White Lines by Tracy Brown Page A

restlessness, her silly face, her drowsy half smiles. He watched her tripping, waiting for the right time. All of a sudden she started rubbing her arms rapidly, as if she was trying to warm herself.
    “What’s the matter, Jada? You cold?” he asked. “Let me help you out, sweetheart.”
    She was twitching and laughing to herself. Then she started looking to either side of herself, picking at her shirt unnecessarily. But she was calm enough, in Charlie’s opinion. He inched closer to her, and sat beside her on the couch. “Let me warm you up.” Jada didn’t protest when he touched her.
    She rocked back and forth, twisting a long strand of hair and staring blankly at Charlie. She wasn’t seeing him, though. Jada was some place far off in her mind. She looked around, trying to see the cloud on which the room appeared to be floating. She felt herself drifting, felt the whole world spinning, and she smiled. Her eyelids squinted, Jada hazily watched his hands come closer.
    Charlie pulled her sweater up so slowly that Jada almost didn’t notice. She felt it all in slow motion and felt the air on her body as he sat back and looked at her black lace bra. Charlie unleashed her breasts and he stroked them. He seemed to know just how to make a woman melt, because Jada had never been caressed like that before. She smiled wider at the sensation, at the man stroking her perfectly. By her smile, he was encouraged. It seemed like every nerve in her body felt every sensation in the atmosphere at the same time. She felt a breeze across her skin, and her hairs stood on end. She felt his hands on her body, and was convinced that nothing felt better than what Charlie was doing to her at that moment.
    “Ain’t this alright, Jada?” His breath felt warm against her face, and sent a tingle up her spine. She nodded, as he watched her facial expressions change. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s alright.”
    Jada nodded, foggily. Then she was laughing, and moving around to a rhythm only she could feel. She nodded so slowly, her head rolling to the rhythm of Charlie’s fingertips. He licked and sucked her breasts, with his hands up her tiny skirt. Jada exhaled loudly.
    Jada was dancing in her head, still twitchy and jumpy. But what his fingers were doing to her pussy was spellbinding. “Yeah.” He said it again. “It’s alright.” As crazy as it was, Jada fantasized that she was in control. She still would not admit that crack had her by the throat. Instead she watched him, smiling and thinking,
Look at this old muthafucka licking me. He knows he wants me and not my mother.
Charlie worked magic with his tongue. He toyed with her young pearl and didn’t stop until she bubbled over with pleasure. Jada was spent, having just loudly achieved the first orgasm of her life at the age of seventeen.
    Charlie sat back and calmly stared at Jada’s young body. She sat in the same position he had left her, her leg propped up on the arm of the couch to reveal all of her goodies. Her bra was pulled up over her breasts; her sweater was bunched up as well. She sat there, high as ever, naked before Mr. Charlie.
    He stood up and pulled down his pants. He looked at her, half naked and high, and smiled as he put himself inside the tightness of her young walls.
    “Yeah,” he moaned in her ear, over and over.
    Jada pulled back from him, as if uncomfortable. The thought of resisting him registered somewhere in the corner of her mind. But Charlie held her gently, and said, “It’s alright.” He held her thighs open, and she was still jumpy, but moaning. He stroked her slowly, enjoying each and every thrust. Jada didn’t protest, and she smiled, enjoying her high and the ride Mr. Charlie was taking her on. He knew he had her now. He stroked her until his old penis couldn’t hold out any longer. Charlie had sense enough to pull himself out and spill his seed on her stomach. Afterward, he sat beside her and caught his breath, his dick lying limp across his