Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activities are at least eighteen years of age.
*****
"It's cool, right? We cool here, right?" Ray Richards asked as he pulled his still dripping cock out of Deanne Williams' slimy pussy.
The eighteen year old student giggled as she looked at his white penis and shrugged.
"Yeah, it ain't nothing but a thing," she said.
"So we cool?" he again asked, hurriedly zipping up his trousers.
"Yeah, we cool; you don't want you no blow job?" Deanne asked, wiggling her haunches into her polyester panties.
"Uh no, no, maybe next time, right?" the math teacher asked, even as his cock was growing at the thought of the heavy-set black girl putting his penis into her mouth.
"All right," the girl shrugged, grabbing her purse. "I holler at you later, hear?"
Even as he locked the door to his classroom at Elgee High School in Elgee, Louisiana, Mr. Ray Richards was racked with guilt. Loving wife was at home, stricken with Multiple Sclerosis, bedridden. Their five children did what they could to help but there was so little that could be done.
And, once again, he had been unfaithful so such a loving, devoted, yet ill woman.
Outside of her home on Wabash Street in Elgee, Louisiana, Georgette Sanders was playing Jacks on the sidewalk. Betsy, her best friend in the whole world couldn't come out to play; her mom was very sick and her dad wasn't home yet. Georgette looked again for Mr. Richards' car, but the teacher still wasn't home, so Georgette bounced the ball.
Suddenly, a combat boot stomped on the four jacks on the ground, breaking the plastic pieces.
"You ass hole!" Georgette shrieked at the three laughing twelve year old boys.
"Yeah?" Dan Ragliani sneered, pinching the small blonde girl's face in his hand. "What'd you call me?"
Jason 'Jase' Cruz and Philip Thompson laughed the two white and one black youth high on the three marijuana joints they'd smoked a few minutes ago.
"Want to try fucking with me, tough guy?" Jim, Georgette's older brother asked, shoving Dan hard. "Huh? Big tough guy, picking on little girls? Huh?"
It was three against one, but looking at the well-muscled fifteen year old, Dan, Jase and Philip knew at least one of them would get hurt and hurt bad. So, muttering threats and insults under their breath, the three boys wandered away.
"Sorry, Georgie," Jim comforted his sister. "No way for me to fix them; they're smashed up too much."
Chapter 1
Shortly before graduating from high school, Deanne knew she was pregnant. She had no idea who the father was; there were at least fifteen men and boys to pick and choose from. Of these, though, the only one whose name she could remember with any fondness was Mr. Richards. He didn't demand sex; he asked for it. He didn't expect blow jobs but he always acted real appreciative whenever she would give him one.
And unlike Coach Earl or Mr. Knowles, Mr. Richards would give her a ride home after fucking, if she asked for it.
So when Deanne gave birth to twin girls, she named the first girl Rayanne Penelope Williams. (Mr. Richards had once said that his wife's name was Penelope.) And the second daughter was named Deechard Elisabeth Williams (Mr. Richards had said his only daughter was named Elisabeth.)
Deanne received some assistance during her pregnancy and that amount doubled upon the birth of the girls. On the first of the month, still sore from the strenuous birthing, Deanne walked to St. Ann First National Bank, cashed her assistance check and was never seen again.
Care for the girls fell to their maternal grandmother. She raised them in the two bedroom, one bathroom unit she and Deanne had occupied for the past nineteen years, in Elgee's Water Street Projects.
From birth to puberty, Rayanne and Deechard were identical twins in physical appearance. Rayanne, however seemed to have an inner drive that Deanne, Grandmother, nor Deechard shared. Deechard was content going to Thomas Harris Elementary school and receiving the Cs and Ds given to any child that actually showed up for class. Then she'd play outside with the other children of the crumbling government housing neighborhood.
Rayanne, on the other hand, preferred to stay indoors, studying. When she wasn't studying, she was reading anything she could get her hands on. At breakfast, she even read the cereal boxes.
Grandmother wasn't a bad woman or a lazy one; she just had no ambition and no imagination. Her one vice was Louisiana Lottery scratch-off tickets.
When puberty hit, Rayanne blossomed into a five foot four inch tall girl with a thirty four C chest, twenty six inch waist, and thirty two inch hips. She kept her tightly coiled hair cut short, close to the scalp and loved wearing floral patterns, dresses and skirts.
Deechard ballooned to five feet four inches and two hundred and thirty nine pounds. She let her hair grow out, trying to achieve the dreadlocks of her idol, Whoopee Goldberg. She wore her clothing far too tight, believing, just as her mother, and her grandmother, that she was a beauty.
"Girl, if you got it, show it, know what I'm saying?" Deechard would cackle.
When the girls were seventeen years old, one of the scratch-off tickets paid Grandmother five hundred dollars.
(Rayanne congratulated Grandmother, not pointing out that at $10 a week for the past year alone; Grandmother had spent more than five hundred dollars to win that five hundred dollars.)
Grandmother bought herself a new television and a gaudy necklace that had a large simulated diamond pendant. She wore the gold plated necklace on the outside of her clothing, showing it off proudly.
Deechard and Rayanne were in school when the next door neighbors kicked in the door and slashed Grandmother's throat for the necklace and television and the three large rings Grandmother wore.
Cash for Gold Pawn Shop gave the man and woman the bad news; the necklace and three rings were nothing but gold paint and glass; altogether worthless. But the clerk noticed the dried blood in the chain links and alerted the police while his fellow clerk haggled over how much the man and woman wanted for the television.
While the two neighbors of Rayanne and Deechard's were being arrested for first degree murder, Georgette 'Georgie' Edwards was in Shapes Fitness and Wellness Center, curling a twenty five pound dumbbell in her left hand. She was grateful that a group of women had come together and opened a 'Women Only' facility in Bender, Louisiana. She used to belong to Red's Gym and Fitness Center, which was close to her house, the house she shared with Ronnie, and Ronnie 'RJ' Junior and Sandra, her husband and two children. But at Red's, when she tried to work out, invariably some steroid junkie would either try to impress her by lifting more than she, or would scowl darkly at her.
"I am married," Georgie would snarl at the ones that tried to pick her up.
"Shit, so am I," most of the would-be Lotharios would smirk.
But here at Shapes, Georgie didn't need to worry about macho jerks. And Cindy Broussard-Robichaux, the woman that oversaw the weights room was always there to help.
Georgie switched to her right arm and continued the curls, feeling the satisfying beads of sweat trickling down her torso, trickling in between her forty one B breasts.
A glance at the clock told her she had twenty eight minutes until her massage from Gretchen Dunbar and Georgie flung her long blonde hair out of her eyes, cursing herself for letting Sandra play with her hair scrunchies. No telling where the girl put them.
Suddenly, someone plopped down at the bench across from Georgie, slipping two ten pound weights onto the leg lift bar. The girl, about nineteen, possibly twenty years old, smiled at Georgie, then began to lift the cushioned bar with her left leg first.
Each time the blonde girl brought her leg up, the leg of her baggy shorts gaped open, showing Georgie a tight little slit sparsely framed by blonde tendrils.
Georgie lost count, but the strain in her bicep told her she'd probably exceeded the thirty reps.
With one last look at the little blonde pussy, Georgie signaled to Cindy Broussard-Robichaux that she was going to do her bench presses now.
