The Family BBC Ch. 01

George, my husband, asked for a divorce. I wasn't able to hear him. I was yelling at Ridley. "You stole your sister's shoes? They don't even fit you?"

"He sniffs them, Mom. I think he gets off on them."

"Hey, I don't do anything to them!" My son shook both of the narrow, canvas shoes at Peg his sister. "Mom! She acts so goody-goody but she torments me when you and Dad have a date night."

"I do not - unless you cross me first!" Peg eyes trembled at me. "He's lying!" She plainly lied. She was fourteen. Ridley was thirteen. George and I had planned them to be close in age, so they would get along. My womb served them up on schedule, but there was no joy in the Fairchild family. Our children had fought over which tit to drink from, before they'd said their first word.

Instead of Mommy or Daddy, she spat her first word at her brother, "Dummy!" A few weeks later, he called her, "Baybee," Mangling and drawing out the word.

George and I had to pry them apart several times a week. That was the scope of our joy of parenting - for fourteen and thirteen exhausting years. George ran out of joy first. "Leen! I said I can't take this marriage anymore!"

I'm Colleen, but what used to be a charming nickname had become a bitter sound that scraped my ears! I turned from our terrible teens and calmed into utter coldness. "Oh, no, George Fairchild. I took your name. I promised to love and care for you. It may have been a two hundred dollar ring and the ceremony was in your parents' backyard, but it meant something to me! You don't get to back out until I kick you out."

He instantly got defensive. "My folks backyard is a freaking National Forest!"

"Then I guess it was just our luck that the Forest Service leased the property to the local paper mill, a week before our wedding. The ground was covered in dying branches, except for the hundreds of holes where trees used to be!"

"Don't you take crap from her, Daddy!" Peg encouraged. "She probably pretends to have orgasms."

"Shut up, you teen witch!" Ridley barked at his sister.

I wanted to run from the room and cry, but I didn't have the energy. I trudged past my suffering husband. Peg said something stupid to Ridley. I rounded the corner to the front entryway when I hear my husband sigh. I plucked my keys from the hook and barely remembered my purse. Our children kept yammering at each other.

I was careful to the lock the door behind me. Reaching our old Volvo, I slunk into the driver's seat and let the dam break.

The drive to the shoreline is lost to me. I cut the engine in the park's lot and resumed crying. George and I had decent jobs, a failing marriage, and two psychopathic children. I rolled down the window to catch the ocean breeze. It stank of dying fish and decaying seaweed.

You ran away again. My mind scolded me. You yelled at your husband and ran away. I rebutted myself. Only because he didn't run away first. George had actually stood up for himself. Right in the middle of a normal fight between our kids, he'd stood his ground and declared he wanted a divorce.

Well, I wanted one too, but the numerous complications which arise when a married couple with children contemplate divorce are like a landslide on your soul. I had to pull a fresh tissue from my purse, but when I blew my nose, it escaped my trembling fingers and flew out of the window! Snot soiled empty hands.

"Hey, Lady! Don't be throwing garbage out of your car." A deep voice scolded.

I looked up from my grossly coated hands and looked across the parking lot. A grey haired, black man glared back at me. "Pick that up, Lady. I don't care if you have to chase it into the ocean and drown. I may be down on my luck, but I put my trash in a can."

"I-I'm sorry. The wind-" I started, but the large man's eyes held no mercy. I unlocked the door with gooey hands and climbed out. The tissue had caught in a small bush, fortunately. I stumbled over to it and bent down. He strode up to me like a park ranger. Seeing me shrink from his imposing presence, he grinned an awful grin. "Nice tits, Lady."

"Hey!" I grabbed the neckline of my top. Snot soaked into the frayed cotton. The blouse was old, and I only wore it around the house. The top button had popped off long ago, but I never found the right time to afix the spare. I did pluck the tissue from the bush, but a little piece tore off. I straightened. Where was the trash can? I looked around. I managed to wipe a little goo off of my hand.

"You didn't get it all."

I faced him. "I will. I just need a moment." That first moment I spent sizing up the bold man. He was tall, maybe six feet something, taller than George, wider too. He claimed to be down on his luck, but his clothes were clean enough for a walk along the shoreline. The stench of the shoreline masked whatever he smelled like. I thought he had been muscular once, but his arms and legs were puffy. He wasn't very fat. His tummy bulged somewhat though. His gray, kinked hair was balding. I guessed he was in his early fifties. I was forty three, and I wished my skin was as smooth as his which was black like milk chocolate. Mine might have been peach, but stress made it look whiter.

"You've been crying." He observed.

"Leave me alone. I'll get the damn shard." I bent down. A large hand grabbed my right elbow.

"Let me look at you." He threatened. At least I took it as a threat. His voice remained strong without anger.

"Let me go." I asked.

"First tell me why you were crying. I got all day." His hand loosened a little but George wouldn't have had strength enough to escape the black man's grip.

I wanted to tell him off, but I had no strength in my heart. "My husband wants a divorce."

"Tell him no." He replied instantly, firmly.

"Please let go of me."

His eyes flashed at me. His hand opened. "Stay right there."

I didn't dare budge.

He bent down and combed the shard of tissue off the bush. He ground it in his hand and put it in his mouth. He stood while chewing on it. "You got any food?"

"No. Do you want the money in my purse?" I hoped that by offering cash, he might take it and go."

"Yeah, but I want to talk more. This way." He started walking to the trash can. I fell in behind him.

Reaching the can, he opened the lid. I dropped the soiled tissue within, and he covered it. He hadn't said anything. Turning around, he walked to my car. "How long you been married?"

"Seventeen years."

"Got kids?"

I couldn't tell him that. "No."

He halted and spun around. "Let me check." His paws tugged the top of my blouse open without ripping it. "Just a sec." He reached in, and with incredible dexterity for the size of his fingers, he unfastened the front clasp of my bra.

"Hey! I'll scream."

"You got nothing to scream about. I'm just checking." His meaty fingers hefted both of my somewhat sagging breasts. "If you do scream, I'll act all innocent and everyone will think you're a fucking Karen."

I sputtered a nothing word.

"I thought so." He pulled his hand out of my blouse and frowned. "Those had milk in them, lots of it."

I kept silent, ducking my head.

"I don't care about your fool kids, Lady. My first wife and I were married for a couple years. She got preg and left me because I was no daddy material." He continued to the car and opened the driver's door. "Gimme the keys."

"You're taking my car?"

"No. I'm driving us out of this shit-hole park." He climbed in and stared at me.

"They're in the ignition." I felt worse and worse about my fate, but for some insane reason, I kept letting this stranger make decisions for me.

"Get in." He tilted his head towards the seat beside him.

I turned to go around to the opposite door. He leaned out and caught my belt. "Not that way. Crawl over me."

"I don't want to do that."

He shrugged and tugged, causing me to stumble into the open doorway. "Now duck down and crawl over my lap."

I looked around. The park wasn't empty, but everyone was at the shore, not dawdling in the parking lot. If I was going to scream, now was the last chance I might ever get. I bent my head and shrunk my shoulders together. He leaned back and let go of my belt as I placed my hands on his left thigh and ducked into the cabin. I reached forward and lifted a knee, taking my first step with it onto his thigh.

He grabbed me by the seat of my britches and hauled me to his right. I collapsed across his lap, feet flailing outside. My thighs landed on his right thigh."Hey!"

"Hey you, Lady. Hold still. Gotta make sure you didn't break anything." I felt his hands reach under my thighs. He grunted once, and it felt like he was tugging on his trousers. "It's okay." He pulled his hands out from under me.

My right thigh felt something stiff poking from his groin! "Eww!" I screeched and scrambled over his now tented lap. When I could swivel my feet into the well, I considered opening the door on my side and fleeing!

He grunted a laugh and switched on the engine and closed his door with a thunk! "Put your belt on, Lady." He grabbed his seatbelt from over his left shoulder and extended it to the latch. "We don't want to get pulled over." Gunning the engine leapt the car into reverse but without the tires squealing. He spun the wheel, backing out of the space. Then we shot forward. I was still fumbling to put the belt in its latch. Click!

He kept to a slow speed appropriate for driving out of the park. My heart was racing! "Where are you taking me?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"Home?"

"Not right away. You're not ready for that."

"Please. You can take the car."

"Now what kind of fool do you think I am? I keep shy of the law. I may be just another nigger to you, but people know me at that park."

I complained. "I don't even think that word!" Finally, I had something to stand up to him about.

We officially left the park, passing the shunted nighttime barrier. "How about a hotel? You got a good credit card?"

"I don't want -- that." He understood my pause.

"Yeah, well you damn well know I do."

"This is kidnapping, please-"

"What? Don't make it worse?" He snorted. "I ain't gonna rape you, Lady. We can do it in the back seat, if you can't afford a hotel. I know a alley not far from here. It's real private."

"Just stop the car and let me out!" I begged.

"Now what kind of good is that gonna do you?" He scolded. "Now, I am not saying that a good fuck will fix your life, or even pull you from your misery much, but it won't hurt, and I want compensation for helping you."

"How are you helping me?"

He shook his head and made a "TCH" sound.

"I won't." I cringed while trying to muster defiance.

He made the sound again.

"Shade Palm Motel" The rusted sign said. Green letters stained a mottled, white sign. He parked in a spot next to the office. The place maybe had a dozen rooms, five rooms on the ground floor, seven above. There were two other cars in the lot. One was a beat up brown truck. The second was a Chevy Bolt glistening with smugness.

He handed my purse to me. "Take out your card and license. Get a second floor room. Call the cops if you want."

Numb, I exited my car and walked like a zombie. This was my chance to escape a rapist! It was just that he didn't act like any rapist I ever read about or saw on a show, not even pornos.

The door shook but didn't open until I heard and felt it buzz. Then it swung inward! I nearly fell.

"You want a room?" An Asian man sat behind a thick pane of plastic. There was a cutout for passing cards or money.

"There's a man in my car." I babbled. "He kidnapped me."

The man's slightly oval eyes widened. "You don't look it."

"Can I use your phone?" Mine was in my purse with the old stranger.

"House phone. Two dollars. Two minutes - no more." He pushed a handset through the cutout. "I'll dial."

It was in my purse. I wanted to cry again. I had to sink to my knees so the handset could reach my head. "875-555-3-" It was George's number.

Of course, the unfamiliar motel number was sent straight to voicemail. "George, I'm not going to divorce you." I handed the phone back through the cutout, along with my credit card and license. I told the clerk, "Second floor." I tried to sound as uncompromising as the aging black man in my car.

I signed something and took the key, an actual key dangling from green plastic fob #23, back to my car. I stood in front of the dented grill, staring into the windshield and fidgeting with the key.

The man got out, locked the doors, and headed for the stairs. He had my keys and purse. I could only follow I told myself.

At door 23, He held out his hand. I gave him the cards and key. "I'm not taking a nap. If ya come inside, I'm gonna treat you right but for myself. Got that?"

He didn't wait for an answer. I'd either follow him or not. He went inside, threw the key on a counter, and dropped my purse and card at the foot of the queen sized bed therein. He began undressing.

I stood just outside the doorway, trembling.

He sneered and ignored me, pulling his shirt over his head and then unbuckling his belt. It was black leather, and the buckle was a gold plated steel loop. His trousers soon hit the floor. He stood in a thin undershirt and yellowed boxers. He was heavier than I imagined but not by much. His belly had maybe five extra inches on each side. "Like what you see?" He pulled down his boxers.

His cock was long, big long, but not huge like some porn stars. I'd seen big ones before in the flesh, some longer, some fatter. I never thought it much mattered. I'd had my early years of experimenting, taken knocks and learned from them. Cock size never mattered. George's quiet personality and occasional jokes had mattered. I liked his hugs, and he was a good lover. Soon he would be-

"Get in here, you silly woman." The naked black stranger told me.

I stepped inside, burning with shame. The door locked behind me.

"Take off that shirt. I like what I felt in the park."

My bra was still separated behind my blouse. I had registered for a motel room, flashing dark headlight before the clerk's eyes. Shame froze me except for my arms and hands. I slowly unbuttoned before the man's intense eyes.

Before the last two buttons parted their holes, the man stepped up and began fondling my naked tits. "Yeah, them's good sucking melons." He bent down and slurped in a brown nipple while he groped my other boob. His free hand worked at the clasp on my pants.

I pulled off my blouse and bra, letting them fall where they may. I started crying.

He ignored my trembling and quickly opened my pants, pushing them down my legs. Then he pulled me to the bed and sat me at the bottom edge. "Here's something you can do with your lazy hands." He grabbed one and wrapped it around his thick erection. The tip of my longest finger didn't meet my thumb.

He pulled off my shoes without unlacing them. I grunted each time. I held onto his prick. It was like a snake, hot to swallow me whole. Perhaps I could tame it by grasping it firmly. He groaned!

"Ain't nobody touched me in a couple years. Got too old for that kind of pity." He rose up and confronted me, eye to eye. "But my years taught me something about women."

I shrank back without releasing his pulsing boner. I was too afraid to. My fingers could feel his heart rate taking its time, like he was, confident in an easy score.

"I'm not a slut." I nearly cried again.

"Un-uh, Lady. You're better than that." He shifted his butt up the bed and hauled me with him until my calves rested on the bottom edge. My back fell across the mattress cover. His right hand resumed groping my tits.

"What does it matter? I can't fight you."

"You're what kids call a Free Use." He chuckled. "I knew it when you got out of your car to chase a damn Kleenex!"

"I'm not like that!" I complained. "It's just today, everything was so awful. Can't you see how awful what you're doing is?"

"Sheeeit." He snorted. His groping hand glided down to my pink panties. "Now what are we going to do about these?"

I closed my eyes. Tears squeezed out. "I don't care anymore."

"I figured you wouldn't." He used both hands to pull down my panties. I trim my bush usually. I hadn't in a couple weeks. Brown curls sprouted unevenly but not thickly.

He bent down to smell my sex. "Hmmm!" He delighted.

My fist was still rubbing up and down his large dick! The motion released its scent. My lips curled at the smell.

The man pulled my hand away and pushed me further up the bed. He lifted one knee at a time, fitting them between my thighs and spreading my legs. Soon he was kneeling between them. He jacked on his cock, aiming it at my face. "You want a suck?"

I shook my head. "Maybe there's a condom in the bathroom?" I hoped aloud. I had read some hotels provided them on the sly.

"Fuck, you really are a white woman out of paradise." He bent his dick down and pressed the plump head into my bush.

I could only shrink away and grimace, face red with shame.

I flinched when the fat tip pierced my vulva. He chuckled. "One thing you can rely on, Lady. I got no diseases. Like I said, I have fucked in years. And the state gives me cut-rate medical care."

His revelation did nothing to ease my anxiety. A stranger had taken me to a hotel and was about to stick his smelly dick into my body! Why wasn't I screaming?? I wished I was home and in George's arms. Except our fractious children lived there too. I had no place else but to lie on a bed under a down and out black stranger and his big cock. Tears dripped down my temples. They made me shiver.

The man paused his entry into my vagina, leaned forward, and slapped my face! SMACK! "Go ahead and cry when I'm not fucking you. Got it?"

I instantly sniffed back my tears and scrunched up my face. "You said you were going to treat me right."

"Lady, you got no idea what being treated badly is like." He hunched his hips forward and the thick head of his prick scraped into my cunt. I whimpered from the pain. He said. "I get it. You're not wet yet." He stopped forcing his cock into my unready hole.

"Please, Mister. I'm going to die of shame. Let me go." The three inches of hard prick, which he'd forced in and hurt my pussy with, had pinned me to the bed as securely as ropes or chains.

"Hhmmph." He snorted. His hips jiggled slightly back and forth, causing his dick to tug and push the first three inches into my dry cunt. "I told you I'm doing this for myself, you sorry ass, white submissive." He leaned down, hips still jiggling cock within my vag. He took my soft tits into his hands and pressed the nipples together. His mouth clamped over them, tongue flicking across them. His lips sucked, and his teeth scraped.

I writhed from the mixed sensations, irritation to partial pleasure. Pussy juices seeped from my loins and anointed my pseudo-rapist's, fat intruder. His teasing, black pecker slid a little deeper.

"Noo." I whimpered.

"Yeah. Cunt's don't obey anything but the dick taking them." He pushed another inch into my slightly moist recess. It hurt less than his first thrust. I grunted unhappily.

"You'll get use to it." The aging stranger looked up from my reddened tits. "I like it tight. A little dryness feels good that way." He steadily pushed the remaining inches of his meaty prick into my slit. I complained with a sustained whine, his dry and filthy cock filling me, bumping my cervix and forcing it deeper while stretching my cunt longer! "nnngghhhh..."

The top of his prick rubbed the underside of my clit. Small spasms from it shook it's hood, and blood pooled into the awakening nub.

His hands left my tits and planted themselves sturdily into the mattress on each side of me. "You're gonna juice quicker and quicker, Lady. So I'm gonna get rough. Grit your teeth. " He must have really liked his cunts partially dry. The prick filling my gorged pussy hauled back until the tip kept my weeping orifice open. Then he slammed his pecker all the way back in. "OWW!" I yelped from the impact against my cervix! He simply pulled back and started swift, pounding strokes of his cock within my not quite dry cunt! I squealed unhappily at his painful thrusts.