You know how it is; you get comfortable sitting at a particular table and pretty soon everyone thinks of that table as yours. I had such a privilege at a small cozy restaurant only a few moments from my offices. Great food, great service, incredible view of the river past a gorgeous well maintained park.
After a few months of enjoying my perfectly situated table (in front of the fireplace, and a great view of the avenue and park beyond), two giggly women began to use the table next to me. It was not long before the other patrons seemed to cede that table to them as well. It took me a week or so, but I got used to hearing the burble of their chatter and giggles as I read and stared out at the vista outside the window.
It is not my fault I have such acute hearing. I have to say that up front, in my own defense.
One of the women had very light skin, beautiful red hair, her bust was ample, unfortunately she had a flat butt. The other woman was a natural blond, you can tell just by looking at her eyebrows and eyelashes. Even if a woman puts on dark mascara, the color of the lash right next to their lid is still light. She, unlike her friend, had petite, high breasts and a gorgeous bubble butt. They were both thirtyish.
Goodness how they did love to giggle!
I have to confess to you that I am not normally particularly fond of blondes. As children they seem to be particular prone to being spoiled, never having to have to learn to be responsible nor think as they grew up, since their looks alone seemed to be enough for their parents and teachers. But, on the other hand, I have met a few natural blondes who were incredibly intelligent, and very responsible. So I have learned, as I age, to reserve judgment until I can see just how a particular woman has matured. My brother’s first wife was a blonde when he met her. The first time they had sex it was instantly obvious that she was a bottle blond. He learned during that marriage, do not fuck around with unnatural blondes! They do not like themselves, and that makes it impossible for them to accept love from others. My brother died a broken hearted man.
These two gals were both married. Rings with big rocks on their left ring finger gave clear testimony of both their marital statuses as well as their economic condition.
I was reading ‘Pillars of the Earth’ by Ken Follett at the time. A 1000 page page-turner set in the twelfth century amidst medieval English religious and political conspiracies.
My ears pricked up when I heard them (once again) giggle, then one of them said conspiratorially, “How bout HIS!” I sensed both women turn their head in my direction. When I glanced up at them above my reading glasses, their eyes were riveted on my crotch. Something was cooking in their fertile little minds. I was at that part of the plot where Aliena and Jack were making love for the very first time. I suspect that my member had swollen as I read.
The next day, my bleached-blonde waitress handed me an 8 ½ inch by 11 inch manila envelope when I ordered my lunch. There was no name on the front of the envelope. I was a bit intrigued, but not enough to forgo reading the next chapter of my book. I really treasured my few moments away from the phone during my lunch hour.
When my table-neighbors came in, I observed both of them surreptitiously look to see if I had opened the envelope.
Perhaps I should tell you, my readers, that I had just recently gotten a divorce. I was just not up to flirting nor games playing with women 10 years younger than I was.
After they ordered, I heard one of them say, “So what, he’ll read it later hon!” After that the two women kept their voices too low for me to hear their words, but their body language told me they were conspiring about something.
The next day was Friday. I was again handed a manila envelope, this one a slight bit lighter than the previous one. I felt a bit guilty at having forgotten to open the envelope from the day before. So I opened the envelope. As I skimmed it, I realized that it was a story about a white women, a married white women, who liked sex with black men, apparently with her husband’s knowledge of her lusty activities. The story was fairly well written. I was about half way through it when “my friends” came in. They both giggled with delight when they saw I was reading the story they had picked out for me. As they sat down at their table, I looked at them over my glasses. They both grinned as they covertly checked out my swollen groin.
Without trying to be quiet, the blonde said to the redhead, “See Betts, I told you it would turn him on.”
The blonde stepped the few feet between our tables and introduced herself. “Hi! I am Tina and this is my very best friend Betsy. We have been admiring your “equipment”!” She giggled as she blushed. “I am not normally this forward, but my husband is really pushing me to try BBC.” She glanced down at my crotch and blushed again.
I have to admit that I was a bit shocked.
Was this white woman asking me to have sex with her? Right here in front of God and everybody?
Betsy then stepped over and offered her hand. “I’m Betsy, but you can call me Betts if you want. My girlfriend and I were wondering if you would like to,” she blushed bright red, “Would like to go jogging with us this afternoon after work?”
I sat there dumbfounded. These two young white women were actually trying to spend time with me?
Betsy seemed a bit nervous in as much as I was just staring at them. “And your name, Sir?”
I was embarrassed that I had completely lost my manners. My momma would have been boxing my ears now if she were present, God rest her soul. I hastily stood up, holding out my hand, “I’m Walter.”
Tina looked again at my crotch, not as shy as she had been, and smiled, then looked me in the eye and said, “Betts, I think Walter will do just fine! Don’t you?”
Betsy’s eyes went to my groin area as well, staring for a bit at my swollen trouser leg. “Oh my god yes! I think Walter is just perfect! Johnny will really squirm when we introduce him!”
Tina giggled, “Sammy will poop a brick when I walk in with Walter! God I can hardly wait!”
I stood there awkwardly, not sure how this whole thing had started, where it was supposedly going, and what the hell were these two good looking young women doing listening to and watching the British Broadcasting Corporation?
“OH!” Betsy exclaimed. “We are getting way ahead of ourselves, Walter. But would you like to jog with us this evening? We have seen you on the jogging trail along the river several times. I don’t think we will slow you down. What do you think?”
I was thinking of the play, “What Do You Say to a Naked Lady” as I tried to gather my thoughts. “OK! Sure! I start at the corner of Tenth Street and Washington. See you there about 5:30 then!”
The women agreed and sat back down at their table, chittering, giggling and blushing, and furtively scoping out my equipment. I decided ‘What the hell’ and went back to reading the story they had provided me with. The story was of a man pressuring his wife to fuck around on him, letting him watch her taking other men’s, what had the woman called it . . . equipment. At the end of the story, the black man fucking the woman takes his condom off and expended himself directly into her fertile womb. I deliberately kept my legs pointing directly at their table so that they could see the shape of my swollen member as I read. Served them right!
The term that the story kept using to refer to the black male was “Bull”. It became clear to me that the black lover was the “Bull” to the couple, and held sway over them both. I also learned that BBC did not refer to the British network, but instead meant ‘big black cock.’
For the first time since my vitriolic marriage breakup, I found myself quite aroused.
That afternoon I happily discovered that the women could indeed keep up with the pace at which I jog. In fact, we had a great time as we jogged along the river for a comfortable three miler. I enjoyed getting to know the two women. Both were bright, adventurous, and lively. In their jogging attire, it was abundantly clear that they also had beautiful bodies.
In my life, I have noticed that rarely do two beautiful women hang out together. I surmise that is because they normally compete with each other and do not welcome a competitor of equal “qualifications”. But these two women seemed to feed off each other’s vitality and vivaciousness. I have to admit that I was charmed with my two new jogging buddies. The stirrings in my loins was evidence of their desirability. They felt half my age though, and that concerned me a bit.
Tina looked at me as we were nearing our home stretch. “Hey Walter, let us buy you a drink after we get back. What do you think?”
It was Friday evening. I really wanted to read my book. But her eyes had an intensity that intrigued me. So I reluctantly agreed. Admittedly, my recent nasty divorce did figure in to my reluctance to get close to a female just yet. But the idea of fucking not one but two gorgeous white women made my dick speak up and have a voice in my decision.
Tina squealed with glee when I agreed to let them buy me a drink.
We walked out the jog then ducked in to the Creekside Bar and Grill. All eyes instantly turned to two gorgeous white women in sleek thin, revealing jogging suits walking into a downtown bar with a black man.
Betts had a cell phone concealed somewhere in her skintight jogging suit and called her husband. “Honey! Guess what! Teen has found one! We’re at the Creekside. Get Johnny and come on down and buy us all dinner, you can meet him and we can decide.” She hung up. Must have been a message, not a real live conversation.
I felt a bit shanghaied.
Then I felt interrogated as they peppered me with questions. To their credit, they did get the hint that I was not an extrovert like they are. Tina finally said, “Betts, lets let this poor man have a little privacy. I have to pee, want to go with?” She ‘accidentally’ put her hand on my thigh, her finger tips grazing my dick as she got down from our table. Instantly I was far too swollen to stand up and leave. So I sat there and waited for them to come back. “Mr. Ready” refused to subside as I sipped my scotch/rocks.
Two men entered the restaurant, their eyes searching for a table. But as I watched them watching me, Teen bounced up to one of the men and hugged him tight, kissing him with an unreserved and passionate tongue. The man was obviously her husband . . . . or lover. She took him by the hand and pulled him over to the table the three of us had been enjoying until the men’s arrival.
Introductions all around. Thankfully my dick cooperated and subsided allowing me to stand and shake hands.
Their husbands were both nice guys. I discovered that both of them liked to read as much as I do and we soon were discussing various books and authors. Two white males, two white females, and one black male, at a table in a downtown, virtually all white entertainment spot. We got lots and lots of looks from the other white and Asian patrons. Even in these times of ‘Obama for President’ people can not stop themselves from staring, and talking about mixed race situations.
The women seemed to quiet down as they watched us three men catch our groove. Samuel invited me to dinner with them, and I accepted, feeling as if we could actually talk about things on a personal level that interested me. By the time we left the restaurant, it was past midnight! I had no idea it was so late.
We shook hands in the parking lot. We exchanged phone numbers. I walked back to my office and drove home.
Once home, I pulled out the two manila envelopes the women had slipped me via the waitress over the past two days. I opened the first one and started reading.
It was a well-written story. I found myself getting into the story line and even fantasizing being in the story. My dick was black granite as I lay in bed reading. At one AM, the blasted phone rang.
A soft feminine voice murmured “Is that gorgeous black prick of yours hard honey?” I realized it was Tina.
“Ah, well, yeah, it is! I’m reading this fuck story you gave me.”
“Which one baby? The first one or the second one?”
“The first one.” I could hear a little noise in the background. Music, and something else, I was not sure what.
“Which part are you reading? My husband is fucking me as we speak. He was so hot after meeting you that he has fucked me three times tonight, and is having a hard time getting his last orgasm off, so he begged me to call you as he fucks me. I am naked, on my knees as he pounds my white tight little cunt from behind. I have had five orgasms since he entered me this last go-round. I keep thinking of what it felt like when my fingertips touched that gorgeous hunk of meat you live with every day. I really want you to fuck me, Walter.”
I could hear the sounds of her husband slamming into her derriere. I could hear his grunts. Even Tina was starting to mewl.
“I am getting close again baby. I’m pretending that you are the one inside me fucking me with your huge black dick! Oh god I love it when you fuck me honey! Walter, honey, I need you to fuck me and shoot your black baby making sperm right up myyyyyyyy ooooooooooooooooooo, god, oooooooooo GAAAAAAAAWD . . fuck! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”
The line went silent as I felt my own spunk coat my chest and stomach.
It was my first orgasm since the start of the proceedings on my recent divorce.
What a mess.
I was totally embarrassed by my loud grunting. I suspected I had woken the neighbors a block away. As I surveyed the carnage, I heard her giggle softly.
“Oh god baby, did you cum too? That is so hot!” Her soft musical voice was again murmuring in my ear. “I had a real mind blower! My husband is now passed out cold on the bed. Poor baby. He is beside himself now about wanting me to take you into my bed baby. Betts and I are going in to get testing tomorrow and as soon as it is back, I will give you a copy. I know this is probably a really sudden out of the blue kind of thing for you, Walter, but both Betts and I want you in our bed and in our lives. Okay? So just think about it, Okay? I need to shower now, honey. Wish you were going to be here to wash my back, baby! See you on Monday unless you want to meet again before that. Just call me if you do, my darling handsome virile lover Walter! Mmmmmmmm! I can hardly wait! Bye baby! Sleep well, I know I will!” She blew an air kiss over the phone line then hung up.
I don’t remember hanging up. But at ten the next morning when I awoke, the phone was on the hook, so I guess I did.
I sat at the breakfast table, drinking coffee and thinking. Then I started plotting. This could be fun! I smiled broadly as I shaved. I felt better than I had in many, many months!
White pussy! I had never had one. Unless I counted last night on the phone. But clearly both of their cunts and bodies now belonged to me. Yes, this was going to be fun. Married, white, eager pussy. Doesn’t get any better than that!
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