"What would they think?" My voice has a light, teasing edge to it, but it's clear there's an element of genuine concern there too. The night is hot, the room dark, but right now all I can see is you, impossibly beautiful you, clambering into my lap and straddling me in a dangerously un-platonic fashion. My breath catches in my throat as I reflexively take you by the shoulders - not to push you away, but to keep a modicum of distance before my self-control crumbles. “Chloe, you know this won’t-”

"Don't care." Your fingers fumble with my belt buckle, breath hot on my neck as you push yourself closer, chest to chest as your soft butt grinds against my lap.

I stifle the automatic gasp. "But your dad always said he’d ki-"

"Alex," you hiss, pulling back for a second to lock your soft, dark eyes on mine. "I said I don't give a flying fuck right now. Get that fat white dick out or I swear to God I-"

My head reels. This isn’t like you - this is a different Chloe, one that until tonight has only existed in my guiltiest, most secret dreams. Impulsively, I lean forward a little and cut you off with a kiss. It's radical, a little crazy, and it feels kind of wrong, but I barely have time to reflect on the weirdness of how soft my lifelong best friend's lips are before you're pulling away, a deep blush visible even on your darker skin.

"What the fuckkkk?!" you splutter, smacking me repeatedly on the upper arm as your eyes grow wide. You don't seem too mad about it, though. “Alex!”

"Calm down, girl," I chuckle, trying to unhook your hands from my rapidly loosening jeans. I did not need you discovering how hard the sudden assault has made me, even as you wriggle in my lap. "You're talking crazy shit. Your family barely even let you hang out with me in the first place, this-" I gesture to your curvaceous, beautiful body wedged into my lap - "- might get you excommunicated. Don't be stupid."

"That's not a no," you note, your voice still thick with lust.

"It's… not," I admit, trying to resist the urge to roll my hips, grab your waist, something to reciprocate… "I just… don't want you to make any stupid mistakes."

Sighing in sharp exasperation, you sit back for a moment, only to completely undermine my relief by peeling off your t-shirt and tossing it aside in one swift motion. The elaborate, perfectly fitting white lace bra - the kind you always said you'd never wear - contrasts sharply with your dusky skin in the dark room, suggesting to me that this sudden move was more planned than spontaneous. "I've seen you looking, white boy," you say bluntly.

I can only nod, a deer in the headlights. I'm looking right now, in fact, unable to tear my eyes away. "I'll admit it without shame."

"You know how that makes me feel?" you prompt further, squeezing your upper arms to deepen your cleavage.

I wince, tearing my eyes away to look you in the eyes as best I can. "Objectified?"

"Hot."

I swallow roughly, my mouth suddenly dry as the Sahara. "Well… you are. There's a reason I hype you up to all the nice boys your dad tries to set you up with." It's true - I've long accepted that my tentative place in this family unit is as an outsider, teetering on the edge of acceptability.

"They don't make me feel like you do. They never have."

My heart is beating at a rate that I'm sure will kill me if it doesn’t burst from my chest first. "Chloe…"

"Shut up. Just shut up!" There's tears in your eyes now. "Do you know how it feels to watch for fifteen fucking years as you grow into everything I've ever wanted? Even though I'm not allowed to have you? Even though touching you would ruin me?"

Biting my lip, I nod slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I know how that feels." Unable to stop myself from reaching out once more, I gently wrap my arms around your mostly-bare torso and pull you into a hug, trying to ignore my burning arousal for a moment. "I've wanted to do this every goddamn day for at least ten of those years," I confess, my voice a low murmur near your ear as your head nestles into my shoulder. I brush a strand of dark hair out of the way. "You don't think I've wanted you all this time?"

You shiver, a deep, satisfied shudder as you melt into my arms. "Then do it."

"Do what?" I ask, although I'm afraid I know the answer.

"Fuck me. Please."

Underneath where you've wound up curler into my lap, your words deal the final blow to any semblance of self-restraint when it comes to my rapidly hardening cock.

You whimper gently, sliding your hips back and forward a little over the bulge in my pants. "Is that my answer?" you beg. "Is that the thick, hard white cock I've been waiting for?"

I can't speak, but as your hands fly back to my belt and my lips crash against yours once more, it feels like words aren't needed.

Hi, I'd like to explore this scenario a bit. First of all, I should clarify a couple of things.

• 'Chloe' is just a filler because I hate not using names in conversation, but I hate writing prompts that use [Name] more. Run with it or feel free to substitute your own.

• Soft raceplay means soft raceplay. It does not involve slurs, white supremacy, 'colonizing that pussy' or anything similar. The focus is more on the social taboo of a young woman from a pretty conservative family risking it all to get be with by the white best friend that her parents have tolerated up until now.

• What it does involve is contrast. Clashing skin colours, clashing cultures. White cum on brown/black skin, the stereotypical 'big white cock,' that sort of thing. Light teasing and playing into the taboo a little - let me know what it looks like for you, because this is a pretty sensitive kink and everyone's experience/mileage is different.

• Speaking of, I left your ethnicity totally up in the air. Asian, Black, Arab, Native American, Māori, literally whatever. As long as there's a visible difference between us, I've got no intention of being picky.

I sort of envision this taking place in a typical Western country - it’s up to you whether your family is a relatively recent arrival or not (or perhaps they were here first, depending on your background), but either way they’re not particularly keen on you hanging around with a white guy. Dating outside your ethnicity is hugely discouraged, so the only reason I’ve been allowed to live is that I’ve shown no outward interest in you, perhaps have even dated other girls to distract myself from my secret crush.

Ideally this would be pretty explosive, simultaneously realising we’ve both been harbouring the same feelings for years. I’m down for winding the clock back a little to see how we got here if you like, or we can pick up where I left off and deal with all the challenges going forward. Definitely not a slow burn, lots of sex, but a fair bit of drama likely involved as well. Do we try to hide what we’re doing? For how long? When will we have to bite the bullet and confess everything to your family? Mine don’t mind, by the way; they love you, and only stopped teasing me about you because I made it clear nothing could ever happen between us.

Kinks: cum, and loads of it. Costumes, lingerie, clothing play (having you attend family events dressed a little more scandalously than usual, etc). I like somewhat thicker/curvier partners, but a size difference is great too. Hand and mouth play (often together), gentle hair pulling. Romance and sweetness, affection, foreplay, aftercare, kissing etc. I lean dominant, but in the soft and caring sense rather than anything harsh or punitive. I love to spoil and serve. And just because sex is romantic, doesn't mean it can't be rough and dynamic as well.

Limits: butt stuff, toilet stuff, cruel stuff, inflicting or receiving pain more serious than nibbles, scratches and spanking, and racism. And this prompt hopefully doesn't encourage it, but I keep getting it in replies so I'll mention it again: no misogyny.

NB: feel free to tease me for being a basic white boy as part of it. I'm not sensitive in that regard.

I should add some details about my character, oops. I'm 29, but playing about 24 would make most sense for me here I think. Tall, broad shouldered, a little fluffy round the middle, thick brown hair and blue-grey eyes partly hidden behind deep blue-framed glasses. Clean-shaven and presentable, no tattoos or piercings, beginning a career as an English teacher: ultimately a sufficiently non-threatening white boy for grudging family approval, but that won’t protect me if I lay a hand on you...

I've gone on long enough (as usual), so let me cut it off here. Let me know if there's anything else you want to throw in, but first and foremost - let me know what raceplay is for you, and what level you're comfortable with.