Tempted & Tried: Loving Him & Loving Her,
An Interracial Love Triangle
By Tiffany McDowell
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Tempted & Tried: Loving Him & Loving Her, An Interracial Love Triangle
By Tiffany McDowell
I was always being portrayed as ‘Miss Goodie Two Shoes.’ My parents, friends and church group knew that at the age of twenty, I was still a virgin.
It wasn’t that I didn’t get a lot of offers from handsome boys to be their main squeeze, it was just that I was always terrified of trusting myself alone with men. My goal had been, ever since I first became a teenager, to save myself for marriage, but that was always based on the assumption that by twenty I would be married. I always fancied myself as a woman that would marry young, only now¸ on the verge of becoming twenty-one, I was no closer to finding that special man in my life, than I was when I had first promised myself years earlier that I would save myself for that all important walk down the aisle.
Even without a college education, I had found my niche selling luxury homes, and was selling about six or seven each year, raking in huge commissions, and becoming financially independent. I was ten years younger than any of the other top real estate sale reps at the firm, and yet, I was hovering at or near the coveted number one ranking. Others had slightly more sales, but then they had large sales teams and were paying huge commissions, bonuses and salaries to support staff, whereas I was doing everything virtually on my own. I thrived as an independent black business woman and had a real talent for making good money, and yet, without a man in my life, I at times felt discouraged and unfulfilled. I suppose that is why I experienced such a monumental thrill when Davey first came onto the scene.
Davey was also a Christian. Only he was white, and had gone to college, where he had graduated with a master’s degree in psychology. I suppose a part of me was suspicious of people who were experts in psychology. I never fully understood the medical terminology or the scientific mumbo jumbo that went with the subject of studying and analyzing a person’s thought process. I guess a part of me was always wondering if Davey were getting inside my head, and figuring out what made me tick. In that regard, I always felt as though he had an unfair advantage in our fledgling relationship.
I loved tall men, and Davey was a stunning six foot four, making me swoon at times in his presence. He was also very handsome, and sported just enough sexy stubble when he wore his trendy suits, to drive me to distraction.
He wore this fabulous imported after shave, and it sweetly accosted my nostrils to the point to where if I didn’t inhale the heavenly fumes at least once per day, I would laughingly joke to my friends that I was experiencing after shave withdrawal pains.
He also had this silky dirty blond hair, almost a sandy brown, which was long but styled, and crawled sexily along his neck onto these dreamy broad shoulders of his.
Another thing that turned me on about him was the velvety rich voice that melodically worked its magic in my receptive ears, stunning me with that awesome Italian accent that other European men tried to emulate only couldn’t perfect. With Davey in the room, I always got the sense that it was time to hide my heart and even a wiser precaution to cover up my impressive assets he seemed so intent on complimenting me over with his seductive big brown eyes.
He used to tell me over and over how he loved black women, and how I was the “quintessential African American Beauty.”
He was always very good at coming up with seductive phrases that would dangerously be able to rattle my cage of resistance to the point where I’d get weak at the knees if I lingered in his presence for too long.
And so it was, that he and I dated throughout the three summer months of 2013, seeing each other at least four times per week, enjoying cozy lunches in bistro cafes, or elegant dining at five star restaurants, or wicked dance sessions at raunchy, late night bump and grind dance floors. Sometimes we would just chat on Skype, or chat on the phone endlessly. Occasionally we would head on down to the beach, enjoying a walk along the sandy shoreline, with our ankles dipped in cooling water while we carried our shoes. At other times, he would actually bring his swimming trunks and encourage me to go swimming with him. On such occasions, I would invariably wear my string bikini, showing off the sides of my enormous black boobs, and teasing him with a thong string that left nothing to the imagination where my rounded, mouth-watering bum cheeks were concerned.
I’ll admit that I had become captivated with him over the summer months, not noticing my heart being sucked into the vacuum that was his dazzling smile and rippling six pack, showcasing a set of well-defined pecs that made me sweat and pant whenever I was forced to gaze upon his amazing musculature.
Whenever I was with him, I never had to pay for anything, not even gas in my BMW. He would insist I pull over to the gas station where he would fill up my car. He always paid for each and every check, meticulously tipping any waitress above and beyond the norm, just to ensure I wouldn’t be tempted to even pull out something for a tip.
And he would often take me shopping, buying shoes that were both trendy, ultra sexy and irresistibly gorgeous. He knew how much I loved shoes and made sure he showered me with at least one or two new pairs each and every week. Even going to the theatre or simply buying ice cream from a vendor was always his treat. I had never had a generous man like that in my life before and rumor had it that Davey was the son of a mafia mobster. I didn’t, however, pay much attention to the rumors. All I paid attention to were how he and I seemed to be on a collision course where falling in love was concerned.
By the time October had rolled around, and we had completed four months of heavy dating, I was resigned to the fact that I had foolishly not guarded my heart from his insidiously sweet and alluring charms.
Things always look different in the fall, especially when you are in love. The vibrant colors of drying, fallen leaves crunched under my feet as we walked hand in hand, sharing, on occasion, moist, sensual kisses that were more like potent heat seeking missiles then mere pecks on the lips. And so it was, that on the eve called Halloween, I finally realized that my sex starved body and love starved heart were petitioning my already sweetly tortured mind, to please give into the unthinkable, and give up my long coveted virginity.
To be a virgin, or not to be a virgin, that was the question. But there was more to it than that. The Christian faith I belonged to was one of those far right wing sects that was strict in its belief that contraceptives and abortions were a no-no.
Davey, although not a part of my church, was seemingly enthusiastic about the prospect of being a father, and instead of being scared off by my warning that any sex would probably result in a pregnancy, seemed to relish the prospect of planting some seed in my belly that would swell ruthlessly for a whole nine months, destroying my amazing figure and saddling me with a breast sucking infant tha
t would undoubtedly be the first of many. Most women in my church were burdened with scores of children coming up in steps, but I had hoped to hold out as a virgin and hold onto my real estate business until I was at least twenty-five or thirty, thereby saving a large fortune. But, as I alluded to earlier, money was never an issue for Davey, and the way he tossed it around, I was convinced he was a multi-millionaire. Still, millionaire or not, my unshakable Christian faith was advising me to get with the program. Davey was willing to join my church, having liked the handful of Sunday services we did attend together, and my body was on such fire from always being super horny in his presence, that I felt it was now merely a matter of time before I caved in and was unable to keep coughing up the required willpower to continually resist his escalating advances.
We had thought that it might be fun to hand out candy bars to the Halloween trick or treaters from my condo, and so we had assembled in my living room, me and the man of my dreams, taking turns getting up off the couch to hand out candy to costumed kids, until there were no more kids to hand out to. Whenever I was alone with Davey, I always tried to let it be at a restaurant, or mall store, or on the beach, or walking along a road. I didn’t like to take chances being alone with him at my condo, or at his place, for any long period of time. Especially how I was beginning to fall so hard for him.
“I’ve really fallen in love with you, I’m sure of that now,” he told me, his arm creeping around my shoulder and his body shifting closer as the fireplace cackled and roared.
I didn’t answer right away, my mind racing with thoughts of how to extricate myself from the sticky situation. We were at my home alone. Just him and I. There were no more kids coming to the door to distract us with requests for treats.
I began to pant, realizing what was coming next.
His mouth was sexy and warm, smothering my lips and letting me know that it was going to be a lot harder to brush him off than at other times. For one thing, I knew in my heart of hearts that I felt the same way. I was also hopelessly in love.
His left hand had drifted down to my right thigh, resting on the bare skin that was exposed by the skirt having ridden up. I remember thinking how exhilarating it was, and cautioning myself to remove his hand before it could move anywhere else along my tempted body. But my dwindling willpower was definitely in trouble. He was such a hunk and I wanted to make love to him so damn bad that I had to remind myself of the catastrophic consequences if I tried.
“Please, maybe we should just stop,” I begged. “A part of me wants to go all the way, but my religion is quite explicit, in saying no contraceptives and no abortions. Losing my virginity would probably mean getting pregnant, and I’m not ready for that. I’m only twenty. I’d like to remain single and keep on selling real estate for another five years. I can save a lot of money, and-”
“I’m a multi-millionaire,” he whispered back, his hand now gently clasping my hip and his lips roaming over my cheek and neck. “You don’t need to save money. You don’t need to work.”
“Are you saying you want to marry me?” I asked, terrified he would say yes and push me even closer to the brink.
“I’ll do anything you want me to,” he said back, his white face now flush and red, his chest now turned sideways so that my left breast pressed sweetly against him. He was unstoppably horny and I cringed in horror as his free hand slipped behind my back. I knew instinctively he was going to try and pull down my flimsy blouse. The top button broke and popped onto the floor, and since I had on no bra underneath, both my breasts were suddenly out in the open, standing lustily in front of his enraptured gaze.
My eyes widened in shock, but no words of protest slung from my stunned lips. He gave me a second to think things over, and I did, sticking tenuously to my guns that going down the slippery slope of sex where my quirky religion was concerned, would lead to me forced into have one child after another. I just wasn’t ready, at the tender age of twenty, to go down that horrendous pathway yet.
“I’m not ready for marriage yet,” I finally whispered back. “Neither am I ready to be barefoot and pregnant for the next twenty-five years.”
He kissed one of my breasts, defiantly daring me to stop him. The sensation of sudden, intense pleasure shot through my vulnerable chest. My head tossed back at the glorious sweetness and my fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, pulling his long, sexy hair toward me, encouraging his face to snuggle closer onto my quivering black boobs.
I wanted to tell him to stop, but a part of me was far too horny to make the damn declaration. No man had ever kissed my breasts before, and he was devastating them now with his lips and tongue, making my nipples swell and my temperature rise.
Both his hands were now under my skirt, lifting it higher, until I could feel my panty being pulled off along my legs and being dropped onto the floor.
The roaring fire seemed so much hotter now, and despite him having tossed away my panty, I was still not a hundred percent committed to letting him have his way with my oversexed and overheated body. Once a woman in my religion got married and started down the slippery slope of having babies, it was not uncommon for some couples who married at an early age to have a dozen or even fifteen or twenty children. The thought terrified me.
His hands were now clasping my bum firmly, and the sight of his stiff, anxious penis shocked the life out of me. When had he taken it out?
He lift me effortlessly in his powerful arms, sitting me onto his lap. His iron hard erection rubbed against my virgin pussy and I moaned at the sheer paradise of it all.
“I want to more than anything else in the entire world,” I spat out, almost gasping the words. “But I can’t…all those children…I can’t…not just yet…maybe in five or ten years.”
He stared back at me incredulously. “You expect me to wait five or ten years to make love to the woman of my dreams?”
His words made perfect sense. He was a hot blooded, wildly turned on young man in love, and he needed sex now. If not from me, then eventually from someone else.
He had assumed all along that we would be making love on this Halloween night by the roaring fire, and despite my objections, he was determined to tempt me into changing my mind.
His warm handsome mouth dove once more for my breasts, kissing them fervently and making me swoon with delight.
His hands rubbed along my bum and hips, turning me on even more, as his fiery hot cock now maneuvered flush onto my stunned clitoris.
My toes curled at the awesome delight. Just how the hell was I supposed to resist him now?
“Damn you, David,” I whispered, signalling with my pussy pressing hard onto the tip of his cock, that I was about to give up my virginity myself.
I pulled him forward, feeling my vaginal tunnel stretch open as I filled my insides with his hot and horny erection. His balls, filled with his sperm, rested ominously on my leg. Soon they would be firing into me, and there would be nothing I could possibly do about that now. I had committed the both of us to making love.
“Try not to climax too quickly,” I pleaded. “I want to at least enjoy it.”
“Don’t worry,” he shot back, kissing my face and neck passionately. “I can hold out for hours before coming.”
My arms were now around him, and my hips winding and grinding overtop of his engulfed penis as our chests met and our mouths pressed like fire against each other. It was then and there I knew we would be making love the whole night through. Just the mere thought seemed to set me off, and an unexpected orgasm now took hold of my body, stunning me with riveting pleasure. I braced myself for a prolonged jolt of paradise and melted into his muscular arms.
XXX
I awoke to the smell of fresh brewing coffee. My nipples felt swollen, yet blissfully horny, and I rubbed them meticulously as my toes curled at the rising pleasure.
The mental image of a muscular, pumping Davey still branded my mind with a sharp purposeful focus. I wanted and needed to make love to him again. But first I would
have to find him, and then I would have to ensure that his stiff, wondrously thick cock was iron hard and poised to inflict the most unbearably sweet heaven into my pussy that was humanly possible.
I suddenly felt like a tigress, hunting, sleuthing, stalking my male prey as I tip toed into the kitchen. He wasn’t there. Instead, I swung my sexy body a full hundred and eighty degrees around on the balls of my feet, then darted into the living room. He wasn’t there either.
I was suddenly hungry for his giant cock, my lips panting in their need to roll their moistness down along the sensitive skin of his impressive shaft. I had often dreamed of sucking on a man’s stiff, filthy cock. It was a fantasy that most young women would pretend never to have, but for me the temptation was now riveting and awe inspiring. I began to feel my black flesh become hot and flush to the touch. I closed my eyes and imagined my thick lips wrapped around his dangling ball sac, gripping his bum with my red painted nails as my mouth sucked feverishly on the sperm filled spheres. But just where the hell was he?
I reached down with my right index finger and gently prodded my clitoris lump until it exploded with orgasmic paradise. I groaned maniacally as my insides flooded themselves and a stream of heavy scented juice dripped onto my still probing finger.
My pink tunnel was on fire, desperate to be filled once again with his thrusting, iron hard cock. I had spent my life suppressing my sex starved body, and now, despite my once virgin pussy being so tender, raw and swollen, all I could think about or imagine, was having him pound me for a few hours more. If, of course, I could make him hard again. The clock read seven-twenty five. He had reached orgasmic glory only a few hours earlier, but I hoped he was one of those men that could get hard again at will. He had, after all, indicated he could go all night if he needed to. And my wildly turned on pussy certainly needed him to.
I suddenly heard the velvety rich voice of a man singing in the shower. It was accompanied by the sound of happy whistling and it was coming from the upstairs shower in my bedroom.
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