Maggie Redux free porn video

She let her anger push the damn weight, straining her midsection, feeling the pull all the way to her pussy. Fuck you, machine. Fuck you. Take that. Ungh. And that. Suddenly, the first hint of a pull in her thigh warned her she had reached her body's limit. No matter what she did, which machine she used, her abs never twinged, never gave out. It was always the goddamn legs. In spite of the jogging.

Maggie lay there gasping, the bar still resting on the top of her feet, sweat pouring down her leotard between her fat tits. She knew she smelled different than all the honky bitches, a subtle sweetness, muskier than their pale, acrid odor. She liked hers best. Her mind buzzed as it always did when she was gasping like this. Shit. What the fuck's the point? She was gonna turn fifty next month, hadn't been laid in three years, beat her brains out keeping her tall, ripe body in shape, waiting for, what? Some young black stud? In this Midwestern town, with it's corn fed, handsome, all white farmboys, whose big night out was the Friday night high school football game? There was one other black family in town, the Smithers, two doors down, but Alma worried she'd tempt Horace, so they saw little of each other these days.

Her husband's police officer buddies tried, they couldn't have been nicer, really, but they were all married. They all felt an obligation to her since Eddie'd gotten himself shot in that botched robbery, and were amazingly kind about visiting him in the VA hospital every month or so. But, of course, he just lay there, the ventilator working his lungs, eyes closed, being fed through a tube. Maggie's heart twinged for the poor son of a bitch, trapped there, in a State that wouldn't let her pull the plug. The health coverage for the cops in this town was so good, he'd still be going three years from now, and meantime, Maggie was trapped.

She slipped her feet sideways to the floor and sat up, grabbing the towel and wiping her face and chest. She caught the skinny kid behind the towel rack ogling her. That was the thing that drove her nuts. She had the strangest collection of men hit on her. With the innate prejudice of this area that had been just north of the Mason-Dixon line, it took some courage to even consider dating a black woman, particularly one who was coal black, though her features were the small nosed, big eyed, distinctly non African, white style beauty of her quadroon grandmother. She'd never been sure, but there had always been talk about a white New Orleans politician way back there in the Smith family tree.

When she was younger, they used to say she looked like Dorothy Dandridge. She always scoffed, refusing to let the implied compliment go to her head. Her daddy always told her, keep your feet on the ground, Maggie. She felt a little twinge of guilt, even now, because she realized she still styled her hair like Dot. Anyway, she couldn't carry a goddamn tune in a bucket.

What she got was these skinny liberals from the local high school, wispy hair, glasses, she suspected they couldn't get a hard on in a million years. Thought they were doing her a favor. The fat Puerto Rican cop had made a pass at her too, but he was even worse. Wife had left him for beating on her. Her pussy twinged as she remembered Eddie, his big frame dominating her as no other man ever had, his big cock stroking in her cunt as he mumbled his jive, big city fuck words in her ear. "Hot tits, baby, hot cunt, move that fat ass Maggie, you whore. Love it baby, love that fat thing inside your wet pussy. Oh shit baby, yeah go ahead, feel good? Yeah well hang on, Daddy ain't finished yet honey. Y'okay? Yeah, well lets go, move that black ass. Third time's always the best for you anyway, baby." A shiver lanced through Maggie's pussy as that memory seemed suddenly so vivid. Oh Eddie, you poor, unlucky bastard.

He was otherwise the perfect model of the new black man, light skinned, handsome in a white way, well spoken, with his slight Boston accent, from BU, but he got a boot out of letting people occasionally assume that Harvard was the only school in Massachusetts. They had a good time during the six years they had lived here together, with a middle class bunch of nice white people, and the money, with his Army retirement pay and the Police Lieutenants salary, was terrific. Maggie had no money problems, but she sure wasn't happy.

As she rose and headed for the locker room, she caught a look at herself in the full length mirror. The leotard acted as a girdle, her big tits stood high on her chest, and her ass looked smooth and curvy. The exercise kept her hips from getting flabby, but she couldn't quite get rid of her tummy. Still, she knew it looked sexy, her body, and she had gotten good at detecting the little sideways glances all the young studs gave her. There wasn't a white woman over thirty whose body could hold a candle to hers.

She met the eyes of the mayor's son, a wimpy little guy who looked down, shamefaced, when he realized she had caught him. "Fucking asshole" she thought as she smiled at facing him down. Jenny Warren was taking a shower as she stripped quickly, padded in to the corner away from the young blonde, and turned on the spray. Maggie's tits sagged some when released, but otherwise her muscles held her body up well, though it was full and generous. Young Jenny took a peek, then looked away, blushing. Maggie's West Indian black skin showed few wrinkles, and her thick bush of pubic hair was very prominent. She paid no attention to the embarrassed teen trying to make her slim, cheerleader's body somehow sexier by working out.

The warm water felt good, soothing some of the pain in her leg, taking some of the anger away. Not all, of course. She soaped up her pussy, just as Jenny walked by, blushing. She felt a moment of pity for the poor little rich gal who had never known a black of any age in this white-bread town. But it passed quickly, as she felt a little zing when she rubbed, down there.

Jenny was gone when she finished, though she noticed her leotard had been moved. Must have been in a hurry, young Jen. Maggie's plain white bra was wrinkled as she pulled it out of the gym bag, but smoothed out once she squeezed her boobs in. Just a hint of cleavage, didn't want to look too slutty. There was no one to impress, anyway. It would have been nice to just wear shorts home, and a tank top, but not here in deep middle America. No, her modest silk polka dot, it covered her up, couldn't be criticized, but her ass swaying moved the cloth sexily. I'm not fucking dead, she thought, putting a smile on her pretty, sensual face as she walked out of the locker room. Okay, boys, eat your honky hearts out...

Across town, at that moment, Bill Warren was sitting in study hall, daydreaming about Maggie. He knew Jenny was down there today, and his little sister often came back with tales of the gorgeous nigger's fantastic body and the way it freaked everybody out. Jenny was resigned to the way he grilled her about it now, wanting to know every detail, which machines she used, who else was there, he had even worked up the nerve to ask Jenny about whether Maggie's boobs sagged, was her pussy gray at all, was it thick? He'd been this way ever since freshman year, before her husband got shot, watching her jog as he delivered papers.

The first time she had realized he was her paper boy, she had stopped near her house, the pale morning light damn near letting him see her cunt hair, big nipples poking out, the sweat dripping, staining under her arms, that unique, sweet smell overpowering. That moment lived in his memory. "Hi, honey. Got my paper? Here, I'll take it. What's your name, honey?" Then the sight of her ass, wobbling slightly, a stain in a triangle that ended at her butt crack, as she ran ahead of him and into the large white frame ranch house they lived in.

Since then, it became a ritual, as he tried to time his route so she would be almost finished when he got there, and she would often pause and talk briefly to him. "How's school, Bill? You get that algebra problem you told me about? Oh, it's okay honey. I had trouble with Math too. All the way through College." Later, she would often comment about his football career. "Two touchdowns Saturday, Bill? Too bad you guys lost. You okay with that? You know, havin' a good game but still losing? It used to piss Eddie off, when he..." She had stopped, a sad look on her face, and he would reach out and touch her at times like that, gripping her arm, or her hand. Her smell would be on him, then, and when he went home and beat off as he did each day he saw her, he would sniff the residual odor. He once hit the ceiling of the bathroom with his jism when his whole hand had gotten wet with her.

His dad was after him to give the paper route up, wanting him to concentrate on football and his grades. But Billy knew he would end up at State University with a scholarship, in spite of his dad's dreams of Notre Dame. His grades were mediocre, he was long on size and strength, but short on speed. He'd get a scholarship, have a good five years, then come back to work in the family Wholesale business. No one knew about the poetry he wrote in the journal he locked in his closet. Ever since he first saw Maggie.

"Thy sweet, sweet presence fills my soul,

With dreams of love, and growing old,

To taste thee in that lovely fold

Where I would be were I but bold."

His cock was stiffening as he thought about whether Jen would have any new tidbits for him today, and was startled when Kelly punched his arm. He looked up in surprise, as she bumped him with her hip. "God, you were juicy last night, Billy. I think there's still some in there. Will you pick me up after the game tonight?"

He was used to changing gears quickly, and answered "Sure, babe. You gonna wear that black thing? And the stockings? You know how that turns me on." The blonde chuckled. As she walked away, trying to twist her hips in a sexy way, the image of Maggie's firm ass leaped into his mind.

Jenny Warren shivered as her hand pummeled her clitoris. She couldn't help it, no matter how many times she told herself to resist this wild desire for that black slut. That fat, hairy, kinky pussy. Those big, wobbly tits, with nipples that were the size of a fingertip, tilted slightly down, but stiff under the water. That smell of her sweat, sweet, dank, as Jenny would hold the wet leotard against her face when she could time it just so, getting out of the shower before Maggie. The sight of that smooth black hair, she'd seen a couple of gray ones out in the gym today. Jenny could smell her own cream now, bubbling up, as her hand worked faster and faster. Had to finish quick, before Billy got home. He'd quiz the hell out of her, and she had to get off so she wouldn't show her own excitement.

Her peak came, washing over her, and she giggled as she used her other hand to cup underneath her seeping hole. As she sniffed the hand, she wondered what Maggie's smelled like. It would be different, she was sure. Probably still tart, but maybe a bit of that sweetness. Her friend Jennifer tasted acrid, rather bitter. Jenny liked her own taste better, and licked her hand. That gave her another surge of orgasmic pleasure.

She heard Billy running up the stairs just as she was drying herself off from her second shower in the last hour, trying to keep calm. Lately, that one cum didn't satisfy her, and she felt edgy now. She slipped her white cotton panties on, then her cheerleader shorts. The bulky white sweater was a little warm, but kept her braless tits from showing. Once Billy left, she was thinking, maybe she'd do it again. Just that thought caused her a wave of excitement.

It often happened, the runners high, when Maggie had had a workout the day before. As she made the turn out of the park, thinking that was one good thing about this town, she didn't have to worry about getting mugged or waylaid as she ran in the early mornings, she saw Bill Warren three blocks over, hurrying toward her house, flipping folded papers onto the ubiquitous front porches. She smiled at her memories of the boy. He had grown up before her eyes, from before Eddie was shot, tall but skinny, shuffling and stuttering when she spoke to him, into the big, good looking Fullback he'd become. Nice kid, she knew he liked to ogle her, and she enjoyed flirting with him, out there in the open, white kid and black woman, both kind of wishing they could drop down to the carefully mowed lawn and fuck each other's brains out.

Somehow, Maggie had assumed the kid was a good lover. It was a confidence when he looked at her, ever since about sophomore year, though she hadn't really noticed for a while, what with being upset about Eddie. But one morning he had touched her on the arm when she had choked up about some memory, without any shame, or fear. Just trying to soothe her, she had thought, but then he started touching her every chance he got. And he didn't have that sheepish look, just a nice smile. She enjoyed it. He probably just had lascivious dreams about her every once in a while, then fucked the shit out of some blonde.

She slowed down a little, so she would arrive home just as he got there. At least this kid liked her, as a person, even sweaty, disheveled and nasty smelling. She chuckled to herself as she rounded the corner toward home, seeing him striding down the block, with his little routine, reach back, fold, flip. She'd often wondered why he had kept delivering papers his senior year, going on nineteen, she assumed College next year. His dad was pretty well off, she thought, some sort of Wholesale business. She got to the gate first, and stopped, arching her back a bit so her boobs stuck up even higher. She knew the nips showed like that, too.

"Hey, stud muffin. You guys win Friday night?" He grinned, it was a nice grin, cocky, open, happy. Ah youth, she thought.

"Yeah, we did, Maggie. Killed 'em." He handed her the paper, and dragged the back of his hand over her forearm. She shook her head, and with her runners euphoria still churning her, leered at him, and took a step closer.

"Bill. Whatever are you doing?" She let a coquettish lilt into her words, and batted her eyes at him. She saw him swallow, then reach out to the side of her ribs, under the arms, where she was so wet. He rubbed the flat of his hand firmly there, then holding her eyes, lifted it up under his nose and sniffed deeply. Then he closed his eyes, and sighed.

Maggie felt the flush of it down to her toes. Part of her mind screamed "You fool, lettin' him show his puppy love." The other part roared "A nice young stud, bet he's got a big honky cock, would love to jump your bones. Mmmmmm." She felt a pulse in her cunt.

Billy opened his eyes and stared at her. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but she didn't back away. Her eyes had popped open when he breathed her smell, and he wasn't sure what he should do. It seemed like an opportunity he'd been waiting for all these years. A step toward intimacy, a chance to let her know how much he loved her. He remembered the four by five card with his favorite poem about her he'd been carrying each morning for weeks, sitting in his back pocket. He reached back and whipped it out, slipping it into the paper. "I... I wrote that for you, Maggie" he whispered.

She looked down, pulled it out, and read it quickly. Then she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, still holding the poem, and he thought he saw a little tear in her eye. "Jesus, Billy. I mean..." She kept staring at him, her hand still at her mouth, breathing hard, it seemed to him. She took a step backward and walked toward her front door, slowly. His heart sank. Don't go, Maggie. Don't go.

She stopped ten feet away, head down. Then he heard her whisper "Why don't you come to the back door when you're finished your route, Bill. I'll give you some coffee." She glanced at him over her shoulder, shyly he thought, and headed down the walk. His face was flushed as he watched her wobble so enticingly, her long legs so fit, the black skin so shiny in the morning's soft light. He covered his nose with his hand, and realized his cock was standing straight out.

"If only I could feel thy hand, the firm black texture of it warm.

If only I could breathe thy presence, inhale it deeply,

Into my soul, and nourish it there.

If only I could heal thee, make thee cry for me.

Only then, having known heaven, could I die."

Maggie leaned back against the door, her eyes closed, breathing hard. Christ, kid's got it bad. Never thought, jesus, writing poetry for me. My fault, my fault, teasing him. But why did I invite him back? She felt the flush in her groin, the heat in her nipples, and knew. She was a horny black bitch. She wanted to get laid, and a strong young stud like Bill would be terrific. Oh shit, she thought. What the fuck are you doing, Margaret?

Her mind in a turmoil, she trotted to the back door, looking out as she unlocked it. Eddie had built the arbor leading all the way back to the woods behind, vining roses on both sides, making a walkway. He had loved to drag her out there on warm summer's nights, and they would scream out their passion under the stars. One of their neighbor's had once alluded to the noise, but with a smile on his face. She had never told Eddie, who thought the thick bushes muffled the sounds. She felt the tingling in her pussy again. Bill could sneak in from the woods.

Without thinking, she raced into the bathroom, and jumped under the shower. The diaphragm. Where's the fucking diaphragm? She toweled off quickly, and ripped open the vanity's drawer. There, back in the back. She squirted the salve in the rubber cup, then pushed it up inside her. Eddie had turned out to have gotten sterile in 'Nam, the bastard, though she couldn't blame him for refusing to go two years without a piece of ass. She'd needed the birth control for her little escapades from time to time. God, she thought, the thing is ten years old. Well, fuck it.

She pulled on the lacy black bra, the matching thong panties, and her white opaque dressing gown. The black underwear on her dark skin would be almost invisible through the soft, nearly transparent material. What the fuck am I doing? She raced over to the kitchen.

He was standing there, framed in the screen door, shifting from side to side. When he saw her come hurrying toward him, his eyes widened, he got alert, and she grabbed open the door, pulling him in, mumbling "Shit, kid, somebody could see you. Did you come in from the woods? Think anybody saw you?"

He stumbled as he slid over against the counter, while she stared at him, breathing hard. He started whispering "God Maggie, do you know how long, uh, how much, uh, geez..." She threw herself at him.

He couldn't remember, later, how they got there. Everything was a feverish blur, her smell different, kind of peach soap. Her hips humping against his. Those big soft pillows against his chest. Stumbling and tripping into the bedroom, ripping off their clothes, his first sight of the black tits he had dreamed of so often, jiggling and swaying as she bent over pushing down her panties. That incredibly thick pussy hair, black and shiny at the bottom where her slit was, though he couldn't see it. Her eyes brightening when she saw his penis, cooing "Mmm, big honky cock. Bring that baby over to Mama, honey."

The taste of her pussy as he felt her mouth swallow his prick down to it's root, her creaming, wet twat tasting dark, almost sweet, with that hint of her sweat. The vague sense of urgency in his mind to eat her pussy better than he had ever eaten one before, licking wildly, searching for a bump, then finding a thick stub that made her jump and moan when he sucked on it. Hearing her almost scream after a few minutes, and her hips jolting against his mouth frantically. Then her soft "Oooh, baby, baby." as she seemed to relax. Feeling her pulling at him, making him twist around so they lay together, kissing, her tongue lighting fires in his groin. His memories got clearer as she pulled him on top of her, and he felt her raspy hand grip his throbbing tool, and sink it into her, grabbing his ass and pulling him all the way in.

No complaining, no flinching as he sunk to her depths, her wet mouth sucking on his. "Easy, baby, easy" as he started to fuck. Her mouth's taste, like her smell, like her cunt, earthy, sweet, a dark taste, so unlike Kelly and all of them. She seemed to move with him as he felt swallowed by her smooth skin and her full body, her legs pulling, time standing still. Marveling that he didn't pop, with the thrills so far above any other fuck he'd ever had. Starting to go harder as she became frantic, then feeling spasming in her cunt, then humping even harder back at him, then his nut exploding, arching wildly, heart seeming to thump like a drum. Watching her grimacing, smiling face as she worked her hips, feeling the top of her slit against his boner. Collapsing on top of her, hearing her whispering "Baby, baby, baby" as she smoothed his hair.

He was gasping harder than she was, as he became aware his weight was totally on her body, and slipped off to the side, still kissing her cheeks, her ear, smelling her hair, so different, but still somehow familiar from all the years of yearning for her. He remembered clearly leaning down and sucking on one of those big nipples, feeling it harden, feeling the flesh heave around his mouth. He sensed their legs intertwined as they lay on their sides, a thigh undulating gently against his soft, wet tool. He murmured again and again to her "Maggie, Maggie, I love you."

He remembered hardening again as she stroked him, hearing her cooing softly "Oh Billy, Billy, good, here it comes again, mmmm baby, Mama wants another taste, honey, Mama needs her baby." Entering her gently, still on their sides, losing himself, until, much later it seemed, he vaulted on top of her, groaning and climbing, and filled her body with his cum again. He had a vague idea she had gotten off a couple of times, but wasn't ever sure.

Her helping him dress, smiling, kissing him, sometimes softly, sometimes with wide open mouth, noisy and sucking. Telling him to come back when he could, through the woods, "Be careful, honey, so no one sees you." Staggering down the green vined walk into the darkness of the forest, tripping over a vine, hearing her call quietly "You okay, Bill?" Nodding, brushing himself off, and heading for home. Halfway there, stopping, wanting to go back and ask her if he had been a good lover. Wanting to tell her he loved her again.

Jenny heard Billy come in from his paper route, late, and then the shower running. That was strange, she thought, he usually just went to the bathroom, then straight to the kitchen to eat. As she heard him go past her door, she peeked out to watch his back going down the stairs, and snuck into his room. Clothes were strewn wildly around, she found his jockeys, and smelled the crotch. Jesus Christ, she thought. It's her smell. Maggie. Oh my god.

She sat listening to the minister drone on, something about God's retribution for sin, a prelude to an appeal for a larger target for the annual fund drive. Church has a goddamn trust fund that could build a whole new building, she thought, and he wants us to beef up the pitch. Suddenly it seemed so dreary, so suffocating. She wanted to run out the door, rip off her clothes, and go singing down the street. She felt so happy, so well fucked.

His weight. That was a surprise. Heavier than Eddie had been, probably all that kid's muscle from working out, trying to bulk up for football. And he had held off so well, maybe he'd gotten laid the night before, but so what? He got it up again nice and quick, and she had three great cums the second time. Man, had she been horny. Lordy, she wondered, what am I getting myself in for? She thought through his age, and guessed his mother was probably a little younger than she was. There was a picture in her mind of a dowdy, heavy set woman with a prim, prunish face.

As the minister began discussing who would be in a position to increase their tithing, she was mostly wondering how to keep it a secret. She didn't think it was illegal, because he was eighteen, though she wasn't exactly sure of the statuatory rape ages here. It was terribly risky during the day, for all she knew one of the neighbors might have seen them today. She thought it would be easier at night, and she'd always kept her windows drawn in the kitchen and bedroom anyway, so all she had to do was draw the blind on that one in the hall, and he could get to her bedroom without being seen from outside. But a small part of her wondered if maybe she was just another notch on his gun, just a bragging piece of tail.

No, no he had kept repeating he loved her. And that poem. But how could it end? He'd get tired of her, and want to tell someone. Maybe he'd try to get her to put out for his buddies. Well, fuck that. It would be his word against hers, and he had to think about keeping straight so he wouldn't have a problem getting into school. Shit, don't look for trouble, Maggie. How did she feel about him? It had been very tender, very sweet. He really tried, and made up for his inexperience with enthusiasm. A little coaching and he'd be a good cunt eater. She knew he had been surprised by her clitty. Went wild down there, she had to pull him away. Damn, it was nice to feel loved again.

She ended up on Mrs. Slocum's committee, and they put her in charge of the Police Department. Surprise, surprise. Just once she'd like to see what some of those honky businessmen would do if she came in their offices, crossed her legs, flashed a little tit, and asked them for money. Alma chuckled as she drove them home. "Wha' fo we show up, dey give us da same job evy' year." It was always fun to drop into the old funky talk when they were together.

"Yo sho is quiet, baby. Sumpin on yo mind?" Maggie smiled and grunted "Tinkin da same ting mahself, honey. Honky ho's, playin da sho tings. Ahh, fuck it." Waving goodbye, as the car pulled the hundred yards down the street to her small brick two story. It was never a sure thing that Alma's old Buick would make the round trip, but she always insisted on sharing the driving. Tonight was the first night in a long time that Maggie hadn't worried about it.

She flipped off the porch light as she locked the door, and went toward the kitchen for a beer. Man, she'd sleep well tonight. But even before she got there, she heard a gentle rapping. Oh jesus, he was at the back door. She didn't turn the kitchen light on. Slipping the door open with the safety clasp still in place, she whispered "Anybody there?"

His voice quavering, he answered "Hey Maggie, uh, it's me."

She was surprised to feel her stomach flip, and a thrill run down her spine. Ah youth, she thought as she opened the door, pulled him into her arms, and pressed against him while closing the door again. "Hey, baby. Back so soon? Didn't I wear you out this morning?" In the dim shadows his face showed a flinch of fear. "Ah geez, Maggie, I, well, I mean I wanted to ask you a couple of questions. I mean, we don't have to, you know, do anything, if you don't..." She smiled and put her hand behind his head. He felt tentative when their lips met, but as she opened her mouth, sucked, and began tonguing him, he relaxed, and pulled her tight. She felt his cock hardening. He smelled nice and clean, and had a fruity cologne on. Her mind jumped to the half empty bottle of musky stuff Eddie had always used, and she giggled with the thought of having Bill wear it. Wonder what other people would think if he wore it all the time?

She felt nice and warm, surrounded, protected in his strong embrace. You couldn't tell he was white, or young, in this light, she thought, he was just a man, wanting her, needing her body. She relaxed to the kiss, letting it go on and on. Finally, she pulled back, breathing hard. He had the look. Hot, horny, ready to go. "Reach behind and unzip me, Bill. This ol' dress makes me look like an old woman." He grinned as he fumbled around.

"Oh Maggie" he groaned.

She realized she had been thinking this might happen when she found just her short black slip all she had put on. No bra, no panties. She still had the diaphragm in. A surge of lust ran down her stomach and into her pussy. Her young stud. Her hot cunt. She grabbed his ass, and pulled him into her. He groaned, nicely, she felt, making her feel wanted. Again. Mmmmm.

Billy Warren thought he was in heaven. Her smell was kind of a combination of this morning after she showered and her sweaty, after run odor. He felt her doing something with one hand, and when he pulled slightly away, realized she had let her hair down, framing her face, smiling as her hand dipped down between their bodies, and grabbed his pulsing cock. He felt excitement start to build, and humped gently into her hand. She giggled, and breathed "Easy honey, no hurry now, c'mon."

As she pulled him toward the bedroom, she stopped him and pulled a blind down on one window. As they entered the dark room, just a bit of moonlight slanting in one window, she spoke right out loud. "Now baby, lets just take our time, okay? You were out of your mind this morning, I mean I know how it feels, I felt it too, but we're gonna fuck, you don't have to worry." She dropped into a negro jargon. "Yo' gonna get a piece o' my black ass, honey. Strip yo' fine se'f fo' action, stud muffin. Ah's gonn git some candles."

She let her anger push the damn weight, straining her midsection, feeling the pull all the way to her pussy. Fuck you, machine. Fuck you. Take that. Ungh. And that. Suddenly, the first hint of a pull in her thigh warned her she had reached her body's limit. No matter what she did, which machine she used, her abs never twinged, never gave out. It was always the goddamn legs. In spite of the jogging.

Maggie lay there gasping, the bar still resting on the top of her feet, sweat pouring down her leotard between her fat tits. She knew she smelled different than all the honky bitches, a subtle sweetness, muskier than their pale, acrid odor. She liked hers best. Her mind buzzed as it always did when she was gasping like this. Shit. What the fuck's the point? She was gonna turn fifty next month, hadn't been laid in three years, beat her brains out keeping her tall, ripe body in shape, waiting for, what? Some young black stud? In this Midwestern town, with it's corn fed, handsome, all white farmboys, whose big night out was the Friday night high school football game? There was one other black family in town, the Smithers, two doors down, but Alma worried she'd tempt Horace, so they saw little of each other these days.

Her husband's police officer buddies tried, they couldn't have been nicer, really, but they were all married. They all felt an obligation to her since Eddie'd gotten himself shot in that botched robbery, and were amazingly kind about visiting him in the VA hospital every month or so. But, of course, he just lay there, the ventilator working his lungs, eyes closed, being fed through a tube. Maggie's heart twinged for the poor son of a bitch, trapped there, in a State that wouldn't let her pull the plug. The health coverage for the cops in this town was so good, he'd still be going three years from now, and meantime, Maggie was trapped.

She slipped her feet sideways to the floor and sat up, grabbing the towel and wiping her face and chest. She caught the skinny kid behind the towel rack ogling her. That was the thing that drove her nuts. She had the strangest collection of men hit on her. With the innate prejudice of this area that had been just north of the Mason-Dixon line, it took some courage to even consider dating a black woman, particularly one who was coal black, though her features were the small nosed, big eyed, distinctly non African, white style beauty of her quadroon grandmother. She'd never been sure, but there had always been talk about a white New Orleans politician way back there in the Smith family tree.

When she was younger, they used to say she looked like Dorothy Dandridge. She always scoffed, refusing to let the implied compliment go to her head. Her daddy always told her, keep your feet on the ground, Maggie. She felt a little twinge of guilt, even now, because she realized she still styled her hair like Dot. Anyway, she couldn't carry a goddamn tune in a bucket.

What she got was these skinny liberals from the local high school, wispy hair, glasses, she suspected they couldn't get a hard on in a million years. Thought they were doing her a favor. The fat Puerto Rican cop had made a pass at her too, but he was even worse. Wife had left him for beating on her. Her pussy twinged as she remembered Eddie, his big frame dominating her as no other man ever had, his big cock stroking in her cunt as he mumbled his jive, big city fuck words in her ear. "Hot tits, baby, hot cunt, move that fat ass Maggie, you whore. Love it baby, love that fat thing inside your wet pussy. Oh shit baby, yeah go ahead, feel good? Yeah well hang on, Daddy ain't finished yet honey. Y'okay? Yeah, well lets go, move that black ass. Third time's always the best for you anyway, baby." A shiver lanced through Maggie's pussy as that memory seemed suddenly so vivid. Oh Eddie, you poor, unlucky bastard.

He was otherwise the perfect model of the new black man, light skinned, handsome in a white way, well spoken, with his slight Boston accent, from BU, but he got a boot out of letting people occasionally assume that Harvard was the only school in Massachusetts. They had a good time during the six years they had lived here together, with a middle class bunch of nice white people, and the money, with his Army retirement pay and the Police Lieutenants salary, was terrific. Maggie had no money problems, but she sure wasn't happy.

As she rose and headed for the locker room, she caught a look at herself in the full length mirror. The leotard acted as a girdle, her big tits stood high on her chest, and her ass looked smooth and curvy. The exercise kept her hips from getting flabby, but she couldn't quite get rid of her tummy. Still, she knew it looked sexy, her body, and she had gotten good at detecting the little sideways glances all the young studs gave her. There wasn't a white woman over thirty whose body could hold a candle to hers.

She met the eyes of the mayor's son, a wimpy little guy who looked down, shamefaced, when he realized she had caught him. "Fucking asshole" she thought as she smiled at facing him down. Jenny Warren was taking a shower as she stripped quickly, padded in to the corner away from the young blonde, and turned on the spray. Maggie's tits sagged some when released, but otherwise her muscles held her body up well, though it was full and generous. Young Jenny took a peek, then looked away, blushing. Maggie's West Indian black skin showed few wrinkles, and her thick bush of pubic hair was very prominent. She paid no attention to the embarrassed teen trying to make her slim, cheerleader's body somehow sexier by working out.

The warm water felt good, soothing some of the pain in her leg, taking some of the anger away. Not all, of course. She soaped up her pussy, just as Jenny walked by, blushing. She felt a moment of pity for the poor little rich gal who had never known a black of any age in this white-bread town. But it passed quickly, as she felt a little zing when she rubbed, down there.

Jenny was gone when she finished, though she noticed her leotard had been moved. Must have been in a hurry, young Jen. Maggie's plain white bra was wrinkled as she pulled it out of the gym bag, but smoothed out once she squeezed her boobs in. Just a hint of cleavage, didn't want to look too slutty. There was no one to impress, anyway. It would have been nice to just wear shorts home, and a tank top, but not here in deep middle America. No, her modest silk polka dot, it covered her up, couldn't be criticized, but her ass swaying moved the cloth sexily. I'm not fucking dead, she thought, putting a smile on her pretty, sensual face as she walked out of the locker room. Okay, boys, eat your honky hearts out...

Across town, at that moment, Bill Warren was sitting in study hall, daydreaming about Maggie. He knew Jenny was down there today, and his little sister often came back with tales of the gorgeous nigger's fantastic body and the way it freaked everybody out. Jenny was resigned to the way he grilled her about it now, wanting to know every detail, which machines she used, who else was there, he had even worked up the nerve to ask Jenny about whether Maggie's boobs sagged, was her pussy gray at all, was it thick? He'd been this way ever since freshman year, before her husband got shot, watching her jog as he delivered papers.

The first time she had realized he was her paper boy, she had stopped near her house, the pale morning light damn near letting him see her cunt hair, big nipples poking out, the sweat dripping, staining under her arms, that unique, sweet smell overpowering. That moment lived in his memory. "Hi, honey. Got my paper? Here, I'll take it. What's your name, honey?" Then the sight of her ass, wobbling slightly, a stain in a triangle that ended at her butt crack, as she ran ahead of him and into the large white frame ranch house they lived in.

Since then, it became a ritual, as he tried to time his route so she would be almost finished when he got there, and she would often pause and talk briefly to him. "How's school, Bill? You get that algebra problem you told me about? Oh, it's okay honey. I had trouble with Math too. All the way through College." Later, she would often comment about his football career. "Two touchdowns Saturday, Bill? Too bad you guys lost. You okay with that? You know, havin' a good game but still losing? It used to piss Eddie off, when he..." She had stopped, a sad look on her face, and he would reach out and touch her at times like that, gripping her arm, or her hand. Her smell would be on him, then, and when he went home and beat off as he did each day he saw her, he would sniff the residual odor. He once hit the ceiling of the bathroom with his jism when his whole hand had gotten wet with her.

His dad was after him to give the paper route up, wanting him to concentrate on football and his grades. But Billy knew he would end up at State University with a scholarship, in spite of his dad's dreams of Notre Dame. His grades were mediocre, he was long on size and strength, but short on speed. He'd get a scholarship, have a good five years, then come back to work in the family Wholesale business. No one knew about the poetry he wrote in the journal he locked in his closet. Ever since he first saw Maggie.

"Thy sweet, sweet presence fills my soul,

With dreams of love, and growing old,

To taste thee in that lovely fold

Where I would be were I but bold."

His cock was stiffening as he thought about whether Jen would have any new tidbits for him today, and was startled when Kelly punched his arm. He looked up in surprise, as she bumped him with her hip. "God, you were juicy last night, Billy. I think there's still some in there. Will you pick me up after the game tonight?"

He was used to changing gears quickly, and answered "Sure, babe. You gonna wear that black thing? And the stockings? You know how that turns me on." The blonde chuckled. As she walked away, trying to twist her hips in a sexy way, the image of Maggie's firm ass leaped into his mind.

Jenny Warren shivered as her hand pummeled her clitoris. She couldn't help it, no matter how many times she told herself to resist this wild desire for that black slut. That fat, hairy, kinky pussy. Those big, wobbly tits, with nipples that were the size of a fingertip, tilted slightly down, but stiff under the water. That smell of her sweat, sweet, dank, as Jenny would hold the wet leotard against her face when she could time it just so, getting out of the shower before Maggie. The sight of that smooth black hair, she'd seen a couple of gray ones out in the gym today. Jenny could smell her own cream now, bubbling up, as her hand worked faster and faster. Had to finish quick, before Billy got home. He'd quiz the hell out of her, and she had to get off so she wouldn't show her own excitement.

Her peak came, washing over her, and she giggled as she used her other hand to cup underneath her seeping hole. As she sniffed the hand, she wondered what Maggie's smelled like. It would be different, she was sure. Probably still tart, but maybe a bit of that sweetness. Her friend Jennifer tasted acrid, rather bitter. Jenny liked her own taste better, and licked her hand. That gave her another surge of orgasmic pleasure.

She heard Billy running up the stairs just as she was drying herself off from her second shower in the last hour, trying to keep calm. Lately, that one cum didn't satisfy her, and she felt edgy now. She slipped her white cotton panties on, then her cheerleader shorts. The bulky white sweater was a little warm, but kept her braless tits from showing. Once Billy left, she was thinking, maybe she'd do it again. Just that thought caused her a wave of excitement.

Chapter 2

It often happened, the runners high, when Maggie had had a workout the day before. As she made the turn out of the park, thinking that was one good thing about this town, she didn't have to worry about getting mugged or waylaid as she ran in the early mornings, she saw Bill Warren three blocks over, hurrying toward her house, flipping folded papers onto the ubiquitous front porches. She smiled at her memories of the boy. He had grown up before her eyes, from before Eddie was shot, tall but skinny, shuffling and stuttering when she spoke to him, into the big, good looking Fullback he'd become. Nice kid, she knew he liked to ogle her, and she enjoyed flirting with him, out there in the open, white kid and black woman, both kind of wishing they could drop down to the carefully mowed lawn and fuck each other's brains out.

Somehow, Maggie had assumed the kid was a good lover. It was a confidence when he looked at her, ever since about sophomore year, though she hadn't really noticed for a while, what with being upset about Eddie. But one morning he had touched her on the arm when she had choked up about some memory, without any shame, or fear. Just trying to soothe her, she had thought, but then he started touching her every chance he got. And he didn't have that sheepish look, just a nice smile. She enjoyed it. He probably just had lascivious dreams about her every once in a while, then fucked the shit out of some blonde.

She slowed down a little, so she would arrive home just as he got there. At least this kid liked her, as a person, even sweaty, disheveled and nasty smelling. She chuckled to herself as she rounded the corner toward home, seeing him striding down the block, with his little routine, reach back, fold, flip. She'd often wondered why he had kept delivering papers his senior year, going on nineteen, she assumed College next year. His dad was pretty well off, she thought, some sort of Wholesale business. She got to the gate first, and stopped, arching her back a bit so her boobs stuck up even higher. She knew the nips showed like that, too.

"Hey, stud muffin. You guys win Friday night?" He grinned, it was a nice grin, cocky, open, happy. Ah youth, she thought.

"Yeah, we did, Maggie. Killed 'em." He handed her the paper, and dragged the back of his hand over her forearm. She shook her head, and with her runners euphoria still churning her, leered at him, and took a step closer.

"Bill. Whatever are you doing?" She let a coquettish lilt into her words, and batted her eyes at him. She saw him swallow, then reach out to the side of her ribs, under the arms, where she was so wet. He rubbed the flat of his hand firmly there, then holding her eyes, lifted it up under his nose and sniffed deeply. Then he closed his eyes, and sighed.

Maggie felt the flush of it down to her toes. Part of her mind screamed "You fool, lettin' him show his puppy love." The other part roared "A nice young stud, bet he's got a big honky cock, would love to jump your bones. Mmmmmm." She felt a pulse in her cunt.

Billy opened his eyes and stared at her. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but she didn't back away. Her eyes had popped open when he breathed her smell, and he wasn't sure what he should do. It seemed like an opportunity he'd been waiting for all these years. A step toward intimacy, a chance to let her know how much he loved her. He remembered the four by five card with his favorite poem about her he'd been carrying each morning for weeks, sitting in his back pocket. He reached back and whipped it out, slipping it into the paper. "I... I wrote that for you, Maggie" he whispered.

She looked down, pulled it out, and read it quickly. Then she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, still holding the poem, and he thought he saw a little tear in her eye. "Jesus, Billy. I mean..." She kept staring at him, her hand still at her mouth, breathing hard, it seemed to him. She took a step backward and walked toward her front door, slowly. His heart sank. Don't go, Maggie. Don't go.

She stopped ten feet away, head down. Then he heard her whisper "Why don't you come to the back door when you're finished your route, Bill. I'll give you some coffee." She glanced at him over her shoulder, shyly he thought, and headed down the walk. His face was flushed as he watched her wobble so enticingly, her long legs so fit, the black skin so shiny in the morning's soft light. He covered his nose with his hand, and realized his cock was standing straight out.

"If only I could feel thy hand, the firm black texture of it warm.

If only I could breathe thy presence, inhale it deeply,

Into my soul, and nourish it there.

If only I could heal thee, make thee cry for me.

Only then, having known heaven, could I die."

Maggie leaned back against the door, her eyes closed, breathing hard. Christ, kid's got it bad. Never thought, jesus, writing poetry for me. My fault, my fault, teasing him. But why did I invite him back? She felt the flush in her groin, the heat in her nipples, and knew. She was a horny black bitch. She wanted to get laid, and a strong young stud like Bill would be terrific. Oh shit, she thought. What the fuck are you doing, Margaret?

Her mind in a turmoil, she trotted to the back door, looking out as she unlocked it. Eddie had built the arbor leading all the way back to the woods behind, vining roses on both sides, making a walkway. He had loved to drag her out there on warm summer's nights, and they would scream out their passion under the stars. One of their neighbor's had once alluded to the noise, but with a smile on his face. She had never told Eddie, who thought the thick bushes muffled the sounds. She felt the tingling in her pussy again. Bill could sneak in from the woods.

Without thinking, she raced into the bathroom, and jumped under the shower. The diaphragm. Where's the fucking diaphragm? She toweled off quickly, and ripped open the vanity's drawer. There, back in the back. She squirted the salve in the rubber cup, then pushed it up inside her. Eddie had turned out to have gotten sterile in 'Nam, the bastard, though she couldn't blame him for refusing to go two years without a piece of ass. She'd needed the birth control for her little escapades from time to time. God, she thought, the thing is ten years old. Well, fuck it.

She pulled on the lacy black bra, the matching thong panties, and her white opaque dressing gown. The black underwear on her dark skin would be almost invisible through the soft, nearly transparent material. What the fuck am I doing? She raced over to the kitchen.

He was standing there, framed in the screen door, shifting from side to side. When he saw her come hurrying toward him, his eyes widened, he got alert, and she grabbed open the door, pulling him in, mumbling "Shit, kid, somebody could see you. Did you come in from the woods? Think anybody saw you?"

He stumbled as he slid over against the counter, while she stared at him, breathing hard. He started whispering "God Maggie, do you know how long, uh, how much, uh, geez..." She threw herself at him.

He couldn't remember, later, how they got there. Everything was a feverish blur, her smell different, kind of peach soap. Her hips humping against his. Those big soft pillows against his chest. Stumbling and tripping into the bedroom, ripping off their clothes, his first sight of the black tits he had dreamed of so often, jiggling and swaying as she bent over pushing down her panties. That incredibly thick pussy hair, black and shiny at the bottom where her slit was, though he couldn't see it. Her eyes brightening when she saw his penis, cooing "Mmm, big honky cock. Bring that baby over to Mama, honey."

The taste of her pussy as he felt her mouth swallow his prick down to it's root, her creaming, wet twat tasting dark, almost sweet, with that hint of her sweat. The vague sense of urgency in his mind to eat her pussy better than he had ever eaten one before, licking wildly, searching for a bump, then finding a thick stub that made her jump and moan when he sucked on it. Hearing her almost scream after a few minutes, and her hips jolting against his mouth frantically. Then her soft "Oooh, baby, baby." as she seemed to relax. Feeling her pulling at him, making him twist around so they lay together, kissing, her tongue lighting fires in his groin. His memories got clearer as she pulled him on top of her, and he felt her raspy hand grip his throbbing tool, and sink it into her, grabbing his ass and pulling him all the way in.

No complaining, no flinching as he sunk to her depths, her wet mouth sucking on his. "Easy, baby, easy" as he started to fuck. Her mouth's taste, like her smell, like her cunt, earthy, sweet, a dark taste, so unlike Kelly and all of them. She seemed to move with him as he felt swallowed by her smooth skin and her full body, her legs pulling, time standing still. Marveling that he didn't pop, with the thrills so far above any other fuck he'd ever had. Starting to go harder as she became frantic, then feeling spasming in her cunt, then humping even harder back at him, then his nut exploding, arching wildly, heart seeming to thump like a drum. Watching her grimacing, smiling face as she worked her hips, feeling the top of her slit against his boner. Collapsing on top of her, hearing her whispering "Baby, baby, baby" as she smoothed his hair.

He was gasping harder than she was, as he became aware his weight was totally on her body, and slipped off to the side, still kissing her cheeks, her ear, smelling her hair, so different, but still somehow familiar from all the years of yearning for her. He remembered clearly leaning down and sucking on one of those big nipples, feeling it harden, feeling the flesh heave around his mouth. He sensed their legs intertwined as they lay on their sides, a thigh undulating gently against his soft, wet tool. He murmured again and again to her "Maggie, Maggie, I love you."

He remembered hardening again as she stroked him, hearing her cooing softly "Oh Billy, Billy, good, here it comes again, mmmm baby, Mama wants another taste, honey, Mama needs her baby." Entering her gently, still on their sides, losing himself, until, much later it seemed, he vaulted on top of her, groaning and climbing, and filled her body with his cum again. He had a vague idea she had gotten off a couple of times, but wasn't ever sure.

Her helping him dress, smiling, kissing him, sometimes softly, sometimes with wide open mouth, noisy and sucking. Telling him to come back when he could, through the woods, "Be careful, honey, so no one sees you." Staggering down the green vined walk into the darkness of the forest, tripping over a vine, hearing her call quietly "You okay, Bill?" Nodding, brushing himself off, and heading for home. Halfway there, stopping, wanting to go back and ask her if he had been a good lover. Wanting to tell her he loved her again.

Jenny heard Billy come in from his paper route, late, and then the shower running. That was strange, she thought, he usually just went to the bathroom, then straight to the kitchen to eat. As she heard him go past her door, she peeked out to watch his back going down the stairs, and snuck into his room. Clothes were strewn wildly around, she found his jockeys, and smelled the crotch. Jesus Christ, she thought. It's her smell. Maggie. Oh my god.

Chapter 3

She sat listening to the minister drone on, something about God's retribution for sin, a prelude to an appeal for a larger target for the annual fund drive. Church has a goddamn trust fund that could build a whole new building, she thought, and he wants us to beef up the pitch. Suddenly it seemed so dreary, so suffocating. She wanted to run out the door, rip off her clothes, and go singing down the street. She felt so happy, so well fucked.

His weight. That was a surprise. Heavier than Eddie had been, probably all that kid's muscle from working out, trying to bulk up for football. And he had held off so well, maybe he'd gotten laid the night before, but so what? He got it up again nice and quick, and she had three great cums the second time. Man, had she been horny. Lordy, she wondered, what am I getting myself in for? She thought through his age, and guessed his mother was probably a little younger than she was. There was a picture in her mind of a dowdy, heavy set woman with a prim, prunish face.

As the minister began discussing who would be in a position to increase their tithing, she was mostly wondering how to keep it a secret. She didn't think it was illegal, because he was eighteen, though she wasn't exactly sure of the statuatory rape ages here. It was terribly risky during the day, for all she knew one of the neighbors might have seen them today. She thought it would be easier at night, and she'd always kept her windows drawn in the kitchen and bedroom anyway, so all she had to do was draw the blind on that one in the hall, and he could get to her bedroom without being seen from outside. But a small part of her wondered if maybe she was just another notch on his gun, just a bragging piece of tail.

No, no he had kept repeating he loved her. And that poem. But how could it end? He'd get tired of her, and want to tell someone. Maybe he'd try to get her to put out for his buddies. Well, fuck that. It would be his word against hers, and he had to think about keeping straight so he wouldn't have a problem getting into school. Shit, don't look for trouble, Maggie. How did she feel about him? It had been very tender, very sweet. He really tried, and made up for his inexperience with enthusiasm. A little coaching and he'd be a good cunt eater. She knew he had been surprised by her clitty. Went wild down there, she had to pull him away. Damn, it was nice to feel loved again.

She ended up on Mrs. Slocum's committee, and they put her in charge of the Police Department. Surprise, surprise. Just once she'd like to see what some of those honky businessmen would do if she came in their offices, crossed her legs, flashed a little tit, and asked them for money. Alma chuckled as she drove them home. "Wha' fo we show up, dey give us da same job evy' year." It was always fun to drop into the old funky talk when they were together.

"Yo sho is quiet, baby. Sumpin on yo mind?" Maggie smiled and grunted "Tinkin da same ting mahself, honey. Honky ho's, playin da sho tings. Ahh, fuck it." Waving goodbye, as the car pulled the hundred yards down the street to her small brick two story. It was never a sure thing that Alma's old Buick would make the round trip, but she always insisted on sharing the driving. Tonight was the first night in a long time that Maggie hadn't worried about it.

She flipped off the porch light as she locked the door, and went toward the kitchen for a beer. Man, she'd sleep well tonight. But even before she got there, she heard a gentle rapping. Oh jesus, he was at the back door. She didn't turn the kitchen light on. Slipping the door open with the safety clasp still in place, she whispered "Anybody there?"

His voice quavering, he answered "Hey Maggie, uh, it's me."

She was surprised to feel her stomach flip, and a thrill run down her spine. Ah youth, she thought as she opened the door, pulled him into her arms, and pressed against him while closing the door again. "Hey, baby. Back so soon? Didn't I wear you out this morning?" In the dim shadows his face showed a flinch of fear. "Ah geez, Maggie, I, well, I mean I wanted to ask you a couple of questions. I mean, we don't have to, you know, do anything, if you don't..." She smiled and put her hand behind his head. He felt tentative when their lips met, but as she opened her mouth, sucked, and began tonguing him, he relaxed, and pulled her tight. She felt his cock hardening. He smelled nice and clean, and had a fruity cologne on. Her mind jumped to the half empty bottle of musky stuff Eddie had always used, and she giggled with the thought of having Bill wear it. Wonder what other people would think if he wore it all the time?

She felt nice and warm, surrounded, protected in his strong embrace. You couldn't tell he was white, or young, in this light, she thought, he was just a man, wanting her, needing her body. She relaxed to the kiss, letting it go on and on. Finally, she pulled back, breathing hard. He had the look. Hot, horny, ready to go. "Reach behind and unzip me, Bill. This ol' dress makes me look like an old woman." He grinned as he fumbled around.

"Oh Maggie" he groaned.

She realized she had been thinking this might happen when she found just her short black slip all she had put on. No bra, no panties. She still had the diaphragm in. A surge of lust ran down her stomach and into her pussy. Her young stud. Her hot cunt. She grabbed his ass, and pulled him into her. He groaned, nicely, she felt, making her feel wanted. Again. Mmmmm.

Billy Warren thought he was in heaven. Her smell was kind of a combination of this morning after she showered and her sweaty, after run odor. He felt her doing something with one hand, and when he pulled slightly away, realized she had let her hair down, framing her face, smiling as her hand dipped down between their bodies, and grabbed his pulsing cock. He felt excitement start to build, and humped gently into her hand. She giggled, and breathed "Easy honey, no hurry now, c'mon."

As she pulled him toward the bedroom, she stopped him and pulled a blind down on one window. As they entered the dark room, just a bit of moonlight slanting in one window, she spoke right out loud. "Now baby, lets just take our time, okay? You were out of your mind this morning, I mean I know how it feels, I felt it too, but we're gonna fuck, you don't have to worry." She dropped into a negro jargon. "Yo' gonna get a piece o' my black ass, honey. Strip yo' fine se'f fo' action, stud muffin. Ah's gonn git some candles."