An Assailant Well Received

The black man jumped, fork finding its way to the floor with a metallic clang. The woman who had slipped into the seat in front of him was no stranger.

"Do I know you?" he asked anyhow, face set in a questioning frown.

The woman tilted her lovely blond head and smiled. "It took a while tracking you down." She eyed him up and down. "But I suppose, it was well worth the wait."

Something about the way she looked at him sent alarm bells shooting off in his head. Like a hunter looking at a caged animal.

"I don't know you lady," he said getting up. "I am done here."

The blonde laid her hand on his. Her skin felt as soft as silk, yet firm as iron. In a flash he remembered those fingers digging painfully into his back side, as he fucked away.

"That would be ill-advised." she warned. "Sit, please."

The black man looked like he might bolt, but thought better of it and sat his ass down. "What the fuck do you want?" he growled, not quite meeting her eye.

Her smile was delicious. "You know what I want." Her voice was low, husky. The black man shifted in his seat. She licked her lips and enjoyed watching him squirm. "Did you enjoy me in the bathroom?" she asked quietly, forcing him this time to meet her eye. She saw lust and fear writ in those big black eyes.

"I don't know you lady," he repeated, without conviction.

"Yes you do," she hissed. "You took me in that shit-fuck bathroom."

He winced as her nails dug into his hand. "You enjoyed it!" he spat, accusingly.

This time the blonde's smile cut right to the bone. She released him from her grip. "I never said I didn't."

"You can't do shit bitch." he snarled, "You've got no proof."

"Oh but I do," she rolled her eyes, "you came inside me, remember? You donated enough of your sperm to clone an army." She leaned forward on her elbows. "I could lend a little to the police department and we could see what they have to say." She yawned, as if bored. "That would mean serious jail time. Folk around her don't take too kindly to a black man raping an innocent white woman."

She had him by the balls and he knew that, still he reached around, like a rat in a trap. "What can I do to make this all go away?"

"Now we're talking," she said smiling, though her smile never touched her eyes. "You can start by not calling me 'bitch'. Oh, where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself. My name is Tasha." She cocked her head, waiting.

"Darryl," replied the man reluctantly.

"Darryl," parroted the blonde, rolling the name around on her tongue. It tasted good. "The

pleasure

is all mine Darryl," she laughed, patting his hand.

*****

Darryl found himself in the passenger seat as the Lexus rolled smoothly along the road. Tasha was a pretty good driver, for a woman. But he kept such opinions to himself. That he was in a fix was a mighty understatement. Drink, lust and peer pressure had led him to commit his crime.

After he had fucked the blonde and filled her tight cunt with semen, he had bailed. He had whizzed past the watchful husband on his way out the diner, even giving him a sly smile. He had never imagined that she would ever track him down. For fucks sake she had orgasmed on the edge of his cock! He had given her true pleasure, so why was she tormenting him? She should be thanking him not carting him off to god knew where.

And these locales did not suit him. The Lexus turned right and suddenly they were in one of the whitest neighborhoods' that he had ever seen. It made his black skin crawl. The car pulled over into the driveway in front of a fantastic three-storey house. Tasha turned off the engine and all was silent.

She looked at Darryl and smiled that smile of hers. "Well? Are you going to get out of the car Darryl? You are my guest for the evening, and we have the house all to ourselves."

"I aint goin in there," Darryl said nervously, shaking his head. "I aint." He shook his head, as if to reassert himself.

Tasha sighed and blew out a deeply held breath. "Darryl, Darryl, Darryl," she tutted, "when ever are you going to learn the meaning of trust?"

"Look lady, my ass aint moving from this seat." He folded his arms and dug himself firmly into the seat.

Tasha leaned sideways, her elbow resting on Darryl's shoulder. Her musky perfume wafted over to him and Darryl was suddenly, acutely aware of all her curves. Her hands gently patted his head. He felt himself stirring.

"Into the house, my black darling." she cooed, in a sing-song voice.

Darryl stubbornly shook his head, and felt cold metal being pressed against his temple. A black man needs no introduction to guns. White women maybe, but certainly not guns.

And he found himself at the business end of a Ruger .22 pistol.

"Into the

fucking

house, "she said, pointing with her pistol, her voice a low growl. "I won't ask again."

Darryl saw a kind of fire in the blonde's eyes. One he did not want to question.

"All right, all right," he said throwing up his hands. "Jeez, point that thing elsewhere."

She waited in the car, till he hobbled over to the porch and when his back was to her, allowed herself a small self-congratulatory smile. Her hands shook slightly over the grip of her gun. Though she had maintained a calm exterior façade, inside she was shaking with both fear and excitement. A bead of sweat broke off from her forehead and trailed down her bosom. She hardly noticed. Kidnapping a two sixty five pound black man was thirsty work.

She got out of the car and kept a foot away from him at all times and trained her gun on him.

"Open the door, my dear." she said, tossing him the keys. "Absolute pleasure awaits."

She watched with satisfaction as his big black hands shook and fumbled with the keys. But he finally got the door open. She prodded him with the Ruger.

He winced as he entered. "Aint your husband home and shit?" He risked a backward glance and saw the blonde framed by the sunset.

"Don't you worry honey," she said licking her lips, "he won't be here until tomorrow."

Darryl did not know whether to be happy or wary at that. "Should I uh...go to the living room?"

"Why Darryl," she said, mock hurt in her voice, "you are our esteemed guest. Curtis would be quite disappointed in me if I did not offer you the master bedroom, when you're staying over."

"I'm staying over?" Darryl asked, fear quickening his pulse.

"I am sure your mother won't mind." she said evenly.

He began walking up the winding staircase to the second floor, closely followed by Tasha. The door to the master bed room stood wide open.

Hesitantly he entered, and was directed into a corner as Tasha switched on the lights.

"Ah..." she hissed, "alone at last." She seated herself in a plush high-backed chair near the bed, which looked to be curiously positioned with purposeful planning. The chair faced the large gilded mirror. Another mirror was propped on the ceiling.

Darryl did not fail to notice these things, or the varied pictures of Tasha and her husband. A wedding photo adorned the centre-piece.

He watched her as she watched him in utter silence. She then crossed her legs and beckoned him forward with the gun.

"On your knees." she ordered.

Darryl got slowly down on his knees. "Look lady I..."

"Darryl, when next you interrupt me, sweet darling, please do not be surprised as this bullet rips through your thick skull." She spoke with icy calm.

She was being so authoritative that Darryl almost felt the need to obey. But he took her threat at face value.

"Came closer my dear." she beckoned again. Tasha watched Darryl crawl towards her on his knees. He cut a comical figure and she smiled inwardly yet again. "A little closer, yes that's perfect." His face was level with her lap.

"Take off my jeans dear boy." she said firmly.

He reached for her and then instinctively drew away. "Is this a test?"he asked.

"Indeed it is! And I am the teacher. So just do as I ask."

As he unbuttoned her jeans, he realized with a shock that it was the same Calvin Klein she had worn to the bathroom.

"I thought it's a nice touch Darryl, you're used to that pair of jeans aren't you? Will make things quicker."

As he undid her zip, it did not take him long to notice the same pink panties he had eagerly removed from her person in a certain bathroom, of a certain dingy diner. The pants came off and then the panties. He noticed that Tasha had not moved an inch. He was doing all the moving!

And Darryl was now staring into the pink pussy of Mrs. Tasha Curtis. The firm thatch of blonde hair told him that this was very much a natural blonde.

His face was inches from her pussy and Tasha could feel his warm breath on her pink vagina. "Get to it Darryl, or do I have to tell you how?" She moved her thighs wide apart and leaned back on the chair, her knees bent and her feet on the edge of the seat, her hips thrust forward.

She watched in the mirror as, he leaned forward, head diving into her pussy. She felt a tight twitch of pleasure as his tongue trailed a warm wet line along her pink lips. She held herself rigid, however not wanting to give the black pussy licker any satisfaction.

Darryl inserted his index finger into Tasha and started, as she clouted him in the side of his head with her pistol. Stars flashed in his eyes.

"Don't Darryl, only lips and tongue and teeth. No fingers. I won't repeat myself."

His face ringing with pain, a startled Darryl set to work again. He placed his hands on her thighs and began softly French kissing the blonde vagina. As he dipped his tongue into the velvety pussy, he thought he detected a small shiver of pleasure from the body. But it was gone so quickly he wondered if he imagined it. Perhaps it was the knock on his head.

"You're going too slowly for me Darryl," she rasped, "faster you black bastard." She pressed the gun into the back of his neck as if to emphasize her point.

This fucking bitch means business.

Darryl upped his ante, licking sucking biting the offered sexual flesh, till his tongue and lips felt numb and scraped raw.

"Faster Darryl, faster," she screamed.

The smell of white pussy was overpowering. Darryl could not smell or see anything but Tasha's thick pussy lips now bulging and filling with juices. He was amazed how she was keeping so still in this state. He chanced a look at her and saw her head lolling back on the chair, her eyes partly open but her grip on the gun was firm.

"Um Tasha, I think you're going to come pretty soon. I am just worried about the gun. When you uh...orgasm you may set the gun off by mistake." he added helpfully.

She looked down upon him them, through eyes narrowed to mere slits. She seemed to him, to be some empress of old on her throne and him a kneeling slave. In the current circumstances the comparison did not seem far from the truth.

With her left hand she pressed his face, mashing it against her groin, with her right hand she tightened her grip on the pistol. "You got two minutes Darryl," she panted, having difficulty catching her breath. "Two minutes before I blow you clean off. In two minutes you better make me fucking come."

Her tone of voice suggested she was serious though Darryl found the notion absurd. But he did not want to test her anymore. He had after all forced himself on her before and if she had her mind set on getting some payback, she could do a lot worse than grind his face into her pussy.

He set mouth to pussy and began licking and sucking so fast and hard his head literally trembled against her.

"Like...your fucking life depends on it..." urged Tasha, "and it fucking does!" she gasped, thrusting the pistol into his face.

"Oh god," he moaned grinding his face, nose, lips and tongue with everything he had. He felt swallowed by the pussy as she urged him on, using the pistol like a whip. Like he was her bull and she was whipping him into a salivating frenzy.

The world was fast disappearing for Darryl; save for the blurry images of pussy, flexuous white thigh and black stainless steel. He lost himself in his task, his mind wheeling.

"Oh fucking god!" moaned Tasha as she felt herself, being devoured by something akin to a starving tiger.

Darryl tore into her sex like a hurricane, his constantly vibrating head causing his nose to continuously rub against Tasha's engorged love-button. Each rough jerk of her clitoris sent her sexual consciousness into otherworldly dimensions. The chair, on which she sat, wobbled back and forth on the woolen carpet, groaning and creaking with the fury of the ongoing sexual onslaught.

Tasha had never before achieved the vastly overpowering pre- orgasmic state so quickly, and with such ferocity. The gun slipped from her fingers, onto the carpet, unnoticed by Darryl. Even if he had, Tasha doubted he could be stopped.

"Fuck Darryl! Oh fucking Jesus, sweet lord." She was screaming her hands clawing on the back of Darryl's curly hair, as he ate her inside out. Her legs began thrashing and flailing wildly on either side of Darryl.

The chair began rocking wildly, as Darryl started growling like a wild animal: "Unggggggggg arggggghhh rrrrrrahhhh....!"

As Tasha's white body started shaking uncontrollably, the chair toppled into the floor. Tasha felt the back of her head strike the floor, but was cushioned by the carpet.

"Rahhhhrrrrrrrrjjjjjjjwrrr......" growled Darryl, like a wild beast, still tearing up her meat. He had not even noticed that the chair had toppled. He dug into Tasha's pussy as if it was his last meal on God's green earth.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh........ haaaaa.... ahhhhhhhhhh...... oooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuu..." Tasha was moaning so loudly, that it sounded like a porno soundtrack was playing on full blast.

"Ouuuuuuhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeee.........." Her orgasm blazed through her like a conflagration, finding a life of its own.

Her hips bucked and twitched, her legs kicking wildly and senselessly, like a horse on its back. Her back arched as tight as a fully drawn bowstring.

Darryl gasped, as the twin white thighs wrapped around his head with a vice like grip. He coughed and gagged as no breath was allowed him, suffocating on pure sweaty white thigh. Then he suddenly moaned with relief, as the thunder thighs let up, and air rushed into his lungs.

He heard a faint gurgling, and was then blinded by a wet shower on his face.

"Fuc...ing,,,CHRIST... ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" Tasha screamed, as she squirted her orgasm on the half strangled black man's face. She watched as he opened his mouth in dumb amazement, and started coughing as the wet fluids found their way into his throat. He shook his head trying to blink away Tasha's wet excretions.

Tasha quickly retrieved her gun as her black pleasure –master, gathered hi s bearings. "See the things one can achieve when one puts their mind to things?" she waved her gun.

Darryl had yet to find his voice. It was a few moments before he did. "Can I go now?" he gasped.

Tasha stood still her arms crossed, her lower parts naked and wet. She watched the sprawled figure on the floor. She took a few strides forward and placed her foot on Darryl's face, still glistening, with her wet. Darryl found himself staring yet again at her snatch.

She lowered herself slowly on him so that she sat with her pussy squashed into his face. She wiggled her butt this way and that smearing his face with her vagina. As she let up she stared into Darryl's dull and dumbfounded eyes.

"Oh Darryl she purred, massaging the shaft of the gun on his cheek, "you're not going anywhere my darling. Not after the good time you've shown me." She shifted her weight on to his chest playfully.

She winked at him, but strangely it reminded him of the time when she had cocked the gun at his head.

"The funs just started, and there's a long away to sunrise." She moved up his chest again, and positioned her snatch right over his mouth. "Get at it." she growled.

"Again? So soon?" wailed Darryl.

Tasha was silent however, letting the gun do all the talking.

Darryl's roar of frustration, made the windowpanes shake. But Tasha did not bat an eyelid.

........................to be continued.