He mesmerizes Heather

Wearing only my white babydoll nightie, so short that the slightest tilt would reveal my only other item of clothing, my skimpy white lace panties, I opened our back door. I recoiled slightly as I came face to face with a black boy, at my house to see me. His deep ebony skin and big, dark brown eyes captivated me in a way no boy ever had.He was wearing a tight-fitting white tee-shirt which showed a lithe but muscular chest and long, powerful arms. His waist was flat, trim and firm; his whole being proclaimed power, purpose and strength.

His tight-fitting black jeans allowed me an indication of the bulk of his manhood; the remarkable fist sized bulge revealing to me he wore his daunting sexual member to the left. He was going to use that on me! Oh my goodness!!

I stood open mouthed; my nipples visibly erect in the cool evening beneath the suggestive material of my nightie; not knowing what else to do, I held my arms behind my back and flourished my milk-white breasts shamelessly to entice his embrace hoping this would please him. He held me stock-still with his eyes; his compelling African scrutiny mesmerizing my pale blue eyes and probing me for disobedience or resistance. In that moment at the door, his virility and intensity annihilated any thoughts I had of attempting to delay or deny him his desire.

He smiled self-confidently and I tried unsuccessfully to match. He knew how English girls reacted, he and his brothers knew how to collect us into their harems, he knew the point at which we were consumed by the black rapture and fixing me with his masterful gaze he had now officially spellbound and defeated me.

I stood meekly as he entered and closed the door behind him. A black boy was in my house while my parents lay in bed. Whilst I was anxious about my fate, worried about the momentous consequences of being with him, I was completely in his thrall, utterly incapable of preventing him using me. He faced me, secure in his power to control and colour my future. I was an English plaything for him to enjoy, and although I was ignorant of this particular motivation at the time, I was another woman of the cross to put to use and most crucially, bear fruit for Islam.

I was timid, fearful of saying or doing the wrong thing and I was also apprehensive of what he planned to do me. Not that I feared **** from him, but as a virgin with little experience of men, I was alarmed at what this powerful, eager, well-endowed black boy would do to me during sex. It’s easy to overlook the physical impact of a sexually voracious predatory forceful black man on a smaller, weaker inexperienced white girl’s body.

I expected him to undress me and concentrate on my breasts or perhaps my pussy but he placed his hands gently on my shoulders and tenderly kissed on and around my left ear, then licking and sucking lightly on my earlobe. My ears had never been pierced - I could never bear the idea of metal in my body – and so he nuzzled and sucked without hindrance. I leaned into him, his muscle supporting me.

He then stopped; I breathed again-what next? He was in control, managing our passion, managing me. My heart beat quicker as he took hold of me. "You belong to us, bitch," he whispered, strengthening his hold on me.