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| Girls' Nightmare Out | Back to N | Back to main page |
Collected by Djian
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Girls' Nightmare Out
Rogue Alan
11/0-9/02, revision 2/03
(tattoo/piercing; cheat; stranger; interracial; gang bang; exhibitionism; anal;
prostitution; bondage; lesbianism; mind control; rape)
Part 16
Sundays usually served as at least a partial respite for the women. They could
enjoy church, and time with friends and family without fear that Tom would
need them for a 'job'. Neither woman looked particularly relaxed, as they met
in the fellowship hall before Sunday school. They agreed that they desperately
needed to talk to one another, and were just as certain that they wouldn't
have sufficient time before the end of the weekend, their 'time together' was
already often a point of contention with both husbands.
They briefly discussed eating together as families, but dismissed it out of
hand, as Fred was jealous of Jeff's success and ease with people, and never
failed to make snide remarks, that the other man seemed unable to ignore. The
women agreed that they'd have to eat together the next week, the sooner the
better.
"Are you OK?" Kathy asked, as she was worried about the circles beneath her
friend's eyes, and couldn't miss the hint of alcohol on her breath.
"Yeah." Melissa paused, taking a calming breath. "I just had a hellish night
last night. We bumped into not 1 but 2..." she looked about the milling throng
of people, "former clients."
Kathy felt her mouth fall open in surprise. "You're kidding."
"I wish."
"No wonder that you're hitting it early. I'd have climbed into a bottle, and
not come out again."
Melissa's eyes flashed angrily, but she nodded a moment later.
"Yeah. I need to watch it." Kathy patted her friend's shoulder reassuringly.
"We can get through this. Just lean on me love."
The petite blonde glanced up at her friend, biting her lower lip unconsciously.
"God, I need to be with you for awhile. Last night... it was hard being with
Jeff, without his knowing... and wanting it to feel different, but..." she
wiped at a tear that threatened to fall.
"Shhh... I know, hon'. Believe me. I keep finding myself flashing on... the
pleasant times. It scares me that I'd rather be there sometimes than with him.
But maybe that's how we are adjusting to get through it."
"Maybe," Melissa sniffed, not sounding convinced. "but I told myself that I'd
keep it separate. If I can't even do that, what hope is there I'll be able to
do this without Jeff finding out?" She then set about touching up her mascara
and make-up with her compact, resisting the urge to take a hit from the small
'water' bottle in her purse.
"We'll make it." Kathy soothed, ashamed that part of her was anxious to do
more work for Tom, but unable to keep from feeling that way.
The milling, smiling crowd was thinning out, as people headed into the
sanctuary, and as usual, Melissa and Kathy sat together about six rows from
the front, on the pulpit side, their families beside them. The imposing wooden
lectern partially hid the day's 'guest speaker', who was introduced as a
'deacon from their sister church downtown'.
When the pastor had completed the call to worship, he stepped out to the
center, away from the pulpit, shuffling his pages nervously, before he glanced
out at the congregation. He cleared his throat, then launched into a halting
introduction, that the visitor cut short by stepping to the pulpit, and waving
his arms theatrically.
"Friends!" he said, his booming voice brought both women's head up. The man's
dark ebony skin glistened in the lights, emphasized by the cream colored linen
three-piece suit that he wore. He calmly grasped the microphone, pulling it
free of the stand on the pulpit, then vacated the lectern, moving to the center
of the raised dias, beside the gaping pastor, his attention fixed on the
suddenly attentive assemblage.
"I have come today!" his cadence was the stereotypical Southern Baptist
preacher's, fiery and loud enough to forgo the microphone entirely. "I am here
to spread a message." His eyes, his whole body, shifted from side to side,
addressing each of the church's three tiers of seats, as if individually. "A
message not of love, but of danger! A danger that rests among you, and
unchecked, will tear your families apart from within!"
He strode back and forth, waving his free hand for emphasis. "I have heard it
is too late for my people. And I shouted NO! It wasn't so. But I will tell you,
that it wasn't easy. No, staying true to the Lord's word seldom is. So I vowed,
Never would I let this happen to another of God's families, my family by
extension."
His eyes roamed the congregation as he paused. "You wonder what it is. Drugs?
The Devil's candy. No, that is an evil each of us must face, my friends. But
it pales in comparison to this. Violence? God's faithful recognize the
potential to do good in the face of that, my brothers. So I do not come to
warn you of that. Hatred? The Lord cries to see his church, wherever it is,
used as a tool to spread the Devil's word. But that is not why I'm here."
He paused again, and in the moment before he began to speak, his eyes flashing
from parishioner to parishioner, Melissa stiffened, aware of why the man
seemed so familiar. She could almost feel the heat of his skin, as he thrust
against her, cursing and demeaning her, taunting her for her 'filthy lust' and
for 'betraying her oaths'. He'd been with both women, and Kathy's stiff
posture was sign enough that she'd recognized him too. The women sat there
mesmerized, as he licked his lips before continuing. For a horrible moment,
Melissa was sure that he was looking right at her.
"I am saying, my friends, we must recognize the demon in our midst. The petite
blonde slut, the whore of Satan!"
Melissa choked back a moan or scream, unable to believe that she was about to
be exposed in front of the entire church. She felt Kathy's hand touch her
thigh, whether to support her or restrain her, she'd never know. She'd lost
track of what the Deacon was saying, and glanced around, sure that she'd see
every eye on her. Instead, the other members of the congregation remained
totally focused on the dervish of a preacher, who was striding back and forth
before them. To her amazement, several of the parishioners were smiling, and
nodding in agreement.
"... sort of thing you expect to hear, when you see me?" The man's tone had
changed completely. He'd moved back behind the pulpit, gently replacing the
microphone in its cradle, and had his hands braced at the sides, leaning
forward like any pastor that Melissa could remember, except that he'd been
hunched over her only a few days ago, thrusting into her, with lewd delight at
'despoiling' a married, WHITE woman. She shuddered, as she listened to his
message.
"I can't claim that much energy, or I'm too shy to go on like that anymore
than you just saw. But that's not necessary to get the point across. When you
see the flyer for our joint church picnic at the end of the month, I want you
to think about how we're communicating now, versus how you thought we would be
interacting when I began. Now, don't think that I'm saying anything is
wrong about your reaction to my little act," he smiled. "but I am saying that
maybe, what we need to regain, or to develop for the first time, is a sense of
community. To learn about all of our brothers, in the eyes of the Lord. See
what we have in common. I hope to see each and everyone of you there and I
thank you for allowing me to speak to you today."
He smiled again, and then stepped back, as the pastor reclaimed his position
at the pulpit, thanking the Deacon for his help, and reiterating the importance
of the joint social, which would be held in the large park near the Plaza.
The rest of the service was a blur. Melissa was shaking visibly, as they left
the sanctuary. Jeff put an arm around her, asking if she was all right. She
nodded, praying that they wouldn't meet the deacon in the narthex. Kathy took
the initiative, grasping her friend's arm, suggesting that she take Melissa
home, and put her to bed, since she looked like she was catching the flu. She
urged Jeff and the boys to go out to lunch and maybe a movie.
The boys responded eagerly, and Jeff nodded, thanking Kathy for her help,
before offering his wife a quick kiss on the cheek. Evading Fred proved almost
as easy, Kathy needed only to suggest that he come along, that he could watch
the game on the Sureham's television. Fred begged off, grumbling unintelligibly
about the crazy satellite system that Jeff had installed some time ago. He
trudged up the walk to the house, and used the keypad entry into the garage
when Kathy pulled up at their home. He had barely waved a good-bye, which
Kathy never saw, having already begun to check the mirror, prior to pulling
back out into the street. She rested a hand on her friend's thigh, meaning to
lend the smaller woman strength, though the touch was kindling in each of them
a need for more.
The deacon, who'd prompted Melissa's near panic attack, was no more relaxed at
that moment. He'd fled the dais as quickly as the opportunity arose, during
the pastor's prayer. Deacon Chauncy Graves hoped his part in the mess he'd
found himself in was done, and wondered, not for the first time, if he'd ever
really be free again. The man who'd handed him the black and white pictures of
him, not only going into the motel room, but having sex with the married white
sluts, had made it perfectly clear, that not only would his wife find out if
he didn't do exactly as he was told, but his boss, friends, and the local
police would soon know of his peculiar, proclivities. 'Not that there's
anything wrong with bedding a woman', Chauncy reminded himself.
At first he'd assumed that the guy was a panhandler, or reporter, out for the
story of his success. But upon seeing the photos, he'd guessed one of the
bitches in the images was responsible, and intended to blackmail him, it wasn't
possible to shoot such a clear picture through an open window, merely by
chance, when that window was on the twelveth floor. But suddenly unable to
dismiss the stranger, who was leaning over his seat in the corner of the deli,
near his luxury condo, which was also near the Plaza, Chauncy had struggled to
remain calm, as he'd stuffed the photos into the envelope, praying that no one
else had seen them, and then trying to push them back to the calm stranger.
"I don't know what you think you're doing with these, but I assure you that I
don't need them. That's not me." he told the stranger.
"Don't bother denying it. I have better images, if you won't help me out. Go
ahead, and keep these. Consider them as a souvenir." the man had smiled
mirthfully at his own joke, as he sat down. "They are quite beautiful. And I
have plenty of copies of those. These are for you."
Over a lunch that Chauncy hadn't even tasted, his 'new friend' had calmly
explained their 'arrangement'. He simply wanted an introduction to the man who
'protected' the women that Chauncy had 'been with'. Which Chauncy had assumed
meant the man was competition for Tom, and his 'white housewife whores'
service. Given the seedy way in which he'd been ensnared, the man was no better
than the whores he'd used for his trap. Which also meant that the man could
easily choose to become violent, if Chauncy refused to help. That, along with
the 'business' in question, made doing what the man had asked relatively
simple, Tom was a pimp after all, a Godless man, living literally off of the
backs of helpless women. Not that he hadn't been afraid of what might happen
if Tom learned that he'd been the Judas, but the threat before him had been
much more immediate. And the answer had seemed obvious. He'd immediately agreed
to introduce the man to Tom, saying he'd tell the pimp that the stranger was
'a business friend'. The man had smiled patronizingly, shaking his head in
response. He'd explained that he was quite sure that Tom was careful, and
would check out such claims before agreeing.
Instead, the man had explained that he would be Chauncy's ever-present shadow.
The deacon was to alert him the moment that he noticed either of the women
that he'd been with, or any of the others that he remembered seeing. Over the
following two weeks, Chauncy had seen the man whenever he'd stopped to think
about whether he was alone, and risked looking around. There'd been less than
subtle calls, asking if he was really trying, suggesting that the women
wouldn't be found in the places Chauncy had been visiting.
That had led Chauncy to wander several area malls and shopping centers where
he'd told himself that young housewives must visit. But of course he'd seen no
one who resembled the women who'd been so willing in that hotel room. Or the
string of women he'd 'sampled' before that.
He'd almost convinced himself that the man would let him off for at least
trying, when he was summoned to a meeting in the coffee shop in the building
where he worked. Over a stale Danish, and god awful coffee, Chauncy had opened
yet another envelope. This one held a blowup of one of the photos that he'd
seen before.
"What's this?" he asked in the quiet, but fierce gravel tinged voice, that
Chauncy had heard sometimes upon waking in the morning, the remnants of a
nightmare made real. Chauncy had eyed the man, uncertainly, and then the photo.
"I don't know... a necklace?" The man sighed.
"Yeah, I know it's a necklace, idiot. What is the charm?" Chauncy had shrugged,
and the man calmly withdrew a second envelope, the upper right corner covered
by a variety of stamps.
"Chauncy, Chauncy, Chauncy," he'd sighed, shaking his head. "and I thought
that you'd been trying to help me. I thought that you understood what was at
stake. Maybe you can explain these to your wife instead."
Chauncy had nearly shouted his 'No!', before controlling himself to quieter
answer, "I didn't... Wait, I mean... it was a cross, I think... yeah, a
crucifix."
The man had smiled broadly, no humor evident in his dark eyes, and without a
word, he had stood up and left the coffee shop, and the bill. The next night,
Chauncy had gotten a call from 'brother Aloysius' asking him to make the
presentation that he'd just finished, to a list of the area's suburban churches.
He hadn't remembered his fellow Christian's name from church, but had readily
agreed to the task, relishing the chance to put on his little show. So he'd
been most surprised, when he'd found his 'new friend' waiting for him, as he
left on the first of those church visits that he'd arranged for that Sunday.
He never stopped to consider that it was tied in with the whores, and he was
certain that it would be fruitless, such harlot's wouldn't be found in a church.
He also hadn't been willing to argue with the man. So he'd nearly lost his
wits, when he saw not just one of the women that he'd last 'pleasured', but
both of them, sitting together up front. They looked like any of the dozens of
God, fearing Christian women seated nearby. The thought of such blasphemy
still made his blood boil. And he'd wondered if it was all some sort of sick
test. His shadow was nodding, before Chauncy reached him at the back of the
church, after his hasty exit. Nodding and smiling. He'd waved off any
statements, until both of them were safely outside of the church.
"I saw." he said simply, after they'd reached Chauncy's car. "Now go do the
rest of the churches on the list. There really is a get together, you know,
and then go home. I think that's all we'll need from you for now."
He then turned and stepped beyond the neighboring minivan, out of sight.
Chancy shivered at the chill in the stranger's wake. He considered what the
man had just said, and wondered when, no longer if, he'd be visited next. He
cursed himself for being a fool, and drove out of the lot, insisting that he
wouldn't ever get himself into such trouble again.
Jordan Franks had almost been too wired to do the job, as the congregation
began to spill out of the church. He'd begun snapping away, the moment his
pigeon reacted, knowing he'd found his in. He took a roll of film
surreptitiously, mostly worthless shots of the back of the women's heads, but
at least one would show a profile, he hoped.
He'd slipped out ahead of the deacon, intercepting his dash to escape in the
narthex. It paid to remind Graves that his fate was no longer his to control.
He'd almost missed the women when they left, with one of the hubby's in tow.
Jordan pulled out of a different exit, and then quickly moved in behind them,
following them at a comfortable distance, to learn where they lived. He was
delighted when he found that a single trip had revealed both of their addresses.
His initial thought, that they were going to enjoy a bit of kink with the
hubby, had proven wrong, but the way that the women moved together, left him
wondering about something else equally intimate. He parked down the street,
glad that the neighborhood was busy enough that his vehicle wouldn't stand out,
and moved confidently along the sidewalk, slipping in between the houses as
calmly as if he lived there, while hoping fervently that no one had seen him.
The last thing that a black man needed, was to be found lurking in the backyard
of a white woman. But the potential reward was worth more than the downside of
the risk. He'd come too far, to back down over a little thing like trespassing
or even peeping.
He'd been searching for a way into Tom's little kingdom for more than two years.
First using 'official channels', while meeting anything from grudging
assistance, to open resistance. It was sufficient enough to let him know that
Tom had a heavy hand in the law enforcement community, wherever he was
operating, undoubtedly to protect his enterprise. He'd then tried to muscle
those likely to have been involved in Tom's 'business' with no better success.
But instead of convincing him to give up, the seemingly endless roadblocks,
blinds, and false trails had convinced Jordan that there really was a Tom, and
a widespread prostitution ring. And as friends and colleagues had written him
off, it had become his personal quest.
No, it had started out personal. He'd lost a sister to a pimp who'd wormed his
way into her heart, hooked her on crack, and had knifed her when she tried to
leave. There was no lower form of life, in Jordan's mind, than the men who
preyed on, and profited from, prostitution. More than once the few 'in the
know' about Agent Franks, had suggested that he was chasing a ghost, and that
he should instead roll up the networks that he had proven existed in state
after state, rings of working girls that he was certain that Tom had formed,
before moving on.
But Jordan wasn't interested in busting a few dozen working girls, who'd
be out to continue 'their jobs' within hours of their arrests. He was only
interested in catching the operation's mastermind. Even when it meant ignoring
his superior's orders, and working on his own time. Especially when he had
found a path that was showing promise. Jordan had decided that his best chance
to learn anything more about Tom, was to find an in, through the 'consumer'
side, he intended to become one of Tom's clients.
It could still go wrong, if Graves ever went back to Tom, and warned his
'supplier'. But he had learned long ago, that while few men could give up
philandering, most could easily move to other, safer and newer, suppliers,
when it was necessary. They had options, denied those hooked on drugs. And
operating 'on the fringe' as he was, he had no interest in prosecuting the
cheating Deacon, and so had been free to use a little coercion of his own, to
assure that the man didn't rat him out. He was big enough and rough enough,
that people believed it when he made a threat. So while he was certain that
Chauncy would soon enough return to seeking out 'new', even 'exotic' pussy, he
was equally sure that it wouldn't be with Tom. Just as he had been sure that
the man would've given them both away, if unintentionally, had he asked the
Deacon to 'introduce' him to the pimp. The trick was to 'get himself noticed',
as a potential customer. He intended to be obvious about eyeing the girls,
while they were out working. But he wanted a solid background on the women
first. Agent Franks was nothing, if not thorough.
Luckily for him, the house to which he'd followed the women to, had a high
fence shielding it from neighbors' prying eyes, and was old enough, that the
foliage had grown high, hiding large portions of the back of the two story
home. He was careful to be make certain that there wasn't a big dog out back,
before moving along the fence, eyeing the windows, and trying to locate the
women within. He climbed onto the trellised deck, opposite the steps, peering
cautiously into the kitchen. No one was visible. He heard water moving through
the pipes though, and returning to the ground, he circled the deck, moving
across the back of the house.
The ground sloped up at one end of the house in back, and there was a window
into the second story, which was actually at ground level there. He realized
almost too late, that it looked into the master bedroom. The women were inside,
and at the scene before him, he froze, fully silhouetted in the window, for
several seconds. He was aware of the shifting, swelling sensation between his
legs, as he crouched, moving between an overgrown hibiscus and the siding to
conceal himself.
The women were locked in a passionate embrace, each eagerly working at removing
the other's clothing. Though he'd considered the possibility of some kinky
sexual encounter occurring, the man's departure had left him expecting
something else, drugs. The scene unfolding before him though, was tacit
corroboration of Chauncy's claim. Unlimbering the camera that he had kept
tucked beneath his jacket, Jordan began to snap pictures away, as the women
continued, unaware of their observer. His mouth was incredibly dry, and he
mused to himself that there were perks to the job, after all.
Melissa groaned softly, as her friend's fingers traced a deliciously teasing
path from her left nipple, around her navel, to flick at the ring in her pussy.
Already aroused at the prospect of sharing a few private moments with her
lover, the first touch triggered a flood from her well-lubricated cunt. A
moment later, the taller woman's fingers were dipping in and out, her thumb
pressed gently, but firmly, over the inflamed blonde's swollen clit. She came
quickly and loudly, then redoubled her efforts to get Kathy out of her dress.
The brunette just smiled, kissing the other woman with a casual intimacy that
was obvious to the agent. Her mouth trailed down the petite blonde's body to
her rigid nipples, and within a moment, a second climax had visibly shivered
through her supine form. The windows in the home were old, single glazed,
allowing him to hear the sounds of the women's lovemaking. He wondered if the
neighbors heard them, when they entertained other men, then wondered if either
woman would be so foolish as to do that in their own home. He doubted it, Tom
had never been so careless, and despite expectations to the contrary, no
'free-lancing' had ever been identified from any of his women. The hope of
trapping a prostitute in that manner, and getting her to roll over on Tom had
quickly proven futile, because of that unusual dedication. It was just one of
the riddles that he hoped to solve.
The brunette resisted her lover's efforts to return her caresses, smiling and
telling the blonde that she 'owed' her for 'being there' in the last few weeks.
Getting up, she added that she had a surprise, and headed towards the walk-in
closet, opposite the door from the hall. Jordan couldn't see into the closet,
and sat there patiently, remembering the self-assurance with which the woman
had moved, uncaring that she was naked with another woman in the room. Her
apparent ease with her own sexuality, was further proof that she had more
experience than the average housewife that he had encountered. When she emerged
moments later, He was convinced that he had at last identified an 'active'
pair of Tom's 'Slut Wives'.
She had stripped completely naked, except for her high heels, donning a three
inch wide black plastic belt, from which jutted an impressive glossy black
rubber dildo. The blonde had been waiting blissfully in the bed, her eyes
closed, and at a word from the other woman, she looked up. Surprise registered
in her eyes, a first time with this toy, he guessed, but was immediately
suffused by need. He realized that he had missed whatever the brunette had
said, as the blonde bit her lower lip and nodded, raising her knees and
opening her thighs in response.
"I thought that you might like a little more masculine attention." Kathy
husked, as she stepped out of the closet, her own excitement rising as the
textured base of the strap-on dildo rubbed at her own cunt. Mel looked gorgeous
lying more than half naked on top of the covers, her skin dappled with goose
flesh, and a contented smile on her lips. She had almost mentioned to Melissa
she'd picked up the toy, on a quick stop on the way to their 'appointment' the
week before, hoping to spend some time together, and was glad as she approached
the bed, that she hadn't.
"Let's see if this can really get you off." she said, pausing dramatically a
few feet from the bed. Her need to please her lover was so unlike anything
she'd ever known with Fred, that it made it almost impossible to wait for
Melissa's languid response. She opened her eyes, as her head lifted, her gaze
dropping quickly to the latex monster jutting from Kathy's crotch.
"Do you want me to give you this baby?" Kathy cooed, already sure of the
answer, the way Melissa had already responded.
Mel nodded slightly, spreading her legs even more, inviting her lover in.
Moving carefully but quickly, Kathy knelt between the smaller woman's legs, a
finger and a thumb guiding the cock into Melissa's gold, fringed seam. As she
pushed into that treasure, the resistance was transmitted to her own aching
clit, and both women moaned in unison.
Melissa's pelvis hunched upward, hungry for more of Kathy's 'cock'. They found
a natural rhythm within moments, alternating between long slow strokes, and
short rotating thrusts. The tempo quickly built, until it was an endless
pressure against Kathy's clit, her lover's body undulating endlessly in
pleasure. She realized then, how men could be so into sex, the power that she
felt in her limited control over their pleasure, was almost as much of a rush
as her impending climax.
As she drove fully into her lover's pussy for a final time, her body spasmed
with it's release, and at the same moment, Melissa's fingers dug into the
comforter, her throat choking off a scream of delight. Dipping her head,
Kathy's lips found Melissa's, and they cried out into one another as they came,
for what seemed like a long time, but was less than two minutes. Only when her
lover had gone completely limp, did Kathy ease the strap-on out, to roll onto
her side next to Melissa. Smiling contentedly, the blonde reached down, teasing
the phallus, as if it were real, collecting a thick string of her own honey
and lifting it to her mouth, before kissing Kathy again.
He realized that he'd be doomed if he were discovered, he was too hard to have
a chance at running away. Only the thought that he wasn't a common peeper had
kept him from unzipping and wanking at the image of the two beautiful women
fucking each other. His film was gone long before they had climaxed together,
but he had waited, unable to leave. And he knew it wasn't out of a need to
gather additional intelligence, or a concern that they might see him.
Something about the way the blonde gave herself totally to her lover's touch
resonated within him. Cursing himself for even thinking about getting
emotionally involved, he ducked under the windowsill, ready to move back to
the gate to leave the way that he had come.
"It almost makes up for what we've gotten ourselves into, doesn't it?" Kathy
said.
He froze, glad for another reason that he had stayed. He was fairly sure that
it was the brunette who'd spoken. He chanced a peek from the uncovered corner
of the window, to see that she had gotten up, and was removing the appliance,
and it's retaining belt. She was much closer to the window than she'd been
before, but was facing away from it, thankfully.
He noticed as she bent over to step out of the assembly, the shine of a ring
in her own sex, which was further proof that the women weren't simply bisexual
housewives, he was sure from the limited material that he had accumulated,
that Tom marked all of 'his' women in a similar way. The blonde had apparently
answered, sub-vocally, as the brunette shrugged, while heading back across the
room to the bathroom door.
"I know... sick joke. I ask myself if we'd have ever started this, if we hadn't
done that. It's the one good thing to come out of it."
Even Jordan thought she sounded distracted, which the blonde pointed out.
"Something wrong Kat?"
"Hmm?... No, I just was thinking..." there was a longer pause, "I guess I was
just wondering when Fred will be back with lunch."
The blonde sat up. "Oh God! I hadn't thought..."
The brunette waved her back. "Lay down. Get some rest. That's part of why
you're here after all. I'll just tell him that I planned to change the sheets,
anyway. Who knows," she offered an unpleasant smile to the mirror, "maybe the
thought of you lying in our bed will arouse my dear old hubby enough that I
can get some satisfaction at home."
Having said that, she breezed into the bathroom. The door remained open though,
and he heard the water go on. He stayed in his place, his 'inter-personal
radar', attuned by thousands of hours interrogating, the reality PC chose to
label it 'debriefing', suspects, said that the brunette had just lied to her
lover, something else was bothering her.
The blonde had prudently covered her naked body with the covers, and rolled
onto her side. He could tell from her breathing, that she was already asleep.
He didn't expect to learn anything else, but realized that he couldn't just
walk away, he was still completely hard. Moving back behind the bushes, he
knelt and unzipped, letting the images of what he'd seen, flash through his
mind, as he began to wank, anxious to get off and be on his way.
Unaware that she had yet again become the subject of unwanted photos, Kathy
stood beneath the steaming water, wondering what had been missing just then.
She'd cum, and it'd been delicious at the moment, but had seemed to fade the
moment that they'd finished. It wasn't like it was with Michael... And as
always, the mere thought of him brought her instantly, achingly to full arousal.
Reaching between her legs, she began to frig herself, wondering what hold he
had on her, whether or not she wanted to break it.
Checking that he hadn't soiled himself, Jordan tucked his spent cock into his
trousers, eyeing the spattering of jism on the siding. He knew it was hidden
by the bushes, and would soon dry up and blow away. He shook his head, still
seeing the women moving together in his mind. They'd been totally into it, no
acting, each giving herself to the other. He'd never seen such raw passion in
almost a decade working the sex trades for Uncle Sugar.
The idea that Tom would whore such talent out, when he could keep it pristine,
putting it up on stage, seemed especially offensive, not in the least because
he was sure that both women were really married. But the fact that the women
were willingly giving it up, would help his conscience, as he was going to
have to bang one or both of them, in order to get close to Tom, and while the
idea of sullying their marriage was repulsive, Jordan was enough of a realist
to admit that he would enjoy it at the same time, and that he'd soon enough be
prostituting them as well, just in a different way.
He moved to the far corner of the yard and waited, listening for any sign that
someone had seen him, or would, if he stepped back out front. He took a
different route back to his car, and hid his smile, at the suspicious glance
he got from the brunette's husband, as he passed. Jordan followed at a
respectable distance, not chancing a look, as he passed the house, although he
was careful to have the black box sitting on the passenger seat on, as he did.
He pulled over in the nearest strip mall, pausing long enough to make notes of
what he had heard, before he drove back to the studio apartment that he had
rented downtown. For the first time in months, he thought that his plan might
just work.
