Caught Lookin'

CAUGHT LOOKIN' (by The No-Backbone Cabr?n) As always, I was running late. I was meeting my girlfriend Debbie at the bar for the game. Tip-off was at 7:00, and it was already quarter after. This bar was a hang out for alums from our college, so we watched a lot of our school's games there with our friends. A short way into the bar, I ran into Debbie who was on her way to the restroom. She looked beautiful that evening, as always, and I was happy to see her. With her long, brown hair, brown eyes, and perfect teeth, she was one of the prettiest girls I knew in college. Although I had met her at several of the Jewish community functions at our college, including parties with her sorority and my frat, I had never had the guts to ask her out until I ran into her at a party in Chicago where we both moved after graduation: I to take a job, and Debbie to attend law school. I lacked the guts mostly because she was considered one of the best catches -- a princess really -- especially on account of her classy upbringing. Her body didn't hurt that untouchable image either: she had very large breasts and a round, shapely butt, which, I would tease her, had become a little rounder and more shapely in the last year. She told me she had two seats at the bar for us. I headed back, and, finding Debbie's coat on a stool and her glass of wine, I sat down on the stool next to it. I ordered a beer and located a nearby TV. Our alma mater had taken an early lead. As I watched, I heard 2 black guys next to me talking. The one sitting on the stool next to Debbie's was bald, and the other one stood behind him. The bald guy said, "So, see anything better?" "Not for what you're looking for," the other replied. I kept watching the game. A little while later, the standing guy said, "Here she comes." The bald guy stood up, faced in my direction, and tried to flag the bartender. As he did so, I noticed that he was a very muscular guy and really tall, about 6' 7". A few seconds later, Debbie returned. With the bald guy standing in the space next to her seat, she could not sit down. When she said, "Excuse me," he stepped back without taking his eyes off the TV. Soon, the bartender came, and he bought two manhattans. As he turned around to hand one to his buddy, I noticed Debbie take a quick peek at his butt. I can't say this surprised me because I had learned in the year we had been dating that Debbie seemed to like looking at big, buff guys, especially jock types, even though none of her boyfriends fell into that category, including me. She told me once in a rare sexual confession that the only thing she liked about TV football was watching the guys' buns in their tight pants. The bald guy sat down. A moment later, our team hit a three-pointer, and I yelled "Yes" and turned toward Debbie and gave her a high five. The standing guy nodded in my direction and yelled, "State fans?" "Fans and alums," I responded. "Us too," he said, pointing to the bald guy. We talked about when we graduated, and we found out that the guys were there a few years before us. "You guys play ball there?" I asked. "Just intramurals for me, but Otis here played for the school for 2 years until the knee injury ended his hoop dreams." "That's when I took up boxing to stay fit," Otis added. "Boxing?!" asked Debbie, "Don't you get hurt doing that?" "Only when I lose," he answered, "and that doesn't happen much." When Debbie asked Otis more about boxing, I quickly turned my attention back to the game, not wanting to get involved in one of her conversations about what new fitness regimen she should try. I also did want to try to yell over the noise in the bar. Their conversation continued, and Debbie had to lean forward toward him just to hear what he was saying and then she slid her stool over a bit toward him. I was a little annoyed by this but I figured she was just flirting with this muscle head boxer. A few minutes later, I noticed Otis stand up again and hail the bartender. Just as I happened to glance over that way, he lifted one leg up and put his foot on the rail of his barstool. It was then I noticed his shorts: they were white spandex and were, to say the least, totally form fitting to his body. What I also noticed -- and couldn't help but notice -- was the bulge he was sporting: it was absolutely huge, had a few bumps and mounds in it, and looked so big that I wondered if he was padding himself somehow. The white brief he was wearing was visible through the white spandex material and stood out markedly in contrast to the dark black skin of his muscular thighs. I thought that his bulge looked totally obscene, and I couldn't believe he would walk around like that. As he stood facing in my direction, his pud was only a short distance directly in front of Debbie's face. He turned to look over his shoulder at his buddy, said something to him, and the buddy handed Otis a $20 the position Otis was in, Debbie apparently could not help but notice his bulge either, and I think I saw her steal a quick glance at it. Otis bought a round for us all. Passing out the drinks, he put the wine glass in front of Debbie and then he leaned across her to hand me my beer. I observed her take another quick peek. I was angry at his lewdness but could think of no way to say anything under the circumstances, especially as I did not want to admit noticing. Otis then gestured to my watch, and I told him it was 7:45. Soon, it was half-time, and, with Debbie still talking to Otis, I decided it was time for me to join their conversation. So, I picked up my stool and moved it around next to Debbie; the other guy, whose name I then learned was J.T., pulled up a stool and sat with us. Debbie and Otis spun around to face us. Despite Otis' menacing look with his bald head and cut build, I did find him to be a cool and funny guy as we talked. We talked about the team and the game. When I began to give my analysis of the first half, Otis leaned back against the bar, and, with his legs crossed at the ankles, rested his feet on the floor. In this position, his bulge was even more prominent, protruding straight up from his body with nothing obstructing the view. As I spoke, Otis just sat there lewdly displaying himself for the whole world to view. I saw Debbie take in a few views herself at opportune times, especially when J.T. would say something and we'd all look at him. Then, Otis sat straight up on his stool, lifting his feet onto the stool's rail. In that position, being so tall, his knees were higher than his seat cushion. As we continued talking, I thought that he spread his legs a little, but, of course, I could not look to confirm it. Then, J.T. said, "Hey, the game should be starting again soon." And Otis asked, "What time is it?" as he reached back around toward the bar to grab his beer. J.T. looked at me as I looked down at my watch. As soon as I said, "Eight fifteen," I heard Otis say, "Caught ya." "What?" I said, looking up. Otis and J.T. were looking at Debbie. She looked at Otis and said, "What?" "Caught ya lookin', Debbie," Otis said. I wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but then Debbie exclaimed, "Ladies don't do that!" Otis replied, "Well you just did." Debbie responded, "I did not. Ladies don't." Otis grinned and gestured toward J.T., saying, "My man?" J.T. said, "Yeah, she was checking out your package, and she did it a couple times earlier." Debbie blushed but still tried to deny it, saying, "No. My eyes may have, by chance, glanced momentarily, ah -- in that direction, but I was not ?checking out your package.'" Otis shook his head a little and then gestured in my direction for further support. While I really did not want to continue on this topic, I was very annoyed with Debbie's conduct and wanted to let her know that. So, with a somewhat sharp tone, I said, "Deb, I myself have caught you 5 times. You've been staring at it all night!" She looked at all 3 of us, still trying to maintain her denial. Then, she burst into a laugh and, covering her mouth with her hand, confessed, "I thought I was being discrete. But a man like you shouldn't wear shorts like that." "That's right," said Otis sarcastically, "blame it on the clothes." Debbie said, "You guys do that to us girls: you say the clothes we wear invite you to ogle us." Otis said, "It's natural, everybody's looking at everybody. All women, whether they call themselves ladies or not, are crotch watchers, and we men all know it's true." I did not know that to be true, but Debbie giggled and said, "Yeah, but women aren't supposed to get caught. I can't believe I got busted." Debbie took a drink of her wine. "Speaking of being busted," said Otis, "I couldn't help noticing that you're very well busted." She gave him a look of slight surprise. He pointed to her chest and said, "Of course, you probably want men to notice. That's why you're wearing that tight top, am I right?" Deb was wearing a turtle neck, thin-knit sweater, which had several horizontal stripes running across her full bust; it fit her snugly. She pursed her lips in a kind of embarrassed grin. Otis said, "Here, let me have a good look then," and he spun her stool around so that she faced the bar. "Yeah, nice big ones," he said, looking at the profile of her bust. Debbie quickly pulled her arms up to her chest, covering herself. "And that booty," he continued, spinning her around further so that her back faced him, "that's amazing!" Debbie spun herself around and said in a cute tone, "C'mon, Otis, stop teasing me." "I don't tease," he answered, "I mean it. You think I didn't notice those tight jeans when you walked to the restroom?" Debbie was wearing what I referred to as her "big butt jeans" which have the rear pockets cut smaller and placed higher and farther apart than regular jeans. Debbie made no response, so Otis continued, "I was supposed to notice, wasn't I?" Debbie said, "These jeans weren't this tight when I bought them. I guess my tush is getting bigger." Then she looked at me and added, "Too big, some people think." "No, no," Otis said, "you got a great ass, baby, round and well plumped." Giving me a snotty look, she said, "I guess that's a matter of taste." "Sure is," said J.T. There was a moment's silence. Then, Deb looked at me and said, "Honey, let's you and I go and watch the second half at your place." "What? Why?" asked Otis. "It's just that I feel kinda nervous sitting here now," she said. "You just didn't like getting caught," said Otis. "Well, that, and all this talk about my body. It's makes me feel kinda dirty." "Relax, Debbie," Otis consoled her, "it's not dirty, it's natural and primal for men and women -- hell, all animals -- to look at each other if they're attracted. It's just that a lady such as yourself doesn't want to get caught looking." "I guess I haven't been much of a lady so far tonight," Deb said. Otis replied, "No, you're still a lady, You're a lady who knows what she likes." Deb rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah, right." "I am right," he said, "and you should be honest with yourself." "What do you mean?" she asked defensively. With his feet still on the stool rail, he faced straight at her and began to casually spread his legs wider. He said, "You should be honest about wanting to look at it." "I don't," she protested, pushing the outside of his one knee toward the other in an attempt to close them. "Yeah," replied Otis, "that's why you've taken about 10 little peeks already, and those are only the times we caught you." Then, spreading his legs wide again, he arrogantly told her, "Go ahead and take a good long look, or, as you say, ?ogle' it." She looked at me with a nervous expression, then turned away quickly. She looked at J.T., who simply smiled at her and said, "May as well. You're not foolin' anybody here." Then, she looked Otis in the eyes intently, clearly trying not to look down at his crotch. "It's completely natural. No need to hide it," he , as he rested his hands on his knees. Then, he slid forward on his stool a little and said, "I'm not trying to hide the fact that right now I'm looking at your big tits stretching that top. So, go ahead, give yourself a good look at it." "Fine," she said in an exasperated tone. She cast her eyes down onto his bulge and purposely bugged her eyes out to make a funny face. "That a girl," Otis said, "See, nothing to be ashamed of." "It's fake!" she said to Otis, looking him in the eye. She then turned toward me, and, gesturing toward Otis, said, "Just look at it, honey, it looks like he's smuggling an old, lumpy Chicago softball in there!" Her description was not inaccurate. Otis and J.T. laughed, and Deb looked at his bulge and said, "You gotta be stuffing." Otis smiled and said, "You're not the first and probably not the last to say that, but I always ready to prove myself when the right time comes." Standing up, he added, "But right now, I'm gonna drain it." J.T. walked with him to the restroom, and Deb turned to watch Otis' muscular buns as he walked away. Following her eyes, I observed that his black skin was visible so that his underwear was either a jock strap or some sort of thong. I was very angry with Debbie and said, "Screw that asshole! We should get outta here right now." Deb said, "I wanna watch the rest of the game." I said, "Bullshit! You wanna watch his crotch. That's what you want, but I think you should stop acting like a slut." Debbie replied, "Otis doesn't seem to mind me looking. In fact, I think he likes it." "I know he does," I said, "because he's a big show off." "Very big," Deb responded, "and it's natural to show off, as Otis rightly says. You don't seem to complain when I wear tight tops like this one." "That's not obscene though," I retorted, "it's not like drawing attention to your crotch." "Well," she said, "I guess that's worse in one sense, but it's the same principle. Trying to persuade her to leave, I said, "This guy is crude, talking about your body like that. He practically said he wanted to screw you!" "I heard him," she said, "Some folks are just more open about physical attraction and those things. He's direct, but he's not crude." I said, "Well, his dick is crude then. He wears those shorts purposely to highlight his pud." Debbie answered, "It's not crude, it's just big. So what if he likes to show it off." I couldn't believe my Deb was saying these things, so I told her what I thought: "I think showing it off like that is crude and lewd." "That's your problem," she said, "Don't look then." "I'd rather you didn't either," I informed her. Otis and J.T. came back and took their seats. Right away, Debbie looked at Otis' bulge and said, "I see you got it all back in there and repackaged okay." "Deb, hon," I protested, "enough already." Otis said, "I wouldn't call it ?repackaging.' I just stuck my cock back in my shorts." Looking more intently at his bulge, Debbie said, "The shape looks a little different." "Did you want to request some particular shape," he asked, "like if I wore it down my leg?" "I don't care," she said, "It's your pud." "?Pud!?'" he exclaimed, "I haven't heard that term since 4th grade. Where did you get that stupid term?" Instead of sparing me the embarrassment, Debbie answered honestly, "My boyfriend just used it a minute ago." "Oh," was all Otis said in reply. As the second half was about to begin, Otis and Debbie turned around and faced the bar, and J.T. stood up again to see the TV. I stayed where I was, even though Otis, with his height, blocked my sight line. Just then, two white guys came over and asked if the stool was taken. J.T. said, "Go ahead," and the guys began to move it into my former space along the bar next to Debbie. Otis said to them, "But that space may be taken," gesturing to me, and asked, "Can you see?" I responded in a smart tone, "I can see everything I need to just fine from right here." "Suit yourself," he said. Debbie bought a round. She asked Otis if manhattans tasted good, and he offered her a taste, which she took. "Umm, that's good," she said. Otis said, "I'll get you one then," flagging the bartender. She said, "I have my wine here." "Have ?em both," he replied. "Thanks," she said. I was hoping they would just watch the game and stop flirting, and for a while I got my wish. A short time later, the guys who had taken my place along the bar were joined by 3 others. When they all tried to cram in together to see the TV, one guy accidently bumped Debbie's arm fairly hard, knocking her sideways. Defending Deb, I said, "Hey, watch it!" The guy looked at me but said nothing. Then, Otis leaned back on his stool, tapped the guy on the shoulder, and said, "I think you owe the lady an apology." Again, the guy turned to look at the speaker. After doing so, he said to Debbie, "Sorry about that. We just got crowded in here. I apologize." Debbie said, "It's okay." Then, she stood up said, "Here, e slide over a little," as she moved her stool a over toward Otis. We all continued watching the game for a while. Then, about 7 minutes into the half, during a time out, J.T. asked Deb and me how we met. Debbie turned toward us and explained that we knew each other in the Jewish community at State but didn't start dating until we both ended up here last year. Otis spun around to join the conversation, and Debbie said, "I live over by the lake, but he lives just down the street from here. That's why we usually watch the games here." "It's a good bar, and it's become a State hangout," said Otis, as he crossed his legs, resting his one ankle on top of his other knee. Glancing down, Debbie let out a roaring laugh and said, "Look at that thing!" Fearing she was continuing her fixation with Otis' package, I looked over but was relieved to see Debbie pointing at his shoe. Otis wore high-top leather basketball shoes that were huge. Debbie held the shoe in her hands and said, "On a ship, this could come in handy, because a small child could use it as a life boat. What the hell size is it?" "18 quad-E," he answered. "18!" she exclaimed, "I never heard of sizes that big. What's ?quad-E?'" "It means extra, extra, extra, extra wide," Otis answered. After a moment, he added, "The old wives' tale about shoe size is true." "Apparently so," agreed Debbie with a laugh. I hoped they would spin back around and watch the game, but, instead, they stayed in that position: Otis with his one leg crossed and Debbie facing him, with her knees together and pressed against his shin. Debbie then asked, "I thought you gave up basketball." "I wear these for cross-training," he answered. "What's your work-out regimen?" she asked. As he started to reply, our team made a hoop, and the noise of the cheers was so loud that I could not hear what he said. Either could Debbie apparently, for she said, "What?" and leaned her head toward him. I saw her take yet another glance at his pud, which I have to admit I kind of expected from her by this point. Talking into her ear, Otis repeated his reply, which I still couldn't hear. Then, as Debbie said something containing the words "weight lifting," I noticed her casually place her hands on her knees. In this position, her fingertips with their long, french nails dangled down barely an inch above his bulge. By now, I had given up on watching the game, although I was trying to pretend to do so, but I was monitoring the situation in front of me. As they continued talking in this position, I saw Debbie re-cross her fingers a few times, teasing him or herself with each motion. I noticed Debbie's nipples harden under her tight shirt, which is not difficult to notice, as her nipples are large and knobby. I began to wonder how I should react to what was happening between them, when I felt a pat on my back. I turned around and saw Howard, a fraternity brother of mine, and his girlfriend Beth, both of whom Debbie and I knew well. "Great game, huh," said my buddy. "Sure is. It's good to see you," I responded. "Likewise," he said, "You here alone?" Pointing toward Debbie, I said, "No, with Deb." Just then Debbie turned toward us and looked at Howard and Beth. There was a second of silence all around, and then Beth said hesitatingly, "Oh, hi Debbie, I -- I didn't recognize you there." Debbie is a huggy person and normally would have gotten up and hugged them but did not, which I attributed to her worrying about them seeing her nipples erect, which they saw anyway when she faced them. She just said, "Hi" and there was another nervous silence, as Howard and Beth looked at Otis. To break the silence, Debbie said, "This is Otis, and he's a State alum also." Debbie introduced them, and Otis stood up. From his conduct so far and the smug look on his face, I got the distinct impression that his standing up had little to do with old fashioned etiquette and more to do with showing off his manhood. Old fashioned etiquette was clearly not one of his strong suits, because he extended his hand to Beth without her having offered hers. But they did shake hands, and Otis' black claw smothered Beth's hand and did the same to Howard's as they shook. Sitting back down, Otis resumed his earlier lewd position with his legs crossed at the ankles and resting on the floor. He was showing off mercilessly and seemed to be enjoying it. Howard and Beth must have noticed, but they played it cool before saying an abrupt goodbye a short time later. After they left, Otis put his feet back up on the rails, turned to face Debbie and arrogantly said to us, "I hope I didn't make your friends nervous." I just glared at him, and Debbie said, "Maybe a little." Otis replied, "I guess they're not used to seeing a nice Jewish lady like you hanging all over a big-cocked black man." I was shocked with this rude comment, but Deb just matter-of-factly answered, "I guess not." "Excuse me, please," said Debbie, standing up. I figured she was uncomfortable with his last remark and wanted to escape to the restroom. Suddenly, Otis kicked his leg straight out, blocking her path. She bumped into his leg, and he said, "Where you going?" Standing between his legs, she answered with an embarrassed laugh, "Ladies' room. Is that okay with you?" "Yep," he said, taking a drink from his glass, "I just wanted to make sure I was ready to enjoy the sight of your ass walking away. Now, get it going, little lady." He pulled his leg back, she smiled at him and then walked away without looking at me. I decided to take action to put a stop to this, so I sat down in Debbie's seat, leaving mine for her. Otis said to me, "It's your buy," as he flagged the bartender and ordered. The tab and tip totaled $25, which I paid. "Thanks, man," said Otis, but I ignored him and just kept watching the game. A minute later, Debbie returned. She touched my back and said, "I'm back," to which I, without turning around, curtly answered, "Good." She said, "Can I have my seat back, honey?" Trying not to let on to my plan, I turned, pointed to my former stool, and said, "Why don't you take that one." "Because I can't see the TV from there," she replied. Not wanting to make a scene, I stood up to switch seats. Otis asked Debbie, "Did you get everything back in there okay?" "I think so," she answered, heading toward her stool. "Let me check," he said. She hesitated a moment, and he said, "It's only fair. You checked me." "All right," she said resignedly, and she put her hands on her hips and turne und, facing the guys who earlier had taken my place at the bar. A couple of them looked over at her. Otis said, "Yep, it's in there real good. You got a great ass, baby." The guys who were watching kinda laughed and gave me a strange look, knowing from the conversation with Howard and Beth that Debbie was with me yet here was this black men complimenting her ass right in front of my face. Otis slid a manhattan and a glass of wine in front of Debbie. Surprised, she asked, "Why did you get me both?" "I didn't know which you liked better," he answered, "You downed both of them last round." "Well, thank you," she said, and Otis pointed to me and said, "Thank him; he paid for ?em." "Thanks, honey," she said sweetly. Even though the game was close with about 5 minutes to play, I guess Debbie didn't really want to see the TV, because right away she turned to face Otis and asked, "Did you ever do any professional boxing?" "Right after college, I had some semi-pro fights, but I quit that because, win or lose, you take some hits." "You don't look any the worse for wear," said Debbie. She took a drink of her manhattan and asked, "So, it is true that boxers have a lot of groupies?" "Some," he replied, "but most of the groupies I've had weren't devoted to boxing -- they were eager to show their devotion to this," as he spread his legs wide and pointed down to his dick. Debbie laughed, leaning forward as she did so, and rested her hand on Otis' knee. "Size sluts," she commented. "Or ladies who like ?em large," he said, putting his hand on her knee. Debbie shamelessly stared at his bulge for a moment and asked the identical question she had asked earlier: "What the hell size is it?" It must have been the alcohol loosening up her inhibitions, because such crudeness was very uncharacteristic for her. "I don't know in inches" he answered, picking up one of my empty beer bottles from the bar, "but, at full mast, it's about this long." He rested the bottle on Deb's knee for a moment. "That's a long neck all right," said Debbie gesturing toward the bottle with her open hand. "And it's thick, about like this," Otis said, as he slapped the bottle into her palm. "Quad-E thick." remarked Debbie looking at the bottle. Then, she added, "And it looks like its about the same color too." What they were saying was revolting, and I sat dumbfounded listening to my girlfriend talking with a black man about his penis. Then, Otis looked at her and asked, "So, tell me, Debbie, is black cock meat kosher?" "I don't know," she answered with a giggle. He cupped his bulge with one hand and said, "I don't think this salami would ever be formally certified and approved for consumption by nice Jewish ladies like you." Bursting into laughter, she said, "That's okay, I don't keep kosher." She laughed so hard that she leaned forward, and, as she did so, she slapped her hand down on his upper thigh. "Debbie!" I shouted sharply, angry at both the sacrilegious talk and her thigh slap. My tone seemed to make her get hold of herself. She looked at me nervously and said, "I'm sorry." But before she could remove her hand, Otis put his hand on top of hers and said, "You won't be." There was a moment's silence, and then he rubbed her hand lightly and said, "You'll never be sorry, baby." I saw Debbie stare again at Otis' package with a faraway look in her eyes. Still rubbing her hand, Otis said slowly, "It's all for you tonight, baby, all for you." I noticed that she gave his muscular thigh a quick squeeze before she pulled her hand away. The guys behind her at the bar had been watching since my shout, and they began elbowing and joking with one another. A moment later, Otis stood up and said, "I gotta make a phone call." As he stepped out, Debbie kicked her leg out in front of him just as he had done earlier to her. He stopped and turned to face her. In that position, his huge package was right in front of Debbie's crotch which was opened up with her legs spread as they were. Otis stroked his big black hand along the outside of her thigh and looked right at her crotch. "Caught ya," she said cutely. "You sure did, baby," he replied with a lewd sneer. She moved her leg, and Otis walked away. One of the guys next to her, a tall one, said to her, "Why don't you just ask him to let you suck it?" She said nothing, and he turned back toward his buddies. Realizing that this situation could be getting out of hand, I leaned forward and said, "Deb, c'mon." "I guess that wasn't very ladylike," she said, as she turned her back on me and faced the bar. I sat back discouraged. Debbie picked up the beer bottle in front of her on the bar and began spinning it around in her hands, peeling the label. I put my hand on her back, about to plead with her again. But, before I could speak, J.T. put his hand on my shoulder and said in a voice loud enough for Debbie to hear, "Give it up, man, it looks like she's decided to go explore the dark side." Then, a guy next to her at the bar added in an equally loud voice, "She's already gone, man, well on her way. At least have the dignity to leave with your pride." I didn't see the situation as hopeless as these guys did, but I didn't have long to consider my options, for, a moment later, I saw Otis returning. Thinking fast, I thought maybe another change of seats could be helpful. So, I sat down on Otis' stool. When Otis reached us, he didn't say anything to me. Instead, he just stopped and stood behind Debbie. "Ummm umh!" he said, "You better stop stickin' that round booty of yours out in my direction." "Yeah, why?" she responded, sliding her butt out even farther and looking over her shoulder at him with a smile. He put his hands on her waist and gave it a quick squeeze. The game was now in the final minute, and we watched the rest of it in silence. Our school won, not that I really cared much at that point. But, when the buzzer sounded, I wanted an excuse to get Debbie out of there, so I turned to her and said, "Great game and great win. You ready?" "Good question," said Otis, still standing behind her, "That's what I was gonna ask her?" She spun around on her stool and faced Otis. "Ready for what?" she said coyly. He stepped forward, crowding her. She leaned back the little bit that she could, until her back pressed against the bar. Towering over her, he stood there with his big bulge only an inch from Debbie's bust. He looked down at her for a moment before he replied. He said, "Look, baby, I can't be wasting time. Now that the ball game is over, our little game should end too. So, if you want my cock, we gotta go somewhere now." She said nothing but just looked at his bulge. Then, she turned to me, placed one hand on my knee, and said, "Honey, can I have the key to your apartment?" Stunned, I said, "What?!" Looking up at Otis, she reached out her other hand, rubbed his hip, and leaned forward, pushing her boobs into his bulge. The guy at the bar next to her said to me, "Told you, man, you should have left with your pride." I said, "We need to talk about this, Deborah." "You heard him," she said, "no more talk or games. Can I have the key please?" "Why are you doing this?" I protested. She leaned back, pointed to his package, and said, "That's why. You're not gonna deny that he's hung, are you?" I replied, "No, but still --" "Like a horse," Deb added, smiling up at him again, then, stroking his arms, continued, "and the rest of him is rippled like a black stallion." The tall guy next to her said, "She's a total slut for it." After a short silence, Otis said, "Why don't I give you a minute." He walked over w steps, and J.T. followed. His understanding was unexpected but appreciated. "I think it would be a mistake," I said to Debbie. "A mistake if I didn't," she replied, "I gotta go for it." "Why?" I asked. She answered, "According to my women's magazines and also my friends, in a woman's whole life, she may only get a chance at a cock like that once if ever." She continued, "If you and I end up getting married someday, you'll be glad that I had the guts to do this." I replied, "If you do this, I probably won't be marrying you ever." "Then what do you care," she answered, "Either way, I'm not gonna pass this chance up, so can I have the key please?" Realizing there was no dissuading her, I figured I should at least be there to make sure things don't get out of hand, so I said, "If you insist on doing this, I should come along. I'd be worried if you were alone with him." "Honey," she replied sweetly, "he's not gonna rob me, he's gonna fuck me." I said, "It could get out of control." "It already is," she answered, "but you can come with, if it's okay with Otis. Debbie walked over to where Otis and J.T. were standing. She asked Otis, "Is it okay if my boyfriend comes along?" "I don't care," was his answer. Debbie said, "Good, now can I have the key?" holding her hand out toward me. I put the key in it, and she turned right around and handed it to Otis, saying, "He lives just down the street. C'mon, I'll show you." The two of them turned and walked toward the door. I waited a moment, because I did not want to walk out with them. They had not gone 3 steps when Otis put his hand on Deb's butt. The guys at the bar, who were still watching everything, cheered loudly and pointed at Otis and Debbie. J.T. laughed, high-fived the guys, and said, "Yeah, ole Otis got himself a real nice piece." Not wanting to wait around anymore, I began to walk out. Ahead of me, I saw Otis keep his hand on my girlfriend as they walked the entire way out of the bar, shamelessly fondling her ass for the world to see and she shamelessly letting him. I cast my eyes down as I walked, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone who knew Debbie and me, and I know there were several such people there. Outside the bar, I ran and caught up with them. As soon as I did, Otis asked me for the time. I told him, "8:50." He said, "I gotta make this a quick one." We entered my building, and Debbie lead him to my apartment. Otis keyed open the door and walked in with an air like he owned the place. Looking around, he commented, "This place looks like a queer lives here." Debbie replied, "He's neat, but he's not gay." "Maybe not," Otis responded, "but the decor sure looks tootie-fruity." Then, Otis took off his shirt and said to Debbie, "Come and get it, baby." "Let me go the bathroom first," she responded. "Make it fast, no primping," he told Debbie, "And come out in just your underwear." As she headed toward the bathroom, Debbie said, "I don't we can make a manhattan, but we have beer and wine. Honey, please get him what he wants." "Beer," said Otis. I went and got one, and by the time I had returned and handed it to him, he had taken his shorts off and sat down on the sofa in just his white pouch-brief and his shoes. When I had sat back down in my leather recliner, Otis looked at the bottle of beer, which was a brown long-neck, and chuckled, saying, "This is appropriate. It's probably Deb's favorite." I made no response to that, and we sat for a minute in silence. I felt no need to make small talk or be hospitable to this big brute who was about to defile my girlfriend. However, I did feel some curiosity about the major changes I had seen in Debbie in the 2 short hours since she met him. So, I asked, "Does this kind of thing happen to you often?" "It doesn't ?happen to' me," Otis corrected me, "I make it happen for myself. I chose Debbie right when I first sat down at the bar. She had a cute, innocent face, big tits, and a great ass." Rephrasing my question, I asked, "Do you make this happen often?" "3 to 5 times a week, depending," he answered, "Plus I have some regular bitches, or, as your Debbie would say, ?groupies.'" I guess he could read on my face the disdain I held him in, because he nued, "Don't let it bother you. It's part of their nature. I've seen lots of nice, professional white women become total gutter whores for my big black cock." "Do you credit yourself with breaking up a lot of relationships and marriages?" I asked snidely. "Sometimes they stay with their guys, sometimes not, but, either way, they always want it again from me." After taking a swig of his beer, Otis added, "And some of the guys even like watching their woman get turned into a whore for a big black cock." "Not my boyfriend," said Debbie, entering the living room, "He gets jealous." Deb was wearing the red silk bra and panty set I had bought for her for Valentine's Day, which she had left at my place in the original gift box. "I thought I said no primping," said Otis. She said, "It's just a fresh coat of lipstick." "I'll bet it'll feel as good as it looks," said Otis, as he spread his legs. Standing in front of him, she looked at his bulge, smiled, and said, "Likewise." She then added, "You know, that big bulge of yours looks even bigger now that it's freed from that tight spandex." I glanced over and realized she was right. "Let's see how that booty of yours looks now that it's freed from those tight jeans," said Otis. "Even bigger, probably," Deb replied, a little embarrassed. "Turn around for me," he told her. She did, showing him her rear end and her panties, which were full cut in the back and high cut around the sides. "Oh, yeah," Otis said approvingly, "it's bigger all right." Then he ran his finger just inside the elastic band of the leg hole and added, "And I like it in this decorative wrapping." "He gave them to me," Debbie said, pointing to me, "and this bra too, as Valentine's gifts." "Deborah, please," I implored her. Otis took a butt cheek in each hand and squeezed it. Then, he looked at me and said, "Man, you're wrong if you think this booty's too big. It's perfect, and I love to grab it." "I think everyone in the bar could see that," said Debbie. "Everybody did see it," I said angrily. Suddenly, Otis pulled his hand back and gave Debbie a hard swat. "Ouch," she whimpered. He laughed and said, "Doesn't your boyfriend ever slap your round ass?" "No," she answered truthfully. "That figures," he said. He then stroked his palm over the curve of her butt and said, "A big bubble like this needs to get slapped," as he swatted her butt again. "Doesn't it?" he asked. "Yes," Debbie moaned. When Otis said nothing for a second, Debbie asked in a whiney tone, "Are you gonna take me over your knee?" "Should I?" Otis asked. "I haven't acted very ladylike tonight," she said suggestively. "No, you haven't. You've acted like a whore tonight, so step over here," he said, steering her over next to his legs. As she stood there facing me, he put his hand on her back and guided her head and back down, so that her stomach now rested on his muscular thighs. "And now you will disciplined for it," he told her. "Yes, sir," she answered obediently. "Staring at the big package of a black man you just met in a bar, was that ladylike?" he asked. "No," she answered in her demure tone, "that crotch-watching was naughty." He swatted her ass and continued, "And sticking your big tits into my cock right there in front all those people?" "I guess that was really dirty," she replied. He spanked her again and asked, "And, then, taking me back here to your own boyfriend's apartment and strutting your ass around in the lingerie he bought for you, what you call that?" She looked at me and said, "I guess I didn't show much respect for him." "I call it acting like a filthy whore!" Otis barked, slapping her ass hard, "What do you have to say for yourself?" "I'm just a horny size slut," she cried, "Spank me, I deserve it. Punish your whore, just please let me have your big cock." "How many times in the bar did you look at my crotch?" "About 12, I think," she answered. "You lied before, and you're lying now," Otis responded. Then, he asked me w many times did she?" "More like 20," I estimated. "Twenty it is," said Otis, "Count ?em off, Deborah." 5276 1.36/512345