Summary:
Author learns her racist beliefs are very, very wrong.
Note 1:
Thanks to Jedd for the idea and the detailed outline... this story is as much his writing as mine.
Note 2:
Thanks to Robert, goamz86, and Wayne for editing.
Warning:
This story is about a racist white woman who is turned into a slut for Indian cock and cunt. If this offends you please don't read further.
Jasmine Fantasies: Going Native
JASMINE WALKER
Jasmine Walker awoke slightly groggy from the night before.
There had been quite a bit of wine involved at her friend's 40
th
birthday party, and while not exactly hung over, she was not feeling great either and it definitely was a mistake to get that wild... the night before a lengthy drive.
Jasmine was a sought after educational speaker and had a conference she was headlining in Ottawa, the capital of Canada... her native homeland.
She could have flown, like she usually does, but it was spring, the snow was finally gone, her husband was away on one of his two week long work trips, it was a May long weekend and she figured she might as well take her time and enjoy the country she just never seemed to get to see. She took off two extra days with her EDO's and headed out for a long drive... her iPod full of blues songs she had downloaded off iTunes.
The conference started on Monday and with Friday off, she could meander her way through the province, making stops wherever she wanted... like surprising her sister-in-law in Toronto. She even planned to take some of the back roads to enjoy the scenery and just get away from the intensity of city life and the school grind. She taught high school English and this was decidedly not the best semester of kids she had ever taught.
As the alarm beeped, she rolled over and slammed the snooze button. Why the hell was she getting up at five in the morning? Of course, she had had no intentions of not getting to bed until 2am... but seeing old friends was a blast and the time flew by (like it always seems to).
When she opened her eyes next it was nine. She jolted up. What the hell happened? Why didn't the snooze work? She quickly jumped into the shower and allowed the warm water to wash her cares away. As she moved the shower head down to wash her legs, she gave herself a spray in her neglected pussy. She hadn't seen Mike in a week and wouldn't for another week. Two weeks without cock was a mighty long time... and she had also forgotten her sex toys that she always brought with her (a suction cup wall cock, a we-vibe, a magic wand and a rabbit vibrator were all toys that rotated being her fuck toy for the night; she also had a vibrating butt plug for the rare times she wanted it in the ass).
Although no one knew this, Jasmine was actually silkstockingslover, a prolific erotic writer on a website called Literotica. She had over 200 stories published in a variety of genres. No one would suspect this from a no-nonsense teacher, this world renowned speaker (she had spoken in dozens of Canadian cities, another twenty in America and had done one European tour), mother of two (the kids were staying with their grandparents for the weekend) and loving wife. She also was a submissive to her husband, something else no one would believe.
She considered getting herself off with the shower head, but realized she needed to get on the road. She washed her body, shampooed her hair and shaved... all of it. She was of the mindset that hair on a woman only belonged on her head and nowhere else (something her husband and her much more dominant previous boyfriend had entrenched in her psyche long ago)
Once she had finished ridding herself of the pesky hair, she moved her hand up and down her smooth snatch, always liking the feeling. This got her horny and she figured a few more minutes wasn't going to hurt anyone... this was, of course, her road trip.
Jasmine moved her left hand between her legs, while moving her right up to her breasts. They were 34B and although not jugs by any means, her husband liked them and the right push-up bra made them look much bigger than they really were (and all her bras were push-up bras).
Her nipples were extremely sensitive, as if they were directly wired to her clit. She slowly stroked her middle finger up and down her slit, waiting for her juices to provide lubrication for entry. She didn't wait long as she could feel the moisture growing within her, enabling her to penetrate herself.
As she pumped one, then two fingers inside her box, she tweaked her nipples with her right hand. One, then the other, she pulled and rolled the nubs. For medium sized breasts, her nipples sure seemed big in proportion. They were larger than a dime, and stiffened with the slightest of contact (one of the reasons she always wore a bra... and, of course, the push-up bras flattered her chest area).
Continuing to tweak the hard eraser tips, she stroked the two fingers inside her now sopping cunt. She found the little pad there, and rubbed briskly. She was tweaking her nipples harder now, as she reached for the shower head and brought it to her burning box. Her breathing was getting faster as her orgasm began to rise. Doing it standing up in the shower made it take way longer.
She had begun grinding herself on the shower head, when her cell rang.
'Fuck' she sighed to herself.
She considered ignoring it, but it could be important (her husband, or kids, or agent). 'I really should get ring tones for the important people in my life', she thought to herself as she got out of the shower to grab her phone, dripping wet in more ways than one.
PIPER WHITEDOVE
Piper Whitedove entered the door without locking it behind her. It was just after five a.m. and the store wouldn't open for nearly two hours. She didn't have anything to fear from any of the people on the reservation though. As for any travelers who might want to do her harm, or steal from her business, Piper was well prepared. She carried her pistol with her, had her knife strapped to her calf, and kept a shotgun behind the counter. Not to mention her sister, who while not always at the top of Piper's list, was fiercely loyal to her, Uncle Joe who was not to be messed with without consequences, and a wealth of community members who owed a debt of gratitude to her family (not that this was a violent area, it's just she was raised to always be prepared).
Her family was well respected and helped many of the tribe members still here. Quite a few had left the rez to strive for a better living in the outside world. But Piper stuck it out, running this general store even after her parents had returned to Oklahoma. Her father, 1/4Cherokee, and her mother, 1/2 Choctaw, were originally from Oklahoma. Piper and Peyton had both been born there actually, but moved at a young age to Quebec when their parents had bought into a casino on the reservation there. They were really too young to notice at the time, but as they grew older, wondered, why in the hell Quebec? And while they were at it, why the hell did they name their children Piper and Peyton? I mean, they weren't all into the back to native thing, and weren't for naming their kids Running Elk and Happy Coyote, or some such shit, but they were kind of proud of their heritage. Where did they get the idea of some preppy pretentious names like that?
Piper could only chalk it up to something besides tobacco in their peace pipes. And if the names weren't enough, weren't there any other reservations in Canada? They had little in common with the Indians in Quebec. Contrary to the thinking of many white people, there was a vast difference in North America's tribes. Her family had lived in Oklahoma for many generations, although historically they were from the southeast part of the country. So south to north, it was quite a difference in their traditions. Hell, it could have even been western Canada, where besides the original tribes, there were remnants of the Lakota and Cheyenne, closer to her origins. Still, this was only as she had grown and discovered a bit of her history. Really these people now were who she had grown up around, and because of the generosity of her parents, they felt a sense of kinship, and looked after the girls. Then ironically, on a trip to the states, her parents had won the lottery $23 million dollars. After taxes.
While the casino in Quebec was an investment, and a profitable one, her parents had always longed for Oklahoma. The girls did not, having spent the better part of their lives on the Rez. So, when the time came, Mom and Dad moved back to Oklahoma, and Piper and Peyton stayed put. They now owned the store outright, and it was quite profitable. They also had the portion of the winnings their parents had left, which was several million. She didn't have to work here, but she enjoyed it. She loved the people here, despite the tribal differences. She loved seeing new people stop in on their travels, as many stopped at her store and stayed at her motel while spending money in her casino. And an unfortunate few even had to have automotive work done in the shop she had set up for Uncle Joe. In the end, Piper and Peyton ran the Rez.
So life was pretty good. There were certainly no financial problems, she met interesting and varied people, and she was well respected and loved in her community, which she, in turn, loved to invest back in... giving more back to the community than the federal government ever did (but treaty rights and a lack of respect by white government is a story for another time).
Piper's sex life was another matter though. She supposed it was her own fault. While she widened her playing field by being thoroughly bisexual, she diminished it by being the domme she was. Oh, she wasn't into latex and whips; that just seemed silly to her.
But she was completely in charge in the bedroom. Or kitchen. Or back of the store. Wherever the mood struck her. However, that didn't fly too well on the rez. There were only two lovely young dark skinned beauties willing to fall to their knees at her command and although she enjoyed each of them and their eagerness to please... she got bored easily.
And forget about the men. Not a single one, when they discovered her dominant persona, was willing to submit.