OR HOW ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER…
A while back I had a girlfriend who would try anything. Absolutely anything.
Obviously I don’t mean skydiving and stuff, just sex.
Her appetite for new experiences was like nothing I’d experienced before, and nobody has come close since either. And that’s saying something.
You’re wondering howcome she’s in the past tense, and why did I let her slip away?
Well it wasn’t entirely my choice, and there’s a clue in the pictures above.
Here’s how it happened, in a very brief extract from her story:
Round the corner from my office was one of the first Ann Summers shops, only recently opened. It was a revelation to both of us.
Ask yourself why there are no 4 inch dildos.
They were all huge, so she didn’t have much choice, but based on the number of times she went back to look at something a second time it was obvious she preferred XL and XXL over M and L.
Finally she selected one we later called Big John. Yes, it was huge, a proud 10 inches long, fat and thick – and black. It was massive but inflexible – not like the realistic bendy things you get today. It was rock solid. She liked that immediately, fucked herself like a mad thing and came like one as well.
Big John was never far from her pussy after that and by the time we went to bed at night she’d fucked herself several times with him, and if we came in from a bar or the movies or whatever he always came to bed with us, and he always made her cum before I did. When I asked what she was thinking about when she climaxed the answer varied but there was one recurring theme, where Big John was actually Daley Thompson. He was a gifted Olympic athlete and, judging by his pictures, blessed in other ways as well.
‘I didn’t know you had a thing about black guys.’
‘I’ve always liked black cocks,’ she said with her usual honesty.
Ask me what a shock that was. I’d just discovered a secret turn-on she’d absolutely never even hinted at before.
Maybe because it really was a dirty little secret back then. This was an era when black cock was a long way from being mainstream even in porn. Since Green Door almost no other porn movies featuring black guys were made and that went on for years and years. And as for white girls with black boyfriends in real life – forget it. They were so few and far between that they got stared at and even called names in the street.
But when we watched the movie on VHS Sue got all hot and bothered. She happily agreed she’d have enjoyed being tied up and taken as much as Marilyn Chambers did, and would have surrendered herself to the final orgy as eagerly and willingly as she did. We also agreed that non-consensual sex fell into the same category as deodorant bottles, hairbrush handles, fruit and veg, dildos and strange fingers in bars and clubs. If all those could get her wet and make her cum, then it seemed logical that even if a stranger didn’t ask permission before he stuck his fingers and cock in her pussy it would have the same unavoidable effect.
I’d stumbled into a landscape of sexual arousal that was as baffling as it was all-embracing, with a girl who liked big cocks, black cocks and the idea of being taken roughly by strangers, and I was struggling to tell which one of them she liked the most, or if they were inseparable as they had been in the movie.
Perhaps it wasn’t only the forced sex that got her excited. Maybe it was Johnny Reyes and his big black cock that she liked so much. Either way, it was beyond obvious that she had a real thing about black cocks. That was a brand-new idea. For a girl whose appetites were so diverse it was strange to find she had a fixation of any kind.
When we decided to get a flat together I asked the office handymen to help out with the heavy lifting. Mike was 21, very fit and very handsome, according to all the girls at work. Bruno was fit but forty and, I have to say, pig fucking ugly. He was a dark shiny black, skin the colour of Big John, while Mike was a light coffee-coloured brown.
They were both into the new fad of keeping fit, weight-training and karate, all sorts. As a result, they were incredibly fit, and incredibly well-built. Moving our stuff took them no time at all, and afterwards, sitting round with a beer each, I offered a sensible amount for what they’d done, but they refused to take my money. I was just about to give them a highly original line about maybe there’s some other way we can show our gratitude, especially Sue, when she beat me to it, asking them to explain their weight-training routines.
In no time at all they were bending and turning and straining, taking turns to show off to her. She was wriggling around in her seat as they flexed every muscle except the one she was interested in, but she loved it anyway, and so did they.
And they soon twigged that she wasn’t just showing polite interest. You’d have to be blind and stupid not to notice the way she was becoming more and more agitated, eyes sparkling, breathing quickly through a half-open mouth.
As they took turns to lie on the floor to demonstrate each routine or rep, or whatever you call it, Sue perched above them in an armchair, knees tucked up under her chin, skirt falling away from her thighs, so they could look straight up at the tight sliver of wet cotton between her legs. They knew she was steaming, and the room was crackling with sexual tension.
I was wondering how to offer them what all three so clearly wanted, but Sue was way ahead of me again, and lay on the floor to try some of the moves herself, basically just waving her legs in the air, skirt pulled high to show off her slender hips and thighs, and the growing wet patch darkening her knickers as they were stretched over her tight little pussy.
The boys looked at each other and at me, then at her, and then back between her legs. You couldn’t look away for long. And she couldn’t take her eyes off them. Mike and Bruno were both sporting broomstick erections.
Lying on her back on the floor Sue was transfixed by the huge tent-pole in Bruno’s tracksuit swaying above her face as he guided her legs in the air, some sort of pretend exercise routine which just meant we all got a good look at just how wet she was. But the lads were too gentlemanly to just pounce on her. How times have changed.
With a soft moan of anguish she reached out to grasp Bruno’s cloth-covered shaft in one hand.
‘Show me an exercise with THIS,’ she pleaded. I remember the words exactly, and I can still hear the breathy catch in her voice when she said THIS, and wiggled it slightly so there could be no mistake. And there wasn’t.
Bruno was growling as he pulled her pants off, growling as he shoved his tracksuit down, growling as he lay between her legs and growling as his cock slid into her. I can only guess what it felt like to be inside her right then, but I heard, actually heard his cock squelching into her, so I know how wet she was. Then Sue started howling and that was all you could hear, apart from the wet slap of his cock in her soaking pussy.
After that things became a little heated, and she loved her new big black cock reality so much we soon began hanging out in bars and clubs where black guys hung out, with inevitable results. There wasn’t any segregation, as such, but most dance venues attracted different clientele and many clubs, even in the West End, were predominantly full of black guys. She stood out like a beacon, and was beseiged every time we went.
You’ll have to read the book yourself if you want to know more.