Not a Beautiful Woman Ch. 05

The previous night, they had watched a porn movie called "Black Poles and White Holes." Naturally it was about white women fucking black men, individually and in groups. It had made her a little uncomfortable and she wondered why Daddy had chosen it. Maybe there was something that he needed to get over but couldn't. What bothered her was the fact that one of the men was a dead ringer for Eli, though upon closer scrutiny, she could see the resemblance was superficial. After the film, their sex was quick and somewhat perfunctory (for them). She choked down any concerns and acted normally. The next morning, after being awakened by Daddy's tongue, she got out of bed, fixed him a lunch and walked him to the door, naked of course. As he left, he cupped her breast and lightly pinched her nipple, thus promising a better night to come.

As she was getting ready for his return that evening, she found a run in the stockings that she had planned to wear. This was one of those annoyances that she had pondered earlier. Daddy was kind and tolerant, but he hated runs in her stockings. He'd said before, "You wear the stockings so that your great legs look perfect. Runs do not help achieve that goal. Spend what you need to spend, but I want your legs to always be perfect." Compared to what she knew other girls went through with their men, it seemed little to ask. And besides, the way he ran his eyes up and down her body, not only drinking in every aspect but appreciating, truly appreciating her, never failed to melt her heart and make her pussy flow. They really seemed to have the best of both worlds: raw hot sex together with love of the soul. So, she forced herself to be very careful about her stockings.

She had tried a variety of colors but always came back to flesh-toned. White was for brides and she was no virgin. Red was a fantasy color, but the way they conducted their relationship, the quasi-slavery, was fantasy enough. Grey was just, well, grey. Black was her second favorite color because it was sexy. Nothing advertised sex like black stockings. Just put on a pair and, viola, instant slut! Yet her name was "Slut" so black stockings added less to her attraction than they might to others. In Daddy's analytical way, he'd said "The relevant question is, do they improve the appearance of your legs?" In his opinion they didn't and she had to agree. Her legs looked best in flesh-toned stockings and runs ruined the effect, so she kept a fresh supply of expensive ones on hand.

She opened her small closet to look in the drawer where she usually kept her new packs. Reaching for the handle, she brushed against a dress and the motion caused another dress to slip off its hanger and drop. As she reached to pick it up, she realized that it was THE dress; the thin, clingy halter top black mini-dress that she'd worn the night of her party. Oh, what a time that had been! So exciting to flaunt her slutish nature to the world; to present herself openly to four black studs; to strut the street brazenly advertising that to all who would look, and dozens in cars and on the streets had looked, that she was proud to commit the dirtiest act any white woman in the South could--not to just fuck a black man, but to give herself to four of them at a time. To walk along the outside hallway of the motel with two of them obviously fondling her ass and breasts. To spread her legs and allow another of them to finger fuck her as she bent to unlock the door. God! She hoped that hundreds of people had seen her and known her for the complete slut that she was.

And then inside the room, sucking and fucking and swallowing their cum. That was the best idea she'd had about the whole affair, offering/demanding that they cum in her mouth instead of her pussy or ass. Fucking her three at time, filling all her holes while the fourth nibbled her nipples. And how many times had she climaxed? Six? Ten? She'd lost count.

And then, at ten o'clock, the three that Eli had recruited left and she gave him his "special 30 minutes." Large, fit, masculine Eli; always in control despite having such an easy-going and jocular disposition. Possessing a keen wit behind a very loose interpretation of the grammatical rules of the Queen's English. Such an interesting man. As they both had been wearied by the vigorous activities of the preceding two hours, their foreplay was short and their final act of sex, in form anyway, perfunctory. He had mounted her in the missionary position and began pumping. But he had already cum twice that evening and was nearly spent. So, she began kissing his nipples and squeezing his ass, just as she did for Daddy. That helped, but she sensed that he needed more. She quit kissing his chest, pulled down his head, licked his ear and whispered, "Oh, I've swallowed so much black cock cum that my belly's full. Please shoot it off inside me. Fresh hot cum in my belly always gets me off. Give me yours, please, baby. Give it to me." And that did the trick. Grunting and groaning he let go of what he had and she made sure to drain him dry.

Afterward, he had waited while she took a quick shower so that he could say goodbye.

"Maggie, baby girl, when I gonna see you again?"

"Eli, I already told you that tonight would be the only time. You'll remember it, won't you?"

"The fact that it was a good time or the fact that it's the only time?"

"Both," she said. "I'm sorry, but the way my life is, I just can't make a habit out of this, no matter how much I liked it, and I liked it a lot. But if it helps, I'll always remember that you made it possible." She reached out and took his hand, and said, "I know it wouldn't have happened without you there to find the men and make sure I was protected. You let me be confident and relaxed enough to really let go and I won't ever forget." She kissed him on the cheek and opened the door to let him out. With a longing backward glance, he turned toward the stairs and walked quickly away.

As she sat there thinking in Daddy's apartment in front of the mirror, she remembered everything, every step, every word, every caress, every swirl, every thrust. Before she could stop it, her hand was reaching down to her pussy. She rubbed her clit and held the dress to her nose. She hadn't cleaned it after the party and it still smelled of her cunt. It took only a few moments for her to come. But, when she returned to her senses she thought, "Shit. Broke the No Cuming Without Permission Rule. The only question is, do I break the No Lying Rule, by not telling him. Can't do that. It might open a can of worms." So, she decided to play it safe.

Suddenly she remembered that it was close to the time that Daddy always got home and she was a mess. Without another shower, the smell of her pussy on her own hands would rat her out, but time was short. She hastily took another shower, hurried her makeup and hair and finished getting ready. She only made it just in time.

Later that evening, after she and Daddy had finished fucking and eating and the dishes were put away, he went to bed and she went to the bathroom. As she was washing her hands, she looked into the mirror and was shocked to find that in her hurry, she'd done her eyeliner in the same "slutty Egyptian" way as on her party night. She'd never done it that way before, nor since. She was a bit surprised that Daddy had said nothing. But she supposed that men have a tendency to look more at a woman's tits, legs, and ass than her face, particularly when she's dressed like a whore in a cat house. Or maybe he did see it and liked it. Either way, it was an indication that her obsession was rising again and she had to do something.

About ten the next morning, she dug out the black clutch that contained the note with Eli's number. Thinking it unlikely that he'd be home during the day, she thought she might at least leave some kind of message. She was both rattled and excited and didn't know what from which. As the ringing on the other end began, her mind wandered. She'd lost track of the number of rings and was about to hang up when she heard the receiver lift and a sleepy voice mutter "Whazup?"

She didn't answer immediately. Her belly was tingling, her mouth was dry and it felt as if her throat was closing. He could obviously hear her breathing and knew somebody was on the line. In a severely irritated voice he said, "God damn it, Liza. Ain' I done told yo' crazy ass to quit callin' me? We done bitch. You get that, D-U-N, done!"

She found her voice just before he could hang up. "Eli, please don't hang up. It's Maggie."

Now it was his turn to be speechless. After a few moments, though, his natural cocky and jocular personality asserted itself and he said, "Damn, baby girl, after the time we had I sure expected to hear from yo' fine white ass before now."

"Well," she began, "I had made up my mind, like I told you then, that it was a 'one and done' because that sort of thing just didn't fit with my life."

"I know, baby girl, I remember. But you callin' ole Eli now, so what's changed? You got the itch again and need to scratch it, don't you?"

"It's not funny, Eli," she exclaimed, nearly in tears.

Trying to mollify her quickly before the crying got out of hand, he said, "I know, baby girl, I know. That's jus' my way of talkin'. You know what I think of you, don't you? Jus' calm down and talk to ole Eli. Tell him all yo' troubles."

It was amazing that she indeed felt as if she could tell "ole Eli" all her troubles, as if he were an old friend or a favorite uncle and not some stranger she had picked up in a bar and fucked for two hours, along with a few others. But there was just something about him that invited trust. It wasn't love. What she felt for him certainly wasn't what she'd call love.

So, what was it about Eli? An ease of feeling when in his company? Knowing that he was very far from judging? The confidence that he could handle every situation? Wasn't that what being a man was all about? All these thoughts took only about 10 seconds to process and for her to make a decision.

"How early can you meet me on Saturday?" she asked.

"Sheeeet! Early, says you? Baby girl, ain' no 'early' in Saturday."

"If you'll tell me where you live and agree to see me at eight o'clock, you'll get some of that 'primo white pussy' you like so well, which includes the world's best blowjob. Will that get your lazy black ass out of the sack?"

Although it wasn't physically possible, she would've sworn that she felt his eyes pop out of his head over the phone when he said, "Whoah, mama! Write these here directions down!"

Once a liar, always a liar. She had lied by omission about masturbating without Daddy's permission. Now, on the Friday before she was to secretly meet Eli, she'd had to lie about why she needed the car on Saturday. Of course, she only lied when he asked why she needed the car. If he'd just said, "Sure. Pick me up at 6:15?" she would not have told him the elaborate story about her friend Kim needing to spend the day with her because she'd had yet another fight with her asshole of a boyfriend, but that Kim's car was in the shop. Daddy hated Kim's boyfriend but always said that the best solution for Kim was to give that asshole the boot instead of wasting a day bending his delicious Slut's ear. He acted as if he were about to say no.

Worried that all her plans would fail, she smiled evilly and said, "Would you think it was sexy if I wore my little black dress when I come to pick you up? And got out of the car and waved to you so people could see me? And we could drive the long way home. I could slide over close to you and you could finger fuck me while you drive? That might make up for the hard day you'll have. How do like that; getting a hard cock to beat a hard day? And you know what I can do with a hard cock. How about it Daddy?" The only question was, what fool would say no to that proposition? Daddy was no fool.

So, on Saturday, after her morning orgasm, she arose and threw on some gym shorts and a "t.". He was in the bathroom washing up. She didn't see his lunch and she called out, asking if he wanted her to make one for him. He agreed. Her real motive was to prevent him trying to call or come home while she was out "with Kim." Her planned activities made it likely that she'd have to get home and clean herself up more than normal in time for Daddy's special pickup that evening.

Following his directions, she arrived at Eli's trailer on the gravel road about two miles off the highway promptly at eight o'clock. She had dressed differently than how Eli had last seen her. She had on a pair of tight and short cutoff jeans that left the cheeks of her butt peeking out and a halter top that wasn't much more than one of those large red kerchiefs that always bled in the washer and ruined whatever else was in there. This wasn't one of those, it just looked remarkably similar. No panties, of course, and no bra. On her feet were another pair of the shoes that Daddy had bought her in New Orleans. These were very similar to her black ones and were just as comfortable but less dressy. Her hair and makeup were perfect and she'd done the slutty Egyptian trick with her eyeliner.

Eli must have been waiting and heard her drive up because he opened the trailer door and greeted her loudly with a "Baby girl, git yo' fine white ass on in here." He stood there, 6 feet and 2 inches of a well-built black man in early middle age. Though no longer young, the Slut could tell from the veins on his arms, his broad chest and his tight ass that he exercised. She remembered during the party seeing several scars in various areas on his body, which enhanced his already powerful masculinity and strongly attracted her. She remembered the feel and taste of the seven-inch cock that swung between his legs and his expert skill with it. Upon seeing him again, she realized that it wasn't only for quid pro quo that she had promised to fuck him again. She loved Daddy with her whole heart, but he was a boy compared to this son of the south. "Yes," she thought to herself, "this isn't just a transaction." She realized that, attractive as his wise, easy and jocular manner was, she wanted that cock again.

As she emerged from her car and he got a fresh look at her, she saw the glint of appreciation in his eye. From the front door, he examined her up and down and seemed to be deciding which part of her he wanted to eat first. The high heeled sandals showed off her legs and feet and walking in them made her tits bounce freely. Just to add to the show, she pretended she had seen something on the ground, turned her back and bent all the way over, giving him a revealing view of her very tightly clad ass.

Almost breathless with lust, Eli called out, "What you looking fo', baby girl?"

The Slut turned, looked up, resumed walking toward him, and responded, "A hard black cock. Know where I can get one this morning?"

"Who eeee!," he exclaimed, feeling the heat rising in his loins. Stepping aside for her to enter he muttered, "Jus' might be I do. Yes sir indeedy, jus' might be." And the door closed.

Eli's trailer was amazingly clean and neat. Each object in it clearly served a purpose. No books, but then he didn't seem to be a reader so that was no surprise. But he didn't have a TV, which was. No clutter on the kitchen counters was always a good sign.

Before she could continue her examination, he said, "I'm glad you decided to call me. Been thinking about you a lot since the party. You the kind of woman that stays on a man's mind." He said this while glancing directly into her eyes, which she accepted as a compliment and a demonstration of his mature and inherent courtesy. But, given their experiences together, she knew how much animal lust dwelt beneath the surface.

She said, "You got any music Eli?"

He said, "Why sure, Maggie dahlin' girl. Why you doubt it?"

She said, "Well, you have no TV, so I thought you might not have a stereo either."

He snorted, "Not havin' a damn TV is a sign of intelligence and industry, baby girl. Ole Eli got mo' things to do and see then sitting on my ass watching the bullshit come through a TV."

He eyed her more hungrily by the second. How long would he wait? She was tempted to play the bird to his cat just to see, but she didn't like those kinds of games.

"Play me something, Eli."

"Sugah, what you want to hear?"

As she pondered, she was aware that his eyes, unable to resist any longer, began trailing down her body and back up. She knew that her best features were her breasts and her legs, and he gave them plenty of attention. But he also dwelt on her feet, admiring them intensely. She hadn't known that her sexy strappy sandals made her feet so appealing that they could compete with her legs. She made a mental note to test that in a special way.

"You pick," she said. Then, deliciously ambiguous, "You know what I like."

"I do, indeed I do," he responded. And just to let her know that he would tolerate no playful ambiguity, he said, "And I hope to give you plenty of it, Maggie dahlin'. You special all right."

As the easy blues guitar and steady low drum began, followed closely by a harmonica, the Slut recognized "Run Through The Jungle" and began to gyrate her hips causing her breasts to bounce gently. ("The devil's on the loose"). "You better believe that, brother," she thought as she danced toward Eli, caressing her own body, running her hands up and down her sides, rising slowly to cup her own breasts ("Better run through the jungle") and then pinching her own nipples while giving Eli a smoldering look.

As she continued to dance to the medium beat, she released the top of her halter and let it dangle around her waist, fully exposing her large white breasts and the lovely pink nipples. She stopped gyrating her hips, unfastened her shorts and pulled them down with her back to Eli, who stood by the stereo, still as one transfixed. Being bent entirely over, as in the yard, she looked back at him and pulled her butt cheeks apart, exposed her anus and the bottom of her pussy. Still with her back to Eli, she squatted low, and slowly arose while smoothly running her hands up her now naked body. Still with her back to Eli, she raised her hands to her head and pushed her generous mop of wavy blond hair up while gyrating her hips in a circle and moving her feet in tiny steps to turn her body slowly. When she was facing him, she saw his eyes devouring her and his cock struggling against the restraint of his pants.

As the song faded, she walked towards him, took his hands and placed one of them on her breast and the other on her ass and whispered, "I want your mouth and hands on every part of my body before I enjoy your cock. Can you do that for me, Eli baby."

From a throat nearly choked with passion he croaked, "Baby girl, the reason I don't really eat you is cuz I know I could only do it once. Better believe I'm gonna taste all yo' body. You ... are ... food." Then he scooped her up and carried into the master bedroom down the hall.

He laid her on the bed and immediately took hold of her left hand and began kissing her fingers, one at a time, languidly, giving each one it's deserved attention as his eyes bored into those of Maggie. The Slut enjoyed these new sensations and, as Eli progressed up her left arm to her neck, she began to think of herself as Maggie instead of Slut. But Eli's ministrations and the sensual warm wetness of his tongue began to truly arouse her. In that state, her overpowering sexual urges took control and she became aware only of these sensations and they're effect on her body; rapid breathing, hardening of the nipples while making them super sensitive, fluttering eyelids, a heat in her belly, and above all, a steady flow of sweet female nectar from her cunt.

Maggie was a predominantly sexual creature. Marlene Dietrich had been rumored to say, "I live therefore I fuck." Maggie abided stringently to that philosophy. Until she had met Daddy, she had gone from man to man. Now she had Daddy and had been satisfied completely, but only for a time. In her mind, the belief was forming needing more was not a betrayal so long as the more benefited Daddy as well. As her party had shown her, her appetite for him had only increased. She had no doubt that, after this prime specimen of manhood finished with her this morning, she would return to Daddy for even more, and Daddy would remain blissfully ignorant that the crop of sexual bounty that he gathered and been fertilized with the cock of another man.