Starters Only

My Initial Transgression continued…

Safely back with the other teachers, questions about my extended absence quickly ensued. “I ran into Darnell after visiting the ladies room,” I found myself easily explaining. “And I’m afraid I lost track of time discussing his performance in my class.” Darnell’s grades weren’t exactly up to par, but they weren’t abysmal, either. He was a highly intelligent student—despite his propensity to play the street thug around his peers; one with great promise, but he had yet to recognize his tremendous potential.

The teacher I had been sitting beside—my closet friend in Summerset, the High School librarian, Lilith, arched an eyebrow and appraised the rumpled front of my dress, but made no comment. A few minutes later, I clutched at my stomach and moaned, “I don’t feel very well. My stomach is doing some very disturbing flip-flops.”

“Could be from any one of those three hotdogs you wolfed down before halftime,” one of the male teachers chortled. “Or, from something else you may have swallow recently,” Lilith added in a catty tone of voice.

Behind her horn-rimmed, Coke-bottle glasses, I’m almost certain I detected a “Is that how you lost all track of time, Diane; by swallowing something our hunky D’bone gave you?” look in the prim and proper librarian’s inquisitive blue eyes. I dismissed the suspicious look as nothing more then her taking a harmless friend-to-friend snipe at me. I believed that I had sufficiently covered my tracks by stopping in the ladies restroom on the way to the bleachers and checked myself in the steel mirror to make sure there was no tell-tail residue of Darnell’s cum on my lips or chin, and the front of my dress being rumpled was merely an indication the we were at a college football game, being jostled about by enthusiastic students. Lilith had nothing substantial to go on and if she had convinced herself that there might be something more “sinister” to my entirely plausible explanation, she was free to think whatever she liked… just as long as she couldn’t prove any of it.

“It must have been one of the hotdogs,” I groaned a moment later and, as if I was having cramps, rose unsteadily to my feet. “I think I’m going home and straight to bed.”

“Try hot tea with honey, Diane,” one of the other teachers suggested. “Lacing it with a stiff shot of brandy always works for me,” another offered.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied with a feigned weak smile as I worked my way down the bleachers. “Both suggestions.”

My car was parked way over in teacher’s parking lot, so I fast-footed it across the campus and only barely restrained my urge to tromp down on the gas peddle and race for home. Peeling out, I believe it was once called. Or, was it laying rubber?

I had to laugh at this last euphemism. Rubber, or rather rubbers, (i.e. condoms) had never been a part of my sex life. You see, I am barren; my fully functional Fallopian tubes, it seems, are incapable of producing even one receptive egg. No receptive eggs, no opportunity to become pregnant. A sad thing for a woman, you might say, and you could very well be right. But I see it differently. I enjoy teaching children, but I don’t think I would enjoy bearing and raising one. Actually, it’s probably a damned good thing that I am incapable of conceiving; given the amount of hot, young, viral cum that’s been pumped into my willing slut cunt from hard black cocks since blowing D’bone that night in the guy’s locker room; I would never be—to put it in a cockeyed way—not knocked up.

On the way home I took one of the helpful teacher’s suggestions to heart by stopping at a liquor store and purchasing a bottle of good brandy. I then added a twelve-pack of beer. A young lad like Darnell might not appreciate sharing a snifter of expensive, properly warmed brandy, but it was better than even money that “hard case” D’bone surely wouldn’t refuse a cold beer. Especially if I offered it to him on my knees, with his hard black cock staring me in the face.

Pulling away from the liquor store, I realized that I had just compounded my past, as well as my intended future transgressions. I was not only going to further corrupt, basically, still a minor’s morals (Like D’bone’s morals needed any help being corrupted.), but I was also going to willfully supply malt liquor to same said minor. Just how easily the mantle of a conniving white slut for black cock was wrapping itself around me was mind-boggling. But I didn’t care one wit… not even a little-bitty wit.

The possible “major obstacle” to what I wanted to continue exploring was, thankfully, not even a speed bump; Edwin’s car was not in the attached garage when I arrived home. Nor was it parked out on the street, as he is prone to doing when he either forgets to take along the garage door opener, or can’t recall the security code that has to be entered into it before it’ll tell the opening mechanism to please raise the damn door.

I put the beer in the fridge, the brandy on the kitchen counter and took two snifters from the rack…just in case. I deposited my keys and purse on the small phone table at the foot of the stairs and noticed that the red light on the recorder was flashing. There was only one message; Edwin calling to inform me not to worry, that he was staying over at his conference to attend a couple of lectures and wouldn’t be flying home until Tuesday or Wednesday. ‘Oh, goodie!’ I sang inside my head as I rushed up the stairs to the bedroom. ‘How convenient and how delightfully wonderful’. This being a Friday night, that meant that I had our house (and the king-sized bed) all to myself for two whole days and at least three nights.

Well, not entirely alone. It was well already past 8:00 and, if he was prompt, D’bone would be joining me in less than forty-five minutes. Also, if the gods of lust granted fervent wishes, I wouldn’t be the only thing getting a good workout, the king-sized bed was in for a mattress test like it had never been given at the factory. Anywhere that D’bone wanted to use that big, powerful, young black cock of his on me was now “officially” open for business. To borrow a dark phrase from the Vietnam Era; the entire house was going to be a free fire zone. In any room of the house, on top of any piece of furniture, out on the cold cement floor of the garage if that’s were he wanted to lay my naked ass on was open territory and D-none could fire his powerful black weapon at me or inside of me all he wanted… and with virtual impunity. Including on top of the big ol’ cherry wood desk in Edwin’s study.

And wouldn’t that be a royal hoot; Edwin’s drab white wife being fucked out of her mind—on top of his expensive antique desk—by a young black football player with a big, black, young cock. A real cock. A real “fucking” cock, that was three times my husband’s pitiful size and unloaded at least double the cum in just one powerful jet then Edwin had ever deposited inside me in one complete orgasm.

I considered taking a quick shower, but decided it would be pointless. If things went as I hoped they would, I would be splattered head to toe with D’bone slimy cum long before the sun came up. I could always shower in the morning, or D’bone and I could shower together. The image of Darnell standing in front of me in the shower stall like a majestic young conqueror, his lathe black body all slippery and foamy with my rose scent soap, demanding that his prize kneel and pay proper homage to his raging black hardon had me shaking uncontrollably before my whirling mind had even completed forming that lewdly romantic scenario.

Of course, that lewd scenario could only take place if Darnell not only wanted to, but also would be allowed to spend the night with me. That little bird that lives in all of us whispered in my ear that D’bone was the sort to do as he wished, when he wished, and for as long as he wished. Even though he was a freshman in college, Darnell still lived at home, not in a Summerset dorm room, where he would have the freedom to come and go as he pleased, so if, by chance, Darnell wasn’t that “Do my own thing” sort of young man (extremely unlikely) then D’bone surly would have provided his parents with the standard teenage lie that he would be staying at a friend’s house after the game for a party before taking a pre-paid taxi riding over here to take this horny white teacher the way she needed to be taken—like a nasty slut who couldn’t wait to be taken and used repeatedly by his strong black cock.

I kicked off my shoes and across the wide expanse of my soon-to-be-ravaged-in bed, I watched the lucky slut in the mirror above my dresser going through the contortions necessary to unzip the back of her dress by herself and thought, ‘I asked D’bone to dress appropriately, so I should do no less for him’. The dress puddled around my bare feet and I was stripped completely naked in a matter of seconds. I tossed my plain teacher’s clothes in the corner and crawled across the bed to the dresser. I dug to the bottom of my lingerie drawer for the translucent, smoky-black, floor-length silk negligee, with its daringly plunging, spider web bodice and the matching crotchless panties, that Edwin had never even seen, let alone seen me attired in.

With the negligee on, I stepped into the panties and slowly drew them up over my goose-pimpled ass. I then reached down and into the obscenely open crotch of the panties and plunged two fingers up inside of me. God! I was wet. So wet that I should be able to take every last glorious centimeter of D’bone’s big black cock with no problem. Or, so I naively thought at the time.

I was ready for my young black lover, but I still needed an all’s clear signal; one that he wouldn’t be able to mistake for me being ready, willing and able, and oh so impatiently waiting for more, and more, and even more of his black cock. I wanted to drain his black balls and, as quickly as they could refill, drain them some more. I was already wet between my legs, but I wanted to be wet all over, from my copious vaginal secretions and D’bone’s big loads of hot, slimy cum.

In a flash of horny inspiration, I had the absolute perfect signal flag. I went over to the pile of discarded plain clothes and dug the pair of plain white cotton panties that I had snugged up tight against my pussy when I had risen from the toilet. They were still wet from my pussy secretions, and also from our nasty impromptu pee-fest.

I applied some red lipstick to my pale lips and brushed out my dry hair in the mirror, then dabbed some perfume under my arms, along both sides of my throat, underneath each breast and very lightly brushed a couple of drops into my thick pubic hair. I turned down the bed and adjusted the low-wattage bed lamps even lower—casting the bedroom into in dark shadows with only the top two thirds of the big bed illuminated by two pools of warm light. Satisfied that my bedroom (at least as far as the big king sized bed and romantic lighting were concerned) was ready for “company”, I glanced down at my nightstand. The LED clock beside the antique French phone read 8:58. Time wasn’t simply running on the fast track toward my continued debauchery with one of my black students, it was damned near up.

I raced out of the bedroom, damn near twisted an ankle on the stairs, but still managed to yank the kitchen drapes closed in my limping dash to the garage. The outside security light above the backdoor was still on. I turned off the garage light—so I wouldn’t be backlit—opened the door and waved my lurid signal flag. I flicked the outside light off, then right back on and waved my panty signal again. I shut off the outside light and waited impatiently, my eyes straining into the inky darkness of the backyard for any sign that D’bone had been waiting just as impatiently on the other side of the back gate for my “All’s clear, get your black ass in here” signal.

D’bone scared the life out of me when he suddenly appeared in front of me. I had wanted the backyard to be dark in order to conceal his approach to the house, but I hadn’t expected it to be quite that concealing… especially from me, since I had been looking for any movement out there. Apparently, with his black skin, and the appropriate way he was attired, he had melded into the night like an ominous dark specter.

As I gathered my startled wits, I breathed a silent ‘Thank you’. There wasn’t much of a chance that anyone had seen a black student approach a white teacher’s house, let alone enter it, “And her standing there like a brazen hussy in her shameless nightie, holding the back door open for this black boy… with her husband so conveniently out of town”. In such all-concealing darkness surely there wasn’t a scintilla of chance that any of my neighbors had seen any of that happen. I sincerely hoped not.

I closed and bolted the door, then literally pulled D’bone into the kitchen. I locked the connecting door to the garage and threw the deadbolt, then slowly turned around. “Like my gift wrapping?” I inquired in a throaty voice as I suggestively ran my hands over my smallish breast, across my quivering belly, and down along my bony hips.

“Diane,” D’bone answered, “you come gift wrapped like one sexy slut. No doubt ‘bout it.” He emitted a low, appreciative wolf whistle and looked me up and down. “You were right, there was no way I could mistake that all clear signal.” He nodded at the panties still clenched in my fist. “Same ones I pulled down ‘fore I pissed on your pussy?”

I held them under his nose and smiled. “Smell for yourself.”

D’bone took them from me, inhaled the wet scent of my pussy in the crotch, then shoved them in the pocket of the midnight-blue warm up pants he was wearing. Along with the loose-fitting polyester pants, he was wearing his black football jersey with the dark blue lettering and black running shoes. That same little intuitive birdie told me that I would enjoy unwrapping him at least as much, if not more, then I was going to enjoy him unwrapping me, or me unwrapping myself for him. “Oh, by the way,” I inquired, making a little early party chit-chat, “did we win the game?”

“48 to 3,” D’bone proudly informed me. “Rest of the guys kicked their sorry asses right off the field, and our second string played most of the third and all of the fourth quarter.”

I took the sides of my negligee in my fingers and curtsied. “In that case, welcome to this slut’s private victory celebration.”

D’bone grinned. “To the victor goes the spoils,” he misquoted and stepped toward me.

I placed my hand against his chest and hoped I’d be able to stand my ground. Being older than him, and also being one of his teachers, might not count for anything if D’bone decided to push things. I was an inch or two taller than him, but he outweighed me by ten or fifteen hard-muscled pounds, and with his youth and athletic strength, if D’bone wanted to slam me up against the wall and rape me, there wouldn’t be a hell of a lot I wouldn’t be able to do to stop him. Not that I would have even attempted to stop him from taking me up against the kitchen wall. That sort of demanding sex was what I was sorely in the mood for… and all of it could get from sexy D’bone.

“I have just one question first, D’bone,” I said, then quickly added, ‘before this goes any further,” when I saw his eyes narrow. You know how young men in heat can be; so impetuous, impatient, and therefore unpredictable. Well, that made two of us standing in my kitchen, and there was no questioning that, as soon as I removed my restraining hand away from his chest, things were going to severely get out hand, that was a given, and we both knew it. I simply wanted to know what sort of timeline we had to work with. “Do you have to be home at any specific time?” Just how severely far out of hand things got would depend entirely on how much choice D’bone would give me in the matter. “Your mother won’t mind you being out late, will she?”

“That’s actually two questions, Diane,’ D’bone pointed out. “But, to answer both of them, I called my mother and told her a bunch of us were gonna celebrate the win with a campout at the lake and not to expect me home until late sometime Sunday night.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. D’bone was a “Do my own thing” sort of young man, and since he was here with me, and not home with his mother, a convincing liar, as well. “What about your father? Any chance he might take a drive out to the lake to check and see just how much ‘no good’ you and the guys are up to?”

A mischievous laugh came out of D’bone’s mouth. “If he did, he’d find our usual campsite empty. One of the cheerleader’s parents have a cabin round the other side of the lake. Her parents are out of town, so the guys I hang, and a couple of the other cheerleaders, are gonna spend the weekend there with her. Victory celebratin’, if you get my meanin’?”

I got the meaning, all right, and having learned earlier that Julie was solely into black jocks, it would probably be her parent’s cabin where that libidinous victory celebration would be taking place. I wondered who the other lucky cheerleaders were going to be.

With the time frame now established at sometime Sunday night, I molded my body to my personal celebration party favor’s and wrapped my arms around his neck. My eyes bored into his with unmistakable passion. “How about a big ol’ wet victory kiss for your very own party slut, D’bone?”

For a young man, D’bone knew how to kiss a woman in heat. Good God! Could he kiss. My mouth opened to him a nano-second after our lips met and his tongue wasted no time invading it. I twirled my own tongue around his until I felt his cock respond to this, then I sucked his probing tongue like I had sucked off his hard, young black cock only hours before; with an escalating hunger. D’bone’s cock became harder and harder against my pubis and I ground my pussy into it.

After our passionate French kiss wetly broke apart (no more than 2 or 3 minutes, I’m sure, but it felt like eons to me) D’bone stepped back and scowled at me. “That the only way a white party slut should welcome her black-cocked hero to her private party?”

“Nooo, D’bone,” I cooed and dropped to my knees before him. I reached up and slipped my fingers inside the waistband of his pants and slowly tugged them down, expecting at any second that his hard black cock would leap out and slap me in the face, only it didn’t. And, when I had gotten his pants down past his knees, I saw the reason why that black cock love tap hadn’t taken place. I giggled like a schoolgirl; D’bone had worn his athletic supporter to our private party.

He snickered. “Thought a black jock slut like you’d like that added frill.”

“Ohhhhh, I do, D’bone,” I fawned and lightly tapped the bulging front of his jockstrap with my knuckle. “No cup.”

“Damned thing’s uncomfortable as hell. I didn’t have to protect my balls out on the field, I wouldn’t wear the damned thing. Too fucking confining for jocks with real cocks.”

And D’bone definitely had a real cock, a nice young black cock, so nice and hard, throbbing so powerfully against my palm. The time was decidedly at hand for D’bone’s demanding cock to be released from the too confining jockstrap. I took firm hold of the jockstrap’s elastic waistband, pulled it away from his flat stomach, then down and tucked it in beneath his big black balls. “And we certainly don’t want anything bad happening to these,” I said, cupping those cum-filled balls and gently kneading them.

I lifted my eyes to his face and softly asked, “Is this another way a proper white party slut should welcome her black-cocked football hero?” With my eyes holding his, I leaned in and skinned the remaining foreskin back with my tightly pursed red lips before closing my burgeoning white slut mouth properly around the angry purple head of his hard black cock and hummed. “Mmmmmmm Mmmmm.”