Good for Something

Yes, I can confirm that you can fall madly in love with someone you've never even spoken with. I'd seen Kelly around but never actually talked to her. I didn't know any of her friends directly either. Some of my friends hung out with some of her friends every now and then, and I'd overheard her name mentioned in passing, but that was it. Though I could never take my eyes off her whenever I saw her.

She's black, beautiful and hot as fuck. Me, I'm white, reasonably handsome I guess, and desperately in love with her. I was twenty two at the time, she was about the same age, possibly a little older. I finally mustered the courage to speak to her one night at a party. Some rich kid's house while his parents were away. A big old country manor on the outskirts of town.

The party swelled and ebbed and flowed through the house and out across the gardens in the warm summer night. I'd broken off from the friends I went with and was just wandering around, a little tipsy, smiling to myself, dancing, enjoying watching people enjoying themselves.

When my beer was finished I went searching for my mate who had our beers. Couldn't spot him in the back garden where I'd left him so I went inside. Everywhere was packed, and I couldn't see him.

I went down a hallway towards what looked like a separate wing of the house when I saw Kelly walking along the finely decorated corridor towards me. We both came to a halt at the same time, either side of a snogging couple who were nearly blocking the width of the narrow corridor. She looked incredible in a black sparkly blouse and tight blue jeans and black heels. We both waited to see who would go around them first. I knew it was an opportunity. I decided to take it. I waved her to come through first and as she came by me, with my heart in my mouth, I took the leap and said hi.

"Hello," she responded cautiously.

I felt I had to offer an explanation. "I think black girls are beautiful," I said, like a total fucking moron. WTF?

"Well," she said, frowning and sneering in disbelief, evidently perplexed and amused at the same time, "I don't know what white boys is good for really."

I shrugged dejectedly and stared at the ground and shuffled my feet. I'd blown it big time. I didn't know what to say. Couldn't believe I'd just said that. What a fuckwit. With my head hanging, I started passing the snogging couple.

But... sometimes... it seems the universe has its ways.

I felt Kelly's hand rest gently on my shoulder. I stopped and looked back at her and our eyes met in some kind of raw, extravagant honesty. The snogging couple were still hard at it, so into each other they were seemingly totally oblivious to our proximity to them. Kelly stepped back past the snogging couple and past me and beckoned me with a finger to follow her back along the corridor where she'd just come from.

A boisterous group messing around at the far end of the corridor in the direction we were heading suddenly erupted in boisterous laughter. Kelly took me off through an unobtrusive door to one side into a darkened passageway, unlit except for a very faint glow somewhere farther along. When the door shut behind us, Kelly produced her phone and used it as a torch.

This was a very different kind of corridor, not grand at all, but a service corridor, narrower, with a low ceiling and plain, dilapidated décor. To Kelly's right was an old light switch with some dodgy looking wiring poking out the side. She flicked the stiff old switch and a single naked bulb cast a weak light along the passageway.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Jed," I told her.

"Come with me, Jed," she said, seizing me by the arm as she strode purposefully down corridor. At the far end it opened out onto a gloomy cluster of untidy store rooms. There was some pale light from some external garden lighting entering through a couple of high single-pane windows with dappled glass, and some light from the bulb half way back along the corridor, but otherwise it was pretty shadowy except for the orb of light from Kelly's phone-torch. All around were piles of cardboard boxes and sundry items like a large rolled rug, some kind of heating flue piping and other random stuff.

Kelly opened another door and peeped in and scanned it with her torch. Then she pulled me in after her into a small toilet and locked the door. It was a tiny, messy little cubby hole of a toilet with peeling paint, cobwebs, a thick, stained wooden toilet seat and an old iron cistern hung above head-height on iron braces with half a broken metal chain hanging down from it.

It was so tight in there we couldn't help but stand pushed up against each other. The press of her body against mine filled me with a throbbing tingling all over and I began to tremble.

She fiddled with the sliding lock but it came off in her hand and she dropped it to the floor in disgust. She tried the light switch but it was didn't work. She turned her phone's torch off and we were lit only by a faint glow coming in through another of the high windows of dappled glass, this one just a little square that was even smaller than the other ones out in the store room. I could just about make her out in the faint aura of light, the shape of her head, her shoulders, the reflective sheen of one side of her scintillating face. Very close. Claustrophobic. I could feel her breathing, the aliveness of her body against mine.

"So," she said softly in the darkness, "you like black girls, huh?"

"I like you," I replied.

"Wanna kiss me?" she asked.

I leaned forward to kiss her and felt her tense. Then I felt the crashing thunder of her open hand slapping me across my face so hard I could have sworn I heard bells ringing.

"On your knees," she told me curtly.

"What?" I asked, not quite sure I'd heard her right.

"I said get on your knees!"

I jostled downward awkwardly in the cramped space, receiving a hot electric shock of sensual connection as I slid down against Kelly's torso to kneel down on both knees. I wondered if she was going to ask me to perform cunnilingus. I'd always wanted to try that. But she shuffled herself around to turn her back towards me, pointedly rubbing her backside all over my face as she did so.

"Kiss my arse," she told me.

"What?" I asked incredulously.

She reached behind her and repeatedly slapped the side of my head with a sharp fury. "You say what one more fucking time and I'll slap you so fucking silly you won't know what day it is! Now, kiss my arse! And you better thank me for the privilege too!"

Trembling with nerves, and still rocked by those ferocious slaps, I held Kelly's hips in awe, feeling strangely elated by her abuse. I planted a slow, lingering, emphatic kiss into one of the soft orbs of her peachy little backside in those tight jeans.

"Thank you, I said.

"Again," she told me.

I kissed her backside again, the other buttock this time, slowly like before, making it last, and then I thanked her again. Sheer undiluted joy. I felt dizzy. A warm glow radiating within. Fizzy tingles stirring my cock.

Kelly hurriedly undid her jeans and yanked them down with her panties around her thighs. My face hovered in the gloom close beside the soft aromatic warmth of her bare arse cheeks. I brushed my lips nervously over her skin, worshipping, worshipping, worshipping.

She started hypnotically twisting those miraculous hips from side to side, indulgently rubbing her fleshly rump all around over my face, telling me over and over to kiss her arse. I kissed and kissed, pressing my lips fervently into those glorious globes of intimate soft flesh as they rubbed over my features.

Reaching behind her, Kelly gripped the back of my head and pulled my face deep between her buttocks and held me there. My nostrils filled with the most sublime of perfumes. I gasped for air but could only breathe in the scents of her sweat, her skin, her whiffy bottom. Intensely intimate. Poignantly pungent. Delightfully delectable. My cock stiffened to bursting with aching, raging lust for this woman.

But suddenly we both instantaneously froze at a noise from the other side of the door, a scrape of something across the floor or something. Someone was out there in the storage area. We stayed absolutely still. My heartbeat and my breathing felt loud as fuck, even with my face in Kelly's bottom. The seconds stretched fearfully without end, but Kelly's hand kept my head firmly planted in her backside. Then with breathless agitation she whispered into the stifling silence, "Kiss my shit hole."

I pressed my lips firmly onto her bum hole. Joy exploded within me. I'd never felt so alive. I just had to touch myself and slipped a hand into my trousers and began stroking myself as I kissed her naughty hole again and again.

After a moment I became aware she was rubbing her pussy. I could feel the slight rocking motion of her hips, her busy fingers accidently fluttered briefly over my chin, and my nostrils were suddenly hit with the intensely strong, rich scent of her pussy juices.

I was absolutely terrified our smutty intimacy would be ruined by our discovery any second, and found myself jerking off with desperate urgency. But no further noises came from beyond the door. The anxious suspense merged seamlessly into our total absorption in what we were doing, bringing ourselves closer and closer to the edge. I just kept kissing and kissing her hole and her bum cheeks, gasping for air, not wanting anything but the heat of her flesh suffocating me and those mouth-watering aromas of her arse and her pussy and her skin and sweat filling my senses.

She moaned and gasped, squashing my head into her arse, rubbing her backside all over my face. It was incredibly empowering knowing I was giving her such pleasure. I wanted to do more. I couldn't resist. I had to do it. It was destiny. I licked her naughty hole for her. And again and again. Hot and wet, lost in crazed passion, letting her know for sure that I was hers, that I wanted her more than anything.

"Oh you dirty little fucker!" she exclaimed.

She was shaking. I held her tight and licked that gorgeous black arse for Olympic gold! I'd never tasted anything so tasty and intimate and delicious. Never experienced anything so heart-poundingly enthralling. Never been treated to such exquisite, mysterious delights.

She let out a long, strange, whining moan. "That feels so fucking good!" she whimpered.

And she fingered herself into a quick, tight little climax, ramming my face harder into her arse and grinding forcefully on my face as she came. And a moment later, all my senses overwhelmed by her, and thrilled by the glory of her groaning, shuddering pleasure, I just exploded in my trousers.

There was a thick, heavy silence as we both recovered, my face still jammed up her arse, still gripping each other, still each touching ourselves, her free hand on my head, my free hand grasping her hip. I inhaled deeply, knowing it was my last few seconds to savour those glorious fragrances.

Then Kelly pulled herself together and pushed me away, or as much as she could in that tight little space. I scrambled to get to my feet as she did up her jeans.

She turned round to face me.

"Seems white boys is good for something after all," she said.

"Fuck yeah," was all I had, so thrilled to have been allowed to share this with her.

"It don't mean we're dating or nothing," she warned. "But gimme your number. Might call you next time I want a disgusting, pervy little white boy's tongue fussing up in my black arse for me."

I felt so damn proud. It just felt so natural. My face, her arse. Made perfect sense. I wanted to tell her I loved her but thought that might be a little too forward. We left cautiously without encountering anyone, and we found our separate ways back to the party. I didn't see her again for the rest of the evening. Not for weeks afterwards actually. But eventually the call came. I mean, I'm good for something at least.