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From: jimmy@jimmy-hat.com (Jimmy Hat)
Subject: {Jimmy Hat} NEW: Unexceptional  <*> 
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This work contains graphic depictions of sex acts.
Please do not continue if this makes you uncomfortable,
or violates laws in your part of the world.

This story is Copyright 1999 by Jimmy Hat (jimmy@jimmy-hat.com)
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Unexceptional

The motel room was more like an apartment. There was a small 
kitchenette in the corner, complete with a sink, combination 
microwave and toaster-oven, gas range, and mini-fridge. Next to 
the kitchenette a small hall led to the bathroom and opened into 
the bedroom, although only the bath had its own door. So the 
first room inside the door was a lounge area with a television, 
sofa, and a card table with four chairs.

The motel was a motor lodge close to the airport used by 
salesmen, and other transients with expense accounts. This time, 
the expense account belonged to the FBI, and Agents Maytag and 
Stanton had arranged things for their needs.

The chairs stood side-by-side facing the door, a third faced the 
opposite way in a makeshift position for interviewing. 

Gerald Maytag shook hands with the man who had just introduced 
himself as Anson Peters. "Good to meet you, Anson," said Maytag, 
"Please have a seat. This is Heather."

Maytag gestured to his right, unbuttoned his jacket and sat down 
at the table. Heather Stanton rose from the sofa, brushed 
herself off, then straightened the back of her navy skirt before 
shaking hands with Anson and sitting down next to her partner.

"Hi, Anson," said Stanton, "I hope you don't mind if we ask you 
a few questions."

The Texas authorities had linked together several racially 
motivated attacks that had occurred in the last few months. Two 
of the victims were single white females in their late twenties, 
one related case involved a black man in his early twenties, and 
the other incident involved a married white couple in their 
early thirties. One woman, the last, had been threatened, the 
others suffered minor property damage. The first attack happened 
in Dallas, the next in Austin, and the last in nearby Irving, 
Texas. 

In each case, the victim had placed a personal ad expressing 
interest in meeting a black man for an interracial sexual 
encounter. In one case,the woman arranged to meet several 
respondents in a public place. The assailant vandalized her car 
in the parking lot, slashed the rear driver's side tire of a man 
who responded to the ad and met her that night, and left 
vilifying notes on their wind-shields. Authorities believed the 
same method of operation was used to track the married couple 
back to their house, where the attacker spray-painted racist 
epithets on their garage.

The attacker had grown bolder. In the last incident attributed 
to the same perpetrator, the victim told police that a white 
man, wearing dark glasses and a putty nose, had actually arrived 
at her hotel room and lectured her on the evils of miscegeny. 
Although he did not physically assault her, he left a 
threatening note and ran out when the woman reached the phone 
and asked the hotel operator for help.

The Texas Rangers asked the FBI for assistance, and in response, 
Maytag and Stanton flew to Dallas. There they determined that in 
all likelihood the attacker would grow more bold and more 
violent. While the local police and state law enforcement kept 
surveillance on the known victims, Maytag and Stanton arranged 
for a set of ads in local papers designed to flush out the 
attacker. 

		      THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN
		      is a small cock. Need
		      BM to satisfy 30ish
		      MWF. Hubby watches.

			DARK KNIGHT
		      w/long lance wanted to
		      save WF from too-short
		      ivory towers. Age open.

			VANILLA NEEDS CHOCOLATE
		      Fit 30s WC seeks DDF
		      endowed BM for first
		      time fling.

Arrangements were made to meet the respondents at the Motor 
Lodge in the hopes that the perpetrator would repeat his latest 
attack.

Maytag and Stanton were about to explain this to Anson, when he 
stood and said, "I know what you want to ask me, and I got your 
answer right here."

Anson then pulled down the elastic waist band of his shiny warmup 
pants and lifted his shirt. His cock was in full view of the two 
FBI agents. Its thick base extended out from his short curls, 
then bent under the effects of gravity and hung over his balls 
and beyond them. The wrinkled skin and sheer length resembled a 
dark elephant's trunk. A lighter, cafe-au-lait tip extended just 
past the circular aperture of his espresso foreskin.

Maytag and Stanton simply stared while Anson went on, "Now this 
generous display of black manhood is yours for the taking, but 
this panther does require some care and feeding. So I'm going to 
have to ask you to compensate me for my time, dig? As in, two 
bills for the lady, and an additional Benjamin if you want to 
hang out or join in, Casper."

Maytag cleared his throat and said, "I hate to disappoint you, 
Anson, but we're with the FBI."

"I feel disappointed, too," said Stanton under her breath.

Anson cursed, pulled up his pants and ran for the door. Maytag 
stopped him before he reached the door, told him he was not in 
any trouble, and explained the situation.

"Are we cool?" asked Maytag after relating the details.

"Yeah, I'm cool," said Anson, "But if that motherfucker touches 
my shit I'm not waiting for you two to show up on the scene. 
That cracker's going to get himself hurt."

Anson left, and Maytag let out a long sigh. "That was 
unexpected," he said.

"And rather impressive," Stanton said.

"I meant his solicitation and subsequent attempt to flee," said 
Maytag, "I see you were thinking of something else."

"As if you didn't notice the size of that thing?" asked Stanton.

"I thought size wasn't everything," Maytag said mockingly.

"Have you ever heard me say that?" asked Stanton, her blue eyes 
wide open.

"You, personally? No," he said with a slight smile. 

"So you've heard that line before, huh?"

"Enough of this already," said Maytag, "we have some work to 
do."

The second appointment began when a black man in his late 
thirties knocked on the door. Maytag answered the door and 
invited the man in with a polite, "Hello, you must be Darnell."

"Yes, and you must be Gerry," replied Darnell with a firm 
handshake. Darnell moved across the room to Stanton's position, 
and smiled. His smile stood in bright contrast to the dark 
somber tones of his button-down shirt and slacks.

"I'm Heather," said Stanton, extending her hand and a smile of 
her own.

"I'm charmed," said Darnell. 

"Please, sit down," said Maytag. "I want to apologize for 
looking so formal, but we thought that might set the right 
atmosphere."

"That's no problem," said Darnell with an easy laugh, "This is 
your show, dress like you want. It does look like some sort of 
job interview, though."

Maytag and Stanton enjoyed a laugh as well. That's almost 
certainly what this looked like, with Stanton in her power suit, 
and Maytag in his jacket and tie sitting across the table from 
Darnell.

"Well," said Maytag, "We actually haven't been completely honest 
with you, here. To avoid some of the -" Maytag looked over at 
Stanton, and was greeted by a raised eyebrow "- earlier 
embarrassment we've had, we want to come clean with you right 
away."

"That's a relief," said Darnell, "I actually have a separate 
agenda coming here as well."

"Is that so?" said Stanton.

"Absolutely. You see, when I saw your ad, I must say that it 
struck me as having a somewhat confused and stereotypical view 
of the black man."

"Look," began Maytag, "About that-"

"No," interrupted Darnell, "Don't apologize. I understand. 
Society perpetuates myths about the black man's sexual appetite 
and prowess. Not to mention physical endowment."

"About the ad," said Maytag.

"Hey," Darnell interjected, "I know you just want to indulge in 
a fantasy here, but by holding these views you only continue the 
system of bias that has been responsible for years of oppression 
in this country. The image of the well hung black man turning 
white women into wanton creatures of lust only results in blacks 
being hung in a much less flattering manner."

"Darnell!" pleaded Maytag.

"So I answer personal ads seeking this myth in order to talk to 
people, and prove that not all black men are over large mandingos 
who can't wait to have their way with a blue-eyed blond-haired 
white woman. The fact is, my penis is average in size, at best."

"That's not what we're here for," said Stanton, enjoying her own 
double entendre, "You see-"

"Darnell," Maytag said abruptly, "What if I don't believe you?"

"What?" exclaimed Stanton.

"I'm just asking," said Maytag.

"Allow me to show you," said Darnell as he stood from the table 
and began to unbuckle his belt. Soon his pants and briefs were 
around his ankles, but the shirttail obscured the central part 
of Darnell's thesis. 

"Sorry about that," he said, and then he began to unfasten his 
shirt. With every button, Darnell revealed more of his chest.

His skin was a rich brown that gave his muscles luster in the 
light of the room. Pectoral muscles lifted his chest, and subtle 
grooves marked his abdominals. He was undercutting his 
demonstration of sub-average physicality.

"Do you work out?" Stanton asked.

"Actually, Heather," said Darnell, stopping for a moment, "I 
used to swim competitively. Another stereotype I like to 
dispel."

With that, he removed his shirt. While that did serve to reveal 
an exceptional set of arms and shoulders, it also showed that 
what was below the waist was rather unexceptional.

"Well, that's nothing," said Maytag.

"Maytag!"

"I'm not offended," Darnell assured them. "That's my whole 
point."

"No," said Maytag, "I mean that doesn't prove anything."

For a moment, Stanton looked confused before a twinkle came into 
her eye She asked, "Care to measure up? You could get naked, 
too."

Darnell looked between the two of them, somewhat uncertain what 
was transpiring and somewhat uncomfortable now that he was 
mostly naked..

"That's not what I had in mind," said Maytag. "What I meant is 
that the size means nothing when he's flaccid."

"Well he can fix that," said Stanton, straightening herself in 
her seat. "Right, Darnell?" she asked as she nodded towards his 
limp dick.

"You want him to do *what*?" asked Maytag.

"You brought it up," said Stanton.

"I don't know if I can do that," said Darnell.

"You can't get yourself hard?" asked Heather.

"I mean I don't have a lot of experience with doing that in 
front of other people. Especially..." Darnell's words drifted 
off as he tilted his head towards Maytag.

"Oh," said Stanton. "What do you think?" she asked Maytag, "Do 
you mind stepping outside for a moment?"

Maytag hesitated, "I don't know if that's appropriate."

"Don't worry," said Stanton. She got out of her seat and herded 
Maytag towards the door, "This is purely an experiment. We 
should be done in a few minutes."

"Stanton," whispered Maytag as they neared the doorway, "We are 
conducting an investigation."

"That's all I plan to do," she said while opening the door, 
"Conduct an investigation."

The door shut in front of Maytag before he could say another 
word. He stood there outside the hotel door for a moment, then 
turned and headed down the motel stairs to find a cup of coffee.

Inside the room, Heather walked by Darnell, indulged in a quick 
look at his backside, and then sat down on the sofa behind him. 
He turned to look at her and said, "That seemed strange. Is that 
what Gerry meant when he said that you two hadn't been honest? I 
mean, it doesn't seem that you two are a couple."

"No, we're more like partners." Heather watched as Darnell 
leaned over to remove his shoes and pants. "What if I told you 
that an hour ago I saw a black man with an extremely big dick?"

"I'd say that you got what you asked for," replied Darnell. 
"Your ad stipulated hung black men, and that's what you got. 
Others need not apply. I would also be willing to bet that he 
was some sort of hustler and expected to be paid for his time."

Heather nodded.

"Heather," Darnell said, "One is not a large statistical 
sample."

"Maybe not, but what a large sample that one was." 

"Well, this should make two, and it should bring your average 
down, and some of your misconceptions in line."

Heather leaned back. "OK, you're on."

With that Darnell reached down with his right hand, and took 
hold of his dick with his thumb and forefinger. He pulled up and 
away from his sac, and let his remaining fingers play with the 
loose flesh supporting his balls.

Slowly he tugged at his cock and rubbed his thumb against its 
head. Eyes closed, he slowed his breath and licked his lips. His 
hand traced small circles in the air as he pulled, in front of 
the tight spirals of the small clusters of hair that sprung from 
the skin surrounding his cock. It was a meditative cycle.

Heather watched with blue eyes while he yanked and groped in a 
steady pattern. The skin stretched, it relaxed. His balls swung 
freely, sometimes in synch with his stroking, sometimes slapping 
gently against the back of his hand.

His concentration was apparent, his effort steady. Within a 
minute, a rivulet of sweat had started under his right arm and 
trickled down to his thigh. Though his cock had swelled 
somewhat, it was not yet fully erect. 

He opened his eyes and glanced at Heather. She looked up from 
his handiwork to meet his glance and bite her upper lip. "That's 
it, we're moving along nicely."

At that Darnell grinned, and closed his eyes again, returning to 
the private visions of his growing arousal. Heather noticed he 
breathed faster. "That's it," she said, "that looks good."

Darnell opened his eyes again and looked down at Heather. He 
struggled to control his breath, and once in every few strokes 
his chest heaved to gulp new air. Sweat had formed on his brow 
and on his neck.

Heather locked eyes with him, then released them as she surveyed 
his lean upper body, and then his inflated cock. She looked away 
from him and then at her own lap, hoping that his eyes had 
followed. She took hold of the hem of her dark skirt and then 
inched it up along her legs slowly. 

She heard him gasp as the skirt went over the dark brown tops of 
her thigh-high nudes, and the wide elastic band gave way to her 
smooth pale skin. Heather looked up at Darnell and saw that he 
was transfixed. At the same steady pace, she lifted her hips to 
pull the skirt past them and reveal the simple white cotton 
triangle that covered her sex.

Heather looked down at his cock and saw that it had grown to 
accommodate all four fingers on its length. What had been a 
circular set of tugs had changed to a steady pumping. The sweat 
beaded up on his torso.

Darnell's gaze left her crotch; the spell somehow dispersed when 
the skirt no longer had any place to go. He exhaled deeply, let 
go of his cock, and the stiff plank stood straight out from his 
body.

"You see," he said, "That isn't exceptionally large or--"

Heather had leaned forward and engulfed his cock in her mouth. 
Warm wet velvet pressed against the underside of Darnell's cock. 
She had managed to take much of him into her, and her painted 
lips and ruddy cheeks looked exquisite as they pulled away from 
his almond-shell shaft.

Heather stopped at the head and sucked, then opened her lips and 
rolled her tongue around the tip of his cock. It twitched and 
jumped over her upper lip, and she adjusted her head to capture 
it again and run her mouth back down his salty length. She 
cupped his balls with one palm, took his ass in her other and 
guided him forward. When she released he fell away from her, and 
in this way she slid him in and out for her mouth.

"Oh, Heather," said Darnell, "That's just how I like it."

Not to be outdone by former paramours, Heather freed her mouth 
and gripped his cock and said, "Is that so." Before he could 
answer, she had half of his cock in her mouth. When she closed 
her lips they grazed against his pubic hair, and his cock lodged 
firmly against the back of her throat.

Quickly, Heather ran her mouth along him and plunged down again 
onto the full length of his shaft. She worked his cock, pumping 
its now glistening skin with her fist while she licked his 
balls, before running her tongue back over the length of his 
meat and taking him into her mouth once more.

Darnell watched Heather tend to his cock with her lips, and 
noticed that she was tending to herself with a free hand. She 
had pulled the white cotton of her panties aside, and circled 
three fingers at the center of her dark thatch.

When he saw her fingers drift from circling her clit to delving 
between her lips and sliding inside her, he spoke. "Oh, Heather, 
I want you now."

Heather hooked her thumbs in the sides of her panties. She 
released Darnell's cock, stood, and pulled the panties down. 
After kicking them off, she twirled on the heels of her shoes, 
slid one knee onto the sofa and lifted up the back of her skirt 
while bending at the waist.

Darnell dropped to his knees to admire Heather's round ass. He 
kissed her cheek, pressed his nose against the tender flesh. He 
pulled back to look at that junction where her toned thighs 
emerged from her stockings and met the full curves of her ass.

Delicately, he probed forward between her legs with his tongue. 
Curling upwards, he touched her clit and cleaved her lips as he 
withdrew. Heather leaned forward to grab the top of the sofa and 
pushed her knee out to one side to give Darnell more room.

He responded by burying his face in her backside. His nose 
pushed against the crack of her ass, and his lips fully embraced 
her pussy. He pushed his tongue against her slit. He licked, he 
flickered, he swirled.

Heather rolled her head back, and then let it hang down. She 
snuck a glance back at the dark shoulders that emerged from 
behind her hips, then brought her head to rest on the backing of 
the sofa. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to his 
kisses. 

Soft wet kisses gave way to hot sliding strokes when Darnell 
rose, parted her slightly, and entered her. With his hands on 
her hips, he set the rhythm; she pushed back to meet him in 
time. Steadily, the strength of his thrusts grew to a steady 
thumping. Heather shrieked.

She continued with those soft high notes, and Darnell grunted a 
full octave or two lower. They built to a crescendo, and the 
music spilled over and over in Heather's head: the thumping, the 
grunting, the shrieking. 

Darnell's moans grew louder, and as he came Heather reached her 
own coda. The volume swelled, and by the end, she heard sirens 
join the mix of their panting, groaning, and slapping.

Darnell pulled out and collapsed on the sofa, but the high 
pitched sound remained.

Heather looked down at him. "Do you hear sirens?"

Recognition crossed Darnell's face, and Heather raced to towel 
off and make herself presentable. Darnell followed Heather's 
harried pace and was soon dressed as well.

Outside, the sirens had been turned off, but the two squad cars 
remained at odd angles in the parking lot. Maytag stood with a 
police officer. Stanton rushed to join them, and Maytag quickly 
explained what had happened.

On the way back from getting coffee, he saw what at first 
appeared to be a man working to replace a bad tire. As he drove 
by, however, he saw the man attempt to hide a knife. Maytag 
identified himself, struggled briefly with the suspect, but was 
able to subdue him. The motel staff had called the police. 
Unfortunately, it was Darnell's car, and he left with the 
officers to file a complaint.

"Sorry that I wasn't able to help," offered Stanton sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it," said Maytag, "It was luck that I saw the 
guy. We might not have found him if you hadn't kicked me out."

Stanton nodded in agreement, but wore a look of disappointment.

"How did the research go, anyway? Do we need to call Masters & 
Johnson?"

"No," said Stanton, "Darnell's size was nothing exceptional. 
But, hey, you know what I always say, right?"

"What's that?" asked Maytag.

"Size isn't everything."


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

I hope you enjoyed that. Please email me with any comments!

Copyright 1999 by Jimmy Hat (jimmy@jimmy-hat.com)
Anyone wishing to charge fees for access to this material, through 
any media or publication, must receive the written permission of Jimmy Hat.


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