Obsession revisited - part one
I felt the sexual heat run through my body and settle in my pussy. How could I feel so aroused, just from a series of glances from someone across the room?
The answer wasn’t difficult to find. The woman was older than me. She was clearly very confident. She had curves in all the right places and … oh yes … she was black. That meant she ticked every single box as far as my masturbatory fantasies went.
Callie and I had found a restaurant close to the newly renovated convention centre. It had looked a little upmarket for us but the table d'hôte menu had been surprisingly within our budget. And in that early afternoon time zone between the end of business lunch and the start of happy hour, it was relatively empty.
The morning workshop had gone on for far too long and the only relief from the droning speaker had been when Callie had started her sexual games. I’m sure a couple of delegates nearby had noticed when she slipped her hand under the hem of my skirt but that sort of thing only encouraged her more.
We’d been an item for a couple of years now, ever since we’d met at a student demonstration in London. One thing had led to another. We’d gone with another group to a pub afterwards and as people had drifted away, Callie had told me she loved brunettes and invited me back to her small bedsit for ‘coffee’.
I’d been with other women before, of course, but until I'd felt her fingers and mouth ravaging me, I’d been content to drift between lovers of either gender. She’d devoured me completely and since that night I’d been completely devoted to her.
I’d long ago discovered that the idea of sex in public, with a real danger of being seen, was quite a turn on for her. She was incorrigible in that mood and the long white tablecloth had allowed her to continue her games in the restaurant without being noticed by the few other diners.
Or had we?
It was the black woman I could see over Callie's right shoulder who had tuned into our action. I was sure she had. I’d felt her looking at me... probing, searching. She was much older than either of us, in her mid forties, perhaps? A few strands of her dark hair sexily fell across her face and her dress was displaying almost as much of her long toned legs as it was her impressive ebony-skinned cleavage.
But it was her eyes that had got to me more than anything. They smouldered.
There wasn’t the slightest doubt in my mind that she knew what we were doing. Each time Callie became more adventurous under the table, the woman smiled at me while she flicked a hand through her hair, or ran her tongue across her full lips, or crossed and then uncrossed those long legs, or ran the tip of her finger across her fabulous cleavage...
God, she was a sexy bitch.
I found that I was becoming more turned on by her attention than I actually was by Callie’s hand. More accurately, the way those deep eyes smouldered at me made me fantasise that it was her hand under the table, not my girlfriend’s.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Okay, I knew.
I’d always had this thing for black women. I think it was the colour contrast that had always done it for me. Plus the fact that the few black women I knew were all confident, sassy individuals. That characteristic had always been a huge turn on for me, but when it was aligned to rich, ebony skin ... well, my pussy just began to drip.
I eventually excused myself and headed for the restrooms. A quick freshen up would help me ease the sexual tension I was feeling and then Callie and I would be heading back to register for tomorrow’s conference. I’d never been unfaithful in my life, nor did I intend ever to break that resolution, even with a black woman.
Still, by flirting so openly with our eyes, I almost felt that I’d already been cheating on my girlfriend. Escaping from that piercing gaze would allow me to calm me down.
The exposed brick walls of the restaurant seemed to be closing in as I headed towards the restrooms, making me realise just how much I’d drunk while we’d enjoyed our meal. Callie was good with alcohol. I’d never been that way.
Alone in the bathroom, I hurried over to the sink and placed my palms face down on the cool counter. My heart was palpitating. I stared at myself in the mirror, seeing the need in my eyes staring back. As soon as we’d registered I’d take Callie back to the hotel and let her have her wicked way with me. She’d like that.
God, so would I...
My mind began to drift. Whereas Callie was blonde, my first experience of girl-girl sex had been with a brunette, just like the woman in the restaurant. She’d been a similar age, too. Sandra had been a professor at my University and had a reputation for taking a fancy to some of her students. I’d been an innocent in those days of course and had been putty in her hands.
The very first time she’d taken me back to her quarter’s at the University, she’d done things to me I’d only seen in porn films. Then she’d introduced me to her strappy. I’d always been curious about what it would be like to be fucked like that by another woman. I bit my lip as the recollection began to overwhelm me. I could almost feel her large strappy thrusting inside me…
The thought of the woman in the restaurant doing the same to me loomed large in my mind. God, sometimes these sexual fantasies just appeared in my mind from nowhere. Sandra been so sweet and so gentle but the woman I’d just been flirting with wouldn’t be either. The look in her dark eyes told me that. And I was already imaging my white limbs entwined with hers…
Why the fuck did that thought turn me on so much?
My body trembled. Was I cumming? Without even touching myself? Impossible.
I was dabbing water on my face, starting to pull myself together, when the woman entered the restrooms. I saw her in the mirror as I glanced up and I felt a shudder of arousal run through my body. I hadn’t expected this...
She stood with her back to the door, arms folded across her large breasts, just staring at me. Then she spoke.
“I love the pose. Is that for me?”
I realised that I was still half bent forward. That was the position I’d automatically adopt when Callie entered the room, naked except for her long strappy. A bead of sweat broke out on my forehead and I stood up and turned towards her. Those eyes were burning into me again.
Neither of us spoke for a moment. My hands rested on the counter behind me, holding me up. I felt weak at the knees.
She sauntered across the room, stopping just short of me. She had one meticulously plucked brow raised, the corners of her full lips turned up in amusement, and those dark eyes were sending a message that was impossible to ignore.
“I can see it in your eyes,” she said.
I could feel my heart thumping and knew that I needed to get out of there as quickly as I could. But it wasn’t that easy.
“What?” I softly asked.
She raised a hand to my face and when I quickly turned my head to the side, her dark fingertips caressed my cheek.
“There are two types of white women,” she provocatively told me. “Those who want it bad … and those who don't yet realize they want it bad. With you, the need is written all over your face.”
I just stared at her, unsure of how to respond. She’d succinctly summed me up in one simple sentence. If I let go of the countertop behind me, I would crumble in a heap.
“I have to get back to my girlfriend,” I lamely said, trying to contain the way my heart was threatening to jump out of my chest.
She laughed out loud.
“The blonde? She’s cute, but does she know of your craving? Have you talked to her about it?”
She could see in my eyes that I hadn’t. My fantasies about being with a black woman were mine and mine alone.
“Maybe she’s the same?” the woman went on. “Most all white girls secretly crave black pussy, you know. You ain’t never tasted pussy until you’ve tasted a black woman…”
I pursed my lips and took a deep breath. Goosebumps had broken out on my skin and I couldn’t trust myself to speak. There was something about this woman that crawled inside me and made me sweat. I’d never met anyone with such an incredibly powerful sexual presence. It was like coming face to face with every fantasy I’d ever had and yet knowing I’d be starting on a path I couldn’t reverse if I gave in to the feelings sweeping inside me.
She was standing close enough for me to smell her perfume and I could feel her hot breath each time she spoke. When I didn’t move, she stepped even closer so that our bodies touched.
“Do you know what turns me on more than anything?” she asked, tracing her right index fingertip across my left cheek.
My eyes flicked upwards to meet her gaze.
“Having a sweet little white girl go down on me...”
She paused and traced her index finger across my partly open lips.
“Especially when she’s someone else’s woman...”
I almost creamed my panties at the words. Was this really happening?
“I’m with my girlfriend...”
“I know,” she breathed against my mouth. “But it’s black pussy you need, yes?”
Her arm snaked around my neck. She curled her fingers in my hair and then roughly yanked my head back, tilting it to the side. I gasped in shock. Those full lips were only a fraction away and they looked so inviting...
“Can’t resist, can you,” she murmured, as she licked her tongue along the side of my neck, up and over my jaw line … moving inexorably towards my mouth.
When her lips brushed against mine, I shamefully responded with all the passion that had been building up in the last few minutes. My body shivered as her snaking tongue invaded my mouth. This was wrong, so wrong. I was with Callie. Anyone could walk in here at any moment.
And yet kissing a black woman’s thick lips was so fucking sexy...
I found myself pinned against the sink behind me as we made out like rabid a****ls. Her lips were somehow both softer and more demanding than anyone I’d ever been with, woman or man. The feeling of her large breasts pushing against mine, her fingers curled in my hair, was almost more than I could take.
Her whisper was thick and husky as she at last pulled her lips away from mine and whispered in my ear.
“I'm going to give you just a taster...”
Taking hold of my wrist, she pulled my hand under her dress, covering it with her own as she worked them down together inside her panties.
“Black pussy,” she whispered, as her hand moved on mine, forcing my fingers to caress her sex.
Her hips were moving in a gentle backwards and forwards rhythm and her breathing was a tad heavier. Then she was curling her hand, coercing me to do the same, lining up two of my fingers and pushing them inside her. I could hardly breathe. The sublime feeling of her strong internal muscles as they clenched around my fingers was unbelievably erotic. So much so that when she unexpectedly tugged my hand free, I almost groaned in protest.
She held it up between us, allowing me to see the way my fingers were coated with her juices, and when she pushed them against my mouth, I gasped but was so powerless to resist that I obediently opened my lips and sucked them inside.
“There you go,” she whispered as I lost myself completely to the lewd act. This was all of my lewdest fantasies rolled into one. “Everything my little white girl’s ever wanted…”
I sucked harder on each juice-coated finger as my body trembled. Was I about to cum? Without even touching myself?
No, that was impossible.
Without warning, the woman turned me around so that I was looking into the mirror. Her appearance was calm and composed whereas I looked like a just-fucked streetwalker.
“White girls love black pussy,” she whispered in my ear. “Call me and I’ll let you play out every little fantasy you’ve ever had...”
As my mind attempted to take in her words, I felt her press a card into my hand and then she pulled away. Her stilettos made a click-clack sound on the tiled floor as she left the room and I had to hold onto the counter to stop myself from collapsing.
When I looked down at the card she had pressed into my hand, I saw that it contained the word Sonji and a single telephone number.
The answer wasn’t difficult to find. The woman was older than me. She was clearly very confident. She had curves in all the right places and … oh yes … she was black. That meant she ticked every single box as far as my masturbatory fantasies went.
Callie and I had found a restaurant close to the newly renovated convention centre. It had looked a little upmarket for us but the table d'hôte menu had been surprisingly within our budget. And in that early afternoon time zone between the end of business lunch and the start of happy hour, it was relatively empty.
The morning workshop had gone on for far too long and the only relief from the droning speaker had been when Callie had started her sexual games. I’m sure a couple of delegates nearby had noticed when she slipped her hand under the hem of my skirt but that sort of thing only encouraged her more.
We’d been an item for a couple of years now, ever since we’d met at a student demonstration in London. One thing had led to another. We’d gone with another group to a pub afterwards and as people had drifted away, Callie had told me she loved brunettes and invited me back to her small bedsit for ‘coffee’.
I’d been with other women before, of course, but until I'd felt her fingers and mouth ravaging me, I’d been content to drift between lovers of either gender. She’d devoured me completely and since that night I’d been completely devoted to her.
I’d long ago discovered that the idea of sex in public, with a real danger of being seen, was quite a turn on for her. She was incorrigible in that mood and the long white tablecloth had allowed her to continue her games in the restaurant without being noticed by the few other diners.
Or had we?
It was the black woman I could see over Callie's right shoulder who had tuned into our action. I was sure she had. I’d felt her looking at me... probing, searching. She was much older than either of us, in her mid forties, perhaps? A few strands of her dark hair sexily fell across her face and her dress was displaying almost as much of her long toned legs as it was her impressive ebony-skinned cleavage.
But it was her eyes that had got to me more than anything. They smouldered.
There wasn’t the slightest doubt in my mind that she knew what we were doing. Each time Callie became more adventurous under the table, the woman smiled at me while she flicked a hand through her hair, or ran her tongue across her full lips, or crossed and then uncrossed those long legs, or ran the tip of her finger across her fabulous cleavage...
God, she was a sexy bitch.
I found that I was becoming more turned on by her attention than I actually was by Callie’s hand. More accurately, the way those deep eyes smouldered at me made me fantasise that it was her hand under the table, not my girlfriend’s.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Okay, I knew.
I’d always had this thing for black women. I think it was the colour contrast that had always done it for me. Plus the fact that the few black women I knew were all confident, sassy individuals. That characteristic had always been a huge turn on for me, but when it was aligned to rich, ebony skin ... well, my pussy just began to drip.
I eventually excused myself and headed for the restrooms. A quick freshen up would help me ease the sexual tension I was feeling and then Callie and I would be heading back to register for tomorrow’s conference. I’d never been unfaithful in my life, nor did I intend ever to break that resolution, even with a black woman.
Still, by flirting so openly with our eyes, I almost felt that I’d already been cheating on my girlfriend. Escaping from that piercing gaze would allow me to calm me down.
The exposed brick walls of the restaurant seemed to be closing in as I headed towards the restrooms, making me realise just how much I’d drunk while we’d enjoyed our meal. Callie was good with alcohol. I’d never been that way.
Alone in the bathroom, I hurried over to the sink and placed my palms face down on the cool counter. My heart was palpitating. I stared at myself in the mirror, seeing the need in my eyes staring back. As soon as we’d registered I’d take Callie back to the hotel and let her have her wicked way with me. She’d like that.
God, so would I...
My mind began to drift. Whereas Callie was blonde, my first experience of girl-girl sex had been with a brunette, just like the woman in the restaurant. She’d been a similar age, too. Sandra had been a professor at my University and had a reputation for taking a fancy to some of her students. I’d been an innocent in those days of course and had been putty in her hands.
The very first time she’d taken me back to her quarter’s at the University, she’d done things to me I’d only seen in porn films. Then she’d introduced me to her strappy. I’d always been curious about what it would be like to be fucked like that by another woman. I bit my lip as the recollection began to overwhelm me. I could almost feel her large strappy thrusting inside me…
The thought of the woman in the restaurant doing the same to me loomed large in my mind. God, sometimes these sexual fantasies just appeared in my mind from nowhere. Sandra been so sweet and so gentle but the woman I’d just been flirting with wouldn’t be either. The look in her dark eyes told me that. And I was already imaging my white limbs entwined with hers…
Why the fuck did that thought turn me on so much?
My body trembled. Was I cumming? Without even touching myself? Impossible.
I was dabbing water on my face, starting to pull myself together, when the woman entered the restrooms. I saw her in the mirror as I glanced up and I felt a shudder of arousal run through my body. I hadn’t expected this...
She stood with her back to the door, arms folded across her large breasts, just staring at me. Then she spoke.
“I love the pose. Is that for me?”
I realised that I was still half bent forward. That was the position I’d automatically adopt when Callie entered the room, naked except for her long strappy. A bead of sweat broke out on my forehead and I stood up and turned towards her. Those eyes were burning into me again.
Neither of us spoke for a moment. My hands rested on the counter behind me, holding me up. I felt weak at the knees.
She sauntered across the room, stopping just short of me. She had one meticulously plucked brow raised, the corners of her full lips turned up in amusement, and those dark eyes were sending a message that was impossible to ignore.
“I can see it in your eyes,” she said.
I could feel my heart thumping and knew that I needed to get out of there as quickly as I could. But it wasn’t that easy.
“What?” I softly asked.
She raised a hand to my face and when I quickly turned my head to the side, her dark fingertips caressed my cheek.
“There are two types of white women,” she provocatively told me. “Those who want it bad … and those who don't yet realize they want it bad. With you, the need is written all over your face.”
I just stared at her, unsure of how to respond. She’d succinctly summed me up in one simple sentence. If I let go of the countertop behind me, I would crumble in a heap.
“I have to get back to my girlfriend,” I lamely said, trying to contain the way my heart was threatening to jump out of my chest.
She laughed out loud.
“The blonde? She’s cute, but does she know of your craving? Have you talked to her about it?”
She could see in my eyes that I hadn’t. My fantasies about being with a black woman were mine and mine alone.
“Maybe she’s the same?” the woman went on. “Most all white girls secretly crave black pussy, you know. You ain’t never tasted pussy until you’ve tasted a black woman…”
I pursed my lips and took a deep breath. Goosebumps had broken out on my skin and I couldn’t trust myself to speak. There was something about this woman that crawled inside me and made me sweat. I’d never met anyone with such an incredibly powerful sexual presence. It was like coming face to face with every fantasy I’d ever had and yet knowing I’d be starting on a path I couldn’t reverse if I gave in to the feelings sweeping inside me.
She was standing close enough for me to smell her perfume and I could feel her hot breath each time she spoke. When I didn’t move, she stepped even closer so that our bodies touched.
“Do you know what turns me on more than anything?” she asked, tracing her right index fingertip across my left cheek.
My eyes flicked upwards to meet her gaze.
“Having a sweet little white girl go down on me...”
She paused and traced her index finger across my partly open lips.
“Especially when she’s someone else’s woman...”
I almost creamed my panties at the words. Was this really happening?
“I’m with my girlfriend...”
“I know,” she breathed against my mouth. “But it’s black pussy you need, yes?”
Her arm snaked around my neck. She curled her fingers in my hair and then roughly yanked my head back, tilting it to the side. I gasped in shock. Those full lips were only a fraction away and they looked so inviting...
“Can’t resist, can you,” she murmured, as she licked her tongue along the side of my neck, up and over my jaw line … moving inexorably towards my mouth.
When her lips brushed against mine, I shamefully responded with all the passion that had been building up in the last few minutes. My body shivered as her snaking tongue invaded my mouth. This was wrong, so wrong. I was with Callie. Anyone could walk in here at any moment.
And yet kissing a black woman’s thick lips was so fucking sexy...
I found myself pinned against the sink behind me as we made out like rabid a****ls. Her lips were somehow both softer and more demanding than anyone I’d ever been with, woman or man. The feeling of her large breasts pushing against mine, her fingers curled in my hair, was almost more than I could take.
Her whisper was thick and husky as she at last pulled her lips away from mine and whispered in my ear.
“I'm going to give you just a taster...”
Taking hold of my wrist, she pulled my hand under her dress, covering it with her own as she worked them down together inside her panties.
“Black pussy,” she whispered, as her hand moved on mine, forcing my fingers to caress her sex.
Her hips were moving in a gentle backwards and forwards rhythm and her breathing was a tad heavier. Then she was curling her hand, coercing me to do the same, lining up two of my fingers and pushing them inside her. I could hardly breathe. The sublime feeling of her strong internal muscles as they clenched around my fingers was unbelievably erotic. So much so that when she unexpectedly tugged my hand free, I almost groaned in protest.
She held it up between us, allowing me to see the way my fingers were coated with her juices, and when she pushed them against my mouth, I gasped but was so powerless to resist that I obediently opened my lips and sucked them inside.
“There you go,” she whispered as I lost myself completely to the lewd act. This was all of my lewdest fantasies rolled into one. “Everything my little white girl’s ever wanted…”
I sucked harder on each juice-coated finger as my body trembled. Was I about to cum? Without even touching myself?
No, that was impossible.
Without warning, the woman turned me around so that I was looking into the mirror. Her appearance was calm and composed whereas I looked like a just-fucked streetwalker.
“White girls love black pussy,” she whispered in my ear. “Call me and I’ll let you play out every little fantasy you’ve ever had...”
As my mind attempted to take in her words, I felt her press a card into my hand and then she pulled away. Her stilettos made a click-clack sound on the tiled floor as she left the room and I had to hold onto the counter to stop myself from collapsing.
When I looked down at the card she had pressed into my hand, I saw that it contained the word Sonji and a single telephone number.
10 years ago
It's brilliant