A Sexy Volunteer For Encouraging Participation In The Voting Process Meets Interracial Lesbian Seduction And Domination
Kimber was powered by youthful energy, youthful idealism, and the energy drink she’d slammed ten minutes earlier.
It wasn’t easy being a volunteer, at least not this kind of volunteer. It was a lot of walking and climbing stairs and then standing with good posture as well. This kind of volunteering seemed like it was made for younger people who were in good shape. Kimber was exactly such a person but even she got tired after hours of exercise and hot sun. Thus, the energy drink.
It was funny, everyone always marveled at how much energy Kimber had even with no energy drink in her but she always wanted even more energy. She sort of wished she didn’t need to sleep. She could get so much more done that way!
Like with her current volunteer activity. Kimber was super into volunteering. It was fun, it made a difference in the world, and it would look great on future resumes. Kimber had completed three years of college and was looking forward to getting out into the real world and making a real difference.
Until then, volunteering was how she made a difference. With the election one day away now she was still trying to get out the vote. She went door to door and handed out pamphlets and shared information on the importance of voting, awareness of voter suppression, and on how to register to vote.
It wasn’t really fun or easy. It was tiring after awhile walking all over, standing and talking, and it was sort of mentally and emotionally tiring because so many people wouldn’t answer their door, didn’t care enough to vote, or were even rude about her efforts.
Believe it or not, a lot of the people she ran into who said they voted were against her efforts. They felt like she went around getting people to vote who otherwise would not vote and that these people’s votes might cancel out their own vote. They seemed like they felt their vote should have greater importance or validity than most other people’s votes.
Kimber felt strongly that everyone should vote and everyone should have a say in American democracy. Admittedly, she had her favorite candidates and a certain party affiliation. She was not supposed to tell anyone her opinions about candidates though. That would be a no no! She was to try to get people to vote and was not to try to campaign for any candidates themselves.
Kimber knew it was true that a lot of people she tried to get to go out to vote really would vote against her candidate.
For instance, the people of the current neighborhood she was in. This neighborhood had been saved for last by the volunteer organization because it was a crime hot spot. Kimber suspected the head of the volunteer group actually never intended for any of the volunteers to go here. Kimber had insisted. She was tired but these people should also be encouraged to vote. Even if they voted against Kimber’s candidate.
Kimber just loved loved loved mayoral candidate Walter Mitchell. He was so handsome in a “daddy” kind of way. He seemed like he could be a great president someday though he was a bit old for that starting out as a mayor.
Kimber never dated a guy older than her by more than four years. That was one of her rules! Old guys, stick to your own age group!
That was her rule but she’d make a heckuva exception with Walter Mitchell. She actually wished she could be campaigning for him. She’d fantasized about the two of them working extra late some night, after all the other lesser volunteers and less die-hard campaigners had gone home and then Mayor-to-be Mitchell would just… take her! Just bend her over some table full of campaign posters and just go at her. She’d let him do anything to her! All her little “not there” and “not there either” during sex rules would be cast aside or… ripped asunder!… for handsome Mr. Mitchell.
Too bad he was married. But, in her fantasy, the marriage was just one of convenience, a loveless one, that could be cast aside so that Walter could be with his greatest supporter, Kimber.
Darn, she really should be on his campaign instead!
Kimber actually felt a bit like a traitor to handsome Mr. Mitchell by being in this neighborhood. No one here would vote for him.
Mr. Mitchell wanted more law and order, new stricter laws, a new bigger prison, and to pay for them by putting an end to free handouts. Oh, and lots of new statues of confederates.
It turned out, and Mr. Mitchell pointed it out, that the confederates had lots and lots of great American generals and so many of them had gone ignored. Poor generals! Not getting the honor they deserve!
However, even though no one in this neighborhood was likely to vote for Mr. Mitchell, and even though it was a super close election just a day away from election day, Kimber still felt strongly about her volunteer activity.
Plus, it would sound good if she could tell future employers about how she volunteered to help produce more voter participation right up until election day and even on election day. Yep, that would sound great! Then they’d know she was the go-getter that she was!
Admittedly, when Kimber volunteered, or, well, insisted on coming to this neighborhood to help make a difference, she’d had no real idea how very much she’d stand out. In every way.
She had nice clothes that were in style for one thing. Also… she was white and it seemed like no one else was. They weren’t all black though. There were Asian and middle eastern and hispanic citizens as well.
But, yeah, most of the people she saw were black. Of course, not all blacks were bad. She was pretty sure Mr. Mitchell had a few blacks on his staff. Or did he? Well, even if he didn’t, she was sure he would fairly consider them for positions as long as they believed in what he believed in, important stuff like honoring those poor dead confederate generals who fought – or maybe just made other men fight – to preserve a whole way of life. An entire culture!
A lot of people got all judgy about confederates and slaves. As Mr. Mitchell himself pointed out, all the greatest civilizations, from the Greeks to the Romans to the Egyptians, had lots and lots of slaves. Slavery was a marker of great civilizations. It was a wonder that America did as well as it did with no slavery but, again as Mr. Mitchell pointed out, of course America got off the civilization launchpad with a great blast off from slavery. Who knew how great America would be today if they’d kept that whole slavery thing going.
The people who answered their doors didn’t seem very friendly usually. That was not how most people reacted to Kimber. She had a great big smile. A beauty pageant smile is what her mom said. She also had the beauty pageant contestant body, stacked, and long well-brushed hair, flowing like melted gold.
She wasn’t too tall though. Or really, she was too short being only a few inches over five foot, to ever be a model or in a beauty pageant. She’d rather be a politician anyway. Or… a politician’s wife maybe. Mrs. Kimber Mitchell had a nice ring to it! Get it? Ring?
In this neighborhood no one was friendly right up until someone finally was.
A black woman answered a door, at first looked hostile to the point of being ready for a fight depending on who had knocked, and then a huge smile exploded onto her face.
Kimber began her spiel but almost right away the woman introduced herself as DeWanda and said that Kimber looked worn out and thirsty. Kimber admitted that she was sort of tired and a bit thirsty (again!) but really wanted to talk to DeWanda about the importance of voting.
DeWanda said, “First things first, sexy girl who came knocking on my door. Come in here, I’ll give you a drink and we can sit and you can tell me all about what you got to tell me.”
That was awkward. Really, Kimber was not supposed to go into homes. It was some kind of safety rule. But that was made for when a man answered the door she assumed. Besides, she’d had so many rude responses it was kinda nice running into someone friendly.
So that was how she ended up on a beaten up stained couch holding a glass of water in a chipped cup. The place was really messy. She supposed she could describe it as cluttered if she were trying to be nice. She would not have come in if she’d known the place was in this state. She was none too sure about drinking out of that cup either.
Kimber set down the cup on the coffee table and went into her talk about the importance of voting and the ongoing threat of voter suppression. It was sort of weird because here she was; early twenties, very early, and the woman she was telling “what’s what” to looked to be a couple decades older than her at least. It felt patronizing to be telling her to vote and how to go about it.
At least Kimber could tell that the woman was really listening and paying attention.
How did she know? Because DeWanda leaned forward, staring steadily into Kimber’s eyes, and even put a hand on Kimber’s nearest pant-covered thigh.
Kimber was pretty sure that was a black thing. That touching of the thigh of the person talking to let them know you were for sure listening.
Also… rubbing the thigh. That must be in order to make sure the talker knew their words were heard. That was… polite of DeWanda.
DeWanda bringing her face so close was some kind of primitive way to show she liked what Kimber was telling her. That she got it. Kimber was pretty sure that was how it worked. Same thing with that hand on her thigh going higher on her thigh. It was just mirroring DeWanda’s approaching face. Imitating it.
Kimber knew this was no big deal. DeWanda was a woman, not a guy. It wasn’t like her touching and the way she licked her lips just half a foot away from Kimber’s face could be anything sexual.
Well… Kimber had heard about lesbians. But it still wasn’t even possible. She guessed she did not know if DeWanda was or was not a lesbian. But she for sure knew DeWanda was too old. It had to be obvious to DeWanda as well. DeWanda was old enough to be Kimber’s mother and then some.
DeWanda’s hand was, Kimber guessed, still technically on her leg. The palm was but it rested at the very top of Kimber’s thigh and so, the side of her index finger just happened to press up on Kimber’s crotch. It was right on the inside seam of her pants. It wasn’t just on it actually. It was swiping side to side a little as DeWanda squeezed Kimber’s skinny but soft inner upper thigh.
Kimber figured those squeezes were a primitive way of trying to be reassuring. Well, she hoped that was what it was.
She did admit that this way of reassuring was, to her, the opposite of reassuring. That must be one of those “cultural difference” things.
Even besides the age difference there was the even more obvious thing that made any attempt at, well, anything, by DeWanda unlikely beyond the pale.
DeWanda was black and Kimber was white. Kimber was sure Dewanda must know she was black. She likely had a mirror somewhere around!
Ooo, that squeeze was really firm! It compressed Kimber’s upper thigh and accidentally made the top of her hand, the side of her index finger’s knuckle, jam right into Kimber’s crotch.
Some kind of misunderstanding here….
Okay. Time to say something!
See something, say something! Wait, that was with terrorism. What about this kind of misunderstanding? Kimber had it! Feel something, say something.
She was definitely feeling something. DeWanda was doing little fast pulse squeezes on Kimber’s upper thigh and each one seemed to send blood flow – and sensations – into Kimber’s pussy.
Kimber had to say something!
“DeWanda. Could you… would you… uh… give me some space?”
DeWanda’s smile was huge and warm but somehow seemed like it was just fixed on her face like one of those sticky window decorations, “Oh, girl, don’t mind me. You just go ahead now. Tell me all about it.”
It hadn’t worked! She’d asked DeWanda to stop and DeWanda just wasn’t stopping. Kimber probably couldn’t ask again. That would be rude and she was a guest and then also DeWanda might tune out her important message about voting.
It was funny how the human body could send mixed up deceptive signals. For instance, right then. It felt like DeWanda was now cupping Kimber’s pussy through her pants and panties. That’s how it felt but Kimber knew that couldn’t be true. DeWanda’s hand must still be a few inches over innocently rubbing and working her thigh.
Kimber knew the hand couldn’t be on her pussy. She had good reason to know that. One, DeWanda was too old and too black and they’d just met as well. Two, Kimber’s pussy felt hot and steaming damp all of a sudden and the feelings were amazingly good. There was just no way some old black lady stranger could do that to her pussy. The effect had to be from all the long hours and physical exertion walking all over and going up all those stairs.
Instead of an optical illusion this was a sensory illusion. It must be.
It did feel exactly like a hand helping itself. Really pressing and working in. Kimber could have sworn it felt like some of her panties and maybe even some of her light slacks were now up past her pussy lips and going even inside her.
It even felt like… DeWanda’s fingers were stuffing more of it in. Like they were trying to see how much of Kimber’s clothing could be stuffed inside her pussy while she still wore the clothes!
Wow! Kimber thought that would be a crazy competition and that she was quite lightheaded to even think it up. What a slutty thought.
Only sluts were supposed to think slutty thoughts! You are what you think? Maybe. But Kimber wasn’t a slut! Sure, she felt like a slut but that was like the hand thing, an illusion. Feelings were deceptive and not to be trusted.
Kimber kept talking about the importance of voting. DeWanda sure did seem interested. Now DeWanda’s face was blocking out her view of the room. She was that close! Kimber could smell that DeWanda had been eating cheesy puffs before Kimber knocked on her door.
Actually, Kimber liked cheesy puffs! But they were so bad for you! You are what you eat.
It seemed like DeWanda was maybe bad for her also.
That hand! That hand that wasn’t even there! It felt so real! How could something so not there have such a strong effect? That effect was physical on her pussy and emotional as well. Kimber did feel like a slut. She really did. Like she might almost do anything.
Getting people to vote didn’t seem to be so important all of a sudden. Satisfying her pussy took preeminence. Maybe she should just leave and go straight home?
Wow, it even felt like that hand that wasn’t there had just popped the button on her pants… and was dragging down the zipper….
Maybe that was a good thing. That zipper had felt like — though she was sure it wasn’t since there was no hand there — had felt like it was digging into her most tender of areas. Perhaps it was best that it was out of the imaginary way.
Holy Stuffed Rabbits! (A saying of Kimber’s that always made her friends laugh because no one could really figure it out and she could not remember how she started saying it since she’d begun saying it as a small child.)
That imaginary hand felt even better with no pants in the imaginary way!
And then….
And then….
The fingers of that imaginary hand felt much better once they pushed aside the wet panties with imaginary agility. Because they slid right into Kimber!
It felt so darn good despite only being some figment of imagination that Kimber’s words — describing how to register to vote, how easy it was even as the fingers easily slid into her — faltered and then stopped. Heavy breathing replaced them.
DeWanda’s face was so close to her own that Kimber felt like all the air she breathed in had first been inside DeWanda’s lungs. She knew it because that air tasted like cheese puffs and cigarettes.
Kimber thought she better look down just to make very sure that what she felt going on down there at her pussy really for sure was not going on down there at all. Just to get a quick little visual confirmation of what she knew must be the truth of it.
She even started to look down but stopped herself before ramming her forehead into DeWanda’s face.
Can’t head butt them into voting! Wouldn’t be right!
DeWanda’s face was just too close.
Oh, somehow even closer now.
Oh no! DeWanda must have thought, so silly, that Kimber had moved her face forward to kiss her! As if! Because suddenly… now… DeWanda….
Holy Stuffed Rabbits!
DeWanda’s big mouth and huge lips seemed to engulf Kimber’s set of lips. For a moment. Then DeWanda’s surprisingly strong tongue shoved Kimber’s lips out of the way. Kimber knew that tongue was strong because she tried to keep her lip gates closed and that didn’t even come close to being effective.
DeWanda’s tongue entered her mouth like a powerful pink snake that just kept snaking deeper.
It was so strange because, as the tongue pushed in, it felt like it entered Kimber’s pussy at the same time. When Kimber’s mouth popped open helplessly something made Kimber spread her legs wide like she was some kind of slut.
DeWanda’s tongue plundered Kimber’s mouth and DeWanda managed to get a third and then a fourth finger inside Kimber’s pussy. Now Kimber knew that hand was for real.
How had she ever thought it wasn’t really there?
She felt so stupid. She felt like a stupid slut. That sounded right. The slut part sounded… good.
After a full minute, DeWanda retracted her tongue. Kimber was embarrassed that she didn’t, seemingly couldn’t, close her mouth fully. It was like, it was just like, she wanted that black woman’s tongue to come right back.
DeWanda said, “White slut girl, what I just did to your mouth I’m gonna do to your sweet golden pussy. I’m going to eat you. You my afternoon snack.”
DeWanda slid down and dragged Kimber’s pants and panties off. Kimber was lax except for helping a little by lifting her narrow ass. Kimber couldn’t think about resistance any more. She needed satisfaction. Resistance and satisfaction were mutually exclusive.
DeWanda snacked on her. Kimber watched in a sexual daze. DeWanda’s eyes were happily lit up above Kimber’s light pubic hair. Kimber could tell DeWanda liked this even better than cheese puffs.
DeWanda accessed every point of pussy that her strong and long tongue could reach. Then she repeated the tour again and again. Kimber’s first orgasm did not stop the oral pleasuring.
There was plenty of the day left!
After three orgasms Kimber felt sexually wrecked. But she had to get it together. It was important. DeWanda needed Kimber on her knees returning the favor.
Kimber thought cheese puffs definitely tasted better than DeWanda’s pussy and yet, somehow, she preferred DeWanda’s pussy. It was an exotic taboo delicacy that she didn’t think she could ever get tired of.
That was good because DeWanda explained how things were going to be from then on. It turned out Kimber’s life had a whole new direction. Very unexpected!
It sounded like DeWanda didn’t even usually eat pussy but would expect Kimber to eat her own something like ten times a day. And also her ass! Kimber had never done that and never thought she would but she just bet there were going to be a lot of things like that in her future with DeWanda.
Kimber had just met her but she felt totally controlled by DeWanda to the point she could not imagine walking away from what DeWanda had to offer.
Actually, it sounded like DeWanda would not let her if she tried. Well, it was a good thing she had no intention to try!
Those orgasms had really sold her on “black” and “older” and “lesbian”. Hers and DeWanda’s. It was weird but she almost preferred DeWanda’s orgasms, gushing into her mouth, than having her own.
As Kimber worked to please, her new pastime, her new life, DeWanda told her a few surprising things.
It turned out DeWanda was already registered to vote and always made a point of voting.
It turned out DeWanda guessed correctly that Kimber intended to vote for Walter Mitchell. Kimber wasn’t supposed to tell but DeWanda had her doing all sorts of things she wasn’t supposed to do. In fact, Kimber confessed her voting intent in the middle of tongue fucking DeWanda’s ass.
You had to answer your Mistress’s questions right away whenever you heard them, even if you had to pull your tongue out of ass to do it. Oh, that’s right, DeWanda was also her Mistress. Maybe that was another surprising thing or maybe not by then.
Kimber figured it out an instant before DeWanda told her the next part. Kimber had just become a sex slave! Holy Stuffed Rabbits!
Maybe that wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Kind of like DeWanda’s pussy. Mr. Mitchell made it sound like slavery was good for America back then. Kimber could help it make a comeback. She just had never thought she’d be a slave. She guessed sexual slavery, like the Spanish Inquisition, was something the slave never expected until it happened.
Probably the biggest surprise was that DeWanda insisted that Kimber would take time out the next day from serving her pussy in order to go vote. Maybe that was the biggest surprise or maybe it was the news that Kimber would be voting for Walter Mitchell’s mayoral opponent, Mrs. Smythe, the African-American candidate.
DeWanda said, between moans inspired by Kimber’s agile energetically working mouth, “You talked about all that voter suppression and I thought about that. I thought I’d leave you here in cuffs all day tomorrow and let you serve any of my friends who come back from voting my way. See, I’m all for voting. Instead, I thought that’s a waste of a perfectly good vote. So you gonna go and vote the way I say. Don’t you worry, you still gonna serve up yourself to my friends as a re-ward.”
Kimber didn’t think she would do as DeWanda wanted. Force her into lesbian sex, dominate her, humiliate her, make her eat ass, hey, whatever. But make her vote against her idol? No way!
Kimber didn’t think she would. Not at first. She wasn’t sure, but she thought maybe her mind was totally and permanently changed into accepting that she would. All while she ate the ass of DeWanda’s friend while another of DeWanda’s lesbian neighbors pounded her pussy with an incredibly large dildo. The size of Kimber’s orgasm matched the massive size of that dildo!
Fine! She’d vote for Mrs. Smythe!
