The Indian Lakes Country Club end-of-season tennis banquet was held the following Wednesday night in the clubhouse ballroom. Chloe and I sat at the lead table since Chloe was the captain-elect of the women’s team.
Notably absent were Dr. Patrick and Eliza. According to the official word from his office, Dr. Patrick had not been feeling well and had canceled his surgeries for the week. Despite this, Chloe had informed me that we had a “dinner date” planned with the Patrick’s for Friday night.
Sitting at our table were Lisa Markowitz (Ellen’s sister), her husband Saul, DeMarcus Brown, his wife Lurleen, and a couple recently arrived from Thailand, Suchart Dusitpirom and his wife Lek.
Saul Markowitz is the most notorious plaintiff’s lawyer in Seattle. A rotund, garrulous man weighing well over three hundred pounds, he made a small fortune with the Federal Tobacco settlement early in his career. He also received over one million dollars from Vince Gilligan Productions to purchase the rights to his copyrighted slogan “Better Call Saul,” which Markowitz and Associates LLC had been using on billboards for years before the debut of the “Breaking Bad” series in 2008.
“Downtown” DeMarcus Brown, played six years as a tight end for the Seahawks before a knee injury ended his career. Despite his stereotypically urban nickname, DeMarcus is an erudite man and a respected academic. His father, Clive Brown, was a highly regarded musician best known as the bassist for the Dave Brubeck group. DeMarcus played his college ball at Dartmouth and made the Seahawks roster as an undrafted free agent. During the offseason, he completed his PhD in Mathematics at Stanford and now is a tenured associate professor at U.W. His specialty is in mathematical manifolds, and he teaches a graduate seminar in the iconic proof of Fermat’s last theorem.
DeMarcus’ wife, Lurleen, is a tall, sexy, southern blonde woman. She is unfailingly polite and a delightful conversationalist. Before marrying DeMarcus, Lurleen lived in Nashville and briefly toured as one of Garth Brooks’ backup singers. Their twin boys Brad and Chad play on the local Little League all-star team.
The Dusitpiroms are new to Indian Lakes. Reportedly, they moved here from Chonburi, a small city about one hour from Bangkok. The Thai language has no tenses. Without a means to express the past or future status of a verb, they have some difficulty expressing themselves in English. As a result, they often have difficulty communicating with their neighbors. Having said that, they smile a lot and they seem to be well-liked.
According to one account, Mr. Dusitpirom, a small-statured Asian man – perhaps five foot five inches- in his late sixties, made his money as an early minority investor in Red Bull, the popular carbonated stimulant beverage. Of course, the other rumor is that he runs a travel agency specializing in Bangkok sex tours. This is the kind of xenophobic rumor that easily circulates in a community like Indian Lakes. His wife Lek (which is the Thai word for “little.”) is a tall woman in her early thirties, perhaps five foot six, stylishly dressed with elegant gold jewelry on her wrists and around her neck. She has all the appearances of an age-inappropriate wife of a successful older Asian businessman.
Saul started a little conversation with Lek, who was seated at his right: “Sawadi Cop” (hello) he initiated.
“Poot Thai Keng!” (You speak Thai) Lek responded.
“Nit Noy,” (a little) Saul followed.
“Oh, you speak Thai so goood!” Lek crowed. “Where did you learn to speak Thai so goood?”
“Oh, I spent some time in Bangkok when I was in the Army,” Saul announced.
Their conversation continued intermittently throughout the evening.
After dessert was served and before the coffee arrived, Chloe and Lurleen excused themselves to visit the ladies’ room. DeMarcus excused himself as well. Saul was in the back of the room bantering loudly with a group of similarly large, loud men. With our partners away from the table, Lisa whispered:
“The girls are all saying that, for the sake of our marriages, you should be giving fucking lessons to the men in this community.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” I whispered back.
“Yes you do,” she answered.
“So who is the blabbermouth now?” I asked.
“Not saying,” she responded.
“So you’re just protecting your sister,” I asserted since it was pretty obvious that neither Eliza, Chloe, nor I would be circulating this gossip.
“Maybe,” Lisa countered. “I think she might deserve a spanking.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that would represent a disincentive to your sister,” I added, “I will say, however, that Ellen does enjoy witnessing spankings.”
“She also enjoys watching a man give a quality fucking to his woman,” Lisa interjected. “Your performance satisfying Chloe and Eliza last Saturday night made quite an impression on her!”
Lisa’s excitement was palpable at that point and I had to encourage her to whisper.
“Quiet,” I whispered. “Do you want a spanking too?” I joked.
“Seriously,” pouted Lisa, “would you want to have THIS thirty-nine-year-old bare naked white ass in your lap for you to redden with painful slap after slap after slap?”
Giving me no opportunity to respond, she laughed and stood up, turning her firm athletic backside – enveloped in a tight-fitting gold evening gown – toward me at eye level. After arching her back for a second, bringing that target even closer, Lisa sauntered toward the bar.
I would have followed her to the bar but I needed time for my erection to soften. Eventually, after adjusting myself, I stood up to make my way to the restroom. Kylie, who had been sitting next to Bart at a nearby table, sidled up to me and whispered:
“Bart gave me a spanking last night.”
“Uh, I guess that’s nice?” I responded with a degree of uncertainty.
“It was,” Kylie answered, “but I have to tell you that you do it better,” at which point she offered a knowing smile and returned to her table.
Of course, now, with another erection developing in my pants, I couldn’t go into the men’s room lest someone misinterpret the source of my stimulation. I put my hands in my pockets and took some time to admire the old paintings on the walls.
Speeches were made, awards were given and soon it was time to head home.
“Two more days until Friday dinner with Dr. Patrick and his delicious wife Eliza,” I mused as we drove home from the club.
Friday
When I returned from work Friday, Chloe met me at the door, threw her arms around me, and kissed me.
“Our guests will be here around 7. I invited the Browns to join us but Eliza just called to say that Neal still wasn’t feeling well. She will be coming by herself,” Chloe announced.
The 16-year-old boy in me silently chuckled about the unlikelihood that she would be “coming” alone.
The Browns are bringing barbecue ribs from Johnson’s Barbecue on Garvey Boulevard. Lurleen tells me they have the tastiest ribs in town.
“Almost as tasty as the ribs that DeMarcus has his big black cock up in every night,” the 16-year-old boy again spoke silently to me.
Chloe was frosting a cake in the kitchen for dessert when Eliza arrived at 7 pm on the dot. I opened the door with a smile. Tall and sexy as ever, she wore a tight blouse and a long flowing skirt. I had to wonder if she had bothered with panties, or perhaps if she had brought an extra pair in case her first pair ended up getting soaked with her juices.
Eliza gave me a gentle hug and a peck on the cheek.
“Thank you so much for letting me enjoy your big cock last weekend,” she whispered in my ear.
“You really should thank Chloe. My cock is her property. She is the generous one,” I responded.
“Ah, yes,” Eliza sighed. “You are such a good man.” She then strode to the kitchen to join Chloe.
“And a hard man,” I mused as I adjusted my erection.
A minute later, DeMarcus and Lurleen arrived with three shopping bags full of barbecue, cole slaw, beans, and sauces.
“That looks like enough food for 10 people!” I exclaimed.
“Always better to have too much than too little,” DeMarcus responded.
“I’m sure Eliza would say the same thing,” I thought to myself.
The three of us brought the food to the kitchen. Lurleen complimented Chloe on her baking skills.
“That cake is absolutely beautiful. My grandparents owned a cake shop in Nashville when I was little,” Lurleen shared. “All the Grand Old Opry performers got their cakes from us. I have a picture of me and Minnie Pearl from when I was two years old. When I was ten I went with my grandfather to deliver a cake to the set of Hee Haw. Saw Charlie Weaver smoking a cigarette and cursing at the wardrobe technician in the alley behind the studio.”
Chloe laughed. “Charlie Weaver cursing? Seriously?“
“Oh, he was mean,“ Lurleen continued. “He yelled at her, ‘You fucking cunt! You expect me to wear this piece of shit on set? Are you trying to kick my career down the shit hole? Get me something decent to wear, God fucking dammit!’”
Chloe and Lurleen shared a volley of embarrassed laughter.
Eliza set out plates and utensils for dinner. Huge tubs of ribs, beans, and coleslaw were laid out on the center island. Two gallons of tea sat nearby – one sweet, one unsweetened.
We all filled our plates, poured drinks and sat around the dinner table. Chloe opened the first of several bottles of Cabernet to be consumed that evening.
The initial dining table chatter involved discussions about the ladies’ tennis team: the pairing of doubles partners, the rivalries between the other country clubs in the region, and whether they thought the new assistant coach – a 22-year-old boy fresh out of college – was sexy or not.
DeMarcus and I discussed the tribulations of the academic world, including grant applications, teaching assignments, and navigating promotion and tenure committees. DeMarcus explained that he was a candidate for full professorship next year and was counting on the publication of two important articles in high-impact journals to seal the deal.
Eliza, unfortunately, had a hard time breaking into any of the conversations. She had no background in the academic world and had not become fully integrated into the world of ladies’ country club tennis yet. As a result, she tended to sip a little more aggressively at her wine glass, which seemed to be getting refilled on somewhat of a regular basis as dinner progressed. When she tried to enter the conversation, her comments were often marginally relevant. Admittedly, her beauty saved her a bit. Excited to learn that DeMarcus was a “math teacher,” not fully appreciating the distinction between a math teacher and a PhD professor of mathematics, she shared a long story about her difficulties in her Junior year high school trigonometry class.
The conversation moved to the living room. Eliza, sadly, spoke for very little and continued to sip her wine. After 15 minutes or so there was a lull in the conversation. Eliza spoke up:
“My husband is a urologist. His cock is tiny. He says that black guys have really big ones.”
Chloe and I both flinched in embarrassment and moved to suggest that perhaps Eliza needed to take a break from the wine. Lurleen smiled and, gesturing supportively to Eliza, pronounced:
“Oh honey, I understand your curiosity. I felt the same way when I was your age.”
DeMarcus chuckled as Lurleen spoke.
“One evening on the Garth Brooks tour, I walked into Arnold McCuller’s dressing room – he was one of the other backup singers – and got myself an eye full.”
“Did you?” DeMarcus asked her.
“No, honey,” he wasn’t interested in me, Lurleen clarified.
Eliza seemed much more relaxed now that she was the center of conversational attention.
“All I will say is that I am a very happy and satisfied woman,” Lurleen added.
After a brief pause, Lurleen leaned in toward Eliza and asked: “Would you like to see it?”
With a degree of apprehension, Eliza looked at Chloe, then me, then DeMarcus, and back to Lurleen.
“Uh … well … yeah,” Eliza whispered back to Lurleen. “I mean if Professor Brown doesn’t mind.”
It seemed so cute that Eliza would address him as a Professor in this setting.
DeMarcus sighed, shrugged and smiled. His response resembled that of a young man whose parents have asked him to go to the piano and play a song for assembled guests.
DeMarcus stood, placed his hands on his hips, arched his back a little and, after making eye contact with Eliza, looked down at his pelvis.
Eliza got up from her chair, walked toward DeMarcus and started to unbuckle his belt. DeMarcus nodded approvingly as she unbuttoned the waistband of his trousers, unzipped his fly and pushed his trousers and his boxers down to his mid-thighs.
“Oh my fucking GOD,” shouted Eliza as DeMarcus’ massive thick black cock sprung from his pants. Chloe gasped with widening eyes. I took a deep breath in shock and admiration.
It’s not like I had never seen porn before. I have always been a fan of the videos where one or more cute young blondes or, even better, redheads get enthusiastically skewered by giant black cocks. Seeing a cock like that in person, however, was a completely new experience. I would compare it to the difference between watching an NHL game on television as opposed to seeing one in person. It is a qualitatively different experience.
Eliza touched the long, now straight and hard, shaft with the tips of her fingers. She traced its length up and down in awe of both its size and its turgor. Removing her left hand from the shaft, she cupped his large testicles as if to weigh them. She continued this worshipful process for almost a full minute until she placed her left hand under Demarcus’ shaft and used her right hand to raise the front of her long skirt.
Presenting her full dark brown beaver to DeMarcus, she asked gently: “Would you be willing to…” Her voice trailed off.
“I was right – no panties,” I thought to myself.
DeMarcus turned to Lurleen, ostensibly to ask permission.
“Of course, you can,” Lurleen responded to the unspoken question. “If I said no, you would hate me forever,” she added as she smiled warmly at her loving husband.
Eliza bent over and kissed the head of DeMarcus’ erection. She then took a cushion from the sofa, lay it on the floor, and lay back on it, tilting her pelvis upward while raising her skirt. Her sweet young vagina was now officially presented to DeMarcus for his taking.
Now, there was a pause.
“Not to be too boastful,” DeMarcus announced, “but this young lady is going to need some preparation before this,” gesturing toward his massive penis, “can be put to work, if you know what I mean.”
Suddenly, all eyes landed on me.
I had always heard it said that black guys won’t eat pussy. I guess this was to be the case here. I now realized that if I was not prepared to “step up” Eliza would go home unsatisfied and the rest of us would miss out on an exciting show.
Rationalizing that one could be assigned much worse tasks than licking the labia, sucking the clitoris and deep tonging the G-spot of a hot 25-year-old woman, I joined her on the floor, grasped her buttocks in my hands and prepared to go to work. Further rationalization came from the recollection that “Downtown’s” touchdown catch in the 2015 NFC championship game allowed the Seahawks to beat the spread and helped win me a parlay for over $1000.
I owed him a favor.
After 5 minutes of well-executed cunnilingus, resulting in Eliza enjoying a few mini orgasms, DeMarcus tapped me on the shoulder and thanked me for my work.
“For this to work, Eliza,” DeMarcus instructed, “I’m going to need you to turn over and get on your knees and elbows.”
Eliza complied with the instructions. DeMarcus positioned himself on his knees behind her and placed his hands on her hips.
At this point, Chloe jumped up, raced to the bathroom, and ran out with a Magnum condom, which she offered to DeMarcus.
DeMarcus responded with a hearty laugh, “These Magnums may be fine for little boys, but they will not fit me. Hell, Magnum XLs only go three-quarters down this shaft!” pointing to his long phallus.
“Don’t worry, I’m on the pill,” Eliza reassured all in attendance.
With all watching excitedly, DeMarcus went to work. With one hand on her low back and one on his shaft, he rubbed his cock head up and down her labia. After a minute or so he gently inserted the head into her vagina. Eliza gasped in shock at its girth. In and out and in and out, DeMarcus worked his cock into her: one inch in, half inch out; one inch in, half inch out; one inch in, half inch out. Perhaps two inches of cock were embedded in her when Eliza yelled, “Ow.”
“Should I stop?” DeMarcus asked with utter sensitivity and sincerity.
“NO!” Eliza yelled, twice as loudly.
The performance continued: inch in, half inch out; inch in, half inch out; inch in, half inch out until, at last, he was fully inserted.
This is followed by several minutes of long, full-length in-out strokes. Eliza convulsed in orgasm at least once every 60 seconds. It appeared that DeMarcus could have continued this performance for hours, but after about 15 minutes, DeMarcus looked toward Lurleen, who smiled and pointed to her wristwatch, suggesting that it might be time to return home. DeMarcus nodded to Lurleen in acknowledgment and then turned his attention back to Eliza. He was now committed to the “home stretch.” He grasped her hips more tightly, almost raising her off the carpet, arched his back and with a roar, emptied himself into her. The emptying process lasted almost a full minute. Eliza’s pelvis tilted appreciatively in an animal effort to maximize the volume of seed engaging her cervical os. Finally, Eliza collapsed like a rag doll on the carpet and DeMarcus’ long, softening, wet, glistening cock slopped out of her vagina.
Chloe stepped away for a moment and returned with warm washcloths for the two performers to clean up with. So much goo was leaking out of Eliza’s vagina that Chloe had to get her a second cloth.
DeMarcus and Lurleen collected the leftover barbecue, offered hugs to all and headed out the door. “I trust you saved some for me,” Lurleen teased.
“Of course, baby; we’ve got at least 8 more ribs to eat when we get home,” DeMarcus laughed and smacked Lurleen on her butt as they headed to their car.
Turns out Eliza did bring a pair of panties for the after-party. She put them on now, which at least served to capture the residual semen which continued to seep from her well fucked vagina. Chloe opened another bottle of wine. The three of us drank and recapped the performance we had experienced. After a few minutes, Eliza began laughing.
“I certainly fooled him!” Eliza laughed.
“How?” Chloe enquired.
“I’m NOT on the pill!”
While Eliza chuckled about this apparent ruse, Chloe and I shared a look of shocked horror.
The silence was broken by an endless stream of police sirens and lights followed by an ambulance that raced by our house.
Curious, we looked out the window. It appeared that they were heading toward the clubhouse.
Leaving Eliza resting on the sofa, Chloe and I followed the parade of emergency vehicles to the Dusitpirom’s house. The police had created a crime scene barrier so we could not get closer than 100 yards. An ambulance sped past us. In handcuffs, the police walked a heavyset man from the front door and shoved him into the back seat of a waiting squad car.
“Saul?” Chloe questioned.
“Oh, my fucking God,” was all I could say.
