It Gets Nasty in Nice

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"Oh God, Samson ..." Heather mewled when she saw the man split the folds of Magda's labia with his tongue. The girl arched her back and groaned in a sound that curdled in Heather's stomach and left a cupreous taste at the back of her throat. It was the unfamiliar essence of Jealousy again.

Samson slurped at the girl's cunt, licking her clitoris and bringing forth a series of short yelps and sighing mewls. Heather watched, morbidly fascinated at the contrast between Samson's dark skin and the girl's pale flesh. She saw the man slide one, then a second finger into the girl's cerise core. Magda grunted and winced and babbled in her native tongue when Samson curled the digits inside her and rubbed at her spongy insides.

Without realising it, Heather had risen to her feet and approached the bed. She stared down at her lover and the skinny girl and rubbed her own pussy, fingers mushing against her sodden labia as she slid a forefinger over the greasy nub of her clit.

"You fucking bastard," Heather moaned, eyes glazed and heavy-lidded when Samson knelt and penetrated Magda with the long black cock Heather wanted for herself. "Fuck her," she whispered, her orgasm coming at her like a tsunami wave, a freight train of paradoxical emotions that surged through her. Heather sobbed as she climaxed, hating what she saw, Magda's cunt stretched tight around Samson's girth, the girl's face a mask of surprise and delight, eyes wide while her jaw hung slack. "I fucking HATE you for doing this," Heather grunted even as her fingers slid into her own opening and she mauled at one breast with her free hand.

"You love it," Samson insisted as he slid out of the girl and then manoeuvred Magda to his liking. Samson lay on his back and held his dick perpendicular so the skinny girl could squat and lower herself onto the thick root. "It looks like you already like seeing me fuck another white woman," Samson grunted when Magda began to bounce with enthusiasm. "I think you should kiss her. Kiss her while I fuck. Then you can suck her juice off my cock ... Yes," Samson added with a long sigh. His hands came up to completely cover the bee stings of Magda's tiny tits. "You suck her off my cock. Taste her pussy."

Magda cried out in frustrated disappointment when Samson flipped her off his penis. The man stroked his length and taunted Heather with his eyes, daring her not to come to him.

"I've never let anyone control me before," Heather murmured as she knelt on the bed and held Samson's cock in her fist. "I don't know if I like it."

"I will tell you to like it. Suck me," Samson hissed. Lick her off me and then kiss her mouth." He beckoned to Magda who moved to him immediately. Heather watched when Samson's tongue slid into Magda's mouth. The jealousy curdled inside her again, but she pushed the emotion aside and leaned down to slurped at Samson's dick, licking the girl's essence from it with long, sweeping glides of her tongue.

Samson watched the women kiss. He chuckled when Magda's hands came up to squeeze and massage the blonde's tits, their tongues swirling while Heather groaned into the girl's mouth.

Then Samson moved between them, wedging his hard body between soft, female flesh. He kissed Heather, making the older woman gasp when he pulled at her hair and crushed his lips against hers. Then he kissed Magda, lifting her and holding her close so the girl's legs went around his waist. He was inside her in one quick slide.

Samson clambered of the bed and stood with the girl clinging to him like a monkey. "You're going to lick her after I do it inside her," he snarled, his erection fully embedded inside the girl's lithe body. "Get ready for it," the man spat, his jaw clenched, teeth gritted with exertion.

Magda wailed and Heather saw Samson's cock pulse.

"You're cumming inside her!" Heather cried. The woman imagined Magda's belly full of Samson's baby. "That's so fucking sexy. Oh my GOD, I want to feel you in my cunt again, Samson. Please, please fuck me too. Fuck my pussy, darling. Pump your seed into me again." Heather's fingers moved against her sex as her orgasm exploded. "You lucky little bitch," Heather gurgled, her eyes fixed on where gooey spunk dribbled from Magda and trickled over Samson's shaft and swinging balls as the man fucked into the girl's climax.

Heather moved quickly, eager to comply with Samson's command to lick his cum from Magda's hot and swollen pussy.

"And for being such a good girl," the man said, grinning as he moved behind Heather, I'm going to fuck you again."

"Thank you," Heather moaned, lifting her face from between Magda's legs for a second when she felt Samson filling her pussy with gristle.

She slurped at the semen dribbling from the skinny girl's body, tasting her lover's cum and Magda's essence in one creamy cocktail.

Magda gurgled in Polish, her hips jerking. She rubbed her cum-soaked pussy over Heather's face, the goo dribbling out of her as her insides clenched and another orgasm hit her.

With the girl bucking at her face and with Samson thrusting behind her, Heather came again, mindless to everything but the sex and how good it felt. When she calmed and the three of them lay sprawled on the bed in a tangle of limbs, Heather knew she was completely enthralled by her lover; she'd do anything for him – anything he asked.

"I have something in mind for you tonight," Samson said to Heather. He grinned and kissed Magda's mouth. "It will be something completely different to our friend here," he added.

"I can't wait," Heather replied with a grin of her own.

***

Heather wore her highest heels, an elegant dress that clasped around the nape of her neck to leave her back exposed. She went braless and without underwear, naked except for the dress, shoes and velvet collar studded with tiny diamonds around her throat.

She met Samson in the bar and drank two rums and coke. After the drinks and three cigarettes, Samson took Heather's arm and led her out of the hotel.

Heather never returned.

Two.

Zack Parker flew to Nice two days later when his wife failed to answer his calls or to phone him as arranged.

The police were indifferent at first, until Zack utilised his considerable fortune and influenced the British authorities to pull some strings in France. Eventually, after ten days, the day before Heather was due to fly home, an official from the French authorities reported that no trace could be found of Zack's wife.

The Frenchman, significantly embarrassed, told Zack that his wife had been seen in the company of a man – black, estimated to be aged between thirty-five and forty-five. It appeared that Heather had taken the man as a lover.

"The housekeeper assigned to your wife's room told us it appeared that Mrs Parker had ... entertained somebody." He looked away from Zack's face and added, "The bedding was very rumpled and there were ... ah ... stains on the sheets. Also she saw your wife, the black man, and another woman – the one we identified in the bar from the video footage; the girl with long hair – going to the room together in the afternoon.

"CCTV showed Mrs Parker with the man by the pool and in the bar. Efforts to locate the slim girl with long hair have proved fruitless.

"The last record we have of your wife being at the hotel was the footage that showed her and the black man outside the hotel entrance before they climbed into a taxi. The driver of the taxi remembered the couple and said he'd dropped them at a bar near the beach.

"After that," the Frenchman shrugged, "nothing. No sign of your wife or the man."

Zack Parker flew back to England, wondering what fate had befallen his wife, Heather. A month later he received a phone call.

Three.

"Where are we going?" Heather asked Samson as the cab drove off.

"Wait a minute," Samson replied, his tone telling Heather she'd be better off keeping her mouth shut.

A dark van pulled up to the kerb, old, rusty – a non-descript workhorse of some cowboy builder stolen a few minutes before.

"Get in," Samson ordered when one of the two rear doors creaked open.

Heather hesitated for a moment. She glanced at Samson and then decided that she'd play along with the game – it was likely to be something kinky with her dressed to the nines, hair immaculate, subtly made-up in a dirty old van. What did Samson have in mind? Heather's pussy tightened with anticipation.

The three men waiting inside the van leered at her, and if it hadn't been for Samson's considerable bulk Heather would have been truly frightened. As it was, with Samson along, Heather found the thought of being fucked in the back of the van quite a thrill.

The first man fished out his cock, running his own fist along its length until it jutted out of his dirty trousers.

"Lift your dress," Samson ordered while the van trundled into the night towards Monaco. "Show them your pussy."

There were mutters and nods of approval from the assembly when Heather complied. Then another of the men pulled at the clasp at the nape of Heather's neck and the dress fell away to reveal her breasts.

She heard the men gasp and smiled. "Do they want to touch me?" Heather asked Samson.

The next thing Heather knew they had their hands all over her. Her breasts were mauled and squeezed and slapped, the nipples pulled while fingers slid between her legs and searched for her pussy. Heather gasped and lay on an old mattress while the men pawed at her. Then, without preamble, one climbed between her thighs and yanked on a thick erection all knobbly and gnarled with bulging veins.

The man grunted after thrusting and entering Heather's body, and one of his friends removed his trousers completely before he moved to Heather's head and rubbed her face with the end of his cock.

The blonde opened her mouth to accept the man's hard-on between her lips. If she'd been a slut in the past this was a completely new game for her – four men in the back of a van. Three of them complete strangers!

Condoms, she thought vaguely, but it was already too late since one man was already dumping semen into her pussy.

It wasn't pregnancy Heather feared, it was the ever-present threat of disease, but by then, with one load of jizm inside her, Heather was too far gone to worry.

The man in her mouth moved to where he too could stab at her cunt with his cock. Heather accommodated him by opening her legs wider and tilting her pussy up to him.

"Are they all going to fuck me?" Heather gasped.

"Oh yes," Samson grinned. "And I'm going to take your anus," he added.

Heather experienced a shiver of fear when she heard Samson threaten her tight, puckered ring. There was no way he was sticking his huge dick up her arse – no fucking way. She might have succumbed to his will and fucked him, and she might be allowing these smelly, unkempt men to gang-fuck her, but up her arse? That big black cock? No way ... Not going to happen.

Or so she thought.

Over the coming weeks, after Samson passed her on to the Arabs and he melted away from sight, returning to the African continent – a single black face in a sea of millions – Heather would learn that having her back doors kicked in by a huge cock was nothing to the torment and degradation her Master could inflict.

If she thought being filled with dick – one man in her cunt while another used her throat and Samson fucked her anus – was the ultimate act of degradation, then Heather would soon learn that being forced to accommodate a real horse's cock put what happened to her in the back of that van into the shade.

By the time she reached Monaco and was taken to one of the luxury yachts moored along the front, Heather was seeping jizm from every orifice. Her pussy and tits and anus were ravaged and bruised, and it had suddenly dawned on her that this was no kinky game thought up for her entertainment by a perverted lover.

This was something a lot more sinister and terrifying.

Epilogue.

Zack picked up the phone, a throw-away mobile that he'd purchased for this one phone-call.

"Hello?" he said.

"She is with the Arabs," a deep, rich voice replied. "I used her and sold her to some people who will take very bad care of her.

Arabs, Zack thought. So that's what he did with her.

He'd played the game, gone to France at the first hint of trouble, made a fuss when the local coppers dragged their feet. He'd acted like the shocked husband whose wife had gone missing, playing a blinder when the poor French bloke had the shitty job of revealing what a slut Zack's wife had been in Nice during her short, curtailed visit – a fact Zack was already fully aware of.

Zack lit a cigarette and asked, "Did you enjoy her?"

He heard a chuckle. "Oh yes," the voice responded. "I used her for the night myself. Then the next day I used her and a Polish prostitute. After that I did as you asked. Four of us ... We filled every hole. Check the internet. The pictures will be available for two minutes."

"Thanks," Zack said. "I'm just checking now." When Zack saw the images of his wife he stared at them for long seconds, absorbing every detail of her face, a gag wedged into her mouth, her eyes huge and terrified, naked and covered in filth. He spoke into the phone. "The money's yours," he said, and hung up.

In Nairobi, Kenya, a country Samson liked because of the easy pickings – horny white women on holiday on the coast at Malindi and Watamu – the man smiled and dropped the phone from the bridge into the river water below.

12
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16 Comments
26thNC26thNCabout 2 years ago

Heather picked the wrong Jamal that time and paid for it. Husband wins.

AnonymousAnonymousover 7 years ago
Love

a happy ending. I'm wet.

DonGraham333DonGraham333over 10 years ago
What a great twist to the story.

That was a really good story, a real twister of an end.

That was a strong story line. very good.

Are there any more!

AnonymousAnonymousover 10 years ago
You looking for a rational explanation ? Look in the asylum for insane manuals.

That's where this pathetic 'writer' was just released from.

God damn, are there some real sickos writers out there.

chargergirlchargergirlabout 11 years ago
Good read!

Too bad most here don't get that it's just a STORY. xo

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