Domestic Bliss

Inklings. Just inklings. Within the shrouded mists of slumber. Inklings of cosiness. Sexy warmth. Euphoric touches. Fluttering and elusive. Suddenly fleeing my mind as I awake. But even as these cherished impressions dash from view, my soul is somehow still anchored deep within their melded evaporating aura of sympathetic arousal. Opening my eyes to meet the clean, fine summer morning light filtering through the net curtain, I momentarily watch the curtain lifting ever so slightly with the faintest of breezes.

Yes, I was dreaming of being intimate with someone. Yes, I’m not sure who with. Yes, doesn’t feel like my boyfriend. More like a close friend, or perhaps someone I used to know. But not my boyfriend. Adore him though I do.

Our little one bedroom flat, nestled on the top floor under the eaves of this old, five-storey Victorian terrace house, is our little sanctuary. A world of textures, of books filled with stories and poetry and knowledge, of films and games, of tenderness and vulnerability, of sensuality and kinkiness. Private and sacrosanct, away from all the terrors and horrors and tedium of the world outside.

My nerves are thrumming lushly with the narcotic kiss of last night’s wine. Stroking a sleepy hand over my breasts beneath the sheet, my fingers discover my nipples are stiff. My other hand touches my snatch. Damp and sticky. I slide the tips of my fingers inside myself. If only I could recall the dream. It felt like it was very, very sweet.

Drowsily searching my thoughts, I try to pry open the tiniest, fading little hints from the dream. But… no. All gone.

Never mind, I console myself, my fingertips playfully idling over my labia, because it’s Saturday. And Saturdays are the best. The soul-destroying grind of Monday to Friday is over and our time is ours again. Sundays are nice too, but we catch up with family on Sundays and our timetable is never so free and easy. But today is Saturday, our day. We deliberately organise jobs like shopping and laundry during the week so that on Saturdays we literally have nowhere we need to go, and nothing we have to do.

Abandoning any hope of recovering the dream, I stretch to rouse myself to wakefulness, my flesh luxuriating in the sensual, soporific quietude of soul induced by the prospect of a whole day ahead filled with nothing but leisure and pleasure. A day without obligation. Ours to indulge. For only us.

It’s going to be a warm sunny day. The aromas of my boyfriend’s body fill my nostrils as I turn to look at him, laying asleep on his side, facing away from me, naked, with half the bedsheet twisted round his legs. My lover, my soulmate, my gorgeous kinky-ass boyfriend.

I place a hand ever so lightly on his back between his shoulder blades. I love the look of my very dark brown skin against his milky white skin. It excites me. He stirs slightly as I feel his soft flesh alive and warm to my touch. My hand smooths down his back, luxuriating in his supple, slender physique, coming to a rest on his hip.

I shift closer and begin kissing his back, moving my lips down from his shoulders, following the line of his spine, then around his taut waist, over the fine upward hip and back down to his silky smooth buttocks. His butt cheeks flutter as I plant thick kisses all over them.

Oh I could just so bite into that sweet juicy ass!

So I do exactly that.

Hard.

“Ow!” he yelps and jumps, turning his head round to scowl at me with a sleepy frown furrowing his brow. “That really hurt!”

“Good,” I tell him. “It was meant to.” I give the plump little buttock a really sharp smack that I know will sting.

“Ow!” he yells again. “Why are you being so mean?”

“Because you deserve it,” I tell him, and grab the sheet and pull it out from around his legs.

“Why? What have I done?”

“I don’t know yet,” I say, perusing his lily white body up and down. I need to make that sweetness suffer. I twist our sheet into a rope. “Now stop whining and put your arms above your head.”

He does what I tell him and I tie his wrists firmly together with the twisted bedsheet, securing them to the bedpost. He gives me a coy, almost helpless glance over his shoulder. I smack his bottom hard, repeatedly, so his white buttocks are glowing a rosy red around the deeper red of the teeth marks I left in the cheek I bit. Scrumptious. He thrusts his bottom out lasciviously at me. He knows what’s coming.

“You’re a dirty little slut,” I tell him. I turn to reach behind me into the middle drawer of the bedside cabinet. I pull out a tube of gel and my prized long, smooth, gold vibrator. He watches me intently over his shoulder as I spread gel along the sleek gold shaft. He can’t hide the glee in his eyes.

I snuggle back up closely behind him and smack his backside again so he jumps like the little slut he is. Then I smear some gel on his bum hole before beginning to push the sleek golden tip gently into his bottom. He squirms and moans as I penetrate him with the vibrator. I fuck him with it deeper and deeper, millimetre by millimetre. He loves it. He groans and pushes his bottom out to me and rocks his hips back and forth in rhythm with my probing. Oh just look at him writhing, offering his slinky White ass to be buggered by his horny Black lover. I keep attentively shafting that naughty bottom without turning on the vibrator for a good few minutes. The simple, sweet, delicate obscenity of doing my man like this is hypnotising. I love it. I love it!

I decide to escalate matters, and holding it still firmly up his arse, I twist the base of the shiny gold vibrator to switch it on. His eyes light up and I watch his face contort in sublime pleasure. Sliding my other arm beneath his neck, I clamp a hand over his mouth as I steadily push the vibrating gold rocket deeper into his bum. I feel his body tense then relax again as he surrenders to the pleasure. He groans wildly.

“That’s it,” I say into his ear, “moan for me, you little bitch!”

He’s gasping for air but I don’t release my grip over his mouth, making him pant excitedly through his nose. I peek over his waist to see his cock absolutely rock hard.

“Are you going to come?” I tease. “Are you going to come with my big golden cock up your slutty bottom? Bet you wish you could jerk yourself off while I fuck you. Look at you, hard as fuck for it, you filthy little slut!”

I’m giving him a deliciously tender, dirty shafting now. Rhythmically pushing in and out, nice and slow, deeper and deeper. He whimpers and wrestles weakly against my hold, his greedy bottom pushing appreciatively, hungrily, against my thrusts. For five minutes, maybe longer, I keep him dangling there in the thrall of unbearable pleasure, in a crazed kind of heaven. He’s writhing, panting, whining, taking it, giving himself up to my power. I mutter dirty-sweet everythings into his ear.

Then he grunts really loudly, and his whole body shudders and jolts vigorously, as if someone just flicked a switch.

“Is that it?” I ask in playful derision. “Right there? Is it that your sweet spot, my darling little cherub? Is it? Right there?” I’m pumping him with the golden shaft more quickly now, pressing it more firmly into that secret little trigger point I’ve found. I twist the base of the vibrator to change-up the speed and I keep driving into that sweet spot. I feel him break.

He’s trembling, shuddering, moaning, trance-like. Not quite with me anymore but at the same time thoroughly, essentially connected with every nuance of my touch. I’ve got him. He’s mine forever now. He melts in my arms, grunts and groans and then orgasms. Not the muscle-tensing, angst-packed desperation of a cock-pumping climax, but an altogether different, ethereal release, as if he’s swooping serenely through clouds of rapture, like I connected him with something cosmic, his whole being pulsating to the slow beat of a hidden transcendent song, an irresistible, soothing balm to the soul, lifting him up to be free of all his mortal constraints. In rippling spasms of ecstasy he gives everything up to me and his semen gushes freely like a waterfall from his hard, quivering cock.

“Oh fuck!” I yell excitedly. “Look at all that jizz!” 

He’s trembling, drifting in my arms. I delicately withdraw the golden rocket from his bottom and switch it off and place it onto a pile of tissues. I kiss my lover’s forehead as I reach up to release his wrists. I lean over him and dip my fingers into the cum on the bed. There’s so much of it.

“Oh my goodness!” I exclaim. “Get something hard up your boy twat and you just start spunking up all over the place don’t you? What a mucky slut!”

He smiles blissfully. I lick my fingers. His semen is sweet. He always shoots a sweet load. All the fresh fruit he eats.

I smack his arse. “Something to say?” I ask

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Thank you so much. That was just incredible.”

I roll him over to face me and we cuddle with him lying dozing in my arm. I feel my snatch. Dripping wet. I can’t resist slipping a finger in. Mmmm, uh-huh, too damn nice. I softly pleasure myself, exulting in the invigorating aura of my sensual power over my good little slut, my dirty little pervert, my nasty, kinky little fucker. Waves of pleasure intensify throughout my body. I ruffle his thick brown hair. “Whose little slut are you?” I ask him.

“Yours,” he replies through his cosiness. “I’m your little slut, babe.”

“That’s right,” I tell him. “And don’t you ever forget it!” And with that I hear myself sigh as I cum in a hot, sweet little climax, trembling and gripping his neck in the crook of my arm so hard he cries out.

My grip on him eases as every fibre, every molecule, every nuance of my being relaxes into a cloud of tranquil hypnotic bliss. I keep drifting deeper and deeper and deeper until I awaken again a little later to find we both fell asleep again together. The sunlight pouring into the room is brighter now, thicker, warmer.

A second awakening to Saturday. How joyous is that? I shake him awake and tell him to fix me breakfast and I push him playfully out of bed with my feet until he falls off the edge. He loves me pushing him around, and it sure works for me. I think today I’ll make my good little slut wear out his tongue pleasuring my pussy for me. Oh I do so love Saturdays. Yeah, Saturdays are definitely the best.

About Writing: Words Counts

In line with a number of online sources, I recognise the following word counts in categorising the length of a piece of writing. I’m not pedantic about it, and realise, for example, in some circumstances a piece of micro fiction might be called a short story. But I find these categories can provide a helpful way to organise my writing, and you’ll see this reflected in the layout of this blog.

Short Story – usually between 1,000 and 7,500 words

Flash Fiction – generally 1000 words or less

Micro Fiction – up to about 100 words

Kingfisher Black

All the colours of the rainbow and more,

And neither north, nor east, nor south, nor west –

Hushedly extolling her hymnal,

O secluded fount of the citadel.

Kingfisher black,

Across her skin there glides a swan;

The lightning is in her elbows,

Within her bowels, the joy of the horizon.

All her flowering lips reveal

The satin Merlot maze;

Enchantments, poetry covert,

Unfathomable constitution.

Forever Moment

It was a huge fashion and modelling convention and all the hotels were packed. I was only booked in at the hotel for one night, to be able to head off the next evening to another event the day after that. My agency booked me into a family room with Michael and Sean, two beautiful black guys. They were from the same agency but I’d never met them before. And I mean these guys were beautiful. That kind of gorgeous, stunning, charismatic beauty that just mesmerizes you. Michael had dark brown skin, was quite muscular, and seemed more confident and forthright of the two. Sean was mixed race and lighter in colour, a little taller and more slender in physique, and came across as quite quiet and shy.

Sean and I were chatting while we waited for Michael to finish in the bathroom. Sean was really a sweet guy, with a deliciously bitchy side to him which really turned me on. He was telling me that he and Michael went way back. And he told me to be careful because Michael had a thing for white guys. Which, from his playfully sweet inflective, I took to mean I could be in for some fun. I asked Sean if he had a thing for white guys too. He just smiled at me mischievously. Fuck it! I was supposed to be being good for my boyfriend while I was away on this trip. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen. No way could I resist the seductive power of these two guys if they came on to me. Not that I had never been with a black guy, or even with two guys at once, but these guys were just so fucking beautiful and alive and sensual!

When Michael came out of the shower, I thought I detected just the briefest flash of a knowing glance between him and Sean. I tried desperately to quell the swell of my nerves running rampant inside me. The brightness of the white towel about Michael’s waist only served to emphasise his exquisite silken dark brown flesh. I started to feel intoxicated by the thought of what might happen. I glanced across at Sean and witnessed affirmation and confirmation in his warm smile.

Michael came and stood provocatively close in front of me as I sat on the edge of one of the beds. I looked up and lost myself in his serious, sparkling dark eyes. He was a vision of utter loveliness. Fresh moisture from his shower glistened like dew over his dark sculpted torso. He let the towel about his waist drop and his plump flaccid cock hung inches from my face. Oh my God, he was so beautiful! My own cock stirred in response to his naked proximity. He stepped even closer so his cock was nearly touching my lips. It looked so soft and thick and juicy. I gulped in anticipation. “Be my guest, Rory,” he said.

I gratefully kissed the beautiful brown flesh of his cock. It twitched responsively. I kissed it a few times and he began to stiffen.

Sean came and stood beside Michael, kissed him on the lips and stroked his blossoming erection with slow, delicate movements of his hand, massaging Michael to full, hard glory right in front of me. I kissed the smooth firmness of the underside of Michael’s thick shaft. Sean wiped Michael’s impressive erection back and forth across my face, then brushed my lips with the bulbous helmet. Feeling incredibly guilty but excited, I was filled with overwhelming exultant pleasure as I let Sean slide Michael’s cock into my mouth and I began sucking on the head slowly and affectionately and adoringly.

“Damn!” Michael whispered hoarsely, looking down at me. “Damn!” And he began moving his hips back and forth, tenderly fucking my mouth with his thick, hard length.

Michael and Sean kissed each other deeply, tongues assailing each other with passionate enthusiasm, as I eagerly took the top half of Michael’s length into my mouth.

Michael loosened Sean’s trousers and took out Sean’s stiff erection and began massaging him.

Then as they kissed they both pressed against me and gyrated their hips to rub their firm cocks over my face, skin over skin, ebony over ivory, joyful homosexual infatuation, worshipping and being worshipped, free to revel in our delectable lascivious lust. I repeatedly kissed each gloriously firm, smooth, brown erection. And then licked them. And then took each in turn into my mouth, sucking and slobbering over their engorged glories between licking their balls and stroking their lengths in my fists. For precious, everlasting moments I laboured about their enthused loins with my fervent mouth and dextrous hands to pleasure both of these gloriously beautiful guys. It no longer felt like them and me. Now it was just ‘us’. All of us together relishing our interconnected mutual infatuation and heightened sexual exhilaration. Sean and Michael were kissing and caressing each other as I lost myself in sucking and licking, kissing and fondling, stroking and caressing. I was in seventh heaven pleasuring these two guys with their transparently rich personalities, evidently intensely sensual souls, gorgeous bodies, fine good looks and beautiful excited penises. One of my hands wandered down to stroke my own hard-on inside my shorts. Michael grabbed a fistful of my hair and held my head still for his cock as he fucked my mouth with slow, smooth thrusts.

Then a moment later, Michael became suddenly impatient. Frowning down intently at me, he took his cock from my mouth and pushed me backward on the bed so I was laying on my back with my legs hanging over the side. He directed me to flip over onto my stomach, which I did, and he shoved and bumped me up the bed. He tugged off my shorts and boxers and knelt forcefully between my legs, pulling my backside up to his groin. His dick rested between my buttocks. I could feel myself reflexively offering my arse up towards him. I knew what was coming next and I was so ready. My butt hole puckered greedily.

Michael told Sean to get the gel. And a moment later Michael was fingering my arse and eagerly pushing gel up in there. It was so fucking good feeling him doing that to me. My gut turned somersaults. I groaned and trembled. I wanted this guy’s cock so bad.

And then it came. Michael pushed it in and I dropped my head and grunted as I took it. Oh I opened up so good for him. He held my hips and fucked me slow and sensual and all I could do was keep moaning loudly for him as I took inch after inch.

Sean bounced naked onto the bed and sat kneeling on the pillows at the head of the bed in front of me. He slid his hard cock into my mouth and fucked my mouth with the same easy rhythm that Michael was fucking my arse.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some fun in my time, but never in my life had I experienced such intense euphoria, never felt so elated and satisfied with life’s benevolence as I was in that moment, with both my holes stuffed full of delicious black cock. These guys were stunning, and they were both focusing on me together at the same time, enjoying me, taking their pleasure from me, and giving indescribable pleasure to me.

As their excitement grew, I could feel both of them thrusting harder and harder until they climaxed almost simultaneously, Sean just a few seconds after Michael. I felt exquisitely and euphorically blessed and favoured, squatting on my hands and knees, taking their spurting hot bolts of semen both ends, gulping down Sean’s bitter sticky cum as it flooded my mouth and throat, Michael grunting loudly as he enthusiastically pumped a seemingly endless stream of cum up into the depths of my rectum. It was glorious. A glorious moment seared into my memory, woven into the fabric of my soul, forever.

Chant of a Thousand Suns

Eagles’ glances
Where rivers begin
Only serve to distil
My knowledge and my longing.

Holding you is like opening a burning star,
A simple dream without end,
Endlessly perpetuating
Truth and desire.

Clouds of zeal
Torment me,
But the chant of a thousand suns

My heart emboldens.

White Allyship Against Anti-Black Racism

This is a hopefully helpful, if very basic, article aimed primarily at White people who wish to be allies to Black people in the war against anti-Black racism.

While the principles listed here can also be applied to allyship with other afflicted social groups, such as the LGBT+ community or women for example, this article is specifically for, and addressed to, White people who understand the moral imperative of this allyship with Black people.

1. Listen To Black Voices

Get used to not being the one doing the talking, either literally or rhetorically, in person or online.

The very first step is to stop your mouth.

The second step is to engage yourself in deliberate, conscious, attentiveness to what Black people are saying. And that means everything they are saying, without your interruption, interpretation or correction.

And it means continuing to do so. We are not talking here of a one-off experience for you, or an intermittent on/off tap you deploy if you feel like it. Listening is an active practice, a personal discipline, and a way of life. It opens up to us the world around us. Listen to Black voices. Take in what they are saying, process it, reflect on it.

2. Educate Yourself

Make it a priority to learn about the experiences of Black people, the histories of Black people, and the intellectual, social and political arguments put forward by Black people. It has never been easier to find and access books, documentaries, movies, websites, organisations and institutions. Do it.

Be humble and open to having your opinions and assumptions challenged and changed. This will expand your horizons and elevate your soul.

Understand that whilst many Black people will graciously signpost educational resources, it is not beholden on Black people to educate White people. We should not expect Black people to have to explain themselves, and their experiences, and the complex realities of society, over and over and over to us. Take the initiative, take hold of the baton, give a damn and make the time to educate yourself.

I will endeavour soon to post some kind of resources list which may be of help. But you can get started right away, the internet awaits your earnest curiosity.

3. Respect The Autonomy And Authority Of Black Spaces

Don’t expect to be at the head of the table, or even at the table at all. In fact, don’t expect an invite, and don’t get resentful and victimy if you don’t get one. There is a long, deep and painful history of failure on the part of White people to help. Black people have learned they can only rely on themselves.

And don’t ever even think of imposing yourself on Black-only spaces. Black-only spaces are not racist. To the contrary, they’re anti-racist portals of resistance against racism, oppression and injustice. They are survival strategies for a targeted, brutalised, victimised people. Places of freedom and wellness and truth for people who are consistently denied these things elsewhere.

Be under no illusion, Black people do not need input from White people to understand what the problems are, what the solutions might be, or how to proceed. If you’re interested in helping, take your lead from Black people, they’ll tell you how you can help.

4. Support Black Advocacy

Support, promote, purchase from and invest in Black creatives, Black self-employed professionals, Black-owned businesses, Black advocacy and anti-racism organisations, and companies that pro-actively practice Diversity, Equity & Inclusion (DEI) initiatives.

6. Take A Stand In Your Workplace

Actively support DEI and anti-racism initiatives in your workplace. Don’t be afraid to be known amongst your White colleagues as an ally to Black people when relevant topics/circumstances arise. Take a consistent and visible stand against any anti-Black racism you witness or that a Black colleague has experienced. Be prepared to be unpopular with the status quo in a predominantly White system, but don’t expect a medal from your Black colleagues – you’re only a beginner.

7. Take A Stand Wherever You Are

Never allow racism to slide, anywhere, anytime. If you witness it happening, always shine a light on it, highlight it, point it out, challenge it, don't accept it. Express support and offer assistance to anyone who is a victim of racism. 

Good For Something

Yes, I can confirm that you can fall madly in love with someone you’ve never even spoken with. I’d seen Kelly around but never actually talked to her. I didn’t know any of her friends directly either. Some of my friends hung out with some of her friends every now and then, and I’d overheard her name mentioned in passing, but that was it. Though I could never take my eyes off her whenever I saw her.

She’s black, beautiful and hot as fuck. Me, I’m white, reasonably handsome I guess, and desperately in love with her. I was twenty two at the time, she was about the same age, possibly a little older. I finally mustered the courage to speak to her one night at a party. Some rich kid’s house while his parents were away. A big old country manor on the outskirts of town.

The party swelled and ebbed and flowed through the house and out across the gardens in the warm summer night. I’d broken off from the friends I went with and was just wandering around, a little tipsy, smiling to myself, dancing, enjoying watching people enjoying themselves.

When my beer was finished I went searching for my mate who had our beers. Couldn’t spot him in the back garden where I’d left him so I went inside. Everywhere was packed, and I couldn’t see him.

I went down a hallway towards what looked like a separate wing of the house when I saw Kelly walking along the finely decorated corridor towards me. We both came to a halt at the same time, either side of a snogging couple who were nearly blocking the width of the narrow corridor. She looked incredible in a black sparkly blouse and tight blue jeans and black heels. We both waited to see who would go around them first. I knew it was an opportunity. I decided to take it. I waved her to come through first and as she came by me, with my heart in my mouth, I took the leap and said hi.

“Hello,” she responded cautiously.

I felt I had to offer an explanation. “I think black girls are beautiful,” I said, like a total fucking moron. WTF?

“Well,” she said, frowning and sneering in disbelief, evidently perplexed and amused at the same time, “I don’t know what white boys is good for really.”

I shrugged dejectedly and stared at the ground and shuffled my feet. I’d blown it big time. I didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t believe I’d just said that. What a fuckwit. With my head hanging, I started passing the snogging couple.

But… sometimes… it seems the universe has its ways.

I felt Kelly’s hand rest gently on my shoulder. I stopped and looked back at her and our eyes met in some kind of raw, extravagant honesty. The snogging couple were still hard at it, so into each other they were seemingly totally oblivious to our proximity to them. Kelly stepped back past the snogging couple and past me and beckoned me with a finger to follow her back along the corridor where she’d just come from.

A boisterous group messing around at the far end of the corridor in the direction we were heading suddenly erupted in boisterous laughter. Kelly took me off through an unobtrusive door to one side into a darkened passageway, unlit except for a very faint glow somewhere farther along. When the door shut behind us, Kelly produced her phone and used it as a torch.

This was a very different kind of corridor, not grand at all, but a service corridor, narrower, with a low ceiling and plain, dilapidated décor. To Kelly’s right was an old light switch with some dodgy looking wiring poking out the side. She flicked the stiff old switch and a single naked bulb cast a weak light along the passageway.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Jed,” I told her.

“Come with me, Jed,” she said, seizing me by the arm as she strode purposefully down corridor. At the far end it opened out onto a gloomy cluster of untidy store rooms. There was some pale light from some external garden lighting entering through a couple of high single-pane windows with dappled glass, and some light from the bulb half way back along the corridor, but otherwise it was pretty shadowy except for the orb of light from Kelly’s phone-torch. All around were piles of cardboard boxes and sundry items like a large rolled rug, some kind of heating flue piping and other random stuff.

Kelly opened another door and peeped in and scanned it with her torch. Then she pulled me in after her into a small toilet and locked the door. It was a tiny, messy little cubby hole of a toilet with peeling paint, cobwebs, a thick, stained wooden toilet seat and an old iron cistern hung above head-height on iron braces with half a broken metal chain hanging down from it.

It was so tight in there we couldn’t help but stand pushed up against each other. The press of her body against mine filled me with a throbbing tingling all over and I began to tremble.

She fiddled with the sliding lock but it came off in her hand and she dropped it to the floor in disgust. She tried the light switch but it was didn’t work. She turned her phone’s torch off and we were lit only by a faint glow coming in through another of the high windows of dappled glass, this one just a little square that was even smaller than the other ones out in the store room. I could just about make her out in the faint aura of light, the shape of her head, her shoulders, the reflective sheen of one side of her scintillating face. Very close. Claustrophobic. I could feel her breathing, the aliveness of her body against mine.

“So,” she said softly in the darkness, “you like black girls, huh?”

“I like you,” I replied.

“Wanna kiss me?” she asked.

I leaned forward to kiss her and felt her tense. Then I felt the crashing thunder of her open hand slapping me across my face so hard I could have sworn I heard bells ringing.

“On your knees,” she told me curtly.

“What?” I asked, not quite sure I’d heard her right.

“I said get on your knees!”

I jostled downward awkwardly in the cramped space, receiving a hot electric shock of sensual connection as I slid down against Kelly’s torso to kneel down on both knees. I wondered if she was going to ask me to perform cunnilingus. I’d always wanted to try that. But she shuffled herself around to turn her back towards me, pointedly rubbing her backside all over my face as she did so.

“Kiss my arse,” she told me.

“What?” I asked incredulously.

She reached behind her and repeatedly slapped the side of my head with a sharp fury. “You say what one more fucking time and I’ll slap you so fucking silly you won’t know what day it is! Now, kiss my arse! And you better thank me for the privilege too!”

Trembling with nerves, and still rocked by those ferocious slaps, I held Kelly’s hips in awe, feeling strangely elated by her abuse. I planted a slow, lingering, emphatic kiss into one of the soft orbs of her peachy little backside in those tight jeans.

“Thank you, I said.

“Again,” she told me.

I kissed her backside again, the other buttock this time, slowly like before, making it last, and then I thanked her again. Sheer undiluted joy. I felt dizzy. A warm glow radiating within. Fizzy tingles stirring my cock.

Kelly hurriedly undid her jeans and yanked them down with her panties around her thighs. My face hovered in the gloom close beside the soft aromatic warmth of her bare arse cheeks. I brushed my lips nervously over her skin, worshipping, worshipping, worshipping.

She started hypnotically twisting those miraculous hips from side to side, indulgently rubbing her fleshly rump all around over my face, telling me over and over to kiss her arse. I kissed and kissed, pressing my lips fervently into those glorious globes of intimate soft flesh as they rubbed over my features.

Reaching behind her, Kelly gripped the back of my head and pulled my face deep between her buttocks and held me there. My nostrils filled with the most sublime of perfumes. I gasped for air but could only breathe in the scents of her sweat, her skin, her whiffy bottom. Intensely intimate. Poignantly pungent. Delightfully delectable. My cock stiffened to bursting with aching, raging lust for this woman.

But suddenly we both instantaneously froze at a noise from the other side of the door, a scrape of something across the floor or something. Someone was out there in the storage area. We stayed absolutely still. My heartbeat and my breathing felt loud as fuck, even with my face in Kelly’s bottom. The seconds stretched fearfully without end, but Kelly’s hand kept my head firmly planted in her backside. Then with breathless agitation she whispered into the stifling silence, “Kiss my shit hole.”

I pressed my lips firmly onto her bum hole. Joy exploded within me. I’d never felt so alive. I just had to touch myself and slipped a hand into my trousers and began stroking myself as I kissed her naughty hole again and again.

After a moment I became aware she was rubbing her pussy. I could feel the slight rocking motion of her hips, her busy fingers accidently fluttered briefly over my chin, and my nostrils were suddenly hit with the intensely strong, rich scent of her pussy juices.

I was absolutely terrified our smutty intimacy would be ruined by our discovery any second, and found myself jerking off with desperate urgency. But no further noises came from beyond the door. The anxious suspense merged seamlessly into our total absorption in what we were doing, bringing ourselves closer and closer to the edge. I just kept kissing and kissing her hole and her bum cheeks, gasping for air, not wanting anything but the heat of her flesh suffocating me and those mouth-watering aromas of her arse and her pussy and her skin and sweat filling my senses.

She moaned and gasped, squashing my head into her arse, rubbing her backside all over my face. It was incredibly empowering knowing I was giving her such pleasure. I wanted to do more. I couldn’t resist. I had to do it. It was destiny. I licked her naughty hole for her. And again and again. Hot and wet, lost in crazed passion, letting her know for sure that I was hers, that I wanted her more than anything.

“Oh you dirty little fucker!” she exclaimed.

She was shaking. I held her tight and licked that gorgeous black arse for Olympic gold! I’d never tasted anything so tasty and intimate and delicious. Never experienced anything so heart-poundingly enthralling. Never been treated to such exquisite, mysterious delights.

She let out a long, strange, whining moan. “That feels so fucking good!” she whimpered.

And she fingered herself into a quick, tight little climax, ramming my face harder into her arse and grinding forcefully on my face as she came. And a moment later, all my senses overwhelmed by her, and thrilled by the glory of her groaning, shuddering pleasure, I just exploded in my trousers.

There was a thick, heavy silence as we both recovered, my face still jammed up her arse, still gripping each other, still each touching ourselves, her free hand on my head, my free hand grasping her hip. I inhaled deeply, knowing it was my last few seconds to savour those glorious fragrances.

Then Kelly pulled herself together and pushed me away, or as much as she could in that tight little space. I scrambled to get to my feet as she did up her jeans.

She turned round to face me.

“Seems white boys is good for something after all,” she said.

“Fuck yeah,” was all I had, so thrilled to have been allowed to share this with her.

“It don’t mean we’re dating or nothing,” she warned. “But gimme your number. Might call you next time I want a disgusting, pervy little white boy’s tongue fussing up in my black arse for me.”

I felt so damn proud. It just felt so natural. My face, her arse. Made perfect sense. I wanted to tell her I loved her but thought that might be a little too forward. We left cautiously without encountering anyone, and we found our separate ways back to the party. I didn’t see her again for the rest of the evening. Not for weeks afterwards actually. But eventually the call came. I mean, I’m good for something at least.