Chapter 5
Trudy reveled in the incandescent, downy, elegant satisfaction of being thoroughly fucked. The hideous, terrible carnal demon that had possessed her mind and body these past minutes was finally slain and put to rest.
"Did you like that, sis?" Tom was resting beside her, trying to catch his breath.
Trudy nodded, then felt the most terrible black guilt she had ever experienced. Mother of Jesus! She had screwed her own brother! What in heaven's name had possessed her?
"Wait until I rest some," Tom said, "and we'll do it some more."
"Ohhh," Trudy moaned from the anguish in her heart, and rolled off the bed and began donning her clothes. She didn't look at Tom. She couldn't, she was too ashamed.
"Hey!" Tom was startled. "Where are you going? It won't be a moment. I recoup fast. Whatcha doing?"
"I've got to go," Trudy stammered. "Hank might be waiting. He should be done by now."
"Nawww," Tom said. "Come on, there's no hurry. I've screwed mom. She can milk you for an hour and a half without you cumming. Hey!"
Trudy ran from the room. Tom had fucked their mother. Dear God, what kind of a family was this? But how could she talk? She had just screwed her own brother! God! What was next? Was she really a nympho? Was her mother right? Was she really like her mother? No, by God, she answered her own question. She didn't know why what had happened, had happened, but by God, it would damn sure never happen again. Never! She could control her desires.
She went downstairs and wandered around a bit more before Hank, looking flushed but happy in his achievements, bounced down the stairs.
"I can do it!" He hugged Trudy and danced her around the living room. "I know how, now. I can do it! Oh boy. Oh boy!"
Trudy got him away from the house before Tom came downstairs and ran off at the mouth. Hank preened and crowed all the way home as to how he was going to make her beg him to quit, but later, in bed, she begged off with a headache. Hank didn't seem to mind.
"okay," he said, "I'll catch you in the morning, but set the alarm an hour earlier."
Trudy wrestled with the quilt until Hank rolled in his sleep and his warm arms and legs encircled her body and twinged a spark of desire in her belly. Then the blackness of her incest turned to gray, and the gray to an off-white. After all, what had she done that was so terrible? So she had screwed her brother. Big deal! Hadn't her husband screwed Grace? Tit for tat, sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, and all of that stuff. The old sayings were right. She nudged Hank awake and offered her hot lips.
"Make me beg you to quit," she husked. "Give me your beautiful cock."
Hank's eight-inch prick was a disappointment after Tom's enormous prong. Still, he had mastered his quick cumming and was delighting her gluttonous, raging cunt with salacious, short in, pull out, deep in, pull out, short in, pull out steady strokes. At the same time his fiery insistent lips were sucking and nibbling on one of her submissive, yet lascivious breasts. He was sparking captivating, delicious waves of erotic glee throughout her body. It was good! Oh my yes, it was good!
She hunched and helped him ram it deeper into her craving hole. She even splayed her vibrant, satin legs as wide as possible and tipped her cooze to allow their pubes to mesh and grind on the down stroke, but Hank's god damn prick just wasn't reaching her awful itch. Then she remembered Chuck and his magic thumb.
"Put your hands back on my ass, honey," she breathed in his ear, "and squeeze them."
Hank did and it was better. His strong fingers were clutching and grinding at her thrashing, heaving ass hillocks, his scorching lips and sharp teeth were nibbling and biting on one of her erect, pulsating nipples and his iron-flaming horn was pistoning in and out of her love-juice oozing, insatiable, flogging pussy.
"Oohh!" She mini-came. "Oh! Oh!" And she climbed up the slopes of the glorious fuck mountain to the orgasmic apex. "Here. Here!" She reached down and grabbed his hand and set one finger on her quivering, wanting anal entrance. "Put it in me! Put it in me!"
Hank's hard scraping nailed digit popped past her tight ass sphincter, and Trudy went wild.
Hank loved the feel of his wife's tight, grasping, hot, moist ass-hole. It was gloriously, satin soft and squeezed at his finger like a pussy. That was it. That's what it felt like. It felt like he was finger fucking a cunt at the same time he was screwing. And did it ever turn his lovely wife on! He coordinated his finger with the downward strokes of his cock and when he was balls-deep in her, he could actually rub through the thin skin wall and feel his throbbing prick nesting and soaking in her raging, ravenous ravine. The goodness bounced and jingled in his nuts, hardening, lengthening and fattening his prong with luxurious, erogenous, majestic ripples of volatile lust. Good God! He was going to cum!
"Hit me!" he told Trudy. "Slap my face!" And he squeezed down on his ass-cheeks for his new found control.
Trudy was almost at the crest of the intense, glorious, erogenous orgasm and couldn't stop. Hank's glowing flagellum didn't quite reach the centre of her most ecstatic, insatiable orgasm plethora but it was so close! So God awful near that she couldn't have him stop the tremendous, lustful staccato. She squeezed with her perspiring satin thighs and hunch-fucked her salacious, insistent pussy up and down, over his volatile, rock-hard prick.
"No!" Hank strained, then gave in to the shimmering, raging, luxurious spasms of carnal ecstasy and surrendered to the jolts and cum spurts of ecstatic joy. "Oooohhhhh sshhitttt!" He quivered and released his boiling hot load.
The raging, torrid jism splashed into Trudy's glutinous furnace and sent electric bolts of erotic splendour ricocheting throughout her body. But! But, she didn't peak! Her deep inner cravings amplified but did not release. Oh shit! Shit! She bucked up and down against Hank's embedded spigot in desperation for the heavenly mind-blowing release. But it didn't come! It didn't come.
"Oh shit, God damn, but that was good!" Hank released his full weight on her fervent, craving, unfulfilled body and gasped for breath. "Did you like it, honey? Was that better?"
Trudy was tempted to tell him the truth. For one insane, awful moment the bitterness was on her tongue, but she choked it back and went into her act to save his ego. "Yes! Oh yes! That was wonderful, just wonderful." But she felt like crying.
Trudy was still awake when the alarm went off in the morning. The growling, snapping, demanding ache so deep in her womb hadn't allowed her to sleep. She reached out as Hank stood by the bed, stretching, and gave his prick a gentle tug.
"Do you have the time, big boy?" She grinned invitingly.
Hank smiled. "I gave you enough for now, you vixen. Now fix me some eggs and toast so I have enough strength to get through my Sunday golf game." He went into the bathroom to take his shower. Shit and double shit! Him and his god damn weekend golf!
It was a terribly long morning for Trudy. She wandered through the brand-new condominium that Hank had bought her and tried to get her mind off the craving, aching discomfort that nestled so deep in her groin. But what was there to do? Hank had bought everything new. There was nothing to clean, nothing to polish, nothing to redo or fix.
She emptied the dishwasher and cleaned off the sink. She did a small wash, then folded and put the clothes away after the dryer had done its bit. The living room was spotless. The stairway to the bedrooms upstairs was vacuumed. Their bedroom off the main bedroom was shiny clean. Trudy killed a half-hour rearranging her vanity, then stood looking out the upstairs bedroom window in frustrating boredom. Wait! What in the world was that?
Trudy cracked the curtains and stood staring down into the bedroom of their next door neighbours. The man had just come out of the shower and was balls naked! The peeking flushed Trudy in its wickedness but at the same time, amused her. He was older than her father, much older. His hair was gray, his body a pasty sun-starved white with sagging chest muscles and soft overweight arms. He had a pouch. No. She was being kind. He had a belly! It flared out below his chest like a grotesque thirtyor forty-pound weight and looked exactly as if he were pregnant.
Then she saw his soft, hanging penis. Trudy blinked and looked again, straining to believe what couldn't be. It was a monster! The old man was hung like a bull. Oh no. No! The sudden clutching, churning pain in her groin damn near doubled her up. Good God! But it was a lovely, huge hunt of meat.
Memories of Tom's massive, fiery prong forcing its way into her eager, ripe cavern yesterday and of the unholy, out-of-this-world ecstatic rapture caused her a weakness in the knees. "Ohhh," she moaned from the torturous sharp desire that emitted from her womb and cup-grabbed her belching, drooling, palpitating pussy.
She rubbed herself through her dress and felt the glittering incandescent glow of fuck-fever begin to swell and spread throughout her pelvic area. No. She jerked her hand away. She wasn't going to get herself worked up again. It was senseless. Where was no way she could gel satisfaction. All she would do would be to drive herself into an orgasm desire that couldn't be satisfied. She opened her eyes and looked down again for the old man. He was gone.
Damn! Damn! She wanted to fling off her clothes and masturbate herself into a fuck-frenzy. But it wouldn't do any good. After Hank's futile attempt last night and the sight of her neighbour's huge prick, she needed a cock in her now. A large cock, like that old man's or... Tom's! Yes, damn it! What was the matter with her? She had a long cocked brother who would screw her anytime and to hell with the incest bit. Hadn't Hank fucked her mother? Yeah, yeah. Trudy ran to the phone.
"Why, he's out somewhere, honey. It's Sunday," her mother said. "What's the matter?"
"Oh." Trudy tried to sound unconcerned. "It's nothing. I just had something to ask him."
"What?"
"It's nothing, mother. Really. Just forget about it. I've got to go now. See you," and she hung up in greater agitation. Now what could she do? Her stomach was literally tying up in knots and the cramps were awful.
Trudy bounced up the stairs again and peeked hopefully down into her neighbour's window. The old man was there, but was wearing Bermuda shorts. Oh shit! Trudy had to do something. She easied her hand once more to her ache. Ripples of sensuous goodness radiated from her efforts and shattered her willpower.
The hell with it! She took off her dress, off with her panties and jumped on the bed. Her legs were splayed and her urgent tiny hand was rubbing and mashing her aroused, torrid, craving cunt.
As her wee finger staccatoed in and out of her sloppy, charring hot hole, insatiable sparks of churning deliciousness engulfed her body in an elegant harvest of tantalizing lasciviousness. Each touch and rub of her erect, writhing clitoris launched lustful, provocative pangs of erogenous exception from her satin-smooth, cum-slick cavern. It was good, it was bliss, but oh dear God, she wanted to be fucked with a monstrous cock.
"Ohhh! Ohhh!" She mini-came twice, and her clitoris retreated from the jerking, wild orgasms. If only? If only? Then the damn doorbell broke in on her delicious fuck-fantasy and brought her back to the present.
Trudy used a towel to wipe her drooling honey pot and hands, then caught her breath before opening the door. "Yes?" She smiled at the older woman.
"Hello dear." She was in her late fifties or early sixties and had a sweet smile. "I'm Mrs. Lamb, your next door neighbour, and rm. looking for a favor."
"Next door?" Trudy stalled for time to allow her brain to clear of the fuck-fog she had just been in. "You mean over there?" She pointed toward the old man's house.
Mrs. Lamb nodded. "Yes, dear, and I started to make a cake for Albert, but I'm out of eggs and the stores are closed. Could I borrow two from you until tomorrow?"
"Well, sure." Trudy backed away from the door and allowed her in. "Come in. I'll get them."
"Oh, I don't know how to thank you," Mrs. Lamb gushed on the way to the kitchen. "Albert would be so disappointed without his cake. It's his birthday today. He's sixty-seven."
"How nice." Trudy smiled but her mind was racing. Sixty-seven. Was that too old for a man? And even if it wasn't, would his enormous wonderful cock still harden up? And even if it would, how could she get him over here to relieve her terrible ache? Trudy handed Mrs. Lamb the eggs, her mind still racing for a rush, an answer, anything to get the old man here. "Do you need anything else?" she asked, "Milk? Butter?"
"No, dear. Eggs is all, but you saved my day. I just don't know how to thank you" She started out of the house. "Albert will be so happy."
Trudy didn't know why she said anything so stupid, it just came out of her mouth. "Uh wait, Mrs. Lamb. There is something Mr. Lamb can do, if he knows how."
"Yes?" Mrs. Lamb looked quizzical.
"It's ah... It's the toilet." Trudy had heard her mother tell her father this same line many times. "It keeps running on me, and I don't know how to shut it off. So if he could look at it?"
"Of course" Mrs. Lamb smiled. "I'll send him right over." And she went out the door.
Oh lord in heavens! Trudy raced up the stairs to the bathroom. She removed the tank top, as she had seen her mother do, and stood staring at the inner workings. What does she do now? Trudy flushed the toilet and watched the float go down and the water turn itself off when the float rose to a certain level. She lifted the ball-float and the water again began to flow. Ho ho! Trudy bent the float arm upward until the water ran continuously and drained out of the overflow pipe. Then she dashed to her bedroom and watched the Lamb house.
Mr. Lamb came out of his house, still in his Bermuda shorts and carrying some tools in his hand. He looked terribly old, but he was coming over! Now what in the fuck should she do?
She had never deliberately tried to turn on a man in her life. She never had had to. The boys had always made the first move, and up until she married, she merely fended them off. So how did a woman entice a man into bed with her? Mr. Lamb was crossing the sidewalk between their two places.
What was it that turned the boys on? What turned Hank on? Or Chuck? Or Tom? Her body! Of course! She hurriedly stripped off her dress, shoes, anklets, and bra. But what should she wear? Mr. Lamb rang her doorbell.
Oh Lord! She couldn't greet the man naked, but she had to show him enough of her body to turn him on, so what? The doorbell rang again.
"Just a minute," she called and made up her mind. She had to have a man. Mr. Lamb would be her only chance until Hank got home from his golfing. She just couldn't wait that long. She opened her dresser drawer and removed the flimsiest, shortest, see-through nightie she had and slipped it over her glistening, eager, radiant body, then tripped down to open the door.