The Shoplifter Chapter Four
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Once I was safely in the Mustang and on my way home. My mind went into overtime. I kept going over and over my mind-boggling circumstances. I had such a challenge coming to grips with all that had happened to me. I had traveled from a cute virgin to a tramp in such a short time. How does a very attractive, good, eighteen year old girl, commit felony shoplifting, have sex with a big black guy to avoid jail, get pregnant; and then explain to herself the turn on—the undeniable, erotic, exciting, turn on that start in her womb and moves up through her breasts so often now; particularly, in a situation like just happened with that security guard back there?
My previous life had been described as boring, but that was no longer the case for sure.
My conversation with Jamal had been very gratifying. He recognized we were partners in this. This was our problem and we needed one another to handle it. What he didn’t recognize was that I need him in more ways than just that one. Already, my breasts and lower body were responding just thinking of him. When these erotic responses first started shortly after the event I fought them. I only wanted to negatives with the horrible events in Mallmart that day. But recently I had begun to deal with reality. I had to admit the sensual feelings that come over me whenever I thought about him. He was enormous. He had gotten me good the very first time. He was my partner and he was all I had in this.
Beyond all that I had to deal with mixed feelings about Bobby’s confession. Up front his confession served to tell me he was nothing but a bum—a bum who had used my horrible circumstance for his pleasure. Yet even this could also turn into conflicting erotic thoughts. Why? Why had he done this to me? He was a lying, cheating pimp who had practically sealed my doom. Yet memory of those events as well could cloud my mind with fetish if I gave them half a chance.
Then there was the confusing “other” factor Bobby kept throwing into my confusion. Right from the beginning he had taken the moral high road regarding the baby. He really seemed to want me to continue with the pregnancy. He kept offering me support if that is what I would do.
As I drove my mind just continued to wind up into a swirl.
Every word the guard had just said as I walked out through that store still rang in my ears. He had my body shuddering so violently that after he disappeared down the aisle, I had to stop and act like I was looking at a pillow display before I was stable enough to walk on. He knew I was Bobby’s whore.
As I had continued toward the exit after that first guard left me alone, three more black guys in blue shirts greeted me by name and each time my body responded the same. They knew as well.
I was well known at Mallmart. The events at Bobbies must have spread like wildfire in the stock room. I was certain each one of them knew the story. A certain sexual chill passed up through me as I drove. My life was a nightmare, but no longer boring for sure.
I kept thinking about all the meaningless times I had wandered through the mall with the amigos trying to entice the high school boys. We tortured them for a cheap thrill, knowing none of them would ever get close to us. In our boring world that cheap thrill was intense entertainment. Was it that same erotic thrill that now had gone absolutely viral in my body? I was in such trouble, but something about it was driving me out of my mind wild.
The ride home turned more and more scary. Being alone in the car had let strange things worm there way in. I was undoubted the main topic of conversation with the men at Mallmart. What happened to me was a juicy, erotic, gossip story that was spreading everywhere. By going back to the store I had confirmed everything and added fuel to the fire.
Why was I turned on thinking about all the shit they would be saying about me? This pregnancy created massive terror for me, but was it also created an erotic circumstance for all that knew about it and that could take complete control of my mind.
When I stopped at a red light I looked down in my lap. This dress was so bad; it came down over my knees. I looked like a little old lady in this Mustang. An irrepressible urge caused me to move my skirt upward until my legs were on full display. I watched the expression on the guy in the car beside me, and another corporeal tremor passed upward.
The front of my dress was damp completely to my waist. There was nothing I could do to stop the flow; how worrisome, how erotic. What was coming over me? One thing after another rattled uncontrolled through my head. This dress was baggy, but very light weight. It surely told the men of Mallmart way too much about my condition.
This time, I was coming home from Mallmart with panties on. To my mixed up mind that was not the way a pregnant whore should have departed the scene of the crime. At the next red light I took care of that. Someone will find them. They were almost new, but now my lower body felt exposed like my mind expected it too.
I shook all over. Was I going crazy? Had all this finally become too much for one girl to process?
Two wild thoughts came over me. First, I should call Kyle, have a date with him, and give him the treat he has wanted for so long. He had tried so hard for months to get what I had given away to stay out of jail. Kyle spent a lot of money on our dates, he is leaving for college; he certainly can do no harm now. Something about that last thought caused me to look down at my tummy.
Another thought; I am going to call Jamal back right away and set up a time to get together as soon as possible. I needed him closely involved in several different ways right now and not just his advice and support.
It was just eleven thirty when this pregnant girl got back home. What a morning. During the last two miles my mind had been occupied recalculating the days. Why did I insist on doing that? When do you start the clock on a pregnancy; from your last period or when he gets you? Well does it matter? It’s got to be over ten weeks either way.
When I arrived home, I sat in the drive. I knew no one was home. I was supposed to be gone as well.
I just sat in my car trying to control outrageous confused erotic thoughts and desires which had taken control of me again. This whole thing had been so madding. This Bobby was the lowest form of life. To do this to me; to make me a whore, to exploit my condition for his profit while using up all my valuable time, was the lowest thing he could do. Yet he had lit indescribable fires in me.
On the other hand it was Jamal who fucked me. He was the real culprit that got me. I should be so angry at him.
Yet I was the shoplifter who started the whole thing. It all was my own damn fault.
Rather than running, Jamal had become my worried partner trying to find a solution that would work. He had really stepped up. He had put together the best offers he could think of. Offers that required he take responsibility and share in this.
But in doing this he had created another real complication. He had been honest with himself and with me. At his age, I was most likely carrying his only possibility for a child…half my white egg, half his very black sperm. The thought of this responsibility brought tears to my eyes.
The next two hours I can never explain nor do I want to try. I moved through the house like a zombie. I was overcome by an outrageous strong force, like a moth to a flame. I needed Jamal, I needed his touch, I needed to know so much more about him, I needed some level of comfort, or predictability, which I did not have in the hollow scary world.
Looking back I think all the stress and confusion had won. I had completely lost it.
I went through my closet like a wild girl. White new panties, white little thin bra, the shortest white pleated skirt and a white short sleeved sweater top made up my outfit. Everything was so tight. I bulged out around the bra; and the skirt was held in place only with the little white belt. There was no way to button it. I spun in front of my full length mirror. Oh my; the very best of my pregnancy was on full display. I was hiding absolutely nothing. I threw the baggy dress in the hamper and went down to find lunch.
Cheese, cracker and a coke made up my lunch. I felt so alone in all this. Jamal was my only port in this storm.
I put Jamal’s address into my GPs and headed out. I just had to see how he lived. 1466 High Bluff Court was exactly sixteen miles and twenty minutes away. The only rational thought I had was at least by snooping I would be prepared to meet him for our conversation. But why had I dressed this way? Was it just a mental revolt against any possibility of having Jamal’s baby?
Looking back, there really was nothing logical about what I was doing; I was simply overcome with sexual energy. This was a clear attempt to advertise my condition to whoever saw me. In part, I am sure it was created by being pregnant, but the circumstances of the trip to Mallmart today contributed immensely; the Jamal meeting, the scrutiny on the way out, the driver in other car, my panties on the road.
My mind was in overload and this drive, dressed this way, offered nothing except more time to drive myself wild.
I finally arrived in Jamal’s neighborhood. He was clearly doing well. His condo was new, on a nice open street where I saw nothing but white neighbors. The area was tree lined with very attractive parks and walkways. He was living very urban. I wondered how long he had been here and where he had lived before. There would be nothing scary about coming here to meet him. This guy was for real. I felt relieved.
There was nothing more to do. I headed down his street turned toward home.
Then out of nowhere my right hand reached to the GPS and brought up 2247 West Branch. Maybe I needed to see the contrast; maybe I had to acknowledge my hatred and so many unanswered questions. Everything about Bobby was such a scary hateful contrast to Jamal.
It was twelve miles away as I turned in toward the city. My mind went on automatic.
I had never known a black guy until this summer and now I was deeply involved and trying to understand two of them.
One was stern, complicated and serious and I was pregnant by him. He understood me and the world I lived in. He wanted only the best for me, but there was no way he could participate in my world.
The other was so hateful. He was a lying, cheating, pimp. He had tricked me, used me, and humiliated me. He had stolen well over a month of valuable days with false hopes and promises all for his financial benefit and entertainment. He knew nothing about me or my goals in life. Yet he had taken me to sexual places I never dreamed existed. My body would never forget him.
The memory of his white teeth contrasted against his very black face as he skillfully manipulated me. All it took was his tug, his pull, and then his grin and he had me. I would then do anything he wanted.
The hood looked much different in the daylight; worse. Junk everywhere. I pulled down the street slowly. I was so aware that my new blue Mustang really was a contrast and was easily recognized by every black ghetto guy hanging around the street corners.
Bobby’s place really stood out. It was by far the best kept and brightest building on the street. This neighborhood was as foreign to my life as the furthest third world country. Poverty, drugs, guns, violence; this neighborhood was on the news every night.
What was I doing here? There were so many unanswered questions. What was this strange erotic empty feeling? I actually looked down into my lap as I moved slowly down his street. Wow, my tummy wasn’t empty for sure. This tight short skirt really emphasized my condition.
Suddenly, I came out of my deep thoughts, aware I had been driving slower and slower; I really had no place to go except to drive by Bobby’s and return home. I just needed to see it; to deal with the reality of what this black snake had done to me; to somehow come to grips with how he stolen vital time and really complicated things for Jamal and me.
I went by his place. I had not noticed the porch in the front before. I turned in the alley at the end of his street and headed back; just one more pass, and I would keep going. My home had become very unsettling and boring, but this was too scary. An adventure I did not need.
Suddenly, in the midst of this junky neighborhood, a strange sense of belonging came over me. I had been completely pimped by this black asshole, who was the dominate male in this hood. He owed me big time. I had nothing to fear. I was pregnant by this other big black guy. This place owed me so much, I owned this place. I was consumed by a wild desire as I turned into Bobbies’ drive and pulled right through to the back of the house. I shut the engine off and sat there. What in the world was I doing?
The back door of the house slammed and my entire driver’s door window was overshadowed by Bobby. I rolled the window down.
He was laughing,
“You came to see me—me of all people!”
He laughed loudly,
“Well that’s really no surprise, girl. I knew you’d show up, it was just a matter of when. I thought it might take a day or two.
What a phone call I got from that fuckin Jamal. He was pissed off royal. He is some kind of a self righteous ignorant asshole. He sure the fuck don’t understand what make a white girl tick.
Well, we understand, don’t we? You’re welcome home girl. Come on inside for some of Bobby’s iced tea. We got a little tea party going on.”
Somehow as he spoke a little reality crept back into my crazy mind. What in the world was I doing here? How could I have found a more dangerous place to go?
I was reaching for the ignition just as he opened the door and took my hand from the wheel. He pulled me toward him and I swung my legs out together, fully aware that my skirt was indecently short and revealing. As I turned he took both my hands and lifted me up from the seat into his arms. He stood wrapped his arms around me and stood there looking down into my eyes,
“I knew from the very beginning you were caught up in the game, honey. I knew it that day when I came over and “met” you. I tried to tell that big ape Jamal you were, but he wouldn’t listen. He is so pissed because he’s so righteous—and he’s scared cause he’s the one that fucked you and got you all knocked up.
I told him you knew fuckin well what might happen when you fucked him in the first place. You got that white girl itch real bad. You shoplifted cause you got the itched—you fucked when you got caught cause you got the itched and you knew fucking well what was going on when you came here, but you were funning with it cause you still had the itch and being knocked up feels so good when you itch, right?
Ya see I know how you white girl’s think. I know your wild ass inner needs. I knew right from the start when you fucked me good in the office that day, you loved the game. You need what you get from black dicks. Now I got a whole bunch of niggers who all know the same thing. They all know you have the wild white girl’s need real bad. They all come hanging our here wondering when you’re coming back.
You come on in here and get some tea.”
He was grinning ear to ear as he took my forearm and led me up the steps into the house. He went directly through the porch area to the front room where there were at least six black guys lying around on big pillows, drinking and smoking. Even though it was mid day the room was dark. Scary!
Bobby whispered in my ear,
“Look at this lover you interrupted one of my afternoon parties.”
The guys were all black, older and appeared stoned. They turned toward the door as we appeared.
Bobby stopped there and explained in a whisper,
“Most every day some of these niggers come by. I supply the weed and the booze and later the ladies when they have the big desire. You sure welcome here at Bobby’s. Let me show you just how welcome you really are.”
With that, Bobby moved behind me, took my elbows, and moved me to the middle of the room as he had done before when I was here. Even though it was daylight, the room was dark with heavy drapes closed across the windows. There was an unforgettable sweet odor.
Lou Rawls music was playing somewhere in the background. How could it be that he was playing the same damn music?
This was such a conflict for me. I was where I certainly did not belong, but I seemed powerless to leave. I shuddered with indescribable sexuality as he turned me in front of these men. He knew exactly what he was doing with me—he was putting me on display for their entertainment; and he knew exactly what he was doing to me—driving me wild.
The light was subdued enough that I had trouble seeing the men on the floor. I could tell they were black that was about all.
I glance down. My breasts were big enough to begin with but they were emphasized by the position in which Bobby held arms. My tummy was so obvious. The short white skirt was way short and so white it glowed in the semidarkness.
Step by step he moved me across the room keeping me in front of him. We finally ended up way to close to them. They were all looking up at me from the floor. From that angle, I was certain they could see the triangle of my white panties.
After we finally stopped one of the men struggled to his feet and came staggering toward us. My all white outfit almost glowed in the semidarkness. A shudder passed through me. Bobby held me facing this guy. As he approached Bobby brought my elbows back further and further, exaggerating my posture.
As the guy got closer Bobby looped his right arm across my back and around my waist such as to pin both my arms back with the one hand. His free hand came in front of me to unbutton the top of my blouse.
This stranger from the floor got bigger and blacker as he moved toward me in the semi-darkness.
Bobbie applied pressure which moved me a couple steps forward all the time grinning ear to ear,
“What to do think of this sweet thing, nigger? This is Caroline; she’s new sugar here at Bobby’s. Ain’t she special?”
As he introduced me he moved my arms back even further, accentuating my breasts. Dampness was flowing from my breasts and my sex. The world was spinning.
I was overcome with strange, powerful, erotic, sexual energy. For a short while I had reprieve from all that tortured me. I was out of my mind with pure erotic sexual energy.
The black guy stopped right in front of me and lifted my top. With my arms pinned backward, I was defenseless.
He held my blouse up, examining me up and down.
“Your right Bobby; this is one fine girl. She looks so sweet! It looks like she all knocked up—looks like she got it real young.”
He fondled my right breast through my thin bra for a moment and then brought his mouth down to it. I heard Bobby behind me laughing,
“She a bit bound up there for a good taste test, don’t you think?”
With his free hand Bobbie reached down and lifted my top further. There was a flash in the dark and I felt cold steel against my warm chest and then I felt my breasts drop free. I looked down to see this black stranger consuming my bare breast with a switch blade dangling in his right hand.
He was obviously high on something, but he was incredibly skilled with the knife.
I shuddered and instinctively tried to move backward, but Bobby’s pressure on my back held me firmly in position. Bobby held my top upward with this free hand while the stranger’s blade slit it from top to bottom in one slash.
After a couple more quick slices and one tug, the stranger threw the tattered remains of my new bra across into the middle of the smokers.
“Give that a sniff, niggers. This girl smells so good it makes my eyes water.”
I could distinctly hear Bobby laughing behind me.
The black stranger’s mouth found my right breast. He engulfed it as his knife cut my belt, and the side of my skirt. Now cut free, my skirt joined the remains of my bra in the middle of the group.
“Don’t think you got need for that neither, girl.”
He offered as his mouth returned to firmly engulf my breast.
A chilling, shudder passed up through my body as I watched the remains of my skirt being handed from one black to the other.
Two more quick skillful slashes and my new white panties were split down the sides and tossed over to the group as well. He release his suction on my right breast just long enough to announce,
“Add this cute little thing to the stack niggers?”
I was nude except for the tattered remains of my top and my sandals.
I shuddered wildly as Bobby turned me to face this black stranger more directly. Quickly I learned he had turned me so guy had access to both of my breasts. I was lactating freely and now he started working both of them causing even more flow. Moisture ran freely down my front as he worked me.
Finally, he stepped back and looked at Bobby with a big toothy grin,
“Robert, ma man, this girl is something very special. I never saw one so cute, and so full of sweetness. Let me take her upstairs.”
My knees were weak. My front was wet everywhere. I was doubling over trying to control myself only to look down and see he had the biggest erection. A frightening sensation passed over me. I would willingly follow this stranger anywhere, do anything he wanted, and take anything he offered, I needed him so badly.
Bobby was right from the very beginning. I was caught up in erotic sexual needs from the very first time I came here. I was the “type” of girl he described. I had to admit it. He may have bilked me with the “program”, but honestly there were warning signs from the beginning. I would easily have recognized them had I not been lost in the erotic with him. Every trip down here for a “treatment” had been an adventure I needed sexually.
I needed this. I kept hiding my doubts about everything here at Bobby’s because I needed the sex—simple as that. Otherwise why in the world would I be back here now?
The stranger reached for izmit escort my arm but Bobby slowly turned me away toward the door.
He started to move me across the room toward the hall. I was wearing just my sliced open white top and sandals, nothing else. My arms pinned behind me; my breasts and tummy on display.
The big black guy circled around in front of me still banishing the switch blade Bobby stopped just short of the door.
“Hey sit the fuck down nigger. This piece of sugar and I are going up stairs for a while. You sit down and enjoy that bong for a while. She’ll see you later.”
Bobby released my arms and came around in front to lead me out into the hall. The stranger stumbled back toward the pile of pillows.
Bobby was still holding my hand firmly as we entered a bedroom at the top of the stairs. He sat down on the edge of the bed and drew me forward to stand directly in front of him.
I was nude, everything had been cut away.
I willingly let him spread my legs.
I stood there looking down in the semidarkness as his hands went around behind and he drew me to him just as he had done each time he had me up here. His tongue went down to me and came slowly up along my wet sex until his tongue and lips found my most sensitive spot and he locked onto me firmly. It was a feeling I remembered so well; a feeling that haunted my sleepless nights—entered so many erotic fantasies, and a feeling I will never forget. It was a shocking sexual jolt from head to toe.
I moaned loudly, wrapped both my arms around his black, kinky, head and collapsed over him holding him to me as tightly as possible.
He held tight to my clit as my body literally danced with convulsions. It seemed my every move caused him to only tighten and pull more firmly. I moaned again and again, time after time. I was wet everywhere.
Repeatedly, he pulled at my most sensitive spot. He knew exactly what drove me out of my mind. He would skillfully pull my clitoris outward until I climaxed over him, then he would release get a new hold on me and pull it further. I climaxed time after time. I moaned again and again as I lost awareness of everything except Bobby.
Finally, an intense shutter overtook me from head to toe. I collapsed over him. Only then, he released me and lowered me onto the bed beside him.
I last remember Bobby gently rubbing my back as I lay over the edge of the bed on my tummy with my knees on the floor shuddering time after time with outrageous sexual energy.
I heard him utter,
“Welcome back, Caroline.”
My mind went blank.
At some point, I became aware of a noise out in the hall behind me. I was still on my knees over the side of the bed, fully exposed. I struggled to look backward. Bobby was gone. The big black who had cut away all my clothes was coming through the door. I knew why he was there.
It was so simple for him. I had collapsed on my front with my legs downward toward the floor. He had his weapon in his hand as he approached. I felt his weight on my back just before he drove it into me. With his first stroke he went completely down to one of those places deep inside that drives me wild.
He had me. He felt so good. Once again Bobby had taken me to the very brink and this guy was now taking me over the edge where I needed to be.
“Just a little deeper, please, please!”
He drove firmly against me. I felt his engorged testicles strike my bottom.
“Holy shit girl, you are so ready; you really needen this. You really like the big black dick don’t you?
I spread willingly and arched my back upward to get more of him. He drove in to the limit again and stopped,
You really needen this, aren’t you girl?”
“Yes, yes. Please, don’t stop. I like it.” I arched upward and spread my legs further.
With that, this black stranger let out a grunt and went back to work. Again and again, harder and harder he moved firmly into me. His hands came around beneath me to take my breasts. He came at my vagina from all directions and every stroke ended right against the spot deep within that drove me wild and caused me to contract tightly around him. I could not get enough of him. Bobby was right, I was addicted to this.
I became aware that I was way too loud. I struggled to contain my reactions. I started to bite my lip as I moaned.
Finally, his breathing started to come in repetitive snorts and I could feel his warm semen being sent deep against my cervix. He reared back, drove in a final time, and my loud screams accompanied his loud grunts as I took all he had.
When he was finished, I lay there over the edge of the bed, panting. He kissed the back of my neck. He turned my face sideways and gently kissed my cheek.
I can remember only part of his quiet whisper,
“Never girl, never have I had anything like…..”
He continued whispering to me for some time, but I was lost in an overwhelming feeling of love. His weight came off my back, as he slowly withdrew, and he was gone.
I brought my legs together slowly and tried to crawl up into the bed.
I had just managed to get my head on the pillow when another big black guy came through the door.
As with number nine he had taken everything off in the hall where there was more light, his sex was large and ready. This time I was on my back in the bed. Without a word he simply moved over me and came down into my embrace. He consumed my mouth and drove his tongue deep. He tasted sweet. My legs parted and I arched upward as his right hand guided his unit into my vagina. He was gentle and slow.
I moaned quietly as he began to move with a distinct rhythm. He felt so good.
One at a time he lifted my legs up over his shoulders. With me spread to the limit in this submissive position he first moved upward along me and then moved firmly downward to the absolute limit. He had me. It was the most commanding position he could possibly be in. I could not move in any direction except upward against his engorged testicles. My reactions were uncontrollable. I drove my tongue into him as deep as possible and felt his saliva run freely down my face.
My erotic mind kept reminding me he was number ten. He was the tenth black to have me and I was just eighteen years old.
He finally gave me twelve slow, strong, firm strokes and he got twelve binding contractions deep in my vagina as twelve surges of his warm semen were delivered into my body and we moaned loudly together.
Finished, he let my legs slowly come down as I cradled him and my vagina tightened around him. His arms were firmly wrapped around my neck and I held him tightly with mine. We were lying there bound together sometime later as I heard his breathing turn very deep. He was asleep on top of me still deep in my body, still draining.
It was a good feeling. I lay there relaxed. I began thinking about Jamal and how he would respond if he knew the truth about my sexuality. How deeply I could fall in love with each of these men.
Sometime later, Bobby came in to awaken us. The stranger slowly lifted from me with an audible suction. He came up to his knees between my spread legs and gently came down to kiss my lips,
“Thanks sugar! You are something sweet that old Travis won’t forget.”
I mumbled a thank you.
Once Travis was standing, Bobby bent down and kissed my breast before the two of them walked out. I felt so alone.
I lay in the dark just a few minutes until another big black was mounted on me. My short rest with Travis had revived me considerably.
This black when right to work and I began to respond, again.
I remember his comment as he began to work on me,
“You really like the cock, don’t ya girl?”
By now, I knew exactly what these guys wanted to hear.
“Yes, I like your black nigger cock. I need it.”
I whispered in his ear.
Right away he found a “right” place inside me, but once there he stopped moving. He held my hands together over my head and gently moved his lips to my arm pits. Each time his tongue touched me, I convulsed inside for his pleasure.
I was moaning, loudly, as he climaxed violently; just one time, but one very enormous time. My internal muscles had done everything to bring us to the largest climax.
Finished, he kissed my right nipple, lifted up and looked down at me.
“Can you say thank you baby?”
He asked with a large grin,
“Thank you, sir.”
I whispered up toward him.
In my sexual haze it was easy to smile, it was easy to say.
One after another additional blacks came up to love me. I was completely out of it as one at a time they had their way with me…I had my way with them…we had our way together. If this was being a whore…I could never have dreamed there was so much love involved. I have no idea how long I was with them…I have no idea how many came to me…I lost track of time and space in their arms. I was just that “type” of girl.
When the last of them finished I simply turned onto my side wrapped in his arms and slept. My last thoughts were how satisfied I felt and how right Bobbie was when he had first said I was this “type” of girl.
Sometime later I awoke. It was dark in the room. I had no idea what time it was. One by one my senses returned. I remembered wild images of big black breeders below me, above me, beside me.
I still had the remains of my cut up top on, but nothing else. I struggled to sit up a bit and to collect myself. All was quiet.
A movement told me I was not alone in the bed. I looked behind me. A black guy, the last one to love me…perhaps the one who had used the switch blade earlier, was curled up, sound asleep.
Slowly, I moved my hand downward along my body. I quickly confirmed my sex was tender and swollen, but I was retaining all I had been given. I could feel my vagina tightening again and again, deep inside in a pulsing response. My vulva was damp, but the bed was dry.
I gently touched the guy beside me and got a little response. After several attempts he moved closer to me in the darkness. All I could see was that same grin all these black guys seem to give me, that knowing grin that sent convulsions through me.
He mumbled something, kissed my breast, and slowly sat up. With a better look, in the darkened room, I could recognize Travis.
He was nude. He was groggy. He looked down at me lying beside him.
“Good morning lover.”
He whispered with another of those grins.
“Good morning”, I tried to sit up beside him.
I asked quietly,
“What you think happened sugar? You got fucked, really fucked.”
He looked at me with sort of a quizzical grin.
“You telling me you don’t remember? You disappoint me. You don’t remember me coming up here and finally fucking you like you needed.”
My mind was having a time getting this all organized.
“I came up here with Bobby. I remember that. I remember others. I remember you coming up later?”
“Yea; and you were still one good tight nigger loving bitch. You are the best fucking piece of ass I ever had, bar none. How do you do all that stuff inside?”
He just kept going on. I interrupted again,
“Did all the other guys come up here as well? I remember others.”
He looked at me and laughed.
“Think you better talk to your Bobby about all that. I only know you gave me one great loving. You sure had a need when I got to you.”
I sat in bed as he slid around me. My muscles were telling me I had for sure been fucked. I sat trying to get my mind back in gear. When I came up here last night there had been six or more guys down on the pillows smoking pot; had each of them come up?
Travis got up and moved toward the hall carrying his clothes. He hesitated at a straight chair by the door, picked something up and turned back toward me.
“Bobby had me bring this up for you sugar. Remember, you got all that other shit cut off you.”
I struggled to my feet as he returned to help me put on a short red robe. It fit perfectly but it was very revealing. It had such a velvety feel. I closed it around me. I looked down. At least in the dark, I looked like a million bucks. I shuddered all over. It gave me such a sensual feeling.
I couldn’t help myself. Just the touch of this beautiful robe in this extraordinary situation was enough. It was just long enough to cover me in front. It brushed my tummy and my sensitive breasts with each move. Already erotic feelings were flooding back through me.
I turned toward Travis. He sensed my responses to the robe. Was I that obvious? He was smiling ear to ear in the semidarkness,
“You already needen the dick again aren’t you girl?”
I moved close to him and gently touched his neck.
I came up on my tiptoes to kiss him,
I whispered as I hugged him. I knew it was what he wanted to hear, but it was also the truth. Bobby’s words kept returning…he was right. I certainly was that “type” of girl for sure.
Travis held me in an embrace. Finally, he gently turned me in his arms until my back was toward him. I could feel that his erection had already returned, big time. His large hands came around me, opened my robe, and found my damp breasts. He began to massage them almost as if he were testing their condition. I flowed freely in response.
He moved backward, sat on the edge of the bed, turned me, and mounted me on his ready erection. He gently but firmly began to manipulate my breasts with this hands and lips. I moaned as I found I was already skillfully working his member to find those sensitive locations deep inside my body. Out of nowhere I heard a series of grunts as he loudly deposited deep into me once again. I came as well. Just like that.
Finished, we stood up together. He was smiling and talking about how grand I was as he wrapped the robe back around me and we headed out and down the steps. I was unsteady. He held my forearm with one hand and encircled my back with the other arm to gently guide me. A warm feeling of appreciation passed over me.
Travis and I both smelled of a strange sweet odor. It was a lovely smell common all over the house.
Downstairs, Bobby and four or five others were spread out on the pillows, an enormous bong still bubbled in the middle. When Travis and I walked in, Bobby got up and came over to take both my hands and bring me to him. As he did, the red gown fell completely open in the front. He spread my arms to study my very white body in the semidarkness. He looked at me from head to toe, slowly and then turned me toward the pillows. He held my right forearm firmly in his right hand and gathered the red robe behind me with his left. I was completely on display to the men.
“Hey, niggers; I think I am going to let Caroline say goodnight; she sure has been a good girl, don’t you agree?”
He held me there fully exposed, looking at the group, waiting for a reply.
There was movement on the pillows.
Responses came up confused and muffled. Numerous comments about sexing me and several warm goodnights followed.
Bobby turned to me with his patented grin,
“Looks like those guys are worn out—you got any explanation for me, sugar.”
I looked at him,
“Did all of them do me, Bobby?”
He gave me a wild sagacious grin, held me there for a couple minutes, and then turned me onward until he wrapped me into an embrace and kissed me deeply.
“Each one, sugar, each one and a couple more that already headed out; they all came up to visit and came down delighted.”
We started to walk toward the door, and then stopped,
“You know the talk around the bong all night was who was doing who up there. They all come down saying you were up there still wanting more. I wouldn’t let anyone new go up unless I got the report that you were still out of your skull wild up there. I can’t wait to talk to Travis, he was the last. Did you still have the wild urge for his big dick?”
He smiled and looked at me.
“You tell Bobby, sugar, were you still needen more when Travis came up after all these niggers got to you?”
I looked at him and whispered,
My entire body responded with a shudder; from head to foot.
He was right. Even after all I had been through up there, erotic desires were again welling up out of control inside me.
How could this be? How could I have done this? How could I have come here? How could I have taken all these men on and still want more. I had become a sexual animal.
He handed me an envelope and led me to the door. Just at the door he hesitated.
“Now you listen, sugar. Bobby has his arms open to you. You can see how you are loved here at Bobby’s. You understand now, right?
The whole world out there may treat you like shit, but here I have the real answers for you. You can come to Bobby and stay all knocked up like you should. You come here and we do what’s right by that black bump down there. Think hard about it. I got good ways to make it all happy for you. Ok?
I gently kissed him,
“I will think about it.”
I promised as he opened the door. I hesitated. I honestly did not want to leave—I did not want to return to all the emotional uncertainty of the “other” world. It was safe here. I was appreciated by everyone here. I was loved here.
He could read my mind,
“You better get on your way. Just remember Bobby can take care of it all right here. You come back whenever you need to honey. Just think careful about what is best for that little guy.”
It was still broad daylight. I was shocked by the unexpected bright light. I had the envelope in one hand and was trying to hold the red robe closed with the other. Instinctively, I reach up to cover my eyes and the robe fell open as I gingerly made my way down the steps toward my car. There were several young black boys throwing a foot ball next door. There were a couple older black guys in the driveway near the old garage in front of the car. They all stopped and watched as I descended the steps.
My nude body shuddered uncontrollably as I struggled to cover up in the bright light and open the door to my car. I threw the envelope on the other seat of the Mustang and backed out to the street. It was five by the car clock. A strange feeling; almost a feeling of satisfaction, came over me. I had whored. I had probably sexed more than a dozen different black men. I had proven Bobby was right. I no longer had that internal debate. I now had ample evidence I was exactly the “type” of girl Bobby thought I was from the very beginning.
My mind turned numb as I drove. I was much, much calmer inside now. How could I have such a warm sense of accomplishment?
At the first red light I pulled the contents out of the envelope; $4,400 and note in big writing.
Loved to see you sugar. Come back soon.
You are loved. No one loses.
I glanced at all the money. It said something for sure.
This afternoon, Bobby had proven something I had worried about for some time. He had the power to drive me out of my mind and convince me to do anything he wanted—what’s more he would make me love doing it for him. .
The big revelation here today was how much he wanted me to join him and have this baby. What an option. How confusing. I had to admit it had a certain strong appeal. It would be an easy, uncomplicated solution was I alone in this—if I did not have a good home life where expectations for my future were so high. No one at home knew of my “new” challenge, I was still the good little cute virgin in their eyes. I was someone with a very bright future that did not include having a black baby at nineteen years of age. If I got rid of this I could easily return to that normal life where everything was suburban perfect.
Things were quiet when I arrived at home. I snuck in from the garage. My dad was gone on a business trip and mother was up in the shower. Thank goodness. I was still wearing nothing but the very small red velvet robe with my tattered white top underneath.
I slid through the kitchen, glancing around like a deer in headlights as I quietly made my way quickly and quietly up the steps and into my bathroom.
A strong compulsion took me into the full length mirror behind the bathroom door. I looked in the mirror to find a young, blonde, pregnant whore looking back with warm loving eyes. She was dressed in the cutest short, red silk robe. My image causes my heart to jump. It was a shocking contrast to my image before I shoplifted. In a strange way I liked this girl better—she was much more interesting. She had no time to be bored, for sure.
I showered carefully. Everything seemed in order. I had just a few love marks on my breasts and neck. Down below I was amazed how “ok” everything felt. My sex was pink, tender and swollen but otherwise just very sensitive. Had they used condoms? Did it really matter? My fingers explored. Any question regarding condoms was answered quickly. My sex had really tightened, but as soon as it was gently spread I learned I was as loaded as a girl could possibly be.
As I returned to washing, I was again aware of that all too familiar tingle down below. The erotic compulsion I lived with had grown stronger big time.
A shower felt so good. I did something I had never done, as I gently washed my sex, I tried to open it and discharge all I could. I succeeded a bit, but it gave me a hollow feeling, I quit. A strange erotic feeling came over me. What they had given me was put there in an act of unmitigated love. I had been treated so sweetly by each of them and I owed it to them, and to Bobby, to keep every bit of it. It was such a loving feeling. I am a strange woman for sure.
Once showered, I tumbled into my bed wearing just panties, in case any of their little devils decided to travel in the night. Sleep was easy. Mother came up at seven to ask about food. I told her I had a touch of tummy flu. She did the forehead touch thing and said I had a little temperature.
I fell asleep thinking about the solution Bobby had offered. He had offered a way out for sure. It was crazy, but it had a crazy appeal. It was so simple. I only had to let nature take its course as it should. Those interracial babies were so cute. I drifted off.
I slept through to six yahya kaptan escort in the morning.
At six thirty I called Jamal.
At ten I had showered again, dressed in shorts and a long sleeved top and headed to 1466 High Bluff Court.
What a contrast to where I had been yesterday. Jamal opened the front door and let me into a lovely airy well decorated two store condo.
He was all business. We went to the kitchen table; he pushed a cup of black coffee in front of me and sat down opposite me. Not one casual social word; not one question. I could tell he had been doing a lot of tormenting, thinking and research. He started right in,
“Caroline I have had nothing else on my mind since I last saw you. I have made a lot of calls, read a lot of stuff and I have come up with some solid recommendations. Here is what I think we should consider.
First, we need to know exactly what is up with you. By all I have read there is not possibility of an abortion at this point; too much time has been allowed to pass. So I have arranged for a full physical with the maternity people at Grady Hospital.
First if you have any health issues we will address those with top priority.
Following that, if things are as I suspect, I think this is how we should proceed.
With the assurance that you are healthy and abortion is not an option, I have come up with three ways we can possibly go with this pregnancy.
I want to discuss these carefully right now so you have time to think them through before we move on one of them.
First, the option I prefer—I want you to think about our getting married quickly. We will go to your mother and dad together and face the music. I will plead our case for getting married and raising the child together. You will move here to my condo. You will have the baby with my full support and whatever involvement your parents want to have. Once our baby is here and you are back to normal, you can leave me if that is what you then feel is best. I will give you whatever I can to help you bridge back to your world. I will gladly raise our child alone. Caroline this kid might be my only hope for a family. I would be so proud to have an offspring.
Second choice, if that first option has no appeal here is another possibility and one that limits the amount of involvement your parents have. I was stationed at Fort Sherman in the Panama for a long time. I ran a big section of the jungle ranger training facility down there at Toro Point and it became my home for over six years. I bought a small place which I couldn’t sell when I came back. Caroline, I will put my neck way out and facilitate your running away with me. We will go to live in Panama together. Down there, there will be no shame, no grief. We can have the baby and live there. You can stay with me as long as you want, married or unmarried; your choice. Interracial couples and children are unnoticed there. You can have whatever relationship with your parents seems best as we move along, and come home at anytime.
Third if neither of the first two options have merit. We can level with you parents and if they agree; you can stay at home knowing I will pay for everything…everything. I will sign court papers giving you the right to put the child up for adoption or, should you decide to keep the baby I will guarantee both of you a benefit until the baby is twenty. I will fight any battle for you and do anything to make it work out for your best interest. I know this sound like a tough solution. You mom and dad would have every chance to punish you in so many ways if they desired, but it is a solution that would work ok with their love.
He fell silent; took a drink of his coffee. I had never watched a human being tormented the way Jamal was. His face was filled with emotion; remorse, self loathing, and depression.
I got up walked around and placed my hand on his shoulder. I bent to gently kiss his cheek. He was warm, perspiring,
“Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Jamal. I know you’re worried. I appreciate your concern. Thank you for what you have done. Thanks to you I finally have a real program with real people and something that makes sense.
Let’s say no more until we get the report from the doctor. We need to know for sure what is up, right.”
He nodded agreement.
He sat silently looking at me. His eyes were filled with compassion and concern. I asked about the details for the Hospital visit tomorrow. He handed me a white appointment slip.
There was a short conversation most of which I have forgotten. He wanted to take me to the hospital; to be there to hear the results and plan the next step immediately. I want to go alone. I won.
I just had too many mental and physical issues to have him there with me. Both of us seemed satisfied to say nothing more until the appointment was over tomorrow.
By eleven I was back on the road home.
As I drove I was overtaken by a panicky feeling. What in the world would Jamal have done today if he had known about my outrageous field trip to Bobby yesterday? While he was tormenting over my problems I was whoring. I was allowing that asshole Bobby to use me as a wanton whore. I was freely satisfying my wild kinky needs with a variety of black guys while Jamal tortured with my problems. How terrible can one girl be?
I had to force myself to stop that type thinking and move on. My mind settled on the options he suggested for the future.
Why was it he, as well as Bobby, seemed to think the only correct decisions for me involved keeping the baby? What strange thinking drove them center every option on that?
For the first time I tried to think through what was really going on inside me if I stepped away from what was best for my parents. I was eighteen. What was best for me? First I had to admit to myself the overwhelming erotic desires which were with me constantly now. Desires that could bubble uncontrollably to the surface at anytime. Desires that yesterday drove me to become a sexual animal; to recklessly and shamelessly do what I did to gratify animalistic passions that had taken possession of me. I sure was not mother material, but I knew the possibility of becoming the mother of a big black baby contributed immensely to my licentious needs.
I found myself utterly lost in thought. What conflict; the ultimate war between good and evil.
My mind was on hype active. I cannot remember arriving at home.
I sort of woke up in the kitchen, sitting at the island. I was a case of nerves. I tried to eat half a sandwich. I was alone, mother at the charity, dad out of town.
One by one, things rattled through my mind.
I had rarely been to a doctor, never been to a hospital. The whole thing scared me beyond belief.
Next, I sort of came to, buried in my walk-in closet slowly sorting through my tons of clothes. One piece at a time I was looking for the most conservative, loose fitting, shapeless items I could find. As I sorted them out, I hung each baggy item on a rod to the side and then I even began to rearrange those, to put the most conservative ones in front.
Dinner and the evening were a long nightmare. Mother was tired, watched a little TV and finally went to bed. I went up to my room at the same time. It was ten but it seemed like it should have been midnight.
I showered and examined myself. All the marks I had received at Bobby had either disappeared or turned very light. My breasts were very full and uncomfortable, my nipples distended and damp. The doctor would sure notice that. My tummy was…well my tummy; what else can I say. For the first time in my life I had a tummy. I put on a long night gown and crawled into bed.
For a moment I actually fought to overcome the sensual feelings that immediately returned me—that uncontrollable tingle in my sex. How could I be getting turned on when I face what I did in the morning? Perhaps having this baby would be the easy way out. All I had to do was nothing and it would happen. I hated medical stuff. No way was I going to sleep, but…
Morning light streaming in the window lit up my bookcase and me as well. It was eight. Plenty of time
My outfit was already selected on the special rod; long dark pleated skirt, white short sleeved blouse with breast pockets, new white panties, new white bra—it was too small/I was too big—white slip on shoes. Mother stuck her head in my room around nine to tell me she was off to the Wish Foundation. She hardly looked at me. No questions. I just said the old “have a good day.”
The hospital was thirty minutes away the timing was perfect.
Reception at the hospital outpatient was overly nice; the sweetest old white ladies who all seemed to know my problem. They handed me a clip board with my record on it and ask me to confirm and correct the items.
My first shock of the day was when I realized my medical record reflected Jamal’s address, phone number, cell phone, and email. Of course, he had to set it up that way; very smart, very safe.
The wait was short. The nurse was short and sweet. The doctor was short, white and cute. The physical exam was long. The table was cold. The stirrups were high. The doctor disappeared beneath the sheet I was cover with. He was there for a while but he did nothing that created a reaction on my part. Nothing pleasured, nothing pained; it was just uncomfortable.
Finished the doctor went over to sit on a little round stool at a corner table and the nurse helped me sit up on the end of the examination table.
The doctor wrote endless then looked up,
“Well young lady here is the verdict. You are in very good health. All your parameters are exactly where they should be. Your pregnancy is progressing well. I would roughly estimate you are about at the end of your first trimester, but I am going to send you across the hall for an ultrasound and then we will talk further about that. The ultrasound helps pin down more accurately how far along you are and tells us a lot about the health of the fetus. You have on record you may have had the meaningful intercourse May 16. As of right now I would that was when conception occurred, making you almost exactly three months along.”
“I will say no more until I have a look at the ultrasound.
See you again in a few minutes.”
He walked out and the nurse took over to facilitate my getting to over to the imagery department.
It took the better part of an hour to complete the ultrasound and get back to the examination room, but once back, the doctor came in shortly with the results in his hand. The ultrasound confirmed I was carrying a very healthy fetus, which was very large considering the conception date that was entered on my record. My heart jumped as the Doctor turned the viewgraph so I could see the development of my baby. The Doctor smiled, but I could not look at it. He turned it away and gave me a summary sentence,
“You are twelve weeks along and everything looked good.”
“Do you have questions?”
I was stunned into silence. There were so many things, so many questions, but not one that I could get out of my mouth.
With that the Doctor started to wrap things up. He indicated I would have a final conversation with his nurse and he opened the door. I was finished with the examination.
In his outer office I was given a sheet of release papers that dealt with taking care of me and the pregnancy…a full page on confidentiality…and a very small sheet on options.
I was panicked. The summary was I was healthy, pregnant, and out the door. It appeared the only thought they all entertained was strictly that I was going to be a mother.
Then almost as an afterthought, the doctor reappeared at the door to the examination room and asked me to come back in for a moment. He shut the door and turned toward me.
“I almost forgot to mention, if termination is your desire after a conversation with the father, it might be still possible. You are right to the very limit.”
I turned back into the outer office. A strange complex feeling passed through me. I sat down as my head spun. It was here. This was the biggest decision of my life; school, family, friends, and a normal life on one side—those interracial babies at the mall on the other. I sweat through the options for about ten minutes and then had a frank conversation with the nurse. She was blunt about my next step.
I left the hospital about noon and went directly across the street to the woman’s health clinic as she directed. My decision had been made. I could not just think about myself and the baby, I had to consider how an interracial pregnancy would kill my parents. Socially it would be a disaster for them. I was so important to them. I was an only child and this would be their grandchild, and the center of their life.
The WHC was brim full of business…it always is in late August I guess. After endless waiting and conversations behind the desk, they were able to squeeze me into a Friday appointment next week. It was there only opening and actually the very last day they could legally terminate me. What good luck.
I went to a small cubical and met with a young female clerk to work out the details for my appointment. A sheet of instructions for next Thursday, an appointment slip for Friday, and I was out the door.
Wow I cannot describe my jubilation as I walked out to the parking lot. The sun was bright. I had made my tough decision. My world was coming back together.
The Mustang knew the way home. I was absolutely gleeful. Nothing else could describe it. Next Friday was going to be hard and scary, but nothing compared to some of the things I had been through during the last twelve weeks. How lucky can one girl be…they caught it in time…they can do it right here in safety…Jamal turns out to be an angel…everything is paid for…no one in my family will know…I can go to college on time…no more nightmares about seeing fat white women with black kids in the mall…I can date Kyle with my head up…My normalcy is back…I turned into the drive at home.
I raced through the house. I had to keep busy. I dressed in one of my selected conservative outfits, got a bite to eat and drove to Wish Foundation. It was a Friday afternoon and things were quiet, but the luckiest Central High grad ever went about busy work like crazy. Dad would be home from his weeklong trip in time for dinner. It would be so great to see him and be able to look him in the eye. Maybe the three of us could catch a movie or something other than just TV. I felt like a ton had been taken off my shoulders.
In an idle moment when I was supposed to be monitoring a silent phone bank, I thought about Kyle. These thoughts only served to strengthen my resolve that the decision had been correct. Now I could continue with Kyle.
Kyle was the best boyfriend I could have. He is cute, smart, motivated and very attracted to me. Only now, after the nightmares of the last two months, could I really see how perfect he was for my life.
In two weeks he will be off to college to study engineering and I will be off to study computer science and math. He will be about two hours away from Monroe to the south, and I will be about the same to the west, but it is like a triangle, the two schools are only an hour apart and we both will have cars at school. We will see a lot of one another.
As I sat there thinking this through, Kyle kept getting more and more attractive to me. He could well be the perfect guy for my life. We could continue to see one another in college and maybe really make something of this.
Kyle really loved me. I will now have a proper relationship with him. A good sexual relationship with Kyle would be the very best answer to the erotic compulsions that dominated my thinking all the time now. Proper sex with a proper male; would be so wonderful. It was the way things were supposed to work between a man and a woman—college, engagement, marriage, and family.
My thought pattern turned dark. I had not honestly been treating Kyle very well. For the last four months of our senior year, he had tried everything to get closer to me but I had put up so many barriers. Then, as I got close to graduation all hell broke loose in my life. I was so preoccupied with all these shoplifting challenges; I had been terrible to him. I was the worst possible date for the prom.
Beyond all that, a strange hollow feeling kept sneaking into the back of my mind. I am now very used merchandise. Where before, I had placed myself on a pedestal; I was…a virgin…so cute…so well built…such blue eyes…so many good friends…and such a future. Kyle did not deserve me.
Now, if I faced the truth, there was no way I deserve him. He was good and kind and in love with me and I was now a nineteen year old pregnant, felon shoplifter, who has had sex with at least a dozen older black men. I had gone from stuck up cute virgin to promiscuous tramp in one day at Mallmart.
For reasons you understand I had not talked to him except two short calls all summer. Was he still available? Would he want to talk to me?
I picked up an idle phone in front of me and in ten minutes I had a date with Kyle to hang out tonight. Immediately my new euphoric outlook soared to new heights. With Kyle in my life and this pregnancy behind me, things could not only get back to normal next week, but I could have new dreams and goals that made my life right and my parents proud.
As I drove home thoughts crossed my mind. All those months he had wanted to have sex with me and I had never let him get close. I had been so concerned about my self- image, morality, and pregnancy. My virginity was just about the most important thing in my life. Now, it was all gone. I had nothing to lose, absolutely nothing. Maybe I could find a positive in this big negative. What a way to bring him close to me. College would seem much less lonely if I had a boyfriend.
My thoughts finally crystallized.
“Kyle my good friend, you are going to have your way with me tonight”.
It took just two phone calls to set it all up.
Kyle picked me up at seven. My parents could not have been happier, they showed it openly. You would have thought Kyle was a prince. Dad greeted him warmly. Mother hugged him with a big smile. He was dressed like a preppy college guy, so good looking. I was wearing the same longer skirt and the white top; with the blouse hang out it was cute enough and very safe.
My parents were headed out to a card game. No way would they be home before midnight; plenty of time for this preppy guy to have the treat of his young lifetime.
Kyle and I walked out hand in hand ostensibly to head for the mall and a movie. He was driving his dad’s blue Cadillac; this was a special occasion. As he opened the door for me, I turned and kissed him on the cheek. I could see the surprise in his eyes. I could tell my lips were warm against him. I knew I sent a message. He could hardly drive. I took his right hand over into my lap and held it gently; another message. He kept looking over at me. He drove right past the mall to a motel.
No more than twenty minutes later, he was a hundred dollars lighter and we were in a very nice motel room together. He sat on a chair by the desk. I turned back the bed spread, kicked off my shoes and sat down, propping up with two big pillows. We talked a few minutes about how busy we had been with summer jobs. I told him how much I had missed him. I played with the TV controller until I had a music channel. He talked a little more, this time about summer soccer. I got up and turned the lights off except by the bed. I went back to the bed and made sure my longer skirt was well up above my knees as I sat back down and lifted my knees a bit.
I patted the bed beside me. Kyle came over. He nervously continued to talk soccer. I reached for him and brought him close. We kissed as high school kids do…nothing. I wrapped him in my arms and slowly he started to come alive. His face had the wildest look as he came over on top of me. We kissed again…nothing. I lifted up and slid my new white panties off. He came down onto me. He was still fully clothed. I lifted my skirt up around my waist. We kissed…nothing. I spread missionary style for him. I heard his zipper. There was an embarrassing hesitation. I reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.
In the dark I brought him up between my spread legs and reached down to guide him to me. It took several moments. It was awkward. Finally, he found a position and I could move it against me. I brought it upward along my damp lips and—and that was it. A massive explosion of moisture filled my hand and told me he had finished.
Kyle jumped up from the bed and fixed his trousers. I turned on the low bedside light. He looked down at me with a most embarrassed expression. A strange thought passed through my mind. I guess I had now had one white guy along with my twelve or more blacks, but I wasn’t sure; what a different, disappointing experience.
He stood nervously as I got up from the bed and straightened up.
We left the motel room in a hurry. We had been in the room only twenty minutes. Kyle apologized all the way back to my house. He gave me every excuse he could think of. I tried a couple times to tell him everything was ok, but finally I gave up and just rode along in silence. My mind was somewhere else, somewhere I did not want to admit, even to myself. I arrived home after sex with my panties on.
My parents were out. Kyle came in at my invitation and we sat on the couch in the living room. He immediately started to talk about colleges. Then he talked more about soccer. The only intimate topic was a short comment from him about how much he loved me. My mind was somewhere else. He gave me a school boy kiss goodnight as he went out the door. He was gone at nine with all kind of promises about going out tomorrow night as well.
I went up to my room and undressed. All thoughts of Kyle faded as erotic thoughts literally flooded my brain cells. I cannot tell you how much I needed Bobby sitting on the edge of my bed. I really gebze escort did not care if Kyle ever called me again. My feelings for Kyle went down like a pricked balloon. He had nothing that interested me. Sexually I had been taken way beyond the point where Kyle would ever have anything to offer. I knew instantly all my earlier thoughts about a future with Kyle were up in smoke. That was over.
I still had my panties on. I went around my room like a possessed woman. The erotic tingle between my thighs just continued to increase. Kyle had done nothing to satisfy my all consuming need for sex. I was drawn along like a moth to a flame.
My parents never got home until midnight. I had plenty of time to just drive by Bobby’s and just see what was happening in the hood. I would do nothing more than just get closer to the only place I knew held sexual answers. I had to get to 2247 West Branch. All sense of reason was gone—my base corporal desire dominated me completely. Nothing else made sense.
I quickly put the same clothes back on.
My Mustang took about forty minutes until I was driving down West Branch. It was dark. It was warm. There were three or four blacks setting on Bobby’s porch. I went fifty feet past and turned in the alley. On my way back Bobby himself was standing in the street. He simply pointed back along the house.
As soon as the motor stopped, Bobbie opened my door, lifted me forcefully into his arms and drove his tongue into my mouth. He held me like this right there in the driveway, just swaying back and forth. As he turned me toward the house I could see at least five big blacks watching from the street. Bobby led me up the back steps and into the back room. My panties were wet from his greeting. I tried to act civilized. To hide the outrageous erotic needs dominating me.
“Bobby, I have just come to talk for a few minutes. I have had some really good news. I have had some wonderful things happen that I want to share with you. Would you let me talk with you for a short while?”
Bobby took both my hand and backed me toward the couch. I sat down as he knelt on the floor directly in front of me,
“Sure sugar, I would love to hear your news, but first I got a couple things I really need to say to you, and then you can tell me all about your good stuff.”
As he was talking his head went under my skirt. He used his shoulders to spread my legs wide. My body shook all over. I heard the snap of a switch blade, and from under my skirt his left hand came out to hand me the remains of my new white panties. Bobby’s arms went back under my skirt and around my bare bottom as he pulled me forward toward him. His tongue came from nowhere to part my lips and find that part of me he knew so well. He pulled and I collapsed backward. My impulsive reaction to his suction drove my sex forward. His lips grabbed more and drew inward even harder. I moaned and collapsed forward over him as I attempt to protect myself by enclosing his black kinky head in my arms. I counted six climaxes before he finally released me.
Even as I was doubled over in extreme ecstasy, I kept counting.
He finally released me and I fell backward onto the couch. He came up over me. His gym shorts were already around his knees. His left hand lifted my head making me watch as his right hand guided his enormous black erection deep into my white body. I lifted impulsively, arched upward, and distinctly felt him deep within as he released. I could not believe I had such power over this man. I had taken him over the top so easily. Twelve times he stroked and each time a major deposit surged into Caroline Webster. I responded, convulsing with each stroke.
He lifted from me and stood up looked down smiling,
“That was what I needed to say to you lady; any questions?”
I could hardly speak. I was too weak to sit up. I lay there on my back fully exposed, braced upward on my elbows.
He grinned, his wide, ear to ear, grin,
“Well what was it you want to say to me?”
I looked up at him,
“I can’t remember.”
His smile got even broader, got up and went over to open the back door. Two guys I had noticed out front, walked in. They must have been waiting right outside the door. He said something to them I couldn’t hear and they walked across the room and dropped onto two big dark pillows on the floor.
Bobby came back to sit beside me on the couch. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder,
He looked at me with his patented smile.
“I am glad you came to your senses about all this and came back. You know we got all the answers right here, don’t you?”
I was dizzy with erotic energy. I looked at him for approval.
He hugged me and smiled,
“Couple of my good buddies over there would love your attention.”
My skirt was long enough it covered my knees, but I reached down to move it upward exposing my legs.
I looked at him and gave him the smile he liked.
“You mean like this?”
His smile widened. I could tell he was pleased with me.
“Bobby thinks you’re ready to give them the attention they want, baby.”
I turned to look at the two of them lounging on the pillows, waiting.
As I looked away at them, Bobby reached over an unbuttoned the top buttons of my blouse.
I made no effort to cover up. I was somewhere else. I was driven by an outrageous passion I now accepted. This man had such methods for arousing me.
I saw a flash of steel as he slashed the middle of my bra. I leaned forward as he nipped the shoulder straps and in one tug released me. My breasts fell forward and hung there, enlarged, heavy, swollen, and heaving for their entertainment.
He looked down at me,
“Sugar, you’re telling me our conversation is over.”
I nodded, yes.
“You get over there a pillow have fun with those boys. I’ll see you just a little later.”
As I struggled to my feet and moved in the semidarkness I began to realize how big these guys really were. They were very big, very black and stern looking. They both reached up to take my hands and forearms to help me as I came down onto a designated pillow between them. Their black arms encircled me in the darkness. One lifted me slightly while the other moved my skirt above my waist. My bare sex was elevated on the pillow, damp and slightly spread. Black hands and fingers were all over me. One of them quickly separated and found my most sensitive spot. I moaned loudly and arched upward as two other big black fingers entered me as deeply as they could go. They clamped down and I lost it—wild convulsions over took me.
I could hear one of them trying to talk to Bobby,
“Man, this is something real special here. How lucky can we be? This is so young, cute, and all knocked up. You are some black stud. You do the deed to her?”
Bobby was already moving toward the stairs,
“Niggers, you just shut the fuck up and be special good to her.”
His voice trailed off as he headed up the steps leaving me.
Not another word was said as the two of them consumed my breasts, one from each side, as they continued to work my all over my body. I was flowing freely. Time after time uncontrolled convulsion over came me. I wrapped my arms around their heads and drew them closer to try and keep my responses under some control.
The next hour was out of this world. They worked independently, one on each side. They drained at my breasts while at the same time drawing my legs apart to work my inner thighs and vagina.
At some point they began releasing from one breast at a time to move down between my thighs and give my enlarged clitoris the same treatment. As soon as one was attached to my clitoris I would climax violently and they would trade places. One would move back up and the other would go down on me.
Cycle after cycle until the one on my right moved me up on the pillow, I spread missionary for him and he entered me. I remember moaning loudly as he began to work deep in my vagina while his buddy still worked my left breast. Time lost all meaning as he stroked firmly, causing repeated shudders through my entire body. Finally, he had all he could take. His gentle strokes turned almost vicious as he pumped and unloaded deep against me.
Finished he rolled to my right side onto my arm and nuzzled my breast as I cradled him.
“You are the sweetest thing, little girl. Who the hell is the lucky guy who nailed you?”
“Most likely Bobbie”
I whispered, knowing that would be acceptable and stop all questions.
As I was holding number thirteen to my ample breast, number fourteen had moved down, spread my legs and introduced his enormous phallus into my body. I trembled with sexual excitement, again, and willingly responded as he went to work on me. I could not believe the way my internal contractions kept growing stronger and stronger. I still had such sexual needs. Finally fourteen delivered deeply and fell down beside me cradled in my other arm to relax firmly attached to my left breast.
They lay bound tightly to me resting in the semidarkness.
I cannot describe the physical relief they were providing my enlarged, lactating breasts. It was like feeding twins I kept telling myself, but that thought introduced its own form of special panic…twins? The three of us lay there bound together in a wonderful après’ sex glow until we could hear Bobby saying something upstairs as he started down the steps.
Slowly both guys released my breasts and got up like gentlemen to help me to my feet. I straightened my skirt and the remainder of my blouse. My blouse still provided a little cover once tucked into my skirt.
Bobby said goodbye from the bottom of the steps as together the black guys who had me by both arms, walked me out the back door and down the steps to my car.
It seemed like there were black face looking at me from all directions. My black lovers each kissed me goodbye. I got in the car and sat composing myself for a couple minutes taking note of how my body was already reacting to the attention I received just coming out to my car.
As I drove home I took stock. I had taken on number thirteen and fourteen for sure. I had been possessed by erotic desire earlier in the evening, before I got to the motel with Kyle, but these intense needs were only satisfied once I got to Bobby’s. My breast had been bothering me all evening but not now. They had been well serviced at Bobby’s as well. Maybe Bobby was right. Maybe all my answers could be found with him in the hood. What an adventure that would be—but stop daydreaming and drive. I was a much doted upon white teenager, an only child; and there were enormous expectations for me. My future had been planned out for years. Everything was to be correct and upstanding—college, marriage, family, and career. If my family and friends every knew the truth about me now it would kill them, let alone if I went on and had a black baby.
Plans were all in place at the clinic; stop thinking about anything else. Get back to normal.
Release from sexual need is short lived for pregnant Caroline. As I drove home I could already feel my breast starting bother me and an erotic craving starting to take control of my lower body. Wearing no bra and no panties only add fuel to the fire.
As I drove along, I forced my mind to a new topic. I had to get Bobby’s ideas out of my mind. No way could I ever go through all that. No way could I consider having a black baby as the solution. My family was way too important. Their life style in a posh suburb of Monroe was too important. My future was too important.
I worked at realigning my thoughts and as I did, I was amazed at how euphoric I felt about my upcoming medical solution. The decision was made. Thousands of girls do it. It was the only way to go. I drove along happily. It would be such freedom to have all this behind me.
I was one happy camper as I pulled into the garage at midnight. Mother and dad had just gotten home and were sitting at the table in the kitchen. No way past them. I gathered my blouse around me and held it with my arm as I walked bravely across to the refrigerator, got a glass of juice and sat on a stool such that the island hid most of me.
I could feel their eyes following every move I made. I could sense that something was wrong, very wrong. I looked at them across the room and tried my best to smile a normal smile.
My dad had always been my advocate. My mother and I had been close, but my dad was always the one who was stable and would help me with problems. Before puberty I actually thought we were too close. There were times he got into my business much more than most fathers; Indian girls, shopping trips, etc. After twelve, or so, thing changed a little. He had received a promotion which required that he travel a lot more, but still he was the one I could count on for level headed advice. Mother was flighty, but dad had such a level head.
Tonight he sat just looking at me with a glare I had never seen. If looks could kill I was dead. He was bubbling over with anger. He kept looking, just fiercely looking; not a word. His eyes would not leave me. He was shaking with anger. Nothing broke the silence.
Was he dismayed by what I was wearing? I had come home with nothing on except my pleated skirt and my white blouse in ruins. Had he gotten a glimpse? Could that be the cause? No way! That would cause embarrassing questions perhaps, but never these horrible looks. His face was contorted into an expression I will never forget. He was seething with hatred.
My stress caused my mind to play games with me. In the middle of all his anger, all I could see was my new white bra, and my new white panties cut to shreds by switch blades tossed into a pile at Bobby’s; all I could feel was what was going on inside my body. It was so complex. In the face of the most vial hatred I had ever experienced, I was immobilized with erotic craving. I had lost touch with reality.
Finally he spoke. His voice was almost unrecognizable; it was fierce, low and focused,
“Caroline I’m not going to ask you what is going on. I am not going ask you where you were tonight or why you come home in that condition. I don’t want lies. You have never lied to me and any answer you give me now will be a damn lie and we both know it. I am not going to give you some horrible inquisition and back you into corners. Instead I am going to tell you what we know and what you are going to do to deal with it.”
With that my father started into the most disturbing lecture I will ever hear. It was filled with vitriolic hatred. It seems two big explosions had occurred over the past hours while I was at Bobby’s.
First was Mildred at their country club card game. As soon as my parents got to the club this evening she took them aside to fill them with gossip. She was certain I had come into the woman’s clinic at Grady Hospital.
The busy body ran records for admissions, thus she had access to my records and do I have to say any more. She had nosed into my file, found out what was going on with me; and also all the Jamal inconsistencies on my record. She had become alarmed and just felt it was her civic duty to report everything to my parents “for my safety”.
Second, while I had been at Bobby’s my “boyfriend” Kyle had called several times and left very disturbing telephone messages. It was obvious to my parents something was very wrong and he really needed to talk to me, tonight.
The last time he called they were back from the club, so my mother had spoken to him. It seemed to her he was an emotional wreck. He told her only that he really needed to talk to me right away.
Their conversation was short, but sufficient. It was enough to convince my parents that he was the low down culprit that had “knocked me up” (to use my dad’s words). Of course, in their opinion, I had nothing to do with it at all. Kyle’s guilt was so evident in his repeated attempts to contact me and the urgency he had expressed to mother when he finally got through.
So in summary, my parents had put everything together and concluded I was pregnant by Kyle and had a termination scheduled for Friday morning. All the Jamal stuff on my medical records was things I had dreamed up as a smoke screen to hide everything.
Fortunately, most of my body was hiding from their view behind the kitchen island. I was wet from my breasts to my knees in a combination that included tons of perspiration. I was a wreck. I sat there freezing and perspiring at the same time.
I would like to be able to recall more detail for you, but that is never going to happen. All I remember from that point is my dad continued to rant in anger and his rant was very severe. He used words I had never heard. I was physically sick and ready to up-chuck at any moment. I struggled to just stay balanced on the stool.
He ended with two conclusions cast in concrete,
One, I was not having any procedure at the woman’s clinic. The Websters just do not do things like that. Laws prohibited anyone altering my arrangements even though I was a minor…so… they were going to stand with me at the phone in the morning as I called and cancelled my appointment. That was that. I was having the baby—period.
Number two, I was to call Kyle and tell him of my revised status as the mother of his baby. I was to arrange a meeting with him and me, my parent and his parents, the very next evening at our house, at seven.
The solution was a quick wedding, no alternatives…
“Do whatever you need to do. Drop the hammer on him if necessary. Use any threat you need. We want him here; we have got to move fast, this is outrageously embarrassing. Everyone at the club probably knows already, so we will need to cover it up. We will back date everything. We will say you two ran away last month and got married out of town. This will be the major gossip item at the club. If we don’t do this right you will become a spectacle with everyone we know. We need to move fast. A quick wedding and a reception at the club to tell everyone you were married in late April in Las Vegas. This is a fucking mess, Caroline.”
I had never known my dad this mad. He was furious. He just went on and on. I did not have to lie—I never had a chance.
The calls would be early tomorrow, because dad had to leave for a long meeting at Aronow & Associates and mother was committed to helping with a Make-A-Wish bake sale at nine.
That was it; meeting over. My parents were screaming more things I will never remember as they stormed out of the kitchen and up to their bedroom.
I sat choking on a strange vomit that just rode in my throat. I could hardly breathe. I reached up under the remains of my blouse. I was hot in some places and freezing in others. My breasts were lactating everywhere.
When I could finally get down from the stool I made my way up to my room. I was so sick. I vomited twice. I dropped on my bed and just lay there shaking. I could hear my heart in my ears. I was unable to move, unable to think. Finally, I crawled into the bathroom one more time to vomit.
My world had completely collapsed. I had no options that made sense. I had no one I could call—no one to talk too.
Throwing Kyle under the bus…impossible! He was a nice, benign, preppy guy and his parents were even more preppy and boring, but if he got hit with something like this, the shit would hit the fan. His dad was a civil lawyer…do I need to say more.
Kyle had professed over and over about loving me, but that was when I was a cute virgin with a nice little ass and he wanted things to progress with me sexually. Now, knocked up by someone else he would have nothing to do with me. He was not the hero type at all. His parents, like mine, had instilled the outline for his life very deeply into his makeup. I sat shaking as I thought of Kyle and his family the day a black baby arrived if I was able to trick him.
Jamal would do anything for me, but in the light of all this, there was nothing he could do that was worth considering. His three offerings were at best pipe dreams… marrying him…running away to Panama…having a black kid here at home, with his support. Come on. These were nothing but fantasies of the highest order—there was nothing that would work with Jamal.
I sat on my bed tormenting. I could not have been more alone, more lonely, more tortured. I was as caught as a grizzle bear in one of those pipe traps. I had no way out. Nothing made sense. I looked over at my alarm clock…almost two.
My mind shut down I flopped backward on the bed, but stark terror kept my eyes wide open and tears flowed down toward my ears. I looked at the clock again…ten minutes had passed. The morning would be here inevitably. I was doomed at dawn.
I kept watching the number changing on the clock. At two thirty a light bulb came on and I sat up. I needed someone to at least know what was going on here at home. I felt like I was in real danger. What kind of hell would I face in the morning when I had to confess to my parents?
My dad was as angry as anyone I have ever seen and he thought I was pregnant by Kyle, a handsome, white, classmate with a big future. Can you imagine my morning if I confessed?
“Dad let me tell you the truth. I am a thief, a felon shoplifter, who fucked a big black security guard to avoid jail. I am three months along with your big black grandchild.”
Get my casket ready.
I honestly could not trust my dad right now. I had never seen anyone so angry.
I needed to talk to somebody. Call Jamal…came sweeping across the dark horrors in my head. At least he should know what was going on with me in case something violent happened.
Jamal’s number rang and rang, both times I tried. There was no answer. Thank goodness. What would I say to him anyhow? He could not protect me. He had absolutely nothing to offer a pregnant white girl in an all white world with parents ready to kill her. Getting Jamal involved in any way would be nuts. Think about how my parents would react if they knew who it was that did this. My dad would have him in jail in a heartbeat, probably for life.
Call Kyle? No way. Think about it.
I tormented. There was no way to get my mind organized. Everything kept going around in a circle, faster and faster. I struggled time after time to just stop this “wheel of panic”. And every time I tried the pointer stopped on one square…Bobby.
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