The Ramon Vargas Affair

"Nooooo, please," she gasped, twisting her neck around to look up at him, imploringly, "not my ass!" He was just finishing liberally coating his veiny erection, with some sort of lubricating cream.

He grinned, mercilessly, but before she could beg any more, her head was jerked painfully around to the front again, and her eyes opened wide, as a huge, throbbing ebony penis, was thrust up against her lips. "Suck it, bitch!" growled a low voice.

She looked up, through tear-blurred eyes, at the powerful figure of Abraham Morgan, the only Negro in the room, and the mob representative from Birmingham, Alabama.

"I said suck my cock, bitch!" he growled, gripping her nose tightly.

"Aahhh!" Rita exclaimed, but as her lips parted, he thrust forward, forcing his way past her even, white teeth, deep into her mouth.

"Mmmmuuunnngghh!" Rita gasped, jerking forward, and taking a further two inches of Morgan's fat shaft, as Mallone overcame the tight resistance of her clenched anal sphincter, and thrust into her, from behind.

"Nnnnnggghhh!" The pain was unbelievable, as Scarface thrust again and again, gradually embedding more and more of his hard cock into her tight anal passage, with each powerful grunting thrust. She felt as if she were being torn in two, and felt sure that she was going to be permanently damaged, by his ferocious, animalistic attack.

Abe grabbed her ears, pulling her into his crotch, forcing his shaft down her throat, as she struggled for air, and tried not to gag. "They are going to kill me!" she though, fearfully!" as wiry pubic hairs, brushed against her nose, and her nostrils flared, at the smell of animal heat, coming from his crotch. Thankfully, the black man withdrew his shaft from her throat, and she gratefully sucked in some much-needed air, just as the ass-bandit completed his entry, with a final, painful thrust.

"Aauuuggghhh!" She cried out in pain, automatically rocking forward, and going down on the Negro's penis, once again.

"Oh, yeah, babe, that's it, blow my mind!" Morgan cried, rocking his pelvis forward, to ensure she took in every bit of his pulsating meat. Rita swallowed, desperately, trying not to vomit, as he slid down her constricting throat.

The Chicago gangster drew back, panting from his exertions, leaving just his dark, swollen glans inside her anus, before thrusting forward again. The girl gave a muffled groan, but he entered her more easily this time, as her ass-hole began to adapt to his cock, the anal muscles clamping tightly about his throbbing shaft. "Fuck me, babe!" he panted, gripping her hips tightly, as he began to move in and out of her deliciously tight ass.

Despite the pain, Rita began to thrust back against the invading monster, as gradually the feeling of pain, turned to one of pleasure. At first, she was unaware of this subtle change, as she concentrated on going down on the black man's dick, and sucking in huge lungfuls of air, at every opportunity.

Soon, both men where grunting from their efforts, as they built up a steady rhythm, using Mallone's powerful penetrations, to force the black man's cock deep into the girl's deliciously tight throat, as she rocked forward, on her hands and knees.

Rita was finally beginning to take some pleasure from her double-fucking, as the pain slowly subsided, and she felt the old, familiar sensations, bubbling up from the pit of her belly. She started to gasp about the tightly constricting cock, her breath coming in short, sharp pants, her lovely breasts swaying in time with Mallone's fucking, her nipples standing out, hard and throbbing. Hands moved beneath her, whose, she had no idea, and began playing with her aching breasts? Her eyes had been squeezed tightly shut, ever since Mallone had entered her! She no longer prayed for it to end, she wanted it to go on forever!

With a loud guttural groan, Abe came in her mouth, his hot semen spurting out of the end of his fat knob, in thick, creamy gobs, splattering against the back of her throat. He stopped thrusting, and allowed her to gulp down his cum, and to suck his cock dry, a self-satisfied smile on his chubby face.

"Trouble with you niggers, you ain't got no stamina!" Mallone panted, glancing over at the black man, as Abe's cock slipped out from between the girl's cum-covered lips. "Ooooh Jesus!" With a final shuddering thrust, he climaxed, and shot his load into the girl's rectum.

"Aaaaahhhh!" Rita gasped with pleasure, cum still dribbling from the corner of her lovely mouth, as she felt his hot semen splatter into her ass-hole, and she thrust back. "Don't stop lover! Fuck me, fuck meeee!" she cried, squirming her ass against his muscular thighs.

Scarface grinned, and resumed his thrusting, but more leisurely now, until his spurting cock finally ran dry, and started to soften and shrink. "Some of you sluts ain't never satisfied!" he panted, as his penis slipped, wetly, from her oozing rear passage, and she mewled with disappointment. He gave her a friendly slap on the buttock, as he stepped back. "Who's next?" he asked, looking around.

-oOo-

Chris walked across the lobby, towards the reception desk, lugging his heavy suitcase along, beside him. A tall, buxom, platinum-blonde receptionist was watching his approach, a slight smile of amusement, on her red lips. "Can I be of assistance, Senor?" she asked, flashing her even, white teeth, and leaning forward, so he could get a better look at her two major assets.

"Er, yes... I would like a room for the night, please!" he replied, dropping his case, with a sigh of relief.

"Does the Senor have a reservation?"

"Er, no! I had no time to book in advance," he replied, with an apologetic shrug.

"Hmm, we are usually fully booked, at this time of the year," she murmured, looking through the bookings ledger in front of her, "but the American Senor is very fortunate, we have a last-minute cancellation! If you would just sign your name here?" She handed him a pen, and indicated where she wanted him to sign.

"Thank you!" He scrawled his signature on the ledger. "I hear you have a Senor Ramon Vargas staying here?" he murmured. "I am an old friend of Senor Vargas," he quickly added, as he saw the look of distrust appear on the girl's face. "I thought I might look him up, while I am in your beautiful city! What room is the Senor staying in?"

"Senor Vargas's suite is on the sixteenth floor," the blonde replied, coolly, "but he is not in residence, at the moment! He checked out, some ten days ago!"

"Oh? Then perhaps you could tell me where he has gone?" Chris asked, all wide-eyed and innocent. "I would hate to miss my old friend, during my short stop-over in your country!"

"I am afraid I am not privy to that information, Sir!" the girl replied, her manner now distinctly frosty.

"Well, er, thank you anyway... ah, Evita!" Chris replied, reading her name from the breast pocket of her lightweight jacket, and giving her a disarming smile. "If I may have my key, now, I'd like to go to my room, and freshen up a little!"

"Certainly, Mr., ah... Lorenzo," she replied, looking at his name in the register. "I hope you enjoy your stay here?" The blonde handed him his room key, then snapped her fingers. A young bellhop came running over. "Take the Senor's luggage up to room 1217," she snapped, imperiously, with a flick of her long, blonde locks.

"Oh, by the way," Chris asked, turning back to her, as he was about to follow the uniformed boy to the elevators, "was Senor Vargas accompanied by a striking young lady, with chestnut-colored hair and green eyes?"

Evita glanced up, sharply. "That is correct!" she said, brusquely.

Chris' heart leapt with joy. His darling Rita was still alive! He could hardly wait to phone Cap, and tell him the good news!

-oOo-

Having found out the number of Vargas's private suite, earlier, from the friendly, talkative bellhop, Chris slipped out of his room, a couple of hours later, wearing a pair of old jeans, sneakers, and a sweat-shirt. He slipped through the swing doors, into the emergency stairwell, and quietly crept up to the sixteenth floor. "Vargas may not be here," he muttered to himself, "but he may have left some incriminating evidence, in his suite, or clues to Rita's whereabouts?"

He quickly located the door, and pulled out a small leather case, containing his burglary tools. After checking that the coast was clear, he slipped a lock-pick into the keyhole, and began to twiddle it about. After a couple of minutes, their was a faint click, and he gently eased the door open. He was breaking half the rules in the book, he realized, but where Rita was concerned, it was well worth it!

Chapter 13: That Morning After Feeling

Rita arose early the next morning. It had been the first night she'd been allowed to sleep alone, without being chained to the bed, since she'd arrived at the plantation, but despite a hot shower, before retiring for the night, she still ached all over, and she still felt dirty, after all the perverted sexual acts she'd been forced to perform with the drug czar's guests. She also had a pounding headache, no doubt due to a combination of the alcohol she'd been plied with, and the aphrodisiac drugs, that Vargas had been administering, without her knowledge?

She decided she needed some fresh air.

During her exploration of the surrounding area, Rita had discovered a small, but delightfully pretty waterfall, that fed a secluded swimming hole, on the far side of the airstrip, hidden by the trees about the base of some low cliffs. She decided to go for an early morning swim, and she unclipped her dog-tag and slipped on a clean pair of panties and a terrycloth bathrobe, before picking up a large bathtowel and exiting the bedroom.

There were relatively few people about at 6:00 am, and she ignored the curious stares she received from the patrolling guards, as she painfully made her way across the small grassy clearing, that served as the airstrip, and entered the tree line, following a narrow, animal trial that she'd discovered earlier. Her poor ass-hole hurt like blazes! It had been well reamed by the whole of the company, including Ramon, the previous evening, and felt incredibly wide and stretched. She was amazed that she hadn't suffered any permanent damage. Her tits and pussy throbbed painfully, too, but they had become used to regular abuse. She flinched, as she rotated her aching jawbone. "If I never have to give another blow-job, it won't be too soon!" she muttered to herself.

After walking about a hundred yards along the trial, the trees thinned out, and she entered a small clearing, containing the large rock pool. A small waterfall cascaded down the rock face, into the cool, clear water, the noise of the cascading water, music to her ears.

After carefully looking around, to check that no-one had followed her, she slipped off the robe, and wriggled out of her panties, hanging both garments, together with the towel, over a nearby low tree branch. She gasped, from the initial chill, her nipples peaking, as she wadded out into the clear water, up to the tops of her thighs, before taking a deep breath and plunging in, head-first, and starting to swim, lazily, across the pool, towards the tumbling spray.

"Mmm, this feels sooh good!" she thought, lazily, as she turned over on her back, letting the warm, early-morning sunlight, fall on her face and shoulders, as she did a leisurely dog-paddle.

-oOo-

From the concealment of a nearby clump of dense undergrowth, the man watched the naked girl, filled with a complex mixture of emotions. He focused his compact, 35 mm camera, and took another couple of candid snaps of the naked girl. When he'd arrived here, the last thing he'd been expecting to see, was a naked nymph! The girl was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, with a face and figure that most men would gladly die for.

"What is she doing here?" he wondered. She was obviously not a native Colombian, but a Caucasian, probably North American or European. He edged forward, a little, to get a clearer view of her naked charms. The undergrowth he was concealed in, grew from the sparse earth, some four-feet above the water, with a steep, rocky drop into the pool, so he already had an excellent observation point.

She paused, and stood up in the clear, shallow water, which just came up to her slim waist, and ran her hands through her wet hair, pushing it back from her eyes, and squeezing out the surplus water, as she peered around cautiously. "Had she heard something?" he wondered, becoming motionless.

"God, she's a real stunner!" he murmured to himself, as he took another couple of shots. She had a straight back and narrow waist, with wide, square shoulders, and firm, rounded breasts, with large dark areolae. Her erect nipples stuck out, a good half-inch. Her face was that of an angel, with large green eyes, snub nose, and a full, intensely kissable mouth. Her wet hair fell to her shoulders, and looked to be dark-brown in color.

He leant forward, to take another photograph, and suddenly found himself loosing his balance, and toppling forward, as the ground seemed to give way beneath him.

"Whooooaahh!" he exclaimed, as he toppled forward into the pool, with a loud splash. Somehow, he had the foresight to hold his camera aloft, as he momentarily disappeared beneath the surface, then came up gasping and spluttering.

-oOo-

Rita heard the rumble of falling stone, and crack of snapping vegetation, an instant before the loud splash, and she jerked her face up from her examination of her sore breasts, to see a red-headed white man, surface at the far side of the large pool, spluttering and gasping for breath. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and clutching a camera, held high above his head.

She immediately sank down in the water, until only her head and shoulders were visible, above the surface. "Who the fuck are you?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her breasts, defensively.

"Shit!" the man swore, in English, minutely examining his camera, and totally ignoring her. "Shit, shit, shit!"

"I asked you who the fuck you were, brother?" Rita snapped, angrily. "I only have to scream, to bring armed guards running!"

He turned his gaze on her, seemingly acknowledging her presence for the first time. "Please don't do that!" he murmured, calmly. "If you do, my life expectancy will probably prove to be very short! Your boss won't take kindly to someone snooping around his place!"

"My boss?" she asked, blinking in sudden confusion.

"Yeah, Vargas!"

"Ramon's not my boss, I'm his hostage!" The handsome young man's eyebrows shot up, at her words. "Anyway, you still haven't told me who you are, or what you're doing here, yet?" she snapped, eyeing him suspiciously.

He grinned, visibly relaxing, which was more than you could say for her. "My name's Banjo, Banjo O'Rafferty," he replied, wading over towards her. "Nice to meet you!"

"Don't come any closer, Banjo O'Rafferty, or I shall scream," she warned, holding up the palms of her hands, as he got within about ten-feet of her.

He grinned, as her breasts inadvertently popped up above the surface of the water. "I'm a free-lance photographer," he continued, waving his camera at her, apparently as some sort of confirmation of his words.

"So, you thought you'd pop along to see if you could get a few pin-up pictures of me, for Playboy Magazine, huh?" she said, sarcastically, not believing a word. "Try pulling the other one, buster, it's got bells on it!"

"I wouldn't mind pulling either one," he replied, with a grin, his gaze dropping to her dripping breasts, and their prominent, pink crests.

Rita blushed, and squatted a little lower in the water. "Don't get any bright ideas, O'Rafferty!" she warned.

"Okay, okay, keep your knickers on!" He grinned. "Oh, sorry, I forgot... you aren't wearing any, are you?"

Rita ignored this witticism. "So, what are you doing, sneaking around here then?" she demanded, stone-faced.

"I was trying to get a few candid shots of Vargas's cocaine operation, for an article in 'Time-Life Magazine'," he replied. "I only arrived here an hour or so ago, but I've already taken a couple of rolls of film. This stuff is gonna be dynamite, when it's published!"

"If it ever does get published!" she retorted. "Chances are you'll be dead, before the sun sets, O'Rafferty!"

"Call me Banjo!" he said, grinning.

She couldn't help but smile. That big stupid grin of his was infectious. "Why do they call you Banjo?" she asked.

"'Cause, when I was younger, I used to play in an Irish Folk Band!" he replied.

"And you played the banjo?"

"No, the violin!" he said, with another grin.

She sighed. "Ask a silly question..."

"Now, how about telling me a bit about yourself?" he said, still grinning. "How come you're a hostage here?"

She returned his smile, glad of the friendly face. "My name's Rita Lance, Detective Sergeant Rita Lance, of the Palm Beach Police Department!"

Banjo's eyebrows shot up. "A little bit off your normal patch, aren't we Sergeant?" he queried, with a chuckle.

She screwed up her face, before explaining further. "I was working undercover for the FBI, as this little tramp, name of Lola Pagoda, when..."

"Lola Pagoda?" he interrupted, with a chuckle. "Who thought that one up?"

"Do you wanna her the rest of this, or what?"

"Okay, okay, Lola, carry on with your story!"

"Unfortunately, I got caught with my fingers in his safe, trying to get my hands on some vital information about his North American drug dealings!"

"How come you're still alive then?" Banjo asked, with a small frown. "I'd have thought you were dead meat, once he discovered who you were?"

"He decided to keep me alive, as insurance, in case anything went wrong, while he made good his escape from the States, and for his own, ah, personal amusement!" She blushed a deep pink at these last words, and refused to meet his gaze.

"His own personal amusement, huh?" Banjo repeated, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yeah, now turn around, you big lummox, while I get outta this pool, and into my togs!" Rita snapped, angrily, blushing with acute embarrassment.

"Sure!" He turned his back to her, as the girl wadded over to the bank, and started to dry herself on the large bathtowel.

"So," he mused, "she was having to supply Vargas with certain, ah, sexual favors, in order to stay alive? The poor bitch was living on a knife edge. At any time, Vargas might decide she was too expensive a luxury to keep around, and have her bumped off!"

He turned around, just as she was wriggling her way into her tiny panties, and felt his dick stir, at the sight of her neatly trimmed beaver. "You realize you're in great danger, don't you, lady?" he exclaimed.

Rita glanced up, angrily, as she finished pulling the panties up over her hips. "Not half as much as you are, O'Rafferty, if you don't keep your goddamn eyes off of my ass!" she snapped, her green eyes flashing.

"It wasn't your ass I was looking at, particularly," he replied, with a grin, as she started to pull on her bathrobe.

She paused, with it half on, as a sudden thought struck her. "Hey, how the hell did you get into this place, anyway, O'Rafferty? The plantation is surrounded by an electric fence, and swarming with armed guards!"

"Down the river! I have a small motorboat, concealed about a half mile upstream!"

"Jeeezzz!" Rita rolled her eyes up to the heavens. "Thank you Lord!" she exclaimed. She turned her lovely green eyes back to the Irishman, as she finished belting up her robe, much to his chagrin. "How about tryin' to get us both outta here, in one piece, Banjo?" she murmured, giving him a sultry look.

"But I haven't finished my photo-shoot yet!" he protested.

"If you stay much longer, I can guarantee that you're gonna end up as buzzard bait!" she said, suddenly deadly serious. "I can make it well worth your while," she added, stepping over to him, and bending forward to plant a light kiss on his lips, whilst her other hand stroked the bulge in the front of his wet pants. Please, Banjo?"