Sunday Brunch

~ ~ ~

I love it when Tim uses me. Sexually.

First, I love it that he looks to me for his pleasure. That he turns to me to get his needs - all his needs - satisfied. And I love that I'm able to do it. And I dread the thought that the day might come when I'm no longer physically able to.

I love it because when he gets "that way" he is highly enthusiastic, creative - and energetic!

And I love it because when he uses me, I benefit, too.

I won't presume to tell you how to live your life or conduct your marriage or your relationship. But if your partner can no longer look to you to satisfy his or her physical needs, then I am truly sorry for you and for the future of your relationship.

~ ~ ~

It feels so good when Tim fucks me, I wish I were able to fuck him.

Female anatomy won't allow me to do this, of course. At least, not in the way that I mean - the way that I'd like to.

Not that I'd want it the other way around. Don't get me wrong - I'm not complaining about the current arrangement, sexually. It's just that I'd like to feel myself inside Tim, so I could feel what he feels when he's inside me.

And I'd like him to have that wonderful feeling I get - the feeling of fullness that he gives me when he's inside of me. I want him to know that wonderful feeling.

We've tried some things. We've tried a strap-on for me, of course. It was... interesting. But I think we both found it too... mechanical? Remote? Too industrial??

I've used - I use - my finger in him. Fingers, actually. And he likes it. It gets him off - especially if I'm sucking him at the same time. I think it's hot - it's the closest I can come to actually fucking Tim, and I love it - I love to do it, I love being able to do it.

I've even tried to fuck his asshole with my nipples (one at a time, you morons!). It's not real effective, sexually. I do like the feeling of his crinkly little butthole against my nipples but I'm not sure what Tim is able to feel. But the idea is exciting and we both think it's fun.

We've experimented with toys - vibrators. In fact, we have his-and-hers vibrators. Seriously - except that we've adopted counter-gender stereotypes, since his is a lovely, delicate mauve and mine is a bold blue.

But both of 'em work just fine. I actually get turned on when I spread the lube on his vibrator, just thinking about what I'm going to be doing with it. And when I use my finger to loosen him up and then press the tip between his cute butt cheeks and into his stretched hole I can actually feel myself creaming as I work it into him, and then I work it around inside him and I imagine that I'm stretching and probing his insides.

The way his cock probes and stretches me inside.

And then once it's inside him, thats when I turn the vibrator on,.

And when he fucks me like this, with the vibrator in his ass, he's almost like a madman. He rams his cock into me harder and he twists and squirms around me like he's trying to get away from the buzzing vibrations in his rectum - which maybe he is.

And, no, he doesn't last real long this way. But I don't care, 'cause when he cums with "his" vibrator in his ass he cums so hard, and it seems like he's cumming into me forever, and I wrap my arms and legs around him tight and just hold him - hold us together - with that thick vinyl tube buzzing away inside him, irritating his prostate in the very best way possible.

So yeah - Tim's vibrator is real good for both of us!

But there's my vibrator, too.

Sure, sometimes I use it by myself, those times when Tim has to travel to see a client. And even then I often do it "with" Tim, talking on the phone, Tim telling me what to do - what he's doing to me - and me telling him how he's making me feel, and I make sure he knows how good he's making me get off.

But the best way - or ways - is when he fucks me while my "Blue Boy" is inside me - in either place. One way is when I lay on my back with Tim's cock in my ass and Blue Boy in my pussy, and each time he fucks into my ass his pelvis presses the vibrator into my cunt. And the other way is when I get on my knees and he works Blue Boy into my ass and then each time he drives into my cunt he presses the dildo deeper into my ass, like I'm getting DP'd.

In fact, both ways it's like I'm getting DP'd by the same lover.

By my wonderful lover.

Yes, Tim is the love of my life. But I liked getting fucked, too.

~ ~ ~

Race has never come up. (Except for my Dad - he's extremely bigoted against whites. But that's a story for later.)

But I mean, with Tim and me. I know that mixed-race couples are not that big a deal anymore, and especially not in a California college community (although you never know what people might be saying behind your back). But it's often a bigger thing for the families, especially for families who want their children to "continue the family heritage." And by "heritage" you know what I'm talking about, right? And I'm positive that my family - and especially my dad - are that way.

I always thought without really thinking about it that that's what I'd do, too. I just never thought I'd meet a white guy...

I asked Tim once if he'd ever dated a black girl.

No, he hadn't.

"How come?'

"It's not a matter of preference, or prejudice. It's just that the opportunity - or the person - never presented itself - herself."

So of course I had to ask him - that question that every girl wants to ask.

"So... why me?"

He smiled. That same smile he smiled when I first saw him - when he first saw me - at the table, at that Sunday brunch that I never wanted to work.

"I saw you when I was waiting at the hostess' stand. I watched you, how... intentionally... you put everything on the tables, and how you spoke to children and how you handled the stressed-out parents, and how everything you did, you did with this... grace.

"The restaurant wasn't crowded by then so I asked the hostess if she could put me 'in that young woman's section.'

"And when you leaned over to fill my glass I didn't see a race - I saw a face. And this thought came to me out of nowhere: That even though I didn't know it, I just saw the face I've been looking for.

"I know... how hokey that sounds. But it was like when you walk into a roomful of people that you don't know and then all of a sudden you see a face that you recognize. For me, it was like that. And all I knew was that I wanted to see more of that face - that person."

He stopped, like he was trying to think if there was something else.

"And that was it. I said hi."

I took his head in my hands, and I kissed him. Maybe the softest, tenderest, most loving kiss I've ever given anyone.

But that wasn't enough. At that moment I loved him so much that I had to do something.

I kneeled down and began fiddling with his cargo shorts, pushing them down, and with his cobalt blue Calvin's still around his thighs I took his cock and put it into my mouth. It was completely soft and totally lovable when I took him but that changed quickly. I just wanted him to cum in my mouth, quickly. So while he rested his left hand on my shoulder and his right hand stroked my hair I went straight to the technique I knew would bring him off the quickest.

We've been to this dance before. I took the spongy crown inside my lips and just held it - him - like that. I love Tim's taste - male, with just the tiniest hint of sweat. I moved my lips farther down, to just over the rim of the crown - the corona, according to my nursing texts - and slid my lips back and forth over that sensitive ridge, just loving how sliding over that bump feels to my lips.

But while my mouth and lips were enjoying these sensations I knew that this wasn't enough to bring Tim off, to make him release his cum into my mouth. I slid my mouth all the way down the entire length of his cock, getting it good and wet and slippery. Then I backed off my mouth and took his cock in the ring of my thumb and three fingers and slid them back and forth on his saliva-slicked shaft.

And like that, I held the tip of Tim's cock between my lips while I jacked him off into my mouth as he caressed my head with both hands.

I knew that I wanted to see his smile. I looked up, and he was looking down at me, and there was that look, and this sounds corny as shit but I felt like I was being bathed in his care and affection.

And something else. I saw Tim close his eyes and look up, like he does when he's trying to let go of everything and concentrate on cumming, and I knew it wouldn't be long...

And it wasn't. I felt his butt cheeks tense in my hands, and he gently squeezed my shoulder and stopped stroking my hair...

... and he came. The first thing I felt was his cock, pulsing in my mouth. Then the flood, the stream of his cum onto my tongue, then deeper, filling my mouth...

And his sigh, as he gently leaned forward, sliding his hand behind my head and holding me while he pressed himself against me, just a little...

And then he stopped. He stayed like that, in my mouth, with his hand on my shoulder and the other hand behind my head. And then he took my hands and guided me up, and together we walked to the bedroom. I knew enough to start pulling down my sweats and panties, and he laid me back on the bed, and like he did that very first night, he made love to my pussy.

After he made me cum - twice - he guided me up on the bed and climbed between my thighs and entered my soaking wet pussy and fucked me lovingly, until he said, "Let's roll over - I want to be able to look up and see your face."

So, no - race wasn't ever a thing with Tim and me.

~ ~ ~

It is to my dad, though.

Not so much to my mom, but for my dad it could be a really big thing.

My Dad hates whites. I never learned exactly why. When I asked Mom why Dad feels this way she simply said, "He has his reasons. Or at least he thinks he does."

So I never found out if it was him being abused by a white boss or bosses, or if he's been hassled by cops, or if maybe it was the way white store employees looked at him when he went into a store. He wasn't ranting about whites all the time, at least not while I and my friends were around. But occasionally he'd start on a tear about something and my mom would have to settle him down, maybe reminding him, "Not around Carinne, Henry."

Anyhow, all the time I was growing up I had to be real careful and warn my mom if I was going to have a friend over who was white. And later, when I started going out with boys, I could never bring home a white boy, even if we had the most casual, innocent relationship.

And when I got older I could never, ever let my dad know that I was dating a white guy. (I've only dated two guys who were white, and not because they were white but just because I liked them.)

So you can imagine what was going through my mind when I realized that I was going to have to tell them about Tim, and that I should do it sooner rather than later.

So of course I went to Mom first. First, my mother isn't a bigot, as far as I know, at least. Or if she is, she keeps it well hidden. Second, a girl always goes to her mother first. Because moms understand what it's like for a girl, and what it feels like to be in love, and when she thinks she's found someone special - a guy who might be "the one."

So within two weeks of meeting Tim - and after we'd decided that he would move out here to be with me (I didn't tell her that part - at least, not at first) - I told her I'd met this guy, and that he was special and that I was sure she'd be able to see how much he cares about me - and that it was OK for her to tell Daddy.

Funny, the mention of Tim's being white hadn't come up in our first conversations.

But then when Tim moved in - when we moved in together - I knew that I had to let that other shoe drop and share that little detail with Mom. A phone call, first.

"Mama, I don't know how this is going to hit you, but Tim - he's not black."

"So, he's Latin? Funny, I never thought of Tim as being a Latin name."

"Not exactly, Mama. He's not Latin, he..."

"Holy shit, Baby! You mean to tell me that you've let yourself fall in love with a white man?"

"Yeah, Mama, that's pretty much the size of it." And I waited, because I know my mom, and I knew that she would take some time to process the information, and then she'd come back with a series of sensible, rational questions.

First, of course, "Are you sure, Baby?"

"Yes, Mama. For the very first time. He's special."

"So he's special, huh? How's he special?"

I smiled. Mom's usual inventory of my boyfriend's personal assets - and liabilities.

"Well, Mama, all the usual things. He's polite, and he's courteous - in the usual ways, like holding the door for me or never interrupting me or not getting impatient when I'm trying to decide what to order - but also holding the door for other people, and never getting angry in traffic - you know, the everyday unglamorous stuff that you always taught me tells you about a person's real character.

"But also, Mama, there's something else. It's his eyes when he looks at me. It's not that 'he only has eyes for me' junk. It's that whenever he looks at me he still gets this look, like just seeing me makes him happy - even if we've already looked at each other twenty times that day."

"Is he good in bed?"

Good old Mom - trust her to cut to the chase.

"He makes me happy, Mama." And then, thinking that might sound a little evasive, I added, "Real happy... and often!"

Mama laughed hard at that, like I knew she would.

"Bad habits? Smoker? Drinker? Drugs? Can't hold a job?"

"None of them. He doesn't smoke, no drugs,..." and then I felt wicked, "not even Viagra." Then, seriously, "He's been with the same consulting firm for six years now." Then I thought to add, because I know that moms think of all these things, "His job has him travel some, but most of the time he's able to work from home."

Mom was quiet for a while, like she was going back over the list of Tim's virtues I'd just given her.

"So, you're saying that his only fault is that he's white." Both a statement and a question.

"Yeah, that's about the size of it, Mama."

"Okay, then, I'll tell your father. Everything. He'll go ballistic, of course. But then I'll talk to him and explain it all to him. And you know your father - he won't be happy about it, but he'll come around in the end. Don't worry, Baby, it'll all be okay."

~ ~ ~

But that's not what I started to tell you about.

What I started to tell you about is how I'm able to fuck Tim. I mean, fuck him so that I get to feel something like what he feels when he's fucking me.

It all began when we'd masturbate for each other, to turn each other on before... before whatever we ended up doing! Sometimes when one - or both - of us is feeling naughty, or bored, or bored and naughty, we'll sit across from the other person and masturbate - play with ourselves, stimulate ourselves - jack-off for each other, okay!

'Strange thing is, this is something I never would have thought of doing with any of the guys I've ever been with. Never. But Tim and I - with Tim, it's like I want to show him everything, and how much being with him turns me on and makes me feel sexy.

And also with Tim, I feel so totally secure. I know that I'm absolutely safe with him, and that there's nothing I could do or say that would ever make him think bad of me.

When we do this I think I get the better part of the deal, 'cause my stuff is mostly hidden but I get to see Tim's junk standing up stiff and watch his hand slide up and down until he eventually squirts, the globs of his thick creamy white cum spurting out of the tip of his hard cock, and maybe he'll smear it around the head, or even bring some of it to his mouth and make a show of licking his hand and fingers clean - unless I get to it first!

But, again, that's not why I'm telling you this. I think I have a tendency to get distracted when I start talking about our sex. But anyway, we do different things to make it - our masturbation "performances" - make them more exciting, and by exciting I mean lewd - nasty!

So one day I'm driving down 101, and there's this place you can see just off the Broad St. exit. I never really noticed it before, but traffic that day was kind of light so I had a chance to get a better look. Turns out it's an "adult entertainment" store, and like I said, traffic was light so I decided on a whim to take the exit and check it out.

I was stunned. I mean, I knew there're places like this, and the kinds of "merchandise" they offer, but I was totally blown away by the number and variety of sex toys and... stuff, and I got lost looking, admiring some, trying to figure out what others were for. A clerk who looked like he might be a student at Poly asked if he could help me. I didn't want to send any wrong signals so I thanked him but told him I was just driving by and wasn't looking for anything in particular. He politely backed off and left me alone to explore.

I couldn't believe some of the things they had. It ranged from "I've never seen one like that before" to "What the heck do you do with that?" to "Holy crap - no way!" And maybe that's the reason I drifted over to their (sizeable) assortment of vibrators and dildos. At least I know what those are and how you use them.

Then one caught my eye. Maybe it was because of the color - a luscious raspberry-cherry red, made of something translucent, probably some silicone-kind of plastic, so it actually looked kind of like red Jello. The label proudly proclaimed "Size Queen Double Dong." The sucker must have been 17 or 18 inches long and more than an inch and a half across.

And my very next thought was, "What kind of show could I put on for Tim with that thing!"

Smiling at my own wickedness, I grabbed one of the long skinny boxes and headed for the checkout. It cost almost all the cash in my wallet - I certainly didn't want anything showing that my credit card had been used at a place named The Toy Box!

Both proud of myself and a bit embarrassed, I tossed the box (in its plain black plastic bag) into the car and drove home, working on my plan about how I would use my new purchase.

I kind of engineered an early, light dinner for the two of us, then suggested that instead of turning on the TV we just read for a change. Tim, of course, was agreeable, so we settled into our customary places for reading. Tim sat at "his" end of the couch and picked up a mystery novel he'd been working on.

I went and sat down in the big stufffed chair across the living room from the couch and picked up my book. A book that I had placed there for a particular reason - for just this occasion. It was a cheesy "romance" novel, which every girl knows is code for soft-core porn. But I hadn't selected the book for its literary content - I get plenty of real-life porn with Tim. No, I'd picked out this book specifically for the trashy cover. I wanted it to be very obvious to Tim that I was reading a sexy book.

I slouched back in the big upholstered chair, and in a minute or two my right hand had slipped down inside my sweats. I shifted around and made some innocuous noises to make sure that Tim noticed. I caught his eye and held it while I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my sweats and slowly, teasingly, slid them down 'til they fell to the floor, then slid my hand back inside my peach-colored panties.