Author's Note: This is a new series of stories, all of them holding at least a kernel of truth, if not more. Not all will have full-on sexual contact and/or encounters, at least as I have it planned, but I hope the reader will enjoy the feelings, and emotions, that went through my mind. That being said, there is going to be a lot of interracial sexual relations, sex with strangers, and even some violence.
Call it adultery, call it slavery, or call it submission, whatever label you choose, but unless you have a CONSTRUCTIVE comment, I'm not interested in hearing your blithering, whiney fingers scream about how I should be divorced, shot, made homeless, or abandoned. We all have enough troubles in our days without listening to your opinions on how someone should live their lives. With that said, if you are still here, please enjoy this next installment:
To make sense of this chapter, readers are encouraged to read the previous chapters.
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I was stunned for only a second or two, as Juan had dropped his trousers, and displaying himself to me. Not that I wasn't making my own display, on hands and knees, my special pants having the slit opened as my knees were, showing him my petals. I gasped, not in amazement or arousal, but in shock. He man was heavy, I knew that, but all his weight seemed to be around his stomach and chest. Rolls of flab cascaded down him, and I couldn't really see his pecker. It was dark out, anyways, but in the light of one walkway in the distance, I could still see a little, mostly outlines. One thing was for sure. Ben or not, I wasn't letting that guy touch me. Not if I could help it. He was only a few steps behind me, and as he tried to walk, with his pants looped around his ankles, I tried to get up and make my escape.
Women who have tried to walk in stilettos on grass will know what happened next. With almost every step, my heel would puncture the grass, almost to full depth, and I would have to struggle to get my heel free. I couldn't just slip out of them, the ankle strap being tight around my leg would require me to stop, bend down, and release the buckle. That would have given Juan too much of an opportunity to get me in his clutches. An outsider would have laughed, seeing a thick, dumpy, fat man chasing a slender, well-dressed woman across the grass, in very slow, almost exaggerated steps, but that was what we were. My wearing a sheet blouse and purple satin bell-bottoms, and him wearing a shirt, and his pants around his ankles, we made quite a sight.
The slow-motion chase continued, and I was gaining some headway, as I went around the backside of the building. I figured I could get around it, reach the sidewalk first, and then beat feet to my room. I had made one step, past the corner and into further darkness, when I stopped, and groaned. We were at the edge of the property and a cinder-block wall ended the property line. I had managed to cage myself. My heel sunk at the same time, and I looked down to pull it out, and was taking my first step to turn, and try and make a break, when Juan caught me.
He damn near tackled me, and I grunted loudly as he landed on top of me, his weight nearly squashing me. He made his own grunt as his flab rolled onto me, and I felt completely covered by him. I was actually nose to neck with him. I landed on my back, and felt the moisture on the grass start to cool my skin, which had been sweating, as well as soaking into the soft satin material of my pants. It was cold.
"Juan.. no... This is rape!" I spoke.
We had landed directly underneath the back window of one of the hotel rooms, and I didn't want to get caught. I didn't want to risk anyone seeing me, realizing what was going on, or anything. I didn't want anyone to find out about Ben, most certainly not my husband. So I didn't scream. I didn't claw, I didn't do any of the things I should have, to positively protect myself. Instead I tried to wrestle my way out from under a man who had 100 pounds on me.
