Her velvety, black skin cast a magical spell over me
[After the couple who lived in the apartment opposite moved out, the new occupant was Mrs. Narimana, a pretty African woman from Zanzibar, barely thirty years old and apparently separated from her husband, with her young daughter. From then on, I made every effort to be reserved when I wanted to act out my needs and not disturb the new residents with obscene noises.
When the West African woman moved in, I asked her once, as the door to her apartment was open, if she was getting on well and took a look in her kitchen. She walked in front of me and I definitely noticed her slender figure and well-groomed legs under her short skirt, because it was summer. She also showed an engaging, sympathetic smile at each of the rather rare encounters.
The African woman was as sweet as the sugar she asked for
One day she asked me for sugar because she wanted to bake something but didn’t have any in the apartment. I gave her a packet, but this was probably just an opportunity for her to talk to me about something else. She put her arms at her sides and asked me emphatically to be a little more careful with the noises and sounds I made that were clearly audible in her apartment because of her daughter. It meant that she must have heard me a few times, despite all the caution in my masturbation, which was stimulated exclusively by explicit model photos and reading the erotic stories in the erotic magazine Eronite.
“Please be a little quieter,” she said, not without blushing, “even if you live alone. You must feel very lonely sometimes if you have to use your ‘girlfriend’s hand’ so often. You know…” She smiled a little mischievously and added: “Surely you stroke yourself because you get excited by pictures of beautiful naked women, don’t you? All you have to do is move your foreskin back and forth, don’t you? Many men do this on a regular basis. Uh, if you ever need help with that, let me know when you get a chance. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I live without a man, but in my circle of friends, uh, as far as men are concerned, many have already gotten to know my gentle hand, because I’m quite curious, since I’ve been separated, about what they wear under their briefs…”
My mouth was open in disbelief and she acknowledged this with a laugh, but suddenly turned bright red and disappeared into her apartment with a serious expression on her face. Of course, from then on I dreamed of the sexy African woman every night, which should go without saying.
She entered my apartment and was very shy
A few days after this conversation, I bumped into her in the corridor in the afternoon after work and she looked at me meaningfully and with a somewhat mocking look in her eyes: “My daughter Nina is still with a friend from kindergarten. By the way, I heard you behind the door again this morning. You were scrubbing at something and moaning so loudly, weren’t you feeling well?” she asked in a suggestive tone. She put her half-naked arms together on her back and swayed her hips.
“Can I come in for a moment?” she asked sheepishly as I unlocked the door to my apartment. “Of course,” I said and my mouth went dry. I asked her if she wanted to have a coffee with me, to which she replied, “with a little sugar please, but no milk.”
We sat down in the living room, me on the armchair at the head of the table, the African woman on the sofa next to it. I devoured her with my gaze, which she noticed and seemed to like. Suddenly, she started stroking my lap as we exchanged a few words. I winced and my breeches began to bulge.
“Oooh, what’s this here, a little swelling, shall we have a look?” she asked a little smugly. Then she actually opened the fly of my pants, pulled my briefs down a little and my member grew rapidly towards her. “Uh!” she exclaimed, almost startled, “he’s nice and big, your best friend, hihi” Then she lightly dabbed the tip of my stiff cock with two fingers of her right hand, which stretched upwards again at this touch.
She now began to move up and down my trunk in delicate movements that could only be felt like a breath on my skin, smiling with a mixture of curiosity, concentration on her pleasurable activity and a little contempt, because I was quite a few years older than her and perhaps a little perverted in her eyes.
Suddenly she unabashedly jerked my hardening cock
“What do you particularly like in women?” she asked as she jerked my member more vigorously, which made me groan, and then slowed down the pace of her handiwork again.
“Well, I really like it when she wears open shoes at the back, like mules or mules, and I can see her bare heel,” I said, almost stuttering. “So that’s who you are,” she said with a mock indignant tone. “I’ll see where I have shoes like these to give you a little visual boost, Mr. Neighbour, when we next meet for coffee.” She now took both hands and ran the palms up and down my hard-on. I enjoyed it and closed my eyes for a moment.
It was wonderful that the African woman looked at my phallus the whole time like a symbol of cult worship and worked it in every conceivable way. After minutes of what felt like a blissful eternity of pleasure, when she tightened my foreskin from the very base of my penis, I felt that it couldn’t take much longer and indeed the sperm shot out of me after just a few seconds and covered her top from top to bottom. “Uhhh! That was a shot, dear neighbor, and it won’t stop. Wow! My top’s going in the wash for now!”
In a wickedly whispering voice, she asked how I had felt her touch and I could only stammer and confirm that she had satisfied me in a wonderful way, even though she had not exposed her breast during the act.
Her experienced hands and the sexy mules made my blood boil
“I’ll be happy to show you more next time,” she followed up and told me at the beginning of our next, again almost accidental meeting, which became intimate in the same way, that her friends loved her strokes and she brought her limbs to enormous size every time, which the dark-skinned African woman seemed to be quite proud of. Sometimes they also jerk off two at the same time. “It’s wonderful when I hear one of them grunting with pleasure from the left and the other from the right while my little hand works their cocks. And it’s even better when they squirt their semen on my breasts almost simultaneously, I love that!”
Read also:
➤ Sex story: The black chambermaid
➤ That’s why so many men like black tits
➤ South Africa: highs and lows of mixed relationships
➤ Sex story: The shameless whore and the African
➤ Sextoy test: the giant black dildo “Dong with Testicles”
At the second meeting in my apartment, she finally stretched her beautiful breasts towards me at the table, giggling, and her stiff nipples occasionally brushed my bulging, swollen glans, while I sighed, not without getting pathetic: “Oh yes, Mrs. Narimana, do it to me, let me feel the itching sensation on my penis to the extreme, pull my flower with your experienced hand as you are doing now, while you let me feel your naked body and your Let your feet be seen in the sexy mules. Oh yes, until I bubble over with lust, ah, it feels so good! And may I splash your breasts?”
She just nodded, absorbed in her busy handiwork, and a few minutes later all my white juice, held back for so long, shot over the black African woman’s protruding breasts.
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