Cole Johnson

"Ms. Faye? 'Dat you?" the booming voice said. Her eyes adjusted to see the sillouette fade into the image of Cole Johnson, one of the volunteers from the soup kitchen. Johnson was a tank of a man, which was fitting since he had driven one in the early days of the Vietnam War. He was incredibly menacing in his appearance with his black skin and barrel chested physique, but he always spoke with respect and appreciation. Faye scrambled to her feet, wrapping the dirty jacket around her.

"Come on in. Let's get you warmed up and some clothes." Johnson said, opening the door to the steps leading up to his apartment. Faye didn't know what else to do, so she meekly brushed her hair behind her ear, and started to walk up the steps. Johnson closed the door behind them, turning the lock with a quiet click.

His apartment would have been fine for a normal sized person, but everything looked tiny as me moved through it. It was clean if threadbare, save for a few toys scattered in front of the TV. "Grandkids come over. Never clean up after themselves." Faye saw their pictures hanging on the wall. They looked mixed.

"Is your wife..." Faye said, unable to stop herself before she saw the memorial pictures. Johnson's wife had been a lovely white woman with strawberry blonde hair and twinkling eyes. Cole's face beemed in the pictures they shared. Faye couldn't help but smile.

"Ten years now. Cancer." He said, pouring her some coffee. Faye sat at the kitchen table, the wooden chair cold against her skin. She sipped her coffee as he left the room for a moment before returning with a lovely navy blue sundress. "Here you go. Shower is in there. Towels in da' drawer."

"Thanks. I don't even know what all happened..." she said, accepting the dress. Her smooth legs rubbing together as they slid from beneath the coat and into his vision.

"Well, you drunk, and naked 'cept for Freddie's jacket. I got a good idea." Faye blushed badly. She couldn't deny it, but she couldn't meet his gaze either. "You ain't the first girl he got with that bottle and grin. Now go get cleaned up. Bathroom is through the bedroom."

Faye wordlessly entered the bathroom, and slid the stained jacket off her shoulders. As she turned on the shower, she looked at her tossled hair in the mirror. She sighed, and stepped in the shower, washing the rut from her thighs.
The booze was wearing off slowly, and Faye could feel her well used, tender sex tingling from all the stimulation; as if the alcohol had suppressed the full response to it. She gingerly slid her fingers along her sex, and tried to make sense out what all had happened.

Meanwhile, Cole Johnson took a deep breath, and locked the door. It'd been a while. He grinned, wondering what he'd done to make the good lord smile on him so. He was nearly 70 years old, but the thought of Faye impaled on his thick, veiny cock put a spring in his step. He wondered if he should call the boys down at the VFW for old time's sake. They used to take turns on his wife, afterall...