Chapter 11
Jack moved swiftly through the night Things were going well. He would be at Tilden's home in just another minute. According to the computer, his wife spent all her nights alone. This should be easy. Stopping to check the tape recorder in his bag, he satisfied himself that it would be ready for the job.
Millie Tilden sighed as the heated bath water swished over the tissues of her naked cunt She had showered earlier today, and wasn't really in need of cleansing. But the hot soak felt so good that she just couldn't resist it. Her body craved attention, and maybe bathing would satisfy it.
Brady was hardly home at all any more. It was as if Davis County had suddenly become the national crime center or something. He "worked late" almost every night. And when he got home, he was almost always short with her, and too tired for sex. It was frustrating for a passionate woman like her.
Oh, she didn't mind his screwing on the outside once in a while. She understood that men needed to do that kind of thing. She didn't even mind his double standard or the fact that he told her repeatedly that he'd kill her if he ever caught her messing around. The fact was, until lately, she'd never even thought about having sex with another man.
He'd been neglecting her so badly, though, that she was beginning to find infidelity creeping into her dreams at night and into her daytime fantasies. Sometimes she thought about Robert Redford or Paul Newman. She'd be dressed in frilly night-clothes and be lying on satin sheets while they touched and kissed her all over. She'd spread her legs willingly while they while they played with her pussy and entered her with their handsome pricks. She'd have magnificent fantasy orgasms while her fingers flashed in the swollen gash of her cunt But it just wasn't enough. A woman like her needed a real man once in a while. Masturbation was too temporary. It never really left her satisfied. It couldn't stop the tingling insatiable itch which her pussy always felt-which it felt even now.
Knowing that it was hopeless, she swept her hand over the mound of her pelvis. The hot water was making her more sensitive. The instant her fingers touched the cleft, her whole groin started tingling. She slid down further into the water until it nearly covered her breasts.
She began cupping them with her free hand while she continued fondling her cunt. Her body was becoming warm. Even warmer than the faintly scented bathwater. She could see her nipples hardening to poke out above its steaming surface. She could feel them pucker with longing for touch. For male hands. For any hands.
She tweaked them lightly, feeling slightly guilty for her self-stimulation. It was a childish thing to do, really. Not mature at all. But no one would know. And it didn't really do any harm. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the sudden rush of pleasure.
One of her fingers were deliberately playing with the slit of her vagina while another probed for the little button of her clit. When the tiny penis-like organ began to stir, she sighed. She could feel the leaves of her twat flowering open as her fingers stole inside.
It felt so good. Almost good enough to make her forget that the hunger would return too soon. She plunged her digits into the roiling well of desire which throbbed between her thighs. Her cunt sucked at them, its satin walls closing in to stroke them like an imaginary cock. The water's heat penetrated her opening. She started to fuck herself with her hand.
She was immersed so deeply in the pleasure of her auto-erotic caress that she didn't hear him enter the bathroom. But she felt a sudden chill as cool air followed him through the open door. She opened her eyes and gasped when she saw him. He was a Black man-tall and powerful looking. In one hand he held a suitcase. The other held a gun.
For a moment her heart stopped. Fear clutched at her vitals. Fear of death. Of worse. Then suddenly she was ashamed. Her fingers were still buried in the slit of her pussy. Her hand was still cupped over the swell of her tits. Her eyes closed for a moment and then opened again. Reddening, she turned her face away.
She tried to cover herself with her hands, but realized the impossibility of the task. Finally she let them drop to the water. She couldn't speak. She just looked at him dumbly. He set his suitcase down on the sink, and clicked some kind of a button inside it. Then, still pointing the gun menacingly at her, he undid the buckle of his belt.
Millie trembled. He had come to rape her. And there was no way to stop him. She felt the tub water grow cold as she saw his massive black cock spring into view. Beneath it his balls hung in a dark and furry purse. As he stepped out of his pants, they swung forward and back.
She felt her nipples aching with desire. He was going to fuck her. He was going to put that big brutal dick inside and thrust in and out until he came. And it wouldn't be her fault. Brady could never blame her for it. She wasn't messing around, she was being raped.
"What do you want?" she croaked. Her voice was tense with excitement.
"Don't you know?" he asked in a throaty masculine tone.
"Are you going to shoot me?" she asked, gesturing toward his gun.
"Not if you cooperate," he answered smiling ruthlessly.
"Are ... are you going to rape me?" she asked. Her whole body was trembling. Her skin was covered with goose flesh.
"Get out of the tub," was all he said. He brandished the gun before her.
She stood up slowly, water dripping from her tits and buttocks. "You don't need that gun, you know," she said deliberately. "You saw me masturbating when you came in. I'm so hot I'm going crazy. I'll do anything you want. Just treat me gentle. Just get me off."
The black man smiled more broadly. Picking up his suitcase, he said, "Lead me to the bedroom." He waved the gun at her again, but the menacing sneer was gone from his face. She was no longer afraid. As she walked, she felt his gaze upon her swinging ass.
In the bedroom, she turned and reached for his penis, ignoring the gun which he held. It no longer frightened her. "My," she said. "Your cock is so big. Much bigger than my husband's. He's the sheriff, you know. You're going to be fucking the sheriffs wife. But don't worry. I won't describe you to him. Not accurately that is."
The man's cock throbbed in her hand, and she felt her pussy sizzle with heat. Placing his suitcase on the floor near the bed, he put his gun down beside it. Then he led her to the bed. "What would you like to do to my cock?" he asked her. The question brought a thrill to her womb.
"I'd like to suck it," she said, falling to her knees. "Can I suck it? Can I please?"
"You want to suck my black cock?" he taunted. "Yess," she hissed in answer. "I always wanted to suck a big black cock." Opening her mouth, she closed it around the muscular length of his prick. Her tongue swept over it, making audible slurping noises. The sounds were turning her on even more. She felt liberated. His gun and his felonious intention freed her to do anything she wanted. And it wasn't even cheating.
She moved her head back and forth, gobbling the shiny black length of his dick into her warm receptive throat. Her hands reached up to play with his balls, rolling them from finger to finger as she sucked him off. His chocolate prick tasted manly and powerful. She jabbed her tongue-tip at the slit which bisected its head, lapping the briny dew which was forming there. She let his cock pop from her mouth and extended her tongue. Licking him noisily, she ran its flat blade over his shaft and down towards his scrotum. "Yes," he said. "Suck it baby. Lick my balls."
Crawling between his legs, she cocked her head back to lick the underside of his nut-bag and around to the shadowy pit of his anus. A Black man's asshole. She would taste it. She would kiss it. Lifting herself higher, she pressed her lips to his buttocks, kissing loudly. Then she nibbled her way over the puckered hole of his ass.
"I'm going to lick your asshole," she moaned. She felt his prick twitch to her words.
It felt good to turn a man on again. It excited her. Made her feel like a woman "Mmmmmm," she intoned. "I'm licking it. And it tastes so good." She filled her mouth with the musky smell of him. She ran her tongue up and down over the orifice. She hadn't been this aroused in months.
Stiffly, she inserted her tongue in the opening. It was tight and elastic. But that excited her still more. She drove deeper, pushing it past the rubbery sphincter muscle and tasting of the mysterious spice of his rectum. "Aaaaaahhhh," she sighed. "You taste so sexy."
Her hand was pulling at his penis, jerking him off as she licked his rim. She felt it pulsating and beating, stroking her fingers with its manliness. He bent his knees to spread his asscheeks, and she plunged her tongue in deeper. She was ass-fucking him with it, making him moan.
At last, he pulled away from her. She was disappointed at first, but then she realized why he did it. He was about to cum, and he wanted to hold back. Well, that was all right with her.
"Don't cum yet," she said. "There are lots of nice things I can do to you. My husband doesn't even appreciate them anymore. But I know that you will. I know how you men feel about white cunt. Let me be your white cunt." She backed to the bed.
"All right, white cunt," he said softly. He sounded intelligent. "But I'm going to do things to you for a while. Tell me. What would you like?"
Millie was flabbergasted. Brady hadn't asked her a question like that in years. Her cunt boiled over with excitement. "I'd like you to lick my pussy," she said. "And I'd like you to put your big dick in my ass. I'd like you to fuck me every way that there is. I'd like you to bite my titties and leave marks for Brady to see. I'd like to smear your sperm over my belly and rub it in my hair." Suddenly a wistful gleam came to her eye. "I'd like you to tie me down to the bed and ravish me brutally."
The man seemed to like the idea. His eyes gleamed bright against his darkly handsome skin. He swept a scarf off the top of her dresser and tore it into four strips. Then he moved toward her, reaching out to place his fingertips on her chest. Pushing gently, he shoved her backward onto the mattress.
Millie spread herself out for him, her wrists and ankles pointing to the four corners of the bed. Her breathing deepened as she felt him tying her with the pieces of scarf. It was happening. Really happening. When he was finished tying her, he stood up and looked at her nude body. His cock throbbed as he studied her tits. Bending over her, he rubbed its tip against one of her nipples. She crooned softly.
Although he had come in with a gun, the man was more tender than her own husband ever had been. He was turning her on with the gentle touch of his penis. He was massaging her with his balls. She murmured, "Ooooohhhh, that feels so good. I wish Brady was more like you." The Black man's face lit up with a buddha smile that confused her for a moment. Then the sensation of his caress wiped it from her mind.
He bent to press his mouth to her pussy, kissing it softly with lips that were pursed. "Yess," she sighed. "Lick my pussy. I love it. I love it."
She felt his tongue slide into her, wetting the flanges of her cunt. She felt her hips rising up to him, yearning for still more of his handsome body. She shoved her clitoris at him, whining when his tongue lashed it to erection. "My clit," she sobbed. "My cliiit." She was in sensual heaven. She wanted it never to end.
"Fuck me," she whispered. "Put your cock in my cunt."
"Beg for it," he said. The smile had returned.
"Oh, yess," she moaned willingly. "I'm begging. I'm begging. Ooooohhh please give me your cock. Ooooohhh please put your big black prick in my little white pussy. Take me. Take me."
That seemed to satisfy him. Coming onto the mattress, he hovered over her, his knees straddling her chest. She could feel the wrinkled bag of his scrotum grazing lightly over the tingling skin of her breasts. Her nipples reached up for him. He dragged it over her belly and down across her cunt. Then he lowered himself until his cock nosed at its door. She was becoming impatient. She strained at her bonds, trying to throw herself up at him. But they held her fast.
Slowly, deliberately, he brought himself against her. 'Tell me when it's in you," he whispered in her ear.
"Ooooohhhh, yes," she moaned aloud. "It's in me now. Just the head. Just the tip."
Little by little, he pushed it in further, teasing her with the slow precision of his advance. "Deeper," she entreated. "Deeper. Deeper. Deeper."
He fell forward, driving its whole length into her at once. "Aaaah yessss," she wailed. "It's all the way in now. Your big black cock is all the way inside my cunt. And it feeeeelllls sooooo gooooood." She heaved her hips about, pushing her cunny up at him to grasp his cock's base in its flanges. "Suck my tits. Suck my tits."
He began to lick her nipples at once, as though he had been waiting for her to request it. Each time his tongue glided over one of her nipples, she sobbed in passion. As she laved the sensitive surfaces of her aureoles, her shouts of pleasure grew louder.
He was shouting something. But his words didn't make any sense to her. "I'm fucking her good now sheriff," he was saying. "And now that she's had a man, how's she ever going to go back to you?"
Millie paid no attention. It didn't matter what he said, or what was on his mind. His prick was taking her on a marvelous trip. She wrapped her pussy around it and rode the charger to glory. It was bigger and thicker than Brady's. And he knew how to use it better, too.
She wanted to throw her arms and legs up at him, but the bonds held her tight. "Let me kiss you," she pleaded. When he lowered his head, she pressed her lips to his, holding him in a long lingering labial embrace. Her tongue snaked out to enter his mouth. Her teeth nibbled hungrily at his lips. She felt his thick black penis skewering deep into her belly. She wanted to merge with him completely.
She felt an orgasm building inside her, and she struggled to hold it back. She wanted the fucking to go on forever. Every breath she took was a frantic scream of excitement. The room was filled with the sounds of her insatiable passion. "I'm going to cum," she shouted at last. "Cum with me. Cum in me. Fill my cunt with your gism."
She slammed her ass down against the heaving mattress as her climax began. She felt her body going all out of control. Each thrust of his dick brought a wave of glistening ecstasy rolling across the plain of her twat. She felt her emotion spill over, the joy of sexual fulfillment overflowing her vulva.
"Oh, I'm cumming. I'm cumming," she wailed.
"Don't stop moving. Don't stop fucking me."
His cock started to spray, painting the walls of her cunt with his heated Black-man's semen. She howled like an animal as it started flowing into her. She could feel its sticky heat rolling into her tubes. She could feel its wetness greasing his strokes. It would be inside her forever-arousing her, turning her on when she craved satisfaction.
"Oh, I feel you cumming in me," she told him. "So much. Soooooomuuuuuuuch." She was half out of her mind with sexuality. Her brain spun, her body undulated. She heard chimes ringing in her head. She saw flashes of silvery light zigzagging across the room.
Her orgasm seemed to go on forever. And when it ended, another one began. Even after his cock had gone soft, he continued rocking against her, bringing rush after rush of pleasure to her groin. She gurgled and babbled incoherently until, exhausted, she fell back limp against the mattress.
"Oh my God," she said, "will I see you again? Tell me when I'll see you again."
But the black man was silent. Climbing off her, he picked his clothes up off the floor and got into them. He dropped his gun in his pocket and picked up the leather valise. Taking something out of it, he laid it on the nightstand beside her. She stared into his eyes, wondering what he was doing.
"Where's your lipstick?" he asked her.
"On my dresser," she answered. "But why don't you untie me and we can have some more fun. This time I'll get on top of you and .. ."
"Shut up," he said. Taking a lipstick, from her dresser top, he stood beside her to write something with it on the wall over her bed. Then he turned and started to leave.
"Hey, wait a minute," she called after him. "Aren't you going to untie me?"
He stopped and looked back at her. "No," he said with a smile. "I think I'll let your husband do that." He closed the door behind him.
Twisting against the cloth strips which bound her, she turned to read the words he had scrawled on the wall. The letters were neat. The message was clear. TILDEN-DON'T UNTIE YOUR WIFE UNTIL YOU LISTEN TO THE TAPE ON THE BED STAND" She turned to look at the object which he had left on the night table. It was a miniature tape recorder. She struggled against her bonds, but it was hopeless.