My Ebony Rose

Please allow me to introduce myself to you! I am Bill Evans, now 26 years young. My high school and college years were pretty much wasted time. I ran with questionable guys, screwed around with questionable girls/women, crossed paths with the law, spent two periods in the local jail. I was pretty much a loser, academically and socially. My family had pretty much written me off. My parents were angry because they paid a lot of money toward my college education, and figured they, and I, got little out of it. My two sisters and brother acted as if I didn't exist because my antics had clouded their reputations a bit. As a result, by the time I (barely) graduated college, my life was somewhat a shambles. After a bit of introspection, I decided I could either fuck up the rest of my life, or I could try to rescue something from the wreckage. I chose rescue. I began serious job hunting. It was not successful for about three months. Some of my past came back to haunt me. The jail time, while misdemeanors, was still on record, and it stopped several possible jobs from coming to fruition. I was beginning to wonder if I was relegated to flipping ground beef or stocking warehouses.

Then, one bright sunny day I sat down with a recruiter, Ken Gordon, from a large computer company. He was a likeable fellow, about my father's age. We chatted amicably for a while, then got down to business. It soon became evident I was not a choice candidate. I had the familiar sinking feeling preceding another rejection. He sat back and thought for a bit.

"Bill," he began, "To what do you credit your record I see before me?" My turn to think. Finally, I decided to be totally honest.

"Mr. Gordon, I ran around with a bunch of guys who were just like me; we had no sense of duty or responsibility, answered to no one, and pretty much did as we wished. That established my person in middle and high schools, and it carried into college as well. After I graduated, I put myself through some self-examination, and decided I'd been very irresponsible, very immature, and very antisocial my whole life. I realized it had gained me nothing except a sour reputation and a lack of ability to enjoy 'real' life. I decided to reverse course and become a citizen, accepting responsibility for myself. I'm willing to start in your company at a lower position, and prove myself worthy of future advancements."

My turn to sit back and shut up. I realized that one can say too little or too much in this situation. Mr. Gordon looked at his hands for a bit, then raised his head.

"Bill, I hear everything you stated, and some things between the lines. I must admit, usually our company is not interested in hiring a young man with so many strikes against him." My heart sank, another wasted interview!

"However," he said, "I must admit I want to see you succeed with us. The reason is my own son. I would have denied it at the time, but he was our favorite child. His younger sister just never had the same class in our minds. He was a good athlete, made excellent grades, got a lot of breaks. When he went off to college, the wife and I thought our dream of a successful child was just around the corner. Our daughter, a year younger, graduated high school with honors, earned a full-ride scholarship, and left for another school. In our son's junior year, his phone calls became less frequent, and he returned home less often. We were quite concerned, and called the school therapy department. They tried to contact him, but he shut them out. Now we were frightened. As we wondered how to handle this, we received a call that he was found dead in his dorm. Evidence pointed to an intentional drug overdose. We were certain this was an error."

"Unfortunately, they were right, we wrong. He had been taking steadily heavier doses of several potent painkillers. We were demolished. Our world had ended. Through all this, we'd not contacted his sister. Later, we realized we hadn't spoken to her since she went to college. A friend called her and broke the news, and gave her the timing of services. Needless to say, we barely functioned during this time. Friends handled many of the details. After the burial, we went into seclusion, so sad we could barely function. All this time, we did not have one conversation with our daughter. We realized days later she had been there, but we had not spoken. About a month later, we contacted her, but she did not return our calls. Now we realized we had a double tragedy; our son dead, our daughter estranged."

"We were able to finally contact her. She agreed to visit over spring break. Her fiance was with her; we had no idea she was serious about any one. We sat to talk, expecting to hear her apologize for ignoring us. What a surprise for us! She asked if we had any idea why her brother had taken his life. We replied we had no idea. She then gave us a synopsis, based on her view of things."

"Dad, Mom," she began, "It is mostly due to his upbringing." We both cried our denial. "Don't interrupt any more!" she glared at us. "You probably don't remember his school years as I do. He was pampered, worshiped, placed on a pedestal by you, by his peers, the media. He had ever-higher standards to meet. Everything went his way; he worked, but not as hard as I and many others did. By the time college rolled around he had little sense of how to struggle for things. He had had few disappointments in his life. All this left him totally unprepared to be away from his parents, among strangers, and no longer buoyed by adulation. When his grades began falling, he didn't know how to respond, how to solve his dilemma. He finally arrived at the point where death was the only out."

We were in shock. We had no idea of the reality of his early life.

My wife asked, "How do you know all this?"

"Because he wrote me a letter two weeks before he died. He did not appear frantic, just mentioned that things were getting tough. I don't think he knew how to express his deep depression. That's the only time ever that he communicated with me. I grew up feeling as if I had no parents, no brother. Only Aunt Barbara and Uncle Jack ever treated me as a real person! What I have achieved so far has been through my efforts, save for a couple of teachers who spurred me on."

My wife and I were shocked to distraction. We could not imagine her attitude. My wife fired back that she was ungrateful, had imagined things. Our daughter looked very resigned, very sad. Shortly after, they left to return to their home."

My wife and I were in shock for several days, thinking of our daughter as a bitter woman, jealous of her brother's life. We felt so burdened that we contacted a few friends of both our son and daughter. The picture they painted upheld our daughter's version of their early life. We suddenly realized that we'd ignored her the whole time. We also discovered that in spite of our best efforts to connect with her, she had no interest in that. So, you see, we have lost both our children!"

After a bit of thought, I asked how this applied to my situation.

"Simple!" he replied, "I feel a great responsibility to atone for my mistakes. I would like you to accept a position with us. I feel you have straightened your life, and will be an asset! I won't be spoon-feeding you; I've learned my lesson on that, but you can always come to me for suggestions."

Well, I did accept, and it turned out to be a good match. I did excel, and became a model salesman for the Eastern District. I had a great condo, a neat car, and enough free time to enjoy life,

One of my fave co-workers was a black guy, Anthony Thompson, about my age. We hit it off right away. We had similar interests in sports, world events and entertainment. Our friendship was the target of a few racists in our department, but we ignored them.

One Wednesday, he approached me and invited me to a picnic his family was holding at their house. I accepted, and asked what I could bring. He answered just my lovely self and an iron jock strap. My eyes widened; I asked why.

"My little sister, Rose Marie, is gonna be there, and ain't no way I'll let you near her! She is ugly, mean and a lesbian, so no ideas!"

I was laughing as he walked away. Saturday, I drove up and went to the door carrying a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of Jack. I'd heard his father liked that. Anthony answered the door and invited me in. I stuck my head inside and cryptically asked if she was there yet. He furrowed his brow, asking me what I meant. I leered at him and stated I was looking for my first mean, ugly lesbian. His shout brought his mother running. He glared at me, then introduced us. He didn't mention the subject to her. His mother graciously accepted both gifts, and Anthony escorted me to the back yard. It was a spacious area, over an acre, with very attractive landscaping. Anthony handed me a diet soda, knowing I no longer drank alcohol, a promise to my new life.

The crowd, about fifty people, was a nice mix; all ages, black and white as well as a few Asians. Everyone was dressed in what I call 'fashionably casual' attire. Many conversations were underway. Anthony introduced me to many folks, and sometimes described me as 'the outstanding salesman' in our company. He was not far off; the previous year, I had been awarded 'Best New Sales Person'.

I had been there about 30 minutes when I heard some people exclaim about a new arrival. Looking at the sliding door as I sipped soda, I was swept off my feet by the appearance of the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen. Soda leaked onto my jacket as my eyes bulged. Several people approached and welcomed her. I distinctly heard the name 'Rose Marie'. As I ogled her, I thought 'not bad for an ugly, mean lesbian'! She was busy talking to people for about 20 minutes. Then, Anthony whispered in her ear and pointed in my direction. They walked my way.

"Bill Evans, please welcome my sister Rose Marie!" I was floored, and might have stared with my lower jaw hanging open.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Evans. Anthony has told me so much about you!"

"Also pleased, Miss Thompson! I'm having trouble aligning your appearance with the description I got from your brother!"

She looked at him questioningly, not noticing the small kick he delivered to my shin. He offered to lead her away, but she held her ground.

"Mr. Armstrong, may I address you as Bill?"

"Only if Rose Marie is good for you!"

"Oh, you may call me 'Rose', most everyone does!"

"With your approval, I'll stay with the formal name; Rose Marie sounds so appropriate for you!"

She smiled as her brother, standing slightly behind her, grimaced and ran his forefinger horizontally across his neck. I ignored him. She turned to him.

"Dear Brother, you can go find other things to do. I wanna speak with Mr. Evans for a while!" He grimaced at me, then turned and walked away.

A while turned out to be the remainder of the party. We walked around conversing, she holding my arm. We spoke to several people, or groups thereof, ate a very nice meal, and watched some of the younger, more adventurous people play soccer on the expansive lawn. We sat on a bench overlooking the gardens, isolated from the others, and talked for almost two hours. Finally realizing it was well past sundown, we strolled back to the patio, where everyone else had gathered. Rose Marie picked up some more food for us, and led me to a bench along one open side. I noticed we were the object of many stares and 'looks', and wondered what was up.

Finally, after most of the guests had drifted off home, Anthony approached us. Rose Marie was looking at me, so did not see him grab his own throat with both hands and carry out a choking scene. I smiled and nodded to him. He stood near Rose Marie, his hand on her shoulder. He looked down into her face.

"My Dear Sister, is this boor keeping you from really enjoying your evening?" She smiled up to him, then turned to me.

"My Dear Brother, you should've told me you had such an enjoyable friend to entertain me here!"

"Dear Sister, I could tell you tales of this brigand!" I looked into her eyes.

"Probably about like the one I heard!" I grinned at him. She looked at him questioningly.

"Uh, never mind!" he backed off. "May I drive you home?" he asked her. She looked at me.

"Only if Bill can't!" Anthony glared again, but knew better than complain. I might relate his earlier description of his sister! Anthony reluctantly walked us to my car, kissed his sister, and reminded me that jealous brothers can be very destructive. Rose Marie giggled, then leaned toward me as I started the engine. I drove slowly as her head rested on my shoulder. We did not speak much; that had been done earlier.

As we pulled up to her house, she invited me in. We held hands to the door. She unlocked and opened it, then entered ahead of me. She invited me to sit, then came in with two tall glasses of iced tea. She sat next to me, our thighs and shoulders touching. She leaned back and observed me.

"I wasn't kidding about enjoying your company, Bill. You were the bright spot in an otherwise dreary evening. I thoroughly enjoyed being with you, talking about so many things. I've never met a man like you!"

She had leaned toward me a bit. I leaned toward her, too, and watched her lovely lips as mine connected with them. Her hand went behind my neck, pulling me smoothly against her. My god! Her lips were even more delicious than they were beautiful. The kiss lasted a good long time. When we broke, we were both panting, but neither moved away.

"God!" she exclaimed. "I thought I'd been kissed, but that was a real zinger! Wait, maybe it was a flook. Let's give it another try!"

She slid closer to me so her breasts were pressed to my chest. As we again joined lips, she placed a hand on my thigh and squeezed. Was I ever aroused! Now she moved her lips on mine, and I did the same. I thought that was the greatest, then her tongue probed at my lips, painting them with sweet saliva, and attempting to penetrate. I surrendered! My lips opened, and her tongue pierced my mouth, searching for mine. We spent a long time frenching each other, her hand continuing to squeeze my thigh, my hand on her shoulder. Finally we parted and sat back.

"Jesus Christ, man! That first one was no mistake! How the hell did you ever perfect that kissing technique?"

I smiled at her without answering. We cuddled close and sighed to each other. She looked at me.

"My roomie is out for the weekend! It's very late outside, so dark and dreary. Would you like to stay the night?"

I hugged her tightly. "I take it you have sleeping arrangements in mind?"

"Well, Mr. Evans, my roomie would never agree to you sleeping in her bed, and since we have no guest facilities, I guess you're stuck with sleeping with the hostess!" I leaned back and put my hand on my forehead.

"Damn, this was supposed to be my week for boys! But I guess I shouldn't besmirch the kind lady. Of course I'll sleep with you! And also, of course, your brother will draw and quarter me on Monday!"

"But why does he have to know?"

"Because he knows me too well! I'll have that silly grin on my face, as well as a fresh-fucked look, and he'll know right away!" She held her arms to her chest.

"Oh, so your idea is some outlandish sex when we hardly know each other?"

"Well, he has told me a lot about his little sister!"

She pursed her lips. "Yeah, he's told me a lot about you, too!"

"And in spite of that you still want to sleep with me?"

"No, because of that, as well as our evening, I want to. I am very impressed with you!"

"And I with you, Rose Marie!"

"C'mon!" she said, gripping my arm. She led me to a large bedroom, tastefully decorated. She closed and locked the door.

"Just in case Roomie decides to come back early! Now, may I disrobe you kind Sir?"

I stood with my arms straight out to the side. She smiled and unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it off, then my undershirt. She then undid my belt and trouser clasp and lowered the zipper. As she lowered the pants, she was face to cock with my, well, cock! A quick kiss to the head over my shorts, then she lowered them, too. Now she stood back and observed me. I was unperturbed.

"Wow, Mister, I thought I was aroused! Look at that cock!"

Now, I'm slightly over average, about seven inches, so I thought she was kidding. I told her so.

"Nope, it's just right! I am not a fan of eight and nine inchers!"

She raised her arms and said, "My turn!"

I unbuttoned her white blouse and removed it. Next, I unfastened her bra and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts were as dark as her skin elsewhere, and were on the smallish side. I was admiring them.

"Guess my tits are not in a league with your cock, huh?"

"They are superb, really hot! I wouldn't have it any other way! I am not a fan of saggy melons that might smother me when you get on top, and I DO want you on top sometimes!"

She kissed me, then I unzipped and lowered her skirt. Her panties were an abbreviated thong, curving down almost all the way to her slit. I moaned my approval, then knelt and lowered them. While I was there, I leaned in and kissed her beautiful pussy. She jerked and moaned. I then stood and embraced her tightly, kissing her deeply and my hands squeezed her perfect ass cheeks. My very erect cock was pressed between our bellies. Finally, I picked her up and lay her on the king bed. I slipped in beside her. We again embraced, and she sighed.

"Oh shit! You feel so good to squeeze! I could get very used to this!"

I leaned back and observed her. She was quite dark, almost black, and had a skin quality that only enhanced her image. I could just imagine how we would appear with my white body on her dark one, her equally black legs wrapped around me as we made love. Her facial features were not totally African-American, leaning more to caucasian

"Like what you see, Mister?" she asked. I murmured my 'Yes', then nuzzled into her neck.

I slid my leg between hers, rubbing it against her very moist cunt. She exclaimed an 'Oh!' and squeezed me tightly. I kissed her lovely lips, then ran my tongue over them. I kissed her neck with a somewhat open mouth, and licked that area. I bent and took her extended nipple into my lips, and licked and sucked it for a bit. The other one got the same treatment. I kissed and licked under her breasts, then down to her navel, where I again lingered with my tongue tip roaming into her 'innie'. I ran the same tip down her lower belly; she giggled and tightened her belly. I moved lower, and could detect her sexual aroma. God, did she smell great!

I kissed her mound, right where her slit began, then ran my tongue along both sides of her vulva, where her legs started. Finally satisfied with fore play, I ran my tongue up the length of her slit. She gasped and gripped my head in both hands. I burrowed into her pussy and licked deeply. She jerked in response.

I heard, "Ohmigod.....!", but the rest of her exclamation was blocked by her legs wrapping around my head. I raised my head and found her clit; it was sizable. I licked it a few times as she squirmed on the bed. Then it was down to her hole, where I forced my tongue in as deeply as I could. I tongue fucked her beautiful passage for a bit, then returned to her nub. I sucked it into my mouth, lightly stroking it with the tip of my tongue. By this time, Rose Marie was gasping for air and roughly forcing my face into her swampy cunt. Suddenly, she began gulping for air, her body stiffened, then she screamed her orgasm.

"Ohhhh fuuuuuck! Oh shit! Auuuugh!"

She collapsed into a sobbing heap, every muscle spasming. I hugged her ass cheeks and pressed my face into her. She was still for a while, then I moved up to her face. She appeared to be coming from a dream.

"You bastard!" she groaned.