Chapter 6
Bob Carlson teetered on the brink of emotional despair. Compared to the heady ecstasy of oral sex with a professional like Janie, the platitudinous bliss of missionary lovemaking with Jill, his wife, was a meager morsel of carnality. An urgency to communicate his appreciation for satisfying his secret fixation gnawed at him, but when she zipped herself into her one piece jumpsuit and sashayed to the door, he couldn't conjure even a glimmer of affection. A silly little half-grin crossed his face as she blew him a kiss from the door. To combine Janie's ripe sensuality with Jill's angel faced innocence would be the cherry on the whipped cream, utterly glorious ... and hopelessly impossible.
A little sliver of hall light stole in through the door, then quickly erased itself as Janie closed the door behind her, leaving Bob to face the inevitable trauma of picking up the telephone and confronting Jill head-on. The old acquiescent Bob who soaked up his wife's fears was now replaced by a more worldly husband who would make demands of his wife. This telephone call was merely the anesthetic; face to face he'd surgically remove whatever obstruction had blocked her from enjoying oral sex. She had to understand that there was more to sex than climbing on and climbing off!
Decisively, he picked up the receiver, feeling a new charge of energy, got an outside line and dialed his home number. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the empty ring. After eight rings, he rammed the receiver back on the cradle and gritted his teeth. I see ... she's being dramatic ... trying to make me feel guilty again. It's not going to work this time, honey!
He squinted at the illuminated hands of his travel alarm. Jesus Christ, it was six thirty in the morning! And he had meetings all day! Groaning to his feet, he stomped into the bathroom and washed away the pungent scent of lovemaking, wondering deep in his soul if he'd have the balls to come home to his wife after staying out all night in Dallas. Would he have accepted Loren's 'bonus' back home in Dallas.
As he lathered and hummed, scrubbing away at his genitals, he wondered what his response would be should he come home and find his wife with her pouty red lips wrapped around another man's cock while she mewed and cooed delighting in the feel of another man's nose grinding against her clitoris, his tongue laving its way up into her tender pink pussy. It'll never happen ... not my Jill, he thought, bouncing from the shower and wrapping himself in a towel before plunking down on the bed and dialing home one more time.
With the sublime bliss of a mother taking her first peek at her first born, Pete unrolled his swaddled cargo and stared with softened eyes at Jill Carlson's peacefully slumbering face. Her red lips were parted slightly, showing even white teeth, and her black eyelashes flickered as if her dreams were punctuated with spurts of painful emotion. Immediately he flicked off his flashlight and went to work.
Standing up in the back of the heaving and listing truck was no small accomplishment; Speedy took to the curves with the ferocity of a race track driver, sloshing the heavy cargo around in the box like so many bushels of tomatoes. The expensive upright brass lamps with their parchment shades crashed to the floor, smashing down on top of the turn table's smoked-plastic protector and rolling about on the floor like bowling pins gone wild. Twice he had to shield Jill's body with his own hulk to keep the whirlwind of flying objects from bruising her.
After those first rough minutes, the holocaust quieted and Pete assumed they had hit the straightaway of the desert freeway, heading west to Tucson where they would unload the goods to their 'fence.' The temperature change was shooting the mercury high; it was insufferably stuffy back there in that heated tin can and the pungent smell of onions and the earthy musk of potatoes stung his nostrils.
Pete was all hands fumbling in the dark, reaarranging things by touch and repiling the clumsy cargo, clearing a safe center circle. He cleared the litter from the Carlson's new white sofa that still bore the manufacturer's tag and spread Jill's limp, supple body out on it. A little sigh of relief bubbled from her throat. He must work fast; she would soon awaken. In case she might thump to the floor in a sudden stop, he unrolled a carpet and placed it before the sofa. Across from her sat her colored portable television atop a marble topped end table. On outward appearances it appeared to be an altruistic apology for having spirited her off in her sleep ... but in truth his homey arrangement reeked of selfishness. Pete was getting ready to awaken her ... and it wouldn't be pleasant.
It must have been around breakfast time, between seven and eight o'clock when her heavy lids first flickered open and her first terrified scream rent the dusty air. Jill stared into infinite blackness, her mind a cluttered whirlwind of disjointed memories and faceless images, merged together in a maelstrom of gut-wrenching terror. Her fist flew to her mouth and she nibbled fearfully at her knuckes. Where ... oh God, where was she? The dusty odor of rotting vegetables and the stinging suffocation of unvented cigarette smoke stung her nostrils in heady confusion. Wild eyed, she mustered the strength to prop herself up on one elbow and glanced around in the dead dark to where the orange flicker of a cigarette lighter illuminated a black face shiny with man sweat. Jill opened her mouth to scream but a hand, muddy with sweat and grime, clamped over her parched lips, making her swallow her own fear.
"Don' make a sound now, honey. You won't get hurt."
Oh, dear God! Her lacquered fingernails clawed at the darkened face, aiming hysterically for the eyes, but were quickly thwarted by a sinewy arm that caught both of her delicate wrists in one steely grip and held them helplessly above her head.
"I said, don' make a sound. I'm tryin' to get us nice and comfy back here ... we're gonna be doin' some travelin' together in the next coupla days, Mrs. Carlson. You better start makin' friends with me." The voice was even and calm ... almost friendly. Pete gnashed out his cigarette on the hard heel of his shoe and fumbled through his coverall pockets with a free hand. Out came the .38, a few stray bullets and a pack of cigarettes. He flicked the switch on a penlight and shone it into her reddened eyes.
"You was in pretty bad shape when I picked you up, lady. What made a pretty lady like you want to take all of those sleeping pills, anyway?"
My dear God in heaven, how could he know about that? Jill tried to swallow, but her mouth felt as if she'd been eating sand. No words came out.
"Hubby out fuckin' around on ya?" Pete snorted as he laughed, running the flashlight over her trembling goosebumped flesh that even in the stifling closeness, shivered with cold.
Who is this man? How does he know so much about me? Jill screamed silently in her drugged confusion. The insufferable heat was making her sweat rivers, and she could feel a thin gauze-like fabric clinging heatedly to her body, sticking obdurately to her naked breasts as if glued to the spikey nubs of her nipples. Her mouth flew open and she muttered not a word, even though that filthy paw had mercifully lifted from her lips, leaving a salty taste. In her slack jawed horror she stared down at the quarter-sized spot of light that had flitted over her body to pause deliberately at the nub of her right nipple.
"Nice lookin' boobs you got lady. Good 'nough to bite into."
That voice ... God, it was familiar! Jill was numb with disbelief. Her last conscious memory was letting Toby outside for a midnight run ... and ... that's how they must have broken into her house! What did they want with her?
After a few seconds of rumbling around, her disguised kidnapper mumbled, "Now if you'll promise to sit nice and quiet, I'll try to open a coupla vents to get some fresh air and light in here." There followed a crash as Pete, attempting to reach the side vents, climbed up on a wobbly stack of furniture that came crashing to the floor.
"Shit!" he muttered, picking himself up and trying again. A Venetian blind strip of light slivered in through the wedged open vent, spotlighting the center of the truck where Jill sat wild-eyed and shaking, little tortured mewls muffling from her throat.
Her wide eyes adjusted to the darkness, and flitted about the truck. She gawked, her blurry vision struggling to focus on the piles of furniture and household goods stacked in towers about her. Jill blinked, then shook her head, closed her eyes and blinked again. Was that her new portable color television set sitting on top of her marble topped end table ... or had she gone completely bananas? Something stirred within her, alerting her to an awesome familiarity with these items; it slowly grew to panic proportions. She ran her dainty hands over the soft pile of the white sofa she lay on, stroking it, looking first at the sofa, then at the man hidden in the shadows, refusing to reveal his face. Her aqua eyes squinted down at a dark spot on the sofa, her finger tracing its smudged outline. The urine stain....
"This ... this...." OH, she couldn't talk! Her tongue was so dry it stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she felt weak and faint. Two reddened orbs scoured over the shadowy outline of a turntable, with a bunch of silver items junked on top of it. Bob's new stereo-and it wasn't paid for!
"This ... this is my furniture. You thief! You dirty rot-!" Her voice died in a high shrill, quickly silenced by a .38 that rubbed its hard cold nose against her own. "You ... you've stolen everything from my house and kidnapped me along with it!" she wailed, feeling instantly weak after her hissing outburst. "Why? Why?"
"Like I say, don't go getting all riled up, because we've got lots of miles to ride together
... and I wouldn't raise my voice if I was you, 'cause my buddies in the cab ain't the sensitive type like me." He grinned crookedly, waving his pistol in the direction of the cab. "B'sides ... the desert ain't fit for no lady dressed like you. Those rattlesnakes and lizards would make puddin' outta you."
Jill sucked in her breath and grabbed for the sheet to cover her near nakedness as she stared into the whites of her kidnapper's eyes all that she could see of him. "You ... can't get ... away with ... this!" she blasted. "Let me out of this damned truck this minute!" she shrieked, feeling the panic of claustrophobia close in on her.
"Lady ... I saved your life."
If at least she could get a good look at him, perhaps she could reason with him ... or buy her way out. It suddenly struck her that ironically this man already had everything she owned! She struggled to scrape together a coherent plan of escape, raking her bewildered mind for old television detective stories, but all the women on the tube these days were bionic, and she Jill Carlson, was just flesh and blood woman.
"Lay down."
"Lay...? down...? NO!" Jill's curls kinked even tighter as she watched in horror the black-faced man step into her circle of filtered light and yank down the zipper of his coveralls. His calloused hands slipped the heavy cloth down over his shoulders and the garment fell to his ankles in a clink clank of gold jewelry that spilled from his pockets as if that spot of light he was standing in was the pot at the end of the rainbow. She was about to be raped by a Negro! OH, my God! "Get away from me!" she shrilled, flapping her hand at him and wincing pathetically.
Her weak defenses curled his lip in amusement. A couple more tugs with that steely hand and his jockey shorts puddled to his ankles. His long hard white cock jutted out inches from her face, shadowed as it was in the dusty morning light.
His long white cock...! OH, dear God, no! Wait a minute ... Jill blinked, her gaze shifting first from his black hand to his white purple-veined cock and back to his hand. His white cock...! At least he wasn't black. But that was precious little placation in a spine curdling moment like this!
Dear God, Bob....
Pete gave a short laugh, then with a sudden movement wagged his penis at her, bringing its fleshy, rigid length dangerously close to Jill's gaping mouth. "Ever sucked cock before, baby?" he demanded lewdly, while the young nearly naked woman cringed at the crude words he had uttered as if she had been struck with a closed fist.
Wide-eyed, paralyzed with fear, she watched him straddle her naked breasts, pinning her arms to her sides with his knees and saw the blood-fattened head of her kidnapper's penis thrust forward and press wetly against her tightly clenched, parched lips.
Oh, Bob ... where are you? Oh, God! Oh, God, oh, God!
"Come on, you little cock tease. It wants to spit on those pretty little tonsils of yours!" He grinned lewdly and with his thumb and forefinger reached down and pinched the nostrils of her finely chiseled little nose tightly together until she sputtered out in a desperate need for air.
"Mmmmmmpphhhhh! MMMMff!" Jill groaned, dizzy from holding her breath as long as she could before the truck's grinding gears and the stuffiness conspired against her. It was either open to breathe, or die.
"Come on, open up and let a little fresh air in that pretty mouth ... and a big bite of cock!" he laughed cruelly, watching her desperately struggle not to breathe.
And finally, her lungs searing from lack of oxygen, her eyes blinking against the stars, her lips popped open wide, sucking in great gulps of long denied air.
"Oh ho, now you want to milk a little cock, huh?" he mocked above her and then he shoved it into her helplessly gasping mouth, ramming it down deep inside her parched throat, until it seemed to brush all the way back against her open throat. Jill gagged and fought wildly to expel the rock hard intruder that filled her mouth so cruelly, so unnaturally. She moved her head from side to side, struggling helpless, gasping for breath. My God! This was disgusting, sinful and unclean! She would suffocate ... she couldn't breathe ... she would die!
Viciously, Pete grasped Jill's head in both hands and yanked it forward, as Jill broke free just long enough to suck in more of the cool fresh air, filling her lungs, panting with relief. Then the triumphantly grinning man with the black smudged face sank his lust hardened pole deep into her mouth again ... in ... in ... up to the hilt ... and the short, wiry hair around his penis grazed and tickled Jill's lips, while his sperm-filled balls slapped lewdly down against her chin, beating a lewd tattoo. Now he began to fuck in and out of her widely ovaled mouth with long, quick strokes, and strangely, partly due to the Valium's numbing effect and partly due to a rising tide of masochistic acceptance of the debasing act she was being forced to perform in this godforsaken truck, Jill began to feel a whispering wind of unwanted passion again rising in her that took possession of her body leaving her helpless to fight against this obscene defiling of her cock-stretched lips.
He rammed so hard into her mouth that Jill could feel the tight, parched corners of her lips stretch, then split painfully. Chills of damning excitement whipped up and down her goosebumped spine, little sparks of lascivious delight seemed to explode, fluttering like butterflies in her blood. With a terrible shame masked by the darkness of her confinement, she felt the sticky moistness seeping wetly between her now wide spread legs, felt the warmth of it suddenly hotly flooding her pulsing pussy, felt the ache and s throb of desire down there between her legs.
And she had refused to accommodate her husband Bob because the thought of taking his organ into her mouth revolted her, made her wretch with disgust. How could it be she was surviving this obscene maneuver? Oh, God! It was wonderfully horrible! Wicked and evil. In a sudden burst of enlightenment, she shed her inhibitions in the darkness of the truck and went at her act of cocksucking, running her shamelessly searching tongue back and forth over the sensitive surface of Pete's huge prick, teasing the tiny slit into its tip, licking the drops of sticky fluid that oozed from it, tasting it, savoring it, as he jerked his hips forward and fucked deep down inside the saliva filled cavern of her mouth. It throbbed there like a heartbeat in its hotly clasping liquid warmth a moment, withdrew, and plunged in again.
Jill's lust-distorted brain brushed aside all rational thought, all memories of Bob, including her suspicions and his adultry, and she gave herself completely to her task of being fucked in the mouth, of actually sucking off a man ... an utter stranger whose face she could not even see. No! No, she'd never sucked cock before, she thought hazily, remembering the man's question a few short minutes before. Never! And now it seemed she could never get enough of the stabbing of his swollen penis deep into her throat, as if she could not bear to wait for him to shoot his creamy white sperm, filling her mouth with the searingly pungent male liquid, pouring it down her throat, letting it flood out over her parched lips, dribbling down her dimpled chin while she thrashed in erotic bliss below him.
Madly-insanely, now-she sucked on that rubbery knob, her cheeks of their own volition contracting, tightening around the fleshy staff that moved in and out between her tight, pursed lips like a well-oiled oil rig. And then, suddenly, the man's faceless body above her went into a violent, wild spasm and his abruptly jerking testicles sent the hot stream of thin, milky sperm gushing warmly into her tightly locked mouth, welling up and over her young lips like a fountain of half-whipped cream. Jill gulped to swallow every precious drop, her throat constricting and relaxing in turn to squeeze it dry.
She mewed and cooed and gurgled delightedly as she licked and swished her tongue hotly around the now slowly deflating penis, clinging possessively to it with her elastically ovaled lips in a last desperate effort to prolong the ecstasy for another moment. At last the man grunted and pulled away from her mouth with a wet, sucking sound, and reeled backwards, a thin, glistening strand of his sperm following him away and across the firmly rounded mounds of her shimmeringly covered heaving breasts as Jill's exhausted head sank heavily down onto the pillow once more.
Bob ... In her flummoxed state, sparked by her new-found sexual pleasure, she had responded to this man's perverted attack and forgotten about Bob? What evil demon could have taken control of her body and soul, leading her to this ugly degradation?
With a suppressed sob of utter despair, she collapsed back on the sofa again, burying her face in the cushion. Images of Bob, proud and tender flitted through her mind. She drifted into a light, troubled sleep, the Valium, the heat and the mind-shattering bliss of forced fellatio combining to sweep away her consciousness. The sounds of her attacker stepping back into his clothing was a mere hush in her ears, and she didn't notice when the truck's squeaking brakes grinded to a halt, followed by the heavy slamming of the cab doors.
Jill slept on....