Wendy's mother felt a hot burst of desire for her daughter. The teen's breasts seemed very large in the propping, black corset. Her cleavage was huge. Her torso tapered to an almost microscopic waist. Her hips swelled out in full, sweeping beauty. The fish-net stockings stretched tightly across her young legs.
The fourteen-year old girl looked like a high-priced call girl. Her mother had prepared the virgin girl for her brutal lover. He had wanted the teen ever since he had fucked her mother raw and bloody.
Stan grabbed her and in three, short minutes had the sweet tiring bound, and gagged in the motel room's large double bed.
He ripped the teen's red panties away from her quivering thighs. He began to fondle the soft folds of skin behind her sweet, golden bush.
He opened the tight, folds of skin and with his thumb and index finger, he opened her virgin pussy and exposed her young vagina. He looked on the beautiful twat and his mouth watered. He stooped down and gave her little bush a long, wet kiss.
He held two, long black, rubber things in his hands. With the largest one in one hand, he smiled at the terrified teen.
"I have a present for you, now! Are you ready?"
He laughed wildly and nestled the inhuman thing in the soft entrance folds of the sweet pussy. He prepared to ram her hard when her wretched mother rose from the floor.
"Get away from my daughter!" she screamed.
Stan dispatched her with a swift slap. He returned to his work.
Wendy writhed in agony. Her mother had betrayed her for the cruel man who laughed wildly above her.
CHAPTER ONE
"Will that be all, Mrs. Withers?" asked the man on the other side of the counter.
The woman continued to stare off into space. The man was patient with most of his customers. He figured that was the key to success in his business.
His name was Stan Scott. He ran one of the only small grocery stores in the small town. He had a lot of competition with the big supermarket in the mall outside of town. That's where most of the townspeople did their shopping.
The only time they usually came to 'Scotty's' was when they needed something in a hurry. A fast quart of milk or loaf of bread. Maybe some ice cream for the kids or just a six pack of beer for dear old Dad.
Whatever the reason, Stan didn't mind, his small store a short order place. He provided his customers quality merchandise. Of course, they had to pay premium prices. There was no way out of that.
Stan figured that anyone who was a regular customer deserved consideration.
He gave it too!
Mrs., Withers was a good customer. She only had one child. It was a daughter. Her name was Wendy. She was a beautiful, young woman. At the tender age of fourteen her body was almost fully developed.
Stan would never admit it to anyone but he always fell himself get hard when that sweet, little girl came into the store. Wendy was a younger version of her mother.
"Will that be all?" he repeated to the absent-minded woman on the other side of the counter.
She finally returned to the here and now. "Oh, yes! That's all! Thank you, Stan. How much will that be, please?"
Stan already had it all figured up. He was good at figures.
"Sixteen dollars and thirty-four cents," he replied. "I think I have the exact change, Stan. Hold it a minute."
The attractive woman probed the interior of the small, change purse she held in her hand. Stan admired the woman from the other side of the counter.
Joan Withers was a very attractive woman. She was very slender and had the figure of a nineteen-year old girl. It was natural to her. She never dieted or worried about what she ate. She had good eating habits anyway. Everything about the woman was very neat. She spent a lot of time on her appearance. It wasn't that she was vain. She was just very feminine.
Stan looked the woman over. She always looked so clean to him. That's what turned him on about her. He would never admit it to anyone, especially his wife, but he would love to eat out Mrs. Withers. He was sure her bush was clean and sweet. It was only logical.
How would it be possible for such a well kept woman to have a stinking pussy? 'Highly un-likely,' he said to himself.
Joan stood about five feet three inches in height. Stan estimated her weight to be around one hundred pounds.
She always dressed very plain. But the simplicity of her appearance only added to her elegance. On that particular afternoon, she wore tight-fitting jeans that were neatly pressed, a trim, black, cotton, turtle neck top, and a waist length suede jacket. She also wore neatly polished, brown boots.
None of the clothes she wore were expensive. She just knew how to dress. She also was quite good with a needle and thread. In fact, she did a lot of sewing. It wasn't that she needed the money so bad. Her husband, Bill, made a modest yet comfortable living. He owned his own auto repairs shop. It seemed that all he did was work. He never went anywhere. He never did anything, except work.
He would always promise Joan and Wendy that he would take them to different places, but he never did. It was quite easy for him to understand. The work had to be done. He was the only one who could do it properly.
His job was his whole life. Even on weekends, he'd be at the shop. It was a constant thing. Joan and her daughter had gotten used to it. It was a way of life.
But the fact that he was never around made Joan increasingly restless. She was a good wife but she needed companionship. She longed to have a man take her places, treat her nice and tend to her female needs. Bill was a good husband. He would give most of his money to his wife. She'd pay the bills and decide what money went where. Bill was the classic "good provider." But when it came to anything else, he couldn't be bothered. It was quite a job to get him to go to Wendy's graduation from junior high school. Work was his obsession. That was all he thought about.
But it wasn't all Mrs. Withers thought about. Lately, she had been thinking about other men. She had a "healthy sex life" with her husband. That couldn't be denied.
But it had been becoming intensely boring. When he wanted to screw, it was just a quick couple of humps, a groan, and a silent glob of come shot from his prick. The couple had come to view sex as not the exciting thing they had once known it to be. It had been reduced to a mere "bodily act." For Bill Withers, it wasn't far from burping.
It honestly was a waste. Joan's breasts were not huge, but they were big enough to straddle a large sized penis. Her waistline rivaled the hot, little teens of the town and her hips, legs and ass were trim and firm. She had a figure that could be described as "imperially thin."
Her hair was brown and almost straight. It had a lot of natural body to it though. It stood fully on her head. Her brown eyes flashed up towards Stan Scott when she finally counted out the exact change of her bill.
"Here you go, Stan. Sixteen dollars and thirty four cents."
She handed the money to him and smiled. Stan was quite handsome.
Although he was married to an old hag, had four boys and his own grocery store, he still looked unruffled and calm. Joan always liked that about Stan. Maybe that was the reason she was such a good customer. Stan kind of reassured her that everything was, right with the world.
Stan took the exact amount from the woman and gave her a polite "Thank You." He looked at her fine body. He surely wanted her alright.
Stan seldom fooled around. It was uncommon for him to make a play for a local woman. Especially, if she was a customer.
But there was something about Mrs. Withers that really turned him on. She seemed to be fair game. He wondered if he was just imagining it. She seemed to give off a sensual kind of vibration. He felt strongly attracted to her. The way she smiled and lowered her head when he made a joke made his prick wiggle beneath his white pants and apron. Stan always thought about balling Mrs. Withers. In fact, there would be times when he was giving it to his wife, and he'd be thinking it was Mrs. Withers.
The woman lifted the two large bags of groceries from the counter. They were quite heavy. She struggled with them silently.
Stan usually had a boy working at his store. The youngster would help carry packages. That day the boy didn't come. Stan was "making due."
He quickly moved around to the front of the counter.
"Here! Let me help you with these!"
He was so noble! "Oh, thank you, Stan," replied Mrs. Withers.
Stan carried the packages to the door. He really couldn't go any further. Or could he?
"These are quite heavy, Mrs. Withers! Let me carry them home for you!"
Stan was being "nice." In reality, he was acting out his horniness.
"But what about the store?" Joan queried.
"Don't worry about that. I'll just lock up for a couple of minutes. How many customers could I lose anyway? I'll only be gone a few minutes."
The decision had been made. Stan Scott was going to carry Mrs. Withers' groceries to her home.
He laid down the two, large, brown bags by the front door of the store. From his belt, he located a large, dark silver key. He pressed it into the lock on the door and turned the tumbler. When he had completed his small task, he turned to Mrs. Withers. "Okay. We are off!"
The two adults walked down the street. Stan had left his apron back on the counter of the locked store. He heartily carried the large, brown bags. They only had a short walk. The Withers' lived only a few blocks from "Scotty's."
The houses they passed were old, wooden and sat neatly on small plots of land.
Winstone, Maine was a typical small, New England town.
The population of Winstone was around fifty-thousand. Most of the people living there worked at low paying, blue-collar, type jobs. There was a factory that made shoes, a small cluster of office buildings and three or four shopping centers. It was true "Americana."
Mrs. Withers and her grocer, turned the corner and began to walk down a quiet, tree-lined street.
"Well, Stan," Mrs. Withers said, Here's my block. I'll take over from here."
She reached for the bags.
Stan didn't want to go back to his store.
"Oh, no. I'll carry them all the way home for you."
Joan accepted his words. They walked on silently. Stan broke the silence.
"I didn't know you lived on Chestnut Street. This is a nice little block!"
Joan began to sense Stan coming on to her. She didn't resist him. She felt flattered. They stopped in front of the woman's home.
Joan looked at him and smiled. He stood there with the packages in his hand. She sensed that the next move was hers. She looked up and down the block. It was a very respectable scene, indeed. But she suddenly began to feel like she was beginning to do something wrong. She seldom felt that way. Once in a great while when a guy gave her the eye and she gave it back, the feeling would come. She had never fooled around. But she had flirted from time to time. To her, that was dangerous. She was a conservative woman.
She spoke. "Well, you insisted on carrying my packages all the way home for me. You might as well bring them into the house."
She began to feel a warm glow in her crotch. She knew that her husband would not be home until late that night. She also knew that her daughter had a "4H Club" meeting that afternoon. She would not be home until dinner time. The next three hours were hers to do with what she pleased! The thought frightened her. She could do anything she wanted. Stan carried the packages up to the large, wooden porch. Joan walked ahead of him. He watched her sweet ass move gracefully as she bounded up the stairs to hold the screen door open for her noble guest. He entered the house directly.
Joan directed him into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the red-checkered tablecloth that was draped over the circular, wooden table that stood in the middle of the room.
He backed away from his handiwork, out his hands on his waist and smiled. He felt his joint hardening. He hoped that she didn't see it.
Joan looked at him, and then at the two packages sitting mutely on the table. "Well, you might as well help me put the stuff away!"
She didn't want him to go. The calm, secure feeling he gave her began to make the glow in her crotch even warmer.
Neither of them spoke as they worked. He would hand her items that he knew belonged in the refrigerator, and stack the rest in a neat pile on the table. Each of them wondered what was to happen next. They were both nervous.
Absent-mindedly, Stan handed a small jar of mustard to Joan. She was stooping over on the other side of the refrigerator door.
He heard her laugh. "Stan! I'm surprised at you! Here you are! The owner of a grocery store, and you hand me a jar of mustard for the refrigerator! Tsk, tsk. You should be ashamed of yourself!"
She walked around the open door and accidentally brushed against Stan's body. His prick was getting really hard.
The sensuality of the environment seemed in control now. Stan put his hand on Joan's tiny waist and pulled her body close to his.
"I'm sorry about the mustard. It's just that when I'm with you it isn't important."
She looked him squarely in the eye. They both knew what was about to happen. They had covered a lot of ground before they had reached that moment. Years of remarks, glances, smiles and sexual innuendos had led them to where they presently. It was the moment of truth.
She rested her hands on his. With a flick of the wrist, she would reject him, he would be gone and both of them would never mention it to a living soul. The incident would be nothing more than a random pass made by a man to a woman. She made her decision. This was going to be the real thing.
She waited for him to kiss her. For a long moment, they just stood there in that small kitchen. The refrigerator was still open and the empty, large, brown bags rested temporarily on the floor of-the room.
Tenderly, their lips met. The kiss was long, soft and sensuous.
Joan exhaled deeply. She stood on her tip-toes. Her arms closed around Stan's neck. It was a passionate moment. He began to squeeze her tighter and tighter. The warm passion that flowed between them was beginning to turn to hot lust.
Abruptly, she pulled her lips and body from his. She closed the refrigerator door and leaned against it. The heat from her glowing bush was rising fast. She was very serious. She wanted to make love to this handsome man standing before her. She rubbed her knee against her flushed thigh.
Her course became clear to her.
In a long stride, she reached the back door. She locked it. She turned back to Stan. He stood there with his prick bursting through his pants. Joan was looking better and better to him with each passing second.
She walked up to him. She grasped each of his hands and stared intensely into his eyes. She moved away from him again, but this time in the direction of the wall staircase in the house's center hallway. Her clasping hands pulled Stan along with her. She moved backwards. When they got to the staircase, she paused. After another long glance, she pulled him close to her.
He broke free from her gentle grip, closed his right arm around her shoulder and began to ascend the stairs, with the curvaceous woman at his side.
When they got to the top, he hesitated. She would decide what bedroom would be the locale for their lustings.
She pulled him into the master bedroom. On the dresser on the room stood her wedding picture. They saw it together. She went to it and slowly laid it on its face. She strode to the curtained window and pulled down the yellow shade. The sun still shone through, but the room was partially dark. She stood by the window. She looked outside.
"Is this safe?" Stan asked anxiously. "I mean can you husband come home early or anything?"
Joan looked at him and gasped. She knew his feelings. She was having the exact same ones at that moment. She was very sure that her husband would not be home until late. He'd been living this schedule for years. But a double check wouldn't hurt. Especially, for what was about to happen in her marriage bed.
She lifted the black telephone that rested on the small table at the side of the bed. Slowly, she dialed. After a pause, she began to speak into the receiver.
"Yes! This is Mrs. Withers. Could I speak to my husband?"
She paused again and looked directly at Stan. They wanted each other's body with a driving hunger now.
"Hi Bill! How's it going?" Stan heard the faint sounds of a man's voice. It scared him. He had never met Bill Withers but he figured that he must be pretty strong to own his own auto repairs shop.
"You'll be home late tonight?" Joan continued. "Okay. I'll see you then. Right. I'll have dinner ready. Okay. See you then. I love you too. Bye"
Joan lowered the receiver from her ear and gently placed it back on the resting phone. "It's okay."
She just stood there. It was his move now. He was nervous. But he figured he would blow the whole scene if he showed it. He had to act confident. He managed to still the doubts in his mind and concentrate on the foxy lady in front of him. He went to her.
They kissed again. He lowered her to the bed. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. He pulled away from her.
"What about your daughter? Shouldn't she be home from school soon?"
Joan quietly assured him that she would not. "She's got a 4-H Club meeting this afternoon. She never misses those. She won't be home until suppertime."
Stan glanced at the radio-alarm on the other side of the bed. It was two-thirty. His store was closed. He would probably lose a few sales, but that was okay. His wife would never know where he was. He was safe.
They began to relax with their infidelities. He kissed her softly and stroked her gently, brown hair. He looked into her eyes. There was no need to speak. He ran his long arm down the full length of her torso. He rested it on her quivering thigh.
She began to breath deeper as they kissed. Her passions were beginning to make her pussy squirm.
She felt his rock hard prick. It was pressed firmly against his loose-fitting white, work pants. The joint within began to rub at her thigh. He lifted his body from her side, and then lowered it right on top of her. Her legs and arms opened in welcome.
There were to be no tricks here.
Their bodies began to move rhythmically on the bed. They combined weight created a hot valley in the center of the straining mattress.
Joan began to run her fingers through his full-bodied blonde hair. His six-four, thin frame began to pump above her. He began to drill his thing into her humid crotch. But they were still dressed.
Joan pulled away from him. She stood up erect at the side of the bed. He slowly lunged for her. She back away and began to speak in hot, business-like terms.
"Let's do this right, if we are going to do it at all!"
She began to undress.
She stooped down and unzipped her brown boots. She slipped them off over her small, trim feet. Next came her jeans. She opened the snap clasp at the top and opened the zipper. Her thin fingers grasped the top of them and she began to shimmy them over her round, soft, swelling hips. She wore tight black bikini underpants. She turned a bit as she stepped out of her jeans. Stan's mouth dropped open when he saw her round, delicious ass. It was firm, young and erect.
Next came her turtle neck top. She lifted it up to show the soft, supple skin of her stomach and lower abdomen. Her stomach rested in the center of it. It was round and small. It curved down into the mysteries that hid behind her tight, bikini panties.
When she had gotten that off, she stood there in her bra and panties. Her slenderness was a joy to behold. Stan's old lady was fat and haggard. But Joan was perfect. For a women with a fourteen-year-old-daughter, Joan was phenomenal, in fact.
Her thin waist held the soft buns of her soft, yet full breasts to her curvaceous hips with the ease of an hour-glass. Her brown hair rested gently on her soft, shoulders.
She looked down at him on the bed. He had been watching her take her clothes off with sexual fascination. In front of him stood one of his customers! She had undergone quite a transformation.
From the reserved, elegant mother, she had changed into a passionate, sensual woman. She was being completely honest with her own desires.
"Well?" she asked. "What are you waiting for?"
Stan rose from the bed and had his clothes off in less than a minute. He was clad only in white, briefs when he went to her.
They kissed. Stan lowered her to the bed again. They would not rise from it for some time.
He rolled onto her. She could feel his bulging prick pressing against her sheer panties. She closed her arms around his back. Her nervous, exploring fingers slipped beneath the elastic band on his briefs. She exhaled deeply, when she felt his muscular, hairy buttocks.
He began to feel himself overwhelmed by his passion. He moved his arm around the back of her bra and opened the clip. He lifted it away from her and let it drop to the floor. He caressed each of her breasts. His face lowered from her face and began to kiss her neck. He lifted his whole body from her and rested his head right on her breasts. He began to suck and tongue them. They responded warmly to the gentle, licking tongue. He felt her nipples harden and stick out straight. He sucked at them with an increasing passion. Her body began to grind beneath him.
His left hand ran down her bare, supple stomach and disappeared beneath her tight panties. He felt a sharp clot of scum shoot from his joint as he closed his open hand on the woman's gaping cunt bone.
With a tremendous effort, he managed to control his coming orgasm. His two large hands closed on the top of her panties. In sweeping, grand motion he pulled them from her body and dropped them to the floor. His hand returned to the wet warmth of her furry twat. It was grinding right into his hand now. She was ready for a stiff prick!
He felt his hand getting wetter and wetter as her lubricating pussy juice began to flow. Her legs opened completely and began to kick feverishly at thin air. She was a sexual animal now. She knew what she was doing. Her growing frenzy was pure joy.
She reached down for his cock. It was hot, and jagged. She clutched at it. She was unable to close her whole fist around it. Its size thrilled her. She felt the blood rushing in it and knew it was loaded with hot, shooting scum.
Her moving fingers ran to the base of his fearsome prick. She caressed his swollen balls with a feminine warmth. She knew that his sack was the supplier of all the hot, white scum that boiled in her twat. She felt a sudden urge to suck them in her adoring mouth.
Stan rose from her and rested on his knees. He quickly took his brief from his hairy, muscular body. He returned to her completely naked. The couple were ready to explore each other's body without the encumbrance of clothing.
His masculine passion rose to the fore. He had to have that woman immediately. He felt suddenly strong and virile. He felt a tremendous violence welling up inside of him. He would release it into the soft, loving female below him.
He would give it to her in sharp, concentrated jolts. He would render her helpless. She would be overwhelmed by the power of his shooting rod. It would send shivers through her body. She would know that she had been fucked by a man.
He rammed his fingers into her foaming cunt. She was lifting it up to his loving, masterful hands. He buried his hand into her black, hot hole. All that was visible were his knuckles.
Her body seemed to be totally in his control. His probing fingers, had rendered her a victim of her own ecstasy.
She clutched at the pleasure giving hand within her. Her face tensed. The skin of her forehead wrinkled with the tension of her growing pleasure. She felt her heart beating wildly. Her own orgasm was on the way. It would be unlike any she had ever had. Her mate's joint never could satisfy her the way Stan's hands were. She found it hard to imagine just how incredible his prick would feel.
Her legs were bent at the knee. Her whole body seethed with waves of hot pleasure. She was feverish and ready to be fucked.
Stan's hand was covered with the lubricating juice her twat gave off as a smooth welcome for its most welcome visitor.
He would ram her righteously!
"Give me your prick!" she whispered desperately. "Stick that hot thing right up my cunt!"
Her body twisted on his cunt-grabbing fist. She felt the strong muscles of his arm and chest. His chest was hairy. She tried to grab at his erect dangling cock, but it was too far from her. It turned her growing frustration into a crazed frenzy.
She demanded his prick. "Give it to me! Stick it in!"
He knew she was ready. He pulled away from her. Their bodies no longer touched at all. She sensed that his thing would be sliding into her pussy. She craved it. It would sooth her hungry snatch. Her orgasm was almost on her. She needed a prick within her to make it explode!
Her teeth were gritted. Her hair was all over her face. The supple muscles of her arms were tense and flexed. Her legs were open. Her grasping fingers pulled the red folds of her cunt apart. He could see the opening of her hole. It looked like it breathed heavy breathes. It opened and closed like an exposed organ. It was not complete. It had to be filled. The frenzied female was open to his shaft. He would give it to her!
He rested his left hand on the front of her cunt bone.
His open palm rested in a bed of hot, curling pubic hairs. His right hand closed on the base of his ten inch, throbbing staff. He positioned it directly above the gaping hole of her red cunt skin.
He lowered the thing to the opening. She felt it about to enter her. Her hands reached out behind her. She closed them around the brass bars of her headboard. She hoped for the best. She was going to get it!
He began to nuzzle the cap of his fierce, throbbing thing into the outer skin folds of her breathing cunt. She froze. She knew it was about to enter her. She knew it was very big. She hoped she could handle that thing!
Stan waited until his nuzzling prick had secured itself at the entrance to her hole. His body tensed and he gritted his teeth. His flesh bone was at the foot of her pussy door.
He slammed it open!
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned as the hot thing slid up her cunt cavity. It moved with silent fury. She clutched at the bars behind her. The size of his thing overwhelmed her whole body.
"I can't take much more," she screamed. "How much do you got?"
The disbelief in her voice was equalled to the pain.
His weapon of fuckery was merciless. On and on it moved. She felt it engulf every part of her inner body.
When he had given her its full length, he began to grind it even further. She felt herself swoon at the size, thickness, and power of the charging rod.
His hands suddenly clasped on her quivering buttocks. He began to grind his cock into her. His face contorted as he continued his sound fucking.
He began to lift up from her and ram her with his prick.. At first he did this very slowly. But in seconds, he was pumping at her twat with that heavy bone of his with a rising fury.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah!" she screamed. Her sexual sounds were in perfect rhythm. They fucked with a harmonious syncopation!
Her arms fell from the headboard behind her. She clawed at the back of the humping hulk above her. She opened her drooling mouth and closed it on the base of his neck. She sucked his skin with the fury of the way he humped her cunt.
Long thin droplets of saliva oozed from her open mouth. Soon the hair on his chest was sticky with it. Her whole body was soaked in cunt juice, sweat and her own saliva. She began to hump him back for the first time.
His prick had overwhelmed hear at first but not the tightly stretched walls of her inner canal had adjusted to the gigantic, gorging cock moving in its darkness with increasing speed.
Her own orgasm was close at hand. She began to groan like an animal. She felt like a woman being taken by a man's conquering cock. She hadn't felt like that way in years.
She loved the thing within her.
Stan lifted her legs higher on the rocking bed. He whacked that thing of his into her open twat. She gurgled in weakness.
He felt the juices within his pumping rod ready to shoot. He knew she was about to come. Could it happen to both of them at the same moment!
His hot come roared to the head of his driving prick. His tiny slit opened to release the shooting juice. It would begin to flow at the very next instant.
He moved his joint almost completely out of her. She lunged at him. He gave her a slamming hump sending his driving rod a full quarter inch further into her gaping hole. His cock and her twat exploded in a perfectly timed orgasm. They came together joyously!
Their bodies locked in a fuck hold. His cock shot his hot, scum deeply into her hole. Her cunt showered the shooting prick in warm bursts of loving gratitude. His come and her formed a perfect union in the darkness of her stretched pussy.
They sweated and groaned in harmony.
Waves of pleasure shook her body from her own orgasm. His shooting prick gave these waves added height. Bolts of joy shuddered through his body as he came. Her soft, coming cunt made them smoother and more full.
After their separate organs had spent their hot juices they rested.
Joan's first act of infidelity was so much more than she had ever hoped for. There would be many more. Many more.
CHAPTER TWO
After they dozed for fifteen minutes, Joan rose with a start. She had fucked another man in her marriage bed. She had to get him out of there.
"Come on, Stan! You have to go! It's getting late! My daughter will be home soon!"
She shoved him. "Get up!"
He stirred. "You know, Joan. Your daughter is beautiful. Is she still a virgin?"
The question shocked Joan. She became very angry. "Of course, 'She's still a virgin!'"
Stan began to laugh. Joan had never heard that laugh from him before. It possessed a sinister ring. It sounded like it came from a mean person. She was sure Stan wasn't a "mean person."
Stan rose from the bed and began to dress. He spoke to her in very lustful, not loving, tones. Joan was confused.
"Joan, honey. Let's do this together again real soon! You can really hump that sweet, little pussy of yours!"
Stan reached down on the bed and grabbed at her crotch abusively.
She recoiled from his clutching fingers. "Get out of her, you animal!"
Stan laughed heartily. "'Animal,' you call me! 'Animal?'"
He moved very close to her. His hand clasped around the back of her neck. "If either of us is an 'animal' honey, it's you! You were groaning like a bitch a couple of minutes ago! Or don't you remember? 'Animal!'"
He rose from the bed and completed dressing. He swaggered to the door. "I know my way out! I also know my way back in!" He slammed the door behind him. She heard him going down the stairs towards the door. "'Animal?' she calls me. "I'm an 'animal?' "
Something about his tone of voice and attitude frightened her. She had chosen to cheat on her husband with a man who had left her with scorning words and dark insinuations about the future.
She began to regret the act immediately. She wanted to forget it and act like it never happened. She made the ruffled bed and went into the bathroom for a long cleansing shower. She tried to wash away the memory of her act from her mind. She knew it was impossible but she tried anyway. Something about the way he had said "Animal," as he left frightened her. She began to wonder what he meant when he said that he knew the way "back into her house."
After she dried herself, she dressed. As she looked at the clock in the bedroom, she thought of what she was going to prepare for dinner.
Usually by that time of the day, she had dinner all planned out in her head. All she would have to do would be to prepare it. That was the easy part.
Thoughts of Stan's driving dick thrilled her while thoughts of his dark words filled her with a strange dread. Her imagination began to work on her concerns. Did he mean that he intended to come back to her whenever he wanted? Did he mean that he would take her only when he wanted to? Did she really sound "like a bitch" when he was making love to her?
Her mind was filled with thoughts that confused and perplexed her. She wondered one minute why she had ever let Stan take her to bed. Then she would realize that it was her who engineered the whole love feast.
Did he want Wendy to join them in a sexual triad? It sounded to Joan like that's what he wanted. The thought of it almost made her sick.
Joan Withers loved her daughter. Wendy was such a nice kid. She only hoped that when she grew up, she would meet a nice guy, get married and have a happy life. Joan figured that that was not too much to ask for her daughter.
It was getting close to six o'clock. Wendy would be home soon from her 4-H Club meeting. Joan rushed as she prepared dinner. The "bill of fare" for the evening was, meatloaf. Wendy and Bill liked the way she made it. It was nice to know that the two most important people in the world to her, enjoyed the way she cooked.
Suddenly though, Joan reconsidered her thought. Was Bill the most important person in the world to her? She had just cheated on him, and in the bed she slept with him too! Joan Withers was rapidly becoming a very confused woman.
At six o'clock young Wendy Withers bounded into the house. She was her usual self, very happy and gay. Aside from the deep love only a mother could have for a child, Joan truly enjoyed Wendy's company.
The healthy young teen always had something to say. It was usual about school or her friends. Joan would really get a kick out of the way Wendy would call this one a "creep" or that one a 'hunk." The two females would talk a lot.
"Hi, Mother!," Wendy said as she walked towards the refrigerator.
"Hi, yourself, Wendy," Joan said to her daughter. Her tone of voice was a little righteous and condescending, but it was all put on. They both knew it.
The main problem that Joan had with Wendy was the way they young girl would bring her down to the level of a teen. It was hard for dear old Mom to continually play that role. It even bored Joan. Being a mother and housewife could very stifling. That was the last thing Joan wanted to happen to her. She always wanted to be "with it."
Wendy was "with it." She knew all the youngsters in her entire school. She would phone calls constantly from her friends. Joan would literally have to pull the phone from the teen's hand.
That was alright though. Joan really didn't mind. She knew just how much young Wendy was enjoying life. Secretly, she envied her daughter.
The "Age of Discovery" was upon the young girl. Wendy had lost a touch of the wonderment of childhood, but at the same time, she had received the sensual awareness of a woman. The combination was hard to beat. On one hand Wendy felt the rushes of blissful childhood, and on the other, she felt the joys of young womanhood.
Wendy stooped over as she looked into the refrigerator. She was always looking in the refrigerator. It was like there was a secret treasure in there somewhere. It had to show up someday!
"What's for dinner, Mother?" Wendy asked.
Joan turned from the sink to look at her daughter. "Meatloaf! Your favorite! Your father likes it to."
Joan admired her daughter's round, young buttocks. As the young girl stooped over to search through the contents of the refrigerator, Her small waist and swelling hips were very clearly defined in the tight jeans she wore. Wendy had more than a "cute, little body."
Hers was exceptional. It reeked of youth. It had blossomed much earlier than her friends' bodies. She found herself being eyed by men in their twenties and thirties. They made her feel desirable. At the same time, they made her feel dirty. She didn't like they way they leered at her. The young teen felt as if they were undressing her with their eyes. It made her very uneasy. She would always walk past men on the street with her head held straight. She knew that she looked much older that her fourteen years. But at heart, Wendy Withers was still a baby. She was also a virgin.
She had heard about sex. She even used the word "Fuck," when she was with her friends. She had had her first period when she was thirteen. She knew about ovaries, and eggs and sperm. But the act itself was a mystery to her. When she wasn't feeing too good about herself or her blooming femininity, she would languish in the way she used to think babies were born. She knew that really wasn't the way after all.
A man would stick his penis inside a woman's vagina. A special, white liquid would come out of the man, and go up into the woman. Then, she would become pregnant. The pleasure attached to it was unknown to the young girl.
"Meatloaf?" she replied to her mother. "I hate meatloaf!"
Joan was confused. It seemed like only the other day, Wendy had complimented her on the tastiness of her meatloaf. Now she was claiming an aversion to it. Joan was confused.
It didn't last long though. An hour later, young Wendy, confirmed hater of meatloaf, was gorging herself with huge pieces of it.
"Hey!" her mother interrupted. "Your going to choke yourself, the way you eat that stuff. Eat slowly, and chew your food. I mean, it's not very lady-like the way you shove it down your throat."
Wendy tried to cool herself. She put her fork down and smiled at her mother. A funny look came over her face. She seemed to be bursting with inquiries about countless things.
"Mother, tell me about sex. Does a man really stick his penis into a woman's, well, you know, a woman's...."
The young girl. needed ' help. Mother came through. "Well, that's quite a question to be asking over a fine dinner. I'm just glad your father isn't home."
After Joan had finished her obligatory scolding, she tried to address herself to her daughter's question. "Well, a man does place his penis into a woman's, vagina. He deposits sperm there and it travels up to the woman's ovaries."
Joan sensed her daughter impatience. Wendy had had enough clinical definitions of sex. She wanted her mother to get down to the real "nitty gritty" with her.
"What's the matter, dear? Isn't this what you want to know?"
Mrs. Withers was confused again. Young Wendy fidgeted at her seat. She wasn't getting what she wanted from her mother.
"Ma! Ma! I know all about this stuff! Tell me the real stuff! Does it feel good? Do you want to do it all the time, or just once in a while?"
Young Wendy's unabashed curiosity made Mrs. Withers very nervous. The woman seldom spoke of sex to anyone. She believed that it wasn't proper to speak of it. She would rather just do it.
Bill Withers didn't know how lucky he was in this regard. Never would his wife, Joan, put him a long series of questions about the sex act. He never had to scratch his head and search for answers to questions like, "Did you like that?"
"Did I satisfy you?"
"Did the earth move?"
Joan just never asked those questions. She thought that they only took the spontaneity out of the sex act. To talk about it would be to ruin it. It was better that way. At least, for her it was better. That would change soon.
But here was her daughter asking all the questions she never asked. Aside from making Joan nervous, it kind of angered her. These things were better left unsaid. So why, was her daughter asking them?
She took a firm grip on herself. She wanted to help her daughter.
"Yes, Wendy, it feels very good. I don't think I can answer the second part of your question. That depends on the person."
Wendy wasn't satisfied. "Well, right about with you and Dad? You can tell me about that, can't you?"
Joan Withers was shocked. What Wendy was asking was impertinent and bold. She was hitting too close to home.
"What you're asking is a private matter between a wife and her husband. You will find out the answers for all of your questions soon enough! For the time being, eat your supper! And eat slowly!"
The case was closed.
They continued their dinner and spoke of safer things. How was school? How was she getting along with her teachers? and finally, "How was her school work?"
Joan knew that her daughter was a pretty good student in school. The girl was weak in science and Math class but that was understandable. Girls usually were weak in those subjects..
Wendy was well--liked by all of her teachers.
The one who paid the most attention to young Wendy was Mr. Abrams. He had told Joan that young Wendy had real literary talent. The girl had already written several poems for the Winstone High Yearbook.
Mr. Abrams spent a lot of time with Wendy. Joan never once suspected that Mr. Abrams' interest in her daughter went beyond academic pursuits. Mr. Abrams was as horny as hell and coveted Wendy's young body. The man never took his jacket off when she was with him after school. A stiff boner would throb under his pants, and he didn't want young Wendy to see it. He really had the "hots" for the young girl.
He was not alone. Many of the men of the small town would have loved to ram their things into the lovely openings of the young girl.
Many times, Wendy would have to repeat questions when she was with Mr. Abrams. He seemed incapable of concentrating on his work.
He made the same mistake over and over again. He would always say that, "Beauty was beauty and truth was truth." Wendy would say that he was mixing it up and Mr. Abrams would seem off somewhere else. She couldn't understand it. In class, Mr. Abrams was terrific. His lectures were full of life. He would make different references to different works all the time. Wendy always took notes. Even when she didn't have to. She'd copy down the names of books and try to read them all. But it was so hard. The books Mr. Abrams spoke of were often very difficult to understand. She'd try anyway. As long as he encouraged her, she'd try.
But he still would make that same mistake over and over again. Wendy would correct him on that. She didn't like to correct him, though. It kind of made her feel bad. How could she correct the man who was teaching her so much. She had the utmost respect for him. Little did she know of the evil designs he had for her sweet, round body. He would have loved to ram her.
Secretly, Mr. Abrams was a lech. He'd masturbate to the cheap pornographic magazines he'd buy. Never would he make his dubious purchases in Winstone, however. It would be highly embarrassing and might even put his teaching position in danger. If some horny Freshman saw a teacher buying dirty books, it would be all over town in a few days. Mr. Abrams was aware of his constitutional rights but he also knew what was good for him.
After dinner that evening, Joan and her daughter did the dishes. Joan would wash and Wendy would dry. It didn't take too long. Only two had eaten. That's the way it usually was.
Joan would keep the oven lit. Her husband would be home around nine o'clock. He would expect his dinner to be ready right after he washed up.
Bill Withers could never get his hands completely clean. He used this very strong cleansing agent before he left the shop. It took off most of the day's oil stains and dirt. But his hands never were completely cleansed. Then he'd come home and wash up again. That didn't work either. He had created his own standards for cleanliness.
He knew when he was clean and when he was not. To most everyone he looked dirty all the time. But that was "an occupational hazard." He could not avoid it.
He was a real "working class hero." He was almost proud of the ground-in dirt that covered his hands. It attested to his worth as a citizen and a man. He was a productive member of society, who was independent. He was "his own man." He wasn't a heavy drinker, smoker or woman-chaser. Work was his thing. It would be the thing that would get him into heaven and purge him of all inadequacies. Quite simply, Bill Withers hid behind his occupation. Work was all.
He arrived home around nine-thirty that night. Joan saw the lights from the car move slowly down the driveway. She placed her sewing on the hassock next to her and walked to the back door to greet her man.
He walked in and exhaled heavily. "Sorry, I'm late honey. I got held up a bit. I'll tell you, the work never stops down there. What the hell. Maybe some day we will be rich. But wow, the work never stops!"
Joan remarked with a slight tinge of arrogance, "I know, dear. It's a hard life. How do we ever get by."
Bill Withers didn't like that. Immediately, his boss-man indignation well up within him. "What do you mean by that remark! I work fifteen hours everyday and you have the nerve to give me that kind of grief!"
Joan knew she was wrong. Her adulterous act of the afternoon left her a bit nasty. "I'm sorry, honey. It's just that you are away so much. I never get a chance to see you. We never spend any time together. How I wish we could take a vacation. Let's go somewhere, soon! Really, wouldn't it by nice if we could go to Canada for a week. We'd take Wendy. It would be nice!"
Bill looked at her. "Can I have my supper please? I'm hungry! Is there anything on television, tonight? Any movies?"
He'd always ask his wife these kinds of questions. Sometimes all they had in common was the shared experience of watching television together. Theirs was a typical, American marriage.
She placed his dinner before him. "Alright, meatloaf! Got any bread?" He started to get very playful. "I want bread. I want bread!"
He banged the base of his knife and fork on the table. He got a kick out of that and laughed heartily. So did Joan. She liked her husband, but he was becoming a smaller figure in her life. He had cancelled himself out of her daily existence. He was never around.
She always knew where he was. But he was never around. "So go ahead and eat it, you animal!"
As she said the words jokingly to her husband, she thought of what Stan had said to her earlier that day. Was she really the animal after all? Was she really the hot, fucky bitch he had implied she was. Only time would tell her that.
He rose from the table after he had eaten. Into the living room he lumbered. He was a strongly built man. His body was thick and hard. The only part of his body that was soft was his stomach. It was also getting bigger with each passing day. He drank too much beer. It didn't matter to him though. He liked it. That was all that was important.
He also viewed dieting as something less than manly. It showed vanity and vanity was for women, not men.
"Get me a cold beer. I'm thirsty."
She knew that he would want one and had already poured it for him. As he spoke the words, she walked through the kitchen's doorway and handed it to him.
"Now, that's service! Huh!"
Bill pulled his wife onto his lap. Wendy sat close by and smiled. "What are you doing to my mother, you big bully?"
The three of them laughed and shared their warm feelings for one another. It was a rare event in that home. Most of the time, Bill Withers would carry on his harried work attitude. He would made Wendy and her mother feel like he'd been working in some Siberian salt mine. It was usually very depressing.
But that night was different. It didn't last long however. Bill soon fell off to sleep. The couch was usually the place. The man would make it the ending of the News on television. Right after that he began to fight onrushing sleep. He never won.
Soon, he'd be snoring away. Joan would wake him about twelve and the two of them would walk up the stairs and into their bedroom. They would be asleep for the night in a matter of minutes.
The next morning was routine. Bill would be up and gone by seven o'clock. Joan would be up by then. Bill would get his own breakfast at the diner near his shop. After Wendy had dressed for school, she would bound down the stairs and head for the kitchen. She'd always find there a bowl of cereal, a glass of orange juice and toast. The school bus always seemed to arrive to the Withers' home just as Wendy would be finishing her breakfast. The young girl would jump from her seat when she heard the horn from the bus. She'd give her mother a kiss and speed out the door. This morning was like any morning. With one exception.
Right after breakfast, she got a phone call. It was Stan Scott.
"Hello, Joan. How are you?"
His voice sounded calm and friendly. That was the way Joan always interpreted his voice. "Oh, hello Stan! I'm fine! How are you?"
They both knew why he was calling. A long pause followed their forced amenities. Stan finally spoke.
"I really enjoyed yesterday. Hey, I'm-sorry for the way I acted after we were, finished. I'm sorry."
He honestly sounded remorseful. Joan was easily duped. "Oh, that's okay. Don't worry about it!"
The funny thing here was the fact that he wasn't worrying about what he had said. She was!
Stan made his play. "I'd like to come over this afternoon for awhile. That is, if you don't mind. I wouldn't want to disturb your day or anything."
He was being cloyingly kind. It was a poor performance but strong enough to convince Joan.
"I don't know. I mean, I didn't think this would happen in the first place. Now that it has I don't know what to do."
Stan became even more reassuring. "I come over around two-thirty, just to talk. Don't worry. Everything's fine!"
Joan felt that glow begin to grow in her crotch again. She remembered the size of his joint. She wanted it again. She wanted it that day. It would somehow relieve the growing tensions within her. She hesitated.
Stan sensed it immediately. "Hey! Don't worry! Everything's fine!" Yes. Everything was fine alright! But with Stan only.
He pushed her into making a decision. "Okay. I'll see you at two-thirty, sharp. Come around to the back door. Bring some groceries too. Like you are delivering something. You know, just for appearance sake."
"Okay. I'll be there at exactly two-thirty. Goodbye!"
Joan put the receiver down. He had not given her enough time to say no to his proposal. She sat at the kitchen table for an hour. She just stared at her empty, coffee cup. She saw the tiny grounds down at the bottom. There must have been thousands of them. She considered pouring the small, wet grounds on the table and counting them one by one. Finally, she just rose from the table and went into the bedroom. She was alone. No one would see or speak to her until Stan showed up that afternoon. She fell on the bed and rested. She considered meeting Stan at the door and acting like what had happened between them didn't happen at all. She reviewed her life up to and including that very moment. It had been quite boring. She was sure of that much.
Married at eighteen, a mother less that a year later, and a husband in the auto repair business. It was certainly far from the cosmopolitan life. There was a time that she craved for everything she had at that moment. Yet, it all seemed very boring to her now that she had it. She thought on and on and decided that she really wanted Stan's cock. It would give her life a bit of mystery and adventure. It surely lacked that. She'd make that day with Stan one filled with pleasure. She would make love to him with a lustful abandonment. It was terrific.
She decided to dress as alluringly as possible. Her natural taste for fashion lent itself to the occasion. She chose a tight, black tee shirt, a different pair of jeans, that were tighter than the previous days, and a pair of stacked shoes. She'd leave her hair the way it was. She didn't want to give the impression that she'd gone to any great lengths to look foxy. She wanted to appear casual.
She took a long, hot cleansing bath. A quick shower washed any clinging dirt away. She made sure her body was very clean. She gave her fingernails a quick touch-up. Her make-up came next. She usually wore a lot of it. Her husband liked it. But Stan's tastes were a little more refined. The only part of her face that she gave a large amount of make-up to, was her eyelids. She applied a green tint there to contrast the softness of her hazel eyes.
Before she began to dress, she looked into the mirror. She was pleased with her body. The man who was coming to her house in one hour, would be too. She was sure of that.
For a woman of thirty-two, she looked beautiful. In fact, her long, curving, sensual body rivaled the best of the entire town. And that included the hundreds of hot, young teens that populated the town.
Her shoulders were soft and supple. They stood directly above two, firm, erect breasts. The skin that covered her rib cage added to the dozens of curves within her female form. Her stomach formed a tiny shadow over the triangle of her lovely bush. Beneath the black layer of pubic hair, rested a sweet pussy with red, warm skin. Her hips were rounded and full. They curved out nicely from her waist.
Beneath her tasteful, yet casual outfit, she chose to wear a matching set of panties and bra. They were of a rich, solid, green and matched ever so subtlety with the green hue emanating from her eyes. As she lifted the panties up over the folds of skin of her sweet pussy, she rubbed it gently. Her whole body shook. It was preparing itself for sweet, hot pleasure. She was completely dressed at two-fifteen. She sat down in the living room and waited. She tried to sew, but that was impossible. All she could do was wait.
She rubbed her hands together and abruptly stood up. She looked at her fine frame in the large mirror that stood by the front door. She wanted to see what she looked like from behind. There was a small hand mirror sitting on the old hutch in the living room. She went to it and took it back to the mirror. She held it up and observed its reflection.
She was happy with what she saw. The jeans covered her buttocks perfectly. The fabric stretched her soft flesh and made it tighter than it was already. She was a foxy mamma! She began to feel herself getting hot, just looking at her own reflection. She knew she really could turn men on when she wanted. She had never tried as intensely as this in all the years of her marriage. She was ready to enjoy the pleasures her body could give.
She heard a faint knocking at the back door. She looked at the clock in the living room. It was two-thirty. She had to control herself from running into the kitchen to let her secret lover in. She felt like an exciting person. She was a libertine, a sensualist, a very feminine woman!
She opened the door. Peeking at her through two large bundles of packed food, stood Stan Scott. He smiled sweetly.
"Well, don't just stand there! Come in, come in!" Before Joan closed and locked the door after him, she looked outside. Mr. Scott's arrival at her house could be explained very easily. He had come to deliver her groceries. Joan was one of his customers, and had been one for years.
Stan placed the two bags on the table. "I figured you might be able to use some things," he said.
He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a six pack of beer. He popped the top of it and began to drink its contents.
Joan observed his manner. He seemed much more confident that he was the day before. He moved with an ease and sureness that was very attractive. He seemed much more masculine to Joan then he had the previous day. She was beginning to feel the tight, green panties clinging to her sweet bush, begin to moisten. She wanted that man! "You really make yourself right at home, don't you!" remarked Joan. She laughed nervously. There was something about Stan that made her skin tingle. In his store, he was all sweetness and light, but standing in the kitchen he looked a trifle dangerous. It wasn't anything in his physical posture. She sensed it in his attitude. He spoke in authoritative tones. He seemed sure of what he wanted. He had a kind of acute self-possession that thrilled her. He looked her right in the eye when he spoke.
"Joan, you look beautiful!"
She felt a rush flow her body. It took her breath away. She had dressed to turn this man on. She had succeeded. She glanced at his white, working pants. There was a huge bulge in their crotch. It was his cock! It was hard! It was ready for her. She felt her mouth water. That day she would really explore his body. She wanted to lick his balls and suck that thing in his pants. Her legs began to open. Nature was beginning to take over!
"Why, thank you Mr. Scott," she replied coyly.
She felt incredibly feminine. Every cell in her body was alive. Her mouth opened as she smiled. He would have her soon. She would give herself to him. He would be well pleased! He moved closer to her and fondled her long hair. She craved affection. Her hands rose from her sides and closed around his hairy, muscular arms. She kissed his forearm gently. It was hard and true. It would close around her soft flesh soon. He would cradle her in his arms.
She smiled at him. Her hand closed around the can of beer in his hand. She took it from him. She was thirsty, too! Up to her lips she held it. She took a full gulp. Her bare, creamy neck filled Stan's hungry eyes. He took the can from her. A small droplet of the liquid dropped from her lips. Her tongue tried to rescue it. It fell to the floor. Neither of them noticed. He brought her to him. They kissed. She felt the burning flames raging within him kindle her own desires.
They would burn out their shared sexuality together!
"Let's go upstairs," Stan whispered.
They moved towards the stairway together. Up the steps they walked. Into the big bedroom they stepped. Their dance to desire had begun!
"Take your clothes off!" Stan said hastily. He wanted to get off.
"Easy does it boy," Joan replied. "Let's get to know one another a little better first!" She played the sweet seductress role to the hilt.
Stan was beginning to grow impatient. "Come on, honey. Take your clothes off!"
She giggled and broke away from him. She walked over to the window. She had drawn the shade herself before Stan had arrived that day.
Stan's impatience was beginning to turn to anger. He took his own clothes off. He stood there in front of Joan clad only in tight, white briefs. His hard thing was stuffed within it. It was all bent up and pressing against his legs. He spoke to her.
"Joan. Let's get one thing straight up front! I don't like to be teased by anyone! Especially, women!"
She stood there and smiled like a hot harlot. She felt like she controlled the scene. She was in for a surprise. She continued her taunting giggle. "Ah, Stan! Does that thing in your pants want something? Look at it there. It's trapped. Tsk, tsk! Isn't it sad! Why don't you let it out for some air."
That did it! Stan had been mocked enough. He began to smile at the teasing woman leaning on the window sill. "Okay. I'll let it out for some air."
He pulled the huge thing from his briefs. The brown, hairy prick rose out of his briefs. It thrilled Joan. The fact that that gigantic thing was completely inside her the day before thrilled her. Her mind was agog. She knew it was big, but not that big! She estimated its length to be about twelve inches. It was now standing straight away from Stan's body. Her twat wet and her mouth watered. That thing would put her on a hot, sex trip real soon. Sooner than even she expected!
Stan stepped out of his briefs and stood there completely naked. His body was thickly muscled but rested on a medium sized frame. It gave his body a handsome, classic beauty. Her desire had slowly turned to a craving. Now she needed that huge pole that stood out from his handsome body.
"So, you wanna play, eh Joan? You wanna play your little game? Alright, we'll play. But you are going to lose!"
She looked at him in puzzlement. He moved to her. She smiled up at him weakly. She was ready now for tender love-making. But he wasn't anymore.
He grabbed her by the nape of her thin, elegant neck and threw her to the floor. "You lose baby!"
"What are you doing! Stan? Are you crazy?" She was beginning to feel frightened.
What was he going to do to her? She had no idea. She was a slight woman. She couldn't resist him if she tried!
He grabbed a huge clot of her beautiful hair. He pulled her neck back. Her mouth opened as she gasped for air. He rammed his prick right down her throat!
She coughed. Her eyes bulged and her cheeks swelled out. He forced her face right down to the root of his thing. Her lips were buried in the pubic hair at the root of his stem. She couldn't breathe! He pulled her away from his ramming thing. Up to his fierce, angry face she moved. He looked her in the face. They were eyeball to eyeball!
"I got games in store for you bitch that you might not want to play! But you will! And you know what? You know what? You are going to lose every one of them. You're a born loser and I'm going to prove it to you!"
He held the bottom of her struggling jaw open. Down her head was lowered. He stopped its plunge when it was directly parallel with his steaming stake. She saw it. It was bigger up close than it was at a distance.
What was he going to do with that thing? Her mind raced. If he rammed it into her mouth again, she was sure she would suffocate. It was just too big! She heard his voice above him. It sounded positively satanic!
"You have to play if you want to win! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Too bad for you though, you will never win. In fact, you are going to lose much more than your own dignity, self respect and virtue. You, lady, sweet bitch, are not only going to lose those things! That sweet pussy daughter of yours? Well, she going to be sucking me off just like you are! She's going to lap my hot scum and spread the cheeks of her sweet, round ass in hungry need for my cock! You just wait, bitch! She's as big of a scum-sucking slut as you are! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"
CHAPTER THREE
He rammed his hot boner deeply into her mouth. Down it traveled. She coughed and twisted. The thing was just too big! The skin of her thick lips stretched to the breaking point. Her mouth bulged as the fearsome thing moved further and further into her oral cavity. A small trickle of blood formed in the corners of her lips. The thickness of the thing was beyond the consumptive capacity of her gaping mouth. Her forehead showed the wrinkles of her agony. Terror filled her tear-soaked eyes. Although she was full clothed he was raping her of her very self-respect.
"You don't have all of it yet, bitch!" He slammed his strong pelvis right against her nose. The gigantic thing stretching the walls of her gullet to new widths, moved even further down.
Deep, painful groans rose from deep in her throat. She was incapable of speaking. The ramming rod had robbed her of her ability to speak. Her arms flailed the empty air around her. She suffered as she was forced to suck that merciless thing lodged deep in her throat.
Stan began to hump the miserable woman's face. Her nostrils opened in a desperate attempt to get the air her pained body needed. Stan was giving her what she really wanted, what she needed, what she deserved!
"You want to play games? Eh, bitch? Well, here's a new one! It's called 'Sucking Cock!'" He gave her tormented face a slugging hump.
Her struggling body wilted to the floor. She was his. The thing within her moved up and down. She felt the thick, blood gorged, veins at its sides. The base of the thing was thickest at her lips. Its sharpest point was at its piercing tip. She honestly believed that it was getting close to her very stomach! It moved with a conquering ferocity!
Her limp body lay beaten. It hung from his steaming rod. He wanted her to suck him off. She was practically unconscious. He lifted her from the floor and placed her limp, lean body in the bed. He straddled her head and began to move it up and down on his prick.
"Get into it bitch! Get into it! You better suck me off good or I might have to beat your sweet, little ass black and blue! Suck! Suck!"
Out of a mixture of fear, and shame she responded. Her lips began to move and her tongue began to lap at the huge thing penetrating her mouth.
"That's good! You got it! Your friend Stan will be shooting off in your mouth soon!"
He moved his body back from her choking throat. He felt his come about to shoot off into her mouth. He lifted her head up and her relaxed face looked strange with the big cock hanging out of her mouth. Her eyes opened and looked up at Stan. They pleaded for mercy. He saw them and read their message clearly.
"Is this too much for you? I don't want to hurt you now!" He laughed and filled her mouth socket anew with the full force of his pumping prick. He felt very close to orgasm now. He held her servile face in a new position.
He clasped her fevered head by its sides and began to move it on his rock, hard thing in a blur of fast humps. She was serving as a human whack off tool. She couldn't even suck. She was powerless. The juices in his joint began to flow. He moved her head faster and faster on the exploding prick.
His first blast of scum blasted straight to her stomach. She felt it run down the portion of her throat that was not filled with his seething flesh.
"I'm giving you all I got now, bitch! Here it comes!"
The first blast was minor to the second and the third and the fourth! The hot, scum filled her gaping mouth faster than she could swallow it. It dribbled over the edges of her taunt lips. The sticky substance began to roll lazily down her chin and neck. The tears in her eyes joined the sliding droplets of hot scum. Both were salty. Both were hot. Both were in the form of a liquid. The difference between the tears and the scum was distinctive despite all their similarities.
The tears of mouth-fucked Joan came from the agony and shame of her position. The hot semen coming from Stan came from pleasure and ecstasy.
When he finished his mouth fuck he tossed the shamed woman flat out on the bed. He walked to the window and looked down to the street. It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. His mind returned to the sex scenario in the bedroom.
He sat down in the room's only chair. He looked at the fully clothed woman on the bed. She was just starting to collect herself.
Scum dripped from her mouth. She was wasted and spent. She began to lift herself up on her elbows. She looked at the naked man who had just taught her a sound lesson. She wiped the cooling liquid from her lips. She looked like a kid who had just greedily eaten an ice cream cone.
"Take your clothes off, Joan dear." He looked at her with contempt. Both of them were cheating on their spouses, but the woman in front of him was doing it in her own bedroom. She was doing it in the room she made love to her husband in. She was doing it in the room where she told him that she loved him.
She just lay there and looked at him in disbelief.
She spoke to him. "Why did you do that to me?"
He replied in anger. "I told you to take your clothes off!"
She just lay there staring at him. Suddenly, she found an untapped well of self-respect inside of her. "Get out of my house! Get out now you animal!"
He laughed as he spoke. "That's not going to work, today or any other day. We will be doing things my way!"
She continued her pathetic, but noble effort to rid herself of this wolf in sheep's clothing. "Get out of my house right now, you animal! Get out now, or I'm going to call the cops!"
He laughed at her. Swiftly, he moved to her. Despite her heroic attempt to show confidence in the face of this fearsome man, she cringed in terror. He wasn't going to beat her. Not yet! He simply picked up the telephone and handed it to her.
"Here. Call them. Call the fucking cops! And while you're at it tell them that the cruel man in your bedroom is not your husband and further that he's been fucking you raw!"
She could not meet his challenge. She began to cry and plead for mercy. "Please leave! Leave me alone! I don't want to see you anymore! Go away!"
He laughed a wicked laugh. "Ha, ha, ha. You don't want me to leave. We really haven't gotten to know one another yet! Ha, ha."
He stood away from her. "Now honey. I told you to do something! Now do it or I'm going to have to punish you, right here in your own bedroom!"
Reluctantly, she got up. Clots of scum still hung around her lips.
She began to undress. She kicked off her stacked heels first. Next, she lifted the come stained tee-shirt over her supple flesh. She threw it on the floor. It didn't seem to matter where she put it. She opened the snap-clasp at the top of her jeans. She noticed how Stan's joint began to rise as she shimmied out of her tight jeans. When all she had on her body were her bra and panties, he told her to stop.
"Just stand there for a minute, honey! Don't move." He was admiring her gorgeous body. Although it shook from her miserable sobs, it still retained its striking beauty. Her chest heaved. He looked upon her small cleavage and considered sticking his prick in there. It coveted her quivering cunt, hiding behind the sheer fabric of her green panties.
"Turn around, Mrs. Withers," he ordered mockingly.
She looked at him with eyes full of hate. But she obeyed.
His mouth watered as he admired her beautifully erect buttocks. They shook beneath her hot panties. He noticed a small stain right at the opening of her twat. His suspicions were confirmed. She was getting off on it all, after all!
"So your hot, little box leaked a little on you, eh? I knew you were digging it all the time!"
Joan looked down at her panties. Stan was right. She had come a tiny amount. Maybe she did like it the way he said she did. If that was true, then she wouldn't ever be able to forgive herself!
"I hate you," she said to him bitterly. She felt it deeply.
"You hate me because I have shown you the truth. And you know the old saying, 'The truth hurts.'"
He laughed as he walked up to her. She had her back to him. He rubbed his hand down the curving slope of her back. It was smooth. It also cringed to his touch. He knew that she hated him. But he also knew that she couldn't resist him.
He slipped his large, hairy hand down the back of her tight panties. He felt at the crack in her slender ass. His index finger ran the whole length of it until it found the tiny opening of her asshole.
She lowered her head. "What are you going to do to me now?"
He grabbed her around the throat with his forearm and rammed his finger into her asshole. It penetrated right up to his knuckle.
Pain seared through the woman. She had never had this done to her. Sodomy was forbidden! "No, no! Not that!"
His merciless finger continued its anal probe. She literally hopped off the floor as the bony thing ripped at her rectum. Tears of anguish and helpless rage streamed from her twisted face.
"Now don't scream out or I'll call the cops," he said to her mockingly.
She was trapped. She couldn't call for help. She couldn't call any attention upon herself. She had fucked this man voluntarily only the day before. If she did call the cops there would have to be some heavy explaining to do. She knew her answers to questions like "How did this man get into your bedroom?"
"There is no evidence of a struggle, Ma'am? "Why didn't you resist this man?"
"You didn't have sex with him voluntarily, did you?"
He bent her over and managed to get two fingers into the tiny asshole. The pain made her winch. She was his victim. She could not fight.
He ripped her bra open. He tore her panties from her. She cringed! He threw her onto the bed. With a few, well placed kicks to her knees, her ass stood erect. She was afraid of what was about to happen to her. He couldn't do that to her! The size of his thing would kill her!
Stan spit on her ass. Huge clots of saliva dripped onto her marriage bed. He lifted it from her quivering cheeks and moistened her asshole. It needed to be lubricated before he did it to her.
"Stan? What are you going to do to me? Stan? Are you going to...."
Her voice broke off into muffled, agonized screams.
He had rammed the full length of his huge rod into her rectum.
"How does it feel to be ass fucked? Eh, bitch?"
She couldn't answer. Her face muscles pinched against one another. Her whole body was rapidly turning flush red. She bit her lip bloody and tore at her hair. She dared not scream out. That might bring somebody. That could mean her exposure. She suffered the most horrible pains of her life in silent, mute agony!
The pain roared through her body. The huge, hot boner was utterly devastating! She felt like she was going to die. She was drenched in gut-clutching pain. It tore into her brain and made every cell of her body wither in hellish misery. She passed out.
Stan gritted his teeth as he continued his merciless rape. The poor, sniveling bitch acted as a anguished, dazed piece of flesh for his pleasure-filled, scum-bursting prick. He knelt over the unconscious wasted woman and continued his cruel plungings. On and on he humped his blood-gorged rod in her bleeding, swelling asshole. He felt it cut further and further as her unconscious state relaxed every tensed quivering muscle in her shocked body.
His body tensed and his face contorted when he felt his hot come approach the opening slit at the fiery tip of his blazing boner.
"Now bitch! Here it is! Here's the stuff that will bring you down under my heel! Here it is!"
He gave his prick a few heavy whacks with his hand, grabbed her quivering buttocks with a lock-like grip and thrust his exploding stake into the heart of her anus.
The incredible pain of the shooting scum roused the unconscious bitch. She screamed in her dazed, pain-gorged misery.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!"
He smacked the top of her head. "Shut up bitch! Just keep your open asshole high and take my hot scum!"
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Saliva oozed from her flaring nostrils and dribbling mouth. His cock worked her into a strange state of sensual pain!
On and on he came. The stuff that shot from his cock explored the darkness deep in her stretching asshole. It clung to the walls of her rectum and entered her large intestines. There it touched the sensitive nerve endings that send instant impulses to the brain. She had been vanquished. Her brain understood the depth and strength her body was suffering but could do nothing about it!
Her ass moved in defeated rhythm with his slaughtering stake. Her arms were cast at the head of the bed and moved mutely to the frenzied plungings of her sex-crazed conqueror!
When he had finished he withdrew his limp prick from her bleeding, gaping, red asshole. He wiped his mouth and sat down on the room's only chair. He had finished his physical cruelties. For the moment, that is. There was to be much, much more but not until later. Now he would begin his vicious mental punishment.
"Your asshole's good and tight, bitch! I love them like that! My wife's used to be like that. But no more! I fucked that bitch out years ago. Now she just takes care of my kids and gives me blow jobs. I wouldn't give her my cock again. I'll tell you, something. I don't fuck around much. I keep pretty clean. But when I do, I do it right! You ain't seen nothing yet! I got plans for your mouth, cunt and asshole. Also for something else!
She lay there still dazed and confused. She could make out some of his words. His last sentence began to make some sense to her. She thought about what Stan had just done to her and thought she had heard him say something about "something else." She wondered what he meant by that. What could it be?
He continued his perverse explanation.
"What time does Wendy get home?" he asked.
Her tortured mind came to a shocking understanding of what he wanted. What did he want with Wendy?
He walked over to her. He slapped her hurting ass hard. "I asked you a question. What time does Wendy get home?"
"About six o'clock," she answered. "Why do you want to know anyway?"
Stan Scott laughed his cruel laugh. "Ha, ha. My dear Joan, your daughter is going to make us a threesome! Sweet Wendy will be getting to know me much better soon. That nice man, Mr. Scott, will be sticking it to her soon! She'll get to know, not only me but this too! Ha, ha, ha!" He pointed to his limp prick.
Joan couldn't believe what she'd heard. "If you ever lay a hand on her, I'll kill you! I swear it! You miserable bastard! I'll kill you!"
"There's going to be no killing done around here, honey. Your husband Bill will never know what's going on, and I think he's the only one involved in this affair capable of real violence. I mean, like with fists and tire irons. That kind of thing don't go too well with me though. My weapon is my prick. It gets the job done, don't it?"
Stan's words seemed sure and true. The security of his attitude frightened her. Could he possibly get Wendy involved in this perverted sex scene? Never! her heart screamed. But a doubt hung from her mind. Could he get Wendy to suck and fuck the way dear old Ma was doing? She prayed he couldn't. She feared he would.
Stan continued. "I'll tell you one thing. That daughter of yours is a hot, little number. I've watched her over the years. She's really growing up! Joan? Are you sure she hasn't been fucked yet? I mean, if I was fifteen I wouldn't leave her alone until I had rammed my hot, young, crazy cock into her sweet little snatch!"
The licentious arrogance of his words enraged the spent woman on the bed. She felt incapable of any kind of resistance, however. Stan had done a real number on her head. She felt immobile and frozen. She had become his victim very easily. Yet, she still tried to fight him. Her only weapon was words.
"I swear I'll kill you, you evil bastard!" she screamed.
Stan had thought her words of resistance were amusing at first. But now they were beginning to anger him. He lunged at the raped bitch on the bed. "I don't like to be spoken to like that, by you or anyone!"
He turned the squirming woman onto her stomach. He pressed his knee into the small of her back. She struggled briefly. A quick slap to the back of her head stopped her however.
"Now relax, bitch! This is going to hurt me more than it will you!"
A resounding smack filled the room. He was spanking her sadistically!
"Ahhhhhhh!" she screamed as his hand did its nasty deed. The sharp sounds continued. "Whack, whack, whack!"
The message of his open palm was very clear. She was to be obedient. She was to cooperate. She was to be a servile bitch!
"Now, bitch, how does this feel? I can see the flesh on your ass cheeks quivering. Do you like it?"
As his hand continued its relentless punishment, her body went limp again. Her hair dangled to the floor. Her arms hung loosely and bent up at the wrists where they touched the floor. A small pool of saliva formed on the floor directly beneath her open, quivering mouth. She dribbled like a child. She was getting the spanking of her life. Her body would tense up with each smack, but it would go limp again during the split second between each strike of the blurred palm.
"Whack, whack, whack!"
It seemed to go on and on. "Now, bitch! You will do what Daddy says or you will have to be punished again. I don't want to hurt you too badly! I mean, your ass is too round and your twat is too soft for me to just cast you aside like a wet towel!"
He pushed her away from her suddenly. He continued his wild laughing. He went into the bathroom. The water began to run. She heard him laughing. She rubbed her swollen ass. It sure hurt!
Stan returned from the bathroom. In his hand was a wet towel. He had twisted it all up. He began to snap it at her naked ass. When it connected, it made a crackling sound. The pain that rushed through Joan's body now was incredible. He kept snapping that soaked towel and snapping it on her ass. Every time it made contact Joan would cringe anew. She squirmed on the bed. She bit into the pillow there as her exposed flesh suffered the slashing, snapping pain of Stan's cloth weapon. Finally, she retreated under the covers of the ruffled bed. Her head was spinning and her ass was bleeding. She couldn't see the welts that he had inflicted upon her ass cheeks. But she could certainly feel them. The pains were short and sharp compared to the huge ones his huge prick inflicted upon her as he ass fucked her.
She held the covers of the bed up to her chin. She cringed under the sheets. "No more punishment, please!" she begged.
Stan began to dress. "So, Wendy gets home at around six o'clock, eh?" he snickered. "That should be just fine!"
He stood at the door before he left. "Remember, I know my way back in!" The door slammed behind him.
She lay there in the bed. Tears streamed from her face. She couldn't believe what Stan Scott had put her through. He had seemed so nice. He seemed to be the right man to cheat on her husband with. But she had been so very wrong. Stan was a cruel, evil bastard, after all! She was right when she told him that that's what he was.
It was impossible to detect. On the surface, he seemed so nice. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. Lurking behind his smiling face was a sadistic, selfish pervert. He even wanted to fuck Joan's fourteen year-old daughter! Joan found that almost impossible to believe. Stan Scott served dozens of the town's young females. Did he covet them the way he did her daughter?
All she knew was that she had to protect Wendy from the evil designs of Stan Scott. She would have to figure out a way, somehow.
She rested in the bed for an hour. At five o'clock she got up. Wendy would be home soon. She had to have the growing, young girl's dinner ready.
She jumped out of the bed. It was made in a moment. She gave it a quick double check and discovered the bloodstains from the abuse she suffered at the cruel hands of Stan. She stripped the bed and changed the sheets. The evidence of her sexual abuse was washed away in the appliances she kept in the basement and they chatted the way they usually did. It was a routine evening except for the constant pain Joan suffered in her hind quarters. Her asshole had been plundered and her asscheeks had been whipped with a wet towel. She hid her private pains quite well from her daughter.
Wendy went on and on about school and her 4H Club meetings. She was an active kid and quite glib. Joan only hoped that the young girl was as outspoken and ambitious with her peers as she was with her.
But Wendy wasn't. She was a "good kid." She had only recently discovered her own femininity. It proved awkward to her. She tried to handle it as well as she could. But leering men always made her jealous. She couldn't believe that men as old as her father looked at her hungrily. It made her feel dirty. Her blossoming body got many men and boys hard alright! Wendy was the subject of more than a few masturbatory fantasies. Much semen had been wasted because of the girl's swaying walk and curvaceous body.
Joan knew how men looked upon young Wendy. She wanted to protect her for as long, and as well as she could. She always looked directly into the eyes of the men who leered at young Wendy whenever the two woman walked down the street together. Most of the men who lusted for Wendy looked weak and impotent to Joan. She viewed them all as leches. She was right. Most of them were!
"I'll tell you, Ma. That Mr. Abrams. He's such a good teacher! Sometimes, he just hypnotized me. He's so smart! He's read a million books, I bet! He knows all about everything! But when we're alone, and he's helping me with my writing, he acts so dumb sometimes! I mean, I don't think he's there. He seems to be off somewhere else. But he's always looking at me. I don't understand him at all! But, most of the other teachers are all creepy, boring or mean. All they want to do in work. Work, work, work! That's all they ever want to do. I swear, it drives me crazy sometimes."
Joan was fascinated. She always listened to Wendy talk. She saw so much of herself in the beautiful, young teen. It was not only her physical looks that did it. Joan saw so many of her own mannerisms in the girl. It was scary sometimes. It was like the teen's mother was looking into a mirror when she looked at her daughter.
Whenever Wendy really got carried away with something she was talking about, she would wave and thrash her arms about her head. Joan remembered how she used to do that herself. But that was so many years before! Still, it would never fail to "take her back."
They two woman, one aged thirty-two and the other aged fourteen had much more than a mother-daughter relationship. They were friends of the first order. Joan knew that Wendy would begin to move away from her very soon. Just as soon as she got a little more comfortable with her growing body and mind. Wendy was at the stage in her development where everything seemed to be happening faster and faster. She hoped to keep up with things.
About ten o'clock, Joan's husband Bill got home. He apologized to his wife for his lateness, and kissed his daughter. It was a small family, but to many an observer, a good one. They all had good images. Wendy was the sweet, young teen, Joan was the concerned and attentive housewife and Bill was the hard-working father. It all looked very good. But some strange things had been happening to all of them. Joan had been reduced to a suffering wretch by the cruel sex she was made to suffer at the hands of her grocer. Wendy had her ass squeezed by Mr. Abrams earlier that day. She was getting some special tutoring at his apartment, and it happened on her way out. It was going to be her secret. She wouldn't tell anyone about it. Mr. Abrams would only deny it anyway. Finally, dear old Dad had had an experience he wouldn't tell anyone about either.
At around the time Stan left the room where he had abused Mrs. Withers, Mr. Withers had a very unusual person enter his shop. He had said "Goodnight," to the three men who worked for him, about fifteen minutes earlier. He was busily at work on the company books in the small windowed office of his shop. Owning your own business has its hidden costs!
He heard the small door that was cut into his shop's main garage entrance, swing open. The shop had closed at five but the last of his workmen had failed to lock the small door as he left. He usually did, so Bill Withers didn't check it. He didn't worry anyway. He didn't have much to steal. Maybe some good tools, but that was it.
He didn't even look up from his work. He was growing impatient with it and wanted to get home. "We're closed! Come back tomorrow!"
He heard a voice call out to him. It was feminine. "Hello! I need some help! My car stalled out on me about a mile from here! This is the first open gas station I've seen! What time does this town close up at anyway?"
He tossed his pen down and got up. "This isn't a gas station! This is a Auto Repair Shop! My Auto Repair Shop!"
He stepped out of his small office and glanced at the figure standing at the door. His eyes lit up.
She was all woman and reeked of sexuality. She stood about five feet three inches high in high heels, so she was probably much shorter. She wore a cheap, slutty looking black dress that was sashed with a metallic silver belt. She carried a small pocketbook under her arm. Her hair was black, hung around her shoulders, and styled nicely. It had a straight, full-bodied look. She was about twenty years old and obviously of Spanish extraction. Her lips were thick and red. Her eyes flashed. Her body was lean but curved nicely. She was definitely not in her element in the small town of Winstone, Maine.
She looked like a prostitute. She swayed and almost fell to the floor as she accidentally tipped on a old tire.
"Heavens!" she said. After she had recovered her balance she looked up at Bill Withers. "My goodness! How do you not break around here!"
She was hot, alright. Bill Withers' prick came to life in his pants. He cupped his hands in front of his erect boner and tried to hide it. He usually was pretty gruff with woman customers. He had learned that they didn't ask too many questions if he was.
"Oh, my! My car broke down and I have to be in Boston tonight! It's extremely important to me! Could you help me. I'll pay you well! Please!"
Bill was a man. She played the helpless female role to the hilt. It made him feel like even more of a man. His wife Joan was very feminine, but she hadn't instilled that feeling in him in years. He liked it.
"Look lady, the shop is closed. I'm the only one here!"
He began to act very annoyed. "Tsk. Alright, where is your car? You say, a mile from here! Then you must be out on Route 1. What's the matter? Did it just die on you or what?"
She began to get flustered and upset. "I don't know anything about cars. My car doesn't work and I have to get to Boston tonight! Please help me!"
Bill looked around him, down at his watch and into the office. He looked at the young woman standing in front of him. He paused. Starting for the office to pick up his large, key chain he said to her, "Okay, miss. Get into that red truck over there. I'll be right with you.
In minutes they were rumbling down Route 1 in his tow truck.
"You aren't from Winstone. I can see that plain as day! Where you from? New York?
She smiled at him coyly. He was her hero. "Why yes! How'd you guess?"
He felt flattered. "I can tell. I can tell."
When they finally reached the car, Bill slowed his truck to a halt. They both got out. She stood off to the side. He opened the hood and played around in there for about three minutes.
He spoke out to her like a doctor giving a diagnosis. "You threw a belt, miss. You'll have to come back to the shop to get one."
She was well pleased. "You mean, I will be able to be on my way soon?"
"Yes," Bill replied. "You sure will."
He got back into his truck and pulled it in front of the stalled automobile. It was a 1976 Buick. It was also quite expensive. He secured its front bumper to his truck and they slowly turned on the highway and started back to Winstone. After they got back to his shop, he replaced the lost belt and started up the car. He looked at her and smiled.
"That's it honey! You can be on your way, now!" He would have loved to ball her but he didn't even make a play. She wasn't so modest!
"How much do I owe you?" she asked. He promptly responded that the whole thing would cost twenty dollars.
It seemed that all she had were traveler's checks and was without a pen to sign one. It was very convenient. He said for her to come into the office with him. He had one there.
She walked ahead of him. He was really digging her wiggling ass. But he was cool. Always cool.
When they got into the office, she closed the door behind and sat down. She took the pen and began to write. She seemed to get mildly upset about something. She looked up from the small booklet of checks straight into the eyes of Bill Withers.
"Look! What do you think I do for a living?"
Bill was horny alright. But he always remained cool. "Huh?" he responded.
"I could pay you another way, if you like." She stepped over to him and boldly put her hands onto his thick waist. He knew what was happening but he remained cool. The prick in his pants wanted the hot little bitch. His large, dirty hands rose and rested on hers.
She looked .at him and smiled. A light hung from the center of the small office's ceiling. She looked at it, then back at him.
"How about it?" she asked, as she pulled the light out.
His heavy arms closed around her and pressed her young, hot body against the strong, wooden wall of wood that lined the small office.
She pulled at his pants and opened them. He slid her dress up to her young, creamy-skinned waist. His large hand closed on her hot grinding pussy. He rammed two fingers into the wet, foaming twat. At that moment, she whipped his large wang from his pants. It swung out like a big sausage. She immediately steered it for the opening of her cunt. She stuffed it in and opened her legs. He rammed her off the floor. Her legs closed around his humping bulk. He breathed hard and pumped the young whore's body. She banged against the wall with his every thrust. She could handle him alright. Folds of her dress fell about his dirty work clothes. He could smell her cheap perfume. She wore a thin chain around her neck. A portion of it was in his mouth as he sucked on the young harlot's skin. He pumped her like a working man! He began to breathe heavy. She threw herself at him.
She felt his body shudder. She held him tight. She knew he was about to come. He exhaled deeply and sighed.
He came.
His juice shot into the open twat of the young whore. It was business to her but from time to time she got off on it. This was one of those times. The whole thing was so spontaneous. That's what she liked best.
When he had finished he pulled away from her. Quickly, she pulled up her panties and pulled down her dress. She shimmied her body in the darkness and patted her hair. She tried to get herself back together in a hurry. He too wanted to resume his cool, distant pose.
After he had returned his limp prick to his pants and zipped up he pulled on the light cord above him. The light went on and they looked at each other. He wanted to say something. He wasn't sure what.
She broke their silent eye contact. "Well! I do have to be going! I have an important appointment in New York. It's with a man!"
She giggled and started for the door. He held it open and walked with her to her car.
When they both reached the shiny, brown Buick she turned to him.
"Thanks a lot! You really helped me out!"
She got in the car and started the powerful engine. The car seemed huge as her delicate frame sat inside. She looked out the open window.
"See you around!" She put her car into gear and was off.
He stood there and watched her car fade in the distance. It was getting dark. He put his hands on his hips and began to shake his head.
"See you around," he said to himself.
"What did you say, dear?" his wife asked, as she laid his dinner out before him.
He looked up at her blankly. He picked up his fork and began to eat. After his first bite he said quietly, "Nothing. Really nothing. I was just thinking about something."
CHAPTER FOUR
The evening passed in the usual fashion. About twelve o'clock Joan roused her sleeping husband. The television was on but the volume was turned down. Joan knew that Bill would fall asleep around eleven-thirty. She used to try to turn the thing off but that woke her husband up. So she settled to just turn the volume and continue on with her sewing. Wendy had long been in bed.
"Come on, Bill! Let's go to bed! It's late. Come on. The morning rolls around very early. Let's go."
She poked, pulled and patted him. It was standard procedure.
"Okay, okay. I'm up! I'm up!" Bill sat up on the couch.
He rubbed his eyes. He rose up and lumbered towards the bedroom. Tomorrow would be another routine in a routine life. He thought that if he could only get ahead of his work, he'd be able to enjoy his wife and his daughter. But he never would. He probably wanted it that way. Life was easy that way. All he had to do was work. Nothing else. Not too many decisions had to be made this way. His life style was set. He was set. He could deal with the men who worked for him, very easily. There were no problems. He'd listen to what they had to say. He'd even consider it sometimes. But the bottom line of his operation was always handled by him. He was the boss. If his help didn't like it they could look for a job elsewhere. He held a mild contempt for wage earners, anyway. Owning your own business was the thing. That was a man's way of doing things. He'd run the show.
But at home it was different. He had to be democratic. His wife was too spirited to permit him to lay down the law to her. She was a person. She was also the one who made most of the major decisions in the household. That made him feel uneasy and impotent.
The way out of his quandary was simple. All he had to do was stay away from the house as much as possible. He'd keep his little domain at the shop running smoothly. What went on at home he couldn't deal with. So, he simply stayed away. It was for a lack of love, respect and the rest of those lofty virtues. He just couldn't be bothered.
He wasn't very good at words. They confused him. Especially when he spoke to his wife. He said the wrong thing a lot. He said what he didn't really mean. She would not understand what he was talking about. He would not understand what she was talking about. They knew each other very well.
Bill Withers lumbered to his bed. After he had performed his nightly ritual in the bathroom he joined his wife. She was already in bed. She was a light sleeper and could not fade out until he was in bed too.
They'd been thinking of getting separate beds. The idea seemed somehow impersonal. They liked the idea of sleeping in the same bed. The reality was something else.
"Come on, Bill. You took all the covers from me, when you got into bed. You hog! You big ogre!"
He rolled over on top of her and began to growl. He felt strangely playful. He wanted to get some sex from his "old lady."
"Come on, Bill! It's late! Let's go to sleep!" Joan sensed his heating desire. "Oh, no! It's too late! Closed for business!"
He grappled with her in the bed. They laughed and thrashed about for a minute. Then they settled into it. He didn't fuck her very often. She would try to get the most out of it when he did, though.
In a minute he was in her. Her pussy was easy to enter. She was still a young woman, but not that young.
He gave a few quick humps of his quasi-hard joint and shot off a regular load of come. She always enjoyed the way it felt inside of her. It made her whole body warm. It wasn't hot, torrid sex, but it wasn't bad.
As he came he thought of the hot, fucky prostitute who had paid him earlier in the evening with a fast hump, instead of a fast twenty. He really got off with that little bitch. It was pure lust. There was something starkly honest about the act. He made love to his wife. He fucked that little broad.
He rolled off of her. He had gotten off. She didn't. She thought of Stan Scott. She thought of how he had described his own marriage. He had said that his wife merely took care of his kids and gave him blow jobs. She had no feelings about it. It was a reality she didn't need and didn't want to cope with.
She thought of the way he had made her suck him off though. His joint was huge. Much larger that her husband's. She remembered how she had tried to suck the thing when he threatened to beat her up. But it was much too big. She felt the small cracks in the corners of her lips. He had almost chocked her to death with the thing.
Her hand moved from her lips down past her elegant, waist and came to rest on the crack in her ass. Gingerly, she touched the tiny asshole that had reluctantly consumed the huge pumping rod owned by "Scotty." She exhaled deeply when she imagined how he managed to get that huge thing into her tiny crack. It hurt to the touch. She would have trouble sitting down for a few days, at least.
In the quiet, darkened bedroom, Joan felt herself getting hot. It happened despite herself. Only hours before, she had been brutally ass fucked in the very bed she now slept in. She began to tickle the skin folds of her pussy. She thought of how Stan had promised her "much more." and got hotter. Her fingers entered the open, gaping hole of her cunt.
In minutes, her body was tensed and hot. She was masturbating to thoughts of another man, as her husband slept besides her. Her body writhed despite her best efforts to still it. Her twat was on fire. Her frustrated body found fulfillment at her own hands. She came,-, .
Her hand was soaked with the warm juices of her pussy. It was buried beneath her black pubic hairs. All that was exposed was her knuckles. The rest of her hand fondled the frenzied, coming organ.
She sighed softly. Her body relaxed. She drifted off to sleep.
Her dreams were filled of images of Stan. His huge prick filled her every sleeping thought. She slept poorly that night, however. He had better not try anything with her daughter. He would kill him if he did!
She woke early the next morning. Her husband hadn't left yet. She heard him moving around in the house. He was still downstairs. She lay there until she heard him leave. Then she got up.
She slipped on her terry-cloth robe and slipped out of the bedroom. As silently as she could, she opened Wendy's bedroom door.
The young teen slept soundly. Her thoughts were not filled with sexual images. She was young and pure. She hadn't tasted her first prick yet. Human sexuality was still a distant thing to her.
Joan went to her side. She stroked the hair of her daughter. The girl slept soundly. Her face was round, and relaxed.
Wendy was a younger version of Joan. For a second she was proud that Stan wanted her daughter. Then the revulsion set in. She suddenly began to feel herself getting very angry.
"That bastard!" she whispered softly, as she continued to stroke her daughter's hair. "That dirty bastard!"
Her sleeping daughter rolled over onto her back. She sighed softly and opened her eyes. "Mother," she said. "What are you doing up? What time is it?"
Her mother spoke to her in reassuring tones. "It's time to get up dear! School today! Come on."
Joan rubbed her daughter's soft, creamy exposed arm. Wendy lifted it from the bed. Their fingers clasped. "Everything, okay, Mother? You seem a little upset this morning."
Joan snapped back softly, "I'm fine! But how are you?"
Wendy rolled over on her side. "Let me sleep for ten more minutes, Mother? Please?"
Joan Withers would not usually honor such a request. But that day she didn't say anything.
Instead of scolding her daughter, she just ran her hand up the dozing teen's back. She scratched her back affectionately. For the next ten minutes she wondered about the future. Whatever happened she was sure her husband would never find out. Bill just couldn't be bothered. Stan had plans for both her and her daughter. She knew that much. She figured that she might be able to foil his sadistic schemes if she could unite against him with her daughter. But Wendy didn't know anything about sex. How could she get Stan out of her life without somebody finding out about it. He just wanted too much. A three-way thing with Wendy was too much for her to even imagine. She began to feel sick.
"Okay, Mother. I'm ready to get up now."
Joan took her hand out from under the covers. She clasped her hands together in her lap. Her thoughts were troubled and confused.
Through it all she somehow enjoyed the abuse Stan had given her. Her mouth still bore the cuts from his jamming boner. Her asshole ached, and her buttocks swelled. But through it all she somehow, enjoyed it. She couldn't understand it all!
She rose from the bed and walked towards the staircase. "I'll have your breakfast ready when you get downstairs, honey. You better hurry up though. That extra ten minutes you got, is gonna cost you. I don't want you missing your bus and I want you to eat something before you leave for school! Hurry up!"
A half-hour later, Joan kissed her beautiful daughter goodbye. She was off to school. She watched her bus drive off. She was alone again. It seemed that she spent tremendous amounts of time alone. She was a quiet woman who generally kept to herself. But on this particular day, she felt like she would enjoy a little companionship. She walked to the front of her house. Immediately, she saw her neighbors. They seemed to be gardening, sweeping or generally tidying up the front of their property. All the husbands were long gone by that time of the day. It was a typical day in Winstone.
"Hey Joan! Come on over and look at my roses! They are really coming up. It's only the middle of June, and they are coming up already. Come on over."
The voice belonged to Mrs. Sommers. She was a pleasant lady who lived next door. Joan would talk to her from time to time but she made sure that she kept it light. Joan was a reticent person, especially when it came down to personal matters. But Stan was troubling her. She didn't know what she could do about it. She wanted out of her involvement with him and at the same time she was beginning to feel as horny as hell for him and she felt her asscheeks as she walked. They still hurt from the sharp smacks Stan had given them the previous day. She wondered if he would call her again. She also thought about how she would act in his store. Would it be possible for her to go there as a regular customer anymore. After all that had ensued between them? She wasn't a good actress.
"Hey, Mrs. Sommers! You've got a regular 'green thumb!'"
Joan touched the budding flowers gently. She loved flowers. Especially, roses.
"I told you to call me 'Francine' not 'Mrs. Sommers!' Come on Joan! I've known you for ten years and you still call me 'Mrs. Sommers?' You know something? You are weird!"
Both women laughed. Besides her distancing reticence, Joan was also shy. She had moved into the clapboard house a full ten years ago. She' was only twenty-two years old at the time and looked upon her neighbor as an older person. Joan still felt like a kid at the time. She didn't any longer, but she still retained many habits from her youth. One of then was referring to her elders as "Mr." or "Mrs."
Francine Sommers was a full ten years older than Joan and already had grandchildren. Joan would probably be one herself in ten years. Wendy was fourteen already!
"Joan? I saw Wendy leaving this morning. She is a beautiful kid. Your better watch her close, or someone might take her right out from under your nose!"
Just then, Joan thought that Mrs. Sommers was reading her mind. Stan certainly wanted to "take her." She knew that alright!
"Thanks, Francine. But I don't think that I have worry about that for awhile yet. She's only fourteen!"
Mrs. Sommers was a contentious woman. "Fourteen or not, she has got a body of a full grown woman!" She was also quite observant.
"Come in for a cup of coffee," said Mrs. Sommers.
Joan accepted the invitation and the two women entered the house. It was exactly like Joan's on the outside, but quite different on the inside. Mrs. Sommers had lousy taste. It was so tacky.
For a small town in Maine, Mrs. Sommers' home was positively garish. A chandelier hanging from the center of the living room reeked of cheap crystal while the rest of the furniture was covered with plastic coverings. Mrs. Sommers had no children. She prided herself on her gardening and her decorating. In gardening she was Fine. But decorating was a different story and Joan didn't like it at all. "I see you are quite a decorator too, Francine!"
That was the only compliment she could muster up within her. The two women passed through the room into the kitchen. Right as Joan sat down, she could see that she had made a mistake. Wow! Could that woman talk. She ran on at the mouth for at least two hours.
Her conversational topics usually concentrated on her family. In no time at all Joan knew her neighbor's family tree, branches and leaves!
She managed to escape after saying goodbye for about half an hour. After a rapid retreat to her house, she went to work. The beds were made and the wash was done in a few hours. She did some dusting, but put off vacuuming.
She looked up at the clock. It was two-fifteen. At that point of the day, she would go shopping. A quick trip to "Scotty's" would usually do it. But could she face him after what had gone on between them? She had to find out.
She dressed casually. While she did so, she thought of how he had abused her. It got her hot. She hated herself for it, but she felt the warm glow in her crotch, nevertheless. She chose from her limited, but select wardrobe, the tightest pair of jeans she had. It was difficult getting them on, but she managed. She pulled them over her round, firm ass. The strong fabric stretched across her squeezed flesh. She was trying to look as alluring as she possibly could. She was like a moth at a flame.
She ignored all the craning necks and catcalls as she walked the few blocks to the small grocery store. That day she radiated a very accessible sexuality. She was hot for a prick despite herself.
When she got to Stan's store she felt a sharp rush throughout her body. She hoped that she would be his only customer. She was.
He looked up from his work. There she stood ready for anything. She felt like she was going to be sacrificed. He would be the evil priest. Her pussy began to purr silently in the darkness of her tight jeans.
"Hi!" she said anxiously. Her weak compliant smile faded as he returned to his work. A minute later her looked up at her.
"Yes, Mrs. Withers. What can I do for you today?"
He was playing with her mind. She didn't want to be there. It was like she was drawn there by a force she couldn't understand.
"I came to tell you that I never want to see you again! I came to tell you that you are an evil bastard and if you lay a hand on my daughter ever, I'll kill you!"
Stan put his knife down. He wiped his greasy, meat-filled hands on his apron. He smiled at her. "Please, dear! Don't give me the freedom of speech jive! You'll do whatever I tell you!"
She stood there and started to shake. She felt like she was going crazy. Why had she come? Did she want more abuse? That would be insane?
Stan walked out from behind the counter. He walked to the door of his small shop, locked the front door, drew the shade and turned off the lights. He turned to Joan.
"I'll tell you one thing! I'm losing a lot of business because of you, you horny bitch! Follow me. please!"
She stamped her shaking leg on the wooden floor. She yelled in desperation. It seemed that she was trying to convince herself that what she was saying was what she really believed.
"I told you that I didn't want to see you anymore! Do you understand me?"
"Sure honey. Anything you say! Now come along with me. We are wasting time."
She began to balk again. She was pathetic. He grabbed her by the back of the neck and threw her shaking body through the doorway that led to the back of the store.
"Get the fuck back there, you horny slut! You filthy whore!"
She fell on the strawed floor and began to sob. She spit out a piece of straw that had lodged in her mouth. She wanted to be there and hated herself for it!
"Stand up and take your pants off." He began to issue orders like a competent, but bored school teacher. She was a dizzy student that needed a bit of straightening out. That's all.
She stood there with her head lowered. Her bottom lip protruded out. She rubbed a sniffle from her nose. Her hands began to open her pants. She pulled them over her beautiful ass. She stood there disgraced. Her pants laid around her ankles.
"Step out of your jeans and spread your legs." She did so.
"Now stand over that butcher block, lean over it and hold that ass high!" He felt his prick begin to grow. He would give her another lesson. Very soon.
He picked up a large, wooden, yard stick that was leaning against the wall. He held it high above his head. He saw the welts on her ass. She had come to Daddy for a good spanking!
Her ass quivered and shook. Down came the stick. "Whack!"
The pain shot through her body. Her fingers clutched the butcher block. She was being punished. She deserved it. She had no idea why she felt a need to be punished. Somehow though it seemed like it would be the only thing that would satisfy her strange, new craving.
Stan began to speak to her as he spanked her ass. "Now, bitch! Tell me what a bad girl you are. Tell me how you really feel about yourself"
She just couldn't believe what she heard herself saying. But the words seemed to come natural to her. Through brief pauses between the shooting stabs of pain Stan's stick gave her, she spat out the words. "I'm a filthy whore! I'm a horny slut! I need punishment! I'm not worthy for your prick! But please give it to me! Give it to me again! Like yesterday!" She pleaded for more abuse. She loved it!
Stan knew. He sensed it that first day he fucked her. He knew that when he really plowed her hard, a touch of pleasure would fill her face as the pain from his ramming joint made her wince. He knew!
Joan felt strangely relieved. She was being purged of her own hateful passions. He whacked on with the stick. At the same time, he pulled his steaming rod out of his pants. It was bigger and more fierce than it had been at any other time!
On a counter right behind was a jar of cooking oil. He spied it with his sharp eyes. "Alright, bitch! Get up! I'll be done with you in a minute! Now, get off that block and take the oil from the shelf."
She stood up and saw the oil. He didn't have to tell her what to do with it. She poured a large glob of the thick, yellow stuff into her hand. Next she stooped over the block again and slapped the lubricant in and around her quivering asshole. She knew what she wanted. She wanted that hungry monster of a cock shoved up her asshole again. She groveled in her disgrace.' Her face tensed as she pulled her oil drenched ass cheeks apart. Her buttocks shook. They were about to be forced further apart than they had been the previous night!
Stan stood over her with his prick steaming and ready for its perverse plunge. Suddenly, he moved around in front of her. Her face was resting in preparation on the block. He looked at her surprised face.
"Are you waiting for something, Joan? What do you want me to do to you? Ha, ha, ha! I think I'll leave you like this, stooping over a smooth butcher block with your asshole up, open and dripping with vegetable oil."
She sobbed bitterly. She was disgraced beyond her wildest dream, and she was not only being rejected but mocked! "Please give it to me!" she moaned. "I need it!"
He continued taunting her. 'Tell me what you need, honey. I don't know what you are talking about? Ha, ha, ha!"
She looked at him with cringing, tear-filled eyes. "You know what I want you to do." She was humiliated and miserable. "Stick it in me! Stick it in me hard!"
"Stan acted as if he finally understood what she was saying. "Oh, that! Well, if you insist!" He began.
He stood up erect and clutched his huge, steaming prick. Joan's eyes closed. She was finally get her medicine! It would hurt, but it would be good for her!
Stan had other plans. "Here you go!" He forced his thing into her mouth. Huge tears welled up in her eyes. He was torturing her! But the cock in her mouth felt good. She began to suck it hard. She still held her asshole open anyway, though. Perhaps, she was still hopeful.
Stan pulled his joint from her sucking mouth as fast as he had put it in. Swiftly, he moved to her back. With one quick plunge he gave the miserable bitch what she had come for, a hot, throbbing boner digging out her bleeding asshole.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned. It hurt beyond belief but it sure got her off. She felt an orgasm rising in her foaming, humid twat.
Stan leaned into it. His face grimaced. He plowed her ass with that thing of his like a determined lumberjack! Up and down his pole moved in her steaming, quivering asshole. She was getting ripped off soundly. She needed the abuse. It was darkly pleasurable.
Her lips were puckered. Her face was tensed. His joint moved further and further up her asshole. She let go of her ass cheeks. It wasn't necessary to hold them open anymore. The thing that she wanted, she now had. Her cheeks were being forced apart more now than when she was doing it herself.
Stan rested his hands on the small of the woman's back. He really let her have it. Her fingers clutched the corners of the block. She was a piece of hot meat to his ramming joint. It cut through her open flesh. It stripped her of her dignity. It slashed on and on. He exhaled deeply. He felt his hot thing coming close to its explosion. He would shoot off in her.
A menacing scowl seized his face. He fucked her with a cruel vengeance. Her body fit into the grooves of the butcher block quite well. She was a hot humping piece of meat for his hungry stake!
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh," she moaned. "It hurts so much! No! Not that hard! I can't take it! It's too big! Ahhhhhhhhh"
"Shut up, bitch! It's not big enough for your hot, humping hole and you know it. You'd want it harder and bigger if you could get it! You're just a fucky whore, and you know it!"
Joan cried bitter tears. He was right. She knew that. It was hard for her to admit it to herself. Here she was. A thirty-two year old, married, straight woman, cringing in pleasure spiked pain to the mighty ass fuckings of her grocer! It was hard to believe. But the reality of her present condition was hard to deny. She leaned over more on the block. That thing inside of her was huge. It was literally tearing her apart. She couldn't deny that!
"Okay, Mrs. Withers!" Stan said mockingly. "Here's the fresh cream you wanted!"
He shook and shuddered over the pathetic woman serving his steaming stake. His eyes bulged and his tense face relaxed. His work was finished. He came.
His shooting scum moved in silent, swift blasts. She felt it exploring hidden and mysterious parts of her inner being. She felt a wave of pleasure dash through her. His hot scum thrilled her.
Her ass quivered as it obediently took every . drop of his shooting flesh stick. She thought of the fierce whackings he had given her ass cheeks only minutes before. The pain from that was very small from the pain caused by his gorging thing. It was absolutely shattering. But it was necessary.
She had never gotten the kind of sexual satisfaction he was giving her. She'd been fucking for fourteen years, but she had never been taken so brutally. Stan wanted her alright. He took her!
Her husband used to make heavy, passionate love to her when they were first married. But that was years ago. Now the act of sex was merely a means to an end. It would get him off. He would shoot off his load and roll off of her. They were both bored by it. It was okay, she figured. His cock was still pretty hard, when he wanted it to be. But the urgency of it all was no longer. The whole thing seemed besides the point now.
But with Stan it was a different story. He was ramming her asshole with a fury she had never experienced before. She bit her lip hard as he stuck his thing further into her. It seemed that it could no further but then all of a sudden it would. She couldn't take that thing. It was so fucking big! The shooting scum from it made her dizzy, as the final spurts of come shot from his prick. He was rapidly becoming spent from the humpings and pumpings he was giving her ass. He began to swoon and almost fell backwards. His orgasm was strong and hard. For a man of twenty-nine, he shot his scum with the ferocity of a hot teen!
Maybe that was the reason he wanted Wendy so bad. He thought of the young, virgin teen as he finished ass fucking her mother. He considered the size of her asshole. Her pussy would be sweet and clean. It would be brushed and rest behind the soft, black pubic hairs that formed a perfect triangle in her young crotch.
He began to speak. "Joan? When is Wendy going to join us for a three way party? I'm really looking forward to that! It better be soon. Somebody's going to break her sweet little cherry soon, if I don't."
The words tore into prostrate Joan almost as cruelly as Stan's joint had. She had told him in no uncertain terms that she would not stand for him trying to get to her daughter. Yet, he had just asked her when it would happen. His words seemed to spring from a forgone conclusion that she would do a three way thing. The only issue was when it would happen. He was sure it would. He wasn't sure when though.
She tried to speak but the fucking she had just received left her speechless. She uttered a few sounds that sounded vaguely negative.
But she could not resist him. He was too strong for her. She wanted him more than ever. It had to continue. She never had known pleasure could have such dizzying heights.
He pulled his thing out of her. It was limp and dribbled a few globs of scum juice. He wiped them off his joint and smeared the creamy stuff onto Joan's cooling ass. Her asshole was really big now. It gaped open. She even began to feel like she walked differently. It had opened her up to new widths.
She summoned up as much strength as she could and began to speak.
"I told you, that I didn't want you to go near my daughter, ever! I still mean it!" He laughed at her. It was impossible to take her seriously. She had disgraced herself so willingly for him. How could she even consider him taking her seriously. It was ridiculous.
"When is she going to join us?" he demanded. He ignored her stupid protests.
Her head dangled over the block. "Never!"
Stan could ignore her foolish posturing no longer. "Never he? Okay. Well, never again come around here looking for my stiff prick to sooth you. Because, until you set something up that includes that sweet, fucky daughter of yours, we are through! Do you understand that? Through!"
Stan slapped her ass hard. "Get up, get dressed and get out!" He walked to the front of the store. His huge weapon of a prick was neatly tucked into his briefs. He prepared to reopen the store.
Joan sniffled, rubbed at her wounds and dressed. She knew that he wouldn't say goodbye to her, so she just walked past him with her head lowered. She walked out to the street.
"Scotty's" reopened.
CHAPTER FIVE
Joan Withers thought about what Stan Scott had said to her. He was serious. He wanted to have a sex scene with both her and her daughter, Wendy! It seemed unbelievable. Her daughter was still a virgin! And this bastard wanted to get her involved in a three way thing that included her mother. Incredible!
She would not permit this to happen, under any circumstances. It was too much. She wanted Stan again. In fact, she felt a craving for his special kind of abuse already. She had just left him and she wanted to back for more! But she knew that she had had more than enough for the time being. She would get in touch with him somehow in the very near future. Probably, the next day.
But he had said that he didn't want anymore to do with her until she had arranged their triad love thing. He didn't mean that! She would be able to still carry on with him. He would turn her off because she would not permit her daughter to involve herself in their perverse relationship.
But Joan was in for a surprise. For the next two weeks, Stan would ignore her and treat her just as if nothing had happened between them. Joan thought she was going crazy. She'd go into the store knowing that she would be the only customer. Stan would be polite and speak to her as Mrs. Withers. He never came out from behind the counter again. It was all business. He was twisting her all up. He knew what he was doing. She had to set up something with her daughter and him, if he was to speak to pick his sadistic affair with her.
Bill was spending more and more time at the shop. Wendy's involvements with after-school activities seemed to take up more of her time.
Joan finished her housework early. She'd go to different shops and take care of various sundry chores. Every day, about two-thirty she'd consider going to a grocer other than "Scotty's."
But after a few minutes, she'd find herself on her way to his small store. It all looked very harmless. But beneath the surface of this innocent scene were the dark demands of Stan Scott. He would not compromise. Joan was to make the next move. She was the one who wanted to continue her perverted affair with Stan. He could live without her. But she felt a strong need for his monstrous, punishing prick. She'd spend inordinate amounts of time thinking about it. She wanted it badly. But not badly enough to arrange for the scene Stan wanted.
After awhile though, she felt like crawling the walls. She'd pace the floors of her house. She had to get to Stan. One day she left a note on the windshield of his car. It just had her name on it with a telephone number. He didn't call. She made an order over the telephone, in the hope that he'd deliver it. He didn't.
He was keeping the pressure on. He figured that it was just a matter of time. He was right.
He had lit a fire within Joan. She had come to a new awareness about herself. All of the sexuality that she had suppressed over the years had now risen to the surface. But she had no place to release it. It was more than frustrating. She needed a release. And soon!
She found herself flirting more and more when she was shopping in the downtown section of Winstone. There were always new faces in the town. People were always passing through on their way up to Bar Harbor. She chatted with more than a few horny looking businessmen but nothing ever came of it. Her affair with Stan Scott was the first extramarital one of her life. Sometimes, she didn't even consider that an affair at all. It was more of a "thing." It left a bad taste in her mouth, but certainly heated up her crotch!
She had to get off! Her husband couldn't do it. Stan wouldn't do it, unless Joan met his conditions. What could she do?
She began to find herself in bed alone during the day. She started to masturbate at least once a day. But that only made her cravings worse. She had to have a strong, hard prick soon. She felt like pulling her hair out. Something had to be done about her situation.
She found a temporary release on one particularly boring Monday. It was around noon. She was lying in her bed. She had just finished masturbating. The doorbell rang. She quickly put on an old, blue terry-cloth robe.
She called out to the unknown person ringing it, that she would be down in a minute. She slipped into her shower thongs and walked down the stairs. She puffed up her hair and looked in the small mirror she kept by the door. She opened the door.
Standing there was a nervous looking young man of about twenty. She knew right away that he was a salesman. She had seen him around the neighborhood before. He had never come to her house as far as she knew.
She usually had a very strict policy towards salesman. No matter what it was they sold, she was not interested. How did she know if the salesman was legitimate? For all she knew, he could have been a mad rapist. Her husband had left strict orders with her about salesman. She was not to let anyone in. It was an intelligent attitude.
But the young man standing in front of her was so harmless looking. He had that classic "working my way through college look" to him. He stood about five feet eleven and weighed around one hundred and fifty pounds. His hair was blond and curly. His eyes were blue. His features were soft and full. He looked like a nice kid.
Joan looked at him maternally. He was very handsome but very nervous.
"Yes?" she said softly.
"Good afternoon, Ma'am. My name is David Anderson. I represent The Arco Publishing Corporation. We have been doing a survey of the neighborhood. I've spoken to many of your neighbors already. We would, I mean, my company would like to know the names of the publications you and your family read."
Joan looked at him up and down. He really turned the horny woman on. She knew that he was nervous and anxious to make a sale. She thought about her situation, her life and her largely unsatisfied needs.
"Well, Mr. Anderson, I'm not exactly sure what my family reads. We certainly get enough magazines already. If you could come if for a minute I could tell you exactly what we have in the house.
The young man entered the house meekly. He held onto his large satchel. It contained the magazines that he wanted to sell to the woman. She felt her legs begin to open with desire as she looked at him.
"Come into the living room please. We can go through what I have together."
Joan led the way. The young man followed behind. They sat in the living room. She lifted all the magazines from the large coffee table in front of the couch and laid them on her lap. She went through each one of them. After she read the name out of a particular publication, she would place it on the lap of the nervous salesman.
He began to sense Joan's boredom and loneliness. It made him feel more at ease and confident. She had time to spend with him. It was a hell of a lot better than getting doors slammed in your face.
Joan's robe was partially open. The salesman saw the top of her black bra. Her thin, elegant legs were exposed up and above her knees. He began to feel his penis getting hard. He had heard all about the horny housewives some of the older salesmen had encountered over the years, but this was the first one he had ever met.
She looked at him and smiled. "Well, I guess that's all the publications that my little family reads!"
She seemed to be anxious to please the young man. Her smile grew. The salesman went into his pitch.
For the next twenty minutes, he told her about how her life would be radically changed if she read the magazines he was selling.
There would no subject of human interest that she would now know about. She would become so well versed in so many areas, that she would become an intellectual overnight and dazzle all of her friends. She'd be invited to different parties and be described later as clever, witty and incisive. It would all be so grand.
Joan heard nothing he said. She was thinking about his prick. She considered its size. A man's hands were usually a good indication of how large the man's penis was. David's hands were quite large.
She wanted this young man and she was going to get him. One way or another. Suddenly, she stood up. "Gee, Mr. Anderson. Your offer sounds very exciting. I'd have to think about this a little bit. But right now, I'm a bit thirsty. I'm going to get myself a cold drink. Can I offer you anything?"
"Do you have any soda?" I think that would be nice." David was beginning to relax with the situation.
Joan could sense it too. She smiled and stopped at the kitchen door. "I was thinking of something stronger than soda, Mr. Anderson!"
She was becoming more coy with every word and step.
David didn't want to seem impolite. "Oh, okay! Whatever you have will be fine! Thank you!"
When she disappeared behind the kitchen's swinging door, David appraised the situation. If he played his cards right, he might get fucked that afternoon. He couldn't argue with that.
He wasn't married so he didn't have to answer to anyone. He knew that she was though. That scared him a little bit, but he figured that if she was up for some quick sex, she must be sure that he would not be home for some time. She returned to the living room at that second.
"Well now! Here we are!" In her hand she carried two, large drinks. Ice cubes clinked against the sides of the glasses.
She handed one of them to her guest and sat down right next to him. She began to relax. She leaned back on the couch. She looked into her glass. Suddenly, she looked up straight into his young eyes. She was itchy for some hot sex.
"How old are you, Mr. Anderson?"
"Call me David," he replied with false affection. His prick saw only a body, not a lonely person. "Twenty-two."
For a second he considered asking her how old she was but decided it wouldn't be too smart. The broad was probably brought down about so many things. Her age was undoubtedly one of them.
They talked for about half an hour. David sensed her need for some sex. As the alcohol from his drink took some of the starch out of his manner, he noticed the soft, firm flesh of her stomach. She had opened her robe!
Joan was quite aware of what she did! She was growing impatient. She'd given the boy so many openings. He hadn't really picked up on one of them. She looked at the clock. It was a few minutes after one o'clock. Time was important here.
David moved closer to her on the couch. He placed his arm around her. She breathed a sigh of relief. He was finally beginning to respond to her.
"Your first name is Joan, isn't it?" David said.
"How did you know?" she responded.
He looked at her very seriously. His cock was really throbbing in his pants. He was only twenty-two, but he was cool. It was difficult controlling oneself in such a situation. They kissed.
Joan's robe fell open. David moved his arm around her twisting waist. He felt incredible heat rising from her body. She twisted her body onto his and in seconds, he had her lying flat out on the couch. He dry humped her open, willing pussy.
He couldn't believe this was happening. He felt like a real stud. He felt like he had seduced the woman, not the other way around.
She pushed him off of her. "Let's do this right! Follow me!" She then led him up the stairs into her own bedroom. She placed her wedding picture face down on the dresser the way she had on that first day with Stan three weeks before that very moment. She walked to the window and pulled down the yellow shade. She looked at David. Her mouth watered when she saw a huge bulge in his pants. She wanted that thing in them alright!
She took off her open robe. Her panties and bra were both white. They were very tight and small. They clung to her elegant, lean body with a taut firmness. David's huge boner shot off a small wad of scum in his pants.
She knew that she was turning him on very heavily. She also knew that she was in control. She moved to him and began to pull his suit jacket off. He got the hint and began to undress.
She backed away from him as he undressed. Her fingers slid under the tight fabric of her panties. They began to play with the soft folds of her pussy. She was really hot for a dick. The one she would be getting in just a few minutes would be young and she hoped bigger than Stan's. Seeing that all David wore were his tight, white briefs, she buried three of her fingers into her hot box. Her legs were open and so was her mouth. She began to grind her cunt in the direction of David's crotch.
As she looked at him squarely in the eyes, she slipped the panties down over her soft and swelling thighs. She turned around as she did this David shot off another small wad of come in his pants. His mouth watered as he saw that ass of hers. She began to stoop over. She opened the cheeks of her ass and showed him her large asshole. It seemed to talk to his prick in a secret language.
She turned her head towards him as she grinded her buttocks in teasing rhythms. At that instant he lifted his hot bobber from his straining briefs. The prick that came out was huge. She was happy. She hadn't had a prick in so long, she had forgotten what it felt like.
David moved towards to her. He straddled her rump and put his hot boner between her legs. The prick wanted her pussy first.
Joan moved to her dresser and spread her legs out as far as she could. "Come on, David! Take care of me! Give it to me!" She grinded her ass right up to his bobbing joint.
Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror that ran along the length of the dresser. David saw a pleading in her eyes. She wanted that prick of his so bad. He stood right behind her and placed right into the soft folds of her twat. It nestled its way into her twat. He saw her face tense. She began to bite her lower lip. She saw his face grow mean. She knew what it signaled. She closed her eyes and threw back her head. He. slid it to her.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned. "It's been so long!"
She stood on her tip-toes as he drilled her with the whole length of his rod. Its slide seemed to go on and on. Joan twisted and swayed on the stem. Her ass cheeks flushed as his balls dangled between her thighs. She reached down and fondled them. David felt her hand on his balls and moaned. She was gentle. She had experience.
Her lips puckered as he explored her quivering cunt with his young, hard prick. She began to grind her foaming cunt onto his pumping cock. She was getting relief. The strained wrinkles in her forehead began to fade. His joint rolled around her and gave her whole body a warm glow. It rose from her cunt and spread through her whole body.
He felt his boner about to shoot off in her cunt. She could sense it too. The veins at its sides swelled as blood rushed through them. His balls grew as they prepared to shoot the young man's semen up through the throbbing length of his prick. Her soft, hairless skin moved smoothly around and around. Her body was moving like a woman. She felt like one too. The thing inside of her was a magic wand to the horny woman. She was transformed from a sex-hungry woman to a sweet purring pussy. She swooned as she savored the meaty, thick thing within her. She tried to sit on it. It moved further up her willing pussy. It began to move faster and faster. Its plungings seemed to be deeper and deeper. She started losing control of it as it moved within her. It was growing meaner and stronger with every hump. She felt herself begin to wilt. Her eyes closed.
The thing had her pussy in control. She didn't fight it though. She remembered how well Stan could do it to her. Her memories faded as David's prick shot off.
Her eyes opened and bulged. She was lifted right off the floor as his cock shot hot ripples of pleasures through her body. She saw David's face in the mirror. It was tensed and contorted. His eyes were closed. He was hard at work behind her. He cock was bursting off within. He was giving it to her, righteously!
Her body collapsed on the dresser and moved only with the push of the flesh fucker deep within her. She knocked bottles of perfume brushes, combs and various other feminine things from the dresser. She was getting plowed and was out of her mind with pleasure.
"Ahhhhhhhhh! Ram it up my cunt hole!" she moaned. She wanted it all. Droplets of come dripped onto the expensive rug right below her cunt. She regretted not being able to consume every drop of his hot juice. The young stud sure had a lot to give! She never had such a large load of the hot stuff. The pleasure was overwhelming.
When he had finished, he pulled his thing from her. She held onto the dresser top. Slowly, she slipped from it. David caught her wasted body just as it was about to hit the floor. He picked her up and lay her onto the bed. She looked up at him gratefully. He had fucked her very well!
But she still wanted more. David's prick was quite large. She wanted it up her ass. She wanted it immediately.
"David?" she asked sensuously. She genuinely liked this boy. "Your thing is beautiful! Please. Please, give it to me again."
It really wasn't such a heavy request on the young stud. He had much more strength in his young boner. In fact, he hadn't even lost it. Sure, it had gone limp when he pulled it from her twat, but by the time he lay her on the bed it was rip-roaring hot once more. He moved towards her again. She sensed that he was ready for another sound fuck job. But she had not explained what she really wanted.
Instead of words, she chose to explain herself with actions. Before he reached for her, she managed to turn over on her stomach. She lifted her ass up and held her cheeks apart. She wanted it where Stan gave it to her for the first time.
She held her ass cheeks wide open. Her asshole was open, dark and ready. It craved to be plugged with the boy's hot prick. . He recoiled from the act. "You want me to stick it up your ass? I thought that you liked to fuck dog-style. I never did that to anyone!"
"Well, I'll be the first one. Now come on! Ram that thing into me!"
Gee, I don't know?" he replied with childish naivete.
Joan was getting angry. "Look you little fucker! Ram it up my ass! Ram it as far as it will go! It's open! Shove that fucking thing as far up my ass as you can! Sodomize me, you hard Cocked mother-fucker."
Sweet Joan had become a hot, little mamma. She could thank Stan for that.
Joan's hot, quivering ass was held high on the bed. She shook and carried on. Stan had really gotten to her. Sex was becoming her obsession. She spat demanding, pleading, twisted words from her foaming mouth. Her teeth were exposed like a bitch in heat.
"Plow my asshole! Make it disappear into my hole! I'll take it all!"
She then began to make some muffled, incoherent sounds as she buried her frenzied face on the ruffled sheets of the bed.
David's hot boner was bursting! Could he fit his thing into her! He suddenly saw her hand dart up to her hole and wet it from her own saliva. She was ready.
He decided that he'd do it. He rested the tip of his red love muscle at the edge of her crack. Hungry hands darted at it and began to shove it into her opening. He stood there,-aghast. The twisting hands managed to get the hot tip of Iris joint into her opening. She began to pull it into her. He just stood there. He didn't know what to do.
She screamed. "Ram me you stupid kid! Just slam your pelvis!" David leaned into her. His thing struggled at the walls of her ass hole. It was rough going!
"Your hurting me so much! Give it to me right! Just ram it up my hole you idiot! You hard-dicked, soft headed idiot! Just ram me!"
-She provoked him enough. He grew angry. "You horny bitch! Here you go! Here it is for your asshole, you disgusting slut!"
He slammed his prick into her. He grunted as it fought its way through the constricting walls of her anus. The utter perversity of the act got the fair-haired boy sick. His cock felt good though. He knew he'd be coming soon. The fact that he'd enjoy that couldn't be denied. But she herself got him sick. She was so amoral about the act. It was too much for his frail sensibilities. His disgust turned to contempt and scorn. Little did her knew that's what Joan really got off on! He shouted at her.
"You do this with the mailman, the milkman, the garbage man, the guy who delivers your groceries! I bet they all ass fuck you raw, you filthy whore!"
"That's right, you little fucker! But right now, I'm just fucking the grocer! And I'll tell you something else! His prick is a lot bigger than your little worm!"
She was really manipulating him. '"Little worm' he? This little worm is a night crawler!"
He plowed her ass again and again. It even managed to go further into her than it was already. David was putty in her perverted hands. She challenged him. "That fucking worm can't go any further into me!"
David was tricked again. "Oh yeah, cunt! Here's my worm again! Now it's a crawling king snake!" He slammed into her again. His prick moved even further into her asshole.
She curled her body into a ball on the bed. Her ass was held as high as she could. David shook over her. He came. He lost his balance and fell right on top of her. His hot, young semen shot far and wide into her. It probed at the base of her tingling spine. It made her tits stand erect. It forced her come to bubble and burst, spraying the bed's sheets with the hot juices from her own pussy. His ramming pricking made her grab at her cunt bone for leverage. Her hands were immediately soaked with her come goo, as the swelling pleasures of her own orgasm covered her whole body.
David felt like a conqueror at last. He lifted his heaving, young body off the cringing, coming woman. She didn't care anymore. Her own body was experiencing the very private joys of climax. Her body seethed with ecstatic delights. She swooned and rolled around the bed. She'd been fucked straight, and up the ass. She was temporarily released from her cravings. She felt a rush. Her sex habit had been "fixed" for the moment, at least.
David looked at her. She got him sick to his stomach. He looked at his prick. Joan was a very clean woman but her rectum had left a ring around David's rod. He went to the dazed, hot, bitch on the bed and wiped his prick off on the soft flesh of her right buttock. He dressed, left the room and the house.
She lay there for half an hour after she heard the front door slam. David's prick fucked her cunt nicely. But he ass fucked her like a boy scout. She needed a man's prick in her ass. It would have to be a prick that would not take no for an answer. She would suffer at its brutal strength, but thrill at its cruel ramming and tremendous size.
"Stan," she said out loud.
He was the only one who could do her right He was the only one who could make her feel truly vanquished. She believed that by being made absolutely subject to his monstrous manhood she would feel the ultimate pleasures nature afforded to the female of the species.
"David," she said out loud.
She felt a building scorn for the young man. He was gone and good riddance! His prick was much too small and timid for her. She had to have the ultimate!
"Stan," she said out a second time.
She wanted his prick. Her twat and asshole would not be complete before it had his hot thing again. It was necessary for her psyche that she be whipped by his merciless prick again.
But his conditions! Wendy! She couldn't involve her own daughter in a scene like the one Stan proposed. She couldn't! She wouldn't! It was beyond her imagination to see young, sweet, virginal Wendy sucking on Stan's huge boner. If she ever saw that evil bastard stick his pumping, wasting stake into the tender, soft flesh of Wendy, she'd just die!
But she wanted Stan more that anything before in her small-town existence. He instilled her body with a new zest for living. She saw things in a different light after he worked her over with that thing of his. She had to have it!
"Wendy," she said aloud.
Would she dance with the devil to get a second chance with Stan's dick? Her mind raced and filled with twisted images. She felt like a truly evil person. The loneliness of that state of mind was overwhelming. But somehow, she managed to hustle her own mind. She rationalized her deepest thoughts powerless. She had permitted herself to be abused and humiliated by this man. Now, she would commit an even more sinister act. She would give up her daughter to the evil Stan for a second chance at that dick of his.
If she only delivered Wendy to him, he would fuck her ass raw. He would leave her bleeding and strangely satisfied. She knew what she had to do.
"Wendy," she said aloud for the last time.
CHAPTER SIX
Joan knew what she had to do. It would take some planning but she could do it. Wendy trusted her completely. Her husband, Bill, was out of the picture. He had reduced himself to a minor force in the household. He supplied money and the requirements of life, but Joan had been leading a separate life for quite awhile, already. She knew that now. Stan had shown her that. He was of little significance. The following morning she woke up just as her husband was leaving for the shop. He'd be gone for the whole day and most of the night.
She had slept on her decision. It still seemed like the only way. She swallowed hard and began to cry. She was a wretched person. She knew that much about herself. But she had to have Stan's prick within her asshole again. There was only one way. She was terrified at what she must do. She decided that the longer it took for her to muster the intestinal fortitude required for a successful outcome to the evil deed, the harder it would be to do.
She got up from the bed. She walked slowly into her daughter's bedroom. The morning light splashed into the room from the window on the far left side of the room. Of to the right, Wendy slept safely in the darkness. Joan didn't want to wake her on this particular morning.
She crept up to her bedside. Slowly, she brought her elegant body to rest on the edge of her daughter's bed.
Wendy's arm was exposed. It was thin, and creamy white. It had a certain delicate beauty. The hand that attached to it was relaxed but partially closed. She was very still. Joan heard her breathing very faintly.
Joan touched the soft folds of hair that partially covered her daughter's beautiful face. The girl was imperially vulnerable as she slept. Joan lifted the hair away from her relaxed face.
The girl's lips were closed. They quivered ever so slightly as her nostrils inhaled a small but steady flow of air.
The young woman never looked so lovely to Joan.
Joan turned her face away from her daughter. She could not even gaze at her beautiful countenance honestly anymore. She had decided to perform one of the most hateful acts one woman could do to another.
"Mother? You scared me!" Wendy touched her mother's shoulder.
"You're crying! Why? Why are you crying, Mother?"
Joan couldn't face her daughter. Wendy would not be denied.
"Mother?" she continued. "What's the matter?"
Wendy's voice contained more than sincere love. Within its timbre were touches of mild anger and impatience. She deserved to know what was going on in her mother's head. It was her birthright!
Joan turned back to her daughter. Her head was lowered.
"Never forget that I love you even more than I love myself. Never forget that. No matter what happens!"
Wendy became frightened. "Is everything okay between you and Dad?
Joan composed herself. She blew her nose into the wet tissue she held in her shaking hand. The woman refused to address herself to her daughter's inquiry.
"It's around the time to get up, dear. Start getting yourself ready for school. I'll have breakfast ready for you when you get downstairs."
Joan got up and left the room. Wendy watched her mother as she left. It was unlike her to act that way. Wendy suddenly felt a chill run through her entire body. She looked towards the window. It was open. Erroneously, that's where she cast the blame. The morning was without a breeze.
Half an hour later, Wendy bounded down the stairs. She had the same eye for fashion her mother had. Maybe that's why so many people made note of the striking similarities between the two women. Perhaps it could explain why so many men of all ages yearned for the lovely young woman's body. Maybe that was the reason why Stan wanted to fuck her so furiously. "Mother! What have you done? You didn't have to. What's today, my birthday or something? Today isn't my birthday!"
Before her stood quite a breakfast. Joan had hurried downstairs, taken out the good china, set the table and prepared Wendy her favorite breakfast.
"French Toast, bacon, sausages, orange juice and milk! My favorite! How come Mother? Is this my last meal or something?"
Wendy laughed heartily. She was a little disappointed when her Mother didn't.
Joan stood over the table and arranged and rearranged the various cups, saucers and plates resting there. Steam heat rose from the French Toast. The table was filled with food.
"Sit, Wendy. Your food is getting cold!" Joan still sounded nervous and anxious. Wendy shrugged her shoulders and sat down to a terrific breakfast.
She was a well-mannered child. Joan had made sure of that. But sometimes within the privacy of her own home, she could be very sloppy.
"Will you please finish what's in your mouth, before you shove in another forkful! You will suffocate yourself!"
Joan's voice was full of concern and maternal affection. She had been a good mother to her only child, up until the previous night. It was then that she had made her decision. Stan would get the sweet, young virgin. It would be an atrocity to motherhood. But Joan's horny state was in anarchy! She had to have that incredibly, large, penetrating, punishing prick again. At all costs!
Joan began to try to be as objective as possible. Before her sat a beautiful fourteen-year-old girl. She knew very little about sex. She was going to find out quite a lot, very soon. The issue at hand though, was how? She just couldn't tell her daughter that she was going to sexually abused by her grocer!
The whole thing began to seem more outrageous every moment.
Wendy flipped a large, cluster of shiny, clean hair from her young breasts, over her shoulder.
"This is the best you ever made, Mother! Hey! You're not eating yourself! C'mon have some!" Wendy wanted to share the fine food with her mother. Somehow, Joan could not bring herself to do it.
"I'm really not very hungry, dear. You eat." Joan raised her hand in mild encouragement to her happy, eating daughter.
Wendy looked so hopeful,-optimistic and full of life. Joan remembered how she heard some politician once say that the youth of America was the hope of the world. Joan could always see the reality of the idea whenever she looked at her daughter. The girl just bubbled with life. She was always moving. But not in an offensive, tiresome way. She was true to her adolescence yet she possessed the charm of a woman. She was a charming, jubilant girl and was destined to be very beautiful. No "femme fatale," mind you, but a beautiful woman, indeed!
"Mother! This is a super breakfast!" Wendy was really brought up by the whole thing, and looked like she could handle anything the world had to offer, that day. The meal seemed to give her strength. Joan saw it grow in the girl's eyes, as she ate.
"Come on! Here's your bus!" Joan rose from the table as she saw the big, yellow vehicle pull up in back of the house. The sound of the bus's horn was so very annoying, Joan would try to get her daughter out of the house before the driver started pushing on the thing.
Wendy put one more fork-full of the dripping toast into her mouth, gulped her milk and rose from the table. She went to her mother and kissed her tenderly. "Thanks, Mother. Have a good day. I'll see you after school."
The girl picked her books off the counter by the sink and bounded through the door. She was on the bus in seconds. Then she was gone.
Joan went back to the table. She looked at the remaining bits of toast on her daughter's plate. The syrup that had soaked it formed a thick pool in the white dish. Joan picked up the sticky fork resting in it. She stood it erect. There it stood. She took her hand away and let the fork fall into the thick, light pool. It settled immediately there.
She ran her fingers through her hair. Finally, she rose from the table and went into the hallway that ran next to the stairs leading upstairs. She picked up the black telephone receiver and began to dial.
"Good morning, Stan. How are you?" She tried to sound casual and unconcerned. "I think that we can arrange something concerning that special order we spoke about. I'd like you to bring over a few things this morning, and we can talk about it. Okay?"
Stan knew what she was talking about. His joint lodged within his pants became rock hard almost immediately.
"Good, Mrs. Withers. I'll see you in about an hour!" He was eager for that "special order!"
For the next sixty minutes, dear Joan straightened up the house and prepared herself for her grocer's visit. They had some heavy business to take care of.
She dressed rapidly and managed to look like the attractive, young housewife. It was a role she could play very well. She'd been doing it for the past fourteen years. Sometimes she'd think that she'd been doing it all of her life.
At exactly nine thirty, the doorbell rang. "Stan!" she said out loud.
She raced down the stairs and stopped short by the front door. She saw his figure outside. He moved from side to side impatiently. He held a large, cardboard box full of groceries. She thought of making believe she was not at home. He would go away in a few minutes if she did. She could just resume her regular life style and try her best to forget her recent descent into sexual decadence. It would not be easy but it would not be impossible, either.
She opened the door. "Well! I see you are right on time. Come on in!"
Stan walked right past her and into the kitchen. He put the food on the table and stood erect. "That will be twelve dollars and forty-five cents." His manner was so business like. It disturbed Joan. That was exactly what Stan wanted it to do. He'd been twisting her head into some strange contortions for the past few weeks.
She stood for a minute and then she collapsed into the sturdy kitchen chair that she had pulled away from the round, oak table.
"Stan, you and I both know why you are here! Why must we continue to play this game? Isn't it about time, we just stopped this?"
"Why, Mrs. Withers! I don't know what you are talking about! Your bill is twelve-dollars and forty-five cents. If you would like me to go over the items you bought, I'd be glad to."
Joan was starting to go crazy. She couldn't stand this little game any longer. She had to have his cock! She was willing to give the cruel bastard her only daughter, in order to get it! She began to wonder in the whole thing was just a figment of her imagination. She looked around her and tried to hold onto herself. It was not easy. She rose to her feet and went to her. She stood in front of her cruel lover and put her hands on her hips. It proved to be a vain act of defiance.
"You and I both know why you are here! We have to discuss Wendy! You want her so bad? Eh? Your perverted...."
Her voice broke off as "Scotty" slapped her right across the face. She fell to the floor like a sniveling pup. She lay there looking up at her grocer. He look very mean. He also looked totally unconcerned about Joan.
"Mrs. Withers. I'm sorry, I had to do that, but you seemed a little hysterical. I thought it might cool you off a bit." He continued to play his game with her. He just loved to do this to women. Especially, if he had fucked them already, and they wanted more. They usually did. He specialized in bored wives. They seemed to be the ones who could be the most freaky. He had to be very cool all the time. His business was important to him. He did have four boys to support. And a wife he happened to loathe. He believed that some women craved punishment. He usually could pick them out.
Joan Withers, despite her calm and refined demeanor, was such a woman. He had known it for years. But her waited for the right time to make his play with. He had handled his whole sordid affair with her very well.
He started for the door. "I'll just put the cost of these items on your bill, Mrs. Withers. You don't seem to be feeling very good today, anyway. So, if there is nothing else, I'll be on my way."
Joan got up from the floor and raced to the door. She managed to dash in front of him. She put her back to the door and spread out her hands. Tears were in her eyes.. All her doubts were gone. She was completely committed to her evil deed, now.
"Wendy! You want her! I'm going to give her to you! Isn't that what you wanted? She's yours! But please! Don't do what you are doing to me anymore! I can't take it! I think I'm going crazy!"
Stan took her in his arms and rocked her gently. She closed her arms around him in perverse gratitude. She surrendered to him.
He eased her over to the couch in the middle of the room. He sat her down and stroked her face gently. He began to speak to her very softly.
"So? You have decided to do it? You have made the right choice. You will be happy when I give you what you need and want. But you must tell me exactly what will happen between the three of us."
Joan didn't understand. It was understood, as far as she knew, that Stan would be the center of a three way sex scene. Why talk about it? That would make it even harder to handle.
"Come on now, Joan. Tell me what is going to happen between us."
Joan understood now. Stan wanted her to suffer even more than she was already. She began to sob. Through the sobs, however she spoke.
"Wendy will fuck for you. She will spread her legs for you. She will wrap them around your waist and hump your thing until it shoots off in her young, virginal pussy. You will break her hymen and she will scream in ecstatic pain. I can't say anymore!"
She broke off and began to sob. Stan was far from satisfied. The hot, huge prick steaming in her pants wanted to hear more from the pathetic wretch sitting beside him. He would not be denied.
"Tell me more, Mrs. Withers. I'd like to be sure that we both understand each other."
She looked at his uncompromising eyes. She resumed her sinful monologue. "She will suck you off! She will take your prick and chew on it! She will fondle you swollen balls and drop them into her mouth. Then she will stick her tongue right up your asshole. She will ream you out like you have never been reamed out before. She will open her young, erect thighs and steer your monstrous prick right up her asshole. You will come all over her and she will shake and shudder in the masculine joy you will give her!"
As she continued her words she looked up and gasped. Stan was resting back in the couch and was whacking off his exposed prick. Joan's words had fired his imagination so much, that he was whacking off! She couldn't believe it. At the same time she felt a warm rush in her pussy. The thing that she craved was inches away from her. She was overwhelmed with desire.
She fell to her knees and lowered her head on his throbbing prick. She caught the rhythm of his squeezing hand immediately. Up and down her head began to bob. The thing felt bigger than ever. She jammed her hand down the front of her jeans and began to finger herself. The thing in her mouth would shoot off its hot juice any minute and she would find the relief she had craved for.
She was really getting off. The thing in her mouth went far into her throat. She tried to consume it all even though she felt herself gag of it. She wanted it all. Deep into her throat the thing roamed. It was caressed by the elastic walls of her throat.
Her legs were open and she rammed her fingers deeper and deeper into her throat. She was in ecstasy. The hot cock she had so longed for, was hers! She lusted for his hot scum. Her body began to squirm. It needed his hot, white, sticky fluid.
She cupped his balls in one hand and held onto his thing with the other. She only wished she had three hands so she could finger herself at the same time. Then she could time her own orgasm with his. Her tongue wrapped around the fiery tip of his pumping thing. She tried to ram her tongue down the tiny slit of his thing. It was beginning to open. She knew what that signaled. His hot stuff would be flowing soon. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her mouth gaped open to consume the entire length of his thing.
Her throat swallowed hard fixating on imaginary globs of hot shooting come. She wanted him to come in her mouth for hours. She loved the force and speed of the shooting droplets. The salty taste thrilled her. She savored the taste and only regretted when she felt a drop of the stuff escape her sucking, swallowing mouth.
Suddenly, though, she felt his strong leg rise above her. His booted foot rested on her shoulder. He kicked at her hard and she felt her body tumble and roll over on its side. She could understand what was happening. Wasn't she giving her master lover pleasure? Was he unpleased? She was confused and disappointed. She wanted that cock alright!
Stan began to speak. "Oh, no you don't! No more, horny bitch! You are not getting anymore until you make a date for the three of us to get together!"
But the cruel, discipline-minded Stan couldn't stop the flow of his own sexuality when it had started. His strong, large, hairy hand returned to his steaming thing. He continued to whack off.
Joan wanted to close her mouth around his cock again. But she knew that he didn't want her to. So, she just lay there on the floor fingering herself, as Stan continued to whack himself off. She was in agony when she saw him groan and begin shooting off his hot come. She saw it all go to waste. Onto the floor and couch it flew. She wanted it. His eyes were still closed. She couldn't resist.
On her hands and knees she crawled to the feet of her cruel lover. She spied the hot droplets of come on the floor. She knelt over them and lowered her face right up to them. Then her lapping tongue would dart out from her face and begin to lick up the hot goblets. Into her mouth she would lift them. Her lips would smack with delight as she swallowed the scum juice. She loved it now.
Stan just kept shooting off his hot scum. His face was beginning relax. He was nearing the end of his orgasm. She wanted to get at the freshest, hottest droplets of come as they flew out of his prick. One or two landed in her hair. She couldn't get at them but that was alright. She had enough to keep her busy on the floor.
When her had finished, he looked down at the scum sucking woman at his feet. He hated her. When she was a distant customer who would rarely even give a sincere smile, he loved her. She seemed so perfect.
She seemed highly desirable then. But now, as she knelt at his feet sucking his scum right off the floor, she was a contemptible slut. He wanted to piss on her. She would have accepted it too. So much of her self-respect and dignity had left her in the previous weeks, it didn't matter, anyway.
He stood up abruptly, and resumed his walk to the door. She just lay there on her knees. He turned as he reached the door.
"Today is Tuesday. This Friday night, meet me in the Triad Motel on Route Nine. You check with the desk clerk for my room number. I'll give you my prick alright. But you better have Wendy with you and she better be ready for a fucking, sucking time, or else! You understand, I'm sure, Mrs. Withers."
He closed the door behind him and was gone. She wiped a hot droplet of scum from her lips and lay down on the couch. In three days Wendy must be ready.
Joan swallowed again. Stan's hot come filled her stomach with a satisfied warmth. She wanted that thing of his right up her gaping ass hole again. She decided that she would talk to her daughter that afternoon.
Wendy got home that night around six o'clock. Joan had her daughter's dinner all ready for her. She ate heartily and talked to her mother about her day's activities. She was typically full of life. Joan loved to see her daughter this way.
After dinner, Joan asked her daughter to come into the living room with her. Joan said she had something important to discuss with her virginal daughter. Her evil plan began to unfold. She began to speak.
"Wendy, dear. Do you remember a couple of weeks ago, you were asking about how babies are born?" Wendy nodded affirmatively. How reluctant I was to discuss the matter with you then. But now, things have changed. I still find it difficult to talk about sex, but I want you to learn about it. There's this friend of your mother's who is going to help. This Friday night, you and I are going to meet him and we will have our first lesson. It will be enjoyable and educational. Okay?"
Wendy was very excited. She'd been hearing all kinds of strange things about sex in school lately, and found much of it to be very interesting. She would learn about it first-hand with her mother teaching her. She liked the idea very much. It made her feel strangely grown up. While her friends were learning about sex in the gutter, she would learn about it with her mother's help. She would have to fight her growing embarrassment, every time she wished to talk about sex. She looked forward to the upcoming educational evening. It would be very exciting, she was sure.
The following two days passed without incident. Joan and Wendy both knew what was upcoming, but they tried not to talk about it.
Friday afternoon however, was another story. As soon as Wendy got home, Joan began to prepare the girl for the evening's activities. It would be an exciting evening for all three of them.
First, she had sweet Wendy take a steaming hot bath. She insisted that her daughter wash her hair, too. Joan was in the bathroom the whole time. She scrubbed the teen's back and neck and helped her rinse out her hair. Joan made sure that the girl was cleaner than she ever been in her young, fourteen year old life.
Dear old Mom dried and styled Wendy's shiny, wavy hair. It looked beautiful. Next came the young girl's clothing. Joan had prepared specially for this. She made sure that her daughter looked alluring in a real fucky way.
First she had the young girl put on a new set of underwear. Wendy wondered why they were so small. The bra was two full sizes small for Wendy's budding, young breasts. The matching panties stretched nearly to the breaking point across Wendy's tight, erect ass and sweet, young pussy. They almost hurt, they were so tight. Their color was bright red. Joan had chosen these colors to match Wendy's fingernail polish. Wendy was very compliant to her mother's wishes. The young teen was excited. Tonight would be very special. She was going to learn about sex from adults who knew it well and true. No more crazy rumors would assault her young mind. She would know for sure. She wasn't sure what she was getting dressed for, but her mother was always kind and probably had her own best wishes at heart.
"Now honey, I'm going to put something on you that you may never have seen before. It is going to be very tight but I know you won't mind. It might even hurt a little bit, but you'll suffer for my sake won't you?"
Wendy looked at her mother with complete trust. "Yes, Mother. Anything!"
From a new cardboard box, that Joan drew out from under the bed, came something Wendy had never seen before. Joan held it up high. The thin, white paper flew away from it in a muffled flurry of sound. Joan looked at the thing very seriously. Then she looked at her daughter's body.
"Okay, honey. Let's put it on."
"How? What is it?" Wendy replied.
"It's a corset, dear!" Joan responded. "It will make you look very attractive, and very much like a woman."
The stiff black laced garment was quite small. The waist was cinched tight and the 'part that supported its wearer's torso was lined with thick strands of a heavy, bone-like substance.
It would taper Wendy's perfect torso and lift her young, firm breasts to even greater, more sensual heights. Joan slipped it around her daughter's body. Wendy stood up and held her hair over her head. She was staring in the mirror at her fantastic body. It was beginning to look more sensual and alluring with every snap of the binding garment.
Joan stood behind her daughter and worked very hard. The corset was even tighter than she had imagined. Her face tensed and her lips tightened. Wendy was beginning to look like a high-priced call girl, not a fourteen-year old high school student.
Surprisingly enough, Wendy was enjoying it. She knew she had a fantastic figure for fourteen. It was only now, with her loving mother's aid, that she was beginning to enjoy it. She felt wonderful.
"Ohhhhh," Wendy moaned as her mother pulled and tugged at her body. The torso pulled her lean, perfect figure into new and exciting curves. Wendy was surely a beauty, to see and feast upon!
When the thing was finally secured to her young body, Wendy noticed the thin strips of material that dangled from the bottom of the thing.
"What are these for, Mother? They look odd!"
Joan was staring at her daughter in the mirror. The youngster looked about nineteen-years old. "I'll show you, right now!"
From the bottom of the box that contained the corset, Joan lifted two, long, fish net stockings. They too looked much too small for the teen's long, lean, elegant legs. "Here, I'll help you get these on," said Joan.
"I've never seen stockings like these before, Mother! I mean only in the movies. All the bar-room girls in old Westerns wear them. They sure are pretty!"
Joan helped young Wendy step into the highly sexual stockings. It was extremely difficult to pull them up to the swell of her upper thighs. The things were at least two sizes too small, too!
"Why did you get this stuff so small?" queried Wendy.
Joan knew that the tighter this garb was the hotter Stan would get. She couldn't tell her daughter that though. "It was the only size they had in the store."
Joan then went into the closet and pulled out an old pair of very high-heeled shoes. They were shiny black and had extremely high heels. The front of them were very sharp. Joan placed them right next to her daughter's small stocking-clad feet.
"Here honey. Step into these."
Obediently, Wendy did so. When she finally stood up on them, Joan's mouth dropped open. The woman had seen pornographic pictures of women dressed in similar things, but none of them had ever looked like her daughter. She was incredible. Joan made the luscious girl walk around the room. Wendy moved with the grace of a young mare. Her buttocks were high and clothed in the tight, red panties. They swayed gracefully with the long, elegant strides of her long, long legs. The fish net stockings tightened and firmed the legs to muscled beauty. Yet, they retained their soft, feminine look. Her ankles were very trim and stood at the bottom of her tapered legs.
Joan felt a small trace of desire for her daughter herself! The teens breasts seemed very large in the propping corset. Her cleavage was twice as big as it had normally been. The corset worked small miracles with the girl's already miraculous body. Her torso tapered to an almost microscopic waist. It was so small and so clearly defined, Joan's mouth watered.
Wendy's hips stood nearly a full eight inches higher than they normally did. The binding corset and the high heels were responsible for that. Her hips swelled out in full, sweeping beauty. The contrast offered by the tiny waist was startling. The waist was so sharp and eye piercing compared to the soft, full, swells of the hips below it that it was a joy to behold.
The garter belt, straps were pulled very tight against the girl's bulging, creamy flesh. They were so taunt, Joan feared that they would snap. She could already see how the stockings were beginning to burst in soft spots.
What was needed now was a make-up job. It would have to match the girl's highly erotic garb. Joan sat the hot teen at her one make-up table. Wendy seemed excited about it.
Joan applied long, thick amounts of eye liner to the girl. Her eyelashes were to be very long and thick. Joan worked feverishly on the young girl's face. It was real work.
When she had finally finished forty-five minutes later, Wendy's face was so seductive looking Joan seriously considered forgetting about Stan altogether.
The thought frightened and disgusted her. But since her decision to give Wendy to Stan, no thought seemed barred from her fevered mind. She felt that she would be consumed by her own sexuality. She also felt that it would be incredibly pleasurable.
Joan had her daughter stand one more time. The young girl looked like she belonged in the stable of New York's most successful pimp. She looked so classy yet slutty. It was a difficult look to capture, but Joan's flair for style had come through again.
Wendy thrilled at her appearance. She had never looked so grown up before. She felt like a woman. The girl had not had her first taste of a man's meat yet, but she was ready and she didn't even know it. She couldn't get her eyes off herself. This young teenaged girl, who still played ball with the boys once in awhile stood in front of the mirror and gazed at her own body in fascinated wonderment. She thrilled to her own appearance. She felt a sharp twinge of pleasure slice through her virginal slit. She didn't understand it, but it certainly felt good.
'Well, as soon as I get dressed we can leave! It won't be long now!" Joan hurried into her own large closet and withdrew a tight pair of velvet slacks that she had reserved for very special occasions. This she put on over a tight set of black, laced bra and panties. She too look quite sensuous. But there was something quite harried and nervous about her appearance.
"Stay here, honey. I'll get out coats." Joan rushed out of the bedroom. Wendy didn't mind at all. In fact, she didn't even hear her mother! She was too busy admiring her own cutting form in the mirror. When Joan returned less than minute later, she handed Wendy a knee-length raincoat. Joan herself wore her waist-length, suede coat.
Wendy was confused. "You mean that's all you want me to wear? I'm not going to wear a dress or anything? I don't understand? Wait a minute!"
Joan was not going to wait a second. She was growing anxious. They would be late if they didn't leave soon. Stan might leave. That would leave Joan disappointed and horny beyond all imagination.
"They will be no waiting! We must go now!"
Joan clutched her daughter by the arm and began to pull the girl towards the door. Wendy accepted her situation but pulled away from her mother anyway. "Let me get this raincoat on anyway, will you?"
In seconds, two women were on their way to the Triad Motel. Wendy was honestly excited about her lesson and Joan was excited about the fact that she would have Stan's huge prick shoved into every opening on her sweating, twinging body.
Neither women would be let down.
Joan swung the car onto Route Nine. Through the darkness and oncoming headlights, they traveled. After about twenty of hurried driving, they saw the large yellow and blue neon lights of the Triad Motel. Joan turned the car into its parking lot and left it running near its office. She tried to look as composed as possible as she walked up to the old desk clerk.
"Good evening! Please tell me what room a Mr. Stan Scott is in?"
As the old man paged through the register, countless thoughts ran through her mind. Would anyone in the place recognize her? Would the man turn on her and demand to know why she was going to see this "Mr. Stan Scott?" Would a cop come bursting through the door and arrest her for corrupting the morals of a minor? The time the old man took seemed like hours. All the while however, she smiled and looked at him. The only thing that may have given her away, was the nervous way she tapped on the man's worn countertop.
Little did-the guilt-ridden woman know what was going on in the old man's mind. He was thinking about the baseball game this woman had taken him from. He couldn't care less was going to on in the privacy of Mr. Stan Scott's room. It wasn't his business.
As long as his guests paid as they registered, left at check out time and didn't cause any disturbances he was happy. He ran a legitimate establishment. What went on behind closed doors was none of his concern.
"Room Twenty-one," he said casually.
She stood there and looked at him. She seemed like she was waiting for some rules to follow or final instructions before she left. He looked very skeptical. The old man met people going through heavy sexual scenes in their lives all the time. He had come to believe that most people were quite crazy.
"I said, 'twenty-one!' "
Joan responded nervously. "Oh, thank you!"
She rushed out of the place and returned to her standing car. Wendy sat quietly in the front seat. The old man shrugged his shoulders and returned to his ballgame.
Joan drove her car slowly down the long row of parked cars. The place was packed! She heard laughter and activity all around the place. She felt as if she were going to a large party where she didn't know anyone except the host. It was quite frightening.
She stopped the car right in front of Room Twenty-one.
"Okay, honey. This is it! Are you sure you are ready?"
Joan looked at her daughter with regret, pain and desire.
The two women slid out of the car and walked towards the large white door with the big number "Twenty-one" on it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Joan knocked on the door. She heard a masculine voice from within. It called out for her to come in.
Wendy stood next to her at the room's entrance. The knee-length raincoat veiled her sensual garb. Joan knew she would please Stan. That was what she wanted after all. She had prepared her daughter for the "animal" within. All that mattered to Joan were her own sexual needs. Her very presence in the scene evidenced this.
She gave her daughter a weak, humble smile, swallowed deeply, and swung open the unlocked door.
In the far left corner of the small room sat Stan. He held a full glass of liquor in his right hand, and a lit cigarette in his left. He looked demonic. He was sure of what he wanted. He was going to get it, at last.
Joan nudged Wendy into the room. She looked at her mother nervously. Wendy sensed that something was very strange about the scene. She sensed her mother's nervousness, Stan's sexual thirst, and her own sense of confusion. She felt like a prize or a showpiece.
"Mother? Are you sure this is going to be okay?" Wendy felt frightened.
Joan was looking directly at Stan. He would be the one who decided whether or not everything would be "okay."
Stan did not expect any resistance from Wendy. He stood up and walked to the beautiful teen. She saw his sexual craving and cringed at her mother's side. Wendy expected her mother's arm to fold around her protectively. Instead, Joan gently pushed Wendy towards Stan.
Stan's large, hairy hand came down upon Wendy's soft shoulder. He looked directly into the teen's eyes.
"Take off your coat, and let's see what you got!"
Wendy was shaking with fright. She looked towards her mother. She noticed that she already had her coat off and was beginning to unbuckle the top of her tight jeans.
Joan spoke to her daughter. "Don't worry, honey. He's not going to hurt you. He's just going to teach some of the things you want to learn about so badly. He's a very good teacher. I know that. You just do what he says. You may not understand it all, but do it anyway. For my sake."
Wendy replied earnestly, "Yes, Mother. But are you sure that he won't hurt me?"
Joan looked at Stan and said coldly. "He won't hurt you."
Little did sweet Wendy realize what was about to happen to her.
The beautiful teen took off her raincoat. She stood there looking like an expensive French prostitute. She saw a huge bulge in Stan's pants. She wasn't sure what it came from, but she had heard that a man's thing gets very hard and big when he wants to go to bed with his wife. All of Wendy's illusions would be shattered quite soon!
"Walk around the room for Stan, Wendy. He will like that."
Joan couldn't have been more correct. Sweet Wendy looked absolutely eatable. Her ass was tight and erect and swayed teasingly beneath the bursting red panties. Her legs possessed an incredible length. They were so lean, firm and tight. Stan wanted to bury his horny head right into her twat. Her waist was painfully small and her hips rosy and full. Her breasts were proud and erect. The corset fulfilled its purpose perfectly. Stan's prick was bursting.
Wendy's make-up gave an air of seductive mystery to her whole appearance. Stan had plans to solve that mystery immediately.
He undressed. When all he had on was his tight briefs, Wendy rushed to her mother's side. All that Joan wore however were a small, snugly fitting matching set of bra and panties, herself. Wendy wondered what she had gotten herself into.
Stan grabbed she Wendy by her tiny waist. He took his free hand and clutched at her virgin pussy. She pushed his hand away and began to cry. "I don't understand any of this! I want to go home. Mother, let's leave this place!"
But Joan was no longer functioning like a loving mother. She had seen that huge bulge in Stan's pants too. She wanted his hot flesh searing her asshole as soon as possible. She walked over to her daughter and said firmly, "Now, Wendy! I want you to cooperate with Stan! He is not going to hurt you!"
Wendy was not as cooperative as she had been at first. She balked at her mother's firm words. But as she began to speak, Joan's open palm caught her right across her made-up cheek. The teen feel to the bed.
She looked up and saw her mother and Stan standing over her. Stan held a long length of cord in one hand, and a red scarf in the other.
"Tie her up. She's not going to cooperate, like you said! You were lying to me, bitch! I'll have to punish you for that!"
Wendy was going terrified. What was going to happen to her? Her mother seemed to be working with this man. She knew him as "Scotty," from the grocery store, but he seemed like a different person entirely, that night. He was acting very angry and vengeful. She didn't understand. She hadn't done anything to hurt anyone. Why was she being so poorly treated?
Stan took a long knife out of one of the cheap dresser's drawers. He cut the strong cord into four, short strands. He tied two of them to the headboard of the large, double bed, and two more to the short board that rose from the bed's opposite side.
Wendy lay on the bed in utter confusion. She looked so absolutely fucky. Her corset pulled tightly at her shaking body. Her high-heeled shoes fit her fish-net stockinged feet that they seemed to be a part of her very body. Stan wanted her body more and more. He was going to have to take it though. The girl was going to have her learn her lesson through her own experiences!
Joan began to behave like a person Joan didn't even know. Dear old Mom jumped onto the bed and straddled Wendy's bursting chest. Joan rested her knees on the upper portion of her daughter's arms. Her love for her daughter had been consumed by her torrid, relentless lust for Stan's hot, huge boner.
"What are you doing to me, Mother? What is going on here?"
Wendy's voice was full of panic. Her lesson was becoming torture.
Stan bound the young girl's wrists to the headboard. Wendy began to holler. Joan quickly stuffed tissue paper into her daughter's mouth and gagged her with a bright, red scarf she pulled from her tight panties.
Wendy began to kick with her legs. She wanted out of that scene! It really didn't help at all. In less than two minutes, the hot, little teen lay on the bed bound and gagged. She was helpless. Her eyes were full of terror. They bulged out from her head. The young virgin was to receive the experience of her life that day.
Stan looked at the virgin, and smiled menacingly. He had plans for her. From the same dresser drawer he had pulled the knife from, he lifted three thick, black pieces of rubber. Each of them had a different length. The first one was about three inches long, the second about six inches long and the third about nine inches long. Wendy didn't know what they were. But Joan sure did.
"What are they?" she asked. She answered her own question about twenty seconds later. "They're dildos! You aren't going to use them on my daughter!" Joan rushed towards Stan. He stopped her cold in her tracks with a sharp slap to the jaw. Joan fell directly to the floor. Wendy couldn't see her at all, but she heard her sobs.
Stan began to speak. "Stay on the floor, bitch! That's where you belong anyway! I have to take care of your daughter first."
Stan lifted a small, green jar of Vaseline from the same drawer, and began to work the smallest dildo into it. When it was good and full of the lubricating substance, he put the jar down next to the two larger dildos and approached Wendy.
Without hesitation he ripped the teen's red panties away from her quivering thighs. He began to fondle the soft folds of skin that comprised the teen's young, hairy bush.
"You have a nice, furry little bush, Wendy! I have something for it!"
He opened the tight, little folds of skin that lay beneath her little bush. With his thumb and index finger, he opened her virgin pussy and exposed her young vagina. It looked so delicious that he stooped down and gave her little bush a long, wet kiss.
Then in a smooth motion, he inserted the thing into the teen's tight, little twat. She writhed in silent, groaning agony as she lay tied to the bed. The strange, foreign object jammed into her young, ignorant cunt, filled her with pain and horror. The black, rubber thing was evil and painful. Her eyes bulged far from her straining flushed cheeks. The three-inch dildo was much too big for her young twat. The thing rested snugly up against the wall of her tiny hymen.
It hadn't burst through yet, but it put enough pressure upon it to make sweet, fucky Wendy suffer sharp piercing pains.
Stan stood away from the teen and suddenly pulled his huge joint from his briefs. Wendy had never seen one before and she thought it was the ugliest thing she had ever seen in her entire life.
Stan wagged the hot, throbbing prick in Wendy's beautiful face. "You see this, honey;
It's going to be in both your little cunt and your asshole before this night is done. It's really big, so I'm preparing your little hole. I'll be putting in a bigger dildo, as soon as your virgin pussy starts to loosen up a bit!"
And loosen it did. Stan made sure of it. He used Joan to do it. First he looked at the cringing bitch that was the mother of the young, beautiful girl tied to the bed. Joan tried to read his expression. It was impossible.
"Take your underwear off, bitch!" Stan screamed at dear old Mom. Joan did so, immediately. She wanted Stan badly.
"We have to have your sweet daughter see this, don't we?"
Stan looked at Wendy tied to the bed and had a sudden urge to jump on the bed and just ram the virgin bitch. But that would go against his plan.
"Get on your knees, spread out your legs, and hold that asshole, high and open!"
Joan did so. She rested her face on the floor. Wendy could not believe what she was seeing. She was also beginning to feel a strange sensation in her young pussy. The dildo was beginning to take its magical effect.
Joan began to weep on the floor. She needed to be rammed good and hard."
Stan looked down at her. "You disgusting bitch! You should see yourself! With your only daughter tied up waiting for my prick. And you! Sweet protective Momma. With your ass held high. Waiting for my prick! Your slutty whore!"
Stan kicked Joan over with a swift shove to her quivering ass. Joan rolled over onto her side. She continued to weep. Her eyes meet Wendy's. Wendy could not believe what she was seeing. She had large, salty tears streaking her thick eye-liner.
Joan dismissed her daughter and resumed her position. She held her ass high again. She was on the floor at Stan's prick. She needed a genuine fuck job!
"Okay, you disgusting scum-sucking whore! I'll give you what you need so bad. But first stand up and lean over the edge of the bed. I want your daughter to see your cringing face when I ram my thing right up your asshole!"
Joan obeyed immediately. Her hands were spread out on the bed, quite close to Wendy's bound, outstretched legs. Stan approached Joan's spread, quivering ass cheeks. "Now, watch your mother's face as I shove my prick up her ass."
Wendy's eyes were glued to her mother's face. She didn't see Stan grit his teeth as he started his boner into Joan's open shit hole.
Joan's lips puckered when she felt the monstrous thing close to her ass. She would have her relief soon! Stan gave a fierce thrust of his pelvis and his cock began to move into Joan's asshole.
"Please, Stan give me all of it now!" Joan began to gurgle and foam at the mouth. Her face was twisted in a frenzy. Wendy cried as she witnessed the sordid spectacular.
"Stan give it to me hard!" Joan's body shuddered and shook. She began to grind her ass onto her man's stiff ramming rod.
Stan grit his teeth and clutched at Joan's quivering ass.
"Here I come, bitch! You can't take all of me but I'm giving it to you anyway. Be grateful!"
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Joan screamed as Stan smacked against her open asshole with the force of a Mack truck. Joan's body crumbled onto the bed at her daughter's feet.
Joan seemed possessed by the huge thing inside her. She writhed on the bed like a pierce of meat cooking on a hot poker. She made strange moaning sounds and pulled at her hair. Her mouth opened and she drooled all over her daughter's leg. She was in tremendous pain but loved it.
"You can't take it, eh slut! Well, here's some more!"
Stan gave another fierce thrust of his lower torso and his prick moved into her rectum another full quarter of an inch.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! It's too fucking big! You're ripping up my insides! Please stop! Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Stan spoke cruelly. "Oh, you want me to stop, eh? Is that it? Well, if that's how you feel, I guess I'll stop!"
Stan started to withdraw his steaming, blood gorged joint from the ass opening if his suffering woman.
"No, please Stan! Don't leave my asshole! It hurts so much! But, please don't leave!"
The pathetic, wasted bitch clutched at the covers on the bed. She bit into them and tore at them like a crazed dog. She was possessed by a worshipping love of Stan's cock. She had to have it, yet at the same time it hurt her beyond belief. The lack of real logic within the whole scene made her misery worse. And the fact that her daughter watched threw her into deep despair. "Now, do you see how your slut Momma loves my prick! Let's give her a test anyway!"
Stan suddenly pulled his prick out of Joan's asshole. Joan turned around on the bed and grabbed for the thing like a hungry bitch.
"Stan pulled it away from her. "Now, if you want it back, bitch, take the next sized dildo and stick it in your daughter's twat!" Joan did not hesitate. She rose from the bed, grabbed the larger dildo (it was six inches long) and prepared to shove it into her daughter's twat.
Through the tears in her eyes, she rammed the thing into her daughter's young twat.
"Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!" Wendy screamed. The sound was hushed by the gag she wore around her neck but the pain was incredible just the same. Wendy felt as if she just had a burning stake shoved clear through her. She tore at her bindings and twisted in the misery of lost innocence. A small clot of blood began to drip from her broken bush. She was now a sexual being! Let her mother be held responsible!
"Very good, bitch!" Stan was well pleased. "Come back for my prick now, bitch!"
Joan returned to her open-ass position, and Stan rammed her again.
This time he wanted to come. He was getting impatient for the young bitch writhing on the bed. He wanted her broken twat now!
A very angry look came over his face. He pumped at Joan lying in front of him with a merciless fury. He felt his come juice swelling up his balls. He was about to shoot off. The thought of the fourteen-year old slut cunt before him really got him off.
"Ugh, ugh!" her screamed. He lifted Joan right off the bed and shoot off his hot scum.
It rammed and tore through her entire sweat soaked body. Her pussy was soaked from her own manual masturbation. The hot scum was too much for her. She fainted.
Stan finished his come shot and tossed the wasted, old bitch from his victorious rod. She crumbled on the floor like an old rag.
Now for sweet Wendy! First, he turned to suffering, little broad onto her stomach. Her bindings were twisted all around her now and she was practically paralyzed. He took the third, nine inch dildo and held it in front of her terrified face.
"Do you think your little cunt hole is big enough for this? How about your tiny asshole? Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
She shook in terror and pain. He pulled the six incher from her bleeding twat and started the full nine inches into her. It was too much for her. She tried to shake it free from her. When she saw that that would impossible, she tried open her legs to take the whole thing.
She knelt up on her knees as the ugly, brutal, black thing moved further and further into her.
Stan was really getting off on the whole thing.
"Okay bitch. You have a good four inches of the thing! Here comes the rest!"
With an inhuman shove of her powerful arm he shoved the whole nine inch length of the thing into her young pussy. The tears raced down her face and she was frozen in pain. She tensed her body completely and she shook as if possessed by a satanic spirit!
Her young ass quivered bound in the cinching corset.
Stan laughed furiously as he as the huge thing sticking out of her young, virgin twat.
"Ah! I can see that you are a little cramped in that get-up aren't you?"
With cruel fury, he pulled the corset from her abused body. Snaps flew and her young flesh was cut with the ferocity of his attack. He tore her fucky, slutty underwear from her body with the fury of a mad dog. When she was quite naked he began to squeeze her ass. He bit it and she jumped on the bed. The young buttocks quivered in pain. She was still bound and gagged so her struggling was in vain. He chewed on her young ass.
Suddenly with her long index finger, he began a vicious anal probe. His finger went in up to the knuckle. She couldn't believe the pain. It was incredible. Yet, she did not pass like dear old Mom.
Stan then straddled the naked teen and placed his erect, throbbing prick at the entrance of her rectum.
"Now honey for the real thing! He pulled her young ass cheeks apart and rammed her moistened ass with the fury of a torpedo striking a battle ship.
He felt his thing tear through layers and layers of flesh deep into the young girl's anus. He didn't care. He just ass fucked the helpless girl until his cock throbbed in preparation for its creamings.
Joan had just revived herself on the floor. She rose up. Stan saw her out of the corner of his eye.
"Join the party, bitch!" Stan grabbed the dazed women by the neck and thrust her under his shaking, dangling balls. She was dazed but certainly grateful. Stan ground his asshole right into her panting face. Her tongue darted into his asshole. She reamed him out as he rammed his crushing prick into the asshole of her bound daughter. It was the three way sex scene he had dreamed of at last!
When he had come Wendy was unconscious. She had no idea of what had been done to her. Sex was introduced to her in the most perverse way. She was bleeding and tortured. She dribbled hot saliva and lay in the bed in a clotting pool of her own virgin blood.
Stan rose from his brutal conquests and dressed. Neither of them interested him anymore. He had fucked them both out. They lay there. Joan was crying and fucked into a semi-delirium, and Wendy was unconscious. It was a pathetic scene.
Neither of them heard his mocking cruel laughter as he left.
The next day however, Stan Scott was surprised to see Joan and Wendy arrive at his little grocery store. It was about ten o'clock. Stan had just finished with the breakfast crowd. The store was very quiet.
He decided to play it cool. "Good morning, Mrs. Withers! How are you today? I see you have your daughter with you today! She is a lovely child! She a little too old though for me to give her a free slice of bologna though!"
Stan gasped and jumped back when the two strange sneering women moved closer to him armed with large, very sharp kitchen knives. They had hate and vengeance in their eyes.
Joan issued orders. "Wendy! Lock the front door! Pull down the curtain and turn off the lights. We will make it look like old "Scotty" closed up for a minute!"
She brandished the fierce looking blade right in terrified Stan's face. "Okay, you miserable, ass-fucking bastard! Now, do you remember what I said I'd do to you if you fucked around with my daughter! I don't care that I was the one who delivered the girl to you! You ass fucked her and had me break her cherry, so now, you must pay!
Stan copped a heavy plea! "What are you talking about? Mrs. Withers! I don't know what you are talking about!"
Joan was committed towards revenge. "Get in the back, bastard! Get in the back and stoop over that butcher block that you had me stoop over when you humiliated me!"
Stan cowered like a little boy in front of a angry, stern father.
"Okay, okay!"
He held his hands at his chest and sweat heavily. He thought that these crazed women were going to castrate him. His thoughts were not off the mark!
He moved to the back of the store. The place was locked now and the lights were out. Wendy joined her mother in the back of the store. Both women looked fierce and frenzied. Stan was terrified!
"Stoop over the butcher block! Spread your legs!"
Stan did so. He saw Wendy come around the front of him with four short lengths of cord.
She tied one to each wrist and each ankle of the hapless Stan.
She then bound the man to the legs of the large butcher block.
He was tied over the thing. He was helpless. Each of his legs were bound. His arms stretched nearly to the floor as his wrists bled from the tightness of his bounds.
He felt the knife near his waist. He figured that he would be very dead, very soon.
"Please, don't! Don't kill me! I'm sorry for what I did! Please!"
Both of the women laughed wickedly.
Joan cut the man's leather belt with a flick of the razor sharp knife. Stan cried out bitterly for his life. He was a miserable wretch!
Suddenly, Joan called out to Wendy. "Did you get it?" He listened carefully for a reply. When one did not come he grew even more frightened. But her heard something behind him. In his agony he wondered what it was.
Joan suddenly pulled down the man's pants and began to smack his naked buttocks.
"Okay, Stan! We are going to punish you!"
"Oh, please! Please spare my life!" Stan was pathetic.
Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his ass. It was sharp and piercing. It tore right into him. He felt that he was being split apart. It was the most agonizing thing he had ever felt! The pain seemed to fry his brain. He screamed in agony.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Then he passed out.
Wendy and Joan laughed wickedly. They looked into each other's eyes. They had had their revenge. They kissed passionately. On the previous night, after Stan left they discovered the joys of incestuous love. They had their own family affair now!
They walked to the front door. They laughed and held hands. They were happy. They had everything together, now. They could suck and fuck each other in the privacy of their own home!
Joan whispered to Wendy as they opened the door of the small grocery store, "Hey! Our friend forgot to give you that slice of bologna!" They both laughed hysterically.
In the back room, slumped over a butcher block, the bound unconscious Stan lay in his wretchedness. A ten pound loaf of bologna protruded from his ass.
That's the way they found him too. Joan and Wendy had worked hard to get the thing into his ass. The seemingly harmless, vegetable oil that Stan had used to lubricate sweet Joan's pussy again found alternate use.
As one of the loving pair bound Stan to the large, wooden block, the other one slapped the yellow, thick stuff all over his hindquarters. It alone enabled the girls to get the huge bologna into the man's reluctant rectum.
The police who found Stan couldn't believe their eyes. The store had not opened for two full days. Stan's ugly wife had made a call to the police on the second morning. It wasn't unusual for him to stay away from his family overnight. Especially when he had a hot little number lined up.
You see, Stan's sordid scenario with Joan and Wendy was not the first time he had pulled off an incestuous, love triangle in the little town. Of course no one knew, but, several of the "Mother-Daughter" homes in the small town were populated by hot, loving mother-daughter love teams.
Stan had done some select fucking in the town. Ironically enough, he never lost a customer who had found herself sucking off her own daughter! Young pussy could do strange things to anyone.
The two police officers who broke the lock on Stan's front door to get into the store, gasped when they saw Stan straddling the wooden torture block. In fact, they had a small argument between themselves as to who was going to pull the monstrous thing from the man's torn, bleeding asshole.
Stan was conscious during their whole debate. He didn't care who pulled the thing from his rectum. He just wanted it out.
When the thing was finally removed, Stan passed out. He spent several days in the hospital recuperating, and paid a tremendous bill.
He also paid quite a bill to the two cops. They promised to keep their mouths shut about the whole thing, for a nominal fee.
Just to spite the humbled grocer, they always had him make them bologna sandwiches when they came in for their weekly money.
