BBC Shemale: A Beginning

Summary: A lonely white woman in a gated community befriends new black neighbour.

Note 1: This is a Summer 2019 Contest Story so please vote.

Note 2: Thanks to Tex Beethoven for a massive edit to this story.

Note 3: Thanks to Tex Beethoven and Robert for editing this story.

BBC Shemale: A Beginning

"Thanks for stopping by," the very pretty black woman, my new next-door neighbour, smiled, inviting me into her new home... the former home of my best friend who'd moved to Oklahoma for family reasons a couple weeks ago.

"No problem," I smiled warmly, hoping she was going to be someone nice and worth getting to know. This was a gated community, and the majority of the women living here were stuck-up bitches who wouldn't give me... and now her, I was certain... the time of day.

Most women here had never worked in their lives, because they came from very rich families.

I, on the other hand, had ended up living in this pretentious community after working my whole life as a secondary school teacher and receiving a surprise inheritance from a student I'd taught years ago. I was her home room teacher for all four years, which meant that officially I was also her counselor, and she'd taken full advantage of my services. Not that I'd minded, the poor thing. Her parents' divorce in her freshman year had devastated her, and her father's death a year later had crushed her spirit all over again. To make matters worse she was a lesbian, and that was still pretty much unacceptable in the late eighties and early nineties, especially in the conservative south (crazy how little it's changed since I left over twenty years ago). But she'd graduated and moved on to far better things, until after a couple decades she passed away unexpectedly from an aneurism. At least she'd gone quickly, and her abdominal pain at the end was brief. We'd kept in contact a little during those twenty years, and she'd once sent me a very moving and rambling letter of gratitude, describing my support of her during her tough high school years, and how much it still meant to her; in her opinion, if not for my loving support and my wise counsel (her words), and my shoulder always being there for her to cry on, she might have committed suicide at several points; so she felt she owed me her life. I always thought she was overstating my virtues, but her gratitude was sincerely meant, which meant a lot to me. After acing college she'd gone on to create a few medications that were key breakthroughs in cancer treatment (her dad had died of cancer during her challenging high school years... alone after the divorce since she lived with her mother... all of which broke her heart, but also provided her with a fierce dedication to her cancer research), and she became very rich.

She didn't marry.

She didn't have kids.

Her mother had passed a few years ago, and she was an only child.

So she left me with a rather large inheritance... five million dollars.

But since mine wasn't family money, most residents of the stuck-up community saw me as beneath their notice. I didn't care; I didn't want to be anything like them anyways.

However, I soon did attract the notice of my snobby neighbors, but not in a good way; in fact they were mortified. My scandalous crime was that I continued working, finished my Masters in psychology, and now had the affrontery to conduct sessions from my home... and thereby was committing an additional offense by welcoming so-called undesirables into this rich utopia. They had taken legal action... twice... to try to stop me from conducting such a seedy business (counseling) in the community, and I'd recently heard they had hired a big time lawyer to see if the third time was indeed a charm.

That said, I was already considering moving away from here. My daughter was eighteen and leaving for college in Cambridge Massachusetts after the summer holidays, and I was thinking of following her there.

There would be nothing left for me here.

My daughter gone.

My husband having passed away eight years ago from a heart condition he didn't know he had until it was too late. Which was ironic, since my friend and benefactor had died more recently in such a similar way.

So, yes, I was rich. I was also frugal with my money, and had invested well and almost doubled my money in the last few years.

My primary goal was for my daughter never to be in need. She also had inherited a nice chunk of money when she turned eighteen from a trust fund her father had set up for her, that would easily pay for all seven years she planned to attend Harvard. True, she had a full ride scholarship, she was a very smart girl, but the living expenses in Cambridge were crazy high.

Anyways, my new neighbor I was visiting asked, "Can I get you a coffee?"

"Yes, please, black," I said and then paused awkwardly.

"It's okay to have your coffee black," she smiled, dressed very elegantly in a flower-patterned light-weight dress because of the heat wave we were suffering through, and surprisingly considering the weather, mocha coloured hosiery that I had to admit made her black legs shine. She added, oddly, in a tone I couldn't understand the purpose of, "All things black are delicious."

I thought of dark chocolate, which was the colour of her skin, and had to agree.

Did I mention she was the first black woman in this gated community? Ever?

It was scandalous. 'There goes the neighbourhood,' and other offensive sentiments were being bandied about the community.

She was also the youngest resident ever. Twenty-five. Her husband was a high-end lawyer. Her family fit the financial level requirement of the community, but not the unwritten and fortunately unenforceable racial one. She, on the other hand, was a masseuse and, like me, would soon be polluting our pristine community with the undesirables (such as middle-class people) patronizing her home business.

"Thanks," I laughed awkwardly, "I'm afraid I've been living in this 1950s suburbia too long."

She smiled, "There does appear to be a lack of colour here."

"Including you and your husband, there are two. And in case it needs saying, I'm delighted you're here."

"Thanks; it's good to be among friends. By the way, my name is Kimberly," she said, offering me her hand in a normal way, unlike the dainty pinky-finger bullshit of the community.

"I'm Fran," I responded.

"Nice to meet you," she said.

"You too," I said, feeling something about her that made me comfortable. She wasn't pretentious. She was just a plain folks woman, like me.

"You're the first one to stop by," she said, as she poured our coffees.

"No one from the welcome wagon?" I asked, even though it didn't surprise me. They'd come to me reluctantly with a standard goody basket, set it down on my porch, rang the bell and left, but I was at least white, so I was better than Kimberly and her husband.

"Not unless you're the welcome wagon," she shrugged.

"More like a fellow pariah," I joked, but also wanted to give her a warning.

"My husband and me because we're black and I'm young, and you because you don't come from family money," she described our situations correctly.

"Yep," I nodded.

"Even though Hamilton and I earned our money."

"Scandalous!" I said mockingly. "I hope you haven't told anyone!"

"I know," she laughed, and I felt an instant connection and knew I had a new ally in my fight against the aristocratic bullshit of the community.

We went outside to sit under an awning and to dangle our feet in her pool because of the heat, chatted like old friends and from that day on started getting together out there for daily coffees.

A few days later she surprised me by asking who were the most racist women in the community. I rattled off the top five, not even needing to think about it, and she jotted them down.

I wondered why and asked, "What are you planning to do?"

"Start a revolution," she answered, which was about as vague an answer as one could give.

I also met her husband Hamilton and he was a very good looking, friendly man, the word affable described him well, but it was pretty clear early on that Kimberly wore the pants in the household... although she never actually wore pants. What she did wear, always, were very lightweight summery dresses that allowed the cooling breezes through. What those breezes also did very frequently was to drape the fabric of her dresses closely against her curves, revealing that she never wore a bra. I tried not to notice, but with her voluptuous curves, that wasn't always easy. However, it was a good idea, and since it was just the two of us, I began going braless myself, and enjoying the cool breezes lightly wafting across my bosom.

Kimberly was an amazing woman, but it was obvious she wasn't someone you wanted to fuck with (unless you did it literally; and then it would probably be fabulous). Shit, why was I thinking like that?

We were having cocktails in the early afternoon by her pool a couple weeks later when she asked, "So, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure," I shrugged.

"Have you gotten laid since your husband died?"

I choked on my drink. Out of all the personal questions she might have asked, this one had never entered my head.

"Sorry, I'm a very blunt woman," she said, as she tinkled a summon-your-servant bell, which I imagine she'd learned from her appraisal of some of the other women in the community.

"No, I haven't," I answered, as I encountered the first of many shocks that would occur over the next hour.

"Yes, Madam?" a beautiful blonde in a maid's outfit approached Kimberly from the house.

"Please bring my friend a drink," Kimberly ordered.

"Yes, Madam," the maid nodded and turned to me. "What may I get for you, ma'am?"

"A lemonade, please," I requested, still shocked at what I was witnessing... this upside-down authority would rock the community to the core if it was known about.

"Make it a hard lemonade," Kimberly amended on my behalf.

"Yes, Madam," the pretty, model-like blonde nodded before walking away. Her skirt was so short, the entire lace tops of her thigh highs were in plain view.

"Do you know who that is?" Kimberly asked, once the maid had disappeared.

"I have no idea," I said, even as I wondered if any of the other women in the community knew about this. There were at least a dozen black maids in this community, also some Asian, Spanish and a few Pilipinos... but no other white maids at all, and this race role reversal would be the biggest scandal ever.

"She lives in this community," Kimberly hinted, smiling deviously.

Then it hit me.

She was Addison James' daughter.

"No way," I gasped.

"Yep," Kimberly nodded, "the revolution has begun."

"Which revolution is that?" I asked, curious as hell.

"The one I mentioned before; what it consists of is turning all these white bitches and their daughters into sluts for me," Kimberly explained succinctly.

"No way," I repeated, both shocked by her plan, yet also turned on.

The idea of these white... yes, bitches absolutely... being turned into pussy munchers to a black woman was way too delicious (pun intended).

"Oh yes, that Addison bitch was on her knees begging to service me in under fifteen minutes," Kimberly revealed.

"How did you pull it off?" I asked, completely compelled by the notion. I'd watched a fair amount of porn in the last few years, it was my release. Sometimes it was romantic porn, but mostly it was either: lesbian (I'd be lying if I said I wasn't bi-curious), interracial (black cocks look so inviting to us white bitches, and this time I mean bitches in a sexy way), and gangbangs (I know, I'm pretty prim and proper, I've only fucked one man in my life and none at all for eight years, but my deep dark fantasies frequently get that dark).

"Most white women can't resist chocolate," she answered vaguely, as the maid returned.

She handed me the drink, and because of her demeanor and the sexy way she was dressed I said, "Thank you, pretty girl."

"Thank you, ma'am," she replied with a little curtsey, not at all ashamed to be dressed in such stereotypically racially motivated attire. The flip of her skirt as she'd curtseyed had given me a glimpse of her smooth mons and also given me the knowledge she had no panties. Things were getting very interesting, and I wondered if I should remove my own panties just to be polite. At least I'd be a bit cooler.

"Do you want Abagail to eat your pussy?" Kimberly asked out of the blue and rather casually, surprise compounding surprise. Interesting had been an understatement!

"What?" I asked, even though I'd fully comprehended her words.

"She's a full-service maid," Kimberly explained. "She cleans, she serves, she massages my feet, she eats pussy, sucks cocks, and takes whatever I want to give her into her cute little hole and then thanks me for it. Isn't that right, Abagail?"

"Yes, Madam," Abagail replied, a girl I now recalled had attended Harvard this past year.

"Do you want to eat my friend's pussy?" Kimberly asked her politely.

"I'd love to," Abagail replied, turning towards me and asking politely. "May I please?"

I was stunned.

I was also horny.

Eight years of fingers and toys are not the same as a real cock or tongue.

"Here? Now?" I asked.

"Sure," Kimberly replied, standing up. "Why not?"

"It's a little unorthodox," I pointed out as the prettiest girl I'd ever seen face to face was now on her knees before me wearing not much more than a hopeful expression. The fact she'd been offered to me in a sexual capacity appeared to be a signal that her dress code had been altered, for she had stripped off her dress. Her lightly tanned and slightly sweaty breasts were lovely.

"I want you to be my partner in crime," Kimberly told me. "Together we're going to own this community."

"Really?" I asked, as I parted my legs, effectively giving the blonde permission to dig right in.

She reached her hands under my skirt and pulled down my panties, thus making my previous unvoiced offer irrelevant. They were quite moist because of the heat, but also because of the other reason.

"Yes, we're going to turn every woman here into our pussy-munching, cock-taking, submissive sluts," she declared.

"Mom loves your cock," Abagail gushed, as she tossed my panties aside.

"Now you've ruined my surprise, you dumb slut," Kimberly sighed, slapping the teen's bare ass rather hard and making a loud smacking sound.

"Sorry, Madam," the blonde apologized, before she leaned between my sweaty legs and began licking.

"Your... cock, she said?" I asked, with a moan as the first tongue in eight years made contact with my wet, needy pussy. (Yes, my late husband Jim was the kind of wonderful man who loved dining on my sushi.)

"So I guess the secret is out of the bag," she sighed as she pulled her dress over her head to reveal a massive pair of tits and an equally impressive and massive cock where her pussy should have been.

"Oh my," I said, staring at the eight-plus-inch ebony cock jutting from between her toned (and also sweaty) legs.

"That's what that Addison bitch said just before I face fucked her in front of her help," Kimberly bragged, as she stroked her glorious cock into its full hardness.

"It's so big," I said, in awe of both the teen doing a number between my legs and the massive black cock presenting itself between Kimberly's legs.

"It's a gift," she shrugged, as she walked over to me... her massive, I guesstimated nine-inch cock now right before me.

Figuring that nudity must be de riguer by now, I pulled my own dress over my head, revealing my sweat-drenched body, and feeling a trickle of perspiration running down between my breasts. In fact all three of us were shiny with sweat, and the now unobstructed breeze against my entire body felt marvelous. But there was also something else on my mind: Kimberly's cock.

I had to have it.

A cock.

Her cock.

Her black cock.

Right before me.

A real, live BBC. Something I'd fantasized about interacting with on many occasions but never had.

I asked, as I reached out to stroke the thick cock, "May I?"

"Certainly, if you wish," she said, looking down at me in a friendly fashion.

"It's been a long time," I said.

"How long?"

"Eight years," I answered, my eyes glazing over in a hypnotic daze at the perfection immediately before me and now blessedly in hand.

"Oh my God," she gasped. "You poor thing."

"I know," I sighed.

"That's an eternity," she said, mortified at my answer.

"It certainly felt that way," I laughed, "but now..." before opening my mouth and taking it in.

"Well, we'd absolutely better make up for lost time," she declared, as I tried to get used to something so thick and long in my mouth. This cock was substantially bigger in both length and girth than my late husband's cock.

I slowly bobbed, taking not even a third of it in my mouth as it completely hardened. It was indeed a majestic cock.

"That's it, Fran," Kimberly moaned softly, "get it nice and hard for that sweaty wet pussy of yours."

That she was promising to fuck me with this perfect cock had me instantly on fire... well, and the near-naked teen lapping away at my long-neglected pussy. Well, and the hot, humid day.

I responded by bobbing faster.

"Oh yes, you want my big cock, don't you?"

"Fuck, yes," I responded quickly, wanting her to know my urgency before devouring her cock again, although my body language was probably also rather clear.

After another thirty seconds of sucking that majestic cock, Kimberly pulled out and said, "I want you. Come ride me."

"Fuck, yes," I agreed eloquently as Kimberly lay down on a chaise. I literally pushed the pussy-pleasing pet away and scurried over to the huge, vertical cock saluting me.

"Everybody else in this neighbourhood will have to beg for this cock," Kimberly said, as I straddled her hips so I was facing her. "But you, my dear friend, will get to use it anytime you want."

"Then no one else will ever have a chance to use it," I smiled playfully, as I lowered myself onto the big black cock and lay down on top of her, breast to breast and mouth to mouth.

"Oh, I have an amazingly quick reload," Kimberly said as I took her cock in my needy cunt.

"Oh fuck, it's so big," I moaned, as I now enclosed nine inches of heaven. As my arousal combined with the ambient temperature to bring me to a boil.

"It's God's gift to me... and now to you as well," Kimberly shrugged.

"Then I'd better worship it properly, you lovely black angel," I countered as I began riding her.

"You may go and clean the kitchen, slut," Kimberly said and added, "you may remain unclothed if you wish," as I was so obsessed with the cock within me I'd forgotten a teenager was watching.

"Yes, Mistress," the teen said. "And thank you. But with that lovely air conditioning inside, I think I'll put my dress back on." Kimberly replied with a silent wave, indicating the girl was at liberty to do as she wished in that respect.

"Soon every bitch wife and dumb daughter around will be our playthings," Kimberly declared as I tried to get into a rhythm. I wasn't the most coordinated woman ever, and I was struggling to get into a smooth flow. It didn't help that my sweaty body was slipping and sliding all over hers.

"I can't believe you're turning these pretentious bitches into your cock sluts," I marveled, loving the image... it was the perfect revenge upon the pretentious, rich, racist bitches of this community.

"And it's so easy," Kimberly said, as she squeezed my tits.