Contrasts (17 page)

After several moments he went down the hall. He tapped on the bedroom door. There was no answer. Hesitantly he pushed it open. Ann lay naked on the bed, face down, her head buried in the pillow. Her legs were parted. He noticed her slit was oozing cum and that there was a large wet spot on the sheet. He felt his cock begin to swell again. “Is...is there anything I can get you?” he asked tentatively.

“Get me a gun so I can shoot you and that black bastard and then myself,” she rasped. She turned around to face him. Her face was tear streaked, her lips swollen. “Do you know what it is to be mouth fucked? Do you know what it’s like to have a big black penis being forcefully shoved in and out of your mouth, making you gag and almost vomit? Do you know what it is to be made to swallow huge amounts of thick cum? Of course you don’t, but I do. And I know what it’s like to have that same big cock plunging in and out of me for hours. Every time he came in me I’d have to make him hard with my mouth so he could cum in me again.” She pulled the sheet up over her and turned on her side away from him. “But he made me cum too, Paul. I came three times with him. You never once made me cum.”

Before she fell asleep her cell phone buzzed. It was Rona, “Watts say for you to put the medium size plug in your asshole tomorrow morning and to dress sexy for school.” There was a pause and Ann could hear Rona saying, “All right...all right...I’ll tell her.” Then Rona got back on the phone. “That was my boyfriend, Danny. You remember Danny, right?”

Ann felt her nipples stiffen and her stomach tingle. “Yes...yes I remember him.”

“Well, Danny say to tell you hello.”

“Ahh...uh, thank you...thank him...I....I...” Rona hung up.

The next morning she showered and coating the butt plug worked it painfully into her anal opening. She wore a tight fitting pale green dress and the white pumps, no undergarments. She remembered to remove the ankle bracelet and put a band aid over the black spade tattoo on her ankle. Paul was asleep in the spare bedroom when she left.

All during the day she felt nervous, distracted and forgetful. Her students whispered among themselves about the dramatic change in her appearance. Some of the boys made obscene comments which she pretended not to hear. Darnell was in the last class of the day. When his classmates started to file in she felt her nipples harden and her mouth fill with saliva. When the late bell rang Darnell was not in his seat. During the class period she kept glancing at the door expecting him to swagger in and dare her to reprimand him for being late. He never appeared. She told herself she was relieved, but knew that was not true. She thought he might be waiting for her in the parking lot, but he wasn’t.

When she got home, Paul was still in his bathrobe. He hadn’t shaved and looked pale and haggard. He had trouble looking at her and seemed afraid to speak to her.

“How did it go today?” he asked. She ignored him. “Ah...was...was that boy....”

“No, he wasn’t,” she shot back.

“Watts left a message,” he said.

She slammed down her briefcase, “I should have known. What is it?”

“He gave me an address. I’m to take you there and wait in the car. He said to wear a button blouse and short skirt and....and he said fuck-me shoes.”

“That’s all?”

“Uh, no. He said to remind you about the...the plug and the ponytail clip.”

They left the house at seven-thirty. It had turned chilly. Ann wore a suit jacket over a white blouse. Her short skirt was tight and black. On her feet were black patent leather open toed stilettos. She was finding it much easier to walk in the four inch heels. Paul wore his chauffeur’s uniform. Ann sat in the back of the BMW as he drove. They didn’t speak. The address was in one of the worst parts of Bed-Stuy. He drove south on Bedford and turned east on Quincy. The number was 117. It was a seedy apartment building, grates on the windows, an iron fire escape zigzagging down the side. Ann felt sick at the stomach. “You mean this is it?”

Paul held the directions under the map lamp. “Yes,” he said. “117 Quincy apartment number eleven.”

“I...I don’t think I can do this,” she said. They sat in silence. Paul had shut off the engine. After several minutes she said more to herself than to Paul, “God help me.” He opened the door.

“I...I’ll be here,” Paul said. She slammed the door. He watched her trim body move away, the tight short skirt, her bare legs, the fuck-me heels, and the ponytail clip. Imagining what awaited her made his cock hard. In the foyer she pushed the button beside number eleven. The speaker crackled. Someone said, “Come on up, bitch. Second floor.”

Under the smell of cooking food she detected the odor of urine. The stairs were uneven and scarred, the wall covered with obscene graffiti. The door to number eleven was slightly ajar. Before she could rap, a gaunt black figure opened it, pulled her inside then closed and locked it. He took her arm and guided her into the living room.

Another black man sat on the soiled couch grinning up at her. “Guess you don’t remember us, Mrs. Gardner,” he said. “I’m Cory Jefferson and that there’s Ned Warren. We worked for your fuckin husband till he fired us. We used to see you when you come down to the garage. We used to talk about how we’d like to fuck old Paulie’s young wife, right Ned?”

Ned had left her standing in the middle of the room while he went to the kitchen for beer, “Yeah,” he shouted. “We say that Mrs. Gardner be one sweet piece of ass.”

Cory sat up and stared at her. His hand went to his crotch. “This is Ned’s place. I live down the street. Maybe I can get Mr. Watts to send you to me some night so I can have you all to myself. How you like that?”

He was thinner than Darnell, almost like a skeleton with black skin stretched over it. His eyes were sunk deep in his bald head, his cheeks hollow, his cheekbones sharp, a long nose, a wide thin lipped mouth, yellow stained teeth, a receding chin and a scrawny neck. His arms were like black sticks. He wore flip-flops. His long narrow feet were dirty, his toenails ragged. He’d been waiting for her answer. “I don’t think that...” she began and noticed his eyes narrow. “I mean. I do...I go wherever Mr. Watts sends me.”

“That ain’t what I asked you, bitch.”

Before she could respond Ned returned with two beers and a glass for her. “A little vodka and orange juice for our guest,” he said, handing the glass to her.

She forced a smile, “Thank you, but I don’t drink.”

He took her hand and placed the glass in it, “But I say you do.” Tentatively she sipped. Ned and Cory watched her, “Hey baby,” Cory said, “this ain’t no fancy cocktail party. Drink up.” She finished half the glass and felt a warm glow. It didn’t taste bad. The vodka seemed to cut the sugary taste of orange juice.

Ned put his arm around her waist and led her to the dilapidated couch and sat her between himself and Cory. He reached over and unbuttoned her jacket. “Nothin on under the top or skirt?” he asked and added, “don’t need to do the Master stuff. ‘Sir’ will be ok.” Both men laughed.

She looked straight ahead, “No, nothing under them, Sir.” She drank again, almost finishing what was in the glass.

Cory put his hand on her bare thigh, “Smooth and silky. You rub some kind of lotion on it?”

“Body oil,” she said.

“All over?”

“Yes, all over.”

“Why you do that?”

“Mr. Watts...” she began.

Ned interrupted, “Don’t tell us about Mr. Watts. Why you rub your body with that sexy smellin oil?”

“I wanted to...make myself...ah...uh...I wanted you to find me attractive.”

Cory squeezed her thigh, “You fuckin playin games with us. What does that ankle bracelet you’re wearing say? What them letters stand for? And look at me.”

It was like looking into the face of an emaciated corpse. “They mean I love big black cock.” Her cheeks were burning.

Cory’s hand slid under her skirt up the inside of her thigh. Ned leaned forward and began to unbutton her blouse. He whispered in her ear, “Is that true. You really fuckin love big black cocks?”

She held the glass in her lap with both hands. Cory’s fingers lightly stroked the outside of her slit. Ned had unbuttoned all except the last two buttons of her blouse. She knew her nipples were hard. She could feel her heart beating faster. “Yes,” she said.

He pinched her nipple, “Say it, bitch.”

“I’m sorry. Yes, I love big black cocks.”

“You love them in your mouth?”

“Yes, in my mouth.”

“In your hot white cunt?

“Yes, there too.”

“Where do you love our big black cocks the most, in your mouth or in your hot white cunt?”

She finished what was left in her glass. “In my...my hot white cunt,” she said. Both men laughed again.

Ned took her glass and went to the kitchen. Cory slid one finger along the inside of her crease. “Ahhh,” he sighed, “you gettin wet already.” He unzipped his pants and pulled out his long thin uncircumcised cock. It was semi-hard. He placed her hand on it. She felt it begin to swell.

Ned returned with two beers and her glass which was full. This time the taste of vodka was stronger. She began to feel a little light headed. Ned and Cory exchanged glances. “Since you got your body all oiled up maybe you ought to show us.” She looked puzzled.

Cory lifted her hand from his cock, “Strip, baby, strip,” he said.

Ned took the glass from her and pulled her up, then clicked on an iPod next to a pair of tiny speakers. Out came a slow bluesy version of “Love for Sale”. Ann stood in the middle of the room facing them. “Dance, bitch, strip!” Cory yelled.

Her face was flushed red. She felt unsteady in the spike heels, but began to move slowly to the music. She shrugged the jacket from her shoulders. Then, unbuttoning the last buttons of the blouse she peeled it back and let it drop to the floor.

Ned had taken out his thick black cock and, like Cory, had begun to stroke it. She looked at these two ignorant ugly black men sitting on the filthy couch masturbating. She glanced at their cocks and thought,
‘Soon I’ll be sucking them, soon their cum will fill my mouth and I’ll swallow it, soon those repulsive cocks will be inside me and I’ll be responding to them, wanting them to make me cum’
. She unzipped the side of her skirt and slowly pushed it down over her hips until it gathered at her feet. She stepped over it blushing furiously, but her nipples were stiff and her pussy was very moist. Except for her shoes, she was naked.

The song ended. Ned reached out his arms indicating that she should sit on his lap. He turned her so that she faced Cory. Under her she could feel his hard cock against her ass. He held her glass up to her lips. She drank. “That’s it, baby, now the party can start.” He fondled her breast. Cory had taken off his pants. His ball sack hung low under his stiff cock. He leaned forward and tapped both of her thighs. Obediently she parted her legs. Ned touched the ponytail ring. “What’s this for?”

“So you can see,” she said.

“See what?”

“See my face.”

He pretended to be confused, “But we can already see your face.”

Cory had taken off one of her shoes. He was holding her bare foot. He laced his fingers between her toes. She watched him fascinated and the thought occurred to her that this was a moment she would remember for the rest of her life...an epiphany. The skinny black man working his filthy fingers with their long dirty fingernails between her toes. Dramatic contrasts, Gordon Watts would say: her pale white perfectly formed toes with their glossy red manicured toenails separated by the skeleton-like fingers of this rank smelling black man, his ragged fingernails digging into the skin of her foot. His ugly cock sticking straight out aiming at her pussy which she imagined opening like a flower to accept it.

Ned pinched her nipple and repeated, “We can already see your face so what’s this clip for?”

“It’s so you can see my face when....when...I’m sucking you.”

Ned turned her head toward him. “Kiss,” he said. Even before their lips touched, hers were parted to receive his tongue. She felt Cory’s fingernails dig into her foot. Under her Ned’s cock twitched. When they parted, Cory released her foot and pulled her forward off Ned’s lap so that she knelt between his spread legs. His odor made her head spin; sweat and urine and dirt and the distinctive musky scent of a black man’s crotch that both repelled and attracted her.

“Suck it,” he said. She inched forward.

Ned grabbed her hips lifting them. “Doggie,” he said. She lowered her back and raised her hips higher. Leaning on her elbows she took the uncircumcised head of Cory’s cock into her mouth. A moment later she felt Ned entering her. Immediately she felt waves of heat wash over her body. Her mouth filled with saliva, her secretions coated Ned’s cock. She seemed suspended between them and belonging completely to them. The vodka, the strong male smells, Cory’s fingers between her toes, Ned’s kiss, the rancid taste of Cory’s cock filling up her mouth, the hard thrusting rhythm of Ned’s cock driving in and out of her oozing pussy, and the contrast; a young married educated white woman servicing two ugly black truck drivers. She began to moan and tightened her lips around Cory’s shaft just as she began to push back against Ned’s pounding cock.

Suddenly Cory shouted and started to pump his cum down her throat. He held her head tight over his cock so she had to swallow it. Ned grunted and dug his fingers into her hips pulling her to him and squirting his load deep in her womb. At the same time, a powerful orgasm wracked her body and quickly built to a second one and before Ned withdrew his cock, she reached between her legs and touched her swollen clit. She came three times within two minutes. She collapsed between them, some of Cory’s jizm leaking from the corner of her mouth and gobs of Ned’s cum running from her cunt.

All three were sweating profusely. After several minutes, Ned rolled off the couch and stumbled toward the kitchen. He returned with beer for Cory and himself and a new glass for Ann. It contained almost all vodka and ice cubes. Her head was still between Cory’s legs inches from his limp prick. Cory sat with his back against the end of the couch, his stick like legs splayed open. He took the beer and drank. “Jesus, this white bitch drained my cock.” He poked her with a bare foot. Ann stirred and slowly sat up.