The Blues Man

Your man's out prowlin' Baby

Thinks he likes his women tall and thin

Keep your back door open

Cause Baby I'll be comin' in

She sat in the back of the small club listening to these words filtered through a voice that sounded like gravel being poured down a steel chute. He was a big man and the guitar in his hands almost looked like a toy but the sounds that poured from the speakers were anything but childlike. They were raw and rich and spoke of a world of experience she couldn't even begin to imagine. She looked around the club and saw a few other white faces but most of the listeners were black.

She didn't usually hang out in blues clubs but she'd just turned twenty-one and had been seeking a place to celebrate her coming of age. The notice in the paper had caught her eye: "J.B. 'The Blues Man' Thompson, two nights only!" It was a name that brought back memories. Her dad loved J.B.'s music and, when in a blues mood, would play his records over and over. So here she was.

No you don't have to call me

I know your man is gone again

Keep your back door open

And Baby I'll be comin' in

She figured she must have heard "Keep Your Back Door Open" several thousand times. And once, a couple of years ago, her dad, his tongue loosened by wine, had explained to her that the song was referring to anal sex. It kind of grossed her out to have her dad bring up the subject. But now, hearing J.B.'s powerful delivery over the driving rhythm of bass and drums, punctuated by his forceful guitar work, the obvious depth of his experience made her curious. She shifted restively in her chair.

She didn't have a boyfriend. And would just as soon not think about all that. It was her weight, she felt sure; men just didn't see her. Not sexually anyway. She was a pretty face, a buddy, or a sister. Shit! She was here to have a good time, not cry over all the milk that had been spilled in her life. She sipped her screwdriver, the only drink that came to her mind to order when the waitress asked, and decided that once she'd finished this one she would go home.

The set ended and J.B. moved through the audience shaking hands and saying hello. As he passed her table he gave her a look of appreciation and then went up to the bar. Several women, much thinner than she, flitted at his elbow. She emptied her glass and was preparing to rise when he turned, ignoring the women around him, and looked at her again. The waitress came and she ordered another screwdriver.

"Are you enjoying the show?" He asked. His speaking voice sounded as if it had been aged in a charred oak barrel. Up close she could see that the years had poured more salt than pepper into his hair.

"Oh yes, Mr. Thompson. I think it's wonderful."

"Jesus! It's J.B.," he said, "just call me J.B. Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Please do."

He sat and they chatted for a bit. He asked her about herself and seemed genuinely interested in her life. And wished her happy birthday when she mentioned why she was out on the town. He asked about boyfriends and instantly picked up on the feelings of hurt behind her mumbled response. It was a little scary for her to be read so easily by a man she'd only met a few minutes ago. He was calm and gentlemanly but there was something in his eyes that told her he didn't think she was just a pretty face, or a buddy. Most certainly, she was not his sister. The drummer and bass player were back on stage and had started to jam. He excused himself, began to walk toward the stage, and then turned and looked at her. Something in his glance made her realize that he was hoping she would stay. When the waitress came she ordered another screwdriver.

As he launched into his next set she realized she was looking at him with new eyes. She had the feeling, somewhere deep inside her, that this man could very easily become her next lover. She knew it was her choice. And as she watched his powerful fingers roaming with delicate precision over the fretboard of his guitar, the one she'd heard he called "Doreen", she could feel her body saying yes. Oh yes. Oh God yes!

"Are you okay?" She jerked up as she comprehended he was speaking to her.

"I think I dranktoomush," she said, knowing she was slurring her words together. From a distance, filled with cotton balls and blurred images, she heard his full, but not unfriendly, laughter.

"Have you got a way home, girl," he said.

"I druvv. I wanna go home wichew," she tried to enunciate. More laughter.

"I don't really have a home here. But I've got a motel room with a bed big enough for two."

"Thashsoundswonderfl," was her response.

She never could remember getting from the club to a taxicab. She did vaguely remember him telling the cabbie to stop and opening the door as she leaned out and threw up into the street. She could feel his strong fingers holding her and his voice. His warm rough voice telling her it was alright. It was cool.

The next thing she remembered was waking up. She was lying on her side. The wall of a room she'd never seen before in her life was staring her in the face. Someone, and at the moment she couldn't recall who, was making soft snoring sighs behind her. Oh shit! Very cautiously she felt herself. She was naked. Oh shit! Damn! Her head ached as she tried to recollect what might have happened. All she could find was blankness. Oh Jesus Lord! What had awakened her was a bladder that insisted on being emptied. She wished she could shrivel up and disappear. How did she get into this?

Very cautiously she pulled the sheet and blanket back and slid her legs out till her feet touched the floor. She pulled herself up and leaned over, her breasts squashed against her knees, and gazed at the floor. Her head was swirling; her stomach was very unhappy with her. Oh shit! The maid had missed a few spots when she vacuumed. Little bits of grit. "I think I'm in Hell," she thought. Without warning a large hand was on her ass. She jumped.

"Are you okay?" A huge voice rumbled.

"Hmmyeahi'mfine," she said. She turned and found herself gazing into a face she'd seen so often on LP album covers. "Oh shit. Oh God in heaven!" She cried. She was appalled as the memories of the previous evening came stampeding back into her consciousness.

"It's okay. It's cool, Baby." The warm, rough, and familiar voice said. "I didn't take advantage of a poor white girl in distress."

"I'm naked. Where are my clothes?"

"You puked on your dress, honey," the voice from her dad's record library said. "I didn't think you'd want to sleep in it. And once I got your dress off I figured what the hell."

She looked into his eyes. He looked straight back at her. Suddenly she felt calm.

"Thank you," she said.

"Girl, you're more than welcome. Now take that piss like I know you need to."

She laughed as she sat on the toilet and let go. She laughed knowing he could hear her laugh and the flow of her urine. She laughed knowing he accepted all this human stuff and still wanted to fuck her. She laughed because something inside herself felt free.

"Well, look at what the pussy dragged home," she said, posing in front of the bathroom door. Her head throbbed and her tummy was mumbling cuss words.

"Hmmmm. Pussy's an excellent judge of what I like," he said. "But let's get some breakfast first. It's only eleven o'clock and no one's expecting me to be anywhere until eight in the evening or so."

She was somewhat amazed at how free she felt being naked around him. And it touched her deeply to realize that he'd very carefully washed the vomit out of her dress and hung it over the curtain rod, something she'd hadn't noticed while she was peeing. Which wasn't surprising, considering the state she'd been in.

They interacted as if they were they'd been married for many years. She peeked in while he was shaving and enjoyed the sight of his bulky blackness in front of the mirror. He, fully dressed, and talking with one of his music business contacts on the phone, watched her as she slipped into her lingerie and somewhat wrinkled dress.

"Well, I do alright," he said, in response to the question she'd posed at the the breakfast table. "I make a living. I'm no B.B. King but I do alright." Then, with clear seriousness, he said, "I love what I do," he held up his fingers and moved them as if playing a guitar. "And I love to fuck. It works out. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

After they were back in the motel room, the food and a short nap making her feel somewhat back to normal, she felt those fingers playing her as if she were some fine instrument. As if she were Doreen. He traveled effortlessly up the octaves until she was crying out for him to stop. And then it was his cock. She was gazing up into his eyes, eyes it seemed she'd always known, feeling him move inside her as she opened her legs as wide as they'd go. He held himself above her, careful not to overwhelm her with his weight, and slowly slid back and forth. His motions were easy and deliberate and it was obvious to her that he was feeling a great deal of pleasure. She put her hand on his thick arm and marveled at her whiteness against his blackness. He smiled down at her.

"Does it feel good, Baby?" He asked.

"Oh, God yes, J.B." They both looked down to watch his black length sliding between the lips of her sparsely haired pussy. "You're the first black man I've ever been with."

"I'm just a man, girl, not all that much difference."

"We're different colors," she said. "I like seeing the contrast."

"Oh, yeah, there's that. I like it too. I like your body," he said, supporting himself on one hand and reaching out to touch her left breast with the other.

"I'm too fat," she said, her soul shrinking.

"I like your body, like I said," he stated with a bit of an edge. "You've got a beautiful body and some of the sweetest skin I've ever touched."

She wasn't convinced but felt herself relax, though not completely. And then he was moving in her powerfully, the earlier finesse transformed into an exuberant all out physical engagement. His big hands clasped her ass cheeks as he plunged into her. He moaned into her neck, reporting his progress towards orgasm. It excited her. She felt herself pulled along. She felt pleased to be able to give him this. And then they were there. She could feel him coming inside her. And moments later she was crying out to him that her own climax was crashing through her.

He held her, making gentle comforting sounds. Almost as if she were a fearful child. He held her for a long time. Longer than any other man she'd been with. When he finally pulled away she could see a big grin on his face.

"Oh, that was good, Baby. Thank you."

"Thank YOU, J.B.," she said. She touched herself and felt the thick slickness of his semen. Then she reached out and grasped his cock which showed only slight signs of engorgement. "Are we going to be able to do this again?"

He laughed. "Yeah, Baby," he said. "Just give me a little time. I'm not as young as I used to be."

A little over an hour later, after she'd treated him to the loving attention of her mouth and tongue, he was hard once more.

"My back door's open too, J.B.," she said.

He looked at her with his large heavy lidded eyes. "You know what that song's a talkin' about?"

She rolled over on her tummy and wiggled her butt.

He threw his head back and laughed his deep smoky laugh. "Yes, I guess you do." He sat up and opened the drawer next to the bed and pulled out a small bottle of lube.

"Goodness, you came prepared," she said.

"I have a certain reputation to maintain," he growled, and then laughed.

"I want you to do me in my behind but I've never done it before," she said anxiously.

He looked at her. "You want me to be your first?"

She nodded.

He spread her cheeks and stared as if he wanted to see inside her. Then she felt his big tongue tickling her anus. "You've got to relax, girl," he said after a few minutes. "It's not going to feel good unless you relax." Several minutes later he poured lube on her and began opening her up with his finger. Finally, as she felt how gentle and careful he was, her sphincter muscles began to loosen. "Oh yeah, Baby, that's it." He called.

"What would your Daddy think a you havin' a black man's cock in your ass?" He asked, slowly entering her.

"He's got all your records," was her reply. "He was the one who told me 'Keep Your Back Door Open' was about anal sex."

J.B. roared. The bed shook with the force of his laughter. Tears ran down his face. "Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus! Well, he sure raised a sweet girl child."

"Is this the kind of thing a sweet girl child would do? A sweet fat girl child, at that?" She asked, moving her butt against him, a little surprised by the bitterness in her voice.

Suddenly he was dead serious. "Girl, this is as sweet as it gets. Don't put yourself down. You're a beautiful woman, a loving woman. Don't be afraid to shake your ass at the world and make it pay attention. Nobody be thinking you're somethin' till you think you're somethin' yourself."

Several moments later he said, "I'm old enough to be your granddaddy so I know a thing or two." They both laughed at the incongruity of an older man saying this to a young woman he was fucking in the ass.

"Ok Granddad," she said. "I'll remember that."

"You better," he replied, giving her a couple of good hard strokes. "Will this help your memory?"

"Oh yeah. Oh yeah!" She cried, as a kind of orgasm she'd never experienced before flowed through her. Volcanic heat centered around her rectum, flowing like lava through her bowels. "Oh shit! Oh shit!"

"You're gonna make me cum, Baby, you keep yellin' like that," he called in his powerful voice.

"Oh yeah, cum in my ass J. B. Fill me with your hot cum," she moaned. She felt him clench her ass cheeks in his two strong hands and then bury himself.

"Here it comes, Baby! Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus!"

And then, deep within her body, she felt his pulsing. Dim sparks of warmth. But what she felt most were his arms clenching themselves around her, moments later, tight against her breasts, holding her as they both rode the waves of intense pleasure. And his big belly against her back. He held her, just as he had before; it made her realize that when she found her life partner she wanted him to do this.

They rode together to the club where she picked up her car, drove home to take a shower and change her dress, and then drove back to the club. This time she only drank soda. When he finished his last set she took him back to the motel and they made love again.

They said goodbye over breakfast and hugged just before she climbed into her car.

"Now remember, nobody be thinking you're somethin' till you think you're somethin' yourself," were his final words. She repeated them to herself often.

She began to follow his touring through the Internet and the next time he was in town she took her dad and her new boyfriend Earl to see him. He recognized her immediately and between sets came over to sit with them. Earl and her dad were astounded. She told them that the last time J.B. had played here she'd spent a little time with him. Neither man cared to inquire further. She could see that her dad was awestruck to be in the presence of a man he'd admired for so many years and, consequently, a little in awe of his daughter who could hobnob with his idol with such ease. Just before they left J.B. caught her as she was coming out of the ladies room.

"You look happy," he said.

"I am," she smiled.

"Well, you deserve to be. Keep workin' it." He kissed her chastely on the cheek. And then, much less chastely, squeezed her ass.

She walked out into the club to find Earl and her dad. A warm giggle bubbled inside her.