While Alan was fucking Stella in the mountain barn his wife, Cynthia was on her way out of the house. Cynthia was a tall, willowy blonde. She was not beautiful but she had the kind of good looks that made a man want to wipe the smile off her face, with a good fuck. Cynthia was always cold to men who came on to her. She was the perfect, loving wife. She would never dream of messing around.
Cynthia knew how to appeal to men. Today she was wearing her little girl look. She had on tight stretch pants and a fluffy sweater. She had her blonde hair done in two pony tails down her back. Or puppy dog tails, as Cynthia like to call them.
Cynthia was shopping for a birthday present for her husband. She knew that Alan would be home soon and she wanted to get him something nice, something that might help him kick the mood of boredom he'd been in lately.
But that afternoon she just couldn't find anything that suited him.
Cynthia was parking her car in the driveway when she noticed Greg Patterson coming over. Cynthia disliked him. He had a wife who looked absolutely vulgar and Greg was always looking at her with a lusting smile.
The first thing Cynthia noticed was that his big breasted wife had gone off somewhere. The blue car was gone from the drive way.
"Hello honey," Greg said.
"Hello yourself," Cynthia said. "Haven't I told you my name's not honey?"
"Sure," he said, shrugging, "but sometimes I forget. I see your husband has gone off again."
"A business trip," Cynthia said.
"He goes on a lot of business trips," Greg said. "Don't you, ever get lonely?"
"Never," Cynthia replied coldly.
Cynthia was tiring of the conversation. She started walking to the house and he followed her. She wished that he would go away. There was always something about his dark looks and suggestive smiles that made her feel ill-at-ease. He was so different from Alan.
"Well?" she asked, turning at her door. "Was there anything else?"
"I thought you might offer me a beer," he said.
"I don't have any beer in the house," she said. "Now if you will excuse me."
He caught her arm and she found herself looking into his cold, stern eyes.
"You're a mighty pretty woman," he said. "It's a damn shame you're so stuck on yourself."
"You let me go," she said.
"You don't have any beer," he said. "Then offer a man a glass of water. It's awfully hot."
"You can go to your house and get water or beer or anything else," she said. "Just go away and leave me alone."
"Open the door," he said. "I'm going to have that glass of water."
He hadn't let her go and suddenly she was frightened. She didn't know what kind of a man he was, but she knew he had a temper. She'd seen his wife with the marks to prove it. A few times she had mentioned to Alan that perhaps they should call the police. Alan had always disliked the idea.
"All right," she said. "You can have the water and then you've got to go."
He only smiled. She opened the door and walked hurriedly into the kitchen. She opened the fridge quickly but not quick enough for him to miss seeing the cans of beer.
"So you didn't have any beer," he said. "Now that's no way to be."
He took the can out and popped the cap.
Cynthia couldn't believe this was happening. He had no business coming into her home and taking her husband's beer. No right at all.
"Take your beer and leave," she said.
"You know," he said, leaning against the counter. "You're not a nice person. You're not friendly enough."
"If you don't get out of here," she told him, "I'm going to call the police."
"What for?" he asked. "I will," she promised.
"You got no reason to call them," he said. She knew he was right. She would be silly calling them now. But there was something about this man that made her feel afraid.
"I have a lot of work to do," she said. "Please finish that and leave."
"You're a snotty bitch," he said. "I bet you're not so snotty when you've got six inches up your twat."
"Oh my God," Cynthia said.
She couldn't think of what else to say or do. Her legs felt frozen. He was sipping his beer as if he said thins like that to women every day. Perhaps he did. Perhaps he was some kind of sex pervert.
"I'm not going to be talked to this way," she said.
"No," he said. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I'm going to call the police," she said. She'd made up her mind. She went to the kitchen phone and picked it up. She was sure he would leave as soon as she started to dial the number. She was wrong. She'd no sooner got the phone in her hand when he suddenly gave a cry of rage and came across the room. He jerked the phone from her fingers and slapped her across the face.
He didn't hit her hard, but it was enough to spin her around. She had to clutch the table for support to keep from tumbling into the floor. She was shocked. She had never been hit before in her life. It was not something men did to a woman like her.
"Put the phone back," Greg said.
His voice was soft again, but she couldn't deny it. She picked up the phone and replaced it.
"That's better," he said, softly stroking her arm with his fingertips.
"Please," she said. "Won't you go now?"
"I just got here," he answered. "Why don't you have a beer with me?"
"I don't drink," she said.
"That's too bad," he said, laughing in an ugly sort of way. "Because I have a feeling that you're going to need a beer."
There was something terrible about the way he spoke. Something that made her blood feel cold. He kept stroking her arm until she pulled away.
"Please don't do that," she said.
"You don't like to be touched," he said.
"Not by you," she said.
"You shouldn't mind," he said. "You should relax a little. I know something that will ease the tension."
He finished his beer and crumpled it up. He pitched it into the trash can. Greg studied her cool features. He had been thinking about this woman for a long time. She was driving him crazy. His wife understood. Greg was attracted to the tall, sophisticated type. It was the type of woman he had never been able to get for himself.
He had been thinking about her so damned long. He knew he could wipe the cold look off her face. He had the thing in his trousers to do it. He could make her beg and cry for more, just the way he made his wife cry.
"I been watching you," he said.
He was grinning and Cynthia suddenly realized what was going to happen. He intended to rape her. Cynthia remembered the many courses she had taken on rape. She remembered the pictures of those girls who had fought the attacker. Some of the girls would never look the same again. Some of them were so beaten and bruised that their own husbands wouldn't have known them. Cynthia felt a little sick.
"I've been watching you," he said again.
"Why?" she asked.
"I like to look at a beautiful woman. I don't think you're happy."
"I am," she insisted.
"No," he said. "I don't think you are."
"You don't know anything about me," Cynthia insisted. Cynthia was searching her mind for a way out, but she couldn't think of any. He was a strong looking man. He could outrun and outfight her.
She couldn't scream loud enough for anyone to hear. There was only one way. Let him do what he wanted and hope he kept her alive.
"You're not happy," he said. "You don't have the look of a satisfied woman."
"I'm very satisfied," she insisted. "Look, can't we talk about this some other time. I really am very busy."
"Are you still trying to get rid of me?"
"Not really," she answered. "You can come back again. But right now I have work to do…"
"I'm not leaving," he said. "I been wondering if your husband gives you enough. You know, a woman's pussy needs to be very oiled."
"Oh God," she said.
"Wouldn't you like to have your pussy oiled by a real cock?"
She knew what she had to do. She wasn't going to make him angry. She remained very still as he walked up to her. His arms went around her waist. He pulled her close against him. She could smell his strong masculine odor. He was so different from Alan. He was a man who worked with his hands and not with his brain like her husband. He had strong muscles and they rippled beneath his thin tee shirt.
"Do you know what I'm going to do?" he asked.
"No," she answered, but she had a good idea.
"I'm going to give you a good fucking," he said.
"Oh God," she said softly.
"We can do it the hard way if you want," he said, as he felt the tension in her body. "I can make you. It might take messing up your face a little and leaving a few bruises on your body. I might have to hurt you."
"Please don't hurt me," she said. "I won't try to stop you. I won't fight."
He stroked her back through the fluffy sweater she was wearing. She was scared to death, but she meant, what she said. She didn't want to fight him. She would let him do what he wanted as long as he didn't hurt her. She was scared of pain.
"I like your attitude," he said. "You're going to be a good girl?"
"Yes," she answered.
"That's fine," he said. "Now show me your bedroom."
She swallowed nervously. She led him through the house and into the bedroom she shared with her husband. He stopped beside her and let his hand cup one of her asscheeks. He could feel the tension coming once more to her body.
"What's the matter, baby?" he asked. "Haven't you ever let anyone play with your ass before?"
"Nobody but my husband," she answered.
"That's a Goddamned waste," he said.
Greg knew he could get into a hell of a lot of trouble for what he was about to do. He had already spent time in jail for rape. That time the girl had fought him, at least for a few minutes. She had quit fighting when he'd gotten his prick into her tight little cunny. She had started begging for it then.
Just the way this one was going to beg for it.
Sure, it was a dangerous game he was playing with this pretty icy blonde. But it was worth the risk. There was nothing as exciting as getting his big pecker into an unwilling pussy. It was nice to feel the woman coming alive for the first time as she felt his thick prick. He loved to feel the tension easing out of their bodies and then the way they started getting hot. He had never fucked a frigid woman. They could never stay frigid once he got his prick in.
This pretty blonde wasn't going to be able to stay that way either. He could tell what was going through her gorgeous head. She would let him, but she couldn't enjoy it. Then she would pick the phone up and call the cops as soon as he left. Only one of his women had ever called the cops. They couldn't press charges remembering how much they had enjoyed it.
He had a feeling Cynthia was going to be one of the hottest pieces he'd ever had. He had the feeling that her husband had never been able to touch her true potential. He knew his big pole was going to bring out the savage in her.
"This is a very nice bedroom," he said.
"Thank you," Cynthia said. She felt like it was a stupid conversation, but she didn't know what else to say. She didn't know how to deal with a rapist. She didn't want to make him angry.
"How often does your husband fuck you?" he asked. "How many times?"
"I don't know," she said.
"Damn it," he said disgustedly. "Answer my questions. You know how many times you fuck. Tell me."
She had made him angry again. She had done just what she didn't want to do. She realized she was going to have to do everything he told her without argument. She was going to have to answer his questions and do what he said. Even those questions that deeply invaded her privacy.
"How many times?" he insisted.
"I guess a couple of times a week," she said.
This really wasn't true. She wondered why she was lying. She realized that lately her husband hadn't even been giving it to her twice a week. She hadn't thought about it before, but a little warning went off in her head. Perhaps her husband was starting to find her unattractive. It did seem like he wasn't as interested in her lately. He had been fucking her more on an average of twice every few weeks.
"A couple of times a week," Greg said disgustedly. "Hell, I give it to Mary more than that many times a day. Your husband must not have any balls."
"That's not true," she said.
"Then you must be a dull piece of ass," Greg said.
She blushed red. She didn't think of herself as dull but perhaps she was. She remembered Greg's wife. That dark haired woman with the huge tits who never kept herself completely covered. She seemed to always be wearing something that showed off her ample tits. More than twice a day.
She wondered if Greg was bragging and then decided he wasn't. He looked like the type of vulgar man who was always wanting sex.
"I bet I can make an interesting lay out of you," Greg said. "Your husband won't know you when he gets home. I'll make a fucking cunt out of you, all light."
"Please just get it over with," she said.
"I'm going to make you scream for joy, baby," he said. "I'm going to make a hot box out of you."
"You can make me do anything," she said, "but you can't make me enjoy it."
Seeing his face turn red Cynthia was afraid that she'd made him mad again. But this time he didn't get angry. He walked over and sat down on her bed. He smiled obscenely. She thought about running down the stairs, but she knew he'd only catch her and hurt her as he promised.
"I'll make you enjoy it," he said. "Now start taking your clothes off."
This was the moment she had feared. She tried not to think about what she was doing as she grasped the bottom of her sweater and peeled it over her head. She wore a plain white bra. There was nothing sexy about it, but a bigger grin came to Greg's face.
"They're not big," he said. "But there are women who have had less. I like them. Take the bra off."
She unclasped the hooks of her bra and shrugged it off her creamy shoulders. For the first time a man other than her husband looked at her naked tits. She'd always felt funny when Alan looked at them. She knew that a wife was suppose to show herself to her husband, but she did it as little as possible.
Now she was standing in the middle of her bedroom – feeling uncomfortably warm as she showed herself to a man who wasn't her husband. She started to hold her hands over her naked breasts but she stopped herself. What was the use? He would only make her move her hands again. There was no use in pretending that she could stop him from going any farther.
"You have a nice pair," he said. "You shouldn't be ashamed of them."
"I'm not," she said.
"Sure you are," he said, "Or why would you keep them covered up all the time? Now take off the jest of your clothes. I want to see your naked body."
There was nothing she could do. She peeled her pants off and stood shaking in nothing but her flimsy white panties.
"Take those off too," he said. "Or do you want me to take them off."
Quickly she peeled the panties down her legs. Her legs had to be the best part about her. She kept them firm and shapely and she was proud of them. He liked them. His eyes ran over her slender form and stopped at her blonde bush.
This time she couldn't stop the impulse to put her hand over her pussy. She just felt so naked. She saw the amused glint that came to his eyes as she covered herself.
"Move your hand," he said.
There was nothing she could do and she moved her hand from her bush mound. He grinned as he saw the deep red flush that came to her face.
"You sure are a shy piece of pussy," he said. "I like a shy piece of ass."
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.
"First I want you to come over here," he said.
Cynthia had never felt so naked as she walked across the room to him. She paused in front of him and listened to his deep breathing. She steeled herself for what was to come, but she still shivered when his hands cupped her tits.
"Nice and firm," Greg said. "These feel just the way like them."
He squeezed her tits roughly and ran his fingers across her nipples. Despite her determination to remain cool, she felt herself responding to his touch. She told herself that it was a natural reaction for her nipples to grow so hard. It was just a physical response and it didn't mean a thing.
"I bet you can really throw a wild fuck once you're thawed out," Greg said.
Greg knew exactly what he was doing to her. He wasn't being as rough as she had expected. He was gentle, like a lover. He knew he could be rough when the time was, right. Now he would take her body out of the deep freeze. He would go slow and he'd get her hot.
"I'm going to kiss them," Greg said.
She wanted to back away but she didn't. She felt the strange lips touching her titty-flesh. His lips felt hot and hard. He gently kissed all over the gentle swell of her tits and she felt them getting a little heavier. This couldn't be happening. She wouldn't let it happen. She thought of her husband and that helped calm her.
"So you're trying to fight it," he said, sensing her restraint. "That's all right. That only makes things better when you finally give in."
"I'll never give in," she said. "Do what you want with me but you'll never touch me."
"You keep believing that, baby," he said.
She was taken by surprise at the hand he suddenly thrust between her legs. He hurt her and she pulled away. He was smiling but she knew she had won some sort of victory by her coolness toward him. Well, he was in for a surprise if he thought he was going to get any response out of her.
He started to undress. She stood and watched as he peeled off his shirt. She'd always thought she'd be disgusted by a man who looked like Greg. His hairy chest rippled with muscular movement as he unbuckled his belt. She wanted to be disgusted. Instead she felt flushed again.
He pulled his trousers off. Then his socks and shoes. Her fascinated gaze was drawn to the bulge in his jockey shorts. She couldn't believe that the bulge in his shorts could be real. It looked too damn big.
"Yeah, it's real," Greg said, as if he could read her mind. "I'll show you how real."
"God," she said softly, as he peeled his shorts down his thick, hairy legs.
His red monster cock was huge. She had thought Alan's prick was big but this cock was nearly twice the size of Alan's. It wasn't just that it was long – it was thick and the heavy red knob looked like a club.
"Oh my goodness," she said.
"You've never seen one like this, baby," he said. "Every woman I've ever had has taken a second look."
"I think it's disgusting," she told him.
At that moment she tried to tell herself that it was disgusting. But she was only fooling herself. Already she could sense how it was going to feel sliding into her pussy, stretching her cunt walls as they'd never been stretched before.
"So it's disgusting," he said.
"Yes," she said.
"Now you've hurt my feelings. You're going to have to make that up to me."
Before she realized what was happening he had grabbed her by her shoulders and was forcing her down to her knees. She knew what he wanted although she'd never done it before. She felt her stomach chum as she stared at the red pole.
"Don't make me do this," she begged.
"You're going to have to make it up to my pecker," he said, holding her firmly on the floor between his legs. "You're going to have to make amends. Kiss it, cunt. Show it that you're sorry for calling it disgusting."
"I couldn't," she said.
"You fucking will," he said.
He took a handful of her blonde hair and he bent her head back until she could feel a strain on her neck. His eyes were ugly. She knew he would bend her head back until it snapped her neck or she agreed to do what he wanted.
"All right," she gasped.
"That's better," he said, releasing her. "Now be nice to my prick."
He put his hand gently on the back of her head and pulled her face toward him.
"Put your hand on my prick and put your lips to the top," he instructed. "Show me how much you like to suck prick."
She wrapped her fingers around his thick, sticky cock and she closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at the blood-engorged head so close to her lips. She touched her lips to the cock-head. She tasted his salty cum on the tip of her tongue. She was afraid she was going to be sick.
"Now take it in your mouth, cunt," he said. "Prove that you're really sorry."
Greg watched closely as the blonde took his prick-head in between her lips. He could tell by the sour expression on her face that she didn't like sucking cock. Well, that was no matter. She would learn to love it.
"That's the way," he said. "Now suck on it!"
Her mouth had his cock-head firmly inside and she began to suck. He instructed her to use her tongue around the sensitive crown and her tongue did as he wanted. He knew he had her beaten. She wouldn't make any more stupid comments about his prick being disgusting.
He kept stroking the back of her head as he forced a little more of his swollen pole between her ripe lips. Her hot mouth felt good. Her tongue was working a little more. He could feel the tight fire in his balls.
"That's enough," he said, pulling her head back. "You've shown my pecker how sorry you are. Now come on up here on the bed with me."
She allowed him to pull her up on the bed. She stretched out beside him as he began to touch all over her body. She'd had her husband's hands on her, but it had been different. Greg seemed to start an itching sensation in every place he touched her. And he touched everywhere. Somehow she hadn't expected this kind of treatment. A woman was supposed to be treated roughly when she was getting raped. He wasn't supposed to make her feel so strange. Suddenly Cynthia realized that she was enjoying what he was doing to her. It was a shocking thought and she immediately began to tense up again. For a moment she had lost control of herself, but it wouldn't happen again. He couldn't make it happen again.
"Go ahead," she pleaded. "Fuck me. Get it over with!"
She didn't know why she was rushing him except that she was suddenly in very much of a hurry. She didn't want him to keep touching her this way. She didn't like it. She wanted him to do it and get it over.
Cynthia knew something that always worked on her husband. She reached for his cock. She laced her hot fingers around his stem and began to jerk him off. She had a feeling that that he wouldn't be able to take much of that.
Cynthia was right, but he didn't respond as she expected. He didn't immediately roll her over and put his cock into her cunt. Instead he removed her hand from his cock.
"Don't be in such a hurry, little pussy," he said. "You're going to get it soon enough."
She felt his fiery lips at her tits again. He sucked in one of her nipples and his tongue rolled it from cheek to cheek. She felt her stomach twitching and again she tried to tense herself, to fight the feelings that were going through her.
"Goddamn it," she said. "Do it to me. Get it done."
But he wouldn't be hurried. His mouth moved from one rosy petal to the other. His lips and teeth worked at her flesh until her lust-swollen titties itched with a desire she had never known before, it wasn't fair. She was trying to be a good wife. She was trying to control herself. But Greg seemed to know so much about a woman's feelings.
"Now you're starting to like it," Greg said. "I knew you would."
His lips trailed wetly down her stomach. She knew what he was going to do but she didn't have the strength to stop him. She cried out softly as she felt his lips press gently against her venus mound. This was something she thought was disgusting. Yet, she could feel shooting fires coming from her cunt through her body as his lips began to press closet.
His tongue stabbed at her and she felt a hot shiver of delight go up her spine. Again she tried to steel herself but there was no use. Greg was doing things to her cunt that had never been done before. He was sucking the plump flesh of her cuntlips into his mouth. He was driving his tongue in between her cuntlips and deep into her pussy. He was licking and swallowing her tangy tasting juices.
"Oh, stop," she cried. "Please stop."
"Baby," he said. "You don't really want me to stop."
"Oh yes," she sobbed.
"No, baby," he said. "You're just like any other piece of pussy. You like to have it eaten. You like to have a man's tongue in your pussy."
He quit talking and started eating her again. She couldn't remember ever having such feelings before. She knew that her bottom was starting to wiggle on the bed. It was a sure sign that she was beginning to bet turned on and that he was winning. But she couldn't help herself.
"Oh God," she whispered. "Oh please stop. Oh please stop doing that."
"Yeah, baby," he said. "I'm going to stop. Right now. I'm going to fuck you!"
She knew that she had traded the frying pan for the fire. She was already hot and she knew what was going to happen when he put his prick into her. She wouldn't be able to resist the feelings.
He stretched out on top of her. His hard chest pressed her titties flat. She gasped as she felt his big prick right at the entrance to her hot hole. He began to move his hips from side to side and she felt his prick-head rubbing her groove. It didn't go in. It just rubbed back and forth over the entrance. She felt her pussy getting wetter.
"What are you doing?" she asked, gasping.
"I'm going to let you tell me when to put it in," he said. "You beg for it."
"Never," she moaned. "I'll never do that."
He slipped his hands underneath her ass and lifted her slightly. His prick was nudging at the plump, sensitive lips of her cunt. She felt herself humping up to pull his prick into her hot hole.
"I'll never beg," she moaned. "I'll never beg you. Put it in. I won't beg. Oh God, just put it in!"
She was ready to explode. She needed that big hard prick in her pussy. She needed it bad. She couldn't beg him. She told herself over and over that she couldn't beg. He would lose control first. He would lose control and slam it into her. He was a man. He couldn't last as long as a woman. He couldn't control his hungry desires as she could.
"Oh God, please," she said, hardly realizing that the words were finally being torn from between her lips. "Oh, please put it in. I need you to fuck me. Please give me your cock. I'm begging you. Goddamn, I'm begging!"
Greg had won. He laughed savagely as he felt her wiggling body beneath him. He could feel her wet slippery twat sucking at his prick as he heard her beg. He had knocked that smug look off her face. Now he would give her a fucking she would never forget. He drove his prick savagely between her legs and he gave a loud cry of victory, like a savage man taking his mate in conquest.
"Ohhh," she gasped, and her eyes popped open wide in amazement. She had never felt her cunt so full of cock-meat before. She felt like his big prick was deep in her belly, almost driving up into her mouth.
"You little cunt," he said, as he began to drive his prick in and out other cunt.
"Oh yes," she cried. "I'm a cunt. I'm a cunt."
She had lost all her inhibitions as his big cock filled her pussy. She loved that big piece of meat between her legs. She humped back at his cock as hard as she could. LOW sobs broke from her throat.
"I fucking love it," she sobbed. "I love, it. Oh Jesus, I love it!"
"I know you do," Greg said. "All you women are just alike when I get my cock in. You're all just pussy when it gets down to it."
"Give it to me harder," she groaned.
He gave her the fucking she'd needed for so long. He treated her like a cunt and he drove his cock in deeper than any man had ever gone. He ass mauled her ass while his big prick kept thrusting into her.
"Oh Jesus," she cried. "I'm coming! I'm going to come. I'm coming. Goddddddd!"
Her shattering climax rocked her body and left her limp and exhausted. Her pussy made loud wet sounds as Greg continued to drive his prick into her pussy.
"Fuck me," Greg moaned. "Move your ass. Ahhh, you sweet bitch. I'm going to give you my fucking juice. I'm going to blow your ass off. God, you bitchhhhhh!"
His thick cum squirted into her cunt until she could feel it wetting her thighs. Almost immediately he pulled his prick from her cunt and started to get off the bed.
"You're not leaving," she said.
"Of course," he said. "I raped you, remember. I'm going to give you a chance to call the cops."
He dressed and left, but she never called the bops. She couldn't have told them about the sweet, wonderful feelings he had given her. It might have started out to be rape but it hadn't finished that way.
And suddenly Cynthia knew that there was a damn good chance that this would happen again.