Greetings readers!
Two years ago (shortly after my 30th birthday), I got out of a (too) long relationship with my ex girlfriend Amanda. I had spent the better part of my twenties with her. There were plenty of good times, but as the years went on, our sex life became less and less eventful. Sadly, it wasn't particularly eventful to begin with. When we ultimately broke up, it took a few weeks for me to get my head (and the whirlpool of emotions spinning around therein) back on track. With Amanda in the rearview, I had realized that I had YEARS of good sex to catch up on. In particular, I realized that it wasn't just sex I was looking for but some reasonably light kink, intrigue, adventure-- something different from the vanilla I'd been living with for nearly a decade.
I had discovered the personals section of a popular online classifieds while selling a guitar Amanda had bought me a few birthdays back. Out with the old, I figured. For anyone who's ever browsed this section of the classifieds, you know there is quite a range of listings. Some with photos, some that get right to it, some a little less aggressive. I had never been on an online date but as I had been in the market for a little excitement and intrigue, Online personals seemed like a good place to start. As a New Yorker, there was no shortage of listings.
In the two years which followed my breakup from Amanda, I met approximately 15 different women of various backgrounds and ages (ranging from 27-58). I discovered a lot about myself during these encounters, particularly that I have a seemingly bottomless appetite for BBW.
What follows are true accounts of my favorite encounters with 8 of these women. Names and certain details have been changed, but the plot of each of these stories is accurate or VERY close. I hope you all have as much fun reading these accounts as I had writing them. Enjoy!
Volume 3: Tamara
"Ebony BBW Seeks Playtoy..."
My experience with black women was limited to a couple of harmless make-outs on college spring break. And I'd certainly jerked off to plenty of ebony porn in my day, so when Tamara responded to my response to her listing, I was intrigued to say the least.
Tamara got right to it.
"Can you handle all this?" Her reply said, accompanied by two mouthwatering photos.
One photo appeared to be from a wedding or some formal event. She wore a tight black dress, and was leaning somewhat forward to show off some delicious cleavage, a fierce runway model style look in her eye and hot pink lipstick so bright, you could probably see it from outer space.
In the other, a closeup of two big, round black breasts, with even blacker areolas and the most perfect chocolate nipples you might ever hope to see. Tamara was on the shorter side and perfectly chunky. From the photos, she appeared to be very confident in her own skin.
We got to chatting immediately.
While she was pleased I wrote her back, I could see what she meant by the whole "playtoy" thing pretty quickly. Tamara wasn't here to exchange pleasantries. She was a Goddess who would be demanding servitude and pleasure.
"Such beautiful lips. Love the lipstick too! I'll bet you're an excellent kisser" I wrote to her.
"Save your flattery, bitch." She replied "These lips will be telling you how to spread my asshole for your lips and tongue..."
"Yes, Tamara." Was all I could muster up in reply, smirking to myself.
Since, Tamara was looking for something pretty specific, she pretty much had the whole encounter mapped out.
"You will be naked in my apartment at all times" She informed me. "You will address me as Queen and you will please me as I enjoy being pleased. You are my bitch and I will treat you as such. You will eat my chocolate pussy and my chocolate asshole till I am satisfied. And if you treat me right... you will be very happy, I assure you."
"Yes, my Queen" I replied to everything. And I meant it.
At no point, did she talk about taking care of me, but she did say I'd be very happy if I served her well so I was into this. And as always, if I wasn't enjoying myself I could walk at any time.
We continued to text back and forth for the next day or so, with plans to get together on Sunday around noon.
"Clear your schedule." She had told me in one of her texts. "I have plans for you."
I spent a lot of time those few days leading up to seeing Tamara, watching some raunchy ebony / interracial porn. I LOVED watching some scrawny white boy being dominated by a beautiful black woman, or women. I had never eaten black pussy before and I absolutely could not wait. Tamara was VERY excited to hear that my experience with black women was very limited.
"Your life is about to change, bitch. You have no fucking idea what you are in for." She said to me.
When Sunday morning rolled around, I awoke to a text from Tamara with her address and the words "YOUR ASS IS MINE" written in all caps. A follow up text informed me to tell her doorman that I was here to see Tammy in 14-F. The door would be unlocked and I could let myself in.
She lived just crosstown on The Upper East Side of Manhattan, no more than a 30 minute stroll through Central Park. I felt like a pleasant walk before an afternoon of pure raunch might do me good. The walk back would be even more necessary if this afternoon were to be even half as filthy as Tamara suggested in might.
Before leaving, I performed my usual ritual of getting super clean, trimming up and putting on a little show for myself in the mirror. Again, I knew that Tamara might not be touching my cock today, but she did insist I be naked the entire time, so I wanted her to be pleased with that she saw.
As I made my way across the park, I thought about our chats and some of the rules we (mostly she) had laid out. I was to take no liberties. I could ask if there was something I wanted, I was to address her only as "Queen" and in return expect to be called every name in the book. And of course if at any point either of us wasn't feeling it... it was over.
"I might just throw your ass out of my apartment, if you ain't gettin' the job done, bitch." She had even gone as far as to say.
I texted her when I was outside her building to let her know I was on my way in. She had likely told her doorman I was coming, as he waved me toward the elevator when I told him I was here to see Tamara in 14-F.
Tamara's building was one of those high rise luxury condos with an ornate lobby and super fast elevators. I barely had time to catch my breath when the elevator dinged and I walked out onto the 14th floor. I made my way down the hall until I was standing in front of apartment 14-F
I tapped lightly on the door and ever so slightly turned her doorknob. With no resistance met, I turned the knob and opened the door.
The curtains were down, dimly lit lamps were on, and the familiar fragrance of some VERY dank marijuana began to permeate.
"Come in." Came her voice from the living room just across from her entrance hallway.
As I crossed her foyer and entered her living room, the room was lit just enough that I could see her standing several feet in front of me, her chunky ebony thighs in a skimpy zebra-print thong, her big black breasts hanging proudly on display and her long black hair in a braided ponytail, reaching down almost to her ass.
"That's far enough." She said with authority, stopping me about four or so feet in front of her.
Tamara had a beautiful apartment. High up on the 14th floor, she had big windows and a great view of the avenue. Her apartment was beautifully decorated. She was big into artifacts and culture, which made more sense when I saw two masters degrees proudly displayed on her wall-- one in cultural anthropology, the other in education. Something about highly educated women very much did it for me.
"Hello my Queen." I said humbly. "Thank you for allowing me to come serve you today."
"Shut up, fuckboy and save your breath. You'll need it."
"Yes Queen." I replied timidly.
Tamara looked fucking sexy as hell in her zebra thong, her tits staring right at me. Seeing her standing there in her sexy nakedness, her tits, the thong, the lipstick, I was already nearly fully hard, my balls heavy, hanging low.
"Strip, bitch." She commanded with certainty.
"Yes, Queen." I responded, nervously excited about what was to come.
