I should have noticed then, but I was too engrossed in what I was doing. There were other things on my mind and I was pointing upward and hard by this time.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned as I licked and sucked and nibbled on each tit. Her areola crinkled up and her nipples became hard as I went from one to the other.
The waist band of her skirt was held together by a button on her left side with a long zipper under it. My right hand easily opened the button and slid the zipper down. The skirt naturally stayed where it was until I encouraged it with a push from my hands. It pooled in a circle around her feet.
She was close enough to me for my dick to span the distance between us. All I felt with the end of my dick was smooth skin which I thought must have been silky full size panties.
As I rubbed her I expected to feel her granny panties waiting to be removed. All I felt was skin as I slowly glided my fingers from her waist to her hips and lower. I was starting to wonder if she was wearing any panties at all when I felt a string on each side.
I looked down to see that my dick was rubbing her bare skin just below her navel and just above either the tinniest pair of large bikini panties or the largest pair of tiny bikini panties. They were maroon. It must have been the first time she wore them or it had been a long time since she wore them because her apparently untrimmed pubic hair poofed out on both sides, thick, curly, and black.
“So you really did have a pair of bikini panties back in your room! I’m honored that I got to see them and with you in them.”
She just grinned a big, toothy grin.
“Have you ever had a white man take your panties off.”
“May I remove them?”
“Yes. Please do.”
There is no doubt that lust can close one’s ears as much as it can sometimes close one’s eyes. In this case I didn’t notice how she spoke, but I did notice that she looked better naked and made up than she did in her maid’s uniform. All I could hear were her positive and negative responses. All I wanted at that moment was to give and receive pleasure. I was hornier that night than I had been in a long time.
I knelt before her and took the strings on each side of her panties between the thumb and first finger of each hand and, working them forward and back, I managed to lower them until her whole pubic region was exposed, but because her thighs naturally pressed together, they stuck in her crotch. It would have been possible to just rip them down, but instead I asked her to spread her legs a little more for me. She did so and, except for the gusset in the panties sticking to her wet pussy lips, I had no trouble lowering her bikinis to her feet where she slipped off her sandals and daintily stepped out of them.
She stood before me as I sat back on my heels. I was once again mesmerized. She just smiled. To this day her image is burned into my memory.
I continued to play the asking game.
“Have you ever had a white man touch you?” I asked as I stood up and stepped close to her again.
“May I touch you?”
I placed my hands gently on her face, then moved them to her neck, her shoulders, her arms. The contrast of my light colored skin on her dark chocolate skin was striking. My hands moved inward to her breasts, my fingers caressed her nipples as my hands lifted and squeezed her tits again.
She let out a soft sigh and leaned forward slightly into my hands. Her eyes fluttered, half closed. Her nipples became hard pebbles.
Her back was soft as velvet with iron muscle beneath. I manipulated her muscles and she moaned how nice it felt. I leaned into her, my penis nestling upright into the crack of her ass, and whispered, “I give great back rubs. Maybe later.”
I stepped back and ran my hands down to the small of her back, to her waist, then onto her fleshy derrière. It was as soft as all her skin was, but again, with iron muscle beneath. Soft, but oh, so nice to fondle.
She liked it. A lot! Her hips and butt swayed back and forth rhythmically as I rubbed, and then she pushed herself back toward me, clenching and relaxing her ass cheeks as I squeezed harder and harder.
Her body was leaning forward enough by now that she rested her hands on the bed.
I rubbed, she moaned. I kept rubbing. Always give a woman what she wants in the bedroom is my motto.
But no matter how much she enjoys it, after a while you have to move on, so I stepped slightly to the side, leaving only one hand to rub her cheeks, and slid the other hand to her hanging breast. I pinched and squeezed and played with her breast and nipple while my other hand moved lower and lower until it was just touching her pubic hair from behind.
I said, “Have you ever had a white man finger your pussy?”
“Never,” she squeaked.
“Would you like me to?”
“Yes! Yes, please,” she begged.
My fingers started rubbing her lower lips, ever so gently. North and south, then round and round. Then more of the same, only harder. Her lips were swollen and very wet.
When my fingers were well coated, I pushed two fingers into her as far as they could go. “Ohh,” she moaned as her arms collapsed and her head came to rest on the bed.
I pulled out, then pushed in again.
“Ohhh,” she moaned, low and throaty.
I started a rhythm, going faster and faster, and her moans rose in pitch going through several key changes until she was singing one hell of a high note.
She squeezed her ass cheeks together until I couldn’t move but slightly in and out, cried out, “YES!” and her insides flooded with her climax. She stayed that way for a few seconds, then relaxed and fell forward onto the bed.