After meeting Mrs. Jennings that Sunday, all I could think about was what I was going to do to her and have her do to me. Each day I would think of new things to add to my mental list. She told me she was willing to be a whore for me and I was going to take advantage of it. Over the years after our affair ended, I thought of our relationship on occasion. As I got older, I came to understand it was not a very healthy relationship and was rather perverse. I never treated another woman I dated like I treated Mrs. Jennings. Even when I was in my second year at the Citadel, I was nineteen and was dating another older black woman who was thirty-three, I did not treat her like I did Mrs. Jennings.
Besides the fact that I was only seventeen and she was thirty-seven, she was my teacher, and she was married; our relationship was perverse in other ways. There were times when we had intimate, passionate love-making nights that were very satisfying for both of us; times we showed endearing affection for one another, or times we would cuddle and have conversations to talk about each other’s lives. Most of the time we had sex it was rough and debasing.
For me it was perverse and unhealthy in the way I treated her when we fucked. The way I wanted to treat her. I wanted to humiliate her, to fuck her rough and hard, and degrade her. It was not that I did not respect Mrs. Jennings. I had a lot of respect for her as a woman, and a teacher, and even though she was committing a perverse and sinful act with me I respected her religious morals. I just did not show her that respect when it came to us having sex.
For Mrs. Jennings, the relationship was perverse and unhealthy not only for her cheating on her husband, having sex with one of her students who was only seventeen, and going against her religious beliefs; but for the way she allowed me to treat her and that she got aroused and enjoyed the way I treated her. How she played her game of acting like she did not want to be treated the way I treated her, that she felt humiliated and degraded, and she would often tell me I made her do the things I did to her. She got off on those things and her play-acting. She got extremely aroused when I dominated her and treated her the way I did, she got off on how I humiliated her with my actions and words. She wanted to be my older black woman whore.
All that week I did not see much of Mrs. Jennings at school besides in passing except on Wednesday when she was our study hall teacher. After the study hall ended and on my way out of the classroom, I dropped a note on her desk and left before I saw her read it. The note told her to dress sexy for me and to wear pantyhose and no panties under them for when I came over Friday night. I added a P.S. that told her to have her full black lips ready to wrap around my white cock.
After our practice on Friday, I went home, took a shower, put on a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, and wore my letterman jacket. It was near the end of October and a cold snap came through our area and was chilly outside. I told my mother I was spending the night at a friend’s house.
On the way to Mrs. Jennings, I stopped at the grocery store close to my house and bought a tube of KY jelly. Back in 1983, stores did not sell all the various sexual lubricants they have nowadays. I bought the lube because I was going to fuck Mrs. Jennings in her asshole, or at least try to.
The store had a small floral department and I had enough money left of the small amount I borrowed from my mother to buy a small flower arrangement. I may have been an asshole and enjoyed degrading Mrs. Jennings sexually, but I did have manners and my old fashion grandfather had told me never to show up at a girl’s door for a date without bringing her flowers. I drove to Mrs. Jennings’s house using the directions she gave me.
It was dark when I left my apartment because of the time change and when I pulled into her driveway I saw that she had left the garage door open for me. I pulled into the garage and saw Mrs. Jennings come out of the door that lead from her house to the garage and she pressed a button on the wall to close the garage door. I got out of my car. I put the flowers and the small, brown paper bag behind my back. Stores back then did not use plastic bags.
“Did anyone see you?” Mrs. Jennings asked as she stood in the doorway. I could tell she was tense and nervous.
“No,” I answered. I didn’t know if any of her neighbors saw me drive up or not and I didn’t care.
The older, black woman stood in the doorway waiting for me. Mrs. Jennings was wearing a red, short-sleeve button-up blouse that was tight across her chest and she had left three top buttons free. The tightness of the blouse and having it unbuttoned showed off her ample breasts and I could see the top of a black lace bra she wore under it. The skirt she was wearing was black and tight and a mini skirt. Something she never would have worn before and came above her knees to show off her thighs. I noticed she was wearing black tinted pantyhose. She was wearing higher heels than she normally wore.
Mrs. Jennings was also wearing more makeup than she normally wore and instead of her regular color lipstick she was wearing red lipstick on her large full lips. Her makeup was not overdone or slutty looking but looked as if applied as if she was a woman going to a club and she had used mascara on her eyelashes to make them appear longer and fuller. I had never seen her wear mascara on her eyelashes before. I liked how she did her makeup.
The clothes the older black woman wore and the way she applied her makeup was not in her normal conservative style and she looked sexy, but it was how she styled her hair I liked the best. It was pulled tight against her head to form a bun on top of her head. Her hair was slicked back and held into place by a shiny hair product. As I mentioned and while I felt differently, the black woman would not be considered some hot or a really attractive woman by most men. Even those men would have to admit that the way she looked that Saturday evening; while no great beauty, Mrs. Jennings looked sexy and alluring.
When I got to her she threw her arms around my neck and started kissing my lips. I put my arms around her waist and kissed her back and soon our tongues entered each other’s mouths.
“I like what you are wearing,” I told her after I broke the kiss and pushed her back a little to look at her face and body.
My teacher smiled at my approval of her outfit. “I bought it all for you.” She looked down at her feet. “I…I hope it’s sexy enough for you.”
I cupped her chin and lifted her head and brushed my lips over hers. “Yes, you look sexy. I like the red lipstick and your makeup.” She smiled again. I liked that she wanted my approval on the way she looked.
Holding the bag and flowers in my left hand, I brought my right hand up and used my thumb to wipe away some of the lipstick around her mouth that smeared when we kissed.
“You didn’t have to buy anything new,” I told her. “What if your husband finds out?”
Mrs. Jennings had told me that her husband controlled all the finances. They had joint bank accounts for saving and checking. Mr. Jennings paid all the bills and went over their expenses every month and balanced their accounts. He gave her a monthly allowance to buy household items such as groceries and also gave her a monthly allowance for her personal use for clothes and other items she needed. I did not know the amount she got, was none of my business.
Her husband controlling the money was just more proof of how subservient she was to him in their marriage. Her using her allowance to buy some new clothes and her wanting my approval on how she looked was just more proof of how subservient she was to me as her lover.
“I didn’t spend much on them,” the woman told me. “I bought everything at K-mart so they were not expensive. But it’s sweet of you to worry about me.” She looked at her feet and blushed.
I did not care if Mr. Jennings knew how his wife spent her money or was worried about him getting angry at her. I was concerned if he found out she was cheating on him, I would no longer get to fuck her. At seventeen, I had three priorities in life; playing football, scoring high enough on the SATs that I can get the scholarship I wanted to go to the college I wanted, and fucking my married black teacher like she was a cheap, street corner whore.
I cupped her chin with my right hand and lifted her head to make her look me in the eyes. “I love what you did to your hair.” I did like her hair that way. With it pulled back tight and wet and shiny looking from the hair product, the hairstyle made Mrs. Jennings’s racial features of her face more prominent.
She gave me a toothy smile. “Thank you, darling. I left school early today and went to the salon to have it done.” I liked when she called me darling.
I kissed her lips, just brushing my over hers, and pulled my head back and looked down at her. Mrs. Jennings had her eyes closed and her large lips were slightly parted in anticipation of my mouth and tongue. When she realized I was not going to kiss her again, the black woman cleared her throat and opened her eyes.
“Well, I bought these for you,” I showed her the flowers.
“Oh, Patrick! That is so sweet. Thank you.”
“You are welcome. I am glad you like them.”
“I made dinner for you,” she told me as she took my hand and led me into the house.
“I already ate.”
Mrs. Jennings stopped in the den of her house and let go of my hand and turned to me. “I…I thought we could have a nice dinner.” The look on her face was one of disappointment and even sadness.
I kissed her cheek. “I didn’t eat much and I can eat again.” See I was not a total asshole.
She gave me a large smile and again took my hand and led me into the kitchen. As I walked behind her, I kept my eyes on her plump ass and noticed that the pantyhose she wore had a black seam running up the back of her legs. Sexy, I thought.
The food she cooked did smell good. I didn’t lie about eating just a little before I came over to her house. I did only eat a small amount of dinner because I did not want to feel full when I fucked her that night.
She gave me a quick tour of the house, I placed the brown paper bag that contained the KY on an end table in the living room. Mrs. Jennings did not notice. I was not hiding it from her and if she would have seen it and asked what it was I would have told her. There was no reason to keep it hidden. She was going to find out later that night what it was and used for.
The house was nice. It was designed that when you walked from the garage you walked into a large living area, off of that was a dining area and the kitchen, and opposite the door to the garage was a long hallway. There were two bedrooms on the left of the hallway, the right was a bathroom and at the far end of the hallways was the master bedroom that had a bathroom attached. One bedroom was turned into a home office and contained two exercise machines. I assumed she was the one who used them because her husband looked as if the only exercise he got was shoving donuts into his face. Mrs. Jennings blushed when she told me she put fresh sheets on the bed in the guest bedroom. The door to the master bedroom was closed and Mrs. Jennings did not open it to show me the inside.
I found that curious and then it dawned on me. Her mentioning she put fresh sheets on the bed in the guest bedroom and not showing me the master bedroom was because she had no intention of us being in there and her getting fucked by another man on the bed she shared with her husband. I found it amusing and she was mistaken. She then led me back to the dining room.
She had set the table in the small dining area and got a vase and put the flowers I gave her on the table. She told me to sit down on one of the four chairs. I noticed she did not set the table using the head of the table. While Mrs. Jennings was in the kitchen looking after our dinner, I moved a set of dishes and flatware to the head of the table and in the chair that had arms attached.
I knew it was where her husband sat and for some reason, Mrs. Jennings did not want me to sit there. Like a male lion, I was taking over the lioness of a weaker, male lion and marking my territory. I would do other things that night and other nights in their home to claim my dominance over another man’s wife.
I asked if I could help but she told me no. When she brought a serving plate of food into the dining room, Mrs. Jennings looked at me sitting in her husband’s chair and I could have sworn I saw her body stiffen a little. She did not say anything, however, and sat the food on the table and went back into the kitchen to get the other food she had cooked.
Once she had all the food on the table, she dished out portions on my plate and filled my salad bowl. She seemed as giddy as a school girl and I could tell she enjoyed that she cooked for me and served me dinner. It was yet another show of her subservience to a man in her life. After she served me, Mrs. Jennings sat down on my right.
She had made a very good chicken dish and she told me it was Chicken Marsala. At that time in my life, I had no clue what Chicken Marsala was. My mother did not make a lot of money and I grew up very humble when it came to financial matters. My mother worked hard and as much overtime as she could and we did not have many sit-down meals with one another. Even though my mother was a very good cook, when she did have time to cook, normally it was prepared box foods like Hamburger Helper or she would add ground beef to a jar of tomato sauce, boil pasta and we had spaghetti. When we went over to my grandparents’ to eat both my mother and grandmother would cook and it was southern foods or I would help my grandfather on the grill.
Mrs. Jennings made steamed green beans as well that were seasoned very deliciously. I would have eaten a lot more than I did because the food was that good, but I only ate a little because I still did not want to have that full belly feeling later when I fucked the older black woman. I also noticed she did not eat much either and picked at her food. She looked like she was nervous.
During our dinner conversation, Mrs. Jennings appeared nervous in the way she talked as well. I didn’t know if she was nervous because she thought someone would know I came over to her house or if she was nervous about what she was thinking of what I was going to do to her sexually. Maybe she was regretting that she wanted to and agreed to be a whore for me. I hoped she was not worried I was going to hurt her. I was not going to do that or anything she did not want me to do.
That was a lie in a way. I was not going to do anything to her she did not want to do after I attempted them and if she told me to stop then I would stop. My telling her I was not going to hurt her was a lie also. Some of the fun I had planned would hurt her but again if she told me to stop I would stop.
When I was done eating, I stood up and walked behind Mrs. Jennings’s chair as her eyes followed me. She flinched when I gently placed my hands on her shoulders. She kept her head facing in front of her and her hands in her lap as I ran my hands down the front of her body. I ran my hands under her shirt and then under her bra until my fingers touched her nipples. Mrs. Jennings inhaled deeply and placed her hands on the edge of the table. I leaned my head down and placed my lips on her ears.
“Don’t be afraid, Mrs. Jennings, you are going to enjoy tonight as much as I am,” I whispered in her ear. “We have all night to have our fun and won’t be rushed by time.”
She did not say anything but nodded her head and then gasped out when I started to fondle her erect nipples. She closed her eyes and made soft moans as I rolled her dark nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. Her hands gripped the edge of the table.
“Feels nice doesn’t it?” I asked
“Yes… umm feels very nice, darling.”
I put more pressure on her nipples with my fingers but did not pinch them to hurt her. I kissed the back of her neck, then kissed the right side of her neck, and then the left. Mrs. Jennings was making pleasant whimpering sounds.
“I am going to fuck your black pussy so hard and so many times tonight,” I whispered in her ear and she gasped. “Would you like that?”
The older black woman tilted her head back and to the left as an invitation for me to continue kissing it. I accepted her invitation and kissed and sucked her neck, being careful not to leave a mark. I thought about leaving a hickey or two on her neck, but that would have gone a little too far and questions would be asked by others. There were other parts of her body I could mark my territory on.
I ran my tongue over her neck, tasting her skin, around to the back of her neck, and then started kissing and sucking the other side. Mrs. Jennings was panting and whimpering and squirming in her chair. I enjoyed her whimpers of pleasure. Mrs. Jennings’s foreplay and sex sound aroused me.
“Would you like that?” I asked her after she did not answer the first time. I wanted to hear her say it. “Would you like me to fuck that old, black pussy with my young, big, white cock all night long?”
I did purposely refer to our age differences as well as the difference in our skin color. While my crude comments about the difference in our race still embarrassed Mrs. Jennings, she was used to it. The comment about her age was something new I wanted to do that night to try and humiliate her even more.
“Yes,” Mrs. Jennings moaned out.
I started nibbling on her ear and then pinched her erect, dark nipples a little harder. She gasped out from my attention to her ears and then gave a loud whimper from my pinching her nipples. She liked her ears kissed and sucked and nibbled on. “Yes, what?” I whispered.
“Yes, I want you to make love to me all night long,” she answered.
I pinched her nipples even harder and she made a squealing sound. “That’s not what I said. I am not going to make love to you; I am going to fuck you.”
I felt the older woman’s black body wince when I told her that and stopped pinching her nipples and started to caress them between my fingers. “Are you afraid of what I am going to do to you?
“A, a little,” Mrs. Jennings admitted as she nodded her head.
“Do you think if I do something you don’t enjoy I will not stop?”
Mrs. Jennings hesitated a couple of seconds and then shook her head. “No.”
“Do you think you are going to enjoy it and it will give you pleasure?”
Mrs. Jennings nodded her head.
“Then why are you afraid?” I asked sincerely.
Mrs. Jennings turned her head and looked at me. “I, I, I’m afraid I will enjoy it too much and that frightens me because I should not enjoy it or even the thought of it.”
I smiled and brought my right hand up and caressed her cheek. “Just remember your promise in the car. You promised to be my whore and at least try new things. I will stop if you don’t like them, but you have to give it a chance and even if you think it’s wrong but feels good you should just enjoy how good it makes you feel and don’t stop or be afraid of it. Whatever I may do to you and with you tonight or have you do; you should embrace and enjoy the pleasure not run from it, no matter how immoral or taboo you may think it is.”
“I know what I said and I promised,” she said in a sharp tone.
Mrs. Jennings turned her body in the chair to face me, reached up, and put her arms around my neck, I leaned down, and she kissed me with a fierce passion.
“When did you get so eloquent?” she teased.
“I had a good tutor.”
She laughed and I could see she relaxed some.
“I would like to clean the kitchen if that is okay with you?” Mrs. Jennings asked my permission. “It will not take long and you can go sit on the couch and watch some TV.”
“Sure.” I held out my hand and helped her stand. I watched as she pulled her bra over her breasts and then started to clear the table.
“Do you need help?” I offered.
She smiled at me. “No, dear, I have this. You just go sit on the sofa and make yourself at home.”
I was not used to having a woman do things for me. My mother would never allow me to stand by and watch or go watch TV when the kitchen needed cleaning. She would tell me that she cooked so I cleaned.
“After you are done with the kitchen, fix your lipstick. I liked the red lipstick. It’s sexy on your large, full lips and I want to see how they look with that lipstick when you suck my cock later,” I told her as she walked to the kitchen. She didn’t turn around or look back at me but I saw her wince at my crude comment.
I went into the living room and it was not lost on me that Mr. Jennings told me two times to sit on the sofa. Like her husband’s dining room chair, did she not want me sitting in his large leather recliner. I picked the bag containing the lubricant off the sofa, put it on the end table next to the recliner, and sat in her husband’s chair. I was going to be the king of the castle that night. I did not bother to turn on the TV.
It did not take long for the older woman to clean the kitchen and when she walked into the room, she looked at the sofa and then at me and gave a little frown but did not ask me to move or say anything about it. She had reapplied her red lipstick.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked instead.
I grinned at her. “No. All I want right now is you. Come here.”
She blushed but smiled and walked over to me and stood in front of me. I leaned forward and reached out and put my hands on her butt and pulled her on top of me. Mrs. Jennings giggled as I pulled her to my lap. I guess she no longer cared I was sitting in her husband’s recliner. As she straddled me, I lifted her skirt hem above her butt and ran my hands over her ass cheeks. I could feel that she did as I asked in the note I gave her and was not wearing panties under her pantyhose.
When we started kissing, I tried to be sensual and gentle and wanted to tease her lips with my tongue and mouth, but Mrs. Jennings was not having that. She kissed me with fierce passion and intensity as she pressed her mouth on mine and parted her lips and pushed her tongue into my mouth. As we kissed, Mrs. Jennings moved her hips to grind herself over my cock, which had been erect since I left my house.
My older, black teacher had initiated sex a few times when she came over to my apartment to tutor me, but it was always telling me we were done with the session and asking me in a timid voice to take her to my bedroom. She had never been as aggressive as she was with me that first night at her house. I liked it and let her continue being the aggressor, at least at the start.
“I missed this,” she whispered in my ear after she started kissing my neck.
“Was your fault for getting mad at the magazines,” I reminded her.
She stopped kissing me and leaned back with her arms around my neck. “They were filthy magazines and disgusting.”
“What did you do with them?” I asked.
“I threw them in the trash, in the dumpster at your apartments. That’s where they belonged.”
I shrugged. “Well I guess I can always get new ones,” I told her. “Maybe buy some with black women in them. You made me very fond of black pussy. I would like to see what young black pussy looks like as opposed to your old one.”
Mrs. Jennings looked like she wanted to slap me, but she did not get off of me and kept her arms around my neck. “That was very mean,” she told me. She did not sound as mad as she looked.
”It was and I should say I am sorry, but I like your old black pussy. It’s still tight because you never had it fucked as I fuck it.” I then grinned at her.
Mrs. Jennings rolled her eyes. “You are impossible.”
I chuckled and ran my hands to the middle of her back and pulled her to me and she started kissing my neck. Mrs. Jennings ran her tongue over my ear.
“I know you like my old black pussy,” she whispered, “or you wouldn’t be here but instead with one of your teenage, white whores.” She then giggled.
I was taken back a moment. I had never heard her say anything like that and never heard her say the word pussy unless I made her when I was fucking her. It was sexy to hear her talk dirty to me without me encouraging it. Plus, she did have a point; I did like her pussy, and fucking her over the girls my age I could have fucked. I never told Mrs. Jennings, but when she and I were having our affair, I never fucked another girl.
I could have and she always thought I did and would often accuse me of it. I never lied and told her I was fucking another girl, but I let her assume it because I mostly found her amusing except for the few times she got out of control with it and then it made me mad. I also discovered when she thought I was fucking a girl my age, she was more willing to do some rather kinky things with me and she would initiate sex with me. As our relationship progressed and she thought I was fucking another girl, she would surprise me by wanting me to fuck her or give me a blowjob at some very unexpected places which I will elaborate in later chapters.
“I’m glad I’m here,” I admitted.
Mrs. Jennings leaned back again and smiled. “I am also. It’s nice that you are going to spend the night. It excites me,” she said.
“I want to come over tomorrow night also.”
She smiled larger. “I would like that, but you told me you had plans.”
“I thought about and thought would I prefer to go over to a woman’s house and fuck her or hang out with my friends and talk about fucking someone. I would rather do it than talk about it.”
“You, you didn’t tell anyone about us, did you? You didn’t tell your friends, did you?” she asked in a concerned tone.
“No, of course not,” I assured her.
That was a lie; I did tell two of my friends who did not go to the same school I did that I was fucking my thirty-seven-year-old, black teacher. They didn’t believe me. If I had been in today’s times I would have taken photos of Mrs. Jennings posing naked for me and even me fucking her or her sucking my cock to show them, but in nineteen eighty-three we did not have access to the digital recording devices we have today.
I thought about borrowing my mother’s Polaroid Instant camera to take photos of her but knew she would not let me. Later, as our affair progressed, and I became aware of her submissive need to please me and her desire for me to treat her like a whore, I took advantage of her desire and subservient nature and did use the instant camera with her.
Mrs. Jennings was relieved when I told her I did not tell anyone and also excited I wanted to spend the next night with her as well. She started kissing me again with intense passion. As she kissed me, I wondered how excited and willing she would be for me to spend two nights with her after what I had planned on doing with her the first night.
I was done with letting Mrs. Jennings be the aggressor, it was sexy for a while but now I needed to show her who was in charge. I started kissing her neck and she tilted her head back and moaned. My hands moved back down to her ample ass cheeks and I squeezed them hard. The older black woman let out a series of squeaking whimpers when I started kissing and licking her ears.
“I want you to suck my cock,” I told her.
“Ohh, can, can, ohh, that feels so good, please, baby, let’s go to the bedroom,” she gasped out.
I wanted to pull her head back by her hair, but I did not want to mess up her hairstyle and bun. I liked the way she did her hair that night and wanted it to stay in place while she sucked my dick and then had some fun with her body. I could muss it up and pull her hair later. Instead, I attacked her ear with my mouth and tongue and Mrs. Jennings moaned out loudly.
“No. I want you to suck me off right here.”
The older woman pulled back once again and stared into my eyes. I stared back and it was a battle of will and desire for a few seconds. I knew she did not want to suck my cock while I was sitting in her husband’s chair. It was like a standoff between her desire for me or her wanting to have some type of respect for her marriage vows, even if her not giving me a blowjob while I was sitting in her husband’s recliner was just a tiny gesture of her honoring her vows.
“Ok,” she gave in with a sigh. Her lust for me won out.
I had to smirk. That was all it took to claim her. I was now the king of her jungle and not her husband and this black lioness was mine. Mrs. Jennings got off of my lap and then got on her knees in front of me. She looked at my crotch and then back at me and then back at my crotch and I then helped her unbuckle my belt, pull down my jeans, and then my underwear to my ankles. My nine-and-a-half-inch white cock was free and erect.
“Can, can you take off your shirt?” she asked shyly. “I like looking at your chest.”
“Yes, and you take off yours and your bra. I like looking at your black tits and huge dark nipples,” I told her and removed my shirt and tossed it on the floor.
Mrs. Jennings removed her blouse and then lacey, sheer bra. Once her breasts were exposed, she crossed her arms across her chest to cover them up. I shook my head and the older woman lowered her arms and put them to her sides and exposed her tits to me. She was still shy about me seeing her breasts, and other parts of her body, but no longer protested or hesitated when I told her to show them to me.
Once when in my bed after we had sex, I asked her why she always tried to hide them, especially after I had seen them many times. She told me because they were not as firm and perky as the teenage girls I had sex with. She told me she knew they are not as pretty as the other girls’ and was ashamed of the few stretch marks on them. I assured her I loved her tits and especially her dark nipples and huge areolas. I also suspected she liked to coax compliments about her body out of me as well.
The older woman took my white cock in her black hands and started to run her fingers up and down my shaft as she stared at my erect penis. She may have been timid about me looking at her body, but she had no shyness when it came to looking at or touching my cock.
“Wait,” I told her. “You lipstick got smeared and rubbed off. Go put some more on. I told you I wanted to see those sexy big lips painted red as you sucked my cock.”
Mrs. Jennings looked up at me. “But my lipstick is in my bathroom,” she protested.
“I don’t care. I am not going anywhere.”
Mrs. Jennings picked up her blouse off the floor, stood up, and started to put it on.
“No, you don’t need to do that,” I told her.
She dropped the blouse and walked out of the room. She came back into the room with her tits bare, her lips painted red with fresh lipstick, and she was holding the lipstick tube in her hand. She walked to me, placed the lipstick on the nightstand next to the chair and got back down on her knees, and once again took my cock in her hand.
“Put it in your mouth, but go slow at first. I want you to enjoy it. Enjoy how it smells and tastes and I want to enjoy the sight of your thick red lips around my white cock,” I told her.
Mrs. Jennings lowered her head, opened her mouth, and started to give me the second blowjob she had ever given. I was disappointed she did not tell me how crude I was or complain about my being vulgar. Maybe she was getting used to my comments. I needed to step up my game that night to make sure I made her feel humiliated.
Mrs. Jennings sucked my cock at a slow pace like I told her and was still tentative about it. I understood why, it was only the second time she ever sucked a cock and my dick was larger than average in both length and girth. She only took about three inches of my cock in her mouth and then back up until only the head of my cock was in her mouth and then back down. I let her take her time. I was enjoying how her large, full red painted lips puckered around my white penis, her muffled whimpers, and how she would gag when it went too far down her throat. I found her inexperience in sucking cock amusing. She was the first person who had ever given me a blowjob that was not experienced with it. The way her face had both a look of distress at taking a large cock in her mouth and the look of concentration she had. She looked very focused to make sure I enjoyed what she was doing.
“You like that, don’t you?” I asked when she took her mouth off of me to catch her breath and relax her jaw. “You like my dick in your mouth, don’t you?”
Mrs. Jennings looked up at me and was about to say something but then hesitated and gave me a half-smile. “Yes. It feels very nice in my mouth,” she admitted, “but it’s hard to keep doing because it’s so big.” As she was talking she kept running her hands up and down my shaft. Mrs. Jennings looked at my penis. “Do I have to keep doing it until you finish like in the car?”
I chuckled, “Yes, and don’t say you don’t want to. You know damn well you liked tasting and swallowing my cum.”
Mrs. Jennings did not deny it and when she started to lower her head again I reached down and cupped her chin in my hand and lifted her head to look at me.
“You do like it don’t you?” I asked. “You liked when I came in your mouth didn’t you?”
Mrs. Jennings swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Tell me what you liked about it.”
The older woman gave me a pleading look. “Patrick, please don’t. Please be nice to me tonight.”
“But you agreed to be my whore tonight, remember. Men aren’t nice to whores,” I told her. “Maybe tomorrow night I will be nice to you. Don’t you want to be my whore tonight?”
She hesitated again for a few seconds, bit her lower lip, and nodded her head.
“Tell me you. I want to hear it.”
“Yes, I want to be your whore tonight.”
“Did you think about being a whore today? Did it make that fat, black pussy wet?” I taunted her.
“Baby, please. Please don’t,” she whined.
“Answer me with the truth. You tell me the truth and if you tell the truth and say no then I will stop. I will be nice and instead of you being a whore for me and we can pretend we are boyfriend and girlfriend and have a nice romantic evening,” I said with sincerity. “I enjoy us together and I find you attractive and sexy and enjoy fucking you as much as I enjoy when we are more intimate and passionate and romantic.”
Mrs. Jennings looked at me and then down but not at my penis but at the floor and she had a look of shame on her face. I waited for several seconds and then she looked up at me and again bit her lower lip.
“Yes, I thought about it and, yes, it aroused me and, yes, I want to be a whore for you tonight,” she admitted. The tone of her voice was not embarrassment or shameful or timid, but she sounded very assured of herself and her answer.
I smiled. I got her consent to treat her like a whore and also got her to admit she wanted me to treat her like one and confirmed what I suspected about my black teacher; she enjoyed it when I treated her like one. I gave her an option and even an out of her promise to be a whore for me, but she refused to take it because she wanted it just as much as I did. The next night when I would come over we could be romantic and intimate; but not that night.
“Now tell me what you liked about me cumming in your mouth,” I told her again.
“I, I, I liked the way it felt when it went in my mouth and how warm and sticky and thick it was,” she told me, her voice once again timid and embarrassed sounding. “I liked the way it tasted.”
I laughed at her. I found her answer sexy and not funny but I wanted her to feel humiliated so I faked the laugh. “I am glad you liked it and you swallow enough if it then you can call yourself a proper black cum slut for white cock. Now, put it back in your mouth.”
I gave Mrs. Jennings verbal instructions on how to give me a low job and what I liked. I told her to run her tongue over the head of my cock when it was in her mouth, to use her hand on the shaft to stroke it, to try and take more of it down her throat. I told her to swallow with my dick down her throat and enjoyed the sensation it gave me. I told her just to go down a little more. She did what I instructed and was able to take about another inch before she started gagging again. She gagged and retched and pulled her head back.
“I, I am sorry. It was just too much,” she whined. “Can I just do it as I did in the car and not take so much of it? I liked it that way. It was fun.”
“No, we need to teach you how to take more cock down your throat. I told you we need to teach you to be a proper whore for me and whores know how to suck cock.”
“Baby, please. I really can’t without choking,” Mrs. Jennings pleaded in a whiney voice.
“Maybe we need to get you another white cock to practice on,” I teased her. “A smaller one so we can train you to be a white, cock sucking black slut. I have some friends who would enjoy getting a blowjob from an old black whore.”
“Have you ever done that?” she asked in a jealous but also a curious tone.
“Yes,” I told her the truth. “My friend Michael and I fucked a girl together.”
“I don’t want to do that.”
I thought it was interesting that she said she did not want to do that and not that she would not do that. I don’t know if she was that naive or if she thought I would make her suck another boy’s dick. Yes, I fantasized about her getting fucked by another young white boy while I watched and then joined in, but I was not going to make her do it or do anything she did not consent to.
As if she accepted her fate of being a whore that Friday night, Mrs. Jennings once again started sucking my cock. I had, had a lot of patients and self-control so far that evening, but I was at my limit, I was horny, and I wanted to cum.
I moved up to the edge of the recliner and placed my hand on the back of Mrs. Jennings’s head just behind the bun of hair and pushed her head down. She gagged as I forced her to take more of my cock in her mouth and tried to lift her head but I held it in place. I made her take more of my cock down her throat, she placed her hands on my knees and tried to push herself free but I would not let her. She gagged and choked and gobs of spit came out of her mouth and covered my shaft. I let her pull her head back some and then pushed it back down. Mrs. Jennings made loud muffled whimpers between her gagging and choking sounds.
When I let go of her head, the black woman pulled herself back and coughed and gagged and retched a couple of times as she gasped for air. Once she caught her breath, I thought she would tell me to stop, but Mrs. Jennings shocked me by putting her mouth on my cock again. She did not complain about my treatment of her at all. I found that encouraging.
I let her control the blowjob for a while and was pleased to see her try and take more of my cock in her mouth. She managed and seemed to be a quick learner. After several moments, I again grabbed the back of her head and pushed her down again. Again she gagged, choked, and saliva drooled out of her mouth. When I let her go of her head, she again took my cock out of her mouth to catch her breath. Again she gagged and coughed and she had her spit running down her chin and onto her tits. She also had tears in her eyes this time.
“Spit on it,” I told her.
The black woman spat on my cock twice and then again went back to sucking my dick. She bobbed her head up and down faster and even managed to take more of me in her mouth. She did gag a few times but she did not stop.
“Use your hands,” I told her. “Spit on it more and use your hands to jerk me off while you suck it.”
Mrs. Jennings spit on my cock, used her hands on my shaft, and started sucking me faster. As she gave me a blowjob she would let her spit drool out of her mouth to lubricate my shaft. She was making muffled moans and wet sucking sounds as she sucked my cock harder.
I was about to cum and instead of coming in her mouth, I pushed her off of me and stood up in front of her, and started jerking my cock. Mrs. Jennings gave me a confused look.
“Get closer and open your mouth,” I moaned out.
Mrs. Jennings did not move but looked up at me with the look of confusion still on her face.
I was very close to cumming so I reached out with my free hand and grabbed her head just above the back of her neck and pulled her to me hard. She fell on her hands and knees and crawled closer.
“Uhhgh, fuck, I am going to cum,” I grunted. “Hurry the fuck up and put your face close to my cock and open your fucking mouth.”
She moved closer and stood up higher on her knees. She placed her face an inch from my cock and opened her mouth.
“Stick out your tongue. Hurry your fucking black whore,” I told her. My tone sounded angry but I was not angry, I was just so close to cumming and wanted her to hurry up before I lost it and had an orgasm.
Mrs. Jennings stuck out her tongue and rested it on her lower lip. She was so naïve about a lot of sexual acts and she had no idea what I was going to do. She had rested her hands on her thighs as she kneeled in front of me, her mouth open, her tongue out, looking up at me with a confused expression as I jerked my cock close to her face.
When I came, I grunted and moaned and aimed my cum not at her mouth but at her face. The last time I had an orgasm was the Sunday five days before that night and I had not masturbated to make that night better. My cum was abundant and thick. Mrs. Jennings didn’t move as my thick, sticky, white cum splashed on her black face. She did flinch each time a load hit her.
I kept my eyes open as long as possible to watch my cum shoot on the older black woman’s face but closed them at the end of my orgasm. After I was finished, I opened my eyes and looked down at Mrs. Jennings.
My teacher was still kneeling in front of me and still had her tongue out, and her eyes were closed. She had thick, white, sticky cum all over her face and some in her hair where it was pulled tight at her forehead. There were string-like lines of cum splattered over her face. Mrs. Jennings started running her tongue around her lips to lick up what cum had landed near her thick lips. Damn it was sexy.
I sat back down on the recliner and the older woman started to get to her feet. “Where are you going?” I asked.
“To wash my face.”
“No I like you the way you are, but I will get you a cloth to wipe around your eyes.”
Mrs. Jennings got back on her knees as I stood up and removed my shoes and socks and pulled my jeans and underwear from around my ankles so I was naked. I reached down and took her arms in my hands and helped her to her feet.
“Take off your skirt,” I told her.
Mrs. Jennings lifted her leg to remove one of her heals.
“No just the skirt. I want you to keep your shoes on.”
The woman unzipped her skirt and it fell to her feet. She stood before me in just her pantyhose and with a cum drenched face.
“Get on your knees on the chair and face the back of the chair and wait for me,” I told her.
Mrs. Jennings did as I told her and I went to the bathroom, got a washcloth, and ran warm water on it to get it damp. When I walked back into the living room, Mrs. Jennings was still in the chair and was running her fingers over her face, gathering up some of my cum in her fingers, and then licking them. When she noticed I was back in the room, she lowered her hands and looked over her shoulder. Her expression looked like that of a child getting caught with his hands in the cookie jar.
“Can’t get enough?” I teased her. “Don’t worry, there is plenty more where that came from.”
Mrs. Jennings blushed. I walked over to her and wiped around her eyes, making sure I left cum on the rest of her face and tossed the cloth to the floor.
“Do you want me to put some more lipstick on?” she asked me.
“No, we are done with that, but stick your ass up. I want to see that big, black ass now. It’s time for you to be played with before I fuck you.”
