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Message-ID: <63685asstr$1451391059@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: RavensDrkGothic@aol.com
Full-name: RavensDrkGothic
Subject: {ASSM} The Checkered Lounge 1
Lines: 268
Date: Tue, 29 Dec 2015 07:10:59 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


 
The Checkered Lounge 1
 
    Easing the large SUV down the dirty  snow lined street.  The wet snow 
making a slushing noise on the under  carriage of the vehicle.  Pulling into 
a spot alongside the the  establishment, shutting off the powerful engine 
and the soft voice of Diane  Krall filling the soft glowing interior.  
Flicking on an overhead light,  opening her purse and checking her face in the 
mirror.  Exaggerating the  eye shadow and liner and adding thick slashes of red 
lipstick.  So unlike  her normal routine.  Opening her long black coat.  
Undoing the top  button of her maroon cashmere sweater, then undoing another 
button and then  another.  One button the bottom one remaining hooked.  A 
swath of  white flesh exposed down the middle of her chest.  A Celtic cross 
dangling  where her narrow cleavage started.  Matching earrings.  Brushing at  
the heavy black wool skirt, cursing at seeing the white cat hairs clinging to 
 it.  Lifting the skirt and adjusting her black thigh highs, fingers  
reaching higher and feeling the warm of her thighs, shivering not from the cold;  
but from the touch of her finger against the fabric of her red thong.  Eyes 
 closing for a moment as the touch lingers.  Then opening her eyes and  
pulling a comb to brush her hair, feeling it statically.  Nodding at  herself 
as she looks into the mirror, her hazel eyes meeting the woman in the  
mirror. 
     Two deep breaths, as she slides  on her gloves  and carefully steps 
out of the Navigator.  Long  graceful legs, one then the other, carefully 
hitting the pavement with a click  of a heel each time.  Buttoning her coat 
against the wind and scattered  snowflakes of the early morning flurry.  
Grabbing her hand bag, The doors  locked, she moves with long measured strides, 
eyes watching the snow under her  feet.  Heeling clicking in a quick rhythm as 
she moves past the chain link  fence of the parking area and around to the 
old brickstore front.  Looking  up, seeing the checkerboard on the sign.  
Faded words  Checker Lounge  written across the black and white board in dark 
black lettering.  Oddly,  three chess pieces outlined underneath the wording. 
 A black king, a black  queen, and a much smaller white queen.  The tall 
woman, able to see easily  over the half curtains of the front windows.  The 
bar dimly lit, still  open; but at this time of the morning, best to know 
someone to gain  admittance. 
    Wrapping with her fingers on the  glass door, seeing the bar tender 
look up and then motion to someone near the  door.  A black man looked out, a 
grin coming to his face as he looked the  woman in the face and then let his 
eyes slide down her body.  Undoing the  double lock and holding the door 
open for her to step in, the door closing  behind the tall well to do white 
woman.  Her heels loud on the floor as she  crosses quickly to the bartender, 
neither looking left or right.  The few  patrons, looking up seeing the woman 
and then back to their own business.   The big older black man, nodding 
respectfully, "good morning, Miss Patrice,  didn't expect to see you here this 
morning." 
    "I was hoping to see Mark this  morning Willie.  I have an air flight 
to Wisconsin and needed a fix before  I went."  Undoing her coat and handing 
it over to Willie, who tucked it  behind the bar. Willie's eyes rolling in 
appreciation, seeing the bare flesh  from neck to almost navel. Smiling, with 
her red painted lips.  Her eyes  joining in the smile.  Willie the 
bartender was the uncle of  Mark.  Willie was a big muscular black man with a quick 
smile, that  belied the mean streak if you crossed him.  Patrice, covering 
his hand with  hers, feeling the strength in his fingers.  "Could I have a 
scotch?"   The man taking a tall water glass, filling it half full with 
Glenlievet and then  adding ice.  "He's over in the corner missy," pointing to a 
table with men  and women standing around it, others seated.  The cigar and 
cigarette and  other smoke a gray haze above there heads.
    Nervously, sipping then a gulp from  the glass, as she looks to the 
corner.  Now recognizing Mark.  A tall  dapper, completely bald black man, 
early late twenties, but cock sure of  himself,  "He has been drinking and 
losing Miss Patrice, so tread  easy."  Willie's words trailing behind as I walk 
across the floor to the  back corner.  My heels strident, as they move 
quickly to the table.   The patrons again looking up, a whistle from one of them.  
The white and  black women, noting Patrice, the men looking at her 
differently.  Even in  her conservative clothing, she looked sexual.  Walking up 
behind Mark, her  hand falling to touch her shoulder.  "What?  His question a 
brusque  word.  Not even looking up, just his hand reaching and tightening on 
her  fingers, squeezing hard.  Then looking up, seeing the tall white 
woman,  taking her hand and pulling her down to him.  His lips crushing hers in a 
 hard kiss, his other hand reaching to fondle her right breast.  The large, 
 long fingered hand reaching into the slit of the sweater, and pinching on 
the  already partially hard nipple, mauling the small breast.  "Bring me 
luck  baby."  Turning back to the game and the cards. 
    Standing alongside of the black man,  the woman looks around, seeing 
the various girl friends and wannabe girl friends  of the different men.  
Mostly white women and a couple of black  girls.  Some of them working girls, 
that will signal cards to Mark.   Her tongue brushing against her bruised 
lower lip, resting the cold glass  against it as she sips some of the strong 
single malt scotch.  Feeling  frustrated, hoping that Mark would be in the back 
office or upstairs, not on the  floor playing cards.  And looking at his 
pile of money.  Not having a  good night or should I say morning.  After a 
couple of hands, a short  break, Mark looks up. "What you dressed up for doll.  
You going someplace  girl."  His hand moving possessively to my ass, 
patting it with his hand,  then sliding down the back of my skirt to my knee.  
Fingers squeezing hard,  making the leg buckle, then his hand moving back up 
the thigh, under the wool  skirt,  "Open!"  Standing still looking around at 
the players and  spectators, now watching Mark and me.  Turning and looking 
up at me, "I  said open your legs bitch.  Are you fucking deaf, you nasty 
white  cunt."  Feeling my ears and face flush with color.  Eyes watering as I  
look around, hearing the laughter from the men and the women both.  Sliding  
my legs apart, feeling his long fingers reaching between my legs, cupping 
my  mound from underneath.  Mewling with need as his fingers touch my swollen 
 pubes.  Blushing again, one of the men calls out, "finger that white  ho."
    "Please Mark," begging in a soft  voice, "can we go upstairs."  The 
long black fingers, working at the small  piece of material of the thong, 
groaning as the material is pushed to the side,  and the first finger pushes into 
the wet slit.  "Ohhhhhh  ahhhhhhhhhhh."  Trying to maintain my balance and 
dignity as a second  finger push deep............eyes closing as I bend 
slightly forward, allowing  the fingers deeper access.  Those around the table 
watching, as his fingers  work deeper, my legs clenching on the fingers.  
Panting hard, biting my  lower lip.   body moving against the edge of the 
table, bending over  more.  His other hand, reaching and undoing the last button 
of the  sweater.  The sides falling open displaying the small firm breasts.  
 The almost inch long nipples dark and hard, the flush of red around the  
breasts.  Breath whistling through almost closed lips, my body responding,  
my one hand gripping the table edge, the other reaching to my sweater, 
pulling  the sides together.  Moaning weakly,   "Please, Mark, please  baby, not 
here, not in front of everyone."  my body clenching as I disclaim  my 
immediate need.  His hand reaching up cruelly, pulling my hand from my  sweater, 
turning me and slapping hard across my breasts.  Screaming in pain  from the 
half blows on the aching nipples
then grabbing one nipple, pulling me down as he sits back in  his 
chair..........his eyes holding mine, then his hand swinging quickly across  my 
cheek.  My face exploding with pain.  Head snapping to the side and  as I turn it 
back, the back hand striking my other cheek.  Tears welling in  my eyes.  
My breathing labored as I look into his cruel eyes, his hard  face.
    "Do not ever tell me what to do  bitch,"his hand slapping my face again 
and again.  The pain unending as it  spreads and then another explosion.  
The whole room silent, the whole bar  silent.  Feeling my thong pulled from 
my body as I stagger backwards, his  fingers bruising my cunt lips as they 
are pulled free.  His hand reaching  and grabbing my sweater, pulling me back 
to the table. 
    "You want something you white piece  of trash, it is right here, come 
get it."  Reaching to cup her crotch as he  pulls his chair back from the 
table.  Looking with dazed eyes, at the faces  around me.  Not seeing any 
sympathy.  Then as I look at the cruel hard  face, I slide to the floor.  My 
knees hitting it hard.  Walking on  them over to his chair, hearing the 
snickering behind me.  Grasping his  knees with my hands and holding them wide as I 
kneel cradled between his  legs.  Looking at him, reaching out with one 
hand.  His hand slapping  my face  again, then working on my breasts.  Moaning 
as I feel the  hard slaps, the fingers roughly caressing the sensitive nerve 
endings.  My  body quivering as the slaps continue, legs clenching, 
squeezing my fat lips  together.  Feeling myself sticky between my legs.  My face 
aching,  swollen and burning.
    And then as quick as the blows  started they stopped.  His fingers 
becoming tender, barely touching the  bruised cheeks, soothing the reddened 
breasts.  "Come here girl, daddy has  something for you."  Mewling I slide 
forward, my head pushed against his  crotch.  Feeling the hardness beneath, 
kissing the shaft through his  pants.  Fingers tracing the outline.  Then getting 
up the courage to  reach for the buttons on his fly.  Undoing them, 
exposing the black stain  boxers, Seeing the wet stain near the waistband, the 
outline of his cock  head.  Frantically fingers reaching for the fly opening,  
Fumbling as  I free the long ebony shaft.  Glistening as the light strikes 
it, the fat  mushroom head, the spot of moisture at the pee hole.  Whimpering 
as my lips  wet themselves.  My heart pounding as I touch my tongue tip to 
the velvety  cap.  Swirling it slowly around the fat head.  Tongue dipping 
for more  saliva.  Dripping it on the long black shaft.  Not caring at those  
around me. Those watching, laughing at the white woman.  Not caring  what 
they think.  Bruised lips opening, aching as I lower my mouth to  encompass 
the thick black glan. 
    Feeling his strong hand on the back  of my head, pushing down, 
swallowing and gagging as the long cyclinder of dark  meat, fills my mouth and 
cheeks, the tip brushing against my throat.   Shifting on my knees, feeling the 
moisture at my juncture.  Bobbing slowly  up and down the long thick shaft.  
Tongue laving the molded surface,  feeling the long veins, tracing them.  
Cheeks sucking in and out, feeling  drool on my chin falling to soak my wool 
skirt.  His grip like steel,  directing my face to his crotch, feeling the 
coarse hair rubbing on my sore  flesh.  The musk of his scent and urine in my 
nose.  His hand pulling  my hair back as I ride the shaft to the mushroom 
head.  Then pushed down  hard again.  Mark, fucking my face with his cock, 
moving me like a puppet  along the girth of his long black cock.  My hand 
sliding in front of my  mouth on the shaft.  The texture so velvety.  So. 
defined.  My  other hand reaching down to lift my skirt, touching my wet lips,  
searching  the folds and rubbing my pearl, my swollen clit.  My chest pumping 
as I  suck and fight for air with each plunge of my head to his lap.  Then  
feeling the head swell again. 
    "Fuck" Loud from Mark, to let those  know that he was going to spill 
his seed in his white whores mouth.  The  thick wads of cum, blasting against 
my throat, scalding it and then swallowing  for air as the cock pull back a 
little.  Another thick blast of cum then  another.  His hand holding my head 
hard, his body lifting from the chair a  couple of inches as he let go 
another blast of hot seed.  "Damn girl, you  sucking me dry."  The laughter of 
the crowd mixed with the roaring in my  ears from my pain.  My chest rising 
and falling rapidly, moaning on the  thick cock, swollen lips stretched 
grotesquely aharound it.
    Then feeling myself pulled off the  cock and pushed back sprawling 
unladylike on the floor.  "Get up bitch, I  want your nasty whore ass on the 
table.  I am going to give you what you  came crawling here for?"  Hearing the 
words, another round of laughter from  the crowd.  Pushing myself from the 
floor, my mouth and tongue working  feeling the cum on my lips and thick in 
my mouth and the pain of my swollen  face, now a dull ache.  Looking into his 
eyes, "Get up there cunt"   Scrambling to push my ass onto the table, 
sitting there as he stands up.   His hands squeezing my thighs hards as he pushes 
them apart.  Pulling  roughly on the cashmere sweather, pushing it down 
from my shoulders, exposing my  upper body.
 
His hamlike hands, pulling the legs  wide.  One hand reaching between, 
fingers pinching hard on the engorged  pearl.  Screaming with pain and then 
again as he presses the fingers  tighter together.  Body jerking, as I reach 
down to pull at his hand.   Rewarded with a hard slap to my exposed reddened 
and bruising breasts.   Feeling the small mound and the the nipples being hit. 
 Pain and pleasure  mixing as my body slams back to the table.  Head 
banging on the solid  wood.  Pinpoints of light flashing in my open staring eyes.  
The  clearing to see a circle of face looking down at me.  Tears running 
down my  swollen cheeks, soothing them for a moment.
    Then screaming as he lunges  forward,  his long hard cock sinking deep, 
buried in my sloppy cunt.  His hands  pulling my body to him as his finger 
dig cruelly into the soft tissue of my  thighs.  Squeezing as he push the 
legs wide, long legs reaching for the  smokey gray ceiling.  Feeling his hard 
shaft pounding the soft yielding  meat of his cunt.  "You are some loose 
sloppy cunt.  Squeeze my cock  you white pig cunt."  Clenching around the hard 
cylinder, feeling it  pushing my vagina open as it powers down my tunnel.  
The thick black meat,  taking the hole filling it and stretching it wide.  
The spongy glan beating  on the opening to my  womb.  Panting in hard gasps as 
I try to push  back, try to fuck the ravaging cock.  Hearing the raucous 
comments and  laughter around me.  Feeling the pile driver bruising my cunt.   
Tenderizing the soft tissue of my labia. 
    Loud grunts as Mark fucks, his frustrations  into my needy white pussy. 
 Feeling the cards and money under my ass as I  slide back and forth on the 
table.  One deep plunge after another, filling  then drawing back.  "Going 
to get my nuts off you stupid white   bitch.  Going to breed your lilly 
white cunt, with my fucking black  seed. That's what you want whore isn't it."  
His cock fucking hard  against the slack pussy lips.  Again and again, his 
hand making a wishbone  of the long legs in the air.  Trying to clench on the 
thick shaft, wanting  to wrap my legs around his waist and pull him 
tighter, unable to as my hands,  fingers pull at my hard nipples, scratching them 
with the frantic movement of my  nails.  A long keen of pleasure and pain 
escaping my tight  lips.   Thighs straining and my body trembling as it shakes 
with and  orgam.  Feeling the flush of heat on my chest, the moisture 
leaking on my  thighs, soothing and wetting them with my juices.  "Fuck me Mark, 
fuck your  white cunt whore.  Fuck me hard."  Screaming loudly as a more 
instense  orgasm wracks the buised flesh, my core heaving with sensation.  
Shaking  uncontrollably, cunt leaking all over the table.
    Then thrashing wildly as he pushes hard,  his coarse hair grinding into 
the soft white flesh, as his cock swells and  discharges hot scads of black 
see deep in my cunt.  Coating the walls the  entrance to my womb and 
pushing fertile seed deep in search of a white girl  egg.  Long hard thrust as his 
grunts become animalistic.  Pulling  free, his cock still leaking, wiping 
the head on my left thigh.  Looking  around and wiggling a finger at a black 
girl.  "Come with me sista, we  going to fuck the night away."  Laughing as 
he looks down at me, seeing the  humiliation as he takes the black girls 
arm, leaving the black cock white girl  laying sprawled on the table, A puddle 
of black cum, forming at the juncture of  her legs. 
    Turning back one more time to the people at  the table, "you want a 
quickie, you can have that white ho."  Laughing  loudly as he clumped up the 
stairs.
    Feeling the cool towel, wiping between my  thighs, my eyes opening, see 
Willie wiping the cum from my slack cunt.   Trying to remember the last 
hour or was it more.  Seeing daylight threw the  windows.  my whole body 
aching, wincing as I sit up.  "I am so sorry  for you Miss Patrice."
Willie's words the final piece in the long fuck session.   Looking down at 
my body, coated with still wet and crusted strands of cum.   Seeing the 
mottled color of my breasts and thighs.  The marks of fingers on  the inside 
where Mark squeezed the delicate flesh.  The wool skirted coated  with cum.  
Sitting weakly on the edge of the table, as Willie, worked an  ice filled 
table against my bruised face.  Knowing by the clock over the  bar, that I 
missed the flight,  My clothing ruined, as I drew it close  around me.  Walking 
in pain to the bar, as Willie hands me my hand  bag.  "Bye Missy, see you 
soon."
    Waving to Willie as I pushed the door open  and walking awkwardly in 
the morning slush.  Knowing that Willie was  right.  I would be back here 
soon.  Staggering to the SUV, afraid to  look at my face in the mirror, 
wondering if I should go home, get a hotel room,  book another flight or go to the 
Emergency Room.  Knowing the last choice  was very unlikely.

 
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