Chapter 2
As Beth Stepped into the bathroom, she noticed that she was flushed all over! Her breasts, her shoulders, her cheeks. She knew that it wasn't just because of Leroy's kiss on her cheek, but rather because she had accidentally felt the immense size of his reproductive organ pulsing through the thin material of his pants. When she leaned forward it brushed against her leg, sending wicked thrills coursing throughout her body. Surely a man couldn't pack a sexual organ that large! No way. No how. It just wasn't possible. Men just didn't have such monstrosities dangling between their thighs. Only stallions were hung like that.
As she started to undo her terry cloth bathrobe, she began talking to herself. "Maybe Leroy does what some of those disco dancers from the seventies used to do. Maybe he sticks a big Polish sausage in the front of his pants so that he can impress all the girls. Yea, that's probably it. He obviously knows that women are a pushover for a man with a large penis."
She chuckled to herself. All the sex manuals said that size didn't matter, but she knew better. Women yearned for big cock as much as men yearned for tight cunt. The two were interrelated. Ying-yang. The Size-Doesn't-Matter theory was started by male authors who possessed tiny dicks and wanted to get in on the action.
As she removed her robe and displayed her flawless body to the mirror she wondered, "But how does Leroy keep the sausage in place? After all, he was wearing loose-fitting postman's pants, not loose-fitting jeans." She thought it over for a while and when she didn't reach a satisfactory conclusion she asked herself, "Surely he couldn't have an organ that large, could he?"
The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. The sausage felt so large she reasoned that he must use oodles of tape to keep it in place. But then, wouldn't gravity pull the tape off of the body so that it would dangle uselessly? And besides, how did he make it feel so lifelike? How did he make it so warm?
Her clear blue eyes opened wide as a new thought crossed her mind. "Wow! Maybe Leroy really does have a whopper between his legs! He's a negro and I've always heard that they're well-hung! Like donkeys!" She could feel her cheeks blush as she recalled a girlfriend once saying, "And they know how to use them, too."
Oh double wow!
For some reason she began to breathe more fitfully. Her breath was caught in the throat and her pulse was racing. It was as if a thousand butterflies had been released in her lungs and had taken flight simultaneously.
It would certainly be a rewarding experience to find out if Leroy's cock truly did measure up to the mythology revolving around black sexual prowess. And the more she thought about it, the more she wondered what it would be like to have a large penis buried in her pussy? What would it feel like? She had never experienced the thrill of a large shaft invading her secret chamber? She could at long last find out if size really didn't matter. And she had never experienced the thrill of having a darkly pigmented penis sliding into her. Maybe she could learn what interracial mating was all about.
"It's too bad that the sexual revolution is over," she said to herself. "I would have loved to have participated in one orgy."
She blushed the instant that she said it. Of course, she would never act out any sexual fantasies. She was just too much of a nice girl. Nice girls didn't do those sorts of things. Besides, she was one of those rare modern women who actually took her marriage vows seriously. She was so innocent, that before that very morning she had never contemplated having an extramarital affair. It was something she just didn't have time for. After all, she was too busy keeping her house in perfect order for her husband with the small prick. Oh well! That was the luck of the draw. She wound up with a hubby having a small dick and no technique. There wasn't anything she could do about it now. Maybe if she were reincarnated she would be married to a man nicknamed, "Donkey Kong."
She leaned forward and looked at herself in the mirror. She had to smile because she truly did present a picture of perfection. There was little doubt that she represented the American ideal of womanhood. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Tall, shapely figure. Perfect posture. Small perfect waist. Perfect! Perfect! Perfect!
She admired the way that she was aging gracefully. Her complexion was still that of a very young woman-smooth and healthful looking. Her blue eyes still shone like bright sapphires or unblemished ivory. Her teeth still sparkled and her gums were still bright and pink. Even her eyebrows were those of a beauty queen, never needing to be plucked nor colored. They were naturally arched and beautiful.
She puckered her lovely lips and blew a sensual kiss to the mirror. She was fortunate. She knew that she had a very erotic mouth. Even Herschel told her that, and he never gave complements about anything. It was slightly wider than normal, yet both lips were full. Of course, she didn't know that many men in town wondered what that mouth would look like wrapped around their cocks. Others went to sleep dreaming of those lips sucking on their scrotum.
She stuck out her tongue, moistened her lips, and continued looking at her reflection. She also had a sensual neck. It was almost swanlike in its elegance. Usually tall women had large necks, but not Beth. Hers belonged on a statue of Aphrodite or Venus. The same men who had fantasies about thrusting their penises between her lips, also had fantasies about shoving their dicks into the back of her throat. The men who fantasized about her sucking their balls, dreamed of emptying their semen into it.
Because she ate properly and exercised regularly, she had very little fat anywhere on her body. Her jaw line was straight and clean. Her tummy was flat and firm. Her thighs were sleek and smooth. No double chin. No love handles. No cellulite. These were the things that her mother taught her to avoid. By doing without junk food when she was a teenager, she had developed the body of a beautiful woman. Too many females turned into doughnuts in the process of munching them. Or came to resemble a Big Gulp from 7-11 by slurping away on forty-eight ounce drinks three times per day. Beth may have had a crazy bat for a mom, but the old lady knew her stuff when it came to diet and nutrition. Her daughter had turned into a smooth, sleek, womanly machine which was made for one thing: sex.
Of course, good genetics played a significant role in her appearance. Her mother even looked attractive when she was in her late seventies. Rumor had it that she got chased around the Roxbury Nursing Home by every horny old man in residence. And when she went to the spa, half the octogenarians in the place would tag along to watch her ass wiggle.
Beth blushed at the thoughts. Her father would resent her thinking such things about her mother. After all, her parents were devoted to each other in a way which was unique to the pre-Baby Boom generation. No fucking around before marriage, very little fucking around during the course of a marriage, and no wife-swapping-ever. If a man wanted to get his balls off with someone other than his wife, he could visit the Red Light district. But alas, something happened to America and Americans-and especially Baby Boomers-during the 1960's which was difficult to analyze. The country had undergone an unprecedented social revolution which had changed its attitudes, mores, and world outlook in ways which were still hard to fathom some twenty-five years later. But in a nutshell, the country-men and women alike-became intensely interested in matters of the pelvic region. Sex! Sex! Sex! Somewhere between the advent of The Pill in 1959 and the glorious days of the Summer of Love in 1967, the Pelvic Age was born and the Sexual Revolution swept across the consciousness of every class, race, and ethnic group in America.
Ah! To have been alive then, thought Beth. To have been allowed to freely screw around in the name of Consciousness Raising. To have had the opportunity to have participated in just one orgy. What would it have been like to wake up in the morning and not know how many men had used your body-at your request?
With that thought on her mind, Beth inhaled deeply and thrust out her lovely breasts. They were certainly some of her best features. They were perfectly symmetrical and stood out proud and firm from her upper torso. They were full and slightly up-tilted. Hence, when she looked in the mirror, the large strawberry-colored nipples resembled big pink eyes which seemed to be staring her right in the face.
She reached beneath her succulent breasts and ran her tiny palms along their underside. She was proud that her breasts had no sag whatsoever. They were like water balloons filled to capacity, straining against the confinement of her skin. The only woman she had ever met who had a pair as lovely was Cynthia. But then, many redheads had great knockers, whereas many blondes didn't.
She reached up and gently tweaked her nipple. Oooo! That felt good. She tweaked it again, and again, and again, each time enjoying the delicious and erotic sensation as it spread throughout her body.
When the nipples were hard little points, she smoothed her palms over them, massaging them, playing with them. She liked the way they dug into the flesh of her hand-sort of like little jelly beans. Ummmm, it felt very, very good.
She let her right hand drop down to the flat plain of her attractive little tummy. While she continued to caress her left breast with her left hand, she began rubbing her right hand in small circles on the smooth contours of her lower abdomen, occasionally stopping to dawdle at her belly button. She was inhaling more rapidly now as she occasionally let her right hand drop to the upper fringes of her pubic hair. She gently grazed it, afraid to touch it for too long.
She was as aroused as she could ever remember. Surely just talking to the mailman couldn't have done this to her libido. Maybe it was the fact that he was a large and handsome male. Tall men were always a turn-on, and tall black men were especially handsome. Maybe the thought of interracial sex had done it to her.
She laughed aloud and said, "How silly. Surely I couldn't be this turned on by the sight of black pigmentation. That's utterly ridiculous." She reached between her white thighs and ran her palm over her swollen mound of Venus. It was warmer than she ever remembered. She ran her hand upward and lightly touched her clitoris ...
"Oh my god!" she said aloud, nearly doubling over from the exquisite sensation coursing through her body. It was as if she had sent a lightning bolt to her soul. Her pubic area had never been so swollen with sexual heat and anticipation. She quickly removed her hand and looked down at her blonde triangle. She placed her hands on her buttocks and pushed her pelvis forward while arching her back.
Yep! She was aroused all right. Her pudendum was swollen with lust and pouting outward, and her inner lips had swollen to such an extent that they were puckering open and revealing her vagina. If a man were handy, he could easily plunge his organ into her at that very moment. She found the sight of her yearning pussy incredibly obscene and looked away. She didn't understand why some men bought pornographic magazines which had pictures of women's swollen genitalia. She thought that such photos belonged only in medical journals.
There was little doubt that she needed to quell her intense feelings of lust. She hurriedly reached into the shower and turned on the water. When the temperature was just right she stepped beneath the warm spray. However, far from curing her burning libido, the shower actually intensified it, causing her to yearn that much more for a man-a real man. A man with a whale of a large penis-not someone with a tadpole like her husband.
She loved the way the tiny jets of water splashed against her lush ripe titties. Mmmm! It felt good. The droplets massaged her breasts in a manner peculiar to water. It made her realize that the human body was perfectly in tune with the rhythms of nature. She arched her back and directed her breasts into the tiny jets. She wanted to know what it felt like to have two streams hitting against the very tips of her nipples.
Mmmmmm! It felt very very good.
She kept her back arched and rubbed her hands over her swollen breasts, trying to wrap her fingers around them. Naturally, it was a futile effort because they were so firm and large. She maneuvered her hands to the front of her breasts so that her fingers were now gently pulling on the nipples, attempting to milk them.
The longer that she played with her breasts, the hornier the rest of her body got. Not only were her titties swollen with passion, but her firm little tummy was fluttering in and out as well. She again felt between her thighs, stretching them apart slightly so that her hands could gain greater access to her private parts. She noticed that her vaginal mound was still swollen with lust. It almost felt as if it were crying out for attention, silently begging for a penis. Carefully, she ran a finger along the slit and checked her sexual lubrication in the same manner that an automobile mechanic might check the oil level.
Damn! She was moist down there in her secret chamber. And it wasn't water from the shower either. It was viscous vaginal secretion. She wished that her husband was around. She desperately needed a man-even someone as poorly endowed as Herschel! They could retreat to the bedroom and make love- if she could talk him into it. Boy, she could certainly use a six-minute lovemaking session with his small penis right about now.
She was so hot and horny, that she thought about putting on her bathrobe and running after Leroy. The thought of him coming back and knocking on her bathroom door entered her mind. What would she do if he did? Would it be possible for her to seduce a man other than her husband? Would it be possible to make love to a black man? What did he look like under all of those clothes, anyway? More importantly, what did his penis look like? How long was it? How big around was it? Was it as darkly colored as his body? Was it circumcised, or not?
She again blushed deeply. She couldn't believe the ribald direction of her thoughts. She was acting like an over sexed, over-eager schoolgirl. She rubbed her crotch once, twice, three times and said, "I don't think that schoolgirls have these kinds of nasty thoughts."
She reached over and grabbed the bar of soap from its tray. She began lathering herself."After she soaped her arms, she bent over and began lathering her long smooth legs. She rubbed the bar up and down on each shapely calf a dozen times, before she brought the bar upward to her long smooth thighs. She ran the bar from her kneecap to the outward swelling of her hip. Her legs were another great feature of her body. They were long, lean, and well-proportioned. Many men yearned to have them wrapped around their bodies at night.
She liked to keep them clean-shaven and smooth. Although she had very little hair on her body, she was especially careful to keep her skin looking its erotic best-and that meant little or no hair on her legs. She liked the way her body appeared with a coating of water and lather. For some reason, it seemed more erotic. Maybe a freshly washed body sent a signal to the brain which suggested that it was ready for foreplay and intercourse.
She slowly moved the bar up and down her thigh-first on the outside, then in front, then in back, and then to the sensual area in between.
She again began fantasizing. What would Leroy's penis look like if it were placed between her beautiful thighs? Mmmmm! What would a black shaft look like as it was about to enter her blonde nest? Mmmm! More importantly, what would it feel like?
For some reason which she didn't understand, she began to perspire. The sweat wasn't the result of the warm moist room either, but rather from an intense sexual arousal. Ohh! She wished that her husband was home! She would ask him to make love to her. She needed it badly.
She began to wonder what other women did when they got like this. How did they handle it when their husbands were away at work? Did they masturbate? Did they have an affair? Did they run away with a new man for a weekend? Did they swap husbands?
She couldn't believe the thoughts which were racing through her mind. It seemed as if her mind had sunk to the level of the sewer. She was actually thinking the word, "fuck". Glory be! That was a first.
She decided that the only option she, had available was masturbation. She had no other choice. She took the bar of soap and began rubbing it over her mound of Venus. When she had built up a nice little hillock of lather in her pubic hairs, she took the end of the bar of soap and placed it at the entrance of her cunt.
"Ohhh! I can't believe I'm doing this!" she moaned. "I've been married for ten years and this is the first time that I've had to resort to masturbation."
As those words were spoken, she began to push the rounded bar between her vaginal lips.
"Unnngghhh! Ohhhhhhh! That feels sooooo good!" she moaned as she contorted her body to the friendly invasion.
She began moving the bar back and forth, in and out, a quarter of an inch at a time, gently massaging her entire slit. She began fantasizing that the bar was black and long. She looked down and wished that it was attached to Leroy. In, out; in, out; in, out; she plunged the bar over and over again.
She bit her lower lip as she began to feel the first surge of sexual release emanating from the deep recesses of her cunt.
Suddenly she stopped. She quickly pulled the bar out of her nest and moved it up her body. She placed it in her hands and lathered them vigorously. She then placed the lather into her hair and began rubbing her scalp with desperate intensity. She was vigorously washing her scalp in an attempt to cleanse her mind of masturbation fantasies. Unfortunately, with her hands raised above her head, her titties were pointed directly at the spray, and the little water droplets were heightening her arousal that much more.
"Damn!" she said with alarm. "I've got to get out of this shower before I turn into a nympho."
She quickly rinsed her hair, turned off the shower, and began drying herself. And yet, her subconscious was in an extremely excited state of arousal. She couldn't shut it off. As she looked at a tube of toothpaste she saw a penis. As she looked at the underarm deodorant she thought of a dildo-a big green dildo. As she put some liquid soap on her hands she thought of thick viscous sperm dribbling out of her nest.
"Maybe it's something I ate for breakfast," she said to herself. "I've never been this turned-on before. Never." She was beginning to believe that she had turned into a vagina overnight.
Just as that thought was going through her mind she heard a voice call, ""Honey! Honey! I'm home."
She was somewhat startled when she first heard the voice. "Herschel! Is that you?" she shouted.
"Yes, honey. It's me. I'm home."
She hurriedly put on a bathrobe and wrapped a towel around her damp hair. She rushed out to the hallway and asked, "Herschel! What are doing home at this time of day? You're supposed to be at work."
"I want you to sit down," he said meekly, not looking at her. "I have something to tell you."
She was suddenly quite worried. Herschel, although a total wimp, was usually straightforward with his responses. She sat in the middle of the couch, and he sat immediately across from her in the easy chair.
"I don't know how to tell you this," he said with his head bowed, "but I've been laid off from my job."
She was quite relieved. "That's okay, honey. You'll find another job."
"Sweetheart, have you looked at the classified ads lately? There isn't any kind of job available anywhere that pays a decent wage-at least not for a man. For the short term, there's only one solution. You're going to have to find employment."
She looked at him, her blue eyes widening into large orbs. "But honey! I haven't worked since I graduated from high school! Where am I supposed to find employment? Doing what?"
He looked at her and smiled. "That's the good news. I've heard that you can get a job at the Kitty-Kat Club. They're hiring."
"The Kitty-Kat Club?" She had a confused look on her face. "What's that? I've never heard of it."
"It's a nightclub type of place over there in the black section of town. I've never been there, but I've heard that waitresses who work the night shift can make a small fortune in only a matter of a few weeks."
"I don't like the sound of this. Surely there must be something else that I can do."
"Would you just check into it for me please? It wouldn't hurt to check it out."
"Herschel, are you sure that you can't find a job?" she asked as if searching for a way out of working at a nightclub.
"I'm sure," he replied without hesitation.