Interracial Erotica -
Chasing Fairy Tales
By Tracy Ames
Published on February 22, 2011
How do you tell someone you want to be fucked within an inch of your life without sounding like a total whore? This was Alison's dilemma with Matt. Then, in walked AJ. A gal has to have choices, right?

Chasing Fairy Tales

IRE Scoville Scale: Sinfully Satisfying

How do you tell someone you want to be fucked within an inch of your life without sounding like a total whore? This was my dilemma with Matt. We met my first day at Channel Five where I’m a technical advisor and Matt is the hot smarty-pants who does complicated shit that makes my head spin. If I’m to be judged cruelly, I should mention that this was my first position after leaving university. Before then my resume sparkled with puffed up work experience from Hot Dog on a Stick, Go-Go Service Station and a couple of Dickens' worthy fables that passed as references.

Judge me accordingly.

A month in, Matt and I were assigned to the same team at one of those corporate charities, photo ops where everyone turns up wearing overalls and pretends to build a house while the local media shoots footage. Unsurprisingly, Matt spoke a total of three sentences to me and I swear two weren’t even English. You see, Matt’s a true professional, whereas I turn off the industry lingo the second the clock strikes five. I’m a reformed social misfit turn pint sized mocha princess. I’m not one of the tight sweater wearing types who fawned over him, but these women didn’t seem to be his type either. He ignored them. Hell, after lasik surgery, ten years of carb restriction, and an orthodontist bill large enough to kill a horse, my chances of scoring a mercy glance were looking good….or so I told myself while picking out our children’s names.

Why didn’t I just talk to him?

It’s not that cut and dry. Matt’s a God amongst men: tall, dark, and handsome, well educated, a wide toothy smile and the biggest, bluest puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen. But best of all, he’s also a reformed geek who’s oblivious to depth of his hotness. I had this reoccurring dream where we’re having crazy sex but instead of him whispering pillow talk in my ear, he’s telling me how to consolidate my school loans. It’s weird but it got me off and if I could've trust myself to carry on an adult conversation with him I would've but as it stood, I couldn’t be trusted. Allow me to share an example of our past conversation:

Matt: Blah blah…press this button…blah blah…the black button is for…blah blah…monitor...

In my head I’m thinking: What nice arms you have. Hold me!

Matt: Yadda yadda blah blah…video output…yadda blah yadda…countdown...

In my head: I’m ovulating. Let’s make babies!!

Matt: Blah blah …I’ve set up the…(bends over to unplug something I can’t pronounce, his ass looking exceptionally yummy)…blah blah…it should be working now…

In my head: You want to meet in the supply closet after lunch?! I’m not hungry. Let’s go NOW!

Matt: Did AJ (our boss) show you how to…yadda yadda?

In my head: No, but I’d let you take a stab at it. *purrrr*

My verbal reply: Um…er…geez. No. He didn’t. (must…not…vomit…on…shoes)

See what I mean?! I shouldn’t have been allowed metal flatware!


Like the social whore I am, I joined the rest of the twenty-somethings for Friday evening drinks at our local, overcrowded dive. Matt was there, pretending he wasn’t head over heels in love with me. There were others but they paled in his light. All except AJ; he’s a new level of hot. Whereas Matt is young, wholesomely hot, and hell bent on self-denial; AJ is sneaking up on forty, polished, suave, million dollar condo-living, ‘I can do naughty things to your body’ hot! Both tall, fit, and Brad Pit delicious.

All was going fine until AJ walked over and kissed my neck, and my ear. He whispered, “Go down the hallway towards the bathroom. Second door on the left. Take your panties off and wait for me.”

I couldn’t move.

“Relax. Don’t be nervous. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” I felt his breath course through me.

I went to the small lounge and dropped my panties straight to the floor. AJ came in, locked the door, and without so much as a hello hoisted me up and placed me on the edge of the sofa. With scarcely a moment to think, he pushed my skirt up over my opened thighs, forced me back, went down between my legs, and began licking and sucking my pussy.

“Oh fuck!” I could narrowly breathe. It’s hard to say which is more pleasurable: the thought of our exhibition being discovered or the fact that my boss, the man responsible for my livelihood, was worshiping at the altar of the clit Goddess. And worship he did! I began seeing stars! “Damn.” Savoring the exquisite sensation of my clit trapped and vibrating in AJ’s mouth.

“Everything alright up there?” AJ tilted his head back with a devilish gleam in his eyes that screamed, “I’m gonna fuck you up”.

I nodded.

“Good.” He held my ass tight and buried his face between my legs. His mouth covered my clit, his tongue licked my folds. He broke open the arsenal: nibbling my clit, fingering me, licked me up and down, side to side, back and forth. The long, measured strokes of his soft tongue were everywhere, exploring, dipping, licking, and sucking. Again he nibbled my clit and I came in a loud squeal—my legs closed against his head. He spread them open and continued to feast. I tried wiggling away but his tongue and fingers teased my pussy with such skill I was obliged to lay there take it like a champ! I grabbed his head, forced his mouth to my pussy, and rode it out.

Completely back among the living, AJ offered to drive me home and since the next train was more than an hour away, I accepted. Despite his impromptu muff-diving expedition, AJ was quite the gentlemen. He didn’t employ any of the juvenile tricks guys use to invite themselves in for a nightcap. In fact, I issued the invite. We sat and talked. He was witty and charming and we promised we wouldn’t allow what we’d done to happen again.

Ten minutes later as my pussy closed around his girth and his cock filled my belly, I struggled to remember that promise.

“You like being fucked, don’t you, Alison!” he whispered, inching gently in and out of me. “You like fucking me, don’t you?—say it. Tell Daddy how much you like being fucked!” My walls proved no match for his sheer determination. Within minutes his length was plunging wetly, in and out, making loud sucking noises

Gazing deliriously into his eyes, “Ooooh hell yeah!” I pulled his potty-mouth to mine and sucked his tongue while his other head molested the nether regions of my pussy with such expertise I literally had tears in my eyes! Never before had a man instinctively known his way around my body—and never before had I gluttonously indulged on a man. I wanted to possess him. Each thrust was hard and deliberate. My moans broke into screams and I throw my head back and howl. It was the most intense feeling I’ve ever known.

“Alison, damn!” AJ growled, stopping briefly as my muscles involuntarily contracted around him. “Keep that up and you’re gonna make me cum.” he accentuated between thrust. The sounds of wet, raw, animalistic sex filled the room.

I grabbed his ass, pulled him into me. “Cum inside me. Knowing those dirty words on my lips would send him over the edge.

“Inside of you?” he said, rolling his hips deeper. My moans of approval tangled with his growls as he came.

And so went the rest of the night….and the next morning.

It was Sunday, and I’d spent the remainder of the weekend weighing the pros and cons of taking the veil and avoiding AJ’s calls. I didn’t want things to be awkward between us, but avoiding him only made the hours before I had to face him that much more brutal; and maybe a little part of me didn’t want to hear him say it had been a mistake. Whatever it was, I couldn’t answer the phone. Maybe if I slide low enough in my cubical, the hours of unprotected stunt fucking would be forgotten. Poof! Just gone away…much like my common sense.

Monday, I arrived an hour early hoping Matt wouldn’t notice I’d betrayed our love. He was aloof as ever, and launched head long into some facet of my job that no one but he understood. He pointed—I clicked—we parted ways—I swooned. Yep, it’s love.

From my crouching position, I saw AJ came through the doors just after nine o’clock wearing a dark suit worth more than my salary. He went straight into his office and closed the door. I ran to the bathroom in a last ditch effort to gather my shards of self-respect before our morning meeting. My drab, sexually repressed outfit was phase one of my master plan—phase two was gluing my eyes to my notepad until I literally disappeared amongst the chatterboxes and blowhards—which is exactly what happened.

All was going according to plan until we were dismissed and fat ass Chuck from marketing hindered my flight. When AJ asked me to stay behind, I nearly tinkled myself. I squeezed my eyes closed, then turned to him. He stood, arms folded leaning against his desk.

“What’s with your wardrobe?” he asked, brows furrowed. “Didn’t you have time to do your laundry? I figured that’s what you were doing when you didn’t answer my calls.”

My faced turned a thousand shades of red. “I turn my ringers off on the weekends. Sorry I missed your call.” I lied. He beckoned me closer. Nervously, I complied. Then, looking up at his smiling eyes, my fears dissipated. He held my face in his hands and kissed me with more passion than I dare profess, fearing it would draw attention to my faults. It felt unusually genuine, which frightened me. Even though my existence barely registered on Matt’s radar, I still wanted a chance with him. Yet, I didn’t want AJ to stop kissing me. When his lips left mine I stood there in a daze for a few seconds and he apologized.

“No, don’t. It’s me... well it’s not entirely me.” I sat my notepad on his desk. “Look. You make me nervous. Horny…very horny and nervous.” Breathe, I told myself. “Aside from being my boss, you’re smart, and attractive, and funny, and rich. Whereas I’m functionally retarded, I’m cute by the grace of Weight Watchers, I laugh at my own jokes, and if I lose my job I’ll be on the streets in four months.” I drew a breath. “I’m afraid.” Where the hell did that nugget of truthiness come from?!

“You’re afraid of me?” He leaned away from me.

“A little.” Even as I spoke the words, I regretted them.

“Have I gone too far?”

“No! Well. No!” I blurted.

“Then what is it?”

“You’re my boss and you’re a womanizer, and I’m okay with that….”

“I’m a womanizer? What makes you say that?” AJ studied me, an expression of slight puzzlement on his face.

I stalled, trying to remember if there were any hard and fast rules against being fired while one’s bosses’ sperm created your love-child. “I hear you talking about women…a woman, Siena,” I corrected myself. “I know you spend a lot of time with her—weekends and trips.” Why was I digging my own grave? “I’m okay with that, really. But I’m not okay with being tossed aside once you’ve had your fun.” It seemed enough. Most men would use this as their ‘out’. AJ wasn’t most men.

“Is that all?” He cupped my face again, kissing my eyes, nose, and cheeks between his words. “You think you’ll be casted aside? And why would I do that?”

“Because that’s not the way our story ends.” I forced a laugh. “I’m not the frumpy office worker who catches the eye of her incredibly hot boss, and goes trotting off into sunset after a night of earth-shattering sex. It doesn’t happen that way! I’ll fall for you and once the novelty wears off, you’ll get bored and put me out to pasture. Then I’ll become the office tart and then, after a fair amount of humiliation, I’ll quit or be fired for kicking someone’s ass.”

“You don’t know me very well.” He gave that adorable AJ laugh, then kissed me again. “Allow me to cook dinner for you tonight. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”


I’m screwed!
I thought walking into his absurdly expensive show palace of a home. Of course I accepted his invitation; I would have been a fool to do otherwise. And let me tell ya, eating dinner in a real dining room with real dinnerware is quite a step up from crouching on beanbags, praying my spork doesn’t pierce my soggy-bottomed paper plate before I’ve finished my Easy Mac. AJ cooked surprisingly well. There wasn’t a second of uncomfortable silence in our conversation, and after a while, I’d forgotten he was my boss. I’d even forgotten about Matt, my one constant thought.

We moved our chat from the dinner table to the living room—we kissed—he fingered me—I begged him to suck my clit—he did—we ended up in bed. Ending up in bed was becoming a tad bit predictable. We couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves. The first time had been quick, rough sex. This time, AJ made love to me decidedly slow at first, letting me feel every inch of him, and then driving in hard, delirium inducing thrusts.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous when you cum.” AJ held my right leg close to him and stroked deep into me. “Tell me what you want.”

I couldn’t speak.

“There?” He stroked to the left, hitting a spot I didn’t realize exist. I arched towards him. “Or there?” He drove long, deep, rhythmic strokes into me, brushing my clit just the way I like it. My lips parted, I raked my nails across his back, and moaned to the heavens. “That’s it. Tell me how to get you off, Alison.” He said into my neck.

Shaking and disoriented, I held him close. The room was filled with the sound of his cock dominating my pussy, our grunts and groans, and the cries of the bed. Fuck! I love that sound!

“Alison,” AJ said between thrusts. “I’m going to cum.”

I waited until he was on the brink of cumming, then whispered, “Cum in my mouth.” It was as if someone dragged a needle on a record mid stroke. He looked down at me.

“You want me to cum in your mouth? But I’m comfortable right where I am. Maybe later, perhaps.” He said as I wiggled underneath him. “Sweetie, please. Really. I’m about to cum.”

I ignored his plea and nibbled his lower lip. “In my mouth or not at all.”

He didn’t attempt to conceal his disappointment as he straddled my face however, when I grasped his cock and stroked him, his palm hit the headboard for support with an ‘Oh fuck!’ and all past sins were forgiven. Having him in my mouth, watching him bite down on his lip to keep from moaning, watching him watch me taking him inside my mouth, listening to him groan as it slid deeper, knowing he was at my mercy turned me on in ways I can’t explain.

“Goddamn, you’re hot!” He reached down and grabbed my hair in his fist, and used it to guide me, to fuck my mouth. I took everything he gave, feeling his legs tremor when I swallowed his head. He rolled his hips—I swallowed more—he panted—I sucked—he called my name—I massaged his balls and sucked dutifully. I felt his eruption building on my tongue. “Oh shit, I’m cumming.” He pulled my hair, holding me in place while bucking like a man possessed, shooting a stream of cum down my welcoming throat. I sucked and swallowed him limp. “Oh my God.” He looked down at me after regaining his senses. “I think I’m in love.” He laughed and collapsed beside me.

The next morning, I squinted at the clock on the nightstand. It was quarter til noon. I fell down in my pillow swaddled in—wait! It struck me in order of importance: this isn’t my bed. That isn’t Matt’s arm draped over me. It’s a workday!

Ohmagod! My clit still wet with AJ’s cum. How many times had we fucked? Obviously not enough if his hard-on pressed against my back were any indication. I should’ve freak out, jumped from the bed, and ran screaming my apologies to Matt for betraying our one-sided love affair, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

“Who’s the little girl?” I frowned at the picture on his nightstand.

“That’s my daughter, Siena.” He pulled me close and I sunk into his arms. “The one you thought was my ‘secret lover’. I’m divorced. I have Siena twice a week and every other weekend.” His words hung for a moment. “It’s easier to be thought a womanizer—it keeps the marriage-minded women away until you’re ready to date again.”

Things like this don’t happen to me. I’m not Fanny Brawne, and AJ isn’t John Keats. His passion for me didn’t stop the world from spinning nor did his admission send me swirling above the room on angels wings. There was no fading to black as AJ and I began our happily-ever-after. Why were there no harps and poets? Why wasn’t I swinging in the summer breeze, fingering a daisy chain while AJ slit his wrist for loves’ sake? Why—I ask—why?

Because it doesn’t happen that way in real life. In real life, Matt didn’t look my way because he wasn’t interested even though I was perfectly willing to make a fool of myself in some desperate attempt to catch his attention.

In real life, AJ saw me and I grew up, put away my childish fantasies, and fell madly, incandescently, in love with the man who loved me first—who loved me best—who loved me when I least deserved it.

                                                 The End