Donna is a 40 year old housewife, mother, and member of a secretarial pool. Thanks to the belittling her husband gives her about her plump/full figure - she feels more like 50, but time has been kind to her, as her face still has an early 30's look to it. Sex has been more of a chore (done once weekly) since her 2nd child was born and her only outlet for fun has been staring at men - recently men of color, and thinking what it would be like to be taken by one of them, against her will at first...and turned into an accepting partner in her new sex life....thus far that is just a middle age woman's fantasy.
She walked into the local Wal-Mart at 9pm. It was a cool night, but not cold. She had been hard at work painting her new house, and she looked quite worn. She was wearing a tight white t-shirt streaked with paint. Her tits sagged a bit under the strain of her heavy brown nipples. Her un-tucked t-shirt settled loosely over her soft round pillows of ass meat, which were hugged tightly by her faded black stretch pants. She looked like a jogger (albeit a dirty one) in her white running shoes and "work-out" style clothes. She collected a cart and pushed it towards the Home Care Center. She seemed singularly focused and was not paying much attention to anyone or anything in her surroundings. She could barely lift her aching feet after a long hard day of painting, feeding the kids, and making sure her husband had enough to eat as he sat on the couch and watched football.
He spotted her moving towards the Home Care Center as he checked out the newest HDTV's on display. His eyes traveled from her disheveled dark brown hair to her pale, yet pretty (in a plain sort of way) features. Her hair was pulled back into a disheveled ponytail which had been loosened by hours of hard work. She seemed to be about 35ish give or take a few years. Her back was straight and her brown nipples pressed against the flimsy fabric of her t-shirt as she walked past him.
He was 24 years old, and his athletic body crackled with the energy of youth. He had the lanky build of a basketball player standing slightly over 6 feet tall. He seemed to weigh about 190 and his skin was as dark as a cup of hazelnut coffee.
Arriving in the paint section, she pulled the scrunchie out of her hair. Shaking her head side to side, she allowed her medium length brown hair to settle on her shoulders. Sighing, she leaned forward without noticing she had garnered some attention, and began reading the prices for paint. Her boobs jiggled loosely under her t-shirt as she moved. She absent mindedly wiggled her bottom trying to dislodge her sweaty thong from her puckered anus. Unsuccessful in either freeing her thong or finding what she wanted, she stood up and pushed the cart further back into the Home Care Center, this time stopping in front of the Lights. Rather than bending over, she squatted at the knees to look at items on the lower shelf. Her stretch pants slid down a bit and revealed the top of her hot pink thong.
The man began walking in her direction. As he passed he gazed down at her pale back and her flimsy thong riding up into view. He averted his eyes and began to examine a row of backlights to her right. She self-consciously straightened up and their eyes met for the first time.
He smiled warmly and motioned to her paint streaked t-shirt... "Rough day huh?"
She nodded tiredly..."Painting my new home."
He glanced at her wedding band and conversationally leaned forward, eyes flitting between her ring and her face..."I bet you guys are tired of painting. I wish that my woman was a trooper like you obviously are."
Smiling ruefully she said, "I'm tired of painting, moving, packing, you name it. All he's done is sit on his lazy fat ass and watch football."
He laughed at her pained expression. "Hey football is a necessary evil. I bet he doesn't complain when you are watching House."
She laughed, "You're right. But he should help me while I work."
He stuck out his hand, "Well nice to meet you my name is G and yours?"
Not realizing that the young black man had been checking her out, she reached out and shook his huge hand, hers disappearing within his grasp, "I'm Donna."
"Well, I've got to get out of here, enjoy painting" G said.
She smiled and said goodbye and then made a face as she started to climb up on the bottom shelf. She stretched her arms out towards an outdoor lamp on the top shelf - her shirt slid up revealing a slightly padded stomach as she struggled.
He watched her exert herself for a split second and then easily reached up to the top shelf and handed her the light.
She flushed red and stammered a thank you, but he was already turning the corner. He disappeared from view leaving her standing awkwardly in the middle of the aisle holding her outdoor lamp.
Arriving home, Donna climbed the flight of stairs and entered the master bedroom. Collapsing on the bed from exhaustion, she exhaled deeply, "It's done."
Her husband James rolled over and kissed her. "What's done?"
"Shopping for the outdoor porch lights."
"How did you manage?" James asked her.
"Oh, a young man I met helped me. ", Donna replied as she started to remove her t-shirt.
"Wait a minute, some guy helped you shop? And you were dressed like that?" James pointed to her - standing in her flimsy stretch pants, and loose t-shirt.
"Oh for Christ sake Donna, you're as fat as a cow and you're going around dressed like some cheap trailer trash whore. Damn lucky he didn't offer you money to strip - oh wait, plenty of cows to look at around here for free."
Her face flared red with anger, "You fucking asshole"; she said as she stormed out of the room, slamming the door and heading back downstairs.
It took 30 minutes of alone time on the couch, before Donna was calm enough to turn on the TV. Flipping thru the stations, she came across what she thought was "Sex in the City". To her amazement as the couple rolling around in the bed came into the light, she found herself watching a white woman sit upright on the lap of a black man, his big dark hands covering her pale fleshy breasts. She couldn't hear what they were saying. Her eyes were glued to their bodies. He was caressing her pale white legs and kneading her plump scantily clad bottom.
For some reason she though of G from Wal-Mart. This thought was a fleeting one however, for at that moment the covers climbed up their writhing limbs and the fucking began. The woman's moaning and the filthy thoughts spewing from the black man's mouth became more then Donna could take. Her crotch had moistened triggering a tingly sensation that caused her to think she needed to piss... BADLY.
She rushed down the hall, entered the bathroom, and locked the door behind her. She slid down her stretch pants and pulled her sweaty thong to her knees. She sat on the toilet and began to push. As a slight trickle of piss parted her lips, she sighed still thinking of that huge black man fucking that white girl and whispering those filthy words in her ear. She could not get his voice out of her head..."Slut", "Cunt", "take this big ass dick Bitch". She noticed a clear glistening jelly in the crotch of her panties. She checked to see that the door was locked and then gingerly ran her middle finger thru the spot on her panties and brought it up to her nose. She hadn't showered yet, and a powerful musky odor permeated her nostrils. His voice still echoing in her mind, she slid the tip of her tongue out of her mouth towards her soiled finger and tasted the salty wetness. As her last drips of urine hit the bowl, she reached down and began to rub her clit slowly.
She thought about G, fantasizing that he had purposely been eyeing her body. She stretched her legs out, letting her battered thong slide down to her ankles and leaned back against the toilet. Using her right hand to rub her pussy and clit, she slipped her left hand under her t-shirt and began to massage her small fat breasts. This was the most aroused she had been in long time...and her body wanted - no, DEMANDED more. Looking around the bathroom, she spotted the brand new black rubber handled toilet plunger. It was still wrapped in plastic. She knew no one would be the wiser.
Without wiping herself off Donna kicked off her running shoes, stretch pants, and thong. Naked, except for her T-Shirt and a pair of white ankle socks, Donna ripped the plastic wrapping off of the black rubber handle. She spit in her hand and began to moisten the handle, but realizing it would not be wet enough she padded over to the cabinet and grabbed a half full bottle of baby oil. Splashing a generous amount on her hands, she began massaging the thick black handle until it was glistening with her saliva mixed with baby oil. Rubbing her pussy with the same solution, she positioned it in the middle of the bathroom, where she could watch herself in the big mirror.
She slowly lowered herself onto the plunger handle. She gasped as the plunger filled her cunt, slowly stretching her pinkish brown pussy lips apart. Staring into the mirror, she felt and watched as the plunger penetrated her womb deeply, feeling cold yet fulfilling. Turned on, she began to work herself up and down its black rough handle and shaft. Her tits and belly began to shake and jiggle as she slid into a pussy pounding rhythm. Within minutes, Donna closed her eyes and began to furiously rub her clit. In her mind she saw G grasping her hips and ramming his impossibly large member into her yelling "fuck this Big Ass Dick you cock slut bitch".
Donna could hear herself begging for his thick black tool, and impaled herself almost to the point of pain. Moments later, she let out a holler, as her hips and waist rocked and bucked -- twitching uncontrollably from the most explosive orgasm that she had experienced in quite some time. Pulling herself off the plunger handle, she staggered back to the toilet seat, plopped down on it, and rubbed her clit furiously, again thinking about her and G having sex. This helped lead her to several smaller, yet satisfying orgasms.
As the unassuming housewife came down from her orgasmic high, she looked up and saw the toilet plunger glistening with her oil, cum, and saliva. She turned red with embarrassment and disgust at the idea that she fucked a bathroom utensil - and worst, had cheated on her husband by imagining it was another man... a strange black man at that. Sitting on the toilet physically spent and mentally exhausted Donna began to sob.