Miss Lulu Comes to Hollywood

I couldn't believe it. After a few hours in the sack with this black, southern, teenage beauty, I was beginning to feel a much deeper affection! I looked at her innocent face, with her head nestled in my pale armpit as she continued to replenish and lick my spunk from her fingers. I looked at her dark body pressed against mine and marveled at its exaggerated curves. Here was a "breeder," I thought...to use her cousin's word. And my animal libido stimulated a perverse desire to fill her full of sperm! How many thousands of white boys had been tempted over the centuries by the extraordinary physiques of African-American women into planting their seed without a responsible thought as to the consequences. How many millions?

"Millie, honey. I've noticed you don't wear underwear," I said.

"Don't got but two pair. They too hot when ah'm washin' an' ironin'. Ah wears 'em ta church an' then jus' panties when ah gets the curse, jus' to hold in the...you know. Why? Y'all want me to?" she asked.

I chuckled, "No, baby, just curious. What are you? 36D-21-36?"

"Mah Lawd, Hollywood. You amazin'! Betcha knew 'cuz o' them movie stars y'all know. Mmm-mmm-mmm. Mah man got sharp eyes!" she murmured, leaning over and planting a wet kiss on my jaw. I was silent. Then she breathed, "Hollywood?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Wuz wonderin'. Ah c'n stay 'til mornin'...maybe six. T'night, could you, ya know, show me what it's like ta do mah butt? Ah mean, since ah'm gettin' the curse this week, ah'll wanta keep y'all satisfied, so...ah cleaned mahself out wif' the douche bag an'...ain't never done it befo'...but ah trus' y'all."

As I moved to my knees and placed Millie in front of me in the canine position, I kissed and licked her all over her beautiful, hourglass back, waist and ass, then lovingly licked up her deep crack to taste her rich fluids. She gasped with each pass of my tongue and moaned as I finally pierced her tight anus with my cock. We proceeded on, for what seemed to take hours, before we were completely fused together. As we gently humped, with her fingering her clit at my urging and me holding her tightly by her wasp waist, I decided against telling her that I'd be visiting all of her openings during the upcoming week, regardless of any of her phobias...regardless of whether she menstruated or not.

Part 3

Early Monday morning, after Millie had left, I went online to Frederick's of Hollywood and ordered four sets of sheer, lacy bras and panties for her. Hoping for the correct fit, I chose an Hispanic model with a similar figure and specified black, red, pale blue and gold for each set. The panties were cut very high on the side, to emphasize my little lover's goddess-like hips and thighs. FedEx would deliver them within two or three days, I was told.

Late Monday night I heard her Bronco slide to a halt on the gravel road outside the fence. As usual, the noise of the lock clicking closed brought anticipatory pulses to my groin. Millie entered, looking disheveled, and flopped on the bed in her maid's uniform. "Mah Lawd, I'm tired. I got the curse t'day. Hollywood, c'n ah jus' maybe lemme suck y'all an' ya drain in my ass? Ah'm so tired ah could sleep all night!"

"Sure, honey. But we don't have to do a thing if you don't want to. Lemme undress you," I said, which I did, noticing for the first time her white cotton panties, designed for a 60-year-old. "Let's get rid of these," I said, pulling them to her ankles amidst protestations. In their crotch was another red bandana, matching the one anchoring her ponytail.

"Oohh, Hollywood, no! Ah'm amess." The word sounded like may-uss. "The curse be the Lawd's punishment fo' mah filthy dirty thoughts."

No, sweetheart, I thought, this is your body's way of telling you that you haven't conceived in the past 28 days. "Here, baby, put these towels under you if you're worried about soiling the bed." I placed two burgundy bath towels on the sheets and she scooted atop them. "Now, let me hold you...kiss you...and let the chips fall where they may!" I added, cheerily.

"Aaahh...Gawwd...Hollywood...you be so good ta me. When y'all look at me with them baby blue eyes...and hol' me, ahmelt...ah cain't stop mahself!"

The tampon was quickly stripped from Millie's vagina and for the next two nights we made sloppy, bloody love, adding to a growing pile of dirty towels...and red bandanas.

The FedEx package didn't arrive 'til Thursday. That night Millie arrived shortly after I'd turned on my "signal light," the lamp on my bedroom table. She'd regained her energy after the onslaught of her period, and kissed me deeply as she swept into my bedroom. One hand was already into my shorts – which I'd left on – before she realized that tonight was different. "Thought you might be able to use these," I said, boyishly, handing her the uniformly descriptive FedEx package, which didn't last long in her small, strong fingers.

"Mah Lawd...Hollywood," she said, suddenly through tears streaming down her smooth cheeks, "ah luv 'em. Nobody's ever...nobody'severgave me nothin' nice as this!"

"Try 'em on, sweetie. I hope they fit!" I urged, which they did. She chose the gold set which, I was pleased, contrasted so beautifully with her dark skin. She slipped into them, pranced around and posed, and a half dozen times jumped on the bed, lavishing me with kisses.

"They beautiful, Hollywood; I wish y'all had a camera! Then y'could put me in yo' album!"

"I've got a camera, Millie. I'll take our picture!" I said, "...and I'll print one out for you!"

I threw on a pair of shorts, set up my digital camera with a six-second delay on the nightstand, and we took a series of shots. The one Millie chose as her favorite was of her pressed against my side, her chain-like braids against my naked right torso, with her black right arm crossing to my left pectoral. Her heavenly smile was radiant and – to put the signature stamp on our tryst – she'd lifted her right leg up so that her knee covered my groin, which was clothed in shorts. There was little doubt as to what had cemented our relationship. Like the pictures of innumerable gorgeous women in my album, this digital photo would communicate what had brought us together. I printed one and gave it to her, after which she outdid herself in showing me her thanks. That was the night, much to my dismay, that she confessed her love for me.

In the morning she was gone, along with her new underwear and our suggestive picture. I was exhausted, given our strenuous coupling. It was Friday, the day when her comely cousin, Lucretia, would return from Nashville and meet with me about the project, and both Millie and I agreed that we might not see one another again 'til perhaps the next evening, which was her cousin's usual night out.

The meeting with Lucretia was light-hearted but productive. She never failed to let me know she could be a difficult hurdle to jump on the project if push came to shove. Lots of changes were made on our drawings. And she kidded me continually, trying to get me to drop my guard. "Notice y'all learned ta shave this past week, Hollywood! Could it be y'all 're tryin' ta get on my good side?"

"Whaa, whatever do you mean, Lucretia?" I deadpanned, playing along in a bad southern accent.

"Imean, when are ya comin' up ta Nashville?" she said, smoothing her paper thin, multi-colored, flowered skirt around her thighs. The mocha skin of her smiling knees and rippling calves flashed shiny under the fluorescent lights. I flashed on the thought that there's nothing as erotic as a woman with great, tanned legs – without nylons or pantyhose – who wears a flimsy, translucent skirt ending just above her knees, as I looked at her. On top she wore a thin, sleeveless, yellow top that ended short of her waist, showing an appetizing slice of brown midriff and a glimpse of navel. I was beginning to wonder why all women didn't wear the see-through rayon or cotton clothing that these southern women preferred. Was there also? – yes, there was! – a thin gold link chain surrounding her hips just above her skirt's waistband! At that point, even the way her golden, ankle-strapped, heels hugged her feet had me nearly drooling.

"Nashville's quite a ways away," I countered, wanting to bite my knuckle from repressed lust.

"Booshit, Hollywood! Gimme a call on, say, Wednesday, an' I'll fix ya up with a room an' we c'n do some music nex' weekend!"

"I'll think about it," I mumbled, dreaming of how much easier it would be to spend the following weekend in the worshipping arms of Millie, who now loved me.

"You do that, Hollywood. An'this weekend, if y'all run outta things ta do, gimme a call at home. Here's the number." It was absurd for her to give me her phone number, since all I had to do to gain her attention was to walk onto the deck outside my bedroom and wave my arms at her bungalow a half mile away across the grassy meadow. But, she was a pivotal decision maker on our project, and this act of hers was one of pure, bureaucratic style rather than substance.

"Thanks. I'll stay in touch," I mumbled to her as she got into her government-issued vehicle and sped away. She'd looked scrumptious – like Halle Berry – and I felt little guilt at feeling so lusty for her, even after spending the week banging her teenage cousin.

Out of sorts and refusing to dwell on my sexual hang-ups, I took to the bottle. I'd bought a case of Jack Daniel's when I'd arrived in Tennessee, and had made quite a dent in it. This night, I ached when I thought of sweet Millie...and drank. Eating a few leftovers and continuing to sip whiskey, I stripped naked and sat on my outdoor bedroom deck, once again sweating my ass off. After a while I moved inside, drew the curtain across the open door, and flopped on the bed to pass out. It was nearly midnight when I snapped awake to the growl of the Bronco's engine outside the fence. My heartbeat picked up as I listened to the gate lock click closed and heard feet running toward the open sliding door. I switched on my bed lamp just as heels sounded on the outside deck and, there she was.

Standing in the doorway was Lucretia...glowing with a sheen of perspiration and carrying a bottle of Southern Comfort, which already had some booze missing from it.

"How'd you get in?" I asked, dumfounded. She shook Millie's key ring at me in response, with a tipsy but riveting smile on her face that said,Gotcha!

I grabbed for my cargo shorts on the floor next to the bed and she laughed, "Oh, don' cover up 'cuz o' me, Hollywood!" She staggered a bit as she walked toward the bed. "I been itchin' ta git a look atcha' naked, anyway!" I threw the shorts over my groin haplessly. She nearly fell onto the bed at my feet, landing on one buttock with one leg crooked and the other on the floor like an outrigger. She was wearing a filmy, dark brown, micro miniskirt and I caught a flash of naked pussy underneath it. On top she wore a short-sleeved, knit, cropped top in a copper color with a huge scooped neck that looped over one shining, light brown shoulder, revealing her finely boned clavicle. She leaned toward me and purred, "Y'all gonna get us some glasses 'n' ice, baby, or you gonna make a lady drink outta the bottle?" The stiff nipples on her full breasts drew my eyes immediately to her revealing top. I hopped off the other side of the bed and struggled into my shorts with my back to her. My ears burned as she exclaimed, "Mmm...nice buns, Hollywood, fo' a white boy!"

Returning from the kitchen with the glasses, I discovered that she'd switched on my porch light and was waiting outside, with her bottle sitting on the railing. "Here you go," I said, after pouring her a half glass.

She was wearing a pair of backless, copper, sequined heels that could have been bedroom slippers. No matter, theyclacked on the wooden deck as she paced unevenly back and forth. "Y'all couldn't wait, could ya,Romeo," she grumbled. "'Spite all the signals I gave ya, y'all had ta go 'n' nail my poor li'l retarded cousin!"

"Retarded?" I asked.

"Thas' right!" she spat, wheeling toward me. "Why d'ya think I took her outta school? She's got the IQ of an eight-year-old! I mean, that picture o' you two – so pathetically sweet – an' all that sexy underwear? An' now you've gone 'n' fucked her...done her good, too, I hear, more'n once! She thinksThe Lawd sent you here to give her babies! What happens when you knock her up, Hollywood? Y'all gonnamarry her?" she cackled, sardonically. "Y'all gonna take her back ta Manhattan Beach?"

"Well, I didn't think...I didn't know...".

"'Course ya didn't! What happens when y'all leave...in about a year? You've seen the girls 'round here! After a baby or two, by the time they're 20, they fat. At 25 they like blimps an' broke down from starchy food, back breakin' work 'n' child birthin'!"

I raised myself to sit on the L-shaped railing, trying to process what she was saying and feeling a bit ashamed...as any good white liberal would. I took a deep pull on my drink. "She's the sweetest girl I've ever known," I muttered.

"'Course she is! I've raised her since she was a toddler! Or didn't you think I was capable of maternal feelings?...or par-en-ting?" she glared, still pacing. "Y'all 're 35! Shiiit! You jus' another big-city white boy who's so smart he's dumb!" Suddenly she stopped, took a long sip, put her glass on the railing, and her mood changed. "I will say this, though. For her first real man, she sho' picked a pretty one," and walked toward me to nestle closely between my spread knees as I sat on the railing.

"Uuhh...Lucretia...this is really, uuh," I murmured, as she brushed my cheek with her full lips and caressed my thighs.

"Sshh, darlin'. She 'n' I talked 'bout y'all...how them baby blue eyes o' yours undressed us both when ya saw us, 'n' how ya made us both as wet as the month o' November when ya did it. How horny ya mus' get...all alone down here."

Then, manically, Lucretia's mood changed again and she stepped back a foot. "But, dammit, she's jus' a baby, an' I'm her guardian!"

"She's 18," I blurted out.

"Don' matter! I'll always be her adopted mama, an' I won't have you breakin' her heart! I'm puttin' her on the pill an', jus' ta make sure, I'm takin'other steps ta keep her where she belongs." Just as quickly as before, she stepped again between my legs and her manicured nails crept up my thighs. "Now, gimme one o' them 'Hollywood' kisses she tol' me about!"

"But she can...". I was stopped as her mouth covered mine and she stuck her long tongue in and out wantonly, to which I responded in kind. Our hands worked as well as our mouths. Dammit! I had no fucking self-control!...no discipline! As her fingers unfastened my shorts, mine stroked her breasts, tweaked her nipples, and slid down over her hips under the skirt to her moist treasure. We both moaned as our organs responded to each others' caresses. "She can see us out here!" I gasped for a moment as we broke our slobbery mouthing.

"Iwant her to," she breathed, as she tried to tug my shorts down. I knew I'd do it, damn my weakness. I raised slightly and the shorts fell to my ankles, then to the deck. "Mmm...yeeaah...," she mewled, as she squatted – knees widespread – and brought me to a full erection with both hands, plus many well-placed kisses and licks on and around the bulbous crown of my cock.Sluurrp...sluurrp...sluurp, was all that I heard from Lucretia, except for a few million crickets in the darkness beyond the fence in the grass and an occasional hungry mosquito. But not for long. I began moaning at her phenomenal, languorous, laving as she very softly asked, "Like my mouth, baby? It likes you! 'Fore we even get started, sweetness, ah'm gonna take yo' big, creamy load. C'mon...c'mon, gi' it ta me...aaanggsllppp.

"Jeezus...Lu-cre-tia..." I gasped, as she took me further, slowly, down into her throat. "You're...".

"Yeah, darlin'...I know I'm good," she said after pulling off, gaining her breath, and wanking me with copious amounts of spittle. Then she went back onto me, sometimes shaking her head sideways violently to get past reflexive obstructions. Finally, she established a continuous rhythm that – after several minutes of periodic breaks for air – brought me to the beginning of an orgasm. The last thing I consciously remember was looking down at the bronze goddess, whose eyes had never left my face, and giving her what she wanted.

I howled into the night, feeling absolutely taken by this southern sexual powerhouse. And she knew exactly what she was doing. My first shot nearly went deeply into her throat, yet she pulled off at exactly the right moment to take it into her mouth, which she gulped down noisily. At that point I watched her pull my spewing dick out to paint her lower face, then her copper-colored top, down her front across her belly, then onto her filmy micro-mini. She continued milking me with her hands, squeezing my seed onto her clothing until I was spent, then sucked me clean of any residue. When I'd finished my orgasmic babbling, she pulled me off the railing and into the bedroom. Once inside she switched off the outside light and stripped naked, wiping her face and dropping her messy, cum-laced garments on the floor. She did, however, leave her heels on her feet. The gold chain around her waist, with its ¼" links, shone brightly against her mocha skin in the dim bedroom light.

"Jeezus, you're a vision of loveliness," I gasped, without thinking, sounding much more poetic than I'd intended.

"Why...thank you, sir. So are you!" she said, as she walked, naked but for her high heels, to my chest of drawers to place her arms atop it with her back to me. She spread her legs about a foot apart and murmured, coldly, "Let's get started, sweetheart."

My cock was still flaccid after her blow job, but that soon changed. Her stunning hourglass figure, not as full as her younger cousin's though twice as muscular, started to tremble around her hip line. Soon her ass began to vibrate as I'd once seen on a Brazilian dancer in a strip club in Atlanta. The gold links on the chain encircling her waist began to quiver as if in response to the energy that was fairly bursting from her butt. Captivated, I whispered, "Fuck, Lucretia," as my dick began rising at the sight of her incredible muscular exertions.

"Exactly, Hollywood! I've waited weeks for y'all an' thas' long enough. Gimme yo' big cock, honey! Nail me like ya did Millie!" she implored, almost in a pleading tone. "Mmmmm, yeeaahh!" she intoned as my hands grasped her luscious brown hips and I moved behind her. The perfect roundness of her butt nestled beautifully into my stroking palms, and her gluteal dimples provided the ideal recesses for my thumbs, as I caressed her bronze fundament. "Nnngghh, aww, yeeaah!" she gasped, as I reached one hand between her legs to cup her vulva and gather fingers full of juice to smooth it onto my nearly-erect prick. "Put it in, honey...I wanna feel ya!" she cried, as I lubricated myself again, then teased the head of my stiff member through her swollen labia. "Thas' it!" she shouted as I entered her a few inches. "Aww, fuck!" she shouted again, as I dug more deeply into her, twisting and turning as she spread her stance more widely on the floor. "Hol' me up, baby...then do me real gooood!" she begged, as she turned sideways and bent over to grab her ankles, thrusting her luscious, vibrating pussy back against me.

With her high heels and unusually long legs, Lucretia's opening was exactly the right height for me to fuck her from behind while standing. Her vagina was also deep and remarkably elastic. I could feel her cervix, but it gave way with each deep thrust, allowing me to sink myself to my pubis with each push. I growled deeply in my throat as I pummeled her, from her G spot to as deeply as I could, and she began yelping with pleasure and clamping down around me as I withdrew. Our loins smacked together as our tempo increased and her gold waist chain jumped from each impact, glistening in the dim bedroom light. After several minutes both of us began to gasp for air and she rose up, turning half right to place her hands on my bed to support her upper body. It also allowed us to look across the bed into the mirror atop my dresser and see the pleasure we were bringing one another.