Unannounced visitors were not very common, especially in the middle of the day, so when the knock came at the door for Lisa Ingles, she was caught a little off guard.  Little did she know that she was about to be introduced to a world of experiences that would shift her reality and alter her life completely.  Little did she know that she was about to become an entirely new woman.

She opened the door to find herself staring, face to face, with a beautiful black woman who looked more like she belonged on a runway in Paris or New York as opposed to a quiet, unassuming street in Alpharetta.  Her face was made up in a way that was flawless, highlighting her chocolate brown complexion that looked as smooth as silk and her hypnotic eyes and full sensual lips.  She was wearing a tight black leather vest that pushed her breasts up and put them on display like a set of pillowy mounds of soft flesh.  Her expensive designer jeans hugged every curve and you can rest assured that she had curves.  She was wearing rather expensive shoes as well; not that there was much of them, it was a pair of dangerously high heels made up of just a few strips of black leather that crossed her toes and wrapped around her ankles and formed a perfect canvas for her coral colored toenails that complimented her beautiful brown skin.  Lisa, forgetting all her manners, simply stood and stared.  Waiting patiently for the usual initial shock to wear off and extending her hand, she said, “Hi neighbor, my name is Syreeta and I’m going to be moving in next door and I wanted to stop by and introduce myself.” 

Regaining her composure, Lisa shook of look her initial surprise and invited her guest in.  She felt rather underdressed in her workout clothes and she tried to hide her insecurity by being gracious.  “Steven did mention that he might be moving but I really don’t have that much interaction with him; I wasn’t even aware that he’d moved.  Welcome to the neighborhood, I’m Lisa.  My husband Brad is at work now but it’s very nice to meet you.  Please do sit down.  Would you like some coffee?” 

Syreeta’s demeanor was graceful and friendly.  She politely declined the offer for coffee and asked for some bottled water instead.  “Actually, Steven is just renting the place to us for a couple of months.  My boyfriend got a job here with CNN and I told him that I’d give him a few months to see if I could adapt to life in the burbs.  I’m hoping it’s remotely reminiscent of Wisteria Lane because I’d hate to think the most excitement that there is to be found out here is a concert at Chastain.”  

Lisa laughed along with her, rather nervously, knowing that there was little excitement north of the perimeter compared to the Desperate Housewives melodrama.  Syreeta was delightful, engaging in fact, and wove enticing tales of being a model in New York and how she and her boyfriend, Dixon, had met when he was Director of Marketing at the Lincoln Center.  As if on cue, there was another knock at the door and it was Dixon, coming to inquire about the whereabouts of his other half.

“I’m sorry, but I really need to steal Syreeta back to help me finish painting.”  Lisa stared again.  Dixon was 6 feet tall and had the same cocoa brown complexion of his lover.  His body showed evidence of many workouts and his t-shirt and sweat pants indicated that he had been working up a sweat getting things ready in the new house. 

Syreeta rolled her eyes and apologized about taking up too much time; looking like she was looking for any excuse to get out of doing work.  “Hey, want to come over for dinner on Saturday?  Bring the hubby and let’s make it a foursome, okay?”  With that, she leaned over and kissed Lisa on the cheek like they were long lost friends.  It was a little more intimate than Lisa was expecting and it gave her a thrill somehow, not really sure why but aware that there was some sort of unspoken exchange of electricity in the room. 

Lisa shut the door and was alive with sensation but she didn’t quite know why or what to do about it.  Her pussy was tingling and her clit was throbbing.  She hadn’t masturbated in years.  In fact, she couldn’t really remember the last time she’d been really horny.  On the rare occasion she felt like she wanted some sexual release she would get in bed with her husband and say, “Honey . . . “ and that was indication that he should get under the covers and go to work.  He’d lift up her conservative cotton nightgown and lick her to orgasm and the entire ordeal would be over without much else being said.  Lisa couldn’t wait for Brad to get home.  Every step she took she was reminded of her swollen pussy lips and the moisture that soaked her panties.  Had it been merely Syreeta’s presence that had aroused such fever?  She thought perhaps that the reason she was so horny must have been Dixon, with his muscular body flexing beneath his t-shirt and invoking fantasies of the forbidden.  Unable to concentrate, Lisa took a shower, aimed the showerhead directly on her clit, and fingered herself to a mind-blowing orgasm in the afternoon. 

All week long, Lisa was filled with new erotic sensations.  She started dressing up a little more during the day, wearing more makeup and more revealing clothing, and she would demand that Brad lick her to orgasm at night.  Closing her eyes, she would get lost in vague fantasies, fantasies of brown skin and heated passion and shadowy images of intense fervor that her body longed to feel.  Brad noticed the change in her conduct and loved every second of it.  Her libido was reawakened and she was more commanding in the bedroom.  Her orgasms seemed more intense; she seemed more determined to use his mouth for her pleasure. 

Brad appreciated the renewed sexual activity.  He would slide out of bed after having finished servicing his wife and sit in front of his computer screen.  His cock wouldn’t stay hard for sex but it sure as hell felt good when he pulled on it and looked at porn.  Mostly, he looked at images of white women being savagely fucked by gangs of black men.  He dreamt of Lisa being used and fucked by thick, long black cocks, his heart would flutter with jealousy, and his cock would drip with arousal.  He would stroke and dream of seeing her well-used cunt, dripping with cum and his mouth would water, fantasizing about the opportunity to tasty the sweet evidence of her infidelity.  He’d never dare mention any of his thoughts to his wife; she would never understand his deep desire to see her being fucked by a black man.  It just wasn’t something southern white women would even contemplate and it wasn’t something white men were supposed to jerk off to so he was content to live in secrecy and denial.

Lisa and Syreeta were spending more time together as the days passed.  By Friday night, by the time Brad came home, Syreeta and Lisa were giggling and whispering like teenagers and Dixon had to come retrieve his girlfriend, yet again, because they were going to be late for a very important dinner reception.  Syreeta winked at Lisa and said, “So we are soooo excited to see you tomorrow night for dinner.  Can’t wait in fact.”  She kissed Lisa goodbye, this time fully on the mouth, and it seemed to linger a little longer than one would expect and Brad felt a pang of jealousy that gave him a raging hardon.  Dixon just rolled his eyes, gave Brad a knowing wink, and ushered his lovely companion off for the evening.  They were barely out the door before Lisa had Brad on his knees licking her to orgasm in the kitchen while the children played totally unaware in the back yard. 

Saturday was the day of reckoning.  The kids had been packed up for sleepover dates with their friends and Lisa was in rare form.  All day long, It seemed like she couldn’t get enough oral sex and she was even getting more verbal than usual, more dominate in her commands.  “Get on your knees and eat my pussy.  Yeah, suck it.  I bet Dixon doesn’t have a worthless cock.  I bet he can get it up to fuck Syreeta and he doesn’t have to eat her out all the time.  I bet she gets that big hard black cock rammed in her pussy all the time.  I bet he has a gigantic cock” Her dialogue seemed to drive them both over the edge and they were soon both cumming like crazy; Brad wanking away while he drove his tongue deeply inside his lovely wife and Lisa practically suffocation her hubby by riding his face. 

Neither of them had the nerve to discuss the dynamic that was evolving between them.  They seemed to exist very happily with their unspoken new raison d’etre.  As Lisa prepared for their dinner date Brad could barely contain himself.  She put on a brand new outfit, one that she and Syreeta had picked out at the Northlake Mall.  The skirt was dangerously short and showed off her well toned legs.  The top was low cut as well and displayed her tits in a way that most mothers of 2 couldn’t do at 37 years old.  She put on a thong and, at the last minute, bent over in front of Brad and slid it off.  He practically shot a load in his pants then and there.  He couldn’t get over the transformation of his wife and how she’d become so sexual in such a short period of time. 

They knocked on the door at exactly 8 PM and Syreeta greeted them and invited them in.  They had decorated they house such that it didn’t even look like it belonged on such a quiet little enclave, it looked like something out of an interior design magazine.  Brad was expecting something more outlandish, like on MTV Cribs because that’s all he’d ever really known of Black wealth.  He had to check his own biases at the door because Dixon and Syreeta were far from stereotypical, they were two intelligent, articulate, extremely sophisticated people, and they seemed to be wildly in love with one another. 

Brad handed Dixon a bottle of wine and they went off to the dining room to enjoy a sumptuous meal of French onion soup, curry roasted duck, roasted asparagus with garlic, and focaccia bread while listening to some rarely heard tracks from John Coltrane.  The evening was flowing seamlessly and everyone but Brad seemed to have this secret that they were keeping.  The more wine that flowed, the more the unspoken glances were exchanged, and private jokes passed.  Brad laughed nervously as they seemed to be laughing at his expense. 

After dinner, they foursome retired to the living room and shared some cognac.  The alcohol had loosened Lisa’s inhibitions and she sat next to Dixon, ignoring Brad completely, pretending to be engrossed in a conversation about jazz when it was more than obvious she was simply using that as a pretense to press her body next to his.  Syreeta seemed to be running interference for her new friend, trying to distract Brad with conversation about Real Estate and things that would keep his focus off their respective partners.  Syreeta pulled Brad to the backyard with the pretense of looking at property lines and when they returned to the living room, Dixon and Lisa were nowhere to be found.  When Brad inquired where they went, Syreeta implied that it was nothing he should be worried about, that they were probably just getting better acquainted. 

Better acquainted was an understatement.  While Brad and Syreeta were in the living room making casual conversation about fixed mortgages, Lisa was in the bedroom, on her knees, with both hands wrapped around Dixon’s cock, stroking it and coaxing out precum to lick off.  That had been the plan for the better part of the week; Lisa was going to get fucked like she needed it and Dixon was going to serve up the dick like only he knew how.  She and Syreeta planned and plotted over coffee how she was going to become an insatiable slut right under Brad’s nose.  This was Lisa’s moment of reckoning.  Dixon pulled her tits out of her top and squeezed her nipples hard.  Lisa moaned and begged for him to do it harder, shocked at her own desires.  She wrapped her lips around his cock and started sucking it like a wanton whore.  Dixon grabbed her brown hair, pulled it like he was pulling reigns on a philly, and started fucking her mouth hard.  She was choking on that cock but she refused to stop sucking.  She was trying to get him to cum in her mouth.  She’d never let Brad cum in her mouth in their 12 years of marriage but she wanted to take Dixon’s load more than anything.  The harder he fucked her mouth, the more she licked and sucked and swallowed every black inch.  Lisa was up for the challenge and taking it all. 

Her pussy was throbbing and dripping and she was ready for the main course without much foreplay but Dixon had other plans.  He tossed her on the bed and pushed her tits together.  Her tits were a present from her husband for her 35 birthday and he grabbed them and squeezed them, he even slapped them at Lisa’s request.  She was craving rough treatment and she couldn’t get enough.  She was mesmerized his brown skin in contrast to her pale flesh.  Dixon alternated between fucking her tits and fucking her mouth and he was making sure that Lisa was aware of her place as his plaything with his words.  “Look at you, you nasty cunt, sucking my big black cock. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll never be satisfied with your husband’s little prick again.  You’ll be begging me to bend you over and ram this big dick in you.  You love this, don’t you?  You know I’m about to fuck you senseless, don’t you?”

Meanwhile, back in the living room, Brad was getting more and more uncomfortable as time passed.  He kept looking towards the master bedroom, wondering if he could hear signs of sex or if it was just his imagination.  His cock was rock hard at the thought of his wife, merely feet away, getting filled with the cock of her black lover.  He couldn’t hide his arousal and he was trying to discretely rub himself.  Syreeta could sense his distraction and she toyed with him, whispering in his ear as she taunted him.  “He’s fucking her right now, you know that, don’t you?”  He’s got her bent over and he’s ramming his huge dick in her from behind, stretching her and filling her like you never could. 

Brad couldn’t swallow.  His eyes were glued in the direction of the bedroom and he was in a trance.  He’d never been more turned on in his entire life. 

“Oh god, it hurts.  Please, don’t stop.”  Brad choked for air as he could clearly hear the sounds of his wife’s cries coming from the bedroom.  His wife was engaged in some serious fucking and he didn’t know what to do.  Syreeta toyed with him as he strained to hear more.  He was sure he could hear the sounds of the headboard hitting the wall and Dixon groaning and telling his wife how good her tight white pussy was.  He was correct.  Lisa was on her hands and knees, getting banged hard, her tits flapping as a hard black cock hit her in places that hadn’t been touched in years.  Dixon had his thumb in her ass and he was threatening to fuck her there.  Lisa was begging for it loud enough for Brad to hear.  “Oh yes, fuck me hard, use my white pussy, fuck me good and hard.  Make me your white slut, I love your big hard cock.  Use my holes for your pleasure.  I want to feel your cum dripping from my pussy and my asshole.  I want your jism in my belly.  Oh yesss, I want to eat Syreeta’s sweet black pussy while you bang me hard from behind.  I’m a nasty, filthy, dirty slut for your cock.  Oh, shit.  I’m going to cum.  Please, leave your load in me.  Please give me your cum.  I’m cumming, I’m cumming.  Oh fuck I’m cumming.  She was cumming harder than she’d cum in years.  “Yes, Dixon, cum inside meeeeeee.  Please.”

In the living room, Brad was practically crying.  It was his dream come true, his fantasy made reality but he wasn’t there to witness it.  He wanted to ask Syreeta if he could lick her pussy but he wasn’t sure of the proper protocol.  He wanted to take his cock out and jerk it off with his ear pressed to the bedroom door.  He looked a Syreeta and she seemed calm, cool, and collected, like she and Dixon has done this plenty of times before.  He wondered briefly how they could have such an open relationship, one based on such freedom and communication. 

Lisa emerged from the bedroom, dressed, but disheveled.  She looked drained but glowing.  Her footsteps were shaky and she walked to Brad and kissed him squarely on the mouth.  He could taste the evidence of a sex on her lips.  Exhausted, she whispered, “Let’s go home.  Dixon and I made a special dessert just for you.”  Brad thanked Syreeta for the lovely meal and they hurried off next door, to enjoy the fruits of their experience and reap the creamy rewards. 

Copyright 2005 AfroerotiK