Jean - The Birth of Venus Ch. 19

Peter's large hands alternated, slapping her mother's plump ass cheeks with powerful blows. Each sharp smack caused a wave of flesh to run up Alex's sweaty body until it shook her large dangling breasts. Her mother's nipples were hard, and sweat dripped from the rosy tips. The air was heavy with the acrid odor of sex.

Stacy was paralyzed with fear. Peter could swat her aside with ease, but he was hurting her mother. How would Alex survive this vicious assault? She had to help. She was about to run in and jump on Peter's back when another voice made her pause. Someone was hidden behind the door. She immediately recognized the voice of George Taylor, the company's middle-aged lawyer.

"Hurry up, Peter. I want a chance with your pretty fiancée before her daughter comes home. It took all my will power to restrain myself while I was dancing with the gorgeous girl earlier. I guarantee I won't hold back when I get my hands on her later tonight. I'll teach her to turn down my offer of marriage."

Peter grunted in acknowledgment. He was too close to an orgasm to talk, and his cock was slamming into Alex as fast as his forty-year-old body could manage. The pudgy banker reached around his fiancee's curvy hips and searched for his panting partner's clit. She shrieked when his fingers found the prize he was seeking and began strumming her sensitive clit like he was playing bass guitar in a rock band. A few flicks and a couple of hard thrusts pushed his screaming partner over the edge. She orgasmed hard. Her vagina squeezed his erection in a tight grip. Peter tried to fuck his way through her long orgasm, but the third time her pussy grasped his cock he let out a bellow and shot his seed deep in his lover's womb.

Stacy was frozen in place. The shock of watching her naked mother mating with the man who had been her father's best friend was too much for her to handle. After a minute or two of hard breathing, Peter's cock slithered out of Alex's destroyed pussy. He rolled over onto his back and draped a hand over his eyes. Stacy's mother rolled onto her back beside her lover. Her thighs were drawn up and spread wide open to Stacy's horrified gaze. Frothy white cum was leaking out of her gaping vagina. Alex's fingers were casually massaging her clit.

Peter said, "Damn it all, Alex sure is a fine piece of ass. I can only imagine how sweet and tight her innocent little daughter's pussy is. You need to try out the mom so that you can make an honest comparison."

George walked over to the bed. The portly lawyer was naked and had a glass of whiskey in his hand. He drained his drink and dropped the glass to the heavily carpeted floor before leaning over the end of the bed and grabbing Alex's ankles. He pulled her toward him until her gorgeous ass was on the edge of the bed. George draped her knees over his shoulders and stared at his target while he stroked his cock until it was hard.

As soon as he was ready, he drove his erection deep into her sloppy pussy with one powerful thrust. Alex grunted. On the second thrust, she lifted her hips off the bed to meet his plunging cock. Their bodies came together with a wet slap. They quickly set up a rhythm.

Peter eased himself off the bed. He smiled at his fiancee while she was getting pounded by his friend. He gave his limp cock a couple of strokes while reaching for a bottle of whiskey that proved to be empty.

"I'm going to go downstairs and wait for Stacy after I get a drink. Take your time screwing Alex. I promise I'll save you a piece of the daughter's ass."

Stacy's paralysis vanished when she heard Peter's horrifying comment and saw him turn toward the door. She ran out of her mother's suite and hesitated only a second before deciding against hiding in her room. It didn't have a lock, and it would be only a matter of time before they realized she was home. She went down the stairs as fast as she could. She heard Peter stumble through her mother's bedroom door.

Stacy didn't have time to call a cab. The frightened girl grabbed her purse from the floor, where she had dropped it, and ran out the front door. She paused long enough to close the massive oak door as quietly as she could before fleeing down the driveway into the darkness. By the time she reached the street, her heart was racing.

She knew the grounds of the gated community from horseback riding and soon reached the entrance.

Stacy had always been accompanied to Union Station in Chicago by her mother's maid in the past. Tonight, the naïve young girl planned on making the journey by herself. She would transfer at Union Station for a Boston train that stopped in the Berkshires where she could take a taxi cab to school. Luckily, her mom had given her a credit card after she graduated.

There were a couple of problems with the plans she had come up with under duress. Fear and four large glasses of strawberry punch spiked with vodka didn't help her decision making.

One problem was that the regular commuter trains to Chicago didn't run at night. The other problem was Stacy didn't have a clear idea about the route to the train station. The young girl didn't have a driver's license and was used to being driven everywhere. However, she remembered the station wasn't far away, and there were no turns on the way.

Our young traveler was surprised when she came to a fork in the road after walking for nearly half an hour. She worried that she had somehow missed the station. She didn't remember the road splitting, but then little of the scenery along the way was familiar at night. She wished she had paid more attention in the past. The choice of which fork seemed obvious. Streetlights lit one of her options. The other was dark and foreboding. A rumble of thunder in the distance helped make up her mind. Perhaps, she would have made a different choice if the streetlight on the road not taken hadn't been burnt out.

As soon as she walked over a low hill, she entered the outskirts of the town of Saint-Denis. She was in a neighborhood of middle-class homes. After another half-mile, she was surrounded by warehouses beside the train tracks. She stood at the crossing and looked both ways. The station was nowhere in sight. To the south, the railroad crossed the Saint-Denis River. The station had to be in the other direction. All she needed was to walk a little further and find a street headed north toward the station.

As soon as she crossed the tracks, Stacy unknowingly entered the poverty-stricken side of Saint-Denis. She couldn't believe such decay existed only a few miles away from her gated community and her exclusive country club. Such squalor should only exist in third world countries. She wrinkled her nose at the stench of decaying garbage and the fetid odors of overflowing sewers.

She stumbled in her high heels when the street she was walking on turned to gravel. She had gone nearly a mile after crossing the tracks and had not come upon a single road heading north. Her ankles hurt, and she shivered as a sudden breeze cooled the sweat on her body. After a few more steps, she realized her feet were in too much pain to continue walking. She decided to stop at one of the houses and ask them to call for a taxi. There was a rundown shack just ahead with lighted windows.

#

Jean reached for her drink and was surprised to find her cup empty. She lowered the paperback and saw that her tray was littered with four empty miniature bottles of vodka. Even the two soda cans were empty. She took a deep breath and realized she was hammered. She had no idea how much alcohol was in the potent drink her aunt had given her for the trip to the airport, but she knew she was still flying on a powerful combination of ecstasy and speed. The effects of the love drug seemed to be getting stronger. The only thing keeping her awake was the speed her aunt had mixed with the ecstasy.

She laughed when she remembered a joke. "What do you get when you give a drunk a cup of coffee?" The answer was, "You get a wide-awake drunk."

She wondered what happened when a drunk nymphomaniac rolling on ecstasy reads porn. Her body brought her back to her sordid reality. Jean's bladder felt uncomfortably full. She was so late when she arrived at the airport that she had skipped the restroom. Even though she had sweated out a lot of fluids running to catch her flight, she needed to pee and pee soon.

She turned to Andy and was surprised to find him awake and focused on her book. "Excuse me, but I need to use the lavatory."

Hank laid his hand on her arm and said, "You can't leave us hanging in the middle of the action. My brother and I are dying to know who gets the girl. Can you hold it for a few more pages?"

"Have you guys been reading over my shoulder?"

Hank chuckled. "It's hard not to with your overhead light shining down on your nasty porn like a spotlight on an escaping prisoner. Come on. Let's read a few more pages. I'm dying to find out what happens to her next"

While he was talking, Hank's hand worked its way under the overlapping blankets and grasped Jean's bare thigh just above her knee. He dragged her leg over his, so her lower leg was hanging in the air between his spread thighs. His rough hand never left her long leg as he caressed the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

"There you go. Now you should have a little more room. It'll take the pressure off your bladder. Maybe if you ask Andy nicely, he'll do the same with your other leg."

Andy didn't wait before lifting her other leg over his, leaving her butt suspended in the air between them. Andy slipped his right hand under her and grabbed one of her bare ass cheeks. His other hand wrapped around the girl's bare back and slid through the side of the dress.

Jean whimpered when Andy began massaging her bare breast and ass at the same time. He buried his head in the young girl's neck and began sucking hard enough to guarantee she would have a hickey tomorrow. She knew she should protest when Hank untied the top of the skimpy summer dress and pulled it down to her waist, but the book was getting her aroused, and his hungry hands felt pleasant on her overheated body.

Jean pulled the blanket tight to her neck and, in the process, covered his head. Any thoughts of complaining flew out the window when his lips latched onto her hard nipple.

Andy could no longer see the book and whispered from under the blanket, "Maybe you could read out loud?"

Hank wasn't to be outdone by his brother. His hand had returned to massaging Jean's upper thigh and was now only inches from her sex and moving closer by the second. He wasn't surprised to find her pussy was dripping wet, and he smiled as he wiped his fingers across the opening to her vagina to gather moisture. Jean's voice broke, and she stopped reading for a moment when he used his lubricated fingertips to rub circles around her unprotected clit protruding from the top of her hairless slit. The curious man explored the strange feel of her clit, unaware that her protective hood had been removed because of burns received during the Art Exposition.

Jean grabbed Hank's wrist and twisted toward him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Andy took the opportunity to slide his fingers down the crack of Jean's ass and make the short trip across her sweaty perineum before joining his brother's finger caressing the fidgeting girl's sex. She had to put her hand over her mouth to stifle a squeal when he quickly drove a thick finger deep into her dripping vagina. He didn't give the poor girl a minute to relax. His thumb pressed hard against her anus, and the burly man rammed it deep inside her butt as she twisted around in a futile attempt to escape. All the while, Hank's finger had resumed chasing her clit around in circles.

Jean wondered if she would be able to stifle her scream when she orgasmed in the crowded plane. It was getting harder to read out loud, and she whimpered as her orgasm rapidly built toward the breaking point.

Hank said, "Relax, Venus. You complained that you needed to pee. We're just trying to distract you. I promise, my brother and I will be careful to avoid giving you an embarrassing orgasm. Please continue reading. The sooner you finish the chapter, the sooner you can go."

Hank slipped his head under the blanket and joined his brother. He began sucking on the girl's other breast while his finger kept rubbing her sensitive clit in a small circle. She opened the book and tried to focus on reading. She prayed she could finish the chapter before she had an orgasm. The highly aroused young woman certainly did not want to face the embarrassment of waking everyone on the plane with her screams of pleasure. It was embarrassing enough when a man in the row in front of her turned around to listen. The stranger grinned as she read the next chapter.

#

Chapter 5

The tall, slim, black man riding in the backseat of an old Checkers cab was in a foul mood. He was known by his well-deserved nickname Long Shot or, more commonly, just Long. Unfortunately, his reputation as a crack sniper with a long fat black cock wasn't much help executing his current assignment. It had been nearly two weeks since the man known only as The Boss had phoned him with an offer that paid too well for the ex-con to pass up. His first task was to assemble a team for a risky operation in Chicago during the annual Juneteenth parade. The basic idea was to create a riot in the downtown Loop area of Chicago.

Long had never met the mysterious Boss, but his money was good. He found the first installment of cash in a bus station locker, as promised. His first action was to purchase a Checkers cab with a lot of miles on it. It was massive but reliable and had an enormous trunk. There was more room, if needed, in the spacious back seat. The cab's best feature was that similar vehicles were standard in downtown Chicago. The last thing Long wanted to do was attract attention before he was able to execute the plan.

The second thing Long did was to drive the beat-up cab to his favorite bar in the West Garfield Park neighborhood of Chicago. He spent a good chunk of the money he got from The Boss on good whiskey, quality cocaine, and friendly women. It was a mistake. After partying for two days, Long woke up in a strange, dilapidated hotel room with a massive hangover and only a vague memory of how much fun he'd had. After the great start, everything turned to shit. It took far longer than planned to assemble the team of Army vets he needed to carry out his employer's plan.

One fuck up after another left him with only three days before the Juneteenth celebration. Tomorrow, The Boss was sending someone to brief them on the finer details of the plan. The contact would bring the requested weapons and the second installment of cash. Long was particularly interested in checking out the telescopic sights on the M21 sniper rifle he'd been promised. He planned on thoroughly cleaning the Army standard issue sniper rifle. It wouldn't do to have the weapon jam during the critical part of the plan assigned to Long. He didn't want to think about what The Boss would do to him if he fucked up.

He'd had problems picking up the first member of his team. Tracking Ox down to a whore house in Chicago's notorious Fuller Park neighborhood had taken a whole day. Then the big black man insisted on taking his three vicious Doberman Pinschers with him. Their next stop was to drop off supplies at the safe house The Boss provided. The house was an old hunting cabin outside of a hick town called Saint-Denis. It took all his clout to convince Ox to leave the nasty beasts chained up outside the dilapidated shack while they drove to Harlem to pick up another team member. Long hoped the animals would finish the dried food bag and then turn on each other. If he hadn't needed someone who was as dumb as they were powerful, he'd have left his Army buddy to rot in Chicago.

Ox was a massive black man who had carried a Squad Automatic Weapon in the platoon escorting Long on his sniper missions. The big man had been butt ugly before a Viet Cong landmine blew him up. His mental capacities were never sharp, and his PTSD resulted in impulse control issues and unconstrained sexual urges. He spent a couple of years at Attica for kidnapping a young black prostitute and raping her repeatedly for a week. The woman went crazy when she was called upon to testify against her assailant. On the stand, she screamed that the big black man was hung like an ox. The judge gave him the minimum sentence when the victim begged Ox to marry her.

Long needed Ox to start a fight with the police at the Juneteenth Parade, but by the time they got to Harlem, he was ready to shoot Ox. The big ugly brute wouldn't stop talking in detail about every bit of pussy he got while providing security for the biggest crack dealer in Fuller Park.

It was supposed to be a quick stop in New York City, but things didn't go according to plan. The man nicknamed Coke decided the women in the bar where they had arranged to meet up were not friendly enough. Long and Ox wasted most of the afternoon and evening searching one nearby bar after another for the man he needed to carry out a critical part of the plan.

Long had picked Coke as the team's driver. The jittery ex-con had driven a reconnaissance jeep in Vietnam and was fearless under fire. He also had a reputation as a lady's man and had been sent to prison for pimping, pandering, and cocaine possession. The plan called for Coke to crash the Checkers cab into the largest group of police in the area while Long provided cover by firing into the crowd from a rooftop. Long convinced Coke that he would be able to escape during the chaos.

Strung out as he was, Coke managed to drive most of the night to a hotel near the Indiana State Prison. Tiny was scheduled to be released the next day. Of course, the guards had decided to fuck with the prisoner who had been a constant pain-in-the-neck and released him at the last possible minute. Long hoped waiting for Tiny would be worth it. The ex-con had also been a trusted member of Long's old platoon. He was a short, muscular black man skilled in close combat techniques. His preferred weapon was a Yarbrough knife.

Long planned to pair Tiny with Ox. While the dim-witted Ox grappled with one of the Chicago policemen guarding the route, Tiny could easily slip his blade through a gap in the officer's body armor from behind. A dead cop would draw a crowd of angry policemen, who would make an ideal target for Coke in the heavy cab. Once the cops started firing into the peaceful marchers, no one would be able to stop the ensuing riot.

As a result of the delay, it was after midnight when they turned off the highway at the Saint-Denis exit. They were all exhausted and hungry. The only smart thing Long had done all week was to buy groceries and booze while they waited for Coke. They had several days of food in a couple of coolers in the trunk, along with a box full of decent whiskey and a couple of cases of beer.

To dull their hunger, the three of them had killed off a bottle of whiskey while they waited for Tiny's release. Unfortunately, it was too late to do anything about his promise to provide some friendly ladies at the cabin.

Long's dark mood was interrupted when Coke whistled sharply.

"Well, fuck me! Take a look at that gorgeous white whore all by herself."

Tiny said, "Man, that is one sweet young honkey bitch. What's a high-class whore doing here in the middle of nowhere? Someone must have won the lottery and called for a girl."

Coke snickered. "Yeah, that would be us. We won the lottery."

Ox was drooling out of his scarred mouth when he stuttered. "L-l-let's get her."

Tiny agreed. "Yeah, I need some of that young white pussy. It's been too many days and nights since I sunk my cock into some sweetmeat."