"And that was how Janice ended up with a donkey dick up her ass."
"GODDAMIT, CHOLLIE!! STOP PLAYIN' 'ROUND WID' IT!! PUT IT IN!!"
Miriam Thompkins was too through with Charles Nelson Leone. He was toying with her pussy from behind using the tip of his cock when, by her reckoning, he ought to have been using it as a ramrod.
The two of them had sneaked upstairs from the "nigger" balcony after the conclusion of church services at the First Bapticostal Church of God. Scores of parishioners, black and white, were downstairs socializing—separately, according to the laws of East Louisiana in 1844. Charlie's friend (and owner) Ben Leone had sneaked off to a basement closet where he'd scheduled a tryst with his cousin Janice. In a different basement closet Jake Leone had Pete Harkness' sister Jennie on tap. Charlie and Miriam, slaves from different farms, squeezed up into the church sub-belfry singly after Miriam poked her tongue into her cheek during the service and rolled her eyes skyward to signal a meet. The small room was a tight fit.
Miriam's two sisters (the three were triplets) were under strict orders to cover for an absence Miriam estimated would take no more than ten minutes. Church service or no, Miriam's pussy required attention. Charlie happened to be in attendance that Sunday with his mother and siblings. He didn't attend church often. Miriam thought this might be her only chance at him.
Up in the church sub-belfry, Miriam's skirt was scooched up around her waist. Her rounded, naked ass was on full display. Charlie's cock bulged outwardly from a crease in his rugged pantaloons, twelve inches of solid muscle striving to invest itself of the fragrant crease in Miriam's groin. He gripped his penis by its base as he painted her southern cleft with the aromatic juices oozing from her chocolate vagina, coating his pud in her opulence. His purple-black dick pulsed virulently.
"WE AIN'T GOT MUCH TIME, CHOLLIE. If I'd knowed you 'uz gwine play 'round wid it like some kid, I'd-a axed somebody else!"
"We ain't never did it before, Miri. Dis de fust time! If I jist put it in quick, ah'm-a cum. Does you wants dat? An' den you-a go back an' tells your sisters I cain't fuck."
"AH'M-a do dat ANYWAY, Chollie. What dat got to do wit' you? If I wasn't already ready to fuck, I wouldn't-a axed you to follow me up here! You sees how wet ah'm is!"
"You IS mighty wet, gal. You blowin' bubbles!" Charlie chuckled.
"DAT'S RIGHT, NIGGA. An' you ain't tendin' 'em proper! PUT IT IN, DOGGONEIT!! An' let's finish up before my Ma comes lookin' for me."
She preened upward on her tippy toes to offer him a better angle of insertion. Charlie released his grip on his cock as Miriam's labia gaped open. With the barest trace of a thrust, Charlie's muscular dick disappeared into her hole. Miriam groaned with satisfaction. Her head floated backward onto her shoulder blades as she suppressed a scream of wanton fervor.
"FINALLY!"
She hilted him in one go. When he withdrew, his entire cock was coated in her crystal effervescence—steamy, hot and bubbling. Her pussy dripped with urgency. Charlie plunged forward to tap her cervix again, luxuriating in her heat and the newness of their intercourse. This was always the best time—that first cruise up the slippery pink baby chute of a pretty girl.
Miriam began to tremble. Her muscles stood out in contrast to her normally svelte skin. She hadn't been kidding. She was already on the verge of release not ten seconds in.
"Not yet, Priscilla!! Not yet!!"
Miriam importuned silently.
(Priscilla was the given name of Miriam's pussy. Miriam spoke to Priscilla often as if Priscilla were a real person.)
"This is gonna be quick!"
Charlie thought grimly.
He gripped her ass and roiled his dick in conjunction with her increasingly strident pelvic ululations.
In truth, Miriam had been building a foundation for Priscilla's detonation all throughout the church service. Ignoring the sermon, Miriam's mind drifted. She fondly recalled her encounter with Bennett Leone the month before despite feeling hugely put upon by its abrupt conclusion. The details of that tryst were fresh in her mind. Young Master Leone was downstairs just now, sitting in a pew with his family. She could see his unruly shock of rusty red hair from her seat in the balcony.
She remembered how he'd fucked her roughly that night at the swimming hole, slamming his dick the length of her cunt with manly precision as her sisters looked on. He'd fucked Beulah and Dinah, too, before standing up to Priscilla's challenge. Miriam mounted him and gave as good as she'd gotten. Even now she could feel Ben's testicles flopping against her taint as she rocked him from her mount atop his purpled cock. They'd assailed each other that night, weaving an intricate web of fuck thunder that served Miriam's masturbatory fantasies for weeks afterward.
"FUCCCCCK...MEEEEEEEEEEE. FUCCCCCCKKKKKK!! MEEEEEEEE!!"
It was a good thing that Miriam hadn't given voice to her silent remembrances, lest the church services be disrupted with scandal.
Priscilla heard Miriam's salacious musings, though, and responded accordingly. She gushed alive, overflowing with the aromatic juices of Miriam's private lust.
Miriam anticipated this problem. Some weeks back she'd allowed her attention to wander during church services in much the same manner. The result had been a large, wet stain on the back of her church dress—a wetness that she didn't notice until she returned from her secret world of sexual fantasy. As services concluded she'd immediately employed her sisters to block the view of onlookers while she exited the sanctuary. She'd promptly raced to the first available bench and sat there while the blotch dried.
Miriam had been mortified that day. Her sisters just laughed.
Ever resourceful, Miriam now came to church with a thick cotton pad situated under her dress between Priscilla and her seat. Priscilla could still drip during the sermon, but most of her issue would be sopped up. Only the front of Miriam's bloomers would wetten. This, she thought, was an acceptable compromise, especially insofar as, with proper positioning, that leak wouldn't stain the front of her dress.
Charlie Leone sat with his family in another section of the 'nigger' balcony. He was dressed in his work clothes. He didn't have much else. As Miriam floated at plateau, unable to complete Priscilla's desire with mere remembrance fantasy, Charlie's attention, too, wandered. He peered about the church sleepily, wondering when this dreary 'white folks' sermon would come to an end.
Something unusual caught his eye.
It was Miriam Thompkins. She was gazing intently in his direction, hoping to attract his attention. He saw her, but he didn't
see
her. It was the cheek poke that disrupted his absent-minded reverie. Had he actually seen that? In church?
Slowly, he allowed his eyes to drift up to hers. Maybe she was just cleaning her teeth. Maybe he'd mistaken her intent. Their eyes met.
There it was again!
Miriam drove her tongue into her left cheek twice to simulate female fellatio. Everybody knew what the cheek poke meant. Charlie met her gaze seeking confirmation. What he received by way of reply was the "
HOW MANY TIMES IS I GOTS TO OFFER BEFORE YOU SAYS YES?
" look. Her non-verbal communication was clear. Miriam followed this with a surreptitious nod to the sub-belfry upstairs.