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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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type of literature, or you are under age,
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I Remember Bethany
by The Piano Man (godan5@comcast.net)
***
Interracial Romance between an older black Piano Player
and a Denver schoolteacher. (MF, rom, intr)
***
I don't think we liked each other at first. Even though
I thought Beth was pretty, I assumed she was a dumb
Midwestern redneck and she thought I was some Uncle Tom
because of my white dinner jacket and my smooth
demeanor.
The first time I saw Beth she was working as a waitress
in the Denver bar where I played piano on the weekend.
She was from Iowa and you might describe her as 'perky'
and hardworking and you've seen a thousand like her
every four years when the media descend on Iowa for the
Primaries.
Her limbs were long and her waist was slim; small, high
breasts, ample hips and a nice round butt completed the
picture. Straight, black hair hung to the bottom of her
shoulder blades. She showed her Welsh ancestry in her
porcelain skin which freckled in the sun and her
cornflower blue eyes. I used to think she looked like
Jackie Kennedy (yeah, I'm that old) or maybe Audrey
Hepburn but now I think she looked like Juliette
Binoche (who was probably about 11 then).
Beth, 1970
Like any good waitress, she moved quickly and lightly
on the balls of her feet and she also had a tendency to
bounce in place up and down in place when she was
excited. I often saw her move through a crowded bar
carrying four plates of food or two trays of drinks
without a mishap or even spilling a drop. There was an
air of competence about her and she was often smiling
and laughing even when everything was chaotic. When
Beth laughed, her cheeks pushed up into her eyes and
gave her an almost oriental look. And yet there was
something about her in the quiet moments that suggested
a great depth and high passion.
My day job was as a medical specialist at Fitzsimons
Army Hospital. I had come back from my second tour in'
Nam' as a Platoon Sergeant with the 101st Airborne and
I had switched my MOS because I was tired of leading my
men into firefights, death and maiming for no
discernable purpose. Now I was helping to save what was
left of their lives in rehab. I still had to coax and
yell at them, but I felt much better about it. Besides
that, I could go home every night and forget about my
work.
I was about 6'-5" and when I was in the airborne, I
made it a point of pride to be fitter and faster than
anyone in the unit. I was balding and my mustache was
starting to show some gray but I still ran every day
and did pushups, chin-ups, squat thrusts and worked out
at the Dojo.
Being home had its own set of problems, though, and my
family was not used to having me home all the time. My
wife and daughters had evolved their own system and she
resented my attempts to alternately discipline or spoil
the teen aged girls. The loss of jump and combat pay
was also a problem so I took a second job as a piano
man that also got me out of the house. The drinks were
free, the tips were good and I enjoyed watching people.
Besides that, I could play anything from R&B and
boogie-woogie to classical and had a natural ear for
picking up a tune.
I was a long way from East Saint Louis and the life of
trouble that I was headed for as a teenager when I
joined the Army. Back then, there weren't a lot of
careers for young black men and the judge told me that
if I enlisted, the charges (and a couple of angry
fathers of my girlfriends) could be avoided.
The Peacetime Army of the Fifties was good and I got to
see a lot of Europe and Asia. I got off base as much as
could and with my natural ear I easily learned
languages and my way with the ivories, I could make
myself popular almost anywhere. There were a lot of
women who wanted La experience noir, and Die Schwartzer
orgasmus, and I sure experienced a lot of them,
especially the Frenchwomen. Even with all of that, I
ended up marrying one of my old girlfriends from East
St Louis and settling down (partially).
Of course, Beth's butt caught my eye and her natural
friendliness helped to break the ice. I found out that
she was a German/French Major fresh out of College and
she was teaching High School during the week. One
night, I surprised her by playing "Mon Dieu" by Edith
Piaf and "Lillie Marlene". When she found that I was
fluent in both French and German, she started
practicing her languages with me and I told her bawdy
jokes in Low German and risqué stories in Parisian
French.
It turned out that she was working as a waitress to pay
for a trip to Hawaii to meet her fiancé on R&R just as
she had worked all through college to pay for her
education (you could do that back then).
After we became good friends, she began to talk about
her relationship with her fiancé. I guess she thought
of me as a father figure and a good friend who she
could open up to and not have I put the make on her and
I tried to be that person.
Beth was engaged to a lieutenant who had gone over to
Nam that summer. He was a year older than her and even
though this was the swinging sixties, she had been a
virgin until they got engaged. Once they started and
she was on the pill, they screwed like rabbits in order
to capture as much of each other as possible in the
face of his looming deployment. She confessed that she
didn't enjoy the sex as much as she thought she should
and that he complained that she was repressed and
inhibited. Beth also experienced few orgasms in their
often hurried lovemaking and it left her vaguely
wanting more.
Her fiancé had written that in his visits to the Saigon
Cultural Exchange, he had found the Vietnamese women to
have a much more open outlook about their sexuality and
that he admired their attitude. Now I had been to the
"Saigon Cultural Exchange" and it was a cluster of bars
and bordellos, but I didn't tell her that.
The glamorous vacation in Hawaii she was planning on
would obviously involve sex and she was hoping to lose
some of her repression before they met and her fiancé
had suggested she try some porn. Beth had purchased
some magazines and even gone to a porno movie in a
desire to please him but she said that they just left
her cold and she wondered if something was wrong with
her.
I told her there was nothing wrong with her and that
stuff left me a little cold too. I gave her my copies
of "Delta of Venus" and "Little Birds" by Anais' Nin.
She had read Nin in college but didn't know that she
wrote erotica. I said "Yes, in addition to being his
lover, she also paid for the publication of "Tropic of
Cancer" by Henry Miller". When she brought the books
back, she blushed a little and said she liked them very
much.
I mentioned that the story about the hypnotist was my
favorite, because he was black and I could identify
with him and I knew a redhead like the woman in the
story back in Paris. Beth blushed even more but didn't
say anything more.
Later, Beth asked me how she could become sexier and I
told her that it's kind of like a mirror, if you think
you are sexy, and then you are sexy. However from my
experience if a woman wants to feel sexier she usually
starts with her underwear. If you want, you could also
wear a tighter skirt and you might try unbuttoning a
button or two. She said that she would think about
that, at least the underwear. I said I would think
about it too and she blushed again.
**
Saturday, she smiled and said that she had purchased
some French intimates and they did make her feel
sexier. She also asked me if I had any more erotica. I
told her yes, but she would have to take very good care
of it, because it was very rare.
On Sunday, Beth showed up in a tight black skirt that
hit her at mid thigh and when she bent over, it really
accentuated her great ass and legs. When she brought me
my drink, I noticed the top two buttons of her white
blouse were open and when she leaned forward, I could
see a lacy French cut bra and the curve of her breast
and her nipple from the side. I looked up and smiled
and said "Now that's what I'm talking about!" To my
delight, her cheeks flushed and she smiled again and
told me that she did feel much sexier and her tips were
even better now.
After work, I gave her the book which was written in
French but intended for the barely literate people of
French colonial Africa. I believe it had been designed
as a Recruiting tool and an anti-German, Pro-colonial
cooperation in defense of the motherland piece of
propaganda. It dated from the First World War and I had
picked it up in a quiet little book store in Clichy, it
had somehow survived the Vichy government, the Nazi
occupation and the postwar De Gaul censorship. The book
was a set of photographs done with a high quality
silver gel sepia process which showed great skin tones
and high contrast.
The book opens with an obviously drunk German officer
attempting to rape a pretty young Frenchwoman.
Suddenly, a very large, very black, French Senegalese
soldier with mud still on his puttees and trench coat
burst into the room. He seizes the officer and knocks
him out with one punch. Together, the girl and the
soldier defenestrate the German out and into the street
several floors below her window.
The girl then turns to the soldier with her clothes
still torn and in disarray, declares him "My Hero" and
kisses him. The colonial soldier is at first startled
but then returns her embrace and then lifts her easily
on to her bed. She quickly divests him of his clothes
and expresses happy astonishment at the size of his
manhood.
What follows is a series of sexual postures both on and
off the bed. I found it unusual in that they displayed
great pleasure in the sex, including smiles, sweat and
flushed skin across the face and chest. The final
picture in the series shows them in post-coital bliss,
him on his back with a large grin, one hand thrust
between her legs and the other resting on her head
which lies on his abdomen. Her face has an equal smile
with her glazed cheeks and lips nestled against his
tumescence, still gleaming from the fruits of their
lovemaking.
The final two pictures are what make the book unique
for the first shows the fiercely proud soldier in full
dress uniform bedecked with medals and his beaming and
very pregnant bride standing outside the parish church.
The books' final illustration is of the soldier
complete with paterfamilias mustache, pipe, evening
paper and easy chair while his still smiling wife is
setting the dinner table with several mixed race
children playing at their feet.
I gave the book to Beth and she handled it gingerly and
with mixed emotions, promising to take good care of it.
She brought it back the following Friday and told me
that she had been both aroused and fascinated with the
book, but it had obsessed her imagination and even
bothered her dreams. Much later, she told me that the
image she couldn't get out of her head was of the
blissful Frenchwoman with her lustrous and dripping
lips wrapped around the soldiers gleaming ebony shaft
buried deep inside her mouth.
After she gave the book back, Beth asked with
hesitation if I didn't think the soldier was unusually
large and I responded that I didn't think so. She
stammered with her cheeks reddened and said that she
meant his "thing". I again responded that I still
didn't think he was all that large. Her eyes widened
and I saw them drop to my lap. She quickly looked up
with her cheeks crimson and her nipples stiffened and
then started to apologize. But I cut her short and told
her "Thank you, it's not often that an old married man
gets a compliment like that". She bashfully smiled
again and quickly went back to work.
For the next few weeks, Bethany was bubbling with
excitement as she planned her romantic trip with her
new bikini and see-through baby-doll nightgown. Once,
while she was a little drunk, she confessed to
masturbating with a vibrator and she could hardly wait
to try out some of her new sexual ideas on her
betrothed.
Then one day, she was really down in the dumps and when
I asked her why, she told me that her fiancé's leave
had been cancelled and he was being sent up-country and
that he would be out of touch for a couple of weeks. I
thought that sounded a little bogus but I told her not
to worry, his R&R would soon be rescheduled and they
would soon meet up in Hawaii. She cheered up and was
soon back to her normal self but still slightly
subdued.
The next Friday I found her in tears and she showed me
a letter from her brother who was in the Signal Corps.
He wrote that he had seen her fiancé's name on the
manifest of a Saigon to Sidney flight and went down to
the Bangkok terminal to greet him. Instead what he saw
was her very drunk beloved with an Australian nurse
hanging off him bound for two weeks of R&R or I&I
(intoxication and intercourse) as her brother put it.
I told her how sorry I was and that it might be a case
of mistaken identity. She replied that her brother
would not have written unless he was absolutely sure.
She began to weep bitterly against my shoulder and I
fought the urge to mouth platitudes about "tomorrow is
another day." and "There's more than one fish in the
sea." Instead, I just held her and stroked the back of
her head until she stopped crying. I gave her my
handkerchief and she thanked me for just being there.
She said "You're a good friend, George" and kissed my
palm before returning to work. However, I could tell
that she was just going through the motions.
Later, after closing time, as I was headed out to my
car, I spotted Beth sitting in her old gou-shi (beat-
to-shit) mustang with her head on the steering wheel
and tears streaming down her face. I knocked on her
window to ask if she was ok and she rolled it down,
sobbing "My brother left me this piece of junk two
years ago and tonight it won't start. I spent all my
money on a plane flight I can't use. The busses have
stopped running, my fiancé is a louse and I'm
freezing."
I told her to get out of the car and to lock it up and
that I would drive her home and look at her car in the
morning. She responded that I didn't need to do that
and that she could just sleep in the car. I said "No,
It's only going to get colder and this is not a good
neighborhood for a woman by herself. I'm telling you
that you need to get in my car and let me take you
home. Here, take my coat." She finally agreed and
locked up the mustang.
Back then, I was driving an older model Mercedes s300
that I picked up in Germany, used, on my last tour and
that I kept up myself. The car had bench seats and a
huge interior and very useful when the kids were small
for long trips and you had to keep them at least three
feet apart. When Beth climbed in and I had the heater
running, she noticed the broad plush seats and the fine
woodwork and remarked on how nice the car was. I
replied that it was ok; it was like me, built for
comfort, not speed.
She laughed and replied, "You're in great shape."
"You mean, for my age."
"No, for any age." And then her cheeks reddened even
further as she realized that it sounded like a come on.
I smiled and handed her my hip flask of 180 proof
homemade plum brandy and she thanked me and took a
swig, coughed and exclaimed "Whoa, that's strong stuff,
but it sure warms you up." Beth then gave me directions
to the walkup over a liquor store she rented. We were
sitting in the parking lot in back when she asked if we
could just sit and talk for a while.
I said I understood and pulled out a joint and fired it
up. As we talked, I handed it to her and she took a
toke and began coughing violently. I said "Be careful,
this isn't your college shit, this is grade A Nam Boo
mixed with black tar opium." She replied that it was
ok; she could stand to get really stoned, so I offered
to shotgun her.
As I took a mouthful of smoke and blew it into her open
mouth, she inhaled and held it. When she exhaled, Beth
remarked that it felt as if the back of her head was
floating away. I told her that was just her neck
muscles relaxing.
About the third or fourth time I leaned in to blow some
smoke into her mouth, Beth just looked me in the eyes,
closed hers and kissed me. Our mouths joined and our
tongues pushed into a wet embrace. When we broke, she
apologized and told me that she shouldn't have done
that. I responded that I had been wanting to do that
for some time and pulled her into another deep long
kiss.
When we broke our kiss the second time, she was running
her fingers inside my open shirt collar on my pectoral;
she marveled that it was so broad and firm. I followed
suit and slipped my hand into her blouse to cup her
small upturned breast. "And this is so soft and
beautiful."
"Thank you, George, for letting me feel pleasure
again."
"If you want pleasure, try this." And I reached inside
the glove box to pull out my special mix of Xing qu shi
and K-Y jelly, opened her blouse and began rubbing it
on her chest, pushing her bra over the top of her
breasts. As the mix of warmth and cooling took effect,
she sighed, closed her eyes and her nipples turned into
pebbles as she kissed me again. Beth then unbuttoned my
shirt and started rubbing the mix on my chest and abs,
again marveling at how fit I was.
I thanked her and as we were making out again, I was
running my hand back and forth on her thigh and ass.
When I slipped my hand between her thighs, they parted
and I could feel the dampness in her panty hose.
Beth groaned and her hand dropped down onto my lap and
she started to massage my Johnson. When she felt its
size, she exclaimed "Oh Lordy, now that's a hunk of
meat."
I found a small hole in her pantyhose and I worked my
finger into her wet folds as my tongue found her
nipple. She arched her head backwards and pulled me on
top of her." Please George, I need this."
I pushed her skirt up and started to pull her pantyhose
down and she lifted her butt to accommodate while
tugging at my belt and zipper. I kicked of my trousers
and boxers but left my shoes on (old habit from my teen
years-in case I needed to run). As I climbed up between
her knees, my open shirt held my thighs and abdomen in
shadow. As she stared at what was looming at her out of
the darkness, I drank in the sight of her wide open,
well-muscled, thighs, smooth stomach and magnificent
bush. It was thick and full and had a wispy trace that
extended up towards her belly button.
Now I know that the latest fashion dictates that women
should shave their nether regions smooth, but as a
father who has diapered his infant daughters, I find it
to be a complete turnoff. Perhaps after Brittany Spears
latest display, more people will agree.
As I found and stroked Beth's slick button, I noticed
that she was still mesmerized by what was bobbing below
my belly. "Last chance to back out." I broke her spell
and she looked up with lust lidded eyes.
"Shut up and kiss me you fool." And she pulled me
toward her.
I applied the mix to our genitals and she guided me
with trembling fingers to the furled rose petals of her
labia. As I encountered her tightness and began to
enter, I saw her grimace and bite her lip as I worked
myself into her warmth, but Beth just pulled me tighter
towards her. I paused after about seven inches to let
her get accustomed to being so full and then I backed
out until just the head was in and I rocked back and
forth with just a few inches of penetration. When she
gasped and clutched at my ass I buried the whole nine
inches into her until my balls were up against her
perfect cheeks.
"Oh my god, it's so big." She cried out and wrapped her
legs around me, rocking her ass back and forth against
my thighs while her eyes opened wide and lost their
focus.
As I pulled back with each thrust, I could feel the
walls of her vagina tugging at my shaft and I rocked
back and pushed her legs toward her chest so that I
could see the joining of our flesh. As I worked in and
out of her, the shining coral of her inner lips turned
to violet as they followed my gleaming coal black
piston. The rosy crucifixion spread across her chest as
I looked up to find her gaze from between her knees
locked on the workings of our lovemaking.
"It's so beautiful." She whispered with a husky moan
and pushed her head back against the armrest. Her heavy
lidded eyes locked on mine and she pulled me down on
her. Beth then began to pull my shirt off over my head
and claw at my back. Her face flush and her eyes rolled
back with fluttering lids, she began to buck wildly
until with a violent spasm, she gave out an
inarticulate "AAARGH!" and I felt a sudden gush of
liquid flood against my testicles.
The beautiful slapping and squishing of our nether
regions filled the car along with a heady musk and the
windows steamed as we continued to bend our backs
against that cold November night. With my fingers
between her cheeks, I could feel her juices running
down the crack as she panted and jerked against me. I
slowed and kissed her neck while she caught her breath.
"Thank you, George: that was wonderful."
"Hold on little girl, we ain't finished yet." And I sat
up and lifted her left leg so that her ankle was next
to my ear. I kissed her sole and I began to pull her
back and forth against my chest and abdomen. My neck
was jammed against the car roof but I could watch Beth
with her petite Tetons jerking and her eyes rolling
back and forth as she clutched at my ass and thighs.
Beth had her right foot braced against the steering
wheel as she reentered le petite morte and I was afraid
she would break it when she came groaning and straining
in her orgasm.
I paused again to lay down behind her on the seat while
we caught our breath. As I did so, I plopped out of her
and she, trembling and panting, asked if I had come
yet. I replied to the negative and asked her if she
wanted to quit.
"No, I want to feel you coming inside me." With that,
she reached down to grasp my slick member and thrust it
back into her equally wet love channel.
I grabbed her left thigh, and began to really slam into
her. I asked if she liked my old 'nigger cock'. She
turned her head to look me in the eyes and said "Oh
yes." as she reached back to pull my ass into her.
"I want to hear you say it. Unh-unh! I want to hear you
say that you love being fucked by this old nigger cock.
Unh-unh-unh! Say it!" as I thrust her wet red ass
against my loins.
"Oh god, yes, fuck me George. Fuck with your big nigger
cock, I want you to come in me. Fuck me hard. Come!
Come for me baby!" she screamed.
"Yeah! Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. I'm gonna
cum. Open up and take this old nigger cock. I'm gonna
cum. Unh-unh-AAARGH!" and with that, time seemed to
stop as her cries echoed mine as we spasmed against
each other and I pumped myself into her.
I continued to work myself back and forth in her and I
looked down to see her pubic hair plastered to her
thighs and mound with sperm frothing out with her
fluids. When I started to pull out, she whispered
"Thank you, I never knew it could be like that. Isn't
that beautiful" as she looked down to see me imbedded
in her center.
When my dick finally came out with a soft plop, a
torrent of cum followed it down her ass and on to the
seat beneath. "Oh my god, I'm sorry, I've ruined your
seats!" I told her not to worry, I had been Scotch-
Guarding the seats since the kids were little.
Suddenly the color left her face "Oh no, that's right!
You have a family and now I'm a home wrecker!"
"Relax, my wife expects me to cheat a little and I
expect she's been off the rez herself a few times while
I've been deployed. Besides, if she knew your
situation, she would agree that you needed a good screw
and she might have loaned me out herself tonight."
"Oh, great, does she charge a stud fee?" and we both
laughed and she leaned her head against my chest. "You
know that picture book you loaned me? Well, right now I
feel just like that French girl. I don't think I could
feel any more satisfied."
I noticed that her gaze was still locked on my
opalescent fluid covered Johnson. "Well how about it?
Do you think you could fit that on your mouth? You
could always try" she looked at me to see if I was
serious and I could tell she was tempted but then she
noticed that it was getting light outside.
"Oh god, you better get home. I don't care how open
minded your wife is. I don't want her asking questions
about me!" with that she sat up and put on her shoes
and started to straighten herself up.
"Well, you better take these if you don't want her
asking questions." And I handed her pantyhose to her.
She laughed happily and stuffed them into her purse,
kissed me and got out of the car and headed up the
stairs to her apartment. As I got dressed, I watched
her until she was safe. She paused on the landing to
wave before going inside. I can still remember her
wistful smile, her disheveled clothing and the tiny
stream of jizz running down her leg.
To b continued?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 61