David Alexander - Bert

When Bert told him that he was, the teacher continued, "Good. But remember that the entire thing has to be at the printer's shop before midnight so he can burn the plates and get it run. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, Mr. Woodward. Have a nice evening."

"I will, Bert, I will. Jim Elliot and I are going over to Jeff Morehead's house for a little poker game. But don't spread it around. We school types have to keep that goodie-goodie facade at all costs. We're not supposed to smoke or drink or gamble or fuck. Or be human, if the school board had their way. 'Night!" With that, the man was off.

Bert sighed and went in the darkroom glued onto the back of the classroom. He began setting up his developing pans and mixing the Dektol and a fresh batch of stop bath. Bert critically surveyed the fixer solution and decided that he could filter out some of the silver sediment at the bottom and use the fluid again, for one more batch of prints, at least. The youthful photographer checked out his enlarger and made sure he had the negatives he needed. Most were of the football team, a few were of the cheerleaders. Bert longingly eyed a particularly good shot of Carole leaping into the air, legs spread wide and her head thrown back in a wild cheer. Bert sat on the large counter for several minutes looking at the negative and thinking what it would be like to get into Carole's pants.

He almost jumped when a low, sultry voice demanded, "What the hell are you doing here?"

He turned frightened eyes to the doorway and saw Alana Montray, the editor of the newspaper. Bert sighed in relief. He had thought it was a guard or someone come to toss him out. He hadn't bothered to get a pass from Woodward and he couldn't prove he hadn't broken in to steal something.

"Hi, Alana. I'm just getting ready to do some layout work for the sport section tomorrow. What are you doing here?" Bert eyed the black chick for the first time. Somehow, he had been more of a rabbit than a man before he had fucked Robin. Now he was more outgoing, more positive in his approach to women. And Alana could be described as worthy of an approach.

The girl was alluring, svelt, trim. Her frizzy Afro hairdo accentuated the slender-boned face, the deep brown skin the color of mocha. And her body! Bert wondered how he could have ever failed to notice that before.

She had moderately large tits, but the tiny waist and decidedly feminine hips stretched her doubleknit pantsuit outfit to the limits of endurance. If she'd had a rip in the garment, Bert thought she'd have to mend it with a can of spray paint. The shocking pink outfit clung to her like a second skin. And anew, Bert wondered how he could have missed do much. Perhaps her constant nearness had made him overlook her.

But he certainly couldn't overlook her now. He could see the tiny mushrooms that were her nipples prodding against the fabric of her blouse. Bert guessed there must be a jacket to the outfit somewhere, but it had been cast aside to reveal the almost see-through lacy white blouse.

As Alana leaned against the doorjamb and crossed one leg in front of the other, she said, "I don't know what it is with you, Bert. Lately you seem so…different, I guess. Something happen to your head?"

His head? Hardly!

"You know how it is, Alana. When you're hot, you're hot. And this seems like a good time for me. Things have been clicking. But don't stand there. Come on in. You said you wanted to see how we photographers worked."

Alana smiled, ivory teeth flashing and contrasting with her dark skin. "Man, you have changed!" She slowly pulled the door shut and plunged the room into total darkness.

Bert knew the layout of the darkroom as well as his own bedroom. He took three rapid steps toward Alana and reached out, his hand finding a large, marshmallowy tit. When she squealed, Bert said, "Oh, sorry. The sudden darkness made me lose my balance."

"Like hell it did. When I said you'd changed, I was really understating it a lot, wasn't I?" Bert felt the editor move closer to him, reach out and grasp his other hand. She pulled it up to her neglected tit and quietly said, "There is two of them, you know…"

Bert didn't need any more urging. His mouth descended with radar-like accuracy and found the black girl's to stifle any further comment with a long, deep kiss. As his tongue penetrated the vastness of herr oral cavern, Alana groaned and her arms encircled bert, pulling him closer.

Their bodies locked together, they continued a long soul kiss. Bert didn't ever want to stop. He relished the feel of her cool skin against his body, the feel of her hands roaming aimlessly across his back. His hands became cramped, but he was loathe to give up his twin handfuls of titflesh. Alana was a really stacked, hot chick, and he didn't want to let her escape.

Finally, they had to break apart in order to catch their breath. Alana said in her husky, sultry voice, "Man, have you changed!"

"For the better?" Bert asked, as his now numble fingers began unfastening the buttons on Alana's fragile blouse. He felt the girl returning the favor and, soon, they were both naked to the waist. He gripped the girl to him again, this time powerfully crushing her body against his. The kiss was electric. Scintillatiing current flowed magnically between them. He felt the sharp points of her compressed tits poking into his chest. As the girl's passion mounted, her nipples became hareder and tried to spear holes in the photographer's chest.

Bert allowed one hand to wander down inside the waist band of his editor's slacks, and he grasped a handful of black ass. Slowly, methodically, he began massaging and kneading the globe of flesh as he pulled her ever so closer to him. He felt the girl's mound grind up against his hardon, then eventually begin to rotate around and around testing his self-control to the utmost. With Alana rubbing against the sensitive underside, it took all of his concentration to keep from ejaculating.

But he was learning. He kept his attention focused on her lucious mouth, her lust-hardened nipples gouging into his smooth chest, the handful of asscheek he was playing with. He tried to ignore the little campfire in his groin that was threatening to leap out into a full fledged forest fire at any moment.

Alana deserted his mouth to move her agile, flickering tongue to his ear. Bert felt the hot, quick breath on his earlobe, thrilled to the sensation of the snake-quick thrusts of her oral digit plunging into his ear channel. When she began to nibble and gnaw lightly on his ear, Bert muttered, "I need you, Alana. I want you more than I have anyone else before."

"No, Bert, no… I don't want to get pregnant."

While she was making her protestations, Bert was orally working on her ears. It was quickly apparent this was an extremely erogenous zone for her. The black editor could barely gasp out her incoherent protests when Bert huskily whispered, "I can take you in the rear. Bend over and let me get those fancy pants off you!"

Alana was beyond being able to control her body's needs and desires. She allowed Bert to slowly strip her in the darkroom. All the time he was fumbling with the zippers and snaps, he kissed her trim, slightly rounded belly. When his tongue found the deep depression of her navel, he slowly, languorously lapped and licked around it, leaving a trail of saliva that could have glistened had their activities been spotlighted.

Alana lifted her left foot, then her right, and slipped free of her clothing to stand totally naked in front of Bert. His hands and tongue knew she was unclothed; he wanted to see her in full naked, gleaming blackd glory. He reached up and turned on the safelight with a #10 Kodak filter in it. The room was immediately cast in the dim yellow-orange light, and Bert could see Alana for the first time.

Really see her for the first time. The pale orange light highlighted her black skin and made her appear even more exotic to him. The very tips of her jugs were firm, hard, erect and protruding in obvious lust. Bert silently thrilled knowing it was lust for him that had brought the sexy black girl to this agitated state. Her smooth flanks dully reflected the light and the saliva trail he had left across her belly took on an almost phosphorescent quality.