First Time Sex with a Black GILF – Volume 4

Black GILF erotic short story by Jeremy Wahl.
Black GILF Erotic Story. You’ll love it!

Driving around at night in Miami, Florida you never know what is going to happen. Author Jeremy Wahl tells a couple of stories about night cruising some of the dangerous streets in this southern city of sin.

Then a huge surprise – bigger than DD-cups as an old black GILF (Grandmother I’d love to fuck) steps out of the shadows and walks right up to his car. Is it a set up? She reveals a stunning new technique Jeremy had never even heard of before, and gives Jeremy a night to remember in a church parking lot and then in a run-down piece of shit motel!

Read the sample below…

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First Time Sex with a Black GILF (Free Sample)

Living in Miami was great while it lasted. There were plenty of girls from all over the world, but mostly Latinas with roots in Cuba. The prostitutes were Latina, White, and Black in that order of availability.

I didn’t go out at night to look for girls much, I usually had someone I was dating or screwing, so nights were not free very much. That said, when I broke up with a girlfriend there would be that missing something that needed resolved. For weeks at a time, I might cruise the main strip and some of the backroad spots where freelancers selling a good time would be hanging out.

Obviously, this wasn’t the best way to go about things for a number of reasons. First of all, it was dangerous driving around after midnight in Miami. All sorts of crazy shit happens in that city and most of it I didn’t know anything about. I remember the first couple of times I went out after midnight just to drive around and check out the whores. I was antsy as fuck! It felt like I was an undercover detective spying on girls selling their ass. It felt so dangerous.

Over time I got used to driving around late at night. It was always interesting. I remember pulling into an all-night gas station just as the guy in front of me was attacked by two huge black guys. They beat the absolute shit out of him, kicking him so many times when he was already down. I locked my doors and slowly backed out. They looked at me and I must have looked innocent enough – and they didn’t run after my car.

Scary shit.

I’m sure that guy’s brain swelled, and he possibly died from the blows.

Did I report it? Nope. I didn’t know what was going on. The guy may have just slept with one of their girlfriends or wives. Maybe he hurt a little sister. What the hell did I know?

I remember another time a very thin girl ran out into the street, stumbling and with a severe limp that seemed to change from one side to another in the short time I was driving toward her. As I got closer, I could see she was young, maybe fifteen. Her clothes were torn. She was in agony. I slowed the car down and she leaned against it with both hands, crying and sliding down my fender.

I rolled the window down, not sure if I wanted to get out yet.

Hey, are you OK? What happened? Are you alright?

Do you want to go to the hospital?

She wailed out loud, crying and stammering indecipherably. I looked around and didn’t see anyone around, I got out and took her over to the passenger side and helped her get into the seat. As I did, she suddenly looked up at me and screamed, chilling me to the bone.

‘Ahhh! I thought you were one of them. OK, you’re not right? You’re not part of them. OHhhhhh god, did you follow me? You’re not one of them, right? You’re not right?’

I reassured her a couple of hundred times as I was driving to the hospital to drop her off. When she realized we were going out of that neighborhood she got paranoid again that I was with them and that I was going to beat her up again.

A group of guys had apparently taken her in a van or truck and raped her and beat her up. She was bruised all over.

Her legs, arms, face and everywhere I looked had bruises, some of them really big. She was crying and shaking.

We were five minutes away from the hospital. She said, ‘Where you going?’

I said, ‘the hospital.’

‘NO! No, I can’t go there. Take me to my Aunt’s place in Hialeah.’ I turned around and drove for five minutes before she got so paranoid she told me to stop ahead. I did. She was getting out. I asked if she needed money. She asked if I had $30. I handed it to her. She got back in the car. You want some good head? You’re a good guy, I’ll give you some good head for this money.

I said no, just take it and go somewhere safe.

I didn’t know what the hell to do with her. She was on drugs of some sort. Something that made her paranoid. She probably bought more drugs with what I gave her, but what the hell? As I said, I have no experience in these matters and probably did the wrong thing.

The story I’m leading up to takes all of this into account. The fear of being in a place I didn’t understand. The fear of what someone’s motivations were for getting into a car with a stranger. The fear of disease. The fear of being set up. The fear of sting operations. Etc.

It’s scary as hell on the streets!

If you decide to do anything like this, take all the precautions you can. There are people setting up johns all the time. I can’t tell you how many faces of guys jailed for picking up prostitutes in Miami I saw on the nightly news! Easily a thousand.


It was lightly raining and early, around 9:30 p.m. on a Sunday night.

I had been driving around for about thirty minutes trying to find some hot young ho to satisfy the pressure in my pants that had been there for almost three days. I had seen a few girls on the street and they were all in bad shape. I can’t stand crack whores for even a minute, and the girls I saw that night were just that.

Did you ever have someone stick their glass crack pipe in the side compartment of your door and find it later while cleaning the car with your girlfriend? Or a used condom under the seat? Both happened to me, and it put me off the hard-core ho’s for good!

So, it was raining a bit and I was looking for girls sheltering under roofs of any sort.

I was going up a side street off the main drag and I saw a woman seem to come out from under a tree in someone’s front yard, toward the street as I was getting closer. She had an umbrella. She had old lady glasses. She had gigantic boobs. She was short – around 5 feet. She was black.

As I got closer, I could see she was older. No, I mean OLDER. She was about 70? Or maybe 60? Maybe she was just aging badly. I could swear she was smiling as she was walking over the grass toward the street in front of me. Smiling at me.

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