FiveSome part 2

Five some (part 2)

A thunderstorm had caught me off guard while I was out in the open pushing my two children in a baby stroller, so I was glad to duck out of the heavy storm into the first doorway I could find. It was an old established art museum, but the sounds inside were surprisingly modern.

“Would you look at that fucking pencil dick,” a young gravelly voice laughed out loud. I could tell from his street tones that he and his friends were all black and very male. “Shit, if I looked that small and sad, I wouldn’t let no painter put it in no picture.”

It was an exhibit of Nicolas Poussin’s Renaissance oil painting of “Midas and Bacchus,” painted on canvas in 1625, and on loan from the Pinakothek collection in Munich. And the lads were right. The guy in the painting did have a pencil dick.

“Nicolas Pissin–” one of the others said. “Yeah, that’s about all that dick’s good for is pissing.”

“Little saint Nick and his little saint dick.”

“No wonder all the other paintings have little robes and cloths dropped over their cocks,” another young black man said. “They’re too embarrassed to show what they got.”

“More like what they ain’t got.”

More laughter.

“Looking at things like that you gotta wonder why there’s so many white people.”

“Oh that’s easy,” the gravelly voiced young man answered. “‘Cause their women are so easy to find in the dark.”

A long collective groan of snickers filled the air. I had just stepped around the corner, and I couldn’t help myself. I laughed out loud. Naturally that garnered their attention.

“Whoa, hey mama! Did you think that was funny?” a smooth faced adolescent asked me.

“I’m only laughing because it’s true,” I replied. “My two men have no trouble finding me in the night. But I have to reach out and feel for them in the darkness.”

“You got two men?”

I nodded. I stooped down and rolled back the mini-tarp that kept Darcie and Kane Michael’s stroller covered up from the rain. The four young black men let their jaws drop at the sight of my children.

“Are both your men black like these two babies?”

“That’s why my guys are so difficult for me to find in the dark,” I added.

“Oh man, oh man, oh man!” All four of them crowded around the carriage to examine my two little mixed blood riders. I could see the wheels turning in four different heads as they looked down at the babies features and then looked up at mine.

“There’s no way you’d ever have any difficulty finding me in the dark,” the leader said. “Just follow the long handle.”

The others laughed again.

Darcie smiled. Like both her mother, Shaleen, and I, Darcie loved the attention she got from men. But Kane was fussy from being out in the rain and wet. So I gently picked him up from the stroller and cradled him in my arms, while I helped Darcie to climb out as well. Once Darcie was out, I found a bench to sit down on and checked my son’s diaper. Not too bad, really. But he shoved his fist into his mouth and I knew he wanted to be nursed.

Well, one thing for certain, I knew this particular crowd wouldn’t mind at all if some white woman breast fed her biracial baby here inside the museum, and so I settled onto the bench, slipped my jacket open, and plopped out one milk engorged pale boob.

Four overgrown adolescent males were even more thrilled with that than my hungry little infant boy. But Kane Michael claimed first rights to my brownish pink nipple.

The group of them continued to ask me questions about my guys and my kids. I sketchily filled them in on my schedule and how my guys have to work nights.

“In fact I have to go home to wake them up pretty soon,” I finished. “And one or both will be more than ready for a wake-up fuck.”

Again a long impressive moan from the crowd issued forth.

“Do you all sleep in the same bed?” the smooth faced one asked.

I smiled and nodded. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I could tell that they wanted to ask me for my number so that they might have the opportunity to fuck some forty year old white woman as well, but I wasn’t quite in the mood for such games at the moment.

Finally the storm stopped, and I rounded up my wandering granddaughter, put both her and Kane back into the stroller and started to leave.

“Wait!” the gravelly voiced young man shouted. “Take this.”

He handed me a piece of museum note paper with a phone number and a name written on it. I smiled. First I folded the paper in half and stuffed it down into my nursing bra. Then I put my hand out to his cheek and brought my lips close to kiss him. His other buddies began a chorus of “Oooo’s” as my lips touched his.

“Someday I’ll call,” I whispered.

I think by the darkening of his skin, that he actually blushed more than I did.


I nodded. “Really.”


Part Two: Five In One Bedroom.

Now, my bedroom is crowded. Very crowded.

There is the big crib on one side which holds my granddaughter, Darcie, and the smaller cradle in the corner where my son, Kane Michael sleeps. Desmond Emmons, both children’s father, is most frequently found on the left edge of the king sized bed in the middle of the room, while is best friend, R.J. Tolliver is found on the right side.

That leaves the middle of the big bed for me to sleep or to try to sleep.

Often I have been awakened to two softly snoring men pushing against me in the middle of the morning and three or four hands clutching at various body parts while I try to sleep. And of course I’ve encountered two “morning erections” at full attention. I’ve never had so much affection and loving attention in my entire life as I do these days.

My neighborhood friends have pretty much stopped speaking to me, but I honestly don’t miss them very much. Apparently a forty year old white woman has no business letting two black ex-convicts–one thirty-one and the other twenty-four live inside her home in a decent neighborhood like ours used to be.

“God only knows what those people do in that house.”

Yeah, they might sleep five people in one bedroom.

Now the fact is that my guys are both young, vigorous, and horny enough to engage in daily fucking marathons even if they weren’t hellbent for a race to see who gets me up-the-spout again. That’s Brit slang for pregnant. So far–well they’re content to keep trying.

Des takes his daughter Darcie to visit her mother, Shaleen, on visiting days at the correctional facility. My daughter is doing a minimum of four years for a mandatory drug sentence. That’s the reason I got custody of her daughter, Darcie, in the first place. That’s also the reason Darcie’s father came to see her at my place. Circumstances lead to my allowing Des to cum inside of me, and that’s a big part of the reason Des never left my home.

Shaleen still resents me having Des’s baby. She thinks I betrayed her and Darcie, but my granddaughter loves her little baby brother, Kane Michael.

“Christ, mother!” she screamed at me over the phone. “How could you do this? How can he be Darcie’s half-brother and my half-brother as well? That’s just sick!”

But lately, she and Des have put their relationship on the mend. She really won’t have any place else to go when she finally gets out, but here to our home. I think she just wants to vent about what how she feels about what happened between the man who fathered her baby and her own mother’s baby as well.

I spend a lot of time with R.J. when I can. He and Des are surprisingly loving–even gentle lovers when they want to be–and I reciprocate in as many ways as I can.

Like I said before, a day doesn’t go by where I don’t fuck one, the other, or both. Now with the race to make a new baby going full out, I find myself with my panties removed or pushed aside and a long thick black cock driving in and out like an old piston engine several times a day. Needless to say, I’ve enjoyed a lot of raw sperm over the past weeks. I imagine there’s a long queue of sperm cells lined up for a chance to fulfill their mission inside a forty year old white lady’s womb.

It can’t last forever. One day I’ll wake up and find that I’ve missed a period and that my breasts are tender, or maybe I’ll feel a bit queasy.

My days have been flying by in a daze.

Yesterday, I came home from work tired and sweaty and not looking forward to cooking and taking care of two children let alone two hungry black lovers, but Des smiled and told me that Kane was fast asleep and he had Darcie under control for the moment; so, why didn’t I go upstairs to shower. I couldn’t argue with logic like that.

I stripped down to shower and turned the water on to adjust the heat. A hand softly nudged my ass and a warm low voice murmured behind me.

“Lord, what a beautiful sight to see,” R.J. said, as he bent down to kiss the cheek of my ass. “I can’t tell you how thankful I am that you’re such a huge part of my life.”

“I think you saw me at my ‘hugest!'” I said laughing. “Just before Kane was born.”

“He was a big boy,” R.J. turned me around to face him. He too was naked with his flagpole rising to full staff as he brought me close against him. “But you were the important one.”

“Toll, stop! I need to shower.”

“I want to scrub your back.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, okay,” I sighed. “Come on in.”

“Believe me I intend to do just that.” He smiled.

He washed my back, breasts, arms, shoulders, and more with the same intensity that he would later use to caress my skin or to finger my pussy. We were all soap and fragrance, all touch and shivers, all kisses and sharing.

I dropped to my knees and put my hands and then my lips on his cock during our shower, but he stopped me after about five minutes of some very hard and continuous oral sex. We threw a couple of soft bath towels onto the bathroom floor, and R.J. took me right there. I couldn’t help myself anymore. He was just so amazing.

“I’d like to have a daughter,” he whispered. “Will you do that for me?”

“Tolliver, stop!” I don’t think I sounded very convincing.

“She should look just like you. Soft and luscious–”

I don’t think he was sure just how I’d respond to his statement. But I squirmed under him and moaned. As it turned out, Toll climaxed immediately–Bang! Just like that, and the strangest thing happened.

My body usually relaxes and allows the flowback to dribble out afterwards. This time there was a little ripple of the tiny muscles on my left side and my body tugged and pulled everything to that side. I figured it was just nerves, until I realized that I’d hardly lost one iota of R.J.’s semen over the last few minutes. Whew! I’ve had that happen to me before. It often signaled a major, major change with me. But I couldn’t tell him that.

Who was I kidding? I knew in my heart of hearts that R.J. had suddenly done what both my guys had been trying to do for weeks, and in a couple of weeks I’d have to go buy one of those home pregnancy tests.

Just the thought of being made pregnant by R.J. caused me to climax under him. A huge shuddering climax!

I think something deep inside both of us knew what had happened.

He raised his head up and smiled at me. “If I’d known that was all it took, I’d have taken you on the lav floor a long, long time ago.”


Part Three: Nothing Between Us.

There was nothing between us.

That’s something I might’ve tried to say to Jarrad’s mother or to either of my two guys Des and R.J.: “There isn’t anything between us.”

But that wouldn’t be what I meant.

There was nothing between Jarrad and me, as in the two of us were about to have unprotected sex.

I suppose it’s pretty much a kink of mine. I haven’t asked for protection during sexual intercourse for close to two years now. I’ve been lucky. I’ve gone disease free so far, and I’ve been able to get pregnant only when I want to be pregnant–which is just about any time I think about it–so, yes, I’ve been lucky.

I discovered that the gravelly voiced young man who gave me his number in the art museum and called himself Jarrad is actually named Jawad–a name given to him by his Pakistani mother. She too has something in common with me as a moderately dark skinned Moslem woman from Pakistan, she conceived her baby boy some nineteen years ago with a Christian lover–an older African man–a very Black Sudanese man who was a dear old friend of her family.

Yes, after thinking about him for weeks, I’d called this young man to ask him if he remembered me. Jarrad said he remembered me quite well. I asked him if he wanted to meet–just the two of us, only the two of us, no mates and no kids, and he said he very much wanted to meet with me–and so we met.

He’s such a beautiful blend of colors–deep brown skin and yet a violet tinge to the color of his eyes-that I knew right away I couldn’t just leave him alone.

I mean, I couldn’t just go on with my life without knowing more about him–a lot more. We walked about and talked softly to each other as if I were his teacher or some matronly authority figure in his life instead of some crazy lady who wanted to fuck him.

He told me all about his mother–how she had him when she was only fifteen back in Karachi. I wanted him badly. But, I could tell by the way he spoke to me that his mother was my age or, God forbid, younger than me. That’s all my ego needed was Jawad’s mother accusing me of being a cradle snatcher.

Anyway, it was this young man, Jawad, who I’d allowed such privileged time playing with my cunt as we hid under the corner stairwell off the causeway of an old, old office building. He’d hiked my skirt up to discover that I’d worn no knickers–no underwear at all. So I was extremely vulnerable to a black finger plying right up between my labs–that’s Brit slang for pussy lips by the way.

I was being fingered by a young man I didn’t really know.

Not that it mattered. When I’d been married all those years back, I’d had my one white husband/lover like any good girl from my generation. Now as I looked at the “boy” next to me, I knew his would be the fourth black dick I’d let inside my white pussy in less than two years. I also knew we’d fuck more than once, and, of course, we’d probably fuck unprotected.

We dropped to the floor under that stairwell. Jarrad pushed his pants down and exposed a hell of a black stonker–street talk for an impressive looking large erection.

“Ohhh…God!” Jarrad murmured as his big black cock sunk slowly into my own open loins. “God is good! Allah Akbar as me mum’s family would say. I can’t believe me fuck buddy’s a grandmother.”

“Hey,” I chided him. “None o’ that.” I think I was most angry about the fact that he was telling the truth. Were we just “fuck buddies”–all sex and no commitment. “You don’t talk like that to the woman who’s letting you slip into her body.”

“Sorry, Thea.” Then he grunted in excitement.

“Apology accepted.” Christ, did he feel good. We had fantastic chemistry going on, I thought. Shit, even I couldn’t believe my fuck buddy was probably as young as my daughter.

Stop that! No more thinking like that. No more…just enjoy. Just enjoy, I told my self Just enj–

I came. I writhed in a long shuddering orgasm, moaning softly in his ear, washing his cock with the soaking lotions of my vagina while I came all over his erected black stonker.

Then Jawad ejaculated. Cumming like crazy, my young man started to spray me inside like the spigot of a naturally strong faucet turned on full. God, did he ever cum.

“Christ,” I said. “Bet you think I’m some kind o’ spunk bucket.”

“Not at all,” he whispered. I think you’re nothing short of wonderful. A man could easily fall in love with a woman like you. Your blokes are damn lucky.”

I could sense his semen flowing out through my labs. “They’re not the only ones who are lucky,” I replied. “Some young grannies have gotten lucky too.”

“Shh,” he said grinning. “No need to use that word. You’re only as old as you feel. And from my point of view, Thea, you feel like heaven.”

“How old is heaven?” I asked grinning back.

“Mmmm? Just about your age, I’d wager.”

What a lovely liar. Lovely, loving liar.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Can we do this again?”

“Oh, yes,” I purred into his ear. “Any time.”

“You mean like right now?”

I could feel Jawad getting hard inside my cunt once again, and I grinned. “Why not?”

How old is heaven? Maybe the real question is how young is heaven.

A Twenty-One Cock Salute

All right, so I really didn’t receive a twenty-one cock salute that Friday, but I thought I came pretty damn close by the time my day had finished.

Let’s start with my wake up call at around six in the morning. First, both my guys dragged home from work around this time. They were pretty fagged out from a tough night of lifting and hefting heavy steel components needed to build a new assembly machine in the main engineering factory.

A very tired Des fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. But a rather sweaty R.J. touched me on the cheek, put his finger to his mouth to tell me to keep quiet, and then led me quietly downstairs where we landed on the sofa.

“Take your gown off, Thea,” he ordered. Then he proceeded to undress in record time himself.

I sighed that I was pretty dry what with the possible changes which might be going through my body at the moment, but R.J. just smiled. Like a magician doing a coin trick, he produced a small tube of lubricant.

“Let’s try this,” he whispered.

I watched as R.J. took hold of the small tube of water based jelly and slowly squeezed out a large glob of clear gel onto the tips of his black fingers. Then those dark fingers dropped out of sight hidden by the flesh of my thighs. Suddenly, the shocking cold lubricant oozed a chilling trail across the delicate tissue of my swelling labial lips. Cold! Oh, but very wickedly exciting. Seconds later his wet, emboldened fingers slipped gently between the opening of my loins so that he could smear my inner tissues with the cool wet gelatin.

Now that was coldly delicious. I purred a small throaty moan.

“Tell me something,” he murmured as he continued to take his time fingering my pussy with those marvelous caresses. “Do you really think you might be pregnant?”

“Mmm-hmm,” I answered, nodding my head. “Probably.”

“Really? Do you think the baby’s mine?”

“Could very well be,” I said. “You certainly shot enough of your busy boys into my body to make a strong run at fathering this child.”

Speaking of fathering, R.J. followed up his sticky lubricated fingers with a large, thick naked substitute located right at his midsection. “But, do you think she’s mine?”

“How do you know she’s a she?” I grinned as his long, hard, masculine presence graced my loins totally bareback.

“If she’s mine, she’s a she.”

“No other possibilities?”

“Well, not tonight.” Then, after just moments, R.J. Tolliver grunted and came. Hard–very hard.

I exhaled a soft sob into his ear. “You were certainly ready.”

“I’ve thought about you all night.”

“I can tell.” I could feel the wetness packed like so much lotion flowing inward and seeping outward from my stretched cunt. What a fabulous moment, I thought selfishly. What a fabulous–

Then softly my body came under Toll’s. Whew, was that lovely! And messy. Funny how sex means absolutely nothing when it’s just clean and contained. For me, I needed to experience the sticky thrill of semen pumping into my unprotected vagina for my own enjoyment to flow fully. Yeah, that’s my little kink, I guess.

I put R.J. to bed, and he dropped off next to my other sleeping beauty, Desmond. I showered and packed up the children to get them out of the house for a while. Both Darcie and Kane were in pretty good moods as we strolled down toward the business district.

I couldn’t believe it, a familiar figure stepped out in front of me. A handsomely dark young man entered the street as I approached the commercial district. I called out to him.

(to bee continued)