Dakota Moonshine

"Jesus Rocko, I aint got no clothes on. For Gods sake, take him next door to yours," Agnes wailed, the sheet she clutched about her slipping on cue to reveal a plump pale breast tipped with a rosy hued nipple.

Everyman, save the groaning Mario, turned to take in the sight of her firm luscious tit before she rescued her modesty by pulling the sheet back into place. The big man nodded simply, lifting the weakly struggling Mario up as if he were a child, carrying him through to the other room as the others followed after.

"Wa-wait," Mario groaned. Rocko ignored him, bringing him all the way in and settling him on the bed. His diminutive boss flailed out with his hand, missing once, twice before finally seizing Rocko's shirt on his third attempt.

"The bag... get, get the bag you idiot," Mario gasped weakly. Again, Rocko nodded, turning about with all the grace of a laden tanker at sea, pushing past the doctor and innkeeper with no apology before going back into Mario's room to recover the bag. When he returned, Mario palmed away the fussing doctor so that he could open the bag a hairsbreadth. He was acutely aware of the others interest in the bag so once he again glimpsed the packed banknotes inside, he closed the bag, feebly indicating that Rocko should hold onto it.

The doctor took his time examining Mario, tutting occasionally as he checked his pulse, heartbeat and temperature.

"Stomach upset I reckon," he pronounced finally. "Too much rich food most likely."

Mario groaned theatrically on the small bed, the owner of the hotel appearing worried that his dangerous looking guests might feel it appropriate to set this misfortune at his feet. Indeed, Rocko was eyeing him up murderously but then again, he did that to most everyone.

"Take these," the doctor said, offering a pair of tablets to Mario along with a glass of water. "These will have you put to rights in no time."

"Thank you doctor." the owner said quickly, "I will of course take charge of any bills for your service. Your stay gentlemen, on the house of course."

"You got that right pal," Mario muttered darkly having swallowed the tablets. He closed his eyes, wanting to say more but feeling it was better to keep his teeth firmly together lest he throw up again.

Once more Mario awoke with a start, the room he lay in was bright now as the dawning sun rose to spread its glow through the window. His three men looked uncomfortable and tired as they slumped on the remaining bed and couch in the room. Rocko, sat half asleep on the couch, bag of money clutched to his chest protectively. Mario glanced at the walls of the room seeking the clock. It was just coming up on 6am.

"Damn!" he said aloud, his voice rousing the others. "We need to get goin' to the meeting."

Even as he spoke there was a tap on the door, a nervous voice that belonged to Charles, the young black man working at the rooming house calling out the time. Mario signalled for one of his men to open the door. Again, he felt a certain satisfaction, despite his painfully gurgling stomach, at the look of fear on the young man's face when the door opened.

"Tell your boss to save the breakfast, I aint eatin' another thing in this rat house," Mario snarled by way of greeting. "Tell my lady friend to get her ass moving, we're outa here in twenty minutes. Louie, go with him, pick my clothes up from next door."

The man who had opened the door nodded, following Charles to Mario's old room. There was a muffled conversation next door before Louie returned with Mario's suitcase, jacket and hat.

"She says she aint gonna be ready, says she needs an hour to get her face on or some shit," Louie intoned without emotion.

Mario weakly stomped his feet on the ground, checking his balance before he pulled his jacket on. His breath smelt rancid from his vomiting last night so he picked up the half-drunk glass of water, sluicing it around his mouth before spitting on the bed behind him. His temper was not improved by this.

"Fuck her. Leave her. 'Bout time I had an upgrade anyway, eh?"

Rocko, Louie and the third man chuckled appreciatively at his words, falling in behind their leader as he left the room and Charles in his wake. The black rooming house employee watched open mouthed as the four Chicago gangsters left the small Sioux Falls establishment in a parade of muscle and menace.

An hour later and Maroo and company found themselves parked off road on a small plains area just outside of Sioux Falls. Approaching them was a convoy of a car and three trucks.

"Look alive boys, the injuns are coming," he said sarcastically.

The convoy pulled to a halt, seven hard looking individuals stepping out of the vehicles. All of them looked tough and capable and each was clearly armed. Whatever snide comment he had felt the moment deserved; Mario now wisely held back on. He needed this to go smoothly.

"Mr Russo?" The eldest of the native Americans enquired, his gaze alighting on the four gangsters.

"That's me," Mario said stepping forward, hand outstretched for a handshake.

The stranger neatly sidestepped the need to shake Mario's hand, turning instead to collect the truck keys from the three drivers. This done, he stepped forward, depositing the same keys into Mario's open hand.

"Mind if we check the goods?" Mario no longer felt the need to be polite, waving Louie forward even as he asked. The reservation folk cleared a path for Louie who then spent two minutes checking the contents of each truck. Silence reigned as he did so. Whatever the Indians were feeling, Mario and his cronies were too sick in Mario's case, tired and ill humoured at being outnumbered by these strangers.

"All good boss," Louie called as he rejoined them.

"Rocko," Mario said. The big man dropped the bag unceremoniously at the feet of the leader of the moonshine sellers.

The native American dropped to one knee, opening the bag. His fingers dipped in slightly at first before pawing frantically at the contents a moment later.

"This a joke?" The Indian asked, rising to his feet, bag in hand.

"Nope, that's the deal, as agreed," Mario said, a cold prickle of unease settling along his spine.

Wordlessly the Indian opened the bag up, letting its contents fall to the ground. At first a handful of bound packages of banknotes hit first, maybe a thousand dollars' worth in total. Then a small cascade of women's underwear fell atop them in a silken shower of whites, pinks and peaches.

"Oh!" Rocko said, understanding dawning on the big man.

"Shit!" Mario cursed, his hand darting to the pistol at his back.

Over a mile away, Agnes allowed herself a congratulatory smile as the sharp cracks of weapons fire filled the morning air. The gunfire went on for almost a minute, handguns, shotguns and rifles all barking away. Then there was a silence that made her strain her ears. Then there was one, two, three, four high pitched rapports, rifle shots. Each about five seconds apart.

"Coup de grace," she said quietly, remembering a book she'd once read about a knight offering a finishing blow to a wounded enemy. It was a shame. She would have enjoyed seeing that pig Mario's face at the end but she'd settle for knowing she'd won.

"So that's it?" The voice from behind her made Agnes turn, the wicked smile of triumph morphing into a small smile of gratitude.

"Yes, that's it. Thank God I'm finally free. Or, I mean, Thank Charles I'm free," Agnes said facing full on to the young black man from the Rooming house.

"It weren't nuthin' at all," he said somewhat bashfully, scuffing one foot in the dust of the small secluded lay by they stood in.

The moment Agnes had heard the big Buick's engine start up she had leapt into her clothing, disdainful undergarments in her haste, before grabbing her suitcase and dashing down the stairs to the back of the former Inn. True to his word, Charles was seated behind the wheel of a battered looking Model T Ford, engine rumbling as he awaited her arrival. Thirty minutes had passed as they drove out past the edges of Sioux Falls, reaching a spot near enough to where Agnes knew the meeting was to take place. She had no intentions of fleeing blindly without knowing for sure that Mario, Rocko and company were dead. Once she was sure of that, she could relax knowing she couldn't be tied to the missing money.

It had all been relatively easy. Charles, bless his innocent heart, had been all too willing to step forward and rescue a damsel in distress. He hadn't needed any real convincing, Agnes managing to orchestrate the entire plot while Rocko stood nearby, assuming she was simply ordering dinner and drinks.

It had helped that Charles was a bright young man, taking to the idea of spiking Mario's coffee quickly. Agnes had found, in her time dealing with men, that the one's most easily manipulated tended to be the clever ones. They always assumed themselves to be in control. Once she had a small window of opportunity, helped by a flash of a nipple and a groaning Mario, she'd taken the majority of the money from the bag, replacing it with her nightdress that she had 'forgotten' to bring with her and a selection of underwear to bulk it out. Rocko, lumbering brute that he had been, couldn't tell the difference between a light bag of women's clothing and one stuffed with cash.

"No, it was very brave of you. I'll never forget what you've done for me," Agnes said to Charles, laying it on thick for his benefit.

"You, uh, you mentioned a reward last night," he prodded gently.

Agnes smiled, a man after her own heart this one. Easily led and uncomplicated in his desires.

"Of course, I have a few dollars saved. Let me get my purse," Agnes said. She walked to the old black car, pulling open the back door to retrieve her purse from the back seat. Inside was a small derringer pistol. Ideal for disposing of the last link between her and her stay in Sioux Falls. Before she could get to her purse however, Agnes felt a hand close about her arm and she turned her head to Charles who stood right behind her.

"Is there a problem dear?" Agnes smiled her sweetest look at him.

"No problem, just not the sort of reward I was thinking on," he said, his free hand falling to the back of the summer dress she wore, cupping her firm ass through the thin material of the dress.

"Well... well I know I said anything, last night that is. But I didn't mean... anything," Agnes blustered as his fingers kneaded her ass cheek, not even the slim protection of underwear deadening the feeling of his touch on her body.

"Few dollars gets me a shot of whiskey and maybe a hand job from one of the whores workin' the backstreets. Think I'll take a slice of your pretty pussy over that," he said, the innocence his face had shone with now gone, an uglier cast of desire now replacing it.

"Wait... Wait!" Her protests were to no avail, Agnes found herself pushed further into the car so that her upper body lay on the back seat, her two wrists gripped tightly at the small of her back. She felt the waft of air as he pulled her dress up past her waist, heard the sucking in of air as he beheld her naked lower body.

Charles kept her firmly held, his strength prodigious despite raw youthfulness of his frame. He looked to be still shy of twenty but he held her with the confident grip of a much older man. Then there came the inevitable jingle of a belt being loosened, the soft hiss of pants falling free. Agnes bit her bottom lip as she felt the gentle kiss of his cock rubbing against her pussy.

"Best we get you ready, doubt a fine woman like you been guilty of takin' a black man's cock before now," he chortled behind her and Agnes moaned in distress as she felt a finger pushing its way inside of her.

Agnes hadn't survived an upbringing on the tough streets of Chicago, then navigated her way through working in the seedy underside of burlesque entertainment before finally finding herself the 'moll' of a known gangster without picking up a few tricks. One of them was to separate her feelings from her body's responses. Swallowing her anger towards Charles, she instead allowed his probing finger to excite her. It wasn't a hard task, the young man proving himself far more skilled than Mario or a great many other men she'd slept with in the past.

"Mmmh getting' slick now," Charles declared from behind her, pushing a second finger within her pussy as he flexed and wiggled them within her.

"Uhhh," Agnes moaned, split between humouring him and responding to her own base desires.

He continued his foreplay for a short while longer, Agnes pussy indeed becoming well lubricated as he coaxed it towards feelings of pleasure with his nimbly dancing digits. Then his patience, short like most men his age, waned and he looked to replace his fingers with his cock.

She gasped at the returning sensation of his cock at the entrance to her pussy. For a brief panic filled moment, Agnes thought the black man was attempting to push a fist inside of her tight pussy. It was a relief, at first, when she realised the unyielding pressure came instead from his thick cock. Thick hardly seemed a sufficient word for it. Bent over as she was, Agnes was unable to see exactly what sort of billy club like weapon the young man possessed between his legs but it was far and away the largest thing that had ever attempted passage through her own pale thighs.

"N-no. Jesus no," she whimpered as the head of the cock wormed its way inside her entrance.

"Ssshh it's all good baby. This is my first white pussy so don't go spoilin' the moment for me," Charles said soothingly behind her. Her restrained hands clenched into fists, long nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms as he worked still more of the cock into her snug burrow.

Agnes screwed her eyes shut, trying to breath in slowly through her nose, exhaling in long breaths through her mouth as she sought for calm. It felt like he was breaching her with a pick axe handle, though her logical mind told her it was just a few inches deep. Still the breathing helped and she relaxed some, letting her clenched fists open, much as her pussy did against his cock. Slowly.

"I knows why that big shot was all messed up over this pussy, hell if you was mine, I'd be just as possessive," Charles groaned, Agnes's tightness slacking imperceptivity, his cock sinking further inside until half its long length was sheathed within her. He paused, savouring the sensation of her pussy straining to expel his invading cock, muscled walls pushing at the shaft as it tried to force it out.

Then he began fucking her. Slow, even strokes as he struggled to maintain his own composure, the sweetness of her cunt unlike anything he had every tried before. She moved against him, small wriggling twists that added to the pleasure but made keeping his footing an effort. To still her, Charles picked up the pace, using the impetus of his pounding hips to batter his way still further up her snatch.

Agnes could taste the worn leather of the backseat of the Model T Ford in her mouth, the first clue her befuddled mind had that she had taken to biting the upholstery of the old car in response to Charles's fucking. She couldn't believe it. He had seemed sweet, innocent if not even gullible. Now her ass was raised to the South Dakota sky as he plundered her pussy at will. Still, she was comforted somewhat by the thought that his pace and youthful enthusiasm could only lead to a speedy spilling of his seed. Her experience had shown this to be true on so many occasions before in her past.

It appeared she had miscalculated once again regarding this black man. After a couple of minutes, he had passed by Mario's usual finishing point, three more minutes of unabating fucking and he had set a new record, at least for Agnes. She was in awe at his stamina and despite the degrading manner in which he was taking her, she could feel an orgasm begin to crest within her. That was also an unusual enough event, Agnes quite often having need to finish herself off after a turn with a lover, rare it was that a man would bring her to orgasm while still mid fuck.

"Uhhhhh, Charles, Charles, stop," Agnes moaned, her hips moving as much as they could with his weight bearing down on them so rapidly. She came then, astonishment and pleasure robbing her of any meaningful words, her body answering the call, jerking back again against the pounding of the black flesh inside her.

"Uhhh, uh, Charles, Charles," she moaned again, this time without the admonishment to cease his actions. This wasn't lost on the bright young bell hop. He slammed at her yielding pussy, feeling it open up now post orgasm, his cock slipping deep still until the curly black pubes on his swaying ball sack smacked against the tight red curls that adorned her pubic mound.

Perhaps he had a sliver left of the chivalry that had made Agnes select him as her dupe. A tiny remnant of civility that the would-be Knight Errant should possess in regard to a damsel in distress. Whatever, just as Agnes slipped into the throes of a second orgasm, Charles pulled himself free of the luscious redhead's pussy, his throbbing cock spitting out its tribute onto the smooth globe of her upturned ass cheek. Agnes felt the sperm splutter onto her sensitive flesh, a brief moment of confusion in her sex addled brain making her wish he had remained inside her till the end.

Post coital shame seemed to swamp the young man, he staggered backwards from Agnes's bent over body, his pants still about his knees. Shamefaced he dropped his eyes to the ground as Agnes stood upright, turning to face him.

"Really? Really Charles? I expected, well better from you," she spoke, her calm words at odds with her flushed face and heaving chest.

"Ma'am I'm sorry. I got no defence. Only... only you the most beautiful thing I ever seen an' I jest, well I just had to have you," he said, his words thick with remorse.

"Uh-huh," she said, her gaze unsettling him further, his chin dropping to his chest as he hung his head low in shame. His eye's downcast in this way, he was unaware of Agnes unbuttoning her dress, only noticing it as it fell with a krump on the dusty ground.

Startled he looked up to see her fully nude now, her breasts still rising and falling as her heart still raced from the two orgasms she'd endured. Agnes reached behind her head, unpinning her long wavy red hair so that it fell down in a scarlet wave past her pale freckled shoulders.

"As I said, I expected better. Now best you remove your own clothing so that you can show me what you are capable of," Agnes chided him.

As he rushed to comply, she gathered her purse and the dress. The dress she laid on a grassy verge beside the car, a makeshift blanket. It was already soiled in spots from his cum, so she wouldn't be keeping it anyway. It wasn't like she couldn't afford a new one now. She lay on her back, knees bent and falling away from one another so that as Charles approached the entrance to her ravaged pussy lay open.

If he had been entranced by her nudity, Agnes was similarly enthralled by the site of the rampant cock swaying as it approach. It must have been a foot long when hard, even half erect as it was it looked to be nice inches and so thick it made her eyes water at the thought of it pushing inside her again.

He dropped to all fours in front of her, tightly curled head pushing between her legs so that his full soft lips pressed in a deepening kiss against her pussy. Agnes let her head fall back as his kisses turned to a nibbling action which in turn changed as he began to lap like a thirsty dog at her juice laden snatch. Her long fingernails swept over his scalp, whirling and spiralling as they combed at his head, encouraging him to eat her out. She pressed against him, clutching at his skull when her pussy exploded a third time, directly onto his gorging mouth.