Stranger in the Wharf

by H. A. Nicola

  When she was finished, she lay there. Partly because she had little energy to move, but also to allow his tongue to sup the dregs of her and clear the residue with his lips.

  When she awoke, the sky outside was darkening; and the hotel lighting became more illuminated as evening drew in.

  She was wrapped in one of the white terrycloth dressing gowns with her clothes folded neatly on the chair beside the desk.

  Next to the bed, a glass of Prosecco—now room temperature, had been placed on the bedside table with a post-it note as its coaster.

  She could just make out his written scrawl as she squinted her eyes in the semi-darkness.

  “Goodnight, gorgeous. See you tomorrow.”

  Cayenne couldn’t deny the injury she felt that he had gone. She supposed she knew he would leave at some point but not like this. She swallowed the wine as her forehead contorted with frustration.

  She awoke the next morning to his messages.

  “How are you?”

  “Okay, you?”

  “Did you order breakfast?”

  “Yes. Problem gold-card exec?”

  “Not complaining—the bill just surprised me.”

  “Considerably cheaper than Knightsbridge Agent Provocateur I would imagine.” Cayenne spat alluding to the lingerie treat he had promised but not fulfilled.

  “Now that is a good image. Sipping Champagne whilst you are wearing Agent P…”

  “Should have stayed last night then, shouldn’t you. Suppose you’ll have to introduce me to a platinum exec. Particularly those that are not immune to wet pussies.”

  “Self-restraint is a virtue. It was a FUCKING challenge I can tell you.”

  “‘How can a man prove he is starving, except by eating’, that’s a David Niven quote.”

  “I thought you liked the humour.”

  “It’s your finest quality.”

  “I appreciate other skills need more practice, teacher.”

  “I find it almost impossible to teach unless one’s protégé is resolutely studious, persistent and determined.”

  “I’m just remembering the arch in your back.”

  “Do you want more?”

  "What do you really think?

  You are so tight which is perhaps why I’m struggling to hold… it’s very enjoyable to see how big I look in you…

  The contrast lived up to expectation—the image of white disappearing into black hardens me as I write."

  "Right now I am very aware of the vacancy of my pussy… the longing…

  The hunger within my clit.

  What torment now devours me."

  “As your toy completes his education his nerves will abate.”

  "Let us not make haste to the graduation.

  For the journey of discovery is to be savoured for fear the truth of learning escapes.

  Just supposing you never again encounter the bliss of cocoa genitalia, especially one so deliciously juicy.

  Should you encounter such fortune again… you would be prudent to not take it for granted."

  “Point made cheeky. Can we be fucking sordid now please?”

  “I was imagining earlier, bumping into you in the street accompanied by some pale skank and the very public crotch hold that would ensue. Totally unperturbed by the on-looking colourless hologram… I would continue my assault, and, finally, rub my fingers all over my pussy until infinitely creamed and wipe the remnants all over your pale face and bid you good day.”

  "The pale skank would have been discarded immediately as the smell of your intoxicating caramel hardens me, and I follow you like a dog on heat.

  Perhaps the pale skank could come too and be another bitch toy solely for your use and pleasure."

  "Indeed. I’d invite her along to Mayfair… where she would devour the Tapas. I’d wait until the both of you were excited and ready for action (not that Miss Dry Pussy would display any visible signs); then I’d leave you both to your Milky-Way gymnastics whilst I trawl Mayfair in search of sophistication and learned culture, safe in the knowledge that short of a miraculous influx of moisture, your female counterpart can be assured sore disappointment.

  “That sounds rubbish. Let’s ignore that.”

  “One must not waiver from one’s pursuit of noir exploits. One must be resolute. Is it black juicy pussy you want or not?”

  "I will immediately abandon any tolerance of white pussies.

  I will no longer give pale skanks the time of day. I am a slave to black pussy juice. I was merely considering my black Queen’s pleasure."

  "I find your limp-wristed tendency towards indecision, tedious.

  I’m inclined to punish you by replicating a white shag experience solely for your comfort… but to consider stretching out and dehumidifying my gorgeously succulent, coconut-lady muffin is just beyond comprehension.

  However, I applaud your endeavours to please the Royal Nubian."

  “I want to be stiff and hard in your hands… then mouth and then wet cunt.”

  “Your proposal causes my lady garden to spring a chocolate well.”

  “I need a drink from that well.”

  “Remembering the sound of your slurps is causing a juicy reaction. Seeing your head foraging between my legs is such a fucking turn on. I want to pussy slap your face.”

  "Do you remember how fucking desperate and hungry I was for your black cunt.

  Glorious, big long licks of your cinnamon delight with your legs open wide and your chocolate fully accessible.

  I rather enjoyed slapping your face with my cock too."

  “Oh yes, I clearly remember you demanding for me to look at you. I opened wide and waited in hot anticipation of the warmth of your tongue on the mouth of my tunnel. Stimulating my clit until we were awash with cinnamon cum.”

  "So much black pussy juice. Liquid ecstasy.

  You quenched my thirst and drenched my albeit rubbered cock. We were filth.

  I can still hear your moans and smell your juice; I got blacked. Disappearing into chocolate… The way it should be—so said the black Queen as she took her corruption to the next level."

  “You’ll never forget dipping deep into my sabre-like dripping cunt. For a moment, I forgot my domination as I surrendered to the white cock pummelling me.”

  “Mmmm, now knowing that turns me on. Mental note—more white-cock pummelling needed.”

  “Mmmm, drifting in and out of consciousness in the midst of mixed race sodomy. Pummel away, like a drill piercing a log of glossed mahogany.”

  "I want to be inside. Then you on top. I so wanted your desperate release on me as you rammed yourself down on me again and again.

  Taking me as deep as you could, your gorgeous, toned black body, such a breath taking sight as you fucked and fucked."

  “You must delve further… for what hidden riches lie within. Oh for more opportunities to straddle your white cock… to find my stride and complete a slow lyrical seduction.”

  “We were rampant for it… desperate hounds. No one can know the ungodly utterances we spoke to each other, as we crossed boundaries which both hardened and wetted us…”

  “Yes, what mind-blowing territories we embraced in passionate abandon. Watching you get immersed in my powerful liberating blackness.”

  "Free At Last.

  The black arrogance hardens me further. My white cock appears to be confirming the truth in what you say… does he only rise for black now?"

  "Not at all. The sun will always be the sun. Its purpose is to rise.

  However, some days are infinitely more humid than others. Sometimes, the sun leaves the ground relentlessly parched; and on other days, perhaps when there is yet moisture besides… the very same sun causes a wilting lifeless plant to come back to life."

  Chapter 30

  The gym was strangely becoming a daily ritual which amazed Diego who constantly reminded his mum that she was one of those people that ridiculed gym members and considered that they were being duped out of their har
d-earned money when they could achieve the same results at home if they applied themselves.

  In actual fact, her views hadn’t totally changed about that. She witnessed plenty of people every day that were indeed wasting their membership money. Okay, so they turned up when many didn’t, but it was blatantly obvious to her that showing up wasn’t enough if you didn’t give 100%. Many seemed to just go through the motions, perhaps to appease the guilt of their undisciplined lifestyle. In the few months since she herself had joined, she could even see some people looking more out of shape than when she had first seen them. Then there was the other end of the spectrum—those aggressive women that eyed her up at the beginning of class and walked around posturing with venom in their eyes. She could certainly understand the competitiveness. She had that too. But why the hostility? It made for a very uncomfortable atmosphere.

  The glossy videos always made it look like going to one of those high-intensity classes would be full of high fives and shoulder slapping and fist pumping to some R’n’B music. Everybody running out together, as though they were a baseball team, charged-up with enthusiasm after a team bonding session. Everybody looking great and seemingly pleased for one another’s success. The reality was very different.

  There would be the confident ones standing up front; and the less confident ones somewhere towards the back looking on longingly, hoping that they too would get bodies that exhibited all their hard work.

  Cayenne made up her mind that she was going to be competitive, aim to be the best and to push herself harder than anybody else, but she would do it in a friendly way.

  Being bombarded with erotic emails had become another daily ritual.

  "Let my cock see you…

  Or entertain it with some corruptive viewing. Surely I deserve a treat."

  For some reason, his demands for videos or pictures always irked her. Especially when offers of his own images were never forthcoming which she was secretly thankful for.

  “Viewing must be up close and personal. Within earshot of the moans that they evoke… within smelling distance and within inches of a gaping hungry pussy.”

  "I want to fill that hungry pussy.

  I want to be swallowed.

  I want your moans loud and dirty in my earhole.

  I want to be your interracial fuck slut."

  “I fear the vastness of said hole is beyond filling. Such is the hunger… all juice disintegrates. Only a plethoric waterfall… hot and unceasing would suffice.”

  “To help slow the tide, would the black Queen in all her generosity allow her interracial fuck slut one localised meeting whilst bigger, more-preferable-to-her-taste plans are finalised?”

  “I condemn whatever gave you the deluded notion of such Nubian generosity.”

  “The black Queen has rightly corrected her toy.”

  "Let the Queen suffer her hunger, for it is not as though she is unaccustomed.

  May her vacant pussy devour her. Render her senseless with frustration.

  May the nightmares of white pussy satisfaction shred her nerves.

  May she languish forevermore in pussy torment. For no white prince cometh. No. None appeareth on the horizon…"

  “Wow… sounds so torturous and unfair. Let me buy you a coffee later in the week.”

  Reading over their messages later on that evening whilst waiting for her French manicure to dry, Cayenne had to admit that her relationship with the stranger, if it could be called that, was bringing out a side of her she wasn’t sure what to make of. Was she so sex-starved that it brought out the Tasmanian devil within whenever she felt the urge?

  She had never used language like this in her life, and would probably never have thought to express it out loud.

  Was this a good thing? She would probably need to commit to advanced high-intensity workouts to deal with the obvious pent up sexual frustration. Why wasn’t she like most normal women who made sure that they got their needs met? Why did she have to be so particular? She imagined that most women had ‘go to’ people they could call in times of need. A friend here; an ex there. Why was she different? Why did she elect to go without? And what was it about this guy that allowed him to at least peer beyond the veil? At times she felt that she could see the sincerity in his eyes, of what she wasn’t quite sure. It wasn’t love, but it was sincere.

  Then at other times, he would make her feel that she was simply an escape from the mundanity of his corporate world, and his inability to address whatever was making him unfulfilled in his personal life.

  And what of her feelings. It wasn’t love for her either. But there was something—an electrical charge, a frisson, a spark when they were together that transcended the cringe-worthy actions, and an apparent deep concern for each other’s wellbeing.

  It feels good for now, so just go with it. Why are you over-analysing it? Maybe that’s your problem. Maybe it’s not that deep. You always try to make things more than what they are. Maybe this is just about meeting each other’s needs, and that’s it. She glared at herself in the mirror, studying her reflection.

  Her phone vibrated, and she remembered that she had put her phone on silent earlier and forgotten yet again to restore the sound. Diego was always nagging at her about that.

  “Muu-uu-uu-uum, why didn’t you answer your phone?” He bellowed when she finally answered. After she recovered from the shock of his annoyance, she would smile at the obvious concern in his voice; and the fact that if he didn’t get a response immediately, his thoughts were always for her welfare, as though he couldn’t rest until he heard her voice.

  His was the first message, asking her to get two of his favourite chocolate chip cookies that were actually family size; but he managed to devour them singlehandedly, even though the first thing he would do after opening the packet was to painstakingly remove the majority of the chocolate chips.

  Similarly, the second message was another request for chocolate.

  "My white cock needed to go trawling…

  https://www.redtube.com/546d5

  Another innocent white boy turned."

  The images that appeared on the screen made her grab for the towel at the end of her bed, suddenly grateful that she had forgotten to put it in the wash. It was needed now to place underneath her to capture the juices that were trickling down her leg.

  She lay back to watch avidly as a black woman was sandwiched between two slim, curvaceous Caucasian women who were kneeling in submission and completely at the mercy of the black Queen. Cayenne found herself writhing around on the bed unable to contain the sensations pulsing through her, making her want to climb through the screen and join in. To push the black woman aside and enjoy the service for herself.

  "Fuck. This is fucking amazing.

  I want to follow this, step by step. Never seen the pussy ass swipe before. Hell yeah. I fucking want that.

  I love the adoration. Focused black pussy devotion. I need you to emulate this devotion; otherwise I will find a white minion that does. I want the same hunger all over your face. Desperate for more black pussy and ass.

  I’m going to reward you with the face-fuck of your life. Good boy."

  The second video he sent her was of a white man thoroughly enjoying and dominating the chocolate pussy that the title boasted of.

  His passion, vigour and intensity were enthralling to her. There was no evidence of the hesitance and concern that often looked back at her during their own encounters. It seemed the stranger was battling inner conflict. Wanting to be a white whore toy but not actually having the courage to execute.

  “The second video started well.” She conceded. "Love the positioning. The beautiful sight of white on black pussy pounding, FUCKING AMAZING. Fucking black bitch was taking it and loving it. I even liked the dominant and brave white hand on her neck. Hell yeah.

  But then I realised that this will never be us."

  She wasn’t quite sure if she was toying with him here, or indeed where she was going with this. What she was ab
out to say would either cause his face to radiate a healthy pink or drain to a decidedly haunting shade of pale.

  "I saw no passion-killing RUBBER.

  There was no fear on this fortunate white man’s face. No black pussy doubt or confusion.

  See how he confidently fucked the life out of his once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  Black bitch got the full sensation of white cock. Hot and unhindered. He clearly came with the intention to devour his chocolate feast, not simply sit on the side-lines guilt-ridden.

  Are you trying to hasten my fucking torment?

  I won’t have that ecstatically blissful look on my face, will I?

  Of all the white execs in Canary Wharf… even in the underbelly… I had to stumble across Worry William who approaches every fuck with extreme caution. Who has to spreadsheet couture cunt.

  Thanks for ruining my fucking orgasm."

  She clicked off her phone, but then she realised she had more to say. She couldn’t move her fingers fast enough as she urgently typed in her thoughts, as though her life depended on it which caused her to mistype some words which added to her frustration.

  "You haven’t been fully blacked, you deluded white fuck; any more than an immigrant with a temporary visa, does not a citizen make.

  That’s you all over, isn’t it? Delusional Dan. Wanting it but not really wanting it. Saying you do with such corporate bravado, but when it comes to the crunch, you just can’t fucking hack it.

  Blacked my arse!

  Forevermore you can go through life in white suburbia telling your little white friends in your dry pussy gang… that ‘I nearly got blacked once’.

  I suggest that you go back to the safety of white suburbia and keep your black hunger where it ought to be… In your fucking dreams WHITE BOY."

  “Wow. Good day to you too. The Queen’s wrath is ruthless considering the delivery was only supposed to give some afternoon pleasure and satisfaction.”

  “What use is satisfaction that falls below the grade.”