Chapter 36
Steve Falwell knelt by the frame of the rickety bed, his elbows
resting on the wool blanket that served as the mattress. His
eyes were closed as he was lost in prayer. The bed sat in the
corner of the hut that served as a church when the Padre came up
from the lowlands for his monthly visit to the village of Refugio
del Muerto. Falwell's stay at the village had been hard. His
presence had been grudgingly accepted among the predominately
catholic villagers. The people here were mainly peasants
scratching a living out of the jungle, or guerillas aiming to
extort money from the government by threatening the production of
iron ore form the surrounding hills. He had promised to send for
Rachel, but after his arrival he realized how dangerous a place
it was. It was best he had decided, that she remain in the safe
keeping of Padre Pietro. While he held the catholic faith in
contempt, seeing as a collection of outdated superstitions and
dogma held over from the middle ages, he thought that the
exposure to the teachings of another denomination would help in
furthering her education.
There were few women and many men in the village. There were the
wizen hags that seemed to be in every village square, begging.
The others were wives or whores or both. Not at all a place for
a young attractive anglo girl like his daughter. God forbid that
she be exposed to the leering lecherous stares that the local
women had to endure.
He pushed the thoughts from his mind as he immersed himself in
prayer, secure in the knowledge that a man of his benevolent god
watched over his oldest daughter.
After an hour of prayer, Falwell rose and left the hut and made
his way down to the stream that served as the villages water
source. He stripped to the waist and splashed water on his torso
to wash away the night sweat. He picked up his towel and as he
dried himself he noticed the dark haired girl standing quietly in
the small copse of trees to his right.
Roselita Cocho watched the handsome anglo her curiosity
overcoming her basic shyness.
The girl seemed to be his shadow, she followed him at a discrete
distance whenever he was about. When he asked about her, the
villagers had told him she had been orphaned at a young age by
the vagaries of life in the jungle. The girl eked out an
existence through the charities of the village. Always one step
ahead of those that would exploit her.
As he dried the girl stepped to the stream edge and pulled the
shoulders of her tattered peasant dress down to where it bunched
around her waist. Falwell watched as she bent to splash water
over her torso as he had done. Her pendulous brown breasts
capped by dark nipples attested to the indian blood that coursed
through her veins. He saw the patches of dark hair beneath her
arms as she splashed herself. His watching eyes saw her
prominent nipples pucker at the touch of the cool water as it ran
down her hanging breast to drip from the elongated tips.
His mind reeled in righteous indignation as he watched the girl
expose herself to his probing eyes. "Another typical indian
slut." he thought to himself with contempt. "She obviously is
not familiar with the word of god and his teachings on modesty
and chastity."
Before he could gather his things to give her privacy, the young
indian girl raised her dress, revealing a thick thatch of black
pubic hair. She thrust her bared hips forward and splashed a
cupped hand of water over the thick patch. She unashamedly ran
her middle fingers through the thick mat spreading her reddish
pink labia, cleaning herself.
Falwell's face crimsoned in a mixture of rage and embarrassment.
His mind filled with words " such as "slut", "shameless whore",
in his anger and self righteous rage he no longer saw the
innocent nudity of a young indian girl. Instead he saw the
mocking display of his faithless wife. No young girl shamelessly
bathing herself, but a taunting licentious display designed to
humiliate him. Seething, he hurridly gathered his things and
stomped off toward the village, the young girl looking bewildered
and confused in his wake.
Fighting to control his anger, he tried to ignore the tingling in
his groin as his penis began to engorge itself with blood. He
began to recite the Lord's Prayer to himself, but the vision of
the girl's lascivious display kept invading his thoughts like an
unwelcome serpent.
He rushed to the hut and hurried to the makeshift altar, bare
chested, the thick brown hair on his chest still beaded with
water. He knelt in desperate prayer, knowing this was yet
another test his Lord God was subjecting him to.
He knelt silently lost in prayer, drugged on the opiate of
sanctimonious righteousness. He saw himself risen above the
unsaved multitudes, lifted above the temptations and consequent
retributions meted out by his just and loving god. In his
zealous contentment, he could not see beyond the serene bearded
mask, to see the vengful hateful face of the being that ripped
nursing babes from their mother's breasts with dripping fangs.
The eyes of his god watched with glee, this world of his that was
nothing more than a death machine. It's creatures suffering pain
and death so that others might live. The strong subjugate the
weak, the meek mere toys for the domineering.
Falwell jumped at the touch against his chest. Looking down he
saw a brown arm connected to the hand caressing the thick mat of
hair on his chest. His eyes followed the arm to his right and
met the smiling face of the young indian girl. Close up he saw
that she was the age of his own daughter, no more than 18 years.
Her half lidded brown eyes were soft pools in a copper face
framed by a wealth of straight black hair. The smooth high
cheeks topped the soft line of her jaw, forming a graceful oval
before meeting at her small cleft chin. Her nose was fine and
flawless hintingly flared, a tribute to her indian blood. Her
lips were turned up in a faint smile, revealing strong white
teeth. The upper edge of her full lip curled into a perpetual
pout casting a sexy shadow above her upper lip. Her eyes flitted
between his face and her hand now entwined in the hair of his
chest.
He suddenly realized he was the first anglo man she had ever
seen, the hair on his chest was a revelation to her. She played
with the hair on his chest, the little little soldiers moving
farther down his chest and stomach. He felt the hot flush of
arousal seep through him. The despised throbbing in his groin
had returned with a vengance. His arms lay frozen in their
posture of supplication, his clasped hands unable or unwilling to
stop the girl's inquisitive probing fingers.
The trusting affection in the girl's face was obvious. He half
turned toward her, the the beguiling smile on his thin lips
screening the conflict within him. "Here was an innocent child
of god," his mind said one instant, the next she was a wanton
godless slut, bent on seducing him. She was the picture of
unspoiled innocence, no, she was a calculating whore like his
ex-wife, bent on humiliating him.
His eyes darted between the innocent features of her face the the
quivering globes of her full breasts barely concealed by her
tattered dress.
Fuming hatred ate at the thin veneer of Christian love he had
used as a plaster to cover the festering wounds inflicted on him
not too long ago. He raised his hand and touched the girl's
cheek, she giggled at his touch. The laughter rang like an echo
of his faithless wife's laughter at his horror as he watched her
tongue her lover's cock, still slick with her own secretions.
His hand brushed past her cheek and entwined itself in her thick
black hair and wrenched her head back with a snap. The look of
amused affection was replaced by one of surprised horror as his
smiling lips turned into a snarl.
"You fucking whore, you're just like all of them. Using pretty
smiles and soulful eyes to lead us on, to humiliate us. "You
want to play, I can play," he said as his used his free hand to
rip open the frightened girl's tattered dress.
The old fabric tore easily ripping from neck to hem and gaped
invitingly. The girl's torso bent back in a graceful bow by the
pressure of his hand tangled in her hair. The flat bare expanse
of her chest and stomach lay beneath his gaze, her full breasts
separating heavily on her chest. He ran his free hand over the
soft brown mounds feeling the dark brown nipples harden under his
touch.
Seething with rage he ignored the girl's sobbing whimpers as he
dragged her to the corner of the room and pushed her to her knees
by the bed. Her bewildered face looked up at his, catching only
glimpses around the strong arm that held her head captive, hand
entwined in her thick hair. Her full brown breasts jiggled and
swayed as her breath came in panicked gasps as her wide brown
eyes watched the anglo man unfasten his trousers with his free
hand. Fear bubbled to the surface as the young girl began to
whimper and sob.
Falwell tightened his grip on her hair as he heard the sob, the
rigid pole of his cock throbbed as he felt an awful power course
like a foul contaminant through his veins. He sadistically
twisted the girl's hair as he raised his arm, pulling her face
closer to his groin.
Roselita's stomach convulsed at the sight of the rigid pale rod
that thrust from the nest of brown hair between his thighs. The
young girl sobbed as her eyes stared at the clear fluid that
leaked from the tiny wordless mouth that cut the surface of the
reddish plum atop the thick white stalk. Bile rose in her throat
as she watched it grow like some loathsome snake, dripping venom
as it slithered closer to her trembling lips. In her terror she
saw the thick blue veins wrapping its surface pulse as it grew
more larger feeding on her fear as the man tasted his abject
power.
"This is what you really wanted. Isn't it you fucking puta!" he
hissed as he drew her tear stained face closer to his cock.
His blood seethed as he felt total control, he reveled in the
fear that wrote itself in the girl's face. No hymn sounded
sweeter to his ears than the tearful whimpers and sobs that tore
themselves from the young girl's throat.
Fisting his cock with his free hand, he guided it to the girl's
full trembling lips. He glossed their soft fullness with the
stagnant ocher that leaked from his pious balls. He mashed the
firm softness of his cock head against the white barrier of the
girl's teeth, dragging it along as a child would a stick along a
picket fence. Her lips and cheeks distorted as he scrubbed the
thick invader back and forth, reveling in the sensation of warmth
and wetness as her unwilling lips caressed the sensitive head.
The young indian girl gagged as she felt the thick knob slide
across her teeth and the taste of the gross slime assaulted her
senses. She forced her tongue against the bulwark of her teeth
in an attempt to reinforce the ivory barrier.
Tiring of the game, Falwell brutal twisted the girls head up and
back, breaking the seal of her jaws as he threatened to tear the
fist full of hear from her skull.
"Aw-w-w-w-w-w-h!!" she sobbed against the pain forgetting for an
instant the crudgel of flesh that lurked at her lips. Falwell
thrust his hips forward as he drew the girl's unresisting head to
his groin. His hard shaft of swollen flesh slid between
Roselita's parted lips, her teeth scraping down it's pulsing
length. The poor girl struggled for breath as the plum like knob
bulled past her epiglottis and lodged in the back of her throat.
Her slight frame was wracked with heaves as she gagged in
response to the thick invader. Her writhing form hung like a
fish impaled on a spear. Her arms and legs flailed pitifully as
she was rendered powerless by her for air and her bodies
involuntary efforts to expel the foreign invader nesting in her
throat.
Falwell held the flailing girl's head in a vice-like hold as he
pulled her head tightly to his groin, his upper body hunching
over in effort.
"M-m-m-m-m-m-m_h, don't fight it bitch!" he spat as he ground
his hips tighter against the unresisting girl's face.
The young girl felt blind panic as her vision was blotted out by
the tight flesh of the man's stomach. The coarse hair of his
groin pricked her nose as the thick shaft forced her jaws apart
as it slither into her convulsing throat. Unable to breath she
pushed against his steely legs in futile protest. Her brain
screamed in protest as she fought against the mindless heaving as
her throat struggled to expel the merciless shaft.
Her mouth ran rivulets of drool warming and caressing the thick
pole as she calmed enough to breath through her nose, and her
throat grew accustomed to it's new tenant.
He held his thick cock imbedded in the girl's throat until he
felt her struggles subside. Her small hands rested on his flanks
and the faint breath from her nostrils caressed his groin.
With a groan of satisfaction he drew his hips backward breaking
the tight seal with a wet "smacking" sound. He drew his dripping
cock back to where the swollen knob lay against the tip of the
girl's tongue. As slow thrust drove the shaft home again as the
girl knelt, her lips parted in unresisting welcome.
