The one thing which could he said about Beth Smith, was that she was an ideal housewife. She kept an immaculate house, liked to cook all of her own meals, and took delight in making the yard beautiful. Unlike a lot of modern women, she truly loved the role of being a housewife. She relished it. She'd been doing it for ten years, and would be happy to do it for the rest of her life.
"C'mon sleepyhead!" she called again. "Hurry! Get up! You're gonna be late."
"I'll be down in a couple of minutes, sweetheart," said Herschel, her husband.
She rushed back to the kitchen to see about the scrambled eggs. She prided herself on never burning anything which she cooked. Everything was perfect. Always. She wouldn't have it any other way. In fact it could be said that she had a perfect little home on a perfect little street in a perfect little middle class, Middle American neighborhood. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.
Even her body was perfect. She was tall, lean, well sculpted and beautiful. Many of Herschel's friends thought that she was the best looking woman in the city. Whenever they saw her, they frequently sprouted intense erections.
She never heard any of the comments which were whispered behind her back whenever she walked down the street. She was too busy standing straight and walking with her head held high-not because she was snotty, but because this was the perfect way for an attractive woman to walk. Of course when she passed a group of men-working stiffs and executives alike-they would mumble, "Mmmmm! I'd like to plug that lovely piece of ass!" or, "I'd like to fuck her every which way under the sun."
Nearly every able-bodied male in Parsleyburg felt the same way. Yes, if a man could develop a hard-on, he wanted to stick it in some orifice of Mrs. Beth Smith. Either her mouth, anus, or cunt.
But Beth had never had many hard-ons stuck in her. From all appearances, it looked as if she had the perfect marriage and a wonderful sex life, but in truth her perfect body was sexually unfulfilled. Oh sure, her husband fucked her every now and then in the missionary position, but it just wasn't enough. Twice a month left her yearning for more.
And his penis wasn't as big as she desired. Four inches might be fine for a budding adolescent who didn't know diddly squat about sex, but she was a fully grown woman who wanted things to be perfect. Heck, whenever Herschel stuck his tiny dick into her, she couldn't feel a thing.
But she wouldn't complain. After all, she must maintain the facade of having a perfect marriage. People would think less of her if they knew the truth. She would remain silent and work on polishing her image as the All-American Happy Housewife.
Yet, she was coming to realize that she truly did have sexual needs. Frequently during the day she would rub her thighs together and bring herself off. As she'd grown older she'd come to understand that her libido was growing stronger-not weaker! Yet Herschel seemed totally unaware of this slow transformation taking place in his wife.
"C'mon Herschel!" she called once more. "If you're not down here in five minutes, you'll definitely be late for work. Now hurry! Hurry!"
Herschel didn't want to get up. He wanted to stay beneath the covers and go back to sleep. He knew what was in store for him today. He would be laid off. It had been coming for weeks. Business had been slow, and his sales figures had been atrocious. His boss had only kept him on as long as he had out of mercy.
Herschel didn't know what his problem was. He rolled over on his back, looked at the ceiling, and began thinking. Here he was, thirty-six years old and about to be terminated from his job of the past fourteen years. Shit! The economy was slow and the likelihood of him finding another sales job soon was practically nonexistent. To make matters worse, he realized that he was married to the most beautiful woman in town, and yet he didn't seem to be sexually excited by her anymore. Could it that what they said was true? That familiarity really did breed contempt-or at least boredom.
He ran his hand over his whiskers and scratched his face. Maybe he would find her more desirable if she were more of a regular slob, instead of always playing Miss Perfectionist. Shit! A particle of dust didn't have a chance in their house. The instant it settled on something it was wiped up. Of course, he realized that if she didn't have so much free time on her hands, she wouldn't have the time to be the ideal housewife. She'd be worn to a frazzle like him.
He heard the footsteps on the stairs and heard her call one more time, "Honey! C'mon! C'mon! You don't want to be late."
He looked at their wedding picture atop the dresser. Ah yes! There she was, Mrs. Beth Smith. What an image of perfection. Moderate length blonde hair with every single strand in its perfect place, clear blue eyes set in perfectly white irises, perfect peach complexion kept in perfect condition with vigorous exercise and oodles of moisturizers, and a perfect body which rivaled the absolute best in the girlie magazines. And incredibly, she looked as good today as she did on her wedding day. Over the years the only physical change he had noticed was that her tits had gotten a little fuller. But that was okay, it actually looked sexier.
Yes, any man would be proud to be married to a woman like that. Any man. However, he never fully got to appreciate that beautiful body of hers. She was a blonde dream boat, but he didn't know how to row the oars. It wasn't her fault-it was his. He just wasn't much of a man. He lacked sexual self-confidence. Maybe a change of pace was necessary to rekindle the flame in the marriage.
He chuckled slightly into his pillow. "Change of pace. Shit!" he whispered. "When I tell her I've been laid off that will be a real change of pace. When I tell her she's got to find a job, that should throw some sparks into an otherwise dull marriage."
Beth was placing the scrambled eggs on the table when Herschel finally came downstairs. "Well, there you are, sleepyhead. I thought you'd never get up. C'mon! You've got to eat," she said in a motherly tone. "We've got to get those calories in you. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know. Now, eat up. I've made you a nice hearty breakfast."
That she had. There was enough food on the table to feed several man twice his size. Oh well, it was better than not having any food at all on the table. That was probably the worst thing that his friends, Sam and Fred had to put up with. From the way they talked it sounded as if their wives never got out of bed and didn't give a shit about domestic chores. Fred's wife, Cynthia, sounded as if she couldn't even keep her knees together. The woman was like a cat in heat who was ready to hump every night of the week-a real true to life nymphomaniac.
Of course, the same could be said for Sam's wife, Donna. From what Sam had said, it sounded like that good-looking brunette liked sex better than life itself. One day in the men's room he turned to Herschel and said, "My wife drinks at my fountain at least three times per night."
"I don't follow," said Herschel.
"You know, we have intercourse at least three times every evening. I'd do it more but I can't get the damn thing up more than that," Sam said with a ribald laugh.
Although Herschel was bored with his marriage, he was certainly glad that Beth wasn't like either Cynthia or Donna. He wouldn't know how to behave if she was. Heck! With his low self esteem he could barely get it up twice a month as it was. Goodness knows what would happen if he had to perform more than that.
Unlike Beth, he was actually quite pleased with the sex in his marriage. He was glad that he had married a beautiful woman with a low libido. It made it so much easier in the long run.
He sat down to eat his breakfast and watched his wife busy herself cleaning up the kitchen. He never understood her passion for cleanliness. It bordered on being a mania. A speck of dust didn't have a chance in the house. He remembered going over to Fred's one night for dinner. Cynthia not only didn't dust-she could give a shit if it piled a quarter-inch high. Apparently what Fred said about her was true. She truly did like to spend all day in the sack.
Of course, Cynthia worked nights. She'd been employed as a waitress at the Kitty-Kat Club for several months now. He asked Fred how she enjoyed it and he replied that she made good money, but was always exhausted when she got home.
"How good of money?" asked Herschel.
"Real good money. Sometimes she makes more in one night than I make in one week."
Herschel kept the details of that conversation in mind. After all, he knew that things were not going well for him at his place of employment. If he were laid off, it might be necessary for Beth to get a job at the Kitty Kat. From what he understood the only requirement was that a woman had to be beautiful in order to be a waitress there. His wife was certainly that. Wherever she went, she made men's heads turn.
Beth quit dusting for a moment to say, "Hurry up and eat, honey. You're going to be late for work."
"I know sweetheart," he said between bites. "But I'm going to have to leave these eggs. Thanks." He got up from the table, grabbed his coat from the closet, and rushed out the door.
"Wait a minute, darling. Give me a good-bye kiss," said Beth as she rushed to the door. Just as she pecked her husband on the cheek, she saw the large black mailman waking up the sidewalk. She quickly turned and asked, "Leroy, would you like to finish my husband's breakfast? He didn't eat it all."
"Why sure," he said with a bright smile. "I'd love it."
Herschel rushed by Leroy and went on his way to work. In the meantime the mailman walked to the front door and Beth closed it behind him.
"Step into the kitchen. It's through those doors."
He would have much rather been led to the bathroom. Without a doubt Beth Smith was the best looking broad on his route. There wasn't another lady who could compare. She had all the features that he loved in a woman. Large breasts, narrow waist, shapely hips, long legs, and an innocent face. Wow! He'd love to fuck the living brains out of her the way he'd been doing that redhead, Cynthia Jones, who lived over there on Adams Street.
Mmmm! Now there was a woman who knew how to fuck. And she didn't mind the fact that he was black one iota. In fact, it seemed to turn her on that much more.
Donna Wallace was also a great fuck. That shapely petite brunette seemed to have a cunt which was a milking machine. She just couldn't get enough of his long black spear. Many times he would hurry to finish the first part of his route so that he could spend more time on McKinley Street balling Mrs. Wallace. Yes, she was a hot number.
But Beth Smith was without a doubt the one that he wanted to screw the most. There was something especially delightful about watching a beautiful blonde take black cock into her gorgeous cunt. And Mrs. Smith had that much more appeal because she seemed so refined-so innocent. She had that girl-next-door quality about her. When she was in high school she was undoubtedly the girl that every boy wanted to date, feel-up, and fuck. She probably had those great legs and those same full breasts by the time she was fifteen.
"Sure is a beautiful morning," he said as he followed her into the kitchen.
"It sure is," she said with her lovely smile. "Would you like any orange juice to go with your breakfast?"
"If you're offering, I'm taking," he replied with a smile of his own, attempting to score as many points as possible as rapidly as possible.
She walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. She bent down to pick up the pitcher. As she did, her magnificent ass was thrust outward in his direction.
Leroy licked his lips. This woman had one of the best asses of any female on his route. He could tell by the way the bathrobe material clung to her buttocks that she was fit and trim. Mmmm, he would love to rush over, raise the hem of that garment, and ram his black prick into her pink snatch. Well, if he played his cards right, he might get to do that in the not too distant future.
She stood up and returned to the counter. Her robe had ridden up slightly and was stuck at mid-thigh. He could see that she had a beautiful pair of legs-better than Cynthia's even. The calves were well-sculptured, the knees were smooth, and from what he could tell, the thighs appeared to be magnificent.
As she stirred the pitcher of orange juice he could see her breasts shake. Good! That meant that she wasn't wearing a bra. He might get a chance to get a close-up look at those knockers of hers. They appeared to be a size thirty-six C. The perfect pair.
The only broad he could think of who had a set as good was Cynthia Jones. He would like to get the two women together and make an up close and personal comparison.
"Here you go," Beth said, bringing the orange juice to the kitchen table. "By the way, how are the eggs?"
"Everything's fine, Mrs. Smith," he said with a gentlemanly nod. "Just terrific. However, I could use a little butter for the toast."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said apologetically, almost ashamed of herself for not doing something perfect. "I already put it up. I'll get it for you immediately."
He really didn't want the butter. He just wanted to see the shape of her ass again as it pressed outward on her bathrobe.
She walked over to the refrigerator, opened the door, and bent down once more. Oh! It was a beautiful sight. There wasn't a more glorious visage in all of North America than that of a well-shaped female thrusting her derriere outward. And to make things even better, she had to stretch herself forward that much more to retrieve the butter, thus thrusting the buttocks outward even more enticingly.
"It was a long way back there, but I got it," she said as she stood up. She walked back to the kitchen table, sat down, and smiled.
"Aren't you a bit early on your route today?" she asked as she smoothed the robe down her legs.
"Actually I am. I like to hurry things along so that I can get off earlier at the end of the day." He didn't want to tell her the real reason he was rushing. He didn't think that Mrs. Smith would understand his need to knock off a piece of ass over at Cynthia Jone's house before noon. Cynthia was promising to perform the Thailand basket trick today.
"I think that's smart to do that," said Beth as she took a sip of her coffee. "Sometimes I wish my husband didn't work such long hours. It would be nice to have him home early once in a while."
Leroy decided to take a chance and make a suggestive comment. "Do you mean for a little afternoon sex?" he asked with a smile.
She spilled some coffee and blushed deeply. She quickly wiped up the spill with a napkin and said, "No silly. I didn't mean that. I meant that it's nice just to have him around. It's nice to have company."
Leroy decided to play it cool. He didn't want to press his luck by pursuing the conversation beyond normal parameters, so he simply asked, "How long have you guys been married?"
"About ten years now. Our wedding anniversary is on the fourteenth of this month."
"That's nice," he replied while glancing down to check out the sweet curve of her large breasts pressing against the material of the robe. They were certainly a magnificent pair all right. He would love to get a close up view of them. A real close up view.
She saw where he was looking and blushed again. Over the years she had gotten used to men looking at her, but that was usually when she was fully dressed. Leroy's admiring glances was throwing her off-balance because she was only wearing a bathrobe. "Have you ever been married?" she asked, trying to divert his attention from her body.
"Twice," he replied with a cynical tone. "And I don't ever want to go through that aggravation again."
"That bad, huh?" Beth asked with a knowing smile.
"The worst. Even worse than the worst."
"What do you mean?"
"My former wives were dirt. They never did any housework. They never kept the house as neat as this. The whole time we were married they never even made me breakfast - not once. Never. But this," he said, pointing to his eggs, "is truly a royal treatment."
"Why thank you," she said, beaming, deeply appreciative of his nice compliment.
What he was saying was a pure pack of lies. His former wives weren't dirt. They just couldn't stand his constant philandering. They got tired of coming home and finding him in bed with various women. His first wife, Mable, came home and found him in bed with two dark-skinned beauties.
"What's this?" screamed Mable at the top of her lungs.
Leroy lifted his head from between Ginger's thighs and said, "It's called cunnilingus. You really ought to try it some time."
With that, Mable stalked out of the room and straight to the courthouse, filing for divorce within the hour.
Several years later his second wife, Ginger, came home and found him in bed with Laureen, her best friend.
"What's this?" screamed Ginger at the top of her lungs.
Not knowing what else to say, Leroy simply kept pumping away while he replied, "It's called 'Knocking off a Piece of your Wife's Best Friend'."
With that, Ginger stalked out of the room and dashed to the courthouse, where she promptly filed for divorce.
After two failed marriages he had learned that a woman liked to be appreciated. Thus, if Beth went out of her way to do chores, she should be told how special she was. Unfortunately many men overlooked this important aspect of a relationship. They took their wives for granted. That's why the good women usually always left.
"Mmmm! You make the best tasting eggs," Leroy said with a smile. "They're absolutely delicious."
Beth leaned forward and tapped her knuckles on the table. "It's so nice having a man around who appreciates things!" she exclaimed. "Herschel never pays me a compliment about my cooking. Never. Getting a compliment out of him is like prying with a crowbar."
As she leaned forward, Leroy took the opportunity to glance down at her cleavage. Mmmph! He could tell that she had magnificent tits. Gosh! He wish that she would open the top of her robe so he could feast his eyes on their resplendent beauty. He bet she had nipples the size of silver dollars, and colored a sweet pink strawberry. He would like to lap with his tongue for a few hours.
"How far over does you route extend?" asked Beth, trying again to divert his attentions from her body.
He glanced from her cleavage to her face and replied, "I've basically got all the streets named after presidents. All the ones from Washington to Truman."
She paused for a couple of seconds and said, "You must be the mailman for a couple of my friends."
"Probably. What are their names?"
"Cynthia Jones and Donna Wallace."
He almost choked when he heard their names. "Er ... yea ... I know them. I didn't know that they were your friends."
"Well that's understandable. You and I have never taken the time to chit-chat before."
He decided to play a little game. He scratched his head and said, "Or at least I think that I know them. What color hair does Cynthia have?"
"She has beautiful titian-colored hair."
"Forgive me," he interrupted, "but I only have a high school education. I don't know what 'titian' means."
"It's sort of a golden redhead."
"Well, I know that I deliver the mail to a redhead who lives over on Adams Street ... "
"That's her! That's her! I'll be darned. I'll have to tell her that I have the same mailman. And of course, that means that you deliver Donna Wallace's mail as well. How about that!"
He smiled in return. Yes how about that. He had three of the choicest looking cunts in town on his route, and he was currently fucking two of them on a regular basis. Hell! If he added Beth to his list, he'd have to start his route at four o'clock in the morning.
A smile crossed his face. He wondered what it might be like to fuck all three of them on a single day. A blue-eyed blonde first thing in the morning, followed by a brown-eyed redhead, followed by a brown-eyed brunette. With three beauties like that a man could develop calluses on his pecker. But what a wonderful way to go.
"Anyway, Cynthia and I have been friends for a long time. We go way back."
"Yea, I think that she's married to a fellow named Fred, right?"
"That's right. He's one of my husband's best friends. They work together."
"And this Donna is married to a fellow named Sam, right?"
"Right again. He also works with my husband. I think that this is so neat. Everybody knows each other."
"Yea, it happens once in a while," he said as he shoved the last spoonful of eggs into his mouth and chewed them. "I thank you for the meal, Mrs. Smith, but I've got to be on my way."
"Please call me 'Beth'," she said with a smile. "I feel that mailmen should be on a first name basis with their patrons, don't you?"
He looked at her and smiled. "You betcha." Shit! He wished that he had another hour to kill. If he had a chance he knew that he could get this woman into the sack before the morning was out. He would love to spread her thighs and try her on for size.
As Leroy walked to the door, Beth couldn't help noticing how handsome he was. She had never reacted that way to a black male before. But then, she had to remind herself, that she had never been around that many blacks. The only ones she ever saw in person rode on the back of the garbage truck, or worked in the supermarket or at the post office like Leroy.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Smith." He stepped forward and planted a kiss on her left cheek. "That's an appreciative kiss for the wonderful meal and the nice company. You sent this mailman away happy for the remainder of the day. I just wish that everyone were as sweet as you."
She blushed deeply. "Goodbye. Have a pleasant day," she waved.
He kissed her, fully aware of what kind of effect it would have on her. He chuckled to himself as he walked away from the house. The poor bitch was probably go out of her mind with lust right about now. After all, her husband was the homeliest looking son-of-a-bitch he had ever laid eyes on. Leroy couldn't figure out how a beauty like that wound up with a wimp like him. Boy! Did he look like a loser.
Meanwhile, Beth couldn't get over the fact that the entire lower portion of her torso was aflame with lust. As she closed the door she reached between her thighs and stroked her vulva. "Oh wow!" she said breathlessly. "Why am I so sexually turned on this morning? I haven't been this aroused in ages. I better go take a shower to cool down."
Chapter Two
As Beth Stepped into the bathroom, she noticed that she was flushed all over! Her breasts, her shoulders, her cheeks. She knew that it wasn't just because of Leroy's kiss on her cheek, but rather because she had accidentally felt the immense size of his reproductive organ pulsing through the thin material of his pants. When she leaned forward it brushed against her leg, sending wicked thrills coursing throughout her body. Surely a man couldn't pack a sexual organ that large! No way. No how. It just wasn't possible. Men just didn't have such monstrosities dangling between their thighs. Only stallions were hung like that.
As she started to undo her terry cloth bathrobe, she began talking to herself. "Maybe Leroy does what some of those disco dancers from the seventies used to do. Maybe he sticks a big Polish sausage in the front of his pants so that he can impress all the girls. Yea, that's probably it. He obviously knows that women are a pushover for a man with a large penis."
She chuckled to herself. All the sex manuals said that size didn't matter, but she knew better. Women yearned for big cock as much as men yearned for tight cunt. The two were interrelated. Ying-yang. The Size-Doesn't-Matter theory was started by male authors who possessed tiny dicks and wanted to get in on the action.
As she removed her robe and displayed her flawless body to the mirror she wondered, "But how does Leroy keep the sausage in place? After all, he was wearing loose-fitting postman's pants, not loose-fitting jeans." She thought it over for a while and when she didn't reach a satisfactory conclusion she asked herself, "Surely he couldn't have an organ that large, could he?"
The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. The sausage felt so large she reasoned that he must use oodles of tape to keep it in place. But then, wouldn't gravity pull the tape off of the body so that it would dangle uselessly? And besides, how did he make it feel so lifelike? How did he make it so warm?
Her clear blue eyes opened wide as a new thought crossed her mind. "Wow! Maybe Leroy really does have a whopper between his legs! He's a negro and I've always heard that they're well-hung! Like donkeys!" She could feel her cheeks blush as she recalled a girlfriend once saying, "And they know how to use them, too."
Oh double wow!
For some reason she began to breathe more fitfully. Her breath was caught in the throat and her pulse was racing. It was as if a thousand butterflies had been released in her lungs and had taken flight simultaneously.
It would certainly be a rewarding experience to find out if Leroy's cock truly did measure up to the mythology revolving around black sexual prowess. And the more she thought about it, the more she wondered what it would be like to have a large penis buried in her pussy? What would it feel like? She had never experienced the thrill of a large shaft invading her secret chamber? She could at long last find out if size really didn't matter. And she had never experienced the thrill of having a darkly pigmented penis sliding into her. Maybe she could learn what interracial mating was all about.
"It's too bad that the sexual revolution is over," she said to herself. "I would have loved to have participated in one orgy."
She blushed the instant that she said it. Of course, she would never act out any sexual fantasies. She was just too much of a nice girl. Nice girls didn't do those sorts of things. Besides, she was one of those rare modern women who actually took her marriage vows seriously. She was so innocent, that before that very morning she had never contemplated having an extramarital affair. It was something she just didn't have time for. After all, she was too busy keeping her house in perfect order for her husband with the small prick. Oh well! That was the luck of the draw. She wound up with a hubby having a small dick and no technique. There wasn't anything she could do about it now. Maybe if she were reincarnated she would be married to a man nicknamed, "Donkey Kong."
She leaned forward and looked at herself in the mirror. She had to smile because she truly did present a picture of perfection. There was little doubt that she represented the American ideal of womanhood. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Tall, shapely figure. Perfect posture. Small perfect waist. Perfect! Perfect! Perfect!
She admired the way that she was aging gracefully. Her complexion was still that of a very young woman-smooth and healthful looking. Her blue eyes still shone like bright sapphires or unblemished ivory. Her teeth still sparkled and her gums were still bright and pink. Even her eyebrows were those of a beauty queen, never needing to be plucked nor colored. They were naturally arched and beautiful.
She puckered her lovely lips and blew a sensual kiss to the mirror. She was fortunate. She knew that she had a very erotic mouth. Even Herschel told her that, and he never gave complements about anything. It was slightly wider than normal, yet both lips were full. Of course, she didn't know that many men in town wondered what that mouth would look like wrapped around their cocks. Others went to sleep dreaming of those lips sucking on their scrotum.
She stuck out her tongue, moistened her lips, and continued looking at her reflection. She also had a sensual neck. It was almost swanlike in its elegance. Usually tall women had large necks, but not Beth. Hers belonged on a statue of Aphrodite or Venus. The same men who had fantasies about thrusting their penises between her lips, also had fantasies about shoving their dicks into the back of her throat. The men who fantasized about her sucking their balls, dreamed of emptying their semen into it.
Because she ate properly and exercised regularly, she had very little fat anywhere on her body. Her jaw line was straight and clean. Her tummy was flat and firm. Her thighs were sleek and smooth. No double chin. No love handles. No cellulite. These were the things that her mother taught her to avoid. By doing without junk food when she was a teenager, she had developed the body of a beautiful woman. Too many females turned into doughnuts in the process of munching them. Or came to resemble a Big Gulp from 7-11 by slurping away on forty-eight ounce drinks three times per day. Beth may have had a crazy bat for a mom, but the old lady knew her stuff when it came to diet and nutrition. Her daughter had turned into a smooth, sleek, womanly machine which was made for one thing: sex.
Of course, good genetics played a significant role in her appearance. Her mother even looked attractive when she was in her late seventies. Rumor had it that she got chased around the Roxbury Nursing Home by every horny old man in residence. And when she went to the spa, half the octogenarians in the place would tag along to watch her ass wiggle.
Beth blushed at the thoughts. Her father would resent her thinking such things about her mother. After all, her parents were devoted to each other in a way which was unique to the pre-Baby Boom generation. No fucking around before marriage, very little fucking around during the course of a marriage, and no wife-swapping-ever. If a man wanted to get his balls off with someone other than his wife, he could visit the Red Light district. But alas, something happened to America and Americans-and especially Baby Boomers-during the 1960's which was difficult to analyze. The country had undergone an unprecedented social revolution which had changed its attitudes, mores, and world outlook in ways which were still hard to fathom some twenty-five years later. But in a nutshell, the country-men and women alike-became intensely interested in matters of the pelvic region. Sex! Sex! Sex! Somewhere between the advent of The Pill in 1959 and the glorious days of the Summer of Love in 1967, the Pelvic Age was born and the Sexual Revolution swept across the consciousness of every class, race, and ethnic group in America.
Ah! To have been alive then, thought Beth. To have been allowed to freely screw around in the name of Consciousness Raising. To have had the opportunity to have participated in just one orgy. What would it have been like to wake up in the morning and not know how many men had used your body-at your request?
With that thought on her mind, Beth inhaled deeply and thrust out her lovely breasts. They were certainly some of her best features. They were perfectly symmetrical and stood out proud and firm from her upper torso. They were full and slightly up-tilted. Hence, when she looked in the mirror, the large strawberry-colored nipples resembled big pink eyes which seemed to be staring her right in the face.
She reached beneath her succulent breasts and ran her tiny palms along their underside. She was proud that her breasts had no sag whatsoever. They were like water balloons filled to capacity, straining against the confinement of her skin. The only woman she had ever met who had a pair as lovely was Cynthia. But then, many redheads had great knockers, whereas many blondes didn't.
She reached up and gently tweaked her nipple. Oooo! That felt good. She tweaked it again, and again, and again, each time enjoying the delicious and erotic sensation as it spread throughout her body.
When the nipples were hard little points, she smoothed her palms over them, massaging them, playing with them. She liked the way they dug into the flesh of her hand-sort of like little jelly beans. Ummmm, it felt very, very good.
She let her right hand drop down to the flat plain of her attractive little tummy. While she continued to caress her left breast with her left hand, she began rubbing her right hand in small circles on the smooth contours of her lower abdomen, occasionally stopping to dawdle at her belly button. She was inhaling more rapidly now as she occasionally let her right hand drop to the upper fringes of her pubic hair. She gently grazed it, afraid to touch it for too long.
She was as aroused as she could ever remember. Surely just talking to the mailman couldn't have done this to her libido. Maybe it was the fact that he was a large and handsome male. Tall men were always a turn-on, and tall black men were especially handsome. Maybe the thought of interracial sex had done it to her.
She laughed aloud and said, "How silly. Surely I couldn't be this turned on by the sight of black pigmentation. That's utterly ridiculous." She reached between her white thighs and ran her palm over her swollen mound of Venus. It was warmer than she ever remembered. She ran her hand upward and lightly touched her clitoris ...
"Oh my god!" she said aloud, nearly doubling over from the exquisite sensation coursing through her body. It was as if she had sent a lightning bolt to her soul. Her pubic area had never been so swollen with sexual heat and anticipation. She quickly removed her hand and looked down at her blonde triangle. She placed her hands on her buttocks and pushed her pelvis forward while arching her back.
Yep! She was aroused all right. Her pudendum was swollen with lust and pouting outward, and her inner lips had swollen to such an extent that they were puckering open and revealing her vagina. If a man were handy, he could easily plunge his organ into her at that very moment. She found the sight of her yearning pussy incredibly obscene and looked away. She didn't understand why some men bought pornographic magazines which had pictures of women's swollen genitalia. She thought that such photos belonged only in medical journals.
There was little doubt that she needed to quell her intense feelings of lust. She hurriedly reached into the shower and turned on the water. When the temperature was just right she stepped beneath the warm spray. However, far from curing her burning libido, the shower actually intensified it, causing her to yearn that much more for a man-a real man. A man with a whale of a large penis-not someone with a tadpole like her husband.
She loved the way the tiny jets of water splashed against her lush ripe titties. Mmmm! It felt good. The droplets massaged her breasts in a manner peculiar to water. It made her realize that the human body was perfectly in tune with the rhythms of nature. She arched her back and directed her breasts into the tiny jets. She wanted to know what it felt like to have two streams hitting against the very tips of her nipples.
Mmmmmm! It felt very very good.
She kept her back arched and rubbed her hands over her swollen breasts, trying to wrap her fingers around them. Naturally, it was a futile effort because they were so firm and large. She maneuvered her hands to the front of her breasts so that her fingers were now gently pulling on the nipples, attempting to milk them.
The longer that she played with her breasts, the hornier the rest of her body got. Not only were her titties swollen with passion, but her firm little tummy was fluttering in and out as well. She again felt between her thighs, stretching them apart slightly so that her hands could gain greater access to her private parts. She noticed that her vaginal mound was still swollen with lust. It almost felt as if it were crying out for attention, silently begging for a penis. Carefully, she ran a finger along the slit and checked her sexual lubrication in the same manner that an automobile mechanic might check the oil level.
Damn! She was moist down there in her secret chamber. And it wasn't water from the shower either. It was viscous vaginal secretion. She wished that her husband was around. She desperately needed a man-even someone as poorly endowed as Herschel! They could retreat to the bedroom and make love- if she could talk him into it. Boy, she could certainly use a six-minute lovemaking session with his small penis right about now.
She was so hot and horny, that she thought about putting on her bathrobe and running after Leroy. The thought of him coming back and knocking on her bathroom door entered her mind. What would she do if he did? Would it be possible for her to seduce a man other than her husband? Would it be possible to make love to a black man? What did he look like under all of those clothes, anyway? More importantly, what did his penis look like? How long was it? How big around was it? Was it as darkly colored as his body? Was it circumcised, or not?
She again blushed deeply. She couldn't believe the ribald direction of her thoughts. She was acting like an over sexed, over-eager schoolgirl. She rubbed her crotch once, twice, three times and said, "I don't think that schoolgirls have these kinds of nasty thoughts."
She reached over and grabbed the bar of soap from its tray. She began lathering herself."After she soaped her arms, she bent over and began lathering her long smooth legs. She rubbed the bar up and down on each shapely calf a dozen times, before she brought the bar upward to her long smooth thighs. She ran the bar from her kneecap to the outward swelling of her hip. Her legs were another great feature of her body. They were long, lean, and well-proportioned. Many men yearned to have them wrapped around their bodies at night.
She liked to keep them clean-shaven and smooth. Although she had very little hair on her body, she was especially careful to keep her skin looking its erotic best-and that meant little or no hair on her legs. She liked the way her body appeared with a coating of water and lather. For some reason, it seemed more erotic. Maybe a freshly washed body sent a signal to the brain which suggested that it was ready for foreplay and intercourse.
She slowly moved the bar up and down her thigh-first on the outside, then in front, then in back, and then to the sensual area in between.
She again began fantasizing. What would Leroy's penis look like if it were placed between her beautiful thighs? Mmmmm! What would a black shaft look like as it was about to enter her blonde nest? Mmmm! More importantly, what would it feel like?
For some reason which she didn't understand, she began to perspire. The sweat wasn't the result of the warm moist room either, but rather from an intense sexual arousal. Ohh! She wished that her husband was home! She would ask him to make love to her. She needed it badly.
She began to wonder what other women did when they got like this. How did they handle it when their husbands were away at work? Did they masturbate? Did they have an affair? Did they run away with a new man for a weekend? Did they swap husbands?
She couldn't believe the thoughts which were racing through her mind. It seemed as if her mind had sunk to the level of the sewer. She was actually thinking the word, "fuck". Glory be! That was a first.
She decided that the only option she, had available was masturbation. She had no other choice. She took the bar of soap and began rubbing it over her mound of Venus. When she had built up a nice little hillock of lather in her pubic hairs, she took the end of the bar of soap and placed it at the entrance of her cunt.
"Ohhh! I can't believe I'm doing this!" she moaned. "I've been married for ten years and this is the first time that I've had to resort to masturbation."
As those words were spoken, she began to push the rounded bar between her vaginal lips.
"Unnngghhh! Ohhhhhhh! That feels sooooo good!" she moaned as she contorted her body to the friendly invasion.
She began moving the bar back and forth, in and out, a quarter of an inch at a time, gently massaging her entire slit. She began fantasizing that the bar was black and long. She looked down and wished that it was attached to Leroy. In, out; in, out; in, out; she plunged the bar over and over again.
She bit her lower lip as she began to feel the first surge of sexual release emanating from the deep recesses of her cunt.
Suddenly she stopped. She quickly pulled the bar out of her nest and moved it up her body. She placed it in her hands and lathered them vigorously. She then placed the lather into her hair and began rubbing her scalp with desperate intensity. She was vigorously washing her scalp in an attempt to cleanse her mind of masturbation fantasies. Unfortunately, with her hands raised above her head, her titties were pointed directly at the spray, and the little water droplets were heightening her arousal that much more.
"Damn!" she said with alarm. "I've got to get out of this shower before I turn into a nympho."
She quickly rinsed her hair, turned off the shower, and began drying herself. And yet, her subconscious was in an extremely excited state of arousal. She couldn't shut it off. As she looked at a tube of toothpaste she saw a penis. As she looked at the underarm deodorant she thought of a dildo-a big green dildo. As she put some liquid soap on her hands she thought of thick viscous sperm dribbling out of her nest.
"Maybe it's something I ate for breakfast," she said to herself. "I've never been this turned-on before. Never." She was beginning to believe that she had turned into a vagina overnight.
Just as that thought was going through her mind she heard a voice call, ""Honey! Honey! I'm home."
She was somewhat startled when she first heard the voice. "Herschel! Is that you?" she shouted.
"Yes, honey. It's me. I'm home."
She hurriedly put on a bathrobe and wrapped a towel around her damp hair. She rushed out to the hallway and asked, "Herschel! What are doing home at this time of day? You're supposed to be at work."
"I want you to sit down," he said meekly, not looking at her. "I have something to tell you."
She was suddenly quite worried. Herschel, although a total wimp, was usually straightforward with his responses. She sat in the middle of the couch, and he sat immediately across from her in the easy chair.
"I don't know how to tell you this," he said with his head bowed, "but I've been laid off from my job."
She was quite relieved. "That's okay, honey. You'll find another job."
"Sweetheart, have you looked at the classified ads lately? There isn't any kind of job available anywhere that pays a decent wage-at least not for a man. For the short term, there's only one solution. You're going to have to find employment."
She looked at him, her blue eyes widening into large orbs. "But honey! I haven't worked since I graduated from high school! Where am I supposed to find employment? Doing what?"
He looked at her and smiled. "That's the good news. I've heard that you can get a job at the Kitty-Kat Club. They're hiring."
"The Kitty-Kat Club?" She had a confused look on her face. "What's that? I've never heard of it."
"It's a nightclub type of place over there in the black section of town. I've never been there, but I've heard that waitresses who work the night shift can make a small fortune in only a matter of a few weeks."
"I don't like the sound of this. Surely there must be something else that I can do."
"Would you just check into it for me please? It wouldn't hurt to check it out."
"Herschel, are you sure that you can't find a job?" she asked as if searching for a way out of working at a nightclub.
"I'm sure," he replied without hesitation.
Chapter Three
Nathan was the Owner and manager of the Kitty Kat Club. He'd been at it for over twenty years, and would likely remain in the place until he retired. He'd been around a long time and over the years he'd seen a lot of good looking women come through his office, but nothing like the blonde beauty who stood in front of his desk at that very moment. She was such a sensual masterpiece that he had a hard-on from the moment he saw her. He guessed her measurements to be 36-24-36. Everything about her was firm and shapely. Breasts. Waist. Buttocks. She was incurving and out-curving in the right places.
She had that rare combination of innocence and sensuality. In this sophisticated age, beautiful women usually knew they were good-looking thanks to the ads from Madison Avenue, the commercials on television, and the movies from Hollywood. If a woman was beautiful and didn't realize it in this day and age, she was either a moron or had the brains of a tortoise. As a result, good looking women adopted what they considered to be a chic, urban, and snotty attitude. They acted smug-as if saying, "Yea, I know I've got a golden cunt. Eat your heart out." In other words, they pretended that they lived in a Manhattan high rise-in the penthouse suite- even though they might actually live in an overpriced studio with leaking pipes.
But the doll standing before Nathan at that very moment looked as if she had been plucked from the middle of an Iowa cornfield in the middle of June. Her smile seemed real, not calculating. Her perfect posture was genuine, not a put-on. And certainly her body was real. There was little doubt that it was the work of superior genetics, not suburban plastic surgeons which led to those scintillating curves. She was one deliciously shapely morsel all right. Moreover, she had the face of an angel.
From the expression on her face it was obvious that she hadn't expected a large black man to be seated behind the manager's desk at the Kitty Kat Club. She had that look of surprise he frequently saw on white women's face when they noted his race.
"Yes. What can I do for you?" he asked with a serious tone as she stepped forward.
"I'm here to see about a job," she replied as she lowered her head and looked at her hand.
He was startled! She sounded halfway intelligent! He had expected her to have a Bronx accent. "A job?" he asked with curiosity. "I haven't placed any ads in the paper lately."
"I know you haven't," she said apologetically. "I just wanted to see if you had any openings. I need the money."
His eyebrows rose at that revealing remark.
Suddenly he was very interested in this young woman. "You know, come to think of it, we just might have an opening."
"Oh that would be wonderful if you do. I would be willing to go to work right away."
"You would, eh?" he said, more as a comment to himself rather than a question to her. He assessed her carefully and asked, "Have you ever been a waitress in a place like this before?" He let his eyes wander up and down her incredibly beautiful body, pausing at each delectable curve to survey as much of the scenery as possible. "Do you have any idea what takes place here at the Kitty Kat Club?"
"No. Not really," she replied, not really liking the overt visual inspection she was receiving, yet tolerating it because she and Herschel needed the money that the job would provide.
"Well, I guess that doesn't matter. We can always use someone as pretty as you," he said with a wicked smile, focusing his gaze at the place in the dress where the juncture of her thighs would be.
She returned the smile, feeling very uncomfortable in his presence. She was not sure what was going through his mind, and didn't really want to know. She had heard that certain men had very dirty minds-that they were always undressing women in their thoughts. They were always ready for sexual intercourse-anytime of the day or night. She had never met any man like that, but she suspected that Nathan was probably that type.
My goodness! she thought. He's looking at me as if he knows what I look like without panties!
To be quite honest, he was imagining much more than that. He was wondering what she would look like if she were spread-eagled, chained to the wall, and had a banana thrust up her cunt. And this mental image was mild in comparison to his gang-rape fantasy.
She worried that this man did not seem to be a friendly negro like Leroy. This man seemed more streetwise. He had an intensity about him which frightened her. He was the type that a beautiful blonde didn't want to meet in a dark alley. She shivered at the thought.
He leaned back in his leather chair and continued to survey the beautiful lass standing in front of him. Although he could hire her right on the spot, he decided to play a little game instead. He rocked back and forth a few times in his chair and said, "Hike up your dress."
She didn't know if she had heard correctly or not. "What?" she exclaimed in a mild state of shock. "What did you ... you ... say?"
"Hike up your dress. I want to see your legs. I don't want to hire a woman who has varicose veins and bow-legs."
She stood in silence for a moment, not knowing what to do. A thousand questions flashed through her mind. What if he wanted to see more than just her legs? What if he wanted to take a look at her thighs-and then her upper thighs-and then her crotch! Maybe she should call this whole thing off. Just as she was prepared to run screaming from the room she again remembered that she and Herschel desperately needed the money. She had no choice but to comply with the manager's request.
"C'mon! C'mon!" Nathan demanded. "I don't have all day! Get that dress up and let's see some leg."
He spoke with an air of authority. For some odd reason she liked that. It made the situation more bearable than if someone with a wimpy voice-like Herschel-had asked her to proceed. She closed her eyes, reached down, and did as Nathan requested. The hem rose by only fractions of a millimeter until she decided to get the interview over as quickly as possible and hoisted the hemline above her knees.
"Ah! That's better." He leaned forward on his elbows and looked closely at her legs. Wow! They were truly dynamite. This broad really did have a great body. Everything was long, lean, and sinewy. She was a perfect sex kitten and would fit in well at the Kitty Kat Club. "You've got very nice calves and knees," he said as if he were truly interested in her lowermost extremities. "However, I want to see your thighs," he commanded. "Hike the dress up higher. I want to see everything."
Beth's eyes reddened as a tear appeared in the corner of them. "Is this really necessary?" she asked softly.
He could see that she was on the verge of crying out loud. Thus, he explained, "Of course it's necessary. You're going to be wearing a Kitty Kat uniform. That means something. When you walk out there in that costume you'll be a walking advertisement for this place. When you wait on a customer he'll think, Aha! This place has class. I want to spend as much money as I possibly can in this joint, and I want to tip this beautiful broad more bucks than I've tipped any broad before."
Nathan continued, "I don't want to hire a woman who has dimpled masses of cellulite hanging out from all over her body. I don't want a customer to say, 'Ye gads! This joint hires ugly waitresses. I don't want to drink here.'"
Beth looked at the floor, ashamed to have questioned his obviously honorable motives. She was brought back to reality when she heard him say, "Now that I've explained things to you, let me see those thighs."
She gave in and lifted the dress up higher-until the hemline was even with the uppermost part of her thigh and she could feel the air of the room brushing against her smooth skin. She was silently cursing herself for being allowed to be talked into this type of situation. Who could have put such a ridiculous idea into her husband's head that the Kitty Kat Club was a great place to work?
Nathan leaned further over his desk. Holy shit! He would love to bury his black face between those gorgeous white legs. This chick had the best pair of gams he had seen on any woman in years. They were sleek and lean, long and shapely, all the way from her small delicately shaped ankles to the uppermost reaches of her thighs. They were the kind that every man-black and white-dreamed of. The calves stood out and the thighs were equally well-defined. They didn't have a blemish nor a scar on them anywhere. They were every bit as good looking as those on that chick named Cynthia. Mmm! He got to wondering what this particular pair might look like wrapped around a black torso- specifically, his.
He scratched his chin and said, "Lift the dress a little bit higher. I want to see more." He knew that he was crossing onto thin ice with this request. Legal problems could arise if word of this "interview" got out. Worse yet, the radical feminists might come after him with a hatchet as they had once threatened. Of course, he really didn't have anything to worry about city police. Most of the Vice Squad regularly visited his establishment and half of them had been paid off with substantial bribes.
Beth couldn't believe what Nathan was asking of her. Hell! If she lifted the dress any higher, the bottommost part of her panties would be showing. Even though she didn't want to do what he requested-she did. That commanding voice sent shivers down her spine and made her obey.
As the panties came into view, the manager couldn't help smacking his lips at the sight in front of him. Ohhh! She had a great looking body. This woman was a walking, talking, advertisement for sex-every position-any time of the night or day. She had the kind of pussy that pouted outward slightly, stretching the thin material of her panties. It appeared to be a little pouch located right there in the middle of her pelvis. Mmmm! He wondered how many dicks had plunged into that pleasure cavern. A good looking dame like this could have had thirty or forty lovers easily. If she worked it right, she could have fucked four or five times per day.
Unlike a lot of women, her legs did not come together immediately below the pussy. Instead, there was a slight space-the kind which was usually found on smaller women. If a man wanted, he could place his hand below her mound without touching the flesh of her thigh. This anomaly meant that the female was in terrific physical shape and would remain so for a considerable length of time. Oh yea! A broad like this would be fuckable for another twenty years-if she didn't let herself go to pot by munching on cupcakes and Danish muffins.
She seemed to be waiting for his appraisal, but he was in no hurry. Contrary to his earlier statement saying that he had many things to do, he didn't. The accountant did his bookkeeping, a lawyer handled any legal problems, and Wanda handled any personnel problems with the girls. In truth, the only thing that he had to do for the remainder of the afternoon was fuck with Beth-which he would hopefully be doing very soon.
It was so nice to have her stand in front of him hoisting up her dress like that. What a feeling of power it gave him. He now knew what it meant to be one of those Hollywood moguls back in the 1920's or thirties. To have all of that choice white pussy, coming from all over the continent, willing to do anything to get into motion pictures. Ahhh! He would have loved to have been one of those guys. He bet that every hayseed who walked in off the street looked as good as this dish. No wonder the Casting Couch was invented.
"Can I put my dress back down?" she asked with a slight pleading tone in her voice.
He heard the trembling tone and saw the slight nervousness she displayed. For some reason, that sight made him that much more aroused. For a brief flickering instant he yearned for the return of slavery-at least for beautiful white women. Power was an aphrodisiac. Power was erotic. Power was a hard-on.
He decided to play this game to it farthest limits. After all, he was already wallowing in shadowy legal territory. "Not quite yet. Turn around. I want to glance at your backside."
She rolled her eyes heavenward as if silently asking for divine intervention from the Goddess of Pussy Protection, but she did as he instructed anyway. She didn't know if she liked the idea of being surveyed as if she were a piece of meat. And that's exactly what she felt like! She suddenly had a tremendous amount of empathy with female beauty contestants. The poor girls had to put up with this all the time. And now she had another worry: What would the manager ask her to do next? Lower her panties!
Nathan truly enjoyed viewing Beth from the rear. Her legs were that much mote magnificent from a rear perspective. And he had the added freedom of being able to stroke his crotch and lick his lips while he looked at her delicious body. Ummm! What he would give to have her squat down and sit on his erection. Oh yea. That would really be nice.
He realized that he couldn't ask her to stand there for the rest of the afternoon, but he wondered if maybe he could get her to do one more thing. He inhaled deeply and said, "You look fine from the rear, but I want you to lower your panties."
"What!" she screamed as she looked over her shoulder in wide-eyed horror. "I can't do that! Please don't make me do that."
"C'mon! C'mon! Lower your panties," he said without compassion. "I've got to check out your ass. I can't tell a damn thing about it unless I see it."
"What the hell difference does it matter what my ass looks like!" she screamed. She was surprised at the anger in her voice. To lose control was very much unlike her. She prided herself on remaining composed during all situations.
"It matters plenty to the customers here at the Kitty Kat Club," Nathan said with a steady level tone, realizing that he may have reached the limits of his little game. "The men who come in here can't stand women who have fat asses. If I hired fat butts, I'd be out of business in only a matter of weeks. Now drop those drawers, damn it! If I'm going to pay you to show your body to my customers, I'm going to make damned sure that I don't put anything ugly or artificial in a Kitty Kat costume. I have a good solid business reputation to maintain."
"I swear, this is enough to turn a woman into a feminist," she said, barely holding her tongue while turning beet red from anger and embarrassment. "My husband doesn't even see me like this."
Too bad, thought Nathan. Any man married to a woman as beautiful as this who doesn't take advantage of every situation deserves to wind-up as a retread virgin wearing a chastity belt.
She reached behind her and stuck her fingers into the elastic of her panties before lowering them. She didn't understand why she was doing this. It seemed as if another person had taken control of her mind and was acting out this terrible scene. She tried to disassociate herself from events. She decided that she would simply act out the scene and not worry about the consequences. As she got the panties down to her knees she asked, "There! How's that?"
When the panties were down around her knees, Nathan again smacked his lips. Mmmph! What a magnificent ass. And in this position it was displayed for maximum benefit. Oh yea. This woman would really be a good lay. He didn't tell her how pleased he was with her appearance because he still wanted to stretch the game to its ultimate limit. "Er ... you look pretty good, but bend over a slight bit."
"Why?" she demanded.
"Because occasionally you'll drop a receipt or a napkin on the floor and you'll be asked to pick it up. Men will look at your ass and they will want to be pleased at what they see. Now, I'm asking you for the last time to cooperate. Do as I say."
The argument made sense and his voice again had the ring of authority, so she did as requested. She looked at the clock and noticed the time. She would do anything to hurry this interview along.
He gazed at her posterior as if it were the Hope diamond. The assflesh was smooth, well-rounded, and glowed with a healthy sheen. There was no sign of fat whatsoever. It was the kind of ass which should be sculpted by an artist and put on display in a museum. It was the kind that men wanted to kiss with their lips and lick with their tongues. No dimples. No wrinkles. No blemishes. It was the derriere of a fully mature woman, who apparently didn't know how to use it.
He leaned back in his chair and looked at it for several minutes. He wished that he had the power to make her stay in one position for an entire day. He would simply spend his time gazing at it and admiring it. A lot of women had good looking asses, but only a rare few had ones which were truly remarkable.
"Well, do I pass the inspection?" she asked, still bending over and thrusting her ass outward.
"Well, I'm still not sure," he said teasingly. "Bend forward just a little bit more so that I can see your entire pubis."
This was the ultimate insult. A tear rolled down her rosy cheek and fell to the carpeted floor. Surely the manager must know how exposed and vulnerable a woman felt in this particular position. It was degrading. It was vulgar. It was obscene. It was all her husband's fault for getting her into this situation. If he would have sold more goods at his place of employment she wouldn't need to present her pussy like a common slut. She sniffled twice and asked, "How about now? Do I pass?"
Nathan was gazing at the most beautiful pussy he had ever laid eyes on. Her pubic hair was nearly the same color as that atop her head, but more amazingly, it had the same lustrous sheen. He had never seen a pubic patch which seemed so soft. He wanted to reach out and gently stroke it, but he refrained because that would be pushing the limits of this game far beyond the acceptable boundaries. Running right through the center of her Mound of Venus was a perfectly aligned slit. It was quite apparent that she had never fucked around a great deal, otherwise it would show the tell-tale signs of being repeatedly reamed.
She was bending over so far that he could see her entire pudendum-everything from her hooded pink clitoris to her puckered pink asshole. He was delighted to see that she kept herself remarkably clean. That was one of the advantages of hiring suburban white women-they always looked as if they were ready for sex. And they usually were!
"Oh yea. You pass all right. You're hired." He had trouble speaking because he had such a tremendous hard-on. It bulged out from the front of his pants, tenting the material, making it uncomfortable to stand.
Beth quickly stood, pulled her panties back in place, and let her dress fall back below her knees. She turned around to face the manager and asked, "When do I start?"
"We have an opening for you tonight," he said as he tried to make himself comfortable. "That is, if you'd like to start that soon."
"Yes. I think so. The sooner I get into the swing of this place the better off I'll be."
"That's the right attitude," he said with a smile. "I think you'll like it here at the Kitty Kat Club. You'll meet lots of new friends."
As she rearranged her dress and made herself presentable she asked, "By the way, what's the starting salary?"
"Minimum wage," he said without emotion.
Beth blinked several times and then looked at him. When she realized what he had said, her mouth dropped open and she gasped, "You ... you've got to be kidding me."
He looked at her levelly and repeated, "No. It's the minimum wage. That's what I pay all the waitresses regardless of how long they've been on the job."
"I thought that this was a good place to work," she said in an extremely angry voice.
"It is," he replied with a wry smile.
"How can you say that when you only pay the minimum? I could have gone to work as a clerk at J. C. Penney's ... and ... and ... I wouldn't have had to display my pussy!"
Nathan leaned forward, looked her in the eyes, and said, "I may pay the minimum, but the girls collect a hell of a lot of tips. Some of them can pull in sixty to seventy bucks and hour if they play their cards right. I've got no restrictions on how much they make, nor on how they make it. It's totally up to them. I own the club, I run the club, but the girls who work here never complain about the money. They know it's a good deal. They like it. It's as simple as that. If you only want to make the minimum wage, you can just sit on your lovely ass and cross your beautiful legs and do nothing. But if you really want to make the bucks, you can get out there and hustle. It's very much like a straight commission job, except that I pay you. a base salary, and I offer you health insurance, medical benefits, and a dental plan. Take it, or leave it, babe."
"Oh! I didn't know that," she said almost apologetically, regretting that she had gotten angry and raised her voice.
"You didn't ask," he replied. "Besides, I don't want any of my beauties to be harmed or to come down with an illness. I'm here to protect you. Remember that," he said with a lecherous grin.
"I'll remember that," she said with as sneer as she turned and walked out the door.
Chapter Four
Leroy made his way to the 1200 block of Adams Street, hurrying to deliver the mail as rapidly as possible. Ah yes! In only a matter of moments he would be plunging his monstrous black dick into the tight succulent red-haired snatch of Cynthia Jones. Mmm! What a way to begin the week. A hard cock in a hot pussy. What more could a mailman want. Orgies next to the mailbox? Hookers in the mail truck?
At long last he came to the small but well-kept house. He looked around to make sure that no one was following and that Mr. Jones wasn't around. Once he determined that the coast was clear, he dashed up the stairs. He knocked three times and then scratched twice, as a "cat might do. That was his secret signal.
Seconds later Cynthia opened the front door and said, "Hurry up and get inside. I'm burning up. I need you badly."
"Is it me you want, or my big black dick?" he asked as he rubbed his crotch with the palm of his hand.
"Don't mince words with me, you black stallion," she said as she opened her red silk gown to reveal the second best set of knockers in town. "I need a dick. Just whip it out and plunge it in."
He set down the mail bag and turned to look at her. She was a real beauty all right. Even though he preferred innocent looking blondes, Cynthia was a gorgeous lady in her own right. She stood about the same height as Beth and her breasts were similar, but her hair hung a little bit longer and her hips were slightly wider. They were the kind which were meant for child bearing. That's not to say that they were too wide. Far from it. She just wasn't as symmetrically proportioned as the luscious blonde. However, she was every bit as seductive and shapely. When she walked she still induced a erection on the most puritanical man.
"What took you so long in getting here?" she asked with a wanton smile on her face as she tossed the silk robe aside. "Momma's been yearning for you for over twenty minutes. You shouldn't keep momma waitin', daddy," she said as she went into her routine of massaging the underside of her breasts and running her hands up and down her body. She knew that she turned Leroy on. He was a visual man.
She stepped forward and reached between his muscular thighs and began massaging his already erect organ, keeping it firmly in place.
He reached down and placed his hand atop hers. "By any chance do you know Beth Smith?" he asked as he held her hand.
Cynthia reached for the fly and began to unzip it. "I sure do. We've known each other for years. She's one of my best friends. Don't tell me that you fucked her before coming over to see me," she laughed. "That would be a very naughty thing to do. I'll have to check for her telltale blonde pubic hairs in your crotch."
"No, I didn't fuck her," he chuckled as he felt her hands on his organ. "I just want to know a little about her."
Cynthia didn't reply. She was too fascinated with extracting his upright appendage from the confines of his pants. "There it is!" she laughed as it plopped free. She quickly got down on her knees. "Oh my! Look at how big you are this morning. You're all swollen with passion, little honey. Here, let momma kiss it-to relieve the pain."
In only a matter of seconds she leaned forward and stuck out her pink tongue. She flicked the tip of it against the shiny head of his huge black shaft, being especially careful not to hurt the extremely sensitive area. "Now go on. Tell me what you wanted to know about Beth," she said as she soothingly ran her tongue in circles around the head his manhood, occasionally dipping her tongue into the little pee hole.
He looked down and watched her move her tongue up and down the outside of his penis. He had to admit that this woman was not inhibited when it came to matters of sex- interracial or otherwise. She was nibbling away on that fleshy organ of his as if it were a savory lollipop. From the first day that he stepped on her front doorstep, she seemed ready and eager for his black cock. He had only been on this particular job for a few days when he was invited into her bedroom for some afternoon delight. He could still remember how shocked he was to learn that this white woman hungered desperately for black cock.
He lowered his hands and ran them through her luxuriant red hair. He intertwined his fingers in the long strands. He manually massaged her scalp as she orally massaged his penis. Oh! No one gave head better than her. A lot of white girls were good, but she was the best. She made sure to keep her lips or her tongue on the organ at all times. As a result, she was always sucking, licking, or blowing.
He took a deep breath and said, "Anyway, Beth Smith is a great looking woman. She invited me in this morning to finish her husband's breakfast because he had to rush off for work."
Cynthia quit flicking her tongue, smiled, and looked up at him. "Did she invite you into her bedroom like I did?"
"No. I don't think she's that wanton."
She encircled the tip of his organ with her mouth, bit the tip of his cock lightly, and said, "I'll show you wanton, mister." She quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled his postman's trousers down to his knees. She then grabbed hold of his cock with both hands and began sucking vigorously. She acted as if she were starving for semen. But he knew that couldn't be the case because she had just had a syrupy serving a couple of days beforehand.
He watched the manicured white hands with their red nail polish lovingly encircle the base of his cock while her lips encircled the tip. "Are you hungry for cock or something?" he asked, laughing.
"Mmph! Mmph! Mmph!" she replied, bobbing her head up and down rhythmically as if driven by some hidden passion.
"I'd like to see Mrs. Smith do what you're doing," he said with a smile.
Cynthia removed the lips from the cock and said, "To tell you the truth, I don't think that she has a very happy sex life."
"Why do you say that?" he asked with concern.
"Just look at the moron she's married to. I mean, the guy's a fucking wimp from the word go. I don't even think that he knows where a penis goes much less how to use one."
"He may look like a dipshit, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to fuck. A lot of black fellows look equally lost, but they know how to make women happy."
"Fucking is a natural with black males. Believe me. I've been with enough of them to know their instinctive qualities. I think that they were born with springs in their backs which activate whenever they're in a bedroom with a white woman. Even if they don't have a big dick, they know how to use what they were born with. They might have only a couple of inches sticking out, but they can make that stub seem like a battering ram."
He reached down and patted the top of her head. "Have you really been with that many darkies?"
She nodded her head and replied, "Before I met Fred, I used to love to attend jazz concerts. That's one of the best places to meet black males on the make ... "
"And vice versa," Leroy interrupted.
She teasingly pinched his massive penis with her forefingers and said, "A white girl has to go somewhere to find quality stud meat. Anyway, I got to know quite a few black men, and the one thing I found out about them is that they all know how to fuck-some better than others I admit. But compared to their white counterparts they take sexual matters much more seriously. They seem to understand the importance of a satisfying a woman sexually, or at least, that's been my experience. Maybe they learned it on the plantations when they were kept as studs, passing their talents down from one generation to another."
"That a racist thing to say."
"What! Because I give black males a complement for being better lovers! C'mon! That makes no sense."
"You're saying that we're well-bred to be well-hung."
"I'm just theorizing. I simply know that black men are better in the sack than white ones."
"Maybe what Beth needs is a little bit of black meat," said Leroy with a lecherous grin.
"I bet she was thinking the very same thing this morning while sitting across the table from you. The poor girl probably couldn't keep her thighs together."
"Now that you mention, she did seem to be especially aroused in my presence." He paused for a moment and looked down at Cynthia's lovely face. "Speaking of keeping the thighs together-I suggest that we hop into bed quickly. I have mail to deliver, you know."
She stood up, grabbed him by his immense cock, and said, "Follow me to the boudoir, my man."
One thing he loved about this woman was that she was a sexual tigress and she talked like a San Diego hooker. She was more open about sexual matters than anyone he had ever seen. Ever. And that took into account a tremendous number of women.
She rolled back the covers on the bed, crawled onto it, and then laid back on the pillows. "I bet you'd like to see Mrs. Smith like this, wouldn't you?"
"I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it may incriminate me."
"You're already incriminated," she said with a smile. "I saw your dick twitch when I mentioned her name. Well, before that little fella of yours takes a trip up Mrs. Smith's snatch, it has a little business to take care of with me. Come here fella," she said as if talking to it. "Would you like to snuggle a little while inside of momma?" She folded her knees and spread her legs. When she was obscenely splayed, she reached between her thighs and spread the lips of her cunt so that he could see her entire hole.
"Now that looks good enough to eat," Leroy said.
She smiled broadly, as she watched him kick off his trousers and crawl onto the bed. His organ was about ten inches long and throbbing maddeningly. She wanted to suck on it while he went down on her, but he was already lapping at her vitals before she got a chance to ask him to position himself for sixty-nine.
He paused to look at the beautiful snatch immediately before him. Some redheads had splendid looking pussies. Such was the case with her. It had all the earmarks of a Genuine Grade First Class Snatch.
"Ahhh!" she moaned as she felt his tongue probe at her inner folds, wiggling back and forth. "Oh damn! That feels great!" she said as she arched her back and stared at the ceiling. "Ummmm! I wish that my husband would do this. Ungh! It's so damn good."
Between licks Leroy asked, "You mean to tell me that your hubby has a sweet young thing like you and he never does this?"
"Ungh!" she moaned as she rolled her pelvis against his face. "It's crazy isn't it, but it's true."
"I hope that he has the sense at least to fuck you regularly. It would be a shame to leave a body like this craving cock."
"Ohhh! Ummm!" she sighed as she lowered her lower torso, twisting it one way and then the other. "Oh! He takes care of me all right, but it's nothing like you."
"When was the last time you two made love?" he asked between slurps.
"That's a highly personal question," she said with a sigh.
He laughed. "I don't think we could be more personal than we are presently." He stuck his index finger into her gapping vagina to drive home the point.
She caught the gist of his humor and laughed along with him. "Fred and I did it just this morning, right here in this bed."
Leroy chuckled wickedly. There was something perversely enjoyable about fucking another man's wife in their bed. He got up from between her thighs, licking a trail all the way up her magnificent torso.
"Do you still remember what it was like this morning?" he asked as he planted a kiss on her left breast, then her right.
"Of course. I couldn't forget something like that. I have a photographic memory when it comes to sex."
"Good. I want you to make a comparison. I want to pass the test as your best lover."
She giggled. That's a very naughty thing to do."
"It may be naughty, but it turns me on. Now spread those thighs wide and let's compare my technique with that of your hubby."
She did as requested, and lovingly wrapped her arms around his upper torso. "Well, the first thing you ought to know, lover boy, is that you're a lot larger than Fred."
"I know I'm bigger where it counts, but do you mean everywhere else?"
"You better believe it. Your arms by themselves are bigger than his thighs." She lifted her calves and wrapped them around his buttocks. If he began pummeling her, she wanted to be ready to urge him on with little kicks of her own.
Leroy grabbed hold of his penis and aimed it at her widely splayed cunt. One of the things he liked most about this woman was that her hole was always easy to find. She made sure that the pink of her pussy was visible to anyone who might be interested in sampling a little bit of it.
"Umph!" she grunted as she felt the head of his immense cock wedge itself into her cuntal core. "Umph! Umph!" she grunted again and again. "Ahhh!" she moaned. "The first thing I've got to say is that your dick is three times the size of my husband's." She seemed to be having some difficulty breathing as the black battering ram nestled its way home. "Huh! Huh! Huh! Maybe four times."
She held onto him tightly. Her fingers clung to his shoulders, like the talons of an eagle to a freshly caught trout. "Ah shit! Ah shit! Ah shit!" she said through gritted teeth. "And I'd have to say that the girth of your dick is several times that of my husband's. Oh shit! Oh shit!" she grunted again as the cock wedged it's way upward into her womb like a snake burrowing into a hole.
Oh! She needed this. Oh how she missed his dick for the past couple of days. She spread her thighs as wide as possible to welcome him home. She wanted to make sure that he understood her carnal desires.
When he was all the way up to her cervix he asked, "Has he ever penetrated you this far?"
"No man has ever touched my cervix with his dick on the initial entry. Only you, my dear sweet man," she said with a smile as she rocked her pelvis back and forth.
Leroy decided to heighten the sensuality of the moment by asking, "Why don't you look down between your thighs and tell me what you see?"
She tilted her head to one side and examined their locked pelvises. "I see a black dick wedged in my cunt," she said with a smile.
"No, not really," he replied.
"Oh!" she said with confusion as she again looked at their joined pelvises. Since she couldn't figure out what he wanted her to say she asked, "Then tell me what you see, smarty."
"I see the mailman's big black dick wedged in the lovely tight pussy of a white woman. And the husband is away at work not knowing what the shit is going on."
She smiled. "You're right. That's exactly what I see too. I was silly not to have phrased my reply in those exact same words. Shall we fuck up a storm on my husband's bed?"
"I couldn't have said it better myself," he replied as he began thrusting in and out of her "Mmmm! You're very well lubricated today," he said as he rocked his pelvis back and forth effortlessly.
"It's because I've been thinking of you all morning," she replied. "Damn that Beth Smith anyway. She slowed you down on your route. Naughty girl."
"That's right. She is a naughty girl. You should get her over here some afternoon and I'll teach her a lesson."
"Maybe we should tie her up to the bed and tickle her with a feather."
"I'd like to tickle her with a feather and my dick," Leroy laughed.
"And to tell you myself, I wouldn't mind sampling some of that snatch myself."
"Are you going lezzy on me?"
"Hardly. She's such a pretty thing that I find it hard to keep my hands off of her myself."
"And your mouth too?"
"You know it."
With that, Leroy began thrusting more deeply into Cynthia's body. He began moving in and out of her in a frenzied pace.
"Ummmm!" she moaned. "Just a little deeper, darling. Umm! There! That's it! Just like that. Keep that up."
He loved to look at her while he fucked her. She had such a sweet angelic expression on her face. It was hard to believe that such an angel-like face could utter so many four letter words with such desperate urgency. But that was the way many white girls were. Once they got a taste of black cock, they abandoned their phony propriety in favor of gutter language. Several months ago he balled a minister's wife. It was so interesting to hear her shout "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" at the top of her lungs as he rammed it into her in the back pew. She didn't know it but he taped the proceedings on his little cassette recorder. Whenever he felt horny he played it back and listened to her delirious pleas for sexual release.
Yea, there was nothing he liked better than savory white pussy. They knew how to keep the pelvic region clean. That wasn't to say that black women didn't know, it was just that so many of them were poor that they didn't have access to expensive fragrant douches. Of course, this wasn't to say that the black women of the upper middle class didn't purchase them. It's just that as a mailman in this particular section of town he never got the chance to meet them. Too bad. He would have loved to have balled a few for variety. After all, everyone knew that black women were just as good in the sack-if not better-than white women.
While he was busy thinking, Cynthia reached down between their bodies and began fondling his testicles. No matter how many times she felt them she was always amazed by their immense size. His were the size of tennis balls. Fred's were mere pecans by comparison. Mmmm! She loved big testes. The bigger they were the better the blast of sperm. That's what her mother had taught her, and that's what she had found out to be true over the years. Big balls meant that a man knew how to use his pecker to complete satisfaction. The bigger they were, the more impressive they were to a woman.
"Unnngh!" she grunted as she felt the penis push against her cervix several more times, rapidly in succession. Oh! It was a glorious feeling. If her husband had a cock as large as this she wouldn't get out of bed for anything. Shit! She'd stay in bed all day and keep her legs spread 180 degrees wide apart. Oh yea! That would be the perfect existence. Sex in the morning, sex in the evening, sex at dinner time. Luscious fillings of monstrous cock-twenty-four hours per day-anytime she wanted it; anyway she wanted it.
She gently squeezed his testicles and asked, "Are you about ready to cum, darling? I am."
"Oh yea!" he replied breathlessly. "Just tell me when you want to be splashed. I'm ready to release anytime you say. Just give the word and it's all yours."
"Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!" she said breathlessly as she lovingly rotated her pelvis back and forth. "Please now! I need it now."
"Your wish is my command, little lady. Your dreams are fulfilled." He shoved his long black cock into her beautiful white body as far as it would go. He rammed it home with such force that her titties shook like overturned bowls of gelatin. He lay there and let the tenseness overwhelm him. He could feel the sperm boiling-yearning to be released.
His penis twitched once, twice, three times, until he felt the little sperm cells pour from his black sac, up his long and powerful penis, into her succulent sucking womb.
"Ohhhh!" she moaned as she felt gobs of sperm splash inside of her, soaking her love channel with a warm, viscous liquid. "Oh that's good! That's really good," she said with an orgasmic sigh while continuing to rock her pelvis lewdly, so that she could feel the warm semen sloshing around inside of her.
She continued to enjoy the sensation of having just been thoroughly fucked when she heard the front door of her house open.
"Honey! I'm home!" called the familiar voice of her husband.
"Holy shit!" she whispered loudly, looking up at Leroy with eyes as wide as saucers. "You've got to get the fuck out of here. If Fred sees you, he'll kill you. He hates blacks."
"But I ain't finished fucking yet," said Leroy with a lecherous smile.
"Quick! Quick! Pull your penis out of me! You've got to run! Hurry! I don't to see him shoot your dick off. It's too precious of an item. Now hurry."
Leroy knew it was time to leave when he heard footsteps on the stairway and a voice calling from just outside the bedroom door saying, "Honey! I'm home. Are your here?"
He hurried pulled his twelve inch shaft out of the white woman's snatch, causing the sound of a loud "Pop" to echo across the room. A trail of milky white semen trickled down her thighs and onto the bedspread.
"You don't have time to run," Cynthia advised. "Hide in the closet. Now."
He did as he was told. Although he knew he could beat the shit out of the white husband, he was no match for a bullet. He quickly dashed into the closet, taking his clothes with him.
Fred opened the bedroom door and saw his wife spread out obscenely in the middle of the bed.
"My goodness! What are you doing home?" she asked with shocked surprise, turning to her side, trying to hide her pussy from view.
He looked at his beautiful wife and licked his lips. "I guess you heard about us being laid off today, huh? That's why you wanted to give me a little surprise greeting in the bed, eh? Well, I could certainly use a little fuck to relieve the tension."
He quickly removed his coat and tie while she tried to wipe up Leroy's semen with the corner of her bathrobe. Unfortunately, there was so much of the milky substance that her robe was becoming thoroughly soaked.
"I must say, honey, that you are a sight for sore eyes. You really do know how to take care of your man," he commented as he tossed the last vestiges of his clothing into a pile. "I think we're going to fuck away for a while, don't you, honey?"
He leaped on the bed and positioned himself between her widespread thighs. "Ahhh! This is a beautiful gash!"
"Thank you," she said nervously, looking to make certain that Leroy was secure in the closet.
He was secure all right. At that very moment he was peeking out through a small crack in the door and watching the action on the bed. He saw that in no time at all, Fred had his tool in her and was plugging away. She wasn't responding as she had with Leroy, primarily because Leroy had an organ the size of a baseball bat. She had orgasms all right, but they weren't the intense earth-shaking, heart-stopping, super-duper ones that Leroy gave her. No way.
"Oh! You feel so good, darling," she sighed, unable to believe that a man would stick his dick in another man's sperm. Of course, it really wasn't Freddie's fault. He didn't know that Leroy had just withdrawn his penis from her vagina some three minutes beforehand. Yet, there was little doubt that it was a sloppy mess inside of her love chamber. Leroy's sperm cells were being worked into a cheese.
Leroy watched in fascination. My word, he thought. The woman must be a slut. How can she fuck me and then fuck him within five minutes? Oh man! She didn't even douche! And this is the age of AIDS and herpes! No wonder the damn disease is spreading like wildfire.
Leroy reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. There he found a rubber and removed it. He opened the closet door slightly and tossed the prophylactic onto the bed just to the side of Cynthia's rhythmically bouncing hips.
She saw something arc across the room and land beside her. She looked down and recognized what it was. She couldn't believe Leroy's audacity. She nearly had a heart attack right underneath her husband's thrusting body. Even though she completely understood the underlying meaning she didn't think it was a very tasteful thing to do. She discreetly tried to push it aside, but Fred saw that she was doing something with her hand.
"What's that, honey?" he asked innocently as he pummeled away without breaking his stride.
"Er ... um ... er ... ah!"
He got up on his elbows and reached for the rubber while he continued his pace. When he saw what it was he slowed a little, but kept a steady rhythm going. "Well, I'll be damned!" he asked. "Where did you get this?"
"Er ... um ... er ... ah!"
"What a sweet thought," he said with a smile as he resumed his tempo. "I've heard about women buying rubbers for men. That's downright nice of you, honey. But really, you don't have to."
"Er ... um ... er ... ah!"
"And besides, you don't even know my size," he said as he looked more closely at the package. "Hell! I'm no extra-extra large. I'm only a medium. Shit! This thing belongs on a nigger."
Leroy would have been angry at the use of that word, but he'd already gotten his rocks off in the white man's wife, so he let it slide. After all, the racist was currently bathing his medium-sized penis in an ounce of nigger sperm. If Fred knew that he'd die on the spot.
Fred continued rocking away on his wife's pelvis until she came. "Ah!" he said. "So good. So good."
"Can you get off of me now, honey? I want to go into the bathroom now and wash up."
"No need of that, lover doll," said Fred with a broad smile. "We can go a few more times before lunch."
"No, darling. I really want to go and clean myself up," she replied, trying to get up from underneath him.
"Golly! You're sopping wet down there!" he exclaimed. "I must have really shot a load into you, eh? Hell! I may need that extra-extra large rubber after all just to retain all the sperm I'm producing these days."
"You sure might, honey," she replied, trying very hard to keep a straight face. "Now let me up. I want to use the John."
She got up and walked away from the bed, not wanting to look at the huge puddle of sperm located right in the middle of the sheets. As she got into the bathroom gobs of sperm started running out of her vagina. She quickly clamped her legs together and held her pussy with her hand in an attempt to stem the flow. She cautiously made it to the bathroom, taking very small steps the whole way. When she was at the door she saw Fred pick up his trousers and head down the hall. "Where are you going?" she asked.
"I want to go down and check the car. I'm gonna need it for the next several days to look for part-time employment."
"Okay, honey. Take care of yourself." She saw Leroy open the closet door and look out. He smiled broadly as he tip-toed softly over to the bathroom. "You're gonna have to get out of here," she whispered with urgency.
"Not before I have one more quickie," he replied.
"For god sakes! Let me douche at least. My cunt feels like the Okeefenokee swamp in the middle of the rainy season."
"It's a bit sticky down there, eh?"
"To say the least. I mean, I didn't expect to have two men hose me out with sperm before lunchtime-and that's not including the fact that Fred had fucked me this morning-and I hadn't douched then either."
A frown appeared on Leroy's face. Oh shit! Fred had had the last laugh. Leroy had been fucking in Fred's sperm, just as Fred had been fucking in his. Suddenly the thought of a quickie no longer appealed to him. Now the mail route seemed more attractive. "Uh ... you go ahead and douche yourself. I think I'll be on my way."
"Are you sure?" she asked, as she stuck the douche between her luscious thighs and began to squeeze the balloon, shooting jets of warm water up into her snug little nest. "I can be ready in only a matter of a few minutes. I'd like to be fucked by you again."
"Save that passion for a couple of days from now. Right now I've got to go out and deliver the mail."
"Well, if you're sure," she said with a pout. "After all, Fred is in the garage, you know."
He simply winked at her as he walked out the door. This would be one day he would never forget.
Chapter Five
Beth arrived at the Kitty Kat Club at the precise time that the manager, Nathan, had requested. She had never frequented the club before and was surprised at its size. "My word!" she said aloud to herself as she walked across the plush carpeting. "This place is enormous. They must do a hell of a lot of business."
"That we do, sweetie," said a short matronly woman who was standing several feet away.
"Oh! Excuse me," Beth said with a startled tone of voice, turning around quickly to look at her. "I'm new here. I'm looking for the dressing room. I'm afraid that I don't know where it is."
"Is your name Beth Smith?" asked the small woman, carefully examining the features of the tall blonde woman.
"Yes it is," Beth replied with her kindest smile. "I'm supposed to be fitted for a costume this afternoon."
"Very well. My name is Wanda. I guess you might say that I'm the unofficial Dean of Women around this place. I've been here ever since the place opened."
"You must like it here."
Wanda looked at her and smiled. "Yes, I guess you could say that. At least, I've never complained. The hours are good, the money's good, and the benefits are good. When you got those three factors in your favor, you've got everything."
Beth thought about what Wanda had said and nodded in agreement. The woman had a lot of wisdom. She followed Wanda down a long corridor to the very back of the club. The small woman pointed for her to enter a dimly lit room which contained many mirrors. No matter which way she looked, she saw himself in a reflection.
"Here you go," said Wanda. "This is the women's dressing room."
"Which table is mine?"
"Use any you want."
Beth was struck by how many tables lined the walls. She realized that Nathan must employ a tremendous number of girls to have this many tables in this large of a room. As she walked across the plush carpeting she stubbed her toe on something on the floor. "I need some light," she complained, trying very hard to adjust her eyes. "It's too dark."
"You'll have to get used to that around here," Wanda laughed. "Nathan's too cheap to pay the utility bill. God forbid that one of us girls should need some light to get dressed. Ha! He'd rather have us go blind. Anyway, you'll find that there's not much light in the interior of the Kitty Kat Club except on the stage, so you'll have to watch your step at all times."
"Okay, thanks for the advice," said Beth. "Where's my costume?"
"I have to take your measurements before I can give you one. Wait here. I'll be right back."
Beth stood in place and waited while the small woman grabbed a tape measure from the clothes hanger. Wanda came back and said, "Stand up straight and breath in."
Beth did as she was told, maintaining a perfectly straight posture. In this position she appeared to be even more sexy than she already was. Her amply breasts were thrust out even further. Her svelte waistline was even narrower than normal. Her already shapely hips and pelvis took on a more womanly, sexier appearance.
Wanda stepped forward and said, "Raise your arms high above your head-like you're reaching for that overhead beam."
"Like this?"
The small woman watched appreciatively as the blonde's large succulent breasts were thrust outward against the material of her blouse, straining to break free from their confinement of cloth. Wanda reached under the blonde's arms and wrapped the tape around her body so that it went right over the very tips of the nipples. She brought it around the front of Beth and began to take the bust measurement.
Wanda seemed to have a great deal of difficulty obtaining the measurement. Furthermore, she seemed to keep her hands in the vicinity of the the nipples for a longer time than necessary, frequently brushing them in a very suggestive manner.
Next, Wanda took the waist measurement. This time Beth sensed something suspicious in the woman's behavior when she said, "Oh my! You do have a firm little tummy don't you?"
Beth blushed and acknowledged the remark by saying, "I try to keep in shape."
"I'll say 'Amen' to that. With a body like yours, you'll probably be the star of this nightclub in only a matter of a few weeks-if not days."
"Oh, I doubt that."
"I'm quite serious," Wanda replied as she lowered the tape measure to Beth's hips, and began running her hands on the outside of the thighs. "A girl as pretty as you in the face and having a body as gorgeous as this is sure to be a very big hit at the Kitty Kat Club."
The short woman seemed to take a considerable amount of time with the hip measurement. Beth kept looking straight ahead, but she had the strange sense that Wanda was looking directly at her crotch, as if hypnotized by it. And again, the woman kept brushing her hands on Beth's private parts.
"Yes, you are truly a beautiful looking woman," said Wanda breathlessly, standing up. "I'll go get you a costume right away."
Beth was only there for a few minutes when she heard footsteps in the hallway. She had expected to see Wanda returning with a costume, but was instead shocked to see her good friend Cynthia Jones.
"Beth Smith!" Cynthia exclaimed with a happy and lilting voice. "What are you doing here?"
"I should ask you the same question," Beth said with a smile.
"I didn't know that you'd been thinking about working at the Kitty Kat Club. My god! It's a small world, isn't it?"
"I'll say," Beth replied hesitantly, not wanting to confess that the reason she was there was because her hubby had been permanently laid off from his place of employment.
Cynthia set her bag on a nearby table and asked, "So, have they fitted you with a costume yet?"
"They took the measurements, so I'm just waiting for it to arrive. It should be here in a little while."
The lovely redhead smiled as she began undressing. "Don't be too shocked if you think it's a little too skimpy."
"Skimpy?"
"Yes. I thought mine was much too revealing when I was first fitted, but now I like it. You'll get used to it, but it'll take a while."
"How ... how skimpy is this costume?" Beth asked with concern.
Cynthia turned to her and said, "Do you remember those uniforms that the bunnies used to wear in the Playboy Clubs?"
"Of course."
"Kitty Kat costumes are sort of like that, except that they're cut smaller through the crotch, lower across the breasts, and further down the back. In other words-not much material."
"Oh goodness. What am I getting myself into!" mumbled Beth beneath her breath.
Cynthia winked and said, "A hell of a lot of money, my dear. Don't worry about anything. Once you start making the big bucks, you'll be amazed at how much degradation you'll tolerate."
"Degradation!" Beth whispered. She wanted Cynthia to elaborate on that word but was distracted by footsteps in the hallway.
Just then, Wanda came back into the room hurriedly and said, "Here you go. This should fit you. If it doesn't, let me know and I'll bring you another."
Beth looked at the item which was handed to her and was surprised that she could hold it in the palm of one hand. She nearly burst out laughing. She had string bikinis which were bigger. "My word!" she exclaimed. "I can't wear this. There's practically nothing here. G-strings are larger than this!"
"Not really," laughed Cynthia. "We used to wear G-strings here, but our pussies kept popping into view. Actually there's more to that costume than meets the eye," she said as she removed her top, revealing a truly splendid pair of breasts. "The fabric stretches nicely and covers a great deal. None of your vital parts will be showing, my dear."
"I'm not worried about my vital parts showing, I'm worried about them being suggested."
The redhead looked at her and smiled. "Beth, you're one of the best looking women in this town. No matter what you wear will look suggestive. Here, step over here to the mirror and take a look at yourself."
She did as she was told.
Cynthia placed an arm over her shoulder and said, "There. Take a look at that gorgeous woman. Isn't that one of the most beautiful females you've ever seen?"
She blushed. "I'm not that special. There are a lot of American women who look like me."
"I wouldn't bet on that, Beth. You obviously haven't been paying much attention to all the young female porkers that we have nowadays. Even the college girls are starting to resemble a combination of Roseanne Barr and Raymond Burr. Cellulite is in on campus."
Beth felt comfortable standing close to Cynthia. There seemed to be a warmth and a tender closeness that the two women shared. Their friendship seemed to be based on a sense of mutual trust. She allowed herself to relax so that she could savor the moment in the company of a dear friend.
The redhead leaned close and whispered in her ear, "Even the mailman thinks that you look great."
Beth's eyes lit up as she turned and asked, "Leroy, the mailman, mentioned me? Really?"
"Yes. I saw him right before lunch. He said that he had breakfast at your place this morning and that you looked positively sensational."
Beth blushed. All of her life she had difficulty handling a compliment-which was ironic because she received dozens of them every week-sometimes dozens of them in the course of an afternoon. She turned away from the mirror and began taking off her clothes. For some reason the news about Leroy finding her attractive made her feel excited. Yet, she wondered why. After all, why should she be concerned about what he thought of her? He was just a mailman, and mailmen were more or less a dime a dozen. Any woman could stop by the post office and grab twenty of them.
As she pulled her pantyhose down her long lovely legs she asked, "Do you and Leroy talk very often?"
"Whenever I see him," Cynthia said with a wry smile. She knew what Beth was thinking. The blonde beauty had a fire in her hot tight box and was yearning for dark meat.
"How long have you known him?" Beth asked timidly, trying hard not to show her interest.
The redhead realized that Beth was quite interested in Leroy. But then what girl wouldn't be? He was big, handsome, and black. "Oh, I'd say ever since he got stationed on this present mail route about a year ago. We've become very close friends, sharing all sorts of things." She stopped short of saying that they especially liked to share genital fluids.
She looked over at her blonde friend and said, "He's quite good looking, don't you think?"
"Er ... yes. I do think that he's very good looking," replied Beth as she removed the last vestiges of her garments and looked at herself in the full-length mirror.
"I was never attracted to black men before," continued Cynthia. "But there was simply something magical about the way he carried himself. He knows how to walk. He knows how to talk. He knows how to dance. He's so much of a man-if you know what I mean."
Beth was having a hard time handling the costume while conversing with Cynthia. The memories of Leroy was causing little goose bumps to pop up on her flesh, and the recollection of feeling his penis through his trousers was causing her tummy to flutter mysteriously.
Cynthia could see that Beth was jittery. The beautiful blonde was obviously quite taken with handsome Leroy. It would be amusing to get the two of them together to see what might transpire. Maybe something quite interesting, and quite sexy.
Once Beth had the Kitty Kat costume on, she stepped over in front of the mirror and looked at herself. "My god! I can't wear this. It shows everything. I look utterly naked."
There was little doubt that the costume was quite revealing. The sensual curve of her full breasts was easily discernible as were the prominent nipples, the elongated belly button, and the cleft through the middle of her pubic mound. The costume plunged all the way to her buttocks in the back, barely covered her nipples in the front, and was cut to the mid-point of her abdomen, thus accentuating her long and beautiful legs. But the thing which bothered her most was the fact that her Mound of Venus was so openly displayed. She had never worn a swim suit this revealing-much less a working costume.
"Is yours this skimpy?" she asked.
Cynthia had just put hers on and had come over to Beth's side. "Of course. That's the uniform here."
"But Cynthia! I look like I'm naked."
"I felt the same way at first, but you'll get used to it."
"My husband doesn't even see me like this."
Cynthia winked. "He should. Maybe it would improve your sex life."
Beth looked at her in shock, tightly clenched her teeth, and loudly whispered, "Herschel and I have a wonderful sex life."
"Come now, Beth. I know that you haven't been getting laid as much as you want."
The blonde blushed. She had no idea how her friend knew about her desperate sexual need, but she did. "How can you tell?" she asked. "I want to know."
"Women who are sexually satisfied wear a look of contentment on their faces all the time. They walk down the street with a smile. If you look closely, you'll notice that their eyes are glazed. They live in a state of bliss and contentment. Whereas whenever I see you, you're always sneaking glances. It's as if you want to know the size, shape, length, and girth of every man's penis."
"I do not!" exclaimed Beth, suddenly very concerned that her desperate need for sex was becoming discernible to the average citizen on the street. Damn that Herschel anyway! If he had been born with a bigger penis and possessed a more active libido she wouldn't need to walk around with her tongue hanging out. It was all his fault.
Cynthia turned and walked back to her locker. She had to keep herself from giggling. Everything she'd told Beth was fabricated, but she knew the blonde beauty would be immensely curious about sexual matters if told she had a problem. There was nothing quite like making a gorgeous female self-conscious of her already extraordinarily beautiful looks.
"Well, I wouldn't be concerned," Cynthia said over her shoulder. "Here at the Kitty Kat Club it's quite all right to look at men's crotches and wonder what kind of equipment they pack between their thighs."
Beth was suddenly curious. "Do you look at other men, Cynthia?"
"Yes, of course" she laughed. "Whenever I get the chance, which happens to be all the time."
"But you're married!"
"That hardly makes a difference. This is the 1990's, kiddo. We're not living in the stone age of the 1890's. Women have just as much right to check out the bodies of men, as men do the bodies of women. Tit for tat, you know. Besides, I find penis-browsing kind of fun," she said as she again turned to hide her giggles.
"Really? They don't mind it?"
"Of course not. That's where we women have been wrong for so long. It's perfectly all right to stare at the genitals of the opposite gender even though you or he may be married. It's a natural. That's what the kids of the 1960's were trying to tell us. It's all right to have sexual curiosity. It's all right to be turned-on in the presence of the opposite sex. It's all right to have them stare up your dress and try to sneak a peek at your vagina. It's all right if they lick their lips if they're looking between your legs at your panties. And it's all right if you lick yours when you're looking between theirs and sizing them up-if you know what I mean?" she said with a giggle and a smile.
Beth had never had such an openly lewd conversation in her entire adult life. When it came to matters of sex she usually remained quiet and didn't say a word-although she always kept her ears wide-open because she liked to listen. But somehow Cynthia had unleashed a tidal wave of questions. She wanted to talk about her needs. She wanted to talk about her travails. All of those years of remaining silent had finally gotten to her. She had to talk about her husband's shortcomings. Suddenly, in a voice meant for a football game, she exclaimed, "You know, to tell you the truth, I always wished that Herschel had a bigger penis."
Cynthia rolled her eyelids in her head and thought that her friend must be out of her mind to bring up a subject like that in a place like this. Maybe the girl was in worse shape than she imagined.
She walked over and placed her arms across Beth's shoulders. "Poor baby. Making love to a poorly hung man is such a bummer. A beautiful woman like you should have a man with a large cock."
Beth was mildly shocked by the use of that word. "Well, I do wish that he had an additional few inches on his penis. It would increase my pleasure immensely."
"Of course it would, darling. Your box is just burning for something long and hard. By the way, how long is Herschel's?" She asked the question as if ordering a hamburger from the drive-up window at Burger King.
"Well, I don't know if I should say ... "
"Oh, come on. We're close friends. You can tell me. How long is your hubby's cock?"
Beth looked around and asked, "Are you sure that it's all right to discuss these matters in public?"
"Of course. We do it all the time here at the Kitty Kat Club. In fact, we discuss penis length all the time. What do you think they do on 'Geraldo', 'Donahue', and 'Oprah' every afternoon?"
Beth's inhibitions were rapidly melting, "Well, Herschel's penis is probably four inches-at most."
"Four inches!" Cynthia screamed at the top of her lungs. "Holy shit! The guy has a midget dick!"
Beth was suddenly quite worried that the words had been overheard. She brought her index finger to her lips and tried to "Sssh!" while looking around to make sure that Wanda was nowhere in sight.
Cynthia continued shaking her head and talking loudly. "Four inches! I can't believe that! Four inches! That's disgusting. Four inches! Are you sure? Have you measured it?"
"Well, no. Not with a ruler ... but it's about as long as my little finger when it's erect."
"Why that's criminal!" Cynthia said soothingly. "Honey, it's time that you went out and had yourself an extramarital affair with a well-hung superstud."
"Oh no, no!" Beth replied with trepidation. "I could never do that. I'm a married woman."
Cynthia looked at her friend as if she were from the twilight zone. "For your information, you're only half married, darling."
"Why do you say that?"
"A full marriage is one where both partners are sexually satisfied. That means a tight vagina and a big dick."
As these words sank in, Beth smiled and said, "Well, I do have the former."
This admission brought a broad smile to Cynthia's face. "Are you really as tight as you say?"
"Well, Herschel says that I am-and he's small."
"I take it that you were a virgin when you got married?"
"Yes. How did you know?" Beth asked with surprise.
"Because if your labia had been stretched by bigger penises, you wouldn't have stuck around with Herschel and his small organ so long."
Beth thought about the logic of that statement, frowned when she didn't understand it, and then said, "Herschel's an okay guy. Don't be so hard on him."
"He should be harder on you," Cynthia teased. "Over and over again, I might add. That would keep your blues away."
Several other women came into the dressing room and began disrobing. Each was just as beautiful as Cynthia and Beth.
"Cynthia," said a blonde in a perky voice, "Who's the new girl you're sitting with?"
"This is Beth Smith, Anne. This is her introductory night at the Kitty Kat Club."
"Oh wow!" exclaimed Anne. "She's in for a treat. I wish that I would have started on Tuesdays myself."
"Why's that?" Beth asked.
"Because it's black night."
Beth frowned and asked, "What's ... what's black night? I don't know what that means."
"All the patrons are supposed to be black," replied Cynthia.
"You mean ... negroes?" Beth asked while blushing and trying to cover her lovely breasts with her dainty palms.
"Yes," Cynthia replied. "Although the club is usually mixed most nights of the week, on Tuesdays there's an overwhelming predominance of black males in the audience. Don't ask us why, it just happens that way."
Beth looked over and saw that Anne had a trim little figure. She was a bouncy petite blonde who seemed to have the energy of five women stored in that little shapely body of hers. Beth admired women who had small breasts. Hers were such a problem to deal with. She was proud of them all right, but she would have preferred smaller models.
"Well, c'mon," Cynthia said. "Let's go out onto the floor. I can see that there are some customers starting to come in."
"By the way," Beth asked, "how am I supposed to handle it if one of the men touches me?"
Cynthia laughed. "Unlike the Playboy Clubs of the old days, the Kitty Kat Club allows physical touching. That does not mean pawing or kneading-those kinds of actions aren't allowed. But a gentle touch here and there is no big thing. And if a patron touches your pussy or the tips of your breasts you're supposed to meow."
"You mean like a cat!" Beth replied in a horrified tone of voice.
"Yes." Cynthia said with a smile before reaching down with her hand and lightly touching Beth's pubis. "Now say 'meow'."
The blonde's mouth opened in a gasp as she jolted her body backwards. When it came to anyone touching her pussy she was extremely shy. "You've got to be kidding me. You can't ... can't ... can't ... mean that men actually ... touch ... touch ... a woman's private parts!"
"Well, of course."
"Anytime they want to!"
"Well, of course."
"Oh Cynthia, I don't think that I can do this job."
"Nonsense. Anybody can do it. And the more they pet your pussy, the more they pay you. That's it. That's the secret of this place. All you've got to do is be willing to put up with it."
"I don't know if I like the idea of a group of black men pawing me. I find it ... it ... sort of repulsive."
Cynthia looked out of the corner of her eye at the blonde bombshell. If Beth went out on the floor with a racist attitude like that, there could be real trouble. She calmly tried to quell her fears. "Black men are no different than white men-except that they tip better. Skin color means nothing here at the Kitty Kat Club. We're all here to have a good time-regardless of race, creed, or color. I'm a firm believer that every race has its geniuses, just as every race has its morons. There are more differences within a given race between the brightest and dumbest individuals, than there are between individuals from different races. Keep that thought in mind and racism immediately vanishes. So come on, let's get on the floor and hustle our lovely butts."
Chapter Six
Beth stepped out into the large dining area and saw approximately three dozen black faces seated at various tables scattered around the room. When they saw her enter, many of them turned in her direction. Instinctively, she lowered her hands and covered her pussy as if protecting it from visual assault. She felt completely nude and exposed.
"Oh wow!" said one of the black men seated near the front. "Look at the new white chick that Nathan hired. Mmmm! Mmmm! What's your name, honey? I want you to wait on my table. In fact, I'd like to have you on my table-all spread out."
Another voice called out, "I think I've died and gone to heaven. You're the most beautiful white broad I've ever seen. Tell me you suck black cock- please. Better yet, tell me that you cook dark meat in your tiny little oven."
Still another voice said, "C'mon over here, honey. Sit in my lap and check out the size of my homegrown organ. You can play with it all night long if you'd like."
Beth stood in place still covering her sex with her small hands. She didn't know what to do. Everywhere she looked there were dark faces looking at her. At her side, at her front, at her back. She felt more vulnerable than at any time in her life.
Cynthia came over and said, "C'mon. You can't stand here all night. You've got to get to work."
Beth walked along with her friend and she could feel every eye in the room burrowing into her body. She became very conscious of how skimpy the costume really was. She could feel her breasts jiggle as she stepped along. She could feel the nipples brush against the fabric. She could feel the elastic stretch against her crotch as she walked. She could feel her succulent ass bounce as she sashayed around the tables and chairs.
And yet, even though she felt mortified, she also felt eroticized. Never before had she felt so much like a prized possession. It was apparent that the black men truly desired her beautiful white body. And just as Cynthia had said, many of them were smacking their lips as they watched her walk along.
Cynthia brought her over to the bar and explained, "This is the most important thing you're going to have to learn. This is where you get your drinks. Just give your order to the bartender and he'll fill it. All you have to do is skedaddle back and forth from the customers to the bar. Keep the glasses filled with liquor and you've got no problems. Got it."
"You make it sound so simple."
"It is, and it's incredibly good money for doing simple shit. So, don't rock the boat. Put up with the looks, the gawking, and the feeling, and you've got it made."
She immediately went to work, running back and forth from the tables to the bar, always carrying drinks. The evening wore on as she paced from one table to another. Cynthia had been right: it was a simple job. As long as you kept the customers happy, you had no problem. And she was so busy she didn't have time to worry about the constant staring at her privates, nor the occasional pinches on her buttocks. It was just something that went with the territory. Several times she got petted on the pussy and she meowed like she was supposed to, but a great many men were more interested in drinking than they were in pawing.
She also realized that many of the men were shy-just like white guys. These fellows apparently came to the club to watch, but not to touch-just like white guys. Some were just as inhibited in the presence of a scantily clad female as-white guys. When she understood the similarities between men, she felt more comfortable. She could shake her ass and thrust her pussy with no regrets.
After about three hours, the customers finally started to file out and she started to catch her breath. She excused herself to the rest room where she met Cynthia.
"Well, how's the new girl doing?" the redhead asked as she was rearranging her hair.
"You were right. This is a piece of cake. I thought it was going to be like a large restaurant where I had to memorize hundreds of food items. But hell! Everybody here drinks basically the same thing."
"See, I told you so. Well, c'mon," Cynthia said. "It's time to get on with Phase Two of your initiation."
"Phase two?" Beth asked, somewhat confused. "Why do you call it that?"
"Because by this time of night the customers are a little bit bolder in their actions. Brace yourself."
Oh no! worried Beth. Now what? She followed Cynthia back out onto the floor, preparing for the worst. Maybe a pussy pincher. Maybe a titty tweaker. Or, perhaps a nipple nibbler. She had learned all of these names from Cynthia and worried about each of them.
She saw Cynthia wave to someone, but couldn't see who it was because it was through the dim light. She hoped that it wasn't a pussy pincher. They were the worst.
"C'mon. Follow me," said Cynthia with a smile.
"Where are we going?"
"Just hang on. You'll see."
As Beth hurried along to the back table she recognized Leroy the mailman.
He looked up and teased, "Oh no! Don't tell me I'm going to have to deliver mail again today. No! No! Can't you wait until tomorrow morning?"
Both Cynthia and Beth laughed heartily as they looked at the incredibly handsome black man.
Cynthia looked at him and said, "Leroy, I think that you know my good friend Beth. And Beth, I think that you know Leroy."
"Hello again," he said, allowing his eyes to take in her magnificent figure. He had no idea that she was this good looking. And darned if she didn't have the nicest pouch of a pussy he had ever seen. He could sit and stare at that for hours, never growing tired.
In return, she admired him. She had never seen him without his uniform on. To say the least, he looked must better without those silly stripped pants. She felt a little flutter in her lower abdomen.
Cynthia turned to her and said, "Why don't you sit in Leroy's lap, while I'll go take care of those two new customers who just came in. I'll be right back."
Had she heard correctly? Did Cynthia really say, "Sit in his lap"? Apparently she did because Leroy was patting his upper thighs as if offering them as a cushion for her buttocks.
She turned to Cynthia for help, but she was already across the room helping the patrons. She wondered if the redhead wasn't swaying her hips a little too provocatively. Beth looked back at Leroy who was still patting his lap. She was hesitant to sit, but figured it was safe. Besides, he was her mailman. She had nothing to fear from him.
She stepped forward and sat her lovely and shapely ass in his lap. Instantly she realized how muscular he was underneath his clothes. His biceps were like steel cables. Herschel was a chubby kitten by comparison.
Leroy lifted his right hand to cradle her back, and his left hand to cradle her thighs. Mmmm! She was a gorgeous woman-and her skin felt so smooth and silky. And the Kitty Kat costume was perfect for groping.
"How do you like working here?" he asked.
"It's not bad," she said softly. "It's a lot different than I thought it would he."
"I really like your costume."
"Thanks," she said, again in a soft voice.
"I was wondering what you looked like under that bathrobe this morning. Now I know."
"It's pretty hard to hide your figure in one of these things," she said, attempting to get a laugh.
Cynthia came back to the table and sat in an empty chair. The sight of the beautiful blonde sitting in the handsome black's lap looked very erotic. She felt a stirring in her loins just gazing at them. She decided to play a little game by asking, "Leroy, don't you think that Beth has the most beautiful legs?"
He recognized this as a cue. He looked at the blonde and replied, "I sure do. And I'm surprised at how smooth they are." He took his big hand and placed it on her knee and lightly squeezed.
Beth looked at the large black hand on her white flesh. It felt nice. And she watched in fascination as it moved slowly up her leg to a spot right above the knee, to the lower thigh, to the mid thigh. His hand felt very, very good. In fact, it felt terrific. Her husband had never taken the time to do this sort of thing. Naw, he was just too damned business oriented. He was so wrapped up in the ins and outs of the commercial world, that he never took the time to learn the ins and outs of sex.
As the word "sex" crossed her mind, she felt a little tingle in her pussy. She looked down to her crotch and saw that Leroy's hand was nestled on her uppermost inner thigh and was doing delightfully wicked things with her flesh. He was wiggling his index finger back and forth just inches below her pubic mound. Did he know how close he was to her secret chamber? Did he care? Did he know what he was doing with that fingernail of his?
"You have the most magnificent legs I've seen on any woman in a long time," he said.
"What about mine?" pouted Cynthia. "Don't you think that I have pretty legs?"
"I don't know. You'll have to come over here and sit on my other leg if you want me to check them out."
He motioned for Beth to stand up so that he could spread his legs into a wide V so that each woman could set her shapely ass on one of his muscular thighs.
When Cynthia was in place she moaned, "Ahhh. This is much better. It beats the shit out of that hard assed chair."
"I like it better too," he whispered, stroking her back with his hand.
"Now, where were we?" asked Cynthia. "Oh! I know. We were comparing thigh flesh. Here, take a feel of my inner thigh and tell me if you think it's as nice as hers." She spread her legs slightly to allow him greater access.
He placed his left hand high up on her inner thigh, while he placed his right hand on her breast.
"Ooooh! I like this game," cooed Cynthia.
Leroy reached forward with his left hand and ticked her crotch. "You're going to like it a lot more in a little while," he said with a salacious chuckle while poking at the faint indentation left by her slit.
Beth saw what he had done and was mildly concerned. Did he think that he could do that anytime he desired to any waitress he desired? Maybe she should get up and continue with her duties before he decided to touch her most erogenous zone.
"Meow!" said Cynthia with a broad grin and a laugh.
"I like your meow, kitty cat. Let's see if your coworker has the same kind of pleasant voice when I touch her pleasure chute."
Beth was frozen in place. She couldn't have moved if there was an air raid and an imminent nuclear attack. She watched the hand move up her inner thigh until it was only fractions of an inch from her crotch. Her eyes opened wide as she saw the fingers extend themselves to the very core of her being. When the centimeter of distance had only become a millimeter of distance, she inhaled deeply. She felt the tips of the black fingers touch her Mound of Venus.
"Gitchee gitchee goo," he said with a smile as he lightly stroked the tip of his index finger against her sex.
Cynthia burst out laughing. "Well, how does it feel?"
Beth was surprised at how sensual it was. Not knowing what else to say, she let out a long pleasant, "Meow!"
Leroy moved his finger from Beth and returned it to Cynthia. She too meowed. Next, he placed his hand on Beth's pussy again and she let out another meow.
Oh, it was a very fun game. Everyone giggled and laughed. They were having a good time.
Cynthia turned to Leroy and said, "You know, Beth and I were talking before we came out here, and she said that she wished her husband had a bigger penis ... "
"Cynthia! My word!" Beth exclaimed. "I don't go around telling others the secrets that you tell me."
"Relax, honey," Cynthia said as she reached forward and touched the blonde's thigh with her palm. There's no need to get upset. Leroy here is one of the most understanding people there is. All the girls here at the Kitty Kat club come to him with all kinds of problems-sexual or otherwise. Whatever topic we discuss never leaves the confines of the Kitty Kat Club."
Beth relaxed a little. She had been so worked up there for a moment that she hadn't noticed Leroy's fingers still caressing her crotch, attempting to slide beneath the elastic hem.
"So, you're husband doesn't have a very large penis, eh?" asked Leroy, pretending to be very concerned about her marital problems, but actually more concerned about the depth of her vagina.
"No," Beth replied meekly.
"How long is it when it's fully erect?" he asked, not giving a shit whether the guy had a dick or not.
"Didn't you say that it was only about four inches, Beth?"
She nodded affirmatively.
"That's awful," said Leroy. "I'm glad I've got about twelve inches between my thighs."
Beth was stunned. She looked at him and said, "No way. No man has a foot-long penis."
"Don't bet him, Beth," Cynthia said with a smile. "He does. I've seen it."
Again Beth was startled. "You've seen it. Really?"
"Of course. Go on. Pull it out, Leroy. Show it to her."
He reached down and unzipped himself. He reached into his underwear and whipped out his huge dong.
Beth's eyes fixed on it. She couldn't believe its size. It was three times the size of her husband's. It was twice the girth. She was unable to speak.
"Pretty big, eh Beth?" asked Cynthia.
"I ... I ... I ... can't believe it. I had no idea they could grow that big." The fact that it was black also fascinated her. What would that look like sliding into her tight little mound? More importantly, what would something like that feel like?
He knew what was going through her mind. Whenever he displayed himself to a white woman they always began wondering what it might feel like, or smell like, or taste like. "Go ahead and wrap your hands around it, Beth. Tell me how you like it. I won't stop you."
She looked around to make sure that no one other than Leroy or Cynthia was watching. After all, it would be quite embarrassing to explain to her husband that she'd been feeling a black man's dick at the Kitty Kat Club.
Yet, she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. She wasn't married to this man. She hardly knew the individual. And besides, he was a member of another race. A black man!
Leroy knew where her head was at, so he looked at her levelly and asked, "You're not afraid of me because I'm black, are you, Beth?"
She was immediately awash with guilt. "No, no, no. It's nothing like that. It's just that I didn't expect that this job would entail something like this."
"For goodness sakes, Beth. You're making things out to be much worse than they are. This isn't part of the job. This is for fun. Go on and touch it. It's just a penis, for crying out loud. Here, watch me. I'll run my hands up and down and you tell me what it looks like." She reached down and lovingly stroked it.
Beth couldn't believe what she was seeing. The penis was actually growing larger right before her eyes. She didn't think that was possible. It began looking like a monster from a Japanese science fiction flick. A one-eyed snake about ready to attack New York City.
The more she looked at it, the more it seemed to be standing upright and pointing right at her face.
"Don't you wish you could be doing what I'm doing right now?" Cynthia asked with a smile on her face. "You could you know, if you weren't a racist."
Beth was hurt. She considered herself a liberal and took her political persuasion seriously. "I'm not a racist."
"You are if you'll play with a white man's cock, but you won't a black man's."
"What are you talking about? I don't play with white men's cocks."
"I'm talking about Herschel's."
"He's my husband."
"That makes no difference. If you weren't a racist you would be fondling Leroy's right now."
Beth didn't know what to say. The logic seemed absurd. But then, everything seemed absurd since she walked into the Kitty Kat Club. The world seemed turned upside down. First she had to show her pussy to get hired. Then she had to learn to stand still and meow when her pussy was petted by complete strangers. Now she was supposed to play with a black man's dick to prove that she wasn't a racist!
"There's still room on my dick for another white woman's hand," Leroy said. "If you have to courage to feel it, you can.
She was being challenged. She hated that. Nothing made her angrier than to be goaded into doing something. She decided to show both of them that she had the courage to do as they requested. She slowly brought her hand forward and placed it close to, but not on, the magnificent black shaft.
"Go on. I like it. You will too," Cynthia said with a very wicked smile as she rubbed her hand up and down in a masturbatory fashion.
Beth's curiosity was getting the best of her. She really wanted to know if it felt differently than her husband's. Would it have a black texture-if there was such a thing? She extended her index finger and lightly touched the very tip-and strangely enough, it didn't seem that menacing at all. It felt friendly and comforting.
Ahhhh!" he moaned. "Ohhh! That feels so good, Beth."
She smiled. She had actually done it. She had actually touched a black man's penis. Wow!
Cynthia took her hand and placed it over Beth's. "It's warm isn't it?"
Beth merely shook her head affirmatively. Her breath was caught in her throat and her heart was palpitating with excitement.
"Have you ever had one of these beautiful black organs inside of you?" Cynthia asked.
Beth looked at her as she continued to move her hand up and down. She couldn't believe what Cynthia was suggesting. She knew an invitation to sexual intercourse when she heard one. No longer did her manual actions on his upright member seem so innocent.
The redhead saw the shocked expression on her friend's face and said, "Oh that's right. You were a virgin when you got married. I'm sorry. I forgot."
"She was a virgin!" Leroy laughed. "I can't believe that."
Although she was totally embarrassed she replied, "Well ... I was!"
"You must not have been very beautiful when you were a teenager. Were you the ugly duckling of your high school?"
"That's not true. I was always very pretty."
"But you never had a dick stuck into you until your wedding night?" Cynthia asked.
"Don't make it sound so vulgar. There are a lot of women who wait until they're married before they sleep with a man."
Cynthia saw that Beth was relaxing a bit. She was becoming more comfortable handling Leroy's dick. She was masturbating it more enthusiastically when she smiled. Cynthia asked, "What's so funny?"
"I was just remembering my wedding night," the blonde beauty replied.
"Tell us about it," Cynthia asked.
Beth looked at her, and then around at the surrounding tables. She noticed that many of the customers had left, and there were only a few waitresses milling around. Anne was with a large well-dressed black man over by the bar. Several other lovely white girls were with other well-dressed black males. Everyone seemed to be having a very good time and speaking intimately.
"Come on, come on," Cynthia demanded. "Tell us about your wedding night."
"Well, to tell you the truth, Herschel didn't make love to me on my wedding night. I kept waiting and waiting in my nightie, but he wouldn't come into the bedroom. I asked him what was wrong and he told me that he was too nervous to have sex with me. I had to wait about a month before he got enough courage to try to make love. It was really a big thing for him-much bigger than I would have assumed it would be. Unfortunately, the first time that I saw his penis I burst out laughing."
"Why's that?" asked Cynthia as she squeezed Beth's hand lovingly with her own.
"Because it was so small."
Leroy burst out laughing as did Cynthia.
Beth continued with her story. "I thought that a penis as small as that belonged on a Ken doll, not on a fully grown man."
"What was it like when he finally put it into you?" asked Cynthia as she began moving Beth's hand more energetically.
"It wasn't much. I remember everyone telling me how great sex was going to be and all that, but I actually felt nothing for the first six or seven months that we did it. Of course, Herschel, being as inexperienced as I was, just couldn't keep it up long enough for me to achieve orgasm. And even when he could get it up, he couldn't keep it up for very long. If I hadn't learned some basic masturbation techniques my vagina would have dried up from disuse. It's only been in the last couple of years that I've almost reached a plateau of orgasmic release."
"Poor thing," said Cynthia. "And you've been married for nearly ten years. That's a very sad story."
"I should say so," Leroy agreed as he began to rub his hand insistently on Beth's crotch. "Poor thing's never really known the delights of sex. No wonder her little vagina's still as tight as a virgin's."
"Ummmmm!" Beth moaned, as she felt Leroy's finger rub against her nether region. This time she welcomed his invading digit by opening her thighs a little wider and allowing him greater access.
"Look what she's doing!" Cynthia exclaimed. "She's spreading her thighs. That a girl. There's nothing to be ashamed of. After all, this is the Kitty Kat Club and you're a woman of the 1990's."
Cynthia leaned forward and kissed Leroy on the cheek. She stuck out her tongue and licked his black skin and then she pointed to Beth and said, "You know what I'd like to know."
"What's that?" replied Leroy.
"I'd like to know if Beth there is a natural blonde or not."
Beth, who had been straining to open her thighs as wide as possible, heard the question and said, "Of course I'm a natural blonde."
"There's only one way to tell for certain," replied Cynthia.
"That's right," added Leroy with a broad smile. "We have to look at your pubic hair to verify it."
For some reason Beth started laughing. "I can't believe you two. Do you ask that of all the girls who work here?"
"Just the extremely pretty ones," answered Leroy as he began to work his fingers beneath the elastic covering her Mound of Venus.
Beth should have been shocked. Instead she simply sat on his lap and watched the black digit work its way inward, pushing the material aside. In only a few moments her pubic hair was fully exposed. "There! Now are you satisfied?" she asked.
He ran his fingers through the blonde curls for several seconds before saying, "Yes. She's a natural blonde all right. I don't think that there's any doubt about that."
Cynthia was watching his hand and said, "Move the elastic back a bit further, Leroy. I want to see what her entire pussy looks like. And look closely at the roots of the pubic hair. See if she does a dye job down there."
Beth didn't resist. She spread her thighs wider until the tendons began to strain against the flesh. She watched as if hypnotized, as her pussy was exposed to open display.
"There it is!" Cynthia exclaimed. "My goodness! What a beautiful little cunt she has. I always wondered what you looked like down there. Now I know."
With one finger Leroy kept the elastic pushed aside while at the same time running his index finger up and down her slit. He poked his fingers around on her pubic hair, looking closely at the roots.
Cynthia reached down with her hand and pushed her own garment to the side, thus exposing her beautiful red bush to view. "Whose do you like better, Leroy? Mine or hers?"
Beth couldn't believe that she heard correctly. Was she really sitting on a black man's lap discussing the appearance of pussies? Was this a new low or a new high in conversation?
Leroy extended his left hand and placed his left index finger in Cynthia's snatch. He wiggled his finger back and forth several times, causing her to squirm. He then withdrew it, placed it in his mouth, and licked it clean.
Beth had always heard that certain men did this, but she never believed it. Herschel would never do something like that. But then, he seemed to be afraid of pussies. That was probably because he was one himself.
"How does it taste, darling," asked Cynthia.
"It's pretty good, but I have to make a comparison with a blonde's before I can say for certain. Beth, open wide and say, Ahhhh'."
Beth didn't know if she liked this game, but allowed him to put his right index finger into her snatch. "Ohhhh!" she moaned as it sank in. "Ahhhh! Ahhhh!" she grunted as it moved back and forth.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" asked Cynthia. "I always like him to touch my G spot, but it works a lot better with a penis."
The words barely registered in Beth's mind. She was getting very turned on in this position, with her legs spread wide and Leroy working expertly on her cunt. She could barely control herself. She now understood why Cynthia had been squirming around so much when he did this to her. Hell! Leroy's index finger was longer than Herschel's penis! And it stayed hard for more than thirty seconds.
"Don't you think these costumes are a little too confining?" asked Cynthia. "I mean, my god, my body needs to breathe free." With those words she stood up and quickly discarded the Kitty Kat Club costume. In only moments, she was clad in nothing but high heel shoes and a pair of valor cat ears.
Beth had never really gotten a close look at her friend before, but after she got a clear look at her nude body she had to admit that Cynthia was a dynamite looking broad. Any man would be pleased to go to bed with her.
Beth suddenly remembered that Cynthia was married. All of this time she had forgotten about that. Where was Fred? Did he know about the things his wife did here at the Kitty Kat Club? Her curiosity was getting the best of her. Finally she asked, "How are you and Fred doing these days?"
Cynthia looked down at her and smiled, "We're getting along just great. Why do you ask?"
"Does he know what goes on here?" she asked through short gasps for air. Leroy's hands were as expert with her body as her own.
Cynthia knew that Beth was merely being bitchy. A lot of women got like that when they wanted to play moralistic. She simply nodded and replied, "I hardly think that's any concern of his. I'm now a sexually liberated woman. I have been and always will be. He knows I'm happy working here at the Kitty Kat Club, and I bring home a very good paycheck. Therefore, I'm happy, and he's happy. It's as simple as that. If he doesn't like it, he can shove it up his ass."
Beth wanted to asked her about the real meaning of marriage, but Leroy's finger had started to work its way into and out of her cunt again-and this time he was playing with her clitoris too. She started to squirm uncontrollably on his lap.
"You like that, huh?" asked Leroy as he maneuvered his hands with all the expertise and experience of a master gigolo.
"Uh huh," Beth mouthed anxiously, afraid that if he kept this up she would lose her sanity.
"How about this?" he asked as he began running the thumb over the hard little pleasure nib of her clitoris.
"Ohhhhh!" she moaned. "Ohhhhhh!" she moaned again, forcing her thighs apart and thrusting her pelvis forward.
Cynthia bent down and kissed Leroy fully on the lips. "I think it's time that we take our little blonde beauty to the back room, don't you?"
"Yes. I'd say that she's just about ready to see what else goes on in the Kitty Kat Club."
"Ohhhh-ready for what?" Beth asked between moans as she kicked her thighs as wide apart as possible, nearly falling off of Leroy's lap in the process.
"Ready for your initiation into being a full-fledged member of the Kitty Kat Club, my dear. After all, this is where you work."
"Hunh! Hunh!" she moaned as the finger worked in and out of her. "Hunh! What are you talking about. Hunh!"
"C'mon. Stand up. It's time to go," Cynthia ordered.
"Ummm. I don't want to go anywhere. Can't I just stay here?"
"No. We've got to go see how Anne is doing."
"Anne? Who's that?"
"You remember. You met her in the dressing room."
"Oh, Hunh! Hunh! the petite blonde. Hunh! Hunh! Yea, I remember. Hunh! Hunh! But why do we have to leave here? Hunh!"
Leroy withdrew his finger and motioned for her to stand on her two feet. He knew it would be difficult because she was in any extreme state of arousal. He helped her stand, and sure enough-she nearly fell over.
"You've got to put your feet together, honey," he advised. "You can't go around with your thighs apart like that."
Chapter Seven
Beth had never had her vagina used like that before. She was astonished what she felt like. She finally managed to get up and walk along beside Cynthia and Leroy. They kept her standing as they strolled down a dimly-lit passageway and through a couple of doors she hadn't noticed before. Outside of one door they stopped.
Cynthia turned to her and said, "You must be very quite. You're not to make any unnecessary noise. Do you understand me?"
Beth nodded her head affirmatively. She was still flushed from the near orgasm caused by Leroy's finger fuck.
Cynthia leaned forward and removed a little wooden panel from the very middle of the door. "This is a one way mirror," she said. "We can see in, but they can't see out. Why don't you step close and take a look at what's happening."
Beth got up next to the door and looked in. It took a while for eyes to get adjusted to the light, but when they did she gasped. There in the middle of the bed was the waitress named Anne and she was ... being stuffed full of the biggest cock Beth had ever imagined. The thing must have been twelve inches long! But it looked even more immense sliding into Anne's little petite figure.
"Amazing isn't it?" asked Cynthia. "Such an innocent looking girl, doing such naughty things with a black penis. My, my, my, this is truly the end of Western Civilization," she said sarcastically.
Beth stepped close and looked again. Her eyes had not deceived her. Anne was truly amazing. What dexterity she had with that prick!
The longer Beth looked, the harder she found it to believe what she was watching. She began thinking that she was watching trick photography. A woman as small as Anne couldn't take something as monstrous as that black penis into her with suffering irreparable physical damage. No way. The girl would be bleeding and would have to have stitches-if she lived.
But as she looked closely, Beth could see no evidence of blood, brutality, or pain. Far from it. What she recognized was uninhibited pleasure.
Leroy had positioned himself behind Beth and was nudging his stiff penis into the crack of her ass. Because the bottom portion of her Kitty Kat costume was open, his penis was bumping against her bare bottom. Occasionally, he would wedge it deep into her crack and brush her anus. However, sodomy really wasn't on his mind. No, he was strictly a dick in the vagina man. Leave the butt-fucking to the San Francisco queers and New Orleans' faggots.
Beth felt the penis brush against her nether regions. As it touched one sensitive spot after another she began to wish that it was nudging into her in the same way that one was nudging into Anne. Actually, the one which was nudging into Anne was doing a lot more than nudging. It was fucking full-bore into the little lady relentlessly. The man on the bed resembled a mechanical pile driver drilling downward into the solid core of the earth.
Beth spread her thighs a little to allow Leroy's penis better access to her pelvic area. She couldn't explain the wonderful sensations she was feeling, but the organ felt extremely pleasurable as it probed around down there. She leaned forward a little hit and thrust her ass backward slightly. It was then that she felt the shaft was directly in line with her vagina. And to compound matters, her vagina had flowered open during the last hour of intense petting.
There was little doubt that she was about ready to be fucked. She debated whether to allow it or not. This would be her first fuck from someone other than her husband. Should she break her marital vows? Did they really mean all that much in the modern age anyway? She always lamented the fact that she missed the heyday of the Sexual Revolution. This would be her chance to make up for lost time. Besides, wasn't she holding onto some romantic concept of a happy marriage which only existed in her mind? She wasn't happy. Herschel didn't have a big dick and didn't know how to fuck. And he never would.
Finally she shrugged her shoulders and thought, Why not open my thighs and just let it happen? I've done just about everything else today. It's time for a fuck.
As she felt the black penis start to push its way into her, she looked down at her wedding ring. She should have felt a great spasm of guilt, but instead the only thing that she noticed at that moment was a great spasm of intense pleasure. The head of Leroy's penis was the most wonderful thing she had ever felt. It reinforced her faith in a divine being.
Surely there must be a god. The masterful engineering of the sexual organs proved that.
The inch dipped into her and she couldn't understand why she felt no guilt about what she was doing. She had been married for ten years and had never once cheated on her husband. Never. Could it be that this was the seven year itch-delayed for three years! Could it be that she had been too faithful for too long? Maybe this experience would strengthen her ties to her hubby and rekindle the flames of her marriage.
She turned to her right and looked at Cynthia. The redhead was busy giving Leroy a deep soul kiss. Beth found it hard to believe that a man's tongue could travel that far back into a woman's throat. Leroy seemed to be part lizard along with being part stallion.
Beth thought that it was ironic that at the same time Leroy's tongue was probing downward into Cynthia's throat, his dick was probing upward into her luscious channel. "Hungh!" she moaned as he gave a particularly hefty shove inward, nearly knocking the air out of her lungs. She could barely keep her eyes open-so intense was the pleasure she was experiencing. She could hardly concentrate-her mind seemed to be registering nothing but a blank. All of her mental and physical energies were concentrated on that orifice down there between her thighs. The well of womanhood. The hole of humanity. The tunnel of love. The core of life.
So this is how sex was meant to be, she thought. It's glorious! Absolutely glorious! She began wiggling her ass back, trying to capture more of the huge shaft, while at the same time starting to silently curse her husband. Damn you Herschel for having a small dick! she thought. Damn you to everlasting faggotdom for taking ten years out of my life and giving me nothing in return except bad fucks!
She felt Leroy's strong hands move up under her Kitty Kat costume and reach for her shapely breasts. Ironically, he hadn't bothered with them during the entire evening because he had been so preoccupied with her cunt. She giggled slightly.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Am I finally getting through to this tight vagina of yours?"
"Oh, you're getting through to that, all right. I just noticed that this is the first time all evening that you've touched my breasts."
"Hey! First things first, you know."
"He always goes after the important things first." Cynthia laughed and reached down to stroke his cock as it slid into and out of Beth. It was an incredibly obscene gesture, but erotic as hell. She leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Are you aware of the fact that you have a great big black dick in your pussy?"
Beth turned her head and laughed, "Is that news?" She rocked back on it, aiding him in his fuck.
Leroy was glad to see that she was enjoying her first interracial bout of lovemaking. A lot of white women acted as if they climbed an altar when they had their first taste of black cock, but Beth was reacting the way a woman should: with humor and gaiety. From all appearances, his penis would be visiting this vagina many times in the future.
He hammered away for a while-back and forth, back and forth-watching with interest as she pushed herself back and forth as well. She was really getting into the spirit of the event. Her body was starting to glisten with perspiration. "She was definitely telling the truth about her husband," Leroy said to Cynthia.
"What do you mean?"
"Her cunt is so tight that my dick feels like it's wrapped up in rubber bands."
"That good, huh?" asked Cynthia.
"Ungh-yes-fuck yes! It's that good!" exclaimed Beth. She felt a tremendous release coming from deep within her body. It felt like a freight train had been unleashed in the pit of her stomach and was travelling downward to the core of her cunt. From there, rays of pleasure were radiating outward to all of her erogenous zones, causing her entire body to shake and shiver with pleasure.
This was it! This was a sure-fire gang buster orgasm. This was what she'd anticipated for over a decade of dismal marriage. This is what her cunt had been screaming for ever since she was a pre-adolescent teen.
Her ovaries started to bounce with joy and her entire pubis began to throb with a passion hitherto unknown. She began to feel as if she were one great big vagina stuffed full of one gigantic dick.
Damn those feminists anyway, she thought. Women were meant to be used as sex objects. That's what the shit they were put on earth for. To be fucked by world-class fuckers.
Leroy could feel that he had his penis inside one hot vagina. He was about to say that he had never had better white pussy before, but thought better of it since Cynthia was standing right there. He didn't want to spoil any future chance with the lovely redhead. After all, the blonde beauty might have a relapse of ethics and refrain from open sex. He wanted to keep his options open.
Actually, Cynthia seemed to be getting as many kicks out of this fuck as him. She was as joyous as if he were screwing her instead of Beth.
Cynthia was actually a very strange bird. He didn't entirely understand her. He fucked her in the morning and fucked her in the night, and yet she kept coming back for more. Many married women-once they'd experienced extramarital sex-wanted to try every variation possible, with as many men as possible. But not Cynthia. She was loyal to him. Maybe he didn't appreciate that. Even though he fucked everything he could get his dick into, he worried that maybe he should take time to consider her faithfulness to him. Only a few women possessed this fine attribute. Maybe he should consider a deeper emotional involvement.
Leroy began pumping faster and faster. His dick was moving in and out of Beth at lightning speed. His back was flexing back and forth like a jackhammer. His buttocks were clinching and unclenching like the mouth of a puffer fish. There was little doubt that he was a powerful fucking machine. Too bad they didn't have a sexual Olympics. He would win a gold medal for endurance.
"Hunnngh!" Beth moaned. "Deeper! Deeper! Deeper! I need it deeper inside me. Please! Drive it in! Oh please! Please! Please!"
Leroy did as requested. He was ramming himself so hard into her that he worried about bruising her internal organs. He was especially delighted with her depth. Deeper than Cynthia even. He could get all of his immense penis into her. The sensation of having all of his organ buried was one he couldn't adequately describe. It was sort of like the first time he had ejaculated as a teenager. He never knew such intense feelings could emanate from the penile shaft. Now, he at long last understood another sensation. Full shaft stimulation. He'd have to look this one up in his Master's and Johnson. It certainly beat the girls only having three-quarters of his mighty organ embedded in a female.
"Ah! Ahhhhh!" Beth moaned. "I think I'm gonna have an orgasm. I think I'm gonna have an orgasm at last. Oh hallejujah! Oh mercy!"
A tear welled in Cynthia's eye. Her dear friend had never experienced the joy of a sexual orgasm. Damn that Herschel, anyway. Men with small pricks should be shot to death at the age of sixteen if their dicks weren't longer than eight inches. Women had to suffer if hubbies had short stubbies. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. Everyone knew that a vagina was meant to be stuffed. What was the point of having a tight pussy if only small penises poked around in it?
"Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! I feel it!" Beth screamed. "It's coming! It's coming! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahhhh! Arrrrghhhhhhh!" She had been warned to be quiet, but her screaming was loud enough to wake up the banshees. Cynthia had to put her palms over her ears to muffle the sound.
Leroy too had to cover his ears, but this didn't stop him from giving the final few thrusts before releasing his sperm into her curvaceous white body. "Ahhhh!" he moaned as he spurted his semen into her.
When Cynthia saw that he had made his final assault she turned to Beth and asked, "Well, how do you like my boyfriend?"
Beth slowly opened her eyes from a state of bliss and smiled briefly. She had to speak, but couldn't. She was still in an orgasmic daze, still trying to get control of her mental faculties.
She felt the once massive penis start to shrink in size before Leroy slipped it out of her. It made a loud "plopping" noise-sort of like a moist hot dog being pulled out of the neck of a bottle.
"Ah! The sounds of love," giggled Cynthia.
Beth giggled along with her friend and commented, "It's actually more like the sound of sex."
"Those are the nicest sounds in the world," said Cynthia.
As Leroy wiped himself off with a handkerchief he said, "Come on ladies. Be honest. That was the genuine sound of fucking."
Everyone got a big chuckle out of that as they stepped back from the door and left little petite Anne alone with her huge black lover. Beth couldn't figure out how any female could withstand such a relentless assault. The guy was even bigger than Leroy. She made a mental note to remember the man's face. She hoped that she would get a chance to wait on him next Tuesday.
Beth had trouble walking. Her pussy had never had anything that large shoved into it, and her pelvis had never been spread so wide. She was stepping bow-legged beside Cynthia and Leroy.
Meanwhile, Leroy handed her a sperm-laden handkerchief and said, "Here. Stuff this between your pussy lips. It will absorb some of my sperm."
Beth took the small piece of cloth and did as he requested. She stopped in place, spread her legs a little, and squatted. Since Herschel never shot more than a drop or two into her, it was a totally new experience to have warm rivulets of semen dribbling out of her vagina.
She had no idea where Cynthia and Leroy were leading her, but she liked the close proximity they maintained as they walked along. Cynthia kept her arm wrapped around her waist as did Leroy. It felt remarkable sensual to be sandwiched between the two. Like the filling of a cookie.
She was led to a door at the end of a hallway. Leroy opened it and told her to proceed inward. She didn't hesitate. She wanted to experience all the thrills which this man was apparently going to show her.
Ironically, Cynthia didn't leave them alone. She followed them into the bedroom and around to the bed. Suddenly it dawned on Beth that there might be a menage-a-trois in the works. She had read about such things in novels but had never suspected that she would experience one in real life. She had never made it with a woman before. And yet, one look at the beautiful body of Cynthia told her that if she were going to have a bisexual relationship this was the partner to do it with.
The redhead was absolutely gorgeous. And the longer that Beth looked at her, the more gorgeous she appeared. In many ways she was the mirror image of Beth, but there was something especially sensual about the long red hair that a blonde could never achieve. And the sight of the little triangular pubic patch was especially savory.
Leroy turned to Beth and pulled the last vestiges of the Kitty Kat costume over her head. Now she was just as nude as Cynthia. The two women stood facing each other in deep appreciation of the other's physical assets.
Beth locked her eyes on the redhead's breasts, and Cynthia did the same with Beth's. The nipples were like eyes staring at her. For some unknown reason Beth licked her lips and stepped forward so that she might be closer to her beautiful and bosomy friend.
When they were only a short distance apart, they reached up and petted each other's breasts. But petting wasn't enough. The blonde beauty bent down and kissed Cynthia's upper breast. But that wasn't enough. She lowered her mouth and encaptured the nipple with her lips. For some inexplicable reason she wanted to suck out all the honey contained therein.
She extended her tongue and swirled it around. Clockwise, counterclockwise, up and down, back and forth, each and every way possible. The little nubbin danced across her tongue and lip, swelling and throbbing with passion.
"Ohhhh!" moaned Cynthia as she thrust her breast forward so that Beth could suck on even more of it, offering it as if it were a ripe honey dew melon.
Leroy sat on the bed, watching the action. There was nothing quite like a bisexual scene to recharge his libido. Two beautiful broads, licking and slurping in wanton ecstasy made a great half-time show.
Beth removed her mouth from the nipple and brought her lips to Cynthia's face. She began kissing the redhead passionately. For the first time in her life, all of her inhibitions had been released. All of her sexual fantasies had been fulfilled. She was no longer trapped in the artificial confines of matrimony. Like Cynthia, she was now a free woman, able to make love to whomever she wanted- whenever she wanted. She would no longer be restricted to Herschel and his four-inch penis. Now she wanted more. Much more. Another eight inches to be exact. And she wanted a darker color. Black to be precise. And she didn't want it from an unemployed wimp of a salesman, but rather from a hunk of a mailman.
Something had happened to her in the hallway. Interracial sex had become an accepted form of physical expression. As she kissed Cynthia's lips, she opened her eyes and looked over at Leroy. His dick was erect and standing straight up like a skyscraper. Immediately, Beth broke the kiss with her beautiful friend and stepped back. She needed to get some more of that black cock into her body as rapidly as possible. She wanted more and her cunt wanted more.
The two women stepped over to the bed and looked down at Leroy. They admired him as if he were a black Adonis. He was lying on his back. He was holding his dick in his hand and aiming it at the ceiling.
"Which of you white girls wants to be first?" he asked.
"Hey! That's an unfair question!" Cynthia exclaimed. "Beth already had her share a little while ago. It's my turn."
Beth pouted slightly and said, "But Cynthia, you've been getting stuffed with this magnificent tool for weeks now. I just started tonight. I have a lot of time to catch up on."
"Oh phooey! In the coming weeks you'll get plenty of stuffing-believe me. Leroy can get a hard-on in a moment's notice."
"Very well, you go first," Beth replied. "I'll wait my turn."
"There's no reason for you to wait on the sidelines, pretty lady," replied Leroy. "When Cynthia squats over my dick, you can squat over my face. I'll give you a tonguing that you'll never forget. It'll be something you can tell your grand kids about."
"A tonguing?" she asked. "What are talking about?"
Cynthia and Leroy looked at each other in disbelief. They smiled. "Do you mean to tell me that you've never been tongued?" asked Cynthia.
Beth shook her head, almost ashamed of herself for marrying such a dork of a husband. "No. Herschel never did that to me."
Leroy pounded his fist on the bed and screamed, "My god, woman! What kind of an asshole did you marry anyway? The man must be an absolute jerk to leave a beautiful body like yours unsatisfied. Why is it that so many white guys don't know jack-shit about sex? It's always up to us black guys to teach beauties like you what you're missing."
Cynthia stepped over and put her arm around Beth's shoulders. "You're in for a real treat. Once I get on top of Leroy, you get on top of the bed as well. As I start to lower myself onto his organ, you squat over his face and rub your pussy around, in circles on his mouth. He'll do the rest."
The blonde had to admit that she liked the idea. In fact, she couldn't wait to experience her very first tonguing.
She watched Cynthia climb atop the bed, spread her thighs wide apart, and carefully ease herself downward onto the massive throbbing black penis.
When the beautiful shaft was halfway buried in her vagina, the redhead said, "Okay. Get on top of the bed and face me."
Beth did as she was told, being careful not to poke Leroy in the ribs or stomach with her knees.
"Spread your legs apart and lean your pussy back against his face."
She followed instructions to the letter, but noticed that as she got herself into position her large breasts brushed against Cynthia's. She looked at the redhead and smiled. There was a unique feeling developing between the two women-and it was emanating from the tips of their titties.
Cynthia never felt closer to a female in all of her life. For some reason, nipple touching made her bond to the blonde. Damn! She wished that she and Beth could have been doing this for a longer period of time. The two girls could have had some very pleasant times together. They could have even had fun with that Thailand Basket trick.
Beth squatted back and rubbed her pussy in Leroy's face. She felt his tongue extend and begin to lap away at her nether regions. "Ohhh!" she moaned. "That feels good. So very, very, good."
Leroy was slurping away at the blonde muff. He had to admit that she had the tastiest snatch that he had ever stuck his face into. He could lie like this for hours and lap away and never grow tired of her.
"Oooooh!" cooed Beth as she rotated her hips wildly. "Unnngh! That's great."
Meanwhile, Cynthia was moving up and down on Leroy's massive organ. Her pussy was swallowing it as if it hadn't been stuffed with cock since she was a teenager. And she wasn't satisfied simply having her cunt filled, she wanted her mouth to be stuffed as well. She leaned forward and began to nurse on Beth's left breast.
Beth now understood why oral sex had become such an important addition to marriage and the primary benefit of the Sexual Revolution. She didn't know how she had done without it for all of these years. When she got home she would have to tell Herschel all about it. She smiled when she realized that would be impossible. She could never walk up to her husband and say, "Guess what, honey? I got fucked by the black mailman today. He had a dick the size of a horse, the staying power of a stallion, and a tongue like a Galapagos lizard." No, that just wouldn't be appropriate. Or, at least she didn't think it would be appropriate. Maybe if she thought about it overnight, she could figure out a way how to tell him.
She turned and watched Cynthia move around on the massive organ. The redhead was going at it like a natural. She resembled an oil well going up and down, up and down, up and down, over and over again.
She looked between her friends thighs and watched the pussylips stretch wide on the instroke, and suck hard on the outstroke. What a wonderful creation the pussy was. Able to take that hard shaft into it, and yet remain feminine looking. There surely must be a God. Anyone who doubted His existence was obviously a virgin. Only virgins were idiots.
She began to feel Leroy bathing her clitoris with his tongue. He moved his pelvis back slightly so that he could have greater access. The little bud of hers was standing up on its own. It had never done that for Herschel.
Fuck Herschel! she thought with anger in her voice. He could beat off from now on as far as she was concerned.
"Ummmmm! Ahhhhh! Unnnggh!" moaned Cynthia. Her cheeks had flushed and her cheeks had swollen during the past few minutes. Beth watched in fascination as her friend's tummy moved in and out rapidly.
"Ummmm! Ahhh! Unghhh!" she moaned again.
Ironically, all of this moaning was causing Beth to become excited. She began to vigorously rotate her crotch against Leroy's face, wanting him to jab more of his tongue into her. She wanted him to stick it all the way into her womb. She wished that he were a snake and he could crawl up inside of her. Ummmm! A nice rattler would be nice. Or, better yet-a python. A full grown python-not a baby.
"Ahhhh! I don't believe this," said Beth. "I feel like a New Orleans slut."
"Huh! Ungh! Huh!" moaned Cynthia, as if asking a question. "I'm going to have another orgasm. I'm gonna cum again."
"Ahhh! Huh! Ungh! Wait!" Beth pleaded. "Hold on and I'll do it with you. It'll be better that way."
The two women started wiggling their asses as if they were spring loaded. Each had an intense orgasm. Their bodies shook with their individual release. Each felt it from the top of her forehead to the tips of her toes.
Leroy continued to pummel away. He was literally drilling his organ into Cynthia's hole-pushing and shoving it as if it were an assault weapon. Finally, after what seemed like a thousand strokes, he released a loud-"Arrrrggggghhhh!" It was an animal-like yell he gave whenever he exploded.
The sperm shot deep into Cynthia's womb and then cascaded back down around his mighty shaft and then out onto his massive balls. So much went up into her that she felt as if she had a hose momentarily thrust up her snatch and turned on full blast.
Meanwhile Leroy had a great deal of vaginal spend on his face and neck from Beth's release, coating his entire face with a viscous-like substance. As he was wiping it away, he realized that some of it was his own sperm. My goodness but he was getting nasty in his old age!
Beth slowly sat back on the headboard with her legs spread wide. She spread them wider still to lewdly display her gash to Cynthia's gaze.
Cynthia still had Leroy's cock deep in her cunt when he saw what Beth was doing. She smiled broadly and started climbing her way up Leroy's body. She wanted to get nearer the beautiful blonde muff which was staring her straight in the face, drawing her forward like a tractor beam.
Leroy slipped out from underneath her and rolled onto the floor. He was completely exhausted.. He couldn't take anymore pussy if it were given to him on a silver platter. There was no doubt that he was finished for the night. His dick needed a rest. His balls needed to manufacture more sperm. Hopefully these lovely ladies would still be around in the morning so he could poke them a few times before he began his mail route. And then later in the day when he delivered the mail he would poke them a few more times-and then maybe next Tuesday night at the Kitty Kat Club ... his mind was filled with pleasing images.
Meanwhile, on the bed, Cynthia was kissing Beth's beautiful muff. "Ohhh! You're so beautiful, Beth. I never thought that a woman could be so lovely. And you smell so good-down here-between your thighs. You have the aroma of the morning honeysuckle-rich and fragrant.
She stuck out her tongue and ran it up and down the length of the slit-first on side, and then on the other. Mmm! It really did taste like honey-a thick syrupy brand-with a little bit of salty cinnamon flavoring thrown in. No wonder men referred to it as a 'honeypot'. Of course, it resembled an oyster.
Cynthia almost broke out laughing at that thought. She remembered how her parents had such a hard time getting her to eat oysters. If momma would have only gotten on top the dinner table and would have showed her snatch to the family, all the kids would have eaten more oysters.
She wiggled the tongue from flange to flange and dipped it in the hole time and again. They said that blondes tasted the best. She was sure of it now. This particular snatch was rich and fragrant without having any bitter aftertaste.
Beth drew her legs up and wrapped them around Cynthia's face. She thrust her pelvis forward slightly so that Cynthia could have better access to her nether regions.
"Nice appetizer we're having here," said Cynthia with a grin between licks.
"Appetizer! Hell!" Beth said with a loud laugh. "That's the main course-complete with gravy."
Cynthia loved Beth's nasty sense of humor. There was nothing better than having a sexual partner who could joke around and have a good time during sex.
Unbeknownst to anyone in the room, Herschel had come to the Kitty Kat Club to see about his wife. He wondered why she hadn't come home yet. After all, it was nearly closing time and she was supposed to be released an hour ago.
He looked around and was surprised to see that the main lounge was nearly empty at midnight. After all, on most other nights of the week it was swinging until two or three o'clock in the morning.
He couldn't find anyone in the lounge area, so he went walking around the premises by himself. He went down a back hallway, passing door after door, but not hearing or seeing anyone. Just as he was preparing to give up he heard a familiar voice coming from a closed door at the end of the hallway. "Unngh! Keep doing that. Oh! Oh! Oh! Yea, that's good. Oh yea. Keep that up. Wow! That's good. Ohhhhh!"
He listened intently, trying to ascertain if this was in fact the voice of his wife. When he was certain, he began wondering what she was doing. She seemed to be cooing almost, going on and on, saying how much she liked something.
He didn't think that he would be disturbing anything, so he opened the door to catch a glimpse of what she was raving about.
He caught a glimpse all right. In fact he got a full wide-angle, Panavision, freeze-frame, Technicolor glimpse.
"Oh my god!" he said, as he stood absolutely motionless. He couldn't believe it! His wife had her legs spread apart at a 180 degree angle and was being eaten out by Fred's wife!
The redhead was lapping away like crazy, shamelessly. She turned her head and looked at him. She merely smiled. "C'mon! You're missing a great party. Care to join us?"
He knew nothing about Leroy being there because the black man had rolled onto the other side of the bed. He expected his wife to get up and run yearningly to his arms and say, "Thank you, darling. You've saved me from this horribly wicked dyke, Cynthia. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
But she did nothing of the sort. Indeed, she didn't move a muscle. That is, unless you count the fact that she spread her legs even wider, so that her tendons showed that much more. When it became apparent that she was enjoying the situation as much as Cynthia, he said, "My goodness, Beth! What has gotten into you? Are you on drugs or something?"
She stretched her arms above her head, thrusting her magnificent breasts out for display, and said, "A twelve-inch dick and a six inch tongue has gotten into me. And you know what? I feel wonderful."
"Beth!" he shouted. "Have you no shame?"
She narrowed her eyes and looked at him. "Have you none?"
"What do you mean?" he asked in a confused tone of voice.
"All these years I've been getting screwed by a worthless lover-a man who didn't even know how to use his dick to make his wife happy. You should be ashamed. To think that I cooked and cleaned and made house for you, and all I wanted was a little affection every evening-and what the hell did I get? The lousiest lover this side of the Mason-Dixon line! To think that I was always there for you-always ready for love-and you couldn't even give me the time of day. You should be ashamed. I kept my body fit for you. I ate properly for you. I remained faithful to you. I kept our marriage vows for ten long years-and what did I get! A four inch dick. And how often did I get it in me? Maybe once a month. And how long did each session of intercourse last? Maybe five minutes-at most. And you have the audacity to say that I should be ashamed? Fuck you-you revolting piece of slime."
"Yes. Fuck you," said Cynthia between laps.
"Get away from her you lousy bitch," Herschel screamed. "If you don't I'll ... I'll ... I'll beat your face in."
He started to walk towards the bed, but just as he got close Leroy stood up and said, "I wouldn't do anything stupid if I were you."
"Who's this?" said Herschel, stopping dead in his tracks as he looked at the black man towering above him.
"Honey, you know the mailman, don't you?" she said with a smile. "Leroy, this is my husband. He has a very small dick."
A look of horror washed across his face. "What! How dare you!" said Herschel. "You've turned into a bitch or something. My dick's plenty big!"
"Does yours compare with this?" asked Leroy as he reached down and grabbed a hold of his penis and shook it.
Herschel looked at it and gasped. He had never seen anything that large in all of his life. The thing was as big as the Polish sausage that Mr. Marconi used to keep in his butcher shop window. Surely the black fellow didn't put that thing into his wife! She would be dead if he had.
But the look on Leroy's face told another story. Without being told Herschel realized that black penis had been inside his wife's pussy. That black shaft had shot hot sperm into his wife's womb. Their reproductive organs had been joined together and had danced the rhythm of love.
Suddenly Herschel felt sick at his stomach. He felt revolted. He felt betrayed. His marriage was over. His matrimonial vows had been beaten into a pulp. He had been ridiculed in his wife's presence. And he finally learned why tips were so good at the Kitty Kat Club.
He took another look at Leroy's massive organ and felt a chill run down his spine. How could he possibly compete with a penis that size? His wife would never return to him unless he had an equally large shaft. And there was little likelihood that his would grow anymore at the age of thirty-five. Oh shit! It was time to start purchasing those penis enlargement devices which ran in the back of men's magazines.
Oh! Herschel felt his penis shrink and shrivel away. Even his testicles were drawn up inside his body as if admitting defeat in the black man's presence, wanting to hide in shame. He even dropped his hands in front of his genitals to cover them. He was ashamed.
Beth smiled when she saw his hands move to the lower half of his torso. Her wimp husband had finally been put in his place. At long last she was liberated. At long last she was free.
"Cynthia honey, why don't you put your pussy up here on my face so I can tongue you out. Then Leroy can have room to do me one more time. Is that okay with you, Leroy?"
Leroy wanted to tell her "no," because he didn't think he could manufacture anymore sperm. But the sight of her lovely body spread out before him made him change his mind. "Your wish is my command, darling."
Herschel couldn't bear to look. A black man was going to mount his beautiful white wife. Oh what was the world coming to? Surely this wasn't what was meant by "integration". He would have never been such a dedicated supporter of the civil rights movement if it were.
Still, he had to admit that he found the sight of a black male pushing himself between a white female's thighs quite erotic. He was even getting a hard-on-albeit, nothing quite like that of Leroy's.
His wife spread her thighs as wide as possible and Leroy eased himself into her cute little tight cunt. They seemed like old hands at this. They seemed to know where everything fit.
His wife twisted her torso and pushed her pelvis down onto the shaft, aiding him with his entry and placing her hands behind her buttocks, shoving them forward as if offering her entire pelvic region a gift. The organ pushed into her like a black knife pushing into a soft stick of butter.
He heard his wife gasp as if in pain, but Herschel soon realized that it was a gasp of pure unadulterated pleasure. It was a strange sound to him, for he had never heard it in his ten years of marriage to her. Never. And her face was a sheer mask of ecstasy. Every facial muscle was contorted with lust. He mouth gaped open, he eyes glazed over, and her nostrils flared. She seemed to be saying the word silently, "Cock! Cock! Cock! Sex! Sex! Sex! Give it to me!"
Cynthia wasted no time. She positioned her crotch directly over Beth's face. She slowly lowered her pelvis. And on the way down she played with his wife's titties.
Crap! thought Herschel. It seemed that everyone in the neighborhood was getting some pleasure out of his beautiful wife except for him. Well, he would fix that.
He reached down and unzipped himself. He whipped out his little four-inch penis and started whacking off. Ha! He'd show her. He could get just as much pleasure out of sex as she could. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! went his hand up and down like a child's toy.
Cynthia looked over and smiled. Yes, Beth had truly married a fucking dork. The poor guy equated masturbation with sexual fulfillment. Pity. The poor guy was meant for the scrap heap of life.
Beth began moaning. She couldn't believe all the sensations she was feeling. Her entire body was alive with a passion it had never known before. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around Leroy's massive black torso. She held onto him with all of her strength. She didn't want to let him go for anything. Never! Never! Never! She wanted him inside of her deeper than he'd ever been before. All the way into her womb.
Leroy tried to please her by pounding into her incessantly. He wouldn't ejaculate as much into her as he had earlier, but he would give her a liquid soaking nevertheless. Besides, he wanted to perform for Herschel. He wanted the hubby to know what a real fuck was.
And Cynthia was rotating her pelvis with as much energy as she could muster. She wasn't interested in putting on a show. She was simply interested in sexual gratification.
Herschel was beating off as he had never beaten off before. His hand was getting sore from moving up and down so much. He penis was starting to blister. He was beginning to pant. He worried about calluses.
At precisely the same time that his wife gave out the third tremendous orgasm of the night, Herschel screamed at the top of his lungs. "Oh fuck!"
And when he released his scream, Cynthia released hers, shouting exactly the same words, "Oh fuck!"
And at long last, Leroy gave out his, shouting, "Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
Just then the door opened and the owner of the Kitty Kat Club stepped through the door, looked around, and shouted, "What the fuck is going on in here?"
Cynthia, Beth, and Leroy all turned their heads and said, "Oh! We're sorry! We were merely using this bed ... to get to know each other better."
Nathan looked at them and said, "I'm not talking about you guys. Go back to fucking and sucking. I'm talking about this nerd with his wiener in his hand. What are you doing here-buddy?"
"Er ... ah ... I was just ... enjoying things."
"Well, get the fuck out of my club. I don't need wimpy looking masturbators on my premises. Go down the street to the Hellcats Club. They're gay oriented. You should fit in well there."
"Now, just-a cotton-picking minute," Herschel said, trying to defend himself, "I have just as much right to be here as anyone. That's my wife over there."
Nathan turned and said, "Which one?"
"The blonde."
The owner looked at her and smiled. "I'll be damned. She's the good-looking chick I interviewed this morning. She's got the best looking pussy I've seen in a long time."
So, an arrangement was worked out whereby Herschel got to stay. As long as he remained in the corner and beat his penis, and didn't bother anybody, he could watch the orgy on the bed. And for the remainder of the night he did. Cynthia being reamed by Leroy. Beth being reamed by Nathan. Cynthia and Beth going at it sixty-nine style. Cynthia, Nathan, Beth, and Nathan in a daisy chain. Beth, Leroy, Cynthia, and Nathan in another daisy chain. Two beautiful white women, two handsome black men, fucking and sucking, and banging and wanging all night long.
Ah yes, Beth and Cynthia continued to work at the Kitty Kat Club, and Black Night became their favorite night. And every day they would wait anxiously in the front living room for their special mail delivery.
And to assist Leroy on his route, they sometimes waited together so that he could knock off two pieces at one stop. They considered it a patriotic duty to help the mail go through.
