Debra's Dilemna: Part Two
Knock, knock, knock.
"Just a minute!" Debra yells from the bedroom. She's thoroughly agitated because she has no doubt in her mind that it's her mother in law, Marie at the door. "The old bitch coming back to take a second shot at me for wearing that miniskirt to the PTA meeting. Well, I'll give her something to talk about." Debra peels off her bra and moist panties and smiles at the reason her panties are dripping wet – an eight inch purple vibrator glistening with Debra's pleasure.
Debra grins ear to ear as she thinks to herself, "Boy, I wonder what my busy body Mother in Law would do if she knew who I was thinking about when I had this in me?" Just moments earlier, Debra had surprised even herself with an explicit fantasy about her father in law and his (hopefully) thirteen inch cock in her mouth, pussy and probably more if the door weren't knocking right now. Debra stuffs her tight little baked MILF bod into a terry cloth white robe and heads to the door. She takes a moment to check the mirror and push up her cleavage to epic proportions.
As she ambles down the stairs, Debra imagines the door opening and a horrified Marie gasping in shock and clutching her chest. Unfortunately for Debra, she knows all too well that the clutching the chest move is 100 percent pure drama and not a real heart attack. "Bitch will probably outlive me." Debra mutters to herself as she pulls the door handle wide open. Her eyes go wide and her tiny lips form an "o" as she says...
"Oh." Is all Debra can come up with as she stares at the two black men on her front porch for about six awkward seconds. "I'm sorry, you freaked me out."
"Don't worry, we have that effect on white people." The shorter of the two men responds.
Debra notices that although he's only about 5'10, he's built like a offensive lineman – "whatever that is", she thinks to herself.
"Especially in this neighborhood." The man continues in a charming manner.
"Oh thank God. He has a sense of humor. Good, this isn't too awkward." Debra thinks to herself.
"And, we especially have that effect on white women in this neighborhood." The taller black man chimes in with a wide smile. He makes it clear that he's very cool with the tiny, wet housewife with the ample cleavage. He somehow finds a way to maintain eye contact and completely ogle her tits at the same time.
Debra finds herself laughing nervously. "And, is this a normal day for you? Standing in the doorway of a half naked housewife?" Debra musters up the pluck to sound pretty confident.
"If you don't mind, who are we to argue?" The shorter man answered. "I'm Jamal, and this is Terry. We play ball with your husband."
"Aw, that's too bad. I thought you two were here to take care of a little heavy lifting I needed oh so badly..." Debra traces her finger along her pouty lips as she says this.
"Uh..." Is all the two men can say.
"Oh come on, I know who you are. You think I'd be still standing here if I didn't? I mean, you're both cute, but I'm not stupid."
"Damn, girl. You had me going for a second there." Said Jamal.
"Man, you know how to play the playa's, little sister!" Said Terry as he raised his hand to high-five her.
She giggled as she high fived them both, proud of herself for being so cool in this situation. But, why wouldn't she? After all, she may be a white girl from New Jersey, but it wasn't like she didn't have any experience dealing with "the brothers." She after all, used to work as the Public Relations Executive for the NJ Nets. During that time, she had plenty of African American men. She was used to the way they used to flirt. She believed from firsthand experience that black men were more aggressive than white men on the team. It's just the way it is; they're flirts – especially with white women. And, Debra thought to herself that she would be lying if she didn't love the attention. She remembered making sure to wear shorter skirts and tighter sweaters on the days that the team was in town. There was one player, a power forward named Reggie who especially appreciated Debra's "outfits." She remembered that he used to call her "Little Debbie Dynamite. They had this little game they used to play. She would walk by practice and Reggie would say, "Man Debbie, you look dynamite in that top – but..."
"But what?" She used to ask, knowing the answer every time.
"But, it's a little tight, is there any way I can talk you out of it?" Reggie as always, would snap back.
"Not today, but keep trying." Debra would always respond as she walked away, grinning so hard her cheeks would hurt. Back then, she was engaged to Raymond. And sure, she was playing with fire – encouraging the six foot nine inch ball player that he might have a chance with her. But, Debra used to write it off as "team spirit."
"So, where is it?" Jamal asked. 'Mrs Barone?"
Debra looked at Jamal, still slightly confused by the memory buzzing around in her head.
"You know? ...The basketball? Ray said he left it here and we could pick it up."
"Oh, sorry!" Said Debra as she snapped out of her daydream. "I was having some kind of a déjà vu flashback."
"Well, you know what they say about flashbacks..." Jamal said.
Debra looked at him and shrugged with an unknowing smile.
"Once you have flashback – you never go back."
Jamal and the other man waited until finally, Debra got the joke and erupted into giggles. She put her hands to her cheeks and laughed as she playfully warned... "that's so bad." As she pressed her arms together it only amplified the deep, voluminous cleavage. Her tits shimmered and jiggled as she rocked back and forth until she was only chuckling nervously. "Well, it's in the basement. Follow me."
"Anytime." Jamal responded with a grin as he and Terry followed her into the living room. They made small talk as they went into the basement.
"I'm telling you, Ray would forget his head if it weren't attached."
"Too bad for him. If I had a wife as fine as you, I'd never forget my head."
Debra looked at him for a second and then as she got the joke – she broke up. "Oh! Oh, you! You're soooo bad." Debra found herself pressing her hand against his chest. And although it was meant to signal him to take it down a notch, she couldn't help but let her hand linger on his finely sculpted pecs. She felt flush as she pressed her hand against his rock hard chest and traced it down his six pack before she broke contact. He was so tightly cut, it had been so long since she felt a man like that. "Just awful you. You are such a bad boy aren't' you?"
"Bad to the bone." Jamal responded.
"I bet." Debra shot back. "Well, here's your ball." Debra said as she handed the basket ball to Jamal. "It feels like it might need some air. I hate it when balls aren't firm."
"Yeah, that's a crime." Jamal said as he sized up the housewife in the bathrobe in the basement.
"Here's a pump. You want me to pump this ball up for you boys?" She giggled at the joke. Only realizing after she made it that things might be going too far too fast.
"Yeah, let's see how you pump up some balls, baby." With that, Jamal slid down his zipper.
