When Foes Collide II
A familiar, red SUV pulled into the apartment complex's parking lot, and luckily, found an empty spot in the guest parking stalls. The driver was none other than Carmela Diaz-Robles. With the eyes of a hawk, the Latina scanned the entirety of the vehicles sitting in the day's dwindling sunlight. A moment later, she spotted her sister-in-law's car, but her husband's vehicle was nowhere to be seen.
"Damn it, he's not here!" She grumbled.
Despite the setback, Carmela was not a woman who would allow her self to be deterred. Not any more. The bronze-skinned beauty was absolutely certain that Frankie had gotten the news about what she'd done recently. That had been her most recent infidelity, when Frankie's cheating slut of a wife had not only sucked off his boss, but had also gotten her ass stuffed by one of his coworkers. The cunning woman had no idea of how her husband had reacted to her indiscretions, because her husband had never called her and said a word about it. Carmela had planned for and expected a confrontation with Frankie. It was crucial that her husband do that, because that's when she was going to lay her secret trap on him. That's when she was going to snare him into her clutches once again. But it hadn't happened. Frankie had left her out in the cold yet again.
She could still get him back, Carmela thought, before she corrected herself. She would get him back, no matter what the cost. The next item on the woman's master plan had been to show up randomly at the places Frankie frequented the most. Driving back to his workplace was now out of the question. It would be too easy for Frankie to cause a commotion there, and for his colleagues to get into the middle of their domestic squabble. Already Carmela had gone to his parents' house a few times, with no luck. Now, she'd come here to his sister's apartment.
And she wanted Frankie. She needed him, bad. Really bad!
Ever since Not-So-Hairy Jerry had introduced her to the joys of anal intercourse, Carmela had developed an unwavering fixation on it. She'd started small; with her middle finger first, but she'd since then she'd matured into using the rounded end of her hairbrush. The stupid brush had poked and stung at her thighs, Carmela recalled, and its end was rough against her flesh until she'd started coating the damned thing with disinfectant jelly. After that, she'd been able to shove that thing far enough into herself that the bristles were jabbing at her asshole.
That hadn't been enough. The brush was barely thicker than her finger, prompting her to start prowling around the house and looking for something even larger to play with. Something that would increase her pleasure far more than that stupid little brush could. And not too long after that, she'd found it.
Carmela was vacuuming the apartment one day, shuffling back and forth across her bedroom floor, when the usual erotic thoughts began occupying her mind. She started to wish that Frankie were there, even if he was still angry with her, because she knew exactly how to make him forget all of that. Within moments, she would have gotten him to drop his pants and push her onto the bed, where he would most definitely fuck the shit out of her until she decided she had enough.
Absently, on that day she'd gripped the handle of her vacuum cleaner. As she glanced down at the handle, she noticed the thick, black piece of plastic in an entirely new light. The grip was ergonomically contoured to fit into a human hand, with a small rounded end, followed by a slight narrowing. Past this, it bulged out at the point where her fingers wrapped around it. She estimated the length of the handle to be at about five or six inches, before it curved down at an angle and widened into something... unmanageable.
Carmela had shut the vacuum off and walked over to the bed with it. Once she'd taken a seat, she leaned forward to study the handle closer. On a lark, she'd opened her mouth wide enough to see how much of it would fit into her mouth. That was when she'd discovered that the handle was only a teeny bit narrower than her husband's cock.
Carmela stood the vacuum upright and she stared wonderingly at it. Then, she thought of how that long piece of plastic might feel if she stuck it into the place that was giving her all these cravings. Carmela felt her body anticipating the encounter, as eagerly as it had anticipated all of her other previous sexual adventures.
"Mr. Hoover, I'm feeling a little naughty right now." Carmela nearly salivated as she imagined her newest fantasy. "How would you like to go up my ass?"
When the vacuum didn't decline, she made her move on it. Half a dozen regular pillows, body pillows and cushions went on the floor, followed by the falling vacuum. She placed the vacuum on its front, with its handle up in the air and secured by the various pillows under it. When she felt everything was in position, she took the final step. This was to coat the plastic handle with jelly, and to smear an additional finger of the stuff up her butt.
The grip looked like a little black cock, Carmela considered, as she carefully descended her lower half onto it. It prodded at her butt-crack, until she'd adjusted both the vacuum and her body into a more sensual alignment. The little knob end slipped into her, making her shiver with the sheer audacity of what she was doing. Once Carmela had gotten comfortable enough, she was fucking it. Her fingers rubbed furiously at her pussy while she was doing this. Too quickly, she found her lean, shapely frame building up to orgasm. Carmela came, more excitedly and more prolonged than she normally would. Her expulsion was tremendous, leaking out all over and drenching her fingers.
It was so unexpectedly gratifying, Carmela thought, as she removed herself from the molded piece of plastic and began to inspect it. She'd have to clean the stupid thing, she knew, walking away to grab the window cleaner and an old towel. The sultry woman went on to wipe away any trace of what she had just done. Then, she put the vacuum into the closet and went on with her daily business.
But that was only the first time. Since then, she'd brought Mr. Hoover out to play whenever she'd been feeling that special itch. After a few minutes of careful preparation, that ready handle went up her ass again.
The last time, Carmela recalled, she'd leaned over on the edge of the bed and slid her tight butt onto that harsh plastic handle. Over her shoulder she watched what she was doing in the full-size mirror. Carmela got turned on in an overwhelming way, every time she would witness the vacuum penetrating her like this, every time she saw the way the long handle pushed into her and disappeared into her asshole. The result was that each and every one of her orgasms felt better than the last one.
Her next fantasy involved having a real man do this to her. That man, she resolved, was going to be none other than her husband, the elusive Frankie Robles. And now, she was in the parking lot by his sister's apartment, determined to find her man.
As was her habit, Carmela glanced at her face in the SUV's mirror, finding absolutely nothing wrong with it. She looked down at her attire next. That morning, she was wearing a tee shirt colored in heather gray, with a high-low hem and the shoulders cut out. Her lower half was adorned with form-hugging white jeans.
With her sexy appraisal done, Carmela arrogantly stepped out of her vehicle. Employing the haughty walk of a runway model, she approached the security door that blocked the parking section from the rest of the complex. A temporary roadblock halted the woman's progress because she didn't have a key to this one bastard door. Luckily a couple of kids were playing ball nearby. Carmela enticed one of them to come over and open it.
Full of confidence and fire, Carmela strode through the complex. She found the door to Melinda's apartment cracked open. Brazenly, she pushed at it and walked inside as if she owned the place. Carmela had hardly taken two steps inside, when Melinda's curious face appeared from around a corner of the apartment's tiny kitchen. Frankie's sibling was wearing a tee shirt in white with gray three-quarter sleeves, and the words 'designated kisser' emblazoned over the chest. Fading and distressed cut-off shorts covered her lower half. The shorts were in such a bad state that the legs were all frayed. The always fashion-conscious Carmela winced at the other woman's drab assortment of clothing.
"Bitch, you don't just walk into somebody's home, you knock first." Melinda snapped at her, instantly irritated by the other woman's obvious bad vibe.
"Where's Frankie?" Carmela countered.
"He's not here."
