Chapter 6
Trudy had that weird: sensation she'd known a few days earlier as she entered her kitchen. Something felt that she wasn't alone in the old house and, as before, the feeling wasn't hostile.
"Hey, ghosties, I'm back," she announced softly to the high-ceilinged kitchen. Humming, she unpacked the groceries she had stopped for coming back from the office.
A myriad of thoughts spilled through her mind. All of them were carefree. To have faced up to the way Jack was, to dare dangerous office capers, to go on her own sex quest struck Trudy as very nice indeed. Derk and Jimmy and Bud Sloan. She could cook for Jack, sleep with him, maybe still have sex with him, though they hadn't for over a week now. But with a wide, wide world of eager males, nice males, guys with hang-ups and hurts and huge erections, who needed a bastard like Jack to fulfill her?
She was still humming as she left the kitchen and headed up the service stairs to her bedroom. A shampoo and nap and then she'd start peeling some of the old wallpaper off the outside wall of the hall. The carpenters Bud Sloan was sending had promised early arrival Thursday to begin cutting in the dormer windows. "Watch out for them," Bud had joked. "They're a couple of wild ones." Whatever that meant, thought Trudy, at least they were bound to be good carpenters or they wouldn't be working for Hedling Enterprises.
In her bedroom that sense of an unseen presence was all about her and Trudy felt once again the friendliness of her unseen visitor. Without glancing toward the side of the room where her bed was, she went directly into the bathroom. At the sink she puzzled over dirt marks on the hand towel she normally used and wondered why Jack had mistakenly used hers when his with the "J" was right beside it on the bar. Showed his preoccupation with plans for his dears at the office, she thought cynically.
Doing her hair was a therapy and a way to clear her mind of the bad thoughts, and she bent to the sink, lathering in the Prell and trying to forget the disappointments of having a play-around husband. Some minutes later she was wrapping damp platinum lengths in the towel and swirling it over the top of her head.
"You don't need Mister Rat," she announced to the full-length mirror Jack had mounted on the wall opposite their bed. 'With a super bod you don't need a super rat!" She studied the nearly flawless perfection of her nudity, toying finger-tips along the smooth contour of a golden shoulder, down the feminine grace of her arm, then tracing with both hands up from her navel, through the cleavage of ripe breasts and around the circumference of the globes.
"You have pretty boobies, Mrs. Baker. Ohhhh!" Her shocked stare fixed in the mirror on the room behind her. Above the master bed was a gaping cavity in the ceiling. The trap she'd often asked about and been ignored, was shoved open! Someone was in the house!
Suddenly the idea of friendly spirits of long-ago ghosts became the very real danger of an intruder in her home. Cringing with a sense of nakedness, Trudy dashed back into the bathroom and seized a towel to cover her middle. For a frightened moment she debated locking herself in the bathroom, then realized that was no protection at all. If the place had been broken into by some violent person, the invader would have no problem with the door of a bathroom.
She crossed the bedroom on tiptoe, not knowing why that was necessary, but all at once her silence seemed a must. At the bedside phone she paused, picked up the receiver and looking over her shoulder nervously debated dialing "0" for help. She decided the sound of the dialing could trigger off a disaster, if by chance she was dealing with a dangerous intruder.
"Ohmigoodness!" She gaped at a bare foot just visible at the edge of the bed closest to the wall. "Whatever . . . ! " She darted around the side of the bed and gawked at the inert figure of a very naked Melvin Campbell.
With an exclamation of disbelief she knelt quickly at his side and fingered under his jaw for pulse. Relief! The beat was strong and steady. Only then did the shock about the unclad Mel really grab her. Not only the flood of questions about his presence in the house, the ceiling trap opened over his head, but most hard to absorb of all, the state of his genitals. There was no way to ignore the fact that Mr. Campbell had been on his way to total erection when he was knocked out.
She put the mystery partly together. He'd obviously fallen and banged his head. Hard enough to give himself a goose egg high on the side of his forehead. But what he was doing was a complete mystery.
Abruptly Campbell's benign smile and her memory of his voyeurings from behind his drapes became threatening. Her neighbor might have flipped his wig. She looked up at the access to her attic. Maybe he was the sounds she'd heard the week before. Maybe he was always inside her house when the house was empty except for her. Perhaps this time he was about to work her harm. She'd heard of smiling madmen who hated the guts of sexually attractive females. Jack the Ripper. The Boston Strangler.
But Campbell couldn't be! Or could he?
His facial muscles had a relaxed softness. He was really unconscious. But his penis was half-way to erection. Whatever, he was a mystery and she had better not take him for granted as Mister Nice Neighbor.
Panting and heaving, she wrestled the dead weight form from the floor to the top of the bed. Her mind went back to the many times she with Jack had put on their "martini matinees" for Melvin Campbell. It had been stupid, she knew now. Then it was only a game. She saw a fleeting image of the way Jack had stretched her over his thighs that time, twisting her torso to face the den picture window as he strummed her breasts and her mono for the entertainment of this man and his wife. How she herself had flagged Jack's hard-on saucily before the peepers across the way just because it was a plus in erotic kicks to do so. Now it may have all come home to roost and brought a frustrated neighbor to the breaking point.
Stupid or no, it was not the time for self recrimination. She heard the hint of a groan as she rolled Campbell's naked body onto its back and spread the surprisingly taut-muscled legs and arms apart. It was an emergency and she had to immobilize this potential enemy. Crazy sensations of fear mixed with attraction to that bent column of phallic flesh. She snatched a bedsheet from the linen closet and shredded it in long percale strips, then dashed to the prostrated figure.
In moments she had Campbell her total prisoner. Arms and legs wide stretched and firmly tied by the torn-up sheet, he looked a mixture of ridiculous and attractive.
She'd always wanted to hold a male in bond-age. Her imagination conjured up Mel as a lusted-for member of the opposite sex who had resisted her seduction, whom she had finally captured and forced to her will. Dumb, she concluded, starting to walk from the foot of the bed toward her closet to find clothing.
She had just hooked her bra when the outburst came. "Huh . . . hey, what the . . . help!"
Trudy stepped around the corner of her dressing alcove and stood staring at her neighbor. "And what do you want help for, Mister Camp-bell?" she demanded harshly. "Want to be let go to attack me?"
"Oh, good God, no, Trudy! Trudy, please! You gotta believe me I I didn't mean any harm. Not to you, not to anybody."
The phone seemed like a good idea and she walked determinedly to the bedside table opposite the side where he was held by the sheer ties. "Since there's no harm to anybody, then you won't care if I ask the Stamford police to hurry out here." She fingered the dial as if she knew the number by heart.
"Aw, for Chrissakes, Trudy, don't call the cops!" It was a different Melvin Campbell than she ever had heard before. This man was desperate, but still strong willed and fiercely male. That other Mel was an early retiree, a wife-dominated Mister Milquetoast. This one was a trapped wild-cat. She felt very much the predatory tigress of the jungle as she stepped across the bedroom glaring at the helpless, strapped-down nakedness, which wore a now hopelessly stiffened cock that speared proudly at the ceiling.
"You see!" she stormed, pointing an accusing finger at the evidence, which trembled and pendulumed in an awkward half swing, seeming to grow longer in spite of the terror of its owner. "You broke and entered my home. I could kill you for that and the newspapers would give me a headline for my courage." She hovered over the prone figure, looking down at wildly dilated eyes.
Inside she felt a little twinge of pity for Mel Campbell. He was horribly embarrassed that she'd caught him at whatever he was doing. Whatever that was, however dangerous he might be under that gentle exterior, he was no longer a threat. He was slave to the will of that erect tower at his groin.
"Tell me some kind of sensible story, Melvin Campbell." She dropped to her knees and leaned across the edge of the bed to hide the obviously disturbing points of her anatomy from him. "Tell me something I can believe about why you're here like this, why that trap door is open . . . why, Melvin? Why?"
He jerked his head away to stare at the far wall and she waited for his answer. "You better call the cops after all," he said hoarsely. "Nothing I say's going to make it any better for me. And you're damned smart to have me tied down, too!"
It was a startling turn in attitude. Not back to the old Milquetoast, but not Mister Defeated, either.
"Why am I damned smart to have you tied down?" She stood as she asked and walked over to the phone table to see if he would turn his head away from her again. He glared arrogantly.
"Because you know and everybody who knows me knows I could plow you right through this mattress and have you beggin' me to quit. You know and I know that your two-timing husband couldn't hold a candle to sixty-year-old Melvin Campbell."
Trudy's memory washed back over the days since she first began to suspect some other presence in her home. "Something tells me you know quite a bit about goings on in this house," she said, groping for the last accusation she could find, but feeling a growing interest in the unrepentant hard-on leaping proudly in spite of Mel's captive state. The man plainly felt no fear of her or the consequence of his being taken in the Baker mansion.
Blackmail! The sting of it stormed her peace of mind. If Campbell had been lurking some-where in the house . . . maybe even up in the attic . . . he could easily have overheard much. The wildness yesterday with Bud Sloan or phone conversations like the one with Jimmy. Her next door neighbor could have incredible power to embarass her. Power that could hurt if she was going to be driven to divorce Jack.
"You're boasting, Mel." She stared across the satin spread at the outspread nakedness. "You couldn't match Jack's endurance. You're thirty years older." She hoped he felt the taunt. "Besides, you're really saying' something else. Like maybe little Trudy better cooperate or you can tell a few stories?"
Mel chuckled evilly. "Oh, there we go. Little Miss Muffet's up on her tuffet. So you really think I'd spoil your fun with that tall drink of water--what's his name?--Sloan, Bud Sloan. Trudy girl, really. Even in the foyer downstairs? Isn't it more fun on the mattress?" He rocked against his bonds and the horny barrel of his cock rocked in time with his body movement. "Don't sweat it. I can keep secrets, too."
Relief rolled through Trudy. She never had re-ally known the man next door, but what she'd seen said he was nice. What she hadn't seen, she gawked at now. Mel sucked in his gut to stop the swinging of his cock and now his stomach was a concave hollow instead of the slightly puffy paunch.
"Control," he chortled, watching her eyes. "I hold in my diaphragm for thirty seconds and it chokes off the blood in my erection. Watch that tip, if you want to see a real stud!"
The man was right. As he continued to suck it in, the glans darkened to nearly purple and the cap became a grotesquely swollen mushroom top-ping a very impressive stalk of man-flesh. In spite of herself and of wanting to neutralize the feeling of desire for him, Trudy was bubbling with want.
"You're going to explode!" She fiddled under long, still damp lengths of platinum for her bra snaps. "You're going to come apart in about ten seconds."
She kicked her scanty panties from her foot and climbed across the bed and over his leg, kneeing quickly to position astride his hips. "You're my prisoner, Mr. Melvin Campbell. I'm your guard and I am going to rape you and take everything you have to offer."
"You'll quit first," warned Mel as she squirmed to a point that put her warm labial slit against the knobby crown of his erection "I'll bet you anything you'll beg for mercy or you'll quit."
"Talk's cheap!" She eased down and. felt the heat of his want start to spread through the threshold of her vagina. "You want to bet? Okay. Betcha . . . how much . . . "
His eyes were fierce and full on her face. "It won't be a money bet, but I will bet you this. You'll not let them tear out the inner wall of your upstairs hall here when they renovate you."
"Why not?" Light was dawning slowly about Mel's purposes.
"So's . I can still get in and out without being spotted by Arey or the neighbors when I want to come spy on the prettiest cunt in the world."
"You . . . you mean there's a wayyyeeee . . . " His thrust upward from the bed drove his thick phallus deep into her surprised vagina, possessing . cramming . . . forcing instant climax as it smashed past her clitoris.
She went rigid in a helpless attempt to stop the paroxysm of her climax, but it stormed through her body. For a second, wide-eyed innocence stared down at the captive on the crimson spread, then as her climax spread to every nerve and commandeered all her senses, she made no effort to keep control.
Mel, freezing his groin muscles against letting go his own orgasm, stared at the proud female impaled on his cock. Wild pride of youth, he thought, urging himself up again and again to force her into copulation rhythm. She resisted, drawing her shoulders back proudly, forcing the superlative breasts to jut feverishly from her front, hard-nippled want crowning their ripe drama. To Campbell the globes seemed even fuller than ever.
The low-keyed orgasm went suddenly wild through Trudy, surfacing from down under. Mel watched a film come over her eyes as her vision blurred. The surprised look of conquered female expired with the impact of her climax frenzy. Long lashes closed over her wondering, disbelieving eyes and he watched her head loll far back on her shoulders. She shuddered through the most complete surrender to orgasm Mel ever had seen in his many conquests.
"Ohhhh, Godddd! Come! Damn you, come!" she shrieked at the ceiling as she gave herself to the hurricane emotion of spunk madness. But Mel wouldn't. He knew he wouldn't, not till he was ready to. If he had been forty years younger, she'd feel the hot barrage of his semen now and again and again. But today he was going to milk this maid till she was spent and exhausted and begging him to stop. Only then would he ejaculate.
The force of her coming whipped Trudy with new need, but, as her spasms slowed, Mel stopped thrusting from the mattress. It was the perfect torture. She writhed on the in-driven flesh spike to make him renew the coital humping.
"Damn you!" she hissed. "You don't dare! You can't hold back this time."
"You watch an old man." Campbell ground up-ward, arching his back rigidly from the bed and supporting her weight at the apex of his body pyramid as if it were no weight at all. The move drove his cock to total penetration and, as mound ground against mound, Trudy was in orgasm again.
This time he held her aloft atop the curve of his body, steeling himself against the temptation to let fly, watching her agonized squirming and contorting against her violent spunk sensations. Her cunt muscles were in relentless assault against the buried cock shaft, but the stakes were too high for Mel to let go. He forced himself to think of other things, even as she squealed frantic little come cries and begged him to finish.
Instead, he ram-rodded her torrid body still higher, gaping at the animated straining of her breasts and the deep concavity of her midriff. Her hair, still damp from the shampoo, clung to the sides of her face and she looked like a different person than the Trudy Baker he had many times ogled from afar.
"You!" she gasped. "Oh, you . . . you beast!"
She tumbled from the crest of the little hillock of his body and lay breathing erratically at his side, glaring as she tried to recover stability and balance.
"Suck you . . . I'll suck you off, beast!" She flung herself across his middle and her mouth was a thirsty animal on his cock. With a thousand stolen affairs away from Ariadne during his marriage, Mel was a specialist in stalling coming. But not in fellatio.
She munched and siphoned the hyper-sensitized cock shaft and sucked on the fat cone, murmuring gratitude for its taste, forcing the man's fore-skin to and fro to bare the bright red cap. It was the feeling of his prepuce flesh sliding over the horny, protruding ledge of the crown that began to tear it with Campbell.
Trudy sensed victory. His body was starting to tremble and her eyes raised from her preoccupation with his cock. Confident and calculating. She dragged his prick from her lips and held it critically between thumb and forefinger to let him see her saliva drool along the gleaming cone. Then, aware that his glazed stare was on her oral action, she speared at his glans ledge with a stiff tongue, electrifying a million erotic nerves under the ledge. With tantalizing deliberateness she licked slowly around the circumference of his prick cap and, when his eyes closed, trying to shut out the sight, she popped the fat crown back into her mouth.
"Don't . . . for God's sake . . . slow down!" he begged, but Trudy wasn't up for listening.
"Shoot it down my throat!" she taunted. "Make it spurt out my nipples!"
"Awwwhhhgg!" He was spasm-rocked as the orgasm grabbed and his ejaculation stormed freely into her mouth. "Take it! Yesssss!"
It was over.
With a suddenness that stunned them both, the climax stopped and Trudy rolled free of the man. Lying on her back, sucking deep breaths, she looked across the bed at one she was sure she had just conquered in a sex wager.
At least she could be a noble winner, she decided, rolling to her tummy and reaching for the sheet ties that held him prisoner.
No way to say what she simply took for granted. A' man of sixty was good for one shot every once in awhile. Maybe every few weeks, if he was hot.
His eyes never left her face as she crawled from arm to arm, then from ankle to ankle, re-leasing him. "Aren't you still afraid I'll do you violence?"
"You already have." She rested back on the palms of her hands, looking down her front at the brazen display she was allowing of herself. Not caring. He'd already been into the personal part of her, why hide it now? "You know I am the winner of our little contest."
"Oh?" Mel's grin was disarming. "Not by the rules I heard you spell out. You said something about whoever quit. I don't remember quitting."
"No, but he quit and I . . . ohhh, no fair!" She squirmed in a frenzy to escape his arm as the sight of his reawakening penis stormed her vision.
Mel held her immobilized from flight as his cock climbed from his crotch. It was what she saw deep in his eyes that stopped any interest in her in wanting to escape. Made her unresisting as the man dragged her back to his side and rolled her to her back.
He was tender and firm at the same time. He was brazen but he was loving. She stared at the passion in his face and saw beyond it. He was what she had always thought him to be--a nice guy. If she should really not want it, protest or order him out, Mel would go.
"You're a stinker, Mel!"
He stopped midpoint creeping across her pressed together thighs. "Whoever quits or begs for mercy, right? Strictly according to your rules."
"But you know how to hold back."
"Don't most men?"
"Not the ones I've known." She squirmed saucily upward and her pubes was warm against his drooping testicles. "But you haven't really had a test. You were in an ideal situation. On your back, not having to do anything but stay hard. I did all the moving."
"You think I'd blow it if it was normal copulating--with me the aggressive one, huh?
"I'm sure of it." She was wriggling beneath him, trying to spread her thighs under the trap of his legs and he let her. "You just go wild with my bod. Do everything you've always wanted to, watchin' from behind your dumb old drapes."
"Remember who asked!" He angled his ram-pant flesh through the snug valley and stroked eagerly into her cunt cleft.
Again, just as the first time, Trudy was instantly snared by her orgasm. He felt the spasm-gripped vaginal muscles clawing for his cock to join the climax and he steeled against the desire to give in to it. Grinding into her writhing shapeliness, filling her passion center with demanding horny man, he gave Trudy no chance to catch her breath. As he felt the crest of the first orgasm pass, he drove unrelentingly to push her quickly toward the next.
It went that way through still a third panting finish for a now possessed Trudy. When he felt the slowing of her muscle convulsions, he pulled free of an embrace that had grown tighter and tighter, rolled to his back and grinned evilly at the sight: Breasts rising and falling in response to the breathless effort to fill her lungs, Trudy was a girl in the grip of need. She was female wanting the male possessing her to pour out his wealth. Frantic dilemma. Fierce fulfillment every time Mel stuffed her, but just as fierce a want to feel his semen race.
This time he dragged her to the foot of the bed to take her, bending her across the edge, her lower body helpless as he kneed between her thighs. When he had driven her to gasping climax in that direction, he twisted her in the opposite. Her body, arched at the small of the back, hung over the side and Mel, fists gripping the mattress edge, stared at the explosive breasts bursting boldly from her front as she arched backward, hair tumbling sexily, her arms akimbo.
"You've got the most beautiful boobs in the world, you know." He ground himself through now tenderized pussy flesh, taking care not to drive too hard and topple them both to the floor.
Trudy came violently in what she knew had to be her eighth or ninth orgasm. Gripping Mel's fists at the edge of the bed was the only way she kept from taking them over the side. She felt a strange weary desperation come over her as he let her rest before resuming the coital rhythm. Hovering over her straining torrid nudity, he was entranced by tier animal suppleness. She clung tightly to his hands.
"What are you thinking?" he demanded. "Like surrendering . . . begging me to quit?"
"Ohhhh, Mel! How can you hold back? Look at me. I have to let myself go every time. Like when you have me over the edge like this, I get wild fantasies. Besides, just going bananas to the feel."
"Tell me about fantasies."
She squirmed against the unrelenting hardness of his momentarily motionless cock . "I see us on the edge of a mountain, not my bed. And we're captives. And our guards will push us over the cliff, if we come, and that'll be the last we'll ever be able to do it together. Such a kooky dream but so real! To me, anyway. And with everything else . . . wow!"
The dream world of Trudy Baker was sudden compelling reality to Mel. No fantasy. It might have really been in some primitive society. He with her. The two of them in coital embrace at the edge of the abyss. If he couldn't hold back his coming, he would send them to their deaths. What a way to got Fucking and pouring his come joy into this beautiful creature as they fell.
"Nothing kooky about it at all," he croaked hoarsely, his hips beginning to grind to impale himself more fully in the buttermilk flesh of the perfect voluptuary.
"Would you give me all of yourself, even if it was the last time ever you could be like this?" Her eyes were wild and wonder-filled as they stared into his.
"I'd go that route this minute, if you'd go with me." He was humping with mounting urgency. "Would you, Trudy?"
"Yes . . . oh yes, Mel." Lovely silken thighs were warm against his sides. He felt her legs cross behind his back.
"Do!" she begged. "Oh, show me how it would feel. It's our last time and I'm going to have your juice squirting through me and through me and, Mel . . . Mel . . . you . . . you're comminnnngg!"
He was a clever faker. Pumping feverishly, groaning with inarticulate rapture sounds that accelerated and rose in shrill masculine need, he pistoned himself into her possessed passion pit, but braced against total climax. She was sure he was in orgasm when she arched still more deeply, to topple them past their center of gravity and send them tumbling to the deep pile carpet.
There, locked as one body, she took his demanding thrusts, certain he was ejaculating even while feeling none of the spray of his semen. Age shortened the size of a man's discharge, she'd heard. Mel must have shot most of it in her fellatio and this was a happy reprise without much rain shower.
"Go! Go!" He drove frenziedly against the spasm-driven body, feeling the unyielding firmness of the floor absorbing her buttocks bounce in contrast to the softness of the mattress's absorption.
"Mel, Mel, yes! YES!" She felt the room swim round and rounds Her lover was still rock hard and well past the longest she could imagine a man in discharge. Seconds, not minutes, were a man's climax. Yet he was cramming and thrusting and coming on as madly as their very first act half-an-hour earlier.
"Devil!" she shrieked when her tumbling orgasms quieted briefly. "You devil man! You deceived me! You let me make a fool of myself with my fantasy about falling over cliffs doing it."
"No man ever will make a fool of you." His expression was sober and unsmiling as he looked down. "I just wasn't ready to end it. How do you feel?"
"Spent," she murmured.
"Want to surrender?"
"I've got to. Oh, I don't want to lie. I could go on and on, but you've worn me to a frazzle. Do me one more time after I surrender. Promise?"
"Why?"
"I want to feel you come. You never let it go one time, except when I sucked you. I want to feel it squirt."
Their copulation was slow and gentle. He took her tenderly and wrapped her tightly to his body. His unyielding cock slithered in and out in a lazy commanding way, feeling her trembling build-up. She felt his time nearing and knew that this time it was going to happen.
"Oh . . . oh, Mel, Please hurry! I want to be with you when it . . . eeeeehhh!"
She was a frenzied female, driving in urgent demand for the gift as her climax rifled to every erotic point of her body. Suddenly, just as she peaked, the warm cannonade of his semen dashed deep into her vagina. And, abruptly, it was finished.
With a deep sigh of total contentment, Trudy lay back and stretched in satisfaction. "Now there's a man no woman will forget, once she's been had by him."
"I've got news for you, Trudy."
"What?"
"It was a bet. You lost. You'll probably be in trouble with that man again some day."
"What do you think of me, Melvin Campbell?" she demanded unexpectedly. "As bad as I bet you do?"
"Don't make bets," he said soberly. "You bet wrong when you jump to conclusions. You worry I think you're the neighborhood nymph or some-thing. Your eyes say so, Trudy. Well, I don't."
"What then?"
"I think you're a wonderfully highly-sexed girl who needs a huge amount of loving and whom I respect as a lady. That's who I think you are. And something else. Nobody, but nobody has ever taken my semen and drunk it. You did and you really honored this old goat."
"Sweet old goat," whispered Trudy, turning her head to hide the moisture at the corners of her eyes. "Please go. I think I want to sleep awhile now, dear man. You better fix that thing over my head before Jack comes back and sees that it's actually a trap door that goes some-where. But don't seal it shut"
"Why not? You mean I can come visit again?"
"Mel, you can come any time you want. I don't care if I'm with someone or not. I don't care if you think I'm overdosing on sex or not. I think you are a very special man and a person I always want to have near."
"You can trust me?"
"You've got too many of my secrets not to trust. And if you ever told, I'd know I had it coming." She threw her arms around him and kissed him urgently and passionately. "I've got this hurt in me now. Jack is cheating. I really don't mind his playing with other girls, if he'd be honest. I wanted revenge at first. Now it's sex I want. You won't hate it, if you see some other man taking me?"
"Of course. But I'll want it for you, too, if you want it."
"Bye, Mel." She watched him climb up to close the trap door.