The big white beach concession dominated the inlet of Rallsberry Point, the public oceanfront that the town of Mason Landing considered their last tourist jewel.
Like many medium sized cities in the 70's, it had experienced white flight to the suburbs as the downtown area black population exploded, and then with busing, tokenism, voting changes, most of the whites lived in the suburbs, but the one thing that didn't change, Mason Landing still owned that long beachfront and the large bleached white wood structure everyone called the Pavilion where soft drinks and ice cream were served.
Harold Pennywell and his wife Heather often went there, his lovely bride having been born in Mason Landing, and while they lived in a typical white suburban community, he worked in town as a city planner. And that was a story in itself, because, he thought, looking out his office window, that whole thing started by a mistaken identity
True, he considered, he did have a degree in city management, but no white guy he had ever met worked in a city like Mason Landing, unless he was on contract, and he was not. Just another city employee who could be fired any time, and now he and his gorgeous wife had a new mortgage
He didn't think it was a big deal, but somehow the voter registration data the city kept confused him and his wife with another Harold Pennywell, actually it was spelled Pennerwell and his wife. Which, of course was no big deal, except that couple had a different political party affiliation
He never even realized it during the job application and interview process until it came back on his forms. It said that he and Heather were members of the radical BlackRule Party. Naturally, he groaned, realizing the scene now as he filled out papers in personnel. The mayor was black, most of the city council was black, and the only whites employed were under long term contracts that couldn't be broken without penalty or were someone's mistress or buddy or, members of BlackRule
And at this moment, because it was expected and they needed the money, his wife was starting her first day of her summer job working the Pavilion. I mean, he thought, it was handed out as a plum position, and Heather was looking for a job, and the inflated city salaries for normally temp summer help was real good money
"So what, honey," she had said the previous night. "It's a good job, no matter how I got it. We need the extra money, and like you said, it would draw suspicions if I didn't take it."
"B-but, dear," he had said, "they're going to assume, that, you know, you and I, well..."
"So they think we vote BlackRule! We're still the same people whatever they think. Relax honey,
when I took some courses in college I let the professors believe I shared the same political beliefs. I know how to play the game, you know!"
"B-but, the beach where you work. It's you know, you know how we went there to see if the stories were true? People called it Blackpower Beach!"
She chuckled, licking her full lips, because that was such a pleasant memory. Harold didn't like displaying his thin small body in front of the hunks, especially the brazen strutting black teens, and she knew he was still reeling from the memory of a stud admiring her in her bikini, his cock and balls just hanging like ten pounds of beef in his sheer shorts.
Harold was thinking that same thing, seeing his luscious wife lick her lips in remembrance, wondering if her pussy was getting wet. Was putting Blackpower down a slip or an intentional act?
By mid day Harold was checking his watch, Heather was at the pavilion, and he figured whatever doubts he had, she was probably handling them, or she would have called. In fact he wasn't sure if he hadn't wanted her to quit on the spot, or if he wanted her to keep the job
Over at the beach pavilion Heather had met the other workers, and was in the supervisor's office. The supervisor was an attractive white woman in her late thirties and no nonsense, named of all things, Trixie, which she didn't know was either a nickname of her real name, and Heather realized the reason she was singled out for her confidence was because of that damn BlackRule error, so she tried to play it smart and cool. Still, the way the woman confided shocking things to her so casually was very disconcerting at first
"So pleased you're here, dear, I wanted to talk to you separately, you know, before the other workers get here."
"Um, ah, thanks," Heather replied.
"Cuz I know you got the job through City Hall and all, and hey, no problem with that at all."
Heather blushed, nodding, "thank you. My husband told me about it, I was hoping nobody would be offended. I mean I really don't have any experience at this."
"Tsk, tsk, dear, nobody needs experience to scoop ice cream for 15$ an hour, and how do you think I got this job anyway?" Heather tried to look blank.
"I mean a white woman in a city that's 85% black, and the remaining 15% are mostly elderly pensioners in the city's old age projects. " She finally confided, "like you, I'm in the BlackRule party too, I got this job because I'm a 'friend' of a city councilor. I wouldn't tell this to anyone except another Blackowned white girl you know."
"Oh, well, thank you for telling me."
"Well," Trixie paused, "there's also an ulterior reason for my telling you."
Heather thought 'uh oh' but kept silent.
"Cuz, I feel silly to even tell you, since your husband works for the city, but this whole concession is another BlackRule front you know."
"Oh," Heather responded after a pause, "I wasn't aware of...that."
Trixie winked, "oh sure, honey. Anyway you'd have caught on as soon as you met this summer's crop of workers. This is the fourth year of this particular project, during the winter I work at the youth center and a guidance counselor at Roosevelt High, so you see, BlackBreeding is my fulltime job for the city now."
"Oh really?" Heather didn't comprehend anything now, but the interview was moving along nicely and she didn't want to sound a wrong note.
"Yes," Trixie said proudly, "so there's a real future here, not just seasonal work. Anyway, this is just to say I like your whole look, and the fact you aren't flying any flags at all."
Heather looked down at her simple smock.
"And please don't wear anything like a BlackRule pin or necklace or anything." She chuckled. "But don't worry, before the end of the summer all the girls will be getting them. I always get a hundred percent success here at the Pavilion, the conditions are just so perfect. So you just act just like you are, only you and I will know you've already gone black, okay?"
Heather nodded, dumbfounded now, with too many questions to even begin to ask one.
"But, " Trixie added, "I see the cars beginning to arrive, now you don't mind if I select your partner for the first couple weeks? Don't worry, they're all huge studs. And in any case we rotate after the first couple weeks anyway. So now, let's go into the main dining area and meet everyone else. And you know, if there's a problem or anything comes up, (chuckle) you're my unofficial second in command here, so be on your toes."
"Oh, um, thank you, Trixie."
In the dining room she saw 10 more people, and she was surprised they were five very attractive white girls, and 6 brawny muscular black men, mostly teenagers. They all were smiling, and the black bucks were elbowing each other, chuckling, and leering at the somewhat nervous women. As she counted them, Heather realized the extra black male was no doubt her partner.
"Hello everyone, Welcome to the Pavilion for the summer. We're going to have a lot of fun, but also do a lot of work. I'm your supervisor, just call me Trixie."
One by one, everyone gave their names, and what they did. Heather was surprised by two of the women, who were married, and one girl who was just a kid, but all the women were just gorgeous. And the men, mostly super jock high school kids from inner city schools. She realized that all the women came from the suburbs then. Was Trixie talking about BlackBreeding? she wondered, maybe she should have looked up some more info about that radical BlackRule political party. But, it was too late now.
"Now, we do some efforts as a group, and others as teams. We found that we need some strength to change big tubs of ice cream, and other things, some others have to deal primarily with the public, looking good and a pleasant smile for the customers. We expect to make a healthy profit for the city with this concession. Now we're going to assign partners, but we will be rotating, because you people have to work with everyone. But it's not all work, we get beach parties, barbecues, fun things too."
Heather was first called, and Trixie read the name of Tyrone Jackson, and she looked up as a grinning black face appraised her directly.
She had announced to everyone she was married, but she knew that leering face was blatantly looking her over.
"How do, ma'am," Tyrone said, coming over, making her look up. He wore only short shorts with already a big bulge, and a muscle cutout shirt showing black gleaming definition. "Ah'm sho glad ah drew yo."
"Um, th-thank you, please, call me Heather, since we-we'll be working together."
"Dis yo first tahm, raht? But I worked here las summer so ah knows de ropes good."
Heather looked up at him more sharply then. Did he turn a white woman over last year, knock her up? Is that what he was saying, or was she misinterpreting everything? Still, he was smiling, friendly, and, she had to admit, so studly!
"Uniforms!"
She turned around to the topic. Trixie was holding up what Heather thought was a daring string bikini. Oh no!
"These are the uniforms, no more skin showing than this. In white. Boys and girls," she added with a smile.
Heather gaped at the flimsy suit. No more skin? The only way to display more skin was if it was a thong bikini.
"Now we can vote at midsummer if we want to switch to thongs for you girls. The customers see us from the waist up anyway, but when you go out on the beach, well, we have to be somewhat judgmental you know, working for the city." Heather was still absorbing all this when a blonde woman came, over, one who she remembered said she was married.
"Hi, I'm Jane," she smiled. "Your first time here?"
"Yes, a little overwhelmed I'm afraid."
"Oh, I'm glad you said that. I mean my partner Mustapha seems nice, but have you seen the narrow corridor we have to work with? I don't think I can tell my husband about this," she added with a giggle.
Heather blushed, seeing Tyrone joking with a buddy. "Um, I haven't seen the workspace yet."
"Oh, well it's not too bad. Just a little narrow." She walked over to the pavilion with her and saw the counter in front was mostly little windows where patrons would make their orders, and in back, a long counter where the pavilion workers prepared their stuff, and it was narrow, just wide enough for two people to move by turning sideways. Each area was about ten feet long, and divided by a wood wall, and a door in back leading to a common employees area where you got more supplies. It had a fan, and Trixie had posted rules, saying you could bring a radio, put a sign out front when taking a break, etc. Looking at it, she realized she would be alone with her partner in here, and when they crossed each other, they would have to turn sideways. It would be working pretty close.
"See this," Jane pointed, to shelves at the lower and upper. "I don't know who laid this out, because I worked in a beach pavilion in high school once, up at Grosse Point, and it looked a lot like this, but the way this is laid out, it looks like, well, I shouldn't say this, but it's like someone wants us to rub against each other all day long."
"Um, you mean, the male-female, um, thing?"
"Well, not that, cuz there's some heavy work too at times, but I don't think I could wear a thong bikini in here with Mustapha in back of me, " she laughed a little nervously. Heather laughed also, but then bit her lip in reflection.
Half an hour later she entered her workspace #5 from the back, a little self conscious in her bikini, but she smiled when a passerby whistled. She had big firm youthful breasts, swaying as she walked, and her firm broad bottom showed some definition and cheek, and she wondered where Tyrone was as she opened the door, and he was rubbing down the lower counter, his bare broad muscular back to her. He only wore a small white bathing suit also. He turned with a grin to her, and she gasped. His bathing suit was STUFFED! Below his washboard abdominal's, way below his belly button, practically at the beginning of his thick black cock, she saw what looked like a Genoa sausage and a couple of grapefruit in the sheer white cotton, and the cock was so big it curled around inside the fabric.
Her jaw was open in disbelief, and he smiled, moving his big hand to adjust the bathing suit.
"Ah'm sorry, ma'am, ah don't wear somethin lahk dis normal, but dis be what all de guys be wearin dis summer!"
"Oh, ah, I'm sorry, um, please call me Heather, Tyrone. Um," trying to change the subject as she looked away, out at the beach, "any customers yet?"
"We don't open for nother fifteen minutes. Ah, an you be takin de orders, mostly, workin de register, an ah be fillin dem. Course, sometimes we bofe workin windows."
"Oh, um, kind of narrow. Jane pointed out that maybe we can arrange the stock better, don't cross each other as much."
Tyrone nodded, smiling, "yeah, we thought of that las summer. Din't make much difference but ah'm willin once we get goin. But here, whyn't yo step across, cuz it not hard to get by."
Feeling his nearness, the warmth of his black muscular body, making her nipples hard unconsciously, and her pussy damp, she sucked in her breath, and knowing it made her breasts stick out as he licked his thick lips as he looked down at them.
"Yeah, " he grinned, "go ahead an step by me, an ah'll show you de main rule yo gots to remember."
"What rule?"
"When yo carryin somethin, yo turn yo back to yo partner when yo cross, lahk dis," he said, walking by her, and she had to turn and still felt his muscular buttocks on her crotch. And then he invited her to walk by him, and she hesitated a little.
"See dat, yo carryin an ice cream or somethin, nevah go face to face, but if not, it's okay, try it."
She took a breath and did, and felt his breath on her face, her breasts lightly touching his massive chest, and her crotch brushing against his bulge, and it was a real bulge! He smiled, and she smiled up at his jet black face, as she paused, their fronts brushing each other.
"Now the other thing, we workin close lahk dis, ma'am!"
"(gulp) wh-what other thing, Tyrone, please call me Heather." She didn't look down but she could feel his organ erecting against her, uncoiling, pressing straight up, she could feel his heat against her lower belly.
"Sorry ma'am. Cain't help callin yo that," he chuckled. "Anyways, ah knows you a couple years older, an we both adults an all. Anyway, workin close, sometimes touchin each other, a brutha gwine get hard lahk ah'm gettin now. No point in pretendin otherwise okay, some gals react diffrunt, knamean?"
Heather nodded, swallowing, "oh, um, sure, we working together close like this, it's um, unavoidable."
"Dat's good, " he grinned down at her, "dat's what ah'm sayin, an ah cain't hep it, nothin personal or nothin. Ah don't want to feel self-conshus about it, cuz it nothin ah can do about it nohow."
"Oh, um, don't be self conscious at all," Heather smiled, licking her full lips, "in fact, um," she blushed, "my nipples are getting hard just standing this close." She had big nipples and they were like big grapes now, jutting out the fabric of her bikini.
"Yeah, ah sees dat, " he said, moving to the side, and for the first time, Heather saw his giant erection, white cloth covered, jutting up and out.
It was maybe a foot long, she thought, amazed, as he grinned, watching her stare at him.
And thick! So thick! What would it feel like?' she thought and immediately felt like a hussy. She had only seen and felt her husband's penis, and it couldn't even half this size. And the big bloated balls! How much cum could they have in them, primed and ready to spurt!
"Yeah, ma'am, yo nevah seen a black man's set huh? No problem, same thin happen last year with a suburban girl ah work with. But don't let it botha yo none, if it in yo way, just push it over, jus be gentle," he joked, chortling as Heather blushed crimson.
"Oh, um, well," she stammered.
"Jus kiddin ma'am. Anyway, now you seen mah basket, so don't be afraid of sayin or doin nothin. Ah just want to get dis up front."
"Um, well, th-thank you, Tyrone. I, um, ah, agree. No point in trying to pretend it isn't there, "and she broke into a giggle, "because that would be pretty hard to do considering."
They broke into laughter then, feeling more at ease.
Still, Heather thought, as she took her first order from a customer, she knew that amazing sack was always there now, and she would feel it brushing all over her every day, and the thought left her knees weak, her breasts tight, nipples hard, and her pussy beginning to drool juice.
**********
A couple of days later Heather was laying out her clothes to go to work and Harold came into the bedroom, seeing his nude luscious wife pick up a scanty pair of revealing short shorts. He got hard and patted her firm full pink bottom, and she rebuffed him by pushing him away.
"Please, not now, dear. I have to get ready for work!"
"Gosh, is that what you wear?"
"Yes, like it?"
"It's way too revealing, don't you think?"
"Honey, first we work behind a counter and...!"
"Who's we?"
"Oh, we sort of split into pairs," she paused. "A guy and a girl, because of the kind of work. Sometimes the full ice cream tubs need to be lifted so it's nice to have a big strong guy!"
"You work with a man, wearing that little thing?"
"Oh, Tyrone's just a high school kid, honey. All the boys are kids, and I'm almost old enough to be his mother!"
"OF course he's black!" She just smiled.
"We are pretending we're in BlackRule, honey, remember? Of course he's black! In fact you'll meet him Saturday, when he picks me up to go to a barbecue with the other workers."
"Aw, gees," he shivered, thinking of his gorgeous white wife of 37 working with a big black teen stud, wearing this little bit of fabric.
"If you like the shorts, you'll probably like the top too!" She smiled, slipping it on, revealing her firm 40 Dcup breasts and her deep cleavage, plus her thick nipples pushing it out. He had to arrange his hardon straight and she giggled.
"I guess you do like it!"
"Wow! It shows a ton of skin though!"
"Well, Trixie, my boss, said I had to sort of set an example, so I got a small size top. She thinks I've already gone black of course!!"
"W-well, why should that matter?"
"Because they expect all the white girls to go black by the end of the summer, honey. She said they always get 100 % conversion so I obviously have to play the game to keep the job!"
Watching her sweet cheeks bounce out of the bedroom, he was blushing, thinking of her job. A moment later his lovely nymphet blonde ******** Daphne came in with a smile.
"Wow, daddy, I'd like to get a job like that. You should see what mom is wearing!"
"Um, it's well, business, honey!"
"Better tell her that, (giggle)! You know she's going on a date on Saturday! And with a black stud just a couple years older than me!"
"Um, she told you?" (Gasp) "Well, um, that's part of business too, social stuff. It's not a date!"
"If she can go out with a black boy, why can't I?"
"She's not going out with a black boy, Daphne! I just told you that!"
"Whatever," she said, mocking him, as he watched her sweet butt swish out the door. Now his ******** wants to date a black guy too?
(Continued)
Blackowned Wives, Giant Black Bulls and sissified chastity belted hubbies!
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Like many medium sized cities in the 70's, it had experienced white flight to the suburbs as the downtown area black population exploded, and then with busing, tokenism, voting changes, most of the whites lived in the suburbs, but the one thing that didn't change, Mason Landing still owned that long beachfront and the large bleached white wood structure everyone called the Pavilion where soft drinks and ice cream were served.
Harold Pennywell and his wife Heather often went there, his lovely bride having been born in Mason Landing, and while they lived in a typical white suburban community, he worked in town as a city planner. And that was a story in itself, because, he thought, looking out his office window, that whole thing started by a mistaken identity
True, he considered, he did have a degree in city management, but no white guy he had ever met worked in a city like Mason Landing, unless he was on contract, and he was not. Just another city employee who could be fired any time, and now he and his gorgeous wife had a new mortgage
He didn't think it was a big deal, but somehow the voter registration data the city kept confused him and his wife with another Harold Pennywell, actually it was spelled Pennerwell and his wife. Which, of course was no big deal, except that couple had a different political party affiliation
He never even realized it during the job application and interview process until it came back on his forms. It said that he and Heather were members of the radical BlackRule Party. Naturally, he groaned, realizing the scene now as he filled out papers in personnel. The mayor was black, most of the city council was black, and the only whites employed were under long term contracts that couldn't be broken without penalty or were someone's mistress or buddy or, members of BlackRule
And at this moment, because it was expected and they needed the money, his wife was starting her first day of her summer job working the Pavilion. I mean, he thought, it was handed out as a plum position, and Heather was looking for a job, and the inflated city salaries for normally temp summer help was real good money
"So what, honey," she had said the previous night. "It's a good job, no matter how I got it. We need the extra money, and like you said, it would draw suspicions if I didn't take it."
"B-but, dear," he had said, "they're going to assume, that, you know, you and I, well..."
"So they think we vote BlackRule! We're still the same people whatever they think. Relax honey,
when I took some courses in college I let the professors believe I shared the same political beliefs. I know how to play the game, you know!"
"B-but, the beach where you work. It's you know, you know how we went there to see if the stories were true? People called it Blackpower Beach!"
She chuckled, licking her full lips, because that was such a pleasant memory. Harold didn't like displaying his thin small body in front of the hunks, especially the brazen strutting black teens, and she knew he was still reeling from the memory of a stud admiring her in her bikini, his cock and balls just hanging like ten pounds of beef in his sheer shorts.
Harold was thinking that same thing, seeing his luscious wife lick her lips in remembrance, wondering if her pussy was getting wet. Was putting Blackpower down a slip or an intentional act?
By mid day Harold was checking his watch, Heather was at the pavilion, and he figured whatever doubts he had, she was probably handling them, or she would have called. In fact he wasn't sure if he hadn't wanted her to quit on the spot, or if he wanted her to keep the job
Over at the beach pavilion Heather had met the other workers, and was in the supervisor's office. The supervisor was an attractive white woman in her late thirties and no nonsense, named of all things, Trixie, which she didn't know was either a nickname of her real name, and Heather realized the reason she was singled out for her confidence was because of that damn BlackRule error, so she tried to play it smart and cool. Still, the way the woman confided shocking things to her so casually was very disconcerting at first
"So pleased you're here, dear, I wanted to talk to you separately, you know, before the other workers get here."
"Um, ah, thanks," Heather replied.
"Cuz I know you got the job through City Hall and all, and hey, no problem with that at all."
Heather blushed, nodding, "thank you. My husband told me about it, I was hoping nobody would be offended. I mean I really don't have any experience at this."
"Tsk, tsk, dear, nobody needs experience to scoop ice cream for 15$ an hour, and how do you think I got this job anyway?" Heather tried to look blank.
"I mean a white woman in a city that's 85% black, and the remaining 15% are mostly elderly pensioners in the city's old age projects. " She finally confided, "like you, I'm in the BlackRule party too, I got this job because I'm a 'friend' of a city councilor. I wouldn't tell this to anyone except another Blackowned white girl you know."
"Oh, well, thank you for telling me."
"Well," Trixie paused, "there's also an ulterior reason for my telling you."
Heather thought 'uh oh' but kept silent.
"Cuz, I feel silly to even tell you, since your husband works for the city, but this whole concession is another BlackRule front you know."
"Oh," Heather responded after a pause, "I wasn't aware of...that."
Trixie winked, "oh sure, honey. Anyway you'd have caught on as soon as you met this summer's crop of workers. This is the fourth year of this particular project, during the winter I work at the youth center and a guidance counselor at Roosevelt High, so you see, BlackBreeding is my fulltime job for the city now."
"Oh really?" Heather didn't comprehend anything now, but the interview was moving along nicely and she didn't want to sound a wrong note.
"Yes," Trixie said proudly, "so there's a real future here, not just seasonal work. Anyway, this is just to say I like your whole look, and the fact you aren't flying any flags at all."
Heather looked down at her simple smock.
"And please don't wear anything like a BlackRule pin or necklace or anything." She chuckled. "But don't worry, before the end of the summer all the girls will be getting them. I always get a hundred percent success here at the Pavilion, the conditions are just so perfect. So you just act just like you are, only you and I will know you've already gone black, okay?"
Heather nodded, dumbfounded now, with too many questions to even begin to ask one.
"But, " Trixie added, "I see the cars beginning to arrive, now you don't mind if I select your partner for the first couple weeks? Don't worry, they're all huge studs. And in any case we rotate after the first couple weeks anyway. So now, let's go into the main dining area and meet everyone else. And you know, if there's a problem or anything comes up, (chuckle) you're my unofficial second in command here, so be on your toes."
"Oh, um, thank you, Trixie."
In the dining room she saw 10 more people, and she was surprised they were five very attractive white girls, and 6 brawny muscular black men, mostly teenagers. They all were smiling, and the black bucks were elbowing each other, chuckling, and leering at the somewhat nervous women. As she counted them, Heather realized the extra black male was no doubt her partner.
"Hello everyone, Welcome to the Pavilion for the summer. We're going to have a lot of fun, but also do a lot of work. I'm your supervisor, just call me Trixie."
One by one, everyone gave their names, and what they did. Heather was surprised by two of the women, who were married, and one girl who was just a kid, but all the women were just gorgeous. And the men, mostly super jock high school kids from inner city schools. She realized that all the women came from the suburbs then. Was Trixie talking about BlackBreeding? she wondered, maybe she should have looked up some more info about that radical BlackRule political party. But, it was too late now.
"Now, we do some efforts as a group, and others as teams. We found that we need some strength to change big tubs of ice cream, and other things, some others have to deal primarily with the public, looking good and a pleasant smile for the customers. We expect to make a healthy profit for the city with this concession. Now we're going to assign partners, but we will be rotating, because you people have to work with everyone. But it's not all work, we get beach parties, barbecues, fun things too."
Heather was first called, and Trixie read the name of Tyrone Jackson, and she looked up as a grinning black face appraised her directly.
She had announced to everyone she was married, but she knew that leering face was blatantly looking her over.
"How do, ma'am," Tyrone said, coming over, making her look up. He wore only short shorts with already a big bulge, and a muscle cutout shirt showing black gleaming definition. "Ah'm sho glad ah drew yo."
"Um, th-thank you, please, call me Heather, since we-we'll be working together."
"Dis yo first tahm, raht? But I worked here las summer so ah knows de ropes good."
Heather looked up at him more sharply then. Did he turn a white woman over last year, knock her up? Is that what he was saying, or was she misinterpreting everything? Still, he was smiling, friendly, and, she had to admit, so studly!
"Uniforms!"
She turned around to the topic. Trixie was holding up what Heather thought was a daring string bikini. Oh no!
"These are the uniforms, no more skin showing than this. In white. Boys and girls," she added with a smile.
Heather gaped at the flimsy suit. No more skin? The only way to display more skin was if it was a thong bikini.
"Now we can vote at midsummer if we want to switch to thongs for you girls. The customers see us from the waist up anyway, but when you go out on the beach, well, we have to be somewhat judgmental you know, working for the city." Heather was still absorbing all this when a blonde woman came, over, one who she remembered said she was married.
"Hi, I'm Jane," she smiled. "Your first time here?"
"Yes, a little overwhelmed I'm afraid."
"Oh, I'm glad you said that. I mean my partner Mustapha seems nice, but have you seen the narrow corridor we have to work with? I don't think I can tell my husband about this," she added with a giggle.
Heather blushed, seeing Tyrone joking with a buddy. "Um, I haven't seen the workspace yet."
"Oh, well it's not too bad. Just a little narrow." She walked over to the pavilion with her and saw the counter in front was mostly little windows where patrons would make their orders, and in back, a long counter where the pavilion workers prepared their stuff, and it was narrow, just wide enough for two people to move by turning sideways. Each area was about ten feet long, and divided by a wood wall, and a door in back leading to a common employees area where you got more supplies. It had a fan, and Trixie had posted rules, saying you could bring a radio, put a sign out front when taking a break, etc. Looking at it, she realized she would be alone with her partner in here, and when they crossed each other, they would have to turn sideways. It would be working pretty close.
"See this," Jane pointed, to shelves at the lower and upper. "I don't know who laid this out, because I worked in a beach pavilion in high school once, up at Grosse Point, and it looked a lot like this, but the way this is laid out, it looks like, well, I shouldn't say this, but it's like someone wants us to rub against each other all day long."
"Um, you mean, the male-female, um, thing?"
"Well, not that, cuz there's some heavy work too at times, but I don't think I could wear a thong bikini in here with Mustapha in back of me, " she laughed a little nervously. Heather laughed also, but then bit her lip in reflection.
Half an hour later she entered her workspace #5 from the back, a little self conscious in her bikini, but she smiled when a passerby whistled. She had big firm youthful breasts, swaying as she walked, and her firm broad bottom showed some definition and cheek, and she wondered where Tyrone was as she opened the door, and he was rubbing down the lower counter, his bare broad muscular back to her. He only wore a small white bathing suit also. He turned with a grin to her, and she gasped. His bathing suit was STUFFED! Below his washboard abdominal's, way below his belly button, practically at the beginning of his thick black cock, she saw what looked like a Genoa sausage and a couple of grapefruit in the sheer white cotton, and the cock was so big it curled around inside the fabric.
Her jaw was open in disbelief, and he smiled, moving his big hand to adjust the bathing suit.
"Ah'm sorry, ma'am, ah don't wear somethin lahk dis normal, but dis be what all de guys be wearin dis summer!"
"Oh, ah, I'm sorry, um, please call me Heather, Tyrone. Um," trying to change the subject as she looked away, out at the beach, "any customers yet?"
"We don't open for nother fifteen minutes. Ah, an you be takin de orders, mostly, workin de register, an ah be fillin dem. Course, sometimes we bofe workin windows."
"Oh, um, kind of narrow. Jane pointed out that maybe we can arrange the stock better, don't cross each other as much."
Tyrone nodded, smiling, "yeah, we thought of that las summer. Din't make much difference but ah'm willin once we get goin. But here, whyn't yo step across, cuz it not hard to get by."
Feeling his nearness, the warmth of his black muscular body, making her nipples hard unconsciously, and her pussy damp, she sucked in her breath, and knowing it made her breasts stick out as he licked his thick lips as he looked down at them.
"Yeah, " he grinned, "go ahead an step by me, an ah'll show you de main rule yo gots to remember."
"What rule?"
"When yo carryin somethin, yo turn yo back to yo partner when yo cross, lahk dis," he said, walking by her, and she had to turn and still felt his muscular buttocks on her crotch. And then he invited her to walk by him, and she hesitated a little.
"See dat, yo carryin an ice cream or somethin, nevah go face to face, but if not, it's okay, try it."
She took a breath and did, and felt his breath on her face, her breasts lightly touching his massive chest, and her crotch brushing against his bulge, and it was a real bulge! He smiled, and she smiled up at his jet black face, as she paused, their fronts brushing each other.
"Now the other thing, we workin close lahk dis, ma'am!"
"(gulp) wh-what other thing, Tyrone, please call me Heather." She didn't look down but she could feel his organ erecting against her, uncoiling, pressing straight up, she could feel his heat against her lower belly.
"Sorry ma'am. Cain't help callin yo that," he chuckled. "Anyways, ah knows you a couple years older, an we both adults an all. Anyway, workin close, sometimes touchin each other, a brutha gwine get hard lahk ah'm gettin now. No point in pretendin otherwise okay, some gals react diffrunt, knamean?"
Heather nodded, swallowing, "oh, um, sure, we working together close like this, it's um, unavoidable."
"Dat's good, " he grinned down at her, "dat's what ah'm sayin, an ah cain't hep it, nothin personal or nothin. Ah don't want to feel self-conshus about it, cuz it nothin ah can do about it nohow."
"Oh, um, don't be self conscious at all," Heather smiled, licking her full lips, "in fact, um," she blushed, "my nipples are getting hard just standing this close." She had big nipples and they were like big grapes now, jutting out the fabric of her bikini.
"Yeah, ah sees dat, " he said, moving to the side, and for the first time, Heather saw his giant erection, white cloth covered, jutting up and out.
It was maybe a foot long, she thought, amazed, as he grinned, watching her stare at him.
And thick! So thick! What would it feel like?' she thought and immediately felt like a hussy. She had only seen and felt her husband's penis, and it couldn't even half this size. And the big bloated balls! How much cum could they have in them, primed and ready to spurt!
"Yeah, ma'am, yo nevah seen a black man's set huh? No problem, same thin happen last year with a suburban girl ah work with. But don't let it botha yo none, if it in yo way, just push it over, jus be gentle," he joked, chortling as Heather blushed crimson.
"Oh, um, well," she stammered.
"Jus kiddin ma'am. Anyway, now you seen mah basket, so don't be afraid of sayin or doin nothin. Ah just want to get dis up front."
"Um, well, th-thank you, Tyrone. I, um, ah, agree. No point in trying to pretend it isn't there, "and she broke into a giggle, "because that would be pretty hard to do considering."
They broke into laughter then, feeling more at ease.
Still, Heather thought, as she took her first order from a customer, she knew that amazing sack was always there now, and she would feel it brushing all over her every day, and the thought left her knees weak, her breasts tight, nipples hard, and her pussy beginning to drool juice.
**********
A couple of days later Heather was laying out her clothes to go to work and Harold came into the bedroom, seeing his nude luscious wife pick up a scanty pair of revealing short shorts. He got hard and patted her firm full pink bottom, and she rebuffed him by pushing him away.
"Please, not now, dear. I have to get ready for work!"
"Gosh, is that what you wear?"
"Yes, like it?"
"It's way too revealing, don't you think?"
"Honey, first we work behind a counter and...!"
"Who's we?"
"Oh, we sort of split into pairs," she paused. "A guy and a girl, because of the kind of work. Sometimes the full ice cream tubs need to be lifted so it's nice to have a big strong guy!"
"You work with a man, wearing that little thing?"
"Oh, Tyrone's just a high school kid, honey. All the boys are kids, and I'm almost old enough to be his mother!"
"OF course he's black!" She just smiled.
"We are pretending we're in BlackRule, honey, remember? Of course he's black! In fact you'll meet him Saturday, when he picks me up to go to a barbecue with the other workers."
"Aw, gees," he shivered, thinking of his gorgeous white wife of 37 working with a big black teen stud, wearing this little bit of fabric.
"If you like the shorts, you'll probably like the top too!" She smiled, slipping it on, revealing her firm 40 Dcup breasts and her deep cleavage, plus her thick nipples pushing it out. He had to arrange his hardon straight and she giggled.
"I guess you do like it!"
"Wow! It shows a ton of skin though!"
"Well, Trixie, my boss, said I had to sort of set an example, so I got a small size top. She thinks I've already gone black of course!!"
"W-well, why should that matter?"
"Because they expect all the white girls to go black by the end of the summer, honey. She said they always get 100 % conversion so I obviously have to play the game to keep the job!"
Watching her sweet cheeks bounce out of the bedroom, he was blushing, thinking of her job. A moment later his lovely nymphet blonde ******** Daphne came in with a smile.
"Wow, daddy, I'd like to get a job like that. You should see what mom is wearing!"
"Um, it's well, business, honey!"
"Better tell her that, (giggle)! You know she's going on a date on Saturday! And with a black stud just a couple years older than me!"
"Um, she told you?" (Gasp) "Well, um, that's part of business too, social stuff. It's not a date!"
"If she can go out with a black boy, why can't I?"
"She's not going out with a black boy, Daphne! I just told you that!"
"Whatever," she said, mocking him, as he watched her sweet butt swish out the door. Now his ******** wants to date a black guy too?
(Continued)
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