She had only enough time to pick up this account and then rush back to the office for the afternoon's appointments. Life as a pre-law student had been hard enough, she thought; why had she so eagerly grasped this position on the staff of the college president, Mr. Streams was beyond her understanding at this moment. This was supposedly her lunch hour, and here she was in the college library, shelf D 312 on the third floor to be exact, looking for some obscure book under the heading of Corporate Law in Oregon Courts. There was already more than a little perspiration on her brow in this midsummer heat.
She knew that ever since she had started this new job three weeks ago she had been noticing more perspiration on her body with each new day. She couldn't be sure if it was the added work and strain or the encroaching summer that was causing her to feel more flush. Sheila had begun her work in high spirits, hopeful of sharing in the exciting social life that surrounded the people that worked for the college. But here she was, not even able to have her own lunch hour to wander around in, busy with paper work as she kept thinking as she ran her pale fingers over the stacks of litigations in the files in front of her, she was working for a college president and her efforts, she naively assumed, were helping him to make better decisions in the molding of college policy.
There it was: a heavy manila folder which she quickly drew out of the file, recording its number on her withdrawal slip, and folded it into her arms along with her other papers. Turning to leave she noticed that her presence had been observed-two rather tall blacks dressed in jeans and open collar shirts quickly turned their heads back to some papers they were reading-and she guessed that they were clerks working for the library who were only staring at her as she had just bent over to pick up the file. No wonder, she thought, her legs were very beautiful and she knew it. That is why she spent so much money on panty-hose since her miniskirts exposed so much more of her legs; she wondered if the grey hose she was wearing now matched the pale blue of her cotton blouse. Like all women who are young and sexually stimulating she didn't realize that it was the living and breathing aspect of her flesh alone that attracted men and not the pretty colors of the clothing she chose to wear.
She walked steadily on through the C and D sections of the files, her large breasts bouncing ever so slightly beneath the blue fabric of her top. Because she had a small face and a small body certain features of her body, such as her long flaming red hair, seemed larger in size than they really were. Standing only five feet one inches tall, there was a fragile looking fullness to her body. Her pure white skin and scattered fields of freckles, visible now only on her face and neck and arms, made her seem frail while the firm nature of her breasts and hips spoke of strength and feminine perfection.
She had only reached the stairwell at the end of the hall when suddenly a big black hand shot out in front of her face and brutally wrenched her head back, sweaty fingers covering her mouth. She felt something snap in her neck and, falling backwards off balance, she could feel a pair of strong arms lock tightly around her waist. The other man walked around in front of her and giggled nervously as the first started dragging her panic stricken form over to a corner of the library. She tried to break free of the man's grasp but he only wrenched her arm around her back and twisted until she whimpered from the pain.
Through her eyes already moist with tears she could see the man in front of her pull open the door to a closet and then they both gathered up her trembling form and threw her crumpled onto a forest of mops and cleaning buckets. Closing and locking the door, they jumped on her before she could even raise her arms. They held her down on the floor of the closet for what seemed an eternity, encircling her waist and her legs with their arms and stuffing a rag into her mouth to keep her screams from being heard. Her head spun with claustrophobic sickness as she felt their legs grasping around hers with slow, disgusting movements. She wanted to scream, to lash out and hit them with all the energy her fear and shock could muster, but she was powerless, pinned to the concrete floor, the fabric of her dress being slowly rubbed back and forth, hands pushing off her shoes and running up and down her stockings. They kept squeezing her, these four hungry hands, as if she were meat. She pulled her head away, moaned and writhed and twisted as much as she could under their weight, trying to make them stop pushing against her so hard, but her every movement only seemed to make them squeeze against her harder, only made their breathing rougher and their thrustings more urgent.
"Now baby, now baby" a voice whispered hoarsely at her in the darkness. Her sobs grew louder as a pair of hands stroked her breasts and pushed their soft fullness against her chest. Now her stomach was being softly rubbed as cold hands slowly began to undo the buttons on the front of her blouse. They seemed to want to torture her forever, she thought, why didn't they just get it over with? She could feel the fingertips of the one who was unbuttoning gently stroke the space between her breasts and her bra. They were lying on either side of her now, each pair of their legs grasped tightly around one of hers, each of their manhoods grinding slowly into her thighs.
She struggled some more, trying to buck them off of her, and then went wild with fear and rolled and twisted until she felt something hard fall into her hand. It was a broom handle! She lashed out wildly with the handle, hitting one of the men on the head. He swore under his breath and then ripped the handle from her hands and slapped her hard just above her right cheek. The pain rippled through her, ending all of her resistance.
Now they were tired of teasing her. They both sat up on their knees and ripped away at her dress and the straps of her bra, tearing away what protection these thin garments had given her. They pulled her legs down and stretched them outward, spread-eagling her on the floor. She could hear their belts unsnap and the quick movements of their jeans as they quickly stepped out of them. One of the men jumped down and grasped her panties and shredded the nylon and caught her hair painfully as he wrenched the stretch material out from under her hips. Instantly his fingers speared her vagina and spread apart her labia, causing her ass to quiver and jump with the pain. Her knees were wrenched open as the sweating hulk of a man came down on top of her and stabbed at her with his iron hard prick. He finally forced his way into her after he grabbed the balls of her ass in his hands and squeezed her body upward onto his. Mercilessly he thrust into her with quick pounding motions-she felt as if her cunt were being beaten into a pulp, her entire body aching as his grunting body slammed her hips and legs onto the hard concrete.
Each time he moved into her he grasped her buttocks in his hands and thrust them upwards onto his hungry cock. She could feel the pain in her back as his hands forced her body to crumple up in the tight confines of the closet. The pain of his penetrating was unbearable, and yet her body seemed to be functioning as if this was a normal lovemaking session. Her canal began to secrete juices to aid in his movements, and her hips and legs began to move in rhythm. She moaned when he plunged deep within her and held it there for a moment, content with filling her entire body with his cock. Now her cries were not only from pain. He slowed his movements to match her timid thrustings towards him. Her mind was delirious with pain and this new pleasure confused her to the point of insanity. Now she stiffened with his thrusts, letting more of her body become heated with passion, letting her legs wrap around his strong heaving back. Her arms swung over his shoulders and pulled his face down towards hers; her hands gripped his shoulder blades and her fingernails scratched his muscles as she began to thrash about the floor with abandoned moans and whimperings.
She was just on the point of coming, she could feel the white heat growing within her, when suddenly he lifted himself up slightly with his arms and by turning her hips moved her over onto her side. He held her tightly and licked at her breasts, suckling the nipples with his lips and feeling them stiffen with excitement. She rested her head on the floor and let him touch her, feeling that she was indeed giving herself to him.
Suddenly she awoke from her passive state when she felt the second man lie down behind her and hold out his hard penis in his hand, attempting to guide it into her anus. She started to breathe harder and became aware once again of the rag forced into her mouth; she wanted to scream as the man behind her forced his cock into her other hole without hesitating even for a moment to allow her tissues to accommodate his huge size. Her hole was torn open and she could feel the pain almost force her unconscious. Her head lolled about from side to side as the man jabbed quicker and quicker into her, twisting her breasts with his hands at the same time. The pain began to pulsate through her brain. Her hands and feet quivered as the two men now fucking her together hastened toward their climax. They were straining and moaning themselves now, snapping their backs in and out, pushing their cocks into the both sides of her, impaling her body on their twin spears. Then for one brief moment she lost control as two sudden spasms on either side of her jack knifed her head into the closet wall. She passed quickly into the white painless world of unconsciousness as hot streams of semen and cunt juice trickled out onto the closet floor.
* * *
"Do you think that she could describe us?"
"No way, man. You saw how preoccupied she was before we grabbed her."
"Yeah, but when you went to open the door I wasn't covering her eyes you know."
"Oh, come on, let's face it man, there's only one thing she could tell anyone about us."
"What's that?"
"How good we fuck."
"Stop the jive man, I'm worried!"
Jeff Jones had good reason to be worried. Anyone who had served two years for armed robbery had good reason to worry, even about something as mundane as jaywalking. And here he was, teamed up with this crazy Harley dude, working for a little cadre that he and some of the more faithful of his friends had cooked up: raping women. At least a twenty to life rap considering his previous record. But he was enjoying himself, he sniggered as he drank his beer, he was having one hell of a good time. Something that two years of loneliness and frustration against the Man had prepared him well for. If only he didn't have to be teamed up with this nut Harley; he could blow the whole thing on one job and that was one thing Jones couldn't risk. He had managed to make his position pretty clear to the other fellows; he wasn't going to get busted because of someone else's mistake; he told them all that if something happened to him due to someone's "carelessness" he would be back to more than even the score. Harley would have to go. He would bring up the subject of Harley's expulsion from the group at the next meeting, Frank and some of the others had already hinted to Jeff that the joyboys like Harley were necessary at this stage of this operation, just because they were weirdo's and would scare the victims more than the solid operators like Jeff. Jeff could understand that. Look at how Harley canned that Sheila Ostraganger in the library-she would have to be hospitalized after a going over like that. Yes, Harley's type would be effective in these early stages. The press boys and the politicos had to believe that these attacks were more for vengeance than for free sex. He hated having to work with the man, however; he was just too weird, too bent up. He could have killed that secretary yesterday; that was one reason Jeff was so worried. There was nothing at all in the newspapers; that meant only one of two things-either she was all right and didn't report it because she was ashamed or she had died and the police were keeping a lid on the whole thing until they ran down the trails that the few clues they might have would lead them on.
Harley and Jeff kept on drinking their beers in silence for a few more moments. They were sitting in a coffee shop near college; in fact, it was the college Jeff was registered at, part of his cover identity while he was a member of the cadre. Harley liked this coffee shop, there were plenty of college girls sitting around with their minis on and not much else. He complemented Jeff on his good taste. Harley didn't know anything about the girl they had raped in the library yesterday. He would have been more than a little surprised to learn that Jeff knew her name as well as her address, where she worked and, more important, who she worked for. All Harley knew was that old buddy Jeff sure knew how to set up a good lay, the kind that he liked. Harley's eyes were beginning to grow hungrier as he peered into the darkness surrounding the tables and watched a couple of chicks sipping their drinks oh so slowly while they kept crossing and uncrossing their legs, always revealing a bit of the thigh that the stockings did not cover. Harley nudged Jeff in the elbow and motioned over to where the two girls were sitting.
"No, man. I've had my fill."
"Well Jeff Baby, I'll check you later. It's about to do some cruising, if you know what I mean." Harley stood up, laid down a dollar, and wandered over to the table with the legs. Jeff felt relieved that he was going. Sometimes just being around that guy made his skin crawl. He turned and with a quick movement grabbed Harley's arm.
"Don't do anything until you hear from me, okay Harley, and remember also that you've never heard of me in case anybody asks."
Harley looked frightened.
"Yah, sure. Cool down, will ya Jeff. Listen sweetheart nothing's wrong. That chick had a good time. Ten to One she's on the east side looking for some more black cock. Heh heh, I'll bet she just can't get over it."
Jeff relaxed his grip and forced a smile.
"Sure, Harley. They all have to learn the hard way. See you later."
Jeff put down his own dollar and strode out of the coffee shop. His car was only about twenty feet away from the front door, a shiny red Jaguar that had cost him dearly to keep in shape. He looked around the intersection where the bar was located and peered across the street at the campus, now shrouded in faint light from the street lamps. Every time he looked at the campus he thought of his first old lady, the one he had met just last year at this very same campus. She had seemed a dream at first, coming in his life when she did, after long years of wondering even what a woman's voice sounded like. The only friend he had had in juvenile hall that he still knew was Frank; Frank he believed in and love-in his own way, but there was a different commitment with Sadatha, something that ran deeper than revolution and race. She was a woman with all of the qualities that had ennobled women from time immemorial; she was beautiful and intelligent in a way that only a woman could be; she commanded respect and from Jeff Jones she got the full measure. She would be glad to see him.
He parked the car in the carport and walked around to the front of the house. There were a few lights on in the living room; she would be home. When she came to open the door she was wearing a long Ugandan robe of red and iridescent purple. Her short natural gleamed in the light of the hallway, and her shoulders gleamed also where the fabric fell away. Jeff was stunned momentarily by her beauty-her large perfect blue-brown eyes and perfectly sculptured face. Recovering slightly he greeted her and stepped into the hallway. It was always easy to see how Sadatha had made such a good living as a fashion model; her body was perfect, a Nubian goddess.
Even before he had finished his first drink he felt perfectly relaxed; his coat was draped over a sofa and his shirt had been partly unbuttoned by Sadatha's lilting fingers. She leaned over like a mother hen, supplying and satisfying his every need and desire. Her breasts, full and round although not too large, hung just slightly away from her body as she hovered over him. Their conversation was on the light side; talking about the weather and the new drapes and things like that. He could feel the soft heat radiate from her body. He had not touched her yet since the hello kiss in the doorway, and now he began to feel those silent urgings that pushed and aroused his sexuality. He wanted to wrap an arm around her slim, gaily clad figure and feel her heat in his arms.
As she moved about the room he watched her legs push aside the fabric with a gentle shushing noise, noticing her ankles glint in the room light as they stuck out beyond the fabric with her walking. Her hips were wrapped in billows of the material-it was impossible to tell how large or small they were, but Jeff remembered them quite well seeing as how he had spent so much of his passion between them. The music and the drinks made him lie back further into the couch; Sadatha, finding herself without any errands to do, came over and sat down next to him, leaning her perfect face against his chest. For a long while they lay there like that, listening to the music and saying an idle word now and then. Almost asleep, they listened to their heartbeats and felt a deep peace and contentment envelope them. Outside, the noises of the city receded into the distance as the hour grew later.
Finally, without a word between them, she leaned up and looked deeply into his strong, craggy face. He leaned over to touch his lips to hers. She responded, touching his lightly in return at first and then pressing against him, urgently, trying to open his lips with her tongue. It took only that swift movement to arouse Jeff completely, his prick stiffening against his jeans. Sadatha turned slightly, pressing her breasts against him, moving herself around in little circles against his massive chest. Her fingers started working on the rest of the buttons of his shirt, but his hand came up and held hers as he pressed his kiss even harder against her. Then, gently he moved her head away from his and stared at her, smiling with happiness and warmth.
"Sleepy?" she said.
"Uh-huh," he answered.
"I think Momma is going to bed." Her eyes twinkled. She looked as if she were just about to tickle someone.
"Well I think Poppa ought to tuck you in, don't you?" he said, smiling back at her.
"I don't know what her boyfriend would say."
"He would probably say something cute but dumb like 'I think Poppa ought to tuck you in', wouldn't you say."
"Yes," standing up now, she held his hand and helped him off the couch, "cute but dumb."
Inside the bedroom, he lay on the soft mattress watching her lift the folds of bright colored fabric up over her knees and then carefully fold it in her hands as she lifted it higher over her thighs to reveal a pair of white panties. He groaned somewhere deep down inside of him as he watched her turn toward the closet and lift the fabric the rest of the way up over her head. She was not wearing a bra, but being turned towards the closet he could not see those perfectly shaped breasts. Only her thighs and the panties outlining her delicate flesh were exposed to his gaze. He followed the line down from the bottom of her panties to the back of her knees, a little tuft of black hair poked out of the edge of the panties where her crack was. Her thighs tapered down just perfectly, she was definitely the kind of women some men might wait an entire lifetime for. He was now so aroused that he began swallowing; he couldn't remove his eyes from her. After hanging up the gown, she turned to look at him and smiled slightly, her breasts heaving up and down slightly in expectation. Slowly she walked over to the edge of the bed, to where he was lying down waiting for her. When she got close he reached out and hooked one of his arms around her kneecap, bending her leg toward him. When she knelt slightly to accommodate him, he leaned over and started to kiss the inside of her thighs, feeling the hot flesh soften under his lips gentle prodding. She giggled and straightened, eluding his grasp, and stepped backward to remove her panties.
Both of her hands came down and held her panties at either side, then she drew them down slightly and bent one leg up, then pulled them down the rest of the way, past her knees, down over her feet. The black triangle of pubic hair covered her mons veneris completely, covering her treasures from any man's gaze. Jeff could almost smell its enticing fragrance from where he was sitting up on the bed.
As he lurched towards her she put her hand out and deftly sidestepped him and got into the other side of the bed. He kissed her once lightly and then stood up to remove his clothing. As he was pulling down his pants he looked quickly over to where Sadatha was resting and thought he could see some furtive movement over her pubic area. Then as he looked closer he could see the shape of an arm rise from the area of her thighs under the bedclothes. She looked embarrassed, but he smiled at her reassuringly and she placed her hand back over the area of her slit. As he peeled off his underwear he could see (out of the corner of his eye so as not to embarrass her again) small quick movements under the sheets and her mouth opening and closing with self-stimulated animal heat.
He slipped into the covers and faced her. Instantly she reached for him, encircling his body with her arms as she pressed her now slightly wet sex against him. He thrust his stout prick up at her stomach gently and planted wet, burning kisses over her face and eyelids, neck and shoulders. Already she was moaning slightly, breathing in short bursts and pressing her loins harder against his prick. It was she who pulled him down on top of her, she who eagerly lay upon her back while arching her hips further upward, further closer to their penetration.
Jeff used his hand edgewise over her wet slit, rubbing his little finger up and down the full length of her cunt, slowly arousing the labia to open wider and stiffen, preparing the way for savage blows. Only when she had gasped his name twice did he direct just two of his fingers to cradle her clitoris, teasing it and squeezing it in tempo with her breathing. Her hips began to buck slightly up and down, her body twisting and turning with hidden fires torturing her flesh. He used one arm to turn down the covers and the other to turn his body upwards and over to where her hips were aching for his cock. She stopped her breathing as if startled, not knowing what he was going to do. His face dropped lower and closer to her crack; she looked at him expectantly, eagerly, hoping he would begin again and not stop right in the middle of everything. He kissed her pubic hair and then eased his tongue down over her swollen cunt lips, seeking and finding the hardened clitoris. He sucked on her for endless minutes, watching, over her pussy, her face twisting on the pillow, her breasts heaving and body twisting with ecstasy. Her moans became louder and suddenly she jerked her head up and looked down at him, at his feverish tongue, and she put her hand on top of his head as if to make him stop. When he wouldn't she tangled his hair in her fingers and pulled on his head, forcing his tongue to quit. He looked up from her wetness and smell and saw her face, seemingly glowing and panting with erotic heat. There was a look of happiness in her eyes, of joy that she had a man like Jeff who could make her cream like that. But she wanted his manhood now, she wanted to be more than just sexually excited, she wanted to be possessed by his body, she wanted herself to be open to him like a flower with his huge prick penetrating into her very soul. She wanted him to push that hairy organ way up into her body, as far as he could force it.
Jeff got up on his knees and elbows and brutally forced Sadatha's legs apart under him. Then he fell on her as she opened her arms and legs to swallow his body into hers. His prick found her wet slit without guidance and he grunted with pleasure as he lunged with terrific force up into her waiting body. She screamed with this first filling of her vagina, the pleasure was too much for her. Her fingernails dug into his flesh and drew blood. Again he reared up above her and hung there poised for a second and then plunged into her tightening depths. Again Sadatha's mouth opened and screamed, her very being thoroughly violated by this man's massive, unyielding penis. Her back arched up under him and her face lay under his shoulder when he drove himself into her for a third time. Now her hips began to follow his upwards to their full-length of travel, now they were locked together, her body just a fraction of an inch away from his as he pulled out and then plunged in again. It seemed as if the very walls of her vagina were doing the moving in and out, her body stayed glued to his and yet the pleasure he received from feeling his prick move into and out of her was thundering. And all the while her body was tightening under him, her breasts squeezed against him with all the force her body could muster, her limbs greedily reaching out and drawing his body into every part of hers. His prick lunged with her screams two more times, and then he speeded up his thrustings.
Her breath now came in spasms of sound, soft cooings that came out of her at the same rate as Jeff's pounding hips. Every cell in her body was electrified and overcharging, the overwhelming wave of her first climax almost upon her. Jeff began to feel his face contort with the pleasure of her body disintegrating beneath him. Her movements were wild-legs and arms thrashing about on the bed, hips bucking wildly up at him not caring about his own tempo. Her moans grew again into screams, quicker now as they approached the end. With one lunge into her, then slowing down for another, he could feel the white hot tip of his prick gorge itself with sperm about to explode, her voice now continuous deep throated screams as he rushed into her for one last great joining, her head bent backwards away from him as she tightened for one last time under him, his cock pulsing deep within her, forcing load after load of hot come up into her.
She stopped kissing him to let her arms fall by her side, his leg hanging loosely over hers. He fell asleep with his arm over the side of the bed.
* * *
Frank Simmons was not the type of man you messed around with if you could help it. Standing over 6'5" tall and wearing a bristling beard and moustache, surprising on a young man of only nineteen years, which only made him look more threatening, Simmons had the look of a man who could lift up a car with one hand behind his back. Many had been the white man who had tangled with him, and many had been the times that Frank had to go to juvenile detention because of it. Although really only engaging in what could be called small time thefts and penny ante numbers, Frank had nevertheless managed to serve over five years of his life in four different "correctional" institutions. And yet if you ever had the chance to speak with the man you would have found him a soft-spoken, obviously concerned individual. It was Frank's great gift in life that he could dedicate his efforts and his time towards a cause. His was the birthright of the true revolutionary, a man of wide-ranging vision and foresight, a man also with courage and tenacity in the face of overwhelming odds. Because he was black he had found a great injustice in our society; because he was Frank Simmons he had determined to do something to correct that injustice.
Jeff Jones revered the man-he considered Simmons to be one of the greatest men he had ever had the privilege to meet. He could still remember vividly the day in Louston Hall for Juveniles that he had heard of this man Simmons in the recreation yard. Simmons was conducting a class in Afro-American History, or at least that's what the guards thought it was. Actually Simmons was already building up his forces, instilling revolutionary aims and guide-lines, testing his students until he could be sure of his loyalties. Jones had gone to the class on the advice of a friend, and quickly found out the true nature of Simmons's work with his students. The men became close friends as well, realizing that their release dates coincided both within a month of the other, knowing that once on the outside they could really effect some change in the communities. Jones had no idea then of how truly grandiose Simmons's plans would be, nor how brilliant the man really was.
This morning they were both sitting across from the other at a table of a small donut shop, looking for all the world like a pair of garbage truck drivers stopping off for some coffee on their way to work. It had been a week since the Ostraganger rape in the college library; time enough to gauge its effects on the administrative community of the college. During these first phases of Frank's plan the effects of each rape would be minimal, but as the weeks of spring wore on and as the rapes became more widespread and more insidious in nature, certain of the college administrators would be informed as to the true nature of the plot. These men would be forced to give rather radical political concessions to the black community without arousing any suspicion over their motivations. That was the brilliant part of the plan-to force major political changes without letting anybody but a few powerful men (whose silence would be guaranteed after Frank got through with them) know who was behind it all. But for now the two men had to measure the effects of their first rape: the secretary of Mr. Streams, Sheila Ostraganger.
Streams was their first target. Although not really a racist nor a liberal, Streams did control the faculty senate; in fact his vote alone could decide an issue one way or the other, and the faculty senate was one of the key points in Frank's plan to force certain changes in the direction of the college. It was important that the women surrounding Streams be worked over early; they wanted him to be terrified of the "black gang" that "obviously" had picked out his female acquaintances. Streams had to be forced early in the game to follow through with Frank's plans; Streams also had to be convinced that the "gang" was invincible, that they could not be caught, and this was where the risk of the play lay-in not getting caught. This required weeks, often months, of planning behind every single attack. Planning that would be carried out by a few of Frank's most trusted lieutenants. Once everyone agreed that the plan of attack was foolproof, they would set up the attack, often with men like Harley participating, men who had no idea of the true complexity behind their actions.
Sheila did survive (she suffered only slight internal damage) and she did report the crime to the police, who in turn notified Streams. Since Sheila had been watched ever since she had returned to work, Frank knew certain results of the attack. Mr. Streams had taken her out to lunch a number of times during the week-this was considered a good sign. Obviously Sheila and Streams were becoming more closely acquainted since she suffered the attack. This meant that Streams sympathized with the woman and that also he may have felt some responsibility for the crime. As more and more of the women in Streams's life were raped, he would feel more responsibility until he knew that he was the target of the rapists, and not the women and girls who had been attached.
Frank dunked another donut into his coffee and smiled at Jones. Jones, the smaller of the two men, smiled back. Today there would be some more action. Jeff could feel his long cock stretch out in between his legs, as if it already knew what was going to happen, as if it was already anxious for some more white pussy. Frank wasn't telling him just who it was going to be, but he had already hinted that there would be two girls this time, one for each. Frank started to laugh through his teeth as he was watching Jeff.
"Hah, heh ... you're already hungry, ain't you Jeff?"
"Yah, I guess so. It's been a while. I do need to get something on, yes sir Frank my man, I'm ready." Frank looked at his watch and motioned with his fingers that they had ten more minutes before they should hit the road.
"You see that billboard over there, Jeffrey? The one with the blonde and lipstick, that big bottle of beer?" His hand was pointing across the street to the top of a small office building, on top of which was an ad with a big, busty knockout type of blonde all made out to kill holding a bottle of beer in her hand. Her smile left little room for doubt over what was running through her mind at the moment.
"Yah, nice tits."
"Yes, nice big impossible ones, the all-American dream cream machine. Every goddamn white woman there is on this earth is just supposed to lying there waiting in heat for her tall handsome white man. You ever wonder how come I picked rape as our weapon, Jeff?"
Jeff lit up a cigarette while Frank was talking and thought for a second about Frank's question. "It hits white society where it hurts. It's easy and inexpensive for us to pull off. It's just one hell of a lot of fun."
"You're close enough, Jeff. Our great white fathers decided long ago that they were going to be the brains of the outfit and that we, the lowly black coons, were going to be the body, the muscles that did the heavy work. So we were sent out into the fields while our white brothers became the administrators, making sure everything went along smoothly. Of course the white man wanted his own women to be the beautiful ones, the bitches who never had to do heavy work but just had to lay around painting themselves waiting for white cock. And the black woman? Well, you know about Aunt Jemima; black women were supposed to work hard too, none of this easy luxury for them. The white man and the black man struck this bargain, if you could call it that, centuries ago, and each in their own sick way followed the pattern more or less until this century. Then the black man, the body, began to cause trouble. It was his rod, the one part of the body that the white man couldn't control, that started it. White men began to notice that they didn't think too much of their own cocks, that they began to feel inferior to the black rod, so they tried another deal, another administrative reorganization. The black man would still be the body, but the black woman would now service the white man's prick as well as the black man's, and the white bitches would of course be off limits, forbidden fruit. You know how many of our black sisters have to pull white tricks to make the bread. You know that this shit is still going on."
Frank's brown eyes seemed to come on fire when he talked like this, Jeff thought. It's like he's trying to explain something to me, something he knows real well, deep down like, and he has to make sure that I understand, that I dig it. I know that I don't think as much as that man nor do I have it all figured out like he does, but I feel one and the same with him, I just know in my bones that this man is right, that the white bitch and honky bastard have set things up over us just like he says, and that we are going to tear it down, brick by brick, just like he says.
CHAPTER TWO
The big red Jaguar shot down the highway at top speed, heading for the suburbs, encountering very little traffic in the morning rush hour since they were going out of the city and not into it. Frank had told him to drive to Bonert Heights, a rather wealthy community on the very outskirts of the city, well into the Virginia state line. Frank sat in the passenger's seat, his big frame scrunched up behind the leather dashboard, cigarette dangling from his lips. Jeff noticed that Frank was drumming his fingers in nervousness on the arm rest.
"I think you can tell me now, Frank."
"Nope, I want you to be surprised. And believe me, you're going to be surprised."
Jeff felt worried. It wasn't like Frank to be so shook up, no matter what was happening. This must be a hairy one for sure then if it's got even Frank a little jumpy. Glad he hasn't told me.
A tall redheaded woman was walking on the sidewalk below the highway ramp, strutting her stuff with pride. Jeff watched her hips swish through her pleated skirt, two fine legs moving together down the sidewalk. She made him think of Sheila, another redhead with fine legs. Sheila had been nice-a small woman with a tight pussy but with hot legs, legs that really could bring it all out of a man. He kept thinking about the way she felt on the floor, so immoveable, just pinned there underneath his rod, the way she spread her hips open every time he plunged into her and pushed her hard down onto the concrete. Just thinking about her gave him a stiff cock, snaking its way down one of his pant legs. She had tried to do it with him; after the shock and pain, and even being totally freaked as she was, her body at least knew how to respond to him. He couldn't help wondering if she had come, if she hadn't really dug the whole experience. But then he remembered the second man in that closet, Harley. He remembered how it felt having another dude just hanging in there right next to him. Cramped his style somewhat, he couldn't concentrate; he kept wondering what that asshole Harley was doing while he was reaming out the bitch. And Jeff remembered the way he had fucker her, almost breaking her back open when he ripped into her ass, twisting and pulling on her tits like he wanted to pull them off. He wondered what was wrong with Harley that he had to do that, to just plunge into a woman for a few quick heavy thrusts and maul her while he was doing it, to just come quick and practically kill the woman he was fucking. What made Harley do it? Sure she was a white bitch and even Jeff hated the white woman, but not like that. Harley had something wrong in his head, something that made him a psycho with women. He hoped that he wouldn't have to see Harley in action much more.
He looked over at Frank, still smoking and tapping his fingers, and casually wondered what it would be like to fuck someone with Frank. To gang bang the same chick. But that wouldn't happen today; Frank had already said that they would both have their hands full at the same time.
"Get off at the next off ramp," said Frank, putting out his cigarette and leaning slightly forward to get a better view of the road.
"Now turn up this street to the right and turn left at McCadden Place."
Jeff noticed that the houses were getting up into the hundred thousand dollar range. Big ornate houses with front lawns the size of half a normal city block. No wonder Frank was nervous, the two of them stuck out like a sore thumb in a neighborhood like this.
"Ok, now Jeff, we're going after two girls. We've had it all figured out that they are alone in the house for a couple of hours only on this day of the week. This is the day that their 'colored' maid has to take her invalid father to the clinic so the girls have to fend for themselves for a few hours." Jeff could plainly hear the bitterness in Frank's voice when he said the word "colored". Frank was really going to be ready today.
The car shot up the street and Jeff couldn't help but keep an eye out the rear view mirror. As much as he had confidence in Frank's planning he knew that sometimes things just didn't happen the way you wanted them too.
"Slow down, turn into the third driveway on the left and don't stop until you've driven all the way around in back of the house. When you get there just sit in the car while I get out and knock on the back door. I've already got this real estate jive speech ready in case there is someone here that we don't want to be here."
Jeff was just slowing down the car when Frank grabbed his arm and shouted: "Jeeeeeesus, this must be our lucky day. There they are, up on the next street, and it looks like they're hitch-hiking."
Jeff drove on up to the next block slowly, trying to get a damn good look at the two chicks on the corner, one of them leaning against the street lamp and the other with one foot on the curb, her thumb sticking out. Frank said that they were only 21 and 22 years old, but they looked pretty big to him. At least their T-shirts made their fronts look pretty big. As the car got closer, Jeff could see that they were almost identical twins, with that soft, silky brown hair that you could only find on a young chick. One of them just had a pair of cut-offs on, and Jeff could see that her legs were real nice, not very long but definitely shapely. They almost seemed pudgy-like since her ass didn't really stick out all that much from behind her. The other girl, the one out in the street, was wearing jeans but from a quick glance at her ass he could tell that she too didn't have all that large a butt.
Frank rolled down the window as the car purred to a stop right next to the corner. Frank put on his cool-daddy hip voice and asked the chicks where they wanted to go. When the one girl standing on the curb leaned down to put her head next to the window Jeff was struck by her eyes, such beautiful blue eyes that made her look like a foreign princess, maybe she was an Italian thought Jeff because Sophia Loren had eyes like that. The girl brushed her long hair out of her eyes with one hand and said that they wanted to get to the state fair which was going on just a few miles outside of town on a big vacant lot. Frank said that was where we were going, that we were part of a band that was scheduled to play tonite and that we had to go out there to check out the stage.
The other one, who was definitely the younger of the two, seemed hesitant about wanting a ride from two black men. The girl who was doing the talking definitely wanted to impress Jeff and Frank, she kept using slang words and smiled at them. She would turn around and coax her sister into getting closer to the car, giving her dirty looks as if she was being rude. And all the time brushing that long brown hair out of her eyes, trying to throw it behind the shoulder of the T-shirt. Whenever she flicked it back Jeff could see the outline of bra straps under the girls shirt.
Frank quickly brought matters to a head by offering them a joint on their way out to the fair. This definitely convinced the older of the two, who turned around and shouted at the other, whose name was Deena, to get into the back seat with her. Frank stepped out and two nice young pieces of ass bounced into the back seat and snuggled their hips around until they were comfortable. As the car started off and Jeff found the main highway again Frank turned on the radio to some jazz and reached into the lining of his coat to pull out a couple of joints. Jeff didn't know that Frank smoked dope, in fact he thought that Frank put down on the whole drug scene; maybe this dope was brought out for just this purpose, to get the chicks to cooperate.
Jeff could smell the sweet-pungent odor of the grass smoke as it swirled from the tip of the joint as it was being passed around the car. Jeff could also smell something else-the fresh, just-scrubbed smell of the girl's bodies and hair. It was an exciting smell, one that made Jeff's senses reel with anticipation. He noticed that Frank also was getting excited already, he could tell by the way Frank's normally rock-hard composure was melting as he was talking to Deena, the younger one sitting behind Jeff with her smooth knees sticking up into the back of Jeff's seat. The older one, Vickie, did most of the talking and she would lean forward to better hear the two men and the smell of her hair wafted across to Jeff's nostrils. Only Vickie wore perfume and at that very little. Jeff turned around and looked at Deena's face, a little more worried and thoughtful than her sister's, and said:
"What are you girls going to do at the fair?"
Deena tried to smile and spoke in a little voice, "Well, we're just going on the rides. We've got to get back home in a few hours. Right Vickie?" Vickie seemed not to notice her little sister's question but finally said:
"What if we find something really neat, Deena, so what if we come home a little late? Ginny won't mind. Besides, we can always threaten to tell Mommy about her drinking during the day when she's gone. That will shut her up." And with that she returned to staring out the front window, taking a toke now and then, generally trying to act about five years older than she really was. Every once in a while Jeff would look out the rear view mirror and catch them grimacing at each other and making little signs, apparently carrying on their little argument about how long they were going to stay. Deena's breasts were just as large as Vickie's and Jeff could tell that they both were wearing pink bras under their T-shirts. He could almost see the outline of the frills that always covered the cups of a bra. So soft and untouched these girls looked, probably both virgins. They will be scared out of their minds.
Jeff took his mind off the girls in the back long enough to notice that Frank had three fingers held up in his lap. Jeff wished that Frank had told him more before they had started out on this little expedition-now he had to guess just what those three fingers meant. He decided that he would take the third exit from where they were; obviously they didn't plan on taking the girls all the way to their destination. Jeff glanced over at Frank and handed him a look like "I hope you know what you're doing." As soon as they turned off the girls would be frightened and would try for sure to get out of the speeding Jag. Their only hope to get the girls now was that Frank knew that the third exit would be in the country somewhere away from city streets and buildings.
Sure enough, by the next exit they were well on their way out of the city. The girls exclaimed when they saw a huge billboard advertising the fair by the side of the road. Deena seemed to lose her apprehension as she read of all the attractions that were there. They were both getting pretty turned on. And Jeff and Frank were sitting back, enjoying every minute of it.
Second exit-only a gas station stood at the end of the off ramp, from there it was all wide open country with hills and trees enough for anybody to hide in.
The third exit was only a couple of hundred yards beyond the second. Jeff kept up the speed of the car until they were right on top of it and then he suddenly braked, swerved over to the off ramp, and shouted that the car did something funny, that he would have to look at it. The girls seemed completely oblivious to what was happening. When the car got to the end of the off ramp, Jeff once more accelerated and turned the automobile to the right, shooting off into the curves of the hilly road before another car could see them from the freeway. The girls both screamed and started shouting at Frank, as if he was the one doing the driving.
"Hey, what's going on! Let us out!" Vickie reached over for the handle to the door on Frank's side but he grabbed her hand and held it tightly, so tightly that she screamed again and started hitting his natural and his shoulders, genuinely frightened out of her mind. Deena just pressed herself against the back of the seat, her round breasts sticking out, and opened her eyes and mouth, completely paralyzed with fear. She knew that these two men were going to get her down on the ground, that they would rip off all her clothes and stick their big fat ugly cocks into her again and again. She didn't know what to do. She wished her father were here, why did she ever listen to Vickie anyway? Oh my God, she thought, they're going to hurt me, they're going to make me have a baby. A little ugly black baby.
Vickie was trying to think of a way out. Frank had loosened his hold on her arm somewhat, just enough so that she wouldn't keep on screaming from the pain, and she used the few minutes she knew she had left to try and con the men out of hurting her and her sister. She told them that they were the children of President Streams, that if anything happened to them there would be big trouble, that if they just left her and her sister alone they wouldn't tell anybody about what happened. But the men didn't listen. Only the driver seemed to be paying any attention to her-he apparently knew who President Streams was, how powerful her daddy was and how much trouble he could cause for him and his friend. But neither one of them talked to her, they didn't care who she was, they didn't care who her father was.
She kept screaming threats at them, hitting them wildly with her weak arms, almost biting Frank when he got careless for a second and let his arm relax over the edge of the seat. Then she grabbed for the keys but the driver reached his hand out and grabbed her by the hair and twisted her around so the other man could grab her around the neck, pulling her back into the back seat. Now they were driving off the road up a tiny dirt trail; the car was bumping up and down, banging the girls heads on the head liner of the car, tossing them about so they couldn't do anything to resist anymore. Now the man stopped the car and jumped out of the front seat and just stood there by the side of the car. The big man stayed in the car, leering at them and reaching back to pinch their nipples with his fingers. They fought him but his hands were too fast, he kept twisting and pinching their skin, bruising them and making them cry out in pain. Deena had tears running down her cheek. As the girls bucked around in the back seat, trying to get away from those awful hands that kept feeling them and hurting them, the other man outside the car kept looking at their bodies, at how their shirts kept flying up in their face as they moved around. He really stared for a long time at Deena's exposed legs. Now his hand was reaching down to where there was a bulge in his pants, he was fooling around with his zipper, now his other hand came down to hold his pants up as he zipped down the zipper. Vickie and Deena stopped in the back seat and stared frightened, not caring that Frank's hands were now inside their T-shirts. The man pulled something thick and long out of his pants. It was a cock and it was jumping up, getting harder and harder right of the girl's eyes. They both screamed loudly, trying to attract some help from whoever might be around. But they knew it was hopeless. Now Vickie could feel the bigger man's hands slip under her bra, suddenly she leaned over and bit his arm very hard and he jumped back, holding his arm and cursing the pain.
Vickie leaped out of the back seat and almost ran the man down who was playing with his prick, making it harder and thicker. She ran into the woods up the hill and the big man jumped out of the car to chase her. Now the other man leaned into the car and reached for Deena.
"Come here girl, suck my cock. Come on, you've waited all your life for this."
But the little girl had jumped over the seat and opened the other door and was now running up the hill, to join her sister. The man at the car just laughed at her and then half-heartedly started to run after her. He could see her sweet little legs pump under her for dear life, her breasts jumping up and down beneath her shirt, elbows flailing at the air.
A high pitched scream broke into the air. My God, thought Jeff, I hope he hasn't killed her, sure sounded like it. Deena was far enough ahead of him that she could turn her head slightly to see how far he was behind her. But when she saw his dong still hanging outside of his jeans, she froze for a moment and just stared at his stiff rod, her breasts heaving with the effort of running, sweat and tears rolling down her neck into her cleavage. He got nearer and nearer to her and still she just stood there, her whole being focused on his cock, trying to understand how something so incredibly huge could go into her there, she was so small, and there was something in her that blocked her fingers when she put them inside. That thing on the man would surely hurt her. And as she began to realize how much bigger the man's cock was than her hole she grew frightened again and screamed, turning to run further up the hillside.
Jeff just stood there and watched the girl run up ahead of him. There was a clearing up at the top of the hill and that seemed to be where the girl was running. He noticed a ravine off to the left full of good sized boulders which he could clamber up and head off the girl at the top of the hill. He moved off to the left and jumped from one large stone to the other.
Deena could feel the brush scratch at her legs as she pushed herself to escape. Her lungs were almost bursting with the effort and her breasts hurt from the bouncing they took with all that running. Her tears kept on flowing down her cheeks. She felt completely lost now, completely abandoned, all of her protection and comforts, all of the things that had been hers by right of being the daughter of a successful person in society. Now here she was, alone and scared, running up a hillside trying to get away from a big black man, a man with his sex hanging out, a man who wanted to fuck her, who would ... Her thoughts instantly ceased as she stared into the clearing ahead and saw the big man on top of her sister.
Vickie thought she was going to throw up. The man had kneed her in the stomach while he was wrestling her to the ground and now he just lay on her, forcing all the air out of her lungs and making her stomach contract with seering pain. He just lay there, feeling the softness of her body underneath him, reveling in the power he held over this girl, feeling her futile squirmings and groans, rubbing his rod into the crotch of her jeans. He pushed his hands down over her T-shirt, ripping the fabric and exposing her bra. He flung aside the torn shirt and feasted his eyes on her body, so young and inviting. Even though she kept on kicking him by bringing up her legs and swinging them over his he kept on tearing the straps from her shoulders, finally ripping the bra from her back and shoving it up towards her face. Her breasts were beautiful, almost perfectly round and as full as her age dictated, her nipples were soft and pink under his rough hands; he kneaded her breasts roughly until he made the delicate nipples sore and stiff. Her face was being pushed down hard into the ground by his chest, her hair caught in brambles and twigs on the ground. Every time he pushed his rod into her her face rolled under his chest and she cried out from the pain. Even though she moaned and sobbed and pleaded with the man, he kept on handling her breasts and squeezing her hips, sometimes forcing his hand down in between her legs and picking her up from the ground by lifting her from beneath her young pussy, feeling the contours of her ass.
Deena finally snapped herself out of her shock long enough to realize that the other man had not caught up with her yet and there was nothing in the way to keep her from helping her sister. She had the presence of mind to pick up a rock and, running to where Frank was lying on her sister, threw the rock down at his head. It glanced off the side of his ear. Frank jumped up off Vickie in a rage-he put his hand behind his ear and felt blood. He staggered over to where the terrified Deena stood, hands clenched in front of her face. Vickie groggily lifted herself part way off the ground. The big man just stood a few feet away from the trembling girl, muttering curses at her and flinging off his belt and pulling down his jeans. With two steps he was at her, ripping at her blue cutoffs with his hands, almost lifting her off the ground with the force of his arms tearing at the material.
"No, No, YOU CAN'T, NOO!" Her voice rose into hysterics, her throat cracking with the strain of her shrieking. She beat at his hands with her arms, trying vainly to keep a hold on her cutoffs, trying to hold them up against her body. But Frank's flaring temper was too much for her. He slapped her brutally with the back of his upraised hand, snapping her head back and knocking some of the fight out of her. Now, with only her piteous sniveling crying to appeal to him for mercy, he wrenched her pants down past her navel until he could see the top of her chestnut colored triangle of hair. With one last tug he pulled the pants and her panties together down to her knees, forcing her small sweet pussy to thrust upwards into his face. Putting one arm behind her asscheeks and pulling her to him, he flipped her over on to her back while whisking her pants quickly off her legs. With one movement, her body was yanked up to his, her head dangling from her now powerless body, sobs wracking her chest. Frank pulled her hips up to his and with two fingers plunged into her softly covered cunt, roughly feeling her canal, forcing open a passage. Satisfied that he could get it in, he spit into his hands and rubbed the length of his rod with spittle. Clasping his hands behind the girl's small back, her body now stiff with fear, he pulled her toward him, lifting her off the ground so that her legs dangled near his cock. Still standing, Frank impaled her with one quick savage thrust, his stiff prick ramrodding deep into her tight virgin cunt. With one bloodcurdling scream, Deena's mind snapped, her body jerking stiff, face ashen white. Only her eyes, opened wide with the adrenalin that her fear was pumping through her body, gave any sign at all that she was conscious. They stared upward and rolled from side to side as the hulking beast over her lay her still form on the pine needle covered ground, grunting his hatred and lust deep into her being, stabbing her insides with violent animal heavings.
Vickie sat there on the ground, barely twenty feet away from where her sister was being raped, her attention riveted to the spectacle of Frank's sweating buttocks and long wet cock humping into her sister. She didn't hear the soft footsteps behind her. She felt strangely alone now, separated from everything that was going on around her. For the first time in her life she was witnessing the sex act; she could not have known that this was one of the most brutal forms of sex; she could not have realized that at this moment her sister was suffering unbelievable pain and physical damage. She could only look upon the two of them, pinned on the ground together, and feel her own body yearn for the experience. She idly passed her hand over one of her exposed breasts, stiffening the nipple that just a few moments ago the same man that was now fucking his sister had touched. The both of them kept jerking on the ground, panting and gasping as if they were caught up in something beyond their control, driving their bodies to the limits of endurance. She looked upon the sweet face of her sister, now with eyes closed, and wished that it had been her, Vickie, and not her little sister that was getting the daylights fucked out of her.
When Jeff kneeled down beside her she suddenly remembered that there had been another man. He looked up at her for a second, and then stared at the way Frank was pummeling the girl, her pudgy form pinned obscenely beneath his huge body. Jeff's cock was still exposed, although now limp, but he seemed oblivious to its presence as well as the fact that there was a half naked girl sitting next to him. But Vickie started looking at his brown prick and the black hairs of his crotch that peeked out of the slit in his pants; Vickie's breasts grew taut with desire and she leaned closer, reaching out with her hand. She could feel little prickly feelings run up and down her neck as she watched her hand edge over closer and closer, her fascinated thoughts focusing on the long rod of the male creature beside her. Everything else that was happening seemed to fade away from her attention; nothing seemed to matter as much as what looking at that huge organ did to her inside her head and inside her body. She could feel her pelvis constricting, the muscles tightening from the tension of sex. The muffled groans from the raped girl only increased her heartbeat; her entire body weakening underneath her, Vickie could no longer stand not having that black cock inside her!
Jeff turned towards her and with one glance knew that this girl wanted the pounding that her sister was getting. He snickered once at Vickie, making her stiffen slightly with fear. Then he stood up and slowly sauntered over to where Vickie was standing, beginning to unbuckle his belt. His jeans seemed stuck to the rippling muscles of his legs, only the flaps fell down slightly, exposing a huge mass of curly jet-black pubic hair. Vickie stepped further back. Jeff now stood only a few feet away from her, sniggering at her with a perverse leer on his face, his thumbs hooked inside his jeans, pulling them down. Vickie took one more look and with a sigh of surrender she unbuttoned the tops of her jeans and put her hands underneath her t-shirt. But he was on her before she could move them up an inch. Encircling her back with his strong black arms, he laughed at her once again and then jerked her body towards his chest, crushing her pelvis against his. He obscenely dug into her a few times, feeling his limp cock snuggling itself against the warmth of her jeans, the smell of her long clean hair enticing him, spurring him on.
"Mister?" Vickie panted against his shoulder, "You're not going to hurt me are you?"
Jeff's eyes were wide open with lust. "Yep, little sweetheart, I'm going to ream you till doomsday!" His hands reached down to her pants. "Now what do you think of that?" He ripped the fabric down to her knees. "Huh little baby, what do you think of that? Ha, Ha, you don't have a chance."
But he could see the hunger in her eyes and he knew that she would love every inch of it. She started helping him pull down her pants, deliberately rubbing her crotch up against him, rolling his hardness between them. His mouth lunged for her, forcing her head back, and then his hand came up behind her head and he pulled her face towards his lips. She pressed her lips together and then exploded her tongue into his mouth. They kissed long and hard. He forced her shoulders down, bending her at the waist towards the ground. Vickie's breasts heaved upward through her t-shirt, her breath panting with fear.
He fell softly with her to the ground, his knees striking the earth on either side of her exposed thighs. A quick movement with his wrist and her pants and panties together came off one leg. The soft sounds her mouth was making urged him on, quickening his movements. He pulled his jeans down just far enough and then helped the girl off with her t-shirt. She lay there on the ground, propped up on one elbow, staring into the heated eyes of the black rapist, begging him to take her fast and cruel. Jeff fondled her breast and watched the sunlight play over her throbbing neck and chest, highlighting the small hairs that covered her body and made it feel like satin. Her breast was firm and prodding under his fingers and he reached down to kiss it softly, and then to roll the nipple in between his lips, hearing the girl suck in her breath underneath him.
She reached out for him and moved her body up towards the heat of his flesh. She pressed her small cunt against his full erection and tried to reach around with her hands to pull his lips down into her. Jeff hesitated, plunged his hand down quickly into her hairy slit and felt her love juice, then he turned his wrist and grabbed on to the end of his cock, guiding the head towards her, pressing her quivering thighs closer. Vickie held in her breath and felt her body still itself, waiting for the penetration. Jeff eased the head slowly over the outside lips, moving it up and down with his hand, pushing it slowly inward. Vickie jerked, moved her chest up with a sharp groan, and then collapsed on the ground, sending her hips upward, impaling herself on his cock, her face twisting with pain.
Jeff felt her hymen puncture as his prick ripped into the depths of her shuddering hips. It fitted so tightly that they both twisted around together on the ground, both unable to move it in or out, both ecstatic by the sudden plundering of her virginity. Her head lashed from side to side, whipping her sweet smelling hair in his face. Vickie went wild from the sensations. Jeff could feel every muscle in her body tightening and then relaxing, her entire being exploding underneath him, out of control and vibrating with energy. Jeff propped himself up on his hands and stared downwards, amazed, watching Vickie unleash years of waiting for just what he was giving her, his root inside her shorting out all the circuits of her body, giving this ripe maiden her first taste of womanhood. Slowly he tried to lift himself off of her slightly, only to hear her groan with surprise and lurch up at him. He pulled his iron-hard staff out slowly, feeling the tight wet squeeze of her vagina. As she felt him slipping away, Vickie's breath left her body and then rushed back into her lungs as Jeff reversed his direction and pushed slowly into her tightness again.
"Oh God Yes!" she screamed, "Oh Yes Yes Yes!" Her body spasmed with pleasure and then she lifted up onto him and down again several quick lunges but he held his position and let her ride up the length of his meat a couple more quick jerks and then she quieted down. Now Jeff could feel the blood pulsing through his dick, maddening his brain with sex fever, pushing his cock out into twice its size gripping the walls of her cunt. Breaking through the rings of her muscles tightening around him, Jeff dug into her flesh, spreading the balls of her ass flatter into his hands. Vickie screamed from the deepest part of her throat. This man had violated her soul forcing his cock deep up her body completely possessed and penetrated. Her fingernails dug into his back like broken muscles her arms and legs were bent at impossible angles, flailing hopelessly beneath him. And now the savage dance of lovers, the thrustings into each other's sex like dogs humping in the night.
The slow blood burn of furious animals took over their minds. Forcing them to plunge deeper and deeper towards orgasm, sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, of the quick liquid thrustings of the black cock burying itself in pale white flesh, of the pinioned girl and her moaning voice echoing the filling of that other mouth of her, of the snorting black man who slashed and slashed with the grunts of the bull.
The girl's hair was splayed out on the ground, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around the heaving form of her black lover. With each shove of the rod into her cunt, her hips spread open for him, almost reaching out for him, ensnaring his cock, trapping it deep inside her. Her thoughts were riding atop waves of sensations emanating outwards from her sex, waves of pleasure and intensity, electric jolts. Her vagina felt like it had been torn open from the flesh of her womb, but she could tell by how well the black man filled her that she was meant to be this way, meant to ride cock. From the very depths of being, she cried out for release. She cried out for his prick, she cried out to be fucked and fucked and fucked again. She wanted this to go on forever, for there to be nothing else in her world but this big black cock and its powerful master.
Jeff grabbed her ass up into him and rippled his cock up through her legs into her coming snatch. Each pound of his body against her open thighs moved them on the ground, compacting her body with his jack hammer. Her hips rolled up and her legs stiffened in the air as he moved up over her slightly and pushed himself downward further than he had pushed before. Now her moans were increasing, her cunt tightening, both of them lashed together for their final throes of passion. He grunted and pushed, held it in there for a second, and then slowly pulled it out. He grunted again and pushed, holding it there.
"Shit, God, Shit. Ooohhh, ooohhh! Yes, Fuck Me FUCK ME!" she cried out, pressing herself against him and not letting go, not letting him move. He went into her again and again and then held it there and pushed with her, each convulsing as his legs jack knifed and his balls stiffened up into his abdomen, shooting out rope after rope of thick semen into her climaxing cunt. She held herself there, on the end of him, for only a few quick searing moments before her orgasm was over and her spent brain swooped in the blackness of oblivion, colors rippling and radiating from every side of her vision. Now only his heartbeat was still thundering; the rest of him lay still and quiet above her, gently kissing the side of her neck.
CHAPTER THREE
By the time Jeff had finished shaving and showering, he was already thirty minutes late to the party. He rushed about the house, gathering up his best looking clothes, when he remembered that there weren't likely to be too many chicks there because this was really more of a meeting than a party. So he carefully hung his velvet shirt back up into the closet and put away his high-heeled purple and white shitkickers; grabbing up some of his everyday type jeans he put back on his crusty, black boots and rummaged around the desk, looking for his car keys.
It was raining! Dammit. Now he had to go back into the house and grab a raincoat, since his car was parked down a long flight of stairs that covered the distance from his house on the hill to the street below, 45 minutes! Damn, Frank's gonna be pissed, Jesus, I shoulda called, Jeff thought. He kept hurrying his mind along at least, if not the rest of him. By the time he got to the street and jumped into his car, the water from the rain had started to make little rivers that flowed over the steps of the stairs like little waterfalls. He could see some reflection on the clouds of the city lights, and wondered what Sadatha was doing at this time of the night. He had wanted to take her to the party, but he knew that it wouldn't be such a good idea to let her know what kind of group he was hanging around with, and for sure it wasn't a good idea for her to know what he and his "friends" were doing with their afternoons! But he missed her just the same-such a fine woman, he kept thinking, never met one just like her. He hoped that this whole deal that he and Frank were into would soon blow over so he could get down to doing other things with his life. For the first time in a long time Jeff could feel the loneliness creeping in around him, making the rain come down on him just that much colder.
The car's motor turned over easily, and after a few seconds the car's heater warmed enough to spurn hot air over the insides of the windshield and defrost the fog on it. He pulled out from the curb and gunned the motor only to wait a second for the wheels to stop spinning before the car would move. Frank's place was really only a couple of blocks away, by the way the crow flies, and yet it took about ten minutes to drive there. That was because the hill that they both lived on had roads that resembled the trail of a drunk worm. If you didn't know your way around this neighborhood you were lost and that was that! Of course the two men had picked an area like this because they realized that living on this hill would give them some degree of being hidden away from the more direct routes of possible police invasion. Jeff could still remember the way Frank looked when he got out, all fire branding and revolution and big plans. Jeff didn't really take him at all that seriously then; he wondered why he did now.
Frank's plan wasn't all that complicated in and of itself, but when you examined every detail alone from the other elements of the plot you could get this bizarre feeling that Frank was crazy, I mean really crazy. But then was when you invariably could hear Frank in some other part of the room taking a few tokes off a joint and discussing his political ideals. That was when you listened; you knew by what the man was saying that he was for you, and even if he did think that by doing crazy things you could change the system somehow you wanted to help him do them, wanted to help get this man in some position of power where he could be heard by more blacks, and where he could put some of his bigger ideas into action. Frank was like a Jesus trip somehow, a black boy messiah come to raise the niggers up against the white man, except that Frank was smart. He didn't go in for this "slash their throats" business; like he said, when you go around "killing and killing" you're doing much more than changing the system, you're violating laws that even black men adhere to. Almost God's law, the way Frank put it. So Frank figured out a way that would keep everybody happy-keeps us happy, we get all those chicks, keeps him happy, he gets to do the political trip, and keeps whitey happy, when you're just sticking a couple of white bitches the white law just thinks it's the regular spring time ghetto rapo on the loose again.
His car rounded the last curve and he strained his head forward to get a better view, looking for a parking place through the sheets and sheets of rain. Ah, there's one. Hey, wait a minute! Frank looked closer at the license plate of the green Chevy and the little auto club sticker that told him that this particular white olds (looking like all the other 1958 white olds in the world) belonged to Faye. What a trip! So she was going to be here after all, out of sight! That meant that at least for two or three or, who knows she may do all of us, yep! Some dudes are going to have themselves a ball! He remembered the last time that she came over to Frank's. By the time the evening half wore out, so was Faye. She could only stagger in every once in a while, after she had been there only an hour, to slowly struggle with the next dude she had her eyes on to get him to come into the bedroom, where the last dude was by then waking up from his shooting off and putting back on his pants. Jeff was in the mood for this gang-banging stuff, especially with a chick like Faye who dug the whole thing.
He put his raincoat hood over his head for he had another long walk ahead of him, this time downhill. Frank lived in the bottom house of a series of six houses that crept piggy-back over each other on down the hillside, like a row of fallen dominoes except each domino was a level. Jeff looked at the lights glistening through the rain down at the bottom of the staircase. He could begin to hear some music, jazz, float up from Frank's place and voices rambling around in loud party talk. Jeff wondered who would be there as he looked down at his feet to keep from slipping. For sure Marti was going to be there, and Jose too. That was cool. Next to Frank, Jose and Marti were his best friends. Some of Frank's other buddies would be there, and probably, thought Jeff with a shiver, some weirdo's, maybe even Harley.
Right next to the door he could hear Faye's voice tingling above the conversation. She was a musician, and everything she did, from talking to walking, looked and sounded musical. She was laughing like at some kind of joke, or maybe somebody just pinched her. What a broad! He opened the door and walked on in. Frank was passing out beers. His old man, who lived there with him, was sitting in a corner, watching that Faye woman snake her blonde charms around the room. Jeff liked Frank's old man a lot and didn't approve of the way that Frank treated him. The old guy had really been something before he got old; now just about all he could do was to walk over to the refrigerator and get another beer. But when he loosened up a bit and there was somebody around to listen to him, that dude had the best stories! He was around for some of the heaviest chapters in the country's history, including both wars. But he never talked about the South, where he was from. Whenever Frank prodded him about it, asking to tell us what it was like, the old man would just look at us all misty-eyed and kinda sad and say "that was another chapter, boys, another chapter."
Frank said "Hi ya doin' Jeff, baby!" as Jeff joined the main circle of his friends. Marti and Jose were over by the old man, looking up at Faye every once in a while and talking, probably about those they could get some of that black cock-lovin' white ass. Jeff looked around the room; smoke was pouring out of about ten cigarettes and twice that many joints. Altogether about fourteen people; of course it was hard to see into the bedrooms, there might be somebody there, although Faye was out here and she didn't look like she'd been rumpled yet. Hey, wait, there was another chick over there in the corner, black and very smart looking. Kinda reminded him of Sadatha the way she wore her jewelry and that stylish skirt, maybe she was a fashion model like Sadatha, black models were very "in" these days magazine wise. Everyone was whooping and roaring, having the gayest of times, passing the joints around and occasionally coughing from inhaling too much of the sweet smoke. A couple of the dudes were already in twilight land, heads against the wall, red beady eyes staring out into space, and feet tapping lazily to the music. Frank's political rap was getting to Jeff a little, he had heard it so many times before and besides Frank was talking to some new people, maybe checking them out to see how committed they were. As Jeff started thinking about the party, he realized that at least half of the people in here couldn't attend any meeting of Frank's group of conspirators. The party must be a cover-up, he thought, once things settled down somewhat and Frank could kick a couple of the people out they would get down to business! But in the meantime, there was nothing left for Jeff to do but enjoy ... enjoy. So he sat down, next to the black chick, noticing the way her eyes were following Faye around the room, checking out her style. Two cats in heat checking out the studs!
He asked her her name. She said "Cynthia" and then turned back to look into the center of the room. Hmmm, cool eh? Well, he'd just have to see about that. Leaning right over her with one arm, he smiled down at her, feasting his eyes on two dusty brown breasts that filled up the front of her dress. No bra. Quite a sexy looking smile. Dimples and short, sweet lips. He started motioning towards her, talking to her about school, trying to get some information from her about who she was and what she was doing here. She said she knew Frank; in fact, she said she knew him before the last time he was sent up. She warmed up a bit when he finally got around to introducing his name into the conversation. They talked together for some twenty minutes, just sitting over there in the corner, cut off from everything else that was happening at the party. She said that she was born in Biloxi Mississippi, a small town located on the edge of a big textile factory. Her father was a worker there and her mother sewed clothes for the white ladies in town for some extra money. Well one day when she was about eleven her father didn't come home and when she got back from school her mother was completely broken down, sitting at the kitchen table bawling her eyes out from grief. She had just gotten around to calming her mother down and trying to ask where her father was when this loud pounding started on the door. She went to open it but before she could even get to the door it came crashing down off its hinges. About three white men came in, dead drunk, and immediately went over to where her mother was sitting and started calling her names and hitting her, slapping her around and shouting that they had hung "her dirty little nigger lover."
"How do you like that you filthy black bitch, we strung him up right outside the factory gate, the little thief, thinking he could get away with that kind of shit at the factory."
Cynthia apparently had never known that her father was dead until the men started shouting up and down about it. Her mother just clung there to the tablecloth and just sobbed and sobbed her life away. Pretty soon the men got tired of tormenting her and started swaggering around the room, knocking all the lamps and china to the floor and even grabbing the pictures on the wall and smashing them to the ground. Cynthia was panic stricken and tried to run, but one of the guys caught her around her slim waist and dragged her over to where the other two guys were smashing things. Cynthia quieted down a little at this point in the story and looked up to where Faye was now dancing, rubbing her white tits in the air!
"What happened?" Jeff reminded her of her story.
"Well, those motherfuckers; I was only thirteen but they thought I was the Queen of the Nile. They kept saying that sort of thing, you know, 'this girl's the pearl of Africa, just look at her shiny white teeth' that whole sort of honky jive. And they weren't looking at my teeth, I can tell you that! They had their hands inside my blouse before the count of three, pulling on my jugs, right there in front of my mother. I was terrified; but when I tried to get away, they just let me get a few feet and then they grabbed after me, ripping off more of my clothes every time. They was playing with me; they would have loved nothing more than to have seen me try to get away. They would have finished me off right then and there! Mother, poor mother, she gets up and tries to stop them, screaming at them and hitting them on the back with her puny little hands. Well, they want me, they don't give a damn about an old lady whose husband they's just strung up, so they git some kinda piece of one of the lamps and they's just hit her right over the head with it. She just fell down dead, or at least I thought she was dead at the time. Those bastards, they had killed my father and I thought they had killed my mother and I was sure that I was next. But I knew they had other plans for me first. My clothes were pretty torn up by this time and I could feel the blood from all their scratching me trickle down my chest. They was so drunk they couldn't see straight so I thought if I ran to the back of the house I could maybe get out the back door before anyone of them realized that our place had a back door. I got about thirty feet."
Someone had changed the record and during the silence in between records everyone in the room looked around a bit, smiling at some of the new faces that hadn't seen before, checking their beer supply or lighting up another stick. There were even some little plastic glassine envelopes open near some of the heavier looking druggies. Cocaine highs and heroin cruisers. Jeff felt a little disgust at the druggies; he wondered how they could get into Frank's place, he was so down on drugs. But Jeff knew why-to get as many witnesses as possible that it had been a party that had happened here tonight and not a meeting of revolutionary's. When the next record came on, it was a rock opera, and Faye started dancing like she had been bitten by the Tarantula. She wore nothing but a short top, the kind that pinched underneath the breasts and left all that stomach and upper hips open to the air. And her pants were just a short pair of red jeans that swiveled and bucked obscenely in time to the music. All the lights of the house were playing off of her body, highlighting the beads of sweat that were forming on her skin and shaping the soft curves of her legs against the background. All eyes were on her, and not just because she was the only white person in the room either! Cynthia laid back into her chair and stared out at the showy white chick with a sneer on her lips. She tried to play that she was above all this, that she would never do that sort of thing in front of all these men, but Jeff could see little twitches on Cynthia's face that he knew meant jealousy. He tried to take her mind off of it by starting another conversation; he was surprised when she turned to him and smiled, eager to talk to someone. She wasn't a bad chick, this Cynthia. Lots of character and the other things that make a woman just right for a man. Her legs were shapely, and the light brown stockings that she wore excited him, forcing him to smile more openly towards her and start making little hints in their conversation. The lights in the room cast enticing shadows on the lines of her face, soft lights darkening brown skin. Into her eyes danced the reflection of Faye's white, dancing body.
The room was filled with smoke, it was wrapped in sliding curls around the lampshades and hovered over the floor like a thick blanket. Bodies were propped up against the walls or sprawled lazily on the couch. Only a few people were talking; Frank and the others would speak for a few minutes, then turn to watch the dancing woman. The music grew louder and the beat went faster, several of the dudes were slapping their thighs with their hands, keeping time to the music. A couple of them shouted out, cheering on the girl.
Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead and her hair was starting to lose its set, drooping down over her eyes as her head whipped it around and around in the air. Her brown eyes were closed and her face showed total absorption in the rhythms of the music. With her head bent back, she arched her breasts under their short halter forward and up into the air, groaning slightly with her breath. Her ribs stuck out and shone with the soft film of sweat that now covered every inch of her flesh. Her jeans moved as one with her legs. Her knees kept clipping back and forth with every movement of her body. You could hear the softest shooshing noise as the fabric of one pant leg brushed against the other. The mound of her pubis stuck out from her hips slightly about an inch, and the way she bucked her hips toward every man in the room gave them all an idea as to how she would look if she were under them, pushing in their thick cocks right into the quick of her!
When she was dancing side-wise to you, moving her stomach and breasts in and out in time to the music, you could see the valley that stretched from one side of the pelvic bone to the other, the shallow valley of the heart of her stomach, interrupted along its course only by the rise of her mound. You could almost see it straining to get out of the confining jeans she was wearing. You could see the smooth rounded look of her ass give way to puckered fabric right around her crotch, as if she was opening up herself, hungry and panting. Her body moved in tortured buckings and thrashings, every inch of flesh taut with the co-ordination of her dancing muscles, her mouth open and breathing hard. She moved in patterns around the floor, locked into the steps of an ancient and passionate dance. The drums of the band were playing fast and furiously, jungle drums that heated the blood and brought out the hunting memories buried deep within all men. The scent of woman sweat filled your nostrils. Your eyes followed her bending flesh as it twisted and heaved with the reflections of a thousand fires that burned from some place deep inside of her. Your legs were yearning to move, the muscles of your stomach pitted with tension and fear, the uncomfortable waiting before release. And the presence of a dozen men, all as caught up as you were in watching the girl, gave the air a dangerous feeling. It was maddening; your head swum around in dizziness from the dope and the booze; the music pounded into your temples as hard as your racing heartbeat thundered in your chest.
The minutes turned into hours. A thousand women danced and flashed their naked thighs before the king and his warriors. The one that danced the best would be spared from the grisly death that awaited the others at the hands of the barbarian warriors. All eyes were directed towards the center of the arena, a fanfare of trumpets and then the soft melodies radiated from the ancient instruments, the gentle swaying of a thousand maidens began to commence. For an hour the insistent rhythms controlled the lives of a thousand beautiful women; each one trying to absorb every nuance of sexual suggestion that was implied by the graceful, lilting notes from the instruments. They would turn to face the king, trying to win his favor by displaying their charms in such a way that he would never forget them, each one trying to outdo the other. The grandstands full of lusty men sniggered to one another and pointed out the exceptional breast that would pass their eye, or the particularly enticing set of hips that flashed upward at them with the delirium of sexual masochism. Each woman thrusting her womb upward to the waiting men, beseeching impalement by their now awakened organs, impalement by the spear of their flesh rather than the knife that hung loosely from their hips.
Her halter hung loose over her breasts, wilted and damp from sweat. With each swing of her shoulders her breasts would sweep from side to side inside the halter, nipples protruding through the front of the damp fabric. They were large and each flash of the flesh revealed the sweated roundness of their soft skin. Her belt was loosened, whether by her hand or just by her jerking you couldn't be sure of, but the flap of the leather belt against her thighs made you aware of how tight her body was. She danced on and on, not even pausing when they put the needle back to the beginning of the record. Little gurgling noises escaped from her throat and she sighed like a woman in orgasm each time she thrust her hips out. The animal in her was making her come spastically and uncontrollably. The smell of her cunt whiffed by your nostrils and you wanted to reach out for her, only you are afraid for her and want to protect her from the other men. You know she can't help herself anymore and that every guy in the room is turned on, their cocks hard and heavy inside their jeans. You know she wants someone to relieve her, to thrust into her and make her body know that it is alive and wanted. You wish you were alone with her in some beautiful place where you could fuck her and fuck her again, listening to her moan your name from the heights of her trembling orgasms. You are sweating. You don't dare turn your head. You know that the guy next to you is thinking the same thing you are, to grab her and drag her off into the bushes somewhere, to fuck that bewildered body until it screamed.
She starts spinning in circles, weakening from the exercise, and her head droops down over her chest from fatigue. She seemed to stumble; her legs slowed down for a moment and then she stopped moving her slim ankles. She just pushed her knees in and out towards the men, moving the asscheeks of her hips slowly back and forth.
Suddenly a hand shoots out into the circle of her light! A black hand grips around her white ankle and pulls her off her feet. Jeff jumped to his feet and Cynthia gave a little scream, holding her hands up to her mouth. The guy in the corner who had grabbed the white woman had stood up over her and reached down for the top of her jeans. Jeff took two steps to get closer, but then stopped as the hand wrenched open her zipper and exposed the naked flesh beneath. Faye wrenched her hand down to try and stop the jeans from opening, but now she could only whimper and cry out.
"No, No, please, you bastard. Let me stand up, you filthy PRICK!!"
Cynthia stood up and raced over to where the girl was lying, flailing out with her tiny fists trying to hit the dude. But he only laughed at her and shoved her back, pulling up on the dancer's jeans, making her hips rise up off the floor. Cynthia backed up and started to scream, tears running down her cheeks. Jeff moved over and put his arm around her, but she only flinched and turned away from him. The small blonde girl on the floor could only pant, completely out of breath and with no energy visible in her small frame.
"You asshole. You prick. Leave me alone, you goddamn black son of a bitch. Somebody, STOP HIM!!!!" She screamed louder and louder, glancing around the room with her eyes wide open from fear. She kept looking at every dude in turn for a second, trying to enlist their aid. But they all looked back at her with the cold look of a man in heat, the sneering look of the man who is so enraged out of his senses that he would do anything to rip off her clothes and plunge into her again and again. As she became aware that she wasn't going to get any help from anybody, her face contorted with one loud, long scream and then the guy who had the open flap of her jeans in her hand fell over and brutally wrapped his hand around her open mouth. As her body bucked and twisted up off the floor, every man in the room stood up and came over to where she was lying. They formed a semi-circle around her, staring down into her frightened eyes with the hunger of a thousand bulls. Cynthia just stood there by the kitchen doorway, too overcome with shock to do anything. Jeff stood there with the group, watching the trembling tits of the woman beneath him. Cynthia's sobbing broke through the stillness like ice. A couple of the men looked up at her with faces of guilt. Jeff looked down at Faye and saw the tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes. The guy who had fallen over her looked up at the other men with a glance of hatred, and then fell on the body below, wrenching his hands into the crotch of her jeans, pulling them down over the bones of her hips. He started to grunt with his efforts, jabbing his erection into her legs, rolling his glands on the smoothness of her inner thighs. Just then, Frank's old man turned away from the circle and the men looked up at him and he said with his weariest voice "She's crying, you idiots!" Jeff turned around to see Cynthia completely broken down, sitting on the floor and leaning against the frame of the doorway, sobbing into her clenched hands. A couple of the guys reached down and lifted the guy off of Faye; he turned and snarled for a second but then when he saw how many were against him he quieted down and stormed out of the room, slamming the front door as he left the building.
A guy with a T-shirt on leaned over the still, meek form of the beautiful girl and helped her get to her feet. When she stood up, she walked out towards the kitchen, but then stopped to put a hand on Cynthia's shoulder. The black woman stopped her crying and then a laugh broke out behind her to completely break the spell. The guys started to talk all at once, apologizing for their brother who couldn't hold his balls, saying that they would never have invited him over if they knew he was going to do something like that. Faye just looked up at them tiredly and said "Sure, fellows, yea, sure." She brushed back her matted hair and went into her purse for a cigarette. Cynthia lifted herself up off the floor and, without turning around, asked Faye if she wanted a ride home. She did.
After the girls left, the men sort of shifted around the room, all of them a little dazed by what had happened. Faye had quite a reputation for parties and she certainly didn't have any hangup about black cock. She knew enough to know that it didn't make much difference what color it was, just how well it filled her and how long it would thrust into her like a heated knife into butter. But Cynthia's presence had changed everything around; had make it more of a rape than a gang-bang, more pain than pleasure. Only Jeff had any idea of why the obviously sexually sophisticated black chick had flinched when all this started happening, and the realization almost made him sick to his stomach. She had reminded him of Sadatha; she had the same softness in her voice and manner and the same perfect firmness of her body. She tried to imagine what it would be like if it was Sadatha that had been raped by the three white men and what it would have done to her. Just thinking about it made his gut tense with hate for the white honky bastards. When he watched the smooth, unblemished flesh of the white girl tease and incite the passions of the men in the room he almost felt like she had no right to be so pure and so beautiful while someone like Cynthia had to carry the coldness of the memory of those three hating pricks thrusting into her for the rest of her life. He wanted to take the white woman, not like a lover, but like an avenging angel sowing death and destruction with every blow. He knew the other men in the room could have felt like he did at that moment; possibly some of them had known a girl like Cynthia and had remembered the hatred in their eyes which they had to carry against all men. Possibly some of them had felt the same bitter feelings in their groin, the same desire and the same excitement, but always tinged with the bitter memory of what being white meant to them. Jeff was glad at first that the guy had grabbed her and flung her down. He had moved over closer to her so he could be one of the first to take her before her body and her consciousness gave out on her completely. He too felt the hardness of his cock in his pants and he ached with longing for the woman. But now he was glad that the women had left, he was glad, not for the white bitch, but for the black woman who would have had to witness a grisly repeat of an experience she wanted very much to forget. But he had seen enough of Faye's body to know that the next time he ever saw her it would be very hard to leave her presence without at least making a strong play for her.
Frank was the first to snap out of the depression that had gripped the party. He sat down in the middle of the room and, with a beer can in one of his hands, started talking. He attracted everyone's attention at once because they were waiting for something to happen, something that would relieve their frustration at not being able to bang the girl. Frank started talking about plans and this snapped their heads up. He introduced some of the dudes that the other guys didn't know and made sure everybody was friendly and the "yeh, brother" spirit came back into the group. He was the organizer and he knew how to get attention.
"I wanted especially for you guys here to meet Jose and Marti. These two dudes I call my 'media men,' 'cuz they know how to use cameras and all that shit. You see, what they're going to do is record everything we do on that campus, every scene we ever get into from here on out with any of the chicks that we hit. I know it sounds crazy but that's what they're gonna do. I've already spend my life savings to rent them the video equipment so no one's gonna say I can't do it, right?"
"Yeah, man, I get the message, man. But what're they going to collect all this evidence for? You going to want some money from us or something man?" The short guy who said this could barely stand up and his eyes were blood red from all the dope and wine. But he made his point.
"Ok, ok Randy, just settle down for a sec and I'll wrap it up for you. You see, the reasons these guys are doing this is that we gotta have something extra, something that will prove to those pig faculty and administration people that we mean business. And a nice, fat videotape of these chicks as they're getting the old shaft put to them will be just the thing to scare them out of their ever lovin' mind. They don't think that we're organized, and even though we've been sending them threatening letters and even warning them who's gonna be next they don't take it seriously. They don't think we've got the balls to go through with it number one, and number two they don't think we're smart enough to pull anything off like that and not get caught. They know we don't want them to build that sport's center right in the middle of the ghetto, they know we don't like the idea of them pushing all those people off the block and them building a huge stadium, with their fat ass white dollars and their pull at city hall. It means more cops, more white honkies driving around in their Cadillac's trying to pick up some cheap black cunt for the evening's entertainment. But you know and I know that they never intend to listen to us. I mean we're just a bunch of black niggers, right, and if it wasn't for the scholarships we all got from the government we wouldn't have no business going to college. Let's face it man, they don't give a damn what we do and they could care less if we screamed and hollered until we were hoarse. So what did we do?" His face was tense, totally involved in the seriousness of the discussion.
"We fucked 'em, that's what, he he!" and the rest of the gang started to crack up too, leaving Simmons slightly embarrassed but still on top of the argument.
"Yeh, that's right. We did it to 'em, and we all got some kicks out of it, but you know we did them all by plan. You followed what I told you to do because you knew I could figure it out right so we didn't get into any trouble. You did it for me because you knew I needed you for something. I'm sure a lot of you are like me and Jeff and see the purposes behind it all; you may not agree that stopping them from building that arena is very important, you may just not give a damn. But it is important, believe me. And if it isn't important to you than I'm going to tell you something. It's important to me so you're going to do it. You can't back out now or say that's it's been fun but you'll be seeing me later; uh uh, you're in it now, all of you, up to your necks. Now I'm not putting the heat on to you, don't get me wrong. You're all my bosom brothers and I wouldn't lead you astray, for real. But man, you'd better be straight with me or I'll burn you bad. From now on out it isn't gonna be no picnic. It's gonna get heavier and heavier, and every goddamn johnny cop that's worth his salt is gonna be looking at us when we sit around that campus, they're gonna be staring at us hard to see if we do anything, to see if we make a mistake and show them the way to the next scene we pull. Marti and Jose are going to be our ace in the hole, they're gonna make this thing easier for me to do and they're gonna make it so you guys are never going to be caught." He lit a cigarette and leaned his elbows on his knees. The other guys sat around, waiting for him to tell him how these two dudes we're going to do all of this for them. They both looked older, maybe in their late twenties. Jose was definitely not black, and this had already brought out a lot of suspicion towards him.
But Simmons wasn't about to lose control. "They're going to video everything we do from now on. Then they're going to splice and do whatever other shit is involved in making a nice hour long or so tape of all the women we do. But our faces will be taken out of the film. All they'll see is black bodies and black cocks, and of course we're going to have every detail of these chicks as they get the shaft. We want for them to see every black cock that we can get up into these bitches. I'm going to give them this film in another week or so, and I'm sure after they see it they will know just where they stand with us, and they will also have an idea of how tough we are and how it would be to their best advantage to immediately stop that building and put the money back into building up the minorities scholarship fund instead where it belongs in the first place. They're gonna do all this because I believe that the film will do more towards antagonizing them then a full years worth of rapes. The raping they can say that the blacks did and that it's just 'cause that's the way black dudes are. They'll ignore my letters as the work of some crankpot. But the film is something they'll understand, it fits right up their technological bullshit alley. In fact, they'll probably be more humiliated that we dared to put it all on film than if we just did the rapes themselves. That's the way the white dude works, he's sick in a way and he has funny ideas about what is valuable and what is not." He took a cool drag off his cigarette, fully aware of how good his plan was. He just laid back, waiting for the reaction. Jeff had his hands scratching his chin, like he was deep in thought. Eventually, he put his hand down and spoke.
"Frank, baby, I think that the video bullshit is brilliant; it should save us a lot of trouble and you're right about it doing things for us that we couldn't do for ourselves. But what I think the fellows are wondering about it whether or not we can trust this Jose and his pal Marti. You said they were going to splice the film, what if they accidentally on purpose left one of our faces in? Huh. Or what about their equipment. Isn't it rather a bulky object to be carrying around back alleys and such while we go about bagging the chicks?"
"Don't worry about it. I'm the one who sees the film before it goes over to the dudes and if you can't trust me you'd better not be here in the first place." No one moved an inch. "And as for their equipment, they tell me that it doesn't weigh more than twenty five pounds and between the two of them they can cart it all over town. Besides, I figure that if there is any flak at all the fact that we're carrying a video unit will help to scare the pigs off. They'll think we're college students, which is true, doing a project for school, which is true too although it isn't exactly along the lines that they would like us to be doing. Well, what do you say? Are they in?"
CHAPTER FOUR
Sadatha Winfield considered herself lucky. Out of all the girls she had known in high school, she was the only one to really make it on her own. Oh, a couple of them had jobs at banks as tellers and shit like that, but she was the only one with a truly glamorous job. Every day she modeled the latest in fashion before a series of high-class professional photographers. Her face and figure were constantly appearing in all the elegant fashion magazines, and her agent was now arranging for her to do some television commercials. Her salary was tremendous, and through all the connections she made inside the business she managed to rake in a couple thousand extra per month. All of her old friends talked to her like she was the queen of the group, and indeed she was! But she was good to her people too; she often gave them money when they really needed something and she completely supported her mother who lived in Chicago. Her father had been a white man, and consequently her mother was ostracized from both the black and the white communities, and Sadatha felt guilty for this, that her mother would have to suffer.
But that was not the only thing that was on her mind this Tuesday morning. She felt unhappy about the way her friends treated her, and especially unhappy about how Jeff treated her. As she lifted her negligee above her head, she thought of how much she was in love with him but how it had been so hard on him that she made all that money. She knew that he could never begin to love her until he could feel proud of himself when he was with her. And the only way that that stupid man could feel proud is if he was making as much money as Sadatha! Why did men have to be like that! Couldn't they just love a woman for what she was and not expect to be her godfather or something? She ached with the memory of that man's loving, and she could still feel the strength of his rod as it slid in and out of her. She wished she could quit work almost so she could wrap that man up and take him home. Nobody else did what he did to her, no one else had been able to reach that deep. She yawned sleepily, and turned on the water faucets inside the shower. She looked at her body in the mirror, admiring the perfect uptilting curve of her small stylish breasts. She leaned closer and checked her face; every morning she spent at least a half an hour putting on the make-up, hiding what few blemishes there were on her face and body. She slowly scanned downward over her body, trying to remember if they were going to do any lingerie shots today. If they were, then she would have to powder her frilly black cunt hairs so they wouldn't show so darkly through the white nylon. She didn't think she had any of those assignments today, not even a bathing suit ad. So she just checked over her face, and then turned towards the shower. The water was steaming up the bathroom, and since she liked her showers hot, she only turned the cold water up a little bit before stepping into the raining water.
She could hear the pleasant sound of the water falling on her cap and reached up to let it flow down over her shoulders and in between her breasts. She reached for the soap and stroked on a few layers of lather over her breasts, feeling their fullness stiffen under her fingers as she touched the nipples. Her hands moved further down and sculptured out the hollow of her stomach with the soapy lubrication. Her skin awakened from its night sleep and responded with sleepy awareness to the movements of her hands. She clasped either side of her hips and squeezed inward, feeling her womb moving inside of her as she stood up on her toes and reached for the shower head. Turning, she washed the soap off the front of her breasts and her protruding ribs. As she moved her fingers over her body, she could feel stirrings deep inside of her, movements of blood that signified a needing, a wanting for relief. Her breath caught in her throat and she moved her fingers further down into her hair, idly stroking the outside of her lips and probing with her middle finger for the clitoris. It tickled at first, and then turned on with the sweetest energy, rising up into her system and electrifying her brain, causing her head to tilt back and a sigh to escape from her lips. She moved the other hand down tightly over her stomach and moved it to the side of the other one, using them both to stroke the outside of her cunt, rolling the swelling clitoris around under its fleshy blankets with her finger and pushing her hands further and further inside the moistening walls of her hairy slit. The water played on her spine, warming the nerves inside her head and making her lose track of the time. She kept touching herself there, sliding her fingers in and out over the edges of her cunt lips, feeling them swell up under her hands, opening for something to penetrate them, to push deeply inside of her and split apart her hungrily aching muscles. She had two fingers trapping the clitoris between them, and with each downward stroke she shoved the wrist of her hand right against the lips, inserting her fingers into the walls of her vagina. Her system was coming moist all over her hands, the walls and lips of her cunt hardening and jerking with the whiplash movements, attempting to swallow up the hand before it could push and penetrate. She jerked her head back and forth and leaned up against the wall, tightening her legs around her hands, stopping them from moving while the electricity raced through her body, robbing her of her breath. With her legs clenched and back firmly implanted against the wall she forced the hands to move into her flesh, thrusting them to the hilt, holding them there while she moved the fingers just slightly. Then her moaning came out loud and her hand rubbed mercilessly inside her legs, forcing her hips to buck obscenely back and forth. Then with one fierce stabbing of her arm she slammed her head against the shower wall and shouted out: "Awwgh, arrgh, oh God, Oh sweet Jesus!! oh, oohhurgh!!! OH God Jeff I'm coming!!! I'm coming!!!" and then fell against the wall, collapsed onto the bottom of the shower, her breath racing in and out of her body. The warmth of the water only made it feel more soothing as she basked in the sun of her orgasm, completely satisfied and relaxed. All her muscles quieted and her face lost its hard lines, her cheeks radiating a softened glow. She finished soaping her legs and rubbed softly over her crotch, feeling its heat still rising up through her fingers. She reached for the water and slipped out.
She exhaustedly put on her makeup with quick, professional strokes of her hand and then moved to the closet to select a loose feeling synthetic fibered dress with a bold brown print on it. She never wore a bra, and the sleek satin panties went on with the barest flicker of her hands up over the shining flesh of her legs. With a few quick steps she put on her shoes and stepped into the kitchen to rustle up some breakfast.
She took a cab to work. This was one of the luxuries that she allowed herself when she was working. This and lunch at Cecilia's, the fashionable downtown restaurant where she met a lot of her men friends. As the cabby handed her her change, she looked serenely for a moment at the huge building where her agency's offices were located. It was a tall modern sky-scraper with the new type of sun-shade windows tinted brown. There were bank names and stockbrokers legends painted in glaring colors over the glass of the street floor. Twenty-seven stories of business. And at the top story was located the Samuel Elkrins Agency, one of the city's finest and most consistently elegant. They handled about four hundred different fashion accounts from the clothing industry that centered itself in a few blocks just on the other side of downtown. These clothiers competed with each other with their advertising and whatever publicity they were able to garner from fashion shows. Thus they valued good models and paid enormous sums to have exclusive rights on a model for a month or a year, just so only that girl's face and figure would be identified with their dress or their bathing suit. Of course a lot of the girl's success had to do with their being physically correct for the type of style that the designer was trying to sell. A girl who made this kind of account would have enough money after it was over to go into business on her own if she wanted, and, if she considered herself competent enough, open her own agency. Sadatha wasn't at this kind of rank yet within the Elkrins Agency, but she was known as one of the two or three women most likely to be "bought out." She knew she had a long way to go, and she never knew whether or not the black fashion thing would go on or whether it would be replaced next month by some other type. But the work was exciting and the pay was more than good. The other girls, contrary to popular belief, were friendly and concerned with each other's welfare. Sadatha could remember that when she had first met Jeff she had a girl friend at work that was having man problems and she let the girl stay over at her place for a few weeks until she got her head straightened out. She really loved some of the other girls. Even the white ones were nice to her and treated her like a sister.
She brushed past the open glass doors and greeted Sally the receptionist. Sally waved her over for a second, and mentioned to her that Mr. Elkrins would be in today. He was a man in his late fifties and really only owned this business, leaving the management of it to Percy, the fag who really did a good job of contacting the industry and distributing the work fairly among the girls. "Oh, I wonder what he wants. He usually only comes by to pick up on one of the models; who knows, today might be my lucky day!" quipped Sadatha as she walked away from Sally's desk and hurried into the dressing rooms.
Her day's shooting schedule was handed her by the dresser. Only three morning jobs with three changes, and then nothing in the afternoon except a possible rescheduling. Damn. That meant she still had to wait around for the afternoon in case anyone needed her for a rush job. Well, it was extra money, so it wasn't so bad, but still Sadatha felt that she would have liked the afternoon off. Her little adventure in the shower had made her feel more than a little tired; she wished she were in bed and Jeff was in between her legs, charging into her with the fury of a bull. Maybe tonight-but she hadn't been able to get in touch with him for two days now. She couldn't help but wonder if he had found some other little pussy to dangle in. No, not Jeff, he was in love with her and as soon as he got over the money hangup he would ask her to marry him. She lazily looked around the dressing room to see who else was here as she walked over to the lockers. Mary was just slipping out of her blue sweater, exposing her white bra and the gentle curve of her freckled skin as it dipped into the fabric of the lacy cups. She loved the color of Mary's skin, so white and pure, and her way of putting her red hair up made her look like an olden time queen of Ireland. Mary and Sadatha had gotten along especially well, often helping each other dress when there was little time to change. Sadatha said hi and the short blue-eyed woman turned, loosening the strap on her back and letting fall the bra, exposing her two beautiful breasts, each one capped with a delicately red shaded nipple. Sadatha could feel something pull inside of her when Mary's breasts came swinging loose from the bra. This was maddening! First that little episode in the shower and now turning on to sweet Mary's breasts! Oh, little woman, Sadatha thought to herself, you've got to get some cock before you go crazy! Sadatha lingered for a moment longer before Mary completely took off the bra and sat down on her dressing chair. She smiled at the slim black woman and said something about Sadatha being on call for the afternoon.
"Yes, I know. I haven't had to do that for ages." And then, as an afterthought. "How's Bill?"
"He decided to take that job in San Francisco after all. I don't want to move up with him for a while yet, a couple of months, maybe. How about you. Still got that college stud?"
Sadatha could feel the heat rising in her neck, she was so mad at Mary for calling Jeff a "college stud." But she could see by the expression on the girl's face that all she was really asking was whether or not she had been laid lately.
"Not lately, I wonder if he isn't doing something extra-curricular. I don't know Mary, sometimes he's so positive and mature about everything and then the next minute he slips back into feeling self-conscious about it all. I wish he could get out of college sooner than he is and get a job someplace, that would help."
"That's too bad. If you want to go out to lunch with me, just let me know. I've kinda got the lonelies now too." Mary smiled up at Sadatha and stood up quickly to kiss her on the cheek. Sadatha could feel the warmth of the girl's lips against her cheeks and before she realized what she was doing she turned to face the girl and opened her own mouth, darting out her tongue to gently caress Mary's lips. But then she stood back and giggled, hoping the young girl didn't get the wrong idea about it. But she looked at Mary and saw that she was offended by her laughing at it. She took this sort of stuff seriously! Sadatha had often wondered if any of the girl's at work went in for that sort of thing because she had often felt the impulses herself when in the dressing room. Now she smiled at Mary with more of a look of understanding than chastisement, holding the girl's hand in her own and gently stroking it as the two of them made plans for lunch. Then they stood up to change. Sadatha peeled the zipper down on the back of her print dress and asked Mary to undo the latch at the top. She knew perfectly well that she could have undone the hook herself, but she had to feel Mary's hands as they reached inside the folds of her dress and undid the metal hooks. They were so cool on the skin of her back. Tingles were running up and down her spine and she could feel the juices in her loins begin to move around. She turned her head slightly and bent down, trying to move Mary's hands up to her neck where the tingling kept increasing in strength. She didn't feel at all unnatural about it; but she did remember that they were in the dressing room and although there wasn't anybody in the dressing room right now, someone might come in. She reached around with her own hands as she turned to face Mary's now naked body. Mary reached down and hooked her thumbs on the inside of Sadatha's panties. Her thumbs pressed into the hot flesh of the black girl's abdomen, sending thrilling flashes all through the woman's body. She deliberately moved them down slowly over the woman's thighs, pressing her thumb into the cavity of her stomach, then lower onto the arch of her pubic bone, then scrapping her nails across the bristly hair of Sadatha's aroused pussy. She stared into Sadatha's sylvan eyes, hoping against hope that the woman would not protest, that she would instead smile and show the pleasure she was receiving from her attention. Sadatha looked meekly at Mary, and then both girls rushed into each other's arms, locking them around the other and holding each other tightly, whispering intimate words into the air. They squeezed each other gently, like two schoolgirls, both slightly afraid of what they were doing. But as their bodies began to warm to each other and their kisses became more insistent, they had to slow down and think about moving into another room. There was no use denying that they wanted each other. Their eager breathing and careful smiles told all that needed to be known. There was only the problem of time. For a few more minutes they talked gently to each other, sometimes cradling a breast with their fingers or pressing against a nipple with the palm of their hand. The was their bodies fit together excited Sadatha. When they squeezed against each other, breasts softly coming together, their pelvic bones pushed against the fulcrum of their mons. They could kiss down there, lips open to lips, moistness sliding between wet lips. The hairs on the outside of their cunt were stuck together with their love sweat. They rocked their hips up and down, slowly rubbing clitoris to clitoris. Every few seconds one of them would open up her eyes and look around, looking at the one open door that at any moment might be the passageway for an intruder. Their shy gasps and moments of surprise were the only sounds to be heard.
"Oh, don't!" Sadatha moaned as Mary's arm snaked down in between their heated stomachs and plunged into her black furry bush. For seconds they danced together, heads drawn back and arms grappling between them, igniting their passion. Sadatha placed her hand with its palm against Mary's bright red hair and put the middle finger solidly into the creaming slot. Then Mary did the same, so they could press against the backs of their hands and still feel the rest of their bodies pressing together. Kisses burned down the side of Sadatha's neck. Her whole body felt on fire, there was something so intriguing about how this girl felt against her, it didn't feel quite like a muscular man pressing into you, more like a soft sharing of our womanhood, an understanding of our common needs which a man might not understand. Mary knew just where to touch her, to reach inside her and quicken her ecstasy. Each probing finger and soft hip kiss of the woman sent pinpricks of fire into Sadatha's brain; she could feel her consciousness slowly leaving her; she felt like slumping, falling away, onto the ground. Her legs tensed and pushed with abandon, her arms caressing wildly. Mary squeezed against her, practically slamming her body into the black wetness, tightening her arms around the jerking muscles of the black girl's back. Suddenly they released their grip and lazily let their hands fall to their sides and they kissed for moments watching their bodies sweat and heave.
They knew they had to go somewhere. Things between them had gotten too far along to quit now. They whispered "An empty office. Yes, that would be the best. We could lock the door." Sadatha tied the terry-cloth belt to her pink dressing room robe and helped Mary slip into her blue and white kimono. They each carefully tufted their hair, teasing out the strands that had been stuck together from the sweat of their lovemaking. They held hands for a moment, and then Mary led to the way out of the room, past Sally into the office wing of the agency. Sadatha followed a few steps behind, careful to look at everything but Mary's beauty as they strolled through the corridors. Sally seemed busy with a letter and she just smiled up at them and took another hit off her lipstick-stained cigarette. They tried a few doors, once found an accountant working over some books; they hurriedly apologized and moved on to the next door. This was perfect! There was a long couch by the other side of the desk, concealed from the doorway, that offered them enough room. They rushed inside and locked the door from the inside. Now no one could get in. They still had to hurry however for they would both be on call in about twenty minutes.
Mary sat on the couch and dangled one leg over the other, tapping her slippered toe into the air. Sadatha moved over by the open window, carefully drawing the curtains that adorned this executive suite. The couch was leather and Sadatha thought it would be cold to lie on, but when she moved over to sit by the red haired collen her bare legs warmed and the leather felt soft underneath them. There was a smell of warming leather in the air. Mary held out her hand and they smiled warmly into each other's eyes. Brown and blue. Pouting lips silently greeted each other. With a rush they clasped each other, planting hard, wet kisses. Sadatha opened her lips and tongued her cheeks and her closed eyes, holding the girl's head in her hands and kissing her forehead, feeling the crown of her hair brush softly past her eyelashes. She cupped Mary's right breast in her hand, gently kneading the nodules inside of it with delicate fingers, pinching the nipple and making it draw out. "Oh Sadatha, beautiful Sadatha, this is so strange, but oh so beautiful." Sadatha pulled back "I ... I know, darling." And then quiet; their mouths opened and closed from their breathing, pulsating veins on their necks mirroring the thundering torrents inside them. Sadatha reached out with her hand and traced an outline on the inside of Mary's robe, sweetly tickling the sides of Mary's stomach. Mary smiled and pulled back the folds of her robe. Freckles ran down in patterns to her nipples, heaving with the gentle folds of her flesh. She moved her legs out from under one another and pulled the robe down to her hips. Then with a small step, she slipped the robe from under her and let it fall to her feet. She turned to Sadatha and reached for the terry-clothed belt. But Sadatha couldn't wait for her touch, she buried her face into Mary's breasts, kissing the stiffness of her rising nipples. Mary undid her belt responding to Sadatha's kisses, running her hand through the curls of black hair of Sadatha's head, now buried into the fold of her bosom. She stroked the strong black neck that blended into her shoulders. Moving her fingers up and down the skin near her spine, she caused Sadatha to moan and drop her head, lower and lower. Licking nipples and then brushing lower to the stomach, electric jolts lashing out from her tongue, stirring the muscles in the Irish girl's hips, forcing the muscles of her legs to open and close with anticipation. She gasped aloud when the black face reached down in between her legs, shoving on the back of Sadatha's neck to bury the girl's tongue into her bush. She raised her arms and leaned back on her hands, forcing her legs to part and entwine the bucking black body. She watched out of her eyes as the woman grasped her ass cheeks in her hands and raised her cunt right up into her face, her tongue probing with fiery lashes into the quick. "Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh" her breasts and chest heaved with moans, hips arching upwards toward the molesting tongue. Upwards, upwards, Mary's body fell into the rhythms, her cunt awakened and magnified with a new touch, a soft probing into her. It was the gentleness of Sadatha's movements that burned excitement all through her, the almost teasing nature of the woman's touch. Each lick of the lips across her clit seemed almost to not touch it, to just pass by it and excite it by remote control. And yet something deep inside her was responding as never before. A completeness of sensation that the girl had never found with an erect cock. She leaned full back on the couch and ran her hands up and down over the straining muscles of the black woman, wanting to feel the softness of woman flesh, wanting the touch of breasts pushing into her. There was a swimming sensation in her head-she felt as if she was violating one of the basic taboos, but she knew she needed to do just that. It was more than thrilling to feel the warmth and compassion of a woman's love. It was a revelation, an awakening that passion and sex need not be brutal and unsatisfactory, that it could be kind and reciprocal, always tender. She lay with the smooth body above her, feeling the movements between her legs as softly falling leaves. The black woman had paused and rested her head loosely in the red triangle of hair that rose above narrow hips, smelling the fragrance emanating from the moistened lips. She lifted her head sleepily from its nest, and smiled weakly at the satisfied face of Mary.
Sadatha straightened up her body and lay quietly across the slim panting form of the red haired woman, easing her cheek onto the girl's freckled breast. The sweat from their bodies washed over her senses with the smell of passionate lovemaking. The odor lingered in the air. When Sadatha opened her eyes again she began to realize where they were. The brightness of the overhead fluorescent lamps stung her eyes and she felt tense, uneasy. Mary did not move, completely relaxed and in a world of her own. Sadatha hated to move, she wanted to be wrapped up in the warmth of this girl's flesh, protected from the outside world. Just thinking about the routine of work made her cringe, and she realized that in finding Mary she had found a solution to a lot of her problems. Even that great big number one problem-Jeffery. Sadatha could remember how, in the shower just this morning, she could feel her body respond with such a completeness that she wondered why she spent so much time coddling that man's weak ego. She hadn't really noticed that her body could feel that much, and now she had tasted woman for the first time she realized more than ever the relativeness of sexual enjoyment. Even though with Jeff his cock produced the most intense sensations in her vagina, the rest of her body seemed neglected by him, as if he skipped over fondling her breasts or stimulating her clitoris with his fingers just so he could get into her all the faster. Many had been the time when Jeff had forgotten the most primary point of bedroom etiquette-waiting for your woman to be ready for your cock. She could remember one time in particular with him just after they had had an argument and they made love, trying to make up to each other. He had stabbed into her cruelly, not even waiting ten minutes after getting her panties off before he raised his fattened cock with his hand and forced the head into the dry lips of her cunt. He was so unpredictable, so immature in his ways. One day he would be itching to get into her pants and then for the next few days he would be gone over at Frank's, or at least that was where he said he was going. She realized that when she was thinking badly of Frank the money question would once again enter her head. She had tried to tell herself that she wasn't really concerned about it, that it was really his problem, not hers. But she realized with the taste of cynicism in her thoughts that she was glad that she made as much as she did, as if it set her above something, maybe set her above worrying about things as much as Jeff. He was always spouting these heavy political things about the problem of the whites and never really feeling comfortable around blacks that didn't seem to notice the outright discrimination that he saw as being everywhere. He was too young for her.
When Mary turned her head both girls got up and shyly kissed one another again before reaching down for their garments. Sadatha was still deep in thought, trying to calculate the true values of her recent experiences. Nothing seemed to fit right and she realized that sometimes it seemed as if nothing would ever be the same again for her; not just because of Mary, but her thinking about Jeff had turned her mood into a state of depression. She wanted to just get through with her day at work and then go home and go to bed. She felt exhausted and thought that her flesh around her cunt walls was more than a little sore. She moved rigidly throughout the rest of the day, having just enough strength to move her arms and body awkwardly for the photographers. This just wasn't her day. She wanted to be with Mary, she smiled at the girl when they met in the hall later on in the day, but she realized sadly that she would not want to see Mary for a little while. She had some other things to attend to first.
CHAPTER FIVE
Harley waited in the bushes outside the house with Jeff, cursing to himself that he had stubbed his toe on a sprinkler head as they snuck over the fence. Jeff looked at the house, standing dark and still in the moonlight, only a few windows with draperies brightened by inside lights. Frank and Jose should by now be on the other side of the house, jimmying the latch on the back door. Harley and Jeff had to come in the main entrance, a huge steel gate with pronged tips, carrying all the video equipment. Just as Frank had said, the two black boxes and cameras they were carrying couldn't have weighed any more than about twenty pounds apiece. They crouched low in the bushes, waiting for the signal from the house. Harley wouldn't keep quiet and Jeff had to nudge him hard to get him to shut up. No use telling the lady of the house they were coming until the very last possible minute.
Inside the house, Vivian Streams was preparing for bed. Her husband was at a faculty meeting that was convened over the problem of what to do about the building project. Apparently some dissident groups on the campus itself protested to the project, charging that it would unnecessarily displace hundreds of people whose chances of finding someplace else to live would be very slim. She couldn't understand what the problem could be that would keep her husband so late; he had telephoned and said that he wouldn't be home until well after one o'clock in the morning because he had to wait for some special representative of the militants. She had decided after a lonely dinner to go to bed at nine.
Frank Simmons was all smiles tonight. This was the one chick out of all the one's he had picked that he really wanted to give it too. For him, Vivian Streams epitomized the type of white bitch that made his blood boil with madness. She was the ail-American dumb bunny, noticed only for her protruding breasts and her intriguing figure, certainly not for her brains. She was considered the darling socialite among the faculty and board of trustee's members, always floating around the crowds at her parties with a glass in one hand and snide comment on her lips. Usually she talked about sex, for this was the only thing she probably knew anything about. Some of the other women in the college community looked down on Vivian Streams for the way she was raising her children, or rather for the way she wasn't raising her children. Her son, although only sixteen years old, had already been busted twice for smoking pot. This was the type of person Frank Simmons hated the most-the phony liberal, always talking a lot about love but never really knowing anything about it. He despised the token efforts of she and her husband to recognize the black teachers and students at the college. This woman would be the key to his whole operation. If anyone could incite the president of the college to change his mind about those threats he had been receiving, the shock of seeing his wife being raped on video tape film would surely make him change his mind fast.
Frank could hear Marti making his way through the trees in the back yard to where he stood, hunching over Jose as he tried tool after tool to trip the lock. For a few minutes it looked as if he couldn't get the lock open, it was a new one and he wasn't familiar with how it opened. But suddenly the three men heard the click of the latch and they opened the door cautiously, peering into the darkness of the back kitchen. Marti had a small flashlight in his hand and he turned it on and stepped inside the doorway-there was nothing there. They had only seen lights on in the top story of the house, and they felt positive that Vivian would be alone up there, since her kids had gone into a neighboring town to visit some of their doper friends with their parent's permission. Frank moved confidently after Marti, assured that his calculations had been right. He looked at where the light was shining into the main hallway. The house was certainly ornate! They had chandeliers in the hallway, and the wallpaper was that kind that had stripes of velvet running up and down it. Now to the front door.
Frank lifted the curtain that guarded the windows set into the wall on either side of the heavy, oak door. He couldn't see anyone out there although he knew for certain that Jeff and Harley would be there, over by that clump of bushes just fifty yards off to Frank's right. He took the flashlight from Marti and flashed the light once, twice, three times towards the bushes. They should have started to make their way across the front lawn when they saw the light. This was the most dangerous part of the foray. Harley and Jeff had to cross the only open ground on the estate, and it was positioned right underneath the bedroom windows of the president and his wife. If she should look out and see them carrying the boxes towards the front door, the men wouldn't have a chance to escape because she could have called the police and locked herself in before they could get to her. Frank and Jose strained their ears to hear the woman's footsteps on the floor above them, hoping that she wasn't near the window. They could only hear water running from some bathroom upstairs; good, this probably meant that she was taking a bath or a shower.
Two dark shapes materialized near the front door, neither one making the slightest sound. They were ushered into the house with hushed silence, setting down their boxes as they stepped over the threshold. Marti and Jose tore into them, reaching for their equipment in the darkness and expertly putting the cables and connectors into place, hefting the cameras to their shoulders. Jeff, since he was the softest on his feet, would go up the stairway first. After he signaled the okay the rest would follow and hopefully get to her before she had much of a chance to scream and attract some attention. Jose finished clipping the supporting straps for his shoulder camera and patted Frank on the shoulder. Everything was ready.
Jeff slipped around the landing at the top of the stairs and tried to see some light from someplace upstairs. There wasn't the barest sliver, so he followed the small hall to the right where it appeared to go into a more private part of the house. The walls seemed to be haunted with the presence of hundreds of people. As he ran his finger around the delicate stucco molding he could almost hear the cocktail chatter and see the long chiffon gowns of the women as they partied it up with the college president and his lovely wife. Jeff could remember what Vivian Streams looked like from the one time he had seen her with Streams at graduation last year. She was a haughty blonde with insulting manners, but she carried a fine body and she knew it! He felt more than a little paranoid about just walking into her house and taking her. It was like raping a movie star or something, she was so beautiful and so untouchable. As he approached a closed doorway at the end of the hall, he thought he could hear singing.
As he pressed his ear against the door, he could hear the splashing sound of falling water and the lilting voice of the woman he was looking for. She was in the tub! He could hear the water running off her fingers as she washed herself. He carefully put his hand to the knob of the door and tried to turn it slowly, confident that the bathroom was at least two or three rooms away. Locked! Nothing to do but try a different route. He retraced his steps back to where he took the turn at the top of the stairwell. Following along the left wall, he could see that this hallway turned sharply near the end, and there was the barest sliver of light peeking out from around the corner! He hurriedly padded down to the corner, craned his neck around the wall, and discovered an open door. It led into a bedroom and from the other side of the door he could see the door to the bathroom, left completely wide open. He was staring right at the gorgeous woman as she raised her ankle, and she couldn't see him at all! Very slowly, Jeff backed out of the bedroom and returned to the bottom of the stairs to where the other men were waiting. He quickly whispered to them how lucky they were, she couldn't possibly defend herself.
The five men walked into the open bedroom with their mouths dropped to the ground. She had stood up and was beginning to towel herself off. They just stood there in the doorway, totally enraptured by the sight of her smooth, white flesh. She raised the towel to one of her breasts and gently dried off the nipple. Jeff could hear the almost silent whir of the cameras and knew that the boys had already started taping. The woman placed one foot up on the edge of the tub, and as she toweled off her leg the men could see the short blonde cunt hairs matted down over the front of her body with wetness. Jeff could feel the cock in his pants begin to rise and yet he didn't dare make a sound, not yet. Vivian Streams stood outlined in the open door of the bathroom, her body and actions totally exposed to the waiting quintet outside in her room. She stepped completely out of the tub now, running the yellow towel up and over her body, completely drying off her delicately shaded skin. Jeff watched the towel as it dipped in between her legs and she stretched her knee out to wrap the towel over her crotch and rub herself dry. The hairs over her cunt were the silkiest Jeff had ever seen, springing out over the ruddy red of her slit like smoke. He watched as the towel exposed the inward curve of her stomach as it plunged downward to meet the downy rise of her pubic bone. Just absolutely beautiful. He was right to feel fearful about this woman, she was everything that the white man considered beautiful, perfectly shaped and with large jutting tits. The nipples on her stood out with tumescent hardness, no doubt reacting to the suddenly cold air after the shower.
She lowered her chest to the ground as she stroked her feet and her breasts swung slightly in the steamy air of the bathroom. Jeff thought he could hear one of the men moan slightly under his breath, but she didn't seem to notice anything was wrong. She reached over to the plat formed sink and took up her silky yellow negligee and reached up with it over her head. As she stretched her arms up in the air to put the garment over her the men could see the breasts and rib cage stretch out, nipples protruding and sensuously soft-looking. Jeff couldn't wait for anything else to happen, he just had to get into that piece of ass, but as he lunged for the open door he got shoved back by Frank. Frank wanted to be first; well, let him, none of this would have been possible without him, Jeff thought. Marti reached back and pulled the light switch on the wall and the woman screamed.
Frank was in the bathroom before she could even really begin to get going, she had her arms out in front of her to protect herself and to hide the hair of her cunt from their view. She opened her eyes full and her lips snarled back with an expression of utter fear. She asked them what they wanted, calling them boys as if they were too young to do anything about someone who was as much of a woman as she, but it didn't work. Frank kept relentlessly advancing on her, stopping only to pull the end of the towel away from her clutching fists. She cowered into the corner, hitting out at Frank's strong arms as he reached for her and snapped off the tips of his trousers. He laughed loudly at her when she reached for a crystal perfume container and threw it at him, glass shattering on the marbled floor. Then he lashed out with his arm and pulled her wrist, dragging her limp form out of the bathroom completely and twisting her forcibly around so she flew out of his grasp onto the bedspread. Her legs splayed out for a moment and then she tried to stand up on the bed, only to stumble in a heap of long blonde hair as Frank stepped up onto the raised, king-sized bed. His pants were off and all he wore was a greasy white T-shirt. His cock was already pointing upward from his dark, hairy body, thickly engorged with blood. She screamed only once more before he had his hands slapped over her mouth and jabbed his knee into her hips, forcing her body to lie still for a moment and stop kicking around. Frank found just enough time to throw his body on top of hers and press her down to the bed. Her breath was heaving into his face and sweat covered her brow. He could feel the strength in her back as she twisted her breasts underneath his shirt, trying to writhe away from his crushing body, trying to escape this madness. But every effort of her heaving back and hips only made him force himself into her all the harder, his thick tool pointing into the soft flesh of her legs. Tears ran down the side of one of her cheeks, and the expression of her eyes appealed to the man on top of her for mercy. She felt panic churn her stomach until it felt as if she were going to vomit-she could hardly breathe through the clenched fingers of the huge black man that was hurting her. Frank reached down and took the fabric of the negligee and ripped it from bottom to top, slapping her breasts with the backs of his hands as he did so and making her cry out from pain. The material just lay on either side of her lush body, framing it as in a sexy looking picture of a naked woman, her breasts sprawled obscenely under the shoulders of the black marauder.
Frank raised his prick with his hand and felt the stiffness as he wrapped his fingers around his head; then, reaching up with his hand, he spit into the palm and rubbed the moistness onto his iron hard tip, sliding it off his hand into the quivering form of the woman, just missing the outer edges of her cunt. She screamed once again and bit his hand, now furiously moving and bucking, trying to get away, but Frank got his arm over her face and forced her head down cruelly onto the mattress, wrenching her back. She lay still, convinced that she had lost the battle, knowing that there was nothing that she could do now to stop all these men from ravaging her right on the spot. Her mind seemed to give out inside her and she felt her entire body tense up, waiting for the pain that would surely come when the man on top of her stabbed into her cunt. She was terrified, hoping against all hope that they would not hurt her, but she knew that to be a forlorn hope.
Frank stabbed into her once again, this time hitting her square in the middle of her wetness, feeling the tip slide into her for a few inches. Then he shoved and felt the shaft of his rod bend as it cruelly rubbed against the walls of her cunt and forced open her clenched vagina. He could feel the softness of her cunt wrap around his erection. He had never felt any woman as soft inside as this one and the thought spurred into his brain, unleashing all of his most potent fantasies and making him ready for the fuck of his life! He pistoned into her with brute force, not minding the squirms and painful contractions of the woman's stomach beneath him, content only to shove into her with all of his might. He pummeled her into the mattress, forcing her legs to give way partly and accept his lungings. With each heavy slap of his body against her, her breath was pushed out of her in pitiful little sobs. Her neck was arched completely back into the pillows and her face was contorted with the searing pain coming from her violated cunt. She thought frantically about how she could accommodate him to make it easier on her own body, but the man had such a firm grip on her with his arms and legs that she couldn't move herself if she wanted to. Frank groaned and shouted as he pounded into her juice-filled hole, feeling his cock deeply embedded in her grasping and tight-fitting sheath; her body was pinned inflexible beneath him and he could tell that with each push into her he was forcing the muscles and ligaments of her legs and stomach to snap. He could feel her try to lift up her hips to make the angle better for her but he pushed down on her again and continued thrusting into her so it would hurt.
The hatred in his blood for the white bitch he had been taught to worship was blinding him to all other sensations. He wanted more than anything to kill this body beneath him, to thrust into it and stab sadistically deep until she was impaled on his heavy cock like it was a knife. He didn't want her to enjoy one single thrust of his rod; he only wanted her to feel that here was a man that couldn't be manipulated, that couldn't be handled, that could only be suffered. There was no way that she was going to adjust to the size of his rampaging cock-he wanted it to be too big for her, too huge, so that she would suffer with every fearful blow of his gargantuan prick. He could feel the sperm in him rising in his system to where it could shoot out his cock and he cursed himself for being so weak that he would ejaculate before he made this woman cry out for mercy. He wanted to shove into her again and again with all the punishment his granite hard cock could muster; he didn't want to come, he wouldn't, he just wouldn't let the sight of her perfect body affect him, he had to hate her!
The woman grasped his hand over her mouth and wrenched them away to shout into the air. "God Damn You, You're KILLING ME." But Frank hit her hard with his fist and felt his body shake with orgasm as her voice cringed away into silence and convulsing sobs wracked her body. Jet after jet his bursting come shot into her with the force of his balls, tightly tucked under the glistening length of his shaft. He pulled out of her with a sudden jerk and looked at how her legs were twisted under him; they looked like they had been broken at her hips and he could see flecks of come sprinkled over her bush. The sight of his come so freely given enraged him beyond control and he hit her again and again with his fists until a trickle of blood escaped out over her bottom lip. He thought he could feel the bones break in her cheek as he slammed his knuckles into her face.
Jeff moved quickly and tied Frank's arms in a hammer-lock before the exploded temper of the rapist could lash out at the woman once again. For a moment Frank just stood there on his knees over the prostrate form of the beaten girl, completely unaware that there was anyone else in the room, and then slowly his head turned until he could see the lenses of the cameras reflect his glaring teeth and snarling eyes. Then he looked over in back of him at Jeff, and started to get off the bed. Jeff took his place on top of the woman and felt her soft flesh riddled with sweat, every muscle in her body tensing and then relaxing, trying to adjust to the pain that was coursing through every limb of her body.
He reached for her wrists and stretched them out to either side of the bed, feeling her move them with weakening resistance. He glanced quickly at the other members of his gang and smiled. This broad was the best thing he had ever seen in his entire life and he just might spend another lifetime before he could find anything so perfectly beautiful. Watching Frank brutalize her with his rapid fucking had only increased his desire to fuck her even more. He noticed that her cunt was wet and opening and closing, waiting for his organ to thrust into her. Vivian Streams, the woman who stood for the perfection of the educational community, lay sprawled on the green bedspread, helpless to resist the gang rape of five black studs. She felt as if her whole life had been turned around this night. She would never be the same again, not after what these men were doing to her. Her mind was quick to surmise every sexual situation that she came across, and she prided herself on the discrete way she handled her affairs with the other men on the faculty, but nothing in her life had prepared her for this! She had never been conquered before, never even given the slightest amount of static when it came time for her lover's to submit to her every sexual whim. That was why this rape split her mind in two and destroyed her conception of herself as a feminine prize in a world of easily acquired men. Although she had certainly been subjugated intellectually many times before, she had never felt the hardness of a man, never realized the real brutality that frustration would drive a man to. She felt herself a sacrifice to the greed of the whites; these men were revenging their years of frustration on her body, and she almost convinced herself that this was a just and right thing for them to do.
This man on top of her was strong and young, and from the way his eyes flashed at her as he pulled her legs up to her open and exposed chest she could tell that he wanted to consume her very being and make her cry out with abandonment. There was only one thing she could do: she reached down with her hand and guided the huge black cock that was battering into her flesh so eagerly. She grasped its huge head in her hands and arched her hips and flattened legs up towards his lungings, shoving his tip into her gaping hole. She moved her head over to the left side of her body where she could see the faces of the other men, but bright lights coming from something that one of the men held near his face prevented her from seeing them. With his first slow thrust into her gaping hips, she closed her eyes and sighed slowly, feeling the slickened walls of her cunt slide easily now down onto the stiff rod. She could feel the muscles of her abdomen constrict with pleasure for the first time, and she wrapped her arms around the hulking figure and moaned softly while she kissed his ear. Jeff could feel her responding to him and decided that this would be the best way. He needed her to answer his body's presence because he was terrified of what she represented. The only way he could feel anything from her was if she should willingly take her into him as she had done and move with him as they jerked together on the bed.
He forgot why he was here and instead concentrated all his energies on making true love to the woman offering herself to him. He felt the softness of her breasts rubbing on his hairy chest and grasped her firmly around her shoulders to press her ribs and hollowed hips to his straining body. His cock plunged into the deepest parts of her since her hips were fully drawn up towards him, her ankles crushed underneath his shoulders and her fleshy legs spread out from the sides of his body. He drew his body in and out of her with deliberate slowness, feeling the tensions in her body drive her on to climaxing. She relaxed her arms and legs and let him do it to her. The way she had her body up close to his reminded him of how Sadatha made love. With a sudden flinch he realized why he had been so frightened with this Vivian woman. She had reminded him of all the things that Sadatha really meant to him, her richness and sensually combined with physical perfection that made him almost want to worship. The blonde that he was so carefully filling with his manhood was also radiantly beautiful in her own way, her own kind of excellence. It was not that he felt beneath them, he hurriedly thought, but they were such exceptional women in their own right that they deserved the best in treatment from any man that should have them sexually.
He realized that his thoughts were wandering off and he could feel his erection slackening a little bit because of it. The woman was clinging to him more fervently than ever and he realized that he had been pumping her at the same steady slowness for about five minutes-no wonder she was so hot! He slowed down momentarily and held onto her shoulders with his hands, as if motioning for her to stop and let him gather his strength. Jeff felt so enraptured by his presence within her that he could not force himself to take her for his own enjoyment. Instead her involvement in their fucking mattered to him and he needed to be with her as she reached up into him for the source of her blinding orgasm. He molded her flesh with the side of his arms and felt for the flesh of her ass, awakening every part of her body to his caresses. She reached up again with her lips kissed his head with soft brushings of her lips. A cool breeze tickled across the tips of her breasts, and she gathered herself closer together under the warming body of the young man on top of her.
Jeff could feel his power returning to his cock almost immediately after he started to pump into her again. Her cunt muscles were clasped eagerly around his rod and he had no trouble feeling her tightening up inside with every heated thrust. Her crotch area came up to meet his with each stroke. She felt the last resistance inside her give way and then she clapped her hands on his ass, prodding him and telling him to hurry inside her. Her noises were gasping and hurried, her hips reaching up with all her strength to impale herself all the faster on his skillful rod. She opened up the very insides of her being to meet him; there was something about the way this boy was fucking her that made her feel as if she had never had a cock this good inside, never in her life did it feel so good. Even her husband Richard had never stirred her up so much!
Jeff gripped her tightly and increased the tempo of his thrusts, perfectly matching the upward movements of the heaving woman beneath him, plunging the wet cock into her with small jerking motions against the sides of her cunt, teasing her unbearably before the final series of deep penetrations. She was bucking wildly now and calling out for more, begging him to hurry and finish her off, wanting him to shove his entire length into her and hold it there while she got off on his stiffness rubbing against her. The endless stimulation from the perfect lover on top of her was driving her crazy, she didn't know whether she could stand any more of it, and the thought that her body was not to finish with this man but that it had to be fucked by three others made her frustration even greater. She felt as if she was servicing the entire world tonight in her own bedroom; if she only could have known this was going to happen she would have been more prepared for what was happening to her body. The first man who raped her had torn her up inside and made her body wince with the unceasing pain. But this man knew how to love, and she needed him, she needed just one remembrance of what a man and a woman should be together before the other three rapists got to her and finished her off for good.
Vivian's hair was completely plastered to the sides of her head because of the sweat from their bodies, her face twisting and breaking on the surface of the bedspread, eyes curving back into her head and arms thrown out with ecstatic abandonment, waiting for the moment when her entire body would freeze on the end of this long cock and her head would explode. Jeff had his hands on the cheeks of her ass and he lifted them towards him brutally with each deep thrust, his cock and her cunt in perfect position for the other, the hard rod just barely fitting into the lubricated walls of her all consuming hole. Every part of the blonde bombshell's body was glued to him like she never wanted to be separated from him, every muscle straining to make them one person forever. She felt the short curly hair on his head and kissed him as he plunged in to stay, only moving a couple of inches out and then rushing back into her again with all of his force. Her body felt on fire in a million different places, every cell in her system ignited by the thick pole that was making a woman out of her like no other man's flimsy cock had ever done. She felt her hips spread even further apart to encompass even more of his body, the heat building in her brain and the waves of sensations radiating from her heated box up through her body, totally engulfing her senses. She thrust out her body, lifting them both several inches off the bed, and cried out more and more, slapping him harder and harder, trying to shove and push her way onto his rod so she would never have to not have it in her.
Then Jeff answered her cries with his own savage grunts as he lost all control over the lovemaking and lashed into her with a frenzied heart, feeling the come rise in his balls and his cock inflame and harden even more. Her whole cunt was open to him, the lips juicy red and swollen from the constant probings. His hardened balls slapped against them, driving her past the point of no return. Her hands clenched into fists and she drove the points of her nails into his heaving back. "Oh, Oh, OH, OH, AWW, AWRH." Her voice reached a feverish pitch and then her legs shot out over him, the feet and toes trembling and vibrating as the final grip of her cunt shot starlight into her brain. Her mouth opened for one last wail and then her head jerked back, her breasts pointing with all her force into the barrel chest of the black rapist, his body thundering down on top of her. Huge goblets of sperm laced into her cunt again and again, coating the bruised flesh with red-hot liquid.
Her legs fell back onto the bed and her face buried itself into the folds of the pillow. The sight of the other men and the bright lights frightened her; she lay still and quiet, nothing of life visible in her but the slow rise of her breasts as she tried to regain her breath. Jeff had only a few moments to lay on top of her and enjoy the lush steaminess of a woman spent, when someone gripped his shoulders and tried to shove him aside. Jeff reached up and tried to rise up off of her on his knees, but his leg got tangled up with hers and when he got he inadvertently pushed into her leg with his elbow, making her shout and whimper, trying to pull in her legs close to her chest and holding them there with her arms, protecting herself. When Jeff got up off the bed he looked sleepily at the next man: it was Harley. He had all his clothes off and his boner was already completely soaked with fluid. No doubt he had been masturbating while he watched them. There was a sick looking leer on Harley's face and Jeff wondered if the man was in another one of his sadistic moods. He didn't want to watch.
Jeff stepped over to where Marti and Jose were manning the equipment and picked up his trousers from the floor. Frank was standing over near the window, looking down on the driveway. He was smoking a cigarette and looked calm and pleased with himself. Jeff moved over to where his friend was standing, feeling a great deal of exhaustion course through his body. The woman had been so good, such a fine lay. He almost wished he could protect her from the other men, take her away some place where they could be alone together and they could love in their own way. But he knew that that was impossible. There would never be a way for a black man like him to pick up on a woman like that. This was the only way the two of them would ever meet: as rapist and victim. Perhaps that was the way it should be, he thought somberly.
Frank smiled up at him with the same look of tiredness on his face, offering him a cigarette from a half-empty pack. Jeff took it, although he normally didn't smoke, and looked over quickly at what Harley was going to do to her. Sure enough, he had her in tears already, pinching the nipples of her sweat covered breasts and crudely gouging his fingernails into the smooth cunt walls, tearing at her flesh. The screams coming from the woman were piercing and unpleasant, and Jeff wished he could at least stuff something in her mouth so he wouldn't have to suffer hearing her cry's of torment when Harley really got down to his tricks. He took a long drag on the cigarette and joined Frank in his vigil, wishing the night were already over. But he knew that he still had quite a bit of work left. For one thing they had to quickly return to Frank's pad and run through the tapes that Marti and Jose were taking right now to weed out all the shots that showed any of their faces. And then because Frank had the idea to set up tonite as the big meeting between the trustee members of the college and the first showing of the video tapes they had to rush them over to the campus, being extremely careful that no one would see them deliver the film cans to the hall where the trustees were no doubt lying in wait with about a hundred cops for them to arrive.
Jeff wished that everything didn't have to be so hurried; he wanted some time to enjoy this woman, for instance, a little bit longer than he would be able to. But when he heard her scream at the top of her lungs once more as Harley committed another bestial act on her flesh, Jeff was glad that soon this whole thing would be all over. He was getting tired of seeing the woman's faces that he was making love to cringe with horror, even though Vivian Streams had been a really responsible lay he still wanted some woman who would really reach up for his body with tenderness and affection. He was tired of forcing himself, he needed acceptance. Even though things with Sadatha had been rocky the last few weeks because of his strange excuses why he couldn't make love to her, he realized that she was the woman that he really loved and that he wanted to be an equal with her, or rather he wanted to be her equal only in the amount of love and true tenderness that they could exchange.
He turned once more towards the scene on the bed. Vivian was being forced to suck on his cock, and Harley cruelly ground her face towards his glistening erection, shoving the length of his cock way past her mouth into the bowels of her throat. Jeff could hear her gag and cough, she couldn't even breathe and still Harley wanted her to eat more of it. Jeff felt nausea rise in his stomach and he turned back to the darkened window, inhaling once more on his cigarette before stamping it out with his foot on the floor. He felt the most rigid disgust overwhelm him, he wanted to strike out at the cruel fate that made some women easily available to him and others hopelessly inaccessible. This Vivian Streams had him enraged. Why did she have to be raped to feel anything? Jeff was sure that she had never been loved like he had done to her, how could everything be so screwed up as to allow this? With rage boiling inside of him Jeff stepped over to the night stand and with one swoop of his arm threw all the perfume and lotion bottles against the mirror, instantly shattering it into a million glittering fragments. The lights from the cameras reflected off the glass on the floor like it was a field of diamonds. Frank came over to where Jeff was struggling to get a hold of himself and ripped down the canopy over the bed, throwing it down over the fragments of mirror. Jeff could see that the same frustration was getting to Frank; with every pain that sent the woman screaming for relief as her head lingered on the borders of unconsciousness the two men picked up some object in the room and sent it hurtling to the floor. They shattered the glass in the windows, picked up chairs and tables and splintered the wood onto the ground. They picked up and threw everything onto the ground or against the walls, trying to destroy every possession of these glorified white people, trying to take away their riches and tear down their invulnerable image, trying to reduce the entire house into the dust from which it came.
And all the while two barely humming cameras swooped around the room and picked up ever act of carnage, blazing lights forever impressing the madness of the rapists onto film. One cameraman handed the camera to the other as he peeled off his trousers and rubbed his hardening cock, watching the degradation of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
CHAPTER SIX
Frank Streams waited with the others, tired of hearing their complaints. The other men lounged in stuffed leather couches and sipped their martinis and scotches slowly, watching the clock. A couple of them had grumbled openly to Streams, calling this another one of his harebrained ideas. Why should they worry over a small group of black radicals who could only write threatening letters and rape a few of the college women? This meeting couldn't have meant that Streams was giving in to them, they realized that, but nevertheless they couldn't see the necessity in waiting up half the night just to talk to one of the members of the cadre. There didn't seem to be any purpose to it.
Streams himself was clicking his fingernails nervously on the walnut of the table top, feeling the pressure from the board members. He also didn't want to respond to that last letter, dated just two days ago, which said that they should wait here for a man with important information which would permanently affect the building project. Negotiations with the contractors and with the city had reached a critical stage and nothing in the way of difficulty could come up now without causing a lot of complications, so he took the letter seriously. He already had been in constant contact with the police patrols that had started sweeping over the campus after the first series of rapes had begun. They had reported no news other than a steady increase in the attacks. After his children had told him about their rape on the mountain in broad daylight, he had been shaken up completely. He could still vividly remember the night when Vickie, at dinnertime, had suddenly broken into tears and got up and ran out of the dining room. His wife Vivian stood up and followed her, determined to find out what this sudden outbreak of tears was all about. She thought at first that one of her boyfriends had done something to her, something that started with "p" and ended with "t". She felt a wave of guilt that she hadn't been paying more attention to the child, but at least now she could have a heart to heart talk with her daughter and catch up on things. But Vickie didn't want to talk, she said that it was too horrible, that she never wanted to speak about it. Vivian straightened up and looked right into Vickie's perfect brown eyes and thought that her greatest fear for her daughter had somehow already happened to her and she had been able to do nothing about it! She hugged Vickie and made her promise to tell her mother everything that had happened to her.
That night as Mr. and Mrs. Streams prepared for bed, Vivian broke the news to Richard. She was in hysterics and begged Richard to do something about it; if possible, she wanted him to kill the bastards that had raped their daughters. She said that they would carry the scar they got from that experience for the rest of their lives, that it would shape all their relationships with men, make them fear boys for what they could do to them. Richard remembered feeling the same way and wanted to right then and there call the police, but Vivian wouldn't hear of it. She said that the girls would have to be questioned about everything that had happened. She wanted Richard to wait for a couple of weeks before he called the police; he also had to make sure that no reporters got wind of what was happening out at the college, there were too many things to consider. Trying to soothe his wife by stroking on her exposed breasts with his hands, he told her that he knew why his daughters were raped by the two black strangers. He told her all the details, how they were going to build a stadium and all make millions off the deal. Everyone was happy about it except the people who lived on the property they were going to convert. A small number of black male students on the campus had demonstrated and then went underground when their demonstrations weren't achieving enough response from him, the president of the college. They were writing him letters, saying that they would rape so many students and faculty wives a week until their demands were met. Vivian seemed horrified when she heard this, especially when Richard told her how many girls had already been raped and how none of the attackers had ever been caught or even adequately described. She begged him to reconsider and give in to the radicals, stopping the project just long enough for the police to conclude the investigation and apprehend the militants, and then beginning the land-clearing again after it was safe to do so. But Richard wouldn't listen to her.
Streams felt bad inside when he remembered saying no to her. Didn't she know that there was nothing he wanted more than to have their daughters safe and free from such grisly experiences? He wanted more than anything else in the world to catch those bastards and drag them through the streets with baling hooks strung through their balls! But his hands were tied, there was simply nothing he could do about it. The building must go up, and any delay means a loss of thousands, perhaps millions, of dollars. Damn them all anyway! Didn't they have any shred of humanity left to them? Them and their goddamned dollar! He wished he could just stand up and, right in the middle of their empty chattering, tell them all that he was resigning and then tell them all to go to hell. Nothing would have made him feel better. Anything, anything in the world to be free of this nightmare!
"It's already 11:30 Richard. Don't you think the letters might just be the work of a crackpot? And if he is, then why are we waiting right here where he wants us to be. Maybe he's got some kinda bomb planted in the basement of the building ... " He went on and on but Richard just watched the creases of his forehead roll up and the skin of his face turn red. Everyone's feeling the tension. It's getting right down to the wire. He didn't blame the old geezer, but he sure as all hell wished he would shut up! He thought he had already explained that the police were here in droves tonight. Not only had the entire building been checked out from top to bottom, but there were at least fifty plainclothes cops patrolling the campus on the lookout for any black male.
"Mr. Streams, Mr. Streams, some guy just handed this to me and then drove off real quick," a panting student held a small black package in his hand, carefully wrapped with twine. Streams walked over to where the young man stood and grasped the package from his hands.
"Ah, yes, here's the film. Are we ready gentleman? Thank you sir," he motioned to the boy and then turned.
"You're welcome, Mr. Streams," the boy said, and then left.
"What film are you talking about, Richard, we didn't come here to watch movies." Streams noticed that the more this guy huffed and puffed about things, the closer he looked to a heart attack. His face was almost beat red now and yet he was still trying to shout above the rest to get Streams's attention.
"Gentlemen, Gentlemen, please. Let us see what the night has brought us." So saying he laid the package down on the table and carefully unwrapped the string. There was a note attached to the underneath. Streams read it aloud:
"Mr. Streams and his pig conspirators against the people: This package contains one videotape. To play it you need only request the college video playback machine, which is located at present in Room 311-C. It is an easy machine to operate and the instructions as printed on its surface will be quite sufficient. This is a film of people close to you, perhaps someone you see every day. Your wife might be one of our interesting subjects, or perhaps your daughter. We have tried hard not to discriminate and have chosen only the women we thought would be most interesting to you, the audience. ALL POWER TO THE PEOPLE!!! DO NOT BUILD THAT STADIUM OR THE SLAUGHTER OF HILSEN COLLEGE WILL CONTINUE." Streams folded up the paper and looked around the room. There, that should have gotten to them. Everything else I've said here as just gone in one ear and out the other, but maybe this might be the proof they need that there indeed was a dangerous situation present on the campus of Hilsen, something so evil and so against their masculinity that it must be stomped out, at the cost of all other prerogatives.
The machine was brought in from the other room but it took a couple of the men thirty more minutes to get the reel properly threaded onto the machine. When they signaled that they were ready, the men grabbed their drinks and found a chair near the machine. It had a full 26 inch tube in it, so it was just like looking at an average size television screen. They flipped the lights and then started the tape.
The first thing they saw was Frank's cock, huge and hairy and looking like it was popping off the screen. The men looked at it in disgust, some even turning away as if they were being forced to look at excrement. Then the screen moved slightly and Streams could recognize a bedspread just like his own and then a pair of opened thighs with blonde pubic hair just like his own wife's. He jumped up out of his chair when he saw her face wince as the camera took a slow pan over her body. The other men turned back toward the screen now and watched in embarrassed silence. The sight of Vivian Streams' body made their eyes light up with excitement. Streams himself walked out of the room and went for the nearest phone.
The other men made themselves comfortable, loosening their ties and snuggling down into the chairs, preparing for what was obviously going to be a steamy night. Most of them had never seen the attractive body of the college president's wife before and they sat spellbound as the hulking black body plowed so callously and viciously into her. The contrast of black body on white seemed perverted to them, something indecent that nevertheless excited them unbearably. They wished that it could have been one of them that was fucking her rather than that black stud on the screen. There was a sound track too and they listened to her screams of agony as the hard dry shaft of the rapist plunged into her unprepared cunt, forcing the muscles in her legs to spasm. They sat and watched as each violent lunge tore into her and made her shout all the louder, her body obviously undergoing a great deal of pain. Some of the men were breathing heavily just watching the video and they shifted about uneasily in their chairs. All eyes were glued to the twisting bodies on the tube, until suddenly the picture shifted and they were looking at another man fucking the impeccable beautiful Vivian Streams. This one was moving a little slower and they could watch the slow rise and fall of her body as it came up to meet his. This vignette was much more stimulating to watch since you could see every part of her body moving in time with the rapist's. The muscles of her stomach rippled with every thrust, and her face gradually assumed the contorted mask of the ecstatic woman, leaning back into the pillow with her back arched towards the huge fucking prick of the nigger. When she reached down to kiss him on the head a couple of the men in the audience gasped, shocked that she would reciprocate with the likes of the man that was fucking her, but when they saw his cock fully stiffened and moving so erotically around the lips of her cunt they could tell why she kissed him with so much fervor. He was giving her one hell of a good fuck!
The tape changed scenes again and they saw a third man positioned over the cringing body of the voluptuous blonde. They could never see the various faces of the attackers, but they could see every expression of the violated woman as she went through her ordeal. This next rapist attacked her nipples and genitals with his hands and fingers right off, causing her to shout out, screaming for him to stop. The men in the room flinched when they heard those screams; from watching the hands of the rapist they thought he was killing the woman, twisting her tender flesh until he ruptured the walls of her womb and left her bleeding to die. They were sure that the end of the film would show a dead woman lying sprawled out on the bedroom floor of the president's mansion. The beast who was mauling her seemed to take delight in her screaming and even forced her to scream louder, holding her breasts in such an iron grip that the ends of her nipples turned white from the lack of blood. It almost made them sick to watch.
Suddenly the film changed again. This time the scene changed, no longer was the camera indoors; instead, the viewers could see long rolling fields and the large constructed towers of high-voltage lines. This must be some place in the country, they thought, I wonder who is the next victim? The back of a man turned towards the camera partially blocked their view, but when a bicyclist appeared from the far distance the man in the picture suddenly disappeared. They all watched, spellbound, as the cyclist came closer and closer to where the camera was located. It appeared to be a girl, about the age of 18 or thereabouts, with short brown hair and large breasts, swinging freely with each downward stroke of the pedals. She was obviously not wearing a bra, and the men in the room delighted in her body as it was reflected in the sunlight filtering through the trees that lined the path. "It's my daughter," one of the men said, and he held his head in hands, afraid to watch. The other men felt some common bond of sympathy for a moment but then they returned to their entertainment. The girl was wearing a long skirt, a bit out of fashion, but then she appeared to be unsophisticated and innocent so it did not seem unusual for her to be wearing the skirt on such a Sunday outing as this. The camera zoomed up and they could see her smiling in the sunlight, perfectly content to be so close to nature's marvels.
As she approached the camera, a figure in blue jeans and T-shirt jumped out in front of her. She slowed the bike and looked warily at the tall, Negro stranger, letting the front wheel of the bicycle wobble a bit as she lowered her feet to the ground. She stopped just a few years away from him and looked deeply into his face, trying to read his expression. Suddenly she knew what was about to happen for she turned the wheel quickly and vainly tried to peddle off in the opposite direction, but a black hand reached out grabbed the top of her blouse, ripping the corner off of it as he tumbled her off the bike. She screamed and swung at him, but he grabbed her arm and led her off into the bushes, dragging her feel behind her. The men watched as her legs dangled and one of her shoes fell off in the grass. Then they heard another scream and the camera swung over to capture the scene, the black man now towering above her frail, trembling figure with his hands on the edges of her upraised skirt. With one swift movement he tore at the skirt, ripping it completely off her body and exposing her panties and boobs, so pale and tender looking in the afternoon sunlight. She got up to run, but the man was down on her now, his pants off and his erection reaching for the sky. He grappled with the girl for a moment and then threw her to the ground where he leapt on her like some animal out of the jungle, impaling her with one swift, savage stroke. Her face completely spasmed and her mouth opened to emit the longest, most heart rendering scream any of the men in the room had ever heard. Her legs were pinned underneath the man and she couldn't move in any direction, her ass being bumped on the ground as she tried to move, only to be impaled deeply again and forced to the grass. For a few minutes everyone watched in silence as the man grunted to his climax and the girl just lay there, frozen into shock.
The men were moved beyond words by the expression on the girl victim's face. None of them had ever witnessed a rape before but they thought they had a good idea of what it would be like if they ever did see a woman getting raped. But the sight of this innocent girl splayed out on the lawn with the huge organ of a black molester impronged into her was something out of a nightmare. They had always believed that all the women who screamed rape didn't really have something to scream about, but now they knew better. This girl was obviously suffering a great deal of pain; her mind would not forget this episode for years.
Relentlessly, the camera shifted scene again. This was a night scene for they could see streetlights glimmering on the street scene that was on the tube. They all leaned forward, trying urgently to recognize the street. If Streams had just found out what happened to his own wife, how many of them were in for the same surprise tonite? The uneasiness grew in the room and many of them lit cigarettes and puffed nervously in silence. The camera seemed to be taking a walk down the street, moving slowly down the sidewalk.
"It's the audacity of these rats that kills me," huffed one of the board members. The rest made sounds of agreement and then looked at the screen. The camera stopped in front of one of the houses, a tract home it looked like, with yellow painted stucco and an asphalt driveway. The camera walked confidently up the driveway, even though there was a car parked right in front of the house. No one knew this house, so maybe this next scene wouldn't involved anyone they knew. Suddenly the camera swerved and pointed at the side of the house where a small pathway connected the front with the back yard. Down this pathway the camera went, stopping to look into an open louvered window. A woman in her thirties was washing dishes, stacking them up to dry on a wire rack. She was wearing a yellow chiffon dress, one piece, with a cute freckled face with large blue eyes. She seemed tired, as if this was the end of a long day for her. One of the men in the chairs spoke up: "It's my daughter, married; lives in that development outside the city. If they have hurt her I'll kill every one of the bastards," he shouted hoarsely, completely aware that if anything did happen to his daughter he was certainly too late to do anything about it. The camera watched her for only a few more minutes, then she put aside the last dish and wiped her hands dry on the kitchen towel that was strung through the handle of the refrigerator.
The scene shifted to the front door. Another black in blue jeans was knocking frantically on the door, saying that he had to use the phone because there had been a serious accident outside. The men watched with nervous anticipation as the door barely opened, held in place by a chain latch. "Good Girl!" her father shouted, "keep that nigger outside." But as soon as he finished shouting the door was wrenched open by another man who ran up to join the other one as they barreled their way into the house. The shot changed to inside the house, where two of the men already had her bound up in their arms, hands draped across her mouth as her legs kicked out in fruitless struggling. They pinned her onto the couch and held her arms down while she kicked out at them with her feet, but then one of the men straddled her middle and held her down for good, her skirt crumbled around her knees, smooth white legs flattened out on the couch. The men waited for what they were sure would be another violently quick rape, but instead they just stood there, the two blacks, and teased her as they pushed her down onto the cushions of the couch. The one who sat on her hips reached up and grabbed her cheeks in between his fingers, saying "Now you want to be a nice girl, don't you Mrs. Jones, or whatever your name is you white bitch." He pinched her breasts through the yellow chiffon and laughed when she tried to scream, but of course all that could be heard through the firm handclasp over her mouth was garbled syllables. She kept trying to bring her knees up and somehow dislodge the brute, but he weighed too much for her and she had to eventually sink back into the oblivion of defeat, barely moving unless the man reached out for her flesh and started to pinch her again. He kept calling her obscene names, like "nice little pussy" and when he reached underneath her skirt for her legs he exclaimed over every little part of her flesh that he was mauling so indiscriminately.
She whimpered and sobbed through her gags and pleaded with her eyes for mercy. She looked as if she thought they were going to kill her; why else would they torture her so unnecessarily when they could just rip off her clothes and have their fun with her? Why did they have to tease her for so long? With each button of her dress that they undid they burned holes in her flesh with burning cigarettes and pinched her breasts until they were red and swollen from the pain. Button by button they moved down to where the man was straddled above her, disfiguring her flesh with the burns and the bruises that they inflicted with cruel hands. Her head was bucking around now wildly on the couch, almost causing the man who had his hands over her face to lose his grip. He signaled to the other man and quickly removed his hands as the other man leaned forward from his fleshy perch and clamped down on his lips. The man who had been near her head went into the other room and emerged carrying a small strip of cloth that he had no doubt ripped from one of her undergarments. He quickly brought it over and wrapped it tightly around her head so she couldn't speak or move her tongue to dislodge it. Now they took their own sweet time, moving slowly above her to torture her to the point of utter and diabolical pain.
First they stripped off her dress and let her lay there completely exposed while they ranged over her body, tormenting every inch of her sweet white flesh. She lay covered by their hands and wearing only white cotton panties and bra. They ripped the bra off without even bothering to undo the straps, and then the man crouched over her crotch began to slowly peel down her panties, watching the expression on her face get wilder and wilder with every hair of her cunt that he exposed. He continued to peel them down with the utmost slowness, waiting for the fear in her head to explode and send her into insane frenzies. Finally, sobs broke over her body; she closed her eyes and went limp. The man struggled with the panties until he had them off her ankles and thrown them on the floor.
The men in the room watched the slow close-up of the camera as it zoomed down right to her slit. Her delicate pubic hairs seemed perfectly shaped around the thrusting contours of her cunt, a heavy bush on top that narrowed between her legs to just two thin strips of hair. Her cunt was closed and seemed a little hole lost in the folds of her skin. Only the perspiration coursing off her body wetted the outer lips. Her cunt was exposed to the men, nestled between her opening legs, completely vulnerable to their eager cocks.
The man straddling her undid his zipper and drew out his rapidly stiffening black cock, playing with it in his hands and waving it in front of the girl's face so she could see the bulges of the veins that ran up and down its length. She shuddered and closed her eyes again, trying to squeeze her legs together. But the man pulled her body over closer to the edge of the couch and straddled her with his cock thrust right in between her legs, the head dangling within easy reach of her cunt. The man took his organ in his hands again and ran the head up and down the fur covering her slit, pushing it in slightly with every pass. He could feel the hairs covering her slit tickled his head and engorge it even further. As he pressed down on her legs with all his weight, he stuck the head just inside the hair on the outer lips and pushed forward, making sounds escape from under the cloth on her face. Then he pushed a little more until it was definitely lodged inside her unwilling body. He looked down at his helpless victim and toyed with her breasts, now scarred and reddened from their tortures. He lunged into her with one great push and then let his cock sit inside her protesting cunt, swelling up to its greatest length. He pushed in and she shuddered again. Her body whelped under him, every nerve electric from the damaged tissue. Pain so intense that no other sensation could enter her head. Every thrust of his cock seemed like the slow drubbing of another bludgeon as it bashed into an already violated wilderness of pain. She could barely see light out of her eyes.
The men who called themselves men were now in a complete uproar; the scenes depicted before them on the machine were too much to handle, they cursed at the screen and looked among themselves for someone with the solution to this mess. But most of them quieted down after the black on the screen lifted her ass up to him and rammed right into the back of her body. The college trustees for the most part had led very sexless lives, and this explosion of the most violent form of sexuality on the video screen had rubbed their nerves raw. Their hatreds fled from one cause to another; first one man would curse the devils perpetrating this crime, and then another would cry in agony when he recognized one of the women on the screen to be his own. And then there were the men who sat in silence throughout the showing of the tape, totally engrossed in their own world and their own activities. Their faces would turn red, one of the other men would turn to question them on some aspect of the case. A few of these men had brought overcoats, and they had them casually placed over their legs on the chairs, hiding their pelvic regions from view. When one man got up, his neighbor noticed dark stains smattering the front of the man's grey denim slacks. So this is what the pillars of the community were doing!
A few of them left. The rest watched the flickering shadows emanating from the cathode ray tube. Two shapes were locked in the passionate embrace, only one of them was taking and the other was not giving. The woman's body was still, passive. The black raper stabbed and thrust into her with increasing hatred, completely disregarding the fact that the thing he was plunging into was a human being. He seemed to be slashing her to ribbons with an erect sword. Her face a twisted mass of painful contortions.
Suddenly the camera shifted again! This was getting interesting a few of the men thought; it seemed that the people who had put the film together had some purpose in mind in the ordering of the various sequences. First the president's wife-that seemed logical. Then old man Griswell's daughter-he had all the power in this particular project, he held the cards and he could call the shot one way or the other. Then the other man's daughter, married and living in suburbia; she gets so violently fucked that many of them are turned off, convinced that they were watching a long series of violent crimes rather than erotic adventures. And now this scene: a woman in a mountain cabin, hanging her wash out on lines to dry.
She was wearing a red-checkered blouse and her hair was red and waving in the sun, long strands of it curling out from under a headband. No one needed to ask who this was! It was Coleen Newell, the sexy secretary of the English Department, the hippy darling of the faculty. She lived some forty or fifty miles outside of town in a cabin she had built on some property she owned. She lived out there all by herself, only bringing her dates out to have a convenient place where they could be alone. There were even rumors that she had slept with several of the students, but if she had none of the men in this room had certainly never known about it. They all secretly despised her for her frank sexual attitudes and especially her outspoken position on Women's Lib. They all secretly wanted to get into her pants too, not only because she was the sexiest female teacher on campus but also because she was reputed to be quite a lay. One of the younger men present had a special reason to smile where her image flickered onto the screen. Just last month he had ended an affair with the woman, an affair that had lasted only a couple of months, it is true, but an affair which for him at least had left a deep impression of the woman. She had jilted him for another, and his sadness was only matched by his desire for revenge. Now it seemed, from looking at the tube, that someone was going to beat him to it.
Sure enough from out of the right hand side of the screen three big men, all of them in their late teens, approached the woman and started to talk with her. The film was jumpy in the extreme, often cutting from one scene to another without any tie-in, as if they had spliced the film to remove their faces-their backs were always turned when they were in the picture. But you could still tell what was going on, there was no mistaking that!
The men had her surrounded and started to advance on her, she screamed and ran for the house, her blue jeans bulging with her straining muscles. They caught up with her fast and brought her down, ripping off one sleeve of her red-checkered blouse, but she quickly bounced up and took off in the other direction, her feet pounding on the unmown turf. They stood there by the doorway of her cabin and watched her run on down the hill towards the stream. After a while, they gradually started to run after her, shouting enthusiastically among themselves that they really had a live one! They could see her running body down near the stream bed. Suddenly she tripped and fell over a boulder, sitting up quickly and holding the side of her head. The men picked up their pace and caught up with her, screaming with glee as one of them wrenched her hair with his fist and forced her to stand up where they could get a good look at her. She straightened up slowly, her mouth making little mewing noises and her eyes opened wide with terror. The men looked at her heaving chest. Her breasts rose with every intake of her breath, and they watched the full curves descent until they jutted outward in their position against her chest. Her breath was heaving and she already seemed to be almost unconscious, the way her head hung limply even though one of the blacks had her hair wrenched so tightly off the ground. Her hips were full and literally bursting the seams of her faded jeans. Her body was still flush with youth, with ample sized breasts and hips and that certain fullness that only marks the young woman. She had a beautiful tan covering her face and chest, and her exposed arm gave evidence that the tan ran down the length of her body. She must have sunbathed out here in the woods.
They stepped up to her and grabbed the collar of her blouse, tearing it away as if it were so much tissue paper. Her body was completely naked down to the tops of her jeans. Everyone in the room audibly gasped when her breasts were exposed. They were both tanned and shaped so fully that they seemed to be bursting with milk. She looked like a Venus, a goddess of the earth brought short by the rapists that held her. They dangled their prize in front of themselves, gaining more hunger with each glance of their eyes on her soft flesh. The risings and heavings of her breasts made them lust after her love; they lowered their pants to the ground, the two of them that watched while their partner held her prisoner. The frail woman trembled and shuddered in front of them, her eyes dimly focusing on the black pricks that were in front of her. One stepped over and unbuttoned her jeans, delicately lacing his fingers into the cut in her jeans while his face bent forward to kiss her. He slowly undid the buttons, feeling the fabric loosen in his hands as neared the bottom. When they were hanging free, he pulled them down and her bare tanned skin showed through. The hollow of her stomach was deep and the cheeks of her ass had dimples right near the tail-bone. All of her was tanned, even the most secret recess in between her legs. The hair of her cunt was darker than the hair that hung so loosely over her shoulders, but that could have been because it had been pressed down onto the bone of her hip by the tight-fitting jeans. Her body began to wave and her knees buckled like she was going to pass out, but suddenly she opened her eyes and straightened up her back, staring wildly out at the trio of men that held her captive.
She knew that even her loudest scream would not be heard, but she could not stop herself from opening up her mouth and screaming until she could feel he strain of her voice-box in her throat. Then a hand reached out for her and her eyes went to black and she fell quickly to the ground. The men gathered around her still form on the grass, looking down at their prize. They reached down and held her while one of them took the cuffs of her jeans in his hands and pulled them slowly down the length of her legs. Then one of the men reached down into his back pocket and brought out four stakes and some pieces of rope.
It had seemed that the camera had changed position sometime before the man had hit her, because now all the shots were being taken from right next to her. They tied her wrists and ankles to one end of the ropes and then tied the other end to the stakes which they drove into the ground with the heels of their feet. They moved slowly, as if all had been planned in advance. They each had a function, each moving to their places without any conflict. One of them straddled her face the thrust his cock in between her closed, sleeping lips. The other twisted her hips around so that they lay on their side; then he tightened one of the ropes to make sure that she would always be laying on her side, then the two men lay on either side of her, awaiting the moment when she would regain consciousness and feel their cocks stuffed into the very heart of her.
With slow movements each began to move his hips in and out while they played with their cocks near the orifices they had chosen. She was still completely out and did not know that this was going to happen to her. The men all achieved erections in a few minutes strained to get them into her. The man in front of her body had no trouble, easily slipping the head of his staff into her opening and working it in until only a few inches of his meat were left outside. The man who obscenely straddled over her face of course easily inserted his cock into her unexpectant mouth, but he would not be able to get the lips to work for him until she regained her wakefulness. The man who clutched her to him with the most force, cupping his hands over her breasts, vainly probed into her anus but could not penetrate the tightness of the opening. Even after applying his own spit to his demanding erection he could not get the head to get in, when suddenly the sphincter muscle relaxed unexplicatedly and his rod slipped right through the soft lips of this other mouth of hers.
Now that two cocks had penetrated her body, her mind was not content to wallow in the darkness of unconsciousness. Fantasies buried deeply within her psyche were suddenly unleashed when her body registered the penetrations of the huge organs, her mind was even now working feverishly, stimulated by the unmoving presence of the sex organs that impaled her. Her body moved first. The men noticed the slightest shuddering motion run through her entire body, and then her hips began to slowly arc back and forth, as if she were masturbating herself in her sleep. The juices in her cunt started to flow almost immediately and the man in front lunged into her, only to feel the timid response of her buttocks drive his cock right in to the hilt. He gripped her legs with his hands and strained to wrap her body more fully around his. His cock was nestled in the warmth of wet cunt, and he lost no time in taking advantage of his position.
Her hips moved backwards onto the other man's organ also, forcing it deeper and deeper into the inner folds of her flesh. He could feel the hood of his rod sliding past ridges of her hole. The muscles of her hips seemed to be contracting, her cunt and her anus squeezing on the organs with alternating pressure. Already she was awakening. Her lips moved slightly and then a deep moan escaped from her lips. She sucked in a great deal of air and partially swallowed the man's cock that was waiting for her return to wakefulness. Her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth and she felt the stiffness of the organ press against the back of her throat. She moved her tongue languidly, sucking on the tool like it was a lollipop. The man gripped her head in his hands and wasn't surprised when she tightened her lips around him and began to stroke up and down on his cock. Her eyes fluttered open and she jerked awake.
She froze her body still with the first hint of consciousness. Even though her mind had been cautioning her to expect this she really wasn't at all prepared for what she saw and felt. Her legs and arms were being stretched out by something and she could not move or even hope to get away. They already had her and there was nothing she could do about it. She lay there on the ground and relaxed herself, breathing deeply until she could restore some measure of calm to her being. She let the movements from their separate bodies determine how she should make her own movements, up to now they had not caused her any degree of pain except when they knocked her out. If she was smart she would completely play along with them, letting them have their way over her body. She could not resist the sweet feelings that were radiating from all points of her body because of the presence of so much cock around and in her. She knew that if she just rode the crest of the pleasure that these men were causing inside of her body, then she would come out of this all-right.
Their thrustings became more insistent, and the huge organ that was in her mouth began to get so hard that she couldn't put her mouth and throat over it at the correct angle. He kept slipping out and cursing under his breath, squirming her head around so she could get a better position from which to fellate him. By holding her head at almost a ninety degree angle from the rest of her body, he could plunge his member right into the back of her working mouth. He thrust in faster and faster, feeling her lips and tongue work over him expertly. She didn't have any trouble concentrating on all three of the cocks at once; each function seemed tied in to the other in some weird way so that all she had to do was move as one being, one woman using her body in the acts Of love, to give them all what they needed. She felt consumed in her own fires, her own deeply seated calls for lust and perversion.
The men watching from another time and another dimension responded to her urgency. They could see the beautiful movements of her flesh as she responded so naturally to the thrusting organs of the various men sprawled about her. They watched as she opened her legs a little wider to allow the man who was burying himself in her cunt even more of her womb. As the man behind her thrust his huge erection up into her anal tissue, her body would buckle slightly in the middle from the force of his driving. She would bend her head to compensate for the thrust and at the same time pull her hips back and upward to impale his organ buried in her ass even deeper. Then with a downward lunge she hungrily clasped the glistening prick that rammed into her womanhood, sliding her tongue across the organ that beckoned to her kiss. She was so skillful that each of the three men seemed to be at the same stage of excitement, each of them was greedily clasping to her flesh with his hands and each of them lunged into her at the same tempo, always increasing the rhythm and the strength of their probings. The sounds of four orgasms welling up in the throats of ecstatic lovers poured out of the speaker of the video, gripping each viewer with the same unbridled sensation rising in their groin. Soon, they could tell, she and they would climax and we fools on this side of the action will be left standing here, with nothing to do but play with ourselves in the darkness that we might find.
Streams burst into the room and shouted: "They've attacked the girl's dorm. They got to my wife. They got to some of yours. What the goddamned hell are you going to do about it? Do you think you can stand here while these women get the daylights fucked out of them? Where's your manhood? Don't you have guts enough to defend your women? Because if you can't bring yourselves to do that, my friends, no one else is going to do it for you. They're out there right now, and you idiots are sitting here watching movies of things none of us have ever wanted to see happen to the women we love. We've got to stop them, we've got to. Goddammit, get up off your lazy asses and follow me to the dorm. Let's kill those niggers!"
They left the video on in the room, and another scene quickly flashed onto the tube. A teenage girl watching television alone in the living room. The camera panned over to the front door, which was left open to cool off the room. A dark hand reached for the latch, and a scream filled the speaker of the video until the sound overloaded itself and all was lost in distortion.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jeff rolled his head lazily, barely aware of how bright it was outside. The sun was high in the sky and it looked to be pretty close to noon. There was no way that he could have felt the heat from its rays since his body was bruised and scratched in so many places he felt as if he were lying underneath a blanket of dull pain. Gradually his fantasies began to lose their strength, his dreams were becoming more identifiable with reality, even assuming the same characters and situations that had actually happened to him, even as recent as yesterday. And especially last night, he thought almost out loud to himself, and then opened his eyes for the first time. The glare made him wince and he struggled up off the pillow. He still couldn't believe that it all happened! He must have been crazy, he thought, why else would I have done something like that unless I was stark raving mad!
He sat up and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, and then fell right back down again onto the mattress. He really didn't want to move. His head felt like a sledgehammer had hit it and those scars he carried all over his body burned like fire! How he ever got himself out of there he would never know. With all hell breaking loose all over everywhere it had been hard to tell just what to do. He didn't remember whether or not he had left earlier than the others or whether left after everyone else was gone. And there were a few he wondered about whether or not they ever even made it out at all. For all he knew they had Harley or Marti right down at the station now and they were burning him with questions. They might just be waiting for him to open his front door before they gunned him down!
But no, wait a minute, he thought, slow down. He scratched his head and thought it out. He remembered certain details, and if he could paste those together right he would have a good idea of what to do next. Better cautious than dead any day, he knew. He got up and walked over to the closed shade on the window and carefully lifted one flap away from the window, squinting through the crack between the shade and the wall, checking to see what kind of cars were parked out front. Not a sign. Still, I'd better call.
"Frank. It's me Jeff. Did everyone get in ok last nite?"
"Yes."
He put down the receiver and relaxed. But only slightly. There was just a chance, admittedly an outside one, that someone they had run across in that raid on the dorm last night would remember what one or more of them looked like. Jeff was one of the few students that was actually in on the rape deal, most of the other guys were from outside. He would be one of the most likely to be recognized, but it would be difficult for them to find where he lived. He used a false name when renting the place and all the mail was stuff sent by him to himself using empty envelopes but with his "new" name heavily inscribed across the front. No records anywhere of where he really lived. Even his driver's license was under his alias, but with another phony address. They would have no way to trace where he lived. So the safest place to be, at least for right now, was right where he was standing. Only one thing kept him wary-that if by any chance they did find out his address, maybe from accidentally busting one of our guys who gets nervous and spills it all, he would be a sitting duck. But once out on the streets, he would be taking an even greater risk. His chances of getting busted out there were extremely high. He was thinking about a way to change his fingerprints when this whole thing with Frank Simmons had started. He had to make sure that he got the needed operation soon, that was his only insurance.
He crawled back to bed. Everything could wait. What he needed most of all was to get his strength back. Christ! He could remember being dead tired right after fucking Vivian Streams and then they had just marched over to the girl's dorm and raped about twenty girls before some middle aged men had broken past their guards and started hassling them. He couldn't believe that he had actually done it. Even his wildest fantasies were nothing compared to the experience he had last night. But as he groaned over the softness of the bed pressing into his wounds, he thought that he had paid the price three times over. Not only the chicks ganging up on him with their stiletto high heels in their hands and their fingernails, but when those assholes ran into everyone they had to slug it out with them and the chicks at the same time. Those poor slobs, they should have stuck to the tape, they would have had better luck!
Jeff rolled sleepily around in the sheets of the bed, grateful for the chance to rest his body and get some sleep. He felt for his cock and found it with its usual early morning hardness, but it was by now the middle of the afternoon and so its feelings were much more insistent. He thought over all the chicks he had been able to fuck last night. Before things broke up in there he knew he had fucked four different girls, all of them upper class juniors and seniors. They were good lookers too. Jeff smiled and thought that the whole thing had been worth it. How many other men in the world could go where he went and do what he did and get away with it? He was sure that even the very rich could not afford the pleasures that Jeff found in raping those girls last night.
They had driven around to the parking lot in the back of the dorm, meeting the two other carloads of guys that had already been assembled here. That made fourteen of us in all. Frank had pulled this one as a surprise on all of us, not even telling anyone about it until five minutes before we went ahead and did it. That testified to the brilliancy of Frank, his awesome ability to control a crowd, influence then into doing what he needed them to do. He had called everyone else that he didn't already have over at the Streams' mansion with him or working on the tape later and delivering it and he told them to wait for his phone call. He mentioned that there would be some action; that was usually all the man had to say before he would have a lot of dudes waiting eagerly for the phone to ring again. After Jeff had driven him over to Marti's to process the tape, he made phone calls to about three different people and then told us of his plan.
God, how paranoid he had been! Even before he had known some pretty bizarre moments, but he had never been so nervous as he was last night when Frank started talking about two hundred women. That was sheer insanity! Nobody in his right mind would do it. But in just five minutes he had them all convinced. The film was sent on its way in a separate car and Frank and Jeff drove over to the campus, carefully avoiding the other end of the fourteen acre college site where the trustees and the college president would be looking at the tape. He figured that the tape would keep them completely occupied for about an hour and a half. He had arranged the scenes in such a way that he could just about predict the chain of events that would take place once the machine was threaded properly. He counted on Streams himself as getting the biggest shock when he saw, for the first time, that his wife had been raped. Streams was sure to keep the police occupied around his own mansion, which wasn't anywhere near the campus, looking for clues to the identities of the attackers. He planned it all out, step by step. Frank said that it was the climax to all our efforts, that it would be the last thing we would ever do as a group. From this night on we shouldn't even say hello to each other.
We all gathered near the back door of the dorm, waiting for Harley with his sheet of plastic to open the lock. There was a light above the door, but Frank said that just two days ago someone with a BB gun had shot the bulb out. Harley slipped open the door and we were inside! The first thing Jeff noticed was that even the air smelled different. There was a fresh scent in the air, like a girl's perfume or the smell of their nylons have after they've been washed. They were looking straight down a hallway of ten doors, five on either side. At the end of the hallway was another door, one that could be locked from his side. Frank casually strolled down the hall and locked the door and then signaled to lock the door that they had come in by. There was now no way that anyone could get in without forcing the lock. The men walked into the hall, trying to figure out which of the ten doors held the best looking chicks. They had to rush them all at once or else they could be alerted soon enough to gang up on one guy, which would no doubt, thought Jeff, be fatal. Jeff could remember reading the name tags to see if he could tell how they looked from the way they wrote their names. He stopped in front of a door marked Pam and Gail and readied his hand for the doorknob.
They all looked up at Frank like he was chocked up or something the way he stammered when he talked to them. Finally, he said. "Best of luck, fellows, wherever you end up," and opened one of the doors.
Jeff had just started to remember how he and Harley had taken the two girls in the room and then switched when he heard a knocking on his door. What had Frank meant by that "wherever you end up" crack anyway? How could he get out if it was the heat? There wasn't any other way. He opened the door. It was Sadatha!
"I brought you the paper, you bastard. Why don't you read what you and your friends did last nite, huh," and then stepping in the door "here's the paper, read it."
"I don't want to read it." He moved away from the door, his heart pounding in his chest. He never wanted her to know. How could he possibly explain?
"Jeff, how could you? And with me all at the same time too. You bastard, you son of a bitch, you COWARD." She screamed at him and then ran into him, fists flailing at his naked chest. He fell onto the bed with her on top, now trying to knee him right in the crotch. He bent up quickly and grabbed her wrists and stretched her over his body, holding her up in the air, but she kept on fighting him. He let her drop and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her tightly against him. Now she couldn't hit him, her arms were pinned to his chest, but she kept on struggling, trying to hurt him.
Jeff tried to struggle away from her grasp, pulling her hands off of him and knocking out her knees under her so she went sprawling onto the floor. She kept up blistering verbal attack, calling him the arch-coward of all cowards, the biggest pig on the streets. Any man in her book that had to take a woman by force to get some kind of sadistic enjoyment was slime. And here was the man that she loved, implicated in a plot that involved a couple of dozen rapes of young girls, white girls at that. Sadatha felt that her whole world was crashing on down around her, leaving the sweet dreams that she had held so close to her heart only yesterday to fall on the ground into dust. If she was the type of woman to get despondent over things like this, she thought to herself, she would surely have tried suicide rather confront the man she loved and tell him that now she was the man that she hated above all other men.
Jeff could see the tears beginning to stream out of her already puffy eyes, tears that proved to him that somewhere deep inside her there was still love for him, but a love that had been cruelly dampened by his own actions of the past few months. He could feel the bitterness that drove her hatred towards him, made her arms lash out at him with so much frustration that she couldn't contain herself. Jeff pinned her arms to the floor, watching her pathetic smugglings like a man condemned. If only he could retrace his steps, if only he hadn't let himself get talked into such an extravagant scheme just for the cause of black liberation. Black liberation, ha! Just how had he helped the black man-by raping so many young girls that the entire white community would carry the scars for years in the future? Was this helping things, engendering more hatred than had already been in people's minds before? And what about himself-did he really believe that by doing what he did he would actually feel good inside, feel some kind of pride that he had been able to strike out at the white bastards where it hurt? As he looked down into the face of the woman he loved and saw how crushed she looked, he realized that he had paid the heaviest price possible for his folly, he had lost something of such value that it might take him years to find something else that could even be half as good. Sadatha had been his dream, his best hope for getting something out of life, and now that dream lay shattered at his feet, blown into a million pieces by a single newspaper headline.
He kissed the girl gently on the cheek and tried to wipe the tears from her face with his hand. She protested slightly, jerking her head away from his touch, a new flood of tears welling out of her eyes.
"How could you, Jeff, how could you do this to me?"
"It was Frank, I listened to him too much for my own good. Believe me, Sadatha, I never wanted to hurt anyone, I never did really, it was those other guys like Harley who did the slashing stuff to those broads, I didn't ... " But it was no use; he could see that she wasn't really listening to him, no excuses would help. He cradled her head gently in his hands and kissed her again and again, trying to show her his true feelings for her, that his love hadn't gone in spite of how things looked.
He could feel the tenderness of her skin as it brushed past his lips and he realized with added bitterness that here in his arms was the one true woman that he had ever known. When he thought of how all those other white chicks had felt when he was pumping into them Sadatha's own velvety softness seemed like something that was miles above any other piece he had had. His lips found hers and he tried to press into her with all the passion that his heart felt for her, forcing her head back onto the floor. But her coldness hadn't left her, she wrenched her lips away from his and rolled away from him, lifting herself up on one elbow while Jeff watched her, spellbound.
"I love you, Sadatha, those chicks didn't mean anything to me. Honest. My God, you've got to believe me." He implored her to listen to him, to stop the tears and listen to his true heart.
"I don't care, you animal. I don't care whether you enjoyed them or not," her sarcasm cut into Jeff, "you raped them, Jeff. Don't you understand, you raped them. How can you sit there and tell me that you love any woman when you couldn't possibly have the least bit of tenderness in your body. What have I done to you that you have to go out and take a woman by force? How much you must hate me, how much you must hate all women to do something like that. You can't possibly love anyone."
Jeff felt the slightest twinge of anger when she said that. She couldn't have meant what she said. Surely she didn't believe that he was incapable of loving someone, she must know, she must realize by now how much he loved her, how much he wanted things to be right between them. Their future together was all that counted, didn't she realize that? He looked over at her as she dried off her face with her sleeve, the mascara smearing in ugly lines down over the bridge of her nose. She looked up at him also, and their eyes locked together as each of them tried to understand the other, tried to make some sense out of this nightmare. Sadatha looked tired, exhausted from the drain of her emotions. Jeff reached out for her with his arm and draped it over her shoulders, trying to console her like a big brother.
She leaned her face back against the hard strength of his shoulder and closed her eyes. She knew that her love for this man was still burning up inside of her, that no matter what happened, even if he went to prison, she would be waiting for the day when their love could blossom again. She let the warmth of his chest affect her, turning her inward hurts into something a little less painful. She suddenly realized that she too had done something that threatened to deepen her separation from this man, that she had loved something else more than their love. Mary had come over to her house frequently in the past few weeks while Jeff was gone; their relationship had grown until Sadatha felt something close to love for the red-haired Irish beauty. The feel of her white skin stayed in Sadatha's mind long after their encounters, warming her dreams with the remembrance of the girl's delicate movements. Sadatha leaned back into his chest and looked up at Jeff's face, aware that his eyes were misting and that his face was torn with the shadows of guilt. She couldn't do this to him, she couldn't instill guilt in him without feeling that she too should have an equal share of it. But, even as she reached up for him with her lips, she decided that she would never tell him about her affair with the woman. Things had been bad enough for them both without her throwing the confusion telling him would surely bring into the discussion.
She reached up and kissed his lips softly, feeling the tears that covered both their faces. Jeff lowered his head until his lips touched her delicate features and smiled through his kiss, giggling slightly and moving her hair from in front of her face. She smiled up at him and gently placed her hand on the side of his face, reaching up for another lingering kiss. She turned to brush her taut nipples against his chest and felt the fire of too long a separation urging her on, making her respond from the depths of her soul. This was what she really wanted, this was what she really needed. Everything else that she had made love with seemed to be just a shadow in her mind, a way-station on her path to true affection. As she wrapped her arms around him she could feel the intensity of her passion reach out for him, her body already awakened and responding, urging her to reach out for his cock.
Jeff gathered his arms about her slim form and lifted her off the floor. She let her body relax and her legs fall languidly over his forearm, her arm around his back and stroking little circles into the tenseness of his muscles. Her hips rubbed against his stomach as he walked to the bedroom and she could feel the tremendous strength of his legs as they carried their combined weights. This was a man, a real man! Her body tensed with anticipation. She needed that cock of his to make her right, to make everything right for the both of them. She realized with joy in her heart that she had somehow known that this day would come for them, that through some complicated process her mind had allowed her love with another woman but had saved her from attaching her emotions to another man.
Jeff placed her body softly down on the bed and peeled down the rest of the covers. Sadatha lay there with heat in her eyes, her fingers reaching up for him. Jeff dipped down into her arms and smothered her body with his huge frame, feeling her softness spread out underneath him as he pressed her down into the mattress. Her shift began to ride up above her knees as they squirmed in the heat of their kiss. He reached down and stroked her smooth legs with his hand, reaching up to the hem of her shift and lifting it above her waist. Her white panties felt hot to his touch as he pulled the elastic down, stretching the fabric to push it down past her knees. Sadatha reached down with her hand and flicked them off her ankle, smiling up at Jeff as he feasted his eyes on her perfectly shape black bush. He got up for a moment as she pulled the shift over her head and threw it to the floor, her body totally exposed now, trembling with excitement as he came down on her.
She grappled with his chest until she had her arms firmly placed around his back, pulling down with all her strength. His body was so big, so strong, and she needed every muscle of his manhood to ground into her aching body, to pound and pound until she could forget everything but his love. Her legs moved out to his sides and he gently placed his hips into her soft bowl of flesh, his cock already prodding tantalizingly up against the moistened hairs of her pussy. Her body felt so weak beneath him, so limp that he felt that he should be careful about how strongly he pushed things. Her lips burned into the hairs of his chest, arousing his nipples and making his whole body bend into her. She moaned slightly and pressed down harder with her arms, moving her hands down to the cheeks of his ass to press him into her with greater urgency than before.
He took his hands and gently spread open her legs, placing her knees up against his chest. She moaned deeply and pushed against him, arching her neck straight and grasping the hairs on the back of his head with grasping fingers. Jeff felt for his cock and gently rubbed the glands into her wetness, feeling the lips of her furrow part softly to accommodate his stiff erection. She pressed down harder on his hips but he knew that it had to be slow. Carefully he pushed just a few inches, just enough to firmly emplace his rod into her burning sheath. Her hips quivered and she frantically clawed at him, pushing her pussy up to force him the rest of the way in. Jeff could feel the lubrication from her cunt already thick and creaming around the movements of his cock. He pushed all the way in, forcing her knees to bend upwards a little bit more as he found the last inch of room in her cunt, his hips firmly pressed against her quivering body, his rod like lightning jolts making her spasm.
He could feel every muscle of her body glue themselves to his, every part of her reaching up for him. His cock felt heavy and full, nothing like the brutal stiffness of the raping prick he had been using. He slowly drew out of her and felt her cunt muscles contract, trying to pull back the huge organ that had filled her, trying to make it stay in there where it belonged. When he pushed into her the muscles tightened, making him feel every inch of her cunt strain to hold him in. Her legs parted even more at her hips to allow his body more fucking room, the juices from her cunt running down the insides of her legs. He pumped slowly in and out of her quim, building up the strength of his erection with each plunge.
Sadatha pushed her hands down to wrap them around his thrusting legs, pulling up to get him to go in deeper. His meat felt thick and almost bursting the insides of her, her body straining and adjusting to its gigantic size. Little whimpers escaped from her throat when his body came crashing down onto her. She lurched up at him, loving the slick feel of his cock as it slid deliciously into her juicy muff. Her fingernails tensed and bit into the hungry flesh of her black lover, scraping the skin and exposing tiny droplets of blood. He thundered into her body, feeling her insides split apart as he drove his huge rod into her flesh, shoving it so brutally into her that he was sure that parts of her were in agony no matter how loudly her groans proclaimed her ecstasy.
Jeff's voice was husking in his throat as he lifted himself up by the hands and looked at his organ plunging into the soft lips of her cunt. Each thrust shot his nerves with heat and his muscles drove on all the harder from the stimulation. He could feel the sperm collecting in his ducts, even after such a night of rampant sex as he had just had, and he knew that Sadatha could bring things out of him that no other woman could. His cock felt so hard that he was sure that it was made out of steel. He thrust again and again into her pussy until he could hardly breathe he was working so fast; he could feel the faintest sensations of unconsciousness just flicker across his vision and he knew that he was almost ready.
Sadatha clenched her hips together and with a sudden spasm of sound lifted her legs higher up with her hands and forced them apart so he could go deeper still. His huge swollen knob seemed to be pressing against the very folds of her womb, touching her in places that had never been reached before by any man. Her head started to blank out on her and her breath couldn't keep up with the demands of her straining body; the muscles all over her body clenching and vibrating out of control as the heat from thickly filled hole began to radiate over her. She shouted out his name and screamed for his fucking.
Suddenly Jeff's cock exploded, burning ropes of semen shooting out of his throbbing cock, filling her with the thick warm liquid. Sadatha groaned and thrashed under him, kicking out wildly with her feel and scraping even deeper into his skin with her nails. She humped upward and impaled herself for one long last plunging of his organ and then contorted her face with the ecstasy of long unfulfilled orgasms. Sadatha felt the world spinning around her until she almost passed out. Jeff lay quietly on her still trembling body, letting her stretch out her legs and enclose him with her open hips, come dripping out of her cunt onto the mattress.
She opened her eyes and smiled longingly at her lover, proud that she had at last found the inspiration she needed to continue. Here was a man indeed! She knew that as long as they were together, nothing would be too great that they couldn't conquer it easily with their love. She didn't know whether or not Jeff had been seen by any of his victims, but she did know that he would never again feel compelled to rape for politics. He was hers now, and nothing would take her away from him.
