Recent Miami riots are a grim reminder of the one hundred thirty thousand Cuban refugees who, fresh off the Freedom Flotilla, found America to be less than the land of milk and honey. Frustrated young men plundered and burned, venting disillusionment and the sadness of Castro's refusal to accept them back into Cuba.
To lessen the threat of another Miami disaster, the refugees have been siphoned off into scattered army bases across the states, in hopes of finding sponsors to help them acclimate themselves to the community.
But American zenophobia shows itself best when promises of welfare benefits to foreigners are whispered behind closed door meetings, and irate tax payers are reminded it is their hard earned cash that will be feeding a mouth that can't even speak English.
Such was the case in an uptight Baptist community in Kansas when four thousand five hundred refugees descended upon the army base. The town of Lawrence went beserk with paranoia.
A Nordic do-gooder by the name of Colonel Leo Nelson and his Cuban born wife Cora, courageously combatted the anti-Cuban forces led by the loquacious Mayor Dillon who was dead set against feeding illiterates who couldn't even sign a welfare check. The Federal Sponsorship Program sparked a chism between military power versus small town politics ... until the frustrated, frightened Mayor, confronted with explaining the shortage of welfare funds, resorted to violence.
Cuban Wives is the story of how Cora Nelson became the tool of Mayor Dillon's regime to starve out the Cubans. Rape, extortion, fraud .. the man would stop at nothing to drive the welfare seekers from his town. His vengeful plot, aimed at Colonel Nelson's lovely Cuban wife, unravels a story of intrigue, suspense and hot-paced action promising to titillate the spark of sadism in all of us.
CHAPTER ONE
The novelty of shuffling Bekins moving boxes from shivering New England to steaming San Antonio, and now to this Kansas prairie land, had worn thin for Cora Nelson, wife of Colonel Leo Nelson. At first the social indoctrination into rigid military protocol intrigued her, gave the Cuban born immigrant a taste of American culture in its most rigid form. Now, upon calmer reflection and two years of forwarding mail, the distinction, thought Cora with a sigh, had lost its charm.
Things might have been worse. She might have been Vietnamese like many of the lifers' wives. At least the Bay of Pigs incident no longer smelled of gun powder, though Americans still felt queasy about the Vietnamese Conflict.
Cora, a socially conscious woman who shared her husband's staunch belief in relief for the needy, had created a women's consciousness-raising group for other immigrant army wives who felt lonely and ostracized.
That accomplishment put her in the limelight on the army base. Her delicate fingers and tiny toes couldn't count the number of officer club affairs she'd hostessed or the grimances behind pot-bellied Colonels and Generals slinking their arms around her waspish waist and blowing smoke in her face. Now Cora Nelson, wife of the illustrious liberal-minded Colonel, wanted only to be a housewife.
That simple request seemed impossible with a husband like Leo. Civic minded, reform-determined, he gloried in transforming military bases into what his adversaries termed day-care centers. It added up to endless telephone calls and late night meetings.
They all have a part of Leo but me, ruminated Cora, flinging a shimmering flood of waist-length coal black wind-blown hair out of her eyes. The telephone could ring itself off the hook, but she wouldn't budge from the chaise lounge on this rare solitudinous day.
A heavy sigh broke from her throat and inhaling the warm, dry summer air, she stretched one golden leg to drape over the plastic chaise lounge on the backyard patio. She turned it slightly so the sun could peek between the satiny flesh of her slender inner thighs and tan it to an even wheat perfection of the rest of her golden flesh. The naughty little pink bikini stretched with elastic tenacity across the firm curves of her slenderly proportioned body, from the strip of a strapless top that graced low in her cleavage between the melonous half moons of her breasts where all but the rosebuds of her nipples showed through the stretchy fabric ... down to the pouting mound hugged snugly in a handsized triangular patch, dipping dangerously below her navel to nip up the thighs, allowing a few fugitive black curls to peek out around the elastic legbands.
A military man's wife? Few would guess it! None of the stiffness of army protocol froze the smile of this lovely wife, nor the weary lines crowfeeting her eyes, one for each Bekins move.
Something eternally youthful shone in Cora's pearly smile. Coal black eyes which shone with diamond limpidity, round and innocent, set wide in a small face framed with straight, glistening black hair. Five feet four and one hundred and five luscious pounds of flawless flesh covering a petite bone structure, hardly appeared twenty-five years of age. The provocative glint in her eyes and the enviable figure set the generals' and colonels' wives' tongues wagging. Some believed the Colonel had falsified her immigration papers and had married a child bride.
As she smiled up at the sun and stretched languidly on the warm, clinging plastic of the chaise lounge, her heavy breasts rose and fell with the lazy breathing of a warm Kansas summer day. She cupped a yawn.
Rare days like this, when the neighbor's children weren't fighting on the other side of the picket fence and the dishes sat drying in the drainer, Cora began to feel a sting of loneliness. As her glistening body shimmered under the sun, she turned her concerns to her husband's numerable problems in his struggle to eradicate prejudism against the four-thousand five-hundred Cuban refugees house in the Lawrence, Kansas army base.
The town was in an uproar! A big adjustment, playing mother to a camp of disillusioned, unemployed refugees it was for a town that prided itself on never having rented to a Mexican or Black. After the first month, the population had gulped down pride and backed by Baptist demands, hosted charities to raise funds for the countryless people and a massive church drive collected clothes and blankets ... all of which helped to crack the ice of zenophobia.
All but one, that is. Lawrence's Mayor Dillon was deadset against aiding "any idiot who came to America expecting to collect welfare." He managed to amass a handful of powerful county welfare administrators to add ammunition to his battle against one Colonel Leo Nelson whose appearance in Lawrence heralded one hell of a nuisance. "The welfare funds will be drained," persuaded Mayor Dillon to television reporters. 'Taxpayers are getting another swift kick in the ass," he was reported saying at the Lawrence Fourth of July celebration in the village park. "We'll end up supporting immigrants who can't even sign a welfare check!"
He hammered on the podium that sunny day, competing for attention with the Little League Softball Tournament enthusiasts. "How many of you here get food stamps?" He took a quick count while the people shyly raised their hands and the meddlesome gaped as secrets surfaced. Dillon shook a warning finger. "Add four-thousand five-hundred to that and guess who's not going to be eating steak, huh?"
The church versus state became the bottom line. Military versus small town politics became the top line. The town flew into a tizzy. Though none of the citizens, including the fund raisers, had visited the army base camp, reports spread of violence, incest, starvation, rare diseases the army doctors couldn't cure.
With military backing, Colonel Leo Nelson answered those charges of prejudism. He invited the press, the television station, the mayor himself ... no response. Threats against his life rang in the middle of the night and he'd learned to drive very carefully outside the military camp. But federal government is the big daddy, and Colonel Nelson garnered his permission to continue his cause ... putting the screws to the mayor.
And where is the Colonel now? wondered Cora, flipping over onto her back, Tuesday, wasn't it? Oh, yes, today he'd be meeting with the two town council members to sign a proposal, passed by the federal government stamp of approval, to start a program whereby the Cuban refugees would be allowed to find work.
A pricklish situation that one! The plan involved finding local sponsors for the Cuban youth who, cooped up in dreary army barracks with no pool halls or cars for backseat amours, had vented unpent energy in Florida riots. By diverting that riotous energy, the Colonel hoped to prove to Lawrence citizens that indeed, these people were hirable and that if the youth can be trusted, most certainly their parents could. "Why not hire these youth, take them under our arms and show them America's Christians welcome them!" convinced Colonel Nelson.
The word Christian was magic, for in truth, the citizens balked at the worrisome thought of welcoming foreigners into their homes. Hadn't they proven themselves God-loving by raising funds and donating old diapers? Must they come face to face?
Cora's mind buzzed with these thoughts as the sun's rays played over her oil gistening bumps and curves. The telephone rang and she was about to spring for it, when the lazier part of Cora Nelson refused. Hadn't she fulfilled her civic duties at last night's officer's party, flashing smiles she didn't feel and sitting at opposite ends of the table from Leo?
Opposite ends. Cora sighed resignedly. Would she and Leo always be separated, with the military between them? Army this, army that ... you'd think this were a communist country! Humanist that he was, Colonel Nelson was fired with ambition to climb up the ranks, and his lovely young wife was a handy tool.
"I want you to laugh at General Daily's jokes tonight, honey. You know how uptight he is when he feels ignored. "Don't be upset if I'm not hanging on your arm ... there's always later," he'd wink, straightening a metal on his crisp uniform that never showed a flick of dandruff or lint.
The promised rewards of bedded amours had a knack for evaporating into the night air. Like last night ... Cora couldn't count the nights she'd lay awake unable to sleep from the tingling frustration between her lovely, untouched thighs, a frustration from damnable abstinence, she would listen to the rustling sheets next to her warm waiting body, and hear Leo mumble in his sleep. Preening her ears for an "I love you ... "praying this would be the night to compensate for last time. Patriotism could only go so far, she'd whimper silently, hearing him mutter fragments from conversations with General Daily.
On those soul-rending nights that chomped at her female ego, Cora would punch the pillow, defeated blaming herself for lack of compassion. Something was amiss, but what? she wondered, blinking back tears that never touched her satiny cheeks. Half the women on the base would desert their beds to slip beside the handsome, blonde haired, blue-eyed Nordic Colonel. If they only knew, she sobbed. General Daily's wife probably has sex more than I do-and she's sixty-two years old!
Deep in Cora's tender soul a purl of something resembling resentment percolated and bubbled. Last night was the dead end....
Another boring party at the Officer's Club where the man dragged their wives for appearances' sake; the men smoking cigars and drinking gin up straight (on the rocks was unmanly), and the women sipping Tom Collins and whispering rumors. That military men had a penchant for foreign born women, irked the Cuban wife. Did the cigar chomping hawks think her subservient and easy prey because of her Latin blood? To add weight to the clumsiness, most of the men were husbands of women in her consciousness raising group!
When Leo had finally pried himself loose of General Daily's foul jokes, one too many drinks puddled his gullet. Alcohol and fatigue were not kind to a man's bladder.
When finally they stumbled home at twelve o'clock, smelling of cigar smoke and gin, Cora had rushed to the bedroom ahead and slipped into her black gown, a Christmas present from Leo. The dangerously dipping neckline plunged to the waist, the transparent black revealing the soft mounds of her breasts, and strawberry nipples. A drawstring nipped at her waist, and the swells of her hips and thighs made a tempting outline beneath. Her heart pounded triple time. On the ride home, Leo had toyed with her thigh and whispered epitaphs of lust second only to their wedding night. A night of good loving would calm his nerves and do wonders for her ego!
Leo had headed for his den, a wood paneled room at the end of the hall overlooking the backyard. "Don't be there all night, please?" she'd cajoled.
"No way, honey," he'd promised.
Armed with that assurance, Cora added a perfumey touch, pulled the pins from her hair to let it hang sexy and loose, the way Leo liked it, and brushed it until it shimmered. Practicing in front of the mirror, she thrust out one hip so that the gathers spread and the diaphonous fabric gave a luscious view of her fringed mound of Venus.
Cora slunk out of the bedroom, hoping to find her husband in the bathroom located next to the dressing room. She peeked in the closet, expecting to see his uniform hanging stiffly from the hangar. The two Tom Collins had worked on her, too, and second thoughts about blatantly seducing her husband brewed in her mind.
Perhaps I should be more demanding, she decided. I'm clinging to my old world values ... American women are liberated and I'm an American! A vision of his loving penis sprang lewdly into her speculative mind. He was her husband, she had the right to seduce him!
No spray of water sounded from the bathroom and, disgruntled, her tiny pink lacquered toes dug into and turned on the soft carpeted hallway, heading for Leo's den. Steeling herself for disappointment, she peeked inside. There he sat, his dress uniform jacket weighted down with brilliant stripes was draped over the back of his chair. Head bent, he scribbled something on a yellow legal pad.
"Leo!" Her tone of voice shocked herself; Cora was not a demanding wife. "I thought you were coming to bed! You promised!"
"Hi, honey." He grinned crookedly. He held up a silencing finger. "I'm almost done."
Leo lifted his head and smiled disarmingly at his wife. Wide blue eyes and a straight proud nose gave an aristocratic tilt to his tanned face. An advocate of running, he covered eight miles of army ground at six o'clock every morning. He abhored sweets, refused cigars arid only drank socially. The results were evident in his lanky, square-shouldered masculinity.
Cora's shoulders drooped in defeat. "Please...."
"Jus' a few more figures to work out, and I'll be done," he assured.
Knowing words were useless, Cora turned on her heel, the black nightgown clinging to her hip-swinging stride, and slammed shut the bedroom door. Hurt and frustration burned within her. She wanted to cry and pound her fists, but that wouldn't relieve the heavy congestion in the pit of her belly!
With a frustrated sigh, she threw herself onto the king-sized bed and pulled the covers over her Goddess body, and tried to still her heart. Times like this, she wished she smoked cigarettes, but that, being one of Leo's unfallable rules would never be. Anything injurious to one's health was automatically censored in their house. Well, damn-a. good hard screw just might be good for the health once in a while!
Minutes stretched into hours, and still no Leo. Cora blinked open one chocolate eye at the digital clock and balled up her fists. Throwing back the covers, she stomped to the wall light switch and adjusted the rheostat so that a pale yellow glow suffused the room.
When he finally stumbled into bed, she wanted to know what time it was-ammunition for tomorrow morning's complaints! Back in bed, she lay on her side, studying her berry tanned Goddess like beauty in the wall-length mirror.
Cora's critical eye studied the image of herself, wondering if Leo's lack of sexual aggression was her fault. Did he find disfavor with the full rise of her wide set breasts with the deep cleavage between the succulent mounds of tanned flesh; the way her lissome body swept into an incredibly tiny waist, with only the most gently enticing curve to break the flatness of her belly; the rich swell of her hip and ass cheeks and the fully triangle of blue-black pubic curls; and the long sweep of her slender thighs and legs, one leg drawn up higher than the other. Before marrying Leo, she had modeled in Atlanta, Georgia. She hadn't gained an ounce since marriage, so certainly he didn't think her unattractive.
But Cora was more than a Cosmopolitan cover girl. She was a woman with real feelings and real needs-like the one burning in the pit of her empty belly!
The insistent aching in Cora's fevered loins slowly fired to match the warm glow bathing her Goddess-like beauty. Shimmering blue-black hair cascaded over her tanned shoulders as she cogitated the temptation of taking on another lover. Army base grapevines had many roots and it would hurt Leo in the end. Onerous and pagan as it seemed, she would have to resort to that again.
Practice makes perfect and Cora had perfected her moves. First, she would use her hand, watching herself rubbing her own swollen vagina in the wall length mirror. If it weren't for this oneristic ritual, she swore she'd have gone crazy these past months! All she wanted to feel was the plunging hardness up inside her seeping pussy, and if that meant using her fingers, then fingers it was!
Sighing, the nearly naked woman turned on her back and cupped her ripely mature breasts in her hands, squeezing the soft flesh, teasing the puffy nipples until they throbbed into diamond chips. Her breath slowed, laboring, as her searching fingers slowly lifted the hem of her peignoir to expose the warm swells of her smooth unblemished body. Wanting this orgasm to last, she held back from contact with her pussy until it was unbearable, until she could feel the warm fluids begin to ooze from her pulsing vagina where the rich pink folds filled with blood to separate like a budding rose opening into a flower. One hand moved through the softness of her coal black curling pubic hair, barely touching, whispering over the begging, moistened cuntal slit.
"AGGGGGHHHHH!!!" she moaned, her rich lips parting with mounting desire. Her slender, lacquered fingertips danced lightly over her curl-fringed pussy, feeling the oily droplets of cuntal juice forming along her pulsating vaginal furrow. Her hands moved to the ticklishly sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, caressing their berry-hued smoothness, and lightly she scraped the velvety skin with her fingernails as her entire body began to slowly undulate on the bed, her buttocks gyrating in tiny circules of lust. She realized then that she hadn't locked the door! Her stomach knotted at the fear of Leo stumbling in to find his wife shamelessly fingering herself.
Cora's sloe eyes slitted. To hellwith him! Maybe he'd get the message!
Knees raised, her long tanned legs splayed wide, Cora finally dipped her fingers into the seething folds of her cunt. A aaahhhh! Dripping and ready ... but for something thicker than just her fingers!
Burning with desire, the long-haired beauty spread the soft, swollen flanges of her moist pussy, arching her back and thrusting her pelvis upward. She traced the delicate line of her coral-hued pussy lips with the fingers of one hand, deliberately teasing herself with flicks of her long nails. The erect bud of her clitoris was her target and slowly, tantalizingly, she rubbed the sensitive knob with a circular motion of her thumb until it throbbed with lip-biting sexual desire.
Then ... ahhhh! She stroked her fingers up and down the length of her cuntal slit, even into the crease of her tight ass cheeks until her fingertips brushed across the tiny puckered ring of her anus.
Faster her hand moved, until the female juices of her unpent passion were flowing from deep within her womb, slicking her fingers with a sticky wetness. With an abrupt movement, she shoved her long middle finger all the way up into the steaming morass of her flexing cuntal hole, feeling her tight vaginal muscle clamp her fingers, milking them.
Lord, how could Leo deny himself such pleasure!
"Ohhhhh!" the lust-incited brunette gasped, succulent lips parting. Her finger was so pathetically inadequate, so small, so slender, when what she really needed was to have her belly filled with Leo's hard cock ... and how beautiful his cock wsa, too, thick and veiny. Furiously, she clenched her teeth and began to run her stiffened finger in and out of her deprived pussy, whimpering and flailing her shimmering hair in black waves with every brutal plunging stroke.
One finger just couldn't do the job, she winced. Desperately, she plunged another up alongside her middle one, raping her well-lubricated cunt, stretching her vagina as wide as her husband's thick cock would have. It just wouldn't reach her cervix, wouldn't go deep enough into her ravenously sucking pussy to satisfy her yearnings.
Whimpering with the need to cum, she thumped her thumb against her clitoris with every thrust, bringing her to the precipice of orgasm. Desperately, she scissored her legs and rolled onto her side. She reached behind herself with her left hand and split her ass cheeks apart, exposing the tiny ring of her puckered anus to the cool air of the blowing air conditioner. Frenetically, she put the middle finger of her right hand into her mouth and swirled her tongue over it, coating it with her own hot saliva. Arching her back, she thrust her smoothly rounded buttocks outward and pressed her moistened middle finger against her resisting anus.
"Ahhhh!" Cora threw back her head and gasped as the finger stretched the stubbornly restraining sphincter muscle and popped into the wet depths of her rectum. Breathing deeply, she lay still for a moment before undulating her pelvis in a circular motion. Feeling her own finger buried in her anus was a totally new sensation for the love-deprived woman and, relentlessly she forced that finger deeper into the resisting hole, working it in and out until finally the palm of her hand slapped against her wide-splayed buttocks. Rocking her pelvis in slow back and forth motions, she screwed more savagely into her clasping vagina while her thumb thumped the tingling bud of her bloodfed clitoris. "Ahhh...." she shrilled and hearing her own screams of joy, clamped her pearly teeth over her rosy lips, frightened that Leo might hear.
In the yellow glow she watched her hand as a dim blur flashing in and out of her puckered anus and could feel her nails scraping the sensitive inner flesh of her pussy and rectal passages, but the slight pain only caused her to increase the fury and violence of her manual fucking. It roiled in her veins ... she was ... was she? ... she was cumming!"
A sea of fire spread like molten lava through her quaking belly, making her inner cunt muscles frantically clench and spurt gushes of thick, whitish cream from the lips of her burning hot vagina down over her red fingernails and insides of her slender, tanned thighs and dripped too, down the widespread crack of her spasming buttocks.
She knew she should have used a towel; her lust would stain the sheets. But the rich aroma of her satiated pussy flared in her nostrils and she just couldn't pull her fingers free for such menial cautions. Both hands plunged into her straining vagina until she could cum no more without screaming. Finally, her swollen flanges could not stand the contact any longer; the bittersweet pain of orgasm had passed and the contact of her thumb on her clitoris was too electrical to bear.
Drained, exhausted and ready for sleep, she fell on her back, breathing deeply, her black hair flooding over the pillow.
And just in time! The door cracked open and Cora heard Leo slip out of his shirt, his shoes, his socks. Had he heard her moaning behind the closed door. Did he know what she was up to? For a moment she feared he might actually want to make love to her ... and there would be explaining to do ... wouldn't that be ironic! But he tumbled exhaustedly into bed, the honorable army Colonel. Snores rumbled from his chest the second his head hit the pillow.
CHAPTER TWO
At six o'clock the alarm rang vengefully, Leo, half asleep, leapt from bed and stretched his square-shouldered body. He slept in the nude and out of the corner of one chocolate eye, his guilt-ridden wife eyed the morning erection temptingly dripping with a pearl of pre-cum.
Cagily, he read her thoughts; his eyes traveling down to the jutting pole of naked male flesh that should have been her nectar. Bitterly, she stared at his penis, but said nothing.
"Jesus, I overslept," he complained yawning, knowing that to sink his hardened penis into her neglected belly would have soothed the ruffles of frustration he'd seen flickering in her eyes of late." ... gotta hurry if I'm gonna make my eight miles."
"Leo?" She blinked at him, bracing her head on a crooked arm. "Are we ever going to make love again? I mean-"
A corner of his full mouth twitched lecherously. "Sure, you wanna give me a little head before I-"
Cora blushed as the mushroomed, purple head of his penis disappeared under cotton jockey shorts which he pulled up over his loins. She had never performed fellatio on him, although some of her female friends described it as being a sexual delicacy. Now she wondered how it would feel to bend over his hair-covered loins and draw his throbbing penis up between her soft lips and use her mouth like a vagina. I don't think my jaws would stretch that far, she thought speculatively, wondering, too, when she'd ever see his naked penis erect again.
"Bye, honey," he farewelled, bending over to tie his Addida shoe laces.
"Lot of chance you give me," she complained, dropping her head back onto the pillow in a splash of black on white.
The sexually distraught wife of Colonel Nelson had just stepped into a pair of shorts and pulled a tee shirt over her naked bosom, when the telephone made its morning intrusion into solitude. Cora eyed it as if it were a dangerous animal. Harrassing telephone calls over the Cuban refugee issue rang night and day. In a sour mood, she plucked the receiver from its cradle on the nightstand, ready to give an irate caller a proper sounding out! She was in no mood for harrassment!
"Hello!" she answered aggressively. Cheerfully, she recognized the soft, almost apologetic voice of Mayor Dillon's blonde haired wife. During the holocaust of upset following the announcement of the Cubans arrival and through the stormy days of debating over the Cubans" social welfare, ironically she and Joyce had become amicable friends. Part of their friendship, admittedly, commenced with political intentions. The citizens of Lawrence, Kansas must see that federal government and small town government worked hand in hand (though it was a blatant lie), and that animosities had dissipated.
"Oh, hello, Joyce ... great, enjoying the sun...."
Joyce, a ripe-bodied woman of thirty-eight who worked hard at maintaining once ravishing good looks, had found herself thrust into the public eye not by choice. She, like Colonel Nelson's wife, often commiserated on that turn of fate.
"It's about the Cuban refugees," began Joyce with a sigh. "I've been having a devilish time trying to find anybody who'll let any of those stup-" Here she balked, coughed nervously and amended: " ... those poor people into their homes."
Cora ignored the ethnic slur, with a sharp intake of breath and steeled herself for the predictable.
"I was wondering, I mean you being from Cuba and all, if the community would respond better if somebody from Cuba...." she said, tossing the responsibility for the unwanted 4,500 Cubans back into the damned Colonel Nelson's lap. That her husband's power had been challenged by a newcomer to the army base that caused nothing but problems in town-rapes, drunkeness, was a hard pill to swallow.
Deliberately, Cora let Joyce finish her own sentence...." H-how many teenagers would you like in your house?"
"I really have no need for a housekeeper ... Leo never eats at home...." Cora's sloe eyes flitted through the glass patio door. "Someone to sweep out the patio would be helpful ... the air's so dry here, the plants just don't grow the way they do in Atlanta...."
"Good! I knew you'd see my point, Cora," the raspy voice half-whispered, a voice which according to Lawrence grapevines belonged to an alcoholic.
Delicately setting the receiver on the yellow cradle, Cora's stomach knotted with resentment. Naturally she empathized with the refugees and naturally she wanted to help them mingle in American society ... but dammit, she snapped her fingers, why should she be made responsible for an entire town's duty?
The sun promised another scorching day and, wanting to catch an hour of its goldening light before its charring afternoon intensity, she slipped into her pink jersey bikini and preparing herself a cool Tom Collins with a sprig of mint, a habit acquired in Atlanta, she padded out to the patio and stretched languidly on the sun-warmed blue flowered chaise lounge.
Civic duties melted from her mind and when the dark, brooding eyes of a stranger glared at her through the sliding glass patio door, Cora leapt to her feet in a fright. In a moment, she recognized the tawny Latin features of the Cuban refugee who'd come to clean her patio.
She addressed him in his native tongue: "Hello, I'm Cora."
She blinked when he answered in English. "I not stupid like Americans think," he challenged, cautiously studying her Cuban features with moodiness that hinted at resentment.
Carlos was his name. Fifteen years of age, he claimed, though his eyes appeared far older, experienced, mature. Swirls of black waves covered his head, dribbling down over a tawny forehead with its liquidy eyes. A straight, almost aristocratic nose gave symmetry to his high cheek boned face and delicately chisteled jaw.
His thorough, visual examination put Cora ill at ease. Following the trail of his piercing eyes she noticed she hadn't slipped into a shirt to cover her bikini-stripped, oil-glistening near nudity. Insolently his liquidy eyes raked critically over her lissome bumps and curves. She shivered in the noonday sun.
Cora's lips parted, ready to berate him for entering the house without knocking, but fearing she might isolate the impoverished youth or that he might report her unwelcoming attitude to the Mayor, she invited him into the kitchen for a cold drink.
With dirty fingernails, he ungratefully accepted the can of coca cola and threw it down his throat. She noticed the gold Catholic medallion shimmering like a sun on his golden, naked chest; he wore his garish polyester shirt (no doubt a cast off from some Lawrence citizen) open three buttons down, hinting at a potent masculinity-like the kind that started riots in Florida! Over the rim of the cola can, she followed his intense gaze to the upthrust mounds of her breasts and, with a horrified gasp, she realized the air cooled kitchen air had puckered her puffy nipples into erotic little bumblebees. His blatant stare brought a flush of embarrassment to her face and shooting him a chastising look in desperation to gain the upper hand, she strutted toward the bedroom to slip on a shirt. To fully dress would have justified his rakish stare.
Clearing her throat, Cora stepped out into the patio, the sunshine playing like blue waves over her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck into a ponytail trailing down her rippling spine. The hem of her shirt graced the slender curves of her golden thighs. A red lacquered fingertip pointed to the dead leaves rustling about the corners of the patio against the fence. Shooting Carlos a cold, don't-try-that-again look, she said crisply: "There's a broom in the garage. I want you sweep up the dead leaves and put them in the trash can. Then you can water the plants and give them fertilizer."
As she spoke in a dogmatic voice, she let his curious look pass off as a result of poverty and poor manners. Fleetingly, she wondered how he had managed to land on American shores. Had he spent months on one of those god-awful refugee boats, 'suicide boats' as CBS news called them, witnessing the death of babies dehydrated? What right had she to critize him, came the curdling thought. I was fortunate to have been born into money and become an American citizen. What future has this unwanted soul?
Choking back hypocricy, she walked him to the garage where she pointed out the garbage can, the rake and broom. His eyes never left the golden cleavage, a hand stretch away. When he made no gesture toward carrying them back to the patio, she turned a puzzled gaze on him.
"The peoples warns us not to go touchin' Americans' stuff...."
Slowly, Cora nodded her head. "Of course." When she grabbed the rake, he quickly swept up the trash can and broom and followed her swaying buttocks toward the patio.
Cora concentrated on his low, exact voice. The adolenscent was rife with pride, a kind of self-assurance that develops in youth when the discovery of sexual beauty creeps into the consciousness and childish clumsiness gives in to methodical precaution. Idly, she wondered if he had a girlfriend and wondered, since she'd left Cuba at age sixteen, if what they say about Latin lovers is true.
Setting down the rake, she tilted her head slightly to take in his attractive swarthiness, letting her eyes trail from his golden chest with the chained medallion to the narrow waist and slender hips clad in faded denims. Had he worked in the sugar plantations, she wondered not wanting to demean his pride by asking what could be a condescending question.
He brushed past her, his forearm creating pressure on the mound of her right breast. She stiffened, unprepared for the closeness of a stranger. Agily, she sidestepped, and turned on her heel. "I'll be in the house if you need anything, Carlos."
Busying herself in the kitchen, Cora bent over, perusing the refrigerator for the makings of a tasty lunch. Gathering mayonnaise, yesterday's roast chicken, and onions in her arms, she righted herself and setting the armful on the counter, felt Carlos' eyes on her. Their eyes met for a briefing of unspoken understanding and to break the spell, she boldly confronted him.
"I'm making lunch, if you're hungry. You must be about ready for a break," she suggested, standing framed in the glass sliding door.
A faint smile brightened his moody swarthiness, adding youth to his premature manly looks. Dazzling white teeth flashing in the sunlight, he nodded, his eyes wandering over the oil-glistening swells of the aristocratic lusciousness of Colonel Nelson's wife's body. The smile on Cora's face faded into a cold glare of disapproval, before retreating to the kitchen.
As she diced the chicken and chopped up olives, scallions and fresh herbs, dumping a blob of creamy mayonnaise into the bowl, she stole sidelong glances at his Cuban profile as he swept up the leaves and dutifully deposited them in the trash can. She noted, too, his shirt draped over the picket fence and her eyes trailed progressively to the sweat sheened, nakedly golden chest decorated with the shimmering gold medallion. As he turned, her eyes lingered on the strong, square shouldered back beaded with sweat.
Blinding sunlight causing her chocolate eyes to squint into slits, she failed to notice that he'd turned to watch her eyeing him. The knife clattered to the floor and a tiny fist flew to her mouth. That insolent stare, hungry with curiosity pierced the sliding glass door to jar her consciousness out of its secure homespun niche.
Her rubicund cheeks flushed apple red when their eyes met for that fraction of a second. Quickly she retrieved the knife and kept her eyes peeled on the bowl of chicken and condiments, for fear of their eyes locking again. Her hands trembled. Now why was that? Silly wasn't it? With the back of her clammy hand, she wiped a strand of black hair from her forehead and hastily diced up the vegetables, the tip of her pink tongue determinedly protruding between her pearly teeth, as she worked on the cutting board. You'd think he was a grown man ... he's only a child, she reassured herself, stealing a peek at the golden, glistening back rippling muscularly.
She watched him carefully set the rake against the picket fence next to the broom, and picking up the full trash can with manly ease, he disappeared. Minutes later, she heard the front screen door bang shut.
She felt, rather than saw him approach her from behind. His warm breath steaming heavily over her shoulder, the animalish scent of perspiration flaring in her nostrils. Something honest in that smell, she thought, shocked at her tolerance. Normally Leo's run-inspired perspiration revolted her, especially at laundry time when dirty t-shirts hit the hot suds.
"I filled the trash can," he offered in a heavy Spanish accent. "We take break now?" He closed in on her, hot blasts of sweet breath whistling over her shoulder. "We eat after...?"
After what? the question seared in her shattered mind.
The answer came soon enough!
Then Cora's body shivered as if the temperature had dropped thirty-two degrees and she gasped aloud, fear tingling along her nerve ends. Hands, sweaty, hot hands cupped each breast, caressing, possessing ... She gulped drily, shock rippling along her spine, paralyzing her for a terrifying moment before she managed to rip his hands free.
"How dare you!" she spat, swinging around on her heel, eyes blazing accusingly into his mocking gaze. "Get your hands off me ... you...."
His lips went taut. "You filthy Cuban ... that's what you were going to say!" he challenged, stiffening.
"Nationality has nothing to do with it! I'm as Cuban as you are...!"
In answer, came a sardonic, bitter laugh. His mauling hands shot back up to her straining breasts and taunted the puffy nipples, despite her tiny fingers clawing and prying at his determined hands. "You are a hungry woman," he hissed between barred teeth sensuously: "In Cuba we plantation workers fuck in dirt!"
The passion in his voice, the deliberation of intent, steamed through the anger, leaving her to float on a cloud of unwanted sensuality ... too reminiscent of last night's torpor ... rushed through her warmed veins.
She struggled frantically against his steely grasp, but a weak-kneed fatigue she blamed on the sun seeped her energy. To insult his manly pride could be dangerous, not to mention any negative reports trailing back to the Mayor's office which could abort the carefully laid plan to help the Cubans assimilate into the community. One instance of recklessness could effect 45,499 people ... and it would be her fault!
Cagily, Carlos maneuvered around to face the dumbstruck Colonel's wife, backing her into the L-shaped corner next to the refrigerator. His hands rapidly lifted to her soft, warm breasts, squeezing, massaging, tormenting ... Cora's eyes squeezed shut, trying to shut out the sensations ricocheting around her neglected body. She felt his eyes studying her every twitch of the mouth, the fluttering of eyelids ... and he knew, damn him, he knew!
Carlos had seen that look on many a plantation whore's face, the look of white hot passion. Not love, this ... lust. Grinning, a slight ripple curling his full upper lip, he decided America had more to offer than unemployment lines! Pinning her to the counter, he tried to pull her toward him so that her chin was resting on his naked, hairless chest.
Cora resisted, pushing her tiny hands against his muscled chest and grunting feverishly. Didn't he understand she wasn't a peasant whore ... she was a married woman and responsible, in part, for the good will Lawrence Kansas bestowed upon these unfortunates? But the warmth of his palm insinuating itself under the loose flap of her shirt, probing under the tight elastic band of her bikini top, was downright cause for screaming.
She sucked in her breath. His hot sweaty hand was squeezing the bare flesh of her breast, tracing a tremulous path with strong fingers around the hardening nubs of her nipple. Her heart thudded as his fingers gave a tug and slipped the right cup over the quivering mound. Shivers chilled her as she felt the cool rush of air goosebump the tender surface. Cool flesh against hot skin ... Cora's eyelids fluttered like butterfly wings. A whine broke from her throat as he pinched the hard bud of her nipple torturously between his dirty fingernails.
With a salacious grunt, he mashed his fleshy lips to hers, flattening and spreading his lips open until his tongue jabbed deep into her throat.
"Mmmm ... aggghhhh!" she resisted, twisting and squirming to free herself.
But he held her fast, pinned her back against the countertop.
A frightened hollowness came alive in the pit of her stomach, and one tiny struggling hand fell from his muscle rippling chest to grope amongst the torn lettuce and sliced chives for the cold knife blade.
Carlos had survived the Cuban refugee boat for a reason. As Cora's slender fingers touched the safety of the knife blade when a steely hand clamped over her wrist. "Drop the knife!" he commanded and grabbing it, hurled it into the kitchen sink with a deafening smash of broken dishes!
"P-please, Carlos!" she begged, sensing the danger.
But his hands kept stroking her, moving down the length of her svelte torso, kneading the softness of her belly through the fabric of her shirt. Cora sputtered and fought, but his hands traveled down to the base of her belly, his fingers rotating against the hair-puffed mound of her vagina, teasing through her bathing suit at the narrow crevice between her legs. Cora's breath came in short gasps and the burning sensation was beginning to grow in maddening intensity. Her bikini bottoms felt soaked between her thighs and she squeezed them together to cut short the tingling sensation building.
Trapped against the countertop, his young fingers worked against her warm, pulsating cunt and, in a last gesture of resistance, she grasped his waist, but it failed to stop his manipulating hands that seemed to have a thousand fingers playing over her vulnerable flesh.
His strong fingers moved freely, pinching and teasing at her belly and the pouting mound between her legs until she thought she'd scream from the damning bolts of pleasure coursing through her veins. His touch was not gentle as Leo's. He pinched hard the rubbery tips of her breasts, charging her body with flashes of pain and pleasure. Again he mashed his flesh lips to hers, nibbling at her lips while his tongue flicked moistly in alid out of her mouth, aborting any chance of wiggling out of his clutch.
"I want to fuck you," he muttered in Cuban. He ground his bumpy pelvis against her thigh, sliding his hand around to the curve of her buttocks as if to yank her body closer to him.
"No ... no...." she moaned, bracing her hands to shove him away. Cora's fingers touched something hard and metallic and a whine of pure horror spat through her teeth as her fingers traced the outline of a knife tucked in his belt. No ... he wouldn't try to-Would he try to hurt her ... how ironic ... one Cuban knifing another!
He swept her up in his arms before she could mutter a reply, and shouldering his way through the kitchen's louvered doors, dumped her on the living room sofa like a sack of potatoes.
"Get naked!" he spat between barred teeth. "I wanna see that hot body you been flashing in front of me all day ... makin' me feel like a rapist!"
Whimpering, Cora cringed into the sofa and covered her face in her hands. She wept until the metallic whine of a zipper stung her ears and peeking through her fingers she watched her tormentor yank down his pants, pulling his underwear in one easy swoop. The jutting, golden stalk of his young penis sprang into view as if on springs. Her chocolate eyes shot toward the door and in one leap, she bolted from the sofa. But he caught her with a menacing look in his gleamy black eyes. "Don' do that again," he growled as he held her fragile arm with one muscular hand, his knuckles white with strain. "Take off your clothes!"
"N-No ... please!" But he grabbed his sher shirt by the lapel and ripped it off her shoulders, wadded it up in a ball and tossed it across the room to lay in a heap-like Cora's self respect at this moment.
Her bikini top joined the heap. He sighed in obscene appreciation as her tanned breasts burst free. Kneeling before her, he hooked his fingers in her bikini bottoms and peeled them over the smooth flare of her naked hips, down over her lovely calves to puddle at her slender ankles.
Cora shivered nakedly and crossed her arms modestly over her breasts. Those hellishly piercing eyes ... are eating me alive! God knew what this sex maddened Cuban would do if she didn't submit. Where could she run naked as the day she was born ... oh, that would make for juicy gossip, indeed!
Clenching shut her eyes and feeling them sting hotly, she bolted, her eyes springing open. The golden bodied boy had lowered to his knees and bending his head, was nibbling at the nude flesh of her belly. "Nooo!" she whined, flailing her head on the white sofa pillow. "Don't ... I...."
Instantly she arched her back, pin pricks sizzling along her nuditly as his fleshy lips moved lower toward her pubic area. Her mouth had gone dry and dry little hisses uttered a feeble resistance. Warm breath bathed her naked genitalia caressingly and his lips dropped to the black tendrils of pussy hair and, spreading the soft curls with his thumbs, he flicked his tongue snake-like into the moistness of her pussy.
The electrifying contact against the oil budy of her clitoris sent shock waves bolting through her. Sucking in her breath against the sweet agony, she closed her legs. It was female strength versus male machismo as he clamped his sweating palms on the soft insides of her thighs and pushed them apart like a roast Thanksgiving turkey. In terror and utter mortification, she struggled to close her legs, but every kick and twist brought a grunt of protest from Carlos and more bruises on the insides of her thighs.
But the physical pain was nothing compared to watching his moody black eyes leering seductively up at her through the fleshy valley of her golden cleavage. Paralyzed with guilt and fear, the Colonel's wife lay breathlessly still, helplessly watching his pink tongue lick and swathe her pussy.
The feel of his warm palms moving up along the smooth fleshed inside of her inner thighs made goosebumps raise along her spine. With his thumbs he deliciously spread open the moist lips of her cunt and blew warm air over the exposed nakedness of her cunt. For a lingering moment he stared hungrily at the rosehued flesh and a growl of appreciation, peasant-like and virile, bubbled in his throat.
"No ... ohhh God ... not that!" she moaned as his hot, moist lips clamped over the mound at the base of her smooth muscled belly. His swarthy face buried into the soft tendrils as he smothered wet, sucking kisses, while his tongue flicked teasingly at the sensitive opening. "Please ... don't," she begged in a small voice. "Leo has never-"
In shame and bittersweet agony, she moaned as he blew hot air against the tingling vaginal flesh. With a lewd grunt, he buried the ticklish length of his tongue into the warm throbbing hole. Her body spasmed, a groan escaping her chest as she ground her buttocks into the sofa, trying to pry loose his devouring mouth from her vulnerable genitals. Stars sprinkled before Cora Nelson's eyes, her eyelids fluttered and in a deep, dark corner of her mind, she mentally transformed the seductively leering Cuban features into the blonde haired Nordic good looks of Colonel Leo Nelson.
CHAPTER THREE
The trapped, shivering wife clenched her teeth and her sweaty palms gathered the soft tweed of the sofa in desperation. His tongue shot up between her open thighs, sucking noisily, licking, drawing the warm soft folds deep into his hot mouth, his tongue flicking maddeningly at the oily marble of her clitoris until she thought she would die of electrocution! In agonized disbelief, she watched as the Cuban refugee with the dirty fingernails slaved over her loins in a way Leo never had. A shock of glistening black hair hung over his swarthy forehead arid she watched his curly black eyelashes flicker.
Idly, she wondered how many young girls he'd ravaged in his time. That was one practiced tongue licking away at her genitals! A tickle of something akin to jealousy bubbled in her aristocratic veins at the thought of him giving away all that sensuality to lowly peasants when she'd been needing, crying for this kind of attention for months. But not at the hands of a Cuban refugee! her mind rebuked pridefully.
He was starved for her cuntal juices. Not since the sweetheart of the sugar plantation had sucked him off in a corner of the unburned field, groveling in the dirt, had he tasted cunt juice ... and it tasted damn good! The feel of her soft pubic hair brushing against his hot cheeks bloated his power of machismo. Her groans drove him on, working his way up and down the hair fringed split of her cunt. He wanted her to cry for it, beg for his thick cock up in that hungry belly of hers. Who the hell her husband was, he sure wasn't doing a good job of keeping his wife satisfied. Why else would she be running around the house half naked?
Guilt and horror bubbled in Cora's veins as unwanted jolts of ... yes, it was pleasure ... richocheted in her shivering body. Her nipples, she noticed with horror, had puckered up into diamond chips-just like when Leo sucks on them! Leo-Leo would put her before the deserter's firing squad for this! "Noooo ... please ... nooo...." she sobbed. "I'll give y-you money ... all ... the m-money you w-want ... I...." Her teeth were chattering from the agonizing, self-denegrading pleasure of this refugee burying his face in her married cunt!
His hands stroked and pinched and caressed the smooth flatness of her belly to grasp harshly at her breasts. When he lifted his head to swab the jewel of her navel, she nearly cried salty tears. His dirty fingernails dug into the white flesh of her breasts and pulled at her nipples as if trying to screw them off. Staring at her through the white mounds of her breasts, he smirked with victory. He knew worrien ... didn't matter if they were worked in sugar fields getting their feet dirty or laid on their backs in the sun all day, they cried for a domineering man to lick their cunts!
As if watching him defile her womb wasn't bad enough, the slurping, peasant-like sounds rising from between her silky legs brought a blush to her cheeks as she bit her lip and gallantly tried to will away the tingling maddness building in her loins. She stiffened.
He slipped his hands under her buttocks, pulling and squeezing the firm flesh as his tongue and mouth ground deeper into her seeping cunt. A hidden instinct she didn't know she possessed made her jerk her pelvis upward, giving the boy's raping tongue access to her moist hole. Without warning, he flicked the tip of his hot tongue into the tightly puckered privacy of her rectum!
"Ohhhhhehhhhh!" That animalish gesture tore a scream from her lips and she frantically screwed her buttocks down into the sofa cushion, away from that ravishing tongue probing at her most private parts. She broke out into a humiliating sweat when he chuckled lewdly at her response and stabbed deeper into the tight fleshy ring.
Cora ground down into the sofa, soft mewls of capitulation bubbling from her tightly clenched teeth. Her mind took one road, her body the other. This was adultery ... but dear God, forgive me, it feels good! At least he's not beating me ... oh, that would be terrible! I don't have to tell Leo, as long as this boy doesn't hurt me.
Her body spasmed and jerked and rose and fell and thrust and ground as the sex starved housewife arched her back and ground her seeping pussy flesh into the Cuban refugee's saliva glistening face. Her hands drifted down over her throbbing swollen breasts and fluttered over her smooth flat stomach to entwine in the greasy dark curls falling over his proud forehead to tickle her naked belly flesh. With a grunt of desperation, she pulled his head deeper into the steaming morass of her cunt.
"Uggghhhh...." grunted Carlos, flattening his nose against the bud of her clitoris and sucking babyishly. Christ, the way she was smashing his head into her genitals, air was scarce as roast beef on me refugee ship! To tease her, he slithered his thick wet tongue deeper and harder into her hot, throbbing pussy, listening to her deep grunts like some alley cat on a full moon night. His calloused, plantation-roughened hands flew wildly over her squirming nakedness, moving smoothly from the tanning oil slicking her body. He poked at her clitoris and asshole, driving her to a hysterical state of eroticisim as his tongue fucked into her like a snake digging a hole.
Dear God in heaven! Would she live through this orgasm? she wondered, sweat beading her satiny forehead, cooled by the air conditioning blowing from the vent above. Stars sprinkled before her eyes and her heels drubbed into his muscular back, pushing him closer to her as the need to cum became a painful one.
Her toes and fingers went numb and she couldn't stand one more second of his tongue electrocuting her clitoris! "It's ... I'm ... ohhhh, God ... I'm cummmmming!" Jerking and spasming against his sucking mouth, she ground her cunt against his face until his hairline blended with her black cum-slickened pussy curls.
Mouth hanging open in a silent scream of bittersweet agony, eyes clenched shut, Cora gasped out her orgasm and collapsed back down into the sofa, dropping her legs on either side of the Cuban refugee's curly head. Slowly, he pulled his head free of her genitals and smiled a cum-glistening, saliva-smeared grin.
Cora shivered, blotting out the pleasure still sizzling in her loins. At least he'd only used his tongue. The thought of a Cuban peasant's squirming male seed dripping from her ravaged cuntal lips was unbearable! She fought for composure. As the stars sprinkled and fell one by one before her eyes and blurry vision solidifed to form the striped wall paper on the living room wall, guilt and scalding tears obliterated clarity.
With an aristocratic sniffle, she braced her arms on the sofa and started to rise. Stroking back sweat matted strands of shimmering hair beaded to her forehead, her taut lips spat: "Now get out of here! How dare you!"
He started babbling viperatives in his native tongue and shoved her back on the sofa. "I'm gonna fuck the shit outta you!"
"W-what?" Her jaw fell, her head whirled from the impact of his words. Nobody had ever said anything that obscene to her-not even Leo in his foulest mood. Leo-dear God, he would be home in forty-five minutes, she wailed silently, casting a desperate glance at the Grandfather clock ticking away guilty minutes.
"But my husband...." she whispered. "Fuck your husband...."
"How can you say that after all he's done for your people?" challenged Cora, rising again and staring him in the face.
She didn't see it coming, but felt the hand slash brutally across her face. "What the hell do you know about waking up hungry in the morning and finding no work so you can feed your sister! What the hell do you know?" he screamed, livid with rage, bellowing in Cuban.
His lust contorted face screwed up tighter with evil intentions. Was it her imagination, or did his golden manhood bloat another inch from anger? He was ripe on raping her and as her eyes traveled down his broad chest and stomach to his hard jutting penis, tears spilled down her cheeks as she realized the oral rape had merely been his appetizer.
With shocks of greasy black hair spilling over his sweat beaded forehead, he glared at her through dilated pupils. "Put it in," he muttered in Cuban, debasing her where he knew it would hurt.
Cora could only blink her searing, wet eyes. Was he crazy? She'd been taunted plenty by hot blooded American males, but to have one from her own country defile her in her own house was downright humiliating.
"Never!" she spat.
Whack!
Cora's hand flew to her reddened cheek. Begging would do no good and looking into his lust-flushed face, she realized he thought her a common alleyway whore. The breath was knocked out of her as he swung one muscular leg over hers to position himself for the ultimate defilement of Cora Nelson!
The stinging slap rattled her senses and the better amongst them screamed, PUT IT IN BEFORE HE DOES YOU IN. Tremblingly, she reached down to wrap her tiny hand around his young manhood, feeling both awed and terrified by his size. Shuddering, she closed her eyes and guided the stone hard hunk of male meat into the valley of her buttocks, posing it between the swollen, bloodfed lips of her cunt. Grasping the smooth, rubbery head between her thumb and forefinger, she placed it at the edge of the moist, hair fringed hole and gasped as the first soft thrilling contact against the ragged edges of her pussy.
He grunted slavishly and began to push against her, painfully pressuring against the tight opening of her seldom-used married pussy.
"Aaaggghhh!" she groaned and the throbbing head forced its way into the moist elastic lips until Cora felt the tender flesh nearly tearing from the shredding strain. "Stop!" she yelped pathetically and, when he kept pressuring, boring into her, she sputtered up into his face in Cuban to stop pushing so damned hard! Cora's tanned legs jerked out on either side of his golden body, kicking futilely into the air. She snarled up into his taut features, a mask of peasant lust, and all hopes for freedom faded.
With low moaning grunts, he forced his penis into her pussy, filling her inch by tearing inch. Then, when his thick cock was only peeking inside the fringed hole, he threw back his head and rammed it in with all his bullish strength, sinking his young cock in until it smacked against her tender cervix. It gored into her pussy, pushing the soft, moist flesh of her cuntal walls before it until his balls smacked heavily into the crack of her naked ass.
Cora gulped dryly. Was he trying to bore it up into her intestines? She could feel his cockhead bloat and thump against her cervix and her gorgeous features wrinkled with pain from his cruel lunge. Carlos glanced down between their sex-joined bodies and saw his curly pubic hairs tangled with her black ones, the gleaming base of his glistening thick cock buried between the pink moist lips of her wide-stretched pussy.
God, he wished the guys from the Freedom Flotilla were here to see this! Carlos, the plantation worker, fucking the Colonel's wife and being paid for it, too!
And if the Mayor wasn't talking out of his ass, maybe Ricki and Juan would get a crack at her ass, too.
Cora grunted, trying to force his penis out by flexing her tight vaginal muscles; but each throb seemed only to incite him more and she felt him growing even larger inside of her. His balls were enormous, weren't they, for a boy his size, she speculated. The hairiness of his testicles brushed against her sensitive clitoris with every lunge, and there wasn't one ridge or vein that she couldn't feel. Her hungrily sucking cunt squeezed him glove-tight. Far up into her married belly burrowed that rubbery knob until it throbbed against her spongy cervix sending bolts of pleasure-pain coursing through her every vein, every ganglia.
Deliberately, Carlos throbbed the stiff rod in the steaming depths of her tight vagina, stretching the vaginal walls until the receptive tissue became accustomed to the pain as it subsided into a dull throb.
Cora's fists balled up in agony; she moaned, flailed her head, muttered undecipherable phrases as he flexed again. This was one Cuban, she realized, who'd been born fucking! God forgive her for thinking it, but he was bigger than Leo!
As he set a rhythm to his fucking, humping back and forth over her spread-eagled body, the gold medallion thumped against his chest. He had her now, watching her nostrils flairing and heard her soft grunts of pleasure filling the living room. The sofa squeaked as her pelvis began an involuntary rocking motion beneath his throbbing cock.
Instinctively, the Colonel's wife drove her buttocks upward, grinding into his pelvis, but he stayed immobile, his weight pressing her down into the sofa. She was pinned, trapped and frustration and fiery need drove her to a hysterical level of lust.
"P-please...." she pleaded.
Carlos cocked his head. Please ., . did that mean please do, or please don't? Watching her lust-contorted face lose its beauty, he read the need in her flinty eyes. Sweat trickled down his cheeks as he fought the need to unload his sperm right then. A lascivious, mendacious grin broke out over his face when she started to grind her buttocks into the sofa and squrim beneath him to taunt him out of immobility.
"Wh-why ... aren't you...." she swallowed ryly.
"What? Fucking you?" he spat.
That she wanted it as bad as he, poked through her aristocratic ego. She bit her lip, stopping herself from crying out in need.
Carlos' balls churned with cum. His dirty fingernails dug into her golden shoulders as snarling, losing patience, he shook her body until the ribbon fell from her pony tail.
"Y-yes ... I mean I...." she moaned in guilt and need, knowing she would be forever damned if she relented to this ungrateful peasant. Her weakness sickened her, but her aroused body had a stronger need. She needed relief....
With an evil snicker, Carlos levered himself in a push up position and slowly withdrew his cock until only the mushroomed head rested within the moist, glistening slit of her tender pussy. A fresh wave of red hot lust scorched within him as he felt the friction of his penis against the moist cuntal walls; he rammed forward so hard he swore he'd cracked her pelvic bone. The rubbery cock head pushed the flesh of her warm, sucked pussy before it like buttered velvet, until all of it was fucked up into her heaving belly.
Cora groaned and flashed open her wet eyes as she felt his hands clamp her trembling, sweaty ones around his biceps, in a triumphant gesture of rape. Lacquered fingertips clawed at his bulging biceps as she clung to him, riding his bucking motions in rhythm. In reward, he worked to please them both, fucking in and out with long smooth strokes. The sofa shook beneath them as Cora, grabbing onto his muscles for dear life, rose to meet each ball slamming thrust, working her buttocks higher and higher to get more of his young Cuban cock.
"Christ, you're tight!" he breathed, sweat dripping from his forehead as he drove faster and faster into her with a frenzy that sent her head banging into the sofa arm. His barred teeth showed white under a curled upper lip and his lunging hammering thrust dug him deeper into the Colonel's wife's cunt. Grabbing her shoulders to pin her flatter to the sofa, he kept her from moving until Cora thought she would go into hysterics. She strained upward, clinging to his arm's bulging muscles, heaving her belly in white hot passion, driving him deeper and deeper into her screaming body.
Was this Cora, she blinked in shock, grinding her hips and buttocks in indecent circles while a dirt finger-nailed refugee fucked into the sacred hole of cunt? "Noooo!" she screamed, feeling her second climax come raging in like a deathly tidal wave.
Carlos, too, felt his body shaking with the incipient signals of orgasm: His pulse raced, sweat poured from his forehead, facial muscles went tight, eyes bulging out of his skull. Together the two golden skinned bodies worked and thrashed against each other, smacking into each other's groins as if trying to kill each other. And Carlos began to wonder if that weren't the case. This Cuban was too much for him. She thrust upward as if her pelvic bone ran on batteries, sucking and massaging his powerful prick with secret muscles.
The breath whistled from Cora's lungs, lungs burning for air. Cries of torture, sweet wonderful torture were ripped from her soul. I'm cumming again! she thought with a combination of awe and remorse. The gigantic throbbing cock had taught her what her body was made for-to give pleasure and take it.
"Oh ... oh...." she couldn't tell him she was cumming, but he knew it. He screwed harder and higher into her seeping pussy, and with the depth of each lunge she screamed and tore her nails over his muscles, leaving red bloody streaks in testimony to his triumph. Her cum juices didn't dribble-they poured out around his fucking penis, spilling in sticky puddles on the white sofa below her churning buttocks. Her sex juices drenched his genitals as he drubbed into her with juicy strokes.
She'd cum before he did. That wasn't the way it was supposed to be, the Cuban decided, digging into her so deep his prick doubled over at the end. At last he erupted with geyser-like power, his hot thick sperm shooting deep into her stretched womb, blending with the boiling juices of her own sex. Her hot pussy walls clung to her rapist desperately, milking the jerking organ like a starving baby's mouth.
Their sweat mingled, their sex juices mingled. He fell on top of her in a heap of salty flesh. Cora's hands fluttered from his arms as he pinned her immobily to the sofa. Cora's right leg fell to the floor, her obscenely spread genitals throbbing and clinging still to his deflated penis. Her heart pounded dangerously in her chest. The sublime tension that had joined them seconds before filtered into the air, dissipating into a cloud of forgetfulness. The new territory where ventured her soul was not neutral, however.
Sanitay broke through euphoria. The delicate features strained as she screeched: "Don't you ever touch me again, you, you animal ... you filthy peasant refugee!"
His eyes glared at her as he stepped into his pants and shoes and threw the garish polyester shirt over his shoulder. As he left the house with a bloated male ego, his chest was lighter.
On the brick sidewalk leading to Colonel Nelson's front door, the clasp to Carlos' St. Christopher's chain loosened and the golden snake lay in the crab grass skirting the walkway. Mindlessly, Carlos headed back for the camp.
CHAPTER FOUR
With militaristic pomposity, Mayor Dillon strolled about the eight foot mesh fence securing the Kansas army base. The pleading hungry eyes of children and the furrowed distress shadowing the brows of men who have fought sharks, dehydration and attack by their own government, found themselves on foreign soil cooped up like a bunch of chickens and no hope for independence or employment.
On this sun bursting afternoon, the Cuban refugee children, frenetic with frustrated energy, followed the six-foot hulk of Mayor Dillon as if he were the Pied Piper. The chocolate, saucered eyes trailed curiously after the immaculately dressed authority figure who had been ordered by the federal government to assess the living conditions at Lawrence, Kansas army base and make recommendations.
Having toured the barracks where cots were lined up like so many teeth and once proud fathers draped bedsheets from the ceiling in attempts to gain a bit of privacy; and the pathetically equipped infirmary, run by a handful of interns, with its seventy-bed capacity; and the latrines with backed up sewers, rusted sinks and urine puddling the floor, he was ready to make a statement to the Lawrence Gazette reporter trailing puppyishly after him with notepad in hand.
"Would you repeat that, sir?" the reporter scratched madly, half running to keep abreast of the fast-paced mayor of Lawrence.
"I said, and you can quote me on this," boomed Mayor Dillon dictatorially, flicking a fleck of lint from his pin-striped suit sleeve, "the living conditions at Lawrence, Kansas army base are damned adequate. There's no reason for the Federal welfare department to stick its nose in our business."
The puzzled reporter eyed a pale-faced mother nursing her child, rocking back and forth and muttering depressive epitaphs in her native tongue, while the hunger swollen belly of her two-year old rubbed against her shoulder.
"But Mayor ... Colonel Nelson claims there are no medical facilities for these people, that it is our American duty to employ Cuban-speaking counselors who can help maintain the nuclear family unit...."
The Mayor halted his General Patton stride in midstep and glared at the Gazette reporter and glowered. "They made it across the Gulf, didn't they? Damned peasants are tougher 'n the rest of us!"
"But ... but, Mayor...." the reporter ran to keep abreast as the mayor charged for the exit gate, scattering children in his wake like the parting of the Red Sea. "Mayor ... Colonel Nelson claims the food supplies are running short and that the County Welfare Department is delinquent in keeping up its end of the bargain."
"Bullshit!" barked the Mayor. "I don't care what the Colonel says! You see any of 'em starving?"
"And jobs," probed the reporter tenaciously. "He claims Lawrence is unreceptive to the Federal Sponsorship Program. Any thoughts on that?"
"We're working on it...."
"Back to the Welfare Department...."
Mayor Dillon's jowled face fell slack and his step quickened. "No comment," he hissed over his shoulder, making a hasty exit through the gate as his eyes sparred with the dark, brooding Latino eyes of Carlos boring accusatively at him.
"I thought I told you to call Cora Nelson!" he bellowed in a baritone voice.
"Honey, I'm sorry ... I plum forgot ... what with the telephone ringing and me trying to find sponsors for the refugees, I just forgot!" A trembling hand reached for the glass of wine on the end table next to a sneezy ashtray brimming with cigarette butts.
"You're too damned drunk, that's what's the matter with you ... you don't have a Goddamned undamaged cell in your bubbly brain!" He shorted and paced. "I ask you to do something and you fall on your ass!"
The slump shouldered woman stroked a wave of bleached hair .out of her eyes and inhaled a puff of smoke which curled from her nostrils now. Throwing back her head, she pursed her lips and started a monologue that made Mayor Dillon yawn.
"I ... I ... didn't used to drink like this, Earl ... you know that. I was a good secretary to you ... nobody could campaign like Joyce Carruthers," she snickered bitterly. "Everything changed after the celebration party ... when I ... had too much champagne and you accused me of-of being with that alderman in the men's room and you-you hit me in the eye in front of all our party members," she sniffed righteously, grabbing the wing glass and punching out her cigarette in one synchronized motion. "You know that started it off ... and don't you deny it, Earl Dillon . ... "
"You were suckin' off Carl in the men's room and don't you deny it, woman!" he boomed, winging around on his heel. Contritely, he scratched the back of his burly neck, and said in a smaller voice, "I can't help it if the Gazette photographer just happened to come out of the can just then." He glowered at the wine glass clutched in his wife's berry red fingertips.
"I've done well, Earl," she averred, setting the empty wine glass on the end table and eyeing it desirously. "I've cut down, really I have ... I go to my AA meeting every Monday night and I...." with that admission she broke down in a loud wail shrill enough to shatter the wine glass. The Mayor turned his back and rolled his eyes at the ceiling.
He didn't want to hear his wife's sob story. He wanted to know how Cora Nelson liked her Cuban houseboy. The Mayor grunted to himself with self-satisfaction. When the Gazette got wind of the rowdy manners of 'certain' Cuban refugees who were luckily chosen for the sponsorship program, it would turn the city of Lawrence against the yellow skinned bastards and Castro would have to take the whole no-good, welfare-sucking idiots back into his Commie country! He couldn't think with Joyce wailing behind his back.
He glowered at the back of her head while he shook his own. Critically, he glared at the half-drunken woman slumped over on the sofa, her body heaving with sobs and he noted, too, the dark roots of her bleached blonde hair. Hard to believe that five years ago when he'd married her, his secretary, that efficient, prolific creature had withered into a simpering, frightened woman who had been one hell of a lay.
He snickered bitterly and turned to stare out the window. Now whenever she got horny enough to let him touch her, she had to guzzle a glass of wine first to crowbar open her cunt. Always had to have the safety of a wine glass at her elbow to stoke her courage. He'd been damned proud of her progress in drying up, and then Colonel Nelson had his asshold Federal Sponsorship Program which made her hit the bottle again.
Earl Dillon barred his teeth and spat out four letter viterperatives. So the town of Lawrence didn't think his wife was good enough to socialize with the upper echelons of this crummy hick town. They would think still worse of their Mayor when they discovered their Welfare Department didn't have enough loose change left in this fiscal year's budget to buy a bottle of aspirin! Maybe he was over his head. Damned, fucking refugees gotta screw everything up for me ... just when it was coming together so well. Earl stroked his naked chin and cogitated on the grim speculations ahead.
Brusquely, he swung around, his face livid with fury; he poked a bony finger at his wife who obediently lifted her mascara-smeared head from the sofa's wet arm and sniffled bravely. "You call Colonel Nelson's hot assed Cuban wife and tell her I'm sending out two more houseboys tomorrow, since she liked 'em so goddamned much!"
Joyce nodded stiffly, her blue eyes two liquidy pools of depression from too many dictatorial confrontations with her husband.
The Colonel's wife dolefully pulled up the satin coverlet and plumped up the pillows; she stroked the coverlet smooth, as a resolute sigh broke from her lips. Last night's horror show flitted drearily through her mind. Leo wanting to make love and she crying over a supposed headache. Now she covered her face with her tiny hands and cried from a very real pounding headache.
How could she possibly let Leo see her naked with the pinch marks dotting her breasts and the other ugly bruises polka-dotting her lovely tanned thighs? Damn that Federal Sponsorship Program anyway, Cora's lovely shoulders heaved. At least she'd done her part and hired one refugee for a day. Now the town could follow her example and take over the responsibility.
Or so she thought, until she answered the telephone.
"H-hello, Cora?"
She's half looped again, thought Cora, rolling her eyes at the ceiling as she recognized the Mayor's wife's raspy voice, deep as the mysterious life of the woman herself.
"How's yer li'l Cuban refugee yes'erday," she slurred.
"He did his work. I have to say that for him," retorted Cora crisply. "Are you calling for any special purpose, Joyce?"
Alcoholics often take impersonal remarks personally, and that's how the Mayor's wife interpreted Cora's brusqueness.
"B-but it was so nice of you t' he'p me out, Cora," sniffled Joyce.
"Don't take it personally, Joyce, if I don't have need for another houseboy today. Carlos was well mannered and I have no complaints about his performance," she pointed out emphatically, her voice chiselled with defense. But then the Colonel's wife was one bull's eye for ridicule and gossip. Better to speak well of him, then leave speculation to the wind....
"I's so har' bein' a Mayor's wife," droned on Joyce. "Lordie, I get stuck with these dirty jobs and nobody to help me." Her voice dropped to a confidential tone. "I feel like I don' have a frien' in Lawrence ... they all think I'm a drunk ... but I try, I really do, Cora."
There was a pause. Mayor Dillon hadn't married his secretary for her body alone. "You don' s'pose you could take jus' one tomorrow ... huh, Cora, honey?
Cora drew a deep sigh. "Okay, tomorrow, but after that I suggest you start calling on the church people."
"Ah, the Mayor'll be so happy!"
I'll bet he will, thought Cora, I'll just bet he will. Lord, lean't issue any complaints about these refugees or Leo will be in hot water.
"Damn Castro anyway!" hissed Cora, returning the receiver to the cradle. "I wish they'd deport the bunch of them and get them out of my hair!"
Leo would be ashamed of me if he heard me talk like that, she berated herself, and headed for the kitchen to whip up a frittata for tonight's dinner.
As she whipped the eggs into a lemony froth, the horrifying thought struck home that Carlos might have some awful social disease. "Oh, Dear God!" she wailed aloud, dropping the fork. Penicillin ... she had to get a penicillin shot just in case. How would she ever explain a festering case of syphillis to Leo? God only knew what kind of veneral diseases plantation peasants carried on them. To go to the infirmary would be watering the grapevine.
Frenetically, she rushed to the bathroom and stood before the full length mirror, inspecting her body for any bruises about her neck and shoulders that might have popped up overnight. How would she explain that to Leo? Her trembling fingertips worked at the buttons of her shirt and pulled it open to expose the full mounds of her braless bosom. No, nothing on her neck, she thought with relief, turning her head from left to right for examination. Tender pinch marks on her breasts distressed her, but a heavy coat of makeup would comoflage them just fine.
A shuffling of feet and "Honey, I'm home!" sent her flying from the bathroom to drape herself on Leo's arm.
"My, aren't we affectionate tonight?" he grinned, showing off pearly teeth in a tanned, dimpled face. "What's the occasion?"
"Us." She needed him more than ever to make love to her tonight to eradicate the guilt of yesterday's rape. The word 'rape' stuck in her throat like bad meat.
They went to bed early, and Leo had flicked on the portable color television set in their bedroom which afforded enough lumination to read a book by. Leo liked to have it on and for that reason, it became an unquestioned habit. So tonight when his towel-draped body emerged from the bathroom in anticipation of finding his wife wearing the sexy black nightgown that always made him want to come in his pants ... and he stepped into a dark room, he immediately demanded an explanation. "Cora...?"
"Yeah, honey. I'm in bed."
"Turn on the TV, will ya? I can't find my pajamas."
"You don't need pajamas, honey," her mellifluous voice whispered. "Come to me...."
"Turn it on anyway."
Cora tutted. "Oh, come on ... don't be a baby."
"I'm not being a baby ... I wanna see where I'm going!"
Him and his damn television! I hope the makeup hasn't smeared off!
"Oh, all right." Disgrunteldly, she pulled the covers up to her chin and stretched a lithe arm to flick on the television set and plopped back down in bed with the covers up to her chin.
Leo cocked his head and squinted at her. "What's the matter with you?"
"Nothing. Why?" Her eyes, big chocolate orbs, blinked up at him.
He sat on the edge of the bed, the television screen splashing white light over his muscle rippling back. "Bet you're wearing that sexy black nightie I gave you...." he commenced peeling back the covers. "Come on, let me see you in it...."
"No...." How could she refuse her husband after incessant nagging about their sexless marriage? "Turn off the TV first."
"Shy? You've got nothing to hide. I love your body, you know that!"
He kissed her, their tongues intertwining in a deep soul-kiss. His hands stroked the silkiness of her neck and explored south to the melonous mounds of bruised flesh which bore the color of infidelity. Dear God, don't let him see that bruise! she prayed, grateful Leo was one of those men who close their eyes during lovemaking.
"Ahhh...." she mewled, her nipples taut and hard, tenderly needful against his chest, while she relished in the feel of his hands roaming over the luscious curves of her slender body, dipping into the moistness of her yearning cunt, his finger tenderly stroking and stoking the fires of desire smoldering hotly from Carlos' 'rape' the day before. He thumped at her clitoris, while her hand fled to the limp tube of his penis and massaged it slowly and lovingly, letting her hand drift down every now and then to cradle the warm sac of testicles.
Minutes passed. He kissed and worked her up to a tortorous arousal, but his cock, hot in her tiny hand, refused to grow. Usually, Leo's penis would have been a cudgel in her fist, seeping with pre-ejaculatory juices and throbbing with blood, and he would have pinned her to the mattress while his eager cock flesh tore into her belly, filling her with love juice.
Not to be. The flaccid tube withered pathetically in her fist, with none of the Nelson zeal. Lying next to him, Cora ground her buttocks into the squeaking mattress, thrusting her pelvis up to meet his finger sluicing noisily in and out of her seeping pussy.
"Leo ... I want you ... I need you inside of me," she wailed pathetically, fearing she'd go stark raving mad if he didn't make her cum.
"Jesus, honey ... I'm sorry ... I guess it's this damned refugee situation that's upsetting me ... you understand, don't you?" he whispered, kissing her forehead like a good little girl deserving of praise.
"Don't let it upset you," she whined. "You spend more time being concerned about them than you do about me!" Frantically, she pumped the withered tube in her fist. "Leo, I can't stand this ... I've got to have you up in me ... I mean it!" She cajoled and pumped and stroked and breathed hot air into his ear.
For nothing.
"PLEASE, LEO!"
Leo buried his head under the pillow. Cora, sniffling from the loss of his fingers stroking in and out of her crying vagina, rolled him over almost wishing he'd see the bruises on her breasts so he'd see what a real man could do in bed!
Oh, what a horrible thing to think! Desperation set in. 'Talk to me, Leo ... maybe you should talk to Dr. Gaston."
"Don't make fun of me, honey ... I'm sorry, but I've got a lot on my mind...."
"What about me? You've got to do something to make me cum, Leo ... anything!" Cora was on the verge of tears and she cried the harder when the mocking leering brown eyes of Carlos snapped to mind. Carlos with the golden chest and fifteen year old penis that filled her belly to bursting.
Distraught with embarrassment, the Colonel flopped onto his back and rubbed the swollen lips of her pussy, his hard middle finger slipping into the dripping juices of her womb, stroking her clitoris until she whimpered out her orgasm.
CHAPTER FIVE
A miserable night it was, punching his pillow, muttering in between snores. Cora deciphered the words Dillon and welfare, followed by fifty thousand. She lay staring into the darkness, worried about his impotence. Were she a man, she could commiserate. Everyone was wallowing in depression these days. Joyce Dillon, too ... inebriated in the middle of the afternoon.
Rumor had it the pre-Dillon Joyce had the makings of a Jackie Kennedy political tool: vivacious, alert, appreciative of the arts. Now the post-Dillon Joyce was another creature altogether. Funny how a man can change you, thought Cora, speculating fearfully on the effects of forced abstinence. Poor Joyce, frightened of a tyrannical husband, carrying the cur of 'town drunk'. The pale morning light shadowed from pink to yellow as she lay feigning sleep.
The angry buzz of the digital alarm sent the Colonel flying out of bed in mid-snore; he jumped into his jogging shorts, neatly foded on the chair beside the bed, and without turning a worried face to his wife, jogged out the door.
Wearily, Cora slid out of bed, the black nightie shimmering from her golden nudity with one pull of the drawstring. With a shake of her blue black hair dancing over the bouncing orbs of her strawberry tipped breasts, she rejected the idea of telling Leo about Carlos. Only if he questioned her would she confess, and if he wanted a divorce, it wasn't her fault. It was rape, she told herself sternly, no matter if she'd cum twice-once from his sucking mouth, once from his pounding cock.
It puzzled her why Mayor Dillon was so curious about her reaction to sponsoring a Cuban refugee. Surely he harbored no plans for quoting her in the Gazette, because of course she would boost her husband's support for the federal program. Then why was he so darned curious? Dillon might be a hawkish blowhard but no ... he wasn't crazy enough to encourage the refugee boys to ... No, I'm letting my imagination run away with me.
Cora had leisured away the morning at the army base health club, hoping physical exercise might dull the tingling frustration of last night's aborted iovemaking. In the heat of the afternoon, she drove into the driveway to their home, a replica of every other white framed house with a sun porch on the tree-lined drive called 'Stripes Drive' by those who had none.
The cobblestone sidewalk was hot under her feet and each leaping step brought her closer to the coolness of her air conditioned house, wiping out precautionary habits-like locking the door.
Mayor Dillon's peculiar behavior haunting her, she stripped out of her bikini, leaving it in a pink puddle on the bathroom floor, and jumping into the shower, determined that under no circumstances would she allow today's refugees into her house. Squeezing the excess water from her conditioned hair, she stepped from the shower into a fluffy towel.
Carlos and his two Cuban buddies were making themselves at home in the Nelson's kitchen, three rooms away. Jactating to his swarthy friends about the hot-assed Colonel's wife, whispering in Cuban, he scratched his golden chest wondering if he'd lost his medallion here. Damn it, solid gold, too. Ricki, tall, lean and missing a front tooth, glared with disillusionment at the kitchen which could have been in House Beautiful.
"She Cuban, you say?"
Carlos nodded. "Every sweet-assed inch of her."
"Hmm...." Ricki glowered, feeling the prick of poverty that had been his cur. Nostrils flared with the gut wrenching hatred the poor feel toward the wealthy of the same ethnic background.
The third-Juan, a Jamacian by extract, with kinky black hair matted to his head that gave him a truculent look that would have sent the church ladies of Lawrence scurrying for safety. His dark liquid eyes glistened with the glassy effects of marijuana, sweet on his breath.
"Listen," warned Carlos. "That asshole Dillon says no blood, okay." He glared at Ricki in particular, the bad-tempered one. "Fifty bucks a piece can get us out-ta that fuckin' camp ... but we gotta be cool."
Juan licked his fleshy lips, the color of raspberries. A crooked grin showed off pearly white teeth minus one. "Hot ass, huh?" He stroked the bulge in his pants. "Man, I ain' had me no pussy since me and Carlos screwed in the latrine. Ain' no urine on this floor to get your knees wet!"
Ricki's chocolate eyes were still feasting on the fine decor. "I smell somethin' foul. Fuckin' the Colonel's wife don' seem right ta me. I mean he's a good guy, ya know? I don' trust that asshole Dillon ... he thinks we's jes' a buncha dumbshits wi'd no ed'cation."
Juan rubbed his chin. "But fifty bucks, man ... fifty bucks!"
Carlos put his finger to his lip. "Shhhh ... I hear her comin'."
Flipping the mane of her wet hair over her shoulders, Cora slipped into a pair of levis and a tee shirt, singing snatches of Madame Butterfly and headed for the kitchen for a cup of pick-me-up caffeine.
In the hallway, headed for the living room, she stopped in mid-step, the blood singing in her ears. The smell of sweating bodies stung her nostrils before she saw them.
"How did you get in my house?" she demanded, struggling to maintain an air of authority to let him know she had no intentions of going along with his roguish behavior. Her fear dilated pupils raked over the sweaty browed foreheads and naked golden chests sheening through shirts unbuttoned to the waist. Six black eyes nibbling at her self-composure, reflecting their mischievous intentions ... and all staring at her, raking their eyes up and down the svelte curves of her married flesh.
"I asked Joyce Dillon for two refugees, not three ... so one of you will have to leave," she demanded, stiffening.
The refugees looked at each other and back at the gorgeous features of one of their people-a lucky one who had obviously been born into money.
"We all been paid to work, lady," offered Carlos, the spokesman.
"Paid? By whom?" challenged Cora.
Ricki shook his head and crossed his arms over his berry brown chest. "That'd be tellin', now wouldn' it?"
Nostrils flaring, Cora's flushed cheeks burned with fear and anger. He'd raped her once and now he'd come back for more-with two foul-smelling, chipped toothed reinforcements.
She'd had enough! Stomping toward the telephone on the hallway wall, she decided Leo had to know about this.
His hand shot out and caught her wrist, just as her red fingertips touched the receiver. "Don' try makin' no calls, lady...."
Cora pivoted, wincing from his chafing grasp that twisted and stung like a rope burn. She twisted, struggled and kicked, but he held fast, cocking his head for his evil accomplices to reinforce his evil efforts. Fear like she'd never known bubbled up in Cora's stomach.
The three picked her up like a sack of potatoes and dragging her through the bedroom door, flopped her breathless, shivering body down on the mattress. I've got to call Leo! But as she elbowed her way to the edge of the mattress, groping for the bedroom phone on the nightstand, he caught her shoulders and threw her back down, pinning and holding her there with his dirty palm over her slender throat. He glared murderously down at her, his face a pagan mask of cruelty. His fleshy upper lip rippled with disdain as he breathed hotly into her face.
"Jes' cause you got bucks don' make you no better Cuban 'n us...." His hand crushed her windpipe, cutting off her air until she felt hot and dizzy. "Wha' you gotta say 'bout that?"
It hurt to do it, but she nodded in agreement. Anything to appease this young rapist! You do someone a favor and look what happens ... she thought bitterly, knowing how embarrassed and enraged Leo would be over this incident. The hand lifted from her throat and she coughed, choking.
He muttered something in Cuban to his friends who disappeared out the door, heading for the kitchen to find something tastier than beans and surplus peant butter which had been their welfare diet ... and not much of that.
Cora cringed into the bed, her eyes sparring with the deep hatred shining in his limpid orbs, a hatred for someone of their ethnicity more fortunate than he. If he was trying to make her feel guilty, it wouldn't work ... but if he wanted to terrify her, he was doing one bang-up job!
As she stared at him, his eyes left her face and roamed over the smooth, ripe curves of her body and when he barked in Cuban for her to strip naked, she complied, shivering nakedly on her marital bed, his lustful brooding eyes maintaining a vigil over her every movement.
Upper lip curling, he pinched her nipples into hardened peaks. Cora squinted shut her eyes, a tingling sensation charging fugitively from one mound of succulent flesh to the other. The sweaty palms of his raping hands cupped and massaged, drugging her with the burning of growing excitement. God, why couldn't Leo do that to her? A tortured moan escaped her parted lips as last night's frustration seethed in the pit of her belly. A clitoral orgasm relieved the pressure momentarily, but nothing could satisfy like a hard pounding cock shooting you full of creamy love.
"You think you's such hot shit jus' cause you married to a American military man ... fuckin' fascist pig ... Castro ain' no better, doin' nothin' for 'is people ... don' even wan' us back in the country," he snickered bitterly. "We bein' paid lots a money to fuck yo'r brains out ... so lay back n' enjoy."
Jagged spears of red hot pain shot through one nip-. pie to the other as he twisted and pulled and tweaked painfully at her nipples still sore from yesterday's rape. Fear biting at her heart, Cora struggled to extricate herself from the excruciating grip. Adrenalin pumping injier veins like diesel jet fuel, she managed to roll out ftom under him with a few scratches, and fly from the bed, but in mid-leap, almost before her feet touched the floor, his hands grabbed her around the waist and slapped her back on the bed.
"He said no blood, but you gonna play them kinda games...."
Keeping a wary eye on her, he stalked toward the bedroom door, locked it and snarled down at the trembling woman on the coverlet. "I got ma knife on me, and I ain' fraid a tfsin' it. I been hungry, I been poor, but I ain' been made no fool o' by no Cuban bitch!"
"No, Carlos ... please," she muttered in Cuban, trying to appeal to his nobler senses. His intent was shining redly in his eyes. Burtally, he yanked one of her slender wrists to a-corner bedpost and with quick movements knotted a strip of red and gray silk around the wood, drawing her hands so tight to the post they turned blue. Next the other wrist, while she lay staring up at him with impassive eyes. So young, so full of hatred and revenge. No chance of revolt in Cuba, not with a leader like Castro ... but why must they come to America with their vengeance! Leo was right; they needed self-respect and the only means for achieving that was through assimilating them into the community as contributing members.
Carlos sneered at her bound naked body stretched out like an animal about to be butchered.
"You won't get away with this! You forget my husband is a Colonel!" she snapped.
He responded with a snicker before backing off and pulling off his shirt,.pants, kicking off'his hand-me-down shoes two sizes too big. The absurdity hit her as she watched the garish polyester shirt, still stained from yesterday's perspiration, peel off his maturely muscled body. Raped in her own home by another Cuban whose sour fate she'd worked to sweeten.
Wildly, her eyes gazed about the room. Leo's pajamas right where he'd left them, the smell of his cologne sweet on his pillow beside her head.. Humiliation gurgled in her stomach acidly. So much of him here, but so far away! she thought with real self pity.
Her head shot to the side as Carlos' naked body shut out the sunlight bursting through the bedroom window. His long, thick cock was partially erect, but bigger, more potent than she'd remembered, with a pearl of pre-cum glistening from the slitted eye. Last night she'd cried for a potent penis ... but today rational returned with a thud ... the moment he'd slipped the first necktie around her wrist. She bit her lip, nearly drawing blood rushing from the self hatred of having wanted that angry penis gorging into her vagina ... yesterday. But today was a dark gloomy story.
The mattress lowered beside her and she knew he was positioning himself for rape. A tingle of naughty anticipation at the feel of his strength closing in on her bubbled in her loins, despite moral resolve. If he didn't kiss her, mingling his saliva with hers, she could tolerate him pounding into her pussy because that would make it objective ... like, like making myself cum, she reasoned, trying to muster up a shred of dignity as she lay stark naked and vulnerable.
One chocolate eye peeped open as he raised her head and plumped up pillows which he used as a supportive nest for her wet hair. Her chin was nearly touching her chest when the second wadded up feather pillow joined the first. Under fluttery eyelashes, she looked up into his face wreathed in bitter amusement.
Was this a new torture? "Carlos ... what ... are-are you doing?"
He smiled sarcastically with the slur of a fifteen year old's insolence, and wagged the tube of his jutting cock in her face. "Lick it," he snapped.
Cora's head flew to the side. He couldn't be serious, her mind screamed. The brown body was closing in on her and the musky scent of his genitals (when had he bathed last?) filled her nostrils with repulsion. It seemed to be growing inch by bloated inch before her unblinking eyes. In petrified disbelief, his golden body closed in on her, one strong muscled leg lifting over her cringing body as he straddled her breasts with his buttocks, knees snug into her warm armpits, the tip of his prick a tongue's reach away.
"N-nooo ... not that ... you can take me ... but don't...." she whined, tossing her head from side to side, "do that!"
He shook the blood engorged cock before her eyes and levered up on his knees as he rubbed the seeping tip over her quivering lips.
Cora closed her eyes and drew her lips into a taut line of refusal. She gasped as he grabbed her cruelly by the shoulder, gouging into her tender flesh until she cried out in real pain.
"I said open yer mouth, bitch, cunt," he spat between even white teeth. Shaking her head in misery, she let out a tortured wail as he grabbed a handful of waist length black hair, still wet from the shower, and wrapped it around his knuckles like a soft brass knuckle.
"Ohhh ... that hurts!" she whimpered babyishly.
"Open your fuckin' mouth!"
Obediently, so that he wouldn't tear her hair out by the roots, Cora let her lips part. The tensile flesh refused to relax from fear and supressed pain.
"Suck my cock...." he snarled.
Red with mortification, Cora reluctantly closed her lips around the blunt, foul-smelling purplish knob of his cock, tasting for the first time the bittersweet piquancy of the white love juices Leo used to shoot ir. to her starving womb. But it was in her mouth, dispelling the love-filled connotation. It lay in her mouth, throbbing with blood. So this is what Leo had wanted her to do to him, she thought, feeling a tremor of forbidden excitement at the strange sensation. She lay there, panti ng, struggling for breath around the pole gouging into her throat.
"I said suck!" he bellowed, whacking her across the cheek with a mobilizing blow.
Oh, God, there was no choice but to follow his orders. Yesterday he'd carried a knife ... and there were three of them. Three against one! The pungent taste of his warm semen on her tongue wasn't so digusting after her nostrils adjusted to the smell of him. Experimentally, hoping to please him in order not to suffer another bruised patch which Leo would see, she twirled her tongue over the thick, purplish head. Carlos groaned in appreciation and started muttering four letter words in Cuban.
He breathed heavily, riding her breasts, panting from the thrill of seeing this aristocrat's lips stuffed with his dirty refugee cock. Reluctantly, he drew back, withdrawing his cock from her lips and barked orders for her to lick it and keep her eyes open.
Slavishly, keeping a wary eye on him, she stared at the long, golden hunk of male flesh that rose like a snake before her fear contorted face. It was hard, rubbery, stretched skin shiny with blood. Thick veins, blueish and bulging covered it while it pulsed madly against the pearly yellow skin covering it. Between and below, his two round testicles, firm and nearly hairless, hung in their sacs, swollen and heavy with the sperm that boiled within.
Cautiously the captive Colonel's wife ran her tongue down the pole of wiggling flesh, licking dantily all around, evenly, as if it were a popsicle melting in the sun. She lavished her tongue over the stalky base, along its thick underside to the dark ridges protruding wormishly from the thick foreskin, playing, caressing it ... and totally uncertain of what she was doing.
Tied to her own marriage bed like a filthy whore ... whore ... yes, I was a whore yesterday and he's making me into a whore today, she thought, self-loathing and disgust stoking guilt as her nostrils flared from the potent muskiness of him.
Carlos trembled slightly from the sensation of her pointed tongue slaving over his proud cock. Boy, what a thrill having sex with a gorgeous, clean woman without dirt under her fingernails! "Suck ... harder," he grunted, ramming his blood engorged penis down her throat until Cora was sure she'd be sick to her stomach.
Compliantly, Cora trailed her soft pink tongue back over the rubbery hardness and ovaled her lips and slipped them gently over the smooth naked head, her head bobbing as she struggled to keep it in her mouth. Above her Carlos groaned and flicked his hips forward, sliding the rod into the warm, wet hole of her mouth and down the full length of her tongue until the tip banged brutally against the back of her throat. Panic flooded her mind as she gagged at the invasion, but she sucked, slipping her tongue up and down the stalk, nibbling softly at the base with her teeth, knowing that his groans of appreciation earned her less torture.
His upper lip curled back to expose even white teeth.
Carlos threw back his head in jubiliation and rocked his hips back and forth, fucking into her mouth as if it were just another naked cunt. Cora sucked on the hot throbbing flesh, but she could barely get a breath before he rammed it down her throat again. Her cheeks hollowed on the outstroke, bloating like balloons each time he rammed back in, grazing her tonsils as if trying to give her a tonsilectomy.
Cora, the sophisticated Colonel's wife, shivered with fear. To survive she must forget about her dear husband, the two ruffians parading freely about her house and concentrate on the girth of male meat drubbing into her mouth. If I don't please him ... God only knows what this hateful kid will do! She must let him think he's king, treat him with respect, she decided for the sake of survival. If I don't obey or belittle him, his anger will turn to murderous revenge.
To show her complete subservience to his will and to prove how powerful he was, she managed to raise her head enough to bob it up and down in rhythm to the boy's slamming thrusts into her mouth.
Carlos almost blew it when he looked down at the lovely lipstick -rimmed lips stretched tightly around the thick base of his cock; he rammed forward so hard, her head banged against the headboard. He screwed into her mouth until every last fiery inch was stuffed down her throat. He watched the tiny ridges of soft pink flesh as he pulled back from her gently sucking lips that disappeared back inside as he slid it forward until it hit the back of her throat.
A devilish sneer curled his lips as he watched her face turn red and tears spill from her eyes; he was! choking her, making her gag on his Cuban cock. The stinkin' federal government could keep their goddamned welfare-he'd take the Colonel's wife any day!
"Unnnggghhh he screamed, locking his hands hard around the back of her bobbing head, drawing it over his cock until he could see only the wet glistening black kinkiness of his pubic curls tickling her snobbish nose. He watched delightedly as his balls erupted and her throat tightened and untightened, swallowing in desperate gulps the hot, sticky fluid he was spewing into her gaping mouth. Her cheeks ballooned torturously and hollowed as she struggled to keep from drowning on the warm flooding, salty tasting sperm shooting into her mouth. She sucked closing her mind to the cleanser-like taste of the stickiness puddling in her belly as the last drop seeped from his softening penis.
At least she was alive....
Then his caramel colored prick slipped from her ravaged lips and Carlos collapsed down on the bed, exhausted from orgasm and lack of sleep. The softness of the mattress was heaven compared to the lousy army cots shoved together with no privacy. .
Cora let out a deep sigh, thankful her torture had ended and, closing her eyes, wiped the sticky threads dribbled over her lips onto her naked shoulder.
Testing the bonds, she wiggled her wrists. No use. Beside her Carlos had fallen into a snoring slumber. In two hours Leo would be coming home and then all hell would break loose. He might even murder Carlos; who could tell how a man who'd spent two years in Viet Nam would react to finding his wife tied, naked to his marriage bed!
And what about the other two refugees stalking about her house, waiting on the other side of the locked door. What had they been paid to do and who paid them? One thing for certain: It couldn't be any worse than the perversion Carlos had just subjected her to. Cora's terrified mind fled to the dark skinned one with the kinky black hair matted to his skull as if a comb hadn't been raked through the mess for six months. And the tall, lanky one missing a front tooth....
Leo....!
CHAPTER SIX
"What do ya mean she hasn't called yet?" bellowed Lawrence's mayor over the telephone into his wife's ear. "I wanna know how she liked her Cuban houseboy today ... now you gonna get off your fat ass and play mayor's wife, or do I have to teach you a lesson?"
Joyce whimpered into the phone. The bruise on her right shoulder had faded from ugly purple to atumn yellow, and to fight with Earl was the last thing she wanted. His temper was worse than a stallion stung in the ass by a bumblebee. "No, no, Earl no!"
Dillon seethed with impatience and rubbed his chin, wondering if he'd misjudged the sweet bodied Colonel's wife. Christ, maybe she's one of them masochists who likes getting roughed up....She wasn't supposed to like it, damn her! Either that or the damned Cuban took their fifty bucks and got drunk. Couldn't trust a dirty Commie....
"But, honey...." Joyce stammered in a mellifluous voice. "What's all the fuss about ... why is the welfare department being so stingy with its funds? I thought the state was matching the county penny for penny. Why ... it's as if there wasn't a nickel left in the county welfare budget!"
"Don't try playing politican, Joyce," gruffed Earl, cutting off with a deafening slam of the receiver.
Wearily, Joyce pulled the receiver from her stinging ear, wincing at his insults and dantily returned it to the cradle. What kind of life was this? She knew she was still a beautiful woman with a boxmy figure, but Earl hadn't even kissed her in months! Red fingertips clawed under the sofa and stooping over until her breasts nearly tumbled from her knit dress, she plucked the wine bottle out from under the sofa and not bothering with a glass, gurgled down a mouthful.
Tomorrow ... I'll ... I'll show Earl," she promised herself, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 'I'll throw out the case of vintage burgundy I hid in the garage and show him how strong I am. And when I'm off it for a week, I'll tell him where to stuff it....She nodded decisively, tears stinging her eyes, and gulped down a mouthful.
Depression gathered like thunderstorms ... depression and guilt, the cur of alcoholics. Why, she hadn't a friend in this dumpy, hick town to speak of ... especially after the unfortunate incident last summer at the Daughters of the American Revolution .uncheon when the president, Anna Bixby, berated the mayor for supposedly ignoring federal guidelines monitoring welfare spending. A few too many glasses of chablis and Joyce took the insult personally. Oh, she moaned to herself now, wishing she could retract that nasty temper tantrum that made her throw her full glass of burgundy in Anna's face. You'd think I were a leper the way those snobbish women ignore me on the street....
Wasn't it bad enough all of Lawrence thought her a drunken slut, without Earl bitching at her too? All this fuss about Cuban refugee sponsorships. She stared at the telephone and with a sigh, dialed Cora Nelson's number, wondering why Earl was darned concerned about her response to the refugees who were cleaning her garage now.
No answer. Joyce turned a blurry eye to the golden sunlight at three o'clock on a lovely summer day. What was she doing inside on this gorgeous day? She should be skinny dipping in the heart-shaped pool Earl had constructed for her to keep her in shape ... exercising her muscles and working off the wine adding inches to her waist line. But Lordie, when you don't make love in months, the incentive to keep in shape just isn't there.
Earl wouldn't give her a second of peace until she'd communicated with Cora, so to save herself a black eye, she might as well renege and take a ride over to Cora's. Yes, that's what she would do.
"Mmmm...." Cora squinted through heavy lidded eyes as sunlight filtered fugitively through the louvered windows. In a slumbering daze, she gazed blurrily at the digital clock which flashed two twenty-three in red letters and drowsily decided to make lunch. Lifting her head off the pillow, she started to rise. The bonds on her arms jerked her back down and she shuddered, the day's events rushing through her mind acidly. Her mouth was parched and licking her lips with the tip of her pink tongue, salty crusty globules stung her tastebuds and crystallized fear.
Revulsed with shame, she opened her eyes fearfully and focused on the leering grin of Carlos and his two drunken companions. An empty bottle of scotch littered the dresser and a half empty pint of bourbon sat beside it. The three Cuban refugees drunken orbs fastened on the naked swells of Cora's spread-eagled body. Turning her head to bury her shame in the pillow, her nostrils flared with Leo's cologne, shaming her horribly. Stop it! Stop it! Stop torturing me, she screamed silently, feeling their eyes crawl like an army of lice.
"Take a look at tha' pink cunt," she heard them laugh. Cora felt herself blushing hotly as she lay naked and unable to cover her body from their leering eyes. "Don' mind makin' money fuckin' a lady ... these 'merican men do go' it made," snickered the one with the kinky hair.
Knowing that to show fear would break her, Cora glared at him through hate-filled eyes, forgetting her vow to subservience. Fear roared through her mind, but never would she submit to such outrageous indecencies as those Carlos had heaped upon her married soul. They might win her body, but never her soul!
The lanky Jamacian strolled confidently up to the bed, and Cora squeezed shut her eyes, feeling the humiliation of his hands mauling her nudity. Great tears of self pity swelled and burst through her clenched eyes and rolled silently down her flushed cheeks. How could she live through this ... she must tell Leo, even if it meant throwing four thousand four hundred and ninety seven homeless refugees behind bars. After being used as a whore, he might not want her. Lord, he couldn't make love to her now, so what would their sex life be after he knew she'd swallowed a fifteen year old's sperm? Her imagination ran amuck as to the possibilities of what these three muscular, angry boys could do to her.
She swallowed tightly. "Get your hands off me," she snarled, blinking open her eyes to stare directly at the huge dark shadow looming over her. Never had she seen dirtier hair. Get away from me ... you filthy refugee!" she spat. "I don't know who paid you to come here, but I'll see to it you're deported ... all three of you! Lawrence doesn't want filth like you anyway!"
"Castro don' wan us ... said so ... so looks like da Colonel's wife's stuck wid three Cuban houseboys," he taunted, cold malice flinting his eyes. Calmly, he yanked off his sweaty tee shirt, keeping an eye on her as Carlos and Ricki guffawed and finished off Leo's bourbon. Cora glared arrogantly back at him, tired of being toyed with.
"You never had no Cuban cock, did ya? I be' you only fucks white cock, ain' that right?"
Wadding up his shirt and using it as a wash cloth to wipe the sweat purling down his armpits, Ricki grasped one of her full, naked thighs, pinching slowly upward to the soft, curling vee of her pussy. Cora lay in a state of shock from his vile language, but suddenly instinct took charge.
Her right leg drew back and flashed out, grazing his jaw. It startled him, more than hurt him. Before she could kick out, a huge fist, strong as a bear trap, clamped over her slender ankle, pushing it back, back until her dimpled knee was bent and levered against her chest. With an easy tug, he pulled the other foot until it hung over the side of the rumpled bed so that the swollen flanges of her cunt were open invitingly to his drunken eyes.
Cora snarled through clenched teeth, "I swear to God I'll find out who put you up to this and when I do...." She sucked in her breath sharply, "you better watch out for Colonel Nelson!"
Ricki, chomping a turkey sandwich he'd taken the liberty to put together from the delicatessen in the Nelson's refrigerator, muttered around a mouthful. "I tol' ya this wasn' smart ... we's workin' 'gainst ourselves."
Carlos sourly eyed his ungrateful buddie and grabbing the sandwich out of Ricki's hand, barked at him to shut up.
Cringing on the bed, Cora gritted her pearly teeth, her lovely features scrunched up in defiance. "We try to help you refugees out because you had faith in America. Look what we get for it! If you only knew the nights my husband tossed and turned trying to make it more comfortable for you...!"
Juan tutted and shook his head, catching smidgens of English which he spoke poorly. Her expressions he could read loud and clear.
Cora grunted from the pain searing along her tendons, but she refused to complain or beg. Not even the fear raging within her could overwhelm the revulsion she felt for these ungrateful Cubans. She must resist. At least she would have the peace of mind of that none of today's horrors would be of her own doing ... not like yesterday. She bit her lip in self-loathing.
With a grunt, Juan moved forward and quickly untied one hand from its bedpost. For a joyous moment, Cora thought he was setting her free, but with mockingly cruel power he jerked her arm to the opposite bedpost and with mirth withdrew a long black belt from his pants loops. She could see the muscles rippling beneath his gleaming dark skin as he grabbed her full white hips and flipped her over onto her stomach, holding her in place by a huge calloused palm pressing into the tender small of her back. It felt as if he were trying to disembowel her as he pressed on her kidneys. She cringed down into the mattress, small pleading sounds leaking from her mouth.
"You better learn you can' talk to no Cuban like filth!" ha spat, his upper lip curling to show off blackening teeth. "We been tol' 'merica's da lan' a milk an' honey ... and I gonna ge' me some a dat honey now...."
The belt cracided in the air revengefully, the tip biting into the left cheek of her buttocks with a sickening slap. Cora whined into the pillow from agony and kicked her legs out, arching her back.
"Time for da Colonel's wife to beg for-somethin' hot and hard," she heard him taunt.
Cora's lips refused to movfi, to consent, to beg him for mercy. The belt sang through the air again, this time stinging across her naked thighs. Again it slapped, raising red welts over the small of heY back. She spasmed, and fearful he might-have really hurt her, he stopped, watching her golden body tremble in' fear. Mayor Dillon had said no blood. Christ, maybe she was dead! Entwinfng his fingers in her hair, he lifted her head limply off the pillow and glowered into her tear-filled eyes.
Cora blinked open wetted eyes only to stare at the Jamaican's hardened cock, throbbing with lust. It out-sized Carlos' by a full inch, she thought, mixed with awe and dread. The will to fight had left her weak and vulnerable. One woman against three men was unfavorable odds no matter how you added it up.
Mayor Dillon placed a quick call to the police department, inquiring of any reports that might have been placed within the past hour or so. None wen reported. "Damn!" Earl snapped his fingers and pooched out beefy" lips. Fuckin' filthy peasants probably took off with the fifty bucks and got drunk, dir-tie Commies! One hundred and fifty smackers out of his own pocket. Rage seared his veins. Decisively, he scraped back his swivel chair, punched the intercom to inform his secretary he'd be out of the office for a couple of hours, and slipped behind the wheel of his black El Dorado heading for the army base.
Now his breath came in shallow pants, as having left his car in the space designated "For Official Cars Only", he crept down the cobblestone driveway past the mailbox with Nelson scrawled in red and, hunching down, skirted the garage wall. Every'house on base was built from the same floor plan, so he was reasonably certain the Colonel fucked his hot-assed Latino wife behind the last window on this side of the house.
Now Earl Dillon's mayoral eyes judiciously peered through the nose-level bedroom window to get a peek inside. Through the window he could hear screams, female and frightened; he grinned and licked his lips, pleased with himself for coughing up the hundred and fifty bucks to make certain Cora Nelson squawked to the press about what raping assholes the Cuban refugees were, so they'd ship the filthy mess back to that Commie Castro and quit pounding their fists for the county welfare department to cough up money to feed these ungrateful unAmericans! Just by virtue of the fact that three of them would accept a measly fifty bucks to fuck a Cuban born American proved what untrustworthy snakes they were!
On the other side of the white framed wall, Ricki ransacked the refrigerator, opening Tupperware-sealed cold cuts and assorted cheeses, taking a bite out of this and that, feeding himself with both hands while he supposedly kept watch, while Carlos went for the liquor cabinet to guzzle and slurp.
Preening his ear to the window, the Mayor's eyes bugged piggishly at the soul rending scream of Cora Nelson trying to save her life.
"DO ANYTHING YOU WANT, BUT PLEASE DON'T HIT ME ... PLEASE!" A pause, cries muffling into the pillow. Then "FUCK ME ... FUCK ME WITH YOUR CUBAN COCK...."
Damned good boys, smirked Earl. Knew I could count on 'em. He rubbed his hands together, cleaning his palms of any ill-doing, and grinning toothily peered curiously through the window for a peek at Colonel Nelson's hot-assed wife.
On her marital bed, sobbing Cora gave out one low whimper before her body went limp.
Juan stood above her. He'd made her beg and now it was time to deliver the goods. She had submitted, the arrogant bitch, and drained of resistance, she was his. His black eyes ran over her body, noting the slenderness of her proportions which lacked the fleshiness typical of mature Cuban women.
Cora stretched unmoving across the mattress, unable and afraid of stretching her pain wracked body. The slashing belt had beaten down defiance; at least she'd shown them a thread of courage. They must take her by sheer brute force.
Sweaty hands were moving over her shoulders and back, rubbing softly as if to ask forgiveness. "Take a good look at ma black cock 'cause it's gonna be rammed up yo'r Cuban belly...."
Wearily, she raised her head and stared at the chocolate brown hunk of young flesh he brandished over her head. It glistened like polished stone. Her brown eyes traced a slow path up his muscle rippling body to his grinning face sheened with sweat. Futilely, her eyes pleaded for mercy, but in its place triumph and blazing lust shone.
"Nice, ain' it?"
She gasped for breath, but nothing intelligible came out.
"Huh?" he snarled.
"Yes...." she squeezed back a tear. "It-it's beautiful," she faltered through fear and humiliation, her tremulous voice music to Mayor Dillon's ears.
Cora's head dropped leadenly back on the bed, just as laughter from the doorway stung her ears. She gulped. Carlos and the other one ... now there were three to maime and torture her ravaged body.
They made obscene jokes in Cuban, snatches of which she heard; the remainder she closed her ears to. They talked about her as if she were an alleycat begging to be fucked. If only Leo ... no, he wouldn't be home for another three hours and three hours with three hate-filled Cuban refugees could be a deadly long time!
Her body spasmed then as a body dropped to the mattress beside her. Here it comes ... She shivered from the touch of a warm body rolling against the length of her shuddering back. One chocolate eye peeked open to see someone's hands untying the knotted neckties that bound her to the bed slavishly. Of course she wouldn't run now, they had her pinned and the belt thrashing had drained her of the strength or will to fight. Hands, roughly calloused hands, were slowly forcing her knees apart.
Cora fought to clamp her legs shut, but their tougher, younger strength won, and in a flash of bitterness she realized the boys raping her were Cuban just as herself. That hurt.
Now the one lying beside her rolled over and rolled between her shapely thighs as they were stretched out wide across the coverlet, until her toes hung on either side of the rumpled bedclothes. A tiny moan bubbled from her laxly parted lips, bleeding from self-abuse as she felt the rubbery warmth of an erect male organ pressing into the soft flesh of her quivering thigh, just below her cuntal lips.
Juan wiggled forward, wedging the hunk of dark flesh along the vulnerable crevice of her ass cheeks. In silent protest, Cora desperately writhed her hips to free herself, but to no avail.
"Get up on yo' knees," the voice boomed in slurred English.
It was the dark one with the rotten teeth and filthy hair, she realized, and the hard pressure at the bottom of her spine was his bib cock and she knew, too, that he wanted to fuck her from behind-like a dog. Hot streams of anger and mortification rolled down her cheeks.
Powerfully, he gripped her hips, pulling them up from the bed, another hand firmly behind her neck to keep her breasts and face down on the mattress. She groaned in humiliation at the thought of her full-mooned buttocks waving high in the air, offering her moist, warm cuntal hole to this diseased animal!
Behind her, Juan stared at the perfect white ass and for a few agonizing moments, he scraped his hot cudgel within the warm valley of her buttocks, grinding and squeezing the trembling flesh to form a warm, luscious pocket of flesh to masturbate in. Slowly, then, he moved back and gently slid his fingers down to the thin red folds of her pussy, softly caressing the delicate tissues with a gentility that shocked her. Already he could feel an oily moisture wetting the soft insides of her thighs as she let her backside slip wider apart.
True, the Colonel's wife fought to hold back a moan that rumbled from deep within her sex-starved soul. The lessening of the pain, the unexpected tender touch of Juan's touch, and her own fatigue plotted against her to weaken defenses. Despite the ugliness of her plight, she felt a searing hot flame lick at her bowels while devilish pinpricks of desire oozed from her perspiring flesh, following the trail of Juan's fingers teasing up between her quivering thighs. His raspish breathing hissed in her ears and Carlos' salacious laughter as he drained a pint of Jack Daniels.
Proudly Juan ran his middle finger all the way into the depths of her cunt. Cora bolted, protesting the sudden intrusion and the ragged hangnail boring into the tender innards of her vagina. He fucked deeper, smiling wider as she responded and screwed back on his hand with a sigh of resignation.
I have to pretend I want it ... defiance doesn't work with these animals! Closing her eyes to shut out the ugly reality, she fooled herself into thinking that was Leo, her dear Leo, boring into his wife's cunt. A t least I should get some pleasure out of this torture! she reasoned bitterly, knowing these boys were one thousand percent more potent than her ailing husband!
Her breath came in short pants as he slipped his bony finger in and out of her jerking buttocks. Cora Nelson would never have attributed raw lustful desire to the muscles deep within her belly milking at his finger ... or the cries that lowered into one continuous moan as Juan withdrew his finger from the sucking depths of her warmly seeping hole and began massaging her. hard throbbing clitoris. Teasing at it thumpingly, he watched her buttocks churn, egging him on.
Cora chewed on her lip, tasting blood. God help me ... I'm ... I'm going to cum! Against her will, she sensed her cunt flower wider until warm honeyed love juices trickled down the insides of her golden, creamy thighs.
Juan grinned and licked his lips. He moved snugly up against her, pressing his cock into the split of her buttocks, relishing in the warm friction created by naked contact. He ground his hips into her wet .and glistening ass cheeks, making his cock tingle and ache with expectancy.
"Hey, man, watch this!" she heard Juan mutter.
"Man, you better be makin' it fast ... we all gottE. get a crack at tha' ass!" protested Carlos from the sidelines.
Juan knelt behind her, the fat swollen head of his seeping cock pressing against the tight, elastic opening of her pussy. Cora felt it begin a slow prodding and working against the warm, soft folds, parting then', and forcing its way past the ring of warm flesh open ing onto the treasure of her married womb.
"Unnnggghh...." she gasped, feeling the tendei lips of her vagina being stretched wide as he thrust into her, taking her by surprise, clearing her mind of the fear-heavy daze hovering terrifyingly over her since the first snap of the belt. Now her body spasmed and her cuntal walls throbbed and burned from the size oi his penis drubbing up into her quivering belly.
The degradation stuck in her throat like bad meat ... held captive on her marital bed with two salty-bodied refugees holding her down while their friend fucked her from behind. What choice had she?
Unwanted thrills of devilish excitation shuddered through her body as she realized this was her punishment for committing adultery with Carlos, and that had branded her as an easy target for more abuse. She must accept that damnation, she decided, undulating her buttocks in circles in rhythm to the long, thick cock fucking up into her seeping pussy.
Tears of shame stung her eyes, but Cora pressured back, hoping that might hold him in place. Not to be. He lunged into her again, forcing another inch of rubbery flesh into her vagina. He's not even in yet, she realized, clenching her buttocks muscles together to keep him from boring up into her intestines and pulverizing her.
"Please ... cum now ... please...."
"Ain" ready.,. no, man," grunted Juan. Her wiggling incited him, and he rammed forward until his bloated cock head slammed into her tender cervix and his balls slammed down against her throbbing clitoris.
Gawd ... why can't this be Leo? It was candy to a starving child.
It felt as if her buttocks were being ripped apart, but that sawing hunk of flesh kept fucking deep into her. Then she felt someone's hand softly stroking the white globes of her quivering buttocks. More hands kneaded and squeezed at her melonous breasts, nipping at her nipples until they became little bumblebees of joy, buzzing with excitation. Inside her belly, the cock flexed like a clenching fist, stretching and soothing her ravished cunt as gradually the size of him became a pleasure.
A hand coursed along her spine, following the bony ridges down to the split of her ass where, without warning, a finger dug deep into the buttery depths of her rectum.
"AAAAAGGGGHHHH...!" she groaned in real pain, before rationale, dictated that relaxing the muscles would eliminate the pain. It did ... and a strangely forbidden new kind of pleasure-pain rattled through her captive body. I deserve to be hurt, she reminded herself dully, her body spasming from Juan's deep thrusts boring into her exposed cunt.
With long, practiced strokes Juan bored into her, feeling power ripple through him as he held her hips down in total subjection to the rock hard penis skewering into her. The soft, fleshy ridges deep inside her widened willingly for his cock. That stinking army base camp was hell, but if he could get fifty bucks for stickin' it to the Colonel's wife ... America wasn't such a bad place. They call it 'qual opp 'tunity.
He stretched the quivering moons of her buttocks wide as they would go, watching the pink folds of wet glistening flesh cling tightly around his stalk of flesh. In the crevice of her ass, Carlos ground his twisting finger deeper, circling and expanding her anal hole.
And Ricki had shed doubt and joined in the fray, sitting on the edge of the bed munching a sandwich with one hand while the other mauled Cora's flawless breast flesh. With every lunge, Juan thundered into her, bursting and growing inside her belly, flinging Cora's wet hair against Ricki's thighs.
With pagan fervor, Juan fucked into her, his cock growing from the sight of his buddies' hands mauling at her every sensual inch of naked, shivering flesh. Her breath came in one long sigh, her face turned sideways on the pillow to facilitate breathing. Her face was scrunched up with passion, cries of pleasure-pain hissing through clenched teeth.
Ricki, gulping down the last of his sandwich, forgot about Colonel Nelson's humanistic intents and went for his wife, bellowing up at Juan: "Hey, I gonna get 'er from the front, ya know?"
Cora sensed a movement around her head and felt the mattress dropping in front of her as a heavy weight descended upon it. Strong hands lifted her shoulders until she rested on her hands and knees and then something spongy and wet pressed against her parted lips. Her eyes flew opan and a long, hard golden cock nestled in fleecy pubic curls dangled in front of her face. She gazed up into the boy's face, recognized it as the toothless one, and then a hard lunge from Juan drove her forward, her lips slipping over the cock in front of her.
Ricki knelt nakedly on the bed in front of her, grunting, gasping, then as he poked his fingers in her ears and cupping her head in his palms, rammed his cock into her mouth. The rubbery bluntness of the bloated head sliding the length of her ticklish tongue, lifted her concentration from the delirious fucking boring into her belly. Lordie, now there were two of them ... naked flesh in back, naked flesh in front!
Leo ... Llleooo!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Outside the Nelson's bedroom window, the sun burst in a cloudless, Kansas sky ... inside the Colonel's wife's sweat glistening body burst with one penis drubbing into her vagina and one sawing into her mouth.
Cora gagged as Ricki's cock rammed half way down her throat, creating a strange mixture of Ricki's cock juices and her own drooling saliva. Her cheeks puffed as he shoved forward, cramming his burgeoning maledom past her tonsils, keeping a drum beat pace with the cock fucking into her from behind.
Ricki's hairy testicles bounced against her dimpled chin and the odor of boy sweat and sexual juices filled her nostrils with a constant reminder of her rape.
The tide began rising in the pit of her belly ... and the helplessness of her plight thundered in her brain. Two wildly raping boys were using her body for their own perverted juvenile pleasures. Could she help it if Leo hadn't been keeping up his end of the marital bargain? She could live with 'the rich or for poor' part of the vow, but where that that sanctified document state a woman had to deny herself sex?
She wanted them to cum, knew that would end this physical and metal torture; wanted them to shoot their young sperm into her womb and mouth. Yes, she wanted to swallow their cum and feel it trickling in sticky rivers down her thighs. Sucking and fucking like a mechanical doll running down its batteries, she felt her own orgasm building ... and knew she had to cum, too!
The cock sawing into her pussy inflated and erupted, spewing white hot streams into her clasping belly. Cora's love juices gushed too, and she groaned and thrashed, moaned and sputtered around Ricki's cock while Carlos' stormed into her cervix. In front, Ricki crushed his loins into her reddened face, sinking the length of his golden cock down to the smelly, hairy pubic fleece into her gagging throat. A soul searing groan shattered the air and tears stung her eyes as Cora's mouth was flooded with hot, thick liquid. She gulped down the sweet, salty taste, tears rolling down her satiny cheeks.
Often the elimination of choice eliminates responsibility for action as well, and that's precisely what happened to Cora Nelson as the two spewing pe-nises became her existence. Her own wildly quivering body shuddered and spasmed as the still warm droplets of Ricki's cum dribbled from the corners of her ravaged mouth as he collapsed in front of her and his limp cock slithered wetly from her still sucking mouth.
Weakened from orgasm and fear, Cora collapsed to the bed as Juan's cock slipped limply from her ravished pussy and gushes of air rushed to cool the unplugged hole. Cora lay panting in utter exhaustion praying the refugees would leave her to her own shame, when one chocolate eye peeped through the swollen lid to see Carlos stroking his swollen boyish penis.
"No ... I've ... I've had enough ... please ... you've had your fun," she begged, her drying, uncombed hair clinging to her perspiring forehead and her apple cheeks riper from the exertion of an hour's debauchery.
But Carlos' animal instincts were preened for survival and cognizant of the punishment for rape, he wasn't about to take unnecessary risks. Instinct told him they had company. Cora followed the direction of his piercing gaze as it led toward the doorway.
A lump of fear stuck in Cora's throat. Don't let it be Leo! No, the heavy breathing definitely belonged to someone not in the military. Leo's law and order mentality wouldn't balk at the doorjam!
The intruder in the hallway froze, plastering herself to the hallway as the grunts and groans of tortured lovemaking died in her ears. Dizzy with drink and rising passions, she gulped, eyes stinging with shame as Ricki sauntered quietly to the doorway, the sticky tube of his penis wagging between skinny, hairy thighs.
He returned the victor, dragging behind him the terrified intruder.
Cora's eyes saucered and humiliation rippled along her spine.
"JOYCE!" she gulped, raising her cum-splattered face from the bed smelling of sex juices.
Of the four startled, bewildered people, none was more shocked than Mayor Dillon who, up on alligator shoed tiptoes, gaped slack-jawed through the window at the ashen face of his inebriated wife.
Perhaps the wine warming her stomach had worked on her defenses, numbing the safety valves of the defense machine. The black El Dorado with MAYOR printed on the white license plate, parked in the Official Parking Lot should have alerted her; and the Nelson's front door left wide open should have rattled her senses, if the uncharacteristic mess in the kitchen didn't.
She had pulled up outside the Nelson's house, expecting to be greeted at the door by Cora's predictably smiling face ... instead of muffled distress signals from somewhere in back of the house. Frightened, she'd whispered out Cora's name and hearing no reply, had investigated the mysterious sounds from beyond.
Now Joyce stared in fascinated horror at the three naked, hard muscled refugees and Cora Nelson's spread-eagled body laying on the rumpled bed. A moment ago, she'd caught them in the throes of one righteous menage a trois, something she hadn't experienced since she slipped the Mayor's ring on her finger ... the day her vagina seemed to have frozen up for good.
She had witnesssed the respectable Colonel's wife kneeling on her hands and knees while two boys using her mouth and cunt stroked her to orgasm, while a third jabbed his middle finger up the brown button of her anus! How lucky could one woman get! had been her green-eyed reaction. Lordie, to feel a man (just one) pumping into her like that, filling her belly and making her feel like a woman!
A thunderstorm of sensation clouded her wine-sodden senses and, instead of retreating, she'd moved back into the hallway and slipping one hand under her dress, had tried to stroke the oily nub of her clitoris to orgasm. Blonde head pressed tight to the wall, knees bent to facilitate the red lacquered fingertip dipping into the crying hole of her cunt, Ricki had discovered her compromising posture.
Now, blushing in humiliation before three naked boys and Cora, of all people, once more Lawrence had cause to gossip about the Mayor's hussy wife! Fear caught in her throat.
Ricki, his trust of Mayor D'illon eroded further by the discovery, thrust the new captive forward and grabbed the hem of her dress, pulling it up over Joyce's swelling thighs to show off the roll of panties and panty hose straddling the Mayor's wife's knees. "She been fuckin' herself back there," he grinned.
"Don' the Mayor gives ya none?" jibed Juan, popping his sweat shiny body up on one elbow.
A corner of Joyce's reddened lips curled in a hesitant smile. Wordlessly, she stood frozen in place, not certain she even wanted to escape from what could be one promising afternoon. How long now had-it been since she'd been really satisfied by anything but her finger? The smell of sex, steaming in the air, was like food to a starving refugee. Her body raged with lust she knew Earl would never put out.
"Joyce ... help me!" burst Cora, her naked body rippling with shame. "These refugees ... they ... they've raped me...!" she cried.
Juan tutted tauntingly down at her and shook his head. "I ain' hear'd you complain none ... you don' want it, gib some ta da Mayor's wife."
Inwardly, Joyce shivered in acquiesence. Cuban refugee cock? That was all right with her! She thought dramatically. I need sex! that's why I drink so much ... if only Earl understood that!
Had Earl anything to do with this rape? wondered the Mayor's wife, fleetingly, not wanting to waste time on speculation when the real, pulsing cocks of three virile boys made tastey past time.
"Man ... les' get the Colonel's wife and da Mayor's suckin' each other off...." blurted out Juan, the hellbent instigator of the Freedom Flotilla ravishers.
Joyce stared into the youth's eyes, certain she hadn't heard correctly. Her mascared eyelashes blinked as her blue eyes moved to Cora's face. "No ... I've never ... no...." she wrung her hands. "Not with Colonel Nelson's wife ... not Cora!" The women's eyes sparred in commiserating despair. "Cora ... we can't ... I mean ... don't think I don't care for you, honey ... but I...."
Cora's mouth trembled as she whimpered "They beat me with a belt, Joyce ... because I wouldn't do as they said ... we'd better."
Joyce gulped and nodded, her eyes trailing over the ivory flesh of Cora's thighs and backside still carrying pale red traces of what must have been one horrible beating. A whipping ... with a belt? Joyce shuddered. She knew how it felt to be beaten by a man. Slowly, as if in some kind of trance, she reached behind her and yanked down the zipper of her dress. Slipping the garment off her shoulders, she let it drop to the carpeted floor, careless of letting Cora see the humiliating bruise splotching her right arm. She wore only panty hose, panties and a bra.
The boys in the room gasped at the creamy, white swells of the Mayor's wife's nakedness. Compared to the Colonel's wife's thin, golden nudity, Joyce's fleshiness made tantalizing contrast.
Joyce's flesh was so creamy you wanted to lick it. Her reputedly heavy breasts were just that-overflowing the scanty lace brassiere she wore above her full Hellinistic proportioned hips and thighs. Even Cora lifted her head in amazement at the marbly flesh that contrasted so sharply with the dark brown thatch of her pubic hair that contrasted starkly with the bleached blonde hair haloing her lovely face. Cora's body still shivered from orgasm of a three-way rape, and now her sympathies went out to the humiliated Mayor's wife. Her eyes fell on the bruise and knew Joyce was a victim of marital abuse. That saddened her deeply and not wanting the goodhearted woman to suffer the physical abuses she had at the hands of these riotous refugees, she crooked a finger at her captive lover-to-be.
"Let me help you with your bra," she whispered throatily.
The Mayor's wife balked for a moment, then strode reluctantly over to stand beside the bed where Cora slowly rose and with effort, stood beside the taller woman, her eyes roving with female curiosity over the full rounded body, perfumey and clean.
I have to make it easy for poor Joyce ... living witha tyrant like Earl ... obviously he beats her! She winced at the yellowing bruise with its smaller companion on the underside of her fleshy arm. Trembling fingers worked at the clasps of Joyce's lacy brassiere, gently pulling the garment away from her shoulders. Cora dropped the flimsy lace underthing to the floor, then tantatively reached out to touch the goosebumped pale, gleaming skin of Joyce's breasts. They jutted from the woman's body like ripe melons, their large, puffy nipples the ruddy beige color of fawn's skin.
No one was more shocked than the Mayor himself as he watched with mixed horror and fascination the blatantly sexual attack on his wife's shivering flesh by the Colonel's wife whose fingers traced a trembling path to the smoothness of his wife's back to unfasten her brassiere.
Never having seen two women make physical contact-except to fight over a dead chicken in the dirt-floored shanties the Cubans called home back in Castro's land-Juan grew impatient. "Suck each other ... kiss 'er tits, woman!" To show he meant business, he groped for the belt lying like a dead snake on the bedroom floor.
The women winced, cringing with threats. Cora gulped down pride and obediently reached out a trembling finger to trace the swell of Joyce's firm breasts, circling and finally coming to rest on the sensitive tips.
Cora felt a strange arousal at her own bravery. Again, what choice had she? Perform their sexual perversions or be beaten? Boldly she gazed into Joyce's face to see the effect of her tentative caresses as she squeezed and pinched the rosy areolas into titillating diamond chips. Joyce's eyelids fluttered in ecstatic rapture as beneath Cora's busy fingers the soft flesh tightened ticklishly.
Earl watched in horror as the smile grew on '..is wife's lust-contorted face. What kind of cheating bitch was she? She shivered with disgust every time he lay a finger on her drunken body ... but she obviously felt no repulsion at letting another bitch squeeze her tits.
His fists balled up with rage. The bitch would get it tonight! What alternative did she leave him ... but to belt her around a bit? A man couldn't take that kind of neglect and still be a man!
Cora slipped her hands down the Mayor's wife's belly and began to tug at the roll of her panty hose and panties straddling her knees. As she bent down to gently roll the wad over Joyce's legs, her fevered cheeks brushed against the dark brown patch of Joyce's bushy pubic curls. A moan of ecstasy rumbled from Joyce's throat ... something far better than listening to her cry from the sting of Juan's belt, decided Cora.
"We have to do as they say ... please understand, Joyce," pleaded Cora, dissolving guilt.
The trio of refugees stared with disbelieving eyes at the sight of the Mayor's wife rippling with lust from the gentle touch of the Colonel's wife's cajoling touch. Ricki stroked his naked cock and moaned in frustration, as did Carlos who knew his turn was next.
Cora's ragged breathing broke through the stillness of the Kansas scorching afternoon as she slid Joyce's panties down over her rounded hips and thighs, gently lifting one ankle then to help Joyce step free. Carelessly, she tossed away the panties, then crouched beside her; caressively, she wound her arms around Joyce's legs before slowly running her palms up the in-sides of the woman's silken thighs. Above her, Joyce trembled and groaned in the agony of twisted emotions.
"No ... don't do th-this for my sake, honey," she cooed, reaching down to entwine her red lacquered fingertips in the Colonel's wife's black, shimmering hair, soft as baby down. "Let them beat me ... I ... I won't let them touch you ... please...." She sucked in her breath and threw back her bleached blonde hair. Just too tempting it was, and if she relented now, Joyce knew she would be throwing away the last thread of decency and that would mean reliance on booze to alleviate guilt and shame. "Please ... honey ... I can't stand it!"
A smile pulled at the corner of Cora's lovely mouth as she moved her hands upward until her fingertips grazed the soft, sparse hairs framing Joyce's pussy. Something had snapped inside her today, spilling inhibitions. Her body refused to quiet down. Little devilish pinpricks stabbed at the heart of her pussy, begging to be itched ... this time from the touch of a ripe bodied woman in the form of one Joyce Dillon.
Joyce, feeling Cora's soft hands gently nudging her backwards onto the Nelson's marriage bed, felt a jumble of confusion and indecision mouht treacherously. Once ... before she'd met Earl, she'd experienced a woman sucking and licking at her burning vagina, and though she'd chalked it up to a drunken spree which she rationalized away, she'd sworn to never repeat the lesbian lovemaking for fear of rusting Earl's reputation.
Well damned Earl to hell! ... she decided. What's he ever done for me?
Compliantly, she tumbled onto the bed as her knees touched the edge of the mattress and then scrambled compliantly onto the sweat warmed sheets. Joyce's eyes riveted on Cora's face and a queasy sensation of expectancy sent butterflies dancing in her stomach. Cora's dark eyes gleamed as gently she pushed Joyce down onto her back, then lay stretched out beside her. Joyce felt the heat of Cora's body next to her own, thigh rubbing against smooth thigh, silken belly against her hip, with breasts crushed against Joyce's rib cage with each of the hard pink nipples jabbing into her shivering flesh.
The three Cuban refugees were too stunned to react. Mesmerized, they pulled at their cocks, wondering if American women spent idle afternoons rubbing each other's naked bodies while the dishwasher hummed in the kitchen and microwave ovens made tonight's dinner. The land of milk and honey-and devilish women ... that was America!
Caressingly, Cora took Joyce's face in her hands and wanting to silence the other's fears, she pressed her soft lips warmly to Joyce's quivering lips. So gently done was it, that Joyce wasn't aware of the exact moment Cora's tongue floated into her mouth. Joyce's breath came in short gasps, and the thrills of long denied delicious sex thundered between her legs as her cuntal muscles expanded and contracted in delight-filled anticipation that all but drove her insane. Licking and sucking at Cora's tongue swirling in her mouth, the Mayor's wife let out a cooing wail of surrender. She could have cum right then ... could have let the sweet sex juices flow from the heart of her neglected womb, but the sensation was too delicious. It need be savored.
Cora slipped one leg over Joyce's firm upper thighs, rubbing her swollen clitoris over Cora's firm hip bone. An electric shock coursed through her at the contact, shuddering as she realized that Cora's hand was moving up toward her melonous breasts, stroking and massaging her snow white flesh with feathery touches., "Ohhh ... aggghhh...." Joyce moaned in delight as Cora's lips left her own and began kissing and nibbling their way softly down to the breast she now held tightly in her small, warm hand. Cora's hands became aggressive then, squeezing and pushing the mounds up high so that bending her head, her lips made hungry contact with the puffy, over-sized nipples.
Joyce had reached sensual nirvana! Trembling with passion, she felt Cora reluctantly release her claim on one of Joyce's breasts to reach down and entangle her pink polished nails in Joyce's soft dark pubic curls. A moment later, her long middle finger began sliding up and down the damp slit between the Mayor's wife's trembling thighs, maddeningly avoiding all contact with the nub of her swollen clitoris, making Joyce quiver and moan with tantalizing frustration and the burning need to cum ... which she covetously thwarted. This was too sweet a torture to end so soon!
Wanting this to be good for Joyce (and subconsciously wanting it to be good for herself), Cora slid her finger back into the damp crevice until it reached the rubbery pucker of Joyce's hotly twitching rectum.
The two women went beserk, grinding their naked bodies against each other in the heat of the Kansas afternoon, leaving their three male attackers to stare in slack-jawed awe. Cora sank her teeth into the tender flesh of Joyce's breast, trying to cram the milky orb into her mouth. The pain in Joyce's rectum had subsided and gently Cora began to move her finger in and out, back and forth in the tiny quivering hole, boring deeper. The puckered ring had clenched so tightly on Cora's knuckle that it sucked right in with each movement of the Colonel's wife's squirming finger.
From deep within her chest and deep within her hungry soul, Joyce moaned out her appreciation. The pain in her rectum dissipated, and she moved her naked buttocks in a frantic effort to suck the invading digit in all the way to her bowels! Flexing and unflexing muscles she hadn't exercised in years, she found herself building toward a screeching climax. Her body worked toward the badly needed peak of lust. To have that deliciously slender finger screwing her anus was wonderful ... but to have something virile and potent fucking into her cunt would have been a Godsend!
Somebody in the room was reading her mind. Suddenly Joyce felt strong arms tugging at her body, pulling her away from Cora's frantically churning buttocks. "Ohhh ... noooo!" she groaned in frustration and anger as they were being torn apart, separating their luscious female flesh. So damned close ... God, why had she held back her orgasm? Joyce glanced up....
... into Carlos' lecherously grinning face. A swirl of black hair dipped over his silken, golden forehead. His dark eyes shone with the lustful promise of fulfillment. Joyce let out an anxious sigh, her eyes falling to the spike of Carlos' jutting, purple knobbed penis, spearing out from a curled mass of shimmering pubic kinks. Disappointed, Joyce watched the Cuban refugee crawl onto the squeaking bed and crawl between Cora's spread eagled body.
"Eiii...." Joyce sucked in her breath, her breasts heaving with red hot lust. She threw back her head and wailed out her need. "Oh, Gawddd!" pleaded the Mayor's wife. "Somebody fuck me ... I'm burning up inside!" Lewdly, she stretched wide the ivory columns of her quivering thighs so that all three refugees could stare dumb struck at the seeping hole of her vagina where the nub of her clitoris stood out like a throbbing red heart. "Look at me!" she wailed, face contorted with lust. "I need a man...!" Fearful they might ignore her, as she'd long been ignored by Earl, she arched her back, threw back her head and, with the soft pad of her index finger stroked the magic red button in swirling circles while her other hand held wide open the swollen, ragged flanges of her needful cunt.
"Holy sheeet!" mumbled Carlos, watching the Mayor's wife masturbating herself to one rip roaring orgasm. "Lemme do that!" Abandoning Cora, he nimbly scrambled for Joyce's quivering body. Grasping her hips, he jerked Joyce toward him until her buttocks hung slightly over the edge of the bed and her legs splayed out on either side of his taut, golden muscled body. Grabbing his cock like a fireplace poker, he aimed it at the fiery hole of her pussy and lunged forward with violence.
The eight inch penis drove hard and straight into its target until the two sperm filled balls slapped hard against the sensitive, already teased ring of Joyce's long neglected anus. The contact was electrocuting, damningly wonderful!
If Joyce Dillon had feared the illiterate refugees her husband so detested from the day they'd arrived uninvited to his fair city ... the fear and prejudism had evaporated into an artful appreciation of what a fifteen year-old prick could do for a thirty-eight year old woman!
The thin soft edges of her pussy clung lovingly to the penis as it slowly withdrew and she screwed her ass down into the mattress. The fiery thrusts that brought her body to blazing life, pushed the soft fleshy fold back into her. Like a never-ending oil drill, the glistening brown cock bored into the warm dark wonders of Joyce's welcoming cuntal hole. Joyce Dillon had reached nirvana, and she damned Earl and his niggardly sensuality and she damned this snobbish, hick town for not welcoming these hard bodied refugee boys with cocks like Lawrence, Kansas women had never seen! Bunch of dumb wheat farmers, snickered Joyce inwardly.
For a faltering moment, Joyce thought of Earl and experienced a brief spasm of guilt ... but Carlos' next thrust into her buttery depths wiped clean senseless guilt and brought her crashing back to reality again.
The bed creaked and groaned as Ricki climbed between Cora's legs, taking Carlos' place, and they fucked like alley cats on a full moon night. Her eyes rolled like marbles in her head and delirious from lesbian lovemaking, she caught sight of Juan behind her, looking disgruntedly neglected as he waited, pumping his cock in his hungry fist, for Ricki and Carlos' to cum so he could take one of their places.
Joyce eyed the unused erection desirously and with a grunt, she slithered over closer to the edge of the bed and wrapped her delicate fist around the bloodfed stalk, yanking it toward the milky vee of her cleavage. She'd let a woman maul her breasts and strip her naked ... why stop now? Pushing her milky mounds together invitingly, she winked up into Juan's dark face.
For a discontented moment, Carlos stopped fucking the seeping hole between Joyce's legs, while his Jamaican friend knelt above her generously endowed chest. Lubricating his bone hard cock with a drop of spittle, he wedged the hunk of flesh between her tightly pressed breasts and gritted his teeth from the tantalizing warmth. The two boys used the Mayor's wife's body in unison, stroking in long, delicious strokes.
Joyce's eyes rolled in rapture; she moaned in whispering contentment as she watched the pulsating shining head of Juan's cock peeking through the valley of her cleavage at the same time the swarthy faced stud's prick fucked against her tingling cervix so hard his penis doubled over at the end. "Ahhhh GAWWWDDDD ... I love to fuck ... ahhhhhgg gg-hhhheeee iiii!Fuck me harrrdef!"
The bed quivered and shook as the three Cuban refugees drove their cocks harder into the two women humping on Colonel Nelson's marriage bed. Cora's legs were pushed higher and higher ... like bicycle bars ... until Ricki pressed her ankles over her quivering shoulders and pinned her to the mahogany headboard. Beside her, the bed rocked on all its sturdy posts as Joyce took what the two refugees could give her, hammering into her marbly body so hard her teeth rattled. Moans of joy and groans of unutterable relief tore from the lungs of the two women.
Outside the window, someone's lungs burned, too. One Earl Dillon stood pale and trembling with rage and indecision as his white knuckles clung to the win-dowsill and his breath steamed against the windowpane. His jaw worked as if chomping on a mouthful of peanuts. The energy burned within him and like a steam engine puffing smoke, it needed release. He'd kill the bitch ... and that slut of a Colonel's wife! It was her doing. Christ, his Joyce might love the bottle, but a lesbian ... never! Lord knew what kind of kinky, perverted ideas Cora had filled his wife's head with. He'd always known Joyce had a screw loose somewhere ... but she was tightening it fast!
Cora felt the scalding sperm spurt as Ricki's pintful poured into her clasping cunt. Her vaginal muscles contracted and squeezed around his spurting cock, sucking at it to pull all of it into her. That first hot squirt triggered her own orgasm, and her muscles milked his fifteen year old penis like a tugging milking machine. Her body twitched convulsively, the tendons cording the insides of her silken thighs standing out in bold relief. The Cuban's seething jism showered her quivering belly and when the geyser in his balls lessened to a dribble, the flow spilled out the ragged lips of her cunt to streak down the smooth white crevice across her still twitching buttocks.
Cora refused to open her eyes, knowing guilt, remorse and a shower of horrifying emotions would fill her senses where once uncaring sensuality had reigned supreme. A good thing Joyce and her two sweaty rapists distracted those thoughts. Blinking her eyes to clear lust-blurred vision, Cora gaped at Juan riding Joyce's ribcage, his tawny prick sliding in and out, lubricated by his own juices, between her oozing breast flesh that Joyce's red lacquered fingertips held pressed desperately together. In Rashaman rhythm, Carlos thrust his cock with drum beat tattoos in and out of her sucking cunt ... the cunt Mayor Dillon had thought was frozen shut for life!
"Ohhh ... Gawwwwddd!" yelped the Mayor's wife as a sudden spasm shivered through her and a wild twitching sent her humping against them. "I'mmm cummming!!!" Her shriek sounded as if she didn't believe it was actually happening to her-finally!
With bestial, pagan fury, the two Cubans fucked into her, their naked bodies slapping sweatily against each other, filling the room with lewd squelching sounds that seeped through the windowpane to sting Mayor Dillon's ears. Anger raged like wildfire along his short circuiting synapses as his wife arched her back off the bed and savagely used her heels as spurs to drive Carlos deeper into her steaming pussy.
With one mighty lunge, the young Cuban slammed into her so hard his buttocks twitched and rippled as that thrust sent the sensitive head of his cock banging against the spongy tip of her cervix. That did it! It was one wild hydra of orgasming bodies, legs and arms banging into each other as all three groaned out their release. Cum spurted from Joyce's open cunt and splattered onto her face and chin as Juan's Jamaican jism shot with white hot speed between her goosebumped breasts.
The Kansas sun slipped westward into a cooling sky, taking with it the sweetness of forbidden lust for Cora Nelson. Clouds of guilt stormed with blackening guilt. Wearily she lifted her flushed cheeks from the rumpled bed and glared at the three naked youths and the Mayor's equally unclothed wife.
"Get out of here!" she yelped tragically. "Get out of my house right now ... you ... you filthy refugees!" Her luscious nudity rippled with hatred and disgust.
Joyce blinked in saucer-eyed bewilderment, fully expecting another bout of lovemaking. "But ... '. but Cora...?"
Cora's lip curled in disgust. She struggled to swallow down the sickening reminder of her initiated lesbian advances. "I said all of you ... get out of my house and leave me alone!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
Should he kill her with his fists or should he inflict mental torture and kill her with kindness? These thoughts ran through Earl Dillon's adrenalin powered brain as he glared at his wife across the dining room table and picked at a Stoffer's frozen meat pie that had come out of the microwave five minutes before.
The crowsfeet under her heavily made-up eyes were smooth and her face wore the flushed happiness of a sensually satisfied woman. She'd actually whistled to herself in the kitchen as she clattered about. Christ, she wasn't even drunk as usual ... and the Grandfather clock struck six-thirty! Her nonchalant lack of guilt infuriated him, but he fought it, knowing that to loose his temper would blow the lid off the cauldron designated for Colonel Leo Nelson.
Picking the peas out of the tepid gravy bathing chunks of stew meat and methodically lining them up . alongside the plate, he cleared his throat. "You talk to Cora Nelson about how her refugees are wrorkin' out?" he asked in a cracking voice. The muscles in the back of his neck tightened like bedsprings and sweat beaded his balding forehead as he watched his wife daintily dab at her mouth with the corner of a linen napkin and reply in a too content sing-songy voice:
"Yes, sweetheart. I took a spin out to her house and we had coffee and talked...." She shivered her shoulders seductively. "Girl talk, you know ... No complaints, no complaints at all ... she said the boys did a lovely job cleaning her garage...."
The muscles of Mayor Dillon's jaws meshed, and it wasn't to chew the stew meat. Lying fuckin' cunt ... I wonder how many other filthy Commie dicks she's fucked behind my back?
Over a forkful of lettuce, Joyce glared at the jouncing jowls, her mind flitting back to the provocative swarthy bodies of Cora Nelson's garage cleaners. The one with the curly black hair dipping down over his proud forehead and bedroom eyes snapping at her naked bumps and curves remained fixed in her guiltless mind's eye. God, how those Cubans could screw! Beneath the fabric of her dress, the hardened nubs of her nipples bore the chafed sensitivity of Cora Nelson's wildly biting attention. And the luscious feel of the Jamaican's stone hard cock drubbing between her milky breasts ... squirting hi's cum over her oozing breast flesh so that she tasted droplets splattered over her nose and mouth....
Who needed wine to calm dangling nerve ends? Sex ... sex was the best relaxant imaginable! And I don't have to hide it under the sofa! smirked Joyce absent-mindedly. 'Mentally, she calculated how many afternoons a week she cou Id spend doing charitable work at the army base camp for the hapless refugees. Especially those poor, neglected boys!
But her sunny mood clouded as her thoughts fled back to Cora, the pathetically whimpering creature whose rattling sobs echoed down the hallway after Joyce had closed the bedroom door. Poor baby felt so bad!
Abruptly Joyce's fluttering eyelids leveled on her husband. For an embarrassed moment, their eyes sparred. Joyce looked askance and, talking down at her plate, she queried: "Why are you so curious if Cora Nelson is satisfied with her refugee employees ... dear?"
Mayor Dillon chewed for a long moment on his tasteless dinner, maintaining a level-eyed glare at his wife's questioning gaze and remained reticent.
Cora fastened the safety lock on the front door, checked the windows and neglected the charm of afternoon sunshine. With a languid sigh, she lazed in the bathtub, sorting out emotions. The water lapped at her dimpled chin, trembling with blackening regret.
Thank goodness Leo hadn't tried to make love to her last night! After changing the sheets and cleaning the evidence from her ravaged womanhood, she'd managed magically to throw together the semblances of dinner. But Leo wasn't hungry. He'd stomped out of the house, heading for the garage to grab the lawn clippers and until the sun denuded the sky of light, he worked furiously in the yard, clipping the crab grass from the brick sidewalk.
That was a habit of his, raping the crab grass when problems plagued him. Usually it fatigued him into relaxation, but last night when the Colonel stepped into the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and settled down before the television set, his face wore the same harried look that had exited the kitchen door two hours prior. To tighten the screws of guilt, he'd gulped down his beer with uncharacteristic rapacity and slumped into bed at nine thirty-five, leaving his guilt-gushing wife to struggle with herself to keep from confessing all ... right down to the fingering of Mayor Dillon's wife's breast!
Did Leo know the infidelity that rumpled his bed that afternoon? Had one of the Cubans squealed, bragged to his buddies about raping the Colonel's wife-the masochistic, sex-starved Colonel's wife?
Cora faced the new day with courage. She would tell Leo everything tonight, and perhaps he could figure out who had paid Carlos and his friends to tie her to a bedpost and perform the basest of perversions upon her.
Those questions chased about her brain even as she wrapped a thirsty Jacquard towel about her dripping nudity and ran for the brrrrrrngggg of the upstairs telephone. It might be Leo.
It wasn't. It was Mayor Dillon.
Cora's satiny forehead wrinkled. What in the world could he want with her?
"Yes ... I'll be home this afternoon," she offered reluctantly. "I ... I guess that would be okay."
The loathesome speculation of entertaining Mayor Dillon was last on the list of desirables for Cora Nelson; but to refuse would potentially endanger Colonel Nelson's relations with Earl ... just when Leo was gaining support in his fight for the Cuban refugees' welfare rights.
Forty-five minutes later the hulk of Mayor Dillon's presence shadowed the Nelson's front door.
For a moment, Cora would have sworn he was shaking. "Hello, Mayor ... please come in," chimed Cora hypocritically.
He stepped past her and well inside the house turned and shot her a stare that made Cora wonder if Joyce had told her husband of yesterday's uncomely actions. Earl's eyes never left Cora's shivering body even as she invited him into the living room where he plunked his massive frame into the leather easy chair and rested his polished shoes on the ottoman ... a practice Leo forbid.
Earl cleared his throat. "I'm glad I found you unoccupied this afternoon," he said, his eyebrows arching on the world 'unoccupied', in a way that made Cora's heart leap to her throat and her mind race to digest the cryptic message. Could Joyce have deceived her? It seemed the Mayor had an inkling about the rape and perhaps his wife's involvement.
Gathering her courage, she turned a stony face to him. "I'm a very busy woman, Mayor ... if you'll come to the point...."
Mayor Dillon squirmed in his chair, presenting a picture of determination to the woman cringing into the sofa across from him. His eyes lifted from Cora's defensively crossed ankles, slender and well turned, up the stockingless calf to her nipped in waist and flushed cheeks.
"I'm concerned about the refugees who've come here to work at your house. I asked Joyce to call you and find out if everything's been working out okay ... any problems ... insolence ...?" Here he spread his hands in an insinuating, emphatic gesture, his eyes level with hers.
Cora shook her head dramatically. "No, none ... they've worked very well...."
"Well enough for you to hire two more tomorrow?" He raised his bushy eyebrows accusatively and cocked his head to the side, studying her paling expression.
"Why...." the word caught in Cora's throat and a slender fingertip reached up to toy with the satin yellow ribbon trailing from her ponytail and down over her shoulder. " ... I haven't any more work to be done-"
Mayor Dillon offered a cryptic grin. "Just out of curiosity, did Joyce drop by yesterday ...?"
"Y-yes," nodded Cora, wanting to wring her hands but willing herself not to. "Yes, she did ... we had coffee and chatted ... it was nice seeing Joyce again, why we-"
Mayor Dillon bolted forward in his chair. "You lying bitch!" He jabbed a finger toward the outside of the house. "Just for your information, I dropped by myself yesterday to find out how the refugees were working out-and by God, they were working out ... fucking and sucking you ... you, the wife of a respected Colonel, behaving like a slut, grovelling and sucking Cuban cock...!"
Cora's ears pounded with blood. She clamped her dainty hands over her shell-like ears and breathed hard enough to shut out the damning accusations booming from Mayor Dillon's lungs. He'd been there ... he'd seen ... oh God, what will happen to me now? And Joyce ...!
When she could squeeze shut her eyes no more, and the blood quieted in her ears, the brave Colonel's wife let her hands drop and her tear brimming eyes stared at her lap, one finger toying with a loose thread on her skirt.
It was a cool headed, triumphant Mayor who grinned salaciously at his opponent's wife now. "I came to get a story for the Gazette, Cora, I didn't come here to call you names," he apologized insincerely. But by God, you'll suffer for sucking my wife's tits! "In fact," he offered, "I'll make a bargain with you ... I won't snitch on you for sucking the Mayor's wife's tits if you'll agree to tell the Gazette you've been assaulted in your own house by the Cuban refugees hired to perform menial," and here he snickered at the word, " ... tasks in your home. Do we have a deal, Mrs. Nelson?"
Cora's dainty hand flew to her forehead. Hadn't she subconsciiously known it would come to this? She gasped audibly, frightened she might be sick. Hadn't she known too, that Mayor Dillon had paid the refugees to storm into her house and defile her?
"You...." she spat through curled lips. "You're the one who hired the refugees to rape me. Isn't it bad enough that you beat your wife ... why do you have to ruin me, too? I've never hurt you!"
That old American zenophobia again ... Because she was Cuban born, she was being used as a social tool to hammer down the Cuban refugees, to drill them out of the country ... and because of her, one innocent Cora Nelson. "Nooo ... I won't." Her voice shrilled to a whine and her apple cheeks faded to dead gray.
He winked one piggish eye at her. "Sure you will, Cora ... sure you will...." he mocked with confidence. The Mayor shadowed that corner of the living room as he leaned forward, blocking out sunlight, and grinned. "You will because I'll go to the Gazette if you don't. Every General and officer on the army base will be chuckling about Leo's wife ... the cock suckin' Colonel's wife who spends her afternoons perverting the Mayor's wife, that's why. Have you any idea how powerful I am in this town, Cora?" He counted off his supporters on thick fingers. "I've got the print wrapped around my little finger, the welfare department thinks like me, the police department ... even the god damned church! The military in this country runs on pride, my dear ... small town politics runs on fear You have nothing on your side...."
Salty tears dribbled down Cora's flushed cheeks, and when she pulled the pathetically trembling fist from her quivering lips, she heard him say mellifluously in a voice not unlike his wife's cajoling one.
"We may be able to work something out," he added, leaning back in the chair. "If you were to perform certain services for me, I would be willing to drop the charge of lesbianism and we could go with a straight rape charge against these fuckin' Commies."
If ever Cora wanted to die, it was then. Torn between damning the refugees whom Leo had struggled to help, or breaking her husband's career? Life or death for someone, no matter how you cut it. Yet to whom did she owe her allegiance? Obviously to Leo ... the sound of his name brought fresh tears. Hopefully, with help from the military, Leo could gloss over the rape charge, chalking it up to typical small town anti-Cuban sentiment and not infringe upon the Cubans fight for freedom. Yes ... she must 'work something out,' as the Mayor put it.
"Work what out?" she sniffed.
A crooked grin creased the Mayor's face. "Joyce and I don't make love much anymore ... I guess she likes women now and Cubans," he added in a knife blade voice.
"A-all right, Earl ... let's have the sentence. What do you want?" her voice was barely a whisper.
"First of all, I want you to shut up. I can't stomach crying women."
A deep sigh pulled from Cora's chest as desperately she tried to pull herself together. She had acted like a slut with the refugee's, so why not do so for a real purpose-like saving her husband's career? Hadn't enough people suffered because of her Cuban heritage? Maybe that reasoning gave her the sudden burst of strength as, brightening, she realized she still had her pride. He'd offered her the ultimatum ... not vice versa. If he demanded sexuality to free her and every other unfortunate soul soiled by her birth, then so be it. That didn't mean she had to revel in it.
"Okay, Earl ... where do we start?" she asked with a nervous titter that sounded more hysterical than amused.
"Strip...." he grunted.
Mayor Dillon mentally slapped himself on the back. Damned good idea, making up that bit about the Gazette. Little bitch fell for it hook, line and sinker ... which in his mind proved that every Cuban was stupid.
Trembling and chewing her bottom lip until she tasted blood, the remorseful Colonel's wife stripped out of her T-shirt and cotton denim skirt, standing before his piggish eyes now in the skimpiest of silk bikini panties which she'd worn for Leo's faltering virility, and a pink silken brassiere to match. The lace trim swept over the smooth line of her hips, grazing, shimmering black pussy curls, to be repeated at her bosom, hiding only the puffiness of her beige nipples from the Mayor's hungry-eyed gaze.
A gasp of admiration whistled from Earl's heaving lungs. Cora felt a chill as he laved over her young eurves, embarrassed by his blatant sexuality as quickly, she hurled herself down onto the sofa and crossed her arms modestly over her breasts to hide from his odios stare.
"Don't be modest," he grunted in a bored voice. "Spread your legs ... I've got meetings to go to, budgets to plan ... I don't have patience with uptight cunts!" His voice grew in velocity and swallowing her pride, Cora uncurled her arms from her bosom and let her legs fall apart.
"Cunt ... I wanna see cunt...."
Sniffling, she spread her legs further apart and when she could see by his expression that the coral slit behind the snug band of her panties was open to him, she leaned back into the cushions, clenched shut her eyes and tried to block out the image of his lust twisted face.
"I can't see your cunt ... take off your panties ... like you did Joyce's!"
That stung. Fearing he'd keep his word and ruin forever the honorable Colonel Leo Nelson, Cora compliantly peeled off her panties, rolling them over the warm swell of her hips. Biting her lower lip, she kicked the dainty garment to the floor and reached behind her back and stripped off her brassiere without being told.
Now, shivering in nudity, she awaited his next command.
It came soon enough. Opening her eyes, Cora saw him gesticulating with his finger, his face purpling with lust. "One foot over the back of the sofa and the other on the floor ... you hear me?"
Numbly, knowing he could see right up the hole of her pussy, she splayed her legs and found herself leaning back into the corner of the couch, her thighs spread so far apart it hurt the well exercised muscles. Shuddering in revulsion and hating him for holding her captive in her own house, she saw a drop of spittle foam at the corner of the Mayor's thick lips as he stared hungrily at her naked pussy. That he was fully dressed gilded her humiliation.
His next command came in a thick voice. "Now play with yourself ... masturbate for me, Cora!"
Cora's chocolate eyes flew open in disgust. "No! Nooo! You're demented!" she bridled.
His doleful gaze felt like a snake slithering up her spine and she nodded relentingly to indicate she understood fully the rider in their verbal contract. Her sex or Leo's career? One had already been soiled.
Goosebumping, Cora lifted her trembling hands to the mounds of her golden breasts, pulling and tweaking at her nipples, the way she had Joyce's Dillon's the day before. She heartlessly toyed with them, as if they were marbles, inanimate objects. Little pinpricks of sensation ricocheted through her tender flesh, still sensitive from yesterday's ravages.
"Okay," she heard him sigh. "Now finger your cunt.
Play with your clit and lick your fingers." Cora's eyes quickly lifted from her tormentor's massiveness as embarrassed, she watched his hand dip to the crotch of his suit pants to press with the heel of his hand the rising tree trunk.
If he thinks I can make myself cum in front of him ... he'scrazy ... alonemaybe ... but never in front of Mayor Dillon! she averred.
To prove that supposition, her fingertips dropped down to flutter like birds over the black curls of her pubis, hoping to God Lawrence's Mayor was one of those perverts who liked to watch women masturbate ... the kind of men who frequented peep shows and paid one dollar to see a naked woman he couldn't touch. Dramatically she ran the tips of her fingers over the smooth, sensitive outer lips of her cuntal opening, feeling a stiffening bolt of electricity as the petals opened and moistened for entry.
Her eyes fluttered shut and struggling to concentrate on the purpose of this demented mission, she dutifully stroked her forefinger over the tiny rosebud of her clitoris, softly at first. Rigidly, fighting the impulse to shut out the Mayor's presence, she toyed superficially with her naked genitals.
"You're not following directions, bitch!" he growled. "That's not the way you played with my wife!"
I ... I have to do as he says ... or Leo ... Leo!
Faster now, she thumped at the growing bulb of her clitoris, a delicious tingling sensation radiating out around the tiny swollen peak like the beam of a searchlight. It felt good, damningly good ... Mayor Dillon or no Mayor Dillon. Maybe if she made herself cum that would satisfy him ... maybe. Anything was worth a try. She fingered herself more vigorously, her fingers working furiously while her body goosebumped and quivered in masturbatory bliss!
A groan tore from her mouth as she plunged a finger into her hot waiting hole. Squirming it inside herself, she pulled it free only to ram it back in again. Her head flew back to rest on the cushion and her lips parted in a low moan of ecstasy.
"Take your finger out of your cunt, Cora, and lick it! Taste yourself ... like you wanted to taste my wife!"
She obeyed, pulling her finger sticky with cuntal juices from the slurping hole of her cunt and tentatively lifted it to her lips. Slowly the tip of her pink tongue swept over the sticky digit, licking her own juices, piquant, womanly juices. A moan bubbled from her lips and across the room, above her own whimpering sighs, she heard Mayor Dillon pant with unpent lust.
Quickly the finger jabbed back into that warm hole and she felt the juices dripping like rainwater from its mucousy, warm walls. The juices dribbled down her hand as that finger ground erotically into the marble of her clitoris, while three more digits sawed in and out of her pussy. In circles, in ever widening circles, she moved those fingers ... widening the hole and stretching.
But three fingers weren't enough. Not after Carlos' invasion of her seeping hole! Desperately, she shoved in a fourth. Yes ... that was better ... not enough, but better. She felt it build and stoke in the pit of her belly, and knew it wouldn't take much to cum ... then the odious Mayor Dillon would leave her in peace.
With undisguised delight, Lawrence's ignoble Mayor watched the drama unfold. The bulge in his pants hardened and his flabby belly heaved. His naked eyes wouldn't budge from the Cuban wife's hand furiously trying to make herself cum. He wondered if she masturbated often ... she seemed to have the routine down pretty damned well!
"That's it, baby ... screw yourself, make yourself cum ... pretend that's Cuban cock fuckin' you ... yeah, dirty Commie Cuban cock!" he hissed.
Cora threw back her head and whimpered out frustration from not cumming. She could have scaled the walls with her fingernails from the jet fueled energy raging in her veins. Her four long, slender fingers dipped wetly in and out of the swollen flanges of her cunt, the glistening black curls framing her seeping pussy dotted with white pearls of female love juices. Perspiration sheened her forehead, her cheeks, her breasts, just like the salty drops beading her trembling buttocks. A growl of frustration tore from her bosom, changing to the high whine of ecstasy as she rocked on the sofa finger fucking herself.
Cora chewed on her lip, struggling to break out of the gut-tearing plateau of lust. God, what was wrong? Why couldn't she cum ... it had always been so easy in the past ... now to save her soul and Leo's career, she couldn't cum!
Frustrated, she gave up, her sticky fingers squelching nakedly from her womb. Slowly, her eyes lifted to his bugged orbs.
T ... I can't cum ... not in front of you ... I just can't...."
"That's too bad, Cora...." he breathed. "That's too damned bad!"
CHAPTER NINE
Cora blinked pathetically up at her tormentor and swallowed hard. She stared down at her sticky fingers and then up into his jowled face. He grinned lopsidedly and without unfastening his eyes from her naked lusciousness, he rose to unfasten his pants.
A moment later, the Mayor of Lawrence stood completely naked, his pulsing, heavy cock standing out like a tree branch from his paunch with his weighty balls swaying between his thick thighs as he stroked the thick foreskin back and forth over the mushroomed head.
His bulk closed in on her where she sat, a trembling, cringing creature sinking into the sofa cushions. A pathetic mewl broke from her lungs and snakes seemed to crawl up her spine when Earl reached down with one meaty hand and ran his hot palm over the mounds of her breasts and down further over the satiny skin over her belly to the soft, fleshy folds of her cunt below.
Cora sucked in her breath as his touch sent unwanted ripples of fear-awakened titillation over her shuddering body until her nerve ends felt scorched and frizzled. A rash of goosebumps beaded over the golden satin of her skin. Dear Lord, what had happened to her within the past few days that her body would so readily betray her spirit?
"The Colonel's wife is getting horny, huh?" guffawed the Mayor, reaching down to tweak painfully at her right nipple, grinning as the puffiness tightened into a rosebud of sensitivity.
"Never ... not with you ... you PIG!" she spat.
"Save that word for your Cuban boys, Cora!" he bellowed back in a gust of foul wind that fairly pinned her to the sofa.
Cora blinked up at him, wondering if he'd beat her as he did his wife, Joyce. "Do whatever you must, and then get out of my house!" sobbed Cora, weary of the torment, the endless torment that clouded her life since the first Cuban refugee stepped foot in Lawrence, Kansas.
"I'll do with you what I please ... when I please. I'm the Mayor of this hick town, and don't you forget it!" he rasped, enjoying his hold on this gorgeous slut.
His greedy eyes were feasting on her cringing nakedness, and the Mayor lowered his bulk onto the sofa, then crouched on all squatting fours. The breath hissed from his lungs; the position was not easy for a man of his size. The frail body beneath him shivered as he rested his palms hard on the insides of her thighs. His mouth watered as his eyes fatened onto the hair-framed slit of her open cunt, dripping with juices a few inches from his quivering lips. A string of saliva drooled down his chin to dribble obscenely onto the lubricating juices oozing from the narrow hole at the bottom of her smooth tawny belly.
With a horrified gasp, Cora gazed down at the man shamelessly crouched between her parted thighs. She could feel his hot, sweating palms pressed against the soft flesh of her inner thighs and then she felt it.
"EEEIIII ... aggghhh...." she groaned piteously, her body spasming convulsively as his hot lips clamped down over the pulsating flanges of her vagina. His lips sucked, drawing the warm, soft, fleshy folds deep into the warmth of his mouth, while his tongue began a maddening licking against the bulb of her excited clitoris. She wriggled her buttocks into the sofa, struggling to escape the damningly wonderful sensation, but instead her body drew trump and she wriggled against him. His tongue tip worked its way up and down the wet, narrow slit. Her hips ground wildly into the cushions, soft mewling animal sounds of pleasure bubbling from her clenched teeth.
Abruptly, he stopped. Cora's eyes blinked open in silent disappointment.
"Like that, huh?" he grunted, grinning salaciously up into her puzzled face, glistening with her cuntal juices.
Cora refused to answer. She turned her head aside, her body sizzling with the need for release ... but not with the odious Mayor of Lawrence! NEVER!
"Okay, you don't wanna talk to Earl ... if that's the way you want it!" He grabbed her harshly by the arm. "Turn over ... Earl's got a treat for ya!"
What choice had she but to obey? His bruising fingers were torturing her arm, cutting off the blood supply. She twisted around on the sofa, changing positions until she was kneeling with her body resting on the back cushions. She felt him rise from the sofa and stand up behind her, his beefy hands suddenly resting on the smooth half moons of her buttocks. She shivered at the feel of him kissing the cheeks of her tanned ass, biting into them with sharp little werewolf nips.
She stiffened. He'd pried open her buttocks, drawing the cheeks wide apart, then licked the crevice between with long, slurping strokes. He pulled and stretched at her asshole and she could feel the strain on the tight, resisting, rubbery ring of her rectum. Never ... even at the hands of the raping Cuban refugees had she felt so obscenely naked and vulnerable! The panting Mayor leaned over her buttocks and slobberingly kissed and lapped at the tiny, brown puckered hole as if it were another cunt. Cora's tiny palms were filled with wads of sofa upholstery as her polished fingertips clawed bird-like and she clenched her teeth against the traitorous sensations rippling over her satiny flesh.
She shuddered when she felt the tip of his finger at the hole of her most private anatomy and she jerked automatically away from the strange sensation.
"Open your ass!" he bellowed, jabbing at the tightly clenching hole.
Open my ass...? What's he talking about?
Whop! One beefy palm slapped across her buttocks, jarring her senses.
"I said relax ... and open your ass!"
A long sigh of submission tore from Cora's lungs as she gasped, then relaxed and let the odious creature behind her maliciously, painfully taunt her naked flesh. For a moment longer he probed at the outer edges of the small elastic hole, then shoved forward, sadistically sinking his finger up to the first knuckle in her buttery depths.
Cora stiffened and relaxed. To her shock the pain subsided when she took a deep breath and released it slowly. Earl dug into the tight hole, squirming his thick finger slowly into the velvety depths of her rectum.
She was proud of her brave efforts at tolerating his rape ... until suddenly she felt the extra pinching pressure of a second finger ramming unexpectedly alongside the first. She struggled to cringe away from him, but he kept on her trail, pinning her upper torso to the back of the sofa with the palm of his meaty hand.
"Please ... Earl ... Mayor ... that hurts!" she hissed. "Please stop!" Tears of real pain and mortification streamed down her satin cheeks as she realized he was hellbent on sodomizing her! Never could she live through the humiliation ... and be a good, loving wife to Leo.
In cruel mockery to her sobbing despair, his fingers began to work together inside the clinging hole of her rectum, grinding down into the contracted anal tissue, stretching it mercilessly as he twisted and turned his fingers in that tiny hole, preparing it for the massive invasion of his burgeoning cock. She tried valiantly to jerk her buttocks free, but her quivers only incited him to probe deeper and more painfully into her depths.
"I ain' fucked a bitch in the ass since my wedding night," he snickered. "You got a nice ass, Cora ... nice and clean."
As suddenly as he'd shoved his fingers into her, he pulled them out. Reluctantly they popped out, the rubbery skin of her anus clinging to them and making embarrassing hissing sounds that stung the captive's ears. Climbing onto the couch behind her, he forced her slender legs wide with his hairy knees, then moistened the tiny hole with a drop of warm saliva, preparing for the battering assault. Held wide and helpless, completely at the Mayor's maniacal mercy, she bit down on her lower lip, preparing for the first cruel lunge.
His hands grasped her hips, his fingers dug into the flesh, holding them firmly in the air as she felt the excitedly pulsating head of his cock resting within her split crevice. The shock at that initial contact made her gasp. It was like forcing an elephant through a doorway. Lord, it would rip her apart back there! Squirming desperately, she tried to pull away from his clutch, but he held her tight and began to prod at the tight, hairless opening of her anus.
His heavy, strong hands coursed down over her satiny buttocks, his thumbs pressing on either side of the tiny hole, stretching it wide. "Shit, I bet ol' Leo's never fucked you there, has he?" chuckled the Mayor of Lawrence lwedly.
"Nooo! Pleeezzz!" she shrieked, her head flying up Cobra-like from the sofa. She felt the tight ring give way before the pressure, the tip popping into her with a slight jerk.
The pain was excruciating. She felt dizzy and, for a second, Cora saw stars as she twisted, screamed, struggling to get away from him. But her buttocks were moving wildly and her thrashing about only helped him to fuck his fat penis even deeper into her helpless rectum.
"Please ... it hurts, Earl ... I mean it! It's too small ... you're too big!" she cried, her eyes wide open in real agony now.
He ignored her, forcing inch after scorching inch up into her anus as he hugged her hips tightly in his barbarous attack and growled, "Push back, you bitch! Open up that ass or I'll use a crowbar on it!"
Fearing he was just crazy enough to do that, she forced herself to move back against him, feeling his hirsute thighs rub against her own buttocks. She gasped in burning pain as his prick slid smoothly into into her rectum, not stopping its boring entry until she felt her buttocks flatten to her hip bones and his wiry pubic hair grind hard against her ass. Nothing ... no deep breathing, no pain killer, nothing could make her forget the pulsatingly stiff cock boring deep into her most private parts!
The Mayor chuckled lewdly and throbbed his long, hard penis deep into the hole of her rectum. "Feel good, Cora? Feel as good as those Commie refugee cocks?"
Cora cringed as his snickers brought hot blasts of air to bathe her shell-like ear. She groaned as he began to saw rhythmically, mercilessly into the soft depths of her ravaged anus. Never had she felt so debased ... not even when the refugee had beaten her and later made love to her. No, not even then....
Earl Dillon licked his beefy lips, watching the tiny ridges of her pink, clasping flesh pull out with the base of his stalky cock every time it withdrew for another vicious, teeth chattering lunge back inside her buttery depths. This was it, this was his revenge for seducing his wife! Yeah, sweet revenge!
A few teeth rattling moments later, Cora felt his arms reaching down under her heaving belly and his fingers stroked her clitoris, fondling the knobby spike of flesh until an electrical tingle began to radiate out around it. To her utter amazement, that gentle touch heralded a change in her rectum. The pain had dulled to a throbbing pressure and, instinctively, she knew that if she reared back to meet those thrusts, it would feel even less painful. Anything to lighten the agony of the boring, gouging pain in her backside! She shoved back, grunting, meeting each one of his thrusts with one of her own.
The Mayor groaned and slapped Cora on the ass. "Move them buttocks, baby, yeah, that's the way to go!" And rotate she did, her nether ring clenching tightly around his cock.
Sweat rivered Earl's face as he stared in sadistic delight as his balls smacked lewdly against her tight cunt each time he sunk his prick to the hilt in her wide-split crevice. He had stopped fondling her clitoris and still she bucked. She was ready for it now ... the hot bitch would love it-hell, she wasn't complaining now, he realized as his eyes feasted on the wiggling buttocks and blue black pony tail swaying like a horse's mane from side to side as she worked frantically toward her orgasm.
"Ahhh! Gooodddd!" moaned the Colonel's captive wife as behind, he pressed forward as far as he could, pulling the soft cheeks of her ass wide apart to let his cock sink deeper. Pie just held it there, taunting her. She rotated her buttocks around the giant blood-filled head deep in her asshole.
With unending thrusts, he battered into her quivering ass. His balls throbbed almost painfully and his prick fely as though it were plugged into an electrical socket! Cora was moaning dementedly, her face flushed, eyes rolling in her head as she struggled toward her orgasm. This was the only way to end her torture, she rationalized, grinding her buttocks against the Mayor's crotch. I've got to make him cum ...!
He had her now ... he could do whatever he damned well pleased with this creature. Digging his cock into her ass, he left it there, hearing her cry and beg while he pushed and probed, moving it inside her in widening circles, knowing that unlike his frigid wife, he wouldn't have to stare at her face over a coffee cup in the morning.
"Ohhhhhaaaahhhh...." Despite her firm resolve to keep her pleasure to herself, Cora couldn't stop the low groans of pleasure-pain filling her backside. In answer, Earl rammed into her with a mighty thrust that seared up her roundly stretched anus like a sword of fire. He pulled back, rearing up like a stallion ready to mate. He pulled her back over his cock like he was pulling on a boot, causing the Colonel's wife to scream in a weirdly erotic mixture of pleasure and pain. She whined and wailed as he increased his strokes, boring deeper ... deeper....
And the boiling sperm began to churn and froth in his balls; his penis tingled, too, and he knew he couldn't hold out any longer.
Cora felt his giant cock grow and bloat until she thought it was going to rip her apart. "Oh God, please cum, please cum...!" she wailed in masochistic pleasure and fucked back against him until tears stung her eyes.
He gasped above her, his breath hissing from his lungs. He shoved forward with one valiant lunge that almost ripped the walls of her quivering belly and shot hot gushes of thick, white cream deep into the cringing depths of her rectum. It surged through her, warming her belly. Earl hissed through clenched teeth, bald head thrown back, and that did it for Cora!
Cora screeched a banshee wail as a great rush of something fantastic rippled through her. Her body convulsed and shuddered as she tumbled over the peak of lust. Gasping, his deflated and limp shaft withdrew from the sucking depths of her bowels. A wet, sucking noise sluiced the air as it slipped out from between the full white moons of her buttocks. A sudden rush of cool air in the wetness of her behind reminded her that she was still kneeling, buttocks waving vulnerably in the air.
She collapsed, a goosebumped mass of quivering flesh, panting into the sofa's cushion. One chocolate eye peeked open to see Mayor Dillon plunk in the leather chair; he was dabbing at creamy threads of sperm with his initialed linen handkerchief. The ugliness of it, the debasement, stung her cheeks.
Horrified at her nakedness, she snatched up her T-shirt and skirt and without modesty of brassiere or panties, she pulled her clothes over her messed up pony tail.
"You got what you came for, now get out! You can tell the Gazette I was raped, but the charge won't stick!" Beneath her clothing, her lithe body shuddered with revulsion and fear of what would happen if the charge stuck. One ugly mess ... Cora bit her lip.
The Mayor of Lawrence chuckled amusedly. "You and your Commie hubbie better learn who runs this town," he hissed, pulling on his yard-wide boxer shorts. "As for you, I'd start packing ... this town doesn't want stinkin' Cubans messing up the streets!"
The limpid brown eyes blazed with fiery hatred and rage. Her normally succulent lips drew into a tight line. "You won't last long in this town, Earl Dillon ... not after my husband hears about this!"
"Let him try to prove the charge ... just let him...."
CHAPTER TEN
Love, like everything else, has its boundaries, cogitated Cora philosophically, styding Leo's stern expression. She lifted her aching buttocks, throbbing still from Mayor Dillon's 'bargaining' penis, and flicked off the television set.
"Leo...?" she stammered in a tremulous voice. "I've got to talk to you."
The blue eyes that had been watching CBS Evening News lifted from the blackened screen to his wife's tear-glistening eyes. A mixture of hurt and fear met his questioning gaze.
Before beginning a well-memorized monologue, she studied with a cautious eye the little worry lines making crowsfeet under his wide-set Nordic eyes. His ruddy cheeks wore the pallor of worry and lack of sleep.
"Honey...." she began settling herself into the cor her of the sofa where hours before she'd lain victim to Mayor Dillon's raping attack. "I ... I wish I didn't have to tell you all this ... but it's been so God awful these past few days ... I ... I...." She wrung her hands, shaking her head until the shimmering topknot swung about her shoulders in a dance of misery. She held her breath, trying to still the tears running in humiliating streams down her flushed cheeks. The closer to the battle line, the more lucid the mind, oftimes.
Tat was Cora's response as she broke herself out of the cage of guilt and shame and confronted her husband; red polished fingertips swept dry the signs of her misery.
"I know what you're going to say, Cora." He, too, sucked in a deep breath. "If it's about Mayor Dillon paying off the Cuban refugees to...." and here he balked." ... to harrass you, I know about it ... and I'm very sorry I caused it to happen."
That little wedge of solace failed to calm the nerve wracked wife and with something akin to rage, she blinked incredulously at him and shrilled her wifely revenge. "You knew, and yet you did nothing to stop it? For God sakes, Leo, you're my husband! You've got a whole military base at your disposal, and yet you let them-"
Leo's eyes descended to his lap and he shook his head. "Honey, I didn't find out about it until today," he answered glumly. "It's not the only charge that will impeach Mayor Dillon, the stupid fool," he spat through pearly clenched teeth. "Besides hiring refugees to harrass you, he's carrying the sin of having involved himself in a welfare scandal. There's not more than two hundred dollars left in the city's welfare fund, thanks to his pinching fingers...."
"He did what? But ... but how? That one man could single-handedly hire three hapless, hungry refugees to rape and beat her-not to mention his ugly afternoon mission was unforgiveable, but to deprive people of their federal rights-" Cora's tiny hand flew to her mouth. "But what's going to happen to those hungry refugees? Somebody's got to feed them ...!"
Leo rubbed his aching forehead with massaging fingers. He turned his face away from his wife's probing gaze. "I don't know ... the federal government will have to intervene...."
"And the boys ... how did you ...?" She couldn't finish that damning statement.
The Colonel dipped into his uniform kakhis and hauled out a gold chain with a glimmering St. Christopher's medal weighting it. "I found this out in the front yard when I was clipping the crab grass last night. It didn't mean anything at the time, but today at the base one of the young guys-Carlos was his name-was making inquiries about a gold chain he'd lost. He was pretty literate with his description and I don't know too many people who wear stuff like this." Leo's mouth curled up in an attempt at a smile. "I'd heard rumors ... young, virile (the word stuck in his throat) boys have a hard time keeping their secrets to themselves ... especially when it involves a beautiful woman...."
"But ... how do you ... do you still want me?" she stammered, wincing inwardly at the damnation she felt deserving of.
"How could I blame you ... Christ," and here he shot up from his chair and raked strong fingers through his blonde waves. " ... I can't even get it up!"
That admission turned the tables of sympathy. A calmer Cora sat biting her lip, her face a smooth mask of acceptance as she waited for the punishment. The knot in her stomach tightened as she winced at his every word.
Leo began a tight pace about the living room. "I can't blame you, Cora, if you had to cooperate to save your life ... maybe you enjoyed it, I don't know." Abruptly he pounded a balled up fist into an open palm. "I can't detest you for making love to somebody else when I can't be a husband to you. ... rape or whatever it was."
Indeed, the image of his golden skinned wife laying quivering on his bed while a virile bodied Cuban not even old enough to drive a car, drove into his wife's needful vagina, wouldn't budge from his mind's eye. Could Cora, his loving, romantic wife, find pleasure in another man's cock ... boring into her crying belly, the belly he couldn't fill with more than a couple of pathetic fingers? "Of course" came the answer loud and clear. The strong bodied Colonel snickered at his self defeat.
"I'm sorry you had to be made a tool for this whole damned Cuban issue," he apologized, changing the subject to something less subjective. "If I hadn't brought you to this base, none of this would have happened, but I thought I could help, I really did ... and then that damned Earl had to foul things up for everybody."
"Worst of all himself and Joyce. He beats her, you know," put in Cora in a small voice.
"Yeah, that's what I've heard. The beast."
To confess to Mayor Dillon's assault would have sent the shivering Colonel over the brink of despair and, sensing this, Cora melliflously whispered up into his pale face: "Let's forget about the ugliness and concentrate on the goodness-between us." A salacious glint sprinkled her eyes and a seductive tongue tip jabbed out to wet her lips suggestively. She winked and cocked her head in the direction of the bedoom.
With the willingness of a dutiful wife, she undressed him, peeling off his shirt, his pants and tight fitting red jockey shorts. Now they lay on the bed, studying each other like newfound lovers, groping, caressing. Even after the last days' horrors, the Colonel's wife blushed a ruddy pink as she felt his eyes taking in the lush curves of her body ... with an intent stare damning reminiscent of Carlos.
He ran a fingertip over the rosebudded nipple a tongue's reach away. "I can't blame those refugees, you know that?"
Cora shivered, her eyes losing their glow. "What will happen to them, and your career, Leo ... I'm so worried about the gossip."
He snickered with confidence. "The federal government is capable of covering anything. As for the boys' bragging, it's just that-boy talk. In fact," and here he drew a deep breath, "if it hadn't been for the inspection tour Fa made of the latrines today where I heard them talking, I wouldn't have known about it. Eavesdropping, your husband eavesdropped on your privacy ... think you can tolerate that?"
"Then there's no scandal ... the Gazette won't report it?"
"If they do, I'll plant a bomb in their office" he assured, kissing her, silencing her fears.
"I love you, Colonel Nelson," she murmured as slowly, she trailed her red lacquered fingertips over his ruddy chest and down over his tight stomach until her fingers played in the wiry patch of his pubic hair. Pooching out her succulent lips and watching his glassy eyed expression, she caressed softly the blood filled maleness that poled out from his stomach. Slowly, she bent her head to plant soft kisses on the purple, mushroomed head of his delightfully lusty cock and twirled her tongue over the mushroomed tip. A moan of appreciation gurgled in his throat. At last she'd opened the Pandora's box of his sensuality! If that's what the Colonel wanted, then that's what the Colonel shall have! She stretched her lips over it, sucking it into the warmth of her buttery mouth.
Slowly, tantalizingly, her tight lips moved down the shaft, her pink tongue working as she lowered her head onto it, tasting the pungent tang of her husband's semen seeping from the tip.
"Ohhh Gawd, Cora, that's fantastic!" moaned the Colonel as the warm pressure of her lips and the skillfully licking tongue made him thrust his pelvis upward in a fucking motion, forcing all of it, down to its hairy base, into the sweetness of her mouth.
Cora's heart lept with joy from her husband's appreciative words and, holding his cock in one tiny fist, she eased down on his loins, drawing it steadily up and down through her open lips, twisting her tongue at the peak of each loving stroke.
As he raised his head to watch, the lust provoking sight of her flushed cheeks and the shimmer of blue black hair falling over shoulder ... the hollowing of her cheeks, drove him to a frenzy. She gasped and sucked harder as he began a rhythmic pounding into her mouth, crashing the huge muscled penis against the tender tissues of her throat. Her naked breasts quivered and billowed beneath as he slammed his groin into her lovely face, fucking her mouth with lustful fury.
Abruptly, the flexing ceased. "Do you like it when I get rough with you?" he hissed. "Is that what you like, Cora?"
To deny it would have been a lie. Cora nodded her head and grinned submissively as he ordered her onto her back. At last the Colonel was acting like a man!
Cora was ready for a man! Before he changed his mind, she flipped over onto her back, drew her legs up, her feet flat on the bed and dimpled knees pressed together. Then, with tantalizing slowness, she let her knees fall limply apart, showing off all of her pink lipped pussy. "Do it, Leo ... fuck me...."
"Jesus, you don't know how long I've wanted to do this!" he breathed, gazing down at the firm, golden body spread in a sensual feast just for him. "This is one hard-on that's gonna satisfy you ... I promise you that!"
They squirmed nakedly together for a magical moment, and then he crawled between her legs which she curled around his strong, slender hips as he groped down and pressed the bluntness of his cock between the swollen pink lips of her moist and begging cunt. With a deep grunt, he drove forward, making Gora groan in happy surrender and, tightening her arms around his neck, she pressed her open, wet lips against his, and with a deep moan, sucked his tongue deep into her mouth as she felt his huge driving cock bore into her belly.
"Ohhh ... Leooo!" she cooed, as she felt his bloated sacs of heavy cum smack against her satiny ass cheeks. She stretched her arms down until her hands clamped around his buttocks to cradle his balls, tickling them gently with her fingertips.
Leo levered up, bracing his weight on his elbows and stared hungrily down into the lovely face. He had begun to feel a tingle of resentment and green-eyed jealousy thinking of the Cuban refugees who'd satisfied her as he couldn't for too damned long. But the baby-sweet, childish face smiling up at him dissolved those unpleasantries.
Cora felt him withdraw his pulsing cock slowly, only far enough to make it rub maddeningly along the fiery walls of her pussy. With every ounce of strength, he fucked back into her. He started stroking in and out of her satin soft ass that pumped in matching tempo to his motions, her pelvis rotating as if on ball bearings, taking all of his sex-maddened hardness.
How glorious to be made love to by someone you love, she thought fleetingly, shedding fears of whips and humiliation. Never had she felt so free, so totally female. This was how it should be and always would be, she promised herself. Only the feeling mattered.
The colonel worked up a sweat as he drubbed into his wife's sucking pussy, slamming his prick deeper into her cunt until her cervix felt as if it were retreating for the selfish reason of getting more of him. She met him in mid-stroke each time. Her cuntal lips caressed as it sunk it, sucking and massaging him as it stroked outward. Below, Cora tossed her blue black hair in ecstasy, spreading her thighs wider to let her married cunt flower open and let the full nine inches of his pulsating masculinity sink into her belly.
Cora's body began rocking from right to left, adding variation to the up and down movements of her rotating hips. The sensation was fantastic, heightening pleasure. The breath whistled and rasped from her overworked lungs, and perspiration sheened her nudity as her pretty face scrunched up in lustful joy.
"I'm ... oh, Cora ... I'm ... cumming!" yelped Leo as she felt him pump madly into her seething pussy furiously.
In mindless ecstasy he babbled and she gurgled in joy, raising her tousled head to bathe his neck, his ears, his eyes in wet kisses, while gasping out jumbled words as she felt the boiling sperm pumping into her vagina. She worked every cuntal muscle she'd exercised in the past two days to milk him dry.
"Leo!" blurted her sultry voice. "Fill meee ...!" she whispered as the pace of his fucking increased and he writhed over her heaving body, the wetness of their juices making lewd slurping sounds as he thrust into her belly.
"Oh ... agghhh...." Leo watched his wife's lips move and twitch. Suddenly, she arched her back and gripping his buttocks, began to grind upward like a madwoman. He glanced down at her giggling breasts as they quivered and heaved, moving like hinges of a well oiled gate. He gritted his teeth and ground harder and deeper into her throbbing hole, watching as her beautiful features twisted with passion as her orgasm began to peak wildly.
"Aagggghhh ... eeeiiii!" she shrilled as the very core of her being flowered with love. Her legs quivered on either side of his strong shoulders. The bliss was unbearable, electrical! Her body twisted and thrashed beneath him, convulsing crazily as her cunt squirted its warm white lava down the sides of his burgeoning cock.
It seemed as if they'd been cumming for hours! Slowly, his penis deflated inside her, twitching as if regretful of leaving the warmth of her body ... finally it lay still, sticky against her thigh.
With tender love, she gazed up into his eyes, her own moist and filled with tears of relief, joy and a thousand other positive emotions roiling inside her body and mind. She felt the warm sperm seeping from her womb to trickle down her buttocks.
"Was that good for you?" he breathed, panting, his cheeks ruddy.
"The best I've ever had...."
"The Colonel's prick isn't dead after all," quipped Leo, rolling over onto his side and kissing her on her apple cheeks, moist and hot from the exertion of sweet orgasm.
"I'm happy to be your wife, Colonel ... even if you weren't here when I needed you most," she mewled, emitting a deep sigh and snuggling her cheek in the warmth of her husband's pulsing neck. Her red fingertips toyed with the curls on his chest, kinking with sweat. One traced the goosebumped flesh about his nipple.
She turned a serious face to him. "What's going to become of Mayor Dillon? You mentioned a welfare scandal...."
Leo emitted a disillusioned sigh. "He and a bunch of men from the county welfare department stupidly involved themselves in a scam. They put phony names into the computer and with accomplicing doctors, submitted phony medical claims and then split the money. Same with food stamps and grocerys. It's an old scam ... and you can make a mint."
"Unless you get caught."
"You're so smart, Cora."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Joyce Dillon's bleached blonde hair, showing none of its characteristic telltale roots, tossed recklessly as she rolled down the car window and rested a tanned arm the color of prairie wheat on the hot sill. Nimbly her fingers turned to a top forty rock station and, pumping the accelerator of her 1980 Porsche, she headed for the army base refugee camp.
Today was Wednesday, the day she offered her charitable good cheer to the Lawrence, Kansas army base recreational center for adolescent refugees. Singlehandedly, she masterminded a campaign to buy for next to nothing a couple of pool tables whose tattered green was considered unusable by the Johnson Pool Hall in town. After a behind closed doors meeting with the local distributor for Coca-Cola, she'd managed to finangle (with typical pre-Dillon zeal), seventeen cases of soda to fill the cooler each week ... which amounted to approximately three cans of cola per day for each adolescent between the ages of three and twenty-one, as she'd calculated it.
But what was a woman to do? Husband sitting behind bars at a detention prison, leaving her with an empty house, unused swimming pool, two cars of 1980 vintage and a pocketbook full of credit cards, what had a blonde haired divorcee to do with free afternoons? No more sitting around watching soap operas, guzzling wine, and getting depressed for this lady!
Like losing fifteen years off my life, she marveled, meshing the gears and zipping through the army base security gate with a nod of her blonde head. The guard waved her through; the ex-Mayor Dillon's wife had become a notable fixture at the refugee camp. Everyone recognized her flashy ovaled sunglasses and windblown blonde hair. Even the Gazette, famous for its anti-Dillon stance, granted her a favorable full page interview in the Sunday edition, heading it: "Joyce Dillon ... the Sister Teresa of the Refugee Camp."
The Federal Sponsorship Program was in full swing, and none hired more boys to clean her basement, scoop the leaves from her swimming pool, and scrub her floors than Joyce Dillon.
"What did she get out of it?" the Gazette queried.
Joyce twirled a blonde wave around a red lacquered fingertip, a crooked grin creasing her rouged lips ... her mind reeling back to the afternoon romp in Colonel Nelson's bed (poor man!). "Let's just say I've got a lot to make up for...."
