Kindergarten Teacher Goes Black

I haven’t known whether I should tell my husband, how i would ever do that, and whether he would be able to handle it if he knew. He is a very good companion and I have always been happy to have him in my life, but I have never known how to broach the subject of my secret desires, my yearning for the kind of sex that a married man just can’t imagine and a married woman should never have.

I am a kindergarten teacher, and seemingly not the kind of woman who craves wanton, wild sex with men with long and very black penises. Since high school I have been obsessed with black men as lovers. My husband doesn’t know about my collection of pictures of nude black men, I keep them at the house of the only person in the world who knows about my craving, Sally, one of the women I teach with. She has the same craving and understands perfectly how I am tormented by this secret desire to be fucked by an African stallion.

When I was in high school, I became a rabid basketball fan, but not so much that I enjoyed the sport, but because I enjoyed watching those tall black player with the large bulges in their shorts.

My friend Sally had lived in Nairobi for a few years and was able to satisfy her cravings while she lived their, but I have lived a sheltered life and have only fantasized about being ravished by black hands and penetrated by large black penises. No one would believe that prim and proper Mrs. Horn, kindergarten teacher and wife of a school principal, would have fantasies about being roughly fucked by big dark men with large bulges in their pants. No one would believe I even knew the word fuck, let alone would use it a sentence, certainly not dream about it as I sleep next to my husband the school principal.

When Thomas Wilson came to work at the school I got a nervous stomach whenever he was around. He was from the West Indies and was never just Thomas or Wilson, everyone called him Thomas Wilson and he was very polite and extremely muscular and very sexy to me. He was a very good worker and everyone seemed to like him, and I got weak in the knees whenever he was around.

I began to have fantasies about Thomas Wilson every night, even at work during the day, imagining myself being ravished by him, fucked thoroughly and passionately, taken like a shameless woman who craves black lovers and gives her body to any and all who would screw her pussy raw.

When he started cleaning my room on a daily basis I tried hard not to let it show, but Sally told me that he thought I was ‘very nice’ and even ‘pretty’. I almost swooned at the thought of him admiring my body, even had an orgasm imagining him secretly hungering for me, lusting for me as I worked around the school. I just visualized him in me, picturing it in my mind as he cleaned the room and I watched him.

For Beşiktaş travesti a second I was afraid he might realize I was watching him, somehow know the lustful thoughts I was having. He looked and saw me watching him. “Everything okay Miss Horn?” he asked. I became flustered and for a moment stammered, then said things ‘were fine’. He watched me for a while, then smiled and went on with his work.

Sally told me the next day that he had asked about me, if everything was okay. She told him I was fine, but told me she thought he had a slight crush on me. I must have turned red because she said, “Turns you on, right? Having that big black stud of a man admiring you? I know just how you feel. I was looking at your stash of pictures yesterday,” she said coquettishly. “I think Thomas Wilson is a very lot of man, if you know what I mean?”

I indeed knew what she meant and I think my blush got deeper and my face got hot. “You’ve eyeing that bulge in his pants all semester, right?” she said with a wink.

“You’re the only person who knows about this,” I said, “and you can’t say anything to anyone. You hear me?” She smiled for a long time, and then she said of course she wouldn’t tell. She would be telling about herself as well. “I have the hots for blackness same as you,” she said with that same lascivious grin. “You and I share the same fantasy, girl. I can’t tell people I long for black long fellows. You know that.”

We chuckled together and shared an embarrassed moment of rhapsody. “You ever have a black one?” she asked straight out. I shook my head. “Well, you should,” she said with a smirk. “You owe it to yourself,” she said nodding her head. “If you ever get one of those monsters in you, honey, you’ll never want to go back,” she said with a grin.

“Sally, you know I am a married lady,” I protested.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t make a little ‘side trip’ now and then,” she said laughing. “You are a married lady with a stash of pictures that would make a call girl blush. I know, girl, I have had that African experience, and I can tell you for sure that you will never forget it if you do. You be nice to Thomas Wilson and he might show you a bit of paradise, girlfriend,” she said with a giggle.

By the time I got home I could think of nothing but a naked West Indian taking me to heaven with his vertical manhood filling my depths. My husband caught me daydreaming and asked me what was wrong. When I snapped out of it I said nothing was wrong. Then I thought, ‘if you only knew, sweetheart.’

The next morning Thomas Wilson was cleaning my room after school and I got a shot of boldness and asked him if he had a lady friend. “Not one particular,” he said with that Calypso cadence in his voice. I just loved the heavy, Beşiktaş travestiileri deep-voiced sound of it.

“So you are not married, then,” I said, stating the obvious. “It must get lonely,” I said.

“No ma’am,” he replied. “That don’t mean I spend my nights alone, mon,” he added with a broad sexy smile. “I mean, ma’am.” For a minute we just stood looking at one another. “You get lonely ma’am?” he asked. There was some feelings exchanged at that moment and I felt myself getting a bit weak.

“Sometimes,” I said with more emotion than I intended. He looked like he really wanted to help anyway he could. “At times I just want… I mean, we’ll, a woman sometimes wants… you know. Loving,” I said, not knowing how obvious I had just made things.

We were alone and the room door was closed and locked and the shades were drawn. Without knowing how far things were going, or how fast, I put my hand on his shoulder. He stood quietly, waiting for what came next. “Do you need a man, ma’am?” Without answering I nodded.

Then my arm moved as if it had a mind of its own. My hand was at my side and I moved it forward until my hand, palm outward, touched the front of his pants at his fly. “Oh my,” I said. “You are quite a man, Thomas Wilson.” He smiled and took a hold of my wrist, then he unzipped his pants and let me reach into his fly and put my fingers around a very thick and large penis.

“Would you like that in you, ma’am?” he asked politely.

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Oh my, yes.” He turned me around and lifted up my dress. I felt my panties slide down over my hips and I bent at the waist, waiting for him to enter me, closing my eyes and biting my lower lip. I heard him wet his fingers, then put them to my splayed pussy lips and rub the moisture around my labia that were already lubricating themselves.

His fingers separated my pussy lips and I felt the head of his cock press against my wet and puffy slit. I pushed back against him and the end of a very hard and thick cock slipped between my labia. “Oh yes,” I said, “fuck me Thomas, fuck me good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said obediently as he pressed into me for the second, third, and fourth time, then I lost count, and leaned back into him as he fucked me while I stood in my classroom with my dress up and my legs apart, my panties around my ankles and his cock pressed deep in my cunt. “Fuck my cunt,” I said, using a word I never had before that wonderful moment standing in my kindergarten classroom being fucked by a large West Indian with a massive black cock.

He fucked me for as long as I could stand, then he lifted me up, placed me on the beanbag chair and put his face against my soaking pussy. Thomas Wilson ate my pussy for at least thirty minutes, although I had travesti Beşiktaş lost all sense of time. It could have been an hour, or it could have been three minutes, I had no idea. I just knew I was eurphoric and I kept saying his name over and over as he ate me. He then replaced his mouth with his manhood and kept pushing into me while I came time after time, begging him not to stop and that I loved his cock inside of my pussy.

He fucked me every day for the next three weeks and Sally noticed I wasn’t coming into the lounge after school. Finally she came into my classroom right after the kids left and sat on my desk and smiled. “Girl,” she said, “you got a well-fucked smile on your face these days. Has a big West Indian been spending time in you lately?” she asked with a snicker.

I turned to face her and the smile on my face must have been enough of an answer because she broke out in an joyful laugh and covered her mouth. “Right here in the classroom?” she said behind her hand. I nodded. “Well, you little floozy,” she said with admiration on her face. “I have been pining after our big West Indian and you’ve been fucking him right down the hall from me.”

We shared some gleeful moments of looks of respect and giggled between the two of us. “You been with him any place other than this room?” she asked. I nodded.

“At his apartment,” I said, “and at the Seaside Inn a few times.

“Girl is fucking the custodian at the local motel,” she said with a look of pride. “I imagine he is as big as he looks,” she said. I nodded again and smiled. “Have you ever measured the property?” she asked.

“Nine,” I said holding my hands about nine inches a part.

“Oh my god,” she said, holding her hand once again over her mouth in astonishment. “Does he do third grade teachers, as well?” she asked.

“I’ll asked,” I said. “He says he has a few ladies he keeps happy. So maybe.” Sally came over and hugged me. She was the only person who understood my craving, although Thomas Wilson said many of his ‘ladies’ were white women who preferred black meat to their white husbands.

I understand that Sally has been smiling broadly lately, and although we haven’t talked, I suspect she has been finding happiness in the person of a tall black custodian from Jamaica.

Me, I have been a regular at the Seaside Inn, having a room they give me with a wink every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday right after school gets out. Thomas parks his truck in front of the room and has me undressed before I can even get the door closed.

I must be doing something right, because he keeps showing up with a broad West Indian smile and taking out his huge member to put in me and send me to paradise as soon as he gets into the room. Will I go back? Well occasionally I give a local principal some of my time, usually on weekends. He thinks I am especially happy these days and I surely think he is right. I am a happy and satisfied little proper kindergarten teacher, but often I walk a little bow legged for a while a few hours after school lets out, and yes, I smile a lot these days.