This story is about two women of Scandinavian ancestry, in their late twenties experiencing activities that they had not anticipated at the beginning of their quest for some fun and excitement.
In Minnesota, when the winter weather breaks we look forward to getting outdoors as much as we can. We play in softball leagues, tennis and sandlot volleyball.
My cousin Jean and I both like softball and volleyball. This year we signed on to a volleyball team, sponsored by a local neighborhood establishment. I.E. Bar, pub, tavern, watering hole, meat market
Most of you are probably aware of the fact that there are many Scandinavians living in the upper mid-west. Therefore, we have the height, the blond hair, the blue eyes and all the attributes associated with most Scandinavians. It seems the shorter the girl the bustier she is and the taller she is, the less busty. There are exceptions though. My cousin and I are about five foot seven inches and we both weigh about 120 pounds. Here we hear a lot of, "Take a look at that lean and mean f...king machine."
A local bar that we patronize a lot sponsors the team. The team moves between ten bars and this is our league. We play once a week, at a different bars on Thursdays after work. The bar also sponsors two more teams and they play Tuesday and Wednesday. At season end the bar teams play to determine the bar championship and the two teams wins in the league with highest of the season, play to determine league champ.
My cousin Jean and I were at a volleyball game on a hot, 85-degree day (for us hot), on a Thursday, late afternoon, early evening. Most of the times we have bikini style tops (skimpy) and shorts of which some are very short, with lots of cheek showing when the weather is so hot. The clothing makes the game more interesting for the spectators.
Many of the spectators are guys of course but many girls are there also with their girl friends or boy friends.
About half way through the game, on this particular day, at a point of substation, I returned to my table to wipe the sweat, grab a sip of liquid replenishment and noticed two extra drinks placed next to mine. I noticed the same happened at Jean's spot at the table. I asked the waitress where did the drinks come from and she shrugged her shoulders and said, "I have no idea. I did not deliver them."
I scanned the crowd and did not spot anyone that I thought had bought them. It so happened I did not get into the game again so relaxed with a friend and we talked about the buyer of the drinks, wondering whom in the crowd it was. Jean finished the game, came over and said, "Thanks for the drinks. I need them as hot as it is." I said, "We did not buy them. Someone did and they were sitting here when I came out." She responded with, "Who cares? Thanks to them I will enjoy."
Noting more unusual happened and we went about our normal activities the rest of the night.
The next week the same incidence occurred. This put us on edge because we were wondering who was being so generous and why. We could not detect whom the person was that did it. Asking people around led to nothing and the cocktail waitress was at a loss.
The third week resulted in the same thing, drinks showing up, but this time in asking around, we were told that two black guys in business suits dropped them off as they walk by. Now we were curious wondering who the admirers were. We scanned the crowd and could not see any guys in business suits. Immediately I knew what they wanted and the thought of a black pole thrusting into my playpen is all that it takes to arouse me. My nips were pressing against my bikini top showing that I was aroused. My boobs were getting a lot of looks and finger pointing from the guys nudging their friends to look.
When I arrived home that evening, seeing how wet my shorts were and being aroused, the only thing I could do was to get out my black toy and relive the pressure that had built up. When I called Jean later, she told me she had done the same.
I had laid back on the bed, spread my legs apart, lifted my legs so the feet were flat on the bed, inserted the toy to get it lubricated with my left hand, then used my right hand fingers to hold my blood swollen lips apart. I used the toy to rub my clit and build myself while thinking of some strange black guy there teasing me with his monstrous toy.
When I reached my peak, I shoved the toy into the playpen and moaned vocally my orgasm as my pussy locked onto the black toy that was giving me so much pleasure.
I was looking forward to the fourth week and was leaking a lot all week thinking that maybe I would get to see my admirers finally. Unfortunately, no drinks showed up. I began to wonder, is it over?
The same for the fifth week, nothing
On the sixth week, early in the game, I saw two black guys in business suits. I pointed them out to Jean. Because of my interest in those guys, I missed shots and was yelled at by my team members. Jean was doing the same. The coach pulled us and told us we could get back into the game when our minds were focused again on the big ball and not the little ones.
Both Jean and I tried to ignore the guys but would occasionally slip a peek in their direction to see if they were interested in us. We were both disappointed in that there was no interest shown by them in us; not even so much as a glance our way. Then unexpectedly we heard, "Ladies, it looks as though you two could use a drink." It was the business suit guys.
We both looked at them with smiles on our faces and said, "Thanks we sure do need a drink."
Jean then said, "Are you the ghost that have been getting us drinks earlier in the season?"
We heard, "My name is Charles and this is Jack my partner. Yes, we have been the buyers of the earlier drinks. Look, we have a dinner engagement but are hoping that you two will be here later, say eleven so we could buy you a round before you go home. We sure would like to visit and have you get to know us better and we sure would love to get to know you two better."
Jean had that approval look in her eyes and said, "Sure we will let you do that."
"Thanks and enjoy those drinks ladies and see you later."
My nips were hard again and I knew I was getting damp.
Jean and I sat out the rest of the game and talked about them, wondering all sorts of things but knowing one thing for sure and that was that they want to get into our playpens.
We hung around the bar and talked about them following us from bar to bar over the past few weeks. Our friends were kidding us about hanging around to get laid.
At ten-forty five, they came back, dressed in white cut offs and white sleeveless muscle shirts. They sure looked masculine in shape and size in these white clothes. They had on baggy shorts, which hid the particular asset I was interested in viewing. Most of our friends had left but a few were still there. The guys bought a round for everyone, thanked us for staying and told us about themselves.
They were cousins both thirty years old. Jack was never married and Charles was divorced with one boy, seven years old, living with him. They were partners in a machine shop, redoing car and truck engines. Charles solicited the business and Jack worked it into the schedule.
The bar had a dance floor. From time to time, they would ask us to dance as well as asking our girlfriends to dance.
As it was approaching closing time Jack said, "Thanks for hanging around. We are looking forward to seeing you all next week at your next game."
My heart sunk. They did not even ask for our phone number. What's going on was going through my mind.
We all hugged and went our way. Jean and I ride together and we talked about the night. They were nice guys, in fact sweet guys and I would have said yes if they had asked. I guess them not asking and knowing the faces, did not get me aroused enough to play with myself before slipping into slumber land.
The next week they did show up in leisure office attire at our game. Because we knew them and since it led to no hot date the previous week, Jean and I concentrated on the game and helped the team win this time.
After the game, the cocktail waitress indicated the guys had reserved a table and everyone was welcome to gather for appetizers and drinks. It was on them. When we reached the table, it was obvious to everyone that Jack latched onto me and Charles latched onto Jean. We sat around drinking, nibbling, dancing and blah blah. When it came near to closing time, Jack leaned into me and whispered, "Amy, may I have your phone number, please?"
I was pleased hearing that and said, "Of course." He gave me two business cards and asked that I keep one and write my number on the other. He had gotten a pen from somewhere, probably the cocktail waitress.
Again, we all hugged and they indicated they would see us at the next game as we departed the bar for the night.
Jean and I talked about the happenings. She had given her number to Charles. We were wondering why they were not more aggressive in asking us for dates. We also talked about that we would have gone out with them if they had asked. Dating black guys is not high on our list of dating but we do from time to time and enjoy the pleasures and fun times we receive when we do.
The following Tuesday night, the phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, I recognized it was Jack's number. I answered it with "Hi Jack."
"Hi Babe, how are you?"
"Fine and you?"
"I'd be much better if you were here with me."
"How is that, Jack?"
"Well, we could be having fun and enjoying each other's company."
"I see. So what are you trying to tell or ask me?"
"Well babe, ever since Charles and I watched your team playing volleyball we have wanted to get to know you and Jean better. I have had you and your cousin on my mind a lot. You are a big girl. You know what we do when we are horny and alone."
I giggled and said, "Well I have heard and assume it is true what I have heard."
"What have you heard?"
"Can we discuss something else? Why did you call?"
"Because I am here horny thinking of you and wanting to know if you would go out on a date with me. Have you ever dated a black guy?"
