She bravely drew in her breath, conscious of the eyes focussing on her, and then strode across the sawdust-strewn floor, past the piano by the corner,...and with her handbag and umbrella gripped to her bosom. She dressed well. She knew that. Her job as a clerk in the factory had provided her with the income to dress as a lady. And her education at the college had equipped her with the taste and manners to carry it well. But here, she was just a Negro woman. No one in Tramville would see beyond. She made little mewing sounds and began to grind her pelvis against my hand. I hadn’t said a word, but again she spoke. “I want you to open me and fill me to the brim with your beautiful penis, tearing me inside, and I want to feel the pain. I want this moment to be memorable forever.” My body weight was on her, floating on the wide pillows of her breasts, nipple to nipple, firing my passion. I parted her lips and put the tip of my penis into the moist pink opening and pushed, spreading her. More

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