"You're going to go far, Curt baby," she crooned. "Just play your cards right and you can have it all." Her hands began fumbling with his belt. He heard the rasp of the descending zipper and felt her hand snaking inside to grasp his cock, and he groaned at the feel of her knowing touch, her fingertips running lightly over the velvety underside of the now rampant shaft, up to the tingling crown. Not nearly as impressive as Ike's huge, well worn cock, but every bit as hard, Harriett remarked to herself. No impotence problem here. His little lady just doesn't know which buttons to push.
The redhead knelt in front of him, taking his trousers and undershorts down to his knees in one smooth motion. Grasping the pulsing cock, she looked up into his eyes and lowered her mouth until her lips closed over the purple head, hearing Curt's sharp intake of breath as his penis slid all the way to the back of her throat, and his heavy scrotum nuzzled her chin.
After lunch and more cocktails than Kim cared to count, she, Ike, and Khumalo left the restaurant in a taxi and returned to the office building that housed Manson amp; Harvey International. Kim got back to the office feeling relaxed and content. She just couldn't wait to get home and hear Curt tell her about what was happening with his business. Of course, she wasn't supposed to know, so it would be hell for her not to be able to mention it until he did if it wasn't the first thing he told her about when he came home.
When they got to the front office where Harriett usually worked as a receptionist but was strangely absent Ike stopped at the door to the room where Kim had "entertained" Henry Manson. It was directly in front of Harriett's desk and Kim felt oddly uncomfortable to be stopped here in this empty office between these two large men.
"Kim," Ike said sweetly. "Would you please go in and prepare some drinks for Bernard and yourself while he and I have a few words?"
Kim looked up and swallowed hard. Did this mean what she thought it meant? Was she expected to wait in the bedroom for Khumalo, the way she had waited for Manson just a few hours before? Fixing drinks? Hadn't they all had enough to drink? But Ike could see she balked.
He said very, very sweetly, "Now."
Kim could tell he was serious, so without any more hesitation, she turned and went through the door.
Ike smiled when she had pulled it shut. "She's a good girl," he said to Khumalo. "Just give her a few minutes to calm down."
"She's worth a hundred tons of ivory," the African said. "If I could take her back with me I could get a million dollars for her from someone I know with a string of nightclubs in North Africa."
"That's a thought, but her husband would miss her. Anyway," Ike confided, "she likes it dog style. It really gets her going."
Khumalo chuckled and turned the doorknob.
Curt raised himself over Harriet's naked body and she cooed lovingly, directed his stiff cock to the place where she wanted to feel it the most. She had a deep tan with no white areas. He crushed her breasts with his chest and thrust forward, all the way into her sopping cunt.
"Aaaah," he groaned, as her well-trained muscles grasped him and immediately began milking his penis. Her nails dug into his back and spurred him on to deep lunging action. She was all fire and honey inside, her cunt devouring him like a mouth without teeth. Her hips thrust and circled, her heels pounding on his humping ass.
"Oh, baby, baby, baby," Harriett cried. "You fuck me so good." She tossed her head, her long red hair whipping against his face. Her hungry mouth planted sucking,wet kisses everywhere she could reach. "Fuck me all night. Fuck me forever!"
Khumalo closed the door behind him and took the drink from Kim's hand. Her face was without expression. He knew why. She had never expected she would have to go to bed with a black man. Most white women never did. It made him feel good to degrade these white bitches who thought they were too good for him just because they had paler skin. They were all racists.
But his big, toothy smile never changed as he had these thoughts. He sipped his drink slowly while Kim gulped hers down. He ran his eyes over her shape, that promised so much dressed as it was in the new outfit she had bought just that morning. He took the glass from her hand and set it on the table, then moved around behind her and encircled her slender waist with his arms, pressing his full lips to the side of her neck.
"Ike promised me that you'd make me like you," he said, thrusting his massive cock against her from behind. "I told him I was sure you would." His hands moved up to the front of her new dress and covered her big round tits, cupping them underneath and lifting until they slid away.
Kim could smell the feral odor of him mixed with his after shave, could feel the bristle of his hair against her cheek. His big hands enclosed her breasts as no hands had ever done before and she felt the blood rushing to her nipples. Then one hand left her breasts and moved behind her to deal with her zipper and she felt the material part, baring her back inch by inch. He pushed the dress forward over her shoulders so that it fell to her waist in front. Then both hands found her lace covered bosom again, and the bumps made by her hardened nipples. Yes, her nipples were tingling, aroused, even though she had been well fucked this morning, even though she was terribly nervous and feeling awfully betrayed that Ike had given her to this monstrous man who spoke English with a Bantu accent.
The black man released the fastener of her bra and bared her beautiful breasts, watching in the mirror as they sprang free. "Lovely, so lovely," he said in his deep voice. Once again he cupped them underneath, lifting until they slid away and returned to their original shape. He caught the nipples between his fingers, massaging the pigmented area around them. Kim's breath, which had caught in her throat, was released with a long, trembling sigh. Then she caught it again when she felt him push that mammoth bulge of his penis against her soft bottom. It had grown in size in the last few moments and it felt as if it might have been transplanted from a horse.
Khumalo's hands smoothed down over her belly and went straight for her pussy. He found the trim, tight hairs and his middle finger moved straight into the deep, warm cleft of the plump labia. His fingertip found her clitoris still swollen from the boffing it had taken a few hours before. He slipped past the hole and his hand cupped her underneath her crotch. Lifting her with one arm, he gave her a shake and her dress fell to the floor beneath her. Then with his other hand, still holding her free of the floor, he skinned off her panties and threw them in the corner.
Kim shivered in the warmth of the room while Khumalo laid her naked on the bed and backed off to remove his clothes. She wanted to look away, knew she must not watch this black man undressing, but she could not tear her eyes away. He bared his powerful, hairless chest, tossed his shirt aside, and then pushed his shorts down. The waistband of his underwear hung for an instant on the broad ridge of his cockhead, then pulled suddenly away and the oversized black shaft leapt free, swinging in slow motion upward, thicker than Ike's admirable cock, and at least two inches longer, uncircumcised with a thick foreskin and a broad, flaring corona, flanged like a pagoda. The scrotum hung low, almost half-way to his knees, it seemed, webbed to the under-side of his penis, swinging slowly side to side, the huge potent testicles bumping from one thigh to the other. Kim cringed at the thought of what those dangerous balls could do when they unleashed their virulent sperm. She would be pregnant, with this black man's baby, and the world would witness her shame through the half-caste child at her breast.