Dear readers:
I hope you enjoy this most recent piece in the 'Michelle' series. Enjoy it, vote for it if you want (I find the vast majority of readers don't give stories a rating), and if you truly like it, make it a 'favorite' – that's the measure that I go on in writing. Comments are (almost) always appreciated.
The story is a complete fabrication, the characters made up, any resemblance to people, living or dead is coincidental.
Flabuf
*****
Michelle, a flame red haired socialite from upstate Connecticut well into her middle years, but with a rocking body, large but not obnoxious breasts, brown eyes, and an unrelenting and, at times, seemingly unnatural, desire to be used.
Part One: The Showing
Michelle knew she was prejudiced, had known it for many, many years but had always tried to compensate for that by being overly attentive to those less fortunate than she. When the yard men came on a weekly basis she would bring out iced tea or, if she knew of a favorite beverage other than alcoholic, she'd make sure she had that in the fridge to share. When movers came, and she moved often, she'd make sandwiches and throw out a spread for them. When her friend Bennie, who loved Miss Michelle as he called her, invited her to his modest home for dinner, she couldn't come without having baked something special for dessert. It's just who she is.
So now, now that she and Robert had parted and her own money was diminished, and she had finally chosen to move to Florida where she'd promised herself she'd move for a long time, it was with great effort that she looked at housing in her price range. It seemed that everything in West Palm Beach that was affordable, even in gated communities, was in a neighborhood dominated by blacks. Blacks playing basketball in the street. Blacks sauntering down the neighborhood with their shorts hanging below their ample buttocks. Blacks riding the streets on bicycles.
'Where is this realtor taking me?' she thought. This isn't what I want to look at. But she persevered. At least her son, James, was with her so she felt somewhat safe as they went to the final house on the list of potential rentals.
This house, over 2800 sq. /ft. and in her price range was still occupied and when Beth, the realtor, rang the bell it was an obese, very black man who answered. Michelle looked at this man, wide as an elephant and no taller than the 5'6" that was her height in flats, and today she was wearing flats.
"Hope you don't mind my staying." He said, his voice higher than Michelle would have expected "My son'll be home soon and I likes to be here when he shows up."
"No, no problem." Beth replied as Michelle's mind was screaming to leave. 'I've had enough – it's time to go back to the hotel and soak in the hot tub' the Embassy Suites had one in her room. Her thoughts were taking over. She really, really wanted to leave.
And this man, reeked. I mean he was as unclean a man as Michelle had met in many, many years. Michelle had an acute sense of smell and this man caused her nose to wrinkle.
'Ok, ok, I'll get through this. I'll get through it.'
As she was thinking, James and Beth had already passed her by and were headed upstairs thinking that Michelle would be right behind them. Michelle, who had on one of her form fitting mini's – the orange one that Robert liked so much, and skimpy 'little boy' panties, wasn't about to go up the stairs with this man watching. No show for him! So, thinking it would be easier for her to wander downstairs she headed for her favorite room in any house – the kitchen.
Lamar followed her in.
"We just redid this kitchen Ms..." He hesitated waiting for her to share her name.
"Michelle, my name is Michelle"
"Yes, ma'am, Ms. Michelle. As I was saying, we just did this here kitchen. Don't she look pretty?"
The truth was that she did like it. They'd done a great job with the counters and fixtures – all higher end and she'd not expected that. It was the faucet that intrigued her most. A top of the line Moen, with a pull down industrial style spray hose that she just had to check out. Dropping it out of its holder she pulled the lever and, much to her surprise the stream shot out explosively and the lever stuck in the 'on' position.
'Shit, shit, shit...' The spray now soaked the counter and she finally had corralled it to the sink as Lamar rushed up behind her and, his girth pressing her to the counter, grabbed her hand with the lever in it and squooze it tighter. Then before he could let it go stopping the flow, Michelle jerked it without thinking and the spray which had been aimed toward the sink was now spraying both her and Lamar while also spraying the kitchen itself. 'Damn!'
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." she blurted now slightly recovered, the spray having stopped but the kitchen now covered in the sprayed water. Her face and hair were wet as was the white blouse she was wearing, the cloth clinging to her breasts and the demibra she loved wearing. She shook her head as if to say 'What next?' but, before she could truly ask that question she heard Lamar's laughter.
Lamar had an infectious laugh and Michelle couldn't help herself but to start laughing as well. Seeing a hand towel she grabbed it quickly and started to dry Lamar off. This was vintage Michelle, helping others before helping herself.
She dried his face, his bulbous neck, dried his arms which were adorned by a short-sleeved dress shirt, and, seeing that his shirt had become unbuttoned and untucked, his ample belly. It was hard not to notice, under that belt which could easily have wrapped around Michelle 3 times, Lamar's bulge.
'Oh my...'
Lamar, for his part, was enjoying the spectacle in front of him. Watching Michelle's face, intense as she was drying his own and his various soaked appendages, and the nearly transparent top which promised full breasts, her nipples now hard as pebbles underneath the cloth and thin bra. When she'd dropped down to dry off his belly it was hard not to notice Michelle's deep cleavage which jiggled as she dried him off. He wondered briefly what it would be like to have this vision of a woman deep throating his member and, just as he was about to grab her head in his massive hands, she looked up at him questioningly as if to ask... 'Am I done?'
Not even thinking Lamar reached down and pulled down his zipper. "Ma'am... I think there's a little more you could do." And, as he did this his aroma hit her.
The smell of a man's crotch had always been a turn on for Michelle. She didn't understand it, couldn't do anything about it, and became almost helpless when that particular aroma hit her. It was as if it were a sensory 'roofie' and a man who found this out about her could do practically anything he wanted with her.
Sensing something but not knowing just what was going on with this gorgeous redhead now on her knees, her face inches away from his now rising cock he said "Why don't you try a little harder?"
Knowing what he meant Michelle reached in the space between the zipper and found Lamar's cock bent downward but becoming engorged. She loved this stage of a man's cock – not totally hard, but not soft either. It was as if it were waiting for her to finish the job. Her hand reached below his cock and she felt what she thought were the biggest, wire haired balls she'd ever felt. Holding them briefly and massaging them her mind wandered. She felt the weight of his cock on top of her hand and shifting wrapped her thin fingers around his member which she then recognized as thick and meaty. 'Meaty. There's a word.' She thought. 'Meaty'... and she untucked it and deftly pulled it forward out of Lamar's khaki's. By now Lamar had his hands on the back of Michelle's head and, before she could really see what she'd unleashed, was pulling her forward and it was quickly in her mouth filling it with its girth.
This was not a session of 'love making', there was no soft kiss, no tongue tracing the veins of his cock as she eyed the length and enjoyed the sight of it. No, this was face fucking. Lamar was pounding himself, all 5 ½ inches into her mouth rapidly, just reaching the point where, were he just another inch longer, she'd have gagged. For Lamar's part he just wanted to get his rocks off before the Realty lady and Michelle's son came back downstairs.
'Unh, unh, unh...' and before she knew it she could feel his cock pumping, his hands were pulling her head toward him with full force, her face and nose in the skin of his belly and pubic hair which scratched her face like sandpaper. Michelle had no choice but to swallow. Her lips were pulled taut around his cock, her cheeks sunken as she sucked his semen into her throat and then her belly.
His grip loosened and her head backed up slightly. Still sucking on him, now by instinct more than anything else she raised her hand and milked the last drops from his now softening dick. She could feel it becoming softer as she sucked, her lips now not met with hardness but a more marshmallow feel with the hardness just beneath it. Still she sucked. Pulling backward she noticed that he was also uncut.
Michelle had been with only one other man with an uncut cock and it was something that she did not particularly care for. But now she was faced with this, the head of a Coke can sized cock covered slightly by the man's foreskin. Dark brown, she noticed the color, shape, pee hole, and foreskin which were only inches from her face, wet with her saliva and his cum, and she was now mesmerized pulling the foreskin back and forth over the head. She put her lips over the head of Lamar's cock and continued stroking it feeling the skin first pressing against her lips and then gone. She pushed her tongue onto his pee hole, digging in as far as it would go and then... she pressed her own head forward sucking his entire softened length in her wide open mouth and sucked, her cheeks inverting as she pulled the last drops of his orgasm into her mouth.
'Mmmmm...'
"Mom! You coming up?" James called.
Quickly she backed away from Lamar's cock, tucked his now soft cock into his khaki's and pulled the zipper up. "Yes... just a minute. We had a little accident in the kitchen."
Standing now, her blouse still damp but not as wet as it was. "Thank you." 'Why am I saying 'Thank you' to him?'
Lamar, for his part, just smiled at Michelle, adjusted himself through his pants, and said "Yo're sure welcome Miss Michelle."
Part two:
The Call
"Miss Michelle?" the question one of a man who already knew but a typical greeting when one wasn't positive.
