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Southern Hospitality

By: aislin brody



Summer, 1962

I’m having a very awkward time getting used to things down here. Wade has brought me to Mississippi to meet his family, to unofficially announce our engagement. My family, back in Connecticut, knows all about him; they’ve known him for five years. He first met them back when we were classmates at NYU. I went on to Cornell from there, studying History, and he moved over to Princeton, to study law. He often spends holidays with my family; my parents already treat him as a son.

His family, on the other hand, seems to be having a difficult time getting used to me. I knew that it would be a little strange, me coming down from New York, visiting the South for the first time. Wade has told me a lot about his relatives: his neurotic mother, his domineering father, and his pretentious sisters. He detailed all of their quirks and strange practices to me long ago, reiterating everything the week before our flight, making me more nervous about the trip than I had originally been. 

He’d warned me to tone down my brashness, my “city-fied ways”. He said that they were country people, rarely leaving the farm, as he called it, and on those rare occasions, only venturing to the smaller southern cities like Vicksburg or Montgomery. Before he’d come to New York, the largest city Wade had ever visited was New Orleans, and that had been a trip to attend a funeral when he was ten years old.

People often wonder what Wade and I have in common. They wonder what a middle class girl from Connecticut can see in a farm boy from Mississippi. We still wonder about this ourselves sometimes; some days I can catch Wade staring at me in disbelief, as if I am a stranger to him.

Mrs. Harper treats me as if I was a foreigner, and she just can’t seem to get my name right. I’ve always thought that Ingrid was a simple enough name, but apparently, it doesn’t roll across her tongue too easily. The way that she says it, with her intense drawl, makes it sound more like “Ingrate” than “Ingrid”. I think she’s stuck on the story behind my name as well. When she’d asked me what type of name it was, I told her that I was named after my mother’s Swedish nanny. I think Mrs. Harper is still confused by the whole Swedish thing. 

Mr. Harper, an old fashioned man, doesn’t really like me. I can tell already. He doesn’t like the fact that I refuse to defer to Wade. I always look him in the eye, and I speak my mind. I think the first strike against me was the fact that I’m a grad student. I should be married by now. When we met, he’d even asked me why I was still single, wondering if there was something wrong with me. I think he’d like a more subservient woman to marry Wade. He must think that I’ll cause some trouble down the road.

Wade’s sisters seem to be surprised to find out that being a New Yorker doesn’t automatically translate into being a socialite. I think they’re a bit dismayed that I’m not the real-life version of Holly Golightly, and that my life is not a replay of the film, “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”. They thought I was crazy to allow Wade to take me down to the creek behind their house to swim, especially after they’d told me about traveling to the country club to swim in the olympic-sized pool.

Wade and I have tried to steer clear of the house. He loves to drive around; we go for a long drive and a picnic lunch each day, exploring some new territory and frolicking in the grass before trudging back to the fortress that the Harpers call a house. We usually end up having sex during our picnics as well; I’ve already ruined one dress from rolling onto a slice of blueberry pie, as well as suffered from serious sunburn. 

We’ve come to this, rolling around in the damp grass like teenagers, all because Wade is afraid to do it in the house. I can see the way that his family has rubbed off on him. He can fuck me in broad daylight, in the middle of an open field, for all to see, but he can’t touch me under his parents’ roof, even in the dead of night.

Of course, I’m supposed to be the blushing virgin. Wade, who usually doesn’t think about such things, is starting to play into this archaic notion, following his mother’s orders by sleeping in his old room, while I sleep at the opposite end of the hall, in one of the three guest rooms. On the first night of our stay, I tried to give him a good night kiss; he held me at an arm’s length, afraid that his parents or one of the servants was watching, and gave me an innocent peck on the cheek.

But this hasn’t stopped him from requesting the occasional blow job. It’s been a new thing with him, on this trip. He usually doesn’t ask, unless I’m on my period, but since we’ve been here, he wants one at every possible opportunity. Whenever he knows that the house will be empty (empty of the family members; the servants are always there), he’s nudging me, slyly rubbing his cock whenever I’m turned in his direction. Sometimes I give in; sometimes I don’t, on principle. I usually refuse whenever we’re too far away from the bathroom, or whenever there’s no sink close by. I’m beginning to wonder if Wade has some sort of exhibitionist leanings.

This morning, he was practically buzzing with anticipation. We’d found out that his mother would be out visiting friends all day, his sisters would be shopping in Vicksburg, and his father had a business appointment in the afternoon. He wanted to do it in the pantry, asking me to spread the cook’s famous strawberry preserves all over him. I could only stare at him after he made this odd request, but he looked so excited at just the thought, like a kid on Christmas Eve, that I had to do it for him, just this once.

He told me that I’d like the preserves. Tillie, the cook, is known for her superior cooking. She’s been with the family since Wade’s parents were first married; in fact, Wade grew up with her son, John. He’s mentioned John once or twice, but only in vague references to other things. 

Wade pulls me into the dark, stuffy pantry, his handsome face grinning from ear to ear, and his ocean blue eyes twinkling. I close the door behind us, insisting on some small bit of privacy, just in case Tillie comes back early from her shopping. He pulls a jar of a red concoction from the top shelf, whispering that he hopes Tillie won’t notice right away that her inventory has been offset by this pilfering rogue. I giggle, watching him carefully unscrew the top. He sticks a finger in, offering it to me first. I lick it with relish, giving him a teasing prelude. 

He opens his pants, pulling his shorts down enough so that his firm cock points up at me. I slather it with the preserves, making a sweet, sticky mess with my hand, trying to be careful not to get fruit all over the place. He’s eager, pumping his hips already, before I’ve even opened my mouth. I’m hoping that he doesn’t cum all over my face; he’s done that before, getting overly excited the first few times that I went down on him.

The preserves are delicious; I spend a long time just savoring the taste of the strawberries. Wade’s cock is hot and hard, pulsing each time I stroke my tongue up the length of it. He gasps when I lick the head, slowly twirling my tongue around his hole, before sinking down on it with my open mouth. I can hear him moaning now, over the sounds of my sucking. He grabs my head, stroking my long red hair in his hands, guiding me to where he wants me to go.

When he’s all the way in me, I grip his balls, tickling them with my fingernails. He’s making hissing sounds, now; I can tell that he’s close to coming. Just as I’ve decided to let him fuck my face, I hear footsteps outside the pantry door, and voices coming from the kitchen. 

Wade, panicking, shushes me, even though he’s the one who’s making noise. I’m straining to hear what they’re saying. Wade has stopped breathing; I can feel his stifled heartbeat in his throbbing penis.

‘Go on in there and get him out for me,’ Tillie says. ‘I know it’s just that boy in there playing with hisself again.’

‘Mama,’ a deep voice answers her. ‘Maybe you should leave the room. He’ll be embarrassed enough as it is…’

‘He ain’t too embarrassed to be pulling on his johnson in my pantry…’ her voice trails off.

I’ve stopped breathing now, too. Wade has a look of dread on his face. This whole situation, entirely his fault, seems ludicrous. I can hear the devil talking to me, urging me to have a little fun with this. Maybe I can coax him out of his exhibitionist leanings.

I’ve never let go of his cock, even as we hear heavy footsteps approaching the pantry door. I’m squeezing him now, hard and fast, knowing that he’ll be spurting in a matter of seconds. His body’s jerking, trying to get me to stop. He tries to silence the last few moans as he cums, spilling his semen all over my sticky hand. I finally let go, wiping my hands on a towel as he tries to catch his breath. There’s a knock at the door, and I stifle an evil giggle as Wade tries to find his voice.

‘Roy, come on out of there, right now,’ the man says through the door.

‘What are we going to do?’ I mouth silently. Wade shrugs his shoulders, flinching as the man outside pounds on the door again.

‘Roy! You want me to come in there?’

Before we can move, the door opens. The sudden light blinds me, and I stumble, falling into this strange man’s arms.

‘Oh!’ I look up into his dark face as he catches me, blushing in spite of my vicious prank. His hands are large and warm, gripping my arms for a second so that I can catch my balance.

‘Oh! Sorry, Ma’am. Wade?’ He looks at my fiance in disbelief.

‘John,’ Wade says awkwardly, still trying to fasten his pants. ‘Gee, I haven’t seen you in a long time.’

It’s painful to look at Wade, with the wet spot on his now zipped trousers, so I stare at the floor, waiting for someone to say something.

‘I’m sorry,’ John apologizes, refusing to look at me. ‘I thought it was that boy that tends to the yard…’

‘It’s okay, John,’ Wade clears his throat. ‘This is my fiance, Ingrid Logan.’

‘It’s nice to meet you, Miss Logan.’ He looks at me nervously.

In a fog of embarrassed confusion, I smile at him, automatically extending my hand, waiting a second too long for him to take it. As I lower it, I realize that he’s probably thinking that it’s soiled from our dealings in the pantry.

‘John, is he out of there, yet?’ Tillie calls from the dining room. 

‘No, Mama, hold on a second,’ John covers for us, giving us a few precious seconds to make a hasty exit.

---

When I mentioned the rejected handshake to Wade later, he explained the real reason to me.

‘He’s not supposed to touch you, Ingrid. If he ever does, he’d have a lynch mob at his heels.’

‘It’s just a friendly handshake. Is it wrong, even if I initiated it?’

‘That’s just the way it is down here; I thought I explained that to you before we came…’ he sounded annoyed.

I know that Wade is still embarrassed by that episode. When I finally caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror, I knew that John could tell what we’d been doing. I had a sticky film all across my face; strands of my hair were glued to it in several places, and that big spot in Wade’s pants said it all. I’d hoped that I wouldn’t have to see John again, but of course, I’m not that lucky.

Enough time has passed for Wade to get over his embarrassment about the whole event in general, but not enough for him to get past his anger with me. He’s protesting, going on a week-long fishing trip with his father, leaving me alone with his hyper-feminine sisters and his weeping willow mother. I’ve been going crazy, being cooped up in the house, so I’ve taken to going for drives by myself, getting lost long enough to find my way back to the Harpers’ place by suppertime.

Today, I’ve really lost my bearings. I’m in an unfamiliar part of the county; the road I’ve been driving on seems to lead to some no-man’s land. I don’t even think that Wade ever bothered to venture in this direction. It’s hot, and in no time, the car overheats, leaving me stranded in the middle of nowhere. I’m not one to panic, but I don’t know if I should stand with the car and wait for the next passing vehicle (which have been few and far between), or if I should start walking. 

I stand at the car, baking in the brutal midday sun. The first car drives past after thirty minutes, but it doesn’t slow down. An hour later, the car returns on the opposite side of the road, stopping a little past me. I turn to watch the driver get out and walk across the road, and I’m dismayed to find out that it’s John. 

He’s looking jaunty, wearing a Sinatra hat and sunglasses, his athletic frame towering above me. Strangely, he looks around, as if he expects someone else to approach us.

‘Miss Logan?’ he stops in front of me, leaving a huge space between us. Even from this distance, I can tell that he’s much taller than Wade, by six inches, at least.

‘Please, call me Ingrid.’ I nervously push a lock of hair behind my ears. ‘I think the car’s overheated or something.’

He turns to the car, ‘Well, in that case, the first thing you need to do is to open the hood, to get some air flowing.’

I watch him as he inspects the inner workings of the car, using a handkerchief to shield his hands from the hot, oily metal. He asks me a few questions, to gauge the severity of the situation.

‘I don’t know what it could be,’ he looks down at me. I watch my reflection in the opaque lenses of his glasses, wondering if he’ll ever be able to erase his initial wanton image of me. ‘Then again, I’m no expert,’ he chuckles.

I wipe sweat from my brow, and feeling slightly lightheaded, I lean into the car. 

‘Are you okay?’ he looks concerned.

‘I’m just hot, that’s all. I’ll probably get burned again…’

‘I can take you back, or at least to a service station, so that you can get some qualified help.’

‘Thank you. I don’t know the first thing about cars.’

‘Where’s Wade?’

‘He went fishing with his father.’

‘You shouldn’t be out here alone…’

‘I couldn’t stay in the house; they were driving me crazy.’

He laughs, flashing a handsome smile. ‘My mother said you were different…’

‘I bet they all say that about me down here…’

‘Come on, get your things. There’s a service station about ten miles from here.’

‘Why’d you come back?’ I ask him.

‘I was on my way back from seeing a patient.’

‘So, you’re a doctor?’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘I thought you and Wade grew up together,’ I say after trying to calculate the age difference.

‘We did. I’m four years older, though. He didn’t have many playmates around here when he was younger.’

‘So you’re thirty?’ I ask, unabashed.

He gives me a look.

‘I’m sorry; you must think I’m really nosy…’

‘It’s what I’ve heard about New Yorkers.’

‘I’m not from there; I’m originally from Connecticut.’

‘Isn’t that just a suburb of New York?’

I laugh this time, following him across the road to his car. 

‘Did you and Wade have a falling out? He doesn’t really talk about you much.’

‘We just grew apart; that happens a lot, down here.’

It doesn’t take us long to make it to the service station. He explains the situation to the attendant, who gives us a long, bloodshot stare. The attendant, all sweaty and greasy from handling the gasoline, calls over his shoulder to another guy, who emerges from the garage. He also gives me a strange look, putting his soiled hands on his hips as the gasoline attendant explains the story to him.

They look reluctant to help me, openly scowling at John. John, for his part, is strangely shy; he’s almost a different person from the one who rescued me from the searing midday sun. He’s full of deference, now, “yes-siring and no-sirring” to these men who could never measure up to his dignity. 

They only agree to help when John finally explains that I am Wade Harper’s fiance. And even this warrants a simplification, because they still look confused, until John tells them that I am Wade’s “girlfriend”.

The mechanic takes me back down the road in his tow truck, leaving me to stare back in John’s direction. I’m a little nervous again. In the short time that we were together, I’ve grown comfortable in his presence. I feel lost, being forced to ride down the road with this strange man, who looks at me as if I’m dirt beneath his feet.

We bring the car back to the shop, where he gives me the phone, telling me to call up the Harpers, so that they can send someone out to pick me up. I speak to Jill, Wade’s older sister, who agrees to come out to get me.

When she arrives, I get a lecture on the impropriety of roaming the countryside.

‘You just can’t do that type of thing,’ she scolds me as we get into the car. ‘You don’t know your way around, and people could take advantage of you. I know you think you’re a “modern woman” and all that, but you’re still a woman, Ingrid. You can’t just go running around willy nilly by yourself. You’re lucky, this time; at least you didn’t have any coloreds hanging around to bother you.’

I haven’t told her that John was the one who picked me up.

‘You could have been seriously hurt, Ingrid. The nigras are getting up in arms these days. Marching and protesting and everything… you don’t know what they might do next. I know some of them want some type of revenge, you know, for how they’ve been treated, and you never know what they might do… You might have one of those animals try to rape you or something…’

If I were talking to anyone else, I might try to dispute the claim, but since it’s Jill, I’ll just leave it alone.

‘And see? You got lost and had to stop at that awful place. Those men probably took your purse and hid it, after they saw me drive up. There’s a lot of jealous people in this world.’

She informs me of the hardships that the family has had because of their prominent status in the area. She and Wade and their younger sister, Alice, were all isolated as children, because there were no other children of their station close by to play with. The other whites in the area treated them harshly, because they were jealous of the Harper family’s money and possessions.

I almost laugh at the way that she delivers the family history; she’s so melodramatic that she makes it sound like a chapter out of “Gone with the Wind”. I’m still scratching my head over the whereabouts of my missing purse, though. I had two hundred dollars cash in it, but I’m not so worried about the loss of the money as I am about the loss of my freedom to travel away from the fortress for the next few days.

---

All is forgiven, now. Wade is back, and he’s been feeling so guilty about my misadventure in the countryside while he was away, that he’s forgiven me for my little trick in the pantry. He’s constantly at my side, now, never letting me out of his sight. I’ve missed him, while he was away, but I’m beginning to feel smothered by his constant attention.

I’ve been having trouble sleeping at night; it’s so hot all the time. I usually spend the few hours that I can sleep having fitful dreams, but for the remainder of the night, I’m tossing and turning, trying to decide if I should cut my hair short in order to survive the rest of this steamy summer. I’m growing restless, having nothing really constructive to do with my time. I wanted a little down time, to unwind from the pressures of school, but this full summer of endless leisure is not turning out to be as fun as I’d originally thought.

I’m afraid to sleep, now, thinking that if I stay awake, I won’t have to relive the constant dreams. But of course, they’ve been preying on my mind, anyway, especially in the middle of the night, when it’s quiet, and there’s no one around to distract me. The dreams are so vivid that I wake up shaking, with a powerful throbbing between my legs. I’ve tried to convince myself that I just need some time alone with Wade, that I’ve missed him, and that I need his familiar touch. Maybe if we could have an uninterrupted day together, at a hotel somewhere, I would be fine, and the dreams would stop.


Southern Hospitality



I feel as if I’m losing my mind, lying here on top of the starched sheets, fighting for sleep. I’m tempted to go outside and brave the mosquitoes, just to have something different to look at, besides the striped wallpaper and ornate furniture of my room. I sit in the window for a while, staring out at the shadowy yard, searching for the moon. There seems to be a slight breeze outside, so I decide to quietly make my way downstairs. Maybe I’ll catch a few breezes sitting on the screened veranda. Wade has often told me that he spent many nights sleeping on the porch as a child, trying to find relief from the sultry summer atmosphere.

Even as I sit on the back porch, outside the kitchen, I can’t erase the last dream from my mind. It was an explicitly sexual one, one that I could tell that my body was very hesitant to wake up from. I’ve had these dreams before, in which a faceless stranger comes to my bed, and fulfills me to no end. But this time, the stranger has a face. I’ve been so disturbed lately, because the man in my dreams is John.

And I can tell that it’s not some random Negro; it’s specifically John. I hear his voice, and I can finally see his face, his deep set, brown eyes, his hairless, squared jaw line, his slightly hooked nose, his full lips. The dream always begins with him holding me, as he did on the day that he discovered us in the pantry. Sometimes Wade is there, sometimes he isn’t; the shocking part of the entire thing is that I seem to have heightened pleasure when Wade is there. I can never tell if he is sitting right there watching us, or if he is just close by, oblivious to what we are doing.

In order to retain my sanity, I’ve been trying to remind myself that I’ve been having these dreams for ages, and that I’ve managed to deal with them before. They’re just a harmless release of frustration. They usually occur when I am longing for sex. And Wade has been distracted for most of our stay so far; whenever he has thought of sex, he’s only thought about pleasing himself. I’ve stated the facts to him, hoping that he’ll decide to take action, hopefully tomorrow. But I’m not really counting on having my needs satisfied anytime soon.

It turns out that the sticky night breeze only offers minimal relief from the heat of the house. It’s still hot; the only difference is that out here, the hot air moves around more. The other difference is that the insects are louder. I’m wondering if I’ll have dark circles under my eyes, from this constant lack of sleep. I’m not even drowsy yet. In fact, I seem to be more wired, now. Every sound seems to be magnified, so much so that I think I’ve heard footsteps approaching the house. I look around, straining my eyes to see in the darkness, holding my breath in order to listen again.

It’s true. Someone is walking toward the house. A pinprick of fear stabs my chest as I wonder what to do. Is it an intruder? Or is it one of the members of the household sneaking into the house from a late night out? I’ve noticed Alice tiptoeing down the hall, at least once, long after midnight. I have to remind myself of where I am; I’m in the country, and most places are too spread apart for roving bandits and thieves to make much progress. But even as I feed more rationalizations to myself, I can see a man’s shadowy figure crossing the backyard. I’m frozen, reminding myself that screaming can sometimes prove to be an effective weapon.

He approaches the door and stops when he sees me standing at the end of the porch.

‘Miss Logan?’ he whispers. It’s John.

‘What are you doing here?’ I whisper back to him.

‘I was treating Roy. He dislocated his shoulder, and I just popped it back in…’

‘This late at night?’ I cringe at the visual of popping someone’s bone back into place.

‘I didn’t find out about it until Mama came home, and I had some other patients to see before I could come back.’

I move closer to him, so that we don’t have to strain so much to speak.

‘He lives in the shack over yonder, and he doesn’t have any ice, so I came up here to get some.’

‘How were you going to get in?’ We’re close enough to touch, now.

‘This isn’t New York, Miss Logan. Nobody locks their doors around here.’

I grin, remembering Jill’s warning of roaming colored men.

‘Could you get me some ice, please, Miss Logan? I have to be getting back.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you to call me Ingrid?’ I hold the door open for him, leading him into the kitchen. 

‘Are you sure everybody’s asleep?’ he sounds wary. ‘We can’t be caught in here together…’

‘No one is up. I’m the only one who can’t seem to sleep in this heat,’ I pull the refrigerator door open for him. He’s brought a bowl to carry the ice in.

I stand holding the refrigerator door open, taking advantage of the cold draft and the light, to get an uninterrupted look at him. His forearm is exposed beneath his cuffed shirtsleeve, and I can trace several veins with my eyes as he reaches into the frosty icebox. 

‘You should close that,’ he reminds me, probably because I’m letting all of the cold air out.

‘I told you that no one else is up.’

‘Your nightgown is pretty thin,’ he says, covering the bowl with a towel.

I blush, realizing that he could see my beige panties, the outline of my low-slung hips, and my darkened, erect nipples through my sheer gown.

‘I’m sorry…’ I look down. ‘You must think I’m incorrigible.’ 

He smirks slightly, before quickly stepping out of the kitchen, running across the yard and disappearing into the darkness.

---

Wade is more energetic than normal today. I’m guessing that it’s all pent up sexual tension. We’re having sex for the first time in almost three weeks, and he seems to be in a rush, just like when we’ve spent a holiday away from each other. We have the house to ourselves once more; he’s sent the housekeepers out to beat the rugs (making up some story about me being allergic to the dust), and he’s sent Tillie out for special ingredients for some dish that he claims to have a yearning for.

After chasing me through the house, and tackling me in the living room, Wade hoists me onto the sideboard. He informs me, in ragged whispers, that it is a valuable antique. He pumps his cock into me at an accelerated pace, making the sideboard bump the wall with each alternate stroke. He was careful to remove all the knickknacks from the top of it, but he’s left the doily, so that we won’t blemish the wood. 

I’m almost to the point of tears; I’m not enjoying this, by any stretch of the imagination. He’s all into pleasing himself, yet again, and I’m just another hole for him to poke. Even when I put his hands on my breasts, he lets them fall off, gripping the wood of the sideboard instead, so that he can thrust harder. My back is sore and my ass hurts from sitting with my legs spread on top of the hard wood. I heave a sigh, staring off across the room, noting the layer of dust on top of the old radio cabinet.

I close my eyes, searching my imagination for any fantasy that will get me off, something that will arouse me instantly, so that I might be able to get a buzz before Wade’s fast approaching climax. I can’t think of anything more exciting than the thought of John’s large hands on me; his wonderful hands, with their earth toned skin, long thick fingers, and bulging veins touching me everywhere. I latch on to the memory of his hands as they caressed the bowl of ice, and the veins of his arm as they were illuminated by the refrigerator light.

I open my eyes to see John standing in the doorway, staring. I blink, knowing that this is just my mind playing tricks on me, but he’s still there, holding my purse in his hands. I’m too shocked to be embarrassed, and before I can stop him, Wade finally cums, moaning with each spasm of his body. John carefully sits the purse on the sofa, and quietly leaves the room as Wade slowly recovers himself. 

---

I don’t even bother knocking on the door, since he’s told me that no one uses their locks. I step into the dim living room, adjusting my eyes to the muted light. All of the shades are drawn, and the house is quiet. I sit on the sofa, deciding to wait here for a few minutes, before leaving a note.

Tillie told me that he would be here; she said that he usually spent a few hours each afternoon napping, to offset the many nights that he was out tending to late emergencies. I didn’t tell her that I would be coming here; I’d explained my questions away, making it seem like more of my normal New York nosiness. I’ve had to plan this out carefully, knowing that it would be challenging to get away from Wade long enough to come here. Luckily, Wade’s uncle in Vicksburg invited him for a weeklong stay. I pleaded illness, and somehow managed to convince Wade to travel without me. 

I just had to come, to thank John, and I would have found someway to get here, even if Wade hadn’t been leaving for Vicksburg. As soon as I’d found the chance, I inventoried the contents of my purse, to find that everything, along with all of the cash, was there. John had included a note, explaining that he’d just found it underneath the front seat of his car that morning, so he dropped by to give it to me. 

The silence is interrupted by a sound from the rear of the house. I move toward it, thinking that maybe John is in the back, working. I make my way down a narrow hallway to a brightly lit bedroom. I can’t help looking around, to see more of the private side of John. His room is immaculate. It is sparsely furnished, with a dresser, a small table with a chair, and a large bed, with the covers neatly turned down. 

‘What are you doing here?’ John’s deep voice startles me.

‘I’m sorry, I just came to…’

He’s standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a bath towel draped around his waist. I’m trying not to stare, but he’s so beautiful, that I can’t take my eyes off of him.

‘You shouldn’t have come, here. Does Wade know…’

‘Wade’s in Vicksburg for the week.’

‘Why didn’t you go with him?’

‘I didn’t want to.’ 

‘You should go, Ingrid.’

‘Finally,’ I’m feeling bold. ‘Finally, “Ingrid”.’

‘Really, you need to go…’ he’s searching for something in the closet, a robe, I’m guessing.

‘I wanted to thank you, for returning my purse.’

‘All right,’ he sounds impatient.

‘I’m deeply appreciative.’

‘Okay.’

He doesn’t want to be rude, but I can tell that he wants me to leave. I’m rooted to the spot; I can feel my knees turning to jelly. I’m still looking at him, his brown skin glistening from his recent bath. I walk over to him, amazing myself, and I reach up to touch his damp shoulders. I press my lips into his, savoring his warmth, breathing in his soapy smell.

I’m ready for anything to happen, now. Mostly, though, I’m prepared for him to push me away. But he doesn’t; he slowly envelops me in his arms, and returns my kiss. We stand holding each other for what seems like an hour. When he finally speaks again, I know that he’s going to warn me away from him, but I cut him off, with another, deeper kiss.

I refuse to let him go, grasping him tightly, feeling the dampness of his towel and skin soaking through my dress. He’s given up on pushing me away; he inspects my body with his hands, stroking my arms and my back, down to my ass, cradling it lovingly in his palms. His touch is like electricity flowing through me. My body is responding much sooner than I’m used to; I can feel moisture leaking to my underwear. 

I can also feel his hardness pressing into my stomach. I stroke his chest as we kiss more, slowly moving my hands down his torso, like ridged chocolate, to the top of the towel. After letting the towel drop to the floor, I sit at the foot of the bed, staring at his rigid, black cock. I smile at him, remembering our first meeting.

‘Do you have any of your mother’s strawberry preserves here?’ I ask him jokingly.

He gives a hearty laugh at this.

‘That’s okay,’ I grab his cock. ‘I’m sure your chocolate will be sweet enough.’

He sighs softly as I lick him slowly. He’s too big to fit entirely in my mouth, so I stroke his cock with my tongue, slicking it up, making it shiny and wet. Like Wade, he runs his hands through my hair, but unlike Wade, he doesn’t thrust his hips toward me, allowing me to work at my own pace. I can feel his cock getting even harder now that I have it in my mouth. I want so much to please him, that I can feel myself becoming more aroused as I suck him and pump him off with my hands. 

I grab his firm ass cheeks, pulling him deeper into my throat. He’s hesitant at first, but I urge him on, relaxing my throat and plunging deeper, letting him fuck my face. He moves with a slow, but steady rhythm, keeping a relaxed grip on my head, sawing his cock into my mouth. When he doesn’t cum immediately from this I raise my eyebrows disbelief, wondering if he’ll cum all over my face.

He pulls his cock out of my mouth and pushes me up on the bed, sliding my panties down and unzipping my dress. He helps me out of my clothes and stands over me for a minute, staring down at my naked body.

‘I’ve always been a little jealous of Wade. He’s always been lucky, never really had to work for anything. Never had to fight for what he has… Always lucky.’

I look up at him, blushing.

‘I don’t know how he managed to win a gorgeous woman like you. Always lucky…’

As John moves toward me, I’m expecting him to sink his cock into me with one rough stroke, but instead, I feel his hands on my breasts, kneading them gently, and I feel his breath on my clit.

‘Ohhh…’ I’m moaning already, even before he slides his tongue into my pussy.

‘You’re just as sweet as you look,’ he mutters from between my legs, before he continues his sensuous lapping.

Wade has only gone down on me once, and after complaining that he didn’t like the taste, never tried it again. That one time was less than memorable for me, anyway, because he didn’t put any zeal into it. But the way that John is licking me now is blowing my mind. I’m clutching his wiry hair, locking his head between my thighs, mewling and bucking with delight. I can feel an orgasm coming, a rare thing for me. I don’t want him to stop, so I voice my wish. He obeys my command, twisting his long, thick fingers into my opening, and twirling his tongue around my clit. 

I feel as if I’ve been electrocuted with a shock of pleasure. He pumps his fingers into me over and over, until I’m trembling so much that I can’t breath. My toes curl as he rubs his tongue on my clit again and again, and I moan so deeply that it hurts my throat.

I’m in heaven. He’s given me all that I need, so he takes me by surprise when he does thrust his hard hot cock into me. He’s pushing, but my pussy has clamped down on him. He slows down, pushing more gently, lying on top of me, pinching my nipples and whispering into my ear about my lovely green eyes and my beautiful blushed skin, stopping every few minutes so that I can get used to him.

He kisses me long and slow, nibbling my lips and sucking my tongue, when he starts to gently pump his cock in and out of me. His cock reaches deep inside me, even without him pushing hard. He’s filled me, grazing my spot, as he saws back and forth. He grinds his pelvis into mine, rubbing his prickly pubic hair into my stringy red patch. John lifts my legs to go deeper, wrapping my thighs around his waist. I can feel my climax building again, as my pussy squeezes his thick cock. He’s pumping harder, now, and I’m moaning again, whimpering almost, babbling from the exquisite pleasure he’s giving me.

I can hear him moaning now. He’s thrusting faster, and he’s gripping my shoulders, slapping his balls against my ass. I’m biting my lips to keep from screaming, but the feeling is so intense, that I can’t even keep my mouth closed. I can feel moisture on my face, tears; I’m sobbing, uncontrollably, and he’s pumping me at a brutal pace, sending my eyes rolling back into my head, making me grind my teeth. I sink my nails into his back, bucking my hips up to meet his. He stiffens, groaning and clutching me, coming so deep inside me that I feel little spots of pain at my center. I’m so wet, that I don’t know where our sweat stops and my juices begin, but after a few minutes I can feel his hot semen oozing out of me. He’s still cumming, long after Wade would have finished, and he probes between my legs for my clit, sending me off again, giving us a simultaneous climax. 

We’re both panting, after this workout. I’m still crying though, sobbing with each breath. John is holding me, whispering to me, telling me that everything is okay. I know that he thinks that I’m upset, but I’m not. I’m just in disbelief, wondering how I’ve gone on so long being deprived of such intense pleasure.

To be continued…



Southern Hospitality



by greatkahn & Tepperchick

War had not visited this part of the country for many years. It did not creep up silently nor did it suddenly appear. It was expected, almost welcomed by the citizens of the South. Men eagerly joined the forces of the Confederated States with gusto. Things had not gone so well for the rebels though. General William Tecumseh Sherman invaded Georgia with the firm intent of sending the state straight to hell. What he did not expect was the collateral damage caused by his men, in which no civilian, crop, or animal was spared. 

Annabelle Montgomery sat on the porch of Oak Tree Manor, nestled in the Georgian countryside near Augusta, staring out into the sunset and contemplating Sherman's dastardly actions. She was lost in thought when Thomas, one of her father's few remaining slaves, ran up to her. Out of breath, he informed her that he saw men dressed in blue uniforms near the house. She hurried to the second-story balcony to see for herself. She was greeted to the sight of Union soldiers approaching her home. Panicked, she told Thomas to alert the other slaves and meet her on the porch. Then she hid what valuables were left in the house in the cellar and went outside to warn off the soldiers.

As he approached Oak Tree Manor, First Lieutenant Robert Andrews hardly noticed the palatial white house or the slaves hurriedly congregating on the porch. All of his attention was drawn to the young, beautiful lady of the house. She had thick, chestnut brown hair pinned up simply, as if she had done it herself. Her white dress was modest and slightly tattered. Obviously her family had once been wealthy but was suffering many hardships due to the war. She wore a tired look complemented by ferociousness in her eyes. Aside from a few slaves, she seemed to be alone.

Andrews and Captain Hadley dismounted from their horses and climbed the steps to the porch, their company a few yards behind them.

"Miss, we seem to be a bit lost. Where are we?" Captain Hadley inquired.

"You, sirs, are at my father's estate. Augusta is about five miles that way." Annabelle pointed north, "Now take your men and go, because you most certainly are not welcome here," Annabelle finished with an acid tone.

Andrews was startled by her feisty demeanor, but remained silent. Hadley replied, "Miss— "

"Montgomery. My name is Annabelle Montgomery."

"Miss Montgomery, you seem to misunderstand your situation," Hadley began, a predatory gleam in his eye. "We are not asking if we are welcome. Since it is already night, my men and I are staying here until we receive word from my commanding officers, whether you like it or not. Now you can make this easy on everybody and stand aside, or I am sure my men can find something to do with a pretty girl like yourself."

The First Lieutenant could hardly believe his ears. Hadley was used to getting what he wanted and he abused his position to get what he desired, but even he had his limits in place. Before this, the worst offense Hadley had committed was forcing a prostitute to service his mutinous men before they rebelled. But Hadley's actions against this innocent maid were unwarranted. 

Andrews stepped forward, as if to guard Annabelle from his superior. "Sir, I must protest your treatment of this young lady. You must remember that even though we are at war, we are first and foremost gentlemen and must behave accordingly." 

Hadley stared at Andrews in disbelief. "You audacious little shit! You dare speak to me in such a way in front of my men?" He paused to compose himself from his outburst. "Very well. Why don't you show this woman what a gentleman you can be?"

"What do you mean by that? What's going to happen to me?" Annabelle asked, desperate for information.

"Don't worry, little Miss Montgomery. You will be in the care of First Lieutenant Robert Andrews," Hadley said with a devious smirk.

"Sir, I would never violate such an innocent woman. She has done nothing wrong. This is not the proper conduct of an officer, and it would not do for your superiors, let alone your wife, to find out about your behavior with civilians."

"Either you follow my orders, or your family will suffer for it while you think about it in prison. Insubordination is a crime, you know." Hadley's hand went to his holster for his revolver. He wore a calm demeanor on his face.

"I shall take my chances," Andrews stated firmly.

"Tie her up, then," Hadley yelled to his men. The slaves bowed their heads in helplessness as Annabelle was hoisted over the shoulder of a large man and carried to a column on her porch. Hadley stripped off his belt and used it to tie her hands around the column behind her. Annabelle started to scream her lungs out, beseeching mercy from Andrews with her eyes. Her screaming turned to whimpering when Hadley slapped her face forcefully.

Hadley looked over his shoulder at Andrews, who was watching in silent horror. "If you do not do it, Lieutenant, I will." Two men were already lifting Annabelle's legs off the ground and pulling them apart, lifting her skirts as they did so. Hadley undid his pants and lifted out a massive erection. It was as wide as his wrist and it thickened as he stroked it. Annabelle nearly fainted at the sight of it.

"I will do it."

Hadley turned around, his erection bobbing as he did so. "What did you say, Lieutenant?"

"I will take her innocence, so that you cannot," Andrews said clearly.

"Well somebody had better!" cried Kramer, a soldier in the company. He took out a pocketknife and sliced open the front of Annabelle's dress, baring two perfect breasts amid the shredded dress. The barbarian soldiers cheered and tears of humiliation flowed down Annabelle's cheeks. Captain Hadley knocked Kramer unconscious with the handle of his pistol and declared, "She is for no one but officers."

Annabelle sobbed as Hadley reached down, lifting the last of the material covering her and exposed her to the men. The night air and the feeling of thirty men staring at her caused her sex to tingle and a strange, liquid feeling to course through her.

"She's ready for you," Hadley said to Andrews upon noticing the moisture that had welled up inside of her.

Andrews stepped in between her thighs. The men holding her up adjusted so that she was the perfect height for him. He released his erection from his pants and rubbed it up and down her slit, wetting himself with her juices. Slowly, as if to cause her as little pain as possible, he slid into her, all the while his eyes begging for forgiveness. When he reached her maidenhead he stopped, gathered his courage, and thrust fully into her. She whimpered and struggled against her bonds, but the men at either side of her held her tightly to the column, immobile. She realized there was nothing for her to do but look at Andrews pleadingly as he pumped into her body, hoping it would soon be over.

Andrews hated to admit it, but being inside of Annabelle felt like heaven. She was so tight and wet, but he knew that it would still be minutes before he could erupt inside of her and end her torture. If he could only get her to climax, he knew the contractions of her inner muscles would cause him to go over the edge. With this in mind, he reached down and touched the soft pebble of flesh in between her nether lips, causing her to jump. He began to administer a series of short, quick strokes with his fingers until she moaned for mercy.

Until that point, Annabelle's sole thought had been to resist what was being done to her. As Andrews pleasured her with his hand, her thoughts changed to those of longing and fulfillment. She began to move with his thrusts, meeting and withdrawing in time to his rhythm. Soon enough, the careful stroking of his hand and thrusting of his body caused her body to tighten, tension building in her every limb. All at once, she exploded, writhing and convulsing against him. Her inner muscles contracted on him, pulling him to her womb. Andrews let out a loud groan as he felt the multitude of sensations teasing his cock. He sank deeply into her and spilled his seed with great relief.

He withdrew from her, pulled down her skirts, and ordered the men to untie her. Annabelle could hardly stand after what she had experienced. She felt dizzy and weakness consumed her body. Thomas and the other slaves gathered her up before she could fall to the ground and carried her to bed.

"Set up camp, men," Hadley ordered. He turned to Andrews, "Why so sullen? Let's hope that we stay here for a long time." 

Andrews awoke the next day with an intense desire to apologize to Miss Montgomery for the previous night. He and the other officers occupied the plantation's guest rooms, while the soldiers camped on the lawn. He walked down the hall to the master bedroom, where Annabelle slept. He knocked on the door and a few moments later, he heard her call in an uneasy voice, "Who is it?" 

"This is Robert Andrews, Miss Montgomery. I wanted to speak to you about last night."

"Why should I let you? After what you and your men did to me-"

"I feel despicable," he interrupted. "But you must understand—it was either me or Hadley. He would not have been as gentle. His sword would have torn you in two!" Andrews felt a glimmer of hope as the door was opened for him. He entered her bedchamber, and came face-to-face with a tearful Annabelle.

"Miss Montgomery, please do not cry. I never meant to hurt you," Andrews said forlornly. Impulsively he approached her and wrapped his arms around her. Annabelle wanted to resist him, but it felt wonderful to have strong arms supporting her. She buried her face in his chest and wept. He sat with her on the bed and stroked her hair as she continued to cry. God, she smells amazing, he thought. Andrews felt inappropriate stirrings of lust in his loins as he held her. He gave her a gentle, compassionate kiss on the forehead and she stopped crying. She looked up at him, realizing for the first time how beautifully green his eyes were. Suddenly, all of the pain and heartbreak she had suffered, by her father and brother joining the war, her mother succumbing to scarlet fever, the activities of the previous night, seemed to melt away.

She wanted him.

She reached out a tentative hand out and cupped his jaw. Andrews forced himself to remain perfectly still as Annabelle traced his facial features with her fingertips. She began to sweetly kiss his neck, tempting him more with every passing second. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he swooped down and captured her lips in a searing kiss. He traced his tongue lightly along her bottom lip, causing her to open her mouth and let him inside. Andrews groaned as he sank deeper into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer to him. He reached around and stroked one of her luscious breasts. She sighed against his lips as he fondled her, lightly tracing his finger over her nipple and then palming her firmly.

He unlaced her nightgown and helped her out of it. He admired her perfect curves and creamy skin as she pushed him onto his back. There was nothing left of the humiliated and embarrassed Miss Montgomery from the night before. She straddled him and began to undo his trousers when he stopped her.

"Miss Montgomery, we cannot do this. You must be very sore from last night and I have no wish to harm you further."

"Call me Annabelle." She looked annoyed but complied with his wishes, removing her hands from his pants. Instead, she began to move on him, rubbing where she ached most in an effort to relieve the tension building inside of her. 

"Let me help you with that, Annabelle." Andrews gave her a small smile as he put a hand on the small of her back and pulled her forward until she was straddling his face instead of his erection.

"What do you think you're doing, Lieutenant?" But Andrews already had his face buried in her sex. Annabelle grabbed the headboard for dear life while Andrews performed wicked acts on her with his tongue. He had parted her nether lips and was stroking her nubbin repeatedly, causing the mouth of her sex to contract on itself. Believing that she was sore, but not too much so that she could not accommodate a finger, he slid his index finger fully into her. Once again, he succeeded in bringing her to orgasm, and for the second time in her life, Annabelle felt her body explode. Andrews's face was flooded with her juices as she convulsed around his finger. He pulled his finger from her and drank up every sweet drop.

"Please make love to me, Lieutenant Andrews," Annabelle begged after she had regained her breath. Andrews was prepared to say no, but stopped himself when he saw the look in her eyes. Her beautiful eyes, which were normally chestnut brown like her hair, had darkened to a smoldering black. They spoke of a need that only he could fulfill. He grasped her hips and shifted her so that her legs were sprawled on either side of his and undid his pants, releasing his throbbing erection. He was poised at her gate, about to thrust into her. A terrible knock sounded at her door and disrupted the two.

"Miss Montgomery? I have come to speak with you. Do not think to hide from me, girl." It was Captain Hadley. Horrified, Annabelle turned to Andrews.

"He cannot know that you are here with me—I'm the enemy! Please hide. I will handle him and send him away." Andrews helped her dress and stepped onto the balcony just as she opened the door to Hadley. Below, he could see the men resting quietly in the coolness of the morning. A soldier left his tent followed by a female slave adjusting her dress.

What had he almost done? Andrews pondered his actions of the previous night and of that morning. He had gone to her chamber to apologize to her, and instead he ended up making love to her with his mouth. He had been reared a gentleman; he should have treated Annabelle like the lady she was, not a common whore. Furthermore, she was right—she was the enemy. Her father and brothers were enlisted in the rebel army. They were the people Andrews fought on the battlefields, who killed his family and friends. Why did Annabelle seem like the only good, decent person in this war? Why did Captain Hadley, a man in his own company, seem like the one he should be fighting?

Andrews turned his attention to what was occurring in Annabelle's bedroom just in time to hear Hadley shout.

"Stay still, you little whore! Stop wriggling and spread your legs for me!" 

Andrews barged into the chamber where he saw Captain Hadley straddling a wildly frightened Annabelle. Her nightgown had been torn and Hadley was viciously pinching a distended nipple and grinding his hips against her. Andrews rushed forward and heaved Hadley off of her.

"What in hell?!" Hadley was so confused, he did not have time to register that Andrews was swinging at him. Andrews punched him square in the jaw and he went down like a sack of potatoes, unconscious.

Andrews and Annabelle looked at each other. "He will have you killed for certain!" Annabelle exclaimed. "Come, we must hide!" She grabbed his hand and they ran out into the hall. Without being seen, they managed to find the room he stayed in the previous night and locked the door. 

"What are we to do?" Annabelle seemed panicked.

"Just calm down and listen to me. No one is going to kill me."

"But Captain Hadley will be so angry! Of course he will wish you dead after what happened."

Andrews held up a hand to silence her before she could protest. "It will be all right. Do not worry."

A look of confusion washed over her face at his words of comfort. "I don't want to lose you." Her eyes became misty. "Make love to me now, Robert. This may be our last chance!"

At hearing his name, Andrews looked so strange that she felt compelled to ask, "That is your name, is it not? I distinctly remember the captain called you Robert Andrews."

"No one has called me Robert in years." Andrews looked at her fondly and Annabelle thought that he might capitulate. "But I cannot treat you in such a way. You deserve so much more, Annabelle."

"That is a lie. You have satisfied me in ways I could never imagine, and yet I desire more. Please Robert, give me more." She smiled as she said his name, sitting on the bed and gesturing for him to join her. Aroused by the thought of what he might do to her, she felt her nipples tighten painfully. He could see them stand through the sheer gown. 

Andrews gave one last groan of resistance and joined her on the bed. He lay back and pulled her on top of him. "You must be on top, Annabelle. Control how much of me you want to take, and stop if you feel any pain at all."

"I want all of you and I shall never stop!" Annabelle declared as she lifted her gown and settled over him. His cock sprang free of his trousers and he guided it to the entrance of her slick, warm sex. He held it in place for her.

"Lower yourself gently, my dear. Very slowly and gently." But Annabelle did not heed him. As soon as she felt him pressed against her opening, she impaled herself on him in one swift movement. She heard Andrews emit a small groan. Her back arched and her toes curled. No one had ever told her that making love would feel this glorious. Instinct took over and she began to move on him, rocking her hips back and forth and swiveling them around. It felt particularly pleasurable when his cock pressed against a certain area inside of her. She continued to rub that spot with his sex until she felt a familiar tension build within her. It almost felt like she was climbing a giant mountain, trying to reach the top. When she peaked, an avalanche of feeling overtook her and every part of her body tingled with sensation.

"That is simply marvelous," Annabelle said with awe. Coming down from her climax, she lay against him and nuzzled his neck like a child. He stroked her long, curly hair, thinking he could stay there with her forever. His dreams of the future quickly turned to horror as he saw a Confederate patrol quickly approaching the house. What he could see from the second-story bedroom window, his men from the ground could not. He noticed that Annabelle had also seen the same thing. 

"What are we to do?" She said with a look of fear worn on her otherwise pretty face.

"Look, they're turning back... they won't be gone for long." 

The horsemen spotted the blue-uniformed soldiers and turned away at a full gallop to bring reinforcements. 

"My love, we have act quickly if we are to survive. Do you have any powdered sugar or fine confectioner's sugar?"

She nodded weakly with tears forming in her eyes.

"Go fetch me some powdered sugar and some of your father's clothes. I'll alert the men," he said with hushed urgency in his voice. 

Annabelle quickly slipped into the remains of her nightgown. But because of the harshness of Captain Hadley, he had ripped open the top, slightly exposing her breast as she ran out into the hall and into her father's room. She found a tweed jacket with a shirt and some brown wool trousers for her lover. She wasn't sure if he had the same sized foot as her father, but decided to bring his boots as well. She also donned her father's evening robe to cover herself from the lecherous men. 

With the clothes clutched to her chest, she hurried quickly to the kitchen downstairs, which sat on the side of the house in a separate addition. While she looked frantically for the powdered sugar, she saw a partially dressed Lieutenant Andrews run to the campsite on her lawn that appeared mysteriously overnight. She saw Andrews speaking quickly the already waking men and a commotion quickly followed. The men ran back into the nearby woods, leaving their tent-city as forfeit. Robert ran back towards the house. Annabelle, realizing she was staring out the window instead of searching for the sugar, returned to looking into containers and jars in search of the sugar. She found it in a clear glass jar hidden with some bourbon next to the jar. She grabbed both the jar and the bourbon and hurried back to meet her love. 




Southern Hospitality



"There's not much time left. The confederates will be here shortly," he greeted her with. 

He began to take off what remaining clothes he had left in front of her. Normally she'd be frightened at the sight of this, but she couldn't help but admire his sleek and firm figure. She wanted to take him and stroke his chest right there, but instead she helped him into her father's clothes and began to smear the sugar into his beard and on his face. His hair turned gray and his face paled with the addition of sugar. He also put on a black, wide-brimmed hat and pulled it down over his eyes. The two of them rushed back upstairs to where Hadley lay. Annabelle poured the bourbon over his jacket and smeared some on his face. Andrews picked up Hadley, who still had a massive erection, and propped Hadley's arm over his shoulder. He motioned Annabelle to do the same and she followed suit. Together, they carried the mostly limp Captain Hadley down the stairs and out of the house. Andrews grabbed a cane by the door and feigned a limp.

Once outside, Andrews could see the gray confederate soldiers lining up just behind the nearby tree line. The two of them carried the unconscious captain toward the Confederates. A commanding officer with two of his subordinates rode out to the three of them. The commanding officer looked prim and proper. He sat upright in his saddle while his gold accoutrements gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight. 

"I--" Captain Andrews suddenly broke out in a raging fit of coughing. Annabelle knew that he could not hide his accent, so she spoke on his behalf. 

"Easy, Pa! Don't strain yourself anymore" she cried. "He's got the consumption and is too infirmed to fight." She told the mounted officer. "Those Union jackals came here last night but ran out at the sight of you and your men." She didn't fawn over him, lest he come back and try to court her. "This one here is their Captain." She gestured to Hadley. "He got drunk and ruined our house. He's the only one left. You're welcome to look for the rest of them, but I wish you'd run those boys down." 

The commanding officer looked more interested in the state of Captain Hadley than at the sickly pale man next to him. 

"Sergeant!" the Confederate officer called. "Take him away," he ordered. Immediately, the man to the officer's right took Hadley from their care and threw him over a spare horse. He tied his hands behind his back and to the saddle.

"What say you men?!" the officer called out to his men. "How 'bout we run us down some Yankee sons-of-bitches!" Soldiers roared in reply from the tree line, followed by a bugle sounding and a drum-roll. The soldiers in gray charged from the trees and ran over the tent camp, destroying it in the process. Within a minute, all the men had disappeared from sight and their voices were only a far-off whisper. Andrews knew that his men knew a shortcut to the river. Once they crossed it, they could have an easier time defending themselves. His problems allayed, he turned to Annabelle and smiled warmly at her.

Annabelle propped up her lover as he limped back to the house. He wanted to keep up appearances just until he was inside. Once she closed and locked all the doors and ran to the arms of her beloved Robert. He held her in his arms while he pressed his hips close to hers. She felt a stiffening length of flesh press against her and she melted at the feeling of it. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him, their foreheads pressed against each other's. He climbed the stairs holding her. They ducked into the nearest bedroom and he placed her roughly on the bed. She loved the enthusiasm and began to pull him into her warm embrace. She kissed him and tasted the sugar on his lips, which gave her an idea. She forced him to roll over so that she was now on top of him.

"Wait here, I'll be back. And I promise you it will be worth the wait." She smiled with a seductive hint at either end of her mouth. She ran downstairs and retrieved the jar of powdered sugar. When she returned, she undid his pants and sprinkled a pinch of sugar over this throbbing organ. With great enthusiasm, she consumed it wholly with her mouth. An expression of glee escaped the Lieutenant's mouth as she raked the length of his penis with her teeth as she pulled back. One more handful of sugar and she found herself sucking on the tip, lapping every square inch of skin to get the taste of sweetness. With both her hands, she stroked the shaft, urging him to erupt into her mouth. When he finally did, she let it stand on her tongue for a few moments and mingle with the present taste of sweetness. She had never tasted anything this addicting before and craved more of it. She returned her mouth onto his penis and let the sticky-sweet mess spill down the length of his mast. She worked it over his flesh with her hands, using it as a lubricant. A look of ecstasy overcame Robert as his body relaxed. 

She moved up the length of his body while still holding onto his excitement and teasing it with her fingers. She whispered into his ear,

"I still have a whole jar of sugar, what are we going to do with it?"



Southern Hospitality



* * * * *

Click Here to listen. (5.5 min/mp3)

* * * * *

Hey lover. My momma always taught me that a real Southern belle always says thank you to a gentleman caller for dinner…and that incredible hard, black cock I had for dessert. 

Last night was amazing. From that incredible dinner…did you see how that silly waiter dropped those dishes when I said…I wanted some chocolate for dessert? Your nice thick chocolate lollipop. Did I suck it alright? A lady always tries to please her man you know.

Anyway, I’m supposed to be thanking you for dinner…and dessert. Which was even better the tamales in hot sauce. Of course, a nice chocolate lollipop is usually better than some tiny tamale anyway. 

Damn, why do I keep getting distracted? It might be how damned sore I am between my legs. Cause Coach with a tool like that your hot, black ass can sure do some damage to this little, white pussy. 

Which brings me back to my point…thank you for last night. You were amazing. Not just your cock either; those thick lips and tongue sure did a number on my clitty when you ate my pussy. I have never cum so hard. Sorry if I got your face a tad messy with my girl juices. You were just too good at licking, sucking and nibbling my love button. Of course, when you tongue fucked my pussy that was pretty amazing too. But what really drove me crazy was when you ate my sweet little ass hole. 

Maybe one day we can try anal; although with a cock like that you better bring a gallon of lube and a bottle of Southern Comfort to get me tipsy too. A gag ball might be nice too; otherwise I might disturb your neighbors. 

But damn, that was presumptuous of me. I have not even had the good manners to ask if you enjoyed the evening too. Although the fact that you came four times leads me to believe you did. I guess it is harder for you men to fake it than us girls, but let me tell you I didn’t need to fake nothing with you last night.

I did though have to fake it today when I saw you in the hall at school. You were so hot in those tight, white track bottoms. I could almost see the outline of that nice black chocolate lollipop running down the inside of your leg. I sure am glad I never had a coach like you when I was in high school.

It was hard for me to concentrate on my students the rest of the day. It was also hard for me to stand and walk, which is why I am so glad that I can sit comfortable right now on the 710 Freeway. I’m heading back to my apartment in Long Beach right now. It is getting dark outside and I am still stuck in traffic. I don’t think we have moved twenty feet in the last five minutes. 

It is so hot in here that I took my panties off. They smell like someone has really been using this pussy hard. They were pretty wet too. Not as wet as you got us both last night with all that sweating. Damn, I loved that. I really liked it when I could feel drops of your cool sweat dropping on my ass while you pounded me from behind. 

Anyway, I just wanted to call and tell you how much fun I had last night. My wet, sore, little cunt hopes that nice, thick, cut, black cock of yours had enough fun to want to do it again sometime soon. 

Did I mention that I wasn’t wearing any panties? Did I also mention that I have my hand under my skirt right now? I am touching that same little clit you licked and sucked last night…and thinking about you. It feels nice, but not as good as you felt.

(Loud sucking noises) I think I can even still taste your cum inside me…even after my shower this morning. By the way, thanks for letting me borrow that old shirt of yours. I don’t think too many people even noticed that it wasn’t really a dress.

Anyway the traffic is starting to move again now. So I will be home soon. I think I’ll soak in a nice, hot tub of water…and dream about that chocolate lollipop of yours. Unless, of course, I can convince you to head on down this way when you are finished with practice. 

Anyway, thanks for dinner…and dick. Call me when you get this message. Oh, it’s me Sadie…if you didn’t guess already. See you at school tomorrow, James.



Southern Hospitality Ch. 02



‘Dammit. Where have all of the strawberry preserves been disappearing to?’ Mr. Harper complains, loudly scraping the sides of the empty mason jar with the serving spoon.

‘You know that Wade has practically been inhaling them since he came back,’ Alice, Wade’s younger sister, explains.

I’m trying not to blush, wondering what they would think if they really knew how at least one jar of Tillie’s strawberry preserves came up missing…

‘Well, that doesn’t solve my problem, Alice,’ the old man grumbles. ‘I’m still sitting here with this empty jar.’

‘Just call Tillie, Daddy,’ Jill suggests.

‘I’ll get them,’ I offer, looking for any excuse to leave the table for a few minutes.

‘Don’t be silly, Ingrid,’ Mrs. Harper says. ‘That’s what Tillie’s being paid for.’

‘It’s okay. I need to stretch my legs, anyway.’

I get up before they can try to stop me again, rushing from the dining room table to the kitchen. I should have guilt written all over my face, about my long afternoon yesterday with John. Wade’s still visiting with his uncle, so I haven’t had to face him, yet, but I’m dreading the day of his return. His family doesn’t seem to notice my new jitters, but they all think I’m strange, anyway.

In the kitchen, Tillie’s standing at the sink, washing dishes.

‘Child, what are you doing in here? Did they call and I didn’t hear it?’ she sounds worried. ‘You know, my hearing ain’t what it used to be.’

‘No. I just came to get more strawberry preserves.’

‘I’ll have to start on another batch pretty soon. I’ll make extra, so that Mr. Wade can take some home with him. He told me that you really like them, too.’

‘I do,’ I blush again, slipping into the pantry to hide my red face.

The preserves are on the top shelf, in the back, so it takes me a minute to get a new jar down. When I finally emerge from the pantry, I come out to find that Tillie has company.

I almost drop the jar when I see John standing there, blocking the light from the door, wearing a starched white shirt and beige linen trousers that hold the outline of his massive thighs.

‘John, don’t be rude,’ Tillie hits him with her towel, ‘Ain’t you gonna speak?’

‘Yes, Ma’am, of course. Hello, Miss Logan.’

I look at the floor, nervous again. His revived formality seems to have erased our entire experience.

‘John.’

‘Have you talked to Mr. Wade since he’s been back?’ Tillie chatters on.

‘No, not really,’ John seems to be in a fog.

I’m standing in front of the pantry, stalling for time, wishing that I could say something to him. He’s turned away from me, now, as if he’s never known me, and is giving Tillie his full attention.

‘Is there something else you needed, Miss Ingrid?’ Tillie asks me.

‘No, no. I think this is it. Thank you.’

‘Well, Mama,’ John speaks up, ‘I think I’d better be going…’

‘But you just got here.’

‘I know,’ he leans down to kiss her cheek. ‘I’ll be home this afternoon, if you need me.’

I hear this last bit as the swinging door closes behind me, with his voice carried on the wind.

---

I’ve made up some monumental lie, something that I imagined would provide me with an adequate alibi for the afternoon. Alice had once suggested that I join her on her next visit to the beauty parlor in town, but I had gently rebuffed her at the time, politely asking for a rain check. She has an appointment for today, but can’t make it, so she offers her time slot to me. I gratefully take it, announcing a fictitiously lengthy itinerary to excuse myself for the entire afternoon. Mrs. Harper doesn’t seem to be suspicious, so I leave right after breakfast, heading for the hair salon.

My trip to the beauty parlor is taking longer than I thought it would; in New York, I can find a place that will just give me the haircut that I ask for, no questions asked. But here, all of the ladies are so genteel and conformist, that they expect me to heartily follow their suggestions. Miss Ethel, Alice’s regular stylist, wants to take my shoulder length, auburn hair, and tease it into a stiff, dried out bouffant, identical to all of the other clients sitting around the place. I balk at this, leading her to wrinkle her eyebrows at me in confusion. 

‘But, Ingrid, it’s the latest thing…’ she tries to convince me.

‘Not in New York,’ I say, feeling the gravity of my words as her face changes. I can see heads turning, and I can almost hear their ears perking up.

‘Just cut it to here,’ I give her directions. ‘That’s all I want.’

‘Well, is that what they do in New York?’

‘Yes. It’s the newest thing there…’

‘Just a bob? Nothing else?’ she looks incredulous.

‘It must be that baby doll fad that’s all the rage now,’ another stylist suggests.

Ethel is still hesitant; she acts as if I’ve just asked her to shoot me.

‘Are you sure, Sugar?’

‘Yes. Definitely,’ I’m looking at my watch now, worried about losing precious time. She finishes quickly, but she won’t let me leave without at least giving me a basic flip, to which I accede. 

I’m rushing across town, to get to John’s house before the entire afternoon has passed. In my panic, I worry that he’s gone already, called to tend to some emergency. I’m fighting to calm my nerves, resolving to sit and wait, until it’s just too late for me to stay any longer. 

I park the car far enough away to prevent anyone from connecting it to my visit to John’s house. It takes me twenty minutes to arrive, walking a circuitous route, but I’ve finally made it. As I enter through the kitchen, the irony of my situation doesn’t escape me. I almost feel like a criminal, sneaking around in broad daylight, wandering through back woods and isolated pastures to get to him.

He’s here, sitting at the kitchen table, with two places set for lunch. I am starving, but I’m hungrier for him at this moment. I drop my purse on the floor and immediately reach for his crotch, unfastening his linen pants to release his irresistible cock. I’m already realizing the benefits of my new haircut as I slurp and slobber all over his delectable penis; he’s running his hands through my hair, but he doesn’t have to hold it up out of the way. I spread his precum all over my lips, kissing his cock up and down, squeezing it’s thick base with one hand as I grip his balls with the other. I’m determined to make him cum this way, and I notice that the more I lick and the harder I suck his cock, the wetter my pussy gets. I can feel his cock jump when I swirl my tongue across his most sensitive spot. I’m ready to make it happen; I’ve never felt this wild before, and I don’t care if he comes on my face. I almost want him to. 

I relax my throat to take him deeper. He moans and grips my head as he raises his hips toward my face, pushing his cock in slowly. His deep breathing makes my clit twinge, and I stroke his hipbones with my thumbs as I hold onto him. My knees are pressing into the hard wood floor, but everything feels numb. The only sensations that I notice are his fat cock growing and throbbing in my mouth and deep in my throat, and my slick pussy, dripping now, ready for attention.

I’m ready for him to explode into my mouth, filling my throat and my stomach with his copious semen, but he pulls his cock out. I collapse on him for a moment, catching my breath. I can feel his hot, sticky cock resting on the top of my head, rigid and heavy. My hopes are dashed; he’s going to come in my hair, of all places. I’m a little confused, but when he gently pats my back, I move away from him.

He pulls his pants down, letting them drop to the floor.

‘Don’t want to have a big wet spot on my pants for the rest of the day,’ he chuckles.

I smile, grabbing his shoulders to balance myself as I straddle his lap. Pushing my dress up, and stepping out of my soaked panties, I sit on his thighs, leaning into his cock. I hold my dress up far enough to see his long cock resting on my stomach, looking like a wet log against my freckled skin. 

I stand over it, watching the whole time, as he guides my hips into place. He holds the base of his cock as I lower myself down to it, watching his black pole gradually disappear inside my pink pussy. 

‘Ohhh…’ I bite my lips, already trembling from this pleasurable pressure.

He sits as if nothing is happening, watching me as I work my hips back and forth, and up and down, slathering his cock with my wetness. I feel like I’m on fire, and I want his cock to explode, to put out the flame. I can feel the walls of my pussy contracting, massaging his penis, making him grunt a little.

My orgasm is sudden and intense, and he pulls me to him, making me shudder as my clit and my pussy spasm at the same time. He gives me a minute to recover, rubbing his cheek against mine and kissing my hairline. After I’ve come back to my senses, he sits me up again.

‘Stand up,’ he gives me a quiet command. I immediately obey him, scrambling to get to my feet.  ‘Take off your clothes.’

I stand aside, stepping out of my dress and my shoes, waiting for the next command. He’s moving things on the table, repositioning the plates so that they are at the opposite end of the table. His cock is still at full attention; I want to grab it and lick it again, but I’m curious to see what else he has in store for me. 

John lifts me off the floor and lays my body flat across the table. The two lunch plates, filled with sandwiches and potato salad, rest at either side of my head, close enough for me to see, but too far away for my head to touch. I can feel the rough texture of the wood through the thin cloth that covers the table, and the straight edge behind my thighs as my legs dangle in the air. He moves toward me, cock in hand, lifting one of my legs to prop my calf against his shoulder. 

He’s watching again, as his cock invades my pussy this time. He strokes slowly, all the way in, out all the way to the tip, until I cum again, my teeth chattering and my jaw trembling, even though it’s not cold. 

‘Does Wade make you feel like this?’ he asks me quietly.

‘No,’ I whisper.

‘Does he make you feel like this?’ he lowers his body to mine, pushing my leg so that my knee is pressing into my breast. He starts pumping me with a steady rhythm, his cock making sloshing sounds as it pounds into my dripping pussy.

‘Does he?’ he asks again, his breath heavy, and his chest pressing into my calf and my breasts at the same time.

‘No… no he doesn’t…’ I can barely talk at this point, feeling another orgasm approaching.

‘How does it feel?’ he grunts, moving faster.

‘Oh, God, you’re driving me crazy!’ I squeal. ‘Don’t stop…’

‘Does he fuck you like this?’

‘No, oh, God, no… you’re so deep… ohhh….’

I clutch his arms as I cum again, wrapping my other leg around his hip, trying to pull him even deeper into me.

‘Oh, John, don’t stop, please, don’t stop! Fuck me with your big cock!’

This sends him off. We’re shaking the table, now. His balls are smacking into me, and my leg is numb, but I don’t want him to stop, his pounding feels so good. I can feel his body stiffening, and as he pumps his seed into me, he releases a loud groan, making me mewl with pleasure as my pussy milks him dry.

In the heat of our passion, I’ve forgotten about the plates, and my hand has fallen into a heap of potato salad. I hold it between our giggling faces and we greedily lick it clean, between sharing deep, sensuous kisses. John has freed my legs now, but he’s still leaning on top of me, feeding me broken bits of a chicken sandwich, and fingering potato salad into my mouth. Just as the idea of licking the salad off of his cock presents itself to me, he raises his eyebrow.

‘I know what you’re thinking, but I’ll have to take a rain check. It’s getting late, and I have some patients to see this evening.’

I look over his shoulder at the wall clock, noting the time, and feeling a little sadness strike my heart when I realize that I need to get back to the Harpers’ in time for supper.

---

It seems that my haircut has caused quite a stir in the beauty shop. Word has gotten around about my strangely simple hair do, but no one in town is brave enough to give up their bee hive, that is, at least until they see this new “New York fad” displayed in the pages of some magazine. When Alice finally saw me, she looked so disappointed that I thought she’d go and apologize to Miss Ethel for my lack of style. 

The Harpers have been busy this week, and luckily, I’ve been staying with them long enough for them to stop feeling beholden to entertain me. They’ve left me alone this week, for the most part, and I’ve managed to see John three more times. Wade will be back today, and I don’t know what I’m going to do when we’re finally face to face.

I’ve grown so used to John, that the sound of his voice makes me wet. Just thinking of him makes my knees weak, and I still can’t sleep through the night, because I’m used to lying in his arms, dozing after sex in the afternoon. He talks to me as I drift off, telling me stories about his childhood, how he grew up, and how he went to college early. Wade had looked up to John, as an older brother. He and Wade had been buddies up until Wade turned sixteen, and developed an interest in girls. John was twenty at the time, and he said that Wade had begun to distance himself from him. This was a natural thing, he explained, in friendships like theirs; it was time for Wade to make friends with white boys his own age. He couldn’t have John hanging around, especially when he started dating girls.

John had been courting a sweetheart at the time, and had intended to marry her when he returned from college. During that time, though, he’d found out that Wade had been seeing the girl, while John was gone. John had forgiven Wade for this transgression, because they had been such close friends, and he admitted that the girl had been a willing participant. He was still angry, but he decided to move past it, and to get on with his life.

After he broke up with his sweetheart, John poured over the books. When he decided to become a doctor, his mother cried. When he told Wade, though, he was met with an incredulous laugh and an immediate put down, with Wade asking him just who he thought he was, believing that he, a country Negro, could become a doctor. This, of course, was the final insult that permanently broke up their friendship.

I’ve been wondering if John is seeing me just to get back at Wade. I’ve been so wrapped up in him, that I didn’t think that I cared one way or the other, but now that Wade is coming back, I can’t help but wonder. I’ve convinced myself that I will be strong enough to give up seeing John. I have to; it will be impossible to get away from Wade this time, and the whole thing is wrong, anyway. I’ll be marrying Wade next spring, and I need to focus on making our relationship better.

---

It’s been two weeks. Wade doesn’t suspect anything. I haven’t seen John in all this time, I haven’t even talked to him, but I miss him like nothing else. I think about him all of the time, and I’ve been longing for his touch, especially when I’m alone at night. I lay in bed, in my narrow, stuffy room, and I touch myself, rubbing my clit and plunging my fingers into my pussy, but nothing moves me like John does. Wade doesn’t even begin to compare; I find his ministrations to be teasing at best, annoying at worst. I’ve been aching for John, enough to cry at night, but I haven’t tried to contact him. 

After the third week of being away from John, I’ve grown so distracted that even Wade has noticed. I’ve told him that I’m sick, and he’s offered to call a doctor, but I’ve managed to talk him out of it. I know that he’s probably afraid that I’m pregnant, and I’m playing off of this assumption, just for a little while, hoping that I’ll get a little time to be alone, to think all of this through. Wade has been smothering me with attention, as if he knows that I’m longing for someone else.

My heart skips a beat when I receive a word from John. He’s heard, through Tillie, that I’m not well, and he’s surreptitiously sent me a note, slipped underneath a napkin on my breakfast tray. I open it and read it, five times, running my fingers along the looped script, and pressing the paper to my face, as if I’ll feel John’s hand on my cheek, just because it once held this slip of paper.

I’m to meet him tonight, at one thirty, a little down the road from the house. It will be a long walk, but I’m determined to see him, throwing all of my attempts at fidelity to the wind. If I don’t see him now, I think I’ll go crazy.

The day drags on, with Wade picking my brain, trying to diagnose me himself. It takes Jill to shoo him away, explaining to him that I’m probably having “female problems”. I cringe at her explanation, knowing that Wade knows my schedule, and also knowing that he’ll worry even more.

He’ll soon be panicking about pushing the wedding up, and about what the family will think.

I have to make myself wait until the clock strikes one a.m. before I head out, tiptoeing down the hall, and inching away from the house until I break into a full out run once I’ve passed the first grove of trees separating the house from the road. Remembering John’s directions, I run at full speed, heedless of the mosquitoes and ignoring the bramble scraping my legs. I finally find his car, sitting in the shadow behind some trees. I’m wondering how he managed to pull it so far off the road without getting stuck.

He’s sitting in the back seat, listening to the radio. I climb in, wrapping my arms around him, kissing him as if it was going to be my last day on earth. We’re already groping each other, pulling on buttons and tugging on zippers, undressing in what must be record time. I’m reaching for John’s gorgeous cock, but he stops me, turning me around, so that I can sit on his face as I suck his penis. 

We’re starving for each other. He laps me as if it is his first meal in days; I’m trying to take his entire cock into my mouth, pushing my head down with gusto, licking underneath the ridge of his cock head. We’ve forgotten about breathing; as soon as I remember to come up for air, feeling slightly lightheaded, I wonder if I’m smothering him, because I’m almost to the point of orgasm. The car smells of sex already, and we’ve only just started. Again, I’m determined to make him cum by sucking his wonderful black cock, but he’s never let me reach that point.

He tries to move me off of him, but I refuse to let go. I can feel his balls churning and his cock twitching as I swill my tongue around it. He’s trying to say something, babbling, but before he can make it sound sensible, he explodes in my mouth. His cum shoots down my throat, almost choking me. His cock is still spurting as I take it out of my mouth, cum oozing out of his hole. I stroke him up and down, making it shoot again, into my mouth, so that I can taste it. His back is arched off the seat and his body jerks every time that I touch him. I take his cock back into my mouth, sucking more, cleaning it, savoring his cum.

After I’ve cleaned his cock, I turn around to face him again, holding his handsome face in my hands, staring at him for a few moments. I want commit each detail of his face to my memory, because I know that it will be a long time before I can see him again. He has lust in his eyes, and he pulls me up to him, so that my breasts are positioned right above his mouth. He takes a nipple between his lips, tugging and teasing, and running his fingertips down my back, over my ass, and between my thighs. I can feel his cock stiffening, so I gyrate my hips, grinding it between our bodies. His fingers have found my slit, and are sliding in and out of my pussy. My clit is rubbing against his veiny cock, and I can feel my pussy start to quake at our constant friction. 

‘I want you inside me.’ These are the first words that I’ve spoken since we started.




Southern Hospitality Ch. 02



He pulls his fingers out of my dripping pussy, and slides his hand back, I’m thinking, to lift me onto his cock. He does this, but once I’ve mounted him, he slowly pushes a finger into my anus, making my eyes blink furiously by the sudden invasion. Before I can protest, he kisses me, pulling my lips with his teeth, whispering to me that he won’t hurt me.

I trust him enough to try this. We lie still for a few moments, so that I can get used to the feeling, before he starts moving his hips. I move along with him, noticing that his finger in my ass feels just as good as his cock in my pussy. Inside my pussy, his cock is grazing my spot, as well as sliding across my clit on the down stroke. Soon, my stomach is clenching involuntarily, and his finger is deeper into my ass, now, making me rock back and forth, like riding a horse or a seesaw. He’s still sucking and pulling on my nipples, sending a shock of pleasure through my body. He lets me move on my own, rocking myself to an orgasmic oblivion, making the car shift and shake.  

He’s still hard and ready, flipping me over so that he’s on top. He whispers into my ear, making my toes curl, and making my nipples burn. 

‘I just had to have your sweet sexy body one more time…’

‘I missed you,’ I breathe, letting him kiss me as he slowly grinds his cock into me. ‘I needed you, to fill me up, to stuff my pussy with your marvelous cock.’

He stops moving, looking down into my eyes before he asks me, ‘What about Wade. He’s back, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, he is…’ I don’t want to talk about Wade right now; I want John to fuck me. 

‘Do you love him?’

‘Of course I do; why are you bringing this up, now?’ I’m pressing my hands into his back, to urge him to fuck me more.

‘Why are you going to marry him?’

‘Why do you think?’

‘Because you love him?’

‘John…’

‘I don’t think you really love him. You wouldn’t be here with me if you did.’

I stare at him, wondering where this is coming from. His cock is still partially inside me, still hard, and I’m itching for him to sink it all the way in, to finish me off.

‘John, it’s getting late…’

‘Why are you marrying him?’

‘Because it’s what’s expected of me,’ I blurt, frustrated to the hilt.

‘Since when have you done what was expected of you, Ingrid?’

‘You’re confusing me…’ I shake my head, trying to block out thoughts of reality.

He pushes his cock in again, just when I’m at the point of putting my clothes back on and getting out of the car. He knows that I’m upset, and he knows that I’m confused, but he nibbles my neck before he starts pumping me hard, making me scream from his furious pounding. 

‘Is that what you want?’ he asks, breathless and panting. ‘Is that what you want from me? You want my black dick stabbing into you? Fucking your brains out? Is that all you want?’

He sounds angry, and with each word, he pushes harder, grabbing my arms so tightly that it hurts. He cums hard, so hard that he releases a rumbling growl. His spurting cock sends me off again. I’m angry with him, for being so rough with me, but my body jerks cruelly, betraying me by revealing my base pleasure in his rough fucking.

---

‘Honey, what’s wrong?’ Wade sits in the chair next to my bed. ‘Ingrid, you have to tell me.’

‘There’s nothing to tell, Wade.’ On the verge of tears, I turn away from him.

‘Ingrid, are you crying? I know something’s wrong now… you never cry. Come on, sit up.’

‘No, Wade!’ I panic, realizing that he’ll see the bruises on my arms. ‘Just leave me alone. I want to be by myself for a while.’

‘Are you pregnant, Honey? Is that what it is? And you don’t want to get rid of it?’

‘Wade!’ He’s making me angry now. ‘Just go.’

I’ve been up all night, wondering how I’ve gotten myself into such a mess. John made me realize, made me admit, that I’m not in love with Wade. I don’t think I ever have been. A woman is supposed to have a man, and Wade fit the bill. I’ve never been too particular. I like Wade; I like him immensely. And he doesn’t pressure me about anything. That’s what I like most about him. He’s not so great in bed, but I never expected much there, anyway. I’ve always thought that something was wrong with me; I always thought it was my fault, that I had some sort of blockage or dysfunction that wouldn’t allow me to enjoy sex. I’d been fully prepared to spend the rest of my days with a lackluster love life.

And why marry Wade? It’s because my family knows him. He’s always been around. He’s the one that they know. It’s too late, and I’m too old, to start them off with someone new. And if I have to get married, Wade’s not the worst candidate. He’s intelligent. Our children will be smart. And cute, too. I’ve been going through this whole thing without really thinking about what I really want, only concerned with what will appear to be normal. When John brought it up last night, it embarrassed me, made me feel ashamed, to be marrying a man that I don’t love.

‘Ingrid, what’s this on your arm?’

I try to hide them, but Wade pulls them out again, turning my arms so that he can get a full view.

‘What happened to you?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Ingrid,’ he sounds serious. ‘You have to tell me. Who did this to you?’

‘No one. I just hurt myself, climbing in the apple trees again.’

‘When was this?’

‘The other day, Tuesday, Wednesday… I don’t remember exactly.’

‘I don’t remember you climbing any trees…’

‘Wade! Why don’t you believe me?’

‘You don’t have to be afraid, Ingrid.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Is that why you’ve been hiding out up here? Is that why you’ve locked yourself away? Has someone been bothering you?’

‘No, Wade. I’m just not feeling well. I told you…’

A knock at the door interrupts us.

‘Miss Ingrid?’ It’s Tillie. ‘I brought your breakfast.’

‘I’ll get it.’ Wade crosses the room and opens the door, taking the tray away from Tillie. ‘How come she gets a better breakfast than we got, Tillie?’

‘Because she’s sick, silly boy…’ Tillie voice fades away as she disappears down the hall.

‘Look at this spread…’ he picks a slice of bacon off the tray. ‘What do you want first?’

‘I don’t want anything.’

‘Come on, you have to eat something.’

Something on the tray catches my eye; at first, it looks like an extra napkin, but it only takes me a few seconds to realize that it’s a note, on the same stationery that John has used before.

‘What’s this?’ Wade beats me to it, pulling the small envelope off the tray. 

‘I don’t know. Let me see it. It’s probably just a note of well wishing from Tillie. She’s sent them to me before,’ I lie.

‘That’s a nice gesture. I guess Tillie really likes you. I’ll read it to you…’

‘No, Wade! Just give it to me,’ I say a little too forcefully.

He gives me a strange look, and even though I’ve calmed down, he still won’t give it to me.

‘Don’t be rude. I don’t open your letters before you’ve had a chance to read them. What would your mother think, Wade?’

Surprisingly, this gets to him. He hands the envelope over to me, allowing me to tuck it underneath my pillow.

‘Aren’t you going to read it now?’

‘No. I want to eat now.’

‘I thought you said you didn’t want anything?’

‘Well, I’ve changed my mind. Am I not allowed to do that?’

‘Of course, Dear. Of course.’

---

John’s letter held a brief, two-word message: “I’m sorry”.  I read it as soon as Wade left me alone, and it made me smile. Even though it’s not written anywhere in the note, I know that John wants me to meet him. I spend the long evening flipping through a book, unable to concentrate on anything, constantly thinking of John. I get so anxious that I decide to start out a little early, sitting on the screened porch until midnight.

As soon as the clock strikes twelve, I make my way through the trees again, moving slowly this time, because I’m sore. John’s car is already here; he must have been anxious as well. He’s sitting in the front seat this time, with the windows down and the radio off.

When I slide onto the front seat, he takes my hand and kisses it, before pulling me to him, so that he can kiss my mouth. 

‘I’m sorry, Ingrid,’ he whispers into my ear. ‘Will you forgive me?’

I nod, resting my head on his chest, listening to his solid heartbeat as I drift off to sleep.

---

Wade and I are supposed to go to the movies today, and I’m almost ready, except for the fact that I can’t find my watch. I’ve looked all over the room, in the dresser, underneath the bed, behind the chair, but I can’t seem to find it anywhere. Finally, after I look in the night stand drawer, where I usually keep it, I find it, exactly where I’d placed it before going to bed last night.

Something else is missing, though. The book that I’d been reading, where I’ve been keeping the notes that John has sent to me, is missing. Soon, I’m looking around for that, knowing that I left it in that drawer when I’d last read it.

‘Honey?’ Wade’s at the door. ‘Come on, now. We’re gonna be late.’

‘I’m coming, Wade…’

He opens the door, standing against the wall for a moment, watching me. 

‘Are you looking for these?’

I turn around to look at him, feeling my heart skip a beat when I see the little white envelopes fanned out between his fingers.

‘No,’ I say calmly. ‘I wasn’t looking for those. I was looking for my watch.’

‘Look’s like you’ve found it.’

‘Yes. So we can go, now.’

‘Not so fast. Do you think I’m a complete idiot?’

‘No, Wade. I don’t.’

I know that he can’t tell the whole story just by reading the notes. None of them consist of more than five words, yet the look on his face tells me that Wade has somehow figured the whole thing out.

‘What are these?’ he asks.

‘They’re notes from Tillie, like I told you…’

‘Don’t lie to me, dammit!’

‘Why would I lie to you?’

He moves closer to me, laying the notes across the bed. 

‘I want you to tell me again. What are these?’

‘I’ve told you, Wade…’

He slaps me hard, making me lose my footing. I hit my head on the side of a table as I fall to the floor.

‘You bitch. Always so cold and cocksure of yourself. You’ve been fucking that nigger every night, haven’t you? Debasing yourself, getting fucked in a car. What happened last night? Were you just too tired from the night before?’

‘Wade, I…’ the room is spinning and his voice sounds extremely loud.

‘Did you suck his cock, too? Huh? Did you put Tillie’s preserves all over his dirty black cock?’

‘Wade!’ Mr. Harper rushes into the room, along with the rest of the family. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘She’s nothing but a whore, Daddy.’

‘Wade!’ Mrs. Harper is shocked. ‘Don’t use such language…’

‘What’s going on?’ Alice asked.

‘She’s been sleeping with John.’

‘Oh, Wade!’ Mrs. Harper is about to faint.

‘That’s ridiculous, Wade…’ Alice scoffs.

‘I saw her with him,’ Wade screams.

Jill gives me a dirty look, as a revelation presents itself to her. 

‘That day, when the car broke down… those mechanics told me that a colored man dropped you off, but I didn’t believe them…’

Wade lunges at me again after hearing this. I duck behind the table to avoid him, but he grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet.

‘Pack your things. I want you out of here.’

He storms out of the room, leaving the others to gradually drift away after they’ve finished staring at me. I’m in so much shock, that I can’t even cry. I mechanically stuff my clothes into my suitcase, not bothering to look for any extras that might be in the closet or in the laundry, downstairs. The only thing that I don’t want to leave is my collection of notes from John, all spread across the bed. In one moment of clarity, I am grateful to Wade, surprised that he didn’t take them and destroy them. 

I’m prepared to walk all the way to town with my purse and my suitcase. The Harpers are all standing by the door, as if they’re guarding it, glaring at me as I walk past them on my way out. It takes me until nightfall to get there, and when John answers the door, all I can do is collapse into his arms, telling him the whole story. He inspects my wound, cleaning the cut on the side of my face, and putting ice on my eye. 

‘We’ll have to leave,’ he warns me. ‘Now.’

I watch him as he packs a few essentials into a suitcase, including a portfolio of important papers. 

‘Where are we going?’ I ask, confused.

‘Away from here. Do you have any money left?’

‘I have a little.’

‘Enough for a hotel?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll drive you to Memphis. You can stay in a hotel until tomorrow, then you can make your way home from there. I’ll give you more money if you need it…’

‘What about you?’ My heart sinks at the thought of not being able to be with him.

‘I’ll go somewhere… Chicago, maybe.’

‘I want to go with you, John.’ My eyes are filling with tears.

‘No. Not now.’ He stops rushing around long enough to grab my arms gently, wiping my tears away. ‘Maybe I’ll come to visit you, sometime. I’ve never been to New York.’

‘John, I…’

‘Shhh. We have to go now.’

‘I’m sorry, John. All of this is my fault…’

‘Don’t worry about me, Ingrid. I’ll be all right.’

‘Will I ever see you again?’ I look at him, trying once again to commit everything about him to memory.

‘I don’t know. I hope so…’

We drive out of town in silence. I can tell that John is scared; he’s left everything, and it’s all because of me. He didn’t even tell Tillie that he was leaving. He scribbled a quick letter to her, mailing it when we arrived in Memphis. He dropped me off near a hotel, sitting in the car, watching me, until I reached the lobby doors. I almost burst into tears at that moment, at the thought of not ever seeing him again.

I’m wondering what my family will think of me, now that I’ve been disgraced in such a way. I’m sure that Wade has notified them already, telling them what a filthy whore I am, and how I’ve embarrassed his family and hurt Wade. I don’t know how they’ll react when they see my face, all battered and bruised, and if they will turn me away, too. Maybe I should have refused to leave John. I don’t know what I’ll do know, without him. And I don’t know how I’ll live with the guilt of what I’ve done. 

To be continued…



Southern Hospitality Ch. 03



Fall, 1967

‘Remember to study the notes from chapter five, because there will be a quiz on Monday,’ I’m making a futile attempt to project my voice as my students noisily file out of the room. I watch them as they leave, wondering how they’ll actually spend their respective weekends, and how many of them will actually study anything before Monday morning. I notice that one student lingers, Jeffrey Wilson. 

‘Miss Logan, could you explain the assignment to me again? I want to make sure I got it right, so when my Mom asks, I won’t look stupid.’

He leans in close to me as I’m explaining the instructions, his dark arm almost touching my pale, freckled one. 

‘Is that better?’ I look up at him.

‘Well, there’s just this one part here that I still don’t get…’

Mr. Martin, a teacher from down the hall, enters the room. ‘Boy, don’t you know that it’s Friday? Get your ass out of here. Go on, get!’ 

Jeffrey rushes out as Mr. Martin playfully swats at him with a folded newspaper.

‘You didn’t have to do that, Marty,’ I complain, as he locks the door, pulling the shade down.

‘He’s starting to make me jealous. He was awfully close to you, you know…’ he stares down at me, stroking his goatee. ‘Makes me wonder if my ‘fro isn’t big enough…’

‘Don’t be silly, Marty,’ I blush, admiring the way his black turtleneck accents his mocha colored skin.

He pulls me to him, kissing me, gradually backing me into the chalkboard.

‘Not here,’ I complain. ‘Remember I had chalk all over my back, last time.’

‘Well, pick a place. Hurry up, because I’ll have to get to going in a few.’

I choose the desk, our normal place to get a quick fuck before leaving school. 

‘My dick’s been hard all day, thinking about you in this wild-assed miniskirt. You got on panties under there?’

‘Of course, I do,’ I reach down to take them off, handing them over to him.

‘I bet you give the boys wet dreams. They’re probably all rushing home right now to jack off to visions of Miss Logan in her brown mini. How many clumsy fellas did you have today? I bet they were dropping pencils every two seconds…’

‘Marty, don’t be obscene…’ I kiss him, rubbing my hand over the tent in his crotch.

He raises my panties to his face, inhaling my scent and noting the dampness of the cloth, before placing them on the desk. He motions for me to turn around, leaning me across the desktop while he unzips his pants. He’s behind me, but I can still picture his long black cock as he strokes it, preparing to put it in me.

He gropes me first, pulling my shirt up so that he can fondle my breasts. He slaps my ass cheeks until they sting, then soothes me by rubbing his cock head along my slit, spreading my wetness around before he plunges in. He’s grunting already, working for a quick cum, because he’s running late for his second job tutoring at a nearby church. His dick is consistently hitting my spot, making the sensual pressure build at a furious pace. I cum with a gasp; my pussy grips his dick, and my body shudders with pleasure. 

I know what he wants now. He’s been stewing all day, staring at me from across the table in the teachers’ lounge as he playfully flirted with Miss Jackson, admiring her new afro. He’ll probably be fucking her, too, in a few weeks, but I wouldn’t care. As long as he still comes to me every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday night, I don’t care about what he does with the rest of his time. He’ll probably want to ram it into my ass, right here in school, as I lean across my desk. Marty gets a real kick out of that; he says that his wife won’t let him do it to her, so of course, he can’t get enough of it when he’s with me.

He’s priming my ass now, fucking my pussy again, but with a finger slipped into my anus. I can’t help remembering the first time I’d ever done this; that night in Mississippi, five years ago, in the backseat of John’s car. John had been gentle with it; I guess he should have been, since it was my first time. Marty’s never gentle, though; I always seem to have bruises when I leave him. He’s not abusive; he's just exuberant.

He pushes in unmercifully, making me squeal, a reaction that never fails to make his cock jump. His hands are sliding over my triangle, his long fingers teasing my clit. He’s moaning now, almost sounding cartoonish, going wild over the tightness of my ass.

‘Oohhh, your shit is so fucking tight, girl. Ah, ah…’ he moans in a strange falsetto, making me giggle. 

I know that I can bring him home, now. I start squeezing him, working my anal muscles, stroking his cock to a climax.

‘Oh, fuck…oh, God!’ His cock spurts into me, making a hot, sticky mess of us.

He pulls out, panting, wiping his cock with a handkerchief. He kneels down to kiss both my ass cheeks, before fixing his clothes, and grabbing his paper.

‘So I’ll see you later tonight, right?’ he asks.

‘Yes, of course. The key’s in its usual place,’ I stand up, walking him to the door so that I can lock it behind him.

---

I still dream about him. I’ve been wondering, all this time, where he is, and if I’ll ever see him again. I thought that I’d be able to forget about John, and move on, but I haven’t. He’s always in my thoughts, and stubbornly, I keep imagining my future life with him in it.

I haven’t seen him since the night that he drove me to Memphis, after Wade kicked me out. I went crazy with worry, wondering if someone would kill him before he managed to make it to safety, feeling incredible guilt about all of the damage that I’d caused. I caught a train back to New York, refusing to see my parents until my wounds healed. I still have a scar on my temple, from when Wade knocked me into the corner of the table, but it’s faded now, only visible up close.

I moved to New York, permanently, taking a job teaching in a high school in Harlem. I rent an apartment in the Village, and the daily trip uptown is like traveling to a different world. I had a hard time of it at first, but once the students, all of them black or Puerto Rican, discovered that I wasn’t afraid of them, they grew to like me. Many of the teachers are suspicious of me, most of them expecting me to be condescending and elitist. Mr. Martin was immediately cordial and welcoming, surprisingly so, considering his militant appearance and his brash manner.

When I first came back to New York, I’d tried to find someone to distract me from my painful memories of Wade and John, someone new and different. I’ve had horrible luck with men, quickly losing interest with most of the guys that I dated. I thought of my lingering feelings for John, and I figured that I just had a fascination with black men, so I roamed the Village from week to week, seeking out any decent looking black guy who’d take me to bed. This tactic didn’t work out, either; I was almost at my wit’s end when I finally decided to take Marty up on the offer of a few drinks one Friday night.

He said that he’d known there was something different about me; I was much too comfortable in my situation, and he was curious to find out what my story was. I didn’t tell him much, but I told him enough to satisfy his curiosity. He told me up front that he was married; his wife didn’t like sex, and he thought that she was really a lesbian, who just hadn’t yet realized it. He told me that he was attracted to me; that he’d never thought of being with a white woman, but I intrigued him because I was different. I took everything he said with a grain of salt; I still do, but I was so lonely and horny, that I took him to my apartment with me after just one drink.

He’d never had his cock sucked; he said he’d never met a woman who would agree to do it for him. I showed him what he was missing, making him cum so fast that he was embarrassed; he insisted that he usually lasted much longer. I put him at ease, finally, by teasing him mercilessly. He proved it to me when he fucked me, making me cum several times, almost wearing me down after a while. After this, I let him have his way with me, telling him that he could do whatever he wanted. When he warily told me that he wanted to fuck me in the ass, I didn’t bat an eye, giving him directions to the bathroom so that he could find the vaseline. It was horrible at first; I thought I’d never be able to walk again, let alone sit, but it felt rather pleasant after the first few times. I soon learned that he preferred to cum that way, and because of this, he always worked long and hard to please me.

Of, course, we’ve kept our tryst a secret; aside from him being married, we just don’t want to invite any trouble. I don’t want a replay of my experience with John, and Marty doesn’t want anyone to find out that he’s fucking a white girl. He has a reputation in the community that he doesn’t want to tarnish, so he always meets me late at night, using the spare key to my apartment, and always leaves before dawn.

---

‘Jeffrey, come on!’ the teenager’s friends called to him, standing in the hall outside my classroom.

‘Wait a minute… I just had one more question…’

‘It’s okay, Jeffrey. I think you’ll do fine,’ I smiled at him. ‘You just need to remember to take the right book home with you.’

‘All right. Thanks, Miss Logan,’ he rushes off, dropping a few stray papers in his dash to catch up to his friends.

‘Slow down!’ I yell after him, picking the papers off the floor. 

As I stack his wrinkled papers together, I notice a small card on my desk. It’s an appointment card, dated for next week, with Jeffrey’s name on it. I shake my head, silently laughing at Jeffrey’s persistent lack of organizational skills. Pulling out a paper clip to attach the card to the papers, I notice the name on the back of the card: John Porter, M.D.

I stare at the name, wondering if what I’m thinking could be possible. In all the time that I knew John, I never found out what his last name was. I shake my head, realizing that I’m just grabbing at straws. John’s probably in California, or some other place a world away; he’s forgotten about me. He has a wife, and children. I consider running to catch up with Jeffrey, but he’s probably long gone by now. And the appointment written on the card is far enough away for me to wait to return it to him.

I’m still fussing at myself as I leave the building, walking north instead of south, steering myself through the littered maze of Harlem streets until I reach the address printed on the card. I race up to the office, not surprised to find a waiting room full of black people, mothers and their children, an old man dozing in the corner, a few younger ones, one of them sniffling with a new cold. I can feel the stares burning into my back as I talk to the receptionist. She’s suspicious of me, loudly announcing that Dr. Porter doesn’t handle abortions and things of that nature. Fighting my embarrassment, and my anger, I calmly ask if I can see him this afternoon. She says that his afternoon is full, but after I pull out a ten-dollar bill, she agrees to ask if he’ll see me after the last patient.

I wait, for four hours, as the waiting room gradually empties out. I haven’t seen the doctor yet, haven’t even heard his voice. I’m beginning to wonder if I was mistaken; I’ve wasted an afternoon sitting in some strange man’s office, while people give me dirty looks and even one old man makes an embarrassing attempt to proposition me.

The nurse calls me in, leading me to one of the examination rooms. Laying my coat and purse on the counter, I hoist myself onto the table, crossing my bare legs at the ankles. The doctor steps in, flipping through a folder, his starched lab coat hiding the shape of his body. He’s tall, just as I remember him, and when he lifts his head to return something to the cabinet, my heart jumps at the realization that I’ve found him.

‘I’ll be with you in just a second…’ he leaves the room, questioning the nurse about another patient. When he returns, he finally looks at me, stopping in his tracks, staring.

He’s just as beautiful as ever. I bite my lip to hide my eagerness. I fold my hands into my lap, silently waiting for him to say something. I want to appear calm and collected, but my heart wants me to leap into his arms and kiss him.

‘Ingrid?’ he looks confused.

I smile at him with tears rolling down my cheeks. He moves toward me, putting his arms around me.

‘Don’t cry,’ he holds me tight, stroking my hair and my back with his strong hands, kissing my forehead with his plump, warm lips.

‘Where did you come from?’ he sounds incredulous.

‘Down the street, around the corner,’ I manage to say. ‘I teach at the high school, a few blocks from here.’

‘We’ve probably walked down the same street at the same time, and never saw each other,’ he mutters. ‘How did you find me?’

I hand him the appointment card.

‘Jeffrey.’ He shakes his head. ‘He’s one of your students?’

I nod.

‘That boy would lose his head if it wasn’t attached…’ 

‘I took a chance. I didn’t think I’d find you,’ I admit.

‘You sat here all this time?’ he looks at me. He laughs.

‘What is it?’

‘Well, I’ve had a very long day… when the receptionist told me about you... well, let me just say that the nurse and I have been trading insults about you all afternoon.’

I laugh. 

‘I’m glad you stayed. Will you come to dinner with me?’

‘I’d love to.’

He takes me a few blocks away, near the high school, to a soul food kitchen.

‘This place reminds me of my mother’s cooking,’ he says. ‘It’s not as good as hers, but it’s close enough.’

‘How is she?’ 

‘She’s great. She’s living in Chicago.’

‘Is that where you went? After…’

‘Yeah. I stayed there for two years. I didn’t like it. It wasn’t much different from Mississippi, in my opinion. Plus, it was too damned cold.’ He chuckles, looking at me. ‘How have you been?’

‘Okay, I guess…’

‘Just okay?’

‘I’ve missed you, everyday, since I left.’

He looks down. ‘Have you seen Wade?’

I nod. ‘I saw him on Broadway, one day a few years ago. He was with his wife, and his two kids.’

‘Did he say anything to you?’

‘No; he didn’t see me.’

‘You haven’t been happy?’

‘No, not really. I’m happy to see you, though.’ I pause. ‘You were right, you know.’

‘What about?’

‘About Wade. I never did love him…’

---

We’re rushing downtown to get to my apartment, but oddly, once we’re there, it seems as if time has stopped. We just stare at each other for a long time, standing in our coats, panting from the sprint up the stairs. He’s in shock, not even bothering to look around him at the humble décor of my living room. He hasn’t even taken his gloves off. 

I perform a sort of strip tease for him, taking a step away from him with each piece of clothing that I take off. By the time I’m completely naked, I’m in the bedroom, calling him to come to me, beckoning him to follow the trail of my discarded clothes. He obeys, stepping into the room, still in his outerwear, standing in the doorway, staring at my naked body.

I stand in front of him, slowly disrobing him myself, starting with his gloves, working my way down to his shorts, running my face up and down his hairy legs, making my way to his erect cock. He stands above me, only moving to stroke my long red hair, massaging my scalp, and stroking my hairline, until he runs his fingers along the scar at my temple.

‘It’s okay,’ I scratch my fingers along his scrotum. ‘I’m all right, John.’

I hold his cock in my hands for a moment, feeling it, inspecting it, remembering how it felt inside my mouth, hot and hard, jerking around, and how it felt in my pussy, tantalizing, filling. I’m intrigued all over again, by its blackness, and it’s girth, and I can feel my mouth watering, just looking at it. He’s chuckling now, looking down at my amazed face and playfully scratching my head. 

‘I guess you’ve missed this, too,’ he grins.

I slowly stroke his cock with my tongue, tasting the length of it, rolling a bit of his precum around in my mouth. I’m savoring his saltiness, bathing his penis with my wet and ready mouth, sliding my lips over it, preparing my throat to devour it. I take him by surprise; he moans when I take him down my throat, grabbing my hair, grunting slightly. I can feel his balls stirring, ready to fire his thick semen down my throat, but John is resistant; he’s trying to hold off, but I won’t allow it. I move faster, stroking and squeezing with my hands at the same time that I’m licking and sucking. He hisses as I suck harder, and I can tell that I have him now, because his precum is flowing nonstop. 

‘Oh, God, Ingrid… what do you do to me?’ he breathes, pulling my hair as he explodes in my mouth. 

I drink him in, slowly cleaning his cock, making him moan as I lick him again. He pushes me away, desperately trying to catch his breath. I watch him as he collapses onto the bed.

‘Are you married?’ l ask, licking my lips as I admire his athletic physique.

‘No.’

‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ I crawl over him, straddling his legs.

‘No.’

‘Are you dating anyone?’

‘No.’ He grabs me by the hips, pulling me up to his face. 

Taking my cue, I position myself over his mouth, gripping the headboard, holding my breath in anticipation of the most magnificent ride of my life. He just breathes at first, gently blowing on my lips, tickling me with little rushes of air. My pussy lips are itching for his touch, and just as I’m about to smash it into his face, flicks his tongue at it, fluttering back and forth like butterfly wings. He starts a sawing motion with the narrow edge of his tongue, making me extra wet, and causing my hips to sway forward and backward, mimicking his movements. When we build a steady rhythm together, he flattens his tongue, grinding it into my clit on an up stroke, and poking it inside my pussy on the down stroke. This drives me wild, and I’m soon bucking my hips and holding the headboard for dear life, because my heart feels as if it’s about to stop. 

It’s when he starts sucking on my clit that my heart turns flips. My back arches sharply, and my body thrashes around so much that he has to hold me by the hips. After a minute or two of this, I’m crawling away from him, begging him to stop, because the feeling is too intense.

I’ve collapsed across the bed, this time. He’s fully recovered now, stroking his hands up and down my body, holding my breasts in his palms, teasing my nipples. He sucks my nipples hard and fast, sending shock waves down my stomach, straight to my energized clit. He nibbles my skin, lightly pulling with his teeth, leaving little red teeth marks all over my body, running up my arms, across my stomach, and along my neck and collarbone. All I can do at this point is to stroke his back. He stops for a while, smiling at me, running a finger along my jaw line, kissing my mouth every few seconds.

‘You’re still just as gorgeous as you were when I last saw you,’ he breathes.

I slowly climb into his lap, straddling him, and whisper into his ear, ‘I need your cock inside me, John. I’ve been aching for you…’

He watches me as I slide down onto his black pole, smiling at me as I whimper a little from the glorious stuffed sensation I’m feeling. 

We watch each other, sitting face to face, kissing and grinding slowly, his hips moving up to mine, and mine moving down to his. He rocks me to a plateau of delight, moving his stiff cock in and out, and sucking my swollen nipples. I’m holding his head, smothering him with my breasts, bouncing faster to match his rhythm. I feel him slide a finger into my ass, causing me to rock my hips more fervently. My pussy seems to be dripping more than ever before, soaking his lap, and dripping down to my ass, easing his finger in.

I’m climbing; my body has taken over, moving for me, my brain only working to continue the feeling. I’m panting, now, from the effort, but I can’t stop rocking, I can’t stop grinding into John’s wonderful cock, his thick finger pressing into the wall of my ass. I’m whimpering again, louder, this time, and before I know it, I’m screaming and shuddering, my body performing a slow motion bounce for him, bouncing on his cock like the horses on a carousel, moving up and down to the rhythm of the motor. 




Southern Hospitality Ch. 03



John lays me across the bed, not letting me rest this time, mounting me quickly, sinking deep into me, driving his pelvis into mine, grunting and moaning in time to my senseless whimpers. I’m digging my nails into his back, hard, but he doesn’t seem to feel it. I seem to have lost my mind; I’m babbling again, wanting nothing more than to feel his cock go deeper inside.

‘Oh, John, fuck me! Ohhh, yeah… fill me up! Make me cum again… I want you to cum inside me… please… Ahhhh…Deeper, yeah, right there… Ohhh…’

He cums with a yelp, squeezing me so tightly that I can barely breathe. His cum is already running out of my pussy, dripping down my thigh. I grab his ass each time he spasms, to hold him as close as possible, because I don’t want him to get away. I’m crying again, sobbing as he spurts into me, breathing into his ear.

‘I love you so much…’

---

I still can’t believe that he’s here with me. I can’t help staring at him as he sleeps, the moonlight pouring over his body, turning his skin an odd tint of blue in the darkness. I almost feel silly, standing over the bed, watching John sleep, his long, muscular limbs sprawled across my bed, making it look smaller than it actually is. 

I stand daydreaming so long that I almost fail to notice the sound of the key in the lock of my apartment door. Pulling my robe tight, I close the bedroom door, tiptoeing into the living room, looking around for a handy weapon. I find a hammer lying on a nearby table. I’m holding it behind me as the door swings open, and I almost drop it when Marty switches on the light.

‘Hey! What’s shakin’, Red?’

‘Marty?’ I’m confused.

He’s already taking his clothes off, moving toward me.

‘I see you’re ready for me,’ he leers at me, eyeing my partially open robe. ‘Good girl.’

It’s Friday night. I’ve forgotten all about Marty.

‘Marty, I don’t think…’

‘I brought you something,’ he smiles at me, showing me a bottle of wine.

‘Marty, this isn’t a good time…’

‘What do you mean? This is our time. I reserved it for you, you reserved it for me, every week.’

‘I’m sorry… It’s just that…’

‘Ingrid?’ John’s standing in the bedroom doorway with a confused look on his face.

‘What the fuck?’ Marty’s jaw drops. ‘Who the hell is this cat?’

‘This is John. John…Marty.’

‘Who the hell is “John”?’ Marty’s incensed.

‘I’m an old friend,’ John explains.

‘Old friend, my ass,’ Marty chirps. ‘I don’t have any old friends that like to walk around wearing my bed sheets…’

‘Marty…’ I try to explain.

‘Well,’ he turns away, putting his sweater and coat back on, ‘I guess I’m the third wheel, here. Catch you later, doll…’

---

‘Marty, you don’t understand. I love him,’ I’m trying to keep up with him, following him down the hall to his classroom.

‘Miss Logan, have you lost your mind?’ he hisses at me as he closes and locks his door.

‘Yes, I think I have…’

‘You love him, already? And you just met him? …Brother must have a real big dick…’

‘Marty, don’t be crude… I’ve know him for years, I just found him again after a long time… too long.’

I tell him the whole story, about how John and I met, and how we lost each other.

‘Well, Red, I’m happy for you… I knew this thing had to come to an end one day… I’ve been having too much fun.’ He kisses my forehead. ‘…Guess I’ll have to go back to the old ball and chain.’ 

‘Can I have one last time with you, one for the road?’ I ask, coyly.

‘The janitors are doing our floor first today…’

‘No, I mean at my place.’

‘And have Paul Bunyan put his foot up my ass?’

‘Marty…’

‘Oh, sorry. Paul Bunyan was white. I guess John Henry would be more appropriate…’

‘Marty.’

‘All right, all right. I’m not foolish enough to turn good pussy down. Even if he’s sitting there watching over me. Just don’t complain if I have a few performance issues.’

‘Marty,’ I kiss his mouth, ‘Shut up.’

I set the date for the following Friday. I’ve cooked dinner and lit candles, and put on one of Marty’s favorite jazz records, for atmosphere. He’s running a little late, but I know he’ll turn up; he wouldn’t miss one of our trysts for anything.

When I hear the key turning in the lock, I rush to greet him at the door with a glass of wine. He greets me with a kiss, and I take his coat, handing him the wineglass. He almost chokes on the first sip when he sees John sitting on the sofa.

‘Logan…’ he darts his head toward the kitchen. I follow him, to find him standing in front of the sink, fuming. ‘What’s he doing here?’

I can’t help smiling.

‘Logan, wipe that stupid grin off your face and answer my question.’

‘I invited him, too.’

‘I don’t know what’s going through your crazy mind, but I am not having sex with you in front of that fool…’

‘Marty, there’s no need for you to be insulting. He knows everything, and he doesn’t care.’

‘What red blooded man wouldn’t be mad at the prospect of sharing his woman?’

‘He loves me. And he’s willing to do anything to make me happy.’

‘And what’s that? Watching me fuck you?’

‘If I want.’

He gives me a suspicious look.

‘You’re a kinky bitch, aren’t you? I knew there was something about you.’

‘Will you, Marty?’

‘Hey,’ he concedes. ‘All right. I’ll go with the flow…but I’m not making any promises…’

I jump into his arms, kissing him hard on the lips. He carries me out of the kitchen this way, walking me toward the bedroom.

‘What about dinner?’ I ask.

‘We can eat later.’ He adds, under his breath, ‘I don’t want to be loaded down with a full stomach, you know. I want to be in top form…’

He’s lying on top of me, reaching up my dress to remove my panties, and fishing around for his belt buckle.

‘Marty, what are you doing? You are not going to fuck me with your clothes on…’

He huffs, standing up. John is standing near the foot of the bed, taking his clothes off.

‘What’s he doing?’

‘What does it look like?’ I’m trying not to giggle.

‘Shit, girl, you really are freaky.’

‘Come here, Marty,’ I pull him toward me, pulling his pants down for him, and unbuttoning his shirt. He’s calm enough to allow me to pull out his cock, but after a minute of stroking him, I can tell that I’ve lost his attention.

He’s staring at John, who’s naked now, kneeling above my head. I sit up, to block Marty’s view of John.

‘Damn,’ his eyes widen, staring at John’s ample package. ‘He’s got enough to feed the needy,’ he mutters. 

‘You’re not so bad, yourself,’ I wink at him, taking his length into my mouth. 

As I’m feeding Marty’s long, thin cock into my mouth, John is lapping my pussy, making it difficult for me to concentrate. After the second time that I almost accidentally bite him, Marty speaks up.

‘Hey, now, slow down a little back there.’

‘Sorry,’ John stops licking long enough to say this.

We continue our efforts, with John licking me slowly and sensuously, causing me to swing my ass back and forth. I can feel Marty’s cock jump as I sway, knowing that he’d love to be back there now, ramming his cock into me.

After I’ve helped Marty to get all wet and hard, I turn to John, shaking my ass in front of Marty, teasing him cruelly. I lick and lap John’s cock; he’s already hard, and it doesn’t take long for his precum to start leaking out. 

I straddle John, pushing him down to the bed as I climb over him, arching my back as I sink myself down onto his thick cock. I turn impishly to Marty, who’s behind me, and beckon him to come closer.

‘I want you in my ass, Marty. Right now.’

Marty’s eyes perk up, and he crawls across the bed, lying on top of me, pressing his weight into my back as he circles his cock head around my ass hole. He pushes in with a long thrust, making me squeal, moaning a little at the new feeling of John’s cock on the other side of the wall from his.

I slowly move myself up and down John’s cock, starting us all off. Soon, John and Marty set up their own rhythm, one in, and the other out, over and over. The pressure is unbelievable; I can’t even keep my eyes from rolling back into my head. I’m whimpering into John’s neck, cooing and sighing as they keep up their tantalizing motions. After only a short time, I’m swept away by a deep orgasm, making my toes curl and my hair stand on end. 

After a few more mind splitting climaxes, I’m on the verge of passing out. Marty, unable to resist the tightness of my ass, cums first, pulling his cock out to cum on my back. John cums inside my pussy, pushing deep, and gripping me tightly, biting my shoulder as he gasps. We lay together, trying not to doze off, with John in front of me, his arms wrapped around my waist, and Marty behind me, his hands softly stroking my thighs.

‘I guess I’ll have to go back to chasing my wife around the bedroom…’ Marty says.

‘You could probably make a go of it with Miss Jackson.’

‘You think I have a shot with her?’ Marty asks. 

‘Yeah. I think she likes you.’

‘She might like me, but I don’t think she’ll be as much fun as you were,’ he sighs.

‘What do you mean?’ I look back at Marty, stroking John’s head while he rests it on my chest.

‘She looks like a church lady, you know, like my wife. I don’t think she’d ever let me get up her ass…’

Marty sounds so serious, that he sounds funny. John tries to stifle a laugh, while I rest my head underneath Marty’s chin.

‘Don’t worry, Marty, I’m sure you’ll find somebody. Your wife might even come around some day.’

‘I doubt it. I doubt that seriously…’ he shakes his head emphatically.

‘Maybe you could introduce her to Miss Jackson.’

‘What? That’s a crazy idea… just ludicrous… maybe… I don’t know. I’ll think about it…’ he ruminates as I drift off to sleep.



Southern Hospitality Ch. 1



It was mid-afternoon, and like all proper young ladies, Kira was taking a nap. She was dressed in a long silk gown, and lying on elegant satin sheets, with her head resting on velvet pillows. A thin white veil fell from the posts of her canopy bed. Paintings of woodland cottages, mythical creatures, and a few portraits lined the walls. Images of ancient Greek gods and goddesses were etched on two expensive stained-glass windows. The hot Georgia sunlight passing through them cast a soft pastel glow on beautiful body of the young heiress.

At only eighteen, she had the slim-but-curvaceous body of a Parisian model. Her face was pale, with just a hint of pink in her cheeks. Sparkling sapphire eyes were hidden behind long, curled lashes. Her lips, the colour of Merlot (her favorite red wine) were drawn into a sensuous pout. Silky jet black hair flowed like an ebony river over her narrow shoulders, down her back, stopping just below her tiny waist. Her firm round breasts - measuring an amazing 34DD - slowly raised & lowered with every breath. Her lower ribs were curved inward toward her smooth, flat stomach. Her waist measured 21 inches without a corset, and 15 when fully corseted. Someday, she hoped to fit in a 12 inch corset. That, to her, would make her truly perfect.

Her hips measured 32 inches. 'Too small for bearing sons' her aunt always said. (Not that she'd ever planned to do so, although it was almost a necessity for all women of substance to be married by age eighteen, and to bear at least one son by age twenty.) Her backside curved into a softly-rounded heart shape. Her long, slender legs and small, delicate feet were the finishing touches on a body so magnificently beautiful, that several local painters and sculptors had made her the subject of their greatest works.

The house in which Kira lived was the last surviving fragment of a once immense plantation called Resolut. It was built in the mid 1600's by Baron Jon-Pierre DuSillette as a gift to his new American wife, Marie Anngeline Sutter. Behind white marble walls and iron gates were a great house, a church, kitchen, three tobacco barns, family cemetery, above-average slave's houses, vineyards, a garden / labyrinth, and 150 acres of land. Some 200 years later, after the civil war, all that remained of the DuSillette home was the great house. Though only a dim shadow of its former magnitude, 'Resolut II' was still a thing of unsurpassed beauty; much like it's sole resident... Mademoiselle Kiranne Jacqueline DuSillette.

On quiet afternoons like this, Kira often slept for several hours. What more was there to do? She'd hired servants and maids to come in twice a week to clean the house. She had no need to work, for she was, after all, a DuSillette. And the money her father left to her in his will would guarantee that she'd never work a day in her life. As for food, she didn't eat much anyway. When she did, it was mostly fruits & vegetables, and she could get those in the garden. She had no phone, no TV, no car; no 'modern conveniences,' not even electricity. Her closest neighbors - her aunt & cousins - were ten miles away. In every respect, she was completely alone. And thus, in every respect, she was the perfect victim...

Kira's slumber was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. As she opened her eyes and started to sit up, she felt something - maybe a rope - being wrapped around her neck. 'Not a sound, or I promise you'll regret it. Understand?' a young man's voice whispered as he tightened the rope. Kira nodded. She recognized his voice as having a strong Yankee accent. 'Now, let's get you out of that silk nightie, so I can see that sweet body of yours.' He brought out a knife, holding it up in Kira's view, and felt her body tense with fear as he brought it down toward her neck. Just before it touched her soft milky flesh, he turned it slightly and cut one of the shoulder straps on her gown, then he switched hands, and repeated his actions, cutting the other strap. Only this time, he accidentally scraped Kira's skin, resulting in a trickle of blood which slowly dripped down Kira's chest, in between her breasts, and down her stomach. The attacker turned her around to face him, slowly licked up the blood, then kissed her, making Kira taste her own blood. 'Ahhhhhhh, so sweet...' he moaned.

He dropped the rope and started groping her body. His hands roughly caressed her soft curves, squeezing and pinching her nipples, then moving down between her legs, pushing them apart, and sliding his finger into her tight virgin pussy. 'Well, this is certainly a surprise. Mmmmmmm... Hahaha. Uncharted territory,' he laughed. He slid another finger inside of her, and then another. Kira's body trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. But she didn't cry out. In fact, she spread her legs wider to allow him easier access. This seemed to surprise him even more than discovering that she was a virgin. He took his fingers out of her pussy, and ordered her to lick them clean. Then he made her lie down, and tied her hands to the bed posts. After which, he took off his clothes and knelt over Kira's face. Obediently, her lips parted, and took his huge cock into her mouth. He rammed deeper and deeper; his victim straining & gagging as he forced her to deep-throat. But after a few minutes, she actually became accustomed to it, and even seemed to enjoy it.

Her assailant backed off, unable to believe that his 'victim' was submitting to him so willingly. After contemplating this for a second, he lay down on top of her and slowly pushed his way into her tight young pussy. Her moans of pain were quickly replaced by moans of pleasure as her innocence was taken in a series of violent thrusts. In a few short moments, she felt his cum filling her, with a few drops spilling onto the sheets. Again, her Northern attacker was bewildered by Kira's actions. She had enjoyed being raped. He even started to wonder why he'd waited so long to do this.

He had been riding past her house every day for several months. Sometimes, she would be on the porch, drinking a glass of wine. Other times, she'd be in the garden, picking strawberries. Once in a while, he'd climb the gate and sneak up to the parlor window. He'd watch for as long as he could without fear of being caught. When he was feeling especially brave, he'd wait until she took her nap, and climb up her balcony to watch her sleeping. Once, he even mustered enough courage to enter the room, and sit by her bed. But as he leaned in to kiss her, she stirred, and he made a hasty retreat. He had then decided that he had to have her; no matter what it took. He assumed that a lady of such prosperity and class would not willingly give herself to him. So, he'd have to take what he wanted by force. And that's just what he had done. But... now that he had her.... well, now what?

He'd always fantasized about dominating a woman, and turning her into his oh-so-willing slave. 'Well, I'll be damned if this isn't the perfect opportunity!' he thought to himself. He then began picturing how she'd look, kneeling naked at his feet, wearing a leather collar, with an ID tag marking her as his property. Nah, an ID tag was too easy. Maybe a tattoo.... or a brand. Yes, a brand; a little heart branded on her left inner thigh, just inches from her sweet cunt. Then, much to his surprise, his thoughts shifted from how beautiful she'd look on her knees before him, to how much pain she'd be in when being branded. He imagined the iron being heated until it was glowing bright red, then slowly pressing it into her tender flesh, hearing her agonized screams as the nerves were scorched and her soft skin seared by the burning metal. Mmmm.... she would truly suffer then. So much pain... Such a... delicious thought!

At first, he was horrified at such thoughts. Then as he stared at Kira's nude body, a wicked smile crossed his face. That sweet neck. Those tiny wrists. Those perfect ankles. Just begging to be chained. Kira's back arched as he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back to kiss her. He ran his hands down her back and imagined how it would look and feel when covered with welts & bruises. He then realized that he didn't have to imagine that part. He reached for his belt, and made Kira turn over. He brought the belt down on her upturned ass, resulting in a long red welt forming a painfully beautiful contrast the ivory flesh, followed by a blood-chilling scream from his young victim. The first lash was followed by nine more.... Each more cruel than the previous ones.

Then the sadistic man stopped, but only long enough to pick up Kira's riding crop from a nearby table. He proceeded to stripe her from shoulders to ankles, then he turned her around, and did the same thing on the other side. When he was done, several marks had trickles of blood, while others formed dark bruises. He lit a candle and waited a few moments for some of the melted wax to accumulate. He poured the hot wax on Kira's breasts, and her stomach, then forced her legs apart and poured some on her pussy lips, and then continued down her legs. Kira's screams were music to his ears. He even encouraged her to scream louder. 'Yes, you little slut, scream. Show me how much you're suffering. Consider this a small sample of the pain you will endure in your life as my slave! No, I won't stop. I'm enjoying this far too much for that. I've waited a long time to have you like this. Now that you're mine, I will make you pay for every day I wasted pining for you...'

As Kira's cries diminished, her new 'Master' began thinking up new ways to torture her. He was amazed that such cruel thoughts could come from him. He didn't know how or why he was suddenly so evil. All he knew was that he loved it! He had so many terribly painful ideas, he didn't know which to use first. But then, he could take his time with her. It wasn't like anyone would interrupt them. No... There was no rush. Just take it nice and slow. Besides, if he went to fast, it might take away from the pleasure of making her suffer. His sadistic thoughts were cut short by an unexpected sound. It sounded as if someone was knocking on the front door. It couldn't be. But just as he convinced himself it was impossible, he heard a door slam, and moments later, saw the bedroom door handle start to slowly turn. Then the door slowly opened and in stepped a young girl - about Kira's age, but not nearly as beautiful. But good enough, he thought. Well... things just keep getting better. Now he had two slaves to torture...

'Miss Kira, it's Angelique, the maid's daughter. I saw a truck parked...' The girl's voice trailed off as she stared at the man who had been leaning over Kira's tortured body, and was now walking slowly in her direction. 'What the hell? Who... Who are you? How did you get in? What are you doing here? What...' Her questions were met with a fierce slap across the face; so powerful that it knocked her to the floor. She started to stand, and received another slap, more painful than the first.

'Now, listen and listen good. I will not repeat myself. As of now, I ask all the questions. I give all the orders. I am in charge here. You, and your little friend belong to me! Now, since I failed to introduce myself to Kira, I'll do it now. My name is Seth. But you will call me Master. I must admit, I hadn't planned on having another little playtoy. But then, two slaves means two times the fun for me, and two times the pain for you girls!' Seth laughed wickedly at the horrified look on his new victim's face. 'Such fear... such absolute terror... It's wonderful. Yes, that's right. Go ahead and cry, little one. In a few moments, I'll really give you something to cry about. Since you're here, why don't you go say hi to Kira...'

Angelique walked over to the bed, and stared in disbelief at the sight of 'Miss Kira' lying there, bruised & beaten, trembling and still sobbing from the pain she'd just been through... but also smiling, which confused Angelique. She tensed as she felt Seth's cold, cruel hands on her shoulders. He reached around and started unbuttoning her shirt. She started to resist, and soon felt the cold metal of his switchblade knife against her neck. Seth continued stripping Angelique, slowly revealing her cute little body. Once he finished, he turned her around a few times, so he could see every inch of his newly acquired property. Her breasts were not nearly as big as Kira's. Seth guessed she was maybe a 34B. Her stomach wasn't perfectly flat, but he'd take care of that. Her ass was not as firm, nor were her legs as long & slender as Kira's. But then, he thought, Kira is indeed a rare find. An old-fashioned Southern lady in the midst of 20th century America... Definitely a diamond in the rough.

He would learn that Angelique was not simply less physically appealing than Kira. She was also less willing to be used for her new Master's pleasure. His first hint that this French filly would take a much firmer hand was when he ordered her to 'Suck my dick, slut!' At first, she obeyed. But just as Seth began to enjoy it, Angelique bit down - hard, causing Seth to jump back, screaming in pain. 'You little bitch! You're gonna pay for that!' His voice softened momentarily; just long enough to tell Kira to get something to tie Angelique's hands & feet with. Then he turned back to his rebellious little captive. 'I'm gonna enjoy making you scream!' he said as he pointed the knife at her throat. Once more, his attention turned to Kira, who was working on binding Angelique's hands & feet, as her Master had commanded. 'Good girl, Kira. That's right. Nice & tight. All right now baby, I want you to leave the room. This isn't gonna be for the eyes of a sweet little lady like you. I'll call you when I'm done. That's my good girl.' With that, Kira left the room, leaving Angelique at the mercy of her sadistic Master.

Angelique's body trembled as Seth stood over her, shaking his head in disgust. 'If you'd only been more cooperative, this wouldn't have to happen. Kira obeyed me, and you see how nice I am to her. Oh well... Guess you'll have to learn the hard way. Shall we get started?' He grabbed a handful of her long blonde hair, and dragged her to the bed. He then picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. He took out his knife again and lightly traced Angelique's curves with it. 'Hmmm.... where shall I start? With those tiny tits?' he said, pressing down a little harder... Just hard enough to hurt, without breaking the skin. 'No, I don't think so. Shall I begin with this not-so-flat tummy? Maybe that'll slim it down a bit,' and again, he pressed the knife into her skin.

He heard her whisper something about not hurting her, and he couldn't help but laugh. 'Don't hurt you? Don't hurt you? Ha! I'm not gonna hurt you. Oh, no, not at all. I'm gonna abuse you! I'm gonna cause you pain in ways you could never imagine. I'm gonna start with that chubby little face of yours {here he nicks her cheeks with the knife} and end with these tiny little French feet {here he scrapes the knife against the bottom of her feet}. I sent my little princess out of here because I didn't want to scare her... Didn't want her thinking I'd ever do these kinds of things to her. I'd never hurt my good little girl. But I would.... and I will hurt you!' Seth growled.

Angelique started crying, which seemed to cause Seth to become more eager to make her suffer. He untied her feet, and re-tied them to the bedposts, then did the same with her hands. He started by whipping her with the riding crop, giving her twice as many lashes as he had given Kira. He had ordered her to count each lash. But since she hadn't, he'd whipped her even more than he'd intended. Not that it mattered. He just hoped he hadn't hurt her too bad. 'Too much pain all at once, and one loses all sensation for the pain that follows... That wouldn't be much fun, now would it?'

Once he had her all striped up, he positioned himself behind her, and started to fuck her pussy. But after a moment's hesitation, he decided it would be much more painful if she were fucked in the ass. Sure enough, the minute he pressed against her tight little ass, she started screaming. The further he thrust inside of her, the louder her cries became. He paused to give her time to catch her breath, then started pounding her even harder. He came much too quickly, and pulled out after only a few minutes, with a look of disappointment on his face.

'Oh well... Let's continue,' he said as he untied her and flipped her over, then re-tied her again. He searched the drawers and found a handful of plastic clothespins, which Kira had used to hang her clothes up to dry. Seth placed one on each nipple, and four around the nipples, then moved down and placed three on each pussy lips. He also found a ball of string, which he threaded through the holes in the clothespins. Binding all of them together, then standing a couple feet away, Seth pulled the clothespins off in one painful yank. He'd never heard a woman scream as loud as Angelique did at that moment. Her cries were enough to make him hard again, and this time, he fucked her pussy. 'Hmmm... not a virgin, but still pretty tight. Are you enjoying this? No, of course not. But I am! Hahaha... And just think... we're just getting started. So much flesh, so many choices... What would cause the most pain? Well, we're not in any hurry. We've got plenty of time. And when we're done, we'll invite Kira in here to view the results...'

To Be Continued...



Southern Hospitality: The Beginning



Author's note: This is my first attempt at writing an incest/taboo story. I would appreciate feedback. Although it is told from the first-person narrative, and the title has "True" ("True" as in genuine, not as in fact) in it, it is complete fiction, and just the product of my kinky imagination. I do not directly mention the actual ages of the characters in my story, however, here is a break-down: Mrs. McKenna ("mama") is 40, Tad (the narrator) is 30, Bobby-George (Tad's love interest) is 23, Junior (the older brother) is 21, Tommy (the younger) is 19, and the twins (Sarah & Sammie) are 18. Thanks for reading! 

1

Where do I begin?

I have never told this story to anyone, and most people would call me a liar if I tried. You know the saying about how truth is stranger than fiction? Well, this little tale I am about to unfold takes the cake in fucking weirdness! I even thought about buying one of those mega-ba-jillion-dollar lottery tickets, because I was really running the long odds on this one.

My story starts about four days before Mardi Gras, in Portland, Oregon, when I got a wild-hair up my ass to hop in my car, and go to New Orleans. I had always wanted to go, and never had -hell, I never even been east of the Mississippi River! I wasted no time packing, and loaded up my little toaster-car for my long journey. Within an hour, I was on I-84, and heading east.

By the time I reached Arkansas, I realized that I did not plan my trip all that well. The freeway came to an end, in a city called Pine Bluff, and I ended up on state highways and county roads, as I passed through the rural farmlands. Although lost, I knew I was making progress.

It was on a county road, somewhere south of another no-name town, that I blew a radiator hose, and I was suddenly stuck out in the middle of bum-fuck, Arkansas. As I sat along the roadside, with no cell-signal and a bottle of pop, that song from Deliverance suddenly started playing in my head. It wasn't long, however, that an old pick-up rounded the bend, and saw me -stranded. The old, beat-up jalopy pulled in behind me, and I started to worry about what kind of hillbilly hell I was going to wind up in. But instead of some coverall-clad, toothless redneck with a shotgun, the driver was a gorgeous young woman! She had dishwater-blonde hair, and wearing a short, floral summer-dress that showed off her long, shapely legs. My eyes widened, as they drank in her stunning beauty, and graceful walk. 

"Looks like y'all 'er in a peck o' trouble." she stated, with her delightful southern drawl.

I paused to remember my manners, as I knew how southerners don't like familiarity from strangers, then answered, "I think I blew a radiator hose, miss. Is there a garage somewhere near?"

"We got everything you need to fix that little, ol' car back on the farm." she said, with a flirty twinkle in her eye. "Daddy's outa' town, but my brothers 'll fix 'er right up for ya." she concluded with a smile.

"Oh, thank you, miss," I blurted out, "I would be happy to pay them, of course!" then I remembered my manners, again. "Uh," I stumbled, "my name's Tad -Tad Webster."

"Of course, where are my manners?" she exclaimed, as she rolled her eyes. "I'm Roberta McKenna -but folks just call me Bobby-George, on account 'a my middle name's Georgina."

The next thing I knew, I was in her truck, and headed down a dirt road. The house, at the end of the the road, was rustic, bet very large. It was a two-story farmhouse, that looked like it hadn't been painted in fifty years. There were several other building on the property, what I guessed to be a small workshop, a huge barn, and a ramshackle garage. And just like out of a "...you might be a redneck" joke, there were quite a few cars and trucks, in various states of disrepair, littered about the numerous fruit and nut trees in the front yard. I immediately felt a little guilty for entertaining these stereotypes. After all, the pretty, young lady was offering her help out of the kindness of her heart -or, so, I thought.

We walked in the house, and were spotted by a tall boy (who looked to be in his late-teens, or early twenties), that promptly heralded our arrival, "Ma, Bobby-George brought comp'ny!" he bellowed, at his unseen mother. This was followed by the thunder, of several pairs of feet, scurrying to the living room. The whole fam-damnly -sans the father, of course- piled in to see who "comp'ny" was, but the mother remained in the kitchen.

The was another tall boy that looked a little younger than the other, and twin girls -that were also teenagers.. The boys were similar, in appearance, as the both were a little over six-feet in height, lean, and muscular, with light-brown hair. The twin girls were petite in frame, with big, green eyes, and wavy locks of golden-blond tresses that fell down below their shoulders. They were the cutest little book-ends, and both had a very bubbly demeanor, as they just stood their with coquettish smiles -swaying nervously, to-and-fro. 

"Well, who in tar-nartion is it?" an irritated, matronly voice asked.

"Stranger, ma, looks like a city-boy!" the young man called back.

"Well, hell, Junior, offer the man some ice tea!"

We all sat at the dinner-table: Me, Bobby-George, Mrs. McKenna (her name was Roberta May, but I was all about minding my manners around this southern family), Jimmy-Junior (the older boy), Tommy (the younger one), and the twins (Sammie and Sarah).

"Ma," Junior began, "took a look at that-there radiator-hose, an' he's gonna need a new one."

"Well, son," his mother replied, "yer' jus' gonna hafta go inta town tommorah' mornin', an' pick another up." Roberta-May finished, and then turned to me, "An', you, are jus' gonna hafta stay the night here."

"I'll make up a room for him, mama!" Sammie volunteered, eagerly. 

"Me, too!" Sarah chimed in.

"That's fine girls," she confirmed, "jus' you finish yer supper first."

"Thank you, Mrs. McKenna," I graciously said, "I hate to impose, and you all have been far too hospitable, already, but I don't see how I got much of a choice."

"Oh, now, son," the matronly woman responded, in a playfully admonishing tone, "you jus' stop with all that 'Mrs. Mckenna' nonsense. While yer a guest in my home, you call me mama -ya here?"

I smiled, slightly embarrassed by her offer, but just replied:

"Well, thank you, mama."

She was in her forties, but much like her daughter, she was quite stunning. Roberta-May had long, chestnut hair she kept in a neat bun at the back her head, and steel-blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with life, and vigor. And I was surprised, after having five children, that she had such a trim frame, yet she had all the proper curves. Her breasts were large, and she showed them off with her low-cut sun-dress, and her hips were round, and full. To be honest, even though she had to have -at least- fifteen years on me, I would have no problem with hopping into bed with her! However, at the moment, my interests were focused on her eldest daughter.

Bobby-George was tall (and judging from the height of her mother, compared to her and her brothers, the tall stature must have come from the father), and was a bit more petite, in build, than her mom. She was smaller in the chest, and a bit trimmer in the hips. For dinner, she had pulled her dark-blond hair back into a ponytail, and this only served to draw attention to her luminous, green eyes -they were captivating! She had a delicate, and refined, aire about her, yet one could tell that she was a hearty, young woman that could get down-and-dirty with the best of 'em.

After dinner, which was a delectable fare of fried-foods, we all 'retired to the parlor', as mama would say.

We all sat around, laughing and joking, over iced-tea, and short-bread cookies. It was, really, quite relaxed, family environment, and it kind of gave me a 'down-home' feeling. I was, very much, enjoying myself in this atmosphere. It was quite different from the stale, cold family I was used to. That was until Mrs. McKenna put me on the spot.

"I've seen the way y'all been lookin' at my Bobby-George," she said to me, skeptically, with an uncomfortable interrogative close at hand, "an' I was wond'rin': have y'all been thinkin' about what my little-girl looks like nekkid?"

My heart, suddenly, lodged in my throat, and I just sat there -speechless. I felt a cold sweat begin to bead on my forehead, as I -greatly- feared that I had offended this nice family with my wandering eye.

It was then, that the entire room erupted into a boisterous laughter. Although the sudden mirth let me know that I had not upset these kind people, it did little to alleviate the tension I felt.

"Ah, hell, son," she said, when her cackling had died-down enough for her to form words, "don't you worry 'bout one little thing. Mama's gonna make sure you are taken care of, tonight!"

2

"Bobby-George," Mrs. McKenna said to her daughter, after she realized that I could not seem to respond to her, "take off all yer' clothes, and show our guest from out west all about 'southern-hospitality'."

Without a word, the beautiful, southern girl -that I had been lusting after- rose from the love-seat next to me, and pulled the light, cotton summer-dress from over her head. 

Her body was taut, and tan, and I could see the tan-line -from a teeny, immodest bikini- wrapped around her waist -as she wore no panties. Her milky-white mound was clean-shaven, and I could also see the first signs of her sweet nectar glistening in lamp light.

My God, how I wanted her! Yet, I was so scared, and uncomfortable, with what was going on around me. After all, her mother just told her to strip -right in from of me! And worse yet, she did it without hesitation, or question.

What was going on, here?

My question was answered when she knelt down in front of me, and reached for my belt.

I admit, I jumped. I was no unnerved, but mama's soothing voice calmed me:

"It's okay, sugar," she purred at me, "let Bobby-George show you how friendly we can be."

I took her advice, and relaxed, as her daughter unbuckled my belt, and zipped-down my fly.

Nervous, or not, I was rock-hard, and as soon as I lifted my hips, so she could pull down my pants, my rigid cock popped out -throbbing, and willing.

"Mmm..." Bobby-George purred, as she took my pulsating shaft in her hand, "you see this mama? Looks like this city-boy likes me!"

"Sure as hell-fire, he does, baby-girl," Mrs. McKenna replied, as her right-hand lifted the hem of her dress, and made its way to her loins, "so why don't y'all jus' treat his dinger to yer sweet mouth?"

Bobby-George responded with her actions. 

The warm, wet feeling of her hungry maw engulfed my swollen prick, as she began to suck, and flick her tongue along the under-side of my manhood. Her dark-blonde hair brushed my hips as the young, southern vixen expertly worked my tool. 

"Ah, mama," a dulcet little voice chimed, and interrupted my my reverie, "are we just gonna watch, or do we getta play, too?"

"Of course, my sweet," momma answered, "you jus' play with yer sister."

Mrs. McKenna's words sent me reeling. This whole scene was twisted, taboo, yet it was really turning me on! It was so wrong, on so many different levels, yet I wanted to revel in these perverse acts.

I looked over to see what was happening, and sure enough, the sweet, little book-ends were helping each other undress. Bobby-George sucked and slurped, as I watched the two young gilrs peel their modest clothing from each other. Their bodies were supple, creamy, and taut. They touched each other ever-so gently, as soft cotton fell to the floor, and exposed almost-womanly frames. Each had a downy thatch of golden hair growing in sparse wisps from their little mounds. I couldn't keep myself from staring, as the two began to grope each others nubile, young bodies, and couldn't help but wonder if I would get a chance with them!

Lech!

Pervert!

I never even entertained the idea of doing such things, but now it consumed my mind!

Not wanting to seem like too much of a freak, my eyes scanned the room. By this time, mamma's panties were on the floor, and the hem of her dress was up to her waist. She had splayed her long, slender legs over the arms of the chair, while her fingers explored her moistening snatch.

Her sons must have had the same idea, as their pants were down at their ankles, and stiff pricks in their relative hands. They stroked as the watch their elder sister work my burgeoning pole, and then their eyes would shift to the younger sisters.

My eyes returned to the twins:

Sammie and Sarah were really getting into it. They had since stopped watching Bobby-George and me, and were focusing on each other. One of them -I could not tell which- was licking and nibbling the her sister's neck, as one hand pinched her nipple, and the other rubbed at her creamy slit. The other twin's back arched, as she moaned and writhed under the lustful actions of her sister. In this moment, I did not care if the others caught me gaping at their salacious scene.

"Now, Bobby-George," mamma interjected, in mock admonishment, "don't think y'all can have our guest all to yourself. Share with your sisters."

Mama must have seen my prurient stare.

But, alas, here I was: about to take part in such debauchery that it would make a Roman Emperor blush like a school-girl!

School-girl?

I had to get that image out of my head as those sweet, little book-ends moved on me with with a predatory grace.

Yes, I said, predatory...

The look in their eyes was most definite. They meant to have their way with me, and I felt as if there was nothing I could do to stop them. Their little gashes glistened with their pussy-juice, as they sauntered over to me, in a sexy, seductive manner. And, honestly, I could not wait for them to descend upon me.

No, no, no...

This was just wrong!

How can I be doing this? I felt like a total perv!

"Boys?" Mrs. Mckenna called to her sons, "Y'all come over here, and keep yer mama comp'ny, ya hear?"

Mama had interrupted my self-scolding inner-monologue, but she now had my attention, as Bobby-George moved off of me, and the twins knelt in front of the couch where I sat.

The boys stood, and removed the remainder of their clothing, while their mother did the same in preparation for their "comp'ny". Their cocks were rock-hard, and jutting out from their crotches. The older of the brothers was pretty good-sized, but the younger one was packing a monster! He was hung like a porn-star! That damn thing had to be, at least, nine inches in length, and was almost as thick as his younger sisters' wrist! I could not help but stare.

Mama sat back down in the chair as her boys made it to her. She immediately took her boys' throbbing members in her hands, and began to stroke them gently, as if savoring the moment.

"Mmmm, yeah mama," the older one purred, "now, stop yer teasin', and suck on it, would ya?"

"Patience boy," she shot back, in admonishment, "Mama will get to that!"

She fulfilled her oath, as she started to flick her tongue over the pair of rigid dicks, which twitched with each pass of her oral appendage. Soon, she had taken the larger of the two in her mouth. She had to open-up pretty wide to get her son's colossal fuck-knob in her maw. She quickly moved to her other son's anxious rod, where she sucked and stroked it with a craven hunger. The boys moaned loudly as she went back-and-forth between to pair of young pricks.

3

I could feel Sammie and Sarah begin to kiss my inner thighs, and felt their little tongues tease my ball-sack. My cock jumped with every touch. As the little book-ends started to stroke my pulsating meat, Bobby-George settled in beside me on the loveseat, opened her legs, and began to run a slender finger up-and-down her wet snatch.

She moaned as she watched her sisters work my burgeoning pole, and swap it from one maw to the next. Their oral explorations were wet, warm, and their little mouths felt smooth as silk. I was pure bliss! Then one of them (I think it was Sammie) handed my cock over to her twin, and made he way up to my face -where she began to kiss me, deeply.

The tongue that was just on my swollen member clashed with mine, as we groped each other. Her skin felt more luxurious than satin, and was flushed with lustful heat. She moved down my neck, nibbling and suckling my inflamed skin, and then she whispered in my ear:

"Please mister," she begged in my ear in a soft, breathy tone, "will you please lick my thingy?"

I responded by grabbing her by the waist, and lifting her sopping, little honey-pot toward my face. I could not wait to taste her, as the musky-sweetness of her sex moved closer to my awaiting mouth. Little Sammie cooperated quite readily with me, as she stood, and put her long, slender legs over my shoulders. Her dripping pussy was less than in inch from my mouth, as I gripped her firmly by her ass-cheeks, and started to lap at her pink petals.

It tasted better than I could have ever imagined, as she let out tiny yelps, at my vigorous and ravenous tongue. Her fingers laced into my hair, and I felt the young girl grab handfuls of it, as she gyrated against my face. It was then that I noticed that her sister had stopped sucking me off, and I could feel her reposition herself to take my throbbing tool into her eager, wet hole.

I could feel Sarah straddle my pelvis, and felt her hand take hold of my pulsating manhood, as the sodden lips of her tiny gash brushed the tip. I shuddered at this, and wanted to grab her by the hips and push her down on my cock But, I was supporting Sammie's by the fleshy globes of her ass, and could not -besides, if this girl was going to be as tight as I thought, I did not want to hurt her.

Sarah's lips parted to my tumescent crown, and felt it begin to slip into her slick fuck-tunnel.

Jesus! I was tight! Yet, it was so slick from her sweet cream that my cock began to inch in to her more-than-taut passage. I heard her gasp with each gentle thrust downward, as it went deeper, and deeper inside her ayoung cunt. And as she took the entirety of my length inside her, her twin sister started to convulse, and buck her hips against my head.

Sarah began to grind against me, as Sammie's little cunny gushed in my face.

"Oh, mister, yes," she cried, "y'er makin' me cum so good!"

She continued to bellow and bray her lust, as her climax wracked her body. She leaned away from me, still holding my hair, and arched her back.

"Oooooo!" she called, "Aw, fuck, yes! I'm cuuuummmminnnngggg!"

I could feel her musky juices dribbling down my chin, and on to my chest, as her body shuddered against me. But, this did not slow me down. I was a man on fire, as I continued to suck on her quivering snatch, and not let her climax abate.

Alas, it did abate, as she let go of my hair, and collapsed on to her older sister -panting, and giggling at her own ecstasy.

"Umph!" Bobby-George exclaimed, as she felt the dead-weight of her younger sister land atop her. "What the hell, Sammie! I was git'in close!"

"Sorry, sissy," the young twin replied, in between labored breathes, "maybe I could help y'all out?"

The elder sister only purred at the offer, and removed her hand to give her sister access to her wet loins.

Bobby-George threw her head back, and moaned softly, as Sammie went down between her legs, and started to lick. She squirmed as the young girl went to work on her, and she watched the other twin ride my throbbing prick.

My hands now free, I explored Sarah's tight, youthful body. Her pussy gripped my cock like a vice, as she slid up and down on it, and rubbed her swollen love-button against my groin. Both her, and her older sister's, moans became louder, and were quickly turning into unabashed cries as they neared climax. And, it seemed as if the came in unison -one bookend riding me, and Bobby-George having her pussy lick by the other bookend.




Southern Hospitality: The Beginning



I could feel the young girl's pussy spasm, as she got louder. It practically strangled my dick when she did. There was one after the other clamping down on me, as she called out her lust:

"Uh-huh, uh-huh, UH-HUH!" she said as her head nodded in acceptance of her orgasm. "That's it, mister, fuck my dirty, little pussy! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The older sister had a firm hold of the younger's hair with both hands as she called out, "Oh, fuck, yes! Eat it, you nasty little tramp; eat your big-sissy's pussy! Ah, fuck! I'm gonna cum so hard!"

She began to yelp like the call of a raptor honing in on its prey. The sharp screeches, accentuate the rapid, pleasureful waves the seized her womanly frame. 

After watching Bobby-George cum wildly, my eyes scanned the room to see what Junior, Tommy, and mama were up to...

Mrs. Mckenna was down on all fours, sucking voraciously at Junior's cock, while his brother slammed his huge fuck-rod into his mother's battered pussy. Her moans were muffled by her older son's tumescent shaft, as she bucked back against his ardent thrusts. 

I could not fathom what I was seeing! The two boys were running a choke-and-poke on their own mother, as if she was a trashy, slutty, barfly! This was so wrong, so perverted, but once again, I did not care. My junk was still hard, and in desperate need of more fucking. All I could do was think of ramming my throbbing prick deep inside Booby-George's sweet, tight snatch.

I noticed that it was dripping with her nectar, and her young sister's spit when Sammie raised her head up from Bobby's crotch. The little twin's face glistened with the same, as an electric smile lit up her face, and she stared directly in to my eyes. This unsettled me somewhat, as I knew that she wanted a turn on my dick, but not so much that I wouldn't give it to her. I was past that point, and judging by her twin sister's performance I really wanted to fuck her, too!

"I'm gonna make you cum, mister," little Sammie announced, as she moved along my side seductively, "and I wanna taste y'er sperm! I want it in my mouth!"

"Well, okay." I managed to stumble out, although it seemed more of a question than a confirmation.

"But, I wanna feel that dinger inside me, first!" she concluded, excitedly, as she turned and made her way onto the floor.

She got down on her hands and knees, and began to wave her taut, tiny ass at me.

"Please, mister," she pouted, enticingly, as she looked back toward me, "stick yer dinger in me. I want it SO bad!"

I could not help but indulge her!

4

Sammie's ass was lean, and as hard as a rock, yet with a feminine shape. 

I sidled-up behind her, took my "dinger" -as she put it- in my hand, and aimed it at her sopping slit. 

It was soaking wet, and her pussy-lips were engorged and splayed-open to my burgeoning pole, and ready for violation!

As I ran the tip over her sodden gash (moistening it) she moaned impatiently, as if she could not get it inside her fast enough. The little twin pushed back against it, trying to force me to slide it in, and I could tell that she was going to be just as tight as her sister. Her efforts were not in vain, as my cock-head began to open her young hole. And as I gingerly pushed farther into her, the only resistence I felt was the vice-like grip of her slick love-hole.

"Mmmm... yes... deeper!" she purred, as the length of my throbbing shaft explore the depths of her sex. "That's it, Mister Webster," she continued to coax me, "don't be a'scared, don't be gentle, I's can take it. Just fuck me!"

I took her at her word, and brutally shove the entirety of shaft as deep as it would go. She yelped in response, and I stoppped. I was afraid that I hurt her; I was afraid that she had over estimated her sexual-constitution. But, I was wrong!

"Ah, fuck-yeah, mister!" Sammie cried out, at my abrupt assault, "fuck it hard! I likes it that a'way!"

Being the polite guest, I complied with her wishes.

Gripping her small ass-cheeks, I started ramming my prick into her constricting pussy. My hips, I thought, might become bruised from her hard, little butt slamming against me. She bellowed her ecstasy, as my cock assailed her slippery tunnel, and my balls impacted her engorged clitty.

"Ah, fuck, yes!" I called out. "That's a tight, fucking pussy!"

I suddenly heard voices behind me -grunting and chirping in lust.

I looked over my shoulder, and saw Bobby and Sarah locked together. They were coupled, legs scissored, hands clasped, with their perfect, little mounds grinding. Their hips gyrated, as they ferociously rubbed their twats against one another. They moaned and cooed their wanton desire, and pushed the edges of carnal bliss.

As they rubbed gash-against-gash, they watched me hammered at their yound sister's taut, wet honey-hole. The intensity of their gaze both unnerved and excited me, as I endeavored to put on a show for them.I hammered Sammie's pussy, for all it was worth, and heard her prurient cries ring in my ears! I was merciless!

Then, I felt it!

I felt the spasmodic contractions of her twat-muscles grasp my thick cock, and it was pleasurefully painfull! I knew she was cumming -hard! Likewise, I could tell that I was not far from the same!

"Ah, shit, ah, fuck," she bellowed, "you make me cum so good, mister! Do it harder! HARDER! AH, FUCK, I'M A-CUUUUMMMMINNNN'!"

The little girl's body convulsed, and slammed ever harder into my groin, as a blinding orgasm overtook her. It was all I had to hold back, as I felt her constrictive fuck-muscles clamp down on me, and try to milk the jism from my balls. But, I had made a promise... She would taste my seed!

Her climax seemed to go on forever, but I could take no more. My nuts were twitching; my entire body ached from holding back release.

"Ah, shit, I'm gonna fuckin' cum!" I moaned as I pulled out of Sammie.

With the alacrity of a wild-cat, she spun around just as the first jet of hot jism launched from my pulsating member. I coated the side of her face and shoulder before she could wrap her mouth around it. She sucked with lustful abandon as the second jet of sticky cum filled her ravonous maw. She swallowed hard, but could not keep up. I just kept cumming, and saw my seed gush from around her lips. I ran down her chin, and spattered on the floor. I fell back on the face of the love-seat, gasping for breath, with my cock still rock-hard, thobbing, and dripping with our juices.

I, then, felt Bobby's free arm come down over my chest, and her hand begin to play with my slowly, deflating cock. The beautiful southern-girl stopped her action with Sarah, and focused her attention on me:

"Y'all should see if mama needs yer help," she suggested, "and send Junior over here. I need some cock!"

"But-" I began to protest, thinking that I was not gonna get to fuck her, but was cut short by her reassurance.

"Ah, don't worry sugar," she purred into my ear, "I'm just savin' you fer last!"

God! This was so fucking hot! I was so immensely turned on, and I felt my prick begin to spring back to life. It was gonna take much coaxing from mama to get me ready for another round.

When my legs stopped shaking from my orgasm, I got to my feet, and went over to the boys and Mrs. McKenna.

"Junior," I announced, as he pummeled his mother's face with his swollen fuck-pole, "your Bobby-George needs your help with something."

He wasted no time in thanking me, pulling his cock from his mother's mouth, and trotting across the room.

I knelt in front of mama, my half-erect prick hovering in her face.

"Now, y'all jus' let mama take care of you, ya hear?" she managed to say between moans.

I had no problem complying with her, as she took my semi-flacid manhood in her mouth, and began to expertly suck me off. The Mckenna family matriarch was so good at it! Her tongue flicked and teased as she moved to-and-fro over its length. And when it was hard and throbbing, she stopped, and gave Tommy, and I, new instructions:

"Git on yer back, Tommy," she ordered, and then told me, "once he's in me, git behind me, and fuck my ass!"

I watched, as I stroked my cock, while young Tommy laid on the floor, and his mother straddled his huge pole. Her large, womanly tits hung over him, as she took hold of his thick rod, and slid it deep inside her dripping hole.

"Ugh... Mmmm..." she purred, as she let her son's gigantic tool explore the depths of her sex, and when she took as much as she could, she turned to me, "Now, put it in my asshole, young man!"

Jesus! I had never done this before, but I was very eager to try. So, I settled in behind her, and aimed my purple fuck-knob ar her little, pink pucker-hole. I spit into her ass-crack, and slid my burgeoning cock over it, and then press against her sphincter.

She opened up quite easily for me, and I felt the tight grip of her back-door passage, as my prick slipped deeper and deeper inside. I have fucked chicks in the ass before, but not while her pussy was being fucked, so the feel of Tommy's colossal shaft pumping her twat was a bit weird to me.

5

While I was fucking mama's ass, and she moaned and called-out like a wonton whore, I glance over to see Junior fucking Bobby-George.

Her brother loomed over her, had hold of the back of her knees, and held them down up near her shoulders. Bobby's legs were, also, spead wide, as he pummeled her with the entire leng of his cock, and she moaned and wailed with abandon. 

Not far away from them were the book-ends. Sammie had taken over for her older sister. Their legs scissorer, one hands clasped in the center, they gyrated their soft, wet mounds together, as they whimpered and cooed their forbidden ecstasy..

Mama began to cry-out, loudly, as she began to cum. And when the first wave hit, her asshole clamped on my throbbing shaft like a vice -as I am sure it, likewise, did on her son's giant meat-pole. She bucked and twitched with every salacious rush of pleasure.

"Ah, shit," Tommy exclaimed, as his mother's orgasmic screams fill our ears, "I love fuckin' you, mama!"

"Such a good-boy, Tommy!" she managed to answer, "Mama likes the way you fuck her, too!"

"I'm gonna cum, mama!" the younger of the brothers announced, as Mrs. Mckenna's orgasm continued with no end in sight.

"That's okay, sugar," she confirmed, "you jus' fill up mama's pussy!"

Her body locked, released, and convulsed, as she rode the apex of her lust, and her son began to call out his climax. I felt him pump his gargantuan tool into his mother with ramdom, fitful thrusts, as he he filled her abused fuck-slot with his sticky cum. And even though their relative orgasms seemed to last an eternity, it was only scant seconds before they both went limp before me.

I pulled my rigid cock from Mrs. McKenna's asshole, and stood up, just as Tommy's huge rod popped out of mamma's quivering snatch. His milky seed poured out of her in such vast amounts that I thought that he could impregnate the entire state of Arkansas in one, sudden spurt. 

But none-the-less, I stared in lecherous fascination as his jism fountained down her slit, and began to cover his groin. And at this, I should have felt disgusted with myself, as I willingly participated in their incestuous perversions -but, I did not!

I felt alive, and so fucking horning that I knew I could fuck the good Mckenna family all night!

I wanted this!

I needed this!

When I turned to focus my attentions else-where in this melee of incest, I saw Junior pull his twitching member from Bobby-George, and launch his anxious load of jism all over his sister. It arced into the air, in jet afer jet, and his older sister did not even attempt to shield herself from the pruruient assault. The salty liquid spewing from her brother's manhood splashed on her tummy, tits, and face -yet she did not seem to care. But the truth was quite the contrary, she seemed to revel in it!

But, now, I figured it was my turn!

From the moment I first laid eyes on Miss Roberta Georgina McKenna, I was undressing her in my mind, longing to taste her nectar, and plunge my swollen prick deep inside her! I did not care that she was coated in her brother's cum. I had to have her now! 

I strolled over to her, as Junior left her to visit his sisters, and stood over her -my prick rock-hard, and wanting her attentions.

"Are you ready for me?" I playfully asked.

"You bet, mister," she replied, seductively, "I been waitin' fer this all night!"

Upon saying this, she turned over, resting her upper-body on the seat of the small couch, and her knees on the floor. She looked so sexy and inviting. He ass was the perfect apple, and I could see her fleshy mound peeking out from between her legs -bald, swolen, dripping, and wanting!

"C'mon, now, sugar," she purred at me, "don' be shy! Little-Bobby wants me some of yer cock!"

I needed no more encouragement -if any, at all!

Kneeling be hind her, I grabber her beautifully-tone rump, and slid easily inside her sodden snatch. Not that it was loose, as it gripped my throbbing tool quite firmly. She seemed perfect to me with her smooth, silken skin, the gentle curves of her back, and even the way she softly moaned as I worked the length of my rod in her taut and lubricious hole.

"Ah, yes, that's it!" she purred, as I quickened my pace. "Yes, fuck me harder!"

In this moment, the rest of the word was completely shut out -even as mama, the boys, and the twins continued to play. I did not pay attention to what they were doing. I did not care. All that I was, was focused on Bobby-George, her lucious, supple body, and her maddening libido.

"Oh, yes, fuck," she cried out, as my tempo, and the power of my thrusts, inreased, "fuck me hard! I'm gonna cum!"

I was getting very close, as well.

She called out loudly, as I felt her pussy spasm, and I knew that I could not hold back much longer.

"Ah, shit, I'm cumming, baby!" I cried.

She wailed and screamed at her release, and at the last moment, I pulled my twitching cock from her quivering fuck-tunnel. My sticky seed sprayed up her back in several powerful jets. The hot jism splashed down on her, as my mind went blank, my body shuddered, and I thought I might pass-out.

Aftermath

Needless to say, I did not make use of the room the twins had prepared for me. I slept with Bobby-George that night. While the others went to sleep, the southern girl and I stayed up talking, laughing, as well as fucking, until the dawn had nearly arrived.

"Why don't you stay here instead of headin' down to New Orleans?" she asked, at one point in the night.

Somehow, I did not think that I would have more fun there than spending my days with the McKenna's. So, I thought, fuck it! Why not?

"Good," she announced, when I told her that I would, "I'll make sure with mama, tomorrow. But somehow, I don't think she's gonna object." she finished with a sly grin.

The one thought that bugged me, though, was what her daddy going to think when he got home?

To be continued...