My timid new girlfriend

My Timid New Girlfriend Ch. 1

Warning

+++ The “My timid new girlfriend” series is meant to be way over the top and extremely overexaggerated, and the main character (the boyfriend/father) is meant to be absolutely dumb and blind to what is going on around him. The series is meant to be funny, light reading.

Of course, parts are erotic but for sure not for everyone.

Please be aware that in the different chapters there might be ingredients such as "creampie," "cheating," "femdom," "humiliation," "ridiculing," "contempt," "bareback," "unprotected sex," "BBC," "being auctioned," "gangbang," "reluctancy," and so on.

At the end, I have decided to publish the stories as "fetish."

Please join me in this silly saga, and I hope you enjoy the little jokes! +++

…

After my messy divorce, I got two good things out of it: my 18-year-old daughter would live with me, and I met this amazing woman, April, as I was finalizing the divorce paperwork. She soon became my girlfriend; well, at least, we were like dating every day until she moved in with us after a week. Sometimes it just feels right.

She was a gorgeous 24-year-old brunette with beautiful blue-grey eyes, and she had, adding to that, a very sexy body (35-24-36 in.). She kept fit and must have weighed with her 157 cm (5.2) around 52 kg (115 lbs).

The only thing was, we never had sex. Besides being timid, she shyly said to me she wanted to wait, which I understood. She didn’t let me touch her either, saying this would lead to something beyond our wishes, so I respected that. We did kiss hello and goodbye on the mouth, but never French kissing.

She gave me a picture of her, in our first week together, so I could always remember her. I saw April laying on a bed, in a very sexy black string, a see-through bra and matching black high heels.

She told me it was from a photoshoot she had, before she was being "tossed around." Since one of her parents was British, I supposed it was some kind of expression of having fun?

In public she was the same. Or even shyer. If a large, big Black guy would talk to her, she would somehow sink her head quickly and look at the floor. Or at his pants, merely avoiding eye contact. Sometimes sinking her head too quickly would make her dizzy, she explained me once. That's why she had to support herself often by placing her small hand on his large bulge. It was the nearest thing to her face, so that made sense to me. You always grab the nearest thing in an emergency, regardless of if it is proper behavior or not. No time to think.

She would leave her hand there, having real troubles with her blood circulation system and thus even grabbing that large shaft through the fabric. Sometimes she was so dizzy, again supporting herself on a massive shaft, that she asked me in an urgent tone to go and get her a full bucket of cold bathroom water so she could wash her face.

This would take me a considerable amount of time; I had to find a bucket, go to the men’s bathroom all the way in the back of the restaurant, and somehow try to fill it with my hands, because the bucket wouldn’t fit under the faucet in the sink. I always felt bad (yes, she asked for this many, many times), but I felt bad because most of the times it took me like half an hour to return, and that is very slow for first aid. As I would finally return with the requested bucket full of water (she always wanted it completely full, even if she used only one or two palms of water), sometimes she must have fallen with her head on the table, because I would see the white remains of her dessert on her face, close to her sweet little mouth.

She normally would order white chocolate mousse, and yes, I might find her with ropes of mousse around her mouth. Within the critical situation of her almost losing her consciousness, it also had a romantic touch, and I would be the sweet future husband by scooping up those white mousse strings from her pretty face and offer her my finger, which she always hungrily cleaned by opening her mouth wide, swallowing it willingly and afterwards sucking my finger clean. Somehow, I felt that she was very experienced with having a large finger in her mouth, she never gagged.

One day, the same thing happened, but this time she scooped it up herself, feeling not that dizzy, for which I was thankful, and offered me her finger, with abundant mousse on it. I gladly took her finger in my mouth, this being the closest of having an erotic moment with her. I noticed my penis getting hard. As I sucked in the mousse, I was surprised by its taste; it was like salty-sweet, and I hadn’t expected that. Besides that, the ropes were very sticky and tenacious, and I really had to "work" it to get it all in my throat. Even then, it was only slowly sinking towards my stomach.

The funny thing was, she knew a little cafe where they made milkshakes, and as I waited outside (which she always asked me), she would disappear for at least 20 minutes to order herself a shake. As she let me sip from it, it had the exact same salty-sweet taste as her mousse. I didn’t like it in the beginning, but as I was sucking on the straw and I wanted to retrieve my head, she put her small hand on the back of my head and pushed my mouth on the straw, making me drink more of her protein shake.

But I didn’t care; I was in love.

I truly cannot say if she had an affair after she moved in or not. We just met, and I am not sure at what point you have a relationship. It was in the second week of dating/living together, and since we did not have sex, I wasn't even sure if we had a relationship. with her when I heard a car door being closed in front of my place. Somebody had brought her back by car from their late office meeting.

April came to my door very excited, looking radiant, with a certain sweaty glow on her face of being truly satisfied, and her hair was all messy and undone. I saw a button missing from her tight work shirt, and the zipper of her leather skirt was open. I really liked that office shirt, though; it was tight around her breasts and accentuated her sexy 35-24-36 feminine figure. Sometimes it looked as if all the buttons would pop, releasing those magnificent mamillas for everybody to see.

The funny thing was, she would only wear that tight shirt for certain late meetings. Same as that short leather skirt, which barely covered her hips at all. I suspected that if she dropped something by accident, bending over to pick it up, anybody standing behind her would see her little lovebox. She told me once she only wore underwear when she was seeing me and didn’t like to wear underwear at the office. She felt as if it restricted her, she explained, as if there was no easy access. I didn’t understand what she meant, but I was glad that she was going out with me, even if I had to pay for everything.

But, as I was once about to pay the horrendously high restaurant bill the big waiter brought us, she was so kind and told me to wait; she would talk to him and left me sitting alone at the table, following him. She had shared several glances with him during our meal, especially as he asked if she was satisfied, which of course was in relation to her meal. She answered him, looking him in the eyes, that she needed a big dessert and something sweet, like a creamy pie.

The funny thing is, as I asked later what she had chosen for dessert, she replied, “Nothing from the menu.” I guess she was watching her calories. So, she left me sitting alone, and I hope she could perhaps negotiate a 10% discount? She was gone for an eternity; I believe at least half an hour.

I was about to order a dessert for me alone when they brought me a dessert on the house, a 25 cm (9 inch) long, roundly shaped chocolate bar with two big dark caramel balls at the beginning of the rod. If I hadn’t known better, I would say it looked like a gigantic phallus with two big balls.

I thought it was a nice gesture, and I enjoyed the abundant chocolate. The chocolate rod and the two large balls had some white, thick cream inside, which was hard to scoop up with my dessert spoon. Somehow, another very attentive Black waiter recognized my problem and quickly gave me a large straw. “Try to suck it, sir,” he politely suggested. “It is best enjoyed when still warm.” He added. I looked up at him, wondering, so with the tip of my index finger I pricked into the white mass, and some kind of sticky rope stuck to it. Bringing it to my mouth, I stuck my tongue out, tasting an unexpected kind of salty-sweet taste. Surprisingly nice. Especially because it was still warm. It must be some kind of special dessert because it was not on the menu.

The large straw was the right tool for the job. I was now easily able to suck into my mouth the ropes of the whitish filling, enjoying its taste. I reminded myself to ask if they also had a latte macchiato with salted caramel, which would match perfectly with this sticky dessert.

A Black waiter came to my table; he told me politely, almost apologizing, that the chef had made too much dessert, and two balls were still available, free of charge. It would be a true waste to throw them away, he added, since they were freshly filled.

“Are they filled with the warm cream?” I asked, trying to sound like a man of the world.

“Yes, sir, I just filled them myself.”

“Excellent, yes, please let me have them, thank you so much.”

The big chocolate balls were quickly brought to me, the waiters not wanting the contents to cool down too much. As I took the first chocolate cream bite, to my great pleasure the cream was indeed very warm, the same temperature as the body temperature. I was in heaven and enjoyed my second dessert like a little boy. But I still didn’t know what the white cream was. Even rolling it over my tongue, left and right, I could not quite pinpoint it.

Another Black waiter asked me after I finished my dessert if everything was OK. I said I loved it. He replied, smiling, that my escort did too.

“How do you mean?” I asked him, wondering about his words. For a second I thought he meant “my whore.”

“Your escorting lady,” he replied.

“Does she come here often?” I asked, a bit surprised.

“Oh yes, she loves coming here several times a week, and each time as often as possible.” He answered with a mocking look and then left me, me still waiting for her. Funny way of speaking, I thought. Besides that, she must have quite some money if she could afford to come here so often.

“Do you have latte macchiato with salted caramel?” I asked another waiter.

“Even better, sir,” he replied. “If you wish, we can make the same filling for your latte macchiato as you had in your dessert, but it takes about 20 minutes.”

It sounded a bit long to me, the preparation time for a simple latte macchiato, but what the heck, and I ordered the special latte. I had enough time. Indeed, roughly 20 minutes later my latte macchiato was brought to me by the same waiter, but he looked a bit sweaty. As if he had to handle something heavy and big.

What annoyed me a little bit was that, as the large Black waiter was standing very near me, the waiter's zipper was open, and he had some white stains on his pants. I could even see he wore no underwear, because through the zipper's opening, I saw a large glistening, flaccid cock, all shiny from some kind of moistness, as if he had just used it. I made a gentleman's remark about it, not wanting to embarrass him, that his zipper was open.

He was clearly shocked and apologized profoundly to me. What surprised me is that he undid the button of his pants and lowered his pants all the way to his knees, showing me not only his massive cock, of at least 8 inches, but also his two big shiny balls.

“I need to readjust everything, sir.” As he grabbed his enormous cock in his hand and held it in plain view, the cockhead pointing towards me, close to my face. He then tucked everything away and closed his pants properly.

“Enjoy my self-made latte macchiato, sir.” He politely said it and left. The good thing was that I could see that the upper third of the latte contents was the delicious cream. This time I would be able to drink the special filling with big gulps, instead of having to use a straw. Some kind of grains and jelly-like clumps got stuck between my teeth and under my tongue as I was drinking it, but after moving my tongue around and moving the cream left and right inside my mouth, I was able to swallow them too. With one last big swig and a satisfied look on my face, I emptied the long glass, feeling well fed.

Nevertheless, I drank too much latte macchiato with my creamy black dessert, so I went to the men's bathroom. As I walked through the corridor, I passed the lady’s bathroom, and I heard some rhythmic thuds against its door. Accompanying the thumps was, in a matching vocal cadence, some kind of groaning, as if somebody was being hit with something large. It didn’t sound violent, though, more like a willing grinding, as if somebody was in the gym doing sets with weights a bit too heavy but was still focused on accomplishing the challenge at hand. Those typical “Oh!” “Oh!” “Oh!” cries.

I walked on and found the men's bathroom. Once I was done, I washed my hands and returned to my table, but she was still not back. That must be quite a deep discussion, I thought. I hope she was showing him right!

Finally, she came back, somehow walking slowly, as if she had hurt herself.

“Are you OK?” I asked because, as soon as she sat down, somehow, she sat on only one ass cheek, as if she was being considerate to her butt, leaning to one side. After a minute or two, she was able to sit straight, letting out a content long sigh, her face having a very satisfied expression.

“Yes, I am very OK now.” She answered, almost contemptuously.

Weird, I thought. I noticed she no longer wore a bra, and her nipples were jutting hard against the thin fabric of her top, as if she was cold. Poor her, the bathroom probably had no heating, although I could see small beads of sweat on her forehead.

“Could you handle the waiter?” I asked, “Did he give you something at least?”

“Oh, yes, he gave me plenty.” She smiled. “But let’s go home; I feel worn out, honey.”

“Any discount?”

“No, not this time.” She smiled. “But I took care of his surcharge.” She replied, smiling.

…

Back to now.

As my hardworking girlfriend greeted me in the hallway and for the very first time, she gave me a long French kiss, invading my mouth with her tongue, spiralling around mine, and distributing all her spit deep inside my mouth. It even felt as if she had some extra spit stored in her mouth especially for me, and she was transferring it all into mine. I loved her soppy spit, but after doing this, it tasted salty, and she was the only one so far in my life who had this. No other girlfriend in my past had this gene defect, but I never mentioned it to her.

“Come with me to the bedroom.” She said with a hushed tone, holding my hand, leading me quickly. I followed, very excited about the chance that she might exchange more than just the large amount of spit she just shared with me.

Switching off the lights of the bedroom, she told me in an urgent but very sexy and persuasive way that she needed to be licked quickly before it was too late. I didn’t understand the hurry, but normally, in the first weeks of any new relationship, you do your best to make your partner happy.

I had secretly licked her before, but only once, as she was very drunk. But this time her pussy felt larger, as if it had been stretched, and her juices tasted somehow different. As she was grinding her faithful pussy on my mouth, I did my very best to satisfy her, because she was very wet and I had trouble swallowing it all.

Her juices had a new flavor each time; it tasted slightly different. Sometimes sweeter, sometimes saltier. As if she had several different layers of milkshakes stacked on top of each other. The weird thing was that I could barely put my mouth over her outer cunt lips. As if she had been working out or something. Somehow, I managed to swallow it all and lick her clean. I felt proud.

“Honey,” she whispered, “I had a little mishap at work.”

“What do you mean, dear? You can tell me everything.”

She understood that I was open minded, “I am truly sorry,” she whispered. “I couldn’t say no to their strong, seductive arguments.”

“What was that?” I asked.

“My colleagues. They asked if I wanted to have a Black baby bulge. And I could not decline their kind request.” She answered.

“What do you mean? So how many were there?”

“I just don’t know; I lost count after the fifth cock filled my slit with Black baby seed. But I promise you I will count next time!” My girlfriend added, with a resolute tone.

"But they were very kind to me; I was always alone with only one big throbbing cock in the office's bedroom; the others waited patiently outside. They were very considerate, until of course, they started plowing me." She added.

Damn, I was so lucky. I had just successfully prevented her from having an illicit Black baby. Because those cocks must have been very large, Black baby makers. There was no other explanation. That's why her pussy was so stretched. Did she scream as the first one penetrated her? Did she come on the first big Black cock as it was impaling her, reaching her womb easily, hitting that cheating cervix?

“Don’t worry, honey, you only cheated once, and you are truly sorry; I believe you. I am not a cuckold because of one single affair, even if you emptied with your pussy at least 10 big pulsating balls.”

“Well, honey, that’s partially incorrect.” She replied with a smirk on her face, which quickly disappeared into a pouting look.

“They convinced me to suck them first, because they didn’t want to hurt me.”

“What?” I asked, not understanding the “hurt thing.”

“Yes, they were all going to fuck me anyway, but they had no lube. So, they recommended sucking them first, to make lubricate their exquisite cocks”

“And you did?”

“Well, eh, yes, until things went wrong.” She replied.

“What do you mean?”

“I did suck each cock, but I lost track of time with the first one until he erupted in my mouth, making me swallow all his sweet Black baby cum. After that, I was determined not to let it happen anymore, but the second one tasted so good that it happened again.”

“So how many did you give a full blowjob to?” I asked, almost speechlessly.

“I gave at least four a proper blowjobs, as expected.”

“What do you mean with ‘expected’?”

“Well, you know, the whole thing, licking their throbbing cock heads, playing with their balls, making them cum and filling my stomach with their lovely warm seed.”

“And number five?”

“Well, as I was sucking him, and I swear, I was really doing my utmost best to make him come, but his staying power was endless, so he decided to fuck me instead. Well, I was very thankful for that, because after so many loads of Black cum, my stomach was very full with their rich proteins. I even had to burp two or three times.” And she chuckled, finding it hilarious.

“Ok, so you only gave four men a real blowjob.”

“Well, yes and no… There is more.”

“What do you mean?”

It was “bring your kid to work day”, so I brought your daughter with me.

“So, she didn’t come home with you, where is she now?“

“Well...” My girlfriend replied. "She loved helping me out as I was working those black shafts. So I decided to assist her as well and I held her firmly, once or twice, until she was able to handle the penetrations of those beautiful cocks all by herself. After that, she wanted to stay a little bit longer than me..."

To be continued.