A Year To Remember

The stars are lovely this time of year, the sky as clear as looking through crystal makes you think that you can just reach up and grab hold of your favorites, and hold them twinkling in the palm of your hand. I always feel at one with these nights as the sky and I are both black as pitch. It's always late at night when I at last go out looking for some action. I never go dancing or drinking early, not because I can't hold my booze, but because drinking isn't why I go out. If that were all, then I could stay home with the stars, instead of staring in the action, and by that I mean women of course. By this time of night if the women are escorted both they and the men they are with are loosened up enough for any fun suggestions, women get an itch drinking, the men, mostly primed with liquid courage, feel that they are Superman, or Einstein, and usually wrong on both accounts.

I don't very often go to Sam's, because it's mostly the married crowd, and nearly all white at that, but Sam is a friend of mine, which makes for allowances on the customers part I suppose, since he's almost as black as me, and he serves the best spaghetti around. The ladies could wait another hour I figured as I pulled into a not too crowded parking lot, a nice quiet dinner of spaghetti on my mind as I entered Sam's, and if he wasn't too busy some conversation as well.

Sam had taken over the restaurant from an Italian couple going broke at the time, but instead of kicking them out of their home in back hired them to continue cooking and handling the chores for him. He raised the prices, added a salad bar and built on a cozy lounge with a small dance floor where on weekends he had local musicians keep the customers happy as they got pleasantly smashed. The bar in the lounge is always open, and since tonight was a Wednesday there would be a three-piece jazz combo easing the mellow into the bones.

Sam always works the bar in the lounge himself at night, he lets me eat in there as well so that I can enjoy the sounds, and tonight was no different. Save for the group of married white folks sitting nearby on their way to blitzville whose cars were parked in the lot outside, we had the place all to ourselves.

"Business slowing down?" I asked Sam as he brought my food personally.

"Naw, just a week night, you missed the rush," he laughed in return sitting with me as he poured us both a glass of Montrouché, then pointed to the jazz combo, "and besides, it's nigger night as the locals call it."

That made me laugh, as he knew it would, because Wednesday night jazz usually packs them in. I always had this sneaking suspicion that it was the wives doing a little window shopping with their husbands coming along to see that they didn't buy anything in basic black. Still the husbands must have reaped the benefits once they returned home or Nigger Night would have flopped a long time ago.

"Oh yeah, there's a concert in town tonight," I said suddenly remembering the tickets I'd given to my friend Lee.

"Happens sometimes," Sam agreed, "but I'll get them on their way home if it's not too late."

"Doesn't end until midnight, I had tickets," I informed him.

"Oh well, I can go to bed early for a change then," he laughed, I'm sure, thinking about those who always had to have one extra last call at 2am.

"Play it again Sam!" Suddenly broke into our conversation from the white crowd.

"Be back, enjoy your supper Dirt," Sam said on his way to see what they wanted.

I wasn't trying to listen in, but then I didn't have to try, as the one white guy was just plain and simple loud. I'll never understand even to the grave how some of the most fantastic looking women in the world end up getting paired with such over confident, loud mouthed, mental midgets. The young woman next to the loud mouth, obviously his embarrassed wife, was the stuff of which wet dreams were made of. It was also obvious, at least to me and every swinging black dick in there that she no doubt was here for a vicarious thrill having dressed as if she were out on the prowl for some stray adventure. From where I sat I could see under the table they were at, and damn if she wasn't wearing suspenders under that loose skirt of hers. I looked at the other couples then, and noticed the same tell tales of women in heat, and husbands without a clue, and not a dog in the whole bunch. The snake in my pants started to raise its head in curiosity.

"Hey Sam," said everyone's favorite loud mouth as Sam served them their drinks, "I wondered if you'd do me a favor."

"Sure Larry, if I can," Sam offered without much enthusiasm.

"Well, it's kind of personal," Larry said whispering as loud as an elephant trumpets before he charges, "and I'll understand if you want to back out, but me and the boys here were just telling our wives that all that bull shit about blacks is just that, mere bullshit. Wouldn't you agree?"

Now a lot of people in Sam's position right there might have belted Larry right then, but Sam is cool, and at the moment was very curious too.

"That depends on what exactly your talking about, now doesn't it Larry."

"Oh come on Sam, you know what I'm talking about," but when Sam didn't budge Larry bulled right through to the point, "the bull shit legend Sam! You know, about blacks being a hell of a lot bigger in the crotch than whites."

"Oh, you mean that one," Sam snickered, then let Larry have it with both barrels, "To tell you the truth Larry, I don't think women, white or black are much different down there, both seem nice and tight to me, and I otta know I've had both."

That had everyone in the place laughing, and not just a couple of the ladies in Larry's group blushed either. However when the laughter died down Larry didn't.

"I'm not talking about the women's crotches Sam, and you know it. I suspect the reason you answered the way you did is because you know I'm right about this. Black men aren't any different in cock size than white men, are they? That myth that all black men are built like stallions is total poppycock!"

"Well, now Larry," Sam replied, "maybe it is, and then again maybe it ain't. What's it to you, and what's it worth to me to prove it?" And Sam looked at each one there at the table in turn to see how they were all taking this.

"Free dinner and drinks for a year for everyone at this table if I'm right," Larry suggested, greed his only interest.

"Okay," Sam countered, "I see your side, but what's in it for me?"

"If we loose, we pay double every time we come here for a year."

"No bet then, you'd just stay away till the year was over, and don't try giving me your word of honor shit, that wouldn't happen Larry, because your word ain't worth shit I hear, but I'll make you boys a counter offer."

"What's that?"

"If you win, you get your year of free food and booze, but if the myth proves to be real here, tonight, now, then everybody at this table is mine to do with as I please for a year, and you all have to agree in writing. I can always use a few white slaves around here, and I ain't had no white pussy in a while either."

"Now wait a minute..." Larry started to argue.

"It's a fair bet Larry," said the man across the table from him interrupting.

"Yeah Larry, call his bluff," chimed in the guy sitting next to him.

Larry was quickly outnumbered by the rest of the men. Greed with white men must be contagious, or Sam's drinks weren't watered down as in some places. Still, Larry hesitated.

"I'll tell you what Larry, just to be fair, I'll let the women be the judges. You can't get any better odds than that, after all if it's even close they'll judge in your favor."

"All right, but on one condition," Larry hedged, "I don't want this to turn out as a pissing contest between just you and me and get blamed later by the rest if I happen to fall short, not that I will mind you, but to be fair here as this is a question of generalities, we have to compare more than just yours and mine, wouldn't you think."

Not so stupid after all, I thought, as the man across from Larry asked what he suggested to make the bet work.

"To be fair," Larry said, "each of us here at the table should compare our size with that of a different black guy's. Since there's five of us here and five black men in the room.....well?"

"Larry, your such an ass," Sam snorted, "you expect me to talk these other men into this bet?"

"Sure, why not?" Larry asked, once again confident having figured that there was no way the bet could be made now, "After all, it's a matter of mythical proportions, isn't it? And we'll all sign the agreement."

Larry had just lost all his hard earned points from me then, and he had been doing so well too. It never entered their white pea brains that him and his friends had just been hustled into a year of indentured sexual servitude. The glow in each of their wife's eyes should have told them they were in trouble no matter how big their dicks were. There's nothing like the chance of having sex with a strange cock with your husbands willing or other wise permission to stir up those pussy juices in a horny woman.

"Okay, Larry," Sam said, "have your lawyer friend write it up, and we'll all sign it. Meanwhile I'll go asked the others."

Of course as the guy across from Larry drew up the contract, Sam made a pretense of pleading his case to the combo, and myself, with us shaking our heads in the negative of course, as we whispered back and forth about who was going to get which wife first, and what we would be having their husbands doing as we did.

"Sam!" Larry yelled over, "we need your signature here," then he laughed seeing Sam come over to sign then return to us as if to change our minds.

"Are all of their names signed on the paper Sam?" I asked.

"Yep, it's even written the way you told me," he replied.

"Okay, go get it, and I'll notarize it for you," I said, only this I didn't whisper.

The silence of the room blasted in my ears, as Sam took the paper and brought it to me to notarize. Ten sets of eyeballs locked on my every move as I added a line to define the measuring technique to be used, and then I embedded the seal and signed my name. I swear, even now that I could hear sweat beading up over at that table.

"Okay, it's legal," I announced, as Sam went to lock up, "let the fun begin!"

"They have to sign too," Larry said, pointing to the three men in the combo.

"No, they don't," I replied, "the bet is with you five men and Sam, they just happen to be part of the measuring process like me, or the tape we'll use."

"Tape? But I thought we were letting the women judge this," Larry whined.

"We are," I said, "but they need something to measure with so that there's no cheating on either side, don't worry, I added that clause to the contract that you all signed. I knew you'd want this to be on the up and up, right?"

By now Larry wasn't the only one worried, as the others sobered up to what they'd just done, and what the consequences might be. When Sam returned from locking up and turning off the outside lights I directed the men to stand over by the stage, as Sam left a measuring tape at the table with the women, who were already beginning to giggle back and forth, then he joined the rest of us.

"Now gentlemen, here's how it will go," I instructed, "two men at a time, one white the other black will walk over to the table, the wife of the white man will measure them both and write those figures down on the back of the contract. I suggest we get started, masturbation of course is an option. Larry and Sam your first...."

All the white guys immediately pulled out their puds and started jerking off to get their dicks as big as possible, and a couple of them were even half hard already though nothing that would impress anyone. With black men size is somewhat different as we aren't that much bigger erect than we are soft, by maybe an inch or two, but with white guys, they grow from next to nothing when limp to what they think is a whopping stiff piece of wood. The change in them is exaggerated by the difference I'm sure, and probably why they made this stupid bet in the first place.

Once all the white dudes were erect Larry and Sam walked over to the table. Larry proudly got measured basking in the lime light of his great moment.

"Five and a half inches, by three and a half," his wife Laura called out for all to hear as she wrote the figures down.

"Beat that!" Larry snorted with contempt.

Without a word, Sam unzipped his fly, and reached inside his pants. Fishing out his cock, he plopped it on the tabletop to be measured. The whole room heard his meat flop down on the table top, and we saw all the women's eyes widen. Laura seemed to take longer to measure Sam than she did her own husband.

"Eight and a half inches, by five and a half," Laura called, then as if awestruck added, "and it isn't even hard yet."

That's pretty much the way it went each time a pair went to be measured, the wife of the white guy almost always breathless as she took the measurements. By the time the lawyer type and me went up he'd all but lost his erection and had his wife suck his cock in front of everyone there just to get all 6 by 4 inches measured. I thought he and his wife would faint when I placed my own cock out on the table, and suggested as she measured me next;

"Since your wife is so talented maybe she should do me as well?"

"Ten holy shit, by six damn inches!" She managed to choke out her right hand not seeming to want to let go either.

"That's quite enough Deanna," ordered her husband, then looking at all the wives each in turn, demanded; "you know what's on the line here, you all know the price to be paid. Now what's the verdict?"

"Not so fast," I put in seeing a dilemma about to appear, "they have to do a secret ballot. It's the only fair thing to do. Other wise you husbands will slap yourselves on the back for your victory, but blame them for your bet if it goes wrong for you, and that I won't tolerate."

I had them dead to rights and they knew it, the sheepish looks on their faces proved that. To make things even more secret, we gave each woman the same stickem notepaper and #2pencil, they had to circle white or black that I'd written on each, and they had to do it in the ladies room out of our sight then fold them up and put them in a white envelope and bring the envelope back to us to count out in the open.

Larry got the privilege of opening the envelope, and he handed each folded slip of paper to Sam to unfold and place face up on the table.

"White," Sam said then laid the first note down.

You could actually see the visible signs of relief on each of the white men's faces as they all believed that their wife at least had voted for them.

"Black," Sam said putting the second note on the table for all to see.

"Black again," Sam announced, and breathing halted in the room.

"White, makes it even," Sam laughed, which meant at least two women were still innocent in their husbands eyes, and one of those wives had to be their own.

"Okay boys and girls, this is it, the tie breaker," Sam pointed out taking his time to slowly unfold this last vote, then seeing it first, sighed as if disappointed.

"All right!" Larry shouted.

"I'm glad your pleased Larry," Sam said, then placed the last vote on the table, "cause I like happy slaves."

"Oh shit!" Gasped the lawyer, as Sam folded up the signed contract, "Black is circled! We lost!"

"Yes, you did," Sam agreed, "now strip! In fact all of you men strip."

Men never give women enough credit for being smart, I guess it's their ego, but I knew even before the votes were shown that we'd won. These men would all think that it was the other guy's wives who had betrayed them and that their own wives were innocent, and the truth was that they were right in a way, as that's exactly how the women felt about it when they went into the Ladies room and agreed to leave two votes circled in white instead of making the vote unanimous for black.

Once all five of the white dudes were naked Sam had them line up side by side on the dance floor in front of the table they'd sat at all night, then kneel down on the wooden floor, as every black man took a seat next to their wives. I got Laura, Larry's wife, and Sam got the lawyer's wife Deanna.

"Hey, they aren't part of the bet," Larry whined, then pointed to me and the combo.

"Larry, Larry, Larry," Sam said shaking his head sadly, "Your forgetting the bet already, aren't you?" Sam unfolded the paper and read out loud, "If you win, you get your year of free food and booze, but if the myth proves to be real here, tonight, now, then everybody at this table is mine to do with as I please for a year. And it pleases me to entertain those who made this possible Larry. Ladies, if you will be so kind as to pull out your new partners big black pricks to remind these little pecker heads why you, and they are my property for the next year, we'd be so appreciative."

Not a one of the ladies hesitated in the slightest, each unzipping the pants of the man next to them, reaching in and pulling out the slab of meat waiting for them inside. With the five white men kneeling nude as in a chorus line, their insignificant dingies helpless to compete, the women literally shook our pythons in front of their husbands mocking them as nothing else ever could have. It was Larry's own wife Laura who got the idea first and suddenly in front of everybody bent over, and stretched her mouth around my growing black prick to suck it. The other's quickly followed suit to the horror of their husbands as Sam simply said; "Ladies, time for desert."

I saw several in the chorus line quickly become erect from watching their white wives act the slut with a big black cock and Larry was one of them. I decided that it was time to do a little teasing.

"Sam, what say you have these fine white sluts do a striptease for us all."

"That's an excellent idea," Sam replied and had the Lawyer's wife go start up the jukebox, then announced, "Okay you horny bitches, I know you want to get those pussies of yours broken open, but let's see if you're worth it. Show these assholes what they're going to be missing over the next twelve months. Dance!"

It had to be torture for those men to watch as their wives came out on the dance floor and striped in front of everyone as if auditioning for the job. Sam had a great time giving instructions.

"That's it Laura, but when you get down to your garter and stockings leave them and your high heels on, it makes you look more like a whore don't you think. Oh, and Deanna, you can leave those crotch less panties and peek-a-boo bra on as well."

For each woman it was the same, as their underwear and bodies dictated, with Jennifer ending up with only her bright red high heels on, she ended up being the most naked. Then when Sam was happy with what the women were wearing he had them bend over in front of their husbands, and then made the men tongue fuck their own wife's assholes.

"You know," I said to Sam, "I think Larry is used to brown nosing, don't you?"

"He's had enough practice," Sam laughed back, "you should see him when his boss is here, I expect him to bend over and genuflect at any second. I wouldn't be surprised if Larry were the man's personal dress up doll and faggot toilet."

"To bad his boss isn't here tonight," I laughed.

"Who do you think talked Larry into this bet," Sam roared, pointing at the Lawyer type," and that had everyone still at the table laughing their heads off.

"Laura," I called out, "how does Larry look dressed up as a woman?"

"Yes, Laura," Sam followed through, "see if some of those things will fit him, you other ladies give her a hand."

It didn't take long with their combined efforts, and in no time Larry was back kneeling in the chorus, only now he had on Jennifer's panties, Laura's skirt, and Deanna's blouse, his lips were painted bright red, there was blush on his cheeks, and mascara and eye shadow on his eyelids. Of course his hair was cropped short, but tousled, and when one of the other women clipped her earrings to his ears the transformation was incredible. He looked like a cute girl.