Leasa Ch. 01

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My name is Leasa. I work in Silicon Valley at a well know software firm as a marketing manager. I am 5’7”, 118 and blonde and blue eyed. At 30 I’ve kept my body in good shape: 36C-24-35. Needless to say, I was voted prettiest girl in both my high school and my college senior class.

Because of this most men have always been awkward and hesitant to approach me. I never had to learn to say “no” because the men were usually too insecure to approach me.

I met my husband in the Valley, fell in love and got married last fall. Shortly thereafter a much older, black maintenance man at my company, named Amos, started flirting with me and asking me out to lunch.

I, of course, would decline as politely and diplomatically as I could but I always felt awkward doing so.

I told my husband about this but he would just laugh it off and joke about it. After all, he had seen Amos and knew he was well over 60, fat, missing a tooth or two, and just a homely man.

Then, after a few weeks of this, one day Amos kind of cornered me in one of the hallways when no one else was around.

“Hey sweets, you ready to go to lunch wit me yet?’ he asked with a big smile showing a few missing teeth.

“Amos, now you know I’m married and…uh…you know…it …uh…well…it wouldn’t be right,” I stammered. But my hesitation just seemed to make him work harder at his objective.

“Aw, c’mon baby, give a man a break. I’s just wants to take you to lunch. Don’t make an old man feel put down!” he said with this pained look on his face.

I knew he was playing with me but still it all felt so awkward and difficult.

“Well…I can’t really…”

“Baby, just one time!” he cut me off. I tried to think fast but all I could finally muster was:

“Now Amos you know that…” As I spoke I noticed him looking at my breasts off and on. Slowly—I don’t know how—I began to notice my nipples becoming erect. “Damn!” I thought, I hope he doesn’t notice. But in my peripheral vision I could see they really were sticking out prominently against the fabric of my sheer blouse.

I lost my train of thought as he looked time and time again at my growing nipples.

“C’mon baby, ya can’t says no forever,” he smiled, obviously noticing my body’s inexplicable arousal.

Finally, I just ran out of energy and ideas of how to refuse.

“Well…alright…but really just once…and please…you know…this is just as friends…ok?”

With a big smile, Amos responded: “You bet baby, just a one time date, I know”

“DATE!!!!” I thought. This isn’t a date!!! But I couldn’t muster anything that would come out of my mouth. Under this old black man’s verbal onslaught I just stood there half smiling: confused and angry I had so easily been talked into this.

As I backed away to take leave I noticed the bulge running down the left leg of his pants. My eye first glanced and then had to take a full look to see if what I thought I saw was what I really saw. It was!

Amos’ cock ran more than half way down to his knee and tented out from his pants obscenely. He saw me looking but just smiled and continued looking straight into my eyes. Then reaching over took my hand and said: “I really, really looking forward to this Leasa baby. I know you is too.”

Somehow my hand just responded and held his for a second as I reached to say something, anything to slow him down and get out of this whole thing. But all I could muster was…

“Y-y-yes, Amos…I guess…I guess I am too…” I looked down again and found myself staring at the monstrosity that was his manhood, struggling to pull my eyes off it and leave. He still held my hand. And I still held his.

Slowly I came back to reality, let go of his clutches and pulled away.

He let go and backed off. A huge smile across his ape-like face.

“See you tomorrow then sweet meat,” he called as he backed off to go on his way.

“O, Ok…” I mumbled. I felt confused and dizzy as I turned and walked to the door that opened to the next hallway. In the reflection of the glass door I could see this big, black man just standing there watching me as I walked down the hallway.

For some reason I could not understand I found my heart pounding and my knees shaking.

Then almost unconsciously I began a slightly, ever so slightly, exaggerated sway to my hips and ass as he watched intently. Why was I doing this!!! What was I thinking??? I had no–and have no–idea. But I did it. And as I did I looked into the door’s glass to see his refection reaching down, stroking the serpentine bulge running down his left inseam.

I walked through the doors and felt dizzy, faint. I went straight to the Ladies Room and into a booth. I thought, “God, I feel like I have to pee!” But when I peeled down my nylons to go I noticed a big wet splotch in the crotch. I sat on the toilet just staring into the crotch. Was I actually sexually excited by this pathetic old maintenance man? Did he have me ataşehir escort this hot just by his flirting with me?

My questions were soon answered as I found myself leaning back on the seat, my knees falling wide open, my fingers reaching unconsciously for my clitty and starting to work the stiff standing bud–furiously!

My eyes closed, I could only see Amos’ huge dick distorting the leg of his pants, trying to break free to get at—me!

Oh! So hot! My fingers worked furiously. I started making high squeaking sounds as I neared a major orgasm. Then it broke and I had to stifle a scream. My fingers were flooded with my juice in a way no man had ever before been able to make me cum.

When it was done I sat on the toilet. Stunned, dumbfounded. What had happened to me? Could it be? Could I be attracted to this laughable, old black?

As in a trance, I tried to wipe my now sore pussy dry, get myself together and go back to my desk.

But all day I was distracted by my shock that I’d excepted Amos’ invitation. And, of course, by my body’s arousal. What had come over me? What would my husband think if he ever knew?

All day I tried to work…but my nipples continued to ache and my pussy lips remained swollen, leaking their excitement into the crotch of my hose.

I got no work done all day.


That evening when I got home Andy asked me how my day had gone and why I seemed so quiet. I couldn’t say much, still confused and bewildered over the day’s happenings.

That night as I lay in bed waiting on him, he came into the bedroom naked. Looking confidently at me and smiling, he strode toward the bed. But all I could think of was how ridiculous he looked with his man-sized body and, seemingly, child sized penis and testicles.

After he climbed into bed he started to mount me. As usual I had to help guide his 4 inch penis into me. Strangely I felt almost repulsed by his naked body. Somehow it seemed deficient in some masculine way. Only later did I realize I was subconsciously comparing his manhood to Amos’.

He began to hump into me and then slipped out. “God, he’s so little,” I caught myself thinking.

I put him back in and he began again. By the third or fourth hump he began grunting and going through the usual gyration of his orgasm.

I found myself annoyed. All this grunting and bluster about what I knew was a drip of semen. When I had given him oral sex in the past, I found I often didn’t even know when he came—except for all the grunting and writhing around—because his cum was so minimal.

After he stopped, he rolled over and was snoring in minutes. It was then I realized how pathetic our sex life was.

As he snored away I closed my eyes and found myself seeing Amos’ bulge down the inseam of his trousers. Its length and thickness. Its power, nearly ripping through his pants…for me. All of that size and urgency because of his desire, his lust, for me.

Soon my hands were beneath the covers working furiously again at my clit. Sore as the bud was I needed relief from my growing excitement.

As Andy snored my hand worked away and my legs spread ever wider. I was building toward a fantastic explosion.

I could hear the sticky squishing of my fingers as they worked away at my flooding channel.

Then it broke!!! Wave after wave of pure passion!!!

“OOOhhh!!!!!!” I half moaned, half screamed, again and again, as I rode multiples of my lusty, mind numbing orgasms.

When I was done I lay there in a sweat panting heavily trying to regain myself.

Andy continued snoring and I fell off into a deep sleep.


The next day at lunch I honestly hoped Amos would forget all about it. But it was foolish of me to think he would.

“Ready for our date?” he said as he ambled up to my desk.

I wanted to scream, “THIS ISN’T A DATE!!!” and just explain to him it was “just” lunch. But nothing came out of my mouth. I just smiled weakly. Inside I just didn’t want a scene; plus, I knew it would do no good. He would never listen.

As we walked out to his car in the parking lot I could feel his hand gently on the small of my back. “Unbelievable! This old, black, maintenance man has the gall to put his arm around me,” I thought to myself. But again, I couldn’t bring myself to object and create some kind of scene or confrontation. So I let it go.

By the time we got within a few feet of his car I could feel him becoming bolder and definitely let his hand rest on my lower back. He now definitely had his arm around me.

He opened the door of his old , dirty ’89 Cadillac for me and let me slide in. As I did I noticed his eyes taking a nice long, obvious look up under the short leather mini skirt I was wearing. Why had I worn this sexy little skirt, I thought to myself.

But as I waited for him to go around to his door, I realized my heart was beating heavily in my chest. I’d liked that he looked ataşehir escort up my skirt. As he slid in his side of the car I smiled over meekly at him.

He looked into my eyes, smiled then turned and started the engine. After we backed out and turned onto the road he casually put his big, black hand onto my knee, squeezed it gently and said: “You joinin’ me today a dream come true, Leasa.”

My heart bled for him. It was such a nice thing to say. I felt guilty for all the laughing my husband and I had done about his flirtations. This poor beast really admired me so. I wanted to remove his hand from my knee—it was completely inappropriate—but after he said that…I just couldn’t. I was afraid I’d hurt his feelings.

So he drove on with his hand on my knee. Occasionally, running it slightly up to my lower thigh.

I kept coming right to the point of saying stop. But it was so casual, so slight, I never quite felt he’d gone over the line.

Yet as we approached the bar & grill he was taking me to for lunch, I suddenly thought, “What in the hell am I doing sitting here in a broken down old caddy with an old, black man—one my husband and I used to laugh about—letting him rest his hand on my knee and occasionally stroke my thigh like I was his damn white whore or something!!!”

I felt somewhat stupefied and dazed as he opened the car door for us to enter the “Soul Train” Bar & Grill. All I could think of was how could I have let this all happen and what am I doing here.

As we walked to the back door entrance from the parking lot something else bothered and alarmed me. The warm wetness I felt again in the crotch of my hose…obviously brought on from Amos’ gentle handling of my knee and thigh.

“What is happening to me, “ I wondered.


As we walked into the seedy bar Amos suddenly grabbed my hand, holding it in his as if I really was his woman. My immediate reaction was to pull it away but as we walked through the bar area and all the patrons—who were older, seedy looking, black men—stared at us, I felt I didn’t want to create an embarrassing situation.

Besides the way the place quieted down and these old men stared at me, some with their jaws agape, made me feel something strange that I didn’t understand at first. But as we walked by them I found myself slowly holding Amos’ hand more firmly. I also found myself standing tall, strutting somewhat, beside and slightly behind him…somehow proud of their admiration—even awe—of me. And especially in awe of the fact that I was being paraded about hand in hand by their buddy Amos.

I quickly found my nipples betraying me again as Amos paraded me in front of his buddies on the way toward our booth. They poked out prominently as these old men ogled my bouncing breasts. Damn! I thought. Why did I wear such a sheer bra.

But in the back of my mind I knew this was strangely exciting me against my will. I enjoyed these old blacks staring and looking me up and down, licking their lips lustfully. And I was also excited by how Amos glowed with pride to be with this young, shapely blonde. Hand in hand, showing her off as his ‘date’ for all his horny, old, pals to envy.

We stopped along the way as Amos introduced me to one or two of his buddies as his “lunch date”. As he’d say this, I’d at first feel my temper rising that he would introduce me as his date…then somehow it would melt away as these men would look me up and down and whistle.

“Well, Amos, you doin’ awright, man!” one said. I found myself blushing. As I did, I could feel Amos lightly squeezing my hand. Unbelievably, I found myself giving his hand a slight squeeze back.

“What was I doing!?!” I screamed to myself. But as I stood there smiling demurely behind him—behaving every inch the role of his woman—I found myself shyly looking to the floor as his buddy would occasionally glance over from their conversation, obviously checking out my tits and my now obscenely protruding nipples.

Why couldn’t I get control of this situation I would keep thinking to myself. But then Amos would lead me to the next buddy for a quick intro, almost like a warrior showing newly won spoils of battle to his countrymen.

And somehow it aroused me.

Soon Amos led me to our booth. When I sat down, rather than sitting opposite me, he slid in beside me on my side of the booth.

As we looked at the menu, Amos once again placed his large black hand onto my knee. After squeezing it slightly, he resumed the slow, ever so slight stroking of my lower thigh. This obviously impressed his pals sitting at the bar who could see from their vantage point everything going on above and below the booth table.

I became very angry that he would show me off like his whore in this way and decided I would put and end to it right then and there.

After mustering some courage I slowly put my hand under the table and placed it on his. Slowly I held his hand and squeezed it gently. anadolu yakası escort My way of saying, please stop.

Amos, gently squeezed my hand back, held it for a few seconds, then amazingly let go and proceeded to rub my thigh—even more blatantly and higher than before! I couldn’t believe it. I suddenly realized that this uncouth and uneducated black Neanderthal misread my signal as one of encouragement!!!

Now what could I do? I was angry and frustrated, but also somewhat defeated. I couldn’t think of how to stop this short of a confrontation that I didn’t feel up to at all considering the environment I was in and the exhibition Amos and I had just put on for all these onlookers.

His hand was now stroking from my knee to well up under my leather mini. He was now sliding his hand just inches from my moistened pussy. At times he would reach under and grab a handful of my thigh, then run his hand back down to my knee. Then up again under my skirt. Which was slowly becoming bunched up around my waist. All the while the men at the bar staring intently and at times whispering to each other.

I felt like some erotic night club act the way these men openly stared at Amos’ pawing of my thigh.

Then Amos looked over at me and looked into my eyes. I had no idea what to expect as I looked into his homely old face. Without warning he leaned over and put his thick, black African lips to mine!

“Oh my God!” my mind screamed. This can’t be happening to me! No, no, no!!! Please God, let me wake up from this nightmare!

But this was no dream to wake up from.

I could feel his thick lips pressing mine and working my lips slowly, confidently, erotically open. And then the warm wetness of his long, thick snaking tongue into my mouth.

I hesitantly was trying to push him away but my hands just touched his chest. They froze in place and didn’t push at all.

Why would he just start so confidently frenching me in front of this crowd? My mind struggled to think of what to do as my mouth was being worked open by Amos’ oral ministrations.

But then I realized what had spurred him on to do what he did as his hand continued stroking high up under my skirt. I realized that the moment he looked over at me he had just reached high enough up my thigh to feel my spreading wetness.

My wetness told him I was now his.

And his tongue continued to push through my lips and coil around my tongue. And I admit my lips, so little at first I hardly noticed, began to work back. My mind felt like it was going blank, surrendering as I began, finally, kissing him back hungrily. Offering my tongue fully to him with complete abandonment—for all to see.

Then he took hold of my arm and without pausing from our passionate frenching put it around his neck. I needed no more encouragement. I began stroking his neck, the back of his old balding head with a passion I’d never had before while making out with any man…including my husband.

I felt Amos begin to stroke my face and then let his hand slide down to my breast. At first stroking it, then beginning to paw it heavily. Soon Amos was grotesquely mauling my tits through my sheer blouse. Squeezing them and pinching my swollen nipples. He continued tweaking my nipples even pulling them out obscenely, I am sure to impress his leering pals at the bar with his command over the white blonde he was conquering and making into his whore right in front of them.

As we now were slobbering into each others mouths we noticed a man standing next to the booth. It was an older black man whom apparently Amos knew and who owned the bar.

As we stopped our tonguing and looked up at him, Amos’ hand still working away at my tit, he said, “Why don’t you two take it to the back room”. And then he threw a key onto the table and walked away.

Amos picked it up and began pulling me by the hand from the table toward a room in the back of the bar.

As I rose from the table I could see my blouse was half undone and my leather mini skirt was embarrassingly bunched up around my waist more like a thick belt than a skirt. As I tried to push it down with my free hand I realized every man at the bar could see the large wet spot on my crotch. They now all knew how wet I was for Amos.

As Amos pulled me to the back room, I could see these old blacks rubbing their dicks through there pants and mumbling obscenities about me as we passed by them.

In shock I thought to myself, “God, I really have become this old, black man’s whore. Can’t I even say no to an over sexed, black maintenance worker?”


When we got into the back room Amos closed the door and faced me. Right then and there I wanted to say no more take me home. But he just grabbed me into his arms and began kissing me deeply. I responded immediately this time, my tongue exploring his mouth.

When he broke away from my arms he shoved me back onto a half-bed, half-cot in the office. He looked down at me and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Get undressed, “ he commanded, almost casually.

I hesitated for a long moment. I wanted to say no. I thought of my husband. Then I pictured him walking toward me in the bedroom with his infantile genitalia swinging between his legs.

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