The passions that many people hold hidden from view are frequently brought out under duress or tempting conditions.
A woman attending a cocktail party may, after a few drinks too many, lose all inhibitions and take on all comers, male and female alike. A struggling executive suddenly placed in a position of trust and confidence may fall victim to greed and embezzle funds from his employer. Or a couple, responding to group pressure, may join a neighborhood mate- swapping clique. All are responses to unusual stimuli.
Lisa Hopkins is one of these outwardly proper and quite normal people. But within her a love of perversity and a depth of passion she never dreamed existed lie coiled like snakes, awaiting only the proper stimulus to arouse them.
CAPTIVE WIFE-a fictional story about a society that refuses to face many of its real problems.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
How shall I begin?
In the most mundane way possible? Telling you that it started out apparently as a day like any other in the life of a middle-class suburban housewife?
Yes, I believe I will. The more routinely I commence my tale, the more vivid the contrasts will be.
The contrast between those exercises which we think of as everyday living and the shockingly unexpected.
The contrast between those who live within the rules and those who exist to break them.
So, it was a sunny day-no morning fog as there had been for a couple of weeks and the sun shining through the windows. Since I had been depressed for several days, the change in the weather should have lifted my spirits.
In fact, the cheerful climate paradoxically worked to lower my spirits even further.
Sometimes it seemed as though being a housewife was a lot like life in prison-no matter what happened, nothing ever seemed to improve.
My source of consternation now was that the rays of the sun picked up the dust fragments which existed in my carpet and furniture. A sunny day revealed just how filthy my house had become.
A dirty house probably doesn't sound like the end of the world for someone who has never had the responsibility of keeping one. But for a housewife, it's murder. Dust is a badge of failure.
Just one of the badges, though. A housewife's life is full of little reminders that she's not doing a good job.
Besides, hovering dust, there's waxy yellow build-up on the kitchen-floor to tell you that you've been shirking your wifely duties.
And dirty laundry that billows out of the clothes hamper like a greasy cloud to remind you you've been putting off the wash for a week to watch soap operas.
However, all badges of failure do not come from simple household tasks. There are other things that can make an ordinary housewife feel like a slave.
The bedroom. A husband who can't be bothered to take his time.
Everything is over too quickly. You're left high and dry while he rolls over and goes to sleep. You feel nothing. Sex, for all its storied promise, provides nothing but more than frustration in an already frustrated life.
Frigidity.
... Yes, that was my most glaring badge of failure.
My husband couldn't make me come. I had never experienced a sexual climax with Bill.
For years I had accepted this sensually barren condition as the way it should be. If my husband couldn't bring me to orgasm, then I must be incapable of the sensation.
But something happened to change this point-of-view. A simple library book.
It was one of those explicit new sex manuals. I checked it out because of curiosity-and became more and more curious with each page after I had it home.
It was hard to believe they were putting out such stuff for consumption by the general public. Not only was the text replete with the vernacular for the organs and functions of sex, the pictures were totally candid. In other words, when the author referred to a couple making love, there was an accompanying drawing of the act. The pictures were so life-like they looked as though they had been painted by Norman Rockwell.
Nothing was left to the imagination. If the other referred to some specific position of intercourse, you saw it; the prick going into the cunt and everything.
I tried not to get horny while I was reading it, but I couldn't help myself. Those cocks were realistic; the cunts so hairy and glistening... Pricks and cunts I started calling them in my mind. Cocks and pussies.
Then I started saying it. "Look at that big prick in that tight pussy," I heard myself drooling.
I found myself touching the obscene drawing, imagining I could feel the turgid organs throb with arousal.
"No, no!" I abruptly chastised myself. "This is wrong. I musn't do this."
I closed the book and put it aside. However, as I leaned over, my thighs came together and told me I couldn't turn it off just like that. They were damp and hot.
Feeling uncomfortable, I squirmed in my chair. There was a tell-tale squish.
My pussy was sopping wet.
I tried to fight it, but it was no use. Sighing with defeat, I picked up the book again.
It happened to open to a section I hadn't yet seen. Masturbation and Its Uses, it was called.
The only thing bad about masturbation, the chapter boldly began, is all the silly guilt that has been associated with it down through the ages. Masturbation is not only a perfectly acceptable practice, masturbation is good! It feels good and it's good for you.
The adjacent picture bore this opinion out. A naked woman was lying with her legs spread so the reader could see everything. She was playing with her pussy lips and clitoris and obviously moaning.
I suppose on the next page there was a pictorial representation of a man stroking his hard cock, but I didn't go on. I was mesmerized by the sight of a naked woman actually bringing herself to orgasm, without a man in sight.
When I put the book aside a second time I had no further idea of ignoring its contents. On the contrary, I was determined to try out what I had just seen.
My clothes were off within seconds and I was lying spread-eagled on the couch, peering down at all of my gaping cunt that I could see. My hand fell between my legs and I began massaging my fingertips into my tender patch of flesh.
The lips of my pussy were moist and rubbery. My clit was like the tip of a nail.
I climaxed almost immediately, gushing the creamy contents of my cunt down my quivering thighs. I had come! Made myself come! I was hooked.
On almost any boring day around the house-and they were almost all boring-I would find my mind straying from the multitude of chores at hand. Rather than concentrating on dirty laundry, dusty furniture and all the rest of a housewife's responsibilities, I would discover myself obsessed by sex.
I'd try to fight it in various ways-watching soap operas a lot of the time; sometimes actually doing my work-but nothing seemed to work. Always, in the end, I was back to day-dreaming of sex. Anticipating how wonderful an orgasm would feel in the midst of another boring day.
And, if ever there was one of those days, it was today. Despite the renewed presence of the sun. things looked bleak. The slightest stress pushed my mind into the well-worn groove of sex.
I forgot about the cleaning that needed to be done and started concentrating on the itchiness of my cunt. It was tearing me up with its insistence to be stimulated to the the bursting point.
All at once I thought of a good use for the sun. I'd strip and lie in it, positioning myself so that a particularly glorious ray would strike my pussy.
I'd watch myself masturbating with a mirror. With that sun glowing between my legs I'd be able to see everything even better than usual.
I didn't just take off my clothes, I did a strip-tease. Humming the music, I did all the bumps and grinds in the right places, turning myself on with my provocative dance. Maybe my husband didn't appreciate my charms, but in these stolen moments I was my own greatest fan.
Finally I was down to nothing. Going into the bedroom to find the hand-mirror, I passed by the larger mirror on the dresser and got a full-length view of myself. Spontaneously I ran my fingers up and down my naked form, tingling at my own touch.
"Whatever it is, baby, you've got it," I sighed to my twin in the mirror. My mouth was watering.
I found the hand-mirror and left the bedroom for the kitchen, the room in the house where there was the most sun at this time of day. I was thrilled to see it pouring through the window that overlooked the kitchen-table.
Without hesitation I was up there, spreading my legs to the sun on the smooth surface where the family had eaten their breakfast only a couple of hours before. The sense that I was doing something outrageous added to my arousal.
The sun struck me right where I wanted it to. There was an immediate warming trend in the already tepid region of my crotch. When I held the mirror down for a peek, my flesh glowed and the curly hair seemed like spun gold.
The finger of my free hand quickly deposited itself between the folds of my pussy lips. I began vertically stroking it... Up and down. Up and down. Mmmmmmm, it felt so good.
My thumb entered the picture, finding my clit. Big fat thumb-pink little clit.
But then my clit was growing. I could see it happening in the mirror. Getting redder and fatter, until it seemed like a miniature version of my thumb.
Letting out a long throaty moan, I experienced orgasm for the first time. In the beginning of my experimentation this might have been enough. But not now. The more I felt the more I wanted.
Now it was time for penetration. Sticking one finger and then another inside my twat, until all five of them were in there. A cunt full of fingers.
It's amazing how widely a woman's cunt will stretch. This was a little phenomenon of which I never deprived myself.
I liked that whole hand in there. When I drew the fingers up into a fist it felt as though it were the stony head of the biggest cock in the world. The monster prick that is the dream of every woman's fantasies.
Maybe I hadn't found the man of my dreams yet, but with my fist banging away in my pussy I had the perfect replica of his hard-on. If nobody else cared to fuck me properly, I'd just have to do it myself.
And, best of all, the mirror and the sunlight contrived to show me everything in the most intimate detail. Not only could I fuck myself, I could be a voyeur at the event.
My fist was in my cunt all the way to the wrist. My pussy lips sucked at the beginning of my forearm, begging for an even more devastating insertion. There was no way I could get enough.
But I sure as hell tried. The only thing for which I was willing to go the limit anymore was an orgasm.
My fist whammed into my cervix, telling my cunt that all bets were off. I was beating myself internally, going all the way with the tools of sex I had at my command.
"Faster! Faster!" I urged myself on. "Harder! Harder!"
However, if I was a stern taskmistress, I was an even more willing disciple. Doing as I instructed myself, I ripped my knuckles into the secret caverns of my pussy. The results were golden-a rich mother lode of orgasm at my innermost depths.
I was going crazy with desire. Dropping the mirror, I used my free hand to attack my second hole while I was still in the throes of reaming my cunt.
My anus was moist and puckering for my poking fingers. Three of them were immediately within, maddeningly teasing the ultra-sensitive lining of my rectum.
Now I was coming in both orifices. Orgasms in my ass and pussy. Enough double- pronged thrills to make me cry out in ecstasy. Anything could have been going on right under my nose and I would have been too far gone to notice it.
You know, I've often wondered what their first reaction must have been when they walked in and saw me there. Writhing and screaming in the nude on the kitchen-table, with one hand up my cunt and the other working on my ass.
I mean, it only stands to reason that they sneaked in through the kitchen door because they didn't expect to run into anybody that way. Boy, how must it have hit them when they ran smack dab into me?
Especially with all of them just getting out of prison and everything.
CHAPTER TWO
The words, "Don't move or we'll kill you," were my first indication that I had visitors.
Then I looked up into the meanest face I had ever seen on a man. He didn't look like he'd been through hell-he looked like he'd invented it.
"Freeze, baby," he reiterated his desire that I cease movement.
That's exactly what happened. Fortunately for my mortality I was possessed with an instant paralysis. My fingers became like icicles in my cunt and ass. My orgasm was chilled into nothingness.
I looked around the room and saw the rest of them. About a half-dozen desperate men, each of them virtually as mean looking as their spokesman.
"Reckon you know who we are, little lady," the man who was doing all the talking said.
I wished I did, because it seemed as though it might placate them, but I didn't. They could have been a crew of garbage men for all I knew. They certainly looked the part.
"Ain't you been listening to the TV or radio?" the leader asked impatiently. "Read the paper?"
I shook my head.
"Dumb bitch!" he hissed and then slapped me.
The impact stung my jaw and sent me rolling across the table. I landed on the floor in a spread-eagled heap, my hands by my sides.
"Now do you know who we are?"
I didn't, but was afraid to shake my head again. But he kicked me anyway.
"Hey, Chuck, lay off," one of the henchmen carelessly blurted. "I think she's telling the truth."
The man named Chuck wheeled around and slapped him, too.
"Chuck Willis is the head of this here operation," the leader apparently referred to himself in the third person. "And don't nobody here forget it."
He turned back toward me and pinioned me to the floor with his smoldering eyes.
Although he was ugly as sin, there was something almost hypnotic about his face.
He seemed to be interrogating me with his gaze. I suspected that my deadline was nearing for an acceptable response to his insistence concerning the identity of my intruders.
"Willis!" I seized on the name. "You're the Chuck Willis gang!"
"Not bad, bitch," Willis chuckled appreciatively. "Tell me more."
Getting this far with my bluff had only opened a more complex door of uncertainty to me. I guessed they were criminals of some kind, but I wouldn't have been able to pick Chuck Willis from Willie Sutton in a police line-up.
"Well, bitch, I'm gettin' tired of waitin'," Willis leered, rubbing his palms together in apparent anticipation of what he was going to do to me if I disappointed him.
I racked my fevered brain for a clue. Something.
But it was a vacuum. A terrified blank void.
So, I looked. Yes, covertly searched the environment for a thread to my salvation.
There!... There it was on the leg of somebody's faded denims. Stenciled in big black letters: PROPERTY OF STATE PRISON.
I didn't know whether to be happy or horrified. Obviously I could temporarily get myself off the hook by correctly identifying them as escaped convicts, but what would become of me in the long-run?
"You're the Willis gang that just escaped from the state penitentiary," I opted for the present.
"See, boys," Willis smiled broadly, "I told you the crash-out would get us in the headlines.
We may get shot down like dogs, but everybody'll know about it."
There was a murmur from the others and not all in agreement. Apparently some of the boys were a little more concerned about their mortality than their grandstanding leader.
Their eyes seemed to be forming a consensus, secretly voting on a candidate to challenge Willis. The poll ended with all eyes but his own on one man.
He was the handsomest of the lot. And much the youngest. Under the grime, almost a boy in fact.
When he stepped forward, I realized that my anticipation of an out-and-out confrontation had been far-fetched. As I should have realized, this boy had been selected by his peers to deal with their tyrannical leader not because of his force but because of his guile. He would attempt to smooth things over.
"C'mon, Chuck," the kid said affectionately, "cool on down. Don't wanna get your blood pressure up without the prison infirmary for you to get them pills you take."
Willis responded immediately. The kid seemed to have some sort of power over him.
Perhaps they had been homosexual lovers in prison.
The others breathed a collective sigh of relief when their leader backed off. Then there was a kind of silent conference as they read each other's minds. A re-grouping was taking place.
Through it all I lay with my legs agape in the middle of the kitchen floor. I had begun to feel that waxy yellow build-up squeaking against my elbows and butt. Something told me that whatever they would decide would include me.
Then it was all settled. I could tell it by the smooth placidity on their normally rugged faces.
They spread out in a circle, surrounding me. All of them were smiling, now. They had traded their dissension for an object on which they could all agree.
Me. Yes, it was clear that I was to be gang-raped. This was a task on which the unruly escaped cons could all work together rather than fighting among themselves. Teamwork in action.
Their zippers came down in symphonic whirring. Rough hands groped in grimy flies.
Their dicks were out. Six of them and all hard. More like a gauntlet of weapons than organs of the human body.
"Who goes first?" said Chuck, properly toned down by peer pressure.
This was what the kid had been waiting for to seal whatever breath remained between the upstart gang and its chastened leader. "You, Chuck," the boy said with a grin. "Who else but you?"
Willis was both threatened and vain enough to buy it. Maybe the guy was tough as nails, but he could be manipulated like a marionette by a smart cookie.
Of course, as I admired the kid's diplomacy, I also had to get used to the fact that Willis was going to rape me. His huge cock started to look like the horn of a steer to me.
"How do you like it, babe?" Willis swaggered between my gaping legs and wiggled his heavily-veined cock over me.
He had seemed confused during the questioning of his authority, but now the old power had returned to his eyes. He was hypnotic again and I was under his renewed spell.
"Suck my cock," he said. And I did, without hesitation.
It was acrid tasting, as though it had not been washed in a long time. My nostrils flared from its smell.
But I didn't stop sucking. Because Willis had his meaty hands at the back of my head and was force-feeding me his prick.
God, how much was there? Maybe ten inches. And Willis brutally compelled me to swallow every one of them, until my lips were nuzzling his salty balls.
Would I have done it otherwise? Deep-throated him? I don't know-all I know is that one way or another I did it. Fucked him to the hilt with my mouth.
Then he yanked himself out. His cock was waving in the air, glistening with my spit. I found my heart in my throat.
Willis knelt. He was holding his prick in front of him like a sword, only from the direction in which its savage tip was pointed it was clear that I was the one who was going to be disemboweled.
As he plunged forward my brain reeled back to girlhood. I remembered the advice my mother had given me on my thirteenth birthday on the subject of being attacked by men.
"Just relax and enjoy it, Donna. That's all you can do when one of those big brutes gets his paws on you."
It seemed like particularly wise council at the moment. Willis was delivering his dick to my cunt and there was nothing I could do about it.
Except relax and enjoy it. Those wise old words that many an adolescent girl has heard from her mom.
My inner battle won, my muscles relaxed just before penetration. However, upon the intrusion of the head of his cock in my cunt, they re-tightened. This time, however, not with apprehension, but with anticipation.
His prick rammed into my pussy. The head was skidding up my greasy hole with radar on my cervix. This was obviously going to be a deep womb fuck.
I had him to the hilt almost immediately. His hairy balls were rolling against my pussy petals. He was screwing me so deeply it felt as though he might crack my spine.
"Relax and enjoy it," my mother's words counseled me.
Heeding the latter part of the advice over the former, I energetically wrapped my legs around Willis' waist. I could feel the abdominal muscles flexing against my thighs and the ones in the back undulating against my calves and ankles. The man was a powerhouse.
And, at the present time, his dick was the most powerful part of him. It was like a jackhammer in my cunt, cracking my senses to pieces.
Yes, why lie about it, I was coming. Wasn't it just a matter of unavoidable friction? I rationalized. After all, I hadn't asked for this. It had just happened.
The immense cock in my pussy had just happened. Just happened to be pronging me to the ultimate with his deep-thrusting jolts.
And I just happened to be experiencing one shuddering orgasm after another. Captive that I might be, I was pouring more effort into this one than I would ordinarily put in a lifetime of fucks with my husband, Bill.
"Oh, fuck me! Fuck me!" I deliriously babbled. "Fuck me harder!"
It was right up Willis' alley. He had been cooped up in that prison for too long without heterosexual sex not to be able to get the most out of his first woman probably, in years.
His prick became a bludgeon, ramming to depths I didn't know I had within me. Sirens were going off. Bombs exploding.
Then I realized the importance of it. God, how could I have been so blind to avoid recognizing it up until now?
... A man was making me come for the first time!
The first man who'd ever fucked me besides my husband was blowing my mind. Making me come again and again. I was orgasmically soaring with the huge cock of a dirty, vicious escaped convict in my cunt.
God, how I wanted his sperm. His hot sticky jizz flooding me, an ejaculation matching my orgasm.
"Come!" I screamed. "Come, you bastard!"
If I'd ever said such a thing to my husband, Bill would have slapped me silly. However, with this sadistic escaped con who had already punched and kicked me, I felt entirely safe in expressing my emotions. For the first time in my life I knew what it felt like to be a whole woman.
As I had thought, Willis liked being called vile names by the women he was fucking. He laughed at "Come, you bastard," and literally guffawed at "Come, you son of a bitch!"
"Cocksucker! Motherfucker!" I caught on to the game I had inadvertently started.
He loved my dirty mouth. Reveled in the obscenities it hurled out. It was clear that Chuck Willis liked his women trashy.
The gang was loving it. Not only were they deriving vicarious pleasure out of all the names I was able to get away calling their leader, the whole process was keeping the big man happy. Nobody wants an irritable tyrant on their hands.
Nobody in the kitchen was getting more kicks, though, than yours truly and best of all, Willis' cock had grown that tell-tale extra inch in my twat that spelled the imminence of ejaculation. My big bad man was going to come!
"Oh, do it, baby," I abruptly switched from sour to sweet. "Do it to me. You know how bad I want it."
He liked the sudden change from malevolent to mellow. Like an accomplished hooker, I had come up with a boost for the tenderest part of his ego just before he was ready to deliver his goods, thus increasing my prospective reward. I don't know what the whores call it, but I thought of it as touching all bases.
Making sure the man on top of me would come as much in my cunt as was humanly possible.
Willis grunted like the crazed water buffalo he resembled. I could feel his balls cinching into a tight wad to squeeze the sperm out.
"Whoooo-eeeee!" I whooped, as the hot cum filled my cunt. It was like molten lava.
Willis did not stop driving just because he was coming. His thrusts seemed to increase in their intensity while the scalding goo spurted forth. The guy was proud of his jizz and was showing-off the best way he knew how. Similar to a child who likes to show how far he can pee, perhaps but who cared?
I could feel his thrusts and his cum everywhere within the walls of my skin. My body seemed infinite, a carnival of swirling sensual release.
Willis kept pumping harder, harder. The cum was pouring out of his prick. My cunt couldn't hold it all and the excess was gushing down my thighs.
Would he ever stop coming? Where was he getting all the jizz? He must have a hollow leg filled with sperm, I insanely thought.
Then, finally, the onslaught ceased. Willis' dick started to go limp. I began to slowly slide down the other side of my orgasmic mountain.
The only sound in the kitchen for a long while was the steady dripping of the cum from my cunt onto the linoleum floor. It was like delicate chamber music to me, as I luxuriated in the after-glow of the first real fuck of my life.
Little did I know that I had just begun.
CHAPTER THREE
In my post-orgasmic euphoria I had forgotten all about the others. After Willis was through, there were still five guys in the kitchen who hadn't fucked me.
And they were discussing it now. The silence ended, as I became aware of the gamey conversation that filled the room.
Their cocks were all standing in front of them, each one as hard as a rock and twitching like the artery in a psycho's temple. Had they all been pointing guns in my direction they could not have been more threatening.
They were talking about me. My tits, my ass, my thighs and most of all, my cunt. Each seemed to agree my pussy was a beauty and that they wanted to be the next to cram their hard-on inside it.
I suppose a more educated group of people might have decided on a lottery to select which of their number would get next crack at my twat. However, these guys were closer to cavemen than intellectuals. There was no way they'd use their brains when sheer physical power would do.
Then some guy had a bright idea-for a barbarian. "Let's take her all at once," he suggested. "That way the first man there gets her pussy if he wants it."
They mumbled in chorus. Finally their verdict was conveyed through a circle of grimily smiling faces.
It was unanimous. They were going to do it.
Gang-bang me, orgy-style!
Willis, in the meantime, had tottered to his feet. While he watched them shed their pants, he chuckled as though he were General Patton surveying his troops.
When they were all completely naked from the waist down, Willis hustled his charges into a straight line. "It's like a race," he said, "and I'm the starter."
"Where's your gun, Chuck?" some wise guy asked.
"Right here," Willis grinned, dipping down to pull a .45 automatic from his pants. "I holler, On your mark-get set-and then when this here mutha goes off, you turkeys GO!"
The fucker's going to blow a hole through my roof, I ruefully thought. My kitchen would be ruined.
But, on the other hand, I quickly realized, maybe the noise would bring some help. After all, it isn't everyday a .45 goes off in the suburbs.
So I said nothing and watched the boys in action. As much of the respectable part of me loathed them, I had to admit they were kind of cute the way they were lined up like kids at the start of a race.
"On your mark!" Willis bellowed, pointing the deadly-looking gun up in the air.
The gang tensed, coiling for their release.
"Get set!" Willis' gun-arm extended until it was out straight at about a 30 degree angle from his head. It looked like he was giving a Nazi salute with a gun.
There was a deathly pause. It was just a second or so, but it seemed like an eternity.
BLAM! The bullet tore through the roof, leaving a smoky hole in its wake. I got a glimpse of it just before I was buried in an avalanche of five horny men.
Surprisingly, it was the kid, the frailest of the lot, who beat the others to my cunt.
Obviously he hadn't done it with muscle. Whatever brains there were in this scruffy group, it was a certainty he had them.
I saw the big grin on the kid's face as his smooth dick slid into my pussy to the hilt. It was a different feel than I had from Willis' more physical organ, but nonetheless thrilling. I started to come at once.
Now that my cunt had been taken, there was the rest of me to divide up, of course. Four guys left without their pricks in anything, but ready to fuck anything.
The runner-up selected my ass. Slithering under me between the kid's legs, he boosted me in the air while he began stuffing his cock into my asshole.
I'd never had it in the ass before. My husband had always been in too much of a hurry to try anything that exotic and of course, as a respectable wife and mother I wouldn't have dreamed of permitting such a thing, anyway. Nice people do not fuck in the ass.
However, I was anything but nice at the moment. How could a woman possibly be when she was spreadeagled nude on the floor with five horny escaped convicts swarming all over her?
I not only wanted a cock in my ass, I wanted it, a lot deeper than the present occupant had yet accomplished. So I flat-out told him. "Farther! Farther! Stick your big prick as deep as you can in my ass, stud!"
God, it hurt when he did as I'd instructed. But it hurt sooooo gooooood! How could I have been so blind as to fail to recognize what a potentially fantastic fuck-hole my anus was?
There was maybe ten inches of dick up it, reaming me all the way to the bowels. The shit was gurgling in my guts, an orgasm withering me from head to toe.
But I couldn't get used to anything. As soon as I'd started coming as richly in my asshole as I'd been doing in my pussy, a new part of my body was phallically assaulted.
This time my mouth, where else?
A big long cock stuffed itself down my throat, going so deeply that the head was throbbing at the entrance to my stomach. This monster had to be at least a foot long.
The man who owned it was almost as hairy as an ape. Being fucked in the mouth by him was like giving King Kong head.
Bill had wanted me to do this to him several times early in our marriage, but I had always refused. The idea of putting a prick in my mouth had seemed disgusting. A respectable woman would never do such a thing.
Over the years Bill had given up asking me. However, in the meantime, I had developed a secret fantasy about going down on a man. Maybe the moral ramifications of cock-sucking were too much for me in the flesh, but I could certainly dream.
And now the dream was coming true. I was tasting dick. True, I'd sucked Willis' previously, but that was only briefly. This time I was going to go all the way. Eat a prick until it came in my mouth.
With so much cock engorging it, my gullet started to spasm. It wouldn't stop. Soon my stomach was convulsing from the shock-waves. The only conclusion to reach was that I was coming.
So now there were two. Two guys left to split up what was remaining of my naked body to fuck.
The quickest moving decided on my tits as his prey. After all, they were firm yet squishy and could easily be compressed to resemble an exterior cunt. Why shouldn't he stick his dick between them and start pumping like crazy?
On cue, I grabbed my jugs and pushed them together. All of a sudden the hard-on was pistoning within the tight slit it instinctively craved. The friction was vise-like.
My tit-fucker's cock was so long that when he surged upward, the head slammed my chin like a stone. I'd have a black and blue mark there tomorrow-if I lived that long.
And then there was one. One increasingly agitated escaped convict with a fuse that was about ready to blow. A human keg of sensual dynamite.
I had glanced up and was looking at his face. Christ, he was a stupid looking one. I guessed he counted on his fingers and toes.
He looked at my body the way an illiterate looks at a printed page. He was just smart enough to know that something was there, but too ignorant to know what it was.
Then, I swear, I thought I saw a bulb light up over his shaggy head, as though he were the dimwitted cartoon character he so closely resembled. He had an idea.
I didn't want to know what it was, so I closed my eyes and waited. There's a certain superiority in dumbness because the people who are smarter than you never can predict what you're going to do next. I could accept that. So let the big oaf surprise me.
He did. Too dim to think of anything original on his own, he copied what one of his peers was doing. And since the kid had won the first prize of my cunt, he went there, too, assuming it was the best place for his huge cock to be.
The last thing I had expected was two pricks in my pussy. What's more, the second one was even bigger than the first. By himself the kid had been smooth in fucking me-now his tool seemed like a jack-hammer alongside the intruder's bludgeon. A brace of very destructive instruments.
Of course neither of them could hilt me with two dicks vying for position in a severely limited space. For every inch the interloper's cock penetrated, an inch of the kid's seemed to come out. By the time the adjustment had been made, I had half of each prick engorging my cunt.
I got used to it quickly. Maybe the thrust wasn't as deep, but the breadth more than made up for this deficiency. Besides, just the idea of being woman enough to take two cocks in my pussy at once was a total mind-blower. I was coming in my cunt as well as everywhere else.
All five guys were fucking me, so there would be no more surprised unless Willis got horny again. However, to tell the truth, he seemed to be getting his rocks off just by watching and directing traffic. Maybe he felt his leadership position was strengthened as a result of seeing the rest of his men hop around like monkeys on a stick.
I decided to just take things on an even keel for a while. Groove on all the cocks that were pumping away at my most orgasmically vulnerable regions.
Ooooooh, that one in my ass was a stabber!
And the one between my tits was surprisingly good. The guy knew how to fuck and he was rubbing my breastbone raw with his scraping tool.
The one down my throat was a pile-driver. Its owner must have drilled wells before he was sent to the pen.
But, as you may have guessed, the best two were right in my cunt. They had their strokes staggered, so that when one was surging inward the other was pulling out. I felt like I had a two-cylinder engine between my legs.
In the meantime, the pentagonal pumping had increased to a fever pitch. The cocks servicing me had become blurs.
The time for my reverie was over. Now I had to brace myself for the onslaught. The five- peaked tidal wave of cum, with only my body to absorb it.
Who would be first to shoot his wad? If I knew I could clench the muscles around that orifice and prepare myself. But no woman can read the minds of five guys.
So I just cinched up all four places of entry at once, tensing my whole body like a spring in anticipation of the first eruption, wherever it might be.
What luck to have brought my whole body into play. For they all came at once! All fucking five of them.
All at once I was awash with cum, both internally and externally. Not only was that one guy creaming all over my tits, the discharge of the others was overflowing and drenching my body.
Pretty soon the cum pooling beneath me became so thick that I felt as though I were reclining on a blanket of velvet. I seemed to myself to be a queen of sex.
Through the orgasmic fog I noticed that as each dick began to withdraw it was still hard.
Not a man had lost his boner, unlike Willis whose potency had vanished after a single trip up to bat.
Reality intruded like a fist into my consciousness. Why hadn't I seen it before? This was the perfect opportunity to cause dissension in the ranks.
The situation was perfect. Here we had a self-appointed leader, whose troops were apparently not fully convinced of his authority.
Willis had to play the role of the super-stud to the hilt to keep these yo-yos in line. And right now they had hard-ons and he didn't.
"Come on and fuck me again," I strategically invited them to my oozing body. "All five of you at once." I made sure I emphasized the number five.
The sixth man, of course, was Willis and he was furious. "Enough, you apes!" he spat. "Go over in the corner and cool down. She's gonna have it five ways all right-but from the same guy." His prick was suddenly hard again.
He had won this battle. The troops retreated. But to win the war he'd have to deliver as promised.
I couldn't wait to see if he could really do it.
He started at the top. At my mouth, plunging his sword-like dick down my throat.
He was really grinding my throat raw. It wasn't that the thrust was excessively deep, it was rather that the phallic movement was ceaseless.
He came without warning. The sperm gushed into my stomach and bloated it.
Then, in a flash, his prick was out of my mouth. Still stiff, it was moving inexorably toward my tits.
I knew what to do from the time before. The instant Willis installed his hard-on between my tits, I closed them with a slap. The resultant crack was as tight as any hole.
Willis began pistoning anew. The space at the crux of my tits was now bleeding from what this dick was doing on top of the damage from its predecessor.
While he fucked my tits, I squeezed my nipples, adding some sweet agony to the orgasmic mixture. Nothing like a little self-inflicted pain to put a sharp edge on a woman's climax.
This time Willis' cock provided a warning at the moment of truth. Its head surged up into my throat just before it exploded.
The spurting goo was lapping against my throat, washing down until it drenched my tits. I felt as if someone had poured a jar of scalding honey all over my neck.
Putting my hands to my torso, I rubbed the cum all over my body. I massaged myself with cum. I was stickier than an all-day sucker left out too long in the sun.
I finally returned my undivided attention to Willis. His cock was still erect and he was aiming it directly between my legs.
Although this would be his third fuck within mere minutes and his fourth overall this morning, he wasn't even breathing hard. His pride was on the line and the need to prove himself had infused his prick with steel.
My cunt was promptly skewered. He stuck his hard-on up me as though he were a chef testing the dressing in a roast bird.
And like the stuffed bird, my inner juices flowed as a result of the probe. The more deeply Willis inserted his cock, the more vigorously my pussy flushed itself.
He didn't look like he needed any help, but I decided to offer some assistance anyway.
Wrapping my legs around him, I yanked him tightly to the core of my femininity, pulling the head of his cock into my womb and his balls against my vulva.
I squeezed my pussy muscles as though they were the cords in a noose. Willis' prick was locked in my grip, a captive to my vaginal spasms and undulations.
I made the friction between cock and pussy. All of it. Entirely on my own.
The sinews of my cunt were poetry in motion. Erotic poetry.
Willis' prick tried to expand an extra increment, but I held it in check. There would be no advertisements. Just the ultimate product itself.
In other words, if Willis wanted to impress me, he'd have to come. Right now!
It was a geyser. As if I'd sat atop Old Faithful. The scalding flow was ripping up my fuckhole, searing my cunt. Willis had got me everyplace.
Incredibly, there was more sperm contained in this current ejaculation than there had been in its many predecessors. My womb was ballooning to the size of a basketball from its force and volume. For a couple of moments there I must have looked pregnant.
I couldn't hold it all. The excess turned into a liquid cannonball and came roaring from my cunt, pushing out Willis' cock in the process.
All of a sudden, my pussy was a fountain, spewing forth alabaster cream. Waxy yellow build-up was a concern of the past. Right now my kitchen-floor was lumpy with hot white sperm.
After a bout of epileptic-style orgasmic writhing, I got a fresh peek at Willis' tool. Goddamn, it was straight as an arrow!
My ass was next, of course. I could feel the orifice palpitating in anticipation, as Willis lowered his phallic sights a notch.
I wanted it. Oh, God, how I wanted it. But I didn't have to beg for it because I was going to get the full force of the escaped convict's ten-inch hard-on in my asshole whether I liked it or not.
Willis plowed forward as though his cock were a stake which he planned to bury in the heart of a vampire.
... Except that I would not die from the stabbing penetration. My ass was not my heart.
With the first inch of phallic engorgement of my butt, I came as alive as if I had been wired for electricity.
I was sizzling. Sparks were flying inside me, igniting flame after flame to add to my orgasmic bonfire, as my ass was fucked deeper and deeper.
It took longer for Willis to come this time, even though he was fucking my tightest hole and had enough squeezing from my shit-pit to strangle a goose. I wondered if he was tiring out at last.
I glanced at his face for a further clue. It was bright red, with the jaw muscles clenched from effort. Sweat was pouring out of every pore.
He finally came and it was an enormous wad that inundated my bowels. However, the spurting didn't last as long this time and at the end I could feel Willis' dick appreciably softening as he extracted it from my asshole.
I looked and saw that my impression was correct. Although it hadn't reached the wet noodle stage, Willis' tool was embarrassingly drooping at half-mast. If he was going to come the magic number of five, he'd have to do some talking to himself.
He sure wasn't going to get any help from his buddies in the corner. Willis had gone too far in his exhibitionism, turning them from fascinated voyeurs into raucous bleacher-bums.
As long as no one of them had to risk his neck pulling the rug out from under their leader, they wouldn't mind seeing Willis fall on his ass at all.
Willis, of course, knew this. He may have been next to a moron, but somewhere within that thick skull a candle burned. When you come right down to it, I suppose there isn't a human alive who will not respond to the threat of humiliation.
This was Willis. The anti-social enraged bull. Trying desperately to pump life back in his prick and make it as belligerent as the rest of him.
I watched him with wordless fascination, knowing that in his agitated state he would just resent any verbal encouragement from somebody he regarded as just a dumb slut. He was really whacking his meat.
Blotched scarlet by the flogging. Willis' dick slowly drew itself upward. Incredibly, it seemed as though he would actually be able to accomplish an erection.
... Yes, yes, he had it! His prick was standing out as straight as a limb!
But what was he going to do with it? Hadn't he already fucked me everyplace possible?
The mouth? The tits? The cunt? The asshole?
Where else could there be?
The answer, of course, was simple, as befitted the undernourished mind that had invented it. So simplistic in fact that I, with my greater intelligence and imagination, had not been able to anticipate it.
Where else turned out to be no place. Or, if you looked at it another way, everyplace.
Because, you see, Willis had straddled me and was beating off over my naked body. For the final ejaculation that would prove he was a man among men, he was going to come all over me. Jack-off in my face in a final gesture combining triumph with contempt.
Even though he'd gotten his prick hard, Willis was having a terrible time getting any further. His frictioning fist was a blur up and down his shaft, but all that came forth was his increasingly taxed breath. It seemed a question of whether he would pass out or come first.
Teetering and rocking as he stroked, Willis' aura of ruggedness began to rapidly dissipate.
His ruddy complexion was replaced by a shocking pallor. Even through the grime and whiskers I could see that his facial skin had turned into parchment.
No longer did he resemble the big bad escaped convict who wore his outlawry like a badge. I couldn't help remembering the high-blood pressure to which the kid had alluded.
Now Willis seemed like some pitiful middle-aged masturbator, afflicted with a coronary during his secret act, his cock hanging out along with his gasping tongue.
His lights went out just as his dick did the impossible. From somewhere within his depths his phallic equipment miraculously sucked up a remaining wad of cum and propelled it to daylight. However, at the same time, his heart stopped in mid-beat and he crashed forward, his body beating his jizz in the race to land on me.
Pinioned beneath Willis, I had no sense that he was breathing. He seemed, literally, a dead-weight. And I was sure that I had directly contributed to his death.
I was sad and guilt-ridden that a man had apparently died because he couldn't get enough of my naked body.
But I was brimming with pride that I had been woman enough to take the measure of this dangerous male beast.
Before this morning Donna Haley had been a frigid housewife. Now, just a few hours into this remarkable day, she had stopped the toughest of men dead in his tracks.
.. Perhaps I had been a party to killing a man, but, paradoxically, I had never felt so alive in my life.
CHAPTER FOUR
It turned out that Willis wasn't dead, but it was serious.
"I seen 'em like this once before-after he tried to do more push-ups than anyone," one of the cons said. "He was in the infirmary for a month after that. We gotta get him a doc or he'll croak."
A silence followed. I could tell by their faces that some of them were thinking, so what?
After all, hadn't Willis stated that he didn't care at all if he was shot down like a dog? What difference could it make if he went some other way?
In the meantime I had struggled out from beneath Willis' collapsed body and was making coffee for the rest of the cons. I wanted to remain inconspicuous during this time of stress and I figured the best way to do this was to resume playing the role of typical housewife.
"Oh, shit, lookit'm," one of the gang said with disgust, ending the silent deliberation. "He's a goner. Bringing a doc here is too much of a risk and the sucker'll probably kick the bucket, anyway. We got more important fish to fry than Willis."
"Such as?" someone inquired, expressing my sentiments exactly.
"Either we choose up a new head-guy and go through with the original escape plan or we split up right here and now and it's every man for himself," the man stated his position.
"But the last thing we can afford is to stand around tryin' to make up our minds like a buncha gossipy dames."
However, his opinion just made the men more confused. They were used to being led, not making up their own minds. They were beginning to realize that, as ludicrous a figure as he sometimes seemed, Chuck Willis was the glue that held them together. They'd still be back serving hard-time in the state pen were it not for him. Consequently they were innately suspicious of any appeal to their self-reliance.
"You know a doctor, lady?" the rebel recognized and broke through the thin ice of independence on which he'd been standing and began swimming with the school again. "I don't know what came over me-we gotta save Chuck."
The others were made comfortable by this return to the fold of the dissenter in their midst.
All of a sudden I was on the spot, expected by five desperate convicts to come up with the name of a doctor who could attend to their fallen leader.
"There's, uh, well-my p-pediatrician," I finally summoned a response, "but I think he plays golf on Wednesday. This is W-Wednesday, isn't it?"
They agreed it was, so Dr. Berry was off the hook.
"Who else?" somebody demanded.
I racked my brain. There had never "been any serious illnesses in our family. Periodic check-ups were about the only reason any of us ever saw a doctor.
The idea of check-ups made me think of Dr. Knox, but he was a dentist. He'd no more know what to do about a heart attack victim than a plumber.
I was under more and more pressure to come up with something. All of their frustration was focusing on me and if I didn't think fast there was no telling what might happen.
Then one of them was bright enough to start getting specific. The kid again. "When was the last time anybody in your family was really sick?" he asked.
I thought about it. Last December and it was me. I felt I had no alternative but to tell them about it.
"What was it?" somebody barked from the rear.
"Uh, f-female problems," I stammered.
"And who did you see?"
"Well, uh, my gynecologist, of course. Dr. V-Vincent."
"Call him!"
I tried to protest that Dr. Vincent had been so long out of medical school specializing in gynecology that he probably wasn't even sure anymore just where the human heart was located, since it had nothing to do with the female reproductive organs. However, I stifled this caution when it met with unyielding resistance. These guys wanted Dr. Vincent in this house, pronto.
I phoned the doctor with a gun to my head. Under the circumstances, it was amazing how steady my voice was, as I told the nurse how my vagina was hemorrhaging and could Dr.
Vincent get over here as quickly as possible. It's astounding how the threat of a bullet through the brain can clean up one's act.
"Can't you get to the hospital, Mrs. Haley?" the nurse insisted on trying to save her boss some extra work. "Housecalls are generally against Doctor's policy."
The muzzle of the gun pinched the skin of my temple with twisting emphasis of my precarious mortality. My brains were just one false move from being all over the floor.
"IT'S AN EMERGENCY!" I shrieked into the phone. "CHRIST, I'M BLEEDING TO DEATH FROM BETWEEN MY LEGS!"
"Oh, uh, I see," the nurse reacted timidly. "Doctor will be over as soon as he can."
I breathed a well-deserved sigh of relief as I put the phone on the hook. "He's on his way," I announced. "Anybody want some coffee?"
Five minutes later we were all in the kitchen, drinking coffee just like a bunch of neighborhood housewives with nothing better to do. I'd passed away many a morning like this, but never with a gang of escaped convicts.
The doorbell rang and everybody jumped, assuming it was Dr. Vincent. I, however, looked at the clock on the stove. It had been too short a time between when I'd called his office and now for the doctor to show up. Probably if I answered the door it would be to greet some poor soul who had inadvertently stumbled into a nest of vipers.
"I'll get it," I started for the door.
"Nothin' funny," somebody growled. "We'll be right behind you, with the gun pointed at your back."
I opened the door and I was right. Standing there was not Dr. Vincent, but a delivery boy from the local nursery with a potted begonia in his hands.
First, I recalled how I had purchased the plant earlier in the week on a shopping excursion and it was supposed to be delivered. Second, I noticed how severely the boy's hands were trembling, placing him on the verge of dropping the pot.
Did he already know something? I had to be careful how I handled this. Scared people do funny things and if this delivery boy suddenly broke loose there promised to be an awful lot of wild shooting.
"Why don't you just set the pot down on the porch and I'll go get you a tip," I said.
He dropped the pot. The crash seemed enormous. I prayed the desperate criminals at my rear would not mistake it for a gunshot and retaliate with me in their line of fire.
"Oh, you dropped my begonia plant," I hastily explained for the benefit of the convicts massed behind me. And then, not making any sense at all, except to them, "I was expecting my gynecologist."
For some reason the delivery boy seemed far more attuned to this ostensibly bizarre statement than I had anticipated. "I-I guess that explains it," he finally mumbled, obviously trying to look away from me but fixated nonetheless.
"Explains what?" I asked sharply, very anxious to get rid of him.
He thought about it for a moment. Thought about whether he should say what he was going to say. His decision made, he blurted it.
"Why you're not wearing any clothes! You're as naked as a jay-bird, ma'am!"
I looked down at myself with alarm. Of course I was nude. The convicts and I had gotten so used to it that we hadn't given it a thought when I went to answer the door.
I suddenly blushed. This was too much. Answering the door in the raw for a delivery boy. I temporarily forgot about my life being in danger and concentrated on how demeaning this was.
"Are you really waiting for your gynecologist, ma'am?" the delivery boy chidingly interrupted my humiliation. His attitude had clearly changed.
"What do you mean?"
"You knew I was coming by with your begonia sometime this week."
"I beg your pardon."
"I was just thinking-maybe you got a little horny and answered the door like this for me."
"For what possible purpose?" I tried to drive him away with a withering glare.
He didn't answer verbally at first. Instead, he dropped his hand down to the crotch of his tight jeans and stroked the taut bulge there. "This!" he finally said.
"Do you mean that you think I want to fuck you?" I asked incredulously.
"Why not?" he shrugged. "I'm willing, if you are."
The convicts, of course, were eavesdropping on all this. I had no way of knowing how they were reacting, until I heard one of them hiss, "Do it!"
"D-did I h-hear somebody inside say s-something?" the delivery boy abruptly lost his nerve.
"No," I reassured him, "that was just my cat hissing at something."
The scenario was clear now. I was supposed to give in to this punk kid and haul him in and fuck him, as the easiest way to get rid of him. Leave it to a bunch of men to come up with a solution like that.
But what could I do but play the role that had been picked out for me? If I wanted to keep on breathing I had to let these thugs call the shots for me.
"Hey, don't lose your boner," I said to the delivery boy. "I told you it was just my cat. My husband's at work. My kids are in school."
Fear departed, replaced by a big grin. "Then I was right? You want to fuck me?"
"You better believe it," I somehow transformed a sigh into vibrant rasp. Then I grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him inside, kicking the door closed behind us.
Shielding the boy from a view of the kitchen with my naked body in case the convicts were still amassed there, I guided him toward Bill's and my bedroom. On the way, I unzipped his pants and started pulling out his stiff dick.
By the time we hit the bed, I had his cock and balls all the way out. I stuck his long slender tool in my mouth and went down on him, while I pulled his jeans from his legs.
It was a young prick and a tasty one. Even though I had implemented this seduction out of cold-blooded calculation, perhaps it might provide a welcome interlude from being held hostage by a ruthless band of escaped convicts.
Switching off all other knowledge of the present, I concentrated on the delivery boy's hard- on as though it were the sum-total of the universe. It was a defense-mechanism that only a woman could employ.
This cock in my mouth became everything to me. The meaning of my existence. I had to handle it perfectly.
Suck it down to the root, twisting my lips around the top of my lover's scrotum. Deep-throat him until I gagged.
Oooooh, his prick was moving in my throat like a fish out of water. Choking with pleasure on his immense cock, I reflexively inundated his tool with hot, searing licks.
He loved it. A lifetime of delivering begonias might never bring another fantasy-come-true like this. This was a delivery boy's greatest moment.
"Oh, baby, you can suck my prick anytime!" he trumpeted the news of his abject glee. "I love the way it makes you gag."
He'd like the way it felt in my tight but juicy cunt even better. I had totally transcended my inhibitions and was dying for him to fuck me.
Pulling my lips from his cock, I left a sheen of spit for the swiftest of penetration between my legs. I wanted him to stab to the hilt in my pussy as though he were wielding a sword.
I rolled over on my back and spread my legs. My cunt flexed at the center of my thighs like a hairy fist. It felt like a festering wound, inflamed with fever.
"Do it to me!" I urged the delivery boy. "Fuck the bored housewife the way you've been dreaming about it. Stick your cock in my cunt and fuck me. Hard!"
Before he could prong me, he had to stop and drool. He looked at my gaping twat the way a hungry six-year-old ogles a piece of birthday cake. At his age he'd probably seen some pussies, but never one as good as mine. After all, I was close to being a real blonde.
I eventually had to stop the gawking by scissoring him with my legs and yanking him abruptly toward me. When he fell forward, his cock hit the bull's eye on the first thrust.
All of a sudden inch after inch of hard male cock was surging up my cunt. The phallic descent into the maw of my loins was slick and sure, as neat an incision as could have been made by a surgeon's scalpel.
I kept my legs wrapped around the delivery boy's waist, jamming him at the spine until his cock was within me to the hilt. The pulsing head was filling my womb. The smooth balls were rolling against my pussy lips.
It would have been easy at this point to just lie there, obligatorily twitching my ass while awaiting the inevitable. The delivery boy was already having the time of his life and he was going to come like a geyser no matter what I did. And then, after I'd wiped the dew off his cock I could get rid of him and win another reprieve from a bullet in the brain.
However, something within me was too much woman to take the easy way out. After all, when she's fucking, a woman's satisfaction is on the line. If I had realized this during all my years of marriage to Bill, maybe we wouldn't have wound up so bored with one another.
In other words, I wanted to do more with this boy than merely service him. Blow his mind, would be more like it.
So I put a hand between us and slid my fingers under his scrotum and up into the crack of his sweaty ass. His anus was there waiting for me to attack and I did so with three digits.
I gouged down against his youthful prostate, stimulating the very core of his sexuality. It must have made his balls feel as if they'd suddenly been hot-wired.
I still had a free hand, so I used it to cup the back of my teenage lover's head and push his face into my tits. "Suck 'em!" I intensely ordered.
His tongue went right to the nipples. Mmmmmm, his taste-buds were so raspy and my tits so ultra-sensitive. I started orgasming in the breasts in addition to the continuous climax between my legs.
We grooved like this for several moments, getting the absolute most from each other.
Whenever the delivery boy would seem on the brink of coming, I would relieve my combined pressures just enough to keep the stopper in. I was determined that when his nuts finally gave way to the ocean of cream bursting their seams, V, alone would have willed the action.
Eventually I decided it was time for some liquid fireworks. My three fingers in my lover's ass became the talons of an eagle's claw, digging into his swollen prostate gland. Then, with a lurch, I pulled out. There was a sound like a champagne cork popping.
The delivery boy's balls slammed together. His cock stabbed to new depths. The boy himself groaned as though an arrow had just pierced his shoulder-blades. And then he came.
The youthful sperm gushed into me, swirling to the depths of my womb. The copious moisture triggered something at the core of my being and I experienced an overwhelming orgasm to go with my lover's cum.
The jizz backed up in my pit of love and then came charging back out. Even though the delivery boy's cock remained in my pussy, the goo came pouring down my thighs, drenching the bedding.
When the boy finally withdrew his prick, I was flat on my back, moaning with satisfaction. I didn't want to get it over with anymore. I was prolonging my climax as long as possible, stalling before I had to return to the grim reality of the convicts.
Where were they, anyway? Watching like a bunch of peeping toms through the door?
Peering through the orgasmic haze, I uncontrollably glanced toward the door. I had a feeling fate was about to creep up on me again.
There they were. The hallway was dark, but I could see their eyes darting back and forth.
The pack of rats.
"Ssssst-ssssst," one of them hissed for my attention.
The delivery boy overheard it and jumped. "Wha-what w-was that?" he stammered with alarm, apparently certain my husband had come home to kill him. If only the danger had been so mundane.
Holding my hand behind my back, I gestured clandestinely for restraint from the cons.
Things could get messy if they weren't kept in their place and I'd have to assume that responsibility as long as their regular leader, Willis, was comatose in the kitchen.
"Did you hear a noise?" I asked the boy.
"Yes-"
"Sssssst."
"-there it is again!"
Damn fools, I angrily thought. Why don't they shut up and leave it to me?
"Oh, that noise," I coolly forced myself to giggle like a silly schoolgirl, simultaneously afflicting myself with the deep blush of simulated embarrassment. "I-I'm afraid I made that little noise."
"How?" I'd never seen anybody look more perplexed.
"I farted. It always happens when I get a deep fuck from a well-hung stud. Can't help it."
He bought it hook, line and sinker. In fact, a little too enthusiastically for my taste.
"Do it again!" he excitedly urged, drool flapping from his lips. "I've never been with a chick this far-out. Boy, you older dames are really something."
Believe me, I'd have been a lot more pleased if he'd flattered me about something besides farts. However, I knew from reading it in Cosmopolitan or someplace that in the heat of passion some males were turned on by the inner vapors of their woman's ass. Different strokes for different strokes, I rationalized my distaste away.
"Ssssst," my fibrillating asshole replicated the hisses from the hallway.
"Yeah, that's it!" the delivery boy announced excitedly.
A wave of stench arose from the nexus of my flanks and blanketed the bed. The boy wiggled his nose as though he were a hungry rabbit.
"Like it?" I asked, just barely concealing my anxiety.
"I hadn't smelled it before," he replied, "but yyyuuuummmmm. I'd eat through ten pounds of shit to get where that came from!"
I immediately recognized the venue to the stalling of the convicts I wanted to do. "Why don't you see if you have to," I trilled and spread open the cheeks of my ass before his eyes.
"What an asshole," his mouth watered. "Jesus, it's prettier than your cunt."
"See any shit?" I coquettishly asked.
"Not a speck," his voice oozed, as he ran a fingertip around the puckering knot of my anus. "It's all pink and shiny. I've never seen anything cleaner."
"Why don't you taste it?" I suggested. "I'm sure I could find some use for about six inches of tongue up my ass."
To make him my prisoner, I did a quick flip over onto all fours and presented him with my splayed backside as though I were a bitch in heat. Now my flexing asshole was confronting the delivery boy on eye-level.
He fell to the gape of my butt. Suddenly my asshole was smothered with kisses, coating the outer rim with a slick coat of spit.
Lubricating spit that provided the liquid ball-bearings for the abrupt thrust of the delivery boy's rigid tongue. Within seconds I had my six inches and his teeth gnashing against my asshole.
"Get it all wet and wide in there, sonny boy," I called from in front while he reamed me out.
"Because you're going to have your prick instead of your tongue in there before you know it."
Boy, that got him excited. His tongue started to quiver in my ass like an erotic tuning-fork. I could feel the tremors all the way to the depths of my colon.
"Come on," I urged, "do it harder. Really make it sloppy in there."
The tongue got hold of itself and resumed probing. At the same time the muscle expanded, its force widening the walls of my rectum. A stallion would be able to get his hard-on inside me after this boy got through tongue-fucking my ass.
During this process, I glanced over toward the hallway. The beady eyes were still there.
But at least their owners were mollified enough by the hot action on the bed to keep from messing up the works.
My plan was ingenious. By getting all the sex from the delivery boy I could, I was not only experiencing orgasm after orgasm, I was possibly delaying another meeting with the cons.
After all, wasn't Dr. Vincent supposedly on his way? What if he showed up while the gang was still absorbed in watching me hump the delivery boy? In the confusion I might get away.
And going even further back than the summons to my gynecologist, there was that shot Willis had fired through the roof. Maybe somebody had heard it and called the law. The police might have deduced that the escaped convicts for whom they were looking were holding me hostage. A circle of heavily armed cops might be surrounding the house right at this moment.
So I slowed down the pace and just let the delivery boy groove on my ass with his tongue as much as he wanted. The longer he took, the better I liked it. Whenever I became temporarily impatient for expanded action, I just reminded myself that my life was at stake.
However, there's no way a woman can keep a horny male's cock out of her anus forever if she's already issued the invitation for an ass-fuck. Eventually the delivery boy had enough of his oral preparations and was ready to go to work on my spasming rectum with his hard prick.
I took his penetration with a heavy sigh at first. But then the cock started to pour into my ass like molten lead and I screamed bloody murder.
Just imagine if I'd done that under any circumstances other than sex with these barbaric escaped convicts around. They'd have blown my head off for making so much noise, assuming I was insubordinately crying out for help. But in bed-with several inches of cock fucking my ass-they just took it for granted that a woman should scream her guts out like an unruly animal.
I did the bloody-murder number again, enjoying the squall I was raising. Signaling for help and articulating the primal joy of anal orgasm at the same time was sort of like combining business with pleasure.
Those horny convicts were drooling for the cum-shot now. This had become a 3-D pornographic movie to them by now. You might say they were avidly anticipating the climax.
I picked up the cons' vibes in the air. I sensed that they were so wrapped up in the action on the bed that a helicopter full of cops could be landing on the roof and they wouldn't be any the wiser.
However, one crucial variable of my equation did not materialize. My ears did not pick up any sign of concern of the outside world for my safety from a police helicopter on down. I had succeeded in getting this pack of wolves at bay and now there was nobody there to throw a net over them.
... Not even one lousy knock on the door.
Then, suddenly, I forgot about my troubles. The delivery boy was getting ready to come. I could feel his cock expanding in my ass and his balls charring like charcoal briquettes against the tender inner flesh of my splayed buns. Above, he was grunting like a weightlifter.
"Come in me, you little bastard!" I shrieked. "Fill my ass!" On this yell I had no thought of outsiders. It was just for me.
His cock erupted on cue. It was flinging hot rivets into my bowels, whacking the shit from its moorings. I was gurgling inside like I'd swallowed an overdose of Ex-Lax.
It all felt so excruciatingly good.
Those horrendous internal convulsions that seemed to extend up and down my alimentary canal from my tonsils to my asshole and back and forth again a dozen times.
The cum that had spread like scalding honey in my colon. I felt like I had been corn-holed by a bee-hive.
The orgasm seemed to be some sort of monster who had devoured all the preceding climaxes in order to make itself all-powerful. Jesus, I had never dreamed I could come this hard!
And last but not least, those eyes watching my every move from the hall as though I were the queen of the movie stars. I could feel them, too.
Finally the whole ball of wax became too much for me. My orgasm rocketed me over the edge of consciousness and I passed out.
I never even heard the knock on the door when it finally came.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was Dr. Vincent, of course. When I came to I could hear his voice wafting from the living room. One of the convicts was with him, apparently pretending to be my husband.
"Where is your wife, now that I'm here, Mr. Haley?" the doctor said sharply. "It seems to me that you could have driven her to the hospital. I certainly would have never come had I known you were here."
"Uh, well-" the convict thought out his answer. "I'll tell you what. I jus' got home and the car's broke down anyway."
I remembered enough about Dr. Vincent to know that he was looking at my so-called husband at this moment as though he were a fresh turd. He was a pompous bastard. And the convict, of course, was an obvious moron.
"Well, where is she?" the doctor demanded to know. "I'm a busy man. I haven't got all day."
"She's in a bedroom," the convict mumbled. "I'll show you."
When I heard their footsteps approaching me, I was able to shake away the rest of my cobwebs. Looking around the bed I saw that the delivery boy had been removed, however, I was still nude and sticky and oozing cum.
I could only surmise about the delivery boy's fate. I assumed it was unfortunate.
Anyway, callous as it was, I had to forget about him. I could only survive by looking out for number one. And now old number one was going to have to handle another man.
Dr. Vincent was being led into the bedroom by the bruiser who was supposed to be my husband. The doctor must have wondered how we could afford to live in such a nice neighborhood, since my husband looked like a ditch-digger at best.
"All right, Mrs. Haley, what seems to be the problem?" Vincent asked impatiently, as he strode toward me. The guy had a bedside manner like a Nazi.
I quickly glanced into the face of the convict who was playing my husband for a clue as to how I should respond. All I saw there, however, were two eyes stuck in a pan of meat and they were glazed. Even though I was walking on a tightrope of approval from the birds, they'd left me on my own once again. I was beginning to wonder how they'd ever had enough brains to escape from anyplace.
I remembered that I'd told the nurse I was hemorrhaging. I stuck with this line now.
"All right then, Mrs. Haley," he snapped, "Please stop playing peek-a-boo and lift the covers so I can check you now. And since you have dragged me from my office and there are no gynecological stirrups, please spread your legs as far apart as possible."
I had no alternative but to comply, even though the doctor was going to get the surprise of his career. Pushing the bedding away, I exposed my naked body and opened my legs until my cummy crotch was agape.
Dr. Vincent peered down into the bubbly mess and then recoiled. My God, you dumb bitch, that's not blood down there! That's-that's-"
"Fresh cum," I acknowledged the obvious.
"But I don't treat patients who have just had intercourse! Against my policy! Too messy!"
The guy sounded like a psychotic.
"It's against your policy to make housecalls, too," I mewed. "But here you are."
"So?"
"Proceed with the examination. I'm dying to feel your fingers inside my pussy."
He gulped. Stammered and fidgeted like a boy who has to go to the bathroom but is afraid to ask. But he didn't leave.
I swiveled my ass around so he would have a better look at my cunt. Making the lips suck, I invited him in my most womanly fashion.
His face was pale, but I had stopped looking at it. The reaction in which I was interested would be generated by whatever he had between his legs.
His cock was bulging in the crotch of his pants. The examination had turned into a seduction.
Of course, he was too prim to admit it. The jerk actually went through the motions of making a pelvic exam. Sticking his fingers in my pussy and widening them so he could peer around-sniffing for tell-tale odors.
I squealed .every time one of his fingers probed a sensitive spot, but there wasn't enough of it. I'd have to give the good doctor a little more encouragement to stop playing gynecologist and start playing lover.
"I'll bet you could find out more about my pussy if you put all of your fingers inside of it," I suggested.
In most cases doctors bite the heads off patients who kibitz. Not this time, though. There were five fingers stuffed up my twat by the time I completed my next breath.
"Now make a fist," I suggested further. "The cum that's already inside my cunt will make it slide up into my womb."
He did it as though it were a standard gynecological technique. All of a sudden my uterus was engorged with knuckles and I was orgasming all over again.
"Fuck me with it!" I dropped the last vestiges of my patient's pose and became an unbridled sex machine. A full-blooded woman was fistfucking the one man in the world who knew the most about her cunt.
"Sock it to me!" I screamed. "The more it hurts the better I like it!"
How alien it must have seemed to a gynecologist to perform such brutality on one of his patients. However, on the other hand, given the vigorous fashion in which Vincent was going about it, perhaps torturing one of his patients had been a deep-seated fantasy for years.
In any case, his fist was like a battering-ram, as it thoroughly fucked me. The only aspect which it lacked to keep it from being identical with a giant hard-on was a load of hot sperm at the end of its thrusting.
Oh, well, I'd get that treat somewhere else. Already I was tugging at the doctor's fly, trying to free his cock and balls.
By the time Vincent had his fist out of my pussy, I had fully extracted his turgid equipment and was stroking his heavily veined shaft, slowly pulling the foreskin to and fro. "I'll suck you, first," I told him. "I was always curious about your prick when you were examining my cunt in your office."
I stuffed it into my face. Maybe it wasn't as big as some of the others I had been sampling today, but it would do. I was starting to learn that each man's hard-on is different and a woman just has to make the most of what she has to work with.
"I've always dreamed this would happen," Dr. Vincent suddenly confessed, as I worked my suctioning lips down toward his hairy balls. "That some woman would become so excited during a pelvic exam that she would be unable to keep her hands off me."
"It's pretty hard to do when you're in those stirrups, Doc," I released his cock enough to crack. "Maybe you ought to make more housecalls."
"I always wear a lab-coat in the office," he continued babbling. "I don't want to give myself away by having a patient see my erection throbbing in my pants."
"Then gynecologists do get off on their patients' cunts," I made the appropriate conclusion.
"When I'm through work for the day my balls are aching," the doctor revealed. "If it wasn't for my nurse providing me with some relief, I might have to give up my practice."
"Well, Doc, it looks like your frustrations are over," I said. "On your first housecall you got lucky. A patient as horny as you are, who doesn't have a big mouth. Your medical ethics will be our little secret."
"But you could blackmail me," he eyed me with sudden suspicion.
"I could also slam close my legs and refuse to let you fuck me," I bluffed him. "Come on, Doc, tell me, are you ready to miss out on your dream come true? If you don't fuck me, it'll haunt you a lot more than any damn blackmail. I know you want it."
I didn't even wait for a reply, so confident he was now my puppet that I went back to deepthroating his cock without further comment. Anyway, if he was having trouble deciding which way to jump, a hilted blow-job would yank him in the right direction.
This time I gobbled him until I was gagging. I fought for breath but my nostrils were stuffed with matted pubic hair and the corners of my mouth sealed with scrotum. I had as much of his cock as my mouth could take.
Having realized the objective of maximum penetration, I now moved on to another oral technique. Moving my lips up and down, I began to truly fuck him with my mouth.
Eventually my stroke had become so grand that my lips were traveling repeatedly between the head of the doctor's prick and his nuts. Every time his organ came back into view it was redder. With the lights out it probably would have glowed.
I stopped sucking his cock just short of an ejaculation. If I let him come in my mouth I would be taking a chance that he wouldn't be able to get it up again and do justice to my hot, slobbering cunt. His fucking me proper was part of my plans, so I wasn't going to let him get out of it because of a simple blow-job.
After I had orally released his tool, I threw my shoulders back and wrapped my legs around him. Then, as I drew his hard-on toward my cunt, I raised my legs, pulling them out from under his arms. My twat was a tunnel, now-if Vincent's prick had been a diesel truck he still could have driven it inside.
His cock slammed into me, driving to my depths. My womb began to flutter from the kind of orgasm only a thrusting hard-on can produce.
The doctor lifted me right away, but that was just the beginning of his action. He was practically bursting at the seams with lust and he began sucking my tits, while his fingers traveled all over me.
At the same time he gnashed a nipple with his teeth, one of Vincent's hands slid into the crack of my ass. Finding my anus, he began pinching its puckering folds, twisting around the delicate flesh.
"Stick it in my ass!" I pleaded. "Let me feel your fingers wiggling inside me!"
He penetrated with two digits, sending them scooting up my rectum at divergent angles.
He was pulling my asshole apart.
"Deeper! Harder!" I implored, despite the pain.
He was a jump ahead of me. Deep and hard weren't the extent of his tricks. He could also slant his digital thrust upward, colliding in its ascent with his pumping cock in my adjacent cunt.
There seemed to be a welding at the crux of my being, as the two instruments of penetration came together. Then, in addition, I lost my ability to distinguish between my asshole and pussy. Everything was as one, as I came and came and came.
"Switch holes," I impulsively suggested. "Fuck me in the ass with your cock for a while and finger my pussy."
"I'm a gynecologist not a proctologist, my good woman," he said, but it was a joke.
Besides being rabid to fuck me any way I told him, the old boy was loosening up a bit. I was even starting to sort of like him.
"When you've got a woman in the stirrups for a pelvic exam, do you ever sneak a peek at her ass, Doc?" I asked him, as he withdrew his cock.
"It's the most intimate orifice of the female body," he practically swooned. "So pink and dainty, especially on a woman under forty."
"How old do you think I am?" I out-and-out flirted.
He expertly pushed apart the cheeks of my ass and peered with a professional eye at my tauty gaping bunghole.
"Well?" I wanted to know his opinion. A woman always gets anxious when it comes to her age.
"I'd be very surprised if you're a day over twenty-five," he announced hungrily smacking his lips at the end of the statement. "Am I right?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out," I giggled like a schoolgirl. Actually I was thirty- six and had a couple of teenage kids, but I wasn't going to let him know that.
If my gynecologist wanted to think I was twenty-five, I sure as hell felt twenty-five.
Oh, if I'd only known at twenty-five what I knew now. For instance, how good it feels to have a man's big cock start to burrow up your asshole, as Vincent's was doing now.
"Ram it, stud!" I urged. "And don't forget about your hand in my pussy-preferably in the form of a fist!"
He rammed it in.
"Oh God!" he gasped.
He rammed harder.
Wham, wham, I was blessed with the instant materialization of the two phases of my desire. Vincent's cock was in my ass all the way to the balls and his fist was jammed up my pussy all the way to the wrist.
The dual stroking began and it wasn't long before cock and fingers renewed their collaboration in the deepest recess of my body. Only this time the prick was driving from the bottom and the fingers were balled into a fist in my twat. The struggle between the two bludgeons was electrifying.
The bed almost broke from the action, as Dr. Vincent furiously double-pronged me. And I almost broke, too-he was tearing me apart inside.
"Switch again!" I cried when the erotic pummeling had me on the brink of my second unscheduled trip of the morning to never never land. There were still those convicts to deal with when the fucking was over and I was too vulnerable to afford luxury of passing out again.
Vincent's cock pulled out of my ass just when he'd been on the verge of drawing blood and his fist made an exit from my cunt under similar conditions.
Within moments his hard-on and fingers were back in their original fuck-holes. Fortunately for my sanity he spared me a fist in my ass.
The action became more and more intense. The doctor started switching on his own initiative, continually transferring cock and fingers from hole to hole. Eventually he forgot about his hand and just started fucking me on alternate strokes in my ass and pussy.
His motions were so quick that it was like being fucked by two cocks at once. All I could do was spread my thighs a little wider and scream for him to never stop.
But, of course, he would have to stop eventually. A man's hard-on can only take so much friction before it explodes. And apparently the convicts were willing to wait for this to happen before they hauled Dr. Vincent to tend to their fallen leader. The string would be played out when I finally felt his cream spurting between my legs.
I could do nothing to hold Vincent back any longer. He was hell-bent on coming, not caring whether it was in my ass or pussy.
As it turned out, it was in neither. The doctor's cock betrayed him in the middle of a switch and sprayed all over my belly and tits. All of a sudden I was bathed with scalding male gunk.
I tried to keep Vincent aroused by smearing his sperm all over me-including my face, eyes and hair-but it was no use. His eyes remained ablaze with eroticism, but his dick was starting to forlornly droop. It was a case of willing spirit and weak flesh.
While the exhausted gynecologist gasped for breath, I looked beyond him toward the door. As I'd anticipated, the troops were advancing into the bedroom.
Without knowing what hit him, Dr. Vincent was suddenly bear-hugged and made airborne. Squawking like Donald Duck, he was carried bodily from the bedroom to his first male patient.
"You've done a good job, ma'am," some bruiser said to me with obvious sincerity. Then I looked around at the others, they all nodded in agreement.
I knew I wasn't supposed to, but I felt good.
CHAPTER SIX
Dr. Vincent's diagnosis for Willis was a massive heart attack and the prognosis was dim.
"Frankly, gentlemen," the doctor addressed the convicts in a clipped tone that indicated it was impossible for him not to be pompous when he was practicing his trade, "your leader will probably be the only one of you who is not captured and returned to prison."
"How so, Doc?"
"If he's not rushed to an intensive-care unit within the next ten minutes, he'll be dead inside of an hour."
It was their move. And adding to their consternation, they didn't like this doctor one bit. All he'd done for them was snag an easy piece of pussy off their hostage and then tell them their leader was as good as a corpse.
These convicts were the simple kind of folk who believe that bad tidings are the responsible of the bearer. If somebody tells you something you don't want to know, blame him.
"You sure you're tellin' us the truth?" Dr. Vincent was given a final chance to save himself, but he was too arrogant to recognize the opportunity.
"I am a medical doctor," he announced. "If I say this man is going to die, then you can believe he is going to die."
Three guns appeared simultaneously and fired as one. Dr. Vincent fell to the floor with three bloody holes clustered at his heart.
As I looked at my gynecologist's corpse on the kitchen floor, I thought of how it could so easily be me. There was no doubt about it, I'd taken some awful chances with these maniacs so far this morning. It was clear that my longevity was a particularly touchy proposition. Probably being an attractive woman who was willing to fuck was all that had saved me so far.
Then it hit me. I had just stumbled onto it by accident. Maybe there was something more powerful than guns.
Sex! Apparently the only force by which the guns in men's hands could be superseded was the uncontrollable hardness of their cocks. Perhaps they would not unconditionally lay down their arms for a good fuck, but at least they would temporarily uncock the hammers.
The message was clear. If I wanted to save myself, I'd have to get even sexier. The errors I'd made so far were in omission, not commission. In order to survive, I'd have to behave hornier than ever.
I had just reached this conclusion when a couple of the convicts picked up Dr. Vincent's body at either end and carried it to the laundry room. Hurling it inside like a sack of dirty clothes, they apparently threw my dead gynecologist all the way to the wall, where he splatted with a thud.
I walked forward just enough to peer inside for one last look at my late doctor. What I expected to see was bad enough-but what I actually witnessed was horrible.
Vincent hadn't landed against the wall at all. The splatting thud had occurred when he collided with the delivery boy, who was equally dead. Half of his brains had already dribbled out of the hole between his eyes.
These convicts were monsters. They'd kill a man at the drop of a hat. Thank God, I was a woman!
I had given up on any help from the outside. From here on in, I could assume nothing. The only person who could save me was me.
It was imperative that I erase my mind of the terrible fate of the delivery boy and Dr.
Vincent. I couldn't be distracted by sentiment. If I was to survive I had to be just as hard and callous as my captors. Perhaps even temporarily behave as though I were one of them.
"Forget about those turkeys," I made my voice hard and my conscience nonexistent.
"They're out of the game, now. It's just you and me, boys." This was the last type of thing they expected to hear from me. I had them suddenly nervous and decided to pour it on.
"Same with Willis," I gestured toward their leader's crumpled form at the other end of the kitchen. "He doesn't look so big and bad in a heap like that, does he?"
Their expressions turned from surprise to anger. The trick now was to wave the red flag with absolute precision.
"Boys, boys," I said, "you're getting so tense. I think you fellows need a break. After all, breaking out of jail is demanding work-you deserve a break as much as any fat-ass clerk."
"What did you have in mind, bitch?" one of them asked suspiciously, his trigger-finger itching.
"What do you think?" I flippantly answered and then boldly turned my back on my abductors and flounced out the door.
They couldn't believe it. My cheekiness had thrown them for a loop.
"In here, boys," I called from the bedroom, where I was settling myself on the bed in the most provocative position possible.
They appeared en masse at the doorway. The way I had contorted myself, about all they could see of me was my hairily gaping cunt.
"Clerks have to settle for a coffee-break," I cooed. "You outlaws can have a sex-break.
Fuck me!"
They froze for a moment and then all hell broke loose. Moving as a gang toward my wantonly inviting body, they left a trail of drool in their wake.
They all seemed to hit the bed at once, swarming all over me. No inch of my bare anatomy was spared from some kind of pinch or probe.
"No, no-wait," I had the courage to say.
"Whaddaya talkin' about?" somebody incredulously wanted to know.
"I want you take me one at a time," I stated my proposition. "That way I can, uh, get to know each of you better."
Which was exactly the truth. By individualizing my captors, I would be able to deal with them with more finesse. And fucking them one at a time was the most efficient way to get acquainted.
"Just think," I tried to sell them on the idea. "No pushing and shoving like before.
Everybody gets to take his time and fuck just the part of me that he wants to. No sharing and no second choices."
I knew I had succeeded when they all withdrew from the bed and huddled at its edge, conducting a hasty election as to who would go first. They had bought it.
They were all so anti-social, though, that they couldn't agree on anything. If I didn't intervene, a fist-fight might break out. Anything could happen in a melee like that, especially to me.
"Let me decide," I interrupted their futile deliberation. "You'll all have your chance in the long-run, so why not have a little fun in the meantime?"
All right, they'd do it. My gamble had worked. I was becoming more and more influential.
I pretended to think about my choice, but it was fake. I knew all the time I was going to choose the kid. Not only was he the best looking, but also seemed to have the most brains to pick. He was my candidate for Willis' replacement.
"You," I finally ended the suspense, pointing to the kid. "Beauty before age."
The gang laughed at this inane witticism and pushed their youngest member my way. Like a Venus fly-trap I snagged him and pulled up into the maw of my succulence.
"What's your name?" I asked him, as I was fitting his hard cock into my cunt.
"Johnny," he said, while making his initial phallic thrust. "Johnny Otis."
"Have you ever killed anybody, Johnny?" I inquired without batting an eyelash, composure that was made doubly hard by the cock-head now entering my womb.
"Are you kiddin'?" he responded defensively. "Didn't you see what I did to that damn doctor?"
Come to think of it, he had been one of my late gynecologist's killers.
"Have you ever wasted anybody on your own? All by yourself with nobody to back you up?"
I don't know what I expected his answer to be, but surely nothing as shocking as what materialized.
"Sure-" he said.
My heart leaped in anticipation. "Who?"
"The warden. I trapped him in his office last night and blew six through his rotten carcass."
I looked across the room at the others for confirmation. They all nodded. "Johnny's always been trigger-happy," one of them said.
All of a sudden I didn't want to know any more. It was enough to realize I had a cold- blooded killer's hard-on up my cunt without knowing all the gruesome details of his infamy.
It was like being fucked by Billy the Kid.
There was something terribly unique about having sex with such a paradoxical partner. A kid, who when cleaned up would resemble a choir boy, had the heart of a murderer.
Despite my innate fear, it turned me on. Being fucked by a baby faced outlaw was an experience not many women have.
"How old are you, Johnny?" I nibbled seductively in his ear.
"Twenty-two."
"You look younger. When you were a boy did you ever have any wet dreams about fucking an older woman like me?"
This was the key to the right lock. "Yes," he admitted. "My best friend's mother used to really turn me on."
"Do I look like her?"
"Yes, ma'am," he gulped, completely the gawky adolescent.
"Why don't you pretend I'm her," I suggested, "and you're finally getting to fuck the woman of your dreams."
This appealed to him immensely. In fact, as he began slobbering over my tits, he even began calling me Mrs. Lee.
And I became her-the living embodiment of this troubled boy's link to his more innocent past.
Now I was going to corrupt that innocence. Take advantage of Otis' lapse into nostalgia and reduce him to putty in my hands.
"This is your first fuck, isn't it?" I skillfully turned back the clock. "You're cherry, aren't you, Johnny?"
"Yes, yes," he said in a voice that was a half-tone higher. "I never thought, ma'am that I'd-you'd."
"Just calm down and fuck me, Johnny," I soothed, as I ran my fingers through his sandy long hair. "You're doing just fine."
"Am I-am I really?"
"Of course, darling. Your cock is a marvel. Believe me, an older woman can tell when a young boy's got real talent."
This flattery really lit a fire in his loins. All of a sudden Otis' cock was ramming me like a jack-hammer. My pelvis ached.
Of course this didn't stop me from urging him to, "Fuck harder! Harder! You know I want it deep!"
He was stabbing me with his prick, seeming to slice away the tissues as he plunged to the core of my interior. The head of his cock was apparently beyond my womb, feeling as though it were engorging some unchartered region of my body.
I had been so busy talking with Otis that I hadn't had a chance to come yet. With the burden of conversation alleviated by the phallic battering-ram stuffing my pussy, I let go and allowed myself to orgasmically explode.
My senses were shooting off like pinwheels and firecrackers. It seemed as though my libido were staging a premature 4th of July celebration.
"Go, Johnny, go!" I screamed. "Go off in my cunt!"
His steady stroking ceased and his cock spastically lurched. It was on its own now. There was no way its owner could hold back the floodtide of cum anymore, even if he were so disposed.
Otis' balls slammed against the lower part of my cunt and then a split-second later his hard prick erupted. Molten jizz poured into my spasming fuck-hole.
"Oh, I love it, baby, I love it!" I cried. "Your cum is soooo hot!"
Soon there was too much cream for my cunt to hold. Like the contents of an overturned pitcher, it poured from my body, drenching my thighs. I was a sticky mess from the crotch down.
And then it was over. The spurting had stopped and the kid was pulling his prick from my pussy with a noisy squish.
"Thanks, ma'am," he said like a little angel. "I sure do appreciate you lettin' me fuck you."
"My pleasure, Johnny," I smiled sweetly. "Now why don't you go find me one of your friends."
Otis was gone, but quickly returned with a man who resembled the side of a mountain more than a human being. "This is Champ, ma'am. He's the prison rasslin' champion, so we call him that. Nobody knows what his real name is for sure."
Probably including him, I surmised, as I surveyed the big brute. He probably killed people just because they were in line ahead of him.
But I couldn't be choosy. Besides, being fucked by such a caveman might be an intriguing change of pace after the kid.
"Okay, Champ," I gamely said to him, "how do you want it?"
"I-I, uh-" he stammered. I couldn't tell if his inability to speak was caused by shyness or dumbness.
"What, Champ?"
But he was so flustered he couldn't answer.
"I think what he wants to say," the kid interjected, "is that he wants you to pop his cherry the way you did mine."
I barely averted breaking out in laughter. This monster with an adolescent fantasy?
Incredible!
"Sure, why not?" I shrugged and agreed. "Who'm I supposed to be?"
"My mom," Champ grunted. "I always wanted to get into that bitch's hot pants."
Well, at least he could talk.
Fuck, too-an act he got right into. There was a new cock surging up my cunt and it was a locomotive. Chugging to my depths.
"How'm I doin, Mom?" Champ eagerly wanted to know.
"Mommy loves your big prick, sonny," I improvised. "Why didn't you ask me sooner if I wanted to fuck? I've had my eyes on you ever since you got out of grade school."
"What if Daddy finds out?" the big man irritatingly found something to be nervous about. I could feel his cock abruptly slacken.
"You can kill him," I whispered moistly in his cauliflowered ear.
He grinned like the proverbial cat who has just eaten the canary and his prick sprang forward, so my gamble had been won. However, I wasn't about to go any further with this gambit, for fear I'd learn he'd already murdered his father in real life.
Anyway, it was hard to remain interested in his psyche when his immense cock was so busy in my cunt. The intense friction quickly blotted every consideration out of my mind except coming.
I experienced my first orgasm with Champ when the head of his prick apparently reached my spine. It felt like he was breaking my back.
"Oh, God, you're killing me!" I exclaimed. "I love it! Do it harder to me!"
"Sure, Mom," he grunted. "If there's one thing I am, it's strong."
That was no lie. His whammed away, engorging spaces I hadn't known existed. His cock was the camel and my pussy was the eye of the needle.
Wild with passion, I grabbed Champ's egg-like balls and squeezed. If they had really been eggs their yolks would have come oozing out between my fingers.
He screamed from the pain at his groin and then fell forward like a ship lurching into the dock. His cock fragmented inside me, spewing off liquid shrapnel. The inner walls of my pussy seemed instantly pocked by the gouging missiles of his cum.
Then, all too soon, the ejaculation dried up and Champ was pulling his spent cock from my overflowing twat, muttering, "Thanks, Mom."
I didn't come out of it as easily as I had with Otis. For some reason-fatigue or something-I was having trouble shaking my orgasm so I could start afresh on a new convict. At a time when I needed every one of my wits, they seemed to be deserting me.
So it was still fumbling around in the fog of unshakable orgasm that I acknowledged the arrival of my next lover.
"Get on your hands and knees and spread your ass like a bitch in heat!" he roughly ordered. I was alert enough to realize that my run of moonstruck pseudo-adolescent boys was over. I had a tiger on my hands.
When I was too dopey to respond quickly enough to suit him, my new lover clasped me with his large hands and flipped me over. Then he forcibly propped me up on all fours and scooted around in back of me.
He gripped the cheeks of my ass like they were sponges and tore my butt apart. Suddenly my asshole and cunt were stinging with the pain of taut distention.
I could feel something tickling in the ravine of my crack. It was like the tip of some larger object.
Then there were bursts of hot air against my anus and pussy and a sniffing sound.
I looked around. He was smelling my two holes like a male dog seducing a bitch.
While I was still watching, he took his stiff cock and replaced his nose with it. The notched head began rubbing back and forth between my asshole and twat. The feeling began to be electric.
But now I was faced with a new problem. Not only had I never completely recovered from my last orgasm, there was a new one developing. Within moments I would be helpless with sensual delirium once again.
There was no use in trying to fight. I'd just have to pass on getting to know this convict better. Frankly, the only part of him on which I could concentrate was his twitching hard- on.
"Go ahead-" I screamed, "go ahead and fuck me!"
But he didn't. He kept shifting the crown of his cock from cunt to anus and back again, but refused to penetrate either cock-hungry orifice.
"Don't tease me!" I wailed. "God, I want it in either hole!"
"Tell me you need it," he hissed like a talking snake. "That you'll shrivel up and die if I don't fuck you."
"It true," I desperately babbled. "I need it! Fuck me or I'll die!"
"Now beg for it in the ass, bitch," he put down the final condition for entry.
"Oh, Jesus, fuck me in the ass!" I readily complied with a heartfelt shriek. "Fuck me in the ass with your big, hard prick!"
He was satisfied with my performance. And so was I with his when he gored the horn of his cock into my tightest opening. What a monster!
The knotty head rumbled up my rectum, a freight-train to my colon. At the same time, the hand of its owner dropped to my gaping pussy and I was being fingerfucked.
It had been fun to play the starring role in the adolescent fantasies of this man's two predecessors, but this guy didn't need any make-believe to make him a sensational lover.
There are no gimmicks needed when a man knows how to fuck as well as he did.
His cock was so big that it could have killed me, being stuffed to the hilt in my rectum as it was. However, every time it felt as though my time had come the cockhead stimulated some intensely erogenous rectal point and I orgasmically soared above the agony.
His fingers in my cunt were a lifesaver, too. There were as delicate and lacy in their movements as his prick was macho. It occurred to me that I might be dealing with a rather complex personality here. It scared me for an instant, until I remembered that I was being fucked by an escaped convict. I'd just have to take my chances with this guy's kinks along with everybody else's.
Anyway, who cared how mean he was as long as he could fuck ass like this. I had taken a lot in the ass so far today, but this was the first time my anus had felt so much like a pussy. My third convict lover really had the touch to bring out the best in a woman.
The pressurized pleasure was so intense that I couldn't hold out anymore for the icing on the cake. I screamed for him to come in me. Really blast my ass with his hot jism.
He was a quirky dude, though. Apparently his thing was to have a woman begging before he'd give her what she wanted. Sort of like my husband, Bill, when he was doling out the.
money for the household expenses.
"God, I need your cum!" I played the part and told the truth at the same time. "Need it in my ass! Please, please, give it to me!"
He cackled in triumph. What a bastard.
But what a supply of jizz! It came pouring from his hilted cock as though he'd stuffed a firehose up my ass.
I gasped, completely out of control. I felt like a tackling dummy with a mysterious ability to come. The more punishment I took, the harder I climaxed.
The spurting seemed as though it would never stop. Soon my colon was too full and the excess was escaping from my asshole, but still the prick within me did not cease creaming.
I couldn't stand it anymore. I loved it but I couldn't stand it. Too much of a good thing.
I tried to fight the encroaching darkness, but it was futile. Oblivion overtook me.
I don't know how long I was out. All I know is that the next thing I remember I woke up choking. When I opened my eyes I was certain an ape was sitting on my face.
I tried to wriggle for some air, but it was futile. Every time I moved my head, the hairy buttocks that pinioned it squashed harder and the huge cock in my mouth drove deeper down my throat.
The funky smell of male sweat seared my nasal passages and permeated my brain. The sensation was both intoxicating and repulsive at the same time.
Then the buttocks abruptly opened enough to permit a blast of oxygen to find its way up my snuffing nose. Now I was peering into the hairiest crack I'd ever seen.
Whatever or whoever was sitting on my face had his back to me. He was leaning forward toward my pussy, which was why his ass had opened. While I felt his tongue began to tickle my clit and the lips of my cunt, I looked up and gazed at his hard-working balls, churning because he was fucking me so vigorously in the mouth.
I was coming around, now, starting to tread gingerly in renewed consciousness. As one reflexively does after coming to, I began to collect clues about who, what, where and when.
This was no gorilla sitting on my face-this was the same who'd fucked my mouth during the orgy in the kitchen. Now he was doing it again, but with a difference-simultaneously eating my cunt.
Having figured out what was happening to me, my tension automatically snapped. In fact, that rule of my mother's came back to me with crystal clarity. As the human gorilla reamed my throat and licked my pussy, Mom's voice seemed to come at me as life-like as if she were in the room with us.
"Just relax and enjoy it, Donna. That's all you can do-" Ceasing to think about my safety, I threw all my resources into getting it on with the sweaty man on top of me. His hairiness, his innate ugliness, starting to turn me on along with his scratchy tongue and bludgeoning hard-on. Following my mother's advice, I had reached the point where any man with sex on his mind was the man for me.
A natural progression followed and I began thirsting for his cum. My brain tricked my throat into feeling parched, despite the many pints of jizz I had already swallowed this morning. I was craving the liquid from my lover's nuts the way someone stranded in the middle of the desert craves water.
Come in me! I mentally implored. Come, you hairy son-of-bitch! Fill my belly with your hot cum and I'll fill your mouth with a quart of pussy juice that's even hotter!
Our vibes were apparently on perfect pitch with one another. As though he had just received a telegram of my mentally relayed message, the ape slammed his cock into the maw of my stomach and unleashed a tidal wave of semen.
Suddenly I was gagging on it-almost literally drowning from jizz and down below, I was making good on my promise by releasing almost as much cream from my box as I was taking down the throat from his spurting cock.
Neither of us could hold all the liquid we were taking. Becoming oversaturated, we both spit up simultaneously, drenching ourselves and the bedding with a rich alloy of cum and pussy juice.
By the time the human gorilla had abandoned my body to give way to the sixth and final convict, I was as turned-on as I had been all morning. Forgetting all about the ulterior motives that had led me to initiate this gang-bang, now all I was thinking of was sex. Raw, lowdown sex.
My last fucker was mercifully at the side of the bed now, stroking his big cock in preparation for fucking me. I looked briefly up from his twitching prick into his face, but there was nothing recognizable in his expression or features. He was one of the convicts who had just sort of grungily melted into the crowd. There seemed nothing remarkable about him.
I was wrong. Jesus, was I wrong.
I should have suspected something funny was going on when, after all the exotic sex that had gone before-thus setting the stage for something spectacular-the last man decided on a simple fuck in the missionary position. It just didn't seem right and I was cooled off immediately. , I didn't even feel anything especially when his cock penetrated my cunt. Where was the passion? It was as though we were robots, we were going through the motions with such little inspiration.
"Can't you do any better than this?" I hissed impatiently in the ear of the man on top of me.
"Shhhhh," he whispered back. "I want to talk to you."
"Oh, one of those," I sighed. The kind of guy who wants to talk to a prostitute about how she got into the business instead of fucking her.
"No, listen," he said under his breath, so only I could hear. "It's not one you think."
"What are you talking about?"
"I ma cop-" It hit me like the falling cornice from a building. I started to feel faint again.
"Don't pass out on me," he whispered urgently, "all we've got is each other to save ourselves and bring these guys to justice."
"Why are you with them?" I defeated my reeling senses enough to ask.
"I infiltrated them on an undercover assignment before they crashed out of the pen," he rapidly explained. "When they went over the wall I had to go with them or blow my cover.
And in my business, that means certain death."
"Where are the rest of the cops?"
"They'll be here," he tried to reassure me. "The only trick will be for me and you to hold on until then."
"How am I doing so far?" I impulsively asked.
"Just fine, Mrs. Haley, just fine."
"Call me Donna."
The fucking went just fine after that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The cop's name-or at least the name he was using-was Ben King. I gleaned that from a conversation I started after the gang-fucking was over.
He had slipped back into the crowd, the best way to stay under cover I guess. He was obviously a pro at his work.
I knew that I should pay King no special attention for the safety of both of us, but I couldn't help it. From a somewhat faceless thug, he had been transformed through his revelation into a kinetically attractive man.
"I tried to fight it, but I couldn't. I wanted to fuck him again.
While I was shooting the bull with the convicts, I was plotting a course of seduction with reference to Ben King. I wanted his big cock all to myself, without a gang of drooling stooges ogling our lovemaking.
I wished these cons were really the kids they sometimes resembled in their retarded expression. I'd sent them out on some kind of an errand so Ben and I could be alone to make love.
But, of course, they were not kids at all. They were a pack of murderous psychos who would kill at the wink of an eye.
And, especially me, if I made one false move.
I was busily deliberating whether putting the make on Ben King was worth the risk, when a noisy banging postponed the decision-making process. Somebody was knocking at the door.
"Who's that?" one of the cons asked sharply.
"I-I don't know," I truthfully stammered. "I'm n-not expecting anyone. I'll h-have to answer the door to f-find out."
"Okay, go ahead and answer it," a voice I recognized as Ben's gave me permission to go to the door. "But be careful!"
This concern-even masked by brusqueness as it was-gave me the lift I needed. It felt good to know that I was not alone among this pack of killers, as I threw on my robe before greeting the visitor.
I opened the door not knowing who or what to expect on the outside. However, I can factually say that the last thing I expected was an angry red-faced cop with wet pants and dog on a rope.
"This your mutt, lady?" the cop thundered.
I couldn't believe it. The law finally shows up and wants to talk to me about a dog.
"What is it, Donna?" Ben imitated my husband from the hallway.
"A police officer, darling, apparently about a stray dog," I answered. "What should I do, dear?"
"Talk to him," I was instructed. "The Haley family is always willing to cooperate with local law enforcement."
Suddenly it hit me. This cop on the stoop might not be as dumb as he looked. Ben may have been trying to tell me that this nonsense about the dog was all a stall so the police could case out the house.
I could not take the chance that this instinct was wrong. The only thing to do was go along.
"Okay, lady, now that you finished the Indian Love Call with your hubby, you wanna tell me if this is your damn dog," the cop at the door fumed. "I ain't got all day and this monster has already pissed all over my leg."
"Yes, I can see," I tittered. "But I'm afraid the animal is not mine."
"Then who does he belong to?" the cop snapped. If this was a cover, this guy was a fabulous actor.
"The people next door at 402," I said. "Mickey and Sylvia-"
"I already been there," he cut me off. "They ain't home."
"Well, this is their German Shepherd, Bo. Here, look, I'll show you."
I reached out and scratched the animal behind the ears and called him by name. Although Bo and I hadn't been the fastest of friends in the past, since he was always shitting on my lawn, he responded with a loud bark and happily wagging tail. With a rope tied around his shaggy neck, Bo was happy to see a familiar face.
"See," I said. "What'd he do, anyway?"
"There's been complaints from half the people in this neighborhood about dog turds in their yards and tipped over garbage cans. They all said it was a German Shepherd and when I come out here to check things out I found this one runnin' around. You figure it out, lady."
"So what are you going to do with him?"
"Take'm to the pound and have'm gassed if I can't find his owners. This thing's a goddamn public nuisance."
I didn't know how to interpret what was going on. A moment ago I'd had a high level of confidence that this guy at the door was part of a rescue effort. But what if I was wrong?
Not able to bear the responsibility for possibly sending Bo to his death, I looked to my stand-in husband for help.
"They want to take Mickey and Sylvia's dog to the pound," I called. "Couldn't we do something, dear?"
"Yeah," was Ben's reply, "go ahead and take him in. Tell the officer that you'll have the owners contact the local precinct when they get home."
"You heard my husband," I said to the cop at the door. "Is it all right?"
He thought about it a moment. "Okay," he finally agreed, handing me the rope attached to the dog's neck. "I oughta haul'm in, but I'm glad to get rid of the fuckin' monster. Just have those people call up the precinct, though or you'll be in as much trouble as they are for bein' an accessory."
"Certainly, officer," I replied and tugged at Bo's rope. As the cop tipped his hat and turned to leave, the dog sprang into the house and I closed the door behind us.
The convicts came out of hiding and scared Bo. He started barking and running around, snapping at their shins. I was afraid one of them would haul out his cannon and blast the poor animal's head off.
"Come here, Bo," I tried to rescue him. "Come here to Donna."
He ran to me and nervously jumped up with his paws on my shoulders. His hot gamey breath flared my nostrils, while his long wet tongue lapped against my cheeks.
"It's okay, Bo," I tried to soothe him. "You're among friends. Nobody's going to hurt you."
At this point the convicts emitted a large laugh. I couldn't help but wonder if they had already drawn straws to see who got to blow Bo's brains out for sport.
However, I was completely wrong. The source of their mirth turned out to be nothing like that.
"Lookit his dick," one of the convicts specified the cause for glee. "Damn dog's got a boner I'd be proud of."
While they all broke up, I reflexively looked down the front of Bo's erect body. There, at the crux of his haunches, was a pulsing hard-on that looked like it could rip a bitch apart.
"Looks like you got'm turned-on, baby," someone guffawed. "You oughta answer the door in somethin' besides that robe."
Now I looked down at myself. The hastily tied sash had come loose and the front of my robe was hanging open. My tits and pussy were there in plain sight for Bo to see, if that was what truly was making him horny.
"Take it all off," it was suggested. "Let's see what that damn dog'll do with a woman completely raw in front of him."
I felt I had no choice but to comply. This dog seemed like the key to things to me. I was becoming increasingly certain that if I could use his presence to stall, help would be on the way. I should be glad that the convicts were so amused by his reaction to me that they were willing to blow precious time they could have been utilizing to fortify their escape plans.
Dropping the robe, I stood totally stripped before Bo.
His raspy tongue went wild on my face, scratching me like wet sandpaper. At the rear, his bushy tail furiously wagged and between his legs, the column of his cock jerked like a missile trying to separate itself from its launching pad.
"I wonder if that mutt'd know what to do with the business-end of a chick," the apeman speculated.
"Only one way to find out," one of his confederates chuckled.
"Over on all fours, Mrs. Haley," a third convict hollered their conclusion to me. "We wanna see if the dog'll fuck you."
I looked toward their leering faces, searching for Ben King's eyes to flash me a message.
However, he was nowhere to be seen. In the confusion he had apparently slipped out of the room.
Perhaps he was flashing a signal right now. I couldn't take the chance that he wasn't. I had to allow him all the time possible.
Which meant, of course, that I had to leave myself open for the neighbor's German Shepherd to fuck me. Quite a price to pay but, after all, I told myself, it was nothing short of my life on the line. Under the circumstances.
Without hesitation, I pulled away from Bo's paws and dropped to the floor. On my hands and knees I presented with my ass in his face, Then I opened it and showed him the rearview of my cunt.
The convicts whooped and shouted. They loved it. But what about the damn dog? He was the one who counted.
I could hear him tentatively sniffing around. He was both wary and curious.
"Do it to her, you damn mutt!" somebody impatiently blurted.
"Shit, this dame is starting to turn him off!"
A couple of them booed and I started to get nervous. Things had suddenly hit a snag and something told me that if I didn't cajole this dog into fucking me I would be a dead duck.
What could I do to get this dog on top of me and alleviate the ill-tempered friction that had risen to the surface? These convicts were impulsive men. Men who frequently dealt with the most trivial frustrations in the most violent of manners.
Relax-and-enjoy-it wouldn't work here. I was going to have to work to make things turn out to my advantage.
I had two options insofar as seducing the dog was concerned.
One, I could just physically assault him; giving his dick so much rubbing and licking that he wouldn't care which species he fucked, just so long as the female representative's hole was wet and tight.
Two, I could use my brain to summon him to me. Come up with the key that would unlock his libido.
I decided on the latter approach because a misfire on the first would be dreadfully embarrassing and anyway something important had occurred to me. A significant clue in Bo's behavior.
It was true that he was reticent about humping me at the moment. But what about his initial reaction when he'd peered through my robe? And his excitement when I'd stripped?
It was clear from his past behavior that Bo definitely knew his way around a naked woman. He'd not only seen one, he'd been turned-on by one, apparently several times.
Sylvia! I thought of the name of my next-door neighbor and Bo's mistress. She must have a little game of teasing Bo when she's nude. I wonder how far it goes?
"Come here, Bo." I said in a voice that was pinched a half an octave higher to approximate Sylvia's. "Mama won't hurt you."
It worked. He came around in front and laid his head down against the floor so I could whisper in his ear. Apparently, Sylvia and Bo had quite a communication going for themselves. Well, that just goes to show that you can live next door to a person for years and not know what they're really like.
"Fuck me!" I rasped in Sylvia's voice without delay. "Do it to me the way you do when nobody's home, Bo!"
He let loose a whooping bark and jumped up, bounding over my body and landing at my flanks. Turning around, he flopped his bristly torso onto my back and dug his claws into my shoulder blades.
The most vigorous reaction, though, came from his prick. I don't know how much starch it lost while its owner was stalled, but in the last few seconds it had become harder than ever. The knotty head was beating a tattoo against my topsy-turvy vulva.
"Mama wants you to stick it in, Bo," I patiently instructed him. "Never mind all these men here, they won't bother us. Just do it like we were at home and all alone."
He whimpered what had to be interpreted as a dog's sigh of love. Old Sylvia really had this pooch wrapped around her little finger. No wonder she was so accepting of that workaholic she was married to, when she had action like this on the side. I was sure she was shoving Mickey out the door to go see his clients.
"Fuck me, Bo, fuck me!" I etched the bottom line with the closest approximation of my next-door neighbor's voice that I could manage.
The dog's massive prick slammed on cue into my cunt. Inch after inch of Iron meat surged inside and he was fucking me. Incredibly, I was letting myself be made love to by a drooling animal. And already I was coming.
"Deeper, Bo, deeper!" I cried, probably in my own voice this time. "The deeper you go, the harder I'll come!"
He seemed to understand me implicitly, immediately ramming his prick into me to the hilt and activating an unchartered cum far within me with the gouging head.
The walls of my senses came tumbling down, burying me in an orgasmic avalanche. I was gasping and writhing, wiggling and sweating. And screaming at the top of my lungs. Wails with the high-pitched volume of sirens. If there were any cops in the neighborhood, they would have to hear it.
And, of course, as usual, since it was happening during sex the boys did nothing. To their way of thinking, a woman who was in the throes of hot sex was a woman who could be trusted. She was getting what every woman wants, so why should she complain?
So I kept screaming. Yelling, "Harder! Harder, Bo! Fuck me harder," and things like that. I was a bitch in heat. Raising the roof with unrestrained cries of animal lust.
If the cops heard me, fine. If they didn't I'd go to my likely premature grave knowing that I'd had the most unique experience in my life before my chips were cashed in.
He had a knot in his cock. Some type of device nature had implanted there so that once there was phallic penetration into a female's cunt, withdrawal was virtually impossible.
The object of this phenomenon was probably to insure vaginal absorption of every drop of eventual cum. In other words, the knot in Bo's cock was probably meant to aid in contact.
However, when he was fucking a human pussy, the knot took on new and intriguing purposes. For one thing, it was a maddening chafer, setting up gales of friction at its rubbing point. For another, it pulsed like I had a beating heart lodged in my twat.
... But best of all, its throbbing steadfastness forced the phallic elongation of which it was part to remain locked in my pussy. Since I was eagerly awaiting the knot-dammed flood of cum, I guessed I wasn't too different from an ordinary bitch, after all. I was fanatically determined not to let a drop of Bo's jizz dribble from my snatch.
I began swinging my ass in a wide loop in order to stimulate ejaculation. I'd either drain Bo's fuzzy balls or twist his tool off.
He began moaning and groaning from my action, sounding almost human. I could just see Sylvia responding to this, whirling her ass faster and faster until her buns were a pink blur, trying to make her dog come in her cunt. I'd definitely have to get to know her better if I somehow came out of this thing alive.
But, for the meantime, I'd have to content myself by standing in for Sylvia. Responding as I knew she would.
I had to be her. Tighten her pussy muscles around the surging dick between my thighs.
Make the cum flow.
Bo grunted. He sounded more like an enraged bull now than an amorous German Shepherd.
His claws dug into my back, drawing blood, while his tongue rasped like a file against the nape of my neck. His breath was exhaling in increasingly explosive bursts. I could hear his heart pounding like the drums in a rock'n'roll song.
His balls drew into a block of granite and crashed against the outer petals of my snatch, instantly bruising them. Inside, his cock lurched in an expansive tremor and reached some virgin depth at the core of my being "Come!" I screamed. "Come in my cunt!"
Bo's cock didn't just erupt-it splintered. All of a sudden liquid slivers were puncturing the walls of my pussy. It was like sitting on a porcupine.
He had so much more cum than a human. Dogs normally have to wait until their bitches are in heat before they can drain their nuts. It only stands to reason that nature would endow them with a generous supply of jizz to make sure there are no slip-ups when they finally got around to fucking. Impossibly horny women like Sylvia-and I was wondering about me-were just the lucky windfall beneficiaries of this natural mutation.
The surging cum bloated my womb and even before Bo had stopped delivering his load it was backing up. Within seconds I would have to make good on my promise to myself not to let a precious drop escape.
The internal pressure built and built. Even as Bo's hard-on kept ejaculating, it was being forced out of my cunt by its own cum.
Finally, with just the head of his prick remaining inside me, Bo stopped coming. If he pulled completely out, it would theoretically be like pulling the cork on the pressurized contents of my bloated cunt.
With a loud pop the cock-head withdrew. However, in a feat of supreme muscle control, I slammed my pussy lips shut, sealing the canine jism within me.
I waited and waited for the inner force to subside. Slowly the dog's sperm seeped into my deepest nooks and crannies. And vaginal tissue absorbed it like a sponge. Gritting my teeth and inwardly suctioning, I was making good on the boast I'd made to myself that I could accommodate every drop of dog-cum.
At last the pressure diminished to the extent that the sharp ache in my loins disappeared.
Feeling confident that I'd reached my objective, I relaxed for the first time since Bo had come. Falling on my back, I lolled in the afterglow of a perfect fuck, even affording myself the luxury of spreading my legs so my cunt could re-open.
Not a drop of jizz trickled out. I had taken it all!
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was only after I descended from my post-climactic euphoria that I realized things were not so rosy as I had orgasmically imagined. One thing in particular was quite disconcerting.
Where was Ben King?
He still hadn't returned to the room-even to watch Bo fuck me. Whatever was occupying his attention had to really be something.
What if the others noticed his absence, also. It was only a matter of time until somebody did. If Ben didn't return before then, they might go looking for him and catch him in the act of communicating to the outside. He could even have a miniature radio transmitter stashed somewhere.
This kind of discovery, of course, would lead to sudden and violent death to the one man who suddenly seemed to mean more to me than any other.
With Ben on my mind, all of the other convicts seemed to slip back into their molds as monsters. I musn't let myself to forget they were capable of anything.
All of a sudden I knew I had to find Ben before they did. What instant tactic could I come up with?
"Oooooh," I giggled, as I got up from the floor, "I have to pee. My bladder is about to burst.
Do I have permission to leave the room?"
They nodded, respectful of a woman's right to privacy during her toilet. Begrudgingly, I had to admit that in some ways these murderous brutes were downright chivalrous.
I headed right for the bathroom, where I opened and slammed the door so they'd think I'd gone inside. Then, on tip-toes I began my stealthy search of the house for Ben.
He was nowhere to be found. There was no trace of him. What's worse I sensed that my captors were getting antsy about why I was taking so long in the bathroom. I had to get back in there before somebody knocked on the door and asked if I'd fallen in.
As it turned out, I won a race with Johnny Otis, the kid who banged on the door just seconds after I'd sealed myself in the bathroom. "Hey, Mrs. Haley, what're you doing in there?" he wanted to know.
"Giving myself a douche," I improvised. "The cum was starting to harden in my cunt and it was getting itchy."
"How long'll you be?" he seemed to buy it.
"Just a few more minutes."
"Okay, but hurry it up, some of the boys are starting to get suspicious."
I sighed, as I heard the whisk of him turning around to leave and his footsteps walking away. But then the footsteps stopped and my heart was in my throat.
Now Otis had come back to the door. "Hey, what's that funny noise in there? Sounds like crying."
I suddenly realized that I heard it, too. Until now my fear and tension had blotted it out.
"Lemme see," I hastily pleaded for the few seconds I needed to come up with an acceptable response.
I'd dashed into the bathroom so feverishly that I hadn't even looked at any part of it except for the door I was hiding behind. Now, motivated by the whimpering noise, I turned around to survey the scene. What I saw!
Ben was sitting hunched over on the toilet with his head in his hands. The reason I hadn't been able to find him anywhere was because he'd been right here in the bathroom the whole time-the last place I'd think to look. And he was crying.
I wanted to go instantly to him. Comfort him.
But I couldn't. I had to quell this passionate desire. Before I could go to my man I had to get rid of the convict outside the door.
My eyes darted around the room for a clue to my salvation. Suddenly it was mercifully there in the gleaming form of the faucet.
"It's the hot water," I said. "Sometimes it makes that noise. Rusty pipes or something."
"Can't you make it stop."
"I'm sorry I'm annoying you," I replied with just enough poutiness to keep him on his heels.
"But if I'm going to douche, I'm going to need that hot water."
He mumbled and this time left for good. Now, at least, I could turn my attention toward poor, blubbering Ben.
"Oh, darling," I found myself uncontrollably calling him, "what's the matter? I thought you were signaling the police."
He shook his head and looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. "Bitch!"
It was as though the ceiling had suddenly fallen on me. I couldn't have been more stunned.
"I thought you felt about me the way I feel about you," he bitterly continued.
"But I do-I do!" I desperately tried to reassure him.
"Then how do you explain what you just finished doing? Don't think I don't know just because I wasn't there."
"Oh-that," I self-consciously shrugged. "It was just to keep the boys occupied while I thought you were getting in touch with the outside. It didn't mean anything, I thought I was helping."
"Didn't mean anything?" he fumed. "A woman lets herself be fucked by the neighbor's German Shepherd and then says it doesn't mean anything. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, my mother warned me about her miserable sex."
Ben's was a most unlikely position in which to be for an undercover policeman. Instead of steely contemplating bringing these criminals to justice, he was sitting on the toilet carrying on like a jilted suitor. He was clearly neglecting duty, yet I was completely in sympathy with him.
I think it was his remark about his mother's words of wisdom about women that drew me emotionally closest to him. After all, I had a mother who had given me identical advice about men. Ben and I were truly soul-mates.
"Well, what do you have to say now for yourself, bitch?" Ben interrupted the lift from my discovery.
"That dog meant nothing to me, Ben," I pleaded for his understanding. "Please believe me."
He wasn't buying. Instead, he grabbed my wrist, twisting it until I fell to my knees. Then he held me there.
"Would you let me fuck you that way?" he snarled. "Over on all fours like you were a goddamn bitch in heat?"
"Of course, Ben," I grimaced through clenched teeth because of the pain shooting up my arm. "You know that I'd let you fuck me anyway you wanted."
"Like a dog?" he snorted contemptuously.
"If it turns you on," I replied reasonably enough.
"Fucking like that makes an animal out of a woman. Are you an animal, Donna?"
"When I'm with you, Ben," I broke down and sobbed. "I'll do anything you want, no matter how degrading."
"We'll see," he said and then cackled. "We'll see, Mrs. All-American Housewife."
"Wha-what do you want m-me to d-do?" I inquired.
"Nothing," Ben smiled evilly.
"In that case, would you let go of my arm?" I ignored the treachery of his expression and optimistically requested.
"You don't have to do anything because I'm going to force you every step of the way," he etched the bottom line. "You need discipline, Mrs. Haley."
Before I could respond, he grabbed my other wrist and twisted both of my arms inward as though he were wringing wash. The intense pain streaked down both sides of my body, finally coalescing in the pit of my gut until I had to keel over like a closing jack-knife.
When Ben abruptly let go of my wrists, my forearms snapped like rubber bands. My upper body came crashing to the floor, elbows first. The violent impact left me numb.
Not so numb, though, that I couldn't feel the sting of Ben's slaps, as he hit my face with one cruel swat after another. "Mother said this is the only way to treat you bitches," he explained himself. "Knock the shit out of you so you'll get some humility. The only good woman is a humiliated woman-and she knows it."
I pondered this, as the slaps finally abated. What were the actual facts, anyway?
It started to come to me all at once, as though a faucet of wisdom had been turned on in my mind. Of course, why hadn't I seen it before?
What, after all, were the only two occupations in which women had distinguished themselves in history? Housewifery and hooking were all there were.
And, if we didn't like prostituting ourselves to either a husband or a trick, then why had we been doing it for centuries? The lesson was clear. Ben was right.
In the meantime, Ben had circled behind me and was overlooking my pooched-up ass. I wanted to wiggle it at him and spread my thighs, but I resisted this impulse and fiercely clung to my appropriately passive role. Man was dominant and I had to let him make all the moves.
Ben's big hands plunged into my crack and violently pried my buns apart. Now my pussy was gaping and my anus throbbing under his critical gaze.
"I'm going to do worse than just fuck you like you were a dog," he snarled. "I'm going to fuck you in the ass, too, without a drop of lubrication."
I winced from his threat. I'd taken plenty of slick jism up my butt since the day had begun, but that had all congealed by now. Instead of lubricating, the crusty residue in combination with a pumping cock would feel like coarse sandpaper against my delicate rectal lining. If Ben went through with it, I was in for an excruciating ordeal, ordeal.
He put some fingers into my anus, apparently testing for tightness. "Clamp down," he instructed when they went past the second knuckle. "Really constrict those muscles so it'll hurt even more when I put my cock inside you."
To make sure I complied, Ben delivered some of the force which he'd promised would precede every action on my part. Grabbing my clit, he twisted it around like he was trying to tear it from my pussy. The resultant shock-waves of pain tightened every muscle in my body, including the ones in my ass.
"Very encouraging," he voiced his approval. "You're really going to feel this."
All of a sudden his fingers were out of my ass and his prick was knocking at the door. Or, to be more precise about the metaphor, knocking it down.
It was a phallic battering-ram that crashed through whatever resistance my asshole offered and surged inside. With the engine-like head leading the way, inch after inch of hard thickness chugged up the narrow tunnel of my asshole. In the process, the lumps of congealed cum already in my pussy gouged into my tender vaginal lining like gravel.
I wanted to scream, but I knew I couldn't risk it. Everyone would hear and Ben and I would have a hell of a lot of explaining to do to a lot of curious convicts. Even if they didn't tab him as a cop, they'd still be plenty resentful that he had paired off with me in secret. The mandatory code for escaping from prison was all-for-one-and-one-for-all.
So I suffered in silence. Suffered as Ben drove his hard-on to the depths of my bowels without a drop of lubrication. Shit was gurgling as though my colon were an interior volcano.
When his cock was hilted he began pistoning it. The effect was like being cornholed with a drill.. Every jerky thrust was felt from my toes to my scalp and in every cell in between.
God, how I wanted to scream. It would be so natural to let out a blood-curdling yell.
But I couldn't do it. Couldn't let Ben down. Even when he twisted my right arm in a hammerlock while he continued to fuck my ass with every inch of his prick.
"Thought I'd double your pleasure," he hissed. "Tell me how good it hurts, Donna."
"Oooooh," I moaned, "it hurts sooo goood. I need the pain. Need the discipline."
"Does the pain make you come?" he inquired.
"It would-if you said it was all right," I breathlessly acknowledged that he was my master.
He bent my arm behind my back until I thought I could hear the bone snap. "Okay, bitch," he said at the peak of my agony, "it's all right for you to come."
The floodgates of my senses flew open. All of a sudden I was inundated with orgasm, all of my stored-up passion cascading through my body in a crested tide.
The pain was an explosive catalyst. When Ben tightened the pressure on my contorted arm, the affect was as erogenous as the lurch of his cock in my ass. Pain and butt-fucking go together for a woman like that other old standby, love and marriage, probably with fewer exceptions.
"How do you feel, bitch?" Ben asked in a cutting tone that indicated my answer had better be self-depreciating.
"Low," I had no trouble answering. "Like a woman brought to her knees by a man willing to treat her the way she deserves."
"You're scum, aren't you, Donna?" he kept up with the insults.
"The lumpy cum that oozes out of a used rubber, if you say so, darling," I played my role to the hilt; belief the most powerful force in my performance.
"Now I'm going to come in you, bitch," Ben announced. "It'll be like getting hot lead poured up your ass. You won't be able to stand it."
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
He jerked my hammerlocked arms and twisted my ear with his free hand. "Don't get cute, tramp."
"Just go ahead and come in my ass and I'll be your slave forever," I gasped with anticipation. "I don't think I can wait much longer."
"You won't have to," he chuckled, just before he turned into a human dynamo.
All of a sudden he was a whipsawing bull of jerks and moves. The result was a radically twisting surge of his cock that felt like nothing I'd ever before experienced. I was being cornholed by a savage master of the ancient Greek art.
Right away he was breathing hard. Then, when his balls slammed together against my cunt, the breaths began coming in oooofs. He sounded like the steam drill that drove John Henry to his grave.
I ached to scream, come, come, you bastard! But I couldn't-not with them outside.
I'd had this problem before and temporarily licked it. However, this latest flare-up of the urge to cry out was much harder to quench than previous manifestations. The incipient sound seemed to be building up inside me, exerting stronger and stronger pressure.
How long could I hold in the verbal expression of my runaway emotions without erupting with a high-pitched wail? If I could just barely control the urge to scream now, what would happen once my ass was drenched with the cum I was so eagerly anticipating?
Right on cue, I was tested. Ben's cock spastically jerked in my rectum and then blew its head apart. All of a sudden my bowels were being over-run with scalding jizz.
While he was ejaculating, Ben continued to subject me to pain. Along with twisting my arm, he had re-discovered my clit and was twisting it, too.
I was quaking with orgasm. My lover was in my ass so deep, so hard-and, now, so wet.
The pain he applied was like an aphrodisiac.
I was going to scream, I knew it.
He tried to put his hand over my mouth, but I bit him. Abruptly he was fighting the impulse to cry out, too.
"Yeeeooooowwwww!" an anguished wail rattled the fixtures on the wall.
I looked at Ben. He looked at me with equal astonishment.
Neither of us had done it!
CHAPTER NINE
"What the hell's going out there?" Ben muttered, as he held his ear to the door. "Sounds like a brawl."
"Maybe we're being rescued," I said hopefully.
"Not yet," the professional in Ben abruptly closed the door on that possibility.
"Maybe they're fighting amongst themselves," I adjusted my speculation.
Ben nodded his head. "If they are, it may be a chance for us to make a break," he pointed out. The sexy side of him had vanished and he was once again a solid professional doing his job.
"How'll we tell?" I asked.
"One of us will have to go out there and look."
"One? Why can't we go together, Ben?"
"It would look fishy. You're supposed to be in the john alone giving yourself a douche. I can't waltz out of here with you."
Of course he was right. "So you think I should go out there alone?"
"Yes," he said expressionlessly. It was hard sometimes to know where you stood with this guy.
At that moment another hair-raising yowl interrupted us. It sounded like some poor soul was being disemboweled.
"Hurry up," Ben said, opening the door and giving me a shove. "Something terrible is happening out there and it may be good news for us."
He pushed me forward after dropping his hand to my ass and giving my buns a pat. It was this subtle but meaningful intimacy that told me Ben King really cared about Donna Haley.
If we ever got out of this mess alive, who knew what might develop? I could see a whole new life for me.
So, it was not entirely with fear and dread that I swung down the hall toward the living room. When I thought of Ben, there seemed to be a silver lining to this predicament.
Meeting him was worth all the terror and violence the convicts had brought to my home.
It sounded gory in there, but I was almost looking forward to it, certain that someone else's agony could work to my benefit. I hoped and expected that those convicts would be ripping each other to pieces.
Then I was stopped in my tracks by a third yowl. This time I recognized its pitch and was abruptly aware of the identity of the tortured party. I fell to my knees and vomited.
"Mommy, Mommy, where are you?" my sixteen year old daughter, Robin, was pleading for me to save her. "These men are tearing me apart!"
In a daze, I began to crawl the rest of the way to the living room. When I got there I just stayed that way, because there was no chance the shock I absorbed from what I saw would allow me to stand.
Robin was being stretched by her arms and legs, spreadeagled in mid-air by a convict at each end. The other two cons were fucking her with their huge dicks-one in the pussy and one in the ass.
"Stop! Stop!" she shrieked. "You're ripping me to pieces!"
"Say it little girl," somebody drooled. "Say what we're doin' to yez."
There was a dreadful pause while the convicts waited for my daughter's response. I knew that Robin was a good girl who would never use the word fuck, but now I prayed for her mouth to become foul.
She was apparently on the wavelength of her mother's ESP or just piteously desperate.
"You're FUCKING me!" she brayed it out for all to hear.
But they weren't satisfied. "What are we doin' it with?"
Their cocks, darling, their cocks! I mentally coached her on the correct terminology from across the room.
She was close. "Your PRICKS!" she screamed. "You're FUCKING me with your PRICKS!
And it's killing me. Are you satisfied?"
"I know one of the reasons it hurts so much, little girl," the brute fucking Robin's cunt fiendishly chuckled. He had something awful up his sleeve. "You know what I'm talkin' about. Why don't you tell us, sweet thing?"
Robin's face contorted into a mask of pain and shame, as her twisted his huge prick in her tight, young cunt to emphasize his words. I couldn't believe the mere insertion of a cock in a pussy could be so sadistic.
"Go on," the cunt-fucker insisted, "go on and tell us why my dick is hurting your little twat so much."
She didn't want to answer. It was clear that his question was as painful to Robin as the cock skewering between her forcibly spread legs.
He brutally slapped her. "C'mon, little girl, I ain't got all day. Didn't your mama ever teach you to mind your elders?"
She remained mute. Robin had brought herself to say fuck and prick, but she couldn't verbally manage this latest request.
The cunt-fucker's impatience lapsed into real anger, as he seized one of my daughter's nipples with each hand. When he twisted the succulent young buds of pink flesh, Robin cried out in withering pain. "Now're ya ready to tell me why it hurts so bad in your pussy, little girl?" he sadistically seethed. "I won't stop twistin' your cute little titties until yez do."
He wasn't kidding, either. Robin's nipples and the area around them, were turning purple from the hideous pressure of the convict's strong fingers. At the same time his cock was thrusting like a sword in her cunt, not to mention the second prick reaming her ass.
Robin was hopelessly trapped in a triangular sexual vise, pain embracing her from a trio of unyielding sources. Her dignity was literally being squeezed out of her imprisoned body.
She would have to give in.
"YYYEEEEEOOOWWW!" she finally let loose with that all-too-familiar sounding scream.
"Gonna tell us?"
"All right-all right. Just stop torturing me."
They let up a little and she gritted her perfect teeth into an even row. The words came out in a metallic sounding monotone, almost as if they were pre-recorded.
"As if you didn't know, the head of your penis is pressing very painfully against my hymen, almost to the point of rupturing it. Or to put it more bluntly, your big prick is popping my cherry."
"I thought so!" the cunt-fucker whooped. "Somethin' told me we had ourselves a little virgin to play around with! I ain't busted a cherry since my own sister's back home in Tennessee!"
Everybody in the room laughed except me and Robin. "Shit," some animal chortled, "we shoulda broke out of the pen a long time ago if this kinda tail was waitin' for us."
"Yeah," somebody else interjected, "if she's as young as she looks, the only thing they can do is send us back for statutory rape."
"Statutory rape occurs when the minor has consented to have sex with an adult," Robin surprisingly interrupted, still using the metallic voice. "Needless to say, I'd never say yes to you pigs. What you're up to is forcible rape, which should be right up your alley. I can't imagine any of you doing it any other way."
Then, for some reason, she looked down at Johnny Otis, the junior member of the gang who was holding her legs. Their eyes unquestionably met and she amended her accusation by saying with a noticeable lilt in her voice. "Except maybe one. There may be one of you, after all, who knows the right way to treat a member of the opposite sex."
Johnny knew who she was talking about, because he smiled at her and for a split-second there, I was almost certain Robin smiled back.
The rest of the gang, though, was as ignorant of these nuances as they were of anything else of any delicacy. Rough-shod was their game. Now that they knew they had a cherry teenager on their hands, their mouths were watering to do something about it.
The man fucking Robin's cunt began blasting away with his cock. He was using it like a sledgehammer, intent on busting things up.
The agony was reflected in Robin's face. Her usually angelic features were contorted into a rubbery mask of pain. The brutal cock in her pussy was obviously stretching her maidenhead to the limit. It would have to tear.
When an older man gives a young girl her first fuck, his prick is the camel and her untested pussy is the eye of the needle. The camel prevails when the eye can give no more.
This happened now, heralded as with the preceding atrocities by one of Robin's piercing screams. However, the most meaningful evidence was down below.
Thick red blood was gushing from the sides of Robin's cock-engorged pussy and pouring down her slender thighs. It killed me to see this, knowing what a good girl she was and how much her virginity must have meant to her.
There was no slow-down in the fucking as the blood flowed. The man in Robin's cunt was especially vigorous, pushing his cock through the rupture in the hymen until it was in to the hilt.
Now I had the sight of a grown man's hairy balls churning against my daughter's girlish vulva. It was one thing when I, an adult had been raped, but quite another for one so young and innocent as Robin. It was a miracle her inexperienced pussy could take all that prick.
However, when I looked back at her face, I saw that her teeth were no longer clenched. A whole new expression had come over her face. Incredibly, she looked almost placid.
"Now how does it feel?" the man fucking her to his nuts asked.
Her reply was a long, sighing moan. Obviously she was no longer in pain.
"It's different without your cherry, ain't it, little girl?"
She moaned again.
"Kinda feels good."
"Yes, yes," she astonished me with her answer. "I didn't know I was that deep inside. Do it harder-see how much I can take before I scream again."
That voice was not hers. She sounded as though she were in a hypnotic trance. The breaking of her hymen and the hilted penetration in her cunt had put her under a sudden spell. The girl who had resisted to the limit had been abruptly replaced by someone else.
Someone who somehow managed to wriggle free of the grip on her ankles and wrap her legs around the man hilting her pussy. Then he lifted them higher, locking the knees over his shoulders.
The man cornholing Robin knelt behind her, pumping his dick in and out of her ass. He'd been pretty quiet so far, but now he was grunting like a hard-working ox. Robin's repositioning had given him a better angle and he was taking advantage of it with a jack- hammering series of hilted thrusts.
"They're both in all the way," Robin announced. "I can feel the heads of both pricks meeting somewhere inside me. They feel like battling monsters."
I turned away. This was even harder to take than when she was writhing with pain. On her first fuck the daughter I had so carefully brought up was carrying on like a teenage call- girl.
Getting up to leave, I ran right into Ben. "What's going on?" he hissed. "Why didn't you come back?"
I pointed with a trembling finger. "L-look. They're r-raping my d-daughter."
"She doesn't seem to be feeling any pain," Ben observed.
"How can you say that to me?" I angrily retorted. "I'm her mother."
"Facts are facts, as we say in law enforcement," he squashed my complaint. "Anyway, this might be exactly what we need. The longer they take then the longer the SWAT team will have to surround the house."
I just averted a blurt. "Then they're here?" I managed to whisper.
"Trust me," Ben enigmatically replied.
"What'll we do until they get here?"
"Keep things going. The more time it takes to gang-bang your daughter, the better.
Understand, Donna?"
I nodded my head. Donna would just have to sacrifice her body for the common good as I had done. Like mother, like daughter, I rationalized.
So Ben and I returned to the livingroom. Nobody even asked where we had been all this time, so intense was their preoccupation with Robin's cock-stuffed body.
Ben got right into the inner circle. "You guys have had her long enough," he said. "I think I'd like to fuck her now."
The others mumbled under their breath, saying nothing explicit. In the meantime, Ben pulled his prick out and it was as hard as theirs.
Otis, the kid, had been standing at the perimeter of the action since Robin had wrested her legs free. Now, as Ben moved toward her body, Otis sprang forward with youthful quickness and physically restrained him.
"Hey-what's going on here?" Ben asked irritably.
"Wait a minute there, King," the kid answered. "Don't you think you're going out of turn."
"Are you trying to tell me that you were here first, sonny?" Ben snorted contemptuously.
"Hell, that doesn't count. You were just standing around watching like some kind of goddamn fairy. Out of the way, kid."
However, when Ben tried to move, Otis refused to let go. Finally Ben used his superior size to shake the kid off. However, when he tried to take a step, Otis lashed out with a right from nowhere and decked him.
Suddenly all eyes were on the fight. If there's one thing psychopaths like more than sex is violence. Robin had all the cocks pulled from her body and was dumped unceremoniously to the floor, as the three cons gathered around to cheer their favorite in the battle between Ben and the kid.
"You little son of a bitch," Ben growled and then shot up from the floor. Otis easily evaded him. Then, to rub it in, the kid kicked Ben in the ass.
Ben whirled around and rushed his graceful opponent again. This time Otis slid out of his antagonist's way at the last instant like a matador. Ben the bull went crashing into the wall head first.
I couldn't figure out what Ben was trying to prove. Why was he going to all this trouble?
Wasn't this taking undercover work beyond the point of reason?
In any case, it was too late for him to back out now. He had a fight on his hands and the very tough Otis seemed indisposed to show any mercy.
The kid let Ben get to his feet, but it was an offensive maneuver. For just when Ben was upright, Otis sent a vicious karate kick flying that was practically decapitating.
The back of Ben's skull cracked against the wall and he slid to the floor in obvious unconsciousness. However the kid was still giving no quarter and jumped him like a rabid animal.
"Kill him! Kill the motherfucker!" a vixen's voice screeched. I looked around and saw Robin with her eyes a bulge and her fists clenched, fanatically exhorting the kid on to further violence. Possibly murderous violence.
I couldn't let this happen. If anything happened to Ben, I was without an ally. Should he die, the whole rescue effort might go awry. Even if the SWAT team stormed the place, without Ben directing traffic Robin and I might be shot down like dogs along with everybody else. After all, wasn't that the fear Patty Heart had expressed about being rescued by the FBI?
Realizing I had to intervene, I leapt in between Otis and Ben, pleading with the former to cool down. I thought from the softening of the kid's eyes that maybe I was making some progress, but then the process was reversed by a raucous interruption.
"Leave him alone, Mom!" Robin hollered. "I want him to waste that cocksucker."
"Robin-you can't mean that!"
"I can and do. Don't worry, Mom, I know what I want and right now, I want this bozo wasted."
"What on earth for?"
"So I can fuck the winner," she gloated. "I want some young cock for my sixteen year old pussy, not this old-timey stuff."
When I looked into the kid's eyes again they had hardened. I felt a chill that raised goose- bumps on my spine.
Realizing that I was in the path of a killing machine, I jumped out of the way. While I gasped in horror at his side, the kid went to work on Ben, savagely pummeling him.
Since Ben could not fight back, it was not long before his face resembled fresh hamburger. His eyes were closed, his teeth were lying all over the floor, blood and bruises had destroyed his features. I had to look away from my battered lover or I would vomit again.
When I finally had the stomach to look again, the kid was gone. Ben was there in a bloody heap alone. And he wasn't breathing, either.
"I killed him," I heard the kid boasting to my daughter. "Killed the sucker with my own fists."
"Oooooh, you're so strong," Robin squealed in girlish admiration. "Let me feel your muscles."
"Forget about them," Otis sniggered. "Feel my cock."
I turned around in time to see him pulling it out. Robin eagerly grabbed the hard tool and began stroking it.
"Suck it," the kid ordered. "Take it all the way down your throat."
"One thing," she said. "What's your name? I like to know who I'm making love with- especially when he's just killed a man for the honor."
"Johnny. What's yours?"
"Robin."
"Well, how-do-you-do, Robin and please suck my cock."
"Only if you promise to come in my mouth, Johnny."
"I guarantee it."
She was down on him just like that. As far as I knew she had never had a prick in her mouth before, but she was sucking this one like an old pro. The kids learn so fast these days.
Her slurping noises filled the room, as her lips descended to her lover's balls. She was right about the kid's cock, it was perfectly the right age for her. The way it fit into her mouth was pure symmetry. In spite of my horror, I couldn't help wondering how it would fit into her cunt.
When she had proved she could easily take every inch of Otis' prick, Robin advanced to an even more complex oral technique. Suctioning her cheeks, she began sliding her pressed lips up and down his shaft, literally fucking him with her mouth.
One moment she would be nibbling his balls and the next only the head of his cock was inside. When the latter occurred I could see the big blue veins flexing on his hard-on. I had to admit it was a beautiful prick-being sucked by a beautiful girl.
Then, Otis' pelvis cracked against Robin's nose. His cock was suddenly buried in her throat, even his nuts partially between her lips. I had never seen such a furious thrust.
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" the kid announced. "Drink every drop!"
Robin's cheeks ballooned from the onslaught. Then she began to bob up and down, as she began to swallow.
She glugged it down, not letting a drop escape. By the time Otis withdrew his prick she was all finished and had a winsome smile spread across her cover-girl face.
"Ummmm, dee-licious," she passed judgment. "I can't wait to feel the second load in my cunt."
She reclined on her back and spread her legs until her knee-caps touched her ear-lobes.
Her wispily haired pussy was stickily glistening like a peach in a bucket of meat.
"Fuck me, Johnny, fuck me!" she begged for it. "Fuck my goddamn guts out with your great big cock. I'll show my bitchy mother that I'm old enough to have the man I want."
I winced when the kid moved between Robin's thighs and guided his throbbing hard-on toward her wet cunt. He hadn't lost an iota of phallic despite his ejaculation of just minutes before.
But despite my trepidation, I could not look away. I had to face it. Secretly I had been anticipating this moment all along.
The entry of that perfect young cock into that flawless young pussy. The first real thrust.
The movement of my daughter's ass. The lover's squeals of delight, as penetration was deeper and deeper and pelvic movement accelerated.
This was fucking. Real fucking. Love at its best.
"You got it!" the kid exclaimed and let go of the works. I could almost hear the jizz hissing into my girl's fuck-canal.
The pressure of the cascading cum was so great that Robin's normally taut tummy pooched out in a temporary pot. She must have been taking about a quart.
Then she could take no more. The flow of cum reversed itself and came pouring from her cunt, pushing out her lover's cock in the process. Her normally smooth and tawny thighs were lumpy and white with spilt jism.
"Oh, God, Johnny, can you fuck," she paid him the ultimate compliment.
He looked at her like he was ready to screw her all over again. However, before he could do or say anything, he was interrupted by the sudden opening of the front door. All eyes joined Otis' in an arc toward the point of intrusion.
The interloper was standing framed in the doorway, trying to figure out what was going on.
I recognized the person immediately.
It was my son.
CHAPTER TEN
"Richard!" I called. "Turn around and run away!"
However, it was too late. One of the four remaining cons had worked his way to the side of the doorway and stopped Richard in his tracks with a lunging bear-hug. He didn't quit squeezing until my son was an unconscious rag-doll.
After that, Richard was thrown on the sofa and discussed. "What'll we do with him?" was the concern of the consensus. Then one of them got specific with a dangerous line of thought. "Seems like every time we lose one of our own, we get one of them to take his place. Don't seem right."
"Yeah, maybe we oughta kill'm to change our luck," the apeman rumbled. "I could tear a little faggot like this to pieces with my bare hands."
"No, we've already had enough of that," Otis said without a trace of self-consciousness.
They started bickering. Then, in the midst of it, they were suddenly silenced by an irate Robin.
"Stop it!" she seethed. "I won't be ignored because of my goddamn little brother. Leave it to little Richard to always stick his nose into things at the wrong time. He's out like a light, so forget about him and fuck me some more. Mom can take care of him."
They agreed and quickly forgot about Richard and went to her lewdly positioned body. I couldn't tell whether her behavior had been a trick to protect her brother or the real goods.
In any case, what was done was done and I was quickly and gratefully at Richard's side.
I pressed my cheek to his brow, feeling if it was hot. My motherhood was so ingrained in me that after Richard's breath had been squeezed from his lungs I was checking to see if he had a fever.
Soon my cheek was caressing instead of acting as a thermometer. Then the caresses turned to soft and delicate kisses with which I covered my son's slack face.
The kisses didn't stop at his chin. I continued down his neck and opened his shirt so I could kiss his chest. Sucking his tiny nipples through his t-shirt, I made them stand out like pencil-erasers.
Then I had his shirt unbuttoned at the belly and was tonguing his navel. Scraggly little hairs that were growing in a sparse column below it tickled my lower lip.
All of a sudden I found myself facing his belt-buckle. Should I or shouldn't I undo it?
The answer was in his crotch. Richard's fly was taut from the bulging mass inside. As sure as I was his mother, my son had a hard-on. And I had given it to him.
I undid his belt and jeans without any further hesitation. I was literally drooling to get at his sweet young cock. A cock several years younger than even Otis'.
It came springing out in my tugging hands, everything that I had expected. It was a beautiful prick-smooth and slender, with pale blue veins just below the surface. And hard as a rock.
At six or seven inches, maybe it wasn't as long as a grown man's, but it was far more appealing. All of a sudden it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to seduce my own flesh and blood.
Like a trap, my mouth dropped over the head of Richard's cock. It seemed big enough to me as I swallowed the whole thing.
After a minute of straight sucking, I heard Richard begin to moan. He was unquestionably stirring. What a unique form of artificial respiration I had discovered.
He started talking. He was still out, but at least he was getting closer to consciousness.
He kept saying the same word over and over again, but I couldn't figure out what it meant at first. Then, the more I heard it, the more it seemed like a name.
"Eva, Eva," he said it more clearly than before.
"Eva Little?" I released his cock enough to ask.
"Yes," he replied. "She likes to take out my cock and play with it. Suck it. I thought she was doing it now."
Eva Little, I thought with disdain. She was nothing but the school tramp. Even the parents knew all the stories about her. I was offended by the thought of my splendid son having sex with such a common slut.
"Richard, how could you?" I was unable to withhold an expression of my emotions. "That girl is trash."
"Tell that to anybody who she's ever fucked and sucked," my son kept up his end of this bizarre conversation.
All of a sudden I felt challenged. As though I were being implicitly dared to prove that I was more of a woman than some high school punch-board.
"Well, this is not Eva Little sucking your cock, Richard," I seethed. "And it won't be her tight cunt you wind up fucking." Then I gave him the same advice my mother had given me as a youngster, years before. "Just relax and enjoy it."
My talking was finished. Closing my lips for a second time around my son's hard prick, I went down on him to his balls.
Richard's nuts were pink, hairless and smooth. When they rubbed against my lips it was like tasting candy. I wondered if the cum brewing within was as sweet as the flesh on the outside.
"Oh, Jesus," Richard was groaning, "you're using your teeth on me. Far-out."
Yes, it was true. I had them doing the work of a second pair of lips, nibbling on the inside while the originals chafed on the outside. My son's hard-on was being whipsawed by oral friction.
I became more and more anxious for him to come in my mouth, so I sought to accelerate the ejaculatory process. A couple of fingers in his tight young asshole, pressing down on his prostate, would undoubtedly do the trick.
My fingers slid under Richard's scrotum and slipped up the downy crack of his ass.
Halfway up I found his throbbing young anus and immediately penetrated it.
His ass was so tight that I could feel all the adjacent muscles working. Most emphatic, however, was the pulsing gland that lay just beneath the surface of the asshole. Richard's prostate-begging to be kneaded past the point of inflammation until his nuts exploded.
I probed and pinched the hyper-sensitive gland, causing it to swell larger and larger, but to become increasingly solid at the same time. The extreme heat emanating from it made the adjacent chamber of his asshole blasting hot and my fingers were burning.
Then, twisting my digits into a hook, I pulled the plug. With the sting of my painfully extracted fingers burning through his loins, Richard grunted and shot his pelvis into the air.
At the same time his balls slammed together into a knot and his cock grew an extra inch in my throat.
He came like a wildcat. The slippery cum was spouting from his cock like it would never cease. A gusher in my mouth.
His cum was so sweet. I was finding out that the younger they are the better they taste. I hoped when I was eighty I was still screwing a young boy on the side once in a while.
To demonstrate that I was a better cock-sucker than Eva Little, I swallowed every drop of my son's hot jizz. My stomach was bloated and glowing from its rich burden.
"Does Eva Little drink it all when you come in her mouth, Richard?" I sought an evaluation of my performance.
"No," he answered, "she lets it run out all over her face and titties, then rubs it all over with her fingers."
"Oh."
"But I like the way you do it better, Mom."
I fell backward as though I'd just been punched in the jaw. Then, when I had recovered enough from the blow to focus, I found myself looking straight into my son's baby blue eyes. Those eyes were laughing at me.
"You-you've been awake the whole time," I stammered incredulously.
"Just ever since you started sucking my cock."
"You-you little sneak."
"Blame yourself, Mom. You give terrific head."
My ire abruptly subsided and was replaced by yearning anticipation. "Better than Eva Little, son?"
"Hah, that tramp has a sore in her face compared to that mouth of yours, Mom. The things you can do with your teeth, tongue and lips are fantastic."
I was reeling again, but this time from an overdose of pure joy. A mother goes through her whole life waiting for a tribute like this from one of her children.
But, of course, I had two kids. And now the other one stuck her nose into the proceedings.
"Hey, will you lookie there, boys," Robin said raucously to the convicts. "Little Richard and Big Mom are gettin' it on! Oooo-weeee!"
Within seconds, Richard and I were surrounded by the four remaining convicts and Robin.
They began to clap like spectators at a jitterbug contest. "Fuck-fuck-fuck-" was their chant.
I was outraged that Robin would embarrass us like this, but when I looked at Richard he didn't seem to mind. Apparently he was just getting to the action that had been going on in the house all morning and he liked what he saw.
"Your friends or Robin's?" he asked me with a smirk.
I shrugged. "Mine, I guess."
"Groovy."
"Fuck, fuck-" the chanting continued in the background.
I looked at his prick. It was harder than ever, curving like a bow from his wispy loins. He was ready to fuck under any circumstances.
"Shall we, Mom?"
"Why not?" I sighed. "I've already done everything else there is to do today. Why draw the line now?"
Robin and her four convicts applauded. "Get it on!" she whooped.
I was too shaken to make the first move, so Richard was the aggressor. Quickly stripping away his clothing to reveal his muscular young body, he came to me and pushed me to the floor. Grabbing my knee caps, he pried my legs apart and leered at my gaping pussy.
"Mom, I love your cunt," he said and all of a sudden everything was all right. How could such flattery from one's lover fail to remove all doubt and hesitation-especially when your lover was your own muscular teenage son?
Sure, I'd gladly fuck Richard in front of all these people. In fact, I was pleased to do it, for my son and I would be giving them an exhibition of lovemaking at its purest.
"Oh, stick it in me, Richard," I begged. "Stick your hard cock into Mother's wet pussy. I need you to fuck me so bad."
Holding his prick like a sword, he came to me. While I held my breath, the head slipped between my cunt and then jammed into my fuck-hole. I exhaled, began wiggling my ass and we were screwing.
"Look at them fuck!" Robin exclaimed from the sidelines. "I'd heard those rumors at school about Richard and Eva Little, but I didn't know it was anything' this juicy. Wow, my little brother really knows what to do with his cock."
A fair enough evaluation. Richard's thrust was hilted now and I could feel his smooth balls rubbing against my vulva while the head of his prick stabbed my womb.
"What does it feel like, Mom?" Robin wanted to know.
"Like I've died and gone to heaven," I sighed. "I'm glad one of the males in this family knows how to fuck."
"You mean Daddy is a dud?" Robin giggled.
"Yes. Just think of his cock as a wet firecracker and you've got the picture."
That broke everyone up. I was especially interested in Richard's, laughter, because as it rippled through him it sent strong shock waves through his prick. The jerky movement had the walls of my pussy undulating with orgasm, as I really started to come.
"Keep moving it around," I broke up the mirth with a command. "It feels like a rattlesnake inside me."
Richard's ass began moving as much as mine. His cock corkscrewed to the depths of my cunt. In my excitement, I threw my legs around his waist and drew him even closer to me until our naked bodies seemed to join as one.
He was bucking his pelvis now, powering his rocking loins with more and more energy.
His prick became a miniature triphammer inside me, the head slamming away with a staccato tattoo.
I knew that he was getting ready to join me in orgasm. Wanting to feel his balls before they were drained, I reached down and cupped them. They were amazing in their turgidity.
Richard was clearly going to come harder the second time than he had the first. The mythology of the sexual endurance of teenage boys was obviously true.
I gave his balls one last squeeze and let them go. Upon my release they sprang to the sides of Richard's prick just as the engorgement in my cunt expanded.
"Come!" I screamed. "Come inside your mother, son!"
He grunted like a stuck pig and then let loose with everything he had. Which was plenty.
As I'd expected, more than he'd ejaculated the first time. However, I had not anticipated that it would seem like fully twice as much.
The molten flow of the cum was lava-like in its intensity. My womb became a stickily filled balloon, filled to the point where it would have to burst.
All of a sudden the jizz reversed its direction and rolled toward daylight. Richard's cock was blasted out of the way as the cum poured from my cunt. It was gushing down my thighs, drenching the upholstery of the sofa.
"Oh, God, I love it!" Robin squealed. "There's nothing more exciting than a pussy that's just had its fill of cum. Just makes a girl want to get down there where the action is and lick it all up."
"Why don't you do it, then?" her impromptu boyfriend, Otis, suggested.
"Just watch me!" Robin whooped and then tumbled over the back of the couch so that she landed right between my legs.
I couldn't resist. "Lick it all off, Robin. Lick all your brother's sperm off your mother's pussy."
Her tongue flew to my cunt on command. The raspy taste-buds began scraping my gooey labia, sopping up the cum.
However, as it turned out, lapping mother dry was not my little girl's primary objective.
She'd just used that as an excuse to replace her brother between my legs. With plenty of excess jizz still splotching my crotch, Robin stopped using her tongue as a licking device and started using it as a probe.
Yes, she was tongue-fucking me-stiffening her oral organ and jamming it almost as far into my box as her brother's hard cock had gone. How lucky could a mother be? First, being made love to by my son and now this!
Being a female with an innate understanding of anatomy, Robin knew which points to stimulate within the spasming maw of my cunt. The lancing tip of her tongue scored point after point, as my orgasmic tally mounted.
Then her hands pressed against my tits and she began working my nipples along with orally fucking me. Blessed with breasts herself, she knew just how to play with mine.
I wanted to reach down and play with her tits, too, but before I could figure out a way, Richard had beat me to it. Straddling his sister's back like he was riding a horse, he reached down and grabbed the little jugs, his fingers fumbling for the nipples.
I couldn't see if his cock was still hard. However, Robin delightedly informed all of us that it was.
"Wanna fuck sis in the ass with that monster between your legs, Richie?" she took her tongue out of my cunt long enough to ask. "I wouldn't mind it at all."
"Sure thing," he said and removed one of his hands from her breasts so he could guide his prick to the right hole. When Robin screamed into my pussy, I knew he had it in-and deep.
The convicts started getting jumpy. I guess they didn't like the Haley family stealing the show from them. In any case, they were clearly making plans to jump into the fray.
But they needn't have conspired. For right after she had gotten used to her brother's cock in her ass, Robin looked up and openly invited them to dive on the pile. "I want everybody fucking or sucking!" she declared.
All of a sudden I was a recipient of a cock in the mouth-J didn't know whose it was.
Another one slid between -my tits while Robin pushed the two mounds together so they would feel like an external cunt.
There were two more cons and they advanced to the rear to check out the pickings. What they found there, of course, was an unoccupied asshole-mine-and an unoccupied pussy, Robin's. It would take some imaginative maneuvering, but they would each have their cock stuffed in to something tight within moments.
Finally they managed it. My asshole was being filled with inch after inch of phallic meat and the same thing was happening in Robin's pussy. How that old sofa held all seven of us I'll never know.
I guess the main reason we didn't topple was that we moved in perfect synchronization.
We had meshed together into a machine, a sex machine.
Individualism took a backseat to the group experience. Everything was shared.
Whenever Robin or I felt a new surge of orgasm, we passed along the vibes to the men. It provided the effect of making them feel they could come as continuously as a woman, a treat previously denied them.
All of the cocks involved had had more than their share of action today, but they were all as hard as rocks. There was no question that they could all come again.
That trigger-happy teenager, Richard, was first to shoot his wad. I knew this because Robin cried, "Oh, Richie, your cum is so hot in my ass! Are you ever going to stop?"
Within ten seconds, I was wondering the same thing in reference to my tightest orifice.
The convict cornholing me had erupted like a geyser. I knew just how Robin felt.
Then, simultaneously, Robin was getting it in the cunt and I was getting it in the mouth.
Only my tits remained to be irrigated.
The prick between my jugs finished up its jerking movement and thrust its head all the way to my chin. Then, as it ejaculated, it drew backward, leaving a trail of cum from my face to my belly before it finished spurting.
The jizz would not stay in any of the holes where it had been deposited. The overflowing excess was drenching both our naked fuck-locked bodies, but particularly Robin's. She just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
When the cocks finally withdrew and Robin and I were alone on the sofa, I could see just how sticky she really was. The poor girl looked like she was melting.
However, her spirit was just as strong as ever. Noticing her dripping condition, she opened her arms and legs and invited me to her. "I licked you off, Mother," she pointed out, "now it's your turn to do the same."
I was tired from fucking so much, but the minute my little girl opened up her beautiful young body to me my energy returned with a surge. All of a sudden I went from aching to feeling as though I had just begun.
I attacked Robin with my tongue, ferrying glob after glob of semen into my mouth. In the process I got closer and closer to her sweet cunt.
Then, at last, her golden twat was right under my nose. My nostrils flared from its raunchy scent. I forgot about licking up the rest of the cum and began tongue-fucking it.
She closed her thighs around my head as I reveled in my first taste of my daughter's succulent honey-pot. It was a toss-up which was more orally satisfying-eating her out or giving my son head.
As though she were trying to swing my vote in her favor, Robin decided to up the ante.
"Have you ever sixty-nined with another woman, Mother?" she made her intention clear with a question.
I'd heard, of course, of this classic sex act, but was totally ignorant of it in terms of action. I had never knowingly sixty-nined a man, let alone a girl.
"Do it!" I cried. I was tingling with anticipation. My first sixty-nine!
Even though she was the one on the bottom, Robin moved into position with ease.
Manipulating my arms and legs as though I were her puppet, she swiveled around beneath me until my gaping pussy was dripping in her face from the gap of my buttocks.
The whole time my tongue remained in her cunt, twisting around along with her body.
My twisted tongue snapped like a rubber band just as the lips of Robin's mouth sealed the lips of my cunt.
Our tongues penetrated further and further, entering our wombs. Robin was such an expert at this that it became clear she had saved her virginity until this day by only having sex with women. Her innocence had only been heterosexual.
How many other girls and women had she sixty-nined? and more important, were any of them as good as I was?
Oh, well, if we got away from these convicts alive, I could always find out the answer to that later. Getting to really know my daughter-and my son-seemed like the most exciting prospect of my life. If we lived through this, we would come out of the experience with a totally new and unique relationship. I'd have all the sex I wanted at home even if my husband, Bill, never touched me again.
Robin and I were coming, each one's orgasm feeding the other. The sofa had remained stable with seven people fucking and sucking at once on it, but now it began to tremble from just the two of us sixty-nining.
However, we were climaxing too hard to be aware of the precariousness of our support. It was difficult to relate to something as mundane as the sofa's limitations when we were sure we were soaring, exceeding the boundaries of the universe in our orgasmic flight.
When legs gave way and the sofa pitched over, we went sailing across the room, landing in a heap. The impact drove our teeth into our pussies and we cried out with alarm.
I looked up from Robin's crotch to see what had happened. The sofa was tipped on its side, however this was not what commanded my attention. I couldn't believe my eyes. The place was empty.
"Where did they go?" I blurted.
"Who? You mean those guys?" Richard asked, as he sauntered out of the kitchen with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich he'd prepared himself while his sister and I were sixtynining.
"Yes, yes, what happened to them?"
"They left a few minutes ago," he shrugged. "Say, who were those guys, anyway? You said they were friends of yours, but I've never seen 'em around before."
"You won't believe this, kids," I said in a dramatic hush to emphasize the seriousness of the ordeal we'd just been through, "but those men were escaped convicts. One of them killed the warden."
To my astonishment, Robin broke out laughing. Suddenly I felt threatened.
"What's so funny?" I defensively insisted.
"What makes you think those dudes were convicts?" she toned down her laughter enough to ask.
"Well, the way they talked-the way they acted," I said in a rush.
"Did you ever hear one of them actually say they were escaped cons?" Robin smirkingly inquired.
I started to tell her that of course I had, but then held back the words at the last instant. In an abrupt inventory of my brain I could not actually recall any of those men ever having specifically stated they were escaped prisoners. They had referred frequently to leaving the penitentiary by force, but had never acknowledged their exact status.
When I finally spoke, I settled on a more qualified version of my originally intended remark. "If they weren't convicts, why were they wearing those grubby prison rags? I saw it stenciled on their clothes."
"Simple," Robin clucked. "They were guards not convicts and guards wear prison-issue clothing, also. They got all torn up to look like prisoners when they were escaping through the woods."
"That's ridiculous," I voiced my incredulity. "Why would guards be escaping from the penitentiary?"
"These particular guards were operating a heroin ring from inside the prison," Robin said evenly, as though she knew what she was talking about. "When they were cornered with the goods, they shot their way out."
"I don't believe you. How could you know that?"
"One of them is an undercover cop and he told me while we were fucking," she replied.
"B-but that's im-impossible," I stammered in confusion. Ben King had been murdered by Otis before he'd gotten to first base with Robin.
"No, it's not," she responded while looking me straight in the eye, something she could never do when lying. "His name is Johnny Otis and he told me everything."
"But he's the one who killed the warden!" I blurted.
"Just a cover-up so the. others would think Johnny was as tough as they are," she attempted to explain, as I shook my head in bewilderment.
I just stared at her. I now believed her, but that didn't keep me from being stunned.
"Oh, my babies," I sobbed with joy. "What have I done to deserve such wonderful children?"
"Nothing you're not going to be doing a lot more of," Robin chuckled. "Richard and I can promise you that."
