Better Than Icicles


This happened a long time ago; in the nineteen sixties, a few months after my eighteenth birthday. I’d known Miss Princess since I was fifteen when she and her sailor husband moved into one of the two ground floor apartments in the two storied building obliquely opposite to where I lived with my grandparents.

Soon after moving in she started making and selling icicles in little plastic bags, a treat recently become popular in the country. Buyers, mostly kids, would go to her back door and knock or call out to get their icicles. I liked the tamarind flavour ones and hardly a day passed without me finding myself at Miss Princess’ back door once or twice, sometimes more.

A cousin of hers lived in our building, so Miss Princess would occasionally come over; this led to her and my grandmother becoming friends and she would sometimes ask me to run little errands for her, which I was always willing to do because this got me some free icicles. I once heard her telling my grandmother that I resembled her husband and my granny agreed, saying we were probably distant relatives.

It wasn’t until years later, after graduating High School, that I started seeing Miss Princess more as a woman than as the icicle lady, which is what, kids at first, then everyone else in the street called her. She was a jovial woman in her late thirties, a little on the thick side with a noticeably round, pushed out ass and pert breasts which stood proudly high on her chest; she had never breast fed, being childless, so no damage had been done there.

Her skin was a smooth dark brown and her shiny jet black eyes always had a sleepy look to them while her small, thin lipped mouth bore a perpetual smile giving her round, dimple cheeked face the appearance of always being in the afterglow of good sex. Her shoulder length black hair was kept well pressed and mostly worn in a ponytail. The afro was only just becoming popular and she hadn’t tried it as yet. There was also a prominent mole on the left side above of her lips.

Sexual awareness of Miss Princess crept up on me suddenly without any previous provocation and escalated within a matter of days, replacing my boyish admiration with the burning lust of a man. One day she was the nice, friendly icicle lady and the next a beautiful, sexy, fuckable woman who haunted my forever horny, eighteen years old body and mind. She became my favourite fuck fantasy and I regularly masturbated to mental images of her body, especially her ass and breasts, both of which seemed to bounce in unharnessed glory when she moved.

I lusted in silence for the lovely creature and stuffed myself with her icicles so I could be near her and look at her for a minute or two several times a day. And inside my head she was now known as Princess; I thought it fitting, under the circumstances, to drop the Miss. She seldom wore bras and I would be in voyeur heaven on those days when whatever top she was wearing was close fitting or light enough for me to see the outline and dot like nipple imprints of her marvelous titties. It got to the point that whenever I drew near to her backdoor to buy icicles an erection would grow in my pants.

Despite my raging hunger for her body I was careful never to let her catch me looking at her inappropriately. But one day, a month or so into my newly sprouted longing, she came to the door wearing a tight T shirt with a plunging V neck and when she drew close to hand me the icicle I stared so hard at the bouncing, mouth watering mammaries, I nearly came in my pants. I felt the familiar buildup and slight shudder, but somehow it managed to keep at bay.

“Charlie, one of these days your eyes are going to fall out; you’re always staring at my bubbies,” I heard her say.

There was a playful, cross look on the pretty face as she spoke those words which softened the seriousness of the offence; but I never the less felt floored for I realized then that I wasn’t nearly as careful as I’d thought when stealing looks at her goodies; Didn’t I just hear her say that I was always staring? There’s no mistaking always.

“Hey, don’t faint, I’m just joking. Look how red and shaky you’ve become; I could knock you over with a feather,” she said, laughing.

I managed to gather together just enough of my scattered nerves to laugh along with her. As if trying to ensure I didn’t take offence or feel embarrassed she whispered softly:

“You and me, we cool, right?”

I nodded.

Feeling somewhat shy I skipped the next day but turned up the following for my icicle and was nicely greeted by the unbelievable sight of Princess’ breasts practically bare to my eyes through a sheer, red blouse. After what happened the last time I wouldn’t have wagered a cent on the possibility of what stood before me then. Her chocolate face beaming, she handed me the icicle. I tried, really tried but just couldn’t resist looking long and hard with bayan kartal escort popping eyes at the puffy tipped breasts with their little raisin like nipples that seemed to be asking me a question. She held out the icicle and asked:

“Yuh really like these things, eh?”

“Yes, Prin …Miss Princess; you make the best icicles.”

“I ain’t talking ’bout icicles.”

She looked down at her chest and pushed it forward, smiling teasingly. I barely heard the soft:


“Yes.” I mumbled through trembling lips.

Then, I don’t know what came over me but I looked up into those sleepy but blazing black eyes and as she boldly held my gaze, her little mouth nervously twitching just like mine, I felt my hand swiftly move upward as if trying to catch a nearby bird, and did the unthinkable; I grabbed a lovely, tempting breast and squeezed it roughly, causing her to gasp and pull away as if I’d hit her, her eyes and mouth wide open in disbelief. Then she looked around and behind me nervously to see if anyone had observed my indiscretion.

I looked at her shocked face and felt my young body shake with fear and shame. My knees felt like they were about to buckle.

“I, I, I’m sorry Miss Princess … please don’t tell granny.”

I turned and began walking away on shaking legs, barely hearing her soft, still shocked voice:

“I won’t, it’s alright, we cool, Charlie,”

One week later, late in the afternoon I ran into to her coming into the grocery store as I was walking out. She stood in front of me, blocking my path.

“Yuh don’t like my icicles anymore, Charlie?”

I bent my head without answering; unable to bring words up my throat.

“Is alright Charlie I understand how yuh feel. But I want yuh to know I’m not the least angry with you. What happened is forgiven and forgotten and stays between us. Come for yuh icicles whenever yuh want, I miss you.”

She reached out and patted my shoulder.

“Thanks Miss Princess,” I said, feeling a little better.

“Tomorrow is me birthday. Come by in the morning. Instead of you bringing a present I goin give you one. I have an icicle put aside fuh every day yuh missed, and yuh don’t have to pay.”

I felt an instant calm, my flagging courage restored. She stepped around me and went into the grocery, leaving me with a hard cock as usual.

The next morning, anxious to get things back to normal I waited until granny left to go to the market in the neighbouring village. Just around eight thirty, I knocked on Princess’ door and heard her say:

“It’s open Charlie, come in.”

She must have been looking out the window to know it was me. I entered the kitchen.

“Close the door.” I heard her call out from the living room.

She stepped into the small kitchen and slowly walked to the center of it, looking like an image from a playboy magazine, except the bunnies didn’t come that thick or dark back then. She was in nightwear; pale green, short and sheer with orange bikini panties underneath but no bra. Her face was well made up, lips painted bright red. Her black hair glowing with some kind of oil sheen fell around her round face in long curls. My eyes popped open, my palms felt cold and sweat ran down my armpits. I was suddenly very nervous. I hadn’t expected this and didn’t know how to handle the situation like a man, but I wanted to be a man with her.

I could feel the cock that had begun its usual raging the moment I approached her door, the cock that was longing for the past two months to push its way between those thick thighs and into her pussy was now, when faced with its desire was beginning to back pedal, shrinking into a little hard knob, something that always happened to me in tense, fearful situations.

The short nightdress only just covered her crotch, leaving a whole lot smooth coffee flesh on display for my admiring eyes. I could even see through the nightie to her belly button. The thin shoulder straps led into little fitted cups that hugged her breasts unwillingly, wanting to set them free. The tiny, stiff nipples left no doubt that she was in heat. I stared longingly, letting my surprised eyes roam her wild and tempting terrain and I felt a surge of energy revisit my cock. She walked towards me slowly, her penciled and shadowed eyes blazing urgent lust.

“Yuh like what yuh see Charlie?”

“Yes,” was all I could manage.

“You can touch whateva yuh want; Is all yours, the birthday present.”

I swallowed hard as I looked at the daring bubbies, remembering the spongy feel in my hands a week ago, but my eyes travelled downward to the orange covered treasure and I felt my cock straining like a leashed and restrained dog to get into the fight.

As if afraid the offer could be withdrawn at any moment, my hand moved swiftly to the nightie’s hem, went under and kartal eve gelen escort found the plump, soft core of her need. She spread her legs making the lump of womanhood more easily accessible, and then squeezed them back together when the hand was well fitted around its goal, trapping it in a soft, tight and damp embrace.

“Ooohh, Charlie,” She cried out loud.

She uttered a low, drawn out moan and grabbed my hand, holding it in place; bumping and grinding fervently against the damp palm and fingers. My inexperienced fingers fumbled with the leg of the panties, pulling it aside and parting the slightly hairy lips to allow a long eager middle finger to make its virgin journey into a pussy. I’d never had a drink in my life but at that moment I thought that the headiness I was experiencing must be how being drunk felt. She jerked frantically as the finger pierced her’

“Charlie, Charlie,” she cried out.

I sunk the finger to the hilt then began moving it up and down feeling her roll her ample hips in unison with the thrusting flesh and bone, her hot walls contracting pulse like around it. After a while I felt then saw her lifting the nightie over her curled hair.

“Take off my panties, baby,” I heard her whisper.

I withdrew my finger from her hole and using both hands to grip the waist of the panties pulled them down, dropping to my knees in the process. After she stepped out of them I raised both hands and sinking my fingers into the damp, fat butt cheeks pulled her body close and sank my flushing face into the wool and flesh. Using as my only guide, stuff I’d read in novels – this was before the days of internet and VHS or DVD porn – I began licking the bush sprinkled lips. She moaned loudly in response and bumped her pussy against my face.

Her hands dropped down and pulled wet, puffed up lips apart. I acknowledged the cue and stuck a stiffened tongue into the pink orifice, my nostrils inhaling, enjoying and immediately becoming addicted to pussy smell; love at first sniff! My nose pressed against the heavenly softness and she rolled her hips while holding my nappy head in place with an urgency that I appreciated. It made me feel needed. I remembered something else from books I’d read and I moved upward in search of the little pip, when I found it I latched onto it and sucked away fervently, drawing loud hisses from her.

“Oh Charlie, I never had this before. You is a brave man. You is a boss.”

This was a time when sucking was a bad word; when eating pussy was considered a weak, unmanly thing among West Indian men, though I later found out, many men indulged in that delight secretly despite their fervent denial whenever the topic surfaced. At that moment, given the pleasure princess was obviously having I didn’t give a fuck about right or wrong. All that mattered was pleasing this big, thick, beautiful, black queen.

I sucked on her clit hungrily as she urged me on verbally. It wasn’t long before her hand held my head in a grip much tighter and demanding than before and her entire body jerked and trembled against my face as she broke into pleasurable spasms, her knees bending and threatening to collapse. On a hunch I sent the finger that had earlier explored her cunt, swiftly up her ass hole. She howled with pleasure and bucked wildly almost falling but my strong young hands held her fast until her weakness died out.

She pulled me up into a standing position and dropping to her knees loosened and pulled down my khakis and briefs together while I quickly wriggled out of my white Terylene, old school shirt. I got the most beautiful feeling ever when I felt her hand pull down the foreskin of my hardened sex muscle and she gently tickled the blood filled head with a flicking tongue. I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t taken my morning bath as yet and feeling embarrassed, tried to pull back, but she grabbed my shaft holding it in a tight grip and stuck it into her mouth. When she swallowed half my tool I thought to myself:

“Fuck it, if she doesn’t mind the overnight funk why should I.”

I threw back my head, closed my eyes and enjoyed the sweetest sensation ever, save for an actual cum when I pumped my cock. She looked up at me and said:

“This is better than icicles.”

She sucked me vigorously for a few minutes, making loud sloppy sounds, then licked and swallowed my balls driving me wild with painful pleasure that I never knew existed. She nibbled on my inner thighs and I giggled heartily. She got up slowly and said:

“Let’s go to the bed love.”

I followed her into the bedroom, marveling at the sweet sight of bouncing, rolling, dimply woman backside. I smiled. She threw herself onto the bed and spread her thick thighs exposing the thick but neat triangular mat of jet black hair, thin only where it stuck out from a fluffy vulva. She stretched escort bayanlar out her hands and said:

“Come fuck me my sweet baby. Fuck your icicle lady.”

I climbed onto the bed and got between those smooth, thick thighs, sparing only a few seconds to admire the raw beauty of sex meat before lowering myself into this strange, new, but exciting and satisfying position. I felt her hand take hold of my stiff fuck stick and guide it to her core as I pressed down on her. She placed it in the hole and I lunged forward tentatively. When I realized I was inside my dream baby I made a bolder, more forceful lunge sending me further into her.

“Oh my god, you’re such a big boy, you’re stretching me. Fill me up baby boy,” she said with passion.

Her words made me feel strong and confident and I started making quick, short jabbing thrusts into the wonderful pussy. I soon changed gear, dropping to a lower speed but with longer strokes, going deep. She wiggled and moaned under me tossing her head from side to side.

“You’re doing good baby, you’re doing just fine on your first ride,” she whispered.

Her soft hands gently rubbed and coaxed my hard young back. I leaned forward and sucked hungrily on one of the bouncing puffy bubbies then began alternating my attentions every few seconds. Stopping briefly to echo words she’d uttered minutes ago:

“This is better than icicles.”

“Yuh really like them, eh?” she asked.

I didn’t answer, there was no need to; I just continued sucking bubbies and pumping cock into her as she looked at my bobbing head and ran her fingers through my hair. I rose up onto the palms of my hands and pressed my groin hard against hers, grinding the base of my cock onto her dewy cunt lips. She thrust upward and did her own reciprocal grind. I leaned forward and slipping my hands under her armpits, grabbed her shoulders and began pounding.

“Oh, I like how yuh mek me feel.”

“I like your pussy too,” I said, panting hard.

“Oh baby, you is the sweetest.”

I felt an encroaching pressure in my loins and sensing my moment was near she gave a little wriggle of her lush hips. I gave three or four quick thrusts that sent me over the top.

“I’m coming Princess,” I cried out.

Wondering whether to shoot in her or pull out.

“Shoot in me, meh little gunman; wet up meh womb, oh gawd!”

I let loose, emptying my hot, young, sticky stuff into her clinging pussy.

“Don’t pull out, and don’t stop fucking. You young, the cock will stay hard once you don’t stop,” She said, giving me my first ever sex lesson.

I followed her instructions and found to my delight that my cock remained hard instead of gradually deflating as it usually did after masturbation. I kept hammering the slick, thick pussy and she fucked like crazy under me, flinging her hips in all directions until she gave a loud squeal that I’m sure the folks upstairs heard, and began cumming hard and long. When she was finally finished she said:

“Fuck me from the back, fuck me like a puppy.”

She pushed against my chest and I rolled off her.

“You stand on the floor,” she ordered

I hurriedly obeyed and she got on all fours, elbows and face pressed onto the mattress, her fine, fleshy ass high in the air as she dragged herself to the edge of the bed. I needed no further urging or instructions. I pressed forward as I gripped the fat ass cheeks and spread them. Without using my hands I lined up my cock and pushed. That first stroke missed the mark, but she quickly reached under and behind and placed it in the hole. I rammed her hard and flew into the wet pussy, immediately going deep. She made a loud “uh” sound and rocked her ass frenziedly a couple of times, almost dislodging me. But I pressed forward and held her ample hips tight.

For some reason I found myself thinking that today’s luck and pleasure might not come again and deciding I was going to make the best of it I began flailing that sweet lady bump ruthlessly; you could say violently, enjoying the sight of her jiggling bottom making sensual fleshy waves as I rode it. My groin hitting her cheeks and upper thighs made loud thwacking sounds that drove me almost to the edge several times but I managed to hold out.

I lasted longer on this second ride and she remained with me on her knees and elbows like a good old soldier on sentry duty. I felt my bruised knees burning and it was a relief when after more than half an hour in doggy style and sweating like a pig my resistance broke and trembling with supreme pleasure I blasted into her. After the first blast she quickly spun around and stuck my jerking dick into her mouth, taking the remaining cock smoothie down her throat, sucking me until long after I was dried up. My cock was bruised and burning from the unaccustomed friction against hairy lips, but still, I returned later that afternoon and fucked her couple more times.

I continued fucking Princess two, three or four times a week as the opportunities presented themselves, taking a break only when her husband’s inter-Caribbean cargo ship docked. Nine months after our first fuck she gave birth to a baby boy. As I mentioned earlier, I looked a lot like her husband.

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak.