A siren wailed in the near distance; probably on the ring road that wound around his haven in The Village like a tarmac leviathan, bejewelled with pin-points of light in the night, hiding them securely from prying eyes. Enoch paid it no heed and peered through the dense cloud of smoke that served to momentarily obscure the teenage girl from his line of sight, although he heard her cough delicately over the bubbling bowl she held in her lap.
"So, what excuse did you give your parents this time, Sharon?" He asked and took the pipe from her outstretched hand.
Andrea's daughter paused for a moment, holding the smoke deep in her lungs. "I told them I was going to see Helen and do some homework." She croaked and blew an aromatic fog around the overstuffed couch where they sat.
Marley wrinkled his nose at the odour and tucked his face between his paws, preferring the smell of his tuna supper to the acrid taste of weed. He wasn't particularly enamoured of this female sharing his lair but stayed put to avoid the teeming rain outside; anything was better than getting wet.
"Really," Enoch took a long draw and let the smoke drift from his flared nostrils. "I didn't know cock sucking was on the curriculum."
Sharon giggled and narrowed her eyes against the fumes, feeling the drug tingle through her flesh. He looks like a Djinni, she thought, a black efreet ready to grant me wishes three - I wonder what my first one would be. She giggled again, well aware of what she wished for - and knowing full well it would be granted. Her hand slid along his thigh and caressed the firm muscle beneath the dark skin; the sensation arousing her as it had from the moment she laid her clear grey eyes on him.
"Mr. Carter could give me lessons anytime if it was."
"Practice, they say, makes perfect," Enoch said and parted his thighs for her hand to explore higher.
"Is that what I need, practice?" she asked, breathing faster as she felt him harden under her feather light touch.
"Well, it's like riding a bike; once you learn you never forget, but the more you ride the better you become."
"I always lose my balance on a bike."
"Not on this machine you wouldn't," he assured her and traced the curve of her breasts with his finger.
The thought of him penetrating her with his thick endowment excited and frightened her in equal measure, and she closed her eyes and parted her legs for his hand to wander beneath her navy blue skirt. His fingers traced the outline of her pale blue panties and danced over her crotch, tickling the delicate fuzz around her sex. She tightened her grip on his shaft and felt it throb in her hand as they slid closer, kissing passionately, tongues writhing amidst a hot mist of panting breath.
"I'll do it," she panted and pulled his hand from her snow-white blouse.
Enoch kept a beady eye on her nimble fingers undoing the tiny buttons and refilled the bowl, pursing his lips with approval at the sight of her firm breasts. He placed the bong on the floor and held the long tube up to his lips, toking deep on the potent drug before offering it to her.
"That's far enough," he said and stopped her from removing her tie, "we got plenty o' time."
Sharon leant forward and sucked hard on the tube, her shoulder length blonde hair falling forward to curtain her pretty face from sight, almost disappearing again within a plume of smoke. She felt him pull her blouse from the back of her skirt and run his hand up her back making her shiver with pleasure, his fingers expertly picking the hooks off her bra. That was another thing she liked about him; he never fumbled or fussed, unlike the eager inexperience of boys her age.
"Put some music on, babes," she said and stood up, "I want to dance."
Enoch smiled at the suggestion and slipped a Madonna cd into his pc, and watched her fluently bump and grind to the sultry tune of 'Erotica'. Madonna could put him into a trance anytime and Sharon did her best; swaying from side to side, flicking her skirt up to reveal the tight triangle between her taut thighs; swirling around to show him flashes of flesh and bending over to give him an unhindered view of her pert buttocks, wiggling them up and down over his erection without quite touching him; turning round swiftly and sinking to her knees, flicking her tongue like a whip at the head of his cock, her hot breath making him twitch with expectation. She knelt over the bong and took the tube in her hand, and ran it between her legs with a low moan, rubbing the mouth-piece onto her mons and pushing it into her panties, bobbing up and down on it with her gaze fixed firmly on his cock. Her tongue slid slowly along her lips and she watched him stroke the object of her desire, wondering again how it would feel inside the unexplored depths of her body. The fantasy brought a surge of heat to her pussy and she pushed harder on the tube, taking it a little way inside and making her clit tingle with delight.
"Give it to me," Enoch demanded and snatched the tube from her hot little hand.
He held it in his mouth, tasting her smell, and quickly loaded the bowl for a big hit, sucking the heady mixture of her aroma and the weed into his lungs without taking his eyes from her lewd display.
"Do you like it?" Sharon breathed. "Does it taste good?"
Her hand delved into the moist cotton and found the nub of her desire. She gave him a sly glance and pinched her pink nipple, feeling her heat respond to the expression on his face.
"Tastes sweet; like candy," he said and took another toke.
She blushed coyly and spun around to twitch her cheeks at him, pulling her panties up and down to give him a flash of her smooth skin.
"Looks good; tastes good ..." she giggled.
"... and by golly it
is
good!" He said, and pulled her into an inescapable embrace.
Sharon squawked in surprise and laughed uproariously at his tickling fingers seeking out her soft spots. She kicked her legs in the air and looked down at his engorged shaft jutting between her thighs like a chocolate log between two blocks of vanilla. Her giggles became uncontrollable at the sight and his hands seemed to be everywhere at once; on her breasts, pulling them firmly to attention; on her stomach, and delving between her thighs; pulling her panties up into the wet slit, tight against her clit; pinching and rubbing her thighs, pushing them together to rub his meaty shaft up and down.
"No! Ouch! Stop!" She squealed and kicked harder without hope or desire for escape.
"You're a hot little tease," Enoch panted in her ear. "I ought to spank you!"
Sharon felt a thrill run through her body but played her part to the hilt. "Oh, no! I'll be good." She simpered and squirmed on his hot shaft.
"Oh, I know you'll be good," he said and squeezed her breasts together.
"What's that meant to ..." she said and turned her head, unable to complete the question for his lips crushed hers in a long, breathless kiss.
Her struggles subsided with a moan of compliance and she sucked hard on his probing tongue, gathering all the moisture she could to help her do what he wanted. She'd though about little else all day and looked forward to the moment she could wrap her lips around something thicker and hotter than his tongue. From the day she'd watched his impressive frame stride up the path to her house and plant two bottles of gold-top on the step, her thoughts had been less than pure and at the first chance had asked him:
"Is it true what they say about black guys?"
"That depends on what they say." Enoch had replied, his eyes boldly wandering over her.
She returned his stare and said; "That their cocks are bigger than white guys."
He'd grinned and left her to wonder until the day she took matters into her own hands and found out where he lived, turning up at his door after school. Despite his protests she had left him no choice but to let her in; the unmistakable smell of marijuana leaving him no room to maneuver her away. That had been a day of firsts; her first taste of weed and her first glimpse of his virile manhood: both had taken her breath away. Her precociousness had seemed to annoy him at first then amuse him in equal measure, and he'd been proud to show off his most prized possession to such an ardent, and resourceful, admirer. From that day, the boys in The Village stood no chance of gaining her favours and she masturbated regularly to the vision of Enoch's big black cock without giving in to the temptation of surrendering her virginity to him, though she'd take him in her mouth without batting her curly eyelashes. The taboo combination of illicit sex and illegal drug provided her with more excitement than anything this sleepy hamlet could ever provide and the more she saw of him the harder it became to resist; and as she neared her sixteenth birthday realised he might be the one to pluck her cherry.
Sharon could feel herself melting in his arms now and felt him slide along her slit in a spine tingling rhythm that made her weak at the knees; his voice lulling her into temptation.
"Rub it on your pussy," Enoch whispered and tweaked her nipples into exquisite awareness. "That's it baby, put it on your clit and wank it," he urged as her hand encircled his shaft and rubbed it into her mound. "Come on; yeah, right there, cum on my cock!"
This was the closest she'd ever got to having him inside her and she moaned, panted and writhed on him with only a thin layer of cotton between her fantasy and the hard reality. She could feel him pushing against the flimsy barrier and opening her legs with his knees, and she almost succumbed to his tender entreaty but found a reserve of defiance before he could go any further and wrenched herself aside at the last moment.
Enoch laughed to cover his frustration and turned her over onto his lap, pulled her panties down to expose the soft swell of her peachy cheeks and smacked them briskly.
"You hot little cock-tease," he said. "Your mouth says 'no', but your eyes say 'please.'"
"Ow! No! (Oh, yes!) Stop, stop! (harder, harder!) Please don't; I'm a good girl, I am!" Sharon protested without conviction and wriggled on the hard length.
Pain and pleasure came very close together in her experience: her first orgasm coming after a hard spanking from her father for some forgotten misdemeanor at the age of eleven. She had felt him harden beneath her without realising what it was but relished the warm glow spread through her loins and blossom into a hot, liquid sensation. Her temperament demanded more and she found ways and means to receive regular chastisement from her father's hand (and had heard him relive his tension in time honoured fashion on more than one occasion afterwards) without going any further for the simple reason that her father refused to submit to her obvious temptation in any way - but Enoch was different; His hands beat down faster, pressing her onto him and turning her soft flesh a bright, glowing red.
"Don't give me that," Enoch said and thrust his hand between her legs to feel the moist gusset of her panties. "You're a bad girl, a very bad girl. I can feel you're enjoying this too much to be good."
"But I
am
a good girl," she insisted. "I am; let me go and I'll prove it to you!"
"Prove it? How?" Enoch said and bit into her rosy cheek like a ripe apple.
