©2001-2004
J.C. Stephens
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What a way to run an office. Any prospective client walking in the door would have sure been treated to an erotic sight. The blonde nymphet was tilted back among the crumpled papers on the spilled over desk, panties hanging around one trim little ankle, shapely white thighs high and gripping the torso of the man lodged between them, heels digging into his taunt, black buttocks.
Calvin’s pants and shorts were down around his ankles. There he was, pushing that huge erection of his in and out of the cutest little blonde you could ever imagine. That’s the sight the client opening that unlocked office door would be seeing. If he had been seconds earlier, his shocked eyes would have witnessed those lovely thighs opening and boyish hips tilting to accommodate what just couldn’t be possible, that big black ‘thing’ going into such a petite woman.
And the words coming from her sweet, yet sex distorted face, they weren’t at all consistent with the way the little minx was acting.
“Oh God, Calvin, we shouldn’t be doing this. My fiancé would never understand my lack of control, me having a black man like this.”
But, the little blonde sure wasn’t acting as if she wanted her lover to stop what he was doing, not the way she was holding him to her rather than pushing him away. Any struggling that was going on between them was more like trying to get what they were engaged in consummated rather than the other way around.
Of course Calvin kept on going. Penny uttered a bird-like little twitter of surrender when tightness gave way, wrapping her arms and legs even firmer around his straining body, pulling her lover even closer to and into her yielding femininity.
Suspending her lean hips even further over the edge of the desk top was allowing her dark lover to get even closer, penetrate her body even deeper.
At a moment when turning back would have been impossible anyway, she rationalized. Didn’t it make it all right, the fact she had know this one longer and they had shared intimacy well before she even knew Tom existed?
“Oh God help me.”
God, he felt so good too. No man, before or after ever felt as good as it did having the one she was having now.
By now the ‘no’s’, the guilt and denials had turned to something far different.
“Yes, yes, oh God yes!”
She’d rationalized it all out now. Looking up at Calvin, the black lover who was so excitingly attached to her this ‘one last time’, it was even naughtier now, what they were doing, she with her ‘cheating ways’. Penny wickedly passed on her assessment to her ‘partner in crime’.
“Think of this as a going away present,” she’d demurely said, her body jolting with each of his enthusiastic, deep thrusts. My engagement present to the ‘best man’ for fucking so good.”
***
Her hips were even more enthusiastic than his now. Pushing harder and harder against him, battering her pubic area against his; his submissive blonde was meeting her dark lover more than halfway with every thrust.
“Just this once, Darling…We can only do it just this one last time.”
Later, after they were done, lying exhausted in his arms, Penny told Calvin that’s the way it was with her too, no man making her feel as good as he did. She loved her fiancé, he was the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with, but he just didn’t make love with the intensity that Calvin did.
Calvin, needless to say, felt nothing but good about his latest score.
It was more than a little lie of his about other women not being the same since he’d made love to her. But he wasn’t about to give her up to some ‘whitey’, not without taking all he wanted of her, that is. Black men had a reputation for hanging on to their women, so he wasn’t about to give up on something prime like Penny.
At the time, he wasn’t sure what caused her to warm up to him again like that. Sure he’d pulled the ‘race card’. With tears in his eyes, he wasn’t sure weather it was supreme acting or for real.
“I hate being black. You white women will play around trying out men of color but it always ends the same: under all that ebony and romance, your playmate was just a Negro. I thought you’d be different, but it’s always the same.”
That was when she’d taken him into her arms.
“Oh no, Calvin, it wasn’t like that at all. I wouldn’t play with your affections like that. I loved you and what you bought me. You taught me how to find satisfaction making love to a man.”
Then things had taken that incredible turn for the better
The hug was meant to be comforting and reassuring, that was his former girl friend’s intention anyway. Smelling her peach blossom freshness, her warmth, the tremor in her arms, the scene was rapidly changing. The lovely Goddess named Penny; that’s when her rapidly beating heart gave her away, her body aware of his passion coming alive between them, his erection, and oh, so close.
It was then Calvin knew he had her. Some whitey might be able to win her hand in marriage, but her body belonged to Calvin.
Using her body while she was betrothed to some stuffy white guy made it all the better. She didn’t know it yet. She thought the only thing she was doing was consoling a friend. He knew it went much further than that. Consolation was going to take on a deeper meaning than her intention, much deeper.
Penny was remembering how unsure she’d been the first time…back when there wasn’t her new fiancé to cloud the picture. Calvin had been perfect right from the start. Impossibly large as he had been, once things got started, their sex turned unbelievably good. Relatively inexperienced, she couldn’t have known how her timid submission would eventually turn into such incredible passion. How wonderfully tight the two of them fit together. But they had fit; she was remembering…and wondering if it could be as good with someone else.
Miraculously, she had found Mr. Right, a kind and considerate young man, one of her own race. No stares when they were together, just two people engaged to be married who thought the world of each other, and no one else was even paying attention.
And now, with the promise to always be true fresh from her lips, she had betrayed her betrothed--making out with a former lover because their sex had been so good together and this would be just “once more for old time’s sake”.
Maybe it was Calvin’s spontaneous erection when he pressed against her that way during what they both evidently thought would be their last kiss. Most probably she didn’t want him to think she was just using her Negro. He knew she wasn’t prejudiced. Well, actually, if she was, it went the other way. He was better because he was black
Anyway, she wasn’t denying his advances anymore. In his arms again, all this lovely creatures resolve just seemed to dissolve away. Now, when he held her in her arms, she was pressing her petite body against his erection. Their mouths open, tongues searching and tasting, his strong dark hands held her slight body against him.
When his hand slipped under that short little skirt and found her panties, her hand closed over his in a futile attempt at resistance. Her legs clamped tightly together but his hand was already there. With her hand over his and legs clamped tight and also holding him in place, her refusals didn’t seem at all sincere.
“Oh please Calvin, I can’t do this. What would Tom think of me for what I’m letting you do?” Maybe his answer was the final argument that sealed the seduction.”
He was chasing away her arguments with kisses and words. She could feel his exciting largeness pressing its eagerness against her yearning body. His words made so much sense.
“Just once more, what difference would it make for us to make love to each other just one last time? Your man couldn’t stand the thought of you making love to a black man. You said he’d despise you if he knew what we already have done. Of course I won’t tell him and he probably never will find out, but what difference will one more time make?
Six times you’ve slept with your ‘nig-ah’, or one hundred sixty? Would whitey think any more of you, or less, because you let me have you just one last time?
She knew and he did too. Penny couldn’t make him stop now. Her white cotton panties were damp from her desire. Her hand was following his caressing movements rather than trying to deny his access. When his dark hand first slipped under the elastic, her white one wasn’t trying to stop him from doing what he was. Her hand was still covering his when one finger, then two, entered her femininity.
“Oh God, This is wrong. What am I doing?”
But, when he found her hot and wet, he knew his little blonde was the same as his now.
Then Calvin lifted Penny’s slight body effortlessly onto her desk, in the process spilling a bouquet of flowers sitting thereon, its message of love, the card lying soggy in the watery mess. Her fiancé had sent them, an acknowledgement of his love for her and how grateful he was that she had consented to be his new bride. It didn’t make any difference. Not now, not with the liberties she was allowing her dark lover.
“Just this once, it wouldn’t be any more right or wrong if we did it just this one more time.”
That’s what she said and that’s what she thought. She’d never tell Tom about Calvin because he’d hate her if she did. What difference would one more time make? Of course she didn’t realize that kind of logic could present itself over and over.
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***
And it did, once more before, and many times after the wedding. It made life easier for her that way, having a mysterious lover on the side. In the years that followed, those times her husband said she was too cold, how no man was made to be true to just one woman, that wedding vows were made to be broken, that’s when she’d rub the magic bottle and her dark genie would reappear. Calvin was always ready for his white lady, always thrilled her like no other man could.
“Just this one last time, that’s all, darling, just one more time”
That’s what she was saying when he removed her panties and lifted her easily to her desktop. It was his lovely blond, Penny, who unbuckled his pants and slipped his shorts over his muscular buttocks. With Penny in her short little skirt perched at the edge of her desk; him standing between her slim thighs with his pants and shorts down at his ankles, they did it, supposedly, “just one last time.” There, among the spilled flowers her dark lover bought the sleeping princess to life once more. It was she who justified it all.
“Oh Calvin, just this once, we can only do it this one last time.”
Even though he knew that anytime the opportunity presented itself he’d try to turn his lovely lady’s words into a lie, what was happening now was plenty all right with him. It was his little blonde doll who had a grasp on his dark love and was now guiding him inside.
“Just this once, just this one last time,”
she was still repeating that little lie over and over until their orgasmic climax swept over them both. And that time before the wedding, and the time her husband stayed away when they had that awful argument. All those times, and so wonderfully many more, saying, but never meaning--they’d be doing it and she’d repeat like a stuck record, over and over…
Oh Calvin, just this once, we can only do it this one last time.”
After her husband said she was cold, that one woman wasn’t enough, she’d sought solace in Calvin’s arms, but there wasn’t need for false promises anymore. Tom treated her that way before and she knew he’d do it again. She felt justified now. No more lies. Once more would never be enough, not with Calvin, it wouldn’t.
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