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April 26, 2015

My first black lover

John, my first black lover

I was about 28 before I even thought about letting a black guy between my legs. It had just never come up. There were very few black men in my town in the late 70s. If you saw a young black man the chances were that he was a sailor from the navy base.

Caroline, my friend and confidante, and I decided we would have a change so instead of clubbing it in town we hopped on a bus for a pub three or four stops away. Close enough to walk but not in the shoes we were wearing!

We were sat quietly in the corner sipping our lager and black, and chatting about a guy we realised we had both been with when a gentleman with a melodic baritone asked if he and his friend could join us. He had that sort of voice that makes a woman unconsciously let her legs part slightly. They bought us some drinks and very soon we were all flirting with each other.

John was from Nigeria, he was married and he was an officer in his country’s navy on some sort of exchange/training course. He had been educated at an English boarding school and spoke with refined accent which contrasted sharply with my West Country twang. Very soon I was leaning back relaxing into him. His velvet tones whispering in my ear telling me what he wanted to with me was making me very wet and very, very horny.

John took me out to the secluded courtyard at the back of the pub not long after his friend and Caroline had come back in. John’s friend looked like the cat who had got the cream.

John and his friend made sure that Caroline and I were safely in our taxi at the end of the evening. John had asked if he could see me again and I had invited him to my house. Hubby was going up north to an away game and wouldn’t be back till nearly midnight.

As was hubby’s usual practice when I got home from a night out, he met me at the door and kissed me passionately. I nodded to the question in his eyes. Hubby’s hand lifted my skirt so he could look at my sodden knickers then pulled me by the hand to our bed. Hubby loves his sloppy seconds and as soon as we stripped I straddled him. We often made love that way mainly because he didn’t cum as quickly as when he was on top.

What follows is what I told hubby had transpired, at least as best as I can remember. It was just over thirty years ago but the memory of that first time with John is seared into my memory. I used more earthy language than I have here.

“Well darling, we didn’t go clubbing, we went to the pub by the dockyard gates. Two guys bought us some drinks and we had a good night with them. My guy was called John. He had a lovely voice darling, that alone would have got his hand in my knickers. When John took me back behind the pub he held me tight and kissed me very passionately and pushed up my boob tube to reveal my breasts. His hands were all over them. Then he told me to drop my knickers so I stepped out of them and put them in my handbag. John pushed me back against the wooden post and held my hands over my head while he put first one, then two and finally three fingers in my pussy. Still holding my hands over my head John slipped his cock into me. It was thicker than yours darling.”

“He just used me darling. He was lifting me on to my toes with each slow thrust. Darling he called me all kinds of names while he was poking me with his hard cock. It sounded strange because he talked so posh.”

I asked my hubby if he was nearly cumming and he nodded so I gripped his cock tighter and carried on telling him how John used me.

“John started thrusting harder and harder in your bride’s pussy honey. John was using your wife as a hole to shoot into. Your turn to cum in me darling, cum now for me, add your cum to John’s cum. John made me cum a lot baby and he is coming here tomorrow tonight to have me again my darling…”

I saved the next bit until I felt my hubby releasing his load, “John is Nigerian, he is very dark skinned.”

by: Diane - UK

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