Part 13: Personal Victories

Ramon had never been a cowardly man; yet it was a fine balance of priorities that told a man how to choose between fight or flight. He was right to conceal himself inside the secret passageway within the lacquered mahogany walls of his employer Marcos' office; the bolt-hole that the smuggler and power-broker had prepared in case an unbribable government came to power with cause to move against him.

But it was not police or army that made Ramon grip the wood panels in fright, it was these impossible, unwholesome women. Yes, any man with any manhood would be tempted by their brazen charms, but the wiry, scarred henchmen had seen sights in the past few days to curl the black hairs of his scraggly goatee. Yes, there was a price to be paid for enjoying the carnal delights that these new women offered. Heh! That was too gentle; He had the distinct sense that these sluts were so consumed with passion, that any man not seduced by the mere splendour of their naked presence would be raped.

He shuddered as he watched his boss, employer, and mentor devolving into a shell of a man. Marcos did not bother to wear pants these days; his vigorous cock was now longer than his forearm, and it seemed almost constantly erect. From a small crevice, concealed by the secret door; Ramon beheld the display that was a sickening as it was arousing. The pudgy, fiftyish crimelord was no longer having sex for pleasure, as he pumped furiously into the strange woman with the golden robes, bending over upon his desk, it seemed as though the criminal mastermind could no longer be at peace unless his manmeat was inside a woman's cunt. He rarely spoke anymore, simply grunting, groping... grasping at the nearest proffering of slick, supple girlflesh that was now in ridiculous abundance throughout the estate. His only joy in life was that transcendant moment when he was in the crotch-grinding act of penetrating a woman. No, it was not for pleasure, but rather for relief. Sweating, heaving as he thrusted, it was clear that he had become an animal.

"... And the Government Bonds from your banks in Rio de Janeiro;" instructed the wide-assed, lurid Priestess, producing documents from the shelf beneath the desk, offering them to Marcos, even as he plunged his meat deeper into a moist, warm slit. He scribbled down his signature without even the thought of examining the situation. In the past few minutes that Ramon had watched; the smuggler had signed away tens of millions of dollars worth of property and financial assets to this mystery woman due to her own... assets of a more... physical kind. And there was no regret; only savage joy that he was being allowed to copulate again. Not that these women had high standards... sluts... all of them...

SLUT... he had been using that word quite a bit lately, yet in this case Ramon could not help but pause in wonderment at how absolutely true that word had become. These eerie plant-women gave no thought to the appearance, status, or behavior of any man; they simply tackled anything with a penis and began to demonstrate their arousal with hands, lips, and breasts. The plant-women never wore clothing, (save the Priestess) had no thoughts other than sex, and acted as though... each copulation were a personal victory. Their feminine faces were masks of glee and triumph whenever a penis was inside them, which was often.

No... Ramon would NOT meet his employer's fate! Turning down the tunnel, he resolved to continue with his plan to simply flee; run away and not look back. For good cause; he could not simply refrain, resist. Their allure was too powerful; he had no illusions. Ramon had given in to their charms before, and would do so again. Even if he did not; he was increasingly certain that these she-beasts had the ability and urges to simply force the sex!

The tunnel in which the erstwhile minion made good his flight connected to the attic of the central mansion, and the considerable, illicit wealth that made the estate possible had also made it feasible to install a covert surveillance system within this bare, grim corridor of dull cement. Prudent, the small screens in the first alcove would have allowed Marcos to monitor each part of his estate for threats or intruders - except that these intruders had been welcomed; and the wealthy smuggler and crime boss had been their first victim. Ramon had to stop to adjust his pants; walking was becoming ever more difficult! For he too, had partaken of the brazen offers of these unwholesome, fast-breeding whores and... well, that wasn't quite it, he had simply not resisted when they confronted him with jiggling breast and hungrily-moist cunts. As a consequence, his cock was more erect than he had ever believed possible. His beefy rod had almost doubled in length, and would soon be half as long as the barrel of the AK-47 slung across his shoulder for protection. And he had been hard all day! Sure, a 'morning flagpole' was not unusual for him, but he'd been awake for six hours today; and his penis had never softened, never lessened its ardor in that time. If anything, he was only growing harder... longer... bigger!

No... no... mustn't think about his cock, that would only make the urges worse! It was as though a hot coal had been slipped inside him; a furious burn that inflicted seething pleasure upon his nether regions. Clutching his own shoulders, he grunted as another spasm overtook him, the magnitude of his cravings were so great that his body was suffering... what he might describe as withdrawal symptoms. All of Marcos' men were familiar with such, for cocaine trafficking was a chief enterprise of this criminal operation, yet... it was these women! Their touch was addictive! And continuous indulgence would ruin a man just as surely as the most potent intoxicant. Lips quivering, he struggled to adjust his pants to make more room for his enflamed, incorrigible penis. But he dare not slow, he must check upon his contact; the other with whom he was planning to escape... there, in the screen on the upper-left corner in the alcove filled with surprisingly advanced electronics to monitor the sprawling grounds. Yes... Maria was there and... no... they got to her!

The plain-spoken, late-fiftyish house maid was thrashing upon a bed, tearing at her clothes that had suddenly fallen slack. Once, her aging plumpness had widened her body beyond the parameters of what almost any man could find attractive; yet Ramon could see her figure visibly contracting in the glowing screen, as she jerked and arched her back. The contortion of her ruby lips spoke plainly of her hoarse screams. And when her firm hands tore open her blouse and white apron, the man watching was taken aback - such breasts were not possible! While there might be some rare women whose breasts might approach the size of soccerballs as hers did, surely none could be so... so high... so perky! And of course, she was younger, wrinkles melting until she seemed right at the first cusp of marriageable age. No, her breasts were not growing larger still!? Surely not! The way the bronze orbs hung upon her heaving chest, so high and firm... what of gravity! The weight of such vast bosoms must be considerable! Yet Maria, the transforming house maid possessed blossoming boobs that defied normal physics. In seconds, she collapsed in a quivering heap; and even on the small screen, Ramon could see the moisture within her sleek thighs that bespoke of a successive onslaught of female orgasms.