White Chrismas

White Christmas

Summary:

Black MILF is drawn into wild freeuse lifestyle.

Note 1:

This is a wild

Holiday 2024 Season Contest

story so please vote.

Note 2:

This story will not be for everyone. There is a mythical

13.5-inch white dick

; there is

racial play

; there is

incest

; the

'N' word is used;

there is

anal;

there is

nasty sex; an orgy

and much, much more.

Note 3:

This was a wicked idea from Breezy (a black woman who gets turned on by racially charged sexual stories and real-life scenarios) and Amy (her white best friend who likes dominating Breezy and being dominated by Breezy's well-hung black husband).

Note 4:

Thanks to Sam's Island for a couple of suggestions, OhDave1 and Shuj for editing.

Note 5: Again, don't read if INTERRACIALLY CHARGED sex stories with a variety of words that are very TABOO mixed in with wild sex scenes, getting caught and INCEST are not your cup of tea.

White Christmas

1. Caught in the Act

Being an empty nester was incredibly lonely. Sure, I had great friends, I still had my job as an RN and had been working excessive overtime to pay for having one kid still in college. To save money both my daughter Brandy and her older brother Curtis (who usually went by CJ) who was working as a college football coach lived together... unfortunately, they lived five hours away and I hadn't seen them since Thanksgiving (and that was only for two days).

Yet, with college semester turn around coming up, both of my kids would be home for two weeks and they would both be bringing with them their significant other. While I had met Agwa, CJ's adorable petite Filipino girlfriend, I had yet to meet my daughter's boyfriend. I knew little about him other than he was only eighteen and five years younger than my daughter. I'd be lying if I didn't find that a little odd, although my late husband was five years younger than me.

Anyways, I was just getting ready to go to work, being close to Christmas I worked every day until Christmas Eve when Brandy arrived with her boyfriend... her white boyfriend. At fifty-one, I had fucked quite a few men, I couldn't even guess a number, but the early nineties were a blur of sucking, fucking and a reasonable amount of licking. That said, I had never been with a white boy. Not once. I had, though, had two white girls who I would beckon to munch my pussy back in my college days because many white girls love chocolate pussy: Mary and Sarah. Although, in my senior year, I did end up a submissive nigger, the term that freshman white girl Amy would use when she chose to sit on my face when she wanted to come. No white girl before or after had ever got away with using that term with me, but she did. She somehow saw past my feminist, proud black persona and would use my BBW body for her enjoyment. For the record, I have always been a big-boned girl. A fat ass that men died for, tits that men would worship and thick legs that all together were a perfect package.

"Hi, Momma," Brandy walked in, startling me, wearing a sundress that was way too short and, to my surprise, pantyhose, and gave me a huge hug. A surprise because she was adamant about how much she hated them and in California not an overly practical clothing choice... although I wore them every day as an R.N. As a required part of my uniform in a backwards system. Having a big black woman wearing white nylons was always an odd look, and perhaps pure colonialism, although I had long ago got used to it and truth be told can't say I minded it... as I found that white nylons on my legs were oddly sexy. Also, a surprise because my baby girl wasn't supposed to arrive until tomorrow.

On the other hand, I can't say I was impressed with my first encounter with Roy. For an eighteen-year-old, he had a surprising amount of tattoos, a shaved head and was all muscle. I mean he looked like he could be in the MMA. Instantly, I assumed the six-foot-two white boyfriend was complete trouble. "Hi, Ms. Jones," he greeted.

"Hello," I said, not even trying to hide my instant disdain for this man. He looked like a thug. I wasn't thrilled my baby girl was dating a white man in the first place, but that unhappiness doubled on first sight of him up close.

"Momma, this is Roy, Roy this is my Momma," Brandy introduced, with such excitement I tried to conceal my disdain.

"Nice to meet you," I greeted, extending my hand, but to my surprise, he wrapped his huge arms around me, which was pretty impressive because I am not a petite woman, and gave me a hug.

"Uh, you can call me Big Momma," I said, the term both my kids and their friends had used for me since I can remember.

"Uh, okay," he said, letting me go.

"I hate to meet and run," I said, looking at my daughter with a perplexed look as I glanced down at her nylon-clad legs, before giving my daughter another big hug just so happy she was home for a couple of weeks. This guy was likely just a blip in the long life of my daughter.

"You have to go?" Brandy asked.

"Yeah, I'm working a double shift unfortunately," I replied, "you are a day early. Although, I do work a lot until Christmas."

"Oh, okay," Brandy said, a little disappointed.

"I'll go get the suitcases," Roy said, so far quite the gentleman which somehow annoyed me since I didn't want any reason to like him.

"Okay, honey," Brandy said.

Once alone, I decided I had a couple of minutes to chat. "So, isn't he too young for you?"

"Momma, don't start," Brandy said, a spitfire of a woman, just like her mother who never liked being told what to do.

"It's just he looks a little...." I paused, unsure how to finish the sentence.

"Momma, he treats me amazing, and already he knows what he wants to do with his life," she interrupted.

"He does?" I asked.

"Yeah, he is joining the military after we go back home," she said.

"Oh," I asked, knowing this would shut me up as her father was in the military his whole life before getting ill with cancer six years ago and passing away four years ago.

"Yes, he isn't enjoying school and since football season is done he doesn't have much ambition to stay in school," Brandy explained.

"Well, I do respect that," I said, not that made him good enough for my daughter. I had my entire life stressed never to trust a white man, the same message my mother told me and my grandmother told her. "But, he is white."

"It's 2024, Mom," Breezy stressed, "Jim Crow is over."

"Doesn't feel like it to me," I said.

"I know you lived in much more racially charged times, and I'm not pretending there aren't still some racist people out there, but Roy is a caring man, a protective man and someone I trust and love with all my heart.

I sighed. Not sure what else to say to her.

"Give him a chance," Brandy said, "he is a good one."

"Okay," I said, realizing I was judging him quite unfairly, although I still had some deep reservations based on his age and race. "Anyways, I got to go, but I look forward to getting to know him better and spending time with you and your brother."

"Me too, Momma," Brandy said, giving me another hug. One thing about our family, we were huggers... something I started at a young age with them, just like my momma did with me.

Roy walked in and I said goodbye and headed out.

I got in my car and headed to work.

It was about five minutes into my drive when I realized in the excitement of my daughter's surprise arrival I had left my bag with my purse and lunch on the kitchen table.

I sighed, turned around and headed back home.

I walked back inside, into the kitchen and gasped as I saw my daughter on her knees with Roy's dick in her mouth and really bobbing.

"Oh, shit, sorry, Ms. Jones," Roy apologized pulling his dick, his absolutely massive foot-long-plus dick that was thick as fuck out of my baby girl's mouth.

"Momma, I'm so sorry," Brandy said, utter embarrassment in her eyes as she got off her knees... a little saliva dripping down her chin.

"I, um, forgot my bag," I said, as I couldn't help but take another look at Roy's massive dick. It was easily the largest I had ever seen and I had had some pretty big dicks in me during my life. I mean I didn't have a measuring tape but it seemed like over thirteen inches. In fact it looked like the white replica of the amazing big dicked black porn stud Dredd... who was my go-to porn stud to watch as he destroyed women with his horse-like cock. I mean no one dominated a woman and destroyed her holes like his cock did. The philosophy of BBC was often true and I was never satisfied without a big dick of at least seven inches or more in me. My late husband was ten-inches and God I missed how his cock felt in my pussy and asshole.

Roy pulled up his boxers and shorts and his dick disappeared behind them.

"Momma, I'm really sorry," Brandy repeated as Roy remained speechless.

I said, trying to joke it off, as I grabbed my bag, "It's okay, I was young once," not sure what else to say, even as I still had Roy's huge cock imprinted in my memory. I even inadvertently glanced at his crotch area as I said it.

Roy definitely noticed my glance but didn't say anything, as I scurried out of my own home as if I was the one who had been caught in the act.

Once in the car and back on the road I used my car's phone app, "Call, Dorothy."

A minute later, I said, as my best friend since I was in grade three answered, "You won't fucking guess what I just saw."

"Then I won't guess," my always spicy and quick-witted friend responded.

"Brandy arrived a day early," I began.

"Well, that isn't that scandalous," she joked, obviously catching my frantic tone from my first words.

"That isn't the scandalous part," I said.

"You met the white boyfriend," she responded.

"I did."

"And you were not impressed?"

"I was not," I said, "but that isn't why I called you."

"Well, spill it, bitch," Dorothy said, also not a patient woman.

"Well, I left for work, forgot my purse, returned a few minutes later and walked in on Brandy blowing him in my kitchen," I explained.

"Oh, to be young again," Dorothy said.

"Like you don't still do that," I said, Dorothy the ultimate definition of a cougar. She loved her men fifteen to thirty years younger than her and had a new boy toy every time we chatted.

"I didn't say I didn't," she laughed, "I just wish after being on my knees sucking a nice young dick my knees weren't sore."

I usually would have agreed, as like me she was a bigger woman, and like me black, and carrying these huge tits that were a backbreaker and years of being on my feet for eight to sixteen hours a day had also done a number to my knees. Yet, instead, I blurted out, "His dick was huge."

"Oh, you saw your daughter's boyfriend's dick," she said with a laugh.

"Girl. That whiteboy had a big ass dick," I stressed, still able to perfectly picture it.

"Lucky girl," Dorothy said, not shocked by the size like she should have been.

"I'm talking, well over a foot-long,"

"And I stick with lucky fucking girl," Dorothy said.

"I should have known you would say that," I sighed.

"You know size matters," my best friend pointed out. "Any woman who says otherwise is lying to herself, lying to her man, or has never experienced a twelve-inch pussy destroyer."

"You've had a twelve-inch pussy destroyer?" I asked, but, of course, she did. She never married and has been fucking mostly younger men her whole life.

"A couple of times." She admitted.

"You slutty bitch," I teased, wishing right now I had a foot-long dick to fuck my cobwebbed pussy.

"What? You were once a size queen. Are you surprised your daughter is?"

"I guess not," I said, realizing she was right. Perhaps the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Anything less than seven inches I wouldn't even bother to suck, never allow in my pussy or ass. God, I missed my husband's hammer.

"Plus, I told you some whiteboys have huge dicks," Dorothy reminded me. Unlike me, who had stuck to being with only black and brown men my whole life (while never had I had a white dick in me... I had enjoyed a multi-cultured mosaic of ethnicities, including: Puerto Ricans, Cubans, Muslim, Brazilians, Hispanic and even a dp by two Asian nerds (taking both their virginities at once)), Dorothy had explored the smorgasbord of interracial cock joking she was trying to get a dick from every country in the world... she had sucked and fucked them all. As I mentioned earlier, I had been conditioned to reject and not trust any white man... ever... and that included in the bedroom. Not that some white boys hadn't tried to get in my panties, I just had the will power to always say no. Even after fifty-plus years of life, not once had I even remotely seriously considered a white man sexually... until... seeing Roy's dick.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I said, her telling me I should try a white cock the past year since I had still not yet gone on a date, nor fuck someone since my husband died.

"Did seeing his big white dick get that fat pussy of yours soaked?" Dorothy bluntly asked.

"Jesus, Dorothy," I said exasperated, although I shouldn't have expected anything less from my always sexually charged friend.

"No woman can see a foot-long-plus dick and not have her mouth water and her pussy leak," she said, as if she was some black Dr. Ruth.

"That's quite the hypothesis," I sarcastically responded.

"Am I wrong?" Dorothy questioned, knowing me all too well. "Is your pussy wet?"

As I rolled to a red light, I finally had time to think and as I did I realized I could feel dampness between my legs.

I sighed. Why the fuck would seeing my daughter's boyfriend's dick, regardless of its size, turn me on? He was white!

"I'll take the lengthy silence as affirmative," she said.

"Fine, I'm a little damp," I admitted, annoyed it had turned me on, although I told myself it wasn't his dick but the lengthy dry spell.

"Fuck you, bitch, don't you be lying to me," she scolded, with her large laugh, "you don't get damp, you fucking flood."

That was also true, and she would know from our many college group encounters, we often swapped boyfriends, were parts of multiple orgies and gangbangs and sometimes enjoyed dining on each other's pussies when drunk, high or, truth be told, were just horny.

"Well, I'm lucky I always keep a couple extra pairs of panties in my work locker," I said, no sense lying to my best friend... as she knew me as good as I knew myself.

"If I was there now I'd clean up that delicious mess," she wickedly said.

Horny, more so than I even realized, a little more wetness gushing into my indeed-soaked panties, I replied, "Bitch, I'd ride your face so good."

"And I'd eat that pussy until you were out of cum," she said. Alas that wasn't possible as she lived in Brazil at the moment. That said, she was the only person I had had sex with since my husband died. The day of the funeral she cheered me up with a nasty marathon session that included oral and some old-school fisting. The last time when I visited her this summer turned into a marathon sapphic encounter. She tried desperately to get me to fuck some young stud while there but I just wasn't ready. I wasn't sure I would ever be ready to be with another man. Instead, I let her fuck me with a strap-on.

"I could really use that tongue of yours," I sighed, wanting to touch my pussy as I drove, but resisted thinking that would be one crazy distracted driving ticket.

"Well, I'll be there for New Year's Eve," she reminded me.

"I can't wait," I said, as I pulled into the hospital parking lot... I'd finally get some pussy and get fucked.

"Me either," she said.

"Unfortunately, I just got to work now, so I got to go," I said.

"You should probably frig yourself first so you're not thinking of that big fat white boy dick all shift," she teased.

"Bitch, you're so bad," I laughed, even as I pictured my daughter's boyfriend's big fat white cock.

"Have fun," she said.

We said goodbye and I went to the locker room and changed panties, surprised by how soaked they were. I didn't frig myself, which may have indeed been a mistake as for the next sixteen hours all I thought about was that white dick.

2. The Talk & Eavesdropping

I got home, exhausted and slept for ten hours. When I went downstairs I found brunch made for me and Brandy doing the dishes.

She said, "I made you brunch."

"Thanks, honey, I'm starving," I replied, surprised to see my daughter cooking... she refused to learn from me when I tried in her teen years.

"You're welcome," she said, as she put a plate in the microwave.

"When did you start cooking?" I asked.

"When I moved in with CJ," Brandy answered. "Otherwise, we all would have starved to death or went broke eating out."

"I imagine so," I laughed.

"I did take all the recipes you gave me," she said continuing to surprise me.

"Well, will miracles ever cease?" I joked, even though I was secretly beaming with pride.

"Well, Momma, you are usually right," she smiled.

"And don't you forget it," I said.

"I know you never will," Brandy smiled, knowing I wouldn't.

Changing topics, I noticed she was wearing another sundress and was again in pantyhose. I asked, "So, what is with the nylons?"

"Roy likes them," she answered.

"Really?" I asked, my daughter is not one to appease a guy, or anyone quite frankly. She was a free spirit. "You are wearing them for a man?"

"Yeah," she said, seeming uncomfortable and avoiding eye contact. "Plus, they are quite sexy."

"Well, they definitely highlight your athletic legs," I complimented, Brandy having been a volleyball, basketball and track star in high school and having a slim body unlike her Momma.

"You think so?" She asked, looking into my eyes, and sounding genuinely surprised.

"For sure," I nodded, "I wear them because they are required for my job, but I used to wear them for your father because he liked them."

"He did?" she asked.

"Yes, but we kept our sexy lingerie and other things in the bedroom," I pointed out.

"Yeah, sorry about that," she said.

"It happens," I shrugged.

"I can't seem to say no to him," she admitted.

"Well, it's important to never change who you are for any man," I stressed.

"He brings out the best in me," she said and genuinely seemed to believe it.

Shifting back to the nylons and not wanting her identity to fade away because of a man, I wanted to not push her but make my point, "But you should wear them for yourself and not a man."

"Can't I do both?" She asked, as the microwave beeped.

"I suppose you can," I agreed, as she went and grabbed the plate from the microwave. "I just don't want you to change who you are for any man."

"He is worth it," she said, placing the plate before me.

"He's eighteen," I had to point out the obvious.

"I know, I know," she said, "I have used that logic many times, but I'm in love with him."

"You love him?" I questioned, they had only dated for four months.

"Yes," she nodded.

"I see," I said, pondering if her love is partially biased by lust and the impressive appendage he had between his legs.

"And Roy is actually nineteen," she clarified, "his birthday was a couple of weeks ago.

"Well, that changes everything," I sarcastically said.

"Mom, he is a good man."

"He's a boy," I said, unable to hide my disdain.

"He's a man," she corrected, standing up to me... like she had when I didn't like her high school boyfriend, but at least he was black.