Porn With The Wind

Charlotte O'Meara leaned back on her four-poster bed, her hoop skirts tilted back and up over her head, her bloomers down around her ankles.

"Put it in! Put it in me, damn you!" she screamed at the young man standing at the foot of the bed, his stiff and dripping dick pointing at her puffy pussy lips.

"Yes, Miss Charlotte, I'm doing my best!" said young Wesley. He stepped up to her wide-open womanhood, and placed his cock against the opening. Swinging his hips, he thrust his pink pork sword savagely into the soft folds of her wide-open pussy. It barely touched the sides.

"Harder!" commanded Miss Charlotte. "Don't you know how to fuck a young lady? I can barely feel that! What kind of Southern Gentleman are you?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Charlotte!" panted poor Wesley, thrusting and fucking as hard as he could. But try as he might, he could not satisfy Miss Charlotte, whose pussy was stretched out beyond all reason by a life of wanton sexual excess up and down the length and breadth of the Confederacy.

"Oh, fiddle-dee-dee! Get out of here!" said Miss Charlotte in disgust, hurling poor Wesley against the opposite wall with her leather boot. "Nobody knows how to fuck anymore. Mammy! Come lace me up!"

Mammy, Miss Charlotte's house slave, came running, her great bulk jiggling with the effort. She yanked the young harlot to her feet, and helped her pull up her bloomers and smooth down her skirts. "Lordy, lordy, Miss Charlotte," she nagged, her eyes bulging and tongue waggling, "You done fucked way too many young gentlemen in your days. Your pussy be all stretched out! You won't never be satisfied by a nine-incher again!"

"Oh, hush, Mammy," said Miss Charlotte haughtily. "I just need to find a true gentleman who knows how to use the equipment that the Good Lord gave him." Mammy just rolled her eyes. She'd known Miss Charlotte since she was a baby, and she had always been a slut.

********************

Miss Charlotte sat on a rocking chair on the front veranda of her manor house, fanning herself against the heat and watching the slaves picking cotton in her father's fields. They were tall, strong, broad, and well-muscled. And the men were even bigger! She marveled at their rippling shoulders, squat legs, broad chests. She wanted one.

"Melody," she said to her cousin in the next rocker, "Do you see those slaves out there? Do you think they know how to fuck?"

Melody blushed down to her lacy neckline. "Well, I'm sure I don't know, Cousin Charlotte," she said demurely. "But, I hear that their men are extremely, well, er..."

"Extremely what, Melody dear?" asked Charlotte in interest.

"Oh, you know," said Melody. "They have, er, extra large, that is, overly sized, ah...."

"What, darling?"

"Cocks, Charlotte. Cocks. They have enormously big fucking cocks! Is that what you want to hear? Gigantic fucking penises between their legs! Huge, black, and throbbing! All right, Cousin?"

"Why, Melody, my dear, there is no need to be so crude!" Charlotte scolded. But secretly, she flushed with excitement, and watched the men in the fields ever closer, imagining their huge swinging hoses of cock, hanging roughly inside their crudely sewn dungarees. And of course imagining one or more of them invading her ever-needful pussy. Her nipples tingled and crinkled at the thought.

Charlotte stood and waved her hankie at the field foreman, Mr. Taggart. He caught her gesture, and came running.

"Yes, Miss Charlotte?" he asked, bowing obsequiously to the haughty daughter of his employer. "What can I do for you, Miss?"

"Mr. Taggart," said Charlotte casually, as if it were the most trivial request in the world, "Do you see that large buck Negro over there, by the willow tree?" She indicated the largest, blackest, strongest, most muscular man in view.

"Why yes, of course, Miss Charlotte," said Taggart. "That's Mandingo, our strongest worker. What about him? Has he been bothering you? I'll have him flogged if he has."

"Why dear Lord, no, Mr. Taggart," said Charlotte hastily. "Nothing like that. It's just that, well, I'd like to make his acquaintance. He seems like an interesting gentleman. Can you have him cleaned up and sent to my room later tonight?"

Mr. Taggart was well aware of Miss Charlotte's sexual proclivities, and he also valued his job. So of course he agreed. "I'll have him in your room by 8 pm, Miss Charlotte, cleaned and perfumed and ready to, ah, entertain you,"

"Thank you, Mr. Taggart," said Charlotte. "You may go." She saw Melody's disapproving look as Taggart headed back to the fields, and stuck her tongue out at her.

******************

That evening, Miss Charlotte was in her room, seated on the lacy comforter of her antique four-poster bed, her flowing skirts demurely arranged around her hips and legs. Her bloomers and other undergarments, however, were tucked away in her bureau. When the knock came at her door, she fanned herself daintily and called, "Come in!"

The door swung open. Mandingo, cap in hand, and uncomfortably dressed in a borrowed tweed suit, came shyly into the room. His broad shoulders barely fit through the doorway. "You called for me, Miss Charlotte?" he said meekly, shuffling from foot to foot and staring at the floor.

"Why yes, Mr. Mandingo, do please come in. I've been ever so anxious to make your acquaintance. Please, do come in!"

Mandingo reluctantly stepped deeper into the room. He had no idea why he was here, but feared the worst. Was he to be beaten? Sold? Killed? He had no idea.

Charlotte stepped up to him, and ran her slim white hands up and down his muscular brown arms. "My, Mr. Mandingo, you are very strong, aren't you?" she cooed. He gulped in embarrassment. She ran her hands across his massive pectorals. "And you are very large, aren't you?" she said. He wheezed a little, and wondered again what fate he was about to endure.

Charlotte threw herself on the bed, and lifted her hoop skirts up over her head. Her naked pussy was open to him, open and glistening like a large red gash, painfully open and wide, needing to be filled. "I want you to fuck me, Mr. Mandingo. Fuck me like I've never been fucked before. Fuck me with your huge black slave cock!" She spread her knees wide, and her oversized pussy beckoned to him like a railroad tunnel.

Mandingo's head swam. He had never seen a white woman's legs before, let alone her private parts! But he was conditioned to a life of obedience, so he wasted no time in complying. He hastily ripped off his trousers, and fell onto her with his stiff cock, jamming it into her wet, floppy pussy with all possible speed.

Charlotte lay back, closed her eyes, and waited to be split wide open; to be assaulted and abused; to be overcome with physical bliss and ecstasy. She felt his rough, calloused hands on her knees, his hot breath on her belly, and his rigid manhood between her legs. But she felt very little in her pussy. As he thrust into her, again and again, following her orders in mindless obedience, her sexual bliss was completely underwhelming. She propped herself up on her elbows and stared down at him, thrusting futilely between her legs. She cocked an eyebrow and watched him exerting himself. But she still felt nothing.

"Hey! Mandingo!" she called. He stopped in his tracks and looked up at her, his face filled with embarrassment. "Are you fucking me, or what?" she asked.

"I'm, um, pleasuring you, Miss Charlotte," he said, his voice quaking with fear.

"I don't think so," she said. "Step back. Let me see you."

Mandingo pulled his manhood out from between her legs and took two steps backwards. His cock, a mere six inches of thin stiff black meat, bobbed benignly from his crotch.

"That's it?" screamed Charlotte. "That's all you've got? Half a foot? I thought you darkies were well hung!"

"Not all of us, Miss Charlotte," cringed Mandingo. "Please don't beat me, Miss! Please don't sell me! I like it here!!" He bowed and wrung his hands, his face screwed up and on the verge of tears.

"Get out of here!" she screamed, pointing at the door. "Get out of here, and take your miniature cock with you!"

Mandingo ran out the door, his trousers in his hands and his wilting cock swinging, down the stairs and out the front door and across the veranda, until he was back in his own quarters with his wife and his seven children.

Charlotte buried her head in her arms and sobbed.

***************************

The next day on the veranda, Charlotte waved her hankie at Mr. Taggart again. Again, he came running.

"Yes, Miss Charlotte? What can I do for you today, Miss?"

"Mr. Taggart, when do the field hands shower?"

"Shower, Miss?"

"Yes, shower, Mr. Taggart. They must sweat out there in the fields. When do you let them clean up?"

"Well, Miss," said Taggart cautiously, wondering what the little tramp was up to now, "They normally shower after the work day is over. Around 7 o'clock. The men shower in the men's shower, and the women shower in the women's shower." He cringed at having to utter such a moronic sentence.

"And where is the men's shower, Mr. Taggart?" asked Charlotte cannily.

Taggart pointed toward the southern end of the plantation. "That long low building over there, Miss Charlotte," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Never you mind, Mr. Taggart," said Charlotte. "I just like taking an interest in the running of my father's plantation, that's all."

"Of course, Miss," said Taggart. Then he bowed, and headed back to the fields.

"Why, Charlotte, you scamp," said Melody, fanning herself demurely. "Whatever are you up to?"

"I need a large, black, stiff fucking dick, Melody my dear," said Charlotte, batting her eyelids. "And I intend to find one. As God is my witness, I'll never be horny again!"

****************************

At fifteen minutes to seven, Charlotte was sitting on a stool behind the men's shower building. She had a parasol over her shoulder and a scarf around her head to keep out the glare of the setting sun. She had induced Taggart to drill a strategic hole in the wall of the shower building, and was waiting to select her next paramour. Melody had refused to join her, but no matter. She could pick out her next lover on her own.

She waited, and soon heard the sound of spirituals being sung by the men returning from the fields. Swing Low Sweet Chariot, indeed, thought Charlotte. The door of the shower building swung open, and dozens of male slaves came marching in. They dropped their clothes by the entrance way, and proceeded to the shower area. She watched as the water sprayed down on their gleaming black hides, highlighting their rippling muscles and broad, powerful bodies. But Charlotte had no eyes for musculature, for pectorals, for biceps or triceps. Her only interest was in their long, black, swinging cocks.

Her eyes, peering through the hole in the wall, flitted from crotch to crotch, searching for the largest, thickest, longest, most throbbing and dangerous looking schlong available on the plantation. The slaves tended to be somewhat larger than most of her white lovers, but, on average, were not all that much different that what she was accustomed to. Some were large, some were small. Many were average. But occasionally, she caught a glimpse of a larger, thicker, scarier than normal member that made her feel a thrill between her legs. She made mental notes of the larger ones, but for a long time, none were so large as to arouse her interest. Until.....

Yes! There it was! A gigantic, swollen, huge swinging tube of glistening black flesh that made her heart leap in her chest and her breath catch in her throat. This was it! Gazing through the hole in the wall, she could not see his face, only his midsection. She saw a long, black, plump tube of man-meat; as big as a pump-handle, with a head like an apple and a pair of balls like coconuts; twitching and flapping like a thing possessed; gleaming with all the shiny black luminescence of an eggplant on the vine; she knew that this was the cock that she was born to fuck, that she was made to own, that she was destined to possess! She had to have it. She had to have it inside her, inside of her every hole. Leaning her head down toward the ground outside the peep-hole, she was able to see upward and get a glimpse of the face of the man who owned this massive tool: it was a gentle, tender, sincere face, a clever face, the face of a man to be reckoned with, thoughtful and bespectacled. She knew that she could deal with him. And she looked forward to feeling his massive cock inside her, stretching her, filling her, satisfying her, very soon.

*******************

"Mr. Taggart, I need to speak with you."

"Of course, Miss Charlotte," Taggart sighed, his shoulders slumping.

"I need one of your field hands assigned to the house. Immediately."

"Which one?" They were standing in the field, mid-morning. The slaves were already hard at work, covered with sweat and grime and singing their work songs.

Charlotte glanced around, shielding her eyes against the sun. She saw him. "That one, over there," she pointed.

"Theodore? Why, he's one of our best workers, and one of the smartest. A born leader. The rest of the slaves respect him. I don't think I can spare him, Miss Charlotte."

"Do I need to speak to my father, Mr. Taggart?"

Taggart sighed again, and went off to speak to Theodore.

**************************

Theodore stood in the middle of Miss Charlotte's bedroom, exactly where Mandingo had stood so recently. He wore a crisp gray suit, and had neatly trimmed hair and wire rimmed glasses. He was of average height and weight, but Charlotte knew that his baggy trousers contained the real prize.

Charlotte looked at him from the foot of the bed. "Do you know why you are here, Mr. Theodore?"

"I have a fairly good idea," he said quietly.

"Your new job will be to fuck me, on a regular basis. You are to see to it that my sexual needs are met. And I am very needful, Mr. Theodore."

"Yes, Ma'am," said Theodore. He moved in close. He dropped his trousers. His massive penis, as long as a croquet mallet and as thick as a fence post, hung limply from his loins.

"Oh my," muttered Charlotte, impressed despite herself. Although she had seen it before in the shower room, seeing it now, up close and personal, moved her in ways she could not have imagined. She licked her lips and felt herself becoming wet. "Please...."

She moved forward, knelt on the floor, and approached the massive beast. Her hands reached forth to stroke it, to touch it, to see if it was real. It was. She grabbed it, stroked it as if it were an elephant's trunk. Her hands roved up and down its length, massaged the massive, spongy head. She pressed it to her cheek, felt its roughness and its heat. She was happy beyond all words. It existed! It was here, in her own chambers, ready to please her, to fill her! It was magnificent.

She looked up at Theodore, pleadingly. He looked down at her, his face still blank. Charlotte kept stroking the massive dong, up and down, faster and faster, with her thin white hands. The contrasts between her tiny hands and his massive organ, between the pale white of her skin and the deep black of his, accentuated the eroticism of the moment. Theodore's massive cock began to stir, to twitch, to engorge with blood. Soon it was as hard and stiff as a soldier's musket, pointing at a target and ready to fire!

Charlotte hopped up onto the bed and spread her legs. She raised her skirts over her head. The gaping hole of her over-stretched pussy beckoned like the opening of a coal mine. "Now, Mr. Theodore! Now!" she screamed.

Theodore wasted no time. He pressed the gigantic bulb of his cockhead against her pussy lips; it slipped in, quickly overcoming the slight resistance of her labia. Charlotte gasped! He pressed it in further, slamming it deep to her cervix; Charlotte jumped! He rammed it back and forth, hard and fast, over and over, stretching her pussy further than it had ever been stretched before; Charlotte swooned!

Charlotte's pussy had been so stretched out, for so long, that she had nearly forgotten what it was like to be filled by a man. But she was remembering now! Her lips, her vagina, her very being, were being pushed to their limit, were feeling the burning sensation of reaching their maximum, were being immersed in the painful pleasure of excess that she had missed for so long!

Over and over, the gigantic tool slammed into her enormous, stretched-out cavern. Charlotte was in heaven. She felt such pleasure and pain and penetration as she had not felt since grade school! Theodore kept up his relentless assault with his oversized organ for what seemed like ages. Eventually, Charlotte felt an orgasm approaching; her pussy, stretched unaccustomedly to limits it had never before know, revving to heights and depths of pleasures unbeknownst, finally bust into a cacophony of ecstasy, flooding her brain and her soul with wave after wave of pleasure and perfection and bliss!!

As Charlotte lay twitching and drooling on the bed, her eyes rolled back in her head and her tongue lolling out of the corner of her mouth, Theodore pulled out, and his tool swung down to graze the carpet. He watched her, vibrating with residual pleasure, her pale white flesh crawling and shuddering in ecstasy. After several minutes, her eyes fluttered open, her legs unclenched, and she sat up.

"Why, Mr. Theodore, that was amazing!" she said, gasping. "You have a new job for life! Let's do it again!" And with that, she again threw her legs open wide.

Theodore fucked her again, using all his strength, and all of his cock. In, out, in, out; his torpedo of a cock split her wide like a tree trunk in a lightening storm. Again, eventually, Charlotte lay twitching and satisfied.

"Thank you kindly, Mr. Theodore," she said when she had recovered once more. "I haven't been fucked like that since my coming out party! You are very talented."

Theodore looked down at his dripping dick, and his now slightly blue-tinged balls. "Miss Charlotte," he said, "You've had two orgasms now, and I haven't had any. After all this fucking, I really need to cum. My balls are beginning to hurt. Can I cum this time?"

"Oh, fiddle-dee-dee," said Charlotte. "Don't be silly, Mr. Theodore. You are here to please me, not the other way around. Fuck me again, and do it now!"

Theodore had no choice but to comply, again and again. After five orgasms, Charlotte had finally had enough. For the first time in many years, she was actually satiated. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. "Thank you kindly, Mr. Theodore, you may go now," she said with a wave of her slim white hand.

Poor Theodore stared down at his sore cock and inflamed balls, now swollen and aching with sperm. He was in deep pain, needing release. "Please, Miss Charlotte! After all this fucking, I really need some relief!"

"I said that is all, Mr. Theodore!" Charlotte said in exasperation. "Please do not become tiresome or forget your place! The door is that way."

Theodore, wincing and crouching, walked gingerly out the door and down the stairs, careful not to strain his poor aching balls as they swung between his powerful thighs. As he crossed the veranda and made his way to the lawn, the pain was too much for him. He collapsed to the ground, and lay there in a fetal position, softly keening in pain.

Mammy, Charlotte's house slave, happened to be walking the grounds to take her evening air before retiring. Her gaze fell on poor Theodore, laying on the ground by the hedge and writhing in pain. Her eyes bulged out of her head.

"Why, Mr. Theodore! Whatever are you doing here?" she said.

Theodore looked up at her with tears in his eyes. "Miss Charlotte," he began. "She... she used me.... I..."

"Hush, child," said Mammy. She knew Miss Charlotte well. "I know all about it. Your balls are aching for release, aren't they?"