Chapter 5
It always happened the same way. Paula Mortom would be sitting in her darkened living room in her beautiful house in Meadow Falls, staring at the wall. She wore a white pant suit with nothing under it, because the young D.A.'s Investigator wanted her to. If she didn't do what Switzer wanted, her whole family would be terribly disgraced her mother, her father, her sister, and herself. She would have to go to jail. He'd told her that.
It was deathly quiet in the house. In these twilight moments Paula sometimes thought she heard her dead husband's voice. He'd been dead over a month now, but she still wasn't used to it.
Then she heard young Switzer's car pull into her driveway and she shuddered. When the elegant bhimes sounded, she answered the door reluctantly. He was young, blond, very masculine. He was in his late twenties and she was not quite thirty-five but he seemed young to her, alien, powerful, strange.
"Did you find the money, Paula?" he asked.
She'd glaced at him once quickly, then dropped her eyes. She shook her head. He took her by the hand firmly and closed the door. He walked her back into the living room. Today there were fewer preliminaries than usual.
"Put your hands on that table, Paula. Both hands."
She gave a sigh but did as he asked. She felt his hands on her waist, undoing her pants. He skinned them down over the graceful flare of her hips. She gave a small gasp as he kneaded her baked buttocks.
She heard the small "click" behind her as he opened the vaseline container and then his fingers greased her crack. She shivered as he worked the greasy stuff between her buttocks. The sensitive nerves around her asshole sent tender flashes up her body.
"Do we-have to-" she begged.
"No," said the young man. "I can take you to the Meadow Falls jail and charge you as an accomplice in your husband's theft of two hundred thousand dollars from the bank. Then it would be all in the papers on TV. We could have a real fancy trial. The Thurston name would be spread all over. Your mother, father and sister would thank you for that."
He had thoroughly greased her crack now and she felt her cunt swell. He didn't touch her cunt but it got juicy anyway, and she felt warm inside. She wished she didn't, but a person was made of flesh, and flesh had to respond to sexual stimulation.
Now she had to press her hands so firmly on the table that the knuckles showed white because he began to go into her. His voice got rheumy and thick with sex excitement.
"God, you've got a fabulous ass, Paula. I never saw such a sexy ass on a female."
He'd pulled apart her rich buttock cheeks and dug his finger into her sphincter. She tried to resist, holding her breath and tensing the muscles of her abdomen, including her ass muscle. She knew it wouldn't do any good, but she always tried to resist.
His finger broke through her seal and dug into her gut. She had to give a gasp of pain and distress at this outrageous penetration of her body. To her, her rectum was the most private, secret part of her body and she felt ashamed to have a man she hardly knew force his fingers right up her butt. But he was a pervert; he loved asses and he especially dug hers. When he was around her, he kept patting and squeezing her cheeks and feeling in her crack. Even when he wasn't touching her, he kept his eyes on her rear. Even more embarrassing, he kept talking about it as if it were separate from her, like her house or car.
"So firm-yet it quivers like jelly when you walk. A perfect female shape, with your long wait and then the flare of your sexy mounds, and that mysterious crack. That smooth skin and those uplift lines under each cheek, cheerful and sexy."
That wasn't all. He babbled about how her inner seam looked, all pink and the protecting hairs and the pucker of her hole, and how great it was to lick it, or finger it or fuck into it.
Paula had heard that guys who liked anal sex were partly homo, but it didn't fit Switzer. He liked what he called "girl ass". To Paula this perverted use of the un mentionable part of her body was a trip to hell, as shocking as the sudden death of her husband. It fit the dark, twilight gloom of the living room and the purgatory she lived in.
Her ass was open now. She bent over the table, pants down and his fingers probing into her tender, pink gut tissues. The first few times it had been excruciating. If it hadn't been for the shock of her husband's death, it would've driven her screaming from the house. Today it was no longer a strange situation. He had two fingers up her hole, relaxing her sphincter. She felt pain at the stretching of her tight muscle and the unpleasant fullness of his fingers inside of her. Most of all she felt the extreme tenderness of her flesh and the heat of the friction and-she had to admit is-a sexual feeling that she didn't want to admit.
His pants were down, he was hard. She heard his crooning of delight as he greased his prick with the vaseline. So different from her husband. Switzer was a lecherous, hard young man, eager to use her body. Yet his passion was stronger than the way Richard had been in the past few years. Richard or no other man had ever touched her butt. Her married sex life had been ordinary and average.
Here it came. "Roy," she murmured in desperation and protest as if the use of his name could stop him. She felt the blunt head of his big cock press her sphincter. Then a breathless moment as the big cock head brought pain and then a rush as he shoved his prick into her ass.
"Hah, oh. Toooooo much," she cried softly.
The cock, several inches inside her gut, throbbed its pleasure to the owner.
"Oh, my God, luscious," he moaned. It was weird, the joy he got out of ass-fucking into her. Each time seemed better than the last time to him, she thought. He reached his first peak by holding the bones of her hips tightly and forcing his cock deep in her body. Slowly, slowly, the conquering prick unsealed her very tight, tender asshole, and she felt as if it invaded her body much deeper than if she'd been fucked. It went to the very center of her being, threatening her integrity. His hard, masculine cock meat tore at the very vulnerable center of her being.
He reached up under her to knead her tits, naked under her blouse. Her nipples had to press in erection against those hot palms. His whole body hugged hers as he held her in his act of sodomy, crooning softly at dominating the female through her ass.
She wanted to eject his prick with her strong intestinal muscles, but she only succeeded in giving him pleasure as she struggled briefly and hopelessly against his tight assfuck lock.
"You like it, you quiet bitch," he laughed. His teeth nipped at her neck through the blouse. "Paula Morton, the high class, gracious banker's wife. Beautiful, remote, like some goddam queen. Always in the local society columns. Always so proper and sweet and wholesome, as if your shit doesn't stink. But you like cock in your hot butt. Know why?"
"Oh, Roy," she begged.
"I've trained your ass, honey. You didn't know that, you poor dumb innocent. Those tender membranes have plenty of nerves to be stroked by what comes out-or what goes in. That's because nature wants a crap to feel good, so you'll do it often. Your glory hole really like the slide of my cock these days."
"No, no," she cried, horrified. It was true that she'd gotten used to it, since this was the fifth or sixth time. It was true that it left her cunt that action back there made her clit move and gave her stimulation that way.
"It's about time you come from a prick in your ass," he chuckled. "In time I could train you so you like it either way."
"Oh, nooooo," she wailed.
But he was into his animal now and she had to go with him. He began to fuck her and grunt his pleasure at the tight friction all along his blade. Her sphincter acted as a special ring of pleasure, moving up and down his prick as he fucked and snugging with its tightness.
"Ah, oh, so tight. So wet inside, sweet. Better than your cunt," he went.
She could only groan and grunt at the unwlecome ravishment of her ass.
Today it was more, so much more that it scared her. She found herself tensing her buttocks and fucking back in her pleasure. She would catch herself and try to stop, but the dominating prick was too much for her; presently she would respond to him and fuck back against his prick. She got thrills too, just like regular sex, hot flashes and runs deep in her body. Her cunt was as wet and swollen as if he'd plunged his prick into her there. Her nipples from his love-grip made her upper body glow.
In this same living room that had been her pride and joy, where the elite had sipped brandy and mingled with dignified, upper class pleasure, she was being turned into an animal by perverted sex. She mewed her distress and at the same time felt rich, racing thrills begin to shoot from her calves to her shoulders. "Oh, no," she wailed.
"Why, you bitch," he cried happily. "You're going to come for my cock." He drove her harder and faster, his prick a blazing sex friction inside her body heating up her ass tissues to white hotness. At the same time he ran his long finger inside her cunt, pressing it on her clit.
She cried out in agony. Agony at having to surrender to pleasure. She hated to come for him, but she had no choice. Her muscles slowly locked as she gasped in unbelieving horror and then she paid off for him with rich throbs of her cunt and sphincter, servicing him with female excitement, pleasuring him to know and feel her sexy submission.
"Oh, Jesus, go, you hot-ass cunt," he breathed and she bleated her own embarrassment but kept on clipping and making spasm of her unlocked passion.
Instead of lessening, her spasms of orgasm got stronger. She gave a cry of distress that was almost a sob-because it felt so good. She gave him a half dozen squeezes that made him gasp as his cock felt her sphincter tighten, and rich, lascivious pleasure possessed her whole body. She'd never demonstrated so much pleasure in sex to any man, not even her husband.
"Why, you ass-crazy bitch!" he exulted. "I've found your button."
"No, no."
But he didn't hear her. As she went slack, he came, thrilled to the height of his passion by her deep response. He forced his cock as high in her channel as it would go, froze and gave soft cries of ultimate delight. His jism spumed into her ass, high inside of her. It was so strong it almost felt like an enema, the warm, silken come washing and rinsing in her. She was so weak from her orgasm that she slid off the table and the two of them crumpled to the floor, Roy hanging on her back, his cock still rinsing her body.
They lay there, and she felt she'd reached the nadir of her existence, to be held down on her own living room carpet with an unwanted male prick gushing off in her body.
He didn't stay long after that. He asked her the usual questions about whether she'd searched in new places for the money her husband had stolen and hid before he died in the accident on the lake while fishing. He'd been an official of the Trust Department of the local bank and had dipped into several funds. Roy told her they'd just begun to investigate when Richard had died.
"We know he didn't spend the money. He never left town and he didn't buy anything unusual, or have any stock certificates, or gamble. That means he turned it into cash and hid it somewhere in your house."
She'd known nothing about it. The shock of the investigation came on the heels of the shock of his death and she sometimes thought she'd go mad from the double tragedy.
Fortunately, the bank had hushed it up, hoping to find the money and avoid publicity. She had amply proved she wasn't a part of it, nor had any knowledge of what Richard had done. All she could tell them was that he'd been nervous and irritable for some months before his death.
She'd looked hard for the money. She had to. The bank would file against Richard's estate and take everything she had, including his insurance money if she didn't find it. She'd lose the house, the two Mercedes, everything....
She got her pants back up and faced Roy. Her behind really hurt. It was as if the pain eased during the excitement of anal intercourse, but after it was over it sure left its mark-an ache and a sense of abuse all through her loins.
"So-sometimes I don't think you want me to find the money," she told him. "I think you'd rather do-that disgusting thing to me and keep the case open."
Roy grinned. "Let's say I'm not in a hurry. Neither is the bank. I'm the best man in the state and they know it. As long as I tell 'em we can probably get that money, they'll ride with me. Easily a couple of more months. Maybe more."
"Get out of here!"
"I'm going, I'm going," he said. He purred like a big cat now that he'd made that mind-blowing sperm deposit up her ass. "Keep in touch."
After he left, she wept. Then she went to her bedroom and began to pack. Today's sex had been the final blow. She couldn't submit to any more of his blackmail. She realized he was right about training her rear. Today she'd felt an unholy, savage excitement in having that stiff prick ream her anus. Almost as if part of her had joined with him in the humiliation of her body. Roy Switzer was turning her into a sodomite-a disgusting pervert.
She started to call her sister, Amy, who lived a few blocks away. Amy didn't know any of this, but maybe it was time to tell her. The whole thing was so shocking, after the high reputation the Mortons had, that Paula hadn't been able to say anything to Amy or anyone else. About the missing money. About what Roy did to her. She certainly couldn't tell her mother and father. Her father was a former mayor and headed the Community Fund Drive-he was a local power figure and the scandal would kill him for sure.
Yet she couldn't call Amy. She sat by the telephone and her butt hurt and she cursed the obscene young D.A. investigator. Paula almost never used swear words.
Amy had married a lesser man, an older man, and had no social standing in Meadow Falls. As a result, Amy was jealous of her, and Paula knew if Amy got hold of it Amy would grind Paula's face in the dirt. She might even tip off the newspapers, to see her "bigshot sister" as she called Paula, humiliated, never mind their parents.
Paula finished packing and loaded the silver Mercedes. All she knew was that it was time to leave Meadow Falls, get out of this horrible hell before she went crazy....
After he left Paula Morton, Roy Switzer drove his car down the street and parked it to watch the house. It was dark now and he was far enough away not to be spotted. He made one phone call from his car unit and then waited. 'very shortly fingernails scratched on the glass of the car door and it opened and Amy Lail slid into the passenger door. She wore a chocolate pants suit. Roy marveled again at the fullness of the woman's tits. Amy Lail was not as good-looking as her sister, but she was still quite a sexy dish, somewhat younger. Paula had perfect proportions, shoulders, breasts, waist, belly, thighs and butt. Amy's breasts were too large for her slimmer figure and her ass was too small, but it was a turn-on, perfectly shaped.
"Are you sure she's gonna leave town?" asked Amy.
"I'm sure."
"She tell you?"
"Of course not, nerd-head." He squeezed her thigh. "I know because I'm an expert as to what people do under pressure."
"Maybe she's going to go where the money is."
"No way. She hasn't the faintest idea. But the bank will pull the chain if she shows up missing. I can't afford that."
"You men know it all. I say she's got the money."
"I say you've got the money. You fucked her husband and sweet-talked him into stealing it."
She glared at him. Then she laughed. "You're half right. Richard and I screwed up a storm at his place on the lake. Paula never liked camping. But he never tipped me one word on the money."
"Listen, Amy. As far as I'm concerned you're in this up to your sexy little ass. More than her."
Amy was no Paula. The horny D.A. investigator intrigued her and delighted her. She'd readily agreed to help keep an eye on her sister.
"So why am I here?"
"Two reasons, hot hips. First, if she takes off I want you to follow her."
She complained about that, pointing out that she had a husband who'd soon be home from his filling station looking for dinner. Roy said he'd cover that. Amy's husband knew something was up and was fascinated by Roy's questions. He was a gossipy old man, so Roy hadn't told him what was going on, but Roy knew he'd cooperate.
"So why don't you follow her?"
"Because I've got to see the D.A. tonight and make a report. I don't dare let him or the bank know that your sister's skipped. She won't go far. They never do, leaving on impulse at night. When she grabs a motel for the night, you'll call me at home. By morning I'll relieve you and you can come back."
"Can't you use your own men?"
"Sure," he said cheerfully, "but they can't suck cock like you can, nor would I let 'em. That's the second reason I called you."
Roy had his soft prick out even as he spoke and Amy groaned.
"Oh lover, not just before dinner."
"Appetizer," he grinned. He would've preffered to take down her chocolate pants and get his cock safely up between those hard little buttocks. He hadn't reamed Amy's ass yet, but he would. It excited him to think of sodomizing both sisters and it would be great to do it right after he'd done Paula. But it was too dangerous on the open street.
Amy held his soft cock mass, prick and balls, nd felt her cunt tingle and go wet. Roy was a fabulous stud and she'd eat his cock anytime of the day or night to keep the sex going. When you had an older husband you couldn't afford to be a prude.
She laid across his lap and began to suck the soft cock hard. "Hey, it smells funny. Saaay, you haven't been screwing my sister?"
"Are you crazy? Paula would turn me over to the DA in two seconds and it'd ruin the case. Besides, does it smell like cunt?"
"No."
"I just didn't have time to shower today. Ahhhhhh." Secretly Roy revealed in the thought of Amy sucking his cock right after he'd fucked her sister in the ass. He wasn't quite hot enough yet to fully enjoy it, but wild little Amy would soon take care of that. He slumped forward, spread his legs and watched in fascination as his cock grew hard in the woman's eager mouth. At once he felt those deep, impossible thrills that went with good sex.
Amy loved this prick. To her it had a separate existence from the man it belonged to. The balls were not particularly big but they were always spongy and full, wrinkled and much darker than the rest of him. His nuts in those sacs made her crazy hot. Then there was the shaft, not tapered like her husband's but full and big all the way up. Blue veins grew like miniature snakes when she aroused him. The cock went to jutting iron and yet the skin was so soft and moved so easily over the rigid muscle.
Her mouth fit his cock head wonderfully well.
She got her tongue tight to the underside of his shaft and forced the cock head with its fluted fullness into the arch of her mouth. Then she used a finger to trace the hot sex feelings up from his seam between the balls and up his shaft to where her mouth took over to service the nerve-rich prick head. He loved that action. He actually whimpered as she turned on his whole sex machine in just a few minutes of tight sucking and tonguing.
"God in heaven, you can suck a cock," he muttered, voice thick like he always got in sex.
"Mmmmmmmm."
As usual he loosened her pants and got a hand inside of her panties. She made a protest sound in her throat but she knew it wouldn't do any good. She jumped as he pressed a finger against her asshole. She'd decided he was kind of hung up on asses. He'd swirl his finger around on her button and the first thing she knew he had fingered right inside of her. She didn't like it but it excited her. She wondered if he'd have the nerve to actually fuck her in the ass. Probably not, most guys didn't. Just the same she was going to whisper the idea into his ear one day because she'd always been curious as to what a prick in the ass would feel like.
"Ah!" she gasped as her whole body gave a jerk. His thumb voilated her butt while his finger dug into her cunt. Like a two bole bowling ball, she thought. It startled her and really turned her on.
"Suck, woman!" he commanded.
"Oh, Jesus, don't do that," she begged. "I don't like to be fingered." She held his prick, silky with her saliva and jacked him off. The powerful hard-on throbbed drily and he cooed. He kept up the finger action and she had to roll her loins to the sweeping good feeling.
"Roy, I'm horny. Suck me."
"Fingers will do."
"I can't keep my mind on your prick when you do that."
"What mind, you criminal bitch murderer?"
It was the first time he'd suggested anything like that and it thrilled her and made her hotter. She hadn't killed Richard-what good was a man dead in bed?-and she hadn't been in on the money thing, but she'd wondered if Richard hadn't been killed somehow out on the lake. A silent partner, maybe.
Sex-lovers as they were they quickly adjusted. She ate his cock head and then licked and nibbled greedily down the side of his cock. She gently ate his balls and ate her way up to the other side, only to cap and suck his prick top again while he made hot little buck motions of pleasure and his breath whistled in and out.
When she tired, he worked her with his fingers. He had them so deeply into her that he could pinch against the membrane that separated her cunt from her anal passage and she went dizzy to feel that. She rutted on his fingers, whispering, "Good, hot, ohhhhhh, more."
When she began to plant and show signs of giving up her sexuality he eased off and she had to suck some more. Then he got a hand on her big breasts and she floated off into heaven.
Suddenly, as it always came, she went into her fucked bitch. She tensed and cried out in joy. She brought her legs together, squeezing his fingers on the front seat of his car.
No class, Roy thought, as she felt her loins throb in orgasm. But very sexy. He especially liked the steady, healthy throb of her asshole on his thumb as it harmonized with her quaking cunt. His whole hand up to the wrist was wet with her silken juices, and he felt the sweet goneness of his own sex ecstasy, feeling her come.
"Dee-drink," he gasped.
She barely had enough voluntary power left to cap his prick and cream off his luscious spurts of jism as her orgasm lessened. She thought of molten liquid gold as she drank off his come, so pungent and thick as it burst from his cock. His powerful tension and easing really delighted her as it confirmed her woman's sexuality, making the big, hard male give up his spuming manhood.
Too soon he jerked his prick out of her mouth.
"Hey!" she protested. She wanted to lie there for a while and enjoy the afterglow of the marvelous sex.
"Sorry, baby, but our chick has started to grow wings and fly. There goes the silver Mercedes...."
As Roy had predicted, Paula didn't drive very far that night. Amy hung behind her, driving Roy's car, intrigued by it all. Imagine all this, when a few short weeks ago her life and Paula's had been so dull and ordinary. Amy had a crazy desire to speed up alongside Paula's car and honk and wave, but she didn't. Her resentment against her sister began to settle on her. She drove a Ford, Paula had the Mercedes. She lived on Oak Street, Paula lived on Admiral Way. She bought outfits for thirty dollars, while Paula never put anything on her back worth less than two hundred.
It occurred to Amy that maybe Paula had an accomplice that phe was going to meet and that excited Amy the more. She called Roy when Paula was safely settled in her motel room for the night. She suggested that.
"Don't think so, but who knows? said Roy. "You take a room for the night. I cleared it with Claude. He'll let me drive your car over early and I'll meet you. The DA's quiet, and Claude is all excited about the mystery. So excited it never occurs to him his dear wife might pick up some sex on this trip." Roy laughed his crude laugh.
In some ways Roy turned Amy off, but the idea of getting that hard young prick in her tomorrow pleased her. She found a nearby motel where she could keep an eye on Paula's and settled for the night....
Next day, outside of Louisville, Paula Morton began to feel better. Meadow Falls was a long way behind her. For the first time she felt she might clear out all the jumbled furniture in her mind. She slowed her pace to drift along, and when she saw a hitchhiker up ahead she decided on impulse to stop. It was not a Paula-like act, so it fit her mood of doing things differently.
He was a young man who said his name was "Verne". With his big shoulders, his thick hair and his powerful body, he made her nervous for a few minutes, but then she saw his dreamy eyes and relaxed.
"You can sum up my recent life in three words," he said: "They are: divorced, fired, and broke." He'd been in New York City, trying to make his way as an artist but everything had gone wrong for him. Like Paula he fled failure, but he moved towards his roots not away from them. He came from a small town in Kentucky and was on his way back there.
"I used to work for a railroad there," he told her. "It's a small town but it's a division point. Maybe I can get my old job back and relax and float and figure out how I went wrong."
For people in distress other people's distress is a fine antidote. Paula found herself chatting busily with him, enjoying relief from her own problems. When they came to the turnoff point she decided to leave the main highway and take Verne Hollinger to his small town. He was friendly and polite, not pushy. Best of all, he asked her no questions about herself. She liked that in the young people of today-they didn't immediately dig for information to catalog a person.
Once they left the main highway they meandered over narrow country roads and she enjoyed the relaxation of it.
"Pardon me, Paula. Are you being followed?" he asked. That brought her up sharp; yet when she peered at the car he indicated, she knew it wasn't Switzer's, or any other one she recognized. She relaxed.
"I don't think so, Verne." She'd left in such a hurry that she was sure Roy hadn't had time to catch on.
The town was a pretty little place, located along a railroad track, but set between two green hills with rolling meadows and rich farmlands all around it.
"Might as well head for the Blue Grass Diner." said Verne. "I can buy your lunch for going out of your way to deliver me. It's right across the street from the railroad tracks, not much to look at, but the best food you can get here."
As soon as they got out of the car, a slouching figure in the typical dress of a railroader hailed Verne. Verne called "Excuse me" to Paula and leaped forward to greet his old friend. Not wanting to interrupt the reunion, Paula got out of the Mercedes and drifted towards the diner.
That was when she came face to face with Roy Switzer and Amy, her sister. The car that had seemed to follow her sat right there, obviously a rental job, and Roy and Amy sat in the front seat grinning at her, like a couple of ghouls, tendermeated fish in the ocean, hooked by evil fishermen. The more she fled, the more she was trapped. She stood frozen, her heart beating painfully in her chest, shocked and stunned jerked back to the tragedy and outrage of Meadow Falls.
She reacted instinctively. She turned to run. She ran right between to buildings and started away from the railroad tracks, giving no thought to where she went. She just wanted to get away, get away, get away.
It seemed as if the fates assisted her. Suddenly there was a shattering sound, a thousand times louder than thunder. It stunned her hearing closed off her mind. The force of the explosion lifted her right off the ground and carried her through the air as if she'd acquired the ability to fly. It happened too fast for her to be frightened. She floated for a few seconds in the air and then saw a big stand of bushes coming up to greet her. Then she was in the tangle of branches and leaves, feeling the abrasions of the twigs and the soft shrubbery give way The five railroad cars, filled with propane, exploded and decimated the downtown area of the small town. People and objects were flung away from the explosion's center as if by hurricane. Buildings went down. Fires began to blaze.
To Verne, standing behind a boulder commemorating the town's war dead, it seemed like the huge stone, weighing several tons, just took off and tried to push him through the diner. The explosion actually moved it six feet. His friend, not protected by the stone, disappeared.
When he staggred free and looked around, it seemed as if an atom bomb had hit the town. Everything was burning rubble. Paula was gone; the silver mercedes a pile of junk. The car that had parked behind them had vanished completely. There was a pile of rags that the stunned Verne investigated. He recognized the railroader's overalls but not the mass of flesh that was the body of the friend he'd talked to.
The aftermath had already started. Groans and screams of the injured, excited voices, sirens beginning to wail, and someone in distress cursing "Shit, shit, shit."
It was half hour before Verne found Paula. Dazed and sickened, he still helped the rescue workers as much as he could. A temporary first aid station had been set up, and that was the center of activity. Someone brought Paula in. She looked dazed and there was blood coming from one of her ears. She had some light scratches but seemed to be all right. He fell on her and hugged her as if she were a long-lost friend.
"Paula, my God, I thought you were dead."
"Richard, Richard, I knew you'd come back."
So glad was he to see her that it took him several minutes before he realized that she wasn't quite right in the head. He pushed her forward for one of the doctor's to examine. The doctor checked her out.
"Perfectly okay."
"But she's off her rocker. She thinks I'm somebody else."
"Temporary amnesia. Take her away."
"But, doctor-"
"Son, get the hell out of here with your wife. I've got real serious cases up to my ass. People dying. Your woman is perfectly okay physically. Her mind'll come back when the shock wears off."
He wandered out of the first aid station with Paula on his arms. The woman babbled about the lake and fishing and how glad she was that the news of his death was false.
A sheriffs deputy stopped him. "That your Mercedes, son?"
"No, uh, yes, I mean it belongs to this woman."
"You and your woman better get your stuff outa that wreck and git. The railroad says there's more cars that could blow up. Everybody out of the area."
Paula floated in heaven. She'd had a bad dream that Richard had died in an accident, fishing on a lake. That an evil man had stolen money from his bank and blamed it on him. That was all false. Richard, looking younger, had taken her on that second honeymoon they'd always talked about. There was some trouble about the car and getting their things out, but at last they were in the motel and she flowed into his arms.
"Richard, let's go to bed. I'm so tired, and I need to be loved. Come on, honey."
He looked at her strangely, returned her hug and then eased her, fully clothed, on the bed.
"Okay, Paula. You rest for a minute. I've got to-got to-uh, take a shower."
There were two rooms in the motel. He went into the other room and she sighed in contentment and stripped and curled up on the bed....
Verne Hollister, in the next room, examined the dark packages of heavy plastic he'd found when he gathered Paula's stuff from the wreck. There was more money here than he'd ever seen in his life. Thousands, all in small bills. It had been hidden in the rocker panels of the Mercedes, and it shook him up as much as the explosion. The beautiful, classy woman, the expensive car, and all this money. Was she a dealer, or the girlfriend of one? My God, it was a young fortune.
He could take what he needed and leave right now. The woman was still out of her head, and it wouldn't be like taking all of her money. There was much more than fifty thousand here. He had nothing to hold him here, no family any more, no interests. He'd done his part in helping out in the tragic explosion. It blared on the TV, and outside help had rushed in. The story had put the small town on the map, nationally. In the confusion, he could slip away without being noticed. The only man who'd seen him was dead....
Paula awoke, feeling very good. She had a few scratches that hurt but her hearing had returned and she felt comfortable, lazy and, well, sexy. She lay naked under a blanket in a motel room. She had only the vaguest idea as to how she got here. But a handsome young man sat by the bedside staring down at her anxiously. She smiled at him and lifted her arms.
"Paula, you know I'm not-Richard. Your husband or whoever."
Somehow the fleeing, her meeting Verne, the explosion, had turned things around for her. She no longer felt harrassed, stunned, imprisoned. She just felt good-and sexy.
"I know. You're Verne, the hitchhiker, and I like you very much and I want to be kissed."
He kissed her tentatively and she felt the flames rush up her body. She made her lips soft, opened her mouth and used her tongue. Verne gasped. She reached down for his cock. It wasn't a Paula-act but she didn't quite feel like Paula any more. She felt open, alert and in control of her destiny.
She got her hands inside his pants and felt his sexy cock start to harden. She jogged it gently in her hand, kissing.
"Paula, I wouldn't want you to think I'm interested in your money. Not totally. I mean-" She cut him off: "It's nothing."
All her life Paula had been the sex servant of her men. Her early lovers, then Richard. And finally that gruesome DA investigator, Roy. Now for the first time she felt in charge, potent. Maybe it was the series of shocks she'd had beginning with Richard's death and ending with the explosion. It made her feel that repuation, life itself was fleeting, chancey. The deep, warm feeling of sex, that you remembered.
She watched Verne undress and boldly played with her cunt with one hand and rubbed her sensitive nipples with the other. She gave in to the hot fires of her rising passion in a way she'd never been able to do before.
Verne stood naked before her and stared down at her naked body and her lascivious love of herself. He rolled his eyes in appreciation.
"The money has nothing to do-" he began.
"Forget money, Verne. I have plenty. It means nothing." She opened her arms.
But as he came down on her with his beautiful cock jutting, she felt a prick of a new excitement.
"Fuck my ass, Verne."
"What?"
"Turn me over. Stick your cock up my ass. It turns me on like crazy. You can cunt-fuck me later."
She slid around on her stomach, smiling up at him, seductive, actually flicking her pink tongue. She presented her ass.
Like all highly sexed young men, Verne had always dreamed of fucking into some girl's ass. A guy got curious. And what an ass Paula had. Beautifully shaped, smooth-skinned, supple. He hesitated a second and then mounted her. He pulled apart her buttocks while she crooned in anticipatory excitement. He saw the delicate pink lline of her cunt, and the rounded pucker of her asshole, two inches above. He spread her legs and took a deep breath. Imagine having permission to violate both holes of a beautiful woman like this! Verne suddenly realized that his luck had run full tide.
He dug his cock head into the gleam of Paula's cunt and then bathed her sphincter with her slippery honey. That felt fabulous, again, and again.
Then he got a hand under her soft, sexy belly and dug his cock into her ass pucker, liberally wetted with her cunt juice.
"Ahhh, 'God!" she went. She gave an animal grunt. She forced herself to relax her sphincter and felt his prick enter her with far less distress than the rude Roy had caused her. In fact, it was very exciting to feel the prick violation. Immediately his cock meat began to stimulate the mucous membranes that Roy had trained so well lately.
Sweet rushes surged up her body and she kept gasping and bucking against his cock to get more meat up her tight tail. Verne's eyes bugged out in the sexy sight he saw. Her sphincter swelled and swelled for his cock, expanding incredibly, and he could watch his prick invade her body even as he felt the warmth, the wetness, the sexy friction.
"I'm assfucked!" she cried happily. "You're making my glory hole."
H-laughed and relaxed. Why, assfucking was a new thrill, different and very sexy! Those firmsoft buttocks smoothed on his belly and thighs and tensed and relaxed to make a stronger sensation of fucking into a woman than he'd ever felt before.
"Ah, ooooo, so deeeeep." she chanted. Her tissues thrilled and thrilled as she realized his cock was smaller than Roy's and perfect for her narrow passage. She rocked and rocked, enjoying the mad pleasure of her insanity. He wasn't trained enough to tease her cunt, but she did that for herself, reaching down to stroke her clit and then her fires really burned. She jerked and writhed under him.
"Oh, Verne, you're fucking me crazy. Taaaaaaaaaaaking meeeeeee."
Up, up to glory, and she felt him pick up the steady rhythm as he gave in to the delights of his prick and reamed her masterfully.
"Hah. Hot woman. Hot biiiitch," he breathed, speeding his action.
She clung to those golden moments, rising, rising from one joy filled plateau to the next, each one hotter, more tense. His cock pierced the innermost recesses of her being, and he whipped her to an absolute frenzy. The bed shook, the obscene sounds of prick reaming asshole thrilled her even more.
"Oh, now. Oh, now. NOWWWW! she cried at last.
As she tensed under him, Verne felt like the king of the world. His woman jerked, gasped, keened in a happy-torture voice and began to surrender. Her asshole clipped his cock as firmly as her cunt would have. He gave a great cry of joy. "GO-ING!" he sang.
Boiling jism leaped out from his molten belly to spurt deep in her guts. She throbbed and jerked and cooed. He gripped her in a death grasp and seeded her deeply, gush after gush of relieving, hot come flushed into her body.
"Baby, you know all the tricks," he said lovingly as they relaxed to enjoy the afterglow of their pleasure, still fuck-locked and hugging.
"We've got all night to explore some more," she said happily, drowsily. For the first time in her entire life, Paula felt like an open, mature woman, fully realized sexually....
They made love several more times that night and both fell asleep like two happy children who'd enjoyed super fantasies in real life.
Their awakening was far different. Verne felt a hand shaking his shoulder and when he came out of the drug of sleep he found himself staring into a barrel of a revolver.
"I arrest you for conspiracy in grand theft and for murder," said Roy Switzer, who held the gun.
"Oh, hullo, Amy," said Paul awakening.
Amy, standing behind Roy, said: "So you did have your husband killed."
"Jesus," said Verne. "What have I gotten into?"
"Son," said Roy, "you're into something so bad that it makes terminal cancer look like a slap on the wrist."
At the time of the explosion, Amy and Roy sat in the rental car grinning wickedly at Paula. Roy had used the rental car for fear that Paula would recognize his and Amy's, and it had been easy to follow her to the leisurely pace she drove. Roy felt sure the man Paula picked up was a preplanned meeting of conspirators.
"We'll nail 'em at the next stop," he said, and the next stop was the site of the explosion.
The rental car flew off the ground and sailed over the row of flat buildings that fronted the railroad track. Fortunately, in a small town like this the structures were all one story high. The car floated as if it had wings, turning over in the air twice in a lazy fashion. Then it crashed down into a tree. From the tree it slid gently to the ground. Roy had a scraped knee; Amy received a bump on the nose.
Petrified, the two of them sat there without moving for long, long moments. At last they looked at each other. His face was red, hers was whitd.
"I'll bet you can't do that again," said Amy. Then she began to laugh hysterically....
Roy proved why he was such a good investigator by rising after a few hours sleep and personally searching all the motels around the area, dragging a tired and shocked Amy with him. The sights of yesterday had subdued her.
And they found Verne and Paula. Found them asleep, naked in bed, confirming the conspiracy theory. And in the first room they found all the money....
Now Amy had to sit there and watch Roy count every bill of it. She felt she ought to go in and talk to Paula handcuffed to the bed with that handsome young man, but Roy wouldn't let her.
"We interrogate the suspects later," he told her.
When he was done he sat back: "Two hundred and eighty thousand, five hundred and fifty dollars. All in small, unmarked bills."
"While you counted, I've been sitting here thinking, Roy. My life in Meadow Falls isn't so great. An older husband. He doesn't care about sex any more. We'll never have kids. He spends all his time at that filling station. He hardly knows I exist."
"If you think-"
"You, Roy. You live in a crummy apartment and work for peanuts and get a pat on the head, boosting pretty criminals, until this case came along."
"There's a crime here."
"I don't think so. You can detect all you want, but I don't think that nice young man helped kill Richard. It was an accident, with Richard being all upset and careless the way he was. Verne's just a hitchhiker, like they say."
"The bank-"
"-is insured. They'll give the money back to the losers. Insurance rates go up for us all, but what the hell. I'll never see this much money again in my life."
"They'd hunt us down like dogs, Amy," he explained patiently.
"Wrong. Paula is dead. They'll find her smashed Mercedes. There's all kinds of parts of bodies around. Some won't ever be identified. She was one. The same for us. A totally smashed car with smears of blood. No, my fine detective friend, we're all dead. So figure that one out."
Two days later Roy and Selma Brinks checked into a motel in Omaha. Amy wasn't sure how Roy had managed to get hold of a Meadow Falls paper but he had. The story Amy's father had gotten into the paper was a good whitewash. Roy Switzer, close friend of the Thurston sisters and only incidentally an investigator, had gone with the girls to check out some property that Paula's dead husband had put into escrow which created minor problems for the estate. The deaths of Paula, Amy and Roy were a shock to the town. Most of the article extolled the virtues of the Thurston family.
"Home free," said Roy. "I knew from my investigative work that we could get away with it. You'll have to admit my plan was brilliant."
"You've got a mind like a computer," said Amy. "Let's fuck."
As they crawled naked into bed, Roy turned her on her stomach and Amy said in surprise: "What's this?"
Already his hands patted and squeezed her small, hard buttocks.
"I forgot to tell you that I like ass-fucking," said Roy.
"Fuck my ass? Like candy, you horny bastard." She tried to turn over but he laughed as he held her as she was. He dug his hands into her crack.
"You turn me on, ass-wise, Amy. Most women have soft, gelatine rears. Not you. You've got two sexy mounds, hard as bricks. I can't wait to get my prick in your tail to see how they feel."
Her crack was honey-warm now with her cunt juice. She felt the blunt cock head press cruelly at her opening. "Ahhh, God!"
She wanted to scream. Instead she bit down on her teeth and felt the powerful violation of her hole by his prick. It felt like she was torn into a million pieces.
"I'm going to faint," she called helplessly.
"Such a tight, sexy little piece," he crooned. "Uh, uh, uh." Each grunt was accompanied by thrusts of his cock stretching and opening her ass
"Aiieeeeee," she went, wishing she could faint. It was a pencil, then a poker and then a ballbat that he forced up her rear. Her wounded anus throbbed achingly as he achieved his desire. Then while she clutched her pillow and keened softly he took her full measure. It felt like his prick had cleaved her stomach and ended up somewhere in her lungs.
"Believe it or not, I can train you so you love me. So you beg for it," he told her proudly. His voice sounded distant in her half-fainting condition. She knew then she'd sinned against her family, her society and all mankind and this was her punishment. She'd fallen for a crazy asshound.
Then he rocked his big prick in her, mooning. "Those buttocks, so hard, so smooth, so sexy. Never felt-so terrific!"
It hurt less. It stopped hurting. It felt a little sexy. It felt real sexy. She began to slide her ass under him, enjoying the act she thought was perverted and naughty and therefore very exciting.
"Fuck me. Fuck me till I scream," she said softly, rocking and rising in her sex flames.
"You're fucked, baby. You're fucked," he gasped.
They hung on the edge of the abyss of pleasure. Then, grunting and slobbering into her pillow she came with a gusto, a hearty fullsome tiggering of her cunt and asshole, as she gave up her anal maidenhead, wallowing in the luscious spasms of her total sex equipment.
"Oh, babeeee, you did it," she cried.
Roy held his breath, locked and spurted. He hugged her tight and laid the rich bursts of his excited semen deep, deep in her body.
"Best-everrrrr," he managed, letting the thrilling, relieving bursts seed her. This Amy was going to be one helluva hot ass-fucker when he had her trained.
He missed Paula, of course. He'd trained her up from an ass virgin and he hated to lose her to Verne. But the fact was, his future was in California with the lovely Amy, not Paula. Some day he'd visit Paula and Verne in New England and get more shots at Paula's ass. That would be the way to handle it.
At that precise moment, more than a thousand miles away, Verne's cock shot off in Paula's ass in a New England motel. They'd reached their destination and it was going to be great, buying the art gallery with the hundred thousand Roy had given them. He thought it unfair that the sister and Roy got the biggest share, but on the whole he wasn't going to complain.
Paula felt great. She felt grateful to Roy for having taught her this new form of sex, that she liked more and more. She was also glad she could enjoy it with Verne and his smaller prick. Roy was a little much for her. She also wondered how her dear sister bore up under Roy's determined ass-reaming....
Back in Omaha, Amy felt the big prick in her ass begin to move again.
"I think we go for seconds, Amy," said Roy. "I ain't had much ass lately."
"I always knew there was no Santa Claus," she sighed, hugging her pillow again. "For a while I thought there was, but now I know-oh-dear God-I know there is no-eeeeeee-Santa Claus!"