FUCKED BY AN ANGEL
by YMELAWD
All Rights Reserved by Author
"I really don't need this!", BombCherry thought to herself as she slowed her car to the grassy, gravel embankment of the lonely country road.
The sparkling red and white lights from the domineering squad car reflected from her angled rearview mirror, onto her smooth but furrowed mocha face, and the blinding spotlight made her pulse pound and briefly froze her gaze as the deer she had swerved to avoid had stood frozen in the hypnotic embrace of her speeding headlights.
"Dayumm, dayumm, dayumm", she mentally pounded her mind. "I knew this was not-a-good-idea to do this drive!" But, she had done the drive. She didn't like to drive normally, but on that early spring day when she had mused to her husband that she needed to get inspired to create more stories to "make my family of erotic slaves cum", he had suggested (off-handily), that while he would keep the kids, and buy tickets for 'Disney World' in Orlando, she could drive "cross country to find that inspiration", and he would later leave the kids with his aunt, and meet her at 'the Pyramid' near the Las Vegas airport.
"You're not trying to get rid of me Boo Boo!", she mocked indignation to him.
"No, no Bomb!", he replied in equal amounts of wide-eyed mock terror, and nervous laughter, "It's just that I know everyone needs a change of pace to freshen up the moment of pleasure...I mean..." he trailed off. " I did not say that quite right" he whispered. "Honey you know what I mean!" "Yeah right!", Bomb replied. "Dayumm, just remember, I got me a whole pussy posse out there in Webland, that if I were to snap-my-fingers, (she snapped her right index finger, and thumb, above her head in a waving rhythm), they would be at my fuckin', door step, tongues waggin', to get one lick of this sweet, juicy, pussy!" She laughed. They both laughed. "I don't want to leave you honey, but do you think I would really get inspired, if I did drive awhile?" "Yeah, I do. Treat it like a 'vision-quest', as the Indians do. After all, all us black folks, got a little native in us! It might do ya' good!"
BombCherry wasn't her real name, but it served her personality for the Internet. She had always fancied herself a writer, but to share her best fantasies, (and some real ones), between her husband, (reluctant at first), and an unseen audience of men and women, made her inner pussy lips flutter! To know that what she wrote made a thousand dicks stand at attention and explode in white-fountains of hot cum, and a thousand clitties scream orgasmic 'meows', in reckless abandon, made her feel like 'Perva', the goddess of the eternal fuck itself! It was the feeling she had one time when she had lovingly ' dog-lapped', the smoothe balls and virgin cock of her first boyfriend behind the burgundy curtains of the church pulpit, and as the choir was singing, 'Nearer my God to Thee', he had tentatively, but ooohhh sooo expertly, brought her to a scream as his thick thumbs, and fingers tweaked her taut nipples, and burrowed his moist, hot tongue, like a hairless mole into her salty, velvety canyon! She had reached her first crescendo, just as the singers had reached theirs, and at that first moment it truly seemed as if the Lord in heaven had blessed this 'communion' with celestial, orgasmic hallelujahs in a multitude of song.
In spite of the outward manner of free independence she projected, as a secure woman of the 90's; inspirational & sexually confident to her readers, she still felt a bit nervous hitting the road by herself but, then she was doing a lot of things women didn't normally do. She had made it as far as a lonely road in central Texas. She had made it as far as him.
After what seemed an eternity, (and she was sure he was fiddling with his tickets and bullshit paperwork on purpose), the trooper put on what looked as the traditional' smokey bear', hat, and opened his door. As he got out of the car, the crimson and orange rays of the fading sun on the purple horizon, illuminated him, in a contradictory angelic nimbus.
She couldn't see his eyes behind the dark shades, he wore, but "he'll take those off when it's dark soon enough", she mumbled to herself. She was no shorty, but as he almost swaggered up to her car, and she could focus on him more clearly, he stood maybe a full head over her, and he was...Beautiful! She was taken aback, and her breath caught in her throat because she hadn't expected to see a black policeman in the middle of Texas nowhere, but she felt embarrassed at her prejudice.
Or was he black? It was hard to make out his features in the reflected sunlight. His smooth, chiseled chin was bronze beneath his penetrating, black glasses which never wavered from her, but he could have passed as "some sort of Afro-Eurasian', or 'Afro-Indian', or 'Afro-American Indian'!" she thought. She just didn't know.
He was all brown, and black. His black pants were of the old 'aviator balloon', type like you would see in those old WW1 movies, with a single faded gray stripe (like the stripe in the highway) that ran up the side of each leg, painting themselves around a finely chiseled ass. His chestnut brown jacket, almost like a tunic, had an American flag on the right shoulder, and a decal of Texas bordered with the name, 'Concho Co.', on the left shoulder. A large 5 point star badge was on his left breast, and a small silver name plate on his right spelled 'Rusk'. His hat wasn't a 'Mountie trooper', after all, but a pitch black cowboy Stetson. Despite her initial irritation at being pulled over, she self-consciously found herself adjusting the bodice of her saffron cotton dress.... She hadn't meant to wear that dress. She was going to save it for 'her man', when she arrived to pick him up the following night in Las Vegas, but it had been hot that day, and 'silly girl' she had brought only one pair of faded jeans to wear across that vast expanse. Her sweaty crotch had started to chaff in the tight denim, so she had pulled over earlier to relieve herself. Pee, and "to hell with these cockle burrs", as she put on one of her dresses in a mesquite thicket.
He spoke through fine porcelain teeth, with that trademark measured, Texan cowpoke accent. "G'even ma'am", (he finger tipped his hat as he nodded his head), "you realize that besides racin' like a bat outta' hell, doin' 75; you were swervin' like ya' been startin' too early with ya' nightcaps". "I wasn't goin' that fast", she feigned surprise through slightly pouted blushing-red roughed lips. "That's only maybe 10 miles over what the interstate speed limit back there said. There's no one out here, and I just wanted to make it to the nearest town, before sundown, so I could sleep in a nice, warm, bed!" She tried to affect just a bit of what she thought would be a 'southern belle' drawl, but despite her attempt to keep her composure, couldn't help but buck her eyes, and flash her eyelashes.
"Fraid' your wrong there, ma'am. this here's a state road, and the limits only 55 mph. Those federal roads give ya' 65 nowadays. When ya' got off the interstate, a while back, ya' had ta' tone it down a might, and as far as no one here?" (he pointed and glanced behind), "one of our finest citizens, that little roe buck ya' almost mowed down, back there, might feel a little miffed, at being considered a nobody!"
A small hare watched in mute witness before scampering into the nearby brush.
She studied his face. The stars were coming out of hiding in the increasing darkness, but there was still plenty of daylight to see when he turned his head, what looked like hair of fine textured lamb's wool under his hat but, "was that a hint of a straight-haired pony tail, he wore?" An extension? She knew hair, and she could see that it was all his own. "Afro-Indian, American-Indian, Eurasian?" She couldn't tell. She could smell the faint aroma of spice from him. 'Old Spice'? Sandalwood? "He's a bit too young for that", she thought, "in fact he's younger than me", but that thought quickly vanished when she realized that she was producing her own aroma. The 'special' perfume of her own raw, musk, produced in the depths of her womanhood. She became especially, embarrassingly aware of her thick woman scent, wafting from her pussy, coaxed by hours of a hot Texas sun whose loving, but harsh breath on her lap, had soaked her cottony dress, and teased rivulets of moisture from between her legs, in the dry terrain. She had taken her soaked panties off when she had changed into her dress. They were hanging on a tiny hook above the driver's rear seat. "He either saw them and pretended not to notice as a gentlemen, or saw them and preferred not to notice from disgust", she thought.
Whatever; she felt like a school girl, caught by the principal hiking her skirt in her first voyage of self-discovery. "You were driving a bit erratic ma'am", he continued with his drawled, even deep voice. " I know it may seem like nothing out here, but mesquite, tumbleweed, and armadillos', but we still got a few laws in this county we care ta' respect, and enforce. We recon' safe drivin' is one of em'." She couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. That, that same hot Texas sun on her brown legs, and that same 'on vacation' air-conditioner, and those awful long miles, and miles, and miles, had made her feel like she was in a sauna! Hoping to catch any whispered breeze, she had positioned herself to place her left foot on the gas pedal-trying to hold the speed steady, while she had straddled her right leg, languorously over the passenger's dashboard, the gear stick resting between her crotch.
She had settled deep, back into the womb-like bucket seat of her red, BMW convertible, (keeping the top up from the blistering sun), her head tilted back, her eyes half closed, enough to see the white ribbon of road, curving outside of the windshield ahead, with one hand on the steering wheel, and the other playfully, tenderly, rubbing her clit, 'her special button', only pausing to smell, and taste. Rubbing her clit, smell, and taste.
Rub.
Smell.
Taste.
Drifting off ever so slowly, imaging the faces behind the E-Mail names, (Izdat, Midori, Endeavors...)....
All pleasing her, tongues on nipples, between the cheeks of her ass, stroking her frenum, that puffy mound of flesh between her ass, and her kootchie. A thousand tongues, a thousand dicks of every size!
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
On along the gentle winding road, amid the red rock bluffs and cliffs...the sun setting... the first pinpoints of stars peeking voyeuristically from the twilight darkening. Dusk lights on....Headlights on...and then there was that damned deer! She had swerved to avoid, jolting back to the reality of now. She must have been pushing 80 fast, in her totally distracted lust, which was approaching her heated body temperature, when he had stopped her. "Can't we work this out, brutha' ta sista', she winked . "You did wrong lady," he remarked as he took out his ticket book. "May I see your driver's license and registration?" A moment of panic flushed her as she realized that things were going down hill fast! She handed him her license. "Ah give me a break!', she implored, losing whatever attempt at a drawl she had pretended too. "We're in the middle of fucking nowhere! I know we can cum to some arrangement if you would just let this one go! Can't we work something out!" She was practically pleading now, as an unabashed, real tear reddened her left eye and rolled down her cheek, "Are you attempting ta' bribe me?', he ventured. "No, No!", she rejoined. "I'm just a lone city girl, fuckin' foolishly out on a lonely road, ju- just trying to get to fuckin', Las' fuckin' Vegas, in fuckin' Nevada!"
He hadn't taken off those damn glasses even though it was ridiculously too dark to have them on, but it seemed as if X-ray eyes behind them seemed to be stripping her bare, as his gaze lingered on those smooth brown legs, exposed where the hem of her skirt had ridden up just below her crotch line. By his nearness she could smell, and feel her woman funk mounting, mixing with his cologne. He handed her the ticket, then abruptly walked back, her license in hand to his car as the tip of the full moon rose behind two breast-like mounds to the east, casting him in silhouette.
A cool creosote laden breeze fluttered her dress, and caused her drying panties to sway, as she got out of the car. She was practically riding his back when, he whirled and bumped into her. With one hand he pulled her too him, his arm around her waist, and with the other he cupped her right breast, pulling at the top of her dress, and exposing her bra. She assisted as he ripped at it with feverish abandon. His cologne was overpowering now, and her senses swam in it's heady influence. He kissed her wildly, walking her backwards, bunching her skirt over his arms, as her hands grabbed the back of his head, his hat spilling backwards on the road. She ran her fingers in his hair, pulling , stroking his ponytail, caressing his face. Her lips locked with his in snake entwinement, juice drooling down their chins. They were back to her car now, and in one deft motion he removed the dress over her head, tossing it in a heap. His masterful hands encircled her pointed tits, kneading them gently like soft dough for a most delicious bread.
His kisses were wet, soft licks on her nipples. "Mmmmm, yes, yes, mutha fucka!', she exhaled. "Touch me there!" She traced her red fingernails down his lean muscular frame, furrowing his spinal cleft, and he gave a low moan, as her tongue lathered his left ear, twirling it within the ridges and crevasses. She trailed it down the side of his shaven cheek, along his jaw line, the 'Adam's apple' of his neck, pausing only long enough to remoisten it in her mouth, and then as she continued determinedly downward, ripping at the buttons of his jacket, he extended his arms backward, briefly entrapped as he pulled at the sleeves, shaking them loose. She ran her fingers under his undershirt up his torso to his muscular chest, tweaking his nipples, as he pulled his undershirt over his head, flinging it on the car hood. 'Ohhhh', his moans grew louder. She tipped her tongue in the well of his navel, briefly stopping it's bath on her march to the reward between his thighs.
There was no pretense at modesty now as she squatted to her ankles, and her hands clutched the half-moons of his ass- cheeks like catcher's mitts, gently massaging their roundness, exploring each hollow. "O God, this can't be happening! ", she was thinking. "I'm married!" .
His pants were unfastened now, falling, draping, around his ankles. She dropped to her knees, and inhaled his gorgeous cinnamon cock, it's engorged veins like thick small ropes into her mouth. It was back behind that church pulpit all over again, as she worshipped it with her tongue. Long, slow licks, up and down it's tumescence. She palmed his balls between her lips, suckling on them, trailing up the shaft to it's moistened head.
She released his ass, as he stood her up and pinned her to her car. His thick tight loins thrusting like steam pistons. "Oh, oh,oh!', she panted. "Jesus, God, Fuck!" She felt her knees buckle, as his massive throbbing member entered her inviting cleft and she draped her left leg around the small of his back, spreading her arms, arching backwards, blindly groping behind, grabbing for the door frame to brace herself, holding on for dear life, from his rhythmic, staccato, pounding. "Sweet Jesus!", she gulped, breathlessly. "You-fuck-ing- me-to-death!" By her command, he abruptly dropped below her sight, burying his countenance in her vagina. He pushed his face into her soft, dripping clitty, his hand pressing on her hairy mons, his tongue firstly circling the top, now the sides of it's protective hood, then ever so teasingly slowly, around the exposed button. Gentle, tender tongue flicks, a puff of hot breath. Another gentle, but ever slightly more pressured lick.
Her pussy juice gushed forth in a milky flow of divine elixir! Somewhere on the realm of her senses, she could hear the rap of tiny drums. He spun her around and pressed her forward on the car hood, and continued his tongue laps, and swabbed her vulva to her puckered asshole, like a painter to an easel. His probing fingers inserted gently in undulating waves like an ocean into her nether.
He buried his face into her ass, his nose stroking, rubbing up and down into her brown eye as if that was where he had been born ,and he was trying to reincarnate the blessed event. He inhaled and exhaled her essence, pursing his lips and suckling in her smaller canyon.
Her legs akimbo, he lifted her on the hood, and she remounted his pulsing, bayonet of joy as he stabbed deep into her saddle of love. "Oh yeah, baby!', she mewed. "That's good! Put it in!" A car approached, an old station wagon, slowed, then continued on.
Even in the twilight, you could make out the faces of the couple and their children, pressed against their windows, staring in wide-eyed amazement, and shocked disbelief!
The sun was quite down, but in the lunar light, he seemed to glow as though from an inner fire within. The small sound of drumbeats was louder now, as if a thousand Zulu warriors were marking the cadence of her heart in a siege on her sexual soul.
"Ohh, Ohh, Huh, Huuuhhh, Whew! Fu-fu-fu-fuck! Hnnnngh!"
There was no stemming the tidal waves of undulating pleasure, spilling over the control of her senses, as she came in a glorious rapture!
Ohhhh, Ooooohh, Shiiiiit, Unnngh, Ohhh, Ohhhhhhh, Aaaaaaaahhh!'
Le petit morte', the French call it.
"The gentle death"............
She purred like a milk-fed kitten, as she sat upright against the car door, his head cradled in her lap. She brushed the ringlets of her hair, lazily aver his face, and dreamily stroked his ponytail. She knew she should have felt guilty but instead she felt..."Wonderful."
"Satisfied?" She could not quite frame the words, but whatever; "Girl, you know you've been thoroughly, and well, Fucked!" If she were a smoker, this would have been the scene in the movie where they would be sitting with their backs against the bedboard, 'Kamels', or some menthol, shared between them, blowing smoke rings, and asking each other, "Was it good for you too, baby?" He handed her, her license. She tossed it behind her onto the front seat. "Mmmmm, lover, you fucker! I should have your job for this!" she threatened, while snuggling closer to him. "You should, if ya' want ta'", he agreed.
"What do you mean, if I want too", she shot back. "Why wouldn't I want too!
Do you think I'm some black, Yankee, city- bitch that cums cheap, and easy when you stop them on the road? God, I might expect that from some racist- azzed white boy, not a 'brutha' whom nowadays would know betta'! Her words did not match her body language, she still cradled him in the lingering warmness. "Could he see through her fake anger?" she thought. "God, has answered your prayer.", he spoke matter-of-factly.
He was the proverbial puzzle, wrapped in the enigma.... "Shit, when you accept bribes, you accept bribes! Do you offer this option to all the young ladies you stop on this highway?" "No, only you", he replied. "I cum only for you. I didn't 'cept a bribe. I came 'cause ya' asked fir me." "What do you mean, I asked for you? I've never met you! Never thought or you!" she retorted, astonished. "And It came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born ta' em", he recited in a quiet voice as though to himself. "What?"...she began. He continued. ... "That the sons of God saw the daughters a' men, that they were fair, and they took em' wives of all which they chose.' "What a strange thing to say!" (she was perplexed). "What does it mean? Where did you get it from?" "Nothing", he replied wistfully. "Jes' sumthin', I 'member someone wrote 'bout a long time ago. A warnin', or a taboo ya' might say."
"A warning? About what! she ventured.
He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Oh those long days ago", he sighed.
"Ya' know, we envy you."
"Envy?"
"Envy, ya' not knowin'. The choices ya' have. Ya' illusion of choice."
"And what choice, do we have ?"
"The choice ta' be human.
"Rusk, Ya' jes' ain't makin' much sense!' she postulated, affecting her falsetto southern belle.
"Can ya' imagine what it would be like ta' meet someone for the first time, and be willin' ta' give everything up, ta' spend one special moment with em'?' he held up a forefinger for emphasis. "What would ya' trade for a special night of ultimate pleasure? For a special night without regrets, without repercussions? Would ya' be willin' ta' deny the voice of God, herself?" "Every nigguh got- a -line!", she said looking at him askance.
"Why did you say, I asked for you?", she repeated. She was feeling a little testy, despite the contradictions racing through her mind. "Did I conjure you up? My secret night in sexual armor? My lustful genii?" she asked with a bit of mounting derision.
"When ya' first made love, 'hind those curtains, in the church. Can ya' remember how free ya' felt? I was there.' "What the hell are you saying?", she gulped.
"Every stroke of ya' touch, I felt you. Every pleasure, ya' felt me.
I am your words cum ta' life. the inspiration, ya' told ya' husband, ya' long for.
I am ya' stories made flesh. I am as ancient as the rajahs whom loved ya' before.'
She shook her head , not so much out of disagreement as reflex. "Every nigguh', she thought to herself. "Some say; wherever ya' heart is, 'dere ya' treasures' gathered. Where ya' treasures' gathered', 'dere ya' God is." he spoke softly. The moon glistened on the beads of sweat on his chest, as she absent-mindedly rubbed her hands over his nipples. ....enigma wrapped in a puzzle. She wasn't sure what to think. Or how to feel. Or how to respond. "Treasures? My heart? My God? What I ask for? What I want!"
"What do you want?" he asked to her rhetorical musing. "I want to feel like a tramp, for what I've done!" she replied. "Want? he asked, yet again. "But I don't!", she confessed. I've never committed adultery. I write erotic stories, but I wouldn't cheat on my husband, for God's sake! Shit, there's enough slick-azz 'bruthas' like you, poppin' a young 'sistah's' cherry, and leavin' them fucked up! Pretty face and my black ass drops her panties! I can't believe it I wouldn't believe it if I told it to myself! The thought entered her mind. "How do I know you ain't got H.I.V or Aids or somethin'? I don't even know you! I let you slip me without a raincoat!
He reared up, reached in the open car window, behind her, grabbed her panties from the hook, and put them over his head, to his nose, like a makeshift condom. "Trust me, where I come from, we don't have Aids," he smiled. "The sword of my affliction is more ancient, and permanent." She wanted to laugh. "Oh yeah, right!", she harumphed. "As a rule, I wear a rubber, every time, but this time, I made an exception.", she guttered in a deep voice, trying to imitate his. Then swiveling her head from side to side, and raising her pitch to her best, Betty Boop sarcasm; "Yeah pussycat, but when it comes to Aids, the exception is the rule, boop!" She pulled the panties from his head. "Whatever, ma'am", he smiled. "Recon' had ya' been thinkin' ahead, ya' might got ta' avoid bein' stopped ta' begin' with. A little too late for that?" Before she could respond, he put a finger to her lips.
"I-am-whatever-you-want-me- ta'-be. Decent, or wild. Clean, or dirty. I am your muse. the heart and essence of your creation. Listen, a long, long, time ago, me and mine were faced with a big decision, that like, got us accepted, or rejected from good company.
The highest, good company, ya' might say. Some of us neveh' could make that decision. the choice was too tough. The temptations...'he paused. "Well, I made a choice!', she asserted. "My choice! For good or bad! I don't regret this night. I can't regret, this night!"
There was a long pause of quiet, as they watched the cookie moon ascend. The dying tail of a shooting star flashed overhead....
"Have- you- ever-met- any-one- for - the - first - time- whom -has- ever- given- -you-such- an- incre-di-ble- con-nec-tion?" she repeated his earlier question to herself, enunciating each syllable, slowly. She had spaced for a moment. She had thought of divine kings, and their apsaras.
"There are rules and laws betwixt men, and women. There are laws betwixt God, and mankind.", he seemed to answer an unseen questioner. She etched her fingers around his face, as though she were molding a mask. The forehead, the brows, the bob of his nose.
When she touched the dark, glasses, he placed his hand on hers. "What's with you and these glasses in the pitch dark? Afraid the moon will turn you into a vampire or something? Afraid to look in the mirror.? And, what's with the 'Old Spice'? It's so -so 60's!'
"The eyes, are the windows to my soul", he said locking his unseen eyes to hers. "You have already captured my heart, would you pull me down from the heavens, and take that also? The aroma is my own. An original mixture, of spices you might say. Yet perhaps an effluence, you can not tolerate?" She laughed. A great laughter of release, out loud.
She took his fingers, and began to suck them like little pricks. He lifted her right foot, and loosened the leather strap of her wheat-mesh sandal clog. He kissed the top, then massaged her heel, as he ran his tongue between the grooves of her toes.
A single jolt of electricity coursed through her body to the top of her head, as he inserted each trimmed, red, digit in his mouth, cleaning the dust from each one, seemingly lingering forever as he suckled her big toe. He removed both sandals, and tossed them towards the back seat as he lifted her feet, fondling them, rubbing his face between them, kissing them all over, then resting each one on his shoulders. With a leisurely pace, he crept his way between her legs, caressing her calves, kissing behind her knees, squeezing the muscles of her thighs, when they draped along his back. The distant war drums were starting again, their incessant beating in time with her heart.
His hands followed the curve of her rounded hips, and buttocks. Again he lost himself in her steamy jungle, but with practiced acumen his tongue negotiated the vibrant foliage to the buried treasure within the hidden temple. She became dizzy as she gave into the vibrating beat of the 'man in the boat', whose synchronous rhythmic paddling down her orgasmic river in time with his sucking and her heart, sent her cascading over her inevitable climatic waterfall. Again, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on limply as he raised her to her feet. 'Shiva', 'Isis', 'Domballa,' 'Jehovah', 'Ashera', 'Astarte', 'Allah'; whatever gods there were could not have promised her a greater glory of paradise if she were to this very moment deny the pleasure of his lance as he charged, then retreated, then charged repeatedly through the drawbridge of her enchanted castle.
The warm wine radiating from her pelvis became a sweet undiluted poison, as she climaxed, bucking uncontrollably with a primal scream!
She was fast losing her senses. By the light of the only moon, she saw he still wore the shades. "Damn those glasses, I've got to see your face," she gasped. "No, don't!", he commanded. But, it was too late. Before he could resist her, she peeled their frames from his ears, and flung them to the ground.
"His eyes! His eyes", she stared transfixed, paralyzed, but unwilling to move from the delicious, forceful, thrusting, impalement of his manhood!
His eyes were two, white orbs of fire. Glowing, as though the portals to a nuclear furnace out of control from within. His aura surrounded her, and her heart, pounding, beating, seemed to be past bursting. Her nerves were a warm, delicious fire, and her long, braided hair began to stand on end from a static discharge! The gentle night breeze, warmed as to ignition. She was as to be on fire! Then it happened! From deep within him, he let out a great bear roar, and as he came, the sky did open! The moonlight, reflecting off the night clouds revealed the swirling vortex. He dislodged from her, and staggered back to the highway. He tilted his head back, and like a werewolf, howling at the celestial cause of his affliction, let forth a bay, in a final bellow of ecstasy. A lance of white light first from his eyes, then his entire body, consumed, arced to the opening in the heavens!
There was a thunderous boom, and then everything went suddenly, totally black...
She awoke to the morning sun, an eagle flying overhead, and the distant sound of thunder receding in her ears. She was in the back seat of her car, the convertible top down, her dress back on. She felt refreshed, and energize, as though she had slept for hours.
Or had she? "Hell, even my panties are on!", she amazed.
There was no one besides her on the highway. No cop. No other passing motorist.
No deer. No one, but her. "Now that was a gentlemen!", she chuckled. "Was it a dream?!" she exclaimed. "A beautiful, erotic dream!" She got out of the car, and searched around. No tire marks, save hers. "Who was that masked, 'Highlander'?" she quipped to herself. She was barefoot, and the gravel rocks, pinpricked her feet.
She got back in her car, started the motor, and slowly pulled onto the highway.
"Ravished by a ghost, or a space alien, or an, an angel!", she smirked. "Umm, umm, umm! What's a girl to do in today's world!'
"Hell, I tell ya lady for the 3rd time, there's no officer 'Rusk', in this county!"
The fat, balding cop in the blue shirt behind the desk didn't even try to affect the 'Texas' lingo that 'Rusk' had possumed. "Hell we don't wear the uniform that you describe ,except for maybe the hat! Brown, 'aviator' pants? Did he have a gun?" "No, I never noticed..." her voice trailing off. She stood stunned, but kept an outward composure. There were quite a few shocks to recover. "Do you wish to file a complaint? A rape, uh, 'sexual molestation' charge? We get a description, we can go look for this guy!"
"No, that's alright officer.', she replied with a glassy-eyed stare. "I'm sure, where he went, you wouldn't have the resources to follow!"
Except for a brief rain shower, the rest of the trip was uneventful.
The hotel room was draped in reds, with a large slanted window, overlooking the casinos of the 'Vegas' skyline. The circular, canopied bed with it's satin sheets felt delightfully sinful where it touched her skin through her blue chemise.
"I don't see how you do it, honey", her husband complimented, as he emerged from the bathroom. A towel over his broad shoulder, his chocolate muscled thighs looked gorgeously fine beneath his tiger-striped 'speedo'. His familiar bulge was like a bag of hot chestnuts, becoming noticeable, as he dried himself. Beads of sweat dribbled down his rippled chest, as a halo of steam rose in wisps above his smooth, bald, pate.
"Those kids have enough energy to launch the space shuttle! Next time, I'll do the 'vision-quest' thang'! ', he directed. " So, did you learn anything? Did you get that inspiration, for your next story? You haven't really said much since you picked me up at the airport, but I can tell it did something for you. You look happy."
"I am happy, honey", she reflected. "When I think about the choices I've made and the wonderful man I have in my life"... she held her arms out to him.
And she was happy. Deliriously happy. She mouthed a silent prayer to God for such a wonderful husband. "They fit good together.", she thought to herself.
She would tell him her story. She would tell him all her stories.
He was her inspiration. He whipped the towel to the floor, his head like a well aimed torpedo as he dove to the harbor of her breasts.
"Or a big uncircumcised, penis.", she laughed.
"Huh", he missed the joke.
"I'm saying, You're my big, dicked, candy bar, and I am the luckiest woman in the world. I love you very much!" As his manhood throbbed, and expanded on her thigh, she could hear those distant drums starting. They lay cradled fetal in each other's arms. She gave him little baby kisses on his forehead, his closed eyelids, his nose, his lips. Her right arm was behind his head, so he wouldn't notice the envelope sized paper she palmed in her hand. It was a Texas speeding ticket.
It was blank. She crumpled it in a ball, and let it slide behind the headboard to the floor, then with an unnoticed wink, kissed him full on his soft lips.
It was going to be good night......