Canoed Blog

He arrived home from Iraq on a morning that was stifled with the scent of things dead and living, some of them newly refreshed and ready, some wilted flowers brushed at his subconscious, rubbing themselves against the scuffed toe of his boots, at which he winced. He looked at the card in his hand; the script was cursive, curly, embossed against the stark ribbed white of the card. Dr. Madison Attard, PhD. He hated doctors. He shrugged off his bag and let it fall into and stir the dirt. He felt his shoulders sag, fought of the sudden urge he had to crumble, join his bag in the dry choking sand.

He was at Redmond Medical Center. It was a plaza, newly built with freakishly perfect landscaping and generic red brick and a gray and black checkered rooftop. People, mostly those of the geriatric persuasion, walked in and out, looking dazed, some in wheelchairs, others leaning on the strength of their loved ones. Diesel ran a hand over the stubbly surface of his head. He was hungry, horny, hot. The last thing he wanted to do was sit in some scarily comfortable leather chair and pour his heart out to some saggy breasted self-important old bitty who probably wouldn’t know a good lay if it slapped the notebook out of her hand. She would ask him questions about his tour in Iraq, ask him how it had made him feel, stare at him with fake understanding and empathy, when all she really felt was her superiority and the dollar signs clanging around in her head. There was no way that anyone, save for his company and the others that had served with and before him, could understand how being in the dry suffocating heat of Iraq had been. And he wasn’t for God’s sake, referring to the temperature.

“May I help you sir?” asked a short older orderly who had wandered from the concrete path leading from the building to the parking lot to question him where he stood, right near the stone fountain, in the heat parched flower bed. He stared down at her, dumbfounded for a couple seconds. She looked unfamiliar, inhuman for a second, as if she had begun melting in the blaring summer sun. Was he even at home? He looked down at his boots again, the scuffs really beginning to get to him. He stared up at the sky, blue, silken, foreboding. “Sir?”

“Yeah,” he shoved the card at her, and she examined it closely.

“You’re here to see Dr. Attard?” she asked, palming the card as if holding it ransom.

“yeah.”

“What times your appointment, I think I just saw her leave for lunch.”

“Not until 2:30. What time’s it now?”

“Just now one. Are you alright, you look a little sick. Why don’t you pick up your bag and follow me inside. It’s air conditioned and you can eat something in the cafeteria.”

She doesn’t say anything but Diesel is sure that the combination of his uniform and his dazed look, his demeanor suggests that he might have been one of the many that had been chewed up and spit out by this everlasting war. He picked up his bag, straightened his stance a bit, and followed the woman into the building. She led him into a small sweet smelling room with five round tables surrounded by expensive looking cloth chairs. She pulled out a chair and he seated himself. She disappeared around a corner and minutes later returned with a plate heaped with everything he had dreamed of devouring the moment he stepped off the plane in Nevada. Steak, sweet, tender steak, sat steaming against a mound of buttery mashed potatoes and green beans. There was a saucer holding corn on the cob and two pieces of wheat bread. A bowl holding a helping of smoking chicken broth based stew of some sort rounded out the most perfect meal he’d ever seen. He didn’t even remember her leaving, all he knew was that she sat the plate down and then she was gone, and all he could see, all he cared about, was the food.

The room was empty when he came in, but he suddenly felt a presence other than his own in the room, and turned to see a thin woman come in and drop her purse on the table directly next to his before she disappeared into the same place the woman had brought his food from. He felt himself tense, not up to forcing conversation and answering questions about his uniform, about the blank and no doubt dazed look he was sporting as blatantly as his marine garb. He stood, primed to move far away, his tray of food in hand, and then she returned.

Her breasts. He couldn’t help it, it was the first thing he noticed, that and the way her skirt stopped way higher than he would’ve imagined a skirt in such a professional setting should’ve. She had the air of someone who worked in the hospital. He wondered about their dress code. She sat down without giving him a second glance. He sat down quickly, suddenly feeling foolish, an alien emotion to him. She didn’t seem to even notice him, so he relaxed a bit, picked up his spoon and continued to ladle the delicious brew into his mouth. He’d just finished the soup when her voice severed the silence of the room. It was high, feminine, and it made him ache all over. He caught a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, forcing slyness he didn’t think a man of his size could pull off.

She was on the phone, had it pressed against her ear with her shoulder while she rummaged through her massive purse for something she wasn’t finding. “It’s in my purse you fucking asshole. Here’s a tip, if you don’t really mean anything behind it, a fucking diamond ring don’t mean shit!” she said, this statement, laced in her soft, unthreatening voice sounded inviting, laughable almost, because Diesel knew she was trying to be sharp with whoever was on the other end. Something went wrong and the purse toppled from her lap, assorted items scattered everywhere, many of them landing beneath Diesel’s table. Diesel scooted out of his chair, watched out of the corner of her eye as she slammed her cell shut without saying goodbye and bent down to pick up her belongings. Diesel concentrated on picking up her things, made himself ignore the fact that her skirt was really, really too short. So short in fact that as she stooped to pick up her spill it betrayed the fact that she wasn’t wearing any underwear, and was a stickler for a well groomed pussy, as well, to Diesel’s arousal. And her blouse, it was way too tight, her large C’s, Diesel guessed that they were either 36 C’s or a small D, were stressing the fabric of the pink cotton shirt so much that he was sure that the fabric was going to tear and release them at any second.

“Thank you so much, I’m so clumsy sometimes.” She looked up at him, catching his blue eyes with her dark brown ones. Diesel could tell she was flustered, a hint of a blush could be detected beneath the dark brown of her skin. Her lips, perfectly shaped and shining with colorless gloss stretched into a smile, revealing pretty teeth, an almost undetectable gap between the front two. Diesel simply nodded, handed her her things. She dropped everything into her purse, then began to frantically search inside the purse again.

“Shit!” she cursed.

“What, still missing something?” he asked before he knew it. His voice deep and distinct, felt too big for the room.

“Yeah, well, no. Well, shit I, my fiancé, ex-fiancé’s ring. I need to find it.”

“Why you need it if he’s the ex?” Diesel wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. Sure, she was hot, but he was not a talker, especially to strangers.

“So I can throw it at his ass. Why else?” she laughed, Diesel felt a smile crack his stiff feeling face. They both stood, him having about a foot on her in height, she stared up at him, with an amused look on her face. “Where are you from, that accent is lovely.” He felt heat rise to his cheeks. He’d never heard the word lovely in relation to his accent. He thought he sounded as dirt poor and country as he actually was. Alabama born and bred, the accent only reminded him of why he had gone into the service in the first place. People like him didn’t have many other choices besides the military.

“I’m from Georgiana Alabama.” he said, sitting back down, turning away from her, suddenly feeling his chest constrict. He began to gnaw on a piece of steak, could feel her eyes on him.

“Well, thanks again. I guess the ring’s better off lost. That way he won’t get his money back and I won’t have to feel the weight of it in my purse.” She turned away, picked up her tray of untouched food and dropped it in the trash, then disappeared into the ladies room at the far side of the cafeteria. Diesel stood soon after, threw the few remnants of his meal he’d left behind into the trash, then shouldered his bag. He was just about to leave the cafeteria, walk back outside, say fuck the appointment, when he saw it out of the corner of his eye. Right beneath the trash receptacle.

He bent down, plucked the ring from of its hiding place. It was heavy, sickeningly ostentatious, a glinting trio of canary diamonds, a large one flanked by two smaller ones in a platinum setting. He dropped it into his pocket, feeling a little better knowing that he was about to get a pretty penny for the ring from the closest pawn shop he could find.

Outside the sun had dipped lower, but the heat hadn’t lessened. Diesel began his trek back to the car he had rented to get him home from the airport. He’d been as obedient as he was going to be for the day. They’d sent him home and required that he see a doctor before reporting back to the base the next morning. He was to have a signed doctor’s note and everything, just like he was ten trying to get excused from school.

“Sir?” his hand on the handle, he knew he should’ve just climbed inside, and sped away, go find a strip joint, at least see a naked woman if he wasn’t going to be able to touch or fuck one tonight. He thought fleetingly of the woman from the cafeteria, was surprised by the sudden blood rush to his dick. He turned to the voice, saw the orderly from before rushing toward him. “Sir, Dr. Attard is in, you’re gonna be late for your appointment if you don’t hurry.”

“Thanks ma’am but I think I’m gonna skip it. No offense but ain’t no doctor ever told me nothing good.” He opened the door to the sedan, tossed his bag inside, and almost got in himself before he felt the cold soft hand on his arm. He looked at her hand, her hand obscuring part of the U.S.M.C. tattoo on his bare forearm.

“Look, my son, he’s still there, he came back for a while, but they sent him back. Just a baby, only nineteen. But he saw Dr. Attard while he was here, before he went back, and it helped him a lot, and I don’t claim to know nothing’ about you, but I think it would help you also. You remind me of him. You guys had that same look in the eye after you came back from that horrible place.” She was quiet then, and Diesel felt something fluttering in his stomach. His eyes stung a bit, as if he might cry. He looked down at her. She was a small woman, with wispy grey hair, pale, pale skin and watery blue eyes. An air of warmth surrounded her. She resembled his grandmother, whom he’d lost while he’d been away.

Before he knew what was happening her hand was guiding him back into the building, and he was following her up a set of marble steps to a door adorned with Dr. Attard’s placard. She opened the door for him and he stepped inside, when he looked behind her she was gone. The receptionist’s desk was empty, occupied only by a sign up sheet filled with crossed out names. She sure goes through them fast, Diesel thought to himself. He’d broken out of whatever trance he’d been in and was about to skip out on the appointment for the second time when the receptionist came barreling in from behind him.

“You got an appointment?” she asked, seating herself at the desk.

“Uh, yeah.” he said, fishing the card out of his pocket and handing it to her.

“For 2:30, you’re just in time, she hates late patients and she ain’t in the best mood today.” the receptionist said, smirking. She then pressed a button on the nondescript black phone sitting on the corner of her desk. “your 2:30 is here Dr. Attard.”

“Send him in,” crackled a voice over the speaker, distorted by the static. The receptionist nodded at him, and he took a deep breath, shoved the door to the office open.

The hard on returned with a vengeance, she had his back to him, leaning over her desk doing something, but he recognized the small polyester skirt, the pink shirt. Her ass was just right, and he hadn’t noticed before, the seams of her thigh highs caressing the length of her long legs. He adjusted himself quickly in an attempt to mask his hard on.

“Have a seat. Mr. Olsen. Just cleaning some stuff up here.” she walked away from him, placed a thick file into a tall metal cabinet near the window. He examined the small office, caught a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror hung from a closed door on the left wall. His hair was still buzzed short, so blonde it appeared white. His biceps, much bigger now than when he left, also more tattooed, had a slight shine to them, he had sweat on the ride here and just now when he’d been trying to leave. His camouflage green tank hugged the planes of his sculpted chest like it was painted on. He was proud of his body, he had earned it, and it had helped him while he was there, better health and considerable bulk was the one good thing he’d gotten from serving. His chin had a slight dusting of stubble though, he needed to shave, and his twice broken nose seemed extra crooked to him today in the strange lighting of the room. His face looked different to him now anyway, bad lighting or not, his ice blue eyes a little harder, the scar near his right ear fresh and noticeable, but a welcome wound that reminded him that the maniac hadn’t killed him, or really got the jump on him.

“Oh my gosh, it’s you.” she said when she finally turned around. She looked pleased to see him, but then apprehension colored her features. “I acted so unprofessionally back there, you probably want to go running for the hills now that you know I’m your therapist.”

Diesel smiled slightly, took a seat in the wooden hard backed chair in front of her large Mahogany desk. He’d guessed wrong about the comfortable chairs part. This chair felt just like the ones he’d used in Iraq. “No, put me at ease really.” he stared hard at her, watched her seat herself before him, thought of her bare pussy being only inches from him. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had good, really, really good, satisfying sex. He couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been for her.

“Um, well, I guess I should apologize for how I acted at any rate.”

“Don’t,” Diesel said, waving her words away. “Let’s me know that you don’t think you’re perfect. Let me see you as a real person really. Makes me a little more comfortable, I guess. Plus, you’re beautiful, I’m sure you can get anyone to forgive you for anything.” Diesel wasn’t one to dole out compliments, but she was absolutely breathtaking. Her hair had been pinned up in the cafeteria, now it hung loose and thick about her face and shoulders. He wanted to pull it, preferably from behind. Her hands, holding a felt tipped pen were thin and delicate, the left ring finger had a ring of skin on it lighter than the rest. He thought of her ring in his pocket.

“Thank you, stop,” she said, blushing, cheesing like a teenaged girl. He wondered how old she was. She appeared young, maybe a year below or above his 25 years. “Well as you know I’m Dr. Attard. I understand you were referred to me from the Marine Corps. I read your file, you had a pretty bad attack while on duty in Iraq, is that what the scar is from?”

“How many of your patients want in your pants, do you think?” Diesel asked, evading the question, but also really wanting to know. “I mean, you wear an outfit like that, with legs and tits like that…” he knew what he said was inappropriate, but he couldn’t help himself, it’d been so long…

“That is not a welcome line of conversation Mr. Olsen. We’re here to talk about you, not me. What I wear is of no pertinence to what we are here to do, nor do you need to be entertained with descriptions of the actions of other patients.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s just that.” he leaned forward, “when I was helping you pick your stuff up down there, I saw that you weren’t wearing any panties, and I’ve been thinking about that ever since. And I got this hard on here,” he said, sitting back in his seat so she could see the considerable bulge it was making in his camo’s. “And I don’t know about your other patients, how they handle the hard-ons they get from seeing you sitting there all fine and shit, but me, I need relief. It’s been about seven months since I got some, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to deal with this without doing something about it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Should I call security?”

“You can’t take a compliment, Dr. Attard?”

“That sounded more like a threat than a compliment, and neither are welcome.” Dr. Attard began busying a thread on her sleeve. “Now we can talk about you, and your tour in Iraq, or this meeting is over.”

“Fine. You want to hear about Iraq, huh? You all do at some point or another. Well I’ll tell you about it. It was hell. I watched children blow themselves apart for their parents’ agendas, watched a colleague of mine hang himself because he couldn’t sleep without seeing images of all the blood and the death. I was sliced by some crazed extremist who I had to murder with my bare hands. Every night there’s gunfire, bombs going off all over. I saw more dead bodies than any person should ever see, and for a year I feared for my life every, single, moment that I attempted to live it. I haven’t touched a woman in months, I haven’t smelled, tasted, a woman’s sex in so long I feel like I’ve forgotten the joys of it, and I think to do so would bring me the only relief I can stomach right now. So sorry if seeing an attractive woman who for whatever reason ain’t wearing underwear makes me a little hot blooded. That what you wanted to hear, doc?”

“I forgot.” she said quietly, her voice low.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I got dressed this morning and fucking forgot my underwear, okay? And I’ve been so fucking busy and fucking fucked up the last week that I didn’t pick up my dry cleaning and this hootchie ass outfit was all I had in the closet. I’m not some sex crazed—sex addict.”

“Damn, I was hoping.” he said smiling. She smiled also, sat back in her chair.

“It’s been a while, huh?”

“Yup. What about you?”

“Longer than you would think.” she laughed. “My ex-fiancé is my ex-fiancé because I caught him in bed with a man, and then it all came to me, why he was willing to wait until marriage to have sex. He’s gay.” she laughed again, unhappily, and put her head in her hands. “Who needs the psychiatrist now?”

“Shit, I know.” He began to laugh, and she began to laugh, too. It went on for a comfortable minute before she stood, got up and locked the door to her office. Diesel liked where this was going, but didn’t want to jump the gun.

“You probably get so tired of that question, huh? The whole, ‘How was Iraq’ question.”

“You don’t even know.”

“Well, I think I do. I know marriage, it isn’t as serious a thing as Iraq, but you can’t imagine how tired I got of hearing people ask me when the wedding date was, when I didn’t even know.” she stood in front of him. “I’ve been with him for two years, he hasn’t touched me once, not the right way. And today, I feel like being, touched, caressed…”

“I don’t know how much gentle touching and caressing I’d be capable of. It’s been a while, I probably wouldn’t even last…”

“Just…come on before I change my mind.”

“Yes ma’am,” Diesel said, and instantly he was on his knees, shoving her skirt and thigh highs down so roughly she almost fell over. He buried his face in the folds of her sex, her wetness instant and christening his cheeks and chin as his tongue explored her, shoved itself inside her, tasted her. He moaned as he did so…it smelled so good, and he could feel her wavering on her feet as he became more feverish. He picked her up and dropped her into her plush leather chair unceremoniously before spreading her legs and suckling her, her clit a prisoner to his teeth and tongue, his spit, her come all over her thighs, coating his face.

“Shit, sorry about that but it was fucking Dianne. She literary raped me when we danced…” he said in her ear, almost blushing.

“Your girlfriend is one naughty girl,” Hilary chuckled dirtily. She did not pull away from Jay but put her hands on his upper arms feeling the light pressure of his cock on her belly. It was attracting her pussy like a magnet. Since he was wearing a short sleeved t-shirt, her palms were on his bare, muscular upper arms. Dianne gazed at them and even in the disco lights, she was aroused from the contrast in their skin tones. Jay gazed over at Dianne and Rob. He was seated and Diane was dancing in front of him.

Jay returned his full attention to the white MILF. He placed both hands around her waist and stroked her lightly. Hilary shivered. She liked the feel of his big hands around her. They were so strong, and she felt a desire to do whatever they wanted her to. She smiled at him shyly, His hands stroked up and down her back firmly. She started stroking his arms, tracing his bulging muscles. She liked feeling feeling his hot flesh under her palms. As he pulled her closer, she leaned into his muscular body, putting her tits on his chest and letting him carry her weight. She took a quick glance and was glad to see that her husband and Dianne were obstructed from view by the many dancers. Then she laid her head on his powerful chest, inhaling his Deo, mixed with a musky, male smell. She felt the heat of his body, and she purred. His hands were now roaming up and down her back and they felt so good. She closed her eyes and laid a hand on his chest and started stroking it, tracing his muscles.

The song ended and the next began. They remained on the dance floor Jay worked his hands down her back and stroked her hips. She rubbed her face into his chest like she wanted to burrow it in. cupped her cheeks. Dianne rubbed her face into his chest and he started stroking her cheeks.

“Dianne told me that you passed the test,” Jay suddenly said into her ear.

“Oh gosh, she told you,” Hilary gasped, blushing. Then she shrugged and chuckled, “I only managed five steps though.”

“2 steps is the minimum requirement,” he said. “Well done.” He surprised her by kissing her cheek. His thick lips sent electricity sizzling through her body. “Yunno, I love to look at that ass in the office…” he chuckled and she felt his deep voice vibrating through his chest.

Diane slid her arms around his waist and pressed her breasts into his powerful chest. He felt so manly, she liked feeling the heat of his body. He seemed to like her ass, because he was now literary cupping her cheeks. Hilary wriggled her hips closer, feeling his hard manhood. She was glad Dianne had gotten him hard. It thrilled her to feel his hard, man meat pressing along the length of her excited sex.

He started rolling his hips as he lightly stroked her butt making her move and roll it. The friction of his hard cock on her pussy was exquisite. Hilary thought that if he rubbed it any harder, she would cumm. Jay was going crazy, feeling the heat of her cunt through the clothes that separated them. She was definitely pushing it on him now. He glanced over at her husband and his girlfriend. She saw him.

“Can he see us?” she asked.

“No, he is looking at Dianne’s ass.”

“Good girl,” she giggled dirtily.

“Lets go around the corner though. I don’t want some white cracker going at me…” Jay chuckled and maneuvered them to a part of the floor that was obstructed from the bar.

With the heat and the movements of the multitude of dancers around them, Jay sank his fingers into her ass and pulled her cunt onto his cock. It was like everyone else ceased to exist for the two of them. Jay dipped his face to hers, and Hilary felt his thick, dark lips close around them, sucking them in. His lips were like big, soft wet cushions. Her senses reeled and she remained passive. Her heart was thudding. She couldn’t be doing this. She was a married woman, and her husband was just around the corner, a few meters away. But it felt so natural that Jay was kissing her whilst their bodies ground together. Even as she was trying to gather her thoughts, she realized that her body was responding, pressing hungrily against him as he ground his cock into her.

“Oh Jay, shouldn’t we stop this,” she moaned into his ear as he pulled back.

“You want me, don’t you?”

“Yes, but…”

She was cut off as his lips closed over hers again. He kissed her aggressively, possessively. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, then his tongue slid over hers, into her mouth. He shoved it, in feeling her mouth. His tongue slithered and rolled over hers, forcing it to dance. He felt the white woman shudder and moan into his mouth in sweet surrender. Then she was sucking and chewing on his tongue. As he sank his fingers into her ass cheeks and kneaded them like dough, her kisses became voracious

Hilary could not believe that she was dry humping a black man she hardly knew on the dance floor But there she was, doing it, rubbing her cunt on a black cock, right on the dance floor, and feeling the most exquisite sensations in her pussy, which were driving her insane with lust. She snaked an arm around his powerful neck and pulled him down to her face as she sucked on his thick lips and licked them greedily. He ground his cock harder and harder into her. She pushed herself up on her tip toes to get the pressure right where she needed it, on her excited, engorged clit.

“o-oo-o-o-o!!!” Hilary cried, sharp electrical currents ripping through her cunt. She parted her legs to press her sensitive clit harder into his cock. He ground his dick even harder into her. Whether or not by design, she didn’t know, but his big hand slid to wedge between her cheeks and it felt so exquisite as he stroked her crack firmly, like his hand belonged there.

Hilary felt an overwhelming lust that made her not give a damn where she was. There was an incensing heat in her loins. She snaked and hooked her leg around his, pressing her clit solidly against his cock ad grinding her hips with all her might.

“That’s a wonderful new form of Salsa there,” a guy with a strong Latin American accent said into their ears.

“Fuck off!” Hilary cussed and ignored him as he laughed and was dragged to his girlfriend, who pressed her cunt into his cock, making him forget about them instantly.

Jay yanked her lips back to his and reclaimed them devouring them. Hilary devoured his mouth right back and jammed her hand down his pants, grabbing his bare ass cheek and sinking her talons in it. His hand shoved her dress up and claimed her bare ass cheeks, cupping them both and squeezing. She humped his dick frenziedly, getting all these wonderful, maddening sensations in her clit. She was rushing closer and closer…

“Ah fuck, Hilary. I would never have guessed that you were such a hot, horny white bitch!” Jay gasped.

“Oh fuck yeah Jay! I am your bitch baby! Make me your nigger whore!!!” The words escaped her before she could stop them.

Then her pussy was exploding like a hand grenade, all over his dick, right on the dance floor It was like a hefty explosion ripped through her crotch. And millions of lights exploded in her head, threatening to knock her unconscious.

She held on to Jay, digging her fingers into his muscles as as she came hard on his cock. He continued dry humping her. She moaned sweetly, eyes jammed shut as her body shuddered and her hips kept on jerking violently.

They danced to another song, arms wrapped tightly around each other, as she recovered from her daze. One could have asked her,

“Who are you? Where are you?” and she would have responded,

“I don’t know and I don’t fucking care.”

Jay then led her back to the others. She kept her hand inside the back of his pants, grabbing on to his ass until they had almost cleared the dance floor

The four of them stayed at the bar, drinking. Dianne managed to drag Rob onto the dance floor, but he seemed to mostly stand still whilst she got her groove on and put it on him. Jay and Hilary leaned close to each other, watching, and laughing at how Dianne’s raw, sexy moves seemed to be making Rob nervous. It was like he wanted it, but could not take it. He kept glancing around at all the people around them, who didn’t give a fuck about him, no way.

“You have one hot girlfriend over there. Gosh, I feel guilty about what we did…” Hilary said in Jay’s ear, but she had no regret on her face. Her eyes were filled with lust as she gazed at the dark man.

“Don’t worry about Dianne. If she didn’t like you, you couldn’t even smile at me, yunno.”

“And you? Do you like me?”

He glanced quickly at Rob, who was looking the other way. He leaned in and kissed Hilary. “Does that answer you?”

“I really like you too.”

“And you haven’t seen me naked yet,” he laughed.

“Gosh, now I am scared.”

“Of the black snake or what?”

“Gosh, you are as raw as your girlfriend,” she laughed.

After several more drinks, Dianne dragged Hilary to the floor and danced with her. The young black woman took the mature white wife in her arms and gyrated her hips against hers, pushing them thick tits into hers. Hilary felt decidedly excited.

“By the way Hilary, thanks for earlier on. My nipples are still hard, feel that?”

“Of course.”

“Are the guys watching?”

“No, they are not.”

“Good!” so saying, Dianne squashed her lips into Hilary’s and gobbled them up in her big, soft lush ones. She chewed on them. Hilary felt woozy and moaned into her mouth. Dianne then gently penetrated her with her tongue. She explored her mouth, licking her gums and the insides of her cheeks, and then inviting her tongue to a dance. Hilary moaned and their tongues danced together in her mouth. The kiss seemed to last an eternity. Finally, Dianne pulled back, winked at her and continued dancing, like nothing had ever happened.

Later on, when they went to the rest room, Dianne pulled her into a stall. The black woman pushed the white woman against the wall, jammed her thigh between hers and kissed her again, aggressively She sucked her lips then her tongue into her mouth and sucked and slurped away. Then she invaded her with tongue and the y kissed deeply. Hilary found herself grinding her cunt against her thigh and kissing her back as she grabbed her big tits and squeezed them. They moaned and gasped away until someone started banging on the door.

“I need the bathroom you fucking dikes.”

They giggled and walked out.

As she sat besides her husband in the car, on the way back home, Hilary could not believe all the events that had taken place that evening.

She almost felt like she was in a movie, about someone else far removed from her. She could not believe that she had done such wild things.

Suddenly, she found herself regretting that her husband was around. Oh how she wished that he had been away on business when these two visited.

By the time they left, they were all plastered. Jay had acquired some dope at the club, so the four of them had several kick ass joints when they got home. Hilary and Rob then showed their guests to their room and retired into their bedroom. Hilary literary fell over Rob and they made hectic, wild, passionate love. Rob could not remember his wife being so daring and so horny. They fucked their brains out. As they finally lay back in bed, covered in sweat, they heard Dianne moaning sweetly from next door. The two young blacks seemed to go at it for an eternity. Hilary pretended to fall asleep in Rob’s arms, but she started wishing she was a fly on the wall in the black couple’s room, seeing them go at it. She could just imagine that fireworks were exploding. As she heard Dianne moaning and screaming frenziedly, seemingly having yet another orgasm, she felt so horny and so jealous. She wished she were laying in the next room, right between the two of them, getting it on with both of them. As she heard Rob snoring besides her, Hilary quietly reached between her thighs and hooked a finger over her clit. She frigged herself to a quiet orgasm. It wasn’t even difficult to do. All she had to do was fantasize about black meat. Jay’s thick cock, which had felt whilst dancing with him, or Dianne’s thick tits and even thicker butt cheeks. Mmmmm.

Chapter 3: Having Hilary

The following morning, Rob and Hilary had an altercation. The two of them had been invited to a pool side grill at the house of a close mate of his. Several hot shots from around town would be there. Rob wanted them to go without their visitors. Hilary said that was plain inhospitable.

“Well, come on, you know how folks around here are.”

“Come on, they are nice and friendly people…”

“All the same, you know how they are. This is like a closed function. People might not take kindly to them.”

“So what! They are just ignorant….” Hilary paused for a few seconds. “Like I was. But now I am glad I met them…”

“All the same…”

“If they don’t come, I wont either. I will stay with them and show them around town a bit.”

“No! We promised that we would both turn up. Don’t forget loads of influential people will be there. We gotta go there and make contacts…”

“Yeah right,” Hilary thought to herself. “You just wanna have me as the pretty bitch hanging on your elbow and smiling whilst you make contacts. And you don’t want them to think you associate with Niggers…” Though they had initially made the plan together, Hilary suddenly thought that was pretty fucked up. However, she didn’t voice her opinion.

Hilary and Rob had breakfast with their guests and then said they had to attend a work function, and the two blacks could take a swim and have anything they wanted in the house. Before they left, Jay got Hilary all alone and said to her,

“Well, maybe you can come back a bit earlier and hang out with us, and have some fun.”

Hilary started blushing profusely.

“I mean, only if you really want,” he finished, stroked her chin for a second and turned and walked away, in his confident gait.

Hilary shivered. She still couldn’t believe what she had been up to the previous night. But she felt no regret. She felt some embarrassment, shock and utter disbelief. But the overwhelming feelings were excitement and arousal. And this really scared her.

They left around mid day.

After hobnobbing with the familiar crowd for a while, Hilary was simply bored shit less. She had a foul taste in her mouth and kept knocking her drinks down till she was feeling tipsy. She felt like she was just fed up, and didn’t know why.

She made an excuse that her head was aching and returned home. Rob didn’t mind, he was sucking up to their boss big time. Hilary kissed him bye and watched him rush to grab glasses of wine for the boss and his wife, who had superfluous, high pitched laugh that she just couldn’t stand. She called a taxi and rode back home, feeling excited.

Hilary paid the cab and walked into the house. Jay and Dianne were nowhere in sight. She heard them splashing around at the pool. She removed her shoes and walked to the pool area. It was surrounded by a tall hedge which shielded it from view. Hilary decided to tip toe to the hedge and peek in.

She was shocked to see Jay laying on a deck chair, naked, as Dianne swam in the pool, also butt naked. The black woman looked like a dark fish moving smoothly through the water, hardly raising a wave.

Hilary watched her as the young, black woman climbed out of the pool, water cascading off her dark, fabulous body as she took the steps. The white woman’s eyes were glued to the dark, bald pussy between the juicy, silky thighs. Dianne was shaved clean and she had a thick, fat mound. Hilary felt excited.

Dianne stood over Jay, who gazed lustfully at his girlfriend as she toweled herself.

Jay’s thighs were pressed together, hiding his cock. His pubes were shaved smooth, and looked satiny.

“What’s up, Mamacita?” he greeted his girlfriend in his deep, dark voice, a lecherous smile cracking his dark features.

“Where is the dick at, Nigga?” she answered in a thick, horny, honey laced voice.

“Where’s the pussy at?”

Dianne sat down on the deck chair next to his and slowly let her thighs fall apart. Jay and the eavesdropping white wife found themselves looking into her shaved pussy. Her mound was silky, a shade darker than the rest of her body. Her pussy lips were even darker, and they were long, hanging like the lips of a purse. Dianne had been told by her Grandma to pull them when she was still a lil kid. That was great advice too, coz she had discovered that men loved to see her lil purse swallow up their cocks. And they loved the way they wrapped around their dicks, looking like flaps. Gazing at them dark lips, plus catching a peek of the pink-reddish gash they guarded, Hilary’s mouth watered.

“Now, show me your black snake, Nigga!” Dianne teased.

Jay slowly parted his thighs. His dick was a sharp, sexy contrast to the white towel on which he was lying. It was uncut, fat, long and had a thick, round head. It wasn’t 12″ long and fat like a cola bottle, but both women watching were not at all disappointed In fact, Hilary felt the heat rush to her chicks. She had never imagined that it could be so exciting to look at a black cock.

As Dianne gazed at the African cock with her lust filled eyes, it seemed to twitch with a life of its own. Jay’s brow knitted slightly with concentration and his dick rose several inches in the air, and then he let it slowly descend to the towel.

“Yeah, Jay. That’s talent right there,” Dianne laughed. “bet you’re thinking of that white ho, ain’t ya!”

“Fuck off, bitch. You the one that was really cumming on to her last night. Bet if we hadn’t been there, you’d have been eating that white pussy till daylight.”

“Hell fucking yeah. But don’t try to change the subject here. You wanna fuck her, dontcha?”

“Dontcha?”

“Of course, I do…” Dianne laughed dirtily. “Roll a motherfucking joint.”

As Jay started rolling a joint whilst Dianne mixed them new drinks, Hilary sneaked away quietly. She went back into the house, feeling hot around the neck, cheeks and chest. On one hand she was shocked about the explicit conversation she had just heard. However, it flattered her and thrilled her to know that the two sexy young blacks had the hots for her. The fact that they obviously thought her husband was a dick didn’t even bother her. In fact, it pleased her.

“fuck that jerk!” she sneered as she dropped her clothes. Hilary was feeling adventurous and excited like never before. She dropped her clothes and took out a tiny, thong bikini. It was white. However, when it got wet, it became almost completely transparent. She only ever wore it when she was alone at home. Indeed, she even blushed as she slid the tiny thongs up her thighs and felt the gusset ease over her shaved cunt.

She slid into high heeled slippers, knocked down a couple of shots for courage and then made her way to the pool, carrying a glass and bottles of Martini and lemon.

She walked onto the pool area. Jay and Dianne looked up at her. They were surprised, but caught themselves quickly. They were fast on their feet. They made no move to hide their nakedness. They simply smiled at her and greeted her warmly. Hilary made an effort not to look at their genitals as she returned their greetings.

“Hi baby,” Dianne said, patting a spot next to her on the deck chair. “We decided to skinny dip, hope you don’t mind. I mean, we are all grown folks. Baby, that outfit is hot, turn around with it girl…”

Hilary blushed, but she turned around. She heard Jay gasp and Dianne smacked her ass and pulled her onto the chair next to her.

They chatted as they drank and smoked weed. The naked black couple were so nonchalant about their nakedness that Hilary almost overlooked it. But she couldn’t stop stealing glances at their bodies. She also noticed them gazing at her body, only they didn’t bother to hide it. As the weed and the alcohol got her so high, Hilary felt excited and horny. She found herself hoping that her husband would take his time getting back home.