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...I couldn-t believe what I just heard. Jamal wanted to rape and kill Mrs Lane.
--- Just joking man... He said.

He gave me that leer of his... I tell ya..., I don’t trust Jamal. But, I did breathe a little better.

---- Fuck, don-t talk like that man. You scared the shit out of me.

Jamal is a nigger... I believe you can tell that by his name. He takes pride in being called, - nigger - ... kind of a badge of sort I guess.


I live in what is politely referred to as an ethnically diverse neighborhood..., or, if you prefer, less politely; the inner city. The area I live in has a section even I do not walk in... It is –occupied-, that would be the exact word for it, by a black gang. I never call them niggers.

I have a couple of friends slash acquaintances in THE gang. My advantage; taking their advice, – stay the fuck away - ... message received load and clear.

Jamal is not welcome there because he is a Felon, convicted of rape. ONCE and once only, despite the numerous other rapes most of us know about. ... All but two of his rape victims that I know of are black women. ... I KNOW MRS. LANE IS IN DANGER... Not only is she beautiful but she is white. Jamal has never had a white woman.

She volunteers at a drop-in centre helping out needy people. It-s run by Christian-s, Catholic I think; they do a bang-up job of helping out people in this part of the city.

There are usually three white women on at a time...they-re here three times a week. They come and go in a cab so I do not see how Jamal is going to get Mrs Lane alone.

All the others paid or volunteers, male and female, are black. Mrs. Lane lives on the other side of the river...as do the other white women...moneyed folks I believe...more moneyed than any of us -round here anyway...



I started hanging around Mrs. Lane at the drop in centre / shelter... and trying to be inconspicuous. She noticed me but never said a thing...she was always busy helping someone with something. There are some attractive women working there but Mrs. Lane-s blonde hair and good looks stand out.
...I know she isn-t a natural blonde because her eye brows are brown...but she is gorgeous just the same. The other white women have black hair so perhaps that is why Jamal has targeted Mrs Lane.

. . . I wasn-t buying into Jamal-s; - [just joking] – response... I had no idea how he was going to get her and even less of an idea on how I was going to stop him... Jamal could kick my ass around all day long and not break into a sweat. Maybe that is why he told me...just to increase the thrill. Jamal knew I thought highly of Mrs Lane.


MYSELF:
...I am a waif...plain and simple. I was raised in Gov’t run homes all my life. I don-t know who my parents are. At the age of eleven I ran away from the foster home I was living in and ended up in this part of the city hiding in an old abandoned building.

I snuck about a nights for the longest time eating out of garbage containers or even out of the gutters when and if I found something edible in those gutters.

I was run off allot when I first came to this neighborhood. But..., after awhile people left me alone as they realized I was just a scrawny homeless kid trying to survive. I learned to live in the sewers...using runoff to wash in so I did not stink so bad... people could smell me a long way off and this did me no good when I was trying to sneak about a night.

I found a unique spot to sleep in the sewers, aka bent re-bar protruding from a renovated part of the sewer system. I found it quite by accident...it is hidden in the pitch black of the sewer system...great for a child.., not so great for a full grown.

...................
Today I live in an old run-down apartment building in part of the basement. The owner lets me stay there if I watch-over his building; that is keep less desirables out. . . . I do this by rigging traps which will cause them injuries... They think this part of the building is unsafe so they stay away.

The upper floors are for the renters. Those floors are inaccessible from the basement where I live...The part where I live was used for coal storage. It-s cool and damp but I like it better than the sewer.

I come and go via the old coal shut. No one even knew that shut was there... The owner does now after I showed it to him. He thought me quite ingenious. More the result of desperation!

.................
I learned to read and write;
The first few years I was a good student. When I ran away from the foster homes the last couple of years of that life they would track me down and institutionalize me... Govt run facilities lock you up at night... so what else was I to do. Books plus boredom equals reading equals learning.

...............
Physically I am skinny...maybe too skinny. I eat the same as I always did... With the exception of the hand-outs I get mostly during the warm summer months when I visit a small park.

I think I am twenty three years old now. The only thing I know for sure is my height, just under 5’9. . . . I do not know how much I weigh. I have never been weighed... at least since I left those Government run institutions.

AS for never have been-s; I-ve never had a job. There is little to no work in this part of the city...almost everyone buses it to work somewhere else and live here because they can afford it. I have no employable skills so I do not even look for a job... plus I-m happy here. I know this area very well and feel safe and comfortable here...no money equals no worth.

I stay away from gang territory so there are no problems that way. The only thing that has me concerned is Mrs. Lane. I cannot let Jamal hurt her.



The today I spoke of earlier is now a little more than three months in the past. I am living in Mrs. Lane-s home... Wow is it cool. Mrs. Lane and her husband Mr. Lane have a really great home...from my perspective it is a castle. They even have a swimming pool and they let me use it...but only under supervision...see, I cannot swim.

BUT; I jump ahead without explanation.
...YA see there was this fire. Someone set some garbage on fire behind an abandon building causing allot of damage and bringing the police and fire department into the neighborhood creating a shit storm with the locals including THE gang.

I suspect Jamal because during the pandemonium that ensued he tried to grab Mrs. Lane. Two or three people jumped in to help Mrs Lane including myself. Mrs. Lane was injured in the scuffle. Bruises; a sprained ankle..., and a sprained wrist... She broke a finger nail. He even punched her in the face the bastard. She suffered a bruised cheek bone from that one.

I lasted about fifteen seconds with Jamal. He really beat the hell out of me. I guess he did not take too kindly to me intervening in his rape-fest. I lasted long enough though for Mr. Grady, a nigger, to destroy Jamal. He is the head person at the help center. Who-d a thought he knew karate.

Jamal was sent to the same hospital I was...only he had a police escort. I had EMS personnel. I was hospitalized for a week plus... I nearly lost an eye; my sac ached like a bitch until the pain-killers kicked in. Add to that a concussion, a broken left arm, a sprained ankle, and internal bleeding. I fared pretty good... OH ya, multiple scrapes and bruises.

When I came to all I asked about;
---Is Mrs. Lane ok?

This concern and my inability to look after myself landed me right in the middle of Mrs Lane-s world...

Mrs Lane with her Florence Nightingale routine did not hurt my situation either. Who says there is no GOD?

...................
Mrs Lane and I convalesced together. She talked I listened. That is the way it is with women. That much I did know.
I had medical appointments to which Mrs Lane took me. She recovered quickly, me not so. Mrs Lane-s neighbors all got interested in the neighborhoods newest news. I became that lost puppy woman coddle.

AS I got better and time past that wore off. AS I got better I helped Mrs Lane with chores around the house and yard. This was all new stuff to me so I thought it cool. She laughed.

My health returned and so did my habits. I would go out late at night and prowl the neighborhood. My nocturnal habits caused neighbors to complain to Mr Lane. Nobody dared complain to Mrs Lane about me because I was her pet project.

Another sit down conversation between myself and Mrs Lane...I was getting used to these. Man, was there allot of rules. When we finished my lessen Mr Lane joined us. He wanted me to call him Brad. Ok I said, but Mrs Lane had to be Mrs Lane I said even though her Christian name is Jessica.

I had asked them if they wanted me to go back to my old neighborhood since I was causing so much trouble here.
--- NO, Brad said... we have an offer to make to you Freeman. My name is Freeman...Not my choice believe me.

Brad and Jessica asked me if I would like to live with them... I thought it was a joke of some kind and did not answer. Brad asked me a second time but I still was uncertain as to the real reason for his question so I never answered.

Jessica, Mrs Lane asked me if I was happy living with them...that one I knew and answered yes.
...The short version is I finally clued in and freaked. I was so happy I jumped up and down like a little kid. My injured leg was still not one hundred percent and it gave out on me...

I fell backward hitting my head on the counter knocking me out...concussion number two, or three..., I am not sure...EMS was called and I was taken to the hospital with the usual neighborhood scrutiny.

This is that moment when everything changed. I woke up several minutes before EMS showed. Mrs Lane was tending me I guess. When I woke I was looking up her dress, she was squatting, and I was treated to a vision of white panties holding her pussy lips. I was in love. This heavenly sight lasted maybe five seconds...long enough for me to store that vision forever.

.....................

I spent a few days in the hospital, again..., this time for observation. I personally think they were just screwing Mrs Lane-s Med. Plan...which she had kindly put me on...I vowed to repay her somehow.

I returned to Mrs Lane-s with strict instructions. Mrs Lane wanted to care for me..., the lost puppy thing I guess.

My next appointment was in a week. She seemed quite pleased with the situation, the mothering instinct in women. This was the first time in my life mothering had been applied to me. I was in heaven.


For the first time in my life I wanted a woman to fuck. But I didn-t know how to get her... I had no experience per se.
I was not going to force her so I had to go with what I knew. My ignorance of social norms and my concussion...aka forgetfulness....

I decided to bust my balls for her. Hoping hard work and dedication would get my balls up tight and personnel with her pussy. The vision of Mrs Lane-s pubic hair just visible outside the domain of her panties drove me crazy.

She must have a nice bush I told myself...it did not matter actually [AS you can tell by my choice of words I am a little indelicate. I decided to go slow, like a tide and see where I ended up.].

...................

My concussion, which in truth was quite severe, is going to be my opening I told myself. The first week plus was strictly on the up and up... I was too sick to try anything. Mrs Lane was her usual fantastic self. Her care made me question myself.

I had pretty much decided to forgo my effort to screw Mrs Lane and enjoy living in her world. I mean it was near perfect for me.

Mrs Lane and I had time to talk about many things as I convalesced. Eventually our conversation came round to my life. I was very open about it... I could see she was bothered by my earlier life...but almost sick over the life I had led from the age of eleven on...
... I had made light of it hoping to relieve her anxiety somewhat. I got up to get a glass of water... I staggered or wavered a little and she moved quickly to keep me from falling..., again.

This presented an opportunity, but not for me; Mrs Lane hugged me. She began to tell me how sorry she was that my life had been so difficult, that is how she put it. I hugged her trying to consol her. My resolve melted away. . . . She smelled so good...the perfect fragrance.

She let her head rest on my shoulder, her short blonde hair right there in front of my face... I could not help but sniff it... she never noticed. Or she did and never said anything... I turned my head slightly so my nose touched her hair...it was so soft...so fine.


I felt her breasts pressing against me and moving with her breathing. I felt them reform as she pulled away from me...

She cupped my face while looking at me through her wet eyes...

--- It-s not so bad, I said... Look at how it turned out. I live with Florence Nightingale. [Pause] I would give my life for you..., I said.

--- You almost did, Mrs Lane said. [A long pause as she looked into my eyes.] Thank you...

She snaked her arms about my neck hugging me again, this time in thanks. I responded with my arms about her...one up around her upper torso feeling her ribs...her toned - back; with a hand near the nape of her neck. The other arm was about her lower back and waist; resting above her hip.

WE hugged and parted...or at least started to...
I am a couple of inches taller than Mrs Lane. This created a situation, a near perfect alignment of my cock and her pubic bone.

I could feel the heat from her crotch and that gave me an instant -hard on- which she felt. Mrs Lane looked down as we parted and said:
--- My dear boy, I never thought to ask you if you had a girl friend.

--- I don-t Mrs Lane, I said. I was with a girl once but that was many years ago. I have gotten used to the idea of having no girl friend Mrs Lane. Let-s face it, no girl would want me would they?

She looked at me and I could see deep feelings for my situation written in her facial expression. Once gain Mrs. Lane held me close to her. I wrapped my arms about her and held her close also.

When I lifted my arms up my house coat opened, I assume Mrs. Lane-s did also because my hard cock leaning to the left was separated from Mrs. Lane-s body by my thin boxer shorts and Mrs. Lane-s pajama-s...

I know she felt my cock because she gasped. With me holding her tightly she would continue to feel my manhood. Mrs. Lane continued to hold me close, and so I continued to hold her close...waiting for her to break the hold.

She pulled her face away from me looking into my eyes with what I could only describe as deep felt love for this waif of a man. I kissed her, and impulsive move to say the least. I expected her to pull back and kick me out. She did not.

Mrs. Lane surprised me with a kiss of her own. Never have I felt such love for anyone or anything in my life. I held her tight and kissed her again, being relatively new at this I did my best...her lips were so soft.

Mrs. Lane pressed herself against me squeezing my cock between us... A soft growl came for her;
---Would you like to...? She asked.

I nodded yes.

WE quickly closed up house and made our way to my room... Mrs. Lane dropped her clothes and I did likewise. She stared at my cock, almost a leer. I confess I did the same to her. She was fucking gorgeous, far beyond words.

WE were both eager so to bed we went. There were no preliminaries, I kissed her again and positioned myself to fuck her; I know crude.
Strangely, she did not have as much hair as I thought she would. With a quick scan of her body I took stock. Mrs Lanes skin was nearly flawless I noted with the exception of marks on her lower legs... Her breasts flattened; her pointed nipples stood proudly upon them in a beautiful light pink hue.

Entering Mrs. Lane is without a doubt the biggest thrill of my life...the indescribable feeling of slipping ones cock into a woman like her, and for the first time...there is nothing like it. MY condition precluded my having an orgasm, or if I did it would take some time. Mrs. Lane knew this so we took our time...slow and easy dose it every time. Frank Sinatra said that in a song.

Mrs. Lane took control of our sex bringing herself to near orgasm several times. She controlled how deep I went, how fast we fucked, the angle of penetration. She even brought me close a couple of times but to no avail.
---Do you mind if we try tantric, she asked.

---No, I answered. Not knowing what the hell she was talking about.

I do not know how long we went for but I was starting to sweat allot and became nauseous. Mrs. Lane had me flip onto my back where she took over riding me. This was my first time for that position. It was fantastic looking at her as she fucked me.... I just stared at her pussy as my cock went in and out of her. Mrs. Lane-s sweat pooled on me about my pubic hair and groin...

She rode me and I watched. Soon she reached for my arms to hold onto. Mrs Lane leaned back some using my arms to support herself, with my help... I thought this really cool.

I could feel my cock touching her inside. I watched Mrs Lane cum- ...her nipples pointing straight ahead; her skin a blotchy light red color.
Mrs. Lane-s head tipped back and her breathing almost stopped... with short choppy gasps... I watched her body shiver and buck a little as she finished.

I never cam- that first time we were together...

Mrs. Lane and I have had a tightly managed relationship since that day.
3 comments

anonymous readerReport

2012-12-09 03:48:23
It got my pussy moist.

anonymous readerReport

2012-12-09 03:07:11
good story, a little sad but well written. A truly excellent story. Great build up.

anonymous readerReport

2012-12-09 03:06:52
good story, a little sad but well written. A truly excellent story. Great build up.

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