Chapter 4
Bikini Bonanza
About then, the camera ran out of film. Which was just as well since I had plenty of evidence, and, anyway, I'd seen about as much as I could stomach for one night. I packed up my stuff, replaced "Harvest in Vermont," and split.
It cost me another twenty to have the ever-helpful motel manager point out Rodney's car. But it was worth it. The registration card strapped to the steering column gave me his full name and address. And, lucky me, I found one of his business cards in the glove compartment. It read: "Rodney Gervis, Public Relations, Wondaslick, Inc."
Wondaslick was an aerosol spray propelled vegetable shortening and Lorelei Oil's principal competitor.
I dropped the film cassette off at this little developing place on Lombard Street. For an extra fifty, they do rush work at all hours, and, more important, they have very short memories.
After six hours sleep, I rolled by the photo shop, picked up the cassette and headed for Lorelei Oil. Let me tell you, I felt on top of it, too. I had the goods, but good on Cena. I was figuring on a big fat bonus from a heartbroken but grateful husband. I figured wrong.
No sooner had I stepped out of the elevator than cocked guns were shoved in my face. The outer office was lousy with cops. Secretaries were crying. Flashbulbs were exploding. It was chaos.
"Bad-ass Bascom," Detective Ramon of Homicide said, patting me down with one hand while holding his .357 Magnum at the base of my skull. "We'll nail your prick to the wall for this one."
"I want to see a lawyer," I said, a reflex response as chrome handcuffs locked my wrists together behind my back.
"Funny fella," Ramon said, shoving me in front of him into the inner office and Bikini-land.
The milling blue shirts, plainclothesmen, forensic types, bawling teenage chicks, all parted before me, Ramon and his drawn gun like a wave.
"I got the bastard," Ramon announced, twisting his hand in the back of my collar and using the gun muzzle like a crow bar against my back bone. He pushed me over in front of what has been the long salt water aquarium tank. There was a long form under a white sheet in front of the tank. It had been a person.
"Take a look at your handiwork, Grue," Ramon snarled, drawing back the sheet.
Electrocution is not a pretty way to go. Especially for such a young chick. My feet squished on the sopping wet rug. "I didn't do this," I said.
"Uh-huh..." he said sarcastically.
I just looked at him. He blew up.
"Stinkin' P.I. thinks he's such hot shit he can beat a Murder One rap!! ! " he shouted to the assembled officers. "Who paid you?! ! ! " he demanded, pushing my head towards the charred corpse. "It wasn't this chick you were supposed to hit. It was Hidalgo, right? Who hired you?! ! ! "
Having learned from experience when to yell and when to keep the trap shut, I just let him rave on. What had happened was obvious: someone had connected high voltage wires to the metal frame of the tank so that when Hidalgo, as was his habit, fed the shark, he would get friend. The secretary must've strolled by and absently tapped the glass. And that was that. The whole wall was blackened from the electrical flare-up, the thick glass shattered, the poor shark poached to a turn.
"okay, Grue. I gave you a chance to level with us," Ramon said. "Let's go downtown and see what it'll take to make you spill your guts...."
"Officer, let him go..."Cosimo said irritatedly as he entered the room. "Mr. Grue is working for me on a private matter that has nothing to do with this."
The stumpy tycoon, for a man who just missed a very unpleasant death, seemed cool and clearheaded. He ordered the police around like he was personally paying their salaries ... which may have actually been the case.
"You're making a big mistake letting this crud go," Ramon said, unlocking his cuffs from my wrists.
"Detective ... Ramon is it? Would you please get this mess cleaned up and your people out of here? Hidalgo snapped.
Ramon jumped.
"Come in the back room, Mr. Grue," Hidalgo said, leading the way.
The room was already occupied by a weeping girl of about nineteen. She was petite, her dark hair in a pony tail, and her firm body in a tiny string bikini. Her high tits were mashed up on her chest by the tight bra cups and her legs were long and slender. Even bawling her head off, as she was, she was a prick straightener.
"Marylou, child," Hidalgo said paternally, putting his oleaginous hands on her sleek shoulders. "You must be strong." He looked up at me. "The poor thing discovered the body." His hand slipped down her back and into the tiny triangle of cloth that hardly covered her sweet ass. His touch was no longer fatherly. "Come on, you must go out of here so we can talk..." he said, helping her to the door.
She took one look at the wreckage and broke out crying again, burying her little cat-face in her hands.
"Alright, Marylou, you don't have to go out there," Hidalgo said, helping her into a chair. He shrugged his sloping shoulders at me. "I want you to take on a new assignment..." he began.
"Whoah! Wait a minute" I protested, digging the film and a slip of paper from my coat pocket. "You paid for this." I handed him the cassette and Rodney Gervis' name, address and employer. He looked at the paper and nodded his oily head.
"Fine, fine," he said. He showed no surprise, no grief, no anger. He put the film and the paper down on the desk. "You've done just fine. But now I have something else for you. I need a bodyguard. I need one immediately," he said.
"Hey, no," I said, waiving my hands and heading for the door. "That's not my line."
"For a thousand dollars?"
I turned around, grinning. "Sold!" I said.
"Good. I have some pressing business to attend to now," Hidalgo said. "Why don't you see if you can calm Marylou down a bit?" He gave me a leer as he closed the door. A bug-eyed satyr if I ever saw one.
I looked at the sobbing girl. She was sitting in an office chair, biting her knuckles and blubbering to herself. The skin on the inside of her thighs looked silky smooth and the way her boobs heaved, thrusting themselves against the flimsy fabric, threatening to burst free, made my cock ache. I wanted to console her alright.
I stepped over to the door and locked it. She didn't even notice. She was oblivious to everything but her own misery. There was something very touching about the way she cried, she was so vulnerable, so small like a child really, except for the way she was put together. I was truly touched ... in the balls. My cock stiffened and the front of my pants stuck out like a tent, but I made no move to cover myself.
"Hey, Marylou, it's okay, baby," I said in my best reassuring tones. "Really. There's no danger now. Not with me here. I'll protect you."
For some reason that provoked another burst of tears.
I put a hand on her shoulder and a spark of electric current rapped my palm. Her skin was a hundred times softer than velvet. "Come on, stop crying," I said, massaging her tense shoulders. I stood behind her, getting a fantastic view over her shoulder of heaving tits. The deep cleft between her boobs was made for a tongue to drool over, a thick cock to slip through.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" I asked, gently tugging on her ponytail, pulling her face from her hands.
"It was SO ... AWFUL!! " she bawled, tears streaming over her cheeks. Her breath came in little panting gulps.
I let go of her hair and circled the chair to face her. "Come on," I said. "Get it off your chest."
"OHHH!" she cried, jumping up from the chair and throwing herself on me. She mashed her fine boobs into my chest and made my shirt soggy with her tears.
"It's okay," I said, digging the feel of her tits in my belly, her small form smuggled up against me. I slid my hand down her smooth back and patted her round ass. Her cheeks were full and firm and there was just a hint of downy fuzz at the top of her crack. My cock, held tightly between her thigh and mine, pulsed. She had to have felt it, but she made no move to escape.
"Tell me about it," I said again, fondling her ass.
"Oh-uh . . uh," she tried to stop her hysterical breathing, and could not. "Uh . . OH GOD! Dixie! She was . . uh-ohhh . . god!" she wailed.
I removed my hand from her buns, pulled her head from my chest by the ponytail, and gae her a sound slap on the face.
"Ohhhhhh!" she cried, touching her cheek in disbelief, and pushing away from me.
"Calm down!" I ordered, sliding my hand down into the seat of her bikini. It was smooth and warm inside and her naked cheeks felt good in my palm.
She stopped gibbering, but her eyes were still wild with panic.
"I came b-back from the duplicating r-room," she said, shivering against me, her hands clinging to my shirt. "All the p-power went out. L-lights and everything...."
"Go on," I urged, squirming my fingers between her buns, into the gight, hot crack.
" ... Oh, I thought it was j-just a f-fuse," she cried. "I c-came b-back to find out w-what was wrong. I walked into the m-main office ... and ... GODITWASDIXIE!! ! SHE WAS ... oh, god!"
My fingertip touched something deep in her crack, something red hot and puckered, something fringed by a ring of downy hairs. The something had a slick little nubbin of extra flesh above it, a floral adornment. I twiddled the nubbin above her ass-hole, feeling suddenly very hot in my suit.
"Tell me all of it!" I said, nudging her tight sphincter with my finger tip.
"It's t-too HORRIBLE!! " the frantic girl ranted. "The water rushing out ... THE BLACK SMOKE!! ! ! " She coughed and sputtered on her own tears, grinding her face into my shirt.
Her butt hole nursed at the tip of my finger, squeezing very hard as she coughed. I moved my hand lower, fingers across the super slick band of skin between cunt and bunghole. The sweet fuzz was only slightly thicker there and I ran my fingers over it, trying in vain to reach just a bit lower, to touch her pussy. But the bathing suit kept me from it. I would not be denied. I untied the single bow know holding her bikini bottom on, and the twin triangles slipped to the floor.
"It's over now, Marylou," I said, groping with renewed fury between her buns. With my broad finger tip I spread the tight pussy lips I found amid the nest of downy pubes. A slick lubricant rushed out to greet my digit.
"Oh . . uh . . oh . . " she wept, mindless of my finger.
The swelling lips gave way to a sizzling slot and deeper yet, to a tiny, flexing pussy entrance. I bored up into her and the narrow tube opened under the insistent pressure, parting over my finger, the slick ridges and valleys bumping my knuckle.
"Relax," I said huskily as I began fingerfucking her like a demon. I whipped my digit in and out of her tight box, bringing in a gusher of viscous juice that pooled in my palm. I spread her ass-cheeks and fitted my thumb to her ass-hole, all the while flipping finger up her snatch.
Still the girl wept. The shock of her experience had all but shattered her sanity. It felt so crazy to be diddling her, groping her hungrily and have her be numb to it all. like she was living in another world. Crazy and great, too. Her pussy was so juicy and hot around my finger. I could imagine the thrills it was going to give my cock. As I undid my belt and fly, I wondered when she'd come out of it, and what she'd do when she realized what was going on?
"Easy, baby," I cooed to her, letting my pants fall to my ankles. My cock sprang straight up once freed by the confining trousers and underwear. The searing helmet brushed her hands, her forehead but she paid it no mind. I sat down in the chair and held her by the hips. Such a sweet mound! Plump and dewy with juice. I reached out and nuzzled it with a crooked finger. The hot petals left a trail of fragrant goo on my knuckle. "Come on, sit on Uncle Bascom's lap, Marylou," I said, my cock arching up, straining, a deep red about the cap.
"Uhhhhhh!" she cried, her face hidden in her hands.
"Let me help you," I said, reaching out. "Lift your leg up over ... that's it." I made her straddle my bare thighs. She stood on the floor, half-hunkered over my lap and the hard length of my cock.
I slipped both hands over her round hips and down to grip her ass. So good! Then I pulled her crotch towards the shiny underside of my cock, kneading her buns the whole time.
She nearly fell forward, stumbling on her high heels, but I held her up by the grip on her ass. Her downy muff hung over the great sausage of my cock and the tight nut bag beneath. It looked so small in comparison to the arching shaft aimed at my chin. The girth of my cock dwarfed her entire crotch.
I pulled harder, making the hot muff graze the thick shank of my cock. Slick joy thundered into my prick head as her juicy pussy lips parted, smooching my shaft, sliding up it, leaving behind a snail's trail of funky goo.
I kneaded and pulled and pulled and kneaded, sliding her slippery slot up and down my pud, while the poor thing fell into a fit of racking sobs.
"There, there," I said, breathing with difficulty. I released her butt long enough to take hold of the bottom of her bra cups and lift up, spilling out a firm pair of tits. "That's better," I croaked, pinching a tender rosebud with one hand while resuming the pussy on dick friction with the other.
It was getting so slick in the genital department that her snatch practically flew up and down my cock. The hot stuff trickled over my balls and down my asscrack. And her pussy had opened even further ... the fat lips parting like a mouth, half-circling my shaft as they moved.
I could stand it no longer. I let her taut nipple go and pushed her away from me. She stood hunkered and trembling, her crotch leaking stuff, as I slid down in the chair, gripped my cock and bent it down, away from my belly and towards her cunt. It hurt to turn the swollen joint out of its normal arch, but the little muff that hung over it promised to soothe away the pain.
Lower I slid so that the tip of my cock nestled into the small, gushing hole. The heat of her snatch burned my dick head and sent wild spasms jerking through my balls. Once snug in the pocket, I edged up a bit so it wouldn't slip out.
My cock stuck up lewdly, a great reddish gray pole crammed into the dainty slot, my crisp pubes grazing the smooth silky skin of her inner thighs. I looked at her face. The anguish, the endless river of tears. Where was she? What was she thinking? Damn if I cared!! !
I gripped her ass in both hands and simultaneously lifted and scooted back up in the chair, hoisting her up on my stiff cock. Her toes could not touch the rug. Her whole weight fell upon the tiny orifice, pressing it relentlessly down over the bullet head of my cock.
"WAAAAAAH!" she bawled, her mind off somewhere in a nether world of self-torture, while she dangled, spitted like an apple, over my belly.
For an instant her weight threatened to break the power of my hard-on, then, as she leaned from side to side, trying reflexively to touch the ground with her toes, she rocked her squeaky tight pussy badk and forth over my cock head, squirming the small ring of flesh down over the blazing cap.
At the first feel of her scorching depths, I took hold of her ass and pulled down with all my strength, squashing her cheeks in my fists. Slowly, GOD! So slowly, her tube began to part, to stretch, to swallow my cock. And it was tastier than I ever dreamed! Such delicious corrugations! Such mind-numbing skull joy to see my cock, greasy red tree trunk, disappearing into her pussy. It looked like half her mound was being taken inside with it ... hairs, inner and outer lips, all turned in on themselves as my cock slipped in further.
"Oh! OH! WAAAAAA! UH-UH
WAAAAAAH!" she blubbered, her flat tummy visibly being pushed out by the girth of my pud.
When her tube stopped swallowing cock, she still hung two inches from the bottom of my prick. Her cunt lips mouthed my shaft, dribbling hot slobber over it and into the kinky next of my pubes. I couldn't stop with just two inches to go, two inches until her tightly stretched pussymouth mumbled into the slimy root of my cock.
I took hold of her shoulders and pulled her towards me. Her cunt held, and held, and I could see her thighs beginning to tremble from the pressure, and then, it gave way and she slid slowly down my prick. She slid until her pussy nuzzled in my hairs, impaled to the bottom of her being on my oozing dick.
"Uh-oh-uh-uh," she breathed brokenly, her face in her hands.
I tried to lift her pussy up, to get more of the slithery friction going between cock and cunt. But I couldn't budge her. I swear I was in her so deep
I could feel her heart beat through the head of my prick.
I began to jiggle her on my lap like a little girl. Her ponytail and her tits bounced in time. And as I jiggled faster, raising and lowering my thighs on tiptow, my cock started to move. At first, it didn't slip at all, but just tugged against the blazing ring that held it in place. Then, it budged, such a tiny, squeaky bit. And again! The friction was ball-breaking. My cock was moving an eighth of ah inch in and out of her tube and I could barely keep from squiring then and there.
Faster and faster I bounced her. Her wailing was a quaking, stuttering sound as her butt bumped into my thighs at a dizzying speed.
In . . out . . in . . out . out . outinoutinoutin-out. Every bounce got more tube slipping up and down my cock.
"There, there, sweetheart," I said. "Isn't that better?"
Her pussy moved like it was on Teflon bearings, sputtering trapped air and juice, sending heady fumes wafting up to my nostrils.
"OOOOOOH!" Marylou moaned, her pussy gripping my cock, holding it with such force that the rapid in-out movement stopped dead. "OOOOOOOOOO!" she whimpered and it was a different cry than before.
Her blue eyes opened wide. She looked at me with terror, joy, and a be one chilling need in her face. "OOOOH! OOOOH!" she whined as her cunt squeezed the life out of my cock. She was coming, and at the same time, she was coming out of it.
"LOORRRRRDDD
"She groaned, flipping her hips, moving the ring of her pussy barely an inch up the shaft.
But what an inch! The hot bumps of her tube lambasted the head of my cock, sending the hanging folds of my nerve bundle into terminal spasm. My nuts flexed. A flock of whopping cranes excited my ass-hole.
Her pussy squeezed, sucking the sperm from deep in my balls, up from ducts and tubes, up the long shaft of my cock.
"UHHHHHH!" she cried, clenching her fists. "YESSSSS!" As thick and sizzling man juice spurted up inside her box.
I sat in the chair holding onto the arms for dear life. Her pussy used my cock like a soda straw, slurping every drop of come, making it bubble and froth up my dick, sending shock waves of pleasure coursing over my body.
With each spastic squeeze of cunt, I spurted. And I was still spurting when the spasma stopped. Her pussy suddenly relaxed and she slid back down my shaft.
"Ohh, fuck me," she whispered, her eyes full of the fever.
The thick goop I'd shot up her flopped out, hanging in ropy strands all over her thighs and my pubes, and the action was real squishy all of a sudden. I lifted her up and down the length of my cock a couple of times as the last squirts of sperm left my prick head.
She dug her nails into her tits, and hissed at me, begging for more.
Her cunt felt so good around my cock, so hat and slick, that I knew I had an all day boner. I took hold of her ass, lifted her up and set her on the desk. And then proceeded to fuck the living hell out of her.
By the time her pussy and my cock finished their squishy-squishy dialogue, the desktop was sticky with our juices and I was sure a relapse was the last thing in the world Marylou had to fear.
I walked to the door marked in gold letters: Del Sokolow, President and Founder. No one made a move to stop me. I pushed the door open and an exceedingly fat man dressed in a white silk suit looked up from his desk at me. His bloated features turned first white with shock, then a mottled purple with anger. He struggled to get his mass up from the plush chair, his right hand sliding to a drawer.
"Hold it right there, you sack of shit," Hidalgo said, stomping into the room. His right hand was in the pocket of his overcoat, and the hand appeared to be holding something long and hard. The something was aimed at Sokolow's bald dome of a forehead.
The fat man put his hand back up on the desk top. "What do you want now?" he said. If beady black eyes could've killed, Hidalgo would've been deader than last night's polio asado.
"I just wanted to tell you in person that your little hot wire job didn't work," Hidalgo said, his pencil mustache hidden under the sneering curl of his upper lip.
" "You..." Del "Wondaslick" Sokolow said to be. "What are you, a new hardman for this sleaze ball?" He didn't wait for an answer. "What's he jabbering about?"
Hidalgo answered for me: "You tried to kill me, you bloated bag of guts!! ! "
The fat man smiled, raising the heavy folds and drapes of flesh around his slit of a mouth. Again he addressed me, as if Mr. Cosimo Hidalgo didn't exist. "Hardman, tell the Spic it wasn't me and that I'm very sorry he wasn't iced." The smile disappeared into the blubber. "Next time it will be me!" he said, pounding on his desktop for emphasis.
"Senate Bill 3405 passed, hardman," Sokolow hissed. "Do you know what that means? It means the Spic, here, has ruined me. It means the flunky scientists he hired convinced the state legislature that aerosol sprays are going to wreck the environment. It means that his million-dollar anti-aerosol ad campaign pulled the wool over the voter's eyes. Goddamit, it means I'm going to have to EAT a twenty-million dollar inventory of aerosol propelled vegetable shortening!! ! ! "
"It's every person's duty to protect the environment," Hidalgo snickered.
" ... And if that wasn't enough, this insect sabotaged an entire month's output of my Newark plant. Contaminated foodstuff! F.D.A. inquiry board! Fifty-seven civil law suits! Nader's Raiders!" the fat man gibbered, great blotches of purple breaking out on his elephantine hide.
"Don't blame me for the filth you pass off as shortening," Hildalgo said. "It was just a matter of time before the F.D.A. caught up with you."
"Listen to the smug sonfoabitch!" Sokolow said. "Hardman, this criminal gives out free gifts in every teaspoon of olive grease ... pubic hairs! I've seen the Health Department reports."
"I should hope so," Hidalgo said. "Since your boy Rodney helped your boys over in the Health Department write them!" Cosimo rocked back on his heels, Little Caesar style. "Speaking of that dear boy Rodney ... he's doing a wonderful job for us..."
"Huh?" Sokolow said.
"That's right, fatso. How do you think I got the inside dope I needed to put your pitiful company to sleep?"
"You're crazy," Sokolow said, trying to shake off the accusation, but obviously visibly disturbed by it. "Why half your precious, devoted staff is on the Wondaslick payroll."
"And they're done a wonderful job for you, haven't they, Mr. Wondaslick?" Hidalgo sneered. "Let's go, Mr. Grue, before the slob starts to cry."
The two of us backed out of the office, past the silent ranks of secretaries, filing clerks, accountants. Once in the elevator, Hidalgo let the long, hard something slip back down in his pocket.
"Are you really carrying a gun?" I asked.
Hidalgo grinned. "Thanks for reminding me, Grue. Since I'm paying you for protection, you should be the one doing the protecting." His hand came out of the coat pocket. In it was held a massive Colt revolver, Python series, .44 magnum caliber. "Take it," he said.
I didn't want it. When you carry a piece, there's always the chance you will use it. I didn't want it to do. I began to wonder if the money was worth it. He must've caught my hesitation because the next thing I knew he was slapping a wad of fifties in my hand. For the moment at least, it was worth it.
"Tonight," Hidalgo said, "we're going to celebrate my narrow escape from death."
The party turned out to be a small one. There were just four of us: Cosimo, Marylou, me, and the Python. The celebration took place at the exclusive, members only, Coral Reef Club on Van Ness. Marylou was wearing a dainty little frock dress that made her look fifteen years old. Cosimo, as usual, looked like a million bucks in a tailored pin stripe suit and white spats. He cultivated the gangster look, and from the chatter I'd heard in Sokolow's office, it was entirely apropos.
The Coral Reef was a strange place. Each patron had his own personal box, like at a ballet or an opera, with a perfect view of the gilded, velvet draped stage. I'd heard stories about the type of entertainment that was featured here, but I never believed them. Seeing is believing.
There were no waiters visible. Cosimo ordered the refreshments through a microphone and they arrived via dumbwaiter. The idea was to insure the patron's privacy.
"It's 'the Chocolate Sandwich' tonight," Hidalgo announced gleefully as he passed around the drinks. I sat on his left while Marylou sat on his right. His boisterous good humor was a hitherto unexposed facet of character, and he reminded me of nothing so much as an ingenuous teenage psychopath at his first public hanging.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." said an amplified voice as a large red spotlight illuminated the stage. ". . . 'The Chocolate Sandwich'! ! ! "
The curtains parted and I found myself moving to the edge of my seat.
"Mr. Hidalgo, this isn't real," Marylou exclaimed.
Hidalgo made "Ha-ha-heh-heh" noises and slid a hand up under her dress.
On the small, semi-circular stage there stood three figures. Two of them were black men, very black, black men, stereotypes with big lips and teeth and feet and wild hair ... and they were dressed like cannibals, nearly naked but for face paint. The third person was a white woman. She was wearing a pith helmet, a black missionary blouse with round white collar, khaki skirt and boots. Her figure beneath the clerical garb was downright opulent, the tits high mountains against black blouse, her waist slender, and legs long and aristocratic. She was tied to a tall post beside a huge kettle of simmering water. She appeared to have fainted, as her head was dropped to her chest, the helmet hiding her features.
The cannibals were involved in a heated discussion, presumably over how to prepare their guest. The taller of the pair, a fellow with amazingly well-developed muscles, thumped his broad chest and said, "Oogah! Oogah! Hoo-da-laga!"
The smaller cannibal responded to Oogah's pronouncement by thumping his heavily muscled chest and saying, "Boogah! Boogah! Hoo-da-laga!"
The two cannibals sprang at each other, ready to fight to the death for their recipe, but stopped suddenly when the missionary groaned and raised her head. She was ash blonde, a really foxy chick with a regal kind of face, high cheekbones, wide mouth. She took ons look at the cannibals and screamed. The sound stood my hairs on end.
"Please, let me go," she pleaded, writhing against her bons. "In the name of God, have mercy on me!"
The cannibals grinned and approached her. Oogah took hold of the hem of her long skirt, lifted it to his wide nostrils and sniffed. The missionary looked like she was going to be sick. She twisted her head away, so as not to view the revolting spectacle; her lips moved rapidly in silent pies to a greater power.
Oogah, not content with mere sniffing, began stuffing the perfumed fabric up his nose, and in so doing he raised her skirts even higher. High enough for Bodgah to get a glimpse of slim white ankles and calves. The short savage fell to his knees before the tightly bound woman and took hold of her boots. Grunting and mumbling in his heathen tongue, he massaged the leather, working slowly up towards her shoetops.
Oogah, realizing that he was missing something, dropped her skirt and fell on her left boot, knocking Boogah's hands away. Not content with mere manual manipulation of the boot leather, Oogah thrust his thick lips and long, red tongue to the task, polishing the toe and leather laces, the metal eyelets, slurping at the shoe's tongue. Boogah, copycat that he was, began emulating Oogah. Both of them kneeling, sucking at the distraught woman's boots.
"Ummmmmm!" Oogah exclaimed as his tongue lapped at the silky skin of her shins. He sat back on his haunches and slid his black hand up and down the back of her leg.
The missionary looked down at the grinning savage with terror in her eyes. Her leg trembled under his touch. "Not that ... DEAR GOD! ... Not that!! ! " she prayed.
Oogah leaned forward, took hold of her hem once more, and ripped her dress open from shoetop to waist in one powerful jerk.
"Ahhhh! Ummmmmm!" Boogah crooned, pausing in his deep shoe rapture to admire the creamy white perfection of his captive's legs and thighs.
She was exquisite. Hips lyre shaped, thighs slender, mound a fat hummock under white Nancy Drew panties.
She recoiled as two negroid tongues lashed her shins, as strong black fingers clasped her thighs. Once more she turned her blue eyes towards hewvzm. begging for help.
"Umph! Sssleerp!" the cannibals slobbered as they drooled their way up over her knees, as they salivated over her thighs. Black fingers slid up over her white panties.
"GOD!" she beseeched.
Then the savages' faces were at her crotch level. The intense licking stopped. Oogah looked at Boogah. Boogah locked at Oogah. Oogah thrust his face right into the fat mound of her cunt and sniffed deeply.
"NOOOOOOOOO!" the missionary wailed, trying to close her thighs. It was futile. '
Oogah pulled back, his eyes closed, nostrils flared, savoring the heady fragrance he had just inhaled. Boogah squirmed in and took his place, snorting wide nostrils over the plump pussy hump. "Ummmmmm!" he exhaled, mashing his face into the white cotton, reaching behind to grab her ass-cheeks and drag his face down harder.
The missionary hopped up and down, shaking her head violently, making her bit tits jiggle.
Boogah's hands began rolling the large, old fashioned pair of panties down over her hips. Oogah stood watching the tits bound for a second, then took one in his big hand. He mashed it against her chest, kneading it passionately, his tongue lolling from his mouth.
"MONEY! I'll give you money! beads! mirrors! god, anything! just leave me alone!! ! ! " the missionary shrieked, as black hands rolled her pan-teis off her cunt and made her nipple stiffen from rough treatment.
Boogah drew back to admire his handiwork. Her cunt was a pink hummock split by a pair of very fat lips. The lips were surrounded by a sparse cowlick of honey colored hair. Boogah put his broad nose to the fuzz and sniffed deeply.
"HEEEEEELLLLLLPPPPPP!! " the missionary screamed, as broad nose rooted about, spreading her folds, snorting into her clit.
Oogah, still groping her tit, leaned over to watch. The front of his loincloth was pushed way out of shape. To relieve the pressure, the cannibal untied the front and his cock flipped out, hard and cozing. It was an immence prick, a deep chocolate hue, with a head on it like a Hershey's Kiss. It had a greasy patina to it; the shaft and gross nut bag glistened under the stage lights.
The missionary took one look at the cannibal's machinery and began weeping. It was obvious what the demented savages were about to do to her. "GOD ... I BEG YOU!! ! !STRIKE ME DEAD BEFORE THEY VIOLATE ME!! ! " she wailed.
Then she stiffened as if plunged into the boiling kettle. Boogah had replaced his nose with his tongue. First tasting tentatively with the red hot tip, he touched her right on the clit. The funky fumes and tangy savor was to his liking so he explored further, slipping tongue tip between her velvety sex lips, lashing back and forth, spreading them. Lower he worked, pulling her ass towards him with his hands, shoving his face far in between her slick thighs. The hot slot deepened under his mouth; the nectar became foxier and more copious. The tip of his tongue strove further and the steamy maw deepened even more, turning tightly inward, a round slippery hole. Snorting like a wild beast, he speared the hole with his tongue, mauling her firm ass greedily.
"OHHH, GOD! OHHH, GOD!! " she moaned, shaking her head with fright and something altogether different.
Oogah took hold of his cock and began flipping it through his fist. The ridiculously large helmet flattened like a snake head as it passed through the tight grip. Oogah bent his knees, getting into the swing of things, rotating his large, round and very highly positioned ass ecstatically.
It was a show intended for the missionary. To show her how wonderfully adept he was in the art of lovemaking. She looked aghast at the lewdly gyrating buttocks, the stiff cock flying through the clenched fist, the rolling eyes and lolling tongue.
"God!! ! Kill me!! ! " she pleaded, never taking her eyes off the oozing chocolate dick head for a second.
Boogah's slurping suddenly ceased, replaced by a fit of coughing and choking! Her tongue-lashed snatch had unloaded a bucket of slick stuff down his throat. He drew back, his face all shiny with cunt goo. Still sputtering, he slid a hand from her ass and shoved a pair of long digits right up her cunt.
"OOOOOOH!" she cried, closing her eyes and baring her teeth.
Boogah churned the fingers about inside her, then pulled them out. They were slimy to the brown knuckle. He held them p to Oogah's nose. Oogah sniffed deeply, his eyes popped open wider and his hand became a blur about his cock.
"Na-ga hoc-da-laga!" letting go of his pud, which immediately began bobbing up and down in excitement. "POO-SHEE ... POO-shee!"
"Ummmmmm!" Oogah agreed, letting go of his pud, which immediately began bobbing up and down in excitement. "POO-SHEE ... POO-SHEET!! ! "
"Oh . . olideargod!! ! " the missionary bawled as she was roughly dragged from the post. Her hands were tightly bound behind her back. The savages forced her to kneel on the ground before them.
Oogah fell to his knees behind her, throwing her town skirt up over her back, exposing her found white ass-cheeks. The cannibal dove into the silky whiteness, holding her by the hips, thrusting the broad blade of his tongue into her crevice. Rasping ass-hole and pussy alike in long, hungry strokes.
The missionary groaned and her upper body fell to the floor. Her face touched the stage, but her ass was held high in the air. High and accessible to the black man's searching tongue. Her prayers for deliverance, although muffled somewhat by the floor, took on a new urgency. "JEEEE-"JEEEE-ZZZZZZZZZZU she yelped, as black fingers spread her buttocks, as black head bobbed rhythmically, sliding long tongue into her slippery cunt.
But Boogah would not be left out. In a quick movement, he undid the front of his loincloth. His cock did not flip out, a sexual switchblade. It was a limp black noodle. His balls hung halfway down his thighs in their mocha sack. He reached down and took hold of the missionary's head, and jerked it up to a level with his flaccid cock.
She took one peek at his prick and screamed. Boogah, seeing a perfect opportunity for ingress in her wide open, screaming mouth, moved forward, stuffing his soft cock between her lips.
"UHHHNGH!! " she grunted at the first, rank and salty taste. Her face twisted up in a terrible grimace as the tart flavor of man meat hit her tongue.
If the taste of black prick did nothing for her appetite, the feel of white mouth did something for Boogah's cock. Almost instantly, it began to swell. It grew and grew between her lips, surging down her throat, filling her cheeks to the point of pain. And as it grew, her eyes opened wide in shock, not just from the effect of hard cock strangling her ... something else was happening at the other end.
Oogah, slobber hanging from his face in long streamers, was fitting his cock to her cunt. He entered her in a series of lightning fast hip lunges. And when he was into her to the hair, his ass had broken out in a sweat.
The cannibals had her spitted at both ends, like a roast chicken. At first they worked against each other; each one greedy for the feel of her hot tube about his sex. Then, amid much cannibal mumbo jumbo, they got themselves together. Oogah holding her hips, Boogah holding her armpits, they pushed and pulled her body back and forth between them, asses flying, pumping black cock into mouth and cunt in unison. They used her brutally, without concern for her safety or pleasure, and she loved it.
Black butts drilled long cocks to her in a frantic flurry of humping. She gobbled hot prick and took the cunt splitting dick thrusts eagerly. The way she moaned and whimpered, the "fate-worse-than-death" wasn't half bad.
Ragged breathing right next to me broke the uplifting spell. Hildago had dragged Marylou by the pony tail to her knees in front of him. And using the ponytail like a handgrip, he was forcing her pouty mouth up and down the shiny brown shaft of his hard cock, making her take every inch of him. From the locok on her face, it was not a pleasurable experience.
I looked at Hidalgo. His lips drawn back from his teeth, sweat forming on his greasy forehead, bug eyes held tightly shut at the searing nut joy her tight lips afforded his cock. His breathing became a bubbling, liquid thing and his hand yanked her hair harder, making her lips move faster, and faster.
She winced from the pain, her eyes snapping to mine, begging me.
The rage hit me full-blown and deadly. My hand dropped to the butt of the Python and I drew it from the holster, cocking back the hammer.
Too late!
"AHHHHHH!" Hidalgo groaned.
Marylou's eyes clamped shut and her Adam's apple began bobbing furiously to keep up with the torrent of sperm spurting into her mouth.
Below on the stage, the cannibals were orgasming into the now-receptive receptacle that was the missionary. I watched the squirming trio without the keen excitement I'd felt earlier. There was a metallic taste in my mouth. I could hear Hidalgo wheezing, teasing the last flurries of pleasure from his nuts.
After the show, Hidalgo did almost all the talking. Marylou didn't utter a word. She was quiet even as we stepped out on the sidewalk and I leaned down to open the limousine's door. She was quiet, looking blankly up the street, a zombie. Then her eyes widened, first in surprise, then terror. Still she said nothing.
I whirled away from the car door, turning into the face of whatever it was, my hand dropping to the Python.
"Kill him!! ! " Hidalgo whined, jumping around Marylou and away from the man charging down the sidewalk with an ax held high over head.
"YAAAAAA!" Rodney Gervis yelled, his eyes wild with the need to murder.
For a second, just a split second, I almost let the pervert slip past me. I wanted to. I really did. But reflex took over and I brought the screaming man down hard on the pavement, making sure his head made solid contact. I shoved the Python in his face and kicked away the ax.
"YOU BASTARD, HIDALGO!! " Rodney yelled, on the verge of hysterics. "Your stupid joke got me FIRED!! ! I'm going to KILL YOU!! ! "
"No, Rodney," I said, rasping the heavy ramp sight under his nose. "You're not going to do anything of the kind."
Hidalgo leaned down and snarled at the prostrate man, "Tell your riding buddy, Cena, that she's the one who's getting the ax ... I'm divorcing her!! ! ! "
I looked over at Marylou, standing silently by the car. She was glaring at the short man in the expensive coat.