Chapter 1
Springdale was like any other medium-sized community anywhere in the United States. It had a Main Street, a Central Park, and a Memorial Cemetery. It had a John F. Kennedy high school, a Martin Luther King boulevard, and a Harry S. Truman municipal library. The older section of town contained well-constructed houses with large porches, and huge oaks spanning the front yards. Each older home was meant to last for a century, or at least, several generations. The newer section of town was overdeveloped by chintzy contractors who built pre-fab units made of el-cheapo plywood and plasterboard, meant to last only as long as the mortgage.
On the whole, Springdale was like Anywhere, USA.
When Fred and Donna moved into town they thought that they had found the ideal place in which to live. They had recently moved from a small town in the Deep South and were looking forward to making a go of it in a new section of the country. They were a very attractive couple. They looked like the Homecoming King and Queen of the local high school. They were both in their late twenties. Both were in robust health. They had perfect weight, perfect blood pressure, and no problems with high cholesterol
When friends asked how they maintained their tip-top shape, they would always answer, "We eat the right foods, get plenty fresh air, and walk the , straight and narrow path."
If nothing else, it was a good line.
Fred stood about five feet eight, as did Donna. When they walked down the street together people often thought that they were related simply because their heights were so similar. They had met in their sophomore year of high school in their small Southern town and had been together ever since.
He had been attracted to her outgoing personality, whereas she had been attracted to his gentlemanly manners. In an age when most males had forgotten how to hold a door open for a woman, Fred was always there to act chivalrous, be courteous, or say the proper thing at the proper moment. He was the last of a dying breed: the Southern Gentleman.
Donna was very pretty. She had the face of an All- American Girl. Perfect mouth, teeth, and nose. No need for orthodontic work or rhinoplasty-ever. She had bright blue eyes, buoyant brown hair, and a fair complexion which tanned easily.
She was trim-not petite-and stood as straight as an arrow. She was in remarkably good physical shape, which came from exercising regularly and eating properly. From all of her exercises she had developed a wasp-like waist with a firm little tummy. Fred frequently teased her that he could encircle her waist with his large hands and touch his fingertips.
She had an especially pleasing belly-button situated exactly midway between her pacifier and her satisfies Whenever she giggled it would spasmodically wink in and out as if it had a life of its own. Its elongated shape added to her mouthwatering sensuality.
Donna also had long, shapely legs that seemed to go on forever. They were firm all the way from her ankles to her crotch her girlfriends frequently commented about how attractive they were. It was no secret that they longed to have a pair as lovely. She kept them sleek and smooth by bathing and shaving them regularly. There was nothing she liked better after a hard day of exercising or jogging than to relax in a hot bath and massage her calves and thighs.
Her hips and breasts were curvaceous and symmetrical. Not too large, not too small-just right. She had what could only be described as "perky" titties. They were firm, slightly uptilted, and very succulent looking. They were the kind that men wanted to lick for hours at a time and women secretly coveted.
Because she had perfect posture and such a tiny waist she looked terrific in any piece of clothing. In fact, she was a knockout-all fit and trim and bubbling with sexuality. When she wore a bikini, she could give a hard-on to a eunuch. Yet, like so many truly lovely women, she was totally unaware of her own attractiveness.
Fred might have been partly to blame for her naivete because he was the kind of man who wanted "voluptuous" rather than "pretty". He never gave her the kinds of compliments that could build her self-confidence and self-esteem. It just wasn't in his nature to say, "My, but you look lovely today!", or, "You're truly beautiful." His wife could have been a stand-in for Cheryl Tiggs, whereas he was looking for Rachel Welch.
Although the average person on the street couldn't see it, Donna also had one of the prettiest pussies anywhere. It was oval-shaped and pouted outward nicely from beneath her firm incurving stomach. Whenever she was alone in the bathroom she would admire it for a moment or two in the mirror before taking a shower or reclining in the tub.
She liked to wash it carefully with soap and then rinse it gently with the best hair conditioner available. She thought nothing of spending thirty or forty dollars for a bottle. She found that regular lathering softened the pubic hair and made it nice to touch. She had heard that as women got older their pubic hair became bristly. Yuck! She didn't want that to happen. Like skin care, a woman needed to be concerned about her pubic hair at an early age.
She didn't know why she liked to pet her pussy, she just did. It especially felt delicious when she was relaxing in a nice warm bath. Then she would spread her thighs as wide as possible, reach down to her little triangle of fur, and spread the vaginal lips. She liked to feel the warm water rush into her vagina, and then rush back out of her innermost sanctuary whenever she squeezed her thighs together.
Donna was one of those rare women who took the time to trim away any unsightly pubic hairs.
Like most people she had one or two hairs which grew abnormally long-as if they were on steroids or something. To correct this she would sit on the toilet, spread her legs wide apart, and place a handheld mirror between them. She would then go to work with her little thinning shears and snip away those hairs which detracted from an attractive appearance. She liked to have a very nice oval coiffure between her thighs-one that was pretty to look at and fun to stroke. For some reason, it just seemed like the proper thing to do.
One day her friend Jill happened to walk into the bathroom when she was snipping away. "What on earth are you doing?" she asked.
Although somewhat modest, Donna replied without hesitation, "I'm giving my pussy a trim."
"Why?"
"I'm making my pubic region presentable."
Jill looked at her and exclaimed, "For god's sake, Donna! It's not going to be interviewed on 'Meet The Press'!"
"It makes me feel wonderful," Donna replied. "You ought to try it and you'll see."
"Are you sure that wonderful feeling is not due to your stroking it?" Jill asked with a smile.
"Now really! I know the difference between masturbation and a haircut. I'm sincere when I say that it makes me feel marvelous. You've got to try it. For my sake. Please."
Jill was skeptical, hut when a best friend pleads with you to try something new it's best to try what she's raving about. She hoisted her skirt and lowered her panties. She took the trimming shears from Donna and snipped away the unsightly pubic hairs. "I really can't believe I'm doing this," she said.
Donna giggled. "Just wait till you see the results."
Several minutes later, Jill was finished. She held the mirror between her thighs and looked at her auburn bush. "My god, Donna! You're right. It does make me feel more presentable."
"See! I told you."
"It makes me want to walk down the street without any undies and hold my skirt above my waist." She turned to Donna and said, "You should open a pubic hair salon and offer cunt coiffures. Your slogan could be 'Cunts-R-Us'."
Donna laughed. "My business wouldn't catch on until a celebrity paid a visit or two and spread the word. I would need someone like Connie Chung as a client. She could do wonders for a place like that."
Jill giggled. "Yea, I could just see her interrupting her news broadcast and saying, 'By the way folks, I had my twat trimmed at Cunts-R-Us today. Just look at the results. Aren't they marvelous?'"
Jill and Donna became the closest of friends and were soon exchanging pointers on how to improve their cutting techniques about the proper lotions, mousses, and jells to use. Because of her cunt discussions with Jill, Donna's curiosity about the genital region increased. She was starting to lose her inhibitions about discussing sex, but she still had a long way to go.
Whenever Donna walked down the street, men would rum their heads and stare. Not because she resembled the proverbial voluptuous centerfold, but rather because she was everyone's ideal of the All-American girl, sexy without knowing if, and beautiful, yet naive. She had all the right equipment, but none of the brash ego of those who flaunt it.
Many men who watched her sashay her tight little ass, or bounce her pert little breasts, also hungered to get her into the sack and fuck the living daylights out of her. It was not uncommon for male sales clerks to rub their crotches after she made a purchase and went on her way. And it certainly wasn't out of the ordinary for her to cause a twitching penis amongst construction workers.
However, she had never really had the living daylights fucked out of her because she was married to Fred, one of the most inexperienced-and hence, lousiest-lovers imaginable. His problem lay in the fact that he had married Donna at a very early age. He never had the experience of sewing his wild oats in any female other than his wife. Therefore, he never gained the experience necessary to fuck like a pro.
He was in great physical shape and worked continually on developing his pecs, delts, and biceps. Unfortunately, he spent very little time developing his lower back. This was a tragic oversight because that group of muscles was related to sexual stamina and endurance. If a man wanted a jackhammer dick, he had to have a powerful sacroiliac.
Somehow Fred had wound up with the prettiest girl in his high school graduating class, and everyone wondered what he had that was so special. A schoolmate of his once made the comment, "Either he has a dick the size of a horse, or he hypnotized that pretty little babe into marrying him."
No one could imagine Fred ever opening a book, so that ruled out the possibility of him being a hypnotist. Therefore, the rumor spread that he was hung like stud horse and could screw all night long in a variety of acrobatic positions.
Of course, that wasn't true either. He was no acrobat and had only the standard six-inch model penis with the regular pecan-size nuts dangling between his legs. He had wound up with Donna simply because he was the first man who happened to ask for her hand in marriage. That's it! That's all! In this regard, other men could take lessons from him.
He was also one of the hardest working men around. Whether it be in the oil fields, or in one of the numerous chemical plants where he managed to secure a job, he certainly put in a day's work for a day's wages. The poor fellow always came home at night covered with perspiration and worn to a frazzle. Many nights he simply plopped down on the couch and fell asleep-often to the consternation of Donna. After all, she was a sexually vibrant woman who wanted more from her man than the sound of snoring on the pillow next to hers. And her recent activities with Jill had only heightened her sexual awareness.
They were childless, but not because they hadn't been trying. He made love to his wife as often as possible- sometimes three or four times a month. And she went out of her way to insure conception. In this regard she was extremely old-fashioned. Furthermore, she never took birth control pills and always assumed the missionary position and spread her lovely legs only as wide apart as propriety would permit.
She yearned to try different positions. Jill had told her of the wondrous thrills which could be achieved in a doggy-position, or in a scissors-lock. And there were all those television shows that talked endlessly about sex: "Geraldo," "Donahue," and "Oprah." She would love to be booked on one of those syndicated shows and talk about her coiffured cunt, but Jill warned her that even Geraldo wasn't ready for that topic.
Donna wanted to be more assertive and aggressive during sexual intercourse, but kept her intentions to herself. After all, in her small Southern town a girl was raised to believe that the man of the household knew best about matters of sex, and that a woman shouldn't be too wanton in the bedroom.
Well, Fred didn't know diddly squat about sex. Although he was slightly older than his wife, sex was just as much a novelty to him as it was to her. They were virgins when they first got married and both were about as naive as a couple Thanksgiving Day turkeys being led to slaughter.
Fred never encouraged Donna to try any different positions. Primarily because he didn't know any, but also because he worried that she might become one of those liberated types of women. His buddies said that once a woman got on top during sexual intercourse, she would start thinking that she was the boss of cock. Within a matter of days she would take over the house and start barking orders as if she wore the pants in the household. Several of Fred's pals swore that they had lost control of their women because they allowed them to experiment with new positions.
Well, he wasn't about ready to allow that to happen. No sir. He was the man, and a man's home was his castle.
That philosophy might have been appropriate forty years ago, but things had changed radically in society and in the bedroom. However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his woman in line. Donna was making increasing suggestions of late for a little experimentation. Things might have remained on the back burner, or could have been resolved, if they had remained in their small Southern town.
But as fate would have it, they moved next door to Pam and Keith.
To say that Pam was "stacked" would be an understatement. The woman was a walking advertisement for sex in every way, shape, and form. When Fred first looked over the fence and saw her he couldn't believe that a female with that much sexuality radiating from her pores actually existed. She could have been a brunette model for the cover of an X-rated Sci-Fi comic book. Suddenly, all of his old- fashioned small town attitudes about sex started to wane. When he saw the sumptuous globes of her glorious ass pointed in his direction, fantasies that he had never entertained before started occupying most of his waking moments. Yea! She could get on top. Anytime she wanted. As many times as she wanted.
Fred looked at her working in the garden and stood absolutely motionless. Women as good-looking as her didn't really exist. No way. And her white blouse did nothing to hide her ample breasts nor her large nipples beneath. Her tan shorts were so snug that she appeared to have been poured into them. He blushed with surprise when he recognized the cleft of her vagina pressed against the material. It was clearly discernible.
Although Donna was incredibly attractive, she didn't radiate sex the way that Pam did. Pam, on the other hand, could have been a centerfold for the glossiest and dirtiest girlie magazine in existence. She looked like the type who wouldn't hesitate to star in a porno flick-and the more fucking involved, the more she'd probably like it.
He watched her squat down in front of her petunias. Her pubis pressed outward against the crotch of her shorts. It appeared to be yearning to burst free. Indeed, she looked good enough to eat. He had heard that men sometimes did that to women, but he had never attempted such a thing during his marriage to Donna, For some reason, his wife seemed like too fine of a woman to do that with, whereas Pam looked sultry, exotic, and Cajun. Any woman with a body like that obviously knew a lot more about sex than either he or Donna. He just wondered how much?
Like Donna she had very long and shapely legs, and a narrow, flat waist. But her breasts were larger and her ass was fuller-more rounded, more womanly. She didn't look like she exercised or jogged to achieve her physique. Her figure was either natural, or she fucked a lot to maintain it. Genetics had been kind to her.
She was evenly tanned on her arms, face, and legs, and from what he could tell her copper tan covered her entire body. He bet that she was one of those women who sunbathed in the nude and exposed her titties to the warming rays of the sun for an overall healthy effect. He had heard it rumored that women who exposed their breasts to the sun had especially tasty nipples. He wondered.
Fred could just imagine feasting for hours on those melons of hers. They were the size of succulent ripe cantaloupes standing out proud and firm, whereas Donna's were the size of grapefruit. There was nothing wrong with his wife's titties. In fact, they too were marvels of creation. However, like most men he wanted a little variety. After all, a man may own a Cadillac, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't like to take a Corvette for a drive.
Besides, deep down, Fred had always longed for a big- breasted woman. Dolly Parton was his ideal. A man could really get down to business with tits like those.
Pam saw Fred looking at her and waved. She got up from her garden and walked towards the fence. She stepped close and said with a. smile, "So, you're our new neighbors, eh?"
He was so taken with her alluring beauty that he was unable to speak. Her dark, olive complexion seemed extremely sensual.
When he didn't reply in response to her question, it was left for Donna to step over and say, "Why yes. We just moved in today. I'm Donna, and this is my husband, Fred."
Pam seemed a bit amused by the husband's inability to speak. She went through this all the time with men. She flashed her brightest smile, one which was meant to travel to a man's heart via his balls, and said in a husky whisper, "Hi Fred. Welcome to the neighborhood." For an added effect, she licked her lips sensually and left them covered with a thin film of glistening moisture.
He cleared his throat and replied, "Thank you. I hope to see more of you." He didn't mean the remark to be a double entendre, it just came out that way.
"I don't know how we can avoid it, being neighbors and all." She inhaled seductively and tilted her head coquettishly. She could tell that Fred didn't know the first thing about fucking. The way he stuttered when he spoke to her, the way he fidgeted in her presence, and the way he seemed to be perspiring more than normal, all belied the fact that he may be a good provider but a poor lover. Of course, in time and with the proper instruction, any man could be turned into a maestro of passion.
Pam couldn't figure out how Fred wound up with a savory little piece like Donna. The blonde had every attribute that she admired in a woman. Perfect posture, a very thin waist, and an overall physical symmetry.
She had been watching the trim little blonde walk back and forth to the car for several days. She longed to get between those firm shapely thighs and taste her nectar. She obviously tasted as sweet as dew-covered honeysuckle on a summer morn.
Pam decided to start up a conversation by saying, "Sure is a hot day for moving in, isn't it?"
Donna smiled and replied, "Oh, it's not so hot. We're used to it. We're from the Deep South where the temperatures usually hit ninety this time of year as does the humidity."
Just then she over Pam's shoulders and saw a large black man step from the side of the house. Because she came from a small town in the South, every black-and especially every black male-was suspect of something. Everyone knew that black males were always up to no good.
She whispered to Pam, "Psst! There's a nigger in your back yard."
Pam looked at Donna and asked, "What was that?"
"I said, 'There's a nigger in your back yard.' Right over there. Behind you. Do you want me to sneak inside and call the police?"
Pam laughed. "I hardly think that will be necessary. That's my husband, Keith."
Donna's eyes became as round as saucers. She couldn't believe that a lovely white woman had married a negro. No way. Pam had to be on drugs or something to accept a negro's hand in matrimony. It was unthinkable that anyone would marry a darkie. Things like that just didn't look right on the Society Pages.
Pam could see that Donna was having a great deal of difficulty accepting the idea of an interracial marriage. She almost burst out laughing. She thought that such silly fears had been discarded long ago. But apparently not. Here was a lovely little blonde who was going out of her mind with the idea of living next door to a mixed couple.
Pam decided to play this game for what it was worth. She called out, "Keith, darling. I want you to come over here and meet our new neighbors."
Donna's eyes rounded with surprise. She didn't want anything to do with Keith. She had no intention of speaking to him-ever. After all, a white woman's reputation could be ruined.
Keith stepped over and said, "Hello. It's nice to meet you." He extended a handshake, but she didn't take it.
At first, she didn't know what to say. She had never been introduced to a negro who was married to a white woman. And there wasn't anything in the etiquette books about this.
He dropped his hand. He had run into these types of bitches all his life. Sbe was just one more white cunt who believed in racial superiority. So be it. They were a dime a dozen in America. He prepared to go on his way. He had better things to do than spend time with a racist.
Donna had to admit that for a black man Keith was extremely handsome. In fact, she was surprised to find herself attracted to him. He stood over six feet four and weighed about two hundred and twenty-pounds. His shoulders were broad, his hips were narrow, and his stomach was flat as an ironing board. If he weren't black, he would be her ideal of a perfect physique.
Because she was into physical fitness she sized-up the visual aspects of his body. His upper arms and delts were magnificent. His forearms were powerfully built and covered with protruding veins. Even his quadriceps and calves seemed chiseled upon an Adonis.
She decided to be friendly by saying, "Hi. I'm Donna."
Her voice was seductive, causing him to look at her more closely. He liked what he saw. This was a very, very pretty lady. Words like "scintillating" and "sexy" could describe his wife, but the word "pretty" was appropriate for Donna. She had that legendary peaches and cream complexion which belonged to an earlier era before suntans and beaches. Usually women who didn't have a tan looked pale and sickly. But not this woman. She was as healthy and as vibrant as a kudzu vine in June.
He would love to see what her body looked like without clothes. He was quite sure that she would rate a ten on a scale of ten.
Pam realized that their was some interesting chemistry going on. First Fred was unable to speak, now her Keith was struck with the same affliction. She smiled as a devious idea popped into her mind. "Hey! I've got an idea. Why don't we have a get together this afternoon over here by our pool. It would give us a chance to sit around, chit-chat, and get to know each other better."
"I...I...I don't think so," Donna stuttered. She wasn't quite ready to sit in mixed company- especially with a big, handsome negro.
"Aw come on!" Pam exclaimed. "It would do y'all good," she said with a Southern drawl, hoping to sound especially friendly. "C'mon over and sit a spell with us. We could sit by the pool and keep cool. Bring your bathing suit."
Now Donna was really worried. The last thing she wanted to do was to expose her body to a negro's gaze. Everybody knew what animal passions they had around an exposed white woman. "Oh, I don't think so, Pam. Thank you for the invitation."
Pam realized that it was going to be a hard sell, so she asked Donna's husband, "Fred! Why don't you two come on over this afternoon for a little party? Huh? What do you say? Don't you think that would he a good idea?"
Fred, who was always a gentleman, said, "Sure. That sounds nice. In fact, it sounds terrific." He turned to his wife and asked, "Donna, why don't we take them up on their offer? It sounds all right with me."
"Oh, do you really think we should, Fred? I mean, we're new in the neighborhood and all. We don't want to impose ourselves on our new neighbors."
"Imposition, hell!" Pam exclaimed. "You're our guests. We'd be delighted to have you. We'll have some drinks, listen to some music, and talk."
"Oh, I wouldn't want you to go out of your way to buy anything," Donna said.
"Nonsense," Pam replied with a smile. "We give parries all the time. It won't take Keith any time at all to make some drinks. I won't take 'no' for an answer. Now you both be over here at five o'clock sharp. Do you understand me?"
"We'll be there," Fred replied, his eyes gazing at Pam's incredibly scintillating figure. He couldn't wait to see her in a skimpy bathing suit so that he could survey the lines of her body even more closely. Mmm. She was one great looking piece of ass.
Donna blushed deeply. She realized that she was in a precarious position. So, she agreed. She shook her head and said, "Sure. We'll be there."
She hurried off to the house, not sure what to think. But she was slightly angered by her husband's obvious sexual interest in the next door neighbor.
Meanwhile, he watched Pam's ass shake from side to side as she too walked away. He was thinking of doing her doggy- style. Ah! To ram it into her from behind would be one the premier joys of my life.