1 comments/  68943 views/  10 favorites

Almost Heaven Ch. 01

By: 99_percent_oral



Nobody ever forgets a goddess. This one lives in West Virginia; her name is Jeanne. Her angelic face, gives no indication that, had there been such a category in her senior year college yearbook, she would have been voted Most Likely to Give You a Blowjob.

Jeanne adored amusement parks from the time she was a little girl. If her fascination with cocks could be traced to its inception, perhaps it began there. Intermixed with memories of whirling rides, sugary treats, and fireworks, were two adolescent boys she stumbled upon when she was nine or ten. They were taking a whiz at the edge of the parking lot.

What are those things? Jeanne thought as she watched them holding themselves and simulating dousing The Great Chicago Fire. It was her very first encounter with what she would later learn was a penis and a lifelong love affair with male genitalia.

When she was finally permitted to date in her senior year of high school, Jeanne began to think more seriously about boys' dicks. It both disturbed and excited her when she thought about them urinating as she had seen almost a decade earlier. How could something as unpleasant as piss be so inextricably linked to something as desirable as a penis?

No matter her reservations, she quickly let a date talk her into giving him a hand job. When she fumbled several times as he was neared his point of release, he grabbed his dick from her and finished himself off. Jeanne watched intently and was thrilled when creamy cum came splashing out. Semen was ever so much more erotic than pee and Jeanne had a new image to excite her replacing that disturbing old one.

After her failed jerk off attempt, Jeanne snuck over to a neighbor she'd frequently used as a sounding board for topics she felt her parents would handle too judgmentally and her friends too derisively. He was a couple of years older than she and definitely someone she wasn't "interested" in. Still, he had showed her "his" when she asked and counseled her about kissing and petting before her first date.

Truth be told, James had had considerable leeway with Jeanne's body as she let him experiment under the auspices of educating her. He was more than patient as he allowed her to use his cock to practice her stroking technique. When the subject of oral sex arose, he again permitted Jeanne to use his dick as a learning aid. 

Being somewhat better endowed than most of Jeanne's dates, he even helped her to learn how to deep throat. It was with his cock in her throat that she had her first orgasm. She was shocked and even had to ask him to confirm what she'd experienced. After that, he couldn't keep her off his dick. James proved to be quite the trooper.

For several years, Jeanne had no rational explanation for why she could cum just by sucking cock. It wasn't until she kept jumping when her mouth was examined that Jeanne's doctor told her she suffered extreme erethism of her lips, tongue, and throat.

Jeanne met future best friend Arley at the same exact same moment she met her first husband. It was a typical WVU kegger on a freezing Friday in late February, her second semester in Morgantown. Like most students who used college as an excuse for a forty-eight month party first and an education second, Jeanne took to Morgantown weekend bacchanalia like the state's U.S. Senators to a federal highway bill. 

Jeanne was having a great time and, like others at the party, rounding nicely into spring break form when a voice said, "Hi, remember me?" She knew Dennis casually from high school but almost didn't recognize him. He'd grown taller, had filled out nicely, his face had cleared up, and along with his charming roommate, Arley, had become exceedingly funny. She didn't stop laughing all night.

For his part, Dennis remembered Jeanne all to well. He'd had the fiercest crush on her but, of course, so did everyone else in high school. They shared an elective course in history his senior year but two aisles to her left was as close as he'd gotten then.

Dennis asked Jeanne out. She had no trouble getting into his pants on the first date and thoroughly enjoyed the hand job she gave him. When his fountain finally spouted, Jeanne was delighted at the height and volume of the semen shower that jetted from his dick. They began dating.

When Dennis told her he and Arley were driving to Florida for spring break and asked her to go along, she accepted without hesitation. In addition to being the most beautiful, sensuous, and sexiest woman he'd ever known, Jeanne also was the most adventurous.

South Florida was, in the quasi-word heard so often there, unfuckingbelievable. The trio shared a room...and more. Kissing, fondling, nudity, and even casual sex went on day and night as kids from all over the northeastern United States wandered in and out of their motel room like it was a dormitory common area. Jeanne made out with more guys in a single week than she had in her entire life up to that time and she handed out (so to speak) a fair share of hand jobs. 

After she watched Dennis and Arley being sucked off by a pair of Pi Phi's from College Park, Jeanne didn't hesitate to offer her favorite sexual treat to any guy that tickled her fancy, even if Dennis was watching her. On their final night in Fort Lauderdale, they over did. Dennis had effectively passed out before they tumbled drunkenly into the king sized bed they'd shared all week.

Jeanne had avoided intercourse all week, even with Dennis but with her boyfriend snoring lightly to her right, Jeanne let Arley enter from her left and gloried in the fucking he gave her. Although he was only slightly larger than Dennis, Jeanne praised Arley for his size and told him she loved his dick. In the morning while Dennis went for coffee, Jeanne sucked Arley off for the first time.

Back in Morgantown, Jeanne decided she'd like more of what Arley delivered in Florida. In an effort to judge her boyfriend's receptivity to such a relationship, she confided that she'd like to have sex with Arley some time. In fact, she'd like to have a threesome with both of them. 

Dennis loved Jeanne and loved sex even more. Her first double penetration with Dennis in her cunt and Arley in her mouth left Jeanne weak even into the next day. Never had she been so excited; never had she come so hard. 

Jeanne continued fucking Arley, both with and without her boyfriend, even as she became serious with Dennis. For his part, Dennis was the least jealous male she'd had ever met. If he came back to the apartment and found his girlfriend in bed with his roommate, he'd say something like, "Don't make too much noise, I want to watch the game."

Dennis led Jeanne on a sexual journey she'd never imagined: trips to stripper bars and adult stores, pornography watching, vibrator and dildo play, swinging with other couples, threesomes with other men (and once with another woman). It opened Jeanne's mind and defined a new version of morality. Jeanne enjoyed it immensely. The quest for orgasms -- both hers, and to some extent, even more, her partners' -- became a sort of life ethic.

After Arley flunked out at the end of his sophomore year and moved back home to figure himself out, Jeanne moved into the apartment with Dennis. He asked her to marry him as long as she agreed they could remain open to other partners. Impetuously, she said yes.

Jeanne became highly fond of sucking the cocks of new guys she'd meet. Blowjobs were the easiest sexual act to accomplish. Everyone's clothes remained on. Because only the cock was exposed, only a bare minimum of privacy was needed. If the couple remained anonymous, even on-lookers could be tolerated to a degree. Not only that, but she could cum like a runaway freight train in the process.

Putting her head in the driver's lap while cruising down the highway was something Jeanne was more likely to do than not. So what if a trucker saw her giving a blowjob. In some ways, it made it even more exciting. Jeanne blew both Arley and Dennis frequently as they'd cruise the river in Arley's boat. None of them doubted other boaters watched. Several times they even got an ovation from a spectator boat full of fishermen when Jeanne popped up topless with her arms in the air and her mouth full of cum.

One of the hottest times she'd ever had was giving a BJ on a public beach. Dennis and Arley went fishing and Jeanne had gone swimming and sunbathing with a girlfriend. It didn't take long for some cute guy to start hitting on Dennis's wife.

Jeanne was lying on her tummy with her bikini top unfastened chatting away. Resting her head on her hand so she could look at the guy, she became deliberately animated a few times so she could flash her bare boob at the hot looking stranger. Of course she offered the obligatory, "Oops" [and girls think guys have all the lame lines] and pretended to cover herself but she never re-tied that top. 

A few beers later and Jeanne was sprawled with her head across his midsection and a small towel covering her face and his pleasing plump protuberance. Her legs were spread and bent at the knee as she kicked her feet to a slow, seductive beat. Her body was a beautiful gold, covered only by a tiny pink string bikini hiding a mouth-watering bottom and a terrycloth veil on her face. Her top lay discarded in the sand beside the blanket. The rapid bobbing of her head left relatively little for anyone to imagine. 

Later, driving home, Jeanne's girlfriend asked her why she let boys take advantage of her like that.

"What makes you think he took advantage of me?" Jeanne replied smiling. "He only got off twice."

"You got off just from doing that?" her girlfriend asked incredulously.

"It's a gift," Jeanne answered, stroking her fingers against her lips and throat, exciting herself, and remembering her day at the beach.

Jeanne never masturbated, at least not in the conventional sense. There were always more than enough males around to make playing with one's pussy unnecessary. Sometimes, however, she would get herself off by playing with her lips, her throat, and her tongue. As the pair rode home, Jeanne's girlfriend witnessed something almost unheard of, sight of a woman climaxing by playing with her mouth.

Despite all the fun the newlywed couple was having sexually, it became obvious to Dennis and Jeanne that their finances were exceedingly tight. They decided to get jobs. Dennis had trouble landing anything but pretty Jeanne was hired immediately. The long and the short of it is that she began a series of sexual relationships at work. She told her husband if she fucked someone else but, in her mind, her fellatio wasn't adultery, and not really any of his business.

Jeanne and Dennis divorced shortly after graduation. Even after the divorce, Jeanne and Dennis's best friend Arley continued seeing each other for sex.

Almost Heaven Ch. 02



Jeanne met her second husband after a Board of Education meeting. Normally, she wouldn't attend them but she sometimes went just to see how much bullshit members could cover without once talking about what happened inside a classroom. As usual, they didn't disappoint.

Joe was a newly elected member and Jeanne taught history in the high school. At the time she was also the girls varsity volleyball coach and one of the items on the agenda was funding for sports.

"That's you!" Joe exclaimed as Jeanne walked past him afterwards. She gave him a funny look. What a lame pick up line. "Duh, hey lady, like don't I like know you from somefuckingplace?" Whatever the phrasing, what they all meant was, "Do you put out?" Cute guys like Joe, she learned, can be just as sorry-assed as the f-ugly ones. But just because Joe was handsome didn't mean he was like the others.

"In the picture," Joe continued, pointing to a photo of the championship team in the trophy case. "You're the coach! I cannot believe that. You look like a student...and no, I'm not trying to pick you up. I play for a team in one of the recreational league and we REALLY need some help. Any chance we could get you to coach us. We might even be able to pay you a little."

Whether Joe was trying or not, he picked Jeanne up. She had a long-standing weakness for salesmen and Joe was an outstanding one. Like any sales professional, closing was so paramount he wasn't above using any means available to achieve it. In time, Jeanne discovered that included her.

It was all in fun and Jeanne really didn't mind when Joe sometimes suggested she help entertain his clients. Sex wasn't required of her, but if everyone was agreeable, it wasn't out of the question either.

If the guy was attractive enough, Jeanne would suck him off. Occasionally, she'd get carried away and fuck one of them, especially if his cock was the exact, somewhat larger than average, size she knew would make her shiver right down to the soles of her feet.

During this time, Joe was no stranger to strange pussy. Attractive and persuasive, he was a magnet for the receptionists and secretaries who populated the companies he called upon. Especially the receptionists, those women who are hired because they can present a striking face to represent management. 

There was nothing like having one's boss's boss say, "Nice to see you again Mr. Hatfield" to focus the attention of a woman counting on her good looks to curry favor and garner advancement. Married or single, they rarely turned down Joe Hatfield's offer of dinner even if it was room service at his hotel.

The most difficult thing for Jeanne was explaining Arley to Joe. She continued to date her fuck buddy throughout her courtship. She introduced him to Joe and told of her relationship going back to before her first marriage but left her future husband with the impression the friendship was now platonic. In truth, Jeanne wasn't certain when the proper moment would have been and, when she and Joe became serious quickly, discussing the fact that she was blowing another guy seemed risky in the extreme.

It wasn't until after the wedding that she told Joe she was still fucking Arley and, in fact, had never stopped. Joe was upset but didn't have a lot of moral underpinning to his position. It wasn't just that was he fucking other women. After all he argued, that was part of his "sales presentation." When he'd proposed, Jeanne's acceptance was conditional. If there was one thing she'd learned from her first marriage, it was that she couldn't be limited to one man sexually. If anything, it excited Joe to have such an erotic mate. 

The "Arley issue" was worked out and Jeanne began having threesomes with Arley and her new husband just as she'd had with her first. Jeanne continued seeing Arley on her own as his or her needs required. Even when Joe wasn't on the road, Jeanne might have Arley over to their house for a romp without Joe participating.

Sometime into their second decade, Jeanne worried that more and more, Joe worked hard but played soft. Sucking a limber dick wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Often, cum-less nights with him would have her thinking about harder tasks and she knew just where to find them.

"Hand me that bra on the chair, Joe," Jeanne requested of her husband who had walked into their bedroom to retrieve his golf shirt but stayed to watch the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen walking half-naked around their big master suite. He loved the way her perky breasts jiggled especially when her nipples were distended as they were then. She was going out and Joe knew why.

Handing his wife her bra, she held it dangling from her forefinger rather than put it on immediately. "Do you think these stockings look better, or should I just leave my legs bare?" she asked him pulling up the hem of her short skirt and showing Joe where the nylon ended and she began.

It is such a pleasant image and one of unsurpassed heat: the vista of the upper thigh of a beautiful woman where stocking and flesh met in an erotic horizon that men don't tend to forget. Joe felt the beginnings of an erection that was, cruelly, about twenty hours late.

Last evening, Joe was working on the most important reports his job required. Every quarter, there is a push to close as many sales as possible so the numbers met or beat forecast. A lot of bonus money was riding on those reports. Joe had to convince his superiors which customers he should focus company resources on and which to let go for the following quarter. 

Joe was very good about knowing his customers, and people in general, and his presentations were always convincing, but great care and effort were needed to get them right.

Jeanne knew that when her husband concentrated on providing their comfortable life, he was often unable to provide for her in other ways, emotionally, and especially, sexually. Like so many others, for Joe, stress was the great libido killer (although for Jeanne, it seemed an aphrodisiac). The blood vessels flowing into his cock seemed to be blocked by some psychological detour sign when his reports were due but happily re-opened the on-ramps to Hardon Highway once the quarter ended.

Last night was another unhappy reminder that, four times a year, for two fiscal weeks, Joe's cock belonged to his boss, not her. She enjoyed a reasonably decent orgasm as Joe lashed his tongue up and down her swollen slit while pressing urgently on her clit.

Cunnilingus, though, was one of Jeanne's least favorite activities given the old saw that sex is the greatest thing in the world; even when it's bad, it's good. It was the phallus that Jeanne craved, and sex that didn't involve a hot, hard one, always left her less than completely satisfied.

"You know I prefer your bare legs," Joe told his wife. Both knew she was teasing him.

"But you always tell me how hot you get when you see the tops of some woman's stockings," Jeanne protested mildly. "Are these two dark? Should I wear lighter ones?"

"Something closer to your natural skin?" Joe asked, hardly aware that he was offering his wife advice on how to look sexier as she prepared to go out alone. "Yes, I think that would look better."

Jeanne dropped the bra on their bed and strode sultrily across the room. She smiled inwardly as Joe followed her nipples as they bounced toward him. Retrieving a pair of light, tan, hose, she cocked an eyebrow and waited for Joe to nod his approval.

Sitting in a chair, Jeanne crossed her leg and removed one of her four-inch stiletto-heeled, open-backed, ankle-strapped white shoes and rolled the dark gray stocking down her honey brown leg. As always, Joe was amazed and delighted by the way his wife could, seemingly subconsciously, position the hem of her skirt so far up her leg and not reveal her panties. There was no doubt in his mind that less than an inch of white skirt protected her womanhood from his eyes.

Joe was completely hard now, watching his wife change her stockings. Should he attempt to change her plans? A few years ago, that wouldn't have been a question. But now that he'd failed to deliver the goods a few times, he was less confident than he'd been in his younger days. He knew that sooner or later, those customer reports would interrupt his thoughts limiting his abilities in other areas. Even now, he was losing firmness as he contemplated returning to his work.

Jeanne noticed. "Go ahead and get back to your work, honey," she told him, knowing he had become preoccupied. "I know how important they are. I'm a big girl, I can dress myself." She knew he didn't want to leave.

"I know, sweetheart, but you know how much I love to watch you when you're dressing sexy."

Jeanne had finished changing her stockings and was back at the bra she'd laid on the bed. "Do you think I should wear a bra?" It was a question without realistic alternatives. If it were up to her husband, Jeanne wouldn't own a bra. He knew they were necessary for her job but he practically forbade her from wearing them otherwise.

Jeanne wasn't large breasted (a "B" for those who require an identification using the morning beverage container standard) by any means, but she used what nature had provided her to her best advantage. Even at age forty-four, they were firm and buoyant without being hard. Like her husband, she preferred going without. Her nipples tilted upward and she could call them to attention whenever she pleased. It was as if she'd sent them to military school for tits.

Jeanne's jugs also benefited from the flat tummy from which they jutted. One of the delightful byproducts of a twenty-three inch waist is that any woman whose breast management wardrobe doesn't contain the word "training" as part of its description looks positively well endowed.

Jeanne held up a camisole before her so she could study the effect in the full-length mirror. It was her favorite color: pink. Turning toward Joe, she let one of the thin straps drop and cupped her exposed breast, clasping the distended nipple between her thumb and forefinger rolling it lightly and pulling it outward.

"So you think no bra, then?" she asked naughtily as the silk top slid over her creamy nakedness.

"You fucking, cock-teasing slut..."

"Is that a good thing?" Jeanne teased further blowing a puckered, Marilyn Monroe style air kiss to her husband.

Jeanne began holding up various panties and asking Joe's opinion.

"What about going au naturel?" Joe asked.

"Oh, I don't know," his wife sighed, "don't you think guys like it better when they see panties when they're flashed? Besides," she continued, sidling over to her husband and taking his hand, "I'm not sure I'm trimmed enough and I don't want to get the shaver back out. What do you think, Joe?"

Jeanne had used her cutest, little girl pout to goad Joe into brushing the back of his fingers against the quarter-inch, fine brown hairs of his wife's beautifully landscaped playground. Joe was ramrod hard once again and he could feel the wetness of pre-cum soaking his shorts. Jeanne spun away as her husband tried to insinuate a finger between her thighs carrying three pairs of panties with her.

"But why imagine when we can use direct evidence? You tell me which looks more exciting." Jeanne motioned Joe to the chair and sat on her make up stool. Carefully, she opened her legs so her husband could see for himself. She knew her teasing was merciless but he loved it when she behaved that way. She was also turning herself on and could feel the dampness as it began to coat her swelling labia.

Closing her legs, Jeanne stood and pulled on a bikini-style black silk item. Seated again, she parted her legs slightly for Joe's inspection.

"With or without?" Jeanne asked. 

"With," Joe admitted, acknowledging what exotic dancers have always known. A stripper's most valuable assets are not those she exposes but those left to the customer's imagination.

Jeanne pulled off the black panties and shimmied into a pair of Victoria's Secret's best high cuts. Seated again, she invited Joe's gaze between her legs once again. "Pink or black?" she asked. Joe squirmed.

"I might need a second viewing," he stated with a broad smile on his face.

"Oh no you fucking don't," Jeanne threatened good-naturedly. "Pink or black?"

"I'm thinking," Joe stalled, "but quite a few of my red corpuscles are vacationing just south of my belt buckle at the moment and I'm having trouble collecting my thoughts."

"Need a little help?" Jeanne asked walking seductively on her knees over to where her husband sat and ran her hands up his thighs. Cupping his cock, she knew he was as hard as he got these days. She thought about doing what she was obviously offering but hesitated for two reasons.

To begin with, if she sucked Joe off right now, he'd lose immediate interest in her and she was enjoying teasing him. Second, and more importantly, if she began and Joe suffered one of his work/stress-related performance attacks, every bit of magic in the moment would deflate like an inner tube with its valve stem ripped out. After what happened last night, Joe didn't need another reminder that older men's cocks could be even more fragile than their egos.

"Mmmm, sweetheart, I'm ready to explode," Joe whispered, his heart throbbing as wildly as his dick at the thought of one of his wife's sweet, succulent blowjobs.

"Tough shit!" Jeanne shot back as she wiggled her ass on her way back to her stool. "I've got problems of my own. In case you've forgotten, I don't know what panties to wear," Jeanne concluded in her best vampy voice.

Sliding the pink panties off, she let one pair dangle from each of her index fingers. "Pink or black?" she asked her husband for the third time.

"Black..." Joe whispered with a deep sigh.

Grabbing the waistband of the pink panties she pulled it back like a sling shot and fired them at her husband who caught them like an eager Pirate's rookie in his first tour of the outfield.

"But what about these?" Jeanne asked unfurling a plaid string bikini bottom she'd kept hidden from her husband.

"Damn it, Jeanne, that's not fair! You know I have a weakness for plaid!"

"You poor dear," Jeanne mocked as she painstakingly pulled on what Joe jokingly called her kryptonite panties because they left him too feeble to move whenever he saw his wife dressed like an extra in a soft porn version of Braveheart.

With her undies in place, Jeanne replaced Joe in the chair. She decided to flash her plaid panties in a fashion she hadn't with the other two pair. Slowly she raised one leg and hooked it over the arm of the chair. The panties that protected her pussy were completely exposed as she let her husband ogle her crotch.

Moving her other leg upward, she hooked her knee over the other upholstered arm giving Joe a full-on gaping beaver shot. Sensuously, she rubber her hand over her almost exposed groin while looking at Joe's face and watching him swallow repeatedly.

Tracing her finger along her tartan-covered nether lips, she asked, "What do you think, Joe? Think they'll have any upholstered chairs in the bar tonight?"

Without waiting for him to answer, Jeanne flung her legs high into the air, crossing them at the knee before letting them settle to the floor. She rose, signaling that the show was over.

"Where are you going anyway?" Joe asked despite a throbbing, leaking hard on.

"One of the bars in Morgantown. I'm feeling a little cougarish."

"Arley going with you?"

"Those places make him feel too old so he "needs to watch the game." Samantha's going instead."

"What's she going to do?" Joe laughed derisively.

"Most likely dance a little. Then report back to Arley. He likes to hear about my serial cocksucking adventures as much as you do. He knows he'll have one hot little piece of ass when she gets back. Maybe you will too...if you finish those fucking quarterlies."



Almost Heaven Ch. 03



Jeanne sat behind her desk as she waited for her next appointment. She was now a middle school teacher and parent conferences were being held. She was hurriedly scribbling notes from her last session and Buddy's dad was standing beside her before she was even aware that anyone had entered the room.

Looking up, Jeanne shivered perceptibly. I wasn't even aware that Rodin had used chocolate as a sculpting medium, she thought, even as the proof stood at her desk. Tall and chiseled, broad shouldered and slim hipped, neck like a pit bull, bare arms bulging with cords of muscle tissue, biceps threatening to destroy shirt seams were they to be flexed, square jutting jaw, full, luscious lips that looked like they could kiss a woman into the next climate cycle, nose as much Caucasian as African, deep black eyes with long seductive lashes, and a shaved head that shone like a blue ribbon apple at the state fair.

"Holy shit, you're...!" but that was all that came out of Jeanne's mouth before she was struck dumb... and embarrassed that such a vulgar depiction had escaped her enchanting mouth.

The most scrumptious male, of any color, she'd ever laid eyes on smiled so brightly even Stevie Wonder would have announced, "Hey everybody, Kendall's here!"

"Yes," Kendall said sweetly and offered his hand. Jeanne was astounded at its size. It would easily require four of hers to equal it.

"Please, sit down," she said, suddenly recalling both the mechanics of speech and her manners. Kendall took a seat in the comfortable chair Jeanne placed to the side of her desk. She preferred a less formal setting for these conferences than sitting behind her desk while the parent sat on the other side because it contributed to a more open discussion.

With mothers or couples, Jeanne would stand and roll her chair over to where they sat. When fathers attended by themselves, she'd sometimes claw at the carpet with her pumps to maneuver her chair into position. In the process, her knees would part briefly and her skirt would inch upward. She was very pleased when Kendall noticed her legs just like men who weren't famous. His eyes there produced the first of several scalding hot flashes.

Kendall Ashe was a local legend. He had been in some trouble growing up but managed to star on the high school baseball team. Finally extricating himself from trouble with the courts, he earned a scholarship to West Virginia University and was now a member of the Pittsburgh Pirates.

Kendall was at the conference for his son Buddy. He had knocked up an older woman when he was just thirteen [he was big for his age, make of that what you will]. Having no capacity for fatherhood, Kendall disappeared from his son's life until recently when the boy's mother was jailed on prostitution and drug charges. Then he stepped up big time, moving back and taking the boy in. Now he was trying to do what was right. He was only twenty-five years old but his finances were bright thanks to professional baseball.

"How do you say your name?" Kendall asked nodding at the nameplate on Jeanne's desk inscribed "Jeanne Hatfield." 

"Hatfield?" Jeanne asked, embarrassed that Buddy's dad might be functionally illiterate.

"No, your first name," he answered warmly. "Is it jean like denim or Jeannie as in 'I dream of...'"?

"Like 'I dream of...with the light brown hair.'" Jeanne said, smiling back, swirling her lustrous locks. An electric current set up a loop between her breasts and genitals.

"I think I like Jeanne."

Every teacher learns about a cognitive bias called the "halo effect" in college. Essentially, the "halo effect" describes a phenomenon where, when someone is perceived positively in one dimension, he or she is perceived positively, often undeservedly, in other dimensions as well.

If there was one thing Jeanne's husband Joe had taught her, it was that people needed to sell themselves. "Why go through life being sold short?" Joe often asked her when Jeanne's natural submissiveness threatened to deliver less than she deserved.

Joe had given his wife a two-pronged ploy take advantage of the halo effect when dealing with parents, one that capitalized on the positive qualities of her compassion and the other her breathtaking attractiveness.

With the mothers, Jeanne would spend the majority of her assessment on complimenting the child. Her husband told her that it takes ten positives to overcome one negative and she made sure the ratio was at least that.

For fathers, she deliberately dressed less casually than she did for classes. For example, the skirt she wore that Kendall was visually appreciating, was identical to one she wore with her students except that it was several inches shorter. The white camisole top was also something she wore on regular school days except then, she wore a strapless bra beneath.

Many of the items in Jeanne's wardrobe were duplicates or triplicates with minor, or major, overhauls that she could wear to her advantage in different settings. The simple black skirt, for example, had three iterations in her closet. 

The first was the one she wore to school. It rested, modestly, just above her knee. Then there was the one she wore today. It was virtually identical to her school attire except that there was far more of her legs to appreciate. There was also a third form. It was both shorter and tighter than the first two and something Jeanne wore when she wanted to look like a teacher but feel like a slut.

Nearly her entire wardrobe was either fully or partially hand tailored. While that sounds expensive, in Jeanne's case it was no more, and in some cases, much cheaper than purchasing off the rack. You see, she was "friendly" with her tailor.

He was a handsome, Italian gentleman in is his early fifties and a wizard with a needle. His wife didn't understand him but Jeanne "liked" him from the moment she walked into his shop. He was the one man she could boss around. Whatever she wanted, he would attempt. 

Having his hands upon her breasts as he form fitted one of her tops excited both of them. When he was seated on his low stool measuring and pinning her hem, his expanding crotch gave him away and she delighted in causing him erections. She adored it when he smoothed the back of a skirt, feeling her ass, or the front of her blouse, caressing a breast.

Once, when the alterations were more than she expected, Jeanne offered him a blowjob in place of a more traditional method of payment. It wasn't long before the pair conducted business by barter more often than by cash. He got to enjoy the softest, warmest, wettest mouth north of Charleston and she enjoyed the opportunity of providing release for one of the nicest men she knew. On more than one occasion Jeanne realized she experienced a bigger climax than he. Trips to her tailor were an event Jeanne looked forward to.

It was Dominic's work she wore as Kendall watched Jeanne cross her attractive legs for the third time. He could see she was flushed. She became light-headed and wished her skirt were both longer and shorter at the same time. She placed her hand on her knee with the thought that it shielded her naked leg to a small degree. The movement had the all the ear-markings of a display of modesty but Kendall knew it was done to draw his eyes rather than shield them.

Kendall glanced at the manicured hand resting on creamy flesh and smiled, embarrassing Jeanne. Her discomfort angered her and as was often the case when she was angry, Jeanne's behavior wasn't based in wisdom. Removing her hand, she slowly uncrossed then re-crossed her legs. 

You want to look? Jeanne thought, seemingly forgetting that it was she who invited his eyes onto her legs, I'll give you something to look at. With the practiced ease of a natural exhibitionist, she lifted her knee higher than need be providing Kendall a more expansive view of her lovely thighs. As she glided the opposite leg up and over, she pointed the toe of the foot on the floor, raising that knee higher providing Kendall an even better view up that short black skirt.

Kendall almost laughed out loud. This hot teacher, this woman whom his son couldn't say enough nice things about, the woman who, drew him back to school for the first time as a parent so he could see for himself, was a rank amateur as a cock teaser.

Kendall had grown up in his grandmother's home where his mother was rarely present, and his aunt and her hot girlfriends spent practically every Friday and Saturday night entertaining the neighborhood bucks. With their big asses and tight dresses, those women knew how to tease. While the white kids humped each other through four layers of woven cotton on foam rubber, family room futons, these women simulated fucking like some soft porn TV reality show. They weren't simply professionals compared to Jeanne's amateur, they All Star Game performers. They were Hall of Famers.

Jeanne did not complete the crossing of her legs, however. As she swung her ankle upward, Kendall caught it and placed it on her knee so Jeanne sat cross-legged like a man does. Her skirt rode high on her spread thighs and offered Kendall a clear view of her panties framed against the black of her skirt and honey gold of her shapely legs.

Unlike virtually every other man she knew, Kendall would not avert his gaze and looked directly at Jeanne's sweet beaver while talking to her. He had removed his hand from her ankle but Jeanne remained seated as he'd positioned her.

"Jeanne, I think you're an exciting woman and I love those pretty pink panties you have on, but I'm really on a tight timeline here. I have to be in Pittsburgh, in uniform, in less than two hours. Let's just discuss Buddy this time, OK?" With that, Kendall again took hold of Jeanne's ankle and slid it down her leg closing the most beautiful valley in the state of West Virginia.

Jeanne had no idea how she managed to get through the remainder of her appointments or what she said during them. Only two things registered in her brain: the cauldron of slick, boiling estrogen-based oil that, for all intents and purposes, now was her cunt; and the hot black hunk that had lit the fire that melted her.

That evening, Jeanne wore her husband down to a frazzle as she sought to drive away the image of a potent black phallus penetrating her ovaled red lips. She used Joe's cock like a straw to drain every wriggly sperm and every .cc of seminal soda from the recesses of his scrotum.

"You're dry, Joe," she said mischievously as he writhed in arid cock seizures that signaled he was through for the evening. There wasn't so much as a little seminal dampness remaining for her still parched tongue.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jeanne, you sucked me off three times in the last ninety minutes. Men aren't made of cum, you know."

No, you aren't, Jeanne laughed to herself, but I know what sort is!

"Snips and snails and puppy dog tails my ass," she'd written in her diary shortly after she started dispensing hand jobs. "Sperm and semen all creamy and even, that's what little boys are made of." What was true is that her arm was always exhausted before their dicks were.



Almost Heaven Ch. 04



After parent conferences, Kendall seemed to be everywhere Jeanne went. Stopped at an intersection, there he was, driving from her right, turning left. Jeanne beamed her brightest smile hoping to attract his attention, but his focus was on the road. He passed her car slowly never noticing her inviting grin.

Jeanne turned around and followed him. When he entered a luncheonette, she followed him in a few minutes later. Feigning surprise, she said hello, then accepted a chair at his table.

As they chatted, Jeanne could feel herself dampen then soak the panties she'd worn. Suddenly, it felt as if she were seated on a steaming bowl of broth. Her musky aroma and female pheromones threatened to overpower her perfume.

"You smell nice," Kendall offered without warning.

Shit! screamed Jeanne's mind. Can he smell me too? Is he telling me he knows he excites me? Is he saying he knows he can have me anytime he decides? 

Jeanne wasn't even sure herself if she'd submit to the handsome young black yet she was sure he knew it. Despite her submissiveness, she wasn't used to men controlling her. For just a moment, her hands trembled as she imagined sliding under the table and fellating him right there.

When Kendall excused himself after coffee and fifteen minutes of banter as boring as last month's weather report, Jeanne snapped. Intimate thoughts of what she'd do with the young black man had her needing sex immediately. If he'd asked, she'd have surrendered without a fight. Since he hadn't and she was too shy to ask herself, she sped to the place where Arley worked, frantically dialing his cell phone from hers.

"Arley, baby, I've got to see you right now!" she told him, her desperation palpably apparent. He told her he needed half an hour before he could take a break. "Hurry!" he heard her whisper hoarsely.

Arley found Jeanne pacing frenetically by his van in its usual parking space in a shaded, deserted part of the lot that served as one of the couple's love nests. He never tired of seeing her and her beauty always made his heart beat faster. His stride shortened noticeably when those incredible legs buffeted by her miniskirt made him feel momentarily light headed.

Jeanne greeted him by rushing into his arms, kissing him with more passion than he could remember, and an urgent tugging at his belt buckle.

"Slow down, darlin'" Arley chuckled warmly. "Wait till we get in the van." He was always cautious about someone seeing them together.

As she stepped into the back of Arley's conversion van, Jeanne felt his hand creep up her thigh, reaching for her panties.

"Not that damn it!" Jeanne hissed as she shoved him into the plush chair and began undressing the lower half of his body. She pushed her head into his lap, the familiar redolence of his groin wafting along her humid olfactory passages. He was still soft as she sucked him ardently into her mouth. Arley was the only man who could give Jeanne the thrill of sucking him hard. Discounting Joe's occasional bouts of impotence, everyone else, including both her husbands had always been hard by the time they cleared their zippers.

Jeanne delighted in the feel of Arley's growing phallus. He knew he was special to her because of that and he encouraged her to describe what she was feeling.

"Mmmm, darlin' that feels so nice. What are you trying to do to ol' Arley?"

"I'm not trying to do anything to ol' Arley. It's his penis I've got the hots for."

"Penis?" questioned Arley. "You know Arley's dick don't like to be called no penis." Jeanne often felt uncomfortable using street lingo. Arley was the one of the few exceptions and she loved letting down her hair for him.

"Cock. Is that better Arley? Your big ol' fucking cock. I want it to get hard so I can suck it off. I want it to shoot cum in my mouth so I can taste it and swallow it. My cunt loves it when you come in my mouth. But how am I supposed to do that when you want to chit chat?"

Arley got hard, just like always and Jeanne built toward her own climax as she sucked him to his. It felt so nice when Arley spasmed with her and his hose offered a modest quenching of the flames Kendall had ignited. Jeanne rested her head on Arley's thigh and listened as his breathing recovered, then, to his surprise, she requested a second helping.

It wasn't that Jeanne was always satisfied by one go round, but normally, these quickies, where she rushed over were hurried by other items in both their appointment books. Today, although she seemed hurried, she swooped down for another sample of Arley. What he didn't know, of course, was that this wasn't one of Jeanne's usual hankerings. This time she was cooling the heat of forbidden lust. It was one of the few times Jeanne used Arley as the object of her release when he wasn't also the object of her desire.

A fantasy black phallus throbbed in her imagination as she desperately went back down on her fuck & suck buddy. It was that big black cock teasing her imagination she was trying to please as she mashed her mouth up and down Arley's dick. It was black cum she thirsted for as Arley spurted into her oral cavern again. In the end, Arley was drained but Jeanne's hunger remained.



Almost Heaven Ch. 05



Jeanne struggled with her thoughts of having sex with Kendall Ashe but not because of her marital status as most women would. If her husband had a problem with her desiring a young black man, he'd just have to deal with it. No, her problem was a professional one: he was the father of one of her students.

Teacher-parent trysts didn't carry the same social and legal stigma as sex with a student does but it was frowned upon nonetheless. Charges of favoritism could easily be leveled and difficult to defend against. If Buddy or one of the other students found out, she could be the target of blackmail. Jeanne shivered as she considered what might be demand of her.

Jeanne did what she always did when faced with a difficult decision; she talked to Joe. When he argued against it, using the same rationale the logical part of her brain had already deduced, she sought a second opinion. Arley concurred with Joe. Did no one understand the depth of her yearning? Her cunt was a veritable tinderbox that burst into flames at every thought and sighting of Kendall Ashe. Even the mention of his name could cause a spark big enough to singe her pubic patch.

Perhaps Arley wasn't the disinterested voice she usually relied upon given her now frequent and frantic trips to suck his cock to soothe the ache that every Kendall sighting induced. Intimacy with Kendall might spell fewer blowjobs for Arley.

In an effort to find someone who understood the lust that commanded her, Jeanne resorted to something she rarely did. She consulted a female friend about sex.

Samantha was a friend and coworker of Jeanne and Arley's steady girlfriend. She knew Jeanne was fucking her boyfriend and learned to accept it. She'd even had sex with Jeanne's husband on a few occasions.

"Samantha," Jeanne began when the pair were seated in seclusion at lunch, "do you remember Jack Fletcher?"

"Fletch the letch? Sure I remember him, why?"

"Wasn't he fooling around with one of his students' mothers one time?"

"No, Jeanne, he wasn't fooling around with the Baker boy's old lady, he was fucking her," Samantha corrected. Jeanne's reluctance to speak the language of l'amore irked Samantha. 

"What sort of trouble did he get into for that?" Jeanne continued, waiting for Samantha to figure out that this line of questioning wasn't just some idle chitchat.

"Trouble? He didn't get in any trouble that I know of. They were both adults. I think old man Johnson called Fletch into his office and warned him that there were ways Fletch could end up eating more than Mrs. Baker's box lunch if things went badly. Like his teaching credential if charges of special treatment were brought, or his flesh-and-blood bat and balls if her old man found out."

"So the school did nothing about it?" Jeanne wanted her conclusion confirmed.

"Jeanne, what's this really about," Samantha asked, finally realizing her friend had a more personal interest in the scenario of a teacher having an affair with a student's parent. Jeanne remained silent, not looking Samantha in the eye.

"Why Jeanne Hatfield you old slut you!" Samantha smirked when Jeanne refused to continue voluntarily. "Who is it? Whose dad did you get the hots for at conferences?"

Jeanne hesitated, embarrassed about what she was thinking on multiple levels, but also anxious to have Samantha understand her dilemma, to hear Samantha's reaction and advice. After all, she hadn't done anything yet, only fantasized.

"Buddy Ashe," came the answer following a sharp intake of breath. "And who are you calling slut?" Jeanne added quickly, before she forgot.

"You want to fuck Kendall Ashe?" Samantha whispered furtively like the subject of the women's conversation had suddenly turned to selling atomic secrets to the North Koreans. A low whistle followed her question.

Actually, I'm mostly just thinking of sucking his dick, Jeanne thought, but I guess that's not a distinction most people would make.

"You seem surprised," Jeanne deadpanned causing Samantha to crack up.

"You fucking cock hound you," Samantha continued in a whisper. "Do you think he's interested in you?" Samantha knew full well that EVERY man was interested in Jeanne.

"I don't know..." Jeanne answered trying her hand at being self-effacing. Samantha wasn't buying her friend's brand of bullshit.

"Don't fuck with me," Samantha retorted. Then in a quieter tone, "Have you ever been with a black man?" 

Jeanne shook her head. "You?"

"Not really," Samantha answered. 

Jeanne pounced. "OK, "not really" is just another way of saying yes, so dish damn it."

"It wasn't a big deal," Samantha began. "I'm serious!" she continued when Jeanne gave her a "don't bullshit me" look. "I kissed one once. Happy now?"

"That's all? You kissed a black guy one time?"

"I, uh, may have touched his dick a little," Samantha continued, her comment triggering a sly smile.

"Oh, you may have played with his cock too? How did you happen to remember that? I mean it's hardly germane to the discussion now is it?" In truth, Samantha loved her friend's sardonic wit.

"Have you ever been with a woman?" Samantha asked, avoiding the question but emboldened by the content of their conversation.

"Once," Jeanne answered truthfully.

"What did you do?" Samantha continued. Jeanne could see that her friend was beginning to become uncomfortably excited.

"We kissed a little. I liked that. She touched me and played with my breasts. I did the same with her."

"Did she lick you?" Samantha wanted to know.

"Mmmm hmmm," Jeanne answered. "I licked her too."

"Did you come?" 

Jeanne nodded.

"Did you make her come?"

"I think so," Jeanne answered, then chuckled, "Who can tell with a woman? We can fake it so fucking easily."

"Would you do it again?" Samantha wanted to know.

"I don't think so," Jeanne answered honestly. "I really like men. If a cock isn't involved, I just don't get that much out of it." 

Then, feeling in a teasing sort of mood, Jeanne leaned over and kissed Samantha on her lips. "Now, tell me about that black stud you jerked off."

"Jesus, Jeanne, I didn't jerk him off! It was right after college. A few of us were having some drinks and my friend Helen, you remember Helen..."

"The one that makes me look like Mother Teresa?"

"Yeah, her. She catches me looking at the black guy standing at the bar so she tells the waitress to have him come over to our booth. I was so fucking scared cause I knew Helen was going to do something to embarrass me. I tried to stop her but the next thing I knew he was standing right there. Helen got up and let him sit between us."

"And that's when you put your hand in his pants?" Jeanne asked egging Samantha on.

"Christ, Jeanne, I'm not that easy...at least I wasn't then," Samantha laughed. "Anyway, Helen just bats her eyes at him and says I got the hots for him. Says I'm curious about whether all black guys are big. "She'll have to find that out for herself," he said talking to Helen but looking directly at me."

"That sounds like a load of horseshit," Jeanne cautioned. "You'd better be telling the truth."

"I fucking swear," Samantha swore, her lips still tingling from the kiss. "All the girls were chanting for me to do it so I did. I unzipped his fly and stuck my hand in."

"You jerked him off right in public? With you're your friends watching?"

"I told you I didn't jerk him off!"

"This I gotta hear," Jeanne said with suddenly increased interest. "Don't tell me you blew him!"

"No, I didn't blow him either. That's just it, as soon as I wrapped my hand around it, he told me he had to go. He zipped up and walked back to the bar. Next thing I saw he was kissing some woman that walked in. Probably his wife. I told you it was no big deal."

"Was he?" Jeanne asked mischievously.

"God Jeanne, is that all you ever think about? Dicks?"

"Don't avoid the question."

"I don't know! Hell, he wasn't even hard. About Arley's size...when Arley's sporting," Samantha answered with a huge grin. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happed if that woman hadn't walked in.

"Kendall fucking Ashe, huh?" Samantha sighed after a lengthy pause. "I hear he's got the biggest dick in Pittsburgh."

Jeanne rolled her eyes. Everyone had heard Kendall had the biggest cock in Pittsburgh.



Almost Heaven Ch. 06



Kendall called Jeanne at her home because Buddy had been in a fight at school. He wanted her to meet him at a diner outside of town in an hour. She fretted she hadn't enough time to prepare. It didn't help when, for thirty solid minutes, she scurried about from garment to garment like the proverbial guillotined barnyard fowl.

In the end, Jeanne selected a casual look. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and put on a thin, beige top eschewing a bra. She wore a sexy, loose-fitting blue skirt that rested just at mid thigh. She tugged a pair of pink panties on and off three times before finally deciding to wear them. Her shoes were a pair of white workout flats with matching ankle socks.

She was proud that she hadn't overdressed as she sped out of town. Why should Kendall know how much I'm lusting after his black cock? she asked herself as she imagined going down on the biggest stud in town yet again.

Kendall was seated in a booth when Jeanne arrived and she slid in opposite him. She was thankful she decided on panties as her slick pussy might not have the necessary friction to keep her from sliding right off the vinyl seat and onto the floor.

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice," Kendall began. "What can I get for you?"

"Just coffee, thanks," Jeanne answered, unsure of her voice. "You wanted to talk about that little scrap Buddy got into at school?"

"In a minute but I have a request of you first."

Jeanne looked at him quizzically.

"Slide your panties down," Kendall demanded.

Momentarily struck dumb by the preposterousness of such a command, Jeanne finally recovered enough to murmur, "What are you talking about?" She was frightened by the request, even more frightened at how excited it made her, and most excited because, ultimately, she knew she would do it.

"Pull them down," Kendall repeated. "You're such an unimaginative tease, Jeanne, you know that? I want you to be world class, not just the best on your white-bread block. I want us to have this discussion while you wear your panties are around your ankles."

"Don't be daft, Kendall," Jeanne said, uncertain if the young black ball player was playing a game with her, pulling some sort of clubhouse prank at her expense, just waiting for a bunch of the guys to jump out pointing and laughing and calling her a slut.

"Please, Kendall, someone will see." Jeanne said when Kendall didn't respond. She was so scared that she had to squeeze her pussy muscles tight to avoid urinating. 

"Suit yourself, then, I've got to go," Kendall told her, sliding his leg outward like he were going to exit.

"Wait," Jeanne whispered, her pussy throbbing uncontrollably. She felt her hand sliding upward under the hem of her skirt as she stared into Kendall's dark eyes like she'd been hypnotized. Inexplicably, a stupid joke Arley once told her popped into her head. 

Q: Why do blondes wear panties? 

A: To keep their ankles warm.

Quickly, she dragged her bikini panties off her hips and down her thighs. Propelled by gravity, they slid freely over her smooth calves and gathered at her ankles. The waitress did a double take when she took Jeanne's order. Clearly she saw the panties and stuttered, having difficulty writing "black coffee" on the slip.

Jeanne sat rigidly erect while talking to Kendall, an interesting juxtaposition of the highly proper with the highly improper. She sat with her back straight, shoulders square, thighs, knees, calves, and ankles pressed firmly together while a puddle of pink silk covered her sneakers. 

Her heart was beating with the rapid ferocity of a string of exploding Chinese firecrackers. She was panicked that she would orgasm on the spot flooding the red vinyl of the diner's seat until it overflowed onto the floor.

Jeanne did most of the talking. She told Kendall both she and Joe were huge Pirates fans. When they did get to Buddy, Jeanne said the fight wasn't serious, just the sort of dust up to which seventh graders are prone. Jeanne told the black man who always seemed to make a change of underwear mandatory not to worry, that his son wasn't a bad kid.

"I hear you're the bad girl at school," Kendall commented as unexpectedly as when he "forced" her to pull her panties down. This time, Jeanne was more confused than shocked.

"I heard what happened," he continued when she looked perplexed.

"At the dance?" he said before she finally caught on. Jeanne blushed furiously. 

Jesusfuckingchrist! she fumed, did everybody know about that fucking dance?

The event that now had Kendall grinning widely at Jeanne's embarrassment was a student dance a few weeks before parent conferences. Teachers were required to rotate chaperone duties and it had been her turn. She was paid modestly for her work, but the real compensation was in seeing her students having fun outside classes.

What got Jeanne into trouble wasn't her behavior; it was the outfit she wore. It was all over school the following Monday morning and the principal called her into his office. She offered no excuses, or explanation of any kind, and promised that she'd dress more modestly in the future.

After she'd admitted to what she'd done and offered an apology, the principal pulled a single sheet of paper from a folder on his desk and handed it to her. She had been written up! Just like that! What a fucking prick, Jeanne thought as her temper flared at what she read. She opened her mouth to protest but he just shook his head.

"Jeanne," he told her with a degree of sympathy, "objecting won't change anything. I would have thought that by now you'd realize that you are destined to be treated differently."

"What are you talking about?" Jeanne asked with an edge in her voice.

"The clothes you wore were inappropriate but any other female in this building could have worn the same thing and nothing would have been said. You, however, got reported to the school board. My hands were tied; I had to write that."

"I still don't get it," she replied, marginally less annoyed.

"You're too pretty, Jeanne. People are going to gossip about you and then something has to be done so no one's ass is left exposed. I know it's not your fault. People are envious; they want you held to a higher standard. Less attractive members of the faculty go unnoticed but you take a breath in a faculty meeting and half the staff gets an erection." He shrugged his shoulders.

Jeanne began to fume all over again. She was to be punished because she looked TOO nice. It would be like telling one of her students she had to flunk him because he was too smart.

"Is that all?" she said through clenched teeth.

"You have to sign it," he said, clearing his throat.

After seriously considering refusing, Jeanne grabbed the paper, scribbled quickly, and shoved it back at him before storming out. As she expected, he put the disciplinary report back into the folder without examining it.

I wonder what he'd have said if he'd read it? she thought as she rounded the corner, a growing smile playing on her lips. She hadn't signed her name; she'd written, "Fuck You."

The funny thing was that Jeanne hadn't intended to show up at the dance dressed as she was at all. In fact, in a way, it was all Kendall's fault. Joe had gone fishing with Arley for the day. Jeanne knew when and where Kendall worked out. She put on a short, sexy skirt, thin blouse, no bra, sexy sandals and drove to the gym so she might "accidentally" bump into him. 

She had just exited her car when she saw him coming out of the door. Her plan was to: a) be surprised when she saw him, and then b) say she was thinking of joining and ask his opinion of the place. Maybe, he'd even offer to help her workout sometime. 

Jeanne had managed to get herself super horny as she worked up the nerve to put her plan into action. The fly in the ointment was the hot, light-skinned Hispanic girl that followed behind Kendall. Once outside, he turned and kissed her on the lips before he headed for his car and she for hers.

Jeanne was furious and frantically dialed Joe telling him that she was on her way to Arley's boat. She tried to avenge her defeat at the hands of Kendall's "Latina slut" and reaffirm her desirability by taking Arley from behind and Joe in her face on-and-off for more than two solid hours. 

She brought the randy threesome to climax after climax after climax. She felt a bit guilty, as her thoughts weren't of her husband and her second best friend, but that magnificent black hunk she now lusted for uncontrollably. 

Completely sated, the trio fell into an exhausted sleep. When Arley finally woke her, there was no time to go home and change and Jeanne was forced to go the dance in the clothes she had chosen to attract Kendall.

That fucking Kendall, Jeanne cursed as she left the principal's office, if he'd stop flaunting himself all over town, none of this would have happened. Now the very cause of her getting into trouble was laughing about it.

"Some people say bad girls need to be spanked," Jeanne heard Kendall say when she returned from her lust-trance.

"No one's ever been man enough to spank me since I dislocated my daddy's finger for whippin' my backside when I was nine." 

Was she challenging him Jeanne wondered to herself? Daring him to take charge of her? She'd never spoken to anyone like that in her life. He was causing her to behave in ways she'd not considered before. Already he had, inadvertently of course, gotten her in trouble at school. 

Perhaps she needed to dial her lust down a notch. But that was easier said than done. Much easier.



Almost Heaven Ch. 07



In addition to teachers, school dances were chaperoned parent volunteers. Jeanne just happened to be standing in the principal's office when she overheard the end of a conversation one of the secretaries was having with someone on the phone, one that concluded, "Why certainly Mr. Ashe, I'll make a note of it right away."

She watched as the woman retrieved the clipboard holding the list of chaperones and write something. Later in the day, Jeanne returned to the office and saw Kendall's name now appearing on the list the same day as she was scheduled. 

On the night of the affair, Jeanne changed her outfit a dozen times looking for just the right virgin-slut combination. Had she not already been reprimanded for unprofessional attire, Jeanne would have worn something much more daring than the selection she settled on. 

Still, the skirt that stopped several inches above her knee had a zippered slit that meant she could adjust the exposure of her thigh depending on conditions. The camisole style top was one she wore to school on occasion although her brassiere and cover sweater would remain at home for the evening's function. It just met the top of her skirt presenting her with myriad ways to expose her midriff should she choose.

Examining herself carefully in the mirror, especially the seductive gap that appeared between her blouse and skirt, Jeanne secured a glittering blue crystal to her navel, something she only did when she was feeling unavoidably naughty.

Surprisingly, to Jeanne at least, Kendall did not seek her out when he arrived. Apparently he preferred to engage in sports chatter with seventh grade boys and bask in adulation of the pubescent desires of the girls. 

Jeanne cursed silently to herself as she discovered she could not control her feet as they strolled in his direction. She stood on the periphery of the group surrounding the celebrity for several long, uncomfortable moments unrecognized.

"Oh, hi Jeanne," Kendall said, smiling brightly just as she was about to turn and leave. It was almost as if he could read her mind and made her stand in embarrassed agony as long as possible.

"Oooo, hi Jeanne," mocked a modulating, adolescent voice.

"Mind your manners," cautioned Kendall to no one in particular but obeyed by everyone.

"Good evening, Mr. Ashe," Jeanne replied in her most professional demeanor.

Extracting himself from his juvenile posse, Kendall took Jeanne's arm asking if he might have a word with her.

"What's up?" Jeanne asked casually when the couple reached a quiet corner, trying to mask the arousal she felt.

"Nothing really," Kendall replied, "I just needed to get away from the junior paparazzi league over there for a few minutes."

"How's Buddy doing?" each asked the other in unison then laughed together.

"Don't we have to 'pinky swear' or something?" Kendall asked holding his little finger out.

"What should we swear?" asked Jeanne linking her small finger in his and receiving a lust burn at the juncture of her thighs.

"I not only don't know what, I don't know why," chuckled Kendall. "I was just hoping I could hear you to use some salty language. You're always so formal and polite."

Like the day I flashed you my beaver polite? Jeanne thought darkly, still embarrassed by rememberances of what she'd done, or rather let be done to her, at conferences. Or the formal way I sat with my panties around my ankles in a public fucking restaurant? There was just something about this black ballplayer that fried her logic circuits whenever she saw him and she worried tonight would be no exception.

"Oh gosh darn then!" Jeanne whispered sternly. "Like that you mean?" Kendall shook his head and laughed.

"Gee willikers?" More laughter, more head shaking. "Golly?" Jeanne continued, using the best mock swear words she could think of given her overheated condition.

Suddenly, the gym became hushed. An invisible hand dimmed the lights as a ballad began. Young couples began pushing their bodies together.

"Would you like to dance?" Kendall asked Jeanne catching her off guard.

"Kendall!" she protested more strenuously than the invitation demanded. "How would that look if we danced to this music? The gossip would never cease. You don't have to work here but I do."

Jeanne's stated objection, of course, was to being seen dancing with the young black man, not to actually dancing with him, something that was not lost on Kendall. Taking her hand, he led her out one of the gymnasium doors and into a darkened hallway.

"No one can see us here," he offered, taking the gorgeous brunette in his arms.

Jeanne melted as she felt the strong black arms pull her close. She moved her arms around his neck and pushed her body tight against his. God his body was hard...and not just there. She pressed her lips against the collar of his shirt intent on leaving puckered testimony to the fact that she'd been there.

She felt Kendall nuzzle her neck but turned her face when his lips sought hers. He slowly danced her backwards until she was pinned against the lockers that lined the halls. Again Kendall sought her mouth but was denied when she ducked her head.

Moving his hand to her luxurious, lustrous tresses, Kendall stroked her soft hair for a few moments before linking his dark brown fingers and her light brown locks. He pressed his hand firmly against the locker pinioning Jeanne's head in position. He moved his lips toward hers and she became frightened and excited when she realized she couldn't avoid being kissed for a third time.

"Kendall, no!" Jeanne whispered softly but her tone and tenor disputed her message. Both knew he would take whatever he wanted and that she would allow it.

The touch of his thick, full lips on hers sent a jingling, jangling message across her nervous system telling her breasts and genitals to light the fires of need. Jeanne's lips were already beginning to part when Kendall's tongue reached them. 

She used her own tongue like some prehensile weapon in the battle between the sexes as she sought to drag Kendall's farther into her mouth. Her erethism was in full gallop and threatened to send her into orgasm from the kiss alone.

Into her mouth Kendall's tongue went. And went...and went. Holy shit, he's trying to see if I've had my tonsils out! Jeanne thought bemusedly. And Kendall's tongue kept going. I can't believe I'm going to have to deep throat this guy's tongue. That's got to be a first!

Jeanne felt her labia begin to lip sync a love poem to Kendall's cock like her vulva were searching for some vestigial, vaginal vocal chords that had become an evolutionary dead end with the advent of human speech. Even her anal ring was fizzing like it had been used to uncap a bottle of sparkling water.

Kendall cupped Jeanne's perky breast as she mustered all her waning will for a final attempt to at least postpone the inevitable until they were off school property.

"Kendall, the cameras," Jeanne breathed with her final available breath of dissuasion. It was a ruse, but it worked. She managed to wrest control of his thoughts from his penis. Jeanne wanted Kendall's dick even more than he wanted to give it to her but she also wanted to keep her job. There had to be a way to have both.

"What?" asked a dazed Kendall, suddenly a least twenty percent rational. "What cameras?" he asked looking around.

"You can't see them," fabricated Jeanne further. "Homeland Security made all schools install them after 9-11." It worked, Kendall released his grip on her hair and she was free to further disengage herself.

"Fucking Arabs," offered Kendall with a chuckle. "A guy can't even get any poontang anymore. Hey, would you like to go out some time?"

"You mean like on a date?"

"Sure, like a date."

"You do know I'm married, right?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Don't you think my husband might object to having his wife go out with another man?" Jeanne responded, clearly avoiding the question.

"You'd be surprised how many fans are actually proud to have their wives date a ballplayer."

"You're joking," Jeanne accused while secretly hoping Kendall was telling the truth.

Kendall pressed a business card into Jeanne's hand. It advertised The Pink Pirate and contained a Pittsburgh address and telephone number. It also had Kendall's signature on it, which made it valuable in its own right.

"It's a private club where ballplayers relax and meet female fans. Mostly it's Pirates but some of the Steelers hang out there too. The club was started in the 1960 season when the pennant run brought out a huge number of new lady fans. Bring Joe with you. There are always several married couples there. The husbands enjoy talking with the guys and the wives enjoy..." 

Kendall didn't conclude his thought because he didn't need to.



Almost Heaven Ch. 08



Jeanne looked like a dream but was close to tears as she stood in the lot of a deserted service station waiting for an attendant. The scene appeared to be staged for a classic car magazine photo-shoot as she stood beside her restored MG roadster convertible.

Her posture was perfect: erect, head high and level, shoulders square, breasts jutting alluringly, knees and ankles pressed together, bare thighs tickled by a hemline that danced playfully three inches below her panties.

The car was an anniversary gift from Joe. Jeanne rarely drove it but this was a special occasion, her first "date" with Kendall. She was furious with herself as she watched a black youth in new coveralls approach her nervously.

Kendall had finally agreed to meet her alone but she'd gotten lost looking for the restaurant. She was already almost three-quarters of an hour late, and in the middle of nowhere, when she stopped for directions. Perhaps not the exact center of nowhere but certainly not more than a few hundred feet from it.

"Yes, ma'am? Is there something I can help you with?"

"Do you know where this is?" Jeanne asked, hopefully handing him the slip of paper with the address and directions printed on it.

"No ma'am, I surely do not," he answered, handing the paper back.

"Is there someone else I can ask?"

"No ma'am, there's nobody left here but me. I was just closing up? Can I get you some gas or something?"

"Are you sure you don't know where this is?" she asked him again. "Do any of those roads sound familiar?"

He took the paper again but just shook his head. "I think Masons Highway is east of here...about twenty miles. But really, that's just a guess."

Jeanne stared blankly at the paper hoping for a revelation when her cell phone rang. She recognized Kendall on the caller ID.

"Kendall, baby, I'm so sorry, I got lost. Don't you know any places that a reasonable person can fucking find?"

"It's all right, Jeanne," Kendall's smooth baritone soothed her. "Lots of wives find they don't have the nerve to pull the trigger on something like this."

"It's not that honey, I'm fucking lost. That's the truth. If someone tells you where I am, can you give me directions?" Jeanne asked, looking at the young attendant.

"I'm going to have to re-sechedule," Kendall informed her causing Jeanne's heart to crash. "Look, I'll get back to you tomorrow." Jeanne's cell went dead; closing it, she felt a tear slide down her cheek.

"Husband trouble?" asked the obviously uncomfortable black youth looking at Jeanne's wedding rings.

"Boyfriend troubles," she sighed, dabbing her eyes. "Do you sell beer? I could use one," she said, nodding at the mini-mart set back from the pumps and smiling bravely at her misfortune.

"Seventeen flavors!" he beamed with a bright smile and walked with her to the store.

"What's your favorite?" Jeanne asked more brightly than she felt, placing a fifty-dollar bill on the counter.

"Not today," he told her pushing the bill back, "the register's already been counted out. Can't ring up any more purchases." Taking two IC Lights from the cooler he opened them, handed one to Jeanne, and held the other aloft.

"Screw the bastards," he offered sweetly. Jeanne took a big swallow; it was ice cold and delicious.

"I'm Jeanne," she said offering her hand.

"Myron," he answered, somehow getting a chill from her warm flesh. "Folks call me Ron."

"Mmmm, I've always liked Iron City," Jeanne offered, taking another deep swallow. "You old enough to be drinking that?"

"Older'n you, more'n likely," Ron answered. "I probably woulda carded you if the boss was here."

Jeanne beamed. Few things flattered her like people commenting on how young she looked. She felt even younger than they thought she looked.

It didn't take Jeanne long to get pleasantly buzzed. By the end of the second bottle, the slender, black youth had become enticingly handsome and she began to tease him. Her sour mood had improved considerably and she realized her curiosity about black cock was about to be satisfied with or without Kendall fucking Ashe.

She confided in young Ron that she did indeed have a husband as well as a boyfriend and that her husband didn't care much if she strayed. Before long they were locked in an embrace and Jeanne rubbed her hand up and down what was obviously an impressive phallus.

Pushing his shoulders back against the wall, Jeanne told Ron to strip. She kissed him wantonly as he tried to free himself from his clothing. She grabbed his cock as soon as it bobbed free and maintained a firm grip while she licked his face.

"Oh god, Jeanne!" panted Ron. "I've never had anyone as pretty as you hold my dick before. If you don't stop, I'm gonna cum."

"Not yet!" Jeanne growled. "When you cum I want it in my mouth."

Damn you Kendall!! Jeanne screamed silently as she squatted before the naked black youth with his back to the wall. You could have been my first...should have been my first, but you wanted to play all those fucking teasing games. So fuck you! I've got someone else to give me my first taste and I'm going to fucking love it! Jeanne slid her hot mouth over the head of the hard cock she held in her hand.

"Mmmm," she hummed stimulating the young stallion enjoying the most surprising moment of his life. 

Oh fuck, he's fucking delicious, Kendall!! Jeanne continued her bitter mental rebuke of her erstwhile fantasy man. I love sucking black cock now and this kid got me started, not you. Know what else? He's going to make me come, too, just by having his big dick in my mouth.

Jeanne felt her rapidly building climax rumble lowly through her loins like the frenzied beating of a timpani finale as she mouthed the youth supported by his locked knees and the store wall. She shoved her face hard onto his throbbing cock, pushing her lips all the way to his pubic bone. He does taste hot! Jeanne thought as she felt her swollen, pulsing labia vibrating against her clitoris. Suddenly she was lost in a sweet orgasm as her pussy splashed a climactic puddle of her own juices onto the tiled floor.

Jeanne never even tasted her first black cum as the happy attendant squirted his entire load into the back of her throat, missing her tongue's flavor nodules entirely.

[The final chapter of Almost Heaven will be submitted in about a week.]



Almost Heaven Ch. 09



Jeanne was in a funk. Joe had broken a long planned commitment for dinner to go out of town on business. A call to Arley further darkened her mood as he was also already booked.

Fuck it, she thought, and decided to go to the gym take out her foul humor on a stair master and free weights. She put on her tightest spandex shorts and a halter-top. Examining herself in the mirror before departing she saw the "camel toe" at her crotch.

Fuck it, she thought for the second straight time. Maybe it would encourage some decent looking guy to hit on her. That sometimes improved her outlook. What she found at the gym wasn't some decent looking guy; it was Kendall Ashe.

"Let's go to Pittsburgh!" Kendall exclaimed when he saw Jeanne. "I owe you one after the other day. I know a new place with great lobster."

Jeanne was flattered and pleased that he was taking responsibility for her getting lost. She went home to change while Kendall showered. She gave him directions to her house on his cell phone as he navigated to pick her up. Driving into Pennsylvania, Jeanne had the strongest urge to lay her head in Kendall's lap but resisted with only minor flood damage to her panties.

Kendall drove much too fast exciting her as much as it frightened her. On the drive into town, he called the Marriott and Jeanne heard him make arrangements for the room in which a black man would fuck her for the very first time.

Before dinner, they stopped at The Pink Pirate where Kendall had once invited Joe and her. It was much classier than she'd expected. Jeanne was sure she recognized a cute, young reporter who worked for a local TV station chatting with a player and there were, indeed, several upscale couples in her own age range present. 

Sitting in a secluded corner, a waiter served Asti Spumanti and left a box on the table.

"Go ahead, open it," Kendall told her.

Jeanne gasped when she saw the bracelet. "Shit, Kendall, those better not be real," she cautioned, indicating the sparkling stones.

"Sometimes, one of our guests is very special," Kendall told her as she draped the diamond encrusted chain over her wrist.

"I hear pink stones like this are especially rare," he continued.

Looking closer, Jeanne saw that between each link was a tiny engraved letter. She tried to follow them around to read the message.

"It's the just name of the club, nothing romantic," Kendall advised. By the following morning, Jeanne would whole-heartedly disagree. 

She tried to clasp it on her wrist, but it seemed far too large.

"Let me," offered Kendall, taking the bracelet from her fingers. "It's not worn on the wrist. Put your foot up on my chair."

Kendall spread his legs so Jeanne's foot would have a place to rest. A burst of passion ripped through her body as she was forced to look at his crotch in order to guide her foot. She was glad she hadn't worn stockings as his tender touch against her bare ankle, a spot so far from the major centers of arousal one might expect little or no reaction, produced flashes of heat everywhere in her body. Jeanne felt her orgasms (yes plural) still hours away, begin to simmer.

The dress she wore was the sexiest one she owned. Designed by Dominic, it had no back and the hemline was a scant inch and a half below where her labia kissed her panties. There was also a slit that went all the way to the top of her left hip requiring special thong panties. Dominic made those as well.

Jeanne hated wearing thongs but this dress demanded them so she permitted her tailor intimate access to her, front and back. She thrilled as his finger slipped across her pussy lips as he placed the thin cloth precisely. His silky digits pried apart her hot butt cleft to position the thong's rear string vertically and centered across her sphincteral circle. He even trimmed her soft pussy fur.

Her tailor coached her how to walk, stand, sit, and rise when wearing the dress. The entire package, the dress and matching panties, the posture and locomotion lessons cost Jeanne four blowjobs and she would have gladly paid double.

Jeanne was aware that those special panties were now on display for anyone who happened to look her way but she made no move to put her foot back on the floor after Kendall fastened the clasp on the anklet.

Later, at the best seafood restaurant in town, the Maitre'd quickly prepared a table with a view of the confluence of the Monongahela and the Allegheny despite a line waiting to be seated. They dined on lobster just as Kendall promised, but Jeanne couldn't taste a mouthful of her favorite meal as her mind raced up and down a list of things she wanted to do later.

Strolling in the park after dinner, Kendall held her hand, and then caressed the skin exposed by the backless dress. Dropping his hand lower, he cupped her derrière as other couples, strolling or sitting on benches, observed. Moving his large black hand beneath her skirt, he stroked the flesh a thong ignores. 

He pushed her skirt hem up until the top of her "underwear" was exposed, framing the creamy cheeks below. He behaved as if she were his trophy to display as he pleased. Jeanne leaned her head into his shoulder, moaning and shuddering, knowing he could, and would, do whatever he wanted with her.

She closed her eyes to enjoy the pulsing of her blood as it entered her nipples, her labia, and her clitoris and refused to leave. Her mouth was on fire as she licked her lips sluttily. She knew she needed to suck something soon and, as if by magic, they were suddenly in a huge suite in the hotel.

Jeanne was seated on the couch with her legs tucked under her reading one of the in room magazines while Kendall busied himself in the bathroom. He was rubbing a white towel over his bald head and wearing a terry cloth robe when he emerged. The contrast between the white of the gown and the black of his skin struck Jeanne in the pit of her stomach like a heavyweight landing a body blow.

"Do you need to freshen up too?" he asked.

"Mmmm Hmmm," Jeanne murmured contentedly more like her climax had passed than that it was still building in her blazingly hot interior.

"You may need this," he said undoing the sash on the robe. "For some reason, they only placed one in this room."

"Indeed I may," Jeanne said, standing behind him. Reaching over his shoulders, she hooked her hands into the lapels and began pulling the soft, white cloth outward. She watched as the whiteness retreated and dark chocolate replaced it. As she saw the sculpted onyx of Kendall's shoulders and upper back, she felt more like she was unveiling marble statuary than flesh and blood.

Jeanne peeled the robe slowly off the black man's body. She moved close to his back, breathing deeply and kissing softly. Her lips began to flutter as a strong electric current passed between the pair touching Kendall's back and the pair leaking into her panties.

The robe had reached his waist and Jeanne was as nervous as she could ever remember. Would he be naked beneath? The deep brown cheeks of Kendall's incredible ass rose up from behind the lowering curtain. They were even more magnificent in person than they were in his tight-fitting Pirates uniform.

Jeanne sank to her knees as she literally disrobed Kendall. She pressed her creamy white cheek against his silky dark one. The sensations in her mouth compelled her into greater and greater misdeeds. She kissed and then began licking the firm butt flesh, something she'd never done before. It made her spasm briefly. She felt Kendall begin to turn toward her.

It cascaded outward and down, the largest, most beautifully proportioned and toned genitalia she'd ever seen. Everything about it excited her: its color, its size, its shape, its proportions. It was magnificent and Jeanne began losing control completely.  

Briefly she watched her hand fondle it before her mouth joined it on Kendall big cock. She was amazed at how much dick remained to be played with even after her mouth was full. She required long movements of her arm, not her wrist, as she stroked from its base to her lips -- and he was still hardening.

Jeanne's eyes fluttered up into the back of her head. Her mind went blank for a period of time. How long, she didn't know. She knew she'd climaxed but it fired her libido rather than sated it. When she completely regained her senses, Kendall had taken charge of her. She was on her feet and her dress lay crumpled at her feet. He was cupping her pussy with one hand while urging her panties to rejoin her dress with the other.

Naked and hard, Kendall carried Jeanne, her stockings, and shoes to the oversized bed. Laying her down gently, he grazed his lips lightly across hers then slid down her chin and neck. Jeanne's nipples were already filled to bursting and screaming to be touched when Kendall's mouth found them. He pulled them in using the suction of his lips and lapped them at with his powerful, raspy tongue.

Kendall continued his tour of Jeanne's body causing moans and shivers as his powerful hands led his mouth down her abdomen.

"This is sooo sexy," Kendall told Jeanne as he paused to kiss the sparkling crystal in her navel.

His hands roamed the closely cropped hairs of her bush while he trailed kisses along her lower tummy. She felt her thighs part involuntarily as Kendall's long fingers pushed between her legs and along her slit. Jeanne knew she was wetter than Johnstown in 1889.

When Kendall moved his face above her pussy, Jeanne captured it in her hands. She needed no further preparation.

"Not like that," Jeanne whispered as she pulled his lips to her face and kissed him deeply. "Put it in me, but please be gentle." She moved beneath him so her knees flanked his hips. She used her grip on his hips to pull her pussy up, into position to be entered. 

Her slick labia flowed against the massive black cockhead as she undulated her woman-ness against his manhood. Even though she was beneath him, Jeanne controlled their coupling. Slowly, she sucked Kendall's phallus into her vagina. When he began pushing back, she sank back onto the mattress inviting him to enter her as far as her body would allow.

Jeanne both gloried and worried as Kendall thrust two-thirds of his magnificent black prick in and out of her cunt. A very few other men had been as deep but none stretched her walls as wide. It felt wonderful and her orgasm would soon be paying an extended, breath-threatening visit.

She kept her tiny fist wrapped around his cock as he thrust to help Kendall properly gauge her depth. Other men had almost delighted in using their cocks as a battering ram to assault the bottom of her pussy. Kendall didn't need her help, however and used the slit of his cock head to place gentle kisses on Jeanne's cervix before reversing thrust and pulling back until just the head remained encased in her slick, wet, twat.

Kendall loved the feel of Jeanne's hand as it glided along his shaft. It was like she was giving him a hand job as well as an incredible fuck. Jeanne amazed herself as she felt the amount of fluid welling up from her core and coating Kendall's big dick. She spread her thighs even wider as she dug her heels into his fleshy buttocks urging him to pick up his pace.

Kendall began stroking more rapidly than Jeanne had ever experienced. His cock was a blur as he pumped his hot, oiled piston in and out of her vaginal cylinder like he was red-lining a formula one race car. Jeanne's mind went somewhere it had never been before, as the most violent climax of her life wracked her body. She shook like San Francisco back in ought-six. And she did something she'd never done before. She screamed filthy, descriptive words.

AHHHHHHH!! OOOH SHIT, KENDALL!! OH, AH, FUCKING SHIT!!! FUCK ME, JUST FUCKING FUCK ME!!!! SHOOT YOUR CUM IN ME, KENDALL. GIVE IT TO ME!!!! WHAT A BEAUTIFUL FUCKNG COCK YOU HAVE.

But Kendall didn't shoot. He gradually slowed his strokes as Jeanne drifted down from Pinnacle Peak like a feather in a zephyr. Her breathing slowly returned to normal and Kendall's cock remained buried deep inside her stroking no more than half an inch either way.

"Mmmm, baby," Jeanne sighed in delighted contentment. "You make me feel sooo good. You have the best cock I've ever had. My cunt is yours whenever you want it." 

Jeanne surprised herself at the words that came out of her mouth. She almost never used the word cunt, and even when she did it was only to quote someone else who'd said it. Words like cock, cum, and fuck were reserved for conversations with Joe, Arley, or Samantha...and now Kendall. The only place she employed dirtier expressions was in her own thoughts where she used every word on the unexpurgated version of the intoxicated mariner's vocabulary test.

Jeanne was aware that Kendall hadn't cum with her and she felt him pick up his pace a bit. She was worried that he might need more stimulation, deeper contact for his cock in order to get off.

"If you need to go deeper, you'll have to use my mouth," she offered and was overcome by her sudden urge to deep throat Kendall's black monster.

Kendall knew a trick, a way to get a woman to open up her cervix so he could bury himself all the way into her womb. If Jeanne had gotten off so completely on him already, there was no telling to what heights such a fucking would send her. But he sensed a slight drying in her vaginal walls after her climax and he decided not to pursue that today. She was going to have enough trouble walking tomorrow as it was. It had been a while since he'd had someone deep throat his dick all the way.

"Are you sure you can handle me?" Kendall asked.

"Not a hundred percent," Jeanne laughed. "I've never even seen a dick like yours let alone sucked one down my throat. I'd love to try though. The good news is I cum that way anyway so I'll be having fun even while you're enjoying yourself. Have you ever been with a woman who can climax just from sucking cock?"

"Can't say as I have," chuckled Kendall sliding his cock free of Jeanne's pussy. "Where do you want me?"

"Standing...by the chair. You might need some extra support at the magic moment," Jeanne smiled.

She knelt before the hot, young, black stud and fondled the middle of his long, thick, slick shaft. She shivered as she realized that for the second time her lips would touch it, that it would enter her throat and cum there.

She began by placing puckered lips at different points on the head leaving pink lipstick imprints on black cock flesh. She picked up the cockshaft in one hand so she could fondle Kendall's balls with the other. He was completely shaven and his scrotum dangled smooth as black velvet. She moved in and began a series of tiny kisses, licks, and nibbles on his ball sac.

Kendall stood rigidly with his knees braced for support. Jeanne was determined to make them buckle. She tickled his nuts with her fingernails while giving them long wet swipes with her tongue, getting them soaking wet.

"You have beautiful balls," Jeanne said while pinning his hard cock against his belly with one hand and swinging them like a pendulum clock with the other. They were the size of small hen's eggs and Jeanne scooped one into her mouth with her tongue. Being very careful not to damage that fragile oval organ, she sucked on the flesh-covered testicle gently, humming softly as she did. 

The intake of Kendall's breath and further straining of his muscles told Jeanne he loved what she was doing, that he was a man and not some black god.

She began stroking his splendid shaft. Beating most guy's meat is primarily and activity for a woman's wrist but Kendall's dick was different. Her wrist would play a very minor role in jerking him off. Her elbow and shoulder would be required if she were going to tame Kendall's ridiculous rod.

After teasing those big black balls for several long, luscious minutes, Jeanne's lips and tongue were as excited as Kendall's cock and she knew her throat was the key to both their orgasms. She moved higher on her knees and pulled that long black dick down from his abdomen not unlike she were playing a casino slot machine.

With Kendall's hard cock horizontal, Jeanne slid her lips over the head. Her tongue stroked the underside wetting it. Jeanne was very, very talented with her tongue. It was hyper sensitive and under the right conditions, those sensations were incredibly sexual. 

Growing up, Jeanne played with her tongue the way other teens rubbed their clits. She put things into her mouth and manipulated them with her tongue. It became as much a prehensile companion as an organ of taste. Sometimes she liked to tease her dates by wrapping it around the straw in her milkshake or soda and simulating handjob except using her tongue.

She learned how to tie a cherry stem into a knot in her mouth. She'd win both bar bets and fellatio sessions with the cute guys who got excited watching her perform. Rarely, another woman would claim the same ability but while she struggled valiantly to accomplish the deed, Jeanne would tie the stem, stick out her tongue to display the result, take the stem back into her mouth, untie it, back in and retie, several times before the other woman could do it once.

Jeanne began pushing her mouth down the shaft of Kendall's fat prick. She took a deep breath when it touched the back of her throat then moved several inches deeper. When she needed to breathe, she pulled her mouth off and jerked the upper shaft vigorously with her hand, then back down she went.

Kendall was amazed as he watched the pretty white teacher slide her mouth so far down his dick. Only an inch or two remained when Jeanne pulled off again.

"Almost there," she said smiling up at him, her eyes tearing. Both were breathing heavily as their climaxes rapidly approached. She continued rapidly jerking Kendall off, steeling herself for the final assault.

"When I get back down that close this time, hold my head and fuck that last bit into my mouth," Jeanne told him. 

Kendall did just that. There would be no screaming from Jeanne this time as her orgasm hit just as her lips struck bottom. Despite her delirium, she could still feel that big cockhead expand as Kendall splashed semen into her esophagus.

Jeanne felt his knees buckle as Kendall shouted out and sank backwards dragging her with him. The black stud blasted his way out of her throat as Jeanne let him slip out so his cum could begin to coat her tongue.

Kendall lay naked, stretched on his back, with Jeanne's cheek resting on his abdomen. He stroked her luxurious, light-brown locks while she placed grateful kisses on his dark, deflated dick. She wasn't looking for another erection. It was just that she had never played with a really big flaccid cock before.

She swirled her finger in the semen that still seeped from his cock slit then cupped his heavy nut pouch. Kendall moaned at her touch and swept his hand gently down her soft back to her supple buttocks. He squeezed tenderly before reaching farther down to flick lightly at her liquid labia.

Jeanne tensed and said, "Baby, they've had enough attention for one day."

Kendall dragged his wet finger along her perineum causing her to tingle in a way she'd not known before. He took several laps around her anal ring before his fingertip came to rest dead center. Jeanne never liked men entering her back door and, sure as hell, she wasn't going to let someone of Kendall's dimensions through that tiny opening. Yet it still excited her that he wanted her that way.

Although his touch excited her, Jeanne hunched her back and pulled her bottom away from Kendall's hand when she felt his cock begin to swell again.

"Not there either, baby," Jeanne cautioned her ebony lover. "Especially not there. If you need more, I love giving blowjobs."

"There are rules, sweetheart," Kendall advised his latest, and hottest, conquest. "A black man is never finished with his white lady until he takes her ass."




Almost Heaven Ch. 09



Back home the nest day, Jeanne was seated in her MG. With her thumb on the send key of her cell phone set to dial Arley's number, Jeanne knew she'd spend the first two days of next week teaching her classes from a standing position. Her pussy hurt too much to sit down.

She waited to start her car before connecting the call. There was nothing, that wasn't sexual, that thrilled her as much as much as hearing that British sports car's engine rumble to life. There was no other sound quite like it and she always stopped whatever she was doing to listen to it.

"I fucking did it!" Jeanne exclaimed when Arley answered.

"Did what?" asked her bewildered paramour.

"It was unfuckingbelievable!" Jeanne continued.

"In other words?" Arley responded. Both were huge Sinatra fans and for years, whenever they didn't understand what the other was saying, they'd use the familiar line from Sinatra's delightful Fly Me to the Moon. It meant, "Explain please, I don't understand."

"In other words, I fucked Kendall Ashe! ...Arley?"

"Fly you to the moon, did he?" Arley finally asked with a chuckle.

"And back. In fact, it felt like he shoved the damn thing in me."