Ex-citement, Part 1 - a Story
  by Delta Venus

Copyright 2009


The phone call was a bolt of lightning out of clear blue sky.
Electrifying. Frightening. Totally unexpected, and disconcerting.
Brad. She hadn't seen or heard from Brad in ages! A small part of
her had suspected he might be dead. He was very much alive,
though, and he was speaking to her.

"Kris, you gotta help me! I don't have anyone else I can trust!"

/Oh, shit!/ thought Kris. /I can't help him! He'll get me
involved in something crazy for sure. But I can't *not* help him,
I owe him. I owe him big. Shit!/

"OK, Brad, calm down. I'll help you if I can, because I owe you,
but if this is just one of your crazy-ass stunts, or some
get-rich-quick scheme that backfired, count me right out!"

"It isn't anything like that, Kris. I'm so glad you'll help me, I
feel much better already. Meet me at the Blue Duck motel tomorrow
morning, eight sharp, and try not to let anyone see you. Love ya
Kris!"

Click.

/Shit!/


**************

/Why did I do that?/  thought Brad. /I couldn't help myself! She
was always so guilible.../ He chuckled to himself.

Brad was in town on business, and had only decided to call his
old flame on a lark. See if there were still some sparks, maybe
have a little fun. Finding out she was now married hadn't slowed
him down, he had always been a bit of a cad. Still, he hadn't
planned on getting so melodramatic, just a little flirty. Hoping
she might be willing to play the bored housewife wanting some
excitement. When he heard her voice, though, the lies were out of
his mouth before he had any chance of thinking. Now the hook was
set, all he had to do was play the line properly. This would be
exciting, fun, a ton of laughs, and sure to get him laid.

/Brilliant!/

**************

Kris had trouble sleeping that night. She couldn't stop thinking
about the past. Brad had been an exciting boyfriend, the bad boy
all younger girls want. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Exciting! He
was a criminal, mostly petty stuff, but still involved in things
that were illegal and scary. Drugs. Stolen goods. Bad checks. His
friends were an assortment of bad characters from the wrong parts
of town, low level bikers, wanna-be gangsters, dealers and pimps.

Thinking about some of the adventures she had been dragged into
merely by being around Brad created a misty, vaporous feeling of
nostalgia, and a solid, iron-clad feeling of terror. Kris was
scared. Violence had never seemed very far away when Brad was
around. Violence surely couldn't be far away this time!

When she finally did succumb to slumber, she immediately began to
dream. Vivid, colorful, full of intense emotions, this dream was
nothing but highly erotic. The dream was based on a time Brad had
shared her sexually with a "friend", mostly to eliminate a
substantial drug debt. The actual event hadn't been all that
pleasurable. It hadn't bothered her to do this thing for Brad,
and she had been mildly aroused at the kinkiness of it, but the
biker just wasn't attractive to her, or all that skilled at
lovemaking, and mildly aroused is the best it had gotten, even
with Brad putting his considerable skills to work.

This time it was two biker buddies Brad was sharing her with, not
one. Both were big and burly, scary looking, but roughly
attractive and exciting. Kris was wet the moment the dream Brad
suggested they all get "friendly". The sex was rough, not scary
rough, but enough to convey a sense of power, of being
controlled. These guys knew what they wanted, and they were going
to take it. Not only did they know what they wanted, they knew
what they were doing! Screwing like this was the stuff of dreams,
they knew all the right places, they had all the right moves,
relentless, forceful, attentive, appreciative, encouraging. They
made her do things she thought she would never do in bed,
sexually perverted things, nasty things, and they made her like
them!

Kris woke suddenly in the midst of an intense multiple orgasm,
her body covered with a slick sheen of sweat, pussy on fire, the
sheets soaked with her juices, her body wracked with convulsive
contractions, nerves jangling like overstrung wire. Four times
she came after she awoke, who knew how many orgasms she had had
while still in the grips of the dream. She lay in her bed,
exhausted, in spite of just having slept. The alarm went off.

/Shit!/

*************

Brad had no trouble falling asleep that night. Before he went to
bed he made a few phone calls to set things up for the weekend,
and cut up some newspapers to just the right size, bundling them
in rubber band bound stacks with a $20 bill on top and a couple
of $1's mixed in the middle for color, making a very convincing
pile of "cash" when he was done. He then drank some of the beer
he'd bought at a convenience store close to the motel,
daydreaming about Kris as he sipped the cold brew. Once he had a
decent buzz going, he stripped off his clothes, crawled into bed,
and was out like a light.

The alarm woke him in the morning, and he practically sprang out
of bed. Normally he was neither an early riser, nor the type who
was quick to get out of bed, but he was extremely excited with
anticipation of the events he had set up with the phone calls the
night before.

/Will Kris go for it?/ he thought. /Of course she will! The setup
is way too slick, and I know her too well for this not to work./
He still had some minor doubts, but he shoved them to the back of
his mind, and prepared for Kris's arrival, and the fun and games
to begin.

*************

The Blue Duck Motel was definitely not in the best part of town,
which did not please Kris in the slightest. She pulled up just
moments before eight, and parked her Subaru wagon in the nearest
guest space. The motel had seen better days, or maybe it had
always been a dump, even when it was new. It wasn't new now. The
outside badly needed some paint and a little light carpentry, the
parking lot had numerous weed-filled cracks, and the outside
lighting and signs, still glowing with a pale yellow dinginess,
were missing some bulbs and letters.

Brad hadn't given her his room number, and she didn't know what
he was driving these days. He used to ride a Harley, but there
weren't any motorcycles in the parking lot. She went into the
office, through a glass door so dirty it almost looked tinted,
and went up to the check-in counter. The clerk behind the counter
fit right in with the decor, a faded, dumpy looking man, skin and
hair mostly grey, except for a dark five-o'clock shadow. She
asked the clerk what room Brad was in, and he didn't seem to hear
her. At least he didn't look up from the magazine he was reading.


/Is that a porno magazine? Fuck, what am I getting myself into!?/

She coughed, and asked again.

"I heard ya the first time," muttered the clerk. "Hold your
horses." He set the magazine down, and Kris saw the cover very
clearly as he made no attempt to hide it, or put it somewhere she
wouldn't see it. _Threeway Sluts_, with a burned out looking
brunette with huge tits sucking a cock, while another was being
shoved into her shaved snatch. /Classy. I wonder what they saved
for inside.../ thought Kris. /Never mind, I don't want to know!/

"I have him registered in room 2c, that's up on the second floor.
If you are going to be staying..." The clerk delivered that last
remark with a lilt in his voice, and a leer, making no secret of
looking over Kris's body.

"No, no," stammered Kris, a little embarrassed. "We're meeting
for breakfast to discuss some business."

"Business. Of course."

The clerk didn't sound like he believed her for a second, but he
also didn't sound like he gave a damn.

/I should have been prepared for that,/ Kris thought. /A seedy
motel in the bad part of town, of course he thinks I'm a hooker!
What else could he think? Fuck it! Who cares what this perverted
jerk thinks.../

She quickly left the office, found the nearest staircase and went
on up to the second floor. 2c was near the front, so she found it
right away. She knocked on the door, and it quickly opened. Brad
was still half dressed. /And all man! Whew, I'd forgotten how
attractive he is. I'll have to be careful!/ Kris thought.

"Oh, thank god!" Brad exclaimed. "I was worried you wouldn't
show. Come in, come in!"

Brad had been up for quite some time, and could have been fully
dressed and ready to receive visitors. He had deliberately put
that off, knowing Kris had always admired his manly chest. He'd
put on a couple of pounds since the old days, but wore it quite
well, and still looked to be in great shape. He noticed Kris
looking at him, and almost smiled with amusement, but suppressed
it quickly. He didn't want to scare her off before the games had
even begun!

"I'll just be a minute, go ahead and have a seat."

The only chair in the room was covered with junk, a briefcase,
clothing, some papers and other clutter, so Kris reluctantly sat
on the edge of the bed. She couldn't help being a little nervous,
after all here she was alone with a man in his motel room, and
everyone knows what goes down in motel rooms, on motel beds.
Actually she had already been nervous, because she didn't know
what Brad wanted, but sitting on his bed added to that
nervousness quite a bit. She had been intimate with him in the
past, many times in motel rooms much like this one, and thoughts
of those events flickered through her mind. She suddenly realized
that the nervous energy was very exciting.

/Oh, shit! Why am I getting a charge out of this? I should be
ready to run away, screaming! Part of me still wants to. Is it
just because he's attractive? Is it the danger that always seems
to hang around him like a cloud?  Why?/

Brad took his time selecting a shirt, and looked at Kris in the
mirror over the banged up particle board dresser. /Damn, she
looks good!/ She did, too. She was dressed casually, a light
print fake silk blouse, a pair of loose fitting matching shorts
that came about half way down her thighs, and a pair of pink
Reeboks with the shorty socks that left her ankles, well-turned
ankles, exposed. Lightly tanned, she had kept herself in great
shape. Her breasts still rode high and perky, and her hips might
be a little wider than in her youth, but all that did was
accentuate how curvy she was, and how long and smooth her legs
were. Her face was more cute than beautiful, with a bit of a pug
nose, and pouty lips. She had a new hair style, loosely flowing
back around her ears, just about shoulder length, and he noticed
she had gone back to her real color, a dirty straw blonde. /Quite
fuckable!/ Careful to not get caught looking, Brad admired her
sexy form, especially her well-toned legs, for as long as he
thought he could, then pulled on the shirt he had already picked
out, and turned to face her. /Time to get this game rolling.../


*************

Kris still couldn't believe Brad had talked her in to this, but
here she was, heading out of the motel parking lot, with a duffel
bag full of cash in the back seat. She wasn't sure she bought his
story about needing to make a payoff, but being afraid to do it
himself because he was, in his words, "a little late".

/Fuck! What have I gotten myself into?/ Kris thought, and not for
the last time.

The part of town she was heading into was on the edge of the
barrio, not a nice place. She was more than a little frightened
to be going there, especially with a bag full of money. What Kris
didn't know was that while the barrio was still basicaly a
ghetto, the area next to it that she was heading for had been
undergoing urban renewal, with yuppie types buying up properties
and improving them, and was almost thoroughly gentrified now.
There were enough of the older buildings left, and many of the
newer ones still kept the old frontages for historic reasons, so
that it looked bad, and all the faces she saw were Hispanic,
which did nothing to alleviate her fears. If she had looked
closer at those Hispanics, she'd have noticed the upscale
clothing and pampered look of those with money to spend, but she
didn't even want to make eye contact, so those obvious clues
slipped right past her.

She found the address she was supposed to, parked her car in an
underground lot beneath the building, and clutching the bag
tightly, took the elevator up to the fifth floor, where she
guessed apartment 505 would be. She guessed right, and was at the
door of the apartment before she could even catch her breath.
Again, she was missing some rather obvious clues that things
weren't exactly as she had been told, or was expecting. The
parking garage was in good shape, and held lots of cars, almost
none of them more than three years old. The elevator was clean,
in good repair, and free of graffiti. The halls were well lit,
the carpet in them clean and new. This wasn't the wrong side of
the tracks. Way too freaked out to be paying any attention, all
of this went unnoticed.

She knocked on the door, heard some noises from inside, but it
took a minute before the door was finally answered, still secured
by one of those chains that only let it open a few inches. A
blocky, blotchy, bearded face, with sunken, squinty eyes and big,
bushy eyebrows scowled at her through the crack.

"Whatta ya want?" the scowling face demanded gruffly.

"Ummm, I'm here because Brad sent me," Kris stammered. "I've got
your money."

"Damn, leave it to that little pussy to send someone else. He
knew we'd kick the shit out of him, even if he did have all our
money. It better all be there, or there's gonna be hell to pay!

The door slammed shut, there was the noise of the chain being
removed, then the door popped open again, wide open this time.

"Come on in sugar tits!" said the bearded man. "Don't mind the
mess, it don't get much cleaner. So you brought our money? That
it?" he said, pointing at the duffel Kris was carrying.

"Yes, yes it is." Kris stepped inside, and the man closed the
door, and re-latched the chain securing it. The sound of the
chain made Kris more than a little nervous, it wouldn't be easy
to escape in a hurry if she felt the need. The room reminded her
of a college dorm: dirty clothes, beer containers, and pizza
boxes scattered about with no rhyme or reason. The older
furniture wasn't in bad shape, and would have looked great,
except it was mostly covered with old newspapers, magazines, and
grimy oil-stained rags. At least the magazines weren't smut, like
that creep back at the motel had been flashing. They seemed to be
mostly about motorcycles or guns.

She had a better look at the bearded biker. He wore disgustingly
dirty jeans held up with a piece of chain, and no shirt, exposing
a slightly sunken chest and a full keg of a belly, both fully
covered with wiry black hair. Lots of hair, but not enough to
hide the blue ink tattoo of an eagle on his breast plate, the
wings extending onto his pecs. He noticed her looking, and puffed
up a little. "Real beaut, huh? I got that done in 'Nam!" He
chuckled softly to himself, slapping the tattoo loudly with his
palm. Then he coughed, and spit up a huge gob into one of the
pizza boxes laying in the corner. /Fucking disgusting!/ thought
Kris. /Keep cool, girl, just do what you came to do, and get the
hell out of here!/

This mass of a man grabbed the duffel rudely, tossed it on the
glass topped coffee table, roughly scattered the clutter from a
spot on the couch, and sat down. He unzipped the bag, and started
pulling out stacks of cash, wrapped in rubber bands. Kris almost
freaked when she saw this. She knew she was carrying money, but
had no idea the bag had been so full! Brad hadn't let her look,
or count it ahead of time. This was some serious business! Now
she knew why Brad had been so scared. If she owed this biker that
kind of money, she'd have been frightened out of her skull. He
seemed to pay her no attention while he counted the stacks, so
she just stood there barely inside the door, watching him count.

"Whatta ya know! It's all there, plus a little vig. Now we won't
have to kill him!" The biker burst out laughing at his own humor,
if he was joking. Kris really wasn't sure.

"Yes, Brad said he threw in a little extra, for being overdue,
and the inconvenience."

"And because he knew we'd never do fucking business with him
again if he didn't," growled the biker. "We might still just have
to kick the shit out of him, so he don't get any funny ideas, and
so the rest of the people we do business know better than to fuck
us around!" He got up off the couch, and plowed through the mess
towards a closet. "Still, it ain't quite enough. You are going to
do us a favor, sugar tits. Brad would have been doing it if he'd
had the cojones to show up himself, but since he sent you, you
will have to do it."

He rummaged around in the closet for a minute, before hauling out
a big brown cardboard box. He started pulling items out of the
box, and stuffing them in the duffel bag that had carried the
money, which was now empty. He did this quickly, so Kris didn't
get the best look at what he was packing into the duffel, but he
wasn't trying to hide what he was doing. Kris caught a glimpse of
a couple of clear plastic bags full of white powder, and several
other shiny black items that looked suspiciously like guns. /Oh,
holy fuck! I'm doomed. I'm fucking doomed!/

"You, little lady, are going to deliver this bag to the other
side of town for me, just like you delivered it here, and nothing
had better be missing when you get there. The vatos don't like to
be screwed over and more than I do. In fact, they take it a
little more personally than me, and when they take things
personally, they get *real personal*. You understand me, don't
you, sugar tits?"

Kris could only stand there nodding dumbly. She was still quite
shocked.

"Here's the address. Know how to get there? Good. Get going
already. My partner will be back soon, and if you are still here,
he may just want to get back at Brad, and you'll do for something
to work with. You are lucky he was out, I'm not so crude." He
grinned, unchained the door, and held it open for her with a
flourish. "On your way, madame!"

/Jesus Christ! Brad knew something like this was going to happen,
that fucker. I may kill him myself!/ thought Kris as she pulled
her car out of the underground parking, and headed on her way to
deliver a bag full of drugs and guns to some mexican mafia
heavies.

****************

Ring.

"Brad speaking."

"Dude! She is just as hot as you said. She's on her way now, so I
hope you got Pete lined up already."

"Yes, Cameron, Pete is waiting to encounter the lady as we speak.
Told you she was a number, didn't I?"

"Fuck yes! You sure we are gonna get a piece of that?"

"Don't worry your fucked up beard about it, you'll be hitting it
before the weekend is over."

"You should have seen her eyes when I started loading the
powdered sugar and squirt guns into the bag. Those are some
realistic looking toys, man. I was surprised she didn't break
down the door, and run away screaming at the top of her lungs. It
was fucking priceless!"

Brad laughed. "Yes, I would have liked to see that! Luckily I
will get to see the next episode, though. I'll tape it so you and
Buddy can watch it later."

"Cool, bro. I'll be talking to ya."

Click.

Brad laughed some more. /If only Kris knew who that "biker"
really was!/ While it had been easy to talk Cameron into playing
a tough guy, it hadn't been so easy to talk his attorney friend
into trashing his stylish apartment, but Kris wasn't stupid, and
if there were too many clues she would catch on, and the weekend
would be shot. He kept chuckling to himself for a while, thinking
both about what the expression on Kris's face must have been like
after seeing the "drugs" and "guns", and what the look on
Cameron's face had been like when they had finished trashing the
trendy one-bedroom - sort of a mix between someone about to throw
up and someone who'd been kneed in the balls. Brad turned on his
laptop, fired up a video conferencing program, and waited for
Pete to start sending him a signal.

****************

WHOOOOOOOOOP!

"Oh, fuck me!" exclaimed Kris loudly, her eyes snapping instantly
to her rear view mirror. She did *not* like what she saw. A
motorcycle cop was right behind her, lights flashing. She
seriously considered making a run for it, but couldn't work up
the courage, so she pulled the car over, shakinng badly. /Pull it
together, girl! It'll probably just be a ticket for something
stupid./

She took several deep breaths, trying to calm down, but she just
couldn't stop shaking with fear. She knew that the bag on the
backseat was big trouble. If the cop discovered it, she'd be
heading downtown in cuffs. Divorce! A trial! Prison! A butch
cellmate wanting...  /Fucking stop it!/ Kris practically screamed
to herself.

The cop was big. Very big. And black. Very black. He knocked on
her window, and she rolled it down.

"Would you step out of the car please, miss?"

"What's the problem, officer?" Kris stammered.

"I need you to step out of the car, miss. Then we can talk about
what the problem is." He flashed her a grin, revealing a large
gold tooth.

Kris fumbled with the seat belt, finally getting it unbuckled,
and opened her door. She almost fell to the pavement as she got
out, her knees were jelly and didn't want to support her.

"Whoa!" said the big black cop. "Better come around to this side,
and get away from that traffic. We can't have you getting hurt,
miss."

He helped her around the front of the car, until they were
standing just forward of the passenger door, on the side away
from the street.

"Now, considering where I saw you coming from, I'm going to have
to pat you down for weapons. Those bikers you were visiting are
known felons, and dangerous ones at that." He gently, but firmly
bent Kris over the hood of the car, pressing her down until her
breasts were smashed flat against it. He kicked her legs apart,
and began working his hands up her legs from the ankles, slowly
and smoothly, almost caressing. He went all the way up, right
inside the leg bands of her shorts, stopping only when he hit the
point where her legs became something else. He didn't quite rub
her pussy, but he came damn close. He worked his hands back down
outside the shorts, then quickly cupped her buttocks. Before she
could exclaim or protest, he had moved on, working down from her
shoulders this time, feather light touches of her arms, then back
to her body. He let her lift up just a little, and cupped both
breasts lightly, quickly moving down across her belly, and then
removing his hands and stepping back.

Kris felt violated. This cop had just felt her up! /I should be
saying something! If I don't, he'll either think I'm a slut, or
that I'm hiding something.../ Still she couldn't work herself up
to making a protest, though. He hadn't lingered on her thighs or
breasts, he had seemed very businesslike and methodical, in spite
of touching her places only a lover or a doctor should be
touching. /Maybe they always do it that way?/

The cop opened up the back door of the Subaru, and Kris sputtered
"Don't you need a warrant? You can't just go through my things!"
She was almost in tears. She could see the duffel right there on
the back seat, and she knew she was dead meat.

"I don't need one, miss. I have what you call probable cause. I
know who you were visiting. I'm pretty sure I know what is in
that bag that is making you so nervous, too. So, why don't you
sit there on the backseat, with your legs still outside, so you
can't do anything in a hurry, and if you don't do anything
stupid, we'll just have ourselves a little talk."

Kris might have been missing obvious clues all day, but this
wasn't one of them. This big black cop obviously had something in
mind for their "talk", and Kris was pretty sure what it would be.
She felt sudden relief. She wasn't going to jail! She might have
to fuck her way out of this, but that sure beat the hell out of
being arrested.

"I think you know what it is going to take to get me to go
away..."

Kris looked both ways, and could see that the foliage at the side
of the road, and the open door were blocking any passerby from
being able to see what was happening. The cop had picked his spot
well. She sighed, and unzipped his pants, freeing what had to be
the biggest cock she had ever seen! Her hand could barely circle
its thickness, and it was at least ten inches long. She might
have spent some time admiring it under other circumstances, but
she wanted to get this over and done with, so she went right to
work. Kris had always prided herself on being able to give a
killer blowjob, so she went at the task with all the skills she
knew she had. She wanted this cop happy, and she wanted him to
cum quickly, so she could be on her way, and end this nightmare
of a day.

The cop lightly touched her face a few times as she bobbed on his
knob, and never took his eyes off her. Every time she looked up,
he was looking her right in the eye, which made her blush. /Silly
to blush just because he is looking, when I've got his cock
bouncing off my tonsils!/ Kris thought, but it didn't change
things, she still blushed every time they made eye contact. Kris
was giving it her all. She used her hand and her tongue to good
effect, pinching the base of his throbbing cock so it would swell
all the more, and be extra sensitive. She swirled around the
head, and let him thrust to the very back of her throat, almost
gagging when he did, but keeping her rhthym all the while. She
worked that cock like her freedom depended on it! For all she
knew, it did.

Dilemma! What was she going to do when he climaxed? She had only
had cum in her mouth once in her life, before she had even given
up her virginity. She had decided that she would never know what
it was like until she tried it, so she had let her boyfriend talk
her into it. She had hated it! Slimy, salty, acrid, disgusting!
She had almost puked, but managed to only spit it out. She
remembered how much that old boyfriend had hated seeing her spit
out his fluids. This cop wasn't going to be happy if she pulled
him out of her mouth, and had him shoot his cum somewhere else.
He might make a mess of her blouse, too! How could she get
cleaned up? She was going to have to let him cum in her mouth,
and she was going to have to swallow!

He didn't take long, Kris was giving him the best head he ever
had. Pete had had his cock sucked before, but this girl was
really good at it. The swirly, extra attention to the very
sensitive head was something he'd never experienced, and she took
more of him into her mouth than any other woman had been willing
or able to take. He could understand now all the fuss about deep
throat, though even she couldn't take him all the way in. He felt
the tingling in his balls that signaled her was about to cum, and
was surprised when she seemed to sense it was about to happen and
thrust as far down on his rod as she could. He erupted a massive
load right into the back of her throat, and she eagerly slurped
and swallowed it as it shot out, strand after sticky strand. He
felt her gag a little, but she took it all like a trooper. When
he finally subsided, she let his cock slip from between her slick
lips, and licked the last of his spend from the end of his cock,
getting right into the hole. Her lips were shiny with the last
little bit of his semen, until she licked them clean, and smiled.

"So, do I get a pass, officer?"

"Yes, miss. You are free to go. I'll call this in as a minor
traffic violation, and say I issued you a stern warning. Be
careful, you are dealing with some real scumbags!" The cop tucked
himself back into his pants, and walked back to his motorcycle.
Kris was a little please to see that he seemed a little unsteady
on his feet. /I've still got the skills! Now where can I get
something to take this horrible taste out of my mouth? Fuck it, I
can't, I need to finish this damn delivery!" She got back behing
the wheel, and whipped out into traffic in a hurry. She forced
herself to slow down, the last thing she needed was for another
cop to pull her stupid ass over.

*************

/Holy shit!/ thought Brad. /She never did anything like that to
me. She'd never let me cum in her mouth like that!/ He shut down
the video software, and after making a backup copy of the events
he had just witnessed, courtesy of the lapel cam on officer
Pete's uniform, he dumped the video onto a keychain USB drive,
and closed down the laptop.

*************

Stay Tuned for Part 2!

        DV

http://deltavenus.bestdamnpornblogs.com/