Rastus Visits me at home
It was a Wednesday, twelve days after our incredibly memorable visit to 'Tent City' at Marble Arch. I had pretty well recovered physically. Although there was still a bit of bruising on my buttocks where he had slapped me, and on my breasts where Rastus had been somewhat rough. Generally I was OK, with just a bit of a welcome ache in my body and a happy memory. However my labia and vulva, which had taken the onslaught of that splendid black cock, were still more sore. I felt enormous contentment within myself as the bruising after effects of being so well serviced by the imposing Jamaican were wearing off.
John, my husband, was not quite so content. I had been shocked and hurt when he had enticed me to allow another man take advantage of my body. I had taken revenge. I had deprived him of any sexual contact for the twelve days since, explaining to him that I was far too sore to allow him close to my breasts or, worse still, my vagina. He was desperate, attempting to touch me whenever he had the opportunity. But I fended him off, telling him that I was not ready for any amorous overture with him. If only he was more masterful. I really did love him but he needed to man up before I could allow him access to my body again.
He had to pay the consequences for literally 'leading me up the garden path' to tent city and the subsequent sexual exploitation by Rastus. God it had been good though! Wonderful for me, both physically and mentally, allowing me to feel better about my body and self regard than ever before. I felt beautiful, appreciated and sexually fulfilled after experiencing deep penetration a decent sized cock. It was a miracle cure for any 50 year old woman who had, up until then, been leading a sexually mundane life for the previous twenty five years or so.
'So thrilling; so exciting; highly recommended,'
I had thought to myself.
I was in our flat in London that Wednesday morning finishing off the domestic chores before settling myself into my writing. I had seen John off to work earlier. He had seemed unusually flustered and nervous as he took his leave of me. I was still in bed as he leant down to kiss me before departing. It wasn't the usual peck on the cheek but a longer more loving kiss on the lips as he held me tightly in his arms. His hand crept to my breast and squeezed it hard.
"No, John," I told him but hoped that he would continue.
Much more loving than normal. Unusual; I wondered what brought that on!
After he left I got dressed in a casual summer skirt and a pale blue blouse. As I went about my day my mind kept returning to the tented city, and that huge Negro who had taken charge and given me the most fulfilling sexual experience of my life.
I turned my attention to my work. I was due to submit an article to the Woman's magazine I write for by nine o'clock the next morning. I hadn't even thought about the subject yet. But only 10,000 words so I ought to be able to knock that up quickly enough. Then I would have the day to myself. Perhaps a walk in Hyde Park? I looked out of the window. It was raining! Now, what to write about.
There was a buzz of the street door bell. We shared a communal front door with the three other flats in our block, with each flat having an internal main door. I answered the intercom:
"Hello, can I help you?"
"Err... Yer... Hello."
"Who is that?" I asked. There was a pause.
"Er, it's me. Er...Rastus."
"Who?"
"Rastus, you know..." Suddenly a deep chill ran through my body. I physically shivered. God it was him.
"Oh, err..., what do you want?" My voice was abrasive, but I was also trembling.
There was no response. "What do you want?" I repeated; then: "Are you still there? I asked, still with a quivering voice.
"Yer."
What in the hell was he doing here? How had he got our address? What's going on? Poor man. What does he want?
I trembled as I used a softer tone. "What do you want Rastus?"
"Er... Maybe a cup of tea?" He asked hesitatingly.
My mind went back to what I had been thinking only a few minutes previously. I shivered again. I was reluctant to let him in. In no way should I allow entry to my flat to a vagrant of no fixed abode. I was alone. It would stupid and strictly against the advice of any sensible adult. I trembled. Poor man; in the rain. I took a deep breath. "OK. You had better come up." I buzzed the button to give him access. My heart beat strengthened. My pussy tingled.
My hands were sweating as I tucked in my blouse and smoothed down my skirt. I opened the door into the stairwell and leaned out to hear him ascending. Soon he was in front of me. My first reaction was how huge and how bedraggled he was. Then I noticed that he was soaking wet. He was wearing the same dirty clothing that he had been in when we had last met. I was reluctant for the neighbours to see him. "You're soaking. You had better come in," I told him.
He entered the flat behind me. I showed him into the sitting room. He was dripping from the rain but I was reluctant to offer him a seat on our well upholstered sofa and chairs. He was a couple of feet away from me. He looked dirty and I was reminded of the musty smell of him.
"You are soaking. We need to get those wet clothes off you," I told him as a mother would to a child. "Would you like a hot shower?"
He shivered. "Yer, that would be good." He smiled. I smiled back. "I haven't had a shower or bath for weeks," he told me.
I made an instant decision. "OK, Rastus. Come with me"
As we passed through our large bedroom I saw him looking at the king size bed still rucked up after our night. My negligee had been carelessly discarded on the unmade bed. He picked it up, fingered the soft silk and put it to his nose. "Emm, smells really good," he murmured.
How dare he! "That's enough of that," I told him as I took the garment roughly from him and pushed it under the pillow.
Through the bedroom there was a large en suit bathroom which included an open wet area with several powerful shower heads from above and from the wall. "Oh wow," said Rastus as he took in the large sumptuous surroundings.
"OK Rastus. Take as long as you like." There are spare towels on the shelf. He took off his jacket, turned to me full on and, with a smile on his face, he started to unbuckle the belt at his waist. I paused and watched. My heart thumped in my chest as I caught his eye. I quickly turned and left the room.
What was I doing? Here was I in the smart London flat which I shared with my well off husband, allowing a strange man
(well strange other than the fact that he had previously shafted me so satisfactorily in the presence of my husband)
, about to get naked in my bathroom. I had to wonder what my smart Mayfair friends would say over tea at Fortnums of such an extraordinary situation. Was I mad?
I got my phone and rang my husband.
"John Gallagher," he answered.
"John, he's here." My voice was trembling.
"What was that darling? Who is there?"
"That man we met a couple of weeks ago. You know. The man on the tube."
"What? Tube? Who?"
"Oh God, you know. That man in the tent, Rastus."
"Oh! Really? Rastus? Where is he?"
"In the flat. He is here right now. I don't know how he got our address but he is here now."
"It's OK, darling. Just calm down. You are obviously distressed. How did he get in the flat?"
"He just appeared on the door step and rang the bell. I let him in as it was raining."
"Is he in the room with you now?"
"No, he's in the shower. He was soaking wet so I told him to take a hot shower."
"Oh, OK, I see. That is very good of you, darling. Well done. I expect that his clothes are soaked as well."
"Yes, he was dripping wet when he came in."
"Well, perhaps it would be a good idea to put his clothes in the dryer."
"But I can't do that, he will be naked in the shower."
"Penny darling. A couple of weeks ago he fucked you. Don't start getting all modest and silly now. Get his clothes and sort them out."
"Oh. OK."
"He will be starving. Perhaps you could give him some lunch?"
"Oh, yes. Good idea."
"OK, darling. I am sure that you will have no problems but phone me if you do."
"Oh, OK."
"And darling. It will be alright. Whatever happens, I love you."
My heart was thumping in my chest. 'Whatever happens?' What did he mean by that? "Yes, and I love you too."
We finished the call. I went to the fridge, took out a cottage pie that had been left over from our supper a couple of nights previously and popped it in the oven.
I returned to the bedroom, hid my nightdress under the pillows and quickly smoothed down the duvet. I tentatively moved quietly towards the open bathroom door. Behind the frosted glass I could see his body moving as he washed himself under the cascade of hot water. My heart was thumping in my chest. His clothes were on the floor. Other than his jacket there was only a pair of jogger trousers, a T shirt and a pair of socks. No pants! I sneaked into the room and picked up the the garments as quietly as possible, hoping that he would not see me. I took them to the utility room. They were quite smelly. Instead of putting them in the dryer I emptied the pockets of some small change and a set of keys, and put them into the washing machine, dialling in a quick wash.
I went back to the bedroom, retrieved John's terry-towel bath robe, stood by the door of the bathroom, and avoided looking in. "Rastus," I called.
"Yer,"
"Rastus, I have put your clothes in the washing machine. There is a white bath robe here which you can use when you come out."
"Oh. OK." I was about to turn and leave when he continued. "Why don't you come in here and join me," he laughed. I inadvertently turned to look into the steaming room. I could see the naked body through the frosted glass. My breathing quickened. I felt warmth in my pussy. "We could have a good time," he added.
He came away from the steam and stood facing me. Through the mist I could see his well chiselled black body. It was impossible to avoid the instinct that diverted my eyes to his cock. God it was a good one. Ten inches of beautiful black, circumcised and heavily veined penis with a significant mushroom head. Hanging down perfectly. I shivered as I recalled it being inserted into me only a few days ago. It was now hanging sloppily and extravagantly down in front of him, clear for me to see; ready for action. He was like a Greek God. My legs felt weak. "No Rastus." I told him with a shaking voice. "I have to do lunch."
I ran from the bedroom and sought refuge in the kitchen. My heart was beating fast and my hands were trembling as I picked up a glass, grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and took several large gulps. Once I cooled down I started adding vegetables to the simple meal I was preparing. What was going on? I was a highly respectable
(well that was before John led me to Tent City)
, well educated woman. And yet, here I was in my flat, having encouraged a vagrant black man to get naked in my shower, then expose himself to me. I shuddered as I continued to prepare the meal.
I laid the small table we normally ate off in the kitchen, took a bottle of beer from the fridge and helped myself to another glass of wine. I giggled to myself like a school girl as I thought of the sight of that magnificent tool that I had just run from.
I picked up my phone and got through to my husband. "Darling, it's me." I told him breathlessly.
"Oh, Penny. Oh dear darling. Are you alright. I have been thinking about you non stop."
(I bet he was. Probably playing with his pecker as he did so.)
"Yes, I am fine."
"Where is he?"
