The Housewives Of Coxville County Part 4 free porn video

Chapter 3: Heavy Tutelage: Bianca's Story



(Several weeks before the fated Coxville book club meeting...)





"So, who wants to tell me what Carl Denham means when he says "t'was
beauty that killed the b**st?"

Bianca Blackwood stood before her audience and calmly scanned the
expanse of the room. For all their youth and vitality, the stillness and
quiet that came from the students held all the life and vigor of a grave
yard.

"Anyone?" she asked patiently, tilting her horn rimmed glasses up
slightly to get a clearer glimpse of her student's young faces.

Not a peep from the crowd, just a slew of blank clueless stares and
wholly disinterested sneers. It simply amazed Blackwood how selective
teenager's priorities were. Ask a relatively simple question about the
meaning and significance of a line from a classic film - one they had just
finished watching no less - and you received a hail of deer in headlights
looks at best, and a topside view of neglectful heads at worst.

Ask them about what happened on the latest episode of "I'm a Teenage
Mother-to-be" or the final score of the previous week's football game
however, and you couldn't get them to pipe down without an air horn and a
stick of dynamite in hand. Youth indeed goes wasted on the young, thought
Bianca. It didn't dishearten as much as annoy her these days. Bianca
Blackwood - age twenty-eight -- had been teaching for a fair number of
years now, and the steady lack of enthusiasm from her students towards any
subject matter that couldn't be summed up or abbreviated in monosyllabic
forms or via tweet had already executed its due process of taking the wind
from her sails. These days her disappointment was overtaken by vexation
towards her pupil's less than stellar performances and almost nonexistent
enthusiasm.

"Um..." came a meek voice from the stilled crowd near the front of the
class.

Bianca's stark blue eyes settled on the voice's source as a slim white
arm lifted calmly upward. Of course, thought Bianca, because no one else
seems capable of basic analysis aside from the AP student.

"Ah, Ms. Rosenwood" said Bianca with a warm smile.

It didn't surprise Bianca that Daphne Rosenwood - age eighteen -- was
the only student to raise her hand. She was Bianca's star pupil after all,
and she did appear to be the only one ever genuinely interested during
their class sessions. Daphne was a...modest girl, if not wholly
conservative. She had full chestnut colored hair, which she kept in a neat
ponytail that trailed down to the lower part of her shoulders, striking
hazel eyes, smooth white skin, high cheek bones, a button nose and rather
full pinkish lips. A very pretty girl, who resembled an eighteen year old
Sarah Palin clone to Bianca. Daphne was just very...traditional in her
manner of dress, which - coming from Bianca Blackwood - was a statement.
Daphne's light blue and gray blouse, skirt and blazer reminded Bianca more
of her parent's generation rather than that of a teenage girl living in the
first decade of the 21st century.

Bianca wasn't complaining however. She found it to be a breath of fresh
air, compared what some of the other young `ladies' in her class considered
clothing these days. The atrocious outline of an outfit Kitty Summers was
wearing on the other hand, was the antithesis of Daphne's sensible style.
Bianca didn't know what she found most offensive, the obscenely high cut
skirt that had the word `whooty' (whatever that meant) on the front, the
equally exposing pink tank top with that strange acronymic B.O.W logo along
the chest, or the simply abhorent pink necklace/collar the girl wore that
read `slut'. Normally Bianca would blame poor parenting for a student's
lack of manners or poor appearance. But doing so in Kitty Summer's case
would in effect be an insult aimed at Jenny Summers, a close friend and
fellow instructor at Coxville high.



Therefore, instead of giving the young girl the ultimatum of either
covering up or taking a trip to the principal's office, Bianca was forced
to keep her distaste for Kitty's ensemble behind gritted teeth.
Unfortunately this immunity would by relation also have to apply to Kitty's
friends, who were sitting next to the young girl, and were dressed just as
poorly. The lithe and perky blonde, along with her two cohorts - Patricia
and Miko - sat towards the back of the class, all them dawning different
colored shirts bearing the same logo, its bold black B, lipstick shaped O,
and the white colored W on each girl's shirt. The risk of seeming bias
towards the Summers girl wasn't something Bianca was willing to chance.
Bianca hadn't the foggiest idea what the symbol meant, but over the last
few weeks she'd noticed that an increasing number of girls around town had
begun wearing the brand. Blackwood didn't doubt it was something crass.
Sad truth of a sad era she supposed. She had a knack for picking out
subtle nods to the profane, even when she didn't want to. It saddened
Blackwood to see such young and breathtakingly beautiful young girls reduce
themselves to lowly sex objects.

The word distraction came to Bianca's mind. This word applied to
Patricia, or 'Patty' as she was often called, perhaps most of all. The
tall redhead's bountiful chest was barely contained in such a tight fitting
t-shirt, her curves on display inside the thigh high shorts and the lining
of her thong underwear consisting of two slim strands of fabric that
clasped to her hips. Bianca, being a woman of notably ample curves
herself, could understand the girl's plight of having difficulty finding
properly fitted clothing (lord knew her students made it a point to remind
her as such from their comments), but Patty didn't even appear to be
spitting in the general direction of trying to conceal herself. Miko, the
smallest girl of the group - though not at all without her own seductive
shape -- wasn't exposed as much as her two friends, yet somehow still
managed to make herself blend right in among the trio with the degree of
leg, thigh and bare stomach she had exposed.

All three girls scoffed in unison at Daphne's gesture to speak before
choosing to continue whatever side conversation they were having at the
back of the class.

"What Denham meant was that it was Kong's desire to have Ann that got
him killed." Bianca smiled.

"Interesting thought." Daphne continued, her southern accent made most
notable from her clipped and precise pronunciation.

"Ann's beauty was what captivated Kong. It drove him to fight every
b**st on the island, it soothed him when he was fatigued or injured, and
tragically it was what resulted in his death. His love and desire to keep
her gave him strength, but also left him vulnerable. The fact he was a
huge ugly gorilla aside, it is a rather romantic plight actually, I felt
sorry for him."

Bianca couldn't have smiled any more brightly than she was at that
moment. It charmed her to see her efforts to educate the youth weren't
entirely wasted.

"Yes, a brilliant observation Daphne. Well done. The film ultimately
is just that, a romantic tragedy. One we've come across many times this
year in Hamlet, Romeo & Juliet, Othello and so forth."

Kitty and the other girl's couldn't have thrown knives any sharper than
their glances at Daphne. It was foolish, but the trio's malice towards the
girl didn't seem to be capable of anything but. The rest of the class just
continued looking back and forth between Daphne and Mrs. Blackwood.

"It's good to see at least one person is awake during class. Well said
Daphne." Daphne smiled sheepishly, her cheeks turning a stark rosy red.

"Half-truth!" came a gruff but youthful sounding voice from the very
back of the room.

Upon hearing the voice Bianca's heart instantly sank. Oh no, just when
you thought it was safe, the beautiful blonde instructor thought, her
motion to turn towards the blackboard frozen in its tracks as another hand
went up from the crowd. The fact Bianca was able to stop before she turned
her back to the class however left her slightly relieved, a silent looming
fear evaded for the time being. In unison all the heads in the class, sans
Daphne, turned towards the voice's origin. The risen hand was a deep brown
color, lined with muscle and bare up just beyond the bicep.

Bianca sighed, for she knew that from here on out, class wouldn't be
nearly as pleasant -or quiet- as it had been.

"Yes,Mr. Styles..." said Bianca hesitantly and with a bit more venom
than what may have been necessary. "There's something you'd like to add to
Daphne's assessment?"

"Mo' like correct..." came the voice snarkily. At this Daphne turned
her head to the back of the room, her eyes narrowed at the thought of her
intellect being openly challenged.

"The whole romance angle iz cute an eh'thang, but..." the voice trailed
off for a moment.

"It wadn't homegirl who got Kong killed dou, it was that connivin' ass
promoter and tha anglofied system that got him put down, nahmean?"

The class all turned back to Mrs. Blackwood, their eyes looking alert
and, for the first time that day, interested in the discourse. Bianca was
so focused on loathing the young man's atrocious grammer and sloppy
annunciation that she almost didn't notice the class's attention. A small
band of students in Style's vicinity began jeering and blurting a steady
rise of instigative noise. The boys around him all used perhaps some of
the most mashed and incoherent english she'd ever heard. It was the
classic southern drawl, and the annoying lilt and tone held in the slang of
today's black youths rolled into one audible ball of chaos. Bianca was
able to decipher as much as,

"Aww shit, here we go son!"

"Tell em' ma nigga!"

"Here we go cuh!"

It was the same breed of antagonistic call that Bianca would often hear
on the basketball court and football field of the school. The stabbing
pitch of intimidation that came mere moments before conflict. Of course it
did, Bianca thought, it was the noise of black youths who were getting
their kicks out of the prospect of discord, the scent of an argument. Four
students, one Gerald Styles included, were of such color and caste. The
four young men position in a box shape at the far end of the classroom.
Slouched and slumped in their seats, wearing their baggy jeans, loose
fitting shirts, brightly colored hats, beanies and so forth. They'd
actually managed to remain silent all the way up until the point Gerald -
the group's ring leader - had spoken up.

Gerald himself was a shorter fellow, or at the very least shorter than
Bianca, who stood half a head taller than the young black man. He was
definitely the shortest in his little gang. He had black close cut hair,
deep brown eyes, a strong square jaw and facial features, and was built
like an ox. The young man was rather short - 5'6' at most - but of a large
and muscular build, with a wide chest, broad shoulders, and matching
chiseled arms. His lower stomach possessed a bit more mass than muscle,
which made him appear - Bianca secretly thought - a bit like the famed Kong
himself. His strong facial features did not help this comparison either.
While not an altogether unattractive boy (Bianca supposed...for a black
man), Gerald's wide nose and brow line gave him a more ape-like quality
than the blonde teacher would allow herself to ignore or openly confess.
Kitty, Patty and Miko's eyes were suddenly fixated on Gerald, a curious
anticipatory glint contained in their eyes as Bianca silently noticed.

"Really? Care to explain?" said Bianca.

"Fasho" Gerald said. Gerald's manner of speech was much clearer than
that of his cohorts. This wasn't saying much of course, but he could most
definitely utilize language at a broader level than his friends, which --
Bianca assumed -- was what made him leader of their little band.



"Ya see, it was those white-bread American niggas, Denham and them, who
thought it would be a good idea to go in Kong's cut and uproot'm outta his
land an' shit."

Bianca groaned somewhat while the other students remained silent, but
all eyes remained on Gerald.

"Old girl didn't have nothin directly to do wit Kong gettin tagged,
though she was an incentive. When Kong got hot over bein confined and
placed on stage as a figure'a fun in fronta folks, he fought to escape, but
ultimately fell victim to an innately oppressive system."

"And I'm assuming this oppressive system is the `anglophile' one you
spoke of earlier?" responded Bianca with a none-too-surprised hint of
skepticism on her tongue.

"One in tha same. The movie's a metaphor for slaves an tha black man's
struggle in a hostile anglophile environment."

And here it comes, thought Bianca. The racially charged rant. Gerald
Styles, aka G-Spotz to his peers, was what Bianca referred to as a
"rabble-rouser". If asked for the meaning behind his nickname, Gerald
would -without fail-- reply with a ceremonious rap jingle of,

"Cuz dats what I hit wit ma fat ass dick, NIGGA!"

Being the ham and desperate seeker of attention that he was, it only
made sense that Gerald would use any and every opportunity to seed
controversy and uproar in whatever room he happened to be occupying at any
given time. Every historical, cultural, biological, anatomical or literary
topic they discussed in class inevitably veered into racial tirades
whenever Styles opened his mouth. Bianca had complained on numerous
occasions to Principal Long, but the old an invariably grumpy negro had
made it painfully clear he intended to do all of nothing in terms of
disciplinary action towards the disruptive youth. The class was turning
back to Mrs. Blackwood when she noticed she'd crossed her arms tightly
around her ample chest and she was fighting the onset of a scowl with
little progress.

"Tha uprootin of a being of power from his homeland, totin' him across
tha sea to foreign soil, putting em' in chains, and then destroyin him when
he frees his-self, AND - most importantly - runs off wit a bangin ass white
woman."

"Ugh!" Shot another voice from the crowd. This one was on the far left
hand side of the room.

Stacey Brown - a young and astonishingly beautiful black girl in Mrs.
Blackwood's class - turned in her seat to face Gerald. And Bianca thought
Kitty and her group were shooting dangerous stares.

"Why does EVERYTHING have to revolve around a black man running off with
a white woman with you!?" said the dark skinned girl in a flustered
tambour.

Bianca remained silent, choosing to let the debate take its own shape.
Mrs. Blackwood really liked Stacey. She was one of the few
African-American students in her class -- probably in the entire school --
who made it a point to be polite and respectful towards her elders, and
didn't make everything into an issue of race. With a solid grade-point
average and a wit belonging to the brightest of Coxvillian youth, Bianca
didn't find it at all unreasonable to allow the young woman to speak her
mind in the face of what they both knew to be a ridiculous and bluntly
racist piece of dribble. Whenever Gerald Styles started up on one of his
rants, Stacy would often be one of the first to call him out on it, another
character trait she admired about the girl. Bianca noticed that Stacy's
firey temper wasn't entirely unlike that of her grandfather Mr.Long, who
also happened to be the principal of their school.

"Psh, because it's natural attraction. The black man is tha most
desirable male specimen, a `wonder of tha world' as they called Kong.
Female impulse dictates dey go after tha prime and most fit male of da
species."

"PREACH nigga!" came the minion on Gerald's right.

"It's only natural dey go after tha black man. We got the bodies, tha
strength, tha ability to protect, to provide in every way possible. Dats
why you saw old girl Anne weepin and getting all cozy with Kong after a
while. And it can only be expected dat - as a result - tha other less
desirable males, da hatin ass niggas of tha species do err'thing in der
power ta keep thea betta male down b."

"That's absolutely ridiculous!" shot Daphne. "Not to mention totally
racist!"

"Real talk boo. Why tha fuck else would the military roll in crazy ass
force like dat against Kong?"

"Language", Interjected Bianca. She'd let student speak their minds,
but poor language on top of that 'jive jargon' was something Bianca didn't
have the patience or necessary ear plugs to tolerate.

"Because he was a menace!" came Daphne. "Not to mention the fact it was
a movie! You can't have a movie without an exciting climactive scene!" the
girl shot back.

"Yeah, a menace to the white man's white pussy."

The class gave a collective gasp, and if Bianca had been paying
attention to her own body language, she'd have noticed her jaw being
slightly agape.

"Mr.Styles!" came Bianca, her hands placed firmly on her wide and
desirable hips. "Language!"

"Art imitates life Daph" Gerald continued, ignoring Blackwood outright.
"Government, law, business, culture, it's all set up in dis country to keep
tha black man in chains, a tool of entertainment. When a nigga breaks
free, and takes iz earned piece of tha pie, tha system only allows'm to go
so far up the proverbial buildin til dey cut his black ass down. Is's all
rooted in fear. Anglo fear of tha black man, fear of his abilities, an -
most importantly - fear of what tha black man can do to'z white skinned
maidens." With this, Gerald's brown eyes narrowed seductively on Daphne, a
more than suggestive smirk lining the sides of his mouth.

And the space would've gone up in hellfire if Daphne Rosenwood's cheeks
didn't turn red. The once silent class room had risen to a host of murmurs
and chaotic conversation. Some were offended, some were angry, some were
embarrassed, and others were simply shocked. Gerald and his boys however,
found the response to be nothing short of comedic genius.

"That's the dumbest shit in the world Ger" came Stacy, crossing her
arms.

"Stacy!", came Blackwood, noting the girl's curse.

"Sorry Mrs.Blackwood".

"Don't trip Stace, you know tha black man will always have love fo iz
Nubian queens. Who else is gonna handle all dis dick we got goin on down
here?"

"You're-" Daphne began.

"We jus gotta get these fine ass fraulines broke in first."

The noise in the class rose to a near deafening clamor with the remark.
Bianca's calls to make the class settle down were lost amidst the rabble.

"Alright, alright, that's enough! Everyone settle down! Mr Styles, one
more crude word and you're off to Principal's Long's office!"

Her demands went ignored, and were only put down with the ringing of the
bell.

"Ugh, goodness gracious...alright, class dismissed."

Immediately the students grabbed their belongings and started for the
door. Kitty, Patty and Miko were giggling as they convened Gerald and his
friends and made for the door.

"Oh, and do not forget your outlines for the upcoming report are due on
my desk tomorrow! No excuses nor pleas will be accepted."

No one answered as they filed out of the room, and Mrs. Blackwood
sighed deeply. Why do I even bother, she thought.

"Bye Mrs. Blackwood, see you tomorrow", said Daphne, the signs of her
blush only just beginning to fade.

"Take care dear", said Bianca, "and thanks again for your input".

"Check you later Mrs. B" came Gerald smugly a moment later with her
crew, Kitty, Patty and Miko in tow as Bianca was sorting through her
papers.

"I'm afraid so Mr. Styles", replied Bianca.

"3B in the mu'fuckin buildin!" called one of the boys as they filed out
behind Gerald.

"Little shit..." grumbled Bianca, who never used foul language unless
she truly felt it necessary. As she organized the various sheets of paper
however, Bianca Blackwood couldn't help but recall how enthralled the class
had been during Gerald's uproar. In the span of five minutes, he'd managed
to not only bring the entire class back from the dead, but actually excited
them to the point they - granted chaotically - got involved with the day's
subject.

They were angry, offended, somewhat cajoled...but all the same,
involved. Bianca could feel her brain begin to buzz with thought, though
what it was zoning in on wasn't clear yet. She followed her train of
thought; let it take root...until the image of Gerald and that smug smile
of his crept back to the fore of her mind.

"That little shit..." she repeated with a sigh, and set herself down in
her desk chair to begin the less than invigorating task of grading the most
recent stack of quiz papers.

***



"Is it my fault?" said Bianca while standing in front of her bathroom
mirror. She was diligently brushing her teeth from side to side while
talking, the white foam of toothpaste cresting the sides of her mouth. "Am
I just that terrible as a teacher that I can't get even them interested for
one hour out of the day?"

Bianca was wearing her typical night attire, which consisted of a plain
white t shirt and pajama shorts. One of her bare legs was cocked the
slightest bit forward as she leaned towards the mirror, her right arm
placed on the countertop.



"Honey", came Bianca's husband Jebediah Blackwood - Jeb he preferred for
short - from the adjoining bedroom, "You know that's not true. These k**s
today have the attention span of fruit flies, all that TV and tweeting
nonsense have their brains everywhere and nowhere at once."

Jeb was sitting upright against the headboard of their king sized bed,
reading an issue of Forbes magazine. The cover showcased a very
attractive, very muscular and regal looking young light-skinned black man.
He had neatly cropped hair and was held a wide and confident smirk in a
casual pose while wearing a smart looking business suit, the subtitle
reading in bold: The Dawning of the Brook's Empire.



"Their not being able to focus I can handle, it's watching them jump to
life at the first sign of chaos that frustrates me. Read them Poe or Twain
or the words of Shakespeare, and all I get is stark silence. But belt a
few curse words and some crude toilet humor mixed in wild pseudo philosophy
on racial superiority, and you've got a near riot of discussion in the
classroom."

Jeb chuckled at this.



"Silence or a riot huh, interesting options."



"ARGH! Bianca sighed in frustration. "At this point a riot over
classroom lectures would be a breakthrough. Today was the most alive I've
seen that class in weeks."

Bianca went about the process of rinsing out her mouth and spitting the
minty dregs of now watery toothpaste into the sink. Afterwards she dried
her mouth and took a few moments to appraise herself in the mirror. Bianca
Blackwood, by the testimony of peers, friends and total strangers alike,
was a knockout. Taller than most women she knew by an idle few inches -
likely the product of her Germanic lineage - Bianca was the type most
people would almost immediately notice upon walking into a room. She would
often joke with others who commented on her height that she was descended
from Vikings. With her glossy shoulder length blonde hair, straight and
perfectly centered nose, ocean blue eyes and full round breasts, Bianca
Blackwood resembled more of a goddess taken from lore of Norse Mythology
than a high school Lit teacher. Her smooth, long and lithely muscular
limbs were a natural part of her, and through healthy diet and regular
exercise Bianca had accentuated these features as well as maintained a
youthful glow about her skin that made her lily white features spring
whenever she smiled.



Her body was perfectly lean and shapely, and from a front angle one
could easily note the healthy outer curvature of her hips, even after
bearing two c***dren to the disbelief of her peers. Bianca was content
with this as much as any woman could be. She felt sexy, and knew that she
was as such. It vexed her however when she turned to view her side profile
in the mirror. Bianca sighed, and looked on with a frown at the immensely
round and astonishingly plump orbs that made up her ass. After the smooth
inward curve of her lower back, Bianca Blackwood's backside bloomed
outward, an unnatural degree of mass making up of the soft flesh and about
as much muscle beneath as she could attain from her regular workouts.
Despite being told time and time again that it didn't look bad, the
disproportionate mass and protrusion of it with the rest of her body often
left her feeling somehow...unnatural. It didn't help that her condition
was noted by others, and it made for her feeling invariably uncomfortable
around...certain types of people.

Bianca could never understand how or from where she'd inherited such a
large posterior. As far as she knew large behinds like hers didn't run
standard in her family, and she definitely knew it hadn't sprouted from any
kind of indulgence of fatty snack foods or lazing about. She had gained a
little weight between having the c***dren, and that certainly had
compounded to the problem. She'd been able to bounce back from that
however, and lost most of the extra weight through a controlled diet and an
hour a day on the treadmill. The meat of Bianca's ass held snug in her
pajama shorts, an abrupt cup of skin and soft flesh at the bottom seam
where her thighs were exposed. The frown deepened on the gorgeous blonde's
face, distorting her features. Finding out how to get rid of this would be
another breakthrough, she thought.



"Don't stress yourself out over it dear" came Jeb from the other room, a
reassuring tone in his voice. "You do what you can, and you leave the rest
to what's supposed to happen naturally."

Bianca slowly walked out of the bathroom, a curious look on her face.



"Is my...is my butt too big?" she bluntly asked.

Jeb's green eyes shot up from his magazine to sternly look at his wife.



"This again?"



"Well...is it?"



"Sigh...what did I tell you the last nine times about it?"



"I know, we've gone over this before. But that was-"

"A week ago" Jeb interrupted.

"Yes, a week ago."

"And what did I tell you then?"

Bianca sighed. "Not at all sweetheart" she said, making her voice low
in imitation of her husband, who she thought always reminded her of Gregory
Peck in his role as Atticus Finch. "It's perfectly fine. Nothing wrong
with you at all on the butt department."

"Precisely."

"But...I'm more than halfway certain eight of those times you weren't
being honest, and one of those times doesn't even count on the grounds you
just grunted like you do when you're not really paying attention."

"These high school k**s are rubbing off on you."

"Be honest..." she said, a slight pout forming on her face, one she knew
Jeb was ever impelled to cater to.

Jeb knew what that meant. When a woman said be honest, it really meant
lie to me with everything you've got so I can feel better.



And once again, Jeb reassured that her ass, on accounts and purposes,
was not too big, and that there were no problems with it whatsoever.

Bianca sighed. She knew what that meant. When a man said there was
nothing wrong with you at all, it really meant, yeah, that thing is beyond
huge. I blame your mother. Jeb did his best to reassure her yet again.
This was responded with,



"Alright...you're placating to me...but-" she said.



"No" started Jeb. "I'm merely telling you the truth."



"Right..."

With that Bianca approached the bed, abandoning the topic...for the time
being, and fell onto the bed with a soft thud and the turning of covers.



"Anyway, I wouldn't be nearly as stressed out if it weren't that darned
Styles boy."



"That k** sounds like a typical punk", Jeb immediately grunted back
without even looking away from his magazine.

Bianca had told Jeb about her issues with Gerald "G-Spotz" Styles. He'd
hated the boy from word one, and that loathing for the young negro only
seemed to grow with each new report of disruption.



"Its little wastes of space like that that make me grateful parts of
town are set up the way they are."

Bianca was silent, but knew what Jeb meant, and (for the most part) she
agreed. The structure of Coxville, a county located in the Deep South, was
one that had maintained a longstanding degree of structural and cultural
division between differing races. This practice dated back many score and
decades, as far back as the Mexican War from what she had read.
Individuals like Gerald Styles and his friends made up the inhabitants of
the much dreaded Westside, or N-Town, the run down part of the county that
was occupied entirely by the colored citizens. There, crime and disorder
were a common practice, and it was where many of the area's youth had
learned the dreadful habits (and atrocious grammar) she'd witnessed at
Coxville high school.

On the polar end of town was greater Coxville, where Bianca, her family
and all of her friends lived. If night and day had a demographic, their
part of town would have been where the sun shone brightest. Bianca was an
intelligent woman however. She did not equate this circumstance to be a
simple matter of "good and bad". Bianca Blackwood knew of the great
injustices people of color had been dealt over the centuries, and the
lingering effects those slights held over their cultural and financial
development, mentallity, and emotional standing in America. She -- unlike
many in her family, and even her husband to a tamer degree -- was not at
all an advocate of the blatant racism that seemed inherent in the town's
history, racism being a force which stunts intelligence in her mind. But
on the same token Bianca was aware that, in regards to pure fact, some
cultures were - suffice it to say - simply better than others. As a
teacher, Bianca was driven to instruct every student equally and to the
best of her ability. As a thinking woman however, this did not blind her
to the fact that - though she hated to admit it - not every student would
take to her tutelage. Boys like Gerald Styles and his crew were just the
unfortunate few who'd hadn't fallen in line or come to understand how
important education was. It was sad, but alas at the end of the day it
wasn't her fault.



"I swear that boy gets joy out of making my job as difficult as humanly
possible."



"It's what his kind does dear. They're angry at the fact they know
other people around them are actually making something of themselves, and
therefore make it a point to act out as a last ditch attempt to matter.
They'd rather fail out loud and in front of an audience than buckle down
and succeed through hard work, like this Brooks fellow here."

Bianca sighed, settling herself underneath the covers. "The truly sad
thing is", said Bianca. "The k**s really truly respond to him. It's like
he has this invisible hold over everyone in class. I've half a mind to
take notes on how he does it."



"A jester's talent dear" Jeb replied. "Fools can capture the attention
of almost anyone, its their lot in life and sadly it's a fleeting one at
best."



"If only..." she began.



"Stop worrying about it" Jeb then said, setting the magazine aside and
turning over to face her. "You're going to give yourself wrinkles
overnight if you keeping thinking about it."



"Wrinkles and a big behind...attractive thought...thanks."

Jeb grumbled.



"Don't even start."

The two kissed gently, and Jeb turned out the bedroom light. In the
dark Bianca was left to her thoughts. Many of them were random, and some
revolved around the events of the day. Government, law, business, its all
set up to keep the black man in chains. It's all rooted in fear. Anglo
fear of tha black man, fear of his abilities, and - most importantly - fear
of what tha black man can do to his white skinned maidens. Bianca pondered
the boy's rant, indulged it briefly in the privacy of her mind. We jus
gotta get these fine ass fraulines broke in first. Where does he get these
ridiculous ideas, thought Bianca. G-Spotz! Cuz dat's what I hit wit ma
fat ass dick, NIGGA! Bianca turned over under the covers, resting her head
against her pillows. B3 in tha mu'fuckin buildin! Bianca flinched,
thinking back on that name, B3, and what it implied.



"Ridiculous..." Bianca murmured to herself, lilting herself into a
flustered sleep.

(One week after the fated Coxville book club meeting)



"Conclusively, Twain's final note to his audience is one of a satirical
nature on the political, cultural, and racial standing of America during
the 20th Century. A note that was bold and salient in its era and remains
as such now as we traverse through the 21st century. Thank you..."

Daphne Rosenwood finished presenting her paper to the class with a small
closing bow as a steady - if half-hearted - hail of applause filled the
room. Several students kept their responses secluded to a `golf' pitch,
while others chose to opt out of joining in the round altogether.

"Good work girl" said Stacy Brown with a playful nudge as Daphne took
her seat next to her.

"Thanks, I think it was alright" replied Daphne coyly. "A lot of the
good material I had to omit for time purposes."

"Shoot, I'll be lucky if I break two minutes on mine" replied the dark
skinned beauty.

The most fervent and excited clapping of hands came from Mrs. Bianca
Blackwood, who sat to the far right of the room in a simple brown chair
that she'd brought from home sometime prior. She could have sat in one of
the open student's chairs while the pretty brunette read her report before
the classroom, but she'd learned from previous experiences those things
simply drove her mad with discomfort. The tall, buxom and extremely
curvaceous blond couldn't be paid to sit still in the standard sized chairs
they provided at Coxville high.

The confining flat wood surface always pressed into her large round
breasts and the seating was always too blunt for her skin and not nearly
wide enough to accommodate the lower ends of her shape with any form of
comfort. With the physical strain came the jeering whispers from Gerald
"G-Spotz" Styles and his cronies on how Bianca's ass sat on the edges
became unbearable, she decided to bring one of her own chairs from home.

"Brilliant work Daphne" said Bianca with a beaming smile, "Hands down
the best presentation yet."

Daphne blushed, while other students near her scoffed. Bianca hated to
appear as though she played favorites, but the young conservative girl had
been her best pupil by far. Of all of her class periods, Daphne had shown
herself to be the sole straight-A student of the lot. Over the last three
days the class had gone through a wide number of presentations, and with no
contest Daphne's had been the star piece. Bianca already knew that even
with the half dozen or so remaining papers to be read, Daphne's was going
to be best of the batch. Bianca went down her list of remaining
presenters. The list was supposed to have gone alphabetically, with Daphne
Rosenwood being the last of the R's. Though Stacy made up the B's on the
list, Mrs. Blackwood had allowed the girl to present two days later than
she'd been slated. family emergency had been the official reason, but
Mrs.Blackwood figured the real reason was lack of preparation on the pretty
young negress. Bianca however liked Stacy, and had allowed to hold on her
report until after the R's had been completed.



"With that, our next presenter is going to be...Ms. Stacy Brown"

Stacy took a deep breath and went about gathering the pieces of paper
that made up her report. As she approached the podium at the front of the
class, several voices arose from the back of the sitting crowd. They were
s**ttered, and held such a thick southern drawl that the words sounded more
like mashed paste is it were somehow made audible. A keen ear would have
been able to decipher the noise as something like,



"Don't take too long lil mama!"



"Read that shit fast, aight!"



"How many more niggas gotta go today?"

The noise - of course - came from the three boys sitting at the far back
of the classroom.

D'shawn, Khalil and Devon were the three cronies of Gerald Styles, or
`G-Spotz' to his friends. Their presence made Blackwood almost regret
making attendance mandatory during the week of reports. The three boys had
already gone up before the class. They'd succeeded in showing everyone
exactly what happens when a student refuses to put any effort whatsoever
into their schoolwork. D'shawn', Khalil and Devon had all chosen the same
topic, and - in their ingenious plan of strategy - had all copied from the
same online analysis site. On a meeker and less scrutinizing teacher their
plan might have worked, however Bianca Blackwood was simply not that breed
of instructor. She'd given F's to the three of them almost instantly, and
had worked herself into a fine rhythm explaining to the class after each
unutterable presentation why plagiarism would not be tolerated in her
classroom. The boys were somewhat embarrassed, but cared little after the
final word was spoken on the matter.

G-Spotz meanwhile had yet to show up to class that day, a fact which
loomed over Blackwood's mind as both a blessing and a curse. She was more
than grateful to have some semblance of order in the young man's absence,
especially given the importance of the reports at the current stage of the
school semester. Without G-Spotz's lead, his three boys proved to be far
less rowdy, and could easily be tamed with a stern glare or word of caution
from the beautiful blonde teacher. Stacy glared at the trio and Blackwood
shot at them a sharp shhh! Immediately the three boys piped down. Hmph!
not nearly as tough without their ring leader, thought Bianca with a smirk
that might have come off as a bit overly satisfied.

A part of Bianca wondered if Styles would try using the same material as
his three friends. It would make failing him a heck of a lot easier, she
thought. The other part of her knew better. Gerald Styles was a creep and
a menace on a variety of levels, but a copy-cat and moron he most certainly
was not. Blackwood could freely admit that to herself. She only hoped
that whatever words the unruly youth chose to speak to the class for his
report weren't nearly as offensive as the last big scene he'd made in the
room. That outburst had been weeks ago, but the memory still held a sour
note on Bianca's nerves. It may have been a case of her wounded pride as a
teacher, or a woman, or as a southerner, or perhaps being a white, or (most
likely) some aggregation of the lot.

Whatever the reason, her loathing of that boy held strong. It held, but
these days - as Bianca slowly began to realize - held something...else
attached to it. Something which Bianca - despite spending hours upon hours
pondering -- couldn't quite put her finger on. Much had happened since
that incident involving Gerald, a great many things indeed for the 28 year
old educator. New events and shared experiences with her good friends
Sammy Spitzmen, Ivana Swallows, Anya White and Jenny Summer had her feeling
like certain things in her life were...skewed and lacking somehow. The
book club she belonged to with the other women had been where it all
started for her. Things she had done had - done in a manner that almost
seemed to be a trance now - had left her a several shades past confused.
Bianca's mind had found itself drifting off more and more into places that
she'd never even considered before. Not considered as a wife, a mother of
two beautiful c***dren, nor an intelligent teacher and female native of
Coxville County. As a result her views on Gerald Styles had gradually
begun to change somehow.

Assuredly she still found the young Negro to be rude, arrogant,
argumentative, crass and outright offensive with his sexist and equally
racist life views, but there was something else beneath all his boisterous
posturing that which Bianca couldn't place.

She gnawed on what it could possibly be, what had changed in her image
of G-Spotz, when Stacy began her report. Bianca snapped her head up,
knocking herself from her thoughts to watch the girl. Stacy Brown's topic
was a contemporary romance novel that their class had read earlier in the
year, and how the traditional motifs of "romance" had been changed over the
years to reach broader audiences. With any luck he'll stay a no-show and I
can just grade his report separately, Blackwood thought. She liked the
idea of him staying out of class, if only for the day. Just thinking about
him filled her with something that felt very similar to anxious and made
her squirm in her chair.

Stacy's points were concise, her speech clear and pleasant to the ear,
and the class as a whole couldn't have cared less. Many heads were staring
off into space, and others were so bluntly ambivalent that their heads were
lying face down on the desk. Blackwood made a note of these students, and
was definitely going to be deducting points from the papers of those
involved. However Bianca herself found it difficult to stay focused that
day. What in the world could I have possibly been thinking that night,
Bianca questioned herself. Despite her greatest efforts she just couldn't
get it out of her mind. That fateful night at the girl's book club was
assailing her brain again. Bianca had done her absolute best to press down
the memories of what she and the other girls had done that night. Had done
her absolute best to erase the brief stint of - what she could classify as
- 'madness' she'd taken part in at the home of her good friend Jenny
Summers.

After trying to explain that night logically to herself - and failing
miserably - Bianca's deduction eventually fell to more farfetched ideas.
Theories spanning everything from strange waves of collective insanity, to
mind altering d**gs being spiked in her lemonade became possibilities.
Such conspiracies however all fell flat upon Bianca's realization she'd
been reading too many fiction novels as of late. The reaction had been
brought on by something unknown, but something incredibly real. Something
very real that she somehow knew in her bones she'd not yet rid herself of.

While perhaps not as thorough as Daphne's report, Stacy Brown's was
definitely a fine piece. When she was actually able to focus on the girl's
words that is. Stacy was two and half minutes through her report, when the
classroom door suddenly swung open with a brutish shove. All heads in the
room abruptly turned. Bianca jumped in her chair with shock. Downed
students suddenly jerked upright in their chairs towards the opened door,
as Gerald `G-Spots' Styles proudly swaggered into the classroom. His cocky
smirk was lining arched upward on his lips as though he'd been twenty
minutes early as opposed to more than twenty minutes late.

"Whaddup nigga!" called one of the boys, the taller fellow named Khalil.

"Shhh!" hissed Blackwood again, however her warnings seemed to instantly
lose their weight with the entrance of the young burly negro, his mere
presence giving them arrogance and valor somehow by osmosis.

Stacy merely sat her report down on the face of the podium and crossed
her arms in a pout. She chose to say nothing, instead allowing her eyes to
shoot hostile rounds at Gerald.

"Sorry I'm late...car trouble."

"Dis nigga..." came the shorter boy of the three sitting, the one named
Devon. "Was the trouble blonde or red-headed ma nigga?"

"Both son" chuckled Gerald in a low tone.

"Quiet you three!" shot Bianca. "Mr. Styles, would you kindly take
your seat, Ms. Brown is in the middle of her presentation?"

Gerald simply rolled his eyes and smirked at his boys. Inside Bianca
churned with silent anger. It simply astonished her how easily Gerald got
under her skin. The smallest insulting gesture from him never failed at
taking her to her boiling point. She could feel the butterflies of fight
or flight fluttering in her stomach. While he never came out and said it,
his rolling eyes may have well been screaming fuck you, bitch. She
absolutely hated that cocky smirk. Bianca's husband Jeb had assured her
that, as a teacher, students like Gerald Styles would come and go. She
knew there was truth in his words...but that didn't mean she had to accept
such insults and disrespect.

In a couple months he'll be out of school and out of your hair Jeb had
assured while lying in bed.

She'd hoped he was right, despite the fact the boy's grades - while
perhaps not terrible - left much to be desired, and at this point in his
senior year made the idea of graduation a bleak one at best. Bianca had
spent a number of sleepless nights, spent hours pondering ways to somehow
get through to the boy. She spent a great deal of time thinking up ways to
somehow channel the boy's need for disruption and his desire for attention
into his studies. Then she'd spent a great deal more time imagining new
and innovative ways to do him physical harm upon finding no amicable
methods of reaching a truce with rude little bastard. Gerald eventually
found a seat, one empty desk closer to his boys, and Stacy continued with
her report after clearing her throat.

The remaining two minutes of the young black girl's presentation went
uninterrupted, and the class gave their standard half-hearted hail of
applause after she came to her conclusion.

"That was really good Stace", said Daphne.

"Thanks girl", replied Stacy with a smile.

Gerald and his three friends had actually managed to keep their side
conversations to a dull whisper and only slightly irksome grunts and
chuckles throughout most of her piece. Bianca sighed, and here I thought
I'd get away with him simply not showing up. She knew it was a pipe dream,
but to Bianca hope only killed upon it being relinquished...in most cases
at least. Blackwood went down her list again. There were only a few more
students left to present, with the final report belonging to Kitty Summers.
Bianca had noticed early on that the young blond hadn't yet shown up to
class that day either. Indeed, neither the Summers girl nor her friend
Patricia had made an appearance yet. Miko had been present the day she was
called before the class, but somehow had managed to fall ill directly after
giving her report, and requested to be sent home early by nurse Swallows.
She hadn't been seen in class since.

Where are those girls, thought Bianca. A less than curious thing to
Blackwood, despite her wonder. The young and astonishingly beautiful blond
girl, along with her small host of cheerleader friends, had been missing an
increasing number of school days over the last few weeks. That, and the
fact their behavior had become more and more unsavory, even by young
teenage girl's standards. Initially Blackwood had equated it to Kitty and
her friends simply reaching a rebellious stage of their youth, their
hormones impelling them to 'make a little havoc' during their senior year.

When faculty members would converse in the break room about their
disapproval of the girls and their choice of `new company', Bianca would
politely agree, but - to be fair - make a point to ask the elder teachers
how they behaved when they were at that age. Some fellow teachers would
scoff, others would negate with "buts", citing seedy hearsay and secondhand
rumor about the `simply detestable' goings on at secret pool parties,
football games and even on school grounds. Others would begrudgingly
choose to drop the matter, and go back to reading the day's newspaper.
Their eventual neglect of the matter put Bianca somewhat more at ease with
her own little secret. She'd seen Jenny Summers in action during one of
her...activities, and didn't altogether see the image of Jenny's daughter
as a non-possibility either.

Bianca fought to give the students an equal voice and fair
representation in matters, despite the fact that even she had noticed the
dramatic change in the girl's behavior. While by no means a pushover (sans
Gerald) Bianca Blackwood did pride herself on giving students an equal
opportunity to defend their stance, whatever it may be. When Kitty Summers
and her tall and very curvaceous friend Patricia - Patty to her friends -
walked through the door however, Bianca could almost smell the mischief on
them. Kitty and Patty attempted to casually - though quietly - tiptoe into
the room. Patty was wiping at something on the cleavage of her ample
bosom, which was tucked inside an entirely too small shirt. Meanwhile
Kitty was subtlety wiping away the phantom dregs of...something...from the
left corner of her lip.

"Ah, Kitty, Patricia, so nice of you ladies to finally join us", Bianca
said with a slight bite held in her voice. Students knew when Mrs.
Blackwood was genuinely pissed when she got to using first names. "And may
I ask where you two have been?"

"Umm-"both girls said in unison while looking to each other for a signal
in a mutual wide eyed surprise. "Car trouble..." Kitty eventually said,
more in the form of a question than an actual statement.

"Yeah, car trouble" Patty then chimed in.

Bianca sighed. If it weren't for the fact that Kitty Summers was the
daughter of Bianca's dear friend Jenny Summers, she would have likely
ripped her apart in front of the class right then and there. Instead she
merely shook her head.

"Car trouble...of course, there seems to be a wave of that going around
just lately. Coincidentally on the day that reports are due ..."

The two girls merely gave coy little smiles and simple shoulder shrugs,
which - as noted by Bianca - was returned with a cocky smirk from the mouth
of Gerald and his homies.

"Just take your seats you two...", Bianca said dismissively.

Bianca adjusted her glasses and looked back down to the presentation
list. With Stacy's report complete, all the B's were taken care of. There
would only be a couple students left of the S's. Bianca's heart sank when
her eyes settled on the next unchecked name on her list.

"...Mr. Gerald Styles..." said the buxom blond, barely holding back the
groan that sat atop her throat.

That same cocky grin, added with a clamor of instigative murmurs from
his three cronies.

"Yeeah boi."

"You got that shit cuh!?"

"Eh yo, make that shit fast nigga."

"Before you step up to the podium Mr. Styles, I just want to know if
your paper is going to sound anything like the previous three from Khalil,
D'shawn or Devon.

"What, deez three clowns? Hell naw!" bellowed Gerald.

"Ey fuck you nigga!" said Devon.

"Devon! Language!" barked Bianca. "And may I trust you in assuming
your piece isn't going to be offense or disruptive to the class in any
way?"

"Naw, I really put work inta dis one, so's folks won't be gettin all
butt hurt about the truth. It'z mo thought provokin dan anythan..."

Bianca's nose scrunched to the point it almost misaligned her glasses,
and her eyes narrowed slightly upon hearing the boy. Their butchering of
the English language grated on her ear drums. She didn't have the strength
or patience to break down all the flaws in his sentence, let alone the
time. So Blackwood simply signaled him to approach the front of the class
with a flat wave of her hand.



"Very well then, the stage is yours Mr. Styles".

With that, Gerald lazily pulled out a small and rather hard used looking
stack of papers. It amazed Bianca that the boy could even identify the
mangled pages as anything besides tarnished pieces of trash. Gerald
approached the podium, and Blackwood noticed then that almost immediately
all eyes on the class were alert and focused on him. Even the once
sleeping students had come alive and were sitting upright to hear Gerald's
report. I can't believe it, thought Bianca. Bianca truly hated to admit
it, but the class really did follow the young negro. Even if they didn't
agree with his views, they traced his every word and gesture.



"Mornin ya'll" said Gerald in a confident boom after clearing his voice.
"Ma report" he began, sifting to the presumed first page of his essay,
"isn't gonna be on just one book or film we've covered this semester."

"What?" came a few hushed murmurs from the class.

Mrs. Blackwood herself was slightly taken aback by the declaration.

"Ma report is gonna briefly cover da broad strokes of tha major works
we've looked at dis semester, an then correlate how all ah dem are speakin
durectkly ta two specific audiences in America. Namely, tha
African-American man..."

Oh god, thought Bianca.

"An his counterpart...tha white American woman."



The response from the class was a strange one. It wasn't just a
collective gasp, it wasn't just the sound of creaking desks as a cluster of
bodies suddenly leaned forward in their chairs. It wasn't just the giddy
slew of giggles that came from Kitty and Patty. It wasn't even the
seemingly outraged fluster that squeaked from Stacy. It was a distorted
and randomly meshed grouping of all those things, added with the more than
peculiar silence of one Bianca Blackwood. Blackwood did not protest, she
didn't immediately tell the boy to leave the room, nor did she fail him on
the spot for choosing such an absurd topic. That is something which should
be remembered. Bianca Blackwood simply sat there in her home brought
chair, her eyes wide open in a manner to match the O of shock that had been
instantly slapped onto her face. It was a look carrying equal parts shock,
awe, offense and an ineffable quality of curiosity at what was going to
happen next.



"Oh...shit..." cursed Mrs. Blackwood under her breath, not even taking
notice to the fact that at some point - unbeknownst to her -- she had
leaned forward in her chair, and her nipples had turned into two tight buds
inside her white blouse.

...

(Three days before Gerald's presentation)



"Come on baby, harder!" cooed Bianca Blackwood in the dark of her
bedroom.



"Agh, agh, agh!" puffed Jeb in response as he did his best to comply
with his wife's plea.

Bianca was on all fours, naked and bent over in front of her husband.
Behind her an equally naked Jeb pumped into her with everything he had,
faint fleshy claps marking his efforts. Jeb's body was slick with a layer
of sweat from fucking Bianca from behind. Bianca's curved naked form
meanwhile hadn't even shown the slightest signs of fatigue. She held her
position firm and kept her back arched to give her lover entry.



"Harder!" Bianca said, this time hinting more towards a demand than a
request. She so very much wanted to be fucked, pounded by a hard cock.
Staving off sex for weeks on in had that effect on her.



"Agh, eh, Ye-Agh!" replied Jeb as he grabbed his wife's lovely hips
firmly and pulled her back onto his erect penis.



At maximum length Jeb's cock was about six and half inches. More than
half of his manhood however was blocked entry into his wife's sweet pink
gash, as the meat of her large and extremely round buttocks cushioned most
of his blows. To Jeb it felt amazing. Even after bearing two c***dren,
Bianca's body hadn't become any less robust or toned than it had when
they'd first started dating. While he'd originally held a secret distaste
for the prominent growth in his beloved BB's hind quarters, Jeb had to
admit to himself now - silently - that the soft abundant mass of that made
up his wife's ass felt simply divine. Of course he'd never say anything on
the matter out loud. No sir, the topic of his wife's posterior was all but
forbidden. He'd learned to be a sure fire method to kill her good mood,
and as far as Bianca knew, his perceptions on her bottom were that of it
being by all accounts totally normal.



It was anything but of course (no pun intended), but they'd comforted
themselves in the safety of the lie. Jeb had gotten used to telling his
gorgeous wife she was as such, and Bianca never got tired of hearing as
such from her husband. In the end Jeb decided it would be best to keep
Bianca's bountiful bottom as something akin to a `silent' guilty pleasure.
One he'd never speak of aloud or acknowledge outwardly.

"Ugh my god!" Blurted Jeb as he thrusted his hips forward into her
expose opening.

And if her glorious bubble butt wasn't a national treasure in itself,
her pussy was just as tight as the first time he'd ever been inside it.



"I...I'm, I'm gonna" Jeb bellowed, not able to get his words to string
together in proper order before they trailed off into an uncontrollable
grunt of release.

Bianca turned her head towards Jeb to see him spasm behind her. She
felt his cock abruptly harden, surge with the pumping semen, and then
gradually soften between her ass cheeks. Within moments Jeb had collapsed
onto her, his penis falling limply out of her, and he buried his head into
the back of her blonde hair. Their love making had lasted a grand total of
ten minutes, with two positions in total being executed. Bianca sighed,
and lifted herself up from the remains of her husband. Bianca rose from
the bed and threw on her night robe before heading off to the bathroom.
Jeb meanwhile splayed himself backwards onto their large sized bed, taking
deep breaths and wiping at the beads of sweat that had formed on his face
and forehead.



"That was..." he began in between labored breaths "simply incredible..."
said Jeb in a more than satisfied exhalation.

Well...that makes one of us, thought Bianca bitterly. In all their
years of marriage, this had to have been the first time Bianca had ever
walked away from her bed after having sex with her husband in utter
disappointment. Granted they had both been tired from their respective
days and work, routine and the mutual grind of raising their two c***dren,
but that had never put a damper on their sex life before. What's going on,
she thought. They'd made the mutual decision to stave off one another for
several weeks before that night. The idea was rooted in allowing the
anticipation to build - anywhere from a few days to a few weeks - so as to
enhance the experience when they finally did getting around to it. Bianca
had come across the idea in a women's magazine she had read some months
back, and had convinced Jeb to engage in the little experiment as well, as
one of the rules consisted of `no masturbation'.



They'd done it like that several times before, and each time the sex had
been simply amazing. Bianca never had any notable complaints about Jeb's
skills, stamina or...or his penis size, she forced herself to complete
mentally.

But that night's performance, along with at least two others recently,
had just been so... woefully beneath her expectations. So thoroughly
bland, that she could hardly believe they had occurred.

Bianca doused her face with cold water and looked at herself in the
mirror. Maybe it's me, she thought. This self-conscious nonsense with me
and my butt is making me too insecure. To Bianca, Jeb had always been a
perfectly adequate lover. He was in excellent shape for a man nearing his
thirties, and it wasn't a matter of her losing attraction to him. Not had
their marriage come under any sort of recent strain or fire in the form of
conflict within the last few months. She didn't know if it was work, her
own stressed mental state with her students, grading reports, or something
yet unaccounted for. All she knew was... sex for her as of late, had
taken a sudden and very much frustrating nosedive.

"Not to use an old cliché, but was it good for you dear?" said Jeb to
his beautiful wife in the next room with a chuckle.

Bianca did not respond, being too lost in thought. No...not thought,
more like lost in memory. Bianca thought back, in search of the last time
she'd truly felt horny and been thoroughly pleased. The last time Bianca
had been truly aroused -- wet to the point of dripping in fact -- had been
more than a month ago. The memory shoved it