Message-ID: <5431eli$9711061310@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: dez187lm@hotmail.com (H.D. Meister) Subject: Story: Tales Thirteen - tales013.txt [1/1] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <63opbv$gbp$1@solaris.cc.vt.edu> Greetings from the shadows!! Here is another submission from what passes as my mind. Hopw you enjoy! All standars disclaimers apply: If you are not 18 or over or live in a community where this material violates the moral codes of cunduct, do not read this! And don't make a profit off of my work! these works are meant to be freely viewed by all consenting adults! All comments can be directed to dez187lm@hotmail.com and I will reply to all. _______________________________________________________________________ Tales Thirteen: Nick Gory By: H.D. Meister This will be the last words anyone shall hear from Nick Gory. I have had a great run, and I guess I knew that this day would come. I just didn’t figure on it coming as it has. Her name is Katrina. She’s a beautiful black woman, with looks like an Egyptian goddess. Her body is slender, crafted by many hours in the gym. Her dark brown eye can drown a man in the sublime silence of their depths. She looks more like a model... and nothing like the ruthless leader of one of North Carolina’s biggest drug running gangs. Katrina is living proof that the book cover means two things: Jack and Shit. My job was to put her behind bars. I did my part, but now I’m a freebird; that’s what the company calls an agent who is compromised beyond hope. It also means that I’m targeted for sanctioning. And all because I slept with the enemy. Was it worth it? Damned skimpy. Katrina knew more moves in bed than I thought humanly possible. Being between her thighs was the closest thing to heaven I knew possible, and I have slept with close to one thousand women. Her kiss was nothing short of erotic bliss. I still dream of rubbing my face against her soft thighs before sliding my tongue across her bare mound of Venus. And nothing was kinky as far as she was concerned. I remember the first time we had anal sex. Just thinking of that moment as anal sex grates; we made love. Or at least I did. I know it’s totally unprofessional, but I had hoped to change her with the power of our love making. Guess what they said in the academy was true: you never lose the rookie in you. I mean... I knew from the look in her eyes that I was not the first to travel her dark rear path, but I also knew that I was the best. How many had gone before me, I did not know or care to know. At that moment, all I cared about was her. Over ten years, and I never let myself get attached to anyone. I’ll bet my father is rolling over in his grave; he was the perfect racist Southerner. "If it ain’t white, it ain’t right." Yeah... and I’m the Virgin Mary. If he could have known the softness of her touch as she pulled one load after another from Bob the Mighty, something she did quite often, he would have gotten a face full of reality. Now... things are different. She’s locked away in a Federal prison, getting that sweetness licked and fucked by some huge bull dyke who only knows her as the latest in a long line of easy pussy. You don’t know how hard it was for me to turn her in, but I did it. I am a good soldier after all. Too bad the rest of her gang is looking at me as if I’m the one who caused their problems. It’s true, but all they have are guesses and maybes. If they only knew how much I really cared about her. The company did, which is why I’m counting the hours until I find myself face to face with Saint Peter. At least I know who’s going to get the shot at me. I couldn’t ask for a better choice. He’s known for being an honorable man. Just ask the Yakuza and the Mafia. He will at least allow me one last time with Katrina. I don’t know how he arranged it, and I really don’t want to know. All I need to know is that I will get one last time alone with a woman... who may well want this good ole boy dead. I could tell by her eyes that she hated me. She knows that I’m the one responsible for her downfall. No regrets here; the drugs she was selling had ruined countless families, some of which she knew intimately. She stood before me, defying me to take her. She wanted me to rape her... to take from her that which she once gave me freely. I could have gone frosty on her, but decided to let her see just how much I cared. What I saw was what I expected. She was laughing. She saw that I cared about her, and laughed in my face. There are some kinds of pain which simply hurt. There’s no other way to explain it, and I don’t think even Poe could adequately script the terror it brings. It’s not that love has been denied to you; Love has been literally slaughtered before your helpless eyes. All you can do is watch, and feel the sound of Love’s flesh rending from the muscles beneath it. "So. I guess you wanted one last fuck before you head off to fuck someone else’s life up, Jason. If that’s your real name, which I doubt." "Fuck? Nah... I was hoping to convince you to join me. I’m leaving, and want you to come with me." "Why? Need your daily fix of black twat?" "Look. If you don’t want to join me, I’ll leave. But I will let you in on one thing: after I’m gone, you’re dead. I don’t know how it will happen, but you’re dead. You have compromised my safety, which means my employers won’t hesitate to put you on ice." I watched as she took this bit of information in. Hope clawed at my throat. Maybe she’ll see reason. "You love me." "Yeah. Not too professional, but I never played by the rules... unless they suited my goals." "If I go with you, what then? What’s to stop me from going back?" "Nothing. I won’t, if that’s what you’re asking. But I know of one man who will. And you know him as well. He did the Nubian order." Now that look... I had seen it before. Everyone in the game knew Delvar Steele, and knew that he simply didn’t play. Let me put it this way: the Government fears him. If that doesn’t tell you how bad-assed he is, I don’t know what will. The fact that he’s still breathing air should tell you even more. I saw that look on Katrina’s eyes. On the streets, even the hint that he was looking for you was enough to make the hardest screwface sweat tank shells... fuck bullets. "Well, Jason. I guess I’ll take my chances with the dykes here. At least I have a chance." Damn. Telling the truth was my only ace in the hole. I had hoped to spook her into coming with me. Guess I never really knew how hard she really was. If Poe were alive, I’d bet he could get another classic horror tale from the torment I faced. "Katrina..." "Shut up and get over here. Do you know how long It’s been since I’ve been without a good hard dick in me? A broom handle just ain’t the same." I looked into her eyes, and saw the flickering of pain. I don’t even remember walking towards her. All I can recall is suddenly kissing those soft lips. Bob throbbed painfully, knowing that this would be his last journey into her warmth. I could hear it cry with this loss. I cried, letting all of those long dead emotions rise from the packed earth which I personally dumped over their deeper than deep graves. I let them claw their way through my soul. When I peppered her mound with kisses, I didn’t need to look up to know that this was different. She was feeling what it felt to beloved. She even tasted different, her nectar flowed strong with the power of Love. Unabashed love. Somewhere, within that blackened rock of coal she called a heart, there was just enough heat to light a fire. I knew that fire; it burned within me. I could feel her struggle to deny it... deny herself the control that not caring gave someone who played the game. One gentle suckle on her guardian broke that grasp, and she fell. I rose, and saw the one lone tear on her face. Mentally, I watched him as he watched us. Behind the five inch thick metal door I knew there were three well trained guards. Given but a blink from him, they would burst in and kill her. No compassion. No caring. It was just another job to them. I closed that eye, and opened my others. It was true love making. She had thrown herself into my arms with the full awareness that she actually cared about someone other than herself or the dead presidents which filled her dreams. Now... I was the thing which was her dreams. Even as I slid one thick finger into her rear, I knew she would not deny herself anything. She would deny me nothing. This was not just her "last fuck," it was her only chance to know what it was like to make love. Arrogance aside, it was my best performance. Every stroke was meant for her and her alone. I didn’t care if I ever knew orgasm. All I cared about was her pleasure. Nick Gory the company man was gone... dead and buried. Never even fucking existed. None of his crimes mattered. None of his heroics even graced the minds of the suits who lavished him with medals and congratulations. It was just myself and Katrina... and Love. We moved from position to position with grace and ease. I chuckle, however; we never did missionary. Almost as if that was one position saved for two who had years to spend looking into each other’s eyes. It was a silent oath. We wanted to remember the wild times... not this sadness laced pleasure that we both desired. Every kiss was special... a thing to be treasures well beyond the end of Time. I didn’t even bother to remove myself as I felt my end... our end... approach. She fought off the tides of her own release... just for me. She wanted us to be together in this last moment... of both of our lives. Katrina would walk away from me, and find death. Nick Gory would walk away, and find death... and rebirth. I would continue. She would not. I cried. Would it be a boy or a girl? I wondered what he or she would grow up to be like. I could see their mother’s strength in their eyes. I cried. We didn’t even cuddle. Once the end came, we rose, and I left the room. She would always be a woman to me... not the monster I had killed. Well... it’s time to pay the piper. Writing with these gloves on is a real bitch, but I guess this is better than nothing at all. Death by combat. It will look like I got into a fight with Katrina’s gang, and got waxed in the fight. No one will ask any questions. The police investigation will go smoothly, ending up with no real leads and an unsolved gang related fatality. As to Nick Gory? He’ll be buried in the family plot, right beside his mom and pop. The Gory family tree will end there. And somewhere in California, sitting at a computer desk trying to figure out how to correct a certain bug in one of today’s leading word processor programs, Michael Justin from Martinsville, Virginia... a graduate from one of Virginia’s leading technical colleges... will stop thinking of the irksome bug and remember the soft skin of a young black woman with deep brown eyes, the body of an angel, and no heart. He’s here. This is going to hurt, but not as much as losing her. Sometimes, being nobody really sucks the big fat juicy cock. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /