I scooted over to the passenger side and wiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket. I had worn loose jeans with buttons in front and a sturdy belt looped through it. Under my sweater, I wore a tank top under a thick woolen shirt. The car’s air conditioner blasted on maximum.
He slid in and shut the door. “Glad to see me, are you?” He’d noticed me wipe my tears.
I said nothing and looked out my window.
“I’m glad this ain’t your husband’s car, too many fancy controls. This classic is just my speed.” He belted himself in, but when I reached for mine. He slapped my shoulder, “Not yet, you got work to do.”
A panic took me. I fumbled to unlock my door, preferring to flee my own car than be subjected again to the old, black man’s evil desires. I would rush into the motel office. He couldn’t do anything to me in front of the clerk.
Leland simply stabbed his foot on the gas. My old Volvo leaped forward like half a sports car! “You keep this antique in good shape, Colleen.” He called my name as if it were the secret to controlling me. When we hit the speed limit, he let off the gas and drove at the posted 30MPH. “I said you owed me, Colleen. This ride here is one of them favors. But I recall doing two for you. Now take out my dick and use both hands. I want it good and strong before we get to Social Security.
I felt like crying but self-loathing kept tears at bay when my hands reached for his dirty pants and unzipped them. He scooted up in his seat to give me ‘working’ room.
It didn’t take long for his full length and girth to sprout between his belly and the steering wheel. “Thanks, Darlin’.” Leland scanned the road carefully. He spotted a corner strip mall with a driveway in back. Slowing and steering cautiously, he turned into the driveway and parked behind one of the stores.
“Now do the other half of what you owe me.”
The taste of his dick was mild, but hints of his cum and my pussy remained or was that flavor a product of trauma induced imagination? Before putting the fat head in my mouth I remembered my husband’s mouth had suffered Leland’s beast. My self-directed anger found a new outlet, and I gulped down the big dick which had humiliated George.
The old man hadn’t bothered to shower since then. I washed it with plenty of spit. My hands rubbed the drool from my mouth, up and down the part of his black shaft that didn’t fit my oral cavity.
“Say, you’re pretty lively down there.” The black man sounded amused and a little curious. “You getting to like my crowbar, ain’t ya?”
My mouth was too crammed with black dick to tell him how much I hated him and how I hated his fuck stick worse! I almost sucked him faster from rage, but he would have misinterpreted. My motivation was to get him off quickly! I forced myself to slow down. It was the one option I had to deny his question.
“Hnngh. Maybe I’m wrong about that, but you don’t get to slack off, Bitch. Actually, stop for a second and strip everything you got on top. I want a crack at your mommy titties when you suck me proper again.”
When I pulled away from his glistening prick, he unbuckled his seatbelt, to give himself working room.
I didn’t bother with buttons. I stretched my sweater and wool shirt that day, peeling them up and over my head and arms. The halter top was made for that kind of abuse, but unhitching my bra slowed me, partly because the dirty old man pawed at its cups the moment they appeared.
“Damn, I like how they bulge that harness…” He paused briefly to let me pull the straps down my arms. “And I like how they hang naked.” His delight fooled me. Suddenly he gripped my hair and pulled my face back down to his shining prick! “You better give as good as you did when you started, or I’ll pull your nipples off.”
I opened my mouth in time to be impaled by two extra inches than when I first gulped down his black shaft. Its head clogged the back of my throat, and I lurched before I could control the reflex.
“Yeah, choke a little. I like how that feels.” He reminded, but he let go of my hair. His hands returned to my tits and he groped and tweaked them so roughly it felt like he would rip my nipples off or at least rasp them with his fingernails until they bled.
I strived to make him cum way before then, but I couldn’t concentrate on a steady suck rhythm while he was stabbing and twisting my sensitive juggs. Sharp bites made me shudder and pause my oral action. My hands kept stroking and spreading spit. He groaned when my tongue swept across his pee hole.
Taking a cue from his enjoyment of gagging a throat, I alternated between huffing deep breaths and cramming my mouth down on his rigid pole, clenching my throat against his rubbery prick head.
“Are you sure you didn’t whore around before marrying that doofus?”
This time, I let my anger goad me into stabbing my head against his black dick as fast as I could. My hands gripped the dark shaft tighter while rubbing furiously!
“Whoa!” He roared. “That’ll do it, you sucking bitch!” His hands left my tits and grabbed the sides of his bucket seat.
He was on the verge, but I didn’t dare slow down! I dropped my right hand to his ball sack and tugged.
“Holy gods of Earth!” He shouted. My left fingers felt the first rush of cum fire through his big cannon! I pulled my throat free from the black mass clogging it, just in time to gulp down that fiery bolt! I had to suck and swallow even faster to keep up with his repeating shooter. Thick wads rocked my uvula and plastered the back of my gullet. I gulped and gulped his prodigious spend!
“Fuck and suck, Bitch!” Leland’s lap rocked beneath me. “You’re gonna get sweet on big black cock before you know it!”
I felt fingers comb my hair. The last bolts of spunk were followed by a thick stream which took its time to slow and cease. I had managed to drink nearly all of Leland’s ejaculate. My lips were cum coated, but they were only things stained by his climax in the car.
He huffed and puffed, holding my head to his expended pecker but not pressing. “Colleen,” Leland Jones admitted. “I’m gonna need your white ass and lips and tits from time to time. You know that.”
I held still. The spoken truth met my resignation to it, in the pit of my guts.
He didn’t need to hear me acknowledge his assertion. His fingers took me by the hair and lifted my head off of his cum and spit washed prick.
The graying, black man packed his softening cock into his pants and zipped them up. He grasp the buckle at his left shoulder and drew the belt across his thick body.
I picked up my bra.
“Fuck that, Colleen. Throw your tops behind your seat.” He latched his seatbelt with a sharp clack!
“But you’re going to drive again!”
“And your gonna wear your seatbelt proper, this time. It ain’t safe to go without.” Sarcastic sternness masked his amusement.
I never blushed so hard nor cringed so tightly, head bowed to my breastbone. He hummed a desolate, soul standard and drove the remaining distance to a government styled building. The sign read, “Social Security Administration.”
I had to show some resistance when he pulled into the nearly full parking lot. “You’re sixty two?”
“Sixty. My wife was three years older when she passed.”
I wasn’t sorry for him but maybe a little for her.
He parked in the far back of the lot, between two cars with government plates.
Just a minute. Simple math was part of my job. The ages he mentioned, applied to the rules of social security benefits, determined that his wife must have died recently.
It’s not like I was going to enter into a discussion. I just wanted to know when I would be free of the old rapist.
Leland unbuckled his belt and got out of the car, leaving the engine running. “I’ll call you soon.” He strode away humming that haunting tune.
Call me all you like, you old bastard! I felt the return of precious confidence. The moment Leland had hung up, after blackmailing me, I called George and raged at him to cancel his phone’s service.
It took me a minute to put my clothes back on. I hurried in case some mishap with the system forced Leland to leave the building.
Hopping into the driver seat, I looked behind me and steered the car in reverse. I breathed deeply when I was out of the lot and speeding five MPH over the posted limit. Stopping to refuel, I bought a lousy sandwich with hardly any meat, and a hard frozen, chocolate coated ice cream bar. Biting it hurt my teeth.
Peg and Ridley emerged at the hall entrance when I arrived home. They peeked around the corner to judge my mood.
“Homework.” I glared at them, and they retreated.
George returned from work half an hour earlier than usual. “Honey? I cancelled my phone’s service.” It was his gambit to get around my tirade of a phone call.
I stopped in the middle of tying a roast, washed my hands, and headed to the hallway. “Meet me in our bedroom, George.” I spoke formally.
He entered, a few steps behind me, and closed the door, anticipating another rant.
I turned around and began unfastening his clothes. “You are the man I love, and I hope you never think otherwise.”
“Sweetheart!” He gasped and hugged me, my hands smashed between my clothed breasts and his half open shirt.
I became my husband’s whore for the ensuing hour. I sucked and rode him and fingered his asshole until he had cum twice! He had never experienced me as a dominant parter who forced herself on him. We had role played dom and sub games, but it was more pretend than compelling theater.
“Honey, that was incredible.” He panted beside me on our bed. “Should I light a cigarette for you?”
That he could make such a joke, only increased my love for him. The previous day’s nightmare hadn’t fully broken him, or at least he was on the mend.
“Maybe put a candle in the window, when I’m not here to prove that I’ll never leave you.” When you speak from the heart, you are most likely to sound utterly idiotic.
“Colleen, what do you mean?”
“I mean, George, that there’ll be times ahead when I have no choice but to be far away from home. I’m not going to spell it out. I already hate myself for admitting it, but you have a right to know that I’m going to be unfaithful, which cannot be forgiven even when it’s against my will.
“I guessed after hearing from you, that he had called you. He’s blackmailing you.”
“Not in a way that can be prosecuted.”
“Do you want to charge him?” He hoped aloud.
“I want him to rot in a bare-walled cell, gang-banged by prison gangs.”
“But you won’t.”
“I can’t, My Love. The process would destroy me.”
He fell silent, respecting my voice of utter certainty. Perhaps he realized how harsh the criminal system is on plaintiffs. Accusers don’t have a bill of rights protecting them from persecution. It’s one of the reasons women rarely charged their rapists before the modern era. Too many still don’t.
“I have no idea how to cope with that.” He nearly wept.
A young hand rapped on our door. “Mom, can I make a sandwich?” Ridley asked.
“Tell Peg to wrap up the roast and put it in the fridge. I’ll come out in a bit, and fix something better and quicker.” We kept emergency, organic frozen dinners in our freezer.
I held my husband’s hand and looked into his eyes. “Events have given me a split personality. Think of it that way. One side of me will hurt you badly. The other will do her utmost to soothe your suffering. If you can love me enough to withstand the hurting, I will do my best to break free of our tormentor.
“I will try.” Wet eyes and bit lip assured his promise.
Rising from the bed, and holding back my tears, I put on my houserobe and left my husband, to feed our kids.
In the days that followed, I was haunted, expecting Leland to jump out from bushes and garbage trucks! He knew our address, but my husband’s phone could no longer track mine. Nor could it call me.
Before a week had passed, Leland called my phone from an unidentified number. My phone shunted the unrecognized call to voicemail. I didn’t know it was him until his unexpectedly reasonable voice spoke in my ear.
“You’re officially a whore, today. I had to spend a lot to get a new service for this phone. Pick me up in downtown.” He rattled off an intersection that was actually at the edge of downtown. “Tomorrow at seven, or I’ll see you the next day, much earlier. We’re gonna fuck and talk. Wear something a whore would wear.”
The threat was clear. If I didn’t meet him, he would come to my family’s home!
At breakfast the next day, after shooing Peg and Ridley out to school, I told George. “I’m going out tonight. Don’t come home early. I don’t want to see you before I leave.”
He stopped eating, and his throat clenched. “I-I see.” His posture slowly slumped while he stared at his plate, unable to make eye contact.
I grabbed his hand. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. I’ll do anything then, to ease your pain.”
“No sex.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to have sex with you – after-“
“Whatever you want.” I felt my own throat constrict. My earnest hope to manage our marriage under horrific circumstances had no basis in reality. “I’m absolutely certain that if I ignore him, he will make our lives worse.”
“I don’t believe that, but I also believe that you may be right and I’m wrong.” He said quietly. His fingers intertwined with mine. This was the way we handled conflict. It worked great for fifteen years.
The kids came home on time and immediately began arguing. I was looking through my closet for clothes which might show that I had at least tried to dress like a whore. There was no way I would put on the skimpy and tight things that prostitues in movies wore. I did apply quite a bit of make-up.
“You gotta stop being mean to me, Peg-neg.” Ridley accused. “That’s why Mom is acting up and hitting us.”
“I’m only mean to you because you’re such a snot hole. You’re always in my way or taking my stuff.”
“I give your stuff back. Mom won’t buy girls shoes for me.”
“Don’t you hear how sick that sounds? You’re a freak!”
“You’re a butt head!”
“Stop it!” I shouted standing in my doorway at the end of the hall.
My quarreling son and daughter went silent but stared at me. I told them. “If you don’t have homework, Peg you clean the kitchen. Ridley, you scrub the bathroom. I’ll check in an hour.”
“Mom.” Ridley confronted me. “What did you do to your face?”
“Yeah, Mom. You look like you fell headfirst against a paint pallet.”
In the heat of my frustration at my children’s endless bickering, I had forgotten about the make-up on my face.
“I’m testing some product.” I lied.
“It looks nasty, Mom.” My son grimaced.
“Trashy, more like.” Peg took pride in her greater vocabulary and for getting a lick in against me. She nearly purred from putting me down.
I couldn’t punish them for what was my fault. I fumed for a second. “Get started with your chores. Now I’ll wear this face all night just to annoy you.”
“Slip on some sexy clothes, and maybe Dad will treat you special tonight.” Peg winked. She didn’t mean any harm, but I started shouting. “Your father is a wonderful man, and you should respect him more!”
Son and daughter dashed away to get buckets and soap and scrubbers from the utility closet. I shrank back into my room. What should have sparked a mood breaking laugh had put a lump in my throat. Poor George.
Freshly miserable, I picked out a short, fairly tight skirt and some bikini panties. I wore an under-bra beneath a silky green top. The skirt was dark brown wool. I looked like a whore for Smokey the Bear. I didn’t own any high heels, but I put on my tallest, block heels that were black.
Checking on the kids’ efforts had been another lie and a means to motivate them. Before either of them finished, I sneaked out of the house and drove to downtown.
It was only 5pm. Half an hour later, I arrived near the intersection and waited in the car. A lot of people were leaving for home, and I had plenty of choices for a parking spot. I found one on Seth St., half a block down from the intersection.
The area was sketchy. There weren’t many derelicts, but I saw more than one prostitute cross the street and ply the sidewalk. My clothes were Amish by comparison. I texted the family info-board, which was a computer tablet set up in the kitchen. It could play music while displaying various scenery: plants, landscapes, cities… But it was internet capable and would display an email directed to it.
“I had to drive downtown to return the cosmetics. I may do some shopping while I’m here.” I had to get a dig in. “The more you two fight, the more I don’t want to be home.” That partial lie also explained my recent, abnormal absences.
To distract myself from the sadness around me, I played a silly game on my phone, wasting time.
Tap-tap-tap.
I lurched in my seat so hard, I dropped the phone. Looking in the driver’s window, a dark face put breath steam on the glass. “Hey, Sexy, you working tonight?” The middle-age, hispanic man had a light accent.
“NO!” I tried not to shout, but I was emphatic. Of course, the car was fully locked with the windows all the way up.
“I got twenty bucks for a blowjob. It’ll be quick in your car.”
“I-I’m waiting for my man.” I hoped to intimidate the insistent but probably harmless John. “He should be here any minute.”
“So you got a pimp? I talk to him.”
“That bitch nothing but trouble, Mister.” A new man appeared, a 20s white dude dressed to look as hood-dude as possible. “I got better ho’s. Let me introduce you.” The white pimp tugged on the man’s shirt sleeve. The John gave me a look that asked, “Trouble, huh?” He followed the white dude away.
I picked up my phone. It was 6:41.
BAM! Five minutes later a fist struck my window. “Get out of here, Bitch! This is my street!”
The white dude had returned and was livid at my presence.
I lurched away from the window and babbled anxiously. “I’m not a hooker! I’m waiting for a friend. Please, I didn’t ask that guy to talk. I was just playing a game on my phone! I tried to get rid of him! I didn’t know anything about this street. Look, I’m married to a wonderful man!” I showed him my rings.
The dude scratched stubble on his jaw, contemplating my words. “Nah. Can’t have you interrupting traffic.” He meant Johns. “Cops haven’t been told to scrub this street. So it’s prime real estate.” He glowered at me. “You a cop?”
“Sir, I’m just a housewife with a part-time job online.”
His eyes began to roam my seated figure. “Got some nice titties there. You have kids?”
I nodded shyly, thinking he’d be less interested.
“Let me see your tits. Maybe I get you better pay, part-time.”
“Please, I couldn’t!”
“Show him your fucking tits, Lisa!” A deep voice sang through the opposite window. It was Leland. He’d called me Lisa, and I understood. Blushing darkly, I pulled down my top and revealed my breasts by pushing up the under-bra. The wire stiffened edge of the supporting cups, ended at just under my dark nipples.
“Huh.” The white pimp said blandly. “I think you lied about kids, or maybe you didn’t let them suck your milk. Them’ll bring a good tenner for a boob job.”
I cringed, ironically wishing Leland would protect me.
“She’s no whore, not like you peddle, Jason.” Leland struck the roof of my car with a fist. “I called her here for a lesson.”
“Loretta?” The dude grinned suddenly.
“How much for an hour, no sex, maybe show her tits and twat for a little bit?”
“Fifty.”
“I’ll pay thirty, and I won’t touch her.”
“Thirty five, and you get forty five minutes.”
“All right. I’ll give you that. But the clock don’t start until we’re in a room.”
The two men met at front of my car, where Leland passed a roll of bills to Jason.
“Maybe you looking for some toot? This is genuine, old school, not too hype.”
“I stopped that shit.”
“Yeah, well Loretta may want some.”
“That’s your concern.”
Jason snorted. “I’ll bring her to The Stadium. You better be there first or I take another tenner. Clock starts when you got a key in your hand.” He ambled down the street.
“Out of the car, Lily.” Leland shouted. “Nobody gonna fuck with that Swede box. Jason’s good a keeping riff-raff off of his street.”
My tormentor had saved me but for what? The word ‘lesson’ was my only clue. Was he hiring a hooker to teach me something? I got out of the car and checked the doors were locked. I pulled my top and bra back in place.
He fumed, “Got no time for your shy streak.” He marched up to me and took my arm. “You look like the stupidest whore ever.” I stumbled alongside him to the intersection and down the cross street.
The Stadium was a five story hotel about two rooms wide, stuck between other hotels just like it. Two very scary black dudes stood on the sidewalk watching both ways down the street. Leland walked me in a hurry, ignoring them. He stopped in front of the steps leading into the hotel.
“Yo, Nigga.” One of the thugs called to Leland. “You don’t squat here with a bitch we don’t know.”
“Jason’s bringing Loretta.”
The thug’s lip curled at the sound of her name. “Tell you what. You give me the white bitch while you play with that old bag.”
“I would, but I didn’t pay Jason enough.”
“I got a nickle.” The other thug snorted. “Any more for that beat up twat is wasted money.”
“I tol’ you, Leland, the married, white cunt’s got potential.” Jason strode up. Next to him walked a short black woman. Her tits and ass were nearly as wide as she was tall. A plastic, purple halter showed her cleavage and under-boobs. She had a matching purple thong, but it was made of polyester satin. She wore white sandals with heels that put he on the tips of her toes.
Her trashy garb only worked against her attractiveness. She looked older than Leland. I was pretty sure it was from miles rather than age. Her belly and thighs had a lot of nasty scars. Her face was crooked, and her nose had definitely been broken long ago. She had pluck, despite her worn looks. Taking one glance at me, she scoffed. “You trying to be a pimp now, Leland?”
“You know I’d be a shit one, Loretta.” Leland tapped his left shoe’s toe on the pocked sidewalk.
“You smarter than this white nigger.” She rolled her eyes from Leland to Jason.
“Why you make me need to smack you, Bitch?” The white dude didn’t however.
“Making sure you don’t get lazy.” She answered. I suspected she had a smart answer for everything. Her eyes returned to Leland. “Jason said somethin’ about a lesson.”
“Stop jabbering and go do the thing.” Jason pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna start forty five right now.”
“Come on.” Leland tugged my arm, but upon reaching the top of the stairs, he opened the door for her. I had to enter last.