Lily White The Sequel

This story is a continuation of

Lily White.

You really must read that one first, or the characters and situation won't make much sense.

1. But mostly.

It's been a busy week and a half since the Great Upheaval, that wonderful day that I met Antoine, we made glorious love, and I moved in with him, leaving my dead marriage, awakening to the wonder of life, perhaps for the first time since early childhood.

The next day, I collected my clothes, my laptop, and a few other personal effects from the house while Henry was at work. I met (by Zoom) with a divorce lawyer that Antoine found for me; he thinks the settlement can be handled by mediation, which will save on legal fees. I haven't spoken to Henry since I left, and that's just fine with me. I have nothing to say to him, really.

The following day, I saw my gynecologist and got on the pill -- no more condoms, YAY! She was a bit puzzled at my request though: the last time I was in, I wanted fertility therapy. "Different man", I explained. "Ah," she nodded.

The day after that, I disclosed my relationship with Antoine to Ashley, my boss, since our firm has business dealings with his, a potential conflict of interest.

"Good for you, sweetie," she bubbled. "I can see how much happier you are; it's like night and day! Thanks for being upfront about it. But listen, if interior decorators never got it on with sales reps or clients, our industry would have ground to a halt a long time ago. So, by all means, let him screw you; just don't let him screw Ashley Wilton Design Consultants. Got it?"

But mostly... heh-heh... MOSTLY... Antoine and I have been fucking like rabbits.

A couple of days after the Great Upheaval, Antoine started my anal training. Before I met him, the thought of anal sex (if I thought about it at all) disgusted and frightened me. How could any woman ever

want

to let herself be... sodomized? But ever since Antoine mentioned it in passing, that first night, I've been eagerly anticipating what it would be --

will

be -- like, to have that magnificent Black cock of his buried in my ass...

coming

in my ass. Jesus, the thought of it turns me on fiercely, and I've let Antoine know this. That Friday, he came home with a set of "butt plugs", from pinky-sized to extra-large, and a tube of lubricant. I've been wearing them in my anus, for eight hours a day, working my way up the size scale, getting myself increasingly loosened up and ready for the real thing. (I had one in me when I met Ashley for lunch; I wonder what she would have said if she'd known!) And every night, Antoine's been tonguing and fingering my asshole. I've come to love that!

Not that we don't have other kinds of sex too, and plenty of it. I can take Antoine in my cunt easily now: I'm used to him, and he slips right in, all thirteen hard, thick inches of him. The feeling of being stretched deliciously full is still there, and I still feel nice and tight to Antoine, so he tells me; but we don't have to go about it so cautiously and gingerly anymore. The same goes for me taking Antoine in my mouth and throat. Hopefully, it'll be the same for my ass, in the not-too-distant future.

The last two days, I've been wearing the extra-large butt plug -- though even that one is still a good bit smaller than Antoine's cock.

"Tonight's the night, darling," Antoine says in that sexy, dominant voice. We're both naked, in the bedroom. "I'm gonna make love, at last, to that sweet asshole of yours, good and deep." Just the way he says this gets me shivering and trembling, halfway to coming.

"Get in position, baby." I move into doggy position at the edge of the mattress, ass up in the air, face buried in my pillow. Antoine stands behind me. He removes the butt plug. "Gonna lube you up some more." The lube is cold but his fingers are warm; they feel really good in me, opening me up. I'm so ready!

Then I feel the circumcised head of his cock, knocking at my back door, so to speak. This is the moment of truth. I wiggle my ass back onto it, taking it in, working its way through the tight ring of my sphincter -- it's much tighter than the butt plug. But unlike the butt plug, it's warm and alive. More of a challenge, but it feels way better, more thrilling. Antoine chuckles happily.

"Wow, fantastic, bae, you're really taking it! I'm so proud of you. This so sexy... goddamn, I should be filming this, I don't ever want to forget this moment."

"Do you want to go grab your phone?"

"Nah, it's a tempting thought, but I want to focus on enjoying this delicious fat ass; filming would be a distraction."

I don't feel insulted when Antoine refers to my "fat ass." On the contrary, I've been learning just how much Antoine absolutely LOVES my fat body. Or maybe he'd spell it "phat". Coming from him, "fat ass" is a sexy compliment. These days, I look at my 58-inch behind in the bedroom mirror and I think:

OK, I get it.

I admire the way it ripples and judders when I wiggle it. The feeling of liberation -- not needing to be ashamed of my body anymore, or actually taking pleasure in it, even -- is profound. Thank you, Antoine!

But I digress. Back to what's going on in my asshole.

"How are you feeling, darling?"

"It burns a little, but there's no real pain. Give me a minute to get used to it."

"You let me know when you're ready for more."

I take some deep breaths. My sphincter relaxes. I wiggle my fat ass back onto it a little more. Antoine chuckles again: that's the signal that I'm ready. He begins pressing forward, and his hot cock begins sliding in, filling me up. I was expecting him to feed it into me super-slowly, like our first time with vaginal sex, but my anus just seems to welcome him in, like...

where ya been, what took ya so long?

It moves right in, like a hot knife in butter. Before I know it, he's in me all the way. Balls-deep, as they say.

"Holy fuck, Lily!" he gasps. "I'm not gonna last long."

"Don't hold back, honey: I want your come inside me, deep in my ass!"

He begins jack-hammering away deep inside me -- I won't say with all his strength; if he did that, it might put me in the hospital -- but pretty hard and fast. The feeling of unfamiliar extreme fullness gives way to an explosion of weird pleasure, like an orgasmic fire has been lit in my bowels, and it's turning into a conflagration. I'm reaching down between my thighs, frantically slip-sliding my fingers over my throbbing, dripping clit, as Antoine pounds into my ass.

I was fine with this just being for Antoine's pleasure. But damn, the orgasm hits me like a freight train, and I keen with ecstasy. God knows what the neighbors are thinking. It's a good thing there are towels under me, because I'm gushing now like Niagara Falls. (We learned that lesson our first night.)

"Antoine," I scream, "I need it; give it to me! Gimme your come! NOW!!!"

It seems I can do the dominant voice thing too now, heh-heh, because Antoine immediately obeys me, grunting and bellowing like a bull: I feel that huge Black cock twitching as he empties his balls into my rectum, hosing it with his hot come, for what feels like a solid minute. My own orgasm keeps renewing itself, with each hot spurt that I feel. At last, he goes soft and withdraws, followed by an outpouring of semen onto the towel. What a rush it gives me, such a feeling of power, knowing that I've satisfied my man with my ass! I made that mighty Black cock go from hard as rebar to flaccid as a cut of sirloin.

Antoine lies back in bed, and pulls me into his arms. I'm utterly spent, unable to move a muscle, though my legs are still involuntarily trembling.

"Damn, babe. Wow," is all he says. But I know exactly what he means. I'm not feeling too articulate at the moment either.

2. The story.

We lie together like that, recovering, enjoying the sweet post-coital afterglow, for a half hour or so. Eventually, I get up, go to the bathroom and use a wet washcloth to clean the come and lube from my ass. I rinse it out, then bring the washcloth to the bedroom. I clean off Antoine's cock, then give it a kiss.

"I love you, Antoine."

"Thanks bae," Antoine says contentedly. "Love you too. You're amazing, you know that?" He sighs. "I wish I'd met you two years ago."

"You mean, around the time Milena passed away?"

"Yeah. It's been a lonely and dark two years. I'm so glad you're in my life now, bae."

"Me too." I snuggle into him tighter. "Tell me more about Milena," I ask.

"Like... what about her?"

"Well, like... how did it start between the two of you? Is it OK, for me to ask about that?"

"It's fine, bae, I've never been able to talk to anyone about it; we had to keep the sexual thing hidden from others, of course. So, it's good to have you to share the story with." He sighs. "After dad was killed, mom became like, superwoman -- holding it all together for my sake. She kept on helping me with my homework, showing up for all my basketball games, everything, y'know. People think that when you lose a loved one, the hurt heals over time. But it never does. At best, you learn to integrate the pain and loss into your life, you feel me?

"Eventually, the cracks started showing in mom's armor. By that time, I was on the verge of adulthood, around the end of high school, getting ready for college. I turned eighteen. I was able to step up and do more, to take some of the weight off mom's shoulders. Maybe because of that, she finally felt able to give in to her grief. One night she just completely broke down, sobbing her eyes out. Kinda like you did in the restaurant; but she was inconsolable. I held her for hours, and she clung to me, but she just couldn't stop sobbing, and I cried too. I missed dad too.

"It got late. We didn't want to let go of each other, so we both slept in her bed, cuddled up together, still crying. We did it again the next night, though we weren't crying anymore, and it became our new pattern. It still wasn't sexual -- at first. We were just trying to comfort each other. But mom was... really nice to hold, full-figured like you, y'know. And when I get hard, it's pretty obvious, even with my boxers on."

"It's no small thing," I smirk, gently stroking his cock.

"Exactly. Well, at first, mom pretended not to notice my erections, and I pretended not to notice her jilling herself off in the middle of the night, when she thought I was asleep. One night, we were cuddled up, like spoons. Her nightgown had ridden up, and my cock was nestled between her bare ass cheeks. I don't know if she started rubbing her ass against my cock, or it was the other way around, but it became enthusiastically mutual pretty fast. I reached around and started touching her pussy, and she immediately came. I came all over her ass a second later.

"We both felt some guilt and shame about it, but at the same time, it felt so deeply wonderful and thrilling, the bad feelings just couldn't compete. We kissed passionately, hugging each other and laughing for joy. The next night, she took me inside her, slowly. It was a lot like my first time with you, except I wasn't so confident about what I was doing. Mom was determined, and persistent.

"That's how it started, bae."

"Wow. Antoine, that's so sweet... and so hot. Beautiful, really! It sounds weird to say this, but I think you were a really good son to her. You gave her what she needed; and she did the same for you. Is it weird that it gets me turned on, hearing about you and Milena?"

"Weird... maybe. But who says weird is bad? I like it, that it turns you on."

2. The story continues.

I ought to leave it there. But my curiosity gets the better of me.

"Did you ever do it anally with her?"

"Yeah. Of course. How do you think I got so I good at it?" he laughs.

"Cheeky boy," I laugh back. "Tell me about the first time you fucked your mom's ass."

"Well, we'd been sexually active for about year at that point. Mom was pretty open-minded, sexually. Well, obviously -- otherwise she wouldn't have been open to a sexual relationship with me. She had a circle of friends, other middle-aged women -- the Hen Club, they called themselves -- and when they got together, the conversation didn't always stay G-rated, apparently. Though obviously she never breathed a word to them about us. Anyway, she came home one day from a Hen Club gathering, eager to try ass play with me. I was certainly down with that. Mom had a very sexy fat ass, not quite as big and sexy as yours, but close. We started with me kissing it, which I'd been secretly wanting to do for a long time, but I was too shy to ask for it. She lay on her tummy, naked, and I just kissed and massaged her beautiful fat ass for over an hour. It kinda sent her into a blissful trance. But it got me hard as a fencepost. When she eventually rolled over, she saw the state I was in and felt guilty: I'd been giving her hours of pleasure but she hadn't done anything for me.

"'Do you want to put in me, medvídek?', she asked." He says it imitating Milena's Czech accent, and I feel it brings me a step closer to her: I have some idea what she sounded like.

"What's 'medvídek' mean?"

"It's like, 'little bear', in Czech, it's a term of endearment: that's what mom started calling me, once we became lovers."

"Can I call you that, Antoine? Or would that be too..."

"I'd really like that, Lily. That's sweet." He gives me a kiss.

"Okay, medvídek. But back to the anal sex story."

"Right. So when she said 'put it in,' I thought she just meant normal sex. I got in position to make love to her as usual. But she giggled and said, 'No, in my

naughty

hole, sweet boy.' In case there was any doubt what she meant, she reached back, spreading her asscheeks, showing me her 'naughty hole'. We used butter for lube."

"Wow! Just like that?"

"Well, yeah, she hadn't prepared herself for it like you did, with butt plugs. So we had to go really slowly, and it was still a little painful for her. But she was absolutely determined, and eventually I was all the way in. I started moving it in her, and she started to feel pleasure. But I came before she could reach her orgasm. Still, she was pretty happy about it. She loved the feeling of me coming in her ass."

"Me too!"

"Me three. Anyway, she wanted to try again the next day. We read up about anal sex, and we got better and better at it over time. Anyway, that's the story of our first time with anal sex."

"I wanna get better at it too, medvídek."

He looks at me. "Prdelka, if you get any better, I'm gonna fuckin' die of a heart attack. That was pretty near the ultimate anal sex experience for me, just now. I don't think there's much room for improvement; but I'll be happy with a lifetime of repeat performances."

"What's 'prdelka'?"

"That's what I'm gonna call you from now on. It basically means 'my sweet little piece of ass', another term of endearment, that a man might use for his girlfriend. I called mom that sometimes, when I was feeling frisky. I think it's quite appropriate for you." He gives my ass a playful swat.

"Antoine," I whisper in his ear, "I love being your prdelka, your sweet little piece of ass... just like your mom was."

He looks at me, uncertainly. I'm playing with fire, I know. I risk treading on Antoine's sacred memories, profaning them, causing him pain. But every time I bring up this Milena kink thing of mine with him, he gives me his blessing... so I think this is OK. It sure as hell is getting me hot. And, yep, it's working on Antoine too.

"My medvídek is getting hard again, aren't you? Your beautiful Black cock is turning to iron again." I resume stroking it. "Just like it did for your mom, for Milena. I wish I could have seen the two of you together, making love. Mother and son, fucking each other, loving each other, making each other come. That would have been so hot! Show me, Antoine, medvídek! Show me how you fucked your mom! Show me how you made her come!"

My big Black god-man suddenly rolls on top of me, crushing me into the mattress, kissing me hard. His tongue aggressively invades me mouth. I wrap my thighs around his waist; his huge Black cock enters me and slides home.

"Unngh!!" he grunts. "Damn you're wet, Lily!"

"Call me prdelka. I'm your prdelka now, just like your mom was! I get so fucking wet and turned on, Antoine, my medvídek, thinking about you and your mom." I'm so worked up, sexually and emotionally, I start crying.

"Yes, you're my prdelka. Gonna fuck this sweet White fat ass now."

He's thrusting into me now, hard and steady.

"God yes, Antoine, fuck the shit out of me, I want your come inside me, in my cunt. Oh God, my medvídek, I'm coming, I'm COMING right now on your COCK, just like your mom came for you, came on this same glorious cock. Come with me, medvídek, come inside your prdelka! Give it to me, you sweet darling

motherfucker!"

As I unleash my stream of mom-kink talk, his tempo accelerates to jack-hammer speed.

Then he stabs deep -- once, twice, thrice -- as though trying to invade my womb.

"Fuck, Lily! Uuuunnnnffffff!!!"

I weep with gratitude, as his hardness breaks, and I feel has hot come filling my overstretched cunt to overflowing. My medvídek, my little bear, my Antoine.

I'm not a big believer in the supernatural, but I sort of sense, or imagine I sense, Milena's beneficent presence in the room with us, watching over her beloved son/lover Antoine from beyond the grave, blessing our union.

3. A Black and White future.

A month passes. Then another, and another. Antoine lets me do a little redecorating of his apartment. He approves of the changes. It starts to feel like

our

apartment.

My divorce mediator works out a standard 50-50 asset split settlement with Henry. He agrees to buy out my share of the house. Apparently his secretary, presumably the one missing a thong panty, has now moved in with him. I hope they're happier together than Henry and I were. It feels a little weird to think of another woman cooking in my kitchen, sleeping in my bed, and shitting in my toilet. But the settlement money in my bank account helps assuage those feelings. In a year or so, Antoine and I should have enough for a substantial down-payment on a house of our own. Once the divorce is finalized, nine months from now, Antoine and I can get married. There's never been any doubt that that's where our relationship is heading. Then I can go off the pill and start having Antoine's kids: that'll be the best revenge.

My mother died a couple of years ago, before I met Antoine, of a sudden aneurysm, passing out of this life leaving barely a ripple. She took up so little space when she was alive. I never knew her, or whether there was even much of a "her" to know. Soon after that, my father developed Alzheimer's. I visit him once a month or so in the nursing home. I tried telling him that I had left Henry, and had met a man named Antoine, but he didn't seem to take it in. When I took Antoine along for a visit, my father kept addressing him as "Henry". Towards the end of the visit, he suddenly looked at Antoine in a different way, and then unleashed a stream of filthy racist invective at him. (Not a racist bone in my father's body, no siree.) The next time I visited (by myself, for obvious reasons), dad didn't know who I was. Then he basically stopped talking. I still visit him once a month, out of a sense of duty, but I don't stay long. It's safe to take Antoine along with me now, since my father won't say anything.

I knew, when I fell in love with a Black man, that I'd have work to do, unlearning the unconscious racism I'd grown up with. Just as one example, Antoine has Black friends, and when they get together and I'm the only White person in the room, I sometimes feel a little uncomfortable. They're not doing anything rude; I'm just not used to being in a non-White space, being the minority. How many more times has Antoine been the only Black person in the room, when White people around him have said and done racially insensitive things, oblivious to the effect on him? So Antoine and I talk through these feelings of racial discomfort together, and it really strengthens our relationship. Antoine's had a lot more practice dealing with these issues, as a Black man raised by White (Czech immigrant) parents.