Chapter 1
The novelty of shuffling Bekins moving boxes from shivering New England to steaming San Antonio, and now to this Kansas prairie land, had worn thin for Cora Nelson, wife of Colonel Leo Nelson. At first the social indoctrination into rigid military protocol intrigued her, gave the Cuban born immigrant a taste of American culture in its most rigid form. Now, upon calmer reflection and two years of forwarding mail, the distinction, thought Cora with a sigh, had lost its charm.
Things might have been worse. She might have been Vietnamese like many of the lifers' wives. At least the Bay of Pigs incident no longer smelled of gun powder, though Americans still felt queasy about the Vietnamese Conflict.
Cora, a socially conscious woman who shared her husband's staunch belief in relief for the needy, had created a women's consciousness-raising group for other immigrant army wives who felt lonely and ostracized.
That accomplishment put her in the limelight on the army base. Her delicate fingers and tiny toes couldn't count the number of officer club affairs she'd hostessed or the grimances behind pot-bellied Colonels and Generals slinking their arms around her waspish waist and blowing smoke in her face. Now Cora Nelson, wife of the illustrious liberal-minded Colonel, wanted only to be a housewife.
That simple request seemed impossible with a husband like Leo. Civic minded, reform-determined, he gloried in transforming military bases into what his adversaries termed day-care centers. It added up to endless telephone calls and late night meetings.
They all have a part of Leo but me, ruminated Cora, flinging a shimmering flood of waist-length coal black wind-blown hair out of her eyes. The telephone could ring itself off the hook, but she wouldn't budge from the chaise lounge on this rare solitudinous day.
A heavy sigh broke from her throat and inhaling the warm, dry summer air, she stretched one golden leg to drape over the plastic chaise lounge on the backyard patio. She turned it slightly so the sun could peek between the satiny flesh of her slender inner thighs and tan it to an even wheat perfection of the rest of her golden flesh. The naughty little pink bikini stretched with elastic tenacity across the firm curves of her slenderly proportioned body, from the strip of a strapless top that graced low in her cleavage between the melonous half moons of her breasts where all but the rosebuds of her nipples showed through the stretchy fabric ... down to the pouting mound hugged snugly in a handsized triangular patch, dipping dangerously below her navel to nip up the thighs, allowing a few fugitive black curls to peek out around the elastic legbands.
A military man's wife? Few would guess it! None of the stiffness of army protocol froze the smile of this lovely wife, nor the weary lines crowfeeting her eyes, one for each Bekins move.
Something eternally youthful shone in Cora's pearly smile. Coal black eyes which shone with diamond limpidity, round and innocent, set wide in a small face framed with straight, glistening black hair. Five feet four and one hundred and five luscious pounds of flawless flesh covering a petite bone structure, hardly appeared twenty-five years of age. The provocative glint in her eyes and the enviable figure set the generals' and colonels' wives' tongues wagging. Some believed the Colonel had falsified her immigration papers and had married a child bride.
As she smiled up at the sun and stretched languidly on the warm, clinging plastic of the chaise lounge, her heavy breasts rose and fell with the lazy breathing of a warm Kansas summer day. She cupped a yawn.
Rare days like this, when the neighbor's children weren't fighting on the other side of the picket fence and the dishes sat drying in the drainer, Cora began to feel a sting of loneliness. As her glistening body shimmered under the sun, she turned her concerns to her husband's numerable problems in his struggle to eradicate prejudism against the four-thousand five-hundred Cuban refugees house in the Lawrence, Kansas army base.
The town was in an uproar! A big adjustment, playing mother to a camp of disillusioned, unemployed refugees it was for a town that prided itself on never having rented to a Mexican or Black. After the first month, the population had gulped down pride and backed by Baptist demands, hosted charities to raise funds for the countryless people and a massive church drive collected clothes and blankets ... all of which helped to crack the ice of zenophobia.
All but one, that is. Lawrence's Mayor Dillon was deadset against aiding "any idiot who came to America expecting to collect welfare." He managed to amass a handful of powerful county welfare administrators to add ammunition to his battle against one Colonel Leo Nelson whose appearance in Lawrence heralded one hell of a nuisance. "The welfare funds will be drained," persuaded Mayor Dillon to television reporters. 'Taxpayers are getting another swift kick in the ass," he was reported saying at the Lawrence Fourth of July celebration in the village park. "We'll end up supporting immigrants who can't even sign a welfare check!"
He hammered on the podium that sunny day, competing for attention with the Little League Softball Tournament enthusiasts. "How many of you here get food stamps?" He took a quick count while the people shyly raised their hands and the meddlesome gaped as secrets surfaced. Dillon shook a warning finger. "Add four-thousand five-hundred to that and guess who's not going to be eating steak, huh?"
The church versus state became the bottom line. Military versus small town politics became the top line. The town flew into a tizzy. Though none of the citizens, including the fund raisers, had visited the army base camp, reports spread of violence, incest, starvation, rare diseases the army doctors couldn't cure.
With military backing, Colonel Leo Nelson answered those charges of prejudism. He invited the press, the television station, the mayor himself ... no response. Threats against his life rang in the middle of the night and he'd learned to drive very carefully outside the military camp. But federal government is the big daddy, and Colonel Nelson garnered his permission to continue his cause ... putting the screws to the mayor.
And where is the Colonel now? wondered Cora, flipping over onto her back, Tuesday, wasn't it? Oh, yes, today he'd be meeting with the two town council members to sign a proposal, passed by the federal government stamp of approval, to start a program whereby the Cuban refugees would be allowed to find work.
A pricklish situation that one! The plan involved finding local sponsors for the Cuban youth who, cooped up in dreary army barracks with no pool halls or cars for backseat amours, had vented unpent energy in Florida riots. By diverting that riotous energy, the Colonel hoped to prove to Lawrence citizens that indeed, these people were hirable and that if the youth can be trusted, most certainly their parents could. "Why not hire these youth, take them under our arms and show them America's Christians welcome them!" convinced Colonel Nelson.
The word Christian was magic, for in truth, the citizens balked at the worrisome thought of welcoming foreigners into their homes. Hadn't they proven themselves God-loving by raising funds and donating old diapers? Must they come face to face?
Cora's mind buzzed with these thoughts as the sun's rays played over her oil gistening bumps and curves. The telephone rang and she was about to spring for it, when the lazier part of Cora Nelson refused. Hadn't she fulfilled her civic duties at last night's officer's party, flashing smiles she didn't feel and sitting at opposite ends of the table from Leo?
Opposite ends. Cora sighed resignedly. Would she and Leo always be separated, with the military between them? Army this, army that ... you'd think this were a communist country! Humanist that he was, Colonel Nelson was fired with ambition to climb up the ranks, and his lovely young wife was a handy tool.
"I want you to laugh at General Daily's jokes tonight, honey. You know how uptight he is when he feels ignored. "Don't be upset if I'm not hanging on your arm ... there's always later," he'd wink, straightening a metal on his crisp uniform that never showed a flick of dandruff or lint.
The promised rewards of bedded amours had a knack for evaporating into the night air. Like last night ... Cora couldn't count the nights she'd lay awake unable to sleep from the tingling frustration between her lovely, untouched thighs, a frustration from damnable abstinence, she would listen to the rustling sheets next to her warm waiting body, and hear Leo mumble in his sleep. Preening her ears for an "I love you ... "praying this would be the night to compensate for last time. Patriotism could only go so far, she'd whimper silently, hearing him mutter fragments from conversations with General Daily.
On those soul-rending nights that chomped at her female ego, Cora would punch the pillow, defeated blaming herself for lack of compassion. Something was amiss, but what? she wondered, blinking back tears that never touched her satiny cheeks. Half the women on the base would desert their beds to slip beside the handsome, blonde haired, blue-eyed Nordic Colonel. If they only knew, she sobbed. General Daily's wife probably has sex more than I do-and she's sixty-two years old!
Deep in Cora's tender soul a purl of something resembling resentment percolated and bubbled. Last night was the dead end....
Another boring party at the Officer's Club where the man dragged their wives for appearances' sake; the men smoking cigars and drinking gin up straight (on the rocks was unmanly), and the women sipping Tom Collins and whispering rumors. That military men had a penchant for foreign born women, irked the Cuban wife. Did the cigar chomping hawks think her subservient and easy prey because of her Latin blood? To add weight to the clumsiness, most of the men were husbands of women in her consciousness raising group!
When Leo had finally pried himself loose of General Daily's foul jokes, one too many drinks puddled his gullet. Alcohol and fatigue were not kind to a man's bladder.
When finally they stumbled home at twelve o'clock, smelling of cigar smoke and gin, Cora had rushed to the bedroom ahead and slipped into her black gown, a Christmas present from Leo. The dangerously dipping neckline plunged to the waist, the transparent black revealing the soft mounds of her breasts, and strawberry nipples. A drawstring nipped at her waist, and the swells of her hips and thighs made a tempting outline beneath. Her heart pounded triple time. On the ride home, Leo had toyed with her thigh and whispered epitaphs of lust second only to their wedding night. A night of good loving would calm his nerves and do wonders for her ego!
Leo had headed for his den, a wood paneled room at the end of the hall overlooking the backyard. "Don't be there all night, please?" she'd cajoled.
"No way, honey," he'd promised.
Armed with that assurance, Cora added a perfumey touch, pulled the pins from her hair to let it hang sexy and loose, the way Leo liked it, and brushed it until it shimmered. Practicing in front of the mirror, she thrust out one hip so that the gathers spread and the diaphonous fabric gave a luscious view of her fringed mound of Venus.
Cora slunk out of the bedroom, hoping to find her husband in the bathroom located next to the dressing room. She peeked in the closet, expecting to see his uniform hanging stiffly from the hangar. The two Tom Collins had worked on her, too, and second thoughts about blatantly seducing her husband brewed in her mind.
Perhaps I should be more demanding, she decided. I'm clinging to my old world values ... American women are liberated and I'm an American! A vision of his loving penis sprang lewdly into her speculative mind. He was her husband, she had the right to seduce him!
No spray of water sounded from the bathroom and, disgruntled, her tiny pink lacquered toes dug into and turned on the soft carpeted hallway, heading for Leo's den. Steeling herself for disappointment, she peeked inside. There he sat, his dress uniform jacket weighted down with brilliant stripes was draped over the back of his chair. Head bent, he scribbled something on a yellow legal pad.
"Leo!" Her tone of voice shocked herself; Cora was not a demanding wife. "I thought you were coming to bed! You promised!"
"Hi, honey." He grinned crookedly. He held up a silencing finger. "I'm almost done."
Leo lifted his head and smiled disarmingly at his wife. Wide blue eyes and a straight proud nose gave an aristocratic tilt to his tanned face. An advocate of running, he covered eight miles of army ground at six o'clock every morning. He abhored sweets, refused cigars arid only drank socially. The results were evident in his lanky, square-shouldered masculinity.
Cora's shoulders drooped in defeat. "Please...."
"Jus' a few more figures to work out, and I'll be done," he assured.
Knowing words were useless, Cora turned on her heel, the black nightgown clinging to her hip-swinging stride, and slammed shut the bedroom door. Hurt and frustration burned within her. She wanted to cry and pound her fists, but that wouldn't relieve the heavy congestion in the pit of her belly!
With a frustrated sigh, she threw herself onto the king-sized bed and pulled the covers over her Goddess body, and tried to still her heart. Times like this, she wished she smoked cigarettes, but that, being one of Leo's unfallable rules would never be. Anything injurious to one's health was automatically censored in their house. Well, damn-a. good hard screw just might be good for the health once in a while!
Minutes stretched into hours, and still no Leo. Cora blinked open one chocolate eye at the digital clock and balled up her fists. Throwing back the covers, she stomped to the wall light switch and adjusted the rheostat so that a pale yellow glow suffused the room.
When he finally stumbled into bed, she wanted to know what time it was-ammunition for tomorrow morning's complaints! Back in bed, she lay on her side, studying her berry tanned Goddess like beauty in the wall-length mirror.
Cora's critical eye studied the image of herself, wondering if Leo's lack of sexual aggression was her fault. Did he find disfavor with the full rise of her wide set breasts with the deep cleavage between the succulent mounds of tanned flesh; the way her lissome body swept into an incredibly tiny waist, with only the most gently enticing curve to break the flatness of her belly; the rich swell of her hip and ass cheeks and the fully triangle of blue-black pubic curls; and the long sweep of her slender thighs and legs, one leg drawn up higher than the other. Before marrying Leo, she had modeled in Atlanta, Georgia. She hadn't gained an ounce since marriage, so certainly he didn't think her unattractive.
But Cora was more than a Cosmopolitan cover girl. She was a woman with real feelings and real needs-like the one burning in the pit of her empty belly!
The insistent aching in Cora's fevered loins slowly fired to match the warm glow bathing her Goddess-like beauty. Shimmering blue-black hair cascaded over her tanned shoulders as she cogitated the temptation of taking on another lover. Army base grapevines had many roots and it would hurt Leo in the end. Onerous and pagan as it seemed, she would have to resort to that again.
Practice makes perfect and Cora had perfected her moves. First, she would use her hand, watching herself rubbing her own swollen vagina in the wall length mirror. If it weren't for this oneristic ritual, she swore she'd have gone crazy these past months! All she wanted to feel was the plunging hardness up inside her seeping pussy, and if that meant using her fingers, then fingers it was!
Sighing, the nearly naked woman turned on her back and cupped her ripely mature breasts in her hands, squeezing the soft flesh, teasing the puffy nipples until they throbbed into diamond chips. Her breath slowed, laboring, as her searching fingers slowly lifted the hem of her peignoir to expose the warm swells of her smooth unblemished body. Wanting this orgasm to last, she held back from contact with her pussy until it was unbearable, until she could feel the warm fluids begin to ooze from her pulsing vagina where the rich pink folds filled with blood to separate like a budding rose opening into a flower. One hand moved through the softness of her coal black curling pubic hair, barely touching, whispering over the begging, moistened cuntal slit.
"AGGGGGHHHHH!!!" she moaned, her rich lips parting with mounting desire. Her slender, lacquered fingertips danced lightly over her curl-fringed pussy, feeling the oily droplets of cuntal juice forming along her pulsating vaginal furrow. Her hands moved to the ticklishly sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, caressing their berry-hued smoothness, and lightly she scraped the velvety skin with her fingernails as her entire body began to slowly undulate on the bed, her buttocks gyrating in tiny circules of lust. She realized then that she hadn't locked the door! Her stomach knotted at the fear of Leo stumbling in to find his wife shamelessly fingering herself.
Cora's sloe eyes slitted. To hellwith him! Maybe he'd get the message!
Knees raised, her long tanned legs splayed wide, Cora finally dipped her fingers into the seething folds of her cunt. A aaahhhh! Dripping and ready ... but for something thicker than just her fingers!
Burning with desire, the long-haired beauty spread the soft, swollen flanges of her moist pussy, arching her back and thrusting her pelvis upward. She traced the delicate line of her coral-hued pussy lips with the fingers of one hand, deliberately teasing herself with flicks of her long nails. The erect bud of her clitoris was her target and slowly, tantalizingly, she rubbed the sensitive knob with a circular motion of her thumb until it throbbed with lip-biting sexual desire.
Then ... ahhhh! She stroked her fingers up and down the length of her cuntal slit, even into the crease of her tight ass cheeks until her fingertips brushed across the tiny puckered ring of her anus.
Faster her hand moved, until the female juices of her unpent passion were flowing from deep within her womb, slicking her fingers with a sticky wetness. With an abrupt movement, she shoved her long middle finger all the way up into the steaming morass of her flexing cuntal hole, feeling her tight vaginal muscle clamp her fingers, milking them.
Lord, how could Leo deny himself such pleasure!
"Ohhhhh!" the lust-incited brunette gasped, succulent lips parting. Her finger was so pathetically inadequate, so small, so slender, when what she really needed was to have her belly filled with Leo's hard cock ... and how beautiful his cock wsa, too, thick and veiny. Furiously, she clenched her teeth and began to run her stiffened finger in and out of her deprived pussy, whimpering and flailing her shimmering hair in black waves with every brutal plunging stroke.
One finger just couldn't do the job, she winced. Desperately, she plunged another up alongside her middle one, raping her well-lubricated cunt, stretching her vagina as wide as her husband's thick cock would have. It just wouldn't reach her cervix, wouldn't go deep enough into her ravenously sucking pussy to satisfy her yearnings.
Whimpering with the need to cum, she thumped her thumb against her clitoris with every thrust, bringing her to the precipice of orgasm. Desperately, she scissored her legs and rolled onto her side. She reached behind herself with her left hand and split her ass cheeks apart, exposing the tiny ring of her puckered anus to the cool air of the blowing air conditioner. Frenetically, she put the middle finger of her right hand into her mouth and swirled her tongue over it, coating it with her own hot saliva. Arching her back, she thrust her smoothly rounded buttocks outward and pressed her moistened middle finger against her resisting anus.
"Ahhhh!" Cora threw back her head and gasped as the finger stretched the stubbornly restraining sphincter muscle and popped into the wet depths of her rectum. Breathing deeply, she lay still for a moment before undulating her pelvis in a circular motion. Feeling her own finger buried in her anus was a totally new sensation for the love-deprived woman and, relentlessly she forced that finger deeper into the resisting hole, working it in and out until finally the palm of her hand slapped against her wide-splayed buttocks. Rocking her pelvis in slow back and forth motions, she screwed more savagely into her clasping vagina while her thumb thumped the tingling bud of her bloodfed clitoris. "Ahhh...." she shrilled and hearing her own screams of joy, clamped her pearly teeth over her rosy lips, frightened that Leo might hear.
In the yellow glow she watched her hand as a dim blur flashing in and out of her puckered anus and could feel her nails scraping the sensitive inner flesh of her pussy and rectal passages, but the slight pain only caused her to increase the fury and violence of her manual fucking. It roiled in her veins ... she was ... was she? ... she was cumming!"
A sea of fire spread like molten lava through her quaking belly, making her inner cunt muscles frantically clench and spurt gushes of thick, whitish cream from the lips of her burning hot vagina down over her red fingernails and insides of her slender, tanned thighs and dripped too, down the widespread crack of her spasming buttocks.
She knew she should have used a towel; her lust would stain the sheets. But the rich aroma of her satiated pussy flared in her nostrils and she just couldn't pull her fingers free for such menial cautions. Both hands plunged into her straining vagina until she could cum no more without screaming. Finally, her swollen flanges could not stand the contact any longer; the bittersweet pain of orgasm had passed and the contact of her thumb on her clitoris was too electrical to bear.
Drained, exhausted and ready for sleep, she fell on her back, breathing deeply, her black hair flooding over the pillow.
And just in time! The door cracked open and Cora heard Leo slip out of his shirt, his shoes, his socks. Had he heard her moaning behind the closed door. Did he know what she was up to? For a moment she feared he might actually want to make love to her ... and there would be explaining to do ... wouldn't that be ironic! But he tumbled exhaustedly into bed, the honorable army Colonel. Snores rumbled from his chest the second his head hit the pillow.