Finally fucked into exhaustion, Chinga and I slept side-by-side in the forest. His hand was on my cunt, mine on his resting dick. Despite the bizarre nature of the circumstances, I'd never slept so restfully.
I guess that's why I didn't hear the shots until there were so many of them they could have awakened the dead. By that time, Chinga was up and around, having rushed to the edge of the trees so he could see what was going on back at the hideout.
"Jesus Christ," I heard him thunder, "the bastards are shooting the place to pieces."
"Who?" I called. "Who's shooting?"
"The cops," he replied. Then he paused and ominously added: "Or the mob."
I could see what he was getting at. It could easily be either shooting up the hideout. Each had the incentive and means to track us down.
Everything had gone wrong for Chinga and his gang. They were just too small-time to deal with the threats of Roy Parker and the police and organized crime simultaneously. When they'd messed up kidnapping the star of the force, bungllng a contract from the mob, they'd written their own death warrants.
Now the shots were trailing off. As I got up to go join Chinga at the edge of the trees, they were replaced by slamming doors and gunned motors. By the time I'd caught up with him the sound of tires squealing filled the night.
When I looked across the clearing I could see several dark cars speeding away. Even though the sky was moonless it was possible to see them because of another source of illumination. The hideout was blazing with fire – rapidly burning to the ground.
"Where are you going?" I asked Chinga when he moved from my side.
"To try and save the others. They're trapped inside."
I didn't want him to go. Not because I was afraid of being left alone, but because I was afraid for him.
"There could be a sniper down there to pick up strays," I pointed out. "Besides, the hideout is a deathtrap by now. You could never get in – and, if you did, you could never get out."
"But the others – I was their leader…"
"Correction," I said evenly, "you were their leader. They've all been barbecued by now."
I had become incredibly calm in the eye of the crisis. At the same time Chinga had swerved into irrationality. Our roles had been temporarily reversed and I was the dominant one.
"Come on," I urged, "we've got to get out of here."
"Whichever side it is – they'll find us," he cringed.
"Why should they?" I grinned sardonically. "As far as they know, we were lost in the fire. They won't be looking for us if they think we're dead."
He got hold of himself and thought about it. "Yeah," he rasped, his confidence reemerging in the huskiness of his voice, "dead men tell no tales. We could move around the country like we were invisible."
"Then let's get started," I said, turning my back on my respectable past for a life of sex and crime. I had never felt so alive.
That night, we used what remained of the cover of darkness to work our way through the woods away from the smoldering hideout. By morning we reached the outskirts of a small town. It was then we both realized I was still stark naked.
"We gotta get you some clothes," Chinga said, and then paused to screw up his face with perplexity. "Christ, here we are partners and I don't even know your name."
"Angie," I told him. "Just plain Angie. Forget about the rest of it – I'm trying to. Now, you tell me, what's this mysterious Chinga stand for?"
"Fuck you."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Fuck you," he broke up laughing. "It's Spanish for fuck you."
"How'd you get a nickname like that?" I giggled like a schoolgirl.
"My old man was a Mexican. And it was about all he ever said to me the whole time I was growing up. I heard 'chinga' so much I just gradually took it for my name."
"What's your real name?"
"Rodney, from my mother – I'm trying to forget that, too."
"Good, so will I." I batted my eyelashes at him. "I like Chinga. Now what about those clothes – it's chilly out here."
His plan was simple. He had a gun, so he was going to rob a clothing store. Then he was going to steal a car and drive around to the edge of town to pick me up. He assured me that the way he could drive nobody was going to catch us.
It sounded all right when he originally proposed it, but I started to have misgivings when I heard the shots, I hadn't figured on Chinga shooting up the place.
The gunfire was followed by the rumble of commotion in the street. Chinga had succeeded in stirring a sleepy little rural community into a hornets' nest. His style was definitely confrontationist.
More shots rang out and then an engine started. It was such a small town that the sounds were all distinct. With the screeching of tires, I figured Chinga had gotten his car.
Sure enough, it came squealing around the bend just a couple of minutes later. As I piled into the front seat of the Camaro. I noticed a pile of jeans and sweaters in the back.
"I got all different sizes," he informed me as he gunned us away from the hysterical town. "Just find what fits you and toss the rest out the window."
Later, after I was dressed, I asked the inevitable question. "What happened back there?" I put it to him directly. "Was anybody hurt?"
"Yeah," he replied as he hunched over the wheel like a stock-car racer, tearing up country roads at over 80 miles an hour. "Had to waste a couple of guys who got in my way."
"I thought murder was too heavy for you," I said. "I overheard you tell that to the others when you were explaining how you got into the Parker mess."
"That was business, Angie," he replied. "This is survival. There are no more rules to obey. We're free."
"Free to run," I sardonically abridged his estimation of our status. Each dusty mile melting by us was further proof of the fury of our flight. I couldn't help wondering where it would all end.
The police roadblock that abruptly loomed on the horizon didn't help my piece of mind, either. However, it didn't bother Chinga a bit. Accepting it as a challenge, he rammed the accelerator to the floor and drove right through it.
It all happened so fast, it seemed like a dream. It seemed more as though I were watching it in a movie than participating in it.
However, several miles later, I discovered that the bullet holes in the windows were definitely real. "Christ, they were shooting at us!" I blurted.
"You better believe it," he chuckled. "Those Highway Patrol dudes are always trigger-happy."
"But we could have been hit!"
"But we weren't. This is our trip, baby, and nothing's gonna stop us."
He was talking in that commanding tone of voice again. When Chinga turned on the charisma he was irresistible, no matter how outrageous.
"Danger's the ultimate turn-on, baby, don't you know that?" he leered. "Check your pussy – I'll bet the excitement made it soaking wet."
It was a dare I couldn't resist. Unbuttoning my jeans, I pressed my hand against my panty-less crotch.
Chinga was right. It was a swamp down there!
"Well?" he awaited the results.
"My cunt is dripping," I informed him through a Mona Lisa smile. "Pull the car over to the side of the road and fuck me."
A bulge suddenly arose from his lap. At the same time, he slammed on the brakes, throwing the Camaro into a looping skid. By the time we came to rest, we were off the road, rutted beside a tree that we had narrowly missed.
By this time the pace of our impulsive relationship had me panting. "Get out your cock," I hurriedly rasped. "Get out your big cock and fuck me with it."
Fortunately I had not littered the highway with the clothes that hadn't fit me. Still in the back, they provided a soft bed for us when we crawled back there to really get it on. By the time Chinga had his prick in working order, I was back there with my jeans off and legs spread and he dove over the seat to fuck me.
We were like teenage lovers, unable to keep from making love whenever the urge hit us. Humping away in the back seat of a Camaro, we could have been a couple of kids at a drive-in instead of outlaws.
"Mmmmm, wiggle your big prick around inside me," I cooed when he was splitting me to the hilt. "It makes my cunt feel so good when you move."
And, of course, he wanted me to squirm my ass as much as I wanted him to play tricks with his cock. Vigorously obliging, I shimmied so that it seemed I would twist his brittle joint off at the root.
All of the sadism and violence of the night before had disappeared. Locked in my embrace, pumping his dick into my pussy, Chinga was fucking me like a lover rather than an abductor.
"I love you," I whimpered with joy as he speared me to the depths. "I love your big, strong cock."
Already I was coming. Even though we had just begun screwing, orgasm was buzzing within me like a swarm of bees. This was the fastest I'd ever come while fucking a man. Even the symbolic rape of the night before hadn't started me spasming this soon.
As I accepted surge after surge of Chinga's thrill-producing hard-on, I couldn't help but think about the way it had been in my old life. It all seemed so long ago – all that meaningless fucking to no orgasm. Sure, I had some misgivings about my life on the run with Chinga but with his stiff cock making my pussy come, they all seemed meaningless.
I wondered if I could ever go back to the suburbs. When Chinga began to pour sperm into my cunt, I guessed not.
"Your cum feels so hot in my pussy," I congratulated him. "There's so much I can already feel it leaking down my ass."
"I'm really horny today," he informed me of the obvious. "Close-calls do that to me."
"You mean you weren't sure you could get through that police barricade?" I asked incredulously, stroking his cock with my fingers to keep it hard.
"At the time I didn't have a doubt in the world," he said. "It's only after these things are all over that I start to think about how close I came to getting wasted. Teetering on the edge does something to me – charges me up. Makes me think I'd better live for today because the next gamble might not work out."
"Well, don't turn philosopher on me, I'll take your word for it," said, squeezing his prick to make sure it was at full strength. "As a matter of fact, why don't you just let your hard-on do your talking for you?"
"Where?" he eagerly asked.
"My tits," I surprised him. "They're the only part of me you haven't put your cock to."
After thinking about it for a few seconds; he seemed to like the idea. My naked body had a very persuasive effect on him.
"Oooooh, that's it," I moaned as he slipped his stiff tool between my heaving breasts. "I'll squeeze them together and you fuck them like they're a cunt."
Gently he began his stroking. He was as tender now as he had been sadistic last night. It was clear that we shared something we had not had before. More and more I was choosing to think of it as love.
Then, as the head of his dick struck my chin on its furthest thrust between my tits, he told me what I had been waiting to hear. "Angie, I can't be sure of this – because its never happened to me," he said. "But I think I love you."
My reply was the only sane thing for a woman to do under the circumstances. With the meaty end of my lover's beautiful prick throbbing in my face, I opened my mouth and started sucking it.
Now when Chinga moved his cock to and fro in the constriction of my jugs, the knotty head pulled my lips back and forth. What I was doing with the pliant collar of his foreskin started to make him whimper with pleasure.
Eventually he was fucking my tits so fast that his prick was like a piston. I knew he was on the verge of coming because I could feel his balls rolling against the underside of my mammaries. This time when he exploded he would fill my mouth. I could hardly wait to drink my lover's cum.
Interlacing my fingers in his, I helped him squeeze my breasts together even tighter. I wanted the pressure to be unbearable. My stomach was grumbling for jizz.
Within seconds, I had it. With all the friction I'd arranged, there was no way Chinga's cock could do anything but explode. He may have been horny to begin with – but I had made him into Superman.
Despite having flowed only minutes before, his sperm was as thick and plentiful as before. Correction: more plentiful.
I fought for every drop, but of course I couldn't swallow all of it. That which didn't warm my belly backed up in my breathing passages and leaked from my mouth. Before long my face was oozing cum. I felt like I was melting.
Then it occurred to me to lean forward and spit what was left of the jismn in my mouth on my tits. After all, they deserved it after fucking Chinga's cock so well.
When my jugs were blotched with lumps of spunk, I rubbed it in like body lotion. My throbbing nipples were a special point of attention.
The more I massaged myself, the better if felt. The tingling wouldn't stop. Pretty soon it had increased to the point where I felt like I had an electric coil in each breast.
"Hey," Chinga called for my attention, "stop playing with yourself and get back to my cock. It's still hard."
"Shhhhh," I quieted him. "I think I'm about ready to have, an orgasm in my tits. I want to see if I can do it."
"With my cum, you can do anything," he laughed, and began to help me knead my slippery nipples.
Then, suddenly, I ran out of breath. It felt as though I had two hearts, and each was ensconced in a breast.
"God, I'm coming!" I gasped. "Really coming in my tits. I feel like I'm having two heart attacks at once."
He just laughed. "Wait'll you see what I'm gonna do to your ass. My cock'll have you shitting the colors of the rainbow."
"Only if you do it to me like I was a dog," I quickly came around to his way of thinking. "I really want to feel your prick up my ass."
I didn't wait for his reply. In spite of the limitations of the back seat; I managed to turn over and get to my knees. Then, resting my face on the arm-rest, I hoisted my lily-white butt right under Chinga's nose.
I mentally pictured his nostrils flaring. It had been a long time since I had bathed and I was sweaty and dirty. The scent from my scummy crotch must have been a mind-blower.
"Stop taking pictures and fuck me," I teased him. "My ass is soaking wet for you. You can fuck me all the way on the first thrust if you really try."
"Mmmmmmm, I can see it," he drooled. I could hear his lips smack after he wiped off a leaking glob and noisily tasted it. "And it tastes even funkier than it looks. I love a woman with a wet ass."
"Then I'm your girl," I wiggled my specimen in his face. "My ass is wet for only one reason in the world – and that's your cock. So fuck me with it."
"It's a pleasure," he bit into his words. Then, jerking with laughter, he added: "Besides, it's the only way to plug up the smell. Baby, you are funky!"
"Flattery will get you everywhere," I replied. "But your cock up my ass will get yow even further."
"I know," he dead panned. Then he proceeded to show how much he knew.
As strong as a bull despite two recent ejaculation, Chinga ripped the cheeks of my ass even further apart than they already were and gored the horn of his prick into me. The tract of my anus jumped like a skipping rope from the impact of the assault. Even though the way was slick, obstacles of convulsing tissue abounded.
Quickly it hit me what was happening. Chinga was having trouble navigating my asshole because I was already coming there. Paradoxically, it was the rhythm of my anal orgasm that was keeping the hard-on I so desperately carved out of my shit-pit. I had gone all the way from being a frigid woman to being the female version of one of those premature ejaculators.
So I could temporarily stop coming, I purposely thought of something that was a total turn-off. Surprising even myself, I selected my life as a loyal housewife in the suburbs as my downer.
Yes, it was the pits tall right. Desperately trying to cool down my twisting asshole, I pictured my family assembled in the living room of our home. The dullness of their faces astonished me.
Tom's expression was such a blank. He looked so much like a… like a… like an insurance salesman. He was so predictable. How had I ever allowed myself to become captive in his prison of boredom when there was so much excitement in the world?
And the kids. They were there, standing alongside Tom. God, I hadn't given them a thought since I'd been kidnapped. Even now, as I mentally peered into their faces, I wasn't sure I could tell one from the other. Although one was a twelve-year-old girl and the other an eleven-year-old boy, both Bobby and Anita had freckled, snub-nosed faces, braces on their teeth, and straight blond hair that went down to their shoulders. Since both their wardrobes consisted primarily of t-shirts and jeans, their identities remained constantly merged in my mind.
Bobby and Anita were nice kids, but they were like vanilla. It wasn't that I didn't love them – but they were so bland. They were turning into their father. Frankly, with Chinga trying to stuff his big prick up my ass, I was terribly bored by them all.
"Oooommmppphh!" my outlaw lover grunted as he lurched across my back. "You sure straightened yourself out quick. Your asshole just went soft and swallowed my prick whole. Never seen anything like it."
"I know," I smugly cooed. "It's a little trick of mind over matter I brought into crime with me from my exotic past in the suburbs."
"Like maybe thinking about your dullsville life back in the straight world so you could turn off the climax in your ass long enough to give my cock a clear path inside?" he brusquely read my mind.
"How did you know?" I bleated, impressed by his insight as I wriggled my buns atop his totally penetrating prick.
"I left a family behind, too," he confessed. "Back in New Jersey."
"Did you love them?"
"Of course," he said. "But not as much as being on my own – doing what I wanted to. I realized I couldn't have both. One had to go – and I couldn't let it be my freedom."
"And you call this freedom…" I challenged his reasoning, "being chased? Running for our lives?"
"Fucking in the ass all the way up to the balls in the back seat of a stolen Camaro," he cut off my protest by flipping the discussion to the other side of the coin.
"Freedom is fucking me in the ass?"
"Why not? Can you think of anything better to do?"
"Not at the moment," I assured him.
"Then let's stop jiving and start fucking. I want to come in your ass some time before the sun goes down."
"You won't hear another peep out of me until I scream," I guaranteed him.
Since Chinga's hard-on was now buried in my rectal tunnel to the squashiness of his balls and the scratchiness of his pubic bush, the fucking movement we made had to be generated by the central muscles of our bodies. And not only was his cock in my ass a tight fit, so were he and I in the back seat of the Camaro.
On top, Chinga could move around a little bit with his hips. However, awkwardly kneeling, I found the best way to get my pelvis to actively twitch was to think dirty. Slamming shut the family album that had made my anus pliant, I delved into the sewer of my mind to get things going down there again.
In my mind I imagined what Chinga's big cock must look like as it rammed endlessly into my butt. I wished I were double – jointed so I could twist around and lick it while it fucked my ass.
I got so hot that I automatically went in search of some added stimulation. When my wandering hand found my dripping pussy and began tweaking my clit, it was like pouring gasoline on an already raging fire.
I hadn't played with myself like this since I was back home in the suburbs. It seemed so long ago that I had to masturbate to come. How much better to have it as the frosting on top of the damage a great big cock could do.
While Chinga kept cornholing me, I slipped my fingers into my gushing twat and began manipulating them in the goo. Finger-fucking my cunt in places that only I as its owner could know about, I made myself come in a second hole while I was stilt orgasming in the first.
By the time Chinga finally shot his wad up my ass, I had so much juice in my pussy that it felt like the jizz was leaking through the thin membrane separating the two love-chutes. I could swear there was no difference at all between my ass and cunt as my outlaw lover engorged the former with his huge cock, and I now used the cudgel of my clenched fist within the other.
As I fist-fucked my twat, time and again my knuckles came in collision with the head of Chinga's cock. He was still ejaculating, and there was a lump in the dividing tissue every time he squeezed off a new glob of fresh jism.
It seemed like Chinga would keep coming in my ass forever. He only stopped his spurting when my tearing anal tissue reminded me of the scream I'd promised to him, and I delivered it with blood-curdling fury.
By the time his squirting had ended, my bowels seemed taut with the burden of his sperm. The constant sloshing when I moved made my equilibrium uncertain.
"Quick!" I finally blurted. "You've got to get off me – I've got to get out of the car!"
My voice was too frantic for him to question my intent. Reaching over the seat in the first place to get a hold of the front door, the recoil from Chinga's cock popping from my ass sent me smacking face first into it.
Contrary to my original plan, my crashing chin rather than my hand succeeding in depressing the handle enough to open the door. With its latch no longer sustaining my weight, the metal panel sprang open, momentum depositing me in a heap on the ground.
Shaking my head, I got my wits just in time to squat and avoid making a mess. I had just balanced myself on my spread haunches when the pressure which had been building in my colon unleashed itself.
The gruel spewed out of my asshole just like the results of an enema. The only difference was that this enema had been done with male cum – the discharge was like defecating liquid velvet. With joy I watched the pool of lumpy whiteness spread on the ground before me, proud as a woman that I had been able to take so much.
"So what do we do for an encore?" I said a few moments later, arising from the now-muddy ground.
"Rob a bank," he grinned as he handed me my clothes from the car. "We've got to get some money for gas so we don't have to keep holding up filling station attendants."
Seized by a desperate need for adventure, his convoluted logic appealed to me. "Rob a bank…" I repeated his proposal. "Why not?"