Black Stud

Yet another English story, no doubt exasperating my US friends. I make no apologies for writing them, it's the world I know and whilst we might share a resemblance of language, many customs and habits are quite different from yours. For instance in this story, you'll note our paper delivers actually deliver the papers to our door, instead of throwing them across the porch, or stuffing them in a tube at the end of the drive. Read on - but you might find other little gems to puzzle and amaze you...

*****

As I walked past the front door on my way to the bathroom in my small, new ground floor apartment , looking forward to my first bath in my own, my very own, after a weeks travelling on business, the evening newspaper shot through the letterbox, startling me as it landed with a thud on the carpet.

"Shit!" came the expletive, just audible over the sound of my TV and the howling gale outside.

There was no one else in my pad, the TV showed a cookery programme so the sound must have come from outside. I opened the door, not being afraid although it was dark. I'm nearly six feet tall and I work out every day at my company gym. Stooping in my porch, looking extremely bedraggled and hassled was the paper delivery chap.

"Hi! Was it you I heard swear?"

He looked up at me from his stooped position, arms full of soggy newspapers and trying to balance a cycle.

"Sorry. didn't mean to. It's just that my bag split and..."

The wind blew a burst of rain onto me and I covered up, but not quite quick enough to conceal the flash of thigh he had obviously got, stopping his words. It was freezing cold and I wore a dressing gown and very little else. December in England, Christmas a few days away and the sudden snowfall we had been surprised by in the South had thawed and replaced with slushy wet and windy weather, just in time for the festive season - great!

"Hey! Don't worry. I'm used to swearing, it just surprised me that's all," I grinned down at him pleasantly.

He shrugged and the glimmer of a sheepish grin curled his big, pink, rubbery lips. I grabbed a long wool coat off the hanger, threw it round me and stepped outside, carefully extracting the door key.

"Looks like you need help sonny," I suggested and he frowned, what the fuck for?

"No no it's OK. These are spares, it's my idea just in case papers get damaged, I bring a few out, you're the last on my round." he told me as I wrestled the cycle from his grasp.

"Well that's very thoughtful and organised I must say, now let me help. Stick your bike there," I told him, shoving it against a wall. "Jeez! its cold out here...and wet. You're soaked through."

I was getting that way too. It was blowing a real hoolie. He muttered something and gathered up the newspapers, trying to hold them together, but failing in the strong wind.

"You know, some people would have just left them. I'm glad to see you didn't," I ventured, gathering a few stray supplements for him. Then I remembered. "You Syd?" I asked.

He nodded, standing up and I noticed how slight and short he was for a nineteen year old.

"Oh I got your Christmas card, but been away on business for a few days. Was going to pop your tip down to the shop," I grinned. "You can save me a trip, want it now?"

It was common practice for the paper boys to slot a card into the customers papers, just before Christmas. They deserve something and I always paid them handsomely. I was loaded and they provided a service. He shrugged and then nodded.

"Right come in, bring those in and we'll dump them properly," I gestured at the papers as I keyed the door.

We got into the hall and I bundled the lot up and slopped through to the kitchen utility in my slippers. My feet were freezing. When I returned, Syd was shivering so much he was almost a blur. Water dripped from him, on my expensive carpet, but it could stand rain and I saw that his worn Nikes had the top ripped on one foot. His tight crinkled black hair was a mass of sparkling rain drops.

"Why don't you wear a hat Syd?" I asked ushering him through to the kitchen.

I sniffed the fresh paint and surfaces as I always do when I relish the newness of the place. Syd's ripped trainer squelched with each step. He shrugged, his main gesture obviously.

"Haven't got one."

"Yeah but there's a hood in here," I argued, grabbing his anorak collar.

He shrugged again.

"Look take it off and your trainers and warm through eh? I'll get you a coffee or something...tea perhaps and you'll get a specially big tip I promise. I appreciate what you lads do for us singles in this world. Go on, I won't bite."

Syd pondered and studied me and I saw his gaze slip to my bare legs. The gown came just above my knees. I waited patiently and as his eyes returned up to my face, instinctively, I pulled the dressing gown, a now scruffy, well worn towelling version from the Ritz in Paris, round my chest.

"Coffee then?" I asked brightly, he didn't answer as he slid his wet anorak off.

I grabbed it and hung it over a chair back, then switched on a fan heater aimed towards it. He nodded and grinned and then bashed his hands against his jeans, spraying water over the tiled floor. They were sodden wet too; I can remember on ski holidays, people trying to save money and ski in jeans instead of proper wear, they get soaked. He stood near the breakfast bar. I poured him a black coffee from the filter and shoved the cream and sugar at him. He took both and held the mug in his hands warming them. I saw the delicacy of his long fingers, black tendrils with almost gaudy pink contrasting beneath. They didn't match the brutal features of his pugnacious negro face, but I love that dramatice change in skin pigmentation in coloured folk.

"Look. I was just going to have a bath and chill out with a pizza. Its been a long week, so while I'm doing that, why don't you warm through down here. Take your tee shirt off and your jeans if you want and I'll bang this heater up real fast and you can sit over it for half an hour. On it if you want," I giggled.

Quite why I had taken this waif under my roof in such magnanimous fashion I don't know. Was it the Christmas spirit creeping in? Up to now I had not been the slightest Chrissmassy. My partner had fucked off two months ago for someone else and it had shook me to the core and I was still mystified as was everyone who knew him.

"Gotta get back," he slurped, the hot coffee burning his lips and he wiped them with the back of his hand.

"OK," I answered. "Up to you, dinner ready is it?"

That reminded me and I turned to my fridge and bent to take a frozen pizza out. It slipped to the floor and I said, "Oh shit..."

I glanced up at him, he was staring at my legs which had splayed. I knew I wasn't flashing anything but I pulled the gown round me as I gathered up the box and placed it beside him. His coal bright eyes were burning into mine and I turned away. His pink tongue slowly coursed over the mass of bottom lips that sort of hung vacantly loose for most of the time. It was a gesture, an expression I could have expected from someone maybe twice his age and I ignored it.

"My favourite Quattro Stagione, four seasons," I said, breaking the tense silence.

"I know, it's mine too," he answered.

"Have some, part of your Christmas tip. I'll micro it, won't take long," I suggested.

Syd nodded and perched on a stool, surprisingly willing.

"Better still, I'll stick it in the oven to heat up, you watch it and I'll be along after my bath."

He shrugged again and watched me load the oven, drinking coffee in little gulps.

I left him and went to the bathroom. Why did I trust him in the place? No cash, poor gear, monosyllabic, black as the night. I threw the gown off and turned the taps. The water gushed noisily, reminding me I needed a piss. It was a relief as my splashes into the toilet echoed the taps. Just finished, I heard a squeal, a loud squeal and dashed to the kitchen. Syd was flapping at his jeans and I smelt singeing.

"Shit! my jeans, they're burning," he cried.

I grabbed them and saw they had a slight mark. It was nothing considering the rough state of the garment already. His tee shirt flapped round his boxers as I pacified him.

"Suppose you had them too near," I suggested.

He nodded but didn't register at my face. He was staring, goggle eyed at me. I should have held his jeans in front of me but didn't and he got full views of my bursting cream silk 38E cup brassiere and matching thong. Our eyes did meet, then the water gushing, seemed to click in my mind and I thrust the jeans at him and shot out to the bathroom. There was no risk of flooding, things had happened too quickly. I turned the taps off and felt a presence. Whirling, I spotted his face peeking at me round the door of the kitchen, across the hall and into the bathroom. He disappeared, guiltily. I marched along the hall to close the kitchen door, the bathroom door was off its hinges, waiting a new one due to some warping timber in the new pad. My feet thudded on the carpet in my angry state. I glanced with venom into the kitchen and saw Syd cowering against the worktop.

"How old are you Syd?" I challenged.

"Eighteen," he whimpered.

"Well you're old enough to know you don't peep on girls, especially those that's being kind to you eh?"

Syd shrugged, but looked suitably chastened, his eyes roving over me and again I realized I was half naked. But then things changed. I noticed changes in him. Jutting his shorts out was the clear unmistakable emerging bulge of his cock. I licked my lips absently and felt flushed. Being very pale, I also blush very easily and maybe the kid spotted this, because the bulge jutted even more. I saw it move. BLACK COCK shrieked at me and I remembered my one and only fuck with one. The holiday in Jamaica that I won for top sales figures two years ago.

"Eighteen eh?" I simpered and he nodded sheepishly.

Shit! He didn't look his age, more like a boy, but he twitched it again. My knees nearly buckled and my cunt started to juice as my mind saw Leroy in Kingston and that eight inch salami he'd rammed into me every day and night for fourteen of the fifteen days. I was so tender, I had difficulty sitting on the plane coming home, the flight being particularly sticky because he'd screwed me in the VIP toilets at the airport with the help of his pal Bobby, who was a cleaner. Bobby had been allowed to peep as a reward from both of us, for help and keeping a watch out. I spoke to Leroy on my phone and he told me that Bobby fancied me too and he had ten inches of permanent stiffy. I told Leroy that if we'd had more time Bobby could have shagged me too. I meant it as I adore thick cock being rammed up my snatch.

I'd run for the plane, without time to clean up and for hours his cum had seeped out of me. I must have stunk the 747 out, but didn't care. At 24 years old and racy with it, I could charm any buyer to purchase our software and on 48K plus BMW and Health Insurance, shares etc I was successful. But not in the love game.

My ex - Colin, had fucked off with another guy. Think about it - Fuck! My man of two years was gay and he could shaft me like Leroy could, although not with the same sized dong. I'd met him soon after Jamaica and it was a blessing to someone on a sexual high and he fitted in beautifully - all three holes and shot gallons of his Irish whiskey flavoured jism down my throat. Anyway, he fucked off.

Syd twitched his jeans submerged dick again and I walked towards him, thinking how Colin McMurdy would be probably reaming his shit hole of a man at this moment.

"And what do we have here Syd?" I asked softly, staring at his crotch.

He whimpered and tried to cross his legs. The last thing he should have done. His knob found the slit of his boxer shorts and burst out, pink ended wet and looking very tasty. I knelt quickly and glanced up at his terrified face.

"You got a girl?" He shook his head vigorously.

"Ever done a girl... you know - with this?" I continued, cupping my hand round the solid shaft supporting his knob.

"Noooo... " he stammered, his voice wavering pitches.

"You know what to do with it?" I queried, putting my lips about half an inch away from it and pushing the white cotton material back against his belly.

His head nodded and he muttered.

"I think so."

"Think so? Want to learn, if you only think so? You've got a beautiful cock Syd...for nineteen, any man would be proud of this."

The lad mewed and twitched it, probably subconsciously as I admired its solidity. It wasn't huge, more chunky than long and he had been cut too although he wasn't too fragrant. I like uncut dicks best, more flesh to play with. I insinuated my hands inside his shorts and grabbed his balls. They were small and hot and I stroked them.

"Like that... and that?" I asked as I rubbed his dick.

His terrified eyes nodded and I again questioned my adult, successful sale woman sanity and the risks of playing with fire. What the fuck was I doing?

"More?" I whispered.

"Mmmm!" he simpered.

I unhooked my bra and let my big tits fall out. He spluttered as they swayed and then I gathered them and rubbed them round his horizontal cock. The whiteness of my boobies against the black of his shaft was startling. I kept focused on his face and saw the gradual relaxation of the being pampered male. His eyes half closed, his tongue hung out and I could smell my snatch. God! It was strong, but I'd been negotiating hard all day, had a long drive home and then done the paperwork before deciding to relax and bathe. I am always wet.

Syd's shorts slid down and he stepped clumsily out of them. His bright yellow socks came off too. I don't fuck guys in their socks. I told him to take his shirt off and he obeyed as I worked on his cock, drooling at the solidity and thickness.

As I said, he wasn't hugely long, say five inches, but it had a considerable girth and when he reached his prime, it would be quite a weapon for all those foxy chicks he would get. He had a cute patch of sparse tight curly pubes and I clawed my nails through them. His body was hard, slim and somewhat delicate and shone in the glow of my under cabinet lighting.

"You gonna suck me?" he squeaked audaciously.

I glanced up at his inexperienced interruption, just as I was about to lock my mouth onto his knob.

"Yeah, got a problem? Don't want me to?"

"It might smell, that's all," he whimpered.

"It smells great Syd, Don't you worry," I smiled and with that I swallowed him whole.

I felt his body shudder as I plated him, licking round the smooth pink dome, under his very cheesy ridge, then up into the slit. My hands went to his butt and pulled him on to me, my head rocking now. I came up for air and spoke.

"You've got a lovely dick Syd. Its one of the best I've ever seen..."

I was going to say on an nineteen year old, which would have been so true, but in one pulse and twitch, his knob suddenly fountained his cum all over my face. His phlegm gurgled, his body writhed and his legs buckled as his tight gonads gave up what I guessed was his first blow job induced orgasm. At least, it was the first decent blow job he'd had, I guessed. I mewed and managed to get my mouth round his spurting and swallow as much as I could of his salty sperm until suddenly he stilled and sobbed quietly, repeating the word 'sorry' several times.

I persuaded the last drop out of him, then stood and pulled his wet face down, not a lot, I dwarfed him, into my mountainous tits. I wrapped them round his woolly head and I felt his arms snake round my butt, as he sobbed gently. A good sign, he was comforted. After a while of rocking and cooing, my legs were aching and I prised him away from me. His face stared up with wonder until he smiled broadly and spoke.

"That was cool, thanks. But I didn't know that would happen so quickly."

I hugged him again and pressed my half inch thick nipple into his mouth. He suckled like a hungry baby as I felt between us and found his flaccidity. He murmured as I clutched it.

"Come on Syd, let's lie down," I suggested.

He meekly followed my lead and I made sure my ass wiggled all the way to the bedroom. My thong would not have hidden fuck all of my voluptuous butt and its a sight that gets most of my lovers going. I sat on the bed and patted the spread for him to sit next to me. His dick flopped around deliciously as he moved and joined me.

"Seen a cunt yet?" I asked blatantly.

He shook his head and his eyes widened as I drew off my thong. It took some extracting from my crack and the wave of fanny odour seeped into the atmosphere.

"Phew! You said you might be smelly. I'm the same Syd," I chuckled and he grinned, but stared at my pubes.

They were free growing but light and fluffy and fair like my hair. I hardly ever trimmed them, didn't need to.

"Seen pubes before...no?" I asked.

"All I seen is shaved ones...you know ...porno stuff," He mumbled. "Not a real one."

I lay back and spread my legs, half wondering whether I would frighten him off with my brazen sexuality.

"Well take a look at a cunt with pubes Syd. Feel free to touch. Aren't you the lucky one to find a sex mistress? Better than your French mistress was at school I'll bet."

My boobs slid sideways, nipples as big as Christmas tree bulbs, they certainly felt hot, as I raised on my elbows to see what he would do. He leaned over my right thigh and peered between my legs. Then he placed his hand on my knee and glanced at me. I nodded, my eyebrows raised encouragingly. I raised my left leg and put my foot on the bed, letting my knee drop sideways. That opened the gates for him a bit more and he gasped as he saw my jewel. The jewel in my crown is the single diamond stud in my labia, actually pierced though my clit hood. It's only visible when my pussy is opened. It is tiny, smooth and expensive and doesn't hurt the guys or me when we fuck. I flushed automatically as always when a guy looks at my cunt, even though many have seen it and knew Syd would surely have seen cunt juices seeping out.

"Is that real? he asked, his hand creeping up my thigh.

"Yep! One hundred percent diamond. Don't think about pinching it eh? It'll hurt," I chuckled, keeping the atmosphere light and jokey with the inexperienced youth.

He grinned widely and I felt his fingers trace over my fanny. I shuddered as his black artist's quality digits started to roam, round my mound, into my pubes, over the hood of my clitty and down into the tight vee at the bottom of my gash. I could smell my personal odours so strongly now, so he must have done, but they were tinged with something else and it wasn't his dick, which I'd virtually washed. Suddenly it dawned on me.

"The fucking pizza in the oven," I screeched and knocked him sideways.

I slithered off the bed and galloped, tits lolloping about - dangerously near to door frames and things, to the kitchen. Luckily the smoke alarm hadn't kicked in and I rescued the food - sort of. Burnt edges, that's all. I heard Syd shuffle into the kitchen as I surveyed the damage.

"I didn't do French at school, but I do like cooking. I'm training to be a chef," he added proudly.

It was a weird statement I thought at the time, but appropriate I suppose in the context of things. There we were, the oddest of odd couples, a twenty-four year old white girl and a eighteen year old black youth, both naked in a very up market kitchen, gazing at a burnt pizza. Well I was, Syd was gazing, no gawking at me and his beautiful dong was up again. Suddenly I had a black sausage to gaze at and slid the pizza into the bin. It was dispensable, but that five inch tool waggling at me wasn't.

"Come here and fuck me Syd," I ordered. His eyes shot wide, eyebrows near his curly black brow and he gulped.