Miss Emmy and Me

"For all you know," she continued, "he might be gay. How would you like that—to wake up and find out you are married to a guy that only likes to do it with his buddies? Then that new dildo of yours would be your only friend."

"Oh that wouldn't be good, would it? But how do I go about this? I can't just walk up to him and say, 'Let's fuck'."

Well, with some guys that would work just fine, but I kind of think your fiancé may not be ready for that—not if he's been telling you he wants to wait until you are married."

"So what should I do?"

"When are you next getting together?"

I'm having dinner with Richard and his parents at their country club tomorrow night. I'm going to drive over and meet them all at the club."

"Okay. Here's what you do. Park in the back of the lot when you get there and then pull the valve stems on two of your tires before you go in. You know how to do that I assume?

I giggled. "Yes, we did that one night when I was still in high school. My good friend wanted to get even with the girl who had beat her out for Homecoming Queen."

"Okay, well throw the valve stems in the bushes when you do it. The tires will be really flat when you come out and you can't put the car back in service by changing only one flat."

"Oookay? Then what?"

"Richey will volunteer to give you a ride home. As soon as you leave the club slide across the seat so you're next to him, your thigh right against his. Put your hand on his thigh. Just hold it there, massaging it for a couple of miles. Then slide it up the inside of his thigh. By that time he should be getting an erection. You want to start massaging it. Then, when it's good and hard pull his fly down and get his cock out in the open so you can stroke it. Tell him if he will pull over someplace you will suck his cock. If he's anything like normal, he'll have the car off the road in a secluded spot in no time at all."

"Suck his cock?"

She laughed at me. "Oh Lisa, you have so much to learn. Didn't your mother teach you . . ." She shook her head and said, "No I s'pose not."

I stared at her in shock.

"That's one of the things I miss about being dead. I so loved to suck cocks when I was alive. You drop down on your knees and open a guy's trousers and then fish his cock out. It's best if it's a surprise for him and it's still soft. I liked to just suck it into my mouth and caress it with my tongue as it got bigger and harder until it was filling my mouth or more. I never could take it down my throat—too good a gag reflex I guess. But no one ever complained. I would just slobber saliva all over his shaft and then stroke the part I couldn't fit in my mouth with a twisting motion. You're so in control when you're sucking a man's cock. You can work him up to the edge and then back off and then up to the edge again. Of course if you're not careful, he'll lose control and spray his cum in your mouth, or if the timing is wrong, all over your frock. That can be embarrassing, but if he just comes in my mouth—yum, so good. I liked swallowing everything a guy had to give me."

"Really," I said. "You let guys . . . shoot their . . . (I couldn't find the right word ). . . their . . . "

"I believe 'cum' is the word you are searching for dear," she said. "There are other words, but cum will do."

I stared in silence.

"Okay, I admit, it's a bit of an acquired taste, but it was easier to learn to enjoy than Bourbon." (Not liking Bourbon in our family was a cultural travesty).

She was on a roll now. "The thing I really liked about cock sucking was the tactile sensations. A guy's cock, once it's fully erect is so soft and smooth and still just like an iron bar, and it's warm, sometimes hot."

"And one more thing girl," she said. "You don't need to suck him until he blows. Just get him good and hard and then let him stick that tool in your pussy. If you liked that dildo your roommate loaned you, you're going to love the real thing."

"But we're going to wait until we are married."

Miss Emmy looked at me in shock. "Oh my god," she said. "That's a mistake dear. Such a mistake. Don't buy a pig in a poke. You need to find out if he's any good before you get committed. That was the mistake I made. I had no idea what I was getting into. I just went along with what my Daddy said to do like a good little 18 year old virgin. Big, big mistake."

Then, as the ghosts in my family do, she just faded into thin air.

* * * * * *

I didn't see Miss Emmy again for several months. Then one evening, just as I was again preparing for bed, she appeared.

"Hello Lisa. I thought I should drop in and check up on you. How are things going?"

I knew, of course, she meant my engagement with Richard. But I played dumb a little and said, "Oh just fine."

"So you're still engaged to that cracker from Bolivar county?"

"He's not a cracker," I said. It was amazing how quickly Miss Emmy could get under my skin. "He's a good man." Then I paused for a moment letting silence fill the room.

"Just not the right man for me."

"I heard that your engagement had fallen apart."

"We mutually decided to call it off," I said sounding a little defensive.

"So he wasn't so good in bed," Miss Emmy stated. It wasn't a question, just her conclusion.

"Oh, he was alright," I responded. "But you were right. His dick was a little small compared to some of the guys I've been out with since." I laughed.

"Oh, so you took my advice and tried sex with some of the darkies?"

"Miss Emmy, I'll not have you using that word."

"Oh right, I forgot. What 's the right word again?"

"People."

"Right. So you've been fucking some of your Father's people?"

"No. And they're not my 'Father's people. We don't own them."

"Hmmm," she said. "Maybe you should have your old boyfriend explain the economics of sharecropping to you. But never mind. If you haven't been fucking 'your Father's people,' who have you been fucking?"

"Oh just a few guys I've been dating up in Memphis."

"And are any of them . . . hmmm . . . how shall I say this? Are any of them people?"

"Of course they're people, all of them."

"Lisa, having a conversation with you is so difficult," she sighed. "Have you been fucking any black men, is what I want to know?"

"Yes, some of them."

"And was I right about the sex with them?"

"Some of them have big cocks and some don't."

"But bigger than Richard?" she asked.

"Yes, I told you he was small, well actually tiny. But that's not why the engagement fell apart. If it had just been the fucking, I could have lived a life time with Richard."

"Really?"

"Oh god, Miss Emmy," I said, moving into full confession mode now. "That man could eat pussy better than any man or woman I've ever met."

"Oh, so you do women now too? You've been very busy since I last saw you."

I laughed. "That's true. Actually I've been kind of a slut. But you told me I needed to find out, so I have been."

"Good for you girl. And what have you learned."

"That I like sex. I like sex a lot, and a life without it would be awful."

"But if sex with Richard was so good, what happened to your engagement."

"Oh a bunch of things. First after a couple of dinners at the country club with Richard and his parents, I concluded that everything you predicted would have happened. I wasn't just marrying Richard. I was marrying his family, and I didn't like them. I sure as hell didn't want to live with them for twenty or thirty years. Richard's not a bad guy, but his family? No way."

"Anything else?"

I looked a little sheepish. "Yes. Once I took your advice and started fooling around a bit, I decided I was having so much fun, I just wasn't ready to settle down with Richard, or anyone else."

She looked at me in silence, awaiting more detail.

"I like being a slut. I'm having fun. It took me awhile to get started, but sometimes now I am screwing three or four different people in a week. The guy that runs daddy's farm equipment franchise—he may be forty, but when he cums, it's a flood. I like to suck him and watch him squirt when he cums."

Now she laughed. "Yeah, it is fun isn't it. That's what I was doing in Paris until I got knocked up and had to come back to this stultifying place."

I shrugged.

"So how hard was it to get rid of Richard?"

"Oh not so hard. He had found somebody new down at LSU that he thought he was in love with. He was scared to death when he came to me and confessed about his new love, but since I was being far from true to him, I let him down easy. I told him, I had someone else too. I just didn't tell him how many someone elses I had. I gave him his ring back and told him he should sell it rather than giving it to the new girl. We decided that we hadn't really been in love—that we were just in love with the idea of being in love. Of course, our parents on both sides went ballistic, but they will get over it."

"So what's next?" she asked. "You don't want to be Blanche Dubois, and just sleep around forever, at least not in a sleepy little town like this."

"Oh Miss Emmy, I'm so excited. I'm going to Paris this spring. Daddy has agreed to fund me for a year of further art studies in Paris. Actually I think he and Mommy just want to get me out of this town before I embarrass them anymore than I already have. There was a bit of a scandal about the equipment franchise manager. I did him one day at lunch and we got sloppy and he sprayed his cum all over my blouse. That wouldn't have been a big deal, except that I ran into his wife on my way out the door. It was awkward."

Miss Emmy smiled and said, "I'm sure it was."

"So I'm off to Paris next month."

"Go for it girl. There is a whole world out there that is so much more than you will have if you stay here." Then she just disappeared again.

* * * * * * * *

I live in Paris now, with my husband and three children. When my engagement to Richard fell apart and I nearly got caught blowing one of Daddy's managers, my family was more than willing to fund my request to spend a year in Paris furthering my art studies. I never came back. I fell in love with Paris, so open and free compared to Mississippi.

I own an art gallery. My husband of 18 years is a banker, and a black man. Well half black. His mother was Senegalese and his father French. His family owns some large agricultural properties in western France and a vineyard and winery in Burgundy, but they are nothing like the Mississippi plantation I grew up on. The family all lives in Paris and the ag properties are run for them by professional managers, just like any other commercial business would be.

We have a close relationship with my in-laws, but it is nothing like my relationship with my in-laws would have been had I stayed in Mississippi and married Richard. Here we live in the same city, but we live apart. We see each other regularly, but we still maintain very independent and separate lives. They have their friends and we have ours. There is no country club as there would have been in Bolivar county.

We go back to Mississippi every second or third year. After all my family needs to know my husband and my children. I'm not really estranged. Just independent. But after about three days in Mississippi I can't wait to return to Paris. The culture in rural Mississippi is so narrow and, . . . well, smothering. The family is pleasant to my husband and treats him with the respect due a man of his accomplishments, but you can always feel a certain . . . it's hard to find the right word. I guess it's 'disdain.'

Of course when we are about town or at the country club (my parents principal social venue) the looks we get are classically racist. No one says anything, especially at the club, because, after all my parents own most of the town, or at least the parts that are worth owning. But still, it' a bit of a double take—"what's he doing here? Oh, he's with them. That's their French son-in-law." They would never say anything . . . but they are thinking it.

As I said at the outset, Miss Emmy's visit changed my life, and I'm so glad it did. Oh, and I suppose you want to know if I have any affairs with people other than my spouse. Of course I do, and so does he. Not all the time, but enough to keep life interesting. It is France after all.