Black Girl

Checking out attractive women was the last thing I expected to find myself doing at work that day. After months of struggling with both physical and emotional love, I was finally in the relationship I'd pined for. I was together with the perfect woman, the girl of my dreams, and things couldn't have been better. I wasn't looking to shop around for girls anymore. I was only 18, but already I felt like the big search of my life was over. A coworker of mine had even mentioned something to me after a couple cute girls walked by us and I didn't even acknowledge them.

But there was something about this girl Gracie that caught my eye. I work as a mover, helping people load or unload all their stuff. Jim, a guy I went to high school with, was my new coworker who went with me on the bigger jobs. We were at this woman Gracie's house to unpack her huge U-Haul. She'd just moved from elsewhere in the state, and as is sometimes the case, she was very talkative with us since she didn't know anyone and wanted to know more about the town.

Gracie had a body that would've caught most guys' attention. She was average height, but had a nice big ass and a huge chest. She was neither a big nor a little girl, but she was built surprisingly solid--the kind of girl who could win Prom Queen but who also might have tried out for the boys football team and made it--and she carried herself with undeniable confidence. It wasn't a surprise that a body like that caught my attention. What did surprise me about my interest, though, was that Gracie was black.

I don't have anything against black girls, but I'm a white guy from a white family from a white neighborhood. I've only dated white girls, and since my school was predominantly white, I'd never had any close black friends. As far as black girls were concerned, I'd never had an interest, sexually. But when I first saw Gracie when she opened the door to greet Jim and I, even before I saw the great curves of her body, I felt a strong, instant attraction.

As the afternoon wore on, this attraction was something I just couldn't shake. Every chance I got to sneak a peak at Gracie, whether it was the sight of her tight jeans hugging her ass or just her dark eyes with the long, black lashes, I had to take it. I actually stumbled a few times as I tried to check out her cleavage and imagined what her nipples would look like. In just a couple hours, I felt more than single again. I felt like I was on the hunt.

"So where's your boyfriend?" I asked kiddingly. Gracie was also a very personable woman, so she was okay with personal questions like that.

"Oh, I've had enough of men," she said half-seriously. "You men need to get together and regroup. Try and figure out what you're doing and what your priorities are."

"That mean you're batting for the other team now?" I joked.

Gracie laughed. "Ok, I'm not that sick of men. I just need to lay low and take it easy for a while." She smiled big. "I hope that didn't just crush all your hopes and dreams."

"Ah, Gracie," I smiled back. "You couldn't handle me." I couldn't believe what I was saying. I was never this forward, especially at work and with a client.

"I don't doubt it!" Gracie shot back. "You men are all too crazy for me to handle any of you! You lie and you're messy and all you ever pay attention to is the damn TV and ESPN."

"I wasn't talking about that," I laughed.

Gracie stopped, put her hands on her hips, and smiled at me. "Oh then what were you talking about?"

I had ideas of what to say, but none were playful enough for the conversation, and none were subtle enough to keep me from getting sued or fired. "I gotta get back out to the truck," I smiled, then escaped outside for more boxes.

A few more box loads later, I was carrying the headboard of Gracie's bed while she went through a box of clothes in the bedroom. She was leaned over, and I could see the top of her red panties peeking out from under her pants. Distracted, I tripped on the carpet and half fell as I set the headboard on the floor. Gracie reached out to help me just in case I needed it, which I didn't, but I appreciated the feel of her fingers against the goose bumped flesh on my arm.

"Man says I couldn't handle him. He can't even handle my headboard," she joked to herself out loud.

Me being 18 and her being at least 26 or so made me feel good about her referring to me as "man", even though she was kind of making fun of me.

"Is that a challenge?" I asked with a smile.

This time my response did get a surprise reaction from Gracie, though her grin told me she was cool about it.

"Oh, you! Boy," she laughed to me, "Those are adult-only games you're talking about."

"So you're not going to give me a chance? You afraid I'll win?"

"No!" she laughed. "Cause I can't lose. If you win, I win. I'm just afraid you'll be wasting my time. That's what I'm afraid of."

"Oh, that hurts, Gracie," I said, faking offense. "What have I ever done to deserve that?"

"Exactly! What have you done? You look too scrawny to have even been with a girl."

Ok, I thought. So I was losing the "man" image. But this was still fun and not at all off-putting. The fact that the conversation was getting more and more risqué kept my spirits up. Besides that, I knew she was merely reaching for insults by calling my scrawny. I wasn't a big guy, but years of manual labor had kept me in pretty decent shape, and everyone I met said I looked older than I was. But Gracie must have worried that I'd really taken some offense, so she was quick to switch gears.

"You have a girl?"

"Yeah," I said. But for that brief instant, I couldn't even remember what Alana looked like.

"How many?"

"Right now?" I laughed.

"Oh, you talk pretty big. No, not right now. How many girls have you been with?"

It didn't seem right to just answer the question with a hard number. That wouldn't have been fun enough.

"How many guys have taken on that head board?" I responded.

We both laughed.

"She white?"

"My girl?"

"Yeah. Your girl."

"Yeah."

"What about the last girl? Was she white?"

I pretended to think back. "Yeah."

"You ever been with a sister?"

"No."

"So you're telling me you've only been with white girls and you think you can talk to me like I'm the one who can't handle it? Let me tell you something Gavin. You're still a virgin as far as I'm concerned. No, you ain't even a virgin. You're still learning about how to be a virgin. And my head board? You take that on and it'll kill you. Blow your mind."

"I wasn't talking about my mind being blown."

Even I had to admit that had taken things too far. Gracie's eyes went wide with shock, and then she looked embarrassed, she was speechless, and though she still smiled and it seemed genuine, she looked down and only softly whispered her next words.

"Ok then."

And then she went back to sorting through her clothes.

"Hey," I started to say, not sure what I was going to say next. But she stopped me.

"You, boy, don't know what you're dealing with. You just better get that cute little ass of yours back to the truck and get the rest of my bed. You're gonna put it together, right?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Well that's a start."

There were a lot of mixed signals in that last exchange, and I pondered over it as I did as she told me. Maybe I had gone too far with the 'blow' line, but she still commented on my ass. And then this business with the bed, what was that about? Whatever it all meant, she was still being fun and friendly, and I didn't feel like I'd talked myself into a corner even if that was exactly what I'd done.

I caught up with Jim, who was still loading the bulk of the boxes and things into the living room. I told him that Gracie wanted the bed next, so we did some rearranging in the truck to get it, grabbed the rest of the pieces, then took the mattress in together.

Gracie stood back as we brought the mattress in and leaned it against the wall.

"Okay," I said after Jim left. "Where do you want the bed?"

"No more funny guy, huh?" she asked. "Now it's all business. 'Where's the bed go?' Looks like somebody realized they were in over their head."

"I'd sure like to be," I replied, "But somebody in this room is all talk. Saying I can't handle things because they're afraid I just might."

"Oh please, boy."

"I'm not a boy."

"Oh, you're all boys."

"Maybe from your experience. Maybe that's why you think so highly of yourself. You say I'm nothing because I've only been with white girls, but I say you don't know what you're talking about because you've never been with a real man."

Gracie's smile was huge, but I could tell she was trying to hide her excitement. "Is that what you think you are?"

"I'll do more than think it."

"So you'll say it, then?"

"I'll show you."

"I don't think so."

"You don't think so because you don't think I'm right, or because you're too scared I might prove it?"

Gracie blushed. "You got a real mouth on you."

"And how would you like to get this 'real mouth' on you?"

A long silence followed. We stared at each other.

Finally Gracie said to me, "Shut that door."

Suddenly I was very nervous. The fun conversation had come so naturally, possibly because it was so unexpected. But the tone of Gracie's voice when she told me to shut the door told me something big was about to happen. Her smile was still there, but much of it had given way to a more serious expression. Was it anger, or something else?

Gracie put her hands on her hips and looked at me expectantly. I approached her. When we were close, she reached for me.

"Give me your hand," she said while taking me roughly by the wrist. She forced my hand up and against one of her huge breasts. It felt lighter than it looked, but it also filled my hand more than I expected it to. When I squeezed my fingers, I was not gripping the entire end of her tit like I thought I would. Just part of it. She lifted my hand, in turn lifting her breast. Through both her bra and her shirt, I could feel her nipple harden.

"You feel that?" she asked. "That's a real woman. You really think you can handle a real woman, Gavin?"

I thought of my girl, Alana. I hadn't planned on ever cheating on her. But we had agreed that we wouldn't remain exclusive. I never worried about it, though, because I never thought I'd be tempted to go elsewhere. Yet here I was, with a woman I could not say no to, didn't want to say no to, and she just happened to come from a fantasy I'd never known I had.

A black girl. Imagine that.

Never had I desired a black girl before. On the other hand, I'd never been against it either. The possibility had just never come up. And now that it had, I didn't just want it. I fucking needed it.

There was a stirring in my pants. A stirring that, had Gracie been white, might have already been a full-fledged hard-on. But this situation was so new and unexpected. It wasn't that I was less turned on. I was simply overcome by more then mere lust, and so the erection took longer to become full.

"Cat got your tongue?" she asked.

I thought for a moment of what to say, wanting playful but achieving corny. "Does your cat want my tongue?" Cheesy to be sure, but it sounded much hotter in the heat of the moment. And Gracie didn't seem to care about how I said it, but was more interested in what, exactly, I was really saying.

"My cat? You mean 'pussy'?" She pulled my hand from her chest and drew it down her tummy, then tucked it deep between her thighs. She had me cupping her crotch before I could even hope for it, feeling her already intense heat there. "You mean this?"

I pressed my hand hard against her cunt. Our eyes were locked.

"You really think you can handle that?"

I reached around and put my other hand on her ass, squeezing her tight and pulling her to me. "How about we find out?"

She didn't lean in to kiss me, so I tried an alternate route. Taking my hand from her ass, I reached for her shirt and began to undo the buttons. A lot of her cleavage had already been showing, so with even just a couple buttons more, I had revealed her bra and a generous portion of her magnificent bust. She looked down, watching me undress her.

"I don't..." she began, but trailed off as we both watched her breasts, overflowing a red bra that matched her panties, spill into view. In a whisper, she continued. "I don't fuck..." she said, then looking up to meet my eyes, finished, "...white boys." But her eyes told me I had nothing to worry about.

"You will," I said. And then I bent down and began kissing wetly at her neck. With her shirt hanging fully open, I slid my hands over her tummy, around her sides, and to her back, where my fingers met at the clasp holding her bra together. Her skin tasted so delicious that I didn't even realized I'd unhooked the bra on the very first attempt, and so I kept fumbling.

"What about your friend?" she asked breathlessly.

"I don't think so," I said between licks and kisses at the nape of her neck and on her collarbone. "I want you all to myself."

Gracie laughed nervously. But then she shook her shoulders, helping her bra fall off her breasts. I kissed my way down to her cleavage, then licked her there, over and over. She arched her back, thrusting her chest out to me. With my face planted firmly between them, I grabbed each great boob with my hands and held them against the sides of my head, wrapping myself in tit. I licked and slobbered the skin between them, felt my saliva dripping down her dark, black skin.

I felt her hands on the top of my head, her fingers pushing through my hair, massaging me. Her nipples felt huge and rock hard against my palms. I pinched and flicked them, then grabbed passionate hand-fulls of her chest, squeezing, rubbing them against my face. I licked them at first, but when I pulled back far enough to actually get my first good look at Gracie's beautiful naked brown chest with the midnight-colored nipples, I couldn't hold back any longer. I dove in and sucked them, wrapping my lips around the nipples and areola, opening my mouth wide and taking as much in as I could, gnawing on them, chewing them, drooling all over them and rubbing them against my whole face.

I felt her hard nipples poke at and spring off of my nose, forehead, and eyelids. I caught the nipples with my teeth and flicked the tips with my tongue, then went back to sucking her tits vigorously. Gracie gripped me by my ears, half leading me and half following, as I made love to her full, dark chest.

Though our knees were quivering, we both fought to keep standing. And though we both wanted nothing more then to rip each other's clothes off and go for it all, Gracie and I shared a mutual concern: Jim, my coworker, really could make a mess of things if he walked in. There was no reason for him not to just open the bedroom door, which wasn't equipped with a lock, at any moment since he knew I was in her already. If he did that Gracie would surely be embarrassed. But I knew Jim, and I knew that was the last thing to worry about. Jim was a horny, crude guy. Him finding out about this would become a very uncomfortable situation.

Somehow, despite our lust, we had to maintain some measure of control. Just in case.

Gracie having her shirt open was dangerous enough, but it was a quick fix if Jim did come in. I could stand in front of her, or she could turn around. Not wearing pants wouldn't be something we could hide, though.

That was why I kept Gracie's pants on and even fastened as I slipped my hand under her waist, into her panties, and felt the intense heat and wetness of her bush.

"What are you going to do down there?"

Her voice cut short as I curled and slipped my middle finger right up inside of her. She put one arm around me, then lifted a leg and did the same. We were as close as two standing, full clothed, non-fucking people could be. I could feel her hot breath beating against my neck. I could see the glistening wetness of her full, pink lips. Gracie looked from my eyes, to my mouth, and back to my eyes. We kissed. It was very hard and wet and passionate, our lips locking, our tongues coiling and flexing, our faces turning restlessly.

With her free hand, Gracie reached down into my pants and grabbed my hard, hot cock. Because of the constriction of my jeans, my cock, though hard, had been guided down my leg, and there wasn't enough give in my pants for her to pull it up where we both wanted it to be. She jerked me anyway, holding me tight but pumping me slow.

"Is that all you've got?" Gracie gasped, but her voice gave her true passion away. She was at least as turned on as I was.

Rather then reply with a witty comeback, I pushed my finger deeper inside her. She gasped, rose to her tip toes, then sunk against me, burying her face in my neck and licking it all over.

"Take off your pants," she breathed desperately. Though her grip on me was still awkward, her hand jerked faster on my erection. "Oh, fuck," she said, for the first time sounding genuinely disappointed. "No. We can't. God, why did I have to order two of you guys?"

We kissed again. Her mouth tasted at least as good as her skin did. I hoped to find that her pussy tasted even better.

"What about the bathroom?"

She shook her head. "If he looks for us, he'll know."

I thought of saying "who cares", but even if that convinced her, it wouldn't convince me. Jim would tease us through a closed door, or he'd insist on watching, or persistently suggest he join. No, Jim would ruin this if he even suspecting something was up.

Gracie unbuttoned her own pants and unzipped them, giving me a greater range of motion as I slipped a second finger deep into her throbbing pussy, but also making our disposition that much harder to cover up if we needed to.

"Can't you send him to lunch?" she asked.

"We ate before we got here," I said before dipping down and licking at the tops of her brown tits. "He's new. He'll suspect something if I send him away alone."

"Then can't you just kill him?"

I should have laughed. I'm sure she expected me to. But my body responded in a way that surprised even me. I kissed her hard on the mouth, pulled my hand from her pussy, and hugged her tight as I pushed her back, toward the mattress that was leaning against the wall. As soon as she hit it, I tugged her loosely hanging bra down as I helped her off with her shirt. The garments tangled as we worked together to tear them off.

Once she was topless, the frenzied kissing continued, but the point of no return hadn't come yet. Gracie was still timid about being caught, and I knew she was right to be.

"I can't do this," she said with frustration and fear between licks and kisses of lust. "I need a shirt." She pointed to the box of clothes she'd been going through earlier. "Grab me something. Anything."

I pulled away as directed, which took my hand from her pussy. Gracie gasped as my fingers left her. I grabbed whatever garment was on top in the box and held it up to present to her. It was a simple white t-shirt with a pocket and some restaurant logo on the back. I helped her slip it on. I knew she wanted to be naked just as much as I did, but we had to be able to get composed quickly if Jim came around. At least she was without the bra...

The t-shirt went on, but was never pulled down over her tits. Instead, Gracie put her arms through the sleeves and her head through the neck hole, but kept the rest of the shirt bunched up and resting on top of her huge rack. If Jim did come by, all she would have to do is pull it down. Although, from the look of how the very top portion fit her, I imagined the shirt was from her younger years, and that it would look beyond skin-tight if she actually tried wearing it. And if nothing else, Jim would definitely not6ice that.