Unknown - Southern tramp

Shuddering in ecstasy, they ground to a stop, and Melanie dropped limply against the big black stud's body, laying her head on his shoulder and panting loudly, mewling in regret as she felt his thick tool begin to shrink inside of her.

The musky scent of sweat and sex filled the close space of the car like incense.

After a while, Melanie raised her head, her eyes twinkling, and she said in mocking tones, "Why, Brutus, you black devil you! Fancy taking advantage of a vulnerable white lady when she's alone!"

Brutus grinned wolfishly at her, feeling bold, and said huskily, "Any time dis white lady wants to be taken advantage of, dis black devil is ready and willing!"

"Well," said Melanie with a sigh, sliding into her seat, "I'm all messed up now!"

She glanced out the window at the lake, a shimmering body of cool, clear water. There was no one to be seen any where around, and Melanie had a sudden idea.

"Listen, Brutus," she said quickly, "I'm going to take a quick dip in the lake, to clean myself off, and then we'll head for town, O.K.?"

"You're the boss, Miss Melanie," Brutus drawled, tucking his long, lusty manhood away in his pants.

Melanie opened the door and scampered out, shedding her clothing and jumping into the cool water with a squeal of delight. She frolicked in the water for quite a while, splashing it over her body and rinsing away the sweat and love juice that had been the result of the hot sex tussle in which she had just participated.

From the car, Brutus watched with glowing, appreciative eyes. He shook his head in wonder, grinning salaciously. Shee-it, she was one helluva gorgeous, sexy little bitch! He sure was lucky to get a piece of that gorgeous ass before it belonged to someone. And he had no doubt that Melanie would some day find a man who could take care of her sensual appetite. At least, she'd keep on searching until she found him.

When Melanie scampered naked back to the car, she looked flushed and excited and happy.

"Do you have a towel or something, Brutus?" she gasped, shivering, goose bumps puckering on her creamy white flesh.

Brutus bent over and fished around in the back seat and came up with a piece of cloth which sufficed for the moment, and Melanie patted herself dry before scrambling into her clothes and plopping into the seat beside Brutus, fresh and clean as a daisy.

"Let's get going, Brutus! I have some shopping to do!" she said brightly.

As they pulled into town, the traffic got backed up, and crowds of people were to be seen on the streets.

Melanie frowned and exclaimed, "Why, what on earth is going on here?"

"It's him, ma'am," Brutus said, pointing to a poster on a lamp post.

It was a large picture of a ruggedly handsome man of middle age, with a caption that read: "Hardman stands for integrity. Vote Democratic!"

"Oh, a political speech," Melanie said, wrinkling her nose, "I don't know why the silly man even bothers. Daddy's going to win the election, everyone knows that."

Brutus cast a sidelong glance at Melanie, repressing a grin. Secretly, he was hoping that Lance Hardman would win the election. Hardman was a strong supporter of civil rights and pro-black laws, the type of Governor a backward Southern state like this one badly needed. On the other hand, Wilkerson stood for the old-fashioned values and bigotries which Hardman was seeking to conquer.

"Well, this traffic is absolutely impossible!" Melanie exclaimed petulantly, "And it's only a few blocks to Mr. Klinton's shop! Pull over to the curb, Brutus and let me out. Meet me in front of the shop in an hour."

She paused for a moment, considering what she wanted to do, and said slowly, "No, make that two hours, Brutus."

The black stud raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"That should give you plenty of time to try on lots an' lots of dresses, ma'am," he drawled with a twinkle in his eye.

Melanie made a face at him and giggled, jumping out of the car and disappearing in the crowd.

Mr. Klinton's dress shop was practically empty. Everyone had gone out to hear Lance Hardman's speech, and the disgruntled shop keepers were left without customers. So, Mr. Klinton was delighted when Melanie Wilkerson, one of his better customers, tripped in to see him.

He showed her the line of expensive silks just imported from France, and Melanie surveyed them for a long while, picking two she liked; one a soft mauve, the other a delicate blue.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and said brightly, "Well, I'll take those, Mr. Klinton. I'll be back next week to discuss patterns and all. You can just bill my father, of course. Oh, can you please save the material for me? I don't want to walk around carrying a heavy bag."

"But of course I can, Miss Wilkerson," Mr. Klinton said eagerly, "You are welcome in my shop any time. Any time at all! And I think your choices are superb! The blue especially will complement your beautiful eyes!"

"Why, thank you, Mr. Klinton! How sweet of you to say so," Melanie simpered, and flounced out of the shop.

She strolled down the street, trying to keep out of the way of the jostling crowds who were struggling toward the depot where Lance Hardman was making his speech. She found herself making her way in that direction, and climbing onto the porch of the general store, she had a good view of the stage upon which the ambitious politician was perched.

They had just set up a microphone for him, and Hardman began his speech. He had a stirring, confident voice, and he said intelligent, reassuring things which the crowd seemed to like. But Melanie knew the politics racket backward and forward. All politicians began sounding alike, whatever their party line, and she knew for a fact that they promised the moon without any intention at all of carrying through their promises.

Her eyes roved through the crowds, picking out attractive men. Her cunt was deliciously aching from the hard, rugged fuck session she'd just undergone with her father's black servant. But the sex had merely whetted her sensual appetite. She was awakening to the delights of womanhood, and meant to savor every moment of it.

She sighed, after a while, getting bored. It was a hot day, even on the shade of the porch, and all the people and the dust made her feel claustrophobic. She tilted her head back and looked restlessly around. Her eyes were suddenly riveted on the sight of a young man on the balcony of a building directly across from her.

She saw that it was a rooming house. The fellow was leaning on his arms against the balcony railing, so that all she could see of him was his face, which was resting on his arms. He was listening to Lance Hardman, but there was a cynical smile on his handsome young face.

And he was very, very handsome indeed. He had short blond hair and eyes that were a deep sapphire blue, set in a rugged, darkly tanned face. Melanie had never been so immediately attracted to a young man before.

She hesitated for only a moment, and then, setting her head with determination, made her way quickly across the street to the boarding house. The door was open, because the proprietress was standing on the porch, listening to the speech. Without a pause, Melanie marched inside and climbed the stairs to the second floor. A quick series of calculations made her determine that the room which led onto the balcony was to the left of the stairwell.

Without bothering to knock, she turned the knob and was delighted to find that the door was not locked. She sauntered in. It was a modest room with two single beds, comfortable but not opulent. A door opened out onto the balcony, and Melanie could see the young man still leaning against the railing, looking down.

From behind he looked very attractive, too. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and tight corduroy pants, and his figure looked splendid. He was about six feet tall and well-built, with strong legs, a small tight ass and a broad, powerful chest. Melanie quivered in excitement, and, taking a deep breath, she sauntered to the door, stepping onto the balcony and casually wandered over beside the young man, leaning over the railing and glancing down.