Desperately Seeking Blaine

"Where are you?" the voice on the other end of the phone asked in that voice and was so soothing yet so persuasive, like a teenage Barry White who reeked of self-confidence.

"New Canaan," I said nervously, not believing that I had driven almost 4 hours this morning to get where I was now, on the shoulder of a highway just over the New York border in Connecticut.

"Getting close, Marie," Blaine said. "Write this down."

I scribbled obediently as Blaine gave me directions, and after he asked whether I got it all down or not, the phone went dead. Looking at what I had written, I realized that I still had a bit of driving to do.

That would give me plenty of time to change my mind. Turn around. No big deal. It was a nice fall day and had been a nice drive, so all I had to do was turn around and go back home.

Go back home, Marie, I told myself. Go back to where you belonged. Go home instead of following the whims of some guy less than half your age, you silly old fool. Driving all this way just to meet a guy who might not even exist, or if he did would probably not be anything like I had fantasized about.

I drove on, following the instructions until I found myself on a very urban street in a very run-down part of the city. It looked scary even from the safety of my car, and when I saw the bar that I was to meet Blaine at, I cringed.

Old beer signs were barely visible through the grimy windows in the front of the Crystal Palace, which was nothing like the name implied. It looked more like a building waiting to be condemned, with wire screens on all of the glass in front and a large sign that covered the front door.

NO GUNS NO DRUGS OR WEAPONS OF ANY KIND!

A shiver went down my spine as I looked at the warning from inside my car. What kind of place has to warn you about things like that? This was a far cry from "No shirt no shoes no service", to be sure.

I dialed Blaine's number, ready to tell him to come outside to meet me, but the line was busy. I tried again, and again, and as I kept the car idling outside the front of the bar my kidneys started reminding me that it had been a long ride.

"Damn!" I said to the phone after getting yet another busy signal, knowing that Blaine probably knew I was calling him.

Finally, I jumped out of the car and went up to the front door, needing to at least use the bathroom. All around me were reminders that I was a fish out of water, as suspicious eyes looked at the 57 year old white woman who looked every bit as nervous as she was.

I couldn't see inside from where I was, which made me even more nervous, but I really had to go, so I flung the door open and stepped in. The aroma of stale beer brought back memories of my college days, but the bar was so dimly lit that it took me a moment until my eyes adjusted from the bright outside.

A familiar voice blared from the TV at the end of the bar. Judge Mathis. There were three men sitting at the bar and one behind, and when I stepped inside they all turned to face me. I figured that they didn't get too many folks like me in this establishment, so the fact that my arrival raised eyebrows was no surprise.

"Uh - can I use your rest room?" I asked in a voice that warbled like a loon's.

The man behind the bar was talking on a cellphone and nodded, making a gesture toward the rear of the bar, and I nodded while moving quickly toward the room that had a faded LADIES sign on the door. Someone had thoughtfully added BITCHES underneath it, while a reference to Ho's right under that.

I had to go so bad that I ignored the graffiti and walked into a bathroom that I hoped would be a little nicer than the bar it was located in. My hopes were dashed when I saw the ancient fixtures that had seen both better and cleaner days, but when you gotta go - you go.

Hiking my skirt up to my waist, I was happy that I had followed Blaine's instructions and had not worn panties as I straddled the antique china bowl and let loose. The torrent of urine that exploded out of me was so loud I figured that the guys at the bar must have heard the splattering. Either that, or Judge Mathis must have reamed some knucklehead out at the same time, because the guffaws that accompanied my peeing came right through the wall.

At least there was toilet paper, although the soap dispenser was empty, forcing me to wash my hands as best I could in the grubby sink that only provided cold water.

"Why are you doing this, Marie?"

I asked myself that as I looked at my reflection in the cracked mirror in front of me. How desperate have you become? How obsessed with this young man are you that you would drive all morning and follow his directions to this hole-in-the-wall? Crystal Palace? More like the gates of hell, and now I steeled myself before going out to face the patrons of this establishment, most of which were about my age.

I stepped out into the bar area, not exactly sure about what I was supposed to do, and fumbled into my pocketbook for my phone in hopes that Blaine would pick up when I called this time.

"Yo!" the bartender called out, gesturing me over to the bar, where a rocks glass full of a rich amber was positioned in between two hulking black guys who looked at the glass with even more enthusiasm than they did me.

"I'm supposed to - uh - meet someone here, I think," I said to the bartender, who was a heavy set middle aged guy with salt and pepper hair and a face that reminded me of the guy that fought Rocky in the first movie.

"Jack," he said as he nodded toward the glass. "Blaine said you'd like it."

"Blaine?" I asked, confused for a second.

"Here," the barkeep replied, handing me the phone over the aged wooden bar that was older than both of us combined, and would look real nice if it was refinished. Like me, I said to myself.

"Hello?"

"Marie, my love," the familiar voice exclaimed. "You made it."

"Blaine? Where are you?"

"Close Marie," Blaine said. "You're getting warm. How do you like the Palace?"

"Um... okay," I lied as the guy to my right checked out my backside without comment.

"You like Jack Daniels, right?" Blaine asked.

"Uh - yeah, I guess," I answered, not mentioning that I liked some Coke with it - a whole lot of cola.

"Drink up dear," Blaine cheerfully replied. "Say hello to Dwight."

"Dwight?" I asked.

"The proprietor," Blaine informed me, and when I looked up the Carl Weathers look-alike grinned like he knew what Blaine was saying. "He's the man that's going to try you out."

"What?"

"What you're going to do is hand Dwight the phone, and then finish your drink. Have another Jack if you want. Just don't have too many or else - you see that pool table by the wall?"

"Yes?"

"A sweet thing like you gets drunk in that bar might find themselves with their ass on the felt while everybody in the joint fucks her silly. That sound good to you?"

"God no," I said, shuddering at the thought.

"Word to the wise. Now hand Dwight the phone and then follow him back to the kitchen. That's the room at the other end of the bar. The one with the swinging doors on it. You see it?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're going to go back there and suck Dwight's cock."

"What... I am not!" I exclaimed, the shock in my voice getting too much attention.

"You are. You're going to suck Dwight's cock and like it."

"What - exactly what do you think I am?" I asked with all the indignity I could muster.

"I think we both know the answer to that, Marie," Blaine said in a voice that was the exact opposite of mine in tone and texture. "Go ahead. Dwight's a nice guy. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Now hand him the phone."

My shaking hand brought the phone over the bar to the owner, and after this Dwight took it from my I grabbed the glass and downed it in one swallow, causing the guys around me to chuckle as one.

"Be glad to buy you another one of them, little lady," the guy next to me said, and I shook my head no as the other guys also offered me refills.

"Go back home, Marie," I said softly to myself as the bourbon burned through my body.

Across the way, Dwight was talking to Blaine as he moved along the bar toward the rear of the room. Toward the aged swinging doors that looked like they belonged on the entrance of one of those saloons in a western, and now he was turning and motioning me to follow.

Dwight cursed at the guys at the bar, warning them not to help themselves as he held the one side of the door open for me.The room we were in was a kitchen, or at least used to be. Now cluttered with supplies, the room was a landing spot for junk.

"Blaine wants to know if you did what he told you to do," Dwight asked, and when I shrugged my shoulders in confusion he clarified for me. "Wants me to check to make sure you ain't wearin' nothing underneath that stuff you got on. Lift the sweater."

"Here?" I asked, looking over the top of the swinging doors at the bar area, where Judge Mathis was being ignored by the three guys who were all looking towards us.

Dwight nodded, and I found myself taking the bottom of my sweater in my hands under the bartender's watchful eye, while he held the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

Blaine had told me not to wear undergarments of any kind, and I had felt strange not wearing a brassiere, even under a bulky sweater that hid what little I had. Exposing my shortcomings like this to a total stranger was humiliating, and he chuckled when I raised the sweater up above my sad little breasts.

"They ain't much," Dwight was chirping into the phone as his hand moved toward my breasts, and I felt the color rise in my face as I heard his crude but accurate assessment of my bosom. "But these nipples are sure fine - what? She does?"

Dwight's fingers were cold as he grabbed my nipples roughly, taking the fat bullets and turning them like they were the knobs of a short wave radio, causing me to gasp in response.

"Blaine says you like the puppies treated rough," Dwight told me as he lifted my banana boobs by the nipples, pulling the pliant tit-flesh straight out, much like they had been in my much younger days.

"Ahhh!" I cried out, and from the bar area laughter erupted at my response to Dwight's manhandling of my breasts.

My nipples burned when he let go of them, and I instinctively reached up and cupped them in my palms as the stinging subsided, but Dwight was not waiting for me to recover.

"Your skirt - hike it up so's I can see your pussy," he declared, and as I did I leaned back against what used to be an ice-making machine, cringing as I found myself doing what the bartender demanded.

"Yeah, she's got hair on it," Dwight said into the phone as I felt his hand running through the fur. "Not a lot though - let me see here."

"Oh shit - you were right my man," Dwight cackled into the phone loud enough for the peanut gallery to hear. "Lady did like them titties roughed up. Her pussy is wet as hell!"

I whimpered as I felt the bony black index finger slide into my pussy, which was every bit as wet as he had described, and his deeply probing digit made it ever wetter as I squirmed helplessly.

"Get back to you later," Dwight told Blaine before clicking his phone shut. "Marie and me here, we got to be taking care of business now."

I was standing there frozen, still holding my skirt and sweater up, watching as Dwight pulled down his zipper and reached into his trousers, pulling out his flaccid penis. He stretched the mocha-toned organ a couple of times while nodding for me to get down on my knees.

The floor of this kitchen was ever more filthy than the bathroom's had been, and the bartender reached over and grabbed a piece of cardboard, tossing it down on the cracked linoleum in front of him in a gesture that at least suggested kindness.

"Don't want those cute white knees getting all dirty," Dwight said, putting his free hand on my shoulder to help ease me down.

The laughter from those guys out in bar told me that they could see what was going on underneath the bottom of the swinging doors - how loud could three men laugh, I wondered? Maybe there were more guys out there now? Perhaps this had become a community event. Look at the old white lady kneeling on the floor in front of the bartender.

Dwight's cock - he was wiggling the limp circumcised dick in my face, beckoning me to take it from him. My hand was visibly shaking as I reached up for it in slow motion, my head spinning as I tried to justify what I was doing.

It's okay, Marie, I kept telling myself. You used to do this all the time back in college. None of these people know you, and you'll never see them again. His cock isn't THAT big. Not all that much bigger than what you're used to. Lean forward. Open your mouth.

Dwight's cock was incredibly rubbery and tasted like a cock does when it's been trapped in shorts all day - musky and tart. My lips caressed the helmet of his member, my tongue swabbing around the underside before my mouth went down the shaft.

The cold metal of Dwight's zipper hit my face as I leaned into him, and he yelled out at somebody at the bar to do something for him while he undid his slacks, getting his clothing out of the way. Now my face was leaning into the tight curls above his dick, and my chin was being scraped my the coarseness of the hairs on his balls, but not for long.

As his cock stiffened and lengthened, the tip of his organ began poking against the back of my throat, forcing me to let my mouth slide further up the tool while my fist grabbed the base of the shaft.

"Blondie gonna take care of all of us?" asked a gruff voice from the other side of the doors.

"Get the fuck out of here," Dwight said. "Don't be botherin' the lady."

"Lady?" the voice bellowed as I watched his feet under the door. "Don't look like no lady from here."

He was right. What was I doing? Allowing myself to be used like this? Sucking on a stranger's cock like it was a lollipop - an increasingly long cock which I was only able to get halfway down now.

I wanted to get this over with so I tried to make him cum fast, but Dwight had other ideas. He lifted his cock and told me to lick his balls. My tongue lapped obediently at his sweaty nuts while he tapped his dick on the top of my head.

Taking his cock back into my mouth, I began to work on it feverishly, my fist spinning on the base of the shaft while my mouth went up and down the rest of his stiff member as fast I could, my slurping sounds so loud that they could probably hear out at the bar.

My head was throbbing as much as Dwight's cock was, but I didn't dare slow down. Please cum, I kept thinking. Make this end. How long have I been on my knees in this hell hole? Five - ten minutes? My knees said longer.

Dwight was now holding my head, fucking my skull as he thrust into my mouth as hard as I was going down on him. His flailing balls were slapping my throat on the downbeat as I kept waiting for him to cum.

Finally I heard Dwight groan - as did everybody else in the building - and my lips sensed the rush of his cum an instant before he began ejaculating into my mouth and throat, unleashing a staccato of semen so fast and hard that I almost gagged as I fought to keep swallowing.

When at last Dwight's orgasm ended, he pulled his drained dick out of my mouth and pulled his pants up while I struggled to get upright. My knees were red and bore the imprints of the edges of the cardboard. I tried to rub some feeling into them as Dwight buckled up and grabbed his phone again.

"Is Blaine coming?" I asked, but Dwight held up his hand as he kept his phone conversation going.

"Yeah, we done," Dwight said, looking at me with a knowing grin. "Not bad - not bad at all. She guzzled my sap like it was liquid gold. What? Oh, well you didn't tell me that, motherfucker. Besides, I like it when they swallow it. Okay. Later."

"Blaine's mad," Dwight explained. "He said he wanted me to pull out and cum all over your face. Fool didn't tell me that."

"Is Blaine coming?" I asked.

"Here? No. He's gonna call you in a few, when you get back to your car," Dwight said. "You know, that was some good cock-sucking there. You white women really know how to give head. Got a thing for black dicks, huh Marie?"

"I don't - I don't know."

"If you want to do any of these guys, you can," Dwight said before opening the swinging doors. "You can use this room."

"No," I said before going out to face what was now 5 men at the bar, and my ears burned as they let loose with applause along with derisive comments and suggestions.

I spun away from one of the men who stepped in front of me and made it to the door and out into the somewhat fresher air, practically running to my car and jumping in. I locked the doors and put my head on the steering wheel, trying to catch my breath and get my heart back into a regular rhythm, when my phone went off in my purse.

"Hello?"

"Marie!" said the chipper voice on the other end. "So how was it? How was your first taste of black cock?"

"Why did you make me do that?" I asked.

"I didn't make you do anything. You wanted to. How was Dwight?"

"That place was disgusting."

"It is that," Blaine agreed. "I used to drink there back in my school days. So how was Dwight? His cock big enough for you?"

"I don't care about that."

"Sure you don't," Blaine roared. "So how big is my man? Not like I'm ever going to find out like you did. He's bigger than your husband I assume?"

I don't want to talk about..."

"So how much meat my man Dwight got?"

"I didn't measure it," I snapped.

"Come on. An experienced cocksucker like you doesn't need a tape measure. Ten inches? A foot?"

"No," I said wearily. "I don't know. Seven - eight inches maybe."

"Oh. Dwight's got a teeny-weeny, huh?" Blaine said with a trace of pity in his voice. "Sorry. Well, you gotta start somewhere."

"Where are you?" I asked. "I haven't got much time. Have to start heading home before long."

"You still want to see me?" Blaine asked.

"Yes," I said, not adding that I wanted to see him now more than ever.

"Did you cum. Marie?" Blaine asked. "When you were sucking Dwight's cock and all those guys at the bar were listening and yelling out stuff, did you cum? Did you have you hand between your legs? Were you fingering yourself?"

"No," I said, but I knew that I would be very soon. "Blaine, I want to see you."

"Not this time, Marie," Blaine said.

"What do you mean?"

"Kinda busy right now, Marie," Blaine declared. "Next time."

"You mean you had me drive all this way for nothing?" I asked.

"I wouldn't say it was for nothing," Blaine said. "You got to experience your first black cock, and I'll bet you got a story out of it too. Think how much better it would have been if he did what I told him to do and you came out of that kitchen with your face and hair covered with his spunk."

"But you - when will I see you?"

"Soon Marie - soon," Blaine responded. "Patience, grasshopper."

I heard Blaine chuckling just before he hung up, and after staring at the phone I looked at the door of the Crystal Palace for a moment before starting the car and beginning the long drive home. I made it to the Taconic Parkway before pulling into a rest area and getting myself off without leaving the car.

***

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