Have a nice chat

You roll down the window an inch, as Mary tries to cover up, but you don't allow her to stop. "Can I help you, Kevin?" Sandhill is small, and you more than knew the entire police ****.

"I didn't realize it was you, Omar. Miss Bell." He nods to your presently penetrated paramour. "Will you be long? There's alot of families camp in these woods, and while you can do what you will, I don't know if it's appropriate in such a public place. I may have to arrest Ms. Bell for public indecency if you keep it up."

You laugh. "Wouldn't that be something, darling," you pull her arms away from her chest, exposing her bosom to the officer. "I **** you, and you get sent to jail!" She looks at the officer, scared. "I-it's not ****. B-but he did order me to have sex with him here. I don't want to go to jail."

"I don't want that either," said Kevin Keating, his gaze at her chest barely hidden behind reflective sunglasses. "Just hurry up, Omar, and I'll stand watch."

You laugh and continue to coax her into active fucking again. The power of it all was enough to finally coax your built-up sperm and you grip her tight and explode into her.

You're both a sweaty mess, as she peels herself off of you and leaks various excretions onto her dad's nice interior upholstery. Still breathing heavily and completely nude, she turns to you and gives you your first smile. "Is that going to be it, sir?"

"Not by a long shot," you say. "You're mine." Her smile goes away. After getting as dressed as best she could, Mary starts the Rover and the air conditioning. She pulls out and you wave goodbye to Kevin. "Let's go to your place, darling. I want to meet your folks."

"No, please! They can't know about this." You drag the wheel over and she avoids slamming into a tree as she brakes the car and puts it into park. You grab her throat and whisper into her ear. "They will know everything, bitch. And we're going to show them the new world order."

She sobbed as you released your grip, noting the red bruising that slowly fades away. "Besides," you say, your hand resting on her thigh, "your mom's pretty hot."

The sun was setting when she finally pulled up to the house and puts the car in park. You quickly take the keys and get out of the car. Mary is frozen, not wanting to face reality, and doesn't move an inch as you make your way to her side. You open the door and fiddle with her seatbelt, pulling her upright as soon as she is free.

Twisting her arm, she drags almost behind you as you approach the front door up the wheelchair ramp. You could sense the residents peering at you through the windows, word of Mary's abduction having spread throughout town. And lo and behold, the good Reverend Bell is standing at the now open doorway.

"So it's true," he says, with seething hatred. "I hope you had a laugh and a half with Mary. Now begone. Go fuck some teenagers at the mall or something."

You smile at the Southern Baptist Reverend who refused to serve your family when they first moved to this town fourteen years ago. "Dad!" you yell, hugging the tall gray-haired white man, almost as tall as you.

"Get off me!" he yells, shaking you loose. "You got what you wanted, now go away!"

In the confusion, Mary slipped behind her father, and was instinctively hiding behind the protective figure. You find yourself momentarily alone, standing in the doorway by yourself as Bell reaches to close the door. You push through him before he can react.

"Nice place you have here," you say, looking at some family photos, bible quotes, and an odd collection of white teacups. "Get out!" Bell says. "You're trespassing. I'm legally allowed to shoot you." He starts sliding towards what appears to be a gun safe.

"Calm down, pops. I'm here to fuck your daughter and your wife, per the Reparations Act." You hold your hands up in a protective gesture, thinking things may have gone too far.

"You wouldn't?!" The Reverend doesn't want to give up his wife, too. "I mean, that's fine and legal, but you can't stay here. This is private property."

"Section 14. Article II. During the pilot program, the subject is allowed to enter private abodes or secured facilities when he has a belief that a woman of Caucasian heritage is hiding herself from his rightful reparative actions. This shall be done without warrant or higher authority, unless countervened by later stipulation from the Congress of the United States."

Bell stands stern-faced as you recite verbatim the text of the act. "In other words, Father, I can go wherever the fuck I want."

"Andrew? Do we have company?" asks a voice from the adjacent room. Mrs. Bell, a slightly younger woman than the Reverend of about 42, twice your age, wheels into view. "Oh my" she says, as she spots you standing in the foyer, in the face of her husband as her eldest daughter stands behind him, cowering in fear. She gulps as you turn to her and smile from ear-to-ear.