Miss Lulu Comes to Hollywood

Both of the gorgeous women came at nearly the same time, Lucretia from my dogging and Cissy from her revolving-headed, vibrating dildo. I stayed with Lucretia until she slowed, stopped and relaxed, with her sister still licking at our junction. Then I began plunging onto her again very hard and fast, until the crescendo of her whines reached fever pitch...and let myself go. Withdrawing so that just my cock head was in her pussy, I spewed a couple of shots inside her, then pulled all the way out to where Cissy's open mouth was waiting. I spent the rest of my load on the white deputy sheriff's tongue, which she gulped down between squeaky yelps of pleasure.

The next few hours flew by, with me screwing the two half-sisters in tandem, often stacked one atop the other. I knew that Lucretia would be gone for the remainder of the week – until Friday – so I wanted to get my fill of her. Before they left after midnight, she kissed me and whispered, "Please stay away from Millie, honey. Cissy'll be here all week ta watch over her an' make sure she takes her birth control. An' if the pressure gets ta be too much for y'all," she murmured, stroking my privates and grinning, "jus' give my sister a call, okay?"

The next two days went by quickly. On Wednesday afternoon I began to feel the itch for female companionship. Why not invite Millie and Cissy over for a barbecue? I thought. Nothing sexual. Just for company. I called and Millie answered. "Ooh, Hollywood, ah miss y'all so much!" she crooned. "Ah bin workin' sohard, and Cissy's watchin' me like a hawk! Ah'd luv to come and eat wit' y'all! Oops...here come Cissy. Ah'll put her on."

I heard some words spoken rather harshly in the background, then heard their screen door slam. Looking out of my bedroom window toward their place, I saw Millie, in her tight, blue maid's uniform, stalk out and sit down on their front porch with her legs hanging over. She appeared to be wiping her face with her hand...perhaps crying.

"Why not come over for dinner?" I asked Cissy. "I've got a pork loin I could cook up, and a new sauce I've been working on!"

"Ohh...we better not, Hollywood. I got my hands full with Millie, and I don't want ta tempt her by bein' round y'all."

"Whattaya mean, Cissy? It's just dinner!" I retorted.

"Listen, darlin', y'all don't know what a devil she is!"

I found this statement amusing, coming from Cissy. "I do too! Remember why Lucretia asked you to stay for a couple of weeks?"

"It ain't jus'you, Hollywood! When I took her to the preacher's and the mayor's ta clean, I almost had ta do the job myself! Both them ol' goats was sniffin' aroun', rubbin' they crotches 'n' lookin' for an excuse ta paw her! I watched her too! She brings it on herself...sashayin' aroun' 'n' stickin' her butt in the air!"

"Well...then when can I see you two?" I asked, subdued by her tattling.

"Maybe Friday, after Lulu gets back," she responded. "An' Hollywood? Please don't say nothin'. But, t'day when I was in town at lunchtime to shop, I came back an' Millie was in the woods back o' the house with them two boys from yo' project. Y'know, the carpenters."

"Jake and Rufe?"

"Yeah. The white one had her bent over an' was givin' her the business, an' the young brother was leanin' against a tree while she was suckin' his cock!" she said, disgustedly. "I chased 'em off, threatenin' 'em with bein' fired!"

"I guess she's quite a handful," I admitted, wishing I hadn't used that particular simile, since the image of Millie's full breasts immediately entered my mind.

"More 'n' you know, baby...more 'n' you know," she finished, quietly. Then she hung up. Again I looked toward their bungalow, saw the screen door open, and watched Millie walk dejectedly inside.

So, I just barbecued a few slices of pork and steamed some veggies while sipping my old standby, Jack Daniel's. I realized how spoiled I'd become since first meeting Lucretia. I almostexpected to be serviced sexually by one of her enlarging circle. But that didn't help the way I feltnow. Much like Millie, apparently, I was wanton and neededmore. After my cigar and more whiskey I sat on the bedroom deck in the dark, clad only in shorts...sweating...and looking at the lights coming from Lucretia's bungalow. It was late when I slipped into my sandals, grabbed my keys and mumbled, "Fuck it," to unlock the gate and, drunkenly, take the long trek through the high grass in the dark toward the flickering, beckoning lights. My glandular, masculine hunger had overpowered my good sense.

I tapped lightly on their closed door and there was no answer. Both Millie's Bronco and Cissy's sedan were parked outside, though, so I became curious. I tapped again, since the lights were on inside, and I waited. Nothing. I sat down on the edge of the porch and stared at the moonless heavens, the sky blanketed with stars, and I heard a long, low, moan. I shook my head as if imagining it and heard another...then another. Getting up, I walked past one open, screened window to another, this one lit by a flickering light. What I saw caused surprise, but didn't really shock me.

The room, with a bed against the wall, was softly lit by two large candles, each burning brightly on two low chests, one beside the bed and another at its foot. They infused the space with an almost surreal glow, which illuminated the two sweating, sublimely female, black and white bodies undulating together on the sheets. Cissy' head was lying between Millie's widespread legs, poised above the girl's vulva, with her tongue lapping at the teenager's swollen chocolate labia, eliciting repeated mewls as the teenager's head thrashed back and forth. "Oooohh, Miz Cissy, that feels sogooood!" said the passionate girl, now looking to me like a virtual slave to sex. "Could y'all bring me off one mo' time...then c'n we use that big plasticthang? Ah need it somuch, an' ahpromise ah won't be bad no mo'."

Wow! I thought, as Cissy dug further in to flick at Millie's clit. What a trade-off! Keep the girl from becoming pregnant by keeping her busy yourself! I'd often wondered if that had been a strategy used by nuns in parochial schools and convents. In any case, the picture of the two was luminescent, with their naked, shining limbs lit by the golden rays of the flickering candlelight. "Ah'm gonna cum now, Miz Cissy. Yo' gonna make me cum! Yeah! Yeah! Ah'm cummin'...ah'm, oh sweet Lawd...ah'm cummmm-miiiiiin'! Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh! Nnnngh...nnnngh, oh, Miz Cissy...ah'm...nnnngh."

As Millie reached for her, to embrace her I thought, Cissy raised up and grabbed her huge, double-ended dildo. Not a bashful woman, this! I thought. And before Millie had ceased panting from her last orgasm, Cissy had spat on the end of the latex probe and begun worming it into the black girl's cunt. "Yew little bitch!" she crowed, "ah'm gonna show y'all what to do when them studs ain't aroun'!" and she laid down with her shapely legs on each side of one of Millie's, like a pair of open-bladed, interlocking scissors, and plugged the opposite end of the dildo into herself.

They immediately began keening high in their throats and thrusting at one another. I felt as if I were an intruder – perhaps a nosey servant – peeking through a curtain at a mistress's most intimate secret practices. But I stayed, riveted in the open window by prurience and whiskey, watching...being stimulated...and wondering at the ramifications of it all. They grasped hands, pulling their pelvises together in a rhythm as old as womankind, occasionally grasping one of their own breasts, yet pulling...pulling...so that their loins could mesh in countless sperm-less fusions. And soon their plunges brought at least one each of their hands to their clitorises, there to rub themselves to ecstasy. Many minutes passed, yet I was transfixed, watching as they worked one another to a frenzy, then I nearly stopped breathing as Cissy climaxed. It was sogentle, with Millie writhing against her as their hormones fed their respective orgasmic, brain cells.

As Cissy's moaning and quivering stopped, I stepped back from the window, accidentally making a noise. Millie immediately saw me and jumped off the bed, leaving poor Cissy to grope after her. I'd already turned to go back to my humble trailer – perhaps to have a drink and another smoke – and go to bed, and was 400 feet into the hip-high grass, weaving drunkenly.

I was chuckling to myself at the irony of the whole thing, when I heard the screen door slam and Cissy scream, "Millie, you get yo' ass back in here!"

"No, ma'am!" shouted Millie, defiantly, who – as I turned around – was running toward me in the dark, wrapped in a flannel bathrobe with its tails flying.

I was transfixed, since I'd never experienced the sight of a black, teenage goddess running toward me partially clothed in tall grass. But in seconds she was there and I clumsily tripped backward on a stone to fall on my ass. She was on me in a flash, pinning me to the ground and drooling into my mouth while stripping open my shorts. "Sorry, Millie, I...".

She interrupted me by dropping a large, pendulous breast into my open mouth, which I gratefully sucked until she proffered the other one. When her nipples were sufficiently hard she pulled away and began kissing me from my face, down my neck, to my chest. Her lips and tongue were ceaseless and I started to giggle because she was tickling me with her soft fingers, which were flitting everywhere across my belly and groin. Like a woman possessed, she straddled me and worked her dripping mouth down my torso to my cock, which was now half-hard. We rolled over and over in the tall grass with her sucking my lengthening probe, the hot smells of the meadow still ripe from late afternoon...as Cissy – standing naked on the porch – scanned the grassy field pointlessly with her flashlight.

"Tonight I'm gonna get yew, Hollywood," Millie whispered, stating her resolve, and taking my entire length first into her mouth, then her throat. I finally realized that Cissy couldn't see us, hidden as we were in the tall grass, so I relaxed, allowing Millie to bring me to full tumescence. "Ah don' care what Miss Lulu says, that ol' dyke bitch, Cissy, ain't gonna keep me from gettin' what ah need. C'mon, Hollywood, gimme yo' juice!" she demanded, pulling her wet lips off me and planting her feet on the ground to squat over my vertical prick. She'd never smelled better, I flashed, relishing the ripe, fecund odor of her vagina's juices. With one hand on my left shoulder and the other on my cock, she suddenly sat down on me, absorbing my entire length into her boiling center. Her cervix dilated to absorb my glans and grip at it, and I groaned as her clasping vagina clutched at my root as a smile lit her face in the dark. "Yeah, baby, ahknew it'd end up like this! They c'n fuck with us all they want with them pills...'n' the preacher c'n tell me howevil ah be...'n' the mayor c'n tell me how ah 'mbarrass ev'body...but ah know we be right, darlin'. When ah feel yo' hot stuff shootin' up inta me, ah know it's right!"

On that hot night, rutting like beasts in the tall grass – even with me being as drunk as I was – my organs provided her with what she wanted. The stars in the sky burned permanent positions in my brain as Millie conquered my body and millions of sperm entered her young womb. My mind, however, betrayed me. My lazy moral code, if I had any at all, overrode any true empathy I felt for her. Our cultures had crashed into one another, and in the wreckage lay her shattered hope of parenthood with me. The dreams of my loving laundress and cleaning girl were soon to be shattered, since it seemed that fate had dictated we remain apart.

Conclusion

It had been a year since I'd returned to the west coast and reclaimed my beach front apartment, which I'd previously sublet to go to Tennessee. I was very busy at work, and missed no longer being the company representative on-site. To a great extent, Lucretia had seen to that – to keep me away from her cousin – insisting to my business partners that I could be better used at the home office.

Millie had recently given birth to a light brown baby, which was no surprise given her rebellion at birth control. She'd also gotten a small place of her own, not far from our housing development. Though twelve months had passed since we'd last coupled, she'd insisted that the child was "Hollywood's," invoking divine intervention as the reason. As it turned out, Jake was the father but – since Millie insisted their union hadn't been sanctioned by the Lord – they'd not stayed together nor married.

Back on the west coast, my social life had returned to what I'd previously considered normal: a little surfing, a little beach volleyball...a little playing with young ladies. What wasn't normal were my constant, unrelenting, memories of Millie and the gut-wrenching pleasure she'd shown me when we'd mated. I hurt from not seeing her...holding her...loving her. Mornings I'd awaken, shaking off sexually graphic dreams – sometimes with emotional groans – of her phenomenal body and the selfless pleasures she'd shown me. These memories were kept alive every couple of weeks by the little devil mailing me a red bandana, sealed in a plastic bag. Each one had been used as a rag to soak up her copious vaginal juices, the odors of which would last a week or more. At one point she'd asked me to send her some ofmy fluid samples, but I'd declined, instead laundering the bandanas and sending them back. But I always kept a newly received one from her in my bedside stand to activate my fantasies of her chocolate body early in the day.

It'd happened just this morning. It was 6:30 a.m. and I was looking up at the ceiling, wondering how I'd act at seeing Millie again. There was a warm female slumbering next to me in bed, and I nursed an erection as I privately sniffed at one of my Tennessee laundress's bandanas, getting more excited while fantasizing about the hot-blooded little southern girl.

"Can we take a walk on the beach...like yesterday?" asked my drowsy bedmate, interrupting my lurid daydream. "I got the biggest rush out of wearing my hot new bikini and heels...and the big straw hat and shades, with everybody looking at me on your arm! Did you hear them?" she asked, fishing for a compliment.

"Whaa, sho' 'nuff, Miss Lulu," I muttered to the luscious brown beauty in a terrible southern accent. "I heard at least one person say, 'That's Halle Berry. Who's he?'" Lucretia now spent a few days a month working in southern California, and miraculously lost her Cumberland foothill accent when staying with me, while monitoring our project work at its source. She beamed and rolled over, climbing on top of me to nestle my prick between her slick labia. "I've got a whole week off," I said, "so we can do anything y'all want."

I'd quickly stuffed the bandana under the mattress as she began to work my member into her, wondering how she'd react when she heard that our company president was sending me back to Tennessee for a month-long inspection tour.

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