Birthday - Part 3

"What's on your mind, Michelle?"

Chad was driving me home from the ice cream shoppe.  I had asked
my parents if Chad could drive me home, and they had agreed to
take my other friends home.

My thoughts were still chaotic.  My mother had masturbated in
front of me from the extreme arousal of sucking off an anonymous
black man.  I had watched my friend being fucked in an alley by
another black man, one I knew.

It was all very confusing.  It was all very shocking.  And - I
was slowly admitting to myself - it was all very fascinating.

"You okay?" Chad asked, looking concerned.  "You've been quiet
all night."

"I'm okay," I replied, looking at him briefly.  I returned my
gaze to the road, trying to ignore the fact that my panties were
soaked through, and trying not to think about what I'd seen.  I
could do neither.

"Chad?" I asked, quietly.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Can we stop at the school?"

"Sure.  Any reason?"

"We'll talk about it when we get there," I said.

5 minutes later, we were there.  The parking lot was deserted.  I
got out of the car, telling Chad to follow me.

I led him to a grove of trees near the dining area.  It was
secluded and dark.  We stood for a few moments before he said,
"What was it you wanted to talk about?"

I didn't say anything in reply.  I just turned around and
presented my ass to him.  I unbuttoned my jeans and slipped them
and my panties down past my knees.  I put my hands on a tree and
arched my ass at him.

Silence for a second.  Then I heard Chad unzip his pants.  He
stepped behind me, his breath hot on my neck.  I felt his hard
cock slide around my wet pussy lips.  It slipped in without a
problem.  It felt good.

I pushed back at him as he thrust into me.  I felt his hardness
inside me, felt it thrust into me, penetrate me.  I liked the
feeling, but it didn't send me into ecstasy, the way that Jill
seemed to like Mr. Johnson.  And then, as usual, Chad pulled out.
 "I'm close," he panted.  I turned around and finished him with
my hand, as he finished me with his.  It was pleasant, as usual.

He dropped me off.  "Thanks for the birthday present," I said, as
he kissed me goodnight.

"No, thank YOU," he said, smiling.  I went inside.

Papa was in bed already.  Mom - Candy - was sitting up in the
living room.  She was watching some rap video on BET.  Her eyes
drank in the muscular eye-candy.  "Did you have a good time with
Chad?" she asked me.

"It was all right," I said, sitting down next to her on the
couch.

"'All right,'" she repeated.  "I remember when 'all right' was
enough.  I also remember when I understood that it wasn't
enough."

I sat there silently for a few minutes, thinking about what she
and Jill had revealed to me about themselves.  I noticed my
mother's breathing getting a little faster, a little heavier, and
realized that she was getting really turned on by the black men
on the television.

"Mom - I mean, Candy?"

"Yes dear?"

"Jill...she's a 'slave,' too?  You recruited her?"

"Yes dear.  Did she tell you?"

"Yeah.  She said she couldn't say much else.  I saw her with Mr.
Johnson."

"Oh, Mr. Johnson.  He's one of my favorites.  He's almost a foot
long, you know."

"Oh my God!  That's impossible!"

"It's quite possible, dear."  She smiled.  "Very possible, very
pleasurable."

"Why did you recruit Jill?  How did you know she'd go for it?"

"I recruited her for a number of reasons, dear.  First of all,
each slave is required to recruit at least one new slave every
year."

"So you've recruited...14 girls?"

"I've recruited 25.  It's remarkably easy, in many ways.  Jill
was easy to spot.  You ever notice how she dresses?"

I nodded.  A lot of short skirts, tight jeans.

She continued, "Did you ever notice how she kept dressing like
that after she started dating Jerry?  How her outfits got even
more provacative?"

I had noticed, as a matter of fact.

"You kids think we grownups don't see what you're up to, but it's
pretty obvious to everyone that Jerry and Jill 'playing doctor'
at lot.  But a woman who's being satisfied doesn't get more
daring in her dress, unless her man wants her to...and Jerry
doesn't seem like the type."

"He's not.  They've had fights over it," I remarked.

Mom nodded.  "Jill obviously needs sex.  She was getting plenty
from Jerry, I guessed, but it wasn't satisfying her.  I figured
she was ripe for the plucking, so to speak."  She chuckled. 
"I'll bet Mr. Johnson satisfied her tonight.  He always satisfies
me."

"You've been with Mr. Johnson?"

"Oh yes, dear.  A number of times.  He wasn't at my initiation -
he wasn't in the Society at the time - but he was at Jill's."

"Were you there, too?"

"Why yes, dear.  As her recruiter, I was the designated fluffer
and pie plate."

"Uhhh...I don't know what that means," I said, unsure of if I
wanted to know.

"It's very simple, dear.  My job was keep the initiators hard,
which is what we call 'fluffing.'  And for part of her
initiation, Jill had to 'clean a pie plate.'  In other words, she
had to suck the cum out of me - all three of my holes - and lick
me clean."

"You mean you and Jill...?"

"...have eaten each other's pussies?  Yes dear.  Our Daddies love
it.  Last month, I took 10 loads in my cunt and Jill sucked it
right out of me.  I returned the favor, of course - she's a tasty
little thing, at that."

Mom's breathing got a little heavier, and I noticed that she had
started rubbing her thighs together, the way I had after my first
several dates with Chad, who had gotten fresh very quicly, if not
skillfully..  She was only dressed in an old t-shirt of my
father's, and I could smell her starting to get wet.  I kept
quiet, unsure of where to go next.  She broke the silence.

"Michelle, you keep asking questions.  As Candy, I am required to
answer all questions, but that's not all I'm allowed to do as
your recruiter."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm allowed to do anything that will help you make your decision
about giving yourself over to the Society.  The only thing I
can't do is reveal any Society member or Candys' identities
without their clearance or put anyone's safety at risk."

"Aside from that, anything?" I asked, my curiousity piqued.

"Anything."

I thought for a few moments.  It was a little after 10pm.  What
could she possibly do?

"I know what I could do!" she said, snapping her fingers.  "Would
you like me to call up a hot black stud for you?  That's a common
request."

"That's...a bit much, Candy."

"How about if I call one up for myself?  That way, I can scratch
my itch and you can see one in action."

"I already saw one in action," I replied.  Then, a little slowly,
"but I wouldn't mind seeing another one like that."

Mom smiled, that gleam in her eye getting stronger.  "Tell you
what, dear," she said, a little smugly, "how about we kill two
birds with one stone?  I've talked about belonging to the
Society, how I'm at their beck and call - but belonging to them
means that they are virtually at my beck and call, as well. 
Let's go out, and I'll show you what it means to belong to
someone who wants you so much that you virtually own them."

----------

Half an hour later, we were driving towards the downtown area of
our city. We were both dressed in short halter dresses that my
mother dug out from an apparently secret stash.  She had insisted
that I put one on and also wear my trial member jewelry.  I had
protested that I was only going along to watch, but only very
weakly.  I had, however, put on underwear - a strapess bra and
matching thong.  "Candy" did not, I noticed.

I was quiet as we pulled out of the driveway.  I was taking a
step towards something seemingly dangerous.  I didn't consciously
want to - but a compulsion pulled at me, made me put on the sexy
little dress my mother had handed me, made me put on the jewelry
that was a siren song to certain virile black men.

I pulled at the hem of the short black dress, which barely
covered the tops of my thighs when I sat down.  After a few
minutes of thought, I asked the question that had been burning in
my mind.

"Candy?"

"Yes, dear?"

"The Society...I mean, um...how did - you know - get started?"

------------

It was fourteen years ago.  You were just a toddler.  I was 23.

You probably don't remember, but we were robbed one night.  You,
me, and your father came home from a weekend at your
grandparents' farm and found the place ransacked.  Fortunately,
most of the really valuable stuff was in our safe deposit box in
the bank, but the burglers made off with our TV and stereo and
other things.

We called the police, and they sent over a couple of patrolmen
and a detective.  One of the patrolmen was a very handsome, very
tall, very big and muscular black man.  He towered a full head
over your father, and my head barely reached the middle of his
chest.  I had to tilt my head back to speak to him while he took
my statement.

We had put you to bed, and your father was busy with the
detective and other patrolman in the other side of the house,
going over what was missing.  Officer William and I were in the
kitchen alone.  I was pretty shaken up, and when I started to
lose it, he stepped in and gave me what I'm sure was meant to be
a quick hug.

Once I was in his stong arms, though, I wrapped my arms around
his waist, needing some human contact.  Through my haze, I
noticed how built he was, how strong and protective he was, how
safe I felt in his arms - and yet, it felt dangerous.  Here I
was, a faithful housewife who had only been with two men before
marrying your father, and I was in the arms of a strange man, a
strange BLACK man.  I couldn't explain it - it just felt right to
be there. He could have torn in me in two with those arms of his
- but he just held me and let me know that I was safe.

After a little bit, we broke the hug, and I sat back down.  He
stood over me and asked me if I was all right.  When I lifted my
head to answer him, I was struck again by how tall he was.  He
was standing over me, not six inches away from me, and he was
looking at me in some way I couldn't figure out.  I couldn't
break the gaze - I felt compelled to look at him, and when we had
just stared at each other for what felt like an hour, he reached
out with his hand and caressed my hair.  "I love blondes," he
said, with his hand gathering up my ponytail.  It felt wrong -
like I was being violated - but it also felt right, and when he
had all of my ponytail in his hand, he reached out with his other
hand and stroked my face.

I don't why I let him.  I just know that all of a sudden, I was
no longer afraid, and that I wanted him to touch me.  His big
hand could almost cover my face.  His thumb stroked my lips, and
I opened my mouth and let him slip it in. His thumb was bigger
than your father's cock, and without thinking about it, I licked
it gently, looking into his dark eyes the entire time.

He took his thumb out of my mouth and his other hand re-angled my
head so that I was staring at the crotch of his pants.  It looked
like he had slipped his nightstick down his uniform - something
long and thick and HARD was pressing against the inside of his
pants about halfway down to his knee.  He saw that I was staring
at what must have been his cock, and let go of my ponytail.  I
kept looking, hypnotized.  I reached out to touch it, and he
moved away very quickly, chuckling a little.  When I looked back
up at him, ready for what, I wasn't sure, he was smiling.

"Here's my card," he said, taking one out of his wallet.  I
reached out to take it, and he pushed my hand away.  He stood me
up, turned me around, pulled out the waistband of my jeans, and
slipped it down the back of my panties.  He then left the kitchen
to rejoin the other policemen.

In the bathroom, I looked at the card.  It simply had a phone
number.  I almost flushed it down the toilet, but something made
me just hide it in my makeup kit.  My panties were drenched.

The next day, your father stayed home to fix a few broken things
and start dealing with the insurance.  I kept fishing out Officer
William's card and looking at it.  I kept thinking about what it
had felt like in his arms and how big his cock must have been.  I
couldn't stop myself from thinking about it.  In the shower, I
could barely refrain from masturbating.  It was dirty, dirty,
dirty to have done such things, I thought.  I was a good wife, a
good mother.  I couldn't be thinking about doing dirty things
with this stranger, this big, muscular stranger, this big BLACK
man with the big BLACK cock.

The day after, you father went back to work.  You were sleeping -
quiet, as usual.  I had been hiding the card in my panties, where
Officer William had put it.  I kept feeling it against my ass and
thinking about him.

Almost unwillingly, I called the number.  He picked up.

"Hello Candy," he said.  No hellos, no greetings, nothing.  "Did
you miss your Daddy?"

I couldn't breath.  "Yes," I whispered.  "Candy misses her
Daddy."  I finally understood what he knew already.

"I'll be there in ten," he said, and hung up.

I barely had time to get you down to Mrs. Johnson's.  She lived a
few doors around the corner and watched you sometimes when I went
to the store.  That's where I told her I was going, but it wasn't
really.  I went straight home.  I sat at the kitchen table.  I
left the door unlocked.

When he came in, my big, strong, black Daddy, I was shaking with
fear and nervousness and anticipation and NEED.  He looked at me
sitting in the kitchen, and without a word, went to the master
bedroom.  I followed him in there.

He stood there, and when he snapped his fingers, I dropped to my
knees and started rubbing my face in his crotch.  I felt that
giant black cock through his uniform pants and came when I
realized that I probably couldn't get my hand around it.

He snapped his fingers again, and I took him out and sucked him
until he came all over my face.  He stayed hard, and snapped his
fingers again.  I stripped him, then me, and laid down on the
bed, my legs wide open.  He fucked me for the next three hours,
and when we were done and he was gone and his cum was soaking
into the mattress through the sheets as it dripped from my aching
pussy, I knew that I was hooked on something I had never dreamt
about before.  I had cum before he touched me.  I had cum when
his fingers brushed my inner thigh.  I had cum when he kissed me.
 I had cum when I felt his cock spray cum all over my face.  I
had cum when his cock had touched my belly.  That was six orgasms
before he had even touched my pussy.  Even before he had worked
his cock into me, I knew that I needed more black cock.

During the entire time he was there, he never called me by my
name.  He just called me "Candy" and "white slut" and "whore" and
"bitch" while that huge cock of his stretched my poor pussy out.


He had left another card, this one with a different phone number.
 He didn't tell me anything about it - just said that "white
sluts know what they need" and handed me the card.  I had to
scramble to clean up the bedroom and get the smell of sex and cum
out of the air before your father came home.

The very next day, after I had masturbated to five orgasms
thinking about my "Daddy," I called the number on the other card.
 That night, after telling your father that I was going to check
out a book club, I received my initiation as a slave to the
Society.