Heather climaxes

My heart pounded as I read what I wrote, out there and taunting me. And teasing him. "Do I?" I asked myself, feeling a smile tug at my mouth.

"Yes!" came the reply, then repeated, "YES, YES, YES, YES, YES, YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" His words seemed to fill my laptops screen, and I laughed with relief despite myself. I hoped he'd be nicer now, no references to white slavery or other horrid things.

But still I trembled, awaiting more. I had meekly given what he wanted; he was exultant that he maneuvered me to confess that I liked nigger cock. Now I awaited his next order for me.

In his triumph he typed, ‘Im gonna make BIG LOVE to you-my thick black cock in you=your fantasy gonna come true xxxxxxxxxxx’.

I couldn’t really believe how he had done it; I'm a pretty little white girl from a well-off English family, this black brute wanted me for his own, but within minutes he had me declaring my need and love for black cock. Now I realized, whatever the reason, however I had been persuaded, it was evident that I would not be able to discourage him-there was not a chance that he would let go of me now. He began to type some more.

‘Say how much you love Somali cock xxxxxx’.

I was by now squirming on my seat, self-control in tatters, my right hand on my left breast, teasing my erect, rigid nipple out of my bra and caressing it and two fingers of my left hand rubbing my wet slit through my knickers. Knowing that a black boy was impatient to have my virginal white body thrilled, fired and unsettled me; I needed to tell him how much I needed Somali cock but I couldn’t take my fingers away from my pulsating body. My fingers provoked my responsive clit and moved inside the protection of my soaked panties and stroked my labia, now oozing and sopping in the hope of penetration. I delighted in the size of my nipple, it was huge! Beautiful, erect, pink and sore from my clutching and squeezing I gazed at my pink teat and my mind was overrun with images of Samir, naked and in me and on me. I shook and quivered-orgasmic rapture swamped me, my fingers now inside me frantically kept pace with the eruption of joy within me and I experienced shuddering bliss, trembling and moaning with pleasure.

‘Heather, are you a Christian girl? Xxxxxxx’

The combination of my soaked state, brought to an awesome orgasm inspired by a black Somali and my being a Christian unbalanced me. I moved my fingers from my breast and vagina and wiping my juice on my thigh I knew he aimed to dismantle my defences further, imposing himself on me to conquer and enjoy as he wished.

Was it too late for me? Could I resist- or were my heart and body his already?

And I wondered why he wanted to know that I was from a church-going family?