Megan Accepts Ch 01

CHAPTER ONE: BEGINNINGS

I opened the arriving email after hearing the signal its arrival. I received very few emails from outside the office so assumed it was from one of the company officers. It was from Mr. Nolan, President of BlackLand Enterprises. I scanned the email and the attachment it contained, then stood, smoothed my short skirt and nearly sheer blouse, left my desk at the front of the offices, and made my way down the short hallway on the left to his office, as his email requested.

I was wearing what had quickly become a standard dress modified by types of skirts, blouses, and dresses. Having been in the office for less than a week, it hadn't taken me long to understand what the five men in the office liked. Short skirts and dresses that didn't reach mid-thigh, lots of cleavage, sheer or semi-sheer blouses, elastic thigh-high stockings or garters, and four inch high heels (four inch heels for my petite 5' 2" body were high). Underneath was generally only a thong or bikini panty. Although I had always worn bras before starting here, the men suggested that my 32B tits didn't need it.

Today, I was wearing a pleated black skirt that was well above mid-thigh and a nearly sheer, silk blouse unbuttoned to below my nipple line. My stockings were sheer white, and my shoes were black. A sheer thong completed my outfit, which was wet and sticking my ready pussy. I glanced down and my perky nipples were quite evident. I still couldn't believe I was in this job. His language was different. My words like breast, pussy, or vagina to him were tits and cunt, but he didn't insist on changing my words. He said my words reflected my petite, less 'in your face' look. The wetness between my legs increased and my nipples somehow became harder as I neared his office. Terry Nolan was 36 years old with an athletic build on a 6' 2", 210 pound body.

I knocked on his partially opened door, "Sir? What can I do for you?"

"Ah, Megan, thank you. Yes, two things actually ... First, the email ... did you look at the attachment?" I assured him I had. "Good. As you saw, then, it is a letter of some delicacy. I'm not happy with the performance of his site, lately, but he has been a good performer in the past. I've talked with him on the phone, but I want to review what I believe was our understanding. I want to be positive in encouraging him, but also reflect a level of disappointment at the same time." He considered me standing before his desk and for a moment I wondered if he had lost his train of thought. "So ... you are amazingly good at picking the right words for context."

I smiled, "Thank you, sir. I will take a look at it and review with you any suggestions I have." He nodded. "Then, sir ... the second thing?"

He turned his chair to the side without saying a word. I smiled and without a word of my own moved around his desk and knelt at his knees. I unbuckled his belt and opened his slacks. He raised his hips just enough for me to pulled his slacks and underwear far enough to allow me easy access to his big black cock. I immediately began licking it from his balls to the head as I held it with one hand, the other massaging his large ball sack. I pulled my tongue into my mouth frequently to gather saliva to lick his cock over and over from top to bottom. As his cock stiffened, my lips encased the head and sucked out the pre-cum forming there. I swirled my tongue over the head before pushing my mouth down the hardened cock.

I pulled my mouth off and licked the full 10 inches of hard black cock. I took his cock back in my mouth and pressed down, raised up, and pressed back down. I tried taking it into my throat, began to gag and pulled back up before going back down. Over and over, taking more of it into my throat each time. It is work, work I have been dedicated to since starting here, work I have come to enjoy, and work I am rewarded with praise and encouragement from the men. Having never deepthroated anyone before, I am now able to take much of his cock. I opened my eyes as my throat feels completely full and his cock head deep. I saw I still have several inches to go, but I am tensing. I pull back up and gasp for air and to calm my throat.

"You are doing well, Megan. You almost had all of me that time."

I glance up at him as I lick the saliva from his cock. He's smiling. That and his words are all the encouragement I need. I tried, again. Up and down. Press and rise. Over and over. I am getting close, again. But, before I can try for those last inches, he grunts out his impending release.

"Oh, fuck ... yesssssss ... I'm cummmmminnnnggggg ..."

I pulled my mouth back to the top of his cock, only the head in my mouth, my lips sealed tightly around the head as I suck. I can feel his cock and balls pulse with his rising climax, his seed rising along his cock to my mouth. The first spurt fills my mouth, splashing over my tongue and off the back of my mouth into my throat. I gulp, noisily, obscenely. I swallowed over and over to take the spurt and the three more that follow it. It seemed like I gulped a half cup of it, though I knew it wasn't.

After licking his cock clean of my saliva and his cum that escaped my mouth, I sit back on my heels and look up at him. I make a show of licking my lips, searching for stray drops of cum. He smiled down at me.

"You have to be one of the sexiest women I know." I blushed profusely.

How does a petite young white woman from a conservative small town in the Midwest find herself on her knees sucking the big black cock for her boss, the president of a multi-company enterprise that includes the production of video and photographic black porn and websites to assist in their distribution? I'll give you the short version.

* * * *

I'm divorced, but that really isn't nearly enough. I need to go back further, but surprisingly, not that much further considering where I am now.

Jim, my ex-husband, and I were married two years after high school. In small towns in the Midwest, there often is only one boy (then man) that might fill your love life. We tried to get pregnant while Jim finished his degree in engineering and I tried to support us as best I could on a secretarial job. We eventually moved to the big city for Jim's new job. We were very excited and anxious to start a family. But after no success, our parents suggested I be tested, which shows the parochial prejudice toward women. The results, however, found me to be fertile. Reluctantly, (how could it be him?) Jim agreed to be tested. This time, the results found him to be lacking sufficient sperm count to impregnate me. Of course, now I might add that his tiny three inch dick didn't help, either. Then, however, with neither of us having any prior experience with sex, his size (or lack of) didn't seem an issue. After all, how would I have known?

Pursuing our options, we looked into sperm donor clinics and artificial insemination. However, a more experienced friend challenged why I would want to go the route of implanting sperm into my womb when there were clinics that would do it 'the old-fashioned way' with a certified donor inseminating through intercourse. It was called natural insemination.

We found most insemination clinics have a waiting period that could be extensive, particularly when specifics were required like race, hair, eyes, size, etc. And, the cost can be tens of thousands of dollars, dollars we really didn't have starting out in our life. Questioned by the clinics, we agreed to not require a particular race and would explain the race by adoption. I was proud of Jim for being so open-minded because I knew what his folks were like.

We found a clinic that also provided the option for natural insemination at a much-reduced cost. The one we ultimately chose was Bethard Biotic Clinic. It had a sound reference and reviews by past clients. We had several consultations with the staff and I finally went in for the 'procedure'. It was a thoroughly mind-blowing experience. Having only experienced a three inch dick for my entire sexual life, I was introduced to a tall, strongly built black man who was very different in every way from Jim. He was very caring and sensitive in relaxing me and letting me set the pace. The room was quiet, mutely lit, furnished with a queen-sized bed. He undressed me slowly, kissing every newly exposed piece of skin. When I was naked, he encouraged me onto the bed and did something I had never experienced ... he began licking and kissing my pussy. He spoke softly. He told me how beautiful I was and, something I never heard, how enticing my pussy was and how wonderful it tasted.

He gave me an orgasm just with his mouth and tongue. I could count the number of orgasms I had experienced ... on one hand without using the majority of those fingers. I was ready for anything at that point as he stood to undress. But what I saw made me seriously wonder what I was doing. This tall, handsome, strongly built black man had a cock on him that was over three times the size of Jim's. I wasn't sure it would ever get inside me; much less be able to have intercourse. But he proved my fears wrong. He took his time, as much time as I needed. By the time he was nearly all the way inside me, I was already in sexual heaven with another orgasm. That intercourse went on and on until he moved me to sitting on top of him, then back to missionary. When he came inside me, I orgasmed, again. Already, I had more orgasms than I had up to that day.

Although that day was timed to my peak time of ovulation, he asked me to return in two days and two days after that. That way the odds were increased. Each time I returned to the clinic to meet with that man, I experienced something else very new ... the crotch of my panties was wet in anticipation.

I put all those thoughts out of my mind, though. I did become pregnant and we were very happy. We had to time our visits back home to avoid the months when I was heavily showing, however. But we were happy and excited throughout the pregnancy. At least, outwardly we were.

When our healthy, bi-racial son was born, I instantly became the devoted mother. I loved nursing and worked hard at getting my petite body back in shape. But, as much as we seemed the normal little family with our new 'adopted' son, there was something stirring our emotions under the surface. Every time I looked at our son, the memory of those days of his conception came rushing back. My own son became a trigger for a yearning for that experience, that feeling of fullness, and those orgasms. It was unfair to be sure and I fought them. But it wasn't only me. Jim had reminders because of our son, too. They came out strangely and perhaps I should have been suspicious or fearful of what he was feeling. But he began talking about the interracial experience I had to become pregnant. He began sounding obsessed with the idea and asking questions he never had interest in before. Soon, I had described the acts of intercourse to him.

Strangely, he became very hard and wanted to have sex after talking about it. So, we would have sex. His little dick poking at my pussy. And, me having to fake orgasms so as not to hurt him. But he somehow knew, perhaps because he learned about female excretions and my lack of them. Not that I was dry, but I did not orgasm. He became frustrated that he couldn't provide me with satisfaction. His solution confused me. I had become aware of his generally weak nature, recognizing that he had gone along with the idea of natural insemination. But I was introverted and shy. So, when he suggested we find 'big men' for me to experience, I went along. It only happened a few times, but ... it had completely changed the way I thought about sex. These men didn't talk about sex, they talked about fucking.

Then, the world opened up and swallowed everything and our life was ruined. His parents surprised us with a visit and we weren't ready, or ... or my husband was really too weak-willed to be a good husband and support our mutual decision. His parents pushed him and accused me. Jim's weak explanation of adoption quickly fell apart under their grilling. I suppose they knew when their son was hiding something. In the end, Jim relayed the story of my 'affairs' without admitting his part in all of it. It quickly became 'accepted' that our son was the result of elicit encounters. Even my family believed that rather than me.

Strangely, or not, by the time the divorce papers went through and I was claimed as an unfit mother, I was beside myself with my own doubts. On advice from my attorney, I didn't fight too hard for the sake of our baby now lost to me.

It took time and a lot of work on my part to get myself back together. Finally, though, it happened. I had lost my baby and all connection to my past life. It took that time to come to grips with the reality that losing my past life didn't mean I had to give up on my future life. But, by then, I was dangerously low on how I was going to live without a job.

Desperate to put my life back in some semblance of order after the divorce, I was forced to sell the small house I got in the settlement in a starter-home development north of the city, find an apartment, and a job. Not having a college degree or years of experience, I was forced to find something along the line of secretarial work I have done in the past.

I found an advertisement for an Executive Secretary position for BlackLand Enterprises. Though, I had never heard of them, they were located in an office high-rise in one of the office parks surprisingly close to my new apartment. I was confident of my secretarial skills, but had never risen to the 'executive' level for my resume reference. It fit what I was looking for otherwise, though.

I wore a knee-length skirt, white blouse, and low heels for the interview. I was somewhat surprised after sending in my resume that I received a call back after a week asking me to come in for an interview. I was also surprised that it was a man's voice. The office park was very upscale, the building relatively new, and the office number indicating it was on the 11th floor. The office was located on the West side of the building. The door was solid oak with the company name etched and painted into a copper name plate. On either side of the door were windows with wide ripples of frosted glass treatment, which allowed only a slight view inside through the couple inches of clear glass between the frosted sections.

The reception desk was empty, which was surprising for 9:30 in the morning. A black man in white shirt and tie filled an office door on the right. I explained I was there for the secretary job interview. He nodded and disappeared to the other side, talked to someone in another office at the end of that hall, then informed me it would only be a few minutes.

I settled into one of the chairs along the wall to wait. I could see what looked like six offices, three on either side of the reception desk down short halls on either side. The reception desk seemed to be in the center with something behind the reception area the man passed through. I would see in moments it was a large conference room with glassed walls on the two sides. At the back of the office suite I would also find a small lunch/break/coffee area and a separate room with copiers and a heavy-duty printer.

On the small table in front of the chairs, I found brochures of BlackLand Enterprises. I quickly found it was a consortium of companies. One of them is Bethard Biotic Clinic ... the very same where I was inseminated and, through no fault of theirs, sent Jim and me on our downward spiral. I was so fixed on that memory I didn't register the other companies when an even larger black man appeared in the hall on the left. My mouth gaped open. It was the man who had inseminated me!

He walked directly up to me with his hand stretched out in front of him. "Ms. Collins ... Terry Nolan. Glad you could come in; I think we have something positive to talk over."

I shook his hand and followed him back down the hall. As we walked, he asked if I would like some water or soda. I declined. I was still puzzling over his comment about 'something positive to talk over'. I was here for an interview for a position I wasn't entirely sure my resume could speak well to. He indicated the chairs in front of his desk as he moved around behind the desk. The office was expansive. On one wall was a sitting arrangement with sofa, chairs, and coffee table. In front of the large floor to ceiling window on the West wall was a small conference table with three chairs. Behind his desk was a credenza with shelves and cabinets. Clearly, this man was successful, but there only appeared to be office space for five or six people. And, how did Bethard Biotic Clinic fit in?

He drew my attention from those musings with a description of the secretarial duties for the office. There were indeed only five men in the office and I would be the only secretary. He would introduce the men later should I get the job, but they were all executives who, like him, oversaw the company business units they have responsibility for. Each business unit was stand-alone with their own staffing.

He leaned back in his chair, "Maybe the way to explain it is the men in this office are the Board of Directors of the larger group and I am the Chairman of the Board."

I nodded my understanding. In truth, he was the president of BlackLand and the other men were Vice Presidents, each responsible for oversight of a specific segment.

I was about to ask some detail about the businesses when he jumped in with talking more about me. "Megan ... I hope I can call you Megan ..." I nodded. "Thank you ... I make it a habit to do a thorough background on anyone I am even considering for a responsible position due the nature of our businesses." I started to say I was only applying for the secretary job, but he continued with a smile. "If you are working in this office, you will be in a responsible position. Now ... how do I say this?" He looked at me thoughtfully, then, "Megan ... when I looked at your resume, something clicked and I dug a little further. And, I was right. I remember you."

I blushed, "I remember you, too, sir."

"This could be embarrassing, but it is an accident, right?" I assured him it was.

"Megan, I feel I have to ask ... something very personal ... your resume and application indicates you are single." I nodded. "But ... you were married and became pregnant, didn't you?"

Now I was really embarrassed. I told him everything. I surprised myself that I finally was able to talk about it without tears. Was that because I was finally truly over the pain, or was it somehow more to do with the strength I felt from this man, just like I felt that first time I met him ... in that clinic bedroom.

He just gazed at me as I related it all. Then, "I am sorry, Megan." He paused, "Megan, I have a confession, too. That day you came in for the natural insemination process I just happened to be visiting the clinic. Your counselor ... well ... basically offered me the opportunity to participate. I never did that before or since. In fact, I scoffed it off, then saw you and ... sorry, but I couldn't resist. Would it be too forward to admit that I enjoyed it very much?"

I couldn't take my eyes off him. I shook my head. "No sir, it wouldn't be too forward, if you are being honest. I didn't have much experience, sir." Now I paused. "May I say something that might be forward?" He chuckled and nodded, of course. "Sir, it was the most mind-blowing experience I ever had." Now I blushed even deeper. He just gazed at me with a soft smile.

"Do you know what BlackLand really is, Megan?" I shook my head. That should be embarrassing, too. Then, he proceeded to explain the group of three companies that made up BlackLand: