Black & White & Red All Over

Author's note: This fictional tale includes interracial incest, mature and group sex, and a bit of violence (non-sexual). All depicted sex involves live humans aged 18+. This is a requested alternate version of AS SIMPLE AS BLACK AND WHITE? with significant changes to relationships. Thoughts expressed are not necessarily those of the author. I welcome your constructive feedback.

*****

Faces in mirror are closer than they appear

The tall black girl's name tag claimed she was Dora. As she rang-up my purchases at the stop-n-rob's battered register, she asked, "I seen you a lot, fella, ever since I started this job - d'y'all live around here?"

"No, I'm down from Fontana. My aunt's house is nearby. I look after her." I eyed Dora's buoyant boobs filling her tight uniform blouse and paid in cash.

"Wow! So you come all the way here to Long Beach, like what, every two-three days, and you're always buying her groceries and shit?"

"Yeah, I'm a good nephew, and there's nobody else around."

I hoisted the bag holding milk, bread, lunchmeat, eggs, a few veggies - nothing super-fresh but not too old either. At least this corner gas-n-food joint has pretty fast turnover. Nothing smelled bad. And unlike the typical 'convenience' store sale, mine did not include cigarettes, booze, jerky, or Lotto tickets.

Dora called out as I pushed open the security-bar-covered glass door, "See ya next time, fella!" I waved back at her and got a bright smile in return.

I walked down the messy residential block to Aunt Vanessa's tidy expanded "California Bungalow" from the 1920's, rimmed by a tall 'firethorn' pyracantha hedge. My scruffy old Volvo was parked in front. I unlocked the hedge gate, threw the latches on her door's five locks, relocked once I was inside, unloaded the food in the kitchen, gave the living room a quick squirt with air freshener, and then tip-toed to the furthest bedroom to check on Nessie.

As usual, my aunt was asleep. I woke her and got her cleaned, dressed, and fed. I did not know how long I could continue this. She slept more and more. Eventually, she would have to be institutionalized - I saw no way to avoid it. It was only a matter of time. The paperwork was already in process.

That was Tuesday. I returned on Thursday for the same routine. Well, not quite the same.

*****

"Does your aunt ever go shopping or anything?" Dora asked when I brought my first armful of fairly fresh foods to the counter.

I brushed my sandy hair from my eyes. "No, she never goes out. She has problems."

"What kind problems? D'ya mind if I ask?"

I went to the back of the little store to look at canned goods.

"Her name's Vanessa; I call her Nessie 'cause she's sorta like the Loch Ness Monster - just as hidden, and maybe near extinction. You won't see Nessie outside. She's got extreme agoraphobia, rabid paranoia of outdoors and open spaces. And she has some kind of narcolepsy, always sleeping unexpectedly. And there's a few other problems. Her life is all inside her house."

"Wow, that's the shits. What are you..."

Dora was interrupted when the store door opened and two sloppily-dressed Latino guys entered. They looked around nervously and pulled snub-nosed revolvers. They pointed the barrels of their Saturday Night Specials at Dora. I smelled a taint of old sweat. I do not think they noticed me in the back of the store at first.

"Okay beetch, open the focking register, c'mon, empty eet, now, NOW!" the taller asshole yelled.

The shorter shithead saw me then, and waved his pistol at me. I stood only ten feet away.

"Hey, mericón, get your faggot ass up here, no tricks now!"

I put my hands in the air. I saw Dora look at me. I jerked my head to the side.

"Huh? What?" Dora asked, startled.

Both slime-bags looked at her when she spoke. That was my cue. I was next to a shelf of canned slop. My hand moved quickly. I pitched a can of overpriced chili con carne underhand, rather hard. It bounced off the back of the shorter turd's head with a 'thud'. His partner spun towards me, just in time to receive a can of his own, dead-on to the middle of his forehead. Another thud. Both went down, fast.

I quick-stepped up front and kicked their heads, hard enough for concussions but not fractures, probably. Then I kicked their revolvers away from their limp hands.

"I already hit the alarm button," Dora breathed. "Cops'll be here quick."

I kicked the assholes' heads again, just to make sure they would not get up anytime soon. An ounce of prevention, y'know.

A black-and-white rolled up front maybe a minute later. A second was right behind. The first cop through the door had his service revolver out. His partner held an alley-sweeper shotgun at the ready. Dora and I stood quietly, she behind the counter, me in front, both or us with our hands visible.

"Hey there Dora, having fun without us, huh? What we got here? Oh, it's Luís and Ferdé!" The first cop grinned as he holstered his piece and kicked the pistols on the floor toward his partner.

"Hiya there Teddy. These dickless dipshits cruised in, waved their little toys around. But my friend here took care of them." Dora looked over the counter and down at the floor. "Dennison's chili, huh? I knew that shit had to be good for *something* besides laxatives. Hey guy," she laughed at me, "that was pretty good throwing!"

"I'm a star pitcher in my softball league. I don't usually throw beanballs, but there's a time for everything," I admitted.

The second cop had safed his shotgun and called an ambulance. The backup fuzz stood nearby pretending to be useful while they eyeballed Dora. As paramedics hauled the cuffed turds away, the first cop, Teddy, who looked to be Cambodian, asked Dora, "Does your friend here have a name?"

I carefully pulled I.D. from my wallet and passed it over. "I'm Rory Cooper VanOwen."

Dora did a double-take. "Cooper? That's my middle name too! What's happenin', cuz?"

Picture us: Dora was WAY darker than café au lait, and I was almost as light as vanilla ice cream. Dora looked about a decade younger than my thirty-five years and she almost matched my six-foot height. We were about equally thin. We both looked to be in good shape. But we sure did not look related, not with our skin tones and not much with our faces. Well, maybe our eyes...

Officer Teddy glanced up from my I.D. "You're a long way from Fontana, Mr VanOwen."

"My senior aunt lives nearby. I'm pretty much her only caretaker for now."

"Well, you just take extra care of your own self. Messing with punks like these can be hazardous to your health, even worse than smoking. Hey Dora, gimmee a pack of Camels, okay?" He pocketed the smokes, and then looked at me again. "Cooper, Cooper... you any relation to Vanessa Cooper Nelson on Walnut Street? Been here since forever?"

I was impressed by his local knowledge. "Yeah, that's my aunt."

Officer Teddy whistled tunelessly and shook his head. "You got your work cut out for you, I gotta say. How's she doing now?"

"Not great. And I've got to get back to her pretty soon. You need me here any longer?"

"Well, a statement from you would be good, but I'll bet the surveillance cameras will show all we need to ice these shitheads for a while. Naw, that's okay. Get going now. If we need anything more, we'll get in touch with you. Good luck with your aunt."

"Hey Rory, can we talk?" Dora asked.

"Sure, but I don't have time today. You here Saturday? I'll be back."

Dora came out from behind the counter. "Yeah, my shift is over at 4:00 then. Look, fella, I gotta thank you. Those shits could have *hurt* me. You saved me!" She hugged me. She felt good. Didn't smell bad, either.

"Get a room!" Officer Teddy ordered as he closed the store door.

All the cops and robbers and medics and guns were gone now, and it was my turn to go. I scooped up my grocery bag. Dora had added the two slightly-dented cans of meaty chili. "Souvenirs," she laughed. Or disposing of evidence?

*****

Earlier than usual that Saturday, I shopped, and got another sweet hug from sweet Dora, and tended to fragile Nessie. I was back at the stop-n-rob at shift-change time. Dora wore her almost-skin-tight uniform out the door.

"How about we go down to the harbor and have some decent coffee at the Lighthouse, maybe a snack, too?" I asked her.

"No, how about we go to my place and get to know each other better?" she replied almost innocently.

I was almost innocent too. "Sounds like a plan. Need a ride? Here's my car."

Dora did not sniff at my old Volvo. I held the passenger door open for her, then slipped behind the wheel. She directed me to an apartment building not far away - the usual two levels of stained stucco cells lurking stiffly around what had once been a swimming pool and patio. She led me up the outside stairs to her triple-locked door.

Dora's rooms were bright, neat, colorful, small, and smelled floral. Her bed was large, soft, clean, and had just the perfect bounce.

I learned this right after Dora shucked-off her uniform. She pulled down my cargo shorts and boxers and shoved me onto my back. My head hit the pillows. Yes, I bounced. She quickly finished removing my footwear and lower clothes.

"I *really* want to thank you, Rory! You *really* saved my ass. Now it's yours, all yours. The rest of me, too." Her dark brown face's ruddy mouth descended on my rising pale penis.

My cock stretched out to its full length with her encouragement. Dora pulled back briefly. "Hey, that's pretty good for a white guy! Most of the brothers got nothing on you." Her mouth returned to my sensitive anatomy.

Dora licked around my little head, and up and down my sensitive underside, and fully over my stiffening member, with her eyes locked onto mine all the while. Our eyeballs were still bound together like an opto-electronic linkage when she swallowed me entirely. I involuntarily closed my eyes briefly and moaned. But only briefly; I watched her lovely lascivious performance with great interest. Oh fuck yeah!

Dora deep-throated me slowly and firmly, then faster, then change-of-pace. Her caterpillar lips bumped my pubes and my dickhead must have reached her larynx when I shuddered, "Dora, I'm gonna..."

She sped up her pace, but more shallowly, with my head in her mouth and her tongue working me furiously. And I blew.

And blew. And blew. Four, five, seven or more great hot spurts - I was not counting. I was only drained dry and limp. Dora smiled up at me and visibly swallowed my full load. She licked her lips and smiled.

"That was just for starters, white boy. It only gets better!"

Dora's idea of "getting to know each other better" seemed to consist mainly of fucking me to death. What a way to go!

Dora slid her long lithe dark body up beside my pale frame. I held her head in both my hands and kissed her passionately, with full tongue, tasting her cinnamon breath and a bit of me in her delightful mouth. I did not mind.

I was not a hot young kid any more. I took a while to rejuvenate. Yeah, at least twenty minutes! Dora's hands, then her mouth again, assiduously applied, brought me back to partial attention. I wanted more.

"Get up here on top of me, girl. I want to taste you too."

Dora swung her strong tight legs around and straddled my head. She lowered her pussy onto my questing tongue, and inhaled my cock again, deep and sweet. She fit onto me in a perfect 69 - not too heavy, not too light.

I licked around her swollen wet labia. Oh fuck me, what a great flavor! I probed into her lovely cleft and gathered warm spicy aromatic juices. I savored her, and then turned my attention to her already-stiff clit, more a knob than a nub. I circled around, swirling.

"Oh. Oh yeah. Right there, oh, oh..." she moaned around my dickhead.

My tongue brushed up, down, back, forth, circling, crossing.

"Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh fuck... oh," still mumbling and sucking.

I kept doing that. Dora continued groaning, sighing, wriggling.

I reached between us to her delightful breasts. I massaged those wondrous deep brown melons and tweaked her excited ebony nipples as I applied more suction to her tingly clitoris. Dora groaned louder.

More pressure with my lips and fingers. Sufficient feather-fast flicking of her fleshy taste-bud with my tongue. My attentions had the desired effect. Dora's body tensed and trembled; her sucking stopped; my cock fell from her mouth; she inhaled.

And she wailed. Long and loud. Music to my ears! Well, as much as I could hear with her strong thighs clamping my head. I eased-up a bit with my hands and mouth but continued stimulating and rocking her till she rolled off me, panting and sweating and gasping.

"Stop! Oh fuck, Rory, you are *SO* gonna get a great reward now!"

Dora swung around and full-mouth kissed me with desire and desperation.

"Yeah, I am!" I whispered, rolling her onto her back and moving between her spread knees. My cock slid smoothly into the velvety smoothness of her dark carnal trap. We both grunted with pleasure. She wrapped her long taut legs around my waist and her athletic arms around my neck. She pulled me deep into her being. We fucked.

We fucked in myriad positions. No, I will not list them all; use your own imagination. But after a couple hours, I was quite fucked-out, and happy.

*****

Dora did not reward me just that once. I stayed-over that night, and many other nights when I was in and around Long Beach and did not have to be at home sixty-odd road miles (one hundred klicks) northeast.

Hers was a mixed neighborhood, multi-colored and not very rich, rather like my own lean street. Not quite a slum, nor a ghetto. I did not get *too* many sullen glares from 'brothers' when we walked to her door.

After only a very few of our hot horny sessions, Dora popped the question.

We lay on her sweat-soaked sheets and cooled down from the last orgasms. She looked into my flushed face.

"What d'ya do that lets you get down here every couple days? You work part time or something? You got a home to go to?"

"Yeah, I have a home, and a full-time job. Home is a WWII cottage under the flight path of Ontario International, damn jets overhead all the time. It's not exactly quiet. I don't mind being elsewhere - like right here." I leaned in and nibbled her puffy chocolate nipples. She breathed, "Mmmm..."

"My job is... well, my company finances construction projects all over the southland area. I'm officially a Compliance Engineer, which means I drop in unannounced and do quick checks on paperwork and progress. Got to keep them honest, y'know? So I'm a corporate snoop and nobody at the sites likes me. But I get to pretty much set my own schedule and itinerary."

"That's awful convenient, ain't it? You can get down here whenever you need to or want to. I'm glad." She squeezed my stiffening shaft sharply to express her appreciation.

"Well, I can only juggle things just so much. That's why I miss a day here every now and then, like if I have to drive further or probe deeper."

"Probe deeper, hmm? You probe pretty well. You got a girl in every town, maybe? Good for hot deep probing?"

"Don't ask, don't tell! Not that I have much to tell right now. You don't really *want* me to tell, now do you? Or ask?"

"Yeah, don't ask, that's probably safer. I don't have many recent stories either. No good ones, anyway. But are you all alone now like me?"

"I can tell you this much: No, no current relationships, not outside your bed here. I've got an ex who left a few years ago, thought I was too boring and unambitious and dutiful, and spent too much time and effort on my aunt. She traded me in for a flashy con-man. No loss."

"My last guy didn't work out too well either, that's all I'll say. But you seem to be working out just fine! So far, anyway. How far you wanna go? Where we going?"

I thought about that. I had been thinking about it a bit lately. Were we a 'we'? Were we going anywhere? We had only seen each other in the store for a few months, and known each other in bed for a couple weeks. Dora felt good to me, physically and emotionally and mentally, and close, oh so close. But this was still so new...

Dora watched my face closely.

"Before you answer, I gotta tell ya that I know stuff about you already, just from being with you. You're no player, no jive-ass bullshitter. You're a straight-shooter, but you're careful. You'd rather not talk than tell lies. You try to avoid hurting folks unless they fuckin'-A deserve it. Then you stomp their skulls. You're strong and calm and smack-on. I really like all that. I really like being here with you. I feel good with you."

I do not know what expressions Dora saw my face broadcasting. She must have like them - she kissed my mouth and said, "Talk about it later, yeah," then moved to my cock again and brought me back up, horny as a rhino and twice as hard (but not nearly so grey).

*****

I drove to the food-n-gas-mart the next Friday evening to pick up Dora. She emerged wearing her nicely-filled-out work uniform and carrying a small duffel.

"Change of plans. My fuckin' landlord is finally fumigating the building, gonna kill all the weak cockroaches anyway. And I got tomorrow off. So, we're going to your place for the weekend. Hope you keep it clean, dude. I don't wanna hang in some filthy bachelor pad, y'hear?" She punched my arm.

I was not totally surprised, nor unprepared. I had expected a "you've seen mine, now show me yours" and now was the time.

I held open the passenger door. Dora threw her cherry-red duffel in back and scooted her bubbly butt inside. She gave my cock a familiar squeeze and said, "Home, Jeeves," before I closed the door.

I drove the Riverside Freeway to (hopefully) skip the worst L.A. and Inland Empire traffic. As usual, that almost worked. We still had plenty of time to chat during the jams. Plenty of time.

(My engineering training tells me this: Highway traffic follows the laws of fluid dynamics. That means, we must go with the flow. Sometimes that flow is slow and viscous.)

"Here's what's happenin' tonight, white boy. We'll eat these Hostess pies to give us strength. Don't worry, they're fresh." She waved a package at me.

"We'll park at your house and go inside. If it's not too disgusting, we'll shower - and ONLY shower, no fucking in the stall, y'hear? Then we'll get dressed and go to your favorite Mexican joint for some good tacos. I like chile verde and carne asada. Then we're going clubbing. You better pick good clubs, not too slow, not too nasty. So take your dancing shoes."

And that is what happened. Fortunately, I kept my house tidy and deodorized. Did we fuck in the shower before we went out? Go ahead, guess!

We staggered back through my front door sometime after the last club's 2:00 AM closing hour. We were footsore and sweating and laughing and horny and not too awfully drunk. I peeled off the minimal body-hugging dress Dora had managed to pour herself into. She rid me of my light sweat-wet clothes almost as fast. We fell into the shower for a nice scrub-n-rub session.

We only had strength for one good long energetic fuck then. We smelled like exhaustion. We made up for our shortfall in the morning. Well, late morning. Well, till early afternoon, actually. We were in no hurry, and I had Margarita mix and microwave burritos in the freezer - no need to go out for nourishment right away.

A little food and drink, then back to sucking and fucking. In bed. On the floor, the big couch, the kitchen counter, the dining table. On the backyard picnic table behind cheap bamboo screens. Jumbo jets low overhead provided nice rattling subsonic quakes. Santa Ana winds blew the local smog toward San Diego. It was a good afternoon...

More scrubbing and clubbing that night. More recovery Sunday, and then back to Long Beach with Dora. Alas, I had an early start in Barstow the next day.