Interracial Erotica -
In Rapid Succession
By Elaine Flowers
Published on June 28, 2011

With delicate steps, I move to the oak, double door and softly drag one side open. I take her by the arm pulling her in quickly because Butch has started to bark. Holding the crook of her elbow, I help her cross the threshold and Mrs. Wright’s soft, blond curls are tousled and mussed—it adds to her beauty.

In Rapid Succession

With delicate steps, I move to the oak, double door and softly drag one side open. I take her by the arm pulling her in quickly because Butch has started to bark. Holding the crook of her elbow, I help her cross the threshold and Mrs. Wright’s soft, blond curls are tousled and mussed—it adds to her beauty.

Five light taps on the dinning room window in rapid succession is the sign I listen for every Thursday shortly after midnight. The kids are tucked away quietly in their beds—and her husband is unaware that she has crept next door for a secret sexcapade.

“Hi,” she whispers and looks up at me with a gentle expression. She smelled like lilac and spring time, which undoubtedly will be left on the sheets.

“Hey Baby.” I secure the door, back her up against it and make a trail of moist kisses from her lips down to the crevice between her breasts.

“What time will your wife be home?” Head tilted back for my easy access.

“She’s off at three… so we better not waste any time tonight,” I say between kisses. We were getting a late start this time so I was anxious to get started.

“That’s fine because Mr. Wright was restless all evening. So, I need to be getting back anyway before his nurse notices I’m gone.”
She moans when I lightly bite a nipple through her blouse.

“Then, let’s get this party started.”

Every Thursday for the past few weeks, Mrs. Wright and I tread down the back hallway, careful to not wake the kids. Once, we were a little too loud and was interrupted by small eyes peering through a cracked door. We do our best to keep that from happening again and earnestly hope that they don’t say anything to their mother.

Once my wife walks out the back door heading for work, and I hear the garage door close I bathe our children, dress them for bed and read their favorite book, The Cheese Chase: An African American Folktale to them. After that, we engage in a quick pillow fight. I want to be sure to wear them out so they will sleep soundly and not interrupt Daddy’s playtime. I need them to be deep in REM sleep by the time I signal Mrs. Wright by turning out the back porch light, letting her know I’m ready for her.

My wife and I moved to the neighborhood a month ago but the Wrights have been longtime residents to the community—or so I understand. We’d never been formally introduced to them. We only knew they were the Wright’s because of the large plate that’s ingrained with their name on their iron gate in the front of their home. And we only knew them as Mr. and Mrs. because of another neighbor, old Miss Edna asking if we’d had the chance to meet them. Miss Edna, living in the house on the other side of the Wrights, also threw in additional details.

Mr. Wright had been in a gruesome boating accident some time back, which left him incapacitated as well as unable to perform his husbandly duties. According to Miss Edna, he slipped and fell off of the side of his sailboat breaking his neck and back. The only things Mr. Wright can move, she says, are his eyelids. Unable to speak, he can’t even tell her how beautiful she is, let alone that he still loves her so, Mrs. Wright, for the past several years has gone without any love and attention: lonely and unfulfilled.

I find the tiny tattoo of Tinkerbell just below her navel and slowly, and seductively kiss the trail of fairy dust that leads to the apex between her legs. This is where I always start once we are behind the safety of the closed double-doors of my wife’s bedroom. Mrs. Wright never wears any underwear when visiting me; afraid something may get left behind. So, I lift her skirt and with the assured invitation, tease the folds of her center until I feel her love juices begin to trickle down.

I lick my fingers. “You’re delicious,” I tell her.

She takes them and licks them too. “I am,” she agrees. We find each other’s mouths and passionately kiss as our bodies press together.

When we began this, there was no kissing and not much foreplay—just straight fucking. But, now we actually look into each other’s eyes and connect. We never expected or wanted to catch feelings but we have found a genuine affection for each other that has swept us both away.

This whole thing began when my wife walked in on me stroking myself while watching Mrs. Wright sunbathe. Her caramel-colored skin browning in the August sun had me so hard I could hardly think straight. She had turned over twice as I watched her thonged backside glistening in the steady stream of sunrays. I reached inside my pants and grabbed myself when she removed her bikini top and exposed a luscious pair. That was when I was interrupted and things between my wife and I have never been the same.

My wife—what can I say? She’s working the graveyard shift at the hospital tonight, again leaving me unattended. She is an attractive woman, but with diminishing sex appeal. With that tight-ass bun on the back of her head and wire-framed bifocals tipping at the bridge of her nose, not even the pope would fault me for creeping. She’d never do the nasty things Mrs. Wright does to me. It’s okay that she’s not more like Mrs. Wright, now that I get to have Mrs. Wright, and now that I no longer have to watch her through the kitchen windows surrounding the sinks.

“Did you remember to lock the door this time?” she asks me through panted breaths.

“It’s locked.” I barely mumble.

We move to the four-poster bed and collapse on top of the feather mattress. I help relieve her of her blouse and skirt while cherishing every angle of her lovely body. I cherish the womanly span of her back as it inclines into the curve of her round bottom and the long, tender legs that will soon be draped over my shoulders.

“Where do I start?”

“Anywhere you like.” Her words are drenched in desire.

I reach out and cup one breast and tease the darkened bud at the tip. Soft purrs escape her mouth so I move to the other one. I then lean over her and began sucking a nipple as she squirms underneath me.

“Where did you learn to do that?” she asks.


“Suck a nipple like that.” She was breathless.

“Like what?” I look up, still lightly holding it between my teeth.

“Like an expert. Were you breast fed as a baby?”

I laugh, “Hell, I don’t know.” I continue my work. “I’m glad you like it.”

Nothing like some encouraging words to make a man work harder to please his lover. I continue to work each one over until they are pouting, swollen and begging for mercy. I plant kisses all over the front of her body and flip her over. Licking and sucking, I leave love marks all over her back. Then I move lower and separate each cheek and run my tongue down the center teasing the opening there and watch as her whole body shudders. Nothing brings me more pleasure than seeing her respond to my touch, shiver to my caress, or moan to my every thrust. Slowly I turn her back over on her back and make my way between her legs kissing my way up her inner thighs. I lick and kiss her there until her body surrenders and an orgasm has her in its grip. Her world spins as her body tenses and stretches and she struggles to collect her breath.

I watch as tension leaves her body and crooked smile creeps upon her lips. Mrs. Wright raises her hand toward me so I join her in the bed and immediately she straddles me taking control. She pins my arms down on the bed and with a sly grin begin drilling me with questions.

In Rapid Succession
“Do you find me attractive?”

“Of course I do.”

“Am I beautiful?” Damp, fleshy lips are kissing my abdomen as she moves her hips around smearing her love juices on my skin.


“More beautiful than your wife?”

This line of questioning wasn’t new, so I’d learned clever ways of answering her that left neither woman slighted. She was constantly comparing herself to my wife when she had no reason to be jealous. I wanted to assure her of this without disrespecting the woman I was married to. Even if she happened to be more desirable I would never put my wife down just to lift her up. But I certainly didn’t want to ruin my good thing. It is difficult to admit but I feel myself becoming addicted to these Thursday night trysts. What would I do if they ended—I didn’t even want to think about it?

“You are both beautiful in your own right.”

Mrs. Wright thinks for a moment looking deep into my eyes, “Am I sexier than her?” She continues her gyrating, making small circles with her hips.

“You’re a very sexy, sensual woman. But so is my wife when she chooses to be.” I hold one hip in each hand.

“Hmm.” She continues to think and I wish we could just get back to what we were here to do. But, I know from past experience she is despondent until she gets her questions answered.

“Is she better in bed than me?”

“Well…” I had to choose my words carefully. “I um, make love to my wife… and uh, you know what we do.”

I watch her body language and she doesn’t seem to be deterred at all. She reaches behind herself and strokes my member keeping me aroused.

“Do you think you could ever love me the way you love her?”

“What’s this all about?” This was becoming a little uncomfortable because I wasn’t sure of her motif.

“Don’t get all worked up. It’s just a question.” She continues her handy work.
“Well, could you?”

“To be perfectly honest with you Mrs. Wright, I’m perfectly satisfied with the arrangement we have right now. You and me falling in love would only make a complicated situation more complicated.”

She stops and stares at me with an unreadable expression. I’m not sure if I’ve said the wrong thing but it was the truth. Under the circumstances I could understand her mind being on me and not her own spouse but I hoped she would stay focused because I didn’t want my mind on my spouse either.

Slowly I see the corners of her mouth turning up and I feel a sense of relief.
“I like the way you answer questions.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Very much.”

Mrs. Wright shimmies down the length of my body and lowers her head to receive me fully in her mouth. The sensation of the warm, moistness encasing me leaves me weak and feeling intoxicated. Her tongue curls around the tip and I wonder just how many dicks she’s sucked to get this good at it. But, I dare not ask. She moans and hums a tune to the rhythm of her work

For several minutes I watch as her head bobs up and down and the visual is more than I can stand. As her sucking brings me to the edge I reach for her face.

“Baby… I’m about to… explode.” I felt it was only fair to warn her. She keeps at it. And the mere fact that she seems to be enjoying it so much, with the moaning and the humming all I can do is let go.

Mrs. Wright greedily consumes every ounce—an ejaculation that seems to go on forever. The more I come, the more she absorbs, the more turned on I am. She takes it like a pro so the desire to thank her is automatic. I don’t because, after all, what is sucking without swallowing?

“Damn Baby,” I say to her. We were both breathless.

“Damn is right. I didn’t think you’d ever stop cuming.” She collapses next to me.
I bring her to me and our lips touch for a brief moment. We continue to try and catch our breath as we lay skin to skin. For whatever reason the connection is important. We never verbally profess feelings or devotion towards each other and if it’s up to me, we never will. So, this thing we do with our bodies fulfills her need for affection and gives her a reason to keep showing up every available Thursday.

“Is there anything left?”

“Oh yeah. I just need a little turn around time.”

“How much time you talking? You know last time we were running late and didn’t really allow you enough clean up time.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you leave without giving you what you really came over here for.”

“That’s what I want to hear. You rest up…”

We lie back still touching, and relax. It doesn’t take long before we are both dozing off. But with time on our minds it’s not a relaxing sleep. We can’t run the risk of not waking up on time.

What only seems like seconds turns out to be thirty minutes passing by. Mrs. Wright shifts positions and her backside is resting on my thigh. This is all I need to get the fire ignited again. I feel myself coming alive so I move in close to let her know I’m about ready. She catches the hint and backs into me some more.

She lifts her head and catches a glimpse of the blue numbers on the digital cock across the room. Turning towards me, she snuggles in and tells me, “We got thirty minutes to make this thing happen, Baby.”

In less than an hour my wife would be headed our direction and I would need everything back the way it was when she left.

Still backed into me, Mrs. Wright throws her right leg over my shoulder allowing easy access for a side entry. I inch my way in slowly and relax inside her heat. Every time it amazes me that we fit so perfectly together. It’s as if her body was made for mine and as if the rhythm we were making was not only timeless as far as man and woman are concerned but timeless for she and I. I moved in and out with an ease that was comfortable and comforting.

I reach around and caress her breast as I continue deep thrusts into her and she groans with pleasure as I move. Our position is so animalistic that it heightens the excitement we’re both feeling. Nothing but grunts and pants escape our mouths and then it happens. In the midst of the inaudible words we are both moaning mingled in with the occasional ‘deeper’, ‘faster’, ‘fuck me’, I hear it. She doesn’t whisper it but had I not been paying attention I could’ve missed it. Clearly she doesn’t mean for it to come out.

“I love you.”

We lose a beat to the music we’re making with our bodies smacking together and things are thrown off a bit. I make a quick decision to ignore it, and pretend that it didn’t happen. I regain my composure and get back on beat. She follows my lead openly receiving all I have to give. Our sweat-glistened bodies are tense and working. She struggles hard to stifle a scream as her body gives in to another orgasm. We ride the wave. And then we coast along, still connected and breathing heavy.

I don’t want to seem rude and ask Mrs. Wright to start preparing to leave, so I hope she gets a clue on her own. She is still panting and exhaling deeply as though she’s getting relaxed.

“I wish I could lay here longer, but we both know I need to get going.” She looked over her shoulder and I could see the dark hair peeking underneath golden strands. She stretched her body and yawned.

“Hey sorry about that slip up… you know, I love you.”

“I know. That’s the second time you’ve done that.”

“I just get caught up.”

“It’s okay.”

“Let’s find out her first name, so you don’t have to keep calling me Mrs. Wright.” We laugh.

“Hey, let’s try something different. The cable guy is coming first thing Monday morning. You up for it?”

By Elaine Flowers
Copyright ©2008 by Elaine Garcia