The Breeding of Jennifer-5

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JenniferB

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Oct 26, 2005
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Anthony reached down and took my hand, helping me up. I was feeling almost dizzy from the emotions running through me and from the concentration I had put forth to please him with my mouth. I bent down to pick up my clothes and my purse but Anthony stopped me saying, "Leave all that, your stuff's not going anywhere." He led me to the bedroom that I had only glimpsed through the open door. The furnishings there were also pretty sparse: a chest of drawers, a queen-size bed, a night stand with about seven books on it and a lamp, and on one wall, across from the bed, a wide floor to ceiling mirror. He stopped me in front of the mirror, turned me to face it and stood behind me. He reached around and put one hand on my breast, cupping it, and the other flat against my pussy, his fingers lightly stroking the slit. "How do we look together?" As before, when I saw my white hand stroking his black cock, I was very aware of our color difference -- his skin so dark when contrasted with mine, even more so on my lower abdomen and breasts, where the tan lines from my bikini stopped.
As we stood there, smiling into each other's eyes in the mirror, Anthony said, "Listen, I hate to bring this up, but won't your parents be expecting you? I mean, I don't want you to have any problems." "They're in Europe until the end of next week. And if they call I've got my cell." Anthony smiled again as he kissed my neck and shoulders. I reached up and stroked his cheek, his neck, his head. I could feel his coarse hair under my fingertips and I remembered that that African hair and other African features (skin color, nose, mouth, forehead) were what had attracted me to black men when I was 13 and would go to a local mall just to look at black guys walking by. "So," Anthony said, "we've got a week and a half... I've got a week and a half to use your pretty white self in every way I can." He laughed again, enjoying seeing me in the mirror, trying to shock me, to put me at a disadvantage. But he laughed again when I said, "Yes, I hope so, you can use anything on my pretty white self you want." I wanted to spend more time with him, not just a one-night stand, and I was also relaxing enough that I could laugh at myself, make a joke. I was enjoying standing there naked, I was totally unashamed to be there like that. Could I have imagined a week ago that I would be standing naked in a man's apartment, looking at him in the mirror while he fingered my pussy, touching me wherever he wanted? I was making some kind of transition from "good" girl to "bad" girl, from little Miss Perfect White Girl to something else I didn't even know yet, from virgin (I really didn't count poor Jeremy) to whore or slut (the eternal female dichotomy). Part of my smile in that mirror was loving who and what I was becoming, what I was becoming, what I was feeling about being totally available to this black man.
Anthony put his hands on my shoulders and turned me toward the bed. The butterflies that had disappeared from my stomach all came back in a huge swarm. I lay on the bed and Anthony stretched out on my left side as I slid toward the wall. "Now, girl, I want you to relax," he said, "and leave everything to me." I smiled nervously, nodded as he put his hand between my knees and pushed them slightly apart, showing me with his fingers how open he wanted my legs to be. He moved his hand to my exposed pussy and pushed his middle finger inside me as I gasped audibly. Then he began moving his finger on my clitoris in slow, tiny circles. I had masturbated occasionally since the age of 12, but feeling another hand on my most sensitive spot sent little waves of pleasure through me. While he fingered my clitoris he began sucking my nipples. first one then the other, and suddenly I felt that those two parts of my body, my nipples and my clitoris were connected by a magic wire that sent little messages of pleasure back and forth. Several months later another black man would show me that he could make me come just by sucking on my nipple. I've always been amazed at their sensitivity. I was more and more aroused, my breathing heavier.
I was aware that Anthony was reaching over to his night stand for something in the drawer, and I soon spotted a condom between his thumb and index finger. I shook my head "no". "Are you sure?" said Anthony. "Yes...I want to feel you, and anyway, I just finished my period a few days ago, I'm very 'safe'." He tossed the condom on the floor, then knelt between my legs, his cock sticking straight out -- so very very very huge, so very very very black, his balls now tight in their sack against the base of his cock, the head completely out of the foreskin that was stretched tight. How could something that big ever get inside me when just a few minutes ago Anthony's finger had seemed plenty big enough? He lowered himself toward me, then whispered, "Open yourself Jenn, open that tight white pussy for me." I reached down between my legs with both hands and spread my labia... it was a very erotic moment, opening myself to my black lover, offering myself to him... and I felt the head of his cock at the opening, pushing slowly inside me, just a little at first, then a bit more as Anthony wiggled his hips, pushing himself farther inside me. My wetness helped but the penetration still hurt at first, then it began feeling wonderful as the pain went away, as I felt this sense of fullness in my pussy that felt as if my whole body were being filled, satisfied, felt him pushing deeper, farther (was I really that deep? I imagined his cock lodged somewhere in my chest cavity), until I finally realized that his lower abdomen and mine were touching, that he was completely inside me, that our pubic hairs were intertwining. Instinctively I wrapped my legs around his middle, holding him inside me, my heels resting on the backs of his thighs. And then he just rode me, slow and deep thrusts, taking possession and control of my body.
"How do you like it?" he whispered, "how do you like being black fucked baby? this big black cock inside that white pussy?" My eyes were closed in pleasure, I was beyond answering, talking. I just smiled as he moved up and down inside me and I, slowly learning his rhythm, began meeting his strokes with hip movements of my own, fucking him back. I'm not sure how long it was after he entered my body that I started coming -- first just a pleasant sentation around my clitoris, then it spread to my crotch, my legs, my body, my arms, my brain and I came, my orgasm so hard, so intense, the pleasure almost painful in its strength. At first I heard myself saying "ah...ah...ah..." and then the "ahs" just stretched out into a single, long moan of pleasure as I bucked against him, holding him with my arms, hands, legs, my fingernails difgging into his back... the black man giving the white girl her first orgasm... then I could feel Anthony's cock seem to get bigger, throbbing as he made grunting, animal-like noises, his head on my shoulder, then it felt like his cock was exploding and I knew he was ejaculating, and he just collapsed on me with all his weight as I kissed his cheek and neck and caressed his head and back, and I didn't mind at all his lying full length on me, covering me totally, his cock still inside me.
We were both breathing heavily, beads of sweat on our foreheads, as I whispered in his ear, giggling, "Thanks, Anthony, for inviting me to have dinner in a cajun restaurant..." He rolled off, laughing, his cock even blacker now as it was covered with my wetness, our mixed juices... and then I noticed some blood on my thigh and I moved a bit and saw a reddish streak on the sheets. Anthony saw it too. I started to apologize for the mess but he said, "Oh, girl, I popped your cherry... you were a virgin after all. Should have known the white boy couldn't do it... you are officially a non-virgin..." I was still embarrassed, wanted to wash myself and change his sheets, do somethiong, but Anthony stopped me, "No, not now, later... we'll go shower later..." I put my head on his shoulder, my blonde hair covering his dark brown chest, and fell asleep.
 
So erotically pleasing as she loses her innocence
 
More beautiful each time. I can relate to all her experiences, except my breasts are not as sensitive, and probably not as large. I am always aware of my small breasts.