That mysterious woman wasn’t living far. It was a twenty-minute walk from the third-story pad* I had been living in for a year and a half, that is, since I got back from the war in Europe (*pad means “flat”, “apartment”). I found myself lucky to have made it back to America without any Nazi bullet in my skin. Life was going swell for me, but I was getting lonely and I was a bit awkward around people. I was having a hard time fitting in where I worked, but I was hardly the only war veteran who had trouble making the transition back to peacetime.
Like all young men, I was eager to meet a nice girl, marry her and start making babies. Things were not going all that well in the girls’ department. I had returned to Olympic weightlifting and started again from where I had left in 1943. Now it was 1947. I was twenty-three years old, six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and really strong, with a full head of dark hair, but I was hopelessly shy around girls.
In France, my fellow GIs wouldn’t believe how shy I was and how much prompting I needed to get in the sack with a sex-starved woman who was twenty years my senior.
And here I was in Philly. Single. Tall and decent-looking and wearing proper street clothes with a swell fedora hat, yet hopelessly single.
I was strolling on busy streets; it was early evening. There were a great many passing cars, and long rows of parked cars, most of them black, brown, green or dark blue. I recognized a beige Chevrolet sedan from 1940. The 1948 models had been out for sale for a month. In parks and alongside the avenues, the tree leaves were all ablaze with October’s fiery oranges, reds and golds.
Throngs of pedestrians were out and about. Two men out of three wore a suit and a fedora hat, but no trench coat as the weather was very pleasant; all women wore a dress or a skirt and blouse with a jacket or open coat, and some sort of round hat, often adorned with some shiny bauble.
Their dresses covered their knees in all cases; I loved watching their stockinged lower legs and heel-shoed feet as they strolled by on the busy sidewalk under a dusk sky. Well, I loved watching broads altogether.
Women’s hair was well groomed and usually worn around shoulder length and tied up in public. Men’s hair was trimmed short; I saw no man with long hair. Nearly all of them were white folks.
Some hobos and street cleaners were there as well with battered plaid shirts and workman trousers or jeans and dirty shoes. Many of them were black men. I spotted young couples walking hand in hand. Policemen were patrolling afoot; they greeted the nicely dressed people and kept a suspicious eye on the not-so-well-dressed people. Cops were suspicious by trade.
As I reached Chestnut Street and passed the Horn & Hardart automat restaurant, I noticed a fine-looking brunette, perhaps twenty years old; nice dress, and a very stylish round hat. Her green hat perfectly suited her wavy, chestnut hair. Her wool cardigan was equally stylish and its color matched her hat and perfectly complemented her dusk pink dress. People dressed with style in Philadelphia. Perhaps she was from an Italian family, for she had a rather large nose, but her complexion was Irish-pale.
Was she looking my way? My heart began to race. I almost managed to say hello. I walked past her. Was she smiling? It seemed she was indeed looking at me. Two minutes later, I understood in a flash that I should have said, “Good evening Miss! This is a mighty fine weather to take a stroll!” and something nice might have developed from there.
I rushed back to that spot in front of Horn & Hardart. Of course, she was gone. As usual, I had been too shy and slow. In such a big city, my chances of bumping into her again were next to zilch.
I went back and reached my destination—a small, second-story pad where lived a young woman who called herself an affordable witch and said over the phone she would help me for a small fee.
I knocked on her door, number twenty-two.
“Come right in! It’s unlocked!” said a wonderfully feminine, soprano voice aloud, using an inviting tone.
I walked in. It felt like entering the home of a gypsy woman; it was dark-wooded and filled with a plethora of bizarre artifacts, small bottles and whatnots. She walked into the room. She was a blonde with long hair that streamed down to her lower back. I was surprised; from the way her living room was furnished and decorated, I was expecting a raven-haired fortune teller.
She wore a black gown, tightly adjusted under a thin belt at her waist, letting me make out her child-bearing hips and the medium-sized curves of her breasts. She smiled and offered me a glass of wine.
“I was expecting you! Normally, my door’s locked, mind you, but, oh, I was still thinking it could be a robber, or perhaps two or three of them!”
As she spoke, she gently put her left hand above her left breast and almost caressed it while handing me my glass of wine. It was fine; just as fine as any wine I had drunk in France or Germany. This girl had style! And sexy too.
Her gaze followed my gaze; the blonde witch smiled as she caught me looking at her boobs.
“I see that you found your way all right, Mister…”
“Oh… I’m Dean! And you…”
“I’m the Witch! I may be something less later on, but for now, Dean, I’m the Witch!” she said as she gracefully started to dance and whirl in her living room. I watched her as I drank my wine.
Then, as she whirled and danced and kept playfully smiling at me, the hem of her gown was freely waving at her ankles. I noticed she was barefoot. Oh, God! Her feet were really a treat to watch; I had a mighty hard-on as I kept looking at her dancing feet, the pitter-patter very dim on her forest-green carpet. The whiteness of her feet was bright against that carpet.
“I don’t dance like that for all my clients!” she said, laughing. “I select them, my dear! This is only a sideline, a witchy sideline! I know a lot about you, perhaps more than you know yourself!”
As she spoke, I became petrified. My jaw dropped in utter astonishment. Her hair was raven black now! I couldn’t have been mistaken; I positively remembered her hair when I first walked in—she was a blonde. Impossible!
She laughed.
“You like dark hair, don’t you! And you like a girl’s feet too!”
I tried to snap out of my state of shock. I faintly nodded. I emptied my glass of wine. Right now, I needed whisky!
“All right! Shall we begin?”
She put a tender hand on my meaty shoulder as she gently spoke, looking up at me from her petite, five-foot-two frame.
Her touch on my shoulder sent a clear message and completed the flagpole status of my erection, which now slightly impeded my walking. The raven-haired witch laughed her head out as she led me by the hand in her dim-lighted kitchen.
We sat at a round table, face to face. Her dark hair was smoothly shining under the dim tawny light. There were tarot cards and a large crystal ball emitting a spooky blue light, a deep-sea kind of blue. There was a soft, silky tablecloth of the same green as the rug in her living room. Incense and something like frankincense were gently persuading me to sit down and listen to the lovely witch.
She looked a bit younger than me, perhaps twenty or twenty-two years old. She was fresh-faced with really delicate features. The paleness of her cheeks told me that I would uncover milky-white charms if I undressed her.
“You may be surprised if I told you my age; I’m a tiny bit older than I look. And as for the rest, we’ll see.”
She told me this as if she were reading my thoughts. I could feel deepness and learning in her emerald-green eyes as she looked at me, so I believed her. Perhaps she was thirty, but there was no way she could be older than that.
She cast her head back as she exploded in laughter. “Thank you, young man… Oh, you really flatter me. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“But… How can you…”
“Oh, the train of your thoughts is easy to deduce. Haven’t you read Edgar Allan Poe and Dupin’s methods of reasoning, or Sherlock Holmes and his logic?” she said in a gently mocking tone. She kept smiling at me; her gaze never left my eyes.
“So, what can I do for you, Dean? Give you some potion to make you attractive to the girl of your dreams?”
“Yes…” I replied, flabbergasted at her uncanny ability to read or deduce my thoughts. “I… I was thinking about something like this.”
“Oh, come, Mister! You don’t need any love potion, a man as young and strong as you; and besides, potions are dangerous! They have unpredictable side effects. No, all you need is faith in yourself and self-confidence! But let’s begin with the present moment, shall we? I’ll read tarots for you so you can relax a bit. All right, let’s begin…”
She shuffled and drew her tarot cards with devilish speed and accuracy; she was fantastic! I flipped the cards… The Hermit, Death, The World.
“I see,” she said in a low tone while I was checking her breast shapes. “I see… In the past, you were alone. In the present, you are entering a big change with a sense of renewal. For the future, there is the World for you—a sense of achievement, fulfillment, and completion. You will achieve something that you’ve always wanted! And I can help you with that!”
Before I realized what was happening, the Witch had left her chair and she was all over me, kissing me and wrapping her arms around me, filling my field of vision and my nostrils with her raven hair and her fragrance!
“Take me, young man! Take me, right on this table! Oh, you’re so big and strong, and I’m so bored. So, fuck me! Fuck me on this table and you’ll feel a lot better!” she purred between kisses. I heard her snapping her fingers.
As I heard her referring to her table, my eyes went on the green-covered tabletop while she sensually kissed my neck and slid her nimble hands under my pants. Again, a new shock, a new surprise! The crystal ball had disappeared. There were only the tarot cards left.
“Come on, my hunk! My beefcake! Put me on the table and use me!”
Getting really horny, I did what the Witch asked. She yelped with excitement as I picked her up like a feather and put her down on her fortune-telling table butt first.
Her feet being nearest to me, I grabbed her ankles and started avidly kissing and licking her delicate toes and the amazingly soft skin on the top of her feet. My dick was ragingly pushing the front of my pants as I fully took in the scent, feel and contours of her lovely feet and ankles while she purred and begged me to fuck her right now, urgently.
She had raised her black witch’s gown all the way up to her thighs, showing me the way. I delightfully ran my hands over the white silkiness of her calves, her knees, then her alluring thighs, going higher and higher while pushing her gown up, eventually tucking it against her waist.
She wore nothing underneath! Her naked vulva was casting a natural spell with her neat vee of raven bush that predictably matched her long, shiny hair. Her witch’s hat had predictably fallen on the checkered, black and white kitchen floor. I didn’t remember seeing her with such a pointy hat; I could have sworn she wore no hat, but there it was, lying on the floor.
Realizing with stupor that I was going to copulate for the first time in more than two years, I felt a surge of manly power. My dick stuck out at flagpole-attention when I hastily dropped my pants and boxers, acting on her words as she kept begging me to fuck her right here and there.
I still wore my white shirt and brown necktie; I didn’t care. She was still wearing her gown, yet the shapes of her breasts had a powerful effect on me. As hard as a breeding horse, I forcefully spread her legs apart, hearing her loud purring, and I advanced into her with my seven-inch dick pointing right at her inviting pussy, the coral-colored lips of which I plainly saw under her black vee of mystery.
I pushed the purple head of my circumcised dick and went right inside her soaking wet cunt. She let out a loud groan and caressed her own breasts through her gown as I began pounding her like a madman! I loved it. I had often dreamed of fucking a fortune-teller right on the very table where she had just done her fortune-telling, and it was happening, except she was a genuine witch.
As I pounded her with relentless abandon and gleefully felt her tight vagina massaging my young prick, I watched her as she kept purring and caressing her boobs. She was still clothed while I was grabbing her naked thighs. Her breasts were covered, yet I felt immensely aroused at the sight of her moving mounds. The effect was just as strong as if I had seen her bare breasts jiggling as I fucked her on that creaking table.
I suddenly remembered her feet; her lovely feet… So sexy! I raised her legs all the way up, then, I squeezed them together with a slight bend in her knees, in such a way so that her feet were right next to my face. Then, I grabbed her ankles and pounded her like a psycho whose only goal in life was to pound women as hard as humanly possible. I precummed as I moved her legs a bit sideways, so I could watch her beautiful head bobbing on the creaking table along with her moving breast shapes.
She was whimpering hard as I kept powerfully rocking her 100-pound body with my 220-pound frame. Her arms were freely resting on both sides of her pleasure-distorted face, so her breasts were dancing under her gown, their enthralling shapes offered to my plain view. She clearly wore no bra under her witch’s regalia.
Suddenly, she groaned in a peculiar high-pitched tone as she violently shuddered on the table, its legs creaking wild as I hammered her. I gleefully felt her vagina throbbing and squirting around my dick. She orgasmed, powerfully, and I kept going, trying to pound her even harder.
As she kept being rocked and taken on her fortune-telling table, she looked me directly in the eyes and voiced her post-orgasmic bliss…
“Oh, my young Sir… Ohh, God, oh, oohh, ooohh! Yes! Yes! Yes! They got me! They got me! In the showers… In the showers, with their big fat dicks! Aaah, aahhh, no, no, you can’t do this, I’m a witch, I’m a white girl… Oh yes… Yes! Yes! Yes! Keep going!”
She had a second orgasm, her mouth wide open and her eyes closed; her face was unbelievably pretty as she faintly groaned, high-pitched in her intimate sounds. I was utterly reveling in the act, wondering how I managed to stay on active duty for so long inside her tight paradise as I kept pounding her, watching the alluring paleness of her legs and feet while her breasts kept jiggling like crazy under her black gown, with her long hair glimmering under the kitchen’s dim lights.
“Oh, Ma’am! It’s there! There! It’s nrrrhhh! Uuugghh!”
I blissfully exploded inside the witch! I felt the hot relief and listened to her purring as three or four powerful bursts of icing were spewed out of my bursting cock…
This was so much better than the first-time sex I had experienced with a forty-year-old German Baroness while my squad mates were busy gang-fucking her twenty-year-old daughter; of course, they had left me with the old one and taken the youngster for themselves. I had fucked her on a massive oak table while hearing her daughter climaxing in the arms of my fellow GI’s.
But this! Witch love! I no longer envied my buddies, for I knew that the maddening explosion of cum I had just experienced inside my twenty-two-year-old witch was far stronger than anything any of them would ever experience.
My lovely companion quickly put herself together again after a well-deserved bathroom break. We sat together at the table, which had stood under our wild fuck session. The tablecloth now had a diffuse scent of female juices where I sat. Her crystal ball had mysteriously materialized back in its previous spot in the dead center of the round table.
“Do you feel better now, Mister?” she asked in a jesting tone. “Now, let’s talk about my price… No, don’t take out any money! I’m not asking for money. I want something more, something more fleshy and tangible. You see, I know a great deal about you. You’re an Olympic weightlifter and you do your lifting four times a week at Smith & West Gym, in a black neighborhood.
“This is an all-black gym. I’ve always wanted to go there, but they won’t let a white woman there, unless she is with a lifter from their club. Of course, I could use my magic to seduce one of them and get what I want, but where’s the fun in that? No, I want to go there with you, as your new girl companion. And this will be my price for helping you.”
“Just that?”
“Just that. And something tells me that you will love being there with me!”
I nodded and said I would talk to my fellow lifters and the gym’s owner. There would be no problem at all. I would call her to fix the time. All was settled.
Then, I invited her to go a nearby diner with me, but she declined.
I had hoped to spend the night at her place and bang her a second time, this time seeing her in the nude, but she laughed and said I would earn such a privilege only when she would find herself in that all-black gym as the one and only white woman there.
She said she would come there stripped of all her powers. Whatever she had in mind—I had a pretty good idea what it was and hoped I was right—she was to have it as a woman, not as a witch.
Eight days later, there was quite a commotion at Smith & West Gym. A white woman was a very rare sight among these black lifters. That gym had only three white lifters, who had joined on a special recommendation from a full member, and none of my fellow white lifters ever brought their wife here; they would never do such a thing for all the tea in China.
My lovely witch was there, watching all the lifters and disturbing their concentration without saying a word. Back then, black men were usually referred to as “colored”. Not all of them liked white women, but some did have a fancy for them and their forbidden beauty.
As I watched her as I trained, I could tell she was immensely enjoying all their gazes on her white person.
She wouldn’t tell me her name, allowing me to call her Wendy if I preferred, but insisted on the W initial. Since she had come to the gym as a woman, I decided to call her Wendy for the occasion.
Wendy looked remarkably like some movie actress—wavy black hair that she had styled carefully, a fresh-looking face that was just as pretty as the prettiest pin-up done by a top-notch painter, and a burgundy-red dress that deliciously showcased her assets.
Many a lift was missed due to the lifter looking a bit too much at her stockinged lower legs, clearly visible since her dress reached only about two inches down her knees. Her thin leather belt powerfully showcased her lithe waist, her hourglass figure and the ungodly beauty of her perky breast shapes—such boobs as I had never seen in the flesh myself in spite of having fucked her like there was no tomorrow.
To say I enjoyed seeing her walking around in the gym was the understatement of the year. She kept smiling at and eying the lifters. I overheard a middleweight saying, “Thank God my wife never comes here!” He had a powerful tent in the front of his training trousers.
The shape of her butt was a sufficient cause for the world heavyweight champion to miss a routine snatch. He was doing his eight sets of two using two-fifty, and he held the world record in the Two-Hand Snatch at 307 pounds. Like all of us, he always snatched using a split style, dropping under the weight with one foot forward, one foot behind.
“What happened to your technique and speed, Mister John Davis?” joked Lloyd, the gym owner, a grey-bearded man with a warm-looking, often-smiling face, his skin a healthy chocolate brown. He lived his Olympic glory days in 1920, 1924, and 1928 after he had fought in World War One. Lloyd had seen the dawn of the current three-lift era; in his younger days, the competed lifts were many, and some of them were performed using one hand only; today, all competitions featured the same three lifts—the Clean & Press, the Snatch and the Clean & Jerk, in that order. The best three-lift total won.
John Davis decided that tonight was not a good night for the quick lifts such as the Snatch and the Jerk. He stripped the barbell down to 135 pounds and started training on the brute-strength lift—the Clean & Press.
He worked to an incredible 285 pounds—two big plates, one 25-pound plate, and a 5-pound collar on each side—which he handled for ten sets of two, making the loaded barbell look like a toy. He was pretty much the only man in the world who was capable of manhandling 285 with such ease. Needless to say, he held the world record in that lift too.
He had nothing to prove. He had won the world title again a month ago, right here in Philly.
All lifters who weren’t training the press followed the champion’s wise example and started to work on their skill in the fine art of pressing as much weight as possible overhead using only shoulder and arm strength.
Wendy kept smiling as she watched all these ebony musclemen cleaning and pressing their weights. Some were disciplined enough to work with their usual training poundage, but many overloaded the bar in an attempt to impress Wendy’s dreamy eyes.
The training session soon started looking like an impromptu lifting contest. I didn’t partake in this and simply kept on working with my planned weights, taking John Davis’s example and doing ten doubles of overhead presses using 225 pounds, a whopping 25 pounds heavier than what I was using eight months before when I was first admitted to this grunts-and-grit gym where ebony muscles were the norm.
I was leaning back against the wall between sets, letting the world champion give me some more advice on the delicate part of the press, where the bar is sailing past the forehead and the triceps are suddenly finding themselves on their own to complete the press.
John Davis only stood five feet, eight and a half inches, but he weighed just as much as me, and I stood six feet one and tipped the scale at 220 or 222, depending on how hungry I was. My waist was getting blockier with slabs of muscles from supporting all these heavy weights overhead, and I was proudly displaying a trim waist when I stood in the shower. But John Davis… He was a modern-day Hercules with granite muscles from head to toe.
Wendy kept eying him and did all she could to attract his attention.
She was really arousing to watch, a lone white woman, looking classy with her dark burgundy dress, her double pearl necklace and her white day gloves that acted like ivory beacons against the dark background of dark wood and black iron, not to mention the black lifters who grunted and strained in front of her, while they constantly threw side glances at her breast shapes—her boobs rode high on her chest and teased their cocks from beneath her glamorous dress, tightly attached by numerous buttons only two inches apart.
I was as hard as a breeding stallion from watching her walking around and showcasing her curves and her raven-hair splendor. I could tell she was breathing hard and nearly sweating as I sensed all those male gazes on her. I almost felt like all these lifters were going to jump her any second and they would strip her naked before taking their turns inside her in a shadowy corner of the gym, between a rack of barbells and some antiquated globe dumbbells.
I couldn’t wait for the session to finish. I knew what was going to happen. I went through my clean pulls and my back squats with a persistent and raging erection, thinking of what Wendy was going to look like in the nude.
John Davis went through his usual five sets of five with 450 pounds in the squat, which he did with ease, in his usual rock-bottom style with heels on a two-by-four plank. Then, he went into the locker room, from which he reemerged ten minutes later when two or three lifters were still going hard at it, maxing out in the squat and trying to impress our special guest.
Wendy distributed playing cards to the five men she chose. I knew what it meant; she had told me over the phone when we were fixing the last details.
One man declined the offer by handing her card back to Wendy, who didn’t look offended like so many white women would have from being rejected when offering sex. She did look a bit disappointed when John Davis gently kissed her hand and politely took his leave. He was now a married man, at twenty-six years old, and he didn’t partake in such post-lifting festivities. Even a witch doesn’t always get what she wants. She said she was doing this as a woman, and this was most certainly part of being a woman.
I admired the humble way she handled rejection. I was taking a genuine liking for her; I was beginning to love her.
I had a nearly painful hard-on when I saw Wendy handing a card to Big James, a nineteen-year-old powerhouse who was well on his way to becoming a world-class heavyweight. I watched the petite woman, standing five feet two, right next to this six-foot-tall ebony man with cannonballs for shoulders—he had a massive, smooth frame of thick muscles from head to toe. I nearly precummed in my Bermuda shorts from knowing that this 255-pound black lifter was going to fuck her with me watching.
Wendy also gave a card—the King of Spades, I noticed—to the gym owner, announcing a wild age-gap fuck. She then gave a card to a lightweight nicknamed Slim Jim, due to his being unusually thin for a weightlifter, yet he was amazingly strong, and I knew he would hold Wendy in his arms like she weighed nothing. He was peculiarly dark, with coal-black skin and shiny muscles, and the notion of a white girl wrapping her legs around him drove me nuts.
Then, she gave the Jack of Clubs to a sleek-faced guy who was of average weight—a 165-pound middleweight with a physique that looked like an African Apollo; his name was Earl. I saw his dick forming a visible tent at the front of his workman’s trousers. Wendy tenderly stroked his shoulder and blew him a kiss as she handed him the card; the gangster-looking man grinned at her with unbridled fire in his eyes.
Last but not least, she gave a card to Anvil-Face Henry, another heavyweight, but smaller and shorter than myself. He stood about five feet nine and usually competed around 195 pounds—the Heavyweight class included all lifters above 181 pounds. There were talks about creating a 198-pound class, which would be perfect for Henry.
Anvil-Face Henry had got out of jail a few months ago after serving time for armed robbery. He was now back to lifting and sticking to his parole conditions; he was on his way to an honest life, mostly thanks to John Davis and the brotherly atmosphere of the Smith & West Gym.
The other lifters all quickly took their leave; a lot of them were disappointed, but all behaved like true gentlemen and were headed home for a hard fuck session or at least some really intense masturbation—I later learned with a grin that most of the single lifters found themselves a white hooker on that steamy night and released their sexual tension in her twelve-dollar pussy. Most of these young, healthy men asked for a refill and they were well up to the task.
Lloyd quickly locked and chained the front door.
We found ourselves alone with Wendy—me as the white watcher, Big James the powerhouse, Lloyd the grey-bearded veteran and gym owner, Slim Jim the wiry lightweight with coal-black muscles, Earl the sleek-faced middleweight and Anvil-Face Henry the ex-con.
The well-dressed, white-gloved lady looked at them as they grinned and gathered around her. She was panting with blood flushing her cheeks, and I had no doubt that her breasts were swelling and pushing the inside of her bra.
Lloyd, as the owner of the place and King of Spades, took her by the hand and led her into the locker room; he then took her to the showers. We followed her, our dicks raging hard. Removing our sweaty gym clothes was going to be quite different this evening.
The fun began.
Wendy—the witch stripped of all her powers—cast a lasting spell on Big James by throwing herself in his arms and kissing him, raising herself on the tip of her half-heel shoes to do so. She wrapped her tiny arms and white gloves around James’s bull-size neck while Lloyd and Earl immediately began running their hands all over her curves.
Their black hands explored every inch of her dark-burgundy dress, giving more attention to her breasts, her thighs, her waist, her butt. I experienced a wicked boner from watching Lloyd’s hands getting acquainted with the contours of her round-shaped butt while Earl was on the other side and gently caressing her breasts through her classy dress. Wendy was purring amid all this tropical heat.
Big James was shyly kissing her back, but he was quickly getting bolder and began gently stroking her long raven hair.
“Oh, you’re such a nice lady, Ma’am!” the big, nineteen-year-old boy blurted out in a shy, nearly embarrassed tone that had me wondering whether this big man was having his very first time right now.
Slim Jim and Anvil-Face Henry quickly got rid of their sweaty training clothes and began masturbating as they watched. I followed suit. Moments later, Wendy was the only person who was still clothed in the crude shower room with dingy walls of brick and concrete.
She undressed Big James herself, avidly and impatiently, and once she had taken a good look at his imposing nakedness, she caressed his large dick with her white-gloved hand and quickly stirred it to a nine-inch flagpole with a massive girth. The sharp color contrast between her glove and his chocolate brown was amazing to watch.
“Ooohh! So big! So big!” Wendy said, her green eyes all lighted up with wild anticipation, as she fell on her knees and took hold of it with both hands while Lloyd and Earl were stripping themselves naked.
The white lady was now on her knees, sitting on her heels after quickly removing her shoes, showing her lovely feet under her tight-fitting black stockings.
She was holding Big James’s nine-inch dick with both hands, white-gloved hands, giving a glamorous touch to his massive rod. She looked at his dark purple, mushroomed-shaped cock and started licking it, looking up at him to see how her big boy was reacting.
“Oh, Ma’am… Please, ooohha, ohh… Y… You shouldn’t be doing this, Ma’am… This… this is, ooohhh… This is not proper behavior for a nice girl like you…”
She answered him with slurping sounds. She gave him a wicked tongue lick that ran the full length of his hard shaft, before starting to gently massage it in quick, devilish motions with her gloved hands.
Then she spoke, telling him there was no reason to be shy, that she wanted to do this with him, that she loved pleasuring him and that she was dying to feel him deep inside her.
Big James’s mouth and eyes opened wide in shock as he tried to grasp the notion—he, a black boy from a poor neighborhood, having sex with Wendy, a white woman who looked about two or three years his senior.
Earl and Lloyd pushed their own cocks of darkness on both sides of her face, attracting her attention for sure. She smiled and kissed each of their cocks. Earl was circumcised; he was average in length, but the base of his shaft was so wide that his dick looked like a baobab tree. Lloyd had a respectable seven inches and still growing a bit; he smiled from under his grey beard when Wendy gleefully engulfed his cock in her mouth and started sucking him.
I watched the scene in utter delight. I didn’t even need to masturbate to remain hard; at any rate, I was saving this for later. I was the wildcard who would come into play on the eleventh hour.
Wendy kept slurping and working Lloyd’s dick with her sealed mouth as she also held and massaged two other dicks in her gloved hands—Anvil-Face Henry and Slim Jim, while Big James was watching the unreal scene with his huge dick pointing straight at her pretty face, her left cheek bulging from being full with Lloyd’s meat.
She took Anvil-Face Henry and Slim Jim in her mouth as well, coating their dicks with a beautiful sheen of black-magic saliva. She got busy, going from one man to the other, giving them love with her mouth and hands.
Earl had knelt behind her; he cupped her butt with his hands and ran down her legs, all the way to her stockinged lower legs, then he grabbed the hem of her dress and started sliding it up her thighs; she helped him by raising her butt from her heels as she moaned in anticipation, her sounds muffled by Slim Jim’s shaft that was presently in her dainty mouth.
Earl feverishly raised and tucked her dress all the way up to her waist and hips. He undid and removed her belt, then he ran his hands on her pale butt cheeks, enjoying the way her black stockings and suspenders contrasted against the milky whiteness of her flesh.
Then, in an unreal scene, Earl grabbed and lowered her panties, uncovering her intimate butt crack and feasting his eyes on her curves while holding her tucked-up dress to keep it from falling and hiding her beauty like an untimely curtain being dropped right in the middle of act number one.
Wendy began purring loud when Ear plunged his hand in the southern depths of her derriere and introduced a finger in her pussy. She was now taking Lloyd in her mouth again, sucking the medium-brown shaft of silky dark skin while purring and moaning like crazy from Earl’s fingering job.
“Hey! She’s all wet down there. Just as I thought!” Earl commented.
“Keep it up, Earl,” Lloyd said with his leader’s voice, and added, “Let’s see how high this fair lady can sing after hours! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“I think she’s got our dicks hard enough now” Slim Jim commented.
“I can’t wait to fuck this little white cutie! I know a jailhouse where she would be very popular!” Anvil-Face Henry added.
“Oh yes!” Wendy shouted as she took Lloyd’s precumming prick out of her mouth. “Oh yes! I’m your strumpet for tonight! Now, please, please… Oh, my big, tall gods of African splendor… Strip me! Strip me and use me all you want! I’ll take this big boy inside me first! I think this is his first time, so he’ll have my fresh cunt! I gave him the Ace of Club because I want him to drill me hard, long and good with his big club!”
She turned to Big James as she nimbly stood up, forcing Earl to interrupt his fingering session.
“I’ll fuck you in the ass next, you fucking white bitch!” snarled Earl, a bit sore from the interruption. He was really enjoying Wendy’s wet silkiness. He took his finger in his mouth and sucked off her female juice. He grinned. “White cunt tastes mighty good! I’d pay a lot of dough to get this taste; tonight I have it free! Lucky me!”
Wendy pressed herself against Big James. She kissed him, took his wrists and placed his hands on her breasts.
“Oohh, James! Big James! I love feeling your young touch on me! Come on, big lover boy, undo my buttons and undress me! I’ve spent so much time watching you lift and thinking of you doing this to me! Undress me, then take me and fuck me like a five-dollar hooker!”
Big James’ square-jawed face was showing complete awe and disbelief as he began to clumsily undo the many buttons of her dress top while Earl and Lloyd ran their hands all over her hips, butt and legs. Lloyd went under her dress and swiftly slid down her stockings and the undergarments holding it, discovering and caressing the pristine whiteness of her legs, until he had her barefoot and discarded the stockings in a bundle near a dark corner of the shower room.
At last, Big James managed to undo all her buttons down to the eighth one. Earl helped him; he grabbed her open dress and violently pulled the sides down her shoulders and arms, showing her wonderful cleavage and a black bra encasing her perky breasts.
“Rip it off, James! Rip it off; it’s an old bra, so come on, rip it off!” she said, panting with wild excitement.
Big James, still in shock, found the courage to do as he was told. His massive hand grabbed the center of her bra, right on her cleavage, and he pulled hard! The fabric was no match for Big James.
Wendy’s yelp of excitement echoed all through the shower room as the bra snapped broken and her milky white breasts gently bounced and fell in their natural spots with twin shadows under her boob curves.
Big James ran his hands around the contours of Wendy’s breasts, which were about average size, and looked rather generous on her petite frame. My eyes were drawn to the perfect circles of her nipples and areolas, burgundy-brownish in color and offering a maddening contrast with her pale skin; the sight fed my raging erection as I contemplated the Witch’s breasts for the first time.
Wendy moaned out loud in wild excitement, going nuts as Lloyd and Earl completed her undressing from behind while Big James kept holding and softly caressing her breasts. The gym owner and the sleek-faced middleweight dropped her dress down to her feet and lifted her clean off the floor!
“Come on, Big James,” Lloyd said in a fatherly tone. “Come on, fuck her brains out! We will hold her for you!”
“Oh yes! Yes! I love this so much! Hhmm… Come on big lover boy! I’m dying to have your huge dick inside my white girl’s paradise! Don’t be shy! And I’ll let you fuck me again later!”
I would never have wanted to be anywhere else, not for a million dollars, as I watched the unthinkable scene unfolding right in front of me—They had her in their arms; they were surrounding Wendy, her long raven hair intensifying her pale nakedness, still wearing her day gloves and her double pearl necklace that looked out of place above her bare breasts.
Lloyd and Earl were holding her arms while Big James advanced between her legs, taking one of her thighs high up against his flank while holding his immense dick in the other hand and pushing against her entrance!
She guided herself on his impaling hardness and Big James let out a loud cry of astonished triumph as he found himself deep inside her! He entered her like a charm as she was certainly soaking wet.
Big James cupped her butt and held her clean off the shower floor as she wrapped her petite legs around his thickly muscled body. He began pounding her, hitting one homerun every second as he urgently fucked her while grunting his astonished bliss. I knew first-hand how tight she was.
Lloyd and Earl firmly held her arms and encouraged the young and upcoming lifter, who pounded her harder and harder as she filled the room with her loud whimpers. I felt a bit jealous, as I was never able to pull such sounds out of her when I fucked her a week before.
“Oohh! No! No! Stop… Oohh! You can’t do this! I’m a white girl! It’s so, oooh, so improper, ooohh, oohh, yes! Yes! Keep going, keep going… Like this, yes, like this… Harder! Harder! Oohhh, yes, yes, yes… Yes! Yes! Yes! Ohh! They gang-fuck me with their big dicks… Oohhh, my black stallions!”
Slim Jim and Anvil-Face Henry pressed themselves on her sides, cupping and kneading her breasts and further driving her nuts as she let out deafening moans and climaxed hard. Real hard!
I didn’t see much with all five of them pressed around her, worshipping her, while Big James, his massive body covered with sweat and panting hard, finally let out a thundering scream of bliss and powerfully discharged his load of seed inside Wendy!
Lloyd moved in to take over. Earl had been quicker, but he let the older man take his turn before him.
Lloyd fucked Wendy in a similar way; the other men held the white girl horizontal, restraining her wrists and ankles while the grey-bearded gym owner banged her with delighted grunts and growls, ramming her in hurried jabs as she whimpered loudly. She looked like a Confederate wife getting used by a pack of black Union soldiers, using this context of war and plunder as an opportunity to fulfill her secret fantasy and willingly give herself, Eve-nude, to the brave soldiers.
I loved the sound of her soprano voice, so loud and clear, when she hit a new orgasm in the arms of the Philly black men. Lloyd kept jabbing his dick inside her for several good minutes before he uttered his ultimate growl and exploded, panting hard and maintaining the same urgent pace as he emptied his load inside the petite brunette.
Then, Earl grabbed her in a dominating way. He spoke using an equally dominating tone…
“All right, you, little scheming Jezebel! Time for you to get punished! Now, now, you are caught!”
As he spoke, Earl forced her to get down on all fours on the tiled floor. She obeyed willingly and seemed to wait for his punishing dick.
All men watched as Earl, the middleweight who looked like an African Apollo, knelt behind her and gave her his baobab-shaped instrument of darkness!
She screamed with delight as he entered her with his thick-girthed dick and began pounding her vagina in angry thrusts of hip-fueled domination. Her legs were amazing to look at while Earl held her slim waist and kept driving the twin curves of her butt into him as he delightfully owned her.
Then, he exited her cunt and I briefly saw his dick, all coated with her hot juices, before he reentered her, but this time he strained and sunk his wet cock inside her anal rosebud.
She screamed in pain as he drove his thick shaft home inside her rectum and began gently ass-fucking her, looking up at the ceiling and closing his eyes as he reveled in her tightness.
Then, he upped his tempo and started to dish out the punishment while she whimpered in pain mixed with pleasure. The Witch had been captured and reduced, stripped of all powers, undressed and humiliated. She kept whimpering in echoing sounds of female delight, enjoying the thrashing she was receiving in the showers.
“You like to strut around the gym and tease our dicks, eh? Well, scheming girl, take this! This! This! And this! Hhrrr… hhrrr… hhhrrr… Oohh, gee, she’s really something, this white strumpet!”
Then, Earl spoke no more. He went wild! He punished her long, hard and good, forcing long-winded moans and whimpers out of her. She let out a series of high-pitched groans as she hit another hard climax.
Shortly after, Earl passed his no-return point, unable to hold his load anymore; his mouth opened all the way, distorting his sleek face as he roared and dumped a long-lasting load inside Wendy’s rectum, his dick beautifully hammering her like a piston right in the center of her curvy butt as he finished spilling his hot seed. Wendy bucked and bit her lips as she received his hot tribute to her beauty.
Then it was Slim Jim’s turn. The wiry lightweight lifter took the petite brunette on the shower floor, lying down on top of her in simple missionary style, covering the white woman with his midnight-black frame. He hammered her hard while Henry ran his fingers in her hair and gleefully watched her jiggling breasts.
Wendy wrapped her legs around him and locked her ankles above his repeat-moving butt—her feet were an absolute bliss to watch in this position; I watched and masturbated. She moaned and moved her pelvis to take him deeper.
Slim Jim grunted in her face as he intensified his pounding. He didn’t last long. He screamed like a banshee, sounding like he was about to die out of sheer pleasure and he gave Wendy what felt like a prodigious amount of African cream.
“Oh, yes! Fill me up! Fill me up! I’m nothing but filth! I’m a white whore and my purpose in life is to take chocolate-brown dicks inside me! Oohhh… The heat from your jism is my reward. Thank you, Master! I handed you the nine of Spades because being in your arms takes me to Cloud Nine.”
Then it was Anvil-Face Henry’s time to fill up our guest. He laid himself down on his back and Wendy straddled him with her deliciously petite body. My eyes followed the divine curves of her legs as she settled herself on the ex-con. Her little foot against his dark thigh was a joy to watch as she let herself down on his impaling dick and sat on her heels, then started moving up and down as he gently took her waist and ran his hands on her sides, up to the contours of her breasts, which he cupped as she looked down at him, smiling.
She told him he was handsome, that he was a worthy King of Clubs, that we were all handsome, casting a black-magic gaze at each of us as she let Anvil-Face Henry bounce her on his lap while kneading her breasts.
Then, I found this was too much; I could no longer stand there and just watch, no matter how amazing the show was.
I rushed at her and seconds later, I was kneeling at her left side and caressing her hip, her butt and her leg, down to her foot; I felt the firm softness of her heel and her sole, enjoy the pinkish skin tone displayed there. I laid myself down and gave countless kisses to her wonderful foot, before running my hands up her leg again.
Big James had followed suit; he was at her right side and running his meaty hands all over her body, while she kept whimpering in repeat “ah-a” sounds as she kept being drilled on Henry’s lap. At this point, Henry had grabbed her waist again and he began frantically bouncing her, grunting with delight as he told her she was the queen of the jailhouse, ready to be fucked by all cons.
Her long hair moved and waved on her shoulders in lovely shiny strands of magic black while her freely moving breasts smoothly jiggled up and down in rhythm with her repeated impalement; she was biting her lip and whimpering each time she crashed down on the ex-con’s dick.
While Henry picked up his pace and rammed loud moans out of the girl, I began sucking her left tit, coating her brownish-red nipple with my saliva and getting my first taste of these mounds and tips that had teased my cock for far too long. My knees hurt a bit from the hard floor as I was kneeling and stooping down, but it was well worth it; I loved how her flesh firmly yielded under my mouth.
Big James was giving the same treatment to the other boob; her moaning was very close to my ears now; I felt her fingers running through my hair; she kept being bounced on Henry while Big James and I worshipped the whiteness of her breasts.
Anvil-Face Henry opened his mouth wide and vented out his raging rush as he powerfully erupted and filled her up while he kept powerfully bouncing her…
“Aaahhr! The white girl! She’s the jailhouse queen! The jailhouse queen… Nnhrr!”
Wendy’s raven head of hair bobbed aimlessly on top of her bouncing nakedness as she received his hot seed.
Lloyd replaced Henry, and soon, Wendy was bouncing on another black dick, this time it was owned by a grey-bearded man who looked like he was more than twice her age, yet he was good enough for round two. She moaned louder and wilder. Soon, she climaxed while I was still sucking her wet nipple, holding her boob and running my other hand on her silky leg.
After Lloyd had spent his load, Wendy took Big James inside her, also on top of him. She ran her small hands on his massive chest as he began punishing her with his huge manhood. She whimpered and soon went nuts. She removed her day gloves and resumed caressing his chest and shoulders.
“Mmhh… Oh yes! Oh, Big brown fella! You’re so strong! So big, mmhhh… ooohhh, and you’re so young! Mmhhh! Mmhhh… I love it! Oohh, I love it so much!” she purred.
I had stopped sucking her breast. I was really enjoying watching her breasts jiggle up and down as her nipples danced along with the impalements she kept receiving from the grunting young man, whose huge arms kept bouncing her lithe frame like a weightless doll.
Big James got into a mad frenzy. He urgently fucked her like the straddling cowgirl she was guest-starring as, nearly lifting her clean off him on each stroke while his savage grunts and groans mingled with her high-pitched whimpers. Before long, he filled the room with a primal scream as he burst inside Wendy, who received his load of seed in groaning bliss.
Then, our playgirl knelt and sat on her heels, using her discarded dress as a crude cushion for her knees against the ceramic tiles. Earl walked to her and she took his thick-based wiener of chocolate power in her hands, kissed the tip, then engulfed it in her mouth before looking up at him as she began giving fellatio.
Earl absolutely enjoyed her sucking action, while we all watched in awed silence as she filled the shower room with slurping sounds until the ebony lifter roared out loud and exploded inside her mouth! She swallowed his African porridge, then, he exited her and roared out another steaming bolt of icing for our lovely dairy queen. It landed square on her dainty face.
Slim Jim followed; she pleasured his coal-black dick, which was of a proud, surprising length for a man who stood five feet seven. She didn’t mind the smear of cum on her cheek.
When he reached the supreme moment, he pulled out of her mouth and gleefully hot-creamed her pretty face with a massive load, in two powerful bursts—the first one landed on her forehead and spilled down the bridge of her nose, while the second one formed a glistening pool on her left cheek and trickled down her chin. Below this, her neck, her double pearl necklace and her saliva-coated breasts offered quite a sight.
I finally took my own turn. My dick was nearly bursting with hardness as I urgently knelt down behind her and gently pushed her down on all fours, her delicate knees still on the burgundy-red cushion formed by her removed garments.
I inserted my impatient dick inside her and immediately precummed as I fucked her doggy style in front of my fellow lifters, feeling the insane tightness of her vagina as I grew even larger and harder inside her walls. She took my savage pounding while resting her weight on her elbows with her cheek sliding on the ceramic floor, letting me hold her protruding butt as I pounded her with loud, victorious grunts.
I imagined she was the only woman in a group of Yankee explorers in Africa, and I was the only white man in a group of tribesmen who had greeted the white explorers in their territory by taking the woman, stripping her naked and fucking her like there was no tomorrow.
As Wendy whimpered from my repeated ramming, her soprano sounds echoed throughout the shower room; I imagined she was the female explorer moaning and filling the jungle with her sounds of delight as she was fucked by each and every tribesman.
Anvil-Face Henry knelt down in front of her. While I urgently picked up my pace as I neared my no-return point, the black muscleman—looking like a tribesman indeed—grabbed her head and inserted his throbbing dick inside her mouth.
He began fucking her face and called her a white hooker as he roared and explored her mouth with his veiny shaft, while I hit my highest stick-shift gear and pounded her like crazy as I gloriously ejaculated, feeling my legs go wobbly under me as I relieved myself and filled her up.
I sat on the floor with crossed legs and watched Wendy’s distorted face while Henry was using her raven hair like handles and ramming his dick inside her mouth as fast and hard as he could without hurting her.
Anvil-Face Henry growled and shot his semen; she swallowed all of it! I realized with a rush of awe that this was the very first time I was watching a white woman swallowing the entire cum load from a black man. I was so happy to be there!
She even kissed the ex-con’s dark purple glans as he exited her, forming a tiny thread of fresh semen between his midnight-black dick and her dainty mouth; her lipstick was long gone.
Then, now that she had taken two loads from each of the men and one from me, we took a shower together, where she had no shortage of soap and frictioning hands as we felt the freshness of her wet body; running my hands in her wet black hair was worth the trouble all of itself.
We all laughed and joked like old friends. Then, as all good things must come to an end, we toweled ourselves and dressed back into our street clothes. She had a spare dress—of a beautiful royal blue—in her large purse, and she put it on. With unreal speed, she made herself beautiful and glamorous again with burgundy lipstick that fit her complexion to a tee.
Once we had grabbed our jackets and our fedora hats, we headed out on the street. It was really late; well past midnight. We hopped and squeezed ourselves in Lloyd’s 1942 Cadillac and he drove us to Horn & Hardart, knowing it would be open with probably not a customer in sight, as the late-night couples usually went to smaller diners at such a late hour.
“It’s probably going to be only us and Old Lou; oh, I love your perfume, honey!” said Earl, who was sitting beside Wendy and cuddling her.
“Who’s Lou?” she inquired.
“He’s the old cleaner guy,” I explained. “He’s there, washing the floor and making sure no late customer is breaking the glass panes or anything; I’ll introduce you; he’s a great old chap!”
“Mmhh…” Wendy smiled. “Maybe this old cleaning man is going to get some extra tip tonight!”
I grinned as I kept caressing her thigh under her dress; she had dispensed herself with putting back her stockings and her bare skin was ungodly smooth after her shower.
TO BE CONTINUED
