tagInterracial LoveWith the Best of (Bad) Intentions

With the Best of (Bad) Intentions


This story is fantasy, not intended to offend at all, no hidden negative messages to any group of people: it's JUST a fetish. Saying that I'd greatly appreciate feedback, suggestions, comments, prefer private messages as I like to directly communicate with those that send messages. Everyone involved in anything sexual in this story is of the legal age limit (18 years or older).

Hey I'm George, British, white, 61 years old, around 5'8, 80 kilos (that's around 170 for you yanks), grey-haired buzzed cut, I don't hide it, I'm fucking old. I'm currently living in Florida, USA. I moved her twenty years ago and got me a find blend of women along the way. Didn't get married, didn't want to. At this point in the tale, I'd not had a proper fuck in at least four years.

The last relationship -- I had to that point -- was with a blond, kinda heavy woman who kept giving me step-by-step instructions in the fucking bedroom, like I was in Ikea or something. Bitch didn't understand I needed the fucking to unwind, I didn't want to be told what goes where and what does what. She was like most women I met as the years went on, all about them, demanding the man to get on his knees, licking fucking pussy, going slow -- I couldn't fucking stand it. I decided to bow out the whole fucking scene right then, it was not worth the hassle. Though I do wanna mention that I did get to cum on her face before letting her know it was over.

For me sex was always more than a casual thing given out as a treat, it was not fucking candy to me: it was esstinal. If a man and a woman are in a committed relationship, that to me means the sex should happen each night, not as a privilege but as a God damn human right! I hated it when women held out, wanting to get-to-know me first. Cumming all over them doesn't stop them from getting to know me now does it?

It may not be the most PC way to think of sex, but fuck it; it's how I do it. Now I ain't some fucking caveman that drags his woman into the bedroom, oh no, if the woman says she don't wanna do it, all she has to do is tell me why and that's the end of the matter. BUT if she goes into the bedroom with no warning and not expecting me to fulfil my manly duty, then fuck, that ain't right. I did finally figure out my problem with women: it was a culture thing; problem was I was looking at the wrong women to fill my needs, but more on that later.

The job I got is as a high school football coach (or soccer coach.) A funny job to have considering I hate kids. Loud, annoying, that describes most I'm around, the older I get the more I hate it.

Good lord so many times I have wanted to tell these mothers the proper way to raise their sons. They need a man around, a real man. What these mums needed was a man that fucked them each night, that taught their kids respect. Simple as. Shame I never volunteered my services, I'm sure it would've got me the sack, plus I'm sure those prissy U.S women would've made it all about themselves in the bedroom.

My definition of a good kid is not someone that shows promise or is "bright" or anything like that: it's someone that stays quiet and doesn't make a fuss. I only knew one kid like that, and that was an Indian kid called Deepak. And that's Indian as in the massive country, not Indian as in Native-American, like most yanks think.

One day after practice, I spotted him cleaning up the field. It gotten late, past eight.

"Hey lad, anyone picking you up?"

"No Sir."

"You taking the bus?"

"No Sir, I'll be walking home today."

"Oh no, forget that, come I'll drop you off."

"That's ok Sir."

"No excuses, come on let's get you home."

He dusted himself off and thanked me. See? Not a total git, am I? He got in the car and I drove him to his place. He opened his bag and took some papers out. I looked over at the work he was doing.

"Oh that's not so hard," I said.

"Yes, I just can't seem to get it right, I always miss it off the mark."

"Well when you get home I'll show you some quick pointers, get it done easy."

"Thank you Sir."

"Why your Dad not helping you out with this?"

"No, he not around, he left a while back."

"What? Even with a good kid and a wife?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Said he had enough of both."

"Well you ever see him again, I'll make sure I give him a good kicking," I grumbled. The one thing I hate more than brat kids is quitter prick dads. Good thing I never met that twat, he would've gotten his.

We got to the house; he opened the door and led me in.

"Thanks for this Sir."

"Ah no worries kid, so your mum in?"

Before he could answer I heard her footsteps from the distance. In walked his mum. My jaw hit the floor.

Gorgeous, curvy frame, the kind of body a real man can sink his teeth into. She had long dark hair, that dusky kinda brown skin, looked around late-30's, was wearing her traditional Indian dress, red dot and all, wrapped around like a present, just a sexy woman made for fucking. God! I just wanted to grab her by the hand and take her to the bedroom right there and then.

She stood there, pretty Indian face, her hands clasped together, wearing bangles, the perfect package. "Hello, thank you so much for dropping my son up." She spoke in a thick Indian accent which only got my hard-on even, umm, harder.

Before this, Indian women were not even an option for me; the ones I saw were married or overly shy. This one was beaming, proud to have me in her home. I could tell I had the power. Now I ain't a cocky fucker, but when I saw her, my first thought was "she's gonna be such a good fuck." no doubts, no second guesses, I knew I was fucking her. The question was when and how.

"Hello," I held her hand and gave her a cheeky kiss on the cheek. "I'm your son's footie coach, I'm helping the lad with his history homework."

She was blushing but smiling. I was close enough to size her up, she was just the right height for me, oh boy was I excited. I was maintaining eye contact, letting my intensions be known.

"Oh, thank you so much." She replied, "Please, go in the den and make yourself comfortable."

I walked in the room and taught the kid some tricks for his work. It was easy, he picked them up right after I told him. During the studying, his mum came in holding drinks for us, she bended over and got me blood boiling: God that woman has such cracking tits.

After an hour of teaching, I decided to go, not that I wanted to mind, getting that spicy Indian woman in the bedroom was a guarantee, but I wanted to play it slow, not rush it, let her son give the praise before I jump in and take the prize. I didn't leave before setting a return date, oh no, I made sure I was coming back.

"Oh thank you for teaching my son, Mr, umm --"

"Please, call me George. I'd like to come back some other time, teach him a few more things, say same time next week?"

"Oh, oh please do, that would be so helpful. Thank you."

"I'll show myself out, bye Miss Dhaliwal."

"Oh please call me Naina."

"Ok, Naina." I pronounced that all wrong and left. But no matter, cause I knew I was well in there! She was gagging for some hard, white, working-class cock, it was a dead-cert!

Driving home, I was well excited; I was so hard that I was driving hands free. I heard a couple things about Indian women, stuff that appealed to me, like the respect culture and that, knowing the respect she had for me would end up in the bedroom. I spent the night thinking of all the things I was going to do to that tasty brown woman.


Early next morning, that being a Saturday, I got a knock on my door. I got out of bed and opened it. Standing outside was a friend who lived a couple streets away.

"Hello George."

"Oh hello Trev, you doing allright mate?"

"Never better, never better."

Trev, or Trevor as he's known by most, is the only fellow brit I know in town, though you'd not know he's British if I never pointed it out, real American-like man. He's a pretty tall fella, 6'2 I'd say, he's around 45 me thinks, kept himself in shape.

"So what brings you over to mine?" I asked.

"Well I heard the news. You were over at Naina's house."

That didn't sound good. "And? How did you know?"

"My wife, who's also Indian, heard from a friend-of-a-friend. Good job George," he slapped me on the shoulder, "Welcome to the club" he said with a laugh.

I laughed along. "Oh, ok, you lost me there."

"Well let's just say most, if not all, Indian woman around here are looking for a certain type of man."

"You mean white guys."

"Yes, exactly. Can I come in?"

"Sure mate, sure." He sat on the coach and began explaining. "You see it all started when I met my wife, who was married when I met her, see I kicked out her Indian husband, took over and now her and her son have never been happier. So after this, other Indian women learned they got another choice, real soon lots of her Indian friends and relatives had white boyfriends and husbands. So when I heard my old mate from back home is getting himself some Indian too, I thought I'd help out, you know, since you helped me out when I moved her."

"Oh, that's good of you mate, but I don't know what you can teach me, I mean I'm pretty good with women already!"

"Did you know that all the guys I hooked up with Indian women had sex on the first date?"

"You fucking with me!?"

"Not at all, it's all true, ask any white man here with an Indian woman. I taught a lot of the guys little tricks on how to bag them on the first try, with you though, you don't need to be taught anything, you just been holding it back for so long. Let me ask you this, just between us guys: when you think about fucking her, you feel excited about it sure, but also entitled, like you really deserve her?"

"Yeah, fuck yeah, nail on the fucking head, mate."

"Yes, she deserves it too; she needs a proper white man of the house."

"Whoa getting ahead of yourself mate!" I said with a chuckle, while really loving that idea.

"Come on, I'll tell you all you need to know. Let's meet at the gym, by four sounds good?"

"Yeah, I'll be there," I agreed and saw him off.

The gym's a place I'd not been to in a while. Now I'd kept myself in pretty good shape, even with all the digits I racked up, but Trev told me I needed the gym for what was going to happen next.


I went in and found Trev, he was wearing some flashy gear, flashy as in that he was standing out. He was wearing tattered blue basketball shorts, no shirt, no shoes, parading around like he owned the place.

I saw his missus too, and my god was she a proper stunner. She was around 5'8, brown skin, a thick frame, large tits packed nicely in a sports bra, her black hair tied back, standing there in her trainers. She looked like no Indian woman I'd ever seen, she was showing off her tight body to the world, not hiding it, and good on her I say!

"Hello," she said with a large smile and her hand raised out, "I'm Priya, Trevor's wife, pleased to meet you."

I shook her hand. "Uh, hello. I'm George."

"Pleasure to meet you." She looked over at her man, "I'll leave you guys to it," she stood on her tiptoes and gave her husband a full-on smacker on the lips.

"See ya," he said with a grin.

I watched her walk off -- a treat in its own right. She went on the jogging machine, in tight track pants, giving us more of a treat! My God the arse on that woman, bloody hell, thick and juicy, hmm, I kept sneaking glances at it during the day. Jesus, she just kept going on that machine, I'm ashamed to admit that woman had more cardio than me! Priya even kept her pace going while other Indian women were chatting with her.

"Hey, Trev, you and your missus come here often?"

"Yeah, lots, we're pretty well known here."

"So what those women whispering about with your wife?"

"Them? They asking to get some of what she's been getting."

"And what would that be?"

"Us," he said a smug, fully justified smile.

Trev went around smiling and having quick chats as we walked to the weights. I noticed everyone he talked to were all either Indian women or white men.

"Hi Farah, how that date with Ian go? Oh real well? I'm glad. Oh he wants to move in? That's great! Well I'm sure he'll feel right at home. Oh yes, I know you'll make sure of that! Say hi for me."

"Hey! Lenny! How you been? Hahaha, oh yes the sex with Indian women is fantastic, though don't go shouting that around, you wanna keep that kinda talk to yourself now you got Arpita and her kids. Yeah I know; having them around is not even an issue when they listen and respect us the way they do."

"Hello Karena, glad to see you here. So things with Eric going good? Terrific, glad to hear it, oh and the kids accepting him too? See, I told you it'd be a fast process. Hey, if that ex of yours ever comes around, let Eric know, he'll sort it, it won't be a problem for him."

"Hey Neha, how's things with Aaron? Oh that good? Well I'm glad to hear it. Oh no need to thank me, a great woman like yourself deserved a man like him, it's only right."

After he was done making his rounds, he grabbed the weights and started lifting. "So you going over to her place in a week?"

I grabbed a dumbell too. "Yeah, gonna help the kid with his history work."

"Perfect, perfect. So if you stay there till after eight, she'll cook you dinner, after that it will only be right she gives you the offer to spend the night. Since you're a tired hard-working white man, she'll be obliged -- and very, very willing -- to offer herself to you that night."

"Sounds good on my end."

"Here's some little tips: when you come in, take your shoes off without even asking, unbuckle your jeans, undo some buttons on your shirt, relax, feel like you own the place -- no, let me correct myself: you do own it. Walk around a little; let her see the image of you taking charge. Oh and if you got a hard-on, let her know, let her see it, no hiding your intentions."

"Right mate, right. You sure do know lots about this."

He chuckled. "Well you could say it's a hobby. Hey, all you gotta do is relax and it will all happen."


After being finished, I saw Trev's wife with 5 other Indian women. They were off to the showers, towels around their shoulders. That I understood, but what they were holding when going in, that confused me."

"Hey, mate, why those women and your missus going into the showers with shopping bags?"

"Oh that? They got razors in there, cream, they like to groom each other, shaving their private areas is funnier for them as a pack."

My mouth was hung open; I stumbled onto a community that was tailor made for me.

"Mate, you got it fucking made."

"Ha, thanks, appreciate it. Before you heap the praise, I'm gonna tell you something you may not wanna hear."

"Oh, what's that?"

"Well you saw those bags those women were carrying, well we got you one too, a man's one..."

"What? Me grooming myself like that?"

"Yeah I know what you mean, but trust me on this, a shaven body does wonders for the confidence. You just see how eager she is without any hair in her way and you tell me if it's a good idea or not."

I didn't wanna go off on him, he was right, besides it only fair if I made an effort.

"All right, I don't like it but I'll go with it."

"You'll thank me later," he said with a grin. "Besides, after one fucking, she'll be shaving you."

"Heh, that I like."

So after that trip to the gym, I got myself well and truly prepared for my first fuck in years. During the week I got me face-time with the lad, making sure he was talking me up to his mum. I also went to the gym every day, got me cardio going, it was easy when I had a goal in mind, getting that tasty Indian woman on her back, pumping that pussy full of cum! Oh fuck yeah, I was ready.


On the day of the date, I used the shaver all over, showered. Got a white dress shirt, some black pants (yes I said pants!), got dressed, did some press-ups to get warmed-up and was on my way.

I knocked on the door, the boy opened it, I kicked me shoes off right away, saw his mother in the hallway, in traditional Indian dress, this one being white; surely sending me a signal. I went up to her and planted a big one on her cheek, inches away from her lips.

"Umm, hello George," she said with a huge smile. She was blushing because she felt it brush against her: my clearly visible hard-on.

I was holding her shoulders, looking her right in the eyes. "So I'll be helping your son with his homework tonight."

"Y-yes. I'm making dinner, would you like to stay for it?"


She backed away, smiling, blushing. "It may take a while, is that ok?"

"Not a problem."

"Ok, thank you, please make yourself comfortable." She went back into the kitchen to finish cooking.

I led the son into the living room so I could lay out his work. I sat on the couch, untied the top three buttons on me shirt, unbuckled me trousers, getting comfortable. The lad sat on the floor, his work on the table. My job was to sit there watching telly and point him in the right direction. He told me his history teacher already seen a marked improvement in just a week, I asked if he told his mum this, she did, that was sure to get me extra points with her. The kid was picking things up quickly; it was an easy job, besides I didn't mind putting in the time if it meant a good, hard shag with his mum.

As I sat there I realized if this thing with Naina worked, I'd be the boy's dad -- officially. This would make many men run in terror, but not me, nope, it didn't scare me one bit. I mean, some work had to be put in for me to get his mum, right? If that was the deal then I was more than happy to take it. After around an hour-and-a-half, which whizzed right by, dinner was ready.

Being British I love me curry! It was hot and spicy, just how I like I like it. I got me self excited while feasting, imagining Naina's pussy to be just as hot.

At the dinner table, I wanted the age-gap to be out there, not hidden before our first fuck, making it clear to her that this old British white man was fucking that hot middle-aged Indian mother.

"So, Naina, I'm sure you're curious about my age, would you believe it if I said I was sixty-one?"

She did a little gasp, "Oh really? You do look good for your age, real good. I think older people are too disregarded, I personally think age brings wisdom, a man like you is really valuable, so much knowledge, so much experience."

"Oh cheers," I said with a wink.

"I'm not that much younger, I'm forty-five."

"Really? Well you certainly don't look it dear!" That I didn't expect. 38 tops, that's what I was gunning for. Hmm she's one of those rare women that gets better with age. After eating there was only one thing left to do...

She told her son to go to his room. After he was gone, she nudged her chair closer, her cheeks glowing red.

"So, George, did you like the meal?"

"Oh I really enjoyed it. Thank you for the meal, it's got me well full up."

"I'm glad. George... Since it's gotten so late, would you like to sleep over here tonight?"

I could feel it coming. "Yes, please, if that will be ok."

She put her hands on the table. "In the bedroom...with me. B-but only if you want to, you done so much for us, I'd be more than happy to, umm," she was blushing a deep red.

I held her hand. "Yes, of course I would love to."

"O-ok, good, very good. So I'll go to the shower first, get myself ready and you come in when I give a shout. Ok?"


"Please, make yourself feel at home." She smiled then went to the showers.

I won't lie, I was nervous as fuck. I reminded myself that she wanted me not for my sexual prowess. The sex she was offering was for me and what I brought to the table, that being the life experience, the dependability, the father-figure to her son, the provider. The sex was for me, her reward, my right. Knowing there was no pressure settled me nerves. I then got excited, pumped up to get my hands on that sexy Indian woman.

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