Speck

My name is Elaine Mitchell, but because of my red hair, fair skin, and freckles I’ve been called Speck since grade school. Some loud-mouth boy called me that one day on the playground and it stuck ever since. My deceased husband was the only person, except my parents, who called me Elaine. I’m twenty-six years old. In spite of my freckles most men think I’m pretty. More

My name is Elaine Mitchell, but because of my red hair, fair skin, and freckles I’ve been called Speck since grade school. Some loud-mouth boy called me that one day on the playground and it stuck ever since. My deceased husband was the only person, except my parents, who called me Elaine. I’m twenty-six years old. In spite of my freckles most men think I’m pretty. I’m also in a small package only being five feet four inches tall.

The room was small. Maybe ten feet by seven feet. Just enough room for the bed, a small table, and one straight chair. There was a small closet to hang my street clothes. On the table was a variety of packaged condoms. There was also a small bathroom with a shower. Also in the bathroom was a cabinet which held mouthwash, toothbrush, soap, wash cloths, fleet enemas, and douches. A plug-in deodorizer and the spray did little to overcome the scent of raw sex.

The small cramped room was a perfect whore’s cubby. I spent a lot of my time on the bed in that room or one of the others just like it. Come on boys. Three holes and no waiting.

Yes, folks, I'm a black man's white whore - and loving it!

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