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I was twenty the afternoon I first stretched my lips and my cunt around a big black cock, and the memory still makes me wet when I let myself drift back to it.

Mum had cleaned offices for Sam for years. He was wealthy, good-looking, dark-skinned, always in expensive shirts that strained across his shoulders. Some evenings she came home glowing in a way that had nothing to do with polish and vacuum cleaners. I was young but not blind. One night I finally asked if he was fucking her. She didn’t deny it for long. When I pushed for details she looked me straight in the eye and said the sentence that rewired my head forever:

“There’s a true saying, Lacy. Once you go Black, you never go back. Their cocks are huge and thick. Sam’s is like trying to take my whole arm inside me at once.”

She wouldn’t answer when I asked about her arse, but the way she walked into the kitchen told me everything I needed to know. That night I lay in bed with two fingers inside myself, imagining that thick black cock forcing my mother open, and I came hard.

A week later the company held a fun day at the local park. Mum insisted I dress up. She bought me a short white summer dress that clung to my tits and stopped high on my thighs, then lent me heels and a set of skin-coloured stockings with deep lace tops. Suspender belt, white thong, soft pink lipstick, hair blown into loose waves. When I looked in the mirror I barely recognised myself. Mum smiled and said I looked gorgeous. I felt it, sexy, older, ready for something I didn’t yet have a name for.

At the park Sam spotted us almost at once. Up close he was even better than I’d imagined: tall, broad, skin so dark it shone in the sun, a slow smile that made my stomach flip. He kissed Mum on the cheek, then took my hand and brushed his lips across my knuckles. His eyes travelled down my body without apology, lingering on my legs encased in the stockings. I felt the first real pulse of heat between my legs.

He kept his arm around Mum’s waist as we walked, but every so often those dark eyes slid back to me. When she went to the loo he sat beside me on a bench and told me I was a very good-looking girl. If I ever needed anything, anything at all, I only had to ask. The way he said the word made my mouth go dry.

That night at home Mum told me they had been sleeping together for months. I asked her about the size. She demonstrated with her forearm and laughed when my eyes went wide. I went to bed touching myself to the mental image of that cock and came with my face buried in the pillow so she wouldn’t hear.

A week or so later Mum came home a bit upset. She’d left her purse at the office and didn’t want to trek back into town. I offered to fetch it. I changed into a short black skirt, the same lace-top stockings, heels, and a thin top under my bomber jacket. I wanted him to look. I wanted him to want.

The factory was quiet by late afternoon. Sam appeared in reception almost as if he’d been waiting. He smiled that slow, knowing smile and offered to help me look. We found the purse in the canteen, but instead of sending me on my way he asked if I wanted a proper tour. I said yes, heart already beating harder.

His office was large, all dark wood and leather. He poured me a drink, sat beside me on the long sofa, and told me how beautiful I was. His arm slid around my shoulders. I leaned in. The next thing I knew his mouth was on mine, hot, confident, tongue sliding against mine like he already owned the right. I kissed him back just as hard. His hand settled on my knee, then began a slow climb under my skirt. When his fingers reached the damp heat of my thong I opened my legs without hesitation.

He rubbed me through the thin fabric, slow circles that made me moan into his mouth. I was already soaked. He pushed the thong aside and slid two thick fingers along my slit, gathering wetness, then pushed them inside me. I gasped at the stretch.

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