"TWENTY-FIRST BLACK CHILD MISSING IN ATLANTA____" read the headlines of the morning newspaper folded in quarters in Carrie's skirted lap. The public school teacher glanced down at the muddy newspaper photo of a young black boy, Rufus King, age 9, missing from a shopping mall parking lot. His watery, dark eyes implored up into her blue ones.
Senseless murders, racial tension... children arming themselves with baseball bats and karate lessons. What sadness compared to bucolic northern Minnesota where the most violent crime involved a useless, starving horse or a dog's case of rabies!
Perhaps, the thought struck home, moving to Atlanta to teach school and marry Phil showed poor forethought. Perhaps she was biting off too big a chunk of something. If only she knew what that elusive something was!
Whisperings of pain sparked a fidgety anxiety as the Delta jet cut back its engines in preparation for landing. Nervously, she fumbled in the bottom of her leather handbag for the smooth cardboard of the Dunhill Cigarette box. Above, the red light pinged, just as she slipped the filter between her glossy lips.
"Excuse me, M'am... " a voice crept up behind her. "We're about to land, you'll have to extinguish your cigarette." The blonde haired stewardess drawled in a honey voice and fixed a plastic smile on Carrie's un-amused face.
"But I haven't... "
"And fasten your seat-belt, we're circling... "
Cooperatively, she slipped the cigarette back into its box and found distraction in the greenery below. Virulent, rich, sweltering in humidity �_" Atlanta, Georgia, her new home!
The elation of change choked in her throat. Something felt amiss, wrong, poorly planned.
The splash of green came closer, whizzing past the windows as the wheels touched down on Atlanta's airport runway, jolting her backwards in her seat. Like the loss of virginity, she thought with a shiver of dread. Coming to live in the racially tense south was like shedding adolescence and becoming a woman.
Carrie twirled the diamond chip set in gold on her left hand. Her puffy nipples hardened fearfully at the dreaded implications of what that simple band meant. To this date, a few sessions of making out with Phil was the sum total of their romance �_" in the physical sense. Sex was still a fantasy to Carrie, and the hardcore reality of succumbing physically to a man refused to cement in her brain. To succumb to a man's prurient wishes was not far different from being raped �_" or beaten. Carrie's mother could attest to that, having endured twenty years of marriage to a drunken brute who thought nothing of blackening his wife's eye or bruising a rib, while his children shivered and cried in bed.
Carrie's blue eyes stared absentmindedly at the grey strip ribbon, her ears ringing from the sharp roar of engines. Time seemed suspended in space and that space filled with the sharp Germanic features of her mother. Helen Osgood, a proud, well-educated woman from Munich, Germany, married to an ironworker �_" a hard drinking, hard working man.
Leaves on the family tree rustled with rumors of rape. Oscar had forced Helen into submission, so went the story, and out of pride, Helen had married him.
Never had Carrie's mother accepted the humiliation of marrying a man far less educated and sophisticated than her polished European veneer. She loved her daughter Carrie, but hated her husband, and staunchly built cases against men. Dirty brutes, drunken womanizers...
It was with this distaste for men that Carrie matured. Sex was never mentioned. How well Carrie remembered her first menstruation. Terrified, fearing she was bleeding to death, she sheepishly approached the school nurse, only to learn she was becoming sexually mature. Her lack of knowledge about men fed fears and fantasies. She loved her father, but was terrified of his strength. Nights when he would come home smelling of irony earth, his breath reeking of alcohol, he would peel back her covers over her shivering body, his face close to hers. His drunkeness made him unpredictable and mean, but something she couldn't identify, couldn't name, stoked a far deeper, more subconscious fear. It was fear of a reality, not of a circumstance.
Now circumstances were leading to that reality, trapping her in its grip.
Phil... Phillip Edward Carmichael. Sandy brown hair, wide shoulders, handsome... and short on tolerance. Proud as Southern men are, he didn't want his fiancee working. After long, expensive telephone calls, he agreed that if she were to make the commitment of moving to the South, it was only reasonable that she have a trial run at adjustment. One year of teaching and depending on how she and Phil related to each other and she to the South, either she would move back to Minnesota or marry him. The verbal contract seemed a bit knotty to Carrie, but considering Phil's masculine ego, it was a gross compromise that she would be wise to accept.
The plane rolled toward the airport and Carrie could feel the steaming humidity as the vents were turned off. Northern Minnesota with its wheat fields and bucolic corny calendar vistas was another galaxy compared to the South with its frightening history of racial tension! Blacks hating whites, whites hating blacks, Cubans and Mexicans fighting the blacks �_" now the killing of innocent children.
She sucked in her breath, her heavy bosom rising and falling under soft snugness of her cotton dress. Bending her head, she put a trembling hand to it and clamped pearly teeth over the glossy succulence of her quivering lower lip. Why was she so uptight? Age twenty-one was ripe for moving away from home; indeed, she had lived in dormitories in college. So why the butterflies?
A habit born of nervousness, she hummed snatches of Madame Butterfly and envisioned operatic stage sets, a passion passed down from her mother who ensconced herself in cultural distractions to wipe clean reality and unhappiness of marriage. Tucking a wisp of soft blonde hair, straight and worn shoulder-length, behind one shell-like ear, she squirmed in the narrow cushioned seat. Three hours in the air had cramped her calf muscles and she stretched her long, stockinged legs.
"Your first trip to Atlanta?"
"Huh... oh," she blushed at the man sitting across the aisle, dressed in a leisure suit.
"Yes... "
Her head snapped back to the window as she caught his eyes roaming over the lush swells of her body. Like Daddy... touching me, hugging me with his breath foul and hands dirty...
Why couldn't a woman dress like a woman without being humiliated by frustrated men who gawked and stared? In cold Minnesota, men of Scandinavian and German backgrounds were discreet in their indiscretions. She prayed to God, wiping her satiny forehead clean of perspiration, that men weren't as hot in Georgia as the weather!
This discomfiting nonsense of fearing men's hungry gazes had started with her first brassiere. Negligent in all matters regarding sex, her mother had waited until her daughter was fully developed before fitting her with her first brassiere, a matter of deep emotional distress to the curvy young blonde. Men always gawked at her. Because of her golden hair shimmering about an apple cheeked face �_" or was it the pale blue eyes under fluttering eyelashes? Men made her blush�_" easily. Feeling the businessman's eyes on her, she swung around and caught his tight smirk as he gawked at her breasts. A wormish feeling of disgust rippled through her. Even Phil, the man she should trust, raked over her bumps and curves with a salacious hunger, that turned her cold. Why couldn't men be her friends? Why did they always treat her like an object?
Turning her thoughts inward, she bubbled with a forced anticipation of living alone. Being able to lock her door and say no to late night knocks seemed a good protection against the heated arguments she and Phil were slowly and painfully (on her part) growing accustomed it. Fights were commonplace in her family, and she accepted them as part of the marital package. Phil had suggested they live together as a test before marriage, arguing that Atlanta wasn't the safest place for a woman to prove herself single.
Shimmering mirages of heat wrinkled perspective; hot flashes of white light reflected off the luggage cart and parked airplanes. Unlike Minnesota, everything here seemed congested and ready for explosion. A shyness, a lack of self-confidence tightened her throat. Her heart thumped in her chest, her breasts pressing anxiously against the bodice of her dress. Phil was here to help her, she reminded herself, hysterical at her silliness.
Phil... the image of his sandy hair and tanned cheeks made her squirm in her seat. A tingling deep within her womanhood moistened the nest of her womb. In a rustle of stockings, she crossed her legs and clenched shut her eyes. Behind her flickering lids, flashed white light.
She stiffened then at the crackly voice of an airline stewardess announcing their debarkation. All five feet and five inches of her creamy flesh jumped as she realized this was it.
"Give me another whiskey, bartender," slurred Phil Carmichael, then turning to the Chicagoan sitting next to him perusing the Atlanta Times where the wide dark eyes of Rufus King, latest victim, stared up at him.
"Ah, don't get emotional over that shit... " snickered Phil unsympathetically. "Atlanta's full of niggers... one less kid's ten less bastards on welfare!"
The man next to him stiffened, then turned his back to the offensive young man, bolting down whiskey.
"To hell with ya, then," snorted Phil, turning to two young men sitting across from him in the square-shaped bar off the Seven Sea Restaurant in Atlanta's airport. He snapped his fingers at the bartender. "Give these boys a drink in honor of my gal comin' in from Minnesota!"
Eyeing the rakish man disdainfully, the gray haired bartender tweaked his moustache cogitatingly and silently complied, pouring the two men drinks. Everyone in Atlanta was edgy from the murders, saddened that such ugliness had tainted the reputation of their city. All but one, that is, and it was his ill fate to have to serve him. Snatching the bills from the bar and slapping them in the cash register, he overheard the man's distasteful discussion of his girl friend who apparently was on the concourse waiting for him while he got drunk with strangers. The bartender shook his head, having seen this movie before.
"Yeah, got my little woman comin' in from up North. Christ, I can't wait to get my hands on her! Hookers don't make it with me no more," he boasted. "Nothing like a tight-assed blondie to get me hard and make ya happy!"
"Yeah? She got nice tits?" one of them asked.
"Christ, she's got a pair of knockers you ain' seen on black chicks! He yanked his tie loose and held upturned palms as if weighing his fiancee's breasts in each. Below, behind the gabardine trap of his suit pants, his cock lurched. "Hey, bar keep... give us another round!"
He slapped six bills on the bar ostentatiously.
"Don't you think you've had enough?" The bartender leaned his hands against the bar and glared Phil in the eye.
"Ah, shit____" Phil staggered to his feet and headed toward the Delta concourse.
Blonde shimmering hair dancing in the air conditioned breeze near the ticket desk could belong to only one woman. His woman. Shouldering his way brazenly through the crown, rousing cold stares, he charged towards her The unsteady gait and bloodshot eyes were childhood indications. Carrie's eyes slitted.
"You've been drinking... couldn't you wait until I got here?" she sniped.
"Hey, not drinking, celebrating!" he defended with a toothy, disarming grin. He slunk his heavy arm around her shoulder, crushing her to him suffocating her with alcohol breath and unwanted embraces... so much like Daddy! she pulled away.
"It's hot in here... please, Phil!"
"It's the South, honey... climate's hot and the men are hotter!" He dipped his head to kiss her on the neck, breath snorting from his nostrils. Sex and alcohol were two sore points with Carrie, and for that reason he loved to exaggerate their importance.
"You didn't have to get drunk!" she averred, tutting, starchly, she charged down the carpeted concourse, up the ramp, past the security station and heading for baggage claim beyond the restaurants and bars.
Phil was fast on her heels. "Stop, Carrie... so help me!" he hissed between clenched teeth as he charged after her swaying skirt covering the half moons of her firm buttocks. His eyes traveled from the slender ankles, up the firm calves and over the rich swell of her hips to the nipped in waist line. Christ, what a looker she was! Feisty and prudish, fun to tease and Christ, what he'd give to sink his cock into her right now!
"Hey, you two have a fight?" Taunted one of the men Phil had been buying drinks.
Phil turned red with rage. Closing in on her, he grabbed her by the elbows. "Don't you ever embarrass me like that again!" he sneered, squeezing her arm painfully. "I'm happy to see you, is that so crass?"
The sweltering heat and blowing air conditioning was eating at Carrie's humor. Her blue eyes lifted to his brown ones that sizzled with something she could not, dared not, define.
True, she had been rash. Letting out a deep sigh she apologized �_" lifelessly. "I'm sorry...
It was a long trip and its so hot here... and, and there was this man on the plane staring at me like I was naked or something!" She raked polished fingertips through long straight hair. Blue eyes turned upward to study his expression. "You know how I hate being stared at!"
He plucked her luggage from the carousel and led the way to the parking lot. The automatic doors hissed open and a gush of hot air so moist it felt like liquid against her face, punched her like a balled up fist. She drew a deep breath, fighting dizziness.
"It's so hot here .. I never would have believed... "
Phil threw the luggage in the car trunk. "Cut the complaining, will you... and appreciate being with me!"
She had been a nag from the moment she stepped off the plane, and knew how he despised nagging women. He couldn't tolerate anything short of perfection. Unfortunately, number two son failed to measure up to number one son. Phil, consequently, never finished college, having accepted a job as an electronics mechanic for an Atlanta based firm.
"Where's my apartment?" she asked, slipping into the hot plastic car seat. She felt sticky and grimy, but fought down ill-tempered urges.
Sliding into the seat, Phil started the motor and put the air conditioner on high. His fair lady would hit the ceiling when she laid her blue eyes on her new home! Oh, it was modern, like most low-cost tenement projects in Atlanta, but not far enough away from the steaming black ghettos. He snickered to himself conspiratorially as he revved the motor.
How long would it take before she begged him to move in with her for protection?
His bloodshot eyes swept to the luscious ripple of her bouncy breasts. Stemming temptation, he clenched his teeth to keep from grabbing those milky mounds.
"What part of town will I be living in?" she wanted to know, slipping a lithe arm along the car seat and tucking a stockinged leg beneath her firm buttocks. "I won't have a car for a while... I hope it's within walking distance of my school. George Washington High?"
Throwing back her blonde head, she giggled. "Wouldn't it be funny if that was your alma mater?' A lecherous grin creased his handsome face. "You're my alma mater, honey. I'd love to graduate with all your honors!"
An arm swept about her shoulders and happy for the contact, Carrie nestled against his chest, relieved the tension had smoothed. Still, his drinking and treating her like a sex object was offensive, two elements of marriage she must get used to.
"Missed you, babe," he whispered hotly. This time she didn't fight him. Casting her a quizzical glance out of the corner of his eye, he let his hand drift down over her shoulder to the firmness of her full breasts. His leg slid across the cooled plastic seat and rubbed against the suppleness of her firm thigh. Usually sudden contact frightened her, but today, in Atlanta, she was loose and reckless �_" the way Phil Carmichael liked his women!
"Tell you what," he whispered, kissing her hair. "Why don't we take a spin to your school. If I'm not mistaken, it's about eight blocks from here." Then in a concerned tone: "Hope you don't get stuck with too many niggers in your class... Christ, those bastards have been raising hell down here. Nigger vigilantes, nigger karate teachers... pretty soon they'll be ruling the place!"
"PHIL CARMICHAEL!" she snapped, temper flaring. "How can you say something so-so-so utterly inhumane!" She pulled away from him. "Can't you understand they've been underprivileged and that Americans are responsible for their being in this country?" she tutted.
Phil stiffened behind the wheel. Carrie was a fragile thing, fragile as a magnolia blossom and just as sweet. Perhaps it was cruel to get her an apartment so close to the black projects, but if she was going to live in the south, he averred stoically, she was going to have to toughen up and shed some of her goodie goodie ideas about life. A month of living on Hayes Street and teaching in Washington and she would be elated to stay home, watch soap operas and cook stew for her husband.
"You're right... I'm an insensitive bastard," he sighed, capturing her shoulders again and pulling her to him. His finger traced the outline of her bee-stung nipple through the soft cotton. Predictably, she pulled away.
"Phil, you're so aggressive sometimes."
"The word is macho, and women like it," he defended.
Blue eyes rolled to the side, taking in the masculine square-jawed strength of his handsome features. Air conditioning blew under her dress, cooling her warm, stockinged inner thighs. She shivered from the caress. She pulled away impulsively; it felt too good.
Times when he closed in on her, like now, her mother's screams form the adjacent bedroom chilling the walls, echoed in her brain. She stiffened, and not from the air conditioning.
He felt her tension. "Relax, honey. Doesn't matter how frigid you are, you can't ice up in Atlanta!"
It was intended as a joke, but sourly. Carrie's button chin began to tremble. Why did he have to say something like that? As much as calling her half a woman? Trains of thought chugged through her psyche �_" and not for the first time on this subject. If she were frigid, afraid of sex, then why did men insist on staring at her? It didn't make sense. Tutting in annoyance, covering hurt, she reached for the radio dial and turned it on. A news report crackled over the radio.
"Atlanta police today discovered the grisley remains of a nine year-old boy... no report on the cause of death____" Quickly she turned the dial. Enough of murder and racial tension and fear! Resolving to lighten her mood, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, tasting his sweet after shave lotion with her glossy lips. She must forgive him his brassiness, because it was that strength, almost cruelly judgmental, that she loved about him. Funny, in a perverse way, her father, despite his drinking and lack of tolerance, possessed that same strength.
Abruptly her attention was drawn to the car window, noticing that the tree-lined avenues were slowly relenting to the pressure of buildings, apartments, apparently, identical in design. Identical, except for the graffiti scrawled over the stucco walls. Her blue eyes widened, pulse quickening, as she gawked at children playing in the streets while their mothers sat on the grass, fanning themselves. The streets were littered with trash, abandoned furniture and kitchen appliances rusting on sidewalks. Broken windows and boarded up windows. This was the ghetto.
"Welcome to Atlanta," snorted Phil disapprovingly. "These are the kids you've come to save."
Carrie was wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Children, noticing the white couple in the new Toyota, scattered from the sidewalks. Some darted for baseball bats hid- den under shrubs. Angry, twisted expressions lined their young faces with bitterness; their eyes sparked threateningly.
"Let's get out of here!" Carrie grabbed his arm.
""You said you wanted to see George Washington High____!" He cast her a challenging look.
"But this is____"
"Yup... its where all those kids have been disappearing! Not a nice sight, is it?"
Carrie's blue eyes squinted. "And the school I'll be teaching in... "
"Is near here."
Carrie sucked in her breath, rubbing her temples with pinching fingers. Her heart pounded in her chest. Why hadn't Phil told her? Why hadn't he helped her find another job in a safer part of town?
"You don't have to work, you know. We could get married and find a bigger place across town." The suggestion came softly, but refused to soften Carrie's mood. "Oh, no! I came here to teach school and that's what I'm going to do!" Every goosebumped inch of her creamy flesh was charged with anger as Phil pulled up to a curb and put the car in neutral. "I would love nothing better than to have you with me all the time honey. I don't want you endangering your life teaching a bunch of black ghettos thugs." Frustrated, reading the suspicion of deceit in her eye, he shook her by the shoulders. "Can't you see I love you?"
Her eyes descended to her lap. "Let's go see the school."
To her amazement, the school was relatively new. Splattered graffiti marred the walls and a playground resembled more the prison exercise yard than a high school football field.
Wire fences encircled the property and the building wore the air of something ominous and cruelly mature compared to the youth educated there. Civics... what do I know about civics... about government and poverty and racial tension? she thought defeatedly to herself. Her social consciousness centered around German Christmas with a jolly St. Nick and listening to Puccini on Saturday afternoon FM radio stations crackling over the air from Minneapolis.
"Listen, honey, they've got a million day-care centers around town... how about... " He eased into the subject for the last time.
"No! I'm going to teach high school and that's it!" she spat out the words in measured rhythm, letting each one sink into his brain for the final time. Repetition always bored her.
The trapped, claustrophobic feeling engulfed her again, and she felt herself sinking into a world of fantasy to dispel despair. Everything, she assured herself, trying to quell her heartbeat, would be okay. Yet she felt like a newly landed alien from a foreign planet, looking at American society at a first glance. It wasn't a pretty sight. She shivered, shoulders quivering. Times when this feeling crept up on her, she needed Phil more than ever.
"Seen enough, honey? Want to go back to your place?"
She nodded, staring down into her lap's wringing hands. A U-turn and the yellow Toyota was headed back through the ghetto' project. At a stop sign and cross walk where a buxom black lady in fuzzy bedrooms slippers waddled across the street, both arms laden with grocery bags, Carrie sucked in her breath. From nowhere a street gang jumped out from behind the scraggly shrubs, armed with baseball bats wielded over their shoulders.
The incongruity of youth versus cruel maturity masked their faces. Large, chocolate eyes snappy with hatred. Muscles developed from a fight for the fittest.
They surrounded Phil's new Toyota and started to rock it. One young black boy jumped on the hood of the car and glared, down at Carrie's creamy fleshed body. Through the windshield her ears stung with his racist accusations.
"White honky bitch!" The boy spat, his black face greasy with lusty vengeance. "Big titted bitch! Get the fuck outta our neighborhood!" His voice was garbled, his tongue thick.
Pooching out his thick black lips, he spit a wad of drool onto the windshield.
Inside, Carrie shuddered with fear, her body rocking from right to left with the movement of the car. Fear tightened in her throat. "Get us out of her, Phil! They hate us! They'll kill us!"
Balancing herself, she threw out her arms on either side of the car seat, her breasts bouncing from the rocking of the car axis. She blinked, blue eyes glassy with fear.
The hood jolted as a second boy jumped onto the hood, baseball bat clutched hatefully in his fists. Up on his knees, he pulled it back over his shoulder, ready to crash in the windshield!
"Yeah... Miss Tits," her second tormentor grunted. "We wanna see dem white tits or dat windshield's gonna crack into dat pretty face!"
"Oh, my God, Phil... get us out of here!"
Phil stared at the baseball bat and back into the snappy, hate-filled pupils. "He's not kidding... open your dress!"
"PHIL! You can't mean that! Get us out of here!"
Between clenched teeth Phil repeated his demand. "This is a new car... I haven't the fuck paid for it, and if you don't want your face in bloody ribbons �_" SHOW HIM YOUR FUCKIN' TITS!"
A cold shiver of dread sent a ripple of dizziness to toy with her senses. Her mouth felt as if she were chewing on a wad of cotton. Blue eyes sparred with black ones �_" two sets of them �_" leering down at her, knowing they had her cornered. Carrie's eyes lowered from the sweat glistening foreheads crowned with kinks of Afro hairdos long uncombed and unwashed, down the oily cheeks in their strong muscled chests covered flimsily in fish net tops dirtied with sweat. Their strong, domineering bodies, tight young thighs... Oh, God!
She clenched shut her eyes while trembling fingertips worked one by one at the pearl buttons of her cotton dress.
Tears, wetted her eyes, her ears buzzing from their lewd tauntings, making her an object of their hate.
Slowly, she pulled open the jacket of her dress, showing off the white lace of her brassiere. That wasn't enough for their hate-filled hunger.
"We wanna see dem tits!"
Choking down disgust, a wad of fear-born nausea clogging her throat, Carrie pulled it open wider.
"Take off your dress... or we're both dead!" hissed Phil.
"I can't... " she whimpered, her face taut with fear.
Through one fear-dilated pupil she watched the first tormentor, up on his haunches, baseball bat balanced on the car hood, yank at the tab of his zipper and peel down his pants. His young black penis sprung into view, spearing toward her, jumping from a black kinky mass of pubic curls!
Carrie thought she might faint as numbly, she watched his black fist descend to his groin and pump the black snake. A pearl of pre-cum oozed from the tip. She gagged, cheeks burning with disgust, revulsion and rage. Compliantly, she slipped one arm, then the other from her dress bodice and peeled it down to her waist.
"Take off that bra!" Phil was as angry with her reluctance as with the street gang's damage to his new car.
The feel of her own hands on her clammy flesh sent a shiver to worm up her spine. Her back goosebumped as her normally nimble fingers, now uncooperative as hunks of stone, unhooked clumsily the hooks of her brassiere and pulled let it flutter from her naked breasts. Shamed, humiliated, she lowered her head and wept.
Through the glass the boys on the car hood whooped and screamed to their friends to come take a look. Black faces mashed to the glass windows taking in the milky loveliness of Carrie's breasts. Their black eyes bored into her flesh like tiny lice. Her nipples hardened into diamond chips and the fleshy orbs swelled, throbbed in shame.
Beside her she heard Phil suck in his breath. Damn him! How could he sit there gawking while she was exposed naked to these tormentors? How could he?
Lifting her head she let out a screech and covered her burning face with her hands. On the car hood, a black boy pumped at his penis, threw back his head and whooped toward the skies as a white jet of male cum spewed geyser and dribbled in thick, creamy rivers down the windshield.
"Ta's for you, white bitch!" rasped the boy. "BASTARDS, FUCKING BLACK BASTARDS!"
yelped Phil, stomping on the accelerator. The yellow Toyota's tires screeched down the block, zigzagging to avoid the hammering baseball bats cracking the brake lights and denting the new chrome bumper. "Dirty fucking bastards...!"
Beside him, Carrie cried into her hands, sobbing in shame and feelings she could not define. She hugged her brassiere to her breasts and bracing her elbow on the car window, let all emotion flow.
She jumped as he cupped her shoulders. "You can put your dress on now honey. Let's forget this happened, okay? Let's just forget it and enjoy each other."
Forget? How could she possible forget such ugliness? If only she could understand the reasons behind it. She must be strong, she thought, raising her head, tears burning down her flushed cheeks. Or she could never teach in this tension-filled city. It could have happened to anyone, she assured herself. No, she hadn't been singled out as a victim. It was a circumstance, that was all. Not her personal reality, because she had done nothing to provoke the incident.
"Honey," he whispered hotly. "Please don't teach here... let's live together... please."
Her blonde hair shook in a firm negative. No... she had come here to learn to be independent. "No... I want to teach."
CHAPTER TWO
From outward appearances, the stucco walled apartment building Carrie was to call home, resembled suspiciously the low-income projects where the disgusting street scene had occurred. Feeling guilty, dirty and shamed, she blew her nose and waited for Phil to remove the luggage from the trunk. As she buttoned up her dress to the neck, she heard him grumble as he inspected the damage to his new car.
Damage to his car... how meager in comparison to her womanly pride! His priorities, it seemed, were grossly unbalanced. As these thoughts tumbled through her brain, she surveyed her new neighborhood. A sandbox under a small tree was filled with two children �_" both white, she thought with guilt and relief. Tricycles were scattered, turned over; Volkswagens and compact cars lined the streets.
The inside of the apartment compensated for any misgivings she might have harbored.
Modern kitchen, fan and hood, built-in oven, garbage disposal. Off the living room was a small balcony for sunning, catching the westerly setting sun. Drawing open the glass doors, she heard Phil's warning.
"Make sure you keep them locked. Most robbers get in through balconies."
"Just what I wanted to hear!" she sniped bitterly, spinning around on her heel and clamping her arms over her chest as if the young black boys' eyes were still peeled on her naked breasts. A shiver quivered up her spine and she felt her cheeks flush.
He cupped her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. "I'm going to get some champagne and a couple of steaks and salad. Sound good? Make yourself at home. Be back in a minute!"
Throwing open a suitcase, she probed for toiletries and a towel. Thank God the apartment had come well cleaned! Home, she thought, peeling out of her dress, her eyes scanning the semi-furnished apartment with its well-used semi-modern, style-less furnishings.
Sterile and impersonable...
In the shower, she soaped her creamy skin with soapy lather and ran the palms of her hands over her slick body. Carefully, as if the boys' eyes were still upon her, eating up her flesh with lusty stares, she massaged the soap bar between her slender thighs, running her fingers into the cleft of her buttocks and polishing the virginal area of her vagina. Up over the soap slickened mounds of her firm breasts she rubbed, weighing them, massaging them in the palms of her hands. Heavy and firm they were. A pain of humiliation stabbed through her then, recalling the young vigilantes' gawking black eyes fixed on her naked breasts, swelling before him nipples hardening.
The boy's hard muscled, black body, shimmering like a race horse... She sucked in her breath to quell the pain. His black cock... hard and virile jutting out from his masculine loins, black fist pumping its veiny girth. Visions of the open slit dripping with pre-cum fled to mind. All because of her breasts!
Why her breasts? Experimentally, she ran a fingertip around the puffy nipple and watched, awed, as it changed from pink to puckering red. The titillation of her touch made the other nipple harden into a bud. Carrie scrubbed faster now, clenching shut her eyes, thrusting out her throat to feel the punishing pinpricks of shower spray.
She fought the urge, but the urge was boiling within her. She slipped one creamy-soaped hand down between her slender thighs, down to the soft fleece of her pubic curls and massaged the swollen mound while behind her flickering eyelids that young black boy's cock squirt its creamy load a lick away on the windshield. Her eyelashes fluttered, her hand loitering between her thighs, fingers pressing down on the swollen, ragged lips of her pussy.
Ahhhhh! Her eyelids flew open as if on springs. Pleasure succumbed to guilt. As her hand lingered massagingly between her thighs, sparks of hot desire shot though her. God help her, but she had experienced that same pleasure when the black boy demanded to see her breasts. Hadn't she secretly delighted in showing off her body?
Her middle finger refused to move, stubborn as the vision rolling in three dimensional color behind her fluttering eyelids. Leaning against the ceramic shower wall, feet apart, knees bent compliantly, her middle finger drubbed at the swollen bud of her clitoris, sending sparks of lightning lust to ripple up through her belly to the hardened nubs of her milky breasts. Carrie sucked in her breath as shower spray matted her blonde hair to shoulders and head. Private moments like this, in the shower, the dams of desire could let loose and flood to satiation. Her only means of release, she savoured it for precious moments such as now. Mmmmmmm...
Then her eyes flew open as if on springs. The slam of the front door, the crinkle of grocery bags. A quick squirt of shampoo into her shaking palm and Carrie finished her shower.
Guilt-ridden and frustrated, she wrapped the giant jacquard towel around her naked, dripping body and stepped into the air-conditioned coolness of her bedroom. Through the window the afternoon sun splashed fiery orange; mothers were calling their children in from play, weary husbands parking their cars, slamming doors. She stood rummaging through her open suitcase when Phil came through the door with a glass of wine in each hand.
"You look great wet!" he smirked, handing her a plastic wine glass sloshed with wine.
Obviously he had indecent plans. His hungry eyes streaked up and down the sixty-five inches of lusciously dripping flesh, scantily covered with a towel.
With downcast eyes, terrified he knew of her masturbatory romp in the shower... after refusing to let him touch her, she blushed. Her last defense was anger.
"I'll be dressed in a second," she retorted sheepishly.
"Why get dressed?"
The clink of plastic on the dresser caught her attention. He grabbed her elbow and lifted the wine glass in her hand. He nibbled at her ear and rasped hotly: "Let's get that suitcase off the bed." Pressing his body tight to hers, he nudged her backwards until the backs of her knees touched the mattress and he plunked her down on it. They fell in a fleshy heap, his nose pressed into her creamy cleavage. His tongue snaked over the luscious, shower-cooled mounds, down to the hardened nubs of her nipples.
"Please, Phil... don't be such an animal!" she whined, levering her hands against his chest to push his weight free of her. She sucked in her breath. Her nipple were hard and he could read her excitement. Snarling, she fought him off, rolling from under him. Wet blonde hair clung to her forehead and cheeks. Her dimples deepened as she ranted, screaming more at her traitorous body than the man who commanded it.
Through clenched pearly teeth she screamed at him, cheeks flushed. "How can you act like this after what happened an hour ago?"
Ego pricked, he snickered up at her. "You mean your cute little strip tease for the local black boys?" He sat up on the bed, anger building, sparking in his dark eyes. "You loved it... you loved showing off your tits... don't you deny it!"
Horrified at his accusation, she spat down at the man she was to marry. "How can you say such a �_" horrible thing? They had baseball bats, they would have killed us!"
"Happens every day in Atlanta, honey... better toughen up," he said with a bored groan that infuriated her.
"Liar! You were as scared as I was! You told me to let them see my breasts!"
"You didn't have to enjoy it!" he snarled back, upper lip curling in hot male jealousy.
Eyes blazing, she squinted down at him. "Get out... get out before I call the police." Her voice was barely a whisper.
In a rage, she swung around, clinging to the dresser for support, her weakened body deserting her. The movement unloosened the towel shrouding her wet, naked body.
Grunting with dismay and anger, she grabbed for it, but Phil was quicker.
Staring at her naked buttocks, he snickered lewdly. "You got a nice ass, hon." One hungry paw clamped over her ass cheek, the free arm slipping around her waist. Laughing in victory, he pulled her down on the bed and with his foot, gave the suitcase a shove; it landed upside down on the carpet, contents recklessly strewn over the floor.
"Oh----" she groaned. "How dare you____" She writhed under his grip, but his superior masculine strength overwhelmed her. Now she lay on her back, naked and trembling.
Quickly he scrambled on top of her squirming body, pinning her to the mattress.
"I've been wanting you a long time... you're not going to tell me to get out!" he snarled, his eyes bloodshot with rage. With a grunt, he dipped his head and ground his lips cruelly against her rosebud lips, his snaking tongue sneaking through her pearly teeth to slip into the moist cavern of her mouth. He delighted in the fresh toothpaste taste of her mouth, compared to the alcohol-soured warmth of his own. Carrie moaned from deep in her throat, as he sucked at her tongue, vacuuming it back into his mouth.
Pinning her lithe arms above her head with the force of one fist, he used his free hand to grasp her left breast, first titillating the milky flesh with gentle strokings, then, as lust raged in his groin, he clawed at it cruelly, mauling the tender flesh. Beneath his one hundred and ninety pounds, she thrashed feebly, ineffective against his fingertips that were slowly tightening her nipples into diamond chips.
With a deep groan, he pulled his mouth free of her and mashed his lips down upon one trapped breast, while the free hand mauled at its twin.
"No, Phil... you're hurting me... please stop this and �_" and be friends!" she pleaded, chewing on her quivering bottom lip.
Reveling in her cries, he bit harder on the nipple and licked it to a throbbing erection.
Memories of her drunken father peeling off her covers and pressing his body close to her sleeping one sparked a fear of his strength. Another fear sidled it... the fear of her galloping desire, once thwarted today. His pinching fingers mauled her breast and then roamed to the flat bowl of her belly.
Like a stuck worm, she wiggled against his meaty hands. Now his knees pinned her shoulders and arms tight to the mattress. A sadistic smirk creased his mouth as he teased at the blonde fleece of her pubic curls, still damp from the shower.
Carrie's blue eyes slitted, her eyelashes fluttering over ruby cheeks. Six inches away, Phil's loins throbbed above her face. The outline of his throbbing cock strained against his pants, tenting them, wetting them with a dime-sized pearl of pre-cum. His hungry hand grabbed one slender thigh and yanked it aside, giving his fingers free reign in the forest of her sex. Over the sensitive, pouting lips of her cunt he stroked.
Carrie stiffened. Fear was melding into desire. She clenched her teeth, hissing up at him.
If she didn't get free of him, he would have his way with her �_" and his way was the cruel way. Lust, not love. Like Mother and Father, she thought glumly.
"Please, Phil... let's stop this!" Her voice was thick with lust, raspy, hissing from her lungs.
"Anything but this... you're trying to rape me... you're supposed to be in love with me!"
she wailed. She stiffened board-like then as he slipped his cold middle finger into the hot depths of her virginal cunt. Revolted by the attack, she squirmed, trying to extricate herself; yet her body refused to deny a shiver of pleasure. To let him finger-fuck her to orgasm was a tough temptation to fight... but Carrie fought... and won for the moment.
"This is no way to make love," she pleaded coyly. "Take off your clothes," she cajoled.
"Hmmmmm?" Phil stared down at her naked body, no longer fighting. Slowly, he released his grip on her reddened wrist.
"Let's make love the right way," she breathed huskily, smiling beguiling up into his passion taut face. To prove sincerity, she ground her belly up against his pawing palm, arching her back to urge him to massage the swollen lips of her pussy.
Squinting suspiciously down at her, trying to decipher the sudden tight smile, he rose up on his knees and worked at his belt. He yanked down his jockey shorts and the blood fed head of his cock bobbed free, slapping viriley against his belly.
Now was her chance! Flying off the mattress, she pushed him backwards. Phil tumbled off the edge of the bed onto his stomach. She shot off the bed and darted for the bathroom.
But Phil's hand flew out and grabbed one slender ankle, just as Carrie screamed for him to get out. She shrieked, kicking at his face and clawing at the carpet for a handhold.
Like a stuffed doll he easily dragged her over the carpet and, up on his knees, he grabbed her by the hair and wrapped his knuckles in her wet tresses.
"You bitch!" he groaned. Yanking her head back, he mashed his lips against hers in a choking French kiss. Pulling her head back, he pinned her to the bedroom floor and ground his hairy groin against her quivering thighs.
Carried stiffened in rage and fear, twisting in , his arms, but his bruising strength overwhelmed her. This is it... a voice within her said. That precious thing you've treasured will soon be a cheap nothing! Her mind flashed to the young vigilante and his strong, wiry body, panther-like, predatory. Her naked flesh quivered and goosebumped in combat with itself.
"Phil... please... no____" she hissed, twisting her head free of his bruising kiss. She gasped for breath while he sucked in his, his hands pinching and mauling-her tender flesh.
"You bitch! You want to get fucked so bad you can taste it! That black cock got you horny, didn't it, honey?" sneered Phil accusingly. "That black boy's cum dribbling down the windshield... Christ, you almost came in your pants! I watched the expression on your face!" His hand dug into her hip. Incensed by his words, Carrie watched in horror as his fingers slowly moved down her smoothly curving thigh. Her naked body bolted and a sob died in her throat as she squirmed backwards on her elbows. But Carrie's fragile femininity was no test for Phil's brutal strength. Against her naked belly, his cock throbbed as his hands mauled her buttocks painfully. His passion taut face was inches from her own, his foul alcohol breath bathing her cheek in hot blasts. Locked together in hate and love, they glared into each other's eyes. A perverse fascination, almost mesmeric, passed between them. The thrill of feeling his cock pressed against her belly, feeling the wet, sticky drop of pre-cum dribble into her navel, was lewd and wicked. Yet she had made a commitment to herself; No sex until marriage.
Through slitted, glassy eyes, he glared at her. "You're a fucking gorgeous woman!" He stroked the wet hair from her forehead. "I'd love to see you fuck another man... Christ, I'd cum in my pants!"
His hand pressed against her throbbing breasts, streaked with red trails from mauling fingertips. Carrie's pale blue eyes lowered to the strong male hands dominating her breasts. Deep within her female psyche, she had to admit the idea was tempting.
His lips bruised against her soft ones as his hand gouged between their nakedly pressed bodies to dive into the silky tendrils of her pussy hair. Like elevator doors, her thighs slid open, a hiss tearing from her chest. Cool air bathed her hot cunt, sending a shiver of terrifying anticipation to snake up her spine. With a first show of tenderness, he parted the lips of her vagina, slipping his extended middle finger into its warm wetness.
Cringing into the carpet, moaning from desire so hot she could taste it, Carrie shuddered, wiggling beneath him, trying to free herself. "No, Phil... this isn't at all right____"
"You love it... all cunts love it!" he sneered, his head dropping, he clamped one rosebud nipple between his front teeth. Carrie flexed her hips against the bittersweet pain. The movement forced his middle finger an inch deeper within the warm, wet confines of her virgin cunt. Eyes clenched shut, Carrie had given herself up to him, prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice. Sudden the finger pulled free.
"What... are you...?" She knew his intent then, as he slunk one arm around her waist and struggling to his feet, picked her up and dumped her on the bed.
"Say goodbye to innocence, sweetheart, cause you and I are going to fuck!"
Carrie lay on her back, legs spread wide, the air conditioning blowing cool blasts over the steaming morass of her pussy. He slid between her -slender ankles and stared at the blonde fleece nesting her legs; her cuntal lips were kissed with juice, her lips ragged and ready. They throbbed, inches from his mouth. Phil's back arched, his testicles rubbing against the bedspread, their sacs filling with hot seed while his hands dug at her tender thighs, bruising them. She winced as he slithered forward, dragging his tongue down over .her belly until it stopped at the blonde hairs tickling his nose. Carrie's head shot up off the bed.
"No... not that! That's horrible... that's disgusting!" she wailed.
Mouth watering from the fleshy feast a tongue-lick away, he stared at the dewed, petal-like lips and the throbbing button of her clitoris.
Pie-eyed, she watched him place his thumbs on her cuntal mound and gently pull the fleshy lips apart.
Her eyelids fluttered from the feel of hot breath snorting from his flaring nostrils, making her clitoris pound painfully, electrically. She sucked in her breath, her head falling limply to the bed with the first slithering lick of his hot tongue against her flaming pussy flesh!
Her body jolted, jerked, as if a hot wire were touching her clitoris. Automatically, her body ground into the bed, trying to slither away from the damningly maddening feel of his hot tongue worming into her sex. "Gawd... oh, Gawd!" she rasped, flailing her wet tresses on the bed. Up and down the sleekness of her goosebumped inner thighs, stroked his hot tongue, stopping at the throbbing oily nub of her clitoris. She stiffened, corpse-like as resistance died! faster and faster, he plunged his tongue up into the wet hole between her thighs, while she raised her head to watch the salacious assault on her virgin flesh. Sinful pleasure shot through her being, sizzling to the bone as she watched her treasured vagina being sucked, her juices swallowed. Perverted, disgusting, animal-like... and God help her, terrifyingly pleasurable!
Expertly his hands slipped tenderly under her firm buttocks, cupping the flesh in the hot palms of his hands, pressing her mound to his licking mouth and lapping tongue, lewd sucking sounds echoing in the silent room. Carrie's eyelids fluttered and uncontrollable groans tore from her throat. Her body spasmed, pelvis grinding against his face while he slithered his tongue deeper into the crying hole of her cunt. A finger probed at the cringing hole of her anus then, pressuring against the sensitive flesh. Clenching her hands into fists, she dug her polished fingertips in-' to the palm of her hand, creating her own hell.
Moaning deep within his throat, he drew her legs up around his neck, lifting her buttocks off the mattress and locked her ankles behind him, opening the plane of her fleecy cunt.
Faster, deeper, he rammed his tongue into her cunt, pulling it free then to swirl his tongue around the swollen bud of her clitoris. Her ragged cuntal lips parted easily and her buttocks spasmed from the pad of his finger dipping into the private nether region.
Snickering to himself, knowing he'd conquered her soul, he lifted her buttocks higher and plastering his lips to the button of her anus, sucked on the cringing brown hole.
"Ahhhh!" Carrie sobbed in humiliation and defeat. Her mind screamed one demand and her body another as she ground her trembling loins against his sucking mouth. She froze, pulling back, feeling her breasts and stomach throb in thrills of pleasure. Phil lapped his tongue from the hole of her cringing anus to the open lips of her cunt... back and forth, up and down... as Carrie's body burned with the need to cum.
Fiery with lust, the virginal school teacher thrust her pelvis up to him, offering herself to his raping tongue. At least she had her precious treasure... this only his tongue, thank God!
She ground her cunt against his cum-smeared face, mashing his nose tight her throbbing clitoris. Between her shivering legs she felt his hot rubbery tube pound with lust.
Phil reveled in victory! He ground his aching cock into the rough fabric of the bedspread as his mouth watered and feasted on her quivering cunt. Her silken pubic curls tickled his cheeks, filling him with a sense of power that only a man can feel. If the stubborn German would give up her high and mighty ideals about saving black children and cook him three square meals a day, he would eat her like this every day! The world was full of frustrated women and this one didn't know what a prize she had! Deep inside, he had to admit her response was unexpected. Now he let her legs drop, reveling in her moans as he lapped his slithering tongue into the cum wetted walls of her vagina. His tongue seemed to hit bottom and with a thrill, he realized he was licking her cherry!
He suckled her vagina as if he were a baby sucking on his mother's breast �_" only the breast was his fiancee's clitoris! He wondered if deep within that virginal soul a dark corner harbored lust for sadomasochism. Her small hands pulled at his hair, yanking his face tighter to her cunt until he feared he might suffocate! Ovaling his lips, he sucked babyishly, alternating the suckings with a deep tongue fuck that brought a low groan from Carrie's throat �_" the death rattle of virginity! Her wetly clasping flesh slipped around his tongue and the walls of her pussy contracted in a vacuuming rhythm until he feared she might pull his tongue out by the roots! Her pussy lips were tight and virginal, her taste piquantly sweet, mouthwatering!
Carrie's body jerked convulsively as every nerve ending in her naked flesh sizzled with the need to cum. She writhed and grunted and twisted, pushing away from him and yanking him to her in lusty movements reserved for the possessed!
It was cumming... the cum waters ready to flood the dam, "Ohhhhh... uuuuugggghhh.
... " she chanted as he screwed her cunt with his spearing tongue. His hands roamed over her body, teasing her breasts, her anus, her clitoris... while his tongue dipped deeper, making her tingle from the tips of her diamond chip nipples to her curled under toes.
Delicious pain ricocheted through her body. A dream? A nightmare? What were these hellish sensations, these devils with pitchforks, stabbing at her naked flesh?
"Oh... oh... I'm going to cum!" she grunted, jerking and heaving up against him, pumping against him. She gasped, moaned, twitched while his tongue flicked over the bud of her clitoris. Now he sucked with vacuuming pressure, drawing the ragged lips deep into his warm, wet mouth, while his tongue licked at the pleasure button between her goosebumped, quivering thighs.
His hands dipped under her knees and with a lusty grunt, he shoved her knees back until her knee caps mashed against the nubs of her breasts. The hairy plain of her cunt was his now, from the oily nub of her clitoris to the puckered hole of her anus. His slobbering mouth slaved over it.
"Ohhhhh----" she was one fire! If he stopped, she would die. DIE! It shuddered through her with lightning force until at last she settled back on the bed, heart pounding, body shivering in the aftermath of orgasm. Laughing to himself, he kissed her pussy good-bye and licking his lips, pulled his cum smeared mouth free of her cunt.
"Christ, you've got a beautiful ass!" he hissed.
Through lust-glassy eyes she squinted up at him, tortured by red-faced shame. Her eyes lowered to his hairy chest down to his stomach to his throbbing penis jutting out from his loins. It throbbed before her eyes. Carrie swallowed dryly, gawking as mesmerically she watched him- pump at it, pulling back the thick foreskin. A pearl of pre-cum oozed from the tip. His nostrils flared with lust.
"Phil... please... let's save it... we agreed to, remember?" she choked.
"Shuddup! You had your fun, now let me have mine!"
Oh, God, he wouldn't do it to her �_" against her will? Like father used to do to mother on the nights when he beat her into submission?
All one hundred and ninety pounds of Phil Carmichael's muscular flesh descended upon Carrie's frail one hundred and ten pounds of womanly flesh. Pinned to the bed with his hard, throbbing cock snaking slimily against her belly, she wiggled like a stuck worm.
Salty tears pearled from her eyes as she felt his fist guide the mushroom tipped head toward the drenched, satiated opening of her virginal womb. He prodded at the swollen lips, wiggling it inside the slippery walls. The electrifyingly hot contact bolted through her.
To say it was a disgusting feeling would be a lie. Slowly, stretching pressure opened the lips, and then he thrust.
"Nooooo...!" Her cries vibrated off the walls, mingling with the more impatient calls of mothers summoning their children in for dinner.
Her pressured harder, his veiny penis squirming inch by inch into her cringing vagina, making his victim aware of every veiny inch of his blood fed hardness drilling relentlessly into her virginal womb. Phil lay panting on top of her, nearly spent from the effort of wedging his meat into her tight hole.
"Nnnnggghhh... " Sweat beaded her satiny forehead, cheeks flushed and washed in salty tears. The pain was excruciating, like being stabbed slowly.
He ground against her hymen with drilling force. The pressure was unbearable.
Carrie's fists wadded with the bedspread. Then the pressure gave and a warm flood of blood gushed from her hymen. Grunting with the effort, he rocked above her, stroking in long, smooth strokes while she flailed her head in pain and humiliation, hating herself for believing he would give her pleasure and demand none for himself. What a fool! A stupid, naive fool she'd been! She felt dizzy with pain. Her body responded in horror as she ground her buttocks into the mattress, trying to escape this horrid impalement! She squeezed her vaginal muscles, trying to force him out like toothpaste from a tube.
But this hot, rubbery tube was not to be eliminated from the pulsing hole of her womb.
Now the pain abated, dulling to an open, vulnerable sensation. Phil levered up on his palms and bent his head to watch his blood smeared penis drill into his fiancee's violated cunt. His cock was blue with pounding blood beneath the shreds of her hymen. The pink inner lips of her pussy clung possessively to his cock. To make it complete, he slipped his hand under her buttocks and poked the pad of his middle finger into the spongy hole of her anus.
"Ohhhh... no... no!" she spat up at his taut features, tight with lust. Her anus popped open and in slipped his finger to the first knuckle.
Pain and humiliation were partners in guilt now, as the once virgin was fucked in the cunt and fucked in the anus, with a grunting animal riding her body. After a few moments of agonizing, the blonde haired school teacher, fresh from the countryside of Minnesota, began to experience a strange percolation of joy. Never one to do things half way, she ground against his pelvis, drilling his penis deeper into her belly.
His probing middle finger raped her anus deep enough to feel his own cock on the vaginal side of the thin membrane. Victory was his! He roared into her until Carrie thought for sure he'd pulverized her intestines! Every sinew of Phil's body stretched like a bowstring when he pounded into her frail body, banging into her cervix with hammering force... right up to the slashing sperm filled balls drubbed at her anus.
The bitch loves it! I knew those black cocksuckers got her horny! Jesus, look at her ride my prick!
"Ohhh... gawd... you're killing me!" she groaned, coughing for breath. If he kept this up, he'd tear her womb in half!
His sperm heavy testicles slapped against her violated,, tiny pink anus, its hairless lips puckering from the warm, cum seeping from well sucked pussy. Between his hairy thighs, his testicles felt like two loads of cement �_" waiting to be dumped! His lusty brain swam with the need to shoot his sperm into her belly. Maybe knock her up �_" that would keep her home! He rammed into her, drilled, gored and fucked like a maddened bull into a young heffer.
Carrie's naked breasts, sheened with perspiration, bounced and her legs jerked out convulsively on the bed. Blonde hair streaked across her face in wet strands as she moaned out her litany of fulfillment. Arching her back, she thrust her pelvis against his groin, struggling to get every hotly throbbing inch.
"Oh... oh, Phill... I'm, I'm cummmmming!" she groaned.
Cum, she did... in torrents!
Carrie's cuntal walls sucked at the spewing tube shooting waves of boiling sperm into her wildly gyrating cunt. She chewed at her swollen lower lip feeling the walls of her pussy milk him down to the last drop. Even her tiny puckered anus squeezed in joy, pulling his finger deeper into the spongy depths of her bowels.
With a sigh of satiated fatigue, Carrie fell weakly to the bed. Her fluttering eyelids closed over glassy eyes. Shimmers of damp blonde hair clung recklessly to her forehead and cheeks, dampened by the sweat of her labors. She cooed contentedly.
The air conditioner's chill evaporated the sweat of her swollen breasts and forehead, rousing her to consciousness. Immediately her blue yes flew open to glare hatefully at the man lying on top of her, squeezing the breath out of her as he had squeezed the blood from her hymen. His thick, deflated cock felt sticky and wormlike in her vagina. Pleasure fled. A pain deep within her soul jabbed and stabbed.
"Get off of me, you brute!" she spat, shoving against his chest. Her eyes were reddened slits, hatefully directed at the man she had intended to marry �_" once.
"Don't be that way, Carrie," He pleaded. That was fantastic... "
"I said GET OUT!"
Too exhausted to put up a mental fight, Phil snatched at his clothes and muttering under his breath about uptight virgins, left his bride-to-be sobbing hysterically on the blood stained bed. At the door, he paused, reconsidering. Maybe force wasn't the way to handle a woman like Carrie. Then how the hell, he cogitated, raking strong fingers through his hair, did most men cope with women?
CHAPTER THREE
"Carrie----"A rap of knuckles on the door. "Carrie... I want to talk to you... open up." A deep impatient sigh. "Don't be stubborn... let me in!" The voice grew in volume and deepened with impatience.
Two watery blue eyes gazed sleepily toward the kitchen where a splash of yellow light bathed the room in a warm glow. Carrie shuddered under the covers pulled tight to her chin and listened apathetically to the male voice pleading from the door.
Fiery sunlight intense as a sunlamp shone through her bedroom window early the next morning. She awakened with the discomforting feeling of separation, like awakening from a dream. Reality had not set in. Better it hadn't.
Drugged with depression, Carrie forced herself out of bed and into the shower. Dressed, she busied herself about her apartment, making lists of things to buy: Rug for the bath, new curtains for the bedroom.-Disheartened, she gazed about the small, semi-furnished apartment with the enthusiasm of a traveling salesman flopping down his suitcase in the tenth hotel room in as many nights. With time, it would feel like home. Now it felt foreign and stale.
Like my mental state, she snickered bitterly to herself.
But badness is balanced by goodness, and more determined than ever to fulfill her dream of teaching sociology, explaining the state of society, she unpacked a box of textbooks and thumbed through her notebook of lessons �_" her senior thesis project.
Two days later, the sterile bathroom was brightened with a crisp yellow rug, in a bowl vase floated magnolia blossoms plucked from the tree brushing against the rail of her balcony.
A pink satin coverlet replaced the scratchy plaid one, now folded up and forgotten, stained with virginal blood. Slowly patiently, 133 Badger Street was becoming home. She made friends with the woman across the hall, a rather rumpled woman who wore housecoats late into the day and sported a penchant for hair rollers, though Carrie had never seen her socialize.
This wasn't friendly northern Minnesota, but she would cope, she decided on the first morning of school. Phil had not succeeded in cajoling himself into her apartment and that strengthened resolve a notch. Once friends with her pupils, the constant distraction of counseling and preparing lessons would fill her nights and she would forget the animalistic beast who cared more about his plumped up ego than her feminine preciousness! Selfish man, Sex... sex... sex... that's all men think about! she tutted, grabbing her handbag and book bag and storming through the door, happy to be at work at last.
Happy, until she crossed the sidewalk from the bus stop and entered the fenced-in asphalted parking lot outside George Washington High.
Like a convict being escorted to prison, she thought, stiffening and watching hordes of teenage girls with less innocent faces than her own in skin tight jeans swagger up the steps. Negro girls with Afro hairdos worn in braids with beads jiggling about their shoulders, and others with huge combs stuck recklessly in the black bushes of their hair.
Sassy attitudes, defiant, rebellious and sporting a self-confidence no one felt even as an adult, she thought mingling with the crown toward the front steps littered with cigarette butts and candy wrappers. And the boys, if one could call them that, dragging on cigarettes and staring glassy eyed at the women parading past them for their prurient pleasure.
True, Carrie's apple-cheeked, blonde haired, blue eyed features didn't mix well with the potpourri of humanity. Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Blacks, with a poorly represented percentage of whites. Like salt and pepper, mused Carrie, scurrying past them and down the hall. Halfway down the hallway whose walls were decorated with posters advising against smoking, drinking and drugs... fresh and free of graffiti on this first day of school �_" Carrie stiffened.
"Hey, if it ain't the white honkie with the tits! Hey, man, you seen 'er before! 'Member the white bitch in the car done stripped for us?"
Oh, dear God... it can't be him! Blood pounded in her ears, vision fuzzed. Forcing a stiff upper lip, she swirled around and stared into the black face of the fifteen year-old boy who'd masturbated on Phil's windshield four days prior! She would recognize him anywhere: Proud Afro hairdo, sparkling chocolate eyes, wide nose, high cheekbones �_"and the tight faded levis hugging his muscular thighs, belt riding low on his hips. Biceps bulging with panther-like strength. It was him and he was taunting her, humiliating her in front of the entire school!
Shooting him a threatening glance, she stomped toward the principal's office to be assigned a classroom. Breath snorted from her nostrils. Dizzy, she pressed her fingers to her forehead for a light massage and stood before the secretary's desk.
A kind faced black woman stared concernedly up at her. "Are you okay, Miz?"
"What... ? Oh, yes, I'm fine... just a bit warm for me.
The black woman's buxom breasts bounced with laughter. "I can tell you don' be from this part of the south! White skin like yours gotta be from up north somewheres... "
"Minnesota �_" where the sun never shines," returned Carrie, calmed by the other's kindness. "I'm Carrie Osgood, sociology teacher and I'd like my room assignment, please."
The black woman's glasses sat on the tip of her nose, thick lips pooched in concentration as the chipped polished fingertip ran down the computer sheet. "Ah, ha... here we be! Miz Osgood, Sociology 101, Room 102." The woman shook her head and dark eyes rose over her bifocals to stare at Carrie. "Don' envy you none teachin' that class... boy we got us some rough ones now. All them killin's makin' everybody jump outta their skin! Ain' no way to live, no way at all... "
An alarm sounded in the hallway, proclaiming ten minutes until first hour. "Thank you, I'd better rush off... "
101, 102... muttered Carrie to herself, perusing the freshly painted numbers on the glass windows smelling freshly on this first day of school of ammonia.
Half of her class had seated themselves when she rushed through the class room door.
Laughing, telling jokes, radios blaring, there they were �_" her pupils. Her blue eyes swept over the rows of black ones staring defiantly back at her. Abruptly she stiffened. In the back row next to the window, smouldering Kool cigarette dangling from his thick enigmatically smiling lips, sat the boy who had caused her nothing but anguish from her first two hours in Atlanta.
"Put out that cigarette this minute! This isn't a pool hall!" she spat in retaliation. Plunking her handbag and bookbag on the desk, she glared at him and watched in stupefied horror as his lanky, tight muscled body unfolded from the desk and opening the window, flicked the lit butt into the parking lot. Settling back at his desk, he muttered something that tore a chant of obscene laughter from the thick lips of his companions, and made girls clamp hands over their mouths.
His dark liquid eyes, predatory and hungry, scanned the rich bumps and curves of Carrie's svelte body, settling on the round sells of her breasts. "My name's Cederick... pleased to make your acquaintance, m'am."
Accept it as cruel ridicule or politeness? That was Carrie's dilemma. Forcing a warm smile, she made a quick survey of the room. Late comers filtered in as the last bell rang.
"Class, I'm happy to be your sociology teacher. My name is Carrie Osgood and, as you can probably tell," she announced with a twitter of fear for repercussions, yet wanting to be honest with them,"... I'm from the north."
She felt his eyes on her making a casual but extremely thorough examination of her lush young body under the thin cotton dress. "I will expect you all to be on time and anyone tardy will be forced to stay after school. As your teacher, I expect a modicum of respect.
... "
A hand shot up in the back row. Predictably, as she'd feared, it was Cederick's black paw waving in the air. "Yes, Cederick."
"What's modicum mean? I ain' never heard tha' word before."
"Modicum means a moderate amount of... " she explained, hoping she'd misjudged his intentions.
"Oh," he returned. "I though tha' had sometin' to do with cummin'... you know, cunts and dicks and all tha' shit... "
"There will be no vile language in this room!" she snapped. "Let's keep the garbage in the streets �_" please!"
"How's 'bout they keep it in the north----" came a guttural reply.
"Yeah!" echoed a comrade of Cederick's whom Carrie feared might have been involved in the baseball bat vigilante group. Her cheeks burned as she recognized him as the one who'd plastered his face to the car window and licked his lips as she slumped in the car, naked from the waist up, head bent, sobbing in abject humiliation.
"Yeah... I thought they done promised us a black teacher! We gittin' real tired down here in Atlanta of da white folks givin' us shit! You talk 'bout garbage in the streets, m'am... we can't even walk da streets no more wif out gettin' killed and dumped in da river!"
"Yeah... " echoed another, followed by a chorus of acquiescence rumbling about the room.
Fearfully, Carried counted a total of three whites in a classroom accommodating twenty-two. Clearly, she was in the minority, and they wouldn't let her forget it! Sexual innuendoes were to be expected, but the naked truth of self-defense, righteously stated, was impossible to rebut. Still, the fact that she was from the north and white, didn't make her responsible for the killings, or the attitudes slated against blacks. The mere fact that she was here teaching in a predominantly black school should be proof of that! A deep hurt, deeper than Phil's rape, darkened her spirits. She tried to ignore the comment and take roll-call from the computer printout sheet sitting on her desk.
"Rufus Stone... Janet Smith... Cederick Waters... Charlie White... Clara Jones... " On and on, down the list, her heart sinking with each name. After clipping the list of absentees to the clipboard outside the door, she asked if there were any questions. Of course, there would be... with rebellious, defiant teenagers like those sitting staring at her with hate-filled eyes.
"I got a question." A pretty young girl with a cocky, barnyard attitude, straightened at her desk. She wore a tight yellow sweater, cupping the lemons of her budding fourteen year-old breasts. The dark areolas of her nipples poked through like bumblebees. Her hair was braided, decorated with beads. In kinder circumstances, Carrie would have judged her a very beautiful young girl -- modelish and leggy and very, very self-assured. "I wanna know why it jus' be blacks gits vic'mized. How come there ain' no black man killin' white kids...
snatchin' em out from under der mothers' noses and stranglin' em? Nobody cares if a black kid gits killed... but... "
Carrie cut her short with a silencing had. "Please, let's not get carried away. I understand the tension black youth are experiencing in Atlanta and I'm... "
"You understand! You understand! A black boy next to Cederick shot to his feet, jabbing a bony finger in her direction. A young Stokley Carmichael he could have been. Better still, a Huey Newton, she amended mentally, considering his handsome features. "How cin you understan' when you been here four days! Shit, my ol' lady won' even let me sit on the stoop at night no more! You ever live in a house wid eight kids an, two bedrooms! I can' even sit on ma stoop!"
Carries eyes shot toward the door. She felt her cheeks burning. Certainly someone in the hallway must have heard the angered outburst. Security guards? The principal?
"Perhaps," she sighed with a quick intake of breath, "we could relate these matters to our sociology lessons, Write a letter to our congressman, senator maybe."
A groan of contempt roared from the classroom.
"Dat kinda shit don' do no good!" grumbled Cederick, brandishing his hand in a dismissing gesture and clearly robbing her of control.
"We're going to teach this class my way," averred Carrie staunchly. "There will be no more racial slurs, no more complaints. If we want to make changes within society, first we must change ourselves. Attitudes give rise to other attitudes, bitterness to bitterness... and quite frankly," and here she crossed her arms defiantly over her chest and stared point blank into Cederick's eyes, "I see nothing but bitterness and hatred here in this room."
Straightening, she rose from her chair behind the desk and leaned against the front of her scratched, metal desk. "I will make no apologies for being born with white skin... I could be purple for all I care! I'm here because I want to do something for society and if you can't accept that, I would happily have you transfer to another class. Is that understood?"
Another kind of derision separated the room now. The pretty young black girl was staring hatefully at Cederick. That a private battle ensued between the new white teacher and Cederick was starkly evident. Each time he stared at Carrie's svelte, buxom body, the girl thrust out her chest and rubbed a polished fingertip over the nipple of her left breast, trying to pry her boyfriend's eyes loose from the teacher.
Carrie, catching the movement out of the corner of her eye, stopped in mid-sentence, horrified at the girl's brazen lustiness. Not wanting to rouse the other students' attention, she blatantly ignored the lewd gesture. Finally, it was Cederick himself who threw a cigarette at the girl to put her fingers at rest. The Rose, whose name she found on the seating chart, smirked hatefully back at Miss Osgood, as if to say, "You won this bout, but baby, don't cross my path!" The hour wore on and wore thin. Weakened from maintaining defenses for sixty accusing minutes, Carrie nearly yelped for joy when the bell rang.
A stampede of students shuffled out the door, casting their new teacher challenging looks over shoulders bearing chips. They had laughed at her, rebuked her, challenged her sincerity. She collapsed in her chair, frustrated, personally abused. She was in the midst, like it or not, of a horde of vigilante youth, ghetto children under the threat of death... and they wouldn't let her forget it!
Massaging fingertips worked at the lightning rod tension sizzling through her head. Her stomach rumbled, and she remembered she hadn't eaten breakfast. The south, she was learning, was a difficult place to live. Silly it would be to ask herself why she' come to this hate-ridden corner of the world. Why not San Francisco, romantic and cool, she wondered, willing the sweat from her brow. Or Chicago? At least it was a cultured city.
Phillip Jay Carmichael was the answer to it all. Now he was out of the picture, leaving a dark, empty hole. She had planned to offer spare time on community committees to advance the consciousness of Atlanta slums... now that was a forgotten dream. Still, she couldn't afford to dump her job, her apartment, her future because of one miserable man!
Wearily, she gathered up the computer printout sheet, and seating chart, stuffed them into her bookbag which she slung over her shoulder and headed for the teacher's lounge down the hall and one flight down.
A quarter plunked into the candy machine and the weary-faced blonde haired teacher ruminated on the merits of Jack LaLaine candy bar opposed to the traditional Snickers, when a tall, square-faced man wearing sweat pants and a sweat shirt, sauntered silently in Adidas gym shoes behind her. A basketball was tucked in the crook of his arm. He bounced it twice to get her attention.
"Hi... " It was a heartless greeting on her part. Turning back to the candy machine, she pulled the lever and a gold wrapped bar plunked in the tray below.
"Good choice," he offered in a deep voice. "I eat 'em myself all the time." His toothy grin melted into concern. "Hey, what's the matter? Students giving you a hard time?"
"Hard isn't the word for it!" she burst, amazed at her aggressiveness. "All they talk about is these killings... I admit it's horrible, murderous, but it's not my fault!" She found herself yelling at him, transmitting the concern to him. "I'm sorry," Her head bent and her voice softened. "I don't mean to take it out on you."
"Ah, I know how it is... this is a hard school to teach in. Hey, you don't sound like you're from the south."
"Minnesota," she answered almost apologetically, taking in the muscular height of him and feeling a sense of familiarity. Phil's height, weight, build.
"Care for a drink after school? God knows I need one. We're starting off the season on a losing note. I gotta put us on the top if I wanna keep my job." He returned her accepting smile, Amazingly, Carrie's second class of the day was comprised of a smattering of well-mannered Mexicans - mostly girls �_" and the remainder white. She slipped through that class easily and met Jason, the basketball coach in the parking lot. He opened the door of a green MG and she slipped in. "Glad to see you survived the first day. Lots of teachers don't," he commented, revving the engine and backing out of the parking lot. A crunch of broken glass drew a wince from the coach. "Damned kids leave their beer bottles under the wheels. Think it's funny!" He swore under his breath and tore out of the parking lot in a screech of burning rubber. Carrie glared at his foul-tempered expression out of the corner of one blue eye hiding behind ovalled sunglasses perched atop her perky nose.
"Students are different here. I'm used to slow-talking mid-westerners with even tempers."
She, shrugged her lovely shoulders. "I guess you have to blame it on environment."
"Yeah," he agreed, ramming the gear shift as the green MG made a tight right onto the main street. "Damned ghetto kids don't appreciate anything! Half of 'em belong behind bars, I swear!"
His racist attitude, equal to Phil's sour one, ate at complacency. "That's not a fair assumption, Jason. You could have been born black... "
His blonde head flew around and he glared at her dumbstruck.
"Or me____" she quickly amended.
Jason lost no time changing the subject. "I know of a nice little bar with cold beer and nachos dripping with cheese. Join me?"
"I... I should be going home. I am engaged," she said, taken aback by his racist attitude and aggressive attitude. "We're supposed to have dinner together."
Lines tightened on his forehead. "Then why the hell did you lead me on?" he burst. "You could have told me from the start instead of wasting my time!"
Carrie turned her head, away from his open examination of her delicious curves, stunned that any body could be so rude. Maybe Phil was right: Southern men don't take no for an answer �_" without a fight! She had caught the glint in his eye and shivered. Never in four days had she met more disagreeable men. Cederick .. the defiant, man-boy and his licentious girl friend. Dear God, didn't anyone have any manners down here?
"I live a block from here. I don't mind walking," she announced with a firm set to her jaw.
"So your fiance doesn't see you, no doubt," he snickered, drawing up to the curb with a rocking halt.
"Thanks for the lift," she sniped, grabbing her bookbag and slamming the car door with a tinny bang of finality.
Men! I can't believe what animals they are! Really, did he think he was going to make love to me? The audacity!
Her apartment felt claustrophobic with heat. Ripping open the balcony curtains, she yanked open the sliding glass doors and stood on the balcony for a long moment.
Delicately, she broke a magnolia blossom from its branch and sniffed its sweetness. Five o'clock sounds of mothers calling their children echoed in her ears, as she watched them with dirty faced children at their heels, greeting husbands with tight hugs as they pulled into the parking lot. The contrast to her own morbid existence was as depressing as the suffocating heat.
For the hundredth time, visions of Phil's animalistic attack flitted through her mind like an x-rated movie. Somehow, she could not dispel the shameful feeling that she had instigated his attack by working herself into a frustrated pitch in the shower. And Phil telling her she had enjoyed stripping for the black ghetto vigilantes! Clenching shut her blue eyes, she nervously stepped into the kitchen and slammed shut the glass doors. Why did that young boy unnerve her so? A third provocateur joined the lineup: Jason, basketball coach. Actually believing he could sleep with her after one day's acquaintance!
A feeling of loneliness and desertion so black and deep she couldn't fight it, weighed like a bag of cement in her heart. Shoving it aside, she pitted emotion against rationale. If she had precipitated his attack, then it was unfair to punish him. By punishing him, she punished herself. And who, she realized in a burst of understanding, was losing then?
Self-pity? Fear? Maybe Phil had been showing respect for her by arranging for an apartment, helping find her a teaching position. Was she as frigid as he accused her of being?
Perhaps she was unwomanly, wasteful in punishing Phil for his dominant, manhood and expecting him to plead for her favors. The more he wanted her, the further back she pushed him until now, like a crucifix she had him nailed with the sin of rape on his soul!
"Oh, no, what have I done!" she wailed, raising a clenched fist to her mouth. In this city of black vigilantes and hatred, she needed someone close to her. Needed a man to protect and love her, to smooth the ragged edges of reality. Like a fool, she fought him off and insulted his masculinity. What man in that situation wouldn't ignore her, leave her to her own self-created torment?
CHAPTER FOUR
"You gotta be kidding?" Phil was seeing red.
"Two-hundred-fifty for the bumper... that's labor and parts----" the body repairman said, adding figures on his clipboard."----and one hundred for tail lights and labor... comes to three-fifty, no matter how you add it."
"Holy shit...!" grumbled Phil, running fingers through his brown hair and shuffling, trying to vent an anger directed at the wrong person. Times like these, in temperamental flares, the only means of releasing the adrenalin flow was an energetic roll in the sack with a hot woman.
Glaring over the lit end of his cigarette, feeling a pint of blood rush to his groin, his thoughts took that lusty path. At the far end of the body shop, behind the cash register, stood a young black girl thumbing through cancelled checks and adding up figures on a calculator.
He barely heard the repairman's inquiry as to the name of his insurance company. "I said I'd take care of the paper work, Mr. Carmichael... " The repairman followed the intent direction of Phil's gaze. Pushing back the bill of his hat, he shoved a hand into the pocket of his jump suit and toyed with a key ring.
"Quite a looker, am' she____" He whistled and got the response he wanted.
Sharon's gleaming white teeth shone in a smile as she lifted her head. "Don' you be gettin' fresh now, honey," she winked back at him.
Phil, cigarette dangling from his lips, sauntered self-assured over to the office, leather soled shoes scuffling along the cement floor. Leaning an elbow on the ledge, he grinned salaciously and plucking a cigarette from his mouth, dropped it to the floor and mashed it out with his shoe.
"You're a nice looking girl, you know that?" he said in a deep, sexy voice. "Why don't you come out from behind that desk and show me the rest of you?"
Sharon arched her back, thrusting out the melonous swells of her breasts. "Listen, big boy, I ain't a cheap date. I demand dinner, drinks and... well, after that____" Flattered by his attention, she jerked her head in the body repairman's direction. "I'll be out of here in ten minutes. Meet me down the block...?"
He did.
"I'm Phil's fiancee," insisted Carrie at the apartment manager's door, "we were supposed to have dinner together at his place and, well... " she shrugged sheepishly,... I forgot my key... do you suppose you could let me in his apartment?"
The old woman clutched at the flap on her housecoat and perused the innocent, Pollyanna-scrubbed woman who'd distracted her from the late afternoon game show that chattered noisily in the background from a crackling television set.
"Phil's getting married, is he?" She turned her back to Carrie. "Bout time that one settles down," she grumbled, shuffling off in bedroom slippers to retrieve her ring of apartment keys hanging from a nail on the kitchen wall.
"Thank you, I really appreciate it... " Carrie closed Phil's apartment door and watched the old woman hobble across the hall as she mumbled complaints Carrie didn't care to hear.
Divorce, damned men, scourging insults.
Phil's apartment was definitely masculine. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, empty beer cans littering the floor next to the leather recliner a convenient six feet from the television set.
Disappointed that he wasn't home, she decided to pass the time proving she could be a good wife. Emptying the sink, she filled it with sudsy water and up to her dimpled elbows in soap suds, washed and dried the dishes.
Six o'clock and no Phil. Seven o'clock. When the evening network news wished her a good evening, she grew impatient. Where was Phil? Having a drink with a friend maybe?
A twinge of anger and resentment started percolating in her veins, until she reminded herself she was a trespasser. After eight o'clock she grew tired. The first day of school had been utter hell, once the curtains of honesty parted. A quick nap would . help draw her out of this self-pitying temperament.
Black cunt's so hot to fuck, I can smell her wet panties! thought Phil wrapping his arm around Sharon's shoulders, with the night's cloying heat making their flesh-on-flesh contact clammy and intimate. Why the hell not? he asked himself, Carrie's wasn't speaking to him and anyway, he hadn't been to bed with a black girl since he was fourteen when three of them paid an eighteen year-old five bucks for a roll in the grass. God, it had been on a cicada chirping night like this one, smelling of blossoming magnolias.
"Up these steps and to the right... " he stammered, zigzagging, giggling and brushing against the rough stucco wall of the apartment building. At the landing he pulled her close, shoving her against the wall and stroking his hands hotly over her bumps and curves. Her black flesh was satiny to the touch, warm and pliant. He could feel her heart beat as her soft lips returned his French kiss.
At age eighteen Sharon had learned that a black girl from the ghetto could make fast money with one tool �_" sex. An extra fifty here and there helped pay off credit cards that too many clothing sales helped tipped over the limit.
Swaying, he broke the kiss, feeling his penis lurch in the vee of his pants. Before he passed out, he wanted a taste of this sweet ebony meat and, fumbling in his pocket, he found his key chain and slipped the silver one into the lock. Opening the door, he nudged her ahead of him with a quick slap on the buttocks.
"You look like an M & M... that chocolate skin and pink dress," he said. "I want you to melt in my mouth... not in my hand!" he laughed.
Sharon threw back her head and laughed drunkenly, feeling a twitter of excitation ripple through her belly. Ah, how she loved white men! They appreciated a black woman for her sensuality, unlike black brothers who treated her like a cheap nothing. Most of them didn't have class anyway, she thought eyeing hungrily the bulge in Phil's pants.
Collapsing on the sofa, he grabbed her wrist and brought her to her knees on the carpet.
A fast hand slipped under her dress, swiftly shooting toward the mound of soft, warm, damp flesh between her thighs. She was drenched!
"God, you're wet... " he hissed into her ear. "Wet and ready to be fucked... " He yanked at her wrist again. "Get you ass up here!"
Giggling, bending down so that he could see the white strip of her lacy brassiere sticking up from the low cut neck of her cotton, tight fitting dress, she rose to her knees and sat on his lap. Wiggling her curving hips so that her ass cheeks ground against the hard bulge of his erection, she felt the hot rubbery tube stiffen and pulse.
"You're hard... oooohhh, honeeee!"
His hand snuck up under her dress to reach the elastic waist band of her panties. With a firm tug, he ripped them down to her knees. A deep, lusty groan tearing from his throat, his fingers shot into the wet crease of her pussy lips, already moistened from finger fucking her in the fast food drive-inn where he'd taken her for a quick bite.
A deep hum rattled from his chest as he started a slow teasing rhythm in the fleshy, moist slit. He could feel the steaming heat of her cunt pressing tightly against his hand and arm.
Her sensitive, moist flesh throbbed gently beneath his moving fingers, sloshing juicily as her black pubic kinks tickled his palm.
"You be one hot white honky! she purred. "You my Dr. Feelgood!"
"You hot bitch!" he panted.
She sighed in answer, and smiled down at him, licking her lips. He felt her well-exercised thighs press against his hand, with a strength developed from using those muscles to the fullest and best use! His free hand moved north to play with the firm mounds of her breasts, pulsing hotly in the palm of his hand. Snuggling in his lap, Sharon pressed her fleshy orbs against his face, rubbing her puffy nipples into hardness against his nose.
"You white boys know how to make a woman feel good!" she complimented "Black boys get so nasty and rough with their sisters."
"Christ, are you going to get it!" He yanked his fingers from the steaming heat of her pussy and nudging her back, stretched her out on the sofa beside him. Squealing like a greased pig, her ebony flesh shivered as he hooked his thumbs in the elastic band of her panties and pulled them down over her silken thighs. Wadding them up, he tossed them across the room and stared hungrily at her naked loins, shimmering darkly in the yellow lamplight.
"Ah, fuck me, babeeee! Christ, I need you inside me!" she wailed, her thick upper lip curled over a set of white teeth.
Hungrily he stared at the throbbing lips of her naked little cunt spread nicely for him and felt his cock jerk in joyful anticipation. A pearl of pre-cum oozed from the tip. Reaching down, he fumbled in his cotton pants for the hot, rubbery tube, sticky in the palm of his hand. The hard, red tip glistened in the light of the living room and the blue veins pulsed wickedly along the length of the hardness.
"Spread them lips, honey... Daddy's comin' home!"
In the bedroom, a thin wall away, Carrie lifted the arm covering her forehead stirring in her sleep. The cool air conditioning blew over the flushed, chiseled cheekbones and, rolling over to her side, she yanked at the corner of her blanket to cover herself. Flitting dreams streamed in and out of consciousness with a will of their own. Alien faces, dark and menacing, zoomed in and out of her mind's eye like a bad Excederin dream.
It was the first night of her arrival in Atlanta... back in her new apartment. Phil was with her, trying to make love to her, cajoling her, pleading with her. Loneliness, like a pregnant cloud, distorted reason, and the need for a warm body... wrapping his protective arms around her, holding her close, cuddling her. Abruptly, the spell was broken. Carrie's eyelids fluttered in the stages of alertness. She blinked up at the dark ceiling, noticing a stream of light streaking the bedroom carpet under the door left ajar.
Carrie sleepily struggled up onto her elbows. Someone was in the living room; their voices were unmistakably clear. No, she hadn't left the television set on. Lewd, wet slapping sounds of naked flesh against naked flesh startled her out of her dreamy state.
Who could it be? The hallway... the noise must be coming from the hallway, she decided, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and lifting from the squeaking mattress.
Hesitantly, Carrie tiptoed to the door. The sounds grew in lascivious intensity with each step forward. Then, her hands flew in her mouth and a sob died in her throat.
There, stretched out on the sofa, naked and shimmering in the yellow lamplight, her ebony thighs spread wide... with her fiancee kneeling between her legs, his brown head bent low over her convulsively trembling body. Carrie gasped, thought she might be sick. The girl's legs were trembling convulsively, her limbs jerking spasmodically. Her ebony features, shined with perspiration shone like a fertility goddess. Her eyes were tightly clenched shut and her tongue peeked out between her thick, succulent lips. Squeals of lustful delight tore from her chest, punctuated with louder cries. Carrie's fiance, slaving between her trembling legs, was running his tongue up and down her cuntal slit, sucking up the juices dribbling from the pink flesh that pulsed and throbbed between Sharon's thighs.
A hot dizziness overwhelmed her and Carrie stepped back into the shadow of the door to lean against the wall for support. The x-rated scene she was watching was sick, perverted... yet, hypnotized, she watched oogle-eyed and dry mouthed as her fiancee slobbered over another woman's genitals. A black woman's genitals!
Carrie squinted around the door The girl's dark features were finely chiseled, her body a swelling wealth of perfection. She gawked at the lush nakedness spread out on the sofa.
Her kinky black hair haloed her head as the tip of her tongue parted her succulent lips and she moaned in the throes of orgasm.
"Ohhhhh... God... babeeee!" she hissed. Now Phil's tongue was flicking tauntingly at the oily little nub of her clitoris swelling in the black forest of pubic curls. Spasmodically, like an epileptic, she jerked as the electric contact of his hot tongue on her genitals made sizzling contact! Her ebony legs were clamped tightly around Phil's bobbing head. Down into the sofa her hips and buttocks ground in lewd, gyrating circles, as she mashed her cunt into his juice-smeared face.
"Mmmmm... aaaahhhg!" Groans of bestial pleasure bubbled from between her tightly clenched teeth.
Horrified, mesmerized and glued to the floor, Carrie stared as Sharon gyrated and twisted in time to the sucking of her steaming genitals while his lips crawled up her nakedly squirming belly, pausing to pay homage to the jewel of her navel. Sharon was begging for him to ram it into the tight juiciness of her cunt, but instead he taunted her, sliding slowly all the way up her sweat sheened nakedness to straddle her bouncing, swollen breasts.
Carrie watched in mesmeric horror the bulges of dark flesh ooze out under the cheeks of her fiance's buttocks as he sank down on them, lewdly resting the sac of his swollen testicles on the girl's heaving chest. The rubbery tube of his veiny cock jutted out from the hairy nest of his groin, the naked, seeping tip a tongue lick away from Sharon's gaping mouth.
With one hand he reached back behind and shoved an outstretched finger up between the girl's shivering, widespread thighs, finger fucking her juicy genitals. The finger ground inside, teasing the sensitive vaginal walls until she could barely catch her breath. A deep groan of surrender bubbled from between her parted lips. Glassy chocolate eyes stared at the seeping tube.
A wicked, diabolical grin of lust parted Phil's lips as he reached down with a free hand and rubbed the blunt head of his lust-thickened cock in slow, taunting circles around her open lips, smearing them with strands of piquant pre-cum. Her red tongue flicked out like an ant eater, licking at the tiny slitted hole in the mushroomed head. She licked at the string of male lubricant and strained forward then, the cords of her neck standing out in bold relief, trying to suck the teasing penis into the hot cavern of her hungry mouth.
But Phil was a game player when it came to women. He liked to direct the set, produce the show and be to provocateur. He kept the piquantly seeping cock tip a tongue lick away from her grasp, letting the hot tip of her pink tongue lick up and down the underside of its semen-soaked ridge. Sharon grunted and strained forward until her neck looked as if it would screw right off. Behind the door, eavesdropping and staring, Carrie felt her breath pant from her lungs in time with the girl's gasping and the taut muscles of her own body worked for the relief that Sharon sought.
"Suck me, you black bitch!" he taunted, snarling between white teeth. He grabbed the girl by her kinky black hair and yanked her head up off the sofa, simultaneously thrusting his knobby cock deep into the hot confines of her throat, stuffing her ovalled lips with his pounding male flesh.
Carrie's eyes crossed. Her breath quickened. Deep in her own constricted throat, she gagged on nausea, just as Sharon was gagging on her fiance's penis. Her eyes watered and widened as Sharon sucked on Carrie's husband-to-be's penis.
Rearing up on his knees and with one hand holding her head by the hair, the other jabbing rapaciously in and out of her seeping cuntal slit, he buffeted her naked body lushness up and down on the squeaking, complaining sofa. Carrie watched in stupefied horror as the girl's thick lips ovalled lusciously to suck on the lust hardened cock boring into her mouth.
Her cheeks hollowed on the outstroke, her eyes watering with lust. Carrie's legs turned to rubber; she leaned against the wall to support herself. Her body felt anesthetized, too shocked to feel the emotional pain.
Wearing a licentious grin, Phil fucked the black woman's mouth and watched in glee as her painfully contorted mouth struggled to lick and absorb all of him. She wriggled her hands free and cupped his ass cheeks, pinching his taut buttocks and running a raspberry polished finger along the slit of his anus. Like a slave to be sold on the block, she sucked to please her master. His coarse pubic hair brushed the tip of her nose and his sperm filled balls resounded in a lewd dance against her chin.
Carrie felt dizzy, her forehead clammy. She sucked in her breath as she plugged her mouth with her fist to keep from screaming aloud. Dear God, it looked as if her own fiance were the Atlanta murderer... the way he was forcing his cock down her throat �_" trying to strangle her! Any flitting feelings of envy were hidden behind a curtain of fear... at this moment.
Growling from deep within his chest, Phil jerked his cock from the black woman's ovalled lips and crushed down onto her ebony, sweat sheened nakedness.
"Now you're gonna find out what it's like to get fucked by a white man!" he warned, grunting while she squeezed him tight to her. The flesh of his buttocks oozed between her black fingers, spread over his fleshy white skin. Phil shoved his hand under her buttocks and hoisted them up so that her wet, naked cunt was a shove away from the thundering tube of his cock rubbing wetly against her cuntal slit. Frantic, maddened with lust and soaked with her own juices, his cock slipped easily between her ticklish kinky, pussy curls and slipped between her soft pink folds into the crying hole of her cunt.
Sharon's glistening body screwed in desperation as with open mouth, she mewled up into his lust contorted features. "Ahhh... nnnggggghhhh... white bastard!" she spat up at him, her eyes glassy with lust.
"Oh, you're tight... tight and hot and wet!" he returned, feeling his cock strike bottom against the spongy tip of her cervix and her buttocks jerked up under him under the thudding impact. The grasping greedy mouth of her pussy sucked his pounding cock as if trying to rip it from his loins. For a minute he feared he might be castrated.
"Ahhhhhh... cummmmminggggg. White bastard!" she spat up at him. "Fuck me haaaarder."
"You bet your sweet, black ass I will!" Phil echoed, hissing between clenched teeth and throwing back his head. "Ah, give it to me... give me all your cunt... you black, cock hungry bitch!" He grabbed her ebony legs and spread them wide as a roasted duckling, angling one of them over the sofa back. Spasming erotic twinges sizzled between them as their orgasms gushed in a hot salty brine of lust!
"Ohhhh... aagggnnnggghhh... " They ground their sweat glistening bodies together, the sound of naked slapping flesh echoing in the empty living room.
A smaller, saddened voice bordering on hysteria, added to the chorus. Carrie never heard herself cry, but feel the pain of deception, she did. Deep and lacerating, knife-like pains jabbed at her heart while elephantine tears poured from her eyes as she watched her fiance's manhood sluice wetly into the genitals of another woman. Thin strings of semen trickled down between Sharon's glistening thighs, across her still trembling buttocks to dribble in sticky pools on the sofa.
Shoes in hand, Carrie tiptoed over the living room carpet, the lusting sounds of lovemaking echoing in her ears as she darted for the door and made her escape.
Scampering down the steps, she heard a door open and a female voice chime into the night: "What's the matter? Come back... you can't go out by yourself... " The landlady, hair in curlers, shook her head, pulled it inside and closed the door. "That man... God knows what rottenness he's up to now. Nice young gal like that wantin' to marry him and he fouls it up. How like a man... " she thought.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sometimes loss of love strengthens one, imparts a feeling of self sufficiency and expectation. That, fortunately, was Carrie Osgood's state of mind for the following seven days of gradually dulling pain. Every time she blinked shut her eyes, she saw the black woman hissing out her lust under Phil's pounding manhood. Manhood... ? the word made her snicker now. Why was it every man seemed to think that the hunk of flesh dangling between his thighs was his badge of manhood and dominance. A cruel, wicked kind of dominance that could only inflict pain.
It took hours of philosophizing and boxes of Kleenex, but ten days later Carrie was back to her virtuous, confident self. At least she hadn't married him, she told herself. He hadn't ruined her life completely. Yet the burn of deception, the sting of bitterness lingered, boiled under the cauldron of love gone bad. These were sour time, but she would withstand it.
Nights were the most painful. Cicadas hissing under the magnolia tree whose sweet, aphrodisiac scent intoxicated her with the need for friendship �_" and something more, much more intimate and enduring. Something built on love, not lust. That, she had seen enough of. Imprinted in her memory was the ugly sight of her fiance's buttocks, hairy and menacing as he straddled the black woman's chest. His mouth, too, lips fleshy and spread, sucking like a starving child on another woman's genitals. Ugly and defiling, burning to her feminine ego.
Compared to the hurt in Phil's abuse, her ghetto students were as easy to endure as a hot fudge sundae! They refused to forgive her for not being black, for being more fortunate than they. Their condescending remarks and racist jibes were acid in her stomach, but nothing compared to the agony of the gut wrenching pain she'd suffered from Phil.
Cederick and his friends Sammie and Stokley, flicked sexual aggressions at her like lint from a suit collar. Women, violence, hatred... was that all these boys knew? To survive this year of teaching she must somehow cut through the hatred and help them to develop the good within them.
Atlanta had become a nationally targeted city of racism. Newspapers were ridden with stories of suspected cults, national network news reported marches in support cities across the country, masses held in honor of the dear. None of it helped abate the fear and undercurrent of treachery that lurked in the streets and turned darkened shadows into suspected murderers. An edginess pervaded the city, making the youth its prime victims.
The threat of violence matured their innocence in a sadly distorted expression reflecting the fear that they might be number twenty-two on the hit list of some demented creature.
They took it out on her, because who else could they blame? Racist notes stuffed in her desk, in her bookbag, reflected their hatred of their blonde-haired school teacher from the north. "White honky... " the called her. "White bitch... whore... "
That they hated her for being white and a Yankee was acceptable, but when they attacked her for being a woman, it hurt. Who this young buck was, she couldn't prove. But suspect, she did. And with reason. Two choices remained: Go to the superintendent or ignore it, in hopes it would burn itself out. She chose the first.
"Sorry, Ms. Osgood," he apologized, staring at her lush body over the rim of his bifocals.
"We have to be extra careful these days. You're a good-looking woman," he grinned lecherously. "Can't blame the boys... "
"Mr. Turner," snapped Carrie. "I have been accused of being a racist, a Yankee and Lord knows what else �_" but don't attack me for being a woman!"
Turning on her heel, skirt cupping the full moons of her buttocks, Carrie stomped out the superintendent's office in a huff. Shouldering her way down the hallway, she charged like a mad bull for Room 102. At four-thirty in the afternoon, she expected to find it empty, the last class had ended at three-thirty.
In the back row sat Stokley, Sammie and Cederick, noses pressed to the book. Carrie's flaring nostrils picked up the scent of deception. These ghetto vigilantes were no book worms.
"What are you doing here, may I ask?" she snapped, slamming her notebook into her bookbag.
No one answered.
"I asked you a question!" Carrie's full upper lip was a taut line of disapproval and anger.
The white of her even white teeth shone between the full succulence of her lipstick glossy lips.
"Mind if I write on the board, Ma'am?" Cederick regarded her with lazy, chocolate eyes that bored into her body, crawled, like tiny ghetto lice prickling at her luscious, white skin.
With swaggering, slender hips, he made his way past her desk to the blackboard and nimbly plucking a hunk of chalk from the tray, scrawled in uneven letters: "Miss Ozgood hates blacks... "
Blood sang in Carrie's ears. Angered beyond reason, she snatched the eraser and dragged it across the board. Spinning around, she spat at him: "You could at least spelled my name right!" Then,, as he turned to head back to his seat: "Will you grow up?"
Cederick stopped in mid-step, turned around and shot her a malicious look that made her freeze to the bone. "Nobody gotta tell me how to be a man...!"
A conspiratorial vibration rattled off the walls of the dingy classroom. The three black boys, men in body and boys in spirit, carefully lifted their eyes from their textbooks to level their dilated, lurking orbs on Carrie Osgood's svelte curves and bumps. She could almost read their minds, feel the twinge of hatred and rejection shining in their eyes. A sinister snicker chimed between the three of them. They were waiting; but waiting for what, she wondered frantically.
Outside in the hallway an occasional laugh and slam of a locker door and called out farewell cut the silence. She heard the janitor whistling a tune from the top forty disco chart as he pushed his broom down the hallway, slicking up gum wrappers and cigarette butts. To stay and monitor, or go home �_" that was the question. That they were waiting, like guerilla soldiers in the ghetto jungle, was obvious. Certainly they wouldn't do anything.
Violence belonged in the streets, not in the classroom.
Visions of Cederick jumping on the car hood, yanking at the zipper of his pants and hauling out the black girth of his young, virile penis, shot to mind. Self-assurance melted for a second, freezing into fear. Quickly she gathered up her book bag and handbag.
"I'm going home," she announced sternly. "The janitor will lock the door after you."
Halfway to the door, her head flew around.
A desk was pushed to the side, knocking into the wall. A stampede of feet, hurried footsteps... and Cederick leapt over a desk, reaching the door before her hand could shoot for the doorknob.
He stood between- Carrie and the door, barring her exit. "You ain't goin' home yit, teach...
not with pupils in the classroom studyin'... that be against school policy."
"Don't try to play vigilante with me, Cederick," she flared, cheeks burning with fear and rage. "I... I have an appointment... now if you'll please... "
"Please... you hear that, boys? She be sayin' please to us!"
A chorus of laughter stung her ears. She tried to shrug off the feeling, but the sneering curl of Cederick's lips aborted it. They were harassing her, she told herself, kid's fun.
"Let me out of this room, Cederick, before I call the janitor!"
He snickered down at her, his black, panther-like body rippling with pent-up emotion that spelled out l-u-s-t in his chocolate, smouldering eyes. A quiver crept up Carrie's spine.
"Yeah, teach... " Sammie and Stokley were behind her, closing in on her, surrounding her with hot, black male flesh on all sides.
Someone stroked black fingers through her baby fine blonde tresses. "Never seen such white hair on a bitch before," Sokley commented in a thick voice. "Nice and soft like a baby's ass... "
"Nice and soft as my black prick... " hissed Sammie, the shorter of the three vigilantes.
"Yeah... jus' for comparison sakes... A""- he hissed.
They had wanted her alone, had plotted to keep her there by their treachery... just as they had surrounded Phil's car and embarrassed her to the core of her being. A repeat performance she couldn't live through.
Stokley held her by the wrist, with Cederick blocking her exit. Sammie, fumbling with his pants zipper, yanked it down with strong, black fingers. The metallic whine of his zipper made Carrie freeze. Her cheeks burned and her ears buzzed.
"Take a look a' this, Miz Osgood," he commanded in a thick voice.
Carried fear widened eyes lowered inch by scalding inch down over the rippling black chest hugged tight, showing off bulging pectorals under a cotton T-shirt stained with sweat. She could smell his lust, it flared in her nostrils. She recoiled in panic, dumbstruck by the long, thick black girth of his young male penis, throbbing in half-erection. He pumped it in his black fist, forcing a pearl of pre-cum from the mushroomed tip.
"Ain' a guy in this classroom wouldn' give his left nut to shove his prick in your white cunt, teach... if you be real lucky, maybe you git 'em all at once!"
Hot blasts of breath smelling of stale cigarettes bathed Carrie's flushed cheeks. She stared in disbelief at the naked black tube. Long and hard and definitely virile �_" for a fourteen year-old! The tiny eye at the tip oozed cream as he jerked the loose foreskin up and down over the tip. He grinned up at her in victory and lust.
The full impact of her capture slowly registered in her mind. Elbowing against Stokley's iron tight grip, she tried to twist out of his grasp. A desperate sob tore from her throat, sounding like a small, frightened child being shaken aware from a nightmare. Only Carrie's nightmare was real and definitely three-dimensional.
"Ain' no white teacher gonna tell us we ain' no good... tellin' us how to live and love white folks!" snarled Cederick, "Time you get a little respect for us. Write letters to congressman, that's what you thinks gonna make life good for us... well, let me tell you somethin', bitch... we's jus' real tired of writin' and killin' and listenin' to white folks tell us what be good for us!"
"Ah, shuddup, Ced... " blasted Stokley. "We don't got all night... b'fore the janitor comes back... but he gonna be so loaded from smokin' that joint we gib him, he ain' gonna hear no honky bitch cryin' for help!"
Stokley tried to hold the feisty, wriggling teacher with one hand while he fumbled at the neck of her dress with the other black hand. A sickening surge of revulsion and fear awakened in the pit of her stomach when Carrie came to the grim realization that this was no kids game. They would kill her, given the chance... hated her for being white and a woman. She had to get out of their clasp!
"Let me go! Let me go!" she yelped, fighting against their superior strength "You can't get away with this, let me promise you that! Just because you're men you think you can �_" oh, you're hurting me!"
A scuffle ensued. "Hey, grab 'er, Stokley! Sammie, git your hand off yer prick and stop her!" yelped Cederick.
Sammie, the shortest of the three, with the highest Afro, tore off his sweat-stained shirt and grabbed her arm with his free hand. The other remained obdurately on his penis.
"Please... Please .." she sobbed in hysteria as Sammie's hand moved to grasp one swollen breast pressing tightly against her cotton dress. His ragged fingernails dug into the soft puffiness of her nipple and she threw back her head and cried in pain. It felt as if he were trying to pull her nipple off! When she stilled her crying, she stared him in the eye: "You'll go to jail for this!" Carrie's soft features hardened in a last ditch effort at survival.
She wanted to believe, needed to believe at that moment, that she could scare them into letting her go.
It was not to be.
Grinning lecherously, Sammie stared her coldly in the eye. He snickered, his black, sweat sheened face diabolical as the devil himself. "You think that scares me? Shit, I been stabbed in the streets before!"
Carrie's blonde head fell forward as they held her by the arms, by iron wrists, digging into her tender white flesh. A fear, hot and acid, shot through her trembling body, sensing the hatred emanating from their youthful, once innocent faces.
Had they ever been innocent? she wondered in a flash of understanding. Or were some people born in fear, as some were born in luxury. "Let me go home and we'll forget about this," she promised, slowly lifting her head to direct a blue eyed stare into Cederick's cold, menacing eyes.
"Forget? Huh?" Stokley sneered.
"B'sides, we gonna have us a nice juicy party... like the one we had on yer old man's car hood!" warned Cederick.
"No... no____" She fought and lost. Shaking with anger, her body turned to rubber, the terrified school teacher threw back her head and started to scream. A salty black hand clamped over her parted lips and her cries died in her throat.
"Ah... nice tits... real nice tits, teach... " Stokley's hand shot out to cup one fully rounded breast. Frozen, the intent of his provocative act branded in her mind, she stared up into his wild eyes. Slowly her eyes descended to watch his warm hand rub in full circles the wealth of her womanly flesh. Mesmerizing, hypnotizing, her eyes refused to budge.
Cederick wiped his mouth on his sleeve and rubbed his hands together, as if getting to arm wrestle. The were taunting her with aggressive movements, obscene gestures and slurred insults. They wanted a fight; that was clear.
Frantically, Carrie's eyes swept from one dark face to the next as if madly searching for one kind smile, anything to indicate they were not as serious as they seemed to be. To stand here, a willing victim, was not her means of survival!
"Git that dress off and let's see them tits up real close, teach... " hissed one.
"Yeah, just like you don' in the car... sweet, white tits... milky and hard... "
Carrie felt faint. No. Her mind raged. "You... you can't mean that... no... I can't... I won't!"
she panted.
A hand shot across her face and foul breath bathed her burning cheek. "Don't you scream, bitch... or your face's gonna be in ribbons!" warned Stokley.
There sounded a rustle of clothing, breath snorting from nostrils, and Carrie knew she was a helpless captive. The school building was empty at this time of day. Jason would be in the gym practicing with his basketball team, too far away to hear her screams. They had bribed the janitor with drugs... and the superintendent had a reputation of leaving the building early on Fridays. This was it. She swayed, dizzy with fear and revulsion.
"Seems the lady can' undress 'erself," sneered Cedrick, moving a desk to block the door so that he would join the fun and rape. She felt a warm hand at the throat of her dress, felt fingers working at the buttons of her bodice and shivered, remembering she had been wearing this same dress the day... Dear God, she couldn't think about it!
"No... no... no... " she whimpered, weakly shaking her head, blonde hair curtaining her flushed cheeks, scorched in humiliation. She heard them step out of their pants, could smell the sweat, sweet and manly of their nudity. Hot hands worked at the hems of their t-shirts and shoe laces while someone held her arms behind her back.
RAPE. The words were printed indelibly in her brain, seeping through the walls of her weakened libido. The worst crime afflicted upon women... at the hands of three black boys intent on humiliating her, robbing her of every morsel of her femininity, savoring their masculine dominance over her. If she fought, they might use a knife on her. Fear and misery trembled through her body until, weakened, she floated on a numbing cloud of terror. Fate and resignation to its consequences, devoid of hope.
"Git outta them clothes," one of them hissed.
"And... and then?" she stammered, raising watery blue eyes searching for a morsel of pity.
"You're stronger than me," she sobbed. "Just don't kill me... just don't kill me!" This hell had to end sometime. Once they spewed their dark seed into her, it would be over. She must live for that moment.
"Git naked,.!" came the command.
She choked out a feeble "no" and felt the grip tighten on her chafed wrists.
"Peel down and let them juicy tits hang out... " She felt Stokley's hands leave her arms and weakly, she unbuttoned the last two buttons on her dress, noticing the last two had been ripped off by urgent black hands. In a moment, the dress fluttered to the floor. "Your panties too... if they ain' stickin' to your cunt... " snickered someone. Did it matter who?
Swallowing a sob of abject humiliation, she fumbled with the hooks of her lacy brassiere and felt the cool air conditioning play over her creamy shoulders, goosebumped with fear.
Her naked breasts bobbed into view. She heard them suck in their breath, felt their eyes staring at the swollen orbs of her breasts.
"Now the panties... "
Slowly, she hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband of her bikini panties and slid the nylon wisp down over the right swell of her hips, feeling again the cool air play over the fleece of her pubic curls.
"Jesus... without a fight, too," groaned Sammie. "Jesus, she's all wet! Look at her panties!" he hissed. . "Now git down on the floor," barked Cederick through thick lips anxious to feast on her creamy white flesh.
Like a marionette, she sunk to knees too rubbery to support her. She heard someone demand that she spread her legs so they could see her cunt.
Stretching her legs, she lay flat on the floor, staring up into the fluorescent lights glaring down on her pale face. Her warm, white flesh, lushly full breasts was theirs for the asking now. She clenched shut her blue eyes and watched lights sparkle behind her fluttering eyelids as she awaited the first raping touch. Her abdomen rippled with shock and fear and inside, bubbled with revulsion. Terrifying, wretched and diabolical they were, staring down at her nakedly exposed body. Visions of sitting in the car stripping for them, showing off her full breasts came into stark clarity... and with it, Phil's damning words: "YOU LOVED SHOWING OFF YOUR TITS TO THOSE BLACK BOYS! ADMIT IT, YOU BITCH!" And in crept the feel of her father stripping down the covers on cold winter nights to press his drunken body next to hers... warm, sweaty and masculinely dominant!
"Stretch them legs... I wanna see your asshole!" barked Sammie.
Sizzling in mortification, Carrie blinked open her eyes to stare down at the blonde fleecy nest of her womanhood. She sucked in her breath, sharply. Her vaginal lips were swollen, dewed with secretions of expectation. The air conditioning made them tingle and she closed her eyes again and drew a deep, calming breath. Struggling to focus on a single thought, anything to keep herself from going hysterically insane, she vowed she would not be permanently scarred by this display of youthful vengeance.
Sammie was the first to claim his dominance. He pumped his cock, eyes riveted on the forest between her thighs. Between her thighs. Between his strong ones, his veiny penis throbbed. "Watch this, white bitch!" he spat.
Carrie's glassy eyes opened to focus on the black girth of his meaty cock, swollen with pints of bloody lust. For a fourteen year-old boy, he was mature. Very mature. As big as Phil, even. Judging from his actions, she knew she wasn't his first woman. For the sake of cruelty, he was going to rape her in front of his buddies.
"PHIL! Dear God... " Where are you?
CHAPTER SIX
"Listen... " hissed Phil, trembling with rage standing outside his landlady's door. The humidity was crucifying. He hooked a finger in the collar of his shirt and tore off his tie.
"You've got no right letting anybody into my apartment without my approval!" Working at the buttons of his starched shirt, he yanked open the flap.
The glib-faced landlady stared at the virile, hairy chest, her eyes squinting upwards into his tanned face. Don't you undress in front of me!" she snarled with all the sourness of her divorced fifty-two years. "Engaged to a nice girl like that... and bringing home filth!" she spat, clasping at the dipping neckline of her house dress missing a top button. "Poor thing ran out of there like somebody was chasin' her with a knife! And you're in there, doing God knows what with black street trash!"
Phil was seeing red. "You dried up whore... you got no right calling anybody street trash!"
"Get out! Get out of this apartment before I call the cops on you," she retaliated, slamming the door in his face. A thunder of footsteps and a screech of tires, and he was gone. The landlady settled down on the sofa trying to calm herself with absorption in an afternoon soap opera.
Men... cruel bastards! Animal that he was, she had to admit there was something sexy about Phil Carmichael. Dominant, demanding. A shiver of longing quivered up her too long neglected thighs, flitting x-rated movies of what her renter had done to the black girl while his fiancee watched in horror surged through her brain.
Phil hammered the steering wheel with his balled up fist. Damn bitch! Fucking dried up whore! Letting Carrie into my apartment! Dragging thick fingers through his hair, he plotted his next course of action. Christ, and I was sucking her cunt too... licking her thighs and making her cum... and then shoving my cock in her... with Carrie watching! A trickle sadism raced through him at the thought of his puritanical girl friend watching in horror.
A sickening feeling balled up in the pit of his stomach. Jesus and he loved the bitch, too...
God how he loved her! He'd blown it, but good!
The afternoon sun spread a suffocating blanket of humid air over the city. Phil drove absentmindedly, the car window open, blasts of hot air playing over the hairiness of his chest, tickling him like the soft whispers of a woman's kiss. He slumped in the seat and turned on the radio. Atlanta news crackled over the speaker. He turned it off, disgruntled.
How to approach her was the question. What to say? Hell, he'd never been clever with words. Actions were his forte, God, were they! He snickered bitterly to himself. But a woman always wanted to hear an "I'm sorry... I was a fucking bastard and I promise I'll be a good boy!" That and, "No, she was lousy in bed... you're the sexiest woman, you're the only one who can please me... " Games... all it is is games... he thought to himself, discovering that subconsciously he had driven in the direction of Washington High School.
Maybe if he parked across the street and waited until she came through the school door, he could get a look at her expression and decipher her mood.
Cold, he decided. Frigid as an iceberg. As he pulled his car up to the curb and pulled down the visor to retrieve the crinkly cigarette pack, his eyes feasting lazily on the front door where a couple of black boys sat smoking cigarettes and snapping fingers to a disco tune from a portable radio, it struck him that inside that uptight, unscrewed brain, there lurked a woman capable of masochism. Funny, he'd never considered that about her before. Frigid women were always the kinky ones, the hot ones underneath. All it took was pressing the right button and boom! Instant transformation. From Florence Nightingale to Marilyn Monroe. Stretching out his legs, he pulled hard and long on his cigarette. As the afternoon sun played over the yellow car hood, his mind traveled back to the incident in the ghetto. The look on her face... God, he'd ever forget! Nimble fingers working at the hook of her brassiere, stripping it off to let those black bastards' eyes take in the milky firmness of her body. Hell, he'd watched her nipples get hard, saw goosebumps polka-dot her flesh from all those hot stud eyes eating her up!
A gut wrenching knot tied in his stomach. Maybe she's into black men... maybe she's one of them dingy chicks who gets off on hot black dicks... makes her feel feminine, sexy.
Sweat dampened his armpits, beaded his forehead. Gnashing out his cigarette, Phil flicked his wrist to check his watch. Four-thirty. The yellow Toyota pulled away from the curb, nosing back to the residential section of town.
The soft whirl of the air conditioning and hot, panting breaths filled Room 102 at George Washington High School. Carrie's nostrils flared from the musky scent of naked genitals surrounding her. Dizzily, she gazed up at the black boy masturbating himself shamelessly, squeezing pearls of pre-cum from the tip of his veiny cock. She clenched shut her blue eyes while visions of Cederick on the car hood pumping at his penis until he spewed his sperm on to the windshield refused to budge. Subconsciously, she licked her lips.
Warm, creamy, hot and virile... the cum shot onto the glass, a tongue's lick away. Manly and dominant, she watched it stream down the glass in white globules.
Hearing someone drop to the floor, Carrie's eyes flew open. Sammie's black body, shimmering with lusty sweat knelt beside her. His hand was on his cock "Take my black dick in your mouth, teach... suck me... suck me off!"
A cry of disgust tore from Carrie's throat. Never! She could never let a man put his... his dirty thing in her mouth! She blinked dumbfounded, up at him, as if she hadn't heard his command. Weakly, she shook her blonde head and stared up into his cruel dark eyes with her soft blue ones. She could never let a man put his penis in her mouth or wrap her tongue around his sperm loaded thing____ Leaning over, Sammie's black penis, pounding with lust, was a tongue lick away. The slimy tip dragged over the tip of her perky nose. She stiffened, corpselike before letting out a tragic cry and reached up to push away his smooth testicles, taut and virile between his ebony thighs glistening with sweat streaked sinew. "Not that... no----" Tears gushed from her blue eyes, streaming down her flushed cheeks to soak her honey blonde hair at the temples. "Rape me... and I know you will... but never ask me to do that!"
"Hey... a little black cum on your tonsils ain' gonna kill ya, Miz Osgood," he taunted. "Now be a good girl and open your mouth... before I tear your hair out by the roots!" he snarled, "Yeah... we thought the teach liked us blacks so much... " taunted someone from above.
Resist, she did. But not for long. He wrapped his black hands in her blonde hair, forcing her head up off the floor until his wagging penis dragged over the hotness of her cheeks.
She turned her head to the side, but a hand at her throat was threat enough to obey his command.
Her nostrils flared from the salty smell of him, musky, animalish! Her dilated pupils stared at the pulsating cock head glistening with its thin streaks of lubrication. Greased and shiny black it was, like a sick symbol of everything in her life. Phil... this school... the hatred of the city. Their fear was her fear now. Like a monster, it spread contagiously, and now she, Carrie Osgood, was its target, its victim.
Willfully, she struggled to blank out some of the cold terror of this rape. She was a meek slave to these sadistic black high school boys. Three of them, naked and panting to have her! She had to obey their commands, or suffer the consequences.
"Ohhhh... God," she groaned in horror, revulsion knotting her stomach.
She winced. Sammie's strong fingers yanked at her hair as if he were trying to scalp her.
Slavishly, she bent her head forward, revulsion gagging in her throat. Tentatively, she opened her fear parched lips to make the first searing contact with the salty slime of his ebony cock. The pungent, heady taste of male secretions lingered on her tongue. She paused, waiting to be sick to her stomach. Strange... the taste wasn't disgusting at all!
Manly, pungent!
Hard, rubbery, hot and oh so resilient was his black cock. Her lips tingled with a strange warmth mixed with desire. Again, still fearful and hesitant, she stuck out her velvety tongue to lick wetly along the length of it.
"That ain' sucking____" he grumbled. "I wanna be licked... up and down... on the bottom... yeah, babeeee... " hissed Sammie, throwing back his bushy head of hair as his teacher's soft, wet tongue stroked on the veiny underside from the kinky black bush of his pubic curls to the throbbing, mushroomed head, washing him, bathing him, caressing him with a desire she didn't know she had!
Slowly parting her lips, she opened her mouth and slid her lips over the pulsating cock head. Drops of fluid oozed from the tip, bathing her tonsils with its manly brine. She would have thought the taste of a man's penis would be nauseating and vile... but it was almost exciting! Trickles of latent excitation rippled up her spine. She tried to hate herself for giving into their demands, for playing whore for them. I'm being forced, she reminded herself. If I don't play their game, they'll kill me!
Just as Phil would have beaten her to a pulp for not having sex with him. Slivers of justification lessened the humiliation and tempered doubt. With a hint of enthusiasm, she began to bob her head up and down along his cock, until the mushroomed tip banged against the back of her throat.
The virile taste of him sparked a burning craving to suck him until she felt his cum gush into her gullet. She trailed her tongue over the veiny shaft, while he slowly undulated his slender hips, sliding his black cock in and out of her ovalled mouth, his hands still wrapped in her blonde, silken hair.
The sight of Carrie's naked body slavering over Sammie's black, glistening body was enough to make Stokley and Cederick cum in their fists! Stokley leaned against the wall, pumping at his own blood heavy penis, watching Miss Osgood's tight lips slip up and down the girth of Sammie's ramming cock. Kneeling down now, Stokley could see threads of saliva and Sammie's pre-cum dribbling from the stretched corner of her stuffed mouth.
Tears streamed from her eyes and she sniffled as she slaved over his cock, deep throated groans bubbling from her chest like the death rattle of virginity!
Sammie grinned in victory as he fucked his teacher with all the pent up lust and distrust of fourteen years of living in the ghetto. Her face was contorted in lust. Now she lifted her hand from his throbbing testicles to slipped it behind his flexing buttocks to pull him into her! Ah... Christ! He threw back his head. The blood seethed in his veins, his hot cum boiling in his thundering balls! He sunk his cock so deep down her throat he swore he'd given her a tonsillectomy! His pubic curls scraped against her perky nose and his balls slapped punishingly against her dimpled chin. "Damn... shit-ttt____" he hissed.
"Mmmmmff... mmmmmffff... " Urgent moans tore from her chest now and that did it for Sammie! His hot black penis spewed a flood of salty cum deep down her throat. The hot globules of lust streamed from the dilated eye of his cock head like milk from a cow's udder. Carrie swallowed to keep from choking. The last dribble of juice spurted in a thin string of slippery white cum that overflowed her sticky lips to drip across her chin.
"Gawd... " she moaned, as her head thudded to the hardwood classroom floor. Trickles of ecstasy tickled through her lusty body, goosebumped and sizzling with frustration. Visions of Phil's lover slaving over his penis while he bored down her throat fled to mind. Now she could well understand the girl's eagerness!
Sammie rolled to the side. "Not bad for a white bitch," he grunted, wiping the sweat from his black brow.
Carried panted in hard gasps, her swollen, shivering breasts rising and falling, her nipples hardened into diamond chips. Shame rippled through her. No matter how she tried to rationalize it away, she had to admit she had enjoyed sucking this black boy's penis, enjoyed the thrill of dominating his lust and satisfying him! A bit of pride shoved aside the shame.
Stokley stared down at the blonde haired teacher staring up at him with wild blue eyes.
"My turn... " he choked, staring back at her shivering naked bumps and curves with jungle-like hunger.
They were going to take her one by one, abuse her body and stain her soul, and there was nothing she could do to stop them! Carrie's balled up fist flew to her mouth. Her blue eyes turned pleadingly up to Stokley. They ate up her body with their eyes, their stares like lice crawling over her naked, vulnerable flesh. Yet she knew she must submit to their nasty, hate inspired demands. To this point it had been nonviolent. No knives, no guns or ropes. She justified her responses, but knew her sexuality was raging in her belly. God, help her, but she was theirs!
Carrie moaned in fatalistic surrender as Stokley, fell to his knees beside her. Squirming backwards on her elbows, Carrie blinked up at his dark, menacing face with cloudy blue eyes shining under spidery eyelashes. Lust shone like Christmas tree lights in his moody dark eyes. His long, black penis jerked from the nest of his lean loins. For a long, terrifying moment, Carrie cowered, biting at her fist, tears squeezing from the corners of her glassy blue eyes. He looked so mean, so virile, so bent on destroying her. She closed her eyes, wishing she were dead. He hovered over her, his manly, sweet sweat flaring in her nostrils. A rough, ghetto toughened hand ran over her goosebumped, cringing flesh. She stared down at the black hand squeezing her milky white breast. The contrast was so hellishly stark, so foreign. A trickle of the forbidden percolated in her loins.
An electric shock snapped through her goosebumped flesh, like a million acupuncture needles, sending thrills of wicked titillation to play along the softness of her inner thighs.
Unconsciously, her buttocks ground into the hard classroom floor. Now his fingers played over the soft bowl of her belly, snaking upwards to tweak at her nipples.
Stokley let out a manly groan and shoved her thighs wide apart with the sweaty palms of his black hands, then on his knees, crawled between them. The black girth of his cock, glistening with pre-cum oozing from the tip rubbed against her inner thigh. Carrie closed her eyes tightly and an uncontrollable shiver of expectation goosebumped her thighs.
Shame so hot it scorched her soul made her sniffle when she realized he could see her excitation. In the wet nest of her thighs, she felt her pussy seeping with lust! Her eyes locked greedily on his young black penis jutting out from a taut belly rippling with muscles as he hovered domineeringly over her between her wide stretched thighs.
"Wrap them legs around my back," he commanded. Sniffling in horror of her own weakness, Carrie kicked out her legs, heels curling around his strong buttocks pulling him in toward her body. Grabbing his cock in one meaty paw, he pumped it a few times and rammed it for the hairy target of her cunt. He smashed into her with the pent up lust of a fourteen year-old. No love intended this time! Between his hirsute thighs, his young balls smacked punishingly against her upturned buttocks. The black rubber tube slipped between the ragged, pink lips of her cunt with a lewd, wet sound that echoed off the classroom walls. It burrowed into her like a rutting animal, banging into the tip of her spongy cervix with jackhammering speed!
"Ahhhhnnnnggghhhh... " she whimpered, turning her head to the side, unable to stare him in the eye. Shame and lust were one, feeding the other. She needed him deeper inside, needed him to hurt her, to shame her for her lust!
With a deep grunt, Stokley rammed his tongue between her laxly parted lips to suck on her warm saliva. The taste of saliva mixed with Sammie's cum fed his tastebuds. As he struggled for breath, she slipped her tongue between his pearly white teeth and sucked on his tongue that tasted of stale cigarettes. Deep within the heart of her womanhood...
Carrie felt her first orgasm build... slowly, intensely. A heavy congestion weighted her belly as the tide waters of her cum amassed in the wake of a sexual storm!
Bucking like a horse against him, she felt his boring cock harden. He reared back, throwing back his head, jaw slack, eyes glassy... and he spurt his white hot cum deep into her ravished womb. In wild frustration, the school teacher moaned out her disappointment.
"No... no... Don't cum! Not yet!" He did. One grind and hump away from relief, he'd left her stranded. She strained against his deflating young cock, whimpering, trying to screw herself on his spent hardness. No use, he was flat as a punctured tire. She wriggled and squirmed, tightened her cuntal muscles and mewled up at him in desperation.
Cederick grabbed his buddy by the shoulder and hauled him backwards off Miss Osgood's shivering body. The expression on her face was wanton and urgent. "Don't worry, teach...
Cederick at your command!"
Naked flesh slapped against naked flesh as Cederick climbed atop her squirming body, straddling her heaving belly. Her forehead was clammy with the need for relief. Honey tendrils clung to her temples and her eyes were glassy. The soft whiteness of her skin brushed against his dark testicles hanging between his legs sent a pint of blood to bloat his cock. Leering down at her submissively spread body, he spit on his hands like a cowboy before, he rides the bull, and he moved forward and lay his hot, rubbery penis in the wide valley of her breasts, cupping their melonous weight in his hands before pushing them together to trap his black cock between.
"Ever since I seen them white tits through the car window, I been waitin' to fuck 'em," he muttered thickly, his lips, succulently thick, pulled in a tight line of lechery across even white teeth.
"No... I don't want it there... I____" she sobbed in shame. Glaring wild eyed down at her milky breasts, pushed together around his thick, pounding black penis, Carrie swallowed tightly.
Faster and faster, Cederick slid his dark cock between her soft, milky breasts, while saliva drooled from his thick lips to moisten the warm cleavage and smooth the passage for his cock. Pumping and humping, he bucked until he was red in the face.
Below, in the seeping hole of her crying cunt, Carrie's ragged lips pleaded for the touch of his cock. Friction... she needed friction! The mouth of her vagina tickled and burned for the need of his manliness. " Cederick snickered lewdly, eyes glinting with sadism as he watched his naked white teacher writhing wormishly on the hardwood floor. They had her, the white cunt... and she would do anything they asked. Hell, she was begging for his black cock! It was a dream come true, fucking a white woman, and his teacher on top of it!
"Hey, give the little lady a break!" chortled Sammie. "Shove it up her cunt!"
Carrie's eyes were two pools of blazing desire. Satisfaction was all she wanted, not love.
Deep inside she needed to be punished... punished for enjoying the feel of her father's drunken body being pressed against her shivering, youthful flesh... punished for cheating on her mother! And no one could punish her better than a fourteen year-old black boy intent on lowering her to gutter morality!
Cederick slipped his black, panther-like body down over her belly until his seeping cock head was drubbing at the wet starving mouth of her cunt. With a grunt of relief, Carrie locked her legs around his neck, jerking her hips upward, grinding her vagina against his body, reveling in the feel of sweaty naked flesh rubbing against naked flesh. A sudden groan tore from her throat as he grabbed her wriggling ankles and thrust them up until her knees smashed against her breasts. Rearing back, Cederick rammed his fourteen year-old black penis deep into her cum filled pussy, with a hip smashing thrust.
"Annnnggghhhh... " gurgled Carrie, feeling him drive his penis along the full length of her tightly clenched cunt, banging into her cervix. "Ngggghhhh!"
The congestion in her belly felt like a bag of cement ready to be poured. He rammed into her with wicked fury, and her body heaved forward with each thrust. Deep inside in a dark corner of her psyche, Carrie Osgood realized she had wanted Phil to make love to her like this �_" violently, with vengeance and lust.
Cederick's bushy Afro hair bounced as he grunted and slaved over her creamy white body. Like chocolate and vanilla... he thought, glancing down to watch the black girth slip into the ragged pink lips. Wet, sluicing bounced off the walls of the empty classroom. A stream of yellow sunlight splattered the floor in rectangles and the dull roar of afternoon traffic filtered in, creating a lazy backdrop to the hissing, animalish grunts and groans of rape.
"You like black cock, don' ya, baby?" he taunted.
Carried twisted her head to the side, strands of honey hair clinging to her sweat sheened forehead.
"Don' ya?" He reared back and thundered into her with a pelvic smashing thrust that lurched her half a foot upward on the hardwood floor. "Talk to me, bitch... tell me you love it!"
"Nnnnggghhh... " Carried gasped for breath. The force of his hammering thrusts, drilling into her tight pussy, were electrifyingly painful and pleasant at the same time. Carrie threw her head back and let out a scream, then kicked her legs, trying to force him back out.
Lord, he was too big for her! He would certainly tear something if he kept hammering into her like this!
Grinning victoriously, Cederick levered his hands into a push up position as he slid his penis another excruciating inch into her tightly clasping wetly seeping hole.
Then the brutal penetration eased with a shattering jolt as Cederick thumped heavily against her white, upturned buttocks, his sperm-heavy young testicles smacking against her anus. For a moment he lay still while her cuntal walls adjusted, before starting a slow, grinding motion with his hips, sawing in and out of her pussy. His penis struck the tip of her cervix with bruising force... so hard his penis bent over at the end!
Back and forth their bodies ground and lurched. The others gawked in awe, black eyes shining. "The bitch loves it! She likes gettin' fucked!"
Falling to their knees, Sammie and Stokley toyed with her pliant, white flesh, rubbing her buttocks and fingering teasingly the fleshy, hair-covered pussy lips locked tightly around their friend's pumping penis. Their black hands clawed possessively over every goosebumped inch of her naked white flesh until she though she would jump out of her skin! Someone (did it matter who?) was rubbing the oily nub of her clitoris with the soft pad of his middle finger. The room seemed to have grown a monster with a thousand fingers humiliating her, toying with her body.
Strangely perverse electric sensations tingled and sparked through her body as pleasure-pain seeped along every nerve ending of her body, electrocuting her brain. Her hips moved of their own volition in time to Cederick's stone-hard cock hammering into her, at the black, gouging fingers fighting for domination of her white body. Leering black faces sneered down at her like a nightmare.
"Ohhhhhh... fuck meeee...!" she chanted. The warm slime of oozing cock tips stroked over her goosebumped flesh in answer to her plea. In time to Cederick's fucking into her wildly churning cunt, they left sticky trails of pre-cum to slicken her white skin polka dotted with sweat. Her tiny fists reached out to grab at the two black snaking penis to stroke them in rhythm to the cock fucking up against her cervix.
He came like a geyser... without warning and with a blinding force. His thick, inflamed cock filled up like a water-packed balloon. He grunted a warning, threw back his head and the semen shot deep up inside her contracting cuntal walls, gushing in frothy waves of cock juice. The salty seed shot against the tip of her battered cervix and dribbled down to her cum matted pussy hair to drip between the satiny cleft of her buttocks.
Sated, satisfied, exhausted and spent. That was Miss Osgood, Yankee teacher of George Washington High! Her orgasm hit like a desert sand storm and she screwed her buttocks up against his squirting penis, rubbing her honeyed pubic tendrils against the kinky blackness of his pubic hair. Her polished fingertips dug into his shoulders, leaving red trails as he pulled back and slammed in for one last ceremonial thrust! As he did, sparks splattered before her eyes and their combined orgasmic juices swirled and frothed in the hole of her satiated and forever stretched cunt. She felt her own hotness from the fiery friction of orgasm and she screamed, her legs flailing out to either side of him. Then she went totally numb, as if her whole body had suffered an electric shock.
Cederick's bushy haircut stood out from his head like a proud pagan king. His knees were bruised from rubbing against the hardwood floor, but he didn't care. His heart thundered in his chest like the proud long distance runner. Had he not cum when he did, his body would have burst like a balloon!
Panting, he reared back. "Christ..." he muttered thickly, wiping the sweat from his proud brow. "She be somethin' else!"
Weakly, Carrie turned her head to the side, as she lay shivering with humiliation and dread. Cool wisps of air conditioned breezes wafted over her naked, sweating body, making her shudder with a coldness that penetrated deep within her heart. She closed her eyes tightly, squeezing salty tears down rouged, satin cheeks, listening to them pull on their clothes and make obscene jokes before leaving.
Sammie and Stokley had shuffled out. One remained. Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, Carrie weakly turned her tear stained face to the door. A black face leered down at her, chocolate eyes penetrating her blue ones. He balked, as if preparing to speak.
Words were unimportant: his eyes spoke for him. The message was undecipherable; but no hatred shone in those dark orbs for the first time. The corner of his mouth curled up in a half smile, before pulling the door shut after him.
Carrie lay panting and crying on the floor, listening to the soft shuffle of tennis shoes on the slick hallway floor. Laughter, thick and lusty disappeared into the distance.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Phil never thought she would do it. Bewildered, he rolled down the window and let the warm summer air, so humid you could taste it, streak through his hair. His right arm slipped around her shoulders, drawing her close to him. His soft lips kissed the honey of her hair, the warm tip of his tongue lathing the shell-like rim of her ear.
Out of the corner of one brown eye, he studied her profile, noticing a softness to the finely chiseled curves of her face. Her eyes seemed wider, more full of life, somehow, as if she were trying to take in everything around her instead of blocking it out as was her habit.
Maybe the week alone moping over her treatment of him helped smooth the edges of her temperament, he thought, turning into the parking lot outside of Carrie's apartment house.
At dinner she had stared at him over her fork with hungry eyes �_" like a man watching a woman strut by in a tight, split skirt. She was assaying him, judging his masculinity it seemed. That didn't sit well with a man of Phil Carmichael's ilk. Wearily, he scratched his brain for an answer to this sudden sexual curiosity.
"How's school teaching going?" he asked, trying to keep the subject on her in fear of a sudden Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde transformation, should the subject of the x-rated movie in his apartment rear its ugly head. Struggling to keep the lid on his itchy temperament, he maintained a placid coolness uncharacteristic of his normally bawdy, direct self.
"Fine... " came an answer, breathy and gushing of femininity. Softly her lips parted with an obvious conscious effort and the tip of her tongue trailed down a dribble of red wine on the crystal glass. Her blue eyes were leveled on him as she licked up the droplet.
Phil shivered in his seat. What the hell was she up to? She appeared far too calm, too in control of herself for having taught at the ghetto school where reports of confiscated knives and handguns were common newspaper items relegated to the back page of the Atlanta Sentinel. Worse: She hadn't mentioned Sharon. Phil gulped and choked down his rare steak with a heady drink of wine. Once he got her back to her apartment and got down to the nitty gritty, he would discover the truth of this abrupt change.
Candlelight shimmered over the crystal wine goblets. Carrie stared at her husband-to-be, studied the firm set to his chin, the deep set eyes penetrating and uncharacteristically skittish tonight. With calm, even movements, she lifted the chunks of crabmeat to her mouth and savouring the succulence, parted her lips with the deliberation of a woman about to please her man. The warmth of her tongue tip on the cool wine glass sparked memories, strangely pleasant, of feeling Cederick's tongue slip between her soft lips.
Images and sensations of her father peeling down the coverlet and pressing his drunken, warm body to her youthful one, dissolved. The guilt that had festered, the fear of having cheated her mother out of her husband's affections, lifted like morning fog. The fixation that had haunted her was gone. A nervousness twittered in the pit of her stomach now, like a thousand galloping butterflies flying north.
Carrie shoved aside her seafood salad, barely touched. "I'm full... that was delicious, but I'm really full... "
A pair of bewildered eyes watched her strut about her apartment, the clinging jersey of her knit dress hugging the firm full moons of her buttocks. Phil scratched his head and squinted, slowly shaking his head. She never walked like that before, taking leggy strides to make her ass cheeks wiggle. Christ, she was acting like that black slut, Sharon! Every inch of her flesh seemed to ooze sensuality. Normally she was an iceberg of fear!
Only one way to test a woman, and that was in the bedroom. Carrie had always been a hellish prick tease, but so help him, if this was another preview, only to have the curtain pulled before the first act, she would be damned sorry!
Since the rape two days before, Carrie Osgood had come to understand a few basic truths about the male gender. One, they were the dominant sex; two, she wanted them to be the dominant sex. Subconsciously, she had learned that to propel a man into action showed a womanly strength that evened out the power play between the sexes.
"Let's... ah, go in the bedroom." Phil jerked his head toward the room off the living room, where a streak of yellow lamp light bathed the walls in a sensuous glow. On the night stand was a silver vase with a yellow rose. He took that as an omen. Slipping an arm around her nipped in waist, he guided her to the bed. No fight... so far so good.
When he worked at the zipper of her dress, kissing her neck as he yanked the garment free, she offered no resistance. Working fast, before she changed her fickle mind, he pushed the bodice of her dress down to her elbows and stripped her arms free of it. Down came the straps of her black brassiere, down over the naked creaminess of her shoulders.
His fingers were cool against her warm flesh, and he could hear her heart pound as he stroked, fondled and caressed her naked breasts until her nipples were hardened nubs of desire.
She purred from deep within her chest.
His mouth mashed against hers, his tongue slipping easily between her teeth. Nudging her back on the bed, he lay her down, his hand shooting under her dress to stroke her smooth stockinged thighs. His fingers, like little soldiers, crept along the smooth flesh until they reached the warmth of her pussy mound. Christ, she was steaming down there! So the iceberg was finally melting! Just what caused this sudden thaw, he hadn't time to ponder now.
"Let's strip down these panty hose," he muttered thickly, working his hands up to her waist and hooking his thumbs in the elastic band, yanked them down to her knees. Carrie kicked off her high heels and compliantly lifted her buttocks to allow him the freedom to pull them off her legs. Searching for the oily nub of her clitoris, he touched the magic button with the pad of his cold finger, bringing a mewl of pleasure from her chest. In tiny polishing circles, he rubbed it, bringing it to a hard, throbbing erection �_" like a small, baby cock!
"Mmmmmm... " she groaned" throatily. Relentlessly, he stroked the nub of flesh until her buttocks ground softly in circles into the mattress and up against the palm of his hand. The touch was electrifying, maddening and oh, so wonderful! Carrie's fluttering eyelids opened and her pale blue eyes stared up into his face.
Abruptly, her forehead furrowed. Something was wrong. She glanced about the room with anxious, rabbit-darting eyes. A fluttering of expectation and fear of disappointment too subtle to register in her mishmashed mind, charged through her. Then he called out her name.
"Carrie? Is something wrong?"
Dumbly, she shook her head. Closing her eyes, she lay back, breathing deeply, feeling a moistness in the nest between her thighs He was on top of her then, rubbing the tenting bulge of his penis into the soft bowl of her belly, bruising her pubic bone from the roughness of his gabardine pants. Blanking her mind to all but sensation, she found herself responding, sliding her moist pussy up and down, reveling in the sweet friction.
Reaching under her, he yanked at the jersey dress until it fell to the bedroom carpet.
Shivering beneath him, naked and vulnerable, she sucked in her breath as his soft, warm lips claimed a budding nipple. He sucked, gently, using his front teeth to taunt it into full erection. His hand reached up caress her softly swelling breasts, possessing them, mashing them to her slender ribcage.
His finger felt for the oily nub of her clitoris and worked deliriously. Then it was gone.
Blinking open her glassy eyes, she watched him tear at the buttons of his shirt. The mattress squeaked as he lifted his weight and stripped naked. His nostrils flared from the musky scent of his inflamed genitals, an intoxicating, aphrodisiac! The warm flesh, hard and pounding, rubbed against the soft bowl of her belly, and she felt the warm ooze of pre-cum streak across her belly.
Phil reared back and changed positions until they lay in reverse, with his hot cock dangling before her flushed cheeks. Grunting, he spread his thighs on either side of her head. "Lick me, honey... nice and sweet with that baby tongue."
Every nerve in his muscular body keened for rejection, he shivered as the first babyish lick of her soft, wet tongue teased at the slitted eye of his cock heard. Phil gulped in disbelief and awe.
Carrie's soft fist closed around the blue-veined hunk of flesh throbbing in her warm hand, and slid the foreskin back the way they had done. With a deep groan of acceptance, she shoved it into her mouth like a starving man. The man taste of him piqued her tastebuds.
Kittenishly, she began to suck, using her tongue, swirling it around her hot, rubbery head, jabbing delicately at the tip.
Groaning in ecstasy, Phil buried his lips into Carrie's seeping hole, his warm tongue lashing out and probing at the slit. Up to her throbbing clitoris traveled his moving lips, licking and sucking until Carrie ground her hips up into his face, scraping her pubic curls against his nose.
"Mmmmm... now... " she gushed, confused by a strange lack of satisfaction in his delicate lickings. Again the irksome feeling robbed her of total pleasure, the feeling that something was wrong.
Phil grunted as he felt her hand grab his head with a bruising force, until he nearly suffocated and drowned in her cuntal juices. She gyrated her hips like a maddened nymphomaniac, squirming while mewls of frustration bubbled from her throat. With a raspy groan, she arched her back, thrusting her genitals up into his face, the hot vaginal walls opening and closing in a sucking motion, until he swore she was trying to pull his tongue out by the roots! In answer, he pulled free his tongue, giving himself a chance to catch a vital breath, before licking up through her cuntal slit again. He claimed her clitoris with his warm lips that brushed against the sensitive nub.
"Oh... suck... suck... " Carrie yelped in desperation.
Rattled by her sudden aggressiveness, he raised his head and craned his neck to make certain this was his Carrie. She yanked at his hair as if trying to scalp him, shoving his face back into her steaming cuntal hole. His strong hands shot over the softness of her belly to the firmness of her breasts, cupping them, kneading them like bread dough, torturing the nipples.
"Yessss... " she hissed, feeling him move back down over her, shoving back her legs until they mashed into her nipples, his steely hands pressed behind them. His wild tongue dipped to her naked loins and his mouth sucked as if on a delicate shellfish. Down to her buttoned anus dipped his jabbing tongue, creating maddening sensations to play through her body. "Ohhhh... your cock... " she mewled desperately.
Abruptly, Phil stopped his tongue actions. He craned his head and glowered down into her lust contorted features. For a second he was sure she'd said something about black cock.
No, he dismissed it, snickering to himself at his stupidities.
His hot mouth clamped down on the wetly seeping slit up between her smooth thighs.
Slowly he lowered his strong body until she could wrap her fingers around his blood heavy cock. Peeling back the loose foreskin, she sucked it into her mouth with a vacuuming pressure.
The warm tube slipped easily down her throat, but she kept from gagging. With kittenish strokes, she ran her warm tongue up and down its soft, veiny underside, delighting in her own power. The veins felt wormish against her tongue and the masculine tang of his genitals flared in her nostrils. Gently, adoringly, she cupped his testicles in the soft palm of her hand. In and out of her mouth, slipped his cock in time to his tongue lashing into the open hole of her cunt.
"Mmmmm____" He trapped the nub of her clitoris between his front teeth and nibbled babyishly. Her body started vibrating, shuddering from his wild tonguings. Why, she wondered vaguely, had Cederick, Sammie and Stokley not raped her with their mouths?
Eyelids flickered and behind them flashed visions of their thick, soft lips nibbling at her clitoris and chewing on her pussy lips... like a horse nibbling at a daisy, she thought dimly.
She washed his penis in saliva, lathing it like a mother cat washing its kitten. A thunderbolt of lightning seemed to strike her and she closed her eyes while her tongue washed and bathed. Sucking a man's penis while he nibbled at her pussy lips was satisfaction to the nth degree. A shiver of wantonness shivered through her as she imagined how she must look... face scrunched up, mouth drooling from taking all of his manly flesh down her throat while he slobbered over her cunt, sucking up her juices! Her face hollowing and filled around his penis, her hair flowing over the pillow, while thighs quivered and opened to his probing tongue.
Only one thing bothered her, something she couldn't quite determine in this hellishly maddening state of near orgasm. Something was wrong! Very wrong!
Ahhh... her whole body went stiff as a corpse. Every nerve in her body fired the message to her brain that this was it! She was cumming! Her nakedness trembled, her back arched, the cords in her neck standing out like telephone cords as she silently screamed her orgasm. She felt her cunt burn, itch... and then it blazed into a fiery orgasm.
"Ohhhh... mmfff... " She pumped madly at his cock, needing for him to cum in her mouth.
With an animalistic grunt, he rammed his penis so far and hard down her throat, he swore he'd given her a tonsillectomy! Once, twice, it twitched. The third twitch turned the faucet of his testicles and white hot cum gushed squirted from the dilated eye, squirting far back into her throat, gagging her. The salty brine teased her tastebuds and she gulped to keep from drowning, her throat muscles contracting in rhythm to the spurts.
Carrie Osgood shivered and shook. She ground her pussy into his mouth and wrapped her legs around his neck, trapping his face to her genitals, steaming and flowing with lust.
His mouth dripped from her tangy juices and still she came. His tongue was sore and chafed from her curly pubic hair mashing into his cheeks, but still he sucked. Finally, her body quieted as she swallowed the dregs of his sperm.
Long minutes later, when they lay side by side on the warmed bed, Carrie withdrew into a world of her own. Cuddling her cheek into the pillow, she realized what had stopped her from screaming out her love for him. The same reason she had sensed a lack of fulfillment.
His skin was pasty white. She needed a black panther, a young virile fourteen year-old to hurt her and make her his white slave.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was four o'clock in the afternoon with a burning fireball hanging low in the autumn sky.
The George Washington High School parking lot was peppered with students nuzzling in back seats of cars, smoking cigarettes and marijuana. Some drank beer from cans camouflaged in brown bags. Knives appeared from pockets and the talk was thick with violence and fear.
Leaning against the rough wall sprinkled on this third week of school with graffiti, Rose rested a sleek dark hand on her outthrust hip clad in skin tight Levis. The lemons of her breasts budded bralessly from a knit t-shirt. Smoking a cigarette and wearing a distant expression, Cederick stared absentmindedly across the street.
"Listen to me, man____" she spat, pulling a cigarette from her lush lips and flicking it haughtily. "----you be actin' real strange, you know. Like you ain' been sayin' nothin' in class. All you be doin' is starin' at that white bitch!" Glaring at him through slitted chocolate eyes sparkling with anger, she clamped her lithe arms over her chest defiantly. "I think you be wantin' to fuck her, that's what I think!"
"Shut your fuckin' nigger mouth!" he snapped. "You don' know what you be talkin' 'bout!"
He pulled away from the wall and started to walk away.
Irate, Rose grabbed him by the arm, swinging him around. "It's true, ain' it?"
"Nothin's true!" Pausing, he stared at his girl friend for a long silent moment. Since the gang rape of Miss Osgood two days before, something unsettling rankled him night and day. Ghetto boys learn early in life to erase regret and emotion. He felt himself softening, and he didn't care for that to happen. He felt anger weakening. That couldn't happen to Cederick! Drawing in a deep breath, his chest muscles rippled beneath his tight t-shirt.
Dark eyes scoured the fourteen year-old girl who's flesh he had tasted, savoured on warm, sticky nights in the park. Her arrogance, defiance and raw beauty reminded him of what he was �_" a low-born black boy with nothing to look forward to in life but filling station jobs and marrying a sexy woman who would loose her body with the first of five children they couldn't afford to raise. Locked into the ghetto for good.
"I thought you guys was gonna get her good... you don' got no balls, Cederick!" she snarled contemptuously, eating at his manhood with pearly white teeth beneath succulent lips he had kissed many times. Every time he saw her, love-lust sparked in his young groin. He loved her and hated her at once �_" loved her for her sex and hated her because she was pure, tangible evidence of his own entrapment. Somehow they belonged together �_" ironic, but true.
"All you think 'bout is gettin' white folks, Rose!"
She strutted toward him, thrusting her sex at him. "Now you startin' to sound like her! You be nothin' but a nigger, Cederick, you hear me?" She snorted her disgust. "You got any guts, you and Sammie and Stokley'd show her who runs this school!"
Cederick's hands balled up into fists. The vision of Miss Osgood's face contorted in fear and lust refused to erase from his mind. The had expected her to break, crack to pieces and leave her post at George Washington High. Hating himself for it, he had to admit that took guts �_" the kind of guts it took to survive the ghettos of Atlanta. Now Rose was testing him.
"I got news for you, baby," Leaning forward, jutting out a determined chin, she glared at him. "I been talkin' to Sammie and Stokley and they gonna get her good... your precious white bitch is gonna have her face in ribbons!"
Cederick stared at his lover's hate-filled eyes, sparkling with contempt. "You bitch!" he spat, his long muscular thighs sinewy under tight levis.
The trash-littered park surrounding the project emptied at five o'clock in the afternoon when mothers hustled their children indoors. Tipped over tricycles and toys were left in the dirt, and cramped apartments steamed with the smell of fried foods and kitchen grease.
Family squabbles echoed from one apartment to the next, wafting out into the empty park.
A lone child, escaped from the imprisonment of concern, sat with legs spread about a mound of dirt, shoveling spoonfuls into a rusted dump-truck. On the bench two black boys smoked cigarettes and spoke in thick, conspiratorial voices.
Sammie sat with legs spread, leaning elbows on his knees. He flicked his cigarette into the sandbox strewn with dog excrement. "Rose thinks Cederick's got the hots for Miss Osgood... not fuckin' her kinda hot, but likin' her kinda hot----" He shook his head, the breeze wafting through the plumes of his Afro hair.
"That dude do git some dumbshit ideas sometimes... talkin' about Martin Luther King and shit... " agreed Stokley. "Ever since Miz Big Tits came to Washin'ton, he be talkin' white folk crap." He straightened and threw back his shoulders. "He don' even come to the vigilante meetings no more____"
"Yeah----" whistled Sammie. "He ain' been after Rose's tail neither. Damn fool! Shit, I'd give anythin' to shove my dick in that cunt's hole!
Christ, what an ass!"
Yeah, but man, she be so hot on Cederick she don' want nobody else----" He jabbed his friend in the ribs.
"What she be don' out alone?"
"Don' worry, she cin take care of herself____" He squinted into the late afternoon shadows, watching Rose sashay down the sidewalk with her usual provocative strut. The mound of her pussy was cupped in skin tight Levis, and the bumblebees of her nipples poked out provocatively from her t-shirt. It was obvious she had come to find them. Rose was the type of girl who didn't speak unless she wanted something, and just what that something was, made both boys shudder with expectation.
"Hi, ya boys----" She settled on the park bench, the aroma of sweet perfume oozing from her pores. Her chocolate eyes twinkled with evil intent. The boys swallowed in unison and stole a questioning glance at each other.
"I got a favor to ask... and if you do it, you two gonna be two lucky boys... " She winked at them. "How'd you two like all of Rose's black skin just for doin' me a favor?"
Carrie hummed .along with the orchestration of the Tempest being performed on television. At her elbow, on the sofa's arm, were perched a stock of paperback books. Life of Martin Luther King, amongst them. The past few days witnessed a great change, a certain softening in the hardcore attitudes of the progressively-minded pupils. Cederick for one, which was why she had dallied in the used book store picking through the dusty stack for fresh reading material. To steer them into a non-violent path was her self-proclaimed vow, and to date she had one follower.
Interestingly how the class had divided into two camps, after hour long discussion on social change and its effects on the individual in society. From her front-of-the-classroom impression, it was obvious Cederick and his friends Sammie and Stokley had taken divergent paths. And Rose... Lord knew what thoughts ran through that girl's wicked mind!
Cederick had separated himself from the tight clique, and Carrie had to admit to a bit of self-pride on that score!
j Polishing her nails, wet hair wrapped in a towel, a loose terry cloth robe tied around her skimpily clad body, she felt a rare contentment. Making love to Phil the night before had freed her of an emotional bondage to him. Before the classroom attack, Phil had been her male god, her commander, the determiner of her happiness. His every action spelled out misery, distrust... all culminating in the torrid sex scene in his apartment! "Til the day they threw dirt on her grave, she would never forget the gut wrenching pain of watching him slave over a black woman's genitals.
Abruptly, the emery board fell from Carrie's fingers. She gulped dryly, her throat constricting, as the vision of Cederick, Sammie and Stokley's naked bodies overwhelmed her senses. Their strong fingers stroking over her vulnerable white flesh, the contrast of white and black, strength and frailty... youth and maturity. Maturity? Dear God, they knew more about sex than she!
Thoughts whizzed through her brain like spin-wheels. Why, she wondered, had her fear of sex dissipated? Why, for the first time, did the face of her mother not appear from the slightest sensual provocation? Back in Minnesota, a kiss on the cheek and snap �_" there stood Helen Osgood, sour-faced and disapproving. Magically, the ugliness of that guilt had melted, leaving her a free, sensual woman.
Alongside that thought crept a less sparkly one. Last night, making love to Phil something was missing, something was wrong. The mental images of herself slaving over his genitals while she spread her legs to offer up the playground of her cunt to his hungering mouth, were bland in contrast. Could it be, she wondered, blinking absentmindedly at the ballerina on the screen, that she, Carrie Osgood had a fixation for black males?
The doorbell rang. A chill of apprehension trickled through her body. Phil had been corralled into having dinner with his family and she, burdened with lesson plans, had reneged on the invitation. He had accepted her rejection sourly �_" of course. Then who would be knocking at her door at eight o'clock at night? Suddenly her world seemed sadly unpeopled with friends in a secluded world of her own. Curiosity piqued, she stripped the towel from her damp hair, letting it trail in Medusa-like strands, she unlatched the safety lock and peered through the door.
A tall black bodied boy with a sly smirk beamed back at her. "Sammie____?" The word choked in her throat. "What are you doing here?" His naked eyed stare burned through her flesh. "I come by to talk to you about this book you showed in class today," he said, pressing his face to the crack of the door. Noting her reluctance, he assured her: "Don't worry, I ain' gonna git tough... " He shuffled while she considered the implications of letting a student who had already used physical force on her, enter her apartment. "B'sides, I got a D- on that last test and with this essay you got us writin'... hell," he complained boyishly, "I don' understan' all this crap 'bout Gandhi and shit____" Once inside the door, Sammie shuffled nervously, feeling as trapped in his teacher's apartment as she had in the classroom with three naked boys taunting her. Carrie shuddered under her bathrobe. Long, elegant fingers combed nervously through her wet hair.
"I'm not really fit for company, Sammie," she shrugged, feeling his dark eyes burn into her.
Her heart pounded, in triple beat and as her blue eyes traveled over his dark, sinewy body, a strange rumbling congested the pit of her empty belly. In the dim light of the kitchen and the flickering light of the television screen, his ebony body appeared more rippling than ever, and his boyish nervousness titillated her hypnotically. "Let... let me go into the bedroom and change," she stammered, finding a modicum of relief in seeing a paperback novel stuffed into his back pocket.
"Min' if I have a seat?" He jerked his head toward the sofa littered with paperback novels and the instruments of a manicure set. The springs squeaked as his sinewy weight descended upon it, and indecision weighted his heart too. Five fingers stole to the back pocket to feel behind the paperback novel for the cold steel of his pen knife. In the bedroom he heard the bathroom door close and lock.
Trembling, Carrie raked a hairbrush through her shoulder length honey hair, studying her intent expression in the mirror. For a wild moment she considered telephoning Phil at his parents house; but one question would lead to another, and God help her he should find out about an unreported rape in the classroom at the tyranny of three black students! The case would demand her resignation, and then all ideals, the pain and humiliation would have been for nothing. No, better she handle this situation on her own. Silently, she unlocked the door and peering around the corner, saw his young face placid as a content puppy. Drawing a deep breath of relief, she ventured out into the bedroom and quickly snatched a pair of Levis and blouse from the bed. In a cat-like retreat, she hedged back into the bathroom and stripping off her bathrobe, slipped into her clothes.
A pair of jungle-dark eyes caught the quick, secret movement and with a pounding heart, Sammie leapt from the sofa and tip-toed toward the bedroom. Its sweet, feminine, clean scent was foreign to his nostrils accustomed to the sour smell of over crowded bedrooms.
His left hand stole behind his back and steady, sure fingers dipped into his back pocket for his pen knife. A streak of light shone under the bathroom door, slowly widening as Carrie emerged.
"Aiiiieeeekkkk!"
The cold feel of knife steel jabbed at her throat, and a sweaty arm clamped around her neck, stifling her cries.
His breath was hot on her neck. "Don't scream, teach... or that pretty white face's gonna be beef jerky!" he snarled.
"Sammie... " she choked. "Nggghhh..."
"There be jus' one I'm after... you know what that be, you black cock lover!"
"Nnnnggghh... "
Her hands shot up to tear at his arms, but the knife pressing at her jugular vein made her grow limp from the effort. "Shuddup...!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "Git down on the. bed... " He shoved her forward throwing her face down on the bed. In a flash, he pounced upon her, pressing her face down into the mattress.
Carrie's heart pounded as if it were trying to crawl out of her chest. His hot weight and sinewy strength straddled her back, pressing her to the mattress like a butterfly to a collector's board.
"No... not again, Sammie... please! I... I... m.
"You what? Want Cederick to fuck you? I got news for you, teach... Rose'll have your tits cut off if you don' loosen up on her man! You hear me?" Lifting one steely thigh, he rolled her over onto her back effortlessly. Knees pressed under her armpits, he snarled down at her.
Carrie's mouth fell open, her eyes rolled in terror. "Sammie... please stop this... please!"
His grin twisted at the corner of his thick lips, stretching into an obscene snarl. Resting his hands on his knees, knife clamped in his fist, he used his free hand to wrap in the soft tendrils of her damp hair, lifting her head up off the bed. Leaning forward with all his nubile strength, he clamped his warm, moist lips to hers.
"Mmmmm... " she tried to twist her head away, but his fingers pulling at the roots of her hair were encouragement to desist resistance. His tongue spurted between her lips and a caressing hand mauled upward toward her swelling breasts, rising and falling sharply.
What kind of monster was this fourteen year-old boy? she wondered, shaking in terror.
The rape in the classroom was mildly explainable; she had insulted their manliness and had to pay the price. But to come to her home and deliberately assault her, implied a deeper kind of violence �_" more personal, more terrifying and from the glint of the knife's steel, more threatening!
"You cock hungry bitch," he muttered throatily, grabbing her delicate wrist and pulling it forcibly down to the bulging crotch of his pants to press the flat of it against the swelling shaft of his erect penis.
Carrie clenched shut her eyes in terrifying humiliation and dread. Her fingers felt the hotness of his youthful virility, felt the dime-sized wet spot attesting to his lust. Pearly teeth clamped over a trembling lower lip as a wild jolt of excitation charged through her. With his black fingers, he spread her delicate ones, running her thumb and forefinger along the length and thickness. Behind fluttering eyelids, Carrie imagined the black tube of male flesh throbbing, swelling, pulsating, oozing. Her heart quickened, her pulse raced.
"No... oh, Gawd," she moaned, twisting beneath him, feeling his hot hand move into the waistband of her Levis and yank her blouse free. One warm palm shot toward her naked breast to taunt and torture the sensitive nipples, puckering the puffy pinkness into diamond chips.
"Unzip my pants and feel m' black cock...!" sneered Sammie. Grabbing her free wrist, he forced her fingers to search for the metal tab of his Levis and helped her yank it down.
Setting aside the knife, he grappled with the fastener and in one quick motion, forced her to search within the cotton trap of his Levis for the hot, pounding rod of his penis.
The warm, rubbery feel of his young virility sent shivers of unwanted desire shuddering through Carrie Osgood's captive body. Struggling to squeeze aside the salacious memories of feeling his penis slipping between her pink lips, she lost the war. The hunk of flesh jerked from the cool touch of her fingers.
"Let's git comf'table, Miz Osgood," he said, panting.
His superior weight and strength pinning her to the mattress coerced the teacher into soothing her fight. Every pore of her shivering body spasmed. In an easy effort, Sammie slid his weight down beside her trembling white body. The coercive force in this rape had been Rose's sinewy young body, animal in strength and sexuality, but now, staring down into Miss Osgood's sophisticated face, he knew he had wanted her for his own male ego.
To fuck a black chick was nothing; it happened every minute, on every street corner. But to shove his prick into a older white woman's cunt, was the frosting on the cake! She didn't know it, was loathe to admit, but he realized she was hot to fuck. He felt the curve of her thigh muscle tighten as if reaching out to meet him, to rub against his swollen cock. With a grunt of lust, he pressed his fingers into the crease of her ass cheeks. Carrie squirmed, moaning, eyes tightly clenched shut.
Carrie's brain steamed with boiling confusion. Violently, she struggled to shut out rational thought, reminding herself that this young boy was a hand-grab away from a knife. A very sharp knife that could lacerate her face with one carving motion!
Yet an animalish instinct was starved for the male power of his penis stabbing into her womanhood. She wanted, needed, to be subjugated, forced into bestial copulation! Hot and cold, she squirmed and writhed on the bed under his weight, one hand rubbing at the rubbery length of his blood heavy cock! Sammie grinned to himself. The bitch was worming around on the bed as if his cock were already inside of her. With that in mind, he moved a strong hand up between their bodies and yanked up her blouse, while the other steely paw snatched at the zipper of her Levis ripping down the metal tab. The shirt tail of her blouse bore the abuse of his urgency, and he yanked it off as buttons flew and fabric ripped.
Beneath him, Carrie groaned as he stripped her naked. The air conditioning played over the goosebumped orbs of her breasts. She sucked in her breath, all fight sapped from her.
With a grunt, white teeth showing under a thick upper lip, he ripped the blouse off her shoulders and pulling her by the air, lifted her to strip the shredded remains from her chest. For a hungry moment he stared at her, licking his lips. With slow movements, even and precise, he pulled her Levis down to her knees. Groaning he dipped forward and clamped his hands over her succulent breasts until they oozed like bread dough between his fingers. He had her naked now, except for her skimpy panties. Those could wait.
Wearily, he lifted his head, listening for the tap on the balcony door that would mean Stokley was prowling ready for his piece of the action. Then later it would be Rose's sweet ass for both of them!
Carrie's large nippled breasts poked crazily up into his face and he mashed his face into her creamy cleavage, licking his hot tongue between the goosebumped mounds. Funny, he hadn't noticed the other day how big her nipples were. Man, he could barely cram all of her breast into his mouth! She moaned desperately as he began to nibble and suck, pressing both breasts together to suck both nipples at once. Her breath snorted from her nostrils like a race horse at the finish line. Oh... what was she doing now? Hot damn, she was rubbing her hot, pussy covered mound against his throbbing dick and spreading her sleek legs out limply on either side of his hips.
"Unggggghhhh... " she groaned, flailing her blonde head from side to side. "Suck it...
ohhhhh, gawwwwd!"
And suck he did! Slobbering and opening his jaws so wide he swore they would lock, he struggled to suck both breasts into his mouth. The milky flesh oozed from between his fingers that mauled her succulent flesh painfully. Her soft flesh was suffocating him.
With a deep throated groan, he levered away and reached down to hook his black fingers in the tight elastic waistband of her skimpy bikini panties, and worked them slowly down over the half moons of her buttocks, squirming and grinding into the mattress below.
Sammie raked his ragged fingernails over the naked mounds of Carie's ass cheeks, yanking her lush body back on top of him as he rolled her over on the bed. Her breathing tore from her chest, strained and heavy, as his dark fingers explored the crevice of her smooth ass cheeks. Brutally he yanked them apart like a Parker House roll and fingered the buttony sponginess of her puckered anus. His black hands grazed the tightly rounded orbs of, oozing flesh, trailing lower to forge through the ragged, wet lips of her vagina and probe with his middle finger up into the tight slit.
"Ohhhhh... " she whimpered, envisioning his black hands mauling her white flesh with cruel, sadistic mastery. She spread her sleek thighs open wider to give him full access to her fleece lined pussy. Lurching, groaning, she felt him touch the tingling bud of her clitoris, felt the nub harden and well as it gushed with blood from the raping touch of his fingertips.
"Oh... do that!" she mewled. "Hurt me... "
With a lewd grunt, Sammie stripped out of his Levis, his black eyes feasting on the fleshy pink cuntal lips, dewed with her juices, revealed up between her shivering inner thighs. Up to her firm, milky breasts with their bee-stung nipples ventured his eyes, his virile young black penis lurching and jerking like a snake trying to twist its way out of a tight hole. He would have her in minutes! Would feel his thick black cock slamming into her tight, pink cunt!
Carrie's eyelids flickered in lust as she felt him grind against her, trying to push her back on the mattress so that he could mount her from on top. The satiny feel of his soft dark flesh on her shivering naked whiteness made her eyes jerk with the shocking electrifying contact. Her blue orbs stared at him kneeling there before her, now almost on top of her, a lewd and cruel grin creasing his thick soft lips. Her wide eyes trailed southward to his lean .chest rippling with sinew, down over his taut belly to his lust hardened cock looming up in pulsing erection from his pelvis, and she shuddered in response to the salacious look in his flaming eyes as he grabbed his black girth and began to stroke the outer layer of skin up and down over the mushroom tipped head, making his balls sway between his strong, dark thighs.
"Ohhhh... " she moaned, her breath hissing from her throat, making her naked breasts quiver sensually before him as she gaped in mesmeric awe at the hard, throbbing flesh glistening darkly in the dim light flickering from the television set a room away. The lights played off the shimmering flesh like stars reflecting off deep waters. Mentally, she made a comparison between Phil's thick, veiny penis streaked with blue veins and the solid meat of this dark boy's virility. She licked her soft lips, feeling that same oral mania claim possession of her again. When, dear Lord, when would she outgrow this mania for black boy flesh? Her mouth watered, her body shook and she could already taste the piquant male juices of his boy-cum.
"Like my cock, teach?" he taunted lewdly, pushing his naked teacher down onto her back and lowering his body over her before she could protest, sliding down until his face was hovering over the smooth plain of her belly. He gazed up between her swollen breasts at her shocked face, his dark chocolate eyes feverish with lust. "First I'm gonna taste that sweet, pink cunt... " he grinned.
Carrie swallowed dryly. The cool air played over the raw, inflamed, nerve-filled flesh of her vaginal slit and he gaped goggle eyed down at the sight of moistly glistening cuntal fringed lips wisped with honey curls. His mouth watered from the sight of her petal-like lips dewed with glistening juices, with the oily nub of her clitoris hidden in the bushes of pubic curls, like a single fallen blossom in long grass. The slit pumped with blood before his eyes.
Carrie shivered at the feel of his hot breath snorting between her inner thighs, and the caress of his hot, rough tongue licking a slick trail up through her nakedly exposed cunt lips made her shudder. She shoved her pelvis up into his face, moaning. Carrie was lost...
lost in a world of her own.
Sammie licked and sucked and ground his smooth black face into his teacher's wet, ragged cunt. He fastened his lips ravenously onto the bud of her clitoris as she wriggled and squirmed her rounded hips. She smelled fresh and sweet as if she had just stepped out of the shower. The satiny white skin of her straining thighs clasping and scissoring against his face was smothering him until he could hardly breathe! What a sweet death!
Never had he tasted such a sweet pussy. He never thought he would enjoy eating a white woman's cunt �_" but, man, he was learning the joys of inter-racial lust fast! Maybe, he thought, snickering to himself, all her talk of love and scrambling up the races was true.
Maybe whites and blacks should learn to love each other!
Unexpectedly, Carrie's hands clamped his cheeks and she yanked his cum glistening face from the steaming morass of her cunt. "I... I can't take anymore... I'm... " Her blue eyes pleaded up at him and it was obviously she was about to explode into orgasm. For some unexplainable reason, she wanted to prolong it.
Bewildered, Sammie stared at his teacher. "If you don' like the way I suck your cunt, then you suck my dick!" He wiped her cuntal juices from his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring up between her heaving breasts with a fierce expression on his face.
"I didn't say I didn't... "
Taking control once more, fearful he'd let himself soften, he grabbed the pen knife from the wrinkled bedspread and stuck it to her jugular vein. "Suck my cock, bitch!" he snarled.
From the look in her eye, hungry and glassy, he knew his threat was assininely superfluous!
Carrie struggled up to her elbows to glare down at him, her blue orbs sprinkled with wild sensuality and excitement as they shot downward to stare at the glistening black rod oozing with pearls of pre-cum. Subconsciously, she licked her lips. "You don't have to use a knife on me, Sammie," she whispered throatily.
Squinting at her distrustfully, he pulled it back from her throat and cocking his head warned her: "You try anythin' foolish, lady... you try to run for that door, and that pretty face is gonna be in red ribbons!"
He meant it and she knew it. She also knew that that throbbing black penis jutting up toward the ceiling from a black kinky nest, was about the most delicious sight she'd seen since she first noticed a difference between girls and boys.
"Put down the knife," she purred, "and let's do this right!"
Carrie pressed his black nudity so that his thighs were spread wide. She dropped down over him to curl her fingers tightly around his cock, giving it a loving squeeze.
The knife fell from the awestruck fourteen-year old's black paw as his teacher's delicate fist grasped his hot tube and pumped it hard. A charge of crazy sensations sparked from his taut belly to his muscular vee shaped loins. Convulsively spasming, he felt her gentle caress as she began to stroke the loose foreskin up and down his throbbing penile shaft in a slow mesmerizing rhythm. Stranger still... she couldn't tear her eyes off of it. Bewildered, he studied his teacher's lust-contorted expression as she hovered over him, inching downward over his strong body until she got to her knees and lowered her head inches from his throbbing black prick. Her blue eyes glistened with hunger as she flicked out the tip of her velvety pink tongue to moisten her lips. Adoringly, she held the pulsing shaft in both soft hands, massaging it between the flats of her palms, teasing up and down until his lust fired loins undulated in a shuddering rhythm to maddeningly sensual strokes.
"Ah, God, you cock-lovin' bitch!" he moaned, lying back. The knife forgotten, fell to the floor. Just who was raping who was a matter of speculation!
Miss Osgood, slaving on her black student's throbbing penis, entered a world of her own.
Somewhere between heaven and hell she hovered, teetering, while sizzling devils' pitchforks pricked at the moistened lips of her cunt. As she teased and stroked his hot erection, feeling him twist and groan, her ears buzzing with his feverish moans of lust as she slaved up and down on the tightly stretched foreskin, she worked the purple veined ebony shaft into volcanic hardness.
With precious adoration, she worked the outer layer of flesh down over the naked, seeping head, her mind floating with nothing but the warm, throbbing promise of it in her hand. The tangy smell of him flared in her nostrils and her soft lips brushed over the seeping tip, wetting her lips. Sammie choked, lost in her charm as she drew in her breath and flicked out her tongue tip to swirl around and over his slick male flesh as he twisted and groaned and jerked as if his finger were stuck in an empty light socket!
The spicy tang of his pre-cum oozing from the tiny eye was nectar to her tastebuds and, closing her eyes, she imagined seeing herself with her pink lips stretched around the meaty girth of his pounding black cock. Black and white, male and female, dominant and submissive... the old theme repeated itself, imprinting in her brain forever that this was the only gratifying act the world offered her. The rest of the world could go to hell, blow to smithereens, but it was she and black cock that mattered forever. Lightly she licked down the length of his black tube, dragging her tongue almost to the base before bringing it back up to trail the same searing path, her hand smoothing along its wake, up and down, then lower to cuddle his testicles. Delicately, her fingers weighed the cum-heavy bags in her palm, her other hand pulling the loose foreskin down so far that the nakedly seeping eye squirted smears of sticky thread over her chin.
Slavishly, she maneuvered her feasting, stretched lips back to the tip and shoved it into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and ovaling her lips as if they were so much elastic!
Anything to accommodate him! She revered it, adored it, let it become her master. Eyelids fluttering in ecstasy, she stared at the throbbing black flesh oozing virility.
CHAPTER NINE
Disco music blared from a portable radio sitting atop the cement-chipped stoop of Cederick's family's apartment. The night was sticky, the air heavy with the pollen smells of autumn and dying flowers. Something deep inside him was withering, too. Ruefully, he yanked a Kool cigarette from the crinkly pack rolled in his sleeve and stuck it between pouting lips. A long, thoughtful drag and he braced his chin in an upturned palm, elbow resting on his knee.
Growing up was more than getting tired of old friends, he ruminated on this calm, humid night. Indoors he heard the heated discontent of husband and wife soon to come to blows.
Arguing, hatred, frustration... he realized in a burst of understanding, wasn't limited to racial hatred. It happened in the home, it happened between lovers, and it happened between friends. His thoughts fled to Rose, the sex pot of Washington High. Making threats against Miss Osgood, too, out of blind jealousy. How immature could one be?
"Ah shit... " he grumbled. The cigarette was flicked into the littered gutter, searing a black cat hunched with twitching nose to the street grate. She screeched and leapt into the night. He felt gut wrenching guilt about the sexual attack of Miss Osgood. The woman hadn't deserved it; in fact, if he dared examine his motive, he was forced to admit the attack was the last ditch effort to test his masculinity, to test its power and influence. In the end, he learned force didn't change anything for the better. Miss Osgood refused to be scared off. Hell, she didn't even report it to the Sup!
A bulge in his Levis tore his attention from the mental to the physical. Twitters of titillation added to self-contempt. That afternoon when he'd jumped atop the yellow Toyota's hood and demanded the shivering white woman strip he was fully prepared to smash the windshield with the baseball bat. Hell, he thought sickened, he could have killed her, an innocent bystander. None of these killings were her fault. Just because she had white skin and came from the north, didn't make her a racist. The thrusting innocence in her features, a quality rare in this part of Atlanta, had held him back and pressured to take action in front of his vigilante friends, he'd succumbed to humiliating her my masturbating on the windshield... to prove his manhood. Still, he couldn't fight down a tingling in his groin at the thought of staring at her milky white breasts, so firm and wide set, and splashing his cum over her face, protected only by a sheet of glass.
A voice cut his meditative thoughts, making him suddenly aware of the raucous family fight screaming from his parents' apartment. He shrugged it off. What was new about that?
"Cederick, hello... "
'Hmmmm?" His head shot up. Rose's ebony frame was silhouetted against the dark night.
Smug and secretive as ever, she stood with fingers draped in Levi pockets, swaying smugly as if tempting him to shake the truth out of her. Her arrogance irritated him sometimes �_" like now. For the first time all week he had a chance to sit down and get things straight with himself and the world. All the discussion on Gandhi and Martin Luther King and passivity set his mind on a new trail... and now Rose had to jump in his path.
Uninvited, she made herself comfortable on the cement stoop beside him and rubbed her shoulder into his arm, a gesture like that of a female cat in heat stroking against a black torn cat. She shivered her shoulder haughtily. "You ain' been showin' up for the vigilante meetin's, Cederick. What's the matter," she chimed tauntingly, "Miss Big Tits preachin' gettin' to ya?"
Cederick's bushy head shot around and he leveled a withering gaze into her sparkling eyes. "Lay off the teacher, will ya? She ain' done nothin' wrong!"
Taken aback, her eyes slitted. "Don' you talk to me like that, Cederick!" She squared her shoulders vengefully. "You dropped me, and don' you be forgettin' that!"
He read the sly squint in her eyes as threatening, noted the sneering grin on her tight mouth, taut with vengeance for anything that dared challenge her desires. "Listen," he turned to her. "You try any shit with Miss Osgood and you'll... "
"I'll what?" she sneered.
Upper lip curdling, his white teeth showing between thick, black lips, he straightened up.
"You just better not... " His sinewy arm shot up.
Rose cowered, protecting her face with her arms. "Nothin you ain' already done. Your buddies Sammie and Stokley be braggin' 'bout fuckin' Miss Osgood... and I ain' gonna let no white bitch take my man!"
"Your man?" he spat, jumping to his feet. "I ain' no possession �_" nobody owns me!"
"Cederick, you come back here!" His long muscular legs scissored off into the night, leaving the fourteen year-old to cry into her hands, the portable radio blaring a disco tune to keep her company. At the end of the block, Cederick turned and shot a curious glance over his shoulder. She's just a black ghetto whore... he realized for the first time. Ain' never gonna do nothin' but sit on stoops and bitch at her old man. That ain' for me...
Stokley hoisted his lanky body up the fragile magnolia tree, his nose twitching, eyes burning from the rich pollen flicking from the dried flowers. Hand over hand crawled, limb by limb, twigs crackling under his weight. Straining toward the balcony, his ebony fingers wrapped around the wrought iron grill and grunting with the effort, managed to swing himself around so that his right foot hooked between the grates. He cursed cigarettes and alcohol indulgences as he sweated out the last maneuver. One lanky leg swung over the balcony and panting for breath, he pressed his thievish body against the wall, the whites of his eyes shining in the night surveying the apartment grounds for suspicious movements.
A window opened onto the balcony. He prayed he'd found the teacher's apartment this time. Half an hour prior, he'd scrambled up a scraggly vine only to discover he was peering into a child's bedroom. Pressing his ear to the window, a cool grin broke out over his black face. When his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he pressed his nose to the window and squinted to accommodate for the lack of light within. Through the diaphanous curtains, his thievish eyes focused on the naked white half moons of Miss Osgood's swaying ass cheeks. "Shit... " he groaned, where the hell's Sammie? A dark shadow, sharp in contrast to Miss Osgood's white flesh, moved. Hell... she's sucking him off!
Concentrating then, he searched for signs of blood on the coverlet, ears honed for grunts of pain. Groans and moans of animal pleasure filtered through the wall.
Stokley stared again. Her thighs were spread so wide apart he could see the ragged lips of her cunt, all pink and moist and pouting like a lost kid! His breath caught in his chest.
Miss Osgood was giving his buddy one hell of a blow job he noted enviously, staring past one of her melonous breasts dangling from her slender ribcage.
Rape? What kind of rape was this? Stokley scratched his head in wonderment. His breath left his body in a hissing gush as his hand shot down to his groin to stroke the hard swell of his cock. He closed his eyes for a delicious moment, savoring the feel of Miss Osgood's mouth slipping up and down his fevered prick, licking her tongue into the tiny slit, lapping at his juices.
Behind his zipper his cock lurched with salacious joy at the sight of her little brown anus winking back at him. Deep within the crevice of her ass cheeks, it puckered and unpuckered with the movements of her tongue. Stokley couldn't take much more. Like Sammie his motive had been a piece of little Rose's hot ass... but Rose was cold hamburger compared to the juicy barbecue of Miss Osgood's mature creaminess!
No evidence of a fight was to be seen anywhere. The room was in fresh order. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised to find Miss Osgood's stripped off clothes folded neatly on a chair.
Stealthily he pulled from his back pocket a stolen credit card and, slipping it under the latch, gave the metal a quick jab and the door unlocked. Slowly he slid it back, the sound of metal against metal making him wince. The room was cool and orderly, illuminated by a crackling television set and dim kitchen light. His head spun around to the room off the living room where slurping sounds and lewd grunts and groans pricked the air. Kicking off his Adidas shoes, he tip-toed to the door and with jabbing jerks, took a quick survey of the lust happening within.
Miss Osgood's ass was as pretty as her face, he decided, squinting at her full moons moving with the movements of her bobbing head slaving over Sammie's fourteen year-old penis. Groveling on the bed, mouthing guttural words Stokley could not understand, Sammie squinted past his teacher, glassy eyes and up over the mountains of her moving ass cheeks to fasten on the slack jawed face of his comrade vigilante.
Hovering in the living room shadows, Stokley ran his thick tongue over the succulence of his lips. She started to twist her head around, but Sammie stuck his fingers in her ears and dragged her bobbing head back down on his cock, while keeping one wary eye on Stokley. Dipping down to one knee, he stared at his buddie's lust drawn face between the spread thighs of Miss Osgood's genitals! Man, what a view! He wished he had a camera to put that photograph on the front page of the Washington High Sentinel! Her body bobbed and swayed and he could see her sucking lips slip up and down the dark shadow of Sammie's cock.
Inside his pants, Stokley's penis jumped in envy. It throbbed and jerked in impatience.
Slowly, licking his lips, Stokley pushed it down with the heel of his hand, like a pet owner training its dog. His forehead was sheened with sweat and his armpits were soaked. To stand here and watch those naked ass cheeks waving like a carrot before the horse was too much. If he strained his eyes, he could see the pussy juices dripping from the soft curls of her lips. Man, he could almost see the blood swell her vagina, taste the juices, savor the hole of her anus opening and closing like a tiny mouth.
Nervousness set in. His dark eyes raked over the apartment. Shriveling he felt like an intruder. What the hell did he know about Miss Osgood, anyway? She might be a real kook! Her boyfriend might be hiding in the closet ready to castrate both of them. And there lay Sammie cooing like a baby at the breast. Stokley wrang his hands, fought down the trip hammer of his heart. A bite of Rose's black ass sure wasn't worth it �_" but the jab of his stiff cock into Miss Osgood's juicy pussy might be! With lust incensed eyes, he gaped at her slaving lips working, sucking, nibbling at Sammie's prick.
Stokley jerked his head to get Sammie's attention. Creeping like a jungle beast, hand over hand on the carpet, he neared the bed. One hand yanked at his pants zipper, the other pulled them down over his hips to his knees. Silently standing up he peeled them over his ankles and kicked them free.
Between his teacher's dangling breasts, Sammie eyed the throbbing hulk of Stokley's black penis cleaving the air. Now he stood naked from the waist down a hand grab away from her swaying half moon. Relieved that his buddy was here as reinforcement, Sammie groaned through parted lips from the satiny feel of her silken lips wrapping around his penis. The thin tensile rim of her lips clung to his purple veined cock shaft as if she had claimed it for life!
With hip grinding movements, he fucked up into her warmly sucking mouth and gaped at her lust contorted angelic face, suddenly scrunched up like the devil himself. She caressed and squeezed his balls in the warm palms of her hands, and from the corner of her rosebud lips, he could see silky threads of his pre-cum as she groveled in masochistic joy.
To keep her concentration on his prick, Sammie thrust his buttocks up in wild contortions, fucking deep into her working throat until his pubic hair brushed against her sniffling nose.
Desperate gagging sounds tore from her throat, muffled around the black girth stuffed between her lips. The heat of amassed cum scalding his testicles made him suck in his breath. Still she sucked, refusing to slow, refusing to give up a single black inch of him! The tangy penis spicy to the tastebuds was Carrie's lone concern. It jerked and throbbed until she feared she might gobble it up. Between her silken thighs, she felt her clitoris throb in need and knew it would take a few rubs to send her soaring toward orgasm. The pounding meat in her mouth was hot and hard, making the breath snorting from her nostrils steam. Oh, to cum just when he shot his hot seed into her mouth. Lord, how she needed it! Black cock was her dope, her fix!
Abruptly Carrie's wide blue eyes sprang open as if on springs! The warm, rubbery feel of something drubbing at the ragged lips of her cunt sent her head flying around. "Ouchhhh!"
she yelped. Sammie caught her by the hair, yanking her head down on his throbbing length. Violently, he fucked into her mouth, deeper, harder, filling her mouth until the corner of her lips felt they would tear like so much tissue paper.
"Jus' me, Stokley, Miz Osgood... " he snickered. "Be a good girl an' keep that ass swayin' in the breeze, and ol' Stokley'll make ya feel real good!" he promised thickly.
Gripped by fear of a second assailant, Carrie struggled once more to pull her face free from his loins. But he held her tight, and from behind stronger, urgent hands gripped at her hips, muttering threats.
Dear God, this couldn't happen twice! Fantasy burst like a bubble and as reality swept through her shivering body she grasped their intent. The knife, the intrusion into her private apartment. Now that they knew where she lived, what would stop them from their heinous crime! These clever black boys had discovered her mania �_" and held her captive to her own fixation!
"Don' try to fight, Miss Osgood." Eyeing a silver emery board sitting on the nightstand next to her alarm clock, he snatched it up and held the cold metal tip to her buttocks. "Feel that? One grunt outta you and you're ass is gonna be bleeding �_" with my initials!" He carved an S with the tip and grinned as she sucked in her breath and fought against Sammie's tight hand hold. "I jus' gonna fuck ya from behind, like the bitch dog you is... "
"Nooooo... mmmffff..." she wailed around the hard penis ramming back down her throat as tears filled her eyes and wetted her cheeks to drip into Sammie's kinky pubic hair. To be forced again was beyond decency, beyond humiliation. Yet what choice had she?
He spread her ass cheeks like a hot buttered roll with the strength of his knees. The heavy length of his swollen cock made her shudder as it rubbed up between her inner thighs, leaving a warm film of pre-cum to wet her pussy lips. She strained her neck, fighting against Sammie's hold to gaze back between her own legs and catch a glimpse of his purple veined cock.
Huge... pounding, menacing! Its black, shiny nakedness was shoved half way between her pussy lips and an icy chill of fear rippled through her body. The girth of him would ruin her forever! Some deep corner of her heart revealed a dark secret: It was Cederick she craved.
Stokley licked his lips. Jesus, but she had a nice cunt. Sweet smelling too, if his flaring nostrils didn't lie. The lips were pretty, like a blossoming rose with honey blonde fleece lining the crevice. Christ, she was slaving over Sammie's cock like she was trying to gobble it down to the roots.
He reared back �_" and shoved! Drawing his hips upward, he dragged his thick black cock up the length of her steaming crevice and pointed it at the puckered anus so lusciously open there between her rounded ass cheeks. The idea of fucking his teacher in the ass was even too liberated for his vigilante ideals! She would turn him over to the cops and let the KKK have their fun! No chicken feathers around this ones neck! he decided, lowering his goals in favor of a dog fashion fuck. Yeah... her tight, pretty little pussy deserved his hard cock!
Inching his knees backward, he dropped down to press his lanky weight on his arms until he hovered behind her like a dog. His nose tickled from the soapy clean scent of her. Like a dog he sniffed at her genitals and knew she was in heat! Leaning forward, his wet tongue licked up through the cum-dampened pussy hair to her cuntal hole, across the ragged flesh to the tiny wrinkled button of her anus. Lapping like a dog, trying to slick into that spongy hole, he gave up the fight. She was too tight. He played there contentedly, licking up and down and around the wrinkled flesh as he felt her wiggle and wave her naked buttocks more wildly in response to the maddening sensation ricocheting through her body.
Black cock stuffing her mouth, black cock stuffing her pussy! Dimly, she wondered how he had broken into her apartment. Concentration fell on her mouth then. Her jaws felt as if she'd developed a case of lock jaw. Her tongue was sore, the corners of her mouth stretched like a rubber band to its bursting point. Shame, red hot and blistering, flamed within her body, but not hotter than the deep need to be subjugated and hurt. The idea of being fucked by black boys, sucking one while the other fucked her from behind, was hellishly unforgivable. As unforgivable as wanting her father to press her to his body and stroke her, giving her the affection her mother never had.
Just as Carrie was relaxing with the feel of his tongue drubbing at the lips of her anus, the soft, sucking pressure abated. In mid-suck, she paused, shuddering as she heard him shift on the bed behind her.
"Nnnnggghhhh!" His tongue lifted and his thick cock pressed against the sensitive split of her vagina. The bloated length of his pounding male flesh followed the struggling motions as she whined and whimpered, trying to escape impalement. Twisting to the side, she struggled to pull away from Sammie's grasp. In answer, he grunted, wrapping his fingers more tightly in her damp blonde hair.
Her wide blue eyes flew open for a dim moment to watch the shadows on the wall in front of her. Like a child's shadow play, the dark silhouette of Stokley rising on his knees in dog fashion, sliding close in to tease her cringing cunt with the oozing head of his black cock, made her shudder with voyeuristic anticipation. Grunting, he shoved the black girth between her wetly splayed lips to give a few strokes to the burning bud of her clitoris.
Carrie moaned in baffled sobs of masochistic confusion.
Stokley was all smiles. Shit! This white bitch was on fire for him! Waggling her naked ass cheeks in his face, he stroked at her clitoris with the slimy tip of his cock, never budging an inch while Sammie rammed his cock down her throat.
Abruptly, Carrie's spine arched from a jolt of pain up her tightly stretched vagina and her thighs split wider apart from the pressure of his bony knees wedging her apart.
WHAM!
Stokley's cock rammed into her cuntal hole with a slurping thud and the weight of his muscular stomach slapped hard against her soft, naked buttocks. Carrie's mouth was shoved down, encircling Sammie's burgeoning cock like a rubber condom.
"Aaaaahhhhggghhh!" she gurgled, half choking on his penis. It hurt as it stabbed at her tonsils. She was held captive by two virile black fourteen year-old boys... one stabbing his dark cockhead into her tortured mouth and the other stroking at her vagina, battering her between them cruelly.
Withdrawing, Stokley thrust again, the hammering stroke taking her breath away as it shot electric energy from the depths of her contracting belly to her fevered libido. Grunting, he slammed into her, fucking her for real and creating a hunching rhythm that matched the smooth strokings of Sammie's mouth fucking in the front.
Carrie's cuntal hole felt as if someone were ramming a log into it! Searing, stretching, chafed, the raw nerve ends milked lubricants as he fucked harder into the snug hole, forcing her down onto Sammie's groin.
She gagged then as Sammie clutched brutally at her head to jerk her face up and down as if her head were on springs; he rammed his cock deeper into her throat, scraping her tonsils and ramming it down the tight passage of her esophagus.
"Suck me... ah... Miss Osgood!" he choked, as sweat beaded his forehead.
They buffeted and fucked her, savagely pulling and yanking at her tender, bruised flesh.
They called her whore, white cunt, bitch. The scene was steamy and carnal and sadistically perverse. The harder they fucked, the more she mewled. She screwed her naked ass cheeks back at Stokley and nibbled at Sammie's ebony cock with her pearly front teeth... tenderly, gently with the hot perversity of her soul.
Carrie's mind was frozen in time and space. Being fucked from both directions was heaven on earth. Then she froze as an unexpected flash of reality pierced her soul. Some time, some how, she would have to pay for this. Nobody got anything for nothing in this world �_" let alone pleasure.
"Hey, what's matter, teach?" Stokley snarled and slapped her on the buttocks. "Your batteries be runnin' low!"
"Mmmmmfff... " Carrie, eyelids fluttering dreamily, closed her mind to retribution and pumping at Sammie's blood heavy cock shut out reality. Time for that later.
CHAPTER TEN
Phil Carmichael rubbed his belly stuffed with his mother's famous beef stroganoff, dripping with sour cream and dotted with buttery mushrooms. Mrs. Carmichael plucked her son's plate from the table to refill it.
"No... gotta go. Got a date with Carrie tonight," he said unceremoniously shoving back his chair and heading for the door.
"Manners! Crass you are for a Southern boy!" she yelped after him. "Two months in town and you haven't introduced me to the girl once!"
The door slammed shut after him. "Sorry, Ma... thanks for the meal."
Contentedly, Phil slouched behind the car wheel and turned on the radio. Atlanta news announced the turn of the hour. "Police report prowlers in the area of the Elm Street housing project. We encourage all parents to keep their children indoors. Whether these suspected prowlers have any connection to the murders, has not been ascertained. Again, it is speculation, but we encourage... "
Complacency burst like a soap bubble. "Elm Street housing... "
The night was suspiciously sticky and cloying, as if the humidity itself were trying to choke him. The give compartment clicked open and rummaging under city maps and empty cigarette packs, Phil felt for the cool metal of his handgun. In the belt of his pants, the cool steel budged at his hip with every step up the flight leading to Carrie's apartment.
In the hallway, the soft conversation of television emanated from under Carrie's door, as well as a sliver of light. He breathed easier then. Stealthily, he pulled the gun from his belt and squinted down the hallway, his finger itching to come face to face with any bastard who dared snake around his wife's-to-be territory! Cautiously he put his ear to the door to hear two sets of voices. The strident orchestration of the Tempest sounded strangely out of tune with the low moans and groans seeping through the hardwood door.
Phil felt dizzy, hot and cold at once. Something was amiss. Now the soft mewls of a woman stung his ears. His hand twisted the door knob and to his shock, it turned. Slowly he pulled the door open and tip-toed inside. His eyes fled to the television set, the stack of books and discarded manicure set. She was home �_" but with whom? The idea of any man touching his woman made the blood sing in his ears. Two steps from the living room brought him into full view of the bedroom.
Abruptly his forehead smoothed in white hot anger and breath snorted from his lungs, hissing through pursed lips. His eyes crossed and bulged as he glowered at the black and white entanglement of entwined arms and legs.
Dumbfounded, he gawked at the glistening nakedness, of twisted arms and legs and heavy breasts and swaying buttocks... he squinted in disbelief, utter incredulity. Carrie, his Carrie, was...
Christ, it couldn't be!
Saliva choked in his throat as his eyes followed the black outline of a young black boy hammering into his beloved's vagina from the back while another slammed his �_" oh, God help me! �_" black penis into her mouth from the front!
Rape? Was this Rape? Her muffled screams of joy mingled with the panting snorts heaving from his chest.
"Mmmmfff..." she cooed around the sausage stuffing her pink mouth.
Kill her or kill himself �_" that was the question? His eyes popped open as he stared silently at the naked, gyrating female. Fucking and sucking two black boys �_" and loving it!
He couldn't think, he couldn't feel. He could only react. Rage roared so hot he could taste it in his mouth, feel it dampen his armpits and bloat his groin. She had deceived him, and now she was ignoring him! Christ almighty! She could at least defend herself and stop sucking that damned black prick.' Blood pounded like a sledgehammer in his temples and shot through his anger-shuddering body, gushing to his penis to make it throb unbearably. Frozen, hand gripping the gun, mindless to anything but the rhythm of the two boys (no doubt her students, the cunt!) fucking into her. So busy were they, enslaving her, making his wife-to-be their white slave, they didn't hear him.
Transfixed, he watched the long black cock cleave into the pink pussy lips clinging wetly to the boy's penis, trying to gobble it up inside her cheating cunt! Squinting against the dim light from behind him, he saw a second ebony cock slipping into her mouth while her hand tenderly cuddled his walnut-sized testicles.
No... it couldn't be his Carrie! His immediate response was to kill. Two pulls of the trigger and they would be lying in their own black blood. Murder? Was it worth it? His mind was loosening now, beginning to work to his credit. Hell, he refused to spend the rest of his life in prison because of one cheating cunt! His knuckles turned white from the tight grip... yet he didn't pull the trigger. Better to make them suffer.
Feeling his own lust mount, he watched his fiancee moaning and muttering around the black kid's meaty prick, slobbering and cooing and making a fool of herself... and what for?
Remembrances of her Victorian attitudes, her nagging about his drinking, her claims of rape when oh, God, how she'd wanted to be screwed! Alongside that image flickered the more damning one of watching her nipples turn hard and goosebump flesh as she stripped for the ghetto vigilantes and watched, mouth watering, as one of the dirty cocksuckers spewed his filthy cum down the windshield. She had denied, and how sharply, her humiliation and disgust, but in truth? He had only to watch her grovel in the sack to know the truth. This time he was right. That hurt.
His bulged eyes focused on the grinding ass cheeks of his fiancee's as they ground back to screw onto the boy's hard cock behind her. Tormented, infuriated beyond reason, he watched as she matched their rhythm from front and behind �_" fucking and sucking, back and forth, in and out. Thrust for thrust she met them head-on, her creamy whiteness shadowed by their darkness. Bile rose in his throat, but he fought it down.
Cheating bitch! Black cock loving bitch! He remembered now the muffled comment about black cock when he'd been screwing his penis into her damned mouth. Well, this woman could have all the black cock she wanted, but on his terms! Snickering with bitterness, he felt his cock lurch in the crotch of his pants, leaping and bloating in revenge. Punishment would be hers alright. Anger and resentment fired in his mind. The wet slapping sounds and lewd slurpings of lovemaking percolated rage within his muscular frame. His eyes refused to focus them. After he had taken her by force and coupled his emotional punishment with having her watch him make love to another woman, he had learned that force was the not way to a woman's heart. Oh, she must have laughed at him, thought him a fool! She was proving that now! No woman was going to laugh at Phil Carmichael! NOT OVER HER DEAD BODY!
"JUST KEEP FUCKING, YOU BITCH!" He snarled, extending his arm and pointing his gun at the threesome groveling on the bed.
A horror-struck black boy's face swung around, jaw hanging slack. Stokley swallowed dryly, his dark eyes staring at the hole of the barrel. "Phil... " muttered Carrie, dumbstruck and dropping her tortured lips from Sammie's cock.
She blinked, reality returning in blazing mists of fear.
"Oh, shit____" groaned Sammie. "It's the Atlanta murderer... "
, "That's not him!"
whispered Carrie, her hand pumping at his cock as if hanging onto a life raft. "That's...
that's my boyfriend!" She squeezed shut her eyes in horror, feeling Stokley's cock still rammed tightly into her vagina, grinding his groin into the smooth crevice of her buttocks, his kinky curls scraping her rectal button. Wailing, she tried to wiggle free of her captors who held her tight between them.
"You shoot us," reasoned Sammie trembling with fear, "... and you gonna shoot her, too!"
He grabbed Carrie in his tight muscled arms. "I ain' gonna die for no white bitch!"
"Neither am I," retorted Phil, his upper lip curled over his white teeth.
Holding the gun point blank at the fear struck threesome, still locked in the posture of lovemaking, Phil stripped off his shirt and kicked off his pants. Carrie shivered and shook like an autumn leaf parting from its twig at the sight of his white, throbbing penis poling out punishingly from his hairy groin. Carrie gulped dryly and bowed her head as if this were to be her last communion. Tears stung her eyes and shame shuddered through her humiliated flesh. Caught in her own vice, her own wickedness, she knew this was the end.
But of what? Of life? Would her own fiance kill her for making a mistake?
Phil glowered down at the shivering, self-pitying woman he had once loved. Hiding behind the black boy she cowered in his dark arms for safety. The one with his cock rammed in her cunt was frozen to the spot!
"Keep fuckin' black boys... just keep fuckin!" He pointed the barrel at Stokley's naked ass cheeks, pushing the cold steel between his fleshy buttocks and taunting his testicles heavy with sperm. "You... you!" He jerked his head at the slack jawed Sammie. "Keep your cock in her mouth! We might as well make it complete... fill up the cock hungry bitch!" Giving Stokley's balls one final flick, he snarled: "Move over... I'm taking her asshole!"
Carrie groaned, her hand pumping Sammie's cock as he repositioned , himself beneath her so that she could lower her head down to his steaming groin. From behind, Stokley was quick to comply. The cold feel of steel jabbing at his ass was reason enough to fuck this white, screwed up woman.
The bed sank as Phil lowered himself to his knees and knee walked up tight to Carrie; he yanked her legs cruelly apart until the puckered hole, moist from Stokley's virile cock, was a thrust away.
Carrie clenched shut her eyes and clenched shut her buttocks, too, but her inferior female strength and the fear of having her head blown to bits, made her efforts feeble. Gasping, flailing her blonde head from side to side, her honey hair brushing over Sammie's sensitive groin, she stiffened as Phil thrust his middle finger into the tight hole with merciless force.
His searing probe made Carrie squirm, while fear mounted in her body as he bored through the buttery, resisting flesh up to the second knobby knuckle.
"Annnngggghhhh... ooowwwwggghhh..." she shrieked around Sammie's penis.
The tight flesh drew in with his cruel stab, and his fingers shook with rage. She squirmed, panting with lust and fear as he brutally forced his finger in deeper, twisting it in tormenting circles. Chuckling vengefully, his free hand pumped at his blood engorged penis. A lewd sound stung the air as he withdrew his finger from the pathetically stretched anal ring and replaced it with a seeping, bulbous head of his lust inflamed cock. His thick shaft lay in the crevice of her naked buttocks, lubricated with tiny beads of her own secretions. With a cruel yank, he spread her buttocks wider still, opening the raw split of her genitals completely.
Drawing a deep, strengthening breath, he felt an evil thrill shudder through him from the thought of watching her suck on a black boy's cock while he punished her by shoving his cock into her tender ass. His aim was straight and sure, making a beeline for the rubbery hole in the blonde fleeced crevice.
"NNNNNNGGGGHHH!" It was a scream heard round the city as the pounding cock burst like a bomb through the tightly clenched anal sphincter. A blast of atomic pain tore through her! Tears, self pity, nothing could console her agony. Struggling to shut it out of her mind, she concentrated on the silken feel of Sammie's cock slipping down her throat; but that was no consolation. The force of his cruelty was overwhelming the once heavenly feel of Stokley's penis grinding into her pussy.
Carrie ground into the mattress, humped back to twist her way free of his pillaging penis, but her grinding motions only incited her vengeful lover into hammering into her anus with brutal force. Grunting, he surged forward, sinking his blood heavy cock another five inches into her searing rectum.
"Pleeeeez... Nooooo!" she shrieked around Sammie's hot cock stabbing into her mouth.
But the force of Phil's cruel lunges only mashed her face tighter into Sammie's groin, at the same time sending her sprawling down on top of Stokley. Her breasts mashed down against Sammie's chest.
Watching the white teacher getting her fill was driving Stokley crazy! He rammed his throbbing black penis up into the steamy hole of her vagina while the white man on top of him squashed him nearly to death. No way was he going to let this white jerk out-do him!
Breath snorted from his nostrils as he felt himself closer to cumming!
Beneath him Carrie muffled a cry as Phil slammed into her anus until his cum bloated testicles slapped against her buttocks, slamming his balls punishingly into the taut black ones of Carrie's fourteen year-old lover. She cried and rocked from side to side from the excruciating agony of pain of body and soul. Captive of three men torturing her body to its limits. Every inch of her flesh was mauled and stroked by hot male flesh! Raping male flesh... virile male flesh!
But something was happening. The searing pain was lessening to a dull throb, a pleasant dull throb. The pain was turning to warm pleasure. Every inch of their virile cudgles scraping into her defenseless body fought for dominance Deep within her belly, Phil's white penis drubbing in battle against the thin membrane separating anus from vagina.
Black and white cocks fighting, struggling for dominance of her womanhood!
Deep within her female psyche, a sense of utter fulfillment rushed through her, bringing with it pleasure. Black and white filling her body in perfect rhythm and harmony. From the living room the strident orchestration of the Tempest playing on television rose above the naked grunts and groans. She closed her eyes as consciousness soared above the physical, entering a soulful platitude she had never known existed. Blissful and serene, she felt her body turn to rubber as they buffeted her, dominated her and tortured her.
Phil glared down at his lover's buttocks as they pillowed the meaty shaft of his ramming cock. He loved her and hated her at once. Black cock... let her have her black cock!
Carrie bucked up and around to give them all equal share of her flesh. From her slender ribcage, her breasts dangled, bobbing with the rhythm of their undulations. The pain in her tortured anus had numbed into a warm ache as he pounded into her from behind.
Scraping against each other, the three penises boxed against the thin membrane, punching inside her belly while the one from the front drilled deep into her throat as if trying to join the fight. The utter debasement, abuse of her flesh filled her with insane pleasure.
"Mmmmm... yes, yes... aaaahhhgg... " came her muffled cry around the seeping black cock gouging her tonsils. Her body and her mouth spoke the same language as she bucked and thrust her naked creaminess to accommodate their dueling penises. Suddenly the pleasure, the satisfaction of debasement came together in one lurching thrust that made her stiffen as if murdered from the jabbing penises stabbing her. A wild, star sprinkled orgasm overcame her.
"Aaannnggghhh!" came the cry from the depth of her soul.
The three men hammered into her, yanking at her body, bruising her with cruel fingers. All four screamed out a throaty groan in a primitive battle of the sexes and race! The female soprano, white and fulfilled, rose above the alto groans.
Carrie Osgood, the once virginal, shy woman, became a sex maddened nymphomaniac.
Insane from the fiery need within her body and soul, she arched her sweat sheened back and ground her buttocks against the two penises ramming into her genitals while she sucked with vacuuming pressure on Sammie's virility. Convulsing like an epileptic, she opened every pore of her body to the three raping men. Behind her, Phil hammered into her anus until he was sure he'd split her bowel open wide.
Christ, lean feel that black prick inside her cunt, he thought, mesmerized by his own power and ramming into her with an ass flattening lunge to fight back the younger man's banging into her cervix.
Stokley kept up his pace, sensing that the angered boyfriend would cum soon. Hell, white men ain 'got no stamina. He clawed at her swollen breasts while banging into her cervix with the slimy tip of his black penis. Sensing his balls ache and throb from pints of hot, creamy sperm, the pressure built... and built until he clenched his teeth around Carrie's left nipple, nearly biting it off. She responded with a deep throated groan of masochistic pleasure. That set him off. The sperm gushed from his young penis, splashing into her womb.
Between Phil and Sammie, Carrie tossed and twisted, knowing that Sammie had lost the dominance. She sucked ravenously on Sammie's penis until her lips were nub and bleeding at the corners. Her efforts were worth the price. With one wild yelp, Sammie plunged down her throat and splashed a load of salty semen into her gullet, and yet she sucked, gulping down the slimy strings while Phil threw back his head and with one final shove, spurt his vengeful load into the hot cringing hole of her anus. Orgasm after shattering orgasm shuddered through her body. Breath tore from her panting lungs, her breasts throbbed visibly, reddened from their mauling possession of her. Mouth, belly, vagina and anus filled with oozing male cum.
Blood singing in her ears, eyes blurring of vision, she felt nothing except the rushing torrents of white male nectar filling her, swelling her passages. Her body seemed to absorb it, swallow it up, draw it into her very being. The warm flood spilled from her puckered anus, oozed from her ravaged cunt and bathed her gullet. She felt a coolness then, as the three men pulled their deflated penises from her with wet low sucking sounds.
The mattress creaked as they lifted their weight off her leaving her alone, sobbing, goosebumped and empty.
"Wh-what you gonna do?" stammered Stokley, standing next to the ashen faced white man whose gun lay on the bed an easy hand grab away.
Phil took a moment to answer. "Don't worry... I an' stupid enough to shoot a nigger kid.
Get dressed and get the hell out of here."
He didn't have to say it twice. The boys left in a rush, leaving Phil Carmichael and his once lovely virginal wife-to-be embattled in the after stages of unreconcilable bitterness. A long, examining stare and Phil pulled on his clothes, his back hunched in disillusionment.
Steady fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt.
"I loved you once, and was willing to change my life for you. You were pure then. Men are fools sometimes. It takes a couple of hard knocks to set our heads straight... you knocked me for a loop, Carrie... oh, boy, did you. Go back to your black boys... the black cock you love so well. I want no part of you."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sweat cooled on Cederick's back, the night air cloying at his sheened flesh with an intensity equal to the vague apprehension and dread swimming in his confused brain.
Blood pounded in his chest and his nostrils flared. His ears sang but not from the chirp of cicadas. A strange feeling, depthless and haunting, shuddered through him. For the first time he realized he did not trust his black brothers any more than the violent murderer of Atlanta. An emptiness and longing for truth made him dizzy. He balled up his fists, cursing under his breath Sammie and Stokley for accepting so cheap a bribe from Rose.
Two blocks away from Miss Osgood's apartment complex, he skirted the hedges cautiously, creeping like a jungle cat, eyes dilated and predatory leveled on the yellow Toyota parked haphazardly outside the stucco apartment building. Hunkering down, he watched a tall blond haired man throw himself behind the wheel and streak tire burns as he tore off to disappear around the corner. Only then did Cederick creep up the steps of Carrie's apartment building, scurrying the last five as a patrol car pulled up to the curb.
Five trembling knuckles rose to hammer on the door when he noticed a stream of light under the door. Cautiously, eyes peeled on the door to the outside, he shouldered open Carrie's door and stepped inside. From the bedroom wafted low wailings of misery.
Closing the door behind him, he neared the bedroom and peeked into see his high school teacher laying naked in a rumpled bed, the smell of sex heavy in the air, fairly steaming from the soiled white sheets haphazardly pulled about her white limbs as if in haste to cover her nudity.
Carrie's tear stained face lifted from the pillow. Her eyes were swollen and puffy.
"Miz Osgood?"
Carrie emitted a long cry that accompanies the shock of revelation. A tiny fist flew to her mouth, frightened eyes darting deer-like over her students' face, sheened with sweat and concern.
"It be all right, Miz Osgood. I know what my brothers done to ya... Rose tol' me..." Clumsily, he shifted his weight from left foot to right and back again. He scratched his curly black head, searching for the right words, the explanation to set right an ill situation that was not his responsibility. He squinted at her, studying the red welts and when his eyes fell on the silver barrel of the abandoned gun, his heart pounded and his thoughts straightened.
"Should I call the cops... are ya hurt bad?" He swallowed down the bile of hatred, yet a tingle of nerve wracking tightening in his lower belly betrayed better, more holy intentions as his dark eyes riveted on the rich, swollen swells of her melonous breasts dangling temptingly from her slender ribcage. His mind fled back to the episode in the yellow Toyota when first he'd seen the spherical perfection of her body. He regretted that now, wishing he could erase the lusty ugliness with a more tender concern for her womanhood.
"No... no, I'm okay... " Carrie swept back the damp strands of honey hair from her forehead with a trembling hand. "I'll be all right... " She didn't shiver or scream with dread when his tennis shoes made soundless imprints on the thick bedroom carpeting. His weight descended upon the bed and yet she did not cower. A warm arm slipped about her naked shoulders, pulling her down supine on the rumpled bed, damp with sweat and sperm. Lips, warm and soft, tender pressed against her clammy forehead. Dark fingers pressed into her flesh, drawing her close to his chest. She could hear his heart pound behind the tight cotton T-shirt.
"I'm sorry they did that to ya... God, I'm sorry," he choked boyishly with manly concern. He was speaking for himself and half of Atlanta when he confessed: "I can't undo what they done... I can only say we don' all feel like that... we don't all hate ya." He stroked her forehead tenderly. "I don' want ya to leave, Miz Osgood... down deep inside ain' nobody in tha' class wants ya to leave Washington 'cept for Rose and that's because she be a ghetto bitch... "
The unexpected tenderness made Carrie's eyes sting with tears. "I don't want to leave either, Cederick... " she choked.
"Then don'... don't go... You taught us somethin' in the soc'ology class we ain' never heard before." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a tattered paperback novel and flopped "The Destruction of Violence" on the rumpled bed. "Too bad we ain' taught you nothin' cause you taught us hope and trust."
Carrie blinked back hot, salty tears. She sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. Between her silken thighs the nest of her swollen vaginal lips throbbed needfully.
Her hand clamped over his thickly muscled knee and she pressed her cheek to his chest, stretching upward to press her swollen naked breasts against the strength of his muscles. "You've taught me about me, Cederick, what I need as a woman... what I need to give and what I need to receive," she whispered thickly, easing him down on her bed and opening the palms of her hands to run up the sinewy length of his arms to squeeze the bulging mounds of his youthful biceps. Her lips pressed against his. She knew what she needed and she would take it, if only from a fourteen year-old boy.