This is part 2 of "An Unlikely Hero." I know many of you out there don't particularly like some of the choices I make when I write these stories and some of you immediately dismiss them because the scenarios are unlikely. These stories are straight from my imagination and have no claim on reality, though I sometimes get inspiration from my personal experiences, shows and movies I've watched or books I've read.
I do like to dwell on the possibilities, and as unlikely and farfetched as they may be, they still fall in the realm of possibility. Mark Twain once said "Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn't."
Anyways, this story takes some strange turns. Hope you like it.
All characters who engage in sexual relationships or activities are 18 years old or older.
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An Unlikely Outcome
Part 1
Sara dreamed she lay on her back on a soft sweet-smelling bed.
Cool air from a vent on the ceiling above caressed her flushed and heated skin.
Her body writhed as a warm wet tongue laved her pouty outer nether lips from her perineum to the juncture where were a thin fold of skin covered her clitoris. The wide tongue swirled in maddening circles, thick lips kissing, and teeth nipping her sensitive skin then a pair of hard fingers spread her outer labia and the tongue dug in to lick her inner lips, then the fingers disappeared.
She heard herself moan, her body felt like it was on fire.
A pair of hard cool hands caressed her moist inner thighs. She wasn't very athletic but she was flexible so when those strong hands pushed her slim legs apart, they instantly spread wide, allowing that wondrous tongue better access.
Her small delicate hands clenched into fists, gripping the tangled bed sheets and twisting and pulling them as she squirmed and trembled.
The figure lying between her legs was cloaked in shadow. Her half-lidded eyes tried to pierce the darkness but she couldn't tell who he was.
Was he the neighbor boy who'd taken her virginity a few years before? She couldn't tell.
In her dream, she stared down at the shifting, plunging head of the man licking so expertly between her wide-spread legs. She tried to remember the second boy she'd ever slept with. Had his hair been gray?
She writhed helplessly at the fire raging through her loins, at her churning insides. She raised her arms above her head, gripped and tugged at the large soft pillow just as tightly as she'd gripped the bed sheets just before.
Her soft gasps and moans of pleasure filled the room like faint music along with the wet sloppy sounds of the tongue assaulting her sloppy pussy with such tireless skill and obvious knowledge.
Writhing in pleasure, she lowered her hands to the head between her trembling legs and gripped a black person's woolly, tightly-curled hair. She gasped at the discovery and images of the ancient black man who'd loved her so skillfully after he rescued her from a bunch of thugs flashed through her brain.
The images flashed through her mind like lighting, revealing scene after vivid scene before darkness just as suddenly descended again.
She remembered the hump on the old man's back, just over his left shoulder, and the unbelievable shape, length and girth of his monster black cock. She remembered its hard firmness in her mouth, its salty taste, and its demanding and aggressive... maleness.
She writhed and moaned louder at the sudden memory and at the depravity of having sex with such a repulsive and ancient old man.
She vividly recalled how his massive cock had filled her so completely, how she'd clawed at the hump on his back as he'd made her cum over and over, how the old black woman's words proclaimed that if he came inside her he'd put a black baby in her white belly. She remembered those words, remembered wanting him impregnate her, wanting the disgusting old man's baby to grow in her belly.
She wanted it again even now and came explosively at the sudden image of herself with a huge pregnant belly.
Her wet loins churned against the pleasure-giving tongue and her hands pulled the woolly head tighter against her clenching, gasping pussy.
She bit her lower lip, trying to restrain her cries of passion as the thick tongue sent her reeling into the stratosphere, her heart hammering in her chest and her inner muscles clenching and releasing as if trying to forcefully draw every ounce of cum out of a plunging cock.
Gasping for breath, her wide hips undulated and jerked as a series of small orgasms coursed through her while the large pleasure-giving tongue slowed its maddening motions and finally disappeared.
She felt hot breath on her steamy loins and she untangled her fingers from the thick woolly hair.
The faint light of dawn filtered into the room through the edges of the curtains as the sun peeked over the horizon and she finally realized she wasn't dreaming.
The wrinkled black hands with twisted arthritic fingers resting on her widely-spread, pale inner thighs belonged to none other than Hollis, who was looking up into her eyes with a wide gap-toothed smile on his ancient black face.
By the faint light filtering into the room, she saw the old man was naked as the day he was born.
He lay on his belly, resting on his elbows, his shriveled old ass was discolored and covered with pimply bumps, his scrawny back was wasted and narrow, and his arms and legs were skinny except the joints which were lumpy and swollen.
She lay limp and exhausted from the recent orgasms but a shiver of both trepidation and lingering arousal went down her spine as the old man got to his hands and knees and slowly crawled up the length of her pale sweaty body.
His hands caressed her sweaty skin along the way. His huge black cock bounced and swayed between his legs, thick and swollen with his need, and then his burning eyes met hers again and she stared at him motionless like a deer in the headlights.
