Brown Sugar 1

This is a true story of interracial sex and adultery. If these topics are offensive to you, I advise you to proceed no further. However, if you are like me, and believe that forbidden fruit always tastes better than the more conventional kind, you are in for a real treat. Read on.

I am a 32 y/o white male, handsome and athletic, married, no kids, and live in Foster City, California. I have a great career as a software engineer. My wife is a CPA with a large Bay Area accounting firm. I guess my wife and I are perfect examples of what used to be called Yuppies. Both of us were raised in lily-white upper middle class neighborhoods, went to the best schools, socialize with other people just like ourselves, and live a pretty insulated existence. Last month all that began to change for me when I strayed from the nest and had an affair.

Over Memorial Day, my wife Marsha flew to Los Angeles to visit her parents, leaving me home alone for the long holiday weekend. Saturday morning, as I was checking our mailbox, I ran into our new neighbor, a divorced black lady named Arlene. "What's up? Got big plans for the weekend?" she asked.

I replied, "Nope. The wife went to LA. Won't be back till Monday night. I guess I'll stay home, read, and maybe watch a little TV. How about you? You doing anything?"

"Uh-uh. My kids are visiting their dad this weekend, and won't be home till Tuesday afternoon. I don't have a date, so I guess I'll stick close to home too," Arlene sighed.

We made small talk for a while then I told her, "I gotta get something to eat. If you get bored, drop by for a glass of wine later on."

"OK. I'll keep that in mind," she said. I headed for home, and quickly forgot about my conversation with Arlene.

Later that evening, about 7PM, the doorbell rang. When I answered the door, there stood Arlene. I was kind of taken aback. I said, "Hi," and just stood there staring at her.

She said, "Aren't you going to invite me in? Or did you forget you'd invited me over for a glass of wine?"

"Sorry for being rude. It's just that I didn't think you'd take me up on the offer, that's all. Please, come on in." Arlene seated herself on the couch as I fetched a bottle of Chardonnay and two glasses. We sat on the couch, drank wine, listened to music, and talked about everything under the sun for at least an hour. I gave her the run down on my background and career, and she filled me in on her life. I learned that Arlene was 38 y/o, divorced just 5 months previous, the mother of three children, and taught music and dance at a local junior college.

"Looks like this bottle is dry," Arlene said, as she poured the last few drops into her glass.

"Plenty more where that came from," I said, heading for the kitchen to retrieve a fresh bottle. I refilled our glasses and sat down on the couch, a little closer to Arlene this time. As we continued to chatter back and forth, Arlene told me she almost didn't stop by because Marsha had been rude and nasty to her since the day she moved in. "The only reason I dropped in is because she's in LA, and you seem like a nice guy. I want to get to know you better. But, I gotta tell you, I think that your wife is rude, and I also get the impression she doesn't like black folks," Arlene said.

I don't think Marsha is a racist, but Arlene was right about one thing. Marsha can't stand her. Right after Arlene moved in, Marsha told me Arlene was aggressive, pushy and seemed to have a chip on her shoulder. Marsha said she didn't want anything to do with her. I told Arlene that it was true that Marsha didn't like her, but I didn't think Marsha was a racist. "I don't think race has anything to do with it. You two disliked each other the instant you met. Fact is, for whatever reason, you can't stand each other, and probably never will," I said.

That said, I told Arlene that was no reason her and I couldn't be friends. As I refilled our glasses, I said, "Forget about it. Besides, Marsha's in LA. Right now, it's just you and me, and we seem to be getting along fine. Lets enjoy each other's company and not dwell on negative things."

At some point after that, the talk turned to the topic of interracial dating and interracial sex. I told Arlene that I had never dated or been with anyone other than white women. She said she had dated a white guy years before when she was in college, but had married a black man shortly after that. She said she had dated a couple of white guys since she had divorced, and found it kind of exciting and refreshing.

As Arlene continued to talk, I stared at her and found myself checking her out a little bit closer. I suddenly realized I was fascinated by, and attracted to her. I told myself it was the wine, since we were both getting a little tipsy by now, but looking back on it, I know now that I was kidding myself. Fact is, tipsy or sober, she was the most exotic woman I had ever seen. She aroused a sexual attraction in me, stronger than any I'd ever experienced before. Arlene is shorter and heftier than Marsha, almost chunky.

That evening, she was wearing a short skirt and a halter-top that indicated she had plenty of curves in all the rights places. Close cropped, tightly curled hair, dyed almost blond; dark mahogany skin; almond shaped eyes; strong, broad African facial features; and a dazzling smile. I had never considered cheating on Marsha, let alone making a pass at a black woman before, but the urge was getting stronger by the minute.

Arlene must have sensed my desire and arousal, and had similar feelings. She brought things to a head, snapped me out of my daydream, and brought me back to reality when she slid across the couch, her thigh coming to rest against mine. Licking her lips, she looked me in the eyes and said, "Honey. I think we both have a bad case of jungle fever." I stammered something in agreement as Arlene started massaging the inside of my thigh. She worked her hand upward till she was rubbing my cock through my pants. She ran her tongue inside my ear, then whispered, "Whatcha think we should do about it."

In reply, I slipped my hands around her waist, letting them come to rest on the small of her back, and pulled her toward me. I placed my lips on hers and we began to french kiss, swapping tongues for what seemed like minutes at a time. Arlene slid her hands under my shirt, pulled it off, and threw it aside. She licked and nipped at my chest as I played with her titties through her halter-top. I slid my hands under her skirt and fondled her thighs and ass. I felt nothing but skin. "Damn! You're not wearing panties," I panted. Arlene giggled and said, "I thought something like this might happen, so I dressed for the occasion." She raised one knee as I worked my hand up the inside of her thigh. I stroked her bush, then massaged her pussy. Arlene worked my nylon swimming trunks off, and tossed them behind the couch.

As she did so, she gently stoked my cock from top to bottom, then cupped my balls in her hand, and massaged them. I told Arlene to stand up and face me. When she did, I told her, "Take your clothes off, baby. I wanna see what you're hiding under there."

She kicked off her sandals, undid the tie on her halter-top, and tossed it across the room. Then, as if doing a strip tease, she unbuttoned her skirt, worked it down over her hips, stepped out of it, and tossed it aside. Flashing a coy grin, Arlene slowly executed a 360 degree turn, showing off her considerable attributes, and then came to a stop facing me. Her body astounded me. I couldn't help but compare her to Marsha.

I was not accustomed to intimacy with a woman with a build and the raw sex appeal that Arlene possessed. Marsha is pale skinned and anemic looking, unathletic, tall and lanky, thin as a rail, with hardly any shape at all. She dresses like a 70 year old matron, and acts as though sex is an unpleasant marital obligation, rather than something to be enjoyed. Arlene on the other hand exudes sex. She is about 5'6", and 150 lbs. Short, chunky, and cute as can be. Perky little cone-shaped titties with long dark black nipples that look like tootsie rolls. A bit thick through the middle, with a waist that is still visible, but probably not as well defined as it was 10 years ago. A round tummy, protruding slightly above a thick, curly, jet black, well manicured bush. Wide flaring hips that look custom made for lovemaking, a large, prominent protruding ass, and thick, well muscled thighs and calves.

Arlene placed her hands on her hips and cooed, "Like what you see?"

I reached out to her and said, "Never seen anything I liked better. Come on over here. I've got a surprise for you I think you're gonna like."

She slid down next to me on the couch and giggled, "Oooooohhhh. I love surprises." I pushed her back on the couch, knelt between her knees and placed her legs over my shoulders. Teasing her, I licked the inside of each leg a few times, from the knee to the top of the thigh. As I did so, I worked two fingers inside her pussy and began to stoke her clit. In short order she went from moist to wet. As I felt her pussy begin to open up like a flower in bloom, I buried my face in her thick dark bush.

"I want to taste you," I said, then parted her cunt lips with my tongue. Arlene moaned. As her pussy began to open up a little more I plunged my tongue deep inside her. I stroked the crack of her ass with one hand, while I rolled her clit between the thumb and forefinger of my other hand. Her pussy was sopping wet by now, and she gave off the strong, acrid, musky scent of a woman in heat, stronger than any I had ever smelled before. Arlene began to pant and groan, and roll her ass back and forth as I fucked her with my tongue. Between moans, she yelled words of encouragement, begging me not to stop. As I felt her nearing climax, I sucked her clit into my mouth, and began to chew gently on it, and stroke it with my tongue.

All of a sudden, Arlene stiffened and I knew she was about to get off. She arched her back and came in a series of violent spasms. She clawed at the back of my head, and screamed till she was out of breath. Then she went limp, and lay back on the couch, panting. I got back on the couch and we lay there together, our arms and legs wrapped around each other. Arlene told me no one had ever gone down on her before.

"That was wonderful," she said. I told her it had been a treat for me too because Marsha didn't like it, and I hadn't done that to a woman since I had been married. "You can do that me anytime you want," Arlene said with a smile.

"You can count on it. You got the best tasting pussy in town," I replied.

By now I was raring to go. I pulled Arlene off the couch and said, "Let's go upstairs, babe. I wanna make love in a bed, not on the floor or a couch, the first time at least."

She hopped up, and as I locked the front door, she grabbed another bottle of wine and two fresh glasses. "I have a feeling we might need some refreshments later on," she giggled. We walked up the stairs to the second floor bedroom, necking and fondling each other the whole way.

Once in the bedroom, we embraced, and kissed deeply. "Turn that bed down while I let some air in here," I said. The weather was sweltering that day, so I walked to the patio door and opened the curtains and sliding glass door. As I did so, Arlene, tossed the pillows in the corner, threw the comforter on the floor, hopped up on the bed, and spread out on the pink satin sheets in a sexy pose, just like she owned the place.

I slid into the bed next to her and asked, "Want me to wear a condom?"

"Uh-uh. Definitely not. I want to feel you cum inside me," Arlene replied. We french kissed again, as she stroked my cock, and I fingered her cunt. Within seconds I was stiff as a board. I sat up and knelt between Arlene's legs. I told Arlene that I hoped it didn't bother her, us screwing in the same bed I shared with Marsha. "Hell no, it doesn't bother me. Forget that bitch. Let's make love, baby," Arlene snarled.

She guided the head of my dick inside her. She was so tight that I had to work it in gradually. When I finally hit bottom, Arlene threw her legs around my back and gripped tightly. I was amazed at how tight her pussy was, as well as how strong her legs were. I guess all those years of dancing had paid off for her. As we made love, I told Arlene that I now realized I had been hoping something like this would happen ever since I met her.

She grinned and told me she had been trying to figure out a way to get me into bed for weeks. We made love as if we were custom made for each other. Arlene moves a lot as she makes love. I was not used to that, and found I really liked it. We must have screwed on every square inch of that bed. She is also very vocal, and I found I liked that too. We kept up a running conversation the whole time we were getting it on. Arlene asked me if I liked screwing her as well as I liked Marsha. I told her there was no comparison. "You're the best I've ever had, baby. After this, its gonna be tough for me to even get it up for Marsha, or anyone else."

She clamped her legs tightly around my waist, wiggled her ass till I thought I was going to cum right there, laughed and then said, "Love that brown sugar, dontcha?" As the intensity of our lovemaking increased, Arlene got a bit looser. As I felt her open her hips up a bit wider, I tossed her legs over my shoulders, pinned her knees to her chest, and fucked her as hard, deep, and fast as I could. She has a sexual appetite unlike any woman I've ever been with. She loves to screw and is real good at it.

"Like it doggy style, babe," I asked her?

"Oh yeah," she said, as I pulled out, and she rolled over onto her hands and knees, grasping the foot of the bed, and hoisting her ass in the air. That was all the invitation I needed. I slipped inside her pussy from behind, grabbed her hips, and pulled her into me. As I banged away furiously, Arlene flexed her pussy, and tossed her ass from side to side. We were facing a floor to ceiling mirror and stared in fascination at our reflection as we went at it. Watching ourselves fuck seemed to increase our passion.

A few minutes of that, and I slid out and rolled over onto my back, inviting Arlene to mount me. She straddled me, reached behind her back, guided the head of my dick inside her, then slid all the way down the shaft, wiggling her ass the whole way. She humped up and down as I sucked and chewed on her nipples. She slid her feet under my knees, I grabbed an ass cheek in each hand and we got down to some serious fucking.

When I felt I was about to cum, I told Arlene so. She dismounted, rolled onto her back, spread her legs wide, and I skewered her there in the middle of the bed. As we both neared climax, the room was filled with mating sounds. I was panting, grunting, and groaning. Arlene was in full cry, moaning, crying, and squealing with delight. As I worked my dick in and out of her, it made a wet, squishy sound. I plunged so deep inside her, I felt myself hit bottom. I ground away as I came in huge spurts. It felt like I shot a load inside her that would have filled a tea cup. The feeling of pleasure and satisfaction was so intense, I almost passed out.

About the same time, Arlene came. She arched her back, pumped her hips like a piston, squeezed her legs tightly around my back, screamed loud enough to wake the dead, clawed viciously at my back, and sunk her teeth into my shoulder, biting hard enough to almost draw blood. We lay back exhausted, and fell asleep in each other's arms. We awoke about 2AM and went out on the patio and made love on the chaise lounge, then went back to bed and slept till late morning. We woke up to find that the bedroom was total mess. The sheets were covered with cum spots, the bedclothes were strewn all over the place, and the room reeked of the stale smell of recent sex - sweat, cum, and pussy juice all mixed together.

After we had a bite to eat and cleaned the place up, we went to Arlene's condo, where we spent the remainder of the weekend. I don't think we ever saw the light of day the rest of that weekend. We were either, eating, sleeping, or screwing. Late Monday afternoon found us naked as jay birds, cuddled up on Arlene's couch watching a movie. About an hour before Marsha was due back, I stood up and started to get dressed.

"Gotta get home before the wife arrives," I sighed. Arlene pushed me back on the couch, wrapped her lips around the head of my cock, and began to work out. As I got harder and harder, she worked her way down the shaft until my dick was completely buried in her throat. I have never had a blow job like that before or since. I came in a matter of minutes. As I fell back exhausted on the couch, I told Arlene, "I hope the wife isn't in the mood tonight. I couldn't get it up again if someone put a gun to my head."

"Good. I don't want her getting anything I could have had," said Arlene.

Since that weekend, Arlene and I get together every chance we get. I manage to come home early a couple of times a week and we spend a couple of hours in bed at her place. One night, we both snuck out for an hour or so and made love in the spa. At one point, I was even considering leaving Marsha and moving in with Arlene, but we both agreed that the attraction is mainly physical, so we decided to keep things just the way they are. I know one thing though, I sure look at the world in a different way since my wild weekend with Arlene.