Squeaky-clean sheared cunt lips slipped from within fresh underpants. She danced the scented powder puff from underneath her shaven armpits, between her tits, over her hairless buns, and down into her fluffy muff. Life was tough.
Here she was-born in the United States of America, after all, and with a college education that involved extreme sacrifice in her social life-and on countless occasions she had been treated as though she were a lowly spic bitch.
The way of the world?
She knew it need not be that way.
She rubbed the powder to a creamy sheen about her boobs. Buffed her butt to brightness. Snapped her panties back up.
Slithered into a circle-stitch brassiere with pushup half-cups. Tangoed into a tight red dress.
Yes. She was acting the part of a Latin harlot. But it was for a good cause. The best. Her heritage. Her family. Sort of.
The phone bleeped.
"Hello? Gato? Yes, my cousin-my brother. I knew it was you. I know what I am to do. I flirt with Cartier-Bischoff. Play with him. Keep his mind occupied. I won't have any trouble-I've been fighting him off almost every fucking day anyway."
He spoke slowly, making sure she held onto every word, repeating it to her for her to repeat to him:
"I won't go anywhere, Gato. Wait for you and Macho Camacho to arrive-to deliver the stuff you are bringing from Mexico. I think Cartier-Bischoff already made out a check to El Pluton yesterday. He is expecting you both to be around there, so that shouldn't cause any question. If I keep him tied up he won't know anything is going on at all."
She leaned her head to the side, rested her body languidly against the wall of her small boudoir chamber. Gato jabbered aimlessly over the wire. She couldn't listen to him any longer and smoked up a cigarette taken from a case full of herbal smoking mixture she had rolled up earlier.
"I know," she blew. "I played it like a game from the beginning-I already told you-I never used my name. Just the one you said to. Cartier-Bischoff knows me as Juanita and I never mentioned you or Macho Camacho to him. Never."
She stabbed the smoldering butt out into a seashell ashtray. Blew the remnant smoke fumes away from her face.
"I can get through it okay. Say, Gato. You think I should take maybe a knife along? Self-defense in case anything gets out of hand. I have a good blade that slips out of this-it's like a halter."
She slinked out her fingers and picked up the sheaf of cylindrically rolled papers filled with locoweed. Munched another of her cigarettes.
Lit it.
Sucked it deeply and blew out plumes through her nose and mouth lips.
"If it goes okay," she brayed, "maybe we can go on vacation-huh?"
She hung up and hummed. Tried not to think of a thing as she pulled her hair back and took a crack at her face in the mirror.
Long lean profile of nose and chin. Deep relief on either side of the cheekbones. Neck straight and fluted like a classical column. Two tits, tight and pyramidal, tapering to dart-like tips on her chest. Waist thin as a hair, navel outlined through the thinness of her dress-perched there like the eye of a needle.
Narrow but mushrooming hips, insinuating ass-cheeks, narrowing quickly into comely spider-leg gams with finely boned ankles from which flipped two sets of toes begging to be sucked through the openings at the tips of her high-heeled fuck-fuck-fuck-me pumps.
She couldn't resist and raised the hem of her dress up. Yanked her undies down. Ran her fingers through the moistening down.
There she was.
Asshole whining to be tongued.
Peach-like twat hot for the fuck.
She bucked her butt once for practice.
Tractioned her clitoris with a thumb to see how it looked when it stood up.
And thinking about leading on a man like Cartier-Bischoff actually-at first to her embarrassment-turned her on.
*****
She crinkled her brow as she drove along the freeway on the outskirts of Los Angeles. Thought a lot about what she was going to do-even though-especially because-she was trying not to.
Her car ground to a halt in the gravel parking lot in front of the freestanding openwork architecture of the Cartier-Bischoff Studios.
She snicked a light to a cigarette. Held it in one side of her yip as she skipped toward the rear entrance of the complex. She huffed the butt of the cigarette out. Snagged on a clean apron over her dress. First put a lot of water on to boil over the flames of a stove.
Inspected the pile of tortilla masa piled up for her to attend to-to press out into circles and grill on top of the comal. Piling up dozens of tortillas for the breakfast and brunch Cartier-Bischoff ate and would regularly and cordially offer his clientele-though they usually just accepted a drink while coming to a decision regarding their purchases.
"Juanita," the voice came over her back. "I see on the agenda today-you are preparing some treats for the students during their break?"
"Yes," she said, not looking at him.
"I think this new series of seminars will eventually pull in good buckseducating their taste in art so as to inform their purchases when later they buy from us-we won't necessarily even show a profit on these lecture sessions, not with all the expenses, the reception this afternoon-particularly considering the quality of the refreshments."
"Yes."
She patted out tortillas.
His eyes went up the backs of her calves. Gaze groped up the insides of her thighs. Peepers pipped into the unseen crack of her ass.
In his imagination he gripped her tits from in back. Tugged them out.
She reached behind and pulled his cock out.
Aimed it for him. Wanted him to pump her. Expressed a desire for him to sleep with her in a waking state.
Make love to her.
Screw her.
Fuck her.
He stuck it into her cunt from the back. She began to buck like a stuck pig. He rutted quickly and came instantly-gallons of jizzom flowing from the nodes of his nuts into her quim.
And then-with him still hard-he had her in the mouth, in the ass, and in the cunt again. But it was only his fantasy.
"I see you're dressed flashy for the occasion today, Juanita. Red dress. High heels."
"You like?"
She turned her head over her shoulder toward him. Eyes widened innocently and ears pulled back like a puppy.
Mouth popped open in a circle like a guppy.
"I like it very much, Juanita. Shame you've got a splotch on it."
"This fucking kitchen," she blurted out. Snot flew from her snout. "I'm sorry, Mister Cartier-Bischoff. But you know-I have degrees in art history. Comparative essays I wrote for my thesis. And now I cook and wash dishes."
She jerked her head around.
Wiped the tears piping from the sides of her almond-shaped eye slits. Whipped her apron off.
"Shit," she sighed. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm finished. You'll fire me."
"Juanita-please come with me. Into my office. I think I should have a private chat with you. I do. And something else too. Not just because of this. I've been thinking about something special for you since you began working for me-for the studios."
She snuggled next to his shoulder as he led her dance-like from the kitchen through the dark pastel hallways past rooms for the viewing of sculpture and paintings for sale, salons where groups of students of all ages sketched out travesties of the nude models posed before them.
Cartier-Bischoff turned her tenderly around the corner from the museum display space and through to his personal suite of offices.
Curtains of potted palmettos, rubber trees, and sprays of wild orchids wove the impression of a rainforest across the wide bank of picture windows.
Deep reddish-patterned rugs on glossy floors. Art, ancient and modem, peppered the walls, adorned niches and stalls, and stood on pedestals.
See-through smoked-glass desk rested upon a low dais of marble.
"Have a seat, my dear. May I select you a drink from this table," he said without a question mark as though it were an order.
He picked up a deep-patinaed crystal decanter nearly filled with a viscous amber fluid through which large lazy bubbles urped to the surface.
"On the desk top, if you please," he said to her as he totted out two large dollops of the thick liquid into hefty goblets.
She saw trapped globules of gas edge up toward the surface of the liquid and pop, leaving a froth of greenish scum foaming continuously on top.
Her fanny touched the cool glass of the desktop. Cheeks spread as her hiney came to rest. Her dress hiked up higher, baring more flesh.
She crossed her legs at the knees. Entwined her ankles and feet around each other. One shoe hung from her toes.
A rush of redness covered Cartier-Bischoff's head as he observed her intently, the flush to his face highlighting his colorless eyes as he spoke:
"I have indeed been aware of your education, Juanita. What you have lacked is experience. I believe the time is correct to create another opportunity for you here at the institute."
"Your office is cute. I've never been in here before. I adore the figurines and masks-from your personal collection? Some of the best stuff I've seen here. Ceremonial ballgame equipage and laughing heads from the Veracruz classical tradition. Nice."
"Quite. Here, my sweet. Drink this."
He held her by the forehead. Snapped her cranium back laxly. Her jaws popped open. He poured the drink over her lips and her lower rack of teeth. Observing the way her tongue lolled speechlessly.
"What is that stuff," she said pointedly.
"My own concoction."
"Tastes good."
"Indeed-brandy from desert-grown grapes. Infused with a thickened tincture made from jimsonweed, morning glory seeds, and buttons of the peyote cactus."
"Kind of like mezcal or tequila."
"In a sense--the overall process is similar, and then again very much like-you know, the absinthe that was once popular among the French artists."
"Didn't it fuck up their vision?"
"This isn't like that."
"Will I go schizo?"
"If so, you should keep in mind-even if you lose it-hawhaw haw-that it's all in your head. Even if you think you're dead-remember that you're not in hell. It is but an illusion. like everything else in life."
"Waaaaah!"
His hand snapped out. She saw his eyes as two lit slits as he hit her. Sni-iishck!
"Ow! You hit me, Cartier-Bischoff. You shit."
"Shut the fuck up, you little spic bitch."
He smacked her across the kisser. Drove her lips into her incisors repeatedly. Moved his body into hers, warping her down onto the edge of the desk with her legs dangling.
"Take off your clothes," he said as his hands roved the hollows and furrows of her hide. "I said take your fucking clothes off. Strip."
"Can't you do that for me?"
"I don't want to have to horsewhip you, Juanita. The very thought of it makes me shudder. But I'm afraid I'll have to. Get moving."
"I don't think I can do this."
Juanita sat up on the edge of the desk and pulled the moist tendrils of her hair back from her face. She tasted a trace of blood at the inside edges of her mouthlips.
She had never done anything like this before.
But she could do it.
It was for a good cause. Gato was a cultural ethnologist who taught at a branch of the university-she had met him when she was taking classes there. A light workload on a nontenured track left
Gato a lot of time for leisure pursuits befitting the modern academic: Gato was on a circuit involved with international smuggling and sales of antiquities that were actually fake.
Gato never told her directly of course. But she knew all about that scam. Cartier-Bischoff Studios was one of his better customers.
Gato's next caper appeared to be of a different wrinkle. Macho Camacho was a colleague of Gato who was a partner in an independent archeological consultation firm operating out of Mexico City.
With his sinewy speed and quickness, Macho Camacho's demonstrations of martial arts forms he had derived from the Yaqui, Apache, Azteca, Maya, and Spanish renaissance dueling traditions were noteworthy displays of dance-like murderous grace that featured daggers, stilettos, stone-bladed warclubs, rapiers, sabers, several different sizes and shapes of machetes, as well as modern firearms.
He was presently commissioned to act as an investigator on behalf of an international foundation that was working out a plan to discover and eventually to recover artifacts originally stolen from their country of origin.
Macho Camacho and Gato would inspect and catalog, as well as they could, Cartier-BischofFs secret collection of pre-Columbian Mexican art-his personal selection that was kept from display, stored in his warehouse-while Cartier-Bischoff played doctor-in-the-house with Juanita. Their report to the agency was to be highly confidential.
And no one would suspect the part Juanita had played. A little elaborate, perhaps-she had insisted she herself could inspect Cartier-Bischoff s collection on the sly, but they had told her time was of the essence. It was an inspired plot.
And her payday would be good enough for her to take a few months off to look for another job. With her new credentials-she hadn't mentioned this to Gato or Macho Camacho, but surely they could tip her off onto a new gig for herself. Perhaps one more fulfilling than cooking and doing dishes. like a lot of other spic bitches.
With no further thought, she prepared her mind for the fuck-suck-rut. It would be fun.
Cartier-Bischoff opened a full-length hardwood closet built into the wall. Took hold of a coiled and oiled tapered length of leather.
"That's better already, Juanita," he said as she discreetly removed her high heels.
"Makes me feel loose," she said nodding to the stuff in the decanter. "I feel like I should be giggling. Even when you hit me."
She readily stripped her dress off up over her head. Tossed it off in a breeze.
Watched him watch her.
Was this the way it was supposed to go?
She didn't know.
Never having done this-or anything like it before. A little fumbling, bumbling, buffoonery on her part would be called for. She shouldn't appear anything like a tramp.
"Leave your halter necklace on, Juanita. I admire the way it trims your rib cage. Sets the stage for all the fluffy stuff.
"Fluffy stuff?"
"I have a surprise for you."
"Another one?" her voice hovered. "I love drinking this. Yummy and thick."
Her brassiere and panties gave way to her phalanges. It felt good inside as she pulled her tits out from her rib cage and felt them snap back into place and jiggle.
She wiggled her legs together. Naked ass squeaked against the glass desk top. Cuntjuice squirted out of her underbelly pout.
"Another drink," he said tersely, filling and hoisting two more glasses full. He clinked hers cursorily and mumbled a toast.
She saw his eyes roam over her bare flesh as he slipped priggishly from his pants and jacket. Stretched off his undergarments and, as though concealing his hard-on, strapped on a leather loincloth with his back toward her.
"I think that looks great," she breathed vapidly. "Can't wait to see your face."
He snatched up a pile of feathers and spotted animal skins studded with carved pieces of polished black and blue-green stones. "Put this on."
"It looks like feathers and leather-animal skins. Shiny stones-carved bones. What is it?"
"Animal skins trimmed with feathers and painted leather. Decorated with incised ornaments of obsidian and jade. What does it look like-a fucking sweatsuit?"
"You're cute when you're mad."
"You're a bitch-and you're had."
Cartier-Bischoff trashed the outfit once across her face. Slammed it into her boobs and pusskins. She sullenly wrapped the garments about her-it didn't seem to matter much which way they went on.
"We are in the jungle now," he said casually. "The desk top is an altar. We are deities. Gods we both are, Juanita. Our love is divine. Eternal."
"Mind if I finish this drink first?"
"Lay upon the altar of our love. No-with your legs hanging off. Cheeks up."
He licked his lips as she slipped from the top of the desk and stuck her buttocks out toward him.
Cartier-Bischoff took hold of his prick and yanked it from the pouch of his loincloth. Slinked out a nine-foot whip.
Twitched it against her ass.
"Ye-eee-eeeee!"
Crisply. Shla-aaack!
He gave her a series of slow whacks, not one of which actually hurt, but which with expert and precise application induced parallel lines of weals to rise on both sides of her haunch.
Stippled striations running up the backs of her calves and her thighs.
Red welts pelting her ass-cheeks.
"Feels good," she slid from her lips.
Maybe if this part took long enough, she could get away without having to fuck him. But now she found herself thinking she might like it.
She wanted to fuck him.
To suck his cock.
Get him to go off inside her.
She was almost but not quite sorry she would have to betray him. Especially since he was now offering her a new job-it seemed, though he had not yet gotten specific-a position more suited to her qualifications.
"Spread them cheeky-cheeks wide," Cartier-Bischoff yowled. "I want to whip up your insides. Snip the tip of the whip between your cunt lips. Clip your clit."
She let go of herself and exploded inside. Incipience of climax seeped through her hide.
"You are the goddess," he spoke harshly, in a whisper like the wind. "The moon maiden. The earth nymph. I am the warrior god of sun and the thunder."
"Split me asunder."
He attacked her hinders with the whip, cracking it like bursts of a storm. Warmth and wetness and drizzling sounds swirled around her ass-cheeks, her blowhole, the entrance to her cunt.
She turned her head around.
"What--? "
Took piss in the mouth. Cartier-Bischoff sent a streak of urine directly into her snout. Buzzed twinkling tinkle into her eyelids.
"I-didn't know-how can you do this?"
"Kiss my piss," he said through blistering lips. "The mist of the mountains-steam of the jungle rainforest. You know the legend of the Ixtab. The blessed demoness of the Yucatan Maya?"
"How does that go again?" she said quavering orgasmically.
"Ixtab awaits her prey, laying in the arms of a jungle tree. When a sultry man passes by underneath she drops upon him. Fucks him in place and then turns into a snake and strangles him."
"And?"
Piss steamed from the tip of his whanger in a rainbow arc of gilt and silver and clear sparkling waters. The last shivers of piss dappled down the nates of her hinders.
"That's all?" she bawled. She had suddenly come to love the tingle of piss upon her lips and cheeks. "Maybe we should drink some more."
Cartier-Bischoff spoke crisply as he refilled their drinks:
"And of course there is she who inhabits the woodlands of Veracruz. You know my friend Macho Camacho? You've overheard me talking to him on the phone I know. He says he's actually seen women like this in the forest. Calls this fictional nymph Guadalupe the Suckstress-or, more familiarly, Lupita la chupita-she gives blowjobs. Sucks men off and at the moment of orgasm their balls fall off."
She coughed: "Why don't you write a book about it, you shnook. I'll help you with the feminist viewpoint. Cunt slit who hangs around eating men in the jungle. Does she do women too?"
"If her kind exists-I imagine she wouldn't stop at anything, now-would she?"
"Why don't you whip me again. I mean-as long as we're only talking."
Cartier-Bischoff balked.
Cocked his ears.
"I hear something."
"This is a busy place, Cartier-Bischoff. Don't waste this chance. You may never get my pants off again. How can you resist? I have you whip me. Then I drink your piss. The least you can do is fuck me. Suck me till I come again."
She shivered with rut sweat. Had she said that?
Why had she said that? And why had she allowed him to do what he had done? Surely she could have resisted, but she hadn't even tried. Was she a changed woman, or was something in her-that had always been in her-just now coming out?
A decorative ratchet twisted over by the back entrance to the office. A pair of doors twisted away from a frame inset into the wall.
"You weren't supposed to do this," slimed from her lips. She had almost forgotten-yes-she had forgotten-the reason for her getting into this in the first place. But since then-even since she had been in this office, taking fingers and piss in each and every orifice-things had changed.
She was different.
And the rules and the game were changing with every instant.
What looked at first like two mummified human corpses snapped down from the closet shelves. One gloved hand held a long-barreled automatic pistol. Another set of shoulders slung down a dark thick barrel of a silenced fully automatic assault rifle.
"You go ahead and fuck that twist," a voice billowed out from underneath a stiff canvas mask. "Go on. Continue. I insist. Put that pecker in her. Fast. Into the cunt. Up the ass."
The assault rifle came up and pointed toward Cartier-Bischoff's face. Traced a line down to his thundering cocktip. Wove a circle about his nuggets.
Scanned an arc toward the apex of the triangle of her haunch.
Cartier-Bischoff stepped in between her legs. First he engaged her engorged clitoris. Rubbed the pricktip around her pubic forest.
"Uuuuunh."
He stuck his dick into her pussy. Got it all gushy. Yanked it out.
Snouted it between her buttocks.
Rutted once and the head squealed in past the rim of her anus. Asshole ate at his cock about the neck-unbearably tight. Deliriously hot.
Cartier-Bischoff withdrew his penis from her rump and pumped the length with his paw as he witnessed the two intruders-taking turns covering him and the languid Juanita-watching the two men select from among the finer artifacts in his possession, wrap the pieces and slide them into individual sacks of burlap and suede.
She saw the cagey look in Cartier-Bischoff s eyes as, without a word, he slid his pecker again inside her pussy. Jabbed it once or twice into her tush. Climbed upon her boob cage and spiced up her nipples with dribbled of cuntcome and assoils from the head of his penis.
"Jee-zuss."
He squeezed his cock into her mouth, pushing and pulling it in and out. She clamped her teeth about the tip. Turned her head sideways so that the silent masked men could see her actions clearly.
How she had made herself dissolute in order to help them to the completion of their mission.
She clenched cockhead between tight teeth. Twisted her head from side to side. Sucking dick hard with bellowing bloated facecheeks, and mouthlips puckered assholishly.
She blew his dong.
Suckled his hawg.
Spat Cartier-BischofFs prick from her jaw as she saw Gato and Macho Camacho finish packing up several larger carvings taken from pedestals in niches on the walls.
"You weren't supposed to do this," she mumbled foolishly. "This is a fucking set-up."
In silence, the men took off down the hall, securing the door behind them.
She pulled the knife blade loose from her halter necklace. Rubbed the edge across her nippletips as she sucked Cartier-Bischoff s stinger. Blew him until the jizzom skipped from his penis like fish.
"Mmmmm."
"You like come, dear one."
"Yum."
Jizzom hung from the sides of her maw like jowls. A sliver of cockslime grimed from between her front teeth and ran like a spider down her chin. Drooped and snapped off onto her bosom.
She rubbed the unguent of prickjuice into her skin. Spread his scum over her boobflesh with the edge of her knife. Caressing her tits coated with perspiration and piss and jizzom.
"I'll go get them," she said leadenly. "They fucked me up, Cartier-Bischoff. Tried to get me to fuck you. Before I knew-what-what you really thought of me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean this to happen. I was used. We can get the police."
He sliced her backhand across the facecheeks. Spat furiously into her mouthlips. Gripped her wrists. Twisted her knife from her grip.
"What's the pretty titty-knife for?" he said searingly. "Trying to throw me off a little, huh? Well, you've had your fun. Armed robbery. That's enough for most people. Can't let you get away with murder too-can we?"
"I'm not really involved in this-not like you think. Not for those reasons."
"You whore. You were in on it from the first. You fucked him. Fucked your brother Gato-or cousin or whatever he is. You fucked the other one tooMacho Camacho-didn't you. I got a little note from El Pluton that told me to watch out for that one. It was a setup all right."
"You knew? You scum."
"The authorities will be here-should be here now. Gato and Macho Camacho will be going downtown. How about you?"
"What do you want me to do?"
"Come clean. Plea bargain. You might get off on probation if I put my recommendation through the proper channels."
"What's the alternative."
"You'll do a stretch inside. You'll be sucking jailhouse pussy instantly, I guarantee-and within hours you'll turn into a mad rabid dyke bitch whining for clit."
"I can get out on bail."
"You and Gato and Macho Camacho too. Then what will you do? Hang around-you can't blow town waiting to go to trial. I mean you can-but once you do that, cuntlet, it's all over. Your kind is out of this country for good."
"I'm a citizen."
"You're kidding. How about your two Latin loverboys there? Bets are that they'll high-butt it off to Rio or Bolivia or Colombia-whatever's the in-place for hoodlums to roost this season. Want to spend the rest of your life like that?"
"It won't happen. I'm really innocent."
"Bullshit."
"At least not guilty."
"That may be. The eyes of the law are awfully cloudy. But don't let that go to your head."
"You want me to be your sex slave instead."
"Good guess."
"I think I take my chances elsewhere."
His words hung in the silence like another strand of sticky cum hanging from her chin. She waited.
TWO
Juanita la Sucia. Dirty Juanita. That was how the sign ran-the name and accompanying caricature of mask-like female face-at once human and feline and serpentine-rising above blooming pointed pyramidal bazooms, mushrooming rut-worthy thighs, with trail of tears sliming from the labyrinthine slit.
Portrait of the lady of the place. In former days. Coincidence-that name.
Dirty Juanita: Was this whorish sobriquet intended to be mean? Provocative? Filthy?
It got attention all the same.
Scrawled and smeared as it was in dust-covered reds of lipstick and rouge upon a flap of dry paperboard looking disheveled and worn as the ghost town whore whose favors the sign had once touted. Thus providing the one who was currently in residence with a name to cover the identity she had discovered immediately upon her arrival out here amidst the rubble of the abandoned adobe bungalow off the road in the wide-open spaces of the arid borderland.
The man looked long, lean, and mean as a scar as he read the lettering on the sign, appearing to squint, while perched high in the seat of his four-wheel-drive desert vehicle.
From where she swayed in the shade of the unscreened bungalow portico she could see the length of his prick outlined in high relief through his jeans as he dismounted from his Jeep-cock coiled like an oiled horsewhip or a rattlesnake about to strike.
She could almost taste it.
Smoky and hot.
Ready to sear in the hotbed of coals that was her twat.
She licked her lips, not surprised at how little moisture there was in her yip. Despite the overflow of juices in her loins below.
She ran her thumbs over her breasts. Caressing herself casually.
Her tits were tight. And she felt the sizzling shooting from her quim. Cutting through her insides like a knife.
"You're Juanita, I guess," he half-shouted without waving or tipping his hat.
Was he the one she was waiting for? She was not sure. But she thought not. He was not the one she wanted to come. But he was someone. And he was coming for her.
She tried to think of nothing-to clear her mind for action as she spoke, sounding matter-of-fact and not either tentative or expectant:
"Nice weather for the Gila monster, huh?"
"Dirty Juanita-as I live and breathe. Nasty name. That lady can't be you-can she?"
"How about that," she said blowing smoke from an unfiltered cigarette through unevenly dilated nostrils. "So you can read."
"Smart for a lawman, I am."
He was now out from underneath the canvas canopy of the Jeep. His body rustled and squeaked as he moved-not his body, rather the things he carried with him-in his hands and attached to him.
She glanced at the sheaf of papers in his fist. Ran her eyes around his loins and his chest and his armpits, gauging the armamentarium at his disposal. Knife at his side. Short wide sawed-off shotgun cocked akimbo from one wrist angling up from the hip. Shoulder holster moist with sweat depending snugly from his armpit with the butt of a heavy revolver visible.
"You're no law," she said smugly. "Let's see your star. I can tell those phony things they try to pass off." She snorted and belched.
Surprised herself with her internal calm. Was she actually doing this? Was this fortitude born of desperation or what?
She tightened the sphincters of her twat and ass-hole as he flipped out a wallet of scratched fake pebbled-surface leather featuring a slightly corroded nickel-colored escutcheon with security specialist stenciled underneath pinned next to a plastic-coated photo identification card.
She read it and sniffed:
"Marlborough-ritzy name," said she.
Her dressing gown fell open.
Traces of red-edged nipple tips blipped out between the lapels.
Slants of powdered scented skin ran up from underneath. Tasseled thatch peeking out from lightly lingeried thighs that through all the frilly froufrou threw out hints about the aroused nature of the flouncy flocculence beneath.
She was actually doing this-she tried not to tell herself. Acting is though she had been a whore all along-a harlot for eons.
"Process server," she slurried unhurriedly. "You know what they call you? Repo man. Do all kinds of work, I bet you do. Important stuff, too. Direct traffic at a shopping mall parking lot on weekends? Bouncer at the county camy fair."
"I've been there," he stared.
She snotted out a cool blast of cigarette smoke that wove through her dank tresses as she spoke:
"So you think you're a bigshot Bogart imagine romantic private detective. Knight on a noble errand. Strong arm of justice."
"I'm none of those," he gloated.
"But at least you get to show your guns."
"I happen to be doing a piece of work now for a bail bondsman." He cocked his head back. "Maybe you know one." Looked down his narrowed nose toward her through narrowed eyeslits.
"All you do," she said to him lewdly through lips screwed tightly around the blistering butt of a cigarette, "is go after pimps and harlots and hustlers-and snapping dirty pictures of adulterers. Must be fun work. Stimulating. Intellectually, I mean, of course."
"I'm in it for the money."
"Even better-a mercenary-freelance. Have phony badge and you will travel."
"Well-to be truthful-there's not really too much of that old scratch involved, not for me anyway-not considering the danger and stress and all that you get when you're involved in this profession-you know how that game is run-right, Juanita?"
"I think I play a version of it once or twice."
"You see, Juanita. I get a commission on recovering people like you who jump bail."
"Bounty hunter," she blew out. Croaked: "Just a cowboy you are. like the gringos in the Old West, huh? Out of the movies, cutie? You should have gone to Hollywood instead-not come here."
"I know my place. I work out of Los Angeles. That's how I was put onto your case. I invite you to return with me freely-of your own volition."
"You got papers? A warrant? Backup?"
"I got papers. Don't need a warrant. I'm my own backup. I'm fully authorized. Even to take you across state lines. Of course if I'd let you get across the border on me-let you meet up here with your bravos tonight like you planned to and slide acrossthe rules of the game would be a little different but the same object pertains. Nothing for you to gain by pestering me."
"I wouldn't do that intentionally."
"You can't do that even by accident. It's dangerous, I'm telling you, Juanita. Getting me angry-and it's easy when I'm overheated. This is the devil's weather anyway. So they say. Not religious myself-not that way."
"Any conditions?"
"Just don't bitch too much," he grinned evenly and with open humor. "We'll get along just fine."
"I should-uh-freshen up first-huh? Long ride back to the city-uh?"
"I'm not religious-like I said-but I am superstitious. I believe it is bad luck for me to let you out of my sight-even for an instant."
"Won't you come inside with me while I get my things together?"
"Mighty kind of you to offer."
He walked past her-smelling her-and took a hard look around the dark interior. Nodded toward her to enter but she already had.
She stepped back into the shadows from the desert glare and faced away from him. Toward the open commode that served both as a seat for the latrine and for attending to the toilet. She moved the position of the cracked mirrored pane of glass so that she could see him fully reflected in silhouette in the dimness behind her.
She threw open her robe.
Drew open her makeup kit.
Parted her mouthlips. Heard the snick of her cunt lips as she shifted her hips.
She outlined and then filled in her lips with two colors of red-one dark and earthy and deep and one with bright reflective highlights.
Traced the edges of the nipples to both her taut tart-like tits in lipstick. Applying it thickly and working it into the tips, which hardened and grew hotter. As she watched him watch her.
Nippletips tapered into dart-like points at the peaks of the conical projections of firm flesh from her boobcage. Pyramidal nippletips accented in crimson.
She smiled to herself as she quirked the bullet-shaped cannikin of lip gloss lower.
Coloring herself to intensify the redness of her hotspots.
"Won't need to get all made up," he said laxly. "Not many will be impressed where we're going."
"Oh, I know. I just want to feel better about myself. This helps."
She tucked her heels up underneath her buttocks. Angled her pelvis upward and the frilled slit of the crotchless crotch parted.
She drubbed her thumb in.
Slid the lipstick about with expertise matched by her affected diffidence.
"You wouldn't have anything to drink on you," she said aimlessly.
"Outside in the Jeep. Maybe I'll let you have some as we mosey along out of here. The faster you get ready, the quicker it'll be you get that taste."
She pinched herself at the waist underneath the cape of her gown.
Played around with her garters.
Unclipped the safety of the two-barreled derringer tucked tight into the crack of her tush. Thumbed the butt of the miniature repeating pistol worn as an unseen accent to her garter.
He looked at her askance as she riffled through her makeup kit again. '
"Here, baby doll. Let me see that."
He bent over toward her. Filched through the zipped kit and came out with a slender stiletto slid into a sheath-looking like a imagine nail file.
"Whoa," he said happily. "What's this? I can't believe I didn't frisk you."
"What's stopping you now?"
"Professionalism."
"You don't think I have enough clothing on to have anything more on me?"
"Not unless you got it stowed up somewhere inside yourself."
He blushed.
She turned toward him, torquing her trunk and halfway facing him with her clenched knees.
"Frisk me," she said. "Pretty please."
"I don't like it when my job is made more difficult. And that most definitely includes attitude. Yours. You already know mine, and that won't change. Yours you can rearrange."
"I already did. I'm horny is all. Horny as a horned toad and hot as this hell of a desert too. For you, my Marlborough."
"I don't screw around with the personnel I'm handling."
"Usually, you mean."
"With my clientele everything has to be on the up and up or I fall dawn."
"There's a lot of that goes around. But who knows if I don't tell?"
"You know that it won't help you get out of this."
"But it might help me kind of relax into it. I'm not worried. I'll get off-eventually-maybe on appeal. But then maybe you think they all think that-but me, I'm really innocent. And they all tell you that, too-huh?"
"I'll nod in the affirmative to that, Juanita. On all counts."
Marlborough yawned.
Rubbed his eyes. Shot into his crotch with two fingers to loosen up the nuggets and get the juices flowing.
He took one step back.
Placed his shotgun against the wall. Patted the piece under his arm. Etched the tip of her stiletto underneath one of his fingernails and trailed it into the looped leather facing of the sheath of his own hunting knife.
"Keep this little toy knife of yours on me for safekeeping," he said. "I guess you want me to retreat out there and get you some of that whiskey. Well, surprise and cheers. I just happen to have a flask on me."
He drew a nearly full pint out of his hiney pocket and brought it to his lips. Drank quickly and snapped it from his yip.
Alcohol spattering as he coughed.
Jabbed the bottle into her trap.
Drew his lips back into a narrow smile tight across his teeth. Breathed slowly.
And beheld her in full closeness and glory.
The subtle tones and textures of her flesh. And spicy saline scents.
He saw most of her boobs and the nudeness of her legs through stockings and factory-weave imitation Spanish lace that was not too dirty.
Natural colors and those with which she had painted herself.
Spots and dots and lines and striations of scarlet and vermilion and carmine-tones at once both fleshy and bright-of the juices of life.
Translucent crystalline buffwhite paste layered lightly over her face.
Claws on her hands and footpaws tinted to match her mouthlips, asscrack, twat.
She sucked the amber fluid from the rim of the bottleneck. Ran her tongue in and out. Clicked her teeth against the glass.
Lanced her gaze to his hinders.
Slid her hand between his legs. Patted his nates through the back of his pants. Traced his warm perineum through the crotch, running her thumbs from his ass-hole to the back of the bull shit.
SHe strutted her extended fingertips across the wad of his scrotum and drew her phalanges up the length of the pecker toward the tip.
"Uuuuunh."
She dug into the pricktip with the long nail of one extended digit. "Aaaaah."
Snapped the metal flycatch up. Zipped the fly downward as purple-tipped length of magenta member flipped out and up.
She unbuttoned his waistband and his pants flopped down over his ass hanging from his thighs down over the backs of his knees.
Balls hung low and billowed in the slow stifling breeze creaking in through the window.
Stinger took a sprightly jump high and snapped against his flat belly.
Prickstem bounced limberly several times before coming to a temblant rest, infused with the dense blood of erection.
Dick now deeper in complexion.
Pointing at her face.
Pulsating to the beat of blood. Bull shit pullulating with semen.
She tapered her fingers into his asscrack. Parted her teeth.
"Eeeeeh."
Took twanger in the kisser. "Mmmmm."
She hummed with her strumming tongue all around the cockhead in circles.
First one way she licked dick. Then slathered the fleshknob back the other.
"Unh."
Pressed with her tongue underneath the cock-head. Jamming it into her teeth. "Yeek."
Marlborough was speechless as he tested the depths of Juanita's neck. Rawhide peckertip tweaked past her tonsils.
She jacked off his jimjam with her knotted palms, running them up and down on the outside of her neck. Massaging the dickmeat within her throat.
Cheeks and gullet bloated with a load of lingam and a goodly wad of testicles, she sheathed his hard-on with rigid lunges of her head.
She drew her hair back from her eyes by tugging the sweat-sweetened locks back with her fists. Twisted her head at a skewed angle.
Neck torqued forward at a raffish slant. Prickstem lanced her through the lips. Cocktip clipped over the lower rack of her teeth. Penis barreled over her hanging tongue. Peckerbeak pierced her growling gullet. Steaming engine tooled on down her mucus-coated throat.
Bloated dingalingdong dangled veritably down into her tum-tum. "Yum."
His balls hung slung over the sides of her jowls like saddlebags from a jennyass. Gonads hung from her chin like the wattles of a turkey gobbler.
Marlborough ran his dick in again and again.
Jizzom splashed from his nuggets and bilged over her teeth like melted cheese and fermented cream streaming from an overstuffed enchilada.
She cupped his nuts in her teeth and bit in. Jammed her teeth together around nuggets and tugged in herky-jerk jaw action.
Marlborough's erection spasm. Sperm subsided in the midst of climax. Full load still bustling in the choad. Another batch coming up.
"Fuck me harder," she gargled through jizzom, blowing comey bubbles as she choked: "Lower. Fuck me. Down there."
She slithered his stinger from her head and went down on his ass.
Snapped up his anus and snarled at the back of his balls.
Marlborough whipped his haunch about and pressed her back away from him against the powdery adobe wall. Dipped his hips between hers.
Pronghorn burred up. Barbed her clit-clove with the nub of pricktip.
"In."
She began to go limp through the toes and ankles. Cuntlips snicksnacked on over cockhead. Knees liquefied and legs spread bonelessly.
Prick bolted into cuntmeat.
"Unh."
Rattlesnake hard-on bonged into witheringly hot iguana stew strewn from the flews of her saline snatch. Her pubic thatch was scrunched into a nappy felt-like pleach of beaver belt.
Banger strung itself upward once more. Erect phallus buried to the bull shit.
"Give me a whack."
"I knew you'd say that. Dirty Juanita. Just like something she'd want-a lot." Marlborough stepped back. Spoke:
"I should kick your cunt inside out and then go after your ass-hole and face. Oh, sorry. I forgot your tits. How disrespectful of me. Maybe I'll just maul them for you. like that?"
She puckered her lips like the blowhole of a dolphin. Hooted out a stream of leering saliva in a spray from between her front teeth.
"Jeez-you pig."
Her tongue shot out straight, then lolled about her face as she worked up another wad. She blew out slowly, with meaning.
Mist of sputum propelled by the projectile bellowing of her cheeks.
Spittle flew. Splat!
Hitting Marlborough's face.
"You say I'm a pig, Marlborough? That's just your type, isn't it? Why don't you go ahead and dig in. Give me a break. Maybe I won't have to act dirty with the other girls in the jailhouse-if I have you now. It will give me the strength I need to be as brutal as you are."
"Har har har," he chawed, "de har har. You are a fucking riot, my dear. A fucking riot. I can see how some men might not be able to resist."
"We already kissed. Didn't we, Marlborough. So fuck me. Fuck me-you hear? I won't compromise you. It's you who'll do that."
He jabbed his dick in her snatch.
One of her hands fell laxly from the cleft of his ass and passed by her garter. She drew the hasp and slid her miniature repeating pistol from its holster. As Marlborough twisted his whanger farther into her quim, his hand came down on her wrist. He whisked her gun away and it skittered across the sandy floor like a desert mouse.
"Not enough fun for you, tootsie?"
"Fucking? Not enough fun? Compared with guns-I'd say it depends on the circumstances."
He humped into her higher. Balls wadded tight up under his belly. As he worked himself toward a flare of orgasm, his testicles spasmed and his sack of nuts hung low.
"Slooooowly," she said into the top of his head. Kissing him. Sucking his skull. "Fuck me. Ever so slowly. And come-slooooowly."
He fucked her faster.
Her hand went behind her back. Dropped into the waistband of the crotchless yellowed undies through which she fucked and bucked out into his face with a derringer in her fist.
Before she could get it cocked, he bit it from her. Spat it ricocheting against the wall-bla-aaam!-it went off, firing a slug with a puff into a bolster of adobe.
"Through now, baby doll?"
"I'm totally disarmed as it is, Marlborough. But not finished fucking."
Marlborough sucked his breath deeper.
Pecked into her chewing cunt lips using the tension to his twanger provided by brittle spasms of his backbone and lithe torsion of his ass.
Jizzom flipped from the head of the pecker as he snapped it from her briny quim. He aimed his dick by choking it at the neck, sending jets of scum directly into her bellybutton.
He ejected a missile of jizz fizzing onto the tip of one of her tits.
She rubbed it in as she extended her tongue to catch another sparkling pellet of jizzom as it arced toward her open jaw.
Marlborough pawed his cockjuice in a handful all through her hair. She rubbed her face in his nuts, sucking the rutsweat and remnant cobbles of jizzom stuck to the pudhairs.
She looked him straight in the face the entire time she watched him put his pants back on. He checked his weapons, stuck those he had confiscated from her within a packet attached to his bandolier. Stared at her and spoke without texture to his words:
"What are you going to do-wear those?"
"I wear what I fucked you in, Marlborough. Do you care? I won't distract you. Not a hardguy professional like you. Gimme kiss."
"In the Jeep. Let's go, sugar. Let's move it though the door pronto."
As they left, she glanced at the sign painted hastily in Spanish and English in lipstick upon a shoebox top hung hurriedly as a shingle on the lintel of the low adobe bungalow by the side of the road.
Juanita la Sucia.
Dirty Juanita.
The name was there for all to see and she thought it was as good a name as any could be. At least it would be appropriate for her present purposes. She would bear it proudly.
THREE
Fistful of bull shit and a few gobbles more upon the good, bad, and ugly meat bolted through her trembling maw.
"It's sooooo juicy, Marlborough. When I soak it in my mouth."
"Take it out."
"Shiny with my spit."
"Quite an eyeful-if I do say so myself."
"Yes. I like to look at it. Yesss. Lick across the head like this. Yes-sss. Nibble on it underneath with the sides of my teeth. Yes-sssss. And then sink my choppers in. Yes-sss-sssss."
"Shit, Juanita. We have to get dressed. They're sending someone over to pick you up."
"Don't they trust you?"
"They trust an armored truck more-now that you're back in this close to the action. Secure escort-mainly for insurance purposes in your case."
"I am after all armed and dangerous."
"Were."
"But tow I just purr like a pussy, is that it? I'm safe? You think?"
"I don't know," Marlborough chuckled lightly. "I wouldn't feel any safer with you in the clink."
She clutched the wild bunch of marbles hung high under his belly and munched the barrel of the flesh pistol slung low down her throat.
Bloated facecheeks creaked outward like bellows as she sucked inward. Blowing out through her snout and mouth, his stringy pudhairs moved in response to her earthy breeze.
"You know, Juanita-I'll keep calling you that cause I like the way it sounds-I really should never have done anything like this."
He rolled her head around in his crotch, holding her lightly by the shell of her ears. Tugging her shining wet tresses.
Her head hopped up and down on his hard-on.
"It's true, Marlborough," Juanita said blowing prick. "You find it much more difficult now to bring me in."
"I got to thinking, Juanita-how I really wanted to go off somewhere with you and do things I've always wanted to do."
"I told you that you were romantic but you denied it."
"I'm not. Thinking about stuff like that. That's not supposed to happen."
"You were right from the first. I interfered with your work. Pestered you. Made things harder for you. You said you would be angry with me if I did any of that. You aren't-are you?"
"I don't love you or anything."
"I'm glad of that."
"If you hadn't been picked up you wouldn't be going to trial. If you hadn't been going to trial you wouldn't have jumped bail. If you hadn't jumped bail you wouldn't have met me."
"I see. You think it was destiny. It wasn't. You do what you do. Met me along the way. Now I go to jail. Nothing mysterious about that. You have your own ideas. You want to get away."
"With you."
"For a few days or years or the rest of your life-I don't know. And I really don't care. You can go by yourself. I can't."
"You've already taken a lot of chances."
"You don't need me. And don't worry-I'm no stranger to the juzgado. I was inside before."
"That's what I don't understand," Marlborough said, running his hand down her slick shoulders and back. "Your track record."
"I know," she said running her fingertips beneath his hard-on. "Kind of motley I am."
"You had a full-blown education and were employed by an art gallery-why did you bug out?"
"The work was lousy."
"Did you have to steal? At gunpoint?"
"I never did that. Your information is basurastrash. Bullshit. Rubbish. Garbage. I told you I was not guilty."
"But you never said you were innocent."
"That's right. I never said that. If I did you know what I meant."
Her stroke of fingernail underneath his twanger increased dramatically. She felt the steam about to blow in his nutcase.
His hands felt around underneath her dank tresses, massaging the muscles at the back of her neck as she tractioned her jaw along the length of lingam he presented to her maw.
"Suck it."
She sawed deeper into his dickflesh with her incisors while resting her opened palms upon the flats of his nates. Fingertips tapping into the asscrease as he bucked.
"Eat meat."
Prong stuck in deeper in her craw. Gurgling sounds eructed from her gullet. "Ululululu."
She then brought both her paws away from his fanny and moved them awry. Took hold of both testicles in her fists.
Yanked them.
"Unh."
Hard.
"Uuuuunh!" Once again. "Eiii." Harder.
"Aiii-yiii-yiiiii!"
Marlborough's minced meat flew from Juanita's gaping jaws.
His hung nuggets flailed between his legs as he flexed his legs at the knees.
He clutched his scrotum with both his hands as he knelt there in the center of the tattered throw rug that was clean as a doormat.
Marlborough racked his hand through his hair as the pain blared from his balls to his brain.
He strained backward toward the lower drawer of his desk-where they had it all set up inside so you could hang a few important files all neat next to you while you worked but where, because of the height of the drawer, Marlborough found he could stash a cache of liquor and long and tall glasses. Juanita cackled: "Ca-caw!"
Snapped her hands together in a single round of applause. Eased to her knees on the floor beside him and hissed his womanhandled knops of nougat.
She pawed his balls as he poured out two tall glasses full of fluid the color of oak. Stroking his savaged scrotum with one hand and drinking alcohol from the glass held in the other, Juanita backed up, butt-cheeks raised, across the floor.
Marlborough followed, leading with his twanger. As the sunlight slanted in through the dusty windows through an opening in the brown pollution clouds, Marlborough jabbed her claws toward the telephone. She tamped out a set of numbers on the keypad and droned something in Spanish, evidently to an answering machine, and the words Marlborough overheard meant next to nothing.
His gaze was trained on the wet sheen of sweat-drenched curves and lobes of tawny flesh coiled nakedly in the corner.
Her eyes ignited by the daze of sunrays. Deep-toned nippletips. Asspucker barely visible. Slices of cunt lips furrowed close together.
"That was my brother," Juanita said spreading her legs and flapping her trap open. "He wasn't there but I left a message for him."
"Brother, huh? Wasn't on the record, was he?
Not as your kin anyway. Brother or boyfriend?"
"He's my lover sometimes."
Juanita turned her face away from Marlborough's dangling banger. Caressed with her flickering peepers the skyline of the city seen spread-eagled through the window looking like an earth goddess dinged on knockout drops.
"Let's go," she said crawling toward him like a wildcat approaching prey. "I want your cock to crow before I have to go off to the henhouse."
She engulfed him slowly.
Suckered the stinger down her throat with easy swaying lunges of her tongue.
The head and neck of penis rubbed over the curved surfaces of her mouthlips as she kissed it at the end of the backstroke.
Rubbed the hotbed of her tits against his legsher own legs trembling and giddy-mouth begging to be fucked again.
Marlborough trotted his stallion once more through her gullet. Broke into a gallop as he pierced her craw down to his bull shit.
Pricktip tickled her tonsils.
Balls flopped over her chin.
Mouth munching crisp cockmeat.
Trailing her saliva over pubic hairs.
Sucking dick.
Her own fingers hard in her innards.
One more butt of the cock in her jaw and
Marlborough splintered inside.
His nutmeat cracked open.
Fresh jizzom rolled about.
Zapping sap shot up his prickstem.
Mouth open wide, Marlborough dropped his head back. Felt Juanita's ringers crawling up his asscrack. Rubbing his rump with the gunk she had taken in handfuls from her own twat. Mmmmm.
Nodes of come exploded from his peckerbeak. Squeaks of Juanita's fingers in her quim brought her shimmering within.
Even as she hawked hard-on hawg harder in her jowls, her own insides-undersides-craved to be adored. Fucked in the mouth just wasn't enough.
She wanted to be gored in the butt.
Cunt cored like an apple.
Semen snapped from snickering cockhead. Threads of jizz fizzed down the insides of her neck, trickling into her tum-tum.
"Glrgh."
Slick peckerwood scampered sideways from her moving maw.
Enticements of tongue drawing forth another blast of molten jizz from the lips of the prepuce of his jimjam.
"More."
Marlborough felt himself emptied and parched. It was a mystery for him how he ever found it within himself to blow off again. But there it was.
"Come-now-at my mouth-please-yesindeed. I knew it. Oooooh."
Come bilged from the bull shit.
Lobbed in globs up the vesicles leading from the testicles into the shank of the twanger. Scum flared out at her face.
"Aaaaah."
Marlborough drew back a pace. Dredged another wad up from somewhere down low. Slimeball thrown out from snout of prick. Pleep!
Across her cheekbones the pitched jizzom boiled like a streak of burning unguent. She drew her mouthlips within her own maw.
Tasted the prickjuice there.
Sucked it.
Rolled the jizzjuice on her tongue. Knots of cockcome, thick and hard to swallow. "Aaaaah."
Juanita wallowed in each dollop of cockcome ejected from Marlborough's wrangler. Semen snicked into her sodden hair.
She left it there-like cabochon opals glistening in her tresses, fresh jizzom spangled her bangs in the viscous sunlight.
Emotions stagnant in the scalding air of rutsweat fumigating the tight space around their bodies.
Eddies formed by breath and body movements.
Another round of fucksuck set to commence when of course the tinny bell to the outer office stuttered and jingalanglonged.
"Come on in," Marlborough said through the intercom as he tossed a lancing glance between Juanita's come-clouded eyes. "Won't be but a moment. If you would please wait in the reception area-I'll buzz you in."
*****
Juanita smiled thinly and at no one as she wiggled her fanny up into the rear compartment of the armored truck. She bucked her buttocks as the escort placed thumbs and fingers on her rump and gave her a boost-firm grip flirting with her calves and ankles.
"You in, kid?"
"Yeah. Thanks, miss," Juanita said, managing a blistering twist to the meaning that the escort either failed to take in or was baffled by. "I can always use all the help I can get."
"You should buckle up," the escort said. "Strap yourself in real tight. That's what the regulations say. But do what you want."
"Can't do fucking much of anything with my hands cuffed in back of my ass like this."
"Here. I'll do it. Watch it-we're moving out now. Might have to jostle you a bit."
The armored truck lurched away from the curb. Juanita smelled the escort's perfume and bodily musk mix in the thick air.
There was a metallic taste in Juanita's yip-one she had hitherto associated with fear. But now she sensed something else too-as though the fear had encouraged excitement-and arousal.
Instead of fear of the unknown-and to be sure, Juanita had never done this before, had never fantasized it-there was hunger for the new.
Was it Juanita? Desperation perhaps-as the mother of her newfound courage and dash. Or was it the briny flash of rich bitchbrew in the other woman's gash? There was strength in that quim. Juanita sensed it and wanted to eat it up.
Whatever it was, Juanita knew that the other woman knew it too-and knew what Juanita was going through trying to do what she was going to do.
Did she know what Juanita was up to-and did she care? There was a message of confirmation floating from somewhere and Juanita recognized it. Something about the other woman-the other women.
Two dead cold eyes were peeled at Juanita's head reflected in an angular collage of mirrors and reflective surfaces from the driver's compartment.
Quirking her own eyes, Juanita was able to size up her jailers.
Marlborough had said the bail bondsman's outfit was habitually understaffed in order to preserve the profit margin. Now here was Juanita, held captive by two well-armed babes, one of them driving. With Marlborough as backup reinforcement with the driver up in the front cage, the driver, Juanita hoped, would soon be otherwise engaged.
Juanita started just a trifle as the female escort lingered close to her buckled body. Stringing out the seatbelt and shoulder harness.
Her elbows beeped into Juanita's tits. Fingers fidgeted with the buckle across Juanita's lap. Juanita smelled her breath. "Ninininini." Giggled a little.
Sensed the stench from the cleft between the flaps of her arms as perspiration infused with cuntlust burst forth in torrents.
"That stuff looks crazy to me," Juanita breathed out slowly. "The straps and buckles next to my skin. like being a trapeze woman at a circus."
Juanita relaxed and closed her eyes. Felt the eyes of the other woman rove across her torso. Pretended that she was touching her there-they were touching each other.
Was she getting the message?
Juanita thought harder.
Saw it clear as a picture.
Frictioning bitchbodies moving in heat. Platypussing each other across the face. Cuntkisses with smirking wet labias. Clits cuking within slits and in between ass-cheeks.
Juanita felt in her imagination the other woman drawing closer-drawing Juanita closer. Because she wanted it. Wanted to do it.
Fondle her down lower.
And apply oral suction to tapered titties. Prune prettygirl snatch with her teeth. Ream out rosy rectum with widened tongue.
"Kiss me," Juanita said. "Don't just sit there like you're pissing your britches, sister. Kiss me."
"My name's Guadalupe."
"I didn't ask."
"I'm telling you."
"Why should I want to know?"
"I thought you said you wanted to get friendly."
"I don't give a shit. I want you to kiss my face. Squeeze my tits. Rub into my slit."
"Where are you coming from?"
"Where you are, angelfoodface. You want to know how hot I am? I haven't had cock in so long I'm strung out like a nun."
"You think I'm turned on."
"I saw it in your face."
"I'm not lesbian."
"And if you were," Juanita made a face as if to upchuck, "you'd rather puke than make it with a prisoner, huh? A criminal whorebitch like me."
Juanita parted her knees slightly. Spicy scents struck into her sinuses. She dilated her nostrils a bit. Pursed her lips.
"How about that kiss, Guadalupe."
"Don't make me sick."
"You know, Guadalupe. You're pretty cute. For a bulldyke. Most of them look like bricks. But you're slender. Curvy. Nice-sized boobs."
"You want me to get really leaked off, right, floozy? Haul off and whack you. Maybe even shoot you-just wing you, of course. Then maybe you get off on a technicality. Sorry, dollbaby."
"I know it doesn't work that way," Juanita played with the words. "I wasn't lying. I like sex. I'm horny. So fuck me, Guadalupe. Suck me."
"So you think I've never done this? Or is it the reverse? Maybe you think you can show me some stuff. Maybe you want to leaYn."
"Kiss me. I'm burning."
"You first."
"Afraid it will hurt? Don't, worry. I wouldn't if I were you-you're the one with the gun. And I'm all handcuffed and strapped in."
Juanita lolled her tongue out.
Trailed it wetly across her chin.
Drew it back in.
"Oh, I know, Guadalupe. You're nervous cause you think she might see through-see us do it. You think that bitch driver's looking at us back here? Through the mirrors?"
"She doesn't need any mirrors. There's cameras everywhere. This is, after all, Hollywood."
"Kiss me good."
Guadalupe did.
"Now harder."
Guadalupe angled herself so her head was in front of Juanita's face if you were observing them from the angle of the camera. She pressed her mouth against Juanita's teeth and sucked.
"S-sss-sssss-laaaaack."
"Harder, Guadalupe," Juanita breathed, leaning back against the side of the compartment. "Bite me when you kiss me."
Juanita opened her mouth fully and Guadalupe stuck her tongue in. Juanita shimmied her hips.
Her skirt rose high over her hinders.
Tufts of pusshairs whiskered out from her yellowed undies.
Guadalupe oozed her hand down onto Juanita's lap as Juanita began to pulse her pelvis back and forth. Tilting her hips upward and then drawing back in an arc.
"Frig me, Guadalupe. Those fingers are sooooo good. And if you suck me I'll come immediately. Cream all over the place."
Guadalupe hunkered down between Juanita's knees and leaned forward. Juanita flopped her torso forward over Guadalupe's head. Mouth met crotch. Moistness met moistness. "Unh. Unh. Unh."
Panties shredded in Guadalupe's incisors as she slashed through the material covering Juanita's quim. Labia gave way.
Cunny caved in.
"Una buena chocha que tiene."
A fine cunt you have.
"Thank you, Guadalupe."
"Es el mejor para chupar."
The best kind for sucking.
"Was nice of you to notice," Juanita gloated.
"Cuando mordisco mas abajo-yo husmeo su chocha y pico su culito rosado."
When I nibble lower-I smell your cunt and peck at your rosy ass-hole.
"I know, Guadalupe. I know. Stroke it. Stroke my pussy with your thumb. Strum my clitoris. Get your fingers up my ass. Fast!"
"Why are we stopping? I'm sorry, Juanita. I think we have already arrived at the jail."
"Don't slow your stroke, Guadalupe. We're just in a parking lot is all. I'm keeping a eye on that driver, hon. She can't see a thing. Marlborough's in her. She's stalling for time while she balls him. Ooooo-rim me. Have yourself a ball."
FOUR
Asshole spread butterflied and tits stuck bolt upright, Juanita faced the hard-on dead-on in her hiney.
She drained the stinger within her with quick jerking flexions of her anal sphincter. Prick stuttering off come in her hinders.
Buzzing cunthive and singing clitoris reddened and swollen and wet. Surrounded by the sticky stand of her pubic forest.
Maniacal twitch of mouthlips stitched a rictus of orgasm up one side of her bitch-in-heat face at an obscene pitch.
He got off her hips quickly now that he was finished. Oily jizzom hung down from her assrim as he shoved his spent penis back into his pants.
"Shall we dance?" she heard him ask her.
Or she asked herself. In her head, her imagination, her mind, or her fantasy. Whatever it was, Juanita snorted, it did not much compare with the reality of where she was.
What she was doing.
Washing the dishes in the kitchen. Marlborough's kitchen. In his place. His new grill and nightclub along one of the more picturesque side streets in Mexico City between the bounds of El Bosque de Chapultepec, the trendy Zona Rosa and chichi nightspots of Polanco. Kind of place where both locals and foreigners would want to hang out. The kind of joint Marlborough had always wanted to run.
And run he had.
Right across the border.
With his Dirty Juanita in tow.
Marlborough had crossed the borderland of his reality into the land of his dreams. But it wasn't a Utopian vision.
Marlborough had actually worked it out with precision beforehand-though he hadn't realized it consciously. Until Juanita brought it out in him.
At first Juanita knew she must be crazy-they would never get away with it. She was floating on air, literally, as they flew via a series of small light aircraft from the hills outside of Los Angeles to the outreaches of the valley of Mexico.
It was a worldly sort of escape, in fact. Earthbound in spite of itself. When they got there, it was clear it wasn't outer space.
There was reality there to spare.
"What kinds of beer do you have here?" she heard the voice come from out front. "Cerveza. Que tipos tiene?"
Juanita ducked her head and peeked underneath the line of hung jugs and mugs studding the dark rough-hewn wooden rack behind the bar that had an opening through to the part of the kitchen where Juanita spent much of her time doing paperwork or, sometimes, when the business during early or late afternoons had been slow and the help sent home, exercising her fantasies and washing dishes.
"Hello," the man said, coming up to the bar, running long fingers through clean hair cut casually and worn without a part, golden highlights of his head thatch slinking down at an angle over his eyes. "Hola. I just came in-"
"We're open," Juanita said, not smiling, wiping her hands in front of her quim on a wet soiled apron as she came around to him from the kitchen. "Slow today. The economy, no? Not so good these days. So sometimes we look closed. Look here." Juanita indicated several beer spigots with logos of different brands attached to the pulls. "We have these on draft. And more in bottles. From England and Germany. The United States, too."
"I'll have that dark amber Mexican one."
"Dos Equis. Yeah. Gringos like that."
He winced.
"What do you drink?" slid from between his teeth with marked casualness. "Whatever."
"What kind of beer do your people drink?"
She stared blankly at him.
"Your people," he spoke slowly. "What kind of beer-should I speak Spanish?"
"Your people-you said that, Mister. That's bullshit. Fuck you. I'm not from here. Not Mex."
"I meant the people who come in here. Who work here. What's their favorite brew?"
"I'm American like you," she continued. "I was born in the United States of America."
"I'm Canadian."
"I maybe have an accent sometimes-when I'm pissed-when I'm washing fucking dishes. But I'm white." She half turned away from him toward the light slanting in from the gray afternoon streets through the heavy wooden window slats.
He could smell her heat.
"I'm Spanish," she bleated. "My people are from Spain. Some of them. Mainly from the plain of Castilla. And Jewish too, some of them. Sephardic. From Andalucia." She cracked her eyes wider and saw him sideways just sitting there with an open frank look on his face. "And British," added with nostrils flared. "You know-a modern major general stationed rock-hard at Gibraltar."
"Raw-ther. God save the Queen-or King. Which is it? I forget."
"You aren't fucking Canadian."
"American like you."
She tossed her head back and looked at him over her shoulder as she then cast her eyes toward the array of butterflied sides of lamb, splayed legs of kid, smoking beef ribs, strands of sizzling sausages, and crackling rolls of suckling pig roasting on racks over an open bed of coals.
"I only said I'm American," she lipped lewdly. "Fu-uuuck you! Fuck you again."
"You sure talk like an American."
"What are you trying to do? Flatter me? Butter me up? You hungry? None of this grilled stuff is ready yet, but I could fix you up something special myself. Anything you like."
"I like the painting you have mounted up over the bar there. The lady in the long throne covered with jaguar skins. Her pose. The way she's laid out. All that hair wrapped around her-and wearing nothing else. Weapons-bows and arrows, darts and war clubs. She's supposed to be Calafia-isn't she."
"You know her?"
"Queen of the Amazons of California according to the old Spanish romances."
"Not too many gringos know that."
"She and her girls were real nice to each other and real mean to men-it was said in the legends."
"You're supposed to be enchanted by that."
"I am."
"Shocked."
"I'm not."
"Real sexy thoughts." She shook her head. "My husband put it there. He wants this place to look like a bordello." She smiled. "You mean you didn't mean anything by that before? What you said."
"I only wanted the best beer you have here."
"I posed for it," she said, flicking her eyes up to the picture in its heavy gilt frame. "But you can't tell really. It doesn't resemble me-the face and other places." She looked straight at him. "It's not meant to be a portrait. I modeled for the composition-the painter made up all the important details. I don't look like that."
"Attractive nonetheless."
"Not too many people around today." She slid a full mug his way. "Out of town-the rich ones in this city are. For the long weekend-they take off for their homes in Cuernavaca or fly to Huallaca or Acapulco-you know those places."
"No."
"Lots of people there. Lots of sun. You have fun. Not so much entertainment going on here now. Strictly tail end of the business week."
"But it's nice-in here-if you like it quiet in the afternoon."
"I was going to tell you to come back here-again later-at night. Tonight we have singers and guitar players. Dancers. Really happy people always."
"Maybe so. If I'm in a different mode. Right now, I'm just sitting around-as you can see."
"You shop in the Zona Rosa?"
"Looked around. I'm not into the imagine routineI can see all that same stuff in New York or London anyway. I was at the library."
"The one at the museum?"
"Uuuh-yes. As well as the university."
"You a professor?"
"Consultant. Technology. Used in archeology. I can take laser photographs and map out the areas where there are ruins in the jungle. Using infrared and ultraviolet schemes I can pinpoint even something obscure like a burial vault hidden underneath a pyramid mound. If the conditions are right. Am I boring you? I'd like another beer."
Juanita drew another brew from the tap and leaned across the bar nearer to him.
"You can see the ancient temples through the ground?" Juanita said wetly. "Through the trees and the jungle?" He smelled her.
"Not really," he said. "But the effect is nearly the same for my purposes. Whatever I do sure doesn't replace on-site investigation."
Briny scents slipped into his nostrils. High snippets of cinnamon and vanilla. Earthy dankness of wet chocolate and coffee and mushrooms.
"You do that too?" Her tits welled up from the bodice of her kitchen-crusty dress. "Investigate the temples and pyramids in the jungle?"
He felt her hotness.
Her nearness.
Her intensity.
"Sometimes-but I'm not an archeologist. I'm more a photographer."
Saw her tongue move quickly between her parted sharp teeth.
"But you do go there," she said cautiously. "Out there in the forest."
"Yes. Often."
"Where?"
The exudations from her scented meat gripped him by the seat. As she was speaking he was held by her eyes. Peripheral vision taking in dancing tongue. Small sharp white teeth.
Partially revealed peach-like titflesh.
"I've worked just north of here," he said offhandedly, "at Teotihuacan. Also south in the Maya area-in the rainforest north of Tikal and east of Palenque mainly."
"Tell me when you go to Veracruz."
He bent forward now. Sipped low in his mug of beer without leering. Slanted his gaze. Straight up into her face.
Seeing her.
Smelling her.
Feeling her heat.
"Tomorrow."
"You are joking with me," she said uneasily. "Just kidding, you say."
Cock struck up in the crotch of his pants with immediate intensity. His balls wiggled of their own volition. Anal sphincter twitched with incipient hunger.
"Why would I be?" he responded.
"I don't know why you would say such a thing if it wasn't true-except if you were playing with me. You aren't like some of the other ones who come in here in the afternoons. Waiting for their wives or mistresses or girlfriends to finish shopping or having their hair or nails done."
"I'm just hanging loose."
"They are always doing that to me, you know. Teasing me. Flirting. Calling me names. Trying to get me to go away with them. But saying it just for fun. Lots of people do that-you'd be surprisedwomen as well as men."
"They might get ideas if they pass their time looking at that portrait up there."
"Smutty Calafia," she hissed.
"Well, I am flying to Veracruz tomorrow morning. I'll be traveling from the city up the coast in order to do some work pertaining to unexcavated archeological zones in the area around El Taj in."
"Come on-near Papantla?"
"Nearby-but very remote."
"I have people there I know-or know of. like family-cousins, you know? In the city and some who live-out there-I've never seen them."
"So you're Veracruzana? Sensuous city it is. The music. The dances. The food-ahhh, life is kind on the seacoast."
She slid her hand between her boobs as if to scratch or press beads of sweat into the material of her dress from the slippery convexion of her nippled lobes of flesh.
"I'm not from there," she said. "Just know that some of my family are from around there. Merchants. I think they travel the roads and sell city things to the people in the jungle."
"There are no roads. Not where I go."
"I'd love to go there." Her eyes clouded over to a jizzomy consistency. Hips waggled from side to side thoughtfully. "At least to the city-to hear the jarocho music and eat a lot of fish."
"It's funny-but I do have a spare ticket. Someone was to accompany me on this trek but at the last minute couldn't make it."
"She couldn't?" She saw him blush. "I knew it was a woman."
"According to the airline, I can't get anything like a full refund-they still keep over half of the ticket price."
"That would be nice." Slices of titmeat bounced up toward his face as she lowered her elbows onto the top of the bar. Leaned her jaws onto her hinged palms. "But I couldn't go."
"I know it's short notice," he said. "But if you and your husband could get away-one of you could use my extra ticket if you want, and you could end up saving money. It's no resort area, but-"
"That won't be necessary. I can pay full price. Another beer would be nice, Mister--? "
"Yes."
"Kiss me."
He did.
"Feel me through my dress." He did.
"I want to feel your hands all over my breasts." Words rushed from her mouth spiced in hot breath. "Petting them like puppies. Patting them like bread dough. Twisting them like knobs. Then pinching the nipples. Ha-aaa-aaaaard."
His hands kneaded the flesh of her shoulders as he pulled her close up to him. Pressed her breasts into his chest. "Oh!"
Rolled underneath her arms and into the moist pits. Ran around to the front of her rib cage.
"Yes."
Fingers crawled all over her tits as they ate each other's face.
"Oh, gawd. I want you to fuck my face. With your tongue. Stick it in me."
She torqued her torso around and low, beneath him, bending him down over her upon the surface of the bar. He rose forward from his stool and wiped drool all over her cheeks and chin.
"Mmmmm."
He tapered his tongue and inserted it between her lips and her teeth. Spread the tongue out wide and lapped her gums.
"Fuck me. Fuck me with your mouth. And I'll fuck you. Fuck you back. Fuck you with my teeth."
He felt the slime of rutsweat ooze from her underarms. Both their bodies began to sway, to rock. To friction against each other, limbs rubbing together in a welter of rising bodyheat.
"Spread me. In the lips."
Tongues lashed together like mating lizards. Teeth clacked together like castanets. Gums grated against insides of mouthlips, stripping the thin layers of vermilion skin.
"Sear me."
Lips thick with spittle and smeared lipstick. Tits toppling out of wrenched bodice. Eyes simmering dark and light at once.
"Uuuuunh."
He looked up at the painting on the wall and the lady in the picture seemed to move. Queen Calafia of the Amazons of California beckoned to him.
Teased him with her slightly extended tongue.
Taunted him with the rouged tips of her tits seen between the tresses of her flowing hair.
Gestured with laxly extended fingers in indication of the unseen tantalizing quim ensconced within the thatch woven of the hair of her head and hair of pusskins.
"We can't do this," he whispered. "Not here."
"Who says we can't."
"Your husband-"
"My slavemaster. We aren't really fucking married-just fucking together. And I know he's out playing the fuckysucky with another woman nowa puta-his mistress, his whore-he adores her and leaves me to smear around in his scullery all day. Tear me."
He rubbed the nipples of her boobs rudely. Felt the tender nuggets harden and thicken and grow hotter in his fists.
Twisting them.
Drawing them out.
"Lower. Feel me lower. I love it when you hurt my tits. Love it! I want to burst. Hurt me harder now. Lower. In the chocha."
His hand frittered between her tits and drifted down over her line of ribs toward the navel. Her tongue licked behind his teeth and her shallow breaths blew thick into his nostrils as her legs drifted up from the platform behind the bartop.
"Spear me."
Her hands warped back above her head. She stretched out her arms and grabbed his shirt. Yanked it out of his pants.
His mouth unsuctioned from hers and traveled down the outside of her columnar neck. Hands hankering up under the hem of her skirt.
"Not yet."
She placed her heels on the rim of the bar counter. Legs cocked and half splayed, twisted together at the ankles. She squiggled her hiney and hips. Wriggled her head and torso in spasmic undulation that ran woozily from her ears and eyes and nostrils and mouthlips through her neck and backbone-limbs limbering down every joint and through every knuckle to the final extension of her digits.
"Ai-eiii-yiiiii!"
Her body buckled in his clutches.
Skirt and apron drifting away heavy with moisture from slick muscular gams. "Ngh."
Her hands found his fly and belt buckle and she simultaneously threw her legs out wide. The bottom of her dress and apron fell away up her thighs and over the rise of her haunch and Venus mount.
"Awn."
She wriggled her hiney about. His pants were down and off. Cock sticking out and up.
She saw the hanging bull shit and extended penis dangling above her head from the underside.
She wanted to lick up with her tongue. Caress the hung sack of nuts. Temper the head of pecker between her teeth.
But she held back and breathed out slowly.
"Strip me."
Jimjam jiggled.
Cockhead stared back straight into her eyes.
She reached up and took hold of the twanger by the neck. Redirected its aim toward her midsection.
He played his hands again, down her shoulders, rutting his stretched and hardened fleshrod against her palm.
He felt his balls roll over her wrist as she twisted her grip on his cocktip. She tittered nearly inaudibly as he commenced undressing her formally. Pulling the collar of her dress wide. Sliding his fingers between the buttons.
Two tall taunting tits tipped out.
Nippletips glistening. Pointed like darts. "Bare me."
He rolled the material down from her shoulders. It gave at first, but then caught up in her flesh and bones, wound round her wrists and elbows. Crisp caked dirty and oiled textures piled with the wrinkles of her apron over her bellybutton.
"Rip me."
He looked up again at the portrait of the Queen of the Amazons of California.
Took a gander around the room, past the braziers of smoking coals and sizzling spreads of sausages and meats. s
Streaks of light trickling in askance from the overcast outside highlighted abstract outlines of wooden and leather masks hung from barren rafters with glistening glass eyes and long tongues lolling out. Splashes of color supplied by tapestried wal-lhangings of pre-Columbian and Colonial design.
More paintings, murals: Naked women and men cavorting in and out of European Renaissance settings. Oiled and feathered aboriginals displaying themselves in revealing getups of spotted animal pelts and polished stones.
Javelins and darts and arrows and obsidian-bladed clubs sharing wall space with swords and crossbows and guns.
Heads of jade inset with mirrored eyes and dentition. Raptorial birds with fighting rattlesnakes held in their beaks.
A sausage sizzled and spat a crackling of molten fat-splat! zzzzzi-iiing!-onto the burning coals.
"Rip me, I said."
He held his breath.
Smelled hers.
Metallic and sweet. Thick and tangy and sour. A taste not for the meek.
"Fucker you are," she spat. "You son of a mother-fucking fucker. I want you to fuck for me. Fuck me. Rip me! Ri-iiip me-eee-eeeee!"
He slapped her face.
"Unh. Unh. Unh."
Took hold of her dress between her tits. "Aiiiiinh!"
Twisted the material. Wrenched it. "Eiii-aiii."
Snatched her tattered vestments off over her head. Shredding the material at the seams and darts as it gave way to the flail of her legs and maddened waffling of her arms and torso and head.
Yellowed underpants, stiff and crinkly and moist and dirty, shrouded the hump of her pumping pusskins. He frigged her clit through her panties. Frazzled her labia.
Took hold of the undies a little off-center and whisked them away off down her thighs.
"Uuuuunh."
Whipped the scummed material with its withered embroidered designs left and right. Quimwrinkles and snatchfur starched with cuntcome slithered up toward him. He tore her underpants apart and knelt underneath her, her legs athwart his knees.
"Do it. Everything. To me. Now."
He saw her he thought for the first time.
"See me stripped. Wet. Naked. Slapped. Bare. A roughed-up nude. like you want it. like you want me. I want it too."
She molded her bazooms in her hands and offered the tips to him. Thumbed down into her forest and stuck her clitoris out rudely. Spread her cunt lips in an uneven smirk.
Quirked her hiney up higher.
Asshole winked out at him.
"Put it in. Stick it. Fuck into me. Fuck my cunt. Chinguesteme en la chocha."
He breathed out.
Let his hips go. Prickmeat throbbed out. Smutched into the folds of flesh beneath her belly.
Jabbed the jimjam in a series of ramming actions. Her belly moved jelly-like as he staked into her. Shaking his bull shit-heavy as lead in his fist.
Twisted the pecker in.
Hugged by quim.
Lips of cunt sucked sinfully upon the yammering dingalingdong. Pricktip lurched in and out in tiny ruts through the furrows of her froufrou.
"You know what I want you to do?" Her eyes moved playfully from side to side in almond-shaped eyeslits. "Fuck me. But not here-I mean it's okay in the hocha but it's not enough." Her teeth bit toughly into her lower Up. "I wanted you to get your bengue into the snatch to get it juiced up. So you can fuck it up into me well." Her eyes flashed. "In my little culito, you know?" She chucked from her gullet. "Right up my ass!"
She pressed down with both her palms, running her hands below her belly. Prick slithered snake-like from its burrow within her quim.
Head hopped up.
Cockhead crowned with mucilage of twat.
"In my ass."
He was on her fast.
Pecker blasted into her buttocks. Anus ululated as the tip of the prick played ring around the rosehole and then edged in.
"Ulgch."
Her ass-hole melted like a ball of soft whipped butter impaled by a heated knife.
He sliced into her bung with his prong and on the first full low stroke his bull shit hung down close to her hinders.
She snazzed her fanny about as his inflated pigskin oinked in and out of her buttocks. Fucked her up the as in slippery judders.
She uttered unintelligible ministrations to no one with her eyes glued to the top of her skull:
"Na na-na na-na. Na. Na na-na. Na-na. Na nana. Na-na na na-na."
Snout of hawg rooting in her peaty rumpmusk like a trained boar burrowing for truffles. Grunting in grunge as her innards cringed.
"This is how I wanted it," she howled in a whisper. "Fuck off into me. Jizzom up my ass. Come into my chocha. Cream off over my tits."
He sighed as he pried himself higher and higher up her hinders. Head of cock burned like cinders. Fucking ass-hole filled with embers.
She flexed her gams around his waist, kicked him in the can as he fucked up her ass.
His rectum jerked as her toes flirted between the cheeks of his buttocks.
Bull shit rolled against her underside as he fucked up into her high and wide.
"Soooo good. I have imagined it like this," she sprayed at him with a mist of saliva. "You don't know how long I have been hoping for it. For someone. like you. To come to me."
He fucked her ass silently.
Roughly.
"You will get me away from this place," she sizzled between saw-like teeth. "Help me at least. Or are you a beast?"
"No-uh-I meant what I said."
His cockhead squeaked around down near the opening of her rectum. He torqued it around the rim of her anus-prick stuck in just past the head. Asshole suckering cockneck.
"You do want to be with me," she pled. "You aren't only using me for the fuck."
"Not at all."
"But you don't love me."
"Of course not."
"Good. You are no fool."
He fell into her with his cock up her ass. Cuntlips spread wide across his belly. Clitoris biting in. His nuts hung down between her lobes of ass-flesh and the backs of her thighs.
Pairs of tits-masculine and feminine-pressed hard against each other's chest.
Mouthlips draped over chins.
She stuck her tongue out.
He sucked it.
Bucked his hips back. Pulled his pelvis forward. Penis weaseled up once more into her rumphole. Prong goring blowhole.
Come boiling in bull shit and ready to blow.
"Oh."
Curds of her cuntjizzom streamed from her snatch. She reamed out the inside of his mouth as her ass-hole chomped upon his in-and-out bolt of thunk chugged up her blooming fanny.
"Please," she said strumming her clit. "I'm come-miiing. I want your jizzom."
He pumped fast.
Come gurgled in hi nougat.
"Ai-iii-iiiii. Ei-iii-iiiii. Yi-yiii-iiiii."
He creamed off up her ass.
Her legs wound down his form in sudden contortions like a crab struggling on its back in the sand. Bland juices in his yip turned tart and sour and tingling.
The scent of their fucksweat oxidized and the light grew darker. Sparks ignited his eyes from within, though he could not see a thing-just sensed the writhing of her thighs as he blew himself off from the launching pad of his bull shit. Sending his missile high into the skies.
Cock come-miiing-zing!;-jizzom blistering within struggling buttocks.
He saw the low sheen in her eyes. How her entire body was running with perspiration and the juices of their fuck.
Her ass-hole sucking cock.
"Awk."
Asshole butterflied and tits stuck bolt upright, she faced the hard-on dead-on in her hiney. Drained the stinger within her with quick jerking flexions of her anal aperture.
Prick stuttered off the remaining ballast of come up into her hinders. "Mmmmm."
Buzzing cunthive and singing clitoris reddened and swollen and wet. She was in a momentary calm, his hands surrounded by the sticky stand of her pubic forest.
"This was a good start," she said with nostrils dilated and eyeslits and mouthlips barely parted. "Now for the best part."
Maniacal twitch of mouthlips stitched a rictus of orgasm up one side of her bitch-in-heat face at an obscene pitch.
Oily jizzom hung down from her assrim.
He got off her hips quickly. Grabbed up some clothing and pitched some to her. She saw him dress quickly Frowned at him as he shoved his spent penis back into his pants.
"Why the rush?" she spoke with no insinuation in her voice. "We could have another drink before we fuck again. This time in my pussy. Then after that you fuck my face and suck me all over. You want to try the tequila?"
"Shall we out of here, so to speak?" she heard him ask her.
"Not yet."
"You wanted to leave-before he got back. You're husband, you said."
"I changed my mind. I have some valuable things
I should take with us. And maybe it would be better to wait for him."
"I think not."
"You know all about this stuff?"
"No-not much."
"My husband-he plays rough."
"All the more reason to go."
"I didn't tell you before-I forgot. He was returning early today-he swore to me-to celebrate our anniversary. He was bringing me a present. I want to give him mine."
"I'm leaving straightaway-call me later if you still want to-or can-get away. Anyway, it was a thrilling afternoon."
"Let's kill him."
"You're silly."
"No. We have to."
"You're serious."
"You should kill him. Ambush him before he knows. He'll kill you when he finds out you fucked me. Here on top of his bar in his own place. He doesn't like that-you show him no respect."
"You-we can just go away."
"Better make sure he can't follow. You don't like the thought of murder?"
"Never thought of it."
"Not before. Think some more. You'll want to too. To save yourself-forget about me."
"Wouldn't I have to kill you too?"
She shrugged. "Only if you want to. Or if you don't trust me." She blinked her eyes a few times. "Yeah. I think I can just go away. If I do it fast. Do it now. Let's get lost."
"Looks as though we have to. Well, it won't be hard where we're going."
"I hope you know so."
"If I don't, there's still hope. Queen Calafia and the Amazons of California may come to our rescue. You know, there are indeed places on earth where there are more like her around."
"You don't say."
FIVE
Reddened nippletips glowered in the low light. Bulging boobs loomed above her lacy bodice, pushed toward his face.
"I fucked you," she blew from between her teeth in a feather of smoke. "Fucking and sucking with you, Christopher-on the countertop of the bar. Before I even knew your name."
"I could say the same thing," Christopher chuckled into his drink.
The air was heavy with moisture and heat as groups of musicians played stringed instruments, percussion, horns-and the music was borne upon the slow breeze beneath the canopies of columns and architraves of Spanish colonial city architecture surrounding the seaport plaza.
"You know what it was," Juanita whispered insistently. "Betrayal. Our complicity in that act. You know how it made it so hot-so much better fucking and sucking because of it."
"People are like that," Christopher shrugged.
"I felt so fine with you inside me, Christopher. It cleansed me-purified me when you shot off your jizzom into my hide and I came to the skies."
Christopher opened his eyes wide:
"I certainly didn't mean anything by it. With you-I meant that, when we made love together. I didn't do it to get back at-to help you get back at your-husband."
"But you knew. I told you Marlborough and I weren't really married. But we did have a vow. Unspoken. He broke it and I had to get out. That wasn't the only reason I did it-I wanted your fuck the instant I saw you anyway. Okay? Make you feel better, Christopher? Now it's you and I."
"It's not the same, Juanita," he breathed into his drink. "Getting to know each other-even running off together for a couple days-simply does not mean we have to have a deep-and enduringrelationship."
"I know what you mean," she said, sucking down the last of her smoke. "I have made that mistake in the past. It doesn't last. You fly high for a while and then you crash."
She finished her drink fast.
Sniffed the air.
There was a familiar scent there, but it was hard to gauge what it was.
"Smell that?" she spat. "I think it's a cat."
"Could be any number of things-rats-we're here in a port city," he snorted. "On the coast I find briny scents always speeding through the old nasal passages. And fumes of the local tobacco, chocolate, coffee, and vanilla are often wafted on the crest of damp floral fragrances."
"That's poetry."
She bent her head into an array of gardenia blossoms embedded in a crudely carved container hacked from a thick length of sugarcane offered to her by a tight-lipped gamine who, wrapped from head to toe within a cape of dark material, smelled louder than the flowers she bore.
Christopher flickered his eyes gingerly up and down the maiden's unappetizingly arrayed form. Inadvertently catching his eyes upon several smaller baskets of other goods she was hauling with her in addition to the containers of flowers as she passed among the cafe tables.
The young flower woman then held out a fat cigar, passed it under her nose with her eyes closed. Held it forth toward Christopher, who took hold of it and sniffed.
The young stinking golfa flashed her eyes at both Juanita and Christopher as if to size them up. Yanked out a wad of roughly embroidered handkerchiefs, a reed flute and small set of hand drums from one of her covered baskets.
Christopher and Juanita exchanged glancesJuanita was a blank. Christopher thought for an instant Juanita was reading something into or among the flowers she drifted her nose slowly through, sniffing obliviously.
Christopher shook his head no, sadly, toward the ragamuffin pilluela and her other offered wares and dug into his trousers for pesos.
The maiden of the flowers smiled in return, wan and disappointed and hurt, flirting her eyes from Juanita to Christopher and back to Juanita again.
Stroking Christopher's prick with her eyes.
Licking Juanita's legs and tits and clit with her vision.
The gamine's eyes softened into twin wilting flowers, but Christopher saw a touch of toughness there that said everything she did was an act.
Christopher whipped a roll of pesos onto the flower girl's palm, which she quickly buried into the folds of an unclean rebozo, and went off scampering, without looking back, to try to sell to the next table of customers.
Juanita watched Christopher's eyes closely as he appeared to stare into the depths of his glass filled with slivered ice, crushed mint, thick sugarcane syrup, and rum.
She cocked her head back and drew her eyes down the loggia under which they sat in the late evening on the plaza at Veracruz.
Christopher thought she might be looking for something or someone-he knew he hadn't a clue, really, as to why Juanita was playing whatever game she was playing. But he knew that when he went up the coast it would be alone.
Regardless of the tune Juanita sang as she swooned in his fuck embrace.
Several marimba bands played tropical rhythms that verged lewdly into jazz vamps as the rising conversation at surrounding tables blared through their ears.
"I do like our room at the hotel," Juanita went on blandly, her eyes catching sight of something or someone she recognized. "The balcony overlooking the plaza. The colors of the tiles. So much fun to fuck on the floor-no, Christopher?"
"I guess," he drifted off. "After this quaff, why don't we go down to the waterfront and have ourselves some shrimp and red snapper?"
"I'd like that," she said casually. Her eyes filtered again through the crowd drinking and dining at the open-air cafes. "But I'm not really hungry-I'd nibble, though. And we can listen to the jarochos play in the bars there."
They walked from the plaza, past the government buildings and the old cathedral, through wet-cobbled streets in the darkness toward the docks, passing drunken crews of Russian and Venezuelan merchant sailors looking for hump.
Christopher picked out a place that looked like many of the others, with tiled floors and yellow light, a place where guitarists and harpists played and women and men stamped out La Bamba with stack-heeled ankleboots off to the right as you walked in.
Amidst the din of the music and raucous comradery, over a planchard of garlic shrimp and tall smeared glass tankards of chilled beer, Juanita leaned into Christopher. Spoke to him:
"It's over between us. I know it, Christopher. You don't want me with you anymore. I'm a drag. I'm your mistake. You wish I'd get lost."
"That's not what it is, Juanita. I have a job to do. I told you."
"I'm going with you, Christopher. Even though you don't want me to."
She stood up.
"Juanita--! "
"I won't interfere with your plans, your life, your career." Her eyes flittered about like butterflies. Fingers fidgeted clasped on her belly below her boobcage and above her snatch. "If it makes you feel any better, Christopher-you should know I'm just using you. Okay?"
"If you can play it that way."
"I'm going now, Christopher. Leaving you. But I'll be back soon."
"I don't like the way this sounds."
He quaffed down his brew.
Juanita wasn't around anymore.
Christopher looked toward the door he thought she had walked through. Saw the young lady of the flowers standing there.
Grin wrapped around her face from her chin to the underside of her earlobes. Arms now devoid of her wares. Feet bare. Hair now shining like her eyes as she drew the crust of her shawl away.
Christopher stood up and walked toward the door. Stopped in front of the flower maiden.
"I saw her," she spoke.
"Good girl. Which way did she go?"
"I don't know."
"You mean you won't tell. Of course I'll pay you for the information."
"I can take you."
"Oh-you knew."
"I always do."
"Where is she? Where did she go?"
"Oh-I don't know that. But I know that wherever she goes-she is one of us."
"One of who?"
"Here," she said. "Come with me. I'll show you." Her eyes glowed. "You are Christopher."
"I don't have to guess-you knew that from somewhere in a far-off life in the future and past. Bit of mysticism no doubt. Witchery. Trick you picked up in prison."
"Not like that at all-around this corner, Christopher. I want you to walk with me along the water. I want to be near the sea."
"Please forgive me. This is too uncanny. Should I laugh or be terrified? You're acting as though you've been seeing too many horror movies."
"The sea-it is not fresh. Why should it be? It has been here for eternity. But being near it and sharing its air gives me and the other ones some of our strength. You think it stinks."
"It's certainly a strong brew-I don't think of it as either attractive or repugnant. It just is. Just as blood is blood and flowers are flowers."
"Like flowers? Smell these."
She let her arms drop to her sides. The stifling gulf breeze lifted her robes leadenly. Christopher discerned in the ambient darkness the outlined intimations of her flesh.
Slash of bosom, slice of ass.
Musky scents both floral and piscine emanating from her underarms, rump, and cunt.
"You like, Christopher? This is the night. You want to find your true love? I can't give you that. But I will reveal to you something about yourself."
"Bullshit."
He sniffed the sullen breeze. Fragrance of seashells, spices, rutsweat, and cuntoils assailed his senses. Burned his mind.
Christopher went fuckblind.
"I cannot guarantee to you, Christopher, that you will in the least understand me. But you may come to know yourself."
His erection took flight.
Cock stood up straight in his crotch, from the wadded roar of his nougat to the tip of the pecker-beak, now streaking up his belly.
Prick stretched up to his belt buckle.
She dropped her eyelids.
Lowered her gaze.
"Fly with me, Christopher. To my birdcage."
She took his hand in hers and, without looking around, Christopher bounded along beside her as they shambled along the sidestreets shooting out from the docks past flocks of people in restaurants and cantinas and an array of warehouses, one of which they entered through an unhinged remnant of what was once a door.
"This is the marketplace," she said in a hushed voice. "During the day, here is where we sell fruits and clothing and flowers. When it is dark-enter, please. You shall see wonders."
Christopher peered to the side as she walked slightly in front of him.
Underlit stalls showed views of women heavily painted up, oiled with scented unguents, layered in lace and satin-some of it wrinkled and soiled. Lounging languidly as hothouse blossoms smoking thick tobacco or plinking instruments, not all of them explicitly musical.
Then there appeared other ladies so pure-like wildflowers-wearing no makeup, no clothing at all. The petals of their lobes and globes, the tendrils of their hair, stem-like legs, and the blossoms of their carefully coifed pubic muffs were their entire show-all they had to offer and all anyone needed-to know.
"You can go with them," she said to them. "Have any of them you wish. We are all each other's panders. Or perhaps Christopher would prefer-we can have three if you like. Another one-or two--besides me."
Christopher took a quick gander around the aisles of stalls slinking off in several directions. He saw all textures and complexions of skin-some natural, some painted-from bronze and copper, to magenta and red, to chocolate and coffee and tanned rawhide, pink and arsenic white.
Thicknesses of tits and varieties of cunt lips hung dripping from ribcages and hips.
He licked his lips.
Spittle slipped from his mouth.
Then the inside of his maw went dry.
"Try me first," she hushed. "Brush by me close as you enter. So you pick up my scent."
An uncaged parrot perched chirping "fu-uuu-uuuuucky su-uuu-uuuuucky" on the trapeze of a stirruped body harness hanging from a rough-hewn rafter.
Giltedged dressing screen with paintings of waterfowl, frogs, and fish. Skins and carapaces of the alligator, armadillo, boar, and ocelot were nailed to the wall above a mattress over which richly woven rugs and pillows were tossed about.
All reflected in the skull-shaped mirror of a drawerless vanity strewn with implements from a sexual inquisition.
"My prostibula, Christopher."
He saw the parrot suck upon a dildo.
"See my bonbons," she squeaked.
Her robe flopped over her shoulders.
Tight skin white in the light, seemingly striated with yellows and reds. Surprisingly big boobs bled from her dirty vestments as the stiff material slid down her back, open in the front.
Two rouged nipples pinked and winked.
Parallel ridges of ribs seen through translucent skin, and her flat belly and shallow navel grew out of her disheveled garments.
As her clothes fell off past her knees, Christopher's eyes seized upon her dark encrusted bare feet. Then his gaze flipped up high toward her waist.
He could taste her partly shaven puffed-up muff as he saw her eyelids lower and her irises drift off to the side as though ashamed.
Her mouth parted only slightly and nothing moved inside as she spoke chokingly:
"You don't have to take your clothes off, Christopher. I know how men like to use the cunt, the mouth, the ass. And then get away fast."
"I'm not like that," he said churlishly.
"You should be-you will be. How can you not be like that? You are a poet? Then you are stupid."
She flopped onto the bed, doing a half-flip. Mammaries stuck up wide and momentous in contrast to her thin tailored frame.
Pussmound unbound and towering as she pressed her pelvis up high on stretching legs. Head hanging down off the edge of the mattress both eyes now looking at him and laughing silently.
"You look famished, Christopher."
"I am."
He dove in.
Christopher's lips went straight for her clit. Her bristles jagged into his nose as his tongue ran circles around her engorged clit. He tasted her flesh, drank of her juices. "Oooooh."
His lips curled about her finny labia.
Next he dragged his lolling tongue from her cauldron of cunt over the seamed perimeter of flesh that led to her ass.
He sniffed back up into her snaggling chattering cunt lips. Then blew into her blowhole-anus pulsating slowly like the mouth of a fish.
Liquids erupted in sluices.
Nectar of her nookie mulched in his mouth with his own tart saliva.
Her gams wriggled, crossed at the ankles and then spread wide as he sucked inside the briny moistness of her quim.
Her legs grew long and taut and muscular. She brought them into contact with the hanging body harness. Arched her back.
Bazooms and cunt and rump jumped simultaneously with her head and limbs. In an instant she was hanging upside down over him. Ankles in a set of stirrups. Buttock cheeks split over the rod of the trapeze. Tight-tipped tits hanging like ripened fruit. Cunt split like a pitted mango.
Parrot ca-cawing on one of her toes before fluttering off and landing on the nose end of a dildo lying on the edge of the vanity table.
He flapped his trap open.
Stuck his tongue out straight.
Rain drizzled down her cocked legs, down between and over her boobs.
Wetness slicked her hair and face.
Christopher leapt up into her cleft.
Sucked pissing cunt from the front.
Ate bulging buttocks coated in rutsweat, cunt-come, and urine.
Tracing her face with his now-extended pecker as his sodden clothing came away.
"You fuck me-Christopher, you must fuck me like this. Hanging. Climb on me."
He shimmied his hips from side to side, sliding his tingling twanger and inflated balls into her eyesockets, armpits, between her tits.
He fucked into her bellybutton as he mounted the hanging harness on top of her.
Muck of incipient rut glued their bodies together as he took her in full frontal embrace. Cockhead slid into place at the entranceway of her cunt as though of its own volition.
Peckerbeak incised the volutes of her labia. Furrowing inward with each goad of the prong.
Shlong snapped into snatch.
"Aaaaack."
His hands crawled into her asscrack. Her vagina sheathed the blade of his dick. Stickiness encrusted the insides of their thighs. "I want to get wide. So you can get deeper inside
She flared her gams at the knee. The harness wobbled a bit from the beam upon which it was hung as he slung his hard-on higher into her underbelly.
Quim jiggled like jelly.
She wrenched her hiney from side to side as his cock strutted in and out of her henhouse. His choad strode boldly ahead.
Then with a pull of his rump he retreated out of her fecund furnace to the tip of the prick again.
"You won't come in me, will you, Christopher? I don't want you to. Not yet. I want you to feel me surrounding you. Stewing you in my juices."
Her cunt blew out glugs of ladygoughgough from her flews. Snatchjuices perfumed the tiny room.
Quimoils boiled in globs popped from her twat.
"I'm come-miiiiing! Christopher. You can't come-no. I must climax again. Drive me to it."
Christopher chewed on her face and kneaded her breasts and butt-cheeks as his prick snicked in and out of her quimlipped pout.
"Ai-yiii-yiiiii!"
Her legs flailed toward the sky. Jizzom jumped from his bull shit. "Aiiiii."
"Now."
"Or never."
His cockmeat took a bite from her beaver. Prickjuice broke loose from his ballooning sack of roasted nuts.
He bucked his butt.
Cockcome glutted her pumping puss.
"Ulgch."
Semen slid from her cunt lips down her upside down front. Globules of jizz rolled into her navel.
Christopher's head hung heavy with dizziness as the harness in which they frictioned spun around slowly, herky-jerking in one direction. Stopping. Then spinning faster in the other direction.
His erection slipped from her vagina and he stabbed it hurriedly at her anus.
Assmeat quirked in contortions as the oiled head of his still-hard pecker ran in rings about her rosehole. He bored in.
"Uuunh. Unh. Unh."
Gored her fanny past the cockhead. Anular ring strangling the prick at the neck.
She flipped like a fish on a hook.
Body twisted on both sides of him-flame-like legs hugging his face. Splayed labia smooching his belly. Asshole eating his dingdong.
Friction and torsion tore the center of gravity from out of his backbone and whitened his brain. Clitoris grinned at him like the head of a fish from inside of her bed of seaweed twatfrizz.
His mind and body came unhinged. He buckled at the waist. Spasms of his mouth clenched up both sides of his face.
Eyes saw into outer space.
"Now the other end," Christopher said aimlessly. "I can't keep my balance like this."
He snagged his penis from her anus, which snapped shut with a crisp squeak.
Dredged his moist balls up her belly and between her tits.
Fucked her hanging there in indelicate balance. Driving his prick between her breasts while she caressed them tighter about him.
Then breaking into a free rut up into her face.
Her body coiled like a sea serpent and undulated against him from head to toe. Fulsome breasts wriggled against his rib cage. Cuntlips writhed inside his thighs.
"Ahajah!"
Christopher lost control of his limbs and slipped off sidewise. Gripped her tits with his fists and torqued with her into another position.
Her mouth encased his pecker. Then grabbed at his nuts and engulfed one.
"Ngh."
She twisted the marble in her maw.
Cracked it in her jaw.
"Eaugh."
Pressed the tender morsel of nutmeat against her teeth with widened wet flesh of tongue. "Mmmmm."
Prickmeat, hammered in her fist, burst with a singe of syrup-this time just a few peaky dollops of creaming jizzom.
Candying her face.
Glazing her mouthlips.
Sleeking her facecheeks.
Christopher felt weak.
Woozy.
He dropped off the harness and onto the mattress as she once again scattered freshets of pizzle over his spent form in a warming drizzle.
The parrot cackled:
"Fu-uuu-uuuuucky. Su-uuu-uuuuucky. Chinga. Bengue. Chocha. La puta de orina Florencita. Tomele ella. Buenos noches."
*****
"So, Christopher," Juanita said sweetly, sitting up on the edge of their bed as he came in sullenly through the foyer of their hotel room. "You see, I had to be alone-I mean, not alone. By myself. I went around to some cantinas-you know? Sang with the musicians and danced with the men and other women. We-you and I-were getting too close-I never wanted you to think I was attached to you."
"You figured I'd do okay on my own," blown shakily from his lips. "Once you had flown."
"Our little Florencita wanted to treat you. And of course you are an old Mexico hand. You've seen it all before. Done everything-no?"
He screwed his lips together.
Drew his tongue in and out to savor the vestiges of Florencita's flavors. His gaze passed out the opened glass-paned doors to the balcony and beyond as he walked out without looking behind him at the lace-draped, bathed and perfumed Juanita, who lay back casually, now smoking a cigarette and sipping from a small bottle of tequila.
Christopher saw a line of youthful women bearing baskets of flowers move slowly across the plaza, now for the most part silent and uninhabited. The bells of the governor's palace rang.
He focused his vision on the asses and backs and bare feet of the flower maidens as they approached the architraved loggia at the far corner of the square, whereseveral men and women sat drinking and laughing in the early morning air.
Maidens of blossoming quims, bud-like boobs, and awash in the morning with pissmist dew.
Their scents kissed the hazy humid air.
Christopher could taste them wanted more as he stared without sight.
One of them turned and waved.
SIX
Pullulation of penis in mound of Venus. Jizzom jumped up inside writhing quim like salmon on a spawning run. Guadalupe wriggled her ass. Cockbeak chirped out from her noshing nookie. Gobs of Marlborough's cooking come slunk from his juddering head of pecker.
Snickering snatch yakked up a chunk of sourmilk crudeoils extruded from both of them as they bucked together in heat of rut.
They separated just far enough to cool off and have a few quaffs of lime and mezcal on the rocks with sparkling spring water.
Began playing with each other once again.
"Into me, Marlborough. Grip me."
"I haven't been out of you since you got here in Mexico City, Guadalupe. Have I?"
"Not for an instant. Feed me again."
"I'll devour you first."
He blurted between her cuntal flews. Chewed the labyrinthine insides of her labia.
Tongue striving forward and slickering the slit with saliva and ladyjuice.
He goosed her with stray fingers in the front and back. Fingers crawling up her fluttering ass. Zinging into her singing clit.
Phalanges rampant between the petulant petals of her flowery froth of quim.
"In, Marlborough. I want you in."
Slowly and steadily he fed his fingers into her, starting with the thumb.
Fucking her digitally.
Coring her with well-muscled forearm.
He fistrucked her in the belly-jabbing tightly coiled fingers into her quim.
Bringing her to sultry orgasm.
"Yes. More."
Marlborough then drubbed a thumb up
Guadalupe's ass. Corkscrewed it in. "Unh. Tight."
He brought her underbelly to his face. Placed his mouthpucker on her ass-hole sucker.
Slipped inside wrinkled round of rump with pointed tongue. Flickered the tongue tip like the tail of a lizard.
"Ululululu."
"Loose?"
"Which is better?"
He then pummeled into her ass-hole playfully, rolling five phalanges and one thumb up her bunghole until her anus twitched gripping his wrist.
The telephone bipped and Marlborough decided to get it.
"Shit," Guadalupe spat. "I guess you should answer that."
"It might be a message," Marlborough choked, attempting the stretch with his free hand and not quite making it to the receiver. "Or, better yet, Cartier-Bischoff himself."
"That fucking cocksmith," Guadalupe gagged. "Cartier-Bischoff wanted me to bitchbind and forcefuck another of his doxies when I showed up at his office. Mistook me for one of the whores he had ordered-I made him apologize."
"That was undoubtedly meant by him as a compliment, Guadalupe-and you should take it as such. Cartier-Bischoff is esteemed internationally as a man of the most rarefied tastes."
"I showed him his place-on his knees in front of me. Face forward toward my pissing pussy."
Phone bleated and choked as the answering machine assemblage clicked on.
"After this little chat," Marlborough mumbled, "we can get back to that. Fistruck you in the ass and cunt at the same time-huh?"
"How about fistrucking in the mouth," Guadalupe pouted. Eyes twinkled and widened. "I can do it to you then-tee hee hee."
The speaker of the answering machine erupted with a shower of static outlining and obscuring the voice of an incoming caller.
"Freeze, if you please, Guadalupe. This is strictly business."
He reached for the receiver, falling backward on the mattress of the bedroom office that through one-way mirrored glass looked out onto the saloon and restaurant where mariachis played loudly and lewdly to amuse the convivial company of caballeros only partly in their pants and dancing chiquitas whose eyes flicked like castanets and whose rouged and lubed boobs were in evidence above their lowered lace bodices, and whose gams were unsheathed beneath the raised and flounced hems of their wide multilayered skirts.
A pair of thickened mouthlips thunked onto Marlborough's prick as he yanked the telephone receiver off the rack.
Mouthlips smeared with pigmented lip gloss flossed with pubic hairs between chittering teeth. Tongue lassoed lingam and worked mucoid juices into the head and down the thick-veined trunk.
"Marlborough here. This Cartier-Bischoff I'm talking to? Yeah-I thought it was you. Lot of fuzz on the connection."
He looked down at the moving maw of the woman chewing his erection.
"Yeah, Guadalupe's here. Just got in. Want me to put her on? Just as soon as she gets my dick out of her mouth. Go on, Cartier-Bischoff-that's called a joke. Even if it isn't funny."
Guadalupe gulped with the twanger stuck in her craw. The prickmeat thickened intensely with her oral suction.
"Continue, please. You do understand the terms Guadalupe outlined to you-no?"
The deep dense blood of erection bloated the bull shit and extended the pecker. Marlborough tuned his vision onto Guadalupe's bellowing facecheeks and crinkled mouthlips twisting around the hammerhead dong. Mouthing gonads.
"Shall I refresh your memory, Cartier-Bischoff?"
Marlborough's body buckled forward over Guadalupe's suckling form. Lodging his dong in her gullet almost to the point of choking.
"Okay. Now let me just run it on by you again, Cartier-Bischoff. A recap of the situation should put everything into perspective."
Marlborough jutted his rump.
Dork corked through her mouth again. Tracked the top of her palate until she gagged. Cockhead grew wider and barred her throat.
"You had it all set up nice and smooth," Marlborough chewed. "Didn't you, Cartier-Bischoff? But then the Internal Revenue Service wanted to talk to you about the declaration of the value of certain pieces in your art collection you had slated for donation to the museum and for which you accordingly whacked out a big tax write-off."
Guadalupe boffed into Marlborough's bull shit with loose fists. Turning the nuts over and over again slowly. As she strummed his stinger with her flickering tongue.
"They thought-let me correct myself, Cartier-Bischoff. They suspected some of the stuff in your collection might have been forged or the value artificially inflated-straight so far?"
Guadalupe took his ass in her hands.
She began to run her tongue around the base of Marlborough's wrangler, strangling the cockmeat with herky-jerked bites of her teeth even as the pricktip bored down her throat.
Marlborough grunted once-a long and unintelligible muted roar, as Guadalupe bore down upon his whanger with both hands gripping his testicles and with her head buried between his legs. Her head snapped up and she faced toward his jabbering jaw with two burning eyeballs.
She whipped Marlborough once across his face with her sweat-sweetened tresses.
"Now in order to lose the evidence, so to speak, Cartier-Bischoff, certain pieces of art were to disappear. That part is clear."
Marlborough flexed the muscles of his rear end and haunch. He brought his knees up to his chest. Pecker reached nearly to his chin.
Guadalupe jacked him with an open palm and ran several spare fingernails around and around and around again the rim of his ass-hole.
"But the next part gets a little murky. Dirty Juanita was slated to take the fall-after all you and Gato planned to do-the number with Macho Camacho. Robbing your collection-and then you collect the insurance. So you still make out."
Guadalupe tugged Marlborough's twanger from side to side, sliding her lips down the shaft until at last her mouth was free of it.
She then placed the pecker alongside her neckmeasured it to see how low it would go if she took it in down to the nuts again.
"It was a good idea, Cartier-Bischoff. I admire it. Good way to get the IRS out of it-if you juggle the books a little and claim the intended donation of the articles in question was not formally completed-only a few nuances there they could screw you around with if they really wanted to."
Guadalupe bounded up between Marlborough's thighs. Pressed his prong along the outside of her cunt. Measured the length again and giggled as she saw the long dong extend to her bellybutton.
Tits jiggled jelly-like.
"Of course then you're dealing with insurance investigators. And they're true professionals, aren't they, Cartier-Bischoff? Unlike the revenue crew or or the stud dudes of the constabulary."
Marlborough bit his lips as Guadalupe flipped herself over bottom-up.
Pipped his pecker at her blowhole and placed it in the cranny of her asscrack. She ran her extended fingers along the lingam.
Gauging how far it went into her innards when it was stuck up her hinders.
"So it turns out you had to cross Gato and Macho Camacho-true, Cartier-Bischoff, in exemplary high style you got them out of it-at the expense of the girl. You had Dirty Juanita all set up in an abandoned whorehouse out in the desert across the state line-thus violating the terms of her bond."
Marlborough began rotating his pelvis upward as Guadalupe crouched over him with her legs splayed.
She moved slowly up and down-holding his twanger steady as she kissed the head of his hammer with her cunt lips.
"It was never intended that Dirty Juanita would make a rendezvous with some mules to take her across the border-I was tipped off in order to pick her up. It would then be obvious-in the intricacies of your scheme-I don't know everyone you were paying off-Gato and Macho Camacho go free and our Dirty Juanita does the time."
Guadalupe warped her body serpentinely. She loaded Marlborough's face with her blimp-like bazooms. Nipples mushroomed between his teeth.
"So I fuck it all up for you, Cartier-Bischoff. Or thought I did. Run off with the little twist, I do. Dirty Juanita's convicted in her absence and the two bravos are now free-Gato and Macho Camacho are roving all over the place doing good deeds for the-likes of you and El Pluton."
Guadalupe lowered herself onto Marlborough once more. This time scoring the outsides of her ass-hole donut with his burgeoning head of cock.
She felt the jizzom moving slowly like molten lead up from his crackling nuts toward his cockhead. She grabbed the dick at the neck.
Twisted the peckerhead.
Marlborough cringed the sphincters of his anus and prick simultaneously. The jizzom staggered in his prick. After a series of hammering wrist lunges, the spermlet retreated in droves down the spermatic cords back toward the bull shit.
"Unh. Nothing much, Cartier-Bischoff. Of course I'm good. That's why the insurance company got in touch with me. If I can put the stinger into this case, arrangements are in order for an all-clear for me. My record's wiped clean. I never mated with that spicy filth Juanita. I get to keep my nightclub here in Mexico-plus a big cash bonus. No one can do diddly-no fucking government-I only have to worry about you. And maybe this El Pluton."
Marlborough wound about Marlborough's waist. She knelt with her thighs over his hips. Tits pushed straight into his face.
Nipples rooting about in his snout. Tips of tit flitting into his eyesockets.
Nib of nipple blipping across his mouthlips.
"So, Cartier-Bischoff. Let's say we help each other off of this joyride. If those artifacts are returned to your possession, mate-everything's going to be Jake as far as the insurance boys are concerned. Assuming everything's in order, you retain your estate-but it's got to be reappraised. No-fault reassessment-copasetic, ain't it?"
Guadalupe dribbled viscous saliva from her lower lip as she sucked Marlborough's face. Wiggled her cunny on the curve of his pronghorn.
"But in order to do that, Cartier-Bischoff-I may have to pay a visit to El Pluton down Veracruz way to see that everything gets back through customs okay-what do you say?"
Cuntlips snicksnacked as they embraced the juddering head of his pullulating pecker.
Marlborough felt the gape of Guadalupe's trim quim as she eased herself onto him. Sucked his dingalingdong in.
"No, Cartier-Bischoff. I don't know everything. Not all at once. Questions are: Where exactly is the El Pluton operation? And, considering the circumstances, do you by way of introduction inform El Pluton that we are coming? Or do you not warn El Pluton? This is of course assuming the purloined goods in question are, as planned, in El Pluton's safekeeping."
Marlborough's cockbeak reamed the cream off the insides of Guadalupe's cunthide.
"That's swell, Cartier-Bischoff. You do that. And you know where that Dirty Juanita is at? I kind of took a liking to her-might be nice to get her off the hook too-as part of the package. No, I'm not just a goodhearted niceguy. Her kind of talent is precious and not to be wasted."
Guadalupe tasted the yeasty ferment of her own come bustling through her insides. Fucksweat smarmed from her underarms.
Perspiration of rut sleeked her hair sluttishly. Assoils uncoiled in slight mucoid curls from the centerpiece of her blowhole.
Cuntnectar exploded in orgasmic flashes from her gobbling goodies.
Her hair flew out from her head as she bounced up and down on his prong. She bit her lips and chewed them rudely as she arched her back.
Drove cock into her groin higher. Pricktip jabbing her spine from inside.
"Good of you to mention that, Cartier-Bischoff. Nice to know you liked Guadalupe when you met her. Well, naturally, the message from me she delivered to you regarding this little affair of ours was the main point of her visit. Afraid not. She really only-likes women-get it? But nonetheless I will extend to her your compliments."
Guadalupe winked at Marlborough through the slinky wet tendrils of her hair as he drilled his cockmeat into her cunt.
Climax scurried through her eyes. The first twist of orgasm spasmed her cunny. Asshole quirked and undulations rose up her spine. Paroxysms of bliss gripped her clitoris.
Jizzom creamed her innards.
SEVEN
Labyrinth of labia encased his face. Suction of Juanita's cunt lips upon Christopher's tongue pulled him forward as she backed off.
Ass now pressed to the pole inside the hut that was one of the struts holding up the wide hammock and its canopy of mosquito netting, Juanita loaded her labia into his cheeks.
She wove her hands down and squeezed Christopher's curvature of dong.
Played her palms along his hard-on. Twisted his nuts in her fist.
The roars of howler monkeys echoed from crotches and boughs in the overhanging mahogany and ffuitwood trees among the wild orchids high above the thatched roofs and canvas tents of the jungle encampment.
Birds blew whistles and tweets-harsh-voiced scarlet macaws ca-cawed crudely. Iridescent mot-mots shook paddle-tipped tailfeathers at each other and squeezed out mating calls while cruising on the breeze engendered by the drop of the waterfalls in the river running through the unexcavated archeological site.
A lone spotted jungle cat slid from the river's edge with a fish in its maw. Feline pawed its prey apart with taloned claws.
Big wild pussycat sucked down fish.
"Bra-aaack!"
Belched.
Lay itself serenely on the exposed masonry facing of the side of a jungle-coated pyramid and went to sleep.
"They're out there," Juanita said in a hushed voice. "The wild things of the rainforest. I want to be just like them, Christopher."
"You're awfully gung-ho for a certified city girl, Juanita. You didn't like it when the mosquitos got to your butt last night."
"It felt kind of nice to itch-and to have you scratch it."
"There are more things than mosquitos down here to give you the bite. Ever see a big tarantula? A really big tarantula, I mean. As big as the one crawling on the floor now, over by the doorflap. Ever seen one that big before?"
"I'll ignore that, Christopher-even I know tarantulas aren't very dangerous. They just look threatening is all."
Juanita's liquidly shifting pussy prowled all over Christopher's mouth. Her engorged clitoris drove into each one of his nostrils.
He played with her ass-hole.
Felt with quick fingers at the posterior aperture of her fundamental canal. Spread her butt-cheeks wide.
Sped his phalanges inside her breech.
"Christopher-the morning is come-I know you have to leave me now. Nourish yourself well on me before you go. I beg of you." She cast her eyes away, batted her lashes limpidly. "I know she's coming into camp today. Don't worry if she comes between us-okay? It's her way."
Christopher sucked Juanita's pussy as he spoke:
"I surely didn't mean for it to be like this."
"I've seen her effect on you-even when she hasn't been here. She's the one who you were going to be with before-those were her tickets you had with you when you met me."
"It's not as though we're going togetherAlexandra and I are just friends."
"And what are friends for if not as partners in the fuck-and-suck rut?"
"Are you and I friends, Juanita?"
"I don't know. But regardless, Christopher. I still want to play the fuck with you."
She ground her labia into his face.
Pushed her pussy right into his teeth. Crushing his lips between.
Creaming cuntbrew into his chewing cheeks.
Bodies lathered with fuckoils squeaked together. Feathery twatfur painted his barbed beard growth with fragrant juices.
"You can loosen me up a bit more, Christopher. Just for fun, before you go in."
Christopher ran a finger up Juanita's ass. Her hiney shuddered and quaked.
He slid another digit in.
Her haunch began shimmying.
Tits bounced on top of his head.
More fingers now spread up into her anal orifice.
He suckered the head of her clitbud.
Scraped the bristle of his growth of beard into the lining of her cunt. Barbed her twat with the short hairs of his jaw as he chewed her down.
"Yes, Christopher. Fuck me fast. Now. I can come so ha-aaa-aaaaard when you come off in me."
The hammock shook as Christopher slid inside Juanita's gams. He ran his tongue up from her slit, pipped her clit again for a moment.
Sucked her navel inside out. , Brought his snout up to her bazooms. Tongued across the tight and thickened nipples. Sucked up into her armpits.
"Kiss me," she blistered.
Mouthlips-sluicing loose saliva and feeling parched at the same time-clutched at each other. Their lingual organs danced the two-tongue tango dangling down each other's throats.
Juanita went boneless in the legs. Cuntlips snicksnacked open. Head lolled back with mouth gaped open and tongue sliding off to the side.
Pusskins jumped onto hard-on.
Wildcunt on the prowl.
Springing hungrily upon living prey. Feline snatch took fish-like penis in down the hatch.
Both their bodies gave way.
The hammock rumbled and shook. Monkeys growled, famished and mean.
Bees buzzed copulating in flight.
Birds carped overhead and spread their tail-feathers snidely. Draped their wings lewdly as orgies of spider monkeys fucked each other off, chittering while watching the birds and the bees.
"Aiiiiinh!"
Juanita careened to one side in juddering orgasm.
The lurch of her pusskins urged Christopher's come from his nuts.
He butted in and out of her with manic frenzy.
Jizzom caulked into her cunny.
Cuntnectar spewed from Juanita's honeycombed quim ran in scalding rivulets down the insides of both their thighs.
White-hot jungle-sap laced with fragrant traces of cinnamon and chocolate and orchids foamed up between their rutting haunches. Bunches of ladyjuice and gnarled latex of prick smutched between them as they fucked.
Bodies stuck together in heat. Cuntlips eating flesh. Teeth taunting swollen reddened pecker. Tits hot as burning embers.
Assholes yammering for exploring organs.
Zap of orgasm spasmed Christopher's face and limbs. A rictus climbed both sides of Juanita's face as her eyes bugged off into outer space.
Her ass-hole groaned.
Pusslips moaned.
Clitbud sang.
She climbed another rung of the ladder of climax as Christopher slid his love dart in once again up past her bladder and pierced her heart.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Christopher heard something-or nothing. Saw something-or not.
He jerked his head up.
Saw the shadow on the tent flap move away.
"Hello?" Juanita brayed.
"Quiet, Juanita," Christopher said. "I'm not sure-who goes there?" Silent pause.
Eruption of ca-caws and roars. Animals flapping in the air and swaying in the trees. A voice:
"Juanita--? I must have the wrong hut. Excuse me please. Could I bother you to-would you be able to tell me tell me where I might find a Mister Christopher Mattock? This is Doctor Alexandra Wade. I'm a friend of his."
*****
Dirty Juanita walked from the campsite kitchen carrying an armful of empty plastic buckets she used to draw water from the well next to the claypits where lean Totonaca and Huasteca maidens and youths labored mining out material to be used in the manufacture of ceramics, which had been a traditional industry at the site for at least the past two thousand years.
Some of the young women wore brassieres or halter tops.
Juanita did not.
She had her tits out and a dirty loincloth wrapped about her hips.
She noticed that some of the male kids-even though they were more than familiar with the nippled lobes of a woman's torso, as that part of the female form often went unadorned in these climes-sported hard-ons and flushed faces when they came within Juanita's playful gaze.
Juanita saw several girls flash barracuda grins straight at her quim.
One sawtoothed bitchkin kneaded a loaf of wet clay in a basin. Juanita watched her as she squeezed out deep and bright blue pigment from the clay and poured it off into a ceramic beaker.
Juanita sauntered over to her, nipples taut and pulled into points.
There was a chill of recognition as Juanita discerned the gamine face clearly as it peered at her openly from underneath the folds of a tattered rebozo wrapped round head and torso.
"Florencita," Juanita said through still lips.
"Dirty Juanita-hawhaw haw. I am Florencita to you and to many others. In the Huasteca Maya tongue, your Florencita is known as Nikte-Ha."
"The same name as the waterlily nymph who feeds men her lotus blossom and seduces them to watery demise between her thighs."
"So the old stories go. I haven't done that yet."
"Why not," Juanita tittered with the back of one hand before her yip.
"You know another one I like, Juanita. Of all those imaginary creatures they made up legends about-I think the Ixtab is a lot of fun."
"Wasn't she the one who among the Maya of Yucatan is said to be the snakewoman strangler of masculine danglers?"
"Bitchmistress of wild beasts-not much different from training men."
"You can say that again. It was she who was the sly worker of the assassin's garrote and the patroness of the trapper's snare. The jungle hunt for fresh flesh past midnight-no?"
"The tales say so. And she had a little taste for the chocha too-yes? Huntress of the cunt."
"You like the thought of that-huh?"
"I think, Juanita, we rightly reserve that title for you."
"You think I have done that?"
"In matters of the spirit it is the thought that counts. And there's not too much importance in a name, after all, is there? Around here theTotanacas call a type of lady whose traits you might like to assume Lupita la Chupita."
"Little she-wolf sucksister," Juanita spoke with intense solemnity, gloating with incipient pride and laughter. "I guess that means," Juanita blushed and choked, "she takes it in the kisser."
"And gives it, Juanita. She gives it too. The way you can do it if you learn how to."
Florencita threw her head back. Untwisted her rebozo from where it was wound about her braided and beaded hair.
She then undraped the rebozo from her shoulders and from about her torso. Smooth skin stippled with blue striation.
"Tattooed tatas, Florencita-I mean, Nikte-Ha."
"They're new."
"I'd like some too."
Florencita pulled her teeth out from her yip and slid the edges of her mouthlips up the sides of her face. Licked out:-
"See the blue dye we extract from this clay? Used in the decorations of the pottery and statues we make here. And this blue is used for painting and coloring the body for ceremonial occasions."
"Can I-how do I say it? What do I mean?"
"I got these designs on mine," Florencita said thumbing one bullet-like nipple, "as an initiation."
"What did you have to do-I mean-can I ask that? Or is it a secret?"
"It is a secret. But there are ways for one like you to know."
Florencita tugged on one bud-like but enormous dug. Pulled out the nipple between thumb and forefinger. Juanita took a half-step forward.
Their lips met.
Twin strands of saliva ran between their lips and drooped snapping off onto their boobs. The two women stood with their groins together, frictioning, chittering:
"How do you do, waterlily nymphette."
"Strangle me, my snakelady sucksister."
*****
"You gored that spic whore, Christopher," Alexandra eructed vapidly over tea, sitting at a folding card table in the commissary tent. "Fucked her in front of me-practically."
"You weren't expected so soon. I'm sorry, but I make no excuses."
"The plane left early-there's bad weather due this afternoon."
"That's why I have to fly out of here soon. To get the flight tracked for today over with before the winds come. Alexandra-I'd like to talk with youabout us. After I get back."
"I can smell her on you-I want to puke."
Christopher saw Alexandra's pale colorless eyes focus nowhere and not look at anything. Her ultra-white skin and ashen hair were a startling glaze in the early morning jungle light.
"I see your smutchy little cuntlet now, Christopher." Alexandra said in a breath tinged with bile. "Off in the distance, as they say. She's sticking her titties into some other little mongrel dyke's face. Playing bitchkiss-the-mistress down at the mudflats.
She's almost dirty enough for you to fool around with."
"Would you rather I have lied to you, Alexandra? Come up with an absurd excuse?"
"Maybe. I'm out of cigarettes." She sneered into his ear with soft misty voice. "I wonder who I have to fuck around here to get a smoke."
Christopher choked on his coffee.
Followed the hitch of Alexandra's fanny as she twitched her ass out of there. Christopher picked up his camera and zipped his flight vest.
He nodded to the pilot Consuela, a lithe lady of mixed Mexican complexion sitting alone at a folding table in the far corner, hair dark as raw chocolate tinged with a halo of auburn and copper highlights in the refracted sunlight.
Consuela pursed her carmine-painted mouth and rose to her feet, tubular boobs falling half out of her unzipped tropical flightsuit.
Looking down both sides of her nose at Christopher. Flaring her lips and nostrils. Scenting him. Turning about with her eyes thrown back at him over her shoulder.
"Ready to fly away with me, Christopher?" Consuela mauled through insinuating maw. "You remember to bring the camera and the film todayeh?"
*****
Alexandra unzipped her medical kit and proceeded to give vaccinations to the coterie of young women and men queued up for the occasion. She jabbed needle after needle into firm rumpmeat.
Male or female, Alexandra respected the human flesh. It was Alexandra's view that physicians should be attuned to the manifold varieties of human experience. The entire spectrum of human emotion from transcendent delirium to pressurized rageAlexandra gauged she was not much different from others, whether they resided in the urban acid rainforest jungle of New York, or in the raped semivirginal bush of the selva floor.
Alexandra had, she knew, overreacted to Christopher's dalliance with Dirty Juanita. But Alexandra now admitted to herself frankly that she was looking for an excuse to hang herself loose.
She had served volunteer stints in the tropics regularly all during medical school, and since her recent graduation she had been attached as an intern primarily in the tropical medicine branch of a hospital clinic in Miami.
But all this time Alexandra had abstained from anything but whitemeat cock. Sure, she had sucked and fucked several Jewboy pricks. Played the pussycunt with a couple of Nip pixies.
But when on assignment in the jungle, she had, cautiously, kept her distance-save for her occasional fling in the hammock or cot with fellow whitebread medical students or, lately, with Christopher when their paths crossed.
Alexandra squirted the last syringe into the final fanny that had lined up in front of her as the taut-skinned young woman bent forward, legs parted, hands on her knees. The girl scratched her ass after the injection.
Cheeks split for an instant.
Alexandra licked her lips at the coffee-colored anal pucker and the vermilion red of the pouting pusskins seen from the rear.
"Hi. You with the needle. You do that very well. Pleased to meet you. I'm Florencita. You'll come and see us later, won't you ? We have a party tonight down by the clay mines. By the ballcourt in front of the pyramids in the plaza."
"Oh-rather kind of you to invite me-uhFlorencita. But I must get to sleep early this evening. I have to fly out early tomorrow."
"I know. To attend others in need."
"Yes. Others in the forest."
"You'll be back, won't you?"
"I'll be operating out of this camp for a few weeks. I suppose I'll be in and out."
"I know. I've seen you here before. Come tonight if you can, Alexandra. You can just stay a little while. Hear us sing and see us dance?"
"I might," Alexandra said tightly. "Thank you again, Florencita."
"Keep it tight around here, Alexandra."
"What?"
"Lots of times lately things have been out of control. But I'll shut my mouth now. It's just that kind of season. Rainy and muddy. Makes you nuts."
"Thanks for the warning," Alexandra said huur-riedly and turned about.
She walked toward the commissary tent with the urge for caffeine and smoke in her mouth. Two men stood just inside the net-flap doorway, close to each other, facing toward her. They both hoisted large dark duffelbags on their shoulders as they chatted with each other.
Alexandra recognized them as those she had seen on the dirt landing strip just before dawn, arriving at the encampment just after she did in another light aircraft. One of the men gallantly stood back out of the way as Alexandra entered, while the other Spanish-speaking gentleman held the flap open for her passage.
"Excuse me," one of the men said to her. "Have you seen Juanita? We have a message for her."
"I think," the other one shot in without portraying particular interest, "that Juanita may be new here. You might not know her yet."
Alexandra reeled back stiffly and snarled:
"What do you want with that rabid little bitch?" Alexandra slid from her lips, punctuated with a nostril twitch of indifference.
"Ahajah, Gato," one man said to the other. "You see? What I tell you? When Macho Camacho says he knows-you better believe him."
"It shouldn't be too difficult to tail that one's dirty slit," Alexandra milked from her gullet. "You should be able to smell her clear across the border."
"You are speaking of my sister," Gato said to Alexandra, leaning in close enough to kiss her. "She is like family to me."
"The only way she's like your sister," Macho Camacho hissed, "is that you, Gato, so lovingly fucked her senseless."
"So that's how Dirty Juanita got that way," Alexandra brayed. "If I were you two bravos I would look for her in the obvious places. She's either playing water sports in the scullery or pigging out on chiquita chicharron in the mudpits."
"It's okay," Macho Camacho said evenly. "We only have to know that she's here."
"What affairs we have with Juanita," Gato lithed out from between tight teeth, "can wait until later. This evening would be convenient."
"You boys have any tobacco sticks on you?"
"Cigar?" Macho Camacho chewed.
"That will do nicely," Alexandra said icily.
Gato clicked his eyes to Macho Camacho, then spoke to Alexandra:
"You know the people hereabouts?"
"I work with them. I'm a doctor. I give them medicine. Thanks for the light."
"Please call me Gato," his eyes lit. "I'm an ethnologist. Meet my friend whom we call Macho Camacho. We're both doing some work here."
Macho Camacho tipped his brim: "I freelance for an archeological consultation firm. I was educated as an anthropologist and my main field of study-" he tapped his duffel "-is martial arts tradition."
Gato jostled his own sack: "We're going over to the ballcourt by the pyramid complex now and work out. Macho Camacho can show you some interesting moves with the machete-if you want to come with us."
Alexandra sucked her cigar thoughtfully, though she had already made her decision.
Macho Camacho added dashingly: "Join us."
Alexandra clucked: "Wouldn't do any harm to observe, I guess. It might be fnn."
She saw they both had hard-ons.
*****
Alexandra watched the dance of male flesh as Gato and Macho Camacho circled about each other, crouched, wielding machetes and wearing proctec-tive masks. Their asses stuck out bare behind padded-pouch loincloths. Alexandra lay her smoldering cigar down on a stone lining the ancient ballcourt arena and walked between them.
"You going to let me play now?" she blew out from her mouth. "I think I get the jist."-
She placed her hands with fingernails extended onto their bare shoulders and trailed them down their backs to their asscracks.
"We will show her the intricacies of the duelo now," Gato spoke.
"Perhaps," Macho Camacho cooed, "we should let her show us a few things too."
She took her fingers away from their flesh and brought them to her neck.
Alexandra untied her bandana. Flipped open her blouse.
White tits blipped out.
Pink nipples, taut and red, came to tapered nibs on the bouncy protuberances of her boobcage. She stepped from her jungle shorts.
Pusshairs gleamed from inside her sweat-sweetened panties.
She pushed them down her gams.
Left her boots on.
"You don't have to do this," Gato said gallantly.
"But, Gato, my friend," Macho Camacho jawed. "I think the lady wants a kiss."
Alexandra twisted her face into a mask and attacked. She had Macho Camacho down on his back and drew his loinpiece back.
Gato folded his body over Alexandra's hinders and took his tempered twanger between his ringers.
"Yes," Alexandra said. "I'm ready for this. Kiss my ass, Gato. I'll kiss Macho Camacho's dick."
Macho Camacho's prickstem stood up in a sculptured hardwood curve. Cockroots buried in the nest of bull shit from which it sprung.
Alexandra rolled out her tongue.
Dropped her head.
Bent with her ass stuck up in back toward Gato's dong and her mouthlips thunked down upon the tip of Macho Camacho's dick.
"Uuuuunh."
Gato twirled his fingers around Alexandra's twitching pink clitoris.
Flailed her hinders and quim orally and digitally, jacking himself off on the backs of her thighs like a mutt gone fuckmad for bitchmeat.
Alexandra ran her fist up and down the length of Macho Camacho's thick limber lingam.
She suckered the tumescent member down the side of the shank, yanking pudhairs with her teeth.
Tracing the raised veins filled with the flowing dense blood of erection.
Gato tractioned Alexandra's body backward onto his lap. The mushroom cap of his prong jammed into the juiced lining of her outer labia.
Alexandra gobbled gonads and jacked jimjam. She ran her hands along Macho Camacho's ass and thighs as his nutcase billowed out.
Cock grew longer and harder. Gato sliced upward from the rear. "Eiiinh."
Cuntjuice squirted from Alexandra's swollen pusskin as the edge of Gato's pecker wedged into the quim. Striking up past the head.
"Unh."
Pulling out a bit with vacuum suction and wet snorts eructing from her twatlips. Gato then lunged in. "Yiii."
Twanged his fleshly saber high into the innards of her riverine forest. His fuckblade cut through her quivering cuntmeat.
Her teeth ate Macho Camacho's dickmeat.
Alexandra bleated as Gato's peckerbeak worked in and out of her cuntal pout. She clutched Macho Camacho's prick to her face and sucked the cock-head, licked the length, chewed upon nougat.
While prickmeat raced through her foliage.
Cuntoils boiled and flew from the lips of her twat, spattering the surface upon which they cringed. Macho Camacho took hold of Alexandra's head by her wet tresses. Dashed his dingdong in and out of her mouth.
Hammering yawning carnivorous oral cavity with depravely yammering hard-on.
With gravity, Gato shot off a hot wad of jizzom into Alexandra's stuttering cunt.
"Uuuuulgch."
Macho Camacho leaned back dizzily. Trailers of cockcome uncoiled from his twanger as he banged at Alexandra's face with his sizzling penis.
Alexandra tasted the jizz fizzing giddily on her tongue as Macho Camacho laced her hair with a lariat of his fermenty joyjuice.
Gato writhed as he pumped off more jizzom inside Alexandra's puling quim. Pulled out and squeezed off the final flourishes onto the lower halves of white-cheeked ass now caked with dust and rutjuice.
Alexandra sucked dick ravenously. Licking the remnants of spermlet mucilage from the mushroomy head and mauling the bull shit with her gape.
"Make no mistake," Gato said. "After this break we can go at it again."
"Who says there's a break?" Alexandra quaked as she ate up Macho Camacho's dick. "We've so much to do yet. Fuck into me fast. Again. Make me come quick. And juice me up with yours too. From both ends."
EIGHT
Stripped white bitchmeat on a spit.
Impaled on one hard-on dead-on in the kisser. And skewered from the rear, Alexandra was.
"Fuck me more, boys," she slurred with rolling mucoid tongue. "I want Gato in my groin. Macho Camacho with his prick between my tits."
Gato took a hit at Alexandra's hinders with the flat of a machete.
"Wheee!"
Macho Camacho flickered a switch of knotted leather across her nipples. "Yes-sss-sssss."
Tits whipped to hot redness of coals. Quim dripping searing juices. Alexandra basted rumproast and tubesteaks of rutting longpig on the living loin with her sapid cuntoils.
Rutsweat ran in flourishing sluices between her ultra-white boobs and the candied lobes of her cottonball bumcakes.
"Yes. All naked. All flesh." Alexandra caressed the two juddering prongs with outstretched arms and fingernails extended like claws. "And metal. And leather. Let us all come together. I want to fuck you in your faces."
*****
Christopher sipped unaged sugarcane liquor, straight and unchilled, on the deck of the canvas-covered verandah of the camp commissary on a bluff overlooking the archeological site's ballcourt and pyramid plaza.
He stood up straight from his chair-face frozen, eyes cold, as he took his binoculars away from his face.
Christopher could feel the sear of Alexandra's fuckfest all the way across the waterfall and mudpits, where he lounged bleary-eyed after returning from his plane ride and the trip he took inside the hide of the snide lady pilot Consuela.
He shot two fingers to his bull shit to loosen them a bit. Prick popped up.
Christopher shoved his peepers again into the eyepieces of his binoculars and refocused.
He saw the crisp smutch-coated contours of Alexandra's delicate face embracing the thick dark curvature of dong. As another pinguid prong ran in and out of her come-and-dirt-crusted ass.
Christopher took another drink fast.
Flashed his eyes brashly. It wasn't so bad after all, he thought. At least Alexandra had taken a fall. It might be a good time at the old camp tonight-if now they could join in free-for-all style.
He would like to see Alexandra give head to a hotbed of young jungle nymphets. And then, of course, Christopher would wander up and fuck them. Ball all of them. After they went down on him.
He held the situation tightly in his gaze through the lenses of the binoculars. His ears caught the sound of a whirlybird traveling above the ground and he shifted the binocs up.
A helicopter flopped down through the trees, lighting upon the landing pad just as the breeze picked up and the first squall of rain rushed through his hair in a mist.
*****
"We made it," Guadalupe said as she slid into Marlborough's arms from the side hatch of the chopper. "Just before the storm hits-it looks like."
"Naw-it's tapering off already. Just a drizzle. The hurricane pissed itself out in the gulf last nightaccording to the weather reports."
"But we can still expect a lot of blowing and thunder and lightning-can't we? Later tonight."
"You might be right, Guadalupe. This little bit of rain and wind could be just the preamble. You and I could spend a real cozy night here together-if you like it wet."
They ambled arm in arm toward the complex of huts and tents and low shacks.
Marlborough chuckled: "Gato and Macho Camacho are supposed to be here now. One of those planes over there might be theirs."
"You really think Cartier-Bischoff passed the word to them to unstash the cache of forged artifacts they stole from his collection and pack it up for us to take back Stateside?"
"We'll find out."
"And that little fuckstress twist?"
"Dirty Juanita. Seeing her again should really be a treat. The helicopter pilot told me the jungle chiquitas around here are into some kind of sex cult. They're supposed to have ceremonies where they dress up as fuck-goddesses."
"You think she'd find that appealing?"
"They fuck and suck each other in the mud and give each other filthy nicknames."
"Bullshit," Guadalupe gagged. "You're just trying to turn me on."
"Listen-I want to check out the scene around here now and see if I can turn up Gato and Macho Camacho. If you could be so kind as to see about our accommodations-Guadalupe?"
"One hut or two?"
"As it suits you."
"I'll see if there are any suites available. Is there a manager to this resort?"
"I see there's some dude sitting at a table on the verandah over there. Looks official with a drink in one hand and a smoke in the other."
*****
"We should have some fun tonight," Guadalupe gloated as her eyes floated up the jungle-encrusted side of the hill. "Shit. I see Marlborough now. He's sticking his cock up her ass. What did you say her name was?"
"Alexandra," Christopher yakked. "That makes three. One cock down her throat. Another goading her cunt. The third in her butt."
"He's fucking her like a mutt."
Guadalupe licked her lips rudely as she moved the binoculars about, observing the orgy in progress as Christopher moved close up behind her and leaned with his crotch into her ass.
He reached around her front, brushing her bazooms with his elbows as he held the binoculars for her while she drank and smoked.
Watched the three men poke Alexandra.
"So," Guadalupe chewed, "if El Pluton is a place and not a person, I have one thing to ask: Where the fuck is El Pluton?"
"You're looking at it. El Pluton is what the Spanish conquistadors called this site because of the riches of the earth found around here-named it after the Greek god of the underworld where all the precious metals and stones are found."
"Oh-such as?"
"A little bit of jade and onyx are mined in a few places around here. Some opals, too. But most important economically is the clay in the earth here. It's used in the manufacture of fine ceramics all the way up and down the coast. Has been for centuries."
"Yeah. I heard." Guadalupe leaned hack into Christopher. Randied her rear end against him. "They execute really beautiful fake versions of ancient art. Have them smuggled abroad to give them credibility and then fence them off through art dealers for big bucks." Guadalupe coughed out:
"The El Pluton collective makes out well for a bunch of prowling noble savages. They've all got vid-eodecks and stereo systems in their huts and Marlborough says there's a satellite dish set to be delivered next week."
"I figured something like that was going on here," Christopher yawned. He brought his palm down upon Guadalupe's shoulder. Massaged her muscles as her head pressed onto his hand. "So that's what those two-Gato and Macho Camacho-are into?"
"An associate of theirs is hiding out here too. Brings tears to my eyes when I think of herMarlborough and I can get her back into the States okay as soon as this affair is settled."
"Oh. Which one is she?"
"American girl-of Spanish descent. Name of Juanita. You met her yet?"
"Yes. She runs a marvelous kitchen. I find her a delightful conversationalist. Refreshing. Gives the impression of being so pure and innocent. Never would have thought of her as a criminal."
"You're kidding."
"A bit."
"I'd like to see her again-" Guadalupe caught herself. "For old times' sake."
"I would too. Wait until later tonight. Right after dark the jungle gives off sparks. You know, you do get a fever out here."
"A taste for wild flesh." Guadalupe smiled, lowering the binoculars from where she had observed Alexandra rutting with her boots on as three standing peckers shot off onto her tits and face in rapid succession, dappling her pale complexion with liquid pearlescence of jizzom.
"Bet Alexandra thinks that feels good."
"She should."
"How's this?"
"Better."
Christopher flopped his head forward. Guadalupe lolled hers back. Lips met. Smacked. They kissed again.
Christopher ran his fingers up Guadalupe's flat belly and ridge of ribs. "Mmmmm." He gripped her tits. Minced her mouthlips in his teeth. "Please."
Guadalupe let her arms go limp at her sides as Christopher unbuttoned her khaki blouse. He played with the nipples on her tits and kissed along her neck and cheeks as she unsnapped her pants.
Tingling twatmeat danced out into his fingers. Guadalupe shoved her bared buttocks into his hard-tipped pecker as they buckled to the ground.
Christopher's cocktip flipped into Guadalupe's peaclipit from underneath and slightly to the rear.
He slinked a finger into her ass-hole as he skewered her cunt lips in and out with corkscrew action of his extended prick.
Guadalupe tugged at her own tits and flailed her clit with maniacal glee as her insides exploded.
*****
Alexandra staggered in postorgasmic daze from one end of the old ceremonial arena as the haze of evening cloaked the jungle skies.
Thunder rumbled far off. A few hits of raindrops slipped down her neck. The storm hadn't arrived yet. Maybe it would blow by El Pluton-miss it altogether. She hunched herself in her blouse for warmth. It was a creepy feeling, being out here alone-even though that had been her choice.
She had fucked with Gato and Macho Camacho, sucked and rutted with the Bbys all morning. Then in the early afternoon the other guy had shown up-real tough, he was.
Marlborough had joined them in the fuckfray. Alexandra took twanger in her mouth. Prong stuck up her butt. Peckerbeak crowing in her nectar.
Their bodies bouncing along the ballcourt.
The men had just gone back to the camp to see about getting down some alcohol, but Alexandra had begged off. She wanted to go exploring by herself.
Gibbering of monkeys floated from the treetops. Colorful parrots and macaws cacked insinuatingly through their beaks.
The clayey ground squeaked between Alexandra's bare toes as she descended slowly from the plaza of the ballcourt and pyramids toward the girlish tittering she heard.
There was a sense of nearness. A tingling to her flesh. And Alexandra was sure of the other one's presence in the instant before the voice behind her spoke.
"I see you have come, my smutty fucked gringa."
"Oh, hi, Florencita." Alexandra drew her ears back. Pulled her mouthlips sideways. Stuck the tip of her tongue out. Flared her snout. "Pretty outfit you've got on."
"It's for the party I was telling you about. You are coming tonight? I am happy you chose to."
"Your robes-I love the featherwork bodice."
"You can't touch it, Alexandra. You aren't one of us yet." Florencita twisted away from Alexandra. Chittered: "Get your fucking gringa chxngada fingers off of my tits."
"Sorry, Florencita. I just couldn't resist."
"I hope you don't have to be punished."
"Where is this-uh-fiesta to be held?"
"It is dark now, but you can see something if you try to look real hard through the bushes. Over on the rockbed overlooking the waterfall. You can barely make it out from here."
"Where--. "
"By the mudpits."
Florencita bashed into Alexandra's backside. Began to strip away clothing from her hide as they tumbled down the embankment into the darkness.
"Fucking bitch!" Alexandra hissed.
She ripped at Florencita's hair as Florencita rent more and more of Alexandra's clothing to shreds. Baring her shoulders.
"No--! "
Florencita whipped Alexandra's underpants down over her ass. Frigged into her cunny with her face. Gibbering jaw ranted in her cabbage patch.
"Ulch!"
The two tussling women tumbled into the shallow arena of mud that formed on the edge of the claypits. Alexandra gaped her maw to scream and the insides of her mud-filled maw were filled with nipple and burgeoning titflesh.
"I see you could make it after all," Juanita smiled, sitting with her legs under her asscleft on a rock. "Florencita told me that you had begged off, Alexandra. Afraid you might get dirty-huh?"
"I don't know what you think you're going to do-you two." Alexandra groveled in the wet clay for remnants of her frayed garments. "Your friend Florencita here tried to strip me. Bitchkiss me."
"Tut tut," Juanita clucked. "She was supposed to make sure you were pure-for me to despoil."
"Alexandra tried to feel me up," Florencita yiped. "I had to punish her."
"So?" Juanita screwed her mouthlips and trailed her tongue out over small sharp teeth. "Now we must both purify her."
Florencita burst out giggling: "First we must prepare ourselves. You see-stinky Alexandra got my feathers all muddy."
"Aaaaaw," Alexandra belched. "I'll give that one a few belts if you don't get me out of here."
"No one's holding you back, Alexandra," Juanita sneered. "Don't you want to stay and see what's under Florencita's feather brassiere?"
Alexandra shook her head. But didn't move. Juanita drew off Florencita's soiled feather cape and two tattooed titties with pyramidal nippletips flipped dramatically into view.
"See, Alexandra? So fine and succulent for the sucking. And down there. When I press her loinpiece down you can see her hairless pussy. Freshly shaven for this occasion."
"Bet you had fun doing that."
"Hawhaw haw, Alexandra," Juanita cackled. "You are jealous-no? Don't worry. We have something special for you."
"Sorry, dollbabies," Alexandra snotted. "I've got to get back and take a nap. You know-some of us have to work for a living. Too bad I can't stay for the festivities."
"You don't have to do anything if you don't want to," Florencita said as the poked a finger into one of Alexandra's boobs. "But I think you do."
Alexandra turned and walked past the edge of the mudpits without saying anything. She heard a series of wet and sucking sounds behind her and turned around. Alexandra peered through the velvet jungle night in a light preorgasmic swoon and witnessed Juanita and Florencita as the two of them reclined on a rock and ffictioned their bodies together, running their hands along each other's dank flanks, entwined serpentinely in slime, and commenced a slow round of bitchkissing, sistersucking, platypussing, and clit cuking.
Alexandra could barely contain herself as Floren-cita's braided and beaded hair ran into Juanita's cunt and ass, pushed in deep by her oiled paws. Florencita's shaved labia and tattooed tits glistened in the incipience of moonlight.
Juanita's boob-harness knife came to life. She played the point and edge along Florencita's breasts as she kissed them.
Alexandra dropped her fingers to her clit, held firmly in the powers of fascination. She clenched her eyes closed and teardrops raced down the furrows of her cringing face.
"I can't stand it!" Alexandra howled. "I can't watch this anymore. You must stop."
Thunder clapped and lightning flashed. A sparse tinkle of drizzle filtered through the tall jungle trees. Haze of moonlight and scattered stars lent fire to the eyes that Alexandra now faced.
"Shut your fucking filthy gringa mouth," Floren' cita snapped. "Juanita, watch out! Alexandra's going for you!"
Alexandra lashed out with her claws. Slapped Juanita across the jaw.
"Uuuuunh."
Alexandra strafed Juanita across the tits with loosely coiled fists. Striated the boobflesh with her extended talons on the backswing.
"So you want to play rough," Juanita snuffed. "I'll kick you in the cunt."
Alexandra buckled protectively with her arms crossed over her slit as Juanita feinted a foot toward her crotch. Instead, Juanita slammed both her fists into Alexandra's face and in the same fluid motion brought both her boobs up into Alexandra's head. Knocked Alexandra dead-on and spread-eagled to the moist ground.
"I lied, Alexandra," Juanita snarfed. "I lie a lot. Don't ever believe anyone when they tell you what they're gonna do to you. They lie. It's to throw you off."
"I'm afraid I haven't much appetite," Alexandra said languorously through slack jaws, tongue moving laxly. "Maybe I'll have just a bite or two."
Juanita and Florencita pressed Alexandra deeper into the muck with their hands and feet. Then sat on a rock together, took out smokes and lit them up.
"What have I ever done to you?" Alexandra mewed. "Either of you?"
"You don't like us," Florencita bawled.
"Is that all?" Alexandra sniggered.
"Isn't that enough?" Juanita chewed lewdly from between crudely skewed mouthlips.
"You're full of shit," Alexandra bitched. "Get me the fuck out of this mudpit."
"Hear that, Florencita?" Juanita spat. "That's some good idea she's got."
"I think we should leave her in."
"I mean about being full of shit, Florencita. Alexandra said we were. But it's the reverse. She is. And getting worse."
Juanita snapped out a large latex bladder from beneath her seat.
"We must do something about that fast," Florencita bleated.
She yanked out a long tube with a metal nib on End and fastened it to the neck on the narrow end of Juanita's rubber bladder.
"This can go down her throat and in her cunny too," Juanita gloated. "In addition to the more conventional uses."
"I want to stick it up her ass," Florencita said as she ran her tongue out. "Get her to shit herself in the mudpits. like the pig she is."
Alexandra opened her yap:
"Waaaaah!"
Took twatmeat fresh in the teeth.
Juanita spread her labia wide as Alexandra's mouth probed inside.
Florencita kicked Alexandra's mud-covered white gams apart. Knelt athwart her and slid the nib of the enema assemblage with a squeak right through the centerpiece of Alexandra's rectum.
Alexandra's ass-cheeks parted.
Her anus unpuckered shamelessly.
" Bo-ooo-ooooot!"
She farted.
"Unh. Unh. Unh."
Florencita ran the nib in and out of Alexandra's ass-hole as Juanita, her own labia inserted into Alexandra's face, squeezed the latex enema bag that she cradled to her boobcage.
In a set of savage contortions, Alexandra whipped her hinders about in the muck. Bucked Florencita from her buttocks. Chucked Juanita's cunt from her face.
"Let me out of this place," Alexandra raged. "I'll fuck you. Sure I will. And suck you. Fuck and suck you to oblivion."
"You're on, bitch," Guadalupe said, wading into the mudpits. "How about it, sisters? Can I join in?"
*****
Marlborough took a drag on a long thin cigarette. Cocked his ears and listened to the chatter and clatter from the lips of the lithe female pilot who came up to the card table in the camp commissary just after dinner and sat directly in Christopher's lap. Sucking up half his face in her oral embrace.
"Marlborough. What's she saying?"
Consuela licked Christopher's ears as she whispered in slick sticky hisses: "Su amiga-ahora ella gana su vida haciendole la puneta a perras en el lodazal. Ella esta chupando chochas tambien. Y esta poniendo su nariz en culitos rosados."
"Aw, Chris. Consuela's just telling you that your girlfriend-guess she means Alexandra. Well, Alexandra is at this moment earning her life by jerking off bitches in the mudpits. She is also sucking pussy. And pressing her nose into rosy rectums-quaint expression, that-rosy rectumsor ass-holes, depends on the translation. Hey, Chris-what's up?"
"Omigaaaaawd," Christopher jawed slowly. "We better get to Alexandra fast, Marlborough. Sounds as if she needs our help."
"Rescue her?"
"Hell, no. Help her out on those dirty dames she's scrounging around with."
"I'd say I want the one with the tattooed titties," Marlborough yakked. "But I think Consuela's got first shot at that mudpie."
"Oh," said Christopher. "I'm going to boff them all in their blowholes."
*****
Alexandra snarled through monkey-like maw as Guadalupe unslung the cord from around her buns and whipped it about Alexandra's neck. Guadalupe pressed her pelvis hard into Alexandra's back, garroting Alexandra's throat tersely as she rubbed her pussy against Alexandra's muddy white flesh and sent spumes of pizzle through her flews.
Guadalupe's pungent piss juiced over Alexandra's hair and streamed over her eyelids, dripped down her asscrack and the edges of her rosehole, slid between her tits, pipped into her navel, and drizzled between the twatlips.
"Press her into me, Guadalupe," Juanita said with eyes shining. "And, Florencita. You get Alexandra's ass."
Guadalupe pushed Alexandra's snout into Juanita's drooling orchid of a thatch.
Alexandra snapped at snatch.
Gnashed Juanita's slimeslit completely with mouthlips, teeth, gums, and tongue. Choking the viscous cuntcome down in voluminous quaffs.
Florencita stepped up into Alexandra's ass and' gave it a kick. Stuck her big toe up Alexandra's ass.
"Uuunh."
Then Florencita jerked the enema nib into Alexandra's hinders. Squeezed the bladder within her hands. Alexandra's lower limbs danced frog-like.
"Yipe!"
Alexandra's belly blew up as Florencita hooked on another latex bag full of enemajuice. Pumped it up Alexandra's anus.
"Oooooh," Alexandra barfed. "What's in that stuff?"
"We've enemaed you," Juanita puked out, "with a mixture of unaged sugarcane alcohol and juice from jungle mushrooms. You know the kind I mean."
Juanita swung one tight fist in a coiled arc.
Alexandra barked: "Aiii-yi-yiii!" And blew out flying sluices of enemajuices as Juanita pummeled her belly relentlessly.
Alexandra sawed into titnibs, ass-holes, and pusskins with ravening maw. She upchucked suds of cuntcome from her overfed tum-tum as she sucked.
Licked it back up.
"Yum."
Alexandra in a cuntlust swooned into Guadalupe, who now garroted Alexandra-tits, face, and snatch down in the mud. Guadalupe stroked her bloated clitoris at Alexandra's anal cranny and into her cunt lips, hammering her hips spasmically.
Eyes came to life like fireflies in the glade surrounding the waterfalls above the mudpits. Thunder growled like a gargantuan jaguar and lightning bolts ignited the sides of the pyramids and ballcourt as the rain sliced downward.
Gato and Macho Camacho came upon the stripped women in the mudpits, whipped off their clothes, and swung on down. They each took turns of pecker burning into Alexandra's guts as she sucked Guadalupe's silken web of tarantula twat.
Marlborough and Christopher, with the naked Consuela in tow, snaked down the sides of the embankment and dove in.
Gato and Macho Camacho chugged loads from their toad-like choads onto the cringing contours of Alexandra's face as Dirty Juanita moved her clay-caked come-covered fanny into place, using Alexandra's warped form as her regal throne.
Finis.
It has not been confirmed but it is suspected that she who is known as Dirty Juanita currently manages the El Pluton collective in an international racketeering operation that includes coordinated forgery and smuggling of ancient artifacts.
Guadalupe Bonita, though restaurants in Mexico City, Los Angeles, and Reno, in concert with Cartier-Bischoff Studios and El Pluton, runs a syndicate of sex consultants for jaded women. Operatives include Marlborough Pegg, Christopher Mattock, Gato Varon, and Macho Camacho.
When last seen and identified as such, Doctor Alexandra Wade was naked on a leash in the middle of a landing field in the rainforest of Veracruz.
Florencita Nikte-Ha was moving her jaw upon a pawpaw fruit. And Consuela was flying high.
