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Two days later, she called for her carriage. She handed Big Tom a note. “Tom, I’d like you to bring this letter to Mrs. Norton. handed it to her and then do whatever she asks.”

“Yes ma’am.”

This was not unusual. Mrs. Grey often sent Big Tom on errands, delivering messages, etc.

Half an hour later, he was at the Norton mansion and handed the note to her maid. “Wait here.”

Katherine McGuire Norton was not anything like Mrs. Grey and the others perceived. She’d come to the United States from Ireland where Malcolm Norton saw her working in a lakeside restaurant.

He courted her, and two years later married her. They made a perfect couple: he tall, handsome and rich. Kate, a flaming redhead with long legs, perfect breasts and a gorgeous face.

Mr. Norton, as he traveled from port to port along the lakes, found willing women working in just about every harbor. They were willing, as long as he paid. From the time he was eighteen, Malcolm paid.

These women, some twice his age, taught him how to please a woman with his cock. “Wait, wait just another few minutes, Mal. I’ll do anything just keep giving it to me for another few minutes.” He preferred women who “anything” included using their mouths.

On their wedding night, the virgin bride experienced feelings that she never thought possible. Kate knew nothing about men, but what she knew was that she wanted it again and again.

Malcolm Norton had been with whores who he’d fucked until he couldn’t.

The new Mrs. Norton wanted it just as often, and he wasn’t paying her. Best of all, he could mold her the way he liked it; the way those prostitutes did him.

Malcolm didn’t want to frighten her, but three months later, for the first time, he went down on her.

When he was nineteen, a forty-year-old whore in a small Lake Superior harbor town suggested, “Malcolm, you’ll find that even the most reluctant lady can’t resist a man who knows how to massage a woman’s most sensitive and private parts with his tongue. You’ll see.”

When he rubbed his face in his bride’s big flaming bush, he was delighted with her willingness to allow him to do so, and her fragrance and taste was far superior to that old whore’s. Better yet, Kate loved it, and begged to get fucked while his tongue was busy. “Darling, what you do to me has me in such a state. Give me your cock. I can’t wait any longer. She was a lady even in bed, but involuntarily the word cock and fuck came out when his tongue had her writhing on their marital bed.

Six months later, after his tongue did her, then did her again, he suggested that she use her mouth. His tongue work broke down her defenses and Kate McGuire Norton discovered that every night in bed she faced a dilemma. She wanted to get fucked; she wanted her husband’s tongue; she wanted to feel his manhood explode in her mouth.

Except for her bleeding time, she wanted one of those or all of those every day. Malcolm Norton did not disappoint her: his cock and his tongue were always hers, and Kate walked around with a smile on her face all the time. Some mornings, she let his manly juices linger in her mouth. That, too, brought a smile to her face.

Kate was devastated when twelve years after their wedding, Malcolm’s ship disappeared in a storm on Lake Superior.

Shortly after Malcolm’s death, she found that she was finally pregnant. Later that year, a baby girl, Mallory, was born.

Kate Norton was a wealthy widow. In today’s terms, she was a wealthy, horny widow and she was only thirty-years-old.

Over the next decade, on infrequent occasions she took a lover. Sadly, although discreet, they were unsatisfactory and rarely did she see a man more than once.

Twelve years after Malcolm’s death, she decided that she was done with men. It was only because of the gossip and rumors at the tea parties did she even think about what was missing in her life.

She knew that among these women, she was an outsider; only her wealth gave her entry into their world.

She’d been a widow for over twenty years when her maid handed her the note from Big Tom she was surprised. “Mrs. Norton, I gave a lot of thought to your request. I suspect that this young man will fulfill your desires.” -Mrs. Grey.”

Surprised that Lucinda would even acknowledge that she knew such men.

Her surprise became even more so when she went to the door. Standing there was a small, young black man; more of a boy, perhaps half her age. “You were sent by Mrs. Grey?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“What did she tell you?”

“She said I should deliver the message, wait for an answer and follow your instructions, ma’am.”

“What’s your name?”

“Tom Bell, ma’am.”

“Come inside and wait.” She called to the maid who’d answered the door. “Carla, see that Mr. Bell is comfortable and get him something to drink.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Katherine McGuire Norton retreated to her study. She knew exactly what Lucinda Grey was doing; humiliating her by sending a black boy to her home. Those rumors were that Mrs. Grey provided women like Mrs. Allsop and Mrs. Conover and the others with lovers, and this was the lover she provided for her.

Kate knew that among those women there wasn’t much difference between the Irish and the coloreds. She was certain that Mrs. Grey did not arrange rendezvous for her other friends with black boys. It was meant as a slap in the face.

She made a decision. She’d show that haughty, stuck-up Mrs. Grey and her friends.

Returning to the parlor where Tom Bell was waiting, “Mr. Bell, what time does your work day end with Mrs. Grey?”

“5 pm, ma’am.”

“Good. Why don’t you come by here at 6. Do you want me to send my carriage?”

“No ma’am. I can take a streetcar. Thank you, ma’am.”

Mrs. Norton personally showed him out.

Big Tom had an idea what Mrs. Norton had in mind. He’d seen it with those boys that Mrs. Grey cared for, although he couldn’t believe that’s why she sent him to Mrs. Norton. Still, if there was a chance that he’d get some cunny; white cunny, he’d be knocking on her door promptly at 6.

For Kate Norton, there was so much to do. First, she dismissed her maids, cook, gardener and stable hands for the day.

Then she took a long hot bath. Like most women of the time, she’d never done much grooming, although decades ago she’d trim her pubic hair for her husband. She smiled; more than once he’d choked on a stray hair.

There would be no trimming today; she had no idea if other men had an affinity for tongue work like her Malcolm. Would this black boy even know how? Would he know anything? As she luxuriated in her bath, Kate wondered what it would be like to have a black boy on top of her. It never occurred to her that she’d use her mouth.

Out of the bath, she went through closets, deciding what to wear.

Except for those rare lovers, intimacy had not crossed her mind in over twenty years.

As she’d ordered, Tom Bell knocked on her door at precisely 6 PM.

With the maids gone, Kate answered it herself.

That surprised Tom, but what surprised him even more was what Mrs. Norton was wearing.

It was a black floor length dressing gown, which contrasted nicely with her pale skin and red hair. For any woman, especially one her age in that time period, it was low cut. The freckles on her chest exposed. Better yet, it was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a camisole or any undergarments at all.

“Mr. Bell, come in. I’m so glad you came. Please sit down. I’ve sent my staff home for the day. Can I get you something to eat or drink? I have bottle of aged Scotch you might enjoy.”

“Yes ma’am. That would be very nice; thank you, ma’am.”

Kate Norton returned minutes later with two glasses of Scotch. She bent over as she handed him the liquor. Below that freckled chest, Tom was staring at the top of the purest white breasts imaginable. He’d never been with a white woman.

His mouth was salivating. “Mr. Bell, I saw you looking. I suspect you’d like to see more.” She took his glass and sat on his lap. Then she took the straps from that dressing gown and lowered them; not all the way, but enough to further pique his interest.

“Ummmmm, Mrs. Norton, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

I know exactly what I’m doing. Can I call you Tom?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And I’m Kate, and I am in dire need of a man. I suspect you’re man enough for me. You are, aren’t you?” She placed his hand on her breast and kissed him on the mouth.

Tom Bell was in a state of shock. Girls and women had come on to him since he was eighteen; colored girls and colored women. He knew why.

It was those colored women who made it clear to him that he had something special in his pants. It was they who first began to call him Big Tom. “Tom, now I heard some stories that although you’re short, you’re big. Show it to me.” At first, he was embarrassed, but then the way their eyes nearly popped out of their heads when they saw it; and then the things they did to it.

I’m talking about women older than his mother. More than one of those women refused to take it out of her mouth. More than one of those women made it disappear down her throat. More than one of those women could be heard screaming with pleasure when he filled her cunny.

More than one of those women told him, “Tom, there’s only one way my cunny can take something so big. You have to get my cunny ready with your tongue.”

The first to introduce him to the joys of licking her cunny was Mrs. Henrietta Johnson. She was in her fifties. The first time his tongue did her, he didn’t like the taste; didn’t like anything about it. That is until, “Now Tom, there’s a reward for being so good to my cunny.”

It was the first time a woman put his cock her mouth. It wasn’t the first time Mrs. Johnson had a cock in her mouth. It was her preferred way of pleasing her husband, but Mr. Johnson worked for the railroad and was often away weeks, sometimes more than a month at a time. A woman like Henrietta Johnson could go crazy going that long without it.

After Mrs. Johnson finished with him. “Tom, remember that was a reward for licking my cunny. Would you like to lick my cunny again,” she giggled.

From then on, Tom Bell insisted on licking Henrietta’s cunny. “You’re such a good boy, and a fast learner. I think you’ve earned your reward today.”

In time, rubbing his face in her bush, and sticking his tongue in her cunny were rewards enough. Not that he ever discouraged Mrs. Johnson from getting on her knees.

Of course, there’d never been a woman like Mrs. Norton. It didn’t take long before her dressing gown was completely off her shoulders, and those whiter than white breasts were in his hands. The contrast was striking. Then one was in his mouth. “Tom, Mr. Norton, my husband, use to call them my spectacular titties. Do you find my titties spectacular?”

There was no chance he was going to take it out of his mouth. He just mumbled. He thought he’d had seen spectacular titties before. Twenty-year-old Martha Jefferson’s were spectacular or so he thought, but like all the others he’d had his hands and mouth on, hers were black. Not like the lily-white ones in his mouth now.

He mumbled again. Still, he wasn’t taking that nipple; that gorgeous hard, pink nipple out of his mouth. He was afraid Mrs. Norton would come to her senses, and it would be all over. Then he’d have to knock on Mrs. Henrietta Johnson’s door; hoping Mr. Johnson was away. He knew what to expect from Mrs. Johnson; he wasn’t sure what Mrs. Norton had in mind.

It wasn’t too long before he found out.

“Tom, I think it’s very unfair that you have all the fun. You are having fun with my titties, aren’t you?”

It was awkward sitting on his lap, but she tried; tried to get to the buttons on his pants. She’d felt his hardness against her ass. She was determined and curious. “Please Tom, let me.”

First her spectacular titties, now this. They maneuvered around until she could access the buttons on his pants and he could still enjoy those titties.

Her fingers fumbled around with the buttons; fumbled around until her hand was inside his pants, and she found what she was looking for.

It had happened to Tom before; it happened to him all the time the first time a woman felt or saw what he had. Their eyes got big.

The moment Kate Norton took it in her hand; Tom looked her in the eyes. Those eyes could not have gotten any bigger. “You know I was married, Tom, but I’ve never . . .”

“Is there something you’d like to do other than hold it?” He was thinking of those ruby red lips. Would she do what Henrietta Johnson loved to do? Would she have the talent of Mrs. Johnson?

“Oh yes. My bedroom is upstairs. Come with me, please.” To Tom, she sounded like she was begging. He liked that.

She took him by the hand; with the other she held up her dressing gown, covering herself. After all she was a lady. He followed her up the stairs; was she shaking her ass? Was that a sign of things to come.

In her bedroom, “Tom, I’m taking off all my clothes. We can’t do what I have in mind with my clothes on. You can’t either.”

While he undressed, she watched.

While he undressed, she lay on top of her bed, legs spread. Tom Bell could not keep his eyes off her; keep his eyes her huge, flaming red bush. He’d never seen anything like it. Henrietta Johnson had a huge bush, but it was black. Of course it was.

Tom Bell was fascinated. He didn’t wait for her to suggest anything. He didn’t ask permission. As soon as he was naked, he was between her legs, rubbing his face in that gorgeous bush and sticking his tongue in her cunny.

“Oh, Tom oh Tom, for a boy so young, you do know what a woman like me needs.”

Like Henrietta Jonson taught him, Tom Bell’s tongue massaged her cunny hole, massaged her clitoris, although he didn’t know what it was called. Mrs. Johnson called it her pink jewel.

“Hmmmmm, hmmmmmmm, oh Tom, ooooh yes, yes, you make my happy button so happy. Keep making it happy. Oooooooh, Tom. You’re so good to me. You’re such a good boy to Mrs. Norton.”

With the reward Henrietta Johnson gave him, he couldn’t think of anything better. That is until now. There could never be a finer, more beautiful, sweeter cunny than Kate Norton’s.

His cock never got so hard as when Mrs. Johnson was fucking it with her mouth. Now, he thought for sure he was going to explode. Except for holding it in her hand, Mrs. Norton hadn’t done anything to his cock. That’s how good her cunny was.

He kept going and going. His tongue kept going and going. “Tom oh Tom, come up here and fuck me. My cunny loves your tongue; my cunny needs your cock.”

Henrietta Johnson, with all her experience, was a great fuck. Twenty-year-old Martha Jefferson didn’t know a lot about fucking, but she was willing, and at her age could move her ass all night.

But there was nothing like the way Kate McGuire Norton fucked Tom Bell.

His tongue had her cunny slick, but his huge cock stretched her out. “Oh, oh Tom it’s so big. Oh, my cunny. Give me more. Keep fucking me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck my cunny.”

Working for Mrs. Grey, he’d met many of her friends. These were classy ladies. A word like fuck never crossed their lips. Now, Mrs. Norton was screaming, “FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK MY CUNNY. OH FUCK ME.”

He did, but he wanted something else. Tom took Kate’s ankles and spread her legs wide apart. Then he watched his long black cock slide in and out through that flaming red bush and into her pinker than pink cunny hole.

Just like when his tongue was busy, his cock never felt so hard. He was certain it wasn’t just the fucking; it was watching his cock go in and out. He did. Fuck her that is, just like Henrietta Johnson and Martha Jefferson insisted: hard and fast. Mrs. Johnson demanded, “Fuck me faster. Fuck my cunny harder with that big cock.”

And Martha: “push it in deeper. Tom, give me every inch.”

Then the unexpected happened. Mrs. Norton’s ass slowed down, and she whispered in his ear. “Tom, my cunny loves the marvelous things, the amazing things your cock is doing to me, and oh my, your tongue, your tongue, but Tom,” she looked him in the eye, “my lips want to please your cock. Please, don’t deny me the pleasure of feeling your big cock in my mouth.”

At the moment, they were slowly grinding with him on top. “Are you sure?”

“Oh yes, yes, yes. Nothing ever made me feel more like a woman than pleasing my husband.” As a reminder, the words cocksucking and blowjob were not commonly used at the time. “Pleasing” was the word, if any word was used to describe fellatio. “Tom, I beg of you, let me feel like a woman.”

He liked that she begged.

Tom got off her, took a quick look at her beautiful womanhood, framed by that gorgeous red bush, and rolled on his back.

Katherine McGuire Norton didn’t hesitate.

Well, she actually did. Kneeling between Tom’s knees, she took that massive cock which had stretched her cunny in her hand and held it straight up: vertical. “Oh, look at you. Tom, you may be small, but you’re big, big, big; a big man.” She didn’t want to share that after her husband’s death, she’d had a few lovers; that wouldn’t be like a lady, but she did say, “I’ve never seen one so big, and so beautiful.” It was glistening with her womanly juices all over it.

Then her mouth was all over it. It had been a long time, but she was hungry for it. She’d been hungry for a long time, but Kate Norton hadn’t lost her skill; a skill her husband had nurtured.

As those ruby red lips slid over Tom’s cockhead and down his long black shaft, her eyes smiled up at him. She had no expectation that she’d be able to take it all. Henrietta Johnson could, but she didn’t know that.

“Oh, Mrs. Norton, this is a surprise. Everything has been a surprise, but this. . .”

“Don’t say anything, Tom. Let me enjoy your magnificent manhood.” She put it back in her mouth and this time kept it there.

“Hmmmmmm, hmmmmmmm, hmmmmmmm.” He exploded in her mouth. She swallowed most of it and wiped the rest off her lips and chin. “Tom, you have the most delicious cock. My mouth and cunny are going to want it again.” She kissed his cockhead. “And again, and again.”

“Mrs. Norton, and I’m going to want a taste of that sweet cunny again.”

“Hmmmm,” she giggled. “It’s yours any time.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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