Chapter 11
In its most advanced stages fear wipes itself out and a lightheaded euphoria settles in, separating the doer from the task. That's precisely what happened to Bob Carlson when he separated himself from the stalking squadron of police officers who with drawn guns and gas cannisters, encircled the crumbling stucco walls of The Big Sleep Motel from the back.
It was one man against a crazed, career-hungry police officer now, and Bob Carlson had no reason to believe the Lieutenant would risk saving Jill for the sake of his bloody career. The Dallas Police Department's reputation for killing suspects on the run was nothing short of startling, if not sickening, and now his wife Jill was about to become one more statistic, one more gold star toward somebody's salary raise.
In the pink dawn light Bob skimmed close to the ground, his Gucci shoes scuffing on the crunching gravel, his loosened tie flapping in the wind. His tired eyes watered from whirlpools of dust whipping up in the parking lot where a black truck was parked. The howling bark of the motel owner's guard dog pierced the quiet.
This had to be the truck that had taken his Jill. Hunching over, he darted toward the truck, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead, mouth dry, heart thumping hard, echoing in his ears. Bob licked his parched lips, waddling now to stay well below the motel windows. In case the Lieutenant started blasting away at the motel, he had to find something to hide behind.
Another ten yards and he had reached the front wheels of the truck, skimming along to the back now, his white shirted back plastered against the dusty sides. Unnannounced, a lone gunshot sliced the morning stillness. Bob winced, and darted towards the back of the truck.
Ahhhhhh ... ohhh ... aaaajeeeiii ... nnnggghhhh...." Bob shook his head to clear his senses. Was his imagination tricking him? Ears keened, his eyes fell on the sliding door, opened the full width of a man. Dear Jesus, was Jill tied up in there with rags stuffed in her mouth ... the dirty bastards!
With superhuman strength, he hurled himself up into the truck and grabbed a goose-necked desk lamp for a weapon. He was panting, his heart pounding furiously, and then he saw them. Bob reeled, almost turning and fleeing in revulsion at the scene that greeted him in the dark, musty depths of the truck where the smell of sex stung his nostrils. If the sight of her wasn't enough to make him wretch, the words spilling out of her cock-filled mouth was:
"Oh ... mmmfff ... fffuck meeeee ... umm ... haarrder ... mfff!" Jill was naked, save for the wadded up shimmer of a nightie that did nothing to hide the swollen mounds of her creamy breasts, and if it hadn't been the man humping over her body, Bob could have seen the red swollen petals of her pussy, glistening with excitement.
She was bound by her arms to render her body totally helpless before them, and in the shallow light of dawn he could see the red welts swelling about her delicate white wrists. Her hair was matted with sweat and slimy half-dried streaks of male sperm. The fact would have stimulated him to immediate violence if it were not for one complication: She liked it! That was made painfully clear by the look of depraved ecstasy on her face and by the stream of filthy utterances streaming from her mouth. Jill, his bubbly, blue-eyed life mate, was completely dishevelled. Her body was glistening wetly with the thin beads of sweat that covered it.
Nobody heard his entry, not the gaunt looking ghost of a figure whose blood-swollen cock was probing between Jill's hungry lips nor the whalish man whose stubby cock was clenched tightly in his wife's ivory fist, pumping it, squeezing it. Bob gagged for a moment, staring wild eyed in the shadows, his eyes raking over the jumble of mouths and cocks and arms and legs until he saw a third ... oh dear God, a third man ... fucking into Jill's battered cunt. He watched in abject horror as his wife arched her back and slung her slender legs up around the man's neck, slamming her pelvis up against him to get all of it.
Bob reeled, his mouth getting suspiciously hot and moist as he fought down a wave of nausea. His cheeks burned hotly and sweat poured from his body. In one swift teeth-gnashing, eye-popping gesture he threw the goosenecked lamp against the truck's wall and threw back his head and screamed.
In that split second all activity stopped. Wild crash followed wild crash as the three burglars dived for safety, pulling their cocks free from Jill Carlson's nibbling orifices, leaving her body vulnerable to her husband's inspection. Shiny patches on her inner thighs and the bared half moons of her buttocks, again on her breasts and even her cheeks and lips, could indicate only one thing; great flowing streams of exploded male cum! Her breasts were taut and swollen, the nipple dark and rigid, and spread about them on her inner thighs were love bites. Her eyes were dazed and watery and the stream of obscenities that poured from her mouth was something he'd never dreamed he'd hear from any female, let alone his Jill:
"Come on, somebody crawl up between my legs and suck me ... oh, fuck me, please ... oh God, fuck me!" Jill was frantic with lust and she arched her back, slamming her pelvis up to an imaginary mouth. '"Come and fuck me like a man, you bastards ... please!"
Bob's upper lips curled in disgust and with his right hand hooked in his shirt collar, he yanked once, ripping it to the waist. His pants came next, then the shoes. He stared square in the face four years of accumulated guilt which had culminated in this night of horrors. He had foolishly blamed himself for Jill's kidnapping, had even sworn to do away with himself if anything happened to her. All that self-loathing and dirty guilt for nothing! I'll make you cum."
Oh, who was saying that? Jill glanced about frenziedly. Why did they all leave her?
Behind a rocking chair, Charlie assayed the situation with cool cunning. Whoever this idiot, this raging bull was, he wasn't armed and he wasn't after them. Sure as hell, though, he had a line up of friends out there, and dollar to a donut they were wearing black shirts with shiny stars hanging on their pockets. His eyes raked over the truck's floor, littered with underwear and other strewn clothing. A metallic glint caught his eye. With bated breath, he watched the strange man ripping off his clothes while he raged against the naked well-fucked woman who lay wincing, shivering with fright. When Bob's back was turned, Charlie made a lunge for it, but Bob was too quick. His heel gnashed down on Charlie's spread fingers, grinding the bony digits against the gun's barrel. "Uggghh...." His knee came up under Charlie's chin in a tooth loosening jolt, sending him careening backwards to crumble against a glass etagere that wobbled and crashed down on top of him.
"Get out of here!" screamed Bob, knowing the other two were hiding somewhere in the suffocating confines of the truck. "Get the fuck out of here and leave me alone with my wife!"
One by one the three of them hunkered to the floor, grabbing their clothes and dashing for the door. Charlie wiped the blood from his forehead and snatched up his clothes, his eyes flinted with anger. Bob's eyes locked on Charlie's criminal ones and slowly, the distressed husband bent down and picked up the gun.
"I said get the fuck out."
Charlie didn't need to be told twice.
They left Bob staring down at his wife's sperm and sweat drenched body. Jill looked up at him, the picture of misery; yet even as he stood there watching her with his hard, contemptuous disgust, her body still squivered as if still in the twitched of her last orgasm.
"Youre a disgusting sight." He tossed the gun aside.
"They ... they kidnapped me ... oh Bob, oh Bob, don't ever leave me alone again," whimpered Jill. "They ... they tied me up and ... and made me do it."
It was difficult for Bob to believe that this woman was his wife ... his sweet wife who baked him birthday cakes. Now sketches of memories of their love making seemed to flutter at him like bats out of dark caves. It had been a long chain of "no, Bobbie's,"
"no, don't kiss me there's." Now she was going to surrender to him for the first time in his life and he could do with her as he pleased. And cruel and perverse as the idea seemed to him, taking advantage of her because she was tied up made his loins churn with a strangely cruel stirring.
He moved back along the sofa, trailing his middle finger across the glistening, cum slippery split of her pussy, then shoving deep down between her thighs and teasing the tiny, puckered little hole of her anus. Then he shoved it in ruthlessly, defying the tight elastic resistance and popping it into the first knuckle into the clasping hole.
"Aaaggggghhh!" she screamed, twisting her body and shoving her hips upward in retreat from the pain. "Bob ... oh, Bob, stop this!"
"What about that? Did they fuck you in the ass too? Or didn't you beg loud enough?"
"Noooo! Bob ... oh God, Bob ... if you have to ... make love to me ... down there ... in my cunt."
He wiggled the finger so her body contorted violently again. "I said, 'Did they fuck you in the ass too?'"
"NO! No one did!" she cried louder, cringing against her husband's righteously accusing glare.
With a slight sucking pop that made her gasp deeply, Bob withdrew the finger. "You want to cum ... I'll make you cum."
Jill shuddered silently for a moment, staring at him in complete awe. She'd become a stranger to herself during this hellish, insane night, and Bob, too, gentle, loving Bob seemed to have metamorphosized into a cold, methodical demon. Couldn't he understand that she was only trying to stay alive? Lord, couldn't he see?
Bob reached down and tweaked one of her nipples, then pinched it so hard she jumped against her bonds. The craving in his gonads grew heavy with perversity. Jill gave out a little cry, her eyes wide with the terror that he may have lost his mind finding her like this.
Then his hand trailed lightly up her bosom to her neck, at last to her mouth. He flicked at a little rivulet of glistening male sperm trickling down the side of her cheek, noting there was more in her hair.
"Bob ... oh God, Bob ... I'll do the same for you! Please ... I'll take your cock in my mouth, but just don't look at me like that!" She gazed at him desperately as more tears spilled from her swollen eyes. "No, Bob," she pleaded softly. Her anus still seared from his probing finger.
Bob didn't answer, and she knew argument was futile. She let her body sink back limply, the fight gone from it, as Bob stepped out of his jockey shorts. Suddenly she felt his hands tugging with the ropes that held her wrists and she opened her eyes, staring at his lean and muscular nakedness, recalling that night he'd left ... his birthday, was it ... when she'd begged him to stay and make love to her like a man. What had been sweet and loving was now tainted with animal lust. With a last tug he undid the rope and the strain on her arms was released. Jill drew them quickly down to her bosom, shifting them about to ease the ache in her shoulders. Finally she was free!
"Roll over and kneel up with your ass in the air!" bellowed Bob, feeling the needless guilt and remorse empty from his mind.
Jill gasped, opening her eyes and shaking her head desperately. He stared at her for a moment, then reached down with both arms and slipped them under her light naked body, lifting her and letting her bounce on the sofa on her belly. She felt him crawling on top of her, his weight pressing down heavily on her back, his hands shoving her thighs ruthlessly apart and spreading the moisture from her cunt up into the crevice between her satiny buttock cheeks tickling her clenched anus to bring a soft mewl of fear to her lips.
But she didn't fight back. She sobbed in protest as she felt his thumbs pulling the two vainly resisting cheeks apart, then shuddered at the touch of the rubbery bluntness that fitted itself between his thumbs.
"Ohhhhh ... N-No ... Bob! Please, you can't mean this!" she cried in a soul shattering screech as she felt the tight resisting nether ring give way before the tip of his heavily throbbing cock popping up inside with a quick, painful jerk.
"Ohhhh ... nngggghhhh!" she screamed, then groaned in submission, her blue eyes watering in torment as she felt his cock slither up into her, pushing apart the rubbery walls until she was certain it couldn't go any further. Again he shoved forward, and her body contorted demonically as she felt the long shaft bury itself deep inside the soft buttery depths of her stretched anus.
Bob waited, deliberately giving her anus a moment to adjust to this unnatural intrusion, before he levered himself up and with a rumbling grunt, fucked back into her with a soft, smooth stroke that pulled tiny ridges of her pinkly clasping rectal flesh out with the base of his prick as it withdrew for another buttock flattening assault. Jill's body jerked and quivered and her thighs convulsed as his thrusts grew harder and more searing in her rectum. His sadistic grunts and groans didn't seem to belong to the gentle fellow of Bob Carlson.
At last the pain was so unbearable she thought she might black right out ... until, unexpectedly, she seemed to rise above the pain. The same searing feeling was there, but it became sweetly bearable, and in a spontaneous reflex, she began to move backward to meet the thrusts, undulating her hips from side to side, increasing the friction and building the sensation to the bittersweet rhythm of pleasure-pain.
Still out of his mind with jealousy and rage, Bob gazed down at the sweating back beneath him. He remembered the innocent snow white virgin he'd married and tried to rationalize her with this writhing sex-bomb beneath him. They weren't even the same spirits any more. His hand slipped down beneath her body, gently cupping her breasts, letting his strokes slacken to an almost gentle probing. As his hands ran over the familiar curves of her body, his anger quelled a bit, and with a sickening feeling he realized that he was raping his own wife. God, forbid, he'd done s me pretty despicable things, but this was truly crossing the Rubicon. He stopped thrusting into her, while his exploring hands kneaded at her breasts. Jill had suffered enough pain ... it would take a demented monster to add to it ... no matter what.
Feeling the unexpected display of tenderness, Jill groaned softly and screwed her hips back even harder. Why had he stopped? Her anal muscles clasped tightly around the passion-hardened shaft. Something was happening to her as Bob's hands massaged her breasts and his soft pubic hair ground deliciously against the opened crevice of her buttocks, teasing the button of her anus.
Her face rolled from side to side in biting frustration. No matter how she ground her buttocks back at him, no matter how she swung her hips, he wouldn't resume his buttocks flattening lunges that drove her wild with lust. "Oh, God, darling, fuck me!" she gasped suddenly, astonished by her own voice. "I love it! Come on ... fuck meeee!"
Dear Jesus, she likes it! She's screaming for it! How could fail to accommodate the lady? Bob threw back his head and started pounding into his wife, grinding his blood heavy cock into her tender rectum in long smooth strokes. His hand moved down from her breasts along the sensitive flesh of her belly to find the hard wet bud of her clitoris and began to massage it rapidly as he quickened the strokes into her asshole, racking her body, yet balancing the pain with a rapidly growing pleasure that again became one with it.
"Oh, cum in me back there, honey! Cum in me!" A shudder ran through her and she buckled her hips up wildly, crying insanely as she felt the stirring in her clitoris spread out to mee the burning sensations in her anus, then consume her whole body in racking waves of ecstasy. Above her, Bob groaned, trying to slacken off, but it was not to be. It started in his testicles ... that heavy, churning sensation, and shot through his groin to traverse the ten inches of blood engorged male flesh. In seconds, his hot, lust heated semen gushed hose-like deep into her openly clinging rectum, flooding far up into her belly.
It happened for Jill at the same time, leaving her a sobbing, senseless whelp beneath him. Her own orgasm flooded down between her legs, soaking Bob's massaging fingers in sticky webs of milk. Jill's body felt like worn out rubber, soft and pliable, all fight gone out of it. Words seemed inadequate. How could she even begin to explain the past twenty four hours?
Bob, too, was tongue-tied. A few minutes later, his penis deflating, he withdrew it with a slow, sucking sound from her anal passage and rolled over on his back.
In the nebulous twilight zone that follows fatigue and precedes sleep, Bob lay numbly next to his wife, huddled up on their living room sofa, now sopped with sweat and puddles of cum. That could be replaced, and the smashed etegere and lamps. Thank God for insurance! But his marriage? That would require a careful audit to balance the credits and debits.
The morning sun filtered in through the air vents, sending dusty rays of light to stripe Jill's naked body. Her bouncy honey curls were bedspring tight now, her cheeks spotted crimson. The matted up fabric of her red nightie ripped to shreds, impoverished her of all modesty. She looked like a pornographic Raggedy Ann dumped on a child's bed.
A rumble of activity and the coarse language of criminals coming face to face with fate eluded their ears ... until the truck came alive with Lieutenant Samuels ebulliency and the horde of New Mexico highway patrolmen that followed him.
A snicker curled the Lieutenant's upper lip. "Well, I'll be damned," he guffawed hoarsely, hooking his thumbs in his gun holster and pushing back the brim of his hat. "Good work, Carlson! We got the sonofabitches in the squad car...." His voice trailed off into a hoarse whisper as his sleep weary eyes fell on Jill's naked bumps and curves. The Lieutenant let loose with a low wolf whistle. "You want me to get the press now, Carlson?" He turned on his heel, his bellowing laughter dying in Bob's ears.