Prelude: 1990

There were only two things that John Tolbert cared about -- football and fucking. In both he was ferocious.

John was eagerly anticipating the day he'd been waiting for all year -- scout day. That was the day when college recruiters came to take a look at him and the other seniors on the varsity football team.

"This is my ticket outta this chicken-shit town!" he'd been telling himself.

John had the arm and the instincts that the college coaches were looking for. Nothing was going to hold him back; except maybe, his grades which were probably the lowest amongst all of the athletes on any of the schools' teams. As far as he was concerned, football and ONLY football was his means of avoiding what he feared the most: being a former high school jock stuck in his small, dead-end hometown with nothing going for him except remembering his "glory days". Three members of his family had already met the same fate. This father and uncle had both been highly touted football players in their respective years. Neither lasted more than a season in college: his dad got injured and his uncle was expelled because of a cheating. Years later, John's older sister earned all-state honors in basketball and was recruited to the state's championship women's college team. Things looked promising for Nancy -- but just before her senior year she and three teammates were caught using steroids and were kicked out of school. After a year of trying to land on women's teams in Europe, Nancy finally returned home.

All three -- John's father, uncle and sister - ended up at the town's one steady industry -- the local plant that made parts for train engines.

John was determined that he would not end up like them. He even had a little extra "help" in his corner: his coach.

Coach Lewis had been "looking out" for his players for the past seven seasons. No one in the town had noticed (or cared) that so many of his guys were making it into schools that they otherwise would never have considered. Coach had made arrangements with select college scouts to receive a few dollars under the table -- which he in turned shared with a few teachers to "adjust" a grade or two.

Coach Lewis' "football factory" had been operating without a hitch -- but that was until Barbara Stevens came along and took a position in the Social Studies department. The coach approached her and made his proposal. He didn't anticipate that she would ask for more than he was offering. He "convinced" her to take less than she wanted -- since she was new to the game -- with the possibility of making more in the future.

"That's the way it goes, honey." He told her sternly. "Take it or leave it."

Although insulted, she took it. The next day she met with her principal and a lawyer.

No one noticed anything was amiss for weeks. It all started when Coach Lewis was asked to a meeting with the school board which was also attended by his teacher's union rep, the athletic directors at the state and county levels, two of his "football factory" teachers, his biggest paying football scout and Ms. Stevens. By the end of that day, Coach Lewis and the two teachers were fired, the college scout was banned from the recruiting in the state and the story was all over the news the next day.

Only two of the senior players received offers to play college football that year, John was among the ones who were passed over.

For "helping" to bring the whole scandal to light, Barbara Stevens was allowed to secretly take a teaching job in another state.

John Tolbert never got the opportunity to play football beyond high school. He bounced from job to job for a while, battled depression and alcoholism, and spent several years unemployed. A few years after his father passed, he continued sharing the house with his sister.

Much to his dismay, he eventually ended up at the engine plant with his sister and some of his former teammates.

Two years later, John had taken all he could stand of the way his life had turned out -- he needed a fresh start. His sister helped him land a new job with a carpenter two counties away. John packed everything he owned into his truck (which wasn't very much) and never looked back.


John had grown to like his new job. After a few years as a carpenter's apprentice he branched out on his own. The work was steady and he was able to make a nice living for himself. He was almost able to get over the disappointing turns his life had taken.

Until the day he took a call to renovate a den.

He arrived at the small two-bedroom bungalow late that afternoon to give the estimate. This would be his last appointment of the day.

He had to suppress a look of shock when the middle-aged black woman answered the door. Her face showed a few more wrinkles than he remembered, and there were more than just a few extra pounds and streaks of grey -- the name on the order read Barbara Davies, but without a doubt, this was the woman who was responsible for crushing his dreams: Barbara Stevens!

It took him a few seconds to contain his anger, but he excused himself and played the part.

"Sorry, Mrs. Davies," he grinned, "it's been a really rough day."

"No problem." She replied eyeing him cautiously.

They sat in the living room and went over the initial paperwork and her ideas. A few minutes later she was leading him to the den.

Much to John's delight, she neither recognized nor remembered him.

"Will I need to speak with Mr. Davies about any of this?" he inquired.

"No!" she suddenly snapped, and was instantly ashamed for her reaction.

"Sorry..." he replied as he continued taking measurements.

Later as he was leaving, she stopped him to apologize for her sudden outburst. "My ex-husband," she started. "It was a really ugly divorce." She was unable to look him directly in the eye. "You know how it is, bad things from the past that sometimes come back to bite you?"

"I understand perfectly." John nodded. "Better than you know."

They agreed that he would start the work that weekend.

John went home that night and drank heavily. A part of him wanted to go back to Barbara Davies house and strangle her.

The next day he came up with a better idea and spent the rest of the week planning it out.

On Saturday morning he arrived an hour earlier than he was expected, along with a two man crew. Barbara came to the door wearing a short robe and barefoot, still a little groggy and confused.

John apologized for the impromptu arrival as he and his men noisily carried their equipment to the den. He and his men ogled Barbara's thick exposed thighs as she climbed the stairs to her room.

The next afternoon, John sent his crew home early. Barbara entered the den to get a peek at the progress being made.

They made pleasant small talk. She offered him a drink.

"Water, soda?" she asked.

"Beer would be better." He smiled as he produced two beers from his cooler.

"OK." She smiled back and they continued to make small talk. Much to his delight the two were making a connection. He could tell that she was lonely and in need of company or attention.

Three beers later he could tell she was getting a little tipsy, so he moved on to the next phase of his plan: flirting. John surmised that Barbara probably hadn't had a relationship or a good fuck in quite a while.

His plan was simple: she had fucked him, he would return the favor.

After beer five, John was massaging her feet on the couch. She giggled and purred as he slowly slipped his hand along her calf towards her thighs.

A few minutes later her skirt was bunched around her waist as his fingers roughly, rubbed her pussy through her silk panties. He pressed his tongue down her throat, forcing her back awkwardly against the couch so that it was difficult for her to move.

Barbara could only moan. Whether from protest or pleasure John couldn't tell -- nor did he really care.

Finally he set her free from his grasp and pulled her into a wobbly stance.

"Strip!" He sneered.

Caught off guard by his abruptness, she took a small step back, bumping into the coffee table.

"Now!" He commanded again, leaning towards her.

Barbara's shaky hands moved to her blouse and began fumbling with the buttons. She stopped when she was down to her bra and panties, thinking maybe that this was all he wanted.

"No!" John snapped again, "All of it!"

Barbara looked like a dear-in-headlights as she slowly peeled off her panties and unfastened her bra. She made a feeble attempt to cover herself after dropping them to the floor.

John smiled. Barbara was unshaven, with a triangle-mound of curly, black pubic hair at the top of her thick thighs. Her breasts were large, brown melons with huge black areolas around protruding 1/2 --inch nipples. There were a few stretch-marks on her belly, breasts and thighs.

"She's still fuckable." John thought to himself. "I think I might enjoy this more than I thought."

John stood and undid his belt and zipper. In one swift movement he pushed his jeans and boxers down to his ankles. His rigid 9-inch cock pointed directly at her, between his pale but muscular thighs. Her eyes were transfixed.

"Come over here." He told her.

In two short steps she stood at arm's length.

"Down." He said.

Slowly and still wobbly, she dropped (almost fell) to her knees. John guided his cock to her face -- she needed no further instructions.

With one hand pumping his member, she slowly took the rest into her mouth to gently suck him. John abruptly pushed her hand away, grabbed the back of her head with both hands and slammed his full length to the back of her throat.

Gagging and off-balance, Barbara grabbed the back of his thighs to keep from falling. John's tight grip on her hair was what literally kept her from toppling over.

Gasping and gagging, Barbara's nose and throat were filled with his sweaty, musky scent and taste. Her eyes began to water. She began to choke until she suddenly remembered to breathe through her nose.

John throat-fucked her mercilessly, thoroughly enjoying the gagging and slurping noises she was forced to make. He pulled at the tight bun that her hair was done in causing it to come loose.

"You like that, Barb?!" he asked, pulling cock out so that it slapped loudly against her cheek. "You like gettin' skull-fucked like that, huh?!"

A deep gasp and cough was all she could manage.

"That's OK." He said, rubbing his member against her face and hair, "I got plenty more for you!"

She attempted to open her mouth for him again, but he seemed to be avoiding it. Instead he continued to smear saliva and pre-cum all over her face.

Pushing her back against the coffee table, John sat and removed his boots, socks and jeans. Spreading his legs wide, he called her forward again as he stroked himself.

When Barbara was close enough, he grabbed the back of her head roughly again, forcing her face down to his crotch.

"Suck my balls, bitch!" He snapped.

Lowering her head and opening her mouth wide, Barbara allowed him to drop his nut-sack onto her tongue. The heavy, pungent smell and taste almost caused her to wretch. One by one she licked and sucked his hairy, sweaty balls.

"Good girl!" he congratulated her, before yanking on her hair again. "Now lick my ass!"

Before Barbara could protest, he raised his legs and shoved her head until her nose was wedged between his butt-cheeks.

"You heard me, bitch!" he snarled. "Lick it!"

Reluctantly, she extended her tongue until it came into contact with the crack of his ass. John spread his legs wider until he felt her tongue press against his ass-hole.

"There you go, just like daddy wants it!" he laughed.

Barbara licked his smelly, sweaty ass until her tongue became almost numb with the taste. John draped one leg over her shoulder to prevent her from moving.

When he was done he righted himself and pushed her back against the coffee table again. She sat there looking at him sheepishly and teary-eyed.

"Go and wash out your mouth and then get your ass back in here!" He ordered.

Without hesitation she obeyed. When she returned, John said nothing for several long seconds. She nervously shifted from side to side, covering her breasts and staring at the floor.

"Turn around and grab your fuckin' ankles!" he suddenly snapped.

Slowly she did as he said, receiving a loud slap on her ass when she didn't move fast enough.

"I mean NOW, bitch!" John snarled.

Bending over as best she could, Barbara's large 40-DD tits hung down in her face, blocking him from her line of vision.

Without warning, John thrust three thick, rough, dry and calloused fingers into her cunt causing Barbara to cry out. He was surprised at how wet she was.

"Hmmm?" he thought to himself. "Maybe this fat bitch is getting' off on this?"

"Bet you like this, don't you bitch?!" John said as he forcefully finger-fucked her. "You like gettin' this black pussy fucked!"

"Omigod!" was all Barbara could moan in reply. Her own breasts were now smacking against her face.

It wasn't long before she was fucking him back.

"Yeah, look at that, you nasty fuckin' whore! You like it!"

Again without warning, John thrust the index finger of his free hand into Barbara's ass. She cried out even louder this time.

"That's right!" John snarled. "That's what I wanna hear! Scream you fuckin' black cunt!"

And she did -- much louder than before. The sudden intrusion into her virgin ass was as much a shock as it was painful.

"Please, no more...!" She gasped and sobbed. "That's too rough..."

"Think I really give a fuck, bitch?!" he snarled, as he continued to thrust his fingers into her.

Barbara then received another sudden shock -- despite being sore, scared and still a little drunk -- she was about to cum. A low rumble began to build in her ears as her thighs began to tremble and grow weak.

"Omigod!" she gasped again, as she began losing her balance.

John allowed her to tumble to the floor head first, collapsing in front of the chair in a trembling, sweaty mass of brown flesh and twitching nerves. This was the hardest orgasm Barbara had felt in a very long time.

"Nice job..." John thought to himself as he stood over her stroking his cock.

He admired his handy-work. She lay there curled in a very awkward position -- one knee was bent up to her chest, the adjacent shoulder was twisted in the opposite direction, her face pressed into the base of the chair. John surmised that she must have been very uncomfortable -- he was very pleased, so pleased that it made him cum.

"Oh yeah!" he grunted, shooting gobs of sticky-jism into her hair.

When he was done, John wiped cock clean on her blouse and got dressed. Barbara didn't move, only panting and sobbing as she continued to lay in an awkward slump -- her mind still swirled from everything that had just happened.

"I'll be back tomorrow to finish the job." John announced as he gathered his tools. "Clean up and get some rest -- you're gonna need it!"

On the drive home, John thought about everything that had led him to this point. He thought about his dad, his sister, the "dream of football glory" that never happened.

That night, John made a few phone calls. He remembered that he wasn't the only one that Barbara (Stevens) Davies had screwed over...

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