Things are not always what they seem. A defenseless woman is not always lacking in protection, though that protection may come later in the form of retribution. And the bully, the man holding power, is not always as all powerful as he seems.
This is a book about a rural sheriffs abuse of power, and more particularly, his abuse of women. It is not solely about sheriffs and army wives. It is about how corrupting power needs a corrupt individual to exercise it and how a victim must cease to be a victim when she decides to cease cooperation.
There is cooperation between the victim and the abuser--always.
But things are not always as they seem on the surface. People are strong because they are part of relationships. A physically weak woman becomes strong when she has a physically powerful man.
An intellectually weak man can gain strength from a relationship with an intellectually strong man. It is a matter of fighting on one's own terms.
And it is always worthwhile to remember that where there is brute force, there is always a greater brute force waiting. That someone is always smarter than the smartest man in the world. And that sex really demands cooperation--or retribution.
-THE PUBLISHER
CHAPTER ONE
Maggie felt the humid West Virginia air caressing her cunt through the brightly colored material of her skirt. Summer was hot in Davis County. Too hot. The heat was inflaming her sexy young body, making her horny. She just had to take a dip in the pond. Anything to cool off.
Jack had been away for too long. She was getting tired of relieving herself with her fingers day after day. It wasn't fair. She was only twenty-one--still young and passionate. No matter how important his work was, the government had no right to keep her husband away from her this way. God, it was hot.
Stopping at the pond's edge, she turned her face to the sun, letting her smooth white skin soak up its sensuous warmth. Her nose and cheeks were covered with freckles--sun kisses, Jack called them--giving her a clean, wholesome look of innocence. Maggie looked around the clearing to be sure that there was no one to disturb her privacy. Then she stripped the white tee shirt from her body.
Her breasts were firm and youthful, swaying heavily from side to side as she freed them from the confinement of her shirt. They were full and round, capped by a pair of strawberry nipples. She swept her hands over them, feeling the rosy nubbins harden almost at once. Cupping the twin mounds, she squeezed gently. Their pointed centers poked out from between her fingers. She undid the button at her waist. Her skirt slithered slowly down her legs, leaving her totally naked. Her fair skin shone in the sunlight.
She was tall and slender, with legs that could have been sculpted by the hand of some Renaissance genius. Her soft pubic bush glistened like spun copper at the puffy vee of her crotch when she dropped her skirt. Lovingly, she patted the sensitive mound.
Looking up at the sun once again, she walked from the grass into the pond's cool water. She felt it lapping at her calves, her knees, then her thighs as she moved further from the bank. Soon her cunt itself was engulfed by the refreshing moisture, the water soaking into her slot, cooling the heated muscles of her pussy.
Leaning into the water, she kicked her feet to glide across the surface toward the pond's center. Frogs scattered before her as her lithe body cut the water. With graceful strokes, she swam lazily toward the other shore.
Of course she could stand not jacking off. Jack wouldn't be gone forever. Just a few more weeks and his assignment would be over. Then he would come home and fuck her again. Floating on her back, she closed her eyes and thought about his long and powerful prick. She could imagine the glistening brown head, all sticky with desire, its blunt tip penetrating her, pushing the lips of her cunt apart to drive deep into her core.
She was so lost in delicious reverie that she didn't hear the sheriffs car until it had pulled across the bridge and stopped by the pond. She rolled over in the water and swam swiftly toward the place where her clothing lay. But by the time she crossed the pond again it was too late. Painfully conscious of the male eyes on her, she struggled into her skirt.
Her body was wet, and her tee shirt stubbornly resisted all efforts to pull it over her swollen breasts. The shirt molded itself erotically to her dripping curves. She tugged at the soaking material, to free it from the grasp of her cleavage. Finally, shrugging at the hopelessness of the task, she turned to face her visitor.
Brady Tilden, the Davis County sheriff, had been dropping around to see Maggie ever since Jack left for Africa on his assignment. There just didn't seem to be anything she could do to keep him away. She couldn't call the law, because he was the law.
Tilden ruled Davis County with an iron hand. Since he was elected sheriff, there hadn't been any major trouble. Because he always stopped it before it started. Most of the men in the county were afraid of Tilden. But with the women, it was different.
His reputation as a cunt-chaser and his brashly aggressive egotism made Tilden attractive to many of them. And he moved in and out of their beds freely. He was tall and broad-shouldered, handsome in a clean-cut, rednecked way which was designed to appeal to the rural female. His blonde, close-cropped hair and steely blue eyes gave him an all-American look which blended perfectly with his vee-shaped football physique.
There was a cold look in his eye, though, as he got out of his car and stared at Maggie's dripping body. The sun behind her X-rayed her shapely legs through the thin fabric of her summer skirt. The clinging dampness of her tee shirt covered her tits without doing much to hide them from view. He studied her openly, making no attempt to hide his lecherous interest. For a long moment, his eyes lingered on the large shadowy circles of her nipples, outlined clearly against the wet, white garment.
He licked his lips with a slow meaningful gesture of his tongue, and then he locked eyes with her. "Maggie Henderson," he said menacingly. "You in one heap of trouble."
Maggie felt instinctively afraid. She knew deep down that it had something to do with her kid brother Petey. She had taken care of him ever since their parents died. But he was at the age where he wouldn't listen to her most of the time. And there was a wild streak in him.
"I haven't done anything wrong, have I?" she asked.
"Your brother's been dickey-dunkin' with some of the local girls," Tilden answered brusquely. "I gotta do something about it before he gets one of 'em into trouble."
Maggie was chocked. "He's only twelve," she said. "He's too young to get a girl in trouble."
"Shit!" The sheriff spat. "That boy belongs in a institution. Not with you and that nigger husband of yours."
Maggie bit her tongue. She would never get used to hearing people call Jack by that ugly name. But there was no percentage in arguing with the sheriff.
"Where is the little sex fiend?" he demanded. "I'm gonna have to bust him."
The blonde woman was aghast. "No," she blurted, tears springing to her eyes. "You can't do that. Please. Can't you give him one more chance?"
The sheriff grinned obscenely. "All depends," he said. "How anxious are you to keep him out of reform school?"
"I'll do anything," she said, her lower lip trembling.
Tilden's face hardened. This was his moment-- the one he had been waiting for. One corner of his mouth turned up in a victorious leer. "Get on your knees," he commanded suddenly.
Terrified, she complied. Was he going to make her beg? Did he want her to plead with him?
But the sheriff had something else in mind. With one hand on the butt of the Colt forty-five which was holstered at his hip, he stepped toward her. Suddenly his other hand shot out to grab her long golden hair. His fingers tangled in it, twisting cruelly until her lips tightened in pain. It felt like he was going to yank it out by the roots.
"Please," she whimpered. "You're hurting me."
The sheriff laughed--a harsh guffaw which came up from his belly. "Not as much as I'm about to," he said cruelly. "If you don't do just like I tell you." Pulling viciously, he brought her lips against the front of his pants. "Now, take my cock out and suck it."
Maggie was trembling. The whipcord sheriff was capable of killing her, and she knew it. It wouldn't be the first time that he shot or beat somebody to death "in the line of duty." She wished that Jack was here to protect her. To grab the bigmouthed bastard by the back of his neck and kick him the hell out. But he wasn't. And there was no time to think things over. His hand was twisting, pulling her hair so hard that she had to struggle to keep back a scream.
With shaking fingers, she reached for the tab of his zipper. She could see the front of his trousers rising and falling with the pulsating beat of his stiffening prick. The movement was ominous--like the restless stirring of some prehistoric animal. But deep down in the furthest recesses of her mind, it intrigued her.
She couldn't help wondering what his cock would look like; how it would feel in her hand. It had been so long since Jack was home, so long since she felt the massive strength of a masculine organ. In a daze, she unzipped the front of his pants.
Like a mighty charger which had suddenly been released from captivity, his prick sprang forward. Impatiently, it stabbed at the air in front of him, bobbing up and down as it pulsed. Maggie's eyes widened at the sight of it.
His cock was huge--gigantic. It must have been at least ten inches long. And it was as big around as a beer bottle. The shaft was white, criss-crossed with pulsating blue veins which twitched as the warm air washed over it. But the head was a deep shade of beet red. It was fat and round, its swollen tip bisected by a taut pink slit. A thick bead of moisture formed at the opening, glistening in the West Virginia sunshine.
"Suck it," he growled impatiently. To punctuate his command, he yanked angrily at her hair, bringing a sob of agony from her lips.
In spite of her horror, Maggie felt her body respond to the sight of his gigantic tool. Her nipples hardened to press anxiously at the front of her moist and clinging tee shirt. Her pussy started to salivate, its lips becoming thick and slick with oily secretions.
His hand continued twisting and pulling at her wet hair. She found it impossible to think. There wasn't any choice. She had to do what he demanded.
Slowly opening her mouth, she brought it to the head of his dick. She could hear him chuckling as he watched her surrender. Bumping forward with his hips, he nudged at her lips with his rod. For an instant she resisted, and then gave in completely.
Shielding her teeth with her lips, she allowed his prick to enter the warm cavern of her mouth. Brady's fingers still clutched at her hair, but as she reluctantly closed her lips around his throbbing staff, he loosened his grip. Determined not to give him any more than she had to, she kept her lips stiff and dry. But as she moved them mechanically up and down the length of his rod, she could feel it responding. It seemed to swell even under her grudging labial caress. It was beating harder and more rhythmically.
Involuntarily, her tongue flitted across its smooth and silky underbelly. His cock had a salty taste, like Jack's. But there was something else there too. The musk of another woman's cunt. This must be his second visit today.
When her tongue rolled over his rubbery cock-head, Brady sighed. Letting go of her hair, he took her ears in his hands and worked her head slowly up and down. She glanced up to look at his face. It was beaming with ecstasy, his eyelids pressed tightly together. But his lips were still twisted in a characteristically angry snarl.
Her entire mouth was filled with the flavor of his maleness. There were thick and dewey secretions flowing from the tip of his prick. The thought of it made a knot of revulsion form in the pit of her belly. Yet something made her press her pointed tongue-tip against the slit. And something made her lap hungrily at the masculine juice.
It had been so long since her passions were satisfied that she almost found herself desiring Brady Tilden. The sounds of lust that came from his throat were exciting her. The heat which emanated from his quivering rod was spreading to her trembling body. It warmed her pussy and filled her groin with tingling waves of sexual hunger. She tried to turn herself off, but she couldn't. Her mind was filled with a vision of his glorious cock as it slithered in and out of her mouth.
Uncertainly, she reached up to cup his scrotum with her hand. It was heavy with boiling sperm and hot to the touch. Gently, she cradled the mighty stones which swayed inside it. Without being urged, she rolled and juggled them in her fingers. Once she started, she just couldn't stop She stroked the wrinkled bag and squeezed it softly in her palm.
Her cunt was on fire. She wanted to throw herself down on the soft green grass and open her thighs to him. She wanted to strip once again and bare her intimate openings to his views. She wanted to ram his prick into her snatch. But she hated him. And she hated herself for the lust which bubbled within her.
He was groaning bestially now, his cock buried almost to the hilt in her mouth. She could feel its bluntly rounded end prodding at the back of her throat. It was demanding more stimulation, threatening to choke the very life from her if it wasn't forthcoming.
With a fluttering movement of her tongue, she coated its underside with the moist warmth of her saliva. The surface of his rod felt smooth and creamy. She found herself lingering passionately over the texture and taste of it. As he rolled and lunged against her, she knew that he was aware of her burgeoning need. She had to cover it to hide it from his smugly egotistic mind.
But the muscular sheriff knew too much about women to be deceived. "Startin' to like it, ain't you?" he muttered between rasping groans of pleasure. "How's that taste?" he taunted. "You like it any better than that chocolate dick on your so'jer boy?"
He turned her face up at him so that she could see him watching her. Then he pulled back to slip the length of his cock from her mouth. It hung in the air before her, glistening wetly with a sheen of moisture. She realized that it was her saliva, and was angry with herself. But her pussy still tingled hotly and her tits were still flushed with desire.
"Lick it like a lollipop," he commanded. "While I watch."
Maggie felt her fair complexion reddening, her skin blushing with shame. She wanted to resist him, but his powerful hands left her little alternative. Aware that his eyes were burning her with their gaze, she extended her tongue and ran its tip over the rigid flesh of his organ.
The swollen penis throbbed, another drop of lubricant oozing from its slit. He guided her face to the pinnacle and held her there for a moment. She realized what he wanted her to do, and tried to fight. But resistance was hopeless. Her body had a mind of its own. Self-driven, her tongue lashed out to flick the pearly jewel from his cumhole; She rolled it in her mouth, savoring the spicy flavor. Then, with a strangled gasp, Maggie formed an "oh" with her lips and took his cock into her throat once again. She engulfed the throbbing rod with the honeyed warmth of her mouth. She let her tongue loll hotly across its surface. Closing her lips around its circumference, she sucked gently, creating a vacuum with the muscles of her constricting throat.
Her cheeks hollowed as she pulled on his rod, until she could feel the heavy meat of it stroking their insides. With both hands she stroked and caressed him. Her fingers moved from his balls to the base of his cock and then back again. Without prompting, she tangled them in the curling bush of his cockhair and rubbed delicately over the sensitive skin of his pubis.
Sheriff Tilden was panting uncontrollably, his eyes tightly closed. One of his hands loosed its grip on her ear to begin groping for her barely covered tits. She felt his fingers closing over her nipples. There was no hiding her arousal from him now.
Brady was beyond caring about reactions, however. He was using her, and all that mattered was his own pleasure and satisfaction. He rolled the swollen nub brutally in his pinching fingers. He cupped the massive globe of her tit in his ham-like hand. When her fingertips glided gingerly over the cylinder of his cock he grunted like a grizzly bear. When she cradled his scrotum in her palms, he roared like a tiger.
He was rising toward his climax. She could feel it building. His cock was pulsing powerfully, and swelling to even bigger dimensions. Her mouth was stuffed with flesh, her lips stretched tightly around its monstrous girth. Her own responses were matching his. Her cunt was on fire, and not even the river of her juices could extinguish it.
The lips of her pussy pouted rhythmically open and shut. Her clit was stiff and swollen with the need to be touched. She craved release from the building sexual tensions in her young and passionate body. But at the same time, she dreaded the explosion which she feared was on the way.
If she orgasmed while sucking him, she would be betraying her husband. For that was something that the sheriff could never force her to do. She tried to fight back the flood of mounting desire which washed through her genitals. But it was looming larger and closer in her consciousness.
The taste of his lubricant was spicier. Sharper. She knew that his climax was building; that his tangy semen would soon be on the way. She wanted to pull her face away, to finish him with her fingers so that his foul seed would spill on the ground instead of into her throat. But something prevented her from acting.
Hungrily, she sucked and lapped at his rod. Her hands twisted and turned about his cock's base, milking it desperately. Her teeth grazed caressingly over its throbbing surface. As she sucked, she jerked his penis up and down, bringing droplet after droplet of thick fluid from its tip.
He made a gurgling sound in his throat, and she knew that his manly desires had, for the moment, rendered him weak and helpless. She could have broken from him then and run away. But there was something drawing her inexplicably toward the inevitable conclusion. He was going to cum in her mouth. And something within her wanted to experience it!
Her hips were churning, working her groin around in tight little circles. Her thighs pressed tightly at the lips of her tender pussy, gently irritating her sensitive clit. Maggie was nearing a climax of her own. Not even the guilt which she felt could work to prevent it.
She sucked harder at Brady Tilden's dick, no longer an unwilling participant in the obscene charade. Tilting her head back, she looked up to see a silvery string of saliva dripping from one corner of his mouth. He was lost in a world of arousal, no longer in contact with reality. Any moment now. Any second.
Then he exploded. A thick whirling bug of semen jetted from the end of his prick to splatter the back of her throat. And then another. And another. Her mouth was filled with the heated syrup of his orgasm. It coated her tongue and saturated her tonsils. It oozed between her teeth and titillated her palate. It slid hotly down her gullet.
Her cheeks billowed with the heated brew, trying to contain every drop. But she couldn't swallow as fast as the sex fluid flowed. Some of it ran from the corners of her mouth, wetting her chin and cheeks obscenely.
Her heat was building to the boiling point. She no longer tried to fight the sexual feelings. She was looking forward to her climax now. She had already come this far--mostly against her will. She was entitled to relief. It was just around the corner. Just a stroke away.
She relaxed and prepared to let the orgasm wash over her. Her eyelids fluttered shut. Another second. Another instant...
But Brady's cock had shot its load. There was no point in hanging around. The softness which had lit his features at the moment of his climax was gone now. It had been replaced by his perpetual look of contempt and anger. Placing the tips of his fingers against her forehead, he shoved her viciously from him. She fell backwards onto the ground.
"All right, bitch," he spat. "You just bought your little brother another chance. But its his last, I'm warning you." He took off his hat to wipe the sweat from his face with the back of his arm. Then he added, "I just might drop in to see you again some time soon."
Maggie watched in silence as he strode back to his police car and wheeled out of the drive. Then, brushing herself off with her hands, she headed for the house.
CHAPTER TWO
Hours later, Maggie threw herself across her bed and sighed. The letter was written and the envelope was sealed, but she had no idea of when Jack would get it. Only the Agency knew his exact location, and all correspondence had to be routed through African headquarters. She longed to pour her heart out to him, but realized that his mail would probably be opened and read before he received it. So she only hinted at what happened, and asked him to try and come home. Nevertheless, she had expected to feel better after writing it. But she didn't.
Her hysterical anger had subsided, but she was still trembling with emotion. Brady Tilden's prick had knocked her off balance. After lifting her to the peak of passionate excitement, it had left her dangling over the abyss. She felt nervous. All wound up. She just had to do something.
Resolutely, she pulled her skirt up around her waist. Her hands moved tenderly to the burning tissues of her cunt. There was no other way. She simply needed relief.
The lips of her pussy were swollen and distended with lust. As she rubbed them with her fingertips, she moaned in passion. A thick coating of moisture already lubricated the vaginal opening, easing the friction of her masturbating hand. Her eyes were shut tight, memories of the sheriffs massive cock haunting her mind. Slowly, she inserted a finger inside her hole.
Streaks of jagged lightning shot through her at the auto-erotic touch. Her cunt was aware of her finger at the same time that her finger was aware of her cunt. It felt good. She began to fuck her pussy with her hand. Scissoring two fingers together, she spread the thickly flanged labia to allow the hot afternoon air to wash over her inner membranes. Then, carrying a dollop of cuntjuice on the tips of her digits, she wet the nut of her clitoris.
The tiny ganglion was red with sexual hunger. It tingled with erotic sensation. Each time her fingers nudged its surface, her body twitched in reaction. She rolled it from side to side, coating it completely with the dew of her secretions. Then, taking it between her thumb and forefinger, she pulled it gently up and down.
It was like a miniature penis, throbbing in response to her manipulations. She wished that she could bend forward and suck it, the way she had sucked Brady Tilden's cock. She wished she could run her tongue over its glistening head, the way Jack did whenever he was home.
Dipping in the slash of her pussy for another load of lubricant, she greased it some more. The sounds of pleasure which were spewing from her throat became louder with each tantalizing stroke. Her cunt was open wide, prepared for the intrusion of the mightiest cock on earth. Ironically, it-got nothing more than her own slender fingers.
Nudging at the love button with a knuckle, she plunged the depths of her opening. She placed the soles of her feet against the mattress, lifting her buttocks high off the surface of the bed and opening her pussy even further. Pressing her palm flat against the swollen hump of her mound, she buried her middle finger to the hilt in her fragrantly dripping slit.
It felt good--almost good enough to let her forget her frustration. But the need for a cock kept intruding on her self-stimulation, she thought of Jack's--all brown and shiny with dew. She thought of Sheriff Tilden's--thick and brutal looking as it protruded from the front of his pants.
She felt herself lifted higher on a billowing cloud of excitement. Continuing to diddle her twat with her right hand, her left began searching the night table beside her for the hand mirror which she kept there. Reaching between her splayed thighs, she positioned it to reflect the red-lipped orifice of her cunt. The sight of its convoluted membranes pressing softly against her fingers excited her still more.
She watched as her cunt kissed the palm of her hand, coating her skin with her sweet and fragrant fluid. Taking her fingers from opening, she lifted them to her nose and sniffed delicately. The aroma lifted her higher. Snaking her tongue quickly out from between her lips, she tasted it. It was rich and musty.
Quickly, she returned her hand to her slash. In and out, in and out her fingers plunged. Her hips were grinding in tight circles, her ass rubbing against the sheet each time she swung down against it. She watched the mirror as her hand fucked her pussy. She gazed at the swollen redness of her clit. Her tension was increasing. The muscles of her thighs drew taut, trembling with fatigue. Her body was in motion, her pelvis rising to meet the thrusts of her plundering digit. The crisis was approaching. It was beginning to happen.
Like the crashing of a tidal wave, it was upon her at last. Her head spun crazily as the rollicking bolts of ecstasy slapped and lashed at her. Her belly fluttered, her buttocks clenched and unclenched. Rumblings of thunder filled the air around her, drowning her uninhibited screams of delight.
Torrents of rich vaginal fluid drenched her masturbating hand, making her fingers slick and smooth. She brought her thighs together, wrapping them tight around her fist in a mindless effort to keep it from withdrawing. But her palm was fastened tightly to the free-flowing fountain of her sex. Like a creature with a will all its own, it reveled in the glory of her completion. In its way, it too experienced a kind of orgasm.
She panted and she moaned, not caring who might hear her cries. A finger-fuck might not be much, but it was all that she had. And her body was making the most of it. Like a sky-diver in free fall, she coasted weightlessly while her mind whirled in the throes of self-induced orgasm. The mirror, forgotten, dropped from her hand to strike her thigh and fall to the mattress beside her. Her eyes were shut tight, excluding everything but the glow in her cunt. For a while, she thought it would go on forever.
It didn't. When she had finished pouring the juices of frustration from her womanly well, she lay back in breathless silence. She felt better now. She would be able to face another day. But what would she do tomorrow?
* * *
Downstairs in the living room, Petey was whispering softly in Amy Bradshaw's ear. "I know I'm just a kid," he said. "But I think I'm falling in love with you."
Amy was fourteen, just two years older than Petey. It was obvious that his smooth words were having an effect on her. They had been hugging and kissing for about half an hour, and Petey was ready to move on to bigger and better things. But first he had to soften Amy up a little more. These country chicks were a cinch for smooth-talking Petey Edwards. If Amy succumbed, she would be the sixth one that he fucked in the three months he had been staying with his sister.
Petey grew up in a poor section of Charleston, where it took a fast pair of fists or an even faster mouth to stay alive. He was young and compact, but he was tough. So tough that when his parents died in an auto accident, he had never even shed a tear. He was sure he could continue to survive on his own.
He never really wanted to move in with his sister who lived in the country. He hadn't even seen her since she ran off to marry her nigger soldier boy four years ago. And the thought of rural life didn't appeal to him at all. But there wasn't anyone else, and the court wouldn't allow him to live by himself. So it was either Maggie's place or a state-operated orphan asylum.
In the past three months, though, his feelings had changed. Jack turned out to be a pretty nice guy. He was away most of the time, anyway--stationed overseas somewhere. And country living had quite a bit going for it. Especially the girls. They were all so sweet and innocent, too honest to doubt anything that was said to them.
Petey played them like game fish, enjoying the struggle almost as much as the catch. Usually, he pretended to be immature, letting the one he was after treat him like her own baby brother. Then, when the girl's resistance was at its lowest, he made his move. Completely unprepared for his advances, she usually found herself seduced before she even realized what was happening.
So far, every one of the girls had been cherry before he got to them. That gave him the biggest kick of all. All of the girls he knew back in the city started fucking as soon as they were old enough to know a bird from a bee. Out here, it seemed, things moved more slowly.
He was sure that Amy Bradshaw was a virgin too. He could tell by the hoarseness in her lungs when he kissed-her on the lips. He could tell by the way her nipples hardened the instant his fingers brushed across the front of her shirt. She was a juicy exotic fruit, just ripe for picking.
He kissed her again, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck and pulling her close to him. He felt her breathing quicken. Her body was supple and compliant. Her lips were soft and yielding. Gently, he eased her back onto the cushions of the sofa in Maggie's living room. Her long black hair spread about her like a dark and shimmering halo. Her soft green eyes glittered as she looked into his.
"I've never done anything like this before," he whispered. Then, before she could answer, he pressed his lips to hers. Her response was uncertain at first. But she gradually surrendered to the warmth of his kiss. Slowly, her lips parted for the entry of his tongue. As he explored the inside of her mouth with it, she began to moan softly. She fenced with his tongue for a moment, engaging its tip with the point of her own. Then she allowed it to plunge to the opening of her throat.
Petey continued kissing her while his fingers strayed casually across the swelling front of her shirt. For a girl of fourteen she had a nice pair of tits. He could feel them straining at the tight bra which encased them beneath the material of her top. He wanted to rip the garments from her and bury his face in the softness of her bosom, but he held back.
With simulated uncertainty, he cupped one of her softly feminine boobs. It was firm and resilient, returning the gentle pressure of his hand with adolescent exuberance. He heard her gasp in surprise, and knew that he had reached a crucial point in the chase. If she was going to resist him at all, it would be now. With passion, he chewed on her lower lip. Her breathing quickened. He could feel her heart pounding against the wall of her chest. Moaning, she pressed her lips fully against his. This was it. She was his for the taking.
While his tongue traced the lines of her teeth and gums, his fingers slid between the buttons of her shirt. Gingerly, he ran their tips over the cloth-covered contours of her youthful tits. Her body was undulating on the couch, her heat making itself apparent. When he was sure that he had warmed her up enough, he proceeded to the next step.
With a touch too light to jar her conscience, he began to undo the buttons of her shirt. It only took him a moment. Then, when all of the buttons were unfastened, he drew the garment open to reveal the softness of her skin and the crisp whiteness of her bra. His lips still nibbling at hers, he ran his hands lightly over the mounds of her titties, feeling them stir inside the cups.
She groaned, her head turning from side to side as their lips locked together. For a moment, he thought that she might be getting ready to break from his grasp. But her voice became louder as his fingers encircled the fullness of her breasts.
"Oh, Amy," he sighed. "I shouldn't be doing this."
The girl covered his hands with her own, pressing his fingertips into the firm mounds of her bosom. "Hold me," she entreated. "Don't be frightened." Her tone was gentle and maternal. She was hooked.
"I can't help it," he sobbed. "I've never done this before." His lips trailed hotly across her throat and shoulders as he murmured the sweet deceptions.
Her hands went to his head, her fingers tangling in his hair. Tenderly, she guided his face to the cleavage of her teenaged bosom. Moving excitedly, she rubbed her tits against him, stroking his cheeks and his chin with the powdery smoothness of her skin. His fingers were already working their way under her back, searching for the clasp of her bra.
Before she knew what was happening, he had it open, freeing her breasts from its restricting confinement. With his nose, he nuzzled the undergarment away from her, uncovering her titties completely. Opening his eyes wide, he stared hungrily at them.
Her tits were beautifully contoured--long and shapely, with nipples that stood out like dark little plums. Their centers were hard and elongated, rigidly inviting his lips to suck on them. But he didn't rush into it. He puffed his warm breath across their goosepimply surfaces, smiling inwardly as the ripe nipples puckered to even stiffer erection. Then, with the broad flat blade of his tongue, he began to lick and caress them.
Amy was moaning and panting uncontrollably, her tits rising and falling with the struggling of her lungs. He buried his face deeply between them, inhaling the perfume of her femininity. Then, without further prelude, he caught one of the rubbery rosebuds in his teeth and nipped lightly at it. As he flicked the sensitive tissues with his tongue-tip, he heard her sob in excitement. He knew that she was ready for the next move.
"You're beautiful," he whispered with practiced shyness. "You're so much a woman. And I'm only a kid. How can I expect you to like me?"
"No," Amy whispered, her voice strident with desire. "I like you a lot. And I don't think you're a kid. Why you're almost a man." She pulled his lips against her again. But he wanted more.
Taking her hand, he guided it to his crotch. He rubbed her palm against the rise of his hard-on, letting her feel it through his pants. He could tell that it was making her even hotter.
"Oooooo yeeesss," she hissed. "You are a man."
He was mouthing her nipples vigorously now, moving his head quickly from one tit to the other. His hands cupped and squeezed her titties as he licked and sucked their pebbled centers. He left her hand unattended at the burgeoning crotch of his pants. The next move would be hers.
She was nervous and unsure of herself. But his words had placed her in charge. She had to do something to prove that she was worthy of his respect. Moving her hands slowly, she held his cock through the material of his pants. Petey moaned in unfeigned delight. His success was assured.
His hips revolved in spiraling circles, bringing her fingers into contact with his entire groin. When they encountered the fly of his trousers, he stopped moving. His hands worked at her boobs until she was quivering with excitement. She really had no choice.
Driven by the instinct which serves to keep humanity alive, she began to fumble with his zipper. Her fingers were clumsy, but determined. She tugged and she pulled until, at last, the tab began to come down. In an instant, his pants fell open at the front. His cock was just a hair's breadth away.
He could feel his youthful erection straining at the tight material of his white jockey shorts. Then her hands were all over it. It happened every time. Her budding sexuality was getting the best of her, just like it had with all the country girls he fooled around with. Now that she had begun, she wouldn't be able to stop. Not until the last irreversible step had been taken.
No longer needing it as a tool of seduction, Petey cast his pretended innocence aside and devoted himself completely to getting her hotter. His fingers squeezed at her titties, his lips traced the contours of her naked chest. A little at a time, he worked his way lower to the waistband of her jeans. Swiftly, expertly, he undid the snap. Then, with skillful hands, he stripped the denim pants down over her hips.
Her panties were pink and ruffled, surprisingly feminine under her boy-cut farm clothes. The sight of them made Petey's prick throb with excitement. He felt her fingers closing around it, milking and jerking the youthful organ through his underpants. She was so busy with his cock, that she hardly noticed when he began peeling the panties from her loins.
Hurriedly, he drew the elastic waistband downward, exposing a thin band of curling black cunthair as he lowered it. The growth was thick and wiry, and he was tempted to stop right there to play with the strands for a while. But he wanted her pussy. Rolling the diaphanous pink cloth over her buttocks, he bared her hair-lined slash. Now she was naked.
Placing his hands on her pelvis, he framed the glorious slit, stopping to look at it hungrily. It was all puffy and red, the thick lips coated with a glistening sheen of adolescent desire. His nostrils flared at the pungent aroma of it. Without wasting another moment, he began stroking the opening with his fingers.
She dropped her grasp on his cock and threw herself back against the cushions. Sobs of delight were bubbling from her throat. Her body was wiggling like a pinned snake. He could feel an ocean of fluid flowing out from inside her hole to wet the tips of his brazenly cunt-stroking fingers. Suddenly, he dipped one finger into her.
Amy cried out with pleasure and surprise. The sound drove him on. Burying the entire length of his middle finger in the warmth of her slash, he began stroking it slowly in and out. Each driving motion brought another gasp of joy from her lips. A little river of saliva trickled from the corner of her mouth.
Her hands found their way into his shorts and began searching for his prick. It wasn't hard to find. Standing up straight and tall, the young male organ greeted her faltering fingertips with a rhythmic pulsing throb. His juices were already beginning to flow.
He let her play with him for a few minutes longer while his fingers delved deep into her virginal opening. Her tissues were moist and slick with cuntal fluids. She was tight. Real tight! He roamed up and down the length of her drooling slit, stopping occasionally to twirl the nub of her clitoris. Each time he did so, she wailed in delight.
Her thighs were falling open, silently inviting the entry of his cock. There was no reason to wait any longer. Standing up beside the couch, the boy stripped the white shorts from his body. Licking his lips as he looked at her, he stroked his penis slowly up and down. Then, savoring the hypnotized expression of lust which played over her features, he crawled between her knees on the cushions.
Her eyes were shut. Her lower lip was clamped between her teeth. The sounds coming from her throat told him that her body was ready. But he knew that she wasn't really expecting him to fuck her. Heavy petting was as far as her virginal imagination could take her. She was in for a surprise.
When he crept up toward her pussy, she pulled back her thighs to give access to the finger which she was expecting. Petey clutched his cock in his hand, aiming it for the sensitive crack between her cuntlips. Then, throwing himself forward, he embedded the tool in her softness. He didn't stop plowing forward until he encountered the barrier of her hymen.
The teenaged girl opened her eyes in alarm. "No!" she cried in desperation. "Don't! Stop!" But it was too late. Grunting with effort, the precocious pre-teener drove forward, smashing her maidenhood with the blunted point of his ram.
"Oh, God," she screamed, pain flooding her green eyes with bitter tears.
Petey paid no heed to her suffering. He was getting what he wanted and that was all that counted. With a relentlessly drumming rhythm, he pounded his dick into her. His drive wrenched sob after gasping sob from her throat. Her mouth contorted with shame. Her face was wrinkled in horror.
Within seconds, though, his pelvic thrusts began getting to her. No longer in command of her own reflexes, she wrapped her legs around his hips. She fused her pelvis to his in an instinctive attempt to drive him yet deeper. Her sobs of agony turned to mewls of pleasure and desire. He knew that she was rising toward a woman's total fulfillment.
Dropping his head, he took one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked it as he ground his pelvis against her mound. That was all it took. With a mindless howl of bliss, her first orgasm began. His followed immediately. His balls ground together as he pumped his youthful seed into the snug receptacle of her snatch. Everything melted in the heat of the moment. Their paroxysms coincided as maiden and seducer became one for an infinite second in time.
When it was over, the girl wept quietly. "I'm not a virgin anymore," she whispered. "I've given you everything."
Petey kissed her. But his mind was somewhere else. He thought he heard something up in one of the bedrooms. It sounded like somebody groaning. It must have been Maggie.
CHAPTER THREE
There was a light summer rain falling, its drops beating a rhythmic tattoo on the panes of Maggie's kitchen window. She sat for a moment, staring out as she sipped her coffee. The air was moist and muggy. Her entire body was drenched in perspiration. She wished that she could strip off all her clothes and run out into the rain. But she had something important to take care of. And it couldn't be put off any longer.
She had been trying to have a talk with Petey ever since Sheriff Tilden's "visit" three days ago. But her brother was hardly around lately. And when he was, she just couldn't find the words that had to be said. After all, he was her brother. And nine years her junior. How could she talk to him about sex? If only Jack were here.
If she didn't do something soon, though, he was liable to end up in jail. And then it would be the orphan's home for sure. She couldn't allow that to happen. She just had to work up her nerve. Steeling herself, she got up from the table and put her empty cup in the sink. Now was as good a time as any. He had slept long enough.
Turning, she headed for the stairs. Perhaps it would be easier if she said what had to be said while he was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Maybe it wouldn't be so embarrassing that way.
She was half-way to his room when she heard a car pull up in front of the house. A moment later, there was a loud and angry knocking. Almost grateful for the interruption, she ran to see who it was. When she threw the door open, she was startled to see Brady Tilden standing outside it. This time he had brought Luke and Sammy McLean, his two deputies.
"All right," Tilden said, sneering. His eyes were hidden behind wire-rimmed mirror sunglasses. "Where is he?" Shoving Maggie aside, he stepped into her living room. His deputies followed.
"Where is who?" Maggie asked timidly, closing the door and turning to face him.
"You know who," Tilden spat. "That dickey-dunkin' little brother of yours. We come to bring him in. And maybe you with him."
"Me?" Maggie echoed. "On what charge?" She was outraged. But frightened.
"Corruptin' the morals of a minor," the sheriff answered. "We've had reports that the little pervert's been dickey-dunkin' with the Bradshaw girl. Figure you're responsible since you're the one with care and custody. All right, boys. Better search this place for drugs and po'nography."
"Pornography? Drugs?" Maggie repeated, her voice a hushed whisper. "You won't find any of that here."
"We'll just see about that," Tilden answered. "I wouldn't be surprised if you use the stuff yourself. Let's have a look at them arms."
Maggie tried to back away, but Luke and Sammy stepped forward and grabbed her by the wrists. Tearing the cuffs of her ruffled yellow blouse, she pulled up the sleeves to expose her forearms. The sheriff scrutinized them without removing his sunglasses.
"Arms look clean, chief," Sammy McLean said after a moment. "Should we let her go?" Maggie was numb.
"Hell no," Tilden responded. "Some dope addicts shoot it in their legs, just so no one'll see the marks. Let's have a look."
"Now wait a minute," the young woman began. But the deputies ignored her protest. Sammy, the taller of the McLean brothers, moved around in back of her, twisting her arm behind her. Luke tore at the snap of her jeans. She tried to kick out at him, but he only laughed, showing two rows of crooked yellow teeth. Within seconds, he had opened the denim pants and drawn them down to her ankles. She struggled to keep her balance.
Her black panties were brief and lacy. She could feel Tilden's gaze burning through them to the pouting slash of her cunt. She wanted to turn away, but she was shackled by her own jeans. Sammy McLean twisted a little harder, until the pain made her go limp. She leaned against him for support. The deputy loosened his grip gradually until he was sure that she had quit struggling. Then he let go and stepped away from her. She didn't move. Standing there with her pants around her ankles, she stared down at the carpeted floor. She felt utterly degraded, but was helpless to do anything about it.
The burly sheriff lifted one corner of his upper lip to suck noisily at a tooth. Then he ran his eyes lecherously over her shapely legs. Slowly, he walked around her, appraising her like some slab of meat on a hook. "Nope," he muttered. "She don't shoot it in the legs either." For an instant, a look of disappointment flashed across his features. But it faded at once to be replaced by an expression of inspiration. "Strip her," he commanded. "We'll have to check everything out."
Maggie gasped. How could they do this to her? She looked mutely at Sammy and Luke McLean, imploring them with her eyes. But their raw and bony faces were impassive. Their chief had given them an order. There was nothing for them to do but obey it. Obedience was as close as either of them got to intelligence.
Without a word, Luke dropped to his knees and pulled her rumpled jeans off over her feet. She didn't offer any resistance as the deputy grabbed at the front of her blouse with both hands. With one powerful movement, he tore it open. She heard her buttons fall to the floor. Her lips were drawn tightly together as he worked the tattered garment off over her shoulders.
When she was clad in nothing more than her bra and panties, Luke looked dutifully up at his chief. A muscle in Sheriff Tilden's temple was twitching erratically. "Go on," Brady said impatiently. "Get the rest of it."
Maggie threw her hands up instinctively to shield her bosom, but Luke McLean swept them quickly aside. Her bra was a match for the panties--black, lacy, and even more brief. The soft white globes of her titties were almost totally exposed by its plunging front. Only the nipples were hidden.
Luke fumbled clumsily with the garment, his hands brushing roughly over her breasts. He couldn't seem to find the catch. Finally, he hooked a finger in the thin strip of elastic between its cups and pulled. Maggie felt the back-strap straining against her skin, cutting painfully into her shoulder blades. For a moment, she experienced a desire to reach back and unsnap it so that the brute wouldn't have to rip it. But she resolved to do nothing to help the bastards in their humiliation of her, even if she could do nothing to prevent it.
With a loud tearing sound, the pretty bra pulled away from her, exposing her tits. They sprang free, the rosy caps inscribing a pair of circles in the air before her. She heard Tilden draw his breath in through his teeth, and was unable to avoid looking up into his face. Something inside her thrilled to his masculine response. She was too much a woman to be unmoved by his obvious arousal.
When Luke slipped his thumbs into the waistband of her briefs, Maggie made no objection whatsoever. Her pussy was beginning to salivate. And although her moral mind rebelled at her own body's reaction, it felt good. She could feel her tits swelling with perversely submissive excitement. Her nipples were hard, like a pair of glistening rubies on a bed of satiny white.
She moved her feet together as the deputy stripped her panties off over her ankles, and then spread them slightly apart. "Well," she said softly. "Do you see any needle marks on me? Anywhere?"
"Don't know," Brady replied, taking off his white stetson to wipe his forehead with the back of his arm. "I'll have to take a closer look." Stepping towards her, he reached out and touched one of her nipples with his finger. "Kinda like this, dontcha?" he asked impudently. Maggie didn't answer. "Well, dontcha?"
The naked woman felt her nipple throbbing with desire, and hated herself for the uncontrollably erotic reaction. It wasn't enough for them to torment her with their brutality. Now they were torturing her with her own potent sexuality. It just wasn't fair. A tear formed in the corner of her eye.
Her tits were flushing a deep shade of rosy pink, and there was simply nothing she could do to hide it. She was aroused. The sighs couldn't be disguised. She wanted to turn away and bury her face in her hands, but her pride made her look into his eyes. She fought to control the trembling of her lower lip and chin.
"I despise you, Brady Tilden," she sobbed defiantly. "Any when my husband gets home, he'll get you for this." She could no longer hold back the flood of emotion. She openly wept.
"Here's one for you," Tilden snapped, slapping her viciously across the face with his ham-like hand. "And here's one for your nigger so'jer boy-husband." He hit her again. Then, turning to his silent, staring sidekicks, he said, "hold her down on the floor. I've gotta check her more thoroughly."
Sammy was the first to reach for her, but when he touched her wrist, she stepped quickly away from his and lashed out at his face. Her nails left three bloody trails across his cheek. Angered, the deputy punched her hard in the center of her naked belly. With a grunting rush of air, she sank to the floor.
For a minute, she thought she would lose consciousness. She felt the softness of the carpet enveloping her, its thick pile irritating her nude buttocks and thighs. Everything started to go black. But then she was aware of hands on her, pulling her arms and legs out and pinning her to the floor. She opened her eyes to see Luke McLean stroking her breasts with his fingertips. And idiotic grin played over his features.
Brady Tilden's voice boomed. "Out of the way, boys," he commanded. "She's mine. All you get to do is watch."
Luke looked disappointed, but he obediently moved off to the side. He gripped her left wrist and ankle in his hands while, opposite him, Sammy did the same with her right. She was pinned helplessly to the rug. Naked, she looked up at the sneering sheriff. From where she lay spread-eagled, he looked huge and menacing. She realized that she was completely at his mercy, and she loathed him for it. But something within her longed for him to be on with it. Her cunt was hot, its outer lips covered with a thick coating of fluid. Her tits were bobbing with excitement.
Brady pulled down his zipper and his cock came thrusting out of the front of his pants. It looked even bigger than it had the other day. She remembered the spicy flavor of it, the heft of its massive bulk on her tongue. And she knew that it wouldn't be her mouth which felt its presence today.
"Open her up a little further," Tilden commanded. "That little slit doesn't hardly look big enough for the enforcer here." He gave his penis a playful shake, casting a flying drop of shimmering lubricant on her naked bosom. She felt it spatter on her ballooning tit, burning her like acid where it touched her yearning skin.
Luke and Sammy pulled back on her ankles, spreading her legs so far that her cunt hurt. She moaned softly, and closed her eyes. But there was no escaping the reality of the brutal situation. When she opened them again, Sheriff Tilden was on the floor, kneeing his way towards her divine feminine opening.
She willed the lips of her cunt to close and bar him entry. But they refused to respond to her conscious command. Instead, they puffed and blossomed like the petals of a rose, drawing back to reveal the beefy redness of her warm wet interior. She bit her lip in frustration, angry at the weakness of her sex.
Tilden's prick was closer to her now, hovering hungrily at the moist-lipped opening to her womb. Reaching forward, he put his hand on the hair-covered mound of her pubis, rubbing in a slow and lazy circle. His touch was amazingly gentle. She couldn't help but respond to it.
Her clit began to harden, its glistening red head poking out at him from between damp and fleshy folds. For a moment, he toyed with it, his fingertips rolling it like a solitary pea in a bowl of melted butter. She heard a sigh of sexual desire, and realized to her horror that it was coming from her own constricting throat.
The two deputies laughed. "Didn't take you long to get her going, Chief," Sammy said. Maggie wished for a hole to fall into and pull around her.
"Never does," Tilden answered. "Specially not with a hot-blooded bitch like this one. Why I'll bet when that nigger husband of hers is around, she gets it ten, twelve times a day. She must be burnin' for a dose of my cock." Thrusting his thumb into her cunt, he said, "ain't that right, Maggie honey?"
She closed her eyes and turned away. But the flow of her juices told the story. He spread the syrupy substance over the fat vaginal lips, depositing a pearl of it on the head of her vibrating clit. Each time he stroked her, she shuddered involuntarily.
"Nice and wet," he said as his fingers penetrated her again. "Why if this pussy could talk, it would say, 'Brady Tilden, please give me some cock.' " He shifted into falsetto as he mocked her. Then he burst into raucous and derisive laughter. His deputies joined in the fun, giggling and cackling wildly.
Maggie's mind was reeling with hatred and disgust. But her body's needs overpowered her conscience. She wished he was dead, yet at the same time she wanted him. She needed to feel the power and bulk of his fuckrod tearing into her cunny. She longed for the excitement of a full man-and-woman orgasm. When she felt the tip of his penis prizing at the pouting gash of her pussy, she sighed involuntarily. Luke and Sammy laughed again.
The sheriff moved his hips slowly from side to side, screwing his cock into her puffed and swollen opening. She felt a fraction of its tip sliding into her and braced herself for a tearing plundering drive. He moved slowly, however. And with patience. A millimeter at a time, his masculine organ worked its way onward. After each jabbing plunge, he stopped to wait for the elastic tissues of her snatch to adapt to his bulk. Then, as her cuntal membranes stretched to fit snugly around him, he drove forward again.
She couldn't stop gurgling and sighing submissively. And she was no longer straining at the hands which held her down. If Luke and Sammy had let go of her ankles, she would have locked them around Brady Tilden's waist. She was too hungry to turn down a cock meal.
She felt the rounded knob of his prickhead lodging tightly in the outer chamber of her vulva. Her labia closed tenderly around it, imprisoning the masculine organ in the heat of her honeyed sex. Rolling his hips, Tilden pivoted his cock on the prominence of her pubic bone. The thick and throbbing head rotated inside her snatch. Maggie groaned.
Brady's face hovered above hers now. His hands were on either side of her head, supporting the weight of his body. His deputies still held her down, pulling her limbs into the shape of an "X". But they were applying less force. It was apparent that she was going nowhere.
She felt the hairy bush of Tilden's pubic mound scouring at the soft whiteness of her groin. She could smell the sweat of his body as he penetrated her. Their genitals were fusing slowly, his erect manhood sinking deep into her receptive femininity. She was wrapped around him, a third of his cock buried in her pussy.
"I loathe you, you bastard," she gasped. But her body craved more of his prick. Her cunt was crawling with desire. Its pulsating walls massaged him brazenly. Her clit throbbed and trembled, hot blood pounding through its vessels. Even as she spoke, her buttocks were lifting up off the carpet to grind her clitoral mound against him. Her words of hate were punctuated by staccato gasps of excitement.
Up close, she could see his eyes through the mirror glasses. They were clear and blue, and seemed to be focused on something in the hazy infinite distance. As he plummeted deeper into her joybox, they lidded with lecherous longing. "Yeah," he grunted. "I really like that."
At least half of his prick was inside her now, its thickness forcing the lips of her cunt even further apart. A low uncontrollable whine issued from her throat. Her lustful emotions were on display, exposed to the three men who made sport of her. Trying to choke back her sobs, she chewed at her lip.
Tilden's patience was running out. He flung himself forward headlong, dropping all of his weight upon Maggie. His weapon sank to the hilt in the swampy gash of her pussy. She couldn't hold back the moan of delight which his plundering penetration wrenched from her lungs. But he was too lost in pleasure to pay it any attention.
Rhythmically, he rocked forward and back, sawing his prick deep into her. She could feel its throbbing thickness spread her inner cuntal walls. She clenched her teeth tightly in an effort to keep from crying out with sensuous desire. But the sounds which bubbled within her found expression anyway. As Brady drove into her, she began rising to meet his thrusts.
The hands which restrained her were little more than tokens now, symbols of her captivity. Her body was a willing participant in its own treacherous rape. His cock pulsed and beat inside of her. Her pussy returned each of its excited contractions. Her breasts pressed flat against her chest as her body melted with his.
His 'lips churned as he worked the swollen fucktool in and out of her cunt. She could feel his heavy balls swinging forward on the instroke. The hair-covered sac which encased them slapped lightly at her upturned buttocks as her back arched to permit even deeper entry. She was a prisoner of her own desires now. All the will to resist had been fucked out of her.
Her nostrils flared and her breath came in short gasping pants. She rolled her hips in a circle, bringing the plundering head of his cock into contact with every nook and cranny of her twat. She felt it nudging at her cervix, sending a rollicking electric shock through her body. Oozing rivulets of vaginal juice trickled from the corners of her gash, wetting her inner thighs and the carpet beneath her ass.
She felt her anus contracting as his prick rammed her pussy again and again. The climax which was building was going to be a big one. It was the first time in months since anything but her own finger had been inside her cunt. The flood which had been building was about to be unleashed.
His cock swelled thicker and fatter, to pull the membranes of her cunt even tighter around it. Inarticulate groans spilled from his lips. His eyes were glassy and unseeing. She knew that he, too, was approaching an orgasmic pinnacle.
Cooing softly, she twisted one of her hands free of the fingers which loosely encircled it. Then, reaching between her body and that of the sweating sheriff, she searched for the dangling sac of his balls. It was wrinkled and heavy, and covered with a thick buttery moisture--the combination of his genital perspiration and her cuntal flow.
With passionate fingers, she stroked the masculine bag. The testicles inside it were like two bloated pouches of sauce. She squeezed them gently, rolling them about in her fingertips. Brady Tilden groaned in bestial satisfaction.
Then she realized that she had made the wrong move. Her touch was hastening his climax. He was going to cum any second. And he was going to cum without her. Desperately, she threw her body up at him. She had to catch up. She had to climb faster. It was her only chance. And she had earned it.
But it was too late!
With a victorious bellow of relief, the sheriffs cock exploded inside her. Jetting bursts of gism flew from its tip to mingle with her own freely flowing lubricants. The heat of it scalded her belly. His semen was thick and congealed. Each whirling plug struck her like another knee in the groin. He was using her as a receptacle. A spittoon for his prick. Her orgasm was as far away as the north star.
Her body growing suddenly cold, Maggie lay limp while he pumped his obscene load into her twat. When he was done, he rose slowly and refastened his pants. She could feel a river of male cum dripping from the gash between her legs. She had never hated him more.
Bending to pick up his stetson from the floor where it had fallen, Brady quickly straightened his clothing. Then, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his shirt, he whistled through his teeth. "That so'jer boy of hers is one lucky nigger," he said. With a gesture of his head, he ordered his deputies away from her and to their feet. They complied at once. He stopped to suck at a tooth and then looked down into Maggie's tear-streaked face. "Me and my deputies'll swear that all I did was examine you for needle marks," he said casually. "And since I didn't find any, I'm lettin' you go this time. But if I get one more complaint about your little pervert brother, I'm running the both of you in." He stopped to let his words sink in, and added, "is that clear?" Maggie Henderson just stared at him her green eyes blurred by tears of bitterness and hatred. "You just better leave me alone, Brady Tilden," she muttered in despair. "I'm going to write my husband about this."
"You do that," Tilden said laughing derisively. Then, without another word, he turned and headed for the door. Luke McLean got there just in time to open it for him. When the sheriff stepped outside, his two deputies followed.
Maggie lay on the floor for a long time after they had gone. She felt dirty and despoiled. Her body was tense, all her nerves drawn taut. She felt as though she had climbed a mountain, only to be stopped a few steps short of its summit.
Her cunt was sore from the pounding which Tilden's cock had given it. There were juices dripping from inside her, and lingering heat which kept her pussy tingling uncomfortably. She had to wash--to bathe the foul residue of his orgasm from her groin, and to cool the steaming passion of her body. With effort, she dragged herself to her feet.
For a moment, she thought about picking up her scattered clothing. Then she shrugged and headed for the stairs. It would still be there when she finished her shower. As she plodded slowly up the steps, her mind whirled with rage and disappointment.
CHAPTER FOUR
Petey's cock was stiff and erect. He moved his hand lovingly over its surface, making it throb to his masturbating touch. A dewy drop of moisture was forming at its tip. Shit, she was a good looking piece of ass. He had never even noticed it before. He must have been blind.
When he woke up earlier, he had heard an angry masculine voice coming from downstairs. At first he thought that Maggie's husband might have come home. But as he listened more closely, he realized that it wasn't Jack's voice. He strained his ears in an effort to identify it, but he just couldn't place it. Yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he got out of bed to investigate.
He thought he heard the phrase "dope addict", and instinctively stepped lightly as he approached the top of the stairs. He heard his sister say something, but she was speaking too softly for him to make out her words. Dropping to his knees, he peered around the corner of a banister for a look at what was going on. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.
There were three men in uniform talking to Maggie. He recognized them as the sheriff and his gooney deputies. He had been warned to stay away from that bunch by some of the kids. And he had always done his best to do so.
But they seemed to have some beef with Maggie. The two goons were holding her while the sheriff spoke to her angrily. They were tearing her clothes and pulling her to the floor. He wanted to do something to help her, but was frozen to the spot by his fear. Before he could react in any way, she was naked. The deputies were holding her down and the sheriff was standing before her.
His eyes widened as he stared at his sister's nude body. He had never realized how big and well-rounded her titties were. And those hips. They were dynamite. He hardly noticed the cops anymore. Now his eyes were riveted to her cunt. It was so hairy. Not like the girls he had been messing around with. Hell no! Maggie was a woman.
Her body was turned so that her feet were pointing at him. When the deputies began pulling her ankles apart, her cunt winked erotically up at him. It looked all red and shiny--like she was enjoying what they were doing. When one of the deputies started playing with her nipples, she didn't even try to stop him. Petey wondered what the hell was going on.
The sheriff opened the front of his pants, and the youngster thought that they might be getting ready to rape her. But the expression on her face, and the sounds she was making left him unsure. She didn't seem to be objecting. Not any more than some of the girls Petey had fucked. As the lawman fell to his knees between her thighs, she sighed passionately. No, it didn't look like she needed any help.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Petey settled down to watch. His prick was already beginning to harden. As he shifted uncomfortably about, it protruded from the front of his pajamas, throbbing with youthful sexual exuberance. Unconsciously, he began stroking it lightly.
When the sheriff moved over Maggie, Petey gasped. But nobody heard him. As the burly cop's prick slid slowly into his sister's pussy, the boy pulled more firmly on his own swollen dick. He could see Tilden's heavy sac of nuts swinging forward to slap at Maggie's body. Automatically, he reached into the front of his pajamas to pet his own wrinkled scrotum.
His crotch was tingling all over, and his nuts ached dully. His sac felt like it was going to burst. Grasping the collar of flesh which ringed his prick he began to pull it up and down. His balls hurt even more.
Sheriff Tilden had rammed his cock in all the way now, and Petey could see his sister's body straining to merge with his. The sight of her writhing and moaning as the big cop fucked her was almost more than the pre-teener could bear. His body felt like it was on fire. His head was spinning drunkenly. His cock was so stiff that he thought it might shatter. He heard himself moaning involuntarily.
Suddenly the kid's blood ran cold. God, what if they heard him. That fuckin' cop was liable to do anything. According to what he heard, Tilden would think nothing of cracking his head with a billy-club. He had to get out of there before they spotted him.
Moving as silently as he could, he rushed down the hall to the bathroom. Closing the door, quietly, he sat on the cover of the toilet seat and tried to catch his breath. But his lungs just couldn't get enough oxygen.
The recollection of his sister's naked body haunted him. She was beautiful. The sexiest woman he had ever seen. Her tits were like melons. And her cunt was so juicy that it looked good enough to eat. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the vision of her lying naked on the floor while the sheriffs bloated cock penetrated her. He tried to imagine how it felt for the cop to have Maggie's sweet, sweet pussy wrapped around him. He closed his fingers tenderly around his prick and tried to duplicate the warmth which Tilden must have felt.
Stopping for a moment, he held his fingers to his mouth and covered them with saliva. Slowly, he began rubbing it into his adolescent prick. It felt good. He imagined himself entering her pussy with it. Quickly, he slipped out of his pajama pants.
His eyelids pressed tightly together as his head filled with lustful fantasy. His hand moved up and down with a rhythmic, steadily increasing tempo. His other hand cupped his scrotum, to heighten the auto-erotic pleasure. At that moment, he wouldn't trade ten Amy Bradshaws for his masturbating hands and the thoughts of his sexy naked sister.
* * *
Maggie was walking in a daze. She had just been brutally raped, yet there was nothing she could do about it. There was no one she could call on to help her, and no place she could turn for redress, Tilden was the law. And that made him immune from retribution.
What bothered her most, though, was her own state of mind. She hadn't felt like screaming for help anyway. She felt aroused. Excited. As much as she hated Tilden for degrading and humiliating her the way he had, she had to admit that he turned her on. His cock fired a spark in her pussy, and the spark fanned to flame. But he failed to extinguish the blaze.
She knew that her finger couldn't satisfy her this time. She had been too close. Too close to pouring the fluids of her orgasm onto a man's bucking penis. Too close to having her pussy explode in cock-stuffed delight. Oh, if only Jack was home. He would know how to please her. He would know what to do for the ache in her pussy.
All she had to take his place was an icy cold shower. And deep down, Maggie knew that wouldn't help much either. Lost in thought, she reached for the knob of the bathroom door and pushed it open. Absently, her hand went for the light switch. But it was already on.
"Petey," she said. "What are you doing?" But the answer was very plain. For when she looked up, there he was--naked--with his rigid young cock in his hand. Maggie stopped in her tracks. For the moment she forgot that she too was naked.
Her little brother's cock was much smaller than Jack's or Brady Tilden's. But it was a masculine organ. There was no doubt about that. And it was hard and erect as any man's. Speechless, she stared at it. Her lips were becoming very dry. The sight of his penis was going to her head.
Petey just sat and looked at her, his hand frozen to the shaft of his prick. She could see his eyes sliding down over her nudity. They caressed the softness of her tits and lingered at the moist slash of her pussy. Then they returned to her face.
The way he was looking at her made her all hot and tingly inside. She didn't understand it, but she was too aroused to ignore it. Inhaling deeply, she filled her lungs with air to make her tits stand up high on her chest. She watched as his cock twitched in his hand. "Have you been jerking off?" she asked softly. Her voice was husky with desire.
Petey nodded. "I saw you and the sheriff fucking," he answered. "It got me all turned on."
Maggie ran her hands seductively over her nakedness. "What did you like most?" she asked. Her fingertips were playing unconsciously with a strand of her shining copper pubic hair.
"Looking at you," he answered simply. "You're beautiful with all your clothes off." His hand was moving up and down on his pecker again. His tongue flicked out repeatedly to moisten his parched and cracking lips.
The effect that her body was having on him was obvious. He was even more excited than Brady had been. It was a thrill to be so desired. Her cunt throbbed with sensuous longing. "Touch me," she murmured. It sounded like a prayer. Stepping forward, she nudged his forehead with the point of her tit.
Petey's mouth dropped open. He was obviously shaken. Obviously unsure of how to respond. He reached up timidly to place his fingertips on her taut white belly. But that wasn't what Maggie had in mind.
"Not there, silly," she whispered. "Here." Taking his hand, she guided it to the swollen curve of her breast. His fingers were trembling. "It's all right," she said softly. "I'm your sister. You don't have to be ashamed."
Petey's hand closed over the softness of her tit. His movements were clumsy, and she wondered if it was the first time he had ever touched a girl there. Then she remembered what the sheriff had come to talk to her about in the first place... "Have you ever made love to a woman before?" she asked quietly. "Tell me the truth."
"No," Petey said with conviction. "Lots of girls, but never a woman."
"Well, I want you to make love to me now," Maggie uttered softly. "I need it."
Petey let go of his prick to take both of her breasts in his hands. She felt her rosebud nipples hardening against his soft and youthful palms. It was good to have a boy's hands on her. It made her feel even more a woman.
"Suck my nipples," she instructed, placing her hands on the back of his head. She urged him upward with gentle pressure on his scalp until his lips were gliding on their own over the softness of her boobs. He didn't need much coaxing.
The centers of her aureolar discs stood out regally, inviting the caress of his lips and tongue. His awkwardness seemed to be passing rather quickly. He lapped circles around the erect little nubbins of pink, making her nipples even harder and more sensitive. She heard herself groaning as all the excitement she had felt at Brady Tilden's brutal penetration began to return.
When Petey's mouth closed over one ripe and luscious nip, she sighed with desire. "Oooohh, yessss," she hissed. "Lick me right there." Her fingers were tangling in his hair. Her hips were rotating as she ground her pelvis forward.
The boy continued sucking at his sister's titties while his fingers explored her body. She felt him caressing the curves of her powder white tits, and expelled a long sibilant breath through her teeth. Then he moved on to more erogenous areas.
One of his fingertips was moving slowly up and down the length of her vaginal slit, smearing her hotly flowing juices in its wake. She felt her cuntlips opening out to him. His finger entered carefully. Fluids began to pour hotly through the caverns of her inner cunt. She panted and wheezed uncontrollably.
Hungrily, she reached for his cock. It was small, and difficult to find. But when she did succeed in capturing it with her anxious fingers, she found it hard and pulsing. There was only a sparse sprinkling of hair at its base, and what there was of it was soft and downy. Playfully, she tugged at a strand. Then she returned to his boyish instrument.
It was fascinating, this hairless little organ. A promise of manly power throbbed youthfully through it. She stroked it up and down, stopping at its base to caress his balls. Then she whirled her fingers over its satiny head. A steady stream of goo was oozing from the slit at its tip. She spread it over the skin of the shimmering shaft.
Petey's finger was plunging in the crack of her pussy, driving as deep as it could go into her murky roiling depths. She hurled her pelvis forward at him, burying his probing digit still deeper. Her swollen clitoris nudged at his knuckle. He began toying with it.
Withdrawing from the heated slash of her pussy, he concentrated all his attention on the throbbing little love button. She felt him rolling it between his fingers, and jerking it slowly up and down. Within moments, uncontrolled gasps of pleasure were issuing from her lips. For a child, he knew quite a lot.
He teased and titillated the tiny pleasure bud with a practiced hand. She felt her temperature rising. Now two fingers impaled her, driving deep into her pussy, scissoring apart and together as they went. She uttered a low bestial whine. "Fuck me," she mumbled mindlessly. "Fuck me with your fingers."
Her brother's rhythm accelerated at her whispered command. His cock jerked spasmodically in her hand. She caressed it lovingly, cradling it like a bird in the softness of her palm and letting her fingertips run lovingly over its surface. She wondered how it would be to get screwed by so small and undeveloped a fuck-tool. Then thought faded under a blanket of passionate sensation.
Petey brought both hands to her pussy. The fingers of one framed the delicious work of art while the others delved its warm and humid depths. Now he skewered her with his fingers and toyed with her clitoris at the same time. The combination of stimuli robbed her completely of her reason.
His lips were back at her nipple--nibbling, kissing, biting, and caressing them. His tongue rolled freely over the sensitive skin of her breasts. She bit her lip in an effort to keep from crying out. But all she managed to do was smother the sound, making it throaty and deep. His fresh and adolescent was bowling her over.
Her hand tightened around his prick, milking it as she pulled it up and down. It had ground longer since she first touched it, but still it was the penis of a young boy. Yet, the feel of it excited her. Each time it throbbed, something in her pussy responded. For each pearly drop of fluid formed at its tip, her cunt gushed a river. Suddenly she wanted to feel it inside her.
"Petey," she croaked hoarsely, "I want you to fuck me. Please, please fuck me."
At her words, his cock started throbbing again, and nearly doubled in size. For a moment, she thought it might end right then and there with the little prick spouting like a fountain of youth all over her hand. Desperately, she pinched its neck between her thumb and forefinger in an effort to stanch the torrent. It worked.
All of Petey's muscles had tensed as his body fought against the orgasm which had built inside of him. She could feel him trembling against her. His fingertips were motionless inside her pussy. His hands were quivering electrically. Gradually, he calmed. When he had himself together again, Maggie sank to her knees in the plush softness of the oval bathroom rug.
Petey hovered over her, his cock like a handle in her grasp. At the insistence of her touch, he too dropped to the floor. Lying beside her, he rubbed his naked body against hers. Maggie hummed erotically in the back of her throat. Tugging at his prick, she pulled him on top of her.
Her ballooning breasts squashed against his chest as he lowered his weight onto her. Her nipples drilled hotly into his skin. She lifted her ass from the floor to rub her pubes against his crotch. Her mound was steamy and wet. The curling hair which upholstered it plastered damply to her sensitive cuntflesh.
She rubbed his smooth crotch skin with her hairy powder puff, buffing until he whined softly. She encircled him with her arms, pulling his chest tight against her tits. She bumped and ground, struggling to work his little hardon into the slot of her vaginal opening. He was shorter than she, and her lips brushed against his forehead as he moved. He was so much younger. She felt like his mother instead of his sister. It was so deliciously wicked.
She could feel the head of his prick jabbing against her now. It was small, but very well defined. It kept bumping the lips of her pussy, but couldn't seem to find its way in. Reaching between their bodies, she took it in her hand.
Petey sighed when his sister touched his cock again. His eyes were shut, his face contorted with emotion. As she manipulated his penis with her fingers, she watched him grimace with agonized delight. She played a moment longer before inserting the youthful prick between the puffy flanges of her twat.
At first the little cockhead stayed where she put it, bathing luxuriously in the moisture of her vulvic ante-chamber. Then, as though an electric prod had been shoved up his ass, Petey rammed it forward. She felt it tunneling into her, aiming for the knob of her cervix. But it stopped far short of the mark. His pubic bone was tight against her, and she knew that he was in all the way. She was beginning to wonder whether he was big enough to satisfy her. Just then he started to move.
His hips undulated in six different directions as he threw his body forward and against her. His cock didn't go very far into her hole, but his pubic mound rubbed directly against her clit. He rocked forward and back, caressing the sensitive organ with his hairless hump. He backed off until his cock nearly plopped from her opening, and then he drove heavily downward again.
Maggie grunted. Her clit vibrated like a violin string as his body pulled away from her. She arched her back in an effort to glue herself to him. But his groin remained just out of reach. Only his cock connected them for a brief instant. Its head was grasped tenuously in the suckling lips of her cunt. Then he fell upon her once more, smashing into her clitoral knob and grinding his hips for emphasis. "Oh yes, fuck my clit," she sobbed. "Fuck me, little brother. Fuck me good." Her eyes were glazed with a patina of lust. Mindlessly, she gazed up into his pubescent face. Her lips were soft and pliant, as she begged him for fulfillment.
This time when he came down on her, he kissed her, his tongue snaking out to jab and stab at hers. She threw her legs up and wrapped them around his hips, clasping his crotch against hers. She had him now and she wouldn't let him go.
Their bodies rotated in opposite directions, her clit bumping and thumping against the softness of his pre-teen skin. He spiraled first in one direction and then in the other, inscribing a circle inside her with the head of his cock. She felt her cunt juicing furiously, the juices flowing out to wet her sopping pubic bush and to lubricate the contact between them.
He rubbed himself against her while he fucked her, massaging her tits with his chest as he bumped her clit. A layer of sweat was all that separated them. He lacked experience, but he made up for it in enthusiasm and creativity. She felt herself being buoyed up to a new level of excitement.
She could feel the diminutive shaft of his penis against the lining of her cunt. The rubbery little head rammed out her vaginal wrinkles. But the stimulation of her clit overpowered all that. The tiny ganglion protruded completely from its sheltering sheath with nothing to protect it from total sensation. Each tingling contact lifted her even higher.
Mindless syllables of desire ripped from her throat as her naked body fused with that of her brother. Her hands moved over his back, her nails raking at his skin. She reached down to cup his wiry buttocks, pinching and squeezing them in exuberant fingers. Her ankles locked in the small of his back as she lifted herself tightly against him.
She felt an orgasm beginning deep inside of her, and her first desire was to let it rip. But she forced herself to hold it back. She wanted to feel him explode. She wanted to have him cum in her. It would be the most exciting experience she had ever had. And she could tell that it wouldn't be long.
A trickle of saliva was drooling from a corner of her little brother's mouth as his cock fucked into her cunt. He was panting noisily, like a stud bull in rut. "Maggie," he shouted suddenly. "This is it. Going to cuuuuummmmm."
He sounded frightened and unsure. "It's all right, baby," she cooed. "Let it flow."
With that his cock exploded. The first spurt was a little one, hardly wetting her insides as it flew. But the second was more powerful. And the third more powerful yet. His prick was pumping and pounding with a rhythm that seemed to go on forever. Each new spasm brought another gush of adolescent semen. Her cunt was filled with heated syrup.
He didn't show any signs of letting up. The torrent just kept on coming. She felt thick rivers of it oozing out to stain the bathmat, while an ocean of sperm rushed into her belly. Her mind was spinning, eyes crossing and uncrossing. There was no holding it back any longer. With a shriek of satisfaction, she let her own climax begin.
The universe expanded to an infinite void of multi-colored comets and flashes. Uncontrollably, she hurtled through space. Wave upon wave of orgasmic fulfillment passed over her, galvanizing her body to spastically jerking action. She coughed and she sobbed, tears of passionate pleasure flowing freely from her eyes.
His cock continued spurting inside of her while her cunt anointed it with sweet-flowing oil. Everything else ceased to exist. The mutual orgasm was endless. It was overwhelming.
Even after her paroxysms had ceased, his cock poured its cargo of semen into her womb. And after the river stopped, the organ stayed hard and fully erect. When they finished fucking, they just lay there, their bodies joined by his stiff prick in her pussy. She could tell be the way it felt inside her that it wouldn't be long before both of them were ready for another bout with ecstasy.
CHAPTER FIVE
While her husband watched in silence, Millie Tilden shook her shoulders to make her naked tits swing from side to side. They were huge and gracefully rounded, making her short and otherwise petite body look erotically top-heavy. There had been a time when Brady liked nothing better than to play with them, sometimes for hours on end. But lately, he was getting harder and harder to arouse.
Tonight she had stripped for him, hoping that a combination of sexy music on the record-player and her teasing movements would stiffen his prick. But now that she was fully undressed, it was still only half-erect. She resolved to do whatever was necessary to get it up. It had been such a long time since he fucked her.
Shaking her hips in rhythm to the latin drumbeat that ran through the music which was playing, she ran her hands lightly over her nudity. Her nipples were rigid, sticking out in front of her like a pair of loaded cannons. She rubbed the flats of her palms over them, moving her hands in tight little circles. Then she took the taut tip between her thumbs and index fingers to twirl them back and forth. She thought she saw his limp rod stirring.
She paused to look down at herself, allowing the sight of her own naked body to arouse her still further. Then she looked over at Brady. He, too, was naked, sprawled casually across their king-sized bed. His gunbelt and holster hung on the bedpost beside him. Suggestively, she stared at his cock. Her tongue licked slowly at her lips.
Cupping one of her own massive boobs, she lifted it up toward her face. It was so big that it almost touched her chin. She smiled erotically, giving her husband a sexy wink. Then, bowing her head, she began licking at the swollen nipple.
The rubbery disc was so dark that it looked almost brown. As her tongue glided over it, she could see it becoming even darker. She hoped that her performance was affecting Brady's prick, because she was certainly exciting herself. She looked up to see him watching her, and glanced down once again at his groin. She couldn't be sure, but his cock seemed to have grown a little.
Pursing her lips, she drew the rigid nipple into her mouth. She sucked it noisily, deliberately filling the air with obscene slurping sounds. Then, turning slightly, she did the same to her other breast. As she sucked their sensitive centers, her fingertips wandered freely over the silken surfaces. They felt firm, in spite of her thirty-eight years. She wished that Brady would hold them.
The music had stopped, but Millie went on moving without it. Her hips churned rhythmically, swinging forward and back. Her groin waved at Brady's eyes, her cunt opening and closing as she ground her pelvis before him. It was a puffy red gash, completely covered by a thick and curling growth of shining black hair. Little droplets of vaginal fluid dotted the kinky bush, a monument to her own mounting excitement.
But her husband didn't seem at all inclined to move. He was lying on his back, his head turned to face her. And he was making almost no response to her efforts to stimulate him. She did notice that one of his hands had strayed to his crotch and that it was lightly stroking his cock up and down. But the movement seemed idle, almost unconscious. He still hadn't reached the level of excitement that she was seeking.
She wasn't ready to give up though. There were still a few tricks left in her bag. After all, she hadn't lived with the same man for twelve years without learning something about him. Leaning back, she arched her pelvis forward. Her cunt reached out for him, beckoning hotly. She placed her hands on her hips and rotated her pussy slowly. Tensing the muscles of her abdomen, she made her cuntlips open and close, blowing heated kisses of desire in his direction. His breathing seemed to deepen.
While he watched in fascination, she began rubbing her pussy with her hands. She knew that this would do it. It always turned him on. Her cuntlips blossomed open, revealing the wetness of her inner vulva. Her clit began to swell.
Slowly she inserted one of her fingers in the opening. She heard her husband gasp softly. Looking at him through half-closed eyes, she slid the probing digit deep inside. When her cunt swallowed two knuckles, she moved her hand in a circle. She could feel her palm brushing heavily over the mound of her clitoris. She could feel her fingers pressing tight against the hairy hump of her pubis.
She groaned softly--partially for his pleasure, and partially because of her own. Then she started finger-fucking herself in earnest. Her hand flashed as her probing middle finger drove in and out of her pussy. Her clit quivered with desire. She was good at this. She had been doing quite a lot of it lately, even when he wasn't watching.
She could see his cock hardening at last. Its thick head was swollen and red. Its shaft pulsed powerfully. His hands still held it, but his movements were no longer lazy or casual. He was jerking off with a rhythm which matched that of her cunt-spearing digit. He was almost ready for her.
Removing her finger from her slit, she placed its tip on the marble of her clit. She petted and stroked the tiny pleasure center while Brady watched and pulled on his prick. Then she returned her finger to the opening. In and out she sawed. In and out. Until a glistening sheen of cuntjuice coated her hand. With an obscene auto-erotic gesture, she rubbed the thick fluid over her tits. When she bent to lick it off one of her nipples, her husband groaned aloud.
She continued titillating herself as she moved closer to the bed. Then, while she probed her pussy with one hand, she took his cock between the fingers of her other. Slowly, she stroked it up and down, spreading his oozing lubricant over its throbbing surface. Then she changed hands, inserting his cockjuice in her pussy with one while she rubbed cunt honey over his prick with the other. They sighed in melodic unison.
Brady's eyes were closed, his head turning slowly from side to side. Leaning over him, she licked at his chest. Cupping her tits in her hands, she brought her own rosy discs against his. She felt his nipples hardening against her. With an erotic swaying motion, she trailed the center of her boobies over his entire upper body.
Her tits caressed his armpits and his well-muscled shoulders. Her nipples left tingling trails of desire across his throat. She pressed one of them into his navel, rolling the flesh of her boob over his belly. Very lightly, she drew them both over his cock and his balls.
Brady's hips were churning, working his body up and down on the bed. She liked to see him like this. She was determined to make it last. Spreading his knees with her hands, she crept onto the bed between them. Leaning forward, she dangled her tits over his writhing form.
Slowly, she brushed her nipples over his skin. She began at his shoulders, tracing a wavy line to the place where a bushy growth of hair covered his groin. Then, continuing to move downward, she drew erotic parallels on either side of his prick. The rigid organ spasmed, rising up to lodge itself thickly between the heavy globes of her breasts. For a moment, she kept it there, bathing his tool in the heat of her bosom.
Lowering her body, she pressed her tits against his crotch, smothering his cock in the shadowy valley between them. She heard him sigh with pleasure and felt her cunt becoming slick with the juices of desire. The more excited he became, the hotter it made her. Tonight was going to be special. The fun was just beginning.
She allowed her tits to roll softly over the bag of his scrotum. Her nipples teased his swollen balls. Her tits pressed against them like a pair of downy pillows. She felt a trickle of fluid running from his prick to wet the skin of her chest. Moving the upper part of her torso, she rubbed it back into the silky flesh of his cockhead.
Capturing his bag of nuts between her soft and fleshy tits, she flicked the tip of her tongue over his swollen rod. He gasped again. Opening her mouth, she took the massive tool inside. It tasted spicy, the flavor making her belly flutter with sexual hunger. She ran her tongue over its surface while she sucked lightly at its head.
She had straddled one of his muscular thighs and was rubbing her cunt against him as she sucked. Each sigh of pleasure which emanated from his throat turned her on a little more. Each throb of his penis in her mouth made her cunt twitch a little harder.
Moving her head up and down, she massaged the skin of his prick with her lips. At the same time, she sucked and licked at its head. Her actions were taking their toll on him. She could tell. His cock had grown even longer, and was pulsating with an arhythmic irregularity. She moved from side to side, rubbing her boobs against his groin as his penis slid in and out of her mouth.
Her cunt was awash with the torrential river of her juices. Her tits tingled wildly with mushrooming excitement. The rigidity of his prick against her lips made her shudder all over. She sucked harder, laving her tongue faster and more anxiously against the muscles of his fuckrod. She rolled her hips passionately stroking his leg with the inner membranes of her superheated cunt.
An animalistic growl was coming from her throat. The thickness of his organ muffled it, but nothing could drown it out. She was a female in heat. Her body craved satisfaction; her cunt demanded fulfillment. She felt his cock tensing as it prepared to spit its heated brew. She knew that her pussy would match its contractions.
The friction was building. The pleasure was becoming unbearable. She lost sight of the line which separates agony from ecstasy and was hanging by her fingertips to the sweet pain of joy. Her twat was crawling over him. Her clit rubbed its head against his sizzling skin.
She began to moan, a series of sexual sounds to furnish background music for her lust. "Mmmmn-nn," she intoned. "Aaaannnggg. Oooouuuhhh." Then it started.
She tasted the burnt almond flavor of his semen as it flooded her mouth and throat. She felt the throbbing spasms of cock pumping hot against her tongue. Her pussy went off like a rocket--bursts of swirling flame filling her consciousness. She was cumming. He was cumming. They were cumming together.
It felt so wonderful. It felt so fine. She was coasting through zero-gravity space on a magic carpet of orgasm. She was soaring through the air on a sex wind which came from the pleasure center of the earth. She heard gurgling sounds spilling from her husband's throat as his bubbling load of gism spewed from his dick. For a moment, they were one. Frantically they fucked until all the tension had left them.
His cock was flaccid and her cunt had almost stopped throbbing when the telephone rang. She wished that he would ignore it, but knew--even before he jumped to his feet pulling his cock from her lips--that he would not. "Fuck!" she muttered angrily as he grabbed for the receiver.
"Sheriff Tilden," he said. He sounded businesslike and efficient. For a moment he listened impassively to the caller's voice. Then his eyes lit up with glee. "Oh, they did, huh?" he said. "Well, good. It looks like we got him now." He paused and added, "No, don't do anything til I get there. I want to handle this one myself."
Hanging up the phone, he turned to his wife. "That was Luke McLean," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm going to have to go." Offering no other explanation, he began to dress. When he buckled on his gunbelt, he said, "Better not wait for me. This may take all night."
Millie sighed. Well, at least he had climaxed before the telephone call. She had heard what people said about him chasing cunt all over the county. And deep down she knew that it was true. Tonight, though, she would have nothing to worry about. After an orgasm like that, there couldn't be anything left for philandering.
' Inside Brady Tilden's pants, however, his cock was already beginning to stiffen.
Petey moaned as Margo Wilson kissed him hotly on the lips. His hands wanted to roam over her sweet adolescent body. But he was doing his best to remain passive; to let her take the lead. So far, it was working out pretty nicely.
The twelve-year-old had learned much from his sister the day before. First on the bathroom floor, and then on Maggie's large and comfortable double bed. The most important lesson had been that there is a world of difference between diddling a young girl and fucking a real full-grown woman. Maggie made him realize that, in spite of his precocious sexuality, there was a whole lot that he didn't know. A whole lot that only a woman could teach him.
Margo wasn't quite a woman yet. She was only seventeen. But her body was fully developed. And from what he had heard about her, it was likely that she had as much experience as lots of women. Besides, she was accessible. Very accessible.
Margo had a reputation for promiscuity--a reputation which was well-deserved. It didn't take much to get her started, and once that was done, it took a great deal to make her stop. Some of the local boys called her "quick thighs", even to her face. She never seemed to mind it. In fact, some thought that she was proud of the lewd nickname.
Petey had seen her around, but never really spoke to her before tonight. So when he called to ask her for a date, he wasn't at all sure that she'd see him. But it was easy. Almost too easy.
"Oooooh, Petey Edwards," she had squealed over the phone. "I know who you are. Amy Bradshaw told me all about you. You're the one she gave it to. And you're only twelve. How exciting. What time should I pick you up?"
When she came for him in her car, he left everything up to her. It wasn't a mistake. Margo drove straight to Hyacinth Canyon, Davis County's own lover's lane. Within moments after stopping the engine, she had thrown her arms around him and snaked her tongue down his throat.
"Ooooohh, you kiss good," she said, coming up for air. "Are you sure you're only twelve." Petey just nodded dumbly. "How'd you like to kiss my tits?" she invited. He grinned.
Swiftly, she undid the buttons at the front of her blouse. Then she pulled the loose-fitting garment open. She wasn't wearing a bra and her titties popped right out at him. They weren't nearly as big as Maggie's, but they were nice. Real nice. Her nipples were plump and round, like a pair of purple plums stuck on after her breasts had been molded. Her boobs themselves were firm and cone-shaped.
He reached for them with anxious fingers and began to caress their snowy softness. She cooed softly in his ear. Taking one of the plums in his fingers, he twisted it gently. Her moans became louder. Then, leaning over her, he popped one in his mouth. Margo giggled.
"That's nice," she said. "But I wanted you to kiss them. Now be a good boy and do as I tell you."
Petey's cock twitched. So she wanted to be teacher. Well, that was all right. He could learn to be teacher's pet. Letting her nipple drop from his mouth, he pursed his lips and planted a wet noisy kiss at the center of her conical breast. He heard her sigh without inhibition.
He began kissing little circles around the purple blossoms, his lips leaving a damp trail in their wake. The sounds of passion which she was making brought his prick to total erection. He felt it pressing painfully against the front of his pants. But he kept on kissing her, moving from one luscious boob to the other and then burying his face in the valley between.
"Now, you can suck them," she whispered after a moment.
Quickly he complied. He filled his mouth with the exotic softness of her erect and swollen nipple. Her perfume was heady. As he rolled his tongue over the distended surface, the aroma of perspiration mingled with its sweetness. She was already hot.
He felt her hands moving toward his groin, stroking and petting his rigid prick through the thick material of his pants. The suddenness of her approach made him gasp in excited surprise.
"Oooooohh, you like that," she exclaimed. "You're already hard." She played with the throbbing organ for a minute and then said, "I want to see it. Open your pants and take it out."
Petey had never encountered this kind of willingness. It took him by surprise. His hands froze in mid-air, his mouth locked on the fleshy spigot of her tit. He felt suddenly inept. His prick was burgeoning with excitement.
"I guess I'll just have to do it myself," Margo said impatiently. Her dark eyes flashed in the moonlight. With slender and experienced fingers, she began to work on his fly. In an instant it was open, his youthful cock exposed to the night. "Oooooooohhh," was all she said when she saw it.
Petey tried to kiss her again, but she pushed him away. "I want to look," she said. Her tone was almost reverent. "Your dickey is so cute. Small, but shaped just like a grown-up man's. Can I hold it?"
Not waiting for an answer, she reached for the hardon. Her fingers closed slowly around its shaft. She held it tenderly, as though she was afraid that it would break. Then she began to stroke it slowly up and down. Petey leaned back against the car seat and closed his eyes.
He could feel the excitement in her fingertips as she ran them over his cock's pulsating surface. He could hear the arousal in her voice. Groans of passion were already coming from her throat. The mere touch of male flesh was all it took to get her going. He felt her lips on his forehead, and remained perfectly motionless while she kissed him.
She pecked lightly at first, caressing his face with her lips an a maternal kind of way. But as her hand jerked his cock with accelerating tempo, her mouth grew hotter and more demanding. She kissed his mouth with torrid lust searing his lips with the heat of her tongue. She chewed hungrily at his lower lip, making him whimper with pain.
His cock was as stiff as a bar of tempered iron. His balls churned at a furious pace. The suddenness of her approach was heightening his excitement. He began to fear that he would go off in her hand. He tried twisting away from her, but she was persistent. Her fingers remained wrapped around his cockshaft. Her wrists continued working them up and down.
He was about to beg for mercy, when she said, "Oooooohhhh, I know, let's ball." Without warning, she let go of his cock completely and sat straight up, Petey watched in surprise as she lifted her ass off the seat and drew her long skirt up over her hips.
Her pussy was covered by the briefest wisp of material he had ever seen. It was purple satin, and so narrow that he could see the top of her slit above its elastic band. He licked his lips lustfully as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband and peeled it off. Now her cunt was completely uncovered in all its hairy glory.
His prick twitched excitedly as she slipped out from behind the wheel and turned around to straddle him. She sat on his lap, facing him with her back against the dashboard. Unsure of what she had in mind, he busied himself with a nipple, sucking it wetly into his mouth. He could feel her hand moving in his lap, positioning his stiff little cock the way she wanted it.
Slowly, she lowered her ass, burying his erect length in her pussy. It felt all wet and sticky inside there. She had probably cum a few times already. He moaned softly as it slid into her, raising his ass to meet her downward thrust. He felt her labia closing around him, snuggling his prick in its warmth. Her juices were flowing freely, wetting his entire genital plane. Encircling her in his arms, he began pumping up at her.
"Ooooohh," she squealed. "Ooooohh, Oooooohhh, Ooooooooohhhhh." Her tongue hung out of her mouth to lick and lave at his ears. Her teeth gnawed at the skin of his neck. Her naked tits thrust out at him, jabbing insistently at the front of his throat.
He was caught up in her bestial excitement. It was so open. So unashamed. The demands of her body were of topmost importance. Everything else took a back seat. Rolling his hips, he fucked her with everything he had. The seventeen year old nymph panted and gurgled. Her thighs pressed tightly together to imprison his cock in the softness of her cunny. She held his face in her hands, turning it up for her kisses. She sobbed with unbridled lust.
He could tell that her climax was approaching. His own was coming too. With a muffled squeal, she announced it, "Ooooohh, I'm cumming. I'm cumming."
He started to shoot at once. His cock swelled up and spit, filling her pussy with the syrup of his pre-adolescent loins. His balls ground together like boulders in an earthquake. Once it began nothing could stop it. Not even the beam of light which suddenly came through the window to shine in his eyes. Not even the pounding on the locked door of the car.
His prick kept popping its load in her belly, unable to do anything else. But his mind returned quickly to reality. He was in trouble. Big trouble.
Suddenly Margo opened her eyes and looked around. When she saw what was happening, she screamed and dove for her panties. Petey threw open the door and bound from the car, running swiftly into the night.
CHAPTER SIX
Margo whimpered as she looked around at the interior of the detention cell in which she sat. She had never been inside the jailhouse before, and she didn't- like it at all. It was damp and it was dirty. Worst of all, it was lonesome.
Bars on the windows and door reminded her that she was a prisoner, and she whimpered again. She had been sitting on the hard wooden cot for almost an hour, wondering what Sheriff Tilden planned to do with her. And she was really getting frightened.
If her momma found out that she was in jail, or what she had been doing to get there, she would be terribly upset. Momma had been sick ever since Daddy died, and a shock like this could even kill her.
She was about to go to the door and beg the sheriff to let her go when she heard footsteps in the hall. Maybe they decided that she had been punished enough. Maybe they were coming to let her out. She looked up hopefully as Deputy Luke McLean opened the barred door with a key on a huge metal ring.
"Luke," she began sweetly, hoping to charm him. But the deputy ignored her seductive voice and snapped a handcuff on her wrist. It hurt, and she bit her lip.
"Sheriff Tilden wants to talk to you," he said gruffly. "Come with me." Although they had known each other for years, he acted as though she was a perfect stranger. He yanked on the dangling cuff, bringing a muffled sob of pain from her lips. Then he led her toward an office in the back of the dimly lit building.
When they entered the room, Sheriff Tilden was seated behind a big wooden desk with a paternally angry expression on his face. Margo tried to prepare herself for the lecture which she knew would be coming.
"Margo Wilson," the burly lawman boomed. "What am I going to do with you?" The teenager remained silent, and stared shame-faced at the floor.
The sheriff continued his verbal chastisement.
"Dickeydunkin'" he exclaimed. "And with that little sex fiend of all people. Why if your daddy was alive today, he'd just roll over in his grave. And you momma. She'll like to die when I tell her about it."
Margo looked up at him in horror. "You don't have to tell her, do you Sheriff Tilden?" she implored. Tears were glistening in her pretty eyes. Her full red lips were trembling.
"Course I got to tell her," he said. "You got to be punished, don't you? Why if Judge Brannon wasn't away for the weekend, he'd probably give you sixty days. Wouldn't be no way to hide that from your momma, would there?"
Margo sobbed. "Couldn't you just punish me yourself?" she pleaded softly. "You know, yell at me or something? I swear I'll never do it again. I swear it." She was desperate now, and half-hysterical.
Tilden laughed without mirth. "If I was to punish you," he said, "it wouldn't be by yellin'. Not for what you did."
Margo felt hope returning. He sounded like he was beginning to soften. "Whatever you say, Sheriff," she blurted anxiously. "Just don't tell my momma."
"All right, then," he snapped. There was a vicious gleam in his eye, but the girl was relieved to see it. "It'll be a lickin'. Right here and now."
The teenager blushed. Daddy had spanked her often when he was alive. But she was too old for that sort of thing now. Sheriff Tilden didn't think so though. He was already rising from his chair and rolling up his sleeves. She waited for him to dismiss his deputy, but he didn't show any intention of doing so. He just walked toward her without a word.
"All right," he said. "Take off your clothes."
Margo was flabbergasted. Take off her clothes?! What did he mean. When she was a little girl Daddy used to make her pull her panties down to spank her. But even he stopped doing that when she began to grow hair on her cunt. She just stood there shaking, without saying a word.
"Now look," Tilden said, growing impatient. "Do you want me to punish you, or should I leave that to your momma?"
"But Sheriff," she wailed. "Do I have to take my panties down?"
"Course," he roared. "Lickin' won't hurt enough through your clothing." Then he added, "and I didn't say your panties. I said everything." Beside him Luke McLean was licking his lips in anticipation.
The girl began to cry openly, "everything?" she sobbed. "I front of him?" She looked helplessly at the grinning deputy.
"That's the whole idea," Tilden answered impatiently. "We're going to learn you some shame. You sure didn't mind takin' 'em off in front of that Petey fella." Margo sniffled. "Now you gonna get on with it? Or should I forget the whole thing and give your momma a call?"
The youngster felt her face turning red. She really didn't have much choice. This was the most humiliating moment of her life. With trembling fingers she began to undo the waistband of her skirt. She felt Tilden's eyes boring into her, and was aware that McLean was staring too. From the corner of her eye, she could see him wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
She let the skirt slide down over her thighs and stood there with it puddled at her feet. Her skimpy purple panties were scandalous. The two men stared at them with open expressions of lust on their faces.
"Ought to be ashamed of yourself, wearing underpants like those," Tilden scolded. "No wonder you got yourself in so much trouble. Now take 'em off and give them to me."
Looking down at her feet, Margo removed her drawers for the second time that evening. This time, though, her pussy was dry. She wished she was dead. Unable to meet his glance, she held out the wispy scrap for the sheriff. He snatched it and lifted it to his nose.
"You been thinkin' lustful thoughts," he said angrily, tearing the garment in half and throwing it from him. "I'm gonna have to lick you good. Now get the rest off and take your punishment." As he spoke, he began to unbuckle the heavy black belt which held up his pants. It was made of thick and shiny leather. The very sight of it made Margo shudder.
Could he be planning to use that on her? Oh, God. For the first time since she started to undress, her shame was overpowered by another emotion. She was terrified. With fingers that were icy cold, she unbuttoned the front of her blouse. Her tits remained in place as she shrugged out of it and dropped it to the floor. All she wore now was the shiny steel handcuff which dangled from her left wrist.
Tilden doubled his belt and slapped it noisily against the palm of his hand. Then, grabbing her dangling manacle, he pulled her roughly over to his desk. She felt its hard wooden edge strike painfully against the front of her thighs and grunted softly.
"Bend over that desk," the sheriff commanded.
She sobbed, but did as he ordered. She noticed two heavy rings mounted at the far corners of his desktop and wondered what they were for. Then she found out. While the sheriff held her down with a heavy hand between her shoulder blades, Luke handcuffed her wrists to them. She felt the cool wooden desk top pressing against her nubile tits. She wondered what Sheriff Tilden was doing.
She didn't have much time to think about it, however. The moment she was cuffed into place, Tilden stood up behind her and swung his still doubled belt at her ass. She howled when it struck her. An angry red welt sprang up immediately across her left cheek. Without giving her time to beg for mercy, he struck her again.
Margo wailed and struggled at her shackles. She ground her naked cunt into the desktop in a vain effort to get away from the singing strip of leather. When he hit her a third time, she screamed without inhibition. Her buttocks were on fire. Each stinging lash of the belt made them burn and hurt even more.
She twisted and rolled in agony, bitter tears of pain streaking her face. But Tilden was unsympathetic. He stood back and unfolded the belt. Then he swung it again. His bicep tensed as he put all of his weight into the blow. The leather bit into her flesh, leaving a faint line of blood across both her curving asscheeks. She pressed her belly against the wood lifting her ass up high. Which ever way she turned, it hurt her more.
She was faintly aware that her cunt was turned back and that the two men were gaping at it. But none of that mattered any more. The pain was too intense for her to think about anything else. All of her muscles struggled against it. She was holding her breath.
When the cruel whip lashed across her again, she jumped, her feet actually leaving the floor for an instant. She felt her skin swelling up where the belt had cut into her. She felt her cuntlips clasping tight in sympathy with her ass. She was all puffy and warm down there, and her juices were beginning to flow. She didn't understand it, but the more he beat her, the wetter she was getting.
When she heard the leather swing back as he prepared to hit her once more, she lifted her ass up at it. It struck with punishing fury, the belt's tip whipping around to redden an inner thigh. She screamed again, a pitiful sound which came from the very root of her soul. But her cunt twitched with desire.
She felt her fluids running wildly. They filled the chamber of her vulva and overflowed it to moisten the outer lips of her snatch. She wished some of it would spread to her buttocks to soothe the burning pain which covered them. When he hit her again, she pressed her groin to the desktop. Oh, it hurt so much.
She moved her pussy in a circle, rubbing its burning flanges against the cool wooden surface of the desk. It felt smooth and comforting. She wished she could turn around and rub her backside against it. She waited, flinching, for the next blow. But it didn't come. Cautiously, she peered back to see what Brady was doing.
He was just standing there with his deputy. The belt was still clutched tightly in his hand, its end trailing harmlessly on the floor. Maybe he was finished. Maybe he decided that she'd been punished enough. Well, she wouldn't be able to sit down for a week, but it wasn't as bad as it might have been.
When he saw her looking back at him, Tilden turned to his deputy and said simply, "Turn her over." She didn't understand what he meant until Luke took hold of her wrists and unlocked the cuffs which held her down. Turning her quickly around, he refastened them. Only this time, her back was against the desktop and her belly and tits pointed up at the ceiling. Her burning ass was pressed painfully against the edge of the desk. Her cunt winked up at the sheriff.
He looked thoughtfully at it. She wished he would have the decency to cover her, but he just went on staring. He waited until Luke was back at his side and then lifted the strap once again.
Oh, God, he wasn't finished. She watched in wide-eyed disbelief as the leather belt sailed through the air toward her unprotected genitals. She just couldn't believe it. He wouldn't. He couldn't. And then it struck her.
The coarse strip of hide cracked right across her pussy, bruising both lips at once. She shrieked in agony. Nothing had ever hurt her this much. It couldn't be happening. When he lifted the strap away, she kept on screaming. The pain just went on. It didn't stop for a second. She saw him lift the belt again to aim another swipe at her cunt. Closing her eyes tight and turning her head, she tried to block him from her consciousness. But it was impossible.
She heard the belt whistle through the air as it came down at her, and she screamed in combined pain and terror. This time it laid a red stripe across her belly. Only a small corner of it struck her snatch, but the pain was excruciating. She felt her cuntlips growing red and puffy and her clit swelling hard. He would kill her if he kept it up.
There was a thick liquid dripping from the mouth of her vulva. She wondered if it was blood. Her whole cunt seemed to be filled with it. It was dripping over her thighs.
He hit her again, this time not as hard. The belt swiped across her hips, leaving a long horizontal welt just above the top of her hairy pubic triangle. She felt her crotch twitching uncontrollably. The lips of her cunt were opening and closing as though trying to pump air into the flaming interior.
Her nipples were plump and full, like a pair of juicy fruits perched at the peaks of her boobs. Their centers stood up firm and erect. They almost invited the next stroke of the whip. Tilden brought it down hard across the swollen titties, reddening the skin which until then was as white as milk.
Margo was crying now, but her screaming had stopped. She couldn't tell any more where the pain was coming from. Her entire body seemed to be cloaked in it. Her ass, her tits, her cunt, all seemed to have lost their separate identities. Everything hurt. Everything burned. Her whole being was on fire.
The sheriff's fury was gone, but he wasn't finished punishing her yet. Flicking the belt with a casual movement of his wrist, he snapped its end at her. The leather barely kissed her when it struck, but it stung like a bee. His aim was deadly accurate. With a rapid series of snaps, he lashed a circle around her cunt. The lash left a trail of welts across her reddening skin. Each little leather-bite came closer to her clit.
The little organ was painfully distended. Its shiny red head protruded from the membranous tissue which surrounded it. It was bathed in a puddle of sweet scented secretion. When the belt tip struck it directly, the pain turned to passion.
"Ooooooohhhhh," she groaned softly. Her eyes were lidded with desire. The pain was still there but somehow it was becoming lascivious. Her hips began gyrating, waving her naked pussy in a spiraling circle. She was acutely conscious of the masculine eyes which followed every movement she made.
Luke stepped in closer while Sheriff Tilden continued stroking her with the tip of his belt. She felt it licking at her clitoral mound, bringing the swollen pleasure button to even more responsive sensitivity. It was throbbing and pounding with excitement. Her pussy craved each new sting of the whip.
Her teeth bit into her lips in an effort to stifle the moan of pleasure-pain which spilled steadily from them. Her body was sheathed in a tingling glow of lust. Her cunt palpitated wildly. She felt its flanges drawing back to make the feminine slit gape open. She knew that it was grinning at the belt-wielding lawman, drooling its fertile saliva before his eyes. The knowledge that she was helpless--chained down before their unwavering gaze--was exciting her perversely.
They could do whatever they wanted to her, and there was no way she could prevent it. Her cunt was bubbling, reveling submissively in her captive plight. She was almost disappointed when the sheriff stopped whipping her to cock his head to one side and listen.
Suddenly tossing his black leather belt to Luke McLean, he said, "You finish this. That sounds like Sammy and his prisoner." Quickly, he turned to leave the room.
Luke just stood there staring at her, the belt held loosely in his hand. Then he dropped it to the floor. Licking his lips, he said, "You sure was a bad girl." His voice sounded wistful, as though he was trying to figure something out as he spoke. Maggie could see the fly of his trousers standing out in front of him. "I guess I should whup you some more."
His words made her pussy crawl. She felt the lips curling up as though to spit, and then pulling back to wink at him again. It seemed to be more than he could take. A hypnotized glaze in his eyes, he reached down to rub gently at his swollen prick. Preoccupied with the sight of her animated cunt, he opened his zipper and took it out.
Margo's pussy steamed. The whipping hadn't taught her to be good. It had somehow turned her on. And now the sight of Luke McLean's swollen hardon was turning her back into the girl who had gotten so easily in trouble in the first place. She yearned to have it inside of her. It was long and it was hard, and it could fill her cunt with a potion to ease away all her pain.
When he took the rigid weapon in his hand and stepped up in front of her, she closed her eyes and prepared for its entry. But he didn't even touch her with it. Opening her eyes again, she looked into his face. It was contorted with emotion. A trickle of spittle was forming at one corner of his mouth. His hand was moving slowly up and down the length of his rod. His obvious excitement aroused her still more.
Silently, she arched her aching back, trying to push her cunt out at him. But the cuffs bit painfully into her wrists to hold her in place. The edge of the desktop dug into the base of her spine. Each movement awakened another ache in her body as she rolled from side to side. Her cunt was crying for his prick. It was so close. So near. She had to have it or she would go up in smoke.
"Ain't you going to put it to me, Luke?" she asked softly. The whipping was already forgotten. "I bet you'd like to." She saw a pearly drop of fluid forming at the tip of his pulsating rod.
The deputy pulled harder on his cock in response to her words. His lips had grown dry, and he licked them repeatedly. His eyes were fastened to her undulating groin. They swept hungrily over her slash, exploring its sensuous redness. They locked on the quivering nub of her clitoris. Margo could almost feel his sight upon her.
Luke's other hand dropped to unbuckle his belt. He let his pants fall around his knees. He wore nothing underneath them. Margo was certain that he was getting ready to fuck her. She strained at the handcuffs to lift her hips and spread her thighs. The muscles of her belly stretched taut as she rainbowed up toward his prick.
She could see his scrotum hanging heavy like a bull's between the hairy columns of his thighs. It swayed forward and back as he stroked himself. She could almost feel it brushing against her. She watched as he dropped his free hand to cup it, rolling his testicles slowly in his fingers. The tempo of his masturbation was increasing.
"Please Luke," she whispered. "Ain't you going to ball me?"
"Oh no," McLean answered, his hand still moving mechanically over his rod. "I don't think I'd better do that." His eyes were vacant. His words came slowly and without intelligence. He had become a jerk-off machine, devoid of all rational thought. But he was programmed to obey his master. "Brady wouldn't like it," he said.
He was standing so close to her now that she could feel his knuckles grazing over the dark hair of her pussy as he pulled his cock up and down. She tried to lift herself higher so that at least his hand would press against her. But it was hopeless. The bracelets held her fast.
Her cunt was throbbing with desire. Her clit was thrumming mesmerically. She could sense the heat of his penis through the narrow band of air which separated it from her twat. She wanted him.
"Oh, please," she began weeping. "Fuck me. Oh, please please fuck me." A sea of lust flowed from her cunt, glistening brightly on the skin of her inner thighs. Her pussylips blew wet kisses at the deputy's slippery dick. But he ignored her plaintive pleas.
While he caressed his bag of nuts, he pulled his cock with skillful fingers. She could see each stroke begin at the hair-ringed base of his staff and end at the thick roll of flesh which formed a collar just under its-head. Each time another dollop of dew formed at his cumslit, he swiped a fingertip at it and rubbed it over the skin of his rod. She wished he would touch her that way too.
The sensitive tissues of her labia were tingling hotly with desire. If only he would dip his dickey in her or touch its tip to her urgently needful clit. If only he would touch her, stroke her, pet her with his hands. She needed contact with a man.
Suddenly a long arching jet of semen bridged the gap between them. It left his prick spasming jerkily behind it to sail through the air towards her cunt. She felt it splash over the pouting hungry lips. She felt it bathing her pussy-flesh in its heat. A sticky string of it started seeping inside her, wetting the satin which lined her crack.
He kept on spouting until his gism formed an unbroken stream which flowed from his prick to her pussy. When it rolled up to heat her clit, she too began to spray.
"I'm cumming," she gasped. "I'm cumming." Then she passed out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Maggie fell to one knee as Sammy McLean shoved her roughly into the cell. She turned around to shout something at him, but he had already locked the barred door and was gone. She was so angry she could scream. This time Brady Tilden had gone too far. When Jack found out about it, he would kill him for sure.
She had been in the middle of writing him another letter when Tilden's flunky pounded on her door. When she asked what it was about, he mumbled something unintelligible. All she could make out were the words "Petey" and "dickeydunking". He insisted that she come with him, not giving her any time to change out of her housedress and into some street clothes. When she tried to resist, he was downright brutal. Finally deciding that it would be easier to deal with Brady than with his mindless gorilla, she had gotten into the patrol car. But she had no idea that she was under arrest until they got to the jailhouse and he threw her in a cell.
She began to pace nervously, like a tiger suddenly imprisoned in too small a cage. Except for a couple of wooden crates, the cell was completely empty. She perched on the edge of one of them for a second and then got up to begin pacing again. A moment later, she heard a key in the door. She whirled in time to see Tilden enter with Sammy McLean right behind him. The sheriff was sweating profusely, as though he had just finished exercising.
"Maggie," the burly lawman began. "This is it! I mean this is really it. I got a county-wide APB out on your brother. And you in more trouble than you even know." Turning to his assistant, he said, "Go search her, Sammy."
The deputy's eye gleamed as he stepped forward. "Turn around and face the wall," he said, placing his hands on Maggie's shoulders. But she had taken all she was going to take. Lashing out at him with her fist, she clouted him on the nose. Sammy looked surprised.
"You keep your filthy hands off me," she demanded. She was enraged.
Tilden was on her in a flash, grabbing both her wrists in one of his powerful hands. He slapped her hard across the mouth, bringing the taste of blood to her tongue. Then he shoved her back against the wall. "Stand on that there box," he commanded. He obviously wasn't kidding around. Numbly, she complied.
The sheriff took his handcuffs from his belt and locked them tight around her wrists. She tried to stifle a gasp of pain, but didn't quite make it. Lifting her hands high above her head, he slid the connecting link of the manacles over a bolt which protruded from the wall. Maggie had to stand on her toes to keep from hanging by the painfully constricting bracelets.
"Now search her like I said," he told Sammy, stepping back to lean against the opposite wall.
When McLean put his hands on her hips, there was nothing she could do. Her arms were stretched high over her head. Every muscle in her body ached with tension. It took all her concentration to keep from sobbing aloud. But she was determined to deprive Tilden of the satisfaction of seeing her weep. Grimly, she bit her lip as the deputy patted her down.
She felt his hands travel slowly up over her abdomen, his fingers moving from side to side as though he were checking for concealed weapons. When he came to the swell of her breasts, he hesitated and took a deep breath. Then, grinning, he cupped each one through the bodice of her dress, using both his hungry hands to knead and squeeze them.
She felt him running his palms over the softness of her titties, his fingertips paying particular attention to the rising buds of her nipples. She wanted to spit in his face. He rubbed and stroked her boobs for much longer than was necessary. Then he ran his hands around to her back and felt her all over.
He cupped and pinched her buttocks, hurting her tender skin. He even ran a finger into the valley between them to probe through the folds of her dress at her anus. She almost gagged. When his fingers finished traveling coarsely over the silken skin of her calves and thighs, he turned to face the sheriff.
"Can't find no guns or nothing," he said. He sounded almost disappointed. "What should I do now?"
Brady Tilden sneered. "Never know with these nigger loving bitches," he said contemptuously. "They liable to pick up all kinds of tricks from their darkie husbands. Better check her pussy for razor blades."
Sammy giggled softly at the command. Then he turned to execute it. When Maggie realized that he was serious, she tried to kick him. But when she swung her leg forward, she lost her balance and toppled from the box. She hung there helpless. The handcuffs jerked at her wrists until she thought that she would pass out. Tilden just looked at her for a moment. Then he stepped forward. With a hand which roamed intimately over the curves of her tits, he steadied her and guided her back onto the box. Without warning, he tore open the front of the dress, pulling her garment from her. Within seconds, nothing remained of it. She was totally bare and vulnerable.
"If you give me any more trouble," Tilden threatened. "I'm gonna take that box away." Then, speaking to Sammy McLean, he said, "Now do like I told you. Search her cunt."
Maggie looked down with cold hate blazing in her eyes as Sammy approached her again. She could see her tits rising and falling with the effort of her breathing. She could see her knees trembling with the strain of keeping her balanced. Her cunt was a hairy bull's eye for the lecherous cop. He zeroed in on it with grimy fingers shaking.
She watched him tug her cuntlips apart with his thumbs. He pulled too far, and it hurt. But there was no point in complaining. Bringing his face close to her opening, he peered inside, squinting through one lust-lidded eye. Then he stiffened one index finger and stuck it roughly into her crack.
Her tissues were dry and unyielding, tensing in silent protest at the indignities which she was being forced to endure. But as he rotated his finger and moved it in and out, she began to feel them dampen. She cursed the instinctive reaction at first, but then was grateful for the soothing lubrication which it offered.
The deputy amused himself with her pussy, fucking it slowly with his stiffened finger. He looked like he was starting to drool. She was beginning to get dizzy. He added a second finger to the first and scissored them slowly apart and together inside of her. Her pussy grew even wetter. She could feel the tip of his thumb bump unwittingly against her clit. She was aware of the lovebutton's gradual growth to erection. When Sammy stopped fingering her to turn and face his boss, she almost groaned at the loss.
She hated herself almost as much as she hated the men. She was getting turned on in spite of her humiliation. It seemed to happen every time Brady abused her this way. What was she that she allowed it to happen to her? Was she nothing more than a cunt with arms and legs? A strangled sob escaped from her lips.
"What I figured," Tilden said crudely. "All right, turn her around." He stepped forward to help his assistant. Together they lifted her handcuffs off the bolt, pull her feet from the surface of the crate for a long painful moment. Then they set her down and let her hands drop. She tried rubbing them together to restore the circulation, but all she could get from them was a numb pins-and-needles tingling. There was a throbbing ache in her wrists.
Brady let her be for a moment, and then barked, "Face the wall!"
Dumbly, Maggie complied. Her body hurt and her face was red with shame. But she knew that they could make her suffer even more any time they wanted, and some instinct led her to avoid further pain. At least this way, she wouldn't have to face them.
Before she realized what was happening, Tilden grabbed her wrists once again and hung the bracelets from the bolt over her head. A burning sensation shot through her arms, from her shoulders to the tips of her fingers. She moaned aloud. She heard the two men moving behind her, but lost track of them as she clung tenuously to her consciousness. She heard the sheriff say, "OK Sammy, take a look in her asshole."
Involuntarily, she clenched her buttocks together. This she couldn't allow. Not her ass! It was too intimate. Too personal. It was the only part of her body which they hadn't yet violated. She had to keep them out of it.
When she felt Sammy's hands on her cheeks, she swung her hips to shake him off. Her thighs were quivering with the strain of keeping her balance, but she somehow managed to keep her buttocks squeezed tightly together. He wouldn't touch her there. She wouldn't let him.
Then Brady Tilden stepped up again and kicked the wooden crate out from under her toes. She swung heavily from the handcuffs. Their shiny steel edges cut mercilessly into her skin. "Uuuuuuuhhhhh," she moaned. Within moments, the pain had tranquilized her. She just dangled helplessly, no longer kicking or resisting. Through the blanket of agony which shrouded her brain, she heard the two men laughing.
"Ooohh, Pleeeeease," she whimpered softly. "Hurts... so... much."
Finally the sheriff pushed the wooden box back against the wall. Desperately she groped for it with her feet. But it was way off to her left. She could barely touch it with the toes of one foot. Her other clawed in vain for a toehold in the wall. Her weight still hung from the cuffs.
Tilden watched her struggle for a while and then nudged a second crate against the wall. This one was placed to the right of her. It took her foot a moment to find it. When she did, she found that she could get her weight up off the handcuffs only by balancing herself between the two wooden boxes. The position left her totally helpless. Her legs were splayed wide apart, forming a large uncrossed letter A. At its peak was her hair-covered groin.
She realized that her asshole was totally unprotected, and the thought made her cringe with fear and horror. There was nothing to stop him now. Nothing to preserve the sanctity of her anus. He could have his way with her in whatever perverse manner he chose. There wasn't a thing she could do about it. She was no better off than a slave.
"Let's get on with it," Tilden said to Sammy. "See what she's got up her ass."
The deputy jumped to comply, pinching her cheeks between his thumbs and forefingers until she moaned involuntarily. He pulled them apart to stare at the dark nut of her anus. She could feel his obscene gaze upon her, dirtying her most private orifice with its undisguised hunger. She could sense his hot breath across the tender brown slit.
"Can't see nothing," Sammy complained. "Closed up tighter than a drum."
"Well, stick a finger inside," Tilden ordered. "She won't mind it. Not once you get started." His words stung her like a slap in the face. If there had been a vial of cyanide between her teeth--like the one her husband carried--she would have bitten it right then and there. But there was nothing for her to do but endure.
She felt the deputy's fingertip probing at the self-protective tightness of her anal sphincter muscle. He didn't care whether he hurt her or not. She tried not to whimper as he screwed the stubby digit into her asshole, but the sound came in spite of her resolve. He buried his finger to the second swollen knuckle and rotated it slowly.
She felt as though a tree trunk had been rammed inside there. It hurt. The bony probe stretched the tight walls of her bowel making her ache to the root of her soul. She tried to roll away, but almost lost her balance to fall from the boxes. Gingerly, she transferred her weight from one toe to the other.
Her anal muscles were beginning to adapt to the intruding finger, loosening slightly. The fit was still snug, but it didn't hurt her quite as much. Sammy cackled when he realized it too. "Gettin' to like it," he announced. "Little hole's even asking for more." He rammed his finger harder, not stopping until his palm pressed tight against her buttocks. His other hand reached up to fondle the moist-lipped opening of her cunt.
"Still looks too tight to me," Brady said. "How'm I ever going to get my cock in there?" His words made Maggie's blood run cold. She wanted to jump forward to pull away from Sammy McLean's finger, but she remembered how it felt to hang from the cruel steel of the handcuffs. Biting her lip, she forced herself to accept whatever was coming.
"Better grease it up," Tilden said in a casual tone of voice.
Sammy immediately pulled his finger from her ass. She felt the tight lips of the roiling hole gape open for a minute, flooding her inner rectum with damp air. Then she felt his mouth pressing lightly against it. The tip of his tongue lashed out to wet the outer edges of her anal lips while his hands gripped her hips to hold her in place.
"What does it taste like?" Tilden asked.
Sammy cackled again. "Like shit," he answered. "What do you expect from an asshole." Hungrily, he returned to the slit, this time driving his tongue inside it. She felt the lingual probe exploring her inner depths, and for a fleeting instant ground back against him. Her whole body was starting to glow. Her cunt was flowing freely.
Sammy lapped at the tight brown opening with the blade of his tongue and then penetrated her once more with its thick pink shaft. She felt her ass muscles relaxing, her rectal walls softening before the animalistic tongue-lashing. She fought to hold back a faint sigh of pleasure.
"All right," Tilden said. His words were clipped. "She looks ready. Leave her to me."
"Want me to get out?" Sammy asked, stepping away from her.
"What for?" Tilden said. "You can stay and watch if you want to. Might learn something."
The dispassionate coldness in his tone made her cringe. Was she nothing more than meat hanging there on a hook? She wanted to scream and rail at them. To demand that they leave her alone. But when Brady's fingers began sliding sensuously over the skin of her buttocks, it was all she could do to keep from fainting with desire.
She heard the rasp of his zipper as he slipped out of his pants. She tried to look over her shoulder at him, but the movement brought a twinge of pain to her neck. She remembered the size of his mighty staff, and shuddered at the thought of it plunging into her asshole. But the shudder was not from fear alone.
She closed her eyes and tried to banish from her mind the lewd images which were flickering through it. But when she felt the tip of his prick brushing over the roundness of her asscheek, she saw it all in lurid detail. His hands would pull her buttocks apart while his blunt nosed prick rammed deep into her anus. She hated him for what he was doing. But she couldn't wait for him to start.
Brady held his long naked prick in his hand, sliding it up and down in the moist channel between her buttocks. Her hole was turning outward, flowering slowly open in lewd invitation. He jabbed delicately at it with the dewy tipped head of his cock. Then, with a hunch of his hips, he buried its pointed nose in the tight heat of her asshole.
Maggie drew her breath in sharply, wincing at the pain of his penetration. His cock was even bigger than she remembered. She was sure that it would tear her asunder as it reamed its way deeper and deeper in. But amazingly, her asshole managed to accept it. He drove it forward with jabbing thrusts of his pelvis, hesitating after each plunging stab to allow the tight little opening to adapt.
Every movement that he made brought another wave of pain searing through her loins. She wanted to pull away from him--to lift her body by means of the wall bolt to which she was shackled. But there was a perverse kind of pleasure in it too. She was being taken in the most brutal kind of way. And her body seemed to glory in it, as though it was a role which she had been created to play.
When he drove his hairy groin against her, she leaned back just the slightest bit. She felt the cuffs bite into the smooth skin of her wrists, but the sensation was overpowered by the tearing agony of his penetration. He was in all the way now. There was nothing more he could do to her.
She was trying to keep from howling in depraved pleasure-pain, but she was losing the battle. While he skewered her anus with his dick, one of his hands reached around to fondle her pussy. His touch was almost tender. She felt a fingertip gliding through the syrupy juices of her cunt and then tweaking the sensitive bud of her fuckbutton. She bumped back against him almost losing her balance. She could feel the wiry pad of hair which covered his loins scouring at her buttocks. Deliberately, she rotated her ass against it.
She was helplessly trussed, her arms pulled tight over her head and her legs spread to open both her holes to him. Her involuntary submission freed her of guilt. She remembered the old proverb: when rape is inevitable, relax and enjoy it. Somehow she managed to banish all rational thought to a deeply hidden filing cabinet in her mind. She gave herself over to lust.
It was obvious that Tilden sensed the change in her. As soon as her mind gave up the struggle he began cooing softly. "Now that's a sweet little cunt," he crooned, barely loud enough for her to hear. "My cock is all the way up your ass and it's get-tin' ready to go off. I'm going to fill your belly with my cum. But this time you're going to cum with me." Raising his voice, he said, "Sammy, move them boxes."
In a daze, his deputy rushed to obey. Maggie felt a rush of terror as she realized that there would be nothing to keep her arms from pulling out of the sockets. But the sensuous cravings which were mounting in the pit of her belly made her forget all her fear. It wouldn't matter if she died. So long as she died cumming.
When Sammy McLean kicked the boxes out from under her, she prepared herself for the wrenching pain which would certainly follow. But it never came. Instead of the boxes, Tilden's cock was holding her up. Her weight fell heavily upon it, burying it like a spear in the fresh raw meat of her asshole. She grunted as it drilled to the center of her bowels.
She tried to wrap her legs around him, but her position made it impossible. His cock was swelling up inside her anus, stretching the tormented membranes even further. And she loved it.
His finger was strumming her clit, making her squirm with mounting passion. Each twisting movement of her ass drove his prod even deeper into her belly. Her cunt was like a faucet which was opened full blast. Heated dew rushed from it, rolling down the insides of her thighs to make her sticky and wet all over. But she hardly noticed.
He clit was bigger and harder than it had ever been before. His hands were playing her like an instrument. As he fingered the swollen button, he rubbed and stroked the lips of her pussy. Skillfully, he manipulated her until she jumped and twitched on his rod like a stick puppet. She could feel the thickness of him tearing her roiling ass channel as he prepared to spit his load of gism in her shitbox. She was riding with him, bucking and rolling willingly before the onslaught of his mighty dick.
Her cuntlips spread wide open as he stuck two and three fingers at a time into the heat of her pussy. Her clit pounded rhythmically, its drumbeat taking her higher and higher and higher. She wasn't rising above the pain, but it was somehow becoming part of the pleasure. It was getting ready to happen. She was going to cum. She was going to explode.
She felt the first heated spurt of gism fill her asshole with its stickiness as his dick began to spit. She didn't hold it back any longer.
"Aaaaaaaiiiiiiiyyyyyyy," she wailed as her passionate feminine orgasm began. She dropped down onto his cock and then pulled herself up off it again, ignoring the ache in her shoulders. She stroked his turgid rod with the lips of her tightly clenching anus, wringing jet after jet of semen from its tip. She sighed and she sobbed. She howled and she hollered. She let a river of cumjuice roll from the lips of her cunt. His hand was covered with it. Some flowed back to coat the base of his dick.
For a moment they were lovers, sharing the ecstasy of mutual orgasm. It was glorious. It was stupendous. It was better than anything she could ever remember.
But it was temporary. After his penis finished shooting its load, it softened inside her. Her climax coasted to a stop. There was no longer a rigid pole of manmeat supporting her weight. She was hanging from her wrists again, her whole body wracked with pain. She felt Brady's peter slip flaccid from her asshole as his hands left her cunt. She remained suspended without support, her moans of pleasure having changed to groans of agony.
She waited for them to put the boxes back under her feet. But to her horror, neither of them made a move to do so. Instead, Tilden drawled, "Not a bad piece of ass, after all. Sammy, why don't you take a turn while I go looking for Luke. Don't think he'd want to miss this."
She screamed once, but no one seemed to give a damn.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jack Henderson drained his drink and mopped his dark brow with a handkerchief. God, Central Africa was hot this time of year. Turning to the brown-skinned woman who decorated the bar stool next to him, he said, "Listen, Uhura, I'm trying to do you a favor. If I have to turn you over to my superiors, you'll end up telling them everything you know anyway. And I assure you, it'll hurt. You won't be the same woman afterwards. Now why don't you make it easy on yourself and give me the information that I want."
The woman stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray on the bar and stared into the smoldering butt. The dim light of the hotel lounge threw deep and exotic shadows over the angular lines of her African face. Her full tits rose and fell as she came to a decision. At last she looked up at him, her soft brown eyes lidded half-way. "All right," she said deliberately. "I'll tell you what I know. On one condition. Fuck me. Then I'll talk."
At that instant, Jack thought about Maggie. But he forced the image into his subconscious. He had been on this assignment for months--certain that the man Uhura worked for was with the Chinese, but unable to get the proof that he needed. He was too close now to receiving the information which his government needed. Too close to let notions of personal loyalty stand in the way.
He sighed. "Let's go," he said softly. "My room's upstairs." Mentally, he shrugged. Dropping a bill onto the bar, he took her by the arm and led her toward the elevator. The coal-black boy at the desk merely nodded silently.
In his room, Uhura started to undress at once. "I knew you were on to me," she said as she unzipped the back of her tight-fitting cocktail dress. "And I knew it was just a matter of time. In a way, I'm glad. This was what I wanted all along." She peeled the sequined garment over her shoulders and stepped out of it.
"To talk?" Jack asked. His eyes were traveling hungrily over her partially undressed body. It was a long time since he had a woman.
"No," she answered simply. "To have you fuck me." Her bra and panties were white satin, contrasting erotically with her dark brown skin. Her body was long and muscular. She looked as though part of the jungle was still in her.
Jack watched her peel the underpants from her loins, exposing a sprawling bush of coarse black cunthair and a shiny red slit which nestled in its midst. He thought he saw a black tribal tattoo on her hip, but he couldn't be sure. What a strange place Africa was. For all he knew, she might have been born in a grass hut.
His cock was starting to stiffen. Uhura was a beautiful woman. Her tits were big and round, overflowing the brief uplift cups of her bra. When she reached behind to unhook it, his prick twitched with desire.
Her tits cascaded away from her lithe and narrow chest as she dropped the brassiere to the floor. They were silky smooth, the color of rich milk chocolate. The huge round nipples which capped them were as black as carbon. Their centers rose turgidly before his frankly lustful gaze.
He tried to think of the assignment as he stepped quickly out of his pants. But for the moment the man in him was stronger than the agent in him. She was magnificent. And she was his for the taking. He undressed completely without once taking his eyes off her beautiful African body. Then he approached her, taking one short step at a time.
When he touched her shoulder with his hand, she melted into him. Her arms went around his neck and her lips fused hotly with his. He kissed her with passion, tasting the exotic spice of her mouth as his tongue slid over her lips. She sighed submissively when he lifted her into his arms.
He laid her naked body on the bed, his lips continuing to nibble hotly at her face. Her breathing was labored and regular. Her excitement was building. Like a sex-crazed she animal, she ran her hands uninhibitedly over his back and his arms. Her fingertips traced the lines of his muscles. Her palms caressed the smoothness of his skin.
He dipped his head to touch a hard black nipple with his tongue. Her body jumped as though stroked with a hotwire. He licked a delicate circle around it, bringing the turgid center to a throbbing peak of erection. Then he closed his lips and sucked it into his mouth.
The dark woman whined and threw her thighs wide apart. She writhed on the bed, pressing the soft globes of her boobs against his face. With his hands, he cupped one of them, kneading it with gentle erotic pressure. She uttered a lust-hungry grunt.
He trailed his tongue over the twin mounds of chocolate flesh, leaving glistening wet trails which connected one nipple to the other. He sucked each of the shiny nubbins in turn, sensing rise after rise in her level of excitement. Her breath was a wheezing whine. Her throat rasped huskily.
His fingers dove for her pussy. It was a long, wet, beefy red slash which shone bright against the dark background of her skin. It split the bottom half of her body like a knife-cut. When he touched it, she bucked up against him, muttering soft sweet obscenities in some primitive jungle tongue.
One finger plunged inside, sampling the boiling wetness of her cuntal interior. It was deep and roomy, swallowing him up in its drooling wetness. She could have taken an elephant's cock. He chewed softly on a nipple as his hand searched through the swamp of her loins. When he found her clit, she gurgled in contentment.
Her fingers were tangled in the hair of his head, pressing and tugging to move his lips across the hilly contours of her bosom. Her pelvis rocked back to tilt her cunt at him. He could feel the movement pulling its thick fleshy lips apart. He buried three fingers inside her, pulling them out again to smear her loins with bubbling cuntjuice. She was panting like a jungle beast in heat.
He rolled his hand over her clitoris, jabbing playfully at it with syrupy fingers. It was the size of a child's thumb, and completely erect. He could feel it standing away from the moist plane of her cunt, begging to be touched and petted. Taking its shiny pink head between thumb and forefinger, he jerked it slowly up and down. She groaned with each movement of his hand.
His cock was swollen and distended, its dark skin almost purple with desire. Her hands were moving over it with tender fluttering motions. Each stroking touch of her fingers made it throb with sexual thirst. He humped his hips forward and back, screwing her hand with his drooling rod. She pulled vigorously, working its dark fleshy collar up and down over the head.
He crawled slowly into position over her, his chest pressing flat against the cushiony mounds of her tits. Her nipples felt like a pair of glowing embers, burning hotly into the skin of his breast. He rotated in place, stroking himself with the softness of her. Then he angled his loins toward her hairy vaginal plane.
The woman manipulated his penis, rubbing its head up and down in the wet gash of her cunt. He could feel her fluids bathing him. He could feel her cuntlips kissing at him. He moved his hips in a slow spiraling circle, dragging his balls over the soft brown skin of her inner thighs. The gentle friction of his sac against her flesh made a shishing sound. The room was filled with the music of sex.
At last she inserted the head of his prick in the dank crack of her pussy. They both remained motionless for an eternal fraction of a second. Then, hungrily, he sank into her. His rod swept slowly forward, the blunt knob at its end plowing smooth cuntwalls aside. He felt the thick and pliant lips of her snatch close in around him. And he felt the velvety tunnel of her cunt suck him deeper.
Its walls were a series of muscular rings which contracted around the shaft of his cock. They massaged him peristaltically, milking his prick as it drove inside, At last he was buried completely in her pussy. It was feverishly hot, pulsating and palpitating with a desire all its own. He ground his hair-covered pubis against her, letting the steamy warmth of her pussy soak into his dick. Then he drew slowly back.
Four inches of cock stood between them now, connecting their loins across the tepid air which flowed between their bodies. He continued drawing out until nothing more than his prickhead remained within her. Then he stopped. Contracting the muscles of his groin, he spoke to her with his twitching throbbing cock. She answered with a series of cuntal spasms which made him gasp in delighted surprise. Thrusting swiftly, he buried the length of his rod in her pussy again.
Her lithe muscular legs encircled his thighs, gluing her cunt to his groin as they bumped and rolled across the mattress. Her tits squashed flat against him, their swollen black peaks digging into his chest with tender insistence. His hands worked their way under her to cup her shining mahogany flanks. His fingers explored the crack which separated the two firm-flesh buttocks.
Controlling her movements with the pressure of his hands, he worked her pussy up and down the length of his prick. She was hissing and sizzling like a snake. Her eyes were tightly shut, her nostrils flared. Her lips were drawn back to expose two perfect rows of white teeth. As he fucked her, she traveled through time to join the primitive creatures from which she was descended.
Her entire body undulated with a rhythm as old as the race. She was fucking with everything--not just with her cunt. Her toes curled each time he scraped her cervix with the point of his prick. Her fingernails raked at his broad back whenever he pulled back as though to leave her. Their loins were in constant motion.
He could feel the heat of her inner vulva elevating as he fucked her closer to climax. She was shouting in her tribal language, filling the air with guttural clicking sounds made deep in her throat with her tongue. Her pussy was flowing like a torrid jungle mudpot. She arched her back up at him, suspending her waving buttocks six inches above the surface of the mattress. Her sexual tension was lifting them both. She was getting tighter. Tauter.
So was he. His cock swelled to even larger proportions inside her. Its burgeoning shaft spread the walls of her cunt. His balls were beginning to tingle, their churning action filling his vesicles with heated sperm. His cock throbbed once in preparation for the blast. And then it fired.
"Uhura," he moaned as the billowing river of semen flowed from his cock. He didn't have to say more. She could feel it coming.
"Me too," she whispered simply. He could feel her pussy throbbing as the spasms of powerful orgasm shook her body.
The heated juices of their simultaneous climax mingled in the depths of her honeyed pussy. They cast themselves adrift in the shimmering ocean of it all, bobbing together in the waves of blistering fulfillment. He heard a sound like muffled tomtoms beating deep in the recesses of his brain-- some racial memory which could not be suppressed.
For a fleeting instant, he remembered his assignment again, but thoughts of espionage and international intrigue quickly faded behind a screen of erotic stimulation. He soared like an eagle on the wonder of her body. He pumped a torrent of his scum into her pussy.
Long after the orgasm had ended they lay together, each enfolded in the sheltering arms of the other. Each was warmed by the others fevered afterglow. For a time they were lovers instead of pawns in a vast intra-global chess game. But all good things pass. Jack thought again about his assignment. He had given her what she wanted. Now it was time for the payoff. Gently, he eased his body off hers to lie at her side. She stiffened slightly, and he knew she realized what was coming.
"That was fantastic, Uhura," he whispered softly. "But the cold war hasn't forgotten us." Almost sadly, he sat up on the edge of the bed.
The girl smiled wistfully. "You'll protect me, Jack?" she said softly. "Won't you."
There was a knock at the door.
Henderson sprang to where his clothing was piled in a rumpled heap on the floor and drew a short black pistol from the pocket of his pants. Approaching the door with caution, he said, "What is it?" He was still naked.
"For you a letter." It was the coal black boy from the desk.
"Thanks," Jack answered dryly. "Slip it under the door." It was just like an African to give service when it was least needed or desired. He watched the crisp white envelope slide in over the door saddle and shrugged.
He intended to leave it lying there until he finished questioning Uhura. But then he recognized Maggie's writing on the envelope.
* * *
Maggie lay naked on her bed. Her legs were spread as far apart as they would go. Her face was buried in the pillow. Beside her, Petey sat with a bowl of warm water and thick absorbent towel. Tenderly, he bathed the aching tissues of her anus.
Maggie was all bruised and sore down there. The membranes of her ass were torn and abused. The flesh of her buttocks was reddened and swollen. She tried not to think about the things which had been done to her, but the memories kept coming back.
After Tilden finished assfucking her, Sammy had taken a turn. His cock was not as thick as the sheriff's, and only half as long. But he used it brutally. He tore into her asshole repeatedly, jabbing its sensitive inner walls with his hardon and not caring that he was making her bleed.
By the time he had finished with her, Luke was waiting in line. He too was cruel and animalistic. While he forcibly sodomized her, the others stood around making jokes.
All the while, she was hanging from the bolt in the wall. The handcuffs bit painfully into her wrists, drawing rivulets of blood. They ran down her arm to cake in streaks on her pale skin. Once and a while they put boxes under her feet so that she could take her weight off the manacles. But even when they did that, they placed them so far apart that her body felt as though it was splitting right there at the groin.
After a while, Tilden ordered his henchmen to turn her around so that he could stick his cock in her pussy. It began to look like they would keep on raping her forever. She lost track of the number of times a man's cock went off inside her that night. She stopped counting the number of prayers that she murmured for death to come and end her misery.
When they brought her home this morning to dump her out at her door, she was more dead than alive. It Petey hadn't been home, she might have cut her wrists and ended it all right there and then. But her brother was tender and loving, insisting on bathing and treating her wounded organs.
He kept blaming himself, and begging her to let him take her away from there. He said that he knew lots of places in Charleston where they could stay. But Maggie was adamant. She was certain that Jack would be home soon, and she wanted to be there when he arrived.
"Ooooooohhhhh," she moaned softly as Petey smoothed the moist hot towel over the lips of her tender swollen asshole.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked solicitously.
"No," she answered. "Brady Tilden did that. Just don't rub so hard."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, bending to kiss the little opening. "Is that better?"
"Hhhmmmmm," she sighed. The touch of his lips upon her was soothing. Comforting. She was beginning to feel better. Careful of her aching muscles, she rolled over to look at him. He was so young. He had so much ahead of him.
Petey stared at her battered nudity, a look of guilty sympathy in his eyes. She saw him wince at the black and blue marks which speckled her titties. When he touched them, it was to heal rather than to arouse.
But in spite of herself, Maggie felt her nipples growing rigid. After the vicious brutality to which she had been subjected, the tenderness of his touch was a turn-on.' She felt her aching pussy warming. An involuntary groan of pleasure spewed from her throat.
Petey looked confused. As though he thought he recognized the sound but couldn't quite believe it. Dipping the towel into the bowl, he warmed it and wrung it out. Then he laid it lightly across the puff mound of her snatch. Maggie sighed again.
She could feel the warmth of the compress saturating deep into the flesh of her cunt. It soothed the aching muscles and relaxed her tense and burning tissues. It made her more sensitive, bringing all her nerve endings close to the surface of her skin. The slightest movement of his fingers stimulated her. Incredibly, she found desire returning to her loins.
Petey seemed to sense the change in her attitude. His touch on her pussy became less clinical and more affectionate. He was no longer patting the wounded area. He was petting it now. She felt her cuntlips flowering open for him. Her clit was stiff and erect.
"Fuck me easy," she whispered to her brother. "Show me how good it can feel."
Petey stood and placed the bowl of water on the floor. The wet towel was still draped over her twat. He quickly slipped out of his clothes and climbed onto the mattress next to her. Then he whisked the cloth away from her cunt.
She felt the sudden coolness of the air pass over her, making her swollen clit tremble. Reaching down, she passed her hand lightly over it. Then she pulled back her knees to spread the lips of her opening for him. She knew that Petey could see right inside of it. She watched his pubescent prick jump and twitch. It looked so hairless and clean compared to the sheriff's massive dong. Reaching for it, she held it in her fingers.
Petey allowed her to pull him into position between her contused thighs. His little cock was just a fraction of an inch away from her pussy. But he was hesitant. He was obviously afraid of hurting her again.
Lifting her buttocks up off the mattress, Maggie raised her cunt up at him. She was offering it for him to penetrate and play with. For him to make love to. For him to fuck. Tugging at his pecker, she pulled its head against her. Then, dropping her hands to her sides, she left him on his own.
For a moment, the youngster held back, posing obscenely between his naked sister's legs. Then he pushed himself gently forward. When his prick began spreading the hair-covered flanges of her twat, she moaned softly. He froze to his place, not moving it in or pulling it out. After an instant, he pushed a little further. This time her whimper was of obvious pleasure.
"Yes," she sighed. "Yes, fuck me, sweet baby brother. I need you more than ever. Help me forget the things that happened."
Petey needed no further encouragement. Throwing himself forward, he buried the entire length of his prick in her pussy, rotating his hips slightly to screw it inside. She gasped at the sudden shock of it, and bit her lip to bring the pain under control. But as he moved his penis in and out, the pain faded rapidly. Her beaten pussy was suffused in the soft warmth of pleasure.
She remained motionless before him, allowing him to do all the work. She could feel his little cock sawing rhythmically in her snatch. Its skinny shaft barely made contact with the membranes which the lawman's powerful prick had stretched so painfully. But it was a comfort just having him in there.
She could feel his hairless sex-hump nudging against her swollen clit, and she fought the desire to rotate her hips beneath him. If she didn't move, the pain in her legs was bearable. She sighed hoarsely as he fucked her to a plateau of shimmering pleasure.
Closing her eyes, she let the first wave of orgasm pass quiveringly over her. It came more as a relief than an ecstatic explosion. But it had a therapeutic effect. With each undulating rock of sexual climax, she felt her strength returning. When she was halfway into it, she felt like a woman again.
Just then her younger brother's prick began spurting. She felt him filling her with youthful sperm. She let it flow like a lotion through the injured convolutions of her twat. She wrapped her legs around his waist and fused against him. It felt good to be cumming with him. But she wished Jack was with her.
CHAPTER NINE
Jack straightened the tie of his army uniform as he stepped from the cab at the head of his driveway. He had been using a military cover since the Agency started sending him on assignments in Africa. It didn't command as much respect at home as the salesman-story which most of the other agents used, but it had its good points. He always did look kind of sharp in a uniform.
He thought briefly of the dark and sensuous Uhura as he walked with springing step down the drive toward the house. In his hand was a small leather bag, containing a few personal items together with instruments of his trade. He had disliked turning the African woman over to his superiors, especially when he was so close to success. But there really wasn't any choice. According to Maggie's letter, he was needed at home. And from its tone, he gathered that there wasn't a moment to lose. By now they had probably extracted all the information poor Uhura had to offer. He hated to think about how they accomplished it.
When he saw a sheriffs car parked in front of the house, he ducked quickly off the road and hid behind some shrubbery. The action was automatic, propelled by an instinct which had saved his life on a number of occasions. Stealthily, he approached the house.
He stole quietly across the lawn and crouched just outside his living room window. The lights were on inside, throwing moving shadows onto the shade. Cautiously he peered through the space between the bottom of the shade and the sill. It took a moment for his slitted eyes to bring the scene into focus. When it became clear, he felt his whole body chill.
Maggie was standing in the center of the room, stark naked. It had been so long since he saw her. His eyes lingered on the soft whiteness of her skin. His gaze traced the curving lines of her breasts and thighs. He felt his cock beginning to stir.
Then he saw the men who were with her. Two of them. They were dressed like sheriffs deputies-- green uniforms with black gunbelts and revolvers on their hips. One of them held a shotgun. It was leveled at Maggie's unprotected belly.
Jack's cold professional brain reeled drunkenly at the sight. He was enraged. Furious! What were they doing to her? What the fuck were they doing to his wife?
His anger threw him off balance. It robbed him of the hair-trigger alertness which was his stock in trade. He didn't hear the bushes rustling behind him until he felt the prod of cold steel in his back. Then something hit him on the head, and he tumbled into a world of darkness.
When he came to, he found himself handcuffed to the couch in his living room. Maggie was still standing naked in the middle of the room. As he opened his eyes, they met hers. Silently, she turned away in shame. Behind her, he could see her brother Petey. He too was chained to a chair. Like Maggie, he too was undressed.
Sheriff Tilden stood in front of Jack for a minute to let him get used to the idea of being a prisoner. Then he spat through his teeth and said, "one false move from anybody and I'll have my boys here shoot the whole lot of you for resisting arrest."
Jack neither spoke nor moved. In his business, people with guns played for keeps. If the man told you not to budge, you didn't so much as blink an eye.
"I've always suspected that you weren't takin' proper care of this pretty wife of yours," the lawman chided. "Goin' off to war and leaving her alone that way. Why she's about the most sex-hungry woman I ever seen. Seems like you just ain't satisfyin' her. Now you just set and watch, and we'll show you how to do it right.
One of the deputies giggled, and Jack glanced up at him with hate in his eye. This would be a perfect time for one of his backup men to come bursting into the room with pistol blazing. But this wasn't an assignment. And he wasn't in Africa. This time he was on his own.
Tilden turned to Maggie and said. "Lie down on the floor and spread your legs so so'jer boy can look at your cunt. Mus' be a long time since he seen it." Maggie's expression grew hard. She obviously had no intentions of complying with the cruel sheriff's lewd demand.
"Do it quick," Tilden shouted. "Or I'll cut this nigger's balls off and hang 'em around your neck."
Maggie stood for a moment longer, the alternatives running through her mind. A look of helplessness flashed across her pretty face. Jack knew that she would do anything to protect him from harm. He tried not to look at her.
But as she dropped to the floor and stretched out on her back, his eyes were drawn irresistibly to her. He saw bruises on her breasts, and wondered if Tilden and his gorillas were responsible for that too. Obeying the sheriff's command, she lay with her feet pointing toward her husband. When she moved her thighs apart, her pussy winked at him. In spite of the situation, he felt a longing for the taste of her flesh.
He realized that the others could see as much of her as he could, and the thought made him burn. He wished he could go and cover her with his shirt, to hide her intimate parts from their lecherous eyes. But his body responded erotically to what he saw. His prick was growing hard at the sight of her pink-lipped vaginal slit. His balls were working overtime.
Tilden balanced himself on one foot while he lifted the other to pull off his boot. He let it drop to the floor and threw his sock on top of it. Then he stood next to Maggie, holding his bare foot over her heaving tits.
"Now first you got what we call the foot massage," he said addressing Jack and chuckling sadistically. Lowering his foot he stroked one of her boobs with its heel. Jack wasn't sure, but he thought he saw the nipple starting to stir. Curling his toes, the lawman pinched the rosy disk between them. He rolled it until it erected and then laughed.
"You see," Tilden said. His face was twisted into an evil and contemptuous snarl. "Little dude'll stand right up for that. Let's try the other one." Moving his foot roughly across her bosom, he stimulated the other nipple in a similar way. It too rose to rigid erection. There was nothing the woman could do to prevent it. The response was built into her body.
Her husband whispered a muffled obscenity as Tilden drew his toes slowly down over the smooth white skin of her belly. He twiddled in her navel for a moment, using his big toe to explore its in-turned cavern. Then he moved his foot down in the tangled bush of her copper blonde pubic hair.
With his heel, he rubbed the mound where her clitoris nestled while he dug for the slit of her cunt. Jack wanted to turn away, to exclude the obscene sight from his line of vision. But he couldn't. He stared, fascinated, as the lawman plundered his wife's vagina with his toes. He knew that he could settle for nothing less than Tilden's life.
He saw Maggie's vulva opening reluctantly before the sheriff's foot. He resented her for it. But he understood. His own sexuality was straining at the front of his pants, brought to full excitation by the sight of his wife's humiliation. It was out of his hands. Just as it was out of hers.
The grinning cop stroked her clit with the ball of his foot, bringing it poking forth from the cave in which it resided. Jack saw it straining upward, away from the safety of her pudenda. It seemed to be reaching out for contact. With anything. Even the sheriff's foot. He wanted to retch.
"Nice pussy," Tilden exclaimed. Stiffening his big toe, he inserted it between the lips of her cunt. Maggie tried to wriggle away, but he pinned her to the floor with his heel against her mound. Before Jack's tormented eyes, the lawman slipped the fat digit into her moistening crack.
"Maybe my toe's too small for her," the sheriff said, suddenly inspired. "This cunt must be used to bigger and better things. Married to a nigger an' all. Come on over here, Sammy. Let's see what she thinks of that twelve-gauge."
The deputy cackled hoarsely at the chiefs lewd suggestion. Then he dropped to his knees beside the naked woman and lay the cold shotgun barrel across the hairy hump of her pubis. Maggie's face contorted in horror, but she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
"Better pull your pussy open for him," Tilden ordered. "Otherwise that thing might go off. Sammy's got a very nervous trigger finger."
Tears began to stream from the corners of her eyes, but she did as he told her. Taking the lips of her snatch between her thumbs and forefingers, she drew them back as far as they would go. From his seat on the couch, Jack could see the pink convolutions of her inner cunt. He longed to run his tongue over them--to soothe away her pain and degradation. But all he could do was watch as McLean placed the muzzle of the gun at her opening.
Maggie's eyes were closed, her face turned away from her husband. Even Petey was trying not to look. But Jack stared, mesmerized by the despoiling of his beloved white-skinned wife. When the tip of the gun-barrel entered her sanctum, he groaned aloud. The humiliation was just beginning.
"Give her a little more of it," Tilden said.
Maggie grunted as the cylinder of steel penetrated further. Jack wondered whether it hurt her, and resolved to select an appropriate punishment for the sheriff as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
"Go ahead, fuck her with it," the lawman told his assistant. "I'm going to fuck her myself in a minute, and I want her good and hot." Then turning to sneer at Jack, he added, "I'll bet you're looking forward to that part."
The gun barrel sawed deep into her cunny, as Sammy worked it in and out. Jack could see the blue steel being coated with a sheen of her juices. It looked like her clit was starting to throb. So was his cock.
"Luke," the sheriff said to his other deputy. "Why don't you go play with her titties a bit. I remember how much she liked that the last time we all got together." He leered at his handcuffed prisoner and cackled obscenely.
Luke was quick to obey his leader's order. Sitting cross-legged next to her head, he cupped her naked boobs and started petting them. He ran his fingers lightly over the pale and silken skin, bringing the nipples to hard erection again. Then he took the rose pink nubbins in his fingers and rolled them gently.
Maggie loosed an involuntary sigh. Jack recognized the sound. She always made it when he made love to her. It was the voice of her hunger. The bastards were getting to her.
The sheriff removed his pants and stood stroking his own penis while his men toyed with the woman. Then he walked in front of her husband and showed it to him. "See this," he said. "That's what I'm going to put in her next. Right into her pussy. Maybe I'll even let you put it in for me. Would you like that?" He laughed lecherously and added, "Well, maybe not this time. You might hurt yourself some way. Ain't nothing in the ol' army manual to cover it. Well, just set there and watch, boy. You'll learn how, by and by."
Tilden was really amused by his own words. He was breaking himself up. Jack wanted to cut his prick off and stuff it down his throat. But he held his tongue and watched, with cold unblinking eyes.
"All right Sammy," the chief cop said. "Get that pop-gun out of there and make room for a cannon. Luke, leave those tits to me."
The bound agent stared as the tempered steel of the shotgun slid out of her too-receptive cunt. It was glistening with the dew of her excitement. Her cuntlips gaped open in disappointment as the weapon was withdrawn. Then, trembling, they fell loosely together. The head of her clit was visible above her feminine crack.
When Brady crawled between her knees, she seemed to pull them back slightly, as if in invitation. Jack couldn't quite be sure. Taking her ankles in his powerful hands, the County's top lawman pushed them up, bending her knees. He pressed them against her ample tits, bringing her winking cunt into a more accessible position.
Jack saw it pointing up at the sheriffs swollen prick--a pouting red gash that dripped with fragrant honey. He watched, silent and sullen, as Brady Tilden brushed one hand across it, strumming the lips like guitar strings. Maggie sighed, though she probably didn't even know it.
The sheriff played with her clitoris for a moment, tweaking and rolling it in his calloused fingers. Then he pushed his prickhead against her opening and rolled his hips. Jack could see the fleshy flanges of her womanhood turning back to accept his alien hardness. In a flash, Tilden's rod was plunging inside.
He threw himself against her, burying his prick to the base in the humid aperture of her pussy. Then he rolled his hips in a spiral. The handcuffed husband heard his wife's breathing deepen.
As the sheriff moved up and down, his asshole opened and closed, winking mockingly at Jack. The hairy sac of his testicles dangled down to slap at Maggie's buttocks with each pile-driving instroke. It swung back as he pulled slowly out.
The lawman whispered something which Henderson couldn't hear. But Maggie immediately wrapped her legs around his waist. This pulled her ass up off the carpet, giving Jack a clear view of her twat with the foul prick of the sheriff skewering into it. His own cock was so stiff that he thought it would shatter.
He tried to remain cold and impassive as the bigmouthed cop fucked his wife. He tried to pretend it was an assignment involving people he didn't even know. But he kept thinking about the softness of his pretty wife's pussy, about the way it had of wrapping cloyingly around a penis. He hated to think of it stroking Tilden's prick like that.
The sheriff was moaning in a voice loud enough to tell the whole world how good it was feeling. Jack strained at his manacles, trying to drag the couch behind him as he dove for the lawman. But Sammy's shotgun hammed into his nose, pushing him back against the cushions. He could smell the acrid fragrance of cuntjuice on the bore. Shuddering, he remembered where it had been.
"Luke," the sheriff called hoarsely. "I don't seem to be enough for her. Stick your prick in her mouth while I fuck her. Maybe that'll keep her busy." The other deputy laughed and pulled his zipper down at once. "And Sammy," Tilden added. "Keep an eye on so'jer boy. Make sure he don't miss a thing."
But Jack didn't need to be forced to watch the lewd performance. For him there was nothing else in the world. He stared as Luke McLean placed the tip of his prick against Maggie's soft pliant lips. She resisted, clamping them tightly together. It made Jack feel better somehow.
But Sheriff Tilden wanted everything. And he had a sadistic imagination. "So'jer boy," he called. His breathing was heavy with the labor of fucking another man's wife. "Tell her to lick my deputy's cock like a lollipop. Tell her or I'll have Sammy blast your head off right here and now."
Jack considered the possibilities in the flash of an instant. Then he said "Do it, Maggie." His voice was tired and resigned. "Do what he says."
"Not good enough," Tilden roared. He pinched Maggie's tit until she screamed. "Tell her exactly what to do."
"Lick his prick," Henderson said without showing emotion. "Lick his prick like a lollipop." Weak, he watched as she thrust her tongue out from between her lips and rolled it over the deputy's organ. What else could she do? What could either of them do?
Brady Tilden went back to fucking her in earnest now. His thick penis slid in and out of her cunt, the hair which surrounded its base tangling with hers as their loins came together. She was making a rhythmic rasping sound in her throat. And her tongue was fluttering enthusiastically over Luke McLean's swollen cock. Jack recognized her level of excitement. She was losing touch with her surroundings, retreating into the world of sexual pleasure.
That fucking Tilden. His cock was bringing her joy. His very brutality was turning her on. Jack couldn't blame his wife for her responses. They were natural. They were instinctive. She was too aroused to be rational. She was like any animal at breeding time. Her cunt did all her thinking.
He twisted in his seat in an effort to untangle his own swollen cock from the material of his pants. It was throbbing excitedly, in automatic reaction to Maggie's arousal. He could feel her vibrations of impending orgasm. He knew that she would soon be popping her rocks.
She had opened her mouth to take Luke's cock all the way into it. She was sucking noisily, doing even more than Brady had commanded. Her husband could see her cheeks billowing as she swished her heated saliva over the pulsating tool. A steady moan of desire was bubbling from her throat.
Her ass undulated wildly as her cunt rose up to meet Brady Tilden's thrusts. Her body seemed to be begging for fulfillment, glad to be having him fuck her. Jack felt his balls churning with emotion as he watched his wife give herself to two men that she hated. They had forced her, of course. But they weren't forcing her now.
The pitch of her voice rose higher and higher as she neared release from her tension. He knew that she was getting ready to climax. He dreaded the thought of Tilden cumming inside of her. But that, too, was inevitable.
Luke was the first to pop off, however. He announced it with a grunt, and a face which grimaced with delight. "Drink my gism, bitch," he rasped. "I got enough to fill your belly." His balls seemed to lift up into his body as his cock swelled and spit in her mouth.
Jack could see her cheeks billow with the heated fluid. He imagined it coursing over her tongue, filling her throat with the taste of slime. He saw her swallow several times in an effort to stay ahead of the spurting fountain. And he thought he saw a drop of sperm dot her lip. He tried to turn away, but could not.
A moment later, Brady sighed. His belly slapped against Maggie's as he threw himself against her again and again. From the way his ass muscles clenched and unclenched, it was obvious that he too was going off. His cock pulled a sticky rivulet of semen with it as it slipped out of her cunt. Its shaft was coated with a sheen of his pecker's own juices. When he drove into her once more, she shouted an unintelligible string of syllables.
Jack knew what was happening. Her humiliation was complete. And his. He watched as her body bucked and heaved on the floor. She reached up with her loins for Tilden's cock, screwing it deep into her womb. Then she pressed her ass against the carpet, dragging her pussy away until only his prickhead remained lodged inside. Up she rose, and away again.
Her husband knew that each wave of her pelvis was in reaction to another wave of orgasm. For an instant, he hated her as much as he hated the men. Then he forgave as his own cock began to spurt inside his pants. It pumped a hot torrent of sperm as he watched his woman writhing while two white pricks pinned her to the floor. When it was over, he felt all sticky and wet.
At last Brady Tilden rose to his feet, his flaccid cock glistening with a coat of Maggie's juices. He took it in his fingers and held it up for Jack to see. "Wrung everything out of me," he said.
Then turning to his deputies, he added, "Take this nigger out and hit him over the head. Then dump him in the woods somewhere. I don't want to see or hear about him again."
CHAPTER TEN
Jack woke up in a ditch, his body aching all over. The two deputies had really beaten the shit out of him. He hated to let it happen, but there really wasn't any choice. He could have taken them both under ordinary circumstances. Easily. But they had the shotguns. And there was no point in getting himself killed.
Instead of fighting back, he had concentrated all his energies on going into a trance. It was very simple, really. Right out of the Agency's field manual.
His breathing almost stopped, and his heartbeat became so faint that it couldn't be heard without a stethoscope. After kicking him around for a while, the McLean brothers left him for dead. But there was a lot of life left in his aching body.
He looked quickly around for his suitcase. He had been careful to carry it with him, not dropping it until they started to beat him. There it was, under a bush. Dragging himself painfully toward it, he snatched it up into his hands. Felt like a couple of his ribs were broken.
Although he didn't smoke, he took a small black cigarette-case from the bag. He removed three of the cigarettes and reached inside with a finger to stab at an unseen button. The box began to crackle. He lifted it to his mouth and started to speak.
"Soldier boy to central. Soldier boy to central," he murmured. It was like some primitive incantation. The box responded at once.
"We have you, Soldier Boy," it answered. Then a friendly voice added, "Scope says you're in West Virginia. What the hell are you doing home?"
"Personal emergency," he explained tersely. "I need a favor."
"You got it," the voice answered.
"I want you to talk to the computer for me," Jack said. "I need some information about the personal lives of three Davis County Lawmen."
"Will do," answered the box.
"I'm in a hurry," Jack added. "I'll wait right here."
Edna and Emily McLean laughed together as the Ouija board spelled "R A I N." In addition to being half-sisters, they happened to be the best of friends. Somehow it had seemed particularly apropos for them to marry brothers.
They never complained about being lawmen's wives as did most of the women they met at conventions. It didn't matter how unpredictable Luke's and Sammy's schedules were, or how little time they had to spend with their families. The McLean girls had each other. They were almost always together.
They didn't look much like sisters, although both were in their middle thirties. Emily was the older one, tall and big-boned, with dark hair and velvety brown eyes. Edna was petite, and blonde with green eyes. But sometimes they even seemed to think alike.
"You moved the pointer," Edna accused, looking up from the Ouija board.
Emily laughed. "And I thought it was you," she said.
Suddenly the door burst open, and a big dark-skinned man entered the room. In one of his hands was a leather satchel. In the other was the ugliest looking pistol that Emily had ever seen. It was small and black, with a snub barrel designed for nothing other than killing people. She leaped from her chair to stand in front of her sister.
"We have no money," she exclaimed quickly. "And our husbands will be home any minute. They're policemen, you know." The intruder smiled grimly. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't remember where she had seen him. "You... You better get out of here." She was making a conscious attempt to control the quavering of her voice.
"Shut up," the man said simply. He closed the door behind him, and walked over to the green French-provincial couch. Seating himself with his back against one of its arms, he stretched his legs and put his muddy boots on the cushion.
Edna resisted the urge to order them off. She and Luke had saved so long to buy it. But the gun was pointing directly at her.
"I thought I'd find you together," he said. "Saves me some trouble. Now let's see. What shall I have you do?" His words made no sense to Edna. But his voice was menacing. She was frightened. Looking straight at her, he said, "You. Get up and stand next to your sister." His tone was crisp and commanding. His words were terse and clipped. Immediately, she did as he ordered.
He looked from one to the other, appraising them in a frankly lecherous way. Emily was strong. She didn't move a muscle. But Edna shuddered. What could he want.
"You," he said, addressing Edna again. "Undress your sister. From top to bottom. Everything."
Edna's whole body was shaking. But she crossed her arms stubbornly in front of her chest. "I won't," she said. "I won't." She felt tears of terror welling in her eyes, and struggled to hold them back. But it was a losing battle. Her chest heaving with sobs, she began to cry. The man's face remained impassive.
"If you don't," he said softly, "I'll have to kill you and undress her myself." His thumb clicked off the safety on his gun.
Emily spoke. What he told her sister to do was unspeakable. But she couldn't let Edna get killed over it. "You'd better do as he says," she said softly. She knew that her sister would listen to her. She always did.
Edna's diminutive body was wracked with sobs. Her small breasts rose and fell with emotion. How could she do it? She looked at the gun. But how could she not? In a faltering whisper, she asked, "What do you want me to do?"
The gunman roared an answer at her, jolting her with its suddenness. "Take off her clothes," he boomed. "You can start with the sweater."
Edna looked from his gun to her sister's dark eyes. Then down to the curving front of Emily's torso. With trembling fingers, she fumbled at the buttons of her lime-green knit top. When she got two of them unfastened, she hesitated.
The crisp white lace of Emily's bra was already peeking out from the open front of her blouse. One more button and it would be completely revealed. She wasn't sure she could bring herself to continue. Then she glanced up at the gun once again and undid the rest of the buttons. She heard the dark man sigh with triumphant pleasure, and wondered if he had seen enough to let her stop.
"Go on," he commanded, before hope could build in her breast. "Get it all off."
Numbly, the petite woman pulled the sweater off over her taller sister's shoulders. Then she stopped, uncertain of what to take off next. Hoping that Emily was wearing conservative panties, she decided on the skirt. At least that wouldn't leave her naked. Her fingers worked at the snap of the waistband, undoing it reluctantly. Then, her whole body cold, she let it slither down over Emily's legs. Her terror almost drowned in the shame that she felt.
Emily's underpants were scandalously brief. They were white, like her brassiere, but they did little more than cover the puffed up hump of her mons. Edna felt embarrassed for her sister. She wished she could cover her with something more substantial. And then she realized that it wouldn't matter. The gun wielding man would only have her remove that as well.
Not waiting for another barked command, she took the elastic of her sister's drawers in her hands and pulled them down over Emily's flared and shapely hips. The thin band of material which went between her legs hung doggedly to the slit of her pussy. Then it pulled away, leaving her entire vagina exposed. The still-dressed sister tried not to stare.
Emily's cuntlips were thick and puffy, meeting in a damp line of pink. All around them was her pubic hair, almost black. Edna fought back an urge to cover it with her hands.
All that remained now was the bra. And for some reason, that was the hardest part. Edna had always admired her sister's big boobs. Even envied them, in a way. She hadn't really seen them since they were kids. But now they would be coming face to face. She walked around behind Emily, reaching up for the undergarment's clasp. Trying not to think of what she was doing, she unhooked it. The bra fell unceremoniously to the floor. Edna averted her eyes.
The man on the couch laughed obscenely. "Not bad," he said pensively. "Not bad at all. This is going to be more fun than I thought." He smiled with inspiration and said, "All right, now. Kiss her tits."
Edna gasped at the depraved instruction. Kiss them? Kiss another woman's breasts? Her own sister's? How could he expect a thing like that?
She looked up at him imploringly, tears streaming from her eyes. "Please," she began. But his face was impassive, completely unaffected by her display of emotion. He looked cold--almost professional. Feeling his gaze upon her, she turned and did as he commanded.
Emily's tits were shaped like footballs. The nipples which capped their elongated beauty were small--just a pair of pink dots on the whiteness of her skin. But when Edna's lips brushed lightly over her breasts in a token of compliance, they seemed to get larger. Their points stirred and stood out. The discs around them became darker. Edna was almost certain that she imagined it, however.
The man with the gun whistled softly. "Well, well, well," he said. "That isn't taking very long is it? All right Jaybird," he was addressing the naked Emily. "Do the same for your sister. Get it all off."
The dark haired woman's mind was scheming. Was he planning on raping them both? Certainly not at the same time. A glimmer of hope began to form in her brain. Maybe, just maybe, she'd get a chance to get his gun away. If he got interested enough in Edna, he might forget about her for a second. Just long enough to drop his guard. Steeling herself, she chose a course of action.
Boldly, she reached for the zipper at the back of Edna's dress. With one motion, she pulled it down. Her sister's garment fell open. Without removing it, she unhooked Edna's bra. She tried to ignore the gasp of horror which came from the frightened woman's mouth. There wasn't any choice. She could explain later.
When she took the dress off Edna's quivering body, the brassiere came away with it. Suddenly, the blonde woman's titties were bared. Emily felt a twinge of guilt as her sister threw her arm up to cover the naked cones of flesh. Grasping Edna's wrist, she pulled the hand away.
The twin buttons of her nipples were flat and brown, covering half the surface of her pointed little tits. With a tenderness that was genuine, the older sister stroked them. She wanted desperately for the nipples to harden. But they were unwilling. Spreading her fingers, she circled the nubs with them. If she could get his attention to focus on Edna, she might have a chance to save them both. Even if it meant diving for the gun, she would have to risk it. For Edna.
She felt one of the nipples starting to stir. And then the other. Edna's tits were swelling slightly, becoming hard to the touch. With swirling fingertips, she massaged them lightly all over. The nipples became rigid. Cupping the boobs she let the tight brown knobs poke out from between her fingers.
Edna looked up in horror, uncomprehending. Emily was participating in her degradation. She was petting and stroking her breasts without even being told to. And now she had gotten her nipples all hard. What must that terrible man be thinking? She told herself over and over again that they had stiffened in fear, not in excitement.
But when Emily's hands slipped away from her, her body felt a loss. Her nipples stood up taller, as though calling back the hands which had brought them to life. Her breasts swung in place, her breathing growing quicker.
Emily's fingers were tugging at her panties now--her last shred of protection against the obscene man's lustful eyes. When they were taken from her, she would be totally nude. Every part of her would be exposed to his gaze. She felt cold and clammy all over. Her crotchband was clinging damply to her vaginal creases.
With a swift sweeping motion, Emily finished stripping her. Edna felt her pussy cringe at the horror of being bare. The man was staring right at it, licking his lips. His eyes were fondling its flesh, his vision tangling in the silvery hair which surrounded it. She could almost feel his hot breath on her clit. It was awful.
Emily ran her hand across the soft upholstery of her petite sister's cunt, certain that this was a crucial moment. Now he would have to decide. Now he would have to choose the one that he wanted first. She just had to get him to pick Edna. Then they would have a chance.
She tried not to look at him as she played with the moist slit. She tried to concentrate on her plan. But she could almost feel his gaze burning into her. She heard Edna sobbing softly as her fingers glided in and out of her pussy. God, she hoped she lived long enough to explain.
"There," the dark man said softly. "That's nice now, isn't it? Now lie on the floor. Both of you." His pants were open and he was holding his brown cock in his hand. He stroked it slowly up and down as he spoke. "Blondie, I want to see you lick your big sister's pussy. Have you got that?"
Emily groaned aloud. She had never expected him to do this. God, she had played right into his hands. She saw her sister gag, a hand flying involuntarily to her mouth. The poor thing. Putting an arm around Edna's shoulders, she held her close. She could feel the small roundness of her titties pressing into the ample firmness of her own. She held her tight for a moment.
Then, disengaging her gently, she said, "We'd better do as he says, dear." Her own face was spotted with tears. Would her sister ever understand what she had been trying to do?
Edna allowed herself to be guided to the floor by Emily's gentle hands. There was no resistance left in her. Something inside her had snapped. She was like a robot, an automaton. She watched, unseeing, as Emily arranged herself on the carpet. Her thighs were flung wide open. Edna didn't know what to do next.
"Lick that pussy," the man said gruffly. "Or I'll shove my gun inside it and fire." From the corner of her eye, she could see him playing with his prick. Her mind was whirling. She was dizzy.
Trying to keep her eyes in focus, she bent over her sister's reclining body. She stared at Emily's navel, trying not to see below or beyond it. She could hear his foul breathing from across the room. And the slithering of his fingers over his stiff organ. Lowering her face, she extended her tongue and swiped it quickly over her sister's gash. It had a salty taste, not really unpleasant. But the thought of it made her want to vomit. She looked up, hoping that he was satisfied with her unwilling act of perversion. But he wasn't. There was an expectant look on his face.
"That's not enough," he said softly. "I want to see you make her cum." Then he got up from the couch and pointed his gun into Emily's face. '"And if you try to fake it," he said, "I'll know. And I'll blow your sister's head off. Then yours." He continued stroking his rod as he stood looking down at them.
Edna sobbed. Make her cum! Put her mouth on Emily's pussy and make her cum! It wasn't possible. The thought was too revolting. It wouldn't make her cum. It would make her throw up. She realized suddenly that he was sighting down the barrel of his pistol, aiming it directly at her sister's face. With hysterical speed, she plastered her mouth to Emily's vulva.
The salt taste had grown stronger. It was smeared all over the scarlet lips. It filled her nostrils with the acrid smell of heat. She tried to blot it out of her mind, but she couldn't. The flanges of the lengthy slit were spreading open. She couldn't keep her tongue from slipping inside.
Her sister was bucking and twitching jerkily, bumping Edna's nose with the prominence of her mound. She was almost acting like she liked it. Without meaning to, Edna thrust her tongue in deeper, tasting the rank inner sweetness of Emily's cunt. The other woman moaned.
Emily hated her body for the way it betrayed her. But Edna's mouth on her cunt felt good. And she couldn't make the good feeling stop. Sammy ate her pussy once in a while, but it felt different with him. His tongue was stiffer and more unbending. His chin was bony and hard. The stubble on his face irritated her thighs. With a soft lowing croon, she submitted her soul to her sister's light tonguing.
She began to arch her back, raising the slash of her pussy to give Edna easier access. She wasn't sure, but she thought her sister's attitude was changing too. She wasn't licking uncertainly or reluctantly any more. She was sucking and laving with a passion. Her teeth nibbled gently at the flanges of her cunt, the muffled sounds of her groaning filling the air.
Something had happened to Edna. Emily's response was turning her on, as Luke's never did. She knew that the intruder was enjoying the display, but she was beyond the point of caring. Her own cunt was raging with desire. She licked her sister's pussy like she would have liked to have someone lick her own. Her lips nuzzled the opening while she searched for the clit. She knew all about that little organ. She had rubbed her own many times when she was alone in bed at night.
When she found it, she wrapped her lips around it, sucking ever so gently. She had always wondered how that would feel. Maybe, some day, she would ask Emily. The lewdness of her own thoughts shocked her, but she no longer tried to hold them back or ignore them.
She had always wanted to kiss Emily's body. She had always longed to know the taste of her cunt. She almost recalled doing something like this to her before. But she didn't know whether it was a memory of childhood or the scrap of some long repressed fantasy.
She moved her body sensuously, stroking Emily's thighs with the tips of her own pointed breasts. She craved sensation too. She wanted to squirm the way her sister was squirming. She wanted to experience the pleasure which was obviously Emily's.
The black man who hovered over them with his prick in hand must have sensed the change in her. Gruffly, he commanded, "A little sixty nine now. Squat over her face, Blondie, and lick each other at the same time."
Edna's heartbeat quickened at the lewd suggestion. Her pussy drooled its sizzling fluid, wetting the hair-lined surfaces of her outer vaginal lips. Clumsily she tried to turn around without taking her mouth from Emily's yawning chasm. But she couldn't make it. When her lips came away from her sister's sex, the older woman sighed. Then, when Edna's cunt lowered over her face, she sighed again.
Emily found herself looking up into Edna's pussy as Edna's mouth connected with her cunt. Deep down she guessed that it was what both of them had wanted for a long time. She tried to tell herself that they were only performing; just carrying out the lewd instructions of a depraved gunman who held their lives in his hands. But she knew it had gone far beyond that.
Greedily, she stretched out her tongue to swab the outer lips of Edna's silver-lined slit. She heard her sister gasp. The sound pleased her, ticking off a reaction in her own sex slash. She felt herself opening to her sister, absorbing her mouth in the warmth of her pussy. She sucked Edna's clitty into her lips.
The blonde woman jerked back at the sudden shock of pleasure. Her sex button stood up like a tiny penis, making her, feel strong and potent. She felt her sister's tongue sliding over it, and she hummed unashamedly. The sound turned her whole mouth into an electronic vibrator. She could hear Emily's grunt of delight.
She tried to duplicate her sister's actions, sucking Emily's clit into her own hungry mouth. It felt even longer than her own. And thicker. She rolled it around with her tongue. She nibbled gently at it with her teeth. She didn't know which excited her more--Emily's cunt on her mouth, or Emily's mouth on her cunt. She was starting to pant, her emotions rising to a fevered pitch. It felt like an orgasm was beginning. It had been so long since she had one. She craved it desperately. She needed it. It didn't matter how she got it.
She rolled her hips to press her twat down hard against Emily's mouth. At the same time, she plunged her tongue deep into her sister's sweet flowing puss. She lapped and licked at it voraciously, the tangy flavor exciting her more and still more. She hoped that Emily would forgive her for what she was feeling, for what she was allowing to happen. But she knew forgiveness would have to wait. Her needs were pressing. They were urgent. They were, "NOW!"
She screamed the monosyllable, as if it explained all that was taking place. She shouted it again. And again. And again. Her cunt was unleashing its store of bottled up frustration, pouring out its message that she too was a woman. She writhed about on top of her sister's naked body, lapping every drop of the other woman's secretions. She knew from the taste--knew it instinctively--that Emily was starting to orgasm, too.
Their bodies fused together, uniting in the ultimate of human connections. Each poured the juices of her love into the other's waiting mouth. Each slaved with tenderness to bring the other one passion. Neither of them felt the hot splashes of scum which sailed from Jack Henderson's dick to wet their nudity. Neither heard the groan of release which issued from his throat when his penis stopped spitting.
Nothing existed for them but completion. They weren't even aware of the needle which he jabbed into first Edna's buttock and them Emily's. They just drifted off into instant and very deep sleep, their bodies locked in erotic lesbianic embrace. When their husbands arrived home later that evening, they would be just as they were then.
* * *
Jack gripped his valise tightly in his hand as he left the house. He was tired, but stimulated. Two debts had been paid. But there was still much to do.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jack moved swiftly through the night. Things were going well. He would be at Tilden's home in just another minute. According to the computer, his wife spent all her nights alone. This should be easy. Stopping to check the tape recorder in his bag, he satisfied himself that it would be ready for the job.
Millie Tilden sighed as the heated bath water swished over the tissues of her naked cunt. She had showered earlier today, and wasn't really in need of cleansing. But the hot soak felt so good that she just couldn't resist it. Her body craved attention, and maybe bathing would satisfy it.
Brady was hardly home at all any more. It was as if Davis County had suddenly become the national crime center or something. He "worked late" almost every night. And when he got home, he was almost always short with her, and too tired for sex. It was frustrating for a passionate woman like her.
Oh, she didn't mind his screwing on the outside once in a while. She understood that men needed to do that kind of thing. She didn't even mind his double standard or the fact that he told her repeatedly that he'd kill her if he ever caught her messing around. The fact was, until lately, she'd never even thought about having sex with another man.
He'd been neglecting her so badly, though, that she was beginning to find infidelity creeping into her dreams at night and into her daytime fantasies. Sometimes she thought about Robert Redford or Paul Newman. She'd be dressed in frilly night-clothes and be lying on satin sheets while they touched and kissed her all over. She'd spread her legs willingly while they while they played with her pussy and entered her with their handsome pricks. She'd have magnificent fantasy orgasms while her fingers flashed in the swollen gash of her cunt.
But it just wasn't enough. A woman like her needed a real man once in a while. Masturbation was too temporary. It never really left her satisfied. It couldn't stop the tingling insatiable itch which her pussy always felt--which it felt even now.
Knowing that it was hopeless, she swept her hand over the mound of her pelvis. The hot water was making her more sensitive. The instant her fingers touched the cleft, her whole groin started tingling. She slid down further into the water until it nearly covered her breasts.
She began cupping them with her free hand while she continued fondling her cunt. Her body was becoming warm. Even warmer than the faintly scented bathwater. She could see her nipples hardening to poke out above its steaming surface. She could feel them pucker with longing for touch. For male hands. For any hands.
She tweaked them lightly, feeling slightly guilty for her self-stimulation. It was a childish thing to do, really. Not mature at all. But no one would know. And it didn't really do any harm. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the sudden rush of pleasure.
One of her fingers were deliberately playing with the slit of her vagina while another probed for the little button of her clit. When the tiny penis-like organ began to stir, she sighed. She could feel the leaves of her twat flowering open as her fingers stole inside.
It felt so good. Almost good enough to make her forget that the hunger would return too soon. She plunged her digits into the roiling well of desire which throbbed between her thighs. Her cunt sucked at them, its satin walls closing in to stroke them like an imaginary cock. The water's heat penetrated her opening. She started to fuck herself with her hand.
She was immersed so deeply in the pleasure of her auto-erotic caress that she didn't hear him enter the bathroom. But she felt a sudden chill as cool air followed him through the open door. She opened her eyes and gasped when she saw him. He was a Black man--tall and powerful looking. In one hand he held a suitcase. The other held a gun.
For a moment her heart stopped. Fear clutched at her vitals. Fear of death. Of worse. Then suddenly she was ashamed. Her fingers were still buried in the slit of her pussy. Her hand was still cupped over the swell of her tits. Her eyes closed for a moment and then opened again. Reddening, she turned her face away.
She tried to cover herself with her hands, but realized the impossibility of the task. Finally she let them drop to the water. She couldn't speak. She just looked at him dumbly. He set his suitcase down on the sink, and clicked some kind of a button inside it. Then, still pointing the gun menacingly at her, he undid the buckle of his belt.
Millie trembled. He had come to rape her. And there was no way to stop him. She felt the tub water grow cold as she saw his massive black cock spring into view. Beneath it his balls hung in a dark and furry purse. As he stepped out of his pants, they swung forward and back.
She felt her nipples aching with desire. He was going to fuck her. He was going to put that big brutal dick inside and thrust in and out until he came. And it wouldn't be her fault. Brady could never blame her for it. She wasn't messing around, she was being raped.
"What do you want?" she croaked. Her voice was tense with excitement.
"Don't you know?" he asked in a throaty masculine tone.
"Are you going to shoot me?" she asked, gesturing toward his gun.
"Not if you cooperate," he answered smiling ruthlessly.
"Are... are you going to rape me?" she asked. Her whole body was trembling. Her skin was covered with gooseflesh.
"Get out of the tub," was all he said. He brandished the gun before her.
She stood up slowly, water dripping from her tits and buttocks. "You don't need that gun, you know," she said deliberately. "You saw me masturbating when you came in. I'm so hot I'm going crazy. I'll do anything you want. Just treat me gentle. Just get me off."
The black man smiled more broadly. Picking up his suitcase, he said, "Lead me to the bedroom." He waved the gun at her again, but the menacing sneer was gone from his face. She was no longer afraid. As she walked, she felt his gaze upon her swinging ass.
In the bedroom, she turned and reached for his penis, ignoring the gun which he held. It no longer frightened her. "My," she said. "Your cock is so big. Much bigger than my husband's. He's the sheriff, you know. You're going to be fucking the sheriffs wife. But don't worry. I won't describe you to him. Not accurately that is."
The man's cock throbbed in her hand, and she felt her pussy sizzle with heat. Placing his suitcase on the floor near the bed, he put his gun down beside it. Then he led her to the bed. "What would you like to do to my cock?" he asked her. The question brought a thrill to her womb.
"I'd like to suck it," she said, falling to her knees. "Can I suck it? Can I please?"
"You want to suck my black cock?" he taunted.
"Yess," she hissed in answer. "I always wanted to suck a big black cock." Opening her mouth, she closed it around the muscular length of his prick. Her tongue swept over it, making audible slurping noises. The sounds were turning her on even more. She felt liberated. His gun and his felonious intention freed her to do anything she wanted. And it wasn't even cheating.
, She moved her head back and forth, gobbling the shiny black length of his dick into her warm receptive throat. Her hands reached up to play with his balls, rolling them from finger to finger as she sucked him off. His chocolate prick tasted manly and powerful. She jabbed her tongue-tip at the slit which bisected its head, lapping the briny dew which was forming there. She let his cock pop from her mouth and extended her tongue. Licking him noisily, she ran its flat blade over his shaft and down towards his scrotum. "Yes," he said. "Suck it baby. Lick my balls."
Crawling between his legs, she cocked her head back to lick the underside of his nutbag and around to the shadowy pit of his anus. A Black man's asshole. She would taste it. She would kiss it. Lifting herself higher, she pressed her lips to his buttocks, kissing loudly. Then she nibbled her way over the puckered hole of his ass.
"I'm going to lick your asshole," she moaned. She felt his prick twitch to her words.
It felt good to turn a man on again. It excited her. Made her feel like a woman "Mmmmmm," she intoned. "I'm licking it. And it tastes so good." She filled her mouth with the musky smell of him. She ran her tongue up and down over the orifice. She hadn't been this aroused in months.
Stiffly, she inserted her tongue in the opening. It was tight and elastic. But that excited her still more. She drove deeper, pushing it past the rubbery sphincter muscle and tasting of the mysterious spice of his rectum. "Aaaaaahhhh," she sighed. "You taste so sexy."
Her hand was pulling at his penis, jerking him off as she licked his rim. She felt it pulsating and beating, stroking her fingers with its manliness. He bent his knees to spread his asscheeks, and she plunged her tongue in deeper. She was assfucking him with it, making him moan.
At last, he pulled away from her. She was disappointed at first, but then she realized why he did it. He was about to cum, and he wanted to hold back. Well, that was all right with her.
"Don't cum yet," she said. "There are lots of nice things I can do to you. My husband doesn't even appreciate them anymore. But I know that you will. I know how you men feel about white cunt. Let me be your white cunt." She backed to the bed.
"All right, white cunt," he said softly. He sounded intelligent. "But I'm going to do things to you for a while. Tell me. What would you like?"
Millie was flabbergasted. Brady hadn't asked her a question like that in years. Her cunt boiled over with excitement. "I'd like you to lick my pussy," she said. "And I'd like you to put your big dick in my ass. I'd like you to fuck me every way that there is. I'd like you to bite my titties and leave marks for Brady to see. I'd like to smear your sperm over my belly and rub it in my hair." Suddenly a wistful gleam came to her eye. "I'd like you to tie me down to the bed and ravish me brutally."
The man seemed to like the idea. His eyes gleamed bright against his darkly handsome skin. He swept a scarf off the top of her dresser and tore it into four strips. Then he moved toward her, reaching out to place his fingertips on her chest. Pushing gently, he shoved her backward onto the mattress.
Millie spread herself out for him, her wrists and ankles pointing to the four corners of the bed. Her breathing deepened as she felt him tying her with the pieces of scarf. It was happening. Really happening. When he was finished tying her, he stood up and looked at her nude body. His cock throbbed as he studied her tits. Bending over her, he rubbed its tip against one of her nipples. She crooned softly.
Although he had come in with a gun, the man was more tender than her own husband ever had been. He was turning her on with the gentle touch of his penis. He was massaging her with his balls. She murmured, "Ooooohhhh, that feels so good. I wish Brady was more like you." The Black man's face lit up with a buddha smile that confused her for a moment. Then the sensation of his caress wiped it from her mind.
He bent to press his mouth to her pussy, kissing it softly with lips that were pursed. "Yess," she sighed. "Lick my pussy. I love it. I love it."
She felt his tongue slide into her, wetting the flanges of her cunt. She felt her hips rising up to him, yearning for still more of his handsome body. She shoved her clitoris at him, whining when his tongue lashed it to erection. "My clit," she sobbed. "My cliiit." She was in sensual heaven. She wanted it never to end! "Fuck me," she whispered. "Put your cock in my cunt."
"Beg for it," he said. The smile had returned.
"Oh, yess," she moaned willingly. "I'm begging. I'm begging. Ooooohhh please give me your cock. Ooooohhh please put your big black prick in my little white pussy. Take me. Take me."
That seemed to satisfy him. Coming onto the mattress, he hovered over her, his knees straddling her chest. She could feel the wrinkled bag of his scrotum grazing lightly over the tingling skin of her breasts. Her nipples reached up for him. He dragged it over her belly and down across her cunt. Then he lowered himself until his cock nosed at its door. She was becoming impatient. She strained at her bonds, trying to throw herself up at him. But they held her fast.
Slowly, deliberately, he brought himself against her. "Tell me when it's in you," he whispered in her ear.
"Ooooohhhh, yes," she moaned aloud. "It's in me now. Just the head. Just the tip."
Little by little, he pushed it in further, teasing her with the slow precision of his advance. "Deeper," she entreated. "Deeper. Deeper. Deeper."
He fell forward, driving its whole length into her at once. "Aaaah yessss," she wailed. "It's all the way in now. Your big black cock is all the way inside my cunt. And it feeeeelllls sooooo gooooood." She heaved her hips about, pushing her cunny up at him to grasp his cock's base in its flanges. "Suck my tits. Suck my tits."
He began to lick her nipples at once, as though he had been waiting for her to request it. Each time his tongue glided over one of her nipples, she sobbed in passion. As she laved the sensitive surfaces of her aureoles, her shouts of pleasure grew louder. He was shouting something. But his words didn't make any sense to her. "I'm fucking her good now sheriff," he was saying. "And now that she's had a man, how's she ever going to go back to you?"
Millie paid no attention. It didn't matter what he said, or what was on his mind. His prick was taking her on a marvelous trip. She wrapped her pussy around it and rode the charger to glory. It was bigger and thicker than Brady's. And he knew how to use it better, too.
She wanted to throw her arms and legs up at him, but the bonds held her tight. "Let me kiss you," she pleaded. When he lowered his head, she pressed her lips to his, holding him in a long lingering labial embrace. Her tongue snaked out to enter his mouth. Her teeth nibbled hungrily at his lips. She felt his thick black penis skewering deep into her belly. She wanted to merge with him completely.
She felt an orgasm building inside her, and she struggled to hold it back. She wanted the fucking to go on forever. Every breath she took was a frantic scream of excitement. The room was filled with the sounds of her insatiable passion. "I'm going to cum," she shouted at last. "Cum with me. Cum in me. Fill my cunt with your gism."
She slammed her ass down against the heaving mattress as her climax began. She felt her body going all out of control. Each thrust of his dick brought a wave of glistening ecstasy rolling across the plain of her twat. She felt her emotion spill over, the joy of sexual fulfillment overflowing her vulva.
"Oh, I'm cumming. I'm cumming," she wailed.
"Don't stop moving. Don't stop fucking me."
His cock started to spray, painting the walls of her cunt with his heated Black-man's semen. She howled like an animal as it started flowing into her. She could feel its sticky heat rolling into her tubes. She could feel its wetness greasing his strokes. It would be inside her forever--arousing her, turning her on when she craved satisfaction.
"Oh, I feel you cumming in me," she told him. "So much. Soooooomuuuuuuuch." She was half out of her mind with sexuality. Her brain spun, her body undulated. She heard chimes ringing in her head. She saw flashes of silvery light zig-zagging across the room.
Her orgasm seemed to go on forever. And when it ended, another one began. Even after his cock had gone soft, he continued rocking against her, bringing rush after rush of pleasure to her groin. She gurgled and babbled incoherently until, exhausted, she fell back limp against the mattress.
"Oh my God," she said, "will I see you again? Tell me when I'll see you again."
But the black man was silent. Climbing off her, he picked his clothes up off the floor and got into them. He dropped his gun in his pocket and picked up the leather valise. Taking something out of it, he laid it on the nightstand beside her. She stared into his eyes, wondering what he was doing.
"Where's your lipstick?" he asked her.
"On my dresser," she answered. "But why don't you untie me and we can have some more fun. This time I'll get on top of you and... "
"Shut up," he said. Taking a lipstick, from her dresser top, he stood beside her to write something with it on the wall over her bed. Then he turned and started to leave.
"Hey, wait a minute," she called after him. "Aren't you going to untie me?"
He stopped and looked back at her. "No," he said with a smile. "I think I'll let your husband do that." He closed the door behind him.
Twisting against the cloth strips which bound her, she turned to read the words he had scrawled on the wall. The letters were neat. The message was clear. "TILDEN--DON'T UNTIE YOUR WIFE UNTIL YOU LISTEN TO THE TAPE ON THE BEDSTAND" She turned to look at the object which he had left on the night table. It was a miniature tape recorder. She struggled against her bonds, but it was hopeless.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Maggie snuggled securely in her husband's powerful arms. He was with her at last She pressed her lips to his and kissed him warmly. The rough mattress buffed her naked skin.
Last night when the deputies led him out of the house at gunpoint, she feared that she would never see him again. But here he was. Safe. She didn't know what he was planning, but she trusted him completely. Now that they were together, nothing could happen. He would protect her. Even this old abandoned cabin he had brought her to felt like a fortress. With him lying at her side, there was nothing to fear.
She could hear him breathing. She could feel his heartbeat reverberating against her chest as they embraced. They had already made love three times in the couple of hours since he came back. But her body still itched for him.
Rubbing herself against him like a kitten anxious to be stroked, she reached for his cock. It was soft and flexible, lying across his naked thigh like a sleeping snake. She moved her fingers slowly over its surface, thrilling to the little twitch it gave in response. Pressing her lips wetly to his skin, she kissed his throat and his chest.
He felt so big and muscular. It excited her just to touch him. Her moist lips caressed his brown nipple, nibbling lovingly at it. Her tongue swept out to glide across it. She loved tasting his dark manly body. She loved being with him. It, made her feel safe and protected.
She wouldn't have blamed him if he hated her after seeing her shameless excitement at the hands of the sheriff and his men. But Jack understood. He kissed her tenderly in all the places which Tilden had abused. He stroked and petted her, and told her of his love.
It would have been easy to lie there forever, reveling in his gentleness and sympathy. But there was something he had a right to know. And the longer she put it off the harder it would be. She had to tell him about her and Petey. She had to tell him now. Even if it meant taking the chance of losing him.
She kissed him again, trying to find the words. Trying to find a way to begin. Her fingers remained in contact with his cock. Her hand moved idly up and down. She could feel the heated blood of arousal pounding through his prick. It made her cunt begin to warm all over again. Her arms were tight around his neck.
"Jack," she said softly. "You were away for a long time."
"Mmmmmmm," he sighed. He was playing with her titties, rolling the nipples in his fingers. "Got a lot to make up for." He buried his face in the softness of her bosom.
She could feel him pressing his loins against her, jabbing at her nudity with the semi-stiffness of his cock. She pulled it up and down, unable to resist the desire which billowed inside her. The lips of her cunt were parted in anticipation. This was getting more difficult every second. "Brady, Luke, and Sammy weren't the only ones," she blurted suddenly.
His whole body seemed to stiffen. Then he let his breath out very slowly. "I was no angel either," he said at last.
But she had to go on. Her fingers tightened involuntarily around the shaft of his penis. "No," she said hastily. "Not just that. I mean... " She just couldn't say it. "It was Petey," she whispered finally, in a voice almost too soft to be heard.
She felt his prick jump in her hand. "Your brother?" he asked, incredulous. His cock seemed to be getting harder. "Your twelve year old brother?"
She started to cry. "There's no way to explain it," she whimpered. "It just happened."
"More than once?" he asked. His breathing was becoming labored, and there was a faint note of excitement in his voice.
"Yes, more than once."
His cock was thick and stone hard. She could feel its heat against her fingers. Her rolled his hips to rub it against her. Then he whispered, "tell me about it." His lips brushed lightly over her ear.
Maggie's whole body was wrapped in a sudden sensuous chill. He wanted details. It was turning him on. She could feel the desire of his manhood coursing through his swollen prick. She could sense the renewed urgency of his need. It made her pussy tingle.
The thought of describing her incestuous experiences to him filled her with wicked eroticism. Her body was shimmering with lust. She rolled her fingertips over the head of his dick as his hand cupped the mound of her cunt. They lay side by side touching each others genitals. Her shame and embarrassment were fading. "The first time," she whispered, "I caught him jerking off." Jack exhaled sibilantly. Rubbing his scrotum lightly with the tips of her fingers she continued. It was getting easier.
"His little cock was so hard," she said. The memory was stimulating her. Her cunt felt Jack's fingers slipping inside it and she threw her pelvis up at him. For a moment she was silent as he probed and tickled her twat.
"I made him touch me," she murmured, speaking from the reverie itself. "His hands on my tits nearly drove me crazy." She stopped to place one of her husband's hands on her breast, writhing restlessly, as he fondled it. "He put his fingers in my cunt, just like you're doing."
Jack's breath was coming in a long wheezing rasp. His fingers scissored wildly inside of her. She could feel her juices bathing them. She could feel his knuckle grazing over her clit.
"He touched my clit as though he had been doing it for years. He really got me turned on."
Jack was moaning aloud now, the sounds muffled by her tit in his mouth. As she stroked his loins, his hips bucked erratically. She had never seen him this excited. She wanted to tell him more. She wanted to tell him everything.
"I was so worked up I nearly came in his hand," she whispered. "And he nearly popped his load all over my fingers." Jack's penis was throbbing. The hefty feel of it in her hand made her whine with passionate sex-hunger. But the vicarious thrill of her description kept her talking into his ear.
"Finally, I told him to fuck me," she announced.
"Hhhhmmmmmmm," Jack keened. His ass was moving frantically, working his brown prick up and down in her grasp. How did it feel?" he asked.
"His cock was short and thin, but I felt it sliding in," she explained. "Like a finger.
"Like this?" he asked breathlessly. He slipped one of his fingers into her slot and moved it in and out in the desperate rhythmless stroke of an inexperienced lover.
"Ooooooohhhh yeesss," she hissed. "Like that Just like that." She felt his finger sliding in only as far as the second knuckle. Then it pulled out again. Her cuntlips lapped and clutched at it, enfolding it in a moist and lustful caress. Her clit was erect and pulsing.
Jack's cock jumped about her fingers. She knew that it was getting ready to spit. She wanted to feel the gism striking her. She wanted to feel its heated viscosity on her skin. Jerking it with a manual fucking motion, she aimed its tip at the whiteness of her belly. It was already beginning to spasm.
When he came, she whispered wheezingly, "I thought it would never stop flowing."
Her words drove him over the brink. "Unh!" he grunted as the first whirling bug flew from his prick. "Oh, yeah!"
She felt it wetting her belly and filling the crater of her navel. Although he had already come inside her several times, the semen gushed from his cock in a seemingly endless torrent of fire. Hearing about her and Petey had refilled him with vitality. She couldn't wait to tell him about the other things they had done. But she was finding it harder and harder to speak. It was all she could do to breathe.
The words wouldn't form. She was climbing up the sheer wall of preclimax. She was going to boil over. And second. Any instant. Now.
She wailed as her pussy started to flow, wetting his diddling fingers with its juice. At the sound of her passion, he rammed four fingers into her, their tips coming together to make a bluntly tapering cone. She gasped and sobbed, fighting for oxygen. She had reached a new peak, climbed to a height which she had never before attained. It was glorious. It was magnificent.
When it was over, she felt truly fulfilled for the first time in months. She lay with her husband, holding him close to her. When he kissed her, she met his eyes with her own.
They were shining with the afterglow of sexual excitement. Her confession hadn't damaged their relationship as she feared it might. Instead, it had strengthened it. They found a new way to unite on the sexual plane of togetherness. They found a new way to share pleasure with each other. She found herself wondering about the things he had done while away. I was no angel either, he had said. Her cunt tingled at the thought.
Suddenly there was a noise outside the cabin, and she started with alarm. "What's that?" she whispered.
Jack was already on his feet, his eye peering out through a corner of the window. "It's Petey," he said. "I sent him on an errand."
"Should I get dressed?" Maggie asked him shyly.
"What for?" Jack answered with a lustful smile.
When Petey knocked twice and entered the cabin, he seemed embarrassed by the nudity of his sister and her husband. But his face maintained a serious expression. Turning from Maggie, he looked at Jack and said, "I called Tilden like you said. Told him you had kicked my ass and I was getting even. He promised he'd give me a couple of hours to get away."
Jack laughed. "That's just what I figured the lying bastard would say. He'll probably be here any minute. Now here's what I want you to do."
Maggie was baffled. "Sheriff Tilden?" she echoed. "Coming here? Why?"
Jack's face was sober. "So I can kill him," he said. "And Luke and Sammy with him. Now here's what I want you to do."
Kill him. Maggie was shocked. They would all go to prison forever. Then she thought of the things Tilden had done to her, and she listened carefully to her husband's plan. It would be worth it. No matter what happened.
* * *
When Maggie heard the sound of tires approaching, she and Petey were already lying together on the floor. Both of them were naked. She reached over to give her young brother's penis a loving squeeze. "Don't forget," she said bravely. "We're not supposed to know that they're there. Just give Jack a chance to sneak up behind them."
She rolled over and buried her face in the youngster's almost hairless groin. His little cock grew stiff and rigid at once. She saw its red head shining as it reached for her lips. Stroking her tongue over it, she lowered her pussy to his mouth.
She felt his warm breath against its puckering lips. Then he kissed it. She sighed as his lips made brushing contact with her sensitive tissues. It felt wonderful. Almost good enough to make her forget that there were three brutal vicious men somewhere outside the cabin. Fervently she prayed that Jack was correct--that they would be drawn to the window like moths to a flame. That they would stop to watch the obscene and incestuous spectacle before coming through the door. Because that was the delay that Jack was counting on.
She fought desperately to restrain the urge to look up. She struggled to devote all her attention to the manly little cock which filled her mouth with the taste of adolescent sap. It wasn't hard to do.
Her lips closed around it, bathing its shaft with her heated saliva. Her tongue swept over its surface. Through slitted eyes, she saw his scrotum wrinkle and pull up into his body. He moaned, his vibrating lips teasing her vulva.
She strained for a sound that would tell her that they were here. Maybe. Maybe that was a voice. She couldn't be sure. All it sounded like was a buzz.
* * *
Outside the cabin, Sheriff Tilden spoke to his deputies in a tense and quiet whisper. "Stay put," he said. "While I have a look in that window." He crept up to it and peered inside. Then, his face twisting in to an obscene grin, he called, "Luke, come and take a look at this. Sammy, you'd better watch them bushes." His voice was almost too soft to be heard.
Luke crawled over beside him and peeked in, whistling silently at the lewd sight that he saw. "Now don't that beat all," he murmured.
"What do you see?" Sammy asked hoarsely.
"Shhhh," Tilden said. "Just keep a lookout. I'll give you your chance. In a minute."
"Wonder where the nigger is," Luke mused. "Don't imagine they'd be doing that if he was around."
"Never know with them perverts," Tilden answered. His hand was rubbing the lump in his pants made by his stiffening prick.
* * *
Petey had his lips around the delicate bud of her clitoris and was sucking it with noisy delight. Neither of them was thinking about the window now. She threw her loins back and forth against him, wetting his entire face with the lubed up lips of her snatch. Now and then he thrust his tongue into her cunthole, penetrating her with its muscular softness.
She bit on his cock, bringing a moan of pleasure mixed with pain from his lips. She raked his prick skin with her nails. His body was beating a wild tattoo against the mattress, rising and falling to drive his penis deeper into her mouth. She could feel the smooth skin of his pubis bumping her lips. She could smell the youthful scent of arousal coming from his nuts.
Her hips rocked up to spread the lips of her cunt as she tilted it back toward Petey's lips. His tongue plunged in and out of it, his mouth nibbling lightly on the nub of her love button. She slammed her pussy down against him, burying his nose in the wetness of her slash, imprisoning his tongue between the cloying lips of her cunt.
Their love sounds were getting louder in a way that could never have been faked. She was shouting with lust as his tongue skewered in her pussy. He was sobbing with pleasure as his cock penetrated her mouth. They were approaching the point of no return. If the fish had been baited, this would set the hook.
* * *
Jack stood in the shadow of a sycamore tree, his muscles tense as he poised for violent action. In the silence of the night he could hear the sounds of his wife's excitement. If they were following his instructions, she had Petey's cock in her mouth. The boy was probably licking her cunt. The thought of it gave the dark-skinned man an instant hardon.
But he never took his eyes from the front of the cabin. Luke and Tilden were still crouched at the window peering lecherously at the sixty-nining pair inside. Only Sammy stood between them and certain death.
"Hot damn," Luke said, his voice growing loud with excitement. "Looks like the kid's going to cum in her mouth."
"Shut up," Tilden answered, his glazed eyes glued to the window.
Sammy shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other and looked surreptitiously around. "Shit," he muttered. "Don't see why I have to miss all the fun." Turning quickly, he joined the others at the window. They were too enrapt to notice.
That was what Jack had been waiting for. As silent as a cat, he sprang from his position. In an instant, he was within striking range of the lawmen. His fingers curling into hammer-like karate fists, he swung violently, using both arms. Before they knew what hit them, the three cops were unconscious on the ground.
He stood silent for a moment, watching his wife and her brother writhing hotly in the throes of mutual orgasm. By the time he dragged the unconscious bodies inside, Petey and Maggie were up and dressed. Petey watched in fascination as he set the plastique firebomb.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Maggie gazed over the cruise ship's rail at the magnificent sunset. Jack stood beside her with his arm around her waist. It was all too good to be true.
For a moment her mind flashed back to the sheet of flame which she had seen engulfing the cabin and consuming the bodies of the three lawmen who had tormented her. She felt no remorse. Whatever they got, they deserved. But she would never really understand how Jack had been able to walk away from it without fear of legal hassles. "The Agency has a little pull," was all he would say.
It was the Agency too which had arranged for their passage on the luxury liner. And it was the Agency which had a new home waiting for them in Africa. It was all so exciting.
Sensing where her thoughts had strayed, Jack turned to kiss her and smiled. "You're going to love it in Africa," he promised.
"Will you be home with me all the time?" she asked hopefully.
"Not all the time," he answered with a twinkle in his eye. "But lots more of it." Then he grinned and added, "Besides, when I'm not home, you'll have Petey to take care of you. And you can tell me all about it when I get back."
Standing next to him, the youngster's face beamed with lust. It sounded like he was going to like Africa too.
