Charity walked home in the midst of a group of chattering, giggling girls of her acquaintance; her head was in the clouds, and she was in contact with reality only intermittently as she talked excitedly with them hardly believing that it was true.
She had stayed after school for the auditions for the annual school musical production. Her singing and acting had been outstanding, and she had been selected to sing the leading female role. She couldn't believe her ears when the final announcement had been made just a few minutes before as she sat in the auditorium surrounded by several of the other girls who were trying out for parts. There had been screams of excitement and general confusion after the announcements. Needless to say, she was elated. Getting the leading role in the musical was one of the things she had dreamed about, but she had worked, too. She had worked hard at her music and dramatics. It was the hard work that had paid off for her.
The drama teacher had talked with her, briefly, after the auditions, questioning her concerning her plans for further education and suggesting that she consider applying for various scholarships.
"They've an excellent Drama Department at Redfern College, and I'd be willing to recommend you… Charity," he told her.
"My folks don't have much money… It'd be…" she began.
"Scholarships go begging every year… I'll help you get started, and the earlier the better!" She was still walking on air after her talk with the drama coach, her mind filled, now, with impossible dreams.
One sad note entered her thoughts. She hoped and prayed that this year her parents would attend the musical production. The year before, as a high school junior, she had sung an important supporting role in the musical. She had been happy and elated with her accomplishment, and had looked forward to the night when her parents would be in the audience. On the night of the performance, however, her mother had had to go to work at the last moment to replace a waitress who had called in saying she was sick and couldn't work. Charity had been disappointed. Her mother had said, "Charity… you understand, don't you… we need the money, and my boss isn't able to get anyone else, just now."
Charity had understood with her mind. Yes, it was true they needed the money, but she needed something money couldn't buy… she needed her father and mother in that audience watching her and listening to her… she needed their moral support to complete the reason for her effort. It was not too much she was asking: three hours of her parents' time, spent in the darkened auditorium enjoying the world of make-believe she was helping to create on the stage.
Well, even if both her parents couldn't be there, her father would be, she told herself, but in this hope, she was disappointed, too. Her world had been shattered when he didn't show up. He had gotten drunk with some of his cronies, forgetting all about his daughter's great performance. An evening that should have been a high point in her life had turned sour, and she cried herself to sleep that night in her loneliness.
Charity was walking alone, now, along the avenue. She heard the roar of her brother's motorcycle as he overtook her and passed her. She flashed a smile at him, but he didn't stop. It wasn't unusual; it was only occasionally that he would stop to give her a ride home, but today, especially, she had wanted to talk to Donnie. She wanted to tell him about her having won the leading role in the musical. She had to tell him, because Mom would be at work and Dad was probably out somewhere drinking. Even if he were home, he'd probably be half-soused, she decided. Anyway, there was no talking to Dad. He talked to everybody except his family. She knew of her father's reputation as a talker; it was an embarrassment to her to know that he was one of the town drunks, a character known as Gabby Scott. His loud-mouth ways, quick temper and ready fists had landed him in jail for short stretches on more than one occasion. And Mom…? She wouldn't be able to see her until morning… that is if she hadn't had to work overtime and was sleeping later than usual.
She let herself into the house. Donnie's cycle was parked in the drive, but he was nowhere to be seen. She was surprised not to find him in the kitchen gobbling down a snack. Her father, also, was apparently not at home. She headed for her own room, but on impulse, she went on through the kitchen to the back porch and knocked, softly, on his bedroom door.
"Donnie…?" she called.
"Yeah…" His voice a croak.
"I wanted to tell you something…"
"Flake off!" he grunted.
"I got the lead… in the musical… And…" she faltered, feeling his rebuff.
"Big deal!"
She recognized, then, that something was wrong. "Are you all right… Donnie…?" she queried.
"Get the hell out of here!" he roared. "Get off my back… just get the hell off my back… damn you!"
Charity turned from his door, not understanding, a tear welling into each eye to run down her cheeks, and went into her own room. Dear God what's happening to us… to our family?
For the second time, the thought worked to the surface of her conscious mind. I'd be better off… if. I didn't live here! I feel like I could run away… maybe run away with Donnie! He said he felt the same way… and was going to do it pretty soon. I wonder if… he'd take me with him…? We could go on the street together… and help each other… and look out for each other. It would be just the two of us… the two of us… against the world…!
She realized that something must be bothering her brother. He was sometimes moody and treated her badly, but he always came around. Later, he would rap with her about the musical and tell her how glad he was that she had gotten the part.
Don, meanwhile, lay flat on his back, on his narrow bed, smoked a cigarette and tried to find some answers for himself. His body hurt, horribly, from the blows he had received at the hands – and feet – of Jack Roberts and his two hangers-on.
Right after he had let himself in the house, he had gone, immediately, to the drawer in his parents' bedroom where his mother kept her extra cash, took a twenty dollar bill, put it in his wallet and went directly to his room. He felt a qualm of conscience, knowing that what he was doing was wrong… but rationalizing with himself that he could not do differently. He had to have the money! It was expedient to take it from his mother's cache. He had a passing thought concerning the possibility of trying to return it, later, but he knew that would not be possible… at least, not right away; especially, after she had discovered its disappearance. He had already decided to take it… and he would lie, if necessary, after his mother discovered its loss. God! He was in a real bind! They'll cut me up… sure as hell… if I don't pay up!
Then, he had stripped himself naked, in the privacy of his room, to examine his injuries. There was no blood, no broken bones, but the bruises were already evident. He would be awfully sore and stiff. In a little while, he would go take a hot, soaking bath to allay some of the soreness.
Damn! It's muscle and organization! That's what Jack's got! And there's no fighting it alone! Christ! Three to one! I didn't have a fucking chance!
His mind raced. His thoughts dealt with revenge, planning how he would even the score with competition, trying to think of ways to hurt Jack Roberts, fighting fire with fire, as it were. He couldn't settle anything, but he knew that Don Scott had been made a fool of… for the last time. He was going to play it smart and cool… never allow himself to get into any kind of bind at all, and he would do all and more that Jack Roberts was doing. When the time came, he would take care of Jack… and Marcy! Just use my head from now on! Brains! Muscle! Organization! That's for me, man! Yeah!
He put on a bathrobe and went into the bathroom. There was only the one connecting bath in the house, making it necessary to go through one or the other of the bedrooms. He chose to go through Charity's room, thinking he might get to see her nude body, again.
Not knocking at her door, he went in. She was just taking off her bra, the only garment she wore, and just before she turned her back on him, clutching at herself to cover her nakedness, gasping out a frightened, "Donnie!", he saw her in all her luscious, young beauty: the mounding swell of her breasts, high and proud, her smooth, white thighs, her full, soft, rounded buttocks and the curling reddish hair at the vee of her thighs. "Sorry, Sis!" he mumbled, not at all sorry, but happy with what he had seen.
"Ugh! How many times do I have to tell you to knock!" she stormed, angrily, as he went on into the bathroom.
Turning back to her, as he closed the door, he said, "Don't get shook, Charity… I've seen naked women before!"
He closed the door quickly; she had just hurled a shoe at him, with another snort of irritation. Inside, the bathroom he took off his robe to reveal an almost instantaneous erection, spearing out from his loins, thick and hard. He reached down to massage and caress it with a hand. Christ! She's beautiful! Man… how I'd like to get it into her… if she just wasn't my sister!
Charity was irritated with her brother for his frank appraisal of her body. It seemed he had "accidentally" been seeing an awful lot of her nakedness, lately. She was embarrassed by his lustful stare, each time he had walked in on her like this. He looks at me… like he does at those pictures in the books and magazines he reads!
She remembered how her cheeks had flushed when he had shown her a particularly suggestive picture of a couple in lewd copulation. "Donnie! That's not very nice!"
"Get with it, Sis!" he had told her. "Sex is here to stay!"
Then she remembered what he had just said. "I've seen naked women before!" He hadn't said girls… he said women! Donnie considers me a woman!
She looked at herself in the mirror, tipping it and standing tall to see as much of herself as she could. What she saw, she liked, for the first time. Yes! He's right! I'm really a woman… almost a full-grown woman!
Something he overheard from the man next to him caused him to prick up his ears and listen more closely. The man had asked about a woman… a woman named Dottie!
"Yeah… I got a real good lay with her a couple of days ago, when I was through here… thought I'd look her up, again!"
"Sorry, buddy… I can't help you…" the bartender said.
"Name's Dottie Scott… good looking… damn good legs… and she really knows how to wriggle her ass! Hell! It cost me twenty bucks for less than an hour with her!"
The bartender looked aghast at him, then cast a surreptitious glance at Gabby Scott. Good Christ! Gabby's wife! "Look, buddy! I think you'd better drop it… just a word to the wise!"
Scott was off his chair, his fists swinging in short, punishing arcs, and the salesman was on the floor, in seconds. Gabby's drinking buddy grabbed him to keep him from changing the man's sex as he aimed a deadly kick at the salesman's groin. The bartender called the police, and Gabby was arrested and booked on a disturbance of the peace charge. The salesman was pretty badly shaken up. He told the arresting officer that he was thinking of preferring a charge of assault, against his attacker.
"Damned if I know what got into him!" he told the bartender.
"Dottie Scott is his wife!" he told the salesman, levelly. "Now, get the hell out of here!"
"It's a fact… What I said."
"Maybe Gabby'll want to sue for slander… now, just leave my bar, fella…! I don't like your kind of business!" the bartender said. He was exasperated. Trouble like this was bad for business… and he could care less how many guys Dottie laid. It was none of his business… up to the time it began to affect the patronage of his bar. Then, he didn't want any more to do with it. The stupid ass could take his problems some other place!
The salesman slapped a bill on the bar and growled. "Mighty friendly place you got here!" His voice dripped with sarcasm. He left the bar and went back to his motel to take care of his cuts and bruises. Damn! That was a coincidence! Who'd ever think the broad's husband'd be sitting right next to me? Well, he'll be in jail for a few days! Then, the idea hit him! He's in jail! Obvious!
"Dottie… I'm being booked… down here at the jail," he said… "can you go bail for me…?"
"What happened? Why were you arrested?" she worried.
"I hit a guy… in a bar! I was under the influence…"
"Whatever for…"
"You and me'll talk about that, later!" he said grimly; then, more placatingly, "… But, I don't want to spend the night in jail! Can you get me out?"
"Gabe… I can't! We're short-handed here… and if I walked out… I'd get fired sure!" she explained. "I'll come down first thing tomorrow morning… all right…?"
"Hell no… it ain't all right… but if that's the way it is… I guess I'll have to live with it!" He growled and hung up.
She stared at the silent receiver, replacing it in its cradle, absently, trying to fathom what he meant. How could she be involved? What dark reason was there for her husband to beat up another man in a bar? Who was it? Why? WHY? There were no answers coming her way, and there was a customer signaling for her. She moved out to the floor, going about her work in a daze. Dear God… what's happened? I wish I knew! Oh, how I wish I knew!
About ten o'clock, the traveling man came into the cocktail lounge. Dottie recognized him, at once, but there was no way she could avoid him; she had to take his order, serve him his drink… and talk to him, if she had to do so. The owner wanted happy, satisfied customers. It was that simple, and since he had chosen to sit alone in one of the booths rather than at the bar, she went, reluctantly, to take his order.
"Hello, Dottie…" he leered in a sarcastic tone of voice, "I'll have Scotch on the rocks."
She hurried away to fill his order, not wanting to talk to him. He was slow with the money when she brought his drink. His question was direct, however. "How about a little party, tonight?"
Her smile was dazzling, artificial, "I'm all tied up," she lied, "for the rest of the night! Maybe… some other time."
Crestfallen, for a moment, he brightened with, "All right… some other time, then. You know I made a swing back down here, on purpose… just to see you, again…"
"I'm flattered… If you'll excuse me… My customers…" she said, grateful that there really was a customer trying to get her attention.
The salesman finished his drink and left the lounge, after a few minutes. Dottie breathed a sigh of relief as she watched him go. She had no intention of having anything to do with that man again. He repulsed her.
Dottie fielded a couple of other pick-up proposals, turning them down flat. She was worried about Gabe, and she would have to arise earlier in the morning, in order to get downtown, to arrange bail for her husband. She was in no mood for anything involving sex.
Finishing her shift at the usual time, around 10:30, she hurried to her car and drove home. For some reason, she felt apprehensive, and she laid it to her worry over her husband, Gabe; additionally, she couldn't get rid of the threat, the darkly veiled subject Gabe had hinted at in his telephone call to her, a subject that, somehow, concerned her. She had still not been able to fathom what it was.
She parked her car in the driveway, noting that Donnie's motorcycle was not there. The boy was still out, somewhere, but it was nearing the time when he should be coming home. She would have to speak to him, again, about his late hours. It had been past one in the morning, the last time he was so terribly late. That boy is starting to run wild…! But he's a good boy… Donnie always has been good… but lately, he seems to be getting more and more independent… and rebellious!
The front door lock was stubborn, and she jiggled the key around, trying several times before it finally opened. As the door swung open and she took a step inside, a dark figure lurking in the shadows of the porch came up behind her, gave her a push, stepped inside and closed the door. It was a man. Fear pounded into her, as she stumbled across the floor from the impetus of his shove. She wanted to scream. She opened her mouth, but she was seized from behind, her arms pinioned, a hand clapped over her mouth. There was a raspy, low voice in her ear, "Take it easy… Dottie! Don't scream. Don't make a sound… I don't want to hurt you!" It was the salesman from the bar. "Understand?"
Dottie nodded her head in the affirmative. She wouldn't scream, now; at least, she knew who it was. He was not a complete stranger to her. After all, she had bedded him once, already. No! He was not a stranger, yet she knew, instinctively, that she should not trust him. He removed his hand from her mouth.
"Wh-What are y-you doing h-here?" she demanded, peering him in the dim glow of the night light in her living room.
"I knew you lied!" he accused. "There's nobody else… Tonight!"
"Th-That's right! And this is my home you've come busting into!" she hissed, aware that Charity was sleeping only a few paces away, in her bedroom.
"And we're going to have that little party!" he leered. "Right here!"
"No! No, w-we're not! I'm g-going to s-scream… call the p-police… a-and have you arrested f-for b-breaking in h-here… and t-trying t-to molest m-me!"
He laughed a hard, brittle laugh. "Like hell! I'll tell them you invited me… promised me a piece of ass… for a price!"
"Y-You w-wouldn't dare…?"
"Wouldn't I?" He was confident. "This town's got laws against prostitution… hasn't it? What is it… thirty days?"
She sat down, heavily, resignedly, and looked up at him. "Yes… a-and a f-fine… I think…"
"You've never been run-in, then… there's always a first time."
"No… I-I've been careful… my h-husband doesn't su-suspect…" she faltered.
"He knows now! That's why he's in the lock-up!" The salesman fingered the bruise on his jaw.
"H-How…?"
"I was asking about you. He over heard me… and started beating me up!"
"Oh! No!?"
"That's the way it was!" he gloated. "Now, he's in jail… and you and I are alone…"
"And y-you expect m-me t-to…?"
"You're going to get fucked… but good!"
She panicked for a moment. "N-Not h-here! Th-This's my h-home…!"
"What difference does that make?"
"M-My d-daughter… she's asleep…"
"Don't worry about it… It's you I want!"
Dottie thought fast. She could demand a higher fee, discourage him, perhaps, in his pursuit of her. "I-It'll cost y-you f-fifty dollars!" she said with some firmness.
"I'll pay you!" he snarled. "But, I'll pay you exactly what you're worth, bitch!" He took out his wallet, removed a twenty dollar bill and thrust it at her. "In advance!"
She made no move to take it from him. At that point, the money really made little difference to her. Her naming a fifty dollar fee was only a ply. It was useless, she decided. The salesman seemed to hold the high cards.
"Take it, God damn you… or are you trying to make out you're too good for me?"
She spat at him, the sputum spattering his jacket. His reaction was swift. He slapped her on the side of the face, his palm smacking loudly in the still house. She looked up at him, her hand going to her face. She was dry-eyed. She would not cry for him.
"All right… y-you bastard!" she said, tonelessly. "Y-You win! D-Don't h-hit m-me, again…"
It had ever been thus: her fear of pain subjugated her. One slap and she caved in, the fight gone from her. Gabe knew it… and used it, when he wanted to subdue her, bend her to his will, and this man had accidentally found her weakness. She would do his bidding, now, for she was a physical coward. It bothered her, but she could do nothing for herself in the face of physical violence, except to submit to the will of the one who perpetrated it upon her. Dear God! P-Please…? I-I don't w-want to be h-hurt…
She cringed away from him, trying to make herself small and insignificant, burrowing into the cushions of the couch. He came to her, put an arm around her and led her, unresisting into her bedroom. She sat down, numbly, on the side of the bed while he found a bedside lamp and turned it on, then went to her dresser and put the twenty dollar bill he still carried in his hand on the top of it.
He turned to her, noting that she had made no move to undress. "Get naked, bitch!" he ordered.
"N-Not here…" she murmured. "M-My d-daughter…"
"To hell with the brat! I'm going to fuck you right here… in your own husband's bed!" He advanced upon her, his eyes twin spots of pure lust. "So… let's get your God-damned clothes off!" A hand darted out, grasping the front of her blouse and ripping downward, buttons and material giving way under his brutal onslaught.
Dismayed, she looked down at her ruined garment, tears welling into her eyes. "All right," she said, resignedly, "but, please… don't ruin anything else for me…" She began to undress, almost mechanically, her feeling of unreality strong in her, sure that she was dreaming this scene and hoping that it would go away. She felt completely trapped. There was no way, now, she could avoid going through with the sex act with this man. He dominated her at every turn.
She glanced up at him. He was undressing, too, and already he was down to his shorts, socks and undershirt. The obscene bulge of his erection beat against the cloth of his shorts. She looked away. Dear God!
He dropped his shorts and peeled them from him, his short, thick penis was freed, and she glanced back to see that it jutted out from his hairy loins almost horizontally. Both his hands reached down to grasp and heft his genitalia, lifting testicles and hardened rod together as he fondled and massaged it. Then, he took hold of the thickened flesh and skinned back the foreskin, the smooth, red, bulbous cock-head sliding forth like some primeval, reptilian monster.
"I was a little too drunk to really enjoy our little party the other night," he said. "Tonight's going to be different… I've got some plans for you!"
Dottie ignored him. She continued to undress at the slow pace she had set for herself.
The salesman was impatient. He came to her, unhooked her bra, removed it and flung it across the room, his hands moving, greedily, to the soft, full, female mounds, to fondle and squeeze. Pushing her back on the bed, he undid her garter belt and stripped it and her stockings from her to follow in the same general direction of her bra. Now, only her panties remained. They came off over the swell of her thighs in one swift movement. She was completely naked. His eyes feasted on the loveliness of her, concentrating on the dark, reddish hair of her pubic triangle, the curving contours of her hips, tapering thighs and the reverse, smoothly blending calves, delicate ankles and long, narrow feet.
Damn! She's a luscious piece! She must be 36, maybe 37 years old… but she looks like a young bitch of 25 or 26!
She shifted her body on the bed until she was lying straight; positioning herself in the middle of it she deliberately spread her legs wide and said, "O.K., if y-you want t-to f-fuck… let's fuck!"
"Oh, no, you don't!" he fumed. "That's what my wife does… just lays there, waiting for me to cum, so she can roll over and go to sleep! She's got about as much life as a frozen piece of liver… and I get just about that much out of it! Christ! It'd be more fun to jerk it off!"
He grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her around toward him, to the side of the bed, until her soft, rounded buttocks were resting on the edge of the bed, her long, tapering legs dangling down to the rug on the floor. As he positioned her, he went on, "She never lets me suck her cunt… or lick her little clit… and she refuses to suck my cock! Shit! She wouldn't even say fuck… until I made her say it!"
"Why tell m-me your wife's problems…?"
"Because… Tonight… I'm going to do anything I want to!" he leered. "All the things I've ever wanted to do to her!"
Kneeling down in front of her, he reached out and separated her perfectly sculpted thighs and brought his face down to her warm, softly pulsating female slit. He inhaled deeply of her clean femininity, as his mouth searched for and found the soft, coral furrow that was hidden by the curling strands of her pubic hair. He pushed his tongue into the smooth-fleshed warmth between her open thighs and licked, parting the soft resilient pussy hair with his broad, moist lingual member, savoring the pungent female taste and reveling in the sensations created in him as his tongue gained contact with the quivering, pulsating little clitoris hidden in the soft, fleshy vaginal lips at the top of her loins.
Dottie quivered and jerked, and she felt the firm warm helpless glow spreading in her, infusing her loins and belly with the knowledge of sexual reaction. She could feel the instant erection of her miniature phallus as it hardened and pushed out to meet his probing tongue. She hadn't wanted to respond to this man. Since she was committed to a sexual encounter with him, against her will, she had hoped that it would be fast, that she could remain uninvolved… and get rid of him, once and for all. God! How had it happened? How had she gotten trapped into this? The last thing she had ever wanted was to bring a strange man into her own home. She had kept everything compartmented, and she had felt that the woman who entertained men, the prostitute, was a different woman from the wife and mother. Now, the compartmentation of her life had been destroyed, as she lay on her own marital bed and, reluctantly, allowed this vile creature to do as he would with her. P-Please, God… don't ever let my children find out! With Gabe, she had decided, it would be a different matter. They would work it out, but the real fear, flow, in the back of her mind, lay with the possibility of discovery by her children… especially Charity! Then, she moaned, forgetting her random thoughts of family. It was uncontrollable. The slashing sexual sensations were there, working in her, against her will, her arousal almost complete.
The man's tongue flicked steadily at the inner valleys of her moist, excitedly flowering cunt, his lips nibbling at the sensitive coral lips, sucking them to turgid stiffness, until his darting tongue began to move in and out of her smooth, wet vaginal passage, pausing to tease around its open mouth in tiny, excruciatingly maddening circles; then, she moved her hips in tiny, undulating motions against him, her body begging him for more, even as her still vainly resisting mind tried to deny the pleasure of her body.
Now, the agile, ever-moving, searching mouth was over her clitoris, again, and he held the sensitive tip of it in his lips while his tongue moved on it, tantalizingly. Her pleasure grew in her, the winds of her arousal whirling around her, the vortex concentrated in her now hungry, voraciously demanding loins.
He had licked and sucked, steadily, not allowing her a moment to change her mind, and he knew that he was bringing her almost to the pinnacle of her desire.
"Oh, ooh, oooooh!" she moaned. "Oh, that's so good! Fuck me… n-now! Oh, fuck me!"
Her hands moved down, convulsively, to his head, to guide him, her desire-heated loins straining up at his face, as she moved in a sexual stupor, obeying the primal, animal urge to copulate… wanting… needing it!
Feeling the nearness of her orgasm, he stopped. He had other plans for her, and she was in exactly the state he wanted her! Damn! She's hot… really hot to trot and could probably get the hot little bitch to do anything he wanted her to now.
He lifted his head from the seething moistness between her widespread legs and looked up at her, pure lust reflected in his eyes. Looking along the length of her body, her hair-covered pubic mound at eye-level, in the middle ground of his vision the plain of her flat belly, dimpled with the crater of her navel and in the background, the twin mounds of her soft, white breasts, capped with the erectile nipples, standing tall and proud; between the mounds was the deep-clefted valley. Beyond that valley, he saw her red, lipsticked mouth, ovalling with the intensity of her pleasure.
Her mouth was his goal, now. It was the one thing he wanted most: for a woman to use her mouth on him… bring him to full orgasm… to ejaculate there, spewing his hot sperm into her mouth and throat. It was the thing denied him… the one act he wanted because it was denied. Christ! He could almost feel it now… that luscious mouth on him, sucking him. He had controlled the urge to mount her… jackhammer his cock into her cunt until he came. It would have been easy to do… but he had wanted her to be ready… to do anything. And, she's ready, by God!
Again, she groaned in agony. "Fuck me, God damn it! You're only teasing me… frustrating me! I want your c-cock fucking me in the cunt! Come on! Fuck me… that's what you're here for… isn't it?"
The salesman pressured several more tongue-licks, back to front, through her sensate, moistly ready flesh, before he raised his head, again, and said, "Not yet, baby… I've got something else I want to do… first!"
"Wh-What…?"
"I'm going to fuck you in the mouth!"
Dottie was not shocked. She had performed fellatio before, sucking on a cock to ejaculation. She had done it for several of the men she had gone with, and in her estimation, it was sometimes highly desirable as a way of making a man finish quickly, earning her money to feed the children and getting rid of him right away. She hadn't learned to like it, especially, but she had no real objection to it. It was certainly less bother than vaginal intercourse.
She said, resignedly, "All right… I guess I can s-suck you off!"
"You misunderstood me!" he snapped, stand mg to his feet before her, his cock lancing out thick and hard, its shortness seeming to make it appear more massive. "I said that I'm going to fuck you in the mouth! Get up on the bed!"
Finally, she understood him. He intended to use her mouth like he would her cunt. He was not going to be a passive recipient of a sucking action; he intended to be the active one. She visualized it, his big cock moving in and out of her oral cavern in brutally punishing strokes. Dear God! He wants to degrade… humiliate me, beyond all reason!
She had not moved to lie straight in the bed, yet. Her head whirled. It was difficult to make up her mind… whether to obey him, allow him to use her in such an obscene manner… or disobey him… and take the consequences of her disobedience.
"My God… that's inhuman…!"
Crack!
He leaned over her and put the full weight of his body behind his hand, as he slapped her across the face, for the second time. Tears started, instantly, into her eyes, scalding her cheeks as the tiny rivulets cascaded down. Mindlessly, dully, she hastened to obey, her body gaining dominance over her reasoning mind. Her fear of bodily pain acting as the trigger, she knew she had lost another round in this sexual bout. She had lost; she knew it and could do nothing about it. She was helpless to defend herself.
As she gained her new position in the middle of the bed, he crawled on to it beside her. "That's more like it!" he grunted, leering down at her. "When I pay a whore… I expect her to do what I want to do… otherwise, there's going to be hell to pay!"
The salesman crawled over her naked body, straddling her face, his buttocks resting on her chest, crushing the soft, white hillocks of her breasts under his weight. He took his massive rod of hardened flesh into his hand and pressed the throbbing, rubbery head against her lips. She kept her mouth tightly closed, not yet prepared mentally to engage in such an obscene act.
"Open your mouth, baby," he threatened, "or do you want another one across the face?"
"God, n-no…!"
When she opened her mouth to speak, he pushed the tip of his hardened cock past her opening lips, into the damp, warm cavern of her mouth. Her tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked, as she realized she would have to do as he bade her.
There was nothing else for Dottie to do, now, but submit to his wishes. Automatically, she ovaled her mouth wide for him, cushioning her teeth with lips drawn over them, as he pushed into her oral opening a few more inches. She used her tongue to lave the length of it in her mouth, swirling it around the smooth, rubbery head.
"You can go ahead and suck like that… if you want to, but I'm going to do the work, baby! I'm going to ram my cock down that sweet little mouth of yours… fuck your mouth like a hot sucking cunt!"
He withdrew his prick until just the head remained in her mouth. "Now, keep your lips just like that… tight, but not too tight!" he commanded, leering gleefully down at her shamefully contorted face.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she obeyed him, keeping her mouth ovaled and steady, as he began to move in and out of her mouth with long, powerful strokes, his cock feeling like a log sliding in and out of her throat. Her jaws began to ache with the effort, as his huge thickness ground down into her face. God! He's so thick… and huge! It feels like he'll break my jaw!
She closed her eyes, hoping that she would be able to blot out the obscene spectacle of her own debasement… the ultimate humiliation of having a strange man have his way with her helpless body in her own husband's bed…
Then, perhaps because of her very helplessness, she suddenly and unexplainably, began to feel a rearousal of her own sexual needs, the arcing sensations in the nerves of her loins signaling a coming rapturous ecstasy. She couldn't understand it. The brutal thrusts of his cock into her mouth was somehow erotic, perhaps a masochistic eroticism, an unconscious desire to be debased and punished for being the whore she was. She didn't know, of course, it was the sensations that were real in her; sensations that told her she was going to soar to a climax. How, she didn't know, but the pinnacle of her passion was there just ahead… and she would reach for it! The pleasure in her seething, voraciously, needful loins was building… building, and she flayed her legs ineffectually out to the sides of the bed, then brought them together again to rub her tingling thighs together.
She opened her eyes. The obscene spectacle was still there. The man's prick moved in and out of her mouth, disappearing past her tongue, into her throat, the hairiness of his loins tickling her nose as he plunged into her. She could see the slight paunch advancing and retreating in front of her, the muscles of his abdomen straining as his strokes became harder, deeper, spearing down into her gullet, until she was aware that she was taking all of his thick shaft inside the confines of her mouth. Now, her own arousal prompted her to move with him, countering his thrusts by bobbing her head up to meet him, and his cock went ever deeper into her mouth and throat. The sensation in her loins was driving her wild. She had to have a cock in her cunt! It was only a man's hard driving penis, she knew, now, that would make her cum!
Dottie gave in, completely, to her debasement. She sucked, hollowing her cheeks, increasing the pressure of her lips around his huge rod, and her tongue swished and swirled around him, as though she were a little girl, again, with an all-day sucker.
Above her, the salesman was lost in a wild ecstasy of his own. He was panting; now, driving for his orgasm, his ejaculate demanding release, and he increased his thrusting speed and depth. "Oh, God!" he moaned. "Just a little more… and I'll cum in that sweet little mouth of yours!"
Gagging, now, from the forceful pile-driving flesh into her throat, she fought for air, trying at the same time to move her head and suck for all she was worth. Continually, now, she mewled deep in her chest, the sounds muffled and eerie, and, uncontrollably, her thighs moved, scissoring back and forth to gain maximum stimulation of her genitals that felt neglected below. Her debasement was crowded out of her mind by the need to cum to orgasm. Oh, God! I'm so close… but I have to have a cock in my cunt! I have to have something… something!
The man, above her, slid his knees back until he was lying flat on her face. He began fucking, furiously, jerking in and out of her gaping mouth, using her desperately working lips exactly as a cunt. She gasped with the fury of his pounding prick, writhing beneath him, struggling for breath, but needing to cum herself; then, her hands moved down between her own widespread legs. Yes! Oh, God, yes! That's it! I'll cum, now!
Into the seething moistness of her voracious pussy, she thrust three fingers, jabbing them in, savagely, and finger-fucking them in and out to the established rhythm of her obscene sucking of the cock locked tightly in her mouth. God! It felt good!
Her other hand moved to her clitoris, and together, they worked there, substituting for the cock she had been denied by the perverse actions of the vile man who was fucking into her mouth so fast and furious.
His body stiffened, suddenly, and she felt his cock expand in her mouth as he shoved it in even further and stopped dead, his prick spewing his hot, white sperm into the depths of her throat. Desperately, to keep from choking she swallowed, the warm viscous liquid going down as quickly as he shot it into her.
… And, then, the climax was there for her, its magnificent convulsions overcoming her, taking her under into an undertow of terrific power, shooting her to the surface, finally, as she gasped for breath, afraid that she would drown, and she was aware that it was his cum in her mouth that had seemed to gag her, cut off her… make her feel that she was drowning.
Dottie lay under him, still swallowing desperately to keep from choking, feeling the deflation of his cock as it grew softer, more spongy in her mouth each moment, until, finally, it slipped wetly out of her lips and rested on her face. She used her hands to push him from off her, struggling to sit up, at the same time.
"Oh, baby… that was good…!" he groaned.
She made up her mind, this time, in a lightning second.
"All right… you got what you came for… you can clear out, now!" she said, firmly.
He laughed a short, hard laugh. "That's what you think! I'm staying here all night!"
Calmly, she sat up on the edge of the bed and reached into the drawer of the bedside stand. Her hand came up holding her husband's P-38. She stood to her feet and said, "Get dressed… and get the hell out of my house… or by all that's holy… I'll shoot!"
The salesman's eyes widened in sudden terror at her obviously serious threat. "Christ! D-Don't point that thing… a-at m-me!"
"Move!" she ordered, her voice, steely.
She hadn't thought she could do it, but she surprised herself, her confidence supreme, as she watched the frightened man come off the bed and begin to get dressed, hastily.
When he had finished, she motioned him out of the room, keeping the deadly pistol aimed at him, constantly. He paused at the door, cleared his throat and began, "Look… I-I…"
"Out!" she snapped.
He went out the front door, his face grim… frightened. He knew better than to argue. She held all the cards.
Locking the front door of her home, securely, she fled back to her bedroom and flung herself onto the bed, drained, completely, her emotional reaction, now, to her ordeal allowed full reign, as great sobs wracked her body and scalding tears washed over her face. She couldn't believe that it had happened. It was too bizarre… impossible.
A strange thought flitted through her mind: after all this… my first time with him in his motel… his fight with Gabe… and this… tonight… I don't even know that monster's name!
Perhaps it was just as well she didn't know his name. The name would haunt her. As it was… it would only be his face… and the memory of his lewd sex act with her that she would remember.
Oh, dear God! Charity!
She sat bolt upright, her eyes darting to the connecting bathroom door. A fleeting memory was there. The door had been closed, but when she came back into the bedroom after shooing the salesman out of her house… and out of her life, it had been ajar, slightly. God! Had Charity seen her? Had she watched through the crack in the bathroom door? Oh, God, please… don't let it be so!
… Of course, she would never know. She would never know, unless Charity indicated by word or action that she had been an observer of her unnatural actions with a strange man.
Dear God… What have I done…? What have I done?