3 comments/  10825 views/  0 favorites

Paramour

By: masterfeedlarry



Emily finished applying the sweet smelling lotion to her tanned skin and stood to finish dressing. Things were really looking up for her. She'd moved out of her parent's house after graduating from college and landing a pretty decent job. She'd recently lost that "freshman fifteen" through a lot of hard work at the gym. She'd met a guy she'd been "dating" for the past two months and she really liked him, except for the fact that they'd only been on one date. It was a blind date. Her friend Rachel had set them up. His name was Steve. He said he'd be over at eight. The alarm clock on her nightstand read 7:55.

She'd already decided on her outfit. It was sexy but classy. She wanted to show off all the hard work she'd done in re-sculpting an already awesome body. Emily stood 5'8" and weighed in at a muscular 136 pounds. She had reached 150 by Christmas of her senior year and swore she'd never get there again. The running helped the most. 

She picked up her black V-string panties and slid them up her thighs and positioned the lacy triangle over her freshly shaved pussy. Then she stepped into a little black cocktail dress that hugged her curves and showed off just the right amount of cleavage. Though she could have worn a bra, and probably should have worn a bra, she felt that the dress looked so much better with the least amount of visible sub-structure to ruin the beautiful lines and smooth silhouette that the dress created. 

Emily possessed one of the best combinations of tits and ass that any woman could possess and she knew it. It was a source of pride. Each natural breast was a solid D-cup and they were positioned high on her chest, but her nipples were positioned low and at the very front of each mammary. She had thick, rubbery nipples that were always hard, even when she wasn't cold or sexually excited. Normally, the padding in her bra obscured them, but tonight she wanted to show them off. 

The door bell rang as Emily slid her professionally manicured toes into a pair of black pumps with a 3 inch heel. She opened the door to find Steve standing there holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. He wore Levi's, black penny loafers with no socks, a white buttoned-down Oxford shirt, and a tweed blazer. They both stood for a number of seconds drinking in their respective views. Emily knew that this was by far the hottest guy she had ever dated.

"Wow!" said Steve smiling. "You are, without a doubt, the hottest girl I have ever dated."

She smiled back at him as he handed her the flowers.

"Let me put these in some water, then we can go," she said, turning toward the kitchen. Steve followed her with his eyes, focusing on her buttocks as they shifted and jiggled. The black material slid over them, but only the keen and discerning eye would be able to detect the indentations around her hips where the strings of her panties pressed into her flesh. She stood at the sink and filled a vase with water.

Steve closed the door and followed her into the kitchen. He walked up behind her and pressed the jean covered ridge of his erection into her backside as he circled her waste with his arms.

"Damn, girl, you got booty like a black girl and shit," he said gently kissing her neck just below her ear.

She knew it, but she still liked to hear it said. She took it as a compliment.

"Thank you," she said slowly grinding her ass back into him.

The kisses on the back of her neck and the feel of his hard cock pressing into her ass sent all sorts of tingles and shivers into Emily's body. She couldn't help it.

"So, why are you all dressed up this evening?" he said caressing her flanks, thighs and hips with open, desperate hands.

"I want you to take me out for drinks, dinner, and oooh." She never finished her sentence because Steve's hands had found her breasts and had cupped them tenderly while his thumbs and forefingers mercilessly squeezed her sensitive nipples. He continued to pepper the back of her neck with tiny, moist kisses.

"God, you smell good," he said.

"Steve, please stop. I want you to take me out."

"You're not wearing a bra, are you?"

"No. Please stop." He squeezed both breasts firmly and kissed the nape of her neck. She shivered and he felt it.

"This dress makes your ass look awesome," said Steve, kissing the flesh exposed as he slowly drew the zipper down her back. All of a sudden, Emily couldn't catch her breath. She felt herself getting wet. But she had wanted to go out first. She was confused. She twisted away from him and backed over to the stove, out of his reach.

"My God, Steve! All you ever want to do is fuck me!"

The words hung heavily in the silence that filled the room. She stared at him. He stared back at her.

"Yeah, well..."

"Yeah, well I want you to take me out."

"Why?"

"Why!?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Jesus, Steve! We've been dating for two months now and all we ever do is fuck! I mean, all we do is fuck!"

"You don't like the way I fuck you?" said Steve, smiling.

"That's not the point."

"Aren't you the one that told me that 'your pussy was made to be fucked'?" He took a step toward her. She couldn't hide the smile.

"But..."

"And aren't you the one that told me that you've never cum so hard and so often than when I fuck you?" She just looked at the floor. He stepped closer.

"And aren't you the girl that sets your alarm clock to go off a full hour before you have to get up to make sure you have time to suck my cock to its maximum hardness just so you can get well fucked before you have to go off to work?"

Emily looked up into Steve's eyes and didn't say another word. She walked out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. Steve followed her. She stood at the foot of the bed and finished unzipping her dress. It slid to the floor and she stepped out of it by kneeling on the bed. V-string and pumps. She spread her thighs, pushed her chest into the bed, pulled her panties to the side to expose her wet pussy and looked back at him over her arching buns.

"Fuck me?"

Paramour Cove



Samantha and Sue took the boat to the lake for a day of water fun and culminating with an evening cruise on the lake. Tubing, sunning and swimming, they just had fun on the lake today. Having been on the water all day they decided to have an evening meal on the lake and a romantic lake cruise. 

After finishing the meal, they lay on the deck; gazing at the stars, laughing, talking, and so enjoying each other's company as a cool summer breeze engulfed their warm bodies. Samantha wore her side tie bikini bottoms and a thin floral print blouse held closed by three buttons. Sue chose to remain in her bikini and let the summer breeze kiss her body. Sipping wine, talking, and gazing at the stars, they immersed themselves in the ambience of romance that the summer evening promised them.

Sue ran her fingers along Samantha's face, gazed into her eyes, and gave her a lingering passionate kiss that stirred Samantha to the core of her being. She embraced Sue, pulled her close, and felt the warmth of her body. They relished the warmth and intimacy of the embrace, and the evening fell still as they hugged.

The sky was clear, the water calm, in the distance a marker light from another boat shined, and it remained static. Perhaps it was the boat of other lovers and they were partaking in the romance of that summer evening. The evening breeze has fallen still; the only sounds they heard were the sounds of lovers, making their own music. 

They kissed and tenderly held each other, being captivated by the diamonds sprinkled in the sky; they enjoyed the lover's solitude. It was a scene for all the lovers to enjoy. 

Sue caressed Samantha's breasts through her sheer floral blouse. Samantha, tired from the busy day, cherished the placid ministrations of her lover's touch. Sue felt the fullness of her breasts and the erection of her long nipples as she touched them. Samantha moaned softly and the summer night air echoed with it. Then Sue kissed Samantha's ear and trailed kisses down her long smooth neck. Her hand cupped Samantha's breast and shifted the three buttons that concealed her full saucy breasts. Sue's nimble fingers unbuttoned her blouse in a while. Her hands deftly moved and laid Samantha's bust bare to be osculated by the warm summer breeze that resumed drifting over the open water and the star struck lovers of the lake.

Sue kissed her bare breasts, caressing them lovingly. The tickling effect on her nipples evoked a pleasing sensation into her vitals; it ignited a fire in her loins. Her labia were full and the bright pink lips pressed together desiring... needing a lover's touch. Sue was intent of fulfilling Samantha's desires. She played with her jeweled belly button piercing, and her hand roamed over to the waist band of her bikini bottom. A hand, Sue's hand, eased under it feeling the warm skin as it glided to the top of her slit.

Sue touched Samantha's slit; it was damp. And so, she squirmed as Sue's hand withdrew from her bikini bottom. Sue placed her fingers on the bow tie at her hip, untying it quickly. Then she repeated the action on its counterpart. Undoing the bows, Sue gently laid the material between Samantha's thighs letting her lover perceptible to her. Samantha slightly raised her hips to assist Sue for removing her bikini bottoms from under her ass.

Samantha lowered her butt and splayed her legs. The moonlight waltzed on her vulva and revealed her labia, pink and engorged under her tan. There were no tan lines on her body. The labia minora looked dark and protruding within the confines of labia majora. They resembled the lace on the cups of a delicate bra. Drops of dew on her petals glistened in the moonlight and beckoned Sue to revel into her enchanting treat.

Sue stood, released the ties of her string bikini, let the two-piece material fall on the deck, and pushed them to the side with her foot. Standing naked before her lover, she ran hands over her body and presented herself to Samantha.

Samantha drank in the beautiful scenario. She savored the lines and curves of Sue's lithe body. Her small breasts silhouetted by the moonlight. The erect nipples and the sensuous fullness of her bust were enticing. Her lines tapered to the flair of her hips and down her slender thighs. She caressed her mound, taking in the beauty of her lover. 

Sue scooped a single drop of Samantha's feminine dew from her petals and pressed it to her lips. Samantha's tongue darted out to retrieve the scrumptious treasure and rolled the drop on her lips, before drawing it inside her hot mouth and relishing her love juice. Sue smiled and kissed her. They shared her nectar as their lips locked together.

Samantha's legs spread wide, waiting, anticipating and longing for the touch of her lover. Sue fulfilled her lover's desire as she stroked her engorged lips.

Samantha's eyes closed and she moaned softly "Mmm..."

Sue knelt between her legs and parted her labia. Her pussy was smooth and bare, save a small landing strip just above her slit. It was the style, either that or completely bare. Samantha liked a little hair there to remind all that she was a woman, not a little girl. 

Sue felt Samantha tense a little as she started to enter her hot pussy with her digit. Her lips open and her alluring eyes closed. Samantha was waiting for more. Sue rubbed her hard clit, and she jumped at her touch. Her clit hard, elongated and very pink as it peeped from its hood. Her clit gleamed with honeyed secretions. Samantha's shrieks pierced through the quiet that lay on the water, as Sue toyed with her body.

It was at this point that Sue slipped her fingers into Samantha's wet cunt, finger-fucking her. Samantha heaved her hips to her manual thrusts. The fingers rocked deep into her cunt and she ground the invasive fingers with each violent stroke. The lust pulsated through her hot pussy. A pussy, which was swollen and wet from her secretions, propelled her to the precipice of her climax. She tried to hold back, but failed. Sue's fingers danced in her cunt, drawing Samantha into an abyss of pleasure that she had no desire to escape. 

Her crotch fevered and saturated with her lover's nectars, Sue removed her fingers from Samantha. She then situated her pussy onto Samantha's and instigated a slow methodical grind on her cunt, mixing their juices together. Sue increased her gyrations and soon their secretions dripped down. Sue was the first to reach her climax. A violent body stiffening, toe-curling climax that consumed her. She moaned loudly, releasing her passion and letting her clammy box be filled with honey.

Samantha, delayed in her climax, made Sue to induce her release. Shortly afterward, she exploded releasing a torrent of her girl-cum. It oozed out of her pussy as they made love sensuously with the warm summer breeze caressing their bodies. They collapsed in intimacy, arms embracing, lips caressing, and murmuring like a couple of doves.

The boat gently rocked as the water broke on the bow, rocking the lovers in a blissful renewing sleep under the stars of balmy summer eve. All that could be heard in the remote Paramour Cove was the distant cry of a lonely loon searching for its mate.



Paramour of Pleasure



I am the woman that other women fear, envy and hate. I am the epitome of stolen pleasure, the circumstance of forbidden fantasy, and the discoverer of lost desire. I am the vessel of delightful sensuality, the mentor of carnal knowledge, and the traveler of erogenous zones. I am the other woman, a thief of his heart, a sorceress of magical love potions that steal his affection, and an enchantress of his sexuality. I share ancient sinful secrets of longing and cravings with him. His poorly chosen mate fails where I succeed in satisfied triumph. She holds his commitments and vows prisoner, while I free his desires and love. I have chosen this wicked route of eroticism. Many may damn me, but I am a willing voyager of this ill reputed life style. He comes to me tonight.

Two hours before he is due to arrive, I sit at my vanity, mystifying and beautifying for his intimate pleasure. I savor this sensual preliminary foreplay. I apply tonight's chosen scent of jasmine to my soft creamy skin strategically in places, such as, my temples, wrists, inner elbow, the nape of my neck, underneath my bountiful breast, the crook of my knee and my soft inner thighs. I brush my hair until its red-brown curls glisten with fiery highlights. My full lips are the color of rubies, red and tempting. Powdering my nose, I mentally review my erotic wardrobe of the finest of silks, satins, velvets and lace with the spectrum of colors from the palest of soft mute pastels to the deep rich colors of gems. I chose a flowing hunter green silk peignoir set with black sheer thigh high stockings and black heels with ankle wrap ties. The French cut panties that I wear are emerald green Thai silk. My secret-keeping eyes change in hue from sublime blue-gray to pale cat-eye green, reflecting lightly the color of jealousy and envy that I wear.

Bemused with my thoughts, I arch one sculptured eyebrow at my reflection. What shall tonight's entertainment consist of? How shall I entice his desire and saturate his yearnings? My lover stated no preference, only his urgent need of me. I go into the bedroom to stage the set of our erotic drama. I remove the peach scented candles from last week's play and replace them with unscented ones. I didn't want distraction from his concentration of my scent. The sheets are of ivory satin, with plush pillows. On the bedside table, I have an array of massage oils and lotions to soothe the mind and excite the body, a feather to tickle the senses, and four silk scarves to bind him, if I choose. I leave the room, to prepare the outer sanctum.

In the receiving parlor, I have wine, chilling, along with some fruit and cheese. He will not hunger, because his wishes are mine to grant. Sweet Billie Holiday's voice soothes the four walls in her most seductive musical voice. The lighting is low and inviting. I fluff the pillows on the sofa. All is set, the web is spun and I am waiting for my fly to appear. The ringing of the door chimes tells me it is time for the show to begin. My heart is pounding in response, as my love for this man is true and adoring.

My darling lover greets me with a wet deep passionate kiss, as his hands caress my soft curls. He breathes into my ear, "I have missed you." I kiss him with a light tenderness, pulling him within the security of my welcoming arms. "Come inside, love," the spider tells the fly. He steps into the foyer, his arm around my waist. I herd him into the parlor, pour him some wine, feed him some grapes, loosen his tie and remove his shoes, to give his feet the relaxation that he craves, by massaging his tiredness away. I listen to him pour out his frustrations regarding life and his unhappiness, in sympathy with an occasional kiss to his brow. I know that soon he will tire of conversation. I wait with patience and barely concealed excitement.

After several glasses of wine, he relaxes, letting desire for me fill his thoughts. I smile as his eyes dance over my attractive, seductive and alluring essence. "Sit here, pet," he tells me, pointing to the vacant place beside him on the sofa. My clinging gown's abundant skirt flows around me as I sit, with only my ankles showing. He traces the fabric on my knee with his fingertips. "Have you missed me?" He asks. I hid a smile, answering, "Yes, darling, more than words can say." My answer pleases him. He leans forward to kiss the beauty mark that lives on my neck above the left collarbone. His trimmed moustache tickles, sending shivers down my arms. "Then show me," he replies. I stand, offering my hand to him so that I might lead him into the inner sanctum of pleasure, the room that holds the heart of this house-the heat of our passion.

He is pleased with the setting of our carnal playpen. I don't think that Eros, God of love could appreciate it as much. I slowly undress him, removing his shirt, pausing to kiss the flesh as it becomes exposed to the candle's flickering glow. Standing, while I undo his belt, he slides the silk robe off my shoulders, to place kisses on the softness of my neck. I kneel before him, looking up at him, while I release the fly, saying, "Lover, I want you to lie back and let me make you forget your hectic day, as my mouth sends you above the heights of heaven." I kiss his lower stomach, before I push his pants down to his feet. I tug down his briefs in one fluid movement. With a playful laugh, I push him back onto the bed with a bounce. I strip him completely. His arousal is a beautiful lustful sight. I slide my tender lips down the shaft, eliciting a torrid response.

I stand by the side of the bed, letting my hands trace the muscles of his upper body. Watching him as my gentle hands touch him, I suddenly know what his need is for tonight. I place my fingers onto his mouth, outlining the shape of his lips. With his eyes closed, he opens his lips slightly, so that I may insert my finger for him to suckle. With my other hand, I take two of the silk scarves and loosely intertwine them amongst the posts of the headboard. His eyes still closed, he lovingly takes my hand at his mouth within his own to kiss the open palm. I remove my hand to brace myself as I straddle him, letting my silk tent over our bodies. His strong hands cup my breasts through the supple fabric. I remove his hands, so that I might interlock our fingers. I lean down onto his upper body, so that my breasts are pressing into his chest. I kiss him hungrily, allowing him to feel my desire for him. I move our joined hands above his head. With one hand I hold his hands together, then quickly wrap the silk scarves around his wrists, bonding him to the headboard posts.

He laughs, "You cunning vixen, what are you up to?" I smile, "Pleasure, Milord." I press my body over his, once again, to kiss his lips. Leaning up from him, my hair tickles his nose, giving me an idea. I climb off him to stand by the bed. I slowly strip until I am scantily clad in my Thai silk panty, stockings and heels, as he watches with intense desire. "I want to touch you, Angel." He says, "Untie me." I cup my full breasts with my hands momentarily, before tugging my tawny nipples into tautness, as I smile, arching an eyebrow, saying, "In due time! Sir, I think that what you really want is for someone to strip away all your power, taking from you the responsibility of life itself. I am the woman to do the job, thoroughly and sensually. Tonight, you will completely submit to me."

His eyes narrow, as he watches me pause by the bedside table. I stand with head bent, contemplating what method that I would employ, to commence his sensual journey on the pathway to submission that he had unknowing hitched a ride to. "Ma Cherie, I want you. Untie me this instant." He struggles with the silk scarves. I laugh, "Dear, your purchases for me are always of the finest quality. Those silk scarves will not rip very easily." I test the knots, as I say, "My Darling fly, the more you tug the more tangled that you become in my web." His struggles increase, as if testing my bond to him. Amused, I watch, knowing that I will need to soothe his mind, before I can continue. His pleasure was my utmost concern, not his torture.

I reach for the kiwi flavored massage oil, to lightly rub some onto my pert nipples. He is distracted by my bondage of him. Touching his face, I gently say, "Taste me," as I offer my breasts to his mouth. I brush one nipple across his lips. He relaxes to a small degree, as he hungrily suckles it, making cooing sounds in his throat. I move my breast from within his lip's reach. I ask, "Do you want more?" He replies, licking his lips, "Yes, Angel! Your taste is exquisite." I coyly say, "Maybe later!" "You minx," he says. His voice is thick with concealed humor, "Payback will be hell." Laughing, I counter, "I live in hell without you. It is nothing that I cannot handle, Mon Cher!" His struggle with the scarves resumes.

I watch him for a moment, smiling. I squeeze my thighs together, enjoying the feel of my silk panty clinging to my nether lips. I am wet with absolute power and carnal desire. I plan to use him as one does a utensil. As I am the wanton cistern for his pleasure releasing orgasms, I will reverse the roles so that he will become my erotic climatic tool. Tonight I have the audacity to unleash the hungry wanton bestial side of me that he has yet to witness. My stomach flutters at the thought of the tempestuous abandonment that we will utilize with orgasmic vigor this eve. As my mind whirls with these thoughts, I slide a supple finger over the silk material of my panty's crotch. I massage my pubic mound, enjoying the feel of the dampened silk against my fingertips.

My lover's struggles cease, as my debauched masturbatory activity catches his eye. I stop for a moment to prop his head up comfortably on some pillows, because I want him to view my show of self-indulgence. I straddle his body, grinding my panty-covered crotch against his hard cock, while I kiss him fervently. He protests when I climb off to lie beside him with my head pointing at his feet. I pretend not to notice him, as I continue masturbating. His protests stop with a sharp intake of breath. He is silent as my deft digits do their duty. I continue to massage my pussy through the silk with the fabric darkening from the wetness of my nether regions. I grow excited, knowing that my show is making my lover's cock hard and rigid. When my orgasm erupts, it does so in song, and I come loudly with much turbulence. I remove my wet panty and boldly place it on his chest, knowing that the silk's emanation of my womanly scent will entice his hunger for me.

I kneel facing him on the bed. As I caress my breasts, stomach and thighs, my nimble fingers delve the dewy folds of my pussy, gathering wetness on them. In silence, I offer my glistening fingers to him. With his eyes locked on mine, he licks them clean. I remove one of the pillows so that his head is almost flat on the bed. I place a knee on each side of his head so that my pussy is above his face. He says, "Yes, Angel feed me your pussy." I smile, as I say, "We shall see." Inches away from his face, I tease my clit and nether lips. The wetness of my desire and my rapid breathing were the only sound in the room. Ever so often, I give him the privilege of licking my fingers before moving them back to my mound of Venus. The taste of me drives him crazy with need. He cries in torture, "Love, let me lick you. You taste is so exquisite. Please, I need to pleasure you with my lips and my mouth." I ignore his pleas, as I ride my hand to blissful climax. My juices run with abundance over my fingers. I once again, allow him a taste.

I move down his body until my pussy lips encase his cock. He is torrid and heated with need. With my wet dew as lubricant, I slide my lips up and down the backside of his shaft; letting the sculptured rim of the head of his cock hit my clit. As I ride his rail, he begs, "Please slide me in, Darling! You are driving me insane with this mindless teasing." With urgent carnal wiles, I rub my pink swollen pussy lips, faster and faster on his cock's shaft. Caressing my breasts, my eyes close, as my red hair whips around, and I lose myself once again in climatic heaven. My orgasmic song is loud and exhilarating with joy. As it abates, I notice that he has resumed his battle with the enemy scarves. I laugh, taking the discarded panty and placing it in his mouth. To my surprise, he sucks hungrily on the saturated fabric, savoring my flavor. Taking pity on him, I lick my juices off his thick shaft. It feels alive under the dance of my tongue. He moans with enjoyment. I remove the panty so that I can kiss him deeply, allowing him the pleasure of my taste.

I leave the sanctuary of the bed, to view my assortment of sensual providing tools, waiting on the bedside table. Within the bedside table's top drawer is an erotic surprise for my darling, which I obtained via the wonders of the Internet, without leaving the sanctuary of my humble home. I caress the item with my supple fingers, thinking how his submission to me is almost complete. I smile before I proceed with the final scenario of lust and pleasure. I place the surprise, a latex penis hood with its vibrating bullet over the fat mushroom cap of his throbbing cock. With the remote control in my delicate hand, my nimble thumb flicks the on switch to low speed. I say to my love, "Milord, shall we dance?"

With a torturous but happy voice, my love replies. "My Angel, My Vixen, My Demon Lover...you are a delight, a wonder, a thrill...I adore you and I am yours!"



Paramour Rights



As always, thank you Gustavca for your editing help and assistance.

*****

White men taking sexual advantage of black women has a long history in the south. The assumption that powerful white men could take a black woman as a sexual partner whether she wanted to or not, whether she was married or not, regardless of her desires or social status was intellectually known as "Paramour Rights". Free of any real legal responsibility, for the white man this served to keep black women victimized and "in their place". For a white man seeking to acquire and retain personal, sexual power and control taking on a colored mistress and fathering mixed-race children was the ideal circumstance.

As late, as the 1950s there were parts of the Segregationist South where many white men still practiced this unwritten law of the pre-Civil War South that allowed a white man to claim a black woman and force her to have his children. Though not always discernable, regardless of the color of her skin, a woman was considered a "Negress" if she could be proven to have even a single drop of African blood.

I grew up in the South, and at the start of World War Two, I enlisted and served as an Air Force pilot. When I came home, I went to school, eventually earned a law degree and successfully passed the Bar. I guess you could say I became a big fish in a small pond with developing political aspirations. Well liked by the community, both white and black, I enjoyed a reputation as a benevolent and honest lawyer who administered to the needy white folks and our Negroes as well.

The environment in which I lived was privileged, white and entitled. While I understood, using another person for whatever reason to be morally wrong, like many men, my ego, sexual desires, and carnal needs won out. Looking back, I know I've done things that I am not proud of, foremost being my initial attitude toward Frannie and the way I treated her with such brutish self-interest. By the time I discovered Frannie, my marriage was already in trouble. I had indulged in several affairs with various ladies, and the fact that I was much older than Fran didn't seem to matter, all I could think about was having her.

*****

I first saw Frances Laurette Randolph one morning in town while accompanying my then wife Elizabeth shopping. Of course, I didn't mean to stare, but her loveliness literally took my breath away. She was probably about twenty years old then, young, innocent, untouched. This gorgeous honey colored creature was just under 5'5", maybe 110 lbs., slender but shapely, with firm high breasts and a tight, rounded behind. She had large brown eyes framed by long, thick lashes and a full sensual mouth. I think her hair might have been her crowning glory. It was the most radiant shade of chestnut brown I can ever remember seeing and she wore her long, thick beautiful hair loose, cascading over her shoulders. Despite my wife standing there next to me, I found myself wondering what it would feel like to have that chestnut hued softness brush between my legs when she bent over me to suck my dick. A car horn blew in the distance and broke my reverie, my attention once again drawn back to watching her leisurely window shop as she made her way down the street toward us. 

The day was warm and humid and she wore a full skirted yellow summer dress that tied at the waist with a wide yellow satin ribbon. The scoop necked bodice demurely displayed the blush of her breasts captured beneath the soft fabric, and in accordance with the fashion of the day, she wore a prim pair of smart, white gloves and a broad brimmed hat to protect her face from the heat and hot sun.

She walked down the street smiling and chatting with colored folks she met on the street but would only smile deferential at the white women and actually avert her eyes or lower her head just the slightest bit when she passed a white man. 

She drew closer and when she passed by me, I swear my cock twitched in my pants and I could feel a hard-on starting to grow. Before she could avert her eyes, I briefly made eye contact with her and smiled nonthreateningly. She looked at me and smiled shyly but continued pass, the scent of lemon verbena wafted from her and lingered in the air. That scent would always remind me of her. 

I couldn't take my eyes off her and could feel my jaw tighten when I saw a young Negro man come out of the feed store and intimately touch her bare arm as they talked. For some reason, this infuriated me. 

I was more than a little taken with her, and I wanted to find out more about her. I mentioned this to Bill, one of the other attorneys at the court house. Bill stopped thumbing through the old dusty law book and with a big shit eating grin said, "You don't know who she is, do you?" 

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Damn it, man, that woman you got the hots for is Frances Randolph, old Jim Randolph's stepdaughter. You know, he and his wife run the general store down there in the Quarters . . . and she ain't white." 

Frances was actually mixed-race, what white folks around here called Quadroon and the coloreds called "high-yellow" or almost white. "She a beauty, there's no denying that, hell she's way prettier than most of the white girls in town. From what I hear, her momma is a Quadroon from around New Orleans and old Jim is her second husband, Fran's daddy was a white man," Bill went on.

I started asking around town, talking to some of the older colored folks and it became obvious that there had been more than one occurrence of her female relatives being involved with and impregnated by white men. That explained her appearance and coloring, the result of several generations of race mixing on her mother's side. If you didn't know her true background you might easily assume she was white. 

Fran's Momma, Amelia, grew up in a small parish outside of New Orleans. Like her mother before her she and came from a continuing line of mulatto and quadroon women bearing children fathered by white men. Fran's biological father was a white man and her Momma had been a young servant in the old man's house. From what I could piece together from the gossip and hearsay, her mother had been involved with her white employer since she was a girl. The old man was thrilled when Amelia became pregnant with Fran. He foolishly thought Amelia and baby Fran would remain in the house after her birth and that their relationship would continue as it had in the past. Of course, things didn't work out that way; his wife threatened to divorce him, and soon after Fran's birth, he sent Amelia and the baby to live in a little cabin that he owned near town, and that's where Fran grew up until her father died and her Momma married Jim Randolph. 

Frannie was young, and would have been a kid when I went into the Air Force. By the time I finished law school, married and returned here she was living in a different town, staying with relatives until she graduated school and came back here to teach. When I saw her in town that day, she had only returned a few months prior after being offered the job of teacher at the colored school.

I was surprised and disappointed when I found out she wasn't white. It didn't matter though, because I had already made up my mind that I was going to have Frances Randolph.

*****

I was always careful to be respectful whenever I saw Fran in town. Despite our social and racial differences, she always seemed pleased to see and talk with me. As she became more comfortable with me, she often talked of her time away at school, her teaching career, her fiancé and their plans to marry within the year. 

As a popular and well thought of attorney, I was community minded and held a seat on the town's Supervisory Board and on the town's Colored School Board as well. When we would see each other in town, at School Board meetings, or even on occasion at her parent's general store I always made a point of being cordial and friendly, careful not to appear threatening or intimidating. I didn't want to frighten her. I suspected her mother was suspicious of my motives, and no doubt had talked to Fran warning her to be watchful around me. 

I wanted Fran, and the fact that she was colored made it all the easier to have her. No courting and coaxing as would be expected with a white woman, but I needed to take my time and be patient until the right opportunity presented themselves. Things went on like this for several months. She trusted me. Frannie was very predictable, and it wasn't difficult to figure out her daily routine, which very seldom varied. Typically, she would stay about an hour or so after the school day ended grading papers and preparing for the next day's class. When she finished those tasks, she'd walk the mile or so to her folks' home where she stayed. 

Late one afternoon I saw her when she left the school and walked down the quickly darkening road the short distance home. I followed her at a distance in my car. As she walked the curve in the road where the Michael's old abandoned shack now stood, I sped up and came along side of her. Stopping the car ahead of her, I pulled off the road, got out and walked back to where she was standing. 

"Mr. Jeffries, what are you doing our here?" she asked, smiling politely but eyeing me suspiciously.

"Sorry, Fran, Miss Randolph, I didn't mean to startle you," I said giving her my broadest most sincere smile. "I haven't seen you in a while, Fran, how are things, how are your folks doing," I asked. I could sense her raising apprehension and unease. As I talked, I was gradually backing her up until she was against the side of the building.

Feeling uncomfortable with my closeness, she put her hands up against my chest and started to walk around me saying, "Mr. Jeffries, I think I . . . ." and before she could finish her statement I grabbed her arm and pulled her to me. She had no chance to scream before I covered her mouth and, with one arm around her waist, pulled her around to the rear of the shack where we wouldn't be seen if anyone drove down the road. 

She was struggling with me. Frannie managed to break away and took off running blindly through the thick pine trees. I ran after her and just when I thought she might get away from me, I caught hold of her blouse and practically tore it from her back. I spun her around and slammed her into one of the trees. She kept trying to get away and I raised my hand impulsively to slap her, but caught myself and lowered my hand when I saw the wild, terrified look in her eyes. She stopped fighting me and stood there stunned and scared.

"Please, Mr. Jeffries, please," she cried, tears streaming unchecked down her beautiful face. "Why are you doing this?" she whimpered when I pressed her back against one of the trees and pinned her wrists above her head. "Let me go and I promise I won't say anything about this to anyone."

"Shut up!" I growled, angry with myself for having almost struck her.

Obviously terrified she stood there quiet and submissive. I undid my pants and stroked my cock until it was covered in a thin, sticky film of pre-cum. When I was fully erect, I lifted her skirt up, pushed my hard, hot member inside her and pounded into her until I spewed my load in her. I held her there pressed against the tree until my erection softened and slipped out. I leaned forward my head bent and resting on the tree trunk behind her, "Too fast, I didn't want to cum that fast," I mumbled into her hair. "Fuck . . . I couldn't hold it anymore."

I released her wrists and adjusted my pants up. I walked up the road where I had parked the car and drove it back to where Fran was still leaning against the tree. I got out of the car and stood there looking at her. 

Standing in front of her, the fear was clear on her face. When I reached out to help her, she cried out, and cringed away from me. "Look, girl . . . I'm gonna take you home, but if you ever say anything to anyone I swear I'll come after your nigger ass! Do you understand?" 

Of course, she understood. We both understood what had happened between us and what it meant.

She said nothing at first, just stared pass me and nodded her head, finally in a faint voice she said, "Yes, I understand . . . I won't say anything." I could tell she was in a mild shock. I pulled her up, and realized she hurt when she tried to walk, and I knew why . . . she had never had a man before. Her legs were so weak and shaky I had to half carry her to my car. 

*****

I pulled the car up in front of the house and her folks hearing the car motor hurried out. Her stepfather Jim, a tall, dark, thin man, cautiously walked over to the driver's side window, "Mr. Jeffries, Mr. Jefferies . . . evening, Sir, good to see you. What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I got your girl here, Jim. Looks like she been with one of them nigger boys. I found her wandering along the road a little while ago," I lied. 

Her momma Amelia screamed when she came around to the passenger side and saw Fran with that blank stare and the dirt and hints of blood on her clothes. Jim called for one of his boys to help Fran out of the car and take her into the house. Her stepfather looked at Fran and back at me, trying desperately to control his fury. He knew what had happened. As sure as he was black, he knew it hadn't been any nigger boy who had done this. 

"Thank you for bringing her home, Sir," he said clenching his fists so tight his nails dug into his palms. I turned, got into the car and drove away, wanting to get away from there. I clearly understood I had acted like an animal, but I also knew I wanted to have her again.

That's how it started. They all knew what had happened that night and I'm sure they talked about it among themselves, but they wouldn't have dared confront me with their accusations. 

For a week, the school closed, and Frannie stayed near home or if she did go out her stepfather or one of the boys was always with her. They knew there was nothing they could do about what had happened, and they reluctantly resigned themselves to that fact.

While I was disgusted with what I had done and with myself, I knew the course of my life and Frannie's had changed and would never be the same. 

*****

Miss Frances Randolph was the new colored schoolteacher. Our growing town now had two teachers for the coloreds, one for the older children and now Fran for the younger ones. Though some folks gossiped that Fran was sometimes standoffish, uppity, and didn't know her place, folks colored and white generally liked her. 

What with the embarrassment, her concern for her parents and their livelihood, I was confident she would never reveal what had happened. Though due to nothing she had done, Frannie had a lot to lose, her reputation, the respect accorded her family by the Negro community and I suppose the most important thing to her at that time was her marriage engagement to a young professor at the Negro Technical College in Hallettsville. 

Despite what I had done, none of that meant anything to me. As far as I was concerned, she was smart, attractive, vulnerable, easily controlled and colored. She had a beautiful, desirable body that I fully intended to use and enjoy with impunity. Initially I thought I would fuck her once and get on with my life, but there was something about her and I couldn't stop. I didn't think what I wanted was wrong, after all this was 1952 and I was Jonathan Franklin Jeffries, an important white man in this county. What I did was my business, and no one would ever dare challenge or question me, especially if it concerned me dallying with a colored woman. 

As time went by, I would occasionally see her in town, but always with one of her male relatives nearby. Eventually she began venturing out alone and each time I saw her my groin would ache from wanting to bury myself inside her.

I took her the second time in the little shack of a school house where she taught. Fran had her back to the door absently cleaning the blackboard when I came in, locking the door behind me. "Fran," I called to get her attention and I could visibly see her body stiffen. She didn't turn around, but stood there petrified as I came up behind her, cupped her breasts, and rubbed myself against her ass. Frannie was one of those independent women who refused to bind herself with girdles and garter belts and I relished the feel of her warm body through the thinness of her clothes.

"Mr. Jeffries, no, no, please," she said, as I pulled her down onto the floor. 

"Shhhhh, quiet, girl, I'll try not to hurt you," I cajoled as I impatiently raised the skirt of her dress and tore her thin underwear off. She squirmed trying to get from under me. I knew after the first time I took her she was intimidated by me, fearing if she didn't comply I would take out my displeasure on her family. Despite her emotional defiance, I knew she would not fight me. 

"Don't make this harder on yourself than it need be, Fran," I said menacingly. "If you do, I swear I'll make you sorry." With that threat, she lay there quietly.

I had her on her back, with me kneeling between her slim legs. I pressed her knees back towards her chest and placed her legs on my shoulders. She grimaced as I entered her and moaned softly when I began stroking in and out of her recently virgin orifice. I held her hips in place and thrust into her so that my thick, hard cock filled every inch of her tight, warm pussy. Holding her tighter, I closed my eyes and fucked her until my body tensed and I began to grunt, spurting cum deep inside her. I opened my eyes and looked down at her when I felt her small body begin to quiver under mine. After a minute, her body softened under me and her breathing calmed. I bent and kissed her and felt the light moisture that covered her face, and knew Frannie had experienced her first orgasm. 

It was getting dark and I wanted to get her home before people started wondering where she was. I pulled her to standing and helped her straighten her clothes. Finally gathering her courage she asked, "What did you do to me?" I didn't answer her but slipping my hand downward I cradled her femaleness and smiled at the sticky cum seeping from her pussy. 

I kissed her forehead smelling the scent of verbena in her hair and whispered to her, "The more we do this, the more you'll want and enjoy it, Fran . . . I promise." 

Embarrassed and confused by her body's reaction Fran kept her head down and refused to look at or talk to me on the drive to her home. When I pulled up in front of the house, her folks were waiting. Her Momma helped Fran inside as her stepfather stood on the porch, talking heatedly with me. 

"I know what's been going on here, Mr. Jeffries, and if you touch my girl again I'll go to the sheriff. You and I know that what you're doing is wrong. Ain't you a lawyer? How can you do this? You gotta stop, Mr. Jeffries . . . you gotta leave her alone!"

Was this old man threatening me? It took all of my control not to laugh in his face. 

"What the hell do you think you or the sheriff can do about it, old man?" I asked. I was getting angrier, and thought it better that I leave. After saying what I had come to say, I got into my car, and drove away leaving her stepfather standing helpless and impotent on the porch steps, tears pooling in his eyes. 

"He said to get her stuff packed. He'd send someone to pick her up tomorrow," Jim said to his wife.

"Oh my god, Jimmy, we can't let her go . . . you know what he wants her for," his wife replied.

"I know, I know. Pack her things, Amelia; we're going to send her to stay with my sister. Hurry now, she needs to leave tonight," he shouted.

"White man or not, that bastard's not going to turn my little girl into his whore," he said as his tears began to fall.

*****

It took a couple of days, but I eventually found someone willing to tell me where she had gone. I couldn't explain why, but I went after her. My close friend Bill, who knew I had had sex with the girl called me crazy, saying she had put one of those Louisiana hoodoos or something on me, why else would I risk my marriage and act so irrationally over a colored girl. Bill had never had a woman like Fran, and what he didn't understand is that because of who I was, my color, my wealth, my social status, I truly felt I was for lack of a better word, "entitled" to Fran. She was mine, for as long as I wanted her, she'd do whatever I told her to do when I told her to do it. 




Paramour Rights



It was very late when I got to her Aunt's house and pushed my way in. Fran was asleep in a back room but the commotion at the front door woke her. When she saw me striding into the bedroom leaving her aunt and uncle standing bewildered and frighten in the doorway, she began to scream, "No! Go away! Why won't you leave me alone?" 

I said nothing, but pulled a blanket from the bed, wrapped it around her and ordered her to get up and get into the car. Too afraid to disobey me, and fearing for her aunt and uncle, she did as she was told. We passed through the front room, she stopped to hug her aunt and I pulled her away and pushed her toward the door saying simply, "Go . . . now."

The drive back was several hours and within a short time, Fran fell into a fitful sleep. My wife was away spending a few days at our Toledo Bend home. When we finally got to the house, I didn't wake Fran, but got her out of the car and carried her to the servant's room on the first floor and put her on the bed. I didn't leave, but pulled up a chair at the end of the bed and sat trying to figure out what the hell I was doing.

I heard a soft whining sound and realized Frannie was crying in her sleep. "Mr. Jeffries . . . I'll do what you say," she said over and over before the words changed to tears. I got up and walked towards the head of the bed. Sensing the movement in the room, her eyes flew open and she immediately tried to scoot to the other side of the bed.

"Damn it, you don't need to be afraid of me Frannie," I said.

"Then why are you doing this?" she asked, emboldened by her anger.

"Because I can," I said. 

"What? What are you talking about?" she questioned.

"I was attracted to you from the first time I saw you in town. You're not an idiot, Fran. I'm pretty sure you knew this. You were the nice young school teacher here to teach our colored children. Smart, friendly, pretty and white, but you're not white are you? You're just another light skinned colored trying to pass. Isn't that what some of the coloreds say?" I asked.

"Mr. Jeffries, please, I've never said or done anything to make you think I was anyone other than who I am. You knew my name was Randolph, who my family was. You know about everything that happens in this town, how could you not have known who I was?" 

I glared at her knowing what she said was true. In a perverse way, I felt angry that she wasn't white. Which meant I could never have a legitimate relationship with her. Her being colored was my rationale for treating her the way I had.

"You're going to stay here and do exactly what I tell you to do. And unless you want to risk having your stepfather and brothers put out of business I would suggest you make every effort not to cause any trouble or problems. Do you understand what I'm telling you, Fran?"

"I won't stay here . . . People will find out what you're doing! How will you explain why I'm here? I can't stay here, Mr. Jeffries, I'm engaged to be married in a few months." 

"And your point is?" I replied sarcastically. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open when I stripped down to my shorts and stretched out on the bed next to her, possessively running my hands over her. She stiffened as I fondled her, my hand trailing to her breasts where I squeezed and pinched them until her nipples were hard brown peaks. 

I kicked the loose blanket off the bed, and spooning behind her, I could feel the heat of my cock pressed between her ass cheeks and heard her gasp when I began to grind and dry hump against her. I laughed at her surprised indignation, but I knew she could feel the hard, insistent pressure of my cock and with each forward push of my hips I fought the urge to slip it between her swollen pussy lips and thrust into her.

"That's a good girl," I whispered, as I ground harder against her.

"Let me go! Please Mr. Jeffries!" she whimpered. 

"Almost . . . almost there" I mumbled breathlessly as I humped her faster. 

After maybe a minute of heated grinding, I groaned loudly and my hands caressed her tits as I pulled her body closer. I could feel her breasts warm and firm in my hand. She began to moan softly and I lowered my hand to fondle between her legs as my now large and uncomfortable bulge rubbed harder against her ass. We could both feel it throbbing as I massaged her clit. Her moans turned to whimpers and I felt myself spasm as I held onto her and orgasmed. 

I lay there exhausted. I rolled over onto my back and taking her hand slipped it into my shorts so she could feel the damp and sticky result of my being with her. She quickly pulled her hand away and moved to the other side of the bed. All I could do was smile, inwardly knowing she belonged to me. 

*****

One thing she was right about and that was my keeping her here with me. Frannie, her race aside, was an educated young woman and not a housekeeper or cook. Though I doubted that other men of my station would care, people would talk and there could be repercussions to my career and future status if I so blatantly persisted in flaunting her in their faces. In light of the existing Jim Crow and Miscegenation laws, my close friends cautioned me to be a bit more circumspect with my actions towards the girl.

I wanted to get her out of her parent's house but have her where I could keep an eye on her and be with her when I wanted. Within a week, I found and rented a small but comfortable house for her on Neuville Road. It was in a safe, middle class colored area of town, within walking distance of the school. Best of all, she was surround by neighbors who were discreet and more concerned with their own social standing than the identity of the white man who was fucking the school teacher.

*****

In spite of everything, I enjoyed Fran's calm and even tempered nature and sometimes thought I saw a warmth come into her eyes when we were together. Not surprisingly, our time together was often as it might be with a good friend or confidante. Other times her unhappiness with our arrangement and my control over her would surface and she would be angry and petulant with me. On those occasions when I wanted sex with her and she was reluctant I'd pull her clothes off her, push her down and take it. Despite her initial resistance, her pussy was always warm and welcoming, squeezing and holding my cock inside her. I would catch my breath at the first sensation when I felt the heat between her thighs and then the wet sheath of her pussy when I inevitably impaled her. 

I remember the day I came by after she had spent the afternoon visiting her folks. She seemed nervous and jumpy through dinner but did not say what was bothering her. We went into the bedroom and as I removed my clothes, I could see she was anxious and had worked herself into a nervous state. "What is it Fran? I've had a hard day and I'm really in no mood for this, just get into the damn bed," I told her impatiently.

"No. No, I don't want to do this anymore," she said having gathered her courage. 

I looked at her in disbelief. "The panties Fran, take 'em off and get in the bed or I'll take them off for you." 

"Please, Mr. Jeffries, no more," she whimpered. 

I looked at her, my anger building at her open and continued defiance. "God damn it Fran, I've told you to stop calling me Mr. Jeffries when we're alone!"

Ignoring what I had just said she continued, "It has to be over. . . let it be over, please. I'm going to be married, Mr. Jefferies. I won't keep doing this. I won't!" 

"Just who the fuck do you think you are? You don't dictate to me!" I said.

I was tired and now pissed off. I advanced on her and grabbed her arms so tightly I knew she would have bruises the next day. Holding her at arms distance, I spewed out hurtful words that spoke more to my own self-loathing and disgust than about her. "Don't you understand by now that you belong to me and I'll tell you when you can get married and to who."

I hated myself for taking out my feelings on her, but I couldn't seem to stop myself as I choked out the words, "Do you really think your getting married means anything to me? It doesn't, Fran, Not a damn thing. It won't change anything between us."

I watched her as she stood there sobbing softly. My god, she looked like a kid. Her long beautiful hair hanging loose, draping over her shoulders and breast. I ached to reach out and touch her hard erect nipples, to lick and suck them until she made those throaty purring sounds that drove me crazy. Just as quickly as my temper had flared, it turned to desire. I released her arms and turned her around to unhook her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Looking up at me, she let me ease off her panties.

"That's my girl!" I nodded, my eyes glued to the small neatly trimmed patch of reddish brown hair between her legs. "Now lay down on the bed and spread your thighs for me, Frannie."

She did as I told her. Stretching out flat on the bed, she watched me as I crouched slightly, and removed my pants. It had been a few days since I had last relieved myself and my cock sprang free as soon as I undid my pants. It looked as thick as Frannie's wrist and already leaking pre-cum. In spite of, or maybe because of the argument and harsh words, I was hard and engorged the thick purplish vein that ran up its length pulsing and clearly visible. 

She closed her legs as I crawled up onto the edge of the bed.

"Don't act shy with me, Fran." I warned her. I took her ankles and spread them until her thighs were wide open and on either side of my hips. I bent forward and with my hand around my engorged dick I guided the bulbous cockhead to her pussy, rubbing pre-cum along her slit. I could feel her hot pussy as my cock teased across it. I looked down at her, my eyes clouded with lust.

My cock easily slid into her wet pussy.

"Mmmmmh! Feel that, Frannie?" I smirked. "So . . . you want to get married, you little slut? Does he know I've been fucking you for months now?" 

She slowly shook her head no, as her legs spread wider and her hips fell into rhythm with mine. My cock was so sensitive I could feel every ridge and groove of her pussy. I stroked into her with my swollen cock head grinding, rubbing inside her.

"Your pussy is so tight! Marry him then if that's what you want, but remember Fran, it won't change anything." I told her, thrusting into her for emphasis.

"Ohhh! Ohh! Ohhh!" she moaned under me as she placed her hands on my hips trying to pull me closer to her

I slipped my hands under her ass lifting it slightly, burying myself deeper in her. "You like the way that feels, don't you, Frannie? This is what it feels like to be fucked by a white man, and not by some nigger school teacher."

"Go ahead and marry your fucking nigger," I told her just as my orgasm peaked. I pulled out, ejaculating threads of cum onto her breasts and face. 

*****

I hadn't seen Fran in almost three months. She had married her school teacher fiancé and they had moved into a small house not far from the one I had rented for her. 

I stood at her front door knocking for what seemed a long time and finally heard someone on the other side slowly opening the door. It was as if no time had passed between us and at the first sight of her in the doorway, I could feel a strong flush of desire course through me.

"Hello, Fran." I greeted her.

She stood there in stunned silence. Her smile having faded and her eyes suddenly dulled.

"Mr. Jeffries, what are you doing here?" She finally asked.

"Why I came to see you, Fran. Aren't you going to ask me in?"

"No, I'm sorry, I can't. Steven, I mean my husband's not, not home," she stuttered.

"Maybe you should stop by another time." 

"I think this is a perfect time for us to talk, Frannie. Why don't you make me a cup of coffee and we can sit down and chat." I moved closer to her, my nearness forcing her to take a step back into the house.

I closed the door behind me and stood there looking at her. She was still as beautiful as ever, in fact more so. Her warm honey colored complexion seemed to glow, her thick chestnut brown hair was shorter than I remembered, but still hung in soft natural waves to her shoulders. My eyes hungrily took in all of her but lingered on her fuller breasts and the small but obvious protrusion at her waist. My Frannie was pregnant.

I walked to her and placed my hand on her belly, "So, you're knocked up. That didn't take long did it?" I asked. "Is it mine? You were probably pregnant when you married him." Even as I said this, I remembered how it had been cumming inside her. Each time I fucked her I would cum deep and hard, high up in her pussy. Damn, sometimes it seemed as if her pussy would be drenched with my cum. I would have knocked her up sooner or later and on some level, I had been excited and aroused by the inevitability of one day impregnating her.

"Of course it's not your baby." She said with just a hint of uncertainty in her voice, at the same time brushing my hand away.

"Well . . . the next one will be," I said with a lecherous smirk.

In a huff, she turned and went into the kitchen to make the coffee and I followed her, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and sitting down. 

"I've missed you, Fran," I finally said. "I didn't realize at first how much I would," I told her as she busied herself with the coffee. 

"Do you remember I told you before you married him that nothing would change between us? I thought I'd be able to get you out of my system and we could both get on with our lives. Seeing you today, I know that's not going to happen." 

Frannie stood there frozen, staring at me in silence. 

"Jonathan, please, don't do this. I'm married to Steven now. I'm carrying his baby . . . just leave us alone," she tried to reason with me.

She had never called me Jonathan before no matter how often I asked her to, it had always been Mr. Jeffries. My hand found my cock under the kitchen table and I began absently stroking it as she talked. I freed my cock and gripping it at its base, pumped it slowly up and down. I knew she could see the bulging veins and angry purple color of my swollen cock head. I could see the look on her face change from initial surprise at what I was so brazenly doing, to unspoken resignation and surrender. 

"Don't worry, Fran, everything will be fine. Things will go back to the way they were and everything will be fine."

I pushed my chair away from the table and told her, "Now, go lock the door, Frannie, and when you come back I want you to suck my dick." 

I didn't have sex with her that afternoon, but enjoyed the feel of her warm, moist mouth milking my cock dry. God, how I had missed her. I could think of nothing but cumming in her mouth. When my orgasm erupted, I grabbed handfuls of her hair, and holding her head pressed tight to my crotch I shot three strong bursts of hot cum down her throat, pleased that she had swallowed everything I could give her.

I left that afternoon as it began to grow dark outside. After backing out I drove a short distance up the street, and in my rear view mirror I saw a dark green sedan pull into the driveway and a tall, slim Negro man get out and walk into the house. So that's him I thought.

*****

Fran's belly began to grow with the life inside her and along with it my sexual interest and desire. The weeks turned to months, I began to spend more and more time with her. Fascinated not only by her changing body but also her increasing sexual needs and new adventurousness. 

The prim and proper Frances had become quite orgasmic in her pregnancy. Perhaps it was the hormonal changes, I don't know, I just enjoyed it. She actually started fucking me back. No inhibitions, no resistance just an eager and willing partner needing to be satisfied. I fucked Fran throughout her pregnancy and though I knew it often embarrassed her I took particular pleasure in watching and feeling her when she orgasmed. 

Not long after we resumed having sex I called Frannie at the school one morning and told her to come to my office during her lunch break. As the clock approached 12:05 I went to the window and watched her cross the street to my office. Mrs. Martinson, my secretary, had already left for her lunch, so when I heard Fran's soft knocking at the door, I smiled and felt a warm tightness in my cock as it strained against my pants. "Come on in," I called to her.

Fran walked into my office and closed the door. She stood there looking at me expectantly, unsure of why I had asked her here.

"Take your clothes off, Fran." I said in a business like tone while walking toward the large chair behind my desk.

"What?" she asked with a puzzled look on her face.

I unzipped my pants, and lowered them along with my shorts down about my ankles before I sat down in the chair.

Fran hadn't moved. "Take your clothes off and be quick, we don't have much time before Martinson gets back, and I know you wouldn't want her to walk in on us." 

"But, Mr. Jeffries, I have to go back to school." 

"Yes, you do, and if you don't want to be late, I suggest you take your fucking clothes off, Fran . . . NOW!" I said.

Hesitantly, Fran undressed and stood in front of me in her nylons and high heels. Her swollen tits would be heavy with milk in another couple of months, and her belly rounder and ripe with her growing child. The thought of sucking her warm milky tits excited me and I could feel the coolness of my leaking pre-cum as I stroked my cock smearing it over my cockhead. 

"Come here, Fran, sit in my lap." 

She walked to me and reluctantly spread her legs so that she stood with one leg on each side of me. I remember her sudden intake of air when I pulled her down onto my erection. I loved the way it looked, the contrast of my white cock sliding in and out of her darker pussy. With my increasing excitement, I began thrusting upward into her as my movement became more insistent. Her moaning became louder and I knew she was close. I pulled out of her and put my hands around her waist. I lifted her hips guiding them up and down on my swollen cockhead teasing the entrance of her pussy, coaxing her pussy to open and accommodate me. 

"Oh," she whispered as her arms encircled my neck, "it feels wonderful. Yes, yes, please, just like that... I can feel it starting." Frannie closed her eyes and tilted her hips slightly forward so she could feel my rigid cock rubbing against her clit with each stroke. Within seconds, I heard her gasp and felt her body begin to quiver as her pale brown pussy contracted and released around my thick, swollen white cock. 

She held onto me as I pushed myself deeper inside her. "Your pussy is so tight," I groaned, my strokes becoming quicker and shorter as I fucked into her hard and desperately. I could feel myself growing and going deep, deep inside her. "Oh god, Frannie, I'm going to cum!" Just as the words were said, my cock erupted and spurt after spurt of warm, thick wetness flooded her pussy.

I remained inside of her, and sighed when the head of my cock slipped out of her with a wet noise. Frannie dressed, combed her hair and fixed her makeup, once again, the attractive, proper and respectable colored lady. I kissed her and patted her ass when she left my office. I went to the window and saw her heading back to school, imagining her panties damp with my cum.

*****

Fran's husband Steven was out of town and it was after midnight, when I opened the back door and entered the house. I went into the kitchen for a beer and as quietly as I could climbed the stairs and went into the bedroom. Fran had kicked the covers off and she lay curled up her side, her hair in sexy disarray on her pillows, the shape of her pregnant belly obvious in the dim light. Her night shirt had risen up around her hips making her lovely butt cheeks visible. I took off my clothes and finishing my beer got into bed behind her. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her body was enough to give me a raging hard on. I pressed close to her and slipped my hand under her nightshirt lightly caressing her belly, and teasing her clit until she opened her eyes and sleepily said, "Jonathan, I tried to stay awake."




Paramour Rights



"Shhhh, it's okay, baby, go back to sleep," I whispered.

As she drifted off I lifted her leg and rested it on my hip, chuckling when she instinctively snuggled her ass back against me. I parted her slit and gently glided my slick pre-cum oozing cock gradually into her pussy until I was balls deep inside her. Taking care not to hurt her or the baby I fucked her hard until she called out "Jonathan, Jonathan, yes," and I felt her muscles tighten around my swollen cock as she came. At the sound of her voice, I pulled her hips into mine and my body stiffened. Shooting sticky threads of cum into her waiting pussy, making me jerk and twitch until there was nothing left, until I lay there having emptied myself into her. I held her possessively, and we fell asleep with my cock still deep inside her. I woke up hard and throbbing several hours later and after a few thrusts emptied my load into her again. 

I awoke to the morning light flooding through the half raised blinds. I laid there, not wanting to get up. Remembering the night before my cock twitched involuntarily. 

I got up and feeling my eyes on her, Frannie turned and looked at me smiling self-consciously. "Good Morning," I said as I stood there, my attention fixed on her pussy and the large damp circle beneath her hip. I grinned at the thought of my cum slowly seeping from her thoroughly fucked pussy onto her crisp white bed sheets.

Something was happening between Fran and me, and it frankly scared the crap out of me to think about where it could lead and who might be affected. Though I wasn't necessarily concerned for myself, I was for Fran, and in my selfishness, I wasn't ready to give her up. To no avail, Fran had repeatedly tried to end it before things got so out of hand that both our lives were ruined.

*****

Due more to my own ego and over confidence in myself and my influence in the town I had not been as careful as I should have been and Fran was paying the price of my indiscretion. Rumors and gossip had started to circulate in the colored section about a white man paying visits to the house on Greer Road. My car was seen parked in front of the house at all hours of the day, and when her husband was out of town, it was often there overnight. 

I was having drinks one evening with my oldest friend Bill Lindsey, when he hesitantly broached the subject of Fran and me.

"Jon, I know it's none of my business, but I consider myself your friend and I can't keep my mouth shut any longer, and not get this off my chest."

"You're right, Bill, it is none of your business."

There was a long silence and then Bill began, "Is it worth it Jon? Is it worth risking your career and future over a little nigger girl? I know she looks white, but everyone in town knows what she is." 

Damn it, Jon, Elizabeth has already left you and begun divorce proceedings . . . what more of a wakeup do you need?"

I slammed my glass down on the table and glaring at him, said, "I don't give a damn about that bitch Elizabeth. Our marriage was dead and over with a long time ago, we were just waiting for the burial. Fran had nothing to do with that fiasco of a marriage."

"Listen to me Jon, if you care for this girl then end it, stop seeing her. Send her away if you have to. Whatever the fallout from this turns out to be, it's going to affect her more than it will you. 

You know the school board has suspended Fran from her teaching job, don't you? I don't think anyone would have really cared about what you do, but you've thrown this relationship in their faces, upsetting some of the town's busy bodies and moral arbiters. Jon, there are even rumors going around that the baby she's carrying is yours. "

"They can't do that, I'm on the board!" I protested.

"Well, they did. . ." Bill added sarcastically. "Fuck it Jon, I really wish I knew what I could say to you to make you stop thinking with your dick." 

*****

"This is your doing! If you had just left me alone," was the last thing Fran had said to me. 

I tried calling her several times that afternoon, but she wouldn't answer the phone. The next day, I left my office mid-afternoon and drove to her house to talk to her. 

She opened the door and I could see the tears in her eyes, "Go away," she said and tried to shut the door.

"I have to talk to you, Fran." 

"No, there's nothing for us to talk about. None of this would have ever happened if it hadn't be for you. They've suspended me. They said my moral behavior is sorely lacking and that I am not a good role model for the children. Do you think I don't know why this is happening? You're the rich, important white man and I'm just the nigger school teacher!" she shouted. "Aside from a little embarrassment, your life goes on as it always has, but mine doesn't. To them, I'm just your whore."

I was surprised and strangely aroused by the way she was talking. It was so out of character for her.

I reached out to hold her and she slapped my hands away, "It's always been about you, what you want." But it's my life that's ruined." She cried, her tears falling in large, heavy drops.

I pulled her to me and she struggled to break free of my hold. "Let go of me," she kept repeating, "just let go of me."

"Fran, stop, this isn't good for your baby." I held her, wanting to comfort and protect her and yet feeling that familiar heat between us. Holding her gaze in mine, I opened her bathrobe and let it slip to the floor as my hands fondled her warm, heavy breasts, and lightly caressed her belly. She leaned forward resting her head on my chest and I ran my fingers through her hair brushing it back from her face and kissed her again, my tongue hungry for her mouth, demanding, exploring.

"Shhhh, no more crying, I'll take care of everything . . . you know I will . . . trust me Fran."

Frannie broke our kiss and looked into my face, her eyes large and shining, searching, "I want to trust you, Jonathan," she said sounding like a little girl and not the young desirable woman standing in front of me. In the late afternoon coolness of the bedroom, Frannie removed my clothes. Her warm, moist mouth kissed, licked and sucked my nipples until they were hard, and sensitive. I could feel her teeth gently bite and tease each nipple and with each playful bite, my cock would jerk hard in reflex.

She knelt at my feet and encircling my waist with her arms began to lick the length of my cock in broad soft swipes from base to head. When I became rigid and my balls a tight hard sac pulled snug to my body, she enveloped my cockhead in her small, tight mouth. With each stroke, my sensitive cockhead would rub against the roof of her mouth sending sensual chills racing through me. I looked down at her, fighting the growing urge to cum, "No, Frannie, this is not why I came here," I said as I made to withdraw. My beautiful Frannie held my hips tighter and pressed me into her mouth again. In and out, her tongue flicking over my shaft, her mouth sucking and milking. My legs trembled, and I groaned deep in my chest with the awesome pleasure her mouth was giving me.

"I'm going to cum Fran, I'm going to cum . . ."

"No, don't, not yet."

Frannie pulled me down to the floor and onto my back. Moving slowly she mounted me and positioned herself over my hard, throbbing cock. Bending her knees and squatting she lowered herself so that her pussy cradled my cockhead at its opening. I thrust my hips upward and she whimpered as my huge cockhead spread her pussy lips. I watched her carefully slide up and down my shaft until her body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and her breathing became shallow and quick. She was mesmerizing, her full sensual mouth slightly open, her swollen breasts swaying with each movement of her body, her beautiful round belly, heavy with a child that could have been mine. She began to cry again as she rode me, my thick pole swallowed again and again by her tight, young pregnant pussy. Looking up at her, I could see the tears roll down her cheeks splashing onto her breast, and seeing her tears made my dick pulse and throb inside her pussy even harder.

"Fran, don't . . . baby don't cry, everything will be fine." I tried to reassure her as her pussy contracted hard around my cock, holding it inside her. I lay there, my cock throbbing and my balls churning for release when I felt Fran's body stiffen, and then the sound of my name as she gave in to an intense orgasm. I held her hips, pressing her wet pussy tight against the base of my cock. When her orgasm began to fade, I lifted her hips off of my cock and placed her on her side. Moving behind her, I slid my cock into her wet, tight sheath and before I had completed a full thrust into her, I began cumming in thick, spurts.

I spooned behind her, my arm draped over her belly and we rested. After a few minutes, I picked her up and carried her to her bed. Pulling a light cover over her naked body, I stood there watching her.

I dressed and quietly left the house. So absorbed in my own thoughts and concern for Fran, I didn't notice the tall, slender Negro man standing in the shadows.

*****

The phone in the foyer was ringing when I got home. I picked up the receiver and I could hear breathing and someone crying. 

"Hello, hello . . . who's there?" 

"Jonathan, it's me . . . please come," she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Frannie? Frannie?" I shouted into the phone.

"He came home, he's here. He knows . . . please come. He's been drinking, hurry."

"Fran, are you alright? Frannie?" I screamed in a near panic.

In the background, I could hear him ranting, "Is that fucking baby even mine? Or is it his bastard?"

"Fran, Frannie!" She didn't answer and then the line went dead.

I drove like a mad man back to the house on Greer Road. As I burst through the front door and ran up the stairs, I could hear a male voice shouting, cursing.

The first thing I saw was her husband Steven, but he was so engrossed in what he was doing, he didn't see me when I came into the room. Fran's mouth was bleeding and a large, ugly bruise was already forming on her right cheek. 

Steven had her on her hands and knees in a doggy position on the floor stroking into her from behind. "You damn slut! You're not so high and mighty now, are you? Look at you on your knees, your ass up in the air for me." He shouted at her.

"Please, Steven, I'm so sorry. The baby, Steven, you'll hurt the baby. I never wanted anything like this to happen," she cried. He stopped thrusting into her, and almost lovingly caressed her ass and said, "You wouldn't even let me touch you anymore, you bitch. I'm your fucking husband not that white bastard." 

"Steven, let her go," I said trying to stay calm. 

He was drunk and slurring his words. At the sound of my voice, he turned his head and looked at me. "I saw you when you left . . . like this was your fucking house."

"Steven, please stop." Frannie begged him

"Stop? You want me to stop? No, I'm not going to stop, Fran, I'm going to fuck you until I cum and then you half white bitch, I'm going to fuck you in your ass . . . you'll like that, won't you, Fran. Did you let Mr. White Man fuck you in the ass?"

Looking at me again, he said with a shaky voice, "I tried to give her everything she wanted, but it wasn't enough for the bitch. I came home and found her in bed naked with your fucking cum dripping out her pussy."

He was clearly intoxicated. With me standing there, he drunkenly tried to put his cock in her again. He was obviously having trouble keeping his erection and couldn't get it up which infuriated him. I lunged at him and struck him in the face, which made him release her and stumble, falling over her. I was on him instantly, pummeling him in the face furious that he had dared to strike her and fuck her.

I was in a frenzy, and didn't stop hitting him until I realized Fran was pulling at my arm, "Jonathan, stop, you're going to really hurt him . . . please stop." 

"Are you ok?" I asked, turning to look at her.

"Yes, I'll be fine," she said.

I helped her stand. "Go, get some clothes on, Frannie, I'm taking you to my place." I told her. 

"What about Steven?" she asked, still concerned about him.

"He'll be ok. A little bruised and battered, but the bastard will be ok."

After the fight with Steven, I took Fran back to my house and she stayed there for several weeks. To my chagrin, Steven insisted on coming to the house wanting to talk to her and even tried to get Fran's parents to intercede on his behalf. At one point, he threatened to fight for custody of the baby if she didn't come back to him. I eventually confronted Steven and told him Fran wanted a divorce and if he ever came around her again, I'd personally see to it that he was dismissed from his position at the college and that he would never teach in the state again. He finally gave up, and the last we heard was a couple of years later, he had remarried and was teaching at a colored college called Morehouse.

All these years later I can still get hard when I think about the way I use to slide my hard white cock into her warm "almost white" pussy. We sometime talk about the early times together and how it was. Damn, I was a pompous ass.

In my arrogance and misguided attitudes about life, women, race I thought I could fuck a colored woman, use her however I pleased and then walk away, but that's not the way it turned out. There were so many contradictory beliefs back then. You kind of picked the ones that supported your biases and prejudices. If you thought about it, you'd see that Jim Crow, Miscegenation, and Paramour Rights were in conflict with each other, but they worked for the white man and against the black. I met Frannie, and despite everything, despite the beliefs we both had grown up with, we realized there was an attraction, a bond between us that lasted and became stronger over time.

I knew after the first time I took her that she was afraid and intimidated by me, fearing if she didn't comply, that I would take out my displeasure on her family. Though unwanted on her part at first, Frannie's feelings for me, a white man, and mine for her evolved into a warm, loving, and protective union. I think it was the fight with Steven that made me realize I was in love with her and needed her, not just wanted her. I desired her even in her advanced pregnancy. At night in bed, I would hold her and make love to her, make love to her sometimes with an almost animal need. She went into labor and gave birth to Bobby (Robert Jonathan Jeffries) after one such night of love making. Aside from Fran's curly, brown hair, the boy was a spitting image of me . . . there was no question who the boy's father was. 

*****

It was following Bobby's birth that Fran told me about an incident with Steven that had occurred two weeks prior to my fight with him, and if I had known about this, I think I might have killed him. 

He had apparently started drinking, listening to the gossip and rumors about Fran and the baby's father being a white man. Steven had become increasingly hostile and physical with Frannie. 

One night he came home drunk and wanted to have sex with her. When she refused, he slapped her. Fran said his behavior had become so unpredictable she didn't recognize him anymore. He took her by the arm and dragged her over to the bed, where he pulled her between his legs and told her to suck his cock. She said she struggled with him until he twisted her arm and forced her back onto her knees. Because of the alcohol, it took a while for him to cum and when he was finished, he made her clean him with her mouth, all the while calling her a slut, and a whore. 

"Frannie, why didn't you say anything to me?" I asked her.

All she would say was, "I couldn't, Jonathan, I felt so guilty for having done this to him.

When we finally got into bed, he leaned over me, put his hand on my belly and whispered, 'You'd better pray this is my baby.' I could feel the coldness, the threat in his voice and I lay there terrified for myself and for my baby. That night was all about my humiliation, and his control and intimidation."

I watched tears brim in her eyes and roll down her cheeks

That morning after he left the house, she packed a bag and went to stay with her parents' for several days.

I became concerned when I couldn't reach her and after finding out she was with her parents I went to see her. I remembered seeing the dark circles under her eyes and a large bruise on her wrist where someone had obviously had her in a viselike grip. She wouldn't talk about what had happened claiming only that the dark circles were because she had started having trouble sleeping at night, but I always suspected Steven had something to do with it. Steven left and did not return to the house but instead stayed with a friend in Halletsville near the college. When she felt it was safe, Fran eventually did go back to the house. This situation went on for about two weeks, leading up to the night Steven came back drunk and belligerent and saw me leaving the house. 

Just listening to Fran recount her story, I felt my chest tighten and budding anger at the thought of what she must have put up with from Steven. I knew this whole situation had evolved because of me. My self-centeredness had placed her in the middle of an untenable situation between two men who for their own reasons wanted her. A situation where she had no control. 

*****

After Bobby's birth, Fran moved back into the house she had shared with Steven. We couldn't marry in the South back then. Miscegenation (sexual race mixing) technically was still against the law in many places, but Fran and I discretely saw each other over the next year, before we packed up and moved to New York. We married and I set up a new law practice specializing in, of all things, civil rights law. Fran and I eventual had two more children: another boy and a little girl. 

There had always been something special about Frannie. From the first time when I caught her out on the road and fucked her, I knew I wasn't going to let her go. I was Frannie's first man, and despite a rough beginning, she reluctantly opened her heart and body to me and allowed me to love her and teach her to please me in all ways. I still believe she has the sweetest mouth I was ever fortunate enough to experience. We both enjoyed various activities that a man at that time, would not normally have expected from his partner.

Fran and I have been together for a long time, and I am proud to say that I have never strayed or desired another woman, white or black. The sexual side of our marriage has always been good, even now at our ages, she still has that power over me to make my old cock twitch and jerk when I spoon behind her at night and she rubs her ass against my crotch. 

*****

My granddaughter Meredith is on her way here for a visit, she's driving up with her boyfriend. Meredith has grown into a lovely young lady with a sexy, desirable body that even an old grandpa could still appreciate. She reminds me a great deal of her grandmother Fran when she was her age. Gorgeous pale, caramel colored complexion and a beautiful face that's both angelic and sensual at the same time, large brown eyes, full sensual mouth, and volumes of thick, wavy auburn hair. 

From what she's told us about her boyfriend, he's white, quite a bit older that her (she's barely twenty five, and he has to be at least twenty years her senior), an executive with a large company and in love with her. This will be the first time that we've met him. I suppose they figured it was about time, since my little Meredith is very pregnant with this man's baby. 

I haven't met him, but I don't think I like him. From talking to him on the phone, I get the impression that he is living his fantasy, being able to freely fuck my beautiful granddaughter whenever, however he wants and the bonus of knowing that he's knocked her up with a mixed-race baby. 




Paramour Rights



*****

What is that attraction that pulls white cocks to black pussies? What is that lure that makes white men want to fuck, love, and proudly impregnate pussies of color? Whatever it is, it's very real, so real that white men have immortalized it in written and unspoken laws, rights and customs for generations in this country. Damn, even now in 2015 how many staid, upstanding white men regularly slip away from their nice vanilla wives to bury their swollen, eager cocks in warm, dark pussy? Or would do so if given the opportunity?

I did.



Paramour to a Star



"What an insane day!" Lori Richards threw her purse on the couch, startling her sleeping cat.

Taking a deep breath, she headed for the kitchen and made herself a Rum and Coke, fully intending on enjoying her first free evening in weeks. Suddenly her phone rang, and a muffle curse exploded from her lips.

"Hello?" Her voice was irritable and edgy.

"Lori, I know you've worked a million days and nights in a row, but I've got to talk to you."

"Is it business Mark?" Lori cringed as soon as she heard her boss' voice.

"Yes, it is."

She heaved a disgusted sigh. She worked at an upscale resort in the mountains of Colorado, and the rich, sophisticated people that stayed there were usually pompous and absolutely ridiculous with their demands. When Lori moved to the area, she started out as a lowly manager, but now, she practically owned the place. The only person higher on the totem pole than she was, was Mark. 

"Well? Are you going to talk, or just keep me on the phone ruining my evening?"

Mark laughed. "You're a vicious bitch sometimes, lovely."

"Why thank you. That's what happens when ya work for two months straight without a moment for yourself." Lori pointed out, blatantly reminding him that he had just spent six weeks on a Caribbean island. 

"Yours is coming sweetheart. What is it? Two weeks until your generous amount of time off?"

Taking a long drink of her beverage, she finally replied, "Yes. And I do not want to hear your voice the entire time." 

Mark burst out laughing. "You're lucky you're the best thing that's ever happened to me and my company, or I'd fire you for that remark little lady."

"Oh, be honest. You just keep me around because I'm eye candy." At that, Lori started laughing.

"Absolutely. Why do you think so many men stay at our resort? I might even have to get a divorce and whisk you off and force you to marry me." Mark attempted to sound serious, but ruined it with a deep chuckle.

"Oh Mark, you're just what I needed." Lori gasped when she stopped giggling. She must've put a little too much Rum in her drink, because she was already feeling it.

"Don't flatter me. I haven't told you the news yet."

"Oh that's right. I forgot this was an official call. I was too busy badgering you." She paused to take another sip, cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder. "So, what is it?"

"A very famous, very special guest will be staying with us this week. He wants absolute privacy, and will in fact be wearing a disguise when he checks in. Under a false name. He said he'll be staying in his rooms most of the time, and when he does leave, it will be in disguise. He needs a break from the publicity, and needs to be out of the eye of the general population. I told him that we would be most discreet, and that we would appreciate his business."

"Okay. So who is this mystery man?"

"Johnny Depp."

"Holy shit!"

"Holy shit is right. That's basically what I said."

"Holy shit!" Lori's drink sloshed in the glass as she sat up abruptly. 

"Darling, I know you have a better vocabulary than that!" Mark laughed into her ear. 

"You're right of course, but... I cannot believe this!"

"Neither can I. But he checks in tomorrow morning at 10 a.m."

"Good lord."

"I don't know what his 'disguise' will be, but he's registered as Josh Dupree."

"Okay. I'm still reeling from this." Lori's eyes were huge, and she could hardly believe her ears. They'd had famous people stay before, but no one as big as him.

"And please Lori, don't fawn all over him. Treat him like a normal human being."

"Damn you Mark, have I ever acted like that towards any of the stars that have stayed with us?" Lori was instantly offended.

"No, no, you haven't. Don't take offense. I know how much you enjoy him, that's all." She could hear the smile in Mark's voice. 

"Okay. I can handle this. Do we have the usual staff to help out with his personal needs?" Lori was thinking ahead to her most trusted employees, the ones they put in charge of room service and all that when celebrities stay.

"Well.... Not exactly."

"What do you mean, 'not exactly'?" 

Lori heard Mark's hesitation, and asked the question again.

"I told him I'd entrust him to the best I had."

"Okay, so who?"

"You."

"Holy shit!"

"Your language is fit for a sailor." Mark laughed again.

"What do you mean, I'm the best you had? What am I going to be doing?"

"Delivering his meals, and being his beck and call girl. He doesn't want the staff to see him for fear someone, no matter how trust worthy, would alert the press. That's why it has to be you."

"Why do I feel like I've just been dethroned? I practically own the place, and I all of a sudden get to be Johnny Depp's slave."

"Darling, most women would think that's an honor."

"I'll do it because it is an honor. And he is devastatingly handsome, and if you don't watch it, I'll run away with him instead of you!" Lori laughed.

"Don't you dare!" Mark warned with mock severity.

"All right. I'm going to finish my drink, and go to bed. Apparently I have a big week ahead of me."

"You do. There isn't anyone I'd rather have doing it."

They said their good byes, and Lori let her head fall back against the plush back of the couch. Johnny Depp. Good god. Swallowing the rest of her drink in a few gulps, she took the glass to the kitchen and set it in the sink.

"Holy shit."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Lori took extra care in her appearance. She curled her hair and put on a little extra make up, then eyed her wardrobe critically.

She finally decided on a pair of brown slacks that flared out slightly at the bottom, and a cream button up blouse that's neckline was high cut enough to be modest, but low enough to be intriguing if viewed from the right angle. She pulled on a pair of brown dress boots, and threw the matching blazer on, leaving it unbuttoned. Simple gold hoop earrings completed her ensemble.

Lori walked to the cheval mirror and inspected her appearance. The outfit was perfect, the pants tight enough to reveal well shaped legs, but not so tight they were vulgar. The shirt and jacket showed off her figure, perfectly accenting her waist. She was voluptuous. Curvy. And all woman.

She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking and lifting it, separating the strands so that it didn't look so sleek. Ruffling it up, she flipped her head over and shook it some more. When she finally returned upright, her hair framed her face in flowing waves, with enough height and volume to make her look sexy, not like an eighties reject. The brown was her natural, but the lighter brown she had weaved into it looked completely natural there as well. Big blue eyes looked back at her and they twinkled, filled with excitement for the day. 

"All right. Here goes nothing."

~*~*~*~

The drive to work was treacherous. The hilly, curving roads were blanketed with snow that was falling progressively faster. The farther she drove, the worse it got. Lori ended up being twenty minutes late for work over it, and she was decidedly frazzled when she did arrive. 

Immediately, there were people at her side, telling her about one problem after another. Forty five minutes later, all problems were solved or being fixed, and she got to take her first breath since she left her house that morning.

Glancing at the clock above the desk, Lori started. It was five minutes until ten, and their special guest should be arriving at any time. Eyeing every person that walked through the door, she immediately discarded them all as possibilities of being Johnny Depp.

When ten o'clock came and went, Lori began to worry. Several people had checked in, and several checked out early, not wishing to be caught in the midst of the blizzard that was about to strike.

It was almost eleven when the lobby doors opened, and an old man stepped through. He walked with a limp and used a cane, and he was huddled beneath his heavy winter coat. A scarf was wound around his neck, and a hat was pulled down over his ears, shielding him from the cold. He seemed to be having difficulty, so Lori rushed around the desk to his side.

"Sir, let me help you. It's terrible out there, isn't it?"

The man didn't answer, but he let her take his arm and guide him to the desk.

He leaned heavily against it for support, and made no move to remove his scarf or hat, or reach for identification. 

"Sir? Are you all right?" Lori had retreated behind the desk, but started to walk back around to assist the man if he needed it.

"I'm fine." A raspy voice replied from somewhere beneath the scarf.

"Are you sure?" Lori frowned, unsure of what exactly to do.

"Yes. Now, Miss Richards, if you'd please escort me to my room."

"Of course. What's your name please." She brought up the menu on the computer, but froze as he spoke. And he knew her name.

"Josh Dupree." 

A smile curved the corners of her mouth slightly, and she looked up at him through her lashes. "Of course, Mr. Dupree."

At that, he lifted one hand, and tipped his hat upward slightly, and winked.

"Lucky the storm broke, isn't it?" Lori let her smile break out.

"Absolutely. It was a great help."

"I'd say." Lori beamed at him, and entered the information into the computer quickly.

"Mr. Dupree, would you like some assistance to your room?" Lori's eyes narrowed as a couple approached the front door.

He ducked down into his scarf and pulled his hat down slightly before answering. "Yes, Miss Richards. That would be very kind of you." 

Lori picked up the phone and dialed an extension. She spoke briefly to one of the employees, asking her to come and help the customers.

Seconds later, the woman rounded the corner and took Lori's place at the desk, just as the couple arrived.

Lori reached her arm out to Mr. Dupree, and he took it, pulling her closer. "These old bones aren't what they used to be." He said, for the benefit of everyone watching.

He limped and hung onto Lori with surprising strength. They reached the elevators and she reached to press the button. They waited in momentary silence for the doors to open, and once they did, she helped him wobble in.

The doors shut, and he stretched himself to his full height and rolled his shoulders back, releasing Lori's arm.

"That feels so much better. I can't wait to get into my suite." He said, in his normal voice.

"I'll bet. How did you know who I was?" Lori asked, amused.

"Well, Mark gave me a pretty good description. An excellent one actually. I knew it had to be you." He flashed her a grin that she only half saw, because of that damn scarf.

"Of course he did." Lori smiled back, almost feeling giddy. Still, she controlled herself and acted like the professional she was.

"Miss Richards, why aren't you gushing and telling me how much you adore my work?" He spoke abruptly, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I.. oh.. Well, I.. I can't imagine that's what you want, considering your need for escape." Lori felt herself color a little, not only at the question, but at her faltering answer.

"You wound my pride." He assumed a pained look.

"I wouldn't want to do that. You're my favorite actor ever, you're sexy as sin, and I fantasize about you every single day." She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Is that better?" A smirk crept across her lips. 

"Absolutely. Thank you. Now I can rest easy."

Lori gave a startled laugh, and shook her head. "No, Mr. Depp. You've got your choice of leading ladies, and I'm sure that little old me wouldn't be one of them." She smiled, and was shocked that she was actually flirting and bantering with him.

The bell dinged, announcing their arrival at the proper floor, and at the same time he stooped and pulled his scarf up, the doors opened. He took control of her arm, propelling her forward, which was odd considering she was supposed to be helping him.

"This is it." Lori stopped in front of the door and withdrew the key from her pocket. Unlocking it, she pushed the door open and 'helped' him step inside. He turned and shut the door quickly, straightening again.

"My back is going to be screwed up for a month over this." He winced.

"Perhaps a different disguise would've been a better choice." Lori smiled.

"Perhaps." One corner of his mouth turned up, and Lori felt her eyes being drawn to his full, seductive lips.

"Well, I'll leave you be until you decide you need me to be your beck and call girl." Lori started to turn, but his words stopped her.

"Why don't you stay? I was just beginning to enjoy your company." 

"Only just? Now my pride is hurt." Lori watched as his fingers took hold of the scarf and he unwound it, throwing it onto a chair. The hat quickly followed.

"Now we're even. Actually, I've been enjoying it. It's both refreshing and unnerving to have someone not trip all over themselves around me." Johnny reached up and pulled the elastic band out of his hair, running his fingers through his shoulder length tresses.

"How upsetting for you." Lori grinned, trying not to watch his fingers shift through this hair. 

"It truly is." He smirked. "Are you okay with being my slave? Mark was very adamant about you being trust worthy and the best. I need the best." 

"I am trust worthy, and I'll admit I am the best. I started my job as a manager, now I'm more involved in it than Mark is, and he owns it. It's very unfortunate, for I got the brains and the beauty." Lori laughed, and their special guest joined in.

"You know you were wrong." Lori watched his tongue prod the inside of his cheek after he finished speaking.

"About what?"

"You not being a leading lady."

"Flattery won't get ya anywhere." She smiled.

"I'm not flattering you. I'm being serious."

"I'll take your word for it. Now, if you don't mind, I've got to get back to work. Call down to the desk if you need me, Mr. Depp."

"Johnny." He added.

"Johnny." She liked the way his named rolled from her tongue.

She smiled and turned towards the door, and Johnny watched every step she took.

~*~*~*~*~

The next two days were nerve wracking for Lori. Every time someone would enquire about a guest, she'd get nervous, hoping she wouldn't betray their famous guests' identity. No one ever asked about him, for him, or even if he was there. It seemed they were pulling their scheme off without a hitch. For that, Lori was eternally grateful.

The third day, Johnny seemed to need her assistance in everything. Breakfast, the paper. A visit. Lunch, another visit. A leaking faucet, which she herself had to attempt to fix. Back and forth she went, doing his bidding, until she knew he was testing her. At his last call, she slammed down the phone, and marched to the elevator.

The ride seemed to take less time than it ever had, and with each second her frustration mounted. The bell rang, and she stepped through the opening doors. Striding down the hall, she drew herself up short as her eyes fell upon the special guest.

The door to his suite was open, and there he stood. His shoulders were propped against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his chest. When he caught sight of her, one hand raised, and his thumb idly caressed his bottom lip. 

Lori took a deep breath, and continued marching forward. She stopped in front of him, planting her hands on her hips.

"Please, step into your room sir. I've a few things to say to you."

A smirk quirked the corner of his mouth. "Of course Miss."

He pushed off the door frame and walked inside, and Lori followed, shutting the door behind her.

"This is about to be very unprofessional, but I can't help it. I've been a nervous wreck since Mark called to tell me you were staying here. Now that you are here, I've not stopped doing anything and everything for you!" Lori halted, running a hand up through her hair, brushing it off her forehead. "It is an honor, and I enjoy having you here, but you're running me ragged. No one else was brought in to pick up the slack, and I think the other guests are suffering. Not that they're as important as you, but.. You see.. I.." 

Lori's tirade drifted off as the celebrity she so admired licked his lips and began walking towards her.

"Go on, Miss Richards. This was just getting good." Johnny said, amusement tingeing his voice.

"Well.. I just can't.. I'm sorry." Lori tried to control her roiling emotions. "I apologize. That was very unprofessional. I apologize."

"No, I enjoy being taken a task. Do continue." He stepped right in front of her and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I refuse. It was completely senseless. I apologize." Lori went to move back, but his hand stopped her.

"It was refreshing. And endearing. I'll admit that I called you in here seventy-five percent of the time just to be around you." His hand slid up the back of Lori's neck, and tangled in her hair.

Lori's mouth opened in surprise, and her mind stumbled as she tried to find the right words. 

Suddenly, his mouth swooped down, and Lori gasped, unsure of what to do. At the last possible second, Johnny's head turned and his lips pressed against her ear.

"Just spend some time with me. Come up after you get off work. I promise I won't make you do my laundry." His teeth nipped at Lori's earlobe when he finished speaking.

"I don't think that would be a wise choice." Lori shivered, her eyes flitting shut briefly.

"I'm not in the mood for wise choices, sweetheart." 

"I understand." Lori pulled back, and he hesitantly let her go.

"You'll come back?" He lifted one brow in inquiry.

"We'll see." Lori straightened her blouse, and ran her fingers through her hair.

"I'd like to hear a 'yes', Miss Richards. If I don't, I'll call the desk every ten minutes asking for something." Johnny smiled, letting her know he was joking.

"I don't doubt it." Lori stated, as she turned and walked to the door.

"Lori?" 

"Yes?" She turned and glanced over her shoulder. 

"Please?" 

Lori made no reply as she stepped through the door and closed it behind her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The rest of the day took turns flying past and creeping by. Lori did her job. She helped customers, sorted out problems, and twice the phone rang and she was paged, only to find Johnny Depp on the other end, telling her he missed her. By the time quitting time rolled around, she was a bundle of nervous energy. 

To stay or not to stay, that was the question. 

Suddenly she decided. Her life wasn't anything special, and she rarely did anything for herself. She left. After moving her car so no one would see it, she grabbed her overnight case from the trunk. She always kept it in there stocked with clothes and necessities in case of bad weather. Today she was thankful for her foresight.

A half hour after she was scheduled off, she rode up the elevator and knocked on Johnny's door.

As he opened it, a smirk curved his lips. "A little presumptuous, aren't we?"

"No, I'm not. But I will need it. I won't be driving home tonight." Her face flushed.

"Come in my dear. Just where do you plan on staying?" Johnny moved from the door and leaned his hips against the back of the couch. Music hummed in the background.

The door shut behind her with a decisive click. She was slightly aggravated he was baiting her, and she let her suitcase thump to the carpet. Planting her hands on her hips, she finally spoke. "Where do you think?" 

There was that damn smirk again. A man had never looked so sexy with his lips tilted like that. And this time his eyebrows rose slightly in surprise.

The silence grew as they watched each other. 

So did the sexual tension. Lori started. For some reason, Johnny Depp was attracted to her. She was befuddled. She knew why she wanted him. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. But him to her? She shook her head.

"I shouldn't have come. I apologize." Lori stooped to pick up her overnight bag. "I am sorry. I'll see you in the morning." She didn't meet his eyes. Keeping her gaze down on the floor, she was startled to feel his hand stop her..




Paramour to a Star



"You went to all this trouble.. Hiding your car.. Getting your overnight bag.. I can't let you leave."

Lori glanced to the side and he was smirk/smiling again. Johnny's hand came up, and he slid it over her shoulder. His fingers grazed down her arm, and wrapped around her hand. She released her bag.

"That's better." 

He trailed his fingers back up, then let his hand slide across her stomach to the opposite hip. His fingers bunched the fabric of her shirt, and he pulled her around to him. They were chest to chest. His hands moved up and tangled in her hair, then he cupped her face. Lori brought her hands up and caught hold of his wrists.

"Lori.." Johnny spoke as he looked into her eyes. His hips moved against her, and she matched his movements. She was surprised to find they were dancing. His eyes devoured her face, and no one had ever been sexier. He released her face and his hands grasped her hips. Her head rolled back and he took advantage. His lips moved over neck and Lori moaned. The tip of his tongue trailed up to her jaw, and Lori's eyes opened. Their bodies still swayed against each other. She tilted her head back down and met his gaze. Johnny's eyes widened. 

She felt like a siren. She danced against him, and her lips parted. Lori let her tongue lightly lick her lips. Johnny's head dipped in, she assumed to kiss her, and she spun from him. She rolled her hips and glanced over her shoulder. His eyes were fastened on her ass. She stepped backwards and bumped against him. Johnny's hands came to her hips, then he slid them down the fronts of her thighs. Lori felt his breath on her neck. Her hips moved to rhythm, she rolled her stomach, and her arms lifted over her head. She dipped down low and bent over slightly as she unbent her knees, rubbing her ass against him. 

Johnny's hands wandered constantly, his fingers caressing her through the fabric of her slacks. She felt every touch as if it were a brand. For tonight, she was his. His hands moved around to her stomach as she rolled. Then they slid lower. One rested on the top of her thigh, the other slipped between her legs and he pressed up against her. 

The entire time she had felt him hard against her. At that moment, he felt her slacks and panties easily slip between her lips. She was more than wet, more than ready for him. Lori whimpered and her hips jerked forward into his hand. He held her captive, and rubbed his cock against her ass, letting her know how badly he wanted her.

Johnny dipped his head and kissed her neck, feeling the flutter of her pulse against his tongue. He released her slightly, and Lori spun to face him. He shoved one of his legs between hers. Lori thrust her hips against his thigh, feeling the hard muscle beneath her. She let her hands trail across his chest, then down his thighs. She brought a hand up and cupped his hardness through the tight denim of his jeans. Johnny groaned. His eyes shut and his head dropped back. Lori leaned in and kissed his neck, much as he had done to her. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and Lori lapped her tongue across it. 

Suddenly Johnny's head moved and his mouth swooped down and crushed hers. His tongue roved and demanded her lips part. They did. He didn't kiss.. He devoured. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and dueled with it. Lori moaned in her throat, and moved her hips restlessly against his. Johnny's hands caught the hem of her shirt and he tugged it over her head, throwing it aside. Lori did the same to his. Johnny's fingers moved to her waistband and he unhooked and unzipped her pants in record time. He pushed her away and unbuttoned and unzipped his own, while Lori looked on, entranced. 

Johnny smirked and licked his lips as he shoved his hair back off his face. He stepped to her and jerked her pants and panties down her legs. He caught her under her ass and lifted her, carrying her against him to the bedroom of the suite. He tossed her on the bed and shoved his pants and boxers down his legs. Lori laid back and spread her legs as he climbed on the bed. He crawled up over her body and his head swooped in for another soul devouring kiss. His hair fell around their heads , and Lori's hands moved and caught it back, running her fingers through it, her nails scratching lightly across his scalp. 

Johnny reached down and grabbed one of her knees, pulling it up, and pushing it out to the side. She felt the head of him bump against her and her hips jerked. He pulled his mouth from hers.

"I want to see your face. Your eyes as I take you." 

Lori could only nod. She stared back at him as he slipped inside her slightly. Her eyes shut at the pleasure of it.

"Open them... please Lori."

She did. 

He pushed into her, and Lori's back arched, her hips lifting to take him. She felt like she was watching from above. It was unreal. She was not having sex with Johnny Depp. Then his hips shoved against hers, and his mouth caught one of her nipples, and Lori was yanked back into the present. 

She pulled her other leg up and tilted her hips, feeling him slip slightly deeper. Johnny's head snapped up and he groaned. Lori writhed beneath him, and he swallowed hard. She watched his jaw, his eyes, the play of his shoulder muscles as he moved above her. He moved a little faster, and rested his weight on one arm, bringing his other hand down to stroke her clit. Almost the moment he touched her, she convulsed around him as she came. 

He smirked and pushed her leg out farther, and started pumping frantically. Lori lifted her hips and met him thrust for thrust. One hand clutched his back and the other tangled in his hair again. She was close to coming again, and that generally didn't happen, especially since he wasn't touching her clit. They rode the waves of pleasure together, and he leaned in to kiss her, letting her know how much he wanted her. 

"Lor-ri.." Johnny grunted as he spasmed. She gasped as she came again, her pussy clamping around him, feeling him jerk as he came with her. 

With a few last pumps, he spilled himself inside her, and Lori dropped her arms to her sides. Johnny let his weight rest on her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. They lay together, panting. Finally their breathing and heartbeats evened out, and Johnny rolled to the side. Lori lay limp, sated, unbelieving. She laughed.

"Something funny?" Johnny rolled onto his side and looked at her.

"Everything. Look at me. In Johnny Depp's mountain resort suite. Just got fucked, and you're going to leave in two days. I'm an idiot." Lori pushed herself up and walked naked to retrieve her bag.

Johnny stayed where he was, a slight frown on his face.

She returned, and threw on gray pajama shorts and a black tank top. 

"Are you angry?" 

"No. I just feel like an idiot, That's all." Lori turned and headed for the computer. At least she could still catch up on some paper work. She surely wasn't going to show her face downstairs until the next morning. Even if was only eight o'clock at night, she couldn't bare to leave this room. Someone would see her and know she got sucked in by some client. How unprofessional. Tears stung her eyes as the stress from the past several months caught up to her.

The computer screen blurred at the same time she felt hands on her shoulders. She hadn't heard Johnny move.

"You're not an idiot. I am. I took advantage. I apologize."

"No. I wanted it. But you're a movie star, and I run a resort. Things don't always work out the way we want. I don't regret it." Lori wiped her cheeks and stood. "I have to stay here tonight, but I will stay out of your hair."

"Then you better put on more clothes." Johnny's hands ran along her sides appreciatively. 

Lori eyed him for a minute. "What the hell." She grabbed his arm and led him back to the bed.

~*~*~*~*~

Two days later the resort was in an uproar. Mark had to be called because it seemed Lori was missing. No one had called the cops, but someone was on their way to her house to look for her. Mark was frantic. He waved everyone away and headed for his office. He needed to brainstorm.

He sat at his desk and flipped on his computer. He had about a million emails. At a loss, he opened his inbox. The most recent one was from Lori. He clicked on it hurriedly and read. His mouth dropping open as he did so.

Mark,

I am sure you are freaking out right about now. I didn't call because I knew you'd talk me out of it. It has happened. I ran away with another man. *smile* I am taking my vacation early. If you're mad at me, I won't come back. At the end of my time off I will arrive at work on time. Meet me. I will fill you in on how great of a lover Johnny Depp is. 

Thanks Mark. Have Cathy fill in. She's pretty good.

Love,

Lori, Paramour of a Star.