The Cuban Wives
by Edward Mitchell


INTRODUCTION 

Recent Miami riots are a grim reminder of the one hundred thirty thousand 
Cuban refugees who, fresh off the Freedom Flotilla, found America to be less 
than the land of milk and honey. Frustrated young men plundered and burned, 
venting disillusionment and the sadness of Castro's refusal to accept them 
back into Cuba. 

To lessen the threat of another Miami disaster, the refugees have been 
siphoned off into scattered army bases across the states, in hopes of 
finding sponsors to help them acclimate themselves to the community. 

But American zenophobia shows itself best when promises of welfare benefits 
to foreigners are whispered behind closed door meetings, and irate tax 
payers are reminded it is their hard earned cash that will be feeding a 
mouth that can't even speak English. 

Such was the case in an uptight Baptist community in Kansas when four 
thousand five hundred refugees descended upon the army base. The town of 
Lawrence went beserk with paranoia. 

A Nordic do-gooder by the name of Colonel Leo Nelson and his Cuban born wife 
Cora, courageously combatted the anti-Cuban forces led by the loquacious 
Mayor Dillon who was dead set against feeding illiterates who couldn't even 
sign a welfare check. The Federal Sponsorship Program sparked a chism 
between military power versus small town politics ... until the frustrated, 
frightened Mayor, confronted with explaining the shortage of welfare funds, 
resorted to violence. 

Cuban Wives is the story of how Cora Nelson became the tool of Mayor 
Dillon's regime to starve out the Cubans. Rape, extortion, fraud .. the man 
would stop at nothing to drive the welfare seekers from his town. His 
vengeful plot, aimed at Colonel Nelson's lovely Cuban wife, unravels a story 
of intrigue, suspense and hot-paced action promising to titillate the spark 
of sadism in all of us. 


CHAPTER ONE 

The novelty of shuffling Bekins moving boxes from shivering New England to 
steaming San Antonio, and now to this Kansas prairie land, had worn thin for 
Cora Nelson, wife of Colonel Leo Nelson. At first the social indoctrination 
into rigid military protocol intrigued her, gave the Cuban born immigrant a 
taste of American culture in its most rigid form. Now, upon calmer 
reflection and two years of forwarding mail, the distinction, thought Cora 
with a sigh, had lost its charm. 

Things might have been worse. She might have been Vietnamese like many of 
the lifers' wives. At least the Bay of Pigs incident no longer smelled of 
gun powder, though Americans still felt queasy about the Vietnamese 
Conflict. 

Cora, a socially conscious woman who shared her husband's staunch belief in 
relief for the needy, had created a women's consciousness-raising group for 
other immigrant army wives who felt lonely and ostracized. 

That accomplishment put her in the limelight on the army base. Her delicate 
fingers and tiny toes couldn't count the number of officer club affairs 
she'd hostessed or the grimances behind pot-bellied Colonels and Generals 
slinking their arms around her waspish waist and blowing smoke in her face. 
Now Cora Nelson, wife of the illustrious liberal-minded Colonel, wanted only 
to be a housewife. 

That simple request seemed impossible with a husband like Leo. Civic minded, 
reform-determined, he gloried in transforming military bases into what his 
adversaries termed day-care centers. It added up to endless telephone calls 
and late night meetings. 

They all have a part of Leo but me, ruminated Cora, flinging a shimmering 
flood of waist-length coal black wind-blown hair out of her eyes. The 
telephone could ring itself off the hook, but she wouldn't budge from the 
chaise lounge on this rare solitudinous day. 

A heavy sigh broke from her throat and inhaling the warm, dry summer air, 
she stretched one golden leg to drape over the plastic chaise lounge on the 
backyard patio. She turned it slightly so the sun could peek between the 
satiny flesh of her slender inner thighs and tan it to an even wheat 
perfection of the rest of her golden flesh. The naughty little pink bikini 
stretched with elastic tenacity across the firm curves of her slenderly 
proportioned body, from the strip of a strapless top that graced low in her 
cleavage between the melonous half moons of her breasts where all but the 
rosebuds of her nipples showed through the stretchy fabric ... down to the 
pouting mound hugged snugly in a handsized triangular patch, dipping 
dangerously below her navel to nip up the thighs, allowing a few fugitive 
black curls to peek out around the elastic legbands. 

A military man's wife? Few would guess it! None of the stiffness of army 
protocol froze the smile of this lovely wife, nor the weary lines 
crowfeeting her eyes, one for each Bekins move. 

Something eternally youthful shone in Cora's pearly smile. Coal black eyes 
which shone with diamond limpidity, round and innocent, set wide in a small 
face framed with straight, glistening black hair. Five feet four and one 
hundred and five luscious pounds of flawless flesh covering a petite bone 
structure, hardly appeared twenty-five years of age. The provocative glint 
in her eyes and the enviable figure set the generals' and colonels' wives' 
tongues wagging. Some believed the Colonel had falsified her immigration 
papers and had married a child bride. 

As she smiled up at the sun and stretched languidly on the warm, clinging 
plastic of the chaise lounge, her heavy breasts rose and fell with the lazy 
breathing of a warm Kansas summer day. She cupped a yawn. 

Rare days like this, when the neighbor's children weren't fighting on the 
other side of the picket fence and the dishes sat drying in the drainer, 
Cora began to feel a sting of loneliness. As her glistening body shimmered 
under the sun, she turned her concerns to her husband's numerable problems 
in his struggle to eradicate prejudism against the four-thousand 
five-hundred Cuban refugees house in the Lawrence, Kansas army base. 

The town was in an uproar! A big adjustment, playing mother to a camp of 
disillusioned, unemployed refugees it was for a town that prided itself on 
never having rented to a Mexican or Black. After the first month, the 
population had gulped down pride and backed by Baptist demands, hosted 
charities to raise funds for the countryless people and a massive church 
drive collected clothes and blankets ... all of which helped to crack the 
ice of zenophobia. 

All but one, that is. Lawrence's Mayor Dillon was deadset against aiding 
"any idiot who came to America expecting to collect welfare." He managed to 
amass a handful of powerful county welfare administrators to add ammunition 
to his battle against one Colonel Leo Nelson whose appearance in Lawrence 
heralded one hell of a nuisance. "The welfare funds will be drained," 
persuaded Mayor Dillon to television reporters. 'Taxpayers are getting 
another swift kick in the ass," he was reported saying at the Lawrence 
Fourth of July celebration in the village park. "We'll end up supporting 
immigrants who can't even sign a welfare check!" 

He hammered on the podium that sunny day, competing for attention with the 
Little League Softball Tournament enthusiasts. "How many of you here get 
food stamps?" He took a quick count while the people shyly raised their 
hands and the meddlesome gaped as secrets surfaced. Dillon shook a warning 
finger. "Add four-thousand five-hundred to that and guess who's not going to 
be eating steak, huh?" 

The church versus state became the bottom line. Military versus small town 
politics became the top line. The town flew into a tizzy. Though none of the 
citizens, including the fund raisers, had visited the army base camp, 
reports spread of violence, incest, starvation, rare diseases the army 
doctors couldn't cure. 

With military backing, Colonel Leo Nelson answered those charges of 
prejudism. He invited the press, the television station, the mayor himself 
... no response. Threats against his life rang in the middle of the night 
and he'd learned to drive very carefully outside the military camp. But 
federal government is the big daddy, and Colonel Nelson garnered his 
permission to continue his cause ... putting the screws to the mayor. 

And where is the Colonel now? wondered Cora, flipping over onto her back, 
Tuesday, wasn't it? Oh, yes, today he'd be meeting with the two town council 
members to sign a proposal, passed by the federal government stamp of 
approval, to start a program whereby the Cuban refugees would be allowed to 
find work. 

A pricklish situation that one! The plan involved finding local sponsors for 
the Cuban youth who, cooped up in dreary army barracks with no pool halls or 
cars for backseat amours, had vented unpent energy in Florida riots. By 
diverting that riotous energy, the Colonel hoped to prove to Lawrence 
citizens that indeed, these people were hirable and that if the youth can be 
trusted, most certainly their parents could. "Why not hire these youth, take 
them under our arms and show them America's Christians welcome them!" 
convinced Colonel Nelson. 

The word Christian was magic, for in truth, the citizens balked at the 
worrisome thought of welcoming foreigners into their homes. Hadn't they 
proven themselves God-loving by raising funds and donating old diapers? Must 
they come face to face? 

Cora's mind buzzed with these thoughts as the sun's rays played over her oil 
gistening bumps and curves. The telephone rang and she was about to spring 
for it, when the lazier part of Cora Nelson refused. Hadn't she fulfilled 
her civic duties at last night's officer's party, flashing smiles she didn't 
feel and sitting at opposite ends of the table from Leo? 

Opposite ends. Cora sighed resignedly. Would she and Leo always be 
separated, with the military between them? Army this, army that ... you'd 
think this were a communist country! Humanist that he was, Colonel Nelson 
was fired with ambition to climb up the ranks, and his lovely young wife was 
a handy tool. 

"I want you to laugh at General Daily's jokes tonight, honey. You know how 
uptight he is when he feels ignored. "Don't be upset if I'm not hanging on 
your arm ... there's always later," he'd wink, straightening a metal on his 
crisp uniform that never showed a flick of dandruff or lint. 

The promised rewards of bedded amours had a knack for evaporating into the 
night air. Like last night ... Cora couldn't count the nights she'd lay 
awake unable to sleep from the tingling frustration between her lovely, 
untouched thighs, a frustration from damnable abstinence, she would listen 
to the rustling sheets next to her warm waiting body, and hear Leo mumble in 
his sleep. Preening her ears for an "I love you ... "praying this would be 
the night to compensate for last time. Patriotism could only go so far, 
she'd whimper silently, hearing him mutter fragments from conversations with 
General Daily. 

On those soul-rending nights that chomped at her female ego, Cora would 
punch the pillow, defeated blaming herself for lack of compassion. Something 
was amiss, but what? she wondered, blinking back tears that never touched 
her satiny cheeks. Half the women on the base would desert their beds to 
slip beside the handsome, blonde haired, blue-eyed Nordic Colonel. If they 
only knew, she sobbed. General Daily's wife probably has sex more than I 
do-and she's sixty-two years old! 

Deep in Cora's tender soul a purl of something resembling resentment 
percolated and bubbled. Last night was the dead end.... 

Another boring party at the Officer's Club where the man dragged their wives 
for appearances' sake; the men smoking cigars and drinking gin up straight 
(on the rocks was unmanly), and the women sipping Tom Collins and whispering 
rumors. That military men had a penchant for foreign born women, irked the 
Cuban wife. Did the cigar chomping hawks think her subservient and easy prey 
because of her Latin blood? To add weight to the clumsiness, most of the men 
were husbands of women in her consciousness raising group! 

When Leo had finally pried himself loose of General Daily's foul jokes, one 
too many drinks puddled his gullet. Alcohol and fatigue were not kind to a 
man's bladder. 

When finally they stumbled home at twelve o'clock, smelling of cigar smoke 
and gin, Cora had rushed to the bedroom ahead and slipped into her black 
gown, a Christmas present from Leo. The dangerously dipping neckline plunged 
to the waist, the transparent black revealing the soft mounds of her 
breasts, and strawberry nipples. A drawstring nipped at her waist, and the 
swells of her hips and thighs made a tempting outline beneath. Her heart 
pounded triple time. On the ride home, Leo had toyed with her thigh and 
whispered epitaphs of lust second only to their wedding night. A night of 
good loving would calm his nerves and do wonders for her ego! 

Leo had headed for his den, a wood paneled room at the end of the hall 
overlooking the backyard. "Don't be there all night, please?" she'd cajoled. 

"No way, honey," he'd promised. 

Armed with that assurance, Cora added a perfumey touch, pulled the pins from 
her hair to let it hang sexy and loose, the way Leo liked it, and brushed it 
until it shimmered. Practicing in front of the mirror, she thrust out one 
hip so that the gathers spread and the diaphonous fabric gave a luscious 
view of her fringed mound of Venus. 

Cora slunk out of the bedroom, hoping to find her husband in the bathroom 
located next to the dressing room. She peeked in the closet, expecting to 
see his uniform hanging stiffly from the hangar. The two Tom Collins had 
worked on her, too, and second thoughts about blatantly seducing her husband 
brewed in her mind. 

Perhaps I should be more demanding, she decided. I'm clinging to my old 
world values ... American women are liberated and I'm an American! A vision 
of his loving penis sprang lewdly into her speculative mind. He was her 
husband, she had the right to seduce him! 

No spray of water sounded from the bathroom and, disgruntled, her tiny pink 
lacquered toes dug into and turned on the soft carpeted hallway, heading for 
Leo's den. Steeling herself for disappointment, she peeked inside. There he 
sat, his dress uniform jacket weighted down with brilliant stripes was 
draped over the back of his chair. Head bent, he scribbled something on a 
yellow legal pad. 

"Leo!" Her tone of voice shocked herself; Cora was not a demanding wife. "I 
thought you were coming to bed! You promised!" 

"Hi, honey." He grinned crookedly. He held up a silencing finger. "I'm 
almost done." 

Leo lifted his head and smiled disarmingly at his wife. Wide blue eyes and a 
straight proud nose gave an aristocratic tilt to his tanned face. An 
advocate of running, he covered eight miles of army ground at six o'clock 
every morning. He abhored sweets, refused cigars arid only drank socially. 
The results were evident in his lanky, square-shouldered masculinity. 

Cora's shoulders drooped in defeat. "Please...." 

"Jus' a few more figures to work out, and I'll be done," he assured. 

Knowing words were useless, Cora turned on her heel, the black nightgown 
clinging to her hip-swinging stride, and slammed shut the bedroom door. Hurt 
and frustration burned within her. She wanted to cry and pound her fists, 
but that wouldn't relieve the heavy congestion in the pit of her belly! 

With a frustrated sigh, she threw herself onto the king-sized bed and pulled 
the covers over her Goddess body, and tried to still her heart. Times like 
this, she wished she smoked cigarettes, but that, being one of Leo's 
unfallable rules would never be. Anything injurious to one's health was 
automatically censored in their house. Well, damn-a. good hard screw just 
might be good for the health once in a while! 

Minutes stretched into hours, and still no Leo. Cora blinked open one 
chocolate eye at the digital clock and balled up her fists. Throwing back 
the covers, she stomped to the wall light switch and adjusted the rheostat 
so that a pale yellow glow suffused the room. 

When he finally stumbled into bed, she wanted to know what time it 
was-ammunition for tomorrow morning's complaints! Back in bed, she lay on 
her side, studying her berry tanned Goddess like beauty in the wall-length 
mirror. 

Cora's critical eye studied the image of herself, wondering if Leo's lack of 
sexual aggression was her fault. Did he find disfavor with the full rise of 
her wide set breasts with the deep cleavage between the succulent mounds of 
tanned flesh; the way her lissome body swept into an incredibly tiny waist, 
with only the most gently enticing curve to break the flatness of her belly; 
the rich swell of her hip and ass cheeks and the fully triangle of 
blue-black pubic curls; and the long sweep of her slender thighs and legs, 
one leg drawn up higher than the other. Before marrying Leo, she had modeled 
in Atlanta, Georgia. She hadn't gained an ounce since marriage, so certainly 
he didn't think her unattractive. 

But Cora was more than a Cosmopolitan cover girl. She was a woman with real 
feelings and real needs-like the one burning in the pit of her empty belly! 

The insistent aching in Cora's fevered loins slowly fired to match the warm 
glow bathing her Goddess-like beauty. Shimmering blue-black hair cascaded 
over her tanned shoulders as she cogitated the temptation of taking on 
another lover. Army base grapevines had many roots and it would hurt Leo in 
the end. Onerous and pagan as it seemed, she would have to resort to that 
again. 

Practice makes perfect and Cora had perfected her moves. First, she would 
use her hand, watching herself rubbing her own swollen vagina in the wall 
length mirror. If it weren't for this oneristic ritual, she swore she'd have 
gone crazy these past months! All she wanted to feel was the plunging 
hardness up inside her seeping pussy, and if that meant using her fingers, 
then fingers it was! 

Sighing, the nearly naked woman turned on her back and cupped her ripely 
mature breasts in her hands, squeezing the soft flesh, teasing the puffy 
nipples until they throbbed into diamond chips. Her breath slowed, laboring, 
as her searching fingers slowly lifted the hem of her peignoir to expose the 
warm swells of her smooth unblemished body. Wanting this orgasm to last, she 
held back from contact with her pussy until it was unbearable, until she 
could feel the warm fluids begin to ooze from her pulsing vagina where the 
rich pink folds filled with blood to separate like a budding rose opening 
into a flower. One hand moved through the softness of her coal black curling 
pubic hair, barely touching, whispering over the begging, moistened cuntal 
slit. 

"AGGGGGHHHHH!!!" she moaned, her rich lips parting with mounting desire. Her 
slender, lacquered fingertips danced lightly over her curl-fringed pussy, 
feeling the oily droplets of cuntal juice forming along her pulsating 
vaginal furrow. Her hands moved to the ticklishly sensitive flesh of her 
inner thighs, caressing their berry-hued smoothness, and lightly she scraped 
the velvety skin with her fingernails as her entire body began to slowly 
undulate on the bed, her buttocks gyrating in tiny circules of lust. She 
realized then that she hadn't locked the door! Her stomach knotted at the 
fear of Leo stumbling in to find his wife shamelessly fingering herself. 

Cora's sloe eyes slitted. To hellwith him! Maybe he'd get the message! 

Knees raised, her long tanned legs splayed wide, Cora finally dipped her 
fingers into the seething folds of her cunt. A aaahhhh! Dripping and ready 
... but for something thicker than just her fingers! 

Burning with desire, the long-haired beauty spread the soft, swollen flanges 
of her moist pussy, arching her back and thrusting her pelvis upward. She 
traced the delicate line of her coral-hued pussy lips with the fingers of 
one hand, deliberately teasing herself with flicks of her long nails. The 
erect bud of her clitoris was her target and slowly, tantalizingly, she 
rubbed the sensitive knob with a circular motion of her thumb until it 
throbbed with lip-biting sexual desire. 

Then ... ahhhh! She stroked her fingers up and down the length of her cuntal 
slit, even into the crease of her tight ass cheeks until her fingertips 
brushed across the tiny puckered ring of her anus. 

Faster her hand moved, until the female juices of her unpent passion were 
flowing from deep within her womb, slicking her fingers with a sticky 
wetness. With an abrupt movement, she shoved her long middle finger all the 
way up into the steaming morass of her flexing cuntal hole, feeling her 
tight vaginal muscle clamp her fingers, milking them. 

Lord, how could Leo deny himself such pleasure! 

"Ohhhhh!" the lust-incited brunette gasped, succulent lips parting. Her 
finger was so pathetically inadequate, so small, so slender, when what she 
really needed was to have her belly filled with Leo's hard cock ... and how 
beautiful his cock wsa, too, thick and veiny. Furiously, she clenched her 
teeth and began to run her stiffened finger in and out of her deprived 
pussy, whimpering and flailing her shimmering hair in black waves with every 
brutal plunging stroke. 

One finger just couldn't do the job, she winced. Desperately, she plunged 
another up alongside her middle one, raping her well-lubricated cunt, 
stretching her vagina as wide as her husband's thick cock would have. It 
just wouldn't reach her cervix, wouldn't go deep enough into her ravenously 
sucking pussy to satisfy her yearnings. 

Whimpering with the need to cum, she thumped her thumb against her clitoris 
with every thrust, bringing her to the precipice of orgasm. Desperately, she 
scissored her legs and rolled onto her side. She reached behind herself with 
her left hand and split her ass cheeks apart, exposing the tiny ring of her 
puckered anus to the cool air of the blowing air conditioner. Frenetically, 
she put the middle finger of her right hand into her mouth and swirled her 
tongue over it, coating it with her own hot saliva. Arching her back, she 
thrust her smoothly rounded buttocks outward and pressed her moistened 
middle finger against her resisting anus. 

"Ahhhh!" Cora threw back her head and gasped as the finger stretched the 
stubbornly restraining sphincter muscle and popped into the wet depths of 
her rectum. Breathing deeply, she lay still for a moment before undulating 
her pelvis in a circular motion. Feeling her own finger buried in her anus 
was a totally new sensation for the love-deprived woman and, relentlessly 
she forced that finger deeper into the resisting hole, working it in and out 
until finally the palm of her hand slapped against her wide-splayed 
buttocks. Rocking her pelvis in slow back and forth motions, she screwed 
more savagely into her clasping vagina while her thumb thumped the tingling 
bud of her bloodfed clitoris. "Ahhh...." she shrilled and hearing her own 
screams of joy, clamped her pearly teeth over her rosy lips, frightened that 
Leo might hear. 

In the yellow glow she watched her hand as a dim blur flashing in and out of 
her puckered anus and could feel her nails scraping the sensitive inner 
flesh of her pussy and rectal passages, but the slight pain only caused her 
to increase the fury and violence of her manual fucking. It roiled in her 
veins ... she was ... was she? ... she was cumming!" 

A sea of fire spread like molten lava through her quaking belly, making her 
inner cunt muscles frantically clench and spurt gushes of thick, whitish 
cream from the lips of her burning hot vagina down over her red fingernails 
and insides of her slender, tanned thighs and dripped too, down the 
widespread crack of her spasming buttocks. 

She knew she should have used a towel; her lust would stain the sheets. But 
the rich aroma of her satiated pussy flared in her nostrils and she just 
couldn't pull her fingers free for such menial cautions. Both hands plunged 
into her straining vagina until she could cum no more without screaming. 
Finally, her swollen flanges could not stand the contact any longer; the 
bittersweet pain of orgasm had passed and the contact of her thumb on her 
clitoris was too electrical to bear. 

Drained, exhausted and ready for sleep, she fell on her back, breathing 
deeply, her black hair flooding over the pillow. 

And just in time! The door cracked open and Cora heard Leo slip out of his 
shirt, his shoes, his socks. Had he heard her moaning behind the closed 
door. Did he know what she was up to? For a moment she feared he might 
actually want to make love to her ... and there would be explaining to do 
... wouldn't that be ironic! But he tumbled exhaustedly into bed, the 
honorable army Colonel. Snores rumbled from his chest the second his head 
hit the pillow. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

At six o'clock the alarm rang vengefully, Leo, half asleep, leapt from bed 
and stretched his square-shouldered body. He slept in the nude and out of 
the corner of one chocolate eye, his guilt-ridden wife eyed the morning 
erection temptingly dripping with a pearl of pre-cum. 

Cagily, he read her thoughts; his eyes traveling down to the jutting pole of 
naked male flesh that should have been her nectar. Bitterly, she stared at 
his penis, but said nothing. 

"Jesus, I overslept," he complained yawning, knowing that to sink his 
hardened penis into her neglected belly would have soothed the ruffles of 
frustration he'd seen flickering in her eyes of late." ... gotta hurry if 
I'm gonna make my eight miles." 

"Leo?" She blinked at him, bracing her head on a crooked arm. "Are we ever 
going to make love again? I mean-" 

A corner of his full mouth twitched lecherously. "Sure, you wanna give me a 
little head before I-" 

Cora blushed as the mushroomed, purple head of his penis disappeared under 
cotton jockey shorts which he pulled up over his loins. She had never 
performed fellatio on him, although some of her female friends described it 
as being a sexual delicacy. Now she wondered how it would feel to bend over 
his hair-covered loins and draw his throbbing penis up between her soft lips 
and use her mouth like a vagina. I don't think my jaws would stretch that 
far, she thought speculatively, wondering, too, when she'd ever see his 
naked penis erect again. 

"Bye, honey," he farewelled, bending over to tie his Addida shoe laces. 

"Lot of chance you give me," she complained, dropping her head back onto the 
pillow in a splash of black on white. 

The sexually distraught wife of Colonel Nelson had just stepped into a pair 
of shorts and pulled a tee shirt over her naked bosom, when the telephone 
made its morning intrusion into solitude. Cora eyed it as if it were a 
dangerous animal. Harrassing telephone calls over the Cuban refugee issue 
rang night and day. In a sour mood, she plucked the receiver from its cradle 
on the nightstand, ready to give an irate caller a proper sounding out! She 
was in no mood for harrassment! 

"Hello!" she answered aggressively. Cheerfully, she recognized the soft, 
almost apologetic voice of Mayor Dillon's blonde haired wife. During the 
holocaust of upset following the announcement of the Cubans arrival and 
through the stormy days of debating over the Cubans" social welfare, 
ironically she and Joyce had become amicable friends. Part of their 
friendship, admittedly, commenced with political intentions. The citizens of 
Lawrence, Kansas must see that federal government and small town government 
worked hand in hand (though it was a blatant lie), and that animosities had 
dissipated. 

"Oh, hello, Joyce ... great, enjoying the sun...." 

Joyce, a ripe-bodied woman of thirty-eight who worked hard at maintaining 
once ravishing good looks, had found herself thrust into the public eye not 
by choice. She, like Colonel Nelson's wife, often commiserated on that turn 
of fate. 

"It's about the Cuban refugees," began Joyce with a sigh. "I've been having 
a devilish time trying to find anybody who'll let any of those stup-" Here 
she balked, coughed nervously and amended: " ... those poor people into 
their homes." 

Cora ignored the ethnic slur, with a sharp intake of breath and steeled 
herself for the predictable. 

"I was wondering, I mean you being from Cuba and all, if the community would 
respond better if somebody from Cuba...." she said, tossing the 
responsibility for the unwanted 4,500 Cubans back into the damned Colonel 
Nelson's lap. That her husband's power had been challenged by a newcomer to 
the army base that caused nothing but problems in town-rapes, drunkeness, 
was a hard pill to swallow. 

Deliberately, Cora let Joyce finish her own sentence...." H-how many 
teenagers would you like in your house?" 

"I really have no need for a housekeeper ... Leo never eats at home...." 
Cora's sloe eyes flitted through the glass patio door. "Someone to sweep out 
the patio would be helpful ... the air's so dry here, the plants just don't 
grow the way they do in Atlanta...." 

"Good! I knew you'd see my point, Cora," the raspy voice half-whispered, a 
voice which according to Lawrence grapevines belonged to an alcoholic. 

Delicately setting the receiver on the yellow cradle, Cora's stomach knotted 
with resentment. Naturally she empathized with the refugees and naturally 
she wanted to help them mingle in American society ... but dammit, she 
snapped her fingers, why should she be made responsible for an entire town's 
duty? 

The sun promised another scorching day and, wanting to catch an hour of its 
goldening light before its charring afternoon intensity, she slipped into 
her pink jersey bikini and preparing herself a cool Tom Collins with a sprig 
of mint, a habit acquired in Atlanta, she padded out to the patio and 
stretched languidly on the sun-warmed blue flowered chaise lounge. 

Civic duties melted from her mind and when the dark, brooding eyes of a 
stranger glared at her through the sliding glass patio door, Cora leapt to 
her feet in a fright. In a moment, she recognized the tawny Latin features 
of the Cuban refugee who'd come to clean her patio. 

She addressed him in his native tongue: "Hello, I'm Cora." 

She blinked when he answered in English. "I not stupid like Americans 
think," he challenged, cautiously studying her Cuban features with moodiness 
that hinted at resentment. 

Carlos was his name. Fifteen years of age, he claimed, though his eyes 
appeared far older, experienced, mature. Swirls of black waves covered his 
head, dribbling down over a tawny forehead with its liquidy eyes. A 
straight, almost aristocratic nose gave symmetry to his high cheek boned 
face and delicately chisteled jaw. 

His thorough, visual examination put Cora ill at ease. Following the trail 
of his piercing eyes she noticed she hadn't slipped into a shirt to cover 
her bikini-stripped, oil-glistening near nudity. Insolently his liquidy eyes 
raked critically over her lissome bumps and curves. She shivered in the 
noonday sun. 

Cora's lips parted, ready to berate him for entering the house without 
knocking, but fearing she might isolate the impoverished youth or that he 
might report her unwelcoming attitude to the Mayor, she invited him into the 
kitchen for a cold drink. 

With dirty fingernails, he ungratefully accepted the can of coca cola and 
threw it down his throat. She noticed the gold Catholic medallion shimmering 
like a sun on his golden, naked chest; he wore his garish polyester shirt 
(no doubt a cast off from some Lawrence citizen) open three buttons down, 
hinting at a potent masculinity-like the kind that started riots in Florida! 
Over the rim of the cola can, she followed his intense gaze to the upthrust 
mounds of her breasts and, with a horrified gasp, she realized the air 
cooled kitchen air had puckered her puffy nipples into erotic little 
bumblebees. His blatant stare brought a flush of embarrassment to her face 
and shooting him a chastising look in desperation to gain the upper hand, 
she strutted toward the bedroom to slip on a shirt. To fully dress would 
have justified his rakish stare. 

Clearing her throat, Cora stepped out into the patio, the sunshine playing 
like blue waves over her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck into a 
ponytail trailing down her rippling spine. The hem of her shirt graced the 
slender curves of her golden thighs. A red lacquered fingertip pointed to 
the dead leaves rustling about the corners of the patio against the fence. 
Shooting Carlos a cold, don't-try-that-again look, she said crisply: 
"There's a broom in the garage. I want you sweep up the dead leaves and put 
them in the trash can. Then you can water the plants and give them 
fertilizer." 

As she spoke in a dogmatic voice, she let his curious look pass off as a 
result of poverty and poor manners. Fleetingly, she wondered how he had 
managed to land on American shores. Had he spent months on one of those 
god-awful refugee boats, 'suicide boats' as CBS news called them, witnessing 
the death of babies dehydrated? What right had she to critize him, came the 
curdling thought. I was fortunate to have been born into money and become an 
American citizen. What future has this unwanted soul? 

Choking back hypocricy, she walked him to the garage where she pointed out 
the garbage can, the rake and broom. His eyes never left the golden 
cleavage, a hand stretch away. When he made no gesture toward carrying them 
back to the patio, she turned a puzzled gaze on him. 

"The peoples warns us not to go touchin' Americans' stuff...." 

Slowly, Cora nodded her head. "Of course." When she grabbed the rake, he 
quickly swept up the trash can and broom and followed her swaying buttocks 
toward the patio. 

Cora concentrated on his low, exact voice. The adolenscent was rife with 
pride, a kind of self-assurance that develops in youth when the discovery of 
sexual beauty creeps into the consciousness and childish clumsiness gives in 
to methodical precaution. Idly, she wondered if he had a girlfriend and 
wondered, since she'd left Cuba at age sixteen, if what they say about Latin 
lovers is true. 

Setting down the rake, she tilted her head slightly to take in his 
attractive swarthiness, letting her eyes trail from his golden chest with 
the chained medallion to the narrow waist and slender hips clad in faded 
denims. Had he worked in the sugar plantations, she wondered not wanting to 
demean his pride by asking what could be a condescending question. 

He brushed past her, his forearm creating pressure on the mound of her right 
breast. She stiffened, unprepared for the closeness of a stranger. Agily, 
she sidestepped, and turned on her heel. "I'll be in the house if you need 
anything, Carlos." 

Busying herself in the kitchen, Cora bent over, perusing the refrigerator 
for the makings of a tasty lunch. Gathering mayonnaise, yesterday's roast 
chicken, and onions in her arms, she righted herself and setting the armful 
on the counter, felt Carlos' eyes on her. Their eyes met for a briefing of 
unspoken understanding and to break the spell, she boldly confronted him. 

"I'm making lunch, if you're hungry. You must be about ready for a break," 
she suggested, standing framed in the glass sliding door. 

A faint smile brightened his moody swarthiness, adding youth to his 
premature manly looks. Dazzling white teeth flashing in the sunlight, he 
nodded, his eyes wandering over the oil-glistening swells of the 
aristocratic lusciousness of Colonel Nelson's wife's body. The smile on 
Cora's face faded into a cold glare of disapproval, before retreating to the 
kitchen. 

As she diced the chicken and chopped up olives, scallions and fresh herbs, 
dumping a blob of creamy mayonnaise into the bowl, she stole sidelong 
glances at his Cuban profile as he swept up the leaves and dutifully 
deposited them in the trash can. She noted, too, his shirt draped over the 
picket fence and her eyes trailed progressively to the sweat sheened, 
nakedly golden chest decorated with the shimmering gold medallion. As he 
turned, her eyes lingered on the strong, square shouldered back beaded with 
sweat. 

Blinding sunlight causing her chocolate eyes to squint into slits, she 
failed to notice that he'd turned to watch her eyeing him. The knife 
clattered to the floor and a tiny fist flew to her mouth. That insolent 
stare, hungry with curiosity pierced the sliding glass door to jar her 
consciousness out of its secure homespun niche. 

Her rubicund cheeks flushed apple red when their eyes met for that fraction 
of a second. Quickly she retrieved the knife and kept her eyes peeled on the 
bowl of chicken and condiments, for fear of their eyes locking again. Her 
hands trembled. Now why was that? Silly wasn't it? With the back of her 
clammy hand, she wiped a strand of black hair from her forehead and hastily 
diced up the vegetables, the tip of her pink tongue determinedly protruding 
between her pearly teeth, as she worked on the cutting board. You'd think he 
was a grown man ... he's only a child, she reassured herself, stealing a 
peek at the golden, glistening back rippling muscularly. 

She watched him carefully set the rake against the picket fence next to the 
broom, and picking up the full trash can with manly ease, he disappeared. 
Minutes later, she heard the front screen door bang shut. 

She felt, rather than saw him approach her from behind. His warm breath 
steaming heavily over her shoulder, the animalish scent of perspiration 
flaring in her nostrils. Something honest in that smell, she thought, 
shocked at her tolerance. Normally Leo's run-inspired perspiration revolted 
her, especially at laundry time when dirty t-shirts hit the hot suds. 

"I filled the trash can," he offered in a heavy Spanish accent. "We take 
break now?" He closed in on her, hot blasts of sweet breath whistling over 
her shoulder. "We eat after...?" 

After what? the question seared in her shattered mind. 

The answer came soon enough! 

Then Cora's body shivered as if the temperature had dropped thirty-two 
degrees and she gasped aloud, fear tingling along her nerve ends. Hands, 
sweaty, hot hands cupped each breast, caressing, possessing ... She gulped 
drily, shock rippling along her spine, paralyzing her for a terrifying 
moment before she managed to rip his hands free. 

"How dare you!" she spat, swinging around on her heel, eyes blazing 
accusingly into his mocking gaze. "Get your hands off me ... you...." 

His lips went taut. "You filthy Cuban ... that's what you were going to 
say!" he challenged, stiffening. 

"Nationality has nothing to do with it! I'm as Cuban as you are...!" 

In answer, came a sardonic, bitter laugh. His mauling hands shot back up to 
her straining breasts and taunted the puffy nipples, despite her tiny 
fingers clawing and prying at his determined hands. "You are a hungry 
woman," he hissed between barred teeth sensuously: "In Cuba we plantation 
workers fuck in dirt!" 

The passion in his voice, the deliberation of intent, steamed through the 
anger, leaving her to float on a cloud of unwanted sensuality ... too 
reminiscent of last night's torpor ... rushed through her warmed veins. 

She struggled frantically against his steely grasp, but a weak-kneed fatigue 
she blamed on the sun seeped her energy. To insult his manly pride could be 
dangerous, not to mention any negative reports trailing back to the Mayor's 
office which could abort the carefully laid plan to help the Cubans 
assimilate into the community. One instance of recklessness could effect 
45,499 people ... and it would be her fault! 

Cagily, Carlos maneuvered around to face the dumbstruck Colonel's wife, 
backing her into the L-shaped corner next to the refrigerator. His hands 
rapidly lifted to her soft, warm breasts, squeezing, massaging, tormenting 
... Cora's eyes squeezed shut, trying to shut out the sensations ricocheting 
around her neglected body. She felt his eyes studying her every twitch of 
the mouth, the fluttering of eyelids ... and he knew, damn him, he knew! 

Carlos had seen that look on many a plantation whore's face, the look of 
white hot passion. Not love, this ... lust. Grinning, a slight ripple 
curling his full upper lip, he decided America had more to offer than 
unemployment lines! Pinning her to the counter, he tried to pull her toward 
him so that her chin was resting on his naked, hairless chest. 

Cora resisted, pushing her tiny hands against his muscled chest and grunting 
feverishly. Didn't he understand she wasn't a peasant whore ... she was a 
married woman and responsible, in part, for the good will Lawrence Kansas 
bestowed upon these unfortunates? But the warmth of his palm insinuating 
itself under the loose flap of her shirt, probing under the tight elastic 
band of her bikini top, was downright cause for screaming. 

She sucked in her breath. His hot sweaty hand was squeezing the bare flesh 
of her breast, tracing a tremulous path with strong fingers around the 
hardening nubs of her nipple. Her heart thudded as his fingers gave a tug 
and slipped the right cup over the quivering mound. Shivers chilled her as 
she felt the cool rush of air goosebump the tender surface. Cool flesh 
against hot skin ... Cora's eyelids fluttered like butterfly wings. A whine 
broke from her throat as he pinched the hard bud of her nipple torturously 
between his dirty fingernails. 

With a salacious grunt, he mashed his fleshy lips to hers, flattening and 
spreading his lips open until his tongue jabbed deep into her throat. 

"Mmmm ... aggghhhh!" she resisted, twisting and squirming to free herself. 

But he held her fast, pinned her back against the countertop. 

A frightened hollowness came alive in the pit of her stomach, and one tiny 
struggling hand fell from his muscle rippling chest to grope amongst the 
torn lettuce and sliced chives for the cold knife blade. 

Carlos had survived the Cuban refugee boat for a reason. As Cora's slender 
fingers touched the safety of the knife blade when a steely hand clamped 
over her wrist. "Drop the knife!" he commanded and grabbing it, hurled it 
into the kitchen sink with a deafening smash of broken dishes! 

"P-please, Carlos!" she begged, sensing the danger. 

But his hands kept stroking her, moving down the length of her svelte torso, 
kneading the softness of her belly through the fabric of her shirt. Cora 
sputtered and fought, but his hands traveled down to the base of her belly, 
his fingers rotating against the hair-puffed mound of her vagina, teasing 
through her bathing suit at the narrow crevice between her legs. Cora's 
breath came in short gasps and the burning sensation was beginning to grow 
in maddening intensity. Her bikini bottoms felt soaked between her thighs 
and she squeezed them together to cut short the tingling sensation building. 

Trapped against the countertop, his young fingers worked against her warm, 
pulsating cunt and, in a last gesture of resistance, she grasped his waist, 
but it failed to stop his manipulating hands that seemed to have a thousand 
fingers playing over her vulnerable flesh. 

His strong fingers moved freely, pinching and teasing at her belly and the 
pouting mound between her legs until she thought she'd scream from the 
damning bolts of pleasure coursing through her veins. His touch was not 
gentle as Leo's. He pinched hard the rubbery tips of her breasts, charging 
her body with flashes of pain and pleasure. Again he mashed his flesh lips 
to hers, nibbling at her lips while his tongue flicked moistly in alid out 
of her mouth, aborting any chance of wiggling out of his clutch. 

"I want to fuck you," he muttered in Cuban. He ground his bumpy pelvis 
against her thigh, sliding his hand around to the curve of her buttocks as 
if to yank her body closer to him. 

"No ... no...." she moaned, bracing her hands to shove him away. Cora's 
fingers touched something hard and metallic and a whine of pure horror spat 
through her teeth as her fingers traced the outline of a knife tucked in his 
belt. No ... he wouldn't try to-Would he try to hurt her ... how ironic ... 
one Cuban knifing another! 

He swept her up in his arms before she could mutter a reply, and shouldering 
his way through the kitchen's louvered doors, dumped her on the living room 
sofa like a sack of potatoes. 

"Get naked!" he spat between barred teeth. "I wanna see that hot body you 
been flashing in front of me all day ... makin' me feel like a rapist!" 

Whimpering, Cora cringed into the sofa and covered her face in her hands. 
She wept until the metallic whine of a zipper stung her ears and peeking 
through her fingers she watched her tormentor yank down his pants, pulling 
his underwear in one easy swoop. The jutting, golden stalk of his young 
penis sprang into view as if on springs. Her chocolate eyes shot toward the 
door and in one leap, she bolted from the sofa. But he caught her with a 
menacing look in his gleamy black eyes. "Don' do that again," he growled as 
he held her fragile arm with one muscular hand, his knuckles white with 
strain. "Take off your clothes!" 

"N-No ... please!" But he grabbed his sher shirt by the lapel and ripped it 
off her shoulders, wadded it up in a ball and tossed it across the room to 
lay in a heap-like Cora's self respect at this moment. 

Her bikini top joined the heap. He sighed in obscene appreciation as her 
tanned breasts burst free. Kneeling before her, he hooked his fingers in her 
bikini bottoms and peeled them over the smooth flare of her naked hips, down 
over her lovely calves to puddle at her slender ankles. 

Cora shivered nakedly and crossed her arms modestly over her breasts. Those 
hellishly piercing eyes ... are eating me alive! God knew what this sex 
maddened Cuban would do if she didn't submit. Where could she run naked as 
the day she was born ... oh, that would make for juicy gossip, indeed! 

Clenching shut her eyes and feeling them sting hotly, she bolted, her eyes 
springing open. The golden bodied boy had lowered to his knees and bending 
his head, was nibbling at the nude flesh of her belly. "Nooo!" she whined, 
flailing her head on the white sofa pillow. "Don't ... I...." 

Instantly she arched her back, pin pricks sizzling along her nuditly as his 
fleshy lips moved lower toward her pubic area. Her mouth had gone dry and 
dry little hisses uttered a feeble resistance. Warm breath bathed her naked 
genitalia caressingly and his lips dropped to the black tendrils of pussy 
hair and, spreading the soft curls with his thumbs, he flicked his tongue 
snake-like into the moistness of her pussy. 

The electrifying contact against the oil budy of her clitoris sent shock 
waves bolting through her. Sucking in her breath against the sweet agony, 
she closed her legs. It was female strength versus male machismo as he 
clamped his sweating palms on the soft insides of her thighs and pushed them 
apart like a roast Thanksgiving turkey. In terror and utter mortification, 
she struggled to close her legs, but every kick and twist brought a grunt of 
protest from Carlos and more bruises on the insides of her thighs. 

But the physical pain was nothing compared to watching his moody black eyes 
leering seductively up at her through the fleshy valley of her golden 
cleavage. Paralyzed with guilt and fear, the Colonel's wife lay breathlessly 
still, helplessly watching his pink tongue lick and swathe her pussy. 

The feel of his warm palms moving up along the smooth fleshed inside of her 
inner thighs made goosebumps raise along her spine. With his thumbs he 
deliciously spread open the moist lips of her cunt and blew warm air over 
the exposed nakedness of her cunt. For a lingering moment he stared hungrily 
at the rosehued flesh and a growl of appreciation, peasant-like and virile, 
bubbled in his throat. 

"No ... ohhh God ... not that!" she moaned as his hot, moist lips clamped 
over the mound at the base of her smooth muscled belly. His swarthy face 
buried into the soft tendrils as he smothered wet, sucking kisses, while his 
tongue flicked teasingly at the sensitive opening. "Please ... don't," she 
begged in a small voice. "Leo has never-" 

In shame and bittersweet agony, she moaned as he blew hot air against the 
tingling vaginal flesh. With a lewd grunt, he buried the ticklish length of 
his tongue into the warm throbbing hole. Her body spasmed, a groan escaping 
her chest as she ground her buttocks into the sofa, trying to pry loose his 
devouring mouth from her vulnerable genitals. Stars sprinkled before Cora 
Nelson's eyes, her eyelids fluttered and in a deep, dark corner of her mind, 
she mentally transformed the seductively leering Cuban features into the 
blonde haired Nordic good looks of Colonel Leo Nelson. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

The trapped, shivering wife clenched her teeth and her sweaty palms gathered 
the soft tweed of the sofa in desperation. His tongue shot up between her 
open thighs, sucking noisily, licking, drawing the warm soft folds deep into 
his hot mouth, his tongue flicking maddeningly at the oily marble of her 
clitoris until she thought she would die of electrocution! In agonized 
disbelief, she watched as the Cuban refugee with the dirty fingernails 
slaved over her loins in a way Leo never had. A shock of glistening black 
hair hung over his swarthy forehead arid she watched his curly black 
eyelashes flicker. 

Idly, she wondered how many young girls he'd ravaged in his time. That was 
one practiced tongue licking away at her genitals! A tickle of something 
akin to jealousy bubbled in her aristocratic veins at the thought of him 
giving away all that sensuality to lowly peasants when she'd been needing, 
crying for this kind of attention for months. But not at the hands of a 
Cuban refugee! her mind rebuked pridefully. 

He was starved for her cuntal juices. Not since the sweetheart of the sugar 
plantation had sucked him off in a corner of the unburned field, groveling 
in the dirt, had he tasted cunt juice ... and it tasted damn good! The feel 
of her soft pubic hair brushing against his hot cheeks bloated his power of 
machismo. Her groans drove him on, working his way up and down the hair 
fringed split of her cunt. He wanted her to cry for it, beg for his thick 
cock up in that hungry belly of hers. Who the hell her husband was, he sure 
wasn't doing a good job of keeping his wife satisfied. Why else would she be 
running around the house half naked? 

Guilt and horror bubbled in Cora's veins as unwanted jolts of ... yes, it 
was pleasure ... richocheted in her shivering body. Her nipples, she noticed 
with horror, had puckered up into diamond chips-just like when Leo sucks on 
them! Leo-Leo would put her before the deserter's firing squad for this! 
"Noooo ... please ... nooo...." she sobbed. "I'll give y-you money ... all 
... the m-money you w-want ... I...." Her teeth were chattering from the 
agonizing, self-denegrading pleasure of this refugee burying his face in her 
married cunt! 

His hands stroked and pinched and caressed the smooth flatness of her belly 
to grasp harshly at her breasts. When he lifted his head to swab the jewel 
of her navel, she nearly cried salty tears. His dirty fingernails dug into 
the white flesh of her breasts and pulled at her nipples as if trying to 
screw them off. Staring at her through the white mounds of her breasts, he 
smirked with victory. He knew worrien ... didn't matter if they were worked 
in sugar fields getting their feet dirty or laid on their backs in the sun 
all day, they cried for a domineering man to lick their cunts! 

As if watching him defile her womb wasn't bad enough, the slurping, 
peasant-like sounds rising from between her silky legs brought a blush to 
her cheeks as she bit her lip and gallantly tried to will away the tingling 
maddness building in her loins. She stiffened. 

He slipped his hands under her buttocks, pulling and squeezing the firm 
flesh as his tongue and mouth ground deeper into her seeping cunt. A hidden 
instinct she didn't know she possessed made her jerk her pelvis upward, 
giving the boy's raping tongue access to her moist hole. Without warning, he 
flicked the tip of his hot tongue into the tightly puckered privacy of her 
rectum! 

"Ohhhhhehhhhh!" That animalish gesture tore a scream from her lips and she 
frantically screwed her buttocks down into the sofa cushion, away from that 
ravishing tongue probing at her most private parts. She broke out into a 
humiliating sweat when he chuckled lewdly at her response and stabbed deeper 
into the tight fleshy ring. 

Cora ground down into the sofa, soft mewls of capitulation bubbling from her 
tightly clenched teeth. Her mind took one road, her body the other. This was 
adultery ... but dear God, forgive me, it feels good! At least he's not 
beating me ... oh, that would be terrible! I don't have to tell Leo, as long 
as this boy doesn't hurt me. 

Her body spasmed and jerked and rose and fell and thrust and ground as the 
sex starved housewife arched her back and ground her seeping pussy flesh 
into the Cuban refugee's saliva glistening face. Her hands drifted down over 
her throbbing swollen breasts and fluttered over her smooth flat stomach to 
entwine in the greasy dark curls falling over his proud forehead to tickle 
her naked belly flesh. With a grunt of desperation, she pulled his head 
deeper into the steaming morass of her cunt. 

"Uggghhhh...." grunted Carlos, flattening his nose against the bud of her 
clitoris and sucking babyishly. Christ, the way she was smashing his head 
into her genitals, air was scarce as roast beef on me refugee ship! To tease 
her, he slithered his thick wet tongue deeper and harder into her hot, 
throbbing pussy, listening to her deep grunts like some alley cat on a full 
moon night. His calloused, plantation-roughened hands flew wildly over her 
squirming nakedness, moving smoothly from the tanning oil slicking her body. 
He poked at her clitoris and asshole, driving her to a hysterical state of 
eroticisim as his tongue fucked into her like a snake digging a hole. 

Dear God in heaven! Would she live through this orgasm? she wondered, sweat 
beading her satiny forehead, cooled by the air conditioning blowing from the 
vent above. Stars sprinkled before her eyes and her heels drubbed into his 
muscular back, pushing him closer to her as the need to cum became a painful 
one. 

Her toes and fingers went numb and she couldn't stand one more second of his 
tongue electrocuting her clitoris! "It's ... I'm ... ohhhh, God ... I'm 
cummmmming!" Jerking and spasming against his sucking mouth, she ground her 
cunt against his face until his hairline blended with her black 
cum-slickened pussy curls. 

Mouth hanging open in a silent scream of bittersweet agony, eyes clenched 
shut, Cora gasped out her orgasm and collapsed back down into the sofa, 
dropping her legs on either side of the Cuban refugee's curly head. Slowly, 
he pulled his head free of her genitals and smiled a cum-glistening, 
saliva-smeared grin. 

Cora shivered, blotting out the pleasure still sizzling in her loins. At 
least he'd only used his tongue. The thought of a Cuban peasant's squirming 
male seed dripping from her ravaged cuntal lips was unbearable! She fought 
for composure. As the stars sprinkled and fell one by one before her eyes 
and blurry vision solidifed to form the striped wall paper on the living 
room wall, guilt and scalding tears obliterated clarity. 

With an aristocratic sniffle, she braced her arms on the sofa and started to 
rise. Stroking back sweat matted strands of shimmering hair beaded to her 
forehead, her taut lips spat: "Now get out of here! How dare you!" 

He started babbling viperatives in his native tongue and shoved her back on 
the sofa. "I'm gonna fuck the shit outta you!" 

"W-what?" Her jaw fell, her head whirled from the impact of his words. 
Nobody had ever said anything that obscene to her-not even Leo in his 
foulest mood. Leo-dear God, he would be home in forty-five minutes, she 
wailed silently, casting a desperate glance at the Grandfather clock ticking 
away guilty minutes. 

"But my husband...." she whispered. "Fuck your husband...." 

"How can you say that after all he's done for your people?" challenged Cora, 
rising again and staring him in the face. 

She didn't see it coming, but felt the hand slash brutally across her face. 
"What the hell do you know about waking up hungry in the morning and finding 
no work so you can feed your sister! What the hell do you know?" he 
screamed, livid with rage, bellowing in Cuban. 

His lust contorted face screwed up tighter with evil intentions. Was it her 
imagination, or did his golden manhood bloat another inch from anger? He was 
ripe on raping her and as her eyes traveled down his broad chest and stomach 
to his hard jutting penis, tears spilled down her cheeks as she realized the 
oral rape had merely been his appetizer. 

With shocks of greasy black hair spilling over his sweat beaded forehead, he 
glared at her through dilated pupils. "Put it in," he muttered in Cuban, 
debasing her where he knew it would hurt. 

Cora could only blink her searing, wet eyes. Was he crazy? She'd been 
taunted plenty by hot blooded American males, but to have one from her own 
country defile her in her own house was downright humiliating. 

"Never!" she spat. 

Whack! 

Cora's hand flew to her reddened cheek. Begging would do no good and looking 
into his lust-flushed face, she realized he thought her a common alleyway 
whore. The breath was knocked out of her as he swung one muscular leg over 
hers to position himself for the ultimate defilement of Cora Nelson! 

The stinging slap rattled her senses and the better amongst them screamed, 
PUT IT IN BEFORE HE DOES YOU IN. Tremblingly, she reached down to wrap her 
tiny hand around his young manhood, feeling both awed and terrified by his 
size. Shuddering, she closed her eyes and guided the stone hard hunk of male 
meat into the valley of her buttocks, posing it between the swollen, 
bloodfed lips of her cunt. Grasping the smooth, rubbery head between her 
thumb and forefinger, she placed it at the edge of the moist, hair fringed 
hole and gasped as the first soft thrilling contact against the ragged edges 
of her pussy. 

He grunted slavishly and began to push against her, painfully pressuring 
against the tight opening of her seldom-used married pussy. 

"Aaaggghhh!" she groaned and the throbbing head forced its way into the 
moist elastic lips until Cora felt the tender flesh nearly tearing from the 
shredding strain. "Stop!" she yelped pathetically and, when he kept 
pressuring, boring into her, she sputtered up into his face in Cuban to stop 
pushing so damned hard! Cora's tanned legs jerked out on either side of his 
golden body, kicking futilely into the air. She snarled up into his taut 
features, a mask of peasant lust, and all hopes for freedom faded. 

With low moaning grunts, he forced his penis into her pussy, filling her 
inch by tearing inch. Then, when his thick cock was only peeking inside the 
fringed hole, he threw back his head and rammed it in with all his bullish 
strength, sinking his young cock in until it smacked against her tender 
cervix. It gored into her pussy, pushing the soft, moist flesh of her cuntal 
walls before it until his balls smacked heavily into the crack of her naked 
ass. 

Cora gulped dryly. Was he trying to bore it up into her intestines? She 
could feel his cockhead bloat and thump against her cervix and her gorgeous 
features wrinkled with pain from his cruel lunge. Carlos glanced down 
between their sex-joined bodies and saw his curly pubic hairs tangled with 
her black ones, the gleaming base of his glistening thick cock buried 
between the pink moist lips of her wide-stretched pussy. 

God, he wished the guys from the Freedom Flotilla were here to see this! 
Carlos, the plantation worker, fucking the Colonel's wife and being paid for 
it, too! 

And if the Mayor wasn't talking out of his ass, maybe Ricki and Juan would 
get a crack at her ass, too. 

Cora grunted, trying to force his penis out by flexing her tight vaginal 
muscles; but each throb seemed only to incite him more and she felt him 
growing even larger inside of her. His balls were enormous, weren't they, 
for a boy his size, she speculated. The hairiness of his testicles brushed 
against her sensitive clitoris with every lunge, and there wasn't one ridge 
or vein that she couldn't feel. Her hungrily sucking cunt squeezed him 
glove-tight. Far up into her married belly burrowed that rubbery knob until 
it throbbed against her spongy cervix sending bolts of pleasure-pain 
coursing through her every vein, every ganglia. 

Deliberately, Carlos throbbed the stiff rod in the steaming depths of her 
tight vagina, stretching the vaginal walls until the receptive tissue became 
accustomed to the pain as it subsided into a dull throb. 

Cora's fists balled up in agony; she moaned, flailed her head, muttered 
undecipherable phrases as he flexed again. This was one Cuban, she realized, 
who'd been born fucking! God forgive her for thinking it, but he was bigger 
than Leo! 

As he set a rhythm to his fucking, humping back and forth over her 
spread-eagled body, the gold medallion thumped against his chest. He had her 
now, watching her nostrils flairing and heard her soft grunts of pleasure 
filling the living room. The sofa squeaked as her pelvis began an 
involuntary rocking motion beneath his throbbing cock. 

Instinctively, the Colonel's wife drove her buttocks upward, grinding into 
his pelvis, but he stayed immobile, his weight pressing her down into the 
sofa. She was pinned, trapped and frustration and fiery need drove her to a 
hysterical level of lust. 

"P-please...." she pleaded. 

Carlos cocked his head. Please ., . did that mean please do, or please 
don't? Watching her lust-contorted face lose its beauty, he read the need in 
her flinty eyes. Sweat trickled down his cheeks as he fought the need to 
unload his sperm right then. A lascivious, mendacious grin broke out over 
his face when she started to grind her buttocks into the sofa and squrim 
beneath him to taunt him out of immobility. 

"Wh-why ... aren't you...." she swallowed ryly. 

"What? Fucking you?" he spat. 

That she wanted it as bad as he, poked through her aristocratic ego. She bit 
her lip, stopping herself from crying out in need. 

Carlos' balls churned with cum. His dirty fingernails dug into her golden 
shoulders as snarling, losing patience, he shook her body until the ribbon 
fell from her pony tail. 

"Y-yes ... I mean I...." she moaned in guilt and need, knowing she would be 
forever damned if she relented to this ungrateful peasant. Her weakness 
sickened her, but her aroused body had a stronger need. She needed 
relief.... 

With an evil snicker, Carlos levered himself in a push up position and 
slowly withdrew his cock until only the mushroomed head rested within the 
moist, glistening slit of her tender pussy. A fresh wave of red hot lust 
scorched within him as he felt the friction of his penis against the moist 
cuntal walls; he rammed forward so hard he swore he'd cracked her pelvic 
bone. The rubbery cock head pushed the flesh of her warm, sucked pussy 
before it like buttered velvet, until all of it was fucked up into her 
heaving belly. 

Cora groaned and flashed open her wet eyes as she felt his hands clamp her 
trembling, sweaty ones around his biceps, in a triumphant gesture of rape. 
Lacquered fingertips clawed at his bulging biceps as she clung to him, 
riding his bucking motions in rhythm. In reward, he worked to please them 
both, fucking in and out with long smooth strokes. The sofa shook beneath 
them as Cora, grabbing onto his muscles for dear life, rose to meet each 
ball slamming thrust, working her buttocks higher and higher to get more of 
his young Cuban cock. 

"Christ, you're tight!" he breathed, sweat dripping from his forehead as he 
drove faster and faster into her with a frenzy that sent her head banging 
into the sofa arm. His barred teeth showed white under a curled upper lip 
and his lunging hammering thrust dug him deeper into the Colonel's wife's 
cunt. Grabbing her shoulders to pin her flatter to the sofa, he kept her 
from moving until Cora thought she would go into hysterics. She strained 
upward, clinging to his arm's bulging muscles, heaving her belly in white 
hot passion, driving him deeper and deeper into her screaming body. 

Was this Cora, she blinked in shock, grinding her hips and buttocks in 
indecent circles while a dirt finger-nailed refugee fucked into the sacred 
hole of cunt? "Noooo!" she screamed, feeling her second climax come raging 
in like a deathly tidal wave. 

Carlos, too, felt his body shaking with the incipient signals of orgasm: His 
pulse raced, sweat poured from his forehead, facial muscles went tight, eyes 
bulging out of his skull. Together the two golden skinned bodies worked and 
thrashed against each other, smacking into each other's groins as if trying 
to kill each other. And Carlos began to wonder if that weren't the case. 
This Cuban was too much for him. She thrust upward as if her pelvic bone ran 
on batteries, sucking and massaging his powerful prick with secret muscles. 

The breath whistled from Cora's lungs, lungs burning for air. Cries of 
torture, sweet wonderful torture were ripped from her soul. I'm cumming 
again! she thought with a combination of awe and remorse. The gigantic 
throbbing cock had taught her what her body was made for-to give pleasure 
and take it. 

"Oh ... oh...." she couldn't tell him she was cumming, but he knew it. He 
screwed harder and higher into her seeping pussy, and with the depth of each 
lunge she screamed and tore her nails over his muscles, leaving red bloody 
streaks in testimony to his triumph. Her cum juices didn't dribble-they 
poured out around his fucking penis, spilling in sticky puddles on the white 
sofa below her churning buttocks. Her sex juices drenched his genitals as he 
drubbed into her with juicy strokes. 

She'd cum before he did. That wasn't the way it was supposed to be, the 
Cuban decided, digging into her so deep his prick doubled over at the end. 
At last he erupted with geyser-like power, his hot thick sperm shooting deep 
into her stretched womb, blending with the boiling juices of her own sex. 
Her hot pussy walls clung to her rapist desperately, milking the jerking 
organ like a starving baby's mouth. 

Their sweat mingled, their sex juices mingled. He fell on top of her in a 
heap of salty flesh. Cora's hands fluttered from his arms as he pinned her 
immobily to the sofa. Cora's right leg fell to the floor, her obscenely 
spread genitals throbbing and clinging still to his deflated penis. Her 
heart pounded dangerously in her chest. The sublime tension that had joined 
them seconds before filtered into the air, dissipating into a cloud of 
forgetfulness. The new territory where ventured her soul was not neutral, 
however. 

Sanitay broke through euphoria. The delicate features strained as she 
screeched: "Don't you ever touch me again, you, you animal ... you filthy 
peasant refugee!" 

His eyes glared at her as he stepped into his pants and shoes and threw the 
garish polyester shirt over his shoulder. As he left the house with a 
bloated male ego, his chest was lighter. 

On the brick sidewalk leading to Colonel Nelson's front door, the clasp to 
Carlos' St. Christopher's chain loosened and the golden snake lay in the 
crab grass skirting the walkway. Mindlessly, Carlos headed back for the 
camp. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

With militaristic pomposity, Mayor Dillon strolled about the eight foot mesh 
fence securing the Kansas army base. The pleading hungry eyes of children 
and the furrowed distress shadowing the brows of men who have fought sharks, 
dehydration and attack by their own government, found themselves on foreign 
soil cooped up like a bunch of chickens and no hope for independence or 
employment. 

On this sun bursting afternoon, the Cuban refugee children, frenetic with 
frustrated energy, followed the six-foot hulk of Mayor Dillon as if he were 
the Pied Piper. The chocolate, saucered eyes trailed curiously after the 
immaculately dressed authority figure who had been ordered by the federal 
government to assess the living conditions at Lawrence, Kansas army base and 
make recommendations. 

Having toured the barracks where cots were lined up like so many teeth and 
once proud fathers draped bedsheets from the ceiling in attempts to gain a 
bit of privacy; and the pathetically equipped infirmary, run by a handful of 
interns, with its seventy-bed capacity; and the latrines with backed up 
sewers, rusted sinks and urine puddling the floor, he was ready to make a 
statement to the Lawrence Gazette reporter trailing puppyishly after him 
with notepad in hand. 

"Would you repeat that, sir?" the reporter scratched madly, half running to 
keep abreast of the fast-paced mayor of Lawrence. 

"I said, and you can quote me on this," boomed Mayor Dillon dictatorially, 
flicking a fleck of lint from his pin-striped suit sleeve, "the living 
conditions at Lawrence, Kansas army base are damned adequate. There's no 
reason for the Federal welfare department to stick its nose in our 
business." 

The puzzled reporter eyed a pale-faced mother nursing her child, rocking 
back and forth and muttering depressive epitaphs in her native tongue, while 
the hunger swollen belly of her two-year old rubbed against her shoulder. 

"But Mayor ... Colonel Nelson claims there are no medical facilities for 
these people, that it is our American duty to employ Cuban-speaking 
counselors who can help maintain the nuclear family unit...." 

The Mayor halted his General Patton stride in midstep and glared at the 
Gazette reporter and glowered. "They made it across the Gulf, didn't they? 
Damned peasants are tougher 'n the rest of us!" 

"But ... but, Mayor...." the reporter ran to keep abreast as the mayor 
charged for the exit gate, scattering children in his wake like the parting 
of the Red Sea. "Mayor ... Colonel Nelson claims the food supplies are 
running short and that the County Welfare Department is delinquent in 
keeping up its end of the bargain." 

"Bullshit!" barked the Mayor. "I don't care what the Colonel says! You see 
any of 'em starving?" 

"And jobs," probed the reporter tenaciously. "He claims Lawrence is 
unreceptive to the Federal Sponsorship Program. Any thoughts on that?" 

"We're working on it...." 

"Back to the Welfare Department...." 

Mayor Dillon's jowled face fell slack and his step quickened. "No comment," 
he hissed over his shoulder, making a hasty exit through the gate as his 
eyes sparred with the dark, brooding Latino eyes of Carlos boring 
accusatively at him. 

"I thought I told you to call Cora Nelson!" he bellowed in a baritone voice. 

"Honey, I'm sorry ... I plum forgot ... what with the telephone ringing and 
me trying to find sponsors for the refugees, I just forgot!" A trembling 
hand reached for the glass of wine on the end table next to a sneezy ashtray 
brimming with cigarette butts. 

"You're too damned drunk, that's what's the matter with you ... you don't 
have a Goddamned undamaged cell in your bubbly brain!" He shorted and paced. 
"I ask you to do something and you fall on your ass!" 

The slump shouldered woman stroked a wave of bleached hair .out of her eyes 
and inhaled a puff of smoke which curled from her nostrils now. Throwing 
back her head, she pursed her lips and started a monologue that made Mayor 
Dillon yawn. 

"I ... I ... didn't used to drink like this, Earl ... you know that. I was a 
good secretary to you ... nobody could campaign like Joyce Carruthers," she 
snickered bitterly. "Everything changed after the celebration party ... when 
I ... had too much champagne and you accused me of-of being with that 
alderman in the men's room and you-you hit me in the eye in front of all our 
party members," she sniffed righteously, grabbing the wing glass and 
punching out her cigarette in one synchronized motion. "You know that 
started it off ... and don't you deny it, Earl Dillon . ... " 

"You were suckin' off Carl in the men's room and don't you deny it, woman!" 
he boomed, winging around on his heel. Contritely, he scratched the back of 
his burly neck, and said in a smaller voice, "I can't help it if the Gazette 
photographer just happened to come out of the can just then." He glowered at 
the wine glass clutched in his wife's berry red fingertips. 

"I've done well, Earl," she averred, setting the empty wine glass on the end 
table and eyeing it desirously. "I've cut down, really I have ... I go to my 
AA meeting every Monday night and I...." with that admission she broke down 
in a loud wail shrill enough to shatter the wine glass. The Mayor turned his 
back and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. 

He didn't want to hear his wife's sob story. He wanted to know how Cora 
Nelson liked her Cuban houseboy. The Mayor grunted to himself with 
self-satisfaction. When the Gazette got wind of the rowdy manners of 
'certain' Cuban refugees who were luckily chosen for the sponsorship 
program, it would turn the city of Lawrence against the yellow skinned 
bastards and Castro would have to take the whole no-good, welfare-sucking 
idiots back into his Commie country! He couldn't think with Joyce wailing 
behind his back. 

He glowered at the back of her head while he shook his own. Critically, he 
glared at the half-drunken woman slumped over on the sofa, her body heaving 
with sobs and he noted, too, the dark roots of her bleached blonde hair. 
Hard to believe that five years ago when he'd married her, his secretary, 
that efficient, prolific creature had withered into a simpering, frightened 
woman who had been one hell of a lay. 

He snickered bitterly and turned to stare out the window. Now whenever she 
got horny enough to let him touch her, she had to guzzle a glass of wine 
first to crowbar open her cunt. Always had to have the safety of a wine 
glass at her elbow to stoke her courage. He'd been damned proud of her 
progress in drying up, and then Colonel Nelson had his asshold Federal 
Sponsorship Program which made her hit the bottle again. 

Earl Dillon barred his teeth and spat out four letter viterperatives. So the 
town of Lawrence didn't think his wife was good enough to socialize with the 
upper echelons of this crummy hick town. They would think still worse of 
their Mayor when they discovered their Welfare Department didn't have enough 
loose change left in this fiscal year's budget to buy a bottle of aspirin! 
Maybe he was over his head. Damned, fucking refugees gotta screw everything 
up for me ... just when it was coming together so well. Earl stroked his 
naked chin and cogitated on the grim speculations ahead. 

Brusquely, he swung around, his face livid with fury; he poked a bony finger 
at his wife who obediently lifted her mascara-smeared head from the sofa's 
wet arm and sniffled bravely. "You call Colonel Nelson's hot assed Cuban 
wife and tell her I'm sending out two more houseboys tomorrow, since she 
liked 'em so goddamned much!" 

Joyce nodded stiffly, her blue eyes two liquidy pools of depression from too 
many dictatorial confrontations with her husband. 

The Colonel's wife dolefully pulled up the satin coverlet and plumped up the 
pillows; she stroked the coverlet smooth, as a resolute sigh broke from her 
lips. Last night's horror show flitted drearily through her mind. Leo 
wanting to make love and she crying over a supposed headache. Now she 
covered her face with her tiny hands and cried from a very real pounding 
headache. 

How could she possibly let Leo see her naked with the pinch marks dotting 
her breasts and the other ugly bruises polka-dotting her lovely tanned 
thighs? Damn that Federal Sponsorship Program anyway, Cora's lovely 
shoulders heaved. At least she'd done her part and hired one refugee for a 
day. Now the town could follow her example and take over the responsibility. 

Or so she thought, until she answered the telephone. 

"H-hello, Cora?" 

She's half looped again, thought Cora, rolling her eyes at the ceiling as 
she recognized the Mayor's wife's raspy voice, deep as the mysterious life 
of the woman herself. 

"How's yer li'l Cuban refugee yes'erday," she slurred. 

"He did his work. I have to say that for him," retorted Cora crisply. "Are 
you calling for any special purpose, Joyce?" 

Alcoholics often take impersonal remarks personally, and that's how the 
Mayor's wife interpreted Cora's brusqueness. 

"B-but it was so nice of you t' he'p me out, Cora," sniffled Joyce. 

"Don't take it personally, Joyce, if I don't have need for another houseboy 
today. Carlos was well mannered and I have no complaints about his 
performance," she pointed out emphatically, her voice chiselled with 
defense. But then the Colonel's wife was one bull's eye for ridicule and 
gossip. Better to speak well of him, then leave speculation to the wind.... 

"I's so har' bein' a Mayor's wife," droned on Joyce. "Lordie, I get stuck 
with these dirty jobs and nobody to help me." Her voice dropped to a 
confidential tone. "I feel like I don' have a frien' in Lawrence ... they 
all think I'm a drunk ... but I try, I really do, Cora." 

There was a pause. Mayor Dillon hadn't married his secretary for her body 
alone. "You don' s'pose you could take jus' one tomorrow ... huh, Cora, 
honey? 

Cora drew a deep sigh. "Okay, tomorrow, but after that I suggest you start 
calling on the church people." 

"Ah, the Mayor'll be so happy!" 

I'll bet he will, thought Cora, I'll just bet he will. Lord, lean't issue 
any complaints about these refugees or Leo will be in hot water. 

"Damn Castro anyway!" hissed Cora, returning the receiver to the cradle. "I 
wish they'd deport the bunch of them and get them out of my hair!" 

Leo would be ashamed of me if he heard me talk like that, she berated 
herself, and headed for the kitchen to whip up a frittata for tonight's 
dinner. 

As she whipped the eggs into a lemony froth, the horrifying thought struck 
home that Carlos might have some awful social disease. "Oh, Dear God!" she 
wailed aloud, dropping the fork. Penicillin ... she had to get a penicillin 
shot just in case. How would she ever explain a festering case of syphillis 
to Leo? God only knew what kind of veneral diseases plantation peasants 
carried on them. To go to the infirmary would be watering the grapevine. 

Frenetically, she rushed to the bathroom and stood before the full length 
mirror, inspecting her body for any bruises about her neck and shoulders 
that might have popped up overnight. How would she explain that to Leo? Her 
trembling fingertips worked at the buttons of her shirt and pulled it open 
to expose the full mounds of her braless bosom. No, nothing on her neck, she 
thought with relief, turning her head from left to right for examination. 
Tender pinch marks on her breasts distressed her, but a heavy coat of makeup 
would comoflage them just fine. 

A shuffling of feet and "Honey, I'm home!" sent her flying from the bathroom 
to drape herself on Leo's arm. 

"My, aren't we affectionate tonight?" he grinned, showing off pearly teeth 
in a tanned, dimpled face. "What's the occasion?" 

"Us." She needed him more than ever to make love to her tonight to eradicate 
the guilt of yesterday's rape. The word 'rape' stuck in her throat like bad 
meat. 

They went to bed early, and Leo had flicked on the portable color television 
set in their bedroom which afforded enough lumination to read a book by. Leo 
liked to have it on and for that reason, it became an unquestioned habit. So 
tonight when his towel-draped body emerged from the bathroom in anticipation 
of finding his wife wearing the sexy black nightgown that always made him 
want to come in his pants ... and he stepped into a dark room, he 
immediately demanded an explanation. "Cora...?" 

"Yeah, honey. I'm in bed." 

"Turn on the TV, will ya? I can't find my pajamas." 

"You don't need pajamas, honey," her mellifluous voice whispered. "Come to 
me...." 

"Turn it on anyway." 

Cora tutted. "Oh, come on ... don't be a baby." 

"I'm not being a baby ... I wanna see where I'm going!" 

Him and his damn television! I hope the makeup hasn't smeared off! 

"Oh, all right." Disgrunteldly, she pulled the covers up to her chin and 
stretched a lithe arm to flick on the television set and plopped back down 
in bed with the covers up to her chin. 

Leo cocked his head and squinted at her. "What's the matter with you?" 

"Nothing. Why?" Her eyes, big chocolate orbs, blinked up at him. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, the television screen splashing white light 
over his muscle rippling back. "Bet you're wearing that sexy black nightie I 
gave you...." he commenced peeling back the covers. "Come on, let me see you 
in it...." 

"No...." How could she refuse her husband after incessant nagging about 
their sexless marriage? "Turn off the TV first." 

"Shy? You've got nothing to hide. I love your body, you know that!" 

He kissed her, their tongues intertwining in a deep soul-kiss. His hands 
stroked the silkiness of her neck and explored south to the melonous mounds 
of bruised flesh which bore the color of infidelity. Dear God, don't let him 
see that bruise! she prayed, grateful Leo was one of those men who close 
their eyes during lovemaking. 

"Ahhh...." she mewled, her nipples taut and hard, tenderly needful against 
his chest, while she relished in the feel of his hands roaming over the 
luscious curves of her slender body, dipping into the moistness of her 
yearning cunt, his finger tenderly stroking and stoking the fires of desire 
smoldering hotly from Carlos' 'rape' the day before. He thumped at her 
clitoris, while her hand fled to the limp tube of his penis and massaged it 
slowly and lovingly, letting her hand drift down every now and then to 
cradle the warm sac of testicles. 

Minutes passed. He kissed and worked her up to a tortorous arousal, but his 
cock, hot in her tiny hand, refused to grow. Usually, Leo's penis would have 
been a cudgel in her fist, seeping with pre-ejaculatory juices and throbbing 
with blood, and he would have pinned her to the mattress while his eager 
cock flesh tore into her belly, filling her with love juice. 

Not to be. The flaccid tube withered pathetically in her fist, with none of 
the Nelson zeal. Lying next to him, Cora ground her buttocks into the 
squeaking mattress, thrusting her pelvis up to meet his finger sluicing 
noisily in and out of her seeping pussy. 

"Leo ... I want you ... I need you inside of me," she wailed pathetically, 
fearing she'd go stark raving mad if he didn't make her cum. 

"Jesus, honey ... I'm sorry ... I guess it's this damned refugee situation 
that's upsetting me ... you understand, don't you?" he whispered, kissing 
her forehead like a good little girl deserving of praise. 

"Don't let it upset you," she whined. "You spend more time being concerned 
about them than you do about me!" Frantically, she pumped the withered tube 
in her fist. "Leo, I can't stand this ... I've got to have you up in me ... 
I mean it!" She cajoled and pumped and stroked and breathed hot air into his 
ear. 

For nothing. 

"PLEASE, LEO!" 

Leo buried his head under the pillow. Cora, sniffling from the loss of his 
fingers stroking in and out of her crying vagina, rolled him over almost 
wishing he'd see the bruises on her breasts so he'd see what a real man 
could do in bed! 

Oh, what a horrible thing to think! Desperation set in. 'Talk to me, Leo ... 
maybe you should talk to Dr. Gaston." 

"Don't make fun of me, honey ... I'm sorry, but I've got a lot on my 
mind...." 

"What about me? You've got to do something to make me cum, Leo ... 
anything!" Cora was on the verge of tears and she cried the harder when the 
mocking leering brown eyes of Carlos snapped to mind. Carlos with the golden 
chest and fifteen year old penis that filled her belly to bursting. 

Distraught with embarrassment, the Colonel flopped onto his back and rubbed 
the swollen lips of her pussy, his hard middle finger slipping into the 
dripping juices of her womb, stroking her clitoris until she whimpered out 
her orgasm. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

A miserable night it was, punching his pillow, muttering in between snores. 
Cora deciphered the words Dillon and welfare, followed by fifty thousand. 
She lay staring into the darkness, worried about his impotence. Were she a 
man, she could commiserate. Everyone was wallowing in depression these days. 
Joyce Dillon, too ... inebriated in the middle of the afternoon. 

Rumor had it the pre-Dillon Joyce had the makings of a Jackie Kennedy 
political tool: vivacious, alert, appreciative of the arts. Now the 
post-Dillon Joyce was another creature altogether. Funny how a man can 
change you, thought Cora, speculating fearfully on the effects of forced 
abstinence. Poor Joyce, frightened of a tyrannical husband, carrying the cur 
of 'town drunk'. The pale morning light shadowed from pink to yellow as she 
lay feigning sleep. 

The angry buzz of the digital alarm sent the Colonel flying out of bed in 
mid-snore; he jumped into his jogging shorts, neatly foded on the chair 
beside the bed, and without turning a worried face to his wife, jogged out 
the door. 

Wearily, Cora slid out of bed, the black nightie shimmering from her golden 
nudity with one pull of the drawstring. With a shake of her blue black hair 
dancing over the bouncing orbs of her strawberry tipped breasts, she 
rejected the idea of telling Leo about Carlos. Only if he questioned her 
would she confess, and if he wanted a divorce, it wasn't her fault. It was 
rape, she told herself sternly, no matter if she'd cum twice-once from his 
sucking mouth, once from his pounding cock. 

It puzzled her why Mayor Dillon was so curious about her reaction to 
sponsoring a Cuban refugee. Surely he harbored no plans for quoting her in 
the Gazette, because of course she would boost her husband's support for the 
federal program. Then why was he so darned curious? Dillon might be a 
hawkish blowhard but no ... he wasn't crazy enough to encourage the refugee 
boys to ... No, I'm letting my imagination run away with me. 

Cora had leisured away the morning at the army base health club, hoping 
physical exercise might dull the tingling frustration of last night's 
aborted iovemaking. In the heat of the afternoon, she drove into the 
driveway to their home, a replica of every other white framed house with a 
sun porch on the tree-lined drive called 'Stripes Drive' by those who had 
none. 

The cobblestone sidewalk was hot under her feet and each leaping step 
brought her closer to the coolness of her air conditioned house, wiping out 
precautionary habits-like locking the door. 

Mayor Dillon's peculiar behavior haunting her, she stripped out of her 
bikini, leaving it in a pink puddle on the bathroom floor, and jumping into 
the shower, determined that under no circumstances would she allow today's 
refugees into her house. Squeezing the excess water from her conditioned 
hair, she stepped from the shower into a fluffy towel. 

Carlos and his two Cuban buddies were making themselves at home in the 
Nelson's kitchen, three rooms away. Jactating to his swarthy friends about 
the hot-assed Colonel's wife, whispering in Cuban, he scratched his golden 
chest wondering if he'd lost his medallion here. Damn it, solid gold, too. 
Ricki, tall, lean and missing a front tooth, glared with disillusionment at 
the kitchen which could have been in House Beautiful. 

"She Cuban, you say?" 

Carlos nodded. "Every sweet-assed inch of her." 

"Hmm...." Ricki glowered, feeling the prick of poverty that had been his 
cur. Nostrils flared with the gut wrenching hatred the poor feel toward the 
wealthy of the same ethnic background. 

The third-Juan, a Jamacian by extract, with kinky black hair matted to his 
head that gave him a truculent look that would have sent the church ladies 
of Lawrence scurrying for safety. His dark liquid eyes glistened with the 
glassy effects of marijuana, sweet on his breath. 

"Listen," warned Carlos. "That asshole Dillon says no blood, okay." He 
glared at Ricki in particular, the bad-tempered one. "Fifty bucks a piece 
can get us out-ta that fuckin' camp ... but we gotta be cool." 

Juan licked his fleshy lips, the color of raspberries. A crooked grin showed 
off pearly white teeth minus one. "Hot ass, huh?" He stroked the bulge in 
his pants. "Man, I ain' had me no pussy since me and Carlos screwed in the 
latrine. Ain' no urine on this floor to get your knees wet!" 

Ricki's chocolate eyes were still feasting on the fine decor. "I smell 
somethin' foul. Fuckin' the Colonel's wife don' seem right ta me. I mean 
he's a good guy, ya know? I don' trust that asshole Dillon ... he thinks 
we's jes' a buncha dumbshits wi'd no ed'cation." 

Juan rubbed his chin. "But fifty bucks, man ... fifty bucks!" 

Carlos put his finger to his lip. "Shhhh ... I hear her comin'." 

Flipping the mane of her wet hair over her shoulders, Cora slipped into a 
pair of levis and a tee shirt, singing snatches of Madame Butterfly and 
headed for the kitchen for a cup of pick-me-up caffeine. 

In the hallway, headed for the living room, she stopped in mid-step, the 
blood singing in her ears. The smell of sweating bodies stung her nostrils 
before she saw them. 

"How did you get in my house?" she demanded, struggling to maintain an air 
of authority to let him know she had no intentions of going along with his 
roguish behavior. Her fear dilated pupils raked over the sweaty browed 
foreheads and naked golden chests sheening through shirts unbuttoned to the 
waist. Six black eyes nibbling at her self-composure, reflecting their 
mischievous intentions ... and all staring at her, raking their eyes up and 
down the svelte curves of her married flesh. 

"I asked Joyce Dillon for two refugees, not three ... so one of you will 
have to leave," she demanded, stiffening. 

The refugees looked at each other and back at the gorgeous features of one 
of their people-a lucky one who had obviously been born into money. 

"We all been paid to work, lady," offered Carlos, the spokesman. 

"Paid? By whom?" challenged Cora. 

Ricki shook his head and crossed his arms over his berry brown chest. 
"That'd be tellin', now wouldn' it?" 

Nostrils flaring, Cora's flushed cheeks burned with fear and anger. He'd 
raped her once and now he'd come back for more-with two foul-smelling, 
chipped toothed reinforcements. 

She'd had enough! Stomping toward the telephone on the hallway wall, she 
decided Leo had to know about this. 

His hand shot out and caught her wrist, just as her red fingertips touched 
the receiver. "Don' try makin' no calls, lady...." 

Cora pivoted, wincing from his chafing grasp that twisted and stung like a 
rope burn. She twisted, struggled and kicked, but he held fast, cocking his 
head for his evil accomplices to reinforce his evil efforts. Fear like she'd 
never known bubbled up in Cora's stomach. 

The three picked her up like a sack of potatoes and dragging her through the 
bedroom door, flopped her breathless, shivering body down on the mattress. 
I've got to call Leo! But as she elbowed her way to the edge of the 
mattress, groping for the bedroom phone on the nightstand, he caught her 
shoulders and threw her back down, pinning and holding her there with his 
dirty palm over her slender throat. He glared murderously down at her, his 
face a pagan mask of cruelty. His fleshy upper lip rippled with disdain as 
he breathed hotly into her face. 

"Jes' cause you got bucks don' make you no better Cuban 'n us...." His hand 
crushed her windpipe, cutting off her air until she felt hot and dizzy. 
"Wha' you gotta say 'bout that?" 

It hurt to do it, but she nodded in agreement. Anything to appease this 
young rapist! You do someone a favor and look what happens ... she thought 
bitterly, knowing how embarrassed and enraged Leo would be over this 
incident. The hand lifted from her throat and she coughed, choking. 

He muttered something in Cuban to his friends who disappeared out the door, 
heading for the kitchen to find something tastier than beans and surplus 
peant butter which had been their welfare diet ... and not much of that. 

Cora cringed into the bed, her eyes sparring with the deep hatred shining in 
his limpid orbs, a hatred for someone of their ethnicity more fortunate than 
he. If he was trying to make her feel guilty, it wouldn't work ... but if he 
wanted to terrify her, he was doing one bang-up job! 

As she stared at him, his eyes left her face and roamed over the smooth, 
ripe curves of her body and when he barked in Cuban for her to strip naked, 
she complied, shivering nakedly on her marital bed, his lustful brooding 
eyes maintaining a vigil over her every movement. 

Upper lip curling, he pinched her nipples into hardened peaks. Cora squinted 
shut her eyes, a tingling sensation charging fugitively from one mound of 
succulent flesh to the other. The sweaty palms of his raping hands cupped 
and massaged, drugging her with the burning of growing excitement. God, why 
couldn't Leo do that to her? A tortured moan escaped her parted lips as last 
night's frustration seethed in the pit of her belly. A clitoral orgasm 
relieved the pressure momentarily, but nothing could satisfy like a hard 
pounding cock shooting you full of creamy love. 

"You think you's such hot shit jus' cause you married to a American military 
man ... fuckin' fascist pig ... Castro ain' no better, doin' nothin' for 'is 
people ... don' even wan' us back in the country," he snickered bitterly. 
"We bein' paid lots a money to fuck yo'r brains out ... so lay back n' 
enjoy." 

Jagged spears of red hot pain shot through one nip-. pie to the other as he 
twisted and pulled and tweaked painfully at her nipples still sore from 
yesterday's rape. Fear biting at her heart, Cora struggled to extricate 
herself from the excruciating grip. Adrenalin pumping injier veins like 
diesel jet fuel, she managed to roll out ftom under him with a few 
scratches, and fly from the bed, but in mid-leap, almost before her feet 
touched the floor, his hands grabbed her around the waist and slapped her 
back on the bed. 

"He said no blood, but you gonna play them kinda games...." 

Keeping a wary eye on her, he stalked toward the bedroom door, locked it and 
snarled down at the trembling woman on the coverlet. "I got ma knife on me, 
and I ain' fraid a tfsin' it. I been hungry, I been poor, but I ain' been 
made no fool o' by no Cuban bitch!" 

"No, Carlos ... please," she muttered in Cuban, trying to appeal to his 
nobler senses. His intent was shining redly in his eyes. Burtally, he yanked 
one of her slender wrists to a-corner bedpost and with quick movements 
knotted a strip of red and gray silk around the wood, drawing her hands so 
tight to the post they turned blue. Next the other wrist, while she lay 
staring up at him with impassive eyes. So young, so full of hatred and 
revenge. No chance of revolt in Cuba, not with a leader like Castro ... but 
why must they come to America with their vengeance! Leo was right; they 
needed self-respect and the only means for achieving that was through 
assimilating them into the community as contributing members. 

Carlos sneered at her bound naked body stretched out like an animal about to 
be butchered. 

"You won't get away with this! You forget my husband is a Colonel!" she 
snapped. 

He responded with a snicker before backing off and pulling off his 
shirt,.pants, kicking off'his hand-me-down shoes two sizes too big. The 
absurdity hit her as she watched the garish polyester shirt, still stained 
from yesterday's perspiration, peel off his maturely muscled body. Raped in 
her own home by another Cuban whose sour fate she'd worked to sweeten. 

Wildly, her eyes gazed about the room. Leo's pajamas right where he'd left 
them, the smell of his cologne sweet on his pillow beside her head.. 
Humiliation gurgled in her stomach acidly. So much of him here, but so far 
away! she thought with real self pity. 

Her head shot to the side as Carlos' naked body shut out the sunlight 
bursting through the bedroom window. His long, thick cock was partially 
erect, but bigger, more potent than she'd remembered, with a pearl of 
pre-cum glistening from the slitted eye. Last night she'd cried for a potent 
penis ... but today rational returned with a thud ... the moment he'd 
slipped the first necktie around her wrist. She bit her lip, nearly drawing 
blood rushing from the self hatred of having wanted that angry penis gorging 
into her vagina ... yesterday. But today was a dark gloomy story. 

The mattress lowered beside her and she knew he was positioning himself for 
rape. A tingle of naughty anticipation at the feel of his strength closing 
in on her bubbled in her loins, despite moral resolve. If he didn't kiss 
her, mingling his saliva with hers, she could tolerate him pounding into her 
pussy because that would make it objective ... like, like making myself cum, 
she reasoned, trying to muster up a shred of dignity as she lay stark naked 
and vulnerable. 

One chocolate eye peeped open as he raised her head and plumped up pillows 
which he used as a supportive nest for her wet hair. Her chin was nearly 
touching her chest when the second wadded up feather pillow joined the 
first. Under fluttery eyelashes, she looked up into his face wreathed in 
bitter amusement. 

Was this a new torture? "Carlos ... what ... are-are you doing?" 

He smiled sarcastically with the slur of a fifteen year old's insolence, and 
wagged the tube of his jutting cock in her face. "Lick it," he snapped. 

Cora's head flew to the side. He couldn't be serious, her mind screamed. The 
brown body was closing in on her and the musky scent of his genitals (when 
had he bathed last?) filled her nostrils with repulsion. It seemed to be 
growing inch by bloated inch before her unblinking eyes. In petrified 
disbelief, his golden body closed in on her, one strong muscled leg lifting 
over her cringing body as he straddled her breasts with his buttocks, knees 
snug into her warm armpits, the tip of his prick a tongue's reach away. 

"N-nooo ... not that ... you can take me ... but don't...." she whined, 
tossing her head from side to side, "do that!" 

He shook the blood engorged cock before her eyes and levered up on his knees 
as he rubbed the seeping tip over her quivering lips. 

Cora closed her eyes and drew her lips into a taut line of refusal. She 
gasped as he grabbed her cruelly by the shoulder, gouging into her tender 
flesh until she cried out in real pain. 

"I said open yer mouth, bitch, cunt," he spat between even white teeth. 
Shaking her head in misery, she let out a tortured wail as he grabbed a 
handful of waist length black hair, still wet from the shower, and wrapped 
it around his knuckles like a soft brass knuckle. 

"Ohhh ... that hurts!" she whimpered babyishly. 

"Open your fuckin' mouth!" 

Obediently, so that he wouldn't tear her hair out by the roots, Cora let her 
lips part. The tensile flesh refused to relax from fear and supressed pain. 

"Suck my cock...." he snarled. 

Red with mortification, Cora reluctantly closed her lips around the blunt, 
foul-smelling purplish knob of his cock, tasting for the first time the 
bittersweet piquancy of the white love juices Leo used to shoot ir. to her 
starving womb. But it was in her mouth, dispelling the love-filled 
connotation. It lay in her mouth, throbbing with blood. So this is what Leo 
had wanted her to do to him, she thought, feeling a tremor of forbidden 
excitement at the strange sensation. She lay there, panti ng, struggling for 
breath around the pole gouging into her throat. 

"I said suck!" he bellowed, whacking her across the cheek with a mobilizing 
blow. 

Oh, God, there was no choice but to follow his orders. Yesterday he'd 
carried a knife ... and there were three of them. Three against one! The 
pungent taste of his warm semen on her tongue wasn't so digusting after her 
nostrils adjusted to the smell of him. Experimentally, hoping to please him 
in order not to suffer another bruised patch which Leo would see, she 
twirled her tongue over the thick, purplish head. Carlos groaned in 
appreciation and started muttering four letter words in Cuban. 

He breathed heavily, riding her breasts, panting from the thrill of seeing 
this aristocrat's lips stuffed with his dirty refugee cock. Reluctantly, he 
drew back, withdrawing his cock from her lips and barked orders for her to 
lick it and keep her eyes open. 

Slavishly, keeping a wary eye on him, she stared at the long, golden hunk of 
male flesh that rose like a snake before her fear contorted face. It was 
hard, rubbery, stretched skin shiny with blood. Thick veins, blueish and 
bulging covered it while it pulsed madly against the pearly yellow skin 
covering it. Between and below, his two round testicles, firm and nearly 
hairless, hung in their sacs, swollen and heavy with the sperm that boiled 
within. 

Cautiously the captive Colonel's wife ran her tongue down the pole of 
wiggling flesh, licking dantily all around, evenly, as if it were a popsicle 
melting in the sun. She lavished her tongue over the stalky base, along its 
thick underside to the dark ridges protruding wormishly from the thick 
foreskin, playing, caressing it ... and totally uncertain of what she was 
doing. 

Tied to her own marriage bed like a filthy whore ... whore ... yes, I was a 
whore yesterday and he's making me into a whore today, she thought, 
self-loathing and disgust stoking guilt as her nostrils flared from the 
potent muskiness of him. 

Carlos trembled slightly from the sensation of her pointed tongue slaving 
over his proud cock. Boy, what a thrill having sex with a gorgeous, clean 
woman without dirt under her fingernails! "Suck ... harder," he grunted, 
ramming his blood engorged penis down her throat until Cora was sure she'd 
be sick to her stomach. 

Compliantly, Cora trailed her soft pink tongue back over the rubbery 
hardness and ovaled her lips and slipped them gently over the smooth naked 
head, her head bobbing as she struggled to keep it in her mouth. Above her 
Carlos groaned and flicked his hips forward, sliding the rod into the warm, 
wet hole of her mouth and down the full length of her tongue until the tip 
banged brutally against the back of her throat. Panic flooded her mind as 
she gagged at the invasion, but she sucked, slipping her tongue up and down 
the stalk, nibbling softly at the base with her teeth, knowing that his 
groans of appreciation earned her less torture. 

His upper lip curled back to expose even white teeth. 

Carlos threw back his head in jubiliation and rocked his hips back and 
forth, fucking into her mouth as if it were just another naked cunt. Cora 
sucked on the hot throbbing flesh, but she could barely get a breath before 
he rammed it down her throat again. Her cheeks hollowed on the outstroke, 
bloating like balloons each time he rammed back in, grazing her tonsils as 
if trying to give her a tonsilectomy. 

Cora, the sophisticated Colonel's wife, shivered with fear. To survive she 
must forget about her dear husband, the two ruffians parading freely about 
her house and concentrate on the girth of male meat drubbing into her mouth. 
If I don't please him ... God only knows what this hateful kid will do! She 
must let him think he's king, treat him with respect, she decided for the 
sake of survival. If I don't obey or belittle him, his anger will turn to 
murderous revenge. 

To show her complete subservience to his will and to prove how powerful he 
was, she managed to raise her head enough to bob it up and down in rhythm to 
the boy's slamming thrusts into her mouth. 

Carlos almost blew it when he looked down at the lovely lipstick -rimmed 
lips stretched tightly around the thick base of his cock; he rammed forward 
so hard, her head banged against the headboard. He screwed into her mouth 
until every last fiery inch was stuffed down her throat. He watched the tiny 
ridges of soft pink flesh as he pulled back from her gently sucking lips 
that disappeared back inside as he slid it forward until it hit the back of 
her throat. 

A devilish sneer curled his lips as he watched her face turn red and tears 
spill from her eyes; he was! choking her, making her gag on his Cuban cock. 
The stinkin' federal government could keep their goddamned welfare-he'd take 
the Colonel's wife any day! 

"Unnnggghhh he screamed, locking his hands hard around the back of her 
bobbing head, drawing it over his cock until he could see only the wet 
glistening black kinkiness of his pubic curls tickling her snobbish nose. He 
watched delightedly as his balls erupted and her throat tightened and 
untightened, swallowing in desperate gulps the hot, sticky fluid he was 
spewing into her gaping mouth. Her cheeks ballooned torturously and hollowed 
as she struggled to keep from drowning on the warm flooding, salty tasting 
sperm shooting into her mouth. She sucked closing her mind to the 
cleanser-like taste of the stickiness puddling in her belly as the last drop 
seeped from his softening penis. 

At least she was alive.... 

Then his caramel colored prick slipped from her ravaged lips and Carlos 
collapsed down on the bed, exhausted from orgasm and lack of sleep. The 
softness of the mattress was heaven compared to the lousy army cots shoved 
together with no privacy. . 

Cora let out a deep sigh, thankful her torture had ended and, closing her 
eyes, wiped the sticky threads dribbled over her lips onto her naked 
shoulder. 

Testing the bonds, she wiggled her wrists. No use. Beside her Carlos had 
fallen into a snoring slumber. In two hours Leo would be coming home and 
then all hell would break loose. He might even murder Carlos; who could tell 
how a man who'd spent two years in Viet Nam would react to finding his wife 
tied, naked to his marriage bed! 

And what about the other two refugees stalking about her house, waiting on 
the other side of the locked door. What had they been paid to do and who 
paid them? One thing for certain: It couldn't be any worse than the 
perversion Carlos had just subjected her to. Cora's terrified mind fled to 
the dark skinned one with the kinky black hair matted to his skull as if a 
comb hadn't been raked through the mess for six months. And the tall, lanky 
one missing a front tooth.... 

Leo....! 

 CHAPTER SIX 

"What do ya mean she hasn't called yet?" bellowed Lawrence's mayor over the 
telephone into his wife's ear. "I wanna know how she liked her Cuban 
houseboy today ... now you gonna get off your fat ass and play mayor's wife, 
or do I have to teach you a lesson?" 

Joyce whimpered into the phone. The bruise on her right shoulder had faded 
from ugly purple to atumn yellow, and to fight with Earl was the last thing 
she wanted. His temper was worse than a stallion stung in the ass by a 
bumblebee. "No, no, Earl no!" 

Dillon seethed with impatience and rubbed his chin, wondering if he'd 
misjudged the sweet bodied Colonel's wife. Christ, maybe she's one of them 
masochists who likes getting roughed up....She wasn't supposed to like it, 
damn her! Either that or the damned Cuban took their fifty bucks and got 
drunk. Couldn't trust a dirty Commie.... 

"But, honey...." Joyce stammered in a mellifluous voice. "What's all the 
fuss about ... why is the welfare department being so stingy with its funds? 
I thought the state was matching the county penny for penny. Why ... it's as 
if there wasn't a nickel left in the county welfare budget!" 

"Don't try playing politican, Joyce," gruffed Earl, cutting off with a 
deafening slam of the receiver. 

Wearily, Joyce pulled the receiver from her stinging ear, wincing at his 
insults and dantily returned it to the cradle. What kind of life was this? 
She knew she was still a beautiful woman with a boxmy figure, but Earl 
hadn't even kissed her in months! Red fingertips clawed under the sofa and 
stooping over until her breasts nearly tumbled from her knit dress, she 
plucked the wine bottle out from under the sofa and not bothering with a 
glass, gurgled down a mouthful. 

Tomorrow ... I'll ... I'll show Earl," she promised herself, wiping her 
mouth with the back of her hand. 'I'll throw out the case of vintage 
burgundy I hid in the garage and show him how strong I am. And when I'm off 
it for a week, I'll tell him where to stuff it....She nodded decisively, 
tears stinging her eyes, and gulped down a mouthful. 

Depression gathered like thunderstorms ... depression and guilt, the cur of 
alcoholics. Why, she hadn't a friend in this dumpy, hick town to speak of 
... especially after the unfortunate incident last summer at the Daughters 
of the American Revolution .uncheon when the president, Anna Bixby, berated 
the mayor for supposedly ignoring federal guidelines monitoring welfare 
spending. A few too many glasses of chablis and Joyce took the insult 
personally. Oh, she moaned to herself now, wishing she could retract that 
nasty temper tantrum that made her throw her full glass of burgundy in 
Anna's face. You'd think I were a leper the way those snobbish women ignore 
me on the street.... 

Wasn't it bad enough all of Lawrence thought her a drunken slut, without 
Earl bitching at her too? All this fuss about Cuban refugee sponsorships. 
She stared at the telephone and with a sigh, dialed Cora Nelson's number, 
wondering why Earl was darned concerned about her response to the refugees 
who were cleaning her garage now. 

No answer. Joyce turned a blurry eye to the golden sunlight at three o'clock 
on a lovely summer day. What was she doing inside on this gorgeous day? She 
should be skinny dipping in the heart-shaped pool Earl had constructed for 
her to keep her in shape ... exercising her muscles and working off the wine 
adding inches to her waist line. But Lordie, when you don't make love in 
months, the incentive to keep in shape just isn't there. 

Earl wouldn't give her a second of peace until she'd communicated with Cora, 
so to save herself a black eye, she might as well renege and take a ride 
over to Cora's. Yes, that's what she would do. 

"Mmmm...." Cora squinted through heavy lidded eyes as sunlight filtered 
fugitively through the louvered windows. In a slumbering daze, she gazed 
blurrily at the digital clock which flashed two twenty-three in red letters 
and drowsily decided to make lunch. Lifting her head off the pillow, she 
started to rise. The bonds on her arms jerked her back down and she 
shuddered, the day's events rushing through her mind acidly. Her mouth was 
parched and licking her lips with the tip of her pink tongue, salty crusty 
globules stung her tastebuds and crystallized fear. 

Revulsed with shame, she opened her eyes fearfully and focused on the 
leering grin of Carlos and his two drunken companions. An empty bottle of 
scotch littered the dresser and a half empty pint of bourbon sat beside it. 
The three Cuban refugees drunken orbs fastened on the naked swells of Cora's 
spread-eagled body. Turning her head to bury her shame in the pillow, her 
nostrils flared with Leo's cologne, shaming her horribly. Stop it! Stop it! 
Stop torturing me, she screamed silently, feeling their eyes crawl like an 
army of lice. 

"Take a look at tha' pink cunt," she heard them laugh. Cora felt herself 
blushing hotly as she lay naked and unable to cover her body from their 
leering eyes. "Don' mind makin' money fuckin' a lady ... these 'merican men 
do go' it made," snickered the one with the kinky hair. 

Knowing that to show fear would break her, Cora glared at him through 
hate-filled eyes, forgetting her vow to subservience. Fear roared through 
her mind, but never would she submit to such outrageous indecencies as those 
Carlos had heaped upon her married soul. They might win her body, but never 
her soul! 

The lanky Jamacian strolled confidently up to the bed, and Cora squeezed 
shut her eyes, feeling the humiliation of his hands mauling her nudity. 
Great tears of self pity swelled and burst through her clenched eyes and 
rolled silently down her flushed cheeks. How could she live through this ... 
she must tell Leo, even if it meant throwing four thousand four hundred and 
ninety seven homeless refugees behind bars. After being used as a whore, he 
might not want her. Lord, he couldn't make love to her now, so what would 
their sex life be after he knew she'd swallowed a fifteen year old's sperm? 
Her imagination ran amuck as to the possibilities of what these three 
muscular, angry boys could do to her. 

She swallowed tightly. "Get your hands off me," she snarled, blinking open 
her eyes to stare directly at the huge dark shadow looming over her. Never 
had she seen dirtier hair. Get away from me ... you filthy refugee!" she 
spat. "I don't know who paid you to come here, but I'll see to it you're 
deported ... all three of you! Lawrence doesn't want filth like you anyway!" 

"Castro don' wan us ... said so ... so looks like da Colonel's wife's stuck 
wid three Cuban houseboys," he taunted, cold malice flinting his eyes. 
Calmly, he yanked off his sweaty tee shirt, keeping an eye on her as Carlos 
and Ricki guffawed and finished off Leo's bourbon. Cora glared arrogantly 
back at him, tired of being toyed with. 

"You never had no Cuban cock, did ya? I be' you only fucks white cock, ain' 
that right?" 

Wadding up his shirt and using it as a wash cloth to wipe the sweat purling 
down his armpits, Ricki grasped one of her full, naked thighs, pinching 
slowly upward to the soft, curling vee of her pussy. Cora lay in a state of 
shock from his vile language, but suddenly instinct took charge. 

Her right leg drew back and flashed out, grazing his jaw. It startled him, 
more than hurt him. Before she could kick out, a huge fist, strong as a bear 
trap, clamped over her slender ankle, pushing it back, back until her 
dimpled knee was bent and levered against her chest. With an easy tug, he 
pulled the other foot until it hung over the side of the rumpled bed so that 
the swollen flanges of her cunt were open invitingly to his drunken eyes. 

Cora snarled through clenched teeth, "I swear to God I'll find out who put 
you up to this and when I do...." She sucked in her breath sharply, "you 
better watch out for Colonel Nelson!" 

Ricki, chomping a turkey sandwich he'd taken the liberty to put together 
from the delicatessen in the Nelson's refrigerator, muttered around a 
mouthful. "I tol' ya this wasn' smart ... we's workin' 'gainst ourselves." 

Carlos sourly eyed his ungrateful buddie and grabbing the sandwich out of 
Ricki's hand, barked at him to shut up. 

Cringing on the bed, Cora gritted her pearly teeth, her lovely features 
scrunched up in defiance. "We try to help you refugees out because you had 
faith in America. Look what we get for it! If you only knew the nights my 
husband tossed and turned trying to make it more comfortable for you...!" 

Juan tutted and shook his head, catching smidgens of English which he spoke 
poorly. Her expressions he could read loud and clear. 

Cora grunted from the pain searing along her tendons, but she refused to 
complain or beg. Not even the fear raging within her could overwhelm the 
revulsion she felt for these ungrateful Cubans. She must resist. At least 
she would have the peace of mind of that none of today's horrors would be of 
her own doing ... not like yesterday. She bit her lip in self-loathing. 

With a grunt, Juan moved forward and quickly untied one hand from its 
bedpost. For a joyous moment, Cora thought he was setting her free, but with 
mockingly cruel power he jerked her arm to the opposite bedpost and with 
mirth withdrew a long black belt from his pants loops. She could see the 
muscles rippling beneath his gleaming dark skin as he grabbed her full white 
hips and flipped her over onto her stomach, holding her in place by a huge 
calloused palm pressing into the tender small of her back. It felt as if he 
were trying to disembowel her as he pressed on her kidneys. She cringed down 
into the mattress, small pleading sounds leaking from her mouth. 

"You better learn you can' talk to no Cuban like filth!" ha spat, his upper 
lip curling to show off blackening teeth. "We been tol' 'merica's da lan' a 
milk an' honey ... and I gonna ge' me some a dat honey now...." 

The belt cracided in the air revengefully, the tip biting into the left 
cheek of her buttocks with a sickening slap. Cora whined into the pillow 
from agony and kicked her legs out, arching her back. 

"Time for da Colonel's wife to beg for-somethin' hot and hard," she heard 
him taunt. 

Cora's lips refused to movfi, to consent, to beg him for mercy. The belt 
sang through the air again, this time stinging across her naked thighs. 
Again it slapped, raising red welts over the small of heY back. She spasmed, 
and fearful he might-have really hurt her, he stopped, watching her golden 
body tremble in' fear. Mayor Dillon had said no blood. Christ, maybe she was 
dead! Entwinfng his fingers in her hair, he lifted her head limply off the 
pillow and glowered into her tear-filled eyes. 

Cora blinked open wetted eyes only to stare at the Jamaican's hardened cock, 
throbbing with lust. It out-sized Carlos' by a full inch, she thought, mixed 
with awe and dread. The will to fight had left her weak and vulnerable. One 
woman against three men was unfavorable odds no matter how you added it up. 

Mayor Dillon placed a quick call to the police department, inquiring of any 
reports that might have been placed within the past hour or so. None wen 
reported. "Damn!" Earl snapped his fingers and pooched out beefy" lips. 
Fuckin' filthy peasants probably took off with the fifty bucks and got 
drunk, dir-tie Commies! One hundred and fifty smackers out of his own 
pocket. Rage seared his veins. Decisively, he scraped back his swivel chair, 
punched the intercom to inform his secretary he'd be out of the office for a 
couple of hours, and slipped behind the wheel of his black El Dorado heading 
for the army base. 

Now his breath came in shallow pants, as having left his car in the space 
designated "For Official Cars Only", he crept down the cobblestone driveway 
past the mailbox with Nelson scrawled in red and, hunching down, skirted the 
garage wall. Every'house on base was built from the same floor plan, so he 
was reasonably certain the Colonel fucked his hot-assed Latino wife behind 
the last window on this side of the house. 

Now Earl Dillon's mayoral eyes judiciously peered through the nose-level 
bedroom window to get a peek inside. Through the window he could hear 
screams, female and frightened; he grinned and licked his lips, pleased with 
himself for coughing up the hundred and fifty bucks to make certain Cora 
Nelson squawked to the press about what raping assholes the Cuban refugees 
were, so they'd ship the filthy mess back to that Commie Castro and quit 
pounding their fists for the county welfare department to cough up money to 
feed these ungrateful unAmericans! Just by virtue of the fact that three of 
them would accept a measly fifty bucks to fuck a Cuban born American proved 
what untrustworthy snakes they were! 

On the other side of the white framed wall, Ricki ransacked the 
refrigerator, opening Tupperware-sealed cold cuts and assorted cheeses, 
taking a bite out of this and that, feeding himself with both hands while he 
supposedly kept watch, while Carlos went for the liquor cabinet to guzzle 
and slurp. 

Preening his ear to the window, the Mayor's eyes bugged piggishly at the 
soul rending scream of Cora Nelson trying to save her life. 

"DO ANYTHING YOU WANT, BUT PLEASE DON'T HIT ME ... PLEASE!" A pause, cries 
muffling into the pillow. Then "FUCK ME ... FUCK ME WITH YOUR CUBAN 
COCK...." 

Damned good boys, smirked Earl. Knew I could count on 'em. He rubbed his 
hands together, cleaning his palms of any ill-doing, and grinning toothily 
peered curiously through the window for a peek at Colonel Nelson's hot-assed 
wife. 

On her marital bed, sobbing Cora gave out one low whimper before her body 
went limp. 

Juan stood above her. He'd made her beg and now it was time to deliver the 
goods. She had submitted, the arrogant bitch, and drained of resistance, she 
was his. His black eyes ran over her body, noting the slenderness of her 
proportions which lacked the fleshiness typical of mature Cuban women. 

Cora stretched unmoving across the mattress, unable and afraid of stretching 
her pain wracked body. The slashing belt had beaten down defiance; at least 
she'd shown them a thread of courage. They must take her by sheer brute 
force. 

Sweaty hands were moving over her shoulders and back, rubbing softly as if 
to ask forgiveness. "Take a good look at ma black cock 'cause it's gonna be 
rammed up yo'r Cuban belly...." 

Wearily, she raised her head and stared at the chocolate brown hunk of young 
flesh he brandished over her head. It glistened like polished stone. Her 
brown eyes traced a slow path up his muscle rippling body to his grinning 
face sheened with sweat. Futilely, her eyes pleaded for mercy, but in its 
place triumph and blazing lust shone. 

"Nice, ain' it?" 

She gasped for breath, but nothing intelligible came out. 

"Huh?" he snarled. 

"Yes...." she squeezed back a tear. "It-it's beautiful," she faltered 
through fear and humiliation, her tremulous voice music to Mayor Dillon's 
ears. 

Cora's head dropped leadenly back on the bed, just as laughter from the 
doorway stung her ears. She gulped. Carlos and the other one ... now there 
were three to maime and torture her ravaged body. 

They made obscene jokes in Cuban, snatches of which she heard; the remainder 
she closed her ears to. They talked about her as if she were an alleycat 
begging to be fucked. If only Leo ... no, he wouldn't be home for another 
three hours and three hours with three hate-filled Cuban refugees could be a 
deadly long time! 

Her body spasmed then as a body dropped to the mattress beside her. Here it 
comes ... She shivered from the touch of a warm body rolling against the 
length of her shuddering back. One chocolate eye peeked open to see 
someone's hands untying the knotted neckties that bound her to the bed 
slavishly. Of course she wouldn't run now, they had her pinned and the belt 
thrashing had drained her of the strength or will to fight. Hands, roughly 
calloused hands, were slowly forcing her knees apart. 

Cora fought to clamp her legs shut, but their tougher, younger strength won, 
and in a flash of bitterness she realized the boys raping her were Cuban 
just as herself. That hurt. 

Now the one lying beside her rolled over and rolled between her shapely 
thighs as they were stretched out wide across the coverlet, until her toes 
hung on either side of the rumpled bedclothes. A tiny moan bubbled from her 
laxly parted lips, bleeding from self-abuse as she felt the rubbery warmth 
of an erect male organ pressing into the soft flesh of her quivering thigh, 
just below her cuntal lips. 

Juan wiggled forward, wedging the hunk of dark flesh along the vulnerable 
crevice of her ass cheeks. In silent protest, Cora desperately writhed her 
hips to free herself, but to no avail. 

"Get up on yo' knees," the voice boomed in slurred English. 

It was the dark one with the rotten teeth and filthy hair, she realized, and 
the hard pressure at the bottom of her spine was his bib cock and she knew, 
too, that he wanted to fuck her from behind-like a dog. Hot streams of anger 
and mortification rolled down her cheeks. 

Powerfully, he gripped her hips, pulling them up from the bed, another hand 
firmly behind her neck to keep her breasts and face down on the mattress. 
She groaned in humiliation at the thought of her full-mooned buttocks waving 
high in the air, offering her moist, warm cuntal hole to this diseased 
animal! 

Behind her, Juan stared at the perfect white ass and for a few agonizing 
moments, he scraped his hot cudgel within the warm valley of her buttocks, 
grinding and squeezing the trembling flesh to form a warm, luscious pocket 
of flesh to masturbate in. Slowly, then, he moved back and gently slid his 
fingers down to the thin red folds of her pussy, softly caressing the 
delicate tissues with a gentility that shocked her. Already he could feel an 
oily moisture wetting the soft insides of her thighs as she let her backside 
slip wider apart. 

True, the Colonel's wife fought to hold back a moan that rumbled from deep 
within her sex-starved soul. The lessening of the pain, the unexpected 
tender touch of Juan's touch, and her own fatigue plotted against her to 
weaken defenses. Despite the ugliness of her plight, she felt a searing hot 
flame lick at her bowels while devilish pinpricks of desire oozed from her 
perspiring flesh, following the trail of Juan's fingers teasing up between 
her quivering thighs. His raspish breathing hissed in her ears and Carlos' 
salacious laughter as he drained a pint of Jack Daniels. 

Proudly Juan ran his middle finger all the way into the depths of her cunt. 
Cora bolted, protesting the sudden intrusion and the ragged hangnail boring 
into the tender innards of her vagina. He fucked deeper, smiling wider as 
she responded and screwed back on his hand with a sigh of resignation. 

I have to pretend I want it ... defiance doesn't work with these animals! 
Closing her eyes to shut out the ugly reality, she fooled herself into 
thinking that was Leo, her dear Leo, boring into his wife's cunt. A t least 
I should get some pleasure out of this torture! she reasoned bitterly, 
knowing these boys were one thousand percent more potent than her ailing 
husband! 

Her breath came in short pants as he slipped his bony finger in and out of 
her jerking buttocks. Cora Nelson would never have attributed raw lustful 
desire to the muscles deep within her belly milking at his finger ... or the 
cries that lowered into one continuous moan as Juan withdrew his finger from 
the sucking depths of her warmly seeping hole and began massaging her. hard 
throbbing clitoris. Teasing at it thumpingly, he watched her buttocks churn, 
egging him on. 

Cora chewed on her lip, tasting blood. God help me ... I'm ... I'm going to 
cum! Against her will, she sensed her cunt flower wider until warm honeyed 
love juices trickled down the insides of her golden, creamy thighs. 

Juan grinned and licked his lips. He moved snugly up against her, pressing 
his cock into the split of her buttocks, relishing in the warm friction 
created by naked contact. He ground his hips into her wet .and glistening 
ass cheeks, making his cock tingle and ache with expectancy. 

"Hey, man, watch this!" she heard Juan mutter. 

"Man, you better be makin' it fast ... we all gottE. get a crack at tha' 
ass!" protested Carlos from the sidelines. 

Juan knelt behind her, the fat swollen head of his seeping cock pressing 
against the tight, elastic opening of her pussy. Cora felt it begin a slow 
prodding and working against the warm, soft folds, parting then', and 
forcing its way past the ring of warm flesh open ing onto the treasure of 
her married womb. 

"Unnnggghh...." she gasped, feeling the tendei lips of her vagina being 
stretched wide as he thrust into her, taking her by surprise, clearing her 
mind of the fear-heavy daze hovering terrifyingly over her since the first 
snap of the belt. Now her body spasmed and her cuntal walls throbbed and 
burned from the size oi his penis drubbing up into her quivering belly. 

The degradation stuck in her throat like bad meat ... held captive on her 
marital bed with two salty-bodied refugees holding her down while their 
friend fucked her from behind. What choice had she? 

Unwanted thrills of devilish excitation shuddered through her body as she 
realized this was her punishment for committing adultery with Carlos, and 
that had branded her as an easy target for more abuse. She must accept that 
damnation, she decided, undulating her buttocks in circles in rhythm to the 
long, thick cock fucking up into her seeping pussy. 

"Shhheeeeit," whooped Juan. "Tight pussy ... tight pussy...." 

Tears of shame stung her eyes, but Cora pressured back, hoping that might 
hold him in place. Not to be. He lunged into her again, forcing another inch 
of rubbery flesh into her vagina. He's not even in yet, she realized, 
clenching her buttocks muscles together to keep him from boring up into her 
intestines and pulverizing her. 

"Please ... cum now ... please...." 

"Ain" ready.,. no, man," grunted Juan. Her wiggling incited him, and he 
rammed forward until his bloated cock head slammed into her tender cervix 
and his balls slammed down against her throbbing clitoris. 

Gawd ... why can't this be Leo? It was candy to a starving child. 

It felt as if her buttocks were being ripped apart, but that sawing hunk of 
flesh kept fucking deep into her. Then she felt someone's hand softly 
stroking the white globes of her quivering buttocks. More hands kneaded and 
squeezed at her melonous breasts, nipping at her nipples until they became 
little bumblebees of joy, buzzing with excitation. Inside her belly, the 
cock flexed like a clenching fist, stretching and soothing her ravished cunt 
as gradually the size of him became a pleasure. 

A hand coursed along her spine, following the bony ridges down to the split 
of her ass where, without warning, a finger dug deep into the buttery depths 
of her rectum. 

"AAAAAGGGGHHHH...!" she groaned in real pain, before rationale, dictated 
that relaxing the muscles would eliminate the pain. It did ... and a 
strangely forbidden new kind of pleasure-pain rattled through her captive 
body. I deserve to be hurt, she reminded herself dully, her body spasming 
from Juan's deep thrusts boring into her exposed cunt. 

With long, practiced strokes Juan bored into her, feeling power ripple 
through him as he held her hips down in total subjection to the rock hard 
penis skewering into her. The soft, fleshy ridges deep inside her widened 
willingly for his cock. That stinking army base camp was hell, but if he 
could get fifty bucks for stickin' it to the Colonel's wife ... America 
wasn't such a bad place. They call it 'qual opp 'tunity. 

He stretched the quivering moons of her buttocks wide as they would go, 
watching the pink folds of wet glistening flesh cling tightly around his 
stalk of flesh. In the crevice of her ass, Carlos ground his twisting finger 
deeper, circling and expanding her anal hole. 

And Ricki had shed doubt and joined in the fray, sitting on the edge of the 
bed munching a sandwich with one hand while the other mauled Cora's flawless 
breast flesh. With every lunge, Juan thundered into her, bursting and 
growing inside her belly, flinging Cora's wet hair against Ricki's thighs. 

With pagan fervor, Juan fucked into her, his cock growing from the sight of 
his buddies' hands mauling at her every sensual inch of naked, shivering 
flesh. Her breath came in one long sigh, her face turned sideways on the 
pillow to facilitate breathing. Her face was scrunched up with passion, 
cries of pleasure-pain hissing through clenched teeth. 

Ricki, gulping down the last of his sandwich, forgot about Colonel Nelson's 
humanistic intents and went for his wife, bellowing up at Juan: "Hey, I 
gonna get 'er from the front, ya know?" 

Cora sensed a movement around her head and felt the mattress dropping in 
front of her as a heavy weight descended upon it. Strong hands lifted her 
shoulders until she rested on her hands and knees and then something spongy 
and wet pressed against her parted lips. Her eyes flew opan and a long, hard 
golden cock nestled in fleecy pubic curls dangled in front of her face. She 
gazed up into the boy's face, recognized it as the toothless one, and then a 
hard lunge from Juan drove her forward, her lips slipping over the cock in 
front of her. 

Ricki knelt nakedly on the bed in front of her, grunting, gasping, then as 
he poked his fingers in her ears and cupping her head in his palms, rammed 
his cock into her mouth. The rubbery bluntness of the bloated head sliding 
the length of her ticklish tongue, lifted her concentration from the 
delirious fucking boring into her belly. Lordie, now there were two of them 
... naked flesh in back, naked flesh in front! 

Leo ... Llleooo! 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Outside the Nelson's bedroom window, the sun burst in a cloudless, Kansas 
sky ... inside the Colonel's wife's sweat glistening body burst with one 
penis drubbing into her vagina and one sawing into her mouth. 

Cora gagged as Ricki's cock rammed half way down her throat, creating a 
strange mixture of Ricki's cock juices and her own drooling saliva. Her 
cheeks puffed as he shoved forward, cramming his burgeoning maledom past her 
tonsils, keeping a drum beat pace with the cock fucking into her from 
behind. 

Ricki's hairy testicles bounced against her dimpled chin and the odor of boy 
sweat and sexual juices filled her nostrils with a constant reminder of her 
rape. 

The tide began rising in the pit of her belly ... and the helplessness of 
her plight thundered in her brain. Two wildly raping boys were using her 
body for their own perverted juvenile pleasures. Could she help it if Leo 
hadn't been keeping up his end of the marital bargain? She could live with 
'the rich or for poor' part of the vow, but where that that sanctified 
document state a woman had to deny herself sex? 

She wanted them to cum, knew that would end this physical and metal torture; 
wanted them to shoot their young sperm into her womb and mouth. Yes, she 
wanted to swallow their cum and feel it trickling in sticky rivers down her 
thighs. Sucking and fucking like a mechanical doll running down its 
batteries, she felt her own orgasm building ... and knew she had to cum, 
too! 

The cock sawing into her pussy inflated and erupted, spewing white hot 
streams into her clasping belly. Cora's love juices gushed too, and she 
groaned and thrashed, moaned and sputtered around Ricki's cock while Carlos' 
stormed into her cervix. In front, Ricki crushed his loins into her reddened 
face, sinking the length of his golden cock down to the smelly, hairy pubic 
fleece into her gagging throat. A soul searing groan shattered the air and 
tears stung her eyes as Cora's mouth was flooded with hot, thick liquid. She 
gulped down the sweet, salty taste, tears rolling down her satiny cheeks. 

Often the elimination of choice eliminates responsibility for action as 
well, and that's precisely what happened to Cora Nelson as the two spewing 
pe-nises became her existence. Her own wildly quivering body shuddered and 
spasmed as the still warm droplets of Ricki's cum dribbled from the corners 
of her ravaged mouth as he collapsed in front of her and his limp cock 
slithered wetly from her still sucking mouth. 

Weakened from orgasm and fear, Cora collapsed to the bed as Juan's cock 
slipped limply from her ravished pussy and gushes of air rushed to cool the 
unplugged hole. Cora lay panting in utter exhaustion praying the refugees 
would leave her to her own shame, when one chocolate eye peeped through the 
swollen lid to see Carlos stroking his swollen boyish penis. 

"No ... I've ... I've had enough ... please ... you've had your fun," she 
begged, her drying, uncombed hair clinging to her perspiring forehead and 
her apple cheeks riper from the exertion of an hour's debauchery. 

But Carlos' animal instincts were preened for survival and cognizant of the 
punishment for rape, he wasn't about to take unnecessary risks. Instinct 
told him they had company. Cora followed the direction of his piercing gaze 
as it led toward the doorway. 

A lump of fear stuck in Cora's throat. Don't let it be Leo! No, the heavy 
breathing definitely belonged to someone not in the military. Leo's law and 
order mentality wouldn't balk at the doorjam! 

The intruder in the hallway froze, plastering herself to the hallway as the 
grunts and groans of tortured lovemaking died in her ears. Dizzy with drink 
and rising passions, she gulped, eyes stinging with shame as Ricki sauntered 
quietly to the doorway, the sticky tube of his penis wagging between skinny, 
hairy thighs. 

He returned the victor, dragging behind him the terrified intruder. 

Cora's eyes saucered and humiliation rippled along her spine. 

"JOYCE!" she gulped, raising her cum-splattered face from the bed smelling 
of sex juices. 

Of the four startled, bewildered people, none was more shocked than Mayor 
Dillon who, up on alligator shoed tiptoes, gaped slack-jawed through the 
window at the ashen face of his inebriated wife. 

Perhaps the wine warming her stomach had worked on her defenses, numbing the 
safety valves of the defense machine. The black El Dorado with MAYOR printed 
on the white license plate, parked in the Official Parking Lot should have 
alerted her; and the Nelson's front door left wide open should have rattled 
her senses, if the uncharacteristic mess in the kitchen didn't. 

She had pulled up outside the Nelson's house, expecting to be greeted at the 
door by Cora's predictably smiling face ... instead of muffled distress 
signals from somewhere in back of the house. Frightened, she'd whispered out 
Cora's name and hearing no reply, had investigated the mysterious sounds 
from beyond. 

Now Joyce stared in fascinated horror at the three naked, hard muscled 
refugees and Cora Nelson's spread-eagled body laying on the rumpled bed. A 
moment ago, she'd caught them in the throes of one righteous menage a trois, 
something she hadn't experienced since she slipped the Mayor's ring on her 
finger ... the day her vagina seemed to have frozen up for good. 

She had witnesssed the respectable Colonel's wife kneeling on her hands and 
knees while two boys using her mouth and cunt stroked her to orgasm, while a 
third jabbed his middle finger up the brown button of her anus! How lucky 
could one woman get! had been her green-eyed reaction. Lordie, to feel a man 
(just one) pumping into her like that, filling her belly and making her feel 
like a woman! 

A thunderstorm of sensation clouded her wine-sodden senses and, instead of 
retreating, she'd moved back into the hallway and slipping one hand under 
her dress, had tried to stroke the oily nub of her clitoris to orgasm. 
Blonde head pressed tight to the wall, knees bent to facilitate the red 
lacquered fingertip dipping into the crying hole of her cunt, Ricki had 
discovered her compromising posture. 

Now, blushing in humiliation before three naked boys and Cora, of all 
people, once more Lawrence had cause to gossip about the Mayor's hussy wife! 
Fear caught in her throat. 

Ricki, his trust of Mayor D'illon eroded further by the discovery, thrust 
the new captive forward and grabbed the hem of her dress, pulling it up over 
Joyce's swelling thighs to show off the roll of panties and panty hose 
straddling the Mayor's wife's knees. "She been fuckin' herself back there," 
he grinned. 

"Don' the Mayor gives ya none?" jibed Juan, popping his sweat shiny body up 
on one elbow. 

A corner of Joyce's reddened lips curled in a hesitant smile. Wordlessly, 
she stood frozen in place, not certain she even wanted to escape from what 
could be one promising afternoon. How long now had-it been since she'd been 
really satisfied by anything but her finger? The smell of sex, steaming in 
the air, was like food to a starving refugee. Her body raged with lust she 
knew Earl would never put out. 

"Joyce ... help me!" burst Cora, her naked body rippling with shame. "These 
refugees ... they ... they've raped me...!" she cried. 

Juan tutted tauntingly down at her and shook his head. "I ain' hear'd you 
complain none ... you don' want it, gib some ta da Mayor's wife." 

Inwardly, Joyce shivered in acquiesence. Cuban refugee cock? That was all 
right with her! She thought dramatically. I need sex! that's why I drink so 
much ... if only Earl understood that! 

Had Earl anything to do with this rape? wondered the Mayor's wife, 
fleetingly, not wanting to waste time on speculation when the real, pulsing 
cocks of three virile boys made tastey past time. 

"Man ... les' get the Colonel's wife and da Mayor's suckin' each other 
off...." blurted out Juan, the hellbent instigator of the Freedom Flotilla 
ravishers. 

Joyce stared into the youth's eyes, certain she hadn't heard correctly. Her 
mascared eyelashes blinked as her blue eyes moved to Cora's face. "No ... 
I've never ... no...." she wrung her hands. "Not with Colonel Nelson's wife 
... not Cora!" The women's eyes sparred in commiserating despair. "Cora ... 
we can't ... I mean ... don't think I don't care for you, honey ... but 
I...." 

Cora's mouth trembled as she whimpered "They beat me with a belt, Joyce ... 
because I wouldn't do as they said ... we'd better." 

Joyce gulped and nodded, her eyes trailing over the ivory flesh of Cora's 
thighs and backside still carrying pale red traces of what must have been 
one horrible beating. A whipping ... with a belt? Joyce shuddered. She knew 
how it felt to be beaten by a man. Slowly, as if in some kind of trance, she 
reached behind her and yanked down the zipper of her dress. Slipping the 
garment off her shoulders, she let it drop to the carpeted floor, careless 
of letting Cora see the humiliating bruise splotching her right arm. She 
wore only panty hose, panties and a bra. 

The boys in the room gasped at the creamy, white swells of the Mayor's 
wife's nakedness. Compared to the Colonel's wife's thin, golden nudity, 
Joyce's fleshiness made tantalizing contrast. 

Joyce's flesh was so creamy you wanted to lick it. Her reputedly heavy 
breasts were just that-overflowing the scanty lace brassiere she wore above 
her full Hellinistic proportioned hips and thighs. Even Cora lifted her head 
in amazement at the marbly flesh that contrasted so sharply with the dark 
brown thatch of her pubic hair that contrasted starkly with the bleached 
blonde hair haloing her lovely face. Cora's body still shivered from orgasm 
of a three-way rape, and now her sympathies went out to the humiliated 
Mayor's wife. Her eyes fell on the bruise and knew Joyce was a victim of 
marital abuse. That saddened her deeply and not wanting the goodhearted 
woman to suffer the physical abuses she had at the hands of these riotous 
refugees, she crooked a finger at her captive lover-to-be. 

"Let me help you with your bra," she whispered throatily. 

The Mayor's wife balked for a moment, then strode reluctantly over to stand 
beside the bed where Cora slowly rose and with effort, stood beside the 
taller woman, her eyes roving with female curiosity over the full rounded 
body, perfumey and clean. 

I have to make it easy for poor Joyce ... living witha tyrant like Earl ... 
obviously he beats her! She winced at the yellowing bruise with its smaller 
companion on the underside of her fleshy arm. Trembling fingers worked at 
the clasps of Joyce's lacy brassiere, gently pulling the garment away from 
her shoulders. Cora dropped the flimsy lace underthing to the floor, then 
tantatively reached out to touch the goosebumped pale, gleaming skin of 
Joyce's breasts. They jutted from the woman's body like ripe melons, their 
large, puffy nipples the ruddy beige color of fawn's skin. 

No one was more shocked than the Mayor himself as he watched with mixed 
horror and fascination the blatantly sexual attack on his wife's shivering 
flesh by the Colonel's wife whose fingers traced a trembling path to the 
smoothness of his wife's back to unfasten her brassiere. 

Never having seen two women make physical contact-except to fight over a 
dead chicken in the dirt-floored shanties the Cubans called home back in 
Castro's land-Juan grew impatient. "Suck each other ... kiss 'er tits, 
woman!" To show he meant business, he groped for the belt lying like a dead 
snake on the bedroom floor. 

The women winced, cringing with threats. Cora gulped down pride and 
obediently reached out a trembling finger to trace the swell of Joyce's firm 
breasts, circling and finally coming to rest on the sensitive tips. 

Cora felt a strange arousal at her own bravery. Again, what choice had she? 
Perform their sexual perversions or be beaten? Boldly she gazed into Joyce's 
face to see the effect of her tentative caresses as she squeezed and pinched 
the rosy areolas into titillating diamond chips. Joyce's eyelids fluttered 
in ecstatic rapture as beneath Cora's busy fingers the soft flesh tightened 
ticklishly. 

Earl watched in horror as the smile grew on '..is wife's lust-contorted 
face. What kind of cheating bitch was she? She shivered with disgust every 
time he lay a finger on her drunken body ... but she obviously felt no 
repulsion at letting another bitch squeeze her tits. 

His fists balled up with rage. The bitch would get it tonight! What 
alternative did she leave him ... but to belt her around a bit? A man 
couldn't take that kind of neglect and still be a man! 

Cora slipped her hands down the Mayor's wife's belly and began to tug at the 
roll of her panty hose and panties straddling her knees. As she bent down to 
gently roll the wad over Joyce's legs, her fevered cheeks brushed against 
the dark brown patch of Joyce's bushy pubic curls. A moan of ecstasy rumbled 
from Joyce's throat ... something far better than listening to her cry from 
the sting of Juan's belt, decided Cora. 

"We have to do as they say ... please understand, Joyce," pleaded Cora, 
dissolving guilt. 

The trio of refugees stared with disbelieving eyes at the sight of the 
Mayor's wife rippling with lust from the gentle touch of the Colonel's 
wife's cajoling touch. Ricki stroked his naked cock and moaned in 
frustration, as did Carlos who knew his turn was next. 

Cora's ragged breathing broke through the stillness of the Kansas scorching 
afternoon as she slid Joyce's panties down over her rounded hips and thighs, 
gently lifting one ankle then to help Joyce step free. Carelessly, she 
tossed away the panties, then crouched beside her; caressively, she wound 
her arms around Joyce's legs before slowly running her palms up the in-sides 
of the woman's silken thighs. Above her, Joyce trembled and groaned in the 
agony of twisted emotions. 

"No ... don't do th-this for my sake, honey," she cooed, reaching down to 
entwine her red lacquered fingertips in the Colonel's wife's black, 
shimmering hair, soft as baby down. "Let them beat me ... I ... I won't let 
them touch you ... please...." She sucked in her breath and threw back her 
bleached blonde hair. Just too tempting it was, and if she relented now, 
Joyce knew she would be throwing away the last thread of decency and that 
would mean reliance on booze to alleviate guilt and shame. "Please ... honey 
... I can't stand it!" 

A smile pulled at the corner of Cora's lovely mouth as she moved her hands 
upward until her fingertips grazed the soft, sparse hairs framing Joyce's 
pussy. Something had snapped inside her today, spilling inhibitions. Her 
body refused to quiet down. Little devilish pinpricks stabbed at the heart 
of her pussy, begging to be itched ... this time from the touch of a ripe 
bodied woman in the form of one Joyce Dillon. 

Joyce, feeling Cora's soft hands gently nudging her backwards onto the 
Nelson's marriage bed, felt a jumble of confusion and indecision mouht 
treacherously. Once ... before she'd met Earl, she'd experienced a woman 
sucking and licking at her burning vagina, and though she'd chalked it up to 
a drunken spree which she rationalized away, she'd sworn to never repeat the 
lesbian lovemaking for fear of rusting Earl's reputation. 

Well damned Earl to hell! ... she decided. What's he ever done for me? 

Compliantly, she tumbled onto the bed as her knees touched the edge of the 
mattress and then scrambled compliantly onto the sweat warmed sheets. 
Joyce's eyes riveted on Cora's face and a queasy sensation of expectancy 
sent butterflies dancing in her stomach. Cora's dark eyes gleamed as gently 
she pushed Joyce down onto her back, then lay stretched out beside her. 
Joyce felt the heat of Cora's body next to her own, thigh rubbing against 
smooth thigh, silken belly against her hip, with breasts crushed against 
Joyce's rib cage with each of the hard pink nipples jabbing into her 
shivering flesh. 

The three Cuban refugees were too stunned to react. Mesmerized, they pulled 
at their cocks, wondering if American women spent idle afternoons rubbing 
each other's naked bodies while the dishwasher hummed in the kitchen and 
microwave ovens made tonight's dinner. The land of milk and honey-and 
devilish women ... that was America! 

Caressingly, Cora took Joyce's face in her hands and wanting to silence the 
other's fears, she pressed her soft lips warmly to Joyce's quivering lips. 
So gently done was it, that Joyce wasn't aware of the exact moment Cora's 
tongue floated into her mouth. Joyce's breath came in short gasps, and the 
thrills of long denied delicious sex thundered between her legs as her 
cuntal muscles expanded and contracted in delight-filled anticipation that 
all but drove her insane. Licking and sucking at Cora's tongue swirling in 
her mouth, the Mayor's wife let out a cooing wail of surrender. She could 
have cum right then ... could have let the sweet sex juices flow from the 
heart of her neglected womb, but the sensation was too delicious. It need be 
savored. 

Cora slipped one leg over Joyce's firm upper thighs, rubbing her swollen 
clitoris over Cora's firm hip bone. An electric shock coursed through her at 
the contact, shuddering as she realized that Cora's hand was moving up 
toward her melonous breasts, stroking and massaging her snow white flesh 
with feathery touches., "Ohhh ... aggghhh...." Joyce moaned in delight as 
Cora's lips left her own and began kissing and nibbling their way softly 
down to the breast she now held tightly in her small, warm hand. Cora's 
hands became aggressive then, squeezing and pushing the mounds up high so 
that bending her head, her lips made hungry contact with the puffy, 
over-sized nipples. 

Joyce had reached sensual nirvana! Trembling with passion, she felt Cora 
reluctantly release her claim on one of Joyce's breasts to reach down and 
entangle her pink polished nails in Joyce's soft dark pubic curls. A moment 
later, her long middle finger began sliding up and down the damp slit 
between the Mayor's wife's trembling thighs, maddeningly avoiding all 
contact with the nub of her swollen clitoris, making Joyce quiver and moan 
with tantalizing frustration and the burning need to cum ... which she 
covetously thwarted. This was too sweet a torture to end so soon! 

Wanting this to be good for Joyce (and subconsciously wanting it to be good 
for herself), Cora slid her finger back into the damp crevice until it 
reached the rubbery pucker of Joyce's hotly twitching rectum. 

The two women went beserk, grinding their naked bodies against each other in 
the heat of the Kansas afternoon, leaving their three male attackers to 
stare in slack-jawed awe. Cora sank her teeth into the tender flesh of 
Joyce's breast, trying to cram the milky orb into her mouth. The pain in 
Joyce's rectum had subsided and gently Cora began to move her finger in and 
out, back and forth in the tiny quivering hole, boring deeper. The puckered 
ring had clenched so tightly on Cora's knuckle that it sucked right in with 
each movement of the Colonel's wife's squirming finger. 

From deep within her chest and deep within her hungry soul, Joyce moaned out 
her appreciation. The pain in her rectum dissipated, and she moved her naked 
buttocks in a frantic effort to suck the invading digit in all the way to 
her bowels! Flexing and unflexing muscles she hadn't exercised in years, she 
found herself building toward a screeching climax. Her body worked toward 
the badly needed peak of lust. To have that deliciously slender finger 
screwing her anus was wonderful ... but to have something virile and potent 
fucking into her cunt would have been a Godsend! 

Somebody in the room was reading her mind. Suddenly Joyce felt strong arms 
tugging at her body, pulling her away from Cora's frantically churning 
buttocks. "Ohhh ... noooo!" she groaned in frustration and anger as they 
were being torn apart, separating their luscious female flesh. So damned 
close ... God, why had she held back her orgasm? Joyce glanced up.... 

... into Carlos' lecherously grinning face. A swirl of black hair dipped 
over his silken, golden forehead. His dark eyes shone with the lustful 
promise of fulfillment. Joyce let out an anxious sigh, her eyes falling to 
the spike of Carlos' jutting, purple knobbed penis, spearing out from a 
curled mass of shimmering pubic kinks. Disappointed, Joyce watched the Cuban 
refugee crawl onto the squeaking bed and crawl between Cora's spread eagled 
body. 

"Eiii...." Joyce sucked in her breath, her breasts heaving with red hot 
lust. She threw back her head and wailed out her need. "Oh, Gawddd!" pleaded 
the Mayor's wife. "Somebody fuck me ... I'm burning up inside!" Lewdly, she 
stretched wide the ivory columns of her quivering thighs so that all three 
refugees could stare dumb struck at the seeping hole of her vagina where the 
nub of her clitoris stood out like a throbbing red heart. "Look at me!" she 
wailed, face contorted with lust. "I need a man...!" Fearful they might 
ignore her, as she'd long been ignored by Earl, she arched her back, threw 
back her head and, with the soft pad of her index finger stroked the magic 
red button in swirling circles while her other hand held wide open the 
swollen, ragged flanges of her needful cunt. 

"Holy sheeet!" mumbled Carlos, watching the Mayor's wife masturbating 
herself to one rip roaring orgasm. "Lemme do that!" Abandoning Cora, he 
nimbly scrambled for Joyce's quivering body. Grasping her hips, he jerked 
Joyce toward him until her buttocks hung slightly over the edge of the bed 
and her legs splayed out on either side of his taut, golden muscled body. 
Grabbing his cock like a fireplace poker, he aimed it at the fiery hole of 
her pussy and lunged forward with violence. 

The eight inch penis drove hard and straight into its target until the two 
sperm filled balls slapped hard against the sensitive, already teased ring 
of Joyce's long neglected anus. The contact was electrocuting, damningly 
wonderful! 

If Joyce Dillon had feared the illiterate refugees her husband so detested 
from the day they'd arrived uninvited to his fair city ... the fear and 
prejudism had evaporated into an artful appreciation of what a fifteen 
year-old prick could do for a thirty-eight year old woman! 

The thin soft edges of her pussy clung lovingly to the penis as it slowly 
withdrew and she screwed her ass down into the mattress. The fiery thrusts 
that brought her body to blazing life, pushed the soft fleshy fold back into 
her. Like a never-ending oil drill, the glistening brown cock bored into the 
warm dark wonders of Joyce's welcoming cuntal hole. Joyce Dillon had reached 
nirvana, and she damned Earl and his niggardly sensuality and she damned 
this snobbish, hick town for not welcoming these hard bodied refugee boys 
with cocks like Lawrence, Kansas women had never seen! Bunch of dumb wheat 
farmers, snickered Joyce inwardly. 

For a faltering moment, Joyce thought of Earl and experienced a brief spasm 
of guilt ... but Carlos' next thrust into her buttery depths wiped clean 
senseless guilt and brought her crashing back to reality again. 

The bed creaked and groaned as Ricki climbed between Cora's legs, taking 
Carlos' place, and they fucked like alley cats on a full moon night. Her 
eyes rolled like marbles in her head and delirious from lesbian lovemaking, 
she caught sight of Juan behind her, looking disgruntedly neglected as he 
waited, pumping his cock in his hungry fist, for Ricki and Carlos' to cum so 
he could take one of their places. 

Joyce eyed the unused erection desirously and with a grunt, she slithered 
over closer to the edge of the bed and wrapped her delicate fist around the 
bloodfed stalk, yanking it toward the milky vee of her cleavage. She'd let a 
woman maul her breasts and strip her naked ... why stop now? Pushing her 
milky mounds together invitingly, she winked up into Juan's dark face. 

For a discontented moment, Carlos stopped fucking the seeping hole between 
Joyce's legs, while his Jamaican friend knelt above her generously endowed 
chest. Lubricating his bone hard cock with a drop of spittle, he wedged the 
hunk of flesh between her tightly pressed breasts and gritted his teeth from 
the tantalizing warmth. The two boys used the Mayor's wife's body in unison, 
stroking in long, delicious strokes. 

Joyce's eyes rolled in rapture; she moaned in whispering contentment as she 
watched the pulsating shining head of Juan's cock peeking through the valley 
of her cleavage at the same time the swarthy faced stud's prick fucked 
against her tingling cervix so hard his penis doubled over at the end. 
"Ahhhh GAWWWDDDD ... I love to fuck ... ahhhhhgg gg-hhhheeee iiii!Fuck me 
harrrdef!" 

The bed quivered and shook as the three Cuban refugees drove their cocks 
harder into the two women humping on Colonel Nelson's marriage bed. Cora's 
legs were pushed higher and higher ... like bicycle bars ... until Ricki 
pressed her ankles over her quivering shoulders and pinned her to the 
mahogany headboard. Beside her, the bed rocked on all its sturdy posts as 
Joyce took what the two refugees could give her, hammering into her marbly 
body so hard her teeth rattled. Moans of joy and groans of unutterable 
relief tore from the lungs of the two women. 

Outside the window, someone's lungs burned, too. One Earl Dillon stood pale 
and trembling with rage and indecision as his white knuckles clung to the 
win-dowsill and his breath steamed against the windowpane. His jaw worked as 
if chomping on a mouthful of peanuts. The energy burned within him and like 
a steam engine puffing smoke, it needed release. He'd kill the bitch ... and 
that slut of a Colonel's wife! It was her doing. Christ, his Joyce might 
love the bottle, but a lesbian ... never! Lord knew what kind of kinky, 
perverted ideas Cora had filled his wife's head with. He'd always known 
Joyce had a screw loose somewhere ... but she was tightening it fast! 

Cora felt the scalding sperm spurt as Ricki's pintful poured into her 
clasping cunt. Her vaginal muscles contracted and squeezed around his 
spurting cock, sucking at it to pull all of it into her. That first hot 
squirt triggered her own orgasm, and her muscles milked his fifteen year old 
penis like a tugging milking machine. Her body twitched convulsively, the 
tendons cording the insides of her silken thighs standing out in bold 
relief. The Cuban's seething jism showered her quivering belly and when the 
geyser in his balls lessened to a dribble, the flow spilled out the ragged 
lips of her cunt to streak down the smooth white crevice across her still 
twitching buttocks. 

Cora refused to open her eyes, knowing guilt, remorse and a shower of 
horrifying emotions would fill her senses where once uncaring sensuality had 
reigned supreme. A good thing Joyce and her two sweaty rapists distracted 
those thoughts. Blinking her eyes to clear lust-blurred vision, Cora gaped 
at Juan riding Joyce's ribcage, his tawny prick sliding in and out, 
lubricated by his own juices, between her oozing breast flesh that Joyce's 
red lacquered fingertips held pressed desperately together. In Rashaman 
rhythm, Carlos thrust his cock with drum beat tattoos in and out of her 
sucking cunt ... the cunt Mayor Dillon had thought was frozen shut for life! 

"Ohhh ... Gawwwwddd!" yelped the Mayor's wife as a sudden spasm shivered 
through her and a wild twitching sent her humping against them. "I'mmm 
cummming!!!" Her shriek sounded as if she didn't believe it was actually 
happening to her-finally! 

With bestial, pagan fury, the two Cubans fucked into her, their naked bodies 
slapping sweatily against each other, filling the room with lewd squelching 
sounds that seeped through the windowpane to sting Mayor Dillon's ears. 
Anger raged like wildfire along his short circuiting synapses as his wife 
arched her back off the bed and savagely used her heels as spurs to drive 
Carlos deeper into her steaming pussy. 

With one mighty lunge, the young Cuban slammed into her so hard his buttocks 
twitched and rippled as that thrust sent the sensitive head of his cock 
banging against the spongy tip of her cervix. That did it! It was one wild 
hydra of orgasming bodies, legs and arms banging into each other as all 
three groaned out their release. Cum spurted from Joyce's open cunt and 
splattered onto her face and chin as Juan's Jamaican jism shot with white 
hot speed between her goosebumped breasts. 

The Kansas sun slipped westward into a cooling sky, taking with it the 
sweetness of forbidden lust for Cora Nelson. Clouds of guilt stormed with 
blackening guilt. Wearily she lifted her flushed cheeks from the rumpled bed 
and glared at the three naked youths and the Mayor's equally unclothed wife. 

"Get out of here!" she yelped tragically. "Get out of my house right now ... 
you ... you filthy refugees!" Her luscious nudity rippled with hatred and 
disgust. 

Joyce blinked in saucer-eyed bewilderment, fully expecting another bout of 
lovemaking. "But ... '. but Cora...?" 

Cora's lip curled in disgust. She struggled to swallow down the sickening 
reminder of her initiated lesbian advances. "I said all of you ... get out 
of my house and leave me alone!" 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Should he kill her with his fists or should he inflict mental torture and 
kill her with kindness? These thoughts ran through Earl Dillon's adrenalin 
powered brain as he glared at his wife across the dining room table and 
picked at a Stoffer's frozen meat pie that had come out of the microwave 
five minutes before. 

The crowsfeet under her heavily made-up eyes were smooth and her face wore 
the flushed happiness of a sensually satisfied woman. She'd actually 
whistled to herself in the kitchen as she clattered about. Christ, she 
wasn't even drunk as usual ... and the Grandfather clock struck six-thirty! 
Her nonchalant lack of guilt infuriated him, but he fought it, knowing that 
to loose his temper would blow the lid off the cauldron designated for 
Colonel Leo Nelson. 

Picking the peas out of the tepid gravy bathing chunks of stew meat and 
methodically lining them up . alongside the plate, he cleared his throat. 
"You talk to Cora Nelson about how her refugees are wrorkin' out?" he asked 
in a cracking voice. The muscles in the back of his neck tightened like 
bedsprings and sweat beaded his balding forehead as he watched his wife 
daintily dab at her mouth with the corner of a linen napkin and reply in a 
too content sing-songy voice: 

"Yes, sweetheart. I took a spin out to her house and we had coffee and 
talked...." She shivered her shoulders seductively. "Girl talk, you know ... 
No complaints, no complaints at all ... she said the boys did a lovely job 
cleaning her garage...." 

The muscles of Mayor Dillon's jaws meshed, and it wasn't to chew the stew 
meat. Lying fuckin' cunt ... I wonder how many other filthy Commie dicks 
she's fucked behind my back? 

Over a forkful of lettuce, Joyce glared at the jouncing jowls, her mind 
flitting back to the provocative swarthy bodies of Cora Nelson's garage 
cleaners. The one with the curly black hair dipping down over his proud 
forehead and bedroom eyes snapping at her naked bumps and curves remained 
fixed in her guiltless mind's eye. God, how those Cubans could screw! 
Beneath the fabric of her dress, the hardened nubs of her nipples bore the 
chafed sensitivity of Cora Nelson's wildly biting attention. And the 
luscious feel of the Jamaican's stone hard cock drubbing between her milky 
breasts ... squirting hi's cum over her oozing breast flesh so that she 
tasted droplets splattered over her nose and mouth.... 

Who needed wine to calm dangling nerve ends? Sex ... sex was the best 
relaxant imaginable! And I don't have to hide it under the sofa! smirked 
Joyce absent-mindedly. 'Mentally, she calculated how many afternoons a week 
she cou Id spend doing charitable work at the army base camp for the hapless 
refugees. Especially those poor, neglected boys! 

But her sunny mood clouded as her thoughts fled back to Cora, the 
pathetically whimpering creature whose rattling sobs echoed down the hallway 
after Joyce had closed the bedroom door. Poor baby felt so bad! 

Abruptly Joyce's fluttering eyelids leveled on her husband. For an 
embarrassed moment, their eyes sparred. Joyce looked askance and, talking 
down at her plate, she queried: "Why are you so curious if Cora Nelson is 
satisfied with her refugee employees ... dear?" 

Mayor Dillon chewed for a long moment on his tasteless dinner, maintaining a 
level-eyed glare at his wife's questioning gaze and remained reticent. 

Cora fastened the safety lock on the front door, checked the windows and 
neglected the charm of afternoon sunshine. With a languid sigh, she lazed in 
the bathtub, sorting out emotions. The water lapped at her dimpled chin, 
trembling with blackening regret. 

Thank goodness Leo hadn't tried to make love to her last night! After 
changing the sheets and cleaning the evidence from her ravaged womanhood, 
she'd managed magically to throw together the semblances of dinner. But Leo 
wasn't hungry. He'd stomped out of the house, heading for the garage to grab 
the lawn clippers and until the sun denuded the sky of light, he worked 
furiously in the yard, clipping the crab grass from the brick sidewalk. 

That was a habit of his, raping the crab grass when problems plagued him. 
Usually it fatigued him into relaxation, but last night when the Colonel 
stepped into the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and settled 
down before the television set, his face wore the same harried look that had 
exited the kitchen door two hours prior. To tighten the screws of guilt, 
he'd gulped down his beer with uncharacteristic rapacity and slumped into 
bed at nine thirty-five, leaving his guilt-gushing wife to struggle with 
herself to keep from confessing all ... right down to the fingering of Mayor 
Dillon's wife's breast! 

Did Leo know the infidelity that rumpled his bed that afternoon? Had one of 
the Cubans squealed, bragged to his buddies about raping the Colonel's 
wife-the masochistic, sex-starved Colonel's wife? 

Cora faced the new day with courage. She would tell Leo everything tonight, 
and perhaps he could figure out who had paid Carlos and his friends to tie 
her to a bedpost and perform the basest of perversions upon her. 

Those questions chased about her brain even as she wrapped a thirsty 
Jacquard towel about her dripping nudity and ran for the brrrrrrngggg of the 
upstairs telephone. It might be Leo. 

It wasn't. It was Mayor Dillon. 

Cora's satiny forehead wrinkled. What in the world could he want with her? 

"Yes ... I'll be home this afternoon," she offered reluctantly. "I ... I 
guess that would be okay." 

The loathesome speculation of entertaining Mayor Dillon was last on the list 
of desirables for Cora Nelson; but to refuse would potentially endanger 
Colonel Nelson's relations with Earl ... just when Leo was gaining support 
in his fight for the Cuban refugees' welfare rights. 

Forty-five minutes later the hulk of Mayor Dillon's presence shadowed the 
Nelson's front door. 

For a moment, Cora would have sworn he was shaking. "Hello, Mayor ... please 
come in," chimed Cora hypocritically. 

He stepped past her and well inside the house turned and shot her a stare 
that made Cora wonder if Joyce had told her husband of yesterday's uncomely 
actions. Earl's eyes never left Cora's shivering body even as she invited 
him into the living room where he plunked his massive frame into the leather 
easy chair and rested his polished shoes on the ottoman ... a practice Leo 
forbid. 

Earl cleared his throat. "I'm glad I found you unoccupied this afternoon," 
he said, his eyebrows arching on the world 'unoccupied', in a way that made 
Cora's heart leap to her throat and her mind race to digest the cryptic 
message. Could Joyce have deceived her? It seemed the Mayor had an inkling 
about the rape and perhaps his wife's involvement. 

Gathering her courage, she turned a stony face to him. "I'm a very busy 
woman, Mayor ... if you'll come to the point...." 

Mayor Dillon squirmed in his chair, presenting a picture of determination to 
the woman cringing into the sofa across from him. His eyes lifted from 
Cora's defensively crossed ankles, slender and well turned, up the 
stockingless calf to her nipped in waist and flushed cheeks. 

"I'm concerned about the refugees who've come here to work at your house. I 
asked Joyce to call you and find out if everything's been working out okay 
... any problems ... insolence ...?" Here he spread his hands in an 
insinuating, emphatic gesture, his eyes level with hers. 

Cora shook her head dramatically. "No, none ... they've worked very 
well...." 

"Well enough for you to hire two more tomorrow?" He raised his bushy 
eyebrows accusatively and cocked his head to the side, studying her paling 
expression. 

"Why...." the word caught in Cora's throat and a slender fingertip reached 
up to toy with the satin yellow ribbon trailing from her ponytail and down 
over her shoulder. " ... I haven't any more work to be done-" 

Mayor Dillon offered a cryptic grin. "Just out of curiosity, did Joyce drop 
by yesterday ...?" 

"Y-yes," nodded Cora, wanting to wring her hands but willing herself not to. 
"Yes, she did ... we had coffee and chatted ... it was nice seeing Joyce 
again, why we-" 

Mayor Dillon bolted forward in his chair. "You lying bitch!" He jabbed a 
finger toward the outside of the house. "Just for your information, I 
dropped by myself yesterday to find out how the refugees were working 
out-and by God, they were working out ... fucking and sucking you ... you, 
the wife of a respected Colonel, behaving like a slut, grovelling and 
sucking Cuban cock...!" 

Cora's ears pounded with blood. She clamped her dainty hands over her 
shell-like ears and breathed hard enough to shut out the damning accusations 
booming from Mayor Dillon's lungs. He'd been there ... he'd seen ... oh God, 
what will happen to me now? And Joyce ...! 

When she could squeeze shut her eyes no more, and the blood quieted in her 
ears, the brave Colonel's wife let her hands drop and her tear brimming eyes 
stared at her lap, one finger toying with a loose thread on her skirt. 

It was a cool headed, triumphant Mayor who grinned salaciously at his 
opponent's wife now. "I came to get a story for the Gazette, Cora, I didn't 
come here to call you names," he apologized insincerely. But by God, you'll 
suffer for sucking my wife's tits! "In fact," he offered, "I'll make a 
bargain with you ... I won't snitch on you for sucking the Mayor's wife's 
tits if you'll agree to tell the Gazette you've been assaulted in your own 
house by the Cuban refugees hired to perform menial," and here he snickered 
at the word, " ... tasks in your home. Do we have a deal, Mrs. Nelson?" 

Cora's dainty hand flew to her forehead. Hadn't she subconsciiously known it 
would come to this? She gasped audibly, frightened she might be sick. Hadn't 
she known too, that Mayor Dillon had paid the refugees to storm into her 
house and defile her? 

"You...." she spat through curled lips. "You're the one who hired the 
refugees to rape me. Isn't it bad enough that you beat your wife ... why do 
you have to ruin me, too? I've never hurt you!" 

That old American zenophobia again ... Because she was Cuban born, she was 
being used as a social tool to hammer down the Cuban refugees, to drill them 
out of the country ... and because of her, one innocent Cora Nelson. "Nooo 
... I won't." Her voice shrilled to a whine and her apple cheeks faded to 
dead gray. 

He winked one piggish eye at her. "Sure you will, Cora ... sure you 
will...." he mocked with confidence. The Mayor shadowed that corner of the 
living room as he leaned forward, blocking out sunlight, and grinned. "You 
will because I'll go to the Gazette if you don't. Every General and officer 
on the army base will be chuckling about Leo's wife ... the cock suckin' 
Colonel's wife who spends her afternoons perverting the Mayor's wife, that's 
why. Have you any idea how powerful I am in this town, Cora?" He counted off 
his supporters on thick fingers. "I've got the print wrapped around my 
little finger, the welfare department thinks like me, the police department 
... even the god damned church! The military in this country runs on pride, 
my dear ... small town politics runs on fear You have nothing on your 
side...." 

Salty tears dribbled down Cora's flushed cheeks, and when she pulled the 
pathetically trembling fist from her quivering lips, she heard him say 
mellifluously in a voice not unlike his wife's cajoling one. 

"We may be able to work something out," he added, leaning back in the chair. 
"If you were to perform certain services for me, I would be willing to drop 
the charge of lesbianism and we could go with a straight rape charge against 
these fuckin' Commies." 

If ever Cora wanted to die, it was then. Torn between damning the refugees 
whom Leo had struggled to help, or breaking her husband's career? Life or 
death for someone, no matter how you cut it. Yet to whom did she owe her 
allegiance? Obviously to Leo ... the sound of his name brought fresh tears. 
Hopefully, with help from the military, Leo could gloss over the rape 
charge, chalking it up to typical small town anti-Cuban sentiment and not 
infringe upon the Cubans fight for freedom. Yes ... she must 'work something 
out,' as the Mayor put it. 

"Work what out?" she sniffed. 

A crooked grin creased the Mayor's face. "Joyce and I don't make love much 
anymore ... I guess she likes women now and Cubans," he added in a knife 
blade voice. 

"A-all right, Earl ... let's have the sentence. What do you want?" her voice 
was barely a whisper. 

"First of all, I want you to shut up. I can't stomach crying women." 

A deep sigh pulled from Cora's chest as desperately she tried to pull 
herself together. She had acted like a slut with the refugee's, so why not 
do so for a real purpose-like saving her husband's career? Hadn't enough 
people suffered because of her Cuban heritage? Maybe that reasoning gave her 
the sudden burst of strength as, brightening, she realized she still had her 
pride. He'd offered her the ultimatum ... not vice versa. If he demanded 
sexuality to free her and every other unfortunate soul soiled by her birth, 
then so be it. That didn't mean she had to revel in it. 

"Okay, Earl ... where do we start?" she asked with a nervous titter that 
sounded more hysterical than amused. 

"Strip...." he grunted. 

Mayor Dillon mentally slapped himself on the back. Damned good idea, making 
up that bit about the Gazette. Little bitch fell for it hook, line and 
sinker ... which in his mind proved that every Cuban was stupid. 

Trembling and chewing her bottom lip until she tasted blood, the remorseful 
Colonel's wife stripped out of her T-shirt and cotton denim skirt, standing 
before his piggish eyes now in the skimpiest of silk bikini panties which 
she'd worn for Leo's faltering virility, and a pink silken brassiere to 
match. The lace trim swept over the smooth line of her hips, grazing, 
shimmering black pussy curls, to be repeated at her bosom, hiding only the 
puffiness of her beige nipples from the Mayor's hungry-eyed gaze. 

A gasp of admiration whistled from Earl's heaving lungs. Cora felt a chill 
as he laved over her young eurves, embarrassed by his blatant sexuality as 
quickly, she hurled herself down onto the sofa and crossed her arms modestly 
over her breasts to hide from his odios stare. 

"Don't be modest," he grunted in a bored voice. "Spread your legs ... I've 
got meetings to go to, budgets to plan ... I don't have patience with 
uptight cunts!" His voice grew in velocity and swallowing her pride, Cora 
uncurled her arms from her bosom and let her legs fall apart. 

"Cunt ... I wanna see cunt...." 

Sniffling, she spread her legs further apart and when she could see by his 
expression that the coral slit behind the snug band of her panties was open 
to him, she leaned back into the cushions, clenched shut her eyes and tried 
to block out the image of his lust twisted face. 

"I can't see your cunt ... take off your panties ... like you did Joyce's!" 

That stung. Fearing he'd keep his word and ruin forever the honorable 
Colonel Leo Nelson, Cora compliantly peeled off her panties, rolling them 
over the warm swell of her hips. Biting her lower lip, she kicked the dainty 
garment to the floor and reached behind her back and stripped off her 
brassiere without being told. 

Now, shivering in nudity, she awaited his next command. 

It came soon enough. Opening her eyes, Cora saw him gesticulating with his 
finger, his face purpling with lust. "One foot over the back of the sofa and 
the other on the floor ... you hear me?" 

Numbly, knowing he could see right up the hole of her pussy, she splayed her 
legs and found herself leaning back into the corner of the couch, her thighs 
spread so far apart it hurt the well exercised muscles. Shuddering in 
revulsion and hating him for holding her captive in her own house, she saw a 
drop of spittle foam at the corner of the Mayor's thick lips as he stared 
hungrily at her naked pussy. That he was fully dressed gilded her 
humiliation. 

His next command came in a thick voice. "Now play with yourself ... 
masturbate for me, Cora!" 

Cora's chocolate eyes flew open in disgust. "No! Nooo! You're demented!" she 
bridled. 

His doleful gaze felt like a snake slithering up her spine and she nodded 
relentingly to indicate she understood fully the rider in their verbal 
contract. Her sex or Leo's career? One had already been soiled. 

Goosebumping, Cora lifted her trembling hands to the mounds of her golden 
breasts, pulling and tweaking at her nipples, the way she had Joyce's 
Dillon's the day before. She heartlessly toyed with them, as if they were 
marbles, inanimate objects. Little pinpricks of sensation ricocheted through 
her tender flesh, still sensitive from yesterday's ravages. 

"Okay," she heard him sigh. "Now finger your cunt. 

Play with your clit and lick your fingers." Cora's eyes quickly lifted from 
her tormentor's massiveness as embarrassed, she watched his hand dip to the 
crotch of his suit pants to press with the heel of his hand the rising tree 
trunk. 

If he thinks I can make myself cum in front of him ... he'scrazy ... 
alonemaybe ... but never in front of Mayor Dillon! she averred. 

To prove that supposition, her fingertips dropped down to flutter like birds 
over the black curls of her pubis, hoping to God Lawrence's Mayor was one of 
those perverts who liked to watch women masturbate ... the kind of men who 
frequented peep shows and paid one dollar to see a naked woman he couldn't 
touch. Dramatically she ran the tips of her fingers over the smooth, 
sensitive outer lips of her cuntal opening, feeling a stiffening bolt of 
electricity as the petals opened and moistened for entry. 

Her eyes fluttered shut and struggling to concentrate on the purpose of this 
demented mission, she dutifully stroked her forefinger over the tiny rosebud 
of her clitoris, softly at first. Rigidly, fighting the impulse to shut out 
the Mayor's presence, she toyed superficially with her naked genitals. 

"You're not following directions, bitch!" he growled. "That's not the way 
you played with my wife!" 

I ... I have to do as he says ... or Leo ... Leo! 

Faster now, she thumped at the growing bulb of her clitoris, a delicious 
tingling sensation radiating out around the tiny swollen peak like the beam 
of a searchlight. It felt good, damningly good ... Mayor Dillon or no Mayor 
Dillon. Maybe if she made herself cum that would satisfy him ... maybe. 
Anything was worth a try. She fingered herself more vigorously, her fingers 
working furiously while her body goosebumped and quivered in masturbatory 
bliss! 

A groan tore from her mouth as she plunged a finger into her hot waiting 
hole. Squirming it inside herself, she pulled it free only to ram it back in 
again. Her head flew back to rest on the cushion and her lips parted in a 
low moan of ecstasy. 

"Take your finger out of your cunt, Cora, and lick it! Taste yourself ... 
like you wanted to taste my wife!" 

She obeyed, pulling her finger sticky with cuntal juices from the slurping 
hole of her cunt and tentatively lifted it to her lips. Slowly the tip of 
her pink tongue swept over the sticky digit, licking her own juices, 
piquant, womanly juices. A moan bubbled from her lips and across the room, 
above her own whimpering sighs, she heard Mayor Dillon pant with unpent 
lust. 

Quickly the finger jabbed back into that warm hole and she felt the juices 
dripping like rainwater from its mucousy, warm walls. The juices dribbled 
down her hand as that finger ground erotically into the marble of her 
clitoris, while three more digits sawed in and out of her pussy. In circles, 
in ever widening circles, she moved those fingers ... widening the hole and 
stretching. 

But three fingers weren't enough. Not after Carlos' invasion of her seeping 
hole! Desperately, she shoved in a fourth. Yes ... that was better ... not 
enough, but better. She felt it build and stoke in the pit of her belly, and 
knew it wouldn't take much to cum ... then the odious Mayor Dillon would 
leave her in peace. 

With undisguised delight, Lawrence's ignoble Mayor watched the drama unfold. 
The bulge in his pants hardened and his flabby belly heaved. His naked eyes 
wouldn't budge from the Cuban wife's hand furiously trying to make herself 
cum. He wondered if she masturbated often ... she seemed to have the routine 
down pretty damned well! 

"That's it, baby ... screw yourself, make yourself cum ... pretend that's 
Cuban cock fuckin' you ... yeah, dirty Commie Cuban cock!" he hissed. 

Cora threw back her head and whimpered out frustration from not cumming. She 
could have scaled the walls with her fingernails from the jet fueled energy 
raging in her veins. Her four long, slender fingers dipped wetly in and out 
of the swollen flanges of her cunt, the glistening black curls framing her 
seeping pussy dotted with white pearls of female love juices. Perspiration 
sheened her forehead, her cheeks, her breasts, just like the salty drops 
beading her trembling buttocks. A growl of frustration tore from her bosom, 
changing to the high whine of ecstasy as she rocked on the sofa finger 
fucking herself. 

Cora chewed on her lip, struggling to break out of the gut-tearing plateau 
of lust. God, what was wrong? Why couldn't she cum ... it had always been so 
easy in the past ... now to save her soul and Leo's career, she couldn't 
cum! 

Frustrated, she gave up, her sticky fingers squelching nakedly from her 
womb. Slowly, her eyes lifted to his bugged orbs. 

T ... I can't cum ... not in front of you ... I just can't...." 

"That's too bad, Cora...." he breathed. "That's too damned bad!" 

 CHAPTER NINE 

Cora blinked pathetically up at her tormentor and swallowed hard. She stared 
down at her sticky fingers and then up into his jowled face. He grinned 
lopsidedly and without unfastening his eyes from her naked lusciousness, he 
rose to unfasten his pants. 

A moment later, the Mayor of Lawrence stood completely naked, his pulsing, 
heavy cock standing out like a tree branch from his paunch with his weighty 
balls swaying between his thick thighs as he stroked the thick foreskin back 
and forth over the mushroomed head. 

His bulk closed in on her where she sat, a trembling, cringing creature 
sinking into the sofa cushions. A pathetic mewl broke from her lungs and 
snakes seemed to crawl up her spine when Earl reached down with one meaty 
hand and ran his hot palm over the mounds of her breasts and down further 
over the satiny skin over her belly to the soft, fleshy folds of her cunt 
below. 

Cora sucked in her breath as his touch sent unwanted ripples of 
fear-awakened titillation over her shuddering body until her nerve ends felt 
scorched and frizzled. A rash of goosebumps beaded over the golden satin of 
her skin. Dear Lord, what had happened to her within the past few days that 
her body would so readily betray her spirit? 

"The Colonel's wife is getting horny, huh?" guffawed the Mayor, reaching 
down to tweak painfully at her right nipple, grinning as the puffiness 
tightened into a rosebud of sensitivity. 

"Never ... not with you ... you PIG!" she spat. 

"Save that word for your Cuban boys, Cora!" he bellowed back in a gust of 
foul wind that fairly pinned her to the sofa. 

Cora blinked up at him, wondering if he'd beat her as he did his wife, 
Joyce. "Do whatever you must, and then get out of my house!" sobbed Cora, 
weary of the torment, the endless torment that clouded her life since the 
first Cuban refugee stepped foot in Lawrence, Kansas. 

"I'll do with you what I please ... when I please. I'm the Mayor of this 
hick town, and don't you forget it!" he rasped, enjoying his hold on this 
gorgeous slut. 

His greedy eyes were feasting on her cringing nakedness, and the Mayor 
lowered his bulk onto the sofa, then crouched on all squatting fours. The 
breath hissed from his lungs; the position was not easy for a man of his 
size. The frail body beneath him shivered as he rested his palms hard on the 
insides of her thighs. His mouth watered as his eyes fatened onto the 
hair-framed slit of her open cunt, dripping with juices a few inches from 
his quivering lips. A string of saliva drooled down his chin to dribble 
obscenely onto the lubricating juices oozing from the narrow hole at the 
bottom of her smooth tawny belly. 

With a horrified gasp, Cora gazed down at the man shamelessly crouched 
between her parted thighs. She could feel his hot, sweating palms pressed 
against the soft flesh of her inner thighs and then she felt it. 

"EEEIIII ... aggghhh...." she groaned piteously, her body spasming 
convulsively as his hot lips clamped down over the pulsating flanges of her 
vagina. His lips sucked, drawing the warm, soft, fleshy folds deep into the 
warmth of his mouth, while his tongue began a maddening licking against the 
bulb of her excited clitoris. She wriggled her buttocks into the sofa, 
struggling to escape the damningly wonderful sensation, but instead her body 
drew trump and she wriggled against him. His tongue tip worked its way up 
and down the wet, narrow slit. Her hips ground wildly into the cushions, 
soft mewling animal sounds of pleasure bubbling from her clenched teeth. 

Abruptly, he stopped. Cora's eyes blinked open in silent disappointment. 

"Like that, huh?" he grunted, grinning salaciously up into her puzzled face, 
glistening with her cuntal juices. 

Cora refused to answer. She turned her head aside, her body sizzling with 
the need for release ... but not with the odious Mayor of Lawrence! NEVER! 

"Okay, you don't wanna talk to Earl ... if that's the way you want it!" He 
grabbed her harshly by the arm. "Turn over ... Earl's got a treat for ya!" 

What choice had she but to obey? His bruising fingers were torturing her 
arm, cutting off the blood supply. She twisted around on the sofa, changing 
positions until she was kneeling with her body resting on the back cushions. 
She felt him rise from the sofa and stand up behind her, his beefy hands 
suddenly resting on the smooth half moons of her buttocks. She shivered at 
the feel of him kissing the cheeks of her tanned ass, biting into them with 
sharp little werewolf nips. 

She stiffened. He'd pried open her buttocks, drawing the cheeks wide apart, 
then licked the crevice between with long, slurping strokes. He pulled and 
stretched at her asshole and she could feel the strain on the tight, 
resisting, rubbery ring of her rectum. Never ... even at the hands of the 
raping Cuban refugees had she felt so obscenely naked and vulnerable! The 
panting Mayor leaned over her buttocks and slobberingly kissed and lapped at 
the tiny, brown puckered hole as if it were another cunt. Cora's tiny palms 
were filled with wads of sofa upholstery as her polished fingertips clawed 
bird-like and she clenched her teeth against the traitorous sensations 
rippling over her satiny flesh. 

She shuddered when she felt the tip of his finger at the hole of her most 
private anatomy and she jerked automatically away from the strange 
sensation. 

"Open your ass!" he bellowed, jabbing at the tightly clenching hole. 

Open my ass...? What's he talking about? 

Whop! One beefy palm slapped across her buttocks, jarring her senses. 

"I said relax ... and open your ass!" 

A long sigh of submission tore from Cora's lungs as she gasped, then relaxed 
and let the odious creature behind her maliciously, painfully taunt her 
naked flesh. For a moment longer he probed at the outer edges of the small 
elastic hole, then shoved forward, sadistically sinking his finger up to the 
first knuckle in her buttery depths. 

Cora stiffened and relaxed. To her shock the pain subsided when she took a 
deep breath and released it slowly. Earl dug into the tight hole, squirming 
his thick finger slowly into the velvety depths of her rectum. 

She was proud of her brave efforts at tolerating his rape ... until suddenly 
she felt the extra pinching pressure of a second finger ramming unexpectedly 
alongside the first. She struggled to cringe away from him, but he kept on 
her trail, pinning her upper torso to the back of the sofa with the palm of 
his meaty hand. 

"Please ... Earl ... Mayor ... that hurts!" she hissed. "Please stop!" Tears 
of real pain and mortification streamed down her satin cheeks as she 
realized he was hellbent on sodomizing her! Never could she live through the 
humiliation ... and be a good, loving wife to Leo. 

In cruel mockery to her sobbing despair, his fingers began to work together 
inside the clinging hole of her rectum, grinding down into the contracted 
anal tissue, stretching it mercilessly as he twisted and turned his fingers 
in that tiny hole, preparing it for the massive invasion of his burgeoning 
cock. She tried valiantly to jerk her buttocks free, but her quivers only 
incited him to probe deeper and more painfully into her depths. 

"I ain' fucked a bitch in the ass since my wedding night," he snickered. 
"You got a nice ass, Cora ... nice and clean." 

As suddenly as he'd shoved his fingers into her, he pulled them out. 
Reluctantly they popped out, the rubbery skin of her anus clinging to them 
and making embarrassing hissing sounds that stung the captive's ears. 
Climbing onto the couch behind her, he forced her slender legs wide with his 
hairy knees, then moistened the tiny hole with a drop of warm saliva, 
preparing for the battering assault. Held wide and helpless, completely at 
the Mayor's maniacal mercy, she bit down on her lower lip, preparing for the 
first cruel lunge. 

His hands grasped her hips, his fingers dug into the flesh, holding them 
firmly in the air as she felt the excitedly pulsating head of his cock 
resting within her split crevice. The shock at that initial contact made her 
gasp. It was like forcing an elephant through a doorway. Lord, it would rip 
her apart back there! Squirming desperately, she tried to pull away from his 
clutch, but he held her tight and began to prod at the tight, hairless 
opening of her anus. 

His heavy, strong hands coursed down over her satiny buttocks, his thumbs 
pressing on either side of the tiny hole, stretching it wide. "Shit, I bet 
ol' Leo's never fucked you there, has he?" chuckled the Mayor of Lawrence 
lwedly. 

"Nooo! Pleeezzz!" she shrieked, her head flying up Cobra-like from the sofa. 
She felt the tight ring give way before the pressure, the tip popping into 
her with a slight jerk. 

The pain was excruciating. She felt dizzy and, for a second, Cora saw stars 
as she twisted, screamed, struggling to get away from him. But her buttocks 
were moving wildly and her thrashing about only helped him to fuck his fat 
penis even deeper into her helpless rectum. 

"Please ... it hurts, Earl ... I mean it! It's too small ... you're too 
big!" she cried, her eyes wide open in real agony now. 

He ignored her, forcing inch after scorching inch up into her anus as he 
hugged her hips tightly in his barbarous attack and growled, "Push back, you 
bitch! Open up that ass or I'll use a crowbar on it!" 

Fearing he was just crazy enough to do that, she forced herself to move back 
against him, feeling his hirsute thighs rub against her own buttocks. She 
gasped in burning pain as his prick slid smoothly into into her rectum, not 
stopping its boring entry until she felt her buttocks flatten to her hip 
bones and his wiry pubic hair grind hard against her ass. Nothing ... no 
deep breathing, no pain killer, nothing could make her forget the 
pulsatingly stiff cock boring deep into her most private parts! 

The Mayor chuckled lewdly and throbbed his long, hard penis deep into the 
hole of her rectum. "Feel good, Cora? Feel as good as those Commie refugee 
cocks?" 

Cora cringed as his snickers brought hot blasts of air to bathe her 
shell-like ear. She groaned as he began to saw rhythmically, mercilessly 
into the soft depths of her ravaged anus. Never had she felt so debased ... 
not even when the refugee had beaten her and later made love to her. No, not 
even then.... 

Earl Dillon licked his beefy lips, watching the tiny ridges of her pink, 
clasping flesh pull out with the base of his stalky cock every time it 
withdrew for another vicious, teeth chattering lunge back inside her buttery 
depths. This was it, this was his revenge for seducing his wife! Yeah, sweet 
revenge! 

A few teeth rattling moments later, Cora felt his arms reaching down under 
her heaving belly and his fingers stroked her clitoris, fondling the knobby 
spike of flesh until an electrical tingle began to radiate out around it. To 
her utter amazement, that gentle touch heralded a change in her rectum. The 
pain had dulled to a throbbing pressure and, instinctively, she knew that if 
she reared back to meet those thrusts, it would feel even less painful. 
Anything to lighten the agony of the boring, gouging pain in her backside! 
She shoved back, grunting, meeting each one of his thrusts with one of her 
own. 

The Mayor groaned and slapped Cora on the ass. "Move them buttocks, baby, 
yeah, that's the way to go!" And rotate she did, her nether ring clenching 
tightly around his cock. 

Sweat rivered Earl's face as he stared in sadistic delight as his balls 
smacked lewdly against her tight cunt each time he sunk his prick to the 
hilt in her wide-split crevice. He had stopped fondling her clitoris and 
still she bucked. She was ready for it now ... the hot bitch would love 
it-hell, she wasn't complaining now, he realized as his eyes feasted on the 
wiggling buttocks and blue black pony tail swaying like a horse's mane from 
side to side as she worked frantically toward her orgasm. 

"Ahhh! Gooodddd!" moaned the Colonel's captive wife as behind, he pressed 
forward as far as he could, pulling the soft cheeks of her ass wide apart to 
let his cock sink deeper. Pie just held it there, taunting her. She rotated 
her buttocks around the giant blood-filled head deep in her asshole. 

With unending thrusts, he battered into her quivering ass. His balls 
throbbed almost painfully and his prick fely as though it were plugged into 
an electrical socket! Cora was moaning dementedly, her face flushed, eyes 
rolling in her head as she struggled toward her orgasm. This was the only 
way to end her torture, she rationalized, grinding her buttocks against the 
Mayor's crotch. I've got to make him cum ...! 

He had her now ... he could do whatever he damned well pleased with this 
creature. Digging his cock into her ass, he left it there, hearing her cry 
and beg while he pushed and probed, moving it inside her in widening 
circles, knowing that unlike his frigid wife, he wouldn't have to stare at 
her face over a coffee cup in the morning. 

"Ohhhhhaaaahhhh...." Despite her firm resolve to keep her pleasure to 
herself, Cora couldn't stop the low groans of pleasure-pain filling her 
backside. In answer, Earl rammed into her with a mighty thrust that seared 
up her roundly stretched anus like a sword of fire. He pulled back, rearing 
up like a stallion ready to mate. He pulled her back over his cock like he 
was pulling on a boot, causing the Colonel's wife to scream in a weirdly 
erotic mixture of pleasure and pain. She whined and wailed as he increased 
his strokes, boring deeper ... deeper.... 

And the boiling sperm began to churn and froth in his balls; his penis 
tingled, too, and he knew he couldn't hold out any longer. 

Cora felt his giant cock grow and bloat until she thought it was going to 
rip her apart. "Oh God, please cum, please cum...!" she wailed in 
masochistic pleasure and fucked back against him until tears stung her eyes. 

He gasped above her, his breath hissing from his lungs. He shoved forward 
with one valiant lunge that almost ripped the walls of her quivering belly 
and shot hot gushes of thick, white cream deep into the cringing depths of 
her rectum. It surged through her, warming her belly. Earl hissed through 
clenched teeth, bald head thrown back, and that did it for Cora! 

Cora screeched a banshee wail as a great rush of something fantastic rippled 
through her. Her body convulsed and shuddered as she tumbled over the peak 
of lust. Gasping, his deflated and limp shaft withdrew from the sucking 
depths of her bowels. A wet, sucking noise sluiced the air as it slipped out 
from between the full white moons of her buttocks. A sudden rush of cool air 
in the wetness of her behind reminded her that she was still kneeling, 
buttocks waving vulnerably in the air. 

She collapsed, a goosebumped mass of quivering flesh, panting into the 
sofa's cushion. One chocolate eye peeked open to see Mayor Dillon plunk in 
the leather chair; he was dabbing at creamy threads of sperm with his 
initialed linen handkerchief. The ugliness of it, the debasement, stung her 
cheeks. 

Horrified at her nakedness, she snatched up her T-shirt and skirt and 
without modesty of brassiere or panties, she pulled her clothes over her 
messed up pony tail. 

"You got what you came for, now get out! You can tell the Gazette I was 
raped, but the charge won't stick!" Beneath her clothing, her lithe body 
shuddered with revulsion and fear of what would happen if the charge stuck. 
One ugly mess ... Cora bit her lip. 

The Mayor of Lawrence chuckled amusedly. "You and your Commie hubbie better 
learn who runs this town," he hissed, pulling on his yard-wide boxer shorts. 
"As for you, I'd start packing ... this town doesn't want stinkin' Cubans 
messing up the streets!" 

The limpid brown eyes blazed with fiery hatred and rage. Her normally 
succulent lips drew into a tight line. "You won't last long in this town, 
Earl Dillon ... not after my husband hears about this!" 

"Let him try to prove the charge ... just let him...." 

 CHAPTER TEN 

Love, like everything else, has its boundaries, cogitated Cora 
philosophically, styding Leo's stern expression. She lifted her aching 
buttocks, throbbing still from Mayor Dillon's 'bargaining' penis, and 
flicked off the television set. 

"Leo...?" she stammered in a tremulous voice. "I've got to talk to you." 

The blue eyes that had been watching CBS Evening News lifted from the 
blackened screen to his wife's tear-glistening eyes. A mixture of hurt and 
fear met his questioning gaze. 

Before beginning a well-memorized monologue, she studied with a cautious eye 
the little worry lines making crowsfeet under his wide-set Nordic eyes. His 
ruddy cheeks wore the pallor of worry and lack of sleep. 

"Honey...." she began settling herself into the cor her of the sofa where 
hours before she'd lain victim to Mayor Dillon's raping attack. "I ... I 
wish I didn't have to tell you all this ... but it's been so God awful these 
past few days ... I ... I...." She wrung her hands, shaking her head until 
the shimmering topknot swung about her shoulders in a dance of misery. She 
held her breath, trying to still the tears running in humiliating streams 
down her flushed cheeks. The closer to the battle line, the more lucid the 
mind, oftimes. 

Tat was Cora's response as she broke herself out of the cage of guilt and 
shame and confronted her husband; red polished fingertips swept dry the 
signs of her misery. 

"I know what you're going to say, Cora." He, too, sucked in a deep breath. 
"If it's about Mayor Dillon paying off the Cuban refugees to...." and here 
he balked." ... to harrass you, I know about it ... and I'm very sorry I 
caused it to happen." 

That little wedge of solace failed to calm the nerve wracked wife and with 
something akin to rage, she blinked incredulously at him and shrilled her 
wifely revenge. "You knew, and yet you did nothing to stop it? For God 
sakes, Leo, you're my husband! You've got a whole military base at your 
disposal, and yet you let them-" 

Leo's eyes descended to his lap and he shook his head. "Honey, I didn't find 
out about it until today," he answered glumly. "It's not the only charge 
that will impeach Mayor Dillon, the stupid fool," he spat through pearly 
clenched teeth. "Besides hiring refugees to harrass you, he's carrying the 
sin of having involved himself in a welfare scandal. There's not more than 
two hundred dollars left in the city's welfare fund, thanks to his pinching 
fingers...." 

"He did what? But ... but how? That one man could single-handedly hire three 
hapless, hungry refugees to rape and beat her-not to mention his ugly 
afternoon mission was unforgiveable, but to deprive people of their federal 
rights-" Cora's tiny hand flew to her mouth. "But what's going to happen to 
those hungry refugees? Somebody's got to feed them ...!" 

Leo rubbed his aching forehead with massaging fingers. He turned his face 
away from his wife's probing gaze. "I don't know ... the federal government 
will have to intervene...." 

"And the boys ... how did you ...?" She couldn't finish that damning 
statement. 

The Colonel dipped into his uniform kakhis and hauled out a gold chain with 
a glimmering St. Christopher's medal weighting it. "I found this out in the 
front yard when I was clipping the crab grass last night. It didn't mean 
anything at the time, but today at the base one of the young guys-Carlos was 
his name-was making inquiries about a gold chain he'd lost. He was pretty 
literate with his description and I don't know too many people who wear 
stuff like this." Leo's mouth curled up in an attempt at a smile. "I'd heard 
rumors ... young, virile (the word stuck in his throat) boys have a hard 
time keeping their secrets to themselves ... especially when it involves a 
beautiful woman...." 

"But ... how do you ... do you still want me?" she stammered, wincing 
inwardly at the damnation she felt deserving of. 

"How could I blame you ... Christ," and here he shot up from his chair and 
raked strong fingers through his blonde waves. " ... I can't even get it 
up!" 

That admission turned the tables of sympathy. A calmer Cora sat biting her 
lip, her face a smooth mask of acceptance as she waited for the punishment. 
The knot in her stomach tightened as she winced at his every word. 

Leo began a tight pace about the living room. "I can't blame you, Cora, if 
you had to cooperate to save your life ... maybe you enjoyed it, I don't 
know." Abruptly he pounded a balled up fist into an open palm. "I can't 
detest you for making love to somebody else when I can't be a husband to 
you. ... rape or whatever it was." 

Indeed, the image of his golden skinned wife laying quivering on his bed 
while a virile bodied Cuban not even old enough to drive a car, drove into 
his wife's needful vagina, wouldn't budge from his mind's eye. Could Cora, 
his loving, romantic wife, find pleasure in another man's cock ... boring 
into her crying belly, the belly he couldn't fill with more than a couple of 
pathetic fingers? "Of course" came the answer loud and clear. The strong 
bodied Colonel snickered at his self defeat. 

"I'm sorry you had to be made a tool for this whole damned Cuban issue," he 
apologized, changing the subject to something less subjective. "If I hadn't 
brought you to this base, none of this would have happened, but I thought I 
could help, I really did ... and then that damned Earl had to foul things up 
for everybody." 

"Worst of all himself and Joyce. He beats her, you know," put in Cora in a 
small voice. 

"Yeah, that's what I've heard. The beast." 

To confess to Mayor Dillon's assault would have sent the shivering Colonel 
over the brink of despair and, sensing this, Cora melliflously whispered up 
into his pale face: "Let's forget about the ugliness and concentrate on the 
goodness-between us." A salacious glint sprinkled her eyes and a seductive 
tongue tip jabbed out to wet her lips suggestively. She winked and cocked 
her head in the direction of the bedoom. 

With the willingness of a dutiful wife, she undressed him, peeling off his 
shirt, his pants and tight fitting red jockey shorts. Now they lay on the 
bed, studying each other like newfound lovers, groping, caressing. Even 
after the last days' horrors, the Colonel's wife blushed a ruddy pink as she 
felt his eyes taking in the lush curves of her body ... with an intent stare 
damning reminiscent of Carlos. 

He ran a fingertip over the rosebudded nipple a tongue's reach away. "I 
can't blame those refugees, you know that?" 

Cora shivered, her eyes losing their glow. "What will happen to them, and 
your career, Leo ... I'm so worried about the gossip." 

He snickered with confidence. "The federal government is capable of covering 
anything. As for the boys' bragging, it's just that-boy talk. In fact," and 
here he drew a deep breath, "if it hadn't been for the inspection tour Fa 
made of the latrines today where I heard them talking, I wouldn't have known 
about it. Eavesdropping, your husband eavesdropped on your privacy ... think 
you can tolerate that?" 

"Then there's no scandal ... the Gazette won't report it?" 

"If they do, I'll plant a bomb in their office" he assured, kissing her, 
silencing her fears. 

"I love you, Colonel Nelson," she murmured as slowly, she trailed her red 
lacquered fingertips over his ruddy chest and down over his tight stomach 
until her fingers played in the wiry patch of his pubic hair. Pooching out 
her succulent lips and watching his glassy eyed expression, she caressed 
softly the blood filled maleness that poled out from his stomach. Slowly, 
she bent her head to plant soft kisses on the purple, mushroomed head of his 
delightfully lusty cock and twirled her tongue over the mushroomed tip. A 
moan of appreciation gurgled in his throat. At last she'd opened the 
Pandora's box of his sensuality! If that's what the Colonel wanted, then 
that's what the Colonel shall have! She stretched her lips over it, sucking 
it into the warmth of her buttery mouth. 

Slowly, tantalizingly, her tight lips moved down the shaft, her pink tongue 
working as she lowered her head onto it, tasting the pungent tang of her 
husband's semen seeping from the tip. 

"Ohhh Gawd, Cora, that's fantastic!" moaned the Colonel as the warm pressure 
of her lips and the skillfully licking tongue made him thrust his pelvis 
upward in a fucking motion, forcing all of it, down to its hairy base, into 
the sweetness of her mouth. 

Cora's heart lept with joy from her husband's appreciative words and, 
holding his cock in one tiny fist, she eased down on his loins, drawing it 
steadily up and down through her open lips, twisting her tongue at the peak 
of each loving stroke. 

As he raised his head to watch, the lust provoking sight of her flushed 
cheeks and the shimmer of blue black hair falling over shoulder ... the 
hollowing of her cheeks, drove him to a frenzy. She gasped and sucked harder 
as he began a rhythmic pounding into her mouth, crashing the huge muscled 
penis against the tender tissues of her throat. Her naked breasts quivered 
and billowed beneath as he slammed his groin into her lovely face, fucking 
her mouth with lustful fury. 

Abruptly, the flexing ceased. "Do you like it when I get rough with you?" he 
hissed. "Is that what you like, Cora?" 

To deny it would have been a lie. Cora nodded her head and grinned 
submissively as he ordered her onto her back. At last the Colonel was acting 
like a man! 

Cora was ready for a man! Before he changed his mind, she flipped over onto 
her back, drew her legs up, her feet flat on the bed and dimpled knees 
pressed together. Then, with tantalizing slowness, she let her knees fall 
limply apart, showing off all of her pink lipped pussy. "Do it, Leo ... fuck 
me...." 

"Jesus, you don't know how long I've wanted to do this!" he breathed, gazing 
down at the firm, golden body spread in a sensual feast just for him. "This 
is one hard-on that's gonna satisfy you ... I promise you that!" 

They squirmed nakedly together for a magical moment, and then he crawled 
between her legs which she curled around his strong, slender hips as he 
groped down and pressed the bluntness of his cock between the swollen pink 
lips of her moist and begging cunt. With a deep grunt, he drove forward, 
making Gora groan in happy surrender and, tightening her arms around his 
neck, she pressed her open, wet lips against his, and with a deep moan, 
sucked his tongue deep into her mouth as she felt his huge driving cock bore 
into her belly. 

"Ohhh ... Leooo!" she cooed, as she felt his bloated sacs of heavy cum smack 
against her satiny ass cheeks. She stretched her arms down until her hands 
clamped around his buttocks to cradle his balls, tickling them gently with 
her fingertips. 

Leo levered up, bracing his weight on his elbows and stared hungrily down 
into the lovely face. He had begun to feel a tingle of resentment and 
green-eyed jealousy thinking of the Cuban refugees who'd satisfied her as he 
couldn't for too damned long. But the baby-sweet, childish face smiling up 
at him dissolved those unpleasantries. 

Cora felt him withdraw his pulsing cock slowly, only far enough to make it 
rub maddeningly along the fiery walls of her pussy. With every ounce of 
strength, he fucked back into her. He started stroking in and out of her 
satin soft ass that pumped in matching tempo to his motions, her pelvis 
rotating as if on ball bearings, taking all of his sex-maddened hardness. 

How glorious to be made love to by someone you love, she thought fleetingly, 
shedding fears of whips and humiliation. Never had she felt so free, so 
totally female. This was how it should be and always would be, she promised 
herself. Only the feeling mattered. 

The colonel worked up a sweat as he drubbed into his wife's sucking pussy, 
slamming his prick deeper into her cunt until her cervix felt as if it were 
retreating for the selfish reason of getting more of him. She met him in 
mid-stroke each time. Her cuntal lips caressed as it sunk it, sucking and 
massaging him as it stroked outward. Below, Cora tossed her blue black hair 
in ecstasy, spreading her thighs wider to let her married cunt flower open 
and let the full nine inches of his pulsating masculinity sink into her 
belly. 

Cora's body began rocking from right to left, adding variation to the up and 
down movements of her rotating hips. The sensation was fantastic, 
heightening pleasure. The breath whistled and rasped from her overworked 
lungs, and perspiration sheened her nudity as her pretty face scrunched up 
in lustful joy. 

"I'm ... oh, Cora ... I'm ... cumming!" yelped Leo as she felt him pump 
madly into her seething pussy furiously. 

In mindless ecstasy he babbled and she gurgled in joy, raising her tousled 
head to bathe his neck, his ears, his eyes in wet kisses, while gasping out 
jumbled words as she felt the boiling sperm pumping into her vagina. She 
worked every cuntal muscle she'd exercised in the past two days to milk him 
dry. 

"Leo!" blurted her sultry voice. "Fill meee ...!" she whispered as the pace 
of his fucking increased and he writhed over her heaving body, the wetness 
of their juices making lewd slurping sounds as he thrust into her belly. 

"Oh ... agghhh...." Leo watched his wife's lips move and twitch. Suddenly, 
she arched her back and gripping his buttocks, began to grind upward like a 
madwoman. He glanced down at her giggling breasts as they quivered and 
heaved, moving like hinges of a well oiled gate. He gritted his teeth and 
ground harder and deeper into her throbbing hole, watching as her beautiful 
features twisted with passion as her orgasm began to peak wildly. 

"Aagggghhh ... eeeiiii!" she shrilled as the very core of her being flowered 
with love. Her legs quivered on either side of his strong shoulders. The 
bliss was unbearable, electrical! Her body twisted and thrashed beneath him, 
convulsing crazily as her cunt squirted its warm white lava down the sides 
of his burgeoning cock. 

It seemed as if they'd been cumming for hours! Slowly, his penis deflated 
inside her, twitching as if regretful of leaving the warmth of her body ... 
finally it lay still, sticky against her thigh. 

With tender love, she gazed up into his eyes, her own moist and filled with 
tears of relief, joy and a thousand other positive emotions roiling inside 
her body and mind. She felt the warm sperm seeping from her womb to trickle 
down her buttocks. 

"Was that good for you?" he breathed, panting, his cheeks ruddy. 

"The best I've ever had...." 

"The Colonel's prick isn't dead after all," quipped Leo, rolling over onto 
his side and kissing her on her apple cheeks, moist and hot from the 
exertion of sweet orgasm. 

"I'm happy to be your wife, Colonel ... even if you weren't here when I 
needed you most," she mewled, emitting a deep sigh and snuggling her cheek 
in the warmth of her husband's pulsing neck. Her red fingertips toyed with 
the curls on his chest, kinking with sweat. One traced the goosebumped flesh 
about his nipple. 

She turned a serious face to him. "What's going to become of Mayor Dillon? 
You mentioned a welfare scandal...." 

Leo emitted a disillusioned sigh. "He and a bunch of men from the county 
welfare department stupidly involved themselves in a scam. They put phony 
names into the computer and with accomplicing doctors, submitted phony 
medical claims and then split the money. Same with food stamps and grocerys. 
It's an old scam ... and you can make a mint." 

"Unless you get caught." 

"You're so smart, Cora." 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

Joyce Dillon's bleached blonde hair, showing none of its characteristic 
telltale roots, tossed recklessly as she rolled down the car window and 
rested a tanned arm the color of prairie wheat on the hot sill. Nimbly her 
fingers turned to a top forty rock station and, pumping the accelerator of 
her 1980 Porsche, she headed for the army base refugee camp. 

Today was Wednesday, the day she offered her charitable good cheer to the 
Lawrence, Kansas army base recreational center for adolescent refugees. 
Singlehandedly, she masterminded a campaign to buy for next to nothing a 
couple of pool tables whose tattered green was considered unusable by the 
Johnson Pool Hall in town. After a behind closed doors meeting with the 
local distributor for Coca-Cola, she'd managed to finangle (with typical 
pre-Dillon zeal), seventeen cases of soda to fill the cooler each week ... 
which amounted to approximately three cans of cola per day for each 
adolescent between the ages of three and twenty-one, as she'd calculated it. 

But what was a woman to do? Husband sitting behind bars at a detention 
prison, leaving her with an empty house, unused swimming pool, two cars of 
1980 vintage and a pocketbook full of credit cards, what had a blonde haired 
divorcee to do with free afternoons? No more sitting around watching soap 
operas, guzzling wine, and getting depressed for this lady! 

Like losing fifteen years off my life, she marveled, meshing the gears and 
zipping through the army base security gate with a nod of her blonde head. 
The guard waved her through; the ex-Mayor Dillon's wife had become a notable 
fixture at the refugee camp. Everyone recognized her flashy ovaled 
sunglasses and windblown blonde hair. Even the Gazette, famous for its 
anti-Dillon stance, granted her a favorable full page interview in the 
Sunday edition, heading it: "Joyce Dillon ... the Sister Teresa of the 
Refugee Camp." 

The Federal Sponsorship Program was in full swing, and none hired more boys 
to clean her basement, scoop the leaves from her swimming pool, and scrub 
her floors than Joyce Dillon. 

"What did she get out of it?" the Gazette queried. 

Joyce twirled a blonde wave around a red lacquered fingertip, a crooked grin 
creasing her rouged lips ... her mind reeling back to the afternoon romp in 
Colonel Nelson's bed (poor man!). "Let's just say I've got a lot to make up 
for...." 


THE END
