Quite recently, in the waning weeks of 1971 and the first few weeks of 1972, a Southern California Superior Court judge refused to sentence two youthful criminals to jail, after the two young men had been sexually assaulted, raped by a gang of homosexuals in a holding tank, while they were awaiting trial. Instead this humane judge chose to place the two teenagers on probation, and in so doing drew the ire of the local sheriff. The controversy still rages, but the judge is adamant in refusing to send youthful offenders to jail or to prison where they will be exposed to the rampant homosexuality that pervades almost all prisons.
It is subject that many prison officials tend to sweep under the carpet, but more and more as riots break out in prisons, it is the prisoners themselves who are bringing the subject out into the open in their lists of demands for prison reform. Some day, it is hoped that more judges will take the action that this courageous Southern California judge has taken, in refusing to subject young men and women to the rapacious assaults of sometimes vicious, sex-starved, older prisoners.
True, some reforms have been inaugurated. The seventy-two hour leave from prison, granted in California, in the weeks just before final release, helps inmates to make job and family adjustments gradually. Additionally, there are the family privileges for trustees, on good behavior. A cottage is provided, on the prison grounds, for a two-day visit, in strict privacy, of wife and children, where conjugal bliss can be re-established on a more or less regular basis.
... But what about unmarried prisoners? Unfortunately, their sexual needs are ignored, taken care of only by masturbation ... or indulgence in homosexual practices.
Other countries, notably in Latin America, have recognized this need. Prostitutes or women friends are brought to the prison regularly, providing the inmates with a normal, heterosexual outlet. American prisons should certainly consider some such system to break the constant cycle of homosexuality going on in our prisons.
Author F. T. Hemingway has provided us with a chilling story of what happens to men is prison ... and after they escape, as did Grayson Wright and Ralph Dickson, accompanied by a known homosexual, Jerry Sweeney. In "The Captive Newlyweds" we meet Bruce and Debbie Clark, who are on their honeymoon, when the three escaped convicts stumble into their mountain honeymoon cabin, looking for a place to hide out.
What does one do under these circumstances? Two of the men are interested in the young bride as a sexual object. The third has eyes only for the young husband.
It is with great pleasure that we present this timely novel, which points up a crying need in our society. Just locking men up doesn't seem to solve any problems. It is our hope that this story will make our readers think about the men society has forgotten.
-The Publishers Sausalito, California April, 1972
CHAPTER ONE
Sitting at a table in the recreation room, pretending to write a letter, Grayson Wright looked around furtively to make sure his answer wasn't overheard. "Hell!" he spat hoarsely, "That damned board doesn't want to hear the truth. They've got the idea that if they look the other way ... it'll all just fade away ... climb back into the woodwork, or something!"
"What did they actually do...?" Ralph Dickson asked, his pale blue eyes worried. "...Nothing...?"
Grayson ran his hand nervously over his short-clipped, black hair, his brown eyes furious as he growled, "I can't come up for a parole hearing for two more years ... and if I'm ever involved in any kind of rumble ... they'll ship v me up North! You know what that means....."
"Yeah ... maximum security ... like Soledad or Folsom! Christ!"
Wright glanced around the room, hating everything he saw. Men in prison uniforms talking, watching television, writing letters or sitting alone doing nothing thinking, perhaps but always under the watchful eyes of the guards. Pigs! He knew he shouldn't hate so much ... but damn it! There's so much they can't control ... don't know what's going on ... or don't give a damn, if they do! They just keep the lid on the garbage can ... and hope the whole place doesn't blow up in their faces! Contemptuously, Grayson curled his thin lips and grated, "I'll kill the next son-of-a-bitch that tries to corner me in the shower ... or crawl into my rack!"
"Yeah ... then you wind up on death row ... and what does that get you?" Dickson's brow drew together in deeply furrowed wrinkles, making him look older than his twenty-one years, and his almost white-blonde hair, clipped short, gave him a bald-headed look. "...Anyway ... if four or five of those queens jump you ... what chance have you got?"
"I'll take out as many of them as I can!" Grayson grunted. "...And, I sure as hell won't wind up like that kid ... that was gang-buggered last week!"
"That was a bad scene..."
"Yeah ... the hospital, then the psych ward! Christ! He didn't have a chance!"
"It's the young, tender ones they go for!"
"I'm not young or tender ... but that son-of-a-bitch I put in the hospital ... when he was trying to bugger me in the shower, didn't care who he was trying it with!"
"They'll be laying for you, now, Grayson ... and when they make their move, you won't have a chance of a snowball in hell!"
Lowering his voice, Wright, said, "That's why I'm going to walk away from here ... free and clear!"
"You're crazy! If they catch you, you get shipped up North ... and the whole thing with the queens get worse the farther north you go!"
"I won't get caught!" Wright said. "A person can get lost and stay lost in L.A. Once I'm out of here ... they'll play hell catching me ... again!"
"...And, you'll be looking over your shoulder all the time ... wondering who's going to fink on you ... and waiting for the knock on the door when they bust you ... finally!"
"It'll be better than this ... always having to be on the watch ... never letting your guard down ... being afraid you'll get jumped and buggered ... and worrying that some guy might start looking good to you, too!" Grayson spat, then went on, stating a well known fact to most convicts. "Hell ... if you're not queer when you come in ... you will be before you get out ... and that's not for me! I like pussy too much!"
"It's the system..."
"...But, they're only beginning to do something about it ... like letting wives visit, so a man can get a real piece of ass!"
"Yeah ... but a guy's got to have a wife for that!"
"That's the trouble! If they did it right, like they do in Mexico, they'd bring in some whores for the ones who aren't married! I think that's what'd keep down the homo thing ... more than anything else!"
"Well, there're the three-day passes. That gives a man a chance at some fun with the broads..." Ralph suggested.
"Yeah ... if you're within three months of getting out ... but what about all the time before that? Nothing ... except your hand ... or you start going along with the queens ... sucking and buggering ... and like I said, I don't want any part of it!"
"You're pretty smart, Grayson," Dickson complimented, "but I don't think you can escape from prison ... and not get caught, sooner or later."
"You just watch me, Ralph! Better than that ... why don't you go with me?"
Dickson stared at him, startled for a moment, then relaxed with a smile. "Hell ... I'm not stupid. I come up for parole in three months. If I make it ... I'm on the outside, free as a bird ... except for reporting to the P.O!"
A pudgy-faced prisoner minced over to the table where the two men were talking. His eyes, almost hidden in rolls of fat swept over Grayson Wright, as he spoke, "Well ... if it isn't the tough guy, the one that beats up on people, when they're just being friendly! What'd they do to you, Sweetheart ... slap your wrist with a wet noodle...?"
With undisguised contempt, Wright turned away from the pudgy queen, refusing even to talk to the man. He had been lucky; usually, the penalty was more severe than that which had been meted him. All he had to do was stay out of trouble ... but it was going to be hard to do. This fat queen was trying to provoke him; at least, so it seemed. Christ! I'm only out of solitary one day ... and they're at it, again! Now, how in hell am I supposed to stay out of trouble ... when they come looking for it?
"Oh, you're going to be coy about it?" the fat man taunted.
"Why don't you blow...?" Ralph suggested. "Grayson's had it ... if anything else happens, they'll ship him North!"
"I'd just love to...! " he smiled lispingly. "Blow ... that is!"
"Look, Sweeney," Wright grated, swinging around to glare at the fat man, "you're just asking for it! Now, get the hell away from me ... before I lose my temper!"
"My, my! You never learn do you?"
Grayson stood up angrily to his full height and glared down at the rotund figure of Jerry Sweeney, standing there before him with a smug grin on his roly-poly face, taunting him, trying to provoke him into taking a punch at him. "God damn it ... I've warned you to stay away from me ... or..."
"Or what ... Baby...?"
His fists were balling, and it was all he could do to hold himself back from pounding that pudgy face to a bloody pulp.
A raucous bell rang.
Promptly everyone in the recreation room was quiet. As they rose, carrying unfinished letters with them, games were put away, magazines replaced in racks, the TV set switched off and all talking ceased. Silently, the prisoners filed back into the dormitory, under the watchful eyes of the guards, who counted heads, as they went through the door. It was bed time as The Prado Insitute for Men, which was a euphemism for the minimum security prison, a part of the California Penal System.
It was probably an hour later, at least, that Grayson Wright still lay awake in his bunk in the almost quiet darkness of the long, barracks-like dormitory. He was perfecting in his mind exactly how he was going to get outside the fence surrounding the Prado prison. Getting out would be fairly easy; it was making his way back to Los Angeles, without getting caught that was going to be the hardest part. He had to escape. It was just a matter of time, he knew, until ... He hated to think about it, as he lay there listening to sibilant whispers, the stealthy groan of punished bedsprings ... and he knew what was happening ... knew that eventually it could happen to him, if he didn't get away. He visualized the blind groping, ovaled lips sucking furtively on hard, pulsing cocks ... or worse: The shafts of cocks fucking deep up into the rectums of other men. Christ! It scared the hell out of him!
His own sexual fantasies involved the softly pliant bodies of women, all voluptuously mounding breasts, curving hips and smooth-rounded buttocks, their wide-splayed legs cradling his lean hips as he drove his demandingly hardened cock deep into moistly clinging vaginal sheaths to flood them finally with his hotly spewing semen ... and there had been many of them. He tried to remember individual women: How they looked ... their hair, eyes, lips, breasts, hips, but it was difficult. The memories all blurred together into some abstract concept of woman, the counterpart of himself, the receptor or vessel to receive his spearing manhood.
... And, as his drifting thoughts played longingly with the memories of how it had been for him, nature did its natural thing with him, and he felt his blood pound into the shaft of his penis, to be trapped there bloating it to a hard, throbbing erection, his testicles below pulling up inside his scrotum as the sac was drawn up wrinkled and tight; then, his hand was stealing down under the rough wool blanket and dipping under the waistband of his shorts to grip the painfully hardened shaft of his cock. He worked the foreskin back, and his thumb spread the viscous droplet of lubrication that wept from the split in the blood-engorged tip. Damn! He hated to jack-off. It had always seemed like such a foolish waste to him. I'd sure as hell like it better ... if I could stuff it into a nice, tight, little cunt!
Suddenly, he was aware that someone was standing by his bunk in the darkness. He recoiled. Some God damned queen making the rounds! A hand groped out and touched his shoulder.
"Shove off, Queenie!" he whispered with infuriated anger.
The hand remained where it was, and the man was kneeling down beside his bunk, His face coming closer to whisper, "Take it easy, Wright ... I'm here to talk to you ... not that I wouldn't like to do you, too..."
"I'm going to start counting ... and when I get to three ... if you haven't fucked your ass out of here ... I'll..."
"Wait, damn it ... and listen!" the other man whispered desperately. "I want to talk to you about something else. Tonight, I overheard you telling Dickson ... that you were going to make a break!"
Grayson knew then that his nocturnal caller was Jerry Sweeney, the fat queen.
"You're off your head, Sweeney!" he grated, remembering that he had been watching alertly for eavesdroppers all the time he had been talking to Ralph. "Anyway ... you weren't close enough to us to hear anything...! "
"I don't have to be ... I can read lips ... and I know exactly what you were saying."
"The hell...!"
"Yeah, that's right ... and I just want to let you know that I'm cutting myself in! You're taking me with you!"
That was the last thing Grayson wanted. His mind raced trying to think of a reason why he should have someone like Sweeney with him ... when he walked away from Prado. There wasn't any, he decided; on the other hand, there were dozens of reasons for not taking the fat man. The first one that came to mind was Sweeney's gayness. "Christ!" he growled. "Why would you want to leave here...? A place like this ought to be paradise ... to a guy like you!"
"Hell ... I like them young and tender ... and they don't send anybody here that young ... or that tender!" Sweeney told him.
"That's tough titty!" Grayson grunted sarcastically. "...But, there's no way ... I'd never let you in on it. I'm going out of here, alone!"
"You won't be going anywhere ... if I pass the word to the pigs...! " Sweeney threatened.
"So! You're a God damned stoolie, too!? "
"No ... not really..." Jerry Sweeney lisped through pudgy lips. "Only when I want to be."
"Okay ... you win this round!" Grayson conceded, knowing that it was the only wise thing to do. ... But, I'll ditch the bastard ... the first chance I get!
"Stay in touch, Sweetheart!" Sweeney gloated, his hand sliding down to pat the obvious bulge in the blanket caused by Grayson's still half-erect penis. He was gone, then, padding away on bare feet, stealthily heading for his own bunk.
Grayson was repulsed by the fat queen's fleeting caress of his now throbbing cock, which was quickly coming up hard and demanding again. The son-of-a-bitch! With a determined hand he reached down to encircle his hardening shaft, and vigorously, deliberately, began to stroke it up and down, feeling it throb with warm vibrancy ... while at the same time, he tried to imagine that instead of his work-calloused palm that was going to bring him to ejaculative orgasm ... it was the tender, clasping cuntal sheath of a warm and softly receptive woman. Damn! I can hardly wait for that first piece of ass ... I'll get ... after I'm clear of this place!
CHAPTER TWO
Dropping the forced tone of gaiety she had assumed in talking long-distance to her mother in Des Moines, Debbie Scott's depression brought on by second thoughts about marrying Bruce Clark returned. She had just been discussing endless details of the wedding that was to take place the following week.
As she replaced the telephone in its cradle, she slumped back into her chair feeling a melancholy she wasn't supposed to be feeling; after all, brides-to-be were supposed to be happy and bubbling over with energy and enthusiasm. Her mother had been so concerned with all the little details, checking on whether she had done this and that and the other thing, and she hadn't wanted to suggest even that she wasn't sure whether she wanted to marry Bruce or not. It would have been a cruel thing to do, she decided, so she had put on that false front for her mother's benefit.
Practically all of the final arrangements had been made. She had worked feverishly to get them all finished. The chapel and minister were all arranged for, as well as the bridesmaids and matron of honor, the dresses bought and fitted, her wedding dress, lovely in its shimmering white satin, reposing in her closet, and of course, the wedding announcements had all been mailed weeks ago. Everything was in readiness except herself. ... And the worst part of it is that Mom and Dad already have their airline tickets and hotel reservations! She had the feeling of being crushed by a huge juggernaut, which she had set in motion herself, when she had said yes to Bruce's proposal of marriage. There seemed to be no escape for her, and she wished she didn't feel so much like a prisoner on death row, condemned to die and knowing the exact date and time of her execution. In her mind, she couldn't help making a comparison between the condemned criminal's short walk down the corridor to the gas chamber and her own walk down the center aisle of the chapel where she was to be married ... next week!
Morosely, she wandered into her bedroom, opened her closet and removed her wedding dress. As she held it up to herself and caught her image in the full length mirror, she thought about the symbolism of bride's white, the purity of it representing the state of maidenly virginity that she had almost lost ... last night.
Her second thoughts about marrying Bruce stemmed from yesterday's date with him. It wasn't that she didn't love him any more ... after what he did. It's just ... well, maybe I love him too much ... so much that I almost ... let him ... It bothered her that he had tried. He knew how I felt about it. . . ! Yes! It really bothered her, but the trouble of it was that she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was that bothered her so much. Was it something he had said? She had been so wrought up that she couldn't remember everything.
Carefully, she began to go over it, thinking hard, trying to remember every scrap of conversation. She found that harder to do than she realized. It was easier to remember what had happened.
Carrying the beautiful wedding dress with her, she went back into her living room where she hung it on the long drapery rod of her front window that looked out across the white sand of the beach toward the rolling surf of the Pacific Ocean. She loved the view from her window, remembering how she had fallen in love with this apartment in Huntington Beach the first time she had seen it. There was nothing like it in Iowa, and the land-locked woman, who had grown up in Des Moines, just had to live here, where she could look out at the ever-changing moods of the ocean. She even loved the fogs that rolled in to shroud everything in their ethereal silences.
... And so, looking out across the beach, where uncounted hundreds of people played, swam or just lay in the sun, she concentrated on remembering...
Yesterday had been Sunday, and she had invited Bruce for the day. It was to have been a foursome, including her roommate Marjorie and her boyfriend Ben; however those plans had gone astray, when Ben had had to change his itinerary for the day, his ex-wife having called to remind him that he had promised to take his young son to the zoo. Marjorie had gone with him naturally, leaving Debbie alone with Bruce.
Changing into swim suits, they had spent a goodly part of the afternoon on the beach swimming and sun-bathing. Bruce couldn't keep his eyes off of her, as the scanty bikini she was wearing only served to accent her excitingly shapely figure, mature, womanly but still petite and almost fragile with nipped-in waist swelling curvaceously downward to voluptuously rounded hips and buttocks, gently tapering thighs and long, curving line of calves, tiny ankles and equally small, narrow feet ... and upward to full-mounded breasts that were barely contained in the mere suggestion of a bra-top, all crowned by long, honey blonde hair over a pixie face with wide, brown eyes, a tiny ski-slope of a nose and somewhat full, sensuous lips.
"You're really something out of this world!" he complimented, unable to keep the salacious look in his eyes from her.
Debbie couldn't help seeing the lewd leer he gave her, but she tried to ignore it, telling herself that he was only doing what any other man would have done, for she was aware that her stunning figure always seemed to have some effect on males. As they walked across the sand, she knew that dozens of eyes were upon her. The thing she wasn't really knowledgeable about was the raw desire that shone from some of those eyes, to be reflected in envious and sometimes outright hostile stares of wives, girl-friends or mistresses, who recognized what she was doing to their men. "Pull your eyeballs back in Stanley! She hasn't got anything I haven't got ... even if she is a movie star ... or a topless dancer!
She had been deliciously happy in the knowledge that Bruce found her so attractive, and soon in less than a week she would be all his. Mrs. Bruce Clark! She had been saying it over and over to herself to get used to the sound of it. Debbie Clark, Bruce Clark's wife! Time seemed to stand still. Would her wedding day never arrive?
"Well, darling," she had returned, "you look very handsome, too ... you know!"
It was true. Bruce was a strapping six feet tall, lithe, strong and athletic. He had played basketball in high school and college, and he was twenty-six years old, five years older than she. She liked the way his green eyes looked out at her through his boyish grin, topped with fiery red hair that made her think of Viking warriors. It was easy to imagine him with a short sword in his hand, looking alertly out over the gray-green waters toward the shore of a strange, new land, then leaping nimbly from the prow of his boat ... It was so romantic, but she had to pull herself back to reality, telling herself she was being too much like a starry-eyed school girl. After all, she was going to marry the man, not a romantic myth ... and they were going to live together ... make love with each other, eventually have some babies ... but not for at least three years!
She had tried to imagine what it would be like, after they were married ... and Bruce made love to her for the first time. The images were blurred, and the question was academic. Of course, she had read some books, and she knew the mechanics of sex, but never having experienced anything bordering on a true sexual coupling she was in about the same position as a priest, pledged to celibacy, who attempts to counsel couples in sexual matters.
... But Bruce Clark, sexually knowledgeable and highly experienced couldn't keep his hands off of her ... either. In the water, he found every excuse to fondle her nearly-naked body; later as they lay on the beach, his hands went roaming, disregarding the sensibilities of other people near them.
Finally, Debbie felt she had to say something.
"Bruce ... darling ... I wish you wouldn't do that. It's so public ... so many people watching..."
"To hell with them!" he growled but grinned good-naturedly about it. "They don't have to watch ... if they're going to be offended."
In the middle of the afternoon, they had had enough of the blazing sun, and they went for a final plunge in the surf, finding the water refreshing and invigorating.
Debbie remembered; it had been at Bruce's urging that they had gone in for that final dip in the surf then headed back to her apartment house facing the beach, less than fifty yards away.
Still dripping wet and feeling the chilling effect of a light breeze, they had gone up to her place, where she had shooed Bruce into the guest bathroom to shower and change, while she had gone into her own room, with its adjoining bath. Quickly, she had stripped off her clammy bikini and stepped into the shower. Afterward, she toweled herself dry with an outsize, luxuriously soft, terry bath towel, draped it around her nudity and walked into her bedroom; then, intent upon searching out the whereabouts of a pair of her nylon panties in her dresser drawer, she was not conscious of the door having been opened and closed softly. It was not until she straightened up, the wispy panties in her hand that she saw him standing there behind her, the mirror reflecting his naked body.
Stiffening in surprise, she whirled to face him with a gasp. "Bruce!? What are you..."
. . .Then, she saw it! His penis was hard, elongated and pulsing warmly, as it speared out dangerously from his loins. Her eyes were drawn to it like bits of iron to a magnet. My God ... it's absolutely monstrous! Wide-eyed, she gaped down at his loins, unable for the moment to speak ... or even move. She felt as though she had just been dealt a stunning blow in the belly; fear raced through her unchecked, for somehow, she knew that her darling Bruce, the man she had promised to marry, had come into her bedroom, with only one thing on his mind. He wants to ... It was unthinkable. ... Before we get married!? He had been ardent before, and she had been able to handle him; then, her eyes with an effort of will swept up his trimly lithe body to his face, seeking some kind of answer or reassurance, at least, she might be wrong.
Her husband-to-be walked toward her, his face a mask of pure lust, his lips spilling out words ... words she couldn't believe.
"It's going to happen ... anyway ... next week ... and that's a hell of a long time to wait!"
Frantically, she clutched the towel close to her, while her heart hammered against her ribs, the meaning of what he was saying skidding around inside her skull, telling her that it was true. He meant to ... make love to her ... right then, and it was a whole week before the date already set for their wedding. God! She had wanted that day to be beautiful, mysterious and romantic, coming to her husband in their marriage bed, pure and virginal ... and suddenly, she was confronted with the reality that her darling Bruce didn't share that same ideal.
"My God, Bruce!" she choked. "...You can't mean...?" Her troubled brown eyes were drawn again hypnotically to the massively throbbing shaft of his penis, below.
"Honey, Debbie, yes! I want to fuck you ... now, I can't wait any longer." His leer was more than suggestive. It caused her to step back away from him, as though she had trod accidentally on a snake, while that horrible four-letter word drilled deep into her brain, jolting her with its uncouth sound.
"Don't be so ... so crude!" she snapped, as determination not to let it happen, now, flooded through her. "...Anyway, you already know ... how I feel about it. I've told you over and over ... that I want to wait ... to make our wedding night beautiful ... something to remember all our lives!"
"Yeah, I know..." Bruce mumbled, as he had reached her, planting himself solidly in front of her, his big hand going out to grasp the towel and strip it from her luscious, cringing body. "But what difference will a week make...?"
Then, dropping the towel he enfolded her in his arms, pressing her shameful nakedness against his own tightly, as he leaned his head down to kiss her, capturing her lips with his own, flattening and spreading them cruelly with furious ardor, until her mouth was forced open and his tongue darted sinuously into the moistly warm sweetness of her mouth to taste and savor probingly.
Futilely, she struggled writhingly in the circle of his hard-muscled arms in an attempt to escape him, but he was too strong. Her husband-to-be held her tight and close, her struggles only inciting him further as her naked abdomen ground against the massive hardness of his cock, standing up jack staff-straight between them. She felt it throbbing warmly, seeming to bore hotly into the soft flesh of her naked belly almost like a red-hot poker and reminding her with its imposing presence of what he intended to do. A hollow, helpless fear she had never felt before came alive churningly in the pit of her stomach. My God! He's really going to ... try ... to do it!
Helpless to do anything about it, Debbie felt herself being propelled toward her bed, the fear in her seeming to flee in the face of something stronger. It was an igniting spark of desire that had lain dormant, banked there in her loins, and now was being blown to smoldering life, leaving her confused, as her resistance ebbed from her, weakening her resolve ... and she found herself moving with him and allowing him to push her down to the soft mattress, where she seemed to float in a sort of slow-motion, suspended animation. Then, she was stretched out on the bed with Bruce there beside her. Suddenly, a lewd wantonness surged through her, making her want to feel everything ... experience it all ... all the way...
Avidly, his greedily eager hands began to explore her body, caressing and kneading the full, swelling mounds of her sensitive breasts, feeling their pliant, satin-like smoothness and glorying in his early possession of them. Damn! He'd been waiting for too long to try to get into her! She'd been holding out that tantalizing promise of a beautiful wedding night for months, now ... and he'd gone along with it ... until today, when he'd seen her in that all-revealing bikini. Christ! I've got to fuck her ... right now!
Her nipples began to distend, the aureolas to draw up at their bases, and she felt the glowing sensations he generated in her breasts that seemed to flow downward to her quaking belly, almost like a fiery stream of molten lava seeking the lowest elevation and filling her with a raw desire she had never known could exist. His mouth left hers then, and he was kissing and sucking on one of her fully elongated and sensitive nipples. Suddenly, his sharp teeth bit into it, causing her to whine in feeble complaint.
"Please ... darling, don't! Please ... don't do it. . . ! " she pleaded, sensing that she couldn't allow him to do what he intended. It was wrong, and it would ruin everything! If she could just get him to stop, right then ... before she was too far gone, it would be all right ... But, God ... if it goes on much longer...
She might as well have not spoken, begging him to stop. His hands prowled her body boldly with a mind of their own, and he wouldn't listen, turning a deaf ear to her whining pleas. He smoothed his palms over her ribs and down across the smooth, flat plane of her belly until he was teasing lewdly in the soft golden curls of her pubic hair, causing her to prickle with a strange, new anticipation, down between her tightly clamped thighs. Desperately, she tried to squirm away from his warmly dangerous hand. She knew that if he were to possess her there ... get his hand in between her legs, down there, it would be the beginning of the end ... of her virginity. Oh, Ooohh! I can't ... let him ... do it. . . !
Then, his mouth had sought hers again, and he was kissing her, his demanding tongue probing between her lips and trying to snake its way into her mouth. Suddenly, unable to stop herself from doing it, her mouth opened and her own tongue slid quickly up into his mouth to be nibbled and sucked, while below his hands followed her writhing loins. Deftly, he slipped his middle finger down the soft, moist slit of her pussy lips, splaying them open slightly ... enough to allow his finger to find the pulsingly erect bud of her clitoris, which he massaged with gentle yet firm authority. It was vibrantly hard, signaling him instantly that she was getting hot ... that it would be only a matter of moments before he could cradle himself between her trembling white thighs and drive his aching cock deep, deep into her tight, little untried cunt. Christ! He could hardly wait! When he touched the hardened shaft of her clitoris for the first time, he felt the recoiling shock of it in her body, heard her quickly indrawn, rasping breath, followed by her moan of mixed defeat and pleasure. Abjectly, she groaned up into his mouth, barely able to contain herself as she writhed helplessly on his tantalizing finger.
Desperately, she wrenched her mouth aside and panted up into her future husband's face, "Oh, God ... Bruce, darling ... we can't do it, here ... yet ... and Marjorie and Ben ... might walk in on us ... any time...! "
"I doubt it," he mumbled back. "...But, if they do ... they can damned well find the other bedroom!"
... And then, she felt the hard, vibrant warmth of his penis against the smooth inner flesh of her thigh, as he pressed it firmly against her there. Strange! There was moisture smearing on her thigh, and she wondered: Is it his ... sperm...? Then, she remembered. No ... it couldn't be that ... already! It's the lubricant ... that comes out first ... Meanwhile, his finger, searching expertly in the secret places of her virginal young pussy, had not stopped for a moment. It was there, now, assaulting her desire-tingling passage ... and she realized suddenly that she was getting all moist and ready down between her legs. Dear God. . . ! His finger had worked down her trembling pussy-slit until it was actually inside her vagina! "OOOoooh!" she mewled, mounting excitement causing her to arch her neck, her head beginning a side to side roll, uncontrollably, and her naked buttocks ground down into the soft mattress, endeavoring to escape that rapaciously tantalizing finger in her cuntal passage. No! NO! NOOOO! The word caromed around inside her skull. I can't . . .I-I just won't ... let him ... do it ... to me ... yet!
After a few more moments, his mouth pulled away from hers, and he dipped his head down to her breast, cupping the warmly pliant flesh cruelly in his hand, as he took a tiny, spiked-out, erectly sensitive nipple between his moist lips, sucking it deeply into his mouth.
She knew that she had to stop him before it was too late! ... But how? God ... how do I stop him? How do I make myself stop...?
Bruce's voracious sucking mouth was alternating now between her breasts, and slowly his hand eased from between her legs, his finger trailing upward, once again, to caress massagingly the short, hardened bud of her clitoris. Again also, she tried to protest with words, then with her hands, attempting weakly to push his hand away from her pubic triangle, but neither her voice nor her hands would respond; then she attempted to writhe her body away to deny him her breasts, but instead it seemed that everything she did only tended to arouse her the more. Belatedly, she realized that her actions (or were they reactions?) only served to incite him more, also, making of it a sort of cycle. For long, delicious moments, his mouth played on her throbbing breasts, his tongue finally trailing moistly through the narrow, fleshy valley between the mounded fullness of them ... and on downward...
His mouth slithered hotly down over her trembling belly, as his body moved up over her, his hardened, throbbing cock sliding into the valley formed by her tightly clenched thighs.
Lightly, teasingly, his moist, hot tongue dipped into the shallow depression of her navel, for a long moment, bringing mewls of pleasure to her lips ... before moving lower yet.
An involuntary gasp of surprise and erotic joy escaped her then, as his mouth inched lower and lower ... until it was there, sending maddening patterns of indecently lewd sensation charging through her body. God! His tongue was replacing his finger! It was pressuring down from the top of her desire-heated cuntal-slit to lap at the sensitive pleasure bud of her clitoris, and she couldn't stop him!
Then, she felt her thighs being pressed apart; she guessed what he was going to do next, but she was powerless to resist him as he hunched up between her obscenely splayed legs, his head going down between her smoothly tapered thighs, until he was nuzzling her traitorously acquiescing pussy. Her breath was sucked in in a startled gasp as she felt his thumbs pressing outward, spreading the soft, golden, hair-covered lips of her cunt. The cool air of the room washed over the warm, moist pussy-flesh, and she realized how obscene the situation was ... how utterly impossible! Again, she tried to stop him, but she seemed to be paralyzed, immobile ... almost as though she wanted it to happen, without having to take the responsibility for it.
With greedy avidity, Bruce's tongue flicked out, the tip of it teasing moistly against the short, hardened mound of her clitoral shaft, causing it to pulse with sensations she had never felt before this. Then, his fingers were spreading the tightly resilient opening of her cunt wider yet, and he saw the thin membrane of her hymen, intact, unbroken ... completely virginal. Damn! She's real cherry! There's never been anything bigger than a finger in there! It's gorgeous! With a moan of uncontrolled lust, he dropped his tongue downwards from her clitoris and shot it deeply into the coralline moistness of her smooth, throbbing, cuntal opening.
Her body recoiled convulsively from the sudden, moist contact, and she knew then that this was what she wanted! It would be all right ... because it wasn't the same as it would be if he used his enormous, hard penis, shoving it into her vagina and breaking the symbol of her maidenhood. This way, she could still be virginal ... and enjoy the experience of her first real orgasm. It was a handy rationalization, as wantonly, she reached down, her fingers entangling in her future husband's hair to pull his mouth hard in against her insanely demanding loins.
"Oh, OOooohh, OOOoooohhh!" she moaned, as she felt his long, agile tongue flicking in maddening circles just inside the opening of her vagina, sending delightful spasms of pure sexual pleasure surging through her. Oh, God! That feels ... so good!
... But, in the next moment to her own amazement, she heard herself groaning, "We've got to stop. ... darling! We've ... .. got ... to ... stop!"
Surprisingly, he did stop. He was moving up over her, wedging his hips down between her cringing thighs, leaving her unsatisifed cunt and filling her with both disappointment and consternation. Oh, God! Her vagina was burning alive with the fire of her need ... but she didn't want this! Why did he have to change?
Below, his lust-inflated cock, aroused beyond all reason, stabbed ineffectually at the constantly moving target of her cuntal opening as she writhed under him trying to keep him from shoving it into the untried tenderness of her young, virginal cunt. Finally in desperation Debbie reached down between her legs and gripped the thick length of his penis in her tiny, desperate hand. God ... it's so big! She felt it warm and throbbing in her hand, and as she deflected yet another plunging attempt on his part to thrust it into her, the loose skin slipped along its length, the bulbous head reaching out yearningly toward its ultimate goal.
She had never touched a man's penis before, and she felt a tingling thrill of delight as she sensed its power, pulsing there in her hand so impatiently; then she realized that her small fingers couldn't encircle it. Oh, God ... it'd split me wide open! It was impossible for this enormous thing to go into her tiny opening! Yet perversely her state of arousal, knowing no logic, obeying no boundaries, caused her to toss aside all caution. What would it be like ... if she went ahead now and let him bury it deep inside her passion-inflamed cunt? She was tempted. God! This was the way it was supposed to be ... with a man and a woman, who were deeply in love with each other ... who were going to be married. ... But, we're not ... married yet!
Maybe I've been wrong ... and it'd be all right ... if I went ahead and let Bruce do it ... to me ... Instinctively then and quite eagerly her hand began to stroke massagingly up and down the throbbingly alive shaft of his cock, rubbing up and down its massive hardness with maddeningly tantalizing strokes.
Bruce, lying on top of her, grunted with frustration as he flexed his lips, still trying to shove his aching cock into the moistly tight smoothness of her pussy. His teeth ground together and his breath was laborious as he gasped, "Debbie, honey ... put it in for God's sake! Put it in your cunt ... so I can fuck you ... right now! I've got to fuck you ... Debbie!"
Again, his lewd use of that obscene, four-letter word jolted her. Somehow she couldn't associate fucking with loving. It sounded so animalistic ... and vulgar ... foul and nasty, down there below, her pulsating cunt quivered with need for him.
"Darling..." she moaned. "I'd love to ... but I can't do it! I . . .just can't ... do it! You'd hate me ... afterward, because when we're married I wouldn't be ... the same!"
"Christ ... it wouldn't make any difference! It's only a few days ... until the wedding ... but I've got to fuck you ... now!" he whined with passion. "Anyway ... if you love me ... you won't let me hang here in mid-air ... with my balls and cock aching ... so God-damned hot and frustrated!"
All of her physical being, her lust-incited body, was telling her that she had to give in and let him do it; all the while, however, her moralistic mind had tried to maintain a modicum of control, attempting to keep her inflamed senses check-reined, but God ... how she wanted it ... wanted him ... wanted his hardened shaft buried deep in her demanding cunt, fucking her to starry-eyed orgasm!
Heaving himself up above her on muscular arms, her husband-to-be used all the strength of his back and legs to flex his pelvis, driving his lust-engorged cock straight toward the softly pulsing entrance to her cuntal passage, while at the same time he pressed her legs back, upturning her naked loins and exposing her completely to his rapacious assault ... and for a flickering instant, Debbie relaxed her grasp on the throbbing shaft of his cock, allowing the bulbous cock-head to nestle into the tender, virginal flesh of her pussy.
The flashing, electric contact, the sudden realization that a sexual moment of truth had been reached, causing something to snap in her brain transporting her in a twinkling back to the glaring daylight of raw reality. My God! What am I doing? What am I thinking about?
"NO!" she cried frantically. "NOOOOOoooo!"
His mouth dropped down to capture her contorted lips, smothering her voice, but she talked up into the wetness of his mouth, even as he tried to squirm his cunt-seeking cock into her now fear-cringed vaginal opening. Just a little more, God damn it ... and I 'll get it in her! ... And, when I do ... I'll fuck her to hell and back! he thought, as she was saying, "We'll both be sorry ... that we've ruined it!"
"I can't wait any longer! It's got to be now!" he cried.
She kissed him back hard, then allowed him to slither his voracious tongue into her mouth as he continued to thrust his cock into her moist, hair-lined cunt's mouth. It went into her a fraction of an inch more, and she suddenly knew that if she didn't do something quickly, the breaking of her hymen would be an accomplished fact ... she would no longer be a virgin! Insanely, she writhed her hips under him to keep him from penetrating into her smooth, pink passage, so moistly prepared already for his plundering entrance, his every stroke sending wild sensations surging through her uncontrollably. In final desperation Debbie reached down with her other hand, gripping his monstrously invading cock's shaft now with both hands and wrenched it away from her wanting cunt's mouth, twisting it and pulling upward. Dimly, she knew that he, too, was in desperate straits ... that her denial would leave him frustrated beyond all reason, and she was willing to do anything, at that moment, to help him gain release ... except the one thing she knew he really wanted. She just couldn't let him do that!
Holding firmly onto the warm vibrant rod of his desperately ramming cock with both hands, she cried out groaningly, "Bruce! Oh, please ... Bruce, darling ... let me do something else to make it all right ... for you?" she pleaded with him, meaning every word of it. The idea repulsed her, but at that moment, she would have gladly let him use her mouth or her breasts ... even her rectum, if he had asked. ... But, I can't let him ... do it to me ... down there!
... And then suddenly he was pumping wildly, his hips driving the demanding shaft of his cock back and forth in the double-handed grip she had on it, his voice raspy in his throat, his breath coming in short, gasping pantings. She felt the shaft of his cock expand jerkingly in her hands, as helpless gasps of passion purred from his lips, ending in a gasping sob.
"Oh, good God ... I'm cumming!" he groaned.
Spurting from the slitted head of his cock, the hot fluids of his semen, hosed from him thickly in seemingly never-ending ejaculative spasms, and she felt it hot and wet on her naked belly, as it began to seep down between her thighs, some of it becoming trapped in the golden curls of her soft pubic hair. All she could think of then was a heartfelt murmur of thanksgiving. Thank God! I'm glad! I'm glad he came ... like this!
She released his still wildly spewing prick to hug him close to her as he collapsed on top of her shudderingly. Her own arousal was still unsatiated. Her cuntal passage still tingled where he had tried to ram his blood-engorged cock's head into the vestibule, but she knew that she was right in not letting him have his way with her ... before they were married. Her desire would cool, she decided. . . .And next week ... when we 're finally husband and wife ... it'll be just heavenly! She knew it!
In the next moment, her future husband was heaving himself from off of her, his lips spouting forth angry, foul language.
"I'll be a son-of-a-bitch!" he roared. "I can jack-off anytime I want to! All I wanted to do was fuck you ... at least once, before we get married. I wanted to make sure we were all right for each other ... that we could really make it ... together!"
"I'm sorry ... darling..."
"Sorry?! Christ! You're just a little cock-teaser!" he insulted. "...And, how do I know you won't keep right on being that way ... after we're married?"
"No! Everything'll be different ... then ... Bruce, darling!" Debbie defended.
"...Or will you be one of those wives who're always having headaches ... or backaches ... or some other damned thing ... anything to keep from having to go to bed with your husband?"
"Please ... darling, you don't understand..."
"I understand plenty ... and I'm getting the hell out of here, right now! At least, I know of one place I can go and get a good piece of ass ... anytime I want it ... and I've a good mind to do just that!" He crawled from the bed angrily and stamped away on bare feet toward the guest bathroom, leaving his future wife sexually unsatisifed, insulted, demeaned and totally miserable ... naked and shamed, on her own bed. She tried to hold back the tears brimming to her eyes but she couldn't. They flowed bitter and salty from her eyes as she dissolved into self pity.
A few moments later, she heard his determined, angry step on the stairs ... and he was gone, gone from her life, for good, as far as she knew.
Then, after midnight, he called her on the telephone to apologize. She heard his slurring voice and knew that he was drinking; as a matter-of-fact, he sounded quite drunk.
"Why don't you call me in the morning, darling ... when you're sober!" she suggested coolly.
"I'm not that snockered!" he protested.
Debbie hung up on him.
He had not called during the morning. She had called in sick, feeling unable to face the workaday world. Her office manager was understanding, even suggesting that she could take the rest of the week off, if she wanted to, to get ready for her wedding. She declined. At that point, she didn't know whether there would be a wedding or not.
Now, it was almost noon, and Bruce had still not called her. God! Maybe he won't! All of her beautiful plans for her wedding had been for naught; much worse, though, her day-dreams about married life, of marriage to Bruce Clark, had all been punctured, and like the balloonist who loses gas from a leaking bag, everything was crashing to earth in ruins, for her.
CHAPTER THREE
"Wanda? Bruce..."
"I know..." Her voice came down the wire to him cool and distant. "So....."
"I'd like to see you."
"Oh? Why...? The last time you were making noises like everything between us was finished."
"Well, I'm sorry you got that idea. You knew I was getting married ... and it seemed like it just wouldn't work to..."
She cut in before he could finish. "You mean you wanted to lock the skeletons in the closet, so that little blonde prude you're marrying wouldn't get wind of your tomcatting ... isn't that it...?"
He didn't answer right away. She was taunting him. He knew that, but in his present state he just had to see her, hold her full, voluptuous body in his arms, again ... and fuck her wildly as he had done so many times before; then, he said, "I wanted to ... sort of start clean with Debbie. You know ... try to be the right kind of husband..."
"Did something happen to make you change your mind...?"
"No ... not really," he said airily, trying to dismiss her query.
"...Then, why are you trying to crawl back to me?"
That hit him right between the eyes. With an effort of will, Bruce Clark controlled his sudden, rising anger. Hell! If I'm not careful, I'll blow it ... and I've got to see her!
"You know, Wanda ... you can be pretty bitchy sometimes ... and I'm trying damned hard to overlook it. You know why I want to see you!"
"Oh, you poor dear..." Wanda hissed with elaborate sarcasm. "Does my baby hurt ... and you want me to kiss it and make it all well again...?"
He was seething, but he came back calmly, "Yeah ... and you know what it is!"
"Did she toss you out already,", she queried, "even before you're married . . '. ? "
"Debbie's got nothing to do with this!" Bruce growled. "Is Jack there? Can you get away ... and come over here?"
"Jack's gone to Dodger Stadium to see a baseball game with a couple of friends," she told him, "...and, sure I could get away ... but why don't you stick your neck out, for a change, and come here ... if you want to see me that bad!? "
He considered it for a moment. He and Wanda had been carrying on a clandestine affair behind her husband, Jack's, back for more than a year, now. Jack Howard was also his employer. Bruce handled all the book work for his electrical contracting firm, expediting, purchasing and disbursement, and up to this point, Jack had never been given a reason to suspect that his lovely, black-haired wife was cheating on him. Of course, everything they did was discreet, for they had met most of the time at his apartment, an out-of-the-way motel or in some other city, such as Santa Barbara or Palm Springs; it goes almost without saying that they avoided the home she shared with her husband, Jack, like the plague.
"It'd be a little risky," he hedged, consulting his wrist watch. "It's already pretty late in the afternoon ... and the game'll be over in a little while. Anyway ... it's easier for. you to give Jack some excuse..."
"Look, Bruce ... I meant what I said! If you've got to see me so damned bad, then you come over here! After what you said last time, though ... I should just hang up on you and tell you to go fly a kite!"
"Please ... Wanda, darling?" he pleaded.
"Crawl, then, damn it!" she grated.
"Okay, Baby! I wouldn't do it for anybody else! I'll be over there in about forty minutes!"
God damned bitch! It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life: Swallow his pride and slink back to Wanda. Christ! What had he been thinking when he tried to burn bridges behind him, so to speak? Wanda had been just about the most generous woman he had ever known. She was always ready for a good fuck ... but hell ... she's married to Jack! There'd never be any kind of a real life for us, together! That's why he had been so eager to marry Debbie Scott! He was twenty-six, and quite frankly, he was getting a little tired of always having to sneak around to make it with Wanda Howard ... or haunt the cocktail lounges, looking for a quick pick-up that usually turned into a faster lay and the possibility of getting set-up to be robbed ... or worse: like a dose of the clap ... or syph! Then, he'd met Debbie a few months ago. She was like no woman he had ever known. Christ! She was about the sexiest woman around, but he'd found out fast enough that she didn't play around. She was saving everything for after marriage. That's what she had told him, but disbelieving it he had tried. His latest effort, today, had been a pretty dismal failure....I was so damned close! Christ! I had the head of my cock in her tight, little cunt ... and she changed her mind ... at the last second!
Bruce drove rapidly, thankful that there was only sparse traffic on this Sunday afternoon. He had a right to be all wrought up, he told himself. Debbie's luscious body in that next-to-nothing bikini had driven him right up the wall, to the point where he'd had to have her. Anybody who's even half a man would've tried the same thing ... if he'd had the chance! What really galled him was that he'd cum with her hanging onto him with both hands, spewing his spunk all over her belly, instead of deep up in her gorgeous little pussy ... where it belonged! Such a God damned waste! With Wanda though, things were different; she knew all the little tricks that made fucking her a wild experience. ... And, she never gets enough ... always coming back for more!
Before he arrived at the Howard's fashionable split-level home, situated in a good location in the Sherman Oaks area, he had decided that it would be more prudent to park his car a block away ... just in case Wanda's husband, Jack, were to come home earlier than expected. He consulted his watch. Not much time! Of course, the traffic's heavy as hell coming out of the stadium ... and that could be a big plus in my favor! Then, he thought of another possibility: Unless ... he leaves early!
Wanda greeted him with her usual dazzling smile, melted into his arms and raised her lips to him, open-mouthed, for his kiss. Bruce held her close in the circle of his arms, his hands smoothing down her back to the full-swelling mounds of her voluptuous buttocks, fingers digging into the pliant flesh through the light-material of her dress, while above his mouth absorbed her tiny, wet tongue that slithered sinuously into it. Her loins were plastered solid and hard against him, and as he pulled her in even harder, he felt her hips rotate undulantly and suggestively. God! It was just like old times again! I must've been out of my head ... when I was trying to break it off with her! Hell! There's no reason why I couldn't marry Debbie ... and still keep right on laying Wanda Howard ... whenever I wanted to ... or needed to! He was thinking ahead, now, to the possibility that his future wife might not keep him satisifed all the time. After today's little scene ... I don't know what'll happen! It's sort of like buying a pig in a poke...
Hot blood pumped pulsingly, below, to be trapped in the elongating and hardening shaft of his penis, and he felt his balls being drawn up tight to his abdomen by his contracting scrotal sac, as his erection grew to blood-engorged fullness inside his confining trousers. It was an ego-satisfying feeling, and he was going to make the most of it. Damn! He was anxious to get her stripped naked and into a bed. ... And, I've got to get out of here in less than an hour! There was no time to lose!
Finally, after long moments, Jack Howard's wife leaned back in the circle of his strong arms, breaking the deep communion of their kiss and grinning impishly up into his face through gray, smoldering eyes, asked, "Drink ... darling...?"
He was fairly sure then that everything was all right, that their relationship had not been hurt. "You're not on your ear I take it...?" he grinned back at her.
"Well, not really, now..." Wanda answered. "I was, but I had time to think about it ... while I was waiting for you to get here." She turned and led the way from the entrance hall into her well-furnished living room.
Bruce followed enjoying the view of her sexily swaying hips, the blue-black sheen of her long hair hanging down her back, and below those luscious legs, smooth and creamy, tapered to perfection. God! He couldn't begin to count the times he'd been cradled between those satin-smooth thighs as he shoved his throbbingly demanding cock deep into the moist warmth of her clinging cuntal sheath. He could have kicked himself all the way to hell and back for even thinking he should end their affair! That was just plain stupid!
Going directly to the bar, Wanda turned back toward him and queried, "What'll you have...?"
"Just you, Wanda! There isn't time for a drink ... now!"
"Isn't that something ... Bruce Clark turning down a drink?" There was a certain mockery in her tone, something he couldn't quite put his finger on to identify. He decided quickly to let it go by, not to let it bother him.
"...And, for a damned good reason!" he told her, reaching her in three long steps to pull her close into his arms, again, his mouth hungry on hers as his tongue shot splurgingly between her soft, full lips deep into her mouth to search and taste. Obligingly, she nibbled and sucked on his tongue; while at the same time, her tiny hand slid in between them to caress massagingly the huge bulge of his erect penis inside his pants. Then, dexterously, she searched for and found the tab to his zipped fly to lower it, the metallic sigh seeming louder than it really was in the quiet peacefulness of the living room. With sure, deft knowledge, Wanda Howard snaked her tiny, soft hand inside his fly, gripped the warmly pulsing shaft of his massively hardened cock and pulled it out into the cool air of the room, where it stood up long and hard in her hand between them.
He thrilled to her touch, his cock's shaft lurching involuntarily in her hand, and his own fumbled with the zipper running down the back of her dress. When he had lowered it to the base of her spine, his hand went inside the dress to caress the smooth, velvet-like skin of her back, feeling it warm and vibrant on his palm. Now, he was really in a hurry. He had to have her stripped naked, the sooner the better ... like right then!
Breaking the tongue-jousting kiss, he leaned back away from her pulling the dress down over her arms and forcing her to release her grasp of his hardened cock-shaft. Then as he slipped the garment down over the swell of her hips Wanda cracked, "I see you've got a good, hard reason there."
She stepped out of the dress, then stooped and picked it up to carry into the bedroom, clad in only the briefest and wispiest of brassiere and panties. Bruce, following behind her removing his crew-necked sport shirt, responded, "...And, I'm going to fuck the daylights out of you with it!"
Wanda looked back over her shoulder, flashing him that impish smile and cooed in mock fear, "Oh, you scare me, Daddy!"
They were in the bedroom then and Bruce was kicking off his chuka boots and dropping his pants. His employer's wife watched him as he finished undressing, and he was standing before her nakedly tall and lithe, his pulsing erection spearing out enormously from the mass of reddish pubic hair covering his loins.
"I'm still curious ... about what happened...?" She cocked a quizzical head pertly. "Did you try to make it with that little blonde you want to marry ... and she turned you off...?"
"It's a long story, and I don't have time to tell it to you!" Bruce evaded. "Anyway ... you'd never believe it!"
Carelessly, he tossed his shorts aside, came to her, reached around behind her and released the hooks of her brassiere. The garment came off in his hands to release the full high-set moons of her breasts, placed high and close together on her chest, the valley between them cloven deep. Damn! She was such a mouth-watering delicacy. In the next instant he had dropped his mouth to a spiked-out nipple, his lips capturing and engulfing it to suck and nibble, while his hand cupped its satin-skinned twin, his strong fingers digging painfully into the pliant flesh. She moaned softly as she leaned against him her hips undulating in tiny circles on the hardened flesh of his cock trapped between their bellies.
Jack Howard's wife felt that tell-tale weakness in her knees, which told her of her building arousal. Bruce always seemed to affect her like that; but of course, her husband's comptroller wasn't the only man who could do that to her. There had been and still were others, including Bruce Clark and her husband, Jack. While she had been waiting for Bruce to arrive, she had thought it all out. She was going to level with him, let him know exactly what the score was, and let him decide what he wanted to do.
Backing away from him and forcing him to give up his ardent sucking of her breast, Wanda stripped her panties off and stretched out on top of her bed. She lay on her side facing him, her dark, smoldering eyes wandering over his well-built body. He was still standing there looking down at her, and she reached out and under to stroke the crinkled, velvet softness of his balls.
"Bruce ... darling, I've got to tell you something..." she began. "Can it wait, Baby?"
"No," she answered levelly, "I want to tell you, now ... because I want you to know about me. You know ... neither you nor Jack really know me..."
"You pick the damnedest times to talk, Wanda! What I want, right now ... is action!"
"Don't worry, darling ... you'll get what you came for!" she promised. "...But, I'm going to tell you this, now ... because we don't have much time ... remember...?"
Now, she was sitting up, one soft hand still fondling, scratching lightly along the sensitive skin of his scrotal sac, while the other grasped the rock-hard shaft of his cock, expertly working the loose fold of his foreskin back over the angry red-fleshed cock-head. Slowly, her head came down to it, her tongue flicking out sinuously to lick away the tiny, viscous droplet that oozed from the split in its tip. The electric contact caused his lust-stiffened penis to jerk and expand involuntarily, in her tiny palm.
"Yeah, I know ... so are you going to suck my cock ... or waste time just talking .--. . ? " He was rapidly becoming exasperated with what he thought was her stalling. "I'm going to..."
Her statement was cut off in mid-utterance as her mouth was suddenly filled with the bulbous head of his stiffly erect penis. He had reached out for her head, gripped it and shoved it down hard, the blood-engorged head of his cock forcing its way up into her mouth, as she had no alternative but to open her mouth wider, ovaling her lips and taking the smooth, rubbery coronal knob deep into her oral cavern. Damn him! Now ... I'll have to tell him later on ... and it won't be as much fun! There was a revengefully sadistic notion in her mind that she wanted to carry out, knowing that it would deflate his ego. So ... okay, he can have his little party ... then I'll let him have it straight from the shoulder!
Jack Howard's voluptuous wife slithered her curvaceous body around until she was lying prone, propped up on her elbows on the edge of the bed, while Bruce stood there spread-legged, his hands still gripping her head, as she began to suck enthusiastically, as always, her tongue doing wickedly erotic things to his swollen cock-head. He looked down at her smooth, alabaster breasts hanging prettily, like ripened fruit ready to be picked, then his glance took in her satiny white back, nipped in at the waist, and full cream-white buttocks, returning finally to her lovely face, where the hardened shaft of his cock was disappearing into her mouth between the softness of her tightly ovaled, hungrily sucking lips. God damn! It's just like it always is with Wanda! What a beautifully wanton and delectable woman she was ... and he loved her in a hopeless sort of way, knowing that he could never have her for himself, alone.
She had made it clear, plainly understandable, from the very beginning that she would never leave Jack Howard. Of course, any damned fool could figure out why in an instant. All he had to do was look around her home, observe how she dressed, the cars she drove and the social circles in which she moved. Jack lavished money on her, spending it as though it were going out of style. ... And, I ought to know! The books Bruce handled for his employer showed the net profits from his booming business in nice, neat figures. A couple of times Clark had been tempted to siphon off some of that money for his own use ... but easy as it would have been for him to do, embezzling money as well as carrying on an affair with his boss' wife, Wanda, just wasn't his cup of tea. He remained scrupulously honest with the bookkeeping, having made a choice in favor of uninhibited sex with her ... almost any time he wanted it. It was the best choice, too, as far as he was concerned; then he'd gotten this bug about having a wife and home to round out his life, where he could get his fucking on a regular basis, without sneaking around, always being afraid he'd get caught with her. Hell! Wanda was satisfied with things like they were ... so why not keep it that way?
Jack's wife's head was beginning to bob up and down now, absorbing more and more of his throbbing length, and her tongue swirled around the tip of it on the out-stroke, causing delicious sensations to pound through him as everything seemed to concentrate there in the pulsing head of his cock. Bruce flicked his hips to drive it deeper into her mouth and throat, as he held firmly onto her head.
"God ... that feels good, Wanda!" he choked. "...But I want to shove it in your cunt, now! I want to feel that luscious pussy of yours milking my cock ... and..."
Leaning back as he released his grip on her head, she allowed the moist shaft of his cock to slide out of her mouth; then she slithered her body around to lie straight in the middle of the bed on her back, she said tauntingly, "I thought you were in a big hurry...?"
"Well, yeah ... I am," he grunted, looking downward at her slightly spread thighs, where he could see the dark, soft curls of her pubic hair and the pink flesh of her cuntal slit, the two tiny petals of her vaginal opening peeping out, glistening dully with the viscous droplets of moisture exuding from the walls of her cunt, "but I've got to get my cock in you ... for a really good fuck!"
"Then, Debbie isn't that the blonde's name? must've turned you down cold!" Wanda was probing again.
Filled with exasperation, Bruce Clark crawled onto the bed, grasped her knees and splayed her smoothly tapered white thighs wide apart to reveal the whole, exciting feast of her loins to his gaze, growling, "Women and cats! Christ! You're mighty damned curious ... or is it green-eyed jealous...?"
"Me, jealous?" she laughed, "That's a good one!"
"Why?" he queried as he lowered his face down between her legs where it poised just over the split of her coral-hued cuntal flesh.
"It just proves what I said. You don't really know me!"
"Oh, I know you all right!" he assured her.
"Are you going to fuck me ... suck me ... or just look at it?" Wanda asked him, feeling bitchily sarcastic, looking down at him through the deep, narrow valley between her full, erectly mounded breasts and hoping that he would use his mouth on her first. She went absolutely wild with wanton passion when a man any man did that to her.
Instantly, his head dropped the final few inches and his tongue shot out to bury itself deep into the moistened orifice of her wildly anticipating vagina, which brought a moaning mewl of pleasure to her lips; then, as his tongue twirled in expertly teasing circles just inside her already lust-inflamed cuntal opening, she reached down and entangled her fingers in his tousled red hair to pull his face in tight to her undulant loins. Sadistically, she decided that now was the time to tell him, let him know exactly where he stood with her.
Gasping as she felt the high-voltage sensations begin to crackle through her body, she said, "I'm going to level with you, Honey, and you'd better listen ... okay?"
Bruce Clark's head moved up and down affirming that he heard and understood; then, he raised his lips, his tongue pressuring up through the moist pinkness of her throbbing cuntal slit to find the short, hardened shaft of her clitoris. She moaned as his tongue danced a staccato rhythm along the sensitive bud.
"You know that I'm not satisfied ... with only one man ... otherwise, you wouldn't be here ... but what you don't know is ... that I'm a man hunter..."
He mumbled something against her grinding loins that she couldn't understand, but it didn't make any difference; she plunged right ahead. "Before, I started making it regularly with you ... I used to make it with two or three different men ... every week!"
Raising his head, Bruce growled, "So ... why are you telling me this, now...?"
"Because ... I never really stopped!"
"What do you mean?"
"Every time I went to Palm Springs or San Francisco ... I'd pick up some guy in a cocktail lounge ... and have a sex party with him!"
"I'll be damned!" Bruce knelt up between her legs, his face working with anger and surprise. "Are you trying to say that I'm just one of your studs ... and I don't mean a God damn to you? Is that it...?"
"Now ... let me ask you one?" she hissed. "Is there any difference between that ... and your crawling back to me for a quick fuck, after your little blonde turned you off...?"
"Well ... " Bruce hesitated for a moment. There was more than a little truth in what Wanda was saying, and grudgingly he had to admit that it was so.
"...And, didn't you have the idea that maybe ... you could keep laying me ... even after you marry her...?"
Suddenly, he grinned. "Yeah, that's right. I did think about that...! "
"Is that what you want...?"
"I was hoping you'd take me back..."
"On my terms...?"
"What terms?"
"No strings!" she told him.
"What do you mean...?"
"Don't make noises like you own me ... and don't take me for granted!"
"Okay, that's fair enough!" he agreed.
"I thought you would ... and I wanted you to know exactly where you stood!"
"Yeah ... I know ... standing in line..."
"You could say that ... I suppose," Wanda said, knowing that she had accomplished her purpose. Looking up at him where he still knelt there, between her legs, she saw that not only was his ego deflated but his penis as well. The shaft of it was drooping downward, only half hard, now. She smiled kittenishly, as she saw his eyes look down dismally toward his softened cock and added, "...and speaking of standing ... I see your cock is trying to lie down on the job!"
"Christ!" He was disgusted. "That's the first time I've ever lost a hard-on before I got to use it!"
"You were angry."
"That's right!" he grunted reaching down to take the soft shaft of his cock into his hand. "Now ... let's finish it up! I still want to fuck you!"
"Don't worry darling ... I'll have it standing up big and hard in just a little while! Let me get up, now!"
Quickly, she was up on her knees, and was pushing him backward. "...And you lie down!" she went on. Bruce Clark stretched out to his full length in the middle of the bed, while his boss' wife reversed her position, throwing a leg over his body, her buttocks facing his head; then as she knelt down on all fours, her head came down over his loins, at the same time as the whole of her pussy, ringed scantily with dark, softly curling pubic hair, hung just over his face tantalizingly.
* * *
Surveying the maze of parts sourly under the open hood of his car, Jack Howard took out his wallet and searched through the plethora of cards until he found the one he was looking for, the telephone number of his automobile insurance company's roadside services; then, he headed back toward the stadium across the jam-packed parking lot in search of a public telephone. He was irked no end. What a hell of a time and place to have the battery go dead!
The mid-season game the Dodgers were playing against the Giants was desultory, the pitching uninspired and the game riddled with more errors than any big-league game should have. Jack decided to leave when the Dodgers' beginning pitcher was relieved in the top of the eighth inning. There was no way the relief pitcher could have pulled the game out of the bag, for the scoreboard showed the Giants leading by seven runs. The score stood at nine runs to three, and the first batter for the Giants, going up against the new pitcher, hit a line drive down the third base line that put him safe on first base.
Downing the last of a can of beer, he growled complainingly to his two cronies, "Hell ... this game's not much better than a high school game! It's a waste of time ... and I'm going to get the hell out of here, so I don't get caught in the traffic jam!"
"Aw, stick around, Jack, for the last inning," Len Eastman urged, "and we'll all stop off for a drink on the way home."
"I'll take a rain-check on that, but thanks anyway, Len." He got up to leave, telling both Len and Chuck goodbye and promising that the three would get together for the next game. "...But, I sure hope the team's got more steam than they had today!"
Then, when he tried to start his car, he found the battery dead. He thought about taking the time for the rest of the inning and stopping for a drink with Len and Chuck, but he didn't want to leave his car. It wouldn't be safe, he decided. It'd be stripped before midnight!
He called the insurance company and waited at his car for their Service truck to arrive. By the time his car started the first surge of homeward bound baseball fans were clogging the exit roads with thousands of cars, and there was nothing he could do but move with the pack. Even after he had gotten on the freeway the traffic moved at a snail's pace.
Damn the rotten luck!
* * *
With a moan of renewed anticipation, Bruce felt Jack Howard's wife take the only half-hardened shaft of his cock into her tiny, soft hands, then as she seemed to be rolling it back and forth between her palms, he felt the surging lurch of it, growing to resurrected erection. God damn! He felt as though he'd been on a roller-coaster ride, his emotions and desires being battered and jounced up and down for too long now, first with Debbie, his bride-to-be ... and now with Wanda Howard. It was an age-old dilemma of male human beings. Women! I'll be damned if I understand them!
In a very few moments his penis was standing up erectly at full attention, jerking spasmodically, and he felt the deliciously moist warmth of her mouth smooth and tantalizing when she ovaled her lips to take the blood-engorged head of his cock up into her mouth once more.
Hanging there undulating just above his own mouth was the tender, pink slit of his boss' wife's needful pussy, and as below, he felt the slow bob of her head up and down the expanding shaft of his cock, her tongue swirling lickingly around the head on each upstroke, he reached up with his hands and spread the dewy lips of her vagina; then raising his head slightly, he met her loins as they came down tight against his face, his tongue snaking out to delve deeply into the sheath of her cuntal opening. He heard her quickly indrawn gasp of pleasure from deep in her chest. It was a sex game they both loved to play, and he knew how it was with her. Oral manipulation of her cunt almost drove her out of her mind; four, five or more orgasms shuddered through her body deliciously, at times, but damn it ... much as I like the oral route, I was wanting to do some regular fucking ... shove my cock into her and fuck her for all I'm worth!
Nevertheless, the sensations burgeoning in his penis, as her honey-smooth mouth sucked at him, her head moving up and down, now, in a gradually faster tempo her mouth and throat taking ever more and more of his lust-hardened shaft, caused him to begin an instinctive flexing of his loins to drive it upward into her oral cavern with urgent fucking movements. Somewhere deep in his belly, behind the base of his cock, he felt the searing heat of his sperm ready to burst over the spillways in its mad rush of ejaculative release, having been dammed up for too long, already.
Thrusting his tongue, forward and down, then, as he pulled it out of the moistened depths of her clasping vagina, he found the erectly pulsing shaft of her clitoris. Wildly, he began to lick up and down the hard, little bud, the tip of his tongue searching for the sensitive head of the miniature phallus, and her pussy ground down hard against his lips in insane gyrations. Damn! She's almost ready to cum! The knowledge goaded him to even greater effort, as his wet tongue danced tantalizingly right on the lust-throbbing head of her clitoral bud.
Suddenly, she moaned around the thick root of his penis, her body spasming jerkily, hips grinding and her breath coming in panting gasps through her nose, and he guessed that she had come to a soaring climax while still sucking voraciously on his expanding cock. Only unintelligible sounds seemed to emanate from deep in her throat and chest, animal-like.
Wanda Howard's boy was quiet then, the convulsive spasms giving way to tiny tremblings, which he could feel in the smooth flesh of her inner thighs where his hands still spread the lips of her cunt open to his lewdly plundering tongue. He went right on, his tongue licking her clitoris now with insane desire, as he felt the burning sensation of beginning climax; the molten lava of his semen was almost ready to erupt from him. Oh, Christ! Suck it ... hard! Suck it! Suck it! SUCK IT!
He found himself slamming his hips up at her face to drive his demanding cock deeper yet into her mouth ... and then it was there for him. He came! The scalding stream rushed jet-like the length of his thrusting, expanding cock; his brain was caught in a sensation of suspended time and place, and there was nothing but the feel of his penis jerking wildly and spewing forth his load of viscid sperm deep into her mouth. He could feel her throat working, heard the muted sound of it, as she swallowed and sucked, swallowed and sucked, his penis a concentrated mass of sensation, his balls tingling, and he roared through clenched teeth gutturally, a meaningless, feral sound of completion. God! It was pure ecstasy!
As from a distance he heard her. She was saying words, words he couldn't understand for a moment or two. Finally, his senses cleared and he understood what she wanted, for her pussy was undulating, again, down against his mouth. "Oh, good God! Bruce ... darling! Don't stop ... now! Don't ... stop!"
She was kneeling up over him, her heated pussy pressing down hard against his mouth and nose and cutting off his breathing. He knew that she was going to cum again ... but there was little he could do for her.
Using the muscular strength of his arms, he pushed up against her thighs, causing her to pitch forward. She caught herself on her hands, looked back at him and groaned, "What the hell...?"
"Stay like that ... with your ass up in the air!" Bruce told his boss' wife, while he quickly scrambled up to kneel down behind her, his hands going out to spread and hold her cunt's lips apart. Then, he dropped his head down, his tongue shooting out to tantalize her clitoris again stimulatingly.
"Oh, that's it ... darling!" she mewled.
Before his eyes was the tiny, crinkled orifice of her anal passage. He could see it working tremblingly and decided on the instant that he would bring her to the absolute pinnacle.
Dipping his middle finger into the viscous moisture that exuded from her vagina, he brought it up to begin a teasing circling of the tightly puckered ring of her rear passage. She recoiled with the first touch, then her hips undulated back against his tantalizing finger, and he heard her whine pleadingly, "Go ahead ... and do it, darling! Shove your finger in my ass!"
He did. He rammed his finger all the way to the palm in one smooth thrust. Wanda wailed keenly with the temporary pain of it, but in the next instant her loins backed grindingly against it to absorb his worming finger completely; then, for good measure, Bruce used his thumb, too. He thrust it deeply into the pink moistness of her vaginal opening, while at the same time his tongue licked at her clitoral bud.
Then, he began to move both his thumb and middle finger in a fucking motion in and out of both passages at the same time.
"Aaaagh!" she groaned. "Oh, God ... darling, that feels ... absolutely out of this world!"
For not more than a dozen strokes, he ravished her genitals, doubly, before she almost literally exploded into her second orgasm. Convulsively, she thrust back against him, and with a full-throated scream, she came.
"' A A A Aaaauuuggghhh! Goddddd! IlllI'mmmm c c c u u m m i i i n n ggg ! AAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!"
Slowly, then, she sagged down to the soft mattress, her breath uncontrolled, soft mewls of satisfaction emitting from her lips. As she collapsed, Bruce's thumb and finger were forced from her wetly clinging cunt and the smooth spongy depths of her rectum, and when she was prone on the bed he crawled up and lay down beside her on his side. After a few moments, she crept into the circle of his arms, feeling wholly and completely satiated.
They lay there quietly, each enjoying the delicious aftermath of sexual satisfaction, for several minutes; then, Wanda stirred and said softly, "Maybe I was wrong, Bruce, darling ... You're really something special ... for me ... and I want you to come back to me ... any time you want to..."
"Even after I'm married...?"
"Why'd you have to bring that up ... again...?"
"Because I am going to get married ... I think..." he told her.
He thought about it and decided to tell her the truth, as he went on, "...And, I think the reason I'm going to get married is because ... I can't have you...! "
"...But, you can have me ... almost any time!"
"Not all the time, though! Not for ... my wife!" he blurted.
Oh, God! That's true! she thought. There was no answer to that. She had told Bruce at the outset, almost a year ago, that she would never leave Jack ... never divorce him! "All right, Bruce ... I understand..." she murmured.
Suddenly, in the front part of the house, there was the sound of the garage door opening. With wide, surprised eyes she looked at Bruce Clark helplessly and moaned, "Oh, my God! Jack's home!"
They were galvanized into action. Bruce jumped off the bed and began tugging on his clothes. "I'll go out the back!" he grated. "You get on a robe ... and pretend you were napping! ... And, for God's sake toss your clothes in the closet ... so he won't see them!"
Wanda hastened to obey. She gathered up her scattered garments and threw them in a careless heap into the corner of her closet, then grabbed a light dressing gown and shrugged into it. She was frightened beyond all reason, because never before had she given her husband, Jack, a reason to suspect her. She had always been discreet and circumspect, and this was the one and only time she had been careless. God! Never again, she vowed, will I even think about ... bringing somebody into my home ... my own bedroom! It had been sheer insanity, on her part, she decided, to let Bruce Clark come to her house, today.
Bruce was dressed now, and as he slipped out her bedroom door, making sure that his employer was not yet in the house, he whispered, "I'll call you..."
"No! God, no!" Wanda Howard whispered back. "I'll call you! It'll be ... safer!"
Quickly, he brushed her lips with a kiss and was gone rapidly, letting himself out through the large, sliding, glass door that gave on to the patio. As soon as he was beyond the swimming pool, he sprinted the short distance to the garden gate, which led to the alley. He made it, his heart pounding hard in the roof of his mouth, and he realized his mouth was dry with fear and excitement. Christ! I just made it! Gaining the alley, he slowed to a fast walk and headed for his car, glad that he had not parked it in the Howard's driveway or even on the same street. God damn! That was close ... too close!
* * *
Jack Howard was mulling over a mundane decision as he put his car in the garage. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was already too late to take his car to one of the local service stations to have the battery re-charged. I'll just take Wanda's car in the morning ... then the service station people will have mine all day ... He was still irked by having wasted his time on that Dodger game, followed by having a dead battery in the parking lot and the heavy traffic jam he'd had to battle to get home, again. It was going to be nice to settle down in front of the television set with a chilled, very dry martini...
Going into the house, he made his way quickly through the living room, into the hallway and entered the master bedroom, his hurry dictated by a full and aching bladder. That damned beer!
His wife was sprawled on top of the mussed bed, obviously sleeping. Moving silently past her, he headed for the bathroom, not failing to note her curvaceous legs, those beautifully tapered, white thighs, where at the apex of them, he could see her dark, curling pubic hair peeping out, barely covered by her dressing robe; above, he saw her sleep-tousled hair, jet black and shining, and just below the smooth-skinned neck, the robe was parted to reveal a full-rounded, naked breast. Damn me ... if Wanda isn t the sexiest ... and the most beautiful woman ... I've ever known! He decided as he had a thousand times before that he was one hell of a lucky man to be married to her!
In the bathroom, the door closed, Jack stood holding the flaccid tube of his penis and watching the amber stream splash into the water with relieved satisfaction. Seeing his wife stretched out on the bed, naked but for a flimsy robe, had piqued his sexual interest, and he wondered idly what would happen if he made a pitch to her for a little, Sunday afternoon sex party. Hell! It's been a long time since I've done that! When he started thinking about it, he began to wonder whether or not he hadn't been slipping a little ... hadn't been paying enough attention to Wanda, lately ... or, he considered ... maybe it's the other way around!
A sudden movement caught his eye through the partially open window of the bathroom. The image wasn't very clear, and he saw it for only a flickering instant; it was the figure of a man going out through the gate into the alley. God damn! Some son-of-a-bitch trying to steal something, it looks like!
Then, he remembered his lovely wife, Wanda, lying almost naked on their bed. ... Or it's a peeper! Somehow, his second guess seemed to him to be the most plausible. The guy didn't seem to be carrying anything. He probably ran ... when he saw me come into the bedroom!
Feeling better, now that he had relieved himself, he zipped up his fly, washed his hands and went into the bedroom. Wanda was sitting up, clutching her dressing gown about her nakedness.
"Oh, Jack..." she said, trying to show some surprise, "you're back already! How was the game, darling! Did the Dodgers win?"
Reminding himself that he'd go out to the back yard and check around, later, to see whether anything had been stolen, he went to where Wanda sat on the edge of the bed, perched beside her and took her voluptuousness into his arms, feeling the wonderful, womanly softness of her body.
"Yeah, I'm here. The game was lousy. The Dodgers lost. I had a dead battery. The traffic was backed up ... and somebody's been peeping in at my wife, while I was gone!"
Wanda's heart seemed to skip a beat, as she tried to remain calm, holding her breath for a beat in time, before she remarked with the proper surprise, "Do you mean ... somebody ... a man, was watching me ... while I was sleeping...?"
"I'm just guessing..." he told her. "I saw some guy hauling ass out through the back gate ... while I was in the bathroom, just now!"
God! He must have seen Bruce! "Didn't you do anything ... about it?" she gasped.
"Hell! I wasn't in any position to do anything!"
"...But what if he intended to ... rape me ... or something?
"Peeping Toms aren't rapists ... usually..." He assured her. "So, let's forget about it. I'll check outside to see if anything was stolen, later!"
"Later...?"
"Yeah ... after we finish having a little fun!" He was sure of it, now; he could feel the blood pounding into his cock, below, bringing it to hard readiness. His hand smoothed up and down her back, then went up inside her thin dressing gown to capture the softly pliant mound of a breast, his fingers rolling the nipple to almost instant hardness. "How about it...?"
"Oh, Jack ... I..."
Her husband's lips were on hers, mashing them flat against her teeth, and his tongue stabbed into her mouth hungrily. Wanda stiffened for a moment, before she melted into his arms, a renewed glow suffusing through her belly, as her own tiny hand groped out to him, rummaging in his lap until she found the hard shaft of his penis to rub massagingly through the material of his trousers.
Finally, she broke the kiss and panted chokingly, "You'd better get yourself ... naked, darling!"
Jack got up off the bed and began to undress rapidly. His wife watched him, as the garments came off his body, revealing his once hard-muscled frame, now showing a flabby pudginess about the middle. While he was tugging off his clothes, he kept his hazel eyes on her, watching as she tossed off the dressing gown and lay down on the bed, her legs spread almost obscenely, and he saw her hips rotating in tiny expectant circles. Damn! She's already getting hot as hell!
Wanda loved her husband. He was very dear to her ... and it was no fault of his that she felt the need for searching out other men, hunting them down and seducing them. She saw his sandy, greying hair that was getting a little thin on top, now, a sure indicator of his age, which was forty-seven, sixteen years older than she was. Even so, she found him an adequate and powerful lover, and as she watched him, now, standing before her with his massively stiffened cock lancing out from beneath the slight paunch, she renewed her vow that under no circumstances would she risk losing him. He's too good a man!
Crawling up on the bed over her, he lay down on top of his wife and said, "Wanda, darling ... I'm glad you stayed home, today. I've been wanting one of these Sunday afternoon lays for a long time!"
"I'm glad ... too! Why don't you just go ahead ... and put your cock in me ... and fuck me ... hard!? "
"Okay, doll ... if you want it that way!"
"I do, Jack, darling! I want it ... hard and long ... and deep!"
* * *
Later when Jack found the cigarette lighter on the floor of their bedroom, recognized it and knew who it belonged to, the first taint of suspicion entered his mind; especially, when he remembered that the man, who had gone out the back gate, was tall and red-headed. ... And, Wanda seemed to be aroused ... so damned hot ... even before I touched her! God damn! I just wonder ... is it possible...? Was it Bruce Clark I saw? He turned the lighter over in his hand, examining it closely, and decided that he'd have to find out how it got into his and Wanda's bedroom.
CHAPTER FOUR
Everything had turned into a nightmare after Jerry Sweeney had badgered his way into the prison escape Grayson Wright and Ralph Dickson had planned. In exchange for Sweeney's silence and a tacit understanding that neither of the two men were to become sex objects of the group of depraved homosexuals, who almost nightly prowled about the dormitories in search of willing or unwilling inmates upon whom they forced their perverted sex practices, Grayson had been forced to accept the homosexual as a member of the escape party.
The escape itself was not difficult; in fact, the Prado Institute for Men was one of the easiest prisons in California to walk away from, having been designated as a minimum security prison. There was only a high wire fence. An escapee had the choice of going over it, under it or through it. Grayson had opted for going through the fence, and for this purpose, he had stolen a pair of heavy metal shears capable of cutting the chain link fence. He had hidden the shears well; not even Ralph knew where the implement was located. There had been a shake-down, of course, after the tool was found missing, and there was no evidence pointing to Grayson as the thief.
"When does it happen, Wright...?" Sweeney inquired when they were standing in line at the mess hall, his sour breath hot against his neck.
"Tonight ... One-fifteen," Grayson muttered. "Be dressed and ready!"
"What about the pig...?"
"We take him out ... then we tie him and gag him!"
"That takes too much time!" Sweeney whispered. "Why don't you just tap him on the head with that tool you say you've got ... and we'd be on our way!"
At one-nineteen, the dormitory guard effectively immobilized, Grayson drifted away from the dormitory, wraith-like, taking advantage of every shadow. Reaching the spot he had pre-selected, he used the heavy shears, cutting through the mesh of the fence easily and rapidly, the noise of the snipping tool seeming as loud as pistol shots in the black stillness of the night.
Bending the wire back with his hands, Wright made an opening large enough for him to climb through. Right behind him, Ralph Dickson writhed through lithely with room to spare, but when the fat queen clumsily tried to squeeze his bulk through the opening, he became stuck fast.
"God damn it, Wright ... you didn't make it big enough for me!" the fat man whined aloud.
Grayson was there beside him instantly. "Shut up, you damned fool!" he grated through clenched teeth, as he swiftly made three or four more cuts, allowing the bulky man to slide on through. For an instant, Wright had considered leaving the overweight convict right where he was, but decided in favor of freeing him for fear that the fat gay one might set up a howling clamor that would get them all caught, even before they could get a hundred yards away from the prison.
"So far, so good!" Wright whispered. "Now, follow me! We'll cross the road and drop into the ditch on the other side!"
One by one, with Grayson Wright leading the way, staying in the shadows, the three men crossed the road safely; then, wriggling on their bellies for almost a quarter mile in the drainage ditch, they made it to one of the section roads bounded by navel orange groves. In the middle of an orchard more than a mile away from Prado, Grayson called a halt. Listening intently for any sounds of pursuit and hearing none, as yet, they sat down.
"Now, I figure we can walk over the hills down toward Anaheim, where we can get some clothes and split up," Grayson told the other two. "I'm going to head for L. A.! "
"We'll never make it!" Sweeney gasped. He was sweating and out of breath. "That's where they'll be looking ... and they'll have a chopper up at daybreak combing those hills!"
"Then, we'll have to be inside the town before then ... won't we?"
"Yeah, but why don't we do just the opposite ... like heading East in a car!" Sweeney suggested, then turning to Dickson, he asked, "Weren't you up for grand theft, auto?"
Ralph Dickson stirred uneasily. "Yeah, that's right
"So, if we locate a car ... you can hot-wire it for us, and we'll be on our way ... right."
"Yeah, I could do it ... but....."
"But, what...?"
"Hell ... if we get caught, that's another count good for another five years!" Dickson said fiercely.
"What's another felony, now?" Sweeny grunted. "We're all wanted for escape, right now ... and that's good for five to ten!"
Grayson had been thinking. His mind was changed, now. "I'm seeing it your way, now, Sweeney," he growled. "It'd be faster and safer to haul ass out of here in a car ... so that's what we'll do! Let's go find it!"
Ralph didn't like it, but he was outvoted. There was nothing he could do but go along with the plan. The thing that really bothered him the most was that Sweeney seemed to be taking over the leadership from Grayson. Damn it! I don't like it! I just don't like it!
Drifting like ghosts, the three men stalked the residential streets of Prado, the little town about three miles from the prison, which had lent its name to the institution. After about fifteen minutes of searching, they found it, a Buick Riviera, which the owner had carelessly left unlocked and parked in the driveway. In a little more than two minutes, Ralph had rewired it, bypassing the ignition lock to start the engine; then he backed it down the driveway to where Wright and Sweeney were keeping watch.
Grayson sat in the front seat with Dickson while Sweeney levered his bulk into the back. "Now, be damned sure that you drive within the speed limits! We don't want to be picked up ... just for speeding!" the fat queen growled.
"I know! I know!" Ralph replied, his voice surly.
As they drove away, Grayson looked back nervously to see that the car owner's house was ablaze with light and that a figure was just coming out the front door. "Christ!" he grated.
"The guy heard us!"
With fear-stricken eyes, Ralph looked back. "God damn it! We've got to get out of here!"
"No! Turn right at the corner and keep the same speed!" Sweeney bellowed.
Dickson's first impulse was squashed, and he found himself obeying the older convict's instructions. Then, he worked his way out to the secondary highway, heading North on it. Just as they gained the road, a Sheriffs patrol unit went roaring by in the opposite direction. The deputies paid no attention to them.
"Now, just hold it right on fifty-five!" Sweeney instructed. "We'll be on the San Bernardino Freeway, in just a little while."
Grayson thought about it, but decided to say nothing. Sweeney's taking over ... but the hell of it is he's been right! He could tolerate it, for a while ... but first chance I get, we'll unload him! Ralph, he sensed, had already had his belly full of the fat homosexual's imperious orders.
They crossed highway 60, and two or three miles beyond, took the on ramp leading down to Interstate 10, the San Bernardino Freeway, Eastbound.
Sweeney, lounging in the back seat comfortably, gloated, "I don't know what you two would've done without me along! The next thing we've got to do is get some threads ... and get rid of these prison clothes.
"What do you have in mind?" Grayson asked.
"Let's find a likely looking store ... and take them!"
"Isn't that pretty risky....."
"Yeah ... but where else am I going to find stuff that'll fit me?"
Following Jerry Sweeney's directions, they found a men's clothing store, broke into it and walked out with the clothing they needed, while a burglar alarm on the building rang futilely. As they drove away, he told them, "It'll be ten minutes before the fuzz get here ... and by then we'll be over in Colton!"
"Why?" Ralph queried. "Why don't we just head for Arizona?"
"They'll know we're headed East, now ... so we don't go East any farther," the fat man explained. "We'll make a stop in Colton to get some guns!"
"I've never packed a piece!" Grayson exploded. "Why the hell should I start now?"
In the back seat, Sweeney had stripped off his prison garb and was struggling into the new slacks, shirt and jacket, as he grunted, "You don't figure on going back ... without a fight do you?"
"I don't want to kill anybody ... and when you're carrying a gun ... you might be tempted to use it!"
"What in hell were you sent up for, Wright."
"I was a mule ... that's all ... and I got caught lugging a load of H."
"You use the stuff?"
"Never!" Grayson expostulated. "I was doing it for the money!"
"Well, suit yourself ... but I'm going to get a piece!" the fat man said. "We'll look for a pawn shop! They're bound to have some pistols."
Ralph Dickson agreed with Wright. He didn't want to have anything to do with guns either. They were parked on the street near the entrance to an alley, down which the fat convict had disappeared in search of a way into a small gunsmith's shop. Both men had now changed to comfortable, new clothing; the prison pants and shirts had been dumped into a handy garbage can.
"You know..." Grayson mused, "we ought to just take off and leave that son-of-a-bitch, right now! He's nothing but trouble!"
"That's a damned good idea!" Ralph growled. "I don't like the way he's taken over everything."
"Neither do I!"
"Then, why in hell'd you let him?" Dickson complained.
"He's been right up to now ... but I don't like this business of having guns, either!"
Reaching under the dash, Ralph twisted the wires together, which replaced the ignition key, then just as he touched the bare wires together to activate the starting motor, a Colton police unit pulled up behind the stolen Buick they were sitting in; it was almost five o'clock in the morning, already, and there were slight tinges of light telling of the coming day.
"Good morning, Sir." The young, unsmiling face of the policeman looked in through the driver's side at them. "May I ask what you're doing here...?"
"Certainly, Officer ... " Grayson offered, talking across Ralph, "we're waiting here for a friend, so we can get an early start for Santa Barbara ... a business deal..."
"...And, your names...?" A polite query.
"I-I'm Ralph ... Ralph Dawson..."
"...And I'm Jack Gray..."
"May I see your drivers licenses...?" the youthful patrolman asked.
"Of course ... officer..." Grayson's mind was working, trying to find an escape, for of course, neither carried any kind of identification.
"You drivers license, please!" This directed to Dickson, who sat behind the wheel.
"My ... wallet was stolen ... last night . '. . and I..." Ralph began.
"Well ... may I see the registration for this..." The young cop never finished. His eyes glazed and he sank from their sight to fall hard onto the pavement.
Sweeney stood there with the policeman's gun in his hand, a look of triumph and gloating on his face, again ... and Grayson found it hard to stop hearing the awful crunching sound of living bone as it was shattered. The fat man had, somehow, sneaked up behind the patrolman, jerked his service revolver from his holster and delivered a sharp, hard blow to the back of the man's neck.
Hauling his bulk into the back seat of the Buick, Sweeney barked, "Let's go ... but keep the speed down! Head out for Riverside!"
Dickson started the car and drove away, leaving the fallen law enforcement officer lying in the street.
Furious, Grayson Wright faced the fat man, who lounged at ease in the back seat. "You hit him hard enough to kill him ... and there was no God damned reason for it!"
"So what? What's one more dead pig?" Sweeney grinned. "If I hadn't seen you getting a shakedown ... you two would be back behind bars! I didn't know I'd have to wet-nurse you!"
"Okay ... so you got us out of a jam, but you're too damned ready to hurt somebody ... and I don't like it!" Grayson told him. "...And, when we get to the next town, we'll split up!"
"Oh, no we won't, Baby! I'm sticking with you ... whether you like it or not!" The muzzle of the service revolver, Sweeney still held in his hand swiveled around to point menacingly, swinging back and forth between the two men in the front seat.
"You wouldn't shoot!" Wright grated.
"Try me ... and see whether or not I would!" the fat queen lisped.
Grayson saw his finger whiten as it tightened on the trigger. "Okay ... have it your way!" he said and deliberately turned his back to face the front again.
"The next thing is to pick up some coins!" Sweeney told them. "We'll hit a service station!"
This wasn't the way Grayson had wanted to do it. Christ! All I wanted to do was get out of that lock-up ... get back to Los Angeles, with a new identity ... and just drop out of sight! It was true that he'd transported heroin ... but what he hadn't told the other two was that he was only doing it to earn money so that he could finish up his college work. It had been foolish. He knew that, now. The risk had been too great ... and when he'd been caught, arrested, tried and convicted, he couldn't believe what he heard, when the judge had intoned, two to five years in a State of California Correctional Facility. He had been sent to Prado, because he'd had no prior record. Then, the nightmare of marauding homosexuals had begun. He had fended them off successfully . . .too successfully. One of them had tried to force him, while he was taking a shower. The man had gone down like a pole-axed steer, when Grayson hit him ... then he had run for his life, escaping the converging gang of rapists. For striking the man, he had been isolated, a euphemism for solitary confinement.
"Fill the tank!" Ralph told the teen-age boy, who came out to service the car.
"Yes, sir!" The boy went about his work efficiently.
Ralph and Grayson remained inside the car. Neither had any stomach for what was going to happen next.
When the tank was filled, the oil and water checked and the windshields washed, the young man told Ralph, "That will be five dollars and twenty-three cents ... credit card or cash sir?"
Sweeney was standing there behind the boy, the .38 calibre Police Special in his pudgy hand boring into the small of his back. "It'll be cash! Give me everything you've got in the till!"
"Wh-What is ... this ... a-a hold up?"
"You guessed right, Sweetie! Now, hand it over!" Sweeney grated.
Terrified, the boy opened the cash box, took out all of the currency and handed it to the fat man. Sweeney looked at the bills and ground out, "How much is here?"
"About thirty-five dollars. M-my boss takes all the r-rest of it home with him ... and only leaves enough for ... ch-change..." the young service station attendant explained.
"Christ! Only thirty-five dollars!" the fat homosexual grunted; then, his eyes narrowed as he looked the boy over. "Hell ... I might as well make this worth-while!"
Suddenly, Grayson realized what the gross man was thinking. He jumped out of the car and growled, "Okay ... let's go! We've got the money!"
"Not yet! I'm going to take care of him."
"No you're not!"
"Why ... I'm only going to tie him up ... so he can't call the fuzz!" Sweeney answered with a pained innocent expression on his face.
Pressing the muzzle of the pistol against the boy's back, he ordered, "Into the rest room, Sweetheart!"
The boy's frightened eyes in a chalk-white face darted about futilely for some way to escape. Sweeney cocked the hand gun, the metallic clicks telling the young service station attendant that he had no other choice but to obey. With dragging steps he led the way around the metal building, past the grease racks, opened the door to the men's rest room and went inside followed by the leering Sweeney, his pants beginning to bulge under his paunch, as his penis came to full, hard erection with anticipation.
Helplessly, Grayson watched the rest room door close behind the bulky figure of the gay convict. He climbed back into his seat beside Ralph and said, "God damn it ... we both know what's going to happen in there!"
"Sure ... but what can we do about it? He's got that gun ... and he'd use it on us, too ... if we tried to jump him!"
"Yeah, I'm afraid he would..." Wright agreed. "The son-of-a-bitch!"
"Maybe we ought to split ... We won't get a better chance!" Ralph was already adjusting the wires and starting the engine of the stolen Buick.
"Okay! Let's go!"
A muffled, chilling scream of pain and terror came to them from the men's rest room. "Wait!" Grayson barked. He leaped from the car and raced toward the closed door. He was two steps away, when he heard the full-throated, barking report of the big .38 Police Special. God! He was too late!
Sweeney came out of the rest room, pulling up the zipper of his pants, the smoking pistol still grasped in his pudgy first. Grayson almost collided with him, as he came to a halt in front of the fat man. "You bastard!" Wright grated. "What did you do to ... that kid?"
"He wouldn't do it ... " Sweeney whined. "I begged him ... threatened him ... but he wouldn't suck me off!"
"...So you ... killed him...?" Grayson was sickened.
"Yeah ... I blew his brains out!"
"You son-of-a-bitch!" Wright made for the rest room to see for himself.
Sweeney jabbed the pistol toward him and grunted. "Let's go, Wright! He's dead ... believe me!"
Grayson stared at the muzzle of the pistol for an instant, considering his chances. The gay fat man waved him toward the car in the service station driveway. "...And, don't try anything ... or you'll get the same thing as the kid got!"
He's crazy! Kill crazy ... because he's got a gun in his hand! Knowing that the fat man was deadly dangerous, there was nothing for him to do but walk back to the car where Dickson waited. He got into the front seat, again, while Sweeney eased his bulk into the back. "Now ... we stick together, from now, on!" Sweeney told them. "...And, I call all the shots! Ease out of here and head out Highway 60 towards Beaumont!"
"God damn you! You fag! You've made us accessories to a murder ... and an assault!" Grayson choked.
"Not to mention two robberies and a car theft!" Sweeney said smugly. "Get going ... and stay within the speed limits!" He held the pistol lightly in his hand, adding, "Either of you try any tricks and they'll find you at the bottom of some canyon ... dead! Very dead!"
* * *
When Jack Howard and found Bruce Clark's cigarette lighter on the floor of the bedroom, his mind had turned over at full speed. He knew it was his comptroller's lighter, because he himself had given it to the tall redhead as a present, a token of his appreciation for work well done. As he examined it, he couldn't help wondering if his trust had been misplaced; then finally he decided upon a course of action. He merely dropped it to the top of the bedside table on Wanda's side of their big bed. She'll find it ... then she'll have to return it to him!
That's exactly what his wife did.
It was on Tuesday. Wanda Howard called Bruce Clark at work. They met for lunch; afterward, they left the restaurant together and checked into a motel. They were there for an hour and a half.
The private detective Jack had hired gave him a full report, and the electrical contractor paid the investigator's fee from his own personal account, writing out a check to cover the two days the man had worked for him. It was worth it, because Jack knew for sure, now, that Wanda was carrying on an affair with Clark. ... But, what beats me is ... that he's still going to get married at the end of this week! Maybe ... this thing the detective reported is the end of it between them, but the fact remains ... that they had been carrying on with each other ... for some time!
His imagination burned images into his brain as he visualized Wanda, lying on her back, on a bed, her legs spread wide obscenely, while Clark shoved his hard cock into the smooth, warm moistness of his wife's cunt. God! He was fairly popping with jealousy and desire for vengeance!
... But, Jack Howard was a careful man. He wasn't going to do something rash. Whatever he did do, though, would be clever. The lines from the Mikado drummed through his head, Gilbert's lyrics and Sullivan's music blending together into a new meaning for him. Christ! That's it! Just like the Lord High Executioner ... I'll make the punishment fit the crime!
On Wednesday morning, he went into Bruce Clark's office and tossed a set of keys onto the desk. Jovially, he told his wife's lover, "Bruce, I don't know what arrangements you've made for your honeymoon ... but there're the keys to my place up in Idyllwild. You're free to use it for as long as you like!"
Bruce was surprised and pleased. He looked up and grinned, explaining, "Well ... we've got reservations at Avalon ... and..."
"Hell! You can cancel out on that! This's on the house!" Jack urged. "You can go to Catalina on your first anniversary!"
"Debbie was kind of set on going to Avalon ... We're taking a boat over..." Bruce was a little uncertain. "I'll check with her on it ... okay...?"
"Sure, you do that Bruce ... and be sure to tell her there're no strings attached ... except maybe you ought to lug some groceries up with you. Anyway ... you'll have to eat ... to keep up your strength!" Jack quipped with a meaningful leer, refusing to take back the keys that Bruce held out to him, adding, "No, you keep them. You know where the cabin is . ... and it's all yours. Have fun!"
* * *
The reconciliation between Debbie Scott and Bruce Clark was effected easily, after he had called her late Monday afternoon. They went out to dinner, and Bruce was on his best behavior. He had even apologized to her, telling her he had lost his head with desire for her, that he loved her dearly ... and he'd been a damned fool for thinking that he could force her to a sexual encounter with him, before marriage.
Bruce would be a good husband. Debbie was sure of that, and she was willing to forgive him. She had made it clear, though, that there would be no more intimacy until their wedding night. Then, she promised him ... she'd really make the waiting for it worth while.
"Well ... okay, I guess I can live with that..." Bruce agreed reluctantly, "since it's only a few more days."
"Of course..." she smiled demurely, "I'll try to be a good wife to you ... from the first ... if you'll be gentle with me ... and teach me ... the right way..."
"Oh, sure, sure..." he agreed, knowing that she was, again, chiding him gently for what he had tried to do to her.
... And, so the wedding was on, again ... for Sunday afternoon. Debbie was happy, bubbling over with enthusiasm as she set about settling all of the final details, and she was walking on air, in the traditional way of all starry-eyed brides-to-be.
On Tuesday Wanda Howard had called Bruce at work. "Bruce, I've got to see you! Somehow, you forgot your cigarette lighter. I found it on the bedside table in the bedroom."
"Did Jack see it...?" Bruce asked worriedly.
"No ... I don't think so..."
"Why don't you just throw it away!? "
"No, Bruce . . .I don't want to do that ... because I need an excuse to see you ... again!" she told him breathlessly. "Why don't we have lunch together ... at that little place where we always ... used to meet..."
He knew instinctively what she really meant. "Okay ... I'll meet you there!"
He had been right, of course; it had been just as it always was with Wanda ... ecstatic and wild.
CHAPTER FIVE
The days passed slowly for Bruce Clark. Even after seeing Wanda Howard on Tuesday, eating lunch with her and afterward taking her to bed, he found himself fighting a battle within himself. On the one hand, he knew that he should break off his wild, sexual affair with his boss' wife, but on the other side of the argument, it seemed foolish to throw away a good thing ... and, it was good with Wanda. The hell of it is ... she doesn't want it to end! She just wants to keep me as a part of her stable of studs! That was the reality of it, and if he continued to see her, it would be on that basis; she'd made that perfectly clear. It was a dilemma he couldn't resolve ... at least for the time being.
Saturday night arrived and his best man threw a bachelor party for him. Clint Stowe had flown down from Seattle for the occasion, glad to be a part of his old college friend's wedding.
Jack Howard was invited to the party. After dinner, the hard drinking began. Deep in his cups, the electrical contractor drew his comptroller aside and with leering meaningfulness, asked, "Say, Bruce ... you getting a virgin there ... when you marry Debbie Scott...?" His words were slurred drunkenly.
"Yeah ... Why...?"
"It's the best way! I wasn't that lucky..."
"Oh ... ? "
"Wanda was a pretty wild one ... playing around with different guys ... before we got married..."
"Why're you telling me...?" Desperately, Bruce wanted to end the conversation. Looking at his empty glass, he said, "I'm ready for a refill." He started to get up.
Jack restrained him. "We've been married ten years ... and she promised me that she'd stop..."
"So...?" Bruce struggled to get out of his seat, finding himself swaying unsteadily.
"So ... I found out she never did stop! She's still playing around!"
"You wife's a beautiful woman..." Bruce said, as a rising apprehension cut through the alcoholic haze. God damn ... is he trying to tell me something? Did he find out about Wanda and me?
"Damned right, she's beautiful ... and so's that little gal you're marrying tomorrow!" Jack slurred. "So ... you want to be careful! A woman like that'll draw guys like bees to a honey pot!"
"Yeah ... I understand Jack," Bruce agreed. "I'll be careful..." He turned toward the bar in search of another drink, adding, "Thanks for the advice ... and also thanks in advance for the use of your place ... up at Idyllwild."
Jack Howard was pleased with himself, as he grinned drunkenly into his glass. That ought to make him wonder about how much I really know about him ... and Wanda!
* * *
Bruce tried to kid himself into believing that his shaky nervousness during the wedding ceremony was because of his hangover, but Clint, his best man, had seen to it that he was in good shape. Actually, he was just feeling the enormity of the step he was about to take. He equated it with the feeling a prisoner must have when the judge passes sentence upon him. Of course, he was not alone. Almost every man, who faces a full chapel, the waiting minister, listening to the measured beat of the organ music and watching his future wife come down the aisle, dressed in white, glowing with a beatific smile, has experienced that panicky desire to cut and run. He didn't run.
The wedding ceremony was carried out. He said the I do's woodenly, and he was going back down the aisle with Debbie, the words still racing through his mind, "I now pronounce you man and wife ... " Man and wife! Man and wife! MAN AND WIFE!
Debbie, of course, was on cloud nine, as she swept through the wedding ceremony, the reception afterward, comforting her mother whose tears flowed copiously, accepting the well-wishes of her friends and opening the many wedding presents. Everything had been beautiful, just as she had planned it, and she was happy.
Then, it was time to leave on their honeymoon, to be alone with her husband. She was looking forward to it with almost equal amounts of dread and anticipation, and her tension rose, bringing on a headache, which she tried to shrug off as just the aftermath of the built-up excitement for the wedding followed by a sort of let-down she experienced when she began to change out of her wedding gown into her going-away clothes. She tried telling herself over and over that there was nothing to worry about. Bruce promised that he'd be gentle and patient with me ... Somehow, there wasn't much conviction in it, because she couldn't help remembering the animalistic way he'd tried to force her to do it ... a week ago. God! He actually put the head of his ... thing ... in me...! He was like a wild man!
They were in Bruce's car, and as he whipped around the curves of the twisting road that climbed upward in switchbacks above the floor of the pass, he grinned over at her boyishly, with just the hint of a leer, his eyes sweeping over the curvaceous outlines of her body under the stylish suit she wore, her beautiful nylon-clad legs showing expansively below the mini-skirt.
Thinking aloud, almost, he said, "Well ... it won't be long now..."
Oh, God ... he's so right! Every mile of upward climb was bringing them closer to that time when they'd be in a bedroom together and he could claim his rights as a husband. ... And, he's driving so fast on this horrible road! Then, woman-like, for no apparent reason, tears brimmed her eyes, as she wished that somehow it could be postponed ... for just a little while longer.
He noticed her tears. "It's going to be all right, darling," he assured her. "I want this to be a happy day for you."
Wryly, she admitted, "I guess I'm just tensed up ... and this road kind of scares me."
"Is that really what you're afraid of...?"
"Partly..."
"Is the other part of it ... about sex...?"
"Yes ... in a way..."
"I'll try to keep from hurting you ... as much as I can." Bruce told her gently. "...But, there'll be some discomfort, you know..."
"I guess that's what I'm really afraid of, darling," she sniffed.
"...Yet, every bride has to go through that, doesn't she?"
"Yes ... that's right...."
She felt better about it, now that he had reassured her, again. Dabbing at her eyes, she smiled shyly at him and said, "I'm just being silly, I suppose. I'll be okay, now..."
Bruce slowed the car down a little; although, his own impulse was to get to the Howard's place as fast as he could and get his bride into bed. Damn! His desire was starting to build up inside him, and he could already feel his scrotum beginning to crawl and tighten, lifting his testicles, while his penis was hardening and coming to erection. By his own choice, he hadn't had sexual intercourse for four days ... not since he'd laid Wanda that last time on Tuesday afternoon. On Friday, he'd had trouble believing his own words when he'd turned Wanda down, refusing to meet her for a last time, Before he tied the knot ... as she put it.
"You're insatiable, Wanda."
"I told you I was, darling," his boss' wife trilled.
"The answer is still no!" he told her. "Later on, maybe ... if I find out Debbie isn't taking care of me right..." He had been careful, this time, not to close the door on his relationship with Wanda. It might come in really handy ... to be able to get a nice piece of ass ... when I need to!
Wanda hadn't answered right away, and he knew that she was disappointed. After a moment, she came back on the line brightly, "Okay, Bruce, darling ... I understand. You know how to get in touch with me..."
"Yeah, sure..."
"Congratulations, darling! I hope you'll be happy with her!"
"You don't really mean that..."
"Of course, I do!"
"Thank you, Wanda ... but why are you telling me, now?"
"I'm not coming to your wedding ... I don't think I could bear to sit through it!"
"I'll try to understand that ... but I suppose it's some woman-thing in you..."
"Yes ... that's it, and I can't explain it to you..." she choked. "Goodbye, darling..."
... Then, on Saturday, at his bachelor dinner, Jack had told him drunkenly that he knew Wanda was playing around, and he was doubly glad that he'd not accepted his boss' wife's suggestion of a last, fast lay. He needed the job, the adequate salary Jack Howard was paying him, now that he was taking on the responsibility of supporting a wife ... But, what about Wanda? Hell! I'll just have to wait and see ... There was something of a comfort in knowing that Wanda was available ... and willing, yet there was a doubt gnawing at him. It's sort of unfair to Debbie ... to start out our married life with me still carrying on an affair. . .
Driving slowly through the tiny village of Idyllwild, Bruce turned off on a side road and soon parked in front of the Howard's mountain cabin.
"Oh, it's beautiful!" Debbie enthused. "And the air up here smells so clean!"
"Yes ... it's nice!" He was fumbling in his pockets for the keys and feeling a rising excitement. Damn! He'd have to control himself. I promised Debbie I wouldn't come on too strong! Make it easy for her ... the first time. . .
Opening the door, then, he made a big thing out of sweeping his bride up into his muscular arms and carrying her across the threshold.
"My! You're so romantic ... Bruce, darling!"
"It's traditional, I guess ... maybe some kind of holdover from the days when wives were stolen," he commented.
He was still holding her aloft in his arms, and she kicked her feet wanting to be put down. He kissed her, instead, as he headed for the bedroom. "Aren't you going to put me down?" she asked.
"No ... I'm going to put you down on the bed ... and..."
"...And, what...?" Her eyes rounded and widened with apprehension.
"...Strip you naked!"
"Oh, please, darling ... you promised that you wouldn't hurry me!"
"That's right, I did ... but I can't wait!"
"You'll have to! Put me down!" Debbie demanded.
"Okay..." He decided to wait, go along with her wishes ... for a little while ... But she can't put me off for long! He lowered her to her feet, and she smoothed down her dress, modestly.
"Why don't you get the things out of the car, darling...?""
Dutifully, he trudged back and forth unloading the suitcases and bags of groceries from his car, resenting every moment of it, but trying to control his explosive, redhead's temper.
Debbie opened the refrigerator to put the food away and discovered a magnum of champagne, a gift from Jack and Wanda Howard. She showed it to Bruce.
With a pleased, broad smile, he took the big, two-quart bottle and examined it, seeing that it was from a good cellar and a good vintage year and knowing almost instinctively that it had been Wanda who had placed it there for them. He thought it a generous gesture on her part.
"This's great!" he chortled, remembering the rhyme, "Candy's dandy ... but liquor's quicker.. "
"Let's break out some glasses, honey ... and get started on this!"
Debbie was dubious. "I've never had champagne before..."
"Then, there's no better time than right now ... on your wedding day!" he countered.
"Will it get me drunk...?"
"No! I won't let you drink that much ... but it'll make you feel more relaxed."
His little leer gave her the clue to his purpose. "You mean ... it'll make me want to ... do it...?"
"You guessed right, Debbie, Baby! That it'll do!"
Quickly, he ripped off the seal and began to open the bottle carefully. Then, he poured the full glasses of the bubbly for them. Hoisting his glass, he toasted, "To my lovely bride!"
Debbie tasted and wrinkled her noise.
"It tickles..."
"You'll get used to that!" he told her, his eyes devouring her with wild desire. "Let's sit down on the couch ... and see what kind of a dent we can make in that magnum!"
CHAPTER SIX
"My nose feel like it's going to sleep ... and I've got this funny feeling in my legs ... " Debbie said, after her third glass of the bubbly wine. Her vision was blurred somewhat, and her tongue was thick in her mouth, causing her speech to be slightly slurred.
Bruce got up and turned on the stereo radio to a sweet-sounding FM station. "A little music ought to go good..." he told her, as he returned to sit beside her on the couch, not knowing how much longer he could hold out against his rising passion for his new wife. He sure as hell wasn't used to playing this kind of waiting game. Wanda, he decided, had sort of spoiled him with her uninhibited readiness for a rollicking sex party at almost any time.
"Oh, that's soooo nice!" she cooed, listening to the smooth, sentimental music coming from the speakers; then she arose and moving in a world of her own began to shuffle her feet to the slow, steady beat and the wail of a mournful trumpet.
Now's the time! Bruce moved in behind his bride, his arms going around her waist, as his hands reached up in front of her to cup the full mounds of her breasts through the cloth of her clothing. "God ... you're lovely, darling!" he whispered into her ear, while at the same time, he ground the hard bulge of his erect penis into the small of her back.
Debbie swallowed tightly, knowing that she couldn't delay any longer. His fingers digging into the softness of her smooth white breasts through the layers of her clothing seemed to be burning holes into her, and she felt the lengthening and hardening of her nipples inside her bra, while below, where the warm hardness of his penis pressed into her back she could feel its involuntary lurching expansion, like a caged animal seeking its escape. Oh God! She was coming closer and closer to the moment of truth, when his massive hardened maleness would batter its way stiffly into her never-before-used vaginal passage. She had to steel herself to keep from bolting. A long, shuddering moan came from her lips.
Abruptly, then, Bruce turned her to face him, drawing her tight into the circle of his arms and pressing her body close to his, his lips mashing down tight on her soft ones with smothering savagery. His warm, wet tongue slid sinuously into her mouth to search probingly, tasting the sweet-sour of her wine-drenched breath, as his hands slid smoothingly down the trembling curve of her back to clutch at her rounded buttocks, pulling her loins in hard and tight to his own grinding pelvis, until she could feel the hot hard bulge of his erection.
Drawing back his head after a few moments, her husband looked down into her face with lewd salaciousness, as he detected the tiniest undulation of her hips against him. The champagne was loosening her up ... and it'd be just a few more minutes until he'd have her flat on her back with his aching cock buried in her tight virgin's cunt!
"Come on ... let's go into the bedroom!" he murmured, his voice urgent even as he tried to be matter-of-fact and nonchalant.
None too gently, he grasped her arm and led her toward the bedroom door. Almost like a sleepwalker, she went along with him, until they reached the door; then, a shudder passed through her body, spasmodically, all of her built-up tension seeming to knot tightly in the pit of her stomach. She was going into that room for only one purpose ... to become in fact Bruce Clark's wife ... and she had to give herself ... all of her, to him willingly.
She stopped dead in her tracks, standing in the bedroom door, looking at the soft bed where she was about to face an unknown terror, a totally new experience, and she couldn't move another step.
"There's nothing to worry about, Debbie," he encouraged. "I'll try not ... to hurt you ... too much..."
Somehow, he seemed to be qualifying it. "Oh, Bruce ... I'm scared ... really scared!"
"I'll help you. All you have to do is relax ... and enjoy it!" he whispered, drawing her into the bedroom and sitting her down on the edge of it. "Maybe it'd help if you finished your last glass of champagne."
She shook her head affirming it, and he went off to the living room where he freshened both their glasses and brought them back to the bedroom. Debbie accepted her glass greedily and gulped almost half of it down, wanting to be numbed ... wanting a euphoria in which she would not have to think.
"Take it easy..." Bruce warned amiably. "It'll snap back at you; especially if you're not used to drinking."
"I'm beginning to see double ... and I'm getting dizzy," Debbie giggled, looking up at him over her glass. "Does that mean I'm getting drunk...?"
"It sounds like you've had enough!" he told her firmly, taking the glass from her hand and putting it aside on the dresser.
Then, as she watched, he took off his jacket, tie, shirt and undershirt, stripping himself to the waist to expose the lithe muscularity of his trim body, and spellbound, she couldn't take her eyes off the enormous bulge caused by his desire-stiffened penis that strained against the cloth of his trousers. Strangely, through the buzzing in her head, she was fascinated now by it, as she saw it lurch involuntarily, and she began to feel a warm glow suffusing through her belly that was more than the warming effect of the alcohol.
"Do you want me to undress you, darling...?" Bruce asked coming toward her.
Recklessly, she made her decision. If she were going to go through with it, she'd do it herself, strip her body naked and offer it to her husband almost like a sacrifice, the soft bed becoming in her alcohol-hazed mind the altar upon which she would be stabbed ... the blood drawn. She shook her head in negative answer to his question, rose and walked to the other side of the bed on rubbery, unsteady legs, vowing to herself that everything she did from this point on would be without thinking. She would just let nature take its course.
Reaching up behind her after she'd removed her chic jacket, she found and lowered the zipper of her dress and slipped it off, the full-length mirror on the closet door revealing her standing there in her slip, while lounging behind her, tall and athletic, her husband's reflection showed him watching her with hungry, salacious eyes, which seemed to bore right through her. He had looked at her like that, before, and sub-consciously she tried to blot out his presence for the time being, going on with her undressing as though she were in her own apartment, alone, getting ready for bed.
With resolute determination, she pulled her slip off over her head, then reached behind to unfasten her lacy, diaphanous brassiere, slipping it off and adding it to the careless pile of her clothing on the slipper chair. She felt the cool air of the bedroom wash over the twin mounds of her milk-white breasts and saw in the mirror that her nipples were distended, pointing upward slightly, with the aureolas drawn up tight and wrinkled at their bases. Unconsciously, she cupped them up in her tiny hands, and her fingers rolled the tiny, spiked-out buds caressingly.
In the mirror, she saw her husband coming in close behind her, and with a little, desperate cry and a vigorous shake of her head, warned him off before he could touch her, "No ... please, I have to ... do it ... myself!"
Then, she unfastened her lacy garter belt, took it off and rolled her nylons down over the silky, smooth flesh of her legs, bending over slightly and becoming only too aware of her new husband's closeness behind her. Her back was still to him; only her wispy, white nylon panties remained. Biting her lip with determination, she hooked her fingers in the narrow panty waistband and rolled them down over the rounded fullness of her hips and buttocks. Stepping clear of them was the final act of her divestment and like a vestal virgin of ancient Rome she faced her expulsion from the sacred sisterhood in taking to herself a husband.
As she straightened up, Debbie gasped moaningly. Bruce was there, standing before her, naked also, his hardened and throbbing penis lancing out toward her lustfully, shattering the temporary mental wall she had erected to shield her from the reality of what was going to happen. Her eyes were drawn to the massive stiffness of it as though it were a strong magnet, and she saw that its head, the foreskin retracted, shone a reddish purple, almost velvet-like, and a tiny tear of moisture wept from the slit in its tip. Oh, God! It's so huge! It ll rip me apart! In the week since Bruce had tried to force her to do it she had forgotten how terrifying it had been, and now a measure of that same fear coursed through her ... even though the situation was different: Last week it had been taboo, in her estimation; now she had to do it ... was expected to do it!
... Then, her husband Bruce moved in close, his arms circling her, and she felt herself being pulled in tight to his nakedness, as below the throbbing monster was trapped between the crushing flesh of their bellies; above, her aching breasts were mashed flat against his muscular chest, and he was kissing her, again, his tongue stabbing deep into her mouth and throat, while guttural, animalistic sounds came from deep in his chest. His hands swarmed over her body, smoothing and massaging caressingly, exploring all the curves and mounds, his fingers digging and pinching at the satin-skinned delights of her body ... and all the while he was moving her toward the bed, where he was going to make her his wife ... consummate his marriage by ending her state of virginity. He had waited too long already!
Desperately, she twisted her mouth aside to break his avid kiss and groaned, "Donf ... Bruce! Not yet...? ! "
Instant anger arrowed through him. Gritting his teeth he growled. "God damn! That's the last thing I expected to hear from you ... today, you little bitch! I'm you husband, now ... remember? ... And, I'm going to fuck you ... because I've got the right to do it! It's part of being married ... understand?"
"Oh, God!" she wailed, trying to push him away from her.
"No more stalling, Baby! This is it!"
Her husband pushed her back flat on the bed, and as he came down on her with his full weight his ramrod hard cock came in between her clamped together thighs, the pulsing head of it insinuated partially between the fleshy lips of her cringing pussy, sparsely covered with the golden down of her pubic hair.
"I'm not ... ready, yet!"
"Well, I am ... and you're going to get fucked, now!" he roared. "I'm tired of playing games with you! You're my wife ... and you can start acting like a wife!"
Debbie winced at his use of the foul, four-letter obscenities, he was using ... and it was turning into the living nightmare she had experienced a week ago. God! He was just going to go ahead and do it ... shove his enormously hard penis in her ... and ... just do it to me! He was kissing her, again, and she rolled her head frantically to keep him from it, while at the same time she writhed desperately to escape his pinning body. With one strong-fingered hand he held her face, as his tongue again plundered her mouth; the other hand was busy crushing a tender breast, his thumb and forefinger rolling the erect nipple tauntingly.
"Oh, please . . , ;? " she whined up into his mouth.
He hadn't wanted it to be this way. ... But, damn it ... I've waited too long ... while she was stalling! He turned a deaf ear to her pleas, broke the moist kiss and leaned above her to reach down and spread her tremblingly resisting legs apart.
Struggling against him was futile; it was also ridiculous, she knew, in the back of her mind, to resist his attempts to claim his bridegroom's rights ... but she did, even though he was too strong for her. His fingers dug cruelly into the tender, white flesh above her knees, as he forced her thighs apart, splaying them wide open, until he could wedge his slim hips solidly between them. Animal sounds came from his throat as he wrestled her to submission, and she found herself doing the same thing, writhing, twisting and bucking under him in her desperate and mindless attempts to escape her inevitable impalement by his long and thick, lust-swollen penis.
Suddenly, she knew it was useless. With a heart-rending moan of defeat she lay still under him, her eyes closed, salty tears running in two, tiny streams down her cheeks and her chest heaving with the physical exertion of her resistance, which made the twin mounds of her luscious breasts dance prettily above her.
"That's more like it!" she heard him grunt, while below she felt him spreading the tender lips of her vaginal opening with the blood-engorged head of his cock. She wanted to scream as she felt it splay the moist, coral-pink flesh of her cunt, nestling into position right before the virginal tenderness of her vaginal passage; then, feeling the pressure he exerted against the tight, elastic opening, her eyes flew open to stare, tear-dimmed up into her husband's lust-contorted face.
' ' Oh , God! My dear God ! OOOooohhh ... OOOOOOoooohhh!" Debbie Clark whimpered, as she felt him pressing forward, slowly, with increasing force, until she could feel the bloated head of his lust-incited cock go into her a fraction of an inch, stretching her cuntal opening, the tight, elastic flesh giving way before his cruel assault ... and she knew that the time had arrived, the time when she would pass from that prized state of maidenhood to the condition of wife, a married woman. ... But, God! I'm still not ready ... for it! Instinctively, she knew that her vaginal passage was dry and unready, and that his battering entrance was going to be painful. Again, she whined, "Dear God ... Bruce, darling! Not yet!"
Above her, her husband's face leered down at her with lewd desire. "No! Baby! It's got to be now! I can't wait ... any longer! I've got to fuck you ... right now!" Little droplets of perspiration appeared on his brow as he shoved harder and yet harder, trying to force the massive thickness of his bulbous cock-head through the stoutly resisting hymenal ring just inside the mouth of her cuntal passage.
It hurt. She groaned aloud with fear and apprehension, in the full knowledge that the initial pain would be nothing compared to what it would be when he thrust deeply into her. She felt his hips lift slightly above her, saw the lustful determination in his face, as his lithe, muscular body gathered for a final all-out assault, and automatically she reached down with both desperate hands to grab at him and hold him back, but it was a futile gesture.
Her husband plunged, thrusting into her hard. She felt the tender flesh tear, and the pain was almost unbearable. A long, terrified scream came gurgling from her lips, as the blunt, blood-filled head of his cock burst through the barrier of her maidenhead and soared deep up into the virginal depths of her defenseless cunt like an impaling stake. There was a great roaring in her ears, her vision dimmed ... and just before she lost consciousness, she imagined that she was being executed by an ancient, cruel method, her legs spread, stout ropes attached to them and hence to two teams of horses, who upon command jerked her forward upon the huge sharpened stake, which penetrated her body, up through her belly to stab deep into her heart ... She knew that she must have died, but she only fainted...
* * *
When Debbie opened her eyes again, there was a tight knot of temporary nausea in her belly. Bruce lay quietly between her obscenely spread thighs, and she felt like she was burning, deep up inside her, the searing sensation seeming to diffuse through her from her knees to the tender mounds of her breasts, squashed under his weight. She squirmed her body around under him, wanting to escape what was coming, and as she moved, she became dimly aware that her husband's penis was still buried deep up in her vaginal passage. Only ... it doesn't feel as big , . . and hard!
His cock was softening. That meant ... God! She knew, then! He had gone ahead and done it to her while she was unconscious! His sperm was deep inside her gathering in a pool near the neck of her womb ... and she hadn't known that he was doing it!
Quick, explosive anger flared in her eyes as she spat up into his face, "My God, Bruce ... you went ahead ... and ... and did it to me ... while I was out. ... ! "
Sheepishly, he looked away as he murmured, "Yeah ... I'm afraid so ... but I couldn't help it!"
Loathing for what he'd done surged through her and distorted her beautiful face. "How could you...?" she wailed. "How could you do something ... like that...?"
"I'm sorry, darling..." Bruce apologized. "I'll make it up to you, later. Really make it something great for you..."
"Don't touch me!" she flared. "Don't touch me ... again!"
"Now look, Baby! You lost your cherry ... and you fainted. That's happened before ... but you're my wife, now. Just remember that ... because when I want a piece of ass I want it ... right then! ... And, you're going to cooperate ... otherwise we'll call it quits ... before we ever get started.
"What do you ... mean...?"
"I'll get an annulment!" he threatened.
"No! You ... You wouldn't...?" Disbelief spread across her face. "Even ... after what you just did...?"
"Sure! Incompatibility and refusing to co-habit ... both of those could be made to stick!" he growled.
She said nothing, only turned her face away from him as a new freshet of tears flowed from her eyes. There was nothing she could do, now. She'd just have to let him have his way ... or she'd lose him, even before her marriage was a day old.
His hands were on the pliant, full flesh of her breasts, again, clutching and manipulating, rolling the distending nipples between his fingers, his mouth following after a few moments to suck and nibble. OOoohh! It felt so good. His mouth and tongue on her breasts seemed like a vortex, drawing her down into it, as delightful sensations began to charge through her body. She couldn't ignore them; they seemed to concentrate there, below, in her loins, as wild, little flurries of lustful excitement flitted through her belly. Surprisingly, she began to writhe in undulant circles under him, and she felt the growing expansion of his penis still buried in her vagina between her helpless thighs.
"Are you going to ... do it to me ... again...?" she faltered.
"Hell yes, I am! Only this time, I'll make sure that you have an orgasm!" Her husband promised.
"I thought maybe you'd had enough rape ... for tonight?" she threw out at him caustically.
"No! No more rape!" he chuckled. "Just plain fucking!"
"Why do you have to be so foul-mouthed?"
"They're just sex words..." he told her, "and you might as well get used to hearing them ... and using them, yourself!"
"Never!" She was stubbornly adamant.
"You will! You will!" her husband assured her, as he slipped a hand down between them to fondle the open lips of her cunt around the hardened shaft of his lust-expanding cock. Then, he trailed a finger up to taunt her tautly erect clitoris, grazing over it lightly. He was rewarded as he felt her body spasm with overpowering paroxysms of sensations that rippled through her.
"Oh ... oohh ... ooooohhhh!" his wife moaned uncontrollably.
"This time you'll climb the walls!" he chortled.
"Why do you have to keep tormenting me?" she groaned.
"Hell! I'm not tormenting you! I'm only trying to stimulate you ... get you ready, so you'll really enjoy it!"
"I don't think I'll ever ... like it!" she shot back, while at the same time her hips began to undulate up against his teasing finger on her sensitive clitoris. She felt his massively thick length grinding deep up into her once more, the shaft of his cock feeling like an unpeeled log as it moved in the tender, abused sheath of her pussy. God! I feel all raw up inside ... and there must have been some bleeding ... when he broke through...!
"Then, we'll do it a different way!"
He lifted his weight from her, and she struggled to sit up. Before she knew what was happening, he had turned her, flipping her body over completely, until she was prone, her face being mashed down into the soft mattress, as he came down on top of her, effectively pinning her helplessly under his greater weight.
"Damn you!" she grated, her voice muffled by the mattress in her spread-eagle position. "What are you trying to do to me?"
Her husband's still growing erection was being insinuated down between her buttocks to lie long and throbbing against the tender moistness of her female's slit, his belly coming down into the hollow of her back, and she found that she was helpless to move ... barely able to breathe.
Avidly, his hands went under her, pressing into the mattress on either side, as he sought her flattened breasts, cupping them up into his hands and beginning his squeezing, massaging caress of them; at the same time, she felt him rocking above her as he lay flat on top of her, the hard shaft of his pulsing cock squirming back and forth rhythmically in the tight warm crevice of her soft, quivering buttocks. Then, as he sawed deeper along her stimulated cuntal slit, the head of his cock began contacting and tugging teasingly at her clitoris. She couldn't help the shudder of intense rapture that spasmed in her body. Oh! What he's doing to me ... now! It was something she should have been feeling all along!
God! Why was she fighting it!? Anyway, there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn't stop him ... but now, she didn't want it to stop!
"It's starting to feel good, now ... isn't it?" he murmured into her ear.
"Yes ... yes, it is," she admitted, "but you're squashing me! I can hardly breathe..."
"Are you going to calm down ... and start enjoying it?"
"Yes..." Debbie whispered. "I'll. ... try..."
"Good!"
He rolled from on top of her to his side, still clinging to her breasts and turning her to her side inside his arms, he snuggled in close to her, as he drew up his legs to cup her to him, spoon-fashion; then, with his uppermost hand, he reached down between them to re-position his now fully erect and throbbing penis up between her thighs, placing it at the open lips of her moistly ready pussy. With a deep thrust, he drove the massive length and thickness of his blood-engorged shaft deep up into her slowly moistening cuntal passage.
She was surprised. It had gone into her so easily, and except for a searing burning sensation there was no real pain. The bristly red hair of his pelvis pressed in tight to the soft, smooth flesh of her buttocks ... and then, deep up inside her she felt it expand against the tender walls of her vaginal lining. OOOOooohhh! It felt ecstatically delightful! A sigh, changing to a mewling moan of sexual arousal escaped her lips.
"Did you like that...?" Bruce hissed into her ear.
"OOoohh, yes!"
"It'll feel even better ... if you try to squeeze your cunt muscles around my cock..." he suggested.
"It will...?"
"Sure! Try it ... like you were pushing down hard."
Her husband's face was buried in her honey-blonde hair, and he was nibbling at her neck, while his hands massaged and kneaded her aching breasts gently, his fingers rolling the spiky nipples. Sensation after sensation chased wantonly through her naked belly, and somehow, she even ignored his foul words, as with knitted brow, she concentrated on finding the right muscles. Finally, she did it. She felt the clinging walls of her cuntal sheath clasp the erect shaft of his cock, squeezing it weakly. Oh, God ... I did it ... and it does feel good!
"That's it!" her husband encouraged. "I felt it squeeze the whole length of my cock!"
"It's hard to do..." she complained.
"It'll take lots of practice..."
Again and again, she felt the pulsing expansion of her husband's thickly throbbing cock buried deep in her now sensation-filled cuntal passage, and she tried to match him, squeezing at the same time as he flexed it inside her. Tingling ripples of exciting sensation raced through her body, and she shivered as his deft fingers caressed and stimulated her breasts. Then, he was using his hand, again, to draw her soft, trembling buttocks back tighter against his loins to insinuate his aching shaft deeper yet into her pussy's fleshy softness.
Relaxing a little now, Debbie let her buttocks go back against him to absorb even more of his lust-thickened length up into her vagina, drawing her own knees up toward her chest. The horror and fear of his first entrance into her had faded into the back of her mind. There was only a slight rawness to remind her of it, and now she was beginning to realize that maybe just maybe she could respond, get something out of it. Could she? God! She hoped so! Was it too much to hope ... that she could come to orgasm?
Then, she felt Brace's hand slide down over the warm, white flesh of her flat belly to the mounded gold of her pubic triangle, his hand rummaging caressingly there for a moment before his finger parted her silky, hair-lined pussy and slid down into the pink, moist slit to tease at the hardened bud of her clitoris.
Erotic spasms were set off in her like bursting Roman candles, and her buttocks jerked back against him undulantly, causing her to slide up and down the rock-hard shaft of his cock slightly at the same time. Her breath was becoming uncontrollable, coming in short, panting gulps.
"That feels even better, doesn't it...?" he asked. "Makes you want to fuck ... like a little cat!"
A tremor passed through her body, pregnant with excitement. It was exactly what she had been thinking ... trying to imagine the way it would be, as she accepted his pounding cock, willingly ... how it would be when she convulsed in a final rapture of release under him.
Now his fingers were stroking the clinging lips of her cunt stretched tightly around the girth of his throbbing cock buried in her, the tip of his middle finger slipping in beside his deeply inserted shaft to run in a reaming circle, stretching her vaginal opening even more. She was expectant, now ... wanting him to begin the thrusting movements of sexual intercourse. God! Why is he making me wait...? Her hips plunged back against him gyratingly, in an attempt to show him, mutely, what it was she wanted.
"What's the matter, Baby...?" he queried, a satisfied grin splitting his face. "Something bothering you?"
"Oh, God, darling ... I can't help it!" his wife choked. "I feel like I have to have it, now! like I want you to do it to me!"
"Do what?" he chortled.
"You know...! "
"No ... not unless you tell me!" Bruce insisted.
"I am telling you..."
"No you're not! If you want me to fuck you ... just say it."
"I can't say that!"
"Yes you can ... if you want it bad enough. Just say, 'Fuck me!' "
"Oh, Bruce...! " she whined.
"Please ... don't make me say things like that!? "
"I told you, you'd have to learn them!" he hissed, as his hands dug into her breasts painfully. "Say it!"
She felt him move back away from her partially withdrawing some of the massive length of his cock's shaft. Desperately, she followed to recapture it, feeling it soar deep up into her cock-hungry cuntal passage, as her hips rammed back against his loins. ... Then, she groaned. "OOOOoooohhh, God, darling ... don't torment me ... like this!"
"Say it ... God damn it!" he roared. "Tell me that you want me to fuck you ... that you want my big, hard cock ... fucking you half silly ... hard ... long ... deep!"
Against her will ... against everything she had learned, she found herself murmuring, "Fuck ... me ... darling! Fuck me!"
"How?"
"Hard!"
"...And, deep...?"
"Yes! Hard and deep ... and long!"
"With what ... damn it?"
"Your ... c-cock!"
"Where?"
"In my ... cunt!"
The vile words she was forced to say ricocheted around inside her skull. Never had she thought them or used them ... but now: Cock! Cunt! Fuck! She had said them ... thought them! The litany was hers now. She had learned it well! "Oh, God! Just ... fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" she begged shamelessly.
With long, vigorous strokes, then, he began to move in her with slow deliberation, fucking in and out of her cunt, which was more than adequately lubricated, her exuding cuntal fluids mixing with the wetness of his first ejaculation in her ... while she was unconscious. She was thankful for it; the rawness was still there, but the burning sensation was tolerable. The sexual feeling seemed to blot out all else.
God! It actually began to feel good and more desirable every moment, as her husband began to lengthen his stroke and quicken the tempo of his soaring, fucking cock, and its bloated head buried itself deeper and deeper up into her tremblingly vibrant belly.
... But then, as before, he could wait no longer; suddenly, he was seized by a paroxysm of lustful desire. His breath came in furious gusts of panting and he speared into her with savage determination, until still lying on his side behind her he was fairly battering and goring her, his massively hardened cock plunging cruelly into her cuntal sheath, pushing waves of tender, warmly moist flesh ahead of its bulbous tip, his pelvis smacking up hard and tight into her soft, fear-clenching buttocks. His steel-fingered hands grasped her hips and held her tight and immobile as he plundered her with senseless, wild abandon.
"Oh ... Oh ... OOOooohhh!" Debbie groaned with every slamming, piston-like stroke. "It's hurting me!" Oh, My God! My God! She could do nothing but squirm helplessly as he jackhammered into her, his strong, muscular body hot and tight against her and his breath coming in raspy blasts of warm air on the soft, velvety skin of her shoulders and the back of her neck.
"Christ!" he blurted. "I've got to get it in ... deeper!"
Suddenly, before she realized what was happening, her husband had rolled her over to her belly, his legs between her own, and he was hauling her backward up onto her knees, clinging savagely to her hips, his fingers gouging in bruisingly, as he levered her into the animal-rut position before him. His knees slid inside her own, splaying her thighs wide apart, as she rested on her hands and knees like a brood mare in heat.
Shame and humiliation flooded through her instantly, when she realized that he was going to continue their copulation in this degrading position. She remembered how ashamed she had been to witness a bull servicing one of her uncle's milk cows ... that time when they had driven out from Des Moines to visit his farm. I must have been twelve or thirteen ... just beginning to mature a little ... She hadn't wanted to watch ... yet she couldn't help being fascinated by the spectacle! Yes! It was a spectacle! The bull's penis was unbelievably huge!
Perhaps that's why she felt so degraded. She was being fucked ... serviced . . .just like one of her uncle's cows.
"Let's do it ... the right way, Bruce darling...? ! " she pleaded.
"There's no right way ... or wrong way!" he grunted.
Anger, fed by her humiliation, raged stormily in her, and she tried to pull away from him, straining forward on hands and knees to escape his rutting cock that was plunging furiously into her trembling vagina from the back; however, her husband would have none of that. He reached forward with both hands gripping her by the shoulders to pull her forcefully back tight against him, flattening her softly upraised buttocks against his pelvis with a solid, resounding smack of flesh on flesh and his balls, swinging heavily below, slapped hard into the spread out, golden, hair-lined lips of her widely stretched cunt.
Her moans of pain and humiliated outrage went unheeded, as he thrust with animal-like urgency into her, his thickly hardened cock going into her to its full length, deep in her nakedly quivering belly, and she could feel the smooth rubberiness of his swollen cock's head as it flicked back and forth against the neck of her womb, deep inside the clinging warmth of her cuntal passage. Now, he was pressing her thighs even wider apart, and he brought his hands back to the smooth whiteness of her nipped-in waist, holding her in a vise-like grip, as he began to haul her back and forth in a countering, fucking-back motion against the lewdly plundering shaft of his lust-incited cock.
He was filling her vaginal depths completely and stretching the tender flesh of her cunt's mouth cruelly. My God! His cock is ... going to split me in two! She surprised herself. OOooh ... I actually thought that word!
... But then, the pain began to lessen, and she felt the clinging flesh of her soft, tender passage aglow with arcing electricity of ecstatic desire. It displaced all else, and suddenly, she felt as though her whole being, her very existence, was concentrated there below in the sensations being generated in her cunt. She was nothing but cunt. Cunt was everything, completed now, made whole again by his thundering, complementary cock. Cock and cunt! I'm Cunt! He's Cock! ... And she was being fucked like a bitch in heat. Suddenly it didn't make any difference. It was all she wanted ... all she would ever want! God! His cock's getting bigger and bigger ... up inside my cunt! It feels like he's filling my whole belly with it ... almost like it's going to choke me!
With detached amazement, she found herself moving her hips rhythmically back against her husband's cunt-stretching cock, gyrating her hips in lewd, undulant circles voluntarily, in total abandon, giving herself entirely to the obscene fucking from behind that she was getting from her darling Bruce, and her erotic desires mounted within her uncontrollably.
Turning her face back toward her husband, she groaned, "Fuck hard ... Bruce! Oh, God ... fuck me ... hard!"
Her husband saw her passion contorted face, heard her lewd urging and felt the urgency of her loins fucking back at him, and he went absolutely wild with elation and his own growing rapture. Damn! She's hot! ... And fucking back like a minx!
Deep in her quivering white belly, he could feel his heated cock expanding and growing ever thicker and longer, as he jackhammered into her with erotic delight. His lust-swollen penis ached, and back there, somewhere behind the root of it, he could feel the searing burn of his sperm demanding its moment of spurting freedom. He was almost there, ready to cum spewingly ... and it was getting closer and closer. God! By the way his wife's clasping cunt was swaying and dancing grindingly on the end of his skewering cock, he was sure that she, too ... was ready to cum . . .and it'll be her first one! It excited him ... knowing that he had been successful in bringing her to climax on their wedding night. Hell! Some brides never make it until months ... or years after they're married!
Debbie was like one cast into a spell. Things were happening in her, delicious, rapturous things that she had never before known were possible, and she savored them, treasuring them in her memory. It was all so beautiful. Her husband's massive cock, fucking into her now hungrily sucking cunt, was beautiful. The whole world and everything in it was a kaleidoscope of transcendental beauty. Fucking was the most beautiful thing in her world. There was nothing with which to compare it. It was the epitome of all beautiful things!
Suddenly, her belly seemed to explode in one great moment of ecstasy ... and she screamed full-throatedly, knowing that she was cumming ... reaching for her long-awaited climax, the peak of human experience, for the first time.
" A A A A A AAaaaaaaaUUUUUuuuuuggghhh!"
She convulsed spasmodically, the release spreading through her entire body, exhausted from sheer relief, in one series after another of shuddering tremblings accompanied by mewling gasps of sheer pleasure. She just wanted to collapse onto the top of the bed, allowing herself to sink into its softness and giving herself over completely to a welcome euphoria, but her husband held her tight with insanely clutching hands, as he pistoned in and out of her wildly clasping cunt. She felt her thighs and buttocks splayed wide apart in one last flesh-slapping, cunt-splitting assault, as he strained to shove his cock into her as far as he could bury it. ... Then, he was cumming! She could feel the jerking expansion of his cock's shaft as it spurted his hot white sperm deep up inside her, an unearthly, animal-like wail emitting from deep in his throat. "AAaaaauuugggh! Christ!"
His load of semen was filling her vaginal passage. She could feel it splashing with jet-like force into the clinging sheath of her cunt that clasped him tightly to her. After several convulsive jerks of his pelvis against the softly rounded cheeks of her buttocks, he held himself rigid, keeping his pumping cock buried deep in her cuntal passage as the last drops of his life-liquid was emptied from him. Slowly, his brutally clenched hands relaxed on her waist, and he slithered back and away from her, his softening penis pulling out of her sperm-filled cunt with a lewdly moist sucking sound.
Collapsing forward, Debbie lay face downward, quiet and unmoving, profoundly moved by her first real orgasm, and she wondered at its magic transformation of her, from naive girl to fully aroused woman.
"Well...?" her husband gasped after a few moments. "How did you like it...?"
"I-I loved every minute of it ... and it was simply out of this world!" she told him honestly.
"...And, did you love every inch of it, too...?"
"Every inch!" she agreed. "Every hard inch...! "
Later, she prepared sandwiches for their belated dinner. They washed them down with the rest of the magnum of champagne.
... And later still, with the exuberance of youth, Bruce took his bride to bed and fucked her again, bringing her once more to a soaring pinnacle of climactic release.
"I love you, Debbie Baby!"
"...And, I love you, darling!" she told her husband, Bruce Clark. "Love you more than anything in the world!"
Exhausted and happy, they slept until almost eight o'clock awakened by her hand caressing the thick length of his hardened penis. "Will you fuck me ... again, darling...?" she whispered.
He was instantly fully awake. "Will I...?" he choked. "Wild horses couldn't keep me from it!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Before leaving town, Jerry Sweeney ordered Ralph Dickson to pull into the parking lot of a popular chain restaurant.
"I've got to get something to eat," he growled.
Grayson Wright watched the fat convict wolf down griddle cakes, sausage and eggs, washed down with copious amounts of coffee. His hate and disgust for the man ate like acid into him, as he wondered how the hell Sweeney could be so calm after having killed that young service station attendant just minutes before. He had no appetite for his own food. His stomach was churning around too much, threatening to become upset and nauseous. Ralph, he noticed, was just staring into his coffee cup. They'd had no chance to talk to each other privately, but he was certain the younger man felt as he did about the bizarre turn of events.
"Ah, that really hit the spot!" Jerry said expansively, pushing his plate away finally. "It'll help me keep up my strength."
"It'll keep your weight up, too!" Grayson cracked without a trace of a smile.
Sweeney patted his paunch. "I've always had a good appetite..."
"Yeah ... strange appetite!" Ralph Dickson remarked.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sweeney glowered, color rising up into his face.
"You know damned well what I mean!"
"Like ... I happen to prefer boys instead of women...?"
"Yeah ... among other things..."
Grayson jumped in, then, "What beats me is why you'd want to be on the outside ... when guys like you have got a field day on the inside...?"
"Hell, I wasn't always like I am!" Sweeney said heatedly, trying to keep his voice down. "It was the God damned prisons that made me gay! Oh, maybe I was sort of that way, before ... but the first time I went in ... when I was only nineteen ... there were these four guys ... and..."
"Yeah, we, know that story..." Ralph interjected.
"...But, the reason I'd rather be out ... is I miss being in drag! The first chance I get ... I'm going to get me a real cute outfit..."
"And, start making the gay bars, I suppose?" Grayson asked.
"Sure, man ... those are the best places to pick up real studs!"
Ralph stood up and growled, "Let's get the hell out of here!" Disgust was written plainly across his face.
"Don't try any passes at me!" Dickson growled heading for the door. "You'd better pay the check, since you've got the money!"
Back in the stolen car, Sweeney told them, "You're both acting too damned smart-ass! Remember, I've got this .38 ... and I'd just as soon kill you as look at you!"
Just after passing Beaumont, Sweeney, who had been studying a road map, gave new orders, "Turn off on the road that goes on up the mountain, then we'll work our way down those back roads to the Coast Highway and head back to Los Angeles."
"How come you've changed your mind...?" Grayson asked.
"It's too easy for the pigs to set up a roadblock on this highway! We'll double back ... now that they think we're headed toward Arizona."
With obvious relief, glad that they were finally headed back to L. A. where he had wanted to go originally, Grayson Wright complimented the fat queen with sarcasm, "Now ... you're using your head! That's where we were going in the first place."
* * *
His hard-muscled body was slithering downward, his moist lips trailing down through the narrow valley between her full-set, velvet-skinned breasts, the nipples fully erect, tingling with aroused excitement from Bruce's sucking and nibbling of them, and she wondered what it was he was going to do to her, now.
Then, as his teasing lips and mouth traveled lower still, down across the smooth, flat plane of her belly, his tongue dipping tauntingly into the shallow depression of her navel, she knew. Oh, he's going to use his mouth on me ... down there ... on my cunt ... like he did that time last week!" Debbie thought about it, remembering how she had responded to him, against her will. I didn't want him to do it, then! ... But now, the rising excitement keening through her, as his mouth worked lower and lower on her nakedly quivering belly, the feel of his hands spreading her thighs obscenely wide and the wash of cool air across the tender and already heated flesh of her cunt as he slowly parted the lips of her pussy, made her change her mind. Oh, God! Any moment now, he'd be licking her ... and she knew that she wouldn't object to it, as she had before, for suddenly, she found that she was holding her breath expectantly ... anticipating those nerve-charging sensations he would bring to her. I'm becoming a real sex-maniac ... just since last night!
"Damn! What a gorgeous, tight, little cunt!" Bruce breathed, his warm breath flowing over the moist, pink flesh of her vaginal opening as he spoke almost as much to it as to her.
"Ohh," she moaned. "Do it ... darling! Go ahead and do it to me!"
"Do what ... honey?"
"Lick ... my c-cunt...! "
"Say ... you're learning fast!" Bruce complimented his wife, as he dropped his head down between her wide-splayed thighs, his tongue shooting out snake-like to bury itself in the warm sheath of her cunt's mouth.
"OOOooohhh!" she groaned. "That feels sooo good!"
The telephone rang.
Bruce tried to ignore it. It could be Jack ... He's about the only one who knows we're here!
The telephone kept up its demanding jangle.
"Maybe you should answer it, Bruce..." Debbie suggested.
"I'll tear the damn thing out by the roots!" he growled, then grudgingly kneeled up and reached for the offending instrument.
"Bruce...?" It was Jack Howard, his boss.
"Yeah, it's me! What do you want?" Bruce wasn't trying to be civil.
"Thank God ... I was able to get hold of you!" his employer, said, sounding panicky. "I know you're on your honeymoon and all that ... but we've got trouble. I'm being billed for a bundle on the materials for that Wiseman contract ... and you're the only one who knows the cost break down..."
"Yeah ... that's that shopping center deal!" Bruce remembered. "...But there're no problems with cost there! We're working with the same suppliers..."
"Well, could you ease my mind ... and come down here for a couple of hours? I'd like to go over this with you!"
"Christ! Jack ... how do you expect me to do that...?"
"Only for a couple of hours...?"
The line went dead.
"Hello! Hello!" Bruce hung up. "Hell! He hung up on me, so it can't be that important!"
Knee-walking back over to his wife, Debbie, he saw that she was grinding her hips in tiny circles, while her own soft hand had stolen down to clasp her pussy caressingly.
"Hey, that's not fair ... finger-fucking yourself like that!" he kidded, a grin spreading over his face and his green eyes crinkling at the corners.
She jerked her hand away guiltily and blushed. "I-I've never done that before ... either..." she said sheepishly.
Again, Bruce came between her spread thighs and dropped his head down to resume his interrupted stimulation of his wife's cunt. "Don't worry, Baby ... from now on, I'll take care of this gorgeous cunt for you!"
* * *
Jack Howard had made his telephone call from a booth located in a service station lot, near the center of Idyllwild itself. His plan was simple enough: Lure Bruce Clark away from his lovely bride for three or four hours, so that he, Jack, could move in on her, seduce her and even the score. Damn! I'll teach him to keep his cock out of other men's wives!
When the telephone went dead, he ground out a curse and tried again. The bastard hung up on me! Unable to make the connection, again, he called the operator for assistance, who soon reported, "I'm sorry, Sir ... that line seems to be out of operation!"
Now, I'll have to think of some other way to get at her ... meanwhile, I'll go have a look around my place ... maybe get a look at them, too! Jack, of course, wasn't a particularly clever man. He wasn't sure yet what he would do next, but he'd think of something ... There's one thing for sure, though ... I'm going to find a way to fuck that little blonde bitch he married!
* * *
Ralph Dickson drove slowly through the village of Idyllwild. Sweeney, in the back seat, had a sudden inspiration.
"We'll stay here for a couple of days!" he smiled. "They'd never look for us to hole up in the mountains..."
"Where...?" Grayson asked. "They'll check the motels and rental cabins..."-
"Well, we'll just pick out a place and take it over!" Sweeney explained.
The hardware, in the form of his pistol stolen from the injured policeman in Colton, was the deciding persuasive factor, and there was nothing for Grayson Wright and Ralph Dickson to do but follow the fat man's orders.
Sweeney picked out the house.
"This one'll do! Ralph, go find where the telephone lines come in to the side of the house and cut them!"
Grumblingly, Dickson did his bidding, returning in a couple of minutes to report, "I jerked the wires out ... so the telephone's useless. Some guy in there was talking on the phone, when I did it!"
"He see you...?"
"No!"
"Did you see him...?"
"Yeah, he was in bed ... making it with a broad!" Ralph said.
Grayson was looking at the crepe-decorated car parked in the carport, under the house. "They must be newlyweds..." he observed.
"That's just tough titty!" Sweeney growled. "This's where we're going to stay. The house is up high, so we can see all around ... and as far as the lovebirds are concerned ... we'll just tie them up ... so they won't bother us! That is ... " his face split into a lewd leer, "we'll tie them up ... unless you two straights want a crack at the woman..."
God! It'd been such a long time since Grayson had felt the soft warmth of a woman under him. He was interested. What man locked up in prison wouldn't be? That is ... except guys like Sweeney!
"You mean ... rape...?" Ralph asked.
"I mean ... you want a woman ... don't miss your chance at it!" Sweeney growled. "I kind of goofed it with that kid in the service station..."
"Yeah ... I guess you did. ... " Grayson agreed. Poor kid didn Y have a chance!
"Come on ... let's go!" Sweeney commanded. He had his pistol in his hand. "You knock on the door, Wright, then I'll cover him and we're in!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
Debbie struggled to a sitting position, sudden fear and horror stabbing deep into her belly, and a terrified scream came piercingly from her terror-distorted mouth.
"Oh, Godddd! Bruce! Bruuuuuuuce!"
"Keep her quiet!" Sweeney barked.
Instantly, Ralph Dickson was there on the bed with her, his hand clamping down hard on her mouth to stifle her long, drawn-out shrieks. "Shut up!" he hissed into her ear. "...And, you won't get hurt!"
Her naked body squirmed in his grasp, and he was aware of how soft and smooth, warm and womanly she was. Damn! She's really something! His eyes swept over her with lewd desire. Christ! He could hardly wait to sink his aching, sex-starved cock into her pretty cunt!
Begging with her eyes, she stared up into this good-looking blonde man's pale blue eyes, and saw the raw desire there, and she knew, somehow divined, what he was thinking. My God! He's going to rape me! "Promise me you won't scream any more ... and I'll let you go," Ralph bargained, "otherwise ... we'll have to tie you and gag you ... understand...?"
She shook her head in understanding, and he released her; then, she looked up to see her husband, Bruce, who stood helplessly watching, while a repulsive, fat man held a pistol on him.
"B-Bruce..." she whined, "what's ... going
Vll.....
In helplessly impotent rage, her husband ground out, "These bastards are taking over!"
"Who ... are they...?"
"It doesn't make any difference who we are, lady! You just keep your mouth shut, do what you're told ... and everything will be okay!" the fat man with the gun growled, not really looking at her.
Sweeney's eyes were on Bruce. He looked over his lithe muscular body, clad only in trousers, and in his own perverted way, he too was thinking about the fun he was going to have with him. In his pants, below his paunch, his cock came alive with desire.
Grayson Wright came into the bedroom, then. He had made a quick inspection of the rest of the cabin. In the kitchen, he had found an eight inch boning knife. Slipping it into his jacket pocket he thought: Never can tell ... this might come in handy! He knew, of course, that it would be a poor match for the .38 caliber revolver that the fat queen carried. There were still five cartridges in the gun's chambers, five potentially death-dealing slugs. Damn! Not very good odds!
His first glimpse of the woman sitting up in the bed, honey blonde hair disarrayed, terrified eyes looking around at them like a trapped animal, her body all mounds and curves sculpted alabaster-white flesh that he knew would be smooth, soft and warm, was like a stabbing pain in his loins. God damn! She's beautiful! He had to have her right then! Automatically he began to take off his jacket, as his eyes devoured her luscious body.
"Not yet!" Jerry Sweeney grunted. "We're going to tie up this beautiful animal first ... and
I'm going to really have myself a ball!"
There was no doubt in Bruce's mind, now, that the three men were bent on raping his wife, Debbie. The Bastards! ... And, there was nothing he could do to prevent it! There're three of them ... and this fat son-of-a-bitch with the gun is dangerous!
Following Sweeney's orders, Ralph and Grayson ripped up sheets and tied Bruce Clark's wrists to the legs of the bed. He had been forced to lie prone on the floor by the fat gunman, and as they tied him, Grayson knew what the bulky homosexual had in mind. He was appalled and repulsed. Looking up at Sweeney, from where he knelt on the floor, finishing up and tying a gag in the tall redhead's mouth, Wright growled, "Are you really thinking about buggering this guy?"
"Hell, yes!" The fat man began taking off his clothes. "...And you two guys are going to hold his legs!"
Bruce heard it but couldn't believe it! No! God damn ... it's me he's after! He struggled against his bonds, his voice muffled by the gag ... and his mind was reeling from the realization of what was about to happen. He's a fag ... and he's going to ... Revulsion burned in him acidly, and he tensed his muscles, desperately, futiley against the securely tied strips of sheeting holding his wrists. Christ! If he'd only known or guessed he would never have let them tie him like this!
Sweeney was stripped naked, now; his repulsive fatness, the milk-whiteness of his skin, contrasting sharply with the vibrant hugeness of his thickly pulsing cock. As he had stripped, he had laid the pistol down on the dresser close at hand, and his watchful, beady eyes had kept track of everyone in the room.
"Okay ... get those damned pants off of him!" he grunted.
Grayson started to object. "Damn it, Sweeney ... why don't you use some sense...?"
The pistol was in the fat man's hand, again, instantly. "No names, God damn it! You want them to know who we are?" he roared. "Now, do like I tell you!"
Together, Ralph and Grayson, threatened by the unwavering muzzle of the pistol, did as he bade them, reluctantly stripping Bruce Clark's trousers from him.
Then, the fat fag knelt down over the prone man, his hand lewdly caressing the thick length of his own expanding cock. Laying the gun on the floor beside him, he reached out to caress the slim, sinewy buttocks of the other man.
"Spread his legs out now ... and hold him, tight!" he grated, excitement in his voice, as his hand moved down the narrow crevice between Bruce's muscular buttocks.
Somehow, Grayson knew at that moment that he could do it ... would do it. His stomach churned with determination born of revulsion, and there was excitement, fear and a mixed up little prayer all chasing themselves through his mind at the same time. He hadn't moved to obey Sweeney's order.
The fat man looked up at him and spat, "You heard me!"
"Okay..."
He knelt down, pretending to take hold of Clark's right foot, as at the same time, his hand went into his jacket pocket and brought out the steak knife. Suddenly, he lunged, his target the soft spot, rolling with fat, at the base of the pervert's neck. He sunk the knife deep, then grasped and hauled the man's heavy body back prostrated on the floor, shouting, "Get the gun, Ralph!"
Dickson was already diving for the pistol. "Got it!" he exclaimed, as his hand closed on it and brought the muzzle to bear on the wounded Sweeney.
The fat queen squealed, "Don't! Don't shoot!"
"No! Don't shoot!" Wright echoed. "Help me get him out of here!"
Together, the two men dragged the bulky man by the arms into the hallway. He was bleeding profusely.
"God! Don't do ... anything else ... to me!" Sweeney begged.
In the hallway, he struggled to sit up, but Grayson pushed him back down with a foot. "I ought to kill you, you bastard!"
Suddenly, bright red blood gushed from the fat man's mouth and nose, and he sank back unconscious ... or dead. Ralph knelt down beside him, feeling for a pulse.
"He's dead!" he said with finality.
Grayson tried to feel compassion ... guilt at least, but there was nothing to feel. It was almost as though he had put a mad dog out of its misery. "Good!" he grunted.
There was a sound outside, close to the cabin. Grayson heard it. "Somebody snooping around outside!" he whispered. "Let's find out who it is...?"
Bruce, tied helplessly on the floor, breathed a little prayer of thanksgiving, glad that whoever that man was who had saved him from the fat queen's perverted attack, had done so ... for whatever reason. Christ! The son-of-a-bitch was really going to do it! He still had that slimy feel on his buttocks where the fat man's hands had caressed him.
On the bed, Debbie was stricken, unable to move as the quick, fatal turn-of-events was enacted before her terror-filled eyes. She had understood little of what was said, but when she saw that horrible man undressing and then kneeling down over her husband's prone form, she had understood only too well what was happening; however, she was powerless to do anything to help. Oh, My God!
... But, just as soon as she saw the two men leave the bedroom, she hopped off the bed and ran to Bruce. Frantically, she tore at his bonds to free him.
She had freed one of her husband's hands, and he was busily attempting to untie the other one when Grayson and Ralph came back into the bedroom with another prisoner.
Debbie looked up with frightened eyes to see that it was her husband's boss. "Mr. Howard!" she gasped.
"Are you all right ... Debbie...?" he asked. "Yes ... b-but ... " Her eyes strayed to the hallway.
"I ... saw that..." he told her. "Bruce...?"
"That's enough talking!" Grayson snarled. "You sit over there!" He prodded Jack with the pistol. "And you stay right where you are!" he ordered Bruce.
Quickly, Jack Howard was tied and gagged; then, similarly, Debbie's husband was put into a chair, brought from the kitchen, and retied to it. While they were being rendered immobile, Wright told them, again, "Just do what your're told and nobody'll get hurt!"
"What next...?" Ralph asked, as the two men finished their work.
"Well ... we're here, so we might as well stay and enjoy ourselves for a while!" His eyes swept lasciviously over Debbie's curvaceous body, where she sat forlornly on the edge of the bed.
"...And ... Sweeney...?"
"We'll have to wait until dark to leave. We'll dump him in some deep canyon ... on our way down the mountain!" Wright told him.
But, right now, I've got an aching cock ... and the only cure for it is to shove it in this beautiful little cunt!"
* * *
On that Monday morning, Wanda had been awakened by her husband's getting out of bed inordinately early.
"Wha Where're you going ... darling...?" she asked sleepily.
"I've got an early golf date," he lied.
"Oh...?" She was asleep, again.
Later, she heard him leave the house, but there was something wrong. She dozed for a few more minutes, awakening again with the feeling that something was amiss ... on the order of the second shoe that hadn't dropped yet. She thought about it wonderingly. It came to her with a jolt. Jack's golf clubs! He didn't take them! She remembered it clearly, now. His clubs were stored in a hall closet. She hadn't heard him take them out!
Fully awake, now, Wanda Howard padded down the hallway to see for herself. His bag of golf clubs reposed undisturbed in the closet. I'll be damned ... now where do you suppose he's off to...? She pulled the heavy bag out of the closet, thinking that it might be helpful if she were to call the Country Club where he usually played. ... But, it's too early! There wouldn't be anyone there, yet!
Then, she saw it. Nestled down among the clubs was a roll of papers. She took it out, unrolled the sheets idly to determine their importance. Jack's always losing important papers connected with the business...
Wanda gasped, as she saw that it was a report from a detective agency ... And I'm the one the report's about! My God! Jack had Bruce and me followed!
She read, dreading every word of it. God! It's all here! Everything we did!
Doodled across the bottom of the report in her husband's scrawling hand were the words: MAKE THE PUNISHMENT FIT THE CRIME!
"Make the punishment ... fit the crime!" she read aloud.
Suddenly, she knew where her husband was going! My God! He's going to get revenge by ... By what...? Over and over she asked herself that question. The answer seemed to be only one possibility! Debbie! Bruce's wife!
CHAPTER NINE
Debbie drew back in alarm, plucking at the bedclothes to cover her shameful nakedness, as now both men's eyes were raking over her body lustfully. "No ... please...?" she begged.
Grayson began taking off his clothing, tossing the garments aside carelessly. He smiled at her in an awkward attempt to put her at ease. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Debbie..." she murmured. "Who Who ... are you...?"
"I'm going to level with you, Debbie. My name's Grayson Wright and my friend's name is Ralph Dickson. We escaped from prison this morning ... and it's just an accident that we're here."
"What about him...?" She looked toward the hallway.
"His name was Jerry Sweeney. He's a killer!"
"...But, didn't you kill him...?"
"He deserved it!" Grayson growled. "But let's talk about something pleasant ... like you! You know what we both want . .--.--? "
Dismally, Debbie shook her head and shot a look at her husband, Bruce, tied helplessly in the chair. She saw that his green eyes were wild, like those of a trapped animal; his muscles worked, rippling under his skin, as he tried to free himself. Jack Howard, too, was securely tied. There was no help for her. She was alone with these two virile men ... and there was nothing she could do to stop their lustful designs on her body. She was going to be raped ... and she might as well resign herself to it! God! What can I do ... ?
Grayson was just slipping off his shorts to stand there beside the bed completely naked, and try as she might, Debbie couldn't help looking at him, her eyes locking onto the spearing penis that stood out, stiffly hardened and pulsing with lust, from the hairiness of his loins. Her eyes widened with new terror as she saw the enormity of it.
Coming to the bed where she sat cringing on the edge of it, Wright reached for her, but she drew back, turning and crawling to the center of the bed, her eyes darting desperately toward her immobilized husband. "God, no ... please? Don't touch me!"
"Your husband's no help to you, Baby!" he told her crawling up beside her and taking her solidly into his arms. "So you might as well make up your mind that you're going to be fucked! I haven't had a woman ... for over two years!"
Roughly, he forced her to lie stretched out beside him, as his hungry mouth captured her soft lips, his tongue probing deeply into her mouth as it burst through the barrier of her teeth. She hated it ... hated him, as she recoiled and attempted to roll her head aside, but he held her tight and close; pressing in against her warm, white thigh below, she felt the rampant hardness of his penis, long and throbbing warmly. Ugh! He's a criminal ... an escaped convict and a ... killer!
The other man, Ralph, lay down beside her, on the other side, and she felt his warm nakedness press in close to her, his erect penis gouging warmly into the dimpled, velvety skin at the base of her spine.
She was trapped between them, and she could think of no way to delay what was going to happen to her, for she was sure now that there was no escaping her fate. She was going to be fucked by two men ... two virile men, who had not touched a woman for more than two years. Two men! At the same time? Ohh, My God! How can they?
Then the two men were pulling and hauling her into the middle of the bed to lie straight in it, and it was Ralph who re-captured her lips, kissing her deeply, as she lay supine between the two naked men, their massive cocks on either side pressing tight against the alabaster whiteness of her trembling, beautiful tapered thighs.
It was Grayson's hands roaming over her body, massaging caressingly at her breasts, his fingers rolling the tiny, pink buds of her nipples to an unwanted erect state. Then his lips were there sucking and nibbling, taking the whole nipple and the tightly crinkled flesh of its aureola into the wet warmth of his mouth.
Debbie had been aroused almost to the point of being too far gone, just before all the bizarre events had begun to happen in her bedroom, as Bruce had licked and sucked her cunt. If those men hadn't walked in then, she would have been begging her husband to stop tormenting her ... shove his fully hardened cock in her and fuck her wildly ... wantonly.
She didn't know it, but her body, so fully aroused just a few minutes before, had merely put her eroticism on 'hold', a plateau from which the ascent to the heights was still possible. However much her mind fought against it, it was her body, now finely tuned to sexual response that would dominate her. No! I won't give in to them! I won't let myself!
That's why she was so surprised, only moments later, when her waiting passion was fanned into full flame, again, as Grayson's hungrily seeking mouth, on the voluptuous, sensitive flesh of her breasts, first nurtured then brought her again to searing heights of desire.
Pressing her thighs close together, Debbie tried to deny the ecstatic sensation that raced headlong through her body, searing her belly, her breasts ... and her tremblingly aching loins. A little, involuntary moan escaped her. "OOooh!" Bruce! Oh, God ... he's watching me! What'll he say if ... I-I ... She shied away from even thinking about that! I won't! I won't! I ... won't let them make me ... want it!
Just then, she felt Grayson's body slithering lower, until he was kissing her belly moistly, and as he moved ever lower, trailing his kisses down across the smooth flat whiteness of her stomach, Ralph's hands were grabbing at her breasts with maddening urgency.
She knew Oh, God, she knew, now the goal of his searching mouth, as it arrived over the golden curls of her pubic mound, and his hands were reaching down to pry her clamped-together legs apart. She could have expected it. What better way to bring a woman to total submission than by licking and sucking her cunt ... until she was putty in their hands? It's not fair! She knew what would happen the instant his tongue contacted her clitoris.
Bruce watched the other man's mouth as it came down over Debbie's loins. He could see that her hips churned gyratingly under her in tiny, almost imperceptible circles, and he cursed into his muffling gag. The son-of-a-bitch is going to make her want it! His lithe body surged against his bonds. Christ! If I could only get loose...!
When Ralph squeezed her breasts and rolled her hardened nipples between his fingers, she groaned mewlingly with the taunting ecstasy of it, but then he broke the deep, tongue-probing kiss and dropped his mouth to begin sucking on her nipples alternately, making them move rapidly in and out of his tensed lips while maintaining a strong suction, at the same time; she was almost literally driven wild with a desire for more of the same. Suddenly, uncontrollably, her hand cupped her breast up to him, offering it to him with impunity, of her own free will ... a will dictated by her wantonly rising desire, while her other hand came up to caress his cheek, as she looked down and saw, for the first time, the blonde whiteness of his hair and his Scandinavian good looks. It was then, she knew that she could not remain detached ... couldn't help responding, and her heart beat wildly, knowing that afterward ... there would be her husband, Bruce's unpredictable, raging jealousy to contend with. ... But, I can't help it!
Grayson splayed her legs wide apart, his head nestling down into the angle of them, his mouth and teeth claiming the soft, velvety flesh of her inner thighs as he nibbled and kissed her there, his mouth like a firebrand on the sensitive skin, so close to his ultimate target. Finally, she felt him use both hands to part ever so slowly the heated lips of her pussy, and his tongue shot out to stab deep into the mouth of her cunt, moistly bedewed with the droplets of exuding fluids from the walls of her vagina. Without thinking, completely out of control, now, her hips undulated up against his face, and she moaned with the same passion her husband's tongue had produced in her. OOOooohhh! Their mouths are going ... to drive me crazy!
Shifting his body now to kneel between her widely spread legs, Grayson used his tongue in expertly reaming circles just inside the coral pinkness of her vaginal opening. He grinned with lascivious satisfaction as her loins gyrated on the end of his lasciviously taunting tongue. Then, he pushed his mouth in tighter to her open cunt, as he began to stab his lingual member in and out of her in imitation of a fucking cock. The wanton countering thrusts of her hips up against him told him clearly that she was getting hot ... that she was almost ready to fuck! God damn! She's a hot, little bitch!
It had been so long ... so long that he had almost forgotten what it was like to be with a woman, caressing her, loving her ... fucking her. Christ! He didn't know how much longer he could play around like this before he'd have to shove his aching cock in her and fuck her, but he wanted her ready for it. He wanted to make her cum, too ... wanted to know that he could make her cum explosively, and that he'd done it for both of them. In his own mind he was not raping this woman a newlywed obviously but rather he wanted to feel that he was really loving her.
He inhaled deeply of the heady perfume of her womanliness, losing himself in the totally female flavor of her warm moisture as he tongued in and out of her tender, pink, little cunt. God! It was like a taste of Paradise ... after the living hell of the prison at Prado. Even the most perfect of prisons are a hell, because they isolate men from society ... especially the society of women.
That's why homosexualism is so rampant ... why young kids are made into hardened criminals.
Without let-up he tongued her, and she moved undulantly against him lewdly counterpointing his deep-lashing tongue. Occasionally he nipped at the tender serrations of her cuntal flesh with his teeth, until she was almost a blazing inferno of gyrating desire. ... Then, his tongue came out of her vaginal opening and pressured upwards through her coral-pink furrow to taunt the short, erect bud of her sensitive clitoris.
Her body responded spasmodically to the electric stimulation. Oh, God! I can't help it! I've got to have it. . . ! Suddenly her hips heaved up off the bed, mashing her loins tight against the escaped convict's face, groaning with her passion, "Oh, OOOooohhh ... yes. Do it! Lick my cunt ... good, then fuck me!"
Grayson lifted his head from her heated, heaving loins. Looking up at her over Dickson, who still stimulated her breasts, he asked, "Both of us ... at the same time?"
"Yes! God yes! I want both of you! I want both of your cocks!" she cried. Then she remembered: He said ... both ... at the same time ... ? She hadn't thought about that! ... But, how can they...?
"Okay! That's how it'll be!" Grayson smiled, and his face disappeared down between her thighs again as, this time, his tongue danced maddening pirouettes on her tortured clitoris.
Debbie felt herself sliding downhill into insane pleasure as crashing sensations in her loins built to mammoth waves of ecstatic desire. She raised her hips grindingly to offer them to Grayson's tauntingly stimulating tongue, while at the same time she thrust her breasts upward into Ralph's face, wanting more and yet more of everything they were doing to her. Her eyes were closed, and she knew that it was only moments now before she would erupt into orgasmic release. Oh, God! It's gone on so long! Why doesn't one of them ... shove a hard cock in me ... and fuck me with it...?
Actually it was a good thing that Debbie's eyes were closed. Had she glanced in her husband's direction, the poisonous look in his eyes, his rage-distorted face behind the gag and his muffled, angry curses might have given her terrified pause, but whether it would have stopped her insane, sexual need is a moot question. She was too far gone ... beyond reason ... beyond reckoning the consequences.
Now she felt Grayson kneeling up between her legs. Opening her eyes for a flickering moment she saw his handsome, lust-distorted face, short, jet-black hair, expressive brown eyes and his tall, muscular figure, so very much like Bruce's. He seemed like a good man, a man only in need of loving, of sex, and she couldn't connect him with prisons, prison escapes and killing. ... But, God, it must be true! They said that horrible, fat man ... was dead!
Even so, she couldn't deny her desire, now, as the next sensation she felt was the sensuous contact of the convict's finger, teasing her clitoris, then dropping down to make a moist entrance into her vaginal opening. Then, the sensation grew ever more intense, and she realized that now there were two fingers ... then three moving in and out of her cuntal mouth. OOOOOOoooohhhh! It felt soooo good!
Ralph Dickson, meanwhile, left her sensitive breasts, his mouth capturing hers, his tongue probing deep into her mouth, while his hands caressed her body. She liked the way the blonde convict's hands moved on her, the way he kissed her so passionately, and she took his tongue greedily, sucking on it gently at first, then more violently, using her teeth to nibble on its sinuous length. Then, he forced her to trade after a few moments, as he sucked and chewed on her tongue, finally shifting to concentrate on her lips, gently sucking them between his lips. It was all so maddeningly tantalizing; her erotic rapture building to such heights that she was sure she would explode any moment, like a ticking time-bomb.
Moving her helpless and unresisting legs apart with determined authority, Grayson wedged his slim hips up between them, his hands running caressingly over the warm, soft smoothness of their luscious taper, then he reached down to his hard, aching cock and worked the loose foreskin back from the tip. There were a few drops of colorless moisture exuding from its slitted head, and when he took his hand away his penis throbbed yearningly, standing out lancingly, ready for its sexual conquest. Undulating there before his eyes he saw that her flowered-open cunt, pink and tenderly moist was ready ... inviting him, indeed almost bidding him to come into her.
With a throaty moan of anticipation both his hands went under her wantonly gyrating buttocks. He felt the satiny flesh of them, the muscles working smoothly in his palms, as he spread her wide to receive him; then, he came over her, the pulsing head of his cock nestling down into the tight opening of her cuntal softness.
Suddenly, she moaned, "Oh, now! Fuck me!
God! Fuck me, now!"
Now! Now! NOW! Flexing his hips, Grayson drove the thick length of his hardened cock deep into the clinging, moist warmth of her vagina, the bulbous cock-head driving all the way to the bottom of her cuntal sheath in one plunging thrust.
"OOOoooh!" she moaned, the temporary pain of it bringing a grimace to her lovely face, the sound muffled against Ralph's mouth.
He expanded the shaft of his cock deep in her and was gratified to feel the muscles inside her vagina countering him with a clasping caress of her own. Meanwhile he explored the curves and tapers of her quivering thighs, flat belly and full-mooned buttocks, upturned now to take him yet deeper into the searing depths of her pussy, his hands moving incessantly as they swarmed over her luscious contours. Finally, his hand searched out the secret hole of her anus, unprotected now in the hidden crevice of her buttocks. Dragging his middle finger through the moisture that dribbled around the girth of his cunt-stretching cock, he probed up into the spongy tissues of her defenseless rectum.
Her breath caught in her throat and her hips recoiled away from his lewdly worming finger. Slowly, he pressed it into her clenching anus. Her body jerked, and he heard her moan whimperingly. Now, with his palm flat against the smooth, white skin of her buttocks, he felt her screw herself down tighter on his middle finger, skewering her back passage with it and absorbing it fully. At the same time, he ground his throbbing cock into her another fraction of an inch. "OOOooohhh, my Godddd!" she groaned.
Uncontrollably, she moved her sensitive breasts up against Ralph's hard chest muscles, and she reached up, put her arms around him and hugged him close to her, her fingernails raking his back with the intensity of her passion. Below, she ground her hips wildly against the double ravishment of Grayson's massively stiffened cock in her cunt and his middle finger buried deep in her rectum. Every cell of her body was responding to the two virile men, the fires in her belly consuming her ... but nothing was happening! She couldn't stand it any longer. She wanted to be fucked, wantonly, the hard, thick length of the convict's cock plunging into her to the deepest, her sexual greed being unleashed in her like a snarling jungle beast ... But, he's not moving! I want him to shove it in and out ... hard ... and long and deep! Twisting her mouth aside to break Ralph's deep, tongue-thrusting kiss, she wailed, "God! Don't torment me ... like this! Don't make me wait ... any longer! Fuck me ... God damn it! Fuck ... me ... now!"
With long, smooth strokes, forcing himself to the discipline of it, Grayson began to piston in and out of her seethingly alive cunt, not thrusting hard and long or forcefully, but easy and unrushed. He sensed that she was very near to climax, and he waited, timing it, then at the right instant, he would give her everything he had in one final cunt-goring finale. Hold back, damn it! Hold back ... then fuck the hell out of her ... so she'll remember it the rest of her life!
Her breath came raspy and harsh from deep in her lungs, and her eyes glazed as the raging sensations became almost unbearable, unquenchable except by soaring release in orgasm. Her hips ground wildly up to him, her cunt slithering up and down his desire-inflamed cock-shaft, trying to absorb the whole lust-thickened length of it deep up into her softly quivering belly, at the same time as she wanted his finger buried deeper yet in her sensation-charged rectum.
She's fucking back! Now's the time! ... And, he couldn't wait any longer! With an animal-like grunt, he flicked his slim, muscular hips and rammed his demanding cock powerfully, using all the strength of his body, driving it deeply, until his sperm-loaded balls smacked up tight and hard against the tightly clenched crevice of her buttocks, from which at the last instant he had ripped his finger with a moist hissing sound. Their pubic bones crashed together painfully, and Grayson poised there, goring her deeply for a moment, enjoying the delicious sensation in his loins before he began to fuck her with insane determination, his cock in her cunt pistoning in and out with the surging power of a jackhammer.
Debbie moaned with helpless pleasure up into Ralph's mouth. She wanted more of his probing tongue to suck upon, but she was disappointed when he raised above her, breaking the kiss and beginning to shift his body. Suddenly, he was straddling her chest, his white buttocks mashing down on her wildly heaving breasts. She was confused as to his intention; then, looking up, she stared directly at his pulsingly massive cock, its lust-inflated head poised only inches from her own passion-contorted lips. In spite of her own greedy lust, she turned her head aside, moaning, "No ... please, no...?" She had the sudden but vague idea, somehow, that he wanted her to take it into her mouth, and she recoiled away from it.
Then, he was gripping her head firmly with both hands and turning it back straight. "Suck it, Baby!" he growled.
My God! That's really what he wants! She was repulsed. Struggling to free her head from his grip, she squealed, "NO! God, no! I've never ... done that!"
"But, now you will!" His determined, pale blue eyes glared down at her, as he forced her mouth open by pressing on the muscles of her jaw.
The glistening head of his cock brushed her lips as he forced her mouth to open wide ... and then the spongy head was in the moist cavern of her mouth gagging her with its monstrous presence.
"Close your lips around it, now ... and suck!" he ordered. "Use your tongue ... and be damned careful with your teeth!"
She was helpless to disobey. With an effort she controlled the gagging sensation and ovaled her lips around the throbbing thickness of his cock; then, she swirled her tongue around it experimentally, licking at the smooth, satiny head. She found she actually liked the flavor of it. Hollowing her cheeks, she tried a sucking motion, and she was amazed to hear Ralph groan ecstatically above her lewdly bobbing head.
Below, Grayson's frantically ramming cock rocked her extra hard; her body jerked with the thrusting jolt, her head moving forward involuntarily and instantly, without warning, her mouth was filled with Ralph's pulsing hot shaft.
Closing her eyes, Debbie began to suck desperately, trying to imagine that it was only Ralph's tongue she was sucking, as she had before; while below Grayson pistoned into her cuntal sheath with insane fury, overwhelming her with his animal-like power, and she was filled with a sexual rapture beyond her wildest imaginings.
As he plunged like a pile-driver deep into the seething depths of the young bride's vagina, Grayson felt the building pressure in his balls, below, and he knew that it was only a matter of moments before he would cum spurtingly, deep in her trembling belly.
Above, Ralph forced the thick length of his lust-engorged cock deeper and deeper into her mouth, leaning forward now and supporting himself on strong arms as he began to flex his hips back and forth to drive it in and out of her mouth, which had become, in his mind a substitute cunt. The tingling sensations in his sperm-swollen balls and the expanding throb of his massive cock told him, too, that he would have to cum ... and soon. Christ! Her mouth is smooth and warm ... like honey! ... And, then, as he looked down to see the angry red shaft of his penis disappearing up into her mouth, he saw that it was going full length, as his blonde pubic hair pressed up tight to her chin with every stroke. She's taking it all the way down her throat!
A powerful choking spasm racked her throat, and Debbie tried to roll her head aside to force his withdrawal of that massive rod of hard flesh from her mouth. He held her tightly in place while he thrust straight up into her mouth. Around the head of his cock, Ralph Dickson could feel the swallowing motions of her throat; the sensations it produced were wildly erotic, and it pushed him just that much nearer to his release. Damn! It was good! He could feel the searing, acid-like burn of his semen, demanding its due release in spewing orgasm, and he began to fuck in and out of her ovaly sucking lips with greedy passion.
Jack Howard, who was tied in a chair on the opposite side of the bed, alternated between watching Bruce's wife Debbie being fucked by the two convicts on the bed, and watching Bruce, himself. The erotic rape scene was making him hot as hell ... and he would have liked nothing better than to be a part of it, if only to make Bruce even more aware of the punishment in mental anguish he was already experiencing, as he watched his tall, redheaded bookkeeper struggle against his ropes and mouth muffled curses. Hell! This is something ... watching him squirm while his bride of one night gets her ass fucked off by two men! ... And, the way she's fucking back ... and eating cock, at the same time! Christ! She's really far gone! Below, he felt his own cock inside his pants as it lurched involuntarily with aching need! He didn't know ... couldn't guess even, what these two men would do when they were finished. He knew they were dangerous, probably prison escapees. No! Not probably ... the black-haired guy had said they were! He had been forced to step around the dead, fat man in the hallway, but he didn't know how it had happened ... or who the unfortunate was. One thing he knew for sure ... when they left ... he was going to have to fuck that woman of Bruce's ... one way or another!
Suddenly, the remaining vestiges of Debbie's reserve gave way in her, and she surrendered completely to the salacious sensations of the pair of virile cocks fucking into her. She wanted everything, a plundering cock in every opening, if she could have had it at that moment, sorry that the handsome, black-haired Grayson, whose cock was thundering into her below, had pulled his finger out of her rectum. Instinctively, she reached up around Ralph's slender hips to pull him in closer yet to her, trying to relax her throat muscles, so that he could go deeply, easily into her tingly mouth and throat. Her humiliation and shame had fled leaving in its place complete acceptance and a lewd desire for more. It was an unexplainable paradox. She had learned so many things in such a short time, and some of those, which she had at first shrunk away from with fear, she now accepted with delight. She was sure that she would never understand it. What she did understand was the feeling of ecstatic rapture that flooded her whole being with sexually sensuous sensations. She had never felt so vibrantly alive in her whole life!
She was loving every moment of it, forgetting that she was being forced to do it ... at first, but dazedly, she wondered whether or not the two potently virile men, together, would rip her apart as they plunged into her with ever more powerful thrusts into her mouth and cunt at the same time. Two men! I can't believe it! Two men ... fucking me ... at the same time! OOOooohhh! It was wonderful! ... And, for the moment she had forgotten completely about the fact that she was married now ... and that her husband was watching the entire obscenely erotic display.
Everything was whirling now in the vortex of her passion, and she could feel herself being lifted as in a cyclone to the very heights ... where she would find welcome release from her agony, soon. Oh, God ... I'm going to cum ... soon! Soon!
Then, below, as Grayson Wright pounded deeply into her seethingly clasping cuntal sheath, she sensed that he was driving desperately toward his own orgasm. He was pounding into her hungrily straining pussy like a wild animal at rut, completely out of control.
She was concentrating on the intense sensations that his thundering cock generated in her, and she had never thought, even for an instant, that the blonde convict who was ramming his demanding cock deep into her crazily working throat would empty his lewd sperm directly into her mouth. Had she thought about it beforehand, she might have been repulsed even nauseated at the thought but she didn't have time to think about it.
Ralph came suddenly. His jetting sperm splashed into her mouth in scalding freshets of viscous white semen, and she was forced to swallow, again and again, to clear the thick life-liquid from her mouth.
... Then, she was helplessly out of control in the throes of her own orgasm that came to her soaringly. The ecstatic moment dimmed her eyes, shrouded her ears ... and there was nothing in the whole universe but sex, cock, cunt ... and fucking! Oh, Goddd! IIH'mmm cummmmiiinnngg! OOooohhh! AAAAAaaauuuggghh! ... But, she couldn't scream it out! Her throat worked, but no sound came from around Ralph's jerking cock stuffed deep in her mouth and down her throat.
Below, her hips heaved up against Grayson, squirming and quivering convulsively with the power of her climax. Expectantly, she waited for the moment when he, too, would erupt inside her wildly clasping cunt.
Insanely, faster and deeper he plunged into her ... until with a groan of completion, she felt the pumping expansion of his cock's shaft deep inside her quiveringly naked belly, and she was sure that she felt the white-hot sperm squirt from the slitted head of his penis to splash against the sensitive walls of her cunt's lining.
They all three came to orgasm within seconds of each other; greedily the two men caressed and massaged at her wildly spasming body, until gradually, as the last drops of their semen were expressed, they slowly released her and rolled away from their dominant position on top of her to lie stretched out along either side.
There was only the sound of labored breathing and the muffled rage of Bruce Clark behind his gag. Finally, after several moments, Ralph, spoke. "You were great, Doll ... just great!"
Grayson, on the other side, trailed a finger over the mounding contour of a breast and told her, "I think you're really something ... and I'm just sorry that I hadn't known you before ... but I'm sorrier ... because I won't get to know you better!"
Her first reaction was to agree with him ... but her eyes drifted toward the chair where Bruce was tied. His baleful eyes, flashing green fire, glared at her over his gag ... and she remembered: Bruce! He was watching ... and listening to EVERYTHING! "Oh, God! Bruce, darling..." she groaned. She had lived fully, vibrantly for a few brief minutes ... but she would have to live with her husband ... for years to come. God! The awful things he must be thinking of me! She struggled to sit up between the two men. Grayson pushed her back down.
"Don't worry about your husband!" he told her. "He knows we forced you ... and you couldn't help yourself!"
Ralph sat up on the edge of the bed. "We'd better haul ass out of here!" he suggested.
"Yeah! Good idea! ... And, we've got to dump that fat corpse somewhere. I don't want to leave it here ... to clutter up the place!"
"What about the woman!"
"We'll tie her up before we leave!" Grayson decided.
CHAPTER TEN
Wanda Howard drove warily up the winding side road toward their cabin. She recognized her husband's car as she passed it, parked about a hundred yards short of the house, and she grimaced with the knowledge that she had been correct in her guess that he had come up there bent on some wild idea of vengeance.
Actually she didn't know why she had driven up here herself ... didn't know what she was going to do when she arrived, but somehow it seemed to her she had to be there. Perhaps, she could do something to dissuade him ... if he hadn't accomplished his purpose. If he had done what she thought he intended to do ... what then...? I'll just have to play it by ear ... It was an extremely vague purpose she followed, because she wasn't sure at all of anything, yet.
Two men were just loading something bulky into the back of a car, which was parked in front of the Howard cabin. It looked like they were carrying a rolled up rug. Just as she slowed to pull in behind the Buick, the driver swung around in a U-turn and headed back toward the center of the village of Idyllwild. That's funny ... I don't remember that we'd decided to have any of the rugs cleaned! Anyway ... the people we call usually do them right here!
Parking her car, she surveyed the cabin. There was no movement around inside that she could see through the windows; neither were there any sounds of voices. Maybe, I ought to peek in the windows ... of the bedroom...
With a rising excitement, not knowing what she might see but feeling a little pang of guilt at becoming a possible voyeur, for she was convinced that something was happening inside, she got out of her car and made her way carefully to the rear of the cottage, where the bedroom was located. Carefully, taking care that she not be seen from inside, Wanda looked through the window and gasped at the scene she saw there. My God! Those two men They must have had something to do with this!
Quickly, she ran to the front door, fumbling for her key. She didn't need it; the door was unlocked. In a moment she was in the bedroom, where Debbie, Bruce Clark's young bride was tied hand and foot naked on the bed, a gag stuffed in her mouth, while tied to a chair, naked too was her husband Bruce. On the opposite side of the bed, her own husband Jack, still fully clothed, was similarly tied and gagged. They eyes of both men smiled at her, but she rushed to the bed where Debbie lay. Somehow, she knew that the young wife of only one day had been raped by the two men who drove away, just as she had arrived. God! The poor child! "I'll have you untied ... in a moment," she assured the curvaceous blonde beauty on the bed, and as she worked feverishly at the strips of sheeting, Wanda couldn't help noticing the voluptuous curves, the satiny skin ... the full-mounded loveliness of her breasts. She's a real beauty! Now, I understand why Bruce wanted to marry her! She looked across at the blonde's husband and saw that his penis was fully erect. The sight of it gave her a little tingling thrill, which was doubled in intensity when she looked over at her husband, Jack, to see that he, too, had involuntarily lurching bulge standing out against the cloth of his pants. From the looks of things ... it must have been going pretty hot and heavy around here!
Finally, Debbie's hands and feet were freed, and Wanda removed the gag from the younger woman's mouth. Debbie had melted into tears of relief when Wanda appeared in the room; as she was released she struggled to sit up and threw herself into the arms of her husband's employer's wife.
Wanda hugged her soft naked form to her and cooed, "Everything's going to be okay, now!"
"Two men ... escaped convicts..." Debbie sobbed. "They came in here ... and..."
"...And what, honey...?" Wanda coaxed, when the petite blonde stopped, unable to go on.
"They ... forced me..."
"I thought so ... but they didn't hurt you ... did they?" . "N-No..."
Bruce still tied to his chair, began rocking it back and forth, and his muffled voice came to them. Wanda had been so concerned with the tall redhead's young bride that she had forgotten, for the moment, that the two men were still tied.
"I'm sorry, Bruce," she said. "I'll have you free in just a moment!" She released Debbie, who sank back down on the bed, and went to work on Bruce Clark's bonds.
He was free in just a few moments. Furiously, Debbie's husband ripped the gag from his mouth and spat roaringly, "You little bitch! You're no better than a cheap, pick-up whore!"
Leaping out of his chair, he crawled up on the bed to kneel above his terrified bride, who stared up at him through tear-dimmed eyes, her mouth agape. "No! Please ... Bruce, darling? That's not true! I-I couldn't ... help it!"
"You loved every minute of it, damn you! You fucked them back ... like a two-bit whore!" He raised his hand to strike her.
Wanda was there. She grabbed his descending hand and grated into his ear, "Don't beat her, Bruce! Maybe she couldn't help it! Sometimes ... women do enjoy being raped ... when they're so far gone they can't help it!" She hung onto his arm for dear life as she pleaded with him.
"That's hard to believe!" he choked.
"Oh, God, darling ... you've got to believe it! It's true! I couldn't help myself ... at all, after a while! I had to let them fuck me!" Debbie wailed beggingly.
"Okay! So you couldn't help it!" His eyes gleamed then with renewed desire for her. His massive erection ached from having had to watch his wife's debauchment. He had to have her himself. "...And I can't help wanting to fuck you, again, myself ... right now!"
"No! Oh, God no! Not again ... now! Can't you wait for a while...?" his wife moaned.
"No!" Bruce roared. "...And, I'm going to fuck you the only way you haven't had it, yet!"
Shaking Wanda's grip from his arm, Bruce reached down to his young bride, grasped her by the waist, hauled her up and flipped her over to her stomach. Prone on the bed, Debbie struggled in strong-fingered grip, sobbing, "No! Oh, God Bruce ... let me up!"
Then he gripped her waist, hauling her up to her knees, the softly rounded moons of her quivering buttocks coming back toward the rage-hardened shaft of his pulsing cock that speared out menacingly from his hair loins. Tauntingly, then, he spat, "You know how I'm going to fuck you, bitch...?"
Her heart-broken sobs were his only answer.
"Then, I'll tell you! I'm going to shove my cock in your ass-hole! Understand...?"
She didn't understand him ... his reasoning why he would want to do such a horrible thing to her; it was outrageous ... unthinkable. Her mind boggled spinningly. My Godddd! He can't ... do it to me ... there!?
Wanda lost her balance when Bruce shook her off. She fell backward across the bed and listened to what the young bride's husband threatened to do to her. God! He'll hurt her ... if she isn't ready for it!
Then, she heard her husband, Jack, his voice muffled by the gag in his mouth, and she remembered that he was not freed, yet. She crawled off the bed and went to him. As she untied him she murmured, "He'll really hurt her ... unless we do something to help her!"
Jack's restraining bonds and his gag were off now, and he growled, "Thanks, Wanda ... I thought you'd never notice that I was all tied up, here." He was elaborately sarcastic about it. Standing to his feet he rubbed his wrists and leered lewdly at Bruce and Debbie on the bed. "...And, I'm going to help all right! I'm going to fuck that little girl, too!"
Deliberately Jack began to take off his clothes as Wanda watched her lover Bruce on the bed with his wife. The tall redhead was pulling back the heavy foreskin of his long, thick, pulsing cock with one hand, while with the other he held Debbie solidly in place on all fours before him. Then, he was flexing his hips and nudging the bulbous, blood-engorged head into the crevice between his wife's cream-white, fear-trembling buttocks.
Wanda knew what would happen, next, and she acted to delay it. Sinuously, she climbed on the bed, unbuttoning her blouse at the same time and allowing the fullness of her breasts, unfettered by any restraining bra to peep out prettily. Her hand reached out and grasped the hardened shaft of Bruce's prick, feeling it warm and throbbing in her hand, as she had so many times.
"Bruce ... wait!" she hissed at him. "You'll be making a mistake ... if you do that to your wife without getting her ready for it!"
He was already prodding the head of it against the puckered flesh of his bride's tight little anus.
"Damn it, Wanda! Stop interfering!"
"No!" She squeezed his cock's shaft hard with her tiny hand. "She's got to be stretched, first ... before you fuck her there with this big cock of yours!"
He was detracted, now. "Really .--. . ? " he queried with a grunt, some reasoning returning to him.
"Really! Believe me!"
"How?"
"Use your fingers ... starting with one ... and working up to three, at least ... " she instructed.
"Okay..."
Wanda released the pulsing shaft of his penis as he rocked back on his heels. She started taking off her blouse. Tossing it aside, she kneeled up to shed her skirt and panties, and she too was completely naked. Then, she crawled up to lie down so that her head was near Debbie's. She smiled into the younger woman's tearful face, saying, "It'll be easier for you ... after your husband stretches you back there!"
"Oh, God! I don't care ... any more! I just wish he'd get it over with! He's only doing it ... because he hates me ... now!" the honey-blonde bride wailed.
"I don't think so!" Wanda said.
"He's punishing me ... because I couldn't help liking it ... they way those two men ... f-fucked me!" She winced with pain, as she felt her husband shove his finger into the smooth, spongy passage, back there between her fearfully clenching buttocks.
Wanda reached out to cup a rounding, pear-shaped breast that hung down pendulously from Debbie's chest, feeling its satiny smoothness and rolling the sensitive nipple to erection between her thumb and forefinger. "I think maybe it has something to do with male pride."
"How's that...?"
"It's the reason for my husband being here!" She glanced up to see that Jack was naked, now, and was crawling up on the bed to watch as Bruce wormed his finger around in his wife's warm rectum.
"What is this ... True Confession hour...?" he asked.
"You could call it that ... because I think she has a right to know, now!" Wanda said levelly.
Debbie was confused; she didn't know what Wanda was talking about. "...What about why ... Mr. Howard is here...?" she queried, looking back toward him for the first time, and seeing his nakedness, the lancing stiffness of his fully erected penis standing out below and throbbing with his heartbeat. She gasped. "Oh, God, no! Him ... too?"
"Yes ... I'm afraid so ... and the reason he wants to ... is because his male pride has been hurt ... he thinks!"
"Go ahead and tell her!" Jack growled. "Tell her all about you and Bruce!"
"I will ... " Wanda rasped out at him. "My way...! "
"Y-You ... and Bruce...?" Debbie echoed. "What...?"
Bruce Clark, kneeling behind his wife, suddenly pulled his finger from her rectum, replacing it immediately with two of them, as he followed Wanda's direction. He had been listening to the others talk, not caring to join in himself, but as he caught the drift of the conversation, he didn't like what he heard. "Why does my wife have to know all about past history ... especially right now?" he questioned.
"Because we all happen to be here ... right now!" Wanda returned.
Debbie felt the searing pain in her cruelly stretched rear passage as her husband's two fingers plunged deep into her there, and she recoiled, trying to rock forward away from it. Jack reached out to help Bruce hold her solidly in place. "OOoooh!" she whined. "That hurts!"
The young bride had never experienced the hands of another woman, but she liked the soothing way that Wanda Howard's hands were roaming over her body now. It was strange, but there was a tiny flame being rekindled in her belly, telling her that she was going to be aroused again.
Wanda was talking earnestly to her. "Listen to me, Debbie! You've got to know this! A long time before your husband ever met you ... he and I were lovers...! "
Somehow, it didn't matter to Debbie. She had known that Bruce was an experienced man ... had known that he had a mistress, but it was her own transgression she worried about now ... and for which her husband had threatened a sadistic punishment, which he was carrying out determinedly. God! I probably deserve it!
Bruce's wife hadn't responded and Wanda repeated it. "Did you hear me, Debbie...? Do you understand what I'm saying
"I-I guess it ... but I didn't know it was you..."
"My husband found out about it ... and like I said ... that's why he's here! His injured male pride leads him to think that he's punishing me and Bruce ... by making it with you!" Wanda explained.
Savagely Bruce wormed his fingers around inside his young wife's rectum, and glaring at his boss, he growled, "so, that's it?"
Equally determined, Jack shot back, "That's right!"
"Like hell!" Bruce objected.
"You don't have a leg to stand on! I know all about how you've been sneaking around behind my back ... and I'm going to get repaid ... by fucking the ass off your sweet little bride!"
It all began to fall into place for Debbie, as she cringed away from the punishing, stretching fingers in her rear passage.
"Do I get any say ... about it...?" she asked, turning her head to look back at the two belligerent men.
"Why should you?" Bruce grated.
"Because ... I-I'm a person ... not a thing!" Debbie retorted. "You've been talking about me ... like I'm a machine ... or maybe an animal. . . !
"Good for you, Debbie!" Wanda cheered. Wanda's husband's hand had roamed down and under Debbie, caressing the softness of her belly and rummaging in the blonde gold of her pubic hair, and now his middle finger was there in the warmth and moisture of her throbbing pink pussy, teasing at the short, hardened shaft of her clitoris.
"I think she's right, too!" Jack agreed. "Why don't you ask her what she wants?"
Both Wanda's and Jack Howard's eyes were glued now on Bruce's face as he struggled with conflicting emotions that raged in him. Damn! She's right I suppose! Otherwise, we're going to be doing the same thing those two guys did to her ... And when you stop to think about it ... Debbie was already hot, because I was working her up. Then, when those two escaped convicts started in on her ... well, I guess she couldn't help it! Then, a startling thought began racing through his head. God damn! I couldn't have done anything about that fat fag ... who was all set to bugger me, while I was tied up! If it hadn't been for that black-haired guy putting a knife in that fat son-of-a-bitch ... I'd have been raped! I don't know why he did it ... but he sure did one hell of a favor for me! ... And what was it he told Debbie ... that he hadn't had a woman for over two years?! Then he forced himself to think about the present situation. Now Jack wants to fuck Debbie because he found out about Wanda and me ... I guess it's a sort of turnabout ... and I suppose he's right! He could be doing a lot more! People have been killed for doing the same thing!
Debbie couldn't believe how quickly she had been aroused by her husband's fingers squirming around inside her rectum, plus the stimulation of Jack Howard's hand that teased at her sensation-charged clitoris and Wanda's knowing manipulation of her breasts. She was already again, a seething volcano of salacious desire, and involuntarily her hips had begun to rock back and forth almost uncontrollably against their lewdly plundering hands. OOOooohhh! God, that feels so good! She knew now that there was only one answer she would give ... when she was asked.
"Well ... ask her!" Wanda said breathlessly. Down between her thighs, she was feeling that building warmth and the moist exudate of her own arousal.
"Okay, I will!" Bruce agreed suddenly. "Debbie ... do you want my boss here ... to ... to fuck you, too?"
"Yes, yes ... I do!" Her answer came back fast and sure. "I want both of you ... to fuck me!"
"At the same time...?" Bruce asked, dumbfounded by her positive answer.
"Yes, darling ... I want both your cocks ... fucking me ... at the same time!"
"You sure...?"
"Yes! Now ... put it in me ... back there ... if that's what you really want!" Somehow, she wanted the debasement of it ... wanted to experience it to the fullest, as she remembered how disappointed she had been when that escaped convict had pulled his finger out of her back passage ... too soon.
"You heard, her Bruce!" Jack grunted. "Shove it in that tight, little ass-hole!"
Using his hands, the tall redhead spread his wife's trembling buttocks wide apart to reveal the tiny orifice, and he felt her tensing, as she waited for him to make his lewd entrance into her.
"Relax, honey," Wanda Howard whispered into her ear. "You'll have to relax, so it won't hurt you..." Impulsively, Jack's black-haired wife kissed her.
Debbie had never been kissed like that before. The other woman's soft lips and moist tongue exploring her mouth was like no other kiss. She liked it, and after a moment she was responding, kissing her back.
... Then, she felt the blood-engorged head of her husband's fully hardened cock, pressing hard against the resilient orifice of her anus. God! She was scared ... but she made her decision. She wouldn't try to back out of it now. OOOoooh! It's starting to hurt! I can feel it stretching! OOOOOOoooooohhhh!
With a sudden flexing thrust of his hips, then, Bruce shoved the throbbing head of his cock up into her gently pulsing anus. He felt it pop through the stretched ring of muscle. Damn! She's tight! Perspiration popped out on his brow with the effort he was expending.
"OOOoooohhh!" Debbie moaned down into Wanda's mouth, and Jack's wife kissed her harder, her hands smoothing over the young blonde's breasts, making them tingle with the soft touch of her palms on the smooth, satiny flesh.
Bruce held quite still in her, feeling the tight sheath of her rectum squeezing around his bulbously throbbing cock-head. It excited him all the more, and when his penis expanded, jerking involuntarily it made him gasp with the pure pleasure of it.
"Christ!" Then, he had to have it in her the full length. He shoved hard, and the shaft of his cock disappeared another inch.
"Hurry up for Christ's sake!" Jack grated. "I can't wait any longer.
Harder yet, Bruce pushed, until finally, the full, lust-thickened length of his wildly pulsing cock was all the way up inside the spongy, smooth warmth of her tightly clenching rectum. He could feel the muscles contracting and relaxing around him, and it was driving him wild with erotic need. Experimentally, he pulled out a little way and then shoved it back in, glad that he had remembered to smear some saliva on the head of his cock before he tried putting it in her.
"Okay! It's in! Turn her over, now!" Jack panted, as his hand went down to grasp the throbbing shaft of his cock that had begun to ache painfully.
Wanda scrambled to the side out of the way, as Bruce wrapped his arms around his wife's trembling body and flopped over to his side, keeping her in the same relative position; then, he rolled over to his back, hauling her up on top of him, his cock still goring deep up into her rear passage.
As Debbie's legs splayed obscenely, Jack Howard was over them instantly, wedging his hips up between the softly tapering flesh of her thighs, his hand guiding the lust-inflated head of his cock to the moist pink slit of her cuntal opening. With no further ado, he rammed into her, his hardened shaft soaring deep, all the way to the base of it, in one smooth, cunt-spreading thrust.
"Ooh, my God!" Debbie wailed. "Oh, my Godddd!"
... And, then everything became jumbled in her mind. She was being fucked, as she had never before been fucked. Above her, Jack
Howard was plunging in and out of her searing hot cunt like an insane man; while below, her husband Bruce was jack-hammering up into the nerve-sensitive sheath of her rectum.
All the while, lewd sensations of desire chased themselves through her, as her senses dimmed and she gave herself over to the complete enjoyment of it. God! I feel like they 're tearing me apart ... but I don't care! I don't care ... because it feels so good!
Wanda, watching both her virile men, as they slaved away fucking Bruce's young bride, couldn't wait. She had to be a part of it, too; the building passion within her had to be satisfied, and there was only one way. Her hand went down to her loins, her finger going into the female slit to find her erect clitoris, to caress massagingly. She masturbated often, and she liked it, but then, she wondered: Damn! Debbie's really in it ... doing everything! Maybe, she'd do that, too!
Suddenly, the young blonde was staring up through passion-dimmed eyes into the coral-pink pussy of Jack Howard's wife, the tiny, flowered open cunt-folds glistening dully with viscid moisture. Wanda had straddled her head where it rested in the hollow of her husband's neck, and as she poised there above Debbie's lust-distorted mouth, she murmured, "Lick me, Debbie! Eat my cunt ... Honey...! " .
In her present state of mind, Debbie was in a world of sex and sensation, as her whole body and her mind, now responded wildly to every new thrill. Without hesitation or reservation, her tiny, pink tongue shot out to make electrifying contact with the older woman's pulsingly hard clitoris. Greedily she licked at it, as below, Jack and Bruce surged in and out of both her pelvic openings. She was filled to absolute capacity with plundering cocks ... and now she was bringing yet another dimension to her love-making as she began thrusting her tongue in and out of Wanda's yearning hot cunt.
Faster, deeper and harder the two men plunged into her, as she lay helplessly sandwiched between them, and her whole world, she sensed, was going to come to an end soon. She felt her explosive climax coming, and she was a little disappointed that it couldn't keep going on and on, forever.
Beneath her, his burning cock working deep into the moist dark warmth of her rectum, Bruce felt the burning hot sear of impending ejaculation, and he bucked upward against her to drive his lustfully expanding cock deeper yet. He felt her loins moving between them, fucking them both back, furiously. God! It felt good. I've never had anything like this! Then, he was cumming. He slammed up into his wife's rectum hard, and his cock was spewing his lewd sperm into the spongy depths of her back passage. He groaned with the satisfying sensation. "AAAaaauugh! Christ! That's good!"
Debbie felt the expanding shaft of his cock, as her husband's semen jetted into her, while almost at the same time, she felt the convulsive beginnings of her own orgasm. Then, it was there for her. She soared upward rocket-like, her orgasmic release describing a parabola of heightening sensation on the way up, until at the apogee, she felt as though she could have gone into orbit, but then as gravity pulled her back towards the earth, she was there again on the bed sandwiched between her husband on the bottom, his cock still pumping his cum frantically up into her, and her husband's boss slamming his massive penis deep into her hungrily nibbling cunt in insanely pistoning strokes like a pile-driver run amok. Instinctively, she was tonguing in and out of Wanda's steaming cunt above her in tempo with Jack's plundering cock in her own wildly clasping cunt. She couldn't scream aloud. Her mouth was too busy.
... Then, with a throaty scream, Wanda came. "AAAaaauugh! Goddd! I'm cumming! I'm cumming! AAAAAaaauuugh!" Great, convulsive shudders lanced through her body, and with a mewling moan, she pitched forward, curling her body on the bed, as she quivered with her release.
Finally, then, Jack Howard was there, too. He came in great hosing streams of white-hot viscous semen, his cock expanding rhythmically as it was shot deep into the young bride's clinging cuntal passage. With a grunt of satisfaction he collapsed pantingly on top of her, his legs straightening out, and he lay there heavily like a log.
Each of the four was lost in his or her deep enjoyment of their orgiastic sexual union, and the only sound for a few moments was the rasp of breath in four pairs of tortured lungs.
After a while, they stirred. Jack rolled off from on top of Bruce's wife and stretched out full length, his hand going out to cup the convulsively heaving mound of one of his wife Wanda's breasts.
Bruce squirmed from under his wife and took her solidly in his arms. He kissed her tenderly. "I love you ... darling..." he whispered.
"I love you, too, Sweetheart!" she murmured.
Later, Jack made highballs and served them. Then, they talked ... for a long time. Wanda was the one who suggested that since they had learned how much fun it was to make love in a group that they should do it again ... and often.
Debbie surprised her husband by agreeing almost instantly. He tried to take exception, but she answered, "After all this ... darling ... I don't think that one man could keep me satisfied!"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Suddenly, Debbie remembered those two convicts. "Shouldn't we call the police ... and report them...?" she asked.
"Who?" Bruce countered.
"Why, those two escaped convicts!"
"No, I don't think we should," Bruce said thoughtfully.
"But isn't it our duty ... ? " Wanda questioned.
"Yeah ... they broke in here, raped Debbie ... and that fat guy got killed," Jack added.
"...But, do you know why that black-haired guy, Grayson's his name, I think ... do you know why he killed him...?"
"No!" Jack and Wanda chorused.
Bruce explained it. "The guy was a fag. I was all tied up on the floor there, with my ass up ... and that guy was going to bugger me! That's when Grayson stuck the knife in him!"
"That's true..." Debbie agreed.
"So, I figure I owe the guy something for saving me from that!" Bruce concluded.
"That reminds me," Jack put in, "we keep reading in the papers about the need for prison reform ... and I guess this's a good example. I understand that the jails and prisons are just loaded with queers..."
"So it would seem..." Bruce agreed. "Say, how about a refill on these drinks, Jack ... then
I'll get back to my honeymooning!" He was willing to forget about the two escapees.
"Okay ... but how would you like a couple of chaperones?"
"Suits me!" Bruce grinned looking across at Wanda. "What about you, Debbie...?"
"Like I was saying ... I wouldn't have it any other way!" she told her husband with firm conviction.
* * *
Grayson Wright and Ralph Dickson had dumped Jerry Sweeney's corpse into a deep canyon on their way down the mountain. As they had stood there watching the great mound of dead flesh roll down the hillside, Grayson reached into his pocket took out the .38 special, wiped it clean of his fingerprints and tossed it after the fat queen's body. Similarly, he did the same thing for the steak knife he had used to kill the man.
"Well ... maybe they won't find him for a while..." Ralph grunted, relieved that they were finally shed of the fat man.
"Yeah, I sure as hell hope so!" Grayson murmured. "What say we head for Mexico ... instead of L. A."
"Sure, I'm game! Let's go!"
They were on highway 395 headed south and were just beyond Temecula, when the black and white California Highway Patrol unit pulled them over to the side of the road.
As the Highway Patrolmen was walking up to their car cautiously, Wright said, "I suppose they've got a make on this car."
"Yeah ... we kept it too long!" Ralph agreed. "It looks like it's back to Queensville for us!"
"It's more like San Quentin ... isn't it?" Grayson grinned. He had to grin with the humor of it to keep from crying!
