Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Videll Dais/New Story

   NURSING GRUDGES (F/MM, inter-racial, threesome, revenge, nc)

   By Videll Dais

   Norma Que, at twenty-five, was one sharp lady; tall, shapely, her skin
the color of rich coffee with a dash of cream.  Her cheekbones were
interesting, her nose uncharacteristically small and her lips attractively
full.  She wore her hair in fashionable cornrows decorated with glass beads
that caught the bright sunlight, sparkled all the colors of the rainbow. 
She drove her red Mercury convertible proudly and carefully, always mindful
of the speed limits, and with the top down.  Like so many of her kind,
Norma's background had been a troubled one.  She grew up in humble,
disadvantaged circumstances in a rural home dominated by a strict,
possessive father, the constant ranting of almost hysterical Evangelical
preaching and the oppressive will of prejudiced Whites.  She had developed
early; at just ten years old she lost her innocence to a sneaky uncle who
continued to abuse her in every which way he could for the next four years.
Though she always had a nagging feeling something wasn't right, she
uncomplainingly went along with her uncle's demanding abuse of her young
body, even got to like some of it.  Just before her fourteenth birthday, he
was(mercifully for her)killed in a barroom knife fight.  Later, when she
knew better, she began to hate her uncle; not only for what he'd done to
her innocence for all those years, but for depriving her of a revenge so
rightfully hers.  The episode with her uncle hadn't entirely been a
negative one: she had quickly learned from him the value of her assets, and
had never forgotten how to use the power those assets held over both men
and women.  Out of sheer necessity and the overwhelming need to survive
both as a person and, perhaps more importantly, as a black woman, she had
ploughed in many a long hour on her studies, her image and her attitude. 
It had paid off, too, handsomely.  She was now a fully qualified private
nurse and a very good one to boot.  Norma now wore expensive perfumes, the
finest silk underwear, and her crisp white uniforms were body-huggingly
tight - too tight some, especially those less well-endowed, were apt to
say. These days, if she detected one of those snooty disapproving looks,
she would face it head-on and unafraid, smile a sweet smile from behind her
designer shades and think: Fuck you!  My, she could be a bitch if she
wanted and why not?  If you got it, kid, you might as well flaunt it. 
Despite the color of her skin, or maybe because of it, she'd done
surprisingly well for herself in this small-minded, bigoted little southern
town and fully intended to do a whole lot better.  Wednesday afternoon was
Norma's turn over at the upwardly mobile Mortimer residence.  The house was
of a mock-Tudor style, stood in spacious grounds and was strategically
placed on Honeysuckle Drive, a piece of real estate where you needed a six
figure income plus change plus a white skin before even daring to
contemplate taking up occupation in the palatial acreage.  Teresa and Brice
Mortimer were upper-class snobs with one child, Tessa Jane, a Golden
Retriever pathetically called 'Toots' and far too much unearned wealth. 
Norma had little to do with Teresa.  Her attendance and professional
services were required only for Brice.  Last fall, a severe stroke had
felled him like a rotten oak, rendering him almost completely paralyzed and
entirely without speech.  Teresa, a fragile, willowy blonde, always
immaculately attired and distantly cool, was of a similar background to
Brice only in as much as she had attended the same college and University,
had achieved the same qualifications, moved in the same privileged,
professional circles.  But her family were never pure-blooded southern
stock, never 'old' money.  Her parents were, and always would be,
blue-collar working class, nothing more and nothing less.  And, no matter
how much she tried to forget it, Teresa would never be able to get away
from that one simple, unflattering fact.  Though she would never let it
show, Norma had actually grown to quite like Teresa over the past few
months.  In many ways they were alike.  But Teresa - though polite and ever
respectful (without being condescending) - was too vulnerable, too
susceptible to things richly trivial, and had still a great many things to
learn about the Negro way and about life, as indeed did Brice.  Today,
Norma was in the mood to do some enlightening, some rude teaching.  Norma
felt good; wonderful in fact.  She had plans and had already felt the first
breeze, just the gentlest of whispers, softly and fleetingly caress the
chocolate skin of her soul; a hint perhaps of the winds of change about to
overtake her life and, more particularly, the lives of the Mortimer's.  A
small shiver of pleasure rippled the length of her spine.  She confidently
drove up the long, tree-lined drive, past thick hedges, flaming myrtle
bushes, and neatly clipped terraced lawns, watered to a perfect green.  She
hardly glanced at the burgeoning flower borders lush with summer blooms of
roses, oleander, azaleas and geraniums.  She swung the car around in front
of the house, boldly parked right next to the gleaming silver Mercedes and
matching BMW Sport like it was her rightful parking place, like her Mercury
belonged there.  Her nursing bag draped casually from squared shoulders,
Norma elegantly stepped up to the big, white front door ringed with purple
wisteria and rang the bell.  While waiting to be admitted, she removed her
sunglasses and smiled at a thought, at a private idea, at nothing as yet
important.

   * * *

   "Norma, hi, good to see you.  Come on in." Teresa Mortimer was dressed
for gym class, the lavender-color tights and pink leotard leaving precious
little to the imagination as they clung like a second skin to her gorgeous
figure.  Norma openly admired the swaying hips and rolling buttocks as she
followed her employer down a long hallway with cream walls, lots of
gold-framed pictures, and a highly-waxed blonde wood floor.  Her white
slip-ons quietly squeaked on the polished wood and her crisp uniform
whispered against her thighs with each long stride.  "I'm afraid I have to
rush off.  I'm late again," Teresa was saying over her shoulder, casually
flicking her lustrous blonde hair off her face, "but you know what to do,
so I'll leave you to it." "How is he today?" Norma asked, smiling at a
young black maid busily dusting some tall Chinese urns.  The maid shyly
returned the smile without pausing in her work.  "Much the same," Teresa
answered, her voice faltering slightly.  "He managed a wink and a smile
this morning, though.  I think he has more movement in his right hand, but
that might be wishful thinking on my part.  He's so brave.  It's really
sad. Brice used to be such a vigorous, active person before...this." Norma
heard the regret, the sadness in Teresa's tone and sympathized.  "Well,
like I said before, there's still hope that he'll be that way again. 
Trouble with these cases, you never can tell which way it will go.  The
thing is not to give up on encouraging him." "Oh, I won't." Teresa stopped,
turned to Norma, her face serious, sincere.  "Whatever it takes.  I'll do
all I can," she said.  "I really do love him so much.  I just want things
to be the way they were.  You know, I really miss the physical ..." Teresa
shut up as though suddenly remembering who it was she was talking to.  She
blushed, shrugged, looked down at her clasped hands.  "Sorry.  I didn't
mean to ..." "Hey, don't mention it.  I understand." Norma smiled.  A quick
image of Teresa and Brice in a passionate clinch flashed unbidden into her
minds eye.  "Keep your fingers crossed, Miz Mortimer.  Who knows?  With
some dedicated skill, patience and love, and maybe just a nod of approval
from the Man upstairs, we'll get him back on his feet again." Teresa
nodded, her expression brightening.  "Well, if anyone can do it, Norma, you
can." "Thanks for the compliment, Miz Mortimer." Norma smiled again, her
eyes momentarily appraising the fullness of Teresa's breasts, the way her
nipples were clearly visible, thrusting against the thin material of her
leotard.  She put a finger thoughtfully to her pursed lips, and said, "If
you don't mind my saying, you've been looking a little peaky lately.  You
might consider allowing me to give you a quick once-over when you get back
from your class.  Y'know, just to be on the safe side.  We don't want you
burning out on us now do we?" "We-ell, that might not be such a bad idea."
Teresa said, fiddling nervously with the gold chain at the base of her
long, creamy neck.  She flicked her hair back again and shifted her gaze to
a far off place outside the picture window.  Her blue eyes were quite
startling.  "I have to admit, things have been getting to me a bit lately.
What with Brice's illness, the dog and Tessa's demands on my time and
energy.  Come early evening, I really don't have a lot left to give."
"Okay," Norma said, "Settled then.  I'll see you later."

   * * *

   Norma Que watched from a first floor window as Teresa Mortimer climbed
into the BMW and, with the sun sparkling from windshield and blue metallic
paint, move off down the tree-lined drive.  There goes a woman in need, she
thought, continuing to watch until the car was out of sight.  She then
turned and made her way to Brice's room.  He lay straight and still,
covered by a light cotton sheet amid an array of summery colors; plenty of
mild lemons, yellows and pale greens.  The large casement windows were
open. Lace curtains deflected a lot of the heat and softened the sunlight
giving the room a spacious, airy feel.  A wood-blade fan turned lazily in
the center of an ornately decorated ceiling.  Most of the furniture was
antique, old oak, walnut and mahogany.  The walls were adorned with erotic
pictures featuring a nude man and woman making love in various tasteful
poses, plain black and white, moodily lit with a lot of shadow and discreet
shade, painted or photographed (she couldn't tell which) by someone called
Dumar whom Norma had never heard of.  By itself, in an alcove beside the
ornamental fireplace, was a large rectangular picture in washed-out sepia
of Mr.  and Mrs.  Mortimer senior.  Norma paused before this picture; it
held a particular interest for her.  Ignoring the dark, sad-looking woman,
she studied the square-shouldered, broad-chested man, the fierce stare of
his eyes, the hooked nose and narrow, almost cruel, set of the mouth
surrounded by a bush of unkept white whiskers.  This was the man her mother
had served a long time ago, the man who had kindly given her the employment
her family had so depended on in those hard times.  The man who had one day
taken her (a shapely, shy, insecure young woman, not long wed, always
subservient, nervously uncomplaining, as was expected in those days) to the
stables out back of the house on the pretext of looking at the horses.  The
man who, once inside the dark, stuffy interior, safe from prying eyes, had
bolted the doors, stripped her naked, then tied her over a rail, and
whipped her bare ass with a riding crop before savagely fucking her.  This
was the man who had forced her to submit to him in the same way - and a lot
of other ways no doubt - every day thereafter as part of her unspoken
conditions of employment.  For all Norma knew, that bastard could be her
real father.  She had often wondered.  Norma sighed, continued to stare
into Mortimer's unforgiving face for a while longer, feeling absolutely
nothing for him, emotionally void.  The burning hate she had grown up with,
the all-consuming rancor, had completely gone, faded away like a
half-glimpsed ghost into a distant past along with that stranger, that
little girl made to watch, that child forced to bear witness to her
mother's humiliation and interminable suffering.  Norma had long ago rid
her system of all that pain and negativity.  She didn't need it anymore. 
Sometimes, she could hear still the crack of the riding crop on her
mother's smooth trembling buttocks, could even feel it stinging her own
flesh in unguarded dreams and see the long, narrow cock, pale like a worm,
stabbing, rutting, plundering.  But those flashback occasions where so rare
she no longer flinched, cringed, or wept in the dark.  Right now her prime
concern was - what goes around, comes around.  "How are you today, Brice?"
Norma didn't look at him.  She knew what he looked like.  Besides, once her
attention was on him, it was on him one hundred percent and Norma liked to
ease into her commitment, to take a few moments for herself.  She casually
placed her bag on a gold-color ottoman at the foot of the bed, slowly paced
around the room like she owned it, inspecting, nosing; the contents of a
drawer here, a closet, photo or solid silver trinket there.  "Just had a
word with your lovely wife," she said, over her shoulder, her tone
conversational, "about her health and, by God, she is healthy, Brice.  All
that woman going to waste.  You think about that, those curves, her shape?
Boy, she is in incredible shape isn't she?  Must be all that working out at
the gym, wouldn't you say?" Norma turned at last to the bed.  "How's it
make you feel, your pretty wife down there alone, working out with all that
hunky, beef-cake, all that testosterone?" She looked down at her patient
through heavy lids, ran the tip of her tongue over slightly parted lips. 
"You think maybe one of 'em gets his paws on that shapely ass of hers,
those lovely breasts?  You think one of them hunks might be getting her in
a locker room, getting those little panties off?  Don't take too long to
get a girl's panties off now does it Brice?  Couple seconds and it's done.
In that place, with all that heat and sweat and swinging dicks, I reckon
it's a certainty.  Take my word for it.  I'm a woman and know about these
things?" Brice opened his eyes.  They were clear and gunmetal-gray, the
left one wandered a bit, not much, but enough to give him an odd, haunted
look.  His honey-color hair had been neatly combed, was getting slightly
too long.  Norma thought it suited him that way.  He was clean-shaven.  The
left corner of his mouth drooped a little and a thin trickle of saliva ran
down his square jaw.  For all that, he was still handsome in a pro-ball
kind of way.  The sheet came midway up his hairy chest.  His shoulders were
broad, still muscular thanks to her regular and rigorous physio's, and the
sunlamp treatment had maintained his tan to summer perfection.  He looked
up at Norma, his eyes searching, expressing a kind of lost wonderment. 
"You gonna talk to me today, Brice?" Norma said, unzipping her uniform all
the way.  She slipped out of the garment, neatly folded it over the high
back of a cane chair.  All she wore underneath was a white bra, minuscule
matching panties and sheer, thigh-gripping silk stockings without
suspenders.  The contrast of the underwear against her dark skin was
striking.  She looked like a million dollars and knew it.  "Come on," she
said, gently taunting, "talk to me.  Ain't I the sexiest woman ever to
grace this room?  You like what you see?  Tell me how you'd like to get me
in that sack there, how you'd like to get in these little panties of mine.
I know you would, Brice.  You can't fool me.  I haven't met a man yet
hasn't wanted to do those very things.  Some have tried you know.  Most
never got anywhere near the starting gate, of course.  A couple, though -
those I took a fancy to - were real lucky; they got it all, Brice, and
more. Want me to tell you about them?  Want me to tell you how they managed
to get these little panties off?  What they did once their hands and lips
were on my pussy?  I bet you do." She giggled girlishly and hooked her
thumbs in the thin strips of elastic high on her hips.  She slowly tugged
the panties down almost to where her pubic hair started, or rather, would
have started.  She liked to keep herself free of hair, liked to be bald and
smooth all over, reckoned it was much more tactile, more sensitive that
way; something she'd learned from her uncle all those years ago.  "Huh-huh.
Not yet, Brice," she said, waggling a finger at him.  She pulled the
panties up tight around the curving bulge of her crotch, splayed her
fingers out over her flat belly, and moved her hips in small, tantalizing
circles.  "Nothing's for free here," she said.  "You've got to put in some
work first, got to earn it.  You talk to me, show me you can move something
today, maybe I'll let you take a peek at the real goodies in there. 
Believe me, it'll be well worth your while." Brice's eyes focused in on
Norma, not leaving her body for a second.  The corners of his mouth
twitched, an expression of pleading lighting his face.  Norma smiled down
at him.  "That's it, fight.  Give me something, I'll give you something in
return - a little quid pro quo so to speak.  Wait right there.  I won't be
a minute." She went to the en suite bathroom, filled a bowl with warm
water, got some soap, massage oil and a hand towel, then returned to the
bedroom.  She looked down at Brice, smiled and slipped the sheet off him.
"Time to freshen you up.  Get you all nice and clean and relaxed." Norma
undid the cord of his pajama trousers.  Maneuvering his heavy body from
side to side, she slipped them off, then removed the bulky incontinence
pad. "My, I've said it before, I'll say it again: you're a big, big boy,
Mr. Mortimer.  It's a real shame to have that fine example of manhood
layin' there all soft and saggin' like that.  I wonder if we can make him
stand up straight and proud today.  That would be good wouldn't it?" Norma
washed Brice - all over - taking her time, generous with the lather and her
caresses, paying particular attention to his soft penis, the heavy sack of
his scrotum and the wrinkled button of his anus.  She loved touching his
body; loved him being so helpless, so totally at the mercy of her will, so
completely in her power.  Once, it had been her who'd been helpless, her
who'd been utterly powerless.  My, how the tables had turned.  When she was
done with the bathing, she spread oil liberally over him.  It was slick,
smelled of honeysuckle which reminded her of her mother for some
inexplicable reason.  She breathed in deep, savoring the sweet scent,
thoroughly massaged Brice's entire body, working the oil into his skin,
enjoying its slickness, its suppleness and smoothness.  She tossed and
turned the inert man, left no part of him unattended, did each finger, each
toe with equal measures of tender loving care.  She worked the muscles that
could not work, the lifeless ligaments and tendons that so stubbornly
refused to respond.  While she massaged she talked and Brice listened.  He
had no choice.  "Your wife told me today," Norma said, taking his
smooth-headed penis in both her slippery hands, gently rolling it, pulling
it, enfolding its softness in her warm palms, "she misses this wonderful
instrument of pleasure.  She's a woman in bad need, Brice.  When she comes
home, you know what I'm gonna to do?  I'm gonna satisfy that need, right
here in this room, with you watching.  What d'you think about that?  Would
you like to watch me and her together?  Light shifted behind Brice's eyes
filling them with a deep longing.  His mouth moved as though he was about
to speak, but nothing came out.  Instead, a half-smile slowly stretched his
trembling lips, played around the drooling corners of his mouth.  Norma
took a Kleenex, wiped the spittle from Brice's chin, and then lay on the
bed beside him.  Resting on an elbow, she cocked her head to one side and
smiled down at her patient.  "Yeah," she whispered, brushing her
silk-covered thigh teasingly against his legs, "you like the idea don't
you? I can tell." She slid her hand slowly over his oiled stomach, then
lower.  Her fingers encircled his soft penis again, skillfully manipulated
the limp flesh, gently, deliberately masturbating him.  "You want me to
tell you what I'm going to do to her, right here, real close, so you can
smell her scent, her heat?  Listen closely big guy: First, I'm gonna strip
her naked as a new born babe, then I'm gonna spread her out beside you so
you can see everything, all those soft, pink bits that you've been missing
so bad these past months.  Then, strictly in a professional capacity of
course, I'll carry out the most professional massage, the most intimate
examination she's ever experienced.  Her firm titties will need a lot of
attention, especially her nipples.  Does she like her nipples played with,
Brice?  Yeah, I bet she does." Norma paused, breathed in through dilated
nostrils savoring the warm smell of his honeysuckle skin.  She was turning
herself on talking about her fantasy, felt her pulse quicken, a familiar
itch at the junction of her thighs, a stirring low in her belly.  She
glanced down, saw her own erect nipples jutting hard as pecan nuts through
the silk of her bra.  "Between her legs will be even more fun, Brice," she
said, running her tongue slowly, meaningfully over her lips, "I'm an expert
remember, so I'll take my time down there, be very thorough - just in case
she has any of those annoying complaints us ladies have to put up with from
time to time.  Then I'll turn her over and do that tight rounded little
ass, right in the crack there between the plump cheeks.  I can't wait for
that, can you?  Imagine watching my hands exploring those lovely curves,
touching all those secret places; getting her all hot and bothered.  And
she will get hot and bothered, believe me.  I have a trick or two that'll
really surprise her.  She trusts me so I know she'll let me do it and I
know she'll like it.  D'you think she'll like it, Brice?" Brice's eyes were
bright and moist, fixed in blatant fascination on the barely concealed
globes of Norma's firm breasts, the way her nipples were standing out so
sharp, so clearly defined through the thin material of her bra.  So near,
yet so far away.  His wet mouth slavered, continuously moved somewhere
between a smile and a grimace.  "Oh, Brice," Norma said, looking down at
the penis in her busy hand, raising her eyebrows in pleasant surprise. 
"Oh, yes.  Oh, That's good, baby.  That is very good." His penis twitched
and pulsed against her palm, began at last to elongate, grow fat on her
tender caresses.  The wilted organ thickened, stretched out like a flower
unfolding to the sun, the smooth plum of a head rising up, swelling as the
purple veins filled with throbbing blood.  Soon, it was firmly and fully
erect.  "My, the power of pussy never ceases to amaze me," Norma said, her
gaze excited, her smile wide.  She squeezed her fingers around the thick
girth of the penis, felt it throb with vitality and need.  "That is by far
one of the finest of specimens I've seen, Brice and, believe me, I've seen
a few." Norma got off the bed, stood smiling down at her prone patient. 
"I'm a woman of my word, Mr.  Mortimer," she said, reaching both hands up
behind her.  "You done something for me, now I'm gonna do something for
you." She freed the catch on her bra, slipped the garment down her arms and
let it fall to the floor.  Her sharp-tipped breasts were full, round, and
absolutely without need of artificial support.  They trembled slightly as
she stooped and slipped out of her panties.  "There now, a body to raise
the dead, huh?" Norma proudly showed off her assets, her dusky, perfect
nakedness, rolled her belly while cupping her breasts in her hands,
tweaking the sharp nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.  "You like
these titties, Brice?  Ain't they the firmest, prettiest titties you've
ever seen?  And what about my bald little pussy?" Norma, smiling at Brice's
wide-eyed stare, put her right foot up on the bed and spread her thighs. 
She placed a hand caressingly over the smooth prominence of her mons,
trailed her fingers along the pouting slit of her sex.  "I told you I'd let
you take a peek didn't I?" Brice's mouth curled almost into a leer showing
his square, white teeth.  His engorged penis twitched on his belly, was so
long it reached almost to his navel.  Beside his hip, his right hand
trembled.  His eyes were glued to Norma's curves, the gentle swell of her
belly and the firm columns of her strong thighs.  He blinked and moved his
tongue frantically over slack wet lips.  "What?" Norma said, moving onto
the bed on her knees.  "You want to lick me?  Lick my tight little pussy?
Is that it?  Okay." She sat astride his chest, high up, buttocks curved
into tight rounds, thighs taut, splayed wide, eager-tipped breasts hanging
inches from his face.  Leaning forward, taking most of her weight on her
hands and knees, She moved her hips slowly back and forth, then in small
circles feeling the hard, hairy muscles caressing the tender insides of her
thighs, the course chest hair brushing lightly against her moist sex,
sending little electric charges tickling through her abdomen.  "God, I am
needy, Brice.  See?" Brice's eyes twinkled excitement as he watched Norma
sit up straight above him, thrust her breasts out and slide a hand down her
belly.  Tiny beads of sweat dotted her brow as she curved her fingers over
her smooth mons, then under, pulling the soft flesh upwards to reveal the
oily tip of her clitoris nestling in the puffy crease of her slit, the
center of her womanhood.  She rubbed the tip of her middle finger over the
firm button, flicked it with a long, vermilion-painted nail, and gasped
breathlessly, a shudder quivering through her sensitized body.  Easing
forward some more, she pressed her sex to Brice's wet mouth and gasped
again as his frantic tongue, pink and writhing, replaced her finger.  "Oh,
Brice!  That's it!  Right there!  Oh ye-es!  Nothing wrong with your
tongue, honey.  Nothing at all." Brice's lips encircled Norma's fiery bud,
applied just the right amount of pressure, while his electric tongue - just
rough enough - flicked, stabbed and rasped, then probed the entrance of her
sex like a live, hungry snake on a life or death mission.  He slurped
untiringly, noisily.  Norma threw her head back.  She closed her eyes,
rotated her hips gently, rhythmically, working herself swiftly to a peak of
excitement she had rarely, if ever, experienced.  "Oh, yes," she said,
gasping, her voice different, high-pitched, not sounding like her own at
all.  "This ...  Mmm ...  is what ...  major ...  oh ...  therapy is ... 
ah ...  all about.  Oh God!  I'm coming!  Go on, Brice.  Make me ...  come.
Yes, yes ...  like that O-oh ...  Go-od!" A shudder wracked Norma's
gyrating body making her breasts quiver, her buttocks clench, her smooth
belly and thighs jerk spasmodically.  Pleasure washed through her like a
rushing tide and she cried out as though in pain.  As her orgasm gradually
subsided, she curved over Brice's motionless head, eyes closed, mouth
agape, tried to catch her breath, settle the pounding of her heart, but
already the surge of another peak sent urgent messages skidding along her
spine.  Not quite believing her incredible good fortune, she opened
herself, spread herself wide, pressed her soft cloying center, the bright
core of her being tightly over Brice's inventive mouth, raised her head up
and let the tide of lust take her.  "Yes ...  Go on!  Lick it some more! 
Lick it!  Don't stop!  Ah-Aagh!" A minute, maybe two, passed before Norma
could move.  When she did, she languorously slid her taut sweaty buttocks
over the rise of Brice's heaving chest, eased her dripping sex reluctantly
away from his magic lips, his inspired tongue.  Though her body felt
liquid, entirely depleted of resources, she wanted still to go on, could,
in truth, have stayed fastened to her patient's mouth for the rest of the
goddamn day, but she wasn't insatiable, wasn't greedy.  Well - at least,
not all the time anyway.  She held Brice's head in her hands, smiled down
at him, said, "You are a talented man, Mr.  Mortimer.  Very talented."
Brice's eyes focused on Norma's, his mouth silently moved.  He couldn't
voice his thoughts, but his expression did all the conveying necessary.  "I
know," Norma said, her voice tender, understanding.  She lowered her head,
placed her mouth over his and worked her tongue between his teeth.  While
she kissed him, she raised her abdomen, slid a hand down between her legs
and encircled the thick, veiny girth of his rigid penis with her fingers.
Gently, she massaged it for a moment, raised it.  Then, with a tensing of
her thighs and one fluid motion of her hips, she guided the plump head to
her sex, rubbed it along the moist parting of her labia and slowly eased
herself down on it.  She groaned into Brice's mouth as the penis stretched
the walls of her vagina, filled her to brimming.  She lifted away from the
kiss and, staring deeply into his eyes, said, "How's that feel, baby?  Bet
you wanna blow your balls up in there, huh?  Pump me full of your white
jism just like your ol' daddy used to fill my momma, eh?  That ol' bastard
liked to pump it up her ass.  Did you know that?  Oh, yes, baby.  He'd bend
her over those stall rails in that there stable out back and give it to her
reg'lar every afternoon.  Soon as he finished plumbing her bowels, he'd go
right in and give your momma some, too.  Didn't even bother to wash either,
and I know because he used to make me watch!  He even made me rub his cock
a few times if my momma never did as he wanted.  My momma cried a lot back
then.  Hey, let me feel that thing slide a little more." Norma tensed her
straining thighs, raised her buttocks and felt Brice's huge cock slowly
withdraw from her innards till just the fat head was rimmed by the taught
flesh of her seeping cunt.  Then she lowered herself down again on the
rigid pole, felt its girth split her depths with a thrilling rasp that made
her spine curl and her breath explode from her lungs in a delicious moan of
sheer sensation.  "Oooh - Jesus!  Fuck that thing in me!  It's Good, sooo
good!" Just then the doorbell sounded way off in the house somewhere. 
Norma appeared not to notice, continued to slowly fuck herself up and down
Brice's turgid length, getting it ever deeper with each insertion.  Sweat
streaked her body and she was gasping with delight.  Wide-eyed, mouth
gaping, drool spilling down his chin, Brice watched his sexy nurse rise and
fall across his frozen hips.  He was near to coming his load, so near. 
Every time he thought he was there, Norma stopped her erotic writhing on
his throbbing cock, letting it soak in her warm, wet, tightly gripping
sheath.  He groaned and sweat popped on his brow.  "I know, baby," Norma
said, smiling down at her helpless patient.  "I know just what you need."
The bedroom door swung open and a giant of man, naked, black, muscular, his
naked frame glowing with an oiled sheen strode in.  His cock was even
bigger, harder than Brice's.  He smiled a Hollywood white smile at Norma.
Without further preamble, the giant clambered onto the bed, knelt astride
Brice's legs, and took a hold of Norma's fleshy hips.  He spooned against
the firm globes of her shapely ass, took his cock in hand and rubbed the
bulbous head up and down the deep crease.  He pressed it against the tight
roseate of her anus and Norma groaned.  "Oh yeah!  Oh yeah!  Go on, Rufus!
GO ON!" The giant flexed his considerable muscles and pressed home his
attack, his enormous cockhead stretching Norma's anus, grunting as he
slowly fed the whole length inch by thick, solid inch, into her squirming
belly.  "Oh Jesus!" Norma squealed, pressing her haunches back into the
deep thrust.  "Oh, sweet fucking Jesus!" Through slitted eyes, Norma looked
down at Brice, poor, gagging, dumbfounded Brice, her face contorting with
both pain and pleasure as Rufus reamed her ass with exceptional lusty
vigor. After a minute or two, she looked over her shoulder, said, "Wait
Rufus...My God.  Wait just a minute, please." She waited for Rufus to
withdraw his twitching erection from her bowels, then she dismounted from
Brice letting his thick, unsatiated cock slip from her sopping cunt and
slap down onto his rippling belly.  She turned around and wriggled up the
bed a little.  "Brice, Rufus has expressed a deep desire..." she said,
pausing to catch her breath.  "No, perhaps I should say a very deep desire
to fuck your wife in the ass, and by the time I've finished with her,
she'll be more than ready for it, believe me.  I just want you to get a
first-rate view of just what she'll be getting.  Still on her knees, she
turned and bent low spreading her ass cheeks wide.  "Ok, Rufus, baby.  Do
it.  Show Brice just what you'll do to Miz Mortimer's tight, sweet little
ass." Brice's eyes bulged in astonishment and disbelief as the giant Black
once again mounted the nubile nurse's upturned buttocks, split her anus and
sheathed his horse-like cock to the hilt.  Sweating, Rufus rutted with a
deep sense of purpose right up to when he threw his head back, gritted his
white teeth, and pumped his cum into the writhing depths of Norma's belly.
Norma groaned, "Oh God, yes.  YES!  Fuck me!  Fuck me good!" Bug-eyed,
Brice gawped, dribbled, twitched, and let out a high, frustrated wail as he
saw the thick, pearly sperm bubble out around the embedded cock and drip
down Norma's gaping gash.  Norma turned her face to the dememnted patient,
said, "I know, baby.  I know.  But what goes around, comes around."

   to be continued...

   * * *