Unknown - Southern tramp

Dahlia may have been poor and black, but she had a happy, carefree manner and lifestyle that Melanie secretly envied. She knew Dahlia was a slut, and there was something titillating about the idea.

Brutus, the hulking black buck who helped out with the horses, was constantly hanging around the kitchen and Melanie had seen the way Dahlia flirted with him. She wagered, in fact, that Dahlia did a lot more than just flirt with the huge black stud.

Melanie felt a tremor of excitement shudder through her again, and her loins became warm and moist. With a sigh of boredom and oppression, Melanie jumped out of the window and flounced out of the lavishly decorated room.

She wandered through the huge mansion aimlessly, feeling utterly bored. Rhett was away on the campaign trail, of course, making another of his endless appearances at a factory or something. Jarvis was out riding with his buddies. And Melanie was all alone in the huge house with the servants.

Melanie was going past the kitchen, idly wondering if perhaps she could telephone her best friend, Missy Simpson, when she heard voices which made her stop just outside the door. She heard Dahlia's rich, feminine laugh, and a deep, rustling masculine voice, which she recognized as belonging to Brutus. A crafty look came over the Southern belle's features, and she crept to the door and very gently pushed it slightly ajar, placing her eye against the crack. From that position, she got a good glimpse at the kitchen.

Dahlia was leaning coquettishly against the stove, her warm brown eyes twinkling with excitement as she tilted her pretty head up to look into the jet black, ruggedly masculine features of the man they called Brutus.

Dahlia was dressed in a floral patterned frock which complemented her dusky skin and luscious figure well. The mulatto servant knew how pretty she was, and made the most of her physical assets. Now, she was thrusting her full, pendulous breasts forward sensuously, and the large, melon-shaped lobes of flesh pressed against the thin material of her blouse. The round pouting circles of her pointy nipples were clearly outlined by the thin material, and Brutus' smoldering eyes kept darting down and ogling them greedily.

Brutus was a brawny, impressive specimen of manhood. Standing six feet two inches tall and weighing two hundred and forty pounds of solid musculature, he was a great hulking brute of a man, with broad shoulders and a powerfully built chest. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt that was open to the navel, revealing the hard jutting curves of his pectoral muscles, and the rippling-washboard definition of his belly. The tight tan breeches that hugged his legs and thighs were tenting alarmingly at the crotch, revealing the gigantic proportions of his sexual organs quite clearly.

Dahlia's doe-like brown eyes dropped bashfully from Brutus' face and fleetingly glanced at the big stud's crotch, and Melanie could see a tremor of excitement rush through the lovely mulatto slut's body.

"Aw, c'mon, Dahlia," Brutus coaxed, smiling at her lewdly, "Ain't nobody gonna stop us! Les go out to the barn for a while. Dotty's gawn to her m aw's place fer the afternoon, and the Wilkersons, all 'cept Miss Melanie, is gone away. An' Miss Melanie never has no business down at the barn!"

Dahlia giggled, wiggling her hips teasingly and said, "Now, Brutus, you is bad! You knows that Dotty tole me to look after the kitchen for her till she comes back! What if she comes back early and finds me not here? I'll get my ass beat, that's what!"

Brutus smiled wolfishly, licking his sensuous thick lips, and said huskily, "Yeah! She ain't the only one who'd like to beat dat ass, Dahlia! Only, when I does it, you gonna like it!"

Lewdly, the big brute reached down and rubbed his throbbing crotch with his big fingers. He reached out and grasped Dahlia's small brown hand and drew it against his groin, pressing it there and swiveling his hips.

Dahlia's eyes widened as she felt the stiff throbbing of his lust-thickened meatiness through the coarse material of his trousers, and she gave a little whimper of excitement.

"You sees how much I wants you, Dahlia," Brutus said hoarsely, "C'mon, les go to the barn."

Dahlia's resistance had fallen completely. She raised her swimming brown eyes, large and trembling with excitement, and slightly parted her full, moist lips.

Brutus gave a low growl and bent down, wrapping his powerful arms around her slender form and crushing her willowy young body against his huge physique, smothering her lips hungrily with his own.

Melanie shuddered in lascivious delight as she watched the two Negroes kiss passionately. Her own body was stirring with the warm juices of passion, and her cunt began to tingle and quiver in sympathetic excitement. She gaped as she watched Brutus' big mouth open wide and cover the lower part of Dahlia's face as he forced his long thick tongue deep into the mulatto wench's mouth.

Brutus' big hands slid down Dahlia's back and dug into the high, firm cheeks of her succulent ass, squeezing them lewdly as he crushed his pelvis against hers.

Struggling, Dahlia pushed away from him, panting hard, her eyes wide with mingled passion and nervousness.

"Not here, fool!" she gasped, "Miss Melanie's likely to walk in on us, and then there's no telling what might happen! Let's go on out to the barn."

Brutus grinned wolfishly and said, "I thought you'd nevah ask!"

They went together to the screen door that faced the barn, and exited separately. Brutus went first, striding rapidly across the lawn towards the barn, and Dahlia tripped nervously behind him, her big brown eyes darting back and forth to make sure no one was watching them.

If Dahlia had known that every movement she and Brutus had made, and every word they had spoken, had been seen and heard by Melanie Wilkerson, the black servant would have died in horror. But Melanie had no intention of reporting on the lusty black couple. She merely wanted to find out what it was that they did in the barn which was so exciting.

The crafty blonde belle waited until the big barn door swung shut behind Dahlia. Then, she darted across the kitchen and out the screen door, and rapidly and noiselessly approached the barn.

Having been raised on her father's estate, she knew every nook and cranny like the back of her hand. And Melanie knew how to get into the hay loft in the barn without having to go through the door.

She hurried around to the back of the barn. A window high up led into the hay loft, and a thick rope dangled to the ground from a nail several inches below the window. Knots at various intervals in the rope made foot and hand-holds.

Though she behaved very much like a lady in public, the instincts of a tomboyish girlhood still remained intact in Melanie's lively form, and she had no trouble at all clambering up the rope once she had kicked off her shoes. She peered cautiously over the edge of the window, and then slipped inside. She crawled on all fours through the hay until her face reached the square hole that looked down into the barn. She heard the restless stirring and neighing of the horses, and the sighs and moans of two other beings.

Peering over the trap door, she found to her delight that she had a perfect view of the illicit scene that was unfolding beneath her.

Brutus had taken Dahlia into one of the empty horse stalls. A ray of sunlight made its way through a crack in the barn wall and bathed the two lovers in a golden honeyed beam.

The black stud was kissing Dahlia hungrily, and he had hoisted up her skirts and was running his big coarse hands over the luscious, smooth lobes of her tush.

He pulled away suddenly, panting with lust, and tossed off his shirt impatiently, revealing his brawny, muscular torso. Then his hands flew to his belt, and in a matter of seconds, he had shed his pants and was standing before Dahlia in all his naked glory.