Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Teenagers, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Interracial, Black Female, White Male, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Petting, Sex Toys, Voyeurism, .
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Grace is not exactly sure who she is. She only knows that she is confused about what she wants and she is not sure if she should go with her head or with her heart.
The first time I became fully aware of the fact that I was more dark-skinned than most of the other girls in school happened to be when I was called “a bloody Paki” by the blond haired, blue eyed captain of the girl’s football team right in front of all my friends.
I forget how old I was at the time(pretty close to my seventeenth birthday), but I remember her boyfriend James (an absolute doll) had kissed me in the back of the classroom hoping nobody could see us fooling around. The lights were out at the time because Mister Honeywell was showing a film about pandas playing just like children in a schoolyard. It was really funny but I couldn’t laugh because I was afraid James would think I was making fun of his romantic impulses.
James didn’t use his tongue or anything dirty like that, but it was exciting to me and I wished he did make me open my mouth, because I had this sudden urge to feel the wetness of the inside of his mouth. Now that I have done that a whole bunch of times I understand why. The simple fact of the matter was I was so green that I didn’t have a clue at the time. If anyone had asked me directly at that very second, I would be unable to explain how my lower body was sending signals to my mouth and lips and something down below was definitely in charge at that moment.
Anyway, Goldie (her real name was Doreen) put that label on me and I heard it a lot more often after that and each time it just made me more determined to show I was just as white as the rest of those giggling fools. I had been to some of my friend’s homes just to get a glass of water or to use their bathroom and I could see that little hint of “she’s different” in the parent’s attitude when they saw me next to their lily-white offspring. Now that I think about it, I am certain I suspected I was different and it wasn’t just a lucky case of permanent sun-tan.
I should say that our school was pretty much mostly low-income working class with lots of Irish families thrown in for good measure. We were far enough away from the mixed sections of the city to be almost a white-only club of residents with the exception of a few families including my single parent mother with her brood of four including me. My mom never mentioned my father and I got the distinct impression the four of us didn’t all have the same father because we all looked so different. Actually, my mom was lighter skinned than me, but my other siblings were all far darker than both of us. I suspected she tended to favor me because we looked so much alike and I took after her wild good looks and long tapered legs and arms. I just assumed my siblings had a black or mostly black father and that put them in the “minority” category. I did notice that my hair was different than the other white girls but I figured it was due to the sea air where we lived before coming to the city.
Goldie’s harsh words cut me to the quick and I had no cute response to put her in her place.
My entire world was turned upside down because I knew without a doubt I belonged in the same camp as my brothers and sister.
I was one of them and not a real person after all.
It was a day of me being quieter than I had been in a long time. I couldn’t even look James in the eye because I was so ashamed of my new status. I ran all the way home not speaking to any of my classmates so I could get a real good look at my face in the mirror.
My eyes looked normal, my nose was a bit larger than most other girls but it was cute and turned up slightly. I had a promising dimple on my left cheek that made me look interesting and a bit more mysterious than most. My lips were naturally plump and red without needing any lipstick. My chin was far more strong than weak and my hair framed me nicely with natural curls that I never had to fool around with because they were just there. When I smiled, my teeth were shiny and white as they could possibly be. All in all, I didn’t think I looked like a “Paki”, I didn’t dress like a Paki and I certainly didn’t feel like one.
I had to admit my siblings were almost certainly in that category if I looked at it in an unbiased point of view. The fact I was their sister meant that I was probably in the same status just by the circumstantial facts of the situation.
As soon as my mom walked in the front door, my first words were,
“Am I a black girl, mom?”
My poor mother was exhausted by the long day of work in the candy factory. I knew she was always on the verge of nausea from the overpowering sweet smell of her working environment. Then, she had to face the ride home on the bus with the groping hands of the nasty lads looking to take advantage of any female pressed up tight against their frustrated young bodies. I had been caught up in that circus a few times and I always felt like I needed a shower after getting off at my stop.
“Let your mama sit down, Grace Girl, my, my, that is a whale of a question before I even have my tea.”
I knew instinctively that she was stalling, but it didn’t mean she had bad news for me.
A few minutes later, I discovered that my suspicions were well-founded and that I was just the same as my brothers and sister. Only, I was lucky to have my mother’s genes and was close to being white just like her. She told me that her sister was so white that she was living in Canada as a white lady and her husband from Greece was darker than her. I had seen pictures of Aunt Rose and I had to agree with that assessment. Her children were all a bit dark, but it seemed more from their Greek father, than from the lily white Rose.
I didn’t cry in front of my mother because I was much too afraid of offending her over such a delicate matter. Then, I looked long and hard at my two brothers and my sister and it was so obvious that I wondered how I was able to fool myself for so long. There was no doubt that I was exactly like what Goldie had insinuated with her accusation.
“I was a minority and not a white girl at all!”
That really shook me up because I had spent my whole life thinking about having carnal relations with normal white boys thinking I was the same as them. Now, I had to look at the other boys as candidates for talking me into pulling down my knickers and I had to face up to the fact that white boys might be upset with knowing my true origins.
I wondered if James would turn me down if he knew I was really not white like him.
It didn’t seem fair at all because I looked white, I felt white and I liked being one of the favored ones that would get the nice home, the nice looking boy with a good job, and a place in society just because I was with the majority. Now, I was suddenly on the outside looking in and it didn’t feel like a place I wanted to be. I had always felt a sense of pity for the dark-skinned others with their kinky hair and their way of talking that made little sense to me because I loved speaking correctly at all times and prided myself on a firm grasp of all things grammatical.
Now, I was one of them and knew that I would have to fit in and even change my ways if I wanted some degree of happiness in the world. My only other alternative was to pretend I was something I wasn’t and the pressure of living a lie 24/7 like my Aunt Rose was too terrible to contemplate.
I decided to take James up on his offer of a picture show and an ice cream because I wanted to see if he would still want to have anything to do with me after I told him the truth.
I wanted to tell him when we first met at the appointed place. It just seemed inappropriate because he was all bubbly with the excitement of having me at his side and docile with my inner guilt at not speaking up with the facts of my passing for white. The film was funny but I wasn’t laughing because all I could think about was that James would not be touching me in all those tingling places if he knew who I really was. I tried to reverse the situation in my mind and pictured him as a black boy with an oversized dick and roaming hands that drove me to distraction. I could see me as an innocent white girl and he with his glorious black cock making me take it face down on a big wide bed. He would be pushing my face into the pillow and all I could do was to moan and groan, just like a silly schoolgirl taking it all the way up and unable to do anything about it. Looking at it that way, I could see it didn’t make any difference and I started to think he might think the same way in a similar situation.
We started to walk back home and before we got to my front door, he pulled me into an empty store doorway and started to push his lovely hands up under my short skirt just the way I had imagined he would do the first time. I lost all sense of wanting to tell him the truth and I didn’t try to stop him because I wanted so badly to have a white boy’s cock inside my special place to show me I was normal like all the other white girls.
Before I even realized it, he had my knickers down around my ankles and I opened my legs to keep them from falling down to the dirty ground. Now, he had easy access to both my brown eye and my damp slit just like he had probably been thinking about all evening. The touch of his hard flesh against my most sensitive opening was like a jolt of electricity to my entire system. He pressed hard into my soft cheeks and I leaned against the glass window to keep my balance. I looked through the window and saw we were in front of the butcher shop and there were several sides of cows and pigs hanging from spikes inside.
James poked me in the rear part of my slit insistently and my membrane tore with relative ease. I was no longer a virgin and I looked at the helpless cows and pigs inside the glass knowing I was no different. I understood that poor James saw me as just another piece of meat to be tenderized by his pounding cock and it didn’t make any difference if I was white, black or an Indian Princess.
That was when I decided to keep my business to myself and ignore the rumors being spread by the nasty Goldie because she wanted to keep James all to herself.
I didn’t mind that because I wanted to sample some of the wilder stuff out there now that I didn’t have to act like a stuck-up white girl with no time for a bit of diversity.