Poncho Ilia - With this ring, I thee lust

Roalt was as poor as we Gores. His family, consisting of two old women and his fat mother, no men, the black stud who sired him having taken off for parts unknown, lived in jigtown in a shack about as bad as ours. So I thought me and Roalt might have something in common.

But I had a devil of a time getting a chance to talk to Roalt. The spades sort of stuck together. We didn't have any knifings in the hall or like that, but the blacks and the whites didn't really integrate, they just went to the same school. But one day, when we were rehearsing for the Senior Play, I got a chance to get Roalt alone. I was playing a minor part, the society gals having glommed into the best parts, and Roalt, being black, was the butler or some such, so we didn't have much to do but sit around and wait for our one or two lines. We were sitting back in the auditorium behind the rest of the cast. There were only a couple of other spades in it, so they were up on the stage, leaving Roalt alone. I went and sat beside him.

"Roalt," I said, getting right to the subject, since I didn't know how long we'd have to talk, "are you bound and determined to vote for Chicky?" Chicky was Roalt's steady and the black gal who was running for homecoming.

"You know I am," he said, looking at me, his white eyes rolling and his face looking mean.

"You know if all you Hack cats vote for Chicky that Miss Sweetpants Selena Smith will win, don't you?" "That's the way it looks," he admitted.

"And Selena doesn't even go to the football games," I said. "She thinks they're cruel and barbaric." I had fought my way onto the cheer leading squad and was at every game, jumping and showing my bottom through my royal red panties and urging the boys on to commit slaughter on the opposition. I cheered next to Chicky, who was not a bad looking girl and we'd talked some. "I'd rather see Chicky get it than Selena," I went on, "but you know and I know that the whites won't vote for her." 'Tuck 'em," he said.

"On the other hand," I said, "if I could get a few black votes," I looked him in the eye and gave him my best smile, his eyes meeting mine in fine black defiance, "we'd at least have a queen who is one of us." "Not one of us," he said. "You want Selena to get it?" "Shit," he said. "Couldn't make a deal?" I asked. "Sell out Chicky?"

"Talk to her, tell her how it is. I think she'd agree she'd rather see me than Selena up there." "Not a chance. We'll go down together." "You haven't heard all my offer," I said. "I don't want no^offers," he said, turning away.

What I was going to say sent little flames into my panties and made me wet down there. "Roalt," I said, leaning close so he could smell me, "I'd do anything to get elected." I put certain emphasis on the word, anything, so that he looked at me again. "I've always admired you," I said. "Gee, when you go banging into that line-" I sighed. "You're one strong bastard," I said. "I like strong men."

He was looking at me with a funny expression. "I haven't got much to offer," I said, being humble. "But what I have…"

"Shit," he said, but I could see the old devil in his eyes.

"Maybe we could get together and talk about it?" I was leaning close. It was dark in the auditorium off the stage. I put my hand on his thigh and squeezed. "When?" he asked. "Tonight?" "You shitting me?" he asked.

"Not a bit," I said. "Look, there's a dirt road goes back of my house. Right after dark I might take a walk down that road, that is if I thought there might be someone there to keep me company. I'm scared of the dark." "There might be," he said. "Right after dark."

Juby was in jail for stealing water pumps. Sam had married a slit from the beach and was living over there working at the pier. For dinner I gave Ruf beans and chicken and then I cleaned the table and Ruf went off to smoke dope over on the beach. I waited until dark. I left the house in a skirt and sweater. It was warm for October. I left my panties and bra at home. I felt my boobs swing with my steps and began to think about Roalt and all that power bottled up in his big body and wondering if I'd be able to take that strength and vitality without flipping out completely.

He was already there in an old ambulance that I'd seen him drive around. I saw it and walked up to the passenger's side and got in. He was a dark, massive blur. I said, "Hi," lightly. He grunted. "Waiting long?"

"Naw," he said.

"We can go to the house if you like," I said. "No one's home."

He reached over and put his big, ham-like hand on my shoulder and pulled me to him and I felt that he was going to crush me. "I gave. I let my body melt into his and gave him a feel of my unbound knockers, which were, even then, something to feel, I'd guess, and he was panting and snorting like a bull. My curiosity was overwhelming. I shot down one of my lily whites and closed it over his cock and, whee, was it a stud. It felt like a club down there between his big, muscular thighs. "God, Roalt," I said, my voice going fuzzy.

I'm what is known as an easy lay. I can think myself into a state of near climax and sometimes I blast off being handled. I mean, when I feel a man's hand down there at my glory hole I feel all girl and am one huge, wet, slick, throbbing cunt of passion and just feeling all that man, his arms around me, my hand on his massive cock, made me begin to tremble.

His lips were big and demanding. They covered my whole mouth. I gave him my tongue. I like kissing. You know how it is in certain circles. People are always kissing. You kiss a casual aquaintance at a party. Sometimes you kiss him on the cheek or on the lips. A lot of people kiss other people of the same sex. It's sort of a social ritual. If you'll notice, if you're ever at a party with me, I don't kiss casually. When some dizzy broad comes at me with a kissing pout on her lips, I get the hell out of there. And I don't kiss any male I don't want to kiss. None of this smack on the cheek shit for me. If I kiss a man he knows he's been kissed even if it is just a quick thing at a party or a meeting in an office or something. I mean, I look at a man and I think, gee, I'd like to kiss him. And if I feel like that, I kiss him. I lay one on him. I give him my mouth turned inside out and he's wet from the nose to the chin and if there's a bit of time I'll drive my tongue into his mouth to taste him. I like the feeling of being sexy. It sends me. And one kiss, from a man who turns me on, makes me sexy and I'm often able to keep myself in a state of excitement just by kissing a few selected studs at some dull affair.

But about Roalt. He was the first spade I'd ever kissed. Nqw, as I've said, he was a big man, boy, then, I'd guess. But he was all spade. He had these big, wide lips and one of them made a mouthfull for me. When I gave him my tongue, my lower lip was spread all over his face and then, with a little shiver of pure satisfaction, I took his lower lip between mine and began to chew on it. It was big and meaty and all man and it made my belly start dancing with the delicious trembles. I climbed all over him, trying to make every inch of my body contact his. I rubbed my tits on him and put one leg over one of his so that I could press my twat against his hard-muscled thigh. I felt all that strength.

I turn on easy. I was wound up like an eight day clock. You'd think I'd been without it for weeks. I was shivering and trembling and when he tried to get his hand in between us I gave him space and gasped when he gave one of my knockers a squeeze, hard. He got a nipple between his fingers. There was nothing between his fingers and me but a thin summer pull-over thing and when he clamped down on it the hurt was so good I made a little crying sound. He stopped.

"Be rough," I said, my voice hard to control. "You can't hurt me." I liked 'em rough. I'd had good training. Ruf. "For a white gal, you're sure hung," he said, taking both my knockers into his hands and weighting them before he began to rub and squeeze and find the nipples, which had hardened and were pushing against the material. He pinched, hard, and I went into orbit and began to try to eat his mouth. "Jesus," he breathed, his hand going down my body, feeling its way, trying my waist for size and then finding my bulging hips and squeezing them. He wasn't the first to be awed by my wild willingness and I was pleased to think that I could make him say "Jesus" that way, for I'd always heard that spade gals were pretty wild.