Message-ID: <20857eli$9903300219@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: jimmy@jimmy-hat.com (Jimmy Hat) Subject: {Jimmy Hat} NEW: Unexceptional <*> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <199903291927.OAA09515@inetsolve.com> This work contains graphic depictions of sex acts. Please do not continue if this makes you uncomfortable, or violates laws in your part of the world. This story is Copyright 1999 by Jimmy Hat (jimmy@jimmy-hat.com) ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Unexceptional The motel room was more like an apartment. There was a small kitchenette in the corner, complete with a sink, combination microwave and toaster-oven, gas range, and mini-fridge. Next to the kitchenette a small hall led to the bathroom and opened into the bedroom, although only the bath had its own door. So the first room inside the door was a lounge area with a television, sofa, and a card table with four chairs. The motel was a motor lodge close to the airport used by salesmen, and other transients with expense accounts. This time, the expense account belonged to the FBI, and Agents Maytag and Stanton had arranged things for their needs. The chairs stood side-by-side facing the door, a third faced the opposite way in a makeshift position for interviewing. Gerald Maytag shook hands with the man who had just introduced himself as Anson Peters. "Good to meet you, Anson," said Maytag, "Please have a seat. This is Heather." Maytag gestured to his right, unbuttoned his jacket and sat down at the table. Heather Stanton rose from the sofa, brushed herself off, then straightened the back of her navy skirt before shaking hands with Anson and sitting down next to her partner. "Hi, Anson," said Stanton, "I hope you don't mind if we ask you a few questions." The Texas authorities had linked together several racially motivated attacks that had occurred in the last few months. Two of the victims were single white females in their late twenties, one related case involved a black man in his early twenties, and the other incident involved a married white couple in their early thirties. One woman, the last, had been threatened, the others suffered minor property damage. The first attack happened in Dallas, the next in Austin, and the last in nearby Irving, Texas. In each case, the victim had placed a personal ad expressing interest in meeting a black man for an interracial sexual encounter. In one case,the woman arranged to meet several respondents in a public place. The assailant vandalized her car in the parking lot, slashed the rear driver's side tire of a man who responded to the ad and met her that night, and left vilifying notes on their wind-shields. Authorities believed the same method of operation was used to track the married couple back to their house, where the attacker spray-painted racist epithets on their garage. The attacker had grown bolder. In the last incident attributed to the same perpetrator, the victim told police that a white man, wearing dark glasses and a putty nose, had actually arrived at her hotel room and lectured her on the evils of miscegeny. Although he did not physically assault her, he left a threatening note and ran out when the woman reached the phone and asked the hotel operator for help. The Texas Rangers asked the FBI for assistance, and in response, Maytag and Stanton flew to Dallas. There they determined that in all likelihood the attacker would grow more bold and more violent. While the local police and state law enforcement kept surveillance on the known victims, Maytag and Stanton arranged for a set of ads in local papers designed to flush out the attacker. THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN is a small cock. Need BM to satisfy 30ish MWF. Hubby watches. DARK KNIGHT w/long lance wanted to save WF from too-short ivory towers. Age open. VANILLA NEEDS CHOCOLATE Fit 30s WC seeks DDF endowed BM for first time fling. Arrangements were made to meet the respondents at the Motor Lodge in the hopes that the perpetrator would repeat his latest attack. Maytag and Stanton were about to explain this to Anson, when he stood and said, "I know what you want to ask me, and I got your answer right here." Anson then pulled down the elastic waist band of his shiny warmup pants and lifted his shirt. His cock was in full view of the two FBI agents. Its thick base extended out from his short curls, then bent under the effects of gravity and hung over his balls and beyond them. The wrinkled skin and sheer length resembled a dark elephant's trunk. A lighter, cafe-au-lait tip extended just past the circular aperture of his espresso foreskin. Maytag and Stanton simply stared while Anson went on, "Now this generous display of black manhood is yours for the taking, but this panther does require some care and feeding. So I'm going to have to ask you to compensate me for my time, dig? As in, two bills for the lady, and an additional Benjamin if you want to hang out or join in, Casper." Maytag cleared his throat and said, "I hate to disappoint you, Anson, but we're with the FBI." "I feel disappointed, too," said Stanton under her breath. Anson cursed, pulled up his pants and ran for the door. Maytag stopped him before he reached the door, told him he was not in any trouble, and explained the situation. "Are we cool?" asked Maytag after relating the details. "Yeah, I'm cool," said Anson, "But if that motherfucker touches my shit I'm not waiting for you two to show up on the scene. That cracker's going to get himself hurt." Anson left, and Maytag let out a long sigh. "That was unexpected," he said. "And rather impressive," Stanton said. "I meant his solicitation and subsequent attempt to flee," said Maytag, "I see you were thinking of something else." "As if you didn't notice the size of that thing?" asked Stanton. "I thought size wasn't everything," Maytag said mockingly. "Have you ever heard me say that?" asked Stanton, her blue eyes wide open. "You, personally? No," he said with a slight smile. "So you've heard that line before, huh?" "Enough of this already," said Maytag, "we have some work to do." The second appointment began when a black man in his late thirties knocked on the door. Maytag answered the door and invited the man in with a polite, "Hello, you must be Darnell." "Yes, and you must be Gerry," replied Darnell with a firm handshake. Darnell moved across the room to Stanton's position, and smiled. His smile stood in bright contrast to the dark somber tones of his button-down shirt and slacks. "I'm Heather," said Stanton, extending her hand and a smile of her own. "I'm charmed," said Darnell. "Please, sit down," said Maytag. "I want to apologize for looking so formal, but we thought that might set the right atmosphere." "That's no problem," said Darnell with an easy laugh, "This is your show, dress like you want. It does look like some sort of job interview, though." Maytag and Stanton enjoyed a laugh as well. That's almost certainly what this looked like, with Stanton in her power suit, and Maytag in his jacket and tie sitting across the table from Darnell. "Well," said Maytag, "We actually haven't been completely honest with you, here. To avoid some of the -" Maytag looked over at Stanton, and was greeted by a raised eyebrow "- earlier embarrassment we've had, we want to come clean with you right away." "That's a relief," said Darnell, "I actually have a separate agenda coming here as well." "Is that so?" said Stanton. "Absolutely. You see, when I saw your ad, I must say that it struck me as having a somewhat confused and stereotypical view of the black man." "Look," began Maytag, "About that-" "No," interrupted Darnell, "Don't apologize. I understand. Society perpetuates myths about the black man's sexual appetite and prowess. Not to mention physical endowment." "About the ad," said Maytag. "Hey," Darnell interjected, "I know you just want to indulge in a fantasy here, but by holding these views you only continue the system of bias that has been responsible for years of oppression in this country. The image of the well hung black man turning white women into wanton creatures of lust only results in blacks being hung in a much less flattering manner." "Darnell!" pleaded Maytag. "So I answer personal ads seeking this myth in order to talk to people, and prove that not all black men are over large mandingos who can't wait to have their way with a blue-eyed blond-haired white woman. The fact is, my penis is average in size, at best." "That's not what we're here for," said Stanton, enjoying her own double entendre, "You see-" "Darnell," Maytag said abruptly, "What if I don't believe you?" "What?" exclaimed Stanton. "I'm just asking," said Maytag. "Allow me to show you," said Darnell as he stood from the table and began to unbuckle his belt. Soon his pants and briefs were around his ankles, but the shirttail obscured the central part of Darnell's thesis. "Sorry about that," he said, and then he began to unfasten his shirt. With every button, Darnell revealed more of his chest. His skin was a rich brown that gave his muscles luster in the light of the room. Pectoral muscles lifted his chest, and subtle grooves marked his abdominals. He was undercutting his demonstration of sub-average physicality. "Do you work out?" Stanton asked. "Actually, Heather," said Darnell, stopping for a moment, "I used to swim competitively. Another stereotype I like to dispel." With that, he removed his shirt. While that did serve to reveal an exceptional set of arms and shoulders, it also showed that what was below the waist was rather unexceptional. "Well, that's nothing," said Maytag. "Maytag!" "I'm not offended," Darnell assured them. "That's my whole point." "No," said Maytag, "I mean that doesn't prove anything." For a moment, Stanton looked confused before a twinkle came into her eye She asked, "Care to measure up? You could get naked, too." Darnell looked between the two of them, somewhat uncertain what was transpiring and somewhat uncomfortable now that he was mostly naked.. "That's not what I had in mind," said Maytag. "What I meant is that the size means nothing when he's flaccid." "Well he can fix that," said Stanton, straightening herself in her seat. "Right, Darnell?" she asked as she nodded towards his limp dick. "You want him to do *what*?" asked Maytag. "You brought it up," said Stanton. "I don't know if I can do that," said Darnell. "You can't get yourself hard?" asked Heather. "I mean I don't have a lot of experience with doing that in front of other people. Especially..." Darnell's words drifted off as he tilted his head towards Maytag. "Oh," said Stanton. "What do you think?" she asked Maytag, "Do you mind stepping outside for a moment?" Maytag hesitated, "I don't know if that's appropriate." "Don't worry," said Stanton. She got out of her seat and herded Maytag towards the door, "This is purely an experiment. We should be done in a few minutes." "Stanton," whispered Maytag as they neared the doorway, "We are conducting an investigation." "That's all I plan to do," she said while opening the door, "Conduct an investigation." The door shut in front of Maytag before he could say another word. He stood there outside the hotel door for a moment, then turned and headed down the motel stairs to find a cup of coffee. Inside the room, Heather walked by Darnell, indulged in a quick look at his backside, and then sat down on the sofa behind him. He turned to look at her and said, "That seemed strange. Is that what Gerry meant when he said that you two hadn't been honest? I mean, it doesn't seem that you two are a couple." "No, we're more like partners." Heather watched as Darnell leaned over to remove his shoes and pants. "What if I told you that an hour ago I saw a black man with an extremely big dick?" "I'd say that you got what you asked for," replied Darnell. "Your ad stipulated hung black men, and that's what you got. Others need not apply. I would also be willing to bet that he was some sort of hustler and expected to be paid for his time." Heather nodded. "Heather," Darnell said, "One is not a large statistical sample." "Maybe not, but what a large sample that one was." "Well, this should make two, and it should bring your average down, and some of your misconceptions in line." Heather leaned back. "OK, you're on." With that Darnell reached down with his right hand, and took hold of his dick with his thumb and forefinger. He pulled up and away from his sac, and let his remaining fingers play with the loose flesh supporting his balls. Slowly he tugged at his cock and rubbed his thumb against its head. Eyes closed, he slowed his breath and licked his lips. His hand traced small circles in the air as he pulled, in front of the tight spirals of the small clusters of hair that sprung from the skin surrounding his cock. It was a meditative cycle. Heather watched with blue eyes while he yanked and groped in a steady pattern. The skin stretched, it relaxed. His balls swung freely, sometimes in synch with his stroking, sometimes slapping gently against the back of his hand. His concentration was apparent, his effort steady. Within a minute, a rivulet of sweat had started under his right arm and trickled down to his thigh. Though his cock had swelled somewhat, it was not yet fully erect. He opened his eyes and glanced at Heather. She looked up from his handiwork to meet his glance and bite her upper lip. "That's it, we're moving along nicely." At that Darnell grinned, and closed his eyes again, returning to the private visions of his growing arousal. Heather noticed he breathed faster. "That's it," she said, "that looks good." Darnell opened his eyes again and looked down at Heather. He struggled to control his breath, and once in every few strokes his chest heaved to gulp new air. Sweat had formed on his brow and on his neck. Heather locked eyes with him, then released them as she surveyed his lean upper body, and then his inflated cock. She looked away from him and then at her own lap, hoping that his eyes had followed. She took hold of the hem of her dark skirt and then inched it up along her legs slowly. She heard him gasp as the skirt went over the dark brown tops of her thigh-high nudes, and the wide elastic band gave way to her smooth pale skin. Heather looked up at Darnell and saw that he was transfixed. At the same steady pace, she lifted her hips to pull the skirt past them and reveal the simple white cotton triangle that covered her sex. Heather looked down at his cock and saw that it had grown to accommodate all four fingers on its length. What had been a circular set of tugs had changed to a steady pumping. The sweat beaded up on his torso. Darnell's gaze left her crotch; the spell somehow dispersed when the skirt no longer had any place to go. He exhaled deeply, let go of his cock, and the stiff plank stood straight out from his body. "You see," he said, "That isn't exceptionally large or--" Heather had leaned forward and engulfed his cock in her mouth. Warm wet velvet pressed against the underside of Darnell's cock. She had managed to take much of him into her, and her painted lips and ruddy cheeks looked exquisite as they pulled away from his almond-shell shaft. Heather stopped at the head and sucked, then opened her lips and rolled her tongue around the tip of his cock. It twitched and jumped over her upper lip, and she adjusted her head to capture it again and run her mouth back down his salty length. She cupped his balls with one palm, took his ass in her other and guided him forward. When she released he fell away from her, and in this way she slid him in and out for her mouth. "Oh, Heather," said Darnell, "That's just how I like it." Not to be outdone by former paramours, Heather freed her mouth and gripped his cock and said, "Is that so." Before he could answer, she had half of his cock in her mouth. When she closed her lips they grazed against his pubic hair, and his cock lodged firmly against the back of her throat. Quickly, Heather ran her mouth along him and plunged down again onto the full length of his shaft. She worked his cock, pumping its now glistening skin with her fist while she licked his balls, before running her tongue back over the length of his meat and taking him into her mouth once more. Darnell watched Heather tend to his cock with her lips, and noticed that she was tending to herself with a free hand. She had pulled the white cotton of her panties aside, and circled three fingers at the center of her dark thatch. When he saw her fingers drift from circling her clit to delving between her lips and sliding inside her, he spoke. "Oh, Heather, I want you now." Heather hooked her thumbs in the sides of her panties. She released Darnell's cock, stood, and pulled the panties down. After kicking them off, she twirled on the heels of her shoes, slid one knee onto the sofa and lifted up the back of her skirt while bending at the waist. Darnell dropped to his knees to admire Heather's round ass. He kissed her cheek, pressed his nose against the tender flesh. He pulled back to look at that junction where her toned thighs emerged from her stockings and met the full curves of her ass. Delicately, he probed forward between her legs with his tongue. Curling upwards, he touched her clit and cleaved her lips as he withdrew. Heather leaned forward to grab the top of the sofa and pushed her knee out to one side to give Darnell more room. He responded by burying his face in her backside. His nose pushed against the crack of her ass, and his lips fully embraced her pussy. He pushed his tongue against her slit. He licked, he flickered, he swirled. Heather rolled her head back, and then let it hang down. She snuck a glance back at the dark shoulders that emerged from behind her hips, then brought her head to rest on the backing of the sofa. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to his kisses. Soft wet kisses gave way to hot sliding strokes when Darnell rose, parted her slightly, and entered her. With his hands on her hips, he set the rhythm; she pushed back to meet him in time. Steadily, the strength of his thrusts grew to a steady thumping. Heather shrieked. She continued with those soft high notes, and Darnell grunted a full octave or two lower. They built to a crescendo, and the music spilled over and over in Heather's head: the thumping, the grunting, the shrieking. Darnell's moans grew louder, and as he came Heather reached her own coda. The volume swelled, and by the end, she heard sirens join the mix of their panting, groaning, and slapping. Darnell pulled out and collapsed on the sofa, but the high pitched sound remained. Heather looked down at him. "Do you hear sirens?" Recognition crossed Darnell's face, and Heather raced to towel off and make herself presentable. Darnell followed Heather's harried pace and was soon dressed as well. Outside, the sirens had been turned off, but the two squad cars remained at odd angles in the parking lot. Maytag stood with a police officer. Stanton rushed to join them, and Maytag quickly explained what had happened. On the way back from getting coffee, he saw what at first appeared to be a man working to replace a bad tire. As he drove by, however, he saw the man attempt to hide a knife. Maytag identified himself, struggled briefly with the suspect, but was able to subdue him. The motel staff had called the police. Unfortunately, it was Darnell's car, and he left with the officers to file a complaint. "Sorry that I wasn't able to help," offered Stanton sheepishly. "Don't worry about it," said Maytag, "It was luck that I saw the guy. We might not have found him if you hadn't kicked me out." Stanton nodded in agreement, but wore a look of disappointment. "How did the research go, anyway? Do we need to call Masters & Johnson?" "No," said Stanton, "Darnell's size was nothing exceptional. But, hey, you know what I always say, right?" "What's that?" asked Maytag. "Size isn't everything." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- I hope you enjoyed that. Please email me with any comments! Copyright 1999 by Jimmy Hat (jimmy@jimmy-hat.com) Anyone wishing to charge fees for access to this material, through any media or publication, must receive the written permission of Jimmy Hat. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----