Nothing is as Sweet as Dark Honey

13 Ocak 2023 Kapalı Yazar: analsex

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I met Honey through a Christian dating site. I’m a Christian and it’s an unfashionable thing to be, so it made sense to look among kindred spirits. We hit it off immediately, as you can do in cyberland, even though I know you never really know until you meet in the flesh.She was thoughtful and kind, had a sense of humour I liked and seemed like a decent person.On the physical side, she was right up my street. She was black, of Barbadian origin, and full-bodied, which is the kind of thing they say about wine, but it applies equally well to a woman.I’m white, have had many relationships with white women and I’m still a huge fan of the English rose, the dark-haired Irish colleen, the lean, tall Dutch girl, the inscrutable Polish mystery and so on ad infinitum. But in recent years I have become particularly fond of women of African descent, dark and luscious, and often uninhibited. Whatever it is, I love the dignity of a resting black face – a sort of dignity which they don’t know they possess. And that lack of inhibitions: even among those who are private individuals without much experience, they seem willing to do whatever you want at an earlier stage in the relationship than I had come to expect.I have met shy, quiet, intensely religious black women who gave me free rein to roam their body and put any part of my anatomy anywhere I liked.And I’m a few pounds heavier than I would like, so a full-figured woman is in ankara travesti the same group as me, you might say.Honey looked great in her photographs, which were, of course, all utterly respectable, ordinary pictures of a middle-aged woman going about her daily life, sitting at her office desk, smiling, laughing at a Christmas party, posing with family members and trying to divert the spotlight from herself.It was with considerable surprise and delight that I came across, deep in her Facebook photos, a cheeky shot of her on Wall Street, standing behind a statue of a bull, with her hand cupping its testicles and a suppressed smile on her face.So, she was aware of what sex was and not averse to a laugh. I didn’t mention it, but I knew then that in the right circumstances we could have some fun in bed.After a month or so we arranged to meet. I would visit her town and, she insisted, stay in her spare room. Same house, separate room. I didn’t argue with that. It gave me a sporting chance.I arrived early on Friday afternoon and we went out for coffee. And the reason we did that was that there was this huge spark between us, and I think she was afraid she would get carried away and find herself in bed with me before she had planned to. You might think I’m flattering myself but keep reading and you’ll see.So we sat in this coffee shop and had afternoon tea and cakes and even there, in broad daylight, travesti ankara we couldn’t stop ourselves from sitting as close together as it is possible to be. Our thighs were jammed together and we even touched at the calf. I had to exert extreme discipline to stop from pulling her into my arms and kissing her. If we had got that far, I felt we couldn’t have stopped and there would have been a scandalous scene in public.Anyway, we managed to keep it under control and after an hour of incessant talking and glancing furtively into each other’s eyes and at each other’s body, we walked back to the house. We instinctively held hands and then dropped them, because this was her area, where everyone knew her and he couldn’t afford suddenly to be seen, smitten, with someone she had only just met.I wondered how long we could keep up the screens when we got indoors, but she seemed to relax as soon as we got in, because her daughter was sitting in the kitchen with her boyfriend. They were twenty-something and she was a modern version of her mother: equally buxom and radiant but with the younger woman’s extra licence to thrill. Her jeans and top were tight and showed off her full breasts, beautiful bouncy bottom, and slightly rotund stomach.If I hadn’t been in pursuit of her mother I would have been wondering how we could lose the boyfriend and get down to brass tacks ourselves.The couple’s visit had obviously ankara travestiler been arranged as a screening process. The daughter gently probed me with seemingly innocent questions designed to draw out things Honey and I hadn’t yet discussed. There was a lot about family, divorces and kids, work, financial situations, and religion, and this went on for an hour before Honey started preparing the table for four people.It was a very British teatime, with ham and cheese, pickled onions, floppy lettuce salad with vinegar, and then ice cream. No alcohol, just endless cups of tea. And all the while the subtle grilling continued until I was sorely tempted to suggest we continue this another time because her mother and I had our own conversations to have.Eventually, at about 8:30, the younger generation left us. Honey made a relieved eye-rolling face at me.“She means well,” she said. “Just looking after her Mum.”“Quite right, too,” I said. “She ought to join the police.”“She is a special constable,” Honey told me. “She’s got a real strong sense of right and wrong. I hope you didn’t mind that too much. Anyway, she’s done her duty and I can tell she approves. You did very well.”In truth, it hadn’t been that bad, because the imagination is a good companion, particularly when your interrogator is a sexy young woman whose body you can fantasise about. During my ordeal, I had mentally undressed her over and over again. I had licked every inch of her beautiful black skin, she had sat on my face and I had cum in her mouth. I had fucked her missionary, then with her legs on my shoulders and I had given her an anal experience she would never forget – except it was only in my head.

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