Chapter 1
The lovely brunette was on her knees, crouched between Matt's widespread legs, feasting with wild pleasure.
"That's it, Stell, show them how it's done," Matt said.
Estelle's mouth opened wide, her eyes gleaming with desire. She took a second to stare directly at Matt's huge, hardened cock, which arched up between his legs, swollen and swaying. Her hands lovingly caressed up and down his hairy legs. She smiled with lewd pleasure as she sipped gently at the pulsing tip of it with her loving tongue. Then she took the whole of it into the warm, moist circle of her red lips, clamping firmly and wetly around the throbbing head, nursing lovingly on it. As she sucked, her hands gripped his ass, pulling him up closer to her face, as her tongue made hot circles over the heated, smooth surface of the meat and she moaned into it, "Mmmmmmm."
Estelle's slender hands moved and slid teasingly around Matt's hairy thighs. Her fingers began to toy with his swollen balls. There was lust and pleasure and cruelty steaming out of her wide eyes.
"That's enough, baby. It's 'Lady' Evelyn's turn now," Matt said, smiling across the room at Evelyn.
Evelyn's eyes widened.
An inadvertent shudder ran the length of her body as she sat there in the armchair, in the languorous pose he had compelled her to assume -her skirt drawn high above the gartered expanse of thigh, her legs widespread to reveal her panties. Evelyn attempted to avoid his gaze, but despite herself, despite every ounce of will she could muster, she found herself returning to those scarcely perceptible glacial gray eyes veiled by the weary droop of heavy lids. Eyes as deep cleft in the granite face as those in a piece of Greek statuary of antiquity, the shadow of the brow obscuring all but the reflected gleam of light that made the pupils appear almost feverishly aware of every action, gesture, movement. She strained to bring her legs together, but she had earlier been forewarned by the demoniacal ruthlessness of his temper when he had pressed a bared blade against Harry's chest to compel him to have intercourse with the nymphomaniacal brunette who now sat observing the ritual with a glittering anticipation.
Harry had cautioned his wife, as soon as these two had burst into their attractive suburban household to take refuge from the pursuing police, "Just do as they say. They don't look very rational to me." And, again, when they were prepared, hours later, to leave, announcing that Evelyn would have to come along as a hostage until they cleared the environs to the town. "No mock heroics for the sake of virtue, Evelyn," he had said. There was an underlying implication of something deeper in their own relationship, and from the hint of the twisted lip of her captor, Evelyn realized he had not missed the nuance.
Matt, as the brunette called the captor, now arose from the edge of the bed, smoking one cigarette after another, and fixating his gaze between her legs. His step was toward Evelyn, and the gaudily made-up brunette, who was a theatrical stereotype of a stripper, leaned forward in her chair with an unconcealed relish. "Take her, Matt, take her," she said, with quickening excitement in her voice, but his sudden darting glance acted upon her as a physical blow, and she quickly fell silent. Evelyn could feel the thudding in her chest and the stab of fear that almost totally overcame her stinging mortification at her exposure.
Raised by grandparents in an atmosphere of aristocratic wealth and the most formal of proprieties, and later sent to a convent school, Evelyn had rationalized that part of her nature as a necessary evil and cast over her womanly attributes an aloof and patrician coldness. Before their marriage, Harry, a widower in his early forties with a teenage daughter, affectionately called Evelyn his swan. After marriage, the en clearing expression had become "my virtuous white swan." An inadvertent glimpse of cleavage in a decollete gown would bring the color to her face and the exposure of knees in exiting from cars or taxicabs brought her moments of obvious discomfiture. This man knows that. He sensed it from the first moment he saw me, Evelyn realized.
Now Matt had crowded his cock back into his pants. Then, loose-gaited and in his characteristic slouch, Matt positioned himself before her. He drew her up to a standing position with a gesture, and Evelyn wondered at her own permissiveness, attributing it as an afterthought to her resolve to maintain her composure at whatever cost, not to give him the satisfaction of a struggling, demeaning, pleading resistance. His hand reached over her shoulder and drew down the zipper in the back of her dress in one even downward stroke. Evelyn steeled herself for her ordeal, determined to show him unmistakably that she could be violated but not possessed. She felt a revulsion against the recollected phrase-Harry had used it-and she suddenly felt herself hating her husband for allowing the events to transpire without any show of resistance. "You don't strike at a lethal weapon and you don't reason with insanity," was his admonition. Evelyn wondered at her own sudden hostility. After all, these were the qualities she was attracted to and chose to live by in fulfilling the role of a young, patrician beauty to the manor born.
The hard ends of his fingers drew the dress down over her shoulders, and without bothering to disengage the hooks from the tightly fitting elastic of her brassiere, he pulled the garment down to reveal her breasts. He made no overt move to touch the finely contoured symmetry, but her skin, delicately white and flawless from three-times-weekly massage and sauna treatments, prickled at his expressionless gaze, her roseate nipples stiffening into deepening crimson darts. The dress dropped to the floor and the slip followed, and now his hands were scaling the panties down over her hips, leaving her before him in the pink garter belt holding to the sheen of nylon over her long, well-formed limbs of a hosiery mannequin, tapering to fashionable ankles and insteps encased in custom-fitted pumps with three-inch heels. Evelyn had once refused to return to the country club following an incident in which she had overheard a man pointedly refer to her, in an aside, as having "gorgeous legs with the get-up of a high-price call girl." Harry had only laughed and tried to dismiss the entire episode.
Matt stepped back slightly, his face still impassive. His fingers began to undo the tight black belt drawn through his trousers. Evelyn heard the sound of the undone zipper and forced herself to look away from the fumbling hands that were drawing out his prick. Now, she thought, now. After several stops in assorted hotels and motels along the way, in which he had perversely tormented her by forcing her to sit in exposing positions before him. Now it would happen.
Matt's cock, swelling again to monstrous size and fisted in his strong hand, nudged against her. She discovered that instead of fear she was beset with determination to demonstrate her invulnerability, even in the most intimate encounter. He removed his trousers and his jockey shorts. The nymphomaniacal brunette, now unable to contain herself, exposed herself to the waist and was thrusting her hand over her big nipples with quickening insistence. Evelyn felt the pressure of Matt's hands on her shoulders pressing her down and backward on the bed. She allowed herself to fall back unresistant, and she endured the stroking of his hands on the smooth globes of her buttocks as he raised her legs. Then she felt the hot impress of his body, the remotest contact of his masculinity at the threshold of her loins.
Evelyn tensed for the lancing thrust that was soon to come. He remained there for several seconds until her still averted gaze darted back to scan his face, an act he had obviously been awaiting. And with an unmasked contempt, he straightened up and allowed her legs to fall. With one hand, he seized her behind her neck, and in a gesture of brusque command began to bring her forward and down until she found herself kneeling on the floor for him at the level of his waist. Although she was twenty-seven years of age and had been married for four, the only mature, nude male she had seen was her own husband. "Give it one welcoming kiss before I fuck you with it," he demanded. Her lips barely touched it before he threw her on her back and wedged it into her cunt with one heavy, invading slide of meat-against-meat.
"Aggggg!" Evelyn grunted, half screaming in pain and terror-and strange pleasure-as Matt's cock surged into her. The walls of her vagina gave way and her pussy lips stretched wider than they ever had in the past to give entrance to his thick meat. He sucked his breath in sharply as his cock sank in to its hilt, his swollen balls coming to rest against the deep cleft of her buttocks.
"Oh ... ohhhh! Please, please ..." She groaned.
Matt thrilled to feel the walls of her cunt contracting around his peter as it drove all the way into her. She began to tremble and sob with pain and pleasure. Then a new and strange joy swept through her, and she surprisingly thrust her cunt at the meaty plunger and they began to move, undulate together, his cock sliding in and out, very very slowly, completing the rape of this proud and beautiful woman.
Evelyn's thighs were spread wide apart and her legs laced around his waist, as if she had no control of what they did, the heels of her feet kicking with passion at his back, not wanting to, but urging him on all the same. His sticky, hot probe began to tunnel deeper up into her cunt, then slid out again, teasing her.
"Hmmm, you're too much, so nice and warm and tight," he whispered to her as he slowly fucker her. "Is it that you're tight... or that I'm so much bigger than your husband, hmmm?"
She was wet and open. She had to stop herself from screaming with lurid delight. His cock began to skewer and rampage in and out of her throbbing pussy. Her fluttering eyes caught a glimpse of his mouth and a thought streaked through her mind like a hot wind; the suck of those lips and the lick of his tongue between her legs-OH! how that would feel!
Her dilated vagina accepted the assault of his giant prick. She couldn't stop herself from hugging him close and grinding her cunt up and down, meeting his thick meat stroke for stroke. She groaned and sobbed, hardly able to catch her breath. Her body was churning with his, matching the fast tempo of his fucking.
She clenched the muscles of her buttocks together and screwed her ass around and around as she heaved her lovely body at him, loving the raping feel of his flesh diggings deep in the tunnel of her oiling twat. She wanted to scream, "Fuck me! I love it! Ohhhh, you wonderful stud, fuck me harder, faster, faster!" but she didn't dare.
Her pussy melted like butter, warmly on his great scarlet cock, now so reddened and slick with her juices. His meat throbbed deep inside her belly, jumping in there, and she loved it! Her pussy lips were aflame with pain and delicious tingles, as his hands cupped her slick, gyrating buttocks, weighing them, finger-pressing them. His finger sought and found her anus. He thrust it into the tight, puckering tunnel, in up to the first finger-joint. Now his finger began to fuck her with the same rhythm as his cock was stabbing in and out of her flaming, clinging pussy. Her husband, Harry, had never done this! Their lovings had always been careful, matter-of-fact, and invariably under the deliberate cover of darkness which served as a shield to cast over the act an aura of impersonality which made contact only with her defensive outer self, Here, the light of the room was bright, garish, fluorescent, as Matt pulled out of her and, with his hand on top of her head, forced her down, his body like some massive independent plant sprouting its lurid, ripe fruits amid thick, matted foliage. The pungent, sweet-sweat man-smell acted like a soporific on her senses, and she imagined her head and face suddenly disembodied in this unbelievable encounter. Her mouth seemed like a raw, gaping wound. She gasped, pressed back by the weight of his body against the cushioning mattress. She lost all perspective now, all sense of present, engulfed somewhere in a cavernous pit between his large, straining thighs at the mercy of his hunger, threatening to asphyxiate her in its greed ...
Inundated by the blackness of her senses, momentarily cast backward in time to the point where three days before, that lean, grim, unshaven figure had stepped into their home with the showgirl brunette close behind him. Evelyn had just seated herself, and reaching over to turn on the reading lamp had found herself startlingly confronted by the intruder. There was little formidable about his seemingly modest frame and medium proportions, about five feet ten inches tall and deceptively slim, wearing nondescript dark trousers and his shirt open at the collar beneath the loose-fitting black leather jacket. When Harry, sitting at the opposite end of the room reading his newspaper, suddenly rose up at this unexpected presence, his large expansive figure seemed to tower above that of the night visitor. Evelyn's first reaction was that of annoyance at this sudden intrusion. Angered by Harry's puzzling inaction, she demanded angrily, "Get out of here or I'll call the police!"
Matt came up to her and, pressing his fingers against her chest, forced her back into the chair from which she had indignantly arisen. It was not until then that she noted his dead impassivity, the frigid opacity that admitted no sign of human emotion.
"What are you after?" Harry had asked, making no move to attack Matt for the crude physical gesture imposed on his wife.
"We're just going to hang around here for a couple of hours," Matt said in a rasping monotone.
"Until the cops..." Estelle began to interject until Matt's glowering rebuke cut her off.
"As long as everybody relaxes," Matt said, "we'll go like we come, with no problems. Is there anyone else-?" he started to say as Diane, their sixteen-year-old daughter by Harry's first marriage, came bounding into the room with her customarily brash and aggressive manner. Matt's hand moved with serpentilian swiftness, producing a snub-nosed revolver.
"Oh, look at him-Steve McQueen!" exclaimed Diane in a characteristically provocative air, and she continued approaching the center of the room even as Matt's armed hand bade her to hold her steps. With the same incredibly rapid motion, the sound of hand against flesh resounding before the awareness of the action, Matt had backhanded her across the face. She cried out and pitched backward against the wall. Harry still made no move against Matt but instead went to Diane and helped her to her feet, urging her at the same time to make no untoward moves or remarks.
"Check the rooms, Stell," Matt instructed his superabundantly developed female companion. Estelle started walking across the room and deliberately made a wide sweep to move past Harry with exaggerated hip swinging movements which threatened to dislodge the swelling mounds of her backside from the figure-hugging lines of her black jersey dress. She returned with a suggestive smile and stepped across the threshold into another room.
They had made their unannounced appearance at 9:20 P.M. Close to midnight, they remained in the same room, their positions hardly changed. Harry had attempted to engage Matt in conversation, an effort which had been not only ignored but even unacknowledged. Drawing up an armchair toward one of the corners of the room from which he could observe all of the occupants, Matt remained slouched down in it, the weapon loosely gripped in one of his hands and lying on his lap. He seemed thoughtfully withdrawn, but Evelyn noted that the slightest gesture from anyone in the room elicited from him an instant flicker of response.
Diane had remained sullen and indecisive for some time, following Matt's attack. Twice within the period of the passing hours she began to move about restlessly and appeared as if she were going to address Matt with her usual bravado, but her father had managed to dissuade her and return her, once again, quietly to her place. But now she leaped to her feet in unfeigned disgust. "Geez! I can't stand this morgue. Let's turn on the TV-do something!" She pulled from Harry's grasp and strode across the room to the television set, staring challengingly at Matt. He made no move as she turned on the set, and finding nothing on video of interest switched to a rock 'n' roll station on the FM. She stepped back, snapping her fingers and jerking her shoulders in a motion that drew attention to the unencumbered movements of her well-formed breasts not encased by any brassiere beneath a diaphanous peignoir.
"Diane!" her father said, curtly, as he came toward her. But she evaded him and whirled to face Matt brazenly.
"I'm not afraid of you and that cigar-store-Indian expression." She came directly up to him, hands on hips, her face twisted into a derisive smile, her position deliberately provocative. "If you're in trouble and the cops are after you," she shrugged, "I'm not on the cops' side. You can come and go and we won't give you a hard time. So why don't you just loosen up and we can talk and have some fun while you're waiting. Come on," she urged, extending her hands and picking up the beat of the music, "we can even dance."
Matt regarded her with no change of expression. Diane broke into a wild, frenetic twist, throwing her young, supple body into attitudes of abandon, her mocking eyes never leaving Matt's face. Evelyn leaped to her feet and shouted at Diane, in shocked dismay, "Come over here and sit down this very minute!"
Diane, without breaking the rhythmic beat, flung out her derision. "Come on, Mother Superior-join me and we'll give the sexy man some real entertainment." She whirled about, thrusting her hip out and kicking to the side to reveal a full expanse of exposed thigh and something more. Harry came up and grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and brought her, struggling, back to her former position in the room. Angrily, as soon as he released her, she broke away from him again. "Don't try to treat me like Mother Superior," she said, and turning to Matt added, "I know what to do with a man-man, don't I, father dear?"
"Why don't you tell the wooden Indian here how I've been knocked up by a real man-man and had to have a little abortion to save the family and old Mother Superior here from a positively shattering scandal?" At which point, she suddenly dashed across the room toward Matt, peignoir high above her head, exposing herself in complete nudity. "Now, does that look like an itty-bitty girl who needs to be protected?"
Evelyn came at her and began struggling with her to pull her garment down and conceal her nakedness, but Diane tore and scratched at her until Harry came up again to lend his support. Matt stood up and the quiet command of his voice cut through the melee. "That'll be enough of this chicken shit. You can all play Peyton Place some other time." Diane, her peignoir ripped in shreds, took advantage of her release and flung herself against Matt, her arms about his neck. "Take me with you," she pleaded. "Just get me away from here-from her. You can do anything you want to me." And she ground her pelvis against him for emphasis.
Estelle, who had been smoking steadily while reclining drowsily on the couch, her skirt above her thighs, now underwent a dramatic transition. The sight of the lissome, shapely nymphet, stripped and urging herself against Matt, excited her to a state of intense arousal. She sat up quickly, the forgotten cigarette dropping from her fingers, as Matt pried the precociously developed teenager off him. Rejected, Diane lurched away from him and ran toward her room. Matt made no attempt to prevent her. The large brunette came up to him with a startling change in her movements, which were now extremely nervous and constrained. In the same action of backing up against him, she had raised her skirt above her hips to expose her nakedness from the waist down except for the black, theatrically tasseled garter belt. Her hand moving behind her, she reached for the zipper on Matt's trousers. He raised his knee and she stumbled awkwardly forward, falling upon her hands and momentarily exposing a lurid glimpse of her totally unshielded pussy. She raised herself to her feet, her face twisted in agitation. "Please, Matt-you know what it is for me when I get like this. Help me-"
"Knock it off, Stell," Matt said. There was an ominous edge to his voice that made her step back, and she stood there for a moment, indecisively, casting her eyes about the room. When she saw Harry, she went directly up to him. He was seated on the divan, and standing before him she revealed the lush mound of her damp cunt. Harry thrust his hand forward to fend her off as she attempted to plant her knees on either side of him. She struggled to maintain her position, tugging, at the same time, at his trousers, and she turned to Matt, this time her expression imploring. Unaccountable, he stood up, took several steps forward and raised his weapon in Harry's direction. His voice carried an unmistakable note of command. "Relax, buddy-just relax."
Harry blinked his eyes in puzzlement. He offered no further opposition as Estelle stroked him to arousal and leaned forward to bring the full weight of her plenteously endowed body against him. She joined with him quickly and enveloped him wholly with an anguished moan and a deep, submissive sigh. For a long instant after that, she made no movement, and then she began slow undulations like the awakening currents of a smooth sea stirred to a quickening stormy wrath. Harry felt himself engulfed, helplessly at the mercy of a driving, seething, twisting, heaving mound of insatiable flesh.
Stark disbelief rimmed Evelyn's eyes. A strange tumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions possessed her, and then she discovered Matt's eyes upon her. And even as this was taking place, she found herself reading Matt's expression with a troubled urgency. Was it scorn -or desire? No, something else, something subtle and evasive. Something, at that instant, that she had to know.
Estelle's shrill outcry suddenly broke off her thoughts. Evelyn saw the intruder's companion pummeling at Harry, crying out frustrated, and then pulling away, still feverishly aroused. Eyes glazed with desire, the girl cooed, "My, how full your poor balls are, lover. Hmmmm ... what my tight little pussy's gonna do to that fat cock of yours! It's going to fuck it crazy, that's what! You're gonna come like you've never come before."
She slowly began to lower herself down over him, legs straddled, her wet pussy brushing over the hard knob of his prick, teasing it fully awake, painfully hard. Harry shuddered and moaned. She laughed and sighed lewdly. She squeezed his balls with her fingers, making him groan. Her juice-slicked pussy brushed to and fro over the knobby head of his swollen organ. Harry breathed heavily, gasping at the sensuous contact of the oiled lips on his prick, feeling the hard head being rubbed by the open, dripping lips. He felt the maddening brush of her moistened slit, and his on-fire mind silently begged her to pull his cock in.
"I'm gonna give you one hell of a ride, Daddy."
She pressed down slightly. She rubbed her slit more determinedly and rapidly over the rubbery, blunt head, teasing him unmercifully. Slowly, slowly, she pushed her hairy mound down over his straining meat, and it began to disappear into the soft dark puff of hair between her thighs.
"Like the feel of that hot pussy, darling?" she whispered back over her shoulder, her cherry-tipped tits swaying.
She hovered over him, leering, a triumphant smile on her passion-twisted face. Then she began to slowly sink down on his hard pole.
The full, fleshy lips of her pussy parted as it lowered.
She hissed as she sank down over him. He felt himself sliding up into her, and he grunted. The lips and inner walls stretched to give him warm, tightly gripped entrance. Harry sobbed as he felt her inner muscles pulsating around his prick. Slowly and teasingly, she began to grind around and around over him, clenching him inside her like a hot glove. She began to move her hips up and down over his lap, plunging down, lifting up, pivoting, squirming. Greedily, her pussy lips sucked on his swollen flesh. The quivering cheeks of her young, firm buttocks slapped up and down on his thighs as she rode him. Her fists clenched, she began fucking him with greater and greater intensity.
She rocked over him now in an obscene world of uncontrolled lust, pounding her body over his without mercy. The crack of her buttocks was tightly clenched as her cunt tore at his cock. She tightened her moist grip on it and sucked it in deeper and deeper. He drove in and out with long, greased strokes as she rotated over him, her dark hair flying, her eyes closed with pleasure.
She churned over him, questing for more and still more thrills as she used him to her will. Her inner, lubricated muscles contracted tightly around the captive meat. She cried out, cursed him, still driving her ever-moving body over him with quick, rhythmic bendings and straightening of her spine. She arched her back and her breasts danced as she buffeted his body beneath her. She quickened the pace with mounting urgency as her climax approached.
"Fuck me! Fuck me-e-eee!" she screamed.
His aching prick, glistening with her juices, disappeared and reappeared in the clinging lips of her cunt. She squirmed heatedly over him, her eyes now wide and staring into space, unseeing of those that watched, engulfed in her rapture. She groaned as she hunched like a cat over him. A low, animal-like groan came from her moist parted lips.
The room was filled with wet, sucking sounds as her insides ate his cock avidly. Her hairy crotch ground and ground around and down on him, making him dig deeper.
She bucked and twisted, increasing the speed of the man-rape. Harry's neck thickened and reddened as she took him with wild lust. Her body wormed and lashed furiously over him. Her white legs scissored around him, almost grafting that cunt to his wedge, pivoting her hips, drawing on him with intense friction, frantic contractions, fantastic inner suckings.
She was wriggling over him, taking him in and out of her whirlpool of hot flesh, choking his cock upward, seizing and squeezing it, milking it in a tumultuous embrace, arching her back and lifting him up off the chair with him, her hips seeming to churn in a dozen maddening directions at once.
And then her shrill cry split the air as she came. Harry cried out hoarsely as he joined her in the orgasm. And with the flesh of her thighs and belly still quivering from the contact, Estelle reached down between her legs and began to writhe and twist upon her own hand. Matt came up against her from behind without warning and jackknifed her with a hard, downward thrust of his hand upon her back and effected a hard, forceful blow that almost up-ended her. Then, seizing her with one hand encompassing her wrist while with the other he maintained a firm grip upon the revolver pointed in the direction of those he wished to restrain, he commenced a steady, grinding, brutish flagellation. A whimpering outcry with each battering thrust cut through Evelyn with an indescribable agony. She wanted to cry out herself, to bury her head, but she found herself frozen in stupefaction, able only to follow the independent move of her own eyes which were upon Matt-as his, even as he drew the passion-obsessed Estelle to a rising, rousing, fiery climax which left her heaped upon the floor, were on Evelyn ...
Except for the moaning and soft sobbing of the woman who remained on the floor in a tangle of bared and twitching limbs, a stunned silence pervaded the room. Disbelief of the events which had transpired clearly marked the faces of Harry, the incredulous Evelyn, and Diane, who had dropped her feigned air of superciliousness and now remained, hand half raised to her mouth, her eyes wide with astonishment. There was a meaning beyond Matt's obscene exposure, his still distended male instrument, at the same time that his hand clutched the revolver, but its implication eluded her in the emotional rapids which swept over her. Evelyn was aware that in the interval of several hours of this grotesque intercession their lives a change had been wrought. But she did not understand in what way. The silence was sustained until Estelle, composing herself, adjusted her garments and seemed strangely restored, as if nothing untoward had occurred at all. "When are we going to get out of here, Matt?" she asked. "This place is a drag."
Matt shrugged and drew a deep breath. "Now's as good a time as any, I guess."
"Where are we going?" Estelle asked.
Matt's silence was characteristic as he reached for and slipped into his leather jacket. He looked up and said to Harry, "I'm going to have to take one of the women with me, just until we get clear of town." Matt turned in Diane's direction. Her eyes brightened and she leaped to her feet. Evelyn burst out, surprised by the boldness and rage of her own voice, "You won't leave this house with that child."
Matt turned about slowly to face her. "Well, I guess you'll have to come along."
Diane cried out, "No, I'm going! I'm going with him!" She ran toward Matt, and Harry grabbed her by the waist to restrain her. She kicked and flailed her arms and turned, in the full fury of her assault, to Evelyn, as Matt grabbed her by the arm and led her to the front door. "You bitch, you bitch, you mind your own damned business! No, you can't take her, take me-take me!" But the door closed behind them, as the three of them started for the car, and they could still hear the cries of Diane's outraged protest.