The Art Show Desi

I met Maleeka at an art show my friend Tony dragged me to last week. Art and I don’t normally mix, but I owed Tony a favor and a ride to the show was going to be it. Bunch of paintings on the wall; that’s all I can tell you. The show was in a community center in a pretty rough neighborhood. All the artists were local people showing off whatever talent they may have had. Tony had walked away from me to whatever he came there for, so I wandered around looking at the stuff, trying to figure out what was good and what was bad. I’ll be damned if I knew.

One particularly grim canvas did catch my eye. It depicted a very abstract black woman doing something to a very abstract white guy. It may have been ual or may have not. I stood there a few minutes puzzling over what I was seeing, when I felt someone standing next to me.

“Do you like it?” A husky woman’s voice asked. I turned and found myself facing a tall, extremely black woman. I mean she was dark. Not too many slave owners in her ancestry. The ceiling lights glistened off her skin. She wore a sort of halter top, but it was different, very nonEuropean. Her tits were enormous and a deep, shadowy cleavage drew my eyes inwards.

“Well, uh, I think that, ah, this painting shows, ah…” I fumbled for words as I shamelessly stared at the ebony roundness of those tribal boobs. That chest of hers silently shouted uality. I was absolutely mesmerized by it, compelling me to stare. Eventually, sensing that I was making a fool of myself, I said, “the essence of man’s inhumanity to man. That’s it, that’s what its about.”

She laughed.

“You silly man,” she said while she rolled her eyes, “that’s the poorest excuse for art criticism I’ve ever heard. How did you ever come up with that nonsense?”

Gleaming white teeth showed through full, dark lips as she grinned at me! I felt like an idiot for trying to fool her, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“My name’s Maleeka,” she told me. “My mother made it up. I suppose you have an ordinary white name?” She said this without rancor, like it was almost a joke.

“Ah, yeah. I’m Jerry. Pleased to meet you.”

“Seriously, Jerry, what did you think of the painting?” Her interest was so strong I caught on pretty quickly that she had painted it. I teased her about fooling me this time and we laughed some more. It was evident that we were getting along very well, so I asked her if she’d like to get a cup of coffee or something.

“I live nearby,” she told me. “Right in my studio. I’d like it very much if we went there. I think it would be fun to be together.”

Was I about to get laid? Fuck Tony. We left for her place.

Her apartment was in the attic of an old Victorian house that had seen better days. Still, the light was good for painting and she had the place decorated with a certain African flair. She invited me to sit on the couch while she went to put on some coffee. When Maleeka came back out of the kitchen, I noticed that her top was a little more open. She sat down on the couch next to me. I felt that old familiar stirring in my pants. She surprised me by leaning over and giving me a wet tongue kiss.

“I’m a very aggressive woman when I want to be,” she said, licking her lips. “When I really want something a lot.”

I believed her, really. My dick was springing to attention in the folds of my underwear. I kissed her back, sticking my tongue in deep. Her lips were so much fuller than any white woman I had ever known. I sucked the bottom one into my mouth and ran my tongue along it. She shuddered with pleasure. We hugged hard as we continued to make out. Her chest pressed into mine and some bead work on her top hurt me as the force of our hug brought us closer. I told her it was uncomfortable, so Maleeka very considerately suggested that she takeoff her top. I could help if I wanted to. So I did.

She guided my fingers to the intricate catches on the garment, at the same time mashing my hands into those big, dark globes. They were quite solid for ones that big. I quickly took control of the breast massaging, wanting to give her everything I had in the mammary manipulation department.

I soon got her top off and had her half naked. As we kissed, I took one huge, hard breast in my hand and stroked it as lightly as I could, paying special attention to the sides. Women like that. I’ve discovered in my years of tit play.

Then I leaned in and used my mouth to worship at the alter of her nipples. Maleeka moaned from my sucking. Her responsiveness to my nursing made me feel good because she was so attractive that she’d probably had all sorts of studly white guys glomming onto her tits. At least she was getting pleasure from what little ol’ me was doing.

Her hands weren’t idle either, having been relieving my prick of its uncomfortable position in my pants while the tit sucking was going on. When she had it all the way out, Maleeka stroked my pecker up and down like she’d been born giving hand jobs. It was almost too much.

“Maleeka, darling, keep that up and I’ll have an accident,” I warned her! She didn’t stop.

“Well, Jerry, my new friend, maybe you’ll have this ‘accident’ right on me. I’d like that.” She bent in and brushed her tits against my dick. The sensation of the ebony nipples on my knob was indescribable. An electric shock went up my spine.

“I want you to do something for me.” Her tone was halfway between a command and a request.

“Sure,” I answered. Anything short of murder, I’d do it for her. Just let me cum, please.

She got up off the couch and took me by the hand to a bed in the corner of the studio. More of a sleeping mat, actually. It didn’t look very comfortable but she assured me it was.

“And you’re going to have fun on it, too.”

Now like I said, this girl was tall. She knelt down on the bed, then maneuvered me directly in front of her. Because of her height, I only had to crouch a little to get my boner in between those boobs. Yep, that’s what she wanted me to do: this was going to be a titfuck party. I brought the cock and she brought the tits.

“Do you like this?” She asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “But it a little dry in there.” I wanted her to get some sort of lube onto those casaba melons before this went too far. Maleeka didn’t disappoint me. On the little carved wood night table next to the bed was a small bottle of something. She picked it up and rubbed it into her chest. Maleeka was a pro at this, like I expected.

“It’s from Africa. The natives use it for anal , but it’s also perfect for this.” She used two hands to swirl the slimy liquid around. She obviously loved touching herself. I didn’t mind watching; the sight made my boner all the more eager for what was to come.

She recapped the bottle and assumed the position again. I put my dick back between those twin beauties and she pushed them closed with her hands.

It was a lot better this time. The oil made her titflesh into the smoothest possible container for me to get off in. I pumped my rod up and down. It slid like a skate on ice. Seeing the white tip poke up repeatedly from between those black mounds excited me unbelievably. Her, too, evidently. She stared down at my cock, her eyes riveted to it.

“Come on, white boy,” she moaned, “fuck my big, black titties. Shoot that cream all over them. Look how black they are. Your pale white dick is them so good. Make me wet. Cover my titties with your white scum.”

Heat, that’s what I remember most about that day. The heat of her flesh against my cock. With the oil, friction was at a minimum and it was the actual warmth of the flesh that was heating my pecker to a boil. Faster and faster I moved my ass up and down. I wanted to come. I wanted to spurt my jizz all over her and she wanted it, too.

I began my final bucking, almost ready to blow. The pink tip of my dick appeared and disappeared between her dark tits with amazing speed. I felt my load coming and I couldn’t, wouldn’t hold back. With a grunt I shot. The scum blasted out my cock onto her face, her chin, her neck and her tits. I couldn’t believe how much juice I was giving her. The excitement of being between those chocolate mounds had been too much.

Finally, it was over and I collapsed onto the bed. Looking up I saw her rubbing the jism into her skin, carefully, trying to cover as much area as possible. Maleeka was a scum junkie extraordinaire by the way she savored my seed as her holy unguent.

“Oh, Jerry, that was wonderful. Thank you for giving me so much cum for my complexion. That was wonderful of you.”

“It was nothing,” I told her. “I’ll do it anytime you want.”

Believe me, I got the chance – again and again.

This The Art Show

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