/ Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are
under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave
now. If you're and curious, this is not the place to get the
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories.
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so we
can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain,
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.
Touched (in one of my private places) By an Angel
(The following account is fictitious- any resemblance to Angels- living
or dead is purely co-incidental)
A long road wound away from them, skirting the foothills of the
Nevada desert. The two figures were bathed in a beatific glow as the
larger black woman spoke to the redhead.
"Well, it may be unusual, little miss wings, but I don't recall
anyone asking you for your opinion," she was saying.
"It just seems so--unsavory for a child of God," Monica
protested.
"What would you rather be? A sagebush? Look around- what
else is there out here? Besides, you know how the feels about
these girls," Tess reprimanded her charge.
Down the road, Angelica stretched to pull out the kinks from
another tortured night's- or morning's- sleep. It was well after noon, but
it was still early for the Coyote's Howl. Out of reflex more than
anything she pulled on a diaphanous robe and stumbled down the stairs
in her feather-covered, high-heeled backless mules.
'Aunt Jemima' was in the kitchen standing over a fresh-brewed
pot of coffee with Andrew, the brothel's new piano player. Angelica
shuffled to a place at the table and dropped into one of the chairs.
"Rough night, honey?" the black woman asked tenderly.
"Not the night," Angelica said wearily, "It's those dreams in the
morning. Can I get some of that fresh coffee?"
"Why, surely you may, baby," Jemima said in a mothering tone
and poured a steaming cup for her. "I told you all you have to do is
walk up to that and ask him what his problem is."
"But Jemima, it's God!" Angelica protested. "I can't hardly even
look at Him. How am I supposed to cop an attitude to Him?"
"I told you, baby, it's just a dream. The only way you can find
out why you have brought up this image is to ask it it's name. You
know what I mean. Find out why it's there and then you'll know. You'll
know, because is is from your mind. You'll know how to fix it," Jemima
told her as she smoothed a lock of her raven black hair back from
Angelica's forehead.
The woman's hand felt cool and comforting on her head. It
was the one touch that she welcomed in this place. She was suspicious
of the other girls' intentions, but Jemima was too down-to-earth and
centered for her to suspect her motives.
There was a mystery around her, but Angelica was sure
whatever Jemima was running from was the evil and not the lady
herself. That was why she didn't pry into the woman taking the name
'Aunt Jemima' or ask questions when something the woman said
contained hints of a life before she came to the Nevada desert.
There was VooDoo in her, hinting of a New Orleans past,
but contrary to all the teachings of her childhood, Angelica did not
fear whatever magic the woman controlled.
Andrew mulled silently over his untouched coffee. He knew
Madame LaCroix's past and knew she was far more dangerous than
Angelica could imagine. He also knew she meant the no harm and
that the secrets of her past were better left for the glowing revelation
much later in the show.
He noticed with a start that he had been staring at Angelica's
medium-sized where they were pushed up by her black corset,
considering the light brown circles of her nipples as they showed
through her nearly transparent wrap. He looked away. Surely he was
only marvelling at the Maker's handiwork, but he was supposed to be a
homosexual and he had a cover to maintain.
The afternoon had slowly started and puffed into the mild
maelstrom of preparation for the night when the doorbell on the nine-
foot tall mahogony front doors rang.
"Dammit, Janet, will you get that?" Madame Hickock bellered
from the parlour- still sporting her sparse, close-cut and graying hair without the benefit of her wig.
Janet opened the door and saw a doe-eyed redhead holding a
suitcase in front of her.
"Can I help you?" the in the business suit asked the
woman at the door.
"I'm Monica. I'm the new girl?" Monica said with a hint of
doubt.
"Didn't they tell you to use the back door?" growled and
then stepped aside to shoo the redhead inside.
"Jessica's replacement," said as she ushered Monica in to
see Madam Hickock.
"Welcome to the Coyote's Howl, I'm Madame Hickock" the
rouge-painted woman greeted Monica, "We'll meet later and go
over some of the house rules, but right now will show you to
your room."
Monica smiled nervously, curtsied, and then followed out
of the parlour.
Madame Hickcok watched the in amusement as she put on
her ingenue act and then sighed when she had left the room, "Where do
they all come from? And why do they all come to me?"
"What happened to Jessica?" Monica asked as led her up
the stairs.
"She a rich client and now lives in the lap of luxury in a
mansion in Beverly Hills. That's what all of you dream isn't it?" snapped, "She quit. You're allowed to do that. This isn't slavery. I don't
know where she went."
Their conversation was interrupted by a nude woman galloping
past them up the stairs, flying everywhere. She was shouting at
someone upstairs.
"Desi! You've got my crystal earrings don't you! If I catch you
wearing them, I'll rip them out of your bloody ears!" she screamed as
she passed.
"Some of the like to get ready late," snickered as the
bouncing butt disappeared around a corner.
"But you like to be ready early," Monica said.
"I'm not one of the girls," snapped.
"You don't work here?" Monica said, surprised by her tone.
"Oh yeah, I'm the one that does work around here. I have to run
this place- whatever the bat thinks, " said jerking her head in
the direction of Madame Hickock. "But I'm management, not talent."
Janet smiled to herself at the confused look on Monica's face.
Must be her first job, she thought.
"Madame Hickock will answer all your questions a little later.
Let's get you settled in." said, anxious to get rid of the new girl.
The room was simple, but with a warm feel. There was a closet,
a dresser and a bed. shooed Monica into the room, mumbling
something about unpacking and shut the door.
Tess stalked back and forth in the dusty desert heat. She turned
and stood with her hands on her broad hips as Andrew's figure emerged
from the shimmering heat on his way to her.
"Well?" she said, giving that one word the impact of a speech.
"Madame LaCroix doesn't want to go," Andrew said simply.
"Doesn't WANT to go?" Tess asked incredulous, "When did
you start asking them if they WANT to go?"
"You know this is a special case," Andrew replied, letting his
chagrin with his situation seep into irritation with Tess' question, "All
Hell will break loose- literally- If I don't handle her right."
"Then I'm supposed to sit out here in the sun until she decides
that she feels like dying? What's Monica going to do in the meantime?
This isn't the way it was revealed to me at all," Tess fumed.
Andrew shrugged.
"Should I ask her if she'll let you help out in the kitchen?"
Andrew asked.
If he wasn't the Angel of Death, Andrew would have been
intimidated by the glare from Tess at that suggestion.
Monica vaguely understood the use of the wardrobe in her
suitcase. For the most part the things resembled clothes she was
familiar with- but the leather- she was unsure which end of the infernal
harness was the top. She put the other unfathomable devices she had
found in the top drawer of the dresser and waited to meet Madame
Hickock. The door opened and a black-haired, Hispanic woman looked
in.
"May I come in?" she asked.
Monica nodded.
"I'm Angelica," she introduced herself, "Madame Hickock sent
me up to bring you down for your employment briefing."
"Hello Angelica, I'm Monica, the new girl," Monica said,
hearing the bell that told her Angelica was the she was
supposed to bring back into the Lord's fold.
"Boy, I bet you get a lot of customers with that cute accent,"
Angelica marvelled at Monica's brogue.
Monica shivered and bit her tongue. She wasn't ready for the
word 'customers' quite yet.
Angelica led her into Madame Hickock's study. The madame
was wearing her copper-colored pageboy wig now and almost looked
the fourty or so she was attempting.
"Another redhead," she mused, "I take it that is your natural
color? It's pointless to be different colors on each end, you know. Or
are you clean shaven?"
Monica nodded. Both were true as she understood them. Her
present emanation of flesh was defoliated in the armpits and legs in
accordance with the strange American custom.
"We only have a few rules, but because they are few, they are
rigorously enforced," the lady launched into her new speech.
"No smoking in bed. It's a hazard to all of us. If you smoke after sex,
you're doing it too fast. (pause for the giggle) No private 'deals' with
the customer. We feel we are generous in both renumeration and
benefits and making your own extra profits is only stealing from all of
us. This isn't a soroity. Everyone's possessions are their own and
'borrowing' them is just another way of saying stealing. We don't
tolerate thieves.
"The rest are more like guidelines. Don't hang around when
you're having your period, unless you have a client that likes that sort
of thing. Even then it is better if they ask for you and you stay in your
room. Regulars are like annuities. While we take no official stand on
stealing a regular from another girl, we will step in if becomes a
hindrance to our business. And I hope I don't have to tell you about
the joys of cleanliness," the lady began to wind down.
Monica nodded occasionally as the lady talked. There were
things she wasn't sure she understood, but cleanliness and not tolerating
theives were issues she had a handle on.
"So, where are you from?" Madame Hickock asked.
"Ireland," Monica answered.
"I mean, where did you work before?" the madame asked.
"I've never done this before," Monica said.
"Well, it's not like you're a virgin or anything," the lady said
and then paused with knitted brows at Monica's reaction. "A virgin?
you're kidding! What are you? Some sort of oral expert?"
"I'm sure everything will be all right," Monica said in faith.
"Well, I just don't see why God wants to go messin' with some
whore who is minding her own business and going about it all legal to
boot," 'Jemima' was spouting to Andrew.
"The Lord works in mysterious ways," Andrew told her.
She screwed up her face into a mask of scorn and snapped,
"Don't be giving me that crap Angel-boy, you and I both know there's
more to it than that. Only you know everybody's and I only know
the feel of something going on."
Andrew wasn't used to being challeneged. He wasn't used to
people who had no fear of him. And right now he was at this woman's
mercy. He was supposed to have already taken her. He had other things
to do and he was still hanging around here.
"But I never tell those things in the first half-hour," he snapped.
Tess was no happier sitting on a rock digging her feet into the
soft ground.
"Help her around the kitchen!" she snorted. "I'd show her what
to do with a meat cleaver. She'd be happy to see Andrew before I got
done with her."
Monica had heard about ancient Babylon, but somehow
that was so ancient that it didn't seem real. As she wandered around the
house she was constantly shocked at the immodesty of the naked
women parading their sex parts in full view. She was flushed with
embarrassment constantly as she saw the breasts, the buttocks and the
perfumed bushes of the other girls. There were some shaved naked as a
baby and Monica flushed anew as she realized what the madame had
asked her in the interview.
She wasn't sure if it made her a liar if she didn't clean her own
mound. She wasn't sure why she was reacting so strongly to the sight
of other naked women. She wandered in that daze and then found
herself in the kitchen Andrew was standing talking to a large black
woman, but Monica only noticed the two of them in passing. Her gaze
fixed on the coffee maker between them.
"Could I please have some coffee?" she asked politely.
"Well, who are you?" the black woman asked, and then studied
Monica for a moment. "Oh I see. Certainly lady. Help yourself."
"I'm the new girl. Jessica's replacement," Monica said as she
poured the lovely black fluid into a mug.
"You don't have to pretend with me. I know who- or is that
what you are," 'Jemima' told the angel, "You're this boy's friend and
you're gonna 'help' Miss Angelica."
Monica looked at Andrew questioningly and he admitted, "She
knows Monica, I was sent to take her home, but she doesn't want to
go."
"Now you're scaring the dear girl," 'Jemima' scolded Andrew,
"What he means, honey, is that I have dome some things for some
powerful beings on the other side and they are well-disposed to do
some things for me. I want to see what happens to my little and I'm
not about to leave until I make sure what she gets is what she wants for
sure."
"No matter what you did, you can always repent," Monica
offered, "God loves you and will grant forgiveness to all who earnestly
seek it."
"Lawdy, lawdy she is such a sweet little girl, isn't she?" 'Jemima'
said to Andrew, "I'm sure I could just love her to death."
Then to Monica, she explained, "I know you are right. And I
know God would protect me from those I would be offending, but I am
not sure I can repent for the things I've done. At least not sincerely,
because I'm not feeling I did anything wrong."
She held up her hand to cut off further discusssion and turned
back to the stove as walked in.
"Oh, there you are, I need to see you for a minute," told
Monica.
She took one more long sip from the mug and then got up to
follow Janet. She looked over her shoulder at Andrew, but all he could
do was shrug. At the stove Madam LaCroix was shaking her head in
amusement.
"I don't remember Madam Hickock asking you straight out, so,
are you a virgin?" asked as they again entered the study where
she had met the madame. Monica nodded slowly. nodded
abruptly and ushered Monica into the next room.
It was an examination room complete with adjustable table and,
Monica saw with a start, stirrups.
"Okay, I gotta confirm for the madame, take off your clothes
and get your feet in the stirrups," told her.
Monica blanched, but then wondered at her reaction. It was
only an examination. Whay should she be ashamed of being naked in
front of this woman? She opened her simple cotton dress and hung it
up. The rest followed and Monica got on the table and put her feet in
the stirrups.
Now it was Janet's turn to feel uncomfortable. She found she
was strangely drawn to the furry red-framed slit between the girl's legs.
There was an unnatural fascination her to the dainty pink lips
that parted modestly with Monica's legs held high and wide. She paused
with the speculum as she tried to figure out what had come over her,
but then plunged determinedly on, pressing the cold metal against
Monica's most tender parts.
This new vista of the earthly experience was certainly new for
Monica. She jumped when the cold metal touched her and then
squirmed as it was pressed inside her. Her eyes crossed when squeezed the instrument open.
It was all over in a minute and looked up at her from
between her legs with a quizzical, but satisfied expression.
"You can go now- but you better get ready. We'll be open in
another hour. You won't want to miss your first night," she told her.
"The child turned up at a whorehouse, saying she was one of
the girls, how do you expect her to be treated?" Jemima was asking
Andrew.
"See, this is the part where Tess straightens it all out," Andrew
countered, accusing her, "But she isn't here because 'you're not ready to
go yet'."
"And I'm still not ready," Jemima said defiantly, "But I know an
Angel-boy that's expected to play the piano for the whores in about half
an hour."
The marketplace- er- meeting room was a place of ruffled calm.
Small flurries surrounded the dribble of customers as all the paraded to be the choice as each entered the house. As Monica
came down the stairs, her eye was attracted to a of herself on a
sheet in a man's hand walking up to a bedroom with one of the girls.
"Don't you think they'll notice me?" she asked Janet, who was
passing out the papers to the in the room.
Janet handed her one. It read: Looking for a Good Home--one
virgin pussy. Below her it went on to offer Monica's virginity at
auction later that night. Until then, she will only embrace the French
culture, it finished.
Monica had not thought about facing this. True, she had been
sent to a whorehouse masquerading as a whore, but she knew the Lord
would lead her in whatever was required of her. She would need all the
help she could get.
She saw Angelica walking up the stairs with a and she
wanted to follow, but she was intercepted by Madame Hickock and a
man with slicked-back hair.
"Monica, meet Morgan, he wants to test you out before the
bidding. But remember, only a blow job. Your virginity is a precious
gift and they'll need to pay through the nose to to get it," the madame
told her.
There was no one shouting protests and Andrew was avoiding
her questioning stare as he played honky-tonk on the upright piano.
Morgan took her hand and led her up the stairs to her room.
"Well, let's get started," Morgan said as she closed the door,
"Strip down so I can see what I'll be bidding on and then you can suck
my dick."
This wasn't the way it was supposed to go, Monica thought, not
really knowing how it was supposed to go, but sure this wasn't it. She
fumbled with the zipper of her dress and by the time she had it down
Morgan was sitting on the edge of the bed with his pants off and his
hard cock pointing up at her.
"Don't be fancy about it, I'm hard enough already. Just get the
clothes off so I can look at you naked," Morgan said.
This was not the same thing as stripping for at all. It was
clear this had lustful intentions. But she really couldn't start to
glow on him to get out of it. He wasn't vaguely involved in her
assignment. Confused and frightened, Monica did as she was told. The
generous fullness of her pink-topped only swayed in their
firmness as she released them from her bra. And then she actually felt
Morgan's eyes on her skin as she lowered the slowly to revealy
the burnished copper bush that capped her virgin recess.
This place attracts too many Texans, Angelica thought as her
trick chased her over to the bed and then fell on top of her, carrying
both of them onto it. She was the lonly senorita all alone in the
hacienda and he was the brave Texan rapist.
"Aiee, chihuahua, muy bonita chiquita!" the was nattering
as he pulled open her blouse and mauled her through her bra.
"No- no por favor!" she whined as she put up a half-hearted
struggle to push the away from her.
He wasn't any more interested in her than the few quick
squeezes he had given them He instead quickly turned his attention to
pulling off her underwear and and pushing the transparent black wrap
out of his way. She could feel him hard behind the fly of his pants and
then a moment later feel his hot cock rubbing around the entrace to her
pussy as he pushed his pants down out of the way.
This was the rough part of being a whore. He forced his cock
into her dryness becoming more excited at her protests. This time at
least Angelica didn't have to pretend he was the greatest lover in the
world. She could let her natural reaction to his premature entry show
because that was what this wanted. She had no trouble trying to
squirm away as he forced more of his member inside her. It wasn't an
act. He really was hurting her.
Monica's ears were tuned to hear Angelica's whispered prayer.
Her cries for mercy were very loud in her head. That added to the panic
the novice angel was feeling from the other thing in her head- Morgan's
hard cock. She was kneeling by the bed as he forced her mouth down
over his erection with both hands. The hard prod was battering the
back of her throat as it tried to slip down her gullet and force her face
flat to his belly. And all the time he was calling her his little and sweet little whore.
"Don't do me too quick, get down and lick my balls" he gasped
and pulled her off the rod impaling her throat and pushed her face
down to the wrinkled sac beneath.
Monica's tongue came out partially in obedience to his
command and partly in grateful relief that his cock was no longer
choking her. She licked the hairy bag as Morgan sighed above her.
Her standard fantasy that she was in the arms of her lover
Ramon furnished Angelica with enough lubrication to make the Texan's
demanding thrusts bearable. But he was still sawing away over her and
taking much longer than Angelica wished. She put up a token struggle
from time to time to hurry him along, but mostly she just waited as he
fucked her on and on and on...
Faster- harder- now now now I'm almost there. Morgan was
guiding Monica's mouth up and down his shaft with his words rather
than his hands now. She was no longer thinking that it might be a
deviant act. She was instead grateful that he was allowing her to only
take what she could manage in her mouth and following his instructions
to maintain that state of affairs. She would think about the
consequences later.
Then one of the consequences splattered against the back of
her tongue and made her gag.
"Suck it! it all! Take it, bitch!" Morgan was yelling at
the top of his lungs.
Monica kept her mouth over the spouting member and tried her
best.
The Texan was pulling up his drawers while Angelica just lay
back trying to collect herself. She made sure to make a show of huffing
and puffing like he had been the best fuck ever, but in reality she was
just trying to collect herself before she washed off and went back
downstairs. She bid him bye-bye with a wave. When he closed the door
she turned over and tried to stop the tears forming in her eyes.
She knew why God wanted to talk to her in her dreams. He had
messages from her little pepito- her daughter. She prayed to Him and
He came to deliver the messages. But she knew what the message
would be- come home, mommy. And the crude Texan had tipped her
an extra $50.
She knew she had to turn it over to Janet. She even knew she
would probably get about $40 of it back, but the extra $10 would make
her trip home so much sooner. It was such a difficult thing.
The mouthwash didn't seem like enough. After brushing her
teeth, Monica decided that it was only the memory of the taste that
lingered in her mouth. Still, she thought, a cup of coffee would give her
another taste to help her forget.
She was on her way to the kitchen when she was intercepted by
Madame Hickock. Monica was re-directed into the meeting room to be
touted to the other prospective deflowerers. Andrew excused himself
to go out for a break.
"Tess! They're going to sell Monica!" Andrew called in a stage
whisper outside the back door.
Tess stepped out of the shadows and nodded, "I know. I just
don't know what we can do about it."
"What were we supposed to do in the first place?" Andrew
asked.
"I was supposed to be the new cook, Angel boy," Tess
reminded him, "And then I would be there to keep Monica from having
to work. I know a thing or two about making yourself sexually
unattractive."
Andrew looked at her and nodded. "So I go back and play the
piano and let them have their way with Monica?" he asked.
"Well, we can't have you killing everyone in the room," Tess
answered. "And you aren't the only angel on the inside. Maybe Monica
will have a good idea for once and get herself out of this predicament."
"Do you think you can tell me what we're here for now?"
Andrew asked.
"Sure, it's the second half hour," Tess said. "Angelica has been
praying for a way out of her life, but every time she is sent a vision, she
hides her head in her pillow and won't look. Monica is supposed to
assure her God loves her and has an important message
for her on vision-waiting."
Monica drifted over to the piano when she saw Andrew's subtle
arm-waving and finger-crooking. He gave her Tess' message about her
mission.
"Am I to understand it is up to me now?" Monica asked, her
eyes gleaming a little. "I can take care of it any way I feel like? Does
that mean I will be able to summon wind and fire and all that stuff?"
"Monica, we all keep telling you, that's not a gift. You have to
practice those things. You're as good as you get at it, so you're stuck
where you are until you put in the time to get better," Andrew
answered.
"Bravo, piano-boy," Madame Hickock said condescendingly as
she eavesdropped on the end of their conversation.
She took Monica by the elbow to lead her back into the center
of the room and said, "See, even a... piano knows that you need
practice and the best way to practice is to 'Just Do it' (Nike: make
check payable to WRJenkins@hotmail.com) But no one expects you to
be experienced on your maiden voyage."
Monica's mind was in a whirl. She knew what she was going to
say right off the bat. She had the scene as she revealed her aura and
delivered the news down pat. It was the when and where she was
struggling with. You don't want angels appearing in front of too many
people, or everybody would start believing in them.
And the clincher was that Angelica had gone off with another
client and wasn't available at the moment. Monica hoped there wouldn't
be another anxious to squirt his semen in her mouth again.
"Baby, you're the greatest," the fat with the efflusive charm
said as he finished buttoning his vest over his considerable roundness.
"You're the best here and that's not much praise for how good you
fuck."
Angelica smelled another generous tip coming, but was touched
by the praise as well. She new it was part of his charm to make her
believe his words, but she liked to think that she was worthy of such
praise too.
"And awaaaay we go!" he said as he bent his hands sideways at
waist level and sidled out the door.
It was that feeling of being a novice all over again. Monica
couldn't seem to stop anyone from bending her to their wishes. She felt
like a cork tossed on the waves for all the control she had over the
situation. Ever the entrepreneur, Madam Hickock had abandoned the
pursuit of another prosaic for the big-money sale of Monica's
maidenhood. She sensed she had the most bidders she would muster
and she wanted to get the big money now, before they spent more on
the other girls.
"$200," came an anemic bid- "$300," "$350," "$400," "$425,"
"$450," "$500!"
Monica had no idea how that translated into real value- let
alone what her innocence might be worth. But she had little interest.
The bidding was getting spirited and she feared she would HAVE to do
something soon.
The bidding had stepped slower up to $800 when Monica saw
Angelica walk down the stair. That was it. She was going to do it now.
She didn't know any better, she reasoned. She let her aura show.
"Angelica, I am an angel, sent from God to tell you that God
loves you and cares for you," Monica began.
"$2,000." Morgan shouted.
"I have $2,000!" Madame Hickock accepted, in awe, but not
enough to let a profit slip away.
"But I can't! I can't look in her little eyes. It breaks my heart!"
Angelica cried.
"God knows your pain, Angelica, and he wants to comfort
you," Monica told her, "But you have to accept His help and know that
His answer is always for the best."
"Thank you Monica, I will. I will." Angelica sobbed.
Monica waited for the fade. And waited...
"Not yet, Angel-boy," Madame LaCroix told Andrew. "I think
hat little angel should experience humanity before she tries to preach to
it. Let's let her get a little experience first."
Andrew sighed and threw up his hands, but secretly was
looking forward to watching Moinca get 'experienced'.
"I have $2,000- do I hear $2,100?" Madame Hickock said as
he emotional charge dropped in the room. And finally added, "Sold- for
$2,000."
Monica looked wildly around. No dove. No closing music. Hey!
Then she caught sight of Andrew and he shrugged. She wished she
could sing, so she could have joined the heavenly host.
Morgan took her by the hand and led her up to her room.
"An angel- a fucking angel- I'm going to be fucking a fucking
angel," he said excitedly as he pulled at her clothes.
"Morgan! Think what you're doing," Monica warned him in as
authoritarian a tone as she could muster.
"I can't stop thinking about it, baby," Morgan cooed as he
pulled her bra away from her large pillowy breasts.
His thumbs played over her nipples and they hardened. She was
an anotomically correct angel. Just touching the soft firmness of her
breasts made Morgan's cock throb with wanting. When he pulled down
her and placed her on the bed, he was even more attracted to
the red-furred slot than had been. He felt the same pull of beatific
vision that she had, but as a he was also driven to put his cock
inside the delicate pink flower and watch it to bursting as it
swallowed his cock.
Dropping his pants was the only foreplay he needed. He did
grant the concession to Monica of spitting on his fingers and wetting
the shocking pink entrance he was about to assault. Then he lay on
Monica and licked her tender pink nipples as his cock rooted around
for the passage between her pink little lips.
There was a spreading warmth in her chest from his attention to
her nipples. Monica decided that had something to do with breasts'
mother function. The hard knob prowling about her nether reaches was
another matter entirely. She was frightened of the potent feel of it
pressing into her.
Frightened wasn't enough to explain the feel as his cock invaded
her. It was more like: emergency! Her spread in ways she never
considered as something that felt like a baseball bat was shoved
between its lips. She was trapped in Morgan's embrace and beneath his
weight as the intruder invaded more of her precious space and seemed
to steal most of her precious breath.
And then he hit the membrane blocking his further progress. He
tested it a couple of times with a soft chuckle and said, "Goddamn!
You are a virgin! A fucking virgin fucking angel. Goddamn!"
"Don't swear!" Monica rebuked him and then screetched as his
cock ripped away the veil of her innocence.
It was in there now. She was amazed how close they were. And
she was surprised how quickly the nagging pain hid behind this new
feeling of being filled and possessed.
"This is great! So nice and tight. I'm going to remember this
fuck for the rest of my life," Morgan told her. "I doubted if you were a
real virgin, but now I know, I want to tell you how much it means to
me to be the first one with you. It really makes me feel great!"
Tinged as it was with self-interest, his profession didn't make
Monica any happier. Over the first overwhelming sensations, Monica
was beginning to think again as Morgan began to move the battering
ram back and forth with a feeling that was less and less intrusive and
more and more... but she was trying to think. This between her
legs had taken her innocence. He was having intercourse with her. She
was pinned under him and he was having his way with her- thrusting
and groaning as his cock took her.
He was filling her over and over. He was making her hot... She
tried to snap back to the big again. She was pinned down to the
bed as he... A strong thrust broike her concentration and she gave up.
She didn't want to strain anymore. She would let it happen and think
whatever she thought.
"Oh yeah- Monica, baby, angel baby, fucking angel- oh yeah,"
Morgan was panting as his cock hammered faster and faster into her.
She was finding it... interesting. And then she saw a figure to
her right. It was Andrew. She thought of the she presented and
then saw the nasty gleam in Andrew's eye.
"What are you doing here, Andrew?" Monica asked.
"Hey, buddy, this is private," Morgan gasped.
"Well, I..." Andrew started, obviously dragging it out so he
could look at the splayed naked Monica a little longer. "Have a pick-up
to make. Morgan, while you're cumming, you'll be going. I've come to
take you home."
"What?" Monica asked.
"Massive heart attack from the excitement," Andrew said as
Monica felt a warm wetness in her vagina. "He should have stuck to
screwing the wife."
As Andrew led Morgan's soul to meet its Maker, Monica heard
Andrew tell Morgan, "Usually I tell people that they have nothing to
fear from God, but, face it, you died screwing a woman not your wife. I
don't think He'll hold the fact that it was an angel against you, though."
Monica's shrieks were answered by Paramedics, the Coroner
and the inevitable police investigation. But it was heart failure pure and
simple.
"Right after Angelica makes her speech," Madam LaCroix told
Andrew. "I want to hear her stand up for herself."
Andrew took a deep breath and let it out in frustration, but
nodded.
"Thank you, thank you, Monica," Angelica was thanking the
angel, "I went to see what the Lord decreed and it wasn't what I
thought at all. Little Juanita was all smiles. I saw the vision of my own
whorehouse in Mexico where I can be with my and give her
that better life I've always wanted. And Jesus personally said He'd
watch over me. Knows the business, He said. Thank you thank you
thank you."
"There. Happy ending." Madame LaCroix said to Andrew, a
tear in one eye. "Now you going to come, or do I have to drag you?"
As Andrew and the lady fade, Madame LaCroix's scarf
drops- and turns into a dove.
END CREDITS
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