The Housewives Of Coxville County Part 5 free porn video

Chapter 4 The Strange Case of Mr. Brooks. Anya's Story



There was blood on the sun the day he came to town. blood on the sun,
because the townsfolk could find no more fitting an idiom to describe the
state of it. From that first sign of dawn til that evening's sunset - and
then for just a few minutes longer than dusk normally permitted - the big
bright orb that hovered over the vast stretch of land that was Coxville
county was splotched, saturated with a most peculiar shade of crimson. A
thick coating of red that encapsulated the perfect sphere, and as a result,
gave the entire town's skyline a low and hazy tint, as though it were stuck
in a permanent blush just above the earth. A queer phenomena, which to the
town's inhabitants went noted as one of the strangest and most
unprecedented acts of nature ever to occur in the small southern community.
One of the strangest to be sure...but certainly not the first to occur in
the region.



Anyone outside the boundaries of the southern town who may have been at
all curious or inclined to gaze up at the sky on that day, would have been
either disappointed or (more likely)indifferent to find that the great
circle from their position hung and shone in its normal shape and hue.
Nothing at all out of the ordinary, and to the rest of the human population
residing on its side of the globe in which sun held sway at that time, it
was just a typical day filled with routine deeds under a mundane blue sky.
The big red ball and the aberrant cloak that came in effect was only
viewable from within the secluded boundaries of Coxville County. And
neither meteorologists, local historians, nor living witnesses of the event
has recorded or agreed to give any sort of commentary to outsiders about
that day, much like how they've done in the past with other interesting
affairs pertaining to the land.

It didn't mark the sign of anything notably exciting after all...outside
of a new resident coming to town that is. It loomed there, large, round
and uncommonly viewable in a cloudless space as a small caravan of trucks
approached. Led by a long, sleek and immaculate looking jet black limo
sedan, the line of automobiles traversed the roads after passing the
neighboring lands of Coxburg, which resided north of the I-69, before
leading onward into town. It passed Lake Cox at close to mid-day, the
remains of the long abandoned settlement which once stood there still
perceptible, even from afar. The dust plume that came in its wake caused
local wildlife to stir and seek cover from the passing cavalcade from their
exposed positions of lily pads, bare rock faces, and clearings in the open
grasslands.

It passed the rural farmlands and gleaning fields in an aggregation of
humming engines not long after. Eventually the rural areas of nature and
wildlife disappeared, and the line of vehicles passed into the stretch of
cracked and long unattended concrete streets of more populated areas of
Coxville. An urban settlement modeled with the various architectural
styles and pathways of New Orleans. The land was known locally as N-Town,
an area predominantly inhabited by the county's African-American
inhabitants. The precession gathered a host of onlookers, curious parties
consisting of the old, middle aged, and the young. A few of the c***dren
playing in the streets pointed fingers at the driven march, all the trucks
emblazoned with the company logo "We-Haul" on the broad side. And their
gazes never failed to settle on the one vehicle in particular that was
leading the trek.



The sedan drove at a steady pace down the main street, a broad vein of
cracked sidewalks and weary pavement through the town proper, known
publicly to its local residents and uttered (in hushed tones privileged
with separation) by their uptown neighbors as "Nigger Town". The N-Town
residents watched in a mix of curiosity, excitement, and a fair few less
than approachable faces holding hostility in the moment the black vehicle
passed them. Looks varied between faces of men, women, c***dren, and the
elderly. All of them the colors of deep ebony, caramel and varying shades
of brown. Even from a far distance away, and despite the reflective
surface of the tinted windows giving not even the smallest clue to the
identity of sedan's driver or possible passengers, they knew they were
being watched from the inside of the vehicle. They could feel it in their
bones that whoever this newcomer was, this high collar big shot making a
big show of his arrival, he was well aware of their existence. And as they
drove by they knew whoever it was was appraising them from behind the pitch
black glass, drawing some unknowable conclusion about them.

When the caravan traversed uptown and into the greater area of Coxville
where it's predominantly non-black population dwelled, the response was
very much the same. Onlookers watched the precession of trucks - most
closely paying attention to the sedan - from their home windows, from in
front of their markets and underneath the awnings of various shops and
proprietary establishments. It was curiosity, excitement, and a few
glances hinting of apprehension when the black car drove by. And just like
the residents of N-Town, the Coxvillian community felt the gaze of the
vehicle's concealed driver/s. It was the same...yet with a single unspoken
element to a select audience. For many of the women of uptown Coxville --
a beautiful and healthy stock, bred of to what many cited as the highest
caliber to be found in the western world -- there were scant traces of
there being something...more hidden behind the veiled windows.

The unseen leer grabbed onto and played about with the women's senses,
and the symptoms silently teased them. Hairs suddenly stood on end for no
discernible reason. Heartbeats quickened despite the fact they were
strolling down the town's street at no more than a casual pace. The
slightest wave of anticipation spiked for the briefest of moments inside
their round and plentiful chests, which (for some unknowable reason)
suddenly grew goose flesh, causing their nipples to turn into tight pink
buds beneath their clothing.

It was the strangest thing, that was never spoken aloud nor made
reference to by those experiencing the phenomena. The event explored no
further to the casual distaff observer than that of a whimsical well that
was strange. blood on the Sun was what the Coxville folk called it, the
day he moved into town

...

"Now what in the Sam hill's all this?" asked Cletus McGuire, the
fifty-something year old convenience shop owner. He stood behind his
cashier's counter, an older Caucasian man with a round face and an even
rounder midsection.

"Looks like someone new's movin into town", replied Todd White from the
other side of the counter, a coke and a bag of chips in his hands. In
almost complete contrast to the proprietor of the shop, Todd was a tall,
handsome and athletically built young man. His chiseled facial features
slightly upturned in a look of curiosity flirting with smallest bit of
excitement as he and Cletus watched the mass of vehicles pass by the wide
circular shop window.

"Movin in?" said Cletus, obviously perplexed and unaware.

"You've been sittin behind that counter too long Cletus. You gotta get
out more" replied Todd, a faint sigh of disappointment held in his breath.

"I didn't hear anything about any new folks movin into Coxville, where
they headed?"

"Oh, it's only been the main buzz in town for a little over two months
now." Said Todd with a faint grin and only somewhat gloating on the info he
sat upon. Clearly the young man knew something the old man didn't, a small
display of power flexed before his elder.

"Don't be a wise ass. Some of us gotta work for a livin. Not all of us
get to bask in the glory of our youth" said Cletus, only somewhat
begrudgingly.

"They're headin to that new house", Todd yielded. "You know, the one
they been building on that hill overlooking city hall."

"Ah" barked Cletus in a slight recollection of the town notice that
there would be a busy construction crew doing various works on the land
nearer to the peak of town. He'd noticed it, but only in the most fleeting
of degrees. The man had a business to run after all. "They were building
a house there?" Cletus' earlier confusion now replaced with a tone of
surprise.

"Yeah..." said Todd, "You mean to tell me you didn't notice all the jack
hammering and pounding up the street for the last few weeks?"

Cletus pondered it for a bit. Sure he'd noticed, but again, the man had
a business to run. "Hell I noticed the construction boy" Cletus barked
while turning somewhat red with Todd's snark. "By the look and size of the
place I'd have just sworn they were making a new library or something."

"Nope, it's a house, a huge one too..." replied Todd with a light
chuckle, "apparently some big shot from outta state bought the land and
decided to make it the spot for his new estate. Few months back some fancy
suit contractors and a small army of builders rolled into town, been
working on it day and night ever since. Looks like they finally finished
it."

"Sheesh, all that fuss for some rich city prick tryin to settle into our
town? Probably just another tourist tryin to do something drastic to stir
up his friends."

"I dunno..." replied Todd a curious drawl. "Rumor is the owner has
roots here."

"Huh...how so?" said Cletus, now officially interested in the identity
of this new slick big city newcomer.

"I dunno exactly, but that's what I hear. Guys totally loaded too, I'm
talkin front page of Forbes and Fortune magazine loaded. What I did hear
is that his family history somehow goes back about as far as..." he paused,
trying to recall the exact year he'd heard. "I dunno, eighteen hundred
something..."

"You don't say?" replied Cletus, the fat white fingers of his right hand
stroking one of several of his chins. "Hmmm, now that got my ears perked
up... You know a lot of the families in Coxville been settled here since
the end of the 18th century?" Cletus straightened himself and grabbed at
the twin straps of his suspenders exclamatorily and with a beaming sense of
pride often found in denizens of the south. "Yep, includin yours truly,
you've had McGuires, Murphy's, Andersons, Summers and such livin in
Coxville for as far back as the end of the Mexican War. Startin from the
great war hero Phineas Cox himself, who was pretty tight with my family I
might a--."



"Yeah" interrupted Todd, trying to cut the history lesson at the root
before Cletus worked himself into a rhythm. "We learned all about that in
History class...must have been pretty exciting seeing things like cars and
paved roads getting built from nothing back then, eh Cletus?" teased Todd.



"Now what did I just tell you about bein a wise ass son?" grumbled the
round older man.



"Ha-ha, just k**din around with you Cleet."



"Yeah yeah...that'll be five bucks even Captain..." Shot Cletus,
referencing the chips and the soda sitting atop the counter.



"Five bucks?!" said Todd, somewhat astonished with the price. "You
raised the prices again?"



"Afraid so son, you know the economy's slaying us right now. The jokers
in the White House make up the rules, I just charge according to them."



"Sigh..." came the young man as he reluctantly reached into his wallet
and slapped a folded five dollar bill on the counter.



"Just call it a life lesson on the value of a dollar son." Said Cletus,
only a little condescendingly.



A minute later Todd and Cletus gave their goodbyes, and Todd White
sauntered his way out the door, making light as best he could being five
dollars poorer.



"You tell your daddy and that purdy mom a yours I said hello" called
Cletus.



"She's not my mom" snapped Todd just before the door of the shop closed
behind him.

...



"What a rip-off" grumbled Todd to himself as he took a swig of his soda
and made his way down the main street that led to his house. "The value of
a dollar? Psh yeah, guess he'd know, considering back in his day money
came in the form of sheep and coon skin caps."

Todd walked at an even pace down the streets and around the bends of
Coxville, the strange red sun looming above him in its preparation to
settle into evening behind the hills. The odd nature and hue was noted
only secondarily to the young man while in his frustration. Todd wasn't so
sore about the price of his items, as much as he was the biting nickname
Cletus had given him beforehand. Captain.



The nickname stabbed at Todd's nerves and grated at his pride. Cletus,
the old prick. He knew that Todd was still more than a bit sore at the
fact he'd just recently been replaced on his high school football team.
His team, the Coxville Cocks, was in the midst of what many natives called
ared hot winning streak. A winning streak that, much to Todd White's
immense dismay, was being led by not him, but by one Samson West. Todd's
teeth gritted as he tugged at the bag of chips. (Old prick) thought Todd
as he rounded the corner that led to the line of lavish suburban homes
making up the neighborhood he lived in.



Cletus knew that not long ago Todd had been passed over as team captain.
This happened not long at all after the Cocks, in a stunning upset victory,
had outright decimated their long-time rivals the Bartown Beavers. It was
a decisive win for Coxville high, though one that had left the now seething
Todd more than a little bit bitter. Todd hadn't quite believed it himself,
even when it was happening and his teammates hooted and hollered as they
lifted Samson onto their shoulders in celebration instead of him.
Admittedly the young man's mind, at the time, had been preoccupied
on...other triumphs that were supposed to have come to him that night. The
descriptive version being: the long anticipated and much sought after
victory blowjob Todd had been promised by his now ex-girlfriend Kitty
Summers. And therein lay the rest of the poison eating away at Todd White.
The young man's lost position on the team was only exacerbated by his being
dumped (like a hot rock) by the young smoking hot blonde cheerleader.
Kitty was - by official decree of both peers and the subtle nod of elders -
a total knockout. A little blonde bombshell whose stunning looks,
incredible athletic body and perfect round rack made her a prize piece in
Coxville in much the way Todd figured movie stars were in Hollywood.
Reminiscing on Kitty's beauty only swatted at a fresh wound. A wound only
made worse when word finally came to him that Kitty was now dating Samson,
his replacement, mere days after she'd unceremoniously dumped him. She
hadn't given him a reason, but Todd had his suspicions that Samson and
Kitty had made their coupling `more than official' even before the gossip
gaggle at school had even received a remote scent of the affair.



It beyond burned Todd up to think that those big round tits, taut bubble
butt and incredible mouth was likely being used freely by that jerk West.
They'd been - more or less - friendly to each other up to that point, even
if Samson was black. Their friendly rivalry on the field had made them
appropriately jovial to one another. But now all the competitive jeers and
aggressive one lines had turned to outright conflict between Todd and the
Negro. It was an insult that he just couldn't bring himself to let go of.
Sure, Todd had been able to offset the burn slightly by dating Pamela,
another cheerleader of stunning beauty in her own right. But even that
fell head first off the wagon when, in no uncertain terms, Pamela had
dumped him as well...this time via text message.

Outright Todd had accused her of being just another title rider, a
groupie for whoever sat on the higher social rung of Coxville high's totem.
The thought of being burned by not just one, but two of Coxville's hottest
girls shook him, almost as much as his demotion on the team. Todd's
father's mantra of being the best or being simply forgotten rang
continually in his head in the wake of all the drama. And Todd stewed on
it the whole way home. He'd been so caught up in his silent brooding that
he hardly noticed he'd been steadily eating his chips the entire time until
his fingers grazed the bottom of the bag.







At the same time Todd realized this, he'd also noticed he had made his
way back home. His broad and lavish two story suburban that his father,
the big businessman, had reminded him time and again to be grateful for.
It's not that Todd was actively ungrateful for the house and privileges he
was given...he just didn't really know how to express gratitude for what
he'd figured to be the norm. Todd and his father never did see eye to eye
on things like that. This gap in their understanding of one another was
only made worse after she arrived. As Todd made his way up the block, he
noticed there was a black car sitting on the curb in front of his house.
Weird, Todd thought. It wasn't his fathers. Even if based on a whim he'd
have heard from his father any intent to go out and buy a new car. It was
a familiar vehicle, and one that Todd soon identified as the one that had
passed by them while he was Cletus' not a half hour prior.

No way that could be right though, thought Todd. The newcomer to town
wouldn't have been in his neighborhood. He'd have been - as far as Todd
would have thought - far too busy with running the stampede of trucks about
a mile back in the town proper. Todd took the time to inspect the car from
a distance as he walked up to his house. Same vehicle, a jet black sedan
with tinted windows. He rounded the car, taking in how pristine it was.
Todd risked taking a closer look at the automobile, tilting his head closer
to one of the further windows. He couldn't get a clear view of the car's
interior, and only his curious reflection starred back him as he tried
cupping a hand to see inside.



And before his eyes could focus, Todd White felt a sudden chill run up
his spine. He couldn't ignore the abrupt flex of surprise at the sensation
of feeling that - for some unknown reason - he was being watched. He
looked up from the car and spied the expanse of the block. No one was
around, no one nearby to scold him for snooping on someone else's property.
But all the same, the piercing feeling of eyes upon him continued. It made
his heartbeat quicken a bit. A foreboding wave passed through him. Is
someone inside the car? Todd thought. It would have made sense, but the
silence in the immediate area and the car itself hinted of otherwise. If
someone was inside the black vehicle looking back at Todd, they made no
effort whatsoever to acknowledge his presence or their being aware of his
curiosity, and they made not the slightest sound to portray their presence.
The feeling gave Todd the creeps, standing near the jet black car left him
ill at ease. Todd stepped away from the car and headed for his house.



His dad should be home by now. She would most definitely be waiting for
him inside, what with her being strictly a housewife and all. Likely
waitin to bitch at me about something, he thought. Todd dug in his pockets
in search of his house key as he crossed the picket fence and traversed
across the front lawn. He'd just gotten a hold of the key ring when the
front door of his house swung open abruptly of its own volition, revealing
a sight that altogether made Todd's heart pause and stutter in his chest.

...



"Oh!" came the somewhat startled noise from the astonishingly beautiful
brown skinned goddess who was - for some thoroughly strange reason -
walking out of Todd's house. "Excuse me..." she said in a low sultry
breath that instantly made Todd's nerves coo with pleasure.



Now Todd White had never found himself actively attracted to black women
in the past. Save perhaps Stacy Brown, the dark skinned hottie on the
cheerleading squad who all the guys on the team agreed had a body that was
built for fucking. Todd quickly amended this thought upon apprising this
new woman, who Todd was certain he'd never seen before.

She was a perfect five foot nine, had flawless rich brown skin, high
cheeks bones, full luscious lips, a cutely shaped nose that held none of
the strong African hints he'd equated to most black people, and she wore
her hair in a short straight pixie cut that held a permanent gloss. Her
set of gorgeous facial features could have placed as anywhere from her late
twenties to her early thirties, and were punctuated by a large pair of
mesmerizing dark brown eyes that, Todd strangely noticed, somehow seemed
older than the sum of her bountiful parts. Todd had went in reverse of the
typical man's appraisal of the human body. He starred startled at this new
woman's face. His jaw all but dropped to ground upon spying the rest of
her.



The woman's body was something out of a comic book featuring
super-powered vixens and flawlessly built super-heroines. Her firm legs
trailed upward to reveal a wide set of gorgeous shapely hips - the promise
and curve of a bountiful ass resting behind her - that only barely kept
themselves contained in the tight fitting black skirt she wore. The tight
fitting blue blouse tucked into the skirt showed her to have a slim taut
waist just before expanding outward to tease the image of the two huge pert
breasts tucked firmly beneath the fabric. If Stacy Brown had a body built
for fucking, then this woman's body was made for making men cum.

Growing up in a town like Coxville, a man became well versed in what
made an immaculate pair of tits, whether he actively sought to or not.
He'd fanaticized on near countless occasions about getting a mouth and
handful of Jenny Summers' -- his ex-girlfriends smoking hot mom - legendary
rack. Her breasts were the living definition of big and round. The ones
that slightly bounced before him in a start right now however, rivaled even
the ones belonging to Mrs. Summers.



"And...this must be your son Todd" said the woman.



"Yep" came a man's voice from behind the ebony goddess. "That's my boy
Todd."



"Well, it's certainly a pleasure to meet you Todd" said the goddess.
"Your father was simply beaming while talking about you earlier."



"Uh--" was the only audible response Todd found himself capable of
giving, entranced at the sight of the woman before him.



"Todd, not be rude, say hello!" came another voice from behind Todd's
dark skinned queen. The voice was a sharp tin in the air, carried with a
thick Russian accent that Todd had come to hate, but contradictively found
himself aroused by.

When Todd finally came to sorts with where he was and who stood before
him, he shook himself into good enough sense to give a stammering "h-hi..."
to this new woman who he - with no degree of uncertainty - was bound to
masturbate to at the earliest opportunity.



Todd was able to tear himself away from gazing at this new beauty long
enough to peer at the open threshold of the house. Inside the interior
hallway stood Todd's father, Tom White. At a little more than six feet
tall, Tom White physically looked identical to his son, if aged by twenty
years or so. He wore a plain white button shirt, black tie and matching
slacks. Standing next to Tom was - in a silent cringe of realization to
Todd - was his `step-mother' ( heavy emphases on the step) Anya. Anya
White stood at five-nine. She had long silky raven hair that trailed down
to near the middle of the curved shape of her back and a frame almost as
robust and shapely as the black woman standing in front of him. Anya fit
right in among the females of Coxville, with large round double D breasts
and a bubble butt that many would have sworn was home grown in the deep
south. Her deep almond eyes always seemed to be turned in a glare at the
young White, a trait that Todd found to be of both disdain and (by Todd's
own admission) an undeniable attractiveness.



Todd and Anya had never gotten along. From minute one of her arrival to
Coxville they'd both succeeded in rubbing each other the wrong way, with
Todd rubbing himself the right way to thoughts of her in secret. Hatred
aside, it could not be denied or mistaken that Anya was - by all means - a
goddess in her right aesthetic right. Her hourglass hips, perfectly toned
body and gorgeous European facial features made her stand out amongst the
other beauties of Coxville almost as much as her accent did. And to have
that kind of affect among Coxville's women was saying something. I guess
she'd better be as hot, Todd thought on many occasions, considering how
much money my old man shelled out to get her here... Todd had thought to
himself so often that now the phrase almost seemed like a tiny mantra.
Stunningly beautiful as Anya was, to Todd she acted like nothing short of a
cold hard bitch.



At every opportunity Anya voiced some new complaint or grievance with
Todd's `attitude', which she made known on every opportunity she at all
didn't care for. An ignored request here, and spurned flex of parental
authority there, and the two had gradually found themselves in a domestic
tumult that was to be sounded from both sides, with Tom being the sole
force in the center keeping all-out war from engulfing the White household.



"Todd, this is..." Tom began before trailing off somewhat. "I'm so
sorry, I'm terrible with names, Miss..."

That's weird, thought Todd. He'd never seen his father act so
apologetic remembering a name before. As a businessman he'd told Todd time
and again that someone's who name you can't remember must not be one worth
remembering. As Whites our brains take in only the information we know is
essential in our enhanced development, everything else...is empty
calories.Todd found a flaw with that line of thinking, but didn't want to
probe deeper into what that flaw was. This nameless woman standing in his
doorway however, Todd most definitely wanted to probe, in more ways than
one.



"It's fine" she said with a light giggle. "I've found I rather like
being anonymous in certain situations. Like taking on the role of the
mysterious benefactor almost."

Todd gnawed at this idea for a moment. How could anyone not remember a
body like that, he thought. "Adela" the woman then said, revealing a
gorgeous smile shone with flawless white teeth. "Adela Laveau."

Adela, thought Todd. The name sang in his brain.



"Right, of course..." Tom replied. If Todd didn't know any better, he'd
have sworn his father was blushing. "Miss Laveau is the assistant for Mr.
Alexander Brooks" Tom exclaimed to Todd, the woman's status and pedigree
obviously having left his father more than a bit impressed.



"Brooks..." said Todd curiously, almost tasting the word when said
aloud. He'd heard the name plenty over the last few weeks. It had been
dropped in questioning whispers and curious murmurs amongst many of
Coxville's citizens. No one knew much about the mysterious man, aside from
the fact the guy was reported as being insanely rich, and was made famous
for the mysterious background and taciturn lifestyle as much as - if not
moreso - his broad endeavors in the corporate world.



"Yes" continued Adela. "Mr. Brooks just moved into the county today."



"Yeah, I noticed the trucks" replied Todd, trying to press down his
nervousness around Miss Laveau and engage in conversation that spanned
further than monosyllables. "Those were his huh?"



"Indeed. Mr. Brooks is very excited about moving into your fine town,
and he hopes there was wasn't too much of a ruckus made with his arrival."



"Yeah, I noticed all the construction too. Those guys were working
really hard on it."



"That they were, and we're very pleased with the results. I hope it
wasn't too much of a disturbance for you" said Miss Laveau, a seemingly
genuine lilt of concern in her tone.



"Oh, no no, not at all!" belted Todd, bringing his hands up in a gesture
of surrender. He immediately noticed his stammer had returned upon Miss
Laveau directly addressing him, and realized his stymied manner of speech
at the woman's beauty was just as bad as his father's. "I uh, I think it's
cool that we have someone new moving in."



"I'm very glad to hear it. Mr. Brooks is very adamant about making the
community feel comfortable with his arrival. A smooth transition is what
he aims for."

Todd noticed Miss Laveau's accent. It was southern, but didn't carry
the strong drawl that he noticed came in many black people's speech in the
state. Instead it was a dainty, eloquent and silky tambour. This sexy
sister most definitely wasn't from around here.



"Mr. Brooks is throwing a little get together at his estate next week"
Tom then said, holding up a rectangular piece of tailored paper that was -
from Todd's angle - engraved with something. A hand-written invitation by
the look of it.



"Yes" said Miss Laveau agreeably, "just a little party we're having to
give him an opportunity to meet and greet a few of the people of note in
town."



"And we've been invited!" chimed Tom, almost beaming at the mere thought
of being a `person of note' in Mr. Brooks' eyes. Anya simply stood next
to her husband, a wide smile on her face that came nowhere near her eyes
when settled on Todd.



"Cool..." Todd said plainly. "Can't wait..."



"Adult only Todd!" said Anya, her pronunciation of `Todd' coming out as
`Tood'. Todd sneered inside, but kept his gaze pleasant while on Adela.



"Lame..."he said simply.



"I'm sorry dear" Adela said warmly, a more than comforting smile aimed
directly at Todd. "This party in particular I'm afraid is aimed at a
more...adult audience. But, this is only one of several meetings we've got
planned. Mr. Brooks intends to meet everyone in Coxville in due time.
He's a particular eye on the town's youth. Always on the lookout for young
potential."



"You hear that Todd" said Tom. "Mr. Brooks is on the lookout for new
talent. Great opportunity for you if he notices you."



"I'm sure Mr. Brooks will be delighted meeting you" Adela then said.
For a split second Todd felt a little impressed with himself. He hadn't
tried hard, but apparently he'd left a good impression on the smoking hot
assistant of the town's new and insanely rich neighbor. The wind from the
young man's sails immediately left him however when Adela added -



"Delighted meeting all of you..." And if Todd noticed Miss Laveau's gaze
settle on Anya's for perhaps a moment longer than what would have been
deemed polite, he didn't say as such.

Adela then straightened herself and headed past Todd out from the
threshold of the White home. As she stepped past Todd, he caught the
slightest scent of her from a faint idle breeze on the coming night air.
An intoxicating aroma of light perfume that Todd - for the death of him -
couldn't place, but found himself uncontrollably attracted to. He felt the
threat of an erection tug at his underpants upon the simple grazing of
their bodies as Miss Laveau's shoulder brushed against his.



"Well, I'd best be on my way. There's still quite a few invitations
I've left to hand out before tomorrow."



"You're handing them out door to door?" asked Todd in a fleeting attempt
to keep Miss Laveau around for just a bit longer.



"Oh yes" replied Adela matter-of-factly. "Mr. Brooks wouldn't have it
any other way. He prefers interpersonal and...hands on approaches to these
kinds of matters."



"I see" interjected Tom. "Man sounds efficient, gotta respect that.
Does Mr. Brooks have any particular preference of wine Miss Laveau? I
figure it would only be polite to bring something to the party."



"Oh, please Mr. White" replied Adela, seeming almost charmed at the
gesture. "Everything involving refreshments and entertainment has already
been arranged. You just need to bring your handsome self, and ,of course,
your lovely wife...Anya was it?"

Tom's and Anya's faces both immediately flushed. Todd was three seconds
away from concluding Miss Laveau just had that effect on everyone she met.



"Y-yes, Anya" confirmed the raven haired Russian. "And pleasure meetink
you Miss Laveau", the name 'Laveau' coming out as "Lu-vou"



"Great, can't wait" added Tom.



Todd hadn't noticed, but the three of them had followed Adela all the
way to her car. He wasn't even sure if they were aware they'd been walking
until just then. The red afternoon sky had finally settled into a hazy
twilight when the passenger door of the black car opened. So that was her
car, pondered Todd. Or, the car she was given to hand out Mr. Brook's
invitations. Todd hadn't noticed the huge bald headed black man at the
wheel until Adela was sliding into the passenger side of the vehicle, her
long lean leg stretching out from the curb and settling herself inside.
Todd suddenly felt a little embarrassed upon realizing he was most likely
staring at the driver like a goon during his earlier examination of the
black car.



"Neither can I Mr. White..." Adela then said, her award winning smile
framing her immaculate brown features.



And without another word, the tinted black window slowly began to roll
up, erasing Miss Laveau's face in a span of inches before disappearing
completely behind a sheet of impenetrable darkness. The car came to life
and then began to roll down the street at an even pace to the next lucky
household, the noise of the engine secluded to only a moderate hum. Todd,
Tom and Anya White waved at the charming Miss Laveau and the car as it
faded in the distance. Tom White beamed at the thought of being invited to
the party of Coxville's newest and most wealthy citizen. Todd silently
rejoiced at the thought of masturbating to the beyond sexy Miss Adela
Laveau. And Anya...for reasons she didn't even understand, fought down
what must have been an odd sort of heat flash. A mysterious anticipatory
tingle that echoed in her body and in her bones that seemed to grow inside
her from the minute she'd gotten within a certain distance of the black
car.

And if the sensation bore a striking resemblance to the ones experienced
earlier that day by the other white beauties of Coxville County, well, Anya
White wouldn't have had any real way of knowing.

*********

"Ohma GAWD Mr. White!" Adela moaned in her silky tinted voice. "Who'da
thought you were hiding such a big white cock from me!"

Todd lay flat on his back, arms folded behind his head comfortably, a
confident smile framing his lips as he appraised his sexy black bitch's
efforts.



"You can call me Todd", he replied. "As long as you keep up that pace
and get all of my cock into that hot chocolate pussy of yours..."

Miss Laveau rocked herself harder on top of his cock. She'd shake his
bed from side to side, forwards and backwards, all the while bouncing her
beautiful round rump on top his vanilla meat. Things often came to a head
whenever Todd would say,



"Todd!" came Adela's voice.

"You can do better than that Miss Laveau" he replied, just before using
his hand to pull Adela all the way down onto the remaining few inches of
his hard unit.



"OH MY GOD, SO BIG!!" she'd bellow aloud, just before shaking herself
into what appeared to be a crippling orgasm.

This in turn would trigger Todd to near a climax as well with each
thrust.



"OH TODD, TODD, TOOOODD!"

Mere moments before Todd could reach his own happy ending however, his
climax was halted by the odd change that had occurred in Adela's voice. It
was no longer the sultry croon of her New Orleans accent, but the foreign
belt of a thick Russian one. Coming from his brown skinned goddess, the
voice didn't sound right at all. It threw off his rhythm, and caused
Todd's penis - a normal six inches in reality - to immediately soften in
his hand.







"Todd! Won't ask again, up!" Yelled Anya from downstairs.

The baying lilt of Anya's voice came from outside his room, her accent
turning his name into a long winded "Toood". "Todd, wake up! You will be
late for schoolink again!"

Todd White lay in bed, his eyes half crusted over with the remnants of
his sleep. Anya wouldn't have had any way of knowing the young man had
already been awake for the last ten minutes. His left hand buried
underneath his covers, tugging fiercely at the rock hard erection that
slightly teepeed his comforter. This had been about the sixth time that
morning Todd had had a go at himself. From one AM the previous night, Todd
White had been pleasuring himself at wavering intervals. Waking up
randomly with thoughts of the simply delicious Miss Adela Laveau dancing
about in his mind.

He'd stroke himself hardily to mental images of miss Laveau's big round
chocolate tits bouncing in front of his face. Motion captures of her
shapely brown hips thrusting and gyrating on top of his hard -- `foot long'
-- cock.

Todd would stroke himself harder to the image of her bending over, her
long lithe legs stretching and pulling with each pump he'd give her. He'd
been at this non-stopped for more than a week now, and the visual still
hadn't failed to make him nut. Provided Todd's royal bitch of a stepmother
didn't set a flame to whole fantasy with her constant yelling.



"Fuck!" cursed Todd, his fantasy dashed.

In that place between his dreams and in the confines of his warm bed,
Todd White reigned as a sexual tyrannosaurus. In his fantasies he was a
man who women begged to please with every hole they had to offer. In his
fantasies he had a cock the size of a Pringles can that made even the black
guys on his football team green around the gills. And in his fantasies,
making women tremble with thunderous toe-curling orgasms came as easy as
breathing. And Anya, his nominal stepmother, had decimated his kingdom
with but the mere shrill of her voice. Todd was fully awake now, back in
the real world where he was bitter, bitchless and going to bat with nothing
remotely close to the amount of wood he had had been making Miss Laveau
slide up and down on in his mind.



"Fuck!" Todd repeated, pulling himself out of bed and staggering about
his room in search of clothes to wear.

Ten minutes later, Todd had - somehow - fumbled into a pair of clean
blue jeans and a fresh maroon colored t-shirt, close to the shade of his
team colors. Todd went about fixing his hair, brushing his teeth and
appraising himself in the mirror. For what it was worth, he was quite
impressed with what he saw. Young, handsome, physically in the prime of
his youth. He forced a smile and made his way downstairs, his backpack
d****d over one shoulder. The smile melted away upon catching glimpse of
his stepmother in the kitchen.



"Todd, I told you to settink alarm last night. I tired of wakink you
every mornink."

No `good morning Todd', no `I made you breakfast sweetheart', nothing
even close to what a mother, a real mother, would say to her son first
thing in the morning. No, with Anya, it was always bitching. Every
morning began with some new complaint or half-hearted order from her. Todd
sneered as he walked passed her, her taut body concealed in her thinly
layered silk morning robe. Todd hated Anya, but god did he love her body.
Even when covered, his Russian step-mother's physique oozed sexuality.
Women in Coxville were world renowned for their beauty, taut healthy
bodies, and - most famous - their incredible breasts. Anya hit the mark in
all three departments, even despite being a foreigner. She fit right into
the fold in way of looks among the females in Coxville. Her dark almond
eyes only made the point hit that much harder between his legs.

The only thing that perhaps set her apart from any of the other women in
town was that accent of hers. Todd understood what she was saying more
often than not. But sometimes, during particularly annoying reprimands,
Todd couldn't resist entertaining the desire to appease his inner redneck
and tell the twenty-something mail order bride, at the top of his lungs
"THIS IS A'MERICA, SPEAK A'MERICAN BITCH!" He never did say that outright
though. Todd was still coming to grips with the idea that - technically -
this woman was supposed to be acting as his mother. It was hard taking
someone so sexy that seriously though, especially when you heard her
moaning and groaning from your dad porking her every other night. Whenever
Anya went and got all fired over something Todd did (or didn't) do, he
could never bring himself to really pay attention, as he would be too
occupied watching her pert tits heave and bounce with her winded rants.



"Yeah yeah" replied Todd bluntly. "Relax, I just forgot."



"No forget" Anya shot back. "You forget last week already, and week
before. You just not listenink."

Todd passed her, not stirring so much as an eyebrow at the accusation,
and made a big show of paying the open refrigerator more attention than
her.



"See, you're doink it right now Todd. Purposely ignorink me! Your
father -"



"My father! Todd interrupted flatly, not even bothering to turn his
head to the dark haired woman. "Believe it or not, makes a pretty regular
habit of not `listenink' to you whenever you start complaining over stupid
stuff too." And the only time he does listen is when he wants to get
between your legs, he added silently. It's just something us Americans do
when we start hearing crap we don't like. It goes with the territory of
sleeping in and being awesome at sports. You'll get used to it."







"Complain? Anya replied, disgust and all the signs of being taken aback
held in her voice. "Complain?! Anya does not complain. I orderink! You
settink alarm every day from now on, without my wakink you. AND -"Anya
added with an exclamatory finger raised, "you're cleanink out attic, like
your father tell you to three week ago!"



"What?!? Todd exclaimed, closing the refrigerator with an audible slam
and coming away with a carton of milk.



"Bozhe moi " replied Anya in a frustrated sigh. English wasn't too hard
for the Russian beauty to speak, but whenever excited or worked into a
flustered state, she tended to revert back to her native dialect. I
say--".



"I heard what you said" Todd cut off, rather rudely. "And I'm gonna ask
you the same thing I asked my old man, why the hell do I have to clean out
HIS attic? It just has a bunch of HIS old stuff, and YOUR old crap from
Russia?"



"Crap?" Anya said in a lower snarl, one of her hands actually showing
the makings of a fist. If Todd didn't know any better, he'd have sworn she
was getting ready to deck him one. "Crap?! Anya's beloninks not CRAP!
They are Anya's personal keepsakes from Russia!"



"All the more reason for you to go in there and organize them yourself,
don't ya think?" Replied Todd with a cutting smirk and a long swig out of
the carton of milk. More than anything, he'd done it because he knew Anya
HATED when people drank straight out of the carton.



"Is not point Todd. Your father told you to be doink it, not ANYA, you!
Instead of complain, why not simply do what you are told?"



"Why? Because it's not my crap. And instead of complaining, I maintain
a simple policy; Not my `crap', not my problem" he replied defiantly.



Anya's face turned a deeper shade of red in response. Todd, her
arrogant and spoiled little prick of stepson, was in rare form this
morning.



"ARGH, you either clean, or your father make you clean."



"Oh, so you're gonna try to narc on me now?"



"No narkink, but I will tell Tom, who will MAKE you clean."

Anya didn't know that the phrase `narc' meant just that. But rather
than explain, Todd simply chose to take one more giant swig out of the milk
carton, set it down hard onto the island table in the kitchen, grabbed his
backpack, and exited the room with a finalizing,



"Whatever!"

Todd could practically feel the heat burning into his back from Anya's
doubtless glare of hate, and couldn't fight off the smallest urge to smile
at himself as he exited through the front door and left the house for
school. This chalked as a genuine - if small - victory against his Russian
bitch of a stepmother. She doubtless would run to his dad and demand he
have her back, which Tom most likely would if Anya teased the idea of
revoking all privileges to her body. Todd would worry about it later.
Whatever, he repeated to himself, just before replacing the thought of Anya
yelling at him, with a mental picture of her AND Miss Laveau sharing both
ends of his `white twelve inch cock' with both of their full lipped mouths.

...



Anya White went about cleaning the kitchen wearing a rosy red face of
near rage. She scrubbed at the small pile of white dishes with the
ferocity of someone who seemed more likely to break them than get them
clean. The intensity of her scrubbing was so fierce it caused her pert
round bubble butt to giggle cutely in a small rhythm as result. If it was
one thing the dark haired Russian hated, it was being dismissed. Her
ingrate of a stepson Todd had done so BIG TIME this morning. Storming off,
mocking her authority, defiant in every way possible. But despite even her
frustration towards the boy, a part of her didn't hold him entirely to
blame for his behavior. Anya's husband, Tom, had a very similar habit of
walking off haughtily after brushing off what she had to say. The son had
seen the father treat her as such on numerous occasions, and - like most
young men - taken to mimicking the elder male's traits. Both the White men
in her home just had to have the last word on everything, even if they were
dead wrong in the matter.







Anya eventually (through some miracle) managed to finish the dishes
without reducing any to broken shards. She went about picking up the
abandoned carton of milk Todd had left on the small island table in the
center of the kitchen, shaking it lightly in her hand and hearing the minor
dregs slosh about inside before throwing the article away. Thereafter she
proceeded doing her daily chores around the house. Anya's natural alarm
clock usually found her waking up at just after dawn. It was a point of
evidence to show that Anya - even despite having long left her small native
town in Russia - was still an early riser. A `doch iz Cherniderivo' to
this day, she thought, an inside joke that translated to `daughter of
Cherniderivo'. Cherniderivo was the name of Anya's home town.



Cherniderivo was a small (emphasis on small) farming community located
in the rural lands of Eastern Europe. More secluded and far situated
compared to even the scarce arctic denizens of Verkhoyansk of the Sakha
Republic, Cherniderivo maintained a population no larger than 1200 people.
Anya had figured the population size hadn't changed much since her
departure to America several years ago. A `daughter of Cherniderivo' was
the endearing nickname given to most of the young women in her town. From
early on in her youth, Anya, along with her two sisters - Katerina her
elder, and Sonya, her younger - had loved being called as such by their
town's elder women, or (the slightly less formal term) `babushkas'.



As Anya went about cleaning the White home with a mix of speed and an
almost supernatural efficiency, she drifted back on her life before moving
to this hot southern town. She recalled waking up with the first glimmers
of the sunrise to help her sisters tend the `kopobas' . Feeding them,
tending their barn and so forth. It was a grueling process, but one that
Anya reveled in doing in youth before going off to school. Recalling that
and then comparing her morning routine to Todd's only reaffirmed her stout
hatred of the boy.



"Get used to it! sleepkink in! Anya grumbled to herself out loud while
scrubbing at the bits of grit and remnants of food that had been burned
into the stove by Todd the previous day. "When I his age, I not even have
luxury of sleepink in. Not even know what `sleepink in' meant" she
murmured to the ether. Her ungrateful, rude little prick of a stepson
acted like the request of waking himself up at a decent hour was demanding
he cross the Alps bare-assed. It was purely appalling how spoiled the boy
was. American c***dren had proven to be every bit as spoiled and bratty as
the babushkas back home had warned her they'd be. Their puffed up
arrogance and whiny complaints towards anything resembling hard work, it
was enough to make Anya ill.



She cleaned the kitchen, living room, bathroom and her bedroom to the
point of spotless. Anya had made it a personal creed within the first few
weeks of living with Todd to never clean his room. She completed all this
within just about an hour, leaving neither grit nor speck of dust in her
plush home. As a housewife it came with the territory, and Anya was a
natural when it came to efficiency.



When she was done, she went upstairs to her bedroom and stripped out of
her silk morning robe. Now, when Anya White - formerly Anya Cherninov -
first arrived in Coxville, it daunted many of the native folk when Tom
first introduced her. Though carrying a definite air of elsewhere European
origin that made her stand out, while looking at the curvy and very much
well-endowed Russian - ex-model Tom would beamingly add - one would never
have guessed the woman was an outsider. Certainly women of beauty, grace,
elegance and mesmerizing physical prowess could be found in just about any
part of the modern world, but Anya's smooth surprisingly and surprisingly
mid-tanned skin, statuesque slim body frame, simply luscious curvy hips,
immaculately toned legs, flawless round bubble butt, gorgeous facial
features AND (last but definitely not least) symmetrically perfect round E
sized breasts made it hard to tell Anya was grown anywhere BUT Coxville
county.



Tom's female friends beamed at her beauty, cooing with kindly phrases
like,



"Oh my good lord Tom! Now if she ain't just an angel straight from
heaven, I don't know what is!" and "You're gonna fit right in round these
parts sugar, I guarantee you that! We'll have you speakin the language in
no time flat." All the while placing their hands appraisingly on her
shoulders and gently touching the cheeks of her face adoringly.

Tom's male friends went about welcoming the woman with their own jovial
lines of,



"Now if at any point you get tired of dealin with this old bum Tom here,
you feel free to give me a call, alright hon?", and usually came with an
accompanying wink and a (perhaps more than friendly) hand on the shoulder.



"Sorry there Buddy", Tom would say in response, cutting in and wrapping
his arms around Anya's slim waist from behind, "This girl will be way too
taken care of to even give a joker like you a second thought."

They'd all laugh, and by the look of them one would never even know Anya
wasn't from their small little nook town in the south.

Naked, Anya was every bit a Coxville beauty as its own female natives
were. Her body was a shapely flawless temple that would likely drive a
fair number of men in town in orgasm by just being in front of her bare
form, and - perhaps - adding a seductive line of < wanna fuck? > in her
native tongue. Her long inky black hair pooled to her back as she shed her
robe, and wafted lightly as she slid on a white tight fitting sports bra
and a matching pair of yoga pants.



This was the part of the morning that Anya lived for. Her own
efficiency in housekeeping, along with her habit of rising early each day
gave her a huge expanse of free time during the day. During that time,
Anya would put in work on maintaining her devastatingly sexy figure.
Jogging typically proved enough to keep the Russian beauty in shape, as
cardio came standard with most endeavors back home in Cherniderivo, and had
kept her lean most of her life. When her spirit wasn't in the jogging sort
of mood (or simply not up to being ogled by the local men folk in the
neighborhood) she'd stay in and engage in a relaxing, though rigorous,
morning yoga workout. Grabbing her purple yoga mat, Anya would head back
downstairs to the spacious and brightly sunlit living room.



There she would engage in a wide variety of long stretching poses. Her
arms lengthened out before her whilst standing with her body angled in a
warrior's pose. Her left and right legs stretched wide in the air whilst
balancing herself on the balls and arches of her feet. Anya bent on all
fours in the table, cat, cow and sunbird poses respectively.



Anya rather enjoyed going through these particular motions. She'd
noticed in the past the effect her pert round ass and cleavage of her large
beautiful breasts had on others when she was involved with a group of yoga
practioners at the local Olympian gym, and - while not openly accepting of
the attention - enjoyed seeing the jaws of onlookers drop at her perfect
form. Anya sometimes went to the Olympian with her good friend Sammy
Spitzmen, who was a certified health nut by Anya's decree (along with
everyone else who knew the lively red head). Sammy had tried on several
occasions to get Anya to join her in her intense physical workouts, but
Anya - forgoing the threat of being called dainty by the energetic ginger -
declined, choosing instead the peaceful but trying endeavors of stretching
and contorting her body. The dark haired beauty turned out to be a natural
at the art. The instructor of the class had to give her only minimal
instruction after only her second session, and Anya herself soon discovered
that she was naturally very flexible.



Before she knew it, she was taking on advanced positions and poses as
though it were light work. Both her legs spread wide in the splits of a
seated angle pose, her flexibility allowing her stomach could touch the mat
in front of her. It was ability that the male members in her class were
very much enamored and appreciative of and the less astute women in
class...well...not so much.



Anya breathed in an out as she shaped her body into the caterpillar
pose; a position of her lying face down, with her ass curled up as high as
possible towards the sky. She breathed in when stretching her body out
into a long lithe curve in the cobra shape; where her lower body was strewn
straight while her upper body was tilted upwards, her bountiful chest being
pressed together hard between her evenly placed arms. And she breathed out
while holding a long stance of - her class's favorite - downward dog. Anya
loved yoga, the feeling of her muscles being stretched and tightened was
bliss to her body. She went about this and an array of other poses until
she'd built up a good sweat. When she finally finished about an hour or so
later, she strode back upstairs with her mat, stripped out of her pants and
now damp sports bra, and hopped into her large bathtub for a long luxurious
shower.



The hot beads of water beat of her taut mid-tanned skin. She lavished
in the heat and steam, all but forgetting the day's earlier unpleasantness
with her creep of a stepson. As warm water trailed down her skin, bits of
water hitting and teasing her tightly budded pink nipples, Anya couldn't
shake the feeling of being incredibly horny. I should have fucked Tom this
morning, she thought. Anya and her husband Tom had sex on a fairly regular
basis. More often than not she would awaken her brown haired hubby with a
sultry bit of `come hither' talk in Russian. she would say, < Good morning
dear husband >, < Rise and Shine > she'd tease into his ear. < Uh oh!
Well, it looks like a part of you is wide awake > she'd coo, gently pulling
at the throbbing meat of the man's morning wood underneath the covers.



She'd then climb atop her husband, and go about riding him with a skill
that seemed almost superhuman at times. Cherniderivo had a strong
horseback riding culture. One that Anya had taken part in since she was a
little girl, and was still putting to good use as a married woman of
twenty-seven years old. It never took long for Tom to cum. A few quick
pumps and a couple hard grinding motions from the sexy Russian vixen, and
Tom would squirm underneath her in a throaty moan of pleasure. He'd spasm,
and she'd feel the few sparse drops of semen into her, and then she'd feel
the five hard inches of his erection soften and subside from her hot
insides.



It never came close to getting Anya off physically, but the idea of
knowing she had her man wrapped around her finger in the bedroom filled her
a significant degree of confidence. < Well, it feels like you enjoyed that
> she'd always say after ending him, and then rolling off her husband to
start the day. Anya herself would never come until sometime after. They'd
skipped this early morning romp this morning, and it left Anya feeling just
a bit ill at ease. Like she had let something in her morning routine
unfinished. Afterwards she had completed her yoga session and made herself
good and sweaty.



Sliding two fingers into her smooth hairless pussy, Anya went to work on
herself in the shower. She silently rubbed and prodded herself, her
bathroom and bedroom door wide open. Noone was home, Tom and Todd would be
gone for hours, so she was free to enjoy this small bit of exposure. Now,
Anya might have been perceived as a bit odd from her fellow Coxvillian
women for this next fact. But when Anya masturbated, it was never to the
thought of other people. Conversation with her friends Jenny, Ivana, Sammy
and - hell - even Bianca had proven to the dark Russian that typically
women had images of fanaticized partners. She recalled Sammy confessing to
inappropriate fantasies about a certain young male pop singer,



"If that boy were a few years older...hmmmhm!" she giggle.

Anya recalled her other girlfriend Ivana Swallows confessing to having a
number of imaginary trysts with a particular handsome actor. She couldn't
recall the name, Bradly -something-or-other. Even Anya's closest friend
Bianca had cited as such in a murmured tone. Anya however stood aside from
this practice. She instead fanaticized about her yoga sessions. She'd
recall the feeling of her muscles being stretched and pulled passed normal
in the caterpillar position. She'd pause on the feeling and sensations of
being bent over, and tease herself with the desire to be manhandled by...no
one with any distinguishing features. The self-image of Anya in downward
dog had always filled her with a near ravenous desire to be filled up.



In the confines of her dreams and fantasies, she'd be naked on her yoga
mat, in any number of the more...suggestive yoga positions. She'd execute
the poses in waiting for...something...someone to take her. Her taut
bubble butt propped up high into the air in anticipation to be entered, to
be filled up...what was the expression she'd heard? Filled up...balls
deep? The phrase made her moist as she slid her fingers deeper into
herself. Her fantasies had no active figure, no sexual archetype for her to
coast to an orgasm...not until recently that is. Recently, Anya suddenly
found her once vacant wet-dreams to be a bit more populated. When she
fantacized about being naked in the catapillar position now, her desire to
be filled up were more than answered. A nameless, faceless figure - most
definitely a man - would then enter.



He'd grab both sides of her hips with two huge strong hands, and hold
her in place as he slid the fat head of what had to have been the hugest
penis Anya could ever conceive existed on a man. The fantasy would
continue with the anonymous stranger pushing an incredible number of fat
veiny inches into her, her face strained and panting from the trial while
she moaned and writhed uncontrollably in Ru