Barbecued Negrita

I worked my way through grad school with a home restoration business--mainly painting and minor repairs on older homes.

My buddy in real estate sold a home, which was just vacated by an elderly lady whose out-of-town son had to put her in a nursing home. The home sold almost immediately, with the contingency that it be painted inside and out.

It was a pretty big house, but I had a month to finish it. Cash payment and a vacant house--the best kind--and good money at that. The son of the old lady would drop by from time to time to check on the progress. He was a psychologist, and since I had formerly worked as a counselor and studied psych., we had a lot to talk about.

One day the wife of the new owner stopped by while I and the psychologist were there. She was an awesome black woman in her late 20s or early 30s. With a medium-volume fro and a great big smile, she was very personable and energetic. And she had a body to die for, easy to see in the scanty clothes she wore in the hot summer weather. She was very muscular, like a track and field athlete, and had the firmest, medium-size breasts that stuck straight out, with the longest, pointiest nipples I've ever seen.

We three chatted for about an hour, and, after she left, I even made a comment to the psychologist about her scrumptious boobs and nipples. He agreed she had the most bodacious bod, adding that she might hold some kind of world record in the nipple department. He also said she was clearly flirting with me. I really wasn't sure, she being so generally friendly and all, but at his urging, modern-day shaman that he was, I decided to make a play for her.

The next time she stopped by, I was there working alone that morning. We got to talking about barbecued ribs, and like me, she loved them. I suggested I go get some at the best place in town, which was nearby, bring them back to the house, and we share some together later that day for lunch.

She said, "Great idea! I'll look forward to nibbling on that meat," taking an ever-so-brief glance at my crotch.

Was she just teasing, or was she really going to follow through? I mean, this just seemed too easy.

I left to go get two slabs of pork ribs, all the fixin's, and some beer around 11:30 AM, was back by noon, and thought she would never arrive.

Finally she showed up around 2:00, wearing short-shorts barely covering her taught bubble butt and a tight-fitting white jersey halter. She might as well have been topless, with those awesome football-shaped tits and bullet-like nipples practically poking through the thin, stretchy cotton fabric.

Even so, I was a bit hesitant. After all, I barely knew her. At least I had the forethought to get a twelve-pack of beer, which by then was none too cold, but we slammed down a few in a hurry in the hot upstairs room where we sat on the drop cloth as I got the ribs and trimmings ready.

We were both voraciously hungry, and we each finished off nearly an entire slab. She had the most alluring way of putting the rib in her mouth and cleaning off all the meat. Finally, I slammed down another brew, screwed up my nerve, and said, "Do you know why I invited you over to have ribs with me in this big house all alone?"

With a little hesitation—a nerve-wracking moment for me—she pointed her big brown eyes at mine and said, "because you've never been with a black girl before, and you've got the hots for me?" Then, she said, "I've never made it with a white guy, but I've always wanted to."

I took that for a green light and relieved the tension with, "Well, you know what they say, once you've had a white man, you'll never go back." We laughed, albeit nervously, for the only sure way to break sexual tension is to have sex.

We didn't even bother to wipe our hands before we were all over each other. We were naked and French kissing in no time, and the hot sun beating through the window, combined with our vigor, had beads of sweat popping out all over.

She was very aggressive, and I didn't have to suggest anything at all, she hungrily sucking my raging cock down to my balls as I played with her huge, extra hard nipples tipping her super-firm tits. She had, BY FAR, the longest nipples I've ever seen, not to mention the joy of playing with. I collect and shoot handguns as a hobby, so I'm very familiar with ordnance of all kinds. Her nipples were almost exactly the size and shape of a .357 magnum cartridge, which measures .357 inch in diameter by about 1.5 inches in length, depending on the bullet configuration. That's right, folks, her nips were AN INCH & A HALF LONG!

She had a completely shaved pussy, too. I could tell from its extreme smoothness and the smell of fresh lotion that she had just shaved it. Her big, rubbery pussy lips tasted so good I was tempted to take a bite, and her dark skin and quivering flesh covered in tiny beads of sweat in the sun looked simply divine.

We sucked and licked and fucked for the rest of the afternoon. At one point I drizzled some barbecue sauce on her nipples and sucked it off as she literally screamed, "suck em harder, harder, HARDER! BITE 'EM!"

I obeyed, gladly. She liked her sex kind of rough, and her nips were no exception. I was afraid I was going to break the skin, but they held up just fine.

Later, there were a couple of uneaten ribs, and I dunked one in the sauce and slipped it in her pussy, at once nibbling her big clit and the meat off the bone. She liked that a lot, and I did it again with the last rib.

"Teethe my button. That's right. You won't hurt me. Teethe and suck it hard!"

We did it in every position in the book there on the old canvas drop cloth, and she climaxed over and over and over, loudly screaming each time, but never seeming to get enough. No sooner would I cum, than she was ready to go again.

Before I could finish another lukewarm beer to recharge after cumming, she was sucking me up to size again. I don't think any other girl has been able to get me hard again so quickly, and I am still amazed that I came 5 times that afternoon—a personal best.

She was a superb kisser, and gave me a long French good-bye kiss before she left around 5:00--to go pick up her husband from work, no less.

I finished up the house about a week later, and saw her twice more, both times accompanied by her husband, who, but for being black, bore a striking resemblance to me.

The last time I saw her, I was heading out the door with the last of my equipment as she held the screen door open for me. The last thing I heard her say was to her husband, "Honey, I think it's high time we 'initiate' our new place," as she winked at me descending the steps.

That was certainly an excellent lunch, and the best advice I ever got from a psychologist!