Tracking Evil, a Podcast Pt. 12a

"I don't know what your deal is. Don't know or care all that much to be honest. Maybe you are single or maybe you're married, but it seems to me you went out last night looking for a bit of excitement."

Socks removed he looked at Arlene as he set to unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants. "My son, Billy, seems like he didn't deliver on that excitement. Maybe because the two of you were too drunk to get the job done right, shit... his room plain stank of beer. Whatever. You still got that itch going on inside you, I can see it clear as day. Fine looking woman like you, it'd be a crime to let you leave here unfulfilled. So that's what I'm gonna do... fill you." Sam let out a snort of amusement at his weak joke and pushed his pants down, kicking them free of his feet so that he was now nude and sporting a solid erection that looked a shade over a foot in length. That was the moment he decided to advance across the room to her.

Arlene, hungover and still a touch groggy, had about a second and a half to make up her mind as he strode towards her. Her emotional state, grief on top of self-loathing, mixed in with a healthy dose of frustration and rage, was not the healthiest to be making balanced life decisions right now. However, Sam was walking towards her, his black cock swaying, and it was clear that he wasn't about to wait the six or seven months while she underwent intensive therapy in order to let her pass sound judgements on her choices in life.

Good sense told her that this was wrong, that he was married. Bad sense reminded her that she had no plans for the day except for another frustrating session with crime scene reports on cold case murders. Okay so logic was out the window. That all burned up a second of the one and a half she'd had to spare. That left her a blinking of an eye to make a call on what would happen here. If emotions and logic had failed her, then it was a matter of instinct. Sam's son Billy, he'd been too meek, too willing, that's what had left her unsatisfied. His father, he had a confidence, a swagger to his actions and words that appealed to the submissive sexual beast within her. Decision made, down to business.

Sam stood over her, reaching down to firmly, yet gently, pry her hands loose from where they gripped the bedsheet about her. Arlene meekly loosened her grip letting him pull her hands aside, tensing slightly as his work roughened hands brushed her skin as his fingers tugged at the folds in the sheet, loosening them. Sam then gripped her hands once more, pulling the redhaired woman to her feet.

As Arlene rose from the small sofa, the sheet fell away in a whisper of cotton on flesh, giving the black man his first clear view of her naked body.

"How the hell did my son manage to get you to come home with him?" he breathed in wonderment as he looked at her ripe body, from her flat stomach to her full heavy breasts tipped with hardening nipples. Arlene's pale skin seemed even whiter than normal, a pastiness brought on by the vestige of her hangover, the dusting of freckles on her skin more pronounced because of it. Full red lips parted to answer.

"He bought me a pitcher."

Sam wasted no more time exploring the mystery of how his son had bagged a milf of Arlene's quality. Instead, he pulled her into an embrace, an arm about her waist as he bent in to kiss her passionately. As their mouths slithered across and against one another, their hands danced in time over each other's bodies. Her ass was groped; his balls were cupped and fondled. His nipples scratched playfully by Arlene's fingernails while her own nipples were tweaked and licked in turn. Sam swayed in time to the music, moving her body along with his own, turning Arlene in place so that he now had the back of his knees brushing against the sofa's edge.

Arlene found him ending their clinch, both their lips grown puffy from the fiercely impassioned kissing. Sam lowered himself onto the sofa, patting the seat beside him in clear invitation. Arlene climbed up beside him, resting on her knees so that she could lower her face toward his upright cock. She spat on its length, running a hand up and down the thick black shaft, smearing the thin trail of spittle along it. Then her mouth was over the tip, sliding down it, her hands gripping the base of the shaft, the smallest fingers on her hands trailing among his pubes that grew sparse on his nutsack. One of his hands lay heavy on the top of her head, an added weight to encourage her descent onto his dick. His other hand roamed free across her shapely ass, soothing it in a series of wide circular strokes.

Unable to fit his length inside her mouth, Arlene kept her hands busy, stroking and squeezing to maximise the pleasure she was giving him.

"Mmmh yeah, just like that, yeah, good," Sam said softly as she sucked his cock with growing enthusiasm, the act of giving head serving to refresh her as ably as a coffee and some painkillers might.

Arlene slid her lips down the entire length of his cock, a snail's trail of saliva in her wake as she did so. Reaching the root, she continued south so that she could suckle and lick at his balls, her hand replacing her mouth on his cock.

"Damn, you have some skills, more than Billy deserved," Sam groaned out in appreciation. His stroking hand now delivered some playful slaps to Arlene's rear, the black man turning his head to watch the flesh ripple and bounce as his hand connected sharply with it.

"Thhwwaank wu," Arlene answered, her mouth pressed firmly to his balls, her tongue delivering fast darting licks against them.

Sam leaned back, enjoying the blow job with his eyes closed and his ears open as the music throbbed through the speaker into the living room. As 'Hoochie Coochie Man' moved into 'Let's spend the night together' he made to move things along.

"Time to take a ride sweetheart," he said, all that Arlene needed to hear, pulling her face from his crotch. Sam stayed sitting in the depths of the sofa so Arlene clambered into his lap, facing away, her hands buffering her, fingertips on his chest as she sought balance. Sam held his cock at the ready so that she had a smooth mount onto it. His hardness had been assured by her good work, her own wetness never in doubt as her excitement grew with each lick on a black cock.

Arlene slid down four inches without real resistance, throwing herself into a heaving, riding bounce that drew her back up two inches at a time. Sam's hands made a fleshy clapping sound as they affixed themselves to her hips, guiding and supporting Arlene as she began humping his cock in earnest. Four inches deep moved to six inches as he helped the force of her downward motion. Her back-and-forth traverse of his cock's length stretched from two inches to almost four inches as Sam's hands supported her and her own ardour increased, the pace, speed and depth of her humping increasing concertedly.

"Oh, oh, oh" Arlene oooff'd and huffed in contentment. The magnolia hued sex of the night before disappearing from her memory, replaced now with a more lurid memory, the tinge of electric purple suffusing the heat of the physical event.

"That's right, not fucking with Junior now," Sam said. He gripped her hips, holding her steady so that he could bounce wildly against her, his cock lashing in and out, doubling in pace.

"Ooooohhhh," Arlene moaned in response, shivering and bucking in place.

"Yeah, now you got the Daddy on the case, shit's getting' done now," Sam crowed elatedly. Arlene came suddenly, no warning buildup, a fast hard orgasm shifting her pleasure senses from neutral to drive in a flash. As she stiffened in mid orgasmic flashpoint, Sam pulled on her hips with sudden fury, her body slamming down so that she was impaled on the entirety of his long black cock.

"Hnnnngh!" Arlene gasped as her pussy was overloaded with hard dark flesh. She bucked wildly, as if voltage had been applied to her, erratically spasming as she sat in his lap, her bodies response serving only to prolong her orgasm as she ground her sensitive flesh against his iron hard cock.

Sam released her hips, grabbing her tits from behind instead, groping them roughly as Arlene's torso shivered, the heavy firm breasts wrestling against his grasp, juddering against the roughened skin of his palms.

"I want to see them titties bounce," he said, pulling on both her nipples at the same time with casual cruelty. Arlene was breathless from her orgasm, drunk once more but this time on pleasure not alcohol, and she was falling very much under the sway of this confident dominant black man. Wordlessly she did as she was bid, adjusting her seat on his lap, turning to face him.

Her hands fell onto the back of the sofa, holding onto it tightly as she once more began riding the magnificent beast of a cock that was splitting her pussy. He had his head hanging back, his eyes moving from the gentle sway of her tits as she rode him, to the intoxicated appearance of Arlene's face as her mouth opened and closed wordlessly, her eyes unfocused as the pleasure began to build inside her.

"Faster, faster," he ordered.

She slipped her hands free of their grip on the sofa, moving them behind her, resting them on the top of her own ass. Arlene leaned back on them slightly, using this stance to add weight and drive as she began humping on his cock faster as she'd been ordered.

'I'll satisfy your every need; And I now know you will satisfy me' the lyrics throbbing into Arlene's ear drums as Sam's cock throbbed and pumped into her pussy.

He wrapped his arms around her pulling her in tight so that her big tits ceased their jumbling motion, pressing their softness against his chest instead. Their mouths locked once more, tongues pressing hard and wet, his big tongue sweeping inside her mouth in a style that could only be described as possessive. When she came again, locked up like this, she had no avenue for release. He held her too tightly for her body to thrash itself, he owned her mouth so that no wailing scream could escape, no purging or relief. Instead, she sweated, twitched and drooled as her body suffered in ecstasy.

Sam moved her soon after, a hiss and click from the corner of the room, a new record moving under the turntable's needle. A coincidence or was it a signal to the black man to change position once more? Arlene was on her knees, bent over, her hands finding themselves again gripping onto the back edge of the sofa as a means of support. The big black cock pulled a welcoming squelch from Arlene's pussy as it shoved its way back inside her, Sam moving forward until three quarters of its length was snug and secure inside her.

He then stood stock still as the sound of a fresh track pulsed into the room, blues music complimenting the earthiness of the sex. Arlene found herself pushing back, feeding his cock to herself, her need such that she couldn't bear any pause at all, craving the movement of a black cock within her.

'I was doing the things for you baby so you just wont leave me alone' the lyrics fed her mind as Arlene moaned to the beat of the music and the pleasure of the meat inside of her.

This was how it needed to be right now. For her sanity. Shelving thoughts of Elvin, Destry, Sondra into a deep dark corner of her mind, shutting it away for a time. Packing thoughts of hordes of serial killers, Erica falling deeper into this swamp of death, her work suffering as she tried to spread herself to thin, packing them away, pulling a shutter closed between them and the here and now. For now, in this unfamiliar house, with this stranger, there was no more Arlene the Deputy, no Arlene the leader, the hunter, the surrogate sister and mother. Here she wasn't in charge, here she surrendered herself, let herself be taken, fucked, controlled, submitting to her dark desires, giving in to the dominant black cock.

Sam started fucking back, slipping into an easy rhythm with her, a hand resting on her hip as his speed picked up, Arlene's body shifting the sofa so that it squealed and squeaked, its wooden feet scraping on the floor beneath it as their bodies slapped and slammed against each other. He gripped her suddenly by the back of the neck, his pelvis whip cracking back and forth violently in five eye watering thrusts that made Arlene whimper and slump on the sofa servilely.

On all fours now, Arlene felt his steel hard fingers thread their way along her back to pull at her flame red hair, her head lifting up in response to the pressure. His thrusts never slackened as he moved his hands again so that they slide either side of her raised head, the index finger of each hand curling into the corners of her mouth. Like two fish hooks, his fingers pulled her mouth agape, Arlene's tongue sticking out obscenely as he controlled her. He pounded her hard, never slacking, two tracks of blues music winding out to completion as he fucked her. Arlene's mouth drooled uncontrollably, her chin soaked and dripping spit onto the soft fabric of the sofa beneath her.

There was a sense of relief mixed with sadness as Sam began to cum inside of her. He finally released her aching mouth, the relief, as he thrust slowly, erratically within her, each inward shove of his cock heralding a fresh spurt of semen within her. The sadness came with the slow creeping escape from the furthest reaches of her mind of her problems. As the sex ended, so her worries and cares returned.

Chapter Two: "The beginning is the most important part of the work - Plato"

Erica adjusted the brim of the baseball cap, pulling it further down over her face before she stuffed her hand back inside the pocket of the hoodie she wore. She rolled her shoulders forward, adopting the tired looking slouch that she had been maintaining as part of her character this last month. Everything about her from her stance, her clothes and the expression on her face was crafted to deliver a message to anyone taking the time to observe her. 'This person is desperate'; that was the message she was trying to convey as artfully as she could.

She wore dirty converse sneakers, blue and white, the color faded, the fabric scuffed and torn in place. A pair of blue camouflage combats, cheap from a military surplus store, warm and hard wearing. These were dirty as well, below the knees on both legs the faint dried remains of splashes of mud, earned as she'd shuffled through the rain across puddle dotted sidewalks. A cheap v-neck white t-shirt, soiled with her own sweat, was concealed under an oversized grey hoodie. The colourful print of a sports team had cracked and fallen off, leaving a broken mosaic that was no aid to deciphering its original form. Finally, a baseball cap, faded from jet black to a muted charcoal, sat on her head beneath the raised hood of her top, Erica's short hair covered entirely by both.

When she'd agreed to this a month earlier, she had thought about a number of dangers that might happen. What she hadn't considered was the isolation that came from living rough, a nervousness about her surroundings that never seemed to let up, the sensation of always feeling grimy, a sensation she'd been living with for days now since her last opportunity to wash up.

Looking up, now that the rain had finally stopped, she took in the iconic skyline of New York city. It was past noon, she needed to head to the shelter, get in line for a free meal. Erica scratched at the back of her hand, wincing as she saw the dirt ingrained beneath her own nails. Shuddering, she allowed herself to daydream for a moment... hot baths, long showers, soap and shampoo. She couldn't dither any longer, moving off, Erica had a final idle thought, wondering how Arlene was getting on.

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Arlene emerged from the shower a new woman. Twenty glorious minutes of hot water nursing her stiff muscles had been rejuvenating. It was a thing with her, when she drank, she never slept well that night. Add in sex with Billy the same night and then a torrid bout of carnality with his father Sam the next morning and there was little wonder her body had ached.

She towelled herself dry, finally using the bath towel to pummel at her wet hair. Without a hairdryer to finish it off, she could only take the worst of it off, her red hair darkened by dampness hung in heavy ringlets last her shoulders. Arlene tossed the towel onto the rack from where she'd found it. Idly she noted the strands of her hair, long and red, against the whiteness of the towel. 'Explain that to your wife when she gets home' Arlene thought with a smirk, not even sure anyone would pick up on something like that really, perhaps it was just her law enforcement training, making her more aware of her surroundings.

Refreshed and no longer smelling like she was born in a brewery, it was time for Arlene to find her clothes, her gun and get the hell out of here. Plan firmly in her mind, she opened the door to the ensuite bathroom, Sam directing her to use the ensuite in the master bedroom rather than the main bathroom on the landing, stepping out confidently if naked. She padded along the landing and down the stairs.

There was no sign of Sam, she doubted he'd gone to bed with her still in the house, despite working a night shift and then dropping a load in her pussy this morning. Most likely he was in the kitchen again. She could hear the blues music still playing in the living room, but since she'd seen him stack a few records onto the player it would probably be a couple of hours before it stopped unless it was switched off.

Arlene scanned Billy's bedroom again, hoping that her refreshed eyes might see something she'd missed before but no, no clothes. They had to be somewhere. She tried a closet built under the stairs in case Sam's wife had kicked them in there, nothing. Arlene headed back into the living room, eyes down as she scanned left and right for her belongings.

"Blessed Jesus, hallelujah!" a voice cried out.

Arlene, startled, looked up to see an elderly man standing in the living room feasting his eyes on her nakedness. She immediately tried to shield herself, her arms sweeping to cover her crotch and chest.

"Who are you?" she asked, a touch of heat in her voice as the old man continued to leer at her.

He ignored her question, instead he turned to the door that Arlene presumed led into the kitchen, calling out to someone inside.

"This is who Billy met in a bar? And you are always saying my grandson can't do anything right. Well, he hit one out of the park this time."

'Grandson?' Arlene thought before realisation hit. This must be Billy's grandfather, making him Sam's father. On cue, Sam himself emerged from the kitchen. He was dressed again, when Arlene had left him to go shower, he'd still been sitting on the sofa, idly stroking his wet cock, coaxing and milking a few beads of cum out of the swollen tip.

"Pop's, this is Arlene. Arlene this is my dad, Zeke." Zeke held out a hand, offering it up for a handshake. Arlene looked at him and then pointedly looked at her arms folded across her body in an attempt at modesty. He continued to hold out his hand.

"Really? Now? Maybe after I find my clothes," Arlene said, definitely with heat now in her voice.

"Adversity is no obstacle to manners," Zeke intoned solemnly.

"Jesus, fine." Arlene hobbled over, uncovering her crotch for a half second as she briefly shook his hand. He grinned at her discomfort saying, "And you shouldn't be taking the lords name in vain like that."

"Yeah look, sorry. Just really not in the mood for a sermon right now, kind of need to get dressed," Arlene remarked, now looking away from the two older men and instead peering into the corners of the room hoping her clothes would magically materialise.

Sam cleared his throat loudly in order to recapture her attention. When Arlene did look over at him, he gave her a slow smile, it and his smouldering dark eyes making Arlene realise that while she felt she needed her clothes, Sam at least wasn't sharing that opinion.