Blac Bible Ladies Issable Tits

For a change of pace, I’m sitting on the couch in Wally’s living room. Usually, it’s Rowdy Hall or the Maidstone Arms or some other bar in East Hampton. I’m wearing the black dress with the bare back, high hem to show my best feature: long, pale, shapely legs. Reveals as much décolletage as I’ve got. The junior "Vogue" shape is less the point that my gamin face, with lofty cheekbones, dark eyes, nice nose, full lips. As a teen, I made spending money modeling for mags.

My signature is smoldering brown eyes and jet-black pixie-cut hair.

I can’t figure out Wally’s lust. I’m available most weekends, but not to put out. Drink expensive chardonnay, talk dirty, and look cool on a stool.

Wally is early 50’s, divorced, lawyer, house south of the highway but not on the beach, strong-type handsome, fit and trim because he craves action, generous. Well, generous because what he spends is lunch money, for him, even when he gives me a $7,500 bracelet. (I'm thinking of once, at Christmas. Just for him, I gave a spontaneous one-woman performance of “The Trojan Women,” which ended with 'soldiers' shoving me to my knees, hands tied behind me, bare tits out, face pushed down onto Wally's cock).

He wants to fuck me, marry me, anything me, but I can’t see life as his wife. It challenges him. I try to go easy on the cock teasing. He enjoys telling me about his latest sex, which is constant, and, I would say, imaginative. And kinky.

Okay, on the couch, my chardonnay and his Jack, close but not touching. What is Wally’s latest?

“You know those Jehovah’s Witnesses women who go door to door?”

“Yeah, you feel sorry for them, slogging door to door in the freezing cold, but if you invite them in…”

“I invited them. Two black women carrying brochures and copies of Awake.”

Dear God, don’t tell me…

As though he heard my thought: “No, they loved being asked in. I sat right here beside one. The other one was over there. I gave them coffee and cookies.”

I glanced from under my lashes.

“So, yeah, we talked. The cute one…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, mid-forties, gleaming ebony skin. Dark eyes sparkling, so alive. And those lips! Wearing knockout red lipstick with gloss. With her coat off..."

"Oh, you got comfortable…”

“Right away! The other was the same age, lighter, fuller face, round. Sweetest smile, not quite as cute..."

I nodded.

“Laughing, so pleasant! What is it about these women? Do you think it has to do with faith?”

“What did they talk about?”

“Mostly, a new app on her cellphone. Can’t recall the URL, now. But everything about the "Bible," “science,” “answering questions,” you name it. You know what?”

I sipped chardonnay and raised my eyebrows.

“The "Bible" is on there in something like 150 languages. She was showing me…”

I knew he would get to the story.

“Ellen, you know I’m not religious, right? I respect religion, but I can’t believe.”

“Did they argue with you?”

“They tried the argument from design. You can imagine how ‘hot” that pitch is: God’s creation, everything fits, perfect. And now, we are screwing it up with carbon emission, global warming. I bet they’re getting mileage out of that!”

“You hit on her?”

Wally shrugged. “Well, yeah, I did.”

I said, with gravity, I hope: “Wally, I truly cannot imagine what that was like.”

“You know, Ellen, I just leaned toward her, smiled, and said: “I think the most beautiful thing in all creation is the body of a woman.”

“You need more Jack?”

I had stood up. I couldn’t sit still. I try not to be a prude. And I like Wally. What was this? Something inexpressibly desperate. Like stealing from the church’s poor box at Christmas.

“Sure, I’ll take some.” Wally ran his eyes up and down me and grinned.

I came back with Jack. I asked: “Did they both?”

“Giggled like mad. The one I was sitting beside, Grace, is a nurse. She does this Jehovah’s Witnesses gig like twice a month. I found out…”

He shrugged. “So, I’m thinking… nurse? She isn’t from a nunnery. She’s seen it all. She knows about the body. Right?”

I nodded just perceptibly.

“I said to her: ‘You know what I want to ask God?’ And she shook her head, but she smiled. Those red-gloss lips!”

I nodded.

“I rested my hand on her shoulder, leaned close, and said: ‘I want God to send me a beautiful, generous lady, so I can love, again. Is that wrong?”

“They giggled?”

“Mostly the other one. The one I was touching just kind of watched me, frowning… Can’t blame her, right?”

I couldn’t stand the suspense, so to speak. “So, how did this start?”

“I said, ‘I just want to kiss your breasts. That's all.’ The other one, on the chair across the coffee table, went crazy with giggling. So, I figured, what the hell. I looked at her, shaking my head kind of sadly, and I said, ‘You would be so beautiful.’

“And guess what?”

“Dear God,” I murmured.

“What?”

“Go on.”

Wally shrugged. “She did it. Gaze never left mine. She slowly peeled down the top of her black dress. Then, she reached around back to unhook this massive red bra. Smiling. A big, cocoa-brown, pumpkin-shaped, cute face. And suddenly, I’m staring at these whopper wineskins, pendulous, but bursting full—dark smooth nipples four inches across.

"I can't quite believe it. I'm seeing them. Then, I realize, wow, she's waiting for me to react. Because her hands cup them, heft them, give them a shake, and there's a kind of shy questioning smile on her face. Somehow, these burnt sienna aureolas are crinkling into rockets. 'I have never seen anything so beautiful!' I try to speak reverently."

Well, another one for Wally. Not in 1,000 years would I admit this escapade would result in anything but both women fleeing, maybe calling the cops… Got to hand it to Wally. A pioneer.

“The other one?”

“Oh, she did, too. Maybe because of how I looked at her friend. My face was shining with delight. I mean I wasn’t lunging… Ellen, the other one was a black Venus. When she whipped off her bra with a kind of grand flourish… Those breasts! Shining ebony, as solid as sculpture, beautifully separated on her chest, swooping up to a point in jet-black nipples.”

“You thanked God?”

“I didn’t say anything, Ellen. My challenge was two sets of bare breasts, right? Both waiting for attention.”

“How did you handle it? I mean, them?”

“Well, the one next to me let her head fall back on the couch. Long, perfect neck. Face so serene. I just grabbed one of her boobs and planted my mouth on the other, sucking it and sucking it.

“So she started rolling her head back and forth, her lips parted. I just went crazy on her nips. Then, I glanced at the other woman. Those monumental knockers! I smiled, nodded, pointed to the coffee table.”

“She came?”

“Got up, shoved down her skirt and panties, kicked them away.”

“Nice when they don’t play games…”

“Her belly was rounded, smooth and light-colored as a latte. Just curly jet back hair halfway up to her belly button. I loved her smile as she came over. Like she was bringing me a gift of pussy…”

I admit felt myself getting a little hot.

Wally said, “She plopped her big ass on the coffee table, knees almost touching the couch. Leaned forward so those big jugs swung out toward me. By this time, her nipples were like craggy little outcroppings.

To get my mouth to her nipple, I had to grab one boob and lift it. Also, bend my down my face. She went into a wave of giggles. God, Ellen, what a divine mouthful of flesh! And you know what? Must have been an express connection with her clit, because she went wild. She starts wailing, 'Oh, my Jesus! My Jesus!'”

I nodded and said: “When Jehovah’s Witnesses show up at my door, I say, ‘Oh, shit!’”

“I was back and forth between the perfect ebony sculptures, with their stiff little points, and the sublime pendulous wineskins…”

“Did it get past making out?” I asked. “Not that that is bad,” I added quickly.

“Momentum,” said Wally, nodding wisely. “Sheer momentum. I am standing up, bending over to service the glorious fat ollas, when I feel fingers at my belt, I mean tearing frantically! I panic for a second. What is happening?”

“What could be happening? What else?”

“Oh, beautiful! She undid me, shoved down my pants and underwear, jammed them to my ankles and dragged them off. As she did, I felt her hot boobs against my legs. My prick popped up, of course. But you know, I wasn’t sure…”

“Exciting, though…”

“I had the hard-on of all time! And you know what my big, giggling friend does? She grabs my hips, turns me right around toward her friend. And I think: Oh, jeez! She thinks I only wanted her friend… And I hear her snap, ‘Come on, Grace! Get with it!”

“No?”

“She does. And she stands straight, and says, ‘Do it, girl!’ and reaches around me to grab Grace's skirt and tear off her bottom stuff. And Grace is laughing like mad. I’m…sort of a bystander. I am waiting with my stiff dick while the lady of the ollas is ripping the clothes off my dark Venus. But I did reach around from the back and gave her ollas a tremendous squeezing and shaking and banging.

“I see long, lean legs, kicking as the skirt and panties come down. Then, a shiny black belly with the masses of curling black pussy hair.

“And the friend has her by one ankle, spreading her, saying, ‘Give it up, girl! Give it to him!’”

“Let me guess…” I said.

“Did I go down on her? I’m staring at her pussy as she squirms, with her legs parted. And her laugh! So beautiful, those eyes and lips!

“I guess her friend was a mind-reader. Because, right behind me, she says: ‘Let her wet it!’ And she is pushing me forward. I put one knee on the couch beside Venus’s head. She reaches up and takes my stiff prick. I lean in a little more.

“I feel hands against my back, a shove. I hear, ‘Take it all, girl!’ and my whole dick is rammed down poor Grace's throat. She jerks back, her eyes are bulging, her hand flies to push me out…

“Then, her eyes just go round, wild! She yanks out my prick and in a panic yells, ‘No! Shayla! no!’

“What in hell? I turn. Her friend has rammed four fingers, maybe her whole hand, into Grace’s pussy, reaming her. Shayla has a huge smile on her face and her tits surge forward as she bends-in to fist Grace’s poor cunt.

“First thing, I do, I reach back with one hand and give a huge swat to one of those ollas. I mean, I wallop it. To stop her… But she just squeals with that crazy laughing! In another second, I'm the one yelping! LIke a whipped dog! Because she has reached between my legs and grabbed my nuts and she’s rolling them together in her fist, as though she’s cracking pecans. I am yipping and reaching down to try to save myself. She’s mashing my balls against each other. It’s sending agony into my belly, my back, that sick agony when your balls are crushed…”

Wally and I have been sitting side by side. I have a stem glass of Chardonnay; he has a whiskey glass with ice and Jack. He has become animated. Stood up. He is bending, twisting, howling… a one-man show.

Yes, I see the hard-on in his pants. Like a mountain chain running up his belly. I am studying it. He glances down, pausing the show. He grins. I smile.

Okay. I reach with one delicate, long-fingered, well-manicured hand and pull down his zipper. Then, I unhook his belt. Unsnap his tousers. He looks stunned. Disbelieving. He sees I am at the end of one-handed work and helps.

He pushes down his trousers, taking along his underwear. His freed dick pops up. Wally has a good one. Long and thick, straight, arched back, now, with a swollen pink head.

I glance up at him from under my pixie cut. I take his prick in my left hand, still holding the wine glass. I say, “Go ahead. What happened?”

He frowns, trying to recall. My hand moves up and down, sliding the skin off his glans penis.

“Oh… right…we are laughing, crazed. I turn around, yank my balls out of Shayla's hand with a squeal of pain, and I get hold of her big, soft, sprawling tits, one in each hand, and start manhandling them. I’m squeezing, shoving them against her chest, jerking her nipples, going mad with this soft, luscious flesh. And she is laughing her head off….”

I am massaging Wally’s dick, hot in my hand, lengthening… I keep dragging the foreskin down so the head of his dick butts up and he yelps. Just wondering when he will lose his concentration…

He draws a ragged breath…says, “Okay, so Shayla says, ‘It’s right there, fuck it!’ And she has Grace by the ankles, now, spreading her. I hear her say, ‘He’s coming, Grace, baby! You going to get it!”

I think: This sounds like a routine. Am I really the first? I mean…

“Then, I howl. Now it is Grace who has reached up to capture my attention by delivering a swift, hard slap to my nuts! She is saying, ‘Fuck me!’

“Yup, long, slender, ebony legs, gorgeous muscles inside her thighs, her twat yanked wide, so I see pink meat, her big clit… She is dripping wet!”

I take Wally’s dick in my mouth. Just the head. I am not a swallowing girl. The erotic action is beneath the head of the dick. What is this obsession for sword swallowing? I lick and tickle and flick the head…

Wally has not said anything. Needs a cue. I say, “Did you deliver the terrible swift sword?”

“What?” he asks, distantly.

“You fucked Grace?”

“Oh! Yes! I was kneeling over her. So perfect. Belly, breasts…And still those luscious lips… And then, a hand is on my back. But this time, I give I start, because a hand also has taken command of my prick. As I am pushed forward and down, I realize Shayla is directing my prick into Grace’s pussy. Once the head is in, Shayla gives me this tremendous shove!"

I suck Wally’s dick harder. I reach between my legs.

“Ellen, I was shoved! I feel my dick shoot in all the way, and Grace gives a cry. I am sprawled on her, my chest crushing down her boobs. And then, my lips are on her full, bright red lips and I am devouring her. For a little while, I can hear her sort of gurgling with protest as Shayla keeps shoving me into her pussy. But then, she is kissing me and relaxing…”

I take Wally out of my mouth for a second, I glance up and say: “And then, you start a long, beautiful cum.”

“Yes!” he says. It's a gasp.

I whip my tongue back and forth under the fat head of his dick.

“Yes!” he yells.