Coffee With the Cream on Top

COFFFEE WITH THE CREAM ON TOP

We were on our way back home after an away match. Irene and I had won our mixed doubles game 6-4, 6-2, and were pretty chaffed with ourselves. We sat right at the back in the Toyota Coaster, she was leaning against my chest, her eyes closed, but I noticed that she was smiling softly.

The first time I clapped eyes on her was in our student cafeteria. It was high summer, and she was dressed in a loose-hanging cream-coloured tank top and a pair of butt-hugging faded blue denim shorts. Not even the tank-top could hide the fact that she was stacked, and that she was wearing a soft bra - or maybe no bra? - because I could discern the nipples. No surprise, I sprang an instant boner, because I have this weakness for well-stacked honey blondes. I gathered that she must be a first year student, and new to the layout of the cafeteria, because she was looking around.

Had I been a real Don Juan I would have sidled up to her right there and then to say, 'Hi, I'm Craig. Can I perhaps help you?' But I'm not Don Juan, nor even his sidekick, and moreover, she was cream and I was coffee. Since '94 the old racial barriers have come down slowly, but if you move around in the white suburbs, you are constantly reminded that you are 'coloured'. I guess that is because black and white are not considered colours, eh?

However, I did venture closer and caught her eye. She smiled briefly and I smiled back, but then she turned around, selected an egg sandwich and queued up to pay for it. By the time I came to the cashier she had already left. For the rest of the day I carried three images of her around: first those boobs, then the fleeting smile, and then that beautiful round butt as she walked away, seesawing. That should have told me that she was an athlete of sorts, but being more carnally minded, my thoughts were on her love triangle.

Three days later we met at the tennis club and I could say, 'Hi, I'm Craig. Pleased to meet you.'

She took my hand, saying, 'I'm Irene. I'm new here. Where do we register, Craig?'

Some people pronounce my name 'Craick' or even 'Crack', but it rolled off her tongue like oil. I took charge, got her registered, discovered that she had been the girl's tennis champion at her school the previous year, and was doing Graphic Design. I was doing Electronic Engineering, but I considered changing to GD right there and then!

That was three weeks ago, and here she was leaning against my chest, making it real hard for me, if you get my drift. She was wearing a track suit over her very skimpy tennis outfit - which was part of the reason why my opposite number could not keep his eye on the ball, and his partner became upset with him, Our teammates were in their cups because of our overall victory, singing ribald songs, which was interrupted by Bernie who started reciting the Bishop of Birmingham limerick series, which had everyone cheering! Irene licked her lips and pulled down the zip of her tracksuit top, and the next moment she took my right hand and placed it on the left pyramid. O Jesus, man, that was so fucking hot! I moved my hand back and forth could feel them warming and swelling as I gently caressed them, and she started sighing - but then we arrived on campus and she had to zip up again. It was an invitation to make sports!

'How are you getting home?' I enquired.

'I was thinking of calling an uber, Craig...'

'I can give you lift on my bike, if you don't mind.'

'That would be nice, thanks. It's in Brunswick Road, Tamboers Kloof, if it is not too much out of your way.'

'No, that's fine. I'm in Kloof Street, Gardens, just around the corner, so to speak.'

She put on the extra helmet, swung her right leg over the bike, put her arms around my body, and pressed those hot pointers against my back, burning holes through to my heart and lungs. If it hadn't been for my jockstrap, my cock would have been beating against my chin! - Okay, I'm exaggerating, but I think you get my meaning. In fact, I wondered about swapping places with her so that I could ride to her home with my hands on her two glories and my cock riding in her bum cleft.

We stopped in the street and she said, 'Thanks for the lift, Craig. Would you like to come in? We can make dinner, if you want to.'

I didn't have any definite plans, and even if I had any, I would have changed them immediately. I said, 'That's fine by me, Irene. We can order a pizza, if you want to.' That should give me an hour with her, and who knows what can happen in an hour? Perhaps she would take off her top...?

She thought a bit about it, then said, 'Okay, that sounds good.'

Her 'spread', as she called it, was on the third floor. It was a bachelor apartment, big enough to swing a cat in, provided the cat has a short tail. It contained a single bed - no room for more, after all it was a bachelor's - a small desk, a plastic 'chest of drawers', and a built-in cupboard. The passage was just wide enough one person at a time; as the saying goes, you had to go outside to change your mind. The kitchenette was stuck in one corner and consisted of a bar fridge, a single washbasin, a double hotplate and a preparation area about half a metre square. The microwave was stuck to the wall, like the small TV screen.The bathroom had a handbasin, a toilet and a shower; you could sit on the toilet and wash your hands. They could have saved another square metre of space by putting the basin and the toilet inside the shower, of course. It would be good for a guy who's always in a hurry: he could shit, shower and shave all at once. I refrained from commenting.

She had the menu for a pizza joint nearby, we decided on a Hawaiian and I made the call: delivery within thirty minutes. Irene started getting out of her tracksuit and I was all eyes.. 'I think I'll take a quick shower while we wait.' Then she smiled lasciviously and added, 'You can soap me, if you want...'

I am not a religious, but if I were, I would have thanked that god for this! This was a dream come true! We were standing in the narrow space between the bed and the desk as she turned around and said, 'If you will unzip me, Craig.'

My hands were shaking and my boner was trying to break through the jockstrap! The zip went down all the way to the small of her back. I did that, moved the shoulder bands aside and the dress started sliding down her body. I had to help it a bit over her hips, but thereafter it followed Newton's Law of Gravity. The bra buckle was at the back, and I undid that, reached to the front and caught it just as it started to follow the dress to the floor. She took it from me and chucked it on the bed. I was mesmerised: I was suddenly standing with my hands on her globes, palpating them gently. They were real, and were responding. She turned slowly to face me, took the hem of my T-shirt and pulled it over my head. She was smiling now and her eyes were gleaming. She fumbled with the button at the top of my shorts, undid that, pulled down the zip, then the shorts as well. I was reduced to my jockstrap; she was standing in her bright pink scanty panties which had so unnerved the opposition.

'Shall we proceed?' she asked, but she was already tugging at the jockstrap. I got my hands into the top of her panties and slid them down her sides and over her thighs. She had more difficulty with my jockstrap because of my huge boner, and it didn't help that I was overwhelmed by the delicious aroma of her randy cunt, and by her naked globes now pressing against my chest.

'I see we have a situation here,' she said, tapping on the bulge.

'Yes,' I replied, 'I think I should have undressed first. You are driving me fucking crazy, Irene!'

'That is good. I can tell you the truth now, Craig. I've had the hots for you ever since we first met.'

'O God, so did I!' I ejaculated. 'But why me?'

'I'll explain later, but let me first do something which I have wanted to do weeks ago already.' With that, she went down on her haunches, pulled the jockstrap towards her and then down, thereby freeing my boner. She whistled through her teeth when it sprang free and said, 'Jesus Christ Almighty! I knew it would be big, but this is more than I expected!'

I shrugged. My dad was a Kenyan who had lodged with my coloured mom for a while, and I my thirteen inches was his legacy. Irene literally worshipped my cock! She ran her hands up and down the shaft, licked her full lips, kissed the head, tasted the pre-cum, and smiled broadly. 'We can go and shower now,' she said.

I picked her up and she put her arms around my neck and her legs around my middle. My prick was kissing her pussy now, and she was kissing it right back! We went into the shower like that, then she let go of me, pushed my back against the wall, and went down on her haunches. I was drooling copiously now. She spread the pre-cum over the glans and then took it in her mouth. Man, it was as though she was sucking on my backbone because I felt myself buckling under that ministry! - Now I was glad for the solid wall behind me. She knew what she was doing, though, working up the fever gradually; meanwhile, I was doubled up to reach her boobs, which had assumed the shape of outsize pears. The areolas were swollen and the nipples quite hard, but I knew that they would be very sensitive now, therefore I moistened my fingertips before encircling her nipples. Naturally, we were both getting pretty steamed up, close to the brink... Oh, God, I was dying slowly, deliciously! I wanted to hold back, but I didn't last long, not with her tongue and lips at the top, and her hands still running up and down the shaft. I was panting, tried to stop the flow, but in vain. I shot my bolt in five spurts. She took the first two in the mouth, then pointed my dick first at the left peak, then the right one, saying, 'I like the snow cap!' The fifth spurt landed in her cleavage and slowly rolled down to nestle in her navel.

She licked me clean, stood up, and said, 'Now for some rain!'

We stood outside the shower to adjust the hot and cold water properly, then stepped back in. I had the bath sponge, squeezed some shower gel onto it and started washing her. What a pleasant chore! I soaped her properly, then used my hands to wash her from top to bottom. I ran my finger down her bum cleft and through her pussy. Oh, Jesus man, that girl was hot! I went down on my knees before her to have a close look at what I had felt: her cunt lips were swollen with passion and the glans of the clit had popped out. I started eating that pussy, and she responded by fucking my tongue. Now she had to lean against the wall for support, with her legs spread. She gripped my head, pushed it in between her tits and excited them further that way.

She didn't let me finish eating her though. Instead, she shouted above the sound of the rushing water, 'Come, fuck me, Craig! I want that big fucking boner in my fucking box, fucking the hell out of me!'

Oh, I love it when a dame talks dirty like that! Then I know she is of the earth, not a religious freak on an occasional bender!

I went into her like greased lightning! Glory be to whatever process caused the development of a prick and a cunt, filled it with lust, and pointed them to each and announced, 'Go for it!' I shoved my whole thirteen inches up all the way up that delicious, hot and pulsing quim and started pumping furiously because she kept yelling, egging me on, and contracting and releasing her vaginal muscles, milking me. We didn't last long! I exploded in her and that was the trigger for her own extended orgasm. We screamed our pleasure and clung to one another while the warm water was washing over us, then I pulled out and started kissing her nipples. She was limp in my arms, trying to catch her breath.

The doorbell rang at that crucial moment. It was the pizza guy. I wrapped the hand towel around my loins and went to open the door, but as I reached out for the box, the towel fell. The next moment Irene came into the room, still clad in Mother Nature's outfit, off course, dripping water and cum! The guy did a doubletake at my dick, with the last drop of cum on my dickhead, then at the stacked blonde. I saw the colour leave his face. He had difficulty talking, just shoved the invoice into my hand. I paid him cash, adding a good tip, but he was still staring at Irene, gulping like a fish, and just managed to whisper, 'Jesus God! Daai tolle!' ['Those tops,' referring to the shape of the female breast which resembles a play top.] I said, 'Ja, man, daai tolle maak jou mal.' ['Yes, man, those tops drive you crazy!']

He left mumbling to himself. Irene started laughing and said, 'There's a guy who can't wait to toss off! He's had a real treat today!'

'Yes,' I said, grinning, 'he didn't even count the money.'

I went to fetch the bath towel to wrap around her, dried her completely, and then we sat on the bed and had the pizza. When that was finished, we dumped the box and spread out on the single bed, obviously very close! We were lusting for one another again, but needed to find the energy for a follow-up first, so we chatted.

I said, 'I've never had a white girl before, Irene. You're the very first, but now, I will gauge every other fuck against this one, and I think you will always be tops. You seem quite adept at this screwing business. Have you been at it for a long time now?'

She shook her head. 'Let me explain: my parents were divorced when I was six, because he was liberal-minded and she was very religious. She came out of a Pentecostal background, and that was how I was brought up, very religious in that same tradition. My dad had moved to Joh'burg after the divorce, but he came down once a year to spend a week or so with me. In my teens I realised that he had a different take on life, but we never talked religion until I went to visit him in Joh-burg last year October, for a change; he had paid my airfare. He was living in sin with a very nubile young black girl who walked around naked in the house, and I tried to reprimand him.

'He listened, then said, "Okay, Irene, I see where you are coming from. I respect your religion, so don't take this as a knock. It is just what I think, okay? When I married your mom, I was also quite religious, doing serious Bible study. Perhaps that was a mistake." I wondered what he was getting at, but kept quiet. He then explained that he had noticed several serious contradictions in the Bible. "I spoke to a lecturer in Biblical Studies, who lent me his copy of their textbook. The bottom line is, the whole Bible as far as I can see, is a myth. It was not God who had created man in his image, but man who had created his god in his image."

'I came away quite confused, because I was so steeped in my faith. Meanwhile I had become convinced that I was demon-possessed, so I went to my pastor to be exorcised. I explained to him that my box was always on fire and I had these erotic fantasies all the time. He examined me and ascertained that I really had a problem because my pussy was very smelly. "There is only one way to exorcise such a demon, dear, and that is by the Good Lord's anointing, like he did with Mary Magdalene. Fortunately, the Good Lord has anointed me to practise exorcism on ladies with this problem." With that, he opened his fly, took out his cock and told me to lean over his desk with my back towards him. I sensed that relief was coming when I felt him going in, and it was so: I got my first fuck and the burning subsided temporarily.

'I asked him whether this would suffice, but he shook his head. "No, I don't think so. The Holy Spirit has revealed to me that you are possessed by seven very tenacious demons, just like Mary Magdalene. My programme is rather full, but I think I can accommodate you on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, if that is convenient. We will see if there is any improvement, but sometimes the lady needs continuous treatment, like Jesus ministered to his beloved Mary Magdalene."

'My first session was on a Friday afternoon. The next Friday, halfway through our fourth session, his wife walked in on us: we were on the couch in his study and I had my legs around his neck so that he could reach deeper into me because the demon was sitting right at the top, he said. His wife had a rolling pin in her hand and laid into him, calling him a "lecherous, fucking, bloody bastard". We were forced to part company and I ran out without my undies and with the dress hiked up to my middle so as not to get soiled. She was after me, but she was stout and I was fit, so I outran her. I caught a bus home and a kind passenger completed the exorcism.

'It was only after that that I sat down and calmly thought it all over: I realised that I had been conned from infancy onwards; my dad had been right. I decided I could happily live with my demons if I could get a guy who's well equipped for deep penetration in order to placate them. The white guys I dated could not reach that deeply and I remember my dad saying that the non-whites fuck with abandon. So I have been looking for a black or a coloured guy to test it for myself, then met you at the tennis club, noticed the prominent cunt spanner in your shorts... and the rest is history...'

We wrote some more history that night. I moved in under her, found her wanton and went into her. It was wonderful! It was like coffee with the cream on top!

She has since moved in with me because my bachelor's flat is much older and has space for a double bed. Of course, we are 'living in sin', as she laughingly describes it, but we both immensely enjoy the regular sessions of exorcism. It is a wonderful ministry!