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very happy. If you're willing."

He was more than willing. Just about every day, he stopped at Mrs. Ferguson's.

She was waiting; naked on her bed, legs spread. Her big black bush and fat dark pussy lips beckoning him. "Mrs. Ferguson, I love eating your pussy."

Like I said, he came every time. Finally, Mrs. Ferguson insisted that he take off his pants so she could watch him cum. He was embarrassed by the size of his cock, but Mrs. Ferguson never said a word about that. However, she did say, "Marshall, my old pussy is so pleased that I excite you like that, and you shoot so much. Be a good boy for Mrs. Ferguson and get back on your knees and eat my vajayjay some more."

He did. Insatiable was an understatement.

Two months after that first time, "Marshall, I think you're ready for an evening with Bella. You'll make her squeal with joy. You have the most marvelous tongue."

"Ummm Mrs. Ferguson, I don't want to see Bella. I want to keep eating you; eating your pussy, every day. Please."

How could she refuse? Marshall had become the best pussy eater she'd ever had. Going back to her teenage years, there had never been a man or a boy who ate pussy like Marshall Albright.

For the next six months, just about every day, and most of the day on Saturdays and Sundays, Marshall serviced Mrs. Ferguson's pussy. Just about every day he had at least one orgasm. As for Mrs. Ferguson, she had too many to count. He told her too many times to count, "I love eating your pussy. Can I eat it some more, please."

There was never a happier janitor than her. Knowing what she was going to get when she got home kept a smile on her face. She hum to herself, "Vivian's vajajay is going to sing tonight."

You would never find a more discreet woman than Mrs. Ferguson. However, one Saturday afternoon at a meeting of the African-American Women's Club, her dear friend Pauline Hightower asked her, "Vivian, you always seem to be in a good mood. You clean those toilets at school and you still have a smile on your face. What's wrong with you, girl?"

"Come on over for a sip of whiskey tonight and I'll tell you. Pauline, you won't believe it."

Later that evening, Pauline didn't believe it. Vivian Ferguson shared the news with Pauline Hightower. "And you say he's an eighteen-year-old white boy . . ."

"Yep, and his tongue can't get enough of Vivian's vajayjay. Pauline, I gotta tell you, that boy's addicted to it." "I wish I could find a boy like that."

Pauline Hightower was a few years older than Vivian Ferguson. Like her, she was a janitor at one of the town's other schools and a widow. Her husband died ten years earlier and there had been no men in her life since. She was resigned that her love life was over. She was tall and willowy thin. She'd been an athlete in her youth, but that was over three, maybe four decades ago.

"Pauline, what if I could convince, his name is Marshall, to pay you a visit. I'm sure his tongue will please your vajayjay as he pleases mine."

"I couldn't. Get naked in front of some white boy, no, I couldn't."

"Pauline, listen to me. He makes me sing louder than I do in church. If you don't enjoy him, you never have to see him again. I'm willing to share. Let me tell you a secret," Vivian Ferguson leaned closer. "I make him take off his pants. He doesn't have much, but after a while of his tongue getting up in my vajayjay, he shoots all over."

"Just from . . .?"

"Yep. What are you doing Tuesday afternoon?"

Tuesday late afternoon, Pauline Hightower took a long, relaxing bath. She was still unsure about this date with this white boy, Marshall Albright.

On the other hand, she wanted to look and feel her best. When she was a young, she was a state champion sprinter. Her long legs propelling her down the track. The track girls learned from the swimmers to shave off all their body hair. They were shocked, "all of it?"

"All of it? It'll make you just a hair faster." They giggled.

Pauline kept it like that when she got married. James Hightower loved eating her smooth, bare pussy.

Of course, after he died, she didn't bother. Why?

Now, she meticulously shaved it all off. It took a while, but before she finished she felt that her pussy was as smooth as it was on her wedding night. Of course, that was almost forty years ago.

She didn't have anything sexy to wear, but "if this goes the way Vivian thinks it's going to go, I won't have it on for long anyhow." She found a summer nightgown that was short and low cut. The low cut didn't matter; she didn't have much up there, and never had.

Vivian Ferguson had suggested how she should act when Marshall Albright came to the door.

Exactly on time, he arrived. "Come in, nice to meet you. Vivian said you were handsome and young. I didn't expect you to be so young, and so good looking. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Thank you, ma'am. Nothing, thank you."

"Why don't you have a seat?"

He sat on her sofa; Pauline sat in a chair across from him. They chatted briefly about nothing. "Ummm, Mrs. Hightower, Mrs. Ferguson told me why I'm here and I'm sure you know why I'm here." Marshall got up and knelt on the floor in front of her.

"Ooooh, I didn't think it would happen so quickly. Are you sure you want to? You know I'm older than Vivian."

"Ever since Mrs. Ferguson suggested that I see other women, and brought your name up, that's all I've thought about." He spread her legs. Under the nightgown, she was naked.

"Mrs. Hightower, you're pussy is lovely. If you don't mind, I'd like to kiss it."

Even though Vivian had prepared her, Pauline was shocked. It had been ten years since James died. It was five years earlier that he'd become sick. It was probably another five before that, that he told her she was beautiful and offered to ‘kiss it.' That was before Marshall was born.

Then he started. Pauline Hightower and Vivian Ferguson had known each other since high school. She knew that Vivian was prone to exaggeration.

It only took her a few minutes to realize that she wasn't exaggerating when she told her that Marshall Albright was an all-World pussy eater. And that was before he got to her clitoris. His tongue was magical; his tongue had her moaning. Then he found her little button. Her husband had been good about that but like I said that was twenty years ago. "Hmmmmmm, hmmmmmmm, right there, Marshall, hmmmmmm, ooh yeah. OOOOOOOH Marshall, OOOOOOOOH Marshall, OOOOOOOH MARSHALL."

His tongue played and played. Mrs. Hightower came and came. "You have the most delicious pussy. I could eat it all night."

"Yes, oh yes, keep eating it. My pussy is all yours. Do you want me to suck your cock. You can have anything you want, but right now, don't stop, I'm cumming again. OOOOOOOOH, I'M CUMMING AGAIN, OOOOOOOH, OOOOOOOOOOOOOH. OH, MARSHALL."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hightower. I hope you don't mind. Let me show you something."

Marshall Albright stood up, and right in front of her undressed. She didn't laugh at his little white boy dick. To be fair, she knew what they said about well-hung black men. Of the numerous men she'd slept with she'd never encountered one and neither had any of her friends including Vivian Ferguson. However, she'd never seen one as small as Marshall's.

She was still on an orgasmic high. Besides, it may have been less than four inches, but it was standing straight up against his belly. "See what happens when I eat your delicious pussy."

Then it happened. Marshall spurted. It must have shot seven or eight inches into the air. "Oooh my." A second one flew almost as high; "ooooh my;" and a third. One final shot dribbled out. "I've never seen anything like that. Wow, Marshall."

Pauline didn't really mean she'd never seen anything like it. She recalled that sometimes when she was giving her husband a blowjob, just before he came, Pauline took it out of her mouth and watched him spurt. When he was young, like Marshall, that first blast went seven or eight inches in the air. Pauline was always in awe as she watched James spurt like that. Of course, she then put his cockhead in her mouth and enjoyed the rest of his man cream and licked his cock all over.

"Mrs. Hightower, I'm not sure I can do that again, but I'd love to keep eating you." Marshall didn't hesitate to get back on his knees. As he put his tongue back in her pussy, he mumbled, "you have the sweetest pussy. Thank you." Pauline smiled to herself, ‘he said thank you.'

He insisted that he come back tomorrow. "Mrs. Hightower, I haven't had enough."

The next day when he left her, "Ma'am, if it pleases you I'd like to come back tomorrow. I haven't had enough of your delicious pussy."

This went on day after day; week after week. "Marshall, I'm not complaining, but do you ever get enough."

"Mrs. Hightower, it's your luscious pussy. It's like a magnet for my tongue. I hope you don't mind." Marshall got back on his knees, spread her legs and his tongue got busy.

Mrs. Hightower never brought up his infatuation with her pussy again, but her pussy was always, and I mean always available to him.

On occasion she insisted on getting fucked although his small cock did nothing for her. She insisted as a reward for his tongue work on getting on her knees, although he preferred getting on his knees for her. "Mrs. Hightower, you are so delicious. Please."

What woman could resist the please part?

After graduation, Marshall Albright was off to college on a hockey scholarship. He wasn't all that good, and the college girls laughed behind his back about the size of his cock.

It didn't bother him because as soon as he arrived on campus he introduced himself to the secretary in the African Studies Department; a woman in her fifties. A month later: "Marshall, no one's ever done my pussy like you do it. Be a good boy and show Mrs. Wiggins how much your tongue loves her pussy, again."

Marshall was a world-class pussy eater, and never got tired of her old pussy. Without any prompting from him, one day Felicia Wiggins got a wax. "Felicia, it's so much smoother like this. Can I eat it some more?"

How could she refuse?

He didn't date all through college, unless you call a date with Mrs. Wiggins pussy, a date. He didn't move in with her but on a typical Friday night, hr spent the night: "Felicia, why don't you come back to bed? I've missed your pussy. You know how much I've missed it."

She laughed, "Marshall, you had it just an hour ago. If you insist, but I'd be comfortable over here." She sat in a living room chair with her legs spread over the arms. "Come on, get on your knees."

Moments later. "That's Mrs. Wiggins good boy." She patted his head.

Mrs. Wiggins never asked where his infatuation with black pussy came from; she sat back and let him eat.

She'd been at the college for decades and used her connections to get Marshall hired as an assistant hockey coach.

It was good to be Mrs. Wiggins.

You may be wondering what happened to Vivian Ferguson.

TO BE CONTINUED

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