Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 03

"I do believe you've walked into the wrong restroom, Young Lady," he coyly grinned.

"No..I'm right where I want to be," she wasted no time replying.

Denny thought about asking her if anyone had seen her walk into the men's room by mistake, but quickly decided from what he'd seen of Angie so far that she wouldn't have cared if they did.

The rhythmic thud of the music drifting through the thin bathroom door was steadily drowned out by the blood now pounding through Denny's two heads. Never losing his air of calm however, he stood his ground waiting for Angie to make the decisive move.

"I didn't get a chance to thank you for what just happened out there," Angie folded her hands in front of her waist and sighed.

"You're welcome," Denny nodded back. "But you could have done that back out in the bar," he wryly (and knowingly) added.

The click of Angie's high heels on the dingy bathroom floor echoing through the enclosed space, Denny allowed his gaze to follow the 22 year old girl as she sashayed towards the toilet stall. Casting a quick look towards the unlocked bathroom door, Denny rolled his eyes and said, 'what the fuck', before following Angie into the stall.

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His hand tucked deep beneath Angie's tight, form fitting skirt, Denny slipped several of his fingers into the same pair of panties he'd caught glimpses of when Angie was grinding with her friends on the dance floor.

His tongue rolling like a serpent's around hers, Denny pressed Angie's back hard against the inner wall of the stall as her soaking wet pussy responded gloriously to his scrubbing hand.

Easing the fly of his jeans back down with his free hand, Denny worked his cock loose then guided those five fingers over Angie's well proportioned chest before closing them around the back of her head.

Tilting the girl's head back, Denny proceeded to kiss Angie savagely on the left side of her neck.

A grating, "YYEEEZZZZ..AAAHHHH" shrieked from Angie's lips as she crumpled hard against her aggressor's chest.

For the first time in Angela Burton's life, she couldn't help but feel she wasn't in control with a man, and the feeling was intoxicatingly liberating. Hearing the ferocity of Angie's response combined with the way she dug her fingernails into his shoulders prodded Denny to bite even harder.

His dick freed, Denny wasted no time nudging the more than eager girl down to her knees.

"Little Miss Beauty Queen is down there sucking my dick..FUCK," Denny sneered with internal disbelief as he watched Angie's lips expand then envelope his jutting girth.. "I was in jail two months ago and now I'm getting a blowjob from Miss Fuckin' Teen Colorado!"

Any thought to Darlene Craft's plot nearly drifted from Denny's mind as he stood there in front of the toilet, his feet stretched out to each side of the college girl's kneeling frame.

"Boys back at the house would never believe this anyway," Denny knew, wishing like Hell he could share the details of such a carnal conquest, but knowing the mere mention of being in Boulder may come back to bite him if things went south.

Pulling the young girl's bangs back so he could get an unfettered look deep into her willing eyes as she devoured his ample shaft, Denny planted both his hands on the top of Angie's head and forcefully began thrusting his hips forward. Angie never once flinched or choked as she deep throated Denny's prick, her well practiced technique, tried and true.

A minute or so after Angie had dropped to her knees, the bathroom door swung open and some poor, unaware bar patron stumbled in to do his business. Taking a whiz in the urinal directly beside the inhabited stall, the drunken man could hear the shifting sounds coming from inside. Curiosity getting the better of him, once he'd finished peeing, he cautiously tiptoed over to the closed door of the stall and peeked through the crack.

One look at Denny's sadistic glare peering back sent the young man scurrying on his way.

Denny could have just stood there allowing Angie to milk the lust from his churning balls, but like most guys with the greedy heart of a criminal, he always wanted more. Ruthlessly stabbing the length of his cock down Angela Burton's throat, loving the look of submission etched across her make-up smeared face as she 'thanked' him for his good deed, just before he passed the point of no return, Denny reached down and jerked his dick free from the velvet grip of her lips.

"Stand up," he looked down and told her. "I knew from the second I walked in here tonight, I wasn't leaving until I fucked the shit out of you!"

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The gold colored thong she'd worn that night dangling like flotsam off her right ankle, the world seemed to be spinning sideways for Angie. Her bare legs wrapped tight around the stranger's back, the nubile young college girl angrily bounced her sopping pussy up and down on Denny's raised and rigid staff.

She'd walked into the men's room with the sole purpose of showing her appreciation for the good deed the man at the bar had done by summarily dealing with the guy who'd been stalking her all night. What had happened once that original plan was set into motion however quickly spiraled out of Angie's control.

Now she found herself suspended in mid air, the seeping residue of her arousal dotting the floor below as she savagely humped her crotch against the nameless man's prick. From the horrible words he was hissing into her ear, Angie sensed the man had probably just been released from prison, perhaps. None of that mattered in that one blinding and aching moment when he drove her to orgasm in that cramped bathroom stall.

The screams of release burning from Angie's throat only spurred on Denny's vicious assault. The men Angie had been with over the years basically fell into two groups. They were either so in awe of her beauty and reputation that they were almost afraid to touch her, as if making love to a porcelain goddess. Then there were the guys who loved the idea that they were hooking up with a beauty queen and were determined to leave a lasting impression. Those guys were generally so sloppy and shoddy that it just turned into one big mess.

The rare times Angie seemed to get what she wanted from an encounter was when she took the lead. She'd discovered over the years what got her off, and if the guy followed suit, then so be it. That was pretty much the gist of her rendezvous with Darlene Craft's Husband, Curt. What was happening to her in that bathroom stall however was on a completely different plane.

The fact that she was wailing like a bawling child in his arms did nothing to slow Denny's march towards his own glorious end. They'd used no protection, Angie wasn't on any sort of birth control, yet the more Denny's cock felt like a grenade preparing to explode inside her, the more urgently she slammed her cunt down on top of it. The same primal instinct Denny had shown when he punched the guy out in the bar he was now unleashing inside Angie, and she was prepared to ride the tornadic rush until he was done.

The concussion of Denny's release amplified from each one of his screaming pores. Both his hands cinched roughly into the flesh of Angie's behind, Denny struggled to maintain a grip from the copious amounts of vaginal sheen spritzing from her swollen slit. Fucking the young girl's pussy with a lifetime's worth of built-up rage, lust and aggression, Denny's cum spewed like a scalding paste from his loins until it overflowed from Angie and dripped to the floor like milky dew from her impaled pussy.

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The post-coital de-briefing, such as it was, didn't last more than a few seconds. For a couple deep breaths, the endorphins rushing through Denny's head led him to the doorstep of scrapping Darlene Craft's plan, and just letting Angela Burton be. Even though barely a word was spoken between the two, it was clear from the sound of exhaustion in each of their gasps, not to mention the runaway slot machine quality to their eyeballs that Denny and Angie had both just given the other the best sex of their lives.

Like a temporarily infatuated schoolboy, Denny nearly asked Angie for her phone number, but stopped himself just in time when he saw the clear look of disengagement in the young girl's face.

Watching as Angie situated her panties so she could step back in them, a visible grin crept out the corners of Denny's lips. Waiting until she pulled them all the way up and tucked them under her waded up miniskirt, Denny could sort of relate considering the number of girls he'd been with over the years and left after getting what he wanted. Casting sort of a 'touché' nod in her direction, Denny knew full well part of him was now swimming deep in Angie's womb at that very moment, even if she was too much of a snob to acknowledge it.

Standing with his arms folded against the frame of the bathroom stall, Denny watched Angie primp at her clothes as she checked herself in the cracked mirror hanging over the sink.

"Not quite what you'd expect for a wanna-be Miss America..checking her clothes for cum stains in a seedy bathroom mirror," Denny thought whimsically to himself when she turned and left the men's room with the same stealth as she'd entered.

He'd learned a lot that night just by simply listening. Exiting the rest room soon after Angie, while she returned to the party as if nothing had happened, Denny disappeared into the night. He had one errand left before the long drive home.

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Denny Pinson wasn't exactly proud of what he'd done to Angie Burton, but at least he'd kept his word. While it had been tempting in the throws of passion to go back on the deal he'd made with Darlene, the potentials she could offer were something a man with his current lot in life just couldn't ignore. The contacts with her Husband's contracting business would prove invaluable if he wanted to develop a legitimate financial foothold for his future. More to the point however, the knowledge of what he'd conspired with Darlene to do would be something her could perpetually hold in reserve if he ever needed something from her in a pinch.

More than anything, Denny took pride in a job well done. A feat you couldn't put a price tag on if you measured Darlene Craft's reaction a few days later when she went out on her front porch and gathered up the morning paper.

"LOCAL GIRL ARRESTED ON FELONY DISTRIBUTION CHARGES," read the massive front page headline.

Her hands trembling, Darlene sat out on the front step in her housecoat, oblivious to the early morning, 7am chill as she read with delicious interest every word that followed.

It seemed the esteemed Ms. Burton had been arrested at the middle school where she volunteered, helping coach a local girl's volleyball team. The police, acting on an anonymous tip from a concerned parent, had found a large quantity of marijuana in her car, along with a stash of ecstasy pills. She was currently being held as she waited for her bond hearing in the Boulder city jail. The article made mention that the charges could add up to 20 or more years especially when the arrest took place on public school grounds was taken into account.

Skimming through the article at least a half dozen times before she stood up to go back inside, Darlene kept coming back to the two photos splashed across the front page accompanying the headline. The one on the right was the moment four years earlier when Angela Burton, with tiara on her head, accepted a bouquet of flowers for winning the local Miss Colorado Springs pageant. The second picture was Angie's mugshot, and it featured none of the poise and grace that had helped her nearly become Miss Colorado that fateful Summer four years earlier.

An insatiable urge to scream 'halleluiah' at the top of her lungs filled Darlene Craft. She even found herself checking her datebook to figure out when her next appointment at the beauty parlor was.

"God, the gossip is going to be priceless," she told herself, dropping the paper flat on the kitchen table just to make sure her Husband Curt saw it when he sat down for breakfast.

Still basking in her infinite joy, the sound of her phone ringing at such an early hour quickly snapped Darlene out of her state of euphoria. Staring a hole in her purse as the phone continued to ring inside it, a cold wave of dread washed all those that positive energy right out to sea. The number to the Loughlin House was brightly displayed on the caller ID...

Part 4 to come...