Hershey's Kiss: A BWWM Pregnancy Romance Novel (3 page)

* * *

Being filthy rich came with its perks. The Boulders didn’t have to fly coach, or pass the security check. They simply walked right up to Brandon’s newly purchased private jet. This was perfect for people with expensive habits like Jeanette. She didn’t have to worry about detection dogs sniffing her crotch, trying to find smack in her twat. She simply carried her stash in her purse like it was chewing gum. As the Boulders climbed up the staircase to their plane, only Brandon took notice of the freshly painted name on the side: Sundress.

* * *

The flight to Fiji took too long for Jeanette’s taste. Brandon and bootleg Brandon roped her into hours of family time bullshit. They were having singalongs now. Jeanette wanted to slit her wrists. She decided, instead, to slip into the bathroom get a quick fix.

“Okay, boys. Mommy’s gotta go powder her nose.” she said.

Powdering noses? Do people still say that?
Jeanette didn’t really care. She just wanted to guzzle down some pills as fast as possible before she went batshit crazy. Jeanette closed the bathroom door behind her. Finally alone, she released a strong sigh of relief; it looked like she was about to drop to her knees and thank God. She rummaged through her purse and pulled out her bottle of vicodin and her little vial of coke. Jeanette laid down two lines of cocaine and opened the bottle of pills out on the counter. She felt like a kid before her Christmas presents. Excited, she admired her little pretties on the sink for a few seconds…While she was rubbing her hands together greedily, the entire plane cabin shook violently from turbulence. Jeanette banged her head against a cabinet and was knocked unconscious…

… …

…

A few moments passed and Jeanette awoke to the sound of a voice. Brandon’s voice.

“Jin, are you okay?”

She groaned, but that hardly served as a response. Suddenly, Jeannette heard the door’s handle fidgeting and the door’s lock clicking. Brandon was trying to come in. Jeanette realised what was happening and sprang to her feet. Unless she wanted to have her cover blown, she’d have to act quick…

“I’m fine!” she yelled. “Don’t come in here. I’ll be right out.”

Jeanette turned around to observe what had happened. All of her pills had fallen down the sink except for one. Her cocaine was scattered over every counter in a fine mist.

“Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!” Jeanette screamed violently. Now Brandon was really concerned and he started shimmying the keys into the door again. Jason also heard the curse words, and he was very concerned. Brandon turned the lock and pushed the door open, but Jeanette heaved the door with her shoulder and closed it again. The door slammed into Brandon’s face. Hard.

“I told you don’t come in here. I’m fine!”

Jeanette snatched the last vicodin pill and slammed it down her throat. Then she wiped up all of the cocaine with a paper towel. With the evidence concealed, she let herself out of the bathroom.

“Didn’t you know it’s not polite to walk in on a lady?” Jeanette said, coiffing her hair and playing up her Betty Crocker voice.

“Geez, Jeanette. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Brandon said, pressing a cold beer onto the bump on his forehead.

Jeanette simply shrugged and pranced back to her seat. The singalongs continued, but Jeanette took solace in the fact that she’d narrowly escaped blowing her cover. And, with one pill, she’d have just enough juice to make it through her bullshit flight without killing herself. Jeanette started to think about the rest of the trip in Fiji. She was flying to the deep jungle of some ass-backwards country, and she was fresh out of drugs. It would just be a matter of time before she blew a fuse, and she knew it. She was in some deep shit.

* * *

Just one day after they’d arrived in Fiji, Brandon locked himself in a room to deal with some unexpected crisis back at headquarters. Jeanette had already been sober for hours, and she was visibly agitated by… EVERYTHING. Jeannette wanted to get her hands on any drug she could find, but she just couldn’t catch a break. With Brandon occupied, the little runt was on her back all day and all night. By the late afternoon of the second day, Jeanette started losing her marbles. She’d broken out into a cold sweat which she couldn’t shake, and the circles around her eyes make her look like she’d gotten a really-fucking-hard punch in the face. Finding drugs became her number one priority…

“Mommy’ll be riiiight back.” she said, while she fixed Jason’s overalls. “You just sit here and keep playing with your toys until Mommy gets back, okay?”

Jason nodded his head cartoonishly, but he had no idea what he was agreeing to. He simply did what he was told, until he forgot about what he’d been told. Jeanette tip-toed out of the condo, trying her best not to alert Brandon. She walked up to the first semi-attractive groundskeeper that she saw and dangled a wad of hundred dollar bills in his face. In the groundskeeper’s experience, white women never walked up to him unless they wanted one of two things: sex, or drugs. Seeing such a thick pile of cash, the groundskeeper instantly knew that she wanted both.

“Let’s go.” He said.

The ‘rules of engagement’ were different in Fiji. If a rich white woman had sex with a local, this wasn’t necessarily considered a bad thing. And, if she decided to leave a gift as a kind gesture, that wasn’t necessarily frowned upon either. In Fiji, people didn’t necessarily use ugly words like ‘prostitution’ or ‘sex worker’. There was no shame in bringing home a little bit of extra money for the family. Vishal had been earning a little money on the side for his family in exactly this way. When Jeanette came around, this was far from his first rodeo. He lead his new customer to a small clearing in the foliage. It had a picture frame view of the mountains and ocean, but it was perfectly hidden from other condominium owners, joggers and dog walkers who might otherwise pop out at the worse time.

There was a makeshift wooden bench nailed to a forked tree. There was a was a rope drawn between two trees and a tarpaulin slung over it. There was thatch bed underneath the tarpaulin shelter.
Not exactly The Four Seasons.
Jeanette thought. Vishal saw the unimpressed look on Jeanette’s face and smiled. He seemed as confident as a fox. His makeshift loveshack didn’t look like much, but he was one hundred percent sure that he was about to fuck Jeanette’s brains out, and she’d love every minute of it. He smiled like the Cheshire cat in Alice, hardly conscious at all that his mouth was checkered with missing teeth. 

Vishal gave Jeanette a strange-looking leaf and pantomimed his message. He rose his hand to his mouth and chewed. Jeanette ate the leaf… and she was instantly lost in a world of colors and incredible hallucinations. Everything seemed so pretty… magical. The panoramic view of the mountains and oceans which Jeanette had ignored before, now seemed like a utopia. It was the type of place where old romantics pilgrimage to. Presumably, they’d feel complete after beholding such ultimate beauty, then they’d shed a single tear and die. The makeshift bench and bed now looked like a blissful boudoir, designed for angels to frolic and enjoy hedonistic pleasures. Vishal himself now looked like a bona fide Adonis, whose body looked like a carefully-chiseled work of fine art. He even had a perfect white smile.

Jeanette stopped for a full three seconds to consider what she was about to do. Would she really fuck this complete stranger who probably had a VD while her son and billionaire husband were just a hop, skip and a jump away?

You’re damn fucking right.

Life was what you made it, and Jeanette would be damned if she wasted her time worrying about what Brandon or anyone else. That wasn’t how the game worked. Losers worry. Winners fuck and dominate.

“Fuck yeah.” She thought out loud.

Vishal could tell that Jeanette was as high as a kite. Good. It was time for the next step...

“I know exactly how you like it.” Vishal said.

Jeanette’s curiosity was peaked.
What more surprises would this bushman bring?
It had been so long since she’d been fucked the way she wanted to be fucked, that she’d let anyone get a piece if he promised to do it right. Jeanette wanted to be ravaged; degraded like a dog. She couldn’t imagine a higher bliss. She wanted a man to do things that weren’t necessarily legal. He had to have the balls to go that far…

Vishal unbuttoned his pants with his dirt-covered hands. The pants themselves were also covered in dirt and fresh grass. His balls smelled like a month of unwashed sweat. The odor was noticeable from six feet away… or at least, it would have been noticeable if Jeanette weren’t off in her psychedelic dreamland. To her, Vishal was no different from a runway model. In her mind, he had fabulous golden locks of hair draped over broad shoulders. He had a spartan warrior’s chest, arms and back. Vishal pulled out his cock. To Jeanette, it seemed like a fat, juicy and beautifully uncircumcised penis.

Considering the fact that it’d been days since her last fuck, Jeanette wanted sit on this fat brown cock immediately, but Vishal had more sophisticated plans. He seemed to be smearing animal fat on his cock. Which orifice would that thing be entering? Her heart rate accelerated in anticipation. Jeanette couldn’t help but think about how she’d always wanted to fuck in a more primitive way -- like cave people used to fuck. What was it like before lube and condoms and political correctness? She could hardly wait to find out…

Jeanette had already flung her panties into the bush, and laid on her back, waiting to have his cock inside of her. Vishal lay on top of her, and smiled… He had a devilish surprise in store for Jeanette and he was now ready to reveal it.

“I know exactly how you like it.” Vishal said again.

He didn’t wait for her response, his simply stuck two fingers in her mouth swished them around so that he could collect a fair amount of spit. Then he stuck those fingers in her ass, still taking his time being ever-so-gentle. Even though he inserted the tips of his fingers, and then slowly pushed them deeper, Jeanette still bawled out when he first penetrated her asshole. It was a combination of pain, surprise and absolute ecstasy. Either way, Jeanette loved the pain. She loved that Vishal was so wild and nasty.

Vishal kept fingering until her ass was well used to having fingers inside. When her asshole was finally relaxed, he pulled his fingers out and slapped her ass hard. The slap left a red palm print along with a little brown smudge. Jeanette swooned with desire at this brute’s aggression. “Fuck me, you animal. Fuck my asshole.”

Vishal obliged. He inserted his animal fat lathered cock up inside Jeanette’s ass, and started pounding. In Jeanette’s drugged up dreamworld, Vishal was a wild beast-man who degraded her in all of the ways that Brandon couldn’t… or wouldn’t. He rammed her insides, and when she squealed in pain, he gave her a scant three second pause before he rammed her even harder. It didn’t matter that she was getting pleasured anally, Vishal’s cock still managed to hit all of the right vaginal spots through the thin wall of tissue between the two orifices. Before long, Jeanette came hard. She sprayed her potent liquid all over Vishal and the thatch bed.

When the time came, Jeanette turned around to let Vishal ejaculate in her mouth. His warm semen trailed down her throat, followed by the layer of “butter” that she’d licked off of Vishal’s cock. It would be several hours before Jeanette was lucid enough to realise how foul her breath smelled.

* * *

Brandon had been on the phone with the executives of Boulder Corp for about two hours. He’d been eyeing the clock restlessly for that last half hour because he wanted to get back to his family quite urgently. To a corporate mogul, two hours was but a blip in time. For his wife and child, two hours could feel like an eternity. Brandon felt guilty about making them wait and he looked forward to making up the time.
Time to spoil them.
He thought. For that last ten minutes locked up in his makeshift office, Brandon felt eerily lone. The condo felt like a ghost town. He became increasingly conscious of the fact that he hadn’t heard any giggles, or running around, or even crying. When he emerged from his workstation, Brandon found out why. No one was there.

One scan of the condo and Brandon knew that something was wrong. The house was left in a type of disarray that could only mean something that bad had happened. Doors were opened, Jason’s finger paints were spilled on the floor, and everything looked like a mess.
It looks as if Jason was all by himself for  a few hours.
Brandon thought. No. There was no way Jeanette could have done such a thing…
No way!
He thought. She didn’t have that type of gall… Right?