1. The Shoplifter Chapter Three


    Date: 3/11/2017, Categories: True Story, Interracial, Pregnant, Author: Barbiebnympho, Rating: 88.9, Source: sexstories.com

    admit I was missing the whole thing at Bobby’s. It was like my entire existence was there in the hood until this was over. It was the only place I felt safe and desired. Tonight I had worn a new longer pleated skirt, and a new larger top that my mother had just bought. They were both in good shape. They had been neatly folded on the chair in the bedroom all evening and they did not get messed up on the way home. My parents were out. I made my way to the bedroom after a little snack in the kitchen. For reasons I could not explain, I no longer wanted to shower when I was finished at Bobby’s. I liked everything about how I smelled and felt and I wanted it to stay with me during the night. My last thoughts were of Amyl’s black hair, encircle in my right arm, as he calmly consumed from my breast. My weekends always moved so slowly, I was bored every minute. There was nothing happening; nothing to think about except the two subjects that dominated my life. The “program” which was bringing my life back to normal; and the wild array of new exotic feelings and emotions which I did not want admit, but which I did not want to go away. As this weekend started I realized that only one of these was dominating my every waking moment—nothing would take the erotic thoughts out of my mind. Every quiet moment; and there were lots of them, the adventures at Bobby’s dominated my thinking and replaced any concerns I had about pregnancy and the procedure. Physically, the sex had become captivating. ...
    My young body had adjusted readily to what I much later in life learned were enormous Negro units. I had an aching need for what they did to me. I craved the activity. Life was so boring at home, but not when I was at Bobby’s. I found I was eagerly waiting for each trip down to the hood. Three times a week had become easy to arrange at home. Things were running smoothly with the pill. Other than gaining weight I was as healthy as could be. The whole subject of intercourse had taken on new meaning. All my early years, whenever I thought about sex it was in the context of love and marriage. He would be just the right guy; I would be the cute, young virgin in white. We would be married. It was going to be so right and then it would be so grand. Now, my shoplifting and the consequences required that I adjust to a completely different viewpoint. Now I was a tramp, nothing more, and beyond that, I had to acknowledge that the sex and all Bobby put with it, had become more than just a means to an end. It was absolutely captivating. I was, as Bobby had called me from the first—that “type” of girl. My early childhood concepts of love and all that stuff went out the window when I shoplifted and got knocked up staying out of jail. Sex was completely differently, now. I craved it. Each of these black guys—and I had now had twenty two of them paying for the program—came to me for one purpose. They were there to fuck me. In most cased they were older and knew for sure what they wanted from ...
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