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Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 01

By: Stardog Champion



Any Father worth his salt would have been utterly distraught seeing all his Daughter had worked for, go for not. Sadly, 44 year old Curt Craft could remember that day three years earlier like it was only yesterday. Sitting in the town's quaint convention center along with his Wife and two other girls, Curt watched as his oldest Daughter, Kirsten, finished second in the town's local teen pageant.

While winning it would have came with a tiara along with the Title, not to mention a little bit of money for college, the main prize of finishing first would have been a trip to the state pageant, with a chance to represent Colorado at the National Miss Teen USA Pageant.

Finishing second among more than two dozen other girls was certainly an accomplishment for Kirstin, but to someone with as unhealthy of an obsession as his Wife, Darlene, it felt like a wake around the family's house for the next few weeks. While there was a certain level of disappointment in 'losing', what really stuck a knife in Darlene Craft's craw was that Kirstin had lost the local pageant to one of her biggest 'rivals', a girl named Angie Burton, who'd then went on to finish a respectable third in the State pageant.

Calling Angie "Kirstin's rival" may have perhaps been too strong of a term. While the girls had been in the same class since 6th grade, and often times found themselves in competition for attention, accolades and boys, there was enough to go around to keep both happy as they progressed through high school. The real rivalry was between Darlene Craft and Angie's Mom, Patrice. Much like 'little league fathers', 'pageant moms' brought their own peculiar mental defect to each and every interaction with their children as they tried, in vain, to live vicariously through them.

Curt had met Darlene while the two were going to college at the University of Texas. She'd been the product of a wealthy Louisiana family, and several generations of women had competed in the pageant hotbed of the deep south. When Curt accepted a job in Colorado Springs a few years after they married, Darlene saw a golden opportunity to put all her training, experience and good genes to work in a new town. Unfortunatly for her, the gene pool where they moved was significantly deeper than she expected.

Curt frankly never really became enamored with the whole 'pageant scene', but it gave Darlene and their three Daughters enough of a distraction that allowed him to pursue his hobbies like golfing, fishing and to be truthful, fooling around on Darlene whenever the opportunity presented itself on his increasingly frequent business trips. Certainly feeling bad for Kirstin that night when she found herself runner-up to Angie Burton, it wasn't like Curt didn't try to warn his Wife and Daughter that the results may be as much about who the girl's family knew as what happened on stage. He tried telling Darlene that the Burton's several generations long connections in Colorado Springs would play a role in the judging, and even though he'd never be able to prove it, he was sure it did in the end.

Politics aside, seeing Angie walk across a stage in a swimsuit, there was no way a man could begrudge anyone for giving the girl the nod to move on, even if his own Daughter was also in the running. While Angie's years worth of gymnastic training and cheerleading probably trumped Kirstin's piano lessons since age 7 in the talent portion of the program, there was an undeniable stage presence Angie possessed that most of the other girls, including Kirstin, did not.

Of course, while all of that made complete, rational sense, none of that mattered to Darlene. She had two other younger Daughters in the pageant pipeline, and with Kirstin coming so close, the pressure would now be on both of them to do what their older sister couldn't.

_____________________________

At her core, Angela Burton could be a real bitch. Having grown up in the cocoon of wealth and privilege, Angie discovered she could basically get what she wanted from most people before she learned to walk. Prettier than 99% of the girls she encountered, she also had been graced with a good head on her shoulders, not to mention more than her fair share of charisma. Add to that a Mother that was tantamount to a social bully, and a Father that was one of the most respected businessmen in the area and it was easy to see why Angie walked around with a silver spoon shoved up her ass.

While there was the occasional girl that created a 'threatening blip' on Angie's radar, she'd developed such a following over the years that most anyone influential in her clique would side with her because they inherently knew where their bread was buttered. Kirsten Craft would have certainly qualified as someone that could have thrown a good scare into Angie's Alpha Queen status, but it just wasn't in Kirsten's nature, besides even at her young age she was certain she didn't want the drama that would inevitably come with it.

While most of Angie's teenage cohorts eventually fell in line with the primal hierarchy of social relationships, the same could not be said for many of the Mothers of those same girls. Whether it was snide jealousy, bitchy gossip or outright accusations over Angie and her family's air of superiority, the young girl did walk around like she was made of Gucci Teflon.

One of the many things she did take a special and sick amount of joy in was seeing the reaction many of those same women's Husbands would give her when she was jogging through the neighborhood, laying out getting some Sun, or cheerleading at a basketball or football games back in high school. Naturally, many of those women hated Angie because she was prettier than they were, smarter as well, and frankly, younger.

Angie knew that little dose of cruel reality hit most of those aging women 'where it hurt'. Women just like Darlene Craft.

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It all took place in the blink of an eye the night Angela Burton won the Colorado Springs' teen pageant. Standing on stage, surrounded by all her competitors congratulating her, Angie held the bouquet of flowers like a newborn baby in her arms as they placed the tiara on her head. Through the muddled array of other girls crossing back and forth through her field of vision, Angie stole the quickest of glances out to the crowd, desperate to commit to memory the looks on the faces of the Mothers of some of her more strident rivals.

Flashing her beauty queen smile as she waved to the applauding audience, an internal glow of warmth and vindication filled Angie all the way up to her high, rouge covered cheekbones seeing the look of veiled disgust in the eyes of Darlene Craft, among a handful of others.

While she fully expected to move on to the state pageant and win, Angie had to settle for a third place finish, but even with that, it was clear she'd become a rather large fish in a pretty small pond back home. Accepting a scholarship to the University of Colorado, Angie moved to Boulder and started college the following Fall.

Deciding to major in International Studies with a minor in Hospitality & Hotel Management, Angie planned on traveling the world, enjoying all the fruits and benefits a girl of her obvious wares could before eventually settling down. Every once in awhile, Angie did make a point of coming home and visiting her family, and when she did, there was a tangible 'rock star' like buzz that spread through the neighborhood.

Home over Labor Day weekend three full years after that glorious night when she won the local teen pageant, Angie was now 21 and just getting ready to start her Senior year of college. Tagging along with her Mom and Dad that beautiful Saturday afternoon to a barbeque at one of their friend's house, Angie planned on mingling with a few old friends, maybe taking a dip in the family's posh swimming pool and wallowing attention she always seemed to garner when she was back home. When she arrived, there were easily more than 300 people spread out across the sprawling property, most were faces she recognized including Curt and Darlene Craft.

Angie didn't exactly come to the barbeque with the intentions of causing a stir. Except for the crowd that happened to mingle around the volleyball court while she was out there running and jumping with the guys, or the way the pool suddenly seemed to fill up when she took a quick dip to cool off, she stayed as under the radar as a girl of her ilk could. About the only outward flirting she took part in was when she crossed paths with a young man she'd had a crush on since way back in high school.

Quinn Conners had been a couple of grades ahead of Angie, but she spent the better part of her Freshman and Sophomore years trying to get him to notice her. She'd come close a couple of times but was never able to seal the deal with him. Now Quinn was at the gathering with his fiancé, and Angie took a naughty bit of pleasure casting him a seductive wink or pouty nod each time Quinn's soon to be Wife wasn't looking.

Then there were the Husbands. Angie's radar was keenly tuned to whenever she thought someone might be admiring her from afar. As the afternoon progressed, it was clear most of the men from the neighborhood hadn't forgot her. Most were way too cautious, given the environment and the presence of their wives, to brazenly walk and initiate a conversation, but the silent weight of their glares was ever-present.

Mingling with as many people as she could, Angie thought the afternoon was going to go off without a hitch until she found herself standing in line at the bar beside Curt Craft as they both waited to get a cold beer. Engaging in a round of friendly, good natured banter, Angie asked about Kirsten and Curt told her that Kirsten had just completed an internship with an insurance company in Denver, and planned on getting her degree in accounting before possibly going for her Masters in business administration.

The two continued their innocuous conversation for a few more turns until, like a tornado twisting down from a crystal blue sky, Darlene Craft swooped in out of nowhere.

Clad in a snugly fitting, tan bikini top and matching sarong wrapped loosely around her waist, Angie Burton would have difficult to ignore in pretty much any crowd. Her tanned skin glowing like a beacon under the marvelous, early September Sun, Angie's wet auburn hair glistened and sparkled from the dip she'd just taken in the pool. As radiant as the 21 year old goddess looked however, Darlene cut in between Angie and her Husband as if the younger woman hadn't even been there.

Darlene's ploy was painfully obvious to most everyone standing around, but her dander had been raised to the point that none of the surrounding glares even registered. The only thing on her plate at the moment was digging the claws of her agitated stare into the sockets of her Husband's eyes.

Nudging herself even deeper between Angie and Curt, Darlene eased her right hand down to her Husband's waist and unsuccessfully tried steering him in the direction in which she came.

"There's a couple over there by the fire pit that we haven't seen in a few years Curt..I wanted you to come over and say 'hi'," Darlene tried making up an excuse to tear her Husband away on the fly.

For her part, Angie just backed away slightly then stood her ground, allowing every bit of embarrassment for the situation to fall on the 45 year old woman blabbering less than three feet in front of her.

Refusing to be led away like a wayward hen, Curt at least stood his ground long enough to buy his beer before slinking off with his Wife. Anyone within 50 feet who could read lips could tell Darlene was asking her Husband "Why in the Hell he was talking to that girl?" as she walked him back to the BBQ pit. Curt simply sipped at his cold beer and ignored his visibly shaken Wife.

"He ought to throw that crazy bitch into the fire," half the people milling around were thinking if anyone there who could have read minds.

Stalking around the property for a little while longer, Angie found herself getting increasingly pissed at the immature and petty treatment she'd gotten from the woman who was more than twice her age. Just 'letting it go' sadly wasn't one of Angie's strong suits, and between the internal agitation and the beer she was drinking, an all too familiar feeling began to stir inside her. The combination of being a little pissed and a little buzzed always seemed, in the end, to create a sizeable amount of arousal inside her perky, young body.

Her first inclination was to try and find Quinn, to possibly consummate her long time feelings for him before he went and got hitched. After looking in vain for him for several minutes, it appeared his fiancé had wisely whisked him away.

Scanning the landscape for another guy that might serve as a suitable, and available, second choice, Angie didn't see anything that really appealed to her. Then, like someone with an itch they couldn't quite reach, Angela Burton latched on to the perfect elixir for the complex mixture of emotions swirling inside her.

Seeing her Mom and Dad were occupied with several other couples on the far side of the property, Angie knew her whereabouts wouldn't be an issue for awhile. Tilting her gaze in the opposite direction, she eventually zeroed in on the Crafts through the maze of sundrenched bodies. Even from a distance, she could clearly see the look of strain and aggravation on Darlene's face as she burned through one cigarette after another. Curt stood like a statue with his arms folded several feet away from her, sipping at his beer periodically, looking as if a root canal at that moment would been preferable.

Gossip travels quick through a neighborhood like Angie's, and there had been quite a bit of down low chatter about several affairs Mr. Craft may have had on his Wife over the years. Between the maids, personal trainers and litany of other service providers that frequented many of the inhabitants of the surrounding homes, tidbits of everyone's personal lives became public knowledge, even if the actual truth may have been stretched a little to make a better story.

If Curt had cheated once, or twice or a dozen times on Darlene, he was most likely susceptible to it again. Among the many things Angie had learned about men over the years, one was they delighted in doing things they weren't supposed to, especially if they thought they could get away with it. The other was, they had a hard time turning down a quality piece of ass. In Angie's mind, she knew she had both to offer.

"You can see he wants you," she told herself. 

"He probably has for a long, long time. And you can see he hates her right now. Might as well strike while the iron's hot," the devious little gnome in Angie's head added as she started to walk, more like stalk, in the Craft's direction.

What she was actually going to do when she got there, Angie had no clue. Weaving through the party patrons as if she were nothing more than a wisp of ethereal smoke, Angie got the break she needed when she saw Curt finish off his bottle of Miller Lite then start walking to the recycling bin about 20 feet away. Apparently liking the air the further he got away from his brooding Wife, Curt kept walking towards the bank of Porta-potties the property owner had rented for the afternoon.

"Things can't be this easy, can they?" Angie chuckled, keeping one eye on Curt as he disappeared into the bathroom, and the other on Darlene, who'd started talking to someone else as if she couldn't stand having to chew her cud alone.

Slipping inside the green door once she checked to make sure no one was looking, Angie immediately heard the word "OCCUPIED" raise gruffly from Curt's throat. Without taking the time to turn around, he continued to pee until he realized the person who'd walked in was still behind him after the door closed.

For the briefest instant, a tremor of dread rolled through Curt's belly thinking it may actually be Grahame Colvin, the Husband of Renee Colvin, a neighbor he'd had a brief affair with a few months earlier.

"I'm sorry Mr. Craft..I didn't realize someone was in here," Angela Burton offered with seductive sarcasm.

"...Angie?" Curt shuddered with his back still turned, his urine stream now becoming much spottier.

"This is about the only place to talk to you without your Wife swooping in," she answered.

"I'm gonna make this quick," Angie continued, stepping close enough to actually see the hair on the back of Curt's neck stand up. "I've wanted you for a very long time, Mr. Craft...probably ever since I was a little girl when I use to ride my bike past your house when you were out working in the yard."

It was a lie of course. If there was any neighbor that truly turned her crank, it was probably the guy who lived four doors down from her parents who looked like a dead ringer for Michael Douglas in his prime. That said, given Angie's well trained and convincing tone, Curt Craft absorbed every word as truth, having no clue he was just a means to a spoiled girl's selfish end.

"I've got to get back to Boulder for an afternoon class tomorrow. Is there anywhere we could meet right now..I forgot how much I wanted you Mr. Craft until I saw you a few minutes ago." Angie prodded, her warm breath now teasingly sweeping across his right cheek.

"Did my Wife see you walk this way?" Curt managed to mumble.

Angie simply snickered.

"As soon as you walked away, she just walked over to another group of people and started bitching to them....she's a real piece of work Mr. Craft..you deserve so much better," Angie continued to twist her emotional knife.

Taking a final step forward, Angie snaked her right hand around Curt's waist and took his dangling cock between her fingers.

"You sure there's no place we can go?" she asked again, this time resting her chin on his right shoulder as she shook the remaining drops of pee from his inflating appendage before gently depositing the straining girth back inside his shorts.

"Don't forget to zip up?" she told him as she grazed her angelic hand across the bulge in his pants.

"I'd love to dip my hand back inside there and pull it out again in a few minutes if you're game, Mr. Craft. There didn't seem to be a anybody over near Mr. Carter's garage..it does have a lock..meet me over there in 15 minutes maybe?" she added, clearly feeling his shoulder quiver beneath her chin before exiting the bathroom with just as much stealth as she'd entered.

Thankfully Curt remembered to zip his fly, but the rest of him was disheveled as could be. What Angie had suggested was the miracle offer to years worth of libidinal thought, but it couldn't really just be 'that easy' could it?

Scanning the landscape to make sure no one noticed both he and Angie emerged from the same porta-john, Curt cast one eye towards Mr. Carter's garage and could see Angie traipsing lazily in that direction, chatting amiably with a few people as she made her way there. With the other eye he could see his Wife's chatting up a few of their friends as well, her face seemingly cleansed somewhat of the bitterness of a few minutes ago. 

Even though Curt's mind was still struggling over what to do, other parts of his anatomy had made the decision. From the direction his feet started walking, it was clear they were tuned to the latter. Walking with the gait of a zombie, Curt absently brushed off several people he knew as he focused on Angie making her way to the garage.

"She's really serious about this," Curt kept telling himself as years worth of collected memories about the girl flooded back.

"She's half you age Curt..she's your oldest Daughter's biggest rival..your Wife loathes her..and we're here at a party with hundreds of other people who're just strolling around," the last vestiges of his conscience tried reminding, but frankly all that seemed to egg him on that much more.


Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 01



"You know you don't have a condom in your wallet..right?" a rational, almost nerdy voice chimed in Curt's head, but like a school boy hoping to get his first lay, he wasn't about to let that stop him.

By the time he'd rounded the hill to the main house and approached the garage, which by itself was the size of a normal home, the sound of all those voices in the backyard and people splashing in the pool were just a distant echo.

Easing around the front corner, Curt saw one of the garage bay doors open, as if inviting him inside.

Seeing Angie laying sideways across the hood of one of Mr. Carter's Mercedes in nothing but her bikini top and bottom, Curt couldn't help going back to his youth to the image of Tawny Kittean sprawled out across that sports car in that infamous Whitesnake video. He thought about making that comparison to Angie, but stopped himself in time, not wanting to show his age at such a tenuous moment.

A cold chill instantly slivered down his spine when he saw Angie reach forward with the remote control and close the garage door behind him.

"Did anyone see you walking this way?" she propped herself up on her left arm and asked, her boobs oh so noticeably swinging across her chest when she did.

"..No...No..I don't think so," Curt nodded his head and lied, knowing his tunnel vision had kicked in so quickly on his trek to the garage that a Mardi Gras parade could have broken out beside him and he wouldn't have noticed. 

Despite the fact that he'd been with a gaggle of other women over his life, Curt was at a temporary loss at what to do next.

"She's just sitting there waiting," the rabid voice in his head raged, but his feet were sinking in wet cement.

Curt's knees began to wilt when he watched Angie sink her right hand into the front of her tan bikini bottom. His eyeballs boiling as the girl's spinning knuckles stretched the sheer fabric, he was jarred back to reality when he saw her lips begin to move.

"I know you've had to think about other women all those years when fucking your Wife, Mr. Craft. Did you ever think about me?" Angie asked without a hint of shame.

"Yes," Curt barely managed, his throat tightening as the blood rushed to his lower extremities.

"A lot?" she asked again, without missing a beat. 

"Yes," he replied again even though his tongue was basically as useful as a rolled up sock.

"I thought so," Angie grinned knowingly, the sound of her fingers gliding through her wet cunt now filling the cavernous, but otherwise silent, garage.

It only took a couple of inhales before Curt detected the scent of Angie's arousal on his palate.

Pushing the front panel of her bikini down just far enough for Curt to get a quick look at her smoothly shaven mound, Angie felt a giddy jolt of power seeing his Adam's Apple bob. Sliding her rear end around on the freshly waxed hood of the silver Mercedes, Angie invitingly spread her feet wide to each side of the car's front wheel wells. Tossing the garage remote aside, Angie wasted no time sinking her hand back inside her bikini bottom.

"You gonna make me sit here and get off all by myself?" Angie verbally nudged Curt until he started walking forward.

"You can't tell me you've never cheated on your Wife before, Mr. Craft?" Angie slyly taunted, her nipples clearly protruding from the cups of her bathing suit top as she masturbated herself.

While that was certainly true, he'd never had anything on his plate quite like this.

"Did anyone see you walking this way?" a distant and fading voice in Curt's head asked one last time before his right hand came to rest on the angel smooth flesh of Angie's tanned inner thigh.

A charge of electricity shot through Curt's palm the instant he laid it down on Angie's leg, but she didn't seem to flinch one single bit. Leaning forward to kiss the 21 year old on the lips, their bodies melded together as Curt fell forward on top of Angie until they were intertwined on the slick surface of the luxury car's hood. Once Curt was flat on his back, Angie strategically placed her knee in the crook of his groin. Immediately feeling the pressure of Curt's erection pressing out the front of his shorts, Angie grinded her knee up and down slowly on his crotch, inevitably causing the older man's tennis shoes to patter against the expensive paint job of Mr Carter's Mercedes. 

Leaning forward once she had him trapped below, Angie reached back and undid the tie to her bikini top, allowing her pert, 34 C breasts to swing free directly above Curt Crafts' eager face.

Draping the thin straps of the bikini top across the prone man's chest, Angie proceeded to glide her tits softly across each side of Curt's face until goosebumps were rising across them from the ticklish stubble of his day old beard.

Rhythmically working her knee against Curt's cock as she rubbed her titties across his face, Angie dug her fingers through the man's thinning hair as he greedily tried corraling one of her nipples with his lips.

"You really did want this for a long time, didn't you Mr. Craft?" Angie eased forward and helped her the fleshy pendulum of her right breast into his mouth.

Curt wasted no time spinning the erect nub like a gumball between his teeth as an answer to her suggestive query. Swirling the tip of his tongue like a drill bit around the smooth circle of Angie's areola, the dreamlike quality of what was happening only intensified for him.

Sensing the strain of Curt's erection as it pushed out the fabric of his shorts, she could tell from the rapid fits and starts of his choppy breath that she could make him cum right there with just her knee. Given the stakes and her own selfish want however, Angie decided to take it further.

Slithering lower down the hood of the car, clad in nothing now but her skimpy bikini bottoms, Angie unbuttoned and unzipped Curt's pants in one stirring motion, allowing his jutting manhood to swing free.

"More than I thought, but I can handle it," she merrily noted before opening her lips wide and ingesting the upper two thirds of it without so much as a gag.

The scent of gasoline in the enclosed garage was about the only thing that washed away the utter disbelief at what was happening.

"She's gonna make me cum all over Charlie Carter's brand new Mercedes," Curt initially thought to himself, but given the vacuum seal of Angie's stretched lips, he began to think she might not let a drop of it escape.

Rubbing his right hand through the young girl's dark reddish colored hair as he looked down, Curt felt his heart pounding in his chest seeing Angie staring straight back at him. The jiggly warmth of her breasts resting along the inside of his right calf, Curt watched the 21 year old grab his unbuttoned shorts, and with one efficient, two handed tug pull them all the way down to his knees.

Tickling his swollen nutsack with her left hand, Angie circled the fingers of her right around the base of Mr. Craft's ample shaft as she sucked him off, the length of it bulging majestically in response to her oral prowess.

The ridged outline of his cockhead poking out the tanned skin of Angie's cheeks each time she bounced her face up and down on his crotch, Curt could feel the first twinges of his orgasm beginning to build. Angela Burton had other ideas however. Pulling her lips from Curt's penis the instant she felt his balls start to churn, Angie stood up and hovered there in front of the car.

"Please God..Please Angie...you can't just leave me like this," Curt groaned, his pants pulled down and his dick straining for relief as the half naked girl stared at him the same way an engaged cat would a wounded mouse. 

"Sweetfreakingjesus....Mary..Mother..Of...God," a wayward sigh leapt from Curt's lips a few seconds later when Angie stepped her right foot up on the polished hood of Mr. Carter's luxury car. 

The right was quickly followed by her left until she was standing directly above Mr. Craft's prone body. Swinging her left foot across his chest, Angie was suddenly straddling Curt's body with her feet bracketed to each side of his shoulders as the front end of the vehicle began to creak. Picking up her right foot, Angie playfully traced the tip of her big toe, starting on Curt's chin before swiveling it down his neck, she then dragged it straight down his sternum until she grazed her toes across the the spongy head of his swaying cock. 

Curt had sat in the audience at probably a dozen of Angie's pageants, even watched her on TV at the state one. He'd been to more sporting events where she'd either been playing or cheering than he could count, and had lusted after her in untold ways in private. To have her actually standing above him in nothing but the lower half of her two piece bikini, rubbing her toes across her straining manhood was nearly too much reality for him to take.

"Do you want me to take them off?" Angie chided, enjoying the way Mr. Craft struggled to answer in his prone and discombobulated state.

Rolling her thumbs into the lycra hem of her bikini bottom, Angie rolled them gracefully down her thighs, giving Curt a perfect view of her baby smooth pussy from below. Easing the garment over her knees and down to her feet, Angie decided not to kick them aside just yet.

Instead, she clutched the silky material between her toes and draped it like a towel across Curt's face, allowing him to freely inhale the clear scent of her saturated arousal.

Standing like a giant, naked Amazon goddess above Curt on the curved contours of the hood, Angie watched as his already hard cock stiffened and swayed even more once he inhaled the feminine nectar fluttering above his face.

Using her foot, Angie dragged the bikini bottoms down Curt's chest then over his belly before allowing them to come to rest on top of his crotch. She then twisted the soft, tan fabric around the jutting stump of his cock. Playing with herself the entire time she was teasing Mr. Craft with her bikini, Angie returned her right foot up to Curt's head before squatting straight down.

"This what you used to think about?" she mockingly asked, her pussy positioned within an inch of Mr. Craft's lips as she pressed her knees down to each side of his face.

Reaching down with her right hand and cupping the back of Curt's head, Angie wasted no time pulling his mouth forward until it smacked into her Brazilian waxed vulva. Adding her left hand to her right soon after, Angie essentially fucked herself with Curt's face until his cheeks and chin were covered with her dripping lust.

"Do you want to fuck me, Mr. Craft?" Angie asked a minute or so later, seeing the answer of affirmation glimmer in his hungry eyes because his mouth was so thoroughly occupied at the moment.

"How bad do you want to fuck me?" she interrogated further, her eyes locked on Curt's as wave after wave of her juices seeped down his throat with each successive swallow.

"Think that bitch of a Wife of yours would mind?" she jokingly sneered, the look in his gaze making it clear that Darlene Craft's feelings on the matter weren't on the docket that afternoon.

Reaching backwards with her right hand, Angie closed her palm around Curt's cock, jerking him off several times as she continued to feed him her soaking wet pussy.

"My little cunt is even tighter than that..especially for something as big as you, Mr. Craft..that's probably gonna be the biggest dick I've ever had," Angie told him that little white lie, but hearing it served its purpose of egging Curt on that much more.

"I hope I can take it...you sure you want to do this?" she added one final time in a voice eerily reminiscent of a Girl Scout asking if he'd like to buy some cookies.

Pulling her crotch away from Curt's face, Angie used her left hand to rub the vaginal sheen from his lips as he coughed to catch his breath.

"Goddam it...let's do this," Curt hurriedly cleared his throat and barked, sounding just like many of the younger men she'd had relations with over the years who desperately wanted to consummate things before they went and prematurely blew their load.

Alternating his gaze back and forth between Angie's face and the ovaled slit of her glistening pink quim, Curt had to continually remind himself that all his years of fruitlessly yearning for the young beauty may actually come true. The fact that he was in a neighbor's garage, reclining on the guy's brand new Mercedes while there was a party going on in the backyard had completely slipped his mind. The only thing in his universe at that moment was watching Angie's pussy slide ever closer to the head of his cock. Reaching down to aim the slightly bent shaft of his manhood straight up, Curt welcomed the squatting girl's velvety vaginal embrace with a huge and glorious sigh.

Sadly for Angie and Curt, there was an uninvited audience of one to their unscrupulous coupling. While Darlene Craft may have been born without the tact or empathy gene on her DNA helix, she'd been blessed with quite a nose to sniff out trouble. It wasn't long after noticing that both Angie and her Husband were nowhere to be seen that something might be up. Following her Husband's scent, almost like a hound dog on an increasingly ripe trail, it didn't take long before she smelt 'skank' as well as the invisible olfactory path led straight to the garage.

Darlene couldn't really say it was a surprise when she'd mozied up to the small rear window of the garage and looked inside. She knew of several affairs Curt had admitted but always assumed those were just the tip of the infidelity iceberg. To his credit, most of the stuff she knew about, Curt basically showed enough decency not to shit where he ate. Catching him having sex with a neighborhood girl certainly was a departure she wasn't quite ready for, especially with a girl like Angela Burton who'd she'd openly showed contempt towards for years.

"Maybe that's why he did it," a cruel but honest voice suggested, but knowing her Husband the way she did, deep down Darlene knew Curt was an unwitting pawn in the young girl's grand game.

"She's the one that needs to be taught a lesson..I can deal with Curt anytime," Darlene told herself before easing back from the window before anyone outside noticed her peeking inside. She'd seen all she needed to see. 

Totally unaware they'd been busted, Angie and Curt carried out their serendipitous interlude with stunning and carnal ferocity. Kneeling above Curt's crotch, Angie impaled herself repeatedly on his unforgiving cock.

Reaching up to squeeze both her breasts tight in his hands, Curt hurled his hips upwards off the car's hood, filling Angie's pussy to the hilt as the 21 year old girl started to writhe and wince.

"OH SHIT," she groaned, perhaps enjoying the older man's assault a little more than she expected.

Having no problem meeting Curt's thrusts, Angie's legs worked like a well oiled machine as she bounced up and down on Mr. Craft's stabbing prick.

"Best pussy you've ever had, aint it," Angie assured Curt as her bosom throbbed in the cradle of his strong and eager hands.

"UUHHHH.....HHHHUHHHH," he inevitably moaned his reply soon after, his release once again starting to build inside his balls.

That's when Angie decided to pull out all the stops. Darlene Craft had long since turned and left her hidden perch in the window, but if she'd hung around a little longer, even she may have been morbidly fascinated at the dexterity Angela Burton was about to show.

Buck naked on top of Curt, Angie slowed her downward momentum just enough to slide her feet out in each direction across the hood. Putting all those gymnastic and cheerleading training sessions to use, Angie essentially did the splits on top of Mr. Craft's lap, the entire time maintaining the pressure of her pussy's grip around his quivering shaft.

"Oh..my...God...Angie," Curt couldn't help but gasp when he saw the level of flexibility she'd exhibited on top of him.

"Your Wife never done this for you?" Angie mocked, seemingly tightening the constriction of her vaginal muscles with each concise word she spoke.

"Half the girls working for Barnum & Bailey wouldn't be able to do that," Curt managed a quick laugh before the sensations coursing through his body overtook his ability to speak.

"No wonder she won that pageant a few years back..none of the girls around here would be capable of anything like this in the talent competition, I'm guessing," he marveled to himself.

The only way for Curt to show his gratitude for Angie's extreme efforts was to reward her with the release she'd so captivatingly earned. Within two minutes of her impromptu split, Curt was sending wad after wad of his boiling seed upwards into the girl's welcoming womb.

"OOHHHHH...UUURRGGGGG....AAAHHHHHHHH," Curt groans filled the spacious garage, his entire body lurching wildly beneath Angie as she rode his spewing cock to orgasm.

Feeling the older man's cum flooding her insides, Angie reached up with her left hand and pinched each of her nipples as she scratched her manicured nails across her clitoris with her right, slowly and patiently dithering herself off several times as she bathed in the explosive glow of her conquest.

_______________________________

Meanwhile, less than 200 yards away, Darlene Craft chain-smoked as she leaned against a tree, her face as calm as chiseled granite as she made small talk with the occasional passer-by. Revenge, suddenly, had become the only thing on her docket...

Part 2 to come



Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 02



It wasn't 10 minutes after she spied the young hussy having sex with her Husband that Darlene Craft watched Angela Burton walk by near one of the backyard fountains at the party. Even if she hadn't seen Angie banging Curt on the top of that car for herself, Darlene fancied she could still detect his scent on the girl as she breezed past. If she listened hard enough, Darlene swore she could also hear her Husband's seed sloshing inside the bikini clad girl's womb each time Angie took a step.

"You can even see that freshly fucked look on her face," Darlene bitterly noted.

Holding a cold bottle of nearly empty beer in her clenched fist, Darlene knew she could walk up behind Angie and end it all right there. For whatever reason, she felt like that would be too quick, too easy. The fact that Angie had fucked Curt wasn't quite what infuriated her. If that was the case, there would have been a bloody trail up and down the Rockies from the women he'd stepped out on her with. The thing that grinded Darlene's goat the most was he'd done it with a girl who'd repeatedly stolen the glory from his oldest Daughter, Kirsten, and by proxy Darlene's own selfish thunder. Curt had also consummated the deed right under her very own nose, and the noses of a couple of hundred of her neighbors, any of whom could have stumbled onto the scene just as she had and started quite the ruckus on the neighborhood's omnipresent grapevine.

So yes, putting a 150 stitches in the back of the Angie's head would have been too tidy of a solution. Stabbing, poisoning, choking and throwing the girl in a wood chipper all crossed Darlene's mind. Hell, the variety platter of things she'd seen on the show "Snapped" even played out in her head, but in the end, Darlene sensed her endeavor would require something a tad more subtle and cunning.

She knew Angie was about to start her Senior year at the University of Colorado, and the girl's rare trips home to Colorado Springs would pretty much become nonexistent once she graduated. It wasn't like she could just show up in Boulder to try and pull off something and not be noticed either. On top of that, Darlene had to figure out a way to hit Angela Burton in a way that truly hurt.

On cue, her Husband Curt showed up out of nowhere a minute or so after Angie had passed. If she thought she could smell him on Angie when she walked by, Darlene knew she could smell the young slut on Curt when he slid up beside her and kissed her passionlessly on the cheek.

"About ready to go, Hon?" he asked.

"Sure. Anytime you are," came Darlene's vacant response.

_________________________________

Of all the places for such an insidious idea to hatch, it all came to Darlene in church the following Sunday. The collection plate was being passed around as the preacher made mention of some of the struggles one of the church programs was having.

In an attempt many years earlier to do some good in the community, several members of the congregation decided to try and take over a halfway house in the area that helped released inmates get their feet back on the ground before heading full bore back out into the world. It was called the Loughlin House, and over the decade or so the church had been running it, the place had made the difference in more than a few lives.

Unfortunately, when the recession hit, the funding for Loughlin steadily dried up, not to mention the money in the collection plates every Sunday. While closing the house down wasn't imminent, meeting the mortgage along with all the other bills became an ever-growing concern.

The seed of that idea germinating in Darlene's head as the plate continued around the church, she decided to meet with the preacher after church to volunteer some of her accounting skills, and her time to the Loughlin project in an attempt to help trim some of the fat from the program's budget.

While the thought of all those ex-cons made Darlene's skin crawl, frankly, so did Angie Burton. Even though the halfway house only took in non-violent offenders that had spent time in the church's prison ministry program while incarcerated, the men Darlene would occasionally come across gave her the heebie-geebies.

The mission of the people working at Loughlin seemed to be threefold. Act as a parole officer of sorts to steer the men in the right direction socially, to be a spiritual advisor to the degree they needed one, and to be a career counselor to help the participants in the program try to re-establish a way of legally supporting themselves.

To the more nurturing sort, which Darlene Craft certainly wasn't one of, the role of being somewhat of a 'housemom' was often a temptation, to feel sorry for the troubled young men that came their way. That 'faith in redemption' often times faded quickly when half the people who came through the program eventually wound up back in the legal system.

For the reasons Darlene found herself there at Loughlin, those percentages worked just fine for her.

_________________

Twenty-Nine year old Denny Pinson was making his second trip through the Loughlin House. A recidivist like so many of the others who'd made their way in and out of the program, each time he got a fresh start Denny swore he'd make it work. 

Having initially gone to jail at 19 for a B & E charge after several run-ins as a juvenile, Denny was paroled at 22 only to find himself with another five year sentence for possession with the intent to distribute less than a year after gaining his freedom. As much as he hated being incarcerated, Denny knew if he'd been tried for everything he'd been guilty of over the years, he'd be stuck inside for at least another 60. This time he was steadfastly committed to making this last chance work out.

Along those lines, Denny learned a trade in hopes of gaining some steady and legal employment. Having earned his electrician's certification at one of the local technical centers, Denny was only a month away from leaving Loughlin to get on with his life.

Despite the straight and narrow he was trying to walk, there were always the constant, seemingly genetic pull of trying to earn some easy money and enjoy some fast times. That complex mixture of emotions all came to a head the day Darlene Craft walked into Denny's life.

At a shade over 6 foot 2 and a solid 215 pounds, Denny Pinson cut an imposing figure enough on his own. Combine his stature with a wealth of tattoos, the perpetual 'chip on his shoulder' gait to his walk, and the constant slow burn of his gaze, and one could to see why he wasn't the easiest person to approach. Given the similar appearances and auras of many of the other men in the Loughlin program however, there seemed to be a glimmer of something assuring in Denny's presence.

At least to Darlene Craft.

Given the fact that she'd grown up in wealth and privilege and pretty much married into a gated community from day one, encounters with people like Denny and his cohorts were few and far between. Many of the residents at Loughlin were black or Hispanic, and even though she'd grown up in Louisiana's diverse culture, most of Darlene's view of such people were from the clips she saw of them being arrested on the news over the years.

Fair or foul, there was at least something in Denny's outward appearance that drew Darlene to him when she started making her trips to volunteer at the Loughlin House. Sensing the rich, older woman's unease, Denny steadily seized on the opportunity.

Having immediately took notice once Darlene started hanging around the house a few days each week, she was certainly a visual improvement over the normally retired, and often crusty old guys the church usually sent over. While Darlene usually kept to the main office on the first floor of the house, Denny noticed her expanding her territorial wanderings as she became more comfortable, especially out to the smoking area in the backyard where she could hold her own with any of the former inmates.

It was very clear early on that Darlene wasn't happy about being there, looking as if she too was serving some sort of court mandated sentence like all the other residents there. Ever the student of human nature, Denny playfully toyed with several scenarios of why the seemingly rich and well adjusted woman would find herself volunteering at such a place.

Being a member of the church that sponsored the program, perhaps Darlene possessed a sense of altruism and simply wanted to help people turn their lives around. Denny didn't buy that theory from Mrs. Craft's visible lack of passion over being there. 

Perhaps she was just a rich housewife who was bored. While that may have been part of it, Denny knew a woman in her social circles would have had hundreds of other opportunities to keep herself busy instead of dealing with the types of issues she was surrounded with at Loughlin.

Seeing the way Darlene sort of prowled around on occasion as if sizing up many of the prospects there, Denny most tangible theory was the woman had some sort of 'bad boy' fetish she was hoping to tap into, and God knows she'd stumbled upon a gold mine there if that's what she was looking for. Even that theory was harpooned after awhile for Denny when he saw the way Darlene quickly and efficiently repelled the many come-ons, some subtle and some outright forward, that came her way.

Continuing to keep his distance until he could figure out the married woman's angle, Denny found himself thrust into things when he returned to the house one afternoon after looking into a few job leads.

At that time, there were 11 guys residing at the Loughlin House, most of whom Denny considering pretty decent fellows. As with any group that size, there was always one or two bad apples. The one in this group happened to be a guy named Gary Grayson.

In his mid 30's, Grayson had been in the state pen for nearly a decade. This was his first time through a program like Loughlin's and many of the 'veterans' could see Gary was ripe for a quick return into the system. It mainly came from Gary's 'take what I want, when I want' mentality. While most of the guys at Loughlin had been guilty of the same mindset over the years, they also knew through experience where it would eventually land them.

Then there were the guys that were just plain horny after spending so much time behind bars, and a guy like Gary Grayson fell squarely into both those camps.

Denny had been off to the side listening one day as Gary talked to one of the other men there, going on and on about his previous female conquests. Considering the guy had spent the previous 10 years locked up, Denny wasn't surprised Gary conveniently left out all the encounters he surely had while incarcerated. Having done two separate tours of duty himself, Denny had a pretty good idea how someone of Gary's slim size and stature managed to make due all those years.

For a 'ladies man' like Gary however, once he was free, it served quite the psychological purpose to go on and on about his 'braggable experiences' as well as try as quickly as possible to re-affirm his heterosexuality by nailing as many women as he could once he was free.

For someone as visually desirable as Darlene Craft to suddenly walk into Gary Grayson's life was like raw meat being placed on a tray inside a starving tiger's cage. While Darlene had certainly become the 'locker room' talk around the house the previous few weeks, given the situation the men were in, and the lack of women they were use to having around, Betty White could have been volunteering there and never got a moment's rest.

There was just something about Gary Grayson's persistence however, much like an old time inmate pounding on a stone until it gives way in his pursuit of Darlene Craft.

For her part, Darlene didn't initially show one iota of interest toward Gary. Whether it was because of his race (he was black), a general lack of attraction or chemistry, or simply that she was married and not looking to ruin that over a freshly minted parole, it became down right comical for the other guys watching Darlene repeatedly shoot Gary down.

The longer he watched the game play out between Darlene and Gary, the more another much less explainable hypothesis started to take root inside Denny head. It was clear whatever the older woman was there to find, Gary wasn't it.

Only concerned with the challenge of seducing the rich, married woman, on the afternoon in question, Gary's open flirtations may have went a little too far.

Denny's original plan was to steal a cigarette or two in the solitude of the smoking area in the backyard before taking a shower. Before he could round the hallway that led to the back door however, the sound of a couple of voices coming from outside slowed his feet to a standstill.

It didn't take long to recognize Gary Grayson's voice, and after seeing Darlene's Craft's car parked out front, he instantly recognized her voice as well. A sardonic little smile pushed out the corners of Denny's cheeks.

"There Gary goes again, giving it a try," Denny thought to himself until the tone of the eavesdropped conversation took on a slightly more focused intensity.

A couple of steps away from the door and completely hidden from view, Denny propped himself against the wall and took in the increasingly heated discussion.

"You keep leading me on...its getting very frustrating," Gary said plainly, his voice dancing the razor's edge between playfulness and aggravation.

"And I keep telling you I'm married and I'm not here to mess that up...its flattering Gary, it really is, but that's not a line I'm going to cross," she replied convincingly enough, but Gary wasn't having any of it.

"You don't know how nice I can be, pretty lady," Gary continued to charm as if Darlene's rebukes were rolling off his skin.

"I bet ya I could show you things your Husband never could," he added, just like a man who had nothing to lose. "We're the only ones here right now..why don't you just sneak up to my room..I know you want to."

There was a pause after the latest volley of words, one that turned long enough that Denny started to think Darlene may have really been contemplating Gary's cocksure offer. Imagining the two silently puffing at their cigarettes as Gary's suggestion hung in the air along with all the exhaled smoke, Denny's eyes started to itch with jealousy and his feet started creeping forward. From his hidden perch in the hallway, he really started to think Darlene may finally be wearing down under Gary's flirtatious bombardment.

Having spent a good bit of his adult life in prison, confrontation wasn't something Denny Pinson shied away from. Stepping out into the courtyard as if he had no clue anyone else was there, Denny made eye contact and nodded towards Gary and Darlene.

"Beautiful day, huh," he greeted them both, noting the change in the pair's expression as Darlene slinked a few steps to the side.

There was a strange and confusing juxtaposition in Darlene's stance. Watching her fold her arms across her chest, Denny was able to see her nipples poking noticeably through her top as she puffed anxiously on the last few drags of her cigarette.

"Maybe she really was giving it some thought," Denny told himself, glad now he'd stepped outside when he did. That said, there was also a measure of relief in Darlene's exhales, as if she was glad Denny showed up so she wouldn't have to make the ultimate decision about Gary's advances.

Gary, on the other hand, was annoyed beyond belief that he'd been interrupted at such a vital moment, even though he did a decent job of concealing it while Darlene was still there.

Lighting a Marlboro of his own, Denny chuckled under his breath as if to subliminally say to Gary, 'Almost, Dude".

"Well I've got to get back to work..you guys have a good day," Darlene interjected, tapping the butt of her cigarette out in the large, sandy ashtray as she headed back inside.

"Damn, Man..I was that close," Gary cringed once he knew Darlene was out of earshot.

"You've been trying to hit that for a few weeks now," Denny dismissively waved Gary off. "It aint gonna happen...She's just too nice to tell you to fuck off."

Rubbing his hands with frustration across his head, deflation filled Gary's eyes as he carried himself back up to his room, grumbling the entire time as Denny amusingly watched him walk away.

Taking one last drag before flipping the rest of his cigarette aside, Denny made his way back into the house as well, only he was headed towards Loughlin's first floor office.

_______________________________

"Oh....ah..I was just getting ready to lock up for the afternoon..is there something wrong....Denny, isn't it?" Darlene asked, a little startled when she turned and saw the much taller man standing there.

The key to the office dangling in her hand, the two stared silently at each other for a couple of seconds.

Knowing the House's Director usually left early on Wednesdays, Denny was certain Darlene was alone in the room. Gently pulling the door closed behind him and taking two non-threatening steps forward, Denny tried re-assuring the cornered woman with his most disengaging smile. 

"That Gary guy is pretty relentless, huh?" Denny joked, trying to put Darlene at ease even though her eyes had widened noticeably since he closed the office door.

"Yeah..I guess I should have expected stuff like that when I accepted the position here," she replied, measuring her words with care.

"Yeah..take a pretty woman and put her in a place with a bunch of crass guys who just got out of jail..it does have the makings of a combustible mix..I'm surprised it hasn't been worse on you than it has. You seem pretty tough though," Denny nodded and sighed, sensing he was gradually earning Darlene's trust.

"Thanks again for....you know...coming along when you did out there," Darlene rung her hands and offered, cautiously easing towards him now as he stood in front of her makeshift desk.

Spending a few seconds to surgically train his eyes straight on Darlene's, Denny spoke up and forever changed the tenor of their new relationship.

"You have no idea what these men around here are capable off," he told her in no uncertain terms. "Most of us have been caged like animals for the last few years. Even though we're 'free' now, you just don't turn all of that off like a spigot. I know this is going to sound crude, but with as long as these guys have been without a woman, they can pick up your scent from three rooms away..and there's no telling what might happen when all those primal urges take root inside guys who've already shown they don't make the best judgments in life. And I wont always be around to save your ass."

Denny's blunt warning sent chills down Darlene's spine. In a normal situation, the reality he laid out for her would have sent any able-bodied and right thinking woman running for the hills. Besides the icepicks of fear pricking at her back, another feeling, one of ticklish anticipation suddenly began fizzing in her chest as Denny's words registered inside her head.

Listening to the calm, well thought out wording of Denny's unspeakable threat, Darlene knew she'd found the guy for the job she'd come there to fill.

"Its none of my business, but tell the truth..just why are you here at a place like this?" Denny leaned in and asked, making it plain she wasn't getting by him without an honest answer.

Having spent enough time walking God's green Earth, Denny had come to the age old realization that people were stirred to act by three basic things; pleasure, personal gain or revenge. Standing there listening to Darlene go through the bullet points of her situation with her Husband and the opportunistic girl from the neighborhood, Denny sensed option three would be the motivation this time.

"Just divorce him..take him to the cleaners," was the first thing to cross Denny's mind, but he bit his tongue before uttering it when it dawned on him from Darlene's tone that she was more concerned about settling the score with the girl first.




Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 02



"You say she's a beauty queen?" Denny asked incredulously once there was a lull in Darlene's story, his head shaking as he tried to get his head around doing something to a girl who'd almost won the Miss Colorado Teen Pageant a few years earlier.

"What exactly do you want to do to her..I'm not in the killing business," Denny tried getting a handle on what Darlene's intentions were.

"Oh..I don't want her dead..I want her alive and living with the consequences of what she's done," she bitterly spat when she sensed Denny may be on board.

As if still not fully believing Darlene's story, Denny made her fire up the computer on her desk to dial up a couple of pictures of Angie on the internet.

"There she is..in all her splendor," Darlene offered, rolling her eyes and folding her arms as Denny leaned in for a better look.

"Damn", was all he could muster, causing Darlene to turn her head and sigh disgustedly as she watched yet another man swoon from the sight of Miss Angela Burton in all her pageant glory.

"She's a Senior up in Boulder ..she hardly ever comes home..whatever you do..it would probably have to be up there," Darlene tried prying his attention away from the monitor to the task at hand.

"I think I saw on your file you have a background in construction..and you just got your electrician's certification..right?" she asked.

"Yeah," Denny replied, his attention still mostly on the various images of Angie as he scrolled down the screen.

"My Husband has some connections in the contracting field. I know there isn't a lot of building going on with this economy..would certainly help getting steady work if you had some people looking out for you," Darlene eased up to the edge of the desk to make sure Denny was listening.

"Yes..I guess it would," he took a deep breath and answered once Darlene had killed the mood.

"I'm going to need a few things," he told her. "But I think I have an idea of how we can do this."

"Good," Darlene said cautiously. "What sorts of other things?"

_______________________

A significant amount of cash would be one thing Denny needed to start with.

"How do I know you're not just going to skip town if I give you a thousand dollars?" Darlene prodded.

"You don't," Denny nearly laughed in her face. "Trust me..a Grande isn't worth skipping out on my parole."

"What exactly do you have in mind?" Darlene asked, wishing she could reach out and snatch the words the instant they left her mouth.

"The less you know, the better..what do those politicians call it..plausible deniability?" Denny dryly offered, sensing Darlene's awkwardness in the situation, but also her resoluteness as well.

Denny had no personal grudge against the girl in question, but it wouldn't be the first time he ever did something to someone he didn't have a beef with. The $500 he was going to skim off the top of the $1,000 Darlene was going to give him would be a nice tip, and the contracting work she promised would be a nice foot in the door to an otherwise horrible economy. But there was one other selfish gratuity Denny felt obliged to take.

"I guess we're done here for now," Darlene started to say, but Denny stepped forward, casting an ominous shadow over her before the first word came out.

The money Darlene was going to give Denny would take care of the supplies he needed to put Angie in the pickle he planned. The job prospects Darlene mentioned would certainly help him get his feet on the ground once he was discharged from the halfway house as well. There was one more shred of opportunity however that he wasn't going to let slip by.

"You know Mrs. Craft..those other guys here are going to keep hitting on you," Darlene saw Denny's lips move but she was more dumbstruck watching him step towards her to really process what he was saying.

In her head, Darlene had made the assumption that once she enlisted someone to help with the task she'd volunteered there to fill, she'd instantly quit and get back to her day to day monotony of being a rich and spoiled, gated community housewife. 

"You'll want to stick around working here a few days a week until we can get this little endeavor of ours into the rear view," Denny looked her in the eyes and said.

"The last thing I need is having to show up at your house unannounced to work out some sort of detail, and we definatly don't need any phone trail between us," he continued, watching with satisfaction as Darlene's head nodded up and down in begrudged agreement. 

"Just stay here until the waters have calmed," he added, close enough now to smell the older woman's perfume, and every bit of fear and trepidation it failed to cover up.

".......OK....," Darlene found herself mumbling, a far cry fom the defiant clarity she normally spoke with.

Allowing the gravity of the moment to fall around them like a light dusting of snow, Denny once again spoke up.

"Like I said, Mrs. Craft .....if you're gonna stay on here at the house..you're gonna have to deal with all the rest of these jackals following you around everyday..it's best they know up front you belong to someone else."

Denny's words sounded like a well thought out riddle as they burrowed one by one into her brain, a riddle she thought she knew the answer to but just couldn't begin to formulate a coherent response.

Just as Denny was so close he could smell the married woman's perfume, Darlene could inhale the cavalcade of scents wafting from his pores as well, and the invisible mixture of pheromones somehow paralyzed, yet invigorated her.

When he said something about 'belonging to someone', deep down Darlene knew he wasn't talking about her Husband. Not even realizing she was babbling incoherently the entire time Denny stood there face to face with her, her voice suddenly went mute as if a thunderclap from the Heavens had erupted in that small, locked room.

Like the bite of a shark, Denny Pinson's right hand had closed tight around the crotch of Darlene's black dress pants.

"UUUHHH....AAAHHHHHH," her voice finally trickled like broken glass from her lips, feeling the pressure of Denny's five fingers pressing down in unison as she crumpled into a heap against her desk.

Catching herself before knees completely gave way, Darlene reached back and clenched her hands around the edge of her desk as Denny's hand enveloped the front panel of her tight fitting slacks. 

It was clear who she belonged to, at least while she was at Loughlin.

In her mind's eye, Darlene pictured herself trying to twist away, re-buffing the stoic, ex-con's advances. In reality, her crotch was helplessly skewered on Denny's hand, her body looking as if it had been suspended on the teeth of the Devil's pitchfork as she whimpered for mercy.

The moisture saturating her crotch was stunning, and it had been building long before Denny put his hand down there. Sounding like a ruptured water balloon inside her slacks each time Denny cinched his fingers over the soft material, the jerky screech of the legs of Darlene's desk filled the room as her rear end rutted backwards against it.

"..What..are...you..doing...?" she tried to ask, her eyes squinting, and her lips curling a little more each time Denny squeezed his palm tighter.

"Exactly what you want," he growled before kissing her savagely on the lips.

Without a hint of hesitation, Darlene hurled her arms around Denny's back and held him a desperate embrace as he cruelly, and possessively, kneaded her crotch. His lips mashing down against hers, it felt as if the younger man had turned into a velvet fog clouding every bit of her good judgment and will.

It had been a long time since passion had been a significant part of Darlene Craft's life. Expending so much energy keeping up appearances and trying to pretend her life was idyllic as she made it seem, to actually be touched by a willing and eager hand was a feeling she'd almost forgotten. Other than the occasional perfunctory spousal duty with her philandering Husband, sex had long become an afterthought for Darlene. Even during those sporadic bouts of 'marital bliss', she was smart enough to know he was thinking about a multitude of other women, the same as she was thinking about anyone but him.

To actually have another man kissing her with unfettered and animalistic desire ripped the cap off the well of Darlene's long denied lust. Knowing she could have had countless affairs of her own over the years if she'd wanted, Darlene had fought the temptation. Now here she was, literally being taken by a man she'd known for less than 10 minutes really, and all that unshackled want boiling inside her bled free with every rabid gasp she took.

If her Husband could bang the little Princess down the street, what was so wrong about her giving herself to a man who'd been getting out of jail when the event between Angie and Curt happened.

An overwhelming primal urge to sit up on the cluttered top of her desk and spread her legs for Denny roared like wildfire through Darlene's bones. Looking down through her slitted and watering eyes, Darlene could feel Denny's power coursing through her loins each time he squeezed his palm down across her crotch, much the same way a man would crush an aluminum beer can in his bare hand. Denny however, wasn't about to let her go.

His tongue now rolling around hers like two interlocked serpents, Darlene felt Denny's free hand slip under her sweater until he was openly fondling the ample swells of her breasts as well through her lacy, but now cock-eyed, black bra.

Fiercely pressing her thighs together around Denny's buried right wrist, Darlene looked as if she was trying to suck his entire arm through the crotch of pants and deep up inside her. Using every bit of jerry-rigged friction she could, Darlene made herself cum.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHAAAHHHHHHHH," the married woman cried out, quickly biting her jaws down on Denny's left shoulder to muffle her jarring screams.

"He just made me cum and he's barely even touching me," Darlene internally whispered as she tettered repeatedly against Denny's unflinching frame.

"Its about what's inside you as much as what he's doing to you," a voice in Darlene's head reminded as she blissfully humped her spasming crotch against the imposing ex-con's eager fingers.

Darlene's feet continued to jerk off the floor each time Denny wrenched his hand between her legs. When he sensed she was spent, Denny calmly pulled his hand free from the grip of her thighs and snuck it underneath the gasping woman's sweater, using both hands to fondle her heaving breasts.

For the longest time, Denny didn't say a word. He didn't have to, the rise and fall of Darlene's chest as she tried to collect her breath was all the soundtrack the moment needed. 

Staring straight down at both the young man's hands working underneath her top, Darlene pressed her wobbly weight all the way backwards to keep from withering to the floor as she lazily grazed her fingers across the front of her slacks, feeling the bloom of her throbbing vagina buzz just beneath her soaked panties. When she tilted her gaze back up to Denny's, it was clear from the searing intent in his eyes he was far from done with her.

Sensing the expectation in his hallow brown eyes, without a single qualm, Darlene slid her rear end off the top of her desk until she was kneeling at Denny's feet. Looking up at him now towering majestically over top of her, Darlene raised her trembling hands and worked them into the loop of Denny's leather belt.

___________________________

The serendipitous trip to follow Darlene Craft to her office from her cigarette break had turned out much better than Denny Pinson ever expected. Whether he was simply following the invisible scent of the woman's need, or playing an opportunistic hunch, the fact that he had the married woman on her knees unzipping his pants less than 10 minutes after closing the door caused even someone as cynical as Denny's head to spin.

Brushing the hair from Darlene's eyes with the same hand he just used to frig her to orgasm with, an evil grin spread across the man's weathered face admiring the lengths she'd gone to in trying to get some retribution for the girl who'd fucked around with her Husband. For Darlene to leave her lily-white gated community and come over to the other side of the tracks, then lay low long enough with all the snakes in the grass at Loughlin just to find the right guy to perform the task filled Denny with a haughty sense of pride knowing he was the one she'd ultimately chosen.

Watching the head of his rock hard shaft disappear between Darlene's lips the instant she freed it from his fly, Denny couldn't help but wonder just what a woman 'that committed' could be capable of. In the end, it would surprise even him.

___________________________________

The fact that she'd so quickly, and willingly, dropped to her knees in front of a relative stranger like Denny shook Darlene to the core. The first slivers of her post orgasmic glow beginning to fade, the gravity of what she'd submitted herself to started to seep in.

"You got what you wanted," Darlene told herself. "You found a man that's going to take care of Angie...that's what you came here to do and that's exactly what you did..if this is what it took to do it, then so be it."

The cold, calculating thought processes of Darlene's mind was juxtaposed to something even more troubling. She was actually enjoying it. The butterflies stirring in her belly each time Denny's cock jumped in her mouth caused a feeling of wantful need that Darlene wasn't quite prepared for. A genie had been released whether she wanted to admit it or not, one that wasn't about to politely slip back inside it's long corked bottle.

Her temples pounding as Denny fingers massaged her scalp, Darlene had to hold on tight to the backs of the younger man's thighs as he hurled his pelvis in rough and rhythmic circles in front of her awestruck face.

Stretching her lips to full capacity as she struggled to accommodate Denny's bulging manhood, a starburst of light exploded in her brain each time the head of it slammed into the back of her throat. Even though Darlene hadn't been the first woman Denny had been with since his release from prison, she wouldn't have known it from the desperate and fiendish way he violated her mouth. His hands gripped tight to each side of Darlene's expensive hair-do, Denny was spurred on by the slurping sounds of Darlene made as she withstood everything he could throw at her.

Oh, how he's dreamt of something just like this all those lonely nights in lock-up. Whether it was the Wife of the Warden, or the beautiful young daughter of the prosecuting attorney that had put him there, Denny's mind, like most everyone else's, filled with images of turning the tables on those who'd exerted power over him. To actually have someone of Darlene Craft's style and substance on her knees, providing the most frantic blowjob of his life, tapped into something deeply fulfilling, and quite addictive in Denny's long tortured soul. And it wasn't long before Darlene got exactly what she'd bent down there begging for.

"GGGGRRRRAAHHHH...AAAHHHHH..AAAHHHH," Denny gritted his teeth and growled, his cock sawing in and out of Darlene's overwhelmed mouth as she hungrily swallowed his rushing batter.

His groans rising in pitch each time the underside of his prick grazed the tips of Darlene's pearly whites, Denny's pelvis worked like a paint mixer as he greedily emptied his balls down the gasping woman's throat.

Seeing the faint, but discernable twinkle of accomplishment in Darlene's glowing eyes, the two shared a long, knowing gaze as he pulled his meaty cock free from her semen smeared lips.

"I think we both got exactly what we wanted out of this," Denny's eyes seemed to suggest as he glided his thumb down Darlene's left cheekbone to scoop the remaining streaks of ejaculate from her chin.

"We will be when you put that Bitch in her place," Darlene reminded Denny about Angie before extending her tongue to cleanse the left over jizz from the younger man's slick fingers.

"Oh don't worry, Mrs. Craft, just keep your eyes on the local paper over the next few weeks..you might see a familiar face on the front page," Denny winked as he looked down at her ingesting the last few dabs of his freshly churned seed.

Part 3 coming soon 



Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 03



Leaving the Loughlin office that afternoon, Darlene Craft felt as if she'd just had an out of body experience. If it wasn't for the taste of Denny's lust still fresh on her palate, she may have been able to convince herself it all was an all too vivid daydream as she walked to her car.

Avoiding anymore eye contact than she had to as she made her way through the parking lot, praying she wouldn't give away any telltale signs of what had just happened, Darlene wondered what those glares might be like if Denny leaked the secret.

"It would spread to the church too with its affiliation here..then through the neighborhood too," Darlene thought with dread, only now taking into account the powder keg she was truly toying with.

Stepping into her car, Darlene had to stifle an audible gasp when she stretched her thighs apart.

"Oh God, I'm out of shape," she cringed, knowing that part of her body had gone quite awhile without that much stimulation.

Darlene couldn't avoid feeling the level of wetness remaining down their either.

"He did all that with his bare hand..without even truly touching you,' she reminded herself as she reached for the ignition.

Impulsively lowering her right hand down to her crotch while she warmed the engine, Darlene jumped a little in the seat when she felt how swollen and sensitive she still was down there. Despite all the horrors potentially awaiting her if the shit did hit the fan, the one thing she knew was that she had to see Denny again, if for no other reason she had to get him the $1,000 he needed to take care of the "Angie situation".

Never one to let her conscience complicate things, Darlene kept her hand buried between her thighs during the entire trip home (thank God she decided to get tinted windows with her current BMW), for the first time of her life bringing herself off to a series of small orgasms behind the wheel as she made her way across town.

Fixing dinner that night as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened just hours earlier, Darlene made small talk about the trivialities of the day with her Husband and Daughters at the table. She even initiated sex with Curt later that evening, a supreme rarity, one that ended quite well for both parties even though her Husband wasn't anywhere to be found behind her curtain of her closed eyelids.

______________________

Darlene took the thousand dollars to pay Denny out of her own personal little slush fund, the one she kept in case either something went squirrely with her marriage, or if she came across anything she wanted that didn't exactly fit into the family's finances. Considering the size of the war chest she'd built up over the years, the small price she was paying Denny to do such a giant deed seemed like a bargain.

Tucking the money into her purse the next day she was scheduled to work at Loughlin, Darlene walked through the front doors with the same apprehension a high school girl might the Monday after banging half the football team over the weekend. 

Meeting eyes, first with the secretary in the office and then with the house's director, there wasn't a hint of anything out of the ordinary in their smiles or gazes. The next hurdle, the one Darlene considered the greatest, was any interaction she had with the Loughlin's tenants. Thankfully that had gone smoothly as well. Even though Gary, and some of the more friendly inhabitants, flirted openly with her, there was no hint they knew anything had happened between her and Denny. It was a very positive sign that at least she could trust him with a secret.

Finally able to steal away with Denny to a secluded back room of the house later that day, Darlene gave him the envelope with the cash.

"I should know something by the end of the week?" Darlene asked with nervous impatience.

"Or two at the most," Denny assured, taking the business envelope and shoving it into his shirt.

"He didn't even say anything about the other day," Darlene rolled her tongue sourly through her mouth, seeing the twinkle of carnal knowledge in Denny's emotionless eyes but hating him for not so much as addressing their interlude.

An overwhelming urge to sink to her knees in that dark, dusty room to do exactly what she did to Denny the last time they were together filled Darlene, but she caught herself before giving him the satisfaction of seeing just how much he'd affected her.

"Keep me up to date..OK," was all she could say before turning around to leave separately from him.

"No problem," he replied, sensing (with a great deal of arrogant pride) the confused and lustful want brimming from the married woman's pores.

______________________________

Having agreed to Darlene's onerous task, Denny was left to piece together how to actually pull it off. Taking the money from her pretty much sealed the endeavor's fate, whatever that fate wound up being. 

Knowing he could slip away from Loughlin, and his P.O., for a couple of days under the ruse of going out of town on a job search, Denny also knew of a safe and well heeled avenue to purchase the 'supplies' he needed for his trip to Boulder. The only thing left to do was figuring out what to do with all of it once he got there.

The entire time he was formulating his plan, Denny kept going back to the pictures Darlene had shown him of the girl in question. Considering the hatred and deep seeded contempt in Darlene's voice while discussing the girl, there must have been some sort of ax to grind against her that dated back long before she caught Angie fooling around with her Husband.

Denny did his best to put all those things out of his mind because it was much easier to do something horrible to someone if you didn't humanize them. The sliver of conscience he had left however continued to badger him, almost like a hangnail throbbing each time used that finger. Keeping that mental image of Angie Burton's smiling face fresh in his brain caused something else to throb with possibility as well, and it was much more substantial than a hangnail.

Angie's college address had been easy to find. Once he found the place, it simply became a matter of patience. Finding a secluded spot to sit and wait in the apartment complex's sprawling lot, the closer it got to dusk on the early October afternoon, the more Denny wished he'd brought a coat.

Seeing Angie pull up a little after four in the same sporty, midnight blue Jetta Darlene had described, Denny recognized her immediately even though she was dressed in sweats and flip-flops instead of the glamorous, pageant garb she wore in the pictures he'd seen on the internet. The one thing he immediately noticed as she strolled, completely oblivious to his presence, was the air and aura of a girl who stood out from the pack no matter what she was wearing.

Watching Angie disappear up the steps and into her second floor apartment, Denny tapped the duffel bag resting on the passenger seat. 

"We could do this right now..might be safer after dark..but we could do it as soon as the sun goes down, make the phone call and head back home," the calculating criminal inside his head offered.

Still toying with the exact moment to lay his trap with the product he'd purchased the night before, Denny watched as two girls pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later. His plan to leave Boulder quickly changed when he watched the two very attractive young ladies exit their car and head up to the steps before disappearing into Angie's room as well.

Shifting his weight in the seat, Denny realized it might be a long night.

If Denny had still been on the fence about how to proceed for the evening, his decision to stick around Boulder was cemented, at least for a few more hours, when he saw those three girls emerge from the apartment dressed in their freakiest nightclub ware. Stuffing the payload he'd brought beneath the passenger seat, Denny started the pick-up he'd borrowed from a cousin and followed Angie and her friends out of the parking lot, towards the University's party bar strip.

___________________________

Finding an out of the way space in the parking garage facing the first club the girls made their way into, Denny spent a little over an hour mulling the scenery and his options, keeping an ever present eye out for a cop or security guard that might come snooping around to see why a guy was just sitting behind the wheel of a parked car. Perking up in his seat when he saw the girls finally exit the bar, Denny raised his hand to the ignition as a group of college frat types followed Angie and her friends out. Seeing the horde disappear into the establishment next door, Denny lowered his hand back down to his lap and continued to wait.

Sensing the girl's agenda most likely entailed going from one bar to another until either closing time, or something more fun came along, Denny knew they'd be out of his vantage point if and when they moved on from the place they'd just went in to. Casting a somewhat worrisome glance over to the package beneath the seat beside him, Denny sighed as he reached for the keys before hopping out the truck.

Having made the prophetic decision to at least dress like he planned on blending in with a college crowd, even at 29 with his baseball cap on backwards, the years worth of toll showed clearly on Denny Pinson's scruffy face.

"Don't worry..its dark in there and most everyone will be way too drunk and self absorbed to notice..besides..you wont need to be in there for long," he told himself as he walked past Angie's parked Jetta. 

"Bet she doesn't bother to even lock her doors," Denny thought merrily.

The first thing to cross Denny's mind when he walked inside was he could probably triple the value of the stuff he'd stashed back in his truck if he sold it instead of using it for what he'd originally purchased it for. Almost turning to go do just that, he stopped cold in his tracks when he spotted Angie and her friends at the bar, surrounded by an impressive flock of guys.

There was certainly enough other scenery to admire in the joint as the bone-jarring bass thud of music he was about a generation too old to appreciate pounded in his ears. Keeping his eyes on the prize, as it was, Denny slowly meandered through the crowd until he'd set up camp and ordered a beer less than 10 feet from where Angie was holding court, much the same way a queen bee would inside her hive.

Sitting there long enough for the beers to take effect, Denny tried, and for the most part succeeded in blending in with the younger crowd. The fact that Angie, along with a handful of other girls, periodically made their way up to the dance floor and ruthlessly shook what their Mommas had given them allowed a wallflower like Denny to blend seamlessly into the background.

As much as Momma Burton may have loved and prized her young Daughter, even she would have been mortified at the contortions and joviality Angie showed as she frolicked with the girls and boys under the strobe lights on the sweat soaked dance floor. Between the quick shots of Angie's thong as she grinded her mini-skirt clad rear end against the mass of humanity surrounding her, Denny had graduated from beer to tequila shots.

Getting a clear sense that there probably wasn't a guy in the room worthy of taking Miss Burton home that night no matter how drunk she got, Denny steadily watched the boys slide away as the evening wore on in pursuit of some easier prey. The more the tequila started talking, the more he thought about trying to corral one of the remaining inebriated college hotties himself. Able to listen to snippets of Angie's conversation as the crowd surrounding her gradually thinned out, his ears perked up when he heard her tell someone she couldn't stay until closing time because she had a test the following morning before then having to go to her volunteer job helping coach one of the local middle school's volleyball team. 

His drunken eyes shimmering like twin rubies upon hearing that new information, Denny prepared to pay his tab and drag himself back to his pick-up before he was too far gone to drive. Once again however, fate and testosterone-fueled opportunity intervened.

There had easily been a dozen or more guys smoothing up to Angie over the course of the evening, trying in vain to woo her away all for themselves, but she'd summarily dispatched most of them with a friendly 'thanks but no thanks' smile, even a few times adding a peck on the cheek.

Most of the guys took the hint and moved on to more manageable goals, but there were a few die-hards who kept coming back, either in hopes that they suddenly got better looking over the course of a half hour, or Angie got drunk enough that she didn't care. Neither obviously happened.

Men's ability to handle rejection come in about as many colors as the deluxe sized boxes of Crayola crayons. Some take it with a grain of salt after giving it the old college try and move on. Other take it a little more personal but swallow their pride long enough to handle it with dignity in hopes that maybe one day down the road the outcome might be different. Then there the guys who viscerally can't handle having anyone tell them, 'no', especially in front of a bunch of their buddies.

In a group of drunken, young men that large, with a prize as desirable as Angie on the line, nature dictated there had to be at least one guy who fell into that latter category. Sadly for him that evening, his face found a brief but lasting home at the end of Denny Pinson's fist.

The fact that Angie hadn't wheeled around and cold-cocked the tall and lanky blonde haired guy who was making his 4th or 5th attempt to pick her up spoke to either some prior relationship with him, or an ungodly amount of poise and patience she'd learned on the pageant circuit. Denny sensed the guy could pretty much have the pick of the litter of 90% of the girls in the room, but for whatever reason he had his tunnel vision trained straight on Little Miss Teen Beauty Queen.

Sneaking the occasional peek over his shoulder to gauge the ever changing expression on Angie's reddening face, what had started out as mild annoyance had bubbled up to frustration, and was now bordering on outright anger.

It was a shame none of the other guys with blondie had the balls to step up and interject himself into the slowly deteriorating situation, but it was clear he was the alpha dog of the group and none of them really needed the hassle. Denny, on the other hand, had been in places with real alpha dogs, ones that would make any of the spoiled, rich brats roaming that college bar want to tuck tail and run long before the first word was spoken.

It was shame really. Considering the state of things, if one of those other guys would step up to intervene, he would surely score some brownie points with Angie. 

Taking one last shot of tequila as things devolved beside him, Denny felt the vocal vibration of Angie's final 'no and get the Hell away from me' before everything turned to slow motion.

While it wasn't exactly a dissociative, fugue state Denny drifted into during those moments of unplanned action, it was enough of a departure from the tethers of rational thought allowing his unbridaled instincts to take over. Before the screech of Angie's voice or the image of her spinning around to smack the guy's hand off her shoulder even registered in Denny's brain, he'd already leapt from his barstool and took two ghostly quick steps to his left. 

Angie's palm had just collided with the guy's clenched hand at the exact same moment Denny's balled up fist landed square on top of blondie's suddenly flattened nose.

"Flush," the former convict congratulated himself before he'd even finished his follow-thru.

Like a bunch of gnats flying to a just switched on street lamp, all the bouncers in the bar that had shown no interest in the ordeal Angie was dealing with from blondie's unwanted advances suddenly swarmed over to the spot where the young student was sprawled at the foot of the bar, blood spurting up from his shattered nose like a certain oil well in the Gulf.

Having been in that position several times after delivering a swift and decisive blow, Denny could feel the powers that be cautiously closing in around him. Instead of the guards he dealt with in jail however, Denny had to keep from laughing out loud as the jobronies with 'security' written across the chest of their size too small black tee-shirts descended on the scene.

Denny looked just like a pitcher who'd delivered another third strike as he stood up over his fallen adversary. Whether it was the prison tattoos that were clearly visible on his still flexing forearm, or the animalistic gleam in his heartless eyes, or if the was simple fact that everyone in the room knew blondie had it coming, but not a single person made a move towards Denny as he turned and casually made his way to the spot where he'd just been drinking. 

The glut of bodies gawking in the room had seemingly parted like the Red Sea allowing Denny free access to leave if he was so inclined.

He wasn't.

Reaching into his pocket and peeling off a $50 bill to take care of his tab for the night, Denny also grabbed the bar rag sitting there and tossed it to one of blondie's buddies to help with the berry red flow gushing from his schnowse.

Casting a knowing gaze in Angie's direction, the look of shock and awe was still etched like glittery clay across the young girl's vacant face. The longer he looked he thought he could also see a bit of appreciation through her drunken disbelief, but just before Denny turned broke his stare, he couldn't help but catch the faintest shimmer from something buried deep in the pit of Angela Burton's Freudian Id.

Meeting a couple of quick and knowing glances with a handful of the still watchful bouncers, Denny could tell he wasn't going to get any trouble from them as the crowd gradually scattered and returned to their night of drinking and dancing.

"Gotta take a piss before I leave," Denny ultimately decided.

Keeping his stoic, stone faced glare as he walked past several patrons who comically stepped back after witnessing what he'd done to the annoying prick at the bar a few minutes earlier, Denny disappeared into the club's restroom.

Calling the men's room 'confined' would be kind. There were two urinals, a toilet and a sink all crowded into the space of a modest walk-in closet, and from Denny's best estimate, only half of the light bulbs in there still worked. Given the accommodations he'd spent the better part of his 20s residing however, he didn't give the Spartan environment a second thought.

He heard the door open behind him once in mid piss just a few seconds after he'd taken a spot at the urinal on the far right. There was a faint but perceptible gulp, then the sound of the person behind him quickly shuffling back out, apparently not wanting to share the bathroom once he saw who was already in there.

Finishing up, Denny was about to reach for the flush handle when the creak of the door opening again roused his attention. The numbing thud of the music from outside seeping into the bathroom, this time the person who'd walked in allowed the door to close while they continued to stand there.

Stuffing his cock back inside his pants after casually shaking the last few drops off, a gnawing sense that one of the guys from outside had made the very poor decision to try and come into the restroom to gain some sort of retribution for their fallen friend.

"This really aint a good idea," Denny said without turning around as zipped his jeans back up.

"Why not?" came the reply from behind, in the distinctive tone a woman.

Denny knew who it was before he even bothered to turn around. Having to stop himself from saying "Hello Angie", and giving away the fact that he already knew who she was, he simply spun to his left and gave the girl a friendly smile.




Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 03



"I do believe you've walked into the wrong restroom, Young Lady," he coyly grinned.

"No..I'm right where I want to be," she wasted no time replying.

Denny thought about asking her if anyone had seen her walk into the men's room by mistake, but quickly decided from what he'd seen of Angie so far that she wouldn't have cared if they did.

The rhythmic thud of the music drifting through the thin bathroom door was steadily drowned out by the blood now pounding through Denny's two heads. Never losing his air of calm however, he stood his ground waiting for Angie to make the decisive move.

"I didn't get a chance to thank you for what just happened out there," Angie folded her hands in front of her waist and sighed.

"You're welcome," Denny nodded back. "But you could have done that back out in the bar," he wryly (and knowingly) added.

The click of Angie's high heels on the dingy bathroom floor echoing through the enclosed space, Denny allowed his gaze to follow the 22 year old girl as she sashayed towards the toilet stall. Casting a quick look towards the unlocked bathroom door, Denny rolled his eyes and said, 'what the fuck', before following Angie into the stall.

________________________________

His hand tucked deep beneath Angie's tight, form fitting skirt, Denny slipped several of his fingers into the same pair of panties he'd caught glimpses of when Angie was grinding with her friends on the dance floor. 

His tongue rolling like a serpent's around hers, Denny pressed Angie's back hard against the inner wall of the stall as her soaking wet pussy responded gloriously to his scrubbing hand. 

Easing the fly of his jeans back down with his free hand, Denny worked his cock loose then guided those five fingers over Angie's well proportioned chest before closing them around the back of her head.

Tilting the girl's head back, Denny proceeded to kiss Angie savagely on the left side of her neck.

A grating, "YYEEEZZZZ..AAAHHHH" shrieked from Angie's lips as she crumpled hard against her aggressor's chest. 

For the first time in Angela Burton's life, she couldn't help but feel she wasn't in control with a man, and the feeling was intoxicatingly liberating. Hearing the ferocity of Angie's response combined with the way she dug her fingernails into his shoulders prodded Denny to bite even harder.

His dick freed, Denny wasted no time nudging the more than eager girl down to her knees.

"Little Miss Beauty Queen is down there sucking my dick..FUCK," Denny sneered with internal disbelief as he watched Angie's lips expand then envelope his jutting girth.. "I was in jail two months ago and now I'm getting a blowjob from Miss Fuckin' Teen Colorado!"

Any thought to Darlene Craft's plot nearly drifted from Denny's mind as he stood there in front of the toilet, his feet stretched out to each side of the college girl's kneeling frame.

"Boys back at the house would never believe this anyway," Denny knew, wishing like Hell he could share the details of such a carnal conquest, but knowing the mere mention of being in Boulder may come back to bite him if things went south.

Pulling the young girl's bangs back so he could get an unfettered look deep into her willing eyes as she devoured his ample shaft, Denny planted both his hands on the top of Angie's head and forcefully began thrusting his hips forward. Angie never once flinched or choked as she deep throated Denny's prick, her well practiced technique, tried and true. 

A minute or so after Angie had dropped to her knees, the bathroom door swung open and some poor, unaware bar patron stumbled in to do his business. Taking a whiz in the urinal directly beside the inhabited stall, the drunken man could hear the shifting sounds coming from inside. Curiosity getting the better of him, once he'd finished peeing, he cautiously tiptoed over to the closed door of the stall and peeked through the crack.

One look at Denny's sadistic glare peering back sent the young man scurrying on his way.

Denny could have just stood there allowing Angie to milk the lust from his churning balls, but like most guys with the greedy heart of a criminal, he always wanted more. Ruthlessly stabbing the length of his cock down Angela Burton's throat, loving the look of submission etched across her make-up smeared face as she 'thanked' him for his good deed, just before he passed the point of no return, Denny reached down and jerked his dick free from the velvet grip of her lips.

"Stand up," he looked down and told her. "I knew from the second I walked in here tonight, I wasn't leaving until I fucked the shit out of you!"

__________________________

The gold colored thong she'd worn that night dangling like flotsam off her right ankle, the world seemed to be spinning sideways for Angie. Her bare legs wrapped tight around the stranger's back, the nubile young college girl angrily bounced her sopping pussy up and down on Denny's raised and rigid staff.

She'd walked into the men's room with the sole purpose of showing her appreciation for the good deed the man at the bar had done by summarily dealing with the guy who'd been stalking her all night. What had happened once that original plan was set into motion however quickly spiraled out of Angie's control. 

Now she found herself suspended in mid air, the seeping residue of her arousal dotting the floor below as she savagely humped her crotch against the nameless man's prick. From the horrible words he was hissing into her ear, Angie sensed the man had probably just been released from prison, perhaps. None of that mattered in that one blinding and aching moment when he drove her to orgasm in that cramped bathroom stall.

The screams of release burning from Angie's throat only spurred on Denny's vicious assault. The men Angie had been with over the years basically fell into two groups. They were either so in awe of her beauty and reputation that they were almost afraid to touch her, as if making love to a porcelain goddess. Then there were the guys who loved the idea that they were hooking up with a beauty queen and were determined to leave a lasting impression. Those guys were generally so sloppy and shoddy that it just turned into one big mess.

The rare times Angie seemed to get what she wanted from an encounter was when she took the lead. She'd discovered over the years what got her off, and if the guy followed suit, then so be it. That was pretty much the gist of her rendezvous with Darlene Craft's Husband, Curt. What was happening to her in that bathroom stall however was on a completely different plane.

The fact that she was wailing like a bawling child in his arms did nothing to slow Denny's march towards his own glorious end. They'd used no protection, Angie wasn't on any sort of birth control, yet the more Denny's cock felt like a grenade preparing to explode inside her, the more urgently she slammed her cunt down on top of it. The same primal instinct Denny had shown when he punched the guy out in the bar he was now unleashing inside Angie, and she was prepared to ride the tornadic rush until he was done.

The concussion of Denny's release amplified from each one of his screaming pores. Both his hands cinched roughly into the flesh of Angie's behind, Denny struggled to maintain a grip from the copious amounts of vaginal sheen spritzing from her swollen slit. Fucking the young girl's pussy with a lifetime's worth of built-up rage, lust and aggression, Denny's cum spewed like a scalding paste from his loins until it overflowed from Angie and dripped to the floor like milky dew from her impaled pussy.

_____________________________

The post-coital de-briefing, such as it was, didn't last more than a few seconds. For a couple deep breaths, the endorphins rushing through Denny's head led him to the doorstep of scrapping Darlene Craft's plan, and just letting Angela Burton be. Even though barely a word was spoken between the two, it was clear from the sound of exhaustion in each of their gasps, not to mention the runaway slot machine quality to their eyeballs that Denny and Angie had both just given the other the best sex of their lives.

Like a temporarily infatuated schoolboy, Denny nearly asked Angie for her phone number, but stopped himself just in time when he saw the clear look of disengagement in the young girl's face.

Watching as Angie situated her panties so she could step back in them, a visible grin crept out the corners of Denny's lips. Waiting until she pulled them all the way up and tucked them under her waded up miniskirt, Denny could sort of relate considering the number of girls he'd been with over the years and left after getting what he wanted. Casting sort of a 'touché' nod in her direction, Denny knew full well part of him was now swimming deep in Angie's womb at that very moment, even if she was too much of a snob to acknowledge it.

Standing with his arms folded against the frame of the bathroom stall, Denny watched Angie primp at her clothes as she checked herself in the cracked mirror hanging over the sink.

"Not quite what you'd expect for a wanna-be Miss America..checking her clothes for cum stains in a seedy bathroom mirror," Denny thought whimsically to himself when she turned and left the men's room with the same stealth as she'd entered.

He'd learned a lot that night just by simply listening. Exiting the rest room soon after Angie, while she returned to the party as if nothing had happened, Denny disappeared into the night. He had one errand left before the long drive home.

________________________________

Denny Pinson wasn't exactly proud of what he'd done to Angie Burton, but at least he'd kept his word. While it had been tempting in the throws of passion to go back on the deal he'd made with Darlene, the potentials she could offer were something a man with his current lot in life just couldn't ignore. The contacts with her Husband's contracting business would prove invaluable if he wanted to develop a legitimate financial foothold for his future. More to the point however, the knowledge of what he'd conspired with Darlene to do would be something her could perpetually hold in reserve if he ever needed something from her in a pinch.

More than anything, Denny took pride in a job well done. A feat you couldn't put a price tag on if you measured Darlene Craft's reaction a few days later when she went out on her front porch and gathered up the morning paper.

"LOCAL GIRL ARRESTED ON FELONY DISTRIBUTION CHARGES," read the massive front page headline.

Her hands trembling, Darlene sat out on the front step in her housecoat, oblivious to the early morning, 7am chill as she read with delicious interest every word that followed.

It seemed the esteemed Ms. Burton had been arrested at the middle school where she volunteered, helping coach a local girl's volleyball team. The police, acting on an anonymous tip from a concerned parent, had found a large quantity of marijuana in her car, along with a stash of ecstasy pills. She was currently being held as she waited for her bond hearing in the Boulder city jail. The article made mention that the charges could add up to 20 or more years especially when the arrest took place on public school grounds was taken into account.

Skimming through the article at least a half dozen times before she stood up to go back inside, Darlene kept coming back to the two photos splashed across the front page accompanying the headline. The one on the right was the moment four years earlier when Angela Burton, with tiara on her head, accepted a bouquet of flowers for winning the local Miss Colorado Springs pageant. The second picture was Angie's mugshot, and it featured none of the poise and grace that had helped her nearly become Miss Colorado that fateful Summer four years earlier.

An insatiable urge to scream 'halleluiah' at the top of her lungs filled Darlene Craft. She even found herself checking her datebook to figure out when her next appointment at the beauty parlor was. 

"God, the gossip is going to be priceless," she told herself, dropping the paper flat on the kitchen table just to make sure her Husband Curt saw it when he sat down for breakfast.

Still basking in her infinite joy, the sound of her phone ringing at such an early hour quickly snapped Darlene out of her state of euphoria. Staring a hole in her purse as the phone continued to ring inside it, a cold wave of dread washed all those that positive energy right out to sea. The number to the Loughlin House was brightly displayed on the caller ID... 

Part 4 to come... 



Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 04



"I thought we agreed..no phone calls," Darlene Craft whispered with bewilderment into her cell phone's receiver.

"I know," the somewhat sleepy but satisfied voice of Denny Pinson rose from the other end. 

"Just wanted to see if you saw the morning paper yet..horrible to see the types of things our youth are involved in," he added wryly.

"Yes..I saw it," Darlene relented somewhat, the clear joy in her soul difficult to mask despite the unexpectedness of the call.

"I'll see you in a few days..next time you show up here at Loughlin..right?" Denny asked, knowing he wasn't really giving Darlene any choice in the matter.

"Yes," she replied. "I've got to go."

"Good morning, Danielle," Darlene said to her middle Daughter, who was making her way down the hall towards the kitchen.

Stuffing her cell phone deep down inside her purse, Darlene took several quick breaths to collect herself.

"Oatmeal again?" Danielle groused when she saw what was on the table.

"Either that or eating breakfast at school with all the riff-raff," Darlene quickly transformed into 'Motherly Bitch' mode.

A few seconds later Curt Craft came marching down the hall, still tying his tie as he kissed his Daughter on the top of the head. 

Carrying over a gallon of orange juice, Darlene kept one eye glued on her Husband as he sat down, just waiting for the moment he recognized the glaring picture on the front page of the paper laying by his oatmeal bowl.

Darlene practically had to keep from pouring the orange juice all over the table, not to mention her Husband's lap as she watched the expression on his face change when he recognized Angie's picture. Seeing that look transform through several different stages, from recognition, to rabid curiosity finally to mortal shock as he matched the photos to the article, Darlene literally had to take step back towards the kitchen to keep from cackling out loud.

"That's the Burton's oldest Daughter, Angela, isn't it?" Curt gasped, pushing the newspaper towards Danielle so she could read it too.

"Yeah..like you don't know who the Hell she is," Darlene bit her tongue and mumbled to herself. "The Bitch rode you like a rented mule on top of Old Man Carter's Mercedes a few weeks back."

"Drugs?" Curt re-read the first few paragraphs of the article several more times, trying to make some genuine sense of it all. "That family has plenty of money....she was almost Miss Colorado for God sakes..how could someone with so much to lose...?"

"Oh..you know what can happen when someone falls in with the wrong crowd...her parents must be devastated," Darlene turned and offered with real, heartfelt concern, at least audibly.

The remainder of breakfast basically consisted of Danielle and her Father passing the paper back and forth as they pretty much shunned Darlene's dreadful oatmeal. It was clear once the formalities were done however that Curt was anxious to get to work, and Danielle to school, so they could each tap into the neighborhood grapevine and get the lowdown on Angie Burton's arrest.

_____________________

The facts of Angie's case, and the extravagant embellishments over the nature of it quickly blurred. The one thing that did surprise even someone as cynical as Darlene was the level of schadenfreude that came from a lot of her friends over Angie's plight. In a sick way, Darlene felt heartened seeing the amount of satisfaction a lot of people took in the young girl's seeming downfall. She knew she wasn't the only one who'd been turned off by Angie and her accomplishments, but she'd caught the girl fucking her Husband. Darlene couldn't help but think maybe some of those other catty women in the community may have too.

Then there'd been the added touch for Denny to place the package so that the cops would catch Angie with it on school grounds. She couldn't wait to hear how the details of all that came about even though in the back of her mind she was still understandably reticent to know all the details in the off chance that all of this blew back on her.

For obvious reasons, it was clear the Burtons and their kids weren't keeping their same social calendar. Darlene would often drive by their house, and instead of the usual 2 or 3 cars there visiting, she hardly saw a single guest in their driveway after the news broke. For what its worth, Darlene did resist the urge to pull in and check on them herself.

With the wherewithal to afford the best defense money could buy, the case against Angie did have some holes. The fact that she left her car unlocked played in her favor considering how easy it would have been to sneak into the back seat to place the pills under the right rear floor mat and the bag of pot under the seat. There was also an absence of any fingerprints whatsoever on any of the packaging, which was very rare. 

Combine that with the altercation she'd had the night before the contraband was discovered with a guy at a bar who'd repeatedly tried coming on to her before he got his lights punched out by a nameless stranger. The guy who'd been pursuing her, as fate would have it, had two prior arrests while at C.U. for possession.

All that combined with Angie's spotless record and how poised and confident she would be at trial, and it was difficult imagining any jury finding unison in convicting her for such a horribly long sentence.

As much fun as it had all been for Darlene, the giddiness of it all started to wear off when those reports started to make their way into the paper. Still, the shocking nature of that first headline would stay with people, the bell had in essence been rung, and even if Angie would be cleared, in this digital age, the arrest would always be a stain on her legacy.

Now came time for Darlene to answer that tolling bell when her next day to volunteer at Loughlin turned over on the calendar. Knowing she'd have to come face to face with Denny for the first time since it all went down, Darlene didn't sleep a wink the night before.

___________________________

Having originally made the commitment to help with the Loughlin House's books a few days each month with the sole purpose of finding one of the paroled inmates there to do her bidding, with that hay now in the proverbial barn, being in that office was the last place Darlene wanted to be.

"If anyone in Boulder recognized Denny whenever he did what he did to Angie and they tie him back to this place, he wont waste a second bringing you down with him," her inner angst reminded, but she just had to see him.

Dutifully keeping one eye on the computer screen and the other on the door to the office, waiting nervously for Denny to finally poke his head in, it wasn't until the House's Director ducked out for lunch that Mr. Pinson made his appearance.

"Do you know everybody's schedule around here?" Darlene quipped.

"Actually...Yes," he plainly replied. 

"You strike me as someone who would as well," Denny added, bringing a touché smile for just an instant to Darlene Craft's painted lips.

The door to the office remaining open, it was clear to both that anyone could bound into the room at any moment, which caused the talk between them to remain very 'small' as Darlene pecked away on the spreadsheet in front of her.

Like a shark circling a mortally wounded tuna, Denny took his time pacing around the office, freely smelling the fear, uncertainty and yes, arousal rising from Darlene. Keeping one eye on the door as well, Denny knew he could walk over and close it just as he'd done a few weeks earlier during their first encounter. For the time being, he decided not to. Instead, he gradually eased up beside Darlene as she sat at her work bay and took a seat on the desk to the left of her computer.

"I'm sure you've already clipped that front page story out of the paper a few days ago and put it in your scrapbook," Denny gave a whispering smile, his voice so low no one else could have heard it other than Darlene, even if the room was occupied.

"I don't think we should be talking about that here," she rolled her tongue around her mouth several times before replying.

Another weighty moment of silence played out between the two before Darlene once again spoke up.

"I talked to my Husband the other day," Darlene began, not daring to make eye contact with Denny hovering above so he could see just how nervous she was.

The click of her fingernails on the keyboard rising intermittently through the room, she finally focused enough to continue.

"He's got a project going on up in Downtown Denver..they're about two or three weeks away from putting the wiring in he said..I mentioned there was someone down here at Loughlin that might be looking for work...he seemed like he had some interest."

Rubbing his left hand lazily up and down his thigh listening to Darlene, Denny allowed her offer to hang in the air without directly responding. He did after all make mention that it would be nice to get some work out of the arrangement for the favor he'd done. Given the gravity of the knowledge he now had over Darlene however, Denny wasn't about to take the wages of an honest day's work and just call it even.

"Everything you read in the paper, Mrs. Craft..did it meet your expectations?" Denny coyly pressed Darlene until he got a slight but perceptible glow of appreciation.

"That pretty girl never saw it coming..wonder how she's fairing at night in county lock-up?" Denny added, leaving the question open ended to allow Darlene a chance to stew in the result of what they'd done, just to make sure she was still comfortable in her skin.

Whether it was his imagination or not, it appeared Darlene began shrinking into some sort of invisible shell as he peered down at her.

"We've got that Burton girl taken care of," Denny continued. "Isn't it time to get some retribution on that Husband of yours for all this?"

Suddenly feeling as if a meat hook had been placed at the crook of her neck, Darlene froze in her seat as she absorbed the implication of Denny's last statement.

"Calm...down...," he soothingly sighed a few seconds later, enjoying the way he could almost pull Darlene's emotional strings just like a puppet's.

"I'm not talking about hurting the guy or getting him arrested or anything...I know you wouldn't be staying with him if it wasn't for all the money he brings home," Denny bluntly assessed. "I was thinking of something a little more subtle than what we did with Angie, but would hopefully have the same effect, at least in your own mind."

With no choice now but to sit back and listen, Darlene folded her hands across her lap and looked up as Denny spoke. By the time he was done, it felt as if a molten chamber of magma was churning beneath those same folded hands.

Sitting there as if he could stare straight through Darlene, Denny extended his left hand and tapped the tips of his index and middle fingers against her chin. Feeling the tremor roll down the woman's jaw on contact, Denny traced those fingers down Darlene's throat along with the gulp that followed. Gently brushing those same fingers across her chest a few seconds later, Denny tweaked both Darlene's nipples through her blouse until both created noticeable protrusions.

Casting a weary eye towards the still opened door to the office, Darlene knew anyone could walk by at any moment. She also knew Denny knew that as well. Still, he sat there with his back turned to the door, freely fondling her breasts.

"He's a fucking criminal," The frayed shreds of Darlene's common sense reminded. "He doesn't care...all of this is a game to him and if he gets caught, he knows you're getting caught with him. And he knows you have a lot more to lose than he does."

"So why are you just sitting here..why don't you get up..slap him..run away..something?" she asked herself.

Darlene hated the unspeakable answer her conscience provided.

Listening to Denny explicitly lay out the gist of his perverse brainstorm, Darlene tried every way she could think of to tell him what he was suggesting just wasn't possible. The pressure in the cramped corner of the office ratcheting up each time Darlene re-buffed Danny's overture, she could see the look of unbending intent in his eyes. The more forcefully she tried to say, "No way..No how,' the more Darlene felt her insides start to melt however.

Keeping her hands pressed down on her lap, as if that would somehow quell the burning itch of need simmering beneath them, the more Denny's cocksure presence caused the impending eruption to grow.

"Well if you don't want to try that idea..I do have another one," Denny leaned in even closer and bellowed, sounding more like a taunting executioner giving his subject their final options.

"I could just stand you up at this desk right now Mrs. Craft..I could pull your pants right down and push you down flat right here where I'm sitting...I could pull my dick out and fuck you right here on the table and you'd let me..I wouldn't even bother closing the door..anyone could walk in at any second and you wouldn't stop me," he communicated to the married woman with the same matter of factness as the guy on TV giving the weather report. 

An instant paralysis gripping Darlene as Denny's words sunk in, she knew everything he was saying was true. Blinded like a driver headed straight into a cloudless sunset, Darlene squinted her eyes and held her breath, as if her next move could be her last.

Still mired in the malaise of the moment, Darlene felt Denny's right hand close tight around her left arm before effortlessly pulling her up from her seat until she was face to face beside him. Wasting no time, Denny nudged Darlene's office chair away with his left foot.

"Somebody's gonna walk in Denny..this is crazy!" Darlene wanted to shout, but her lips were too dry to move.

"He can't really be seriously thinking about.....," Darlene's inner voice shouted incredulously until she realized he, in fact, was.

The door to the office still wide, and invitingly open, in the time it takes a hiccup to leave a human mouth Denny had unbuttoned Darlene's pants and yanked them, along with her bunched panties, half way down to her knees as she stood in front of him.

"UHHHHH," she gasped, but was simply too numb and awestruck to try covering herself.

Unable to focus on anything other than the canyon sized gulf of the office's open doorway, Darlene lost track of Denny as he stood up and disappeared like a vapor trail behind her.

"No..please..you can't," she managed to weakly cry, but with one fervent and steady hand placed on the center of her back, then one well focused push, Darlene found herself face down on her desk, just like he'd promised.

Cleaving his right hand between Darlene's thighs, Denny wasted no time cupping his palm upwards against the crevice of her sopping pussy.

"This doesn't feel like a woman who's saying, 'stop'," Denny mocked as he angled his gaze lower to see Darlene's pink and flared labia clinging like rose petals to his fingers. 

"Last chance to think about my suggestion Mrs. Craft...if not..I'm gonna fuck you right here for the whole world to see!" he continued to prod, stabbing his fingers through the swollen and soaked mess of Darlene's aching genitals with each pointed word. "How is it gonna look when a couple of the guys living upstairs make their way down here and happen to look in and see what a slut you are...or when the dick that runs this place gets back from lunch and sees me fucking you. He's gonna kick himself for leaving you here all alone with all us bad, bad men."

Her left cheek resting on the same pile of papers minutes earlier she'd been transferring into the computer, Darlene understood fully the implications of Denny's assessment. Feeling the cool air of the office brushing across the bare skin of her behind, even without looking back, she could also feel him positioning himself into just the right spot behind her.

Rolling her tongue through her mouth as she tried to gain some sort of mental foothold in the swiftly shifting sands below, Darlene finally relented and told Denny she'd try to work something out, to make what he was suggesting happen. All that was done with Denny's hand resting on the zipper of his fly, just waiting for the chance to rip it down and do exactly what he'd been threatening to do right there in the broad, noontime daylight.

It took less than a minute for Darlene to pull her pants back up, stuff her blouse back inside them and get them re-buttoned before resuming her position behind the desk. It was a damn good thing considering within a minute after doing all that, one of other residents at Loughlin came downstairs and walked by the front of the office on his way to use the payphone in the lobby. Typing indiscriminately at the keys of the computer, giving the appearance that she was focused solely on her work, Darlene did raise her eyes just enough to watch Denny excuse himself from the room.

Within five minutes of all that, the Director came back from his lunch break and took a seat at the larger desk to the right of Darlene's.

"Miss anything while I was gone...anyone call?" the crusty older man asked as he thumbed through several packets waiting in his incoming file basket.

"No...," Darlene replied dryly, without looking over. "Nothing at all."

_______________________________

Laying flat on her back, her body sprawled out on the same bed she'd slept in for 20 plus years, Darlene stared up at the blades of the ceiling fan rotating endlessly above her. Inhaling the familiar potpourri of cinnamon and vanilla wafting from the master bathroom 10 or so feet away, Darlene listened to the rhythmic strain of the mattress and box springs below. She'd had sex plenty of times in that bed, but never with man besides her Husband, until now.

Not that her Husband ever did anything to her on that marital bed compared to the ringer Denny was now putting her through. Her knees pushed up to each side of her head, Darlene's wails echoed through the empty house as she savagely ripped her fingernails across Denny's muscular back.

It was a little after 1 that Friday afternoon. Darlene's Husband Curt was at work, her two teenaged Daughters were safely shuffled off to school, and Darlene Craft was getting her brains fucked out by an Ex-con while the rest of the world spun obliviously on it's axis.

The entire bed rattling like a Cessna attempting to take off, Denny plowed Darlene's cunt with everything he had. Having got her off manually way back during their first bit of alone time inside the Loughlin office, now that Denny had connived his way inside her, in more ways than one, he fucked the married woman with a lifetime's worth of testosterone fueled rage and reckless abandon.

His hands wedged firmly along the insides of both Darlene's knees, Denny held her there in that uncompromising position creating a clear path to pound his groin straight into her's. His clothes strewn in a haphazard pile lining the floor of another man's bedroom, Denny perched himself on his knees, creating a violently efficient downward thrusting angle until the rigid spear of his manhood was drilling in and out of Darlene with blinding precision.

"OHMYGOD...OHMYGOD..OHMYGOD....OHHHMMYYGGOODDDD," Darlene grimaced over and over, allowing herself to go hurdling over the edge she'd long been skirting, knowing the house, for the time being, was all theirs.

Her chest pressed tightly against his as she submitted completely to Denny's will, Darlene looked up the best she could through her bouncing eyes and watched as he slid the grip of his hands off the insides of her knees and guided them over her calves until he'd locked them tight around her ankles.

Feeling him tug her legs all the way apart, it was more than her body at that moment that was open to him, but her very mind, spirit and soul. Wasting no time seizing the opportunity, Denny rotated his hips forward in slow, methodically driven strokes until it felt as if his cock had literally taken root inside her quivering womb. Unable to stop herself from adding her own hands to the frothing outer rim of her quim, Darlene pinched and tugged at her insanely aroused clit until she'd succumb to, not one but two brutal orgasms impaled on Denny's unforgiving dagger.




Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 04



The tenor of Darlene and Denny's arrangement seemed to shift between that first and second orgasm. Her ankles locked in the vice grip of Denny's hands as he held her legs all the way out to each side of his kneeling frame, Darlene had little choice but to look up at him as she spiraled back down from her initial release.

"Why hasn't he cum yet?" she found herself asking, expecting (hoping) to feel wave after wave of his soothing semen coat her inflamed vaginal walls.

Instead, Denny patiently continued to grind away steadily at her pussy as if keeping the pump primed until she was ready to go again.

In between those two orgasms, Darlene was filled with feelings both transcendent and dreadful. All around her were mementos of the life she'd built with her Husband. The exquisite crown molding lining the walls of the bedroom, the feel of the expensive, and now sweat soaked, silk sheets beneath her back, even the rows of family pictures dotting the landscape of the huge, sundrenched room. Even for someone as callous as Darlene, she couldn't help but feel the resignation that came with her adulterous actions.

Denny, on the other hand, cared about none of this as he knelt there perched at the center of her crotch, preparing like a heartless animal to strike with full force yet again. Perhaps that was what had so drawn Darlene to a man like that. He simply didn't care about anything else other than taking what he wanted, and it gratified something buried so deep inside Darlene's psyche that it utterly drowned out any feelings of remorse she may have had.

His rock-hard penis' claim still staked deep inside her moistened sex, Darlene watched as the naked man above slung her lower legs over both his shoulders just before he leaned straight down. Within the blink of an eye, he took both of Darlene's hands and forced them down tight on the pillows to each side of her head.

Pinned gloriously and helplessly beneath him, Darlene felt Denny start to ram his bulging cock back into her straining womb with full and unflinching force. Her hands intertwined in a death grip around Denny's, Darlene hurled her crotch off the mattress to meet her lover's assault with every ounce of energy she could muster as he chewed his lips hungrily against hers.

Cumming for a second time hadn't crossed Darlene's mind at that point. Content to just lay there allowing Denny to plow her until he busted his nut, the longer he continued to drill his cock forward, the more Darlene could feel the tide once again starting to swell inside her agitated loins. His pelvic bone crashing down on top of hers like a laser-guided jackhammer, from the jabbing angle of Denny's thrusts, she could feel the helmet shaped ridge of his sturdy prick drag across her G-spot each time he plunged forward.

Laying down one percussive thrust after another, Denny eventually reduced Darlene to a gibbering and jerking husk of humanity beneath him as she succumb to her second release in the matter of minutes. Through it all however, Denny somehow kept his seed in tact.

When he finally pulled back and allowed the slab of his still throbbing and angry manhood to slip free from Darlene's vaginal clutches, Denny's dick was saturated with her spent juices.

Closing her eyes and drifting away for several moments from complete exhaustion, when Darlene finally opened them back up, Denny was in the process of easing down beside her and flipping her onto her side.

"Is your Husband still at work?" he asked dryly, as if he was already certain of the answer.

"Yeah....," Darlene gasped, still a little short of breath. "He won't be home until 5 or 6..the kids are usually home by 4."

"We should be done by then," Denny replied, more to himself than anyone, as he went about positioning Darlene the way he wanted her, never actually specifying what 'being done' would entail.

___________________________________

Having already compromised her marriage vows with Denny, not to mention her very soul in hatching the plot against Angie Burton with him, what was to stop Darlene from giving everything she had to young Mr. Pinson. Committing the most unholiest of gestures by inviting him onto her marital bed, there really wasn't much left from the tree of sin for Denny to take from her. For his part, he found at least one.

His cock still rising at full attention as he rested on the strewn sheets of the Craft's bed, Denny suspended Darlene's rear end directly above his groin, preparing to take the married woman's anal virginity smack dab in the middle of her very own home. 

Even with her back turned to Denny, from the energy coursing through his hands and the unique way he was holding her, Darlene sensed clearly what was about to happen. Lurching when his index and middle fingers greedily slide deep into her still sizzling vaginal sheath, Darlene felt him swirl them around like two large coffee stirrers until they were drenched for the job that awaited.

Within a few seconds, Denny had pulled those digits free from her cunt and guided the tips of each right up to the puckered, rubbery rim of her anus.

His face less than a foot from Darlene's rear end, Denny had a front row seat to see the nail of his middle finger disappear inside the woman's tight anal ring.

"Uhhh..Uhhhhh..Uhhhhh," he could hear Darlene wince, her hands gripping roughly at his knees as she straddled his waist.

"Never had a man back here, have you?" Denny sniped.

"...No...," her voice trailed away as she rotated her hips in expectation of what was coming.

While the 'No' she gave Denny was true, Darlene had dabbled somewhat with several of her toys back there on occasion, usually to very positive results. With the increasing intimacy gulf with her Husband over the years and no real appetite for something that risqué in her younger years, suddenly Darlene found herself confronted with a man she was desperate to give that symbolic trophy to.

The hands gripping Denny's legs intensified into a full blown, duel choke hold around his calves when Denny added his index finger to the already submerged middle one inside Darlene's rectum.

Rocking her hips backwards, as if to show Denny she could handle anything he could throw at her, deep down Darlene bit her lower lips and said a quick, private prayer to a God she hadn't been on good terms with for quite awhile that she could endure what was about to happen. If two of his fingers were causing that much gasoline to flame through her veins, Darlene visibly gulped when she contemplated Denny replacing them with his ultra aroused cock.

Those prayers would grow infinitely more intense as the afternoon wore on.

Keeping those same two sticky digits buried in Darlene's backside for several minutes, gouging and spinning them in slow circles as he prepared her for his ultimate onslaught, Denny was heartened when he felt Darlene close her hand around his jutting prick, massaging it in her closed fist as she shuddered in anticipation on top of him.

Playing a hunch, Denny reached his free hand over to Darlene's bed stand and opened the drawer. Piddling blindly through the tangle of junk in there, a wicked smile sprouted on his face when he latched on to what he was looking for.

"Looks a little dusty," he mocked Darlene before handing her up the hardly used bottle of sexual lubricant that had been hidden in the drawer.

Taking the plastic bottle as she teetered on top of him, praising God for at least providing that one small favor, Darlene flipped the cap off and started coating Denny Pilson's imposing penis with the lube.

If Denny needed any convincing that Darlene was going to go through with such a carnally depraved act, feeling her coating his cock with the slippery and soothing, peppermint scented lubricant filled him to the brim with sadistic confidence. Pulling the corks of his two fingers from Darlene's ass, Denny quickly pushed her hips forward until his dick rose like a vertical sausage between her lily white buns.

Her feet outstretched to each side of his thighs, buckling as she tried supporting herself in such an awkward position, Denny lowered his left hand down to the base of his prick, aiming it at just the precise angle as he used his right to help Darlene steadily descend downward.

Grabbing the bottle of sex wax from the bed once Darlene's asshole was perched right on top of the turtleshell shaped head of his cock, Denny dabbed a few droplets on the point of friction before allowing Darlene to lower herself all the way down.

The low, rolling groan coming from Darlene, the one that eventually graduated to a full blown uninterrupted scream, wasn't at all unexpected for Denny, but it still gave him chills to hear as he watched the upper third of his cock disappear like magic into her steadily widening asshole. Keeping one hand on Darlene's waist to steady her, Denny used the other to brace the girth of his virile rod as the older woman winced with each successive centimeter of his manhood that found a home inside her.

"Keep going Mrs. Craft.......Keep... going," Denny calmly urged, goosebumps pimpling his flesh listening to the animalistic sounds belching from Darlene's throat.

Once he'd embedded over half of his bulging shaft, the ex-con slid his hands up to Darlene's thighs, helping her spread out until she could get a foothold on top of him. Feeling the muscles of her anal sphincter angrily squeeze at his invading presence, Denny softly traced all 10 of his fingertips from the top of Darlene's sweaty back all the way down to her flexing asscheeks, swirling them around to create the ultimate contrast of softness compared to the brutal bounty he was unleashing inisde her.

His cock now buried 2/3's deep, Denny waited for just the right moment to ram his groin forward.

"OOHHHHHHHGODDDDDDDD," the married woman immediately cried, her entire body careening forward until she was waylaid in a heap across Denny's lower torso.

See-sawing Darlene's rear end back and forth on his impaling staff until he'd eased into a punishing but consistent rhythm, Denny was able to gaze out across the Craft's bedroom and survey some of the landscape. Adding a few drops of lube as needed, he would plow forward every few seconds, each time bringing a feral gasp from Darlene's lungs as she willingly submitted to him.

Thinking his conquest couldn't be more complete, something out of the corner of Denny's eye suddenly caught his attention.

"You say your Husband's still at work..right Mrs. Craft?" he asked.

"...Yes....," Darlene strained but managed to reply. "You don't have to worry...,"

"Oh..I'm not worried," Denny caustically interrupted. "I just wanted to make sure we could reach him..you know..just in case something came up at home."

Reaching down to take Darlene by both sides of her waist, Denny pulled her slumped carcass backwards towards him, making sure to keep the slab of his penis wedged deep in her ass.

Allowing Darlene's back to come to rest on the top of his hairy chest, Denny then handed the married woman her own cell phone which he'd commandeered from the nightstand.

"Call him Mrs. Craft..call your Husband," came Denny's simple but supremely wicked demand.

Denny didn't even need to steal a peek in one of the many mirrors adorning the Craft's bedroom to see the look of unmitigated shock on Darlene's face when she heard his crude suggestion.

"I don't...really think..this is a good time," Darlene parsed her words as rocket flares of pain and pleasure exploded throughout her violated body.

"Oh...I can't think of a better time," Denny coyly replied, this time tenderly sliding the older woman's hair behind her right ear before kissing her squarely on the neck with a softness belying everything he'd done to that point.

"He's rubbed your nose in all the things he's done over the years...Hell..he wont even have a clue what's going on in the same spot he sleeps every night while he's on the phone...but you will," Denny told her, reaching around and giving Darlene's breasts a powerful squeeze just to drive his point home. 

His cock pulsing vividly inside her ass, for the moment, Darlene couldn't figure out which throbbed more, her plundered behind or her head as she tried to decide whether or not to place the call. 

The insanity of the already depraved situation multiplied exponentially when she gripped the tiny case of the phone in her hand and tapped out the quick dial option for her Husband's cell.

Immediately upon hearing the first ring, Darlene filled with dread wondering what she was going to say if, and when, he actually picked up.

"He's not there," Darlene wanted to beg out but Curt Craft answered before the third ring, leaving a silence as heavy as the world itself hanging over the room.

Discovering in a hurry just how hard it was to focus with a dick shoved up her ass, even something as trivial as asking "What do you want for dinner?" or "Could you bring some milk home?" were difficult concepts to verbalize given her current condition.

Hearing her Husband's voice answer and casually ask "Hey Honey..what's going on?" left Darlene dumbstruck for several anxious breaths.

"..I...ah..just wanted to see when you're coming home tonight..just to know when to put the casserole in the oven?" was all she could come up with, immediately hating herself for asking something that trite, not to mention committing to having to make a casserole after her ordeal with Denny was finally over. 

"If everything goes smoothly..probably around 7," Curt replied, somewhat taken aback by Darlene's sudden concern for anything 'domestic'.

"Are you sure you're OK?" Curt asked after another bout of eerie silence, his male intuition, if there was such a thing, telling him something may be amiss back at home.

"Yes," Darlene clenched her teeth and then sighed as normally as she could, quite a proposition considering Denny continued to roam his hands freely over her genitals and breasts as she tried to converse with her Husband.

Of all the ways she'd imagined getting back at her Husband for all his indiscretions, real or imagined, laying there in their bed with a stranger's rigid and heartless cock burrowed up her ass never crossed Darlene's mind. Having it actually happen, the liberation that followed was strangely intoxicating. With every ounce of mental energy she had in reserve, Darlene thought back to the various affairs she was sure Curt had committed, focusing especially on the one she witnessed for herself when he fucked Angie Burton on the hood of that car. It wasn't just the adultery in that case, but the callous nature of who he'd chosen to commit it with.

Allowing all that to cloud her mind, it made ignoring his pleasant and caring tone on the phone that much easier. Darlene knew what a monster he could be, and this was her way of demonizing him to the point where she could pull of something so obscenely apt.

The fingers of her right hand locked around Denny's as they jointly raked through her ripe and frothing pussy, Darlene began to buck on top of her lover below as she desperately tried holding on to the phone with her left, in the process forcing even more of Denny's cock into her guts as she continued to make tortured small talk with her Husband.

From the tenor of Denny's grip, and the urgency of his heartbeat against

her back, it was clear he intended to try getting her off while she was still on the phone, perhaps even busting his own nut in her ass as well.

The people who say things devolve into slow motion during especially stressful events like a car wreck or a terrible fall never have dealt with what Darlene Craft was going through. If anything, her entire world was moving at the speed of light as she dealt with the myriad of internal and external sensations.

Considering all the concussions of stimuli ripping through her body and soul, it was a miracle how Darlene was able to carry on any semblance of a normal conversation with Husband under such dire and distracting circumstances.

Looking down the length of Darlene's body from his perch beneath her, Denny could see the married woman's heels flinch and dig at the sheets as he gouged his fingers into her overflowing, honey laded, vaginal rim, all this at the same time he ruthlessly proceeded with his anal assault below.

Using his free hand to periodically twist and tweak at both Darlene's heaving breasts, Denny could look up and see her facial features contort and constrict as she tried bottling up everything inside her. His mouth mere inches from the phone, Denny knew he could yell out at any moment and brag about what he was doing to the man's Wife, but he held back the urge, satisfied for the time being in pushing Darlene up to the very precipice of complete mental and physical exhaustion.

Working the rhythms of his anal thrusts until they were virtually in sync with the pace of his fingers swirling through Darlene's flooded cunt, Denny pinched his fingers around the swollen and inflamed pearl of her clitoris at just the magic moment causing her entire body to convulse, as if electrocuted, repeatedly on top of him. 

"That's one Hell of a way to have a dropped call," Denny thought to himself as he watched the phone bounce like a stone from Darlene's left hand, first flipping off her right breast, then tumbling like a Plink-O chip over her right arm until it came to rest on the bed beside them.

"Damn...," he said to himself when he looked down at the cell's blank screen. "She hung up just before she came."

The temptation to reach down and hit re-dial on Darlene's phone, just so her Husband could hear first hand the sounds of chaos playing out in his bedroom was tempting, but instead Denny just reached down and draped his arms over both her thighs and held Darlene in cruel purgatory as he unleashed his boiling lust deep into her bowels.

Groaning with the savagery of someone who didn't care who on that street heard him, Denny shot wad after wad of this thick semen into the darkest reaches of her anatomy, and for that matter, her soul as well. The bed creaking for mercy below, Denny slid his left arm up to Darlene's chest and used his right to force her legs all the way apart before turning her like a ragdoll onto her side. From there he delivered the final few blows before removing his tattered cock with a horrible plop from Darlene's freshly christened ass.

"..I.....have....never...," Darlene tried to gasp, but her vocal chords had given out just like every other muscle and nerve in her overwhelmed body.

Denny concurred, but the last thing he wanted to do was taint that perfectly debaucherous moment with anything but the shared heaviness and exasperation of their breathing. Instead, Denny simply rested himself down halfway on Darlene's back, stroking her hair as he kissed her gently on the shoulder blades, allowing every bit of the satisfaction billowing like steam from her pores to wash over him.

The strains of her brutal release continuing to buzz like an angry swarm of bees up her spine, Darlene Craft's brain was essentially pickled in euphoria as she nested in a feeling of complete vindication and control over all the things that had long stressed her.

The ultimate thorn in her side for years, Angela Burton, was free on bond as she awaiting trail on serious drug charges, her Husband was at work earning his ample paycheck, blissfully unaware that 20 miles away his Wife had just been fucked senseless in their very own bed. The order of the universe couldn't have been more perfect for Darlene.

Nothing that good ever lasts. Even as she laid there savoring the orgasmic aftershocks riddling her body, Angie Burton's lawyers were busy poking holes in the Boulder DA's case. Her Husband Curt was in the midst of a 'closed door meeting' with his secretary just minutes after getting off the phone with her, and despite the glow that came with her devastatingly complete sexual gratification, Darlene at some point would realize that by taking a bite from the apple of temptation and greed, she had now lain down with the evil serpent.




Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 04



All those concerns would pale in comparison however to the fact that Darlene and Denny hadn't exactly been alone in the house for a good bit of their afternoon rendezvous. That supreme feeling of bliss that Darlene thought she'd found had, in the end, been built on quicksand...

Part 5 to come...



Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 05



Danielle Craft may have been a generation or two removed from truly understanding the "Jan Brady" reference, but being the 'middle child' between two very popular, very pretty and very accomplished sisters suited her analogy to a tee. Her older Sister, Kirsten was just finishing up her Senior year of college with a career already lined up and an entire wing of the Craft house dedicated to her many awards and commendations. Her younger Sister, Caitlyn, had always been the spoiled one. She was also her Mother's last hope to gain all the accolades that Darlene Craft herself never accomplished, creating an environment where Caitlyn got most of the added attention once it was a fait accompli that Danielle wasn't going to be shoehorned into that typecast her Mother expected.

"They don't care about your grasp of 'geometric theorems' during the evening gown competitions," Danielle remembered her Mother telling her once when she was around 13, in an effort to try pulling her way from her studies long enough to follow in Kirsten's footsteps on the pageant circuit.

Then came the 'don't play too much softball or volleyball' speech around the same time because it just wouldn't be looked at as 'lady-like' in the eyes of a wanna-be socialite like Darlene Craft. 

In truth, Danielle could have spent 24 hours a day from the genesis of her birth trying to be a beauty queen, but it wouldn't have made a difference. In the gene lottery, she'd drawn her looks from her Father's side of the family, and frankly, she'd been blessed with a healthy dose of introspection from her formative years and was utterly turned off by the superficiality of much of the world around her, especially at home. Naturally observant with a halfway decent intellectual grasp for a shy girl of 18, Danielle Craft had grown into a halfway dangerous fly on the proverbial wall.

In a lot of cases like Danielle's, the daughter tends to gravitate towards being a tom-boy or becoming much closer to her father, but she didn't even have that to fall back on. Whether Curt Craft was comfortable allowing his Wife to tend to their three kids so he could chase his career, and his own selfish diversions, or whether it was his own deep seeded disappointment that Darlene had never bore him a Son, but there was an unconscious but definite, and growing, disconnect between him and the rest of his family.

All that served as an invisible yoke around Danielle's neck, but luckily she'd been the one of the three that had the built-in backbone to handle it. Growing up in her upper middle class environment, she knew things could be much worse, but even though she never wanted for anything materially, trying to find her niche or anything to truly feel good about became a daily struggle for the 18 year old.

That's not to say that Danielle didn't have some dirt on the world.

The evidence, albeit subtle at first, was all around her. Even as a child, seeing the way the parents of her friends and neighbors interacted was different than the way her parents seemed to. Her Mother had become increasingly obsessed back then with Kirsten mainly, and all the primping and planning that went into her pageant success. It was clear as well that even though her Father was supportive of his Daughters' endeavors, he increasingly sought out ways to get as far away from the house, and all the drama within it, as possible.

As quick, and as hip, as kids are to things these days, once Danielle got old enough to see some of her friends' parents going through divorces, she started to notice many of the tell-tale signs in her own Mom and Dad as well. The extended business trips and the long nights at the office were almost cliché by then, but it seemed to work for the Crafts to live two separate lives under the shared veil of marriage.

Danielle had no qualms admitting to herself that her Father had strayed on her Mother, probably more times than she wanted to count. As absorbed as Darlene was about keeping up appearances and making constant public splashes, Danielle didn't think her Mom was of the mind to cheat, but as with most things in life, sometimes those assumptions do make an ass of you.

Such was the case that fateful afternoon when Danielle had returned home early from school with a tummy ache.

She could have probably made it through the rest of the school day if she'd tried, but Danielle knew it was the one day that week that the house would be empty so she could sneak home and just enjoy a couple hours of peace and quiet. She knew her Father wouldn't be home until late evening, her younger Sister would be in school until after 4 and this was the day her Mom as supposed to volunteer for some Godforsaken reason at that church mission across town.

Needless to say, when Danielle pulled up to the house and saw her Mother's car still in the driveway, her head began pounding more than her belly.

"DAMN," she muttered before smacking the steering wheel hard. Twice.

Knowing it would be stupid to turn around and head back to school, Danielle figured she could sneak in and disappear up to her room before Darlene Craft even knew her truant Daughter had locked herself in her room.

Before Danielle could set both feet into the house however, she froze hearing the shrill sounds coming from upstairs. It was clear even in that briefest of moments that her Mother was way past the point of distraction. Looking over her shoulder to make sure she didn't miss a stranger's car parked in the driveway, Danielle racked her suddenly overwhelmed brain, trying to discern just who it could be up there with her Mom. 

"Was it someone from the neighborhood or someone she'd met online? Was it one of her Father's friends..one of Danielle's?", were all questions that squealed like angry buzzards through Danielle's head as she tried unsuccessfully placing the voice moaning at the top of the steps.

Before she even realized it, Danielle's psyche grabbed a hold of her feet and dragged the young girl back outside, and back into her car.

If her belly hadn't already been unsettled, it definitely was now as she tried fending off the echoes remaining in her head from the snippets of sound she'd overheard in the house. Driving in circles through the neighborhood as she tried to regain her bearings, Danielle finally found herself at the park a few blocks from her house, sitting there under the late Autumn Sun, watching the leaves change at a way slower pace than apparently her own life was at that moment.

Being a school day, the area was barren for the most part, giving Danielle all the seclusion she needed to smoke a few cigarettes and assess the fallout of what she'd accidentally stumbled into. Listening to some music to settle her nerves as she de-compressed in her car beneath the shade of a huge weeping willow tree, around an hour or so after Danielle pulled into the lot, she saw her Mother's car slip down the main road, with the clear profile of a man in the passenger seat.

It didn't dawn on Danielle until much later the lunacy of tailing her Mom as she drove the stranger she'd just had sex with across town. Not really able to get a good look at the guy in the passenger seat from the three or four car buffer she tried to keep behind, Danielle sensed they were weaving through neighborhoods her Mother wouldn't normally venture otherwise.

Not really knowing what she'd do with the information if she discovered the identity of the man, Danielle felt like she was out more to satisfy her own morbid curiosity. After all, her Father had been having affairs for years, but to the best of Danielle's knowledge, he hadn't dared bring any of those women into the family home like her Mother obviously just had.

The young girl's adrenaline started to race and she nearly rear-ended the car in front of her when she saw her Mom stop on a dime and let the man with her out at a bus stop on the corner.

Danielle didn't know whether to feel relief or angst when she didn't recognize the guy getting out of her Mother's car. He certainly didn't look like any friend of the family, and even though he was significantly younger than Darlene, he was older than any of the boys she knew from the neighborhood.

Seeing a couple of tattoos adorning the gentleman's flesh as he stepped from the vehicle, Danielle prophetically laughed to herself thinking the guy looked like the type that may have done some time in prison.

Expecting the guy to wait for a bus considering the spot where her Mom had dropped him off, Danielle had to adjust her eyes when she saw him take off walking down the sidewalk in the same exact direction her Mother drove off in her car.

With the crush of traffic behind her, Danielle knew she couldn't just putter along following the guy on the sidewalk. Drifting past the man, doing her best to crane her head around to get a better look, Danielle simply couldn't picture someone as 'refined and gilded' as her Mom ever conversing with someone as rough as that gentleman looked, much less inviting him into her own bed.

Stealing another glimpse in the rear view as she drifted forward, Danielle eventually settled into a parking space two blocks up and waited to see if the man would continue towards her.

The entire world seemed to drift away for Danielle as the guy approached. It was almost like tracing the path of a ghost as he neared the car and silently shuffled by, paying her no attention as she sat like a leering pillar of salt behind the wheel of her car. The aura of gratification and conquest was clear to see however, almost shrouding the man as he glided one block further up the street and made the turn right.

Putting the transmission in gear and easing into the flow of traffic, when Danielle made the turn behind him, she immediately saw where Denny Pilson was headed. 

Seeing her Mother's Beemer parked in the lot with a sign reading "Loughlin House" out front, it only took a few seconds for the guy to bound up the steps and disappear through the front door. The cards were clearly laid out in Danielle's hand, but she was at an utter loss over how to play them.

______________________________________

A senior in high school, the clock was ticking on Danielle to get her college applications in order. While her grades were good enough to get her into most any school in the state, between her normal teenage procrastination and occasional detached ambivalence, Danielle had let more time slip by than she really should have. Knowing she could always just go to the local junior college for a year or two in a pinch, the faint bit of ambition she still possessed did yearn to head to a four year school.

Unable to really look her Mom in the eye after the secret discovery that afternoon at the house, Danielle much preferred getting her Dad's help getting her college mailings together. With him spending so much time away from home however, Danielle eventually had to bite the bullet and ask her Mother for help.

Catching Darlene balancing the checkbook one afternoon at the kitchen table, Danielle eased up to her Mother as calmly as she could with a packet of information for her to look over. Before she could so much as slide the papers from the packet however, Danielle's younger Sister, Caitlyn, came bounding down the stairs to steal her Mother's attention.

Within a few seconds, Caitlyn's news that she'd been accepted into the local Christmas pageant trumped the dry, monotonous duty of trudging through Danielle's college applications.

Disappearing into the woodwork as she'd grown accustomed to, Danielle re-treated upstairs and spent the next hour or so crying into her pillow.

"I should go to Dad and tell him everything I saw," Danielle decided between sniffles but quickly changed her mind when she realized the kettle of fish that would open.

Besides the way it would rip apart the family's veneer of tranquility, if Danielle was in fact going to go to college next Fall, the strain a potential divorce would put on everyone's finances might cripple those chances. Behind that soaking wet pillow case, Danielle's bubbling cauldron of dissonance would have to be vented in a much more subtle way.

_________________________________

It was a classic 'forest for the trees' scenario, but long before Danielle realized it, her family was beginning to spin apart. Her older sister Kirsten was on the verge of graduating college and moving on with her life while her Mom had shifted every last bit of energy and vicarious existence to her little Sister Caitlyn. With her Father off chasing his own liberal pursuits, Danielle was often left to her own devices.

For better or worse, Danielle had been constructed with a combustible mixture of ingredients. Blessed with quite an intellect for a kid her age, with the capability of deep rational thought, she was equally burdened with a lethal dose of teenage hormones, mercurial apathy and suburban angst. In one breath she could be cool, calculating and fully on task, then in one breath be transformed into a mish-mash of fear, insecurity and loathing.

If there was one thing missing in Danielle's life, it was for someone to appreciate her for who she was, not who they wanted her to be. While certainly not a unique refrain among today's youth, Danielle hadn't taken the tried and true route of throwing herself at any boy who would show her some 'appreciation'. Even though she had fudged about it on several occasions just so she wouldn't feel 'left out' , Danielle was in fact the only virgin in her entire, albeit small, circle of friends.

Each time Danielle found herself coming home with only her Mom's car in the driveway, she couldn't help holding her breath, waiting to hear the sounds of sex coming from the corridors of the house. Even during their increasingly rare sit down family dinners, Danielle would flick her fork through her potatoes wondering which parent had committed the most recent marital indiscretion. She'd even found herself driving by that halfway house where her Mom volunteered on occasion, on the rare chance she'd actually get another look of the guy who'd gotten out of Darlene's car that day weeks back. 

Even though she outwardly had no idea how she'd carry out her revenge, Danielle Craft's subconscious was feverishly at work. Having not been the pageant winning socialite her Mother had wanted, and not having the counterbalance of a dotting Father to fall back on, that primal part of Danielle's still developing brain searched for a way to even both scores in one fell swoop.

In the end, she used the one indisputable tool God had given her.

______________________________

Having taken that stray trip across town to drive by the Loughlin House a half dozen or so times since she caught her Mom with a guy living there, one afternoon the man in question was actually bounding down the steps leaving the place.

"Oh Shit," Danielle mumbled out loud, having not put all that much thought into what she'd do if she happened to see him again.

Part of Danielle wanted to run up and smack the guy for contributing to the growing chasm in her parent's marriage. Another part wanted to get as close as she could to the man, just to see what carnal hold a specimen like him would have over a snobbish, if not outright boorish woman like her Mother. Mostly, Danielle wanted to drive by and study him, to commit his profile and the ease of his gait to memory, to try and understand his silent but seemingly potent allure.

Even in those brief moments driving by, Danielle didn't truly grasp just how far she'd stuck her hand into the lion's cage.

Unlike most teens her age, Danielle Craft had never so much as had even a fender bender, much less running over a pedestrian. Both of them came within inches of happening however as she tried sizing up the man walking obliviously down the street. Forgetting there was a stoplight up at the next block, Danielle nearly rear-ended a car, unaware the light had turned red. A few seconds later when she was preparing to make the right hand turn at the intersection, Danielle attempted to steal one last look at the guy in her rear view, only to slam on the brakes when a guy yelled "Look where the fuck you're going you crazy Bitch", from the crosswalk just in front of her.

Adrenaline racing like kerosene through her veins, Danielle should have just floored it and hastily headed back to her side of the tracks. Whether it was her own simmering teenage angst or simply her subconscious morbid want, Danielle peeled off the main drag and made a right into the 7-11 parking lot.

Every nerve in her body boiling, Danielle switched off the ignition and tried to catch her breath.

Having no clue the man she'd been looking at was even walking in that direction, Danielle rung her hands together around the steering wheel as she watched the sidewalk from the parking space she'd pulled into at the far back corner of the lot.

"He probably went the other way," a voice in her head started to say before she saw Denny Pinson stroll into view, obviously making his way towards the front of the store.

The heart that had been jumping like a dog on a chain inside Danielle's chest suddenly lodged squarely in her throat.

It could have been more trite perhaps if she'd beckoned the stranger over to help look at something wrong on her car, but an underage girl asking a grown-up to buy her some beer in a convenience store parking lot seemed a tad overdone. In the fraction of a second Danielle had to make the decision however, it more than served her purpose.

Startling herself by how forceful her words came out, Danielle was loud enough to draw the man's attention without causing anyone else milling around to pay much notice. It didn't take long for the young girl's intestines to start twisting into knots when he turned and started walking towards her car.

The rhythm of his footsteps on the pavement echoing in Danielle's head, the 18 year old could feel an invisible, but very real layer of danger encircling her as he approached.

Asking him to do the impromptu deed once he'd eased up to the driver's side door, Danielle quickly found herself withering beneath the same heartless yet hungry stare her Mother had seen so many times over the previous month.

"I've got $20..you can keep the difference," she looked up and told him.

"I've.....I'm.....I only need a sixpack..I have a few friends....," Danielle continued to spin her yarn, trying to concoct a reasonable story on the fly as she felt herself melting under Denny's gaze.

"....If you can't..that's OK," she stammered a few disjointed breaths later, unable to read whether the man was going to do what she was asking or simply grab her Twenty and calmly walk away.

Seeing the man take a small step back before shifting his eyes, first to the left then to his right, it dawned on Danielle the implication a man in his spot might be facing if he was residing at a place like the Loughlin House.

"If he gets caught buying beer for an underaged girl, that'll mess up his parole and send him back to...," she started to tell herself before Denny reached in and grabbed the bill in one clean and effortless gesture.

An audible gasp left Danielle's throat as the lingering friction from the swiped Twenty sizzled on her fingers.

"Domestic or import?" he asked as he stuffed the bill into his shirt pocket.

"It ...doesn't matter," she replied before realizing the question was just a sarcastic prod.

Watching intently as the man disappeared inside the store, a gnawing urge to start the car and leave welled inside Danielle.

"So what....you lost a $20....if he comes back out and you're waiting, its bad news," she told herself, her forehead pressed in the death grip of her right palm.

"At least you got to see the guy face to face..start the car, you could be a mile away when he comes out, " her conscience railed.




Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 05



Lost in that internal deliberation, Danielle's eyes bolted open at the tone of the 7-11 door opening.

"FUCK..that was quick," she bowed her head and cringed as the sound of Denny's footsteps steadily approached.

___________________________________

"When it rains, it pours," Denny Pinson thought with amusement as he carried the bag of beer from the store.

With Darlene Craft having sent him on the trail Angie Burton, then the way she started putting out for him herself, Denny was getting as much quality cooch as he ever had after being stuck in jail without any for several years. Now with this teenage girl suddenly appearing out of nowhere, Denny sensed he was on the verge of even more.

Carrying the brown bag right up to Danielle's driver side window, Denny prepared to hand it in to her before going on his merry way. Just before he did however, he held the beer just out of her reach.

"I need to walk about a mile up the road...think you could give me a lift?" He asked with a bright but predatory smile.

As much as Danielle could smell the danger brimming from Denny's pores, Denny's senses filled with the young girl's trepidation as well, and he did what any self respecting shark would when he smelt blood in the water. Ever the opportunist, Denny savored that unplugged look of uncertainty in Danielle's eyes when he asked for the ride up the road.

"..I....ah....well....uh....," came her scattered response, knowing after asking him to buy the beer she had no grounds to tell him, 'no'.

"..Uh...OK...," she croaked, her blood running cold when she saw just how just how quick Denny swooped around and opened the passenger side door.

In a cosmic blur, he was suddenly seated to her right with the beer on his lap.

Having him hover over her window had been bad enough, but it was nothing compared to the claustrophobia she felt having him sitting right next to her. A few seconds earlier she'd merely been taunting the lion in its cage, now Danielle was on the verge of being devoured.

"Where do you need to go?" she heard herself ask, her eyes never leaving the windshield in front of her.

"Just a few blocks up the street....I'll show you," Denny replied, his arousal growing hearing the unease in Danielle's voice.

"You might want to actually turn the key and put the car in gear," Denny chuckled to himself as the teenage girl sat paralyzed beside him.

"I went ahead and got a 12 pack," He told her before reaching into the bag and pulling out a cold bottle of Bud Light. "I didn't know how many friends you had coming over."

The inside of Danielle's car filling with the scent of fermentation as soon as Denny twisted off the cap and took the first swig, she couldn't help slinking down in her seat as she pulled out the parking lot.

"At least no one on this side of town knows you," she told herself, but that small bit of optimism did nothing to counteract the growing tumor of anxiety and dread in her gut.

"How much further up?" Danielle wanted to ask but stopped herself when she saw him shoving the first empty back into the bag.

"Want one?" he grinned as he reached in for his second.

"I'm driving," Danielle stammered in growing shock.

"You are legal...right?" Denny leaned over and smirked, his tone signaling that the answer to that query wasn't all that important.

"Yeah," Danielle managed, not exactly sure which 'legal status' he was inquiring about.

One hand gripped on the steering wheel and the other buried in her lap, Danielle could feel the weight of Denny's lurid and unfettered gaze.

"He wants to reach over and touch you," Danielle's sixth sense told her as she blended into traffic.

Listening to the sound of Denny finishing off his second beer to the strains of the Top 40 station on the radio, Danielle took on the appearance of a pot of water beginning to boil as the silence grew between them.

Feeling his eyes roam over every inch of her exposed flesh as she drove along, Danielle knew she'd jump right out of her skin if he so much as reached over and touched her.

Indeed, when he pulled beer number three from the bag and without a qualm placed the frigid bottle against her neck, Danielle did yelp out and jerk the wheels back and forth across the road.

Watching the machinations play out in Danielle's face, shoulders and upper arms, Denny had the audacity to keep the chilled bottle snug against the girl's skin until she stopped trembling.

"Keep the car on the road," he groaned dryly.

Only then did Denny remove the bottle from the side of her neck. When he did, he noticed Danielle's left hand rise from the nest of her crotch and grab the steering wheel.

"Here....take a sip," he offered after twisting off the cap.

This time Danielle guided her right hand off the wheel without looking and took the bottle before putting it to her lips.

"There's a park about a mile or so up..pull into it when you get there," he told her, having clearly noted both Danielle's subtle acts of submission over the previous few seconds.

First she'd eased her left hand away from her crotch, now Danielle was visibly drinking while she was driving in broad daylight. Yet, all that she could focus on in that moment was the sound of Denny breathing beside her.

"The park?" she asked, just so she could hear his voice again.

Even though she was traveling up a busy, mid day stretch of traffic, the cars around Danielle seemed to devolve into vapor trails as she watched what Denny did next.

"SSHHHH....AAAHHHH," she hissed then bristled, her eyes broiling in their sockets when the Ex-con reached over from the passenger seat and placed his weathered hand firmly on the V of her crotch.

Grasping her left hand tight around the steering wheel as the beer swayed like a tempest in her right, Danielle pressed the back of her head against the headrest as Denny's fingers churned into the musky and humid fabric of her black leggings. 

Somehow managing to keep the car on the road, Danielle could look down and see the older man's muscles flexing in his arm as he openly fondled her.

Denny's dark eyes glistening with evil intent as the wetness began to seep out against his swirling digits, it wasn't long before his vaginal manipulations were filling the cab of the car with the scent of teenager's arousal.

"Make a right at the park," he once again urged, this time with his lips pressed seductively up against Danielle's right ear.

______________________________________

She was the Daughter of a quite well-to-do family in town. An 18 year old high school Senior with her entire life in front of her, who should have been out discovering all the world's joys and secrets with friends and classmates her own age instead found herself parked in the most remote lot of one of the city parks, her face buried in the lap of a man who'd been a complete stranger only minutes earlier, lapping her mouth furiously around his bulging erection as if it was the only thing that could grant her another breath of life.

Staring out the windshield of Danielle Craft's car as she eagerly gave him head, Denny found himself focusing on a squirrel strutting across a patch of grass in front of them. With the window rolled down so he could smoke a cigarette while she was providing fellatio, he could hear the varmint's tiny feet crush and crinkle the array of colorful, late Fall foliage blanketing that far corner of the park. Watching the furry thing eventually fly up a tree with a gray flash, Denny tossed the butt of his smoke away and resumed rubbing his fingers through Danielle's hair as she bobbed her head up and down on his lap.

Shifting his rear in the seat when the sensations of impending release began to dance up his spine, Denny would periodically ease his left hand down Danielle's back and pat her ass every few seconds to let the young girl know she was doing a good job.

Denny could have sat there in the young girl's car and shot his wad deep down Danielle's throat and not felt an ounce of regret, While she wasn't nearly as pretty as that Angela Burton girl, or as luridly depraved as Darlene, that married woman he was fooling around with, Danielle possessed an eagerness and untamed energy that he truly appreciated. Denny was almost ready to show her just how much he appreciated it when a better idea popped into his head.

Just before his cum began its final boil to the surface, Denny reached down and raised Danielle's chin off his groin, leaving his fully aroused, spit-shined shaft swaying ominously in front of her face.

"Such a nice day outside...let's get some fresh air," he looked down into Danielle's glowing and wanton eyes and suggested.

Even in her relative naiveté, Danielle sensed they weren't going on a nature hike. The fissure between her legs pulsing like a supernova when she stepped out of the car and tried standing on her own two feet, it was a good thing Denny didn't plan on walking her very far.

Not even wasting the time to shove his cock back inside his pants as he exited the passenger side, Denny pounced around the hood of Danielle's vehicle before pushing her flush against the left front fender. Wrapping his right hand around hers, Denny spun her around and nudged her down the same way a patrolman would someone he just pulled over and needed to frisk.

Forcing both her hands flat down on the hood, Denny kissed her savagely several times on the back of her neck as he worked his palms over the swells of her perky teenage breasts.

Looking around to survey the landscape, Denny took note of the big pond a hundred yards or so down the hill to his right along with the maze of bike and dog walking paths crisscrossing the woods. Surprised somewhat by the lack of foot traffic even for that part of the day, he still knew someone could come along at any moment. That didn't deter him one iota however from doing what he was about to do.

Clenching his 10 fingers into the waistband of Danielle's skin tight leggings, Denny jerked them over the girl's rounded hips until they were situated halfway down her thighs. Immediately feeling the trapped warmth from her crotch billow out against his arm, Denny wasted no time wedging his left hand between Danielle's thighs to play with her soaking wet pussy. It was clear from the temperature down there, she didn't really care in the moment who might stumble upon the scene either.

Her chest flat against the contours of the hood, Danielle could feel Denny's fingers gouging and spinning through the folds of her labia, prepping the rubbery petals for the onslaught to come. Feeling her vaginal moisture leaking down the insides of her exposed thighs, she couldn't get the mental picture out of her head of him hovering behind her, free to do as he pleased as the wind whipped through the branches of the trees.

Grabbing the base of his cock with his right hand once he'd shoved the girl's pants down past her knees, Denny pressed his groin snug against Danielle's behind. From the exhale of resigned acceptance that came from her throat, he sensed that she was somehow still a virgin.

Danielle Craft had, in fact, been to third base with a number of guys in high school, but had never gone all the way. Like most girls, in her dreams she fantasized about how romantic and perfect that eventual moment would be. The realist inside her also was sage enough to know that special moment would most likely be rather awkward, most likely in a cramped place with a fumbling guy. With the reality that she'd found herself in however, while Denny's actions were far from romantic, he was going to be anything but fumbling or awkward.

Having spent her short lifetime preparing herself for what that first penetration would feel like, if she'd been expecting fireworks, what she got was an outright, internal nuclear blast. Buns up and bent over the hood of her car, Denny had the perfect angle to ram his manhood forward until a sustained wail was screeching from the 18 year old's throat as she dug her fingernails into her Toyota's sleek black paint.

"GRRAAHH..GRRAAHHH," Denny gritted his teeth and groaned, his hands locked around each side of Danielle's waist as he ruthlessly plowed her virgin cunt.

With no clue what to expect when she initially set out to spy on the man her Mother was having an affair with, in the end Danielle wound up with way more than she ever bargained for. And just like her Mom had on several occasions with the heartless parolee, now Danielle was allowing Denny to take everything he wanted from her as well.

"GOD..YEEESSSSSSS..OH..GOD..YESSSSSSS," the young girl's voice rose over and over through that secluded corner of the park, bereft of any logic, rationale or reason, simply uttered to egg the man behind her to fuck her that much harder.

With her face tilted down on the car, three or four minutes into the ordeal Danielle had no clue Denny had made eye contact with an older lady who was walking her dog a few hundred feet away. Danielle would never know how Denny had made a point of pistoning his cock into her that much harder when the woman came to a stop to stand there and gawk. How or why that dog never barked Denny would never know either, but the expression on the woman's face was priceless as she tried to turn to lead the pooch away, only to steal several quick glances over her shoulder in disgusted fascination at the carnal coupling.

Six or seven minutes into their tryst, another intruder happened upon the scene and Denny watched her with an eagle eye as well. This girl was close to Danielle's age, probably from the local college, but she was so absorbed and focused on her exercise and the I-pod buds in her ears, she had absolutely no idea the outrageous indecency playing out mere yards away.

All that was immaterial to Danielle. Concentrating on the explosions ripping up and down her spine with every fiber of her being, the half naked girl thrashed her rear end eagerly against Denny's drilling assault. 

Alternating the pace of his thrusts, first slow and probing then recklessly hard and fast, Denny had Danielle completely at a loss over what was coming next. Digging his fingers into the tender flesh of the teenage girl's asschecks during one of the slow and churning progressions, Denny raised his right hand and brought it down with a loud smack that echoed through the nature preserve.

"GGGRRMMMMM.....AAHHHHHHHH," the air whistled out of Danielle's lungs when she felt the unforgiving force of Denny's open palm. The whistle was even louder when he did it a second time.

Feeling Danielle's virgin vaginal sheath constrict like mad around his ample appendage each time he spanked her, Denny knew delaying his gratification this time would be fruitless.

Collapsing his chest all the way down on Danielle's back, Denny buried his dick to the hilt inside the girl's spasming womb, the head of it slamming like a torpedo over and over against her inflamed G-spot until she was tapping her hands franticly on top of her car's hood. Allowing his lips to come to rest just below Danielle's right ear, Denny hungrily kissed the girl's sweaty neck as she mewed and gasped beneath him.

"I'm gonna cum," she finally croaked, her voice weak but tinged with defiant strength as she gave herself completely to him.

The two lovers were so enthralled in rapture, neither was aware a third onlooker had stumbled upon the scene. Luckily, the gentleman, who was clad in a size too small sweatsuit from the 80s, was in such failing eye sight that he could only make out the blurry outline of what was happening on top of that car from where he was standing. It didn't stop the gray hair on the back of his neck from standing on end however when the ferocious sound of both Danielle and Denny cumming filled the woods around him.

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How fitting it was for the dance to end there. The entire merry-go-round had started months earlier when Darlene Craft caught her Husband having sex with the local temptress, ironically enough on the hood of a car. Having made the ultimate decision to contract out her dirty work, Darlene had introduced the cancer of Denny Pinson into her life. Through several sadistic twists and immoral turns, how odd was it for things to come full circle on the hood of yet another car, this time with Darlene's own Daughter Danielle's womb flooded with Denny's virile seed.

For Denny's part, none of that dramatic irony mattered in the least. If it had been a plot in a Lifetime movie, he would have simply flipped the remote right through it. All that registered with him in that glorious moment of euphoric conquest was the sight of his cum-smeared cock dangling between his legs and the gaping and satisfied pink sliver of Danielle's vaginal flower.

Stuffing his spent manhood back into his pants, even Denny showed a momentarily glimpse of grace when he leaned down and helped Danielle pull her stretch leggings back up to her waist before ferrying inside the car so she could drive him back to Loughlin. After all, he had a date later that afternoon with Darlene Craft.

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Unlike the happy ending of a Lifetime movie however, sadly this dance didn't end there.

Considering the drama percolating just beneath the surface of the picture perfect American family, what better time for the shit to hit the fan that over Christmas Dinner. Danielle's Mom and Dad were there in the dining room dressed in their Sunday best. So were both sets of her Grandparents, along with each of her Sisters who also had their boyfriends over. The holiday feast was spread out across the table is such abundance, it was a struggle to even see a shred of tablecloth. A more glorious Christmas card had never been sent.

Like a human X-ray machine, Danielle Craft had seemingly developed the ability, a shine if you will, to see through other people's facades. The main topic of conversation around the dinner table that afternoon was the article in the previous day's paper that the DA in Boulder wasn't going to charge Angela Burton for the drugs that were found in her car. There was simply too much circumstantial evidence attached to the discovery, and considering her otherwise spotless history, they knew they'd never gain a conviction. 

Danielle sensed the pall that had come over her Mother as soon as the topic of Angela's good fortune was broached. The closer she peered into her Mother's soul, she could also detect the still fresh scent of Denny Pinson in each of Darlene's thoughts. Amazing how women were able to do that when it came to a shared lover.

For her part, Darlene could feel the weight of Danielle's assessing stare. It felt as if the girl was literally flipping through her mental file cabinets as the rest of the family shared in the feast. For just a hint of a second, Darlene looked out her Daughter with a vengeful expression of jealousy, as if somehow deep down she knew Danielle possessed something she never would.

Twirling her fork at her food, her appetite on hiatus for the time being, Danielle had a little secret, a precious little gift Denny had left her during their one time together that her Mother would never have the fortune of receiving. Listening to her Mother rail against the world in her own special, snide little way, Danielle toyed in her head just how Darlene Craft, along with everyone else around the table, would react if they saw the result on the home pregnancy test she'd taken only hours earlier. 

The positive test hidden in the purse that hung from the side of her chair, just how would it feel if she reached in and passed that around, just like everyone else were the bowls of potato salad and macaroni and cheese.

And what answer would she give when the inevitable question blew like dragon's fire from her Mother's mouth across the table..."How could you let this happen....Why would you throw your life away....Who's the Father?"




Freakin' with the Enemy Ch. 05



The End

Thanks for reading the series