Once out from under the man’s direct scrutiny, Kaila had gathered her tattered composure about her and tried to resume her lunch. Biting into her broiled fish without tasting a bit of the succulent flesh, she’d chewed slowly, jaws working independently as she’d indulged in her favorite pastime: fantasizing over men who’d never be seriously interested in her plump, black woman’s body.
It had been ridiculously easy to imagine this man’s tanned muscular body naked beneath her roaming fingertips, his long limbs entangled with hers in a hungry embrace. With a strangled moan, she’d shaken off the fantasy, eyelids drooping under the heavy mantle of unfulfilled lust. Reaching for her water glass with trembling fingers, Kaila had gulped the cooling liquid, chagrin washing over her as the state of her panties attested to liquid pooled in places other than her mouth.
Gulping for air, Kaila gripped her fork with one shaking hand, pressed the other against the rounded swell of her belly as her erotic visions sparked a burning conflagration in her belly and lower.
It took another ten minutes to cool down during which his party had arrived. Why had she heaved a sigh of relief when she’d seen it hadn’t been a woman after all? Hey, hadn’t she heard Pavel call the second man his prince? And what had the new guy meant about Pavel not using his own title? Well, that pretty much put her fantasies to rest. Kaila sighed, glum over the ending of an affair that had never even gotten started. Damn, but why did the tasty ones always have to be out of her range -- both socially and otherwise?
In her eyes, Pavel seemed more like a prince than that hoity-toity white man so stuck on himself he never noticed the waitress he’d almost knocked off her feet. Unlike Pavel, whose brawny physique made her pussy cream, the prince was too svelte for her tastes. This Rickard guy was tall, yes, with a well-defined and muscular body that might be called extremely handsome in a…regal
sort of way, but he just didn’t do it for her.
He was very pale -- Scandinavian pale -- with ice-white hair and frosty blue eyes that made her think of clear, frozen Alaskan ponds. She shivered, and not in a nice way. He seemed too cold for her, too contained. Perhaps, if she’d seen him before she set eyes on Pavel? No. The chilly prince just didn’t light her fire. He wasn’t the one her libido had honed in on. Pavel, now…
Nothing ever came of her interests…and she didn’t expect anything to come of this one. Her excessive weight tended to make most men -- the men she’d
be interested in, anyway -- overlook her for anything sexual. Her looks might not be much to write home about, but Kaila knew she wasn’t truly ugly. Weren’t people always telling her how lovely her face could be if she’d only lose a few pounds?
I always find myself drawn to tall brawny white men, men that could easily pass for lumberjacks. Why don’t they return the favor and feel attracted to big, brawny women…this black, brawny woman, at that?
Overhearing this Pavel guy liked a little meat on his women’s bones had her pulse jumping with excitement. Experience told her most pretty white men weren’t interested in dating black women, let alone really
fat, black women with hang-ups. There wasn’t just meat on her bones; there was a hell of a lot of gravy and mashed potatoes.
Absently polishing off the last morsel on her plate, Kaila leaned closer to the dividing partition, dying to catch another snippet of conversation.
“What can I do for you, hon?”
Kaila jumped. “Oh, you startled me!” Caught up with eavesdropping, she’d forgotten signaling for the waitress. Conscious of how easy it was to overhear neighboring conversation, she kept her voice low and flashed a wry smile at the hovering woman, indicating her empty plate. “I’m finished. May I have the check, please?”
“Want coffee or dessert?”
“No, thank you. I don’t drink coffee.”
The waitress stacked the silverware and unused coffee cup on top of the plates, adroitly hefting the entire pile in one hand. Snatching a cloth from her apron pocket, she wiped down the table with a practiced swirl. “Sure you don’t want any dessert?”
Kaila’s self-conscious glance at the dividing partition was telling. The two hotties’ overheard conversation had sparked a different kind of appetite, one that left her aching and ravenous…but not for food. She wanted dessert, all right -- it just wasn’t available from the restaurant’s menu.
With a sigh, she handed over her Visa card. “Thanks, but not today. I’m dieting.” The long stress of the first syllable of dieting
indicated what she thought about America’s fanatic pastime.
The waitress nodded, popped her wad of gum, and gave her shoulder a commiserating pat. “I know the feeling, believe me, doll.” She waved the credit card before tucking it into her chest pocket. “Be right back with this and your receipt.”
As she waited for the waitress to return, Kaila scrunched closer to the partition, unconsciously breathing through her mouth to minimize the noise. Rickard’s teasing rebuttal of Pavel’s concerns had her eyes widening in shock. Spanking? Grown women?
She hadn’t been spanked since the sixth grade when her father caught her and a friend writing graffiti on the school walls. Seeing he was the janitor, he’d been incensed to learn his daughter had been one of the culprits causing him extra work. Just the reminder of that righteous walloping and the threat of receiving more of the same had served to keep Kaila on the straight and narrow all through her teenage years.
What would it be like, being spanked by Pavel, stripped and humiliated in public for being caught cheating on her diet? Would he use a strap, a rod, or his hand? His hand, she decided. He would want the punishment to be personal, would want her to know how much she had disappointed him.
With stern sorrow, he would order her over his naked lap, but there’d be no disguising the jut of his hard, thick cock prodding her belly while he held her down. Raising and lifting his big hand, he would pound her butt repeatedly, raining merciless, punishing blows on her large, cushiony ass. When he finished, before he let her up, his hands would soothe the hurt he’d inflicted; his lips would kiss and caress the hot and tender skin of her bottom, letting her know the punishment hadn’t been vindictive. Then he would turn her over, forcing her burning cheeks to bear her weight as he gripped her knees, lifted, and spread her legs wide, and aimed his cock at her swollen folds…
Kaila grabbed her water glass and chug-a-lugged the remaining contents. Good golly, Miss Molly! Where had that come from? She fanned herself. Whoo-hee, but that spanking fantasy had lit her flames. She shifted, womb burning as if it was on fire, producing another wash of scalding juices to further soak her panties.
This is just dandy! Now I’ve got to deal with the discomfort of wet underwear when I go back to work
Biting back a shaky moan, afraid the men on the other side of the partition would hear her, Kaila squeezed her thighs together in a useless attempt to ease the throbbing in her empty vagina. Nothing she did seemed to help. She’d never been this wet and horny in her life.
And she didn’t understand why.