Making Love With My Black Daddy
By D.O.
celliophonic@yahoo.com
Yahoo! Groups
The flames crackle in the fireplace. Light romantic music is playing in the background. The wine is going to our heads. The bearskin rug is soft beneath us. My sheer, pink negligee sticks to my sweat slickened form as our hands roam each other’s bodies.
I’m slowly, oh so slowly riding Dwayne Mitchell, my incredible Black Daddy. His eight inch erection is buried to the hilt in my soft innards and he gasps as I slowly grind and swirl on his jutting thickness, massaging and gripping him lovingly in my silken boywomb. The heat from the fire, only a couple of feet away, is radiating over us and causing a sexy sheen of sweat to form on both of us. Dwayne is on his back, his knees bent upward, keeping me saddled in the space between his thighs and his belly paunch. I love mounting my Daddy this way as the closeness and friction is amazingly sexy. I look down into Dwayne’s eyes and see him staring back at me with lust…… and love. True love. I’m in love with Daddy and he with me.
We are inside Dwayne’s modest, but beautiful cabin in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, near Munising. He owns a small but very successful shipping company on the west side of the state and lives full-time just down the street from my parents and me. That’s how we met, about a year ago when I was just eighteen and was doing some lawn mowing and other yard work for Daddy, or as I called him back then, Mr. Mitchell. I had started to realize around the age of fifteen that I wasn’t really attracted to girls so much, but most guys didn’t interest me either. Then I met Dwayne Mitchell and my life changed forever. After meeting him for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He had come to the door dressed only in silk pajama bottoms that did little to conceal his prominent bulge and the image of his big, dark, meaty and oh so hairy upper torso was burned into my memory that sweltering morning and soon became the fodder for all my teenage jack off fantasies. I couldn’t stop imagining how he would touch me with those brawny paws, how he would kiss me with those full, chocolate lips……how he might take me, powerfully, with his……well, you know. Those torrid thoughts fueled my pubescent desire for over six months before Mr. Mitchell took matters into his own hands and seduced me into a world of sexual and sensual pleasure that I could never have envisaged, those months ago. Daddy is divorced and at forty two is almost two and a half decades my senior. He also knows just how a boy like me needs to be treated, which is to say, like a lady. I’ve become Daddy’s girl and things couldn’t be better between us. He always knows just what to say to me and little things to do for me that make me feel special and loved. He’s so masculine, big and strong but not in a super muscular, uber workout fanatic way, just in a tall and brawny and powerful and manly kind of way. Like a dark ebony lumberjack. His bulky 6’2” 250 physique dominates my much slighter 5’10” 180 frame and I love being the submissive in the relationship. Once initiated into the role of being, essentially a white male wife to a black man, I started to fall for Daddy and I felt like he was falling for me as well. And now here we were, gone away for a weekend together of romantic escapades. My heart had jumped when considering the possibilities that lay ahead.
Daddy moaned again as our eyes met, firelight causing them to sparkle and yet I could see dark, aching desire deep within his. I could feel the desire within my own body, as well. It was almost overwhelming. God! How I wanted this, to be Daddy’s good little girl. His hands were caressing my nipples through the flimsy material of the barely-there nightie, taunting them and teasing them into tender, throbbing peaks of bliss. He touched me everywhere, like he owned my body; I guess he does at that. He stroked my thighs, cupped my buttocks and lightly milked my boy clitty. I groaned and thrust into his hand as the contact of his burly mitts on my heated flesh caused my rectum to tighten around his manhood, buried as it was inside that most personal of places. We both cried out together as we could finally express ourselves openly and in full abandonment, unafraid of anyone overhearing the intensity of our sexual intimacy.
Although Daddy had taken me anally before, it had almost always been a quickie in the basement of his house, before my folks got home and wondered where I was. It was often fast, quiet and somewhat unsatisfying. Now we had time to go slow, to truly make love to each other, and we were grinding so unhurriedly it was just about excruciating. My butthole ached for more of my Daddy and I longed to show him just how much I desired him inside me, all the time.
This time I had used the excuse of going up to do yard work and clean up at Mr. Mitchell’s cabin for the entire weekend and mom and dad had thought nothing of it. They could scarcely have known that their polite, friendly, divorced neighbor guy with teenaged kids of his own was secretly fucking their son and turning him into a cock-craving girlyboi. Heh, if only they could see me now, mounted on Mr. Mitchell’s magnificent erection, coal-black and nearly trembling with unbridled supremacy. Actually, I rather hoped they wouldn’t see me, you know the whole ‘gay thing’ and then the whole ‘interracial thing’ to go along with it. They’d be doubly disappointed as my folks were traditionalists. Men and women had standard, heterosexual relationships and people always should keep things within the confines of their own race. They weren’t homo-phobic or racist per se, they just believed in doing things the old fashioned way. And then there’d be the age difference bit. Jesus, how was I ever going to tell my parents that I was in love with a black man who was old enough to be my father? No idea so I probably just wouldn’t tell them anything at all.
Daddy moving under me startled me back from my reverie and I looked down at the smoldering passion etched on his face. I was overcome with emotion to be looked at in that way, to be totally desired by this man whom I loved so deeply and more than anything or anyone I had ever loved before. He pulled me down onto his chest so we could kiss and our lips met in a sensual dance as tongues intertwined and spit mixed with spit. The kiss was sooooo slow and deep and fervent that I almost couldn’t think as Daddy took my breath away with the amazing gentleness and softness that he showed toward me. He tenderly broke our liplock after a few breathless seconds and motioned for me with a pat on the bearskin to move off of him and roll over on my side. I did as he wished and was soon lying with my back pressed into Daddy’s chest and belly. My negligee was a flyaway-back style and I could feel the coarseness of the thick matte of hair that covered his upper front torso, in total contrast to my completely smooth, depilated body. I had always had very little body hair and what amount I did have tended to be very light, as I was a blonde. So no one would likely notice that I had gotten it all removed especially for this weekend, at Daddy’s request. It would be our little secret.
My boipussy was feeling very empty as I felt my man arrange himself behind me. I innately knew that Daddy was moving us into this position so he could take control of our lovemaking and I had every intention of letting him do just that. Daddy is a masterful cocksman who really knows his way around a young girlieboi’s body, knows just how to pierce into her and touch every nook and cranny inside of her. How lucky I was to have found such a sweet and wonderful and sexually skilled Black Daddy. I gasped at the feeling of his fingers invading me and could tell he was still at full mast, his cock pressing into the small of my back. His lips were on my neck and ears and shoulders as he whispered sweet nothings to me, trying to get me to relax into him. I realized I was a bit tense and tried to calm down and focus on the experience of those meaty, knowing digits exploring my moist, slick heat. God I wanted Daddy back in my fuck slit in the worst way and I arched my smooth buns into him, letting him know how ready his girl was for him. He chuckled, the perceptive laugh of a man who knows just what he’s doing and is in total control. I knew he knew that I wanted him, ached for him, throbbed for him. Even though I still enjoyed cumming from my clitty, my bowels had become my new erogenous zone and I could feel ripples of sensual electricity undulate along the insides of my rectum, colon and prostate. My guts were on fire for my Black Daddy and I needed him to take me again, NOW!
By D.O.
celliophonic@yahoo.com
Yahoo! Groups
The flames crackle in the fireplace. Light romantic music is playing in the background. The wine is going to our heads. The bearskin rug is soft beneath us. My sheer, pink negligee sticks to my sweat slickened form as our hands roam each other’s bodies.
I’m slowly, oh so slowly riding Dwayne Mitchell, my incredible Black Daddy. His eight inch erection is buried to the hilt in my soft innards and he gasps as I slowly grind and swirl on his jutting thickness, massaging and gripping him lovingly in my silken boywomb. The heat from the fire, only a couple of feet away, is radiating over us and causing a sexy sheen of sweat to form on both of us. Dwayne is on his back, his knees bent upward, keeping me saddled in the space between his thighs and his belly paunch. I love mounting my Daddy this way as the closeness and friction is amazingly sexy. I look down into Dwayne’s eyes and see him staring back at me with lust…… and love. True love. I’m in love with Daddy and he with me.
We are inside Dwayne’s modest, but beautiful cabin in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, near Munising. He owns a small but very successful shipping company on the west side of the state and lives full-time just down the street from my parents and me. That’s how we met, about a year ago when I was just eighteen and was doing some lawn mowing and other yard work for Daddy, or as I called him back then, Mr. Mitchell. I had started to realize around the age of fifteen that I wasn’t really attracted to girls so much, but most guys didn’t interest me either. Then I met Dwayne Mitchell and my life changed forever. After meeting him for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He had come to the door dressed only in silk pajama bottoms that did little to conceal his prominent bulge and the image of his big, dark, meaty and oh so hairy upper torso was burned into my memory that sweltering morning and soon became the fodder for all my teenage jack off fantasies. I couldn’t stop imagining how he would touch me with those brawny paws, how he would kiss me with those full, chocolate lips……how he might take me, powerfully, with his……well, you know. Those torrid thoughts fueled my pubescent desire for over six months before Mr. Mitchell took matters into his own hands and seduced me into a world of sexual and sensual pleasure that I could never have envisaged, those months ago. Daddy is divorced and at forty two is almost two and a half decades my senior. He also knows just how a boy like me needs to be treated, which is to say, like a lady. I’ve become Daddy’s girl and things couldn’t be better between us. He always knows just what to say to me and little things to do for me that make me feel special and loved. He’s so masculine, big and strong but not in a super muscular, uber workout fanatic way, just in a tall and brawny and powerful and manly kind of way. Like a dark ebony lumberjack. His bulky 6’2” 250 physique dominates my much slighter 5’10” 180 frame and I love being the submissive in the relationship. Once initiated into the role of being, essentially a white male wife to a black man, I started to fall for Daddy and I felt like he was falling for me as well. And now here we were, gone away for a weekend together of romantic escapades. My heart had jumped when considering the possibilities that lay ahead.
Daddy moaned again as our eyes met, firelight causing them to sparkle and yet I could see dark, aching desire deep within his. I could feel the desire within my own body, as well. It was almost overwhelming. God! How I wanted this, to be Daddy’s good little girl. His hands were caressing my nipples through the flimsy material of the barely-there nightie, taunting them and teasing them into tender, throbbing peaks of bliss. He touched me everywhere, like he owned my body; I guess he does at that. He stroked my thighs, cupped my buttocks and lightly milked my boy clitty. I groaned and thrust into his hand as the contact of his burly mitts on my heated flesh caused my rectum to tighten around his manhood, buried as it was inside that most personal of places. We both cried out together as we could finally express ourselves openly and in full abandonment, unafraid of anyone overhearing the intensity of our sexual intimacy.
Although Daddy had taken me anally before, it had almost always been a quickie in the basement of his house, before my folks got home and wondered where I was. It was often fast, quiet and somewhat unsatisfying. Now we had time to go slow, to truly make love to each other, and we were grinding so unhurriedly it was just about excruciating. My butthole ached for more of my Daddy and I longed to show him just how much I desired him inside me, all the time.
This time I had used the excuse of going up to do yard work and clean up at Mr. Mitchell’s cabin for the entire weekend and mom and dad had thought nothing of it. They could scarcely have known that their polite, friendly, divorced neighbor guy with teenaged kids of his own was secretly fucking their son and turning him into a cock-craving girlyboi. Heh, if only they could see me now, mounted on Mr. Mitchell’s magnificent erection, coal-black and nearly trembling with unbridled supremacy. Actually, I rather hoped they wouldn’t see me, you know the whole ‘gay thing’ and then the whole ‘interracial thing’ to go along with it. They’d be doubly disappointed as my folks were traditionalists. Men and women had standard, heterosexual relationships and people always should keep things within the confines of their own race. They weren’t homo-phobic or racist per se, they just believed in doing things the old fashioned way. And then there’d be the age difference bit. Jesus, how was I ever going to tell my parents that I was in love with a black man who was old enough to be my father? No idea so I probably just wouldn’t tell them anything at all.
Daddy moving under me startled me back from my reverie and I looked down at the smoldering passion etched on his face. I was overcome with emotion to be looked at in that way, to be totally desired by this man whom I loved so deeply and more than anything or anyone I had ever loved before. He pulled me down onto his chest so we could kiss and our lips met in a sensual dance as tongues intertwined and spit mixed with spit. The kiss was sooooo slow and deep and fervent that I almost couldn’t think as Daddy took my breath away with the amazing gentleness and softness that he showed toward me. He tenderly broke our liplock after a few breathless seconds and motioned for me with a pat on the bearskin to move off of him and roll over on my side. I did as he wished and was soon lying with my back pressed into Daddy’s chest and belly. My negligee was a flyaway-back style and I could feel the coarseness of the thick matte of hair that covered his upper front torso, in total contrast to my completely smooth, depilated body. I had always had very little body hair and what amount I did have tended to be very light, as I was a blonde. So no one would likely notice that I had gotten it all removed especially for this weekend, at Daddy’s request. It would be our little secret.
My boipussy was feeling very empty as I felt my man arrange himself behind me. I innately knew that Daddy was moving us into this position so he could take control of our lovemaking and I had every intention of letting him do just that. Daddy is a masterful cocksman who really knows his way around a young girlieboi’s body, knows just how to pierce into her and touch every nook and cranny inside of her. How lucky I was to have found such a sweet and wonderful and sexually skilled Black Daddy. I gasped at the feeling of his fingers invading me and could tell he was still at full mast, his cock pressing into the small of my back. His lips were on my neck and ears and shoulders as he whispered sweet nothings to me, trying to get me to relax into him. I realized I was a bit tense and tried to calm down and focus on the experience of those meaty, knowing digits exploring my moist, slick heat. God I wanted Daddy back in my fuck slit in the worst way and I arched my smooth buns into him, letting him know how ready his girl was for him. He chuckled, the perceptive laugh of a man who knows just what he’s doing and is in total control. I knew he knew that I wanted him, ached for him, throbbed for him. Even though I still enjoyed cumming from my clitty, my bowels had become my new erogenous zone and I could feel ripples of sensual electricity undulate along the insides of my rectum, colon and prostate. My guts were on fire for my Black Daddy and I needed him to take me again, NOW!
