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fyre
10-24-2007, 06:38 PM
I get asked a lot: “Tell me about the first time you were with a black man.”

Now, it is usually a white man who asks this. I’m not sure why. Am I on the white team and I’m supposed to report back? I think it’s a little fascination with that with which they cannot have.

I do want to say that I am not typically asked, “When was the first time you did it with an Asian?” Or “When was the first time you fucked a Hispanic?” I actually have good answers to both those questions, not that I have kept track of my lovers according to race. I usually don’t keep a mental list of “famous firsts.”

I wonder if this is a Mars vs. Venus kind of thing. Maybe men more typically categorize us by type. “I’ve done three women with 36DDD, two with A cups, five with 34 B’s and one giganda babe with 44GG’s. I’ve fucked two Asians, a Black chick, and a horny, drunk Irish girl.” Is this part of the little black book mentality? Maybe it’s because they just can’t remember our names!

My lists go like this: I did Shane, Shane again, Scott, Mark, Ward, that one guy I met at the beach, Devon...

I do think this: Sex with different people is truly unique to being with that one person. Probably, in most cases, I’m only as good with any one person as they are with me. So if, somehow, I’ve fucked Token Black Guy, I didn’t know it at the time. I have fucked Charles, and David, and Rashid, and Stacey and each of them are truly an original. I am definitely best at fucking Charles, because I know him intimately, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t give the others a memorable event. I’m skeptical though. I know, for example, that Stacey had his clothing slashed up by a crazy bitch one time, so how can I compete with that? Why even try?

I do have some good tricks. Most of my lovers have some good tricks. Put my tricks with your tricks, and voila! you have a recipe that cannot be duplicated. Oh yes, you can take the same ingredients and mix them up again, but it won’t be the same as that first time, if for no other reason than it will never again be that first time.

So–my first time with a black dude. I don’t remember his name. I want to say it was Clarence, but I would personally never name a child Clarence, so maybe that is why I have mentally blocked it out. I was twenty. On my list, he is “High School Basketball Camp Dude.” I worked on campus as an operator. If you want a little aside, my boss was Sarah Casada, and she went on to become a WA State Representative-R. She was a stupid woman, and my opinion of her did not change with her work in Congress.

“Hello?”
“Hello. You’ve reached the Operator. How can I help you?” I glanced at the clock. It was after 11.
“I wanna get laid. You know what I need?”
I immediately sat a little forward in my seat. I could honestly say I’d never gotten a call like this before. Of course, I realized that most women would hang up when they got a call like this one, but I was willing to punk the prank. I had 45 minutes left at the end of a very boring shift. We were in the middle of Summer Semester, so very few of the dorms were being used. I was thrilled to have a phone call. Any phone call. I wanted to see where this would go.

“Could you repeat that?”
“I wanna get laid. Yes, you heard that correctly.”

I was stumped. Who the hell called up the operator and asked for a quick fuck? No one I knew. I could tell the caller was black, and that intrigued the hell out of me. I went to college at Pacific Lutheran University, for crissakes. There wasn’t even a black man on the football team! From the light on my console, I could tell the call was originating from the dormitory where we were hosting high school basketball camp.

“No Sir,” I laughed nervously. It was important to me that no one else in the office could tell what we were talking about. “What can I help you with?”
“Well, Baby, I can see that you are not afraid to talk to a man about what he might want.”
“No, Sir, I’m not. Are you here for the basketball camp?”
“Yes, Ma’am, I am. And I’m in a very bad way. If you know what I mean.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you mean?”

I couldn't believe it! Here I was on the phone with a black man. A black man who specifically claimed to be “in a bad way.” And certainly he was in high school. I was rather giggly about it, and instantly felt the pulse of my pussy against white cotton panties.

“Well, Lady. You know. I have this big, hard dick. And I don’t even know what to do with it. I mean, of course, I know what to do with it. But that’s NOT what I want to do with it if I could find something else to do with it...”
“Go on.”
“What I’d really like to do with it is to find some woman like yourself to have a little fun with.”
“I could help with that.”

I was struggling to make comments that were non-committal enough for the office. We shared space with Campus Security. The night was so slow, some of them were playing cards. I knew they could hear me.

“You would?” he said, his voice cracking. Thank God, he was nervous too! It made things easier.
“Yes.”
“I’m real interested in that, you know. Would you fuck me, or just suck me off? Anything would help, you know...”

I was squirming. I couldn’t believe he was talking to me like this! Just being blunt. He didn’t mess around. It wasn’t like “Oh let’s go down to the Cave and have a cheese bagel.” It was direct. “Let’s get together and fuck.”

I had to say I liked it. But how was I going to make this happen?

“You’re in the Cascade Dorm?” I asked.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Would you quit calling me Ma’am?
It occurred to me that this guy didn’t know a thing about me. I could be 55 and ready to meet him after my shift and his dick was still going to be hard! That kind of messed with my head at the time, because I was, well, 20, and still fucking idealistic.

“Where you would go would be out the north end of that dorm. There’s a walkway up the hill. Climb the hill. Keep following the path to Admin...”
“You’re going to meet up with me?”
“Yes I am. At Twelve.”
“That’s real nice of you. That’s real nice of you, Ma’am.”
Would you quit saying that???

“Okay Sir. You have the directions?”
“Yes. I do. And I want to know if you are going to suck my hard, black dick.”
Oh Jesus, he was so direct.
“That would be fine. At twelve o’clock.” I hung up. I was shaking.

My heart was beating so fast I was sure they could hear it across the room! I took a drink of water. What was I thinking?

I didn’t really have a plan. Fuck no. I didn’t know this guy from Adam. I didn’t even ask his name! What if he was some kind of rapist? I wrote down the room number his call had come from. Just in case.

I don’t know how I got through the remainder of the shift. Of course, my mind was racing. What if we got caught? Where were we going to go? Would I actually follow through with it? What if he was just doing this for kicks? What if he brought the rest of the team? And finally, What if he stood me up?

My relief came and I got ready to leave. One of the Security Officers offered to walk with me, but I said no. Shit no, that’s the last thing I needed was one of the security guards following me home.

I lived off campus. I was just going to meet this guy where I told him and see what happened from there. No promises.

But if you know anything about me at all, if I say I’m going to do it, then I go through with what I said. I’d already told this man I was going to suck his hard, black dick. I walked up the hill to the junction by Admin.

He was there! Omigod!

He was about six foot three. All legs, like a Labrador puppy who hadn’t quite grown into his feet. I was so nervous. I didn’t know what to say.

“You the woman I talked to on the phone?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for meeting me like this. I appreciate it, Ma’am.”
“You don’t have to call me Ma’am. I’m twenty.”
He looked at me in the light. He looked at me as direct as he’d spoken on the phone. He made no bones about checking out my 36DD’s and my ass. “You’re pretty.”
“Thanks.”

Now I didn’t know what to think of him. He was just different. I didn’t go WHOOOO! You’ve been what I’ve been waiting for all my life. I just went Hmmmm.

Now part of me was worried. I mean, you know what they say. Most of the guys I knew topped out at five or six inches. Paul was Puerto Rican. He was probably seven, and he was spectacular. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. You know what they say?? It made me all wiggly with anticipation.

How do I tell this next part? I mean, the PERSON in me wants to say that he took me by the hand and we walked the streets that night, getting to know each other. I should say that we talked for an hour, found out how much we “clicked,” and that I was giddy and delighted and couldn’t wait to see him again...

But that’s not how it went. We walked up the hill and pushed through a torn part of the hedge. That put us in this back space, a lot, where there wasn’t much going on. If we said two words to each other, I don’t remember what it was. I might have said that this was my first time with a black guy. Would I have said that? Maybe. I remember he was hard. He just had on a warm up suit and the stretch fabric jutted out in a dangerous way. He couldn’t be THAT big, could he?

Next to the hedge, he pulled his pants down, just enough to let the big guy escape. Bo-o-oi-ing! It popped out. I thought it was going to take out my eye! Not really. I know that was what you were expecting.

You want me to tell you how huge he was. He really was big. You want me to say that he smelled distinctly “black,” and I’m sure he did. It wasn’t bad. It was just different. Like I told you, much to your dismay, I pretty much went Hmmmm. I’ll tell you what he was not. He did not smell like chewing tobacco like the guys who’d pawed me back in high school. He did not drawl out his vowels and wear a John Deere hat with goat shit on the edge.

He smelled like a man. I love men! And I took his dick into my mouth and felt it get even firmer. I wasn’t sure how to suck it all, because it was awkward. I know there’s never a girl in one of these porn stories who will admit she wasn’t all-knowing every time, but faced with an extra three inches, I didn’t know what to do!

“How do you like it?” I asked, nervous as hell.

He guided my hand. “You’re doing fine.”

Then it was this groaning and a collapse of bodies in the hard dirt. I pulled my pants off and he pushed himself inside. He was athletic and felt so divine against my body, all muscles and hairless skin. He wasn’t romantic. He was needy.

He fucked me good. I stared at the stars, then closed my eyes and tried to memorize the way he felt inside. His dick was wonderful and nudged into depths I wasn’t used to having stirred. Again. I thought “hmmm.” That time it was followed by an “I’d like a chance to get used to this...”

And he was young, and it was over, and when I got up to walk the rest of the way home, the glob of his cum leaked back out and totally stained my panties. I got home, still feeling the “hmmm” of it all. I rinsed off, and crawled into bed, my pussy still soaked with anticipation and giggles.

My husband rolled over and “You made it. Good day at work?”

Hmmmm. “Yes, it was a great night. I had a great shift.”

And there wasn’t much more I allowed myself to think about. I was too young to be so married and that was the night I first knew it.

davesmistress
10-24-2007, 06:48 PM
Another good addition...thanks....:)

freedom
10-24-2007, 09:38 PM
Another great story....thanks

num1scamp
10-25-2007, 12:38 AM
Great story........my kind of girl!

Kristin
10-25-2007, 03:36 PM
You write really good... I can piture it all happening in my head...
Love it, Fyre

niteowluk2003
10-26-2007, 12:47 PM
Once agai9n a well told, well written story.... many thanks.