Remembering Bethany : Part 3

(Part 1 from 2)

(In which Beth goes to the Brown Palace, samples foreign customs and has a trip around the world)
My wife, Adele, had taken the girls back to St. Louis for Christmas with her Mother and I wisely worked my schedule so that I was the only rehab specialist available for the Holidays and I sadly could not go to visit my in laws.

Since my wife was not home and I had been going through poker withdrawal, I got into an all-nighter with some buddies. A brother named Gary who was a chef for the Brown Palace unwisely drew against my inside straight and wound up owing me a bundle. We settled with him giving me a night and dinner at the fanciest hotel in Denver, namely where he worked. Back then the chefs were expected to be on 24hour call for late night room service so he had his own room at the hotel. He also agreed to chauffer me and my chosen companion on the evening in question. I couldn’t very well take Adele because I wasn’t supposed to be gambling, so I decided to surprise Beth.

Every year the Goldrush Bar employees exchanged gifts and I had purchased a black demi-bra with open cups and a matching garter belt with silk stockings for Bethany. She surprised me by giving me a card explaing that she really couldn’t afford anything nice. “Besides your wife would be sure to notice if I did get you anything valuable; so I decided to give you everything for one night.” The card just said ‘the services of Bethany: a slave for one day’.

Now today that might be considered racist or something but back then college kids did that sort of thing for fundraising and as a fraternity stunt or just as a gag gift; and she probably meant it that way but I decided to go with the slave idea. I gave her my gift and she thought it was wonderful even though she had never worn anything like that before. I told her “As my slave this is what you will wear as underwear and nothing else, no slip, no panties, rien, est-ce que tu comprends?”

“Oui, que autre devoir je mettre?” She asked with some hesitation, knowing how I liked to get her to show off her body.

“Oh something nice and some high heels: we’re going out. And by the way, while we are out I want you to speak nothing but your best French because we are going to the Brown Palace Arms.”

Her eyebrows shot up. She obviously hadn’t thought that her gag gift was would involve going out in public especially to something as fancy as the finest restaurant in Denver where she would feel very insecure, especially in the company of a black man.

“Relax; remember you can do anything you want in French as long as you pronounce it correctly.” I quoted Shaw to make her laugh. I figured that since Denver had a lot of racists and bigots back then (still does, I’ve heard) that as a mixed race couple we might get some rude stares and comments, but if we appeared as obviously foreign and beyond their ken, they could ignore us and we could ignore them. I told Beth “Tomorrow night, I will be a wealthy Senegalese businessman and you will be my beautiful Parisian mistress. We have flown into Denver on our way to Aspen and have stopped for a meal at the Palace. Denver is still as insecure about its’ cultural appeal and sophistication in foreign eyes as when the Browns built this place in the last century. I am sure that everyone will be trying to empress us with their cosmopolitism. ”

When I picked her up in the Mercedes with Gary dressed as a chauffer, Beth was very impressed. She looked ravishing in a very fine white silk blouse open to just above the bra clasp at her sternum and tight black mid thigh skirt. The silk barely showed the dark of her areolas and the outline of her nipples through the fabric. Both Gary and I were also impressed. The car was warm enough to make her take her coat off and we all shared a jay of my best stash before heading out. The mix of potent weed and black tar opium soon had Beth’s inhibitions down and we were necking and petting like we were in our teen years in the back seat.

“Je ne peux pas attendre pour mettre mon grand coq noir dans votre bouche." Beth nodded but glanced at the back of Gary’s head before lowering her own into my lap. "Eyes front Gary, you just watch the road.” Of course Gary knew that the Mercedes’ rear view mirror was electronically controlled from the steering wheel and I could hear the little motor whine whenever we came to a stoplight. I repaid his discreet voyeurism by pulling up Beth’s skirt to manipulate her moist and tender chatte with two fingers inside and my thumb outside on her hot button while she ministered to my old nine-iron. While writhing around my fingers, Beth’s falation skills only continued to improve as she explored my organ as if it were a wonderful amusement park for her tongue and mouth with occasional thrusts to bury me as deep in her throat and for as long as she could. I finally had to grab and squeeze my self to prevent ruining our clothes as Beth started to orgasm.

“Oh s'asseoir et nous sommes ici.” Beth sat up as if she were waking from a dream to realize we were in front of the hotel. As she wiped at her face and pulled herself together Gary rushed around to open the car door for us with a grin he could barely conceal. Beth responded with a blushing, guilty smile of her own. I began to realize that she had a streak of exhibitionism and that she got turned on by being exposed for the appreciation of others.

The grand inside of the hotel with its lighted arches and walls of yellow marble and deep plush carpets was very impressive and we were shown to our table quickly by a very polite maître‘d . As we talked, I ordered the Foie gras, truffle soup, lamb for Beth, duck L’Orange for myself, and fruit crepes for desert along with a fine Beaujolais to accompany the meal.

The dinner was sumptuous and leisurely and our conversation in French was sparkling. Beth had a professional appreciation of the wait staff and I was able to share my hobby of people watching by commenting on our fellow diners. I noticed that a nearby couple seemed to be following our conversation and I assessed them silently. The woman was an older blonde and seemed to regard us with a haughty distain. From her intonation in French I detected a Swiss accent. The male had a gray military crew cut and was grizzled in a way that comes from a life in a lot of sun but the top of his head and the back of his neck were fair. His dark eyes looked hard and so did his hands but they lacked the calluses that come from farm work. The faded L.P.N. (Legio Patria Nostra) tattooed on his wrist above the stainless steel Rolex confirmed that he was Ex-Legion.

I raised my glass in toast “Vive La France, Vive La Senegal, rappelez-vous Camarón” referring to a glorious but losing battle fought by badly outnumbered Legionnaires guarding a military payroll at a hacienda somewhere between Veracruz and Mexico City. His eyes lit up and he raised his glass to join my toast and gave an appreciative nod to Beth. I noticed that the woman did not join the toast and continued her hostile looks.

Later, I heard the blonde mutter something about a “singe épris de tramp” after glancing at Beth and I started to get hot under the collar and was considering several comments regarding her personal habits and genealogy that I picked up in Marsalis.

However, Beth and her waitresses’ sense of timing responded wonderfully. She waited until the Ex- Legionnaire had taken a large sip of wine and leaned forward in a stage whisper that only they could hear. “Je ne peux pas attendre pour vous mettre à votre grand coq noir dans ma petite chatte blanche.” He lost control and sprayed the mouthful of wine across the table and all over the blonde. She started screaming about her dress and I quietly requested the check. The waiter replied that it was already taken care of by Gary and handed me a room key.

Beth looked at me in surprise as we walked down the hall to Gary’s room with its fireplace and piano and chilling Champagne and remarked that this was somebody’s apartment and then I had to explain about the poker game. She laughed and stepped into my arms “Am I part of your winnings?” I responded with a passionate kiss and we shared another joint and a glass of the bubbly. Then she sat back to display a vast expanse of silk stocking clad leg and bare thigh and smiled “And what would the wealthy Senegalese gentleman like to do with his little tramp mistress?”

“Judging by the Officers that I had to escort around Ft. Benning as translator, the Senegalese are quite inventive about introducing various parts of their selves into every part of a woman’s anatomy.”I replied with a suggestive leer.

Beth’s eyes widened and she reddened noticeably but handling it well she replied “Well, I hope you will take into account your slave/mistress’s lack of worldly experience and grant me the consideration of gradual introduction to these practices.”

My heart skipped a beat and I felt Mr. Johnson rise to the occasion. “I guess we could start by you showing off my Christmas presents.”

She replied by raising her silk clad leg to caress its length and display the tops of her lacy thigh-highs and garters. She then opened her blouse to show off her demi-bra and the way it pushed up and revealed her breasts in all their glory. Walking over to the piano bench she put one foot up on the bench and bent to adjust the ankle strap of her high heel giving me a beautiful view of her naked bush and gleaming lower lips. “What are you looking at?” Looking over her shoulder at my lustful gaze she brought her fingers slowly up to smooth her stockings all the way to the tops and then to caress her bare inner thighs and lower cheeks and sensually stroke the slickness of her labia.

“Are you ready for me? I’m ready for you.” And she started to unzip her skirt but the zipper jammed and without even pausing she pulled it off over her head and dropped her blouse to stand in just her heels, hose, garters and bra. With a shy smile on her face, the close resemblance to Bettie Paige took me back to the first naked woman I had ever seen in the pages of men’s magazines in the forties.

The sight was magnificent and I quickly stripped down to my boxers with Beth appreciatively appraising the dome tent in my shorts. I pushed her back onto the bed and spread her legs to push my head between her thighs. She had never experienced this I could tell she was shocked by her sharp intake of breath which quickly became a groan as I started kissing her inner thighs and the sensitive skin between her thighs and her Mons.

Now I grew up with the traditional macho black aversion to cunnilingus and Adele would not tolerate it but like several other things I left behind in East St. Louis, I left that reluctance behind and I still liked to practice it on special occasions. As I looked at the combination of innocence and sexual wild woman that Beth had become, I couldn’t resist burying my face in her clean and musky pubic hair.

After her initial shock, Beth arched her back and pulled me by the back of the head into her center and my tongue found her already wet essence. I lowered her back onto the bed and began to work on her most sensitive parts. She opened up like a flower and was soon moaning and panting as she writhed on the bed. I worked two fingers into her and curved them up to massage the back of her clit while she began bucking against my mouth. When I used my little finger to push into her puckered virgin rosebud she screamed and went into a convulsive orgasm that left her limp and dazed. When she came around she sat up to remove her bra and heels and then my boxers.

When old John Thomas swung out to brush her lips, she grinned and began to kiss and fondle it, before pulling it into her mouth to continue the enthusiastic falation she had begun in the car. I marveled at how quickly she had gone from no experience at all to the wonderful Felatrix bobbing her head below me. “You like this old nigger cock, don’t you?

“Uh hunh!” was the best she could manage with her lips wrapped around my now slick ebony shaft as she tried to swallow it whole.
I finally had to stop her and pull her off gasping with a string of saliva trailing from her lips to my cock head as I bent to kiss her. I pushed her back on the bed to stand between her wide spread, silk clad knees. She just looked up at me with eyes grown heavy with lust. “Venir ici et de baise-moi maintenant!” She demanded.

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