Southern Hospitality

I feel as if I’m losing my mind, lying here on top of the starched sheets, fighting for sleep. I’m tempted to go outside and brave the mosquitoes, just to have something different to look at, besides the striped wallpaper and ornate furniture of my room. I sit in the window for a while, staring out at the shadowy yard, searching for the moon. There seems to be a slight breeze outside, so I decide to quietly make my way downstairs. Maybe I’ll catch a few breezes sitting on the screened veranda. Wade has often told me that he spent many nights sleeping on the porch as a child, trying to find relief from the sultry summer atmosphere.

Even as I sit on the back porch, outside the kitchen, I can’t erase the last dream from my mind. It was an explicitly sexual one, one that I could tell that my body was very hesitant to wake up from. I’ve had these dreams before, in which a faceless stranger comes to my bed, and fulfills me to no end. But this time, the stranger has a face. I’ve been so disturbed lately, because the man in my dreams is John.

And I can tell that it’s not some random Negro; it’s specifically John. I hear his voice, and I can finally see his face, his deep set, brown eyes, his hairless, squared jaw line, his slightly hooked nose, his full lips. The dream always begins with him holding me, as he did on the day that he discovered us in the pantry. Sometimes Wade is there, sometimes he isn’t; the shocking part of the entire thing is that I seem to have heightened pleasure when Wade is there. I can never tell if he is sitting right there watching us, or if he is just close by, oblivious to what we are doing.

In order to retain my sanity, I’ve been trying to remind myself that I’ve been having these dreams for ages, and that I’ve managed to deal with them before. They’re just a harmless release of frustration. They usually occur when I am longing for sex. And Wade has been distracted for most of our stay so far; whenever he has thought of sex, he’s only thought about pleasing himself. I’ve stated the facts to him, hoping that he’ll decide to take action, hopefully tomorrow. But I’m not really counting on having my needs satisfied anytime soon.

It turns out that the sticky night breeze only offers minimal relief from the heat of the house. It’s still hot; the only difference is that out here, the hot air moves around more. The other difference is that the insects are louder. I’m wondering if I’ll have dark circles under my eyes, from this constant lack of sleep. I’m not even drowsy yet. In fact, I seem to be more wired, now. Every sound seems to be magnified, so much so that I think I’ve heard footsteps approaching the house. I look around, straining my eyes to see in the darkness, holding my breath in order to listen again.

It’s true. Someone is walking toward the house. A pinprick of fear stabs my chest as I wonder what to do. Is it an intruder? Or is it one of the members of the household sneaking into the house from a late night out? I’ve noticed Alice tiptoeing down the hall, at least once, long after midnight. I have to remind myself of where I am; I’m in the country, and most places are too spread apart for roving bandits and thieves to make much progress. But even as I feed more rationalizations to myself, I can see a man’s shadowy figure crossing the backyard. I’m frozen, reminding myself that screaming can sometimes prove to be an effective weapon.

He approaches the door and stops when he sees me standing at the end of the porch.

‘Miss Logan?’ he whispers. It’s John.

‘What are you doing here?’ I whisper back to him.

‘I was treating Roy. He dislocated his shoulder, and I just popped it back in…’

‘This late at night?’ I cringe at the visual of popping someone’s bone back into place.

‘I didn’t find out about it until Mama came home, and I had some other patients to see before I could come back.’

I move closer to him, so that we don’t have to strain so much to speak.

‘He lives in the shack over yonder, and he doesn’t have any ice, so I came up here to get some.’

‘How were you going to get in?’ We’re close enough to touch, now.

‘This isn’t New York, Miss Logan. Nobody locks their doors around here.’

I grin, remembering Jill’s warning of roaming colored men.

‘Could you get me some ice, please, Miss Logan? I have to be getting back.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you to call me Ingrid?’ I hold the door open for him, leading him into the kitchen.

‘Are you sure everybody’s asleep?’ he sounds wary. ‘We can’t be caught in here together…’

‘No one is up. I’m the only one who can’t seem to sleep in this heat,’ I pull the refrigerator door open for him. He’s brought a bowl to carry the ice in.

I stand holding the refrigerator door open, taking advantage of the cold draft and the light, to get an uninterrupted look at him. His forearm is exposed beneath his cuffed shirtsleeve, and I can trace several veins with my eyes as he reaches into the frosty icebox.

‘You should close that,’ he reminds me, probably because I’m letting all of the cold air out.

‘I told you that no one else is up.’

‘Your nightgown is pretty thin,’ he says, covering the bowl with a towel.

I blush, realizing that he could see my beige panties, the outline of my low-slung hips, and my darkened, erect nipples through my sheer gown.

‘I’m sorry…’ I look down. ‘You must think I’m incorrigible.’

He smirks slightly, before quickly stepping out of the kitchen, running across the yard and disappearing into the darkness.

---

Wade is more energetic than normal today. I’m guessing that it’s all pent up sexual tension. We’re having sex for the first time in almost three weeks, and he seems to be in a rush, just like when we’ve spent a holiday away from each other. We have the house to ourselves once more; he’s sent the housekeepers out to beat the rugs (making up some story about me being allergic to the dust), and he’s sent Tillie out for special ingredients for some dish that he claims to have a yearning for.

After chasing me through the house, and tackling me in the living room, Wade hoists me onto the sideboard. He informs me, in ragged whispers, that it is a valuable antique. He pumps his cock into me at an accelerated pace, making the sideboard bump the wall with each alternate stroke. He was careful to remove all the knickknacks from the top of it, but he’s left the doily, so that we won’t blemish the wood.

I’m almost to the point of tears; I’m not enjoying this, by any stretch of the imagination. He’s all into pleasing himself, yet again, and I’m just another hole for him to poke. Even when I put his hands on my breasts, he lets them fall off, gripping the wood of the sideboard instead, so that he can thrust harder. My back is sore and my ass hurts from sitting with my legs spread on top of the hard wood. I heave a sigh, staring off across the room, noting the layer of dust on top of the old radio cabinet.

I close my eyes, searching my imagination for any fantasy that will get me off, something that will arouse me instantly, so that I might be able to get a buzz before Wade’s fast approaching climax. I can’t think of anything more exciting than the thought of John’s large hands on me; his wonderful hands, with their earth toned skin, long thick fingers, and bulging veins touching me everywhere. I latch on to the memory of his hands as they caressed the bowl of ice, and the veins of his arm as they were illuminated by the refrigerator light.

I open my eyes to see John standing in the doorway, staring. I blink, knowing that this is just my mind playing tricks on me, but he’s still there, holding my purse in his hands. I’m too shocked to be embarrassed, and before I can stop him, Wade finally cums, moaning with each spasm of his body. John carefully sits the purse on the sofa, and quietly leaves the room as Wade slowly recovers himself.

---

I don’t even bother knocking on the door, since he’s told me that no one uses their locks. I step into the dim living room, adjusting my eyes to the muted light. All of the shades are drawn, and the house is quiet. I sit on the sofa, deciding to wait here for a few minutes, before leaving a note.

Tillie told me that he would be here; she said that he usually spent a few hours each afternoon napping, to offset the many nights that he was out tending to late emergencies. I didn’t tell her that I would be coming here; I’d explained my questions away, making it seem like more of my normal New York nosiness. I’ve had to plan this out carefully, knowing that it would be challenging to get away from Wade long enough to come here. Luckily, Wade’s uncle in Vicksburg invited him for a weeklong stay. I pleaded illness, and somehow managed to convince Wade to travel without me.

I just had to come, to thank John, and I would have found someway to get here, even if Wade hadn’t been leaving for Vicksburg. As soon as I’d found the chance, I inventoried the contents of my purse, to find that everything, along with all of the cash, was there. John had included a note, explaining that he’d just found it underneath the front seat of his car that morning, so he dropped by to give it to me.

The silence is interrupted by a sound from the rear of the house. I move toward it, thinking that maybe John is in the back, working. I make my way down a narrow hallway to a brightly lit bedroom. I can’t help looking around, to see more of the private side of John. His room is immaculate. It is sparsely furnished, with a dresser, a small table with a chair, and a large bed, with the covers neatly turned down.

‘What are you doing here?’ John’s deep voice startles me.

‘I’m sorry, I just came to…’

He’s standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a bath towel draped around his waist. I’m trying not to stare, but he’s so beautiful, that I can’t take my eyes off of him.

‘You shouldn’t have come, here. Does Wade know…’

‘Wade’s in Vicksburg for the week.’

‘Why didn’t you go with him?’

‘I didn’t want to.’

‘You should go, Ingrid.’

‘Finally,’ I’m feeling bold. ‘Finally, “Ingrid”.’

‘Really, you need to go…’ he’s searching for something in the closet, a robe, I’m guessing.

‘I wanted to thank you, for returning my purse.’

‘All right,’ he sounds impatient.

‘I’m deeply appreciative.’

‘Okay.’

He doesn’t want to be rude, but I can tell that he wants me to leave. I’m rooted to the spot; I can feel my knees turning to jelly. I’m still looking at him, his brown skin glistening from his recent bath. I walk over to him, amazing myself, and I reach up to touch his damp shoulders. I press my lips into his, savoring his warmth, breathing in his soapy smell.

I’m ready for anything to happen, now. Mostly, though, I’m prepared for him to push me away. But he doesn’t; he slowly envelops me in his arms, and returns my kiss. We stand holding each other for what seems like an hour. When he finally speaks again, I know that he’s going to warn me away from him, but I cut him off, with another, deeper kiss.

I refuse to let him go, grasping him tightly, feeling the dampness of his towel and skin soaking through my dress. He’s given up on pushing me away; he inspects my body with his hands, stroking my arms and my back, down to my ass, cradling it lovingly in his palms. His touch is like electricity flowing through me. My body is responding much sooner than I’m used to; I can feel moisture leaking to my underwear.

I can also feel his hardness pressing into my stomach. I stroke his chest as we kiss more, slowly moving my hands down his torso, like ridged chocolate, to the top of the towel. After letting the towel drop to the floor, I sit at the foot of the bed, staring at his rigid, black cock. I smile at him, remembering our first meeting.

‘Do you have any of your mother’s strawberry preserves here?’ I ask him jokingly.

He gives a hearty laugh at this.

‘That’s okay,’ I grab his cock. ‘I’m sure your chocolate will be sweet enough.’

He sighs softly as I lick him slowly. He’s too big to fit entirely in my mouth, so I stroke his cock with my tongue, slicking it up, making it shiny and wet. Like Wade, he runs his hands through my hair, but unlike Wade, he doesn’t thrust his hips toward me, allowing me to work at my own pace. I can feel his cock getting even harder now that I have it in my mouth. I want so much to please him, that I can feel myself becoming more aroused as I suck him and pump him off with my hands.

I grab his firm ass cheeks, pulling him deeper into my throat. He’s hesitant at first, but I urge him on, relaxing my throat and plunging deeper, letting him fuck my face. He moves with a slow, but steady rhythm, keeping a relaxed grip on my head, sawing his cock into my mouth. When he doesn’t cum immediately from this I raise my eyebrows disbelief, wondering if he’ll cum all over my face.

He pulls his cock out of my mouth and pushes me up on the bed, sliding my panties down and unzipping my dress. He helps me out of my clothes and stands over me for a minute, staring down at my naked body.

‘I’ve always been a little jealous of Wade. He’s always been lucky, never really had to work for anything. Never had to fight for what he has… Always lucky.’

I look up at him, blushing.

‘I don’t know how he managed to win a gorgeous woman like you. Always lucky…’

As John moves toward me, I’m expecting him to sink his cock into me with one rough stroke, but instead, I feel his hands on my breasts, kneading them gently, and I feel his breath on my clit.

‘Ohhh…’ I’m moaning already, even before he slides his tongue into my pussy.

‘You’re just as sweet as you look,’ he mutters from between my legs, before he continues his sensuous lapping.

Wade has only gone down on me once, and after complaining that he didn’t like the taste, never tried it again. That one time was less than memorable for me, anyway, because he didn’t put any zeal into it. But the way that John is licking me now is blowing my mind. I’m clutching his wiry hair, locking his head between my thighs, mewling and bucking with delight. I can feel an orgasm coming, a rare thing for me. I don’t want him to stop, so I voice my wish. He obeys my command, twisting his long, thick fingers into my opening, and twirling his tongue around my clit.

I feel as if I’ve been electrocuted with a shock of pleasure. He pumps his fingers into me over and over, until I’m trembling so much that I can’t breath. My toes curl as he rubs his tongue on my clit again and again, and I moan so deeply that it hurts my throat.

I’m in heaven. He’s given me all that I need, so he takes me by surprise when he does thrust his hard hot cock into me. He’s pushing, but my pussy has clamped down on him. He slows down, pushing more gently, lying on top of me, pinching my nipples and whispering into my ear about my lovely green eyes and my beautiful blushed skin, stopping every few minutes so that I can get used to him.

He kisses me long and slow, nibbling my lips and sucking my tongue, when he starts to gently pump his cock in and out of me. His cock reaches deep inside me, even without him pushing hard. He’s filled me, grazing my spot, as he saws back and forth. He grinds his pelvis into mine, rubbing his prickly pubic hair into my stringy red patch. John lifts my legs to go deeper, wrapping my thighs around his waist. I can feel my climax building again, as my pussy squeezes his thick cock. He’s pumping harder, now, and I’m moaning again, whimpering almost, babbling from the exquisite pleasure he’s giving me.

I can hear him moaning now. He’s thrusting faster, and he’s gripping my shoulders, slapping his balls against my ass. I’m biting my lips to keep from screaming, but the feeling is so intense, that I can’t even keep my mouth closed. I can feel moisture on my face, tears; I’m sobbing, uncontrollably, and he’s pumping me at a brutal pace, sending my eyes rolling back into my head, making me grind my teeth. I sink my nails into his back, bucking my hips up to meet his. He stiffens, groaning and clutching me, coming so deep inside me that I feel little spots of pain at my center. I’m so wet, that I don’t know where our sweat stops and my juices begin, but after a few minutes I can feel his hot semen oozing out of me. He’s still cumming, long after Wade would have finished, and he probes between my legs for my clit, sending me off again, giving us a simultaneous climax.

We’re both panting, after this workout. I’m still crying though, sobbing with each breath. John is holding me, whispering to me, telling me that everything is okay. I know that he thinks that I’m upset, but I’m not. I’m just in disbelief, wondering how I’ve gone on so long being deprived of such intense pleasure.

To be continued…