Ways to Please Your Lover

A Rhetorical Question

"

... Was it

," she wondered, watching him - in the full length mirror - undress her. "

.. the hardest white cock she had ever seen; or, the whitest hard cock she had ever seen."

Her grandmother had told her, "Don't be foolin' round with no white boys. ... They lie to you, say they gone do this, gone do that. Say you special, say you ain't jus' some nigger gal; not jus' they want some black pussy."

She, her grandmother, had first lectured her some number of years earlier, just before she went off to college: her using more

church lady

language, not mentioning

nigger gals

and

pussies

that first time.

"Howard, grandma," she had said. "Goin' to Howard. Ain't many white boys there."

The admonition was repeated four years later.

She didn't mention the Wisconsin senator's son, ( t

hem both being in

Washington ) the one who had often lain between her spread thighs on winter Sunday afternoons, she propped against the head board, sipping red wine, her fingers tangled in his blond hair; him sipping on her pussy. There was no future in telling her grandmother.

"Where you goin'" she was asked. "Off up north somewhere?"

"Harvard Law School, grandma. ... Boston."

"Be a lot of white boys there. Rich white boys. Ain't never seen no pretty black girl; ain't never had no black pussy." The words were not so

church lady

like this time. "Them wantin' to try you on for size."

Boston, Harvard Yard, was filled with excited, exciting white boys. Italian, Irish, American heart-land boys (men), foreign students --- Argentines, British, Estonians, Greeks. Some rich, all extremely bright. They took her skiing: she lay on fur rugs, flame-light from the open fire places illuminating her chocolate skin. They took her sailing, kept her naked, sometimes the whole weekend. A recently divorced professor had her as escort to St. Martin: the casinos, the nude beaches.

The real

sit down -- girl, you an' me need to talk -- c

ame, however, her packing to start her first real job: Supreme Court law clerk.

"Don't be foolin' round with no white boys. ... They lie to you, say they gone do this, gone do that. Say you special, say you ain't jus' some nigger gal; not jus' they want some black pussy."

"Grandmother," she said, an acquired almost Boston accent, "next birthday, I'm twenty-five. Trust me."

"Uh!," the reply came, "think you somethin', fancy talkin', Harvard Law. You stay away from them white boys, they smallish cocks."

**_**

An Early Morning Fuck ..

Jimmy Reed came out of the speakers, pounding, rhythmic Delta Blues ...

You got me runnin', got me hidin'

You got me run, hide, hide run ...

Levi fucked her to the pulsating beat ...

I'm goin' up, I'm goin' down

Goin' up, down, down, up ...

Lethia mouthed, moaned the words ...

You got me doin' what you want me

Ah, baby, any way you want me ...

She dug her heels into the small of his back, pushed her pussy tight against him.

The music changed. Cool jazz filled the room: Dave Brubeck,

Take Five

...

He rolled her over; never losing contact - the hardness of his cock filling her all the while; his hands covering her tits, squeezing - pinching her nipples.

The base and piano establishing a background.

Saxophone blowing pure sex out into the air ...

"Play with yourself," Levi told her. "While you ride me - play with yourself. ... I want to watch."

She, Lethia, moved a hand, her fingers, to where their two bodies met. He watched her move up and down on his hardness, watched her finger move in her wetness.

**_**

CHOCOLATE AND RED WINE

He watched her work on the icing. The cake itself was finished. A birthday for her favorite nephew. He liked to watch her work; smooth, flowing motion ... easy grace in her movements. An athlete, even in the kitchen.

Music came from the system, a real mix of styles: acoustic banjo, early-early rock and roll, jazz vocals ... mostly females ... Billie Holiday ... Diana Krall ... Nina Simon, Guy Clark folk songs, classic Frank Sinatra, Jimmy Reed blues ... a CD she had put together.

The controls were in an antique French wardrobe, its doors open, full mirrors on the insides of the doors. He was reading

A Painted House

, the newest Grisham book. He looked up from time to time, into the mirrors, watched the smooth motion of her working.

She put the tip of a finger into the icing, put the finger to her mouth, checking the taste, the consistency. "I'll have some of that," he said.

"Some of what?" She looked at him in the glass, put the finger back to her mouth.

"Why; chocolate icing, of course. What did you think?"

"With you, one never knows."

"Ah," he said, taking a sip of red wine, putting Grisham down. "You wouldn't be being mischievous now would you?"

"Want some icing?" she watched him In the mirror. His back was to her.

"Some icing would be good."

He felt the tightness come into his lower stomach; felt the heat flow to his crotch.

She undid the top two buttons of her blouse. She did not wear a bra. He watched her reach the finger into the mixing bowl, come out covered with chocolate. She dabbed the icing onto her uncovered nipple; she stared into his eyes, did not look away.

"Want some icing?"

"Some icing would be good."

"Well, what the hell are you doing way over there?"

He circled the room, came to her. She licked the remaining chocolate from her finger. He bent to her breast, took the nipple between his teeth, worked his tongue, licking the sweetness from her. He sipped the red wine, put his thumb into the glass, put it into her mouth, felt her suck his thumb.

"Bring the bowl," he said.

"Where are we going?"

"Away."

He put arm around her shoulder, the other under her hips, lifted her and started across the room. She grabbed the mixing bowl.

With his foot he swept away the magazines, books, photographs from the long, low coffee table. He lowered her to the smooth, cool marble tabletop.

"My, my," she said, "whatever does this mean?"

"Some of your other parts need a little chocolate, maybe a little red wine."

"My, my," she said, started to unbutton more buttons.

He stopped her. "I'll do that part. I like to do that part. You just watch."

"I know."

He ran his hand, his thumb, into the legs of her shorts; the fingers and thumb meeting at the top, clutching the entire crotch of her shorts. He hooked the forefinger Into the waistband, holding the whole front of her shorts tight .

Her eyes wide, she looked at him; shifted her eyes, found herself, him, in the mirror. She watched him lift her ass off the table.

"Ah," he said, "a little red wine."

He tilted the glass, poured the wine onto her middle, Into her belly button.

He lowered his mouth, sucked the wine from her, licked the tailings that had run down her sides, down her belly Into the bunched up shorts. He opened the front of her shirt, spread the halves, uncovered he r breast.

"Well! This nipple has been neglected. What does it need?"

"Both!" she said, "It definitely needs both!"

"Both!" he said In mock horror. "My, we are a wicked girl!"

"The wickedest!" she said.

She watched him smear the dark sweetness onto her nipple, tweak it between his thumb and forefinger , lick the chocolate from his fingers. He poured a drop from his glass onto the icing, hen a jigger full into the valley between her breast. It ran down onto her belly, down her sides, onto the marble top.

"Ah ...ah! You heartless bastard!"

He licked the flowing wine from her.

She ran a finger into the mixing bowl, covering it with the rich, dark sweetness. She ran the finger under her shorts and panties, down either side of her pubic mound, between the hair line and the beginnings of her legs. He pulled her shorts and panties down to the bottom of her round, not yet uncovering her pussy. His tongue moved in long, strong strokes along the creases she had just covered. She watched herself arch her hips upward, toward his mouth.

"Let's have some more of that down here," he said.

She watched him pull his mouth away for the spot at the top of her leg, mouth the words, resume his licking.

"Well, now; just where would you like it?"

"Pick a spot."

She pushed her shorts down in the back, pulled her knees up to her chest, smeared a dollop of chocolate on the very bottom tip of each cheek. With open mouthed anticipation she watched him shift his body to get to the right spot.

"Ou - ou ... ou — ah -hh!"

He opened his mouth wide ... he always did this to her ass, took in a whole mouthful of her bottom. He worked his mouth and tongue over her. " I always thought you had a sweet ass," he said, coming up for air.

"And you're just a smart ass! Biting me like that!"

"And you are a saucy little wench!" he said. "Turn over."

He pulled her shorts, her panties, past her knees and off her feet. He ran a chocolate covered finger up the crease between her buttocks, poured drops of wine into the hollow, the small of her back. "Now," he said, "chocolate and red wine."

She watched him, through the mirror, run his tongue up the crease, then suck up the wine. She watched him unbuckle his belt , step out of his jeans and boxers in a long smooth motion; watched him cover the head of his cock with icing, pour on a drop of wine.

"Oh! We want our turn do we?"

"Fair Is fair."

He knelt in front of her, his cock at table top level. She took the shaft In her hand, wrapped her fingers around it; took the chocolate covered head into her mouth, tasted the mix of chocolate, wine, and pre-cum. She felt him, watched him, put a finger deep into her pussy, watched him dip it into the icing, watched him put it into his mouth, lick off the mix of taste.

"Race you upstairs," he said.

"No," she answered. "I want to do it here. In the mirrors."

"You are a wicked wench!"

"The wickedest!"

He sat on the ottoman. She sat on him, on his cock; facing him, facing the mirror. Diana sang:

I may say no-no-no; but

Oh! do it again.

No one Is near; no one can hear,

so oh-oh-oh, do It again!

She moved herself on him. She watched herself, in the twin mirrors. She laughed out loud.

"Oh, you are a hard cock, My hard cock; just a chocolate, red wine hard cock!"

**_**

Pussy By The Pair

The boy with the blue eyes had a pussy in each hand almost before the door closed behind them; left hand inside the red head's jeans, right hand underneath the brunet's skirt. Two already hot, wet pussies.

They pushed their asses against him, penned him back against the now shut door; rolled their sweet eager young asses against his tree-trunk hard thighs.

" ... he's so hard! ...." the red head said.

" ... so hard! ... his cock so hard! ..." the girl with the black hair agreed.

" ... you found his cock already? ..." the red head sounded, distressed ... that she had only his leg to roll her ass against, not his already hard cock.

She, the red head, shucked her jeans; the boy with the blue eyes all the while squeezing her pulsing pussy with his left hand. " ... why ever did I wear these panties?!..." she asked, rhetorically.

" ... I didn't ..." the burnet told no one in particular; " ... didn't wear any panties. ..." She rolled her already dripping pussy against the firm, strong hand ... the long fingers.

They drugged him, practically, to the center of the room ... eschewing the sofa, the inviting bedroom; sank, all of them, to the floor. They attacked his clothes: buttons did not survive the un-doing, jeans came off half wrong-side-out, kicked away onto the carpeted floor.

" ... he has a tent pole! ..." one girl pointed out, open mouthed.

They reached, without planning to, at the same time, caught the snapped together front of his short, ripped, cloth and all. " ... a circus tent! ..." the other girl pointed out; covered her mouth with four fingers.

They reached, without planning to, at the same time, caught the still springing-free tent pole of a cock; the girl with the red hair grasped the base of the shaft, the black haired caught the ...well, the top of the shaft. Vermilion head protruding beyond their combined fingers. ... ... " ... oh, my! ..." they said, collectively; licked their collective lips.

They descended, their mouths did, to where their fingers held captive the circus tent pole of a cock. Their tongues flicked out, licked the vermilion head, the crystal drops that emanated from the tip. ... ... " ... oh, my! ..." they said.

" ... oh, shit! ... mother-fucker! ..." the boy with the blue eyes said; thrust his hips upward, fucked the warm, wet and wonderful space between their collectively lips. He held a pussy in each hand; squeezed the warm pliant flesh ... inserted a long strong middle finger deep into wetness thereof.

" ... oh, my! ..." the red haired girl said, " ... he has a finger in my cunt! ..." she wiggled her ass in time to his stroking finger; squeezed her legs tight around his hand.

" ... cunt. ... pussy; whatever! ..." the dark skinned girl said. " ... he sure got his finger in mine! ..." she covered his hand with her own; held him tight there, least he decide to remove his hand from her pussy.

" ... you fuck 'im ..." the first girl said. " ... I had 'im this mornin'..." She watched the burnet lift herself up, position her already gaping lips over the twitching rod; watcher her friend slowly lower herself onto it, watched it disappear inside the girl.

" ... I bet he licks pussy good ..." the second girl said, settling herself down onto the blue-eyed boys hips; she touched her clit with a finger; felt the electric shock travel up to her tits, beyond.

" ... oh! He may be the best ..." the girl with the red pussy hair said. " ... the best I know of ... best tongue I know of! ..."

The blue eyed boy watched the red headed pussy turn his way, watched it move closer, closer ...cover his mouth; smelled the smell, tasted the taste.

The Cherokee girl reached around her friend, caught the cream colored bouncing tits in brown hands ... tweaked the rosebud nipples. She rode the hard cock beneath her. The Irish girl leaned back, her hands on her own legs for support; her back and shoulders against the other girl's boobs, her legs on either side of he boy's face ... her pussy firmly planted onto his mouth, his tongue.

The boy with the blond hair and blue eyes had never been so well used, abused ... he thought. He grasped the left leg of one girl with one hand, he wasn't sure which ... which girl. The right leg of the other girl; listened to the pounding music of Lynard Skynard . And, to think, it had all started with both hands full of pussy! he thought.