abandoning the smooth, circular motion and letting himself go with no thought of anything but his own satisfaction. When he finally started making a moan that grew louder and higher as he pumped faster and harder into my pussy t knew it couldn't be long. Then I heard him getting there.
'Lay it on me sweet baby, whip that white cunt on me… oooooh shit, ooaaaaahhhhh!'
That's when I jerked away from him, turned myself around on the bed and sucked his big black cock into my hot mouth. I knew he was just short of coming, so I didn't have to hold back my own reactions. I had my mouth so full of his prick that I felt a hot whirlwind inside my wet cunt and as he shot his white come into my mouth I was getting my cookies right along with him. We both screamed and then fell back in satiated exhaustion.'
Then he collapsed his hulking body on me like a falling barn and I damned near had the wind knocked out of me. He rolled off me then and dragged me over on my side as he did so. The movement put my head on his stomach and I found myself staring right at his wilted cock. My eyes were only a few inches from it, and it was still plenty big even in its withered state.
I felt all over myself to make sure I was still in one piece. I thought that he must have knocked the wind out of me with all his thrashing around.
After he got his clothes on, he got a big drink of water from my refrigerator and before he went out the door he said, 'Thanks for the action, pussycat. When you need a big dick in you again get in touch with me. And thanks for the blow job, too. See you around.'
I thought that was damned ungrateful of him, not to mention being unromantic as hell. But then, his actions weren't much different from what I'd more or jess gotten used to from men. It seems like they're all the same, black or white. Well, it's true that this Negro had a giant cock on him and as it turned out, he was pretty damned good.
The hell of it is that I just know he'll call me back again whenever he gets horny. But I don't want it like that. I want to feel like something besides a pair of tits connected to
a hairy cunt separated by a warm stomach. So I won't let him have any more. If he calls I'm just going to be very indifferent. A new thrill is what-I'm after. I've already experienced all he had to offer.
And there's one small thing that's good. At least I did what I set out to do. I wanted to see if I could come with a Negro cock and was it any better a mouthful than a white one and I found out. Even if the answer was 'No,' I can at least say I tried it. And I can rule out one more scene in my attempt to achieve bigger and better orgasms. Experience is the best teacher, they say. And that's true even if it teaches you something you didn't want to know.
Good night, Diary.
Dear Diary,
I haven't written to you for two or three days because I've been so busy at the office. Tonight when I got home there was a special delivery letter waiting for me from my mother. I was going to go back for a vacation in three weeks, but Mom asked in the letter if it would be possible for me to get my vacation moved up to now. A terrible thing has happened. Curt, my old boyfriend, has been killed in a car wreck and she wants to know if I can be there at the funeral. She thought I'd want to know about it and I appreciate her mentioning it.
Tomorrow I'm asking my boss if I can start my vacation immediately and I think I have a good chance of getting it. When I come home from work tomorrow I'll know. Bye for now.
Dear Diary,
The boss is letting me go. I'm going to pack tonight and leave on the 10:30 Denver flight, then transfer to another flight for Des Moines. From there I'll have to take a bus.
I hate to take a plane because it's so expensive. I can't really afford it but it's the least I can do, I figure, in memory of Curt. I thought an awfully lot of him, in spite of the way I felt toward him the time I let him go all the way. I'll write all about my trip and when I get back. I guess there won't be much to tell, since I'm going there now just because of Curt's funeral, but I'll report whatever happens. Bye for now. See you in a couple of weeks.
Dear Diary,
Where do I start? So much happened to me while I was gone that it seems like it'll take me days to tell everything. I'll tell you right away that I had the wildest sex scene I've ever had in my life. Yes, even wilder than when I was in the park with the guy in the gray coat. I felt like I must be going crazy to have done what I did. And my mom
and dad were mortified, not to say anything about what other people who found out about it thought.
But before all that even happened I had a rather unnerving experience on the plane. It was okay from here to Denver. Very uneventful. But from Denver to Des Moines it was a different story.
A guy sat down by me and tried to strike up a conversation. He was all right but I really I didn't feel like being very sociable because of t the funeral coming up and everything. He was thirty or so, and good-looking enough, but I just wasn't in the mood.
He introduced himself and then proceeded to give me all kinds of compliments. He kept trying to get me to open up and talk to him saying things about the way I looked.
'Have you ever been on TV?' he asked me. 'You sure do look familiar.'
And 'If you haven't been on TV, you should be. I guess you know you're an awfully attractive girl, don't you?' Stuff like that was what he kept saying.
Finally he quit bothering me and I went to sleep. About thirty minutes later I felt something touching me and I started waking up a little but I was still kind of groggy. This guy was taking advantage of me while I slept, but I was too far asleep to understand exactly what he was doing. Then I felt a hand on my blouse and I realized that this creep was working his hand around on my tit, copping a feel through my clothes. That really made me mad. I woke up and, lo and behold, this buy had his cock out in his hand and was playing with himself while his other hand was caressing my boob. I sat up straight and started to bawl him out good. When he saw that I had noticed what he had been doing, he increased the speed of his hand on his cock, got this real glassy-eyed look, and shot white come all over the back of the seat in front of him. Even though it was dark, one of the stewardesses happened to see him-she had probably heard him breathing hard like he was doing while he was playing with my boob-and she ran over and spoke sharply to him, then went up front and told the captain. When we landed a policeman was waiting for him and they asked me if I wanted to file a complaint. I would have done it but I realized I'd probably have to appear in court sometime and I knew I couldn't come back to Iowa just for that, so I told them that I didn't want to file a complaint, that I'd just let it go. But before I left them I gave the guy a dirty look that I hope showed him what a low down creep I thought he was for doing that to me while I was asleep.
When I arrived home I talked to Mom and Dad for a few minutes, then went to sleep. The next morning they took me to the funeral home where Curt's body was being held and I went in alone to view him.
Mom and Dad said they'd come back and pick me up on their way back from the store. The funeral wasn't going to be until the next day. When I first entered the
building I was shown into the mortuary by an assistant of the funeral director. He pointed down to the room where Curt's body was lying and told me that I could 'observe the deceased.' for as long as I wanted. He was real nice. On the way down the hall by myself I passed by another hall that branched off. I looked down it and happened to see an attendant pushing a metal table with a corpse on it. But it wasn't; like I would have expected it to be. This corpse didn't have any sheet over it or anything. And it was the corpse of a girl about my age, a girl who was very good-looking. I remember thinking if I died some stranger would get to look at me like that attendant was looking at that girl's body. And he sure was looking at her, too! He wasn't missing a thing. He was looking at the girl's body like he wanted to be on top of her doing it to her. I couldn't help wondering what he might do to her body once he wheeled it into a room where nobody could see him. The thought of him looking at her like he had made chills run down, my spine.
Then I came to the room where they said Curt's body was. When I walked through that door, Diary, it was very eerie. Curt looked just like he was alive. They had him all fixed up so that he looked like he was just sleeping. He was wearing a blue suit and tie, and white shirt, and his hair was combed just like he always did it in real life. It seemed like he might just open his eyes at any moment and start talking to me.
I walked right up to him and looked down into the casket at him. It was on a raised pedestal, so he was only slightly higher than if he, had been lying on a bed. Bed. The word stopped me cold. I started remembering how Curt liked my body when I'd known him in high school, and how much he would have liked to get me in bed. True, I'd let him do it to me that day on the ground, but I knew he would have liked it better if we could have been in bed. Back
