Between the Races

I met Maleeka at an art show my friend Tony dragged
me to last week. Art and I don’t normally mix, but I
owed Tony a favor and a ride to the show was going to
be it. Bunch of paintings on the wall; that’s all I
can tell you. The show was in a community center in a
pretty rough neighborhood. All the artists were local
people showing off what ever talent they may have
had. Tony had walked away from me to whatever he came
there for, so I wandered around looking at the stuff,
trying to figure out what was good and what was bad.
I’ll be damned if I knew.

One particularly grim canvas did catch my eye. It
depicted a very abstract black woman doing something
to a very abstract white guy. It may have been sexual
or may have not. I stood there a few minutes puzzling
over what I was seeing, when I felt someone standing
next to me.

“Do you like it?” a husky woman’s voice asked. I
turned and found myself facing a tall, extremely
black woman. I mean she was dark. Not too many slave
owners in her ancestry. The ceiling lights glistened
off her skin. She wore a sort of halter top, but it
was different, very non-European. Her tits were
enormous and a deep, shadowy cleavage drew my eyes.

“Well, uh, I think that, ah, this painting shows,
ah…” I fumbled for words as I shamelessly stared at
the ebony roundness of those tribal boobs. That chest
of hers silently shouted sexuality. I was absolutely
mesmerized by it, compelling me to stare. Eventually,
sensing that I was making a fool of myself, I said,”
the essence of man’s inhumanity to man. That’s it,
that’s what its about.”

She laughed.

“You silly man,” she said while she rolled her eyes
“that’s the poorest excuse for art criticism I’ve
ever heard. How did you ever come up with that non-
sense?”

Gleaming white teeth showed through full, dark lips
as she grinned at me. I felt like an idiot for trying
to fool her, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“My name’s Maleeka,” she told me. “My mother made
it up. I suppose you have an ordinary white name?”
She said this without rancor, like it was almost a
joke.

“Ah, yeah. I’m Jerry. Pleased to meet you.”

“Seriously, Jerry, what did you think of the paint-
ing?” Her interest was so strong I caught on pretty
quickly that she had painted it. I teased her about
fooling me this time and we laughed some more. It was
evident that we were getting along very well, so I
asked her if she’d like to get a cup of coffee or
something.

“I live nearby,” she told me. “Right in my studio.
I’d like it very much if we went there. I think it
would be fun to be together.”

Was I about to get laid? Fuck Tony. We left for her
place.

Her apartment was in the attic of an old Victorian
house that had seen better days. Still, the light was
good for painting and she had the place decorated
with a certain African flair. She invited me to sit
on the couch while she went to put on some coffee.
When Maleeka came back out of the kitchen, I noticed
that her top was a little more open. She sat down on
the couch next to me. I felt that old familiar stirr-
ing in my loins. She surprised me by leaning over and
giving me a wet tongue kiss.

“I’m a very aggressive woman when I want to be,”
she said, licking her lips. “When I really want some-
thing a lot.”

I believed her, really. My dick was springing to
attention in the folds of my underwear. I kissed her
back, sticking my tongue in deep. Her lips were so
much fuller than any white woman I had ever known. I
sucked the bottom one into my mouth and ran my tongue
along it. She shuddered with pleasure. We hugged hard
as we continued to make out. Her chest pressed into
mine and some bead work on her top hurt me as the
force of our hug brought us closer. I told her it was
uncomfortable, so Maleeka very considerately sug-
gested that she take off her top. I could help if I
wanted to. So I did.

She guided my fingers to the intricate catches on
the garment, at the same time mashing my hands into
those big, dark globes. They were quite solid for
ones that big. I quickly took control of the breasts
massaging, wanting to give her everything I had in
the mammary manipulation department.

I soon got her top off and had her half naked. As we
kissed, I took one huge, hard breast in my hand and
stroked it as lightly as I could, paying special
attention to the sides. Women like that. I’ve dis-
covered in my years of tit play.

Then I leaned in and used my mouth to worship at
the altar of her nipples. Maleeka moaned from my
sucking. Her responsiveness to my nursing made me
feel good because she was so attractive that she’d
probably had all sorts of studly guys glomming onto
her tits. At least she was getting pleasure from what
little ol’ me was doing.

Her hands weren’t idle either, having been busy re-
lieving my prick of it’s uncomfortable position in my
pants while the tit sucking was going on. When she
had it all the way out, Maleeka stroked my pecker up
and down like she’d been born giving hand jobs. It
was almost too much.

“Maleeka, darling, keep that up and I’ll have an
accident,” I warned her. She didn’t stop.

“Well, Jerry, my new friend, maybe you’ll have this
‘accident’ right on me. I’d like that.” She bent in
and brushed her tits against my dick. The sensation
of the ebony nipples on my knob was indescribable. An
electric shock went up my spine.

“I want you to do something for me.” Her tone was
halfway between a command and a request.

“Sure,” I answered. Anything short of murder, I’d
do it for her. Just let me cum, please.

She got up off the couch and took me by the hand to
the bed in the corner of the studio. More of a sleep-
ing mat, actually. It didn’t look very comfortable
but she assured me it was.

“And you’re going to have fun on it, too.”

Now like I said, this girl was tall. She knelt down
on the bed, then maneuvered me directly in front of
her. Because of her height, I only had to crouch a
little to get my boner in between those boobs. Yep,
that’s what she wanted me to do: this was going to be
a tit-fuck party. I brought the cock and she brought
the tits.

“Do you like this?,” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “But it`s a little dry in there.” I
wanted her to get some sort of lube onto those casaba
melons before this went too far. Maleeka didn’t dis-
appoint me. On the little carved wood night table
next to the bed was a small bottle of something. She
picked it up and rubbed it into her chest. Maleeka
was a pro at this, like I expected.

“It’s from Africa. The natives use it for anal sex,
but it’s also perfect for this.” She used two hands
to swirl the slimy liquid around. She obviously loved
touching herself. I didn’t mind watching; the sight
made my boner all the more eager for what was to
come.

She recapped the bottle and assumed the position
again. I put my dick back between those twin beauties
and she pushed them closed with her hands.

It was a lot better this time. The oil made her
titflesh into the smoothest possible container for me
to get off in. I pumped my rod up and down. It slid
like a skate on ice. Seeing the white tip poke up re-
peatedly from between those black mounds excited me
unbelievably. Her, too, evidently. She stared down at
my cock, her eyes riveted to it.

“Come on, white boy,” she moaned, “fuck my big,
black titties. Shoot that cream all over them. Look
how black they are. Your pale white dick is fucking
them so good. Make me wet. Cover my titties with your
white cum.”

Heat, That’s what I remember most about that day.
The heat of her flesh against my cock. With the oil,
friction was at a minimum and it was the actual
warmth of the flesh that was heating my pecker to a
boil. Faster and faster I moved my ass up and down. I
wanted to come. I wanted to spurt my jizz all over
her and she wanted it, too.

I began my final bucking, almost ready to blow. The
pink tip of my dick appeared and disappeared between
her dark tits with amazing speed. I felt my load com-
ing and I couldn’t, wouldn’t hold back. With a grunt
I shot. The cum blasted out my cock onto her face,
her chin, her neck and her tits. I couldn’t believe
how much juice I was giving her. The excitement of
being between those chocolate mounds had been too
much.

Finally, it was over and I collapsed onto the bed.
Looking up I saw her rubbing the jism into her skin,
carefully, trying to cover as much area as possible.
Maleeka was a cum junkie extraordinaire by the way
she savored my seed as her holy unguent.

“Oh, Jerry, that was wonderful. Thank you for giv-
ing me so much cum for my complexion. That was won-
derful of you.”

“It was nothing,” I told her. “I’ll do it anytime
you want.”

She was quite an amazing woman, and we had many
more encounters over the next few months. I think we
tried every variation there is. But finally this
beautiful creature became bored with me, and found
herself another man. I think he was Chinese.

Lucky bastered.

Leave a Reply