"I LUV Chocolate Pie 01: Jocelyn" by CraigOOL
Interracial - Younger man becomes addicted to older black pussy
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Author's notes: Warning! This is an interracial consensual sex story, where the white man gets a taste of black pussy and finds he cannot live without it. This hopefully will be hot enough to be a whack off story for the people who like these themes, as it does have a lot of sex in it. For those who don't like these themes please move along. Constructive comments are appreciated, hate speech will be deleted.]
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My name is Ryan Lewis. I grew up in Atlanta, in the rich white suburb of Druid Hills, near Emory University. My parents were (and are) associated with a research group tied to the university. Even today, Druid Hills is still 75% white. But our housekeeper, Emma, was a thick black woman, as kind and generous as the day is long. There is a comfort to me from soft talking soft bodied black women that other women just can't match.
Of course men of my age (then late 20's) didn't see wonderful people like that as romantic lifetime partners, so I fell for a dark red haired European Hispanic woman named Carla Sanchez, got married after we graduated, and moved to Denver to be closer to her family and friends. One of them seduced her, and we shared torrid threesomes for about a year, until they decided they didn't really need a man in their relationship. We divorced, they got custody of everything (including the dog), so given my age (then 30's) I quickly arranged to work as a management consultant for a company in Atlanta. I took back my old room, but found that Emma, our luxurious housekeeper, had been replaced by a hard bodied 20 something Sade, who had no use for white boys. She was polite, but made it clear she took care of the house, not me.
Work is a different matter. Down in the Peachtree Business District, we work in one of the older glass skyscrapers that has a view of the Coca-Cola building. Since Emory and Druid Hills have such close ties to the empire, it seems like home to me. While we have a much more balanced racial mixture than I've ever been exposed to before, the environment in the company is 'can do' and 'play nice' on a level I've never encountered outside of my parents jobs.
Jocelyn Jefferson (Joyce to her friends), a thick black woman in her late 40's, took me under her wing, since we were of similar ages. She reminds me of all the things I loved about Emma, so kind, so generous, so soft and a backfield that was always in motion, with generous pom-poms that seemed to never stop moving either. Her cherubic, pleasant face has puffy cheeks, like she is permanently giving a blowjob even when she is just laughing at you.
"It's OK, Ryan. My lush body was meant to be looked at, heck, even fondled. Just so you know for company purposes, I give my consent in advance." Joyce often said, although she often changed out the 'body' to boobs, butt, and even once 'pouty cock sucking lips' (always with that pearly white smile and permanent blowjob cheeks).
Joyce does have wide, soft, luscious lips. Her heart shaped face must have some Irish ancestry, because she always shows mischief afoot just with her expressions, and claims to be part Leprechaun (which I for one do not doubt). The wide, vivacious smile from ear to ear, reveals a playful woman who makes even the most hardcore workday fun. Not that her days were anything less than hardcore, I heard more about who was doing what to who and how often, along with how much they liked it than I ever had before, even among close friends, or even Carla's bi friends in Denver. Trust me, bi women can scald your ears with deviant pornographic descriptions that you will remember forever. Joyce had them beat, but in a friendly way, like your mother telling you the neighbors had taken turns using vibrators and strap-on's while eating out her pussy last night.
But Joyce is, while sometimes vulgar, almost never interested in the shock value of her sexual descriptions. She is always playful, teasing, tempting. She reminds me of how Emma was with my Dad, and that gave me a permission structure, a comfort-ability, that allowed me to go far further afield than I ever have with anyone I have ever worked with. I did not realize it is verbal foreplay until I am in far too deep.
Joyce loves the stories of Carla and our threesomes, and when the younger black women stop by for her advice, she almost always drags me into the conversation. Then she will take the story most likely to appeal to the young black woman, how sexually experienced I am, and how much I loved being taught oral skills by Carla and her bi friends. I did not realize I am being used as an acoustic muff warmer, until I start picking up their joint scent of arousal on a regular basis.
"Do you like black women?" Joyce asks one day out of the blue.
"I LUV to eat chocolate!" I replied back to Joyce brightly, who went off without a word and filed her nails for five or even ten minutes at her desk.
The next day, when I arrive at work, there is a homemade chocolate cream pie on my desk. Joyce is dressed in a lace dress with lace lingerie that most women would not wear to a club, much less to the office. She approaches my desk in sort of a crab walk, always staying sideways to me, emphasizing her big breasts (had to be D or E cups) and that fulsome ass used to demolish brick walls instead of a jackhammer.
"I made the pie for you. I heard you say yesterday you love to eat chocolate pie." Joyce says, almost demurely.
"Thank you very much! It is lovely, and I look forward to eating it!", I said for everyone to hear. I pull her close and whisper softly so no one else can hear, "But the chocolate pie I really want to eat is the hair pie between your legs. Full facial nappy dugout dinner. The full meal deal."
