I had sex with my ex-Stepmom, Carol, on Christmas Eve and again on Christmas morning. Then, after Christmas dinner, I had sex with not only my ex-Stepmom but also with her bi-sexual lesbian lover, Debbie. Okay? I freely admit it and I'm glad I did it.
Oh, and I nearly forgot, I received a gum job from Carol's deceased mother, Estelle. Don't ask. It's a long story. Now that it's all out in the open, now that the sexual relationship that I had with my ex-Stepmom is over, it's my ex-Stepmom's daughter who I want. I know, I'm depraved aren't I? Let's hope my ex-Stepmom doesn't have any other female relatives, cousins or sisters or aunts.
I'm not related to my ex-Stepmom's daughter. We both have different mothers and fathers, but it is exciting to imagine that she's my sister or stepsister, even though she's just a stranger to me, really, especially having just met her only a few hours ago. It makes my cock harder thinking that I'm about to have incestuous sex with a relative, by having sex with my ex-Stepmom's daughter, in the way that I had sex with my ex-Stepmom.
Honey, that's her name, surprised her mother at the door on Christmas Day and as soon as I saw her, I was in love. Who wouldn't be? She's stunning.
"Johnny," said Carol to me. "I'd like you to meet my daughter, Honey."
The perfect name for her by her skin tone. Honey is a black beauty, a Nubian princess, but is oh so difficult to read. After you've finished reading this story, you'll see that she's full of surprises, too. I think she likes me as much as I like her. Actually, I fear that I like her, love her, more than she likes me. I know she doesn't love me, yet, but she will.
Against my ex-Stepmom's wishes, Honey invited me to sleep with her in her room, the guest bedroom. Only, she said that I had to sleep in my clothes and on the floor, while she slept in the bed. Hey, I'd sleep in my hat, coat, gloves, and boots, so long as I was sleeping in the same room and breathing the same air as Honey.
Then, once we were situated in the guest bedroom, with me getting comfy on the floor, I couldn't believe it when she started undressing in front of me. Looking up at her with my pulse rate racing, my heart beating faster, and my cock hardening to the stiffest it's been, I couldn't take my eyes of her, while watching her slow striptease. It was the most erotic thing I've ever seen.
I watched as she unbuttoned and removed her wool sweater. I could tell from how her big bra puffed out her blouse that she had big tits. Never thinking that she'd continue removing any other article of clothing, except for, perhaps, her shoes, figuring she'd finish undressing for bed in the bathroom, fortunately, I was so wrong. I couldn't believe my eyes when she reached around herself, unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt and allowed it to fall to the floor, before kicking off her shoes.
Now, standing before me in her blouse, with her blouse tails barely concealing her white panties, I was really getting aroused, an understatement wondering how far she'd go with this little strip show. Then, I watched her unbutton and remove her blouse exposing her white 36C bra to me. Now, dressed only in her bra and bikini panty, with a slender waistline, shapely thighs, and a round black, bubble ass, she had the body of an Olympic athlete, a runner or a swimmer.
With light brown skin that looked so creamy soft, I couldn't wait to touch her, to hold her, and to kiss her. There's something so erotic about seeing a woman in her panty and bra. I'd rather see a woman parading around in her underwear than naked, that is, of course, unless she was naked and in bed with me.
Pinch me I'm dreaming. It was beyond my wildest imaginings to see her reach around behind her back and unhook her bra. Watching her, as if watching her in slow motion, suddenly, everything seemed so surreal instead of so real. I was swooning with her every movement.
As if I wasn't even in the room with her, she stared straight ahead, while her bra straps fell from her shoulders, first one and then the other. Then, in one fluid motion, she peeled her bra from her breasts.
I was stunned. I was excited. I was so very happy. I couldn't believe my eyes. There before me was Honey unabashedly topless.
Natural and not having those silicone, plastic, phony boobs, she had the most shapely and prettiest tits I've ever seen. Looking so much like Naomi Campbell, only prettier, but not as tall and not as skinny, more shapelier, she stood before me topless in just her white bikini panty. My black Goddess was a vision to behold. I was in the perfect position on the floor to bow before my black beauty.
Looking more closely, actually, leering without blinking my eyes for fear that I'd miss something, I saw a few of her curly, black pubes peeking out from her panty, along with the perfect outline of her camel toe. I couldn't wait to bury my face in her black pussy and lick her to an orgasmic conclusion. Never having been with a black woman before, now I understood the statement, once you go black, you never go back...to a white woman, that is.
"Stand up and kiss me," she said.
Obediently, I stood. She wanted to see what kind of kisser I was. I was more than happy to oblige her every wish, to accommodate even her most meaningless whim, and indulge whatever her desire.
Finally, with the third kiss, I passed her kissing test. Only, along the way, she melted my heart with her kisses. She was the best kisser I have ever experienced. Swooning and weak kneed, I was hers for the taking. With her lips so full and so soft and her tongue so teasingly delightful, she made me say something that I shouldn't have said, but don't regret saying it.
"I love you, Honey."
I couldn't believe I said it. I just blurted it. I spoke how I truly felt, at the time, after she kissed me so deeply and so lovingly. No one has ever kissed me like that before. Yet, I had just met this woman on Christmas Day, not more than a mere few hours ago. How could I possibly be in love with her? Yet, I was.
Call it fate, call it kismet, call it love at first sight but I was in love with Honey. She was my dream woman come true. Never have I ever thought I'd be attracted to a woman of another race, indeed, I was.
"You love me?" She looked at me like only a black woman can look, while looking at a dumb ass fool of a white man. She looked at me, as if I was crazy, and I was. I was crazy about her.
"I do. I love you, Honey," I said again to not only reinforce how I felt about her to her but also to make me realize that I truly did love her, and I did.
I love Honey. I wanted to scream her name from the rooftops. Such a perfect name for such a perfect woman. If honey is sweet, my Honey is sweeter. Honey, Honey, Honey, I loved the sound of her name.
"How can you love me? You just met me," she said taking a step away from me. "You don't even know me. The idea that you love me is dumb. You're just a dumb ass fool," she said putting a hand to her hip and tilting her head at an angle, as if to get a better look at me. "You act like you've never seen a beautiful, topless, black woman before."
"Actually, you're right. You are the first beautiful, topless, black woman I've ever seen. Only, the way you look has nothing to do with how I feel about you," I said. Even I couldn't say that with a straight face and she shot me a look of disbelief. "Okay, the way you look has everything to do with how I feel about you. Look at you. You're gorgeous, but--"
"Shut up! Just shut your white ass up," she said putting her hand up in my face, as if it was a mini stop sign. "You aren't making any sense and are ruining my mood."
Not wanting to ruin her mood, whichever mood she meant, good mood or hopefully, a sexual mood, I thought about apologizing, but for what? For telling her that I love her? You can't apologizing to someone for loving them and I did love her. I really did. Love at first sight, never have I felt the way that I do about anyone, as I do about her now.