The Fam i l y BBC
by DiscipleN
Chapter 1
George, my husband, asked for a divorce. I wasn't able to hear him. I was yelling at Ridley. "You stole your sister's shoes? They don't even fit you?"
"He sniffs them, Mom. I think he gets off on them."
"Hey, I don't do anything to them!" My son shook both of the narrow, canvas shoes at Peg his sister. "Mom! She acts so goody-goody but she torments me when you and *** have a date night."
"I do not - unless you cross me first!" Peg eyes trembled at me. "He's lying!" She plainly lied. She was fourteen. Ridley was thirteen. George and I had planned them to be close in age, so they would get along. My womb served them up on schedule, but there was no joy in the Fairchild ******. Our children had fought over which tit to drink from, before they'd said their first word.
Instead of Mommy or Daddy, she spat her first word at her brother, "Dummy!" A few weeks later, he called her, "Baybee," Mangling and drawing out the word.
George and I had to pry them apart several times a week. That was the scope of our joy of parenting - for fourteen and thirteen exhausting years. George ran out of joy first. "Leen! I said I can't take this marriage anymore!"
I'm Colleen, but what used to be a charming nickname had become a bitter sound that scraped my ears! I turned from our terrible teens and calmed into utter coldness. "Oh, no, George Fairchild. I took your name. I promised to love and care for you. It may have been a two hundred dollar ring and the ceremony was in your parents' backyard, but it meant something to me! You don't get to back out until I kick you out."
He instantly got defensive. "My folks backyard is a freaking National Forest!"
"Then I guess it was just our luck that the Forest Service leased the property to the local paper mill, a week before our wedding. The ground was covered in dying branches, except for the hundreds of holes where trees used to be!"
"Don't you take crap from her, Daddy!" Peg encouraged. "She probably pretends to have orgasms."
"Shut up, you teen witch!" Ridley barked at his sister.
I wanted to run from the room and cry, but I didn't have the energy. I trudged past my suffering husband. Peg said something stupid to Ridley. I rounded the corner to the front entryway when I hear my husband sigh. I plucked my keys from the hook and barely remembered my purse. Our children kept yammering at each other.
I was careful to the lock the door behind me. Reaching our old Volvo, I slunk into the driver's seat and let the dam break.
The drive to the shoreline is lost to me. I cut the engine in the park's lot and resumed crying. George and I had decent jobs, a failing marriage, and two psychopathic children. I rolled down the window to catch the ocean breeze. It stank of dying fish and decaying seaweed.
You ran away again. My mind scolded me. You yelled at your husband and ran away. I rebutted myself. Only because he didn't run away first. George had actually stood up for himself. Right in the middle of a normal fight between our kids, he'd stood his ground and declared he wanted a divorce.
Well, I wanted one too, but the numerous complications which arise when a married couple with children contemplate divorce are like a landslide on your soul. I had to pull a fresh tissue from my purse, but when I blew my nose, it escaped my trembling fingers and flew out of the window! Snot soiled empty hands.
"Hey, Lady! Don't be throwing garbage out of your car." A deep voice scolded.
I looked up from my grossly coated hands and looked across the parking lot. A grey haired, black man glared back at me. "Pick that up, Lady. I don't care if you have to chase it into the ocean and drown. I may be down on my luck, but I put my trash in a can."
"I-I'm sorry. The wind-" I started, but the large man's eyes held no mercy. I unlocked the door with gooey hands and climbed out. The tissue had caught in a small bush, fortunately. I stumbled over to it and bent down. He strode up to me like a park ranger. Seeing me shrink from his imposing presence, he grinned an awful grin. "Nice tits, Lady."
"Hey!" I grabbed the neckline of my top. Snot soaked into the frayed cotton. The blouse was old, and I only wore it around the house. The top button had popped off long ago, but I never found the right time to affix the spare. I did pluck the tissue from the bush, but a little piece tore off. I straightened. Where was the trash can? I looked around. I managed to wipe a little goo off of my hand.
"You didn't get it all."
I faced him. "I will. I just need a moment." That first moment I spent sizing up the bold man. He was tall, maybe six feet something, taller than George, wider too. He claimed to be down on his luck, but his clothes were clean enough for a walk along the shoreline. The stench of the shoreline masked whatever he smelled like. I thought he had been muscular once, but his arms and legs were puffy. He wasn't very fat. His tummy bulged somewhat though. His gray, kinked hair was balding. I guessed he was in his early fifties. I was forty three, and I wished my skin was as smooth as his which was black like milk chocolate. Mine might have been peach, but stress made it look whiter.
"You've been crying." He observed.
"Leave me alone. I'll get the damn shard." I bent down. A large hand grabbed my right elbow.
"Let me look at you." He threatened. At least I took it as a threat. His voice remained strong without anger.
"Let me go." I asked.
"First tell me why you were crying. I got all day." His hand loosened a little but George wouldn't have had strength enough to escape the black man's grip.
I wanted to tell him off, but I had no strength in my heart. "My husband wants a divorce."
"Tell him no." He replied instantly, firmly.
"Please let go of me."
His eyes flashed at me. His hand opened. "Stay right there."
I didn't dare budge.
He bent down and combed the shard of tissue off the bush. He ground it in his hand and put it in his mouth. He stood while chewing on it. "You got any food?"
"No. Do you want the money in my purse?" I hoped that by offering cash, he might take it and go."
"Yeah, but I want to talk more. This way." He started walking to the trash can. I fell in behind him.
Reaching the can, he opened the lid. I dropped the soiled tissue within, and he covered it. He hadn't said anything. Turning around, he walked to my car. "How long you been married?"
"Seventeen years."
"Got kids?"
I couldn't tell him that. "No."
He halted and spun around. "Let me check." His paws tugged the top of my blouse open without ripping it. "Just a sec." He reached in, and with incredible dexterity for the size of his fingers, he unfastened the front clasp of my bra.
"Hey! I'll scream."
"You got nothing to scream about. I'm just checking." His meaty fingers hefted both of my somewhat sagging breasts. "If you do scream, I'll act all innocent and everyone will think you're a fucking Karen."
I sputtered a nothing word.
"I thought so." He pulled his hand out of my blouse and frowned. "Those had milk in them, lots of it."
I kept silent, ducking my head.
"I don't care about your fool kids, Lady. My first wife and I were married for a couple years. She got preg and left me because I was no daddy material." He continued to the car and opened the driver's door. "Gimme the keys."
"You're taking my car?"
"No. I'm driving us out of this shit-hole park." He climbed in and stared at me.
"They're in the ignition." I felt worse and worse about my fate, but for some insane reason, I kept letting this stranger make decisions for me.
"Get in." He tilted his head towards the seat beside him.
I turned to go around to the opposite door. He leaned out and caught my belt. "Not that way. Crawl over me."
"I don't want to do that."
He shrugged and tugged, causing me to stumble into the open doorway. "Now duck down and crawl over my lap."
I looked around. The park wasn't empty, but everyone was at the shore, not dawdling in the parking lot. If I was going to scream, now was the last chance I might ever get. I bent my head and shrunk my shoulders together. He leaned back and let go of my belt as I placed my hands on his left thigh and ducked into the cabin. I reached forward and lifted a knee, taking my first step with it onto his thigh.
He grabbed me by the seat of my britches and hauled me to his right. I collapsed across his lap, feet flailing outside. My thighs landed on his right thigh. "Hey!"
"Hey you, Lady. Hold still. Gotta make sure you didn't break anything." I felt his hands reach under my thighs. He grunted once, and it felt like he was tugging on his trousers. "It's okay." He pulled his hands out from under me.
My right thigh felt something stiff poking from his groin! "Eww!" I screeched and scrambled over his now tented lap. When I could swivel my feet into the well, I considered opening the door on my side and fleeing!
He grunted a laugh and switched on the engine and closed his door with a thunk! "Put your belt on, Lady." He grabbed his seatbelt from over his left shoulder and extended it to the latch. "We don't want to get pulled over." Gunning the engine leapt the car into reverse but without the tires squealing. He spun the wheel, backing out of the space. Then we shot forward. I was still fumbling to put the belt in its latch. Click!
He kept to a slow speed appropriate for driving out of the park. My heart was racing! "Where are you taking me?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"Home?"
"Not right away. You're not ready for that."
"Please. You can take the car."
"Now what kind of fool do you think I am? I keep shy of the law. I may be just another nigger to you, but people know me at that park."
I complained. "I don't even think that word!" Finally, I had something to stand up to him about.
We officially left the park, passing the shunted nighttime barrier. "How about a hotel? You got a good credit card?"
"I don't want -- that." He understood my pause.
"Yeah, well you damn well know I do."
"This is kidnapping, please-"
"What? Don't make it worse?" He snorted. "I ain't gonna **** you, Lady. We can do it in the back seat, if you can't afford a hotel. I know a alley not far from here. It's real private."
"Just stop the car and let me out!" I begged.
"Now what kind of good is that gonna do you?" He scolded. "Now, I am not saying that a good fuck will fix your life, or even pull you from your misery much, but it won't hurt, and I want compensation for helping you."
"How are you helping me?"
He shook his head and made a "TCH" sound.
"I won't." I cringed while trying to muster defiance.
He made the sound again.
"Shade Palm Motel" The rusted sign said. Green letters stained a mottled, white sign. He parked in a spot next to the office. The place maybe had a dozen rooms, five rooms on the ground floor, seven above. There were two other cars in the lot. One was a beat up brown truck. The second was a Chevy Bolt glistening with smugness.
He handed my purse to me. "Take out your card and license. Get a second floor room. Call the cops if you want."
Numb, I exited my car and walked like a zombie. This was my chance to escape a ******! It was just that he didn't act like any ****** I ever read about or saw on a show, not even pornos.
The door shook but didn't open until I heard and felt it buzz. Then it swung inward! I nearly fell.
"You want a room?" An Asian man sat behind a thick pane of plastic. There was a cutout for passing cards or money.
"There's a man in my car." I babbled. "He kidnapped me."
The man's slightly oval eyes widened. "You don't look it."
"Can I use your phone?" Mine was in my purse with the old stranger.
"House phone. Two dollars. Two minutes - no more." He pushed a handset through the cutout. "I'll dial."
It was in my purse. I wanted to cry again. I had to sink to my knees so the handset could reach my head. "875-555-3-" It was George's number.
Of course, the unfamiliar motel number was sent straight to voicemail. "George, I'm not going to divorce you." I handed the phone back through the cutout, along with my credit card and license. I told the clerk, "Second floor." I tried to sound as uncompromising as the aging black man in my car.
I signed something and took the key, an actual key dangling from green plastic fob #23, back to my car. I stood in front of the dented grill, staring into the windshield and fidgeting with the key.
The old man got out, locked the doors, and headed for the stairs. He had my keys and purse. I could only follow I told myself.
At door 23, He held out his hand. I gave him the cards and key. "I'm not taking a nap. If ya come inside, I'm gonna treat you right but for myself. Got that?"
He didn't wait for an answer. I'd either follow him or not. He went inside, threw the key on a counter, and dropped my purse and card at the foot of the queen sized bed therein. He began undressing.
I stood just outside the doorway, trembling.
He sneered and ignored me, pulling his shirt over his head and then unbuckling his belt. It was black leather, and the buckle was a gold plated steel loop. His trousers soon hit the floor. He stood in a thin undershirt and yellowed boxers. He was heavier than I imagined but not by much. His belly had maybe five extra inches on each side. "Like what you see?" He pulled down his boxers.
His cock was long, big long, but not huge like some porn stars. I'd seen big ones before in the flesh, some longer, some fatter. I never thought it much mattered. I'd had my early years of experimenting, taken knocks and learned from them. Cock size never mattered. George's quiet personality and occasional jokes had mattered. I liked his hugs, and he was a good lover. Soon he would be-
"Get in here, you silly woman." The naked black stranger told me.
I stepped inside, burning with shame. The door locked behind me.
"Take off that shirt. I like what I felt in the park."
My bra was still separated behind my blouse. I had registered for a motel room, flashing dark headlight before the clerk's eyes. Shame froze me except for my arms and hands. I slowly unbuttoned before the man's intense eyes.
Before the last two buttons parted their holes, the man stepped up and began fondling my naked tits. "Yeah, them's good sucking melons." He bent down and slurped in a brown nipple while he groped my other boob. His free hand worked at the clasp on my pants.
I pulled off my blouse and bra, letting them fall where they may. I started crying.
He ignored my trembling and quickly opened my pants, pushing them down my legs. Then he pulled me to the bed and sat me at the bottom edge. "Here's something you can do with your lazy hands." He grabbed one and wrapped it around his thick erection. The tip of my longest finger didn't meet my thumb.
He pulled off my shoes without unlacing them. I grunted each time. I held onto his prick. It was like a snake, hot to swallow me whole. Perhaps I could tame it by grasping it firmly. He groaned!
"Ain't nobody touched me in a couple years. Got too old for that kind of pity." He rose up and confronted me, eye to eye. "But my years taught me something about women."
I shrank back without releasing his pulsing boner. I was too afraid to. My fingers could feel his heart rate taking its time, like he was, confident in an easy score.
"I'm not a slut." I nearly cried again.
"Un-uh, Lady. You're better than that." He shifted his butt up the bed and hauled me with him until my calves rested on the bottom edge. My back fell across the mattress cover. His right hand resumed groping my tits.
"What does it matter? I can't fight you."
"You're what kids call a Free Use." He chuckled. "I knew it when you got out of your car to chase a damn Kleenex!"
"I'm not like that!" I complained. "It's just today, everything was so awful. Can't you see how awful what you're doing is?"
"Sheeeit." He snorted. His groping hand glided down to my pink panties. "Now what are we going to do about these?"
I closed my eyes. Tears squeezed out. "I don't care anymore."
"I figured you wouldn't." He used both hands to pull down my panties. I trim my bush usually. I hadn't in a couple weeks. Brown curls sprouted unevenly but not thickly.
He bent down to smell my sex. "Hmmm!" He delighted.
My fist was still rubbing up and down his large dick! The motion released its scent. My lips curled at the smell.
The man pulled my hand away and pushed me further up the bed. He lifted one knee at a time, fitting them between my thighs and spreading my legs. Soon he was kneeling between them. He jacked on his cock, aiming it at my face. "You want a suck?"
I shook my head. "Maybe there's a condom in the bathroom?" I hoped aloud. I had read some hotels provided them on the sly.
"Fuck, you really are a white woman out of paradise." He bent his dick down and pressed the plump head into my bush.
I could only shrink away and grimace, face red with shame.
I flinched when the fat tip pierced my vulva. He chuckled. "One thing you can rely on, Lady. I got no diseases. Like I said, I have fucked in years. And the state gives me cut-rate medical care."
His revelation did nothing to ease my anxiety. A stranger had taken me to a hotel and was about to stick his smelly dick into my body! Why wasn't I screaming?? I wished I was home and in George's arms. Except our fractious children lived there too. I had no place else but to lie on a bed under a down and out black stranger and his big cock. Tears dripped down my temples. They made me shiver.
The man paused his entry into my vagina, leaned forward, and slapped my face! SMACK! "Go ahead and cry when I'm not fucking you. Got it?"
I instantly sniffed back my tears and scrunched up my face. "You said you were going to treat me right."
"Lady, you got no idea what being treated badly is like." He hunched his hips forward and the thick head of his prick scraped into my cunt. I whimpered from the pain. He said. "I get it. You're not wet yet." He stopped forcing his cock into my unready hole.
"Please, Mister. I'm going to die of shame. Let me go." The three inches of hard prick, which he'd forced in and hurt my pussy with, had pinned me to the bed as securely as ropes or chains.
"Hhmmph." He snorted. His hips jiggled slightly back and forth, causing his dick to tug and push the first three inches into my dry cunt. "I told you I'm doing this for myself, you sorry ass, white submissive." He leaned down, hips still jiggling cock within my vag. He took my soft tits into his hands and pressed the nipples together. His mouth clamped over them, tongue flicking across them. His lips sucked, and his teeth scraped.
I writhed from the mixed sensations, irritation to partial pleasure. Pussy juices seeped from my loins and anointed my pseudo-******'s, fat intruder. His teasing, black pecker slid a little deeper.
"Noo." I whimpered.
"Yeah. Cunt's don't obey anything but the dick taking them." He pushed another inch into my slightly moist recess. It hurt less than his first thrust. I grunted unhappily.
"You'll get use to it." The aging stranger looked up from my reddened tits. "I like it tight. A little dryness feels good that way." He steadily pushed the remaining inches of his meaty prick into my slit. I complained with a sustained whine, his dry and filthy cock filling me, bumping my cervix and forcing it deeper while stretching my cunt longer! "nnngghhhh..."
The top of his prick rubbed the underside of my clit. Small spasms from it shook it's hood, and blood pooled into the awakening nub.
His hands left my tits and planted themselves sturdily into the mattress on each side of me. "You're gonna juice quicker and quicker, Lady. So I'm gonna get rough. Grit your teeth." He must have really liked his cunts partially dry. The prick filling my gorged pussy hauled back until the tip kept my weeping orifice open. Then he slammed his pecker all the way back in.
"OWW!" I yelped from the impact against my cervix! He simply pulled back and started swift, pounding strokes of his cock within my not quite dry cunt! I squealed unhappily at his painful thrusts.
"Fuck, I needed this!" He growled! "I don't care what color you are, Lady, but you got plenty of pussy for my hard peter!"
I think he was complimenting me on the depth of my twat. Slammed fully into me, pummeling my sensitive cervix, his entire shaft just fit inside. If he was a millimeter longer, his groin wouldn't have touched mine, or he would have ripped my cunt trying. His foul smelling crotch kept slamming into my partially groomed loins. I cried out from each thrust and double impact, as he ravaged me with passionate prick strokes.
I cringed beneath his heaving body, barely aware of the small spasms evoked from my engorging clit. I gritted my teeth, absorbing the shocks and pains from his raging pelvis!
"Gods, woman. I'm gonna- UUGGHHHHH!!!!" He shouted his release but kept fucking as his groin muscles clamped within and shot hot globs of semen into my cunt!
His continuing ejaculate was greeted by waves of pussy lube arriving too late to save me from a lot of pain. Cum and cunt juice combined to ease the slowing but not stopping prick filling me to the brim, again and again!
"HELLSS!!" He roared and fell fully upon my naked figure. We bounced heavily upon the mattress, forcing the air out of my lungs! The last of his cum splashed against my cervix, and he panted. A grin of yellowed teeth showed through his black lips. His breath smelled awful.
"Gonna catch my wind, now. Maybe we do it again. Ain't felt that good for years. Beating my meat got nothing on a pussy like yours." He lavished praise like I was a bitch dog.
I turned my head away, fresh tears seeping out, small sobs bumping against his partially grey chest hair.
"Heh! I didn't figure you'd kiss me. Maybe next time you'll cum." The man took a deep breath and twisted his body away to my right. His fat prick slopped out of me. Dribbles of our combined fluids soaked the covers. He landed onto his back. Peeking down, I saw the arch of his glistening penis. I couldn't believe how even that softer version could have fit fully into my vagina. I shivered at the thought of him having cleaned his cock with my insides.
I crept off of the bed as he lay catching his breath. I stood and shuffled towards the bathroom. His eyes followed. I resisted looking at him, but I could feel his black irises tracking my every move. When I was closing the door, he said. "Don't use all the hot water."
...to be continued...
by DiscipleN
Chapter 1
George, my husband, asked for a divorce. I wasn't able to hear him. I was yelling at Ridley. "You stole your sister's shoes? They don't even fit you?""He sniffs them, Mom. I think he gets off on them."
"Hey, I don't do anything to them!" My son shook both of the narrow, canvas shoes at Peg his sister. "Mom! She acts so goody-goody but she torments me when you and *** have a date night."
"I do not - unless you cross me first!" Peg eyes trembled at me. "He's lying!" She plainly lied. She was fourteen. Ridley was thirteen. George and I had planned them to be close in age, so they would get along. My womb served them up on schedule, but there was no joy in the Fairchild ******. Our children had fought over which tit to drink from, before they'd said their first word.
Instead of Mommy or Daddy, she spat her first word at her brother, "Dummy!" A few weeks later, he called her, "Baybee," Mangling and drawing out the word.
George and I had to pry them apart several times a week. That was the scope of our joy of parenting - for fourteen and thirteen exhausting years. George ran out of joy first. "Leen! I said I can't take this marriage anymore!"
I'm Colleen, but what used to be a charming nickname had become a bitter sound that scraped my ears! I turned from our terrible teens and calmed into utter coldness. "Oh, no, George Fairchild. I took your name. I promised to love and care for you. It may have been a two hundred dollar ring and the ceremony was in your parents' backyard, but it meant something to me! You don't get to back out until I kick you out."
He instantly got defensive. "My folks backyard is a freaking National Forest!"
"Then I guess it was just our luck that the Forest Service leased the property to the local paper mill, a week before our wedding. The ground was covered in dying branches, except for the hundreds of holes where trees used to be!"
"Don't you take crap from her, Daddy!" Peg encouraged. "She probably pretends to have orgasms."
"Shut up, you teen witch!" Ridley barked at his sister.
I wanted to run from the room and cry, but I didn't have the energy. I trudged past my suffering husband. Peg said something stupid to Ridley. I rounded the corner to the front entryway when I hear my husband sigh. I plucked my keys from the hook and barely remembered my purse. Our children kept yammering at each other.
I was careful to the lock the door behind me. Reaching our old Volvo, I slunk into the driver's seat and let the dam break.
The drive to the shoreline is lost to me. I cut the engine in the park's lot and resumed crying. George and I had decent jobs, a failing marriage, and two psychopathic children. I rolled down the window to catch the ocean breeze. It stank of dying fish and decaying seaweed.
You ran away again. My mind scolded me. You yelled at your husband and ran away. I rebutted myself. Only because he didn't run away first. George had actually stood up for himself. Right in the middle of a normal fight between our kids, he'd stood his ground and declared he wanted a divorce.
Well, I wanted one too, but the numerous complications which arise when a married couple with children contemplate divorce are like a landslide on your soul. I had to pull a fresh tissue from my purse, but when I blew my nose, it escaped my trembling fingers and flew out of the window! Snot soiled empty hands.
"Hey, Lady! Don't be throwing garbage out of your car." A deep voice scolded.
I looked up from my grossly coated hands and looked across the parking lot. A grey haired, black man glared back at me. "Pick that up, Lady. I don't care if you have to chase it into the ocean and drown. I may be down on my luck, but I put my trash in a can."
"I-I'm sorry. The wind-" I started, but the large man's eyes held no mercy. I unlocked the door with gooey hands and climbed out. The tissue had caught in a small bush, fortunately. I stumbled over to it and bent down. He strode up to me like a park ranger. Seeing me shrink from his imposing presence, he grinned an awful grin. "Nice tits, Lady."
"Hey!" I grabbed the neckline of my top. Snot soaked into the frayed cotton. The blouse was old, and I only wore it around the house. The top button had popped off long ago, but I never found the right time to affix the spare. I did pluck the tissue from the bush, but a little piece tore off. I straightened. Where was the trash can? I looked around. I managed to wipe a little goo off of my hand.
"You didn't get it all."
I faced him. "I will. I just need a moment." That first moment I spent sizing up the bold man. He was tall, maybe six feet something, taller than George, wider too. He claimed to be down on his luck, but his clothes were clean enough for a walk along the shoreline. The stench of the shoreline masked whatever he smelled like. I thought he had been muscular once, but his arms and legs were puffy. He wasn't very fat. His tummy bulged somewhat though. His gray, kinked hair was balding. I guessed he was in his early fifties. I was forty three, and I wished my skin was as smooth as his which was black like milk chocolate. Mine might have been peach, but stress made it look whiter.
"You've been crying." He observed.
"Leave me alone. I'll get the damn shard." I bent down. A large hand grabbed my right elbow.
"Let me look at you." He threatened. At least I took it as a threat. His voice remained strong without anger.
"Let me go." I asked.
"First tell me why you were crying. I got all day." His hand loosened a little but George wouldn't have had strength enough to escape the black man's grip.
I wanted to tell him off, but I had no strength in my heart. "My husband wants a divorce."
"Tell him no." He replied instantly, firmly.
"Please let go of me."
His eyes flashed at me. His hand opened. "Stay right there."
I didn't dare budge.
He bent down and combed the shard of tissue off the bush. He ground it in his hand and put it in his mouth. He stood while chewing on it. "You got any food?"
"No. Do you want the money in my purse?" I hoped that by offering cash, he might take it and go."
"Yeah, but I want to talk more. This way." He started walking to the trash can. I fell in behind him.
Reaching the can, he opened the lid. I dropped the soiled tissue within, and he covered it. He hadn't said anything. Turning around, he walked to my car. "How long you been married?"
"Seventeen years."
"Got kids?"
I couldn't tell him that. "No."
He halted and spun around. "Let me check." His paws tugged the top of my blouse open without ripping it. "Just a sec." He reached in, and with incredible dexterity for the size of his fingers, he unfastened the front clasp of my bra.
"Hey! I'll scream."
"You got nothing to scream about. I'm just checking." His meaty fingers hefted both of my somewhat sagging breasts. "If you do scream, I'll act all innocent and everyone will think you're a fucking Karen."
I sputtered a nothing word.
"I thought so." He pulled his hand out of my blouse and frowned. "Those had milk in them, lots of it."
I kept silent, ducking my head.
"I don't care about your fool kids, Lady. My first wife and I were married for a couple years. She got preg and left me because I was no daddy material." He continued to the car and opened the driver's door. "Gimme the keys."
"You're taking my car?"
"No. I'm driving us out of this shit-hole park." He climbed in and stared at me.
"They're in the ignition." I felt worse and worse about my fate, but for some insane reason, I kept letting this stranger make decisions for me.
"Get in." He tilted his head towards the seat beside him.
I turned to go around to the opposite door. He leaned out and caught my belt. "Not that way. Crawl over me."
"I don't want to do that."
He shrugged and tugged, causing me to stumble into the open doorway. "Now duck down and crawl over my lap."
I looked around. The park wasn't empty, but everyone was at the shore, not dawdling in the parking lot. If I was going to scream, now was the last chance I might ever get. I bent my head and shrunk my shoulders together. He leaned back and let go of my belt as I placed my hands on his left thigh and ducked into the cabin. I reached forward and lifted a knee, taking my first step with it onto his thigh.
He grabbed me by the seat of my britches and hauled me to his right. I collapsed across his lap, feet flailing outside. My thighs landed on his right thigh. "Hey!"
"Hey you, Lady. Hold still. Gotta make sure you didn't break anything." I felt his hands reach under my thighs. He grunted once, and it felt like he was tugging on his trousers. "It's okay." He pulled his hands out from under me.
My right thigh felt something stiff poking from his groin! "Eww!" I screeched and scrambled over his now tented lap. When I could swivel my feet into the well, I considered opening the door on my side and fleeing!
He grunted a laugh and switched on the engine and closed his door with a thunk! "Put your belt on, Lady." He grabbed his seatbelt from over his left shoulder and extended it to the latch. "We don't want to get pulled over." Gunning the engine leapt the car into reverse but without the tires squealing. He spun the wheel, backing out of the space. Then we shot forward. I was still fumbling to put the belt in its latch. Click!
He kept to a slow speed appropriate for driving out of the park. My heart was racing! "Where are you taking me?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"Home?"
"Not right away. You're not ready for that."
"Please. You can take the car."
"Now what kind of fool do you think I am? I keep shy of the law. I may be just another nigger to you, but people know me at that park."
I complained. "I don't even think that word!" Finally, I had something to stand up to him about.
We officially left the park, passing the shunted nighttime barrier. "How about a hotel? You got a good credit card?"
"I don't want -- that." He understood my pause.
"Yeah, well you damn well know I do."
"This is kidnapping, please-"
"What? Don't make it worse?" He snorted. "I ain't gonna **** you, Lady. We can do it in the back seat, if you can't afford a hotel. I know a alley not far from here. It's real private."
"Just stop the car and let me out!" I begged.
"Now what kind of good is that gonna do you?" He scolded. "Now, I am not saying that a good fuck will fix your life, or even pull you from your misery much, but it won't hurt, and I want compensation for helping you."
"How are you helping me?"
He shook his head and made a "TCH" sound.
"I won't." I cringed while trying to muster defiance.
He made the sound again.
"Shade Palm Motel" The rusted sign said. Green letters stained a mottled, white sign. He parked in a spot next to the office. The place maybe had a dozen rooms, five rooms on the ground floor, seven above. There were two other cars in the lot. One was a beat up brown truck. The second was a Chevy Bolt glistening with smugness.
He handed my purse to me. "Take out your card and license. Get a second floor room. Call the cops if you want."
Numb, I exited my car and walked like a zombie. This was my chance to escape a ******! It was just that he didn't act like any ****** I ever read about or saw on a show, not even pornos.
The door shook but didn't open until I heard and felt it buzz. Then it swung inward! I nearly fell.
"You want a room?" An Asian man sat behind a thick pane of plastic. There was a cutout for passing cards or money.
"There's a man in my car." I babbled. "He kidnapped me."
The man's slightly oval eyes widened. "You don't look it."
"Can I use your phone?" Mine was in my purse with the old stranger.
"House phone. Two dollars. Two minutes - no more." He pushed a handset through the cutout. "I'll dial."
It was in my purse. I wanted to cry again. I had to sink to my knees so the handset could reach my head. "875-555-3-" It was George's number.
Of course, the unfamiliar motel number was sent straight to voicemail. "George, I'm not going to divorce you." I handed the phone back through the cutout, along with my credit card and license. I told the clerk, "Second floor." I tried to sound as uncompromising as the aging black man in my car.
I signed something and took the key, an actual key dangling from green plastic fob #23, back to my car. I stood in front of the dented grill, staring into the windshield and fidgeting with the key.
The old man got out, locked the doors, and headed for the stairs. He had my keys and purse. I could only follow I told myself.
At door 23, He held out his hand. I gave him the cards and key. "I'm not taking a nap. If ya come inside, I'm gonna treat you right but for myself. Got that?"
He didn't wait for an answer. I'd either follow him or not. He went inside, threw the key on a counter, and dropped my purse and card at the foot of the queen sized bed therein. He began undressing.
I stood just outside the doorway, trembling.
He sneered and ignored me, pulling his shirt over his head and then unbuckling his belt. It was black leather, and the buckle was a gold plated steel loop. His trousers soon hit the floor. He stood in a thin undershirt and yellowed boxers. He was heavier than I imagined but not by much. His belly had maybe five extra inches on each side. "Like what you see?" He pulled down his boxers.
His cock was long, big long, but not huge like some porn stars. I'd seen big ones before in the flesh, some longer, some fatter. I never thought it much mattered. I'd had my early years of experimenting, taken knocks and learned from them. Cock size never mattered. George's quiet personality and occasional jokes had mattered. I liked his hugs, and he was a good lover. Soon he would be-
"Get in here, you silly woman." The naked black stranger told me.
I stepped inside, burning with shame. The door locked behind me.
"Take off that shirt. I like what I felt in the park."
My bra was still separated behind my blouse. I had registered for a motel room, flashing dark headlight before the clerk's eyes. Shame froze me except for my arms and hands. I slowly unbuttoned before the man's intense eyes.
Before the last two buttons parted their holes, the man stepped up and began fondling my naked tits. "Yeah, them's good sucking melons." He bent down and slurped in a brown nipple while he groped my other boob. His free hand worked at the clasp on my pants.
I pulled off my blouse and bra, letting them fall where they may. I started crying.
He ignored my trembling and quickly opened my pants, pushing them down my legs. Then he pulled me to the bed and sat me at the bottom edge. "Here's something you can do with your lazy hands." He grabbed one and wrapped it around his thick erection. The tip of my longest finger didn't meet my thumb.
He pulled off my shoes without unlacing them. I grunted each time. I held onto his prick. It was like a snake, hot to swallow me whole. Perhaps I could tame it by grasping it firmly. He groaned!
"Ain't nobody touched me in a couple years. Got too old for that kind of pity." He rose up and confronted me, eye to eye. "But my years taught me something about women."
I shrank back without releasing his pulsing boner. I was too afraid to. My fingers could feel his heart rate taking its time, like he was, confident in an easy score.
"I'm not a slut." I nearly cried again.
"Un-uh, Lady. You're better than that." He shifted his butt up the bed and hauled me with him until my calves rested on the bottom edge. My back fell across the mattress cover. His right hand resumed groping my tits.
"What does it matter? I can't fight you."
"You're what kids call a Free Use." He chuckled. "I knew it when you got out of your car to chase a damn Kleenex!"
"I'm not like that!" I complained. "It's just today, everything was so awful. Can't you see how awful what you're doing is?"
"Sheeeit." He snorted. His groping hand glided down to my pink panties. "Now what are we going to do about these?"
I closed my eyes. Tears squeezed out. "I don't care anymore."
"I figured you wouldn't." He used both hands to pull down my panties. I trim my bush usually. I hadn't in a couple weeks. Brown curls sprouted unevenly but not thickly.
He bent down to smell my sex. "Hmmm!" He delighted.
My fist was still rubbing up and down his large dick! The motion released its scent. My lips curled at the smell.
The man pulled my hand away and pushed me further up the bed. He lifted one knee at a time, fitting them between my thighs and spreading my legs. Soon he was kneeling between them. He jacked on his cock, aiming it at my face. "You want a suck?"
I shook my head. "Maybe there's a condom in the bathroom?" I hoped aloud. I had read some hotels provided them on the sly.
"Fuck, you really are a white woman out of paradise." He bent his dick down and pressed the plump head into my bush.
I could only shrink away and grimace, face red with shame.
I flinched when the fat tip pierced my vulva. He chuckled. "One thing you can rely on, Lady. I got no diseases. Like I said, I have fucked in years. And the state gives me cut-rate medical care."
His revelation did nothing to ease my anxiety. A stranger had taken me to a hotel and was about to stick his smelly dick into my body! Why wasn't I screaming?? I wished I was home and in George's arms. Except our fractious children lived there too. I had no place else but to lie on a bed under a down and out black stranger and his big cock. Tears dripped down my temples. They made me shiver.
The man paused his entry into my vagina, leaned forward, and slapped my face! SMACK! "Go ahead and cry when I'm not fucking you. Got it?"
I instantly sniffed back my tears and scrunched up my face. "You said you were going to treat me right."
"Lady, you got no idea what being treated badly is like." He hunched his hips forward and the thick head of his prick scraped into my cunt. I whimpered from the pain. He said. "I get it. You're not wet yet." He stopped forcing his cock into my unready hole.
"Please, Mister. I'm going to die of shame. Let me go." The three inches of hard prick, which he'd forced in and hurt my pussy with, had pinned me to the bed as securely as ropes or chains.
"Hhmmph." He snorted. His hips jiggled slightly back and forth, causing his dick to tug and push the first three inches into my dry cunt. "I told you I'm doing this for myself, you sorry ass, white submissive." He leaned down, hips still jiggling cock within my vag. He took my soft tits into his hands and pressed the nipples together. His mouth clamped over them, tongue flicking across them. His lips sucked, and his teeth scraped.
I writhed from the mixed sensations, irritation to partial pleasure. Pussy juices seeped from my loins and anointed my pseudo-******'s, fat intruder. His teasing, black pecker slid a little deeper.
"Noo." I whimpered.
"Yeah. Cunt's don't obey anything but the dick taking them." He pushed another inch into my slightly moist recess. It hurt less than his first thrust. I grunted unhappily.
"You'll get use to it." The aging stranger looked up from my reddened tits. "I like it tight. A little dryness feels good that way." He steadily pushed the remaining inches of his meaty prick into my slit. I complained with a sustained whine, his dry and filthy cock filling me, bumping my cervix and forcing it deeper while stretching my cunt longer! "nnngghhhh..."
The top of his prick rubbed the underside of my clit. Small spasms from it shook it's hood, and blood pooled into the awakening nub.
His hands left my tits and planted themselves sturdily into the mattress on each side of me. "You're gonna juice quicker and quicker, Lady. So I'm gonna get rough. Grit your teeth." He must have really liked his cunts partially dry. The prick filling my gorged pussy hauled back until the tip kept my weeping orifice open. Then he slammed his pecker all the way back in.
"OWW!" I yelped from the impact against my cervix! He simply pulled back and started swift, pounding strokes of his cock within my not quite dry cunt! I squealed unhappily at his painful thrusts.
"Fuck, I needed this!" He growled! "I don't care what color you are, Lady, but you got plenty of pussy for my hard peter!"
I think he was complimenting me on the depth of my twat. Slammed fully into me, pummeling my sensitive cervix, his entire shaft just fit inside. If he was a millimeter longer, his groin wouldn't have touched mine, or he would have ripped my cunt trying. His foul smelling crotch kept slamming into my partially groomed loins. I cried out from each thrust and double impact, as he ravaged me with passionate prick strokes.
I cringed beneath his heaving body, barely aware of the small spasms evoked from my engorging clit. I gritted my teeth, absorbing the shocks and pains from his raging pelvis!
"Gods, woman. I'm gonna- UUGGHHHHH!!!!" He shouted his release but kept fucking as his groin muscles clamped within and shot hot globs of semen into my cunt!
His continuing ejaculate was greeted by waves of pussy lube arriving too late to save me from a lot of pain. Cum and cunt juice combined to ease the slowing but not stopping prick filling me to the brim, again and again!
"HELLSS!!" He roared and fell fully upon my naked figure. We bounced heavily upon the mattress, forcing the air out of my lungs! The last of his cum splashed against my cervix, and he panted. A grin of yellowed teeth showed through his black lips. His breath smelled awful.
"Gonna catch my wind, now. Maybe we do it again. Ain't felt that good for years. Beating my meat got nothing on a pussy like yours." He lavished praise like I was a bitch dog.
I turned my head away, fresh tears seeping out, small sobs bumping against his partially grey chest hair.
"Heh! I didn't figure you'd kiss me. Maybe next time you'll cum." The man took a deep breath and twisted his body away to my right. His fat prick slopped out of me. Dribbles of our combined fluids soaked the covers. He landed onto his back. Peeking down, I saw the arch of his glistening penis. I couldn't believe how even that softer version could have fit fully into my vagina. I shivered at the thought of him having cleaned his cock with my insides.
I crept off of the bed as he lay catching his breath. I stood and shuffled towards the bathroom. His eyes followed. I resisted looking at him, but I could feel his black irises tracking my every move. When I was closing the door, he said. "Don't use all the hot water."
...to be continued...
Escape or Suffer
Chapter 2
As I was toweling myself, leaving one dry for him, he entered the tiny room. "Not enough space to hump a chicken in!" He snorted a laugh.
"I'm leaving." I meant I was going to get my clothes, keys, purse and drive away.
"You better be here when I get out of the shower." He glowered. "I got miles of fucks backed up in my balls."
I tried to shut the door but he stopped it with a slap of his hand. I tiptoed to the bed and collected my clothes into a pile at the corner nearest to the front door. I lifted my panties and stared at them. A rush of water sounded from the bathroom. I half expected the contented black geezer to sing.
My purse lay on the floor. My credit card, soiled from hiring a sleazy motel room, stared up at me. The picture on my driver's license had a blank expression. I picked them up and dropped them into the purse. Taking out my phone, my heart raced as fast as it had when I was being fucked against my will.
I looked at my reflection in its glossy surface while water dashed against shower tiles and against the stranger's thick body. I tapped a speed dial.
"Leen?" George sounded only slightly worried, from the speaker touching my ear. I'd been gone for less than two hours.
"George-"
"What the heck was that message you sent?" He interrupted. "And why voicemail?"
"You gotta listen, George. A man took me to a hotel. He-"
"You're cheating on me?" His voice cracked and squeaked from shock!
"I didn't mean to!" His interruptions were angering me.
"Did he **** you?!" George almost shouted into the phone. "I'll be right there!"
His concern cut my anger in half. "GEORGE! LISTEN!"
"I'm sorry!" He sounded repentant.
"I was at the park. I considered walking into the surf and swim until I couldn't return to shore. You. The kids. It was too much! You said you wanted to escape our ******! How do you think I felt?"
"I don't understand, but I was on the brink too. I'll come get you."
"Don't make this about you, George!"
A large, black hand grabbed the phone. "George, you fucked up! I just washed my cum and your wife's pussy juice from my big black dick, and she didn't run. Don't expect her home for a few more hours." The stranger grunted a laugh. "A hard up guy like me, might keep her all night. What your wife wants from you - is to hold yourself back from jerking off about it." He shut off the phone and flipped the silence switch.
Then he threw the phone at me! It smashed into my tits. "OWW!" I raised my arms against potential blows. He raised an open palm. "That was stupid."
His hand lowered but then he grabbed my shoulders and twisted as he plopped his butt on the edge of the bed. I suddenly found myself thrown across his lap. "What are you doing?"
"Treating you right, Bitch." Holding me down with his right hand, his left arm flew and and down. His off hand cracked against my bare behind! "You should have left, but then you used your fucking phone!?" SMASH!
I howled! The first swat had been more surprising than painful. He kept beating my ass, and I wailed like a trapped schoolgirl! "You warned me not to leave!"
"Fuck that, Bitch!" CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! "What are you, seven?"
I strained to twist off of his lap, but his right hand dug into my neck length hair and clenched. "OOOWWWWW!!!"
"If you really hated getting fucked by my dirty cock, I'd be jerking off right now." His hand was turning my ass purple!
"OWW! OW! I hate you!"
SMASH! "Tell me the truth, Cunt! Hells, I bet your getting wet already!"
His accusation forced my attention to my abused sex. Before I could sense if he was right, he beat my ass again. My body lurched from the impact. "OWW! STOP! STOP IT!!"
Abruptly, he pushed me off of his lap, and I felt to the stained and unpleasant carpet. "Now suck my dick, or I'll really get angry!"
Dazed from my fall, I looked up blinking. His cock was all that I could see. My right hand shook, reaching for it. Grabbing it grounded my confusion but did nothing for the pain in my behind. My eyes lifted and saw his glare. It had a slight smirk. "Go on." He urged.
My other hand also took hold of the soft member. I got to my knees, lifting my sore butt off of the carpet and positioning myself before the old black dude. The smirk in his glare widened. Casting my eyes down, I oriented my face by feel, hefted his large penis and placed the head to my lips. It was getting hard again, under my fingers.
"I'm not going to smack you for hesitating, but you better not leave me in the lurch."
I kept my eyes averted from his growing dick. At least it smelled better. However, the man didn't know or care about how well he cleaned his groin.
"Give it a kiss, Lady. Then take in what you can. Use your hands where your face can't reach."
I wished I could melt into the carpet to become another stain. Why hadn't I fled while he was showering?
He hunched slightly forward, tapping my lips with the head of his black cock. I didn't kiss him, but I opened my jaw and fed several inches into my mouth. My lips sealed around it, and my tongue started licking about four inches of dick, including the head. It tasted like a hastily rinsed glass of sour milk.
Two hands no longer fit what remained outside. I moved a hand to his knee for support. The other slowly jerked within the inch or two not covered by one hand. I started sucking.
Two inches of jerking room expanded into three. The inches in my mouth, also expanded, filling out my cheeks. If it had hardened fully, it would have gagged me.
"You ain't no whore. That's for sure." He chuckled. "Keep going. I'll be hard again quick enough."
Bobbing my head, I let it fuck in and out of my sucking lips. This allowed me to escape from choking on his growing dick.
He leaned forward and a hand grabbed my brown hair. I froze.
"Good. Now take a deep breath and swallow as much prick as you can." He didn't tug my hair, but the threat was obvious. I filled my lungs and prepared myself mentally. I had some experience with stifling my gag reflex, from using a tongue scraper as far as it could reach. I leaned forward and relaxed my gullet.
Too many inches of fat cock invaded my throat. My lungs immediately wanted to cough it out! But I persisted until I couldn't resist choking any longer!
I gagged then and pulled back. That's when his fingers dug into my hair and held me choking against his suffocating prick!
Panic swept through my mind. I flailed my arms, batting his thighs and the arm securing my head over more than half of his nearly hard cock!
I could feel myself starting to black out when he scooted back on the bed, pulling his shaft out of my face. I gasped and coughed!
With my hair still in his grip, he drew me up from kneeling and then pulled, tipping me on top of him. My belly slapped the length of his fat prick. My boobs flattened against his broad chest. His belly jiggled beneath me. "Now put it in." He let go of my hair.
I hesitated again, hating myself for continuing to be emotionally trapped by the old man's aura of authority. He'd done nothing to make me trust him, but I was unable to convince myself that he was truly dangerous.
While contemplating my pathetic surrender, a strange mood overcame me as if I had lost something difficult but important - and had gained something superficial but comfortable.
"Here." He grabbed my right hand and stuffed it between our soft bellies. The nail on my middle finger scraped his hard penis. He grunted, his patience clearly waning.
I drew back and lifted my hips, straddling his waist with my knees. This gave me room to grasp his full erection and aim it between my thighs. To delay further would only goad the old black man who had taken control of me.
I rubbed the flaring head of his stiff prick along the groove of my vulva, pressing it between the lips but not inserting it further. I didn't want to be dry again when he began ramming me. To distract him, I dangled my tits across his mouth. He reached up, grabbed both, and started mauling them. "Gods, I could get use to these titties for dessert and or breakfast." He nommed fervently. I whimpered and whined from his not so gentle bites, chewing, and pinching. Still I managed to keep rubbing my vulva with his prick head, and the faucet for my natural lubrication cracked open slightly. His rough work on my nipples increased the flow.
I soon found myself rubbing my clit exclusively with his cock head, before I realized how aroused I had become. Blushing hotly, I pushed it back to the hidden opening to my vagina and slowly sat on it. The bulbous tip popped through.
"Ohhh. You're wet this time." He grunted. "I don't hate it, but now you owe me, you sneaky slut." He hunched his hips upward and sank nearly half of his cock up my fuck chute. The amused but cheated man grabbed my shoulders and pulled, forcing my cunt to devour the remaining inches of his fat dick!
"AAHHHH!!" I groaned. It was too much, too quickly! "Take it easy, please!"
"I'm not doing this for you." To emphasize his selfishness, he twisted his body, toppling me to his right. My left side hit the mattress, but his embedded pylon stabilized me. He heaved himself up and over on top of me. Grinning, he planted his lips on mine and tried to stick his tongue into my mouth!
His hips drew back, unpacking most of his pecker out of my cunt. They thrust forward like a steam engine pistoning strokes within my oiled shaft, building up speed. His big black cock rammed and hoed the insides of an unhappy pussy. His powerful thrusts didn't hurt much, but each impact against my cervix caused me to yelp! "AAA!!"
A third pain, of being jammed full of stiff prick meat, felt like my cunt was be blown up like a balloon, but instead of air, I was being filled with dense flesh! "Nnngghh!!" I squeaked!
"Yeah, I'm gonna fuck you into a pile of defeated meat, ready to use whenever I want. Hrrrgghh!!" He groaned and pumped his huge member in and out of my suffering pussy! "Not. Gonna. Cum for. Long - time." He growled!
The one distraction from the pains of being stabbed vaginally, was the pressure applied intermittently to my clit through the straining flesh separating them. I knew that a few women, like me, had insensitive G-spots, but I guessed that the brief, pleasurable spasms from my clit were as close to it as I would ever feel. Of course George didn't have the equipment to pack my cunt with thick cock. He and I would manually stimulate my clit during sex.
"Gods! your cunt is fucking perfect!" The old man heaving on top of me, shouted. The bed shook like a machine was vibrating it. Heavy slaps of crotch on crotch sounded through the cheap motel room. My grunts and groans only inflamed the randy black!
I started clawing the bed covers instead of giving him the satisfaction of hearing me in pain. I clenched my lips and felt tears form behind my eyes. How could I have fallen so low as to let a stranger use me however he pleased? I was a pathetic mess with no future. I'd be divorced and alone because I wouldn't fight to keep our kids. The aging, fat brute battered me inside and out. My body slumped beneath him, my muscles surrendering to his pounding loins.
The small pleasures pulsing from my clit could never outpace my wellspring of self-doubt and loathing. Even my shame was knocked down by the man's strenuous heaves and slams! I felt empty, worthless, useful only to those who took what they wanted from my skin sack of dead meat.
Utterly destitute of will, my tears could not be held back. Sobs escaped surrendering lips. I squinted and cringed my head from the expected blow.
SMACK! "You're fucking crying again." The crack of his hand wasn't as heavy as I expected. "Hate that." Anger slowed his heaving butt.
SMACK! He slapped me with his other hand. His cock stilled but fully packed my straining receptacle. My tears dripped from his hand. He shook off the salty drops.
I dared to look at his face. Glaring eyes fueled a determined expression. I frowned and shrank as far into the lumpy mattress as I could. "I can't stop." I shut my view of his displeasure and blubbered wordlessly.
Strong arms dug under my naked torso. They wrapped behind me, lifting my tits. He lay fully upon me. His chest flattened my boobs. His head shifted to my left until his forehead rested on the bed. "Get a grip." He commanded softly.
I feared he would squeeze me dry of tears. His embrace remained relaxed though. His weight made it difficult to breath which slowed my sobs, and his fat pecker, straining my cunt, waited impatiently inside of me.
"I-I'm sorry."
"You're a sorry mess of a cunt." He grunted. "I can't change that, but I won't let a few stupid tears ruin my luck today." His hips pulled back, just a little. A couple inches of impacted prick withdrew from my pained twat. The pain eased.
He raised his groin further from mine, dredging out nearly half of his wide shaft. The pressure in my cunt vanished. I sighed but had difficulty replacing the expended breath.
He nestled his head in the crook between my right shoulder and neck. His breaths at my ear sounded like a buffalo's. His ass moved fore and downward, sinking most of what he'd withdrawn back into my recuperating hole. The slow but irresistible reinsertion of hard cock didn't surprise me. What did were my arms lifting up and around his back, fingertips barely overlapping.
I continued to cry but my sobs gave out. He fucked me slowly, hips grinding heavily but in no hurry. His cock stuffed my battered recess again and again but no longer slammed my cervix. I hugged him as gently as he fucked me. I worried, however, that he wasn't finished breaking me to conform to his will.
He humped slowly, steadily, and powerfully. The on and off pressure stimulating my clit sent greater pleasure through my senses, causing me to breathing faster, but his great weight dampened my arousal.
Time seemed to slow down and speed up. I found myself watching rays of light, seeping through the curtain, diminish as dusk and then twilight covered the city. The old, black man had incredible stamina for his age and flab. Our bodies rocked back and forth for what seemed like a few minutes but had been much longer.
When he stopped, I didn't guess the reason at first. He grunted loudly from intense relief. Hot cum splashed upon the deepest recess of my vagina. His hips shook as bolts of fresh semen painted my cervix.
Cum squirted out from around our interlocking sexes. My loins shuddered from unexpected pulses of hot spunk filling them. Maybe I even had a small orgasm, but that was unlikely. It's effect didn't reach farther than my navel.
The last of his seed flowed steadily into me. I realized I had stopped crying somewhere between sunset and twilight.
The old man rolled off of me and sank into his side of the bed, his strength expended perhaps. He breathed slowly but deeply. "Next time..." It was a certifiable threat.
I shrank away. The two words instilled cold wariness in my heart. He was not to be trifled with in his current state. I suspected two forces conflicted within his heart. Although satisfied by his orgasm, he remained frustrated by my failure to hold back my tears.
Darkness filled the room. I waited several minutes before asking. "May I switch on a lamp?"
"Whatever." He continue to struggle for steady breaths. I slowly understood how deeply his exertion had taxed him.
Despite my fear that he would suddenly grab me and extract his threatened pound of flesh, my bladder had first complained about its needs while he was still grinding his cock through my pussy. The black man's weight had nearly caused me to piss into the bed!
I crept off of the bed, mumbling, "Bathroom."
He didn't respond. I scurried to the toilet and let go a torrent of stifled urine. Pissing that pint gave greater joy than the small tremor I'd felt in my loins when my captor flooded my cunt with cum.
His breathing had changed when I returned from the toilet. The old man had fallen asleep! I stood at the foot of the bed, suddenly unable to form a coherent thought. I trembled not from uncertainty of his slumber, but the sudden weight of myself crashing upon my soul. My responsibilities, my connections to others, my own wishes all clawed their way into my empty heart. I looked down.
The pile of my clothes had fallen to the carpet. He had mocked me for not escaping while he showered. Did I dare dress and slip out before he could stop me?
I reached down and tenuously lifted my panties. Staring like a guilty owl, I watched the heavyset black man's chest rise and fall. His dick had retreated to a size just below that of a porn star who could actually act. It lay limp across his left thigh.
I stepped into my panties and slid them up my legs. My hands released the waistband slowly to avoid the slightest snap against my waist.
To save time, I put on my blouse next, intending to either carry my bra with me or abandon it. I didn't even pull on my socks before slipping the first shoe on my right foot and cinching the strap.
KNOCK! KNOCK!! "Colleen! Are you in there. Are you okay? My phone says your phone is in there!" George had tracked down my phone by the loss prevention feature.
I stumbled to the door and unlocked it blindly. My eyes refused to leave the black man's figure. He snorted and grunted, his weight shifting left and right. I opened it enough for George to see my face. I hissed, "GO AWAY!!"
"I can't!" He was frantic. "Not after what that man said on the phone. Is he in there? I'll call the cops." He looked down and swiped the surface of his phone.
I opened the door wider and thrust a hand out, slapping George's phone from his grip! "Don't be stupid!" It bounced on the catwalk and fell over the edge!
George, his dear soul, didn't chase it. He looked back at me. "What's happened to you, Leen?" His reaction was pure confusion. "I'm so sorry I couldn't find you sooner!"
A deep voice behind me shot terror up my spine. "Don't forget your fucking purse, Cunt!"
My husband reacted similarly to me. He trembled but froze. His face was a mask of fright. "What did he do to you?" He was imagining the most awful things!
"Idiot!" Upon seeing how spineless my husband was, my survival instincts finally kicked in. I turned back inside, my face as fearful as George's, but I resisted the old man's glare long enough to grab my purse, phone, and other shoe. I fled then, nearly bowling my husband over.
I dashed down the catwalk. George stumbled after me. Some of the outside lights actually worked, and we managed to not trip while descending the stairs. I raced to my Volvo, dumping everything on the heat stained hood. Grabbing the keys from my purse, I unlocked the car, threw the other stuff into the back seat and was about to plop myself in and drive away.
The Asian clerk wandered out to see what was happening. Idiot George had followed me instead of going to his early model Prius. "Colleen, speak to me!"
"Get in your car, George!" I yelled at him, ducked into mine and started the engine. We wrestled with the door until he relented and let me close it. I drove away, eyes on the rear view mirror. He stood confused, looking helpless. The Asian man walked up to him. I wanted to never see that place again.
...to be continued...
As I was toweling myself, leaving one dry for him, he entered the tiny room. "Not enough space to hump a chicken in!" He snorted a laugh."I'm leaving." I meant I was going to get my clothes, keys, purse and drive away.
"You better be here when I get out of the shower." He glowered. "I got miles of fucks backed up in my balls."
I tried to shut the door but he stopped it with a slap of his hand. I tiptoed to the bed and collected my clothes into a pile at the corner nearest to the front door. I lifted my panties and stared at them. A rush of water sounded from the bathroom. I half expected the contented black geezer to sing.
My purse lay on the floor. My credit card, soiled from hiring a sleazy motel room, stared up at me. The picture on my driver's license had a blank expression. I picked them up and dropped them into the purse. Taking out my phone, my heart raced as fast as it had when I was being fucked against my will.
I looked at my reflection in its glossy surface while water dashed against shower tiles and against the stranger's thick body. I tapped a speed dial.
"Leen?" George sounded only slightly worried, from the speaker touching my ear. I'd been gone for less than two hours.
"George-"
"What the heck was that message you sent?" He interrupted. "And why voicemail?"
"You gotta listen, George. A man took me to a hotel. He-"
"You're cheating on me?" His voice cracked and squeaked from shock!
"I didn't mean to!" His interruptions were angering me.
"Did he **** you?!" George almost shouted into the phone. "I'll be right there!"
His concern cut my anger in half. "GEORGE! LISTEN!"
"I'm sorry!" He sounded repentant.
"I was at the park. I considered walking into the surf and swim until I couldn't return to shore. You. The kids. It was too much! You said you wanted to escape our ******! How do you think I felt?"
"I don't understand, but I was on the brink too. I'll come get you."
"Don't make this about you, George!"
A large, black hand grabbed the phone. "George, you fucked up! I just washed my cum and your wife's pussy juice from my big black dick, and she didn't run. Don't expect her home for a few more hours." The stranger grunted a laugh. "A hard up guy like me, might keep her all night. What your wife wants from you - is to hold yourself back from jerking off about it." He shut off the phone and flipped the silence switch.
Then he threw the phone at me! It smashed into my tits. "OWW!" I raised my arms against potential blows. He raised an open palm. "That was stupid."
His hand lowered but then he grabbed my shoulders and twisted as he plopped his butt on the edge of the bed. I suddenly found myself thrown across his lap. "What are you doing?"
"Treating you right, Bitch." Holding me down with his right hand, his left arm flew and and down. His off hand cracked against my bare behind! "You should have left, but then you used your fucking phone!?" SMASH!
I howled! The first swat had been more surprising than painful. He kept beating my ass, and I wailed like a trapped schoolgirl! "You warned me not to leave!"
"Fuck that, Bitch!" CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! "What are you, seven?"
I strained to twist off of his lap, but his right hand dug into my neck length hair and clenched. "OOOWWWWW!!!"
"If you really hated getting fucked by my dirty cock, I'd be jerking off right now." His hand was turning my ass purple!
"OWW! OW! I hate you!"
SMASH! "Tell me the truth, Cunt! Hells, I bet your getting wet already!"
His accusation forced my attention to my abused sex. Before I could sense if he was right, he beat my ass again. My body lurched from the impact. "OWW! STOP! STOP IT!!"
Abruptly, he pushed me off of his lap, and I felt to the stained and unpleasant carpet. "Now suck my dick, or I'll really get angry!"
Dazed from my fall, I looked up blinking. His cock was all that I could see. My right hand shook, reaching for it. Grabbing it grounded my confusion but did nothing for the pain in my behind. My eyes lifted and saw his glare. It had a slight smirk. "Go on." He urged.
My other hand also took hold of the soft member. I got to my knees, lifting my sore butt off of the carpet and positioning myself before the old black dude. The smirk in his glare widened. Casting my eyes down, I oriented my face by feel, hefted his large penis and placed the head to my lips. It was getting hard again, under my fingers.
"I'm not going to smack you for hesitating, but you better not leave me in the lurch."
I kept my eyes averted from his growing dick. At least it smelled better. However, the man didn't know or care about how well he cleaned his groin.
"Give it a kiss, Lady. Then take in what you can. Use your hands where your face can't reach."
I wished I could melt into the carpet to become another stain. Why hadn't I fled while he was showering?
He hunched slightly forward, tapping my lips with the head of his black cock. I didn't kiss him, but I opened my jaw and fed several inches into my mouth. My lips sealed around it, and my tongue started licking about four inches of dick, including the head. It tasted like a hastily rinsed glass of sour milk.
Two hands no longer fit what remained outside. I moved a hand to his knee for support. The other slowly jerked within the inch or two not covered by one hand. I started sucking.
Two inches of jerking room expanded into three. The inches in my mouth, also expanded, filling out my cheeks. If it had hardened fully, it would have gagged me.
"You ain't no whore. That's for sure." He chuckled. "Keep going. I'll be hard again quick enough."
Bobbing my head, I let it fuck in and out of my sucking lips. This allowed me to escape from choking on his growing dick.
He leaned forward and a hand grabbed my brown hair. I froze.
"Good. Now take a deep breath and swallow as much prick as you can." He didn't tug my hair, but the threat was obvious. I filled my lungs and prepared myself mentally. I had some experience with stifling my gag reflex, from using a tongue scraper as far as it could reach. I leaned forward and relaxed my gullet.
Too many inches of fat cock invaded my throat. My lungs immediately wanted to cough it out! But I persisted until I couldn't resist choking any longer!
I gagged then and pulled back. That's when his fingers dug into my hair and held me choking against his suffocating prick!
Panic swept through my mind. I flailed my arms, batting his thighs and the arm securing my head over more than half of his nearly hard cock!
I could feel myself starting to black out when he scooted back on the bed, pulling his shaft out of my face. I gasped and coughed!
With my hair still in his grip, he drew me up from kneeling and then pulled, tipping me on top of him. My belly slapped the length of his fat prick. My boobs flattened against his broad chest. His belly jiggled beneath me. "Now put it in." He let go of my hair.
I hesitated again, hating myself for continuing to be emotionally trapped by the old man's aura of authority. He'd done nothing to make me trust him, but I was unable to convince myself that he was truly dangerous.
While contemplating my pathetic surrender, a strange mood overcame me as if I had lost something difficult but important - and had gained something superficial but comfortable.
"Here." He grabbed my right hand and stuffed it between our soft bellies. The nail on my middle finger scraped his hard penis. He grunted, his patience clearly waning.
I drew back and lifted my hips, straddling his waist with my knees. This gave me room to grasp his full erection and aim it between my thighs. To delay further would only goad the old black man who had taken control of me.
I rubbed the flaring head of his stiff prick along the groove of my vulva, pressing it between the lips but not inserting it further. I didn't want to be dry again when he began ramming me. To distract him, I dangled my tits across his mouth. He reached up, grabbed both, and started mauling them. "Gods, I could get use to these titties for dessert and or breakfast." He nommed fervently. I whimpered and whined from his not so gentle bites, chewing, and pinching. Still I managed to keep rubbing my vulva with his prick head, and the faucet for my natural lubrication cracked open slightly. His rough work on my nipples increased the flow.
I soon found myself rubbing my clit exclusively with his cock head, before I realized how aroused I had become. Blushing hotly, I pushed it back to the hidden opening to my vagina and slowly sat on it. The bulbous tip popped through.
"Ohhh. You're wet this time." He grunted. "I don't hate it, but now you owe me, you sneaky slut." He hunched his hips upward and sank nearly half of his cock up my fuck chute. The amused but cheated man grabbed my shoulders and pulled, forcing my cunt to devour the remaining inches of his fat dick!
"AAHHHH!!" I groaned. It was too much, too quickly! "Take it easy, please!"
"I'm not doing this for you." To emphasize his selfishness, he twisted his body, toppling me to his right. My left side hit the mattress, but his embedded pylon stabilized me. He heaved himself up and over on top of me. Grinning, he planted his lips on mine and tried to stick his tongue into my mouth!
His hips drew back, unpacking most of his pecker out of my cunt. They thrust forward like a steam engine pistoning strokes within my oiled shaft, building up speed. His big black cock rammed and hoed the insides of an unhappy pussy. His powerful thrusts didn't hurt much, but each impact against my cervix caused me to yelp! "AAA!!"
A third pain, of being jammed full of stiff prick meat, felt like my cunt was be blown up like a balloon, but instead of air, I was being filled with dense flesh! "Nnngghh!!" I squeaked!
"Yeah, I'm gonna fuck you into a pile of defeated meat, ready to use whenever I want. Hrrrgghh!!" He groaned and pumped his huge member in and out of my suffering pussy! "Not. Gonna. Cum for. Long - time." He growled!
The one distraction from the pains of being stabbed vaginally, was the pressure applied intermittently to my clit through the straining flesh separating them. I knew that a few women, like me, had insensitive G-spots, but I guessed that the brief, pleasurable spasms from my clit were as close to it as I would ever feel. Of course George didn't have the equipment to pack my cunt with thick cock. He and I would manually stimulate my clit during sex.
"Gods! your cunt is fucking perfect!" The old man heaving on top of me, shouted. The bed shook like a machine was vibrating it. Heavy slaps of crotch on crotch sounded through the cheap motel room. My grunts and groans only inflamed the randy black!
I started clawing the bed covers instead of giving him the satisfaction of hearing me in pain. I clenched my lips and felt tears form behind my eyes. How could I have fallen so low as to let a stranger use me however he pleased? I was a pathetic mess with no future. I'd be divorced and alone because I wouldn't fight to keep our kids. The aging, fat brute battered me inside and out. My body slumped beneath him, my muscles surrendering to his pounding loins.
The small pleasures pulsing from my clit could never outpace my wellspring of self-doubt and loathing. Even my shame was knocked down by the man's strenuous heaves and slams! I felt empty, worthless, useful only to those who took what they wanted from my skin sack of dead meat.
Utterly destitute of will, my tears could not be held back. Sobs escaped surrendering lips. I squinted and cringed my head from the expected blow.
SMACK! "You're fucking crying again." The crack of his hand wasn't as heavy as I expected. "Hate that." Anger slowed his heaving butt.
SMACK! He slapped me with his other hand. His cock stilled but fully packed my straining receptacle. My tears dripped from his hand. He shook off the salty drops.
I dared to look at his face. Glaring eyes fueled a determined expression. I frowned and shrank as far into the lumpy mattress as I could. "I can't stop." I shut my view of his displeasure and blubbered wordlessly.
Strong arms dug under my naked torso. They wrapped behind me, lifting my tits. He lay fully upon me. His chest flattened my boobs. His head shifted to my left until his forehead rested on the bed. "Get a grip." He commanded softly.
I feared he would squeeze me dry of tears. His embrace remained relaxed though. His weight made it difficult to breath which slowed my sobs, and his fat pecker, straining my cunt, waited impatiently inside of me.
"I-I'm sorry."
"You're a sorry mess of a cunt." He grunted. "I can't change that, but I won't let a few stupid tears ruin my luck today." His hips pulled back, just a little. A couple inches of impacted prick withdrew from my pained twat. The pain eased.
He raised his groin further from mine, dredging out nearly half of his wide shaft. The pressure in my cunt vanished. I sighed but had difficulty replacing the expended breath.
He nestled his head in the crook between my right shoulder and neck. His breaths at my ear sounded like a buffalo's. His ass moved fore and downward, sinking most of what he'd withdrawn back into my recuperating hole. The slow but irresistible reinsertion of hard cock didn't surprise me. What did were my arms lifting up and around his back, fingertips barely overlapping.
I continued to cry but my sobs gave out. He fucked me slowly, hips grinding heavily but in no hurry. His cock stuffed my battered recess again and again but no longer slammed my cervix. I hugged him as gently as he fucked me. I worried, however, that he wasn't finished breaking me to conform to his will.
He humped slowly, steadily, and powerfully. The on and off pressure stimulating my clit sent greater pleasure through my senses, causing me to breathing faster, but his great weight dampened my arousal.
Time seemed to slow down and speed up. I found myself watching rays of light, seeping through the curtain, diminish as dusk and then twilight covered the city. The old, black man had incredible stamina for his age and flab. Our bodies rocked back and forth for what seemed like a few minutes but had been much longer.
When he stopped, I didn't guess the reason at first. He grunted loudly from intense relief. Hot cum splashed upon the deepest recess of my vagina. His hips shook as bolts of fresh semen painted my cervix.
Cum squirted out from around our interlocking sexes. My loins shuddered from unexpected pulses of hot spunk filling them. Maybe I even had a small orgasm, but that was unlikely. It's effect didn't reach farther than my navel.
The last of his seed flowed steadily into me. I realized I had stopped crying somewhere between sunset and twilight.
The old man rolled off of me and sank into his side of the bed, his strength expended perhaps. He breathed slowly but deeply. "Next time..." It was a certifiable threat.
I shrank away. The two words instilled cold wariness in my heart. He was not to be trifled with in his current state. I suspected two forces conflicted within his heart. Although satisfied by his orgasm, he remained frustrated by my failure to hold back my tears.
Darkness filled the room. I waited several minutes before asking. "May I switch on a lamp?"
"Whatever." He continue to struggle for steady breaths. I slowly understood how deeply his exertion had taxed him.
Despite my fear that he would suddenly grab me and extract his threatened pound of flesh, my bladder had first complained about its needs while he was still grinding his cock through my pussy. The black man's weight had nearly caused me to piss into the bed!
I crept off of the bed, mumbling, "Bathroom."
He didn't respond. I scurried to the toilet and let go a torrent of stifled urine. Pissing that pint gave greater joy than the small tremor I'd felt in my loins when my captor flooded my cunt with cum.
His breathing had changed when I returned from the toilet. The old man had fallen asleep! I stood at the foot of the bed, suddenly unable to form a coherent thought. I trembled not from uncertainty of his slumber, but the sudden weight of myself crashing upon my soul. My responsibilities, my connections to others, my own wishes all clawed their way into my empty heart. I looked down.
The pile of my clothes had fallen to the carpet. He had mocked me for not escaping while he showered. Did I dare dress and slip out before he could stop me?
I reached down and tenuously lifted my panties. Staring like a guilty owl, I watched the heavyset black man's chest rise and fall. His dick had retreated to a size just below that of a porn star who could actually act. It lay limp across his left thigh.
I stepped into my panties and slid them up my legs. My hands released the waistband slowly to avoid the slightest snap against my waist.
To save time, I put on my blouse next, intending to either carry my bra with me or abandon it. I didn't even pull on my socks before slipping the first shoe on my right foot and cinching the strap.
KNOCK! KNOCK!! "Colleen! Are you in there. Are you okay? My phone says your phone is in there!" George had tracked down my phone by the loss prevention feature.
I stumbled to the door and unlocked it blindly. My eyes refused to leave the black man's figure. He snorted and grunted, his weight shifting left and right. I opened it enough for George to see my face. I hissed, "GO AWAY!!"
"I can't!" He was frantic. "Not after what that man said on the phone. Is he in there? I'll call the cops." He looked down and swiped the surface of his phone.
I opened the door wider and thrust a hand out, slapping George's phone from his grip! "Don't be stupid!" It bounced on the catwalk and fell over the edge!
George, his dear soul, didn't chase it. He looked back at me. "What's happened to you, Leen?" His reaction was pure confusion. "I'm so sorry I couldn't find you sooner!"
A deep voice behind me shot terror up my spine. "Don't forget your fucking purse, Cunt!"
My husband reacted similarly to me. He trembled but froze. His face was a mask of fright. "What did he do to you?" He was imagining the most awful things!
"Idiot!" Upon seeing how spineless my husband was, my survival instincts finally kicked in. I turned back inside, my face as fearful as George's, but I resisted the old man's glare long enough to grab my purse, phone, and other shoe. I fled then, nearly bowling my husband over.
I dashed down the catwalk. George stumbled after me. Some of the outside lights actually worked, and we managed to not trip while descending the stairs. I raced to my Volvo, dumping everything on the heat stained hood. Grabbing the keys from my purse, I unlocked the car, threw the other stuff into the back seat and was about to plop myself in and drive away.
The Asian clerk wandered out to see what was happening. Idiot George had followed me instead of going to his early model Prius. "Colleen, speak to me!"
"Get in your car, George!" I yelled at him, ducked into mine and started the engine. We wrestled with the door until he relented and let me close it. I drove away, eyes on the rear view mirror. He stood confused, looking helpless. The Asian man walked up to him. I wanted to never see that place again.
...to be continued...
Can't Even Save Himself
Chapter 3
[NOTE: this chapter contains a scene with forced, male on male, oral. You might want to skip that part. Future chapters will be exclusively heterosexual.]
I fit my other shoe after parking in our double wide driveway. Climbing out, I was more collected but damaged worse than I realized.
"Ridley! Peg!" I shouted entering the house. George must have been in such a hurry, he hadn't locked the front door.
"Hey, Mom, you're back!" My son shouted from his room. Neither child rushed to me.
"I told you she'd be back before midnight." Peg proclaimed as loudly.
"You said before nightfall!" His brother argued.
"You said she had left us for good!" She hammered him.
"Mom! I did not!" My thirteen year-old sounded like he was seven.
"Get out here, right now!" I heard myself screech!
Silence. Mother had never screamed at them before.
"Right now, both of you!" I repeated loudly without going hypersonic.
Two young teens emerged from their rooms and entered the living room. They looked full of disbelief. I remained standing in the entry, door shut behind me. "Listen, you two." My voice calmed only slightly. "Your father and I are dealing with some difficulties-"
"Mom, are you going to divorce?" Peg interrupted.
"Please, Mom, if you do, can I live with you?" Ridley pleaded. "*** can have mean ol' Peg."
CRACK! My son's head spun from my angry slap! He yipped like a smacked dog. "MOM!"
Peg's jaw hung open. I had never struck them. When Ridley's head turned back, his jaw remained offset. They stared at me as if I were The Terminator.
I abruptly realized what I'd done! My anger sank into the floor, to be replaced by astonishment and sharp guilt! I went to the nearby couch, aghast at my action.
"I-I'm sorry-" I stuttered, but a follow-up flash of contempt swept through my heart. "No." I clenched my lips. "I'm not sorry." A glare erupted in my eyes.
"Mom, what happened?" Peg was the more reasoning child of mine. Mother wasn't in Kansas anymore.
"The gods put me through a wringer today. That's the last I'll discuss it. But if I learned anything from it, I'll go to the hells before I let you two act up again." Passion infused my voice instead of anger.
"Uh - Mom, I can kinda see your-" My son clamped his lips tight. His eyes however were glued to my chest!
I flung an arm around the shadows which my veiled nipples left on the thin blouse, but I didn't back down. "Hush! Go back to your rooms, and I don't want to hear another peep from you!"
"We haven't had supper-" Peg started, but when she saw me raise my hand, she backed away.
Ridley nearly turned and ran. His sister wasn't far behind when he disappeared around the hallway entrance.
I sank my knees into the couch and hugged the plush back, resting my face on the soft top. I wanted to cry, but I was past that. Eventually, I rose up and went George's and my bedroom. I drew a bath in our private room and soaked naked, the day's horror stirring my emotions like a whirlwind.
A long while later, George entered our bedroom. He moved like a zombie. "George?"
"There you are." He shuffled up to the open bathroom door. He was quite pale, obviously wanting to speak but unable.
I curled forward, knees covering my chest. "Now's not the time." I shut him down further. "Perhaps we can talk tomorrow."
We slept on opposite sides of our king sized bed that night. I huddled under a separate blanket, wearing pajamas and a gown over them. I couldn't handle the concept of George seeing me naked.
That he was bewildered enough to sleep away from me, I found odd even for his typical reluctance to enter conflict. That was both our troubles and why our children ran rampant. I'd known this for years but had never mustered the chutzpa to correct the situation. He also understood our mutual weakness and had similar motivation issues. I always thought we made the perfect couple.
One insatiable black man, old and fat, had shattered that foolish notion.
I woke up groggy and squinting from bright sunlight. I was alone in the room. I checked the clock. It was nearly nine. Rising and hauling my legs off the side of the bed, I got up and pressed my feet into a pair of slippers.
Angry shouts from the kitchen filtered through the bedroom door. I clutched the blanket around me like armor over my gown and pajamas and went out into the hall.
"***! We're late for school!" Ridley worried!
"You'll drive us today, right?" Peg accused. "It's your fault for not making breakfast sooner." Cowing their father into giving a ride to school was one of the few times the children joined forces for mutual gain.
"George. You're driving straight to work." I entered looking haggard but feeling more alive than usual. The kids' attitudes fell away at my surprise presence. "Peg! Ridley!" I called sharply. "School will have to wait for you to walk there." I glared at them. "Each of you are perfectly capable of making a simple meal, hopefully without burning down the place. Now fetch your things and go."
"But I'm not finish-"
I stabbed arm, hand, and finger at the hallway. "Go."
Our two teens slipped out of their chairs and stepped far around me to reach their rooms. Ridley unconsciously touched his left cheek.
George looked up from the table. "How did you do that?"
"Anger, George." I sat in Ridley's chair and began to eat was was left on his plate.
"I can't imagine what you're going through." He tried sounding sincere, but he could never lie convincingly, let alone his wife of nearly twenty years. Something was troubling him.
"Why were you so late getting home?"
"Oh." Panic flared in his eyes. "I decided to stop-"
"Don't lie to me, George. I'm not going to divorce you even if you stabbed a salesclerk on the way home."
"That." He tried to endrun the issue. "I was at my wit's end, yesterday. I never should have said that."
I hissed my nose at him and finished the food on the plate in front of me. Without taking my accusing eyes off of my reluctant husband, I reached over the table and grabbed Peg's plate.
He picked at his food. Peg and Ridley came from the hall and cautiously shuffled out the front door.
George's head tilted at their reserved obedience. He next hung his head and mumbled. "That man - at the hotel. He- He-" George's body shook. His voice wheezed. "...explained."
"Who, the hotel manager?"
"No." He unexpectedly squeaked. "The m-man who ... attacked you."
Gods! My strength drained. The stranger had done more than talked to George. That much was obvious from the whimpers George emitted while trying to hide his tears.
"George!" I blurted with the last of my bluster. "What happened? You have to tell me."
"It's too shameful." He shook his head.
"What did you do? I promise, I can handle it." After yesterday's gauntlet of humiliation, I was ready for anything.
"I went back to the room." He wheezed.
"No." My head shook. "What were you thinking?"
"I found my phone. The glass was cracked but still worked. I blamed him. I went up the stairs..."
***
George was pumped up to investigate. Curiosity, great concern for my wellbeing, and just enough remorse for his phone, gave him stupid courage to knock on door 23. "I'm her husband. I demand to talk with you, or I'm calling the police." He thought he had all the power.
The door opened, the stranger stood sneering, a unamused, naked titan assessing my five foot, eight inch husband. "Yeah? What's your name?" His question had more force than George's demand.
"Uh, George."
"Hmph." The old black sneered. "Yeah, that's right." He had heard me call my husband's name into my phone. Sneer notwithstanding, the stranger held out his hand to be shaken. My name's Leland. Tell the cops it's Leland Jones. They have a file for me. There's not much in it, but you can verify my mug shots when they want your testimony."
Leland Jones held his hand steady before him. It wasn't an offer to refuse. "But first you're gonna have to get your wife to press charges."
George was foolish to grasp the hand, still confident he had the edge.
Leland didn't crush my husband's hand, but he made it clear that physically messing with him was going to be very painful for George. "One thing I guarantee, George, is the hotel manager will swear that she hired the room on her own accord. I wasn't even in the office when she handed her card to him."
"Colleen was under a lot of stress. I'm sure good lawyer will find just means to charge a man who took advantage of a severely depressed woman." George was doing his best to sustain his foolish notion of having the advantage.
"That's her name? Colleen?" Leland Jones picked his nose and flicked the snot at my husband. "Get in here." He reached out, grabbed George by the elbow and dragged him into the room. "I was getting a draft." The naked old, heavy man shut the door and locked the additional bolt.
"That's assault." George accused.
"No, it's not." Leland scoffed. "Touching is battery." He guarded the door. "Now sit down, and let's talk real good." He used poor grammar as a threat.
Before he could stop himself, George sat on the foot of the bed stained by his wife's and the black man's juices.
"I took a liking to your wife when I first saw her." Leland began. "When I found out she was a push-over, I drove her here, and we fucked." He chuckled. "I should say, I fucked her."
George's eyes had been straining to look away from the black man's dangling dick. But Leland's confession drew his eyes to the prize still gooey from my pussy and a stranger's cum.
"You abused her." My husband found that he couldn't meet my assailant's eyes while accusing the black man.
"Probably, but she left of her free will. You witnessed that. Has she called the cops?"
"I'll convince her. She's not like women of your generation who were too frightened to speak up about being ***** because the legal system was stacked against them."
"You speak real pretty, George." Leland's sneer widened. "But why are you talking to my big black dick?"
George's head jerked up. He eyes met Leland's shining orbs, and his heart shrank before them. He averted his gaze to the door. "I have nothing else to say." He stood up and took one step to the exit.
Leland pushed him just right to send George's butt back on the bed. "Why leave when the conversation was just getting interesting?"
George's last hurrah was to pull out his phone and try to emergency dial, 911.
Leland predictably slapped the cracked phone out of my husband's hand. "You got a pretty mouth, George. Why waste it on the cops?"
"Let me go." George bolted up from the bed, but the large black man caught him and carried him back, plopping my husband down like a sack of pork rinds.
"Now I'm gonna talk, George. You try anything else, and I won't be so gentle." Leland asserted.
The last of poor George's will shrank into a mote. "This is crazy, Leland. You're just making it worse for you." He tried reasoning with the oppressive man.
Leland growled. "From now on, Georgie Porgie, you will address me as Mr. Jones. That's the first thing I have to tell you. Got that?"
George had lost the ability to meet his captor's eyes. "Sure. Whatever." He promised himself never to speak any name for the black man.
"Second-" Leland's laugh interrupted himself. "You're looking at my prick again. You got some kind of queer backstory?"
"No!" George blurted then mumbled. "I just wish you'd put on some clothes."
"Then why do I think a man with such a pretty mouth must have had a few experiments which put his pretty mouth to good use?"
George urgently wanted to persist with denial, but he found himself trying to reason with the utterly unreasonable old man. "That was long before I married, just a couple times. Kids in my generation were nearly encouraged to explore. I love my wife, and we are very happy together."
"Oh, so the truth comes out. Now all you got to do is admit you enjoyed it."
"I'm not going to say anything more until you let me out of here." It was my husband's last line of defense, and it failed horribly.
"Good, I was getting bored of the conversation too." Leland strode up to George, grabbed his hair, and shook his head.
My husband screamed from a pain he'd never experienced before! "Let me go!"
Leland hefted his cock and aimed the soft length at my husband's wide mouth. "I thought you said you were done talking. Let me help you with that." He jammed his prick head into George's lips, but it was met by clamped teeth.
"Why'd you make your lips ugly all of a sudden?" Leland slapped my husband's face with the end of his heavy dick. He shook George's head harder. "Open up, George, and you better not bite. I'll break your fucking neck!"
The pain in his skull was torture for my mild-mannered husband. His guttering willpower couldn't muster further resistance. George opened his mouth, and Mr. Jones stuffed his soft length into my husband's face!
"That's much better." Leland eased his grip. "Now I'll give you a moment to let my cock soak before I tell you to start sucking." He had jammed nearly half of his prick past George's lips!
George's defeated eyes swung up, pleading for mercy from the black man's cold expression. An awful taste from the gagging pecker made his stomach churn. But he was helpless to prevent what was being forced upon him.
"That's long enough." Leland grinned. "Now start sucking, and I'd appreciate more than a little tongue."
Against his will, George's mouth and tongue began working, anything to prevent hair being torn from his scalp!
"Yeah, you probably only sucked a couple times, like you said - long in the past. But you'll get the hang of it again."
My husband gagged as the fat meat in his mouth hardened and lengthened. The end grew to block his gullet which began convulsing painfully. He couldn't breathe!
Leland's free hand slapped my husband's cheek, producing more sound than pain. Still the sting grabbed his attention and broke his will further. "You don't throw up on me, right? Hold that back a little bit longer, and I'll make it easier for you. I kinda like how your throat is struggling against my prick head."
George gagged for endless seconds while trying to keep his stomach from erupting. His tongue flailed randomly against the underside of the suffocating mass.
"Ahhhh!" Leland pulled two inches from my husband's face. "Catch your breath for a bit, and we'll start again."
George gasped and heaved lungfuls of air. The prick stuffed into his mouth kept getting longer, fatter, and harder. It would soon fill the gap which his assailant had given.
Before my husband's need for air was sated fully, Leland clenched the hair in his hand, tight! George groaned but his expression of agony was cut off by the massive head growing behind his tongue. "Suck it harder, Bitch!" Leland jabbed his prick deeper.
George convulsed from imminent asphyxiation. He forced himself to suck harder, unable to do anything but follow the old, black man's orders.
"Yeah! That's the ticket!" Leland roared! He let go of my husband's hair and stepped back, six inches of black snake plopping out of the poor man's croaking throat!
George gasped again, desperate to catch air and survive the next few seconds. His vision had dimmed to near darkness, with only pinholes to look through. The one thing he could see was the fully erect length and wide of Leland Jone's mighty cock!
"Yeah, that'll do nicely, you gay bitch." Leland took himself in hand and slowly jerked. "Now what have you to say?"
George had begun to weep when he was choking for the second time. He burst into heaving sobs aided by his ongoing need for oxygen.
"I can't hear if you're saying anything." Leland slapped his hard dick across my husband's cheeks, smacking him twice, once in each direction. "Talk to me, or I'll stuff your gob again."
"I- <hhh> can't h-handle this. You almost killed me. Let me go!"
"RRRNNNKKK!! Wrong speech, mouth pussy boy. This is where you thank me for helping you relive bygone days of happy faggoting."
George hung his head and wept. His sobs faded as his lungs caught their breath.
CRACK! A heavy, black hand crashed against my husband's skull! "Thank me, Faggot, and you better address me proper!"
"Thank you, Mr. Jones." Poor, broken George wailed abruptly, no longer able to think - just obey.
"For what, Mouth Cunt?" Leland leered down from his great height advantage.
"For letting me suck you."
"Suck what and why? Make me believe you mean it!" The black man slapped George's face again, but just enough to encourage a proper response.
My broken husband started from scratch, praying that the man would finally let him go, if he said it right. "Thank you - Mr. Jones - for letting me suck your big, black, cock and for helping me relive the joy of sucking a man's dick."
"Okay then, you're very welcome." Leland answered with a helping of sarcasm. "You can speak real pretty-like when you try. It makes your mouth look like a hungry cunt when you talk like that, but where are my manners? I need to thank you."
George didn't dare ask why, but too he worried that he might be punished for not asking.
"Thank you, Pussy Mouth, for making my dick about as hard as it gets!" The black man laughed. "Now we can put it to even more fun of a use!"
"NOO!" George shouted in terror!
"What, you never took it up the butt before?" The fat old man scratched his head. "I guess some faggots just like to suck a cock." He shrugged. "Maybe I should offer you an alternative."
The unspoken 'alternative' terrified George worse than getting ass-fucked!" The blood in his face drained completely away. He grimaced with lips open. His head shook slowly side to side.
Leland's wicked grin returned. He bent down and picked up George's phone. Straightening, he held it out to him. "Take this and unlock it for me, George. I don't mind it's cracked, and you were going to get a new phone anyway." The black man reminded, "Do it for me, and you can take your butt virginity out that door, never to return."
Sure! George had to restrain himself from grabbing the phone too quickly. He pressed his finger to the main button. "Now I just have to erase it. Won't take long."
Like a diving eagle, Leland snatched the phone from my husband's shaking hands. "Fuck that. Now git!" He commanded.
My husband's eyes nearly exploded when he realized what he was giving to the man who had ***** his mouth! To remove the vast information of his personal life, was now impossible.
The heavy set, black man could mop the floor with his face while stiffing his colon with the largest, fattest, cock he'd ever seen. With a cry of mental anguish, he dashed to the door, fumbled with the lock, finally unlatched it, opened it, leaped outside, bent over suddenly, and puked his guts out. A chuckling old black man, wanking slowly on his big cock, kicked the door shut, sending my husband wailing into the night!
I could only shake my head at the end of my devastated husband's tale.
"I'm going to press charges, Colleen. I need you to back up my story. We'll put that villain behind bars where he belongs!"
Going to the police was an enticing fantasy, but I could never face Leland Jones ever again. I would break down and say anything to clear him of wrongdoing. More important matters wedged into my thoughts. George was late for work. It wasn't a big deal, but it would stain a spotless record of attendance. It was my excuse to tell him. "You head to work, George. I'll try to figure out what I can tell the police."
"I love you, Colleen." He launched himself from the kitchen table, kissed my cheek, and headed for his briefcase and keys at the front door.
When the front door shut behind him, I slumped in Ridley's chair, suddenly realizing how much I'd eaten. There wasn't a scrap left on the table. I might even have stolen George's remaining bites from his plate!
I too had a job, one that let me work from home. It was part-time work as a customer service rep for a traditional chain of high-end clothing and cosmetics, but I worked for their also-ran, online store.
George called me at lunch, and I picked up my phone without thinking.
The baritone voice sounded as powerfully as ever. "Colleen, I checked out of the hotel, but I need a ride to the Social Security office. Bastards are holding back my checks!"
My free hand flew up, fingers frantic to stab the disconnect button, but it merely hovered over the red circle.
"I-I can't." I heard myself speak into the microphone. "I'm working." It wasn't really a lie. While I was technically taking a lunch, I'd have to sign into the call board in just a few minutes.
"Shit. I might not make it there in time, if I had to bus to your house, on 1377 Waverly St. in order to borrow your car."
Of course he knew our address. He had access to every iota of information on my husband's phone.
"Please, Mr. Jones, just leave me and my husband alone. Haven't you done enough to us?" I started babbling. "He wants to press charges, but if you promise to go away, I'll promise he never will."
"So that's the way you're gonna be." Leland's sigh sounded fake even through the cell connection. "And after all the fun we had, yesterday."
"That was a nightmare!" My voice nearly broke into unabashed anger.
"Maybe it was for you, on the surface, but I think you aren't being honest with yourself. Deep down, you need what I can give to you."
My mind suddenly reflected on my behavior when I returned home the night before. I confronted my children's constant bickering and got them to shut up. I'd never been able to do that, not until- A cold shiver ran down my spine.
"You're not making any sense. It was horrible!" I persisted.
But he had me talking, and he knew, unless I hung up, he would win the victory eventually. Deep down, I may have known that too.
"Let's cut the bullshit." He attacked. "You're not going to charge me, and without you, your husband can't make his case." He waited, but I didn't respond.
"I understand you don't want me dropping by your home. You've got two beautiful kids, and it might twist their minds if they interrupted us."
Bastard! Of course George had pictures of us and the kids! I fumed on the inside, but I couldn't draw on my anger to form words. The idea of Peg and Ridley finding me pinned by an old, black man's cock, no matter how large, was too terrifying!
George would divorce me, and I would never see my kids again. Cold certainty forced me to ask for the address of Leland's destination. I had my doubts about the Social Security office. My ****** didn't look or act like the minimum age to receive payments. Perhaps he had lied to the administration and forged his paperwork.
That wasn't my problem, I told myself during the drive back to that awful hotel!
Tears of helplessness formed in my eyes when I saw him flag down my Volvo. I pulled up at the curb, and he opened the driver side door. "It's bad manners for a man to let a woman drive." He asserted.
...to be continued...
[NOTE: this chapter contains a scene with forced, male on male, oral. You might want to skip that part. Future chapters will be exclusively heterosexual.]
I fit my other shoe after parking in our double wide driveway. Climbing out, I was more collected but damaged worse than I realized.
"Ridley! Peg!" I shouted entering the house. George must have been in such a hurry, he hadn't locked the front door.
"Hey, Mom, you're back!" My son shouted from his room. Neither child rushed to me.
"I told you she'd be back before midnight." Peg proclaimed as loudly.
"You said before nightfall!" His brother argued.
"You said she had left us for good!" She hammered him.
"Mom! I did not!" My thirteen year-old sounded like he was seven.
"Get out here, right now!" I heard myself screech!
Silence. Mother had never screamed at them before.
"Right now, both of you!" I repeated loudly without going hypersonic.
Two young teens emerged from their rooms and entered the living room. They looked full of disbelief. I remained standing in the entry, door shut behind me. "Listen, you two." My voice calmed only slightly. "Your father and I are dealing with some difficulties-"
"Mom, are you going to divorce?" Peg interrupted.
"Please, Mom, if you do, can I live with you?" Ridley pleaded. "*** can have mean ol' Peg."
CRACK! My son's head spun from my angry slap! He yipped like a smacked dog. "MOM!"
Peg's jaw hung open. I had never struck them. When Ridley's head turned back, his jaw remained offset. They stared at me as if I were The Terminator.
I abruptly realized what I'd done! My anger sank into the floor, to be replaced by astonishment and sharp guilt! I went to the nearby couch, aghast at my action.
"I-I'm sorry-" I stuttered, but a follow-up flash of contempt swept through my heart. "No." I clenched my lips. "I'm not sorry." A glare erupted in my eyes.
"Mom, what happened?" Peg was the more reasoning child of mine. Mother wasn't in Kansas anymore.
"The gods put me through a wringer today. That's the last I'll discuss it. But if I learned anything from it, I'll go to the hells before I let you two act up again." Passion infused my voice instead of anger.
"Uh - Mom, I can kinda see your-" My son clamped his lips tight. His eyes however were glued to my chest!
I flung an arm around the shadows which my veiled nipples left on the thin blouse, but I didn't back down. "Hush! Go back to your rooms, and I don't want to hear another peep from you!"
"We haven't had supper-" Peg started, but when she saw me raise my hand, she backed away.
Ridley nearly turned and ran. His sister wasn't far behind when he disappeared around the hallway entrance.
I sank my knees into the couch and hugged the plush back, resting my face on the soft top. I wanted to cry, but I was past that. Eventually, I rose up and went George's and my bedroom. I drew a bath in our private room and soaked naked, the day's horror stirring my emotions like a whirlwind.
A long while later, George entered our bedroom. He moved like a zombie. "George?"
"There you are." He shuffled up to the open bathroom door. He was quite pale, obviously wanting to speak but unable.
I curled forward, knees covering my chest. "Now's not the time." I shut him down further. "Perhaps we can talk tomorrow."
We slept on opposite sides of our king sized bed that night. I huddled under a separate blanket, wearing pajamas and a gown over them. I couldn't handle the concept of George seeing me naked.
That he was bewildered enough to sleep away from me, I found odd even for his typical reluctance to enter conflict. That was both our troubles and why our children ran rampant. I'd known this for years but had never mustered the chutzpa to correct the situation. He also understood our mutual weakness and had similar motivation issues. I always thought we made the perfect couple.
One insatiable black man, old and fat, had shattered that foolish notion.
I woke up groggy and squinting from bright sunlight. I was alone in the room. I checked the clock. It was nearly nine. Rising and hauling my legs off the side of the bed, I got up and pressed my feet into a pair of slippers.
Angry shouts from the kitchen filtered through the bedroom door. I clutched the blanket around me like armor over my gown and pajamas and went out into the hall.
"***! We're late for school!" Ridley worried!
"You'll drive us today, right?" Peg accused. "It's your fault for not making breakfast sooner." Cowing their father into giving a ride to school was one of the few times the children joined forces for mutual gain.
"George. You're driving straight to work." I entered looking haggard but feeling more alive than usual. The kids' attitudes fell away at my surprise presence. "Peg! Ridley!" I called sharply. "School will have to wait for you to walk there." I glared at them. "Each of you are perfectly capable of making a simple meal, hopefully without burning down the place. Now fetch your things and go."
"But I'm not finish-"
I stabbed arm, hand, and finger at the hallway. "Go."
Our two teens slipped out of their chairs and stepped far around me to reach their rooms. Ridley unconsciously touched his left cheek.
George looked up from the table. "How did you do that?"
"Anger, George." I sat in Ridley's chair and began to eat was was left on his plate.
"I can't imagine what you're going through." He tried sounding sincere, but he could never lie convincingly, let alone his wife of nearly twenty years. Something was troubling him.
"Why were you so late getting home?"
"Oh." Panic flared in his eyes. "I decided to stop-"
"Don't lie to me, George. I'm not going to divorce you even if you stabbed a salesclerk on the way home."
"That." He tried to endrun the issue. "I was at my wit's end, yesterday. I never should have said that."
I hissed my nose at him and finished the food on the plate in front of me. Without taking my accusing eyes off of my reluctant husband, I reached over the table and grabbed Peg's plate.
He picked at his food. Peg and Ridley came from the hall and cautiously shuffled out the front door.
George's head tilted at their reserved obedience. He next hung his head and mumbled. "That man - at the hotel. He- He-" George's body shook. His voice wheezed. "...explained."
"Who, the hotel manager?"
"No." He unexpectedly squeaked. "The m-man who ... attacked you."
Gods! My strength drained. The stranger had done more than talked to George. That much was obvious from the whimpers George emitted while trying to hide his tears.
"George!" I blurted with the last of my bluster. "What happened? You have to tell me."
"It's too shameful." He shook his head.
"What did you do? I promise, I can handle it." After yesterday's gauntlet of humiliation, I was ready for anything.
"I went back to the room." He wheezed.
"No." My head shook. "What were you thinking?"
"I found my phone. The glass was cracked but still worked. I blamed him. I went up the stairs..."
***
George was pumped up to investigate. Curiosity, great concern for my wellbeing, and just enough remorse for his phone, gave him stupid courage to knock on door 23. "I'm her husband. I demand to talk with you, or I'm calling the police." He thought he had all the power.
The door opened, the stranger stood sneering, a unamused, naked titan assessing my five foot, eight inch husband. "Yeah? What's your name?" His question had more force than George's demand.
"Uh, George."
"Hmph." The old black sneered. "Yeah, that's right." He had heard me call my husband's name into my phone. Sneer notwithstanding, the stranger held out his hand to be shaken. My name's Leland. Tell the cops it's Leland Jones. They have a file for me. There's not much in it, but you can verify my mug shots when they want your testimony."
Leland Jones held his hand steady before him. It wasn't an offer to refuse. "But first you're gonna have to get your wife to press charges."
George was foolish to grasp the hand, still confident he had the edge.
Leland didn't crush my husband's hand, but he made it clear that physically messing with him was going to be very painful for George. "One thing I guarantee, George, is the hotel manager will swear that she hired the room on her own accord. I wasn't even in the office when she handed her card to him."
"Colleen was under a lot of stress. I'm sure good lawyer will find just means to charge a man who took advantage of a severely depressed woman." George was doing his best to sustain his foolish notion of having the advantage.
"That's her name? Colleen?" Leland Jones picked his nose and flicked the snot at my husband. "Get in here." He reached out, grabbed George by the elbow and dragged him into the room. "I was getting a draft." The naked old, heavy man shut the door and locked the additional bolt.
"That's assault." George accused.
"No, it's not." Leland scoffed. "Touching is battery." He guarded the door. "Now sit down, and let's talk real good." He used poor grammar as a threat.
Before he could stop himself, George sat on the foot of the bed stained by his wife's and the black man's juices.
"I took a liking to your wife when I first saw her." Leland began. "When I found out she was a push-over, I drove her here, and we fucked." He chuckled. "I should say, I fucked her."
George's eyes had been straining to look away from the black man's dangling dick. But Leland's confession drew his eyes to the prize still gooey from my pussy and a stranger's cum.
"You abused her." My husband found that he couldn't meet my assailant's eyes while accusing the black man.
"Probably, but she left of her free will. You witnessed that. Has she called the cops?"
"I'll convince her. She's not like women of your generation who were too frightened to speak up about being ***** because the legal system was stacked against them."
"You speak real pretty, George." Leland's sneer widened. "But why are you talking to my big black dick?"
George's head jerked up. He eyes met Leland's shining orbs, and his heart shrank before them. He averted his gaze to the door. "I have nothing else to say." He stood up and took one step to the exit.
Leland pushed him just right to send George's butt back on the bed. "Why leave when the conversation was just getting interesting?"
George's last hurrah was to pull out his phone and try to emergency dial, 911.
Leland predictably slapped the cracked phone out of my husband's hand. "You got a pretty mouth, George. Why waste it on the cops?"
"Let me go." George bolted up from the bed, but the large black man caught him and carried him back, plopping my husband down like a sack of pork rinds.
"Now I'm gonna talk, George. You try anything else, and I won't be so gentle." Leland asserted.
The last of poor George's will shrank into a mote. "This is crazy, Leland. You're just making it worse for you." He tried reasoning with the oppressive man.
Leland growled. "From now on, Georgie Porgie, you will address me as Mr. Jones. That's the first thing I have to tell you. Got that?"
George had lost the ability to meet his captor's eyes. "Sure. Whatever." He promised himself never to speak any name for the black man.
"Second-" Leland's laugh interrupted himself. "You're looking at my prick again. You got some kind of queer backstory?"
"No!" George blurted then mumbled. "I just wish you'd put on some clothes."
"Then why do I think a man with such a pretty mouth must have had a few experiments which put his pretty mouth to good use?"
George urgently wanted to persist with denial, but he found himself trying to reason with the utterly unreasonable old man. "That was long before I married, just a couple times. Kids in my generation were nearly encouraged to explore. I love my wife, and we are very happy together."
"Oh, so the truth comes out. Now all you got to do is admit you enjoyed it."
"I'm not going to say anything more until you let me out of here." It was my husband's last line of defense, and it failed horribly.
"Good, I was getting bored of the conversation too." Leland strode up to George, grabbed his hair, and shook his head.
My husband screamed from a pain he'd never experienced before! "Let me go!"
Leland hefted his cock and aimed the soft length at my husband's wide mouth. "I thought you said you were done talking. Let me help you with that." He jammed his prick head into George's lips, but it was met by clamped teeth.
"Why'd you make your lips ugly all of a sudden?" Leland slapped my husband's face with the end of his heavy dick. He shook George's head harder. "Open up, George, and you better not bite. I'll break your fucking neck!"
The pain in his skull was torture for my mild-mannered husband. His guttering willpower couldn't muster further resistance. George opened his mouth, and Mr. Jones stuffed his soft length into my husband's face!
"That's much better." Leland eased his grip. "Now I'll give you a moment to let my cock soak before I tell you to start sucking." He had jammed nearly half of his prick past George's lips!
George's defeated eyes swung up, pleading for mercy from the black man's cold expression. An awful taste from the gagging pecker made his stomach churn. But he was helpless to prevent what was being forced upon him.
"That's long enough." Leland grinned. "Now start sucking, and I'd appreciate more than a little tongue."
Against his will, George's mouth and tongue began working, anything to prevent hair being torn from his scalp!
"Yeah, you probably only sucked a couple times, like you said - long in the past. But you'll get the hang of it again."
My husband gagged as the fat meat in his mouth hardened and lengthened. The end grew to block his gullet which began convulsing painfully. He couldn't breathe!
Leland's free hand slapped my husband's cheek, producing more sound than pain. Still the sting grabbed his attention and broke his will further. "You don't throw up on me, right? Hold that back a little bit longer, and I'll make it easier for you. I kinda like how your throat is struggling against my prick head."
George gagged for endless seconds while trying to keep his stomach from erupting. His tongue flailed randomly against the underside of the suffocating mass.
"Ahhhh!" Leland pulled two inches from my husband's face. "Catch your breath for a bit, and we'll start again."
George gasped and heaved lungfuls of air. The prick stuffed into his mouth kept getting longer, fatter, and harder. It would soon fill the gap which his assailant had given.
Before my husband's need for air was sated fully, Leland clenched the hair in his hand, tight! George groaned but his expression of agony was cut off by the massive head growing behind his tongue. "Suck it harder, Bitch!" Leland jabbed his prick deeper.
George convulsed from imminent asphyxiation. He forced himself to suck harder, unable to do anything but follow the old, black man's orders.
"Yeah! That's the ticket!" Leland roared! He let go of my husband's hair and stepped back, six inches of black snake plopping out of the poor man's croaking throat!
George gasped again, desperate to catch air and survive the next few seconds. His vision had dimmed to near darkness, with only pinholes to look through. The one thing he could see was the fully erect length and wide of Leland Jone's mighty cock!
"Yeah, that'll do nicely, you gay bitch." Leland took himself in hand and slowly jerked. "Now what have you to say?"
George had begun to weep when he was choking for the second time. He burst into heaving sobs aided by his ongoing need for oxygen.
"I can't hear if you're saying anything." Leland slapped his hard dick across my husband's cheeks, smacking him twice, once in each direction. "Talk to me, or I'll stuff your gob again."
"I- <hhh> can't h-handle this. You almost killed me. Let me go!"
"RRRNNNKKK!! Wrong speech, mouth pussy boy. This is where you thank me for helping you relive bygone days of happy faggoting."
George hung his head and wept. His sobs faded as his lungs caught their breath.
CRACK! A heavy, black hand crashed against my husband's skull! "Thank me, Faggot, and you better address me proper!"
"Thank you, Mr. Jones." Poor, broken George wailed abruptly, no longer able to think - just obey.
"For what, Mouth Cunt?" Leland leered down from his great height advantage.
"For letting me suck you."
"Suck what and why? Make me believe you mean it!" The black man slapped George's face again, but just enough to encourage a proper response.
My broken husband started from scratch, praying that the man would finally let him go, if he said it right. "Thank you - Mr. Jones - for letting me suck your big, black, cock and for helping me relive the joy of sucking a man's dick."
"Okay then, you're very welcome." Leland answered with a helping of sarcasm. "You can speak real pretty-like when you try. It makes your mouth look like a hungry cunt when you talk like that, but where are my manners? I need to thank you."
George didn't dare ask why, but too he worried that he might be punished for not asking.
"Thank you, Pussy Mouth, for making my dick about as hard as it gets!" The black man laughed. "Now we can put it to even more fun of a use!"
"NOO!" George shouted in terror!
"What, you never took it up the butt before?" The fat old man scratched his head. "I guess some faggots just like to suck a cock." He shrugged. "Maybe I should offer you an alternative."
The unspoken 'alternative' terrified George worse than getting ass-fucked!" The blood in his face drained completely away. He grimaced with lips open. His head shook slowly side to side.
Leland's wicked grin returned. He bent down and picked up George's phone. Straightening, he held it out to him. "Take this and unlock it for me, George. I don't mind it's cracked, and you were going to get a new phone anyway." The black man reminded, "Do it for me, and you can take your butt virginity out that door, never to return."
Sure! George had to restrain himself from grabbing the phone too quickly. He pressed his finger to the main button. "Now I just have to erase it. Won't take long."
Like a diving eagle, Leland snatched the phone from my husband's shaking hands. "Fuck that. Now git!" He commanded.
My husband's eyes nearly exploded when he realized what he was giving to the man who had ***** his mouth! To remove the vast information of his personal life, was now impossible.
The heavy set, black man could mop the floor with his face while stiffing his colon with the largest, fattest, cock he'd ever seen. With a cry of mental anguish, he dashed to the door, fumbled with the lock, finally unlatched it, opened it, leaped outside, bent over suddenly, and puked his guts out. A chuckling old black man, wanking slowly on his big cock, kicked the door shut, sending my husband wailing into the night!
I could only shake my head at the end of my devastated husband's tale.
"I'm going to press charges, Colleen. I need you to back up my story. We'll put that villain behind bars where he belongs!"
Going to the police was an enticing fantasy, but I could never face Leland Jones ever again. I would break down and say anything to clear him of wrongdoing. More important matters wedged into my thoughts. George was late for work. It wasn't a big deal, but it would stain a spotless record of attendance. It was my excuse to tell him. "You head to work, George. I'll try to figure out what I can tell the police."
"I love you, Colleen." He launched himself from the kitchen table, kissed my cheek, and headed for his briefcase and keys at the front door.
When the front door shut behind him, I slumped in Ridley's chair, suddenly realizing how much I'd eaten. There wasn't a scrap left on the table. I might even have stolen George's remaining bites from his plate!
I too had a job, one that let me work from home. It was part-time work as a customer service rep for a traditional chain of high-end clothing and cosmetics, but I worked for their also-ran, online store.
George called me at lunch, and I picked up my phone without thinking.
The baritone voice sounded as powerfully as ever. "Colleen, I checked out of the hotel, but I need a ride to the Social Security office. Bastards are holding back my checks!"
My free hand flew up, fingers frantic to stab the disconnect button, but it merely hovered over the red circle.
"I-I can't." I heard myself speak into the microphone. "I'm working." It wasn't really a lie. While I was technically taking a lunch, I'd have to sign into the call board in just a few minutes.
"Shit. I might not make it there in time, if I had to bus to your house, on 1377 Waverly St. in order to borrow your car."
Of course he knew our address. He had access to every iota of information on my husband's phone.
"Please, Mr. Jones, just leave me and my husband alone. Haven't you done enough to us?" I started babbling. "He wants to press charges, but if you promise to go away, I'll promise he never will."
"So that's the way you're gonna be." Leland's sigh sounded fake even through the cell connection. "And after all the fun we had, yesterday."
"That was a nightmare!" My voice nearly broke into unabashed anger.
"Maybe it was for you, on the surface, but I think you aren't being honest with yourself. Deep down, you need what I can give to you."
My mind suddenly reflected on my behavior when I returned home the night before. I confronted my children's constant bickering and got them to shut up. I'd never been able to do that, not until- A cold shiver ran down my spine.
"You're not making any sense. It was horrible!" I persisted.
But he had me talking, and he knew, unless I hung up, he would win the victory eventually. Deep down, I may have known that too.
"Let's cut the bullshit." He attacked. "You're not going to charge me, and without you, your husband can't make his case." He waited, but I didn't respond.
"I understand you don't want me dropping by your home. You've got two beautiful kids, and it might twist their minds if they interrupted us."
Bastard! Of course George had pictures of us and the kids! I fumed on the inside, but I couldn't draw on my anger to form words. The idea of Peg and Ridley finding me pinned by an old, black man's cock, no matter how large, was too terrifying!
George would divorce me, and I would never see my kids again. Cold certainty forced me to ask for the address of Leland's destination. I had my doubts about the Social Security office. My ****** didn't look or act like the minimum age to receive payments. Perhaps he had lied to the administration and forged his paperwork.
That wasn't my problem, I told myself during the drive back to that awful hotel!
Tears of helplessness formed in my eyes when I saw him flag down my Volvo. I pulled up at the curb, and he opened the driver side door. "It's bad manners for a man to let a woman drive." He asserted.
...to be continued...
The Bad Place
Chapter 4
I scooted over to the passenger side and wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket. I had worn loose jeans with buttons in front and a sturdy belt looped through it. Under my sweater, I wore a tank top under a thick woolen shirt. The car's air conditioner blasted on maximum.
He slid in and shut the door. "Glad to see me, are you?" He'd noticed me wipe my tears.
I said nothing and looked out my window.
"I'm glad this ain't your husband's car, too many fancy controls. This classic is just my speed." He belted himself in, but when I reached for mine. He slapped my shoulder, "Not yet, you got work to do."
A panic took me. I fumbled to unlock my door, preferring to flee my own car than be subjected again to the old, black man's evil desires. I would rush into the motel office. He couldn't do anything to me in front of the clerk.
Leland simply stabbed his foot on the gas. My old Volvo leaped forward like half a sports car! "You keep this antique in good shape, Colleen." He called my name as if it were the secret to controlling me. When we hit the speed limit, he let off the gas and drove at the posted 30MPH. "I said you owed me, Colleen. This ride here is one of them favors. But I recall doing two for you. Now take out my dick and use both hands. I want it good and strong before we get to Social Security.
I felt like crying but self-loathing kept tears at bay when my hands reached for his dirty pants and unzipped them. He scooted up in his seat to give me 'working' room.
It didn't take long for his full length and girth to sprout between his belly and the steering wheel. "Thanks, Darlin'." Leland scanned the road carefully. He spotted a corner strip mall with a driveway in back. Slowing and steering cautiously, he turned into the driveway and parked behind one of the stores.
"Now do the other half of what you owe me."
The taste of his dick was mild, but hints of his cum and my pussy remained or was that flavor a product of trauma induced imagination? Before putting the fat head in my mouth I remembered my husband's mouth had suffered Leland's beast. My self-directed anger found a new outlet, and I gulped down the big dick which had humiliated George.
The old man hadn't bothered to shower since then. I washed it with plenty of spit. My hands rubbed the drool from my mouth, up and down the part of his black shaft that didn't fit my oral cavity.
"Say, you're pretty lively down there." The black man sounded amused and a little curious. "You getting to like my crowbar, ain't ya?"
My mouth was too crammed with black dick to tell him how much I hated him and how I hated his fuck stick worse! I almost sucked him faster from rage, but he would have misinterpreted. My motivation was to get him off quickly! I forced myself to slow down. It was the one option I had to deny his question.
"Hnngh. Maybe I'm wrong about that, but you don't get to slack off, Bitch. Actually, stop for a second and strip everything you got on top. I want a crack at your mommy titties when you suck me proper again."
When I pulled away from his glistening prick, he unbuckled his seatbelt, to give himself working room.
I didn't bother with buttons. I stretched my sweater and wool shirt that day, peeling them up and over my head and arms. The halter top was made for that kind of abuse, but unhitching my bra slowed me, partly because the dirty old man pawed at its cups the moment they appeared.
"Damn, I like how they bulge that harness..." He paused briefly to let me pull the straps down my arms. "And I like how they hang naked." His delight fooled me. Suddenly he gripped my hair and pulled my face back down to his shining prick! "You better give as good as you did when you started, or I'll pull your nipples off."
I opened my mouth in time to be impaled by two extra inches than when I first gulped down his black shaft. Its head clogged the back of my throat, and I lurched before I could control the reflex.
"Yeah, choke a little. I like how that feels." He reminded, but he let go of my hair. His hands returned to my tits and he groped and tweaked them so roughly it felt like he would rip my nipples off or at least rasp them with his fingernails until they bled.
I strived to make him cum way before then, but I couldn't concentrate on a steady suck rhythm while he was stabbing and twisting my sensitive juggs. Sharp bites made me shudder and pause my oral action. My hands kept stroking and spreading spit. He groaned when my tongue swept across his pee hole.
Taking a cue from his enjoyment of gagging a throat, I alternated between huffing deep breaths and cramming my mouth down on his rigid pole, clenching my throat against his rubbery prick head.
"Are you sure you didn't whore around before marrying that doofus?"
This time, I let my anger goad me into stabbing my head against his black dick as fast as I could. My hands gripped the dark shaft tighter while rubbing furiously!
"Whoa!" He roared. "That'll do it, you sucking bitch!" His hands left my tits and grabbed the sides of his bucket seat.
He was on the verge, but I didn't dare slow down! I dropped my right hand to his ball sack and tugged.
"Holy gods of Earth!" He shouted. My left fingers felt the first rush of cum fire through his big cannon! I pulled my throat free from the black mass clogging it, just in time to gulp down that fiery bolt! I had to suck and swallow even faster to keep up with his repeating shooter. Thick wads rocked my uvula and plastered the back of my gullet. I gulped and gulped his prodigious spend!
"Fuck and suck, Bitch!" Leland's lap rocked beneath me. "You're gonna get sweet on big black cock before you know it!"
I felt fingers comb my hair. The last bolts of spunk were followed by a thick stream which took its time to slow and cease. I had managed to drink nearly all of Leland's ejaculate. My lips were cum coated, but they were only things stained by his climax in the car.
He huffed and puffed, holding my head to his expended pecker but not pressing. "Colleen," Leland Jones admitted. "I'm gonna need your white ass and lips and tits from time to time. You know that."
I held still. The spoken truth met my resignation to it, in the pit of my guts.
He didn't need to hear me acknowledge his assertion. His fingers took me by the hair and lifted my head off of his cum and spit washed prick.
The graying, black man packed his softening cock into his pants and zipped them up. He grasp the buckle at his left shoulder and drew the belt across his thick body.
I picked up my bra.
"Fuck that, Colleen. Throw your tops behind your seat." He latched his seatbelt with a sharp clack!
"But you're going to drive again!"
"And your gonna wear your seatbelt proper, this time. It ain't safe to go without." Sarcastic sternness masked his amusement.
I never blushed so hard nor cringed so tightly, head bowed to my breastbone. He hummed a desolate, soul standard and drove the remaining distance to a government styled building. The sign read, "Social Security Administration."
I had to show some resistance when he pulled into the nearly full parking lot. "You're sixty two?"
"Sixty. My wife was three years older when she passed."
I wasn't sorry for him but maybe a little for her.
He parked in the far back of the lot, between two cars with government plates.
Just a minute. Simple math was part of my job. The ages he mentioned, applied to the rules of social security benefits, determined that his wife must have died recently.
It's not like I was going to enter into a discussion. I just wanted to know when I would be free of the old ******.
Leland unbuckled his belt and got out of the car, leaving the engine running. "I'll call you soon." He strode away humming that haunting tune.
Call me all you like, you old bastard! I felt the return of precious confidence. The moment Leland had hung up, after blackmailing me, I called George and raged at him to cancel his phone's service.
It took me a minute to put my clothes back on. I hurried in case some mishap with the system forced Leland to leave the building.
Hopping into the driver seat, I looked behind me and steered the car in reverse. I breathed deeply when I was out of the lot and speeding five MPH over the posted limit. Stopping to refuel, I bought a lousy sandwich with hardly any meat, and a hard frozen, chocolate coated ice cream bar. Biting it hurt my teeth.
Peg and Ridley emerged at the hall entrance when I arrived home. They peeked around the corner to judge my mood.
"Homework." I glared at them, and they retreated.
George returned from work half an hour earlier than usual. "Honey? I cancelled my phone's service." It was his gambit to get around my tirade of a phone call.
I stopped in the middle of tying a roast, washed my hands, and headed to the hallway. "Meet me in our bedroom, George." I spoke formally.
He entered, a few steps behind me, and closed the door, anticipating another rant.
I turned around and began unfastening his clothes. "You are the man I love, and I hope you never think otherwise."
"Sweetheart!" He gasped and hugged me, my hands smashed between my clothed breasts and his half open shirt.
I became my husband's whore for the ensuing hour. I sucked and rode him and fingered his asshole until he had cum twice! He had never experienced me as a dominant parter who forced herself on him. We had role played dom and sub games, but it was more pretend than compelling theater.
"Honey, that was incredible." He panted beside me on our bed. "Should I light a cigarette for you?"
That he could make such a joke, only increased my love for him. The previous day's nightmare hadn't fully broken him, or at least he was on the mend.
"Maybe put a candle in the window, when I'm not here to prove that I'll never leave you." When you speak from the heart, you are most likely to sound utterly idiotic.
"Colleen, what do you mean?"
"I mean, George, that there'll be times ahead when I have no choice but to be far away from home. I'm not going to spell it out. I already hate myself for admitting it, but you have a right to know that I'm going to be unfaithful, which cannot be forgiven even when it's against my will.
"I guessed after hearing from you, that he had called you. He's blackmailing you."
"Not in a way that can be prosecuted."
"Do you want to charge him?" He hoped aloud.
"I want him to rot in a bare-walled cell, gang-banged by prison gangs."
"But you won't."
"I can't, My Love. The process would destroy me."
He fell silent, respecting my voice of utter certainty. Perhaps he realized how harsh the criminal system is on plaintiffs. Accusers don't have a bill of rights protecting them from persecution. It's one of the reasons women rarely charged their rapists before the modern era. Too many still don't.
"I have no idea how to cope with that." He nearly wept.
A young hand rapped on our door. "Mom, can I make a sandwich?" Ridley asked.
"Tell Peg to wrap up the roast and put it in the fridge. I'll come out in a bit, and fix something better and quicker." We kept emergency, organic frozen dinners in our freezer.
I held my husband's hand and looked into his eyes. "Events have given me a split personality. Think of it that way. One side of me will hurt you badly. The other will do her utmost to soothe your suffering. If you can love me enough to withstand the hurting, I will do my best to break free of our tormentor.
"I will try." Wet eyes and bit lip assured his promise.
Rising from the bed, and holding back my tears, I put on my houserobe and left my husband, to feed our kids.
In the days that followed, I was haunted, expecting Leland to jump out from bushes and garbage trucks! He knew our address, but my husband's phone could no longer track mine. Nor could it call me.
Before a week had passed, Leland called my phone from an unidentified number. My phone shunted the unrecognized call to voicemail. I didn't know it was him until his unexpectedly reasonable voice spoke in my ear.
"You're officially a whore, today. I had to spend a lot to get a new service for this phone. Pick me up in downtown." He rattled off an intersection that was actually at the edge of downtown. "Tomorrow at seven, or I'll see you the next day, much earlier. We're gonna fuck and talk. Wear something a whore would wear."
The threat was clear. If I didn't meet him, he would come to my ******'s home!
At breakfast the next day, after shooing Peg and Ridley out to school, I told George. "I'm going out tonight. Don't come home early. I don't want to see you before I leave."
He stopped eating, and his throat clenched. "I-I see." His posture slowly slumped while he stared at his plate, unable to make eye contact.
I grabbed his hand. "I'll be home as soon as I can. I'll do anything then, to ease your pain."
"No sex."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't want to have sex with you - after-"
"Whatever you want." I felt my own throat constrict. My earnest hope to manage our marriage under horrific circumstances had no basis in reality. "I'm absolutely certain that if I ignore him, he will make our lives worse."
"I don't believe that, but I also believe that you may be right and I'm wrong." He said quietly. His fingers intertwined with mine. This was the way we handled conflict. It worked great for fifteen years.
The kids came home on time and immediately began arguing. I was looking through my closet for clothes which might show that I had at least tried to dress like a whore. There was no way I would put on the skimpy and tight things that prostitues in movies wore. I did apply quite a bit of makeup.
"You gotta stop being mean to me, Peg-neg." Ridley accused. "That's why Mom is acting up and hitting us."
"I'm only mean to you because you're such a snot hole. You're always in my way or taking my stuff."
"I give your stuff back. Mom won't buy girls shoes for me."
"Don't you hear how sick that sounds? You're a freak!"
"You're a butt head!"
"Stop it!" I shouted standing in my doorway at the end of the hall.
My quarreling son and ******** went silent but stared at me. I told them. "If you don't have homework, Peg you clean the kitchen. Ridley, you scrub the bathroom. I'll check in an hour."
"Mom." Ridley confronted me. "What did you do to your face?"
"Yeah, Mom. You look like you fell headfirst against a paint pallet."
In the heat of my frustration at my children's endless bickering, I had forgotten about the makeup on my face.
"I'm testing some product." I lied.
"It looks nasty, Mom." My son grimaced.
"Trashy, more like." Peg took pride in her greater vocabulary and for getting a lick in against me. She nearly purred from putting me down.
I couldn't punish them for what was my fault. I fumed for a second. "Get started with your chores. Now I'll wear this face all night just to annoy you."
"Slip on some sexy clothes, and maybe *** will treat you special tonight." Peg winked. She didn't mean any harm, but I started shouting. "Your father is a wonderful man, and you should respect him more!"
Son and ******** dashed away to get buckets and soap and scrubbers from the utility closet. I shrank back into my room. What should have sparked a mood breaking laugh had put a lump in my throat. Poor George.
Freshly miserable, I picked out a short, fairly tight skirt and some bikini panties. I wore an under-bra beneath a silky green top. The skirt was dark brown wool. I looked like a whore for Smokey the Bear. I didn't own any high heels, but I put on my tallest, block heels that were black.
Checking on the kids' efforts had been another lie and a means to motivate them. Before either of them finished, I sneaked out of the house and drove to downtown.
It was only 5pm. Half an hour later, I arrived near the intersection and waited in the car. A lot of people were leaving for home, and I had plenty of choices for a parking spot. I found one on Seth St., half a block down from the intersection.
The area was sketchy. There weren't many derelicts, but I saw more than one prostitute cross the street and ply the sidewalk. My clothes were Amish by comparison. I texted the ****** info-board, which was a computer tablet set up in the kitchen. It could play music while displaying various scenery: plants, landscapes, cities... But it was internet capable and would display an email directed to it.
"I had to drive downtown to return the cosmetics. I may do some shopping while I'm here." I had to get a dig in. "The more you two fight, the more I don't want to be home." That partial lie also explained my recent, abnormal absences.
To distract myself from the sadness around me, I played a silly game on my phone, wasting time.
Tap-tap-tap.
I lurched in my seat so hard, I dropped the phone. Looking in the driver's window, a dark face put breath steam on the glass. "Hey, Sexy, you working tonight?" The middle-age, hispanic man had a light accent.
"NO!" I tried not to shout, but I was emphatic. Of course, the car was fully locked with the windows all the way up.
"I got twenty bucks for a blowjob. It'll be quick in your car."
"I-I'm waiting for my man." I hoped to intimidate the insistent but probably harmless John. "He should be here any minute."
"So you got a pimp? I talk to him."
"That bitch nothing but trouble, Mister." A new man appeared, a 20s white dude dressed to look as hood-dude as possible. "I got better ho's. Let me introduce you." The white pimp tugged on the man's shirt sleeve. The John gave me a look that asked, "Trouble, huh?" He followed the white dude away.
I picked up my phone. It was 6:41.
BAM! Five minutes later a fist struck my window. "Get out of here, Bitch! This is my street!"
The white dude had returned and was livid at my presence.
I lurched away from the window and babbled anxiously. "I'm not a hooker! I'm waiting for a friend. Please, I didn't ask that guy to talk. I was just playing a game on my phone! I tried to get rid of him! I didn't know anything about this street. Look, I'm married to a wonderful man!" I showed him my rings.
The dude scratched stubble on his jaw, contemplating my words. "Nah. Can't have you interrupting traffic." He meant Johns. "Cops haven't been told to scrub this street. So it's prime real estate." He glowered at me. "You a cop?"
"Sir, I'm just a housewife with a part-time job online."
His eyes began to roam my seated figure. "Got some nice titties there. You have kids?"
I nodded shyly, thinking he'd be less interested.
"Let me see your tits. Maybe I get you better pay, part-time."
"Please, I couldn't!"
"Show him your fucking tits, Lisa!" A deep voice sang through the opposite window. It was Leland. He'd called me Lisa, and I understood. Blushing darkly, I pulled down my top and revealed my breasts by pushing up the under-bra. The wire stiffened edge of the supporting cups, ended at just under my dark nipples.
"Huh." The white pimp said blandly. "I think you lied about kids, or maybe you didn't let them suck your milk. Them'll bring a good tenner for a boob job."
I cringed, ironically wishing Leland would protect me.
"She's no whore, not like you peddle, Jason." Leland struck the roof of my car with a fist. "I called her here for a lesson."
"Loretta?" The dude grinned suddenly.
"How much for an hour, no sex, maybe show her tits and twat for a little bit?"
"Fifty."
"I'll pay thirty, and I won't touch her."
"Thirty five, and you get forty five minutes."
"All right. I'll give you that. But the clock don't start until we're in a room."
The two men met at front of my car, where Leland passed a roll of bills to Jason.
"Maybe you looking for some toot? This is genuine, old school, not too hype."
"I stopped that shit."
"Yeah, well Loretta may want some."
"That's your concern."
Jason snorted. "I'll bring her to The Stadium. You better be there first or I take another tenner. Clock starts when you got a key in your hand." He ambled down the street.
"Out of the car, Lily." Leland shouted. "Nobody gonna fuck with that Swede box. Jason's good a keeping riff-raff off of his street."
My tormentor had saved me but for what? The word 'lesson' was my only clue. Was he hiring a hooker to teach me something? I got out of the car and checked the doors were locked. I pulled my top and bra back in place.
He fumed, "Got no time for your shy streak." He marched up to me and took my arm. "You look like the stupidest whore ever." I stumbled alongside him to the intersection and down the cross street.
The Stadium was a five story hotel about two rooms wide, stuck between other hotels just like it. Two very scary black dudes stood on the sidewalk watching both ways down the street. Leland walked me in a hurry, ignoring them. He stopped in front of the steps leading into the hotel.
"Yo, Nigga." One of the thugs called to Leland. "You don't squat here with a bitch we don't know."
"Jason's bringing Loretta."
The thug's lip curled at the sound of her name. "Tell you what. You give me the white bitch while you play with that old bag."
"I would, but I didn't pay Jason enough."
"I got a nickle." The other thug snorted. "Any more for that beat up twat is wasted money."
"I tol' you, Leland, the married, white cunt's got potential." Jason strode up. Next to him walked a short black woman. Her tits and ass were nearly as wide as she was tall. A plastic, purple halter showed her cleavage and under-boobs. She had a matching purple thong, but it was made of polyester satin. She wore white sandals with heels that put he on the tips of her toes.
Her trashy garb only worked against her attractiveness. She looked older than Leland. I was pretty sure it was from miles rather than age. Her belly and thighs had a lot of nasty scars. Her face was crooked, and her nose had definitely been broken long ago. She had pluck, despite her worn looks. Taking one glance at me, she scoffed. "You trying to be a pimp now, Leland?"
"You know I'd be a shit one, Loretta." Leland tapped his left shoe's toe on the pocked sidewalk.
"You smarter than this white nigger." She rolled her eyes from Leland to Jason.
"Why you make me need to smack you, Bitch?" The white dude didn't however.
"Making sure you don't get lazy." She answered. I suspected she had a smart answer for everything. Her eyes returned to Leland. "Jason said somethin' about a lesson."
"Stop jabbering and go do the thing." Jason pulled out his phone. "I'm gonna start forty five right now."
"Come on." Leland tugged my arm, but upon reaching the top of the stairs, he opened the door for her. I had to enter last.
...to be continued...
I scooted over to the passenger side and wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket. I had worn loose jeans with buttons in front and a sturdy belt looped through it. Under my sweater, I wore a tank top under a thick woolen shirt. The car's air conditioner blasted on maximum.
He slid in and shut the door. "Glad to see me, are you?" He'd noticed me wipe my tears.
I said nothing and looked out my window.
"I'm glad this ain't your husband's car, too many fancy controls. This classic is just my speed." He belted himself in, but when I reached for mine. He slapped my shoulder, "Not yet, you got work to do."
A panic took me. I fumbled to unlock my door, preferring to flee my own car than be subjected again to the old, black man's evil desires. I would rush into the motel office. He couldn't do anything to me in front of the clerk.
Leland simply stabbed his foot on the gas. My old Volvo leaped forward like half a sports car! "You keep this antique in good shape, Colleen." He called my name as if it were the secret to controlling me. When we hit the speed limit, he let off the gas and drove at the posted 30MPH. "I said you owed me, Colleen. This ride here is one of them favors. But I recall doing two for you. Now take out my dick and use both hands. I want it good and strong before we get to Social Security.
I felt like crying but self-loathing kept tears at bay when my hands reached for his dirty pants and unzipped them. He scooted up in his seat to give me 'working' room.
It didn't take long for his full length and girth to sprout between his belly and the steering wheel. "Thanks, Darlin'." Leland scanned the road carefully. He spotted a corner strip mall with a driveway in back. Slowing and steering cautiously, he turned into the driveway and parked behind one of the stores.
"Now do the other half of what you owe me."
The taste of his dick was mild, but hints of his cum and my pussy remained or was that flavor a product of trauma induced imagination? Before putting the fat head in my mouth I remembered my husband's mouth had suffered Leland's beast. My self-directed anger found a new outlet, and I gulped down the big dick which had humiliated George.
The old man hadn't bothered to shower since then. I washed it with plenty of spit. My hands rubbed the drool from my mouth, up and down the part of his black shaft that didn't fit my oral cavity.
"Say, you're pretty lively down there." The black man sounded amused and a little curious. "You getting to like my crowbar, ain't ya?"
My mouth was too crammed with black dick to tell him how much I hated him and how I hated his fuck stick worse! I almost sucked him faster from rage, but he would have misinterpreted. My motivation was to get him off quickly! I forced myself to slow down. It was the one option I had to deny his question.
"Hnngh. Maybe I'm wrong about that, but you don't get to slack off, Bitch. Actually, stop for a second and strip everything you got on top. I want a crack at your mommy titties when you suck me proper again."
When I pulled away from his glistening prick, he unbuckled his seatbelt, to give himself working room.
I didn't bother with buttons. I stretched my sweater and wool shirt that day, peeling them up and over my head and arms. The halter top was made for that kind of abuse, but unhitching my bra slowed me, partly because the dirty old man pawed at its cups the moment they appeared.
"Damn, I like how they bulge that harness..." He paused briefly to let me pull the straps down my arms. "And I like how they hang naked." His delight fooled me. Suddenly he gripped my hair and pulled my face back down to his shining prick! "You better give as good as you did when you started, or I'll pull your nipples off."
I opened my mouth in time to be impaled by two extra inches than when I first gulped down his black shaft. Its head clogged the back of my throat, and I lurched before I could control the reflex.
"Yeah, choke a little. I like how that feels." He reminded, but he let go of my hair. His hands returned to my tits and he groped and tweaked them so roughly it felt like he would rip my nipples off or at least rasp them with his fingernails until they bled.
I strived to make him cum way before then, but I couldn't concentrate on a steady suck rhythm while he was stabbing and twisting my sensitive juggs. Sharp bites made me shudder and pause my oral action. My hands kept stroking and spreading spit. He groaned when my tongue swept across his pee hole.
Taking a cue from his enjoyment of gagging a throat, I alternated between huffing deep breaths and cramming my mouth down on his rigid pole, clenching my throat against his rubbery prick head.
"Are you sure you didn't whore around before marrying that doofus?"
This time, I let my anger goad me into stabbing my head against his black dick as fast as I could. My hands gripped the dark shaft tighter while rubbing furiously!
"Whoa!" He roared. "That'll do it, you sucking bitch!" His hands left my tits and grabbed the sides of his bucket seat.
He was on the verge, but I didn't dare slow down! I dropped my right hand to his ball sack and tugged.
"Holy gods of Earth!" He shouted. My left fingers felt the first rush of cum fire through his big cannon! I pulled my throat free from the black mass clogging it, just in time to gulp down that fiery bolt! I had to suck and swallow even faster to keep up with his repeating shooter. Thick wads rocked my uvula and plastered the back of my gullet. I gulped and gulped his prodigious spend!
"Fuck and suck, Bitch!" Leland's lap rocked beneath me. "You're gonna get sweet on big black cock before you know it!"
I felt fingers comb my hair. The last bolts of spunk were followed by a thick stream which took its time to slow and cease. I had managed to drink nearly all of Leland's ejaculate. My lips were cum coated, but they were only things stained by his climax in the car.
He huffed and puffed, holding my head to his expended pecker but not pressing. "Colleen," Leland Jones admitted. "I'm gonna need your white ass and lips and tits from time to time. You know that."
I held still. The spoken truth met my resignation to it, in the pit of my guts.
He didn't need to hear me acknowledge his assertion. His fingers took me by the hair and lifted my head off of his cum and spit washed prick.
The graying, black man packed his softening cock into his pants and zipped them up. He grasp the buckle at his left shoulder and drew the belt across his thick body.
I picked up my bra.
"Fuck that, Colleen. Throw your tops behind your seat." He latched his seatbelt with a sharp clack!
"But you're going to drive again!"
"And your gonna wear your seatbelt proper, this time. It ain't safe to go without." Sarcastic sternness masked his amusement.
I never blushed so hard nor cringed so tightly, head bowed to my breastbone. He hummed a desolate, soul standard and drove the remaining distance to a government styled building. The sign read, "Social Security Administration."
I had to show some resistance when he pulled into the nearly full parking lot. "You're sixty two?"
"Sixty. My wife was three years older when she passed."
I wasn't sorry for him but maybe a little for her.
He parked in the far back of the lot, between two cars with government plates.
Just a minute. Simple math was part of my job. The ages he mentioned, applied to the rules of social security benefits, determined that his wife must have died recently.
It's not like I was going to enter into a discussion. I just wanted to know when I would be free of the old ******.
Leland unbuckled his belt and got out of the car, leaving the engine running. "I'll call you soon." He strode away humming that haunting tune.
Call me all you like, you old bastard! I felt the return of precious confidence. The moment Leland had hung up, after blackmailing me, I called George and raged at him to cancel his phone's service.
It took me a minute to put my clothes back on. I hurried in case some mishap with the system forced Leland to leave the building.
Hopping into the driver seat, I looked behind me and steered the car in reverse. I breathed deeply when I was out of the lot and speeding five MPH over the posted limit. Stopping to refuel, I bought a lousy sandwich with hardly any meat, and a hard frozen, chocolate coated ice cream bar. Biting it hurt my teeth.
Peg and Ridley emerged at the hall entrance when I arrived home. They peeked around the corner to judge my mood.
"Homework." I glared at them, and they retreated.
George returned from work half an hour earlier than usual. "Honey? I cancelled my phone's service." It was his gambit to get around my tirade of a phone call.
I stopped in the middle of tying a roast, washed my hands, and headed to the hallway. "Meet me in our bedroom, George." I spoke formally.
He entered, a few steps behind me, and closed the door, anticipating another rant.
I turned around and began unfastening his clothes. "You are the man I love, and I hope you never think otherwise."
"Sweetheart!" He gasped and hugged me, my hands smashed between my clothed breasts and his half open shirt.
I became my husband's whore for the ensuing hour. I sucked and rode him and fingered his asshole until he had cum twice! He had never experienced me as a dominant parter who forced herself on him. We had role played dom and sub games, but it was more pretend than compelling theater.
"Honey, that was incredible." He panted beside me on our bed. "Should I light a cigarette for you?"
That he could make such a joke, only increased my love for him. The previous day's nightmare hadn't fully broken him, or at least he was on the mend.
"Maybe put a candle in the window, when I'm not here to prove that I'll never leave you." When you speak from the heart, you are most likely to sound utterly idiotic.
"Colleen, what do you mean?"
"I mean, George, that there'll be times ahead when I have no choice but to be far away from home. I'm not going to spell it out. I already hate myself for admitting it, but you have a right to know that I'm going to be unfaithful, which cannot be forgiven even when it's against my will.
"I guessed after hearing from you, that he had called you. He's blackmailing you."
"Not in a way that can be prosecuted."
"Do you want to charge him?" He hoped aloud.
"I want him to rot in a bare-walled cell, gang-banged by prison gangs."
"But you won't."
"I can't, My Love. The process would destroy me."
He fell silent, respecting my voice of utter certainty. Perhaps he realized how harsh the criminal system is on plaintiffs. Accusers don't have a bill of rights protecting them from persecution. It's one of the reasons women rarely charged their rapists before the modern era. Too many still don't.
"I have no idea how to cope with that." He nearly wept.
A young hand rapped on our door. "Mom, can I make a sandwich?" Ridley asked.
"Tell Peg to wrap up the roast and put it in the fridge. I'll come out in a bit, and fix something better and quicker." We kept emergency, organic frozen dinners in our freezer.
I held my husband's hand and looked into his eyes. "Events have given me a split personality. Think of it that way. One side of me will hurt you badly. The other will do her utmost to soothe your suffering. If you can love me enough to withstand the hurting, I will do my best to break free of our tormentor.
"I will try." Wet eyes and bit lip assured his promise.
Rising from the bed, and holding back my tears, I put on my houserobe and left my husband, to feed our kids.
In the days that followed, I was haunted, expecting Leland to jump out from bushes and garbage trucks! He knew our address, but my husband's phone could no longer track mine. Nor could it call me.
Before a week had passed, Leland called my phone from an unidentified number. My phone shunted the unrecognized call to voicemail. I didn't know it was him until his unexpectedly reasonable voice spoke in my ear.
"You're officially a whore, today. I had to spend a lot to get a new service for this phone. Pick me up in downtown." He rattled off an intersection that was actually at the edge of downtown. "Tomorrow at seven, or I'll see you the next day, much earlier. We're gonna fuck and talk. Wear something a whore would wear."
The threat was clear. If I didn't meet him, he would come to my ******'s home!
At breakfast the next day, after shooing Peg and Ridley out to school, I told George. "I'm going out tonight. Don't come home early. I don't want to see you before I leave."
He stopped eating, and his throat clenched. "I-I see." His posture slowly slumped while he stared at his plate, unable to make eye contact.
I grabbed his hand. "I'll be home as soon as I can. I'll do anything then, to ease your pain."
"No sex."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't want to have sex with you - after-"
"Whatever you want." I felt my own throat constrict. My earnest hope to manage our marriage under horrific circumstances had no basis in reality. "I'm absolutely certain that if I ignore him, he will make our lives worse."
"I don't believe that, but I also believe that you may be right and I'm wrong." He said quietly. His fingers intertwined with mine. This was the way we handled conflict. It worked great for fifteen years.
The kids came home on time and immediately began arguing. I was looking through my closet for clothes which might show that I had at least tried to dress like a whore. There was no way I would put on the skimpy and tight things that prostitues in movies wore. I did apply quite a bit of makeup.
"You gotta stop being mean to me, Peg-neg." Ridley accused. "That's why Mom is acting up and hitting us."
"I'm only mean to you because you're such a snot hole. You're always in my way or taking my stuff."
"I give your stuff back. Mom won't buy girls shoes for me."
"Don't you hear how sick that sounds? You're a freak!"
"You're a butt head!"
"Stop it!" I shouted standing in my doorway at the end of the hall.
My quarreling son and ******** went silent but stared at me. I told them. "If you don't have homework, Peg you clean the kitchen. Ridley, you scrub the bathroom. I'll check in an hour."
"Mom." Ridley confronted me. "What did you do to your face?"
"Yeah, Mom. You look like you fell headfirst against a paint pallet."
In the heat of my frustration at my children's endless bickering, I had forgotten about the makeup on my face.
"I'm testing some product." I lied.
"It looks nasty, Mom." My son grimaced.
"Trashy, more like." Peg took pride in her greater vocabulary and for getting a lick in against me. She nearly purred from putting me down.
I couldn't punish them for what was my fault. I fumed for a second. "Get started with your chores. Now I'll wear this face all night just to annoy you."
"Slip on some sexy clothes, and maybe *** will treat you special tonight." Peg winked. She didn't mean any harm, but I started shouting. "Your father is a wonderful man, and you should respect him more!"
Son and ******** dashed away to get buckets and soap and scrubbers from the utility closet. I shrank back into my room. What should have sparked a mood breaking laugh had put a lump in my throat. Poor George.
Freshly miserable, I picked out a short, fairly tight skirt and some bikini panties. I wore an under-bra beneath a silky green top. The skirt was dark brown wool. I looked like a whore for Smokey the Bear. I didn't own any high heels, but I put on my tallest, block heels that were black.
Checking on the kids' efforts had been another lie and a means to motivate them. Before either of them finished, I sneaked out of the house and drove to downtown.
It was only 5pm. Half an hour later, I arrived near the intersection and waited in the car. A lot of people were leaving for home, and I had plenty of choices for a parking spot. I found one on Seth St., half a block down from the intersection.
The area was sketchy. There weren't many derelicts, but I saw more than one prostitute cross the street and ply the sidewalk. My clothes were Amish by comparison. I texted the ****** info-board, which was a computer tablet set up in the kitchen. It could play music while displaying various scenery: plants, landscapes, cities... But it was internet capable and would display an email directed to it.
"I had to drive downtown to return the cosmetics. I may do some shopping while I'm here." I had to get a dig in. "The more you two fight, the more I don't want to be home." That partial lie also explained my recent, abnormal absences.
To distract myself from the sadness around me, I played a silly game on my phone, wasting time.
Tap-tap-tap.
I lurched in my seat so hard, I dropped the phone. Looking in the driver's window, a dark face put breath steam on the glass. "Hey, Sexy, you working tonight?" The middle-age, hispanic man had a light accent.
"NO!" I tried not to shout, but I was emphatic. Of course, the car was fully locked with the windows all the way up.
"I got twenty bucks for a blowjob. It'll be quick in your car."
"I-I'm waiting for my man." I hoped to intimidate the insistent but probably harmless John. "He should be here any minute."
"So you got a pimp? I talk to him."
"That bitch nothing but trouble, Mister." A new man appeared, a 20s white dude dressed to look as hood-dude as possible. "I got better ho's. Let me introduce you." The white pimp tugged on the man's shirt sleeve. The John gave me a look that asked, "Trouble, huh?" He followed the white dude away.
I picked up my phone. It was 6:41.
BAM! Five minutes later a fist struck my window. "Get out of here, Bitch! This is my street!"
The white dude had returned and was livid at my presence.
I lurched away from the window and babbled anxiously. "I'm not a hooker! I'm waiting for a friend. Please, I didn't ask that guy to talk. I was just playing a game on my phone! I tried to get rid of him! I didn't know anything about this street. Look, I'm married to a wonderful man!" I showed him my rings.
The dude scratched stubble on his jaw, contemplating my words. "Nah. Can't have you interrupting traffic." He meant Johns. "Cops haven't been told to scrub this street. So it's prime real estate." He glowered at me. "You a cop?"
"Sir, I'm just a housewife with a part-time job online."
His eyes began to roam my seated figure. "Got some nice titties there. You have kids?"
I nodded shyly, thinking he'd be less interested.
"Let me see your tits. Maybe I get you better pay, part-time."
"Please, I couldn't!"
"Show him your fucking tits, Lisa!" A deep voice sang through the opposite window. It was Leland. He'd called me Lisa, and I understood. Blushing darkly, I pulled down my top and revealed my breasts by pushing up the under-bra. The wire stiffened edge of the supporting cups, ended at just under my dark nipples.
"Huh." The white pimp said blandly. "I think you lied about kids, or maybe you didn't let them suck your milk. Them'll bring a good tenner for a boob job."
I cringed, ironically wishing Leland would protect me.
"She's no whore, not like you peddle, Jason." Leland struck the roof of my car with a fist. "I called her here for a lesson."
"Loretta?" The dude grinned suddenly.
"How much for an hour, no sex, maybe show her tits and twat for a little bit?"
"Fifty."
"I'll pay thirty, and I won't touch her."
"Thirty five, and you get forty five minutes."
"All right. I'll give you that. But the clock don't start until we're in a room."
The two men met at front of my car, where Leland passed a roll of bills to Jason.
"Maybe you looking for some toot? This is genuine, old school, not too hype."
"I stopped that shit."
"Yeah, well Loretta may want some."
"That's your concern."
Jason snorted. "I'll bring her to The Stadium. You better be there first or I take another tenner. Clock starts when you got a key in your hand." He ambled down the street.
"Out of the car, Lily." Leland shouted. "Nobody gonna fuck with that Swede box. Jason's good a keeping riff-raff off of his street."
My tormentor had saved me but for what? The word 'lesson' was my only clue. Was he hiring a hooker to teach me something? I got out of the car and checked the doors were locked. I pulled my top and bra back in place.
He fumed, "Got no time for your shy streak." He marched up to me and took my arm. "You look like the stupidest whore ever." I stumbled alongside him to the intersection and down the cross street.
The Stadium was a five story hotel about two rooms wide, stuck between other hotels just like it. Two very scary black dudes stood on the sidewalk watching both ways down the street. Leland walked me in a hurry, ignoring them. He stopped in front of the steps leading into the hotel.
"Yo, Nigga." One of the thugs called to Leland. "You don't squat here with a bitch we don't know."
"Jason's bringing Loretta."
The thug's lip curled at the sound of her name. "Tell you what. You give me the white bitch while you play with that old bag."
"I would, but I didn't pay Jason enough."
"I got a nickle." The other thug snorted. "Any more for that beat up twat is wasted money."
"I tol' you, Leland, the married, white cunt's got potential." Jason strode up. Next to him walked a short black woman. Her tits and ass were nearly as wide as she was tall. A plastic, purple halter showed her cleavage and under-boobs. She had a matching purple thong, but it was made of polyester satin. She wore white sandals with heels that put he on the tips of her toes.
Her trashy garb only worked against her attractiveness. She looked older than Leland. I was pretty sure it was from miles rather than age. Her belly and thighs had a lot of nasty scars. Her face was crooked, and her nose had definitely been broken long ago. She had pluck, despite her worn looks. Taking one glance at me, she scoffed. "You trying to be a pimp now, Leland?"
"You know I'd be a shit one, Loretta." Leland tapped his left shoe's toe on the pocked sidewalk.
"You smarter than this white nigger." She rolled her eyes from Leland to Jason.
"Why you make me need to smack you, Bitch?" The white dude didn't however.
"Making sure you don't get lazy." She answered. I suspected she had a smart answer for everything. Her eyes returned to Leland. "Jason said somethin' about a lesson."
"Stop jabbering and go do the thing." Jason pulled out his phone. "I'm gonna start forty five right now."
"Come on." Leland tugged my arm, but upon reaching the top of the stairs, he opened the door for her. I had to enter last.
...to be continued...
Treating Her Right
Chapter 5
The smell inside was atrocious! I'd rather have been forced to have sex near an active garbage dump. Mold, old condoms, more piss than shit but not by much, all contributed to the stench in The Stadium's ground floor. I was the only one who coughed. Leland handed a ten dollar bill to the clerk and received a key. "Third floor. Room B."
The room barely fit a cot with a thin mattress. It was stained all over but not as badly as the carpet. Leland cracked open the window. It opened a couple inches. Loretta sank her huge butt on the cot. She must have had surgery on her breasts too - you'd run out of letters of the alphabet trying to label their size. I felt sorry for her. Somehow being blackmailed by a horny sixty year-old didn't seem like a problem worth mentioning in that room. I stood just inside the doorway.
"Take off your clothes, Lela." Leland continued to anonymize me. As I unbuttoned and shucked off the few articles on my body, I looked for hooks to hang them from instead of letting them touch the mottled green indoor-outdoor carpet. The walls were nearly as gross. Peeling paint revealed mold infused drywall.
"She a pretty, white cunt, Leland." Loretta gave my naked figure a cursory eye. "What the fuck am I doing here for thirty five bucks and 'bout as many minutes?"
"You gonna give her the tour." Leland's speech pattern edged closer to slums street talk. "Lisa thinks she knows her body, but she don't know what it means to be a bitch."
"Maybe we got time to teach her rocket science while we at it." The thick, short woman snorted. She tugged off her top. The number of scars on her huge tits increased as they got closer to her nipples. She was missing half of her left nipple. I wanted to throw up, seeing how awful she'd been treated. "What's your name, Honey?"
She looked up at me. I looked at Leland. He told her, "It's Colleen."
My sadness for her launched anger. "Did you do any of that to her, Leland?"
"Nah, the old cock hero don't do this stuff." Loretta studied her tits. "He fucks you up other ways."
"I always treated you right." Leland assured. I had heard him say that before.
"These tits made a black dude a lot of money in my best days, when they were smaller."
"I told you they was big enough. You had to listen to Jason."
"I don't talk bad about my daddy, Nigger. You know that." I had seen how she talked bad to her pimp. "Jason didn't dump me like Paul and Grover. He still got my roof and breakfast."
"Show her your twat." Leland sounded as if he was mentally counting minutes.
I didn't want to see it, but when I turned my head away from Loretta's final disrobing, he threw a box of Tic-Taks at me. "Look at her, you white fucking princess!"
I grimaced before even recognizing what the ravaged woman had for a vulva. It was bald, but she'd never need to shave again. Her entire groin was a burn scar.
"I'm so sorry." I couldn't not cry.
"This how you gonna break her?" Loretta looked up at the frowning black man.
"Look closer, Bitch, or I'll drag your face to that awful twat!" I swear Leland sounded like he was about to break out in tears.
I hustled closer to the cot and leaned over. I didn't see a clit. She'd had collagen injections to her outer labia. The sight of her distorted and burned sex compelled me to ask an awful question. "Can you feel any pleasure?"
"Damn, Leland, I think I'm gonna cry." Loretta mocked us.
"Answer her, Loretta."
"Sho nuff, Massa!" She widened the split of her thighs and reached down to her distended lips. Prying them apart reveled a flat spot where there should have been a clitoris. "I cut it off to even it up from what it used to look like." She shocked me when she began fingering the flat dot once hidden by the surgically enhanced hood. "I can still feel something." Her face lost its sassy expression then. "Inside is ripped up too, but my G-spot can still make me cum."
An unexpected sigh of intense gratitude for the woman, erupted from my throat. "Why? Why are you doing this?" I looked at Leland, not caring if he walloped me.
"Because you don't know how gods damned lucky you are to be in my care."
"You mean, she was a submissive?" I sensed that Loretta had overcome it, if true, but the price had been horrific.
"I always been a black bitch to men. Enoughs of them like fucks with attitude, I made my way easy for a time."
"Loretta just got unlucky too many times. Her pimps cared less each time she got more hurt. You," Leland angered. "Are a fucking pin doll!" He suddenly unbuckled his belt. "Make room for her, Loretta." He pulled out his wide, leather belt!
I stepped backwards. "No! I haven't done anything wrong!"
"Don't care, Bitch. Get down to that cot and lay over the whore's lap!"
"Better do it, Colleen. You fight now, you'll hurt worse later." The heavy titted and ass woman patted her scarred thighs.
"No, please. Why?"
"The only way to understand is to take a fucking beating!" Leland advanced, and I got the distinct impression that he would belt me standing, worse than if I presented my ass from Loretta's lap!
I ducked past him and fell across the woman's thighs. A second later I screamed from his first swing and CRACK across my ass! "AAAA!!!"
THWACK!
Tears poured from me as the pain in my behind magnified from each successive blow. But Leland wasn't belting in anger. He threw mighty swats of his belt upon my purpling flesh, mindfully timing his swats to every other second.
I kicked and batted my fists against the thin mattress! I screamed and twisted! Loretta proved incredibly strong, holding me down securely while her john whipped my white ass! "Relax yo ass, Colleen. Won't sting so bad." She advised.
I tried, but each stroke interrupted attempts to fight my body's natural reaction to stiffen just in time for the next smash of Leland's belt!
The woman holding me for my 'spanking,' whispered. "He good at not leaving scars. Just lots of hurt is all." It was spare comfort, but somehow the words helped me to withstand the blows.
"This is your lesson, Cunt! I'll treat you right on my terms. Don't need no excuses. If I whip you, it's because I'm gonna to enjoy it! My big black dick is loving yo ass turn red!"
One minute into my beating, I was a wreck, emotionally and physically limp. He stopped when I had become a lump of flesh that further blows wouldn't educate.
Words were spoken. The room spun. Loretta picked me up and lay me face down on the cot. "You better get on your hands and knees. It won't be as bad that way."
What won't be? I didn't have the breath to ask. I obeyed as best I could, rising slowly. Shuffling clothes whispered in my ears.
Leland spoke but not to me. "You want some of this? You use to like how it filled you. I told Jason I wouldn't touch ya, but you be welcome to put it in by yerself."
"You're sweet, Old Nigger Full of Junk. I see you sometime and knock knees maybe then. You still got no place?"
"Flop house. The other guys would love you."
"They can't afford even my freaky ass."
Their talk gave me time to find a kneeling postion that hurt the least. My ass remained on fire, and my eyes dripped, but I believed Loretta. If being on hands and knees wouldn't hurt as badly, I worked my defeated limbs to turn me into a table with a weeping cunt.
I couldn't understand why it was wet. I'd never been less aroused, sexually. I only wanted to fall unconscious. And yet, I wondered if the pain and my pride was suppressing erotic arousal. I think now that the intensity of my suffering diminished notably as I waited for Leland to mount me.
"You doing this because you miss her." Loretta said a strange thing. I turned my dull head at them.
"Now you just being a busybody." He stepped around her and walked his knees onto the cot until his large erection was aimed at my behind.
SLAP! "OWWW!" He caned his hard dick across my purple butt! "Spread your knees wider, Bitch."
"OKAY! OKAY!" I shifted my right knee to that edge of the cot. My butt jiggled, and another lance of pain shot up my spine! "OOHH!!" A fat prick head pressed into my vulva, seeking the depths therein.
The hollows of my burning buttocks jerked spasmodically, as he rubbed his pulsating cock along my wet slit. Leland worked the blood-inflated head of his rigid shaft up and down the length of my hair-lined furrow until he found the snug opening to my wetly cringing cunt. Ramming forward with all the strength of his aging back and legs, he drove his massive length into my tender pussy with one merciless lunge.
I wilted before his attack, wailing in pain. My tormented body shook the cot, hips jerking futilely to escape the spearing girth. All effort was useless. His iron rod impaled me like a biologist's specimen on a display card. My body rocked forward on my hands and knees from his thrust.
His stiff manhood crammed deeper into my straining flesh until his hairy loins smacked my beaten ass! I screeched, but he ignored my suffering, focused solely on his pleasure. A fraction of his black girth showed from my hideously stretched cunt lips. He paused for a second or two, completely submerged in the private recess of my quivering belly. The warm, wet walls of my unwilling cunt tightly clasped around the great length and breadth of his phallus.
Leland didn't wait. He didn't even allow me to adjust to the presence of his fat cock buried nearly to the hilt. He just began to fuck, ramming in and out of my widely stretched pussy like some feral, rutting animal. His only goal was to shoot a new, hot sticky load of churning semen deep up my submissive, abused fuck hole. He'd last shot into me nearly a week ago, and that had only been down my throat!
"Jesus, Leland!" Loretta exclaimed. "Don't know many bitches who can take all of your junk. Honey, you in a special club of cunts!"
"Don't let praise go to your head, White Slut! I'm trying to teach you be humble!" My innate submissiveness wasn't good enough for him. He cracked his heavy palm against my aching ass, and I screamed, "I won't!" Having a cunt big enough for Leland's mighty, pounding pylon was no praise. I feared it would inspire him to take me more frequently!
He kept humping long, swift strokes. Leland had barricaded his mind against my weeping. I sobbed from unbearable humiliation before his whore friend. He slid his hands along the sides of my thrashing body, shoving them under my tits and began to maul them. I groaned over and over again as he maniacally rode my straining fuck split which was barely able to accommodate his desire. His grinding groin smacked my helplessly ass until the wet thud of his loins resounded in the tiny room. Big fingers tugged at my dangling nipples while he savagely pummeled me.
"Nooooooooo!" I was unused such pain! And yet a buffer grew between his abuse and my experience of it, as if soft clouds formed in my mind and absorbed half. I didn't understand those clouds which seemed to hide merciful, joyful angels.
"Shut up Bitch and move it - move your ass," he growled.
"Please, Leland, you're killing me!" I blubbered.
"Hump your sorry, whipped ass!" he commanded, painfully squeezing my full tits.
I sobbed and commenced a jerky, unwilling rotation of my agonized ass up against his riveting cock, praying his fingernails cutting into my hanging tits would relent. Long red marks followed the paths of his punishing fingers scraping down my sides! My misery and subjugation grew proportionately to his savage lust.
His long, hard strokes beat my wet, tightly clasping passage. With each out-thrust, he withdrew his rigid hardness until only the lust-swollen head remained inside my tortured cunt. Then he would lunge with animal strength until his scrotum hair tangled my cunt curls. I groaned helplessly as my straining vagina was plundered by his bestial onslaught, my ripe body driven forward with each jackhammering. His large hands kept me from slipping off his lengthy skewer. Leland's monstrous cock head kept diving in and out of my aching cunt.
"Leland, I never seen you like this. I'd be afraid of you giving me a beating and fucking so mean."
"I'm not book smart, Loretta." He growled. "This the only way I know to educate a privileged white woman."
My tormentor suddenly speeded his penetration of my defenseless pussy, pummeling my burning ass without mercy nor care for my pleasure. The sound of his deep animal grunts filled the room, along with my pitiful moans, them mingling with the noise of flesh slapping against abused flesh and the moist sound of his pile-driving cock lancing through my tortured cunt! Ignoring my cries of agony and shame, he grasped and pinched my tits again.
I could only imagine he wanted to possess and slowly destroy this white cunt who had never shown any willingness to accept his rapes, nor given any sign of enjoying them. Distended by lust, his angrily pulsing cock swelled in my tight pussy until I could dare hope my suffering would end or at least the strange, buffering clouds in my head would protect me better.
Leland plunged deep, deep up into my trembling cunt, ramming mercilessly. I wanted to withhold my squeals, because I was sure he enjoyed them, but my willpower had surrendered. The soft clouds hugging my senses remained fuzzy as to their origin, but they were indeed merciful. Still, I cried out again and again with each angry thrust and finger dig into my nipples. Goaded my by tempered cries, Leland stroked harder and harder, his steel hard battering flesh splitting my tightly yielding pussy as an axe would a log.
"Ooooh, please, please stop!" I wailed. "I can't take all of you - you're oh, Gods!"
Harder and faster he fucked, a crazed bull without any feeling except with his wildly moving prick. Leland committed entirely to fucking his lesson into me! Our junk crashed together with lewdly responding slaps and my outcries, colliding with sadistic repetition. My stomach churned, but my loins increased their lubrication and through a veiled mechanism strengthened my virtual pain barrier.
Leland kept drubbing in and out of me, like some mad machine or rutting beast spurred to new effort from the heated buildup inside his seething loins. The base of his cock jammed into my tightly quivering cunt! I knew with a certainty now that he was about to cum. He rammed forward with all his energy, the full extent of his incited cock cruelly impacted my battered cervix.
"AAAA!!!" I yelled, a futile gesture which may have triggered his eruption. Boiling, impatient sperm burst from his loins, and he crushed my mauled breasts.
"Hnnnn!" Loretta also reacted to my outcry, smugly hiding her deduction of its meaning."
Wildly, Leland tugged on my tits, and his mighty cock swelled from the rush of sperm through it. He howled as he came. Thick goo scalded my insides, fiery bursts flooding the overflowing cavern of my packed pussy. Leland pumped his spitting dick a few times in an effort to milk his balls completely dry with my shuddering cunt, but the enormous shaft continued to spew cum until his pubic hair was matted and our shaking thighs were saturated with the run-off.
I sought Loretta, with tear-glazed begging eyes as the last hot dregs of sticky sperm spewed into my pussy. He fell forward, crushing me down against the cot. He sudden weight against my burning behind, sent additional shockwaves through my battered soul. However, I was nearly numb to pain by then. I couldn't believe I had remained conscious through my ordeal.
Loretta's voice was void of sass. "I used to ask Leland to be my pimp, when I wasn't so messed about. His wife urged him to make that kind of money, but he refused. He said he never wanted to be so mean to a cunt. Shelly-"
"Shut the fuck up, Whore!" Leland roared! His prick began to retreat, to grow limp, and he breathed deeply, no satisfaction in his voice.
I lay still then, staring at the scarred woman, my tear-streaked face a contorted mass of pain. She stepped over and petted my hair. She didn't have to bend over to reach it. "Don't think, from now on, you got a choice in whatever Leland wants."
"I won't." I sobbed. "I know that now."
To Leland, she muttered something about making a woman cum but not letting her enjoy it. It didn't make any sense to me.
He ignored her and rolled off of me, sticky cum stretching from his pubes to mine as his prick sluiced out of my spunk drenched cunt. He sat up on the end of the cot, looking away from me.
Loretta gave sympathy with her eyes and gentle pets but sent no clue of her smug understanding of my experience.
Rapid blows struck the stinking room's door! "Time's up, you black bitch! There better not be a dick in you, or I'll take what that costs out of your hide!" Jason yelled.
The mutilated whore picked up her clothes and hurried to answer the door. "All right, all right already, Daddy." She began donning her plastic garb in front of the young, white pimp.
He looked her over and decided he hadn't been cheated. "How did the lesson go?"
"It not my place to tell." She hustled him away from the room. Somehow she had leeway under Jason's strict control. That didn't get my attention at the time.
"C-can I go home?" I whimpered, curling up into a ball, my ass still on fire.
"We still got ten minutes for the room. Come over here and clean me. He meant, suck him.
Leland grabbed my head and forced my mouth on his sagging prick before I could see his face.
I licked and sucked until he said, "Time's up. Get your things, Colleen." His prick had only gotten softer in my busy mouth. He went out into the hall and closed the open door, allowing me to dress in private. My mind was too fried to think anything of it.
Leland escorted me down the stairs and out into the street where the two men at the entrance laughed at me and gave him arm-bar gestures. "HNNGGHH! HNNGGHH!" They grunted, smiling. "Fug dat whi-wom!" They parodied their own speech patterns.
Leland nodded, but he didn't smile. He'd kept a blank expression since I met him outside the hotel room's door.
We walked to my car. "How old is Loretta?"
"She's 47, been whoring since she was 15. I told her years ago to go independent, but she likes the goodies pimps give for bonuses."
I remembered how Jason tried to sell a drug for Loretta's enjoyment. "She's hooked?"
"Nah, likes to get high from time to time. Pimps take a whore's money, all of it and pays for the things he decides she needs."
When we reached my tired Volvo, I surprised myself. "Do you need a ride?"
"You just want me to drive, so you don't have to sit on your sorry ass." He snorted and walked into the neighborhood's gloom.
At every stop, I had to lift my butt from the agonizing car seat. Several times, cars behind me honked when I hesitated in front of a green light.
When I reached our home's street, I parked away from the house and examined my face in the mirror. I looked like the mess I had been brutalized into. Makeup had run over my chin, down my neck, and onto the tops of my breasts. My face was like a gender bending rocker's after an intense performance.
I got out of the Volvo and fluffed the back of my skirt to cool my inflamed butt. I had stuffed my panties in my purse before leaving the hotel room. I sneaked into our backyard, quietly unlocking the gate and shutting it behind me. I wondered how George had handled my time of infidelity. Our bedroom window was dark. I crept to the back door and put my ear to its small window.
"Daddy, Ridley changed the channel again!" Peg wailed from the front room.
"I had to, Pop. She only watches stupid stuff. Don't I get a turn?" Ridley defended loudly.
"Figure it out between yourselves. You're too old to act that immaturely." My husband spoke softly, but he was close to the back door. I heard him clearly. Peeking, I saw him sitting at the table, tapping idly on the display tablet's screen. Only its dim screen and light from the living room illuminated the kitchen. I saw his slumping outline, and my heart weighed heavier for it.
I considered washing my face using the garden hose, but my makeup needed soap or cold cream to remove fully. I dared to unlock the back door and ease it open just enough to look through. "George!" I hissed softly.
Dull eyes turned on me. "Wha-"
"Shhhhh!" I interrupted. "I can't let the kids see me."
His body turned slowly. A flash of concern wiped off his vacant looking face. I quailed, waiting for his judgement. Would he flush me from our home and send me away forever? I wouldn't have blamed him. Hells, I wanted encourage that. I was no longer a wife to him, but a toy for another man's pleasure. Somehow, hope remained in my heart.
"Kids!" He shouted suddenly. Fuck, he wanted to them know how far I had fallen.
"I'll give you twenty dollars to go to the store and get ice cream. You mom will be home soon.
"What flavor, Daddy?" That was Peg's limited ability to suck up to her father.
"I want Rocky Road!" Ridley shouted.
I closed the door when feet thudded closer. He gave them each ten dollars. "Get two pints and keep the change."
Our young teens dashed to the front. I stepped inside after hearing that door slam shut. I hung my head and started crying.
"Come on, Leen." George came over and hugged me gently. "The one thing I can understand is how awful this is for you."
"If you only knew-"
"My imagination is bad enough."
He helped me to our private bathroom and sat on our bed while I washed my face. He said, "I didn't hear the car."
"I left it down the street." I turned to him from the sink's mirror, but he was already heading out of our bedroom. He moved the car to our driveway and returned.
I was in the bath, soaking my burning behind in hot water and plenty of bubble-bath. I didn't dare let him see my deep bruises.
"Can I come in?"
"Please, Honey. I don't deserve your forgiveness." I tried to joke. "Until maybe tomorrow."
He shook his head and frowned. "What can I do?"
"Stop thinking about me." I elaborated. "I don't mean stop caring. I would die if I lost your affection. I literally mean, don't think about me during the times I'm gone. That would eat up your insides. Two personalities, remember?"
"I'll try." He sighed. "H-how long until-" His voice trailed off.
"Until the next time?" I shook my head. "I don't know, but it'll probably be soon. I think he wants to prove something."
My husband clenched his lips tight, draining the blood from them. "Do you want me to sleep on the couch tonight?"
"For the gods sakes!" I burst angrily! "I'm the one who should sleep on the couch! I've wronged you horribly."
"I feel numb, Colleen." His hands trembled at his sides.
"Give me a second alone." I asked.
Nodding, he shut our bathroom door between us. I got out of the tub and tied a towel around my hips, flinching from the pressure of fluffy terrycloth on my asscheeks. I opened the door and went to him, hugging my husband with my soapy tits and arms. "Feel me, please. I'm back, and I'm yours."
George tenuously returned my embrace, slower than he had when he met me at the kitchen door.
"Mom doesn't like marshmallows!" Peg accused from the living room.
"Sure she does!" Ridley argued. "Everybody likes marshmallows."
Soon there was a knock. "We got ice cream!" Our son announced. "Peg got boring old strawberry."
"Strawberry's good for you! Healthier than Rocky Road. Actual road probably tastes better."
"Mooom!" They must have seen my car in the driveway.
"Ignore them." I whispered.
He told them, "Fix yourselves some. Your mother and I need our sleep."
"Oooo-lala!" Peg sang. They went away and argued in the kitchen while scooping ice cream.
I grabbed my pajamas and dried myself off in the bathroom with the door shut again. Re-emerging into our bedroom, I found George laying down, staring at the ceiling.
I crept under the covers, rested on my left side, and nuzzled my face against a shoulder. He threaded that arm under my neck until he was hugging me to his chest.
I fell asleep.
...to be continued...
The smell inside was atrocious! I'd rather have been forced to have sex near an active garbage dump. Mold, old condoms, more piss than shit but not by much, all contributed to the stench in The Stadium's ground floor. I was the only one who coughed. Leland handed a ten dollar bill to the clerk and received a key. "Third floor. Room B."
The room barely fit a cot with a thin mattress. It was stained all over but not as badly as the carpet. Leland cracked open the window. It opened a couple inches. Loretta sank her huge butt on the cot. She must have had surgery on her breasts too - you'd run out of letters of the alphabet trying to label their size. I felt sorry for her. Somehow being blackmailed by a horny sixty year-old didn't seem like a problem worth mentioning in that room. I stood just inside the doorway.
"Take off your clothes, Lela." Leland continued to anonymize me. As I unbuttoned and shucked off the few articles on my body, I looked for hooks to hang them from instead of letting them touch the mottled green indoor-outdoor carpet. The walls were nearly as gross. Peeling paint revealed mold infused drywall.
"She a pretty, white cunt, Leland." Loretta gave my naked figure a cursory eye. "What the fuck am I doing here for thirty five bucks and 'bout as many minutes?"
"You gonna give her the tour." Leland's speech pattern edged closer to slums street talk. "Lisa thinks she knows her body, but she don't know what it means to be a bitch."
"Maybe we got time to teach her rocket science while we at it." The thick, short woman snorted. She tugged off her top. The number of scars on her huge tits increased as they got closer to her nipples. She was missing half of her left nipple. I wanted to throw up, seeing how awful she'd been treated. "What's your name, Honey?"
She looked up at me. I looked at Leland. He told her, "It's Colleen."
My sadness for her launched anger. "Did you do any of that to her, Leland?"
"Nah, the old cock hero don't do this stuff." Loretta studied her tits. "He fucks you up other ways."
"I always treated you right." Leland assured. I had heard him say that before.
"These tits made a black dude a lot of money in my best days, when they were smaller."
"I told you they was big enough. You had to listen to Jason."
"I don't talk bad about my daddy, Nigger. You know that." I had seen how she talked bad to her pimp. "Jason didn't dump me like Paul and Grover. He still got my roof and breakfast."
"Show her your twat." Leland sounded as if he was mentally counting minutes.
I didn't want to see it, but when I turned my head away from Loretta's final disrobing, he threw a box of Tic-Taks at me. "Look at her, you white fucking princess!"
I grimaced before even recognizing what the ravaged woman had for a vulva. It was bald, but she'd never need to shave again. Her entire groin was a burn scar.
"I'm so sorry." I couldn't not cry.
"This how you gonna break her?" Loretta looked up at the frowning black man.
"Look closer, Bitch, or I'll drag your face to that awful twat!" I swear Leland sounded like he was about to break out in tears.
I hustled closer to the cot and leaned over. I didn't see a clit. She'd had collagen injections to her outer labia. The sight of her distorted and burned sex compelled me to ask an awful question. "Can you feel any pleasure?"
"Damn, Leland, I think I'm gonna cry." Loretta mocked us.
"Answer her, Loretta."
"Sho nuff, Massa!" She widened the split of her thighs and reached down to her distended lips. Prying them apart reveled a flat spot where there should have been a clitoris. "I cut it off to even it up from what it used to look like." She shocked me when she began fingering the flat dot once hidden by the surgically enhanced hood. "I can still feel something." Her face lost its sassy expression then. "Inside is ripped up too, but my G-spot can still make me cum."
An unexpected sigh of intense gratitude for the woman, erupted from my throat. "Why? Why are you doing this?" I looked at Leland, not caring if he walloped me.
"Because you don't know how gods damned lucky you are to be in my care."
"You mean, she was a submissive?" I sensed that Loretta had overcome it, if true, but the price had been horrific.
"I always been a black bitch to men. Enoughs of them like fucks with attitude, I made my way easy for a time."
"Loretta just got unlucky too many times. Her pimps cared less each time she got more hurt. You," Leland angered. "Are a fucking pin doll!" He suddenly unbuckled his belt. "Make room for her, Loretta." He pulled out his wide, leather belt!
I stepped backwards. "No! I haven't done anything wrong!"
"Don't care, Bitch. Get down to that cot and lay over the whore's lap!"
"Better do it, Colleen. You fight now, you'll hurt worse later." The heavy titted and ass woman patted her scarred thighs.
"No, please. Why?"
"The only way to understand is to take a fucking beating!" Leland advanced, and I got the distinct impression that he would belt me standing, worse than if I presented my ass from Loretta's lap!
I ducked past him and fell across the woman's thighs. A second later I screamed from his first swing and CRACK across my ass! "AAAA!!!"
THWACK!
Tears poured from me as the pain in my behind magnified from each successive blow. But Leland wasn't belting in anger. He threw mighty swats of his belt upon my purpling flesh, mindfully timing his swats to every other second.
I kicked and batted my fists against the thin mattress! I screamed and twisted! Loretta proved incredibly strong, holding me down securely while her john whipped my white ass! "Relax yo ass, Colleen. Won't sting so bad." She advised.
I tried, but each stroke interrupted attempts to fight my body's natural reaction to stiffen just in time for the next smash of Leland's belt!
The woman holding me for my 'spanking,' whispered. "He good at not leaving scars. Just lots of hurt is all." It was spare comfort, but somehow the words helped me to withstand the blows.
"This is your lesson, Cunt! I'll treat you right on my terms. Don't need no excuses. If I whip you, it's because I'm gonna to enjoy it! My big black dick is loving yo ass turn red!"
One minute into my beating, I was a wreck, emotionally and physically limp. He stopped when I had become a lump of flesh that further blows wouldn't educate.
Words were spoken. The room spun. Loretta picked me up and lay me face down on the cot. "You better get on your hands and knees. It won't be as bad that way."
What won't be? I didn't have the breath to ask. I obeyed as best I could, rising slowly. Shuffling clothes whispered in my ears.
Leland spoke but not to me. "You want some of this? You use to like how it filled you. I told Jason I wouldn't touch ya, but you be welcome to put it in by yerself."
"You're sweet, Old Nigger Full of Junk. I see you sometime and knock knees maybe then. You still got no place?"
"Flop house. The other guys would love you."
"They can't afford even my freaky ass."
Their talk gave me time to find a kneeling postion that hurt the least. My ass remained on fire, and my eyes dripped, but I believed Loretta. If being on hands and knees wouldn't hurt as badly, I worked my defeated limbs to turn me into a table with a weeping cunt.
I couldn't understand why it was wet. I'd never been less aroused, sexually. I only wanted to fall unconscious. And yet, I wondered if the pain and my pride was suppressing erotic arousal. I think now that the intensity of my suffering diminished notably as I waited for Leland to mount me.
"You doing this because you miss her." Loretta said a strange thing. I turned my dull head at them.
"Now you just being a busybody." He stepped around her and walked his knees onto the cot until his large erection was aimed at my behind.
SLAP! "OWWW!" He caned his hard dick across my purple butt! "Spread your knees wider, Bitch."
"OKAY! OKAY!" I shifted my right knee to that edge of the cot. My butt jiggled, and another lance of pain shot up my spine! "OOHH!!" A fat prick head pressed into my vulva, seeking the depths therein.
The hollows of my burning buttocks jerked spasmodically, as he rubbed his pulsating cock along my wet slit. Leland worked the blood-inflated head of his rigid shaft up and down the length of my hair-lined furrow until he found the snug opening to my wetly cringing cunt. Ramming forward with all the strength of his aging back and legs, he drove his massive length into my tender pussy with one merciless lunge.
I wilted before his attack, wailing in pain. My tormented body shook the cot, hips jerking futilely to escape the spearing girth. All effort was useless. His iron rod impaled me like a biologist's specimen on a display card. My body rocked forward on my hands and knees from his thrust.
His stiff manhood crammed deeper into my straining flesh until his hairy loins smacked my beaten ass! I screeched, but he ignored my suffering, focused solely on his pleasure. A fraction of his black girth showed from my hideously stretched cunt lips. He paused for a second or two, completely submerged in the private recess of my quivering belly. The warm, wet walls of my unwilling cunt tightly clasped around the great length and breadth of his phallus.
Leland didn't wait. He didn't even allow me to adjust to the presence of his fat cock buried nearly to the hilt. He just began to fuck, ramming in and out of my widely stretched pussy like some feral, rutting animal. His only goal was to shoot a new, hot sticky load of churning semen deep up my submissive, abused fuck hole. He'd last shot into me nearly a week ago, and that had only been down my throat!
"Jesus, Leland!" Loretta exclaimed. "Don't know many bitches who can take all of your junk. Honey, you in a special club of cunts!"
"Don't let praise go to your head, White Slut! I'm trying to teach you be humble!" My innate submissiveness wasn't good enough for him. He cracked his heavy palm against my aching ass, and I screamed, "I won't!" Having a cunt big enough for Leland's mighty, pounding pylon was no praise. I feared it would inspire him to take me more frequently!
He kept humping long, swift strokes. Leland had barricaded his mind against my weeping. I sobbed from unbearable humiliation before his whore friend. He slid his hands along the sides of my thrashing body, shoving them under my tits and began to maul them. I groaned over and over again as he maniacally rode my straining fuck split which was barely able to accommodate his desire. His grinding groin smacked my helplessly ass until the wet thud of his loins resounded in the tiny room. Big fingers tugged at my dangling nipples while he savagely pummeled me.
"Nooooooooo!" I was unused such pain! And yet a buffer grew between his abuse and my experience of it, as if soft clouds formed in my mind and absorbed half. I didn't understand those clouds which seemed to hide merciful, joyful angels.
"Shut up Bitch and move it - move your ass," he growled.
"Please, Leland, you're killing me!" I blubbered.
"Hump your sorry, whipped ass!" he commanded, painfully squeezing my full tits.
I sobbed and commenced a jerky, unwilling rotation of my agonized ass up against his riveting cock, praying his fingernails cutting into my hanging tits would relent. Long red marks followed the paths of his punishing fingers scraping down my sides! My misery and subjugation grew proportionately to his savage lust.
His long, hard strokes beat my wet, tightly clasping passage. With each out-thrust, he withdrew his rigid hardness until only the lust-swollen head remained inside my tortured cunt. Then he would lunge with animal strength until his scrotum hair tangled my cunt curls. I groaned helplessly as my straining vagina was plundered by his bestial onslaught, my ripe body driven forward with each jackhammering. His large hands kept me from slipping off his lengthy skewer. Leland's monstrous cock head kept diving in and out of my aching cunt.
"Leland, I never seen you like this. I'd be afraid of you giving me a beating and fucking so mean."
"I'm not book smart, Loretta." He growled. "This the only way I know to educate a privileged white woman."
My tormentor suddenly speeded his penetration of my defenseless pussy, pummeling my burning ass without mercy nor care for my pleasure. The sound of his deep animal grunts filled the room, along with my pitiful moans, them mingling with the noise of flesh slapping against abused flesh and the moist sound of his pile-driving cock lancing through my tortured cunt! Ignoring my cries of agony and shame, he grasped and pinched my tits again.
I could only imagine he wanted to possess and slowly destroy this white cunt who had never shown any willingness to accept his rapes, nor given any sign of enjoying them. Distended by lust, his angrily pulsing cock swelled in my tight pussy until I could dare hope my suffering would end or at least the strange, buffering clouds in my head would protect me better.
Leland plunged deep, deep up into my trembling cunt, ramming mercilessly. I wanted to withhold my squeals, because I was sure he enjoyed them, but my willpower had surrendered. The soft clouds hugging my senses remained fuzzy as to their origin, but they were indeed merciful. Still, I cried out again and again with each angry thrust and finger dig into my nipples. Goaded my by tempered cries, Leland stroked harder and harder, his steel hard battering flesh splitting my tightly yielding pussy as an axe would a log.
"Ooooh, please, please stop!" I wailed. "I can't take all of you - you're oh, Gods!"
Harder and faster he fucked, a crazed bull without any feeling except with his wildly moving prick. Leland committed entirely to fucking his lesson into me! Our junk crashed together with lewdly responding slaps and my outcries, colliding with sadistic repetition. My stomach churned, but my loins increased their lubrication and through a veiled mechanism strengthened my virtual pain barrier.
Leland kept drubbing in and out of me, like some mad machine or rutting beast spurred to new effort from the heated buildup inside his seething loins. The base of his cock jammed into my tightly quivering cunt! I knew with a certainty now that he was about to cum. He rammed forward with all his energy, the full extent of his incited cock cruelly impacted my battered cervix.
"AAAA!!!" I yelled, a futile gesture which may have triggered his eruption. Boiling, impatient sperm burst from his loins, and he crushed my mauled breasts.
"Hnnnn!" Loretta also reacted to my outcry, smugly hiding her deduction of its meaning."
Wildly, Leland tugged on my tits, and his mighty cock swelled from the rush of sperm through it. He howled as he came. Thick goo scalded my insides, fiery bursts flooding the overflowing cavern of my packed pussy. Leland pumped his spitting dick a few times in an effort to milk his balls completely dry with my shuddering cunt, but the enormous shaft continued to spew cum until his pubic hair was matted and our shaking thighs were saturated with the run-off.
I sought Loretta, with tear-glazed begging eyes as the last hot dregs of sticky sperm spewed into my pussy. He fell forward, crushing me down against the cot. He sudden weight against my burning behind, sent additional shockwaves through my battered soul. However, I was nearly numb to pain by then. I couldn't believe I had remained conscious through my ordeal.
Loretta's voice was void of sass. "I used to ask Leland to be my pimp, when I wasn't so messed about. His wife urged him to make that kind of money, but he refused. He said he never wanted to be so mean to a cunt. Shelly-"
"Shut the fuck up, Whore!" Leland roared! His prick began to retreat, to grow limp, and he breathed deeply, no satisfaction in his voice.
I lay still then, staring at the scarred woman, my tear-streaked face a contorted mass of pain. She stepped over and petted my hair. She didn't have to bend over to reach it. "Don't think, from now on, you got a choice in whatever Leland wants."
"I won't." I sobbed. "I know that now."
To Leland, she muttered something about making a woman cum but not letting her enjoy it. It didn't make any sense to me.
He ignored her and rolled off of me, sticky cum stretching from his pubes to mine as his prick sluiced out of my spunk drenched cunt. He sat up on the end of the cot, looking away from me.
Loretta gave sympathy with her eyes and gentle pets but sent no clue of her smug understanding of my experience.
Rapid blows struck the stinking room's door! "Time's up, you black bitch! There better not be a dick in you, or I'll take what that costs out of your hide!" Jason yelled.
The mutilated whore picked up her clothes and hurried to answer the door. "All right, all right already, Daddy." She began donning her plastic garb in front of the young, white pimp.
He looked her over and decided he hadn't been cheated. "How did the lesson go?"
"It not my place to tell." She hustled him away from the room. Somehow she had leeway under Jason's strict control. That didn't get my attention at the time.
"C-can I go home?" I whimpered, curling up into a ball, my ass still on fire.
"We still got ten minutes for the room. Come over here and clean me. He meant, suck him.
Leland grabbed my head and forced my mouth on his sagging prick before I could see his face.
I licked and sucked until he said, "Time's up. Get your things, Colleen." His prick had only gotten softer in my busy mouth. He went out into the hall and closed the open door, allowing me to dress in private. My mind was too fried to think anything of it.
Leland escorted me down the stairs and out into the street where the two men at the entrance laughed at me and gave him arm-bar gestures. "HNNGGHH! HNNGGHH!" They grunted, smiling. "Fug dat whi-wom!" They parodied their own speech patterns.
Leland nodded, but he didn't smile. He'd kept a blank expression since I met him outside the hotel room's door.
We walked to my car. "How old is Loretta?"
"She's 47, been whoring since she was 15. I told her years ago to go independent, but she likes the goodies pimps give for bonuses."
I remembered how Jason tried to sell a drug for Loretta's enjoyment. "She's hooked?"
"Nah, likes to get high from time to time. Pimps take a whore's money, all of it and pays for the things he decides she needs."
When we reached my tired Volvo, I surprised myself. "Do you need a ride?"
"You just want me to drive, so you don't have to sit on your sorry ass." He snorted and walked into the neighborhood's gloom.
At every stop, I had to lift my butt from the agonizing car seat. Several times, cars behind me honked when I hesitated in front of a green light.
When I reached our home's street, I parked away from the house and examined my face in the mirror. I looked like the mess I had been brutalized into. Makeup had run over my chin, down my neck, and onto the tops of my breasts. My face was like a gender bending rocker's after an intense performance.
I got out of the Volvo and fluffed the back of my skirt to cool my inflamed butt. I had stuffed my panties in my purse before leaving the hotel room. I sneaked into our backyard, quietly unlocking the gate and shutting it behind me. I wondered how George had handled my time of infidelity. Our bedroom window was dark. I crept to the back door and put my ear to its small window.
"Daddy, Ridley changed the channel again!" Peg wailed from the front room.
"I had to, Pop. She only watches stupid stuff. Don't I get a turn?" Ridley defended loudly.
"Figure it out between yourselves. You're too old to act that immaturely." My husband spoke softly, but he was close to the back door. I heard him clearly. Peeking, I saw him sitting at the table, tapping idly on the display tablet's screen. Only its dim screen and light from the living room illuminated the kitchen. I saw his slumping outline, and my heart weighed heavier for it.
I considered washing my face using the garden hose, but my makeup needed soap or cold cream to remove fully. I dared to unlock the back door and ease it open just enough to look through. "George!" I hissed softly.
Dull eyes turned on me. "Wha-"
"Shhhhh!" I interrupted. "I can't let the kids see me."
His body turned slowly. A flash of concern wiped off his vacant looking face. I quailed, waiting for his judgement. Would he flush me from our home and send me away forever? I wouldn't have blamed him. Hells, I wanted encourage that. I was no longer a wife to him, but a toy for another man's pleasure. Somehow, hope remained in my heart.
"Kids!" He shouted suddenly. Fuck, he wanted to them know how far I had fallen.
"I'll give you twenty dollars to go to the store and get ice cream. You mom will be home soon.
"What flavor, Daddy?" That was Peg's limited ability to suck up to her father.
"I want Rocky Road!" Ridley shouted.
I closed the door when feet thudded closer. He gave them each ten dollars. "Get two pints and keep the change."
Our young teens dashed to the front. I stepped inside after hearing that door slam shut. I hung my head and started crying.
"Come on, Leen." George came over and hugged me gently. "The one thing I can understand is how awful this is for you."
"If you only knew-"
"My imagination is bad enough."
He helped me to our private bathroom and sat on our bed while I washed my face. He said, "I didn't hear the car."
"I left it down the street." I turned to him from the sink's mirror, but he was already heading out of our bedroom. He moved the car to our driveway and returned.
I was in the bath, soaking my burning behind in hot water and plenty of bubble-bath. I didn't dare let him see my deep bruises.
"Can I come in?"
"Please, Honey. I don't deserve your forgiveness." I tried to joke. "Until maybe tomorrow."
He shook his head and frowned. "What can I do?"
"Stop thinking about me." I elaborated. "I don't mean stop caring. I would die if I lost your affection. I literally mean, don't think about me during the times I'm gone. That would eat up your insides. Two personalities, remember?"
"I'll try." He sighed. "H-how long until-" His voice trailed off.
"Until the next time?" I shook my head. "I don't know, but it'll probably be soon. I think he wants to prove something."
My husband clenched his lips tight, draining the blood from them. "Do you want me to sleep on the couch tonight?"
"For the gods sakes!" I burst angrily! "I'm the one who should sleep on the couch! I've wronged you horribly."
"I feel numb, Colleen." His hands trembled at his sides.
"Give me a second alone." I asked.
Nodding, he shut our bathroom door between us. I got out of the tub and tied a towel around my hips, flinching from the pressure of fluffy terrycloth on my asscheeks. I opened the door and went to him, hugging my husband with my soapy tits and arms. "Feel me, please. I'm back, and I'm yours."
George tenuously returned my embrace, slower than he had when he met me at the kitchen door.
"Mom doesn't like marshmallows!" Peg accused from the living room.
"Sure she does!" Ridley argued. "Everybody likes marshmallows."
Soon there was a knock. "We got ice cream!" Our son announced. "Peg got boring old strawberry."
"Strawberry's good for you! Healthier than Rocky Road. Actual road probably tastes better."
"Mooom!" They must have seen my car in the driveway.
"Ignore them." I whispered.
He told them, "Fix yourselves some. Your mother and I need our sleep."
"Oooo-lala!" Peg sang. They went away and argued in the kitchen while scooping ice cream.
I grabbed my pajamas and dried myself off in the bathroom with the door shut again. Re-emerging into our bedroom, I found George laying down, staring at the ceiling.
I crept under the covers, rested on my left side, and nuzzled my face against a shoulder. He threaded that arm under my neck until he was hugging me to his chest.
I fell asleep.
...to be continued...
In Her Own Bedroom
Chapter 6
When I wandered into the kitchen to break my fast the next morning, Peg and Ridley had left for school, and George was heading to work. He came up to me but hesitated before pecking my cheek with his lips.
I bit my lip. I wanted to tell him to have a better day at work than he had at home. I turned my head in time to touch my lips briefly to his as he swept past. "I love you."
He turned back from heading out and took me in an arm. "We'll figure it out. Two people in love have the best chance."
I wanted to chase him as he left the house and drove away.
My meal consisted of whole grain toast with Nutella. I needed comfort food.
Starting work that day with a sugar high, prevented my self-deprecation from controlling me. I worked steadily and efficiently. The doorbell rang while I was having lunch.
It was Leland, standing at my door like a salesman. He wore decently clean clothes, but his shoes had split seams. "Colleen." He said simply.
I stood still, shocked to the core, but I didn't stammer. "Why are you at my house?" I made it clear about the violation he was committing.
"Because I can." He gave the brutal truth. "Are you alone?"
I regretted nodding, but he was here to upset my expectations about us.
"Are you expecting anyone soon?"
I shook my head.
He walked in and guided himself on a tour of my home. I trailed behind, shame tearing my insides. In the kitchen, he noticed my work laptop and shut the lid. He only took one step into each of the kid's rooms, looked around, and frowned. In my bedroom he opened and shut all the dresser drawers, mine and George's, exploring only with his eyes fortunately.
He looked through our bathroom cabinet and grabbed a bottle with two tablets of Oxycodone. "Nasty stuff." He pocketed it. He found my birth control pills and took those too. "No more of these. Do you hear?"
"Leland," I began, panic making my heart race. "You can't think-"
"I'll tell you what to think, Cunt!" He shouted suddenly, shaking the half used, thin plastic case at me. "It's now your responsibility to see that you don't get pregnant. No drugs! Do you understand?"
"It's not like you're going to wear a condom."
"And you better never wear one of of those for women." He glowered.
"When I'm fertile, will you let me suck you instead?"
"How would you know that?" He was ignorant of the very effective techniques which long ago replaced the stupid, Rhythm Method. Even the Catholic church had adopted various systems of Natural Birth Control.
I waited, hoping he would answer my question.
He opened the case and dumped my pills into the toilet.
"Or my anus." Panic motivated me to offer the other 'safe' hole. I had tried it a few times with George. Neither of us cared for it. With Leland, however, I feared he would beat my butt cheeks raw before ramming his huge dick up my asshole. That would be preferable to conceiving and having to get an abortion.
"Let's get this over with." He took a deep breath and hissed it loudly through his nostrils. Sitting on the end of my marriage bed, he patted his lap. "Come on. I need to warm you up." He meant he wanted his dick to warm up. Sadism was definitely a thing for him, but I was beginning to suspect he had his limits.
"Please, Leland, I can barely sit today. I had to work standing up!"
"Do you want me to take out my belt?"
I shook my head. He gave clear signs of impatience until I started pulling down my pants and underwear. Humiliated, I bent over his lap and lay my belly across it. I clenched my teeth.
SMACK! His right hand made a loud noise. My mouth made a louder one. That first swat wasn't heavy, but it hurt worse than last night's first angry strikes of his belt. "AAAA!!!" I shouted! He held me down with his left hand. His right continued to rain blows against my bruised cheeks.
"AAAA!!"
"AAAAAA!!!"
"GODS!! PLEASE!!!" I felt him getting hard beneath my bellybutton.
CRACK!!
I kept wailing as he spanked my inflamed ass! I prayed none of the neighbors would hear. I suspected nothing would happen if someone did. George and I are acquainted with our neighbors, but not well enough share barbecues or dinner parties.
I lost count of his strikes, but when his dick was particularly hard he stopped. "Take off your top things and suck me."
When his left hand let go, I fell off his lap, onto the carpet. I managed to prevent my ass from crashing into it. I didn't care if I broke my neck to avoid crashing on my butt. Kneeling before him, I tore off my simple, work blouse. I pulled my tits and arms out of the the bra and spun it around to unfasten the clasp. Fully naked, except for pants and panties around my ankles, I bowed to his rising prick and gulped down the most I could suck comfortable. I brushed my hair from my face before servicing Leland's big black cock.
It grew another two inches before it was fully erect. When Leland grabbed my hair and forced my head down, choking me with his prick, I was as ready as I could be. I managed to gag and cough against his throat clogging head for nearly thirty seconds. When he pulled my head away, he grunted. "Get on your bed, White Bitch."
I climbed over the end and crawled towards my pillows. I started to rise up on my hands and knees, but he grabbed my right hip and toppled me onto my back. I whimpered from shame and throbbing pain in my behind. Leland stood from the bed and turned around. Before climbing on top of me, he pulled off the garments around my ankles. "Spread for me, Bitch. My prick wants a wide welcome!" The rampant member twitched to his heartbeat.
I spread my legs. Searing pain from my butt made me wince. Even my labia clenched briefly. He climbed between my wide open thighs and lowered his hips. He grabbed my tits, small bruises dotting them, but worked them without adding to my suffering. His right hand kept groping. He pulled back his left, to fit his dick head into my pussy lips. While he rubbed the meaty head along my gaping slit, he lowered his lips to mine and stuck his tongue into my cock flavored mouth. It tasted like the worst breath!
When his cock found the divot leading to my cunt, he pushed the head through and slowly fed my sore fuck hole with randy inches. They slid easily through a well lubricated canal. I was still stymied as to why I had gotten wet when I had no interest in what he was doing - except to stop it. Yet, soft clouds began to form a protective screen around my suffering mind. Our tongues swirled. His left hand returned to my tits. My nipples took the brunt of their efforts.
Leland pushed every inch of his black snake into my wet recess. He paused, possibly to focus on fucking his tongue in my face and pinching my nipples. I groaned from their abuse. I hollered when he raised up, pulling half from my pussy and then commenced fucking me with fat strokes of prick! His weight slammed into my hips, forcing my aching ass deep into the mattress.
"OOOWWWWW!!!"
"Take that black cock, Bitch, all of it! Work. That. Cunt." He growled.
It pained me worse to thrust my hips up against his downstrokes which crashed my ass back down into the bed! "Hhhhhhh!!!" I gasped and wailed.
Leland maintained a steady fucking. I feared he was going to fuck me for hours. That time when he fucked me slowly while the sun set, had proved his stamina.
After five minutes, my hip muscles gave out, humping slower against his pistoning prick.
He sped up then, doubling his fuck strokes per second. He was panting harder too, pulling his face and tongue away. If I hadn't known better, I would have guessed that Leland was about to cum. The pain from him bashing my ass into the mattress, doubled too, but through the delightful barrier I felt a quarter of it. My whines and groans radiated through the house.
"Oh, gods, Shelly!" His body slammed the next stroke powerfully into my cunt, bashing my beaten cervix. His hips bucked on top of me like a bull on its back. Something burst inside my head, and I screamed.
His loins opened internally, launching the first of many, many blasts of hot cum against my strained, cervical entrance. I was astonished to feel the unanticipated gouts of semen flooding my well fucked pussy! I stared up, shock on my face, but he had turned his head away.
Cum flowed into me, a steady stream of it. Something happened to me, equally unexpected. My groin lurched under the hot fluid bubbling from our locked organs. A wave of relief washed up my body and eased my thoughts. The amount of pleasure wasn't even close to what my littlest orgasms produced. Instead of feeling greater embarrassment, I welcomed the pain relief that it provided. I grunted then, grateful for even the small space it placed between me and my body's suffering.
"Unngh. Unng." I don't think Leland heard me, or I would have been totally shamed.
"This is a good bed." He spoke, face still turned away.
We lay motionless for a time. At one point he dropped his head next to mine, his face rested flat upon the covers. I listened while his fast breaths slowed.
Pain from my weighted ass continued to swim, eventually overriding the brief relieve my strange climax had brought. I hadn't felt any arousal building before my hips shuddered from his ejaculating, embedded cock. Apparently I fully repressed the emotions which had burst when I screamed.
It wasn't more than a minute, after cumming deep inside of me, before he rolled over onto George's side of the bed. His dick drew out half of his expended seed upon the coveres between my widespread thighs. It flopped over with him and arched like a black rainbow.
We lay, side by side, me wanting to crawl away but remaining still, praying for my ass to cool.
"I'm hungry." He stated. I looked at him as if he was a monster.
Hobbling into the kitchen, I fixed an egg salad sandwich, chips, and peeled an orange. I brought the plate and a cold root beer to my bedroom.
"Nah, I'll eat it in the kitchen." He glanced at the mess we made and got up from the bed. Grimacing, Leland took the plate and glass of soda from me and wandered down the hall. I took the clue and went about scrubbing his cum and my pussy slime out of the covers. Fortunately, they were polyester and hadn't soaked deeply.
I went to the kitchen and stood next to my computer. Half naked, he sat eating while I awaited whatever would happen next. He had me go to my knees and clean his withdrawn prick while he continued to scarf down the food I had provided.
"Okay. Get up, unless you want another go." His cock hadn't grown under my oral cleansing. I guessed further sucking would restore its randiness. That was the last thing I wanted.
I crawled out from under the table. He had me fetch his clothes.
"Would you like a bath?"
"Nah. I good. Maybe next time." He pointed at the hall. "Dress me."
My heart clenched. How soon would be next time? After fetching his discarded clothes from my bedroom, I worried while helping him dress. Not that he needed help, he was just exercising his authority over me.
"I need some cash for the bus."
"Let me look." I was instantly grateful that he didn't want me to drive him. I brought back my transit card. "There's over thirty dollars on this."
"Fuck that!" He knocked the card from my hand. "I ain't gonna let you track me!" His ignorant conspiracy fear surprised me. He went to my purse and fished out the cash in it. I don't typically carry much in this age of electronic payments.
"Not even a twenty!" He scoffed but pocketed the cash and went to the front door. Without another word, he opened it, strode out, and closed it behind him.
My knees wobbled and nearly sank to the cold kitchen tiles. I started breathing hard and staggered to the living room couch. I fell headlong into it, unconscious from the moment my tits hit the cushions.
***
"Momma?" A distant voice seeped into a partially lucid dream. I was floating on a river, surrounded by logs, rushed headlong towards the sawmill.
"Momma!" My body shuddered as I woke from Ridley's exclamation of concern.
"What happened?"
"GODS!" I lurched up, curling away, covering my chest, wincing from the the moment my ass twisted upon the leather cushions.
My son ignored my turning from him. He was too astonished. "Your bottom is really dark!"
"RIDLEY!" I shouted. "Get my robe from my bedroom! Now!" I couldn't just leap up and run away naked in front of my youngest child! He hesitated, jaw wanting to speak, but he dashed into the hall. I called after him. "Don't look at me when you come back!"
Seconds later I watched him enter. He took a last peek at my bare back and the red tops of my burning butt cheeks before closing his eyes. He tossed my robe across the room. I didn't dare uncover my right breast to catch it. It landed beside me, and I sorta shrank under it's protection before grabbing it.
"Turn away." I said while standing and wrapping the thick yellow robe around my recently violated body. "Where's your sister?"
"I don't know. She's not here?" It wasn't unusual for Peg to spend time with girlfriends before returning home. My son didn't like that I continued to avoid his question. "Mom! Why is your bottom so dark?"
"Mommy fell in the kitchen. That's why I was resting." It was a quick and shallow lie, but Ridley often favored my words, unless they deprived him of something.
"Oh." He frowned. "I'm sorry."
"I'm more sorry." I tried humor.
Ridley giggled. The boy was thirteen, but he still giggled like a seven year old.
"You have to be extra sweet while my bum heals, okay?"
Favor didn't give a pass to being manipulated. "I'm always sweet!"
"If only. You have to help make supper tonight."
"Aww."
I proceed to hobble into the kitchen and look through the cupboards and refrigerator. "What should I make?"
"Donuts!"
"We can phone your father to pick up some, but that's not supper." I offered. "There's left over rib roast."
"Okay." He shrugged.
"But there's not enough for everyone."
"You can have my roast."
"Didn't you like it?"
"I like you more." He was genuinely sorry that I had fell and hurt myself. I wasn't used to that amount of empathy from him, even though I had always considered him to be somewhat of a mommy's boy. I supposed every son was a bit of one.
"I didn't break or twist anything." I felt a need to reassure him. "The swelling and bruises will go away in a few days." They would if Leland would stop visiting and calling me out.
Peg arrived while her brother and I were discussing supper. He launched himself at her while she was closing the front door. "You gotta be nice, Peg. Momma got hurt today!" He ran towards her.
"What'd she do, cut her finger?" She mocked him. "Mom!"
I sighed and came to the living room entrance. "Yes?"
"The brat said you're hurt?"
I had to continue the lie. "I fell on my butt, if you have to know. There's some bruising, and I'm a little stiff. I'll be fine."
Peg had seen me hobble slightly. "Good." She took her backpack to her room and shut the door.
"You know you could help her!" Ridley yelled into the hall.
"Mom needs to do it. It's called rehabilitation." Was her emphatic, unsympathetic reply.
"Mom! Make her go to bed without supper!" He demanded. I had never punished my children that way, rarely punishing them at all, which was partly the reason I had fallen into the evil situation I desperately tried to hide from my children.
"Then there'll be enough roast for us and ***!" He beamed with pride.
I ended up cutting my share of the roast and splitting it with Peg during dinner.
"Mom, my body is growing up, I need more food than this." She complained. I had given her half servings of potatoes, peas, carrots, before sharing my roast, because she usually complained that I was fattening her.
George, who had been quieter than usual around the ****** for the past few days, surprised me. "Maybe you're growing in the wrong direction." He had heard her complain about "all the food" I forced her to eat. I held back a chortle.
"Peg's getting fa-at!" Ridley gloated and sang.
"Suck it, Brat! I bet you caused Mom's fall today."
George and I locked eyes.
"Leen, maybe I'm the one getting fat. I need you to measure me, in our room."
We stood up from the table.
"Now?" Ridley couldn't believe it.
"You're so naive." Peg snickered but mused aloud. "I wonder what set them off."
George and I entered the room and shut the door, both worried but for different reasons. He went as far as the bathroom, faced me and implored, "You're hurt?"
I couldn't lie to him, though I wanted to spare him. "It's best if you don't ask. It will heal just fine in a few days. It's nothing serious."
"Did that bastard hurt you?"
"If I refuse to answer, will you let it go?"
He grumbled in the back of his throat. "Yes, damnit."
All of a sudden, a horrible scenario occurred to me. If my husband ever got the notion that he could 'save' me, and decided to sacrifice himself for me- I would probably kill myself. I needed him alive and as content as possible during my degrading affair with a much older black man.
"Sit with me." I went the the end of the bed where, hours earlier I had Leland's large cock in my sucking, licking mouth. My husband's incredible, possibly misplaced faith in me moved him to my side. I kept my voice low. "George, I have to make you understand that you absolutely mustn't involve yourself with my evil personality. She will turn against you, every time. What she does with 'that bastard' should be no longer relevant to your marriage to me."
"You can't install a switch in my heart, Colleen." He was incredibly frustrated!
"Yes, I'm being unrealistic, but if you don't train yourself to switch off your feelings when I'm being evil, external forces will eventually break your heart."
"You would do that to me?" He glowered.
"Never! I'm doing everything I can to keep your heart with mine!" I passionately took his hands. Allow me to try something. If it doesn't work or gets too weird, only time will be wasted."
"I trust you." He gripped my hands. George genuinely wanted to learn to cope with my ongoing infidelity.
It started with a kiss, my lips brushing his before pressing heavily against them. I took his head in my hands and bandied our kiss about until his tension softened. My hands dropped to his pants, and I unzipped them. Usually I would push his pants down for a handjob, but I wanted my efforts to feel raw, chaotic, improvised. I slid off the bed and onto the floor, for easy access to my husband's sweet dick.
His lungs breathed a little deeper as I slowly worked his soft dick and hairy balls with both my hands. "I'm going to tell you a story, George, and it's happening right now, with us in our bedroom and the curtains mostly open." To be clear, our actual curtains were nearly closed, and our privacy was quite assured.
"I'm on my knees, just like this, and you have been anxious for signs that I still love you. It's my job to convince you, but the universe has strange ways of warping the best of intentions."
"This is new." George sounded less upset, cautious at the worst. He didn't know what my plan was. "You usually only take charge if we're pretending."
"I'm making this about you, tonight, My Love." I gave him my warmest smile. "Here I am, massaging your penis- No, your boner - you are enjoying this!" I winked. His dick was firming quickly. I repurposed one of my busy hands to the task of unbuttoning my blouse.
"You take an experienced guess that I'll be sucking your cock soon, but something in the yard grabs your attention. A neighbor has hurdled the fence to fetch a toy that perhaps his child threw into our backyard." George immediately looked through small gap in the curtains. There was nothing out in back. I used his distraction to shuck my open blouse and unsnap my bra. The cups dangled across my belly, my tits in full from my husband's height advantage.
I resumed my tale, drawing his attention back to me, and he smiled. I don't think George ever tires of seeing my boobs. Or he is a wonderful actor.
"The neighbor steps quickly to fetch the toy but pauses. While concerned about being discovered, he notices us through the window. The toy is forgotten as the man slinks to our shed and ducks behind, peeping around it." I took a moment to consider what would happen next in my tale, taking well into account how my husband's stiffening peter reacted. It continued to harden if not faster.
"The neighbor watches me, George, growing excited by my boobs and my aparent submission to you. He leans farther from his hiding spot to look closer. At that moment you see him, and your eyes lock together. You both freeze up in the moment of mutual discovery. I follow your stare and also see the man who is now unsure what to do. I say, 'let him watch, My Love.' He's probably harmless, and I want to show him that I'm totally yours.
"What do you do, George?"
My husband's mind raced, his heart beating quickly. I could tell by the pulse in his nearly full pecker. But also, my fingers detected it soften slightly. I learned later, that he was piecing together the purpose of my multi-sensory tale. He judged it was an example of proving my love to him. Poor George would eventually be proven wrong but not disappointed. He answered, "I grin at the man. Do I know him?"
"No, Honey. Remember our neighborhood isn't very chummy. The man slowly grins back. He steps out from behind the shed and watches unabashedly."
George's penis jerked in my hand to full hardness. I slowed my strokes. He was not unhappy that my story peeper was watching a half naked wife (me) give her husband (George) a loving handjob. I knew what to say.
"Your eyes meet again, but you feel strange suddenly. The man's intense gaze is a little intimidating. He steps closer to our window and he gestures, opening his mouth and fucking two of his fingers in and out of it.
"I see him too, in a corner of my field of view, but my eyes are on you and your beautiful, hard cock. When the man gestures, you hesitate before taking my head and pulling it closer to your stiff rod."
"I'm not sure I would do that." George started to complain.
"Shhh, Dearest, in the story you do." I move one of his hands to my hair.
"This isn't interactive?"
"No, George." I shook my head and eyed him like a school marm. He leaned back slightly. "Only if I ask a question." I released his aroused manhood, open my mouth, and suck in his full, hard length!
OH! The taste surprised me! I hadn't given head to my dear husband since Leland ***** my mouth for the first time. His sour and dirty dick disgusted me! The taste of George's penis washed away that trauma, at least for that moment. My sweet, sweet George tasted as wonderful as carmel, white chocolate, or even the finest custard. My heart beat fast, and I began devouring the hard shaft fully enclosed in my mouth! I nearly forgot my larger plan.
"OHH, Honey! That feels incredible!" His loving palm patted my head, instead of gripping and forcing me to mouth fuck him.
I had to tear myself off of his delicious prick, to continue the story. "I'm still sucking you, as the man outside directed. He is emboldened by your accommodation to his suggestion. The man comes right up to the window and stares confidently as I suck on your sweet dick." In reality, I had reverted to slowly jacking my man's saliva soaked member.
"I'm not sure I like this, Leen." George declared, but his body had a different response. His heart rate increased again, and his dick grew hot in my hand.
"The man speaks just loud enough to be heard through the window. He wants to come in and get a better look. He doesn't ask, and his eyes dare you to deny him."
"He can't come in, Colleen." George was panting. "Ohh- oohh."
"I'm sorry George, the man's intensity is too much for you. He disappears from the window, heading for the back door."
"OOOAAAHH!!!" My husband's body lurched! I dove my mouth back to his twitching prick and caught his spurting seed. George's abrupt ejaculate tasted nearly as wonderful as his dick! "MMMmmmmmm!!!" I moaned and hummed, drinking quickly. My attention fixated on the gooey richness and lightly salty almost meaty flavor! Normally, I don't care much for the taste of cum. My rare lovers before I married had markedly different flavors. None compelled me to be more than a cocksucker who drank a pecker dry only to be polite. I gulped and gulped on my man's wonderful fountain.
"Leen!" He startled me. "You're going to leave a hickey." He smiled. His dick's eruption had died quickly, and I found myself sucking an empty straw. I pulled away, trying mask a sudden flash of shame.
"Sorry." I looked away in case I was blushing.
"What do you mean?" He nearly bounced on our bed. "That was incredible!"
"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm going to brush my teeth." I typically did that after swallowing my husband's semen, but this time was to hide my embarrassment for wishing he had cum more into my mouth. George lay satisfied on our bed while I brushed.
When I emerged from our private bath, he asked, "So what kind of experiment was that?"
I lied. "Oh, just to see if you might like storytelling during sex." I gulped the residual flavor of mint toothpaste, worried that he might catch on.
"Well, it worked great!" He beamed. "I'm not sure I want a story every time, but when you're game and I'm game, let's do it."
I sat beside him and leaned into his warmth. "Sure, Honey." I spoke on auto-pilot but stared absently at the drawn, auburn curtains.
His bubbly mood settled when he noticed my listlessness. "You look like you're missing something. Do you need some loving? I'd enjoy reciprocating."
"That sounds fun." I made myself brighten. "But I'd rather wait for you to recharge and give me the whole enchilada." I winked.
He bounced his eyebrows. "Say no more. Say no more."
George's mood changed abruptly. My weak excitement must have worried him. "I can't imagine what you're going through, let alone what you've been through, Leen. Don't push yourself to accommodate me. I loved what you did tonight but if was at mental expense to you - don't." He put arm around me which felt good. I nestled my head into the crook of his neck and took his other hand in my left.
"I'll make it through this awful, hopefully transient time. Your growing strength is very inspiring! One thing I need to remind you, though. I'm not the only one not getting enough attention in our ******."
A bolt of guilt struck me, when I remembered Ridley's birthday. "Oh, no. It's next week."
"Uh-huh." He nodded.
Ridley was going to turn fourteen, and I hadn't started to plan for it. Leland's pogrom of corruption had scattered the important things in my life. I hardly knew what day it was. I felt awful!
"There's still enough time to prepare." George rattled off possible themes, and I did my best to pay attention and respond with suggestions.
Later that night, before my husband curled up and slept, I sucked his savory penis until it was hard enough to mount. I rode my husband like a mare in heat on a donkey, finally cumming after a long workout by remembering the man in our backyard and how he directed George to make me suck him. Except, in that version, George made me suck the neighbor.
...to be continued...
When I wandered into the kitchen to break my fast the next morning, Peg and Ridley had left for school, and George was heading to work. He came up to me but hesitated before pecking my cheek with his lips.
I bit my lip. I wanted to tell him to have a better day at work than he had at home. I turned my head in time to touch my lips briefly to his as he swept past. "I love you."
He turned back from heading out and took me in an arm. "We'll figure it out. Two people in love have the best chance."
I wanted to chase him as he left the house and drove away.
My meal consisted of whole grain toast with Nutella. I needed comfort food.
Starting work that day with a sugar high, prevented my self-deprecation from controlling me. I worked steadily and efficiently. The doorbell rang while I was having lunch.
It was Leland, standing at my door like a salesman. He wore decently clean clothes, but his shoes had split seams. "Colleen." He said simply.
I stood still, shocked to the core, but I didn't stammer. "Why are you at my house?" I made it clear about the violation he was committing.
"Because I can." He gave the brutal truth. "Are you alone?"
I regretted nodding, but he was here to upset my expectations about us.
"Are you expecting anyone soon?"
I shook my head.
He walked in and guided himself on a tour of my home. I trailed behind, shame tearing my insides. In the kitchen, he noticed my work laptop and shut the lid. He only took one step into each of the kid's rooms, looked around, and frowned. In my bedroom he opened and shut all the dresser drawers, mine and George's, exploring only with his eyes fortunately.
He looked through our bathroom cabinet and grabbed a bottle with two tablets of Oxycodone. "Nasty stuff." He pocketed it. He found my birth control pills and took those too. "No more of these. Do you hear?"
"Leland," I began, panic making my heart race. "You can't think-"
"I'll tell you what to think, Cunt!" He shouted suddenly, shaking the half used, thin plastic case at me. "It's now your responsibility to see that you don't get pregnant. No drugs! Do you understand?"
"It's not like you're going to wear a condom."
"And you better never wear one of of those for women." He glowered.
"When I'm fertile, will you let me suck you instead?"
"How would you know that?" He was ignorant of the very effective techniques which long ago replaced the stupid, Rhythm Method. Even the Catholic church had adopted various systems of Natural Birth Control.
I waited, hoping he would answer my question.
He opened the case and dumped my pills into the toilet.
"Or my anus." Panic motivated me to offer the other 'safe' hole. I had tried it a few times with George. Neither of us cared for it. With Leland, however, I feared he would beat my butt cheeks raw before ramming his huge dick up my asshole. That would be preferable to conceiving and having to get an abortion.
"Let's get this over with." He took a deep breath and hissed it loudly through his nostrils. Sitting on the end of my marriage bed, he patted his lap. "Come on. I need to warm you up." He meant he wanted his dick to warm up. Sadism was definitely a thing for him, but I was beginning to suspect he had his limits.
"Please, Leland, I can barely sit today. I had to work standing up!"
"Do you want me to take out my belt?"
I shook my head. He gave clear signs of impatience until I started pulling down my pants and underwear. Humiliated, I bent over his lap and lay my belly across it. I clenched my teeth.
SMACK! His right hand made a loud noise. My mouth made a louder one. That first swat wasn't heavy, but it hurt worse than last night's first angry strikes of his belt. "AAAA!!!" I shouted! He held me down with his left hand. His right continued to rain blows against my bruised cheeks.
"AAAA!!"
"AAAAAA!!!"
"GODS!! PLEASE!!!" I felt him getting hard beneath my bellybutton.
CRACK!!
I kept wailing as he spanked my inflamed ass! I prayed none of the neighbors would hear. I suspected nothing would happen if someone did. George and I are acquainted with our neighbors, but not well enough share barbecues or dinner parties.
I lost count of his strikes, but when his dick was particularly hard he stopped. "Take off your top things and suck me."
When his left hand let go, I fell off his lap, onto the carpet. I managed to prevent my ass from crashing into it. I didn't care if I broke my neck to avoid crashing on my butt. Kneeling before him, I tore off my simple, work blouse. I pulled my tits and arms out of the the bra and spun it around to unfasten the clasp. Fully naked, except for pants and panties around my ankles, I bowed to his rising prick and gulped down the most I could suck comfortable. I brushed my hair from my face before servicing Leland's big black cock.
It grew another two inches before it was fully erect. When Leland grabbed my hair and forced my head down, choking me with his prick, I was as ready as I could be. I managed to gag and cough against his throat clogging head for nearly thirty seconds. When he pulled my head away, he grunted. "Get on your bed, White Bitch."
I climbed over the end and crawled towards my pillows. I started to rise up on my hands and knees, but he grabbed my right hip and toppled me onto my back. I whimpered from shame and throbbing pain in my behind. Leland stood from the bed and turned around. Before climbing on top of me, he pulled off the garments around my ankles. "Spread for me, Bitch. My prick wants a wide welcome!" The rampant member twitched to his heartbeat.
I spread my legs. Searing pain from my butt made me wince. Even my labia clenched briefly. He climbed between my wide open thighs and lowered his hips. He grabbed my tits, small bruises dotting them, but worked them without adding to my suffering. His right hand kept groping. He pulled back his left, to fit his dick head into my pussy lips. While he rubbed the meaty head along my gaping slit, he lowered his lips to mine and stuck his tongue into my cock flavored mouth. It tasted like the worst breath!
When his cock found the divot leading to my cunt, he pushed the head through and slowly fed my sore fuck hole with randy inches. They slid easily through a well lubricated canal. I was still stymied as to why I had gotten wet when I had no interest in what he was doing - except to stop it. Yet, soft clouds began to form a protective screen around my suffering mind. Our tongues swirled. His left hand returned to my tits. My nipples took the brunt of their efforts.
Leland pushed every inch of his black snake into my wet recess. He paused, possibly to focus on fucking his tongue in my face and pinching my nipples. I groaned from their abuse. I hollered when he raised up, pulling half from my pussy and then commenced fucking me with fat strokes of prick! His weight slammed into my hips, forcing my aching ass deep into the mattress.
"OOOWWWWW!!!"
"Take that black cock, Bitch, all of it! Work. That. Cunt." He growled.
It pained me worse to thrust my hips up against his downstrokes which crashed my ass back down into the bed! "Hhhhhhh!!!" I gasped and wailed.
Leland maintained a steady fucking. I feared he was going to fuck me for hours. That time when he fucked me slowly while the sun set, had proved his stamina.
After five minutes, my hip muscles gave out, humping slower against his pistoning prick.
He sped up then, doubling his fuck strokes per second. He was panting harder too, pulling his face and tongue away. If I hadn't known better, I would have guessed that Leland was about to cum. The pain from him bashing my ass into the mattress, doubled too, but through the delightful barrier I felt a quarter of it. My whines and groans radiated through the house.
"Oh, gods, Shelly!" His body slammed the next stroke powerfully into my cunt, bashing my beaten cervix. His hips bucked on top of me like a bull on its back. Something burst inside my head, and I screamed.
His loins opened internally, launching the first of many, many blasts of hot cum against my strained, cervical entrance. I was astonished to feel the unanticipated gouts of semen flooding my well fucked pussy! I stared up, shock on my face, but he had turned his head away.
Cum flowed into me, a steady stream of it. Something happened to me, equally unexpected. My groin lurched under the hot fluid bubbling from our locked organs. A wave of relief washed up my body and eased my thoughts. The amount of pleasure wasn't even close to what my littlest orgasms produced. Instead of feeling greater embarrassment, I welcomed the pain relief that it provided. I grunted then, grateful for even the small space it placed between me and my body's suffering.
"Unngh. Unng." I don't think Leland heard me, or I would have been totally shamed.
"This is a good bed." He spoke, face still turned away.
We lay motionless for a time. At one point he dropped his head next to mine, his face rested flat upon the covers. I listened while his fast breaths slowed.
Pain from my weighted ass continued to swim, eventually overriding the brief relieve my strange climax had brought. I hadn't felt any arousal building before my hips shuddered from his ejaculating, embedded cock. Apparently I fully repressed the emotions which had burst when I screamed.
It wasn't more than a minute, after cumming deep inside of me, before he rolled over onto George's side of the bed. His dick drew out half of his expended seed upon the coveres between my widespread thighs. It flopped over with him and arched like a black rainbow.
We lay, side by side, me wanting to crawl away but remaining still, praying for my ass to cool.
"I'm hungry." He stated. I looked at him as if he was a monster.
Hobbling into the kitchen, I fixed an egg salad sandwich, chips, and peeled an orange. I brought the plate and a cold root beer to my bedroom.
"Nah, I'll eat it in the kitchen." He glanced at the mess we made and got up from the bed. Grimacing, Leland took the plate and glass of soda from me and wandered down the hall. I took the clue and went about scrubbing his cum and my pussy slime out of the covers. Fortunately, they were polyester and hadn't soaked deeply.
I went to the kitchen and stood next to my computer. Half naked, he sat eating while I awaited whatever would happen next. He had me go to my knees and clean his withdrawn prick while he continued to scarf down the food I had provided.
"Okay. Get up, unless you want another go." His cock hadn't grown under my oral cleansing. I guessed further sucking would restore its randiness. That was the last thing I wanted.
I crawled out from under the table. He had me fetch his clothes.
"Would you like a bath?"
"Nah. I good. Maybe next time." He pointed at the hall. "Dress me."
My heart clenched. How soon would be next time? After fetching his discarded clothes from my bedroom, I worried while helping him dress. Not that he needed help, he was just exercising his authority over me.
"I need some cash for the bus."
"Let me look." I was instantly grateful that he didn't want me to drive him. I brought back my transit card. "There's over thirty dollars on this."
"Fuck that!" He knocked the card from my hand. "I ain't gonna let you track me!" His ignorant conspiracy fear surprised me. He went to my purse and fished out the cash in it. I don't typically carry much in this age of electronic payments.
"Not even a twenty!" He scoffed but pocketed the cash and went to the front door. Without another word, he opened it, strode out, and closed it behind him.
My knees wobbled and nearly sank to the cold kitchen tiles. I started breathing hard and staggered to the living room couch. I fell headlong into it, unconscious from the moment my tits hit the cushions.
***
"Momma?" A distant voice seeped into a partially lucid dream. I was floating on a river, surrounded by logs, rushed headlong towards the sawmill.
"Momma!" My body shuddered as I woke from Ridley's exclamation of concern.
"What happened?"
"GODS!" I lurched up, curling away, covering my chest, wincing from the the moment my ass twisted upon the leather cushions.
My son ignored my turning from him. He was too astonished. "Your bottom is really dark!"
"RIDLEY!" I shouted. "Get my robe from my bedroom! Now!" I couldn't just leap up and run away naked in front of my youngest child! He hesitated, jaw wanting to speak, but he dashed into the hall. I called after him. "Don't look at me when you come back!"
Seconds later I watched him enter. He took a last peek at my bare back and the red tops of my burning butt cheeks before closing his eyes. He tossed my robe across the room. I didn't dare uncover my right breast to catch it. It landed beside me, and I sorta shrank under it's protection before grabbing it.
"Turn away." I said while standing and wrapping the thick yellow robe around my recently violated body. "Where's your sister?"
"I don't know. She's not here?" It wasn't unusual for Peg to spend time with girlfriends before returning home. My son didn't like that I continued to avoid his question. "Mom! Why is your bottom so dark?"
"Mommy fell in the kitchen. That's why I was resting." It was a quick and shallow lie, but Ridley often favored my words, unless they deprived him of something.
"Oh." He frowned. "I'm sorry."
"I'm more sorry." I tried humor.
Ridley giggled. The boy was thirteen, but he still giggled like a seven year old.
"You have to be extra sweet while my bum heals, okay?"
Favor didn't give a pass to being manipulated. "I'm always sweet!"
"If only. You have to help make supper tonight."
"Aww."
I proceed to hobble into the kitchen and look through the cupboards and refrigerator. "What should I make?"
"Donuts!"
"We can phone your father to pick up some, but that's not supper." I offered. "There's left over rib roast."
"Okay." He shrugged.
"But there's not enough for everyone."
"You can have my roast."
"Didn't you like it?"
"I like you more." He was genuinely sorry that I had fell and hurt myself. I wasn't used to that amount of empathy from him, even though I had always considered him to be somewhat of a mommy's boy. I supposed every son was a bit of one.
"I didn't break or twist anything." I felt a need to reassure him. "The swelling and bruises will go away in a few days." They would if Leland would stop visiting and calling me out.
Peg arrived while her brother and I were discussing supper. He launched himself at her while she was closing the front door. "You gotta be nice, Peg. Momma got hurt today!" He ran towards her.
"What'd she do, cut her finger?" She mocked him. "Mom!"
I sighed and came to the living room entrance. "Yes?"
"The brat said you're hurt?"
I had to continue the lie. "I fell on my butt, if you have to know. There's some bruising, and I'm a little stiff. I'll be fine."
Peg had seen me hobble slightly. "Good." She took her backpack to her room and shut the door.
"You know you could help her!" Ridley yelled into the hall.
"Mom needs to do it. It's called rehabilitation." Was her emphatic, unsympathetic reply.
"Mom! Make her go to bed without supper!" He demanded. I had never punished my children that way, rarely punishing them at all, which was partly the reason I had fallen into the evil situation I desperately tried to hide from my children.
"Then there'll be enough roast for us and ***!" He beamed with pride.
I ended up cutting my share of the roast and splitting it with Peg during dinner.
"Mom, my body is growing up, I need more food than this." She complained. I had given her half servings of potatoes, peas, carrots, before sharing my roast, because she usually complained that I was fattening her.
George, who had been quieter than usual around the ****** for the past few days, surprised me. "Maybe you're growing in the wrong direction." He had heard her complain about "all the food" I forced her to eat. I held back a chortle.
"Peg's getting fa-at!" Ridley gloated and sang.
"Suck it, Brat! I bet you caused Mom's fall today."
George and I locked eyes.
"Leen, maybe I'm the one getting fat. I need you to measure me, in our room."
We stood up from the table.
"Now?" Ridley couldn't believe it.
"You're so naive." Peg snickered but mused aloud. "I wonder what set them off."
George and I entered the room and shut the door, both worried but for different reasons. He went as far as the bathroom, faced me and implored, "You're hurt?"
I couldn't lie to him, though I wanted to spare him. "It's best if you don't ask. It will heal just fine in a few days. It's nothing serious."
"Did that bastard hurt you?"
"If I refuse to answer, will you let it go?"
He grumbled in the back of his throat. "Yes, damnit."
All of a sudden, a horrible scenario occurred to me. If my husband ever got the notion that he could 'save' me, and decided to sacrifice himself for me- I would probably kill myself. I needed him alive and as content as possible during my degrading affair with a much older black man.
"Sit with me." I went the the end of the bed where, hours earlier I had Leland's large cock in my sucking, licking mouth. My husband's incredible, possibly misplaced faith in me moved him to my side. I kept my voice low. "George, I have to make you understand that you absolutely mustn't involve yourself with my evil personality. She will turn against you, every time. What she does with 'that bastard' should be no longer relevant to your marriage to me."
"You can't install a switch in my heart, Colleen." He was incredibly frustrated!
"Yes, I'm being unrealistic, but if you don't train yourself to switch off your feelings when I'm being evil, external forces will eventually break your heart."
"You would do that to me?" He glowered.
"Never! I'm doing everything I can to keep your heart with mine!" I passionately took his hands. Allow me to try something. If it doesn't work or gets too weird, only time will be wasted."
"I trust you." He gripped my hands. George genuinely wanted to learn to cope with my ongoing infidelity.
It started with a kiss, my lips brushing his before pressing heavily against them. I took his head in my hands and bandied our kiss about until his tension softened. My hands dropped to his pants, and I unzipped them. Usually I would push his pants down for a handjob, but I wanted my efforts to feel raw, chaotic, improvised. I slid off the bed and onto the floor, for easy access to my husband's sweet dick.
His lungs breathed a little deeper as I slowly worked his soft dick and hairy balls with both my hands. "I'm going to tell you a story, George, and it's happening right now, with us in our bedroom and the curtains mostly open." To be clear, our actual curtains were nearly closed, and our privacy was quite assured.
"I'm on my knees, just like this, and you have been anxious for signs that I still love you. It's my job to convince you, but the universe has strange ways of warping the best of intentions."
"This is new." George sounded less upset, cautious at the worst. He didn't know what my plan was. "You usually only take charge if we're pretending."
"I'm making this about you, tonight, My Love." I gave him my warmest smile. "Here I am, massaging your penis- No, your boner - you are enjoying this!" I winked. His dick was firming quickly. I repurposed one of my busy hands to the task of unbuttoning my blouse.
"You take an experienced guess that I'll be sucking your cock soon, but something in the yard grabs your attention. A neighbor has hurdled the fence to fetch a toy that perhaps his child threw into our backyard." George immediately looked through small gap in the curtains. There was nothing out in back. I used his distraction to shuck my open blouse and unsnap my bra. The cups dangled across my belly, my tits in full from my husband's height advantage.
I resumed my tale, drawing his attention back to me, and he smiled. I don't think George ever tires of seeing my boobs. Or he is a wonderful actor.
"The neighbor steps quickly to fetch the toy but pauses. While concerned about being discovered, he notices us through the window. The toy is forgotten as the man slinks to our shed and ducks behind, peeping around it." I took a moment to consider what would happen next in my tale, taking well into account how my husband's stiffening peter reacted. It continued to harden if not faster.
"The neighbor watches me, George, growing excited by my boobs and my aparent submission to you. He leans farther from his hiding spot to look closer. At that moment you see him, and your eyes lock together. You both freeze up in the moment of mutual discovery. I follow your stare and also see the man who is now unsure what to do. I say, 'let him watch, My Love.' He's probably harmless, and I want to show him that I'm totally yours.
"What do you do, George?"
My husband's mind raced, his heart beating quickly. I could tell by the pulse in his nearly full pecker. But also, my fingers detected it soften slightly. I learned later, that he was piecing together the purpose of my multi-sensory tale. He judged it was an example of proving my love to him. Poor George would eventually be proven wrong but not disappointed. He answered, "I grin at the man. Do I know him?"
"No, Honey. Remember our neighborhood isn't very chummy. The man slowly grins back. He steps out from behind the shed and watches unabashedly."
George's penis jerked in my hand to full hardness. I slowed my strokes. He was not unhappy that my story peeper was watching a half naked wife (me) give her husband (George) a loving handjob. I knew what to say.
"Your eyes meet again, but you feel strange suddenly. The man's intense gaze is a little intimidating. He steps closer to our window and he gestures, opening his mouth and fucking two of his fingers in and out of it.
"I see him too, in a corner of my field of view, but my eyes are on you and your beautiful, hard cock. When the man gestures, you hesitate before taking my head and pulling it closer to your stiff rod."
"I'm not sure I would do that." George started to complain.
"Shhh, Dearest, in the story you do." I move one of his hands to my hair.
"This isn't interactive?"
"No, George." I shook my head and eyed him like a school marm. He leaned back slightly. "Only if I ask a question." I released his aroused manhood, open my mouth, and suck in his full, hard length!
OH! The taste surprised me! I hadn't given head to my dear husband since Leland ***** my mouth for the first time. His sour and dirty dick disgusted me! The taste of George's penis washed away that trauma, at least for that moment. My sweet, sweet George tasted as wonderful as carmel, white chocolate, or even the finest custard. My heart beat fast, and I began devouring the hard shaft fully enclosed in my mouth! I nearly forgot my larger plan.
"OHH, Honey! That feels incredible!" His loving palm patted my head, instead of gripping and forcing me to mouth fuck him.
I had to tear myself off of his delicious prick, to continue the story. "I'm still sucking you, as the man outside directed. He is emboldened by your accommodation to his suggestion. The man comes right up to the window and stares confidently as I suck on your sweet dick." In reality, I had reverted to slowly jacking my man's saliva soaked member.
"I'm not sure I like this, Leen." George declared, but his body had a different response. His heart rate increased again, and his dick grew hot in my hand.
"The man speaks just loud enough to be heard through the window. He wants to come in and get a better look. He doesn't ask, and his eyes dare you to deny him."
"He can't come in, Colleen." George was panting. "Ohh- oohh."
"I'm sorry George, the man's intensity is too much for you. He disappears from the window, heading for the back door."
"OOOAAAHH!!!" My husband's body lurched! I dove my mouth back to his twitching prick and caught his spurting seed. George's abrupt ejaculate tasted nearly as wonderful as his dick! "MMMmmmmmm!!!" I moaned and hummed, drinking quickly. My attention fixated on the gooey richness and lightly salty almost meaty flavor! Normally, I don't care much for the taste of cum. My rare lovers before I married had markedly different flavors. None compelled me to be more than a cocksucker who drank a pecker dry only to be polite. I gulped and gulped on my man's wonderful fountain.
"Leen!" He startled me. "You're going to leave a hickey." He smiled. His dick's eruption had died quickly, and I found myself sucking an empty straw. I pulled away, trying mask a sudden flash of shame.
"Sorry." I looked away in case I was blushing.
"What do you mean?" He nearly bounced on our bed. "That was incredible!"
"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm going to brush my teeth." I typically did that after swallowing my husband's semen, but this time was to hide my embarrassment for wishing he had cum more into my mouth. George lay satisfied on our bed while I brushed.
When I emerged from our private bath, he asked, "So what kind of experiment was that?"
I lied. "Oh, just to see if you might like storytelling during sex." I gulped the residual flavor of mint toothpaste, worried that he might catch on.
"Well, it worked great!" He beamed. "I'm not sure I want a story every time, but when you're game and I'm game, let's do it."
I sat beside him and leaned into his warmth. "Sure, Honey." I spoke on auto-pilot but stared absently at the drawn, auburn curtains.
His bubbly mood settled when he noticed my listlessness. "You look like you're missing something. Do you need some loving? I'd enjoy reciprocating."
"That sounds fun." I made myself brighten. "But I'd rather wait for you to recharge and give me the whole enchilada." I winked.
He bounced his eyebrows. "Say no more. Say no more."
George's mood changed abruptly. My weak excitement must have worried him. "I can't imagine what you're going through, let alone what you've been through, Leen. Don't push yourself to accommodate me. I loved what you did tonight but if was at mental expense to you - don't." He put arm around me which felt good. I nestled my head into the crook of his neck and took his other hand in my left.
"I'll make it through this awful, hopefully transient time. Your growing strength is very inspiring! One thing I need to remind you, though. I'm not the only one not getting enough attention in our ******."
A bolt of guilt struck me, when I remembered Ridley's birthday. "Oh, no. It's next week."
"Uh-huh." He nodded.
Ridley was going to turn fourteen, and I hadn't started to plan for it. Leland's pogrom of corruption had scattered the important things in my life. I hardly knew what day it was. I felt awful!
"There's still enough time to prepare." George rattled off possible themes, and I did my best to pay attention and respond with suggestions.
Later that night, before my husband curled up and slept, I sucked his savory penis until it was hard enough to mount. I rode my husband like a mare in heat on a donkey, finally cumming after a long workout by remembering the man in our backyard and how he directed George to make me suck him. Except, in that version, George made me suck the neighbor.
...to be continued...
Birthday Black Crash
Chapter 7
I hesitated before tapping the green "CALL" button on my phone. I was standing inside our shed. There was only one bar on the screen. Static and cutouts broke the ringing sound.
"Colleen!" Leland was genuinely surprised. "Didn't I tell you never to call me at work." He was kidding.
"Leland, I know it's impossible for me to strike a bargain with you." He could already take from me, most anything he wanted. I was calling about one of the few I would die protecting. "I hope, in spite of your sick determination to own me, that somewhere you have heart enough for day of mercy."
"I'm listening."
"Next Thursday is my son's birthday. Could you please spare me on that one day?" It's not like he was calling me everyday to service him. Three days had passed since he took me on my marriage bed. My butt had healed to where it only hurt when prodded sufficiently.
"You want a break? You got to pay. Get down here, Bitch. Pick me up and drive us to a park I know at the north edge of the city. It's got a bunch of trees and plenty of dropped branches."
A bunch of trees turned out to be small grove of birch. The branches Leland selected from the ground were green and supple. Afterwards, he had to drive me home. I lay in back, face down as best I could manage, sobbing. Thick cum kept oozing from my brutalized puss.
He parked on the curb, two houses away from mine. Getting out, he tossed my keys to me. "Sure. I won't do anything to you on Thursday. Tell your boy that you gave your best to be with him." He wandered away towards a bus stop.
I wept softly, wondering if he meant it as a compliment.
On Monday at noon, Leland had me rent a room at the Shade Palm Motel. The clerk didn't recognize me. I had been told to wear a nice dress. He phoned me for the room number and arrived just minutes after I'd settled into the room, patiently dreading my fate for the rest of that day, fluffing the magenta dress' pleats. Leland used only his hand on my ass but ripped my dress to shreds. Fortunately, I hadn't been allowed underwear.
He drove me home again, cursing at me about the cum I let escape my tightly packed mouth. He marched angrily away. He'd spent a second load of his black DNA into my vagina. It was nearly time for the kids to return from school. I rushed inside, wrapping my ruined dress around my torso, praying none of the neighbors saw me.
"MOM!" Ridley was already home! "What happened to you?" He saw my ruined dress, but that's all he saw.
I rushed past him. "Two dogs." I lied. "They managed to rip my dress before I got out my pepper spray. I didn't get bit." If I had actually owned pepper spray, I might have had a chance to prevent my great misfortune from the start!
I slammed my bedroom door behind me and sank to my knees. The magenta dress fell to the floor. My ass was aching but not as badly as when Leland had whipped me with birch.
While I was soaking in water as hot as I could handle, Peg knocked on the bedroom door. She yelled, "The brat said you got attacked by dogs!"
"He exaggerated, Peg." I shouted back. "They just ripped my dress a little. It was old, and I will tear it up for rags." I had bought the dress a year prior. I wasn't fond of it, but it had been a nice dress. I told her to make a meal for her and her brother. "I'll make one for your father, after I relax a little more."
"Yeah, Mom. You do that." She sounded sympathetic. If I had drowned right then, my life would have found meaning just in time.
I was lying in bed face down when George arrived home. I was wearing pajamas and a thick night dress, sweating from double insulation in a warm evening. He caught me cutting up the dress for rags.
"Dogs!" He eyed me suspiciously.
"No." I answered his unspoken question. He slowly fumed, sitting on the chair near his side of the bed.
I got up and went to warm up chicken enchiladas I had made. They only needed a minute, having escaped the oven half an hour earlier. I called the ****** to dinner.
"Dumb old Peg forced me to make baloney sandwiches." Ridley nearly drooled from the smell of what I'd made. I surrendered more than half of mine to him, declaring myself tired from what happened. Actually, I couldn't sit any longer without tears breaking from pain. I ate my half quickly and returned to our bedroom.
When George came in, after watching a couple hours of shows, he didn't ask what happened.
Proactively, I ushered him to sit on the bed and I knelt down before him. I reached up to his zipper and looked into his beleaguered expression.
He sighed. "You want to tell me a story again." I couldn't decipher if he was asking or telling.
"If you like."
He replied quietly. "Okay." I think he blushed a little, but I had been waiting in dim light, which I find relaxing.
I made up a story about being caught fooling around behind sparse bushes in a park. Three older teens coming back from a soccer match found us. One of them wanted to split the scene. The second one bet they could watch. But the third waded into the bushes and started wanking while I was sucking George. Before my husband climaxed, the late teen offered his dick to me. I looked up at George in a way that asked what I should do. The young man sneered at George. My husband's delicious prick exploded in my mouth, ending my story with great joy for him.
We crawled in bed and kissed each other goodnight. My dreams shifted around randomly as usual, but a solid one woke me up. George had given a mug full of his cum to me. I began drinking for its palatable flavor. A dead fly emerged from the thick fluid, and I jolted awake.
My ass was merely sore, waking on Thursday morning. The night before, I had told George a story about an auto mechanic who found us in the restroom. He slapped my face with his big, hard prick while offering a 'friendly discount' for my permission. He ignored my husband. George ejaculated while I was still jerking his prick. I was too slow to catch his brief spend, with my mouth.
Ridley must have waited to hear sounds from his parents' room. He knocked, "Good morning!" He prompted.
I smiled. "Happy Birthday, Ridley." It felt so freeing to smile like that.
George woke up and slowly figured out what was going on. He uttered birthday salutations barely loud enough to reach his son's ear, which was no doubt plastered against our door.
"He's going to be the worst pest today!" Peg groaned during breakfast. "Can I hang out with my friends after school?"
"You want to be here for your brother's celebration." I told her. She wouldn't admit it but she would return from school in time for his party.
"Can I invite a friend?"
"A guy?" Her father raised an eyebrow.
"No!" She yipped.
"Will she bring me a present?" Ridley asked eagerly.
"Of course not!" She dampened his expectations.
During clean-up, washing dishes, Peg drying them, I told her softly. "I'll have a gift that your friend can give."
My ******** sighed.
George took the afternoon off of work. His company actually offered ****** Time hours. We enjoyed adorning the room with party regalia. At one point we made love on the coffee table. Me hunched over it, him thrusting from behind. I didn't need a story to cum most satisfactorily, my sore bum contributing to his earnest efforts. I did manage to hide my bruised ass from his notice. I had taken to wearing large panties. I told him he was a tiger for fucking me through one of the leg bands.
Right around three o-clock, the time when school let out, our doorbell rang. George went to get it, expecting a delivery.
"Hello, George." Leland wore the most polite smile. "I'm glad see you at home. It's going to be a crazy party, right?"
"Go away, Mr-." George corrected himself. "Leland. You're not welcome here."
"You promised you wouldn't do anything today!" I actually sounded righteous for once. Mother lioness defending her home.
"Not to you. That's what I said, and I meant it. In fact I'm not here to do anything to anyone. I just felt it was a good time to meet the ******." There it was, the patentable, confident grin on his face.
"Get out." George insisted.
"I would've called, but you don't have a phone yet, right?" Leland took a step inside, his grin now a dare.
"I can defend my home." My husband threatened. "The police-"
"Yeah, the po-po will probably shoot my black ass, but in the meantime you'll force me to break my promise to your loving wife." His face became a menace. "I don't like to break a promise."
I wanted to tell my husband to stand down, but it was important that he learned what kind of man he really was: A good man. A good husband. A good lover. A good father. A poor warrior.
"I'm walking here." Leland announced with a fake New York accent. He started into the living room.
George was on the verge of tears. "Colleen?" He implored.
"I love you more than anything." I said it from the heart.
My husband stepped aside and brushed his eyes with a sleeved arm. He couldn't look at me after that.
"Colleen, yer looking so domestic. Even a birthday party should kick modesty to the curb." Leland was surprisingly clean. He work black slacks with pressed folds, newer sneakers than I'd seen before, and a unstained shirt with thin, purple stripes running down pastel yellow polyester. His balding pate sported a white straw fedora. He'd even stuck a fabric rose in the eye of his shirt's front pocket. It's red contrasted the shirt decently. I wondered if he had just visited a thrift store. If so, he had cut off the tags before changing.
I spoke curtly. "We're still putting up decorations."
"Let me help." He looked around the room. "Man, if I had birthdays like this, I might have made something of myself." He chuckled.
"We're almost done." George managed to say.
I offered Leland a red balloon. "Nah." He waved it away. "Don't have the lungs for it. Too much crack in my past. Get your husband to do the blowing." He spied a game of pin the tail on the donkey. "I'll set up that."
I pointed to a bare wall in the kitchen. Then I put the balloon end in my mouth and blew. George joined me and inflated another.
My home had never felt so confining. My husband was feeling twice as oppressed as I. I suggested something manly. "Get the coals started." We both knew it was too early to start a barbecue, but he stepped lightly past Leland who mentioned, "She'll be safe in my hands."
I didn't see him shudder, but that's what I imagined George doing before escaping out back.
"What do you think?" Leland had taped the fuzzy board to the wall. The tail had a velcro end for securing it to the donkey's image.
"It's fine." I judged it from the living room.
"Come over and take a good look. You're a woman who don't like shoddy work."
I walked to the line of separation between the living room and the kitchen. "You could have looped the tape and hid it behind the board instead of crossing the corners like that."
"It's not as strong that way." He argued. "A little ugliness is worth the strength."
I wasn't sure if he was talking about the donkey board. He walked up to me and fastened his large hands on the butt of my loose, cotton pants. I flinched from their contact, my bum still sore after the beating it took from those hands, too few days earlier. I turned my head away, wincing as his hands began to fondle the bruised flesh. "I thought you weren't going to do anything."
"What, this is nothing." His hands were making my body twitch and utter light grunts. "Now give me a kiss, and I'll help you with something else." I could only hope that he meant to help with the decorations. That he didn't smell much limited my reservations. It was like he had showered the day before.
I looked out the kitchen window, but George wasn't in view. I lifted my head and kissed Leland's thick lips. With his hands inciting discomfort through my body, my lips acted like they were twerking his until I pulled away, grimacing from little stabs of pain.
"That felt pretty good, didn't it?"
"I'm still sore."
He kept groping my ass. "I know how long it takes before you're ready for another go."
"My children will be home soon." Ridley was probably racing home. Peg would dawdle.
"Then there's no time to waste." He moved away but kept one hand on my butt. It pushed me into the hallway. I assumed his promise meant nothing when he prodded me down the hall and into my bedroom. He even locked the door behind him.
I stood still, dreading likely abuse.
Leland went to my closet and opened it.
My heart started beating again when he riffled through the hanging garments. He was solely intent on finding something more celebratory for me to wear.
"This." He pulled out a light purple, low cut top with frills around the collar. he took out the hanger and tossed it to me. Turning back to the closet, he asked. 'Are all your pants in here?"
"I have shorts in the bottom dresser drawer." I unbuttoned the manish shirt I was wearing. He went to the dresser and pawed through the shorts in there. "You need shorter shorts." It was not a request.
He stopped me when I was pushing an arm into the top he'd chosen. "Un-uh." He shook his head. "Take off the bra."
"What? It's my son's birthday!" I felt some power to resist.
"Yeah, well he's turning fourteen today. Boys that age are thinking of girls, and a good mom should act like it's okay to live less puritanically." That was a large word for Leland's vocabulary. I considered he, like many African-Americans, had a Protestant upbringing, some more severe than others. I also remembered that he didn't swear monotheistically.
"This top is too revealing without a bra."
He snorted. "It's almost a granny shirt." Our perspectives couldn't have been more different. "At least it's not a man's shirt. And it's a fine color for a party." He returned to the closet, leaving the bottom drawer open.
I looked down at my protruding cups and told myself, Ridley was too young to notice or care if his old mother wore a lumpy shirt. I took off my bra and donned the shirt, raveling up the back a little and tucking it into my panties to reduce its neckline.
Leland brought a knee length skirt. I had shorter ones for going out dancing, but I suspected he had picked this one for its colorful, flower print. "This will be fun." He judged my body language. "But you don't seem to have a party mood." He frowned. "How's a kid to enjoy his birthday when his mom is acting like a sourpuss?"
"You know why I'm like this." I contested.
"Ooo, if it wasn't a special day for your ******." His expression darkened. "You'll have to fake it, like every other mom in the world." I suspected a psychologist could earn multiple Ph'Ds writing papers about Leland's psyche, especially Freudian shrinks.
I took the skirt.
His brief anger brightened. "Hey, I know a trick." His patent grin surfaced, and I knew I was doomed. "Go commando today. That'll put hot sauce in your spirit."
The front door shut loudly. "HEY! I'm home!" Ridley wanted everyone to know. What surprised me more was George answering him. "Happy Birthday, Son." How long had my husband been in the house while I was locked in our bedroom with the old, black man who abused me for his pleasure.
Leland stared full of amusement at my expense.
I found my self stepping out of panties before I could muster resistance. He waggled his eyebrows at my groomed pudemdum. I quickly pulled on the skirt and cinched it tight around my waist. Then I re-tucked the back of my blouse.
"Where's Mom?"
"She in our room, changing." George must have realized that I would crack under Leland's comment about my domestic garb. My husband tried not to sound too bitter to his son.
"I'll be out in a minute!" I shouted at the locked door.
"Do you have a ribbon for your hair, or a flower?" The old black ginned.
I found Ridley and George in the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator. My husband allowed my son. "Go ahead and have a snack, but your mother will be disappointed if you don't eat enough of the food she worked hours on, for you today."
"Happy Birthday, Ridley." I mustered a mostly sincere smile. Part of my happiness stemmed from Leland saying he'd pop out in a bit. I wasn't sure of his motive, but I took it as a good thing.
"Moom!" He drew out the word, and his eyes bulged. "You look, uh, rad!" I didn't know kids still used that word. It was already out of fashion when I said it during high school. My surprised son ran over for a hug.
George stared at the fake, red rose in my hair. To him it must have looked like a damsel's favor ribbon for her chosen knight. Guilt gripped me while I hugged my son. When he pulled out of my embrace, I could tell that he was avoiding looking at my chest. I didn't dare look down. I could only go forward. "I know it's your birthday, but if you start eating junk food now, you'll get sick before the party is over." I went to the fridge. George was still holding it open.
"Let's see." I bent over slightly, worried about my skirt pulling up, but knee length was plenty long to prevent embarrassing mishaps. I found a bag of mochi treats with sweet red bean paste. I took two out and closed the door. "Here." I handed them to Ridley. "Eat these for now, and in an hour you can have a chocolate brownie. After supper, you can eat whatever you like."
He looked at the unfamiliar, sweet, rice dumplings like they might be white balls of kale. He bit into one, chewed. Pursed his lips and told me. "They're okay." But he downed the rest of the first one like it was angel food cake.
"Hello, young man!" Leland entered from the hallway but stopped between the living room and kitchen. His deep pitched voice reverberated around the kitchen. "I hear it's your birthday."
Ridley gulped down what was left of his first mochi ball. "Who are you?"
"This is Mr. Jones, Ridley." I intercepted. He's a neighbor from a few blocks away.
"Why is he here?"
Leland handled the question before I could chose a lie. "Well, I been a bit lonely lately, since my wife died. Your mom's been very kind to me for a little while now, and today she let me visit. I won't get in the way of your fun. I just 'preciate having some company, specially at a party. I brought you a present."
Oh shit. "You don't have to do that, Leland." I spoke more assertively than usual to him.
"It's nothing special, but it'd be rude not to have a gift for the birthday boy."
"That's right, Mom!" Ridley was never far from asserting his independence.
The old black reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a not too poorly wrapped gift. It was a small box about the size of a paperback book. "Here, but don't open it until later." Leland's tone deepened. "It'd be rude to open it before your other presents."
"I guess." My son accepted the gift and the stranger's advice with greater willingness than when I lectured.
"Leland, can I fix you a drink? We can talk in the living room." George sounded almost self-possessed. He too felt a parent's instinct to protect his children. It was my bad luck that his instinct to protect his wife wasn't as strong.
"I'll have a beer, George. I'll take it outside, thank you, and call me Mr. Jones. 'Preciate it." He put a hand on my shoulder from behind, as if to tell my husband that his wife might suffer for his impoliteness."
I broke the room's growing tension. "Ridley, I'll put this present with your others, but we'll save it for last.", I didn't say, or another day. He let me have the small package.
"Ridley, huh?" Leland put the hand on my shoulder, to his chin. "Do kids tease you about that being girl's name?"
"Leland, it's also a boy's name-" I began but before I could mention a famous Ridley like the director, Ridley Scott, he had already brushed me aside, verbally.
"Let the boy answer. Did you ever ask him that?"
I couldn't admit to my failure in that regard. My son's head drooped a little. "Sometimes, but I don't care about those dumdums."
"How about if I call you Rider then?" Leland's grin lit up the room and darkened George's and my hearts.
"OH!" Ridley's eyes widened. "Uh, I guess." He downplayed the cool name that this maybe not so bad of a stranger had offered.
Leland strode up to George and took his beer. "Thanks." He headed out back. "See you around, Rider."
My husband and I both wanted to warn our son about the demon among us, but what can you tell a fourteen year old that won't make him curious to learn what made Mr. Jones a dangerous person?
Not sure of what next to do, Ridley unwrapped his second mochi treat and ate it.
To take George's mind off our troubles, I suggested. "Let's finish the decorations." I went into the living room and blew up balloons. When his father joined me, our son thought that was cool and helped out.
Peg showed up with her friend, Ida. We'd met her before and made polite greetings. "I love your outfit, Ms. Fairchild!" Ida delighted.
My ********'s eyes narrowed. My presentation was abnormal to her experience. "Mom, I want to show Ida something in your room. Come with us."
I found myself in a giggling trio, until Peg shut us in my bedroom. "About that present..."
"Oh." I remembered. I went to my closet and fetched one of two wrapped gifts I'd prepared for unprepared party guests. I handed the girl gift to Ida. "It's an action figure for a character in one of Ridley's favorite games." I had to think. "Its name is Draggolitz." It was a very dark character, but I was told the man had a good heart despite his special, decapitation and soul extraction combo.
"I've played that game." Ida bubbled. "Not much of a story. Good guys. Bad guys. A lot of killing, but the fight scenes are pretty epic." Neither Peg nor I were very conversant in video games. I played a few casual ones on my phone. Peg would take her fights with Ridley sometimes to the game console. She could usually best him there, but only on a couple of our games.
Peg's interest was mostly in socializing. Two years ago, we had to pull the plug on her use of social media, deleting all of her profiles. She was furious! George and I hoped, by the time she went to university, she would understand why we had to intervene in her private bubble of suspect adoration. More than one of her 'friends' were asking her for naughty photos, just naughty enough to start a spiral of degradation. I'm glad I policed her accounts. She wished I was dead. Her curse proved worse than that for me.
"Thank you, Ms. Fairchild." Ida leaped and kissed my cheek. I blushed and giggled. We returned to the living room. One of Ridley's friends had arrived, Aaron.
"You're gonna love it." He had given his present. "It has the best graphics! Oops!" Aaron shut his trap and smiled apologetically. Aaron was tall, nerdy, and black. He even wore thick, nerd glasses. "Cuz nerds are cool, Ms. Fairchild!" He once told me. I honestly hoped they were. Aaron was a sweet kid. I suspected he had spent too much on his gift, but his ****** were top earners in the school district.
"I think it's time for better treats." I suggested. We moved to the kitchen where I took a pan out of a warm oven and served plentiful, hot brownies.
"Let's go out back and kick a ball around!" Ridley wanted. Aaron agreed without enthusiasm. That was the price of being at a friend's birthday party. My son opened the back door. "This way we don't have to be cooped up with girls."
Ida had started towards the door but shrank back at Ridley's insensitive comment.
I headed for the outside, anxious to keep Leland at his word.
Peg suddenly burst. "Oh dear gods! MOM, are you not wearing a bra?" She must have seen my chest wobble loosely when I took off for the door.
"Not now, Peg." I dashed out just behind the boys and shut the door. Leland was on the back porch, sitting in a chaise lounge and sipping his beer. "Ho there, Rider! Who's the little brother?"
My son slowed to a halt. "He's not my brother, Mr. Jones. Can't you tell?"
"Ridley," Aaron adjusted his glasses. "That's racist."
"Huh?" My son was now more puzzled. To be clear, calling a person racist had become 'a thing' among kids their age. While certainly not a respectful title, it had come to mean the same as 'dummy.' Baka was also a word the kids sometimes used, taken from Japanese anime.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Jones. He's my friend." Aaron apologized.
"No sweat, Little Man, I got some serious haters for friends, black and white." Leland sat back in his chair and looked up at the cloud dotted sky.
"Who's he?" Aaron asked Ridley.
"I dunno." My son shrugged. "Mom invited him, I think."
"Why did he call you Rider?"
"Right?" Ridley beamed. "Sounds cool, huh?"
"Where's the ball?" Aaron was apparently bored enough by Leland's presence to want to kick a ball. An old man at a kids' party was just an old man to them, his color less important. I surmised.
"It's in the shed." The boys dashed away to it.
"Would you like to sit on my lap." Leland patted it.
"No."
"Heh, the things I'm gonna remember when we're alone again."
"I'm suppose to be enjoying my son's party." I played for sympathy.
"I suppose, but you are also supposed to be on my dick, working a load out of me."
"You can't give me this one day to myself?"
"I 'specially can't!" He glared. "You gotta understand what the real deal between us is."
"I've done awful things for you." I grimaced, unhappiness seething at my core. "That's not enough?"
"You don't know what real awful is, Cunt." He spoke softly but with authority.
"Loretta." I offered.
"She still alive, Woman." His eyes steeled.
For the first time, I felt the hand of death at my throat. I never imagined Leland was that dangerous.
"But I don't get that kind of awful, nor Loretta awful." He sipped his beer. "You'll learn."
A ball flew across the yard. Leland shouted, "Good kick, Rider!"
George emerged into the yard. He surveyed the situation and turned his attention to the grill. Smoke gushed out when he lifted the cover.
I went to my exasperated husband. He didn't look at me. "Coals are ready."
"I'll get the burgers and sausages." I went inside.
"Another boy showed up." Ida sat at the table, looking outside.
Peg was greeting Trent at the front door, the other friend Ridley had invited.
"Hi, Trent!" I called out but went to the refrigerator and pulled out two platters. I headed for the back door. Trent intercepted me. "Can my mind powers to help you with those?" Trent was a little older than Aaron and my son by a few months. He was in the same grade as Peg, but he didn't have any friends in his classes. That was because Trent had a bad reputation for being silly. Girls dismissed him as a child. Boys his age thought he was a sissy. Even gay boys thought a sissy was too silly to befriend.
"You can get the door." I suggested.
Trent didn't move. I caught him staring at my chest. I blushed and lifted the platters to block his view.
"You asked for it, Mom." Peg accused. "What were you thinking?" She didn't mention my lack of a brassiere, but that's what she was talking about.
"Sorry, Ma-am." Trent always called me that. "I had a mind-to-mind call, but I sent it to neuron mail." He crabbed to the back door and opened it. Again his eyes sought out my chest, but he was less obvious about it. I shuffled past him.
"Here's the meat, Honey." I set the platters on the folding table George had set up next to the grill.
I stood by my man, keeping one eye on Leland and one on the boys kicking the ball. Leland remained in chill mode.
Ida stepped outside. "Can I help?"
"Thanks, Ida, but Colleen and I've got this."
George usually called me Leen in casual circumstances, but there was nothing casual for him about Leland's amused presence. The guilt in my stomach churned, but I was helpless. He knew that, and he forgave me, but that didn't mean he could feel better for himself.
"Hey, Ida, you want to explore their shed?" Trent grinned.
"Eew!" She scurried into the yard and shouted at Aaron and Ridley. "Can I kick it?"
"Sure!" Aaron was happy to share the load of playing the game that my son had chosen. He kicked to her, and she caught it like a practiced footballer. She kicked it straight to Ridley. "Pretty good, huh?"
"Yeah." My boy feigned respect. He kicked with all his strength, back at her, the ball hurling like a missile! But Ida wasn't intimidated. She jumped and let it bounce of of her chest, smartly redirecting it to Aaron. "Ouch!" Her hands flew to her chest. Aaron let the ball roll past him. He looked uncertain at Ridley.
"You okay, Hon?" I went to her.
"Yes, Ms. Fairchild. Sometimes," She dropped her voice dramatically. "They." She returned to regular volume. "Get sensitive."
"That's perfectly normal. Will you need a pad?"
"I don't think so."
"Use my bathroom if you need to. There are plenty in there."
"Okay." She turned back to the boys. "I can kick it harder than you two!"
"Trent!" Peg shouted. "Don't be following my mom!" She had emerged when it was obvious that the older boy was stalking me.
I looked back in time to see Trent step aside. "I just wanted to watch them -- kick the ball!" He elaborated.
"Sure you did!" Peg turned to watch her father grill our supper.
"HAH!" Leland erupted but immediately calmed afterward.
"Daddy? Who's that?"
George clenched his teeth for a moment. "He is Mr. Jones. He lives alone, and your mother thought he might like company without expectations placed on him.
Peg whispered. "Sounds like justification for being lazy."
"Don't you talk to him, Peg." *** said out of the side of his mouth. "Your mother said the loss of his wife affected him in a bad way for women."
"How old are you, young lady?" Leland suspected my husband and ******** were talking.
"Fourteen." Peg looked at him like he was made of cheese. She didn't dislike cheese but was trying to eat sensibly. For a teen girl, that meant french fries, plain turkey burgers, and low fat chocolate milk.
I didn't hear their discussion until when George related it to me, as an example of how dangerous, Leland might be. At the time, I was trying to keep track of our black guest, my son, and his icky friend.
Trent moved closer to Ida. "You've got a great body -- for soccer!" The boy had terrible pick up lines and worse timing. She was about to kick the ball but totally missed when Trent spoke.
"Great kick, Ida!" My son laughed.
"Go away!" She told Trent. He went over to Ridley and wished him, "Happy Birthday, Earthling."
I returned to Peg and George. I puffed, "Kids."
"Yeah, kids." Peg tried to sound as judgmental.
I expected her to say more. Nothing left my ********'s lips without a snide comment. Instead of talking, her eyes darted between me and Leland. Her expression darkened, her mind burning glucose as if trying to solve an impenetrable puzzle.
Leland remained on his best behavior as the evening turned into night. He had George fetch a bottle of beer occasionally. He 'asked' me to fix him a platter for supper. Peg was taking note of everything the old, black man said and did. I tried to act only like a good host, but my lack of a bra had set off many suspicions for her.
At one point during the party, when everyone else was eating burgers and dogs, she cornered me alone in the kitchen. "Mom, did you know you're wearing the same colors as Mr. Jones?"
"Really?" I mocked her. "Maybe I should take this off." I wanted her to realize how intrusive she was acting.
Peg wasn't used to me standing up to her. The incident of the slap was mostly behind us. I used to roll over at her whim, but she was learning that her mother's backbone was getting stronger. That only added to mystery of Mr. Jones' unexpected appearance at her brother's party.
Like a lost, conspiracy theorist, she thought everything was connected to everything else. But she was wise enough to stick to something she knew for certain. "And why aren't you wearing bra, Mom. You look ridiculous. Don't try to sluff me off again."
I thought quickly. "If you must know, I just had the urge to be less stiff and proper. That's I'm wearing colorful things. It's just a conincidence that Mr. Jones' shirt has purple in it."
Peg seemed to accept that, but then her eyes bulged out and zeroed in on my skirt. "You didn't."
"Didn't what, Dear?" I called her bluff.
"Never mind. There's no way you'd do that." She nearly ran back outside to be with her friend and her dependable, predicable, manipulatable father.
After supper, our son was allowed to open his presents. Aaron's gift was something beyond nice. "MOM! It's a SteamDeck!" His jaw remained opened, turning the portable console's carton over and over."
"Aaron, that's far too expensive!" I blurted before thinking.
"It's the cheapest one, Ms. Fairchild. Ridley is my best friend."
My son got up and hugged his friend. "Wow. Just wow. Thank you!"
"Don't be getting all mushy on me, baka. I got you one so we can go PVP on each other."
"Now that sounds dirty." Leland chuckled. He sat just far enough away to not be automatically included in the present opening circle.
"Player vs. Player, Mr. Jones." Ida wanted to be helpful.
"Basketball?" He knitted his eyebrows.
"Just computer games. Lots of them, Leland." I settled the matter.
The last present opened was one I had given to Trent, because he'd brought a second hand toy in a paper bag. Ridley asked him. "How did you know I needed a new backup battery for my game machines?"
"Perhaps now, you won't scoff at my mind powers." Trent puffed up his chest.
I wanted to vomit a little.
"There's one present left." Leland spoke plainly.
"It's getting late, Leland, Ridley can open it in the morning. We should light the candles on his cake."
"Colleen, I've been a reasonable guest all this time. Do me the favor of letting me see him open it, or I'll have to come back in the morning. You know how I get cold." He shot with both barrels.
I gulped.
Peg's senses switched to CIA mode. There was something important in the subtext of the stranger's lecture.
My hand trembled when I pulled the last gift from under a discarded wrapper. I had been hoping to hide it. "Here, Ridley." I handed it to my son. "Don't expect much. Mr. Jones is living on Social Security."
When the present's wrapping fell away, all jaws in the room dropped.
"You know what those are, Rider, right? They teach about them in school these days, I thought." Leland had given my son a dozen, S sized, latex condoms.
"WHOA!" Trent broke our stunned silence.
"Gods." Peg whispered.
"Leland, this is highly inappropriate. Ridley, thank Mr. Jones, but give them back to him."
"Nah, they're just a bit of fun. I use to blow them up like balloons!" He tried to joke, but I knew he put another black mark next to my name.
"We have plenty of actual balloons." George hadn't called him Leland after the first time today, but he had avoided calling the black man, "Mr. Jones." It was one way that he could maintain a measure of dignity. My husband stood up. "I need some air." He managed to conceal his fuming on the way outside.
"Thank you, Mr. Jones." My son stood up to walk the present back to him.
"You keep them, Rider. Your mother's just feeling a little stressed. She wanted you have a wonderful party, but that takes a lot out of a person. Please forgive her for speaking out of line." Leland said that but he wouldn't be forgiving me anytime soon.
"Oh, let him have them, Mom. He doesn't know what to do with them anyhow." Peg's mind was blown however. All of her detective work had gone up in smoke.
"I do too!" Ridley almost shouted.
"I'll take them." Trent would forever be unable to read a room.
"Dude, they're kind of weird - don't you think?" Aaron looked more confused than freaked out.
"Ridley," Ida spoke softly. "I don't think they're weird."
"Damn straight, little lady!" Leland slapped his knee. "It's just a part of life. Those just suppose to remind you to be responsible, Rider. They don't mean nothing more."
"Hnnn." Aaron considered the idea. "I think I get it now, Big Brother."
"Fine!" I hissed. "Keep them. Just don't think, when you get your first chance to use them, that you can use those! They'll be long out of date by then, and uselessly fragile." I lectured, my heart sinking. Leland had ripped away my little boy's innocence in addition to his attempt to change my dear son's name.
"Yay!" Trent threw up his hands. Others joined in his shout. It was the worst birthday party ever for a mom with fierce need for normal.
After singing Happy Birthday and eating cake, it was nearly 7pm. I offered to drive the boys and girl home, but they said it wasn't too late for them to walk. Peg would accompany Ida. She asked if she could spend the night with her. She made it clear, that she'd had enough of her brother's insufferable, if temporary, high status.
The boys left together. Ida told my son. "I had a great time, Rider. Good night."
Peg dragged her friend outside. "You actually called him that?"
"I was just-"
"Whatever." My ******** shut the door.
I started weeping, but you could only tell if you looked close at my eyes.
"Mr. Jones, I think you made your point today." George had summoned his courage again.
"Good!" Leland stepped right up to my husband and stabbed a fat finger into his breast bone. "Then we are in agreement about your place here."
"Mr. Jones?" Ridley looked disappointed. "Why are you being mean to my Daddy?"
"He's your ***, Boy. Don't be a pussy." Leland's last measure of restraint kept him from adding, "...like your father."
Instead, he told me, "Get your purse, Colleen. I need you to drive me home."
...to be continued...
I hesitated before tapping the green "CALL" button on my phone. I was standing inside our shed. There was only one bar on the screen. Static and cutouts broke the ringing sound.
"Colleen!" Leland was genuinely surprised. "Didn't I tell you never to call me at work." He was kidding.
"Leland, I know it's impossible for me to strike a bargain with you." He could already take from me, most anything he wanted. I was calling about one of the few I would die protecting. "I hope, in spite of your sick determination to own me, that somewhere you have heart enough for day of mercy."
"I'm listening."
"Next Thursday is my son's birthday. Could you please spare me on that one day?" It's not like he was calling me everyday to service him. Three days had passed since he took me on my marriage bed. My butt had healed to where it only hurt when prodded sufficiently.
"You want a break? You got to pay. Get down here, Bitch. Pick me up and drive us to a park I know at the north edge of the city. It's got a bunch of trees and plenty of dropped branches."
A bunch of trees turned out to be small grove of birch. The branches Leland selected from the ground were green and supple. Afterwards, he had to drive me home. I lay in back, face down as best I could manage, sobbing. Thick cum kept oozing from my brutalized puss.
He parked on the curb, two houses away from mine. Getting out, he tossed my keys to me. "Sure. I won't do anything to you on Thursday. Tell your boy that you gave your best to be with him." He wandered away towards a bus stop.
I wept softly, wondering if he meant it as a compliment.
On Monday at noon, Leland had me rent a room at the Shade Palm Motel. The clerk didn't recognize me. I had been told to wear a nice dress. He phoned me for the room number and arrived just minutes after I'd settled into the room, patiently dreading my fate for the rest of that day, fluffing the magenta dress' pleats. Leland used only his hand on my ass but ripped my dress to shreds. Fortunately, I hadn't been allowed underwear.
He drove me home again, cursing at me about the cum I let escape my tightly packed mouth. He marched angrily away. He'd spent a second load of his black DNA into my vagina. It was nearly time for the kids to return from school. I rushed inside, wrapping my ruined dress around my torso, praying none of the neighbors saw me.
"MOM!" Ridley was already home! "What happened to you?" He saw my ruined dress, but that's all he saw.
I rushed past him. "Two dogs." I lied. "They managed to rip my dress before I got out my pepper spray. I didn't get bit." If I had actually owned pepper spray, I might have had a chance to prevent my great misfortune from the start!
I slammed my bedroom door behind me and sank to my knees. The magenta dress fell to the floor. My ass was aching but not as badly as when Leland had whipped me with birch.
While I was soaking in water as hot as I could handle, Peg knocked on the bedroom door. She yelled, "The brat said you got attacked by dogs!"
"He exaggerated, Peg." I shouted back. "They just ripped my dress a little. It was old, and I will tear it up for rags." I had bought the dress a year prior. I wasn't fond of it, but it had been a nice dress. I told her to make a meal for her and her brother. "I'll make one for your father, after I relax a little more."
"Yeah, Mom. You do that." She sounded sympathetic. If I had drowned right then, my life would have found meaning just in time.
I was lying in bed face down when George arrived home. I was wearing pajamas and a thick night dress, sweating from double insulation in a warm evening. He caught me cutting up the dress for rags.
"Dogs!" He eyed me suspiciously.
"No." I answered his unspoken question. He slowly fumed, sitting on the chair near his side of the bed.
I got up and went to warm up chicken enchiladas I had made. They only needed a minute, having escaped the oven half an hour earlier. I called the ****** to dinner.
"Dumb old Peg forced me to make baloney sandwiches." Ridley nearly drooled from the smell of what I'd made. I surrendered more than half of mine to him, declaring myself tired from what happened. Actually, I couldn't sit any longer without tears breaking from pain. I ate my half quickly and returned to our bedroom.
When George came in, after watching a couple hours of shows, he didn't ask what happened.
Proactively, I ushered him to sit on the bed and I knelt down before him. I reached up to his zipper and looked into his beleaguered expression.
He sighed. "You want to tell me a story again." I couldn't decipher if he was asking or telling.
"If you like."
He replied quietly. "Okay." I think he blushed a little, but I had been waiting in dim light, which I find relaxing.
I made up a story about being caught fooling around behind sparse bushes in a park. Three older teens coming back from a soccer match found us. One of them wanted to split the scene. The second one bet they could watch. But the third waded into the bushes and started wanking while I was sucking George. Before my husband climaxed, the late teen offered his dick to me. I looked up at George in a way that asked what I should do. The young man sneered at George. My husband's delicious prick exploded in my mouth, ending my story with great joy for him.
We crawled in bed and kissed each other goodnight. My dreams shifted around randomly as usual, but a solid one woke me up. George had given a mug full of his cum to me. I began drinking for its palatable flavor. A dead fly emerged from the thick fluid, and I jolted awake.
My ass was merely sore, waking on Thursday morning. The night before, I had told George a story about an auto mechanic who found us in the restroom. He slapped my face with his big, hard prick while offering a 'friendly discount' for my permission. He ignored my husband. George ejaculated while I was still jerking his prick. I was too slow to catch his brief spend, with my mouth.
Ridley must have waited to hear sounds from his parents' room. He knocked, "Good morning!" He prompted.
I smiled. "Happy Birthday, Ridley." It felt so freeing to smile like that.
George woke up and slowly figured out what was going on. He uttered birthday salutations barely loud enough to reach his son's ear, which was no doubt plastered against our door.
"He's going to be the worst pest today!" Peg groaned during breakfast. "Can I hang out with my friends after school?"
"You want to be here for your brother's celebration." I told her. She wouldn't admit it but she would return from school in time for his party.
"Can I invite a friend?"
"A guy?" Her father raised an eyebrow.
"No!" She yipped.
"Will she bring me a present?" Ridley asked eagerly.
"Of course not!" She dampened his expectations.
During clean-up, washing dishes, Peg drying them, I told her softly. "I'll have a gift that your friend can give."
My ******** sighed.
George took the afternoon off of work. His company actually offered ****** Time hours. We enjoyed adorning the room with party regalia. At one point we made love on the coffee table. Me hunched over it, him thrusting from behind. I didn't need a story to cum most satisfactorily, my sore bum contributing to his earnest efforts. I did manage to hide my bruised ass from his notice. I had taken to wearing large panties. I told him he was a tiger for fucking me through one of the leg bands.
Right around three o-clock, the time when school let out, our doorbell rang. George went to get it, expecting a delivery.
"Hello, George." Leland wore the most polite smile. "I'm glad see you at home. It's going to be a crazy party, right?"
"Go away, Mr-." George corrected himself. "Leland. You're not welcome here."
"You promised you wouldn't do anything today!" I actually sounded righteous for once. Mother lioness defending her home.
"Not to you. That's what I said, and I meant it. In fact I'm not here to do anything to anyone. I just felt it was a good time to meet the ******." There it was, the patentable, confident grin on his face.
"Get out." George insisted.
"I would've called, but you don't have a phone yet, right?" Leland took a step inside, his grin now a dare.
"I can defend my home." My husband threatened. "The police-"
"Yeah, the po-po will probably shoot my black ass, but in the meantime you'll force me to break my promise to your loving wife." His face became a menace. "I don't like to break a promise."
I wanted to tell my husband to stand down, but it was important that he learned what kind of man he really was: A good man. A good husband. A good lover. A good father. A poor warrior.
"I'm walking here." Leland announced with a fake New York accent. He started into the living room.
George was on the verge of tears. "Colleen?" He implored.
"I love you more than anything." I said it from the heart.
My husband stepped aside and brushed his eyes with a sleeved arm. He couldn't look at me after that.
"Colleen, yer looking so domestic. Even a birthday party should kick modesty to the curb." Leland was surprisingly clean. He work black slacks with pressed folds, newer sneakers than I'd seen before, and a unstained shirt with thin, purple stripes running down pastel yellow polyester. His balding pate sported a white straw fedora. He'd even stuck a fabric rose in the eye of his shirt's front pocket. It's red contrasted the shirt decently. I wondered if he had just visited a thrift store. If so, he had cut off the tags before changing.
I spoke curtly. "We're still putting up decorations."
"Let me help." He looked around the room. "Man, if I had birthdays like this, I might have made something of myself." He chuckled.
"We're almost done." George managed to say.
I offered Leland a red balloon. "Nah." He waved it away. "Don't have the lungs for it. Too much crack in my past. Get your husband to do the blowing." He spied a game of pin the tail on the donkey. "I'll set up that."
I pointed to a bare wall in the kitchen. Then I put the balloon end in my mouth and blew. George joined me and inflated another.
My home had never felt so confining. My husband was feeling twice as oppressed as I. I suggested something manly. "Get the coals started." We both knew it was too early to start a barbecue, but he stepped lightly past Leland who mentioned, "She'll be safe in my hands."
I didn't see him shudder, but that's what I imagined George doing before escaping out back.
"What do you think?" Leland had taped the fuzzy board to the wall. The tail had a velcro end for securing it to the donkey's image.
"It's fine." I judged it from the living room.
"Come over and take a good look. You're a woman who don't like shoddy work."
I walked to the line of separation between the living room and the kitchen. "You could have looped the tape and hid it behind the board instead of crossing the corners like that."
"It's not as strong that way." He argued. "A little ugliness is worth the strength."
I wasn't sure if he was talking about the donkey board. He walked up to me and fastened his large hands on the butt of my loose, cotton pants. I flinched from their contact, my bum still sore after the beating it took from those hands, too few days earlier. I turned my head away, wincing as his hands began to fondle the bruised flesh. "I thought you weren't going to do anything."
"What, this is nothing." His hands were making my body twitch and utter light grunts. "Now give me a kiss, and I'll help you with something else." I could only hope that he meant to help with the decorations. That he didn't smell much limited my reservations. It was like he had showered the day before.
I looked out the kitchen window, but George wasn't in view. I lifted my head and kissed Leland's thick lips. With his hands inciting discomfort through my body, my lips acted like they were twerking his until I pulled away, grimacing from little stabs of pain.
"That felt pretty good, didn't it?"
"I'm still sore."
He kept groping my ass. "I know how long it takes before you're ready for another go."
"My children will be home soon." Ridley was probably racing home. Peg would dawdle.
"Then there's no time to waste." He moved away but kept one hand on my butt. It pushed me into the hallway. I assumed his promise meant nothing when he prodded me down the hall and into my bedroom. He even locked the door behind him.
I stood still, dreading likely abuse.
Leland went to my closet and opened it.
My heart started beating again when he riffled through the hanging garments. He was solely intent on finding something more celebratory for me to wear.
"This." He pulled out a light purple, low cut top with frills around the collar. he took out the hanger and tossed it to me. Turning back to the closet, he asked. 'Are all your pants in here?"
"I have shorts in the bottom dresser drawer." I unbuttoned the manish shirt I was wearing. He went to the dresser and pawed through the shorts in there. "You need shorter shorts." It was not a request.
He stopped me when I was pushing an arm into the top he'd chosen. "Un-uh." He shook his head. "Take off the bra."
"What? It's my son's birthday!" I felt some power to resist.
"Yeah, well he's turning fourteen today. Boys that age are thinking of girls, and a good mom should act like it's okay to live less puritanically." That was a large word for Leland's vocabulary. I considered he, like many African-Americans, had a Protestant upbringing, some more severe than others. I also remembered that he didn't swear monotheistically.
"This top is too revealing without a bra."
He snorted. "It's almost a granny shirt." Our perspectives couldn't have been more different. "At least it's not a man's shirt. And it's a fine color for a party." He returned to the closet, leaving the bottom drawer open.
I looked down at my protruding cups and told myself, Ridley was too young to notice or care if his old mother wore a lumpy shirt. I took off my bra and donned the shirt, raveling up the back a little and tucking it into my panties to reduce its neckline.
Leland brought a knee length skirt. I had shorter ones for going out dancing, but I suspected he had picked this one for its colorful, flower print. "This will be fun." He judged my body language. "But you don't seem to have a party mood." He frowned. "How's a kid to enjoy his birthday when his mom is acting like a sourpuss?"
"You know why I'm like this." I contested.
"Ooo, if it wasn't a special day for your ******." His expression darkened. "You'll have to fake it, like every other mom in the world." I suspected a psychologist could earn multiple Ph'Ds writing papers about Leland's psyche, especially Freudian shrinks.
I took the skirt.
His brief anger brightened. "Hey, I know a trick." His patent grin surfaced, and I knew I was doomed. "Go commando today. That'll put hot sauce in your spirit."
The front door shut loudly. "HEY! I'm home!" Ridley wanted everyone to know. What surprised me more was George answering him. "Happy Birthday, Son." How long had my husband been in the house while I was locked in our bedroom with the old, black man who abused me for his pleasure.
Leland stared full of amusement at my expense.
I found my self stepping out of panties before I could muster resistance. He waggled his eyebrows at my groomed pudemdum. I quickly pulled on the skirt and cinched it tight around my waist. Then I re-tucked the back of my blouse.
"Where's Mom?"
"She in our room, changing." George must have realized that I would crack under Leland's comment about my domestic garb. My husband tried not to sound too bitter to his son.
"I'll be out in a minute!" I shouted at the locked door.
"Do you have a ribbon for your hair, or a flower?" The old black ginned.
I found Ridley and George in the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator. My husband allowed my son. "Go ahead and have a snack, but your mother will be disappointed if you don't eat enough of the food she worked hours on, for you today."
"Happy Birthday, Ridley." I mustered a mostly sincere smile. Part of my happiness stemmed from Leland saying he'd pop out in a bit. I wasn't sure of his motive, but I took it as a good thing.
"Moom!" He drew out the word, and his eyes bulged. "You look, uh, rad!" I didn't know kids still used that word. It was already out of fashion when I said it during high school. My surprised son ran over for a hug.
George stared at the fake, red rose in my hair. To him it must have looked like a damsel's favor ribbon for her chosen knight. Guilt gripped me while I hugged my son. When he pulled out of my embrace, I could tell that he was avoiding looking at my chest. I didn't dare look down. I could only go forward. "I know it's your birthday, but if you start eating junk food now, you'll get sick before the party is over." I went to the fridge. George was still holding it open.
"Let's see." I bent over slightly, worried about my skirt pulling up, but knee length was plenty long to prevent embarrassing mishaps. I found a bag of mochi treats with sweet red bean paste. I took two out and closed the door. "Here." I handed them to Ridley. "Eat these for now, and in an hour you can have a chocolate brownie. After supper, you can eat whatever you like."
He looked at the unfamiliar, sweet, rice dumplings like they might be white balls of kale. He bit into one, chewed. Pursed his lips and told me. "They're okay." But he downed the rest of the first one like it was angel food cake.
"Hello, young man!" Leland entered from the hallway but stopped between the living room and kitchen. His deep pitched voice reverberated around the kitchen. "I hear it's your birthday."
Ridley gulped down what was left of his first mochi ball. "Who are you?"
"This is Mr. Jones, Ridley." I intercepted. He's a neighbor from a few blocks away.
"Why is he here?"
Leland handled the question before I could chose a lie. "Well, I been a bit lonely lately, since my wife died. Your mom's been very kind to me for a little while now, and today she let me visit. I won't get in the way of your fun. I just 'preciate having some company, specially at a party. I brought you a present."
Oh shit. "You don't have to do that, Leland." I spoke more assertively than usual to him.
"It's nothing special, but it'd be rude not to have a gift for the birthday boy."
"That's right, Mom!" Ridley was never far from asserting his independence.
The old black reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a not too poorly wrapped gift. It was a small box about the size of a paperback book. "Here, but don't open it until later." Leland's tone deepened. "It'd be rude to open it before your other presents."
"I guess." My son accepted the gift and the stranger's advice with greater willingness than when I lectured.
"Leland, can I fix you a drink? We can talk in the living room." George sounded almost self-possessed. He too felt a parent's instinct to protect his children. It was my bad luck that his instinct to protect his wife wasn't as strong.
"I'll have a beer, George. I'll take it outside, thank you, and call me Mr. Jones. 'Preciate it." He put a hand on my shoulder from behind, as if to tell my husband that his wife might suffer for his impoliteness."
I broke the room's growing tension. "Ridley, I'll put this present with your others, but we'll save it for last.", I didn't say, or another day. He let me have the small package.
"Ridley, huh?" Leland put the hand on my shoulder, to his chin. "Do kids tease you about that being girl's name?"
"Leland, it's also a boy's name-" I began but before I could mention a famous Ridley like the director, Ridley Scott, he had already brushed me aside, verbally.
"Let the boy answer. Did you ever ask him that?"
I couldn't admit to my failure in that regard. My son's head drooped a little. "Sometimes, but I don't care about those dumdums."
"How about if I call you Rider then?" Leland's grin lit up the room and darkened George's and my hearts.
"OH!" Ridley's eyes widened. "Uh, I guess." He downplayed the cool name that this maybe not so bad of a stranger had offered.
Leland strode up to George and took his beer. "Thanks." He headed out back. "See you around, Rider."
My husband and I both wanted to warn our son about the demon among us, but what can you tell a fourteen year old that won't make him curious to learn what made Mr. Jones a dangerous person?
Not sure of what next to do, Ridley unwrapped his second mochi treat and ate it.
To take George's mind off our troubles, I suggested. "Let's finish the decorations." I went into the living room and blew up balloons. When his father joined me, our son thought that was cool and helped out.
Peg showed up with her friend, Ida. We'd met her before and made polite greetings. "I love your outfit, Ms. Fairchild!" Ida delighted.
My ********'s eyes narrowed. My presentation was abnormal to her experience. "Mom, I want to show Ida something in your room. Come with us."
I found myself in a giggling trio, until Peg shut us in my bedroom. "About that present..."
"Oh." I remembered. I went to my closet and fetched one of two wrapped gifts I'd prepared for unprepared party guests. I handed the girl gift to Ida. "It's an action figure for a character in one of Ridley's favorite games." I had to think. "Its name is Draggolitz." It was a very dark character, but I was told the man had a good heart despite his special, decapitation and soul extraction combo.
"I've played that game." Ida bubbled. "Not much of a story. Good guys. Bad guys. A lot of killing, but the fight scenes are pretty epic." Neither Peg nor I were very conversant in video games. I played a few casual ones on my phone. Peg would take her fights with Ridley sometimes to the game console. She could usually best him there, but only on a couple of our games.
Peg's interest was mostly in socializing. Two years ago, we had to pull the plug on her use of social media, deleting all of her profiles. She was furious! George and I hoped, by the time she went to university, she would understand why we had to intervene in her private bubble of suspect adoration. More than one of her 'friends' were asking her for naughty photos, just naughty enough to start a spiral of degradation. I'm glad I policed her accounts. She wished I was dead. Her curse proved worse than that for me.
"Thank you, Ms. Fairchild." Ida leaped and kissed my cheek. I blushed and giggled. We returned to the living room. One of Ridley's friends had arrived, Aaron.
"You're gonna love it." He had given his present. "It has the best graphics! Oops!" Aaron shut his trap and smiled apologetically. Aaron was tall, nerdy, and black. He even wore thick, nerd glasses. "Cuz nerds are cool, Ms. Fairchild!" He once told me. I honestly hoped they were. Aaron was a sweet kid. I suspected he had spent too much on his gift, but his ****** were top earners in the school district.
"I think it's time for better treats." I suggested. We moved to the kitchen where I took a pan out of a warm oven and served plentiful, hot brownies.
"Let's go out back and kick a ball around!" Ridley wanted. Aaron agreed without enthusiasm. That was the price of being at a friend's birthday party. My son opened the back door. "This way we don't have to be cooped up with girls."
Ida had started towards the door but shrank back at Ridley's insensitive comment.
I headed for the outside, anxious to keep Leland at his word.
Peg suddenly burst. "Oh dear gods! MOM, are you not wearing a bra?" She must have seen my chest wobble loosely when I took off for the door.
"Not now, Peg." I dashed out just behind the boys and shut the door. Leland was on the back porch, sitting in a chaise lounge and sipping his beer. "Ho there, Rider! Who's the little brother?"
My son slowed to a halt. "He's not my brother, Mr. Jones. Can't you tell?"
"Ridley," Aaron adjusted his glasses. "That's racist."
"Huh?" My son was now more puzzled. To be clear, calling a person racist had become 'a thing' among kids their age. While certainly not a respectful title, it had come to mean the same as 'dummy.' Baka was also a word the kids sometimes used, taken from Japanese anime.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Jones. He's my friend." Aaron apologized.
"No sweat, Little Man, I got some serious haters for friends, black and white." Leland sat back in his chair and looked up at the cloud dotted sky.
"Who's he?" Aaron asked Ridley.
"I dunno." My son shrugged. "Mom invited him, I think."
"Why did he call you Rider?"
"Right?" Ridley beamed. "Sounds cool, huh?"
"Where's the ball?" Aaron was apparently bored enough by Leland's presence to want to kick a ball. An old man at a kids' party was just an old man to them, his color less important. I surmised.
"It's in the shed." The boys dashed away to it.
"Would you like to sit on my lap." Leland patted it.
"No."
"Heh, the things I'm gonna remember when we're alone again."
"I'm suppose to be enjoying my son's party." I played for sympathy.
"I suppose, but you are also supposed to be on my dick, working a load out of me."
"You can't give me this one day to myself?"
"I 'specially can't!" He glared. "You gotta understand what the real deal between us is."
"I've done awful things for you." I grimaced, unhappiness seething at my core. "That's not enough?"
"You don't know what real awful is, Cunt." He spoke softly but with authority.
"Loretta." I offered.
"She still alive, Woman." His eyes steeled.
For the first time, I felt the hand of death at my throat. I never imagined Leland was that dangerous.
"But I don't get that kind of awful, nor Loretta awful." He sipped his beer. "You'll learn."
A ball flew across the yard. Leland shouted, "Good kick, Rider!"
George emerged into the yard. He surveyed the situation and turned his attention to the grill. Smoke gushed out when he lifted the cover.
I went to my exasperated husband. He didn't look at me. "Coals are ready."
"I'll get the burgers and sausages." I went inside.
"Another boy showed up." Ida sat at the table, looking outside.
Peg was greeting Trent at the front door, the other friend Ridley had invited.
"Hi, Trent!" I called out but went to the refrigerator and pulled out two platters. I headed for the back door. Trent intercepted me. "Can my mind powers to help you with those?" Trent was a little older than Aaron and my son by a few months. He was in the same grade as Peg, but he didn't have any friends in his classes. That was because Trent had a bad reputation for being silly. Girls dismissed him as a child. Boys his age thought he was a sissy. Even gay boys thought a sissy was too silly to befriend.
"You can get the door." I suggested.
Trent didn't move. I caught him staring at my chest. I blushed and lifted the platters to block his view.
"You asked for it, Mom." Peg accused. "What were you thinking?" She didn't mention my lack of a brassiere, but that's what she was talking about.
"Sorry, Ma-am." Trent always called me that. "I had a mind-to-mind call, but I sent it to neuron mail." He crabbed to the back door and opened it. Again his eyes sought out my chest, but he was less obvious about it. I shuffled past him.
"Here's the meat, Honey." I set the platters on the folding table George had set up next to the grill.
I stood by my man, keeping one eye on Leland and one on the boys kicking the ball. Leland remained in chill mode.
Ida stepped outside. "Can I help?"
"Thanks, Ida, but Colleen and I've got this."
George usually called me Leen in casual circumstances, but there was nothing casual for him about Leland's amused presence. The guilt in my stomach churned, but I was helpless. He knew that, and he forgave me, but that didn't mean he could feel better for himself.
"Hey, Ida, you want to explore their shed?" Trent grinned.
"Eew!" She scurried into the yard and shouted at Aaron and Ridley. "Can I kick it?"
"Sure!" Aaron was happy to share the load of playing the game that my son had chosen. He kicked to her, and she caught it like a practiced footballer. She kicked it straight to Ridley. "Pretty good, huh?"
"Yeah." My boy feigned respect. He kicked with all his strength, back at her, the ball hurling like a missile! But Ida wasn't intimidated. She jumped and let it bounce of of her chest, smartly redirecting it to Aaron. "Ouch!" Her hands flew to her chest. Aaron let the ball roll past him. He looked uncertain at Ridley.
"You okay, Hon?" I went to her.
"Yes, Ms. Fairchild. Sometimes," She dropped her voice dramatically. "They." She returned to regular volume. "Get sensitive."
"That's perfectly normal. Will you need a pad?"
"I don't think so."
"Use my bathroom if you need to. There are plenty in there."
"Okay." She turned back to the boys. "I can kick it harder than you two!"
"Trent!" Peg shouted. "Don't be following my mom!" She had emerged when it was obvious that the older boy was stalking me.
I looked back in time to see Trent step aside. "I just wanted to watch them -- kick the ball!" He elaborated.
"Sure you did!" Peg turned to watch her father grill our supper.
"HAH!" Leland erupted but immediately calmed afterward.
"Daddy? Who's that?"
George clenched his teeth for a moment. "He is Mr. Jones. He lives alone, and your mother thought he might like company without expectations placed on him.
Peg whispered. "Sounds like justification for being lazy."
"Don't you talk to him, Peg." *** said out of the side of his mouth. "Your mother said the loss of his wife affected him in a bad way for women."
"How old are you, young lady?" Leland suspected my husband and ******** were talking.
"Fourteen." Peg looked at him like he was made of cheese. She didn't dislike cheese but was trying to eat sensibly. For a teen girl, that meant french fries, plain turkey burgers, and low fat chocolate milk.
I didn't hear their discussion until when George related it to me, as an example of how dangerous, Leland might be. At the time, I was trying to keep track of our black guest, my son, and his icky friend.
Trent moved closer to Ida. "You've got a great body -- for soccer!" The boy had terrible pick up lines and worse timing. She was about to kick the ball but totally missed when Trent spoke.
"Great kick, Ida!" My son laughed.
"Go away!" She told Trent. He went over to Ridley and wished him, "Happy Birthday, Earthling."
I returned to Peg and George. I puffed, "Kids."
"Yeah, kids." Peg tried to sound as judgmental.
I expected her to say more. Nothing left my ********'s lips without a snide comment. Instead of talking, her eyes darted between me and Leland. Her expression darkened, her mind burning glucose as if trying to solve an impenetrable puzzle.
Leland remained on his best behavior as the evening turned into night. He had George fetch a bottle of beer occasionally. He 'asked' me to fix him a platter for supper. Peg was taking note of everything the old, black man said and did. I tried to act only like a good host, but my lack of a bra had set off many suspicions for her.
At one point during the party, when everyone else was eating burgers and dogs, she cornered me alone in the kitchen. "Mom, did you know you're wearing the same colors as Mr. Jones?"
"Really?" I mocked her. "Maybe I should take this off." I wanted her to realize how intrusive she was acting.
Peg wasn't used to me standing up to her. The incident of the slap was mostly behind us. I used to roll over at her whim, but she was learning that her mother's backbone was getting stronger. That only added to mystery of Mr. Jones' unexpected appearance at her brother's party.
Like a lost, conspiracy theorist, she thought everything was connected to everything else. But she was wise enough to stick to something she knew for certain. "And why aren't you wearing bra, Mom. You look ridiculous. Don't try to sluff me off again."
I thought quickly. "If you must know, I just had the urge to be less stiff and proper. That's I'm wearing colorful things. It's just a conincidence that Mr. Jones' shirt has purple in it."
Peg seemed to accept that, but then her eyes bulged out and zeroed in on my skirt. "You didn't."
"Didn't what, Dear?" I called her bluff.
"Never mind. There's no way you'd do that." She nearly ran back outside to be with her friend and her dependable, predicable, manipulatable father.
After supper, our son was allowed to open his presents. Aaron's gift was something beyond nice. "MOM! It's a SteamDeck!" His jaw remained opened, turning the portable console's carton over and over."
"Aaron, that's far too expensive!" I blurted before thinking.
"It's the cheapest one, Ms. Fairchild. Ridley is my best friend."
My son got up and hugged his friend. "Wow. Just wow. Thank you!"
"Don't be getting all mushy on me, baka. I got you one so we can go PVP on each other."
"Now that sounds dirty." Leland chuckled. He sat just far enough away to not be automatically included in the present opening circle.
"Player vs. Player, Mr. Jones." Ida wanted to be helpful.
"Basketball?" He knitted his eyebrows.
"Just computer games. Lots of them, Leland." I settled the matter.
The last present opened was one I had given to Trent, because he'd brought a second hand toy in a paper bag. Ridley asked him. "How did you know I needed a new backup battery for my game machines?"
"Perhaps now, you won't scoff at my mind powers." Trent puffed up his chest.
I wanted to vomit a little.
"There's one present left." Leland spoke plainly.
"It's getting late, Leland, Ridley can open it in the morning. We should light the candles on his cake."
"Colleen, I've been a reasonable guest all this time. Do me the favor of letting me see him open it, or I'll have to come back in the morning. You know how I get cold." He shot with both barrels.
I gulped.
Peg's senses switched to CIA mode. There was something important in the subtext of the stranger's lecture.
My hand trembled when I pulled the last gift from under a discarded wrapper. I had been hoping to hide it. "Here, Ridley." I handed it to my son. "Don't expect much. Mr. Jones is living on Social Security."
When the present's wrapping fell away, all jaws in the room dropped.
"You know what those are, Rider, right? They teach about them in school these days, I thought." Leland had given my son a dozen, S sized, latex condoms.
"WHOA!" Trent broke our stunned silence.
"Gods." Peg whispered.
"Leland, this is highly inappropriate. Ridley, thank Mr. Jones, but give them back to him."
"Nah, they're just a bit of fun. I use to blow them up like balloons!" He tried to joke, but I knew he put another black mark next to my name.
"We have plenty of actual balloons." George hadn't called him Leland after the first time today, but he had avoided calling the black man, "Mr. Jones." It was one way that he could maintain a measure of dignity. My husband stood up. "I need some air." He managed to conceal his fuming on the way outside.
"Thank you, Mr. Jones." My son stood up to walk the present back to him.
"You keep them, Rider. Your mother's just feeling a little stressed. She wanted you have a wonderful party, but that takes a lot out of a person. Please forgive her for speaking out of line." Leland said that but he wouldn't be forgiving me anytime soon.
"Oh, let him have them, Mom. He doesn't know what to do with them anyhow." Peg's mind was blown however. All of her detective work had gone up in smoke.
"I do too!" Ridley almost shouted.
"I'll take them." Trent would forever be unable to read a room.
"Dude, they're kind of weird - don't you think?" Aaron looked more confused than freaked out.
"Ridley," Ida spoke softly. "I don't think they're weird."
"Damn straight, little lady!" Leland slapped his knee. "It's just a part of life. Those just suppose to remind you to be responsible, Rider. They don't mean nothing more."
"Hnnn." Aaron considered the idea. "I think I get it now, Big Brother."
"Fine!" I hissed. "Keep them. Just don't think, when you get your first chance to use them, that you can use those! They'll be long out of date by then, and uselessly fragile." I lectured, my heart sinking. Leland had ripped away my little boy's innocence in addition to his attempt to change my dear son's name.
"Yay!" Trent threw up his hands. Others joined in his shout. It was the worst birthday party ever for a mom with fierce need for normal.
After singing Happy Birthday and eating cake, it was nearly 7pm. I offered to drive the boys and girl home, but they said it wasn't too late for them to walk. Peg would accompany Ida. She asked if she could spend the night with her. She made it clear, that she'd had enough of her brother's insufferable, if temporary, high status.
The boys left together. Ida told my son. "I had a great time, Rider. Good night."
Peg dragged her friend outside. "You actually called him that?"
"I was just-"
"Whatever." My ******** shut the door.
I started weeping, but you could only tell if you looked close at my eyes.
"Mr. Jones, I think you made your point today." George had summoned his courage again.
"Good!" Leland stepped right up to my husband and stabbed a fat finger into his breast bone. "Then we are in agreement about your place here."
"Mr. Jones?" Ridley looked disappointed. "Why are you being mean to my Daddy?"
"He's your ***, Boy. Don't be a pussy." Leland's last measure of restraint kept him from adding, "...like your father."
Instead, he told me, "Get your purse, Colleen. I need you to drive me home."
...to be continued...
Unjust Desserts
Chapter 8
I screamed and screamed inside the tiny hotel room. It was as disgusting as the one he'd paid for last time at The Stadium. No doubt, he had taken me there to reinforce his lesson about being lucky that he only whipped me with a belt!
Leland had rented a spreader bar from Jason the pimp. I lay on my back, pussy open to my tormentor's attacks. He belted my vulva mercilessly! My tits were striped red too from the folded length of leather. I kept screaming. No one came to my rescue.
"You fucking, fucking CUNT!" He howled at me! "You just had to push my buttons. I treated you better than right. You even let your cuck husband take secret jibes at me!"
"My boy! You twisted him. He was so sweet!" I shrieked. My maternal instinct had arrived late for kicking the old black man out of our life that horrible day! I kept up a stream of repetition about the wreck he'd made of my son's birthday party. I was no longer helpless emotionally. My tirade kept me sane through his brutal assault.
He threw down his belt and fell on top of me. In a minute, his fat prick was stuffing my aching fuck hole. I sobbed then.
He didn't last long that time. It wasn't five minutes before his plunging cock erupted with hot cum, flooding my beaten pussy and squishing out from our joined sexes.
Leland pushed me off of the cot, the spreader bar still locked to my ankles. I fell awkwardly on my butt. He hadn't whipped it, preferring torture my more sensitive tissues. My sobs accelerated.
Long before my tears slowed. He was asleep. I lay shivering on what remained of a filthy, stinking carpet. I don't think I slept that night. I lay on the floor worried about my ******. What would they think when I showed up the next day? Would he keep me longer? Leland may have hired the room for a full night, but could he afford multiple days there?
My body was comatose from pain, but my mind swirled with anxiety!
I didn't feel the anklets being unbuckled and the spreader bar falling when Leland picked me up and put me on the cot. I don't know what time of the night it happened. He pushed a renewed, thick erection into my sore puss and fucked me slowly. He didn't say anything, but he kissed my beaten body, from lips to belly button, spending plenty of time kissing and sucking and licking my tits.
In the dark of that awful night, my greatest shame came to pass. "Uuuhhnnggh!!" I groaned loudly.
"There it is, Baby." His voice was at peace. "You're finally doing it."
I was cumming.
Somehow the contrast of pain and gentleness had set me up for my body's ultimate betrayal of my psyche.
The extent of my orgasm isn't important. It was not very intense, nor did it last long. Although I welcomed its temporary relief from pain, My life's burden had increased with my greater fall from innocence. Before cumming from Leland's kisses and slow fucking, I could claim to be a victim. Technically, I still could. Even a woman who orgasms during **** is criminally violated if it's against her will.
My experience was one of my world crashing upon my shoulders. I was betraying my husband and neglecting my children. "No, no no no..."
"Shhhh, Colleen." Leland continued to kiss and fuck me, but I didn't climax again that night.
He fucked me that following morning. I pleaded with him to let me go home. He fucked me two hours later. The man was a bull. I had a milder climax, not quite a real orgasm in my book. He didn't lord it over me that second time. I think he just failed to notice it. I had kept quiet through my brief, pleasurable throes.
Finally, he led me down to the lobby, my 'birthday party' clothes in terrible disarray, my hair and skin filthy from the room, and Leland's cum.
It was finally check-out time. He escorted me to my Volvo and opened the door. "You still owe me." Leland shut me in and wandered down the shadowed street. I sat in the locked vehicle until I had spilled what tears remained in my eyes.
The kids were at school when I returned home, but George had stayed out of work. I wept fresh tears in his embrace. He patted me awkwardly, jealousy and sympathy at odds in his heart. He guided me to our bedroom.
There, he drew a hot bath and helped me step in. I nearly begged him to drown me, but I was too afraid of being rejected. For the first time, George saw the welts on my body, but he did not falter in supporting me.
My grieving husband waited in the chair by his bed. I heard him sniffing unhappily.
When the water grew cold, I climbed out, toweling myself while going to him. "You're amazing, George. You did your best yesterday.
I did not, Colleen. His head remained bowed. "I hated you, really hated you for letting him in our home. He's been here before, right."
He didn't need me to confirm his suspicions. "The only hate you have, My Love, isn't for me. You had no choice. Please, Husband, forgive yourself."
"I try. I know the truth. Mr. J- LEland is the one responsible. But I did think ill of you obeying him."
"How so?" I sat on the edge of the bed across from his chair.
He had to wrestle the question from humiliation's grip. "Did obeying him turn you on?"
I shook my head. "I hated it, but what I hate worse is my inability to stand up for myself."
"Tell me about it." His lone jibe submerged into a sea of shame. We sat for an hour wanting to hold each other, both unable to enact that hypocrisy.
The children walked quickly after their release from school. I was wearing my opaque robe, but a bra and panties would have been torture. "Mom! Why were you gone all night?" Ridley shook me in his hugging arms. I winced under his embrace, hearing his frustration. "I wanted you to tuck me in bed!"
"Pooh, you're too old to be tucked in." I patted his hair as arrhythmically as he hugged me. "But it was my Birthday!"
"I can tuck you in tonight if you want."
"Don't be a pest, Brat. You may be fourteen now, but your special day is over." Peg was in fine form. "Mom, what happened between you and Mr. Jones last night?" She went in for the kill.
"PEG!" George shouted.
She scowled, allowing her question to hang. Ridley was instantly interested too.
I sighed, shaking my head. "You have some imagination, Peg." I began. "Mr. Jones isn't used to eating all the junk we served last night. He got ill, and I decided to stay with him overnight. I even took him to the hospital this morning, but they said it wasn't serious. Fortunately, Medicare paid for his exam." I could have added something about his deceased wife, but George might have laughed.
"You know your mother has a soft heart for underprivileged people. Peg, you need to start seeing the good in her, instead of blaming her for the constraints that caring parents place on their children."
Although Peg could wrap her daddy around her little finger, she was also more likely to be swayed by his lectures over mine.
The antagonistic mood in the room cleared, and we strived for a normal evening together. Before going to bed that night, I asked Ridley if he wanted me to tuck him in. He saw Peg holding back her mirth, a first for her. "I guess not. I'm glad you could help Mr. Jones."
"Good night -- Rider." Peg let loose with a cackle.
"PEG!" It was my turn to be cross with her.
"I was just joking, Mom." She kept shuddering, stifling laughter.
"It's your bedtime too."
"Yeah, yeah." She headed to her room.
I snuggled up to George.
"Not tonight, Colleen." He looked miserable.
"Not even a good night kiss?"
My husband stood up, looking suddenly wretched as if he'd been holding back his pain all day. "I just need more time, er, this time."
I stared at a black screen for nearly an hour before going to bed. I took care not to wake him.
***
An entire weekend commenced without a single, noteworthy event! It was marvelous to live like a ****** you'd watch on a general audience's cable channel. I accepted George's reticence to be sexual. Unfortunately, those two relatively peaceful days raced past us.
George had already left for work when I woke up on Monday morning. I crept out of our bedroom just in time to wish the kids a good day at school.
I went to work without breakfast, having finished the birthday leftovers for Sunday's dinner. I was a little behind on my quota, but I could handle support calls very efficiently compared to the department's average time. I didn't catch up that day, but I got close. I had a baloney sandwich for lunch.
George kissed me good night that night, but that was all. I slept well. In the morning, while he dressed and went to fix breakfast, I took my basal temperature and checked my cervical mucus. Fear gripped me when the results showed that I was beginning to ovulate.
I arrived late for breakfast. I ate a hard-boiled egg and a slice of toast with strawberry jam. The ****** dispersed.
By Tuesday's end, I'd exceeded my quota by a small margin. I fixed a salad for lunch during my shift. When it was over, I took a bath and rested. Ridley found me in my house robe lying in bed. I had left the door open because being alone in a closed room was beginning to make me anxious.
"Hey, Mom." He poked his head in.
"Hey."
"Are you sick?"
"No, Honey. I had a stressful day."
"I could give you a massage."
"That's very kind of you, but that's your father's job."
"We don't have to tell him."
I suddenly felt like I was in a story trope. "Now you're just being silly."
He giggled. "Peg would flip if she saw me rubbing your back."
"So that's what you're up to." I figured his motives didn't center on me.
"She started it, trying to accuse you of doing something bad with Mr. Jones."
"I forgive her. She has her problems which I can only do so much to help her with."
"That's what makes her mean?"
"What makes you want to be mean to her?"
"I don't know. She's so unfair all the time."
"What did you think of Mr. Jones?" I skipped a beat in our conversation.
"Huh?" His head tilted. "Uh..." He thought for a bit. "...I guess he's okay. I didn't like that he was mean to ***." He said "***" instead of "Daddy."
"Mr. Jones was very tired, and his upset stomach got the best of him. Can you forgive him?"
"I guess." My son took a gamble in telling me, "I kinda liked being called Rider."
"Even when your sister made fun of that?"
"She's just jealous that I got something cool from him even better than condoms."
"You think your sister cares about an old, black man?"
"You're being racist, Mom."
"I suppose you're right, but how would you react if you found Mr. Jones doing something bad to me?"
"I'd beat him up, Mom. He's just an old guy. Would he do something bad to you?"
"No, Sweetheart. I'm just trying to understand how you feel about him."
"Huh."
"Do you have homework?"
"Yeah." He shuffled away to his room.
I imagined Ridley smashing a baseball bat into Leland's spine, after discovering him belting me. I wish I could report masturbating to that comforting image of being saved by my son. I just sighed and dressed for the evening.
A text arrived on my phone, from an unknown number. "I finally bought a new phone, Leen! Give me a call." I considered Leland was playing a trick on me, but I had entered the black man's new number in my contact info, so his calls would bypass filters against unknown callers. I texted back. "What did the garage mechanic ask me?"
"I'm not sure I should text that without encryption."
Close enough. I called him. "Congratulations, George, you're living in the real world again."
"It's a strange, real world."
"You're telling me." I wished I hadn't said that.
"That tells me you aren't forgiving yourself enough, Leen."
"How are you doing on that 'work?'"
"Poorly, but I'm feeling less sorry for myself."
"Why don't we celebrate spending a bunch of money for your phone, by going out for dinner?"
"We could spend even more if we brought the kids."
"I'll read their muzzles."
I had been kidding. George wasn't. He took the ****** to a sushi restaurant! Peg was adventurous enough to try the raw nigiri. Ridley made a face and ordered tempura shrimp. My stomach churned at the thought of all that grease in my son's young stomach, but he had survived a ton of junk food on his birthday.
I ordered ebi, complete with its deep-fried, whole shell. And uni, a disgusting pile of sagging meat that looked like baby poop but when fresh, tasted unlike other delicious things.
George attempted to order fugu, hoping to outdo my sushi challenge, but I instantly shot down that notion, and our server said it wasn't available on or off the menu. He then ordered, "One of each thing that has fish eggs on it."
The variety of sushi that arrived for him didn't look all that bad. Ridley made a face but soaked up all of his dipping sauce with his deep-fried shrimp. I added a reminder on my phone to buy stomach medicine on our way home. The dinner bill was our largest ever.
Alone in our room that night, George and I hugged and kissed. I asked if he wanted to hear a story.
His sudden meekness surprised me. "You like telling them, don't you?"
"I thought you were enjoying them?"
"They're hot, but they've all been about cuckolding me."
I told a little white lie to my husband. "Um, that because-" I toyed with a lock of my hair and cast my eyes slightly down. "By telling them, they help me to cope with what I'm going through." In hindsight, I think that may have been true, but the real reason was to help him cope with my infidelity. His reactions were so far, quite positive. I took the initiative and met his gaze. "Tonight's story is about a black man. Is that going too far?"
He blinked. "That would be kinda tough, Leen, but if it helps you to process what you're going through, I would be a poor husband for not participating."
For a moment, I wondered how much my husband's previous climaxes influenced his answer, but I suspect I could have asked to snip off his toes and fingers, claim it was helping me, and he would have gladly sharpened the sheers. I kissed him again, gently and sweetly. After wonderful seconds, I pulled away smiling. "Show me your beautiful cock, Husband."
He quickly worked off his boxer briefs. His pants were already on the floor by his side of the bed. I took hold of his semi-hard penis and gently rubbed it with an open palm. "You keep it so clean and healthy." I meant it as a compliment, but that small truth felt no longer important for lovemaking. I looked forward to sucking it, though.
"You know how to handle me, Leen." He lay on his back and relaxed into the sensation of my fingers wrapping around his erecting shaft and slowly stroking. "Hmmnn."
"You know how our Prius is larger than the Volvo, but did you realize that my car's interior is larger."
"That makes sense." George lifted his head to answer and found me unbuttoning my pajama top. "Newer cars are designed with more crush space for protection.
"That's why I lure you into the back seat of my car and pull up my skirt. I'm not wearing panties, and I say, 'warm me up.'" You look up and down the street, but the night is falling, and the only person around is busy putting landscaping equipment into his old truck a few houses away.
"So you bend down between my legs and give me wonderful head! I intend to return the favor before we get fully to business, but it feels so good I beg for more. I run my fingers through your hair while my excitement grows exponentially! Soon I'm humping my pussy into your proficient mouth. The windows are partly steamed up and the old Volvo rocks slightly. 'Honey, oh, Honey!" I cry out, almost shrieking when my climax explodes!"
"Would you like some for real?" George asked, looking down at his pudgy torso, eyebrows wagging.
"I would, very much, Dear, but this story is for you." My hand moved a little faster. I gave his prick-head a long lick! He grunted, and his head dropped to his pillow again. "Suddenly, the door behind you opens swiftly. A man calls out, 'Are you okay, Ma-am!?'
"'GODS!' I curl away from him across the seat, my pussy openly glistening from your saliva. I shout, 'I'm okay, Mister! This is my husband!' You turn around until you're sitting next to the open doorway, ready to defend me.
"The man is darkly skinned, far darker than dusk in the sky. He's wearing a grass-stained, blue jumpsuit and carrying a small, sharp hand shovel - which he promptly sticks a rear pocket. He steps back, but he's mesmerized by my wet, hairy crotch.
"I throw my skirt over my knees to hide from the man's stirring eyes. 'George?' I check in with you. 'I guess, um, the man just made a mistake.' You respond without much conviction. You're still quite startled by the large but lean laborer.
"'Heh, I'm surprised I don't have a sore jaw, Mister.' The black man chuckles at you. 'You need to act faster than that, to protect your woman.'
"'George doesn't act in haste.'" I support you. "'He considers the situation before acting.'
"'Yeah, I guess that's fine and all, but if I had been a serial killer, your man would be dying from a shovel through his neck.' The stranger's respect for you noticeably diminishes.
"You stand up for yourself but shrink a little in your seat. 'I would give my life to protect her and our children.'
"'Fool, a limp, dead body, ain't much protection. You gotta act quick as a knife to stop a killer.'
"'Please! Let's stop the talk about killing.' I say loudly.
"Yes, right. Of course, little lady. Like you two love birds, I'm a man of a different kind of action.' He grins, pats his crotch once, and winks. 'Well equipped too!'"
As the sentence ends, my hand is grasping and stroking George's very hard dick. "George, you can't help but look at the bulge in the crotch of the black man's jumpsuit. You want to say more, to defend your honor and reassure me about being my protector, but the right words tangle on your tongue before you can speak them because most of your attention is noticing how the stranger's tent is growing.
"'My name's Louis Kingsley.' The man offers a large, black hand to you. You take it and immediately learn the man's profession has made his hands very strong, but he shakes yours peaceably if confidently. 'Sorry to interrupt. No hard feelings?'
"'I suppose not.' You pull your hand away from his which dwarfs yours.
"Louis frowns and speaks sternly. 'You didn't tell me your name.'
"You gulp, and I have to answer for you. 'You heard me call him George.'
"'I suppose I did, but I was talking man to man. Now I'm beginning to wonder about that.' Mr. Kingsley glares at you. 'Maybe I was talking to a pussy man.' The saliva and cunt juices on your face don't help your case.
"'I'm George Fairchild, Louis, and you need to understand that oral sex has nothing to do with masculinity. Love in all its forms rises far above gender roles.' Well, said, Husband. I give you a proud smile and sharp nod." George's incredibly stiff peter twitched in my cycling hand but was still away from climaxing.
"Louis gives a little shake of his head and looks at me. 'Does he talk like that all the time? Sheeesh. You must have a low bar for excitement.' He chuckles.
"'Please,' I don't know why I'm acting so politely. It was time for Mr. Kingsley to head back to his truck and leave us alone. What I say though is, 'Can we have our privacy?'
"Louis puts a hand to his chin instead of leaving. He glances at you but mostly looks at me, examining my figure from hair to socks. 'Let me think about that. I mean, I'm sorry I interrupted you two, but now I wonder how you gonna get what you wanted your man for. He's looking less like a horn dog and more like a slapped dog. I feel bad to deprive you of good love, Ma-am. Tell me your name.' He didn't ask."
"You start to pipe up, but he shushes you harshly. Hoping to settle the situation, I say with a slight warble. 'I'm Colleen.'
"'You're a beautiful woman, Colleen.' He privately decides something and acts as quickly as he recommends. His hand goes to your underarm and he tugs you towards him. "Colleen and I need to have a little talk, George. Let's get you in the front seat.'
"You both are on the passenger side of the car. His free hand opens the front door, and with firm urging he guides you carefully out of the back and into the front seat. 'I think you'll learn something.' He tells you before climbing in and scooting to the middle of the bench seat. His feet straddle the drive shaft cover. I can't shrink farther away from him, but he gives a warm smile that disarms me. 'Tell me the truth, Colleen. Do you think George is in any state to satisfy you at the moment?'
"Your head whips around to look at us, eyes worried about my answer."
"'My husband is a wonderful lover.' I assert.
"Louis leans closer until he's an inch from me. 'I can tell you two are soul mates, and that makes for powerful love. But you didn't answer my question. Right now, is your man ready to knock you into orbit with a hard dick and flood your pretty pussy with a gallon of cum?'
"'Your question is irrelevant, Louis. You're intimidating us. Of course, we aren't in the mood-'
"He interrupts. 'Your man certainly ain't in the mood, but don't lie to me about yours. I have been watching your eyes, your breaths. Maybe you think you're just scared, but I'm not fooled. I bet your pussy is more wet now than when Pussy Sucker stopped licking it.'
"'You're being incredibly rude.' I warn him. You chime in. 'You should go back outside and stop pestering us."
"Louis ignores you. 'You're damn right I'm foulmouthed, but I'm talking truth, Pretty Lady, and passion. Show me I'm wrong. Go on. Lift that skirt. I've already seen your sexy pussy. Another peek won't make any difference.'
"But, George, you know that it'll make all the difference, how I have to strong-willed men. You warn, 'He's goading you, Colleen. Just get out of the car.'
"Louis gives a sharp laugh! 'Now your man's talking sense, but you need something before you can go home. Two things.' He doesn't spell them out. I of course want to prove the black man wrong about his accusation. But the second 'thing' compels me to pull my skirt slowly up to my waist. 'You're wrong.' I lie. 'There's just some fluid from before you intruded, and it's mostly dried up.'
"He snorts. 'That's not what I'm talking about.' He had already proved to act quickly. Before I can close my thighs tighter, his hand dives between them, and his middle finger slips into my pussy! For his speed, he's surprisingly gentle. I suck in a breath. 'Don't!' I cry too late.
"'Get away from her, Louis. Leave us! Just go.' You sputter in the front seat across from us."
George's body, prone on my bed, was shaking from my hand's firm, pleasuring strokes. His engorged pecker had been throbbing for a while. I guessed he had a minute or less before an intense orgasm.
"Oh, Honey, I don't think I can take more." My husband's groans were unhappy but passionately aroused.
"Please, a little more, Sweetheart. Hold yourself back. It's helping." I assured George without specifying who he was helping. His erection began thrusting through my jerking grip. I resumed my tale, heading steadily to a conclusion.
"'Call me, Mr. Kingsley, Fool. And you, Woman, admit it! Your pussy is soaking my finger. Now I bet you're ready for some action.' The intruder in our car begins porking my slick cunt with his thickest, strongest finger. I gasp and feel close to tears. 'I'm sorry, George! It's happening again, and I can't help myself!' I'm begging your forgiveness as a black stranger fingers my juicing fuck hole.'
"But Louis Kingsley isn't being altruistic. He made plans the moment he first saw my wet pussy. Now, he gets up from his seat and turns his back to you. 'Unzip my suit, Fool. Let your slut wife see what a real man's dick looks like.'
"'George, I beg you!' I squeal my thoughts a tangle of fear and arousal. But you misunderstand my frantic words. I don't want you to unleash what the powerful, black man has for me in his pants. But you love me so much, you want to give Louis physical attention to me. Out of love, you unzip his blue jumpsuit to his tailbone!
"'That's a good, Cuck!' Louis growls. He pulls his finger out of my wet slit, having released a steady stream of my fuck juice, and in a flash, he shucks the workman's jumper down to his thighs. From out of his sweaty crotch, a huge black cock springs out. It's about as large as Leland's! 'Open up, you white slut! Here's what you need.'
"My mind recoils in horror when my body responds to the black stranger's demand. My left leg jams under the driver's seat, and my right one flies up and over the back of the bench. That foot jams against the rear window. The windows are dripping from our hot breaths. My pussy opens wide, and Louis is quick to grab his jutting prick and aim it down until the fat head is ready to spear into my uncontrollable body!"
"UUYAAAAA!!" George howled! His torso convulsed, and I dove my open mouth over the tip of his exploding dick before the first spurt. I abruptly sucked and drank like a pimped-out whore, cooing as he released his ball juice down my gulping throat!
Again, I marveled at the light, almost sweet salty flavor as my loving husband bucked his firm peter deep into my mouth. I only choked for a second before my experience with a much larger cock overrode my autonomic reflex.
George twitched for a while after his fountain dribbled down to nothing. I kept sucking, gently, but his peter shrank in my mouth. "Oh, Colleen. These stories, I'm starting to worry about them. I can't accept my incredible reaction.
"Sweetheart," I said upon pulling my mouth off of his limp penis. "They're just stories. But I'm glad I'm not boring you with them." A mischievous smile crossed my face. "You're just enjoying a fantasy that would never interest you in real life."
My panting husband kept strangely quiet for a while. I figured he was simply focusing on the pleasure still drifting through his senses.
I climbed up the bed and straddled his heaving belly. He smiled up at me when I took his right hand and placed its fingers on my very wet vulva. I moaned when he pushed two fingers inside and stroked my cunt walls. His thumb rubbed my clit, massaging the turgid nub in slow circles.
I bent down and kissed his lips while he worked to pleasure me. I came after a while by remembering the times he had sucked on my pussy and clit. He was not only talented but incredibly enduring. We slept arm in arm until sunrise.
...to be continued...
I screamed and screamed inside the tiny hotel room. It was as disgusting as the one he'd paid for last time at The Stadium. No doubt, he had taken me there to reinforce his lesson about being lucky that he only whipped me with a belt!
Leland had rented a spreader bar from Jason the pimp. I lay on my back, pussy open to my tormentor's attacks. He belted my vulva mercilessly! My tits were striped red too from the folded length of leather. I kept screaming. No one came to my rescue.
"You fucking, fucking CUNT!" He howled at me! "You just had to push my buttons. I treated you better than right. You even let your cuck husband take secret jibes at me!"
"My boy! You twisted him. He was so sweet!" I shrieked. My maternal instinct had arrived late for kicking the old black man out of our life that horrible day! I kept up a stream of repetition about the wreck he'd made of my son's birthday party. I was no longer helpless emotionally. My tirade kept me sane through his brutal assault.
He threw down his belt and fell on top of me. In a minute, his fat prick was stuffing my aching fuck hole. I sobbed then.
He didn't last long that time. It wasn't five minutes before his plunging cock erupted with hot cum, flooding my beaten pussy and squishing out from our joined sexes.
Leland pushed me off of the cot, the spreader bar still locked to my ankles. I fell awkwardly on my butt. He hadn't whipped it, preferring torture my more sensitive tissues. My sobs accelerated.
Long before my tears slowed. He was asleep. I lay shivering on what remained of a filthy, stinking carpet. I don't think I slept that night. I lay on the floor worried about my ******. What would they think when I showed up the next day? Would he keep me longer? Leland may have hired the room for a full night, but could he afford multiple days there?
My body was comatose from pain, but my mind swirled with anxiety!
I didn't feel the anklets being unbuckled and the spreader bar falling when Leland picked me up and put me on the cot. I don't know what time of the night it happened. He pushed a renewed, thick erection into my sore puss and fucked me slowly. He didn't say anything, but he kissed my beaten body, from lips to belly button, spending plenty of time kissing and sucking and licking my tits.
In the dark of that awful night, my greatest shame came to pass. "Uuuhhnnggh!!" I groaned loudly.
"There it is, Baby." His voice was at peace. "You're finally doing it."
I was cumming.
Somehow the contrast of pain and gentleness had set me up for my body's ultimate betrayal of my psyche.
The extent of my orgasm isn't important. It was not very intense, nor did it last long. Although I welcomed its temporary relief from pain, My life's burden had increased with my greater fall from innocence. Before cumming from Leland's kisses and slow fucking, I could claim to be a victim. Technically, I still could. Even a woman who orgasms during **** is criminally violated if it's against her will.
My experience was one of my world crashing upon my shoulders. I was betraying my husband and neglecting my children. "No, no no no..."
"Shhhh, Colleen." Leland continued to kiss and fuck me, but I didn't climax again that night.
He fucked me that following morning. I pleaded with him to let me go home. He fucked me two hours later. The man was a bull. I had a milder climax, not quite a real orgasm in my book. He didn't lord it over me that second time. I think he just failed to notice it. I had kept quiet through my brief, pleasurable throes.
Finally, he led me down to the lobby, my 'birthday party' clothes in terrible disarray, my hair and skin filthy from the room, and Leland's cum.
It was finally check-out time. He escorted me to my Volvo and opened the door. "You still owe me." Leland shut me in and wandered down the shadowed street. I sat in the locked vehicle until I had spilled what tears remained in my eyes.
The kids were at school when I returned home, but George had stayed out of work. I wept fresh tears in his embrace. He patted me awkwardly, jealousy and sympathy at odds in his heart. He guided me to our bedroom.
There, he drew a hot bath and helped me step in. I nearly begged him to drown me, but I was too afraid of being rejected. For the first time, George saw the welts on my body, but he did not falter in supporting me.
My grieving husband waited in the chair by his bed. I heard him sniffing unhappily.
When the water grew cold, I climbed out, toweling myself while going to him. "You're amazing, George. You did your best yesterday.
I did not, Colleen. His head remained bowed. "I hated you, really hated you for letting him in our home. He's been here before, right."
He didn't need me to confirm his suspicions. "The only hate you have, My Love, isn't for me. You had no choice. Please, Husband, forgive yourself."
"I try. I know the truth. Mr. J- LEland is the one responsible. But I did think ill of you obeying him."
"How so?" I sat on the edge of the bed across from his chair.
He had to wrestle the question from humiliation's grip. "Did obeying him turn you on?"
I shook my head. "I hated it, but what I hate worse is my inability to stand up for myself."
"Tell me about it." His lone jibe submerged into a sea of shame. We sat for an hour wanting to hold each other, both unable to enact that hypocrisy.
The children walked quickly after their release from school. I was wearing my opaque robe, but a bra and panties would have been torture. "Mom! Why were you gone all night?" Ridley shook me in his hugging arms. I winced under his embrace, hearing his frustration. "I wanted you to tuck me in bed!"
"Pooh, you're too old to be tucked in." I patted his hair as arrhythmically as he hugged me. "But it was my Birthday!"
"I can tuck you in tonight if you want."
"Don't be a pest, Brat. You may be fourteen now, but your special day is over." Peg was in fine form. "Mom, what happened between you and Mr. Jones last night?" She went in for the kill.
"PEG!" George shouted.
She scowled, allowing her question to hang. Ridley was instantly interested too.
I sighed, shaking my head. "You have some imagination, Peg." I began. "Mr. Jones isn't used to eating all the junk we served last night. He got ill, and I decided to stay with him overnight. I even took him to the hospital this morning, but they said it wasn't serious. Fortunately, Medicare paid for his exam." I could have added something about his deceased wife, but George might have laughed.
"You know your mother has a soft heart for underprivileged people. Peg, you need to start seeing the good in her, instead of blaming her for the constraints that caring parents place on their children."
Although Peg could wrap her daddy around her little finger, she was also more likely to be swayed by his lectures over mine.
The antagonistic mood in the room cleared, and we strived for a normal evening together. Before going to bed that night, I asked Ridley if he wanted me to tuck him in. He saw Peg holding back her mirth, a first for her. "I guess not. I'm glad you could help Mr. Jones."
"Good night -- Rider." Peg let loose with a cackle.
"PEG!" It was my turn to be cross with her.
"I was just joking, Mom." She kept shuddering, stifling laughter.
"It's your bedtime too."
"Yeah, yeah." She headed to her room.
I snuggled up to George.
"Not tonight, Colleen." He looked miserable.
"Not even a good night kiss?"
My husband stood up, looking suddenly wretched as if he'd been holding back his pain all day. "I just need more time, er, this time."
I stared at a black screen for nearly an hour before going to bed. I took care not to wake him.
***
An entire weekend commenced without a single, noteworthy event! It was marvelous to live like a ****** you'd watch on a general audience's cable channel. I accepted George's reticence to be sexual. Unfortunately, those two relatively peaceful days raced past us.
George had already left for work when I woke up on Monday morning. I crept out of our bedroom just in time to wish the kids a good day at school.
I went to work without breakfast, having finished the birthday leftovers for Sunday's dinner. I was a little behind on my quota, but I could handle support calls very efficiently compared to the department's average time. I didn't catch up that day, but I got close. I had a baloney sandwich for lunch.
George kissed me good night that night, but that was all. I slept well. In the morning, while he dressed and went to fix breakfast, I took my basal temperature and checked my cervical mucus. Fear gripped me when the results showed that I was beginning to ovulate.
I arrived late for breakfast. I ate a hard-boiled egg and a slice of toast with strawberry jam. The ****** dispersed.
By Tuesday's end, I'd exceeded my quota by a small margin. I fixed a salad for lunch during my shift. When it was over, I took a bath and rested. Ridley found me in my house robe lying in bed. I had left the door open because being alone in a closed room was beginning to make me anxious.
"Hey, Mom." He poked his head in.
"Hey."
"Are you sick?"
"No, Honey. I had a stressful day."
"I could give you a massage."
"That's very kind of you, but that's your father's job."
"We don't have to tell him."
I suddenly felt like I was in a story trope. "Now you're just being silly."
He giggled. "Peg would flip if she saw me rubbing your back."
"So that's what you're up to." I figured his motives didn't center on me.
"She started it, trying to accuse you of doing something bad with Mr. Jones."
"I forgive her. She has her problems which I can only do so much to help her with."
"That's what makes her mean?"
"What makes you want to be mean to her?"
"I don't know. She's so unfair all the time."
"What did you think of Mr. Jones?" I skipped a beat in our conversation.
"Huh?" His head tilted. "Uh..." He thought for a bit. "...I guess he's okay. I didn't like that he was mean to ***." He said "***" instead of "Daddy."
"Mr. Jones was very tired, and his upset stomach got the best of him. Can you forgive him?"
"I guess." My son took a gamble in telling me, "I kinda liked being called Rider."
"Even when your sister made fun of that?"
"She's just jealous that I got something cool from him even better than condoms."
"You think your sister cares about an old, black man?"
"You're being racist, Mom."
"I suppose you're right, but how would you react if you found Mr. Jones doing something bad to me?"
"I'd beat him up, Mom. He's just an old guy. Would he do something bad to you?"
"No, Sweetheart. I'm just trying to understand how you feel about him."
"Huh."
"Do you have homework?"
"Yeah." He shuffled away to his room.
I imagined Ridley smashing a baseball bat into Leland's spine, after discovering him belting me. I wish I could report masturbating to that comforting image of being saved by my son. I just sighed and dressed for the evening.
A text arrived on my phone, from an unknown number. "I finally bought a new phone, Leen! Give me a call." I considered Leland was playing a trick on me, but I had entered the black man's new number in my contact info, so his calls would bypass filters against unknown callers. I texted back. "What did the garage mechanic ask me?"
"I'm not sure I should text that without encryption."
Close enough. I called him. "Congratulations, George, you're living in the real world again."
"It's a strange, real world."
"You're telling me." I wished I hadn't said that.
"That tells me you aren't forgiving yourself enough, Leen."
"How are you doing on that 'work?'"
"Poorly, but I'm feeling less sorry for myself."
"Why don't we celebrate spending a bunch of money for your phone, by going out for dinner?"
"We could spend even more if we brought the kids."
"I'll read their muzzles."
I had been kidding. George wasn't. He took the ****** to a sushi restaurant! Peg was adventurous enough to try the raw nigiri. Ridley made a face and ordered tempura shrimp. My stomach churned at the thought of all that grease in my son's young stomach, but he had survived a ton of junk food on his birthday.
I ordered ebi, complete with its deep-fried, whole shell. And uni, a disgusting pile of sagging meat that looked like baby poop but when fresh, tasted unlike other delicious things.
George attempted to order fugu, hoping to outdo my sushi challenge, but I instantly shot down that notion, and our server said it wasn't available on or off the menu. He then ordered, "One of each thing that has fish eggs on it."
The variety of sushi that arrived for him didn't look all that bad. Ridley made a face but soaked up all of his dipping sauce with his deep-fried shrimp. I added a reminder on my phone to buy stomach medicine on our way home. The dinner bill was our largest ever.
Alone in our room that night, George and I hugged and kissed. I asked if he wanted to hear a story.
His sudden meekness surprised me. "You like telling them, don't you?"
"I thought you were enjoying them?"
"They're hot, but they've all been about cuckolding me."
I told a little white lie to my husband. "Um, that because-" I toyed with a lock of my hair and cast my eyes slightly down. "By telling them, they help me to cope with what I'm going through." In hindsight, I think that may have been true, but the real reason was to help him cope with my infidelity. His reactions were so far, quite positive. I took the initiative and met his gaze. "Tonight's story is about a black man. Is that going too far?"
He blinked. "That would be kinda tough, Leen, but if it helps you to process what you're going through, I would be a poor husband for not participating."
For a moment, I wondered how much my husband's previous climaxes influenced his answer, but I suspect I could have asked to snip off his toes and fingers, claim it was helping me, and he would have gladly sharpened the sheers. I kissed him again, gently and sweetly. After wonderful seconds, I pulled away smiling. "Show me your beautiful cock, Husband."
He quickly worked off his boxer briefs. His pants were already on the floor by his side of the bed. I took hold of his semi-hard penis and gently rubbed it with an open palm. "You keep it so clean and healthy." I meant it as a compliment, but that small truth felt no longer important for lovemaking. I looked forward to sucking it, though.
"You know how to handle me, Leen." He lay on his back and relaxed into the sensation of my fingers wrapping around his erecting shaft and slowly stroking. "Hmmnn."
"You know how our Prius is larger than the Volvo, but did you realize that my car's interior is larger."
"That makes sense." George lifted his head to answer and found me unbuttoning my pajama top. "Newer cars are designed with more crush space for protection.
"That's why I lure you into the back seat of my car and pull up my skirt. I'm not wearing panties, and I say, 'warm me up.'" You look up and down the street, but the night is falling, and the only person around is busy putting landscaping equipment into his old truck a few houses away.
"So you bend down between my legs and give me wonderful head! I intend to return the favor before we get fully to business, but it feels so good I beg for more. I run my fingers through your hair while my excitement grows exponentially! Soon I'm humping my pussy into your proficient mouth. The windows are partly steamed up and the old Volvo rocks slightly. 'Honey, oh, Honey!" I cry out, almost shrieking when my climax explodes!"
"Would you like some for real?" George asked, looking down at his pudgy torso, eyebrows wagging.
"I would, very much, Dear, but this story is for you." My hand moved a little faster. I gave his prick-head a long lick! He grunted, and his head dropped to his pillow again. "Suddenly, the door behind you opens swiftly. A man calls out, 'Are you okay, Ma-am!?'
"'GODS!' I curl away from him across the seat, my pussy openly glistening from your saliva. I shout, 'I'm okay, Mister! This is my husband!' You turn around until you're sitting next to the open doorway, ready to defend me.
"The man is darkly skinned, far darker than dusk in the sky. He's wearing a grass-stained, blue jumpsuit and carrying a small, sharp hand shovel - which he promptly sticks a rear pocket. He steps back, but he's mesmerized by my wet, hairy crotch.
"I throw my skirt over my knees to hide from the man's stirring eyes. 'George?' I check in with you. 'I guess, um, the man just made a mistake.' You respond without much conviction. You're still quite startled by the large but lean laborer.
"'Heh, I'm surprised I don't have a sore jaw, Mister.' The black man chuckles at you. 'You need to act faster than that, to protect your woman.'
"'George doesn't act in haste.'" I support you. "'He considers the situation before acting.'
"'Yeah, I guess that's fine and all, but if I had been a serial killer, your man would be dying from a shovel through his neck.' The stranger's respect for you noticeably diminishes.
"You stand up for yourself but shrink a little in your seat. 'I would give my life to protect her and our children.'
"'Fool, a limp, dead body, ain't much protection. You gotta act quick as a knife to stop a killer.'
"'Please! Let's stop the talk about killing.' I say loudly.
"Yes, right. Of course, little lady. Like you two love birds, I'm a man of a different kind of action.' He grins, pats his crotch once, and winks. 'Well equipped too!'"
As the sentence ends, my hand is grasping and stroking George's very hard dick. "George, you can't help but look at the bulge in the crotch of the black man's jumpsuit. You want to say more, to defend your honor and reassure me about being my protector, but the right words tangle on your tongue before you can speak them because most of your attention is noticing how the stranger's tent is growing.
"'My name's Louis Kingsley.' The man offers a large, black hand to you. You take it and immediately learn the man's profession has made his hands very strong, but he shakes yours peaceably if confidently. 'Sorry to interrupt. No hard feelings?'
"'I suppose not.' You pull your hand away from his which dwarfs yours.
"Louis frowns and speaks sternly. 'You didn't tell me your name.'
"You gulp, and I have to answer for you. 'You heard me call him George.'
"'I suppose I did, but I was talking man to man. Now I'm beginning to wonder about that.' Mr. Kingsley glares at you. 'Maybe I was talking to a pussy man.' The saliva and cunt juices on your face don't help your case.
"'I'm George Fairchild, Louis, and you need to understand that oral sex has nothing to do with masculinity. Love in all its forms rises far above gender roles.' Well, said, Husband. I give you a proud smile and sharp nod." George's incredibly stiff peter twitched in my cycling hand but was still away from climaxing.
"Louis gives a little shake of his head and looks at me. 'Does he talk like that all the time? Sheeesh. You must have a low bar for excitement.' He chuckles.
"'Please,' I don't know why I'm acting so politely. It was time for Mr. Kingsley to head back to his truck and leave us alone. What I say though is, 'Can we have our privacy?'
"Louis puts a hand to his chin instead of leaving. He glances at you but mostly looks at me, examining my figure from hair to socks. 'Let me think about that. I mean, I'm sorry I interrupted you two, but now I wonder how you gonna get what you wanted your man for. He's looking less like a horn dog and more like a slapped dog. I feel bad to deprive you of good love, Ma-am. Tell me your name.' He didn't ask."
"You start to pipe up, but he shushes you harshly. Hoping to settle the situation, I say with a slight warble. 'I'm Colleen.'
"'You're a beautiful woman, Colleen.' He privately decides something and acts as quickly as he recommends. His hand goes to your underarm and he tugs you towards him. "Colleen and I need to have a little talk, George. Let's get you in the front seat.'
"You both are on the passenger side of the car. His free hand opens the front door, and with firm urging he guides you carefully out of the back and into the front seat. 'I think you'll learn something.' He tells you before climbing in and scooting to the middle of the bench seat. His feet straddle the drive shaft cover. I can't shrink farther away from him, but he gives a warm smile that disarms me. 'Tell me the truth, Colleen. Do you think George is in any state to satisfy you at the moment?'
"Your head whips around to look at us, eyes worried about my answer."
"'My husband is a wonderful lover.' I assert.
"Louis leans closer until he's an inch from me. 'I can tell you two are soul mates, and that makes for powerful love. But you didn't answer my question. Right now, is your man ready to knock you into orbit with a hard dick and flood your pretty pussy with a gallon of cum?'
"'Your question is irrelevant, Louis. You're intimidating us. Of course, we aren't in the mood-'
"He interrupts. 'Your man certainly ain't in the mood, but don't lie to me about yours. I have been watching your eyes, your breaths. Maybe you think you're just scared, but I'm not fooled. I bet your pussy is more wet now than when Pussy Sucker stopped licking it.'
"'You're being incredibly rude.' I warn him. You chime in. 'You should go back outside and stop pestering us."
"Louis ignores you. 'You're damn right I'm foulmouthed, but I'm talking truth, Pretty Lady, and passion. Show me I'm wrong. Go on. Lift that skirt. I've already seen your sexy pussy. Another peek won't make any difference.'
"But, George, you know that it'll make all the difference, how I have to strong-willed men. You warn, 'He's goading you, Colleen. Just get out of the car.'
"Louis gives a sharp laugh! 'Now your man's talking sense, but you need something before you can go home. Two things.' He doesn't spell them out. I of course want to prove the black man wrong about his accusation. But the second 'thing' compels me to pull my skirt slowly up to my waist. 'You're wrong.' I lie. 'There's just some fluid from before you intruded, and it's mostly dried up.'
"He snorts. 'That's not what I'm talking about.' He had already proved to act quickly. Before I can close my thighs tighter, his hand dives between them, and his middle finger slips into my pussy! For his speed, he's surprisingly gentle. I suck in a breath. 'Don't!' I cry too late.
"'Get away from her, Louis. Leave us! Just go.' You sputter in the front seat across from us."
George's body, prone on my bed, was shaking from my hand's firm, pleasuring strokes. His engorged pecker had been throbbing for a while. I guessed he had a minute or less before an intense orgasm.
"Oh, Honey, I don't think I can take more." My husband's groans were unhappy but passionately aroused.
"Please, a little more, Sweetheart. Hold yourself back. It's helping." I assured George without specifying who he was helping. His erection began thrusting through my jerking grip. I resumed my tale, heading steadily to a conclusion.
"'Call me, Mr. Kingsley, Fool. And you, Woman, admit it! Your pussy is soaking my finger. Now I bet you're ready for some action.' The intruder in our car begins porking my slick cunt with his thickest, strongest finger. I gasp and feel close to tears. 'I'm sorry, George! It's happening again, and I can't help myself!' I'm begging your forgiveness as a black stranger fingers my juicing fuck hole.'
"But Louis Kingsley isn't being altruistic. He made plans the moment he first saw my wet pussy. Now, he gets up from his seat and turns his back to you. 'Unzip my suit, Fool. Let your slut wife see what a real man's dick looks like.'
"'George, I beg you!' I squeal my thoughts a tangle of fear and arousal. But you misunderstand my frantic words. I don't want you to unleash what the powerful, black man has for me in his pants. But you love me so much, you want to give Louis physical attention to me. Out of love, you unzip his blue jumpsuit to his tailbone!
"'That's a good, Cuck!' Louis growls. He pulls his finger out of my wet slit, having released a steady stream of my fuck juice, and in a flash, he shucks the workman's jumper down to his thighs. From out of his sweaty crotch, a huge black cock springs out. It's about as large as Leland's! 'Open up, you white slut! Here's what you need.'
"My mind recoils in horror when my body responds to the black stranger's demand. My left leg jams under the driver's seat, and my right one flies up and over the back of the bench. That foot jams against the rear window. The windows are dripping from our hot breaths. My pussy opens wide, and Louis is quick to grab his jutting prick and aim it down until the fat head is ready to spear into my uncontrollable body!"
"UUYAAAAA!!" George howled! His torso convulsed, and I dove my open mouth over the tip of his exploding dick before the first spurt. I abruptly sucked and drank like a pimped-out whore, cooing as he released his ball juice down my gulping throat!
Again, I marveled at the light, almost sweet salty flavor as my loving husband bucked his firm peter deep into my mouth. I only choked for a second before my experience with a much larger cock overrode my autonomic reflex.
George twitched for a while after his fountain dribbled down to nothing. I kept sucking, gently, but his peter shrank in my mouth. "Oh, Colleen. These stories, I'm starting to worry about them. I can't accept my incredible reaction.
"Sweetheart," I said upon pulling my mouth off of his limp penis. "They're just stories. But I'm glad I'm not boring you with them." A mischievous smile crossed my face. "You're just enjoying a fantasy that would never interest you in real life."
My panting husband kept strangely quiet for a while. I figured he was simply focusing on the pleasure still drifting through his senses.
I climbed up the bed and straddled his heaving belly. He smiled up at me when I took his right hand and placed its fingers on my very wet vulva. I moaned when he pushed two fingers inside and stroked my cunt walls. His thumb rubbed my clit, massaging the turgid nub in slow circles.
I bent down and kissed his lips while he worked to pleasure me. I came after a while by remembering the times he had sucked on my pussy and clit. He was not only talented but incredibly enduring. We slept arm in arm until sunrise.
...to be continued...
