Black Housewife

So I’m working at the bookstore, right? This drop-dead gorgeous woman walks in looking lost. I stroll over like, “Hey, can I help you find something?” She flashes this killer smile and hits me with, “Yeah, books on orgasms.” Just straight-up casual, like asking for directions. Totally threw me off—maybe ’cause of those hypnotic brown eyes and that smooth mahogany skin.

I lead her to the sex section, trying not to stare. Her pale blue blouse under a gray suit hugged her curves perfectly. “Any specific book?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Nah, just browsing.”

We get there, shelves packed with titles. “Lotta options—want anything specific?” I ask. She grins. “Funny, I thought they debunked that whole ‘types of orgasms’ myth.” My face goes beet red. “I meant types of books!”

She laughs, patting my arm. “Kidding! Gotcha good.” Her smile showed off these perfect white teeth against ruby lips. I recovered quick, pulling out *The Multi-Orgasmic Woman*. She chuckles. “Nah, I’m still aiming for single-orgasmic status.”

Okay, awkward pause. I notice her wedding ring. “So... for you or your partner? Got *She Comes First*—it’s popular.” She rolls her eyes. “*She comes first*? If only.” Then softer: “More like... DIY stuff.”

I grab *Tickle Your Fancy*—cover’s a woman mid-self-pleasure. Keisha (yeah, I peeked her nametag) grins. “Great title. Been ages since my fancy got tickled properly.”

Didn’t wanna leave, so I jokingly held up *Sex For Dummies*. She fake-gasps. “We *just* met and you’re name-calling?” Then leans in, hip cocked. “You really think you’re helping me pick an orgasm book?”

I backed off, hands up. “Whoa, sorry! Just trying to help.” She reads my nametag. “You were helpful, Scott, but I’ll browse.” As I walked away, I tossed back, “If you don’t find what you need... let me know. I’m here another hour.”

Dude. Two years here, and nobody’s ever been this blunt about masturbation books. Usually it’s giggly teens or couples avoiding eye contact. I kept shelving books but couldn’t stop glancing at her. That skirt hugged her ass like it was painted on, and her legs... damn. Started fantasizing about her using those books—imagined her naked, fingers working fast, nipples hard, but not quite getting there. I crawl onto the bed in my head, all pale against her dark skin, murmuring, “Let me help—”

BAM. Reality check. Amber, this redheaded coworker I’ve hooked up with, snaps me out of it. “Help with what?” she asks, eyeing me weird. I fumbled, pointing at her books. “Uh... those. Lemme take some.” Meanwhile, my pants were tenting. Amber notices. “That for me?” She slides her hand over my bulge. “Can’t tonight—big test tomorrow.” Then she lowers her voice. “But Jason and Deb got the floor. Help me stash these in back?”

Stockroom was empty. Amber unbuckles my belt. “Can’t leave you like this. Plus, I owe you for Saturday.” Dropped to her knees, yanked my pants down. “You don’t owe me,” I said, but she wasn’t listening. “Orgasm ratio was three-to-one my favor last time.”

Amber’s enthusiastic—tongue sliding up and down my cock, hand pumping the base. I flashed on her tight little body: small pink-nippled tits, that fiery red bush, ass you wanna bite. She deep-throated me, and I almost lost it—vision swapped to Keisha doing it instead, those thick lips, dark nipples brushing my thighs. Came so hard I grabbed a shelf to stay upright. Amber swallowed every drop, smirked, and left to “get a Coke.”

Back on the floor, Keisha was still there. Casually I asked, “Find what you needed?” She brushed me off. “Still looking. Have a nice night.” I stepped closer. “Look—none of my business, but a woman like you shouldn’t DIY this.”

Sharp reply: “You’re right—it *isn’t*.” Then she softens, smiling at *How to Have an Orgasm Whenever You Want*. “Thanks, Scott. Go home.”

Next day, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She walked in at 8, straight to sex books—black skirt, white pinstripe blouse hugging those curves. After pretending to work, I wandered over. “Hey, good to see you. Means you didn’t find your answer.”

She laughed. “Too many books. Need an answer that doesn’t need batteries.” (Pinstripes distracted me—her blouse gaped slightly, showing smooth skin.) I moved closer. “Maybe you’re asking the wrong question.”

“Sarcasm mode: Oh, like why am I talking to a skinny white kid psychoanalyzing me?” I grinned. “Nah. But you could talk to worse people. Like... Dr. Phil?”

We both cracked up. “Fine,” she said. “Coffee. Half an hour. I pay.”

Starbucks corner table. “Keisha Emry. Friends call me Keisha.”

“Scott Judd.” I held her hand too long. “So... Mrs. or Miss?”

“Mrs. Call me Keisha.” She sipped her latte, legs crossed, skirt riding up. Eyes, Scott. Keep eye contact.

She asked about my job. “Perfect for college. Discount on textbooks. You?”

“Management recruiter. Work from home—husband’s job moved us here.”

“And he does?”

“Minister.” She watched me like a hawk.

I blurted: “Explains a lot.”

Wrong move. Her eyes flared. “Explains *nothing*! You don’t know shit!” She stood to leave.

I backpedaled fast. “Sorry—stupid comment. My beef’s with organized religion, not him.” She sat slowly, chest heaving. Buttons strained.

“Twenty,” I answered when she asked my age.

“Thirty-two. Married with kids, great career. So why you solving my sex life? No credibility.”

Snark kicked in: “Funny—thought you’d have experienced this stuff by now.”

She exploded. “You hit on me! Like all those office creeps chasing their ‘black fantasy’!”

I fired back. “When? We were vibing! Didn’t drag you here. Don’t wanna stay? Leave.”

She walked out. I stared into my coffee, kicking myself. Psych 101: *Listen*, dumbass. Should’ve asked questions, not argued.

That night, replaying it all in bed. How fast she flipped from teasing to rage. Bi-polar? Or just pent-up and guilty? Either way... damn. Pictured her skin, those curves—cock got hard just thinking about easing that tension. What she’d look like screaming my name? Yeah.

So I’m lying there in bed, picturing Keisha naked, right? My hand drifts down, starts stroking my dick—totally hard just thinking about her. Wondering how dark her nipples really are, if they’d get stiff if I sucked on ’em. Imagining her legs spread, me between ’em, tasting her while she cums over and over. Then I think about bending her over, smacking that firm black ass while I fuck her doggy style… and bam. I shoot all over my stomach. Fell asleep dreaming about her licking me clean.

A week later, near the end of my shift, I’m ringing up customers when I spot Keisha walking in. She scans the store, talks to Jason at customer service. He points my way. Our eyes lock. I grin like an idiot, hand some guy his change, and log off fast. Head over to her, clocking how casual she looks tonight—light yellow sleeveless top, jeans hugging her hips and showing off her tits way better than those business skirts ever did. They bounce a little as she walks toward me.

“Starbucks?” she asks, eyebrows raised. “My treat.”

“Hell yeah!” Too loud, probably. “Done in ten. Meet you there?” No reply. She just turns and walks out. Couldn’t stop staring at her ass in those jeans—tight, riding up just enough to show the perfect round shape of each cheek. Not huge, just… a nice bubble. Wanted to grab it right there.

At Starbucks, she stirs her coffee, doesn’t look at me. “I owe you an apology. Took my frustrations out on you.” Finally meets my eyes. “Sorry.”

“No way,” I say. “*I* fucked up. Said shit I shouldn’t have. Presumptuous, rude…” Practiced this all week, but now? Tongue-tied just being near her. “Just glad you’re here. Sorry.”

She laughs. “Okay, mutual sorry. Fresh start.” Sips her coffee.

Remembering some advice about listening, I lean in. “You mentioned frustrations. Wanna talk about it?”

Her smile kills me. “Cutting right to it, huh? Scott… I meant what I said before. You’re young. Not comfortable talking sex with you.”

Don’t argue, I tell myself. “Yeah, I am.” Pause. “But what if I knew more than you think? Would that change anything?”

She leans forward, arms on the table—framing her tits, cleavage spilling out of that scoop neck. Trying not to stare. “What’re you saying?”

“What if I’m… skilled? More than you’d expect?” Leaning closer now, her scent wrecking me. Cock’s getting hard. “First year of college, rented a room off-campus. Landlady was 43. Hot. She kinda… tutored me. Taught me how to please a woman.”

Her face drops. She pulls back, tits bouncing. “So that’s it? You fucked one older woman and now you’re hunting sad cougars? Well, I don’t need a *mercy fuck*!” Starts to stand.

“Mercy fuck?” I sputter. “Keisha, you’re dead wrong. You’re gorgeous—smart, sexy, funny. Haven’t stopped thinking about you. Dreaming, fantasizing… *You’d* be showing mercy, if anything.” Shit. Blew it again.

But… she sits back down. Stares.

“Ravishing?” She laughs softly. “Who says that?” Leans in. “Do you really fantasize about me?”

“Couldn’t wait to see you again. Thought I’d blown it forever.” Take her hand. “Yeah, I fantasize. About making you feel things you’ve never felt.” Look down at our hands—hers caramel, mine pale. Imagined us tangled up, skin against skin. She pulls away, sits back.

“My husband,” she starts slow. “Religious. Not fake-TV-preacher religious. *Real*. Avoids temptation—smoking, drinking, gambling… sex.” Sighs. “Thinks it’s only for making babies. Ten years married… barely touched me.”

I shut up. Don’t buy it—no way a guy goes ten years without slipping. Bet he’s “ministering” to someone else. But smart enough not to say it.

Silence. Neither of us knows what’s next. Then she leans in, whispers: “You really slept with your landlady freshman year?”

“Learned a lot,” I laugh. Don’t add *wish I could show you*. “Orientation said learning happens everywhere. They weren’t kidding.” She laughs deep, whole body shaking—caught me staring at her bouncing tits.

“Should go,” she says, flustered. Stands. “Nice talking, Scott. Glad we didn’t leave things… messy.”

“Walk you to your car?” I stand.

Outside, she unlocks her Toyota. “Coffee again?” I ask, holding the door open.

She leans in, kisses me quick. Slides in.

“I’d like that,” she says, looking up. “But don’t get hopes up. Enjoy talking… but I’m married.” Closes the door. We both know “happy” is bullshit.

---

Cock’s still hard. Not feeling another night alone. Call Amber.

“Hey,” she picks up fast. “Still at work?”

“Leaving now. You?”

“Want to come over? Finish what we started in the stockroom?”

“Can’t. Packing. Trip with parents.” Pause. “Where are you?”

“Just left Starbucks.”

“Come here?” Teasing. “Bet we could… quickly.”

“Be right there.” Hang up, pull into bookstore parking lot. She’s parked way in back—secluded. Green button-up blouse, tan skirt.

She wraps arms around my neck, kisses me deep. Tongue in my mouth. Hands on her firm young ass. Grinds against me. Unbutton her blouse.

“Wanna see your tits,” I say, unhook her bra. Firm white mounds wobble playfully. Suck one nipple, pinch the other. Hand slides up her thigh under skirt—wet through her thong. Push against her swollen pussy lips. Fingers slide inside. Finger-fuck her while sucking tits. She moans against my car.

Headlights flash—pull away. Cover up.

“Wait,” she says, grinning. Pulls off her thong. Holds it to my nose. “Smell?” Deep breath.

“Taste me next time,” she whispers. Kisses me. “Right now? Fuck me.” Stuffing her thong in my pocket, she bends over my trunk, skirt lifted—perfect white ass cheeks, wet pussy glistening. Drop pants, slide my cock inside. Smooth.

“Fuck! Feels so good!” she cries, arms spread on the trunk, bare tits pressed against cold metal. Humps back against me. Slam into her—eyes closed, imagining Keisha. Thick black lips wrapped around me. Chocolate tits swaying. Rule of Ten—pull out slowly, count down… tease her until she’s soaked.

“Yes! Fuck me hard!” Amber’s voice snaps me back. Pounding her white ass now. Feel her tighten—cumming hard. Push deep, fill her.

Collapse against each other. Pull out. She buttons up, kisses me deep.

“Wow,” she says breathless. “Who taught you that? Seriously.”

“Huh?”

She laughs. “Scott, I’m young, not dumb. Lately? Your mind’s somewhere else… but damn.” Kisses me. “Don’t care. Fuck me like that anytime. Too bad she doesn’t know what she’s missing.” Gets in her car, drives off bare-assed.

---

Few days later, work phone rings. “Scott.”

“Keisha Emry. Calling about my book order.” Formal voice.

“Can’t talk?”

“Exactly.”

“Meet after work?” Barely keeping cool.

“Yes.”

“Starbucks? 9:15?”

“Fine.”

“Fantasy book this time?” Push my luck. “Not the… *how-to*?”

“Correct.” Sounds like she’s stifling a laugh.

“Got it. *Tickling Her Fancy Without Batteries*.” Almost cracking up.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

“No, *thank you*.”

Thirty minutes later, waiting at Starbucks. Heads turn when she walks in—beige sleeveless top, brown jacket, ass-hugging jeans. Stunning.

“What?” she sits, blushing.

“Everyone stopped when you walked in. Know how gorgeous you are?”

Her face darkens. “Thanks.” Smiles.

“Glad you called.”

“Me too.” Takes a breath. “Scott… you wanna help me solve my problems, right?”

“Yeah. Want to try.”

She laughs softly. “Why you?”

“Because I get *why*,” I say quick. “Other guys? Their fantasy. Me? Yours. Second—you’re in control. I don’t know your number, your address… maybe not even your real name. You decide when, where, if… stop anytime. Third? We’re disconnected. Won’t cause trouble for you. Bet no one else gives you that.” Lean closer. “It’s all about *you*.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re good. Ever do sales?”

“Thought about positions,” I grin. “None involving sales.”

She laughs. “Tell me your fantasy.”

“Which one?” Tease.

“Your Halle Berry fantasy!”

“You sure?” Reach for her hand—she meets mine halfway. Hold tight.

“Start slow,” I say. “Talking. Holding hands. Want to do it right—foreplay matters.”

“Dr. Kinsey?” She smirks.

“Just fantasy,” I laugh. “After talking… kissing… slowly undress you.” Eyes roam her. “Study every inch.”

“Just did, didn’t you?” Smiles. “How’d I look?”

“Goddess.” Voice drops. “Worship at Keisha’s altar.”

“*Keisha*.” Sharply. “Don’t call me Keisha. My husband does.”

“Sorry.” Hot button. “You’re naked. Me? Still dressed. Explore you.” Lean in. “Never seen a black woman naked.”

She chuckles. “Black? Just say it.”

“Okay,” laugh. “You ready?”

“Go on.”

“Slide my tongue—”

“Slow,” she interrupts. Eyes locked. “Tell me slow.”

And I do.

So I lean in and go, “Okay, next—foot massage. Maybe hands too. Just to chill you out.” I pause, watching her face. “Ever had that while you’re lying there... y’know, naked?”

She shakes her head, voice barely there. “No... but sounds nice.”

“Oh, it *is*. Trust me.” I take a sip of my drink. “Picture it: you’re facedown, totally bare, nowhere to hide. But I’m only touching your hands and feet. Sounds innocent, right?” I smirk. “But it can get pretty damn hot. Then—once you’re melted into the bed—I move up. Back, ass, legs...” I let my eyes drop. “Gotta be honest, from what I’ve seen with clothes on? Your ass is gonna wreck my focus for ages. Can’t wait to get my hands all over it. Kiss it. Feel every curve. And after I’ve explored every inch...” I trail off, grinning. “I flip you over. Do the same to the front.”

“Mmm,” she breathes, leaning closer. Her blouse gapes open—dark breasts spilling from a lacy bra. “Don’t stop.”

I chuckle. “Well... I’ve never seen black tits in real life. Just movies. Halle Berry in *Monster’s Ball*? Whew.” I wink. “That stuck with me.”

She rolls her eyes, laughing. “Forget Halle! Tits are tits, Scott. Black, white—doesn’t matter. And no,” she adds, snorting, “don’t expect chocolate milk.”

“Ugh, ruining my fantasy!” I throw my hands up. “No chocolate milk? Deal’s off!” We’re both cracking up, and I can’t stop staring as her tits bounce. “Seriously though, Keisha... never seeing yours? I’d be obsessed.” My voice drops. “Fondling. Sucking. Nibbling. Just... drowning in them. Till they’re so sensitive you’re begging me to move on.” She’s propped on her elbow now, chin in hand, totally into it. And her nipples? Hard little bullets punching through her blouse. Thick. Dark. Way bigger than I pictured. I drag my eyes up to hers as she takes a sip.

“Then,” I say dead serious, “I kiss my way down. You’re already buzzing from hours of touch. And that spot between your legs?” I lean in. “Top of my bucket list. Non-negotiable.”

She spits her coffee, laughing so hard her whole body shakes. Tits jiggling, my dick straining against my zipper. “Bucket list?” she gasps, wiping her eyes. “Seriously? What’s number two?!”

“Halle Berry’s, obviously,” I deadpan.

She swats my arm. “Mood killer! Come on—finish the damn fantasy.”

“Fine. My tongue? It’s camping out. Takes its sweet time working magic.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “Keisha, I *love* eating pussy. Every fold, every spot. Memorizing what makes you gasp. I don’t quit.” I lock eyes with her. “Once went down on a girl for four hours. Off and on. Couldn’t get enough of the taste.”

“Wow,” she breathes, staring right back. “And after?”

“You mean after you explode?” I grin.

“Yeah. That.”

“Then?” I shrug. “Fantasy’s over. Because after that?” I take her hand, pulling her close. “It’s either a dream... or a nightmare. No in-between.” My thumb strokes her knuckles. “Dream version? We fuck all afternoon. Till we’re wrecked. Happily ever after, hooking up whenever the itch hits.”

She bites her lip. “Nightmare?”

I sigh. “Nightmare... once you come down? All that guilt you’ve stockpiled for ten years? Crashes down. You leave crying. Regret ever meeting me.” We just stare at each other, silence thick.

“Damn,” she finally whispers, yanking her hand back. “You’re either the deepest guy I’ve met... or the slickest bastard alive.”

“No middle?” I ask softly. “Like... I just wanna bang a hot black woman? But not if it breaks her.”

“*Older* black woman,” she corrects, smiling faintly. She sits up straight—nipples like gun barrels aimed right at me. “Guess I’ve got thinking to do, huh? Walk away... let you dream about Halle.” Her eyes lock on mine. “Or cut her off. Show you what a real woman feels like.”

“Keisha.” I reach for her hand again. “Your call. You’re steering. I want this. Bad.” I tap my tongue. “Can taste it. But *only* if it doesn’t wreck you.” I scribble my number down. “Call me. Day. Night. We talk. Meet. Whatever.”

She touches my lips. “Shhh. Thanks, Scott. Gotta go.” I stand to walk her out.

At her car? I pull her in, kiss her hard. Her stiff nipples dig into my chest—my dick jumps. She grabs my neck, tongue in my mouth. We go at it, messy and urgent. When she finally pulls back? Both of us panting.

“Shit,” she gasps. “Gotta run.”

“Hey,” I nod at her chest. “Cover up before you go inside.”

Her eyes dart down. “When did *that* happen?!”

“Thirty minutes ago,” I smirk.

“Asshole,” she laughs, pecking my lips. “But fine. Enjoyed the show?” She drops her voice. “Oh, and I’ll be changing my soaked panties too.” Before I can react? She’s in the car. Gone.

---

Three days crawl by. No call.

Then Tuesday morning. Walking to chem class? Phone rings. Blocked number.

“Scott? It’s Keisha.” My dick twitches before I even say hi.

“Hey,” I manage. “Good to hear you.” It’s 8:45. Class in fifteen.

“What’re you doing today?” Her voice’s husky.

“Whatever you want.” I pivot instantly. Screw class.

“I want your fantasy,” she whispers. “Got me so fucking wet just replaying it. Can we meet?” *Holy shit.* My cock’s punching denim as I bolt toward my car.

“Fuck yes. My place? Or somewhere?” My roommate’s gone all day—thank god. Place looks... okay?

“Your place. You sure?”

“Yeah, he’s out till dinner.” I’m jogging now. “When?”

“Now? Unless you need time—”

“Now’s perfect!” Books chucked in the back. Engine roaring. Speed home.

---

Half-hour later? Just slammed the dishwasher shut when knocking hits the door. I yank it open—jeans, t-shirt, bare feet.

“Jesus, you’re gorgeous,” I blurt, pulling her in. Pastel green blouse tucked into tight jeans. Boots clacking. We’re kissing before the door closes—desperate, breathless. I force myself to slow down. “Drink? Coke? Coffee? Something... stronger?” I steer her to the couch.

She kicks off her boots, curling her legs up. “Nah, I’m good. ‘Stronger’? Scott, you’re barely legal.” She laughs, kissing me again.

Kissing turns urgent. Hands everywhere. Hers groping my ass, my neck. Mine locked on her back—fighting the urge to squeeze her tits. She’s aggressive. Tongue wrestling mine. Bodies glued.

“Slow,” I pant, pulling back. “How long you got?”

“All damn day,” she breathes, diving back in. Her hand slides down my thigh—rubs my dick through my jeans. *Fuck.* Then her fingers flick my belt open. *Fuck!*

I grab her wrists. “Keisha. All day. No rush.”

“Bullshit,” she snaps, twisting free. Her hand grabs mine—shoves it between her legs. “Feel that? Been dripping since you left the café.”

“Okay,” I groan. “Not snail pace—but let’s savor it.” I stand, pulling her up. “Bedroom.”

On the bed? I sit her between my legs. Face level with her breasts. Unbuttoning her blouse—slow. She tries to help—I push her hands off.

“Please,” I whisper, looking up. “Let me do this.”

Buttons gone. Her jeans? So tight I unsnap them to yank her blouse free. It drops. Black lace bra—barely holding back full tits. Nipples poking through. I palm them through the thin fabric—thumbs circling. She moans. Kisses rain down her stomach while I tease her nipples. Bra clasp snaps. Tossed aside.

Better than I dreamed.

Her tits are firm—dark areolas, almost black. Nipples thick as my pinkie. I suck her left one—hard—while squeezing her right breast. She claws my hair, holding me there. Switching sides. Mouth buried between them. Her nipples rock-hard now.

Still sucking? Unzip her jeans. Tug them down. She wiggles, lifts her feet. Panties? Soaked black lace. I nose against her crotch—inhale deep. Hands cup her mound through wet fabric—thumb circling her clit.

“Mmm,” she sighs, grinding against my hand. “Don’t stop.”

I peel the panties down. Thick black bush. Face buried in her velvet softness—rubbing my cheeks against her. Cupping her ass. Never felt anything like it. Pull back—look up past her tits. “So... hands and feet massage?”

She cracks up. “Skip the foreplay! Look at me—I’m *drenched*. Doesn’t that count?”

I laugh. “Fine. But I still want your ass. Lay down?”

“Only if you strip!” She tugs my shirt off—then my jeans. Boxers down—cock springs up, slaps her arm. She wraps her hand around it—strokes slow. Tan fingers on pale skin? Fuck. My dick jumps.

“That’s more like it,” she purrs, bending toward my tip—tongue darting out.

“Not yet,” I gasp, pulling her head back. Hate saying it—but this is her time. “You first. On your stomach.”

She pouts—but flips over. My breath catches.

Holy shit—her ass. Two perfect dark globes. Crease leading straight to her thick bush. Kneading her cheeks—firm and soft. Kisses trail down her spine. Skin darkens—almost black near her crack. Thumbs tease her asshole—she moans.

Hands slide down—thumbs stroke her pussy lips—just beside them. Avoiding her wetness. She arches, wiggles—trying to force contact. I finally give in—thumbs rub her slick heat. Dragging her open—massaging inner lips. Black outside, pink inside. Then two fingers slide in—slow.

“Mmm!” she groans, pushing back.

I finger-fuck her—slow torture—while kneading her ass. She’s bucking—backing onto my hand. I lean over—bite her cheeks gently. Still pumping fingers. Tongue laps around her asshole—pushing inside. Fuck—she tastes sweet.

“Oh god—Scott—right *there*!” She’s writhing—can’t keep still. I lift off her—flip her onto her back.

Kneeling between her legs? Speechless.

Tits—high and round. Nipples bullet-hard. Flat stomach. Dark bush pointing straight to puffed lips—shiny, wet.

I breathe her in—heavy scent of cream. Tongue flattens—one long lick from asshole to clit.

“*Fuck yes!*” she screams. “Eat me—please!” Tongue plunges in—lapping up thick juice. Pumping fingers deep. Her clit peeks out—pink under black hood. Tongue flicks it—around it—then sucks it hard.

“Oh god—just like that!” she gasps. Hips grinding. Fingers slam deeper. Clit throbbing against my tongue. “I’m coming—*don’t stop—*” Her body locks—then explodes. Hips bucking. Juice flooding my chin. Pussy clamping my fingers. Head thrown back—tits heaving. I lick her clean—greedy—sucking every drop.

Her hands drag at my hair—trying to pull me up. “No,” I growl into her thigh. “That wasn’t explosive enough.” Tongue plunges back in—sucking her clit raw. “Need practice.” She shrieks—fingers clawing the sheets. “Got distracted.” Lick after lick—tongue buried deep. “Too damn good.” Her taste floods my mouth—dark sweetness. “Can’t quit.” Arms hook under her thighs—lift her higher. “Don’t want to.” She’s screaming—back arching off the bed. “Not. Done.” Slow, deep licks—lapping her desperate juice. “Not yet.”

“No way!” she gasps. “What happens when you focus?”

“You’ll find out,” I say, diving back between her legs, sucking her pussy lips into my mouth. I turn my head sideways, nibbling each lip, holding them gently between my teeth while my tongue slides up and down.

“Holy shit! What *is* that?” she moans, squirming on the bed. “Your landlady teach you this?” I don’t answer. Just push my tongue deeper inside her and slip a finger in too. I swirl it around, getting it soaked, then drag it down between her pussy and asshole. Kept licking her while dipping my finger for more wetness as she writhed and moaned. Skimmed my slick finger in circles around her asshole before going back for more juice.

When she’s almost whimpering, I move my mouth to her clit and slide the tip of my finger into her ass. Sucking her clit, I push my finger deeper while pinching her pussy lips with my other hand. All that at once? She loses it—bucking hard against my mouth and hands.

“Oh God! I can’t even tell what’s happening! It’s too much! Everything! Fuck! I’m coming again!” I lean into her, trying not to lose contact as the orgasm hits. Keep sucking, pinching, massaging her ass while she thrashes. When she spreads wider, begging for more, I shove my finger all the way into her ass and bite her clit lightly. She explodes—gushing hot cream over my hands, body shaking so hard my lips slip off her clit. I dive back in, lapping up the thick sauce pouring out. Tasted so strong, smelled so intense, I got dizzy just cleaning her up.

Paused to suck her hard black nipples while kissing my way up her sweaty body. Pressed my lips to hers, and she sucked my pussy-wet tongue into her mouth, kissing me like she was starving. My cock throbbed against her entrance, begging to get in. She lifted her knees, spread wide, and swallowed my dick deep into her tight, slick pussy. Tighter than I expected—guess from years of neglect—but her hot walls hugged me like a glove, massaging as I slid in and out slow. Couldn’t believe this was real—not gonna wake up fucking Amber after dreaming all this.

We kissed like crazy, tongues tangled, as we sped up. Wanted us to come together, so I held back, waiting for her signal. Reached between us, pinched her thick nipples, stretching them as I pounded her faster. She thrust up, grinding her clit against my pelvis.

“Oh my god! Scott! Can’t... believe... it’s building... again!” She gasped between words. “Never... happened... before! Fuck me harder!” Panting, twisting her head, she slammed her pussy onto my cock. I was so damn close, trying to hold out for that perfect moment when pleasure turns to pure ecstasy. Wasn’t sure I’d make it.

“Cumming!” Keisha yelled. “Oh! Oh! Ohhh! Fuck!” She clenched around my cock, dug her nails into my back—and that did it. I let go, body jerking as I shot streams deep inside her quivering pussy. We locked together, shaking violently until we collapsed.

Lay there gulping air, her trembling body under mine, hard nipples pressed to my chest. Minutes passed before we could breathe. As we cooled down, hugged tight and kissed again. Keisha spoke first.

“Gonna put your landlady on my Christmas list!” She laughed, hands rubbing my back.

“Explosive?” I asked, lifting my head to see her face. Hair matted to her forehead, body glowing with sweat after three orgasms.

“Uh huh,” she nodded dreamily. “Like dynamite. Really your first time with a black woman? How’d you like it?”

“Um... like candy,” I said. “Chocolate outside, cream filling.” She laughed. “But best when we added nuts.”

“You’re crazy,” she murmured, lips brushing mine.

“And you’re ravishing!” I insisted. “Don’t care if you hate the word—you are.”

“Don’t feel ravishing,” she said. “Feel sweaty, drained... and amazing. Thank you, Scott. God, I looked so long for you.”

“Looked for me?” I asked.

“Someone like you. You think I went to that bookstore for a book?” Her pussy muscles flexed around my soft cock. “Do I seem like I have orgasm trouble? We hit every bookstore, video store... video store creeps? Don’t get me started.”

“We?” I asked. “Who’s we?” Totally lost, I stared into her eyes.

“Calm down,” she said, pulling me close. “Mostly true. Husband’s a minister—neglects me, but not why I said. His Thursday men’s group? Worshiping white pussy. Mixed neighborhood, church full of women dying for a black pastor in their beds!” she spat angrily.

“Three black wives met—called ourselves neglected housewives. Almost confronted them, but thought: why not play their game? Went hunting for white guys. Avoided bars and clubs—hit bookstores, video stores, coffee shops.”

“Getting pissed and leaving? All fake?” I asked.

“Testing you,” she said softly, fingers in my hair. “Plenty of white guys want black pussy, but I wanted... what you just gave me.”

“Testing?” Speechless. Replayed every conversation. “Passed?”

“Oral exam? A+. Fill in the blanks? Very full.” She laughed. “Teased you too. Didn’t you say sex is mental? If I’d jumped you at the bookstore, would tonight have happened? Your nerves were foreplay.” She smiled—and she was right.

“Wow,” I breathed.

“Thought you were too young at first—but you sold me. When you shared your fantasy? Here we are. Can’t wait to tell the girls about you!”

“Meet them? Those neglected housewives?” I stared.

“Oh Scott,” she purred. “They need their own white guys—but you’re too good not to share. What you did? Unbelievable. Three orgasms! Can’t hog you.”

“No say?” I laughed—but my cock stirred inside her wetness.

“Sure,” she grinned, hips rocking. “Once you meet them? Only problem is saving you for me.” She squeezed me, hardening inside her.

“Cindy’s 40—older than me, younger than your landlady tutor. Shorter, darker skin, killer body. Stories? She’s got tricks that’ll teach you.” She laughed, rocking faster.

“Penny’s 29, looks like Halle Berry. Seriously—gets told that constantly. Light skin, figure we all envy.” I said Keisha’s body couldn’t be beat. “Sweet—but wait till you see Penny’s tits. At Starbucks? You peeked at mine—with hers? You’ll stare. Everyone does.” Her hips rolled against my fully hard cock. “So? In?”

“I will be if you keep that up,” I groaned, matching her rhythm. “Yeah, sure. When do I meet them?”

“Thursday night, duh,” she laughed, flipping me over. Sat on me, pussy muscles massaging my cock—no moving needed. Unreal control. “Think you’re the only one with tricks?” She put my hands on her tits—hair matted, sweat dripping between her brown breasts. Rubbed her hard nipples, squeezed her tits while she rolled her hips, clenching around me. Sensation? Mind-blowing.

“You’re amazing,” I whispered, pinching her black nipples. Felt her wetness running down my ass as she milked my cock. Leaned forward—tits dangling over my face—and whispered, “Haven’t even seen my mouth tricks.” I sucked a nipple hard. “Too sensitive!” She gasped, riding faster. I bucked under her while she bounced, clit grinding against me. Slipped my thumb to her clit—and she rode me into another orgasm, screaming my name.

“Scott! Fuck! Scott!” She collapsed on my chest as I came inside her shaking pussy. Lay there catching our breath.

“Gimme a minute,” she kissed me. Later, she came back with a wet washcloth. “Not what you hoped? Don’t like my own taste.” Sat beside me, draped the hot cloth over my cock—felt amazing as she wrapped it around me. Spread my legs, wiped down my thighs, lifted my knees to clean my ass.

Tossed the cloth, knelt between my knees, licked my cock from base to tip. Breasts brushed my thighs as she coated me with spit. Locked eyes, slid my half-hard dick between her lips—swallowed me whole. Mouth hot, wet—sight of my white cock between her black lips turned me rock-hard fast. Pulled back, lips sliding up and down my shaft. Watching her was almost as hot as feeling it.

When I was fully hard, she popped me out, wedged me between her tits—saliva-slick, sliding smooth. First tit fuck—felt incredible. Leaned down, sucked my tip while sliding her tits down my cock. Pushed up—cock gliding between tits into her mouth.

“So fucking awesome!” I shouted. “Never felt anything!” Bounced my ass, trying to thrust deeper—but she squeezed her tits tight, only letting my tip into her mouth each time. Driving me wild—wanted more inside her hot mouth. She teased expertly, cock getting harder between her breasts. Finally, lifted until her nipples rested on my thighs—mouth still on my tip. Pulled back till my cock pointed straight up—then slid down to the base, swallowing me deep. Held it there, unmoving, then slid slowly back up. When her chin hit the bed, my cock stretched down toward my feet—just the head in her mouth. Tongue flicked under my cock, sucking the tip.

“Oh fuck, Keisha!” I panted—couldn’t thrust deeper like this. “Feels insane!” Lay there, loving her tongue teasing me while she stroked my balls. Cock throbbing—but no way to get going. She teased and teased—me straining uselessly. Finally lifted, letting my cock stand up—then slid up and down fast. Thrust into her mouth while she stroked my balls—and blew instantly, jerking hard, filling her mouth. She swallowed every drop, sucked me dry, cleaned me lazily with her tongue.

“Jesus, Keisha! Best orgasm ever. Ruined me for anyone else,” I said—meant it.

“So... no Cindy or Penny?” She curled on my sweat-soaked chest. “Keep you?”

“You decide,” I stroked her hair. “You run this show.”