Southern Hospitality

‘Dammit. Where have all of the strawberry preserves been disappearing to?’ Mr. Harper complains, loudly scraping the sides of the empty mason jar with the serving spoon.

‘You know that Wade has practically been inhaling them since he came back,’ Alice, Wade’s younger sister, explains.

I’m trying not to blush, wondering what they would think if they really knew how at least one jar of Tillie’s strawberry preserves came up missing…

‘Well, that doesn’t solve my problem, Alice,’ the old man grumbles. ‘I’m still sitting here with this empty jar.’

‘Just call Tillie, Daddy,’ Jill suggests.

‘I’ll get them,’ I offer, looking for any excuse to leave the table for a few minutes.

‘Don’t be silly, Ingrid,’ Mrs. Harper says. ‘That’s what Tillie’s being paid for.’

‘It’s okay. I need to stretch my legs, anyway.’

I get up before they can try to stop me again, rushing from the dining room table to the kitchen. I should have guilt written all over my face, about my long afternoon yesterday with John. Wade’s still visiting with his uncle, so I haven’t had to face him, yet, but I’m dreading the day of his return. His family doesn’t seem to notice my new jitters, but they all think I’m strange, anyway.

In the kitchen, Tillie’s standing at the sink, washing dishes.

‘Child, what are you doing in here? Did they call and I didn’t hear it?’ she sounds worried. ‘You know, my hearing ain’t what it used to be.’

‘No. I just came to get more strawberry preserves.’

‘I’ll have to start on another batch pretty soon. I’ll make extra, so that Mr. Wade can take some home with him. He told me that you really like them, too.’

‘I do,’ I blush again, slipping into the pantry to hide my red face.

The preserves are on the top shelf, in the back, so it takes me a minute to get a new jar down. When I finally emerge from the pantry, I come out to find that Tillie has company.

I almost drop the jar when I see John standing there, blocking the light from the door, wearing a starched white shirt and beige linen trousers that hold the outline of his massive thighs.

‘John, don’t be rude,’ Tillie hits him with her towel, ‘Ain’t you gonna speak?’

‘Yes, Ma’am, of course. Hello, Miss Logan.’

I look at the floor, nervous again. His revived formality seems to have erased our entire experience.

‘John.’

‘Have you talked to Mr. Wade since he’s been back?’ Tillie chatters on.

‘No, not really,’ John seems to be in a fog.

I’m standing in front of the pantry, stalling for time, wishing that I could say something to him. He’s turned away from me, now, as if he’s never known me, and is giving Tillie his full attention.

‘Is there something else you needed, Miss Ingrid?’ Tillie asks me.

‘No, no. I think this is it. Thank you.’

‘Well, Mama,’ John speaks up, ‘I think I’d better be going…’

‘But you just got here.’

‘I know,’ he leans down to kiss her cheek. ‘I’ll be home this afternoon, if you need me.’

I hear this last bit as the swinging door closes behind me, with his voice carried on the wind.

---

I’ve made up some monumental lie, something that I imagined would provide me with an adequate alibi for the afternoon. Alice had once suggested that I join her on her next visit to the beauty parlor in town, but I had gently rebuffed her at the time, politely asking for a rain check. She has an appointment for today, but can’t make it, so she offers her time slot to me. I gratefully take it, announcing a fictitiously lengthy itinerary to excuse myself for the entire afternoon. Mrs. Harper doesn’t seem to be suspicious, so I leave right after breakfast, heading for the hair salon.

My trip to the beauty parlor is taking longer than I thought it would; in New York, I can find a place that will just give me the haircut that I ask for, no questions asked. But here, all of the ladies are so genteel and conformist, that they expect me to heartily follow their suggestions. Miss Ethel, Alice’s regular stylist, wants to take my shoulder length, auburn hair, and tease it into a stiff, dried out bouffant, identical to all of the other clients sitting around the place. I balk at this, leading her to wrinkle her eyebrows at me in confusion.

‘But, Ingrid, it’s the latest thing…’ she tries to convince me.

‘Not in New York,’ I say, feeling the gravity of my words as her face changes. I can see heads turning, and I can almost hear their ears perking up.

‘Just cut it to here,’ I give her directions. ‘That’s all I want.’

‘Well, is that what they do in New York?’

‘Yes. It’s the newest thing there…’

‘Just a bob? Nothing else?’ she looks incredulous.

‘It must be that baby doll fad that’s all the rage now,’ another stylist suggests.

Ethel is still hesitant; she acts as if I’ve just asked her to shoot me.

‘Are you sure, Sugar?’

‘Yes. Definitely,’ I’m looking at my watch now, worried about losing precious time. She finishes quickly, but she won’t let me leave without at least giving me a basic flip, to which I accede.

I’m rushing across town, to get to John’s house before the entire afternoon has passed. In my panic, I worry that he’s gone already, called to tend to some emergency. I’m fighting to calm my nerves, resolving to sit and wait, until it’s just too late for me to stay any longer.

I park the car far enough away to prevent anyone from connecting it to my visit to John’s house. It takes me twenty minutes to arrive, walking a circuitous route, but I’ve finally made it. As I enter through the kitchen, the irony of my situation doesn’t escape me. I almost feel like a criminal, sneaking around in broad daylight, wandering through back woods and isolated pastures to get to him.

He’s here, sitting at the kitchen table, with two places set for lunch. I am starving, but I’m hungrier for him at this moment. I drop my purse on the floor and immediately reach for his crotch, unfastening his linen pants to release his irresistible cock. I’m already realizing the benefits of my new haircut as I slurp and slobber all over his delectable penis; he’s running his hands through my hair, but he doesn’t have to hold it up out of the way. I spread his precum all over my lips, kissing his cock up and down, squeezing it’s thick base with one hand as I grip his balls with the other. I’m determined to make him cum this way, and I notice that the more I lick and the harder I suck his cock, the wetter my pussy gets. I can feel his cock jump when I swirl my tongue across his most sensitive spot. I’m ready to make it happen; I’ve never felt this wild before, and I don’t care if he comes on my face. I almost want him to.

I relax my throat to take him deeper. He moans and grips my head as he raises his hips toward my face, pushing his cock in slowly. His deep breathing makes my clit twinge, and I stroke his hipbones with my thumbs as I hold onto him. My knees are pressing into the hard wood floor, but everything feels numb. The only sensations that I notice are his fat cock growing and throbbing in my mouth and deep in my throat, and my slick pussy, dripping now, ready for attention.

I’m ready for him to explode into my mouth, filling my throat and my stomach with his copious semen, but he pulls his cock out. I collapse on him for a moment, catching my breath. I can feel his hot, sticky cock resting on the top of my head, rigid and heavy. My hopes are dashed; he’s going to come in my hair, of all places. I’m a little confused, but when he gently pats my back, I move away from him.

He pulls his pants down, letting them drop to the floor.

‘Don’t want to have a big wet spot on my pants for the rest of the day,’ he chuckles.

I smile, grabbing his shoulders to balance myself as I straddle his lap. Pushing my dress up, and stepping out of my soaked panties, I sit on his thighs, leaning into his cock. I hold my dress up far enough to see his long cock resting on my stomach, looking like a wet log against my freckled skin.

I stand over it, watching the whole time, as he guides my hips into place. He holds the base of his cock as I lower myself down to it, watching his black pole gradually disappear inside my pink pussy.

‘Ohhh…’ I bite my lips, already trembling from this pleasurable pressure.

He sits as if nothing is happening, watching me as I work my hips back and forth, and up and down, slathering his cock with my wetness. I feel like I’m on fire, and I want his cock to explode, to put out the flame. I can feel the walls of my pussy contracting, massaging his penis, making him grunt a little.

My orgasm is sudden and intense, and he pulls me to him, making me shudder as my clit and my pussy spasm at the same time. He gives me a minute to recover, rubbing his cheek against mine and kissing my hairline. After I’ve come back to my senses, he sits me up again.

‘Stand up,’ he gives me a quiet command. I immediately obey him, scrambling to get to my feet. ‘Take off your clothes.’

I stand aside, stepping out of my dress and my shoes, waiting for the next command. He’s moving things on the table, repositioning the plates so that they are at the opposite end of the table. His cock is still at full attention; I want to grab it and lick it again, but I’m curious to see what else he has in store for me.

John lifts me off the floor and lays my body flat across the table. The two lunch plates, filled with sandwiches and potato salad, rest at either side of my head, close enough for me to see, but too far away for my head to touch. I can feel the rough texture of the wood through the thin cloth that covers the table, and the straight edge behind my thighs as my legs dangle in the air. He moves toward me, cock in hand, lifting one of my legs to prop my calf against his shoulder.

He’s watching again, as his cock invades my pussy this time. He strokes slowly, all the way in, out all the way to the tip, until I cum again, my teeth chattering and my jaw trembling, even though it’s not cold.

‘Does Wade make you feel like this?’ he asks me quietly.

‘No,’ I whisper.

‘Does he make you feel like this?’ he lowers his body to mine, pushing my leg so that my knee is pressing into my breast. He starts pumping me with a steady rhythm, his cock making sloshing sounds as it pounds into my dripping pussy.

‘Does he?’ he asks again, his breath heavy, and his chest pressing into my calf and my breasts at the same time.

‘No… no he doesn’t…’ I can barely talk at this point, feeling another orgasm approaching.

‘How does it feel?’ he grunts, moving faster.

‘Oh, God, you’re driving me crazy!’ I squeal. ‘Don’t stop…’

‘Does he fuck you like this?’

‘No, oh, God, no… you’re so deep… ohhh….’

I clutch his arms as I cum again, wrapping my other leg around his hip, trying to pull him even deeper into me.

‘Oh, John, don’t stop, please, don’t stop! Fuck me with your big cock!’

This sends him off. We’re shaking the table, now. His balls are smacking into me, and my leg is numb, but I don’t want him to stop, his pounding feels so good. I can feel his body stiffening, and as he pumps his seed into me, he releases a loud groan, making me mewl with pleasure as my pussy milks him dry.

In the heat of our passion, I’ve forgotten about the plates, and my hand has fallen into a heap of potato salad. I hold it between our giggling faces and we greedily lick it clean, between sharing deep, sensuous kisses. John has freed my legs now, but he’s still leaning on top of me, feeding me broken bits of a chicken sandwich, and fingering potato salad into my mouth. Just as the idea of licking the salad off of his cock presents itself to me, he raises his eyebrow.

‘I know what you’re thinking, but I’ll have to take a rain check. It’s getting late, and I have some patients to see this evening.’

I look over his shoulder at the wall clock, noting the time, and feeling a little sadness strike my heart when I realize that I need to get back to the Harpers’ in time for supper.

---

It seems that my haircut has caused quite a stir in the beauty shop. Word has gotten around about my strangely simple hair do, but no one in town is brave enough to give up their bee hive, that is, at least until they see this new “New York fad” displayed in the pages of some magazine. When Alice finally saw me, she looked so disappointed that I thought she’d go and apologize to Miss Ethel for my lack of style.

The Harpers have been busy this week, and luckily, I’ve been staying with them long enough for them to stop feeling beholden to entertain me. They’ve left me alone this week, for the most part, and I’ve managed to see John three more times. Wade will be back today, and I don’t know what I’m going to do when we’re finally face to face.

I’ve grown so used to John, that the sound of his voice makes me wet. Just thinking of him makes my knees weak, and I still can’t sleep through the night, because I’m used to lying in his arms, dozing after sex in the afternoon. He talks to me as I drift off, telling me stories about his childhood, how he grew up, and how he went to college early. Wade had looked up to John, as an older brother. He and Wade had been buddies up until Wade turned sixteen, and developed an interest in girls. John was twenty at the time, and he said that Wade had begun to distance himself from him. This was a natural thing, he explained, in friendships like theirs; it was time for Wade to make friends with white boys his own age. He couldn’t have John hanging around, especially when he started dating girls.

John had been courting a sweetheart at the time, and had intended to marry her when he returned from college. During that time, though, he’d found out that Wade had been seeing the girl, while John was gone. John had forgiven Wade for this transgression, because they had been such close friends, and he admitted that the girl had been a willing participant. He was still angry, but he decided to move past it, and to get on with his life.

After he broke up with his sweetheart, John poured over the books. When he decided to become a doctor, his mother cried. When he told Wade, though, he was met with an incredulous laugh and an immediate put down, with Wade asking him just who he thought he was, believing that he, a country Negro, could become a doctor. This, of course, was the final insult that permanently broke up their friendship.

I’ve been wondering if John is seeing me just to get back at Wade. I’ve been so wrapped up in him, that I didn’t think that I cared one way or the other, but now that Wade is coming back, I can’t help but wonder. I’ve convinced myself that I will be strong enough to give up seeing John. I have to; it will be impossible to get away from Wade this time, and the whole thing is wrong, anyway. I’ll be marrying Wade next spring, and I need to focus on making our relationship better.

---

It’s been two weeks. Wade doesn’t suspect anything. I haven’t seen John in all this time, I haven’t even talked to him, but I miss him like nothing else. I think about him all of the time, and I’ve been longing for his touch, especially when I’m alone at night. I lay in bed, in my narrow, stuffy room, and I touch myself, rubbing my clit and plunging my fingers into my pussy, but nothing moves me like John does. Wade doesn’t even begin to compare; I find his ministrations to be teasing at best, annoying at worst. I’ve been aching for John, enough to cry at night, but I haven’t tried to contact him.

After the third week of being away from John, I’ve grown so distracted that even Wade has noticed. I’ve told him that I’m sick, and he’s offered to call a doctor, but I’ve managed to talk him out of it. I know that he’s probably afraid that I’m pregnant, and I’m playing off of this assumption, just for a little while, hoping that I’ll get a little time to be alone, to think all of this through. Wade has been smothering me with attention, as if he knows that I’m longing for someone else.

My heart skips a beat when I receive a word from John. He’s heard, through Tillie, that I’m not well, and he’s surreptitiously sent me a note, slipped underneath a napkin on my breakfast tray. I open it and read it, five times, running my fingers along the looped script, and pressing the paper to my face, as if I’ll feel John’s hand on my cheek, just because it once held this slip of paper.

I’m to meet him tonight, at one thirty, a little down the road from the house. It will be a long walk, but I’m determined to see him, throwing all of my attempts at fidelity to the wind. If I don’t see him now, I think I’ll go crazy.

The day drags on, with Wade picking my brain, trying to diagnose me himself. It takes Jill to shoo him away, explaining to him that I’m probably having “female problems”. I cringe at her explanation, knowing that Wade knows my schedule, and also knowing that he’ll worry even more.

He’ll soon be panicking about pushing the wedding up, and about what the family will think.

I have to make myself wait until the clock strikes one a.m. before I head out, tiptoeing down the hall, and inching away from the house until I break into a full out run once I’ve passed the first grove of trees separating the house from the road. Remembering John’s directions, I run at full speed, heedless of the mosquitoes and ignoring the bramble scraping my legs. I finally find his car, sitting in the shadow behind some trees. I’m wondering how he managed to pull it so far off the road without getting stuck.

He’s sitting in the back seat, listening to the radio. I climb in, wrapping my arms around him, kissing him as if it was going to be my last day on earth. We’re already groping each other, pulling on buttons and tugging on zippers, undressing in what must be record time. I’m reaching for John’s gorgeous cock, but he stops me, turning me around, so that I can sit on his face as I suck his penis.

We’re starving for each other. He laps me as if it is his first meal in days; I’m trying to take his entire cock into my mouth, pushing my head down with gusto, licking underneath the ridge of his cock head. We’ve forgotten about breathing; as soon as I remember to come up for air, feeling slightly lightheaded, I wonder if I’m smothering him, because I’m almost to the point of orgasm. The car smells of sex already, and we’ve only just started. Again, I’m determined to make him cum by sucking his wonderful black cock, but he’s never let me reach that point.

He tries to move me off of him, but I refuse to let go. I can feel his balls churning and his cock twitching as I swill my tongue around it. He’s trying to say something, babbling, but before he can make it sound sensible, he explodes in my mouth. His cum shoots down my throat, almost choking me. His cock is still spurting as I take it out of my mouth, cum oozing out of his hole. I stroke him up and down, making it shoot again, into my mouth, so that I can taste it. His back is arched off the seat and his body jerks every time that I touch him. I take his cock back into my mouth, sucking more, cleaning it, savoring his cum.

After I’ve cleaned his cock, I turn around to face him again, holding his handsome face in my hands, staring at him for a few moments. I want commit each detail of his face to my memory, because I know that it will be a long time before I can see him again. He has lust in his eyes, and he pulls me up to him, so that my breasts are positioned right above his mouth. He takes a nipple between his lips, tugging and teasing, and running his fingertips down my back, over my ass, and between my thighs. I can feel his cock stiffening, so I gyrate my hips, grinding it between our bodies. His fingers have found my slit, and are sliding in and out of my pussy. My clit is rubbing against his veiny cock, and I can feel my pussy start to quake at our constant friction.

‘I want you inside me.’ These are the first words that I’ve spoken since we started.