Chapter 6
In Jamaica, Claudja was having an affair with Scott. He took her up to his room and they fucked the afternoon away.
He was especially fond of eating her pussy, He placed her on the bed, and after kissing her on the mouth, went down on her twat, offering her his dick in exchange.
She tried to suck on it, but she was unable to get it all in her mouth. She opened her mouth real wide to take as much of it as she could. She had her mouth opened wide with much of his cock inside. Then she closed down gently, and sucked.
He started to buck it in and out, ramming it down her throat.
She loved it and took as much of it as she could, but she was afraid that the extra large cock would do damage if he pressed it all the way down her throat as his bucking threatened to do.
She took her mouth off of it. It was very wet from her saliva, then, and she wrapped her lingers around it as he stroked it back and forth with his impassioned, bucking movements.
Meanwhile, he was down on her, since they were in the famous sixty-nine position. He spread her lips with his fingers and looked at the moist insides of her. She was a young black woman, but inside, her cunt was pink.
He saw the clit, and started flicking his tongue back and forth on it. Saliva dripped from his mouth, into the opened vagina. Then he used his tongue like a spear, diving in and licking her out.
He suctioned her cunt up and swirled his tongue around inside, touching her at every part of her cunt, deep and shallow. He judged the effect by the intensity of her moans. When he worked on the clit, thrashing his tongue over it and then down deep, repeatedly, he made her writhe and scream.
The window of their second floor room was opened, and Claudja was afraid that her moans of delight were loud enough to be heard from outside. The window was open, the curtains were pulled open, and she might draw attention to their interracial love making. But she couldn't subdue her passion. There was no holding back.
Turned on by her moaning, Scott continued to eat her and to drive her insane with his practiced and talented tongue muscle.
There was no doubt that he loved licking and lapping black pussy.
To him, the taste of a woman's cunt was like beer. Strange, but that was what it was like to him, and he was .so thirsty for it, he couldn't get enough. Especially when the cunt was as fresh and as tasty as this young one.
With one stroke of his tongue, he broke through the thin layer of skin which had defined Claudja's virginity. He popped her cherry with his tongue!
Claudja was writhing about and screaming in delight. She didn't even realized that her hymen had been snapped. The thin membrane did not cause her pain when it broke and the few drops of blood were sucked up by the impassioned white man.
She continued to hold his throbbing boner, looked at it, watching the veins in it, and the balls behind the shaft. Every now and then she would place her beautiful lips on it and start to suck as he ate her. This drove Scott wild, but she would have to stop soon enough. She wanted to concentrate on the sensation which was bringing her close to orgasm.
Never had any man touched her in this way. She wanted to tell him that she was getting close to climax, but it felt so good, that she didn't do anything but dig her nails into his flesh and scream.
Her noises were becoming more and more animalistic. He was moaning inside her cunt, asking her without actual words if she liked what was happening, which, of course, she did. Fuck, she loved it!
He didn't let up as he felt her inner cunt begin to convulse. He rammed his tongue deep inside, scraping her clit as he-went. He sucked on her inner twat as she started to scream. Her screams became louder and louder as the window was crashed in.
Suddenly, the room was dark - filled with the bodies of angry black militants.
They pounced on Scott, pulling him off her.
One of them had a sawed-off shotgun. He took the firing end and smacked it over the white man's head. Claudja heard it crack against his skull.
"Nigger rapist," one of the black men spit at him. "You don't call our women niggers and then rape them.”
Claudja was completely confused. She was naked and felt totally vulnerable. She saw Scott trying to protect her, but the savage black men, alerted to the room by Claudja's passion cries, took over, smashing lamps and mirrors, and leaving the room a bloody shambles.
"We're taking over this whole hotel," one of the leaders shouted. Indeed, outside, the sounds of gunfire and breaking glass echoed over the swimming pool.
"This is revolution!" they shouted as they left the room, leaving the white man dead on the floor. Claudja, unharmed physically by the men, crouched down and held her white man's head in her arms. She cradled him, even though he was dead.
She didn't know the man, really. They had just met and they knew little of each other. And yet, in other ways, she felt that she loved him more than any man she had ever been with.
She felt an attraction for his light-colored flesh and his soft, blonde hair. It was like nothing she had ever experienced with her own kind, and she resented her own kind for taking it from her.
She blamed herself for making it worse for him by allowing him to be caught at her black pussy by the militants.
She stayed there, holding him, sobbing.
Hours went by, and finally there was quiet. The police were called in to assess the damages, which were, extensive.
There was a bustle of noise in the hallway. Claudja, fearing that there was nothing more that she could do, and fearing that her presence in the hotel room would only get her in. trouble when the police came around, opened the door to the room and saw what was going on in the hallway.
Gladys Grover, Marjorie Lloyd's mother, was leaving the hotel in a hurry.
"Take these bags, too," she shouted at the black bellboy who was already loaded down with three heavy suitcases. In the rush, Gladys had to leave several trunks behind. She hated to do it, but her life was more important to her. She had remained hidden under a bed during the outburst which had ripped the hotel apart. She was determined to get out of the country immediately, before the bloodshed became any worse.
"Damn niggers," she cursed under her breath, when she saw Claudja, shaking and crying in the doorway.
"Please, Ma'am," Claudja said. "Help me get out of here.”
"I think you'd be more of a help to me than I could to you," Gladys Grover responded. "It's angry people of your race who are after whites like me. But if you were with me, maybe they'd think that I'm a friend of the blacks. Maybe then they wouldn't hurt me. Alright, come along. Take these bags. We'll get out together.”
It was nearly impossible to get a car to the airport, but with the proper amount of money as a bribe, Gladys was able to get a car and a driver.
"What do I do now?" Claudja asked forlornly at that point.
"What do you mean? Can't you go home from here?" Gladys asked. "We're away from the rioting.”
"But I'm sick of it here. I'm poor. I need to go to America and become something. I need to make money and have some self respect.”
Gladys didn't pay much attention at first. She was hardly concerned with the plight of a poor, black Jamaican girl. Her only interest was in getting her own white ass out of the place.
But then she remembered her daughter Marjorie and the phone conversation they had recently had. Marjorie wanted a black maid. Why, if Gladys paid Claudja's air fare to New York, that would equal a month of wages. It would be a perfect gift to her daughter, and it would provide her with a black escort during these troubled times in Jamaica. She needed it to get to the airport. Already one black man had called out to them, seeing them together, calling Claudja a whitey-lover. There would be trouble in any event, but this seemed the easiest way.
There was always the additional fact that she would be helping poor Claudja make a start in a new country, but that was not really as important to her as having somebody around to help carry her bags.
"Here," Gladys said, offering Claudja the heaviest suitcase. "I'll take you with me to New York. I’ll pay your way if you promise to work as a maid in the household of my daughter. She's a prominent socialite, married to a rich young lawyer.”
Claudja was overjoyed. Immediately she pictured the setting and the working conditions. It was heaven.
She wished that there would be a way to contact her family before leaving the country. Surely they would fear for her and grieve for her, perhaps thinking even that she had been injured or killed in these racial riots.
But it was now a matter of her own survival above all, and this seemed to be the only answer.
Freedom was just a plane ride away.
Or so she hoped.
Actually, she was heading for a different kind of bondage, a different kind of chain.