Posted by nigel1 on May 13, 2002 at 12:24:20:
They decided to have a real southern style meal. Somebody wanted cornbread and everybody else went MMMMMMM! Then somebody said Greens! And the ball was rolling. First, the plan was, get some bacon and fry a ton of it in a huge castiron skillet. Then, without removing any of the bacon or any of the grease, dump in a mass of turnip greens, and gosh! how it all would sizzle! Then somebody had a real fine idea. He thought they should all pretend to be "negroes". Here they were flirting with disaster because actually somebody had used the "N" word, and really, they were not like that. They would all have sworn to it-- they weren't LIKE that! This was play, merely play. When Shirley laughed, the guys knew they were safe. Shirley was nothing if not sensitive to these issues. But she accepted it, in the spirit of play. And it was great when she laughed. It was so great to see her in her brief, tight shorts and her halter top. She was cute! She was, in a word, very very very fuckable, and her male friends thought of very little else but fucking her someday, someday, finding the elusive combination that would get her out of her clothing and into somebody's bed, legs spread, boobs flattened and jiggling, all wet and receptive between her legs, between her soft thighs. She had kind of a high bellybutton. Her shorts were not what you would call cut low, and yet her navel was out there, fully exposed, and a very effective eye magnet. Now they all wanted to make Shirley laugh because she was so lovely when she laughed, and very sexy when happy. When she was really feeling good you could fondle her butt and it would be just like naughty boys, all in fun, and all innocent, which it really wasn't. So they all started to do negro impressions, right there in the kitchen while she worked on their southern dinner. She liked to feed her male friends, usually in a group setting like this. Ho ho, I' m just a ol' wooly headed darky. Don't nobody tell me nuffin. HEE! HEE! Oh pleeeeese, Massuh, don' yo' hit a hair on muh ol' gray head! HEE! HEE! Somebody grabbed a handful of Shirley's butt and said, I'm just a ol' dark nigra, don't you know? I got no morals! WHEEEEE! Then somebody grabbed Shirley from behind and rubbed her bare tummy. Clearly he had a hard on and he bumped his crotch into her ass. MMMMMMM! Let's you and me fuck! Unfortunately that was going a little too far. "Fuck" was not a word Shirley liked to hear. The act was sacred. Don't defile something so sacred, and.... joyous. She was still smiling, though, but also sweating. The kitchen was getting hot. It was like everybody could smell Shirley's sweat, as something distinct and almost intoxicating. She wanted to get loose and she bumped backward with her delicious ass, and the guy who had his arms around her went WHOOOOO! WHOOOOO! Do it again! Then somebody said they ought to get some wine. Didn't they all like wine? The cry went up! RIPPLE! Somebody said he had a quart of plum wine. Oh yes! Oh yes! We are cookin' now! Bake-on fat! Bake-on-greae! You know it do me fine! Bake-on-fat! Bake-on-grease! And a cold half-gallon of wiiiiiiine! Then Shirley said, OK you crazy guys! Come and get it! Did everybody have the same vision then, of Shirley's cunt, just a flash of a vision of her bent backward over the kitchen table, face all bruised, mouth bleeding, moaning, tear-streaked, NAKED and GANG RAPED? But it was just a flash. Somebody yelled Wait a minute! Wait a minute! I forgot to say something funny! It was the queer. It was the guy Shirley seemed to like better than any of the rest, and it was the one they all thought might be a little... queer. See, when you said, let's all have a real southern style dinner, and everybody was talking about what we should eat, like the greens and everything-- heeee heeee!-- I should have said YEAH! AND COTTON! Then everybody would have laughed, you especially Shirley, and I'd have said, let's fry an old cotton shirt in bacon grease! See? See? But now it's too late. In a little while they all sat down at the kitchen table. Shirley served the food on steaming platters. Everybody was laughed out. The mood seemed kind of shot to hell. Somebody told the guy who told the cotton shirt story, you are a prime asshole, you know that? One could only hope that someday, someday soon, Shirley would get raped and murdered by someone who knew what they were doing. It sure as hell wasn't going to be one of them. Unfortunately.