Carol Goes to the West Indies

"Give me that," Sarah giggled, grabbing her best friend Carol's boarding pass from the pocket of her carry-on bag. "Wait here."

Sarah had already been talking, more like flirting really, to that nice looking young man from Air Jamaica for what seemed like half an hour before confiscating her friend's pass. Now she was gone again. Sarah was actually skipping as she returned.

"I got us upgraded, I got us upgraded," she sang, waving Carol's new boarding document under her nose.

"What did you have to do to get that?" Carol asked suspiciously.

"Nothing."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Of course I promised you'd fuck him at 35,000 feet. Come on, we get to wait in the lounge."

"You didn't really tell him I'd do that did you?" Carol asked Sarah when they were seated comfortably in the first class lounge with a large rum Collins each.

"I'm pretty sure he knew I was joking."

"Pretty sure?"

"OK, moderately sure. What are you worried about anyway? It's not like you aren't jonesing for dark meat."

"Who says?"

"That picture Andy caught you looking at on your computer."

"Fuck Sarah. I knew I shouldn't have told you about that!"

"Well you did and you can't unring that bell. Besides, it worked out pretty damned well for you. Did Andy really say you could fuck all the black cock you wanted in Jamaica and he wouldn't mind?"

"Yes he did," Carol smiled knowing how jealous her friend was.

"He said that? That you had his permission to have sex with black guys?"

"Not in those words, no."

"What were his words?"

"He said he understood my curiosity."

"That's a pretty big stretch, Carol, to get from understanding being curious to telling you to go ahead and bang half the island."

"Stretch schmetch, we're going to the islands to get black cock laid and I'm having another drink!"

"What's this luv?" Andy asked looking at the picture of a big black cock Carol had left on her computer screen before she'd gone to the loo. He wasn't supposed to be back this soon. Now he'd seen it and she'd ruined everything. All of it. She couldn't think; all she wanted to do was run and hide.

That's what she did. She covered her face with her hands and ran to her bedroom, slamming the door and curling up in the fetal position on the bed.

Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! she screamed at herself as she lay there, hands over her eyes, hoping the hope of the ostrich.He knows, he knows, he knows!!

After a few terrifying moments where the bed seem to whirl at a frightening speed, like she and it were in some Kansas tornado hurtling toward Oz, Carol heard the door open and felt Andy's weight on the bed.

"What is it Carol?" he asked, gently rubbing her back.

"Leave me alone!" she yelled, angry with herself but taking it out on her boyfriend. She continued covering her face.

"Does this have anything to do with you and Sarah going to Jamaica?" Andy asked, continuing to stroke his fiancée.

She didn't answer. Had she fucked that up as well? Her sort of extended hen party, prior to her and Andy's upcoming marriage?What marriage? she laughed bitterly to herself.Why am I so stupid?

"Because if it is," Andy continued, "I shouldn't think that was such a horrid thing."

'What did he just say? Carol asked herself.Did he say it was OK that if I might be interested in black dick?

Andy continued rubbing Carol's back, trying to get her to open up to him. Gradually, she let him coax her to uncoil. She rolled over onto her back. His caresses moved to her tummy, just below her breasts.

"You're not mad?" Carol asked Andy as sweetly as she knew how.

"I don't think so," he answered. "Perhaps you should tell me more about the photo so I know how I should feel."

Immediately, Carol threw her best friend under the bus.

"It was Sarah," she said, perhaps too quickly. "She was here and she brought up that site. We were giggling about it and I forgot it was even there."

Upcoming marriage saved? she wondered.

Would Andy make her cancel her trip, though? That wouldn't happed she knew. The trip was too important to her. She'd get round Andy somehow on that. In the end, she'd have him insisting she go. It wasn't necessary. Andy had no problems with what he thought were simply the fantasies of a proper, middle-aged, mum.

"I think it's only natural that you should be curious," he told her.

"You do?"

"Certainly. Everyone hears about what bloody horse cocks those West Indians have. I'd be more suspicious if you weren't curious.

"You're not mad?"

"Of course not darling. It's only human I should think."

"He did have a big one, didn't he?" Carol laughed and Andy gave her a swat on her bottom.

"Don't go getting any island ideas," he cautioned.

"It's Sarah, not me," she lied and wondered why she felt it necessary to deceive her future husband.

"Sure it is, Sweetie, "he teased, "sure it is."

"Well it is my hen party after all," Carol pushed, wondering where Andy might actually draw the line. He hadn't been the jealous type.

"You're saying you might look at one while you're down there?"

"Strippers are a staple when blushing brides mourn their last night of freedom, aren't they?"

"You'd just look?"

"Sure I would Sweetie, sure I would."

"Why you randy little tart!" Andy exclaimed tickling her.

"Stop it!" Carol shouted laughing and kicking at him, flailing her legs while her skirt rode higher and higher.

Andy's hand, and soon his face, followed Carol's skirt up her legs, stroking and kissing his way to her knickers. Soon she was moaning and wondering if the dampness between her legs had given her away as Andy's wonderful tongue lapped away any lingering doubts she had about either her upcoming trip or her upcoming marriage.

The middle-aged white British beauties were comfortably ensconced in their plush leather first-class seats as they jetted high above the Atlantic. Carol looked lazily out the window at the ocean more than thirty thousand feet below while Sarah read a magazine. Both were on their second rum and Coke when the tap on Sarah's shoulder came.

The bright, black face of the youth who'd upgraded their tickets beamed. The lower jaws of the white mums slackened under the assault of a most gorgeous smile.

"Would you meet me in the back, please?" he asked Sarah. "By the loos."

"But I thought..." Sarah began in protest.

The black youth put his finger to his lips to quiet her and walked toward the back of the first class section. Sarah looked at her friend for a moment then shrugged, then giggled. If black cock were the purpose of their trip, and it was, no time like the present to begin. She stuck out her tongue at Carol then unbuckled her seat belt.

"Oh god, Carol," Sarah whispered, trembling, "should I?"

"Are you ready? It's your first," said Carol stating the obvious.

"He's not going to have any trouble pushing in, that's for sure," Sarah whispered, blushing.

"Why you randy tart!" Carol exclaimed, giving her friend an elbow.

"Like you're not...wish me luck."

Sarah walked in the direction the hunky black steward had gone leaving Carol to imagine what that lovely young black stud was capable of. Her eyes were closed; her cunt had just begun turning into a molten mess when Sarah returned.

"Oh shit!" Sarah exclaimed, her face flushed. "I've never cum so quickly in my entire life! God Carol, you were right, his cock was incredible!" Sarah whispered, her ragged breathing returning to normal. "Jesus!" she continued, her body spasming in orgasmic aftershock, "I'm still cumming!"

"So it was good for you?" Carol teased.

"Don't be a cunt," Sarah teased back. "Plus it's your turn in the barrel. He's waiting for you."

"Where?"

"Back in the toilet."

"Which one?"

"Just knock, somebody will let you in," Sarah said, closing her eyes and smiling contentedly.

Carol nervously knocked on a door whose lock said vacant. It was empty. She was forced to knock on one of the occupied doors. Fortunately her first selection opened and she could see the steward with his pants around his ankles. She quickly ducked inside lest she be seen.

As she pulled the door closed behind her and locked it, the image of that shiny black cock hanging half hard, a string of cum dangling from its slit, fired her already heated loins. He said nothing but the downward pressure of his hands on her shoulders told her all she needed to know. Unlike her friend, Carol was there for her mouth.

Is there something about me? Carol wondered as she squatted in the cramped room.Something that tells a man I'm a cocksucker? It seemed to her that they seemed to know. At least the black ones did.

Carol reached up and cupped the young man's balls while she studied his cock. It was beautiful, almost jet-black with streaks of white cum decorating the shaft and head. She could also see and smell the slick, clear fluid Sarah had left on him, shining his shaft and matting the pubic hairs at the base.

She felt his hand on the back of her head, urging her forward. A combination of excitement and disgust confused her as she briefly contemplated sucking her friend's juices off this stranger's dick. That the remnants of his cum were there excited her. She was eager to taste that, but what she was about to do was only one step removed from eating Sarah out directly. Carol shuddered as she opened her mouth.

Her eyes closed as she felt that semi-soft-semi-firm chocolate cock slide across her salivating tongue. She knew her own taste well and Sarah's flavor wasn't drastically different from her own. The cock twitched as her lips closed around it. Carol swirled her tongue around the underside of the shaft and heard the black man moan. The beautiful cock began to grow.

After a few minutes, the black cock was nearly erect and she took it out of her mouth to admirer it. Wherever she saw traces of cum or cunt juice that she hadn't been able to reach while the shaft was in her mouth, Carol cleaned compulsively with her tongue. She spent the next five minutes licking every square millimeter of that lovely cock and balls.

The young crewman's cock was a thing of beauty, perfectly proportioned between length and girth. Carol let him slide it in and out of her mouth and felt her own body reacting to the sweet mouth fucking she was getting. She opened wide and lolled her tongue out over her bottom teeth, inviting him to stroke deep, to touch the entrance to her throat, to force a swift, stifled gagging and tears into her eyes.

"Your cock is beautiful. I love the feel of it in my mouth," Carol said, looking into the young man's eyes.

She wanted to excite him, to let him know how badly she wanted him, and how much she enjoyed mouthing him. But most of all, she wanted to make him cum. She'd learned over many sessions, both in person and electronically, with Blaine that, as much as she loved sucking cock, at heart, she was a cumslut.

The animating force that had propelled her to kneel in that confining restroom was not the prospect of sucking young black cock, but of swallowing black cum. She'd even had a debate with herself while he was fucking Sarah that, if he wanted to fuck her, she'd demand that he pull out at the end so she could finish him with her mouth.

He was well on his way now though. She felt the urgency in the thrust of his hips and the tightness of the clutch of her hair. Her hand crept under her skirt and into her knickers as he humped her face wildly. She felt her own orgasm approach with the speed of the jet in which she flew. Her clitoris throbbed as she stroked her labia; her nipples threatened to shatter.

She became lost, delirious when she felt the cockshaft begin to pulse. She knew the cum was being pumped up now, from its source in the scrotum to the male plumbing and other organs of sexual necessity and would soon come firing out of that lovely, wonderful slit that permitted its egress into her waiting mouth.

She wasn't disappointed as jet after jet splashed over her tongue and, together with her finger on her clit, sated her lust.

After passing through customs, Carol and Sarah found themselves walking out into the bright, warm sun. It was such a refreshing change from the cold and clouds and snow they'd left behind. They walked toward what appeared to be a taxi stand when a bright young black face greeted them with at smile.

"Pretty ladies want to fuck?" he asked.

The beautiful, mature Brits hurried silently past but burst into giggles once inside the taxi. They gave the graying gentleman in the driver's seat the name of their hotel and settled back. All Sarah wanted to do in the taxi was talk about the black youth at the airport.

"Would you have done him?" she asked Carol breathlessly. "I would have done him."

"Stay away from that kind," the driver said without invitation. His voice was deep and kindly, fatherly, a voice one could trust. "They will be at your hotel, the ones you are seeking."

Both Carol and Sarah shivered at what appeared to be common knowledge on the island that they were there for the young black men.

"How much are they?" Sarah blurted out without thinking.

The driver laughed a deep rumbling chuckle. "Never give them money. Our laws forbid it. They will take you to shops where you can express your gratitude with clothing and jewelry, perhaps fifty or a hundred euros.

"Every day?" Sarah gasped. This was going to be an expensive vacation.

"It is polite," he answered. "Is this your first time here for the romance?"

"Our first time here for anything," Sarah answered.

"Then you may find yourself skipping a day or two. You're not used to how satisfying our boys can be compared to the men of your island. The magnitude of the lengths to which they go will surprise you."

Both of the pale, late forties, European beauties were stunned and excited by the polished innuendo the driver used to fire their passions. Carol felt a flood building in her loins; Sarah's nipples were so hard it seemed as if, were she to lie on her belly, those two points would support her chest.

The women spent the remainder of the day sunning themselves, but only enough to get their cheeks and shoulders pink, and taking regular trips to the shade of the tiki bar next to the pool. The warmth of the tropical sun settled and relaxed them, boiling away any trace of inhibition either woman my still have harbored regarding paying for sex.

A parade of handsome young men stopped by and attempted to chat them up. They worried about settling for the first offerings and sent several away before Raphael appeared. As luck would have it, both friends wanted him. Who could blame them? Before them stood a twenty-two year old god, black as soot, muscles everywhere, and a bright smile as broad as the Thames at high tide.

He wore a sleeveless shirt of white silk that hugged his body and a pair of pastel blue spandex shorts that emphasized his enormous bulge. Sarah gasped as she stared directly at it.

"What would you like to drink?" Sarah asked, recovering quickly, staking an immediate claim.

The conversation flowed easily. Their flight, the weather, the names and ingredients of the drinks they consumed. Sarah was all over young Raphael, even sitting in his lap at one point. It was abundantly clear that she wanted him and that left Carol the odd man out.

"Do you know someone...else?" Sarah asked Raphael thoughtfully. "For Carol?"

"This is our busy season," Raphael answered. "But there might be someone..."

"Who?!?" Sarah asked eagerly, more than a little inebriated.

"I have a cousin but he has no experiences yet."

"Interested in a virgin?" Sarah asked Carol, giggling so hard a snort escaped her nose.

"I don't know..." Carol said, faking uncertainly. Inside she was thrilled at the thought.

"Don't worry, mum," Raphael reassured her. "He's only eighteen but he's already bigger than I."

What did he mean, bigger, Carol wondered as a smile spread over her lips and Raphael dialed his mobile phone. Michael was even more gorgeous than his cousin, tall, lean, and black. Carol could even detect a bit of buyer's remorse as Sarah eyed her own "date."

Quickly the foursome settled the bar bill and retired to the suite the two proper, white, British mums (and covert black cock sluts) had reserved for the week. Sarah took Raphael's hand and hurried into her bedroom closing the door behind her.

"You look very nice," Carol said, trying to put the obviously nervous teen, whose cock she would purchase, at ease.

"Thank you mum," he answered curtly.

"Do you like me?" Carol asked, begging for a compliment, spinning around so her skirt would fly out displaying her bare legs briefly.

"Yes, mum." Conversation didn't appear to be Michael's strong suit.

"Do you know why you're here?" Carol asked, suddenly unsure that the youth knew what was going on."

"Oh yes, mum."

"Have you done this before?"

"No, mum, not with a white woman at least."

"Have you done it with island girls?"

"Yes, mum, some things anyway."

"What things?"

"Things with our hands, her hands."

"She wanked you?"

"Yes mum."

"That's all?"

"So far."

"How did it feel?"

"Oh it was the most wonderful feeling."

"Do you have any questions?"

"How old are you?"

The question was so unexpected, Carol burst out laughing. "I'm forty-seven. Does that bother you?"

"Oh no Miss Carol, I was just wondering."

"Any other questions?" Carol asked, still smiling at the young stud who was about to surrender his black cock to her.

"I'm not sure what to do but that's not really a question."

"What would you like to do?"

"Every boy says that the white ladies have the nicest mouths."

"Oh they do, do they?" Carol purred, warming to her task.

She slid off her chair and knee-walked over to the young man. She knew she wanted to suck his cock at least as much as he wanted it, probably more. Through Sarah's door, she could hear the sounds of her friend getting fucked. Her body was on high, horny alert as she slid her hands up Michael's thighs.

Carol was determined that she would give the best blowjob the boy had ever had. Not exactly a demanding challenge since he'd never before experienced one. Still, she could make sure that all to come wouldn't live up to the loving sucking she was prepared to deliver. It might seem strange, but she spent the next nine hours sucking Michael's glorious black dick until the kid had to pry her mouth off the raw, injured flesh.

Three days later, Sarah, Raphael, and Carol waited on a corner for Michael so they could again go shopping for the boys. Raphael warily eyed a police car as it circled the block a second time. He pulled back from the women when it stopped at the curb. This was trouble he didn't need. A police sergeant exited the vehicle and approached.

"Will you come with me please, ma'am?" he asked Carol.

"What's this about?" Sarah asked, interjecting herself as if by instinct.

"I'll explain at the station," he answered.

"I'm coming too," Sarah declared.

"Suit yourself."

Carol and Sarah both noticed Michael sitting in a glass paned office but he didn't see them. Could this be about Michael? Carol suddenly worried. Was he under age she wondered and silently cursed herself for believing him when he said he was eighteen when he looked so young. Or would she be charged with some crime related to prostitution?

Her blood ran cold then hot as she contemplated being imprisoned but also having everyone she knew learn that she was a slut. Sarah was forced to wait out front while the sergeant, Carol, and Michael entered an interrogation room.

"Do you know this young man?" the sergeant asked Carol. She acknowledged she did.