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From: James Houblon <jameshoublon@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Plunketing's Bank III - Equal Ops for Latitia Lipswell
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Date: Tue, 09 Nov 2010 20:10:07 -0500
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The following is based upon real life characters and a real life
bank,
still trading today.  Mr Plunketting's (name changed for legal
reasons), continues to take a keen interest in his employees careers,
and further reporting on his progress in steering his venerable
institution along its successful path are available shortly from the
author.


Mr Plunketting took a satisfied puff on his Ghurkha's 'His Majesty'
cigar and grasping his faithful 'fat boy' Meisterstuck gold plated pen
turned a patriarchal eye to Mrs Latitia Lipswell's file. He noted that
at 25 she was in the top bracket of Plunketting's earners, married, a
real regular at Plunketting's gym, and a key member of the city's
black community, attorney by training and active in the many projects
that set to improve the lot of that community's youth.

Latitia Lipswell sat waiting in Mr Plunketting's reception area, she
had prepared in earnest for this all important meeting in which she
was determined to win a considerable sum of money for the creation of
a training centre for some of her neighbourhoods most deprived
youngsters.  She was dressed in a sharp, pink skirt suit, with black
trim, sheer black stockings and had her favourite shiny black patent
high heels on.  She felt that the colour of her neat little suit
nicely set off her caramel skin.

Her pitch black hair was tied in a neat, almost strict bun.

She was keen to get on with the meeting but had been kept waiting for
at least 30 minutes since that white trash little slut Clarissa
Perkingslite had rushed past her, no doubt headed out early again to
hang about at the mall with all the other spoiled white trash.

Mr Plunketting recalled with satisfaction his successful coaching of
young Miss Perkingslite, as he ran 'fat boy', his old faithful pen
under his nose, relishing the smooth gold finish.  Fortified, he
buzzed the intercom, 'send Mrs Lipswell in please, Ms McHew'.

Latitia Lipswell strode purposely into Mr Plunketting's lavishly
furnished office, determined to strike a pose.  She noticed several
old master wall paintings, the real fire and the privileged view over
the city, in her mind clearly the rewards of centuries of white
exploitation.  She took the lavish leather bound seat in front of Mr
Plunketting and neatly crossed her muscular legs.

'Mrs Lipswell, how glad I am to meet you in person', said Mr
Plunketting, 'I have taken a keen interest in your career to date and
in the project that you have put forward for Plunketting's
sponsorship'.  Latitia was going to have to play her cards right, she
thought, if she was going to secure the funds from this exploitative
old white boy and, suspected white-supremist capitalist blood sucker;
she had after all practically guaranteed the money to the local hood
reverend, and if she couldn't get Mr Plunketting to sign, she would
have to pay out of her own pocket, and the 7.5 million dollar price
tag would practically eat all her hard won savings.

'Thank you, Mr Plunketting', replied Latitia, 'the black community is
counting on Plunketting's as regards this fine project you been
looking at, and I am just determine to convince you to get and do the
right thing by it', and with that she gave Mr Plunketting a dazzling
smile.

'Well, now Mrs Lipswell, shall we as they say, 'get it percolating',
no need in waiting, just pop your panties off, and place them here,
then up on the table and we'll soon have this deal done.  The bank is
close to releasing the funds', beamed Mr Plunketting, 'lift the skirt
when you are settled, I am sure that you will find the table most
comfortable'.

Confused, Mrs Lipswell wasn't sure she had heard correctly, 'what in
the name did you say?', she burst out, a trace of her suppressed
ghetto accent audible as it always was when she was flustered, or
getting 'dissed'.

'Come Mrs Lipswell, put simply, just pop your panties off, hop on the
table, lie back comfortably, skirt hitched up nicely!  We have some
work to complete before we can sign over the full funds required'

'Y'all bin dissin' me mo-fo, I ain't no nigra ho slave of you'all',
Latitia practically shouted, her blood boiling with indignation and
her voice now reverting fully to the language and accent that she had
worked so hard at shaking off since clambering up the professional
ladder and out of the ghetto of her youth.

Mr Plunketting raised a professional eyebrow at Mrs Lipswell's
outburst, but in the interest of his firm's strict adherence to its
equal opportunities policy, replied stoically, 'Mrs Lipswell, I assure
you that I personally have every intention of ensuring that the funds
are released on completion of today's discussion.  You must however
realise and accept that for the outlay of over 7 million dollars, I
feel duty bound to take a personal interest in the project', with a
warm smile, he continued, 'lets get 'percolating' and get the official
niceties out of the way, and the project is up and running', and 'now
panties off, up here, please'.

Latitia Lipswell was livid.  Her bee-sting lips pouted and her eyes
flashed white at the audacity of her white boss-man's suggestion.
Rationally, that part of her that had escaped the ghetto felt
conflicted, she could be in place to deliver over 7 million dollars of
white exploitation money to her local hood, if she could get through
this monstrous situation.  She would be sacrificing her dignity and
the sanctity of her marriage vows for the sake of the futures of over
30 deprived youths in her old hood and for her hard working reverend.
Her mind conflicted, she decided that she would have to make this
sacrifice, no-one need ever know, and the money could be in her hands
in lick time.  Reluctantly, and brimming with anger with both herself
and with the system, she uncrossed her lithe muscular legs, hitched up
her neat pink skirt and pulled her panties down over her knees and
shiny boots and placed them on Mr Plunketting's huge table, before
getting on the table and lying back to make her sacrifice.

'Excellent, lets begin, Mrs Lipswell, I am certain that in no time at
all our project will be underway', he said as he reached out to take
Latitia's panties.  He turned his eyes to Mrs Lipswell's discarded
panties, and was pleased to note that they were a matching pink to Mrs
Lipswell's professional looking suit.  He noted that the panties where
made from fine silk, very smooth to the touch and still warm.  He
turned them over in his pudgy hand for a close inspection of the
gusset and was surprised and encouraged to observe a pronounced stain
of damp material in the centre.  He lifted the gusset to his
connoisseur's nose and inhaled deeply.

Mrs Lipswell was both horrified and mortified at this development.
She was in the middle of her cycle and ovulating, and frankly at this
time of the month she always got extremely horny, and just before
coming to this nightmarish meeting and after a hard work out at the
gym had slipped into the executive toilets and rubbed herself off to a
full orgasm.  She knew that her panties were soaked with her pussy
juices.

In all his years of conducting business meetings with his employees,
whether it be career appraisals, career coaching, or like this in
regards to Plunketting's many charitable ventures, Mr Plunketting's
connoisseur's nose had never encountered anything like the tangy aroma
that infused Mrs Lipswell's panties.  He took another long
appreciative sniff and relished the strongly pronounced smell of fresh
pussy juices combined with an underlying deeper and more subtle smell
of the sweat from Mrs Lipswell's work out.  His little dick
immediately stiffened to its full three inches and his enormous balls,
like a pair of two large ripe grapefruits shuddered to life, once more
full to the brim.  It was highly irregular, but in the light of this
magnificent whiff he brought the gusset to his nose for a third deep
inhalation of Mrs Lipswell's fruity product, before almost croaking,
'Mrs Lipswell, this is one of the finest projects I have encountered
in my long career', before turning his munificent gaze to Mrs
Lipswell's exposed pussy.

Something had clicked off in Latitia's mind, almost as if the act of
prostrating herself to Mr Plunketting had removed all her upright
dignity and transported her back to a time deeply stored in her
unconscious, 'Yessum! Massa! it's a real fine project you looking at
there', she managed in reply, just as she realised that Mr
Plunketting's attentions had turned to her exposed, and now, against
all her rational will, extremely wet pussy.

While Mr Plunketting considered himself a man of the world, and had
always kept a broad minded view in regards to all of his employees, he
rarely had the opportunity to work with his ethnic minority staff, and
relished the work ahead.  Turning a benevolent eye to Mrs Lipswell's
pussy, he marvelled at the rough, short, very wiry pubic bush before
him as he ran his fingers through it.  Then, he reached for his old
faithful 'Fat Boy' gold plated Meisterstuck pen and holding it
vertically took a brief measurement of Mrs Lipswell's slit, and noted
that it was well in the upper percentile in length.  'I believe that
this project will run for a goodly length of time, Mrs Lipswell', he
said.

Mr Plunketting returned to his task, and placing a thumb either side
of Mrs Lipswell's pussy, parted it to reveal a view of her remarkably
pink and very moist interior.  He noted with satisfaction that Mrs
Lipswell's very dark, almost black, clitoris was fully swollen and
protruding from her thick black surrounding pussy lips.  He lowered
his head and ran his tongue the length of Mr Lipswell's glistening
slit, from just above her tight little ass hole, along and into her
pussy slit and over her swollen clitoris, revelling in the taste and
smell of her ethnic juices.  Latitia Lipswell shuddered inside as an
involuntary spasm of pleasure shivered through her clitoris and she
felt her pussy moistening even more, a trickle of pussy juice exiting
her slit and dripping down and over her bum hole.

'I must say that I am proud to be actively involved with all equal
opportunity projects Mrs Lipswell', he said, adding, 'now lets
finalise the detail, pop down here and you can review the
documentation, bend over the table and keep the skirt hitched up'.

'Yessum', was all that Latitia Lipswell could reply as she dismounted
Mr Plunketting's fine desk and turned to bend over the table,
automatically and as if in a trance lifting her neat skirt over her
hips and exposing her big black booty.

Mr Plunketting opened his finely tailored pinstriped trousers and
unleashed his turgid throbbing three inch dick and his enormous balls,
which hung like a pair of ripe grapefruits between his legs.  Taking
an embossed Plunketting's bank envelope from his desk he stood and
passed it to Mrs Lipswell.  As he did so his little dick brushed
against Mrs Lipswell's wiry pubis and his massive balls quivered with
anticipation.

'I think Mrs Lipswell, that you will find the terms of our project
most satisfying', he said, as he glanced down and parted her buttocks
for a more detailed look at Mrs Lipswell's assets.  'Yessum', Latitia
replied.

Mr Plunketting, ever appreciative of other cultures, admired Mrs
Lipswell's well developed, muscular black buttocks.  He particularly
relished her tight dark ass ring and her now shining, gaping slippery
pussy, ever so pink when set against the black of her buttocks.  As
Mrs Lipswell opened the richly embossed Plunketting bank envelope, he
lined up his little dick and prepared to plough on with the next stage
of this sensitive operation.

Mrs Lipswell's eyes rolled back as she felt Mr Plunketting's cock
poised to push into her pussy.  She tried to focus on the agreement
before her but was faint headed, unsure how she had let herself get
into a situation where she was about to go against all of her morals
and allow herself to be defiled by a member of the white exploiter
race.  Then she saw the banker's draft, made out to her for seven
million dollars before gasping as Mr Plunketting's cock squirmed
against her slopping wet pussy.

Mr Plunketting was convinced that this was one of his most triumphant
projects.  He had always been aware that his cock was on the small
side, though rightly believed that he made up for this with the
miraculous nature of his huge balls and proven staying power when at
the job.  What surprised him however in regards to the business at
hand was that he had to push hard to enter Mrs Lipswell's pussy, tight
and muscular as it was and despite the fact that she was wet in
readiness.  With his usual determination to make for a job well done,
he persisted, and with a final effort his little dickhead penetrated
between Mrs Lipswell's big black buttocks and into the pink warm
depths of her pussy.

Mrs Lipswell could only just feel Mr Plunketting's little dick sliding
in and out of her muscular athletic pussy, but she could feel his
large balls as they bounced against her thighs, each time the white
exploiter thrust into her.  Mr Plunketting had never worked on a deal
so satisfying.  The tightness of Mrs Lipswell's pussy was overwhelming
and he marvelled at the contrast of his little white cock plummeting
in and out of Mrs Lipswell's black pussy.  He particularly revelled in
the sight of her little winking asshole as he plummeted again and
again into Mrs Lipswell.

After several minutes of businesslike thrusting in and out of Mrs
Lipswell's fantastically tight pussy, Mr Plunketting was starting to
work up a sweat.  Conversely, Latitia Lipswell's mind had virtually
shut down.  Against all her better judgement, her big black clitoris
was throbbing intensely, and juices flooded her tight pink pussy, soon
in the deepest recesses of her subconscious mind she knew that she was
going to come.

Suddenly, just as he felt that his legs would give way, Mr Plunketting
felt Mrs Lipswell's pussy clamp down on his little cock as Latitia's
orgasm rocked through her.  Her muscular pussy spasmed and spasmed on
the white intruder's dick.  The sensation of  Mrs Lipswell's pussy
pulsating on Mr Plunketting's little dick, combined with the sight of
her dark anus and the contrast of his little white pole pounding in
and out of Mrs Lipswell's tight black pussy set Mr Plunketting's
miraculous balls trembling, and with an almighty shudder both of his
massive balls began to blow their copious rich brew deep into Mrs
Lipswell's fertile black vagina.

Mrs Lipswell's eyes once more rolled back in their sockets as reams
and reams of thick white fertile sperm flooded her pulsating pussy.
In a trance she just about managed to reach for Mr Plunketting's 'fat
boy' Meisterstuck and sign on the dotted line.  Her project was in her
reach and her sacrifice justified, although she was concerned that Mr
Plunketting was still pumping his exploiter's seed deep within her.

'Mrs Lipswell, I do believe that we have a deal', declared Mr
Plunketting as at last his almighty balls ceased spurting his thick
product into Latitia's taut black pussy.  He retrieved his shrunken
little dick from her impressive depths and adjusting his fine
pinstriped trousers announced, 'just pop your panties back on and we
are done'.

'Yessum', said Mrs Lipswell and struggled back into her neat pink
panties, her mind blank. Her pussy had never in all her life felt as
full of sperm, which immediately began to fill her gusset and spill
down the inside of her thighs.  She retrieved the banker's draft and
with a brief look at Mr Plunketting's rich office interior tottered
from the room.

Mr Plunketting resolved in future to take much more of an interest in
all things 'equal opportunity' within the bank.  He thought that he
might even have to personally interview some of Mrs Lipswell's young
wards in person.  For now however, he was utterly exhausted.  He
reached into one of his desk's drawers and retrieving a bottle of
Henri IV Dudognon Heritage cognac and poured himself a large,
restorative measure.

Having gasped down the cognac, Mr Plunketting buzzed the intercom, 'Ms
McHew, cancel my appointment with Mrs Kim Dong please, I will take her
instead first thing in the morning'.  After such a rigorous review of
the bank's equal opportunity engagements, he needed rest before taking
on his dollar-yen trader.  She would have to wait until morning when
he was fully restored.  Reflecting on a day well spent at the helm of
Plunketting's, he reached for his Ghurkha's 'His Majesty' cigars and a
well earned smoke.


IN THE NEXT ISSUE OF PLUNKETTING'S BANK, MR PLUNKETTING, PROPRIETOR,
REVIEWS HIS DOLLAR-YEN TRADES WITH MRS KIM DONG AND DEMONSTRATES HIS
KNOWLEDGE OF TRADITIONAL JAPANESE PRACTICES.

COMING SOON FROM THE DESK OF JAMES HOUBLON.

SEE ALSO

PLUNKETTING'S BANK - THE CAREER APRAISAL
PLUNKETTING'S BANK II - CAREER COACHING CLARISSA

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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