Captain Janeway Captain s Slave
- 4 years ago
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{date:2020-08-10a}
Marjorie Purcell took the two weeks between the last of picking season and the Christmas week straightening out evening-school students who kept coming on the wrong nights – or who came on the wrong night for the first time long after school resumed. She did notice that the good-looking, light-skinned one, Ab, came on the nights he’d been told before the picking break. He attended most nights he should, too.
Only some slavery had ended, she noted wryly. There were a great many more men than women in the evening classes. The women stayed home to care for the children. In the daytime classes she taught, most days there was a lesser imbalance of the sexes. When somebody had to stay home to help with younger children, though, it was a girl who did it. Probably some boys, boys with no sister of the appropriate age, cared for children, too. Marjorie didn’t hear of that.
She stopped teaching in her advanced class one night. “You know that we have beginning classes for your area, don’t you?” she asked. She got the usual enthusiastic agreement. She no longer gave much attention to that; she would have to judge their degree of knowledge for herself.
“How many of the men here have women at home? Raise your hand. I don’t mean women who are in the class now.” A good many hands went up. “They could go to the beginning class next Tuesday; you could watch the children.”
“Got no teats,” one man muttered.
“That’s perfectly true,” she answered. She decided to not repeat the answer. She was a lady, and a lady didn’t mention breasts, much less the word he’d used. “Some nursing mothers must stay home. Others can bring that child here as long as it is too young to walk.” There were already infants in the room, and some toddlers who were not too young to walk, although they tried to emphasize that rule. Once the child was in the building, what could you do? You couldn’t send the mother home without other company. “But the man can take care of the other children, and if the mother isn’t nursing, he can take care of all the children.”
She knew that it was probably a lost cause. Still, there were young women hearing her, and they would remember when they were married, and their husbands tried to leave them behind.
The freedmen had so much to learn! They wanted to learn reading and writing. They knew that this was the mark of a free man. They wanted, the Lord be thanked, to get married. They’d been treated as herd animals too long. Despite constant preaching, they were less eager to wait until the vows had been said. They had no standards of cleanliness, and their former masters certainly had not had New-England standards of cleanliness. Their bodily modesty did not satisfy her standards.
Still the major responsibility of teachers was the reading, writing, and reckoning. General Warren kept pressing them on the reckoning part of teaching. He was correct about its importance; he did not seem to see that everything that they taught was critical. But having your own money gave you little freedom if you could not add and subtract.
They taught some history and geography, too. Many of their students had never seen a map of the World, of the United States, or even of the state of Alabama. Some of them had come from far away, all of the veterans but also many of the freedmen. Some of the older ones had been brought here when their masters came; more of them had been imported in coffles as the fields of Alabama required more and more workers. Some had been the portable property of refugees fleeing the Yankee advance. With the classroom maps, they could trace their journeys, or – at least – the land portion of their journeys.
Attendance was better in the winter than it had been in growing season, despite the prevalence of colds and other illnesses.
Things were starting to straighten out. People knew what days of the week they were supposed to come. If they didn’t come those nights, and attendance was really better than it had been in the summer, they at least didn’t come at other times. Even the attendance of children was better, and their tardiness was less. That might have had something to do with the weather outside being cool and rainy. The new class schedule for the evenings had her repeating less and repeating, at least, not quite the rudiments.
Things were busy, but no longer frantic. She was beginning to believe that they could keep this class arrangement for the entire next year.
And, then, General Warren proposed to Deborah.
Marjorie and the other teachers were happy for Deb, of course, and you couldn’t say that it had been a bolt from the blue. He’d said that he was courting her long since.
Still, an engaged woman needed some time to prepare, and the general could have proposed before they had their schedule arranged. Deb’s evening off was Wednesday, and Marjorie merged Deb’s class with her own for Wednesday afternoon. That allowed the engaged couple one half day a week to furnish their house.
The school took the entire week around Christmas off. The wedding was the Sunday leading up to it. The bride had looked frightened, but the newlywed woman looked happy.
Henry Riding was Chief Justice of the State of Alabama because Ben Butler had appeared before him fairly often and had come away impressed with his judicial temperament and knowledge of the law. He’d been less impressed by Butler. Of successful advocates, there were those who won their cases by a superior knowledge of the law applied with close reasoning; there were those who won by rhetoric. Butler was definitely a rhetorician.
On the other hand, he appreciated the problem he had recently faced, and he appreciated Butler’s solution. The state’s constitution rejected the immediate Confederate past and enfranchised Negroes. Many of the legislators in this session and the majority of voters were Negroes. The lawyers in the state were all white and nearly all ex-Confederates. Their consensus rejected the state constitution and recently-passed statutes. If you put them on the bench, they would have happily enforced the laws and the constitution of the past and ignored current rules.
Butler’s solution, and one foreseen by the current state constitution, was to import judges from the north. A court system, though, is more than a bunch of judges. Each state has a set of procedures, and courts within a state can have subtly different procedures. About a third of the current judges in Alabama had practiced law in Massachusetts, fewer in the rest of New England, fewer yet in the middle Atlantic states. Only a small fraction had come from the Old Northwest, and one each from Maryland, Kentucky, and Missouri. The prosecutors had experience about as widely distributed.
If a case came up on appeal because the judge had not followed the procedures required in Connecticut, it might be heard by an appeals court with judges from Maine, New Jersey, and Ohio.
So, he had called judicial councils. The first had been only the state supreme court. They had decided their procedures and had them set in type and distributed to the appeals courts. If you needed a copy of the supreme-court procedures, you were at an appeals court.
The second council had included the supreme court and the chief judges of each appeals court. That has set up uniform appeals-court procedures. Now, he was finishing up the third, and largest, council. This included the second council and one circuit-court judge from each appellate district. He’d held it during sowing time, because the circuit courts couldn’t get a jury then, anyhow. This council was hammering out uniform procedures for the circuit courts. That would move Alabama from a position of chaotic procedures to the forefront of regularity in procedures. Few states had uniform procedures for all their courts of first instance.
“Are we agreed then?” he asked. He would take a majority; if need be, he would take a supreme-court majority. He preferred, though, to talk until they reached agreement. “On the motion of either counsel, the judge may restrict the jury to literate voters.” He recognized a question.
“I would prefer some language that said that the moving counsel must introduce important evidence which the jurors must read. In my circuit, that rule would segregate juries once again.”
“And that the presiding judge retains absolute authority to make that restriction or not, not subject to appeal?”
“Yes, Mr. Chief Justice.”
“Is something like that acceptable to the meeting?” Riding asked. He hadn’t really been a Quaker for decades, but the language still crept in once in a while. “We’ll put it aside, then, and Judge...”
“Marshall.”
“Judge Marshall will bring in suggested language tomorrow. If someone else has an idea for language, consult with Marshall before the meeting.” He thought that they were about to get a set of procedures which would serve them for another decade.
Ab had received a huge amount of money when Green paid him for his cotton. Most of it was left when he paid off the general, the gin, and the man with a mule cart. He wanted to plow the next year, and he went shopping for a mule. That is when he learned that he hadn’t gotten that much money, after all. He found a mule that would cost him less than he had left, but even that mule would cost almost all of it. A mule without a plow wasn’t much use.
Cellus, Ab’s best friend who lived just south of his grant, was older and had a family and a real cabin. Ab was still living in the tent with a pile of branches around it and over it. Tina, Cellus’s wife, had helped farm until she got too big with her second child. They’d taken their cotton to Mr. Green together, and Cellus had brought more cotton than he had. After the general got paid, though, it looked like Cellus didn’t get much cash. Well, Ab hoped he had enough money to buy a plow.
They had taken too eating suppers together on Saturday. Ab contributed more than his share of the makings, but Tina did the cooking.
He was carrying his contribution for the Saturday supper when Tie saw him. Tie was Cellus and Tina’s young son, and when Tie hugged you, you knew you’d been hugged. He lifted the food out of the way and let Tie clasp his knees. A minute later, the tiny boy was running towards the cabin shouting, “Ab, Ab.”
Tina came out and took the chicken and the two onions from his hands. “Wasn’t planning on having chicken tonight,” she said.
“It’ll keep until tomorrow dinner. I wanted to talk with Cellus.” He kept the cornmeal and walked the few steps left to get to the cabin.
Even without the chicken, Tina cooked a much better meal than Ab could have cooked for himself. She was the first real friend he had had who was a woman. He thought her full name, Concertina, was among the prettiest he had heard. Ab was a healthy man living alone, and sometimes he had stirrings about Tina. He kept them under wraps, though. Some women were available, and some were not. That had been true even on the plantation. It was just that out here there were far fewer women, and none of them seemed to be available.
He ate the meal with Tie on his lap. When Tie’s squirming got to be the sort that signaled a need instead of merely a wish to get down, he took him out into the fields. Tie spread his legs and squatted. Ab held Tie’s shirt up and braced him. When Tie had both shat and pissed, he wiped him with the corn shucks he had brought and led him back to the cabin. It was cool weather, and Tina took Tie over to the small bedroll next to the stove. She could hear Ab, but his business was with Cellus.
“We’d get better crops if we could plow all the land,” he started. Cellus and Tina had hoed maybe half the land they had. Ab had done worse by himself.
“Sleep more comfortable in the schoolhouse.” Despite what Cellus thought, plowing, unlike owning the schoolhouse, was possible.
“I have been looking at mules. I can get one that looks healthy and young. It would cost almost all the money I got from Massa Green. The general says he won’t give credit unless you have crops in the ground, and I couldn’t pay for the plow.”.
“So, if you had a plow, you could plant enough to buy a plow. It’s always that way. Them as has, gets.”
“I figured that you could buy a plow.”
“Tie’s a little young yet to pull it,” Cellus said, “and Tina’ll be too far along come planting time.
“But, if you have a plow and I have a mule, then you and I will have a mule and a plow. We could plow both farms.”
“You would do that?”
“Go along with him,” Tina suddenly said. “That’s the first idea that I’ve heard that has us ever getting ahead. We owed most of our crop to Massa Warren, and the Bureau has stopped giving rations. We’ll owe it all come next picking.”
“Well,” Ab said, “the general always told me to plant corn, too.”
“Told everybody,” Cellus said. “They told us that we didn’t have to listen to what white men said. Then they tell us everything.”
Ab thought that there was a difference. When an overseer told you to do something and you didn’t, you might get lashed when he found out you hadn’t. When Teacher told you to do something and you didn’t, she looked real sad and taught you the lesson again. Ab found himself working as hard to avoid making Teacher sad as he’d worked to avoid the riding crops that the drivers carried. Lashings were something else, but they had been rare.
Cellus finally agreed. On Monday, Ab talked to the mule man. They met in Montgomery at the Bureau office. The agent read the contract aloud and saw the mule. Ab signed the contract, counted the money, and handed it to the agent. The agent counted it and handed it to the mule man. The mule man counted it. Then he handed the lead rope on the mule to the agent, who handed it to Ab. Ab led the mule, whose name was Martha, maybe half the time going home, but he rode her bareback the rest of the time.
Early in February, ‘67, the evening was dominated by a cold, piercing rain. Sam Warren drove the shay to pick up his wife from school. He left her off at the kitchen door and drove the shay to the stable. He stayed there to rub down Stepper. When he came in, he stripped in the kitchen and hung his clothes from the chairs and the doorknobs. When he got to the bedroom, Deborah had already changed into nightgown and robe.
“I need to start bread tonight if it’s going to rise by morning,” she said.
“Fine. Take the lantern. I’ll just go to bed.”
Deborah Warren should be planning her lessons for the next day, but she thought about her month and a bit of marriage while she mixed the ingredients for the bread. Being married and living with a man had delivered some shocks. The way Sam had just walked into the room naked as a jaybird was one example. All right, they were married, and a married couple could see each other undressed. Indeed, Sam would have been within his rights as a husband to come into the room and watch her change. That would have bothered her, and he respected her modesty. Still, he had no modesty if his own. Sometimes, that bothered her.
So too, did his hairiness and his occasionally farting in the house. The greatest shock, though, was how often he wanted relations. Almost every night the first week, but that was the first week. It had been new and exciting for her, as well. Since then, though – except when she had her period – he had wanted relations several times a week.
More than making up for that was that she had spent what might have been the warmest January of her life. It wasn’t Alabama. She had been in Alabama, in a palatial plantation house in Alabama, the previous January; she had slept cold. The month before her marriage had been almost as bad. Even when Gladys had run a fever which almost killed her at nine, Deborah’s back and legs had been chilly. Sam not only knew how to bank the fire in the Franklin stove so that the stove was warm into the morning, he surrounded Deborah with his body heat. Apparently sleeping in the same bed with a husband was not lying on your back while he lay on his a foot away. It was curling up around his forearm while he curled around you.
.
“Now, Mike,” Governor Butler asked, “Isn’t the station we’re discussing the most convenient location from the point of view of the mills?”
“Yes. You asked me to choose that.”
“And It will improve the efficiency of operating Warren’s store?”
“It should,” Mike admitted. “The supplies will come in a ten-minute wagon trip away instead of two hours. Still, the mill is going to ship ten times as much through the station as the store. I don’t see the sense of calling it, ‘Warren station.’”
Butler could have told Mike that names were a cheap method of rewarding people when you didn’t want to give them more money. That was why the firm was named, “Green-Butler Fabrics,’ when Green would get 10% of the profits. Green had been a foreman when he’d found him; he was beginning to believe that – while he’d have made a perfectly good plant superintendent – making him general superintendent was maybe pushing him beyond his talents.
“Warren is a friend and was a subordinate,” he said. “Nobody is going to blink that I’m sponsoring a railroad station that will benefit him. On the other side of that, nobody – nobody on the Union-Republican side – is going to go on record as opposing the ‘Hero of Andersonville.’ The way you get political power is that you use your political power mostly on issues where you are on the obviously winning side.”
“You’re the Goddam governor.”
“So I am, and if I’d gone for a Butler Station, there’d be northern papers calling me a dictator.”
Butler was beginning to think that the summers weren’t the only reason for preferring a political career in Massachusetts to one in Alabama. Green was fine on the business side, but too direct to be useful in politics. Directness was subtly different from honesty. Green was scheming to make more than the 10% of the profits he had agreed to. Butler was content as long as his profits were sufficiently high.
Warren was a fine ally, but a bit too honest to be a lieutenant. Then too, his marriage was turning him into an idealist. Butler had expected him to ask for the station, but he wouldn’t ask for patronage.
That afternoon, Sam paced off the land he needed for other purposes than cotton. He had a woodlot, and he decided to increase it. He’d asked Deb how much she wanted for a garden. He would take that from the present corn field and add as much to the other end. They’d need a little more corn, too. He gave Stepper a large pasture because he was planning an orchard in later years, and manure would help that. He could haul some out of the stable, but why not let the horse carry his own?
Aside from the yard around store and house, the rest could be planted in cotton.
The next morning, he began plowing. He finished the corn field and garden before dinner. When he plowed the land that was going to grow cotton, he could guide the plow with half his mind while he thought of other things with the other half.
Just when Ab was worrying about what he would do if Cellus didn’t, Cellus bought the plow and tackle. Right before planting time, Ab and Cellus went to the boundary sticks for both places. Each took two paces in from the stick, and then Ab plowed as straight a furrow as he could toward Cellus. Those furrows would be the edge of cultivation. They didn’t want anyone claiming they were farming anyone else’s land. They wanted even their own farms separate. Ab left a large pasture for Martha, the mule, unplowed. He also left some scrubland which would be his woodlot. He was already harvesting some of that for firewood. Cellus and he plowed most of Cellus’s land.
Once planting time was over, he went back to school. That meant reading his spelling book after dark. He went to the store to get more lamp oil and more paper. his pencil was still fairly long. He had a little money left, but it was less than he would need for the meat he planned to buy this year.
“General,” he said, “I have a crop in the ground, now. Can I buy these on credit?”
“Wait just a minute. Didn’t you get a good chunk of cash from Green? I charge less for cash sales. If you don’t have the cash now, what did you spend it on?”
“Bought me a mule. I plowed almost all my land this year. Ought to grow twice as much cotton.”
“Good enough,” the general said. “I don’t think I sold you a plow.”
“Worked with Cellus. His plow, my mule. Both farms fully plowed.”
“Good idea. You go to the school, don’t you? You might tell the others about working together when you’re walking to school or back.”
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An establishing shot of a modern looking school – all identifying signage is digitally masked for privacy reasons, but anyone familiar with the area would immediately recognize the stylized architecture of the building. And then our host steps into frame infront of the sign ... Sexy dimples, and big fake tits pushing out of the top of her sexy black PVC mini-skirted business suit, dominate the first impression. We can’t help but stare at those perfect orbs of flesh as they seem to attempt an...
Once more we fade in on our darkened ‘bedroom’ set. A rusty old metal bedframe, with headboard and footboard, plus a dirty, threadbare mattress laying on squeaky springs. There are no sheets, no blankets, and no pillows – just stains, mostly caused by our the guests who have appeared on the show this year. We pull back from these stains and turn to the side of the set – looking into the darkness of the unlit depths of the room as a figure approaches, feet clicking, or clomping, on the...
Note : This story is completely fictional! My sister is 4 years older than I am.shes what a lot of people call a bbw some just say she's fat.I says she's perfect for me. This is a continuation story about myself and my sister later in our lives. For the first part read my bbw sister. She's always been shy and use to sneak and watch me jacking off when we were younger until I finally told her I knew and let her watch me openly. She finally let me watch her and we got so hot she let me fuck her...
Incest= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = WARNING! This warning is possibly not needed for this particular story, but I am including it because it is needed for most of my stories. If you decide to read other of my stories make sure that you read the disclosures and warnings at the beginning of each story. All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any...
How do you explain to your fiancé that there are dark secrets – even ghosts – in your family history? And that some of those ghosts are not fully relegated to the past.It was a crisp, but not cold, end of October evening in the “middle ground” just north of Vidalia, Louisiana, when Shelly stepped out of the woods and walked across the harvested cotton patch toward a small square of grass and weeds that stuck out almost like an island into the empty field. If you looked closely at that square,...
HistoricalHow do you explain to your fiancé that there are dark secrets – even ghosts – in your family history? And that some of those ghosts are not fully relegated to the past.It was a crisp, but not cold, end of October evening in the “middle ground” just north of Vidalia, Louisiana, when Shelly stepped out of the woods and walked across the harvested cotton patch toward a small square of grass and weeds that stuck out almost like an island into the empty field. If you looked closely at that square,...
HistoricalLooking at the wedding invitation in his hands from his frat brother, Tyrone Milton let his thoughts drift back to the end of his junior year in college. The invitation came from Brad Wilton, the frat brother who had beaten him out of the coveted office of president of the fraternity for their senior year of college. He began to fume as he tossed the invitation off to the side of his desk. "That fucker! I owe him one!" he muttered loudly. The fraternity that Tyrone and Brad Wilson had joined,...
Prior Lives A Short Story By Maryanne Peters I regained consciousness with McLennan's voice in my ear. I looked around his office to get my bearings and noticed the clock on the wall - 4:30 - I had apparently been asleep for well over an hour. "Well I have to say that it was most interesting", he said, flipping over some notes in his hand. "And I can tell you that I have reached some conclusions and some possible solutions to your problems." My problems. I prided myself that...
This is a true account recording of an event I experienced as a girl during my student years in Newcastle England. At Uni first year, like most foreign students live in Halls, but unfortunate for myself, as a late starter was boarded in a flat, the upper attic, in a house across the river in Danmark street, Gateshead. Being a Scandinavian girl with all the typical traits associated to females of that origin, I did stand out somewhat, in a very grey looking place, habituated by equally grey...
Sorry if the title is misleading, but young sex and i****tuous sex are the turn-ons for girls like myself and horny guys wanting a dirty female for fun. Of course as a girl on the legal limit, getting a man inside you is just a nod or a wink away. Drinking from a beer bottle and noticing a guy eyeing you, is fun when you give the bottle an extra push into your mouth and withdraw it with a lip sucking extraction, slow and deliberate, to get the message across that this could be your cock and...
Sorry if the title is misleading, but young sex and i****tuous sex are the turn-ons for girls like myself and horny guys wanting a dirty female for fun.Of course as a girl on the legal limit, getting a man inside you is just a nod or a wink away.Drinking from a beer bottle and noticing a guy eyeing you, is fun when you give the bottle an extra push into your mouth and withdraw it with a lip sucking extraction, slow and deliberate, to get the message across that this could be your cock and what...
This is a true account recording of an event I experienced as a girl during my student years in Newcastle England.At Uni first year, like most foreign students live in Halls, but unfortunate for myself, as a late starter was boarded in a flat, the upper attic, in a house across the river in Danmark street, Gateshead.Being a Scandinavian girl with all the typical traits associated to females of that origin, I did stand out somewhat, in a very grey looking place, habituated by equally grey...
We fade in on our regular set – the rusty old bedstead, with the ratty stained mattress, set on a concrete floor in the middle of a dark studio, harshly lit from above by a single spotlight. The bed looks a little different to previous times we’ve seen it, because one end (the foot-end), and its legs, have been removed, leaving a sloping bedframe and mattress. There’s no explanation for the missing ‘footer’ from the bed. There’s a brief pause – then we hear footsteps approaching. Heels...
This week’s show begins with that same old rusty bedstead, and that same old dirty mattress. Pausing to take in the magnificent filthiness of it, then pulling back to reveal the bare concrete floor around it, and to take in the harsh lighting. And then we hear our guest of the week approaching, quick little footsteps ... Light clicks on the studio floor. We pan round to see what we’ve got this week and see a slight, pale, small-boobed lady walking in quick, short strides ... She’s not is a...
We start this week’s show with establishing shots of a large allotment on a sunny day – lots of small gardens sectioned off from one another, middle aged men avoiding their families – growing flowers, vegetables, or just hiding in garden sheds – and then we’re looking at a large blue-grey Weimaraner ... Watching for a moment as he sniffs around the corner of a garden shed, then turns, cocks his leg, and pisses on it... And then, stepping out from behind the shed, catching a little of that...
The yell was almost deafening to the fifteen, almost sixteen years old boy, and his hand, about to grab and pet the turgid breast cringed as if bitten by a scorpion, his face was a masque of confusion, as he sent a look of heartbroken bewilderment to his mother, not understanding the reason for such a fierce cry. He was just trying to do what he thought, both of them, his thirty five years old mother and he wanted, what she had been causing with her permanent and mercilessly erotic and sexualy...
It's 06:00 hours and I couldn't sleep again last night. Six months since my pet Ocempa Kes left the ship and I still haven't found a new plaything. Used to be I'd take the day's frustrations out on Kes, abusing and perverting her young supple body and then sleep like a baby. Now I can't sleep. I step into the sonic shower and close my eyes. I run my hands over my ridges, then down my face and neck to my breast. My nipples need no encouragement they were already rock hard. I slide my hands down...
My name is Paul. I'm a gorgeous lad in his early 20s, with brown, bushy hair and rare black eyes. My mother's name is Christine. She's an amazing red head that looks a lot like Lea Massari in her youth-early middle age (FYI, Lea Massari has starred in an i****t theme film; lol, life's coincidences are hilarious sometimes). My father died a few years ago and bequeathed a small business empire to us. Mommy found trustworthy hands to leave the empire's management to, so the two of us just...
Two Lives By Vanessa Adler Hey there, welcome to my home. My name is Gavin Wilson. I'm married to my college girlfriend and am the father of a baby boy. I work on Wall Street as a financial analyst. Growing up I played high school and college football and high school basketball. I'm pretty much just a regular guy. I like watching sports with my friends at the sports bar, I enjoy action movies and fast cars, and I would think of myself as pretty well built and good looking. At least...
© Copyright 2006, 2007 Dear Readers, The following story is a sequel to the very first one that I wrote, ‘Remembrance’. It is possible to read and understand ‘Renewal’ without reading the earlier work. If you could do so, however, it might enhance your enjoyment of this story. Thank you for choosing my work for your reading pleasure. Whichever you decide, I hope that you like it. Autumn Writer *********** George glanced at Helen as she dozed next to him, her sweater draped around her...
Urban Renewal: A Cautionary Tale By rutger5 (An Original Story – Copyright 2012) Wed always wanted to live in the city, my wife Julianne and I that is. Coming from the suburbs right on the outskirts of New York we already spent a lot of time there going to events and shows plus I worked at a Fortune 500 company located downtown. There were only two problems I saw with moving there. One it is astronomically expensive to buy in NYC. Depending on the neighborhood just an apartment can easily...
My Renewal Synopsis: Justin receives a new lease on life after being punished for being duped into helping commit a crime that leads to a finding out who she is. [-][+][-] Here I am, Justine Renee Jenkins, breastfeeding my son Conner Lance , a robust boy who is like his doting father. We grew up as best friends which is not that remarkable, what is is that I was born a boy named Justin Renee Hall. No, I am not crazy, nor am I telling a whopper of a lie. I can prove it from Court...
Copyright© 2006, 2007 George glanced at Helen as she dozed next to him, her sweater draped around her shoulders. He envied the way she could fit comfortably in the space provided by a seat on an airliner. He was on the aisle, she sat near the window. Even in First Class, his long legs were constantly searching for the right place to be. He refolded them as best he could. He was glad to be on vacation with Helen, but getting there was not 'half the fun'. The flight attendant refilled his...
“And she said Marlasion has the information as well?” Desdra Zardow asks from the monitor. “That is what she said,” Regina confirms. They are just hours from reaching Earth to begin their mission. Regina and Greiss have spent much of the time coming up with a solution as well as other activities. “I’m not sure what actions we can take here on our end,” Desdra says. “Marlasion is the second cousin to the emperor, so that can get tricky. I’m sure I’ll have the board on my side just because...
The small crew consisting of Regina, Greiss, Marion and one other Extroneon landed the small secondary craft just under the canopy next to a little expanse of open field in the middle of forest land. The smaller craft has a large enough cargo bay to store captives until they return to the much larger ship that awaits them back on the opposite side of the moon. Greiss and the other Extroneon are merely with the ship to ensure if anyone stumbles upon the space craft, they won’t be leaving to...
"Well, good morning to you to baby." "Mmm you're awake, I knew that would do the trick." Cydney licked my erect cock up and down before taking it in her mouth. Her blow jobs were magnificent. "This is the perfect way to start the day. How long have you been down there?" "Not too long babe. I couldn't sleep any longer. I wanted to feel your hard dick penetrate my mouth." Cydney started focusing on the tip of my cock and I felt like I was going to go crazy. This girls mouth was magic. "Ready for...
MatureTapping out the last paragraph of another report from an endless reel, flooded me with a renewed sense of apathy. Though I knew without looking that there were only moments remaining in the day, I was not perplexed. The excited snatches of conversation wrung out the end of the day better than any alarm could possibly have. I rose from my desk and my vision remained unnecessary and unfocused. I navigated the clutter of cubicles with a deftness only available after years of repetition. I gazed at...
My wife and I have been married 20 years and are thinking about renewing our wedding vows. We were just going to have a minister renew the vows and have a mutual black friend for a best man. I have e.d. and am small endowed, so asked Greg the best man, who is in his 40s if he would consummate the marriage for us in our marriage bed. He said he would be glad too. I told Sue my wife about it and she was hesitant but I told her she knew I was unable to do it so she agreed.After the ceremony Greg...
The Desired Life of a Newlywed Black-Owned Couple Every white wife wants to bask in glee on the day of her wedding. And why shouldn’t she? It’s unlike any other day ever in her life. It’s a day she’s never bound to forget. The sight of her as a Bride being escorted by her father into the chapel, saying her vows along with listening to that of her Groom — her future husbands — accepting his ring then sealing it with a kiss . . . after which they walk down the aisle under a flurry of excitement...
InterracialMy friend, Nick, and I had always been good friends. We met Freshman year of high school and somehow managed to stay friends for the next ten years without ever getting romantically involved, which is rare for a girl and a guy during those years. That’s not to say there were never rumors. People always suspected that there was more than we were letting on, but we honestly treated each other like family. For whatever reason, it just never happened. We had each other’s backs through our...
Group SexNewlywed Slaves By billy69boyWe had a spring wedding, and we couldn't be more in love. Our bliss was extended when we quickly found our first apartment. But it wasn't just an apartment: we were now the proud renters of half a duplex house that was attached to our dear elderly landlady's half of the house. Edna had lost her husband a few years back, and she seemed pleased to have a newly married couple as her next door neighbors. We became fast friends, and even though she had relatives living...
Anyone who has read Newlywed Suzy Parts 1 & 2 will know she is obsessed by sex and will always try to push the boundaries. Our arrangement had now been running for about six months with me sharing Suzy with Steve (her husband) fairly regularly on a weekend, sometimes as a threesome and sometimes just me and Suzy with Steve in the spare bedroom. Suzy had always been obsessed by my cock and commented on it constantly but her next suggestion completely stunned me. We were laid together in bed...