Cathy Modeno sat in her car, staring across the street at the two-story house. She gripped the wheel with her small hands, knuckles white from the pressure. The house belonged to Taylor, the man who had fucked her at the church while she was drunk.
Cathy had been going to ignore it, and just hoped that it would go away, but she had decided this afternoon that she would have to confront Taylor, and tell him that if he tried anything else she would go to the police and have him fired and arrested.
So she had looked his address up on the internet and driven out here. The wind whipped down the wide street, and Cathy finally got up the nerve to get out of the car. She had driven past the place three times, and finally had gone to a local pub and gotten some of that delicious lemonade that her neighbor had given her.
That was the stuff that caused all this, she thought to herself as she got out of the car. Liquor really was the devils blood. She thought to herself that she walked a fairly straight line to the door.
She gripped the coat about her tighter, and caught herself wishing that she had taken the time to put on different clothes. Beneath the winter coat she was wearing she had on her shortest skirt, a pleated thing that hung almost to her knees; on top of that she had a soft knit zip up top. She had made sure that the zipper was all the way to the base of her throat, but she had realized at the last minute that the knit top was a size or two to small. Her mother had gotten it for her birthday and this had been the first day she put it on.
The gray knit top clung to her slightly curved tummy and large, round titties. She realized that the stub of her nipples and the line of bra where her titflesh pushed out was easily visible.
But, a short trench coat had taken care of that.
She had her hair up in a tight bun, and had applied a coating of glistening pink to her lips, the only makeup she would wear.
She knocked on the door, rehearsing what to say. She would not even go in, she would tell him what she needed to tell him right here on the porch! She thought to herself.
Cathy nodded decisively, but when the door opened and there was a black man standing there, perhaps five years younger than her she was caught by surprise. "Umm, is Taylor here?" she asked, suddenly nervous under the direct gaze of the young black man. How could such a young person exude such confidence?
"Yeah, he downstairs," the young black man said, eyeing the gorgeous woman standing on the porch. Cathy didn't think he could have been much over nineteen, the age she thought most young men should be in college.
Cathy started to ask the young man to get Taylor, but the man shook his head before she even got the first sentence out. "You got to come in, he's in the middle of a game," the nineteen year old said, and reached out and grabbed her arm, leading her inside the house.
Cathy looked around, surprised that the house was clean and decorated as it was. The black man's hand was still holding her arm, and as he walked he said, "My names Truck."
"Umm, I'm Kathy," she replied, and her stomach lurched again as the slim black man led her down a wide set of stairs.
She saw Taylor's big frame right away - he was sitting at a table with five other men, and there were cards and money and chips on the table. She marched right up to him. When he looked at her, his eyes were flat and nearly emotionless.
What she was sure of was that there was no fear in those eyes.
Taylor studied her, and spoke before she could, "Go wait in the kitchen with truck and Reg," Taylor said. "I'm busy here. I'll come as soon as I can."
His voice brooked no argument. There was a flash somewhere to her left, and Truck smilingly led her from the big smoky room into a long kitchen. "I'll make you a drink," Truck said. Cathy smiled and let herself be led along till she was leaning on a small, narrow cutting table, about waist high.
Another large black man came in; Reg was six inches over six feet and had huge arms and shoulders. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am," Reg said, taking her tiny hand in his. Cathy stared up at the man, awed by his size.
"Yo, Truck fix this lady one a my special lemon drops, bro!"
"What's that?" Cathy asked. Reg smiled down at her, and leaned against the counter top beside her.
"My special blend is a mixture of natural herbs - it should perk you up. You want me to take your coat?" Reg suddenly asked.
Cathy shook her head. "No, thank you, I'll just be here for a few minutes, I just have to straighten something out with Taylor."
"Cool, baby. Here's your drink. Do it like this, take this small glass in one or two gulps, and then bite and suck on this lemon. That'll fix you right up," Reg said, and smiled as the stupid broad drank the vodka and bit and sucked on the powder coated lemon.
Cathy made a face as the bitterness of the lemon mixed with the bitterness of the powder. Truck already had another one ready when she put the first down. She shook her head, but Reg pushed it into her hand.
She noticed another flash as she did this shot, and this time the taste was not as bad. In fact, her whole head going numb! The two black guys entertained her, talking about all kinds of stuff. After a period of time, Cathy felt herself beginning to sweat.
"When is Taylor going to come, guys?" she said, pouting. She realized she was fucked up, and not just on the alcohol. Her body seemed to be extra sensitive, and she could feel her nipples crinkled up, hard as little pieces of cork.
"When he's in a game, you got to wait on him baby." Truck said, and then reached out and unfastened the top button of her jacket. "You look kinda hot there, Cathy. What say we take this coat off?"
Well, she was warm, and these were really nice guys, not like Taylor. Thought of Taylor turned her stomach, gave her a hollow feeling that she did not like. She paid little attention as Truck finished unbuttoning her jacket, then he was peeling the jacket down from her shoulders and arms.
"Whoooo!" Truck said, looking at her with wide, smiling eyes. Cathy blushed as Truck openly surveyed her body. Then she saw Reg lean forward, till his mouth was right at her slim throat.
A shiver went through her body when his warm breath washed over her throat. "What scent is that?" Reg asked, and this time his thick lips actually brushed the silky skin of her throat, a breath again cascaded across her fine throat.
A shiver swept through the middle aged wife, and she realized suddenly that her pussy was actually getting wet.
Cathy shifted slightly; Reg's hands were on her hips, and his lips, red hot, were now kissing and brushing her silky throat. Cathy knew she should not let the man kiss her like that, she should push him away.
But the pleasurable shivers racing through her body made her arms seem to weigh a thousand pounds. She felt something lurch against her hip, and then he turned her a bit more so that her plush, round ass was pressed slightly against his crotch.
Cathy went very still. The man's big hands on her hips pulled her back tighter to him, and Cathy's breath froze in her throat as she felt Reg's cock lurch against her soft ass cheeks. She could feel it excellently through her thin dress and the shorts Reg was wearing.
"So what's up with Taylor?" Truck asked her. Cathy blearily focused her eyes on the slim man in front of her. Her hands found Reg's wrists, and she gripped his wrists and tried to pull his hands off of her lush hips.
Her wriggling did not do anything but work her soft ass even tighter against his straining cock, so the fat length was trapped in between her asscheeks. Cathy bit her lower lip, and tried again to pry his wrists loose, tried again to wriggle out from his grasp, all the time thinking what to tell Truck.
"Umm, he . . . he took advantage of me," Cathy finally said, and gave up trying to pull Reg's hands off of her hips. She realized he was sitting on stool; his legs extended to either side of her. She realized also that by sitting on the stool his fat rock hard cock was right at the level of her plush ass.
Cathy shut her eyes for a moment, and then decided to just ignore whatever Reg did. She could not stop him anyway, she rationalized, and surely he wouldn't go too far in an apartment full of men.
"What do you mean he took advantage of you?" Truck asked. "You know, you still look hot, let me open this shirt for you a bit," he said, and then reached up so smoothly that he had pulled the zipper of the tight top down to where he could see her deep cleavage, but not quite the bra.
"He . . . he came into my office and saw me with my dress open, and then he . . . umm, he felt me up," Cathy finished in a whisper. She realized she was still twisting a bit, and blushed when she realized she was accomplishing nothing but grinding her soft ass back against Reg's raging hard-on.
She stood stock still then; something told her to reach up and zip up the shirt again, but for some reason she could not seem to let go of Reg's thick wrists. She looked down at her shirt, and reasoned that there was not that much cleavage showing.
"How much was your dress unbuttoned?" Truck asked. He reached out and touched her shoulder in a gesture of care, and smiled at her.
"Well, I was kinda drunk, and hot, and I had forgotten that my dress was undone at all," Cathy said, afraid to answer the question.
Truck grazed his fingertips down her left arm, and his palm seemingly by accident brushed against the side of her breast. "How many buttons were undone?" Truck asked again. "Because I know Taylor, and he don't force anybody to do anything. Maybe you were so drunk you just didn't realize what was happening."
His palm brushed against the side of Cathy's breast again, and she twisted despite herself. "God, I know what happened. Anyway, it was undone enough for him to see my bra," she said.
