by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 73
I dropped my bra off to the side. Vance reloaded and started shooting. The scrawny guy told me to move here and there. He had no idea what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. It was the little game I liked.
Ever since I had been a girl in the south of France where I walked the beach topless I realized I had this deep exhibitionist streak in me. I liked all the staring. I liked being an object. I liked my ripeness exposed. I liked the heat that rose in me.
I never missed a day to go down to the beach, and mother would come and she never said a word because it was France. And father would walk with his ripe topless little girl on the beach and he never said a word because it was France, so everybody could get to see my ripe tits and it was okay. But back home it was a no-no. Back home I was a bad girl if I did that.
Years later Little John picked me up in Central Park and took me to a world that I knew I’d never want to leave. I still wait for him to call me, but he scrawny guy was the first guy I had met since Little John that reminded me of him.
Vance ran out of film and ran home to get some more. The kid now had his opportunity. “Get up.” “Why?” “We’re taking a walk.” “What about Vance?” “What about him?”
I got up and started to get dressed but the kid said, “Stay as you are.” I dropped my bra and t-shirt. As I stood up he approached me. “You have an incredible body.” He was staring at my big sloping tits. “You have good legs.” I let him stare. “And your eyes. You have nice eyes.” Without even asking he reached out and touched my breast.
He filled his hand and rubbed my nipple with his thumb. “Real nice…Come on.” He took my hand and I followed him. He wanted me on the beach so everyone could see his prize. I said, “I’m wearing panties. Maybe I should change into a swim suit.” “Don’t bother. Stay as you are.” “What about Vance?” The kid laughed, “What about him.”
Soon the dune was far off and we were lost in the crowd at Moses Beach. All the guys without girls licked their chops, envious of the kid’s prize. I can’t tell you how much I like being a prize, being owned, being a little tramp. But the guy has to know how to do it. He has to have something I can’t explain before he can own me. Scrawny had it in spades and he was the first white guy that had ever handled me in that way.
As the thought passed my head I saw Reginald, the black guy who fucked me all last summer. He was with a white girl, a blonde. He always thought the best white girls were blonde. That is until he couldn’t stop getting enough of my white pussy. Reginald came over and said hello. As we spoke the kid showed his age by interrupting and saying that we had to go. Reginald ignored the kid. He let him know I wasn’t going anywhere until he was done with me.
When we were alone again, the kid asked, “Who’s the black guy.” I told him point blank, “One of my x lovers.” That hit the kid hard. “You’ve slept with black guys?” I said, “That’s all I sleep with.” The kid let go of my hand. Suddenly the man went out of him. Just when I thought he was the kind of white guy I’d like fucking me.
But he recovered and said, “I guess there’s a lot I don’t know.” I liked that. He gave me a slap on my bottom then a nice squeeze and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Like we were getting to know each other all over again.