by thecryptkeeper 12/28/13
"I'm Reggie Johnson, your neighbor from up the road. I'm stuck out here and need help, please," a voice that sounded vaguely familiar replied. Melissa did not recognize the name, but the passage Bill had read to her earlier -- "helping a stranger in need" -- spoke to her now.
A clatter from the lock turning brought a momentary smile to Reggie, but he quickly replaced it with a brooding frown when the door opened.
Melissa opened the door to an onslaught of wind and sleet and a flood of chill night air that instantly displaced the warmth inside the house and caused the flames in the fireplace to shudder. In the gloom, she did not recognize the gigantic, imposing figure standing at her doorway. "Come in," she encouraged, moving to the side, guardedly allowing the dark figure to pass and hurriedly shutting the door behind him. "The power's out," she explained leading him with the poise of a ballet dancer from the shadowy hallway toward the warm fireplace.
In light cast by the fire, Melissa recognized the figure covered in melting snow and ice that formed puddles beneath his galoshes as the huge black man who greeted her in Church. He removed mitten-covered hands from the pockets of his dark blue ski jacket and appreciatively waved them above the genial flames.
The uneasy feeling Reggie had given her in church returned, but she ignored her instincts. How could she turn him away in a dangerous storm and call herself a Christian? "What in heaven's name are you doing out on a night like this?" Melissa asked.
In silk pajamas that loosely followed the developed curves of Melissa's young, athletic body, it took every ounce of willpower to stop his eyes from devouring her and revealing his intentions.
"I saw the storm coming and thought I better try to get gasoline for my generator and some firewood. When I got to town, the store had closed already. I tried to get back home but my truck slid off the road and got stuck a mile back from here," Reggie explained peeling off his wet mittens and sticking them in his jacket pocket.
Melissa thought about this situation for a moment -- the inappropriateness of a strange black man alone with her at night with her husband away. She did not like this scenario, but in good conscience, she could not refuse Reggie lodging while the storm raged. She answered sympathetically: "Well you can't go out with it storming like this. You'll freeze to death. Let me take your jacket to dry before you catch cold." She went to help him remove a backpack he was wearing so he could take off the jacket, but he stopped her.
"I've got it," Reggie said. "It's pretty heavy." He placed the backpack on the hardwood floor leaning it against the end of the sofa. Melissa hung his ski jacket over the back of a chair and left his galoshes by the fire to dry.
With his puffy jacket off, Melissa noticed large muscles bulging beneath Reggie's shirt and wondered what type of strenuous physical labor he performed to make them so big. Reggie was handsome, but she was married and not interested other men -- especially black men. His strong facial structure looked like it had been sculpted in marble with smooth dark brown skin; short kinky black hair on top; wet, black eyes like obsidian.
Melissa took a sip of tea she had prepared earlier, now lukewarm, and saw Reggie watching her. "I'm sorry I can't make you some with the power out. Would you like something cold to drink? Ice water perhaps?" she joked.
"Actually, I am a little thirsty, but you can hold the ice," answered Reggie.
Melissa minced her way to the kitchen nursing the fragile flame from a candle. When she left the room, Reggie leaned over to where his backpack sat next to the couch, silently retracted its zipper enough to slide his hand inside, and procured a vial he had brought for this special occasion, spiking her tea with a dose of the clear liquid -- the finest date rape formulation available.
Snow and sleet fell outside and frigid wind strained through crevices in the old, drafty structure as Melissa groped in the dimly lit cupboard for a glass. It began to look like this black man, a practical stranger, might have to stay the night -- a prospect that did not sit well with her.
Reggie was zippering his backpack closed as Melissa returned with a glass of water. "My cell phone doesn't work in the house, but as soon as it lets up, I'll go outside and call for help," she stated. It was a tactful hint that she did not want him here any longer than necessary.
"We can't get anyone to come out in this weather now anyway, I guess," Reggie answered as Melissa returned to the other end of the sofa.
Melissa sipped from her half-full cup, the cold giving the tea a slightly different, vaguely salty flavor, she thought, smacking her lips together and finishing the soupcon remaining.
"Have you lived here long?" Melissa asked, forgetting about the bad vibe she received from Reggie and finding herself in a more talkative mood.
"About four months."
"Where are you from?"
Reggie paused a moment not wanting to reveal too much about himself and thinking about his answer. "Ashville," he lied. "How about you," he asked, encouraging a garrulousness uncharacteristic in her the drug induced.
Unusual exhilaration and a girlish silliness she had buried years ago bubbled to her surface and she opened more to him, providing her entire life history it seemed in speech becoming increasingly slurred and less coherent.
Reggie comfortably reclined and put his arm around her shoulders, his touch strangely redolent of her first loves, and smiled into her face as he adjusted an extremely large bulge in his pants. Melissa saw the curved outline of his immense manhood strain against the fabric, reach above his left hip, and practically pop out the waistband of his trousers! She realized something was wrong. She tried standing and almost fell, but Reggie jumped up and caught her.
"Whoa, you're in no condition to walk," Reggie said, holding Melissa against him. She was everything he sought in a woman -- a beautiful face, a perfect little body and white. Something about stuck-up white women in particular made Reggie extra horny.
Tight in Reggie's arms, she tried to recoil from the hardness of his penis that she felt through his pants pushing into her tummy.
"Get hands off. Let... go," She babbled -- nausea and grogginess setting in.
"What's the matter? You're not feeling well, baby?" Reggie asked with a heinous smile.
She stared at him with a vacant look, like someone heavily drugged and on an intense trip.
"I better get you in bed; you probably have the flu or something."
Reggie set Melissa on the sofa and with the candle she had used earlier, searched her house, finding her cellphone, its charger and a set of keys on the kitchen table. In another room, he found her computer and removed its power cord.
When he returned to the living room with the items he had found -- Melissa's phone and keys in his pocket, the phone charger and computer power cord in his hand -- Melissa was gone, the front door left open as an invitation for cold, wind and sleet.
Reggie grabbed a flashlight from his backpack. The darkness seemed to swallow him as he went into the frigid night to find her.
He discovered Melissa slumped over the hood of her locked car. He realized he held the car's keys, along with her cellphone, in his pocket. Snow covered Melissa; still in pajamas, she was soaked and freezing.
Atop Melissa's chiffonier a solitary candle glimmered, her somber bedroom filled with shadows and chill. Behind purple lips, her teeth chattered as she shivered in Reggie's arms. The potent drug attenuated her kicks, strikes, and desperate squirms.
Reggie plopped her into bed, his immense cock hard and aching to soothe itself in her tight pussy. First, he needed to treat Melissa's hypothermia. "We've got to get these wet pajamas off you right away," he said starting to unbutton her top. Although her fingers scrabbled to keep her buttons fastened, Melissa's full breasts and tight stomach appeared as Reggie ultimately succeeded in undoing the piece and it dangled open.
"No, leave alone," she slurred, clutching the open, wet garment to her chest as he sat her up and grappled it from her. Off Melissa's shoulders and down her arms the pajama top finally came with several hard tugs, Reggie tossing it from the bed. Her arm shakily crossed over her chest concealing her nipples that had hardened from the cold. Reggie shoved her down. His fingers slid inside the waistbands of her pajama bottoms and panties and bunched them in his fists. He yanked fiercely. The sodden silk garments came off her hips, down her legs, and reunited with her top somewhere on the floor. Naked on her back beneath him, arm covering her breasts, hand over her vagina, and shivers so severe the entire bed trembled.
Reggie managed to undress and straddle Melissa, her body writhing beneath him.
A glimpse in the shadows left Melissa doubting her own eyes -- his penis could not possibly be that large.
"This will get you warm," Reggie said. He rested his naked, muscular body on top of Melissa, sinking her into the mattress.
"Get off," Melissa groaned through clenched teeth, her hands ineffectively pushing at his sides, her nipples poking into his chest. The sensation of his monstrous penis pressing against her, its warmth and hardness reaching above her belly button, confirmed what she saw in the shadows.
Melissa's body thawed from Reggie's warmth. The powerful drug caused her to drowse as he stroked her soft, flowing hair. He nibbled up her neck and her nipples perked into him more. "That's it baby. Just let me keep you warm," Reggie whispered. The flames in the living room fireplace died and the temperature throughout the house dropped further. His hand briefly stopped by his mouth, and with saliva on its fingers descended between her legs.
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