Chapter 2

She gripped his prong and brought it to her pussy lips. She felt it dig in. It was a now or never moment. She swabbed the tip up and down her slippery slot and looked at him.

“You had better be good to me,” she warned. She didn’t suggest what the punishment might be if he was not what she considered good to her.

He didn’t worry. Pretty soon she wasn’t going to be thinking about anything but his prick inside her.

“Don’t just sit down on it,” he said. “I’m too long for that right now. We’ll work on getting it all in later.”

“You’ll never get it all in,” she grunted as she fed herself five inches. That was where Rick had stopped. She felt stuffed. When Rick had put his cock in her she felt it. When she pushed down on this man, she felt like she was being pushed apart. It was difficult to put into mental words. Her hand was in the way so she moved it and let her own body weight skewer her on his black pole.

“Ohhhhh, fuuuuuck,” she groaned as parts of her pussy that had never been touched ... got touched.

“Easy, now,” he said, cupping her breasts and squeezing her nipples gently. “Don’t hurt yourself, now. Lean forward.”

She did and the incredible, intense pressure eased. She let her belly sag and moved, only to find a different kind of pressure. This pressure was on her clit, where it was pinched between his rock-hard abs and his equally hard penis. She sensed, rather than felt, an orgasm hovering in the distance, like some denizen of the night keeping away from a campfire. She rubbed harder and the orgasm pounced, before she was really ready for it.

She froze, her whole body going rigid. His pinching fingers twisted her nipples and squeezed them almost painfully. That melted her and she pushed back down as the orgasm flooded through her. It was the first one her own fingers or sex toy hadn’t created in her since Rick died, and it was devastating. She cried, sobbing as her grief for Rick flooded her along with the orgasm.

He pulled her down and kissed her cheek.

“There, there,” he cooed. “You’ll be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

“I miss him so much,” she bawled.

“He wishes he was here,” said Bob. He wondered if it was over, if she’d rise off of him in the memory of her dead husband and eschew sex forever.

“No he doesn’t,” she sniffled. “All he cared about when he was alive was gambling. He’d rather gamble than fuck me.”

“Then he was an idiot and he can’t wish he was here, because he’s likely in Hell,” said Bob.

She rose up and red-rimmed eyes stared down at him. She had more prick in her than ever before and she felt more under her clit.

“When I get there, I’ll tell him I fucked you and you liked mine better than his.” He grinned.

She slowly dragged her pussy along his cock. He was impossibly hard, for a man with a penis that long. She pushed back and groaned.

“You can cum as many times as you want, doing that. Just don’t push down on it too hard. You’re not ready for that, yet.”

“Not ready for what?”

“Are we here to fuck, or talk and have tea?”

She pulled almost off of him and dangled a nipple on his lips.

“Suck me,” she ordered.

“There’s no milk there, yet,” he said.

Her mind overlooked that “yet” but she’d think about it later.

“Suck them!” she barked.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said.

He gripped her sides, just under her arm pits, and pulled so she couldn’t get away. Then he chewed her left nipple. He didn’t bite it with his teeth, but his lips clamped down hard while he sucked. His teeth got involved, but not in a way that hurt at all. She gasped and instinct made her move back, filling her pussy again. She was suddenly so full of energy she had to work some off, so she slid forward and back, over and over again, as fast as she could. She wrenched an orgasm from her clit and bared her teeth as it bit her like his mouth was biting her nipples.

She kept going, but stopped counting after four. Rick had never given her four orgasms at one time. Nobody ever had. But she kept going. He stopped sucking to growl, “Honey, you got a snapping pussy and you’re gonna make me cum.”

She went harder, if anything. She felt like she was killing something and she didn’t want it to die. She needed to stop and let it rest and recuperate. She couldn’t stop, though, until the insane prick inside her softened, and was no good for orgasms anymore.

“Ooooo, yeah,” he grunted.

She paused as a glow of heat filled her from the inside out. He was cumming.

No. He was gushing.

She had barely felt it when Rick climaxed. Now she could feel Bob’s cum squirting out of her, where her pussy lips clamped on his cock. She remembered those balls and grunted as she clenched his cock. She didn’t know why she did it. She would have been horrified ... or at least upset ... if she knew her subconscious mind had already decided not to let this magnificent penis go to waste in the future.

It was hers. So her muscles clamped down to assert her claim.

She couldn’t think of things on that plane, however. His hot cum energized her and she decided to get one more quick one before he got completely soft.

Except he didn’t get soft.

He did get less hard, but only enough that she could tell the difference. Now, when she dragged her clit along the bottom, it felt like her clit was harder than his cock, and was digging a trough in his penis. That trough fit around her little organ perfectly, rubbing it on three sides. She couldn’t mash her clit anymore, but the sensation was even more ridiculous than before.

“How?” she gasped.

“I told you I don’t go soft until I cum three times,” he said. “That was one, and you sucked it out of me before I was ready. I’m gonna have to be careful with you.”

Again, her mind missed the hint that he thought there would be a continuing relationship between them. All she could think about was that she could keep going.

The orgasms she had now felt different, probably because the penis in her felt different, somehow. They weren’t as intense. They were more like sinking into a tub full of hot water and bubble bath. Because he was softer, when she rotated, his penis rotated with her and did not resist being moved. At the same time it stayed hard enough to fill her completely, as if her pussy was a thin rubber glove and his cock was a big hand. She didn’t pay attention to how long she went. She just kept chasing one more of those delicious, warm orgasms. It wasn’t like any sex she’d ever had, real or imagined.

Suddenly she fell to one side. She squawked as she bounced off the dirty mattress with her shoulder.

“You need to rest,” he said.

She realized she was gasping and imagined her O2 being below 90, because she felt light-headed.

“What?”

“You can’t go that hard without resting,” he said.

She looked at him and blinked. Suddenly, everything her mind had shoved to one side, because it was too busy having fun, rushed into her mind.

She had used this man for ... how long? She looked at her watch. She blinked.

“Shit! We’ve been doing this for a whole hour! I have to go get the girls!”

She sat up and looked at the man lying beside her. He looked relaxed. His fucking penis was still hard, lying from his groin to his navel. She bit her lip to keep from saying they weren’t finished.

“Go get ‘em,” he said. “I’m pretty happy. It’s been a long time since I made a woman feel that good. My leg doesn’t even hurt.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. It was instinctive. They had not kissed before this, but she felt like she had to do that and, oddly, it felt normal to feel his lips pressing against hers.

“Thank you,” she said.

“There’s lots more of that if you ever want to go again.”

“I can’t think about that right now. I have to clean up and go get the girls.”

“Then I’ll see you around,” he said.

He stood and, without getting dressed, limped to the gate that led to his yard.

The last she saw of him was his tight, black ass.

He had a good one.

Once she picked up the girls her duties as a mom forced earlier events out of her mind. It wasn’t until she went to bed that she could think about the episode. When she was in the shower she was annoyed that the details escaped her. She knew she’d had sex with Bob Wagoner and she knew it was, undeniably, the best sex she’d ever had, but she just couldn’t remember the actual feelings she had experienced as all those orgasms had pummeled her.

And they had pummeled her. There was no other word for it. When she had gotten up she had felt light-headed as she stumbled into the house. She had gone naked, like he had, and taken a quick shower. Her mind kept trying to come up with an explanation as to how a middle-age man she barely knew, and who was not her type in any way, shape, or form, could affect her so strongly. Yes, he was longer and thicker than any other man she’d had, but size alone couldn’t be that important. Could it? No. There had been something else, something intangible that was very important. It was so important, in fact, that she already knew she would have to investigate it further.

He had said there was more where that came from.

“There had better be,” she muttered as she left the house.

She felt relatively recovered when she picked up the girls and thanked Mrs. Hibbard, apologizing for picking them up so late.

“Nonsense,” said the old, black woman. “They’re much better behaved than my own granddaughters. Leave them with me any time.”

She felt lucky that she had seen the faded, hand-made sign that said “Childcare” in the window of Mrs. Hibbard’s house and inquired. The old woman had been so sweet and so accommodating. And she didn’t charge much, either. Now she “knew” another black person. But that was a whole other can of worms.

What was she going to do? She knew she’d go crazy if she couldn’t remember the best sex of her life. But she couldn’t go to him and say, “Can we do that again?” It would be too embarrassing ... humiliating. It would make her feel like a slut. It would give him the wrong idea.

She had to use her dildo for an entire hour before she could get to sleep. It was easy to cum because she thought about him and the open air and that filthy mattress the whole time. She felt like she’d snuck off with a cousin while they were at a family reunion, and let him pop her cherry. That image was just as ridiculous as this whole thing. She had done it only to escape having to do the same thing with French.

Was she glad she’d chosen that way?

Hell, yes. There was not a hint of doubt in her mind. Letting Bob Wagoner get her on that mattress was one of the best things she’d ever done.

And that was ridiculous, too!

Her last thought, as consciousness left her, was: “He stays as hard as my dildo and he’s longer and warmer.”

She heard noises outside the next morning and looked out to see the hood of her car up and a man’s body leaning in. She saw by how the left leg was twisted that it was Bob. She took a deep breath and went out to see what was going on.

“Hey,” she said, noncommittally.

“Hey,” he returned. “Saw you trying to start it and giving up. Thought I’d take a look at it.”

“It’s old,” she said. “It’s a piece of junk.”

“It’s not a piece of junk,” he said. “In fact, it’s in pretty good shape. I put my analyzer on it and it said you had a bad O2 sensor. I just got finished putting a new one in, but I don’t have the keys to try it.”

Feeling a surge of hope, Lonny ran into the house and returned with the keys. She saw Bob’s eyes watch her bouncing breasts, but decided she didn’t care. If the car worked she might let him see them bare again.

It caught instantly and roared to life. She felt an almost orgasmic sense of relief. She could get to a job interview scheduled for later that day. She turned the car off and got out.

“I’ll tell you what I was thinking before I tried starting the car, but you have to let me pay for the repair, first.”

“Deal,” he said.

“How much?” she asked.

He looked up at the sky and began counting on his fingers. She felt her glow of hope fade.

“Well,” he said. “The part was thirty-two dollars. And my labor was ... when have I ever charged you labor, Lonny?”

The hope flooded back.

“I’ll give you back thirty-two of the money you gave me,” she said.

“Fine. Now. What were you thinking?”

She blushed.

“I saw you watching my boobs bounce as I ran out here with the keys. I thought that if you’d actually fixed the car I’d let you see them again.”

“Oh hell yeah,” he said. He tried to dance a jig but his leg collapsed and he fell against the car, cursing.

She helped him stand.

“How much physical therapy did you do on that leg?” she asked.

“Two days,” he said. “It hurt like fire so I quit.”

“Bob, if you had finished your physical therapy you might be able to walk almost normally.”

“They said the same thing, but it hurt too much.”

“Okay,” she said. “How about this? For every day you go to physical therapy, I’ll let you see my boobs.”

He squinted at her.

He reached into his pants and pulled out a wad of cash. He handed it to her.

“Four hundred,” he said. “I believe you still owe me a blow job.”

“You’ll get your blow job,” she said, “But I want you to go to physical therapy.”

“I get to see them and feel them,” he countered.

“As long as you know you can’t take advantage of me,” she said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you can’t try to seduce me.”

“You mean get you in bed?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, I’d be dead if I didn’t think about doing that. You are even better than I thought you’d be. You might even be the best.”

“That’s an awful thing to say,” she said. “It makes a woman feel like she’s just a thing, on a shelf, and that you own her.”

“Do you think that’s what I want to do ... own you?”

She shook her head while thinking about it. Her head knew the answer was ‘no’ before her mind did. After she thought about it she answered him verbally.

“I will admit you are very different from other men I have known. It is obvious you care about the woman you’re with and I apologize for saying something insensitive.”

He grinned.

“Girly, you are a priceless fuck, and if there was any way I could own you and keep you forever, I’d do it in a heartbeat. And you could bring those darling little girls, too.”

“You’re an asshole!” she snapped.

“Now you’re getting the way of things,” he said. “My thirty-two dollars?” He held out his hand, palm up.

She handed him two twenties from the roll he’d given her and told him to “keep the fucking change!” She thought, very briefly, about returning the whole roll and telling him she’d sucked as much of his dick as she was going to suck.

But she didn’t.

She knew he’d been prodding her on purpose. But she also heard in his voice a kernel of truth that made her spine tingle. He wanted her. She might not remember what it felt like, but she knew he had played her, like a violin virtuoso playing with a Stradivarius. And she had to admit that the money in her hand meant she might let him do it again and she felt like stretching and looking more like a violin. She shook that feeling off and looked at him.

“I have a job interview this afternoon. Now I’ll be able to get there. Thank you,” she said.

“Aww, and I was hoping for another one of those sweet kisses,” he said.

“In front of the whole neighborhood?” She raised one eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I s’pose you’re right.” He winked. “We wouldn’t want the neighbors to think I was slumming.”

She started to yell, but he reached and cupped one breast, lifting it and then letting it go back down. She darted looks in all directions and then realized her body had screened his actions from view.

“You can kiss me later,” he cackled. “Right now I got to go call those physical therapy folks and see if I can start again.”

“I want to know the name of the therapist,” said Lonny. “I’ll talk to him or her, from time to time, to make sure you’re on the up and up.”

“I get to see ‘em and touch ‘em and suck ‘em,” he said.

She put a stiff finger in his chest. How could something so crude make butterflies dance behind her belly button?

“You just make that call,” she growled.

As she drove home Lonny reviewed what had happened to her, lately.

There had been helplessness, and loss and mourning. There had been financial worries. There would still be bill collectors, but at least now she would be able to give them something and get them off her back. She had a running car. She had a great babysitter for the girls.

And, recently, she’d had the best sex of her life. She couldn’t remember the details of it – didn’t know what to ask him to do next time - but she knew it was the best sex of her life.

All the bad stuff, the negative stuff, went back to Rick. Rick had given her two daughters. Other than that, he hadn’t given them much.

Now, though, she was smiling. Best of all was that she had a job! It was at what her father would have called an old folks home rather than a hospital, but it was a nursing job and she would be helping people again. Not only that, there had been a hiring bonus because she was already certified as an LPN and the salary was better than she had hoped for. She started tomorrow, and she worked during the day, while the kids were in school. She wasn’t sure how it was going to work. Her hours were six in the morning to three in the afternoon. School didn’t start until eight-thirty, but let out at three-thirty. So she could pick them up. But how was she going to get them to school?

The school was only a block away and Emma was seven. If it had been a decent neighborhood Emma could walk to school. But it wasn’t a decent neighborhood and it wouldn’t be fair to make Emma be responsible for her five-year-old sister. Beth was a good girl, most of the time, but she was also a five-year-old, which meant she could get stubborn and go off on a tangent, sometimes. No, letting them navigate even one block like that wasn’t fair to them and was too dangerous.

She decided to park the car and walk to get them from school. She still wanted to see what the walk was like, and what had to be walked past. She got honked at three times and cat-called at twice in the ten minutes it took her to make the trip. On the way back, with a little girl on each hand, only one man yelled to tell her to suck his dick. She knew nobody would do that to the girls, but they would be helpless if some pervert snatched them.

They had to walk by Bob’s and he was sitting on his porch, rocking in an old chair and smoking a pipe. On impulse she turned with the girls and went to climb the two steps up to his level.

“Good afternoon, Mister Wagoner,” she said. “I do not believe you have met my daughters, officially. This is Beth,” she lifted Beth’s hand, “and this is Emma. Emma is seven and Beth is five.”

“Well, how do you do, ladies,” said Bob, leaning forward and showing his white teeth. He brought each girl’s hand to barely touch his lips. “Aren’t you just about the prettiest things I’ve seen in a coon’s age.”

“What’s a coon’s age?” asked Emma. She had seen this man when she was playing in the back yard and had always been curious about him. He had waved at her one time, but never spoken.

“Well, it refers to a raccoon. Do you know what a raccoon is?” She nodded. “Well, I had me a pet raccoon one time and he lived almost fifteen years. That’s a long time, when you’re a raccoon. So when somebody says a coon’s age, they mean a long time.”

“You didn’t have a pet raccoon,” said Emma, firmly. When her father had died her life had changed radically. Her memories of “Daddy” were misty. She had been required to act older than she was and help her mama more. She had toughened up in the process, even though she wasn’t aware of it. Now that toughness displayed itself, surprising Lonny. “Raccoons are wild animals and they live in the woods.”

“Emma!” said Lonny. “Don’t you sass Mister Wagoner.”

“She wasn’t sassing,” said Bob. He looked at Emma. “You can call me Bob, Emma. We were just having a conversation and had a little disagreement, didn’t we? I have a picture of me and Bandit. That’s what we called him, because he looked like he had a mask on, you know.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Lonny.

“I want Emma, here, to be my friend, so I want her to know I don’t tell lies. Friends don’t lie to each other. Isn’t that right, Emma?”

Now the little girl was out of her depth. Grownups didn’t actually talk to her, much. Except for teachers. They talked all the time. And this man’s skin was shiny-black. He sounded like a regular man, but somebody had burned his skin as black as night. She felt less confident when he stood up. He got a cane from nearby and used it to hobble into the house. Over his shoulder he looked at her and said, “Don’t go away. I want you to see Bandit.”

When he disappeared Emma looked up at her mother, who was looking down at her.

“You shouldn’t be impolite, Emma,” said Lonny.

“Was I being impolite? I just said he wasn’t telling the truth.”

“Well, it’s impolite to call a stranger a liar.”

“Why? If he tells lies, then he’s a liar, right?”

“What about me?” piped Beth. “I’m not a liar.”

Lonny was saved from further conversation when Bob limped back out. He had a framed picture in his hand. When he showed it to the trio they saw a little, black boy holding what was undeniably a baby raccoon in his arms.

“His mama died and so I took care of him until he grew up. He followed me everywhere and even slept on my bed.”

“Why did his mama die?” asked Emma.

Bob didn’t want to tell them a hunter had shot the kit’s mother and then brought the kit home as a sort of souvenir. Bob’s father had asked for it because he thought it might be abused by the man who had captured it, such as using it to train the dogs used to tree raccoons on hunts.

“She had the Covid, I suppose,” said Bob, ruefully, rightly understanding that was a concept this girl would grasp.

“I wish I had a raccoon,” said Emma, suddenly on good terms with this strange man.

“Don’t wish too hard,” said Bob. “Bandit lived up to his name. He stole pert near everything he could get his grubby little hands on. He hid stuff away and it took us days to find it, sometimes.”

The conversation seemed to stall, as it pertained to Bob and the girls. He looked up at their mother and winked.

“Hi,” he said. “I have something for you.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. When he handed it to her she read “Stone Hills Physical Therapy” on it. A name was below the facility name and a phone number.

She looked up from the card to find him grinning from ear to ear.

“Miss Emily said you can call her any time. I told her you were my nurse, sort of.”

“Are you his nurse, mama?” asked Emma, looking up.

“I’m going to be keeping an eye on him,” said Lonny. “He hurt his leg in an accident and he needs somebody to look at it sometimes.”

“I’m sorry,” said Emma, looking at Bob.

“Well, thank you, but you don’t need to be sorry. It wasn’t something you caused, and anyway it was a long time ago.”

“We need to get home,” said Lonny. “I just wanted them to know who you are.”

“I know who he is,” said Emma. “He’s the man who fixed the dryer and under the sink.”

“I am!” said Bob, grinning widely. “I am honored you remember me.”

“You’re super black,” said Emma, innocently. “Most of the kids in my class are just brown, but people call them black. You are actually black.”

“Emma,” groaned Lonny.

Bob waved at her.

“When God makes a human he has to put us in an oven, to bake up, you know. If he pulls you out soon your skin is like yours. If he pulls you out later, the skin is like your friends at school. Sometimes he forgets to pull you out and then you look like me.”

“Is that why you like to lie out in the sun, Mommy?” asked the girl, looking up. “Do you want to get cooked more?”

“Sometimes I feel a little underdone,” said Lonny, deciding to play along. “Now, let’s go home, girls.”

“Bye, mister man,” said Emma, gaily.

“Bye, mister man,” Beth repeated.

“His name is Bob,” groaned Lonny.

“That’s not what you called him when we got here. You called him Mister something.”

“She called me Mister Wagoner,” said Bob. “It came from the name for men back in the Wild West days who drove wagons across the prairie. I’ll tell you all about it the next time we can talk. I told you to call me Bob, remember?”

“Come on, my darlings,” said Lonny.

She gave Bob an air kiss and he pushed his cheek out with the tip of his tongue and moved it around. His actions were coarse and rude, but his smile was genuine and warm.

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Blacking the Widow

Lubrican

21,577 Words.

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