Chapter 8
The air within the van smelled heavily of musk, fairly twitched with the itch of unsatisfied sex. Mae crooned drunkenly on the mattress, the bottle of Jack Daniels propped up in the goosedown folds of the coverlet rumpled about her body shivering with the dread of passionate need. A sob tore from her throat. Deserted ... utterly deserted by Chet and Paul. Why? Wasn't she a gorgeous-bodied woman, uninhibited and willing to give a man exactly that which made him feel like a man and proud of it? Wouldn't any man give his worldly possessions to see his girl friend's naked, oiled body decorating the glossy folds of a sex magazine?
Wouldn't they? A curtain of honey hair spilled over her shoulders while tears seeped from her eyes. Alone ... alone on the beach in this empty van.
Abruptly, she sniffled and wearily raised her head off the mattress. The moment she heard the scrape of the van door, she twisted her head around. Blue eyes stared drunkenly up at the ceiling under spidery eyelashes.
"Paul ... Paul is that you? I've been-"
The van dipped suspiciously under the weight. A dark shadow of a figure blanketed Mae's naked body, shading it with the dark omen of lust.
"Paul ... oh, Paul ..." she slurred.
A crooked smirk creased her intruder's leathery face. A bony hand raised to his face and his nostrils flared from the scent of fresh sperm sticky in the wadded up skimpiness of a woman's bikini panties.
Chuck took a head-spinning sniff and tossed the panties to the sandy ground outside the door, and turned, prepared, to see her face to face.
Cop cars, like taxis, were never there when you need them, grunted Paul, half-walking, half-jogging, keeping watch over his shoulder for any car that might careen over the hill. Carla, Mae, car hoods slamming in the night, missing campers, woman's hiking boot, knife ... everything congealed like the scattered clues of a Sherlock Holmes movie into something too foreboding to ignore.
The night was stony silent, unresponsive and unyielding. How long had he been walking fifteen, twenty minutes, and not a single vehicle. His only hope lay in the unplotted theft of the old man's liquor which he'd left alongside the road. If the policeman came back for a cup of coffee, certainly the old grocer would complain and send the law after him. God, he'd never thought he'd want to be arrested. What a woman can do to a man!
"Ahhhh ..." Mae's balled up fist flew to her mouth, her wide blue eyes saucered in white-hot fear as she stared up into the flinty eyes of the scarred face man grinning down at her.
"Who-who are you ... please, go away, leave me alone, please ..." she whimpered, raising up on her hands and knees and cowering into the goosedown coverlet, frantically trying to cover her body. His face was horrifying, scarred from cheek to chin and part of his nose was disfigured as if a knife had cleaved it in half. The smell of him was nauseating.
"Don't try nothin', Blondie," he grinned. "Me and my buddy been watchin' you flingin' that hot ass 'round for a day now ... and we intend to get a little ourselves ..." He closed in on her, his bony hand reaching for the knife sheath hanging from his belt. The van light caught the shimmer of a knife blade.
"Ahhhhhh! No ..."
"You shuddup or I'll make ribbons outta that pretty face ... then you'll look like me!" he snarled, placing one knee of his filthy pants on the mattress, his foul breath bathing her face.
"No ... please ..." His eyes were eating her alive and when Chuck worked at the zipper of his pants, real fear so strong she could taste it watered in Mae's mouth. For a moment she thought she was dreaming, this was a nightmare, but no, it was very real. The cold touch of his reptilian hands and (Oh God, she couldn't look at it) his nose, was all too vivid for the imagination.
He yanked down his pants, holding his knife in his teeth, and kicked the dirty fabric over the sandy soles of his army boots. Then he turned to her, and ripped off his shirt. A man accustomed to living on cold beaches needs to become acclimated to cold nights and seldom wears jackets. His thick army jacket had gotten too bloodied from the red-headed camper ... fiesty little bitch she'd been-all fight. Too bad they had to hurt her.
He swung around, completely naked and knelt down on the bed. His long purple-veined cock was partially erect, a pearl of pre-cum oozing from the mushroom like tip.
Mae sobbed, hanging her head, hiding her face behind the blonde curtain of honey hair. "Don't hurt me, please ... I'll do anything ..."
"Don't worry," he grated. "You will!"
"Nooooo!" Rearing up on her haunches, she pushed tear wetted hair from her eyes and spat at him. "No, you won't ... Chet won't let ... Paul won't let you!"
"Forget it, honey. Paul ain't gonna get back here. He ain't got a car and your drunk buddy's all tied up by the fire ... just you and me, and my little buddy here." He wagged the stiffened tube of his penis at her.
Squeezing back tears, Mae glowered at him hatefully. She was being used as a man's toy again. Lord, would it ever change? Only this one meant to hurt her. She whimpered from deep in her soul, imagining her face being ripped to shreds by the knife he held in his hand.
"Now you gonna suck me off? Or do I gotta cut up that pretty face?" He ran the tip of the cold knife blade along her jugular vein. "I cut up plenty of Congs ... don't think I won't do the same to you."
Her blue eyes fell to the hunk of veiny meat dangling between his hirsute thighs. Deep within her a masochistic yearning began to churn within the un-sated depths of her womb.
"I been watchin' ya play with yerself in here, Blondie. I saw ya dippin' yer fingers in yer cunt ..." he chuckled lewdly. "Wouldn't ya rather feel my hard prick boring into that pretty little hole?"
Mae hated herself for thinking it, but she had to admit it would have been far more satisfying (if only she didn't have to look at his face), than her skinny fingers. Some jobs belonged to a man. She closed her eyes, sensing his weight beside her, felt his hairy body touching her satiny one and winced as if the knife blade had plunged into her heart. She felt his bony hands dig into her shoulders and lower her down onto the mattress. To look into his ugly, disfigured face would have been too damning and so she clenched her eyes behind a curtain of hair.
She felt him lifting her head and peeked through the shimmering curtain of hair to see him wadding up the pillows. A lewd chortle broke from his mouth and she felt his naked chest brush over her bronzed breasts as he reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels.
"Mighty nice of ya to leave me some booze ... ain' had J.D. for long time." The sound of liquor gurgling down his throat sounded in her ears. "Ahhh," he smacked his lips and threw the empty bottle to the floor. "Now we gonna get down to some real cock suckin'."
Oh, God, if only he'd just shove that knobbed hulk of meat into her pussy, cum and be done with it? He was going to torture her to the end! With a withering shame burning within her, she realized he knew her shame: he had seen her, a sex-crazed woman, trying to satisfy herself. And he was coming to her rescue. She'd brought this upon herself, she realized in a burst of understanding.
In terrified disbelief, she watched as he lifted a leg over her naked body and positioned himself, straddling her breasts. His knees clamped into her armpits, his throbbing, seeping cock dangling inches from her face. The smell of his musky genitals told her he had orgasmed not long before ... and that she would have to suck the pearls of his sperm still drying on the purple-veined tip. The thought made her wretch in disgust.
"No ... please, cum inside of me ..." she begged. Then in her flirtatious girlish voice: "Push it in my pussy, Blondie'll make you feel sooo good!" The words choked from her baby-soft lips unconvincingly.
"Don't play no games with me, bitch!" In answer, he shook his blood-heavy cock before her eyes. A dribble of its cum flew from the tip, pearling the trembling line of her rosebud lips. "Suck my cock ... or you know what I'll do!"
Mae closed her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to do it. It was too ugly, too demeaning. For once in her life she had to make a stand and defend herself. Rolling her blonde head from side to side, she avoided touching the salty-smelling flesh with her lips. Chuck grabbed her cruelly by the shoulder, digging into her shoulder bones until she swore he'd cracked her clavicle. "Open your mouth, you slut!" Wrapping his bony knuckles in her baby-soft hair, he yanked her off the pillow, mashing her face into his groin.
"Owww! Stop! You're hurting me!" she sobbed, whimpering.
"Open your mouth!"
Slowly, knowing there was no choice, she parted her rosebud lips, trembling from pain and fear. Mortification swept over her, but she obeyed, knowing she must. She closed her succulent lips around the blunt, musky-tasting head of his meaty stalk. The taste of his earlier orgasm lingered, making her nostrils flare and her mouth water. Strangely, however, it wasn't disgusting. Anything was better than having her face lacerated by the knife that sat conveniently in the folds of the blanket. This man was insane; he'd hesitate at nothing.
He shoved his briny-tasting organ between her lips another inch. Despite the horror of her situation, she felt a strangely kindled excitement in knowing that she was acting sluttishly to save herself, instead of destroying herself. That her earlier nymphomaniac experiences with men had been a subconscious act of self-destruction did not strike her just then, but she acted upon that subconscious reality soulfully.
"Lick it ... lick off the cum ... the cum that came gushin' out while I watched ya fingering yerself," he breathed, panting from the thrill of seeing his cock disappear through the blonde-haired lovely lips. For the past day he'd watched her crawling all over the dark-haired man, sneaking off and making anal love, and he'd been carrying around a load of cum that damned near threatened to explode. Steam hissed from his lungs as he pulled it from her lips and growled: "Lick it all over ... lick it nice and clean, Blondie ... and keep them blue eyes on my face so you can see who you're gettin' it from."
Reluctantly, her eyes lifted to his disfigured face, half-blown away by shrapnel in a senseless war that nobody won. She winced.
Chuck's face went tight. "Lick it ... bitch!" he spat. He jerked it in front of her nose. It was hard, so hard the skin was stretched purplishly over its stony surface. Lined with thick veins, it pulsed madly against the tightly drawn skin. Below, his testicles hung pendulously, swollen and heavy with cum. Hesitantly, Mae ran her hot pink tongue over the warm rubbery surface, feeling the blood pulse against her tongue wormishly. Kittenishly, she swabbed it clean with her tongue, then ran it along the underside, a feat she'd prided herself on many times.
As she slaved over his genitals to save her life, she began to feel a strangely eruptive pleasure growing in the pit of her stomach at the idea of saving her own life by acting a slut. Held captive in the van while Chet- (what had happened to him, the drunken creep) ignored her, Paul ignored her, leaving her to save her own soul with the one weapon the Lord had given her-her body, her sensuality.
Deep in the soft bowl of her belly, she could feel a burning heat the only joy left her from her pitiful attempts at satisfying her crying need for attention. She sucked a little harder.
Above her, he trembled from the exquisite sensation of her wet tongue bathing his cock that dangled like a carrot before the horse. "Come on ... lick it, bitch! Lick it like you licked his cock!"
Her blue eyes rose to meet his snappy ones, then quickly lowered; the murderous glint in his eye was too terrifying, too real. In a burst of self-pity, she trailed her velvety tongue back down the veiny pole and ovalled her rosebud lips so that they might slip more easily over the naked, briny-smelling head of his cock. Chuck flicked his strong hips and groaned from deep in his lungs. Then he slid the full eleven inches of his lust-engorged flesh into the wet hole of her mouth and pushed further until it gored down the length of her tongue to bang painfully against the back of her throat. Panic flooded through her and she gagged from the taste of him; his genitals filled her nose. She sucked and slipped her warm tongue up and down the hot tube, nibbling softly at the base with her front teeth.
"AAAAGGGHHH ... Jesus!" he groaned, throwing back his head, exposing the disfigurement that marred him for life openly to her macabre-awakened curiosity. Slowly he rocked his strong hips back and forth, jamming into her ovalled mouth as if it were her cunt. He rammed hard, tearing the breath from her overworked, burning lungs, boring into her throat and pulling out only to shove it harder back down her throat. Her cheeks hollowed on each out stroke, bloated, tears stinging her eyes when he rammed his slippery, cum-tasting penis back down her esophagus.
For Mae sex had been her game; she had been the manipulator, the progenitor, the actor, the director ... calling the shots, barking out the yes and no. Not so now. This was one chess game where she was the pawn. Being held captive in a van and forced to suck a stranger's cock salved the change of roles. Strangely perverse it was for the LA Barbie doll to discover herself the responder instead of instigator. Minute by minute she endured the torture, fearful she might go insane and start screaming ... then he would use the knife. For the sake of her beauty, she must face her fate. As if to prove her acceptance of his mastery, she raised her head and bobbed it up and down while her tongue worked over the rubbery length of cock, licking it, sucking it, giving it all the attention it needed.
Chuck craned his neck and squinted through the van window to where the drunken man lay gagged and roped on the sand near the fire. The man was moving, struggling against his bonds. Chuck grinned, knowing Shorty would soon be joining him to ravish little Blondie's hot-assed body. He glanced down at the flossy, ovalled lips hugging the thick base of his unwashed penis. His jaws meshed, feeling the adrenalin shoot through his body to the cock. Too bad she was so pretty; the world shouldn't be robbed of her pretty face. Like the last two, he didn't want to hurt her, but he wasn't about to be sent back behind bars. A year of being held prisoner in the Viet Cong jungles, fed snake meat and maggoty rice was enough for him.
To distract those thoughts he watched the ridges of soft pink flesh as it pulled back from her gently sucking lips that slipped back inside as he slipped it forward again. A laugh tore from deep in his chest as he mashed his groin into her face until his kinky pubic hairs made a moustache of black in striking contrast to her ivory-haired beauty. The beauty and the beast he thought self-demeaningly. Let her see how it feels to be made a fool of. That thought made him slap his sperm-heavy balls punishingly against her dimpled chin.
She was good, he had to admit that. Her rosebud lips wrapped around his hard prick ... the doll-like features scrunched up while she sucked a rapist turned murderer. His heavy hips rolled in a chin-slapping rhythm as he sawed away, back and forth, back and forth, never quite drawing it all the way out ... then slamming it back to plumb her throat and graze her tonsils. Cruelly, he grabbed the knife and held it in front of her saucered eyes as she sucked with vacuuming pressure. He ran the tip along the arched curve of her cheekbone tauntingly. Tears spurted from Mae's eyes and she sucked with every ounce of self-preserving strength in her body.
"Oh ... ahhh!" His abdominal muscles became steel. "Suck meee!" He bared his teeth and threw back his head and locked his hands around the back of her bobbing head, forcing her to swallow all of his cock. Only a quarter inch of quivering, red-veined skin could be seen around the rim of her wildly sucking lips. He gnashed his teeth, shoving his cock down her throat trying to drown her in cum. It erupted, pulsed and shot out in great salty gulps.
His hands gripped her hair, making her eyes water from the pain of his powerful strokes. Her cheeks were flushed the color of ripe apples as she gulped the briny fluid to keep from drowning. She sucked furiously, yet dribbles of cum seeped from the corners of her ravaged mouth to wet the coverlet below. Finally, he grunted in satiation and his deflated rubbery tube went soft in her cum-filled mouth. The reddened, wormish stalk plopped from her lips. Mae struggled to catch her breath as Chuck's weight collapsed on top of her, his chest rising and falling from the labor of breathing.
Chet ... Paul somebody come help me! her mind pleaded. Get this creature off of me! Yet she dare not move, fearing one jarring movement would rile him and then she would be as ugly, as deformed as he. Her eyes turned toward the van window. Who was he looking for? Had Chet, the drunken bum, shown signs of life? Damn him, how dare he abandon her like this? Didn't he care?