Whores and black basketball players

Nick Baker held all the cards in this lawsuit. In his
early thirties, he was a rising star in the judicial
system of the Big Apple. Across the table from him,
Graham Gray sat with a worried look on his face. He
was an old acquaintance and the attorney for the
opposing side in the case. They had to travel to the
state capitol for today’s deposition, and probably
would not be able to return home until Sunday morning,
but everything was working out just great.

The settlement in this case would involve millions of
dollars. Nick’s fees and prestige from winning this
case would boost his financial situation and career
opportunities. He couldn’t help but smile very smugly
at Graham as the other attorney desperately pleaded
his weak case. Yes, for Nick Baker, life looked pretty
good.

*

Alison Baker stepped out of the shower and patted her
tall shapely twenty-five year old body dry with the
large soft bath towel. She momentarily gazed at her
reflection in the large bathroom mirrors as she
finished drying the droplets of water from her
beautiful body. Her shoulder length brown hair was
pinned up on top of her head to keep it from getting
wet during her quick shower.

Her eyes were colored like a doe’s; large brown pools
that shown brightly when she became excited. Her full
lips held out the promise of soft kisses and long
nights of passion. Her face was one of beauty. Her
skin was smooth, soft and white as alabaster. Her
large breasts were a source of both pride and
embarrassment.

When she was a teenager, her breasts were the largest
in her class at school. She found it embarrassing
that, when boys would carry on a conversation with
her, that they almost never looked her in the eye.
They had been to busy staring at her enormous boobs.
The fact that she was taller most of the boys and that
her boobs ended up being right in their faces had only
added to her embarrassment. No wonder Alison was still
shy around men.

Alison removed the pins from her hair and shook her
head a couple of times before picking up a brush and
stroking it through her golden mane to remove any
tangles. She was standing in front of the bathroom
mirror in the nude. Since she was about six-foot tall
in her bare feet, her brown pubic bush was visible in
the mirror.

Alison had always been self-conscious of her body, so
she laid the brush down and went into the bedroom to
get dressed as soon as she was sure that her hair was
laying properly. If a stranger had been able to see
into the Baker apartment, they would have appreciated
the brunette’s beautiful long legs and shapely bottom.
Her body was a sex machine that she had never allowed
to be used to its full potential. She did not know it,
but that was a situation that was about to change.

Alison opened a dresser drawer and selected her
lingerie. Plain white silk panties, matching brassiere
and a pair of black pantyhose. She slipped the silk
garments on with practiced ease. A tastefully stylish
black dress and matching low heel shoes completed her
ensemble.

Being slightly taller than her husband, she rarely
wore high heel shoes. She applied a little eye makeup,
put on a light coating of lip-gloss, hooked a gold
chain with her St. Christopher pendant around her neck
and threaded a pair of gold earrings through her
earlobes to match her wedding rings. Alison picked up
her purse, turned out the light in the bedroom and
went down the stairs to the living room.

She made a last minute visual check of everything in
the living room just to make sure that everything was
in its proper place, before she turned out that light,
went out the front door and locked it. Alison pulled
her blue convertible out onto the parkway to drive to
the airport. Since her husband was out of town, she
had invited Clare Collins to visit her from Los
Angeles.

Clare and Nick did not get along very well, so this
was a great opportunity for the two friends to get
together since Nick would not be there. The problem
was that Clare’s flight did not arrive until after
midnight. At least it was Friday night and Clare would
not have to return to California until the next
weekend. This weekend would be like old times for the
two friends.

When Alison arrived at the airport, she found out that
the flight had been delayed and she had to kill almost
an hour and a half. Though Alison rarely drank, there
was a seedy looking man that was following her around
and giving her the eye, she went into the first open
doorway, which was airport lounge. The bartender asked
her, “What is your pleasure?”

She started to tell him that she didn’t want anything
to drink, but decided that she would try a margarita.
She sipped on the delicious drink as she thought about
the friendship that she and Clare had shared, until
twenty minutes later when her glass was empty.

Alison was thinking of leaving the lounge. The
television monitor with the schedules of arrivals and
departures showed that she still had almost an hour to
kill. That, plus the fact that the weird little man
that had been following her, was still standing around
outside the bar, caused her to stay and order another
margarita when the bartender asked if she wanted a
refill.

Alison realized that she should not have had the
second margarita as she walked toward the gate where
Clare was to disembark from her plane. Alison was just
a little tipsy. Clare was one of the last to come out
the gate. She was dressed in a red mini dress that
emphasized her slim and attractive figure. She wore
dark stockings and high heel shoes, as well.

The tall thin blonde was still just as beautiful as
when she was a teenager. Clare had sampled several of
the airline’s daiquiris on the flight. She was feeling
the effect of her mixed drinks even more than Alison
did. They hugged and kissed each other on the cheek.

Twenty minutes later, they had Clare’s baggage and
were leaving the airport. Perhaps, if Alison had been
paying better attention to the roadway, instead of
trying to listen so intently to Clare’s stories, she
would have seen the piece of jagged metal lying in the
road before it was too late.

Alison’s car lurched and the engine stopped almost
immediately. The metal in the road had ripped open the
oil pain on the blue convertible. Alison barely
managed to get the car onto the side of the road
before it came rolling to a halt. She switched off the
ignition as she and Clare looked at each other.

Of all the places for the car to break down, it had to
be when the expressway passed through the worst part
of town. Alison timidly got out of the car to take a
quick look at the oil spill that marked the path that
the car had traveled since it had hit the jagged metal
bar. She got back in the car and locked the doors.

Alison looked at Clare, smiled and said, “Don’t worry,
Nick gave me a cellular phone for just such
emergencies.” She pulled her phone from her purse and
tried to turn it on. Her smile disappeared. “Of all
the times to have a dead battery!” She cried as she
shoved the phone back into her purse. Clare had left
her phone back in Los Angeles. Now, she wished that
she had brought it with her.

A bus pulled over just a hundred feet or so ahead of
them. A man in a gray uniform shirt and pants came
back to their car. He was white, in his forties, had
black hair and a friendly smile. Alison rolled down
her window a couple of inches as he came around to the
driver’s side of her car. “Good evening, Ladies. I saw
the oil in the road and noticed that you were out here
alone. It’s after two o’clock in the morning and you
are not safe in this area. May I offer the two of you
a lift?”

Alison was reluctant to leave the safety of her car
until he told her, “You realize that a convertible has
a tent for a roof. It anyone wants inside, all they
have to do is cut a hole in the top with a knife.”
Alison and Clare looked at each other for a few
seconds before they both decided to take the nice
man’s offer.

Alison got her purse and locked the doors of her car.
They would call a tow truck as soon as they reached a
telephone. The man, who introduced himself as Smithy,
carried Clare’s bags as they walked toward the bus.
Just as they were about to board the bus, Alison
noticed that it had the name of a professional
basketball team painted on the side. She didn’t think
much about what the name indicated until she had
boarded the bus and saw who the other occupants were.
The bus was full of very famous basketball athletes.
And, they were all black.

Alison felt very uncomfortable. She would have turned
around and left the bus if it weren’t for the fact
that she was worried that two women, alone on the
expressway, at this time of night, may as well have a
target painted on them. “Besides,” she assured
herself, “she and Clare could depend on Smithy for
protection.” Two of the players moved over to leave
one seat next to each empty.

Clare sat down next to one of the tall basketball
players and smiled prettily at him. Alison meekly sat
next to the other player. Smithy sat down in the
driver’s seat, closed the bus’s door, turned off the
interior lights, put the bus in gear and pulled back
out onto the nearly deserted expressway.

Alison could see that Clare had already started a
conversation with her seatmate. Alison glanced
sideways at the very tall black man that had shared
his seat with her. In the darkened interior of the
bus, details were hard to make out, but she could tell
that he was rather handsome. Alison had always been
taller than the average person. She was even taller
than her own husband was. Sitting beside the famous
basketball player made her feel small. She was already
at a disadvantage because of having the two drinks
earlier and her auto breaking down. Now, she felt a
little physical intimidation because of the tall black
man’s sheer size.

Alison almost jumped when the man beside her placed
his large black hand on her thigh. She looked directly
at him for the first time. “How dare he!” She thought
to herself as she reached down and pushed his very
large hand from her leg. She looked around to see if
there was another seat that she could move to.

Unfortunately, all the other seats appeared to be used
by the sleeping players as they stretched out on them.
Alison did not want to ask to be let off the bus. The
area that the bus was traveling through still was not
safe for two women to be stranded in at this time of
night.

Alison looked over at Clare. Perhaps she could come up
with a solution to their problem? What she saw shocked
her. It was hard to make out the details, but it
appeared that Clare and the much taller black
basketball player beside her were engaged in an
intimate whispered conversation.

Alison could not hear them, but could tell that Clare
was enjoying herself from the soft sounds of laughter
that her blonde friend made as the black man whispered
in her ear. The black hand moved on Clare’s thigh
cataching Alison’s eye. Alison’s heart almost stopped
beating for a moment when she saw the man beside Clare
lean down to kiss her blonde friend with his large
soft lips.

Alison had not been raised to be racially prejudiced,
but seeing her best friend willingly returning the
kiss of a tall black man that was a virtual stranger
to her, caused her heart to beat a little faster. The
streetlights along the expressway illuminated the
movements of the stranger’s large black hand as it
moved up and down the thin blonde’s thigh. Alison
could not believe her eyes as she saw Clare parting
her thighs to let the roving hand have access to her
feminine treasures. Hearing Clare moaning was a good
indication of where the hand had went after it had
disappeared under her skirt.

Alison pressed her thighs together in an effort to
suppress the tingling sensations that were emanating
from her stiffening clitoris. She had always been
embarrassed when her body reacted to sexual
situations. Alison had always tried to maintain
control and was not comfortable with her body’s
reactions to sensual stimuli.

When she felt the return of the large hand on her own
thigh, Alison wanted to remove it again, but sat
motionless. It felt as if she didn’t have the strength
to lift her arms or legs as her hormonal levels
reacted to the image of Clare eagerly kissing the tall
black man across the aisle and the hand that was now
massaging her own nylon covered thigh. She could not
even make herself turn away from the scene that was
taking place only a few feet from where she sat.

Clare had spread her legs even more for the long thin
questing fingers. Clare was not wearing pantyhose. She
had told Alison that most men did not find pantyhose
to be sexy. Clare was wearing black stockings and a
garter belt. Her light skin made quite a contrast to
the black nylon of her hose and the large black hand
that had moved between her legs and was massaging her
vagina through her red panties.

Alison fascinated, watched as the basketball player’s
other hand slowly unzipped the back of the pretty
blonde’s red dress. The back strap of a red brassiere
could be seen as the dress parted. Clare didn’t seem
to mind the fact that a large black man was undressing
her on a crowded bus as the dress slipped forward on
her shoulders. Clare had broken away from the kiss.

Alison hoped that she would call a halt to what the
ball player was doing to her so that they could stop
the bus and get off, but, instead, Clare laid her head
against the headrest and closed her eyes. Her seatmate
wasted little in unhooking Clare’s red brassiere.

Alison had not seen Clare’s breasts since high school
gym class. Although relatively small, at least
compared to Alison’s D cup breasts, they stood almost
straight out and had long thick nipples. Clare made a
gasping sound as the man’s thick lips encircled a
nipple and began sucking on it.

Although Alison had been motionless as she had watched
her friend being seduced by the tall black basketball
player, her seat companion had been busy. Alison had
held her legs together very tightly as he had moved
his catcher’s mitt sized hand up and down her
quivering thigh. Alison tried to ignore the hand and
the sensations that were rippling through her
beautiful body in the hopes that they would all go
away.

The hand moved up and down her leg, moving farther
north each time, until it was almost completely under
the hem of her designer black dress. Alison’s clitoris
was now tingling far too much to ignore. She shifted
in her seat, in a half-hearted effort to move away
from the exploring black hand, only to find that she
had actually opened herself up to him even more.

Across the aisle, Alison could see that the man had
shifted his big lips to Clare’s other breast. The
nipples, that had just been in his mouth, shone wetly
in the dim light and was swollen to over twice its
original size. One of the black man’s hands was almost
buried under the red dress that was draped across the
writhing blonde’s lap. Her red brassiere lay in the
aisle on the floor, forgotten.

Alison’s attention was brought back to her own body as
she felt the hand under her dress reach the top of her
leg. A finger was rubbing the crotch of her pantyhose
as the hand rested on her upper thigh. Alison tried to
clamp her thighs together to prevent such intimate
contact, but only succeeded in trapping the finger
against her sensitive mound. He immediately began to
wiggle his finger against the moistening crotch of her
panties and pantyhose.

She experienced what felt to be a maddening itch that
she knew could only be scratched by a man. And, the
only man currently available was not her husband.
Instead, it was a seven-foot tall black man with skin
so dark; she could barely make out his facial features
on the dimly lit bus.

Clare’s cry of delight caused Alison to turn her head
toward the couple across the way. The tall black
basketball player next to Clare had stood up and his
elastic waistband jogging pants was down around his
ankles. Standing out in front of him was what appeared
to be the radiator hose from her car. It was at least
ten inches long and more than two inches thick.

Clare’s eyes were shining in the dark as she took hold
of the awesome black pole with both hands and stroked
up and down a few times. “It’s magnificent!” She
whispered just before she leaned forward and took the
head into her wide-open mouth.

The man next to Alison had managed to turn his hand to
cover her mound and was now vigorously massaging her
sensitive clitoris. Alison pushed back into the
seatback as waves of miniature orgasms passed through
her body. She was unable to protest as a dark face
descended onto hers and thick lips muffled her moans.

She tried to push the molesting hand from between her
legs, but were ineffectual. The longest tongue Alison
had ever encountered snaked into her mouth and probed
every recess of her oral cavity. She hardly even
noticed as his other hand massaged her D cup breasts.
Soon, the sensations were so over powering, Alison
reluctantly surrendered to them.

At first, Alison had simply sat there, with her arms
at her sides, as the back of her dress was unzipped
and pulled down in front. When her white silk
brassiere was unhooked and removed, letting her large
sensitive breasts bobble in the cool air. A pair of
thick suctioning lips was attached to her sensitive
nipples; she began a series of climaxes. She was
barely aware of when he had pulled the hem of her
dress up and slipped his hand down the front of her
pantyhose and panties. She was very aware of when his
fingers began direct manipulation of her clitoris and
began sinking so very deep into her moist slit.

If poor Alison had not had those two margaritas to
drink, she might not have ended up in this situation.
Just having watched the road more closely, would have
prevented this from happening. She lay back against
the seat with her eyes looking down at the face of the
very tall black man that was sucking her nipples and
driving her into a state of uncontrollable sexual
heat.

A cry from across the aisle caused Alison to look.
Clare, now dressed in only her garter belt and nylon
stockings, was straddling the basketball player’s huge
cock as he sat in his seat. Almost half of the black
pole had disappeared inside of her friend’s belly.

Alison could not believe such a huge tool could
possibly fit inside of Clare’s little vagina. Large
black hands gripped the pretty blonde’s narrow waist
and pulled her all the way down on the huge ebony
shaft. Clare wiggled about like a bug stuck on a pin
as she came.

The athlete working on Alison pulled her pantyhose and
panties down and off in one smooth motion. She was
left sitting with her smooth bottom on the rough
fabric of the bus seat and her expensive designer
black dress wrapped around her waist. She wanted to
resist as her legs were pushed open, but the seven-
foot basketball player was too strong for her to stop
now. He knelt on the floor in front of her and buried
his head between her legs.

She noticed that his long thick tongue was the size of
an ex-boyfriend’s cock as it penetrated her wet slit.
Try as she might to end the sequence of events, Alison
was powerless to stop them. When the thick lips
wrapped around her clitoris, she lost any interest in
halting the sexual sensations she was now feeling as
wave after wave of climaxes passed through her.

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