Chapter 1
All her life Helen Scott had been insecure. She had nothing about which to be insecure, nevertheless, insecurity seemed a natural part of her makeup.
To begin with, Helen was five feet tall, not an inch over. Her blonde hair was platinum, almost white, yet with just enough of a hint of sun in it to look blonde rather than silver. She had a small face, oval, with small, wide-set eyes of cerulean blue, a tiny little nose that was straight, and at times red because of Helen's hobby, and a small, heart-shaped mouth.
Helen had one of those curvy bodies with medium-sized breasts, an extremely narrow waist, roller-coaster hips, and slender thighs. She was thirty-six now, herself the mother of a fourteen-year-old boy in military school, married to Andy Scott, the village mechanic. Andy had, at one time or another, owned a service station that had handled gas from every major oil company in America. He was a master mechanic, and that included being able to weld two halves of two different cars of the same make together to make one car.
Andy was the reason Helen had a hobby. That hobby consisted of a fifth of scotch daily, taken over a long interval, so that Helen was able to stay on a high without getting completely swacked. From the night she had been married to Andy, Helen had come to hate her husband, and with good reason. Though he was an amiable sort most of the time, when it came to fucking, he was a total animal.
On their wedding night he had raped her, and fucking hadn't varied one iota since then. This morning had been a perfect example of everything in Andy that Helen hated.
She had come from the bathroom after a shower, wearing one of her hip-length nighties. Having lived with Andy so long, she was certain the sight of her near-nakedness didn't bother him. Now and again he got the crazies, but usually the sight of her didn't disturb him. It had been almost a month since he had fucked her, and though Helen hated sex, herself, she loved the smooth feel of the sensual material against her skin. She was totally naked under it, and the pressure had her completely aroused.
Stepping into the bedroom, she saw Andy, and from the way he was staring at her while sitting up in bed, she knew what was going on in his runty mind. Andy was short, about five-feet-six, if that much, squat, chunky, with round cheeks, short-cropped black hair that was turning gray, and a small mouth. His body was soft and flabby by now, though working as a mechanic kept him from really getting too fat.
His eyes were firmly fastened on the pinkness of her nipples, showing through the filmy nightie she was wearing. He had looked at her in this outfit countless times during the past fifteen years, but he not only looked through her clothing, but her body, as well. But this was one of those mornings when the "urge" was upon him. Suddenly every sensuous detail of her delightful nakedness became lucidly clear to his squinting eyes, from her tiny, swelling nipples, right down to the soft, furry sparse triangle of golden pubic hair that nestled comfortably below her flat belly.
Andy suddenly went crazy, again!
All that mattered to him was getting his rocks off by ramming his already growing, stiffening, hardening length of cock into the pink crater between her tantalizing thighs. She wasn't his wife, but some "thing" to fuck, something he had to have at any cost. Nothing else mattered at such times other than the getting off of his balls.
Helen was still able to hear herself talking to her husband as she looked at him that morning.
"What's wrong?" she had asked.
There had been no verbal response from the man. There never was at such times, she remembered with a shudder. He had merely reached out and grabbed her, a deep animal growl in the depths of his throat, erupting like lava from Vesuvius itself, and he had slammed her roughly onto the mattress beside him while whipping the covers out of the way. He didn't bother removing her fragile nightie, but rather shoved it up around her throat, bunching it there.
"A-Andy, be gentle, n-not like th-this!...." she had gasped as she had pleaded so many times before, and like so many previous times her plea had gone unheeded.
Her cry, as usual, had resounded through the room in terror as he held her clamped down with one hand and ran the other lushly over the lovely contours of her tantalizing body. She resisted as best she could, but he was cruelly gripping and kneading her firm round breasts with hands no longer under the control of a sane mind. Tight puffs of flesh protruded painfully in white bloodless ridges between the man's straining fingers. His mouth had dropped to the budding nipples of her breasts and he chewed hungrily at their tips until he felt the soft and resilient flesh give way and the copper taste of blood had oozed from a slight cut onto his lashing tongue.
"No ... my God ... ohhhhhh ... not like this ... not like this ... don't do this to me, Andy ... n-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o...." she had screamed, but the words had tumbled unheeded, as always, from her tortured lips.
In his madness, the man had held her wildly straining body tightly pressed against the bed. She was imprisoned there by the heavy weight of his tense, hairy chest. As always, he felt like a huge rock lying on top of her. She normally wore her long blonde hair up, but she hadn't had time to care for it, and now it began thrashing helplessly from side to side on the bed, her face contorted with horror, her blue eyes flashing wide with the knowledge that she was about to know pain again. She had begged him more loudly and strongly than ever before, until the sounds pouring from her lips had suddenly become nothing more than a meaningless jumble of words. Now he was ready to pierce her helplessly tight body again.
Ignoring her low-moaning pleas, the man had rolled his heavy weight on top of his wife's slim form, catching her delightful body as her long, slim legs scissored out in a last, desperate effort to escape his brutal assault. As a result, his hips had fallen heavily between her wide-splayed thighs, pinning her buttocks to the bed. The softness of her downy pelvic curls had brushed tantalizingly against his pulsating phallus, arousing and inciting the man all the more to incoherent mumblings of crazed and uncontrollable lust.
The picture of herself as she saw herself in the dresser mirror across the room now flickered through Helen's mind, but as if in slow motion. Her husband's knees had held her slim white thighs wide apart, and he had ground his pelvis solidly into her defenselessly squirming groin. The continued spasmodic twitching of the hollows of her soft inner loins had aroused him to where he had driven his hand between them. He had been searching to place his pulsing cock, striving to reach that goal he hadn't tried for in almost a month, and suddenly, very brutally, he once again had discovered it.
He had jammed his blood-bloated organ between the moistly fleshy lips of her cunt with a lustful moan, shoving it all the way forward into the wetly quivering depths of her sucking vagina. Helen had squealed like a pig as she had always done when Andy did this to her, kicking her legs out insanely in the air in a helpless and futile attempt to escape the cruel impalement, but, as always, her struggles had merely served to worsen what was taking place, and her ears were still filled with the guttural screechings that had been issued by her mouth as the man's rock-solid organ had battered its way into the hot, buttery depths of her somewhat dry vagina, feeling her folds yield to his driving pressure.
At last his pelvis had smacked solidly into her pubic mound, signaling that he was as far in as he was going to go. The funny thing was, Andy was neither long nor thick, but because he was so impatient and went into her while she was still dry, he always hurt her.
The man's rigid column of slender flesh and muscle lay sunk to its limit in the depths of her quiveringly helpless belly. The hot, moist walls of her cunt--barely moist-had wrapped themselves tight around the pulsating hardness.
Knowing he was all the way in, Andy hadn't stopped to rest, not even for a moment. He hadn't given her an opportunity to adjust to the sudden presence of his dagger-like cock in her screaming depths, but had, as always, simply started fucking away, ramming his cock in and out of her seething feminine swamp, waiting for the mired oils to build up and massage his cock and bring him to satisfaction. He fucked her like a dog gone mad. He had but one thought, and that had been to spew his sticky sperm into the deepest part of her where it belonged. He didn't even stop to think that it was odd that Helen had never again become pregnant following the birth of their only son. He didn't know she had gone to a doctor one day, and he had performed a ligation in his office, so that she need never worry about going through the horrors she had suffered while giving birth to Phil, their son.
Andy had vented his lust against Helen's groaning body time and time again, flooding her belly with his lubricant for what seemed like hours before he had finally begun spurting sperm into her. Then it felt like a non-stop lava eruption as one geyser of semen after another poured into her.
Finished, he had rolled off her, belched once, used the nightgown around her neck to wipe off his cock, then had finished getting dressed and had gone off to work, leaving Helen home alone. She had been so upset, she had called in to work telling them she would be out for the day, and had proceeded to dig out a new bottle of scotch. She was in no shape to be a hostess at the restaurant that afternoon.