tagInterracial LoveFaith Debased Ch. 2

Faith Debased Ch. 2


Author's comments: One thing sorely needs to be mentioned before I continue: As much as I'm trying to bring some sense of realism to this first ever endeavor, it is still a work of fiction, an erotic odyssey for the mind. It is not intended to give anyone license to sally forth with foolish disregard for the starker realities of life. The world is a dangerous enough arena without venturing into it with little or no concern for the minefields it is littered with. And I am not simply referring to the all-too-real threat of AIDS. Be true to yourselves, be discriminating and play safe, and always keep the Faith. Now, on with the show!


Chapter 2 The real thing…. At last!

How bringing a computer into the house irrevocably effected the rest of my life would be the sensible place to begin this chapter. After all, it was my next predestined step in that whirling, upward spiraling/downward plunging journey from who I once was into the person I am today.

The day began in what had become "normal" fashion for me; Brian left for work and out from hiding came my porno friends. We enjoyed ourselves immensely and with their help, along my trusty zucchini's cunt-filling assistance, I orgasmed quite a number of times before noon when I was forced to shut everything down and make things presentable around the house. The man scheduled to bring the computer to the house, set it up, and then give me a crash course on using it was supposed to be at the house at 1:30 that afternoon and I hadn't wanted to chance being so into my fantasy world that I wouldn't hear the front doorbell. "Or "God forbid!" getting no response to the bell, that he might try peeking through the window and catch the white lady of the house naked on the living room floor, fucking herself with a large, black zucchini to interracial porn.

It was doubly lucky for me that I did have everything in non-revealing order by 1:00, including having a fresh pot of coffee made, because Brian bounded through the front door at 1:20, five hours earlier then he should have been getting home from work. "Babycakes," he said excitedly, grabbing my hand like a little boy with a big secret he just had to share with someone, "you've got to come see this."

I allowed him to pull me outside and there in the driveway sat a brand new, 1 ton, extended cab pickup truck--with a just-as-brand-new camper shell over the bed--instead of his eight year old Explorer. His "Exploder" I had always called it, because the vehicle had been a mechanical nightmare, constantly throwing this, or blowing that, or dropping something else. "Can we afford this, Honey?" I asked, walking around the big shiny truck.

"Easily," he chirped. It had been a dumb question. Brian made damned good money as a finish carpenter, doing the meticulous work in a new house that people take for granted. It takes a good eye, a steady hand, and a lot of patience to make the baseboards, window and door moldings all fit precisely so they don't look like piece of wood slapped around things to conceal gaps or mistakes. Which, believe it or not, is exactly what molding is for in a house. That, and ascetics.

"Besides, with this, it's a tax write off." He opened the driver's door and the smaller jump-seat door, pulled out one of those magnetized signs and slapped it on the door. There was his name, that he was a licensed and bonded contractor, and our phone number. "Now it's a business expense." He peeled the sign off. "Now it's a personal rig," he said, putting it back on. "Business expense, personal rig. Business expense, personal rig."

I couldn't help smiling; my "supposedly" adult husband was acting like a kid with a new toy. I placed my palm flat on the door panel. The pickup's glossy, fire engine red color was only a shade or two lighter the fresh polish on my manicured nails. "She sure is pretty," I said, admiringly. "What are we going to name her?"

"Her!" My husband looked like I had just doubled up my fist and hit him in the stomach. "Honey, this is a man's truck. You wanna give your T-bird a tootsie/cutesy girl's name, fine. This bad boy's already got tough name."

Actually, my two-year-old Thunderbird's name wasn't really all that feminine. She was Moria, meaning the wind. I crossed my arms underneath my modest breast, lowered my chin to my chest and scowled at him. "Ok, so what's this 'bad boy' already named?"

"Butch," Brian replied without hesitation. "That's what I've been calling him ever since I drove him off the lot."

"Now that shows a lot of genuine imagination," I scoffed. "You think that up all by yourself?"

Brian almost, but not quite, scowled back at me, but it was going to take more then some good-natured sarcasm from me to dampen the joy he was getting out of his new toy. "Come on, Babycakes, hop in and we'll go for a spin. I'll show you what this bad boy can do."

"I would, Honey," I said, "but I'm waiting for the guy from the computer store to show up."

"Damn, forgot all about that." My husband looked at his watch. "What time's he suppose to get here? It's already 1:40."

"1:30," I answered.

"Okay, we give him five more minutes. He isn't here by then, we're going for a spin in Butch."

"Honey, we need that computer," I argued. "You need it for business, if you're truly serious about becoming an independent, and I could use it for managing the household bills." And also for a few "other" things I had in mind, as soon as I learned the ins and outs of surfing the net.

"Damn!" My husband was clearly heart broken that he couldn't take me out and show off Butch, but he also knew how necessary the computer would be to him for keeping accurate records of estimates, billing, materials, overdue customer accounts bills, and the really important ones, paid up accounts.

A white mini van pulling up in front of the house right then rendered any further discussion mote. The gold lettering on the side read,


I smiled at the whimsical tag line as a large man unfolded himself out the driver's door. He stood up and arched his back. "I got to get me a bigger van one of these days," he said with a open, friendly grin, showing a perfect set of gleaming ivory teeth. Erect, he appeared to me to be about 6' 8', maybe 6'10", 200+ pounds, with broad shoulders, slim hips, and the way his white polo shirt fit him, it left no doubt that his upper torso would be well defined.

But, it wasn't his height or his impressive physique, or his short, crinkly, ink black hair, not even his deep, penetrating onyx eyes that I swear I actually felt wash over me--not once, but twice--which set my stomach roiling. It was the plain, simple fact that this damned good-looking specimen of sensual masculinity was encased in a dark black wrapper. His handsome face and corded neck, his muscular arms and large, thick-fingered hands--all that I could see of his flesh--was the color of hand polished ebony. My fantasy man was standing less then ten feet form me… in the flesh.

His onyx eyes washed over me once more--all to briefly--as he walked up and extended is hand to Brian. "My name's Cal Saul. Sorry I'm a bit late, but my previous stop…" He shrugged his big, wide, powerful shoulders. "Well, she just couldn't seem to get the hang of shutting the thing down when she was done playing with it." He half turned his face to me. "Every time she tried, the damn thing kept coming back up, over and over again."

My breath caught in my throat and I felt myself blush. Was he talking about her computer screen? Or… something else?

"Well, you're here now," Brian said as sternly as he could muster. My husband looked very uncomfortable at that moment. "So, you might as…"

"Right, I might as well get after it," Mr. Saul finished for him with another of his captivating grins. "I'll start unloading the cartons…" He turned his face fully in my direction "…and you can show me where you want me to put it."

Without the aid of my porn, without touching myself, without my husband's hands or white dick substituting in my mind for a black man's hands or cock, my panties became instantly wet from a short, but incredibly hard orgasm. "I… I mean we," I stammered, "we already have a place picked out. We bought a computer desk the other day and it's already right where I… where we want it."

"You sure about that, Ma'am?"

"And just what's that supposed to mean?" my husband quickly demanded. "Mister Saul."

Mr. Saul turned back to Brian. "Just that people don't always take into account certain things when they pick their spot for a computer. Like, you don't want it where the light from a big picture window is going to shine right on the screen. It tends to wash out the imaging. And there has to be one or two electrical sockets close by. With the setup you've ordered I 'm hoping they're GFI surge protected sockets. Otherwise, I'm going to have to install the surge protection before I'll even let you boot up. You're laying out some long, heavy green for this system…" He turned back to me "…and we don't want a sudden surge of power blowing things sky high, do we?"

I managed to murmur, "Ah, no we certainly don't want that." When what I literally wanted to shout was, 'God, Yesssssssss! I want you to power surge the living hell out of me, you luscious ebony god.'

"Then let's get after it," Mr. Saul quipped good-naturedly and headed toward the back of his van. And I, once again, spurted in my now wet panties.

"You purchased top of the line equipment." Mr. Saul said, setting the forth big carton down in the middle of the empty spare bedroom that was about to become our computer room. "State of the art shit, as they say in the trade."

"Something I learned from my father," Brian replied. "Always buy the best you can afford. It's cheaper in the long run."

"You daddy was a smart man," Mr. Saul remarked, surveying the room. "Good choice you made. Plenty of light in this room, none of it directly on where the screen will be, though. Corner unit, and a big one. Good, give you plenty of workspace." He spun the new computer chair--which I had picked out--around. "Good choice in chairs, too, adjustable, seat nicely padded, arms too." He looked right at me. "It'll make those long hours sitting at the keyboard a whole easier on your lower back, and the backs of your thighs and the seat of your pants will be a whole lot more comfortable." He had said pants, but I distinctly heard panties. "Ok, now for the million dollar question, what we got to plug all this sweet hardware into?"

'Me!!!' my mind screamed. "Double GFIs on both adjoining walls," Brian responded snootily. "I'm an independent contractor. I know what's what when it comes to power surge protection."

"Most people don't," Mr. Saul said. "Now, let's get all the pieces parts assembled and fire this bad boy up."

It took over an hour for Brian and Mr. Saul to get everything set up to Mr. Saul's exacting standards. The tower had be just so in its cabinet, the screen precisely aligned on the raised dais, the scanner/printer/copier/fax off to the side, yet reachable for me when I was sitting at the keyboard, and all of the snaking cables hidden neatly out of sight. "Only one thing missing," he said when he was at last satisfied with the setup.

"And what's that?" Brian asked wearily.

Mr. Saul held up a thin cable. "A phone jack to plug this into. You are going to want to go line, right?" He was looking at me when he said this, but turned his eyes to Brian. "For your business. Now days, small business lives or dies on the net. No escaping it."

Brian winced. "Never thought about that. I'll have the Phone Company out here tomorrow to install one."

"No biggie," Mr. Saul said, "we can still boot up and I'll show you some of the ins and outs to running this system. Now, which of you is going to be using it the most?"

Just then, Brian's cell phone beeped. He answered it, listened for about ten seconds, and groaned. "Be there soon as I can. And, if you can think of some way of getting away with it, shoot every fucking one of them." He angrily snapped the cell phone closed. "Fucking painters, they just painted over every piece of molding in that new house. Took me days to get it all stained just the right shade mahogany." His face was beet-red. "If they aren't already dead when I get there, I'll kill 'em all myself." He looked at me. "Babycakes, I hate to do this, but…"

"Honey, I know what you went through to get everything just right." I'd been listening to for nearly a week now. "You go and do what you have to, Mr. Saul can show me the basics of how to get things up and running, then I can show you when you've got some free time."

"Free Time!" Brian's face wasn't red anymore, but it was easy to tell that my husband's was fuming inside. "If they've fucked things up as bad as I think they have, I'll be lucky to have enough free time to take a piss for the next month. Fucking painters!"

Mr. Saul's onyx eyes registered real sympathy. "I've done some finish carpentry myself and I know what you're saying," he said as Brian headed for the door. "You need any help taking them fucking painters out, call home and I'll come running."

Brian turned and looked him up and down. "I may just do that. You look like you could handle three or four of them all by yourself." Brian left the room and I could hear his boot heels stomping across the front room and then the door slammed behind him.

"Guess it's just you and me, Ma'am," Mr. Saul said with a grin.

"Guess it is, Mr. Saul," I replied. And I was damned glad we hadn't taken the plastic of the chair seat, because the way hie onyx eyes were looking right into mine was making the seat of my panties extremely wet. "And, please stop calling me Ma'am. It makes me feel like someone's doddering mother. My name's Faith"

"Fair enough, Faith," he said. "But that means you have to stop calling me Mister Saul. Faith and Cal is so much… friendlier, don't you think?"

I felt like I was going to melt under his intense gaze. "Ah… yes I do, Cal." I liked the taste of his name on my tongue.

Cal spent the next couple of hours showing me how to boot up, how to send something to the printer and how to scan something into the computer, how to build folders to store things in, and a few more ins and outs to navigating within the system he had so painstakingly installed. All the while he hovered over me, so close it felt like I was being cloaked in a sexual black shroud, occasionally, and more often then he needed to, reaching around me to finger the keys himself. Even when his body wasn't actually touching mine, I could still feel his presence. I could smell his muskiness and it was all I could do to concentrate on what he was teaching me.

"You're not bad, Faith," Cal said, standing arching his back. "You pick things up real fast. You get that jack installed first thing in the morning, we'll be able to go online and I can show you how to surf the net."

"But, tomorrow's Saturday," I said sadly. "Surely you give yourself the weekends off."

"Generally do, Faith," he answered. "But, I do make exceptions…" He winked down at me "…'specially for pretty ladies."

I blushed. "If ah… if the painters screwed things up as bad as Brian said, he'll ah… he'll be there all day tomorrow, probably late into the evening. Mean's it'll be just you and me again, Cal."

"That it will, Faith. That it most certainly will."

I didn't want him to leave, but not knowing when Brian might return home, I didn't want to stay here alone with Cal too much longer. I was having too goddamn much trouble controlling my want for him, my hunger for his hands and lips on my naked body, my lust for what I knew he had for me inside his kaki pants. "I just wish I didn't have to wait until tomorrow to get online, Cal. There are some ah… some sites a… a friend gave me I'd like to check out."

"Well, there is a way of hooking you up temporarily. Where's the closest phone jack located?"

"In our bedroom," I answered. "Across the hall, right beside the bed."

Cal looked across the hall, eyed the distance from the side of our bed to where the computer desk sat, and nodded. "Yeah, I got enough to it." He dug into his black toolbox and pulled out a long phone cord and a roll of duck tape. "Show me where to plug it in, Faith."

'Which, that skinny phone cord, or your big black cock?' I mentally replied as I got out of the chair and showed him where the phone jack was located beside the bed. 'Me, Cal, a bed…?' Ten seconds more of this unbeatable combination and both the bed and myself were going to be getting used, and with Cal's impressive physique, I was willing to bet we would both be getting used hard and long. When I wanted was to have Cal rip my clothes off, throw me on that inviting bed, climb on and fuck the livin' shit out of me--hard and repeatedly, I reluctantly stepped out of the bedroom

Cal plugged the phone cord in, then taped it down across the carpet all the way into the computer room and plugged it into the modem port. "All right, Faith," he said, his intoxicating presence once again hovering over me, "we're going online using my account." He showed me which keys to punch to access his account. "You're going to have to get a server of your own, but you can use mine for tonight. I'll call and set it up for you if you want."

"That would be very nice, Cal. Thank you."

"Hey, for pretty ladies…" He leaned across my back "…I've been known to make all sorts of exceptions." He took my hand in his and together we and hit the enter key. "Now, pick out one of those site you want to visit, Faith."

His muskiness was driving me right up the wall. "I'm… I'm not sure I can, Cal. Not… not without searching high and low for the list I made of them. Do you know of any interesting sites we can visit?"

"I know a lot of interesting sites to visit, Faith. But, you gotta understand something, the www. world is a scary place to go roamin' around in. If you're not careful, no telling what sort of site you'll find yourself in."

"But, you're here to see that I don't get into something too scary." I turned my eyes up to his. "Aren't you… Cal?"

His onyx eyes bored into mine, like he was looking right into my soul. "Faith, you may be a very pretty, petite woman, but I got a feeling it's going to take more then landing in the wrong sort of site to scare you off."

"And ah… and what sort of sites are the wrongs ones for little ol' me to be visiting, Cal?"

"Sure you want to find that out, Faith."

It wasn't my mind answering this time, it was me. "God, yesssssss!"

Cal looked deep into my eyes for a long moment, then nodded, punched in an address, hit enter, and a few seconds later I was looking at a bleached blonde woman happily sucking a huge black cock on a banner advertisement for an interracial site. "Should we back out of here, Faith?"

Staring at that big black cock in that blonde's mouth, I lost all the resolve and self control I had left. "You back us out of here, and I'll…" My hands were shaking so badly I had to clench them into fists, and still the tremors were shaking my body. "Cal, I swear I'll…"

Cal quickly punched in some numbers and we were instantly inside the site. "What'll it be, Faith, pics, movies, stories? It's all in here for you, even got a chat room where you can talk in real time to black men." He took my trembling chin in his big powerful black hand and turned my face to his. "What do you want, Faith?"

"You…" I was having trouble finding my voice. "You know what I want, Cal."

"Huh, uh, you've got to tell me, Faith."

I was lost. I knew it, and he knew it, too. "Help me, Cal."

Cal took my hand and placed it against the bulge in his crotch. "All the help I'm going to give you, Faith," he said coldly. "Now, you got to make up your mind if this is where you really want to go." He tightened his hand around mine, which was grasping that bigger-then-I-had-imagined-it-would-be bulge. "And then, I have to hear you say it." His cock was growing in my hand. "Say it, Faith. Tell me exactly what it is you want here."

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