I was certain that I would die in the vice grip of the walls that closed in around me. Each day was the same as the day before: The bitter smell of cheap coffee wafting from the kitchen. The skipping record cadence of my husband singing "Punkin doodle all the day" as he baked bacon in our cheap oven.
The walls closed in. We were stuck. Unable to move and barely able to breathe. We hadn't had sex in a year. The lockdown didn't cause that. We'd be drifting apart for quite some time. I ached for the touch of a man. Craved it in a way I hadn't in a very long time.
I admit to boring bathtub masturbation and rolling over when my husband would come to bed. His rank breath infiltrating the little space I had left in the room.
Then the storm came. The day the wind sucked up all the trees and closed off the main road to our little boring plot in the midst of quarantine land was the best day of my life. And the most surprising day for my husband.
That's the day we spent a week with a stranger in quarantine. His name was Leon. He was servicing our sewer pump when the storm came. We all huddled in the basement. The sweet smell of his breath lit me up. I ached to know what those heavy, full lips would feel like pressed into mine.
The lights flickered and the sickening touch of my husband's pale, skinny hand broke me from my reverie. Leon was married too, but Leon wasn't going anywhere.
My husband offered him a cot and a home-cooked meal. Something I was happy to do in tight jean shorts and a black cami. I felt Leon's dark brown eyes burning into my thick white ass. I knew he wanted it. He could probably smell my lust too.
After dinner I grabbed a lantern and made my way out to the shed for some extra firewood. Leon offered help while my husband played some videogame on his computer.
The shed seemed more free than the confines of the walls in the house, even though the interior was much smaller. Our Christmas decorations stood in the corner to bear witness to the first encounter I had with Leon. My first interracial liason. My first big black cock.
Leon's full lips seemed to swallow my much thinner ones whole. We didn't say a word. We just started making out. His tongue plunged in deep as he pulled my body into his. He felt solid. Like hardened clay fresh from the kiln and air cooled. I pressed my mound up onto his rigid abdomen where the tip of his cock poked out of his pants.
His passionate kisses from that huge hungry tongue made my vagina come to life. Her inner walls swelled as I felt the trickle of arousal pool around the opening of my fuck hole. Leon moan directly into my mouth. I swallowed it whole and kept pushing my hips up and down on the exposed knot of his cock.
"You need fucked don't you," he teased, "I could see that shit on you when I walked in the door." He held his hand up and extended his right index finger. It was bigger than some white cocks I have fucked. Seeing it made me swoon. The room spun in greens and reds.
Leon's muscular arms lifted me to a ledge where he perched my tight ass. His eyes burned into me as he wrested the shorts off of me. My feet hooked at the arches over his shoulders as his rubbed his thick, black digit up and down my pink slit. My wetness made squelching sounds. It was if my pussy was asking for that cock right now.
I tossed my head back and opened my legs. My pussy greedily pumped up and down Leon's entire hand. I could smell the moist plywood and even imagined that the Christmas decorations were watching us. It was as if I was saying, "Look at me! I can fuck! I love to fuck. I am fucking a black man because I need to fuck!"
There was no emotion in our act. Just raw need mixed with a whole lot of loneliness that had built over the weeks of the lockdown. I enjoyed the fingering, but soon Leon dropped to drink my whiteness with his mouth. His thick negro lips sucking in entire sections of my labia. His dark tongue slicing into my welcoming slit.
