Chapter 1: The Rebellious African Girl

Zeke jumped up and ran down the porch steps, out onto the sidewalk, tail wagging. That was odd, because Zeke is trained to sniff hot pussy, and the girl he was flirting with wasn’t.

She was (as usual) dressed in some sort of head to toe Muslim sack like garment with a headscarf, so only her black face showed. It was a pretty face, very pretty. Her skin was very dark, a pure African skin that was rare in the USA. She had a pointed chin and a pointed nose, big dark eyes. She was small, around 5’6”, a couple of inches shorter than me.

The girl was not for me. I’m a pervert you see, and old pervert who hankers after young pussy. And sometimes, I get some. I cruise around on my bike, checking the highway rest area near the girls boarding school for runaways. I lurk outside high school parties at night. I try to get a girl talking, or onto the back of my motorcycle, I buy a meal, flirt, go out to the beach, let them play with my secret weapon, Zeke. Girls just love Zeke, he’s cute and fluffy.

Sometimes, I get a girl into my bed. They don’t stay there long though; I’m old, grey, poor, and not very good at fucking. That’s ok, because girls that turn me on are too young for me. They would never stay long anyway. They get the “Bad old man biker” experience and go back to mommy and daddy.

Anyway, the African schoolgirl petted my buddy Zeke and he was all friendly. “I thought you weren’t allowed to touch dogs.” I commented.

“Don’t tell my dad!” she laughed. I’d never even seen her smile before. I have to say, she looked good when she smiled.

“I’m Chuck.” I told her.

“I’m Maryam.” She said brightly, her white teeth contrasting with her dark chocolate face.

Her family lived around the corner; her mother wore the getup too, and her dad wore an ethnic hat and had that square cut beard that let everyone know he was a follower of that faith. He was ok, he’d stopped to give me a jump start once. They were refugees from Zambia, they seemed well off though. He drove a late model Mercedes.

Maryam went on her way and Zeke came back onto the porch to wait for the next friendly person.

One hot night a few weeks later, the girl appeared in my back yard as I was grilling some sausages. She was wearing loose pants, a tee shirt, and her hair was uncovered, tied behind her head. She stared at the grill.

“Can I have one?” she asked.

“It’s pork.” I informed her.

“I know.” She replied, “Just don’t tell my dad.”

Now her dad was the sort of man it was better not to mess with; and I know that sort, because I’m one too. Still, if someone is at my place and asks for food, I give them food. And if a schoolgirl wants to hang around, or talk, or whatever; well, that’s ok with me too.

We ate together in silence. It took an effort not to stare at her, because she was gorgeous. Her teenage figure, tight ass and tiny waist, her wavy black hair, her bright eyes.

Then she thanked me and slipped away into the back alley between the houses.

She started coming by regularly, and we talked. Talk was like rain in a desert to her, she seemed to light up and it was easy to get her laughing; I found myself thinking up new jokes and stories to tell her when she’d come by. And after she left, I’d jerk off and think of her fondly.

She’d lived stateside since she was 5. That was when? 10 years. Ok, got it. Dangerous, but not illegal. She was 15 years old and I was 65.

Ok, look, I’m an old man. You could say, a dirty old man; because I always hankered after young girls. I didn’t expect to get physical with Maryam, it didn’t even matter. Just laughing and flirting with a sweet young thing like her was reward enough for my time and the output of my grill. Yeah, it was silly. Was I ‘grooming’ her? I honestly don’t know. Is that the same as flirting?

I was about as white as she was black. Some tats, some scars, a lifelong biker. I sort of inherited this suburban house from my wife; I can live in it but I don’t get title, I can’t sell it. When I die, it would revert to her family trust. In other words, I have nothing. I’m a poor man in a middle class house.

Autum came around, and Maryam kept doing so too. Only late, in the dark, through the ally. We moved inside.

She liked to use my computer or watch “the Simpsons”, her dad didn’t let her at home. He thought it was a bad influence. Anyway, there’s like 100 seasons of it so we were binging every night until late.

Hanging out, sharing laughter and food, the shelter of my home. Primal shit. I was in love with her, even though I was sure I could never have her; I tried to force my feelings into a platonic state, she could be my daughter, or granddaughter. Except she wasn’t. She was flirting with me all the time too, I jerked off every night thinking about her. Not her gorgeous slim teenage body; I imagined her face, her smile, my fantasy was that she’d take pleasure at my touch, my kiss, my old penis would pass between her pretty lips and she’d like it. That’s my thing; I’m turned on by a girl being turned on. That’s it and that’s all, if she isn’t interested then neither am I.

An old girlfriend of a friend of mine was newly widowed and I wanted to invite her over. She wasn’t a sure thing, but if I got her she’d cook, clean, suck, fuck, ride with me on my bike, and be my old lady. She was old, grey, hefty, and actually a possibility.

The African teenager laughed at another joke; Fuck, she was beautiful when she laughed. I had to either get between those thin thighs, or break it off with her.

“How about a kiss goodnight?” I asked her as she was leaving.

She stared at me wide eyed. “Ok.” she said.

The first one was barely anything. Just a peck. It was enough for me, something to work with. Over the next month we started to hug, and kiss a little longer. I touched her perfect chocolate skin with my hands, caressed her, and she seemed to like it. I knew it was wrong to try and change our friendship into a sexual relationship; my house was her refuge, her escape. I’d gained her trust, and now was abusing it. And I’d take it as far as she’d go too.

She wanted anything forbidden; I was sure she’d ask me for booze soon, and probably cigarettes or dope. Giving her any of that would get me in trouble, not sharing it with her would drive a wedge between us; it would force me to treat her as a child who was too young for those things but not for the other things I wanted to do with her. So I got rid of my booze and smokes.

I’d been drinking and smoking for a half century, so that was no small achievement. Withdrawals were killing me, and then Maryam slipped in though the back door, and her bright smile took all the tension from my mind.

I’d had this disease many times before, the fixation on a woman or girl. I knew it was warping my mind, probably unhealthy, it might even kill me. It sure was fun though. If I actually got to fuck her, it was worth all that and more. If I never fucked her (far more likely), then stopping my nasty habits was still a pretty big achievement. I resolved to stay clean until she was no longer a possibility.

I was too fat, so I went on a 20 day fast and dropped 20 pounds. I’d done that before, it works for me. It was worth doing even if I never got my old dick inside my sexy little neighbor.

As we watched TV together, I took her hand; so small, so fine. She let me hold it, and stroke it. Her eyes watched the screen as her nipples pushed through her tee shirt. That was when I realized I might really fuck her; because she kept wanting more. More touch, affection, attention.

Back when I was riding with my pals in the club, we picked up girls from time to time. Some running from relationships, abusive men or just poverty. They knew the price of getting onto one of our Harleys; and the benefits. Some were underage, runaways. Their boyfriends or husbands or parents couldn’t harm them while they were biker babes. No one fucked with biker gangs. Clubs I mean.

We were a patriarchal bunch, women were mostly subservient, and cared for. Women did the cooking and cleaning, and then went to bed with whoever they were told to go to bed with. In return, we offered food, shelter, and safety (from others). Some stayed for years, most moved on after they’d had the experience. The thing was, we always respected our women, in our way. Yeah, we could be violent, but never to our women. It wasn’t our way. We were a small club, more like a commune really. Mostly harmless.

Anyway, what I mean is that I’m no “modern” man. I’m no scum either, I didn’t want to hurt her. Just, you know, have some fun maybe.

She seemed to melt into me when I caressed her small body. Just her shoulders, arms. Hands. Belly. She needed to be touched; she needed love. She didn’t need sex; I did.

My hand slipped higher; under her shirt. Her breathing seemed to pause. My hand was aching to fondle her tight little tits, but I forced it back. I kissed her, she wanted more, I think she did, how could a teenage girl want to make out with a dirty old man?

Everyone is different. There are a thousand perversions. What is a perversion though? 1; distortion or corruption of the original course, meaning, or state of something.

Well, if the purpose of sex is reproduction, it would not be a perversion, because that could happen. If the purpose is emotional bonding, that was working too. So by this definition, it would not be a perversion if I fucked the girl.

2; sexual behavior that is considered abnormal and unacceptable.

Uh oh. Looks like I’m in trouble.

My fingers raked through her hair, our tongues danced, my cock ached to know her touch. If we did it, she’d love me, or hate me, maybe both.

“It’s late, you’d better go home.” I told her.

“Really?”

“Go home and think about it.” I told her. “I’ll be here if you decide to come back.”

As I watched her slim young body slip away into the night, I wondered what was more terrifying; her coming back for more, or not coming back at all.

The next time she was over, I decided it was time to make my play. She was 16 by then, old enough to decide for herself if she wanted to submit.

“Take your clothes off.” I told her neutrally.

She froze, shocked. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, she might run away and not come back.

“Really?” she asked. She looked terrified.

“Yeah, go on.” I told her.

I’d been to girly bars, I’d seen strip shows and pole dancers. None of them was as mind bendingly sexy as that teenaged girl from Africa slowly removing the coverings from herself. Her legs were long and lean, her ass two perfect black globes, her tits hand sized cones of desire. She stared at me with her big clear eyes, her breathing ragged.

“That’s enough, leave the panties on.” I said, responding to her hesitation. “Come over here and sit on my lap.”

Her tight little ass rested on the sofa between my open legs, and I supported her head in the crook of my right arm as my left gently stroked her, and we kissed softly for a long time. Her hands held my old face, raked through my curly grey chest hair, squeezed the chunky muscles of my arms. Her manual exploration of my tough old frame thrilled me more than my own hands touching her body; because it was participation, it was acceptance.

I let my finger slide down between her open thighs. She squirmed and chirped, it was wet there and I wanted to fuck her like I’d never wanted to fuck before. The look in her eyes told me that she would let me, that at that moment, she wanted it too.

“It’s late.” I told her. “You’d better go home.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Look, you know where this goes. I want you to think about it for a couple of days, and if it’s what you want, then I’ll be here waiting.”

I went to my doctor and had a full checkup. I hadn’t gotten laid for a while, but the last woman I’d been with was a total slut. Anyway, he said I was good to go.

Maryam came back in through my back garden after dark, closed the door behind herself, and took off all her clothing. It was touch she craved; my hands on her body seemed to nourish her.

We made out again; my old cock was aching with desire for her, and her young vagina was wet for me too. Some part of me hesitated; it was wrong to take this girl, to abuse her affection, her trust, her momentary desire. She’d regret it forever, she’d remember me with disdain, with disgust if I fucked her.

On the other hand, I’d remember her quite happily. Yeah, I could do with one last good fuck before I lost the power to do it.

I lifted her up, carried her to my bedroom, and set her down on my bed. I pointed to her crotch and indicated she should take off her underwear. The final test; if she did that, there would be no more barrier to sex.

She lifted her ass and slid the garment down her long dark legs, then her knees opened and I was looking into her glistening pink pussy, and it was the most beautiful pussy I’d ever seen.

As my tongue sliced across it, I still had doubts about pushing my old rod into her. She grunted and her pelvis lifted, her fingers clenched into my long thin hair, and I knew she was going to be good.

“I’m going to have to fuck you now.” I whispered.

“I know.” She replied breathlessly.

“Do you want that?” I asked.

“I think so.” She choked.

Close enough, I figured.

I kissed her firm little tits, her flat black belly, and her sweet virgin pussy again, surrounded by a fledgling nest of fine black hair.

I took her ankles in my hands, held them wide, and maneuvered my stiff rod to her wet open slot.

I’m no porn star size wise, but I still get good and hard. A small adjustment of my hips, a little poke, and the tip of my old white cock was inside her. She gasped and bucked upwards, causing further penetration. I followed though and slid it deep.

Holy fuck; tight, wet perfection. A feeling like no other, tight wet virgin pussy!

Then I stopped. It would be going too far; she was already addicted to touch, what would happen to her if I made her come?

“Come on, come on!” she insisted, her little fingers on my loose ass. So yeah, I got to work; I held myself over her, scraping her nipples with my chest, looking into her beautiful dark young face as my cock slid in and out of her eager vagina. She was excited, afraid, and quite aroused. I just needed to give it to her a little harder, just a little, and I knew she’d come.

The trouble was, I’d come too. I never could control it; I always thought that when I got old, I’d gain that power. I never did. Sorry, I’m an old guy with a small dick and premature ejaculation. Still, I had to make her come. It was her first time, she had to have an orgasm!

Just a little harder, I knew I was in the danger zone, her little whimpers and her breathing let me know she was close too.

She came like thunder, a rumbling turning into a boom of wild delight. Her pretty face in my hands, her big dark clear eyes sucking the life out of me was far more than I could handle. I failed to postpone the inevitable, and blasted into her.

I knew she wanted more; so did I, but my balls were empty and my old dick went soft. Her big eyes looked at me curiously; she had no one to compare me to, she probably thought one orgasm was all there was. I don’t pretend that I’m a good guy. I’m a dirty old man who seduced a school girl, and then gave her half assed sex as I took her cherry. I felt ashamed; her family were religious zealots, who was I to fuck with her this way?

She smiled up at me. Even though I was a loser, a broke grey old man with a flaccid cock, she smiled. I had to give her more, I had to give her everything.

I pulled out of her polluted pussy and rolled onto my back. “Suck my cock.” I told her.

“Huh?” she asked.

“You heard me girl, go on and get to it now; that’s what you have to do to a guy after he comes.”

“Really?” she asked doubtfully. She’d never done that before, we’d made out a lot and she’d had it in her hand, just not her mouth.

I grabbed a handful of her great thick black hair and gently pulled her face to where I wanted it, and stuffed my soft wet rod in with my other hand. She was a good girl; she sucked dutifully, looking up at my face as she worked. It was a dangerous gambit; I didn’t know if I could get erect again or not. Shit, I should have gotten some Viagra or whatever. Now I was abusing the girl to try and compensate for my own inadequacy.

“Men come easier than women, generally speaking, so you need to do this. Most guys will get hard again. Ok, I’m old so I don’t know if it will still ... Oh fuck, I guess it does. Don’t stop now, sweety! Oh yeah!”

“Mmmm!” she grunted happily as my rod stiffened in her mouth. She was a natural born cock sucker; she liked to please. So did I, so I pulled it out of her mouth, rolled her onto her back, and put it back into her sensitive little pussy.

I suppose that wasn’t a great idea; because I couldn’t come again, I just stayed hard and fucked the girl. I don’t know how many times she came; many though. Actually, no girl or woman I was ever with before came like that teenage African girl. When I was done with her, she was wrecked. Her thin body was exhausted, and her young mind was washed out. She looked at me differently now; she was in love with me.