Chapter 2
Peter Parker pulled up in his van with "Pete's Trusty TV Repair" freshly painted in gothic white letters. Last week he'd scouted the Henderson's home posed as a plumber and the week before that as an electrician somewhere else. Before he retired he would be a jack of all trades. "I don't know a goddamned thing about fixin' TVs," he muttered to himself, gathering up his tools. "With my luck it'll turn out her sonofabitchin' TV really is on the blink!"
Thumbing through the notebook he carried in his coverall's pocket, the wily scout purused the facts: "2233 Collins Avenue. Married couple, no children. Husband out of town. Accessible through bedroom glass sliding door. Dog suspected."
In the burglary racket you had to stick your neck out to make a buck, and after two years in the pen for bad checks, he had learned to crack a safe with his hands tied behind his back ... the Houdini of rip-off artists.
He shuffled up the sidewalk, rang the doorbell and waited, making a quick survey of the tidy front yard, eyes zeroing in on the garage door and raking over windowsills for evidence of a burglar alarm system. He paused, then rang again, and before he'd removed his finger from the button, the door popped open and a curly-headed blonde with baby blue eyes stared him sleepily in the face. Obviously she had just rolled out of bed, for she clutched shut the waist-dipping neckline of a pink peignoir, wadding up the diaphonous fabric in one delicate fist. Her creamy, otherwise flawless skin, was etched with little sleep lines around her wide sparkling eyes, hinting at fatigue or unhappiness.
"Mornin', m'am," Pete boomed, shooting her a Cheshire cat grin and tipping his billed cap with a red embroidered "P" on the front. "I hope I didn't shake ya outta the rack, lady....I'm here to fix your television set."
Jill blinked at this man, her silky eyelashes fluttering over her rosy cheeks, eyes squinting against the nine o'clock sun. "Our television set is working fine ... I didn't...."
"Hmmmmm...." Pete scratched his chin, stealing a peek over her shoulder into the sunlight interior of the Carlson's tastefully decorated home, his eyes registering dollar signs as he appraised the custom-built stereo system. Probably worth about four bills to the fence, calculated Pete. "Your husband called us. Here...." He delved into his pocket to pull out a crumpled piece of paper and brandished it before Jill, then tucked it back into his coverall pocket before her sleep-blurred eyes could decipher the messy penmanship. "Got the work order right here."
Jill shrugged, swallowing a yawn. "Could be ... he's so seldom at home I don't know who he's called for what." After a cursory inspection, she said, "Come on in."
Jill held wide the door, letting the morning sun shimmer through the immodest filmy nylon of her peignoir, giving Pete an eyeful of her creamy curves. Quickly, he sidestepped her, torn between taking a survey of her physical assets and her furniture, both of which were in excellent taste.
Tiredly, Jill's succulent lips parted in a yawn; she had hardly slept a wink last night and the Valium failed to relax her. That was Bob's fault for leaving her with a tingling pussy that screamed to be filled with hot male flesh. How could she possibly sleep with that gnawing frustration! Now, in her dulled mental state, she neglected to realize that the lush contours of her slender body were open to inspection beneath her peignoir that shadowed the brown tips of her nipples and accentuated the pouting mound of her hair-fringed vagina. "I hadn't noticed the TV was on the blink...."
None of this luscious shadow play was lost on Pete who pushed his cap back on his head and choked down a low wolf whistle. This lady was a real looker! His eyes refused to budge from the Grand Canyon cleavage between those strawberry tips long enough to scan the room for valuables. Who the hell could concentrate on the value of paintings with this sex-pot mind distraction!
"Look at whatever you wish. Don't mind me," she said with a lopsided, helpless grin, oblivious to his insistent gaze. "Hmmmmm ... as a matter-of-fact," said Jill, placing a red painted fingertip to her pouty pink lips, eyes squinting with thought, " ... he might have called about the TV in our bedroom. I never use it, but Bob is a nut for watching TV in bed."
Pete followed her docilely down the hallway, his eyes fixed upon her softly undulating buttocks, and his mind fixed on his lazily stirring prick awakening for a morning feeding. What kind of broad would greet a TV repairman in nothing but her birthday suit shadowed by a bit of pink fluff ... unless her husband had left her high and dry the night before.
"Hubby travels a lot, huh?" Pete clenched his fists, fighting the temptation to grab those beautiful buttocks and slam his prick up into her hairless little asshole.
At the bedroom door, Jill spun around and looked Pete square in the eye, for the first time regarding him as a human being. A handsome guy he was ... tall, blonde, and square-shouldered with a bristling mustache shrouding his upper lip. "Take a look for yourself." She pointed to the television set atop a glass etagere which Pete quickly assessed at forty dollars to the fence.
Pete read the subconscious implications of her receptive blue-eyed gaze that swept over the airy bedroom, settling on the king-sized bed that dominated it, deciding that this little lady was out to get herself a little extra nooky while ol' Bob left her with cold sheets and a hot pussy. Forcing a serious expression, Pete knelt down on one knee behind the set, pushed back his cap and started fiddling around with the screws and knobs.
"It hasn't been turned on in a week ... you might try looking at the picture first to see what needs adjustment...."
"Oh, sure ... good idea," he beamed. Christ, I can count the pussy hairs, with her standing in the sunlight like that! One eye on Jill's Boticelli nymph-like stance and the other on the TV, he yanked loose a wire, then turned on the set. The screen was solid black.
"Looks like it'll need a lot of work ... I'm not sure I have the tools."
"Oh, that's just dandy!" sputtered Jill, bracing her hands on her hips, giving the repairman a healthy peek at her slender thighs and long, luscious legs. "This husband of mine ... I swear ... doesn't take care of anything!"
... lean tell lady! Your cunt lips are achin' for a rub.
"I've been bickering with him for weeks to install a burglar alarm. Why, you never know who's going to come through your door."
"Ain't that the truth, Mrs. Carlson...." snickered Pete, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
Jill busied herself making the bed. "Like our neighbors down the street. Why, just last week they came home to find their house empty."
Pete swallowed dryly. Maybe it was a dumb idea hitting the same neighborhood in a month.
"Can you imagine that? Coming home to find everything gone? They even took their toothbrushes!" Her voice went high with excitement. Fluffing up a pillow, she tossed it to the other side of the bed, giving him a profile view of her firm mammary glands and flat tummy. "Nothing but crooks in the world." Standing with legs spread wide, her nearly naked buttocks waving before Pete's face, she bent over to pick up a carelessly strewn sock.
Christ, I can see her asshole!
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" she beamed over at him.
"That's not all I'd like...." murmured Pete. Jill flew around, facing him.
"Wh-? Oh!" She glared down at her gaping neckline and the filmy pink nothing that covered her nakedness. In a horrified jaw-slackening gasp, she clamped her tiny hands over the mountainous bumps of her breasts in an untimely show of modesty. Her Mediterranean blue eyes popped wide in mortification. She had been parading about almost naked in front of this total stranger! What must he think of her? With a shriek of terror, she darted from the bedroom toward the dressing room where she ripped off the two layers of filmy nylon and slipped into a sweater and a pair of slacks. But the sweater cupped her high upthrust breasts in a way that her negligee hadn't, and the pants were a bit tight, making it difficult to pull the zipper. She sucked in her breath, flattening her stomach, and tugged.
"I'm ... I'm going to the kitchen to make some coffee," she called out in a shaking voice. "Can I get you some?"
"Sure can, m'am!" Jesus, nothing like a few buns with morning coffee, he thought, the vision of her ass cheeks imprinted in his mind, knowing that whatever he wanted to do with this hot-assed little housewife wouldn't get back to Pete's Trusty TV repair.
Minutes later, Jill sashayed into the bedroom toting two steaming cups of coffee on dainty porcelain saucers which she set on the dresser. "Oh ... they're hot!" she cooed, blowing on her fingers and wincing. "Do you take cream?"
Pete stood up and licked his lips salaciously. "Do you take cream?" he mimicked, pinning her to the wall in one easy stride, pressing her soft, yielding body against his broad chest, and thrusting his tongue deep inside her mouth with a smooth even motion. His tongue searched way back, down to her tonsils, probing at the insides of her squeaky clean teeth, his mouth sucking at her tongue with a loud wet slurping noise.
Jill struggled fiercely, biting and clawing at his face, hysteria rising like mercury in her veins. But Pete's arms were strong, stronger than any that had even held her, and she was helplessly trapped in his arms. Her screams were stifled in her throat by the persistent snaking tongue that slithered into her wide-open mouth, and he clamped her arms behind her back, grinding his jabbing penis into her belly.
Crazy thoughts ran through Jill's mind ... mostly horror stories of women being raped in their own homes while their husbands were away at work. She could be a statistic.
A maniac! He was some kind of maniac! She would call his boss and have him fired immediately ... and then press charges. That was in the future and this was the present, and that thick hard rod pressing against her tummy was enormous! Good God, could that be all him? Her imagination went to work, bloated that penis into a battering ram that could shatter her vagina to bits.
Holding tight to her arms, Pete walked Jill backwards toward the bed. A little fight in a woman was icing on the cake, but this one had more frosting than cake! Maybe the poor dumb broad hadn't meant to parade around half naked. Time would tell.
He could feel the mounds of Jill's breasts cushioned against his chest, making two large warm spots there.
Christ Almighty! She was built like Aphrodite and probably equally as unfaithful to her husband as well! He backed her up until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed, and he forced her down on her back. They landed flat like two boards on the big bed. One hard thigh pressed between her legs, separating them and making it impossible for her to move one way or the other. He would have to work like a beaver, he thought, grinning at his own pun, or the whole thing would be a total bust!
His hands fumbled about searching for the secret of getting off her slacks; his thievish instincts took over, and he found the secret in the elastic waistband. His hand slipped surreptitiously beneath the stretching elastic and then down into the soft white flesh of Jill's still-squirming hips. Just below, the smaller elastic of her nylon panties hugged her slender hips and his fingers raced to explore beneath it. Her alabaster skin was smooth as satin as his hot nervous hand shoved beneath Jill's twisting hips, but he swiftly cupped one forbidden buttock, kneading it, pinching it, enjoying its secrecy to the fullest degree.
"Nice little ass, baby, nice little ass!"
The second Pete's mouth left Jill's, she let out a piercing scream. "Tobeeeee!" She squirmed wormishly and spat up at him, her eyes two burning coals of fear. "Please ... let me go! Let me go." She tried to bite Pete's lips, but he drew his head back quickly and clamped his big paw over her rosy lips.
"Hey, you're actin' like you weren't askin' for this ... coming to the door with your boobs hanging out like that. Come off it, sweetheart! You're one horny little bitch and you know you were beggin' for this."
His hard cock throbbed against the wide split between Jill's legs, and he considered just ripping off her slacks and plugging it into her pussy without further nonsense. Her struggling and yelling had only excited him more, preferring a woman with a little fight-and now he wanted to get this conquest over with.
Jill listened to his words with a sinking sense of doom. A flood of bad memories of Bogota and the sound of her grandfather's dead weight hitting the floor in a blast of gunfire spated her mind. He actually thought she wanted to be pinned to her own bed by a stranger? Carelessness had gotten her into this mess.
Pete removed his hand from her mouth to see if she would stop screaming, and Jill implored pitifully: "Please ... it's all a mistake ... I didn't mean to come to the door in that nightie ... I was asleep. I swear it!"
Pete was half-listening ... his hands preoccupied him ... sliding beneath Jill's sweater, invading the filled cups of her lacy brassiere, holding onto the warm trembling orbs, jiggling them in his hands as if weighing cantalopes. Then he tweaked and twisted at her nipples with a sudden pinching motion.
Where was that lazy dog? "Tobeee...!"
"Mfffff ... ohhhhh...." Jill cried out in real pain, and it sounded so wretched, her pretty rosebud mouth puckering up into a pretzel, that Pete stopped abruptly and looked down into her angel face. Her words floated through his mind like a taped replay.
God ... she's not kidding.
Furious ... he couldn't rape her, not after she'd been so nice and trusting. Letting out a deep disappointing sigh, he shook his head and studied her watery blue eyes. His cock felt like a shaft of granite stuffed inside his. coveralls, but it would have to remain in that tortured state until he could get down to the Boardwalk where the hookers would be all too happy to trade his twenty bucks into fifteen minutes of cock-sucking heaven.
"Baby," he spat the word out into her face, snickering lightly, "you're a real cock tease, you know that?"
"No, no I'm not!" defended Jill, yanking her slacks up and scrambled out from under his weight. "I ... I'm sorry if I led you on ... but I'm very happy with my husband!" she screamed over her shoulder as she darted out of the room. In her haste, she tripped twice as tears blurred her vision. Once in the study, she slammed the door shut, locked it, and grunted and puffed until Bob's mahogany desk was propped up to the door. Her breath came heavily, wretching sobs racking her body as she stood with one ear keened to the door, listening for the TV repairman's footsteps that never came.
Jill stared at the telephone, dashed toward it and plastered the receiver next to her ear, her shaky finger jabbing at the 0 button. She would call the police and report this crazy rapist! Suddenly, her jaw fell slack. What would she say to them? ... that she'd answered the doorbell in her nightie and after fifteen minutes of prancing around before the TV repairman, he'd kissed her? They would laugh in her face! Men always defended each other in those situations; that kind of empathy ran deep.
The receiver dropped from her hand and her fear-widened eyes riveted on the door. Her knees did a weak, shaking dance against each other, and she slumped down to the floor where she crouched, listening, waiting for the door handle to turn.
"Haaahhhh...." Two wide blue eyes turned pale at the sound of footsteps thundering down the hallway approaching the study. Closer, closer ... then passing, followed by the front door slamming. Seconds later the sound of a motor starting up and the screech of tires that accompanies a hasty departure. From the window she watched as "Pete's Trusty TV Repair" hurtled down the street sliding sideways, nearly clipping off the corner street sign.
Dazed and trembling, Jill braced her lithe one hundred and seven pounds against the heavy desk and freed the door. Once in the bedroom, she decisively pulled open her dresser drawer, unscrewed the bottle and gulped down a Valium. Throwing up her arms, she yanked off the sweater, wadded it into a ball and tossed it into a corner. The same fate befell the slacks, panties and brassiere. Shaking in a hot rage of fear and anger, she climbed naked into the bed she shouldn't have got out of that morning.
The cool sheets had a placating effect on her naked body, somehow cooling her overheated flesh, and she buried her flushed cheeks in the soft feather pillow, trying to blot out the memory of all that had just happened. Like a scratched record album, each insult, each insinuating detail ran over and over in her fevered mind. The whole incident was insane ... impossible! Life was crazy! ... Bob leaving her alone most of the time, that useless dog lolling out in the backyard, the TV repairman showing up without notice. J can't cope ... sorry Dr. Kinder, but I can't cope with all this nonsense.
Perhaps it would have been easier, had she a man around to keep her company and bolster her courage now and then with tender lovemaking.
Jill's body trembled between the clinging sheets and a kind of prickly sensation played along her voluptuous curves ... little tongues of fire nipping her naked flesh. The speculation of what might have happened caused her to jerk spasmodically. That monster, with his enormous penis ... was going to ... God, it was so huge ... it must reach down to his knees!
"Ohhhh...!" Her hand shot down between her thighs to cup protectively the pouting mound of her pussy. He would have shoved his penis way up there! She hugged it again, this time letting the palm of her hand rub tantalizingly over the hard nub of her clitoris. Instantly, she pulled her fingers away. Why, she was soaking wet down there! Her fingers caused a wild tingling sensation that pierced her belly with a stab of acute pleasure-pain.
"Aaaaahhh...." she sighed softly, and somewhere in her brain, a voice said:
"Take your hand away, little girl! what are you doing?" It was her mother's voice speaking to Jill as a ten year old. "Such a dirty thing to do!"
Dirty, yes ... but, God, I need it! Her fingers moved lightly over the sensitive slippery folds, playing her cunt like piano keys, creating tiny tracing lines of lust wherever they touched. This delicious sensation was rising ... overtaking her sensual nakedness with its demand for satisfaction. It swirled in her belly and along the satiny tissue to her breasts ... up to her stiff nipples. Automatically, her other hand reached to twist the aching nipples.
"Aaaahhhh...." she sighed, her eyelids fluttering. All of her seemed to be waiting for these touches. Her hands moved blindly now, quickening their licentious probings as Jill began to twist her body and to rise and lift herself on the bed, arching her back until her buttocks were grinding in circles in the air.
"Oh, Goawd!" she murmured. "Oh, Gawd!"
Her lithe body turned, twisted and gyrated, tortured by her teasing fingers. Lust became an all consuming fire and she its sacrificial fuel.
"Ah ... ahhh ... AAAHHHHH...." she cried out as her finger slipped into the pink wet opening of her pussy. This was food to a starving body. She would die without these fingers which should have been a huge penis, hard, shoving brutally up into her seething pussy, pushing against the wetly sucking walls of her cunt, throbbing deep inside of her. Hard! HARD!
Jill's fingers battered into the burning hole between her silken thighs, her entire body bent into an obscene contortion by her mounting desire. She sighed and cried out, groaning with pleasure. This was ecstasy, this big make believe cock rising and thundering inside her pussy, while her body and twitching hips answered in rhythm.
"Oh ... oh ... yesssss!" throwing back her head, her mouth hanging open gasping for the next breath. It was the TV repairman's big, lust hardened cock fucking into her mercilessly, his massive prick hurting, smashing. She had to get him into her deeper, behind her fluttering eyelids Jill could see his purpleveined blood fed cock with its mushroomed head oozing pre-cum as its naked, shiny head hammered into her pink pussy lips, drawing the velvety folds in with each thrust, pulling out, then in again ... hurting, smashing, ramming! Deeper ... oh, deeper!
"I cannnnn't staaaand it! Oh, oh, ohhhhhhh!" she cried out. Back and forth, back and forth. In and out, in and out. She bucked against the palm of her hand, her fingers straining to accommodate the hair-lined pussy that was over-flowing with lust. On and on she finger fucked herself furiously while a tiny stream of saliva dribbled from the corner of her rosebud mouth.
"Aaaaahhhh, AAAHHHH!"