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Tamara Greg

Older white teen boy discovers younger black teen girl
Tamara & Greg
A story for Lush by EroticCop

Hi. My name is Greg and I’m a high school senior. I live in a suburb of Minneapolis and play hockey, a lot. In fact, I’ve been playing varsity since I was a freshman. As a senior, I’m captain and have twelve different division I and II schools checking me out. I’m six foot four, and I weigh two hundred and twenty­-five pounds. I’ve been a gym rat since I got to high school, but that changed when a new girl came to school this year.

Ok, since I’ve been playing on a team that won the state championship last year and are favored to do it again, having a girlfriend isn’t something I’ve struggled with, ever. I’ve always had a healthy, active sex life and I’ve never complained. Not that I’m complaining now, but our community is lily white, a lot of Scandinavian blood, a lot of blonde hair and blue eyes, with a good number of brunettes and the occasional redhead thrown in for good measure. Maybe that’s why when I laid eyes on the new girl I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

I saw her in the hallway the first week of school. She was small, thin, but in a healthy way. She had a caramel complexion and was definitely African American, but maybe not a hundred percent. She had huge, deep, liquid brown eyes and puffy, warm lips. She had fairly short, curly hair, that if straightened would’ve reached past her shoulders, but not an afro. Her face looked round, mainly because of her hair that she wore with a thick pink ribbon. She was dressed nice, a t-shirt that hugged her tight. She had small breasts, but they looked firm to the point of being hard. She had a flat stomach and a perfectly round butt that protruded out just enough that I wanted to reached out and touch it. And she wore a little heel, but the top of her head still didn’t come to my nipple line. If she weighed ninety pounds I’d be surprised.

But with my practice schedule and workout schedule and studying, I couldn’t ever find her. She wasn’t in any of my classes. I wasn’t even sure what grade she was in. When I did go out, whether to a party or even shopping, I always looked for her, but with no luck. I finally resorted to a geeky friend of mine. I confessed to her that I wanted to know more about this girl. Come to find out, the girl was in my geeky friend’s class and she would do a little investigation on my behalf.

My friend reported back to me in short order. The girl’s name was Tamara Allen and had moved to our suburb during the summer. Her father, a white guy, had died of a heart attack last year and her mom, who was African American, had decided to move the two of them back to the states from England. Tamara was an only child and had just turned sixteen, but was advanced in school. Her mom was originally from Minneapolis and still had family living here. Tamara was shy and hadn’t joined any clubs or teams. She didn’t have a boy friend and seemed a little skittish about the age difference between her and the other seniors.

I found out her lunch period and arranged to see if I could meet her. I found her sitting at a table in the back corner of the lunchroom. Not lacking for confidence, I walked up and asked her if I could sit next to her. She seemed reluctant but nodded her assent. I introduced myself and she mumbled her name back at me. I had to ask her to repeat it twice before I made it out. She had the most delicious English accent.

“Tamara,” she said, all the ‘a’s sounding like, ‘ah,’ emphasizing the middle syllable of ‘Mar.” Her eyes were forever searching, like she wanted to find a way to escape. I played it cool and said that I’d catch her later when she left. I found her the next day and the one after that. Eventually I got to find out she liked punk, bands like the Buzzcocks and the Sex Pistols, and after another week, she’d say, Hi” to me in the halls. I saw her looking for me in the lunchroom and we seemed to be running into each other a lot. I finally asked her out.

It was a great date, just a movie and a snack. She seemed a little uneasy, mostly because of the age difference I think, so I took it real easy. I gave her a kiss, but nothing like what I wanted to do. We went out several times. Our next kiss we shared our tongues and I did feel her breast. It was firm underneath my caress her nipple was quick to harden. She breathed deep and her mouth was hot and wet.

The next date, she invited me over to her house for dinner. Apparently her mom wanted to meet me too. I brought flowers and was met at the door by her mom. She was gorgeous too, but her hair was long and straight. She was taller than her daughter and a little bit thicker, but not by much. They looked more like sisters than mom and daughter.

“Hi, Ms. Allen,” I said. “These are for you and Tamara.”

Her mom smiled a mouth full of strikingly white teeth against her full red lips.

“Thank you Greg,” she said stepping back. “Come in.”

We had spaghetti and meatballs and bread. Afterward, Tamara and I cleaned up before joining her mom in the TV room. Her mom was wrapped in a blanket and looked pretty sleepy as we started watching a movie. Tamara and I snuggled on the couch, her hand resting on my thigh, getting me painfully swollen. My fingers strayed where they could out of eye sight of her mom, though her eyes seemed like they were mostly closed.

An hour later her mom excused herself and went to bed, complaining she had a long day ahead of her. Tamara and I forgot the movie and started making out. Our hot mouths were all over one another. My hands found her breasts. I kneaded them and pinched her nipples through her shirt and bra, I tried to get her shirt off, but she said her mom was a light sleeper and vetoed me. I was able to get her jeans unbuttoned.

My hand slid down her pants across her flat, hard stomach. I could feel the muscles tense as my fingers slipped under her panty’s waistband. She was smooth, bald and she took a quick breath as my finger slid across her clit. It was firm and peeking from the folds of skin. Her crotch was hot and promised to be damp. I rubbed her clit from side to side and up and down. Her eyes closed and her lips trembled. Finally, after a bunch of clit rubbing, I sank a finger down her swollen lips and caressed her opening, being careful not to penetrate her.

When I thought she was going to ask me to stop, I pushed into that wonderfully moist crevasse. She was so tight that I had to really push my middle finger in. Her canal gripped me tighter yet. It was wet and so hot. I moved my finger back and forth. When I didn’t think it could get any tighter, she gasped and her pussy spasmed and flooded. Tamara bit my lip and breathed my name into my mouth.

She quickly got sensitive and I removed my hand. Tamara grabbed my wrist and licked and sucked my fingers clean.

“I’ve found,” she said practically growling.”That a favor my own taste.”

“Really,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s your fault,” she said still licking my middle finger.”I haven’t played with myself so much since I remember discovering my pussy.”

I smiled knowing that had to be a good thing. Tamara glanced at the hallway and her mom’s bedroom door that was close by. She smiled and quickly got up. She went into the kitchen and returned shortly. She had something in her hand. She nodded toward the bathroom that was adjacent to her mom’s bedroom door.

“I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“What’s that?” I asked shifting my hard cock in my jeans,

She handed me a tailor’s tape. “Measure yourself for me.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe my ears.

“I want to know how long and thick you are.”

“Why not do it yourself?” I smiled figuring that was perfectly logical.

“My mom’s a light sleeper,” she said.”If I go in there with you, she’s bound to hear something.”

“Why do you want to know?”

If a black girl could blush she did at that moment. She looked away, then back to me.

“Don’t get mad.”

“Why would I get mad?”

“Well,” she said her complexion reddening even more. “I was talking to my mom and she asked.”

I couldn’t breathe, let alone say anything.

“W . . . hat?”

She shook her head and nuzzled my shoulder, licking up my neck to whisper in my ear. “My mom and I are close and we don’t have any secrets.”

“I get that,” I said getting back some of my confidence. “But how did the size of my dick come up?”

“Like I said.” Tamara shrugged.”My mom’s curious and asked me. I told her I hadn’t seen it yet.”

I stood and unbuckled my pants. She licked her lips. I lowered the zipper. She shook her head quickly and put her hand on my bulge. She pointed with the other hand at the bathroom.

“In there.”

It was my turn to shake my head as I lowered my jeans and boxers. My nearly erect eight inch cock bobbed as the waistband was tugged underneath. Then my loaded aching balls.

Tamara’s eye’s got large. I gave her the tailor’s tape.

“Measure away,” I said. “Be careful or it might go off, then we’ll have some significant cleaning to do.”

Tamara unrolled the tape. I was eight inches exactly. She looped the tape around the flared head of my cock and then around my base, both of which measured greater than four inches. She tossed the tape on the couch and gripped my engorged cock with both hands. She brought her pouty mouth up to it and kissed the slit in the fat head, then took the head into her small mouth. It barely fit. I was so close that I reached down and caressed her face. She looked me in the eye, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

“I’m so close,” I said.

She stood and reached over for her cell phone. She lined up a photograph and snapped a quick pic, looking down my length. Then she patted my chest and went into the bathroom. She came out with a large towel. She laid it over the coffee table. Then she made sure I was standing at its base. She came to my right side and bent over, taking my cock’s head into her mouth. She moistened it with her saliva. Then she grabbed my cock in her hand and started to stroke me.

“Cum, baby,” she said stroking my cock. It didn’t take ten strokes of her little hand before I felt my nuts tighten and shrink. I burning explosion rose from deep within my loins. A fat stream of hot, white fluid arced from the tip of my cock. It shot past the end of the coffee table to hit her mom’s blanket. Tamara stroked my cock and it seemed like I left a gallon on cum on the towel. Tamara giggled and milked my cock.

“Wow,” she said. “I didn’t expect anything like that.”

I couldn’t say anything and just shifted my hips and sat on the couch. Tamara wouldn't let go of my softening dick. She jacked me several more times. A final pearl of cum dropped onto the back of her hand. It’s whiteness stark against her skin. She looked me in the eye and leaned down. She licked the pearl up and stood. She leaned over me and we kissed.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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