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BLACK PEARL. An Erotic Mystery

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Pearl managed to get in trouble with herself just as soon as she got home. Instinctively, she understood that if she had desired music, she should have put on some Vickie Winans, some Mary Mary, or some Yolanda Adams, but instead she popped that “Oops” song by Tweet into the CD player.

Unfazed by the suggestive autoeroticism of the lyrics, Pearl found herself bouncing around, studying her thoughtful profile in the full length bedroom mirror.

Moving to the beat, Pearl reminded herself that as a church girl, she should be openly contemptuous of the song, rejecting it for it lyrical worthlessness, but what she discovered instead was that she was subconsciously following Tweet’s instructions.

Oops, there went her shirt!

Staring at her breasts as she unclasped the bra, Pearl knew it was time for her to rebuff her lewd intentions and actions, but she couldn’t fight against the intense euphoria she was experiencing. She was high on herself. At least that was a good enough explanation for herself, and at that moment she didn’t give a damn about anyone else.

“Oh my goodness,” Pearl gasped. This was her favorite part of the song. “Oh my goodness!” she gasped again. Before now, she didn’t even know she had a favorite part of that song. In fact, she didn’t even recall where she had gotten the CD, but none of that mattered now because all that was on her mind was getting out of her clothes as soon as she could. At the moment, she was not particularly attracted to anything that came between her fingers and her flesh. She wanted to touch herself. Badly.

Handling her beasts cautiously, Pearl could feel her insides grabbing back and for the first time an orgasm was something she could sense, so almost daring herself to do it, she rubbed herself high on the inside of her thigh, and without warning her breathing fell further and further behind the loud thumping of her heart. She broke out in a cold sweat.

This was no sexual prank! It felt too damn good and her pussy, which she had forever regarded as a furry, wrought-iron gate, now expressed itself as a portal to paradise while sensations she couldn’t decipher invited her inside.

Coming of age in front of her bedroom mirror, Pearl smelled the fragrance of her vagina for the first time. It was a sweet, musky nectar that overpowered her, overwhelming her senses, making her want to experiment with herself just that much more. And she did.

Initially, she merely touched herself. Then she went further, wanting more, boldly taking on an even bigger role in finding her own pleasure, and by gently applying pressure to the tip of her distended clitoris, she instantly savored the intimate drama of having a personal moment with herself. She squeezed. She screamed. Her body shook.

Quickly, she pulled her hand back but just as quickly convinced herself that she had to do it again. She fought against the impulse to be sexually greedy so she took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then she had a second private engagement with herself, but this time her touch was more nuanced, her untrained fingers spreading warmth and joy throughout the entire front entrance of her pussy.

Pearl growled like a lion.

Staring at her contorted face in the mirror, she wondered if this was how Brandy looked when she was doing it, but when her facial expression changed again, she noticed, that like a ballerina, she was perched on the tips of her toes and that her fingers were jabbing in and out of her sucking pussy like meat-filled pistons.

“Oh Jesus!” she cried aloud, whooping wildly at the wet intoxication of an orgasm. Her first.

Her body lovingly cared for, Pearl recognized that getting a nut was a lot like taking a sedative, and she found that she was absolutely relaxed with only a faint trace of guilt.

Sitting up in her room listening to Brandy sing “Sitting Up In My Room”, she wondered what to do now. She had no clue because where did you go when you had already gone too far?

Playing with herself had been a risky, complex adventure and she, though still sexually numb, had been quite fascinated by the choreography of her fingers, but it had shocked her that she had known how to use them! She found it remarkable that a full-fledged virgin would understand the delicate intricacy of a pussy she had not familiarized herself with beyond the clinical experience of personal hygiene. How could she have known to be so alert to the magical possibilities of self-stimulation? She had no answer for that.

Abruptly, Pearl felt she had better renew her faith to ward off any more idle thoughts of her wicked behavior so she grabbed her electronic King James Bible. She retrieved a passage from Psalms to serve as her devotional, but when instant inspiration didn’t come, she got worried. Suddenly, she wanted to listen to Oops again!

Two minutes later, she phoned her cousin Joy.

“I got a question for you.” Pearl paused. “It’s about size.”

“What about it?”

“How do you know what size is right for you?”

“Unless I’m missing something, I take it that you mean dick size. Am I right or wrong?”

“You’re not missing anything, so can I get my answer and go on about my business.”

“That’s simple, cuz. A gang-bang.”


“Yeah, you let four or five nigga run a train on you.”

“That’s the craziest---“

“Hold on, cuz. You asked, so hear me out. You owe me that much.”

“Okay,” Pearl relented, “go on.”

“You see, there’s some technical aspects to a gang-bang that a bitch must absolutely get right if she expects any kind of success. Anyway, you get these five niggas and let them fuck you in sequence.”

“In sequence?”

“That’s right. You let the one with the littlest dick go first. Then you move up the scale, increasing the size. Believe me, cuz, you’ll know when you hit your dosage-----“

Pearl quickly hung up. She didn’t know if she was hot and bothered or bothered and hot. All she knew was that she was sweating and that she already felt flushed.

Damn! She was going to hell!

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