An Improper Position

But secretly she knew it was already too late. She knew her perfect makeup would already be smeared, her dress rumpled, her wig maybe even a little mussed. One tightly corseted breast now edged out of the stiff neckline of her dress, making her look even more wanton and disheveled. People would know she's had too much to drink, they would notice her absence on the dance floor, especially during Doan's set. Shaniquah would be looking for her. It was probably late, the party would now be in full swing in the ballroom.

Without thinking, her hands wandered below his belt to the front of his breeches. In true Edwardian style they laced up in the front like baseball britches, or shoes, only unlike traditional women's wear of the period, it made him easier to get to, undress, pleasure. Her fingers worked at the laces mindlessly as she pulled his fingers back into her mouth.

Why was she teasing him like this? It wasn't fair, there was nothing they could do right then, her dress wouldn't allow it, and she was getting truly short of breath now, her body was collapsing on his leg, and she couldn't imagine where this whole thing would be able to go next. Would I give him my number? Would we see each other later, sober and full of regrets in the full light of day? Would it be awkward then, me in my Pradas and him in his... incredibly dark, exotic skin? Would people stare? She couldn't even imagine, she realized that regardless of modern society, there was something forbidden about this, and the very thought shot lusty pangs of excitement low into her pelvis.

Her fingers had a mind of their own, they somehow unlaced his pants, and she could tell he was dying to have them off. She giggled, realizing how automatic and thoughtless that had been, thinking how evil she was to play with him this way, to pretend she would let him fuck her. She was sewn into her dress for chrissakes, and she had crinoline under her dress that was like a small cage made out of boning and muslim, hardly an easy-access sort of getup. Under this armor, she was really feeling emboldened, and she went for his ear, gently teething its edges and whispering into it. "I want you to fuck me now, can you do that for me?" she whispered, giggling wickedly and feeling a little bit heartless and dirty at the same time.

She drew back to look into his dark face, and suddenly, effortlessly and without a word, he had her on the floor, crushing her crinoline and all of its layers under him, he was pushing her shoulders into the floor, almost threatening. Large hands were now up her dress, under all the petticoats, discovering all the impenetrable barriers. Now he'll give up, she thought, We'll part ways, both with our own little fantasies to take home. The steady beat from the ballroom carried up through the cold floor, through her iron-tight bodice, into her back. A part of her really wanted him to fuck her right then and there, to have her in every way possible, to school her in all his dark exotic cravings, to use her as his naughty little fuck toy. Thank god for that dress, she was sure this would end soon and she would go home with most of her dignity.

And then she heard a ripping sound. Something she had not thought of. Her petticoats tied around her waist, under the dress, like thin little cotton belts. They would have been too numerous and intricate to untie in the heat of the moment, but she'd never thought they'd be this easy to simply rip off. He was still kissing her, moving her legs aside, heaving his long, lithe body on top of her but she realized he was not even bothering with the petticoats. He was tearing her bloomers off as easily as one might tear paper towels from the roll, his powerful hands were easily stripping her under her dress, getting access to her in ways she'd never thought he could.

Suddenly she felt his warm hands on her bare legs, sliding up her thighs, now gently rolling off her stockings. His jacket had come off and she could fee the heat radiating off his shoulders, he was unstoppable now. Next his hands tackled the top of her stiff bodice, and here she thought maybe she was safe, but instead of trying to get her dress open, he simply yanked and pulled at the neckline until he could free her ivory shoulders, folding it forcefully down below her breasts, and they spilled out free, soft and creamy into his dark, massive, waiting hands... perfect little 32Cs that looked fleshy on her delicate frame. His mouth descended on her beadlike nipples, sucking, biting, and kissing, as one long arm reached up under her skirts to her now naked cunt, fingering her clit and flicking it until she buzzed and writhed underneath him.

Now there was no resisting him, or this moment; under his wordless touch she gave over completely to this intense desire. She sat up, pushing both of them up with her arms, kissing him hungrily. Leaving her lace gloves on, she loosened his belt fully, opened his pants, giving his cock the room it needed. Even in the dark she could see it was big, and that did not surprise her. This would not be her first experience with a big man, and she knew how good that could feel sometimes, kind of overwhelming, filling her up and overpowering her small cunt, relentlessly beating intense, screaming, messy orgasms out of it like a boxer. That he was so dark and quiet, however, added a new layer of excitement to it. And in this setting, so scandalous, she realized how badly she wanted him, even if just for the novelty.

With her lace gloved hands she coaxed the dark cock rising from his unlaced breeches, rubbing in that special way that she had learned, just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy. Teasing, after all, was her specialty. He coaxed her mouth onto it, and eagerly, she tasted him, marveling at how more the same than different he tasted, and still lavishing her eyes on its exotic darkness as she slid it down her throat. It felt wonderful in her mouth, smooth and hot, pulsing with heat, communicating with her in a different way than the rest of him. She had to be careful though, not to satisfy him enough in this way, she had to tease him, leave him wanting more. She pulled off reluctantly, leaving him wanting.

Again she sat tall and kissed his dark ears and neck, sensing his shortened breath, his hunger, but this time there was no teasing. "So, are you going to fuck me with that big black cock or what?" she whispered. She could feel his pulse quicken as he grunted forward, pushing her back down to the floor. Hands lifted her pale legs wide, long black fingers now unhesitatingly probed her pink cunt, the fit was tight on his fingers even, and he drew sighs and shudders from her, loosening her, preparing her. She loved this feeling, of being stretched. Sometimes it felt wonderful to be fucked deep in that way, cored, impaled. Sometimes it was all she wanted, to feel the roughness of a man's dick ripping into her again and again, hot and rough and throbbing with animal lust; but the thought of this now, in the midst of this party, dressed as she was...the contrast, the impropriety, his blackness against her whiteness, his bigness against her smallness -- it was almost too much.

What was going on under her skirts felt like another world, she could not see it but she could feel it. He was surprisingly gentle and she felt strangely safe, somehow she had expected him to be less skilled. The long, thick fingers pulled out and then one swirled wet and slippery around her ass, slipping in easily, gently reminding her to relax, entering and retreating with increasing urgency. He could feel her giving into him now, he knew she would let him try anything, bend to his will, even in this elegant party, surrounded by dignitaries, friends, high society, just steps from being discovered, becoming a scandal.

He had edged them both now to the second set of stairs below the landing, pulling her massive cloud of skirts over the edge so he could get under them more easily. She knew he was being a gentleman in an oddly proper way, waiting to be invited again, so she let him try, thinking she could tease him endlessly here in this stairwell as the lavish party went on above them. But he had other plans, and soon he was flicking her G-spot in a place she never knew was possible, thrumming her nervous system like a well-tuned guitar, driving her to her very edge and she lost all control. She buried her screaming mouth in his chest, all the while still toying with his cock, which now throbbed and kicked in her hand like a bronco bull stomping in the gates.

As the orgasm subsided, she could take it no longer. She crawled to her feet, pulled him with her, back to the corner of the stairwell; their position there earlier had been merely a rehearsal for what was to come now. She used his shoulders to climb boldly onto him as he slid up under her voluminous skirts. Lifting her once again off the ground, he spread her thighs, propping her back up against the wainscoting, and in one deliberate motion he entered her, letting out a low sigh of surprise and relief as he used her own weight to part her cunt and drive himself into her most of the way.

It was a tight fit and he felt her legs and hips struggling, stretching, and flexing around him, trying desperately to let him in deeper, to please him. It was a strange sensation for him, usually his women fit easily, but this tightness was almost annoying, the friction was almost too intense, her grip on him was almost too powerful even if she could not yet take his entire length. He had not expected a white woman to feel so different, so ... proper, so trainable.

Her underskirts and crinoline crinkled and crunched around her as he thrust into her, and he felt just as wonderful to her as she imagined, and not really all that different than the other big lovers she'd had. She loved the heat of his long thighs as they gently brushed her upturned ass, the way he effortlessly held her up by her hips, pushed her body up against the wall, the hardness of his stomach against her inner thighs. She loved the naughtiness of the moment and except for her enormous, unwieldy dress and her suffocating bodice, she felt like she had done it before, perhaps in a different, more appropriate situation, at home with a boyfriend, or in a hotel.

She could not reach below the piles of her dress to feel him enter her, but she knew that he had not yet completed the task, he was trying to be gentle, and she wanted more of him, to please him and excite him. Except for the scandal of fucking a strange man in the middle of a high-society ball, this was entirely familiar, like coming home to an old and skillful lover.

But for him, it was completely new experience. This petite, sophisticated woman of American society, in her incredible dress, was allowing him to have her, all of her, right in the midst of the party with all her important friends. He knew it was because she was curious, and because she could.

Women were different in this country, somehow wilder, more powerful even despite all its puritan conventions. But he was sure now that women everywhere wanted the same thing, they wanted the same deep, overwhelming, deep fuck. In the dim light as he drew back from her, he could see his massive black cock fucking her, contrasting dark and almost purple and shocking against her prim little white cunt as it stretched around him. Her small, almost translucent white body seemed barely big enough to accommodate him, and yet she was taking everything he gave her, as rough and almost as deep as he wanted, this made him want to lose all control and pound away with no restraint. It was almost too much for him to look now. He tried to focus on something else as she tightened around him, again burying her screams in his dark chest, cupping his large body with hers.

He knew he had to win her, impress her with his skills, seduce her mind... if he was going to use her the way he planned to. He tempered his desire to spin her over and fuck her mercilessly from behind, the way he wanted to, and instead and focused on patience, on pleasing her, giving her what she wanted, so she would want it over and over, do what he asked, let him own her.

He lowered her onto the floor so he could finish, once again at the edge of the lower stairs, her dress upturned, her lovely little white legs spread around him as he knelt several stairs below, his dark, muscled body contrasting starkly against her lily white skin. The cocktails he'd served her and himself were good, maybe a little too good, making it harder for him to finish.

He slid his hands up the backs of her shaking thighs, spreading her small, smooth cheeks wide and drawing her body down onto his lap, then he slid his thumbs around the base of his cock and up into either side of her sex, pulling the lips impossibly wide apart and pressing his cock deeper than he thought she could stand, feeling her pelvic bones tight against the sides, sheathing him, resisting him. Her cunt strained around his cock, which from this angle looked impossibly big for her, impossibly dark next to her pale flesh, her gossamer dress, her white wig. In better light, later, he would show her this incredible sight, teach her to hunger for it, beg for it. She moaned, tightened, shifted her hips, then relaxed. Beyond the floating layers of petticoat and dress, he couldn't even see her face, her upper body, her beautiful pearly tits.

With tiny, grunting thrusts, she bucked her hips down onto him, felt her cervix sucking hungrily on the head of his cock, small and hard and spasming like a sex toy built just to please him. It was like she was in a trance, entirely possessed by the sensation of his cock inside her; all the haughtiness and disguise of her aristocratic nature was gone, all she wanted was for him to fuck her hard and deep, to push all the way into her, to use her purely for his pleasure and with no thought to her comfort.

The sounds of the party, the elegant clinking of champagne flutes, the pomp and circumstance... it all disappeared and she surrendered entirely to this raw, animal moment. She pushed her dress aside to lock eyes with him, and now he could see her tits jiggling with his thrusts, glowing almost alabaster white with tight, rosebud nipples swaying in the dim light, her arms stretched above her head on the floor above her, her eyes closed in bliss as her small delicate body rocked and pulsed on the edge of the stair, until she worked her way all the way to the very base of his incredible cock, and now he had to muffle her cries with one hand, filling her mouth with three fingers.

As she sucked on his fingers at one end and his cock at the other, her softness overwhelmed him, taking him into herself more than he thought she would. He lay his full body weight onto her now, falling into the piles of satin and lace, her soft alabaster skin, her delicate socialite's perfume, and he felt his cock swell and harden inside her, his balls tighten; her cunt tightened even more on him, like a cock ring, controlling him, holding his own orgasm at bay, lengthening it.

Her body struggled in climax and she was really on the verge of a scream, so he covered her mouth with one large, dark hand. Her eyes stared widely into his as he thrust more violently into her, now tossing aside any gentleness he'd maintained. She cried out in real pain now as he drilled her, now all for his pleasure, no more teasing, using her body to please himself, and he could feel her opening completely now, convulsing powerlessly underneath him as he felt himself empty into her.

They lay still just long enough to remember where they were, and then they used the shredded remains of her torn bloomers to clean up. She rolled her stockings back on as he quickly refastened his breeches and retrieved her shoes from the still-empty hallway above. He then led her, wobbly and bewildered down the stairs and out a back entrance to his waiting towncar, where she collapsed limply in the plush cream-colored leather seats, and fell almost immediately into blissful, exhausted sleep, not caring what came next or where they went.