Chronicles of Darla Ch. 00

Their honeymoon was a brief affair, intensely sensual, but dimmed by the alcoholic haze which surrounded it.

Jean Paul had blown the budget and rented a honeymoon suite near Old Montreal. Darla was amazed...never in her life had she seen a room so decadently appointed.

It was a vision in red and white. The pale carpet was thick enough to lose yourself in, and the large, round bed came equipped with an array of built-in remotes that stimulated the imagination. But the focal point of the suite, was the private hot tub for two that sat invitingly in a red- tiled room beyond the bed.

Darla crossed the scarlet enclosure and dipped her hand into the bubbling water, smelling the aroma of fresh strawberries rising from its depths. It was then she felt Jean Paul close behind her, his hands on her hips, preventing her from turning to face him.

"Do you like it, My Cherie'?" he whispered, his tone husky and seductive. "I planned this just for you."

Dropping his shirt to the floor, Jean Paul reached his arms around and cupped her breasts with his hands. "You've got too many clothes on." he rasped, his fingers pulling her sweater up and over her head.

She felt his hair-roughened chest press intimately against her back, pinning her body between his and the raised edge of the hot tub. Slowly, he brought his hands behind her and released the catch of her bra, dropping it to the floor at his feet. His lips explored the bare expanse of her back, and he once more reached around to squeeze her hardened nipples. Darla flushed, a rash of "goose flesh" spreading across her upper torso.

Remaining behind her, he silently kneaded her breast with one hand while he insinuated the other beneath the waistband of her skirt and panties, thrusting his fingers into the dampening crevice below.

Aroused, but confused, Darla attempted to turn and face her husband, but with silken control, he held her fast.

"Not yet." he whispered huskily. "Please...not yet."

Darla felt his lips descend her spine as he lowered himself to the floor behind her. Then, pressing his lips to the small of her back, he raised her skirt and began to gently tug her panties down her thighs, covering each inch with his tongue as they slowly sank to her ankles.

Trying to conventionalize their actions, Darla tried a second time to turn and face her husband, but again his pleas held her firmly in place, his hands positioning her naked posterior before him. He had only just begun.

Gently, he lifted her foot, and bypassing her shoe, removed her left ankle from its silken restraint. Waves of passion washed over her, her knees began to tremble.

Once more she reached out to support herself on the edge of the hot tub.

Jean Paul pressed his hands between her legs and urged them apart, stroking the silken texture of her inner thighs, again plunging his fingers into her dripping core. She was incredibly wet, aroused beyond belief at his unconventional approach.

Jean Paul gently nudged her upper torso, causing her to lean forward, and project her creamy globes closer to his questing lips. It was then that Jean Paul slid between her legs on his knees, and positioned himself between her trembling thighs.

Darla's eyes widened as she felt his warm breath waft across the dark curls between her legs. Then, reaching upward with both hands, he plunged his questing fingers into the heated recesses of her body, causing her to gasp raggedly and press against him.

Gently opening her delicate folds with his thumbs, he inserted his probing tongue into her vagina, feasting hungrily on the abundant moisture within.

"Jean Paul!" she exclaimed, her voice high and uneven. "W...what are you doing? Oh..." she bit her lip, stifling a moan of passion. "Jean Paul!" she tried to speak, but the words died in her throat.

Thrusting his tongue maddeningly in and out of her quivering core, Jean Paul began to stimulate the hardened nub before him with the tip of his finger.

Darla's knees began to buckle, and a ragged cry tore from her lips. "Jean Paul...Jean Paul...Oh my god..."

She began to sink to the floor beside him, but he stabilized her body with his hands until she once again found support from the hot tub. Then, as her climax rocked the room, he quickly stood up and opened his zipper, plunging his enormous erection deep into her wet and quivering flesh.

Darla was beside herself. She grabbed the hot tub for support as her senses fled, leaving only animal passion in their wake...an untamed hunger that only his body could satisfy.

Grasping her hips beneath the bundled vestige of her skirt , he pulled her roughly against him, thrusting wildly into her dripping sex as her vaginal muscles greedily sucked his engorged organ. He was hard...he was hot...he was ready.

She felt his lips press hungrily against the side of her throat, his body covering hers... bending her forward... plunging harder...deeper...faster. And then she felt the hot rush of him flood her inner being, carrying her once again in its wake.

Afterward, they lay exhausted, in each other's arms as the warm, scented water swirled around them. Let tomorrow take care of itself, she thought. "Tonight is made for love." Autumn, Northern Quebec

As with all good things, the honeymoon too must come to an end.

When they returned home Jean Paul's possessiveness took on manic proportions. She was his wife now, to him that meant he owned her body and soul. Darla became more and more unhappy with each passing day.

With a year yet to go in school, Jean Paul grudgingly continued to rent the small trailer on the edge of town, and Darla attempted to complete her studies. She tried valiantly to create the home she had always wanted, but by now her alcohol abuse was absent only during the six hours each day that she spent in class, and as a result she never was sober long enough to clean up the mess and white trash decor. At home, Jean Paul' supply seemed to be never ending, and Darla felt her physical and emotional dependence growing with each passing day.

One night, as she lay awake in bed, her eyes tracing the posters of beer advertisements and gracefully distasteful Playmates. The sheets reeked of body odor, beer and ancient semen. Darla swore she never knew why she stayed in that contemptible bed, but deep down, she knew the truth. The reason she fucked her possessive husband both for a quick thrill as well as her hopes for his renewed affection. However, both were illusions: the thrill of her and Jean Paul fiery beginning had quickly melted into her discontent with sex and the affection she felt never existed.

One morning, after a terrible fight, the sun woke Darla, who was too annoyed sleep anyway, and, without waking Jean Paul, who was out cold from his night of constant drinkning with his father, turned on the hot water and showered away the tears of regret, slowly rubbing her clit, accomplishing what her drunken husband, who lately never had the energy, never could. After drying off from the shower and orgasm, she dressed and went to see the only person she knew would be awake this early on a Saturday.

Darla was never ashamed of her body, as you could tell from her outfit consisting of a miniskirt that clutched her firm ass and the powder blue tank top that exposed her tempting and luscious breasts. Even without the dynamite body, her fierce, emerald eyes could strike a hard on for any man daring enough to look her straight in the eye. It was no surprise that even that nuns who taught at her high school turned their heads when she walked by. Despite all her credentials, she found herself settling on the first archaic pick up line she heard in college.

Darla walked slowly to Jean Paul' best friend Bobby's apartment. She didn't know him very well, but his expertise in computers and quirky sense of humor made their friendship beneficial. He opened his door quickly after the first knock, only slightly shocked by her arrival at dawn. He had undoubtedly been laboring at his computer all night.

"Hey Darla, good morning. Wanna cup of coffee?" he asked as he lead her inside his place. For the first time, she noticed the drastic contrast between his ebony hair and gentle blue eyes. When he turned around for an answer, she gasped when she saw violent waves of sapphire roll through his eyes. Her vision moved lower, past his pouty lips, onto his bare, chiseled chest. He was not an exotic steroid pumped body builder, but his torso was perfectly toned and dominating. Darla bit her lip as she felt her panties moisten.

"Coffee? No thanks. Let's just go to your room," she finally replied. Darla's mind raced with her newfound attraction. Did his shy and demure nature keep his extremely fuckable qualities hidden? Or did her obsession with the loser who quickly faded from her memory prevent her from seeing real opportunities?

He sat at his desk as Darla lay down on his bed. They had ten minutes of frivolous small talk about weather, classes, and mutual friends. Darla could stand it no longer as her carnal lust possessed her. She walked to him, then straddled her legs over him.

"I want you to fuck me," she announced confidently. Bobby seemed overwhelmed by the possibility, but he overcame that as he looked into Darla's eyes.

"Okay. I've never had sex, so why don't you fuck me?"

Darla answered with a decisive kiss. As their warm tongues met, he wrapped his godly arms around her, pulling her into his erect cock. Darla's clit tingled with anticipation as she felt his bulge beneath her. The deflowering had begun.

Kissing became an uproar of passion. Bobby's virginal hands roamed freely across her back. That wasn't enough for Darla as her flawless tits burned with ardor. Slowly taking off her tank top, she revealed to Bobby his every fantasy. A light pink bra bound her voluptuous breasts. Bobby's purity vanished as he fumbled with the bra, finally removing it to exhibit her hard, pink nipples.

"Lick them." Darla demanded. Bobby encased her lovely nipples in his lips then tasted the sweet, soft flesh. At first he was timid and gentle, but then an erotic fervor spread through his loins. His hand cupped the breasts his mouth wasn't savoring and caressed it with hunger. This intense and affectionate stimulation was intoxicating to Darla and she let out a low, melodic moan.

As his unsure finger graced past her crotch, she could no longer take the teasing. Her clit tickled, then ordered more. Darla sat up from Bobby's lap. Torturing Bobby and his hard dick, she slowly danced out of the skirt. Now, only in a pink, lace thong, she laid down on his bed, offering her curvy, feminine body to him.

"Take off my panties." Bobby followed her command, shaking with arousal and apprehension. Kneeling at the edge of the bed, he gently peeled the moist thong from Darla. Immediately, he was dizzy with rapture as he saw the smooth, silky skin surrounding her pink cunt. Possessed by an appetite he had never known, he dug his face deep into her legs, hungering for the sweet juices of her pussy. As he licked the outer lips, Darla's body eagerly tensed up. His tongue teased and kissed.

Neither could stand the temptation, so Bobby spread open her lips, embraced the Mecca before him, and unleashed his strong, sensual tongue onto her throbbing clit. He was obsessed with the smell of sugar and sweat. Darla shook with delight as her clit swelled with pleasure. His tongue quickened its pace and increased pressure; Darla let out shrills and groans of euphoria. Her own hands added to the experience as she pinched her erect tits. For being a sexual novice, Bobby indeed mastered eating pussy. He massaged her soft thighs as Darla had, up to that time, the most intense orgasm of her life. Her muscles exploded with energy and a flood of cum flowed into Bobby's mouth. He moaned at the full, delicious taste of his lover.

By now, Bobby's cock ached for sex.

"I need you to fuck me right now," Darla said. She sat up and lead his shoulders to the bed. Bobby was on his back now, lying down. Darla slowly took off his boxers, revealing his dick pointing to the sky. Amazed, Darla observed the length and girth of his impressive cock. Leaning over his thick cock, she licked the warm, sweet precum of his soft head. Bobby's breathing became deep and heavy as Darla's tongue rolled around the tip of his penis. Her tongue felt smooth and firm.

Bobby's fingers went through her silky hair as Darla swallowed his dick deeper and deeper into her throat. He growled with ecstasy as her tongue stroked his rock hard dick and her hands massaged his balls. Darla's intense eyes gazed into Bobby's as she bobbed her head up and down his cock. Just as Bobby felt his muscles tense up, she released his member from her satin mouth, and for the first time savored the essence and taste of male virileness.

"I want to feel you inside of me," Darla whispered as she straddled his again. She sat on his huge cock, rubbing it against her hard, wet clit. The friction was irresistible, so Darla firmly grabbed his smoldering cock and thrust him inside her dripping cunt. Bobby's eyes widened with surprised pleasure as Darla moved her body in a lustful rhythm. His finger furiously attacked her clit as he pulsed deeper into her tight pussy. Drunk with passion, they gazed into each other's eyes. They fucked hard as Darla's hips plunged his giant, juicy manhood into the depths of ecstasy. Darla aggressively fondled her tits to deal with his electric dick and finger.

"You're beautiful," Bobby shouted as he climaxed and released a lifetime of desire. Darla's body shook with tremors as their cum mixed inside of her. Still connected, she lay on him. For an eternity they're still, their heartbeats corresponding. At last they separate, but only to spoon and kiss throughout the night. She felt his breath on her back, smelled his luscious, sweaty body, and heard him whisper heavenly praises in her ear.

They slept into the day, eventually awaken by Darla's ringing cell phone. She recognized the number, it was and Jean Paul, but as much as she wanted to ignore the call, and tell him that she wanted a divorce, she meekly went home and crawled back to into her husband's arms, where they both drifted back into a peaceful slumber. Yet, despite her fling with Bobby, who was Jean Paul's best friend, she knew that it was in her husband's arms where she was meant to be, no matter how much of a bad boy and influence he was.

As the summer turned into autumn, and autumn into winter, the money quickly began to run out after Jean Paul was laid off. However, even though he was layed off, it seemed that the cash flow and Jean Paul's free spending ways would never end. Occasionally, Darla would ask Jean Paul how he'd earned the money that paid their growing expenses, but his response was always the same. "Here and there." he'd repeat evasively, his look silencing any further query. Darla's tumultuous life with Charles Padgett had taught her to leave well enough alone, and so she accepted his avoidance in the interests of peace, and self-preservation.

Then, one day the mounted police showed up at the entrance to the small trailer the Ragles shared on Sitgrieves Avenue. In their hands they carried a warrant for Jean Paul' arrest...the charge: armed robbery. And Darla's world once again came crumbling down around her.

Jean Paul was charged with the armed hold-up of a convenience store in a small town a few hours drive to the east. The evidence against him was conclusive, and the respective lawyers involved soon plea bargained the inevitable charge to a span of three to five years in a provincial prison. Then, on the day before her 19th birthday, almost as though their lives together had never existed, Jean Paul was gone. Spring, Northern Quebec

It was hard moving back to the bungalow in which she'd been raised, but by then, her father was serving a stiff brig sentence for drunkenly assaulting a female acquaintance, and was no longer present. Darla found herself truly alone.

The townspeople treated her with contempt. "Jean Paul Ragle's little bitch," they whispered as she passed down the street, "Charles Padgett's drunken kid!" Then one day a familiar face turned up on her doorstep"

"Aunt Sofia" Darla squealed, throwing her arms around her visitor. It her god mother Sofia, her mother's best friend, home from her latest medical recruiting tour on the farthest reaches of some mysterious shore.

" I can't believe that you're really here!"

"I had to come, Darla. I heard some of the rumors coming from this one-horse town, and it wasn't good."

Darla was momentarily subdued. Her neighbors hadn't wasted any time.

"It's not too bad." she lied. "I'm getting along okay." Then her voice brightened. "I'll be graduating in two weeks...can you stay?" she asked hopefully.

"Absolutely!" Sofia replied. "I wouldn't miss it for anything.

The next two weeks were the most pleasant that she could remember. Sofia became more than her god mother, she became her friend. Even her drinking problem, which had reached astronomical proportions, became more manageable. For the first time in her life, Darla felt truly connected... genuinely cared for.

It was then that she began to worry about what her world would be like after Sofia left and resumed her duties, and she was once again alone. Could she bear to revisit the alienation and loneliness that had become the calling cards of her life? Sofia was sure that she was stronger than she gave herself credit for, but in her heart she knew she was wrong.

Then, three days before her graduation, her insecurities won out. Taking a bottle of vodka from her former "stash", Darla crept out behind her home and attempted to dim the still, small voice that so plagued her.

She drank until the world became a gray, painless blur, and all of the pieces seemed to fit once again. Then, too compromised to rise to her feet, she closed her eyes and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

That was how Sofia found her the next morning,

"Darla...Darla? Wake up. Have you been out here all night?"

Darla looked guiltily around her. Her clothing was disheveled, her hair was matted with sand, and the half- empty vodka bottle lay, like a dying soldier at her side.

Remembering her father, Darla looked warily at Sofia, and waited for the invectives to assail her senses. But Sofia was nothing like Charles Padgett. Far from the reproach she had expected, her regard was for her welfare alone.

Crouching by her side, her voice was soft and calmative. "Darla? Are you alright?" She asked, her face masked in concern. "Do you think maybe you'd like to come inside now?"

It was then that the tears began to flow down her ravaged, dirt-streaked face. "Oh... Aunt Sofia. I'm so ashamed. I let you down...you must hate me."

Gently she brushed the tears from her cheeks, turning the tiny rivulets into wide, muddy swaths. "I could never hate you, Darla. You should know that. As for letting me down... you're the one who's feeling guilty and ashamed right now...maybe the one you really let down is a lot closer to home."

Then, regaining her feet, Sofia turned back toward the bungalow, attempting to leave her god daughter some shred of dignity. "Come on in when you're ready, Darla. I'll put on some coffee and get a little breakfast started." And then she was gone.

Darla raised her hand to the ravages of her hair, and tried desperately to salvage her clothing. She was amazed. Even at her worst, Aunt Sofia still loved her. The knowledge filled her with a warmth she had never known, and with a dread she could not control. What would she do when she was gone again?

The incident that night should have helped Darla gain at least temporary control over her drinking problem, but alcohol had been her comfort and salvation for far too long to abandon it now in her time of insecurity. Instead of fostering moderation, her apprehension over his departure became an excuse to intensify her indulgence.