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Subject: {ASSM} MB17 Devil Inside by Rachael Ross (f/M, Lolita, Interracial, Cheat,  Oral)
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Note: Mixed Bag is a compilation of stories by Rachael Ross and
contains a Foreword and 65 chapters. It is being posted to ASSM
largely in sequence. See MB00 for a table of contents. All stories
copyrighted 2008 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. rache696@yahoo.com
visit my website at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rache/www/index.htm and see my
blog http://anarchyforbeginners.blogspot.com/ for additional
information. Thanks. -rr


Adults Only

Mixed Bag - Chapter Seventeen



Devil Inside

by evil little sister


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Story Codes: f/M, Lolita, Interracial, Cheat, Oral

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=




    Do you think some people are born evil? That's what our pastor
says sometimes at church. That some folks are just born with a devil
inside. Sometimes I think I'm that way. I have some strange ideas, I
know that, some weird thoughts and I don't know exactly where they
come from or why. They're bad, some of them, but I'm not sure if I'm
really evil or not. I just don't know.

    I saw the man I wanted to marry at the Payless shoe store at the
mall. He was older than me, old enough to be my dad probably. I didn't
see any kids though. It was his wife that got my attention first. She
was pretty loud, in a mean way. She wasn't much to look at, well, I
have a hard time finding anything attractive about white women anyway,
but some of them are okay looking. Mostly it's a personality thing.

    This woman was kind of mean looking. Tall and big hipped, a big
round butt and thick thighs. Not real fat mind you, just big, and if
she wasn't careful she was going to be fat, and not too far in the
future neither. She had a little belly already, not a big one, but a
little roll going on beneath her tits. They were neither large nor
small, but just there and even with that clunky bra she was wearing,
which looked more like a back brace or something under her blouse, her
boobs had some sag starting already.

    Kind of a dirty blonde woman, you know what I mean? She had frizzy
split ends and didn't know how to wear her makeup. She was a typical
white thirty-something housewife to my eyes. She'd gotten married to
the first guy who fucked her probably and now she was living with it
and trying to make him pay. She really talked down to the man too,
like he was a child.

    "Sit right there, Harold," she'd say, "and don't move until I'm
done buying my shoes."

    That kind of thing. No respect at all and the man was taking it
too. He probably just put up with it because it was easier than seeing
her really mad. White women. They want the whole world on a platter, I
swear. I don't know why men marry them. I can almost see why a guy
would fuck one; I mean that might be okay. Everyone knows white girls
make pretty good whores, if they start young enough, but marriage?
Living with that for the rest of your life? That's a pill waiting to
be taken, you know?

    And Harold wasn't a bad looking guy for being old like he was. Of
course, I have to admit that I have a serious thing for white guys and
I don't know why. Maybe because the sweetest fruit is the one you
ain't supposed to eat, like the pastor says. I like the temptation
though, and I like giving into the temptation even more. That's part
of my evil thoughts, my bad devil inside peeking out. White guys are
my weakness. I just love them too much and that guy, he was tall and
kinda stoop shouldered, but that was the weight of his wife's
attitude, I was sure. If Harold was with a wife who appreciated him,
he'd be upright and proud, and that was the man I wanted to see.

    He had a full head of brown hair and a pleasant face, a smiling
face, and that was probably another reason his bitch of a wife stomped
him down. He was just too nice inside. Harold wasn't a bad guy at all
and good guys don't know how to deal with women, everybody knows that.
Sometimes you have to put a woman in her place and that doesn't come
from me or the devil, that comes from the Bible like the pastor says.
A man is the head of his house and a woman's gotta respect that. So
long as he's doing right, working hard, taking care of his family and
being a man, well, his wife has to remember her place and when she
forgets it's a husband's duty to remind her.

    The problem with a man like Harold is he's just got a big heart. A
big ol' forgiving heart and he started letting his wife get away with
disrespecting him. He gave her an inch and she took a mile and it's
his fault, I'll give you that, but damn, I sure couldn't send a man to
hell for being too kind and generous, could you? Hell was where Harold
was living and I could see it plain as day. His handsome face was a
mask of woe as he sat there, nodding at every venomous word his wife
uttered.

    He even pretended not to notice when his wife, being the typical
white slut she was, flashed the boy helping her try on some shoes.
Harold saw it though, the way the woman would spread her thighs so
that pimply faced shoe boy could see all the way up to her curly
gates. Harold saw it because his wife made sure he was looking when
she did it. I didn't know if she was doing it to see if Harold would
say something out loud, or if it was because the woman knew he
wouldn't. Either way, I'd had enough.

    I'd picked Harold and it was time to marry him.

    Now, you may have guessed that I'm a black girl. I'm a very pretty
black girl too. I'm popular and smart and I have a lot of friends,
black and white. I live in the upper Midwest, so we have our problems
like anyplace does, but it isn't like you're thinking maybe. There's
no inner-city in our town. No Compton or Rodney King or Million Man
Marches stuff. It's Minnesota, okay? We have a whole bunch of
Norwegians and a bunch of Vietnamese fresh off the boat, and a bunch
of black people, all trying to survive the blizzards.

    Well, that might be a little simple, but anyway, I'm only fifteen.
But everyone thinks I'm older, which is kind of nice. It would be
nicer if people thought I was twenty-one, then I could go clubbing,
but mostly they think I'm seventeen or eighteen usually. If I say that
I'm a senior in high school most people, strangers, they don't even
bat an eye, and I feel grownup too, that's the thing. I don't talk or
act like I'm a high school freshman. I talk like a normal person. I
like talking.

    I'm tall, almost five foot seven, which is a couple inches taller
than my mom. I was a little worried for awhile that I was going to be
even shorter than her, but one day...Zoom! I was looking her in the eye
and a week later, looking down at her. But not looking down on her, no
way! My mom's righteous and I love her. I might be taller than she is,
but I'll always be looking up to her, you know?

    I have black hair, and it's kinky yeah, but I comb it out and get
it permed so it's more straight and falling around my shoulders. It
looks good like that. I have a heart shaped face and big brown eyes,
caramel eyes to go with my dark brown skin. Red lips, I got lucky
there, and they aren't too big, but full and pouting when I need them
to be. When I pout the world stops to fix what's wrong...sometimes. My
daddy does anyway. I have great teeth, since my dad's a dentist; I was
born with a silver toothbrush in my mouth. That's one of his jokes and
I know, it isn't all that funny.

    My boobs are great! I was so happy when they started growing and
then they got big, you know, B cups like overnight when I was
fourteen, and so when they stopped growing, I was seriously relieved.
See, in junior high school, big is good, but too big? That's not good.
People look at you funny, so for me 32B cups are awesome, and they're
firm and nice and I love my boobs. Lots of people do and my butt too.
I have a nice round one, not huge like some girls I know, but it's
firm and pert and I like to show it off.

    Cause I got the devil inside me, remember? Probably that's why I'm
so hot...sorry.

    Anyway, I was dressed for showing off on this day. I was looking
for a man like Harold, truthfully, and so I'd dressed for it. I wore a
nice sweater, a peach colored one because it really looks nice with my
brown skin. A pleated skirt, short so it showed off my long legs which
are really toned from cheerleading, even though I'm just on the junior
pep squad this year. Some ankle socks and little boots. I like boots
more than shoes, and they're cute with leather straps and one inch
heels. My parents won't let me get any real high heels or anything and
even an inch is kind of daring so far as Daddy is concerned.

    I looked really good and a lot of guys were checking me out as I
walked around. None of them knew I was fifteen cause this mall is like
on the other side of town, and Minneapolis is a big town, so these
were like White Bear Lake people and ohhh...We hated their high school.
They always had good teams. Anyway, so guys are checking me out, black
guys especially cause I'm a sister, you know a 'phreaky eaky sistah',
and I don't play that game. I live in Eden Prairie, the closest we get
to talking like that is playing GTA on Xbox, you know? But the guys
love talking smack and it's kind of sad that our racial identity has
migrated away from the visceral literacy of Dr. King to gangsta rap
and MTV.

    So I ignore the black guys totally, they just don't attract me at
all. I'm fine, I'm hot, I'm all that and a stack of twenties, whatever
that means. I ignore it and tease the white boys. That gets my motor
running, seeing those white high school boys and preppie college guys,
all blonde and blue and handsome and white...My little fifteen year old
pussy is dripping, I swear to the Blessed Virgin. I love white boys.
And their dads! I see a hot kid, like sixteen, walking towards the
sporting goods store or something with his dad, the two of them
looking alike and talking and ouch! I just want them to take me home!

    That's my one fantasy, my jilling off in my bed at night fantasy,
being in a sandwich between some white boy and his dad. Being their
little black fuck toy, letting dad show his son how it's done, junior!
Sinking his big white cock inside my tight little pussy, sucking my
ripe titties until I'm screaming. Then the boy takes his cock, long
and hard and virgin, this boy never had a girl in his life, he takes
his cock and pushes it inside my mouth, shutting me up good, while his
dad fucks the daylights out of me. He's going to cum inside me too,
send my black teenage ass home with a white baby growing in my belly.
That...Oh boy! That one gets me off.

    So that's what I'm doing at the mall, checking out the white boys
and looking for a man to make me special. Not just that though, and it
brings me back to Harold: I want to make him special. That's what I
really want more than anything. I want to take a white man and show
him how a real woman treats her husband. I want to show his ugly white
bitch of a wife how a black girl, just fifteen years old, can be the
real wife her husband deserves. I want to teach the slut a lesson and
see her on her knees learning it.

    A white woman, a wife like Harold's, and this is just my opinion,
ought to be punished for her behavior. That means not just watching
her husband make real love with a beautiful young black girl like me,
but being forced to service the two of us. I want the wife right
there, ready to do whatever it takes to show how worthless she really
is. Whether it's sucking the sweat off her husband's balls while he
fucks me, or sucking his cum out of my pussy when were done, or maybe
serving us breakfast in bed after a long hard night of interracial
loving, I want that bitch in her place.

    Like that one in Payless. She doesn't deserve Harold and she's got
no right treating him that way, especially not in public. A white
woman like her, a housewife who owes her happiness to the man she
married, well...She ought to be taking better care of herself for one
thing. For another, she ought to be shopping for his pleasure, don't
you think? When I get married, I want my man to tell me what kind of
shoes he likes on my feet. What kind of dress he wants me to wear.
What kind of underwear to buy. I want a husband who's going to dress
me the way he likes, whether it's prim and proper modest or super
slutty sexy, or a little bit of both. I want him happy and in charge.

    Harold could be that sort of man, I was sure of it. Any man could
be, so long as he had a woman to support him and not beat him into the
ground with her selfish ways and greedy intentions. I guarantee all it
took was a couple mean words, maybe some cruel comment in front of a
friend or a group of strangers, to humiliate her husband. Harold,
having a big heart and a loving disposition didn't make a fuss, and
that just urged the woman on. That was Harold's fault, he needed to
put a stop to it and take that white slut over his knee but good. A
woman isn't ever too old for a spanking according to the pastor, so
long as she's a wife or daughter, or even a little sister maybe,
depending on circumstances, and I agree with that a hundred percent.

    So does my mom and dad and they've been happily married twenty-two
years now. My mom gets her spankings and she thanks my daddy
afterwards, just like I do, and my sisters too. He's just doing what
he's supposed to, fulfilling an obligation that comes with being a
man. Me, being hard headed like I am though, well my daddy has to
spank me a lot and if he knew I was cruising the mall for white guys,
he'd whip me good. My parents think I'm a virgin, but I've been
fucking since I was old enough to figure out how to do it. Since
before I got my first period even, and it's always been with white
boys cause my devil loves that hard white cock. She's particular that
way.

    "Oh, Harold, stop your whining! Can't you see I'm busy?" the woman
was saying. "I swear! I can't take you anyplace!" She looked down at
the shoeboy, who looked all of seventeen as he was putting her foot in
some God awful brown box of a shoe. "I don't know why I married him!"

    The boy had the common courtesy not to say anything, although I
didn't care much for his laughter. Harold certainly didn't deserve
that. He was a customer too and I had half a mind to complain to the
manager.

    "Hi," I said, standing close to Harold and holding a pair of shoes
that I thought looked nice. They were some open toed pumps in red with
one inch heels, so I could actually buy them if I wanted too.

    "Uh..." Harold blinked at me and so did his wife, and the boy at her
feet who actually drooled a little as he looked up at me. I thought
that was rather gross, but I wasn't paying him much mind anyway.

    "I need a pair of shoes for the upcoming homecoming dance..." I
started saying.

    "Ummm..." Harold said.

"...and I think these might be okay," I explained. "But I sorta want a
man's opinion before I buy them."

    "Oh." Harold nodded and he looked from my face to my shoes, which
I held just below my breasts in that tight peach colored sweater, and
then he looked slowly back up. His eyes were hazel and I smiled into
them.

    "So, um...what do you think?" I asked. "Should I try them on for
you?"

    "What are you asking him for?" Harold's wife looked at me like I
was crazy. "He doesn't work here!"

    "Because he's a man," I said, staring into Harold's eyes and they
were so pretty, "and I need a man's opinion."

    That straightened Harold up, just a little, but it was noticeable.
His shoulders came up and his chin too, and a tiny smile crossed his
lips. He was like a puppy dog that had been kicked too often, it
seemed to me. Not that I'd ever call a man like Harold a dog, not at
all, it was just that sort of feeling I got. A man like that just
needs a little attention, a little honesty, that's all.

    "I'm Stacy," I told him and I dropped my eyes, just a little
because a proper girl should be shy and modest when she introduces
herself to a man.

    "Hmmm..." Harold cleared his throat. "Hi, Stacy."

    "Look, first off, don't you go asking Harold what kind of shoes
you ought to buy," his wife just wouldn't shut up. "He hasn't got any
fashion sense at all..."

    "I'm wearing a red dress for the dance, so I think I need red
shoes," I spoke over the top of the woman, not loudly, but Harold
could hear me just fine. "What do you think?"

    "...and second of all, he's my husband and he doesn't need to be
talking to likes of you!"

    "Dear..." Harold flushed pink at his wife's outburst and it was
embarrassing for all of us, even the drooling shoe boy as he groveled
for a peek at my panties.

    "Don't you 'dear' me, Harold! Shame on you! Talking to a girl like...
like...like that!" the woman scolded the poor man and if that had been
my mother talking like that to my father, she wouldn't have sat down
for a week afterwards!

    "A girl like what?" I asked her, narrowing my eyes. "A young girl?
A pretty girl? A friendly girl? Exactly what kind of girl am I? A...
black girl?"

    "What? No...I didn't say that!" White people were so predictable. "I
only mean..."

    "What's wrong with her?" a woman interrupted, a white woman mind
you, but one who clearly had better manners than Harold's wife.

    "Huh?" Harold's wife looked around.

    "She was only asking for the man's opinion," the woman said, and
then she turned to me. "I think those are lovely shoes."

    "Thank you, ma'am," I smiled at her.

    "It's people like you who give us all a bad name," the friendly
woman scolded Harold's wife and I wasn't exactly sure who 'us all'
were, but it didn't matter.

    "I didn't mean because she's black!" Harold's wife protested, but
other people were looking at her and whispering and shaking their
heads.

    "I'll try them on for you, okay?" I smiled at Harold and ignored
his wife.

    "Sure, that would be, uh, very nice," he nodded, sitting even a
little straighter now in his chair.

    "Harold!" his wife protested, but he was ignoring her too, mostly
because I was sitting on the carpet at Harold's feet with my legs
drawn up close to my butt so I could change shoes.

    I knew he was getting a nice deep look up my toned, brown thighs,
probably all the way up to my white lace panties, and they'd be hard
to miss the way I was spreading my legs. I shouldn't have been doing
that, I know, but it wasn't a real sin because I wasn't married, not
yet and not like Harold's wife who was flashing her panties at
strangers right in front of her husband. If Harold was my husband I'd
never do that, not in a hundred million years. Unless he wanted me to.

    I put those red shoes on, smiling up at Harold while his wife
sputtered and moaned and simply made herself look like even more of a
bitch than she already had. Everyone knew she was a racist now, which
she maybe was or maybe wasn't, it didn't really matter. Harold wasn't.
He liked me just fine and he wouldn't have cared if I was turquoise
the way he was smiling. I was the prettiest girl he'd seen in a long
while, maybe ever, and getting all my attention the way Harold was,
made him a little forgetful of everything else.

    "There!" I wiggled my eyebrows at him and stood up slowly,
standing there in those cute red shoes, smoothing my pleated skirt.
"What do you think?"

    I walked around a little for him, turning this way and that,
walking away so he could see how they fit me from behind and then
towards him, so Harold could see them from the front. I even wiggled
my toes for him, which are cute and brown and painted pink because I
like pink toenails. My fingernails are red mostly, but sometimes
they're pink too. That day they were red though.

    "Those are very nice shoes, Stacy," Harold decided. "I think
they're perfect for you."

    "Really?" I smiled at him, my very best smile, and took a deep
breath, pulling my shoulders back just because I felt a little swollen
with pride right about then.

    "Oh yes." Harold swallowed hard and I knew he could appreciate a
young woman's pride just fine. It made my nipples itch the way he
seemed to look right through my sweater and even my bra, like he was
imagining my hard black nipples just waiting to be kissed and licked
and nibbled by a nice white man like himself.

    "Harold," his wife warned him and she was standing up by this
time, literally grabbing the man by the collar. "We're leaving."

    "Hey, um, can I ask you something kind of...personal?" I asked
Harold as he was pulled reluctantly to his feet by his wife.

    "Personal?" Harold tilted his head a little.

    "Personal?" the woman stared at me and she looked ready to say
something stupid again.

    "Uh-Huh," I nodded, holding my old shoes behind my back and
twisting on my hips slowly.

    "Sure. I guess so," Harold glanced at his wife and she was too
busy frowning at me to notice.

    "Would you like to take me home?" I asked Harold and he stared at
me for a long second and then two.

    "Do you need a ride?" Harold finally said. "Where do you live?"

    "Harold!" His wife wasn't happy with that answer at all. "We're
not giving some strange girl a ride anyplace!"

    "Not my home," I giggled playfully. "I mean your home!"

    My daddy would have a fit if I took a ride from a stranger, even a
nice stranger like Harold. He'd really throw a fit if I brought a
white man to our house, not to mention a white bitch like Harold's
wife. Not because my dad doesn't like white people, all his friends
are white, I mean they're all dentists and partners and friends and
patients, you know, but they're all white too. It's just that bringing
a white man home from the mall so I could have sex with him, well, I
think any fifteen year old girl's daddy would have a little problem
with that, don't you? It would be way better to fuck him at his house.

    "What?" Harold asked and it sounded like he'd swallowed a frog.

    "What did you say?" Harold's wife was like a bad echo. "Why you
little black whore! You little nigger slut..."

    "Oops!" I made a face at that, since the only one who can call a
black person a nigger is another black person, or Eminem maybe.
Harold's wife definitely didn't qualify on either count and now she
was in trouble.

    "Excuse me?" A black woman, a large Oprah-off-her-diet black
woman, was just looking for trouble like that.

    "We better go," I said softly to Harold and I kicked off those red
shoes, leaving them where they lay as I took his hand in mine.

    "But...my wife..." He was looking over his shoulder as Oprah was
putting a big brown sausage finger in Mrs. Harold's face and reading
her all sixteen chapters of the riot act.

    "She can take care of herself..." I smiled at him, walking quickly
in my bare feet and pulling Harold along behind me. "That's what I
like about you."

    "Uh...what?" Harold was actually smiling, now that we were away from
his wife and half running through the mall. It was fun.

    "Your big heart," I giggled. "Worrying about your wife all the
time. I like that in a man."

    "Oh...Uh...Yeah..." He kinda shrugged, but it was hard cause we were
going quick and laughing. "Thanks."

    "Where's your car parked at?" I asked and Harold looked like he
was losing a year with every step.

    I swear, he was giggling with me and his face lost some of the
wrinkles that shouldn't have been there in the first place, he got
some healthy color in his cheeks, and his chest seemed to swell with
manly pride. I could feel his strength growing in his grip as he held
my hand. It really is a thing to see when a man suddenly remembers
that he's a man. It was making me horny as hell, that's for sure! My
devil inside was putting on her dancin' shoes!

    "Uh...That way!" he grinned and pointed and off we went, like
Dorothy and one of the Wizard of Oz guys, the Tin Man maybe, since
Harold's heart was so darn big.

    I'd left my ruby slippers at the store, but I wasn't going home
yet anyway. The yellow brick road we were on was leading straight to
Harold's bedroom and the Great and Powerful Oz was going to make us
real happy. I could feel it. All we had to do was take care of the
wicked witch, and we didn't even have to drop a house on her or melt
her, or anything. All we had to do was make her see reason, and how
hard could that be?


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


    "How old are you?" Harold asked me once we were in his car and
driving.

    "How old do you want me to be?" I laughed and reached over to rub
his thigh.

    "Uh...Eighteen," he nodded. "That would make me feel a lot better, I
think."

    "But is that what you want?" I teased him, sliding my hand back
and forth on his leg.

    "I want you to be you," Harold decided and he gave me a look, a
real honest one so I'd know he was telling me the truth. "I've never..."

    I smiled and waited.

    "I've never met anyone like you," he said and that probably summed
up a lot of things he might have wanted to say.

    "Thank you, Harold," I smiled and gave him a gentle squeeze.
"You're so nice."

    "My wife is going to kill me when she gets home," Harold suddenly
lost his smile.

    "No she won't," I shook my head and sighed with satisfaction.
"You're a man, Harold, a real man. She's not your mom, she's just a
spoiled bitch."

    "Oh, God..." Harold chuckled. "You don't know my wife, Stacy."

    "I know the Bible," I said. "I know in the Book of Ephesians it
says, '...women submit yourselves unto your husbands, as unto the Lord.'
and that means she oughta be on her knees."

    "You think so?" Harold looked at me like I was teasing him.

    "I'll prove it to you," I promised. "I want to be your wife, your
pretend wife for the rest of the night, okay? Let me show you how a
husband should be treated...Uh...Watch out."

    "You...Oh shit!" he almost went into the ditch and the car jerked
hard as he focused on the road. "...Sorry...You mean that?"

    "Of course I do!" I gave him a little pout, not my real one.
Harold wasn't ready for that yet. "I'd never, ever lie to my husband!"

    "Oh." He swallowed thickly and I was still rubbing his thigh,
except I was more towards his cock which was a nice firm lump in his
trousers, even after almost crashing the way we had.

    "And I'm the kind of wife who'll do anything for my husband," I
told him seriously. "Anything at all. You don't even have to ask for
most of it, probably."

    "Really? Uh..." Harold looked a little confused.

    I slipped out of the shoulder belt and leaned over carefully, not
wanting to distract the man too much, but I just had to get a peek of
my new husband's cock. More than a peek really, cause my mouth was
watering almost as badly as my pussy was dripping. I was wet for it at
both ends and I just knew Harold was going to have a nice one for me.

    "Oh...Jesus..." Harold moaned as I finally freed his penis, which was
a nice one just like I predicted. Not huge, but definitely respectable
and large enough for my little black pussy, that was for sure! My new
husband was going to stretch me good and I couldn't wait to feel it!

    "Mmmm..." I sighed, taking the swollen head into my mouth, wrapping
my soft lips around the white shaft and washing Harold's cockhead with
my tongue.

    "Stacy...Oh my God..." Harold was practically bouncing in his seat and
I pulled my mouth off his cock with a soft wet plopping sound.

    "You act like you never had a blowjob before," I giggled, stroking
his thick cock with my small hands slowly. Both hands.

    "I...I haven't...I've never had one..." Harold looked like he was
embarrassed by that, as some men are, but I don't know why. There's
always a first time for everything, but really, his wife should have
been sucking Harold's cock every day, don't you think?

    "Well, you won't be able to say that for very much longer!" I
grinned and put my face back in Harold's lap.

    I love sucking cock, I really do. I love it almost as much as
fucking. It was sort of awkward doing it in Harold's car like that as
he was driving down the road, but that was okay. I wanted to make him
last awhile anyways. I could tell he was ready to cum just about as
soon as he felt my warm wet mouth around his cock and I wondered how
long it had been since Harold had any kind of sex. Probably too long,
since his wife didn't strike me as being very diligent when it came to
taking care of her husband's needs. Everyone knows a man needs to have
at least two healthy orgasms a day, maybe three if he's still
reasonably young like Harold was, and four wouldn't be pushing it at
all. Not if one of them was just for fun, in the car like this.

    "You can talk dirty to me, if you want," I said, pulling my mouth
off Harold's cock because he was getting close again and I had to let
him simmer down.

    "Talk dirty?" Harold swallowed hard.

    "Uh-huh," I licked my lips and swallowed Harold's precum and spit
while he looked at me. "You can say anything you want, I won't mind...In
fact..." I gave his cock a gentle squeeze. "I'll like it a lot if you're
really nasty."

    "Jesus, Stacy," he looked back at the road and I knew he'd never
talked dirty to a girl in his life.

    "Tell me you want me to suck your cock," I urged Harold softly.

    "Oh yeah, suck...Suck my cock..."

    "Tell me to get my lips around your big hard cock," I breathed.

    "Uh..."

    "It's okay," I promised.

    "Get your lips on my cock...bitch..." he said tentatively and I
giggled.

    "Ohhh..." I giggled. "I like the sound of that! Do you want to cum
in my slutty mouth?"

    "Yeah...I want to cum in your mouth and...and...I want you to swallow
it..."

    "Like the little cock slut I am?" I prompted with a smile and
Harold nodded.

"Eat my cum, you little whore," Harold gasped and he was blushing and
I knew he'd never imagined himself saying words like that in his life.

    "I'm your little black whore, Harold," I agreed happily. "Your
slutty bitch of a wife...You're my husband now, so you can make me do
anything you want."

    I dropped my mouth back down on Harold's raging cock, sucking him
hard and eager to bring him off now. He deserved a good orgasm and I
wanted it in my mouth as much as he did. I wanted to taste his sweet
salty sperm running thick and hot over my tongue. I'd swallow it too,
every drop. But only after I showed it to him. I loved sucking off
white guys, it was like taking a big bite out of the forbidden fruit
and when I was with a white man I knew exactly what Eve was feeling
when she'd done it. The serpent was in my belly, making me feel all
tingly and buttery wet down between my thighs. I was getting off
sucking Harold's cock and I couldn't wait to fuck his brains out.

    Harold put a hand on my head, holding me there gently as I bobbed
up and down on his meaty dick. He was hard as a rock and just big
enough that I really had to fight to get that last inch inside my
mouth, swallowing around him so Harold's cockhead would enter my
throat and that was really good for both of us. A little too good
maybe as Harold suddenly went stiff as a board and then I heard the
unmistakable whooping of a police siren from behind us.

    "Oh no..." Harold moaned. "Stacy...Oh shit...Stacy..."

    He wanted me to sit up, I knew, so he could zip up his pants and
pretend like nothing was going on, but it was too late for that.
Harold was close to cumming and I was aching to taste it, so it was
like a little race to see if I could bring him off before the cop
started rapping on Harold's window. It was one of those little lessons
Harold needed to learn: A man has a right to get a decent blowjob on
his way home from the mall. Of course I was pretty seriously wound up
on sex, so my better judgment wasn't really with me and I could have
been wrong about that.

    Either way, I wasn't going to stop sucking Harold's cock until he
gave me some sperm, cop or no cop.

    Luckily Harold was really close to cumming anyway, and being
pulled over was a serious rush. All that fear just adding more
adrenaline to the situation, the idea of being caught with a young
black girl giving him head. Harold didn't know how old I really was
either and if he'd known I was just fifteen I seriously doubt he would
have let me do anything with him, he was that sort of guy, but I'd
kind of lied, almost, as I hadn't said one way or the other how old I
was. If the cop found out...Ohhh, that would be bad for Harold. Like ten
to fifteen years of bad luck, you know?

    That devil inside can be a real bitch sometimes.

    "Ohhh...Oh God...Stacy!" Harold gave up trying to pry my sucking mouth
from his cock and as soon as the sound of the cop rapping on the
window filled our ears, he was cumming.

    "Mmmphhh..." I swallowed quickly, feeling that warm man cream
filling my mouth and then sliding down my throat into my tummy.

    Harold was cumming a lot, his cock pulsing with rapid spurts and
his semen quickly overflowed my too small mouth. It spilled out the
corners of my mouth, running down my chin and staining Harold's
trousers. He still had a hand on my head and the cop was rapping some
more, but maybe he understood that Harold was a little indisposed for
the moment. I hoped so anyway and it wasn't but half a minute or so
before Harold had spent most of his load down my throat.

    I lifted my head, looking past Harold at the cop, who was a middle
aged white guy, a Hennepin County Sheriff's Deputy and really, really
fine. Men in uniform are so totally hot! He was white, yeah, which was
why I gave him such a warm spermy smile while I licked my teeth and
lips, gathering Harold's semen on my tongue so I could swallow it. The
cop was staring at me, I knew that, even though he was wearing some
very dark sunglasses.

    Harold rolled down his window.

    "You were driving erratically sir, uh I need to see your license
and registration and proof of insurance, please," the cop said in a
deep professional voice and I was impressed.

    "E-Erratically? Oh!" Harold was fumbling with his penis, trying to
put it away.

    "How old are you, miss?" the cop looked at me, well, he never took
his eyes off me.

    "Me?" I giggled. "How old do I need to be?"

    "This isn't a game," the deputy frowned. "Performing fellatio on
the operator of a moving vehicle is a misdemeanor in this county."

    "I'm sorry," I tried to look contrite. "My husband just really
needed a blowjob."

    "Your...husband?" the cop asked, blinking at me.

    "Hu-Husband?" Harold swallowed hard and I had my hand on his cock,
which was only mostly put away. It was soft now, wet and a little
gooey, but I was pretty sure I could fix all that as soon as I took
care of the cop.

    "We were just married today," I giggled. "You know how hard it is,
being newly weds and all."

    "Uh, no ma'am," the cop lied cause I could see his wedding ring.
"Let me see some identification please."

    "Ohhh...You're so tense!" It was my turn to frown. "Okay...Okay..."

    Harold was getting his papers together while I reached into my
purse. There wasn't any way I was going to show this cop my library
card. He was interested in me anyway, even though he was trying hard
to hide it. All white guys are hot for pretty young black girls,
everyone knows that! And this wasn't the first time I'd talked or
fucked my way out of trouble either. I pulled out one of my school
pictures, a little wallet sized one, and I had a few of them. Not for
any real reason, except I'd been trading with my friends at school and
had a few left over. It was perfect for this and I figured fate must
really love me!

    I found my pen too and wrote my celphone number on the back of the
card along with, 'Stacy, call me anytime!!' and I underlined 'anytime'
a whole bunch of times, you know. I handed the picture to the cop,
leaning across Harold and actually taking the opportunity to rub my
tits against him cause they needed a good rubbing right about then. My
nipples are always way too sensitive for my own good and I was wishing
I'd left my bra at home that day, but then my sweater would be itching
them like crazy, and...

    "You can keep my ID, officer," I smiled at the deputy, licking my
spermy lips with my little pinkish tongue and making sure he knew I
was dropping my eyes to the unmistakable bulge in his trousers.

    "Stacy!" Harold whispered, but not because he was jealous. He was
just really afraid of finding out I was fifteen and even more afraid
that the cop would find out. But he shouldn't have worried about a
little thing like that.

    "Alright miss, I think I can let you go with a warning." He
ignored the papers Harold was holding. In fact he was ignoring Harold
completely, fixing all of his attention on me as I was still leaning
across my husband. "But next time I catch you doing that..." he lowered
his voice, "...you're going to be seriously fucked, girl. Understand
me?"

    "Oh, yes sir!" I nodded seriously, but I couldn't hide the happy
cum-eating grin on my lips. "Just don't make me wait too long, okay?"

    "I won't," he promised, flicking my picture with his thumbnail.
"Thank you for your cooperation, sir. You and your...wife," he chuckled,
"...have a pleasant evening."

    "Oh! Y-Yes sir, um..." Harold was nodding quickly.

    "Ya'll drive safely now," the cop finished and he was walking away
and adjusting his trousers.

    "Thank you officer!" I scrunched up my nose and my fingers were
already working to get Harold's cock out of his pants again. "Now...
Where were we? Oh yeah! On our honeymoon!"

"Oh Jesus...!" Harold was practically shaking and I giggled and kissed
his cheek. White guys were so funny sometimes, but that's why I liked
to marry them!



The End

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