The story you are about to read includes very explicit reference to sex. If you are not old enough to read this story where you live, or if you object to frank language about sex, please read no further.
If, however, you enjoy sexual fantasies and a bit of humor along the way, please read on!
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Hi, my name is Becky, and I live a life that I could never have imagined. I have a husband and two wonderful children, but they don't know about me. At least, I hope they don't. You see, I have absolutely no way to say no to black men. When I'm near them, my whole body responds, and when they speak to me, all I can say is, "Where? When? How?"
It all started this way:
"Bye, y'all! Be careful! Bring back lots of fish!"
I waved goodbye my Richard, my husband, and Jason and Mike, our sons, as they pulled out of the driveway for their first ever "Men only fishing trip." It was a tradition that Richard's dad had started, something he enjoyed so much that he insisted that he take the boys once a year on a fishing expedition. This year, they were going salt-water fishing, to the ocean. Just a little pier fishing, but it still made me nervous. I watched them roll away hoping they'd all come home to me safe at the end of the week.
They had decided to go during the week after Easter, because Richard said the fishing was better when the water was cooler, so I had the week to myself. I still wasn't sure what I was going to do with all this time, but I figured I'd do a few things for myself. A spa day, that sort of thing.
I didn't even have a job to fill up the days. Richard and I had agreed that we wanted the boys to have a mom at home, at least until they started school. Jason was in second grade, and Mike was in half-day kindergarten, but I hadn't yet returned to work. I had been talking to a local PR firm in Charlotte, but I was still wanting to work part-time, and they weren't looking for a part time person.
So, I walked back into the house and got my car keys. I took my Taurus to the grocery store, to buy food for the week. I loaded up on things that I like, things the boys would never eat, and that I missed, and a couple bottles of good Pinot Grigio, and put them into my trunk to go home. We lived then, and live now, in a house on the outskirts of Charlotte. A nice two story colonial, on a wooded half-acre lot that had lots of privacy. Arriving at home, I fixed myself some linguine and scallops with a light wine sauce, and finished the rest of the bottle, which was the beginning of it all.
I drank all the wine because I was feeling a bit lonely and sorry for myself, sitting in that big house, all alone, and then I fell asleep in the den, in Richard's big, overstuffed recliner, watching his big plasma tv. And I forgot to turn on the alarm. Since that time, I've wondered if I did that unconsciously, but intentionally. I don't know, but I might have.
I woke up when the door from the garage into the house opened. I was disoriented, couldn't remember why I was in Richard's chair, couldn't remember why I had a dry mouth and a bit of a headache. Then I heard footsteps, and my heart jumped into my throat. Richard kept a gun in the hall closet, but the ammunition was hidden in our room. Besides, I've never been comfortable with guns, so instead of fighting, I decided to hide. Whoever it was wasn't turning on lights, so I thought I could hide well enough under the wet bar in the back of the den. I crawled back there and tucked myself under the bar as the footsteps headed up the stairs to the bedrooms.
I thought about trying to get to the phone in the kitchen, but then I heard a second set of footsteps on the first floor, in that part of the house. I felt my waist, finding the clip for my cell phone, but no phone. No way to summon help, so I tried to be as silent as possible.
I nearly screamed though, when I heard a voice, just the other side of the bar, yelling. "Hey, Kris, you find anybody up there?" Then the answer, "No, bro, not a one. I told ya, I saw 'em leaving with a car full of luggage and fishing gear and shit. They'll be gone a long time. We can hang here the whole week I bet." So, this Kris saw Richard leaving with the boys, and thought I was in the car. They were looking for a place to stay.
I heard a click and the pole lamp in the far corner of the den came on. I was still hidden, but if either of the two men came behind the bar, I was in plain sight. It was all I could do not to cry. I was shaking so badly I thought I'd make the bar rattle. I heard footsteps clunking much more noisily down the stairs. Hey.. T. Here's some real clothes. Put 'em on. No need to wearin' them grays no more."
"Thanks. Man, I'm tired of wearin that same shit every day. Gonna get me some decent shit first thing we get outta here. I bet these folks got some good shit, too, stuff we could take to Mack, get some cash."
"No, shithead, that ain't the plan. We steal shit, the cops'll be all over this place, and sooner or later, they'll figure out it was us, and they'll be back on our trail. No, we leave it how we found it, and just use this place to lay low a while till they lose the scent. By then, they'll figure we're in the City, or in Mexico or some shit. Just be cool, and work the plan."
"Yeah, yeah... whateva... shit." I heard Richard's recliner groan as T collapsed into it. He had to be big. It was a big, sturdy chair. "I guess I could like bein' here for a week or so. Gonna be like a a fuckin' hotel."
"A hotel with a fuckin' bar!" said Kris. "Want a drink? I don't think the three bears will miss a couple shots o' Jack." Footsteps got closer. I tried to melt into the floor. There was no way to hide, no place to go. He was coming around! I was going to be found!
At first, the man didn't notice me, but I saw him. He was dressed in gray pants and a matching plain gray shirt. He had his back to me, getting a glasses down off the shelf behind the bar. Across the back of the shirt it said, "Property: Dept. of Corrections." Oh god. Convicts. They would kill me. I couldn't help giving a tiny little scream as he turned and I saw his eyes flash to the human form curled beneath the bar.
"Well, damn! Whatta we got here?" He reached down and took me by the wrist, pulling me upward, but I was locked in a tiny ball, unable to relax. He pulled harder. "C'mon, lady, get up. How come you're here? Your old man leave you here all alone?" He was laughing, but I could tell he was a little worried. He hadn't expected to find anyone. He wanted to be alone in the house for a week. I was in the way. I was in deep shit.
T jumped out of the chair when he saw me. "Holy fuck! Who da fuck you got there?"
"Must be the guy's wife. Thought she was gone. Guess I'm wrong."
"No shit. Whatta we gonna do with her?"
"Well, I'm not quite sure. Sure as fuck messes up the plan, don't it? Still, she ain't goin' no place, and I don't think she can even talk, she's so fuckin' scared. Lemme think on it."
