It was a mistake. An act of pent up, desperate passion. Salina regretted it as soon as it was over. But now she was paying for it, over and over.
Her ex had dropped by. He made a move like he always did, and she started to deflect it, as she always did. But he looked especially good that day. Tall, fit, Latinx —like herself, very handsome. Women lusted after him. She was no exception. And she had been especially frustrated lately. Her poor husband, Paul, had tried and failed to get it up for weeks. In the end, he used his mouth to satisfy her. It had been fine. But she was aching for a proper fucking – something she really hadn’t had since she married her much older husband a year and a half ago.
And so, when Victor asked if he could take a dip in their pool, and then dove in naked, she had followed. With inevitable results. There was something about sex with an ex that made it O.K. Since she already had carnal knowledge of Victor, it seemed, somehow, less of a betrayal. She already had thoughts and memories of the man, what were a few more? And, sex with an ex was so easy. He already knew what turned her on; what made her cum. There was no warm up time. And there were no strings. An ex is an ex. There’s no going back. Except for dick, on occasion. It was just sex. Pure. Simple.
It was so stupid of her. But it was so good. After fooling around in the pool Victor had picked up Salina, thrown her over his powerful shoulders and carried her to the outdoor sectional that sat on the edge of the pool deck. The neighborhood was quiet. Her Arizona neighbors were mostly snow birds and it was August. No one could see over the yard wall. No one would hear. And so she allowed it to happen.
Victor dove into Salina with excitement. She was so pretty and sexy. That tight little body with the nice firm tits, narrow waist and firm round ass. Her body, so small, but so full and so fiery. The long black hair and matching dark eyes. The warm olive skin, and with the benefit of a private backyard, an all over tan. He ate her to orgasm and then fucked her in every position he could think of, resurrecting past images of her from their times together, compressing them all into this one hot session. Salina came violently, and often, as only she could, and with each one her ability to suppress her shrieks and groans diminished. They finished with Victor spread wide on the outdoor sofa, Salina licking his ass, balls and cock, until taking the long, thick shaft into her mouth and swallowing his familiar tasting seed.
Salina kicked Victor out as soon as she came to her senses. She picked her little boy up at school. She made her husband a delicious meal and sucked him off that night, out of guilt. The next day she was anxious to the point of constant distraction. What if someone saw or heard? And she felt guilty. Paul would be so hurt if he found out. And he has been so good to her, and to Alberto. A widower, twice her age, they had met at Church. He was so kind, so loving, so generous. What would she do without him? After a few days, though, the fear and guilt subsided. She even allowed herself to fantasize about Victor.
And then that first note arrived. She retrieved the mail and amidst the usual junk and bills was a simple, small envelope. It was unpostmarked and said simply, “Mrs. Davidson,” in block letters. Curious, she opened it as she walked back toward the front door, and when she saw what was inside she dropped all the rest of the mail onto the artificial grass.
It was a picture. Of her. And Victor. She was on all fours, her mouth agape, the muscled Victor fucking her from behind. She remembered the moment well. The envelope contained no note. Nothing but the photo. The image seemed to be taken almost from above, as if there was a second story house behind them. But there was no such thing.
Salina was panicked. Who had taken this?! What were their intentions?! Would Paul find out?!
The next day, there was another photo. This one of Salina riding Victor in cowgirl, her head thrown back and pinching her nipples. She remembered that moment, too. It had been a particularly spectacular orgasm. Again, there was no note.
On the third day, another envelope addressed to “Mrs. Davidson,” appeared in the mailbox. This photo was of Victor, legs akimbo, with his balls in Salina’s mouth. And this time, there was a note.
“Such lovely photos. Shame if Mr. Davidson was to see them. If you’d like to see the rest, come to the old Fire Station on Senora at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow. We have what you’ve been looking for.”
Salina was horrified. She should confess to Paul. She should call the cops. She worked up her courage to tell Paul that evening. But in the end, she could not. She did not want to hurt him. And she did not want to be out on the street with a young son.
The next morning she dropped Alberto at school and then went to the bank. She withdrew a few thousand dollars from Alberto’s college fund. She had no idea what they would ask; she just hoped this would be enough and that they would leave her alone. Whoever “they” were.
The old fire station had been there since the nineteen twenties, back when this part of town was a distant outcropping. An ornate five story tower topped a small station that never held more than two engines. Its purpose had been to watch for fire amidst the scrub farms and ranches that made up that part of the Valley back in the day. The city had swollen over the decades to consume everything within 360 degrees for hundreds of square miles — the fire station included. It had been unused for many years, but as a historical landmark, the City could neither knock it down, nor afford to redevelop it. Officially, it was still the jurisdiction of the Fire Department.
Her heart beating wildly, and her knees shaking, Salina walked up the short driveway of the station. She had been so distracted she had not thought of how to dress for a blackmail drop, and was in her usual heat of the summer walking around clothes: white shorts, a braless red camisole, Prada flats. Her long hair was in braids. She carried her big Louis Vuitton bag, with the small wad of bills buried in the bottom. Large Gucci sunglasses slid down her nose in the heat. She gulped as she knocked on the large wood door, covered in chipped red paint.
A very handsome, blond, forty-something man opened the door. He was in a tight blue t-shirt and sand colored work pants. “Salina,” he smiled. “Right on time. Come in.” Salina was not sure what she was expecting … guys in stocking masks maybe … or gang bangers … grease balls in bad suits ... but it wasn’t this guy. He led her through an entryway, past a small office, into a large open garage, complete with fire pole and an open wrought iron staircase. She pulled her glasses off and looked around, confused. “Please … “ he said, gesturing for her to take the stairs.
Salina was conscious that her pert ass was in his face as she nervously ascended the stairs. She could see that the staircase continued up into the tower, but when they came to a landing, the man said, “And turn to your right.”
Salina was immediately met by three other clean-cut guys. They looked like, well, firemen.
“Salina!” they all said in near unison.
Salina stopped. She was perplexed, and frightened, and she had to put a stop to it all. “Look, what the fuck do you guys want with me?! I’ve got some money, but not a lot. But please, please, I beg you, don’t show those photos to anyone else.” She was met with smiles and eyes darting around the room.
“Don’t be frightened, Salina. You are something of a hobby of ours,” said one of the guys, a tall buff redheaded guy.
“More of an object of worship,” said a bald black guy as he gestured to the wall.
There against the old stucco walls were perhaps a dozen photos of Salina. Just Salina. These were not taken the same day as when she was with Victor. They were shots of her sunbathing, skinny dipping, doing yoga, in her backyard, blown up to poster size. They had been taken over the course of weeks, if not months.
“I should fucking call the cops on you creeps!” Salina shouted.
“Well, you could,” said the blonde guy who had let her in. “But then Mr. Davidson would find out about that guy you fucked the other day. And besides … if you call the cops … the dispatcher is just going to send me out anyway.” Salina saw that his blue t-shirt had a Sheriff’s insignia on it.
“We don’t want to upset you,” said a slightly older guy with a salt and pepper crew cut. “And all the blame should be on me. You see, I’m a bit of an amateur photographer. I go up to the top of the tower with a telephoto lens. I’m into birds, mostly. But then I saw you. The prettiest bird of all. I couldn’t help but share you with the boys here. And when I was up there the other day, and saw you with that guy, it just seemed like it was destiny that we should meet.”
“You guys are fucking crazy. What the fuck do you want?!”
“Well,” said the black guy, “it’s like the Captain said, we just wanted to meet you. And see if … there’s anything we can do for you.”
“Look,” the Captain said, “We don’t want to scare or hurt you. We want you to be happy. That's all we want: for you to feel good. And if you’d like us to give you the photos we have of you and that guy and send you home, we’ll do that. I mean, I’d hold on to a few for safe keeping …but we won’t ask anymore of you. But based on what I saw the other day, I think, perhaps, we can offer you something more than what you’ve been getting lately.”
Salina was dumbfounded. Blood pounded in her ears. The room felt warm. She felt slightly dizzy. But she didn’t move. And she didn’t speak. They took her hesitation as affirmation. The redheaded guy pulled off his t-shirt. Salina’s eyes were drawn to his muscled chest and firm abs. The black guy followed suit. He was beefier than the redhead, but he too had sculptured muscles, accentuated by his smooth dark skin. Salina licked her lips involuntarily and her nipples stiffened.
I should get out of here. She dropped her purse instead. She couldn’t think straight. Her mind bounced from fear to shame to embarrassment to rage to lust. She swallowed. Her throat was bone dry. All the men proceeded to strip. Salina did not know where to focus. The men? The exit? They were all straight out of a beefcake calendar, and when they dropped their boxers, she realized they could have been out of a porno.
“How would you like to start, Salina?” asked the Captain. She looked around the room. There were a half dozen old twin beds with uncovered mattresses and metal frames. They looked gross. There was an old leather lounge chair. Also gross. At her feet was a red shag carpet area rug. Super gross. Why wasn’t she running for the stairs? She sank to her knees and the naked men clustered around her.
Once the first cock was in her mouth, Salina somehow became centered. There was only now. Only these cocks. Only her feelings of desire. There was no shame. No fear. She alternated among them, smiling to herself how she enjoyed the subtle differences in their size, shape, and taste. Saliva dripped down her chin onto her camisole. She pulled it over her head, revealing her tan, pert, 34Cs as the guys groaned in appreciation at the sight of them.
She was suddenly picked up and carried over to one of the beds. The mattress felt smoother and softer and cleaner than she had imagined. Someone tugged at her shorts, and she lay back and arched so they could pull them free. Her white lace thong quickly followed.
They stretched her out on the bed. One held her hands above her as the others showered her with kisses and licks. The Captain found her bare pussy with his mouth and moaned as he took in her smell and taste. A large cock appeared at her mouth and she took it in. Each nipple was suckled by one of the guys — one gently, the other roughly. She enjoyed the contrast. When the Captain inserted two fat fingers into her box, Salina started to cum. As she reached the absolute peak, she tried to twist and writhe away from the pleasure, but the boys held her firmly. The Captain kept at it until her body shook involuntary and she released the delicious cock in her mouth to scream.
“Oh my fucking god, this is so good!”
The Captain finally lifted his mouth from her mound and rose to enter her. Salina was so wet he slid in with a single thrust.
“Me first, boys, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, Cap’, but let’s change the angle so more of us can get at her,” said the blond cop.
The Captain gave him a high five and flipped Salina onto her belly before pulling her to her knees.
“Oh my god, look at that perfect ass,” he said as he re-entered Salina. The black guy and the blond knelt in front of her and she sucked one off while jacking the other. She suddenly was thirsty for cum. For now the cum would be only her’s though, as the redhead reached under to finger her clit while the Captain pounded her. She saw stars as another wave of contractions wracked her body.
She was cum drunk now. It was like being with Victor, only better. At least four times better. Every touch returned her to an orgasmic state. She knew nothing of her surroundings or who she was, other than a being hungry for more pleasure.
She was on top of the black guy now. His cock was especially thick, thicker than the Captain for sure, and it felt great as he angled into her from below. The Captain was in her mouth, his cock tasting of her own juice. The redhead was beside him. His cock was quite long and she could position him such that she could suck both him and the Captain at the same time. Their groans told her they didn’t mind. Where was the blond? She didn’t have to wonder for long.
“Where’s the lube?” she heard someone behind her ask.
“There,” was a quick answer.
Then she felt the unmistakable sensation of a warm tongue against her ass. Then some warm spit. Then a wet finger. The cock in her vagina quickened its thrusting. Another orgasm welled up inside her. She fought it off. She would try to wait until she was completely filled.
The cop’s dick was soon pressed against her backhole. "Feel good?" he asked.
She managed to utter an affirmative groan around the meat in her mouth. It had been a while. Paul never went for that. But Salina had enjoyed a good ass fuck now and then in her past, and she was hungry for it. She pushed out, helping the tip past the first ring of muscle. The cop pressed his cock further and after a momentary hitch, and a flash of pain, the head slipped fully past her sphincter. He moved a little too fast, and there was some more pain, especially with her vagina already full of thick black cock. The Captain sensed her discomfort and told the eager cop to slow down.
After a few minutes, though, everything was back in wondrous sync. With Salina loosened and lubed, and in an altered sexual state, the boys could change positions fluidly. Basically every time she came, that was the queue to switch it up. After perhaps twenty or more minutes of this, Salina had no sense of time, a crescendo finally rang out. The Captain, buried deep in Salina’s ass, could no longer hold his spunk.
“Oh fuck, Salina, you’re so goddam hot,” he groaned as his cock swelled inside her anus and he shot ropes into her bowels.
That set off the black guy, who moaned as he shot a huge salty nut into Salina’s mouth. The cop beneath her grunted as he soiled her married pussy, and then the redhead fired a load onto her face. The cop had to dodge the dollops that Salina couldn’t catch with tongue or fingers, though he didn’t seem to try that hard.
They disentangled themselves from her as she curled into a ball on the bare mattress. She felt glorious. She watched as the guys high fived one another, shared bottles of water, and tossed towels to one another to mop up the sweat. They spoke but she did not make out the words, until her orgasmic fog began to lift.
“So, Salina. Um...if you’re up for it. We could make this a regular thing. I mean we’d love it. But you don’t have to. You’ve earned whatever you...
