Chapter 1: Capturing Eleanor

Eleanor had been working in the university library for some time and realised that she was tired and hungry. She logged out of the computer and gathered up her books, looking at the time on the screen she had been surprised that it was so late; eight o’clock, she hadn’t eaten properly since dinner and that was seven hours ago. She looked around, only one other person lonely enough to be in here at this time on a Saturday evening, the small, slight tired-looking black woman who had been working on the table facing Eleanor since, well Eleanor wasn’t sure but the woman clearly didn’t fancy being the last one here alone as she was packing up too.

Eleanor studied the woman as she logged off and got up. She really did look drained, completely shattered.

Eleanor Ashby was a second year literature student, 20 years old, long light blonde hair, tall- five feet eleven inches; she thought herself reasonably attractive, she had pretty light blue eyes, and she was slightly overweight with nice, heavy breasts (36G) and a firm, well-rounded voluptuous bum. Although she was carrying some extra weight, she had a good hour glass figure, even if it was a slightly thicker, heavier glass than she might have liked.

The tired woman looked up at Eleanor and gave her a weary smile. Eleanor waited for her and they walked out of the library together.

Semira couldn’t have been more dissimilar physically to Eleanor. Her hair was cut very short, black brushed with white, and she was less than five feet tall and possibly no more than 90 pounds in weight, perhaps not much than half that of Eleanor. Eleanor wondered how old she was; anything between 50 and 70. It was hard to say, but the concerned blonde knew that the black woman didn’t look well.

Eleanor offered to carry the smaller woman’s bags. Walking to the lift and out of the building she learned that unlike herself the black woman lived some distance from campus. Eleanor had some pasta in her fridge and offered her some; the black woman protested that she couldn’t possibly eat her food. Eleanor was a good christian however, persuaded her and they were soon at her door.

The young blonde smiled at the older black woman’s formality; she stood at the door waiting for permission to enter, Eleanor took her by the hand and asking her to ‘come in, please’ she sat her down and began to prepare the food.

Semira looked at the christian cross on the wall and was pleased. She asked Eleanor to sit on the couch next to her. Eleanor did as she was asked and sat down, fleetingly wondering why she felt compelled to obey the tiny, feeble, older black woman.

The black woman studied the white girl, and then stroked her long, blonde hair, ‘you are a very attractive girl, I suspect that you have a very sexy body. Why do you hide it under all these clothes?’

Eleanor flushed intensely, yet she shyly welcomed the praise, unconsciously presenting her plump breasts for Semira’s inspection by pushing her chest out, she felt her stimulated rigid pale pink nipples pushing against her bra. Why did she love the touch of the older black woman’s fingers through her hair? She leaned back to encourage the woman to continue caressing her before pulling away mortified that she had acted so wantonly and got up.

Semira knew that she was successfully snaring the white girl. After the illness which had deprived her of her food, she hadn’t fed for 36 hours but now she had captured the lip-smacking fleshy pretty young blonde she had been stalking all day. She could smell her blood in the library, so sweet, so unsullied, so english; it had taken every ounce of her remaining strength and resolve not to jump on the white girl and eat there and then.

‘You should exhibit your breasts; you have big, beautiful tits, but you cover them in this baggy jumper. Take it off; let us see your great beauties, now, yes, now!’ Semira pulled Eleanor back down onto the settee next to her, the proximity of her meal enflaming the African.

Eleanor was dumbfounded; the old woman was actually pulling her jumper up over her head! The strangely deferential english girl did as she was told and raised her arms enabling the woman to remove it. Eleanor watched in astonishment as her jumper was thrown to the floor.

She looked at Semira, the teen wondering frantically if she planned to have sex and then looked at the floor almost in defeat, certainly in shame; she would tell nobody that an old black lesbian had forcibly popped her cherry.

Eleanor was now wearing just her white blouse and the three quarter cup white bra, with her knee length pleated blue skirt and her white knickers underneath.

‘Those bountiful breasts, you are so white, so perfect, so big, and so so heavy! Perhaps you should have babies, you will give so much milk, you have to feed your babies, you have to provide food, you are so blessed, so delicious, so tempting!’ Semira’s appetite was for a bodily fluid other than milk from Eleanor however, and was unable to resist much longer, hurriedly unfastening the buttons on the astonished christian girl’s blouse.

Eleanor desperately tried to stop her but somehow she couldn’t, there was a determination and resolve about the tiny old black woman that overpowered the young blonde.

Off came the blouse and Semira rudely removed her prey’s bra, to Eleanor’s intense humiliation. Her christian cross on her necklace lay between her breasts. Semira studied it triumphantly.

Bountiful, gorgeous, ample heavy white breasts with large bumpy pale pinkness encircling erect, rigid, pale-pink flagpole nipples; exhibited before this commanding yet diminutive old woman who appeared so gaunt but still possessed such will and resolve that she subdued the christian into bewildered obedience. Eleanor crossed her arms over her breasts, mortified and fearful at the lust in the old woman’s eyes.

But it was more than lust.

‘Face me, Eleanor!’ Semira commanded, and just as the whimpering teen with her hands and arms vainly protecting her breasts begged her to stop, the older woman bent over and, pulling away the teen’s defences, kissed her right nipple. She gently and lightly and tenderly tasted the erect, stiff, distended teat. Eleanor was so pink, so pretty and her areole, so bumpy that Semira was almost dizzy with hunger and longing, perhaps she had been slow to alter her diet; maybe she had dined on the same two christians for too long. Becoming lazy, she had forgotten the scrumptiousness in selections in food and the thrill of the hunt.

She had to feed! She had to eat this english girl!

Eleanor almost swooned when Semira’s lips touched her receptive teat.

Eleanor had resisted the guys who had prepositioned her after she had arrived at university. She had been taught at their church that she should be a virgin, pure for marriage but now, with this old, withered woman, she had weakly succumbed.

She had yearned to have her nipples sucked and kissed for so long; her christian resolve weakened and now was crushed; her breasts were submissively offered to Semira and the teen gasped with humiliation when she felt the black woman’s tongue on her throbbing pink tip and then with awakening longing as Semira closed her mouth on her teat and she began to softly suck.