Only when he began to cum, his thick, hot semen gushing into my mouth did he relent and become mine, crooning, "YESYESYES, my white bitch's got a sweet mouth on her," his perpetually angry face softening and mellowing as he reveled in ejaculating his sweet seed on my tongue. With a happy shudder, he let me go and staggered back, his smile nearly angelic.
"Oh, Senora Henderson," sighed my last young black man – the only one not truly African American, but Cuban, a refugee that Mandy had met while vacationing in Miami and who had won me over the first hour we had met. Alfonso was the darkest skinned of all my employees and I confess that the blacker my lover, the more aroused I get. I don't trouble myself much with wondering why I prefer black lovers over white or why the darker they are, the sexier I find them, preferring instead to just revel in the awareness of how they feel on me, their dark skin contrasting with my white flesh and of course how they feel inside of me and how they fulfill my needs.
His cock was beautiful, long and thick...one of God's masterpieces – the kind of cock that a white woman could sell her soul for. "I love your mouth, Senora Henderson...your sweet mamacita mouth...a mother's loving mouth."
I stroked his long erection and giggled at his naughty talk – he had a mother-son fetish that knew no boundaries and it turned me on to respond in kind. "Come give Momma what she needs, son!" I breathed, voice thick with a mouth full of semen. "Let Momma suck her baby's cock.
"Oh, I love you, Momma Henderson," Alfonso moaned, lost in the moment, his hips moving in rhythm with my bobbing head as I slid my lips up and down his thick meat, loving how his helmet shaped head rubbed against the back of my throat, leaking precum that trickled teasingly down my throat. I gazed up into his eyes which were fixed on me, his dark brown eyes full of love and need. Not for the first time I wondered where his kink came from and I felt my own juices running down my thighs as I imagined a dark skinned version of myself kneeling before her son and pleasuring him in just this fashion before he began his work day, envying her all the many days of having the taste of his semen in her mouth all day long, knowing that his fine and loving cock would return at the end of the day.
I think Alfonso could read my thoughts as his eyes glazed over and he whispered, "Oh, Momma – I love you so much!" Then he was cumming in my mouth – an explosion of hot sperm that I could barely contain, sweet and tangy and so uniquely Alfonso as I sucked and swallowed, not spilling a drop of his precious seed.
When he finally pulled away, cock still nearly erect, I took several deep breathes, licked my lips and gazed at all my handsome black men. All were smiling lustily, all but Alfonso already fully erect. "You are all so beautiful and delicious," I purred. "Now, go make me proud – pleasure all those horny white bitches that love your big black cocks so much!"
I stood up on shaky legs and kissed each one in send-off, enjoying their familiar gropes and caresses as I pressed my cum-smeared lips against each one's mouth. My men filed out, Big Al closing the door behind him as I returned to my desk and activated my monitors. I donned my headset and said, "Are we ready, Mandy?"
"I have three very horny ladies sitting in the lobby, Boss. Two of them look as if they'll go down on each other soon if they don't get access to some cock," she replied in my ear.
"Well, tell them 'Catherine's Joy' is open for business and send them upstairs," I said happily. "Manhattan's top black cock brothel awaits them." I leaned back and grinned, something I had done everyday for nearly five years, ever since I had been inspired to provide a badly needed service for the horny, married white women of New York City – all the black cock they could fuck or suck.
I watched with carnal interest as my monitors quickly began displaying various acts of erotic pleasure between my black men and several white women. Alan was lying between the plump thighs of one of our most loyal regulars, Heidi Goldberg – a rich heiress from the East Side who had been visiting us every Monday, Wednesday and Friday without fail for the last four and a half years and who had a standing reservation to spend those visits with Allan since he'd joined us. Her face was a rictus of sheer ecstasy as Allan rolled his hips, his massively thick penis buried deep in her cunt. I envied her a little – she was my age and had possibly an equal appreciation for black cock that younger women didn't really have, despite their love and hunger for it.
On another monitor, Big Al was about to deflower a newcomer...a Michelle Barnes...a slender, red-headed woman of maybe forty years of age who'd been referred to us by a friend, Paula Cunningham. I glanced at another monitor where Paula was on all fours, her mouth gaping wide as Marcus buried his long cock inside her, her meaty breasts flying wildly about as he fucked her hard.
I returned my attention to Big Al and Michelle. I glanced at her membership form on my desk and smiled. Like so many white customers, Michelle was a white woman who'd harbored fantasies about having a black man all her life, but had never had the nerve or opportunity or both to act on it. Happily married with three children still in school, now having been told of my business, Michelle had decided to act on her fantasies – specifically one that so many white women harbored including myself.
I keyed the audio key and watched as Big Al moved towards Michelle. She was wearing a green halter dress which displayed her smallish breasts to best affect. "I-I'm not sure about this," she stammered, unable to tear her gaze away from Big Al's naked body, his massive cock waving back and forth like a sword in front of him.
Big Al laughed and said, "Bitch, who said you get to make a choice." His voice was cold and hard and somehow lascivious – combining to make me wet. Michelle seemed aroused by him as well. I could see a sexual flush spreading across her face, down over her neck and exposed upper chest. "Black man says you gonna please him, you little white bitch, you gonna do what he says...be his black loving whore!" He reached out and squeezed her breast through the green fabric, a flash of pain contouring her face as he handled her roughly.
Michelle backed up into the wall of their room which was tastefully decorated as a bedroom – a large four poster king size bed being its centerpiece. "I-I changed my mind. I'm a married woman...happily married with children. I can't do this. I don't want to!"
Big Al reached under the hem of her dress and I knew he was palming her crotch, forcing his big, strong fingers between her legs. He snorted and said, "Bitch, your pussy ain't changed her mind - my big black cock making her wet and juicy. Your pussy wants me and so do you."
The red-headed woman, her hair as short as mine, moaned, "No...I don't – I changed...OH GOD...I changed my mind." She closed her eyes as Big Al wormed his fingers around inside her and I could imagine her wetness – her arousal as the large African American fingered her. "Please, I'm going to just...go now!"
Michelle made as if to push past Big Al, but he snarled, "White bitch, you go only after I say you can go." With a blur of his hand, he ripped her dress off her, leaving her in a half bra and panties, screaming in alarm, her blue eyes wide with shock as he easily picked her up, mashing her nearly naked body against his, her shivering as his thick penis rubbed against her stomach.
She clawed and hammered at Big Al's shoulders and arms as he carried her across the room and threw her into the middle of the bed, screaming, "NO, NO, NO!" as he pounced on her lithely, his athletic ability betraying his grace despite his large size.
"Go ahead and scream, you little white bitch!" Big Al growled. "You gonna be screaming anyway when you feel me inside you!" He reached down and spread her legs wide and after another quick gesture, I saw her white panties going flying past the monitor. I saw his hips rise up and he placed the head of his swollen cock between her labia which were long and thick and even on the black and white monitor, I could see her wetness.
"OH MY FUCKING GOD!" Michelle screamed as Big Al expertly pushed into her, forceful but controlled – making sure he didn't hurt her even as he nipped at her long thin nipples before running his lips up along the side of her neck and then squelching her screams as he kissed her. I discovered that my own fingers were already underneath my panties, feverishly fingering myself as I watched the red headed woman become "blacked" as they often called it today.
Michelle's body bucked and writhed under the assault of Big Al's immense organ and I wondered what was going through her head as she felt him fill her up with thick black cockmeat and envying her experience at having her first black man. She broke his wet, sloppy kiss as her first orgasm ripped through her, her voice already ragged as she cried out, "OH FUCK ME...FUCK ME WITH THAT MONSTER NIGGA DICK!" her Boston accent leaking through even in the throes of carnal delight. All pretense of being raped by a black man were now cast aside as she tried in vain to wrap her slender legs around his hips, throwing her hips upward whenever she had enough control of herself to do so.
I smiled. Big Al was the master of the rape role play and despite his almost animalistic performance, had she uttered her safeword...in her case, her husband's first name, he would have immediately become the most apologetic and tender man in the world. I smiled again as I watched Big Al fuck her, his and Michelle's bodies quickly becoming slick with fuck sweat and I could almost smell their mixed scents, his pungent musk and her wet pussy.
Leaning back, I spread my legs and continued to finger my own pussy, feeling my labia thickening with blood and my wetness reaching new heights as I enjoyed the view of Michelle being taken by her first black man. The erotic sight made me think of my first time...with Adam, his name making me smile as I recalled how many times his name invoked a very biblical image of the first man and how I would always think of Adam as my own first real man. It seemed so long ago, but hadn't been, but so much had changed in the last ten years...
Turning fifty had been a time of crisis for me. There were the usual fears of growing older...of losing my looks and the love of my husband. Cliff's ardor had seemed to have paled in the last few years with business concerns seeming to have more priority than his often neglected wife. I had also been dealing with empty nest syndrome for a couple of years. My youngest daughter had graduated from college and had taken a job in San Francisco while her older sister now lived in Connecticut following her marriage and I expected a phone call at anytime that would announce that I would be a grandmother...something I hadn't quite gotten a handle on how it would make me feel.
My actual fiftieth birthday found me alone in our New York condominium with no word from Cliff who with his usual indifference was off on a business trip to Belgium, nailing down a deal that would be his latest pinnacle of triumph. I had hoped for a call or flowers from my husband, but nothing had happened. My youngest daughter had called to wish me happy birthday, but it had been a rushed conversation and I knew her mind was elsewhere...on her new job or friends and the call was quickly over.
My misery competed with my anger, both fueled by my loneliness until finally I stood up in my living room and with tears in my eyes, screamed, "FUCK THIS!" I was not going to give into despair. I decided that maybe no one cared and that everyone had forgotten my birthday, but be damned if I was going to spend it alone, drowning in my own misery. A half hour later, I was in a cab, making my way towards a club where I could at least buy myself a drink and give myself a birthday toast.
I won't say that the thought of picking up some handsome man and having a tawdry night of sex wasn't lurking in the back of my mind. I had never been unfaithful to Cliff and although I'd dressed sexily, I had no real intention to breaking my marriage vows. Still, it was a bit of a balm to my wounded ego that as I sat alone at the bar of that nightclub, that more than one man paid me some attention. I was wearing a simple black cocktail dress that showed off my petite but womanly figure and my shapely legs.
Still, while I chatted briefly with several fellows spanning the ages of twenty-something to sixty-something, I deflected offers and flirtation with a virtuous and slightly sad demeanor. I had already decided to make my way back home when I felt a hand, light but strong, touch my shoulder and a deep, velvet voice say, "I don't think I've ever seen such a beautiful woman looking so lonely. I'd be honored if you'd come have a drink with me at my table."
I felt a thrill go through me at the sound of his voice, knowing he was black even before I turned and looked up. I turned my head and forgot how to talk as I took in the loveliest looking man I had ever seen. Like many white women, I had had my share of fantasies about black men, some of them going back to my teenage years, but I had never acted on them.
As I looked up at the huge athletic man standing before me, his dark-skinned and very handsome face smiling down at me, I felt an absolute flood of wetness between my legs...the first time I had truly been aroused by a specific black man, but even as I finally found my voice and replied, "I'm Catherine and I'd love to join you," I knew it wouldn't be my last time.
He held out his hand and I took it, his dark skinned fingers enveloping my white hand firmly, but gently. I stood up as he nodded slightly, a pleased look on his face as he said, "I'm Andrew, Catherine, very pleased to meet you."
He led me across the room to a small table in the corner where the noise of the bar seemed to soften and held my chair for me as I sat back down. Sitting across from me, he studied me above his now clasped hands, making me feel as if I was sitting there naked. My small nipples hardened and a thrill of pleasure rippled through me from my chest to between my legs...my labia swelling quickly and already becoming so slick.
"Now, what is such a fine looking woman doing out all alone." His eyes flickered down to my left hand and the plain gold band on my ring finger. "What kind of husband would leave a beauty like you all by yourself?"
I felt my face burn as I instinctively moved to cover the evidence of being married with my other hand and then, feeling foolish, uncovered my wedding ring again. My tongue felt thick in my mouth as I replied softly, "A husband that loves work almost as much as he loves me." I ducked my head down, unable to meet his gaze, suddenly feeling a little ashamed to talk about Cliff like that. Yes, he had begun ignoring me, but I knew that he still loved me.
I brought my head back up as Andrew reached out and took my left hand in his, his fingers gently rolling over my wedding ring, caressing it as if to claim it and me as his property. "Well, I'm glad he's ignoring you, Catherine," he said softly. "His loss is my gain."
I didn't know what to say to that as equal parts guilt and desire battled within me. My heart was pounding, making me wonder if he could feel the powerful beat of my pulse as he held my hand. "Catherine, may I ask you a very personal question?"
"Yes," I whispered meekly.
"Have you ever been unfaithful to your husband?"
A shiver went through me at the implications of his question, but despite my sudden attraction for this handsome black man, I steeled myself and said with as much resolve as I could muster, "No – never. I love Cliff. I love my husband."
"Even though he clearly isn't meeting your needs, Catherine? And you have needs don't you? You need a man who would love you and make you feel as beautiful as you truly are...who would take you in his arms and make you his, making you feel so loved and romanced...who would remind you of how good a woman can feel." His hand tightened around mine, his thumb gently turning my wedding ring on my finger, making it feel slightly loose and unsafe.
"I never met a man like that, Andrew," I replied. He raised an eyebrow and gave me a smile that nearly made me climax in my seat. My voice suddenly felt weak and whispery as I added, "Until now."
We didn't quite make it to his hotel room. After dropping a twenty on the table, Andrew took my hand and led me out of the club and into the backseat of a taxi, where we put on a display of making out for our driver. Watching us kiss and caress each other as we drove may have caused him to sideswipe a dozen cars – I don't know because I didn't pay attention. I think before we pulled away from the club, I was in Andrew's lap, kissing him passionately as I hadn't kissed another man in thirty years.
His tongue tasted different...slightly saltier than my husband's. If it is possible for a black man to taste different, Andrew did and his taste was instantly addictive. I could feel my panties becoming absolutely sodden as his tongue swirled inside my mouth, mastering my tongue as easily as he had mastered me.
As we kissed, I could feel his large hands on my thighs and then under my short dress, cupping and kneading my buttocks before guiding me down to press against the monster straining in his pants. I moaned lewdly into this black stranger's mouth as my brain tried to comprehend the length and girth of the penis beneath his tailored slacks. Instinctively, I was hunching myself against him, trying to get as close to having contact between his huge cock and my wet pussy as possible.
A baby orgasm had me gasping as he brought his hands around and roughly massaged my breasts through my dress, pinching at my erect nipples as we kept kissing. We arrived at his hotel, one of New York City's grandest and if I hadn't been so aroused, I might have been embarrassed to be led through the lobby at such a leisurely pace, my lipstick smeared and my dress out of sorts. Andrew wasn't embarrassed in the least. He seemed to enjoy parading his impending conquest through the forest of inquisitive faces, pausing at the front desk to inquire about messages and then in a loud and confident voice, saying, "We'd like not to be disturbed until further notice."
The elevator doors had not quite closed when he had me up against the wall of the lift, kissing me again as his hands again went under my dress, murmuring approval as his hands found absolute evidence of my arousal as his fingers explored my wet and slippery flesh. I felt his body tense and there was the sound of fabric tearing as he ripped my panties away, leaving them abandoned on the floor of the elevator car.
He carried me down the corridor to his room, one hand cupping my ass while he deftly opened the door to his suite. Clothes flew in every direction and I was on my knees, his cock in my hands as I kissed it and rubbed the swollen head against my lips and cheeks, smelling him...his pure manliness and allowing his scent to inflame my senses further.
Part of me was conscious of the fact that I was about to be unfaithful to my husband and part of me was aware that I was crossing a line that many of my generation felt was taboo. A white woman...married at that, about to make love...have sex...to fuck a black man! Yes, a part of me was conscious of that, but the rest of me didn't care. The rest of me had become a raging storm of hungry, feminine sexuality, demanding to be filled with cock and brought to violent satisfaction.
Andrew carried me into the suite's bedroom – a massive brass bed dominating the tastefully done room. My legs were wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the upper swell of his butt cheeks which felt like solid steel. The length of his erect penis was wedged between my labia which slid up and down against his pulsating flesh with each step he took. His well muscles arms held me effortlessly, pulled tight against his chest so that we could feel the beating of each other's hearts.