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From: bigboy12@freeonline.com (Manny Gotrocks)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 14 May 2002 03:52:08 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Song of the South 4: Busted, chapter 1
Date: Tue, 14 May 2002 08:10:02 -0400
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Standard disclaimers:  The following is a work of fantasy that deals
with graphic sexual images.  If this offends you, please do not read
it.

Author would love to know what you think of the stories.


Song of the South 4:  Busted, chapter 1

***
Milton Blevins flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling of
the motel room.  The plain expanse of white was hypnotic and soothing.
 It had been a long day for him, but that was par for the course.  He
always ended his monthly swings here in Ambrosia, and he always stayed
in this motel.  It was cheap, clean and modest, not a part of any
national chain.  He had checked in and showered and in the morning he
would head for home.  The question was how would he spend the night?

He worked for a medical-supply company in sales.  He worked four
different circuits throughout the state, ranging from a couple of days
to a week.  He spent a lot of time away from home, but since the
divorce home hadn't really held much allure.  The job paid okay but it
wasn't exactly a roller coaster thrill ride.  Milton Blevins was a man
adrift, full of a vague, nameless frustration.  He figured to spend
the night watching SpectraVision and jerking off.

His hand crept to the front of his boxer shorts.  His fingers slipped
in and began massaging his penis.  The organ responded to the
stimulation and began to harden.  He shifted a bit, allowing his cock
to spring free.  His fist began to slide back and forth along the
shaft.  He groaned a bit, imagining what might be on the movie that
night.

The knock at the door broke his fantasy state.  He lay there for a
moment, dick in hand, but the knock came again.  Grumbling, he got up
and went to the door.  No one was visible through the peephole.  He
undid the dead bolt and opened the door a bit.

It rocketed back into his body, knocking him off balance.  He felt
hands grab him as he stumbled back.  He was spun around, the room
whirling.  He ended up with his face pressed against the wall, a hand
around the back of his neck and something hard and round pressed
against his cheek.  It took a few seconds before he realized that it
was the barrel of a gun.

"Where is it?" a female voice shouted in his ear.  "Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Blevins stammered.  The sound of drawers opening and
closing, of the bathroom door being opened, came from behind him.  He
stayed as still as possible, convinced that this was the best course
of action.  It also allowed him to concentrate on not pissing in his
pants.

He heard a second female voice say, "I don't think it's here, Tee." 
The pressure on the back of his neck eased a bit, then released.  He
turned verrrrry slowly.  An Asian woman stood just outside the
bathroom door.  She held a 9mm semiautomatic pistol in her right hand,
but what he noticed was her beauty.  Heavy-lidded almond eyes, lips
like a down pillow, thick glossy black hair with auburn streaks, and
that was just above the neck.  She was only a few inches above five
feet, which accentuated her lush curves.  She wasn't looking at him,
but past him.  He turned, coming face to face with the woman whose gun
had been at his head moments before.

His first thought was 'She looks like a comic book character.'  The
statuesque amazon stood at least six feet tall, towering over
Blevins's five-nine.  A navy-blue T-shirt stretched tight across her
imposing bust and clung snugly to her muscular arms.  Broad shoulders
tapered to a narrow waist that flared into her lush hips.  Her denim
skirt ended just above mid-thigh, exposing a long expanse of toned
leg.  The whole package was wrapped in flawless velvet skin the color
of baker's cocoa.

Her face was the work of a sculptor or a horny genetic engineer. 
Graceful neck flowed into immaculate jaw line, chiseled cheekbones and
enormous chocolate eyes.  Her lips were full and tempting.  Her
jet-black hair was straightened and a spray of bangs lay across her
forehead while two wings of hair fell to brush her shoulders.  It was
perfect for framing a face so beautiful.  The gun in her right hand
was another matter.  It was an ugly, squared-off blue-black thing, the
barrel still pointed vaguely in his direction.

"What?" she asked in a voice that demanded an answer.  The Asian woman
shook her head.

"I don't think it's here."

The black woman lowered her gun.  "What do you mean?  This is the
room."

"Excuse me," Blevins said, stopping short as the gun rose toward him. 
He put up his hands, painfully aware that he was standing in front of
these two gorgeous women while clad in only a T-shirt and his boxer
shorts, and that his prick might pop out of the fly any second.  "If I
could just find out what's going on..."

"We got a tip that a crystal-meth sale was going down here tonight,"
the black woman snapped.

"Well, it's obviously not," Blevins said.  "You must have gotten some
bad information."

"Yeah, looks like it."  She lowered her gun.

"Excuse me," he said, "but may I see your badges?"

"What?" she snapped.

Blevins held up his hands.  "Sorry, but I was just minding my own
business, here in my room, when you busted in.  I'd like to at least
get your names, verify that you're really cops."

The beautiful Amazon looked down her nose at him.  "It was an honest
mistake.  We're sorry."

"I'm sorry too," he said.  He picked up the phone.  "If I can't get
your badge numbers, I'll have to call the department and ask."

"Wait a minute."  She reached into her purse with her left hand and
brought out a black wallet.  She looked at her partner and jerked her
head.  The Asian woman produced a similar folder.  They held them out
toward Blevins.  He took them warily, then stepped back and opened
them.

The black woman was Tarika Jackson; her partner was Sarah Chen. 
Blevins stared at the two badges and ID cards for a moment.  "I don't
see 'Detective' on either one of these."

"What?" Tarika snapped again.

"These both say 'Officer'," he said, tapping the folders in his palm. 
"Usually detectives lead in a bust like this.  They also usually have
more backup."  He frowned.  "Can I see your warrant?"

A look passed between the women.  "See, it's like this," Tarika began.
 "We were working off a tip, a tip that came in very late in the day,
see..."  Tiny beads of sweat popped out on her forehead, just along
the hairline.  Blevins recognized what he called 'bullshit sweat.'

"Wait a minute," he said.  "You two come out here with no warrant,
you're not detectives, and you roust me with no probable cause on some
maybe-it-exists-and-maybe-it-doesn't tip that you got."  He shook his
head and picked up the phone.

"What are you doing?" Sarah Chen said her first words to him.

"I'm calling your department and reporting this gross misconduct,
that's what I'm doing."  Blevins began to punch in numbers.

"Wait.  Don't.  Please."  There was a pleading quality to Tarika
Jackson's voice that caught his ear and flipped a switch in his mind. 
Suddenly, Milton Blevins thought that his night might not be so dull
after all.  He held the phone in his hand as he looked at the dusky
beauty.

"Why not?" he demanded.  "You broke down my door and held a gun on me.
 That's not just a mistake."

Tarika licked her lips.  "We're sorry.  It was our bad, no two ways
about it, but we're just trying to get ahead."

"What's your real assignment, anyway?" he snapped.

Sarah Chen blushed.  "I'm administrative."

Tarika looked down.  "Traffic."

Blevins laughed.  "So a meter maid and a secretary try to take me down
as a drug lord?"  He put the phone to his ear.

"Wait."  Tarika exchanged a glance with Sarah.  "Maybe there's a
way... maybe we could make it up to you."

Blevins felt a thickening lump in his shorts.  "What do you mean?"

Tarika ran her pink tongue around those lush lips again.  "If you
don't make that phone call, maybe we could... stay with you."

"Let me get this straight.  You're offering me sex in exchange for
letting this drop?"

"Yes."  Sarah spoke up.

Blevins stood up.  His erection was visible inside the thin cotton of
his shorts.  He held up their badges.  "I'm keeping these.  And I
don't trust you.  Tell you what... why don't we start with a search?"

The women exchanged looks.  "What?" Tarika said.

Blevins shrugged.  "How do I know this isn't a prostitution sting? 
No, I'm going to have to frisk you ladies."

"Look," said Sarah, "I'm willing to do something straight, but strange
stuff--"

"Fine," Blevins said.  "Deal's off.  I call the department."

"No!" Tarika cried out.  She slowly turned and placed her hands on the
wall.  Sarah did likewise.  Blevins smiled.

"Stay just like that," he said.  "I have one thing to take care of." 
He buzzed the front desk.  "Yes, could you come to 414?  I have
something I'd like you to put in your safe."  The women looked over
their shoulders, eyes wide.  In a few minutes there was a knock at the
door.  Blevins handed the two ID wallets to the desk clerk, using the
door to block the view of the room.  "Keep those for me.  I'll get
them in the morning."  The clerk nodded and left.

"Till morning?" Tarika said.  "I don't--"

"I don't think you've got anything to say," Blevins said.  "Here are
the rules.  I'm in charge.  What I say goes.  If at any point you
don't do what I say, your department knows about this.  Understood?" 
They nodded, eyes downcast.  "Good," he said.  "Now, let's get to it."

He stood behind Tarika Jackson and ran his hands over her long, long
legs.  He caressed her ass, passed his palms over her stomach, along
her ribs and over her arms.  Last, he reached around and squeezed her
juicy tits, copping a real feel.  He repeated the process with Sarah
Chen.  He could almost see them sigh with relief.  It brought a smile
to his face.  They started to take their hands away from the wall.

"I'm sorry," he said.  "But I'm just not satisfied.  I think we need a
strip search."  Their eyes widened and Tarika opened her mouth to
protest, but he simply looked at the phone.  Eyes snapping with anger,
they began to remove their clothing.  While they stripped, he went
through their bags.  He found handcuffs, which he tossed on the bed,
driver's licenses, insurance cards and keys.  He had an idea.  He
separated these items out and watched the women as they finished
getting naked.  Sarah Chen's body was superb-high, round breasts, flat
belly with a deep navel, pubic hair waxed to a thin landing strip and
chunky, muscular legs that still had a lot of good shape.  She paled
in comparison to Tarika Jackson, however.

Starting with her red-polished toes traveling up her spectacular legs
to the juncture of her thighs, from her six-pack abs to her bouncing,
up-thrust tits with their raspberry-sized nipples and her wide
shoulders flowing into her graceful neck, Tarika Jackson was a living
masturbation fantasy.  Even her pubes were special; they were trimmed
into a thick, compact triangle at the top of her puffy pussy, but the
hair in the triangle was long and thick and kinky, a springy mat that
pointed to the good stuff beneath.  Blevins whistled in admiration. 
Tarika looked away, embarrassed.

"Okay," he said.  "Face each other."

Sarah Chen shook her head.  "I don't do..."  Her voice trailed away as
he cast a pointed look at the phone.  The two women turned toward each
other; Tarika's nipples almost poking Sarah in the eye.

"Put your arms around her," Blevins ordered Sarah.  "Just put them
under her arms.  You don't have to hug her or anything."  Sarah
complied.  He used one pair of handcuffs to imprison her hands, then
brought Tarika's arms around the other woman's elbows and cuffed them.
 Satisfied that they couldn't disengage, Blevins gathered up their
clothing, purses and ID.  They protested, but he silenced them with a
look.  His cock swelled.  He was truly large and in charge.  He
slipped on pants and a pair of shoes with no socks.  He took their
clothes with him as he slipped into the parking lot.  It took a few
minutes to find the car listed on one of the insurance cards, a gray
Ford Contour.  He dumped the clothing and keys in the trunk.  He then
went to his car and took out his sample case.  He hustled across the
dark lot and back to the room.  They were standing exactly where he
had left them.  Blevins kicked off his pants and shoes, then unlocked
them.  "Now," he said, "let's resume the strip search.  Positions,
please."  The two women turned and faced the wall, palms on the white
paint.  Blevins immediately kicked their feet out and back until they
balanced on tiptoe and palms, their weight resting on the wall, their
calf muscles quivering and bunched with strain.  He opened his sample
case, took out a pair of latex gloves and snapped them on.  He had
thought to do Sarah first, but he couldn't resist Tarika.

He squatted behind her and felt his prick pop out of the fly of his
shorts.  He kicked the boxers away and felt the cool air flow around
his crotch as he began by caressing her feet.  One of her toes was
adorned with a gold ring.  He noted a vine tattooed around one shapely
ankle.  He ran his hands slowly over each instep, then up each
straining calf, kneaded both statuesque thighs.  The tension was
causing her to sweat; he could smell her.  He fondled the round
buttocks, let his fingers tiptoe over her broad brown back and pressed
his body against her as his hands ran along her arms.  His hands came
around in front of her and hefted her monumental titties, feeling the
weight of each of those perfect funbags.  He rolled and pinched the
nipples, feeling her shiver as he pulled the thimble-sized caps.  He
stepped back, breathing heavily.  Her head drooped; her body glistened
with sweat.  He reached forward and placed his right hand on her
pussy.  He rubbed back and forth, massaging her outer lips, then
slipped a finger inside her.  She was dry and gasped, but he worked
the finger until he felt her grow slick and wet.  He removed his hand
and squatted behind her again.  He was eye level with her peerless
buttocks.  His breathing was rapid and shallow as he took his hands
and spread those magnificent cheeks.  He was rewarded with a view of
the most perfect chocolate starfish he had ever seen.  He took a tube
of lubricant from his case and squirted some on the fingers of his
gloved right hand.  He thought about squirting some on his cock, but
he knew he couldn't stop if he did that.  He opened her valley again
and pushed against her sphincter.  Her position, which placed great
strain on her gluteals, and her natural inclination to clench her
bunghole meant that he had to force his finger forward.  That was all
right with him.  He heard her breath coming in harsh gasps as he
pushed his way into her anus.  An idea came to him as he crouched
there, finger lodged firmly in her ass.  He pulled out and stood up.

"Step back," he commanded.  She did so.  "I think you may be hiding
something up there," he said.  "Bend over and grab your ankles."  She
looked back, wild-eyed, and for a second he thought she would run, but
he held up his hand in the classic thumb-and-finger phone gesture. 
She shuddered, closed her eyes, bent double and grabbed her ankles. 
Blevins stared at her, faultless ass presented openly, her beautiful
face staring at him between her thighs.  He was in complete control. 
They were his to dominate.  He turned to Sarah Chen.  "Get on the
bed," he ordered, his voice raspy with lust.  She complied, scrambling
onto the covers.  He took the cuffs and fastened her securely to the
headboard.  He knew that neither of them would disobey, but the cuffs
were a nice touch.  He turned back to Tarika.

He pushed his finger back into her ass, then worked it back and forth.
 Feeling the anal ring loosen, he pushed a second finger in, then a
third.  Tarika sensed what was happening.  She trembled pitifully as
his little finger eased in beside the others.  Blevins paused, content
to force four fingers in and out of her stretched sphincter.  He
paused, squirted more lube on his hand and folded his thumb in closely
to his palm.  He pressed forward.  Tarika, biting her full lower lip,
released her ankles and braced her hands on the floor.  Blevins four
fingers slid in; the tip of his thumb touched her backdoor.  He took a
breath and pushed.  Her anus stretched and slipped over the last
knuckles of his fingers.  He forced his hand forward and she sobbed as
her anal sphincter expanded, sliding over the big thumb knuckle and
allowing his hand to push forward up to the wrist.  Blevins had to
stop.  His cock was oozing slime in a clear trail that puddled between
his feet.  He took a few deep breaths.  Something occurred to him.

"Listen," he said, "I know you're flexible.  I want you to push your
head back between your legs and suck me off."

"I can't do it," she gasped.  "I can't bend that far."

He pushed his hand in farther, watching his forearm begin to disappear
into her bowels.  He could smell her powerful stink, the smell of fear
and sweat and pussy.  "Tell you what," he said, getting on his knees,
"I'll make it easier on you.  Now you should be able to reach it.  I'm
going to keep pushing my arm inside you until you get my cock in your
mouth."  He began to push.  He was nearly to the elbow before Tarika
was able to bend over far enough, her tits mashed against her firm
thighs.  He could feel his hand pressing against something in her
intestines.  He placed his free arm across her back and pushed,
bending her further.  He felt her mouth engulf his erection.  He
wasn't hung like a stallion, so she could deep throat him with little
effort, and he was so aroused that it was only moments before he felt
his orgasm coming.  He slid his hand down, grabbing the back of her
head and holding tight, keeping her mouth over his penis as his jizz
exploded.  Upside down, she couldn't swallow.  She choked and gagged,
coughing until a ribbon of his sperm shot out of her nose.  His
eruption slowed and ended.  Blevins pulled his arm out of her ass,
slowly, noticing that he had lost the rubber glove.  He dropped onto
his haunches.  Tarika turned, sweat running down her body, coughing as
rivulets of his cum trickling down her chin and flowing from her
nostrils.  She grimaced and bent over, clutching her stomach as though
she was cramping.

"Yeah," Blevins said.  "I've heard it works kind of like an enema."

"Please," she whispered in a hoarse voice.  "I gotta go."  He nodded
and this splendid woman hobbled off toward the bathroom, holding her
ass cheeks together with her hands.  He heard her bare feet slap on
the tile, then a groan and the wet, noisy sounds of her shitting in
the bowl.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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