Chapter 4
Paul Latham eased back into the brown leather armchair and then folded his arms across his chest. She looked especially good this afternoon, he thought, watching as Jennifer Wagner settled herself on the beige couch next to his chair.
For her visit to his office today she had donned an eye-popping pair of fanny-hugging, blood-red bellbottoms and a tight-fitting cream-colored sweater that buttoned down the front. It was a cock-thickening sight, to say the least, and it was with the greatest ease that he could imagine himself unbuttoning those buttons and baring Jennifer's succulent breasts, pushing down her flaming bell-bottoms to explore the humid delights of her pantied snatch.
Only one thing detracted from the overall picture of ravishing beauty presented by Mrs. Wagner. And that was the unsightly swelling on the right side of her jaw.
"So, here we are again," Jennifer said, leaning back in the couch and crossing her legs. "The patient and her analyst all set for visit number nine. Or should I say, round nine."
Paul grinned. "It looks as if you've already been in the ring, Jennifer."
"What?"
"Your jaw. What the hell did you do to it?"
"Oh that. Well-"
" You're not going to tell me you walked into a door, I hope."
"Would you believe a telephone pole?" a smiling Jennifer asked.
"I would not."
"Maybe it's a cancerous tumor."
Paul chuckled. "That I seriously doubt, baby. Now tell me what happened. Were you finally able to get that nincompoop husband of yours to smack you around a little?"
Jennifer's smile faded a little. "Yes, something like that."
"Great day in the morning. So Mr. Milktoast is at last beginning to turn tiger, huh?"
"I'd rather not talk about him, Paul."
"Why not? C'mon, sweetheart, give me all the juicy details. How did you manage to provoke the dumb clod?"
"I said I don't want to discuss it," Jennifer said, a bit of a bite to her voice. "I'm not here to talk about my husband. Besides, I've already told you all about him. We played that scene the first time I visited your office, remember?"
Paul looked at his "patient" and then shrugged his shoulders. "Well, if you don't want to tell me about the incident then you don't want to tell me about the incident. Simple as that."
Jennifer returned Paul's half-smile with one of her own. She wondered if maybe she should explain to him exactly what had transpired between herself and Kevin last night. But that would mean confessing to a "sin" he had warned her repeatedly against committing.
At least once during each of her previous visits Paul had expressed concern about someone learning the exact nature of their relationship. Such a disclosure, he had said, could do irrevocable damage to his practice in Crestmont. So mum was the word.
But here she had gone and blabbed to her husband, Jennifer thought, remembering the jolting right cross Kevin had sent crashing against her now painful, badly swollen jaw. Were she to tell Paul that she had broken her promise not to say a word, he just might decide to terminate their relationship.
"Perhaps it's just as well that you don't go into any detail, Jennifer. I mean, why waste precious time talking when we could be balling?"
"My feelings exactly, Dr. Latham," Jennifer said, a broad smile blossoming on her face. "And since I'm paying for an hour's worth of your time-"
"You expect your money's worth, correct?"
"Correct."
Paul chuckled. "My beautiful Jennifer, have I ever short-changed you? Don't you always leave here satisfied with the service I've rendered?"
"More than satisfied, Paul."
"Good. Now what's it to be this afternoon? The whip again? Perhaps a good old-fashioned spanking. Yes, that might be nice."
"It all sounds so inviting, Doctor. And so exciting."
Paul leaned forward in his chair and placed his arms on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him. "I could work on your tits for a while, Jenny. How would it be if I squeezed and mauled your luscious breasts until you yelled uncle?"
"Oh, Paul," Jennifer said softly, her pulse quickening as her "doctor" reeled off a few of the things he could to to provide her with the pain she craved.
"You would like that, wouldn't you?"
" Yes-yes, I would."
"And your cunt, Jennifer," Paul continued. "Wouldn't you just love me to attack your cock-hungry twat? I could bit you there, suck your sweet snatch until it was raw and bleeding. I would thrust a few fingers inside you and then, while you sobbed in agony I'd try to shove my whole fist inside your slushy cunt."
"Paul, sweetheart, you don't know what you're doing to me."
And me, honey, Paul thought, watching his beautiful blonde "patient" slump further down in the couch. He could feel his cock begin to stir inside his trousers. It was starting to swell, to thicken with warm blood, to push up and out against the material of his boxer shorts.
"Let's get the show on the road, Jenny. Treatment time has arrived."
"No. Wait a minute Paul. I want to tell you about a dream I had a few nights ago."
Paul grinned. "C'mon, beautiful, stop pulling my leg."
"This will take just a couple of minutes," Jennifer explained, pulling herself up into a more erect posture on the couch. "And I think you'll find my dreams very interesting, Paul."
"Okay, if that'll make you happy," Paul sighed.
"I dreamed that I was raped. Oh, Paul, it was beautiful, just beautiful. It was very late at night and I was walking alone in a deserted park-the one right across the street, in fact. Suddenly I heard the sound of footsteps behind me."
"The plot thickens," Paul smiled.
"I looked back over my shoulder and saw this huge, hairy man about twenty feet behind me. He was a big, powerful brute and at the moment stark naked. I couldn't see him too clearly at first because the park was so dark. But then he passed under a street lamp and I caught a glimpse of his face. He was ugly, the ugliest man I ever saw."
"Most fantasy rapists are like that," Paul noted, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.
"And his cock, Paul, it was something out of this world. It was monstrous, as thick and as long as a horse's tool, and it jutted out from his loins like a flagpole. It was a cock better suited to a randy mare than a womn."
"But it excited you, didn't it?"
"No. I was afraid of it, Paul. I could imagine myself being ripped asunder by that gigantic organ."
"So you ran."
"Yes. I left the cobblestone road and darted into some bushes. I could feel the loud thumping of my heart as I started running through the park. As I dashed around a tree I tripped over a large branch and fell face first the damp ground."
"The truth is you wanted to be caught and raped," Paul opined with a smile. "Your fall was not entirely accidental."
"I don't know."
"Did you scream for help?"
"No. I picked myself up and then spun around to check on the whereabouts of the man chasing me. I thought I had put some distance between us but I was wrong. He was coming after me, gaining ground with each passing second. I turned and started running again, this time cutting through a row of hedges and dashing out into an open field of grass."
"A mistake, right?"
"Yes, because now I had no cover. I could hear the man behind me, growling like a bear as he closed the gap between us. I thought I could feel his breath on my neck and wondered just how close to me he really was.
Ten feet? Twenty feet? Thirty? I was afraid to look back over my shoulder for fear that I'd see him getting ready to lunge at me.
"And then I felt his large, powerful hands on my shoulders. He threw himself against me and I was sent sprawling to the cold ground, his huge bulk resting on my back like a steamer trunk. He kept me pinned like that while he caught his breath, his weight pressing my breasts and face into the damp grass."
"Did you consider crying out now?" Paul asked, knowing the answer he would receive from the gorgeous masochist.
"I was afraid to. I didn't want to provoke him, I guess. Anyway, he started whispering dirty things into my ear, telling me that I wouldn't be hurt if I did all that he asked. Then he pulled himself up off my back and started wrestling me over, his dirty fingernails digging into the flesh of my arms."
"Now we get to the good part," Paul smiled. "When I was on my back he started ripping at my clothes. I was wearing what I'm wearing this afternoon, Paul. This same sweater and these bellbottoms. He took hold of the sweater and with a fiendish snarl ripped it right down the middle. Then he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me up to a sitting position on the ground."
"The better to remove your sweater," Paul remarked, again with a sardonic smile.
"He worked the sweater off me and tossed it aside. Then he jammed a few fingers between my bra and chest and viciously yanked the bra off my breasts. When I was naked from the waist up, he shoved me back to the ground and started denuding my lower half. I was helpless, Paul. All I could do was stay put and watch as he began dragging down my bellbottoms-"
Helpless, my ass, Paul thought. You wanted it, baby.
"The next thing I knew I was naked except for my white cotton panties. But I didn't have them for very long. The ugly brute snarled again and ripped my pants away, tossing them next to my other things on the grass. And then he was on me, Paul, growling like an animal as he struggled to jam his monstrous manhood into my dry vagina-"
Paul kept his eyes on Jennifer as she continued her explicit and detailed account of the rape she had experienced in a dream. He watched her drop one hand into her lap and, after spreading her legs, begin a heated massage of her crotch through the material of her bellbottoms. The other hand she brought to her left breast, squeezing it hard as she started squirming on the couch.
"I tried to squirm out from under him but it was no use. He was too big, too heavy. I started to plead with him, Paul. I begged him not to do this awful thing. But he ignored my tears and kept jamming his horse's hard-on between my legs. And then-oooo, did that hurt."
"The penetration?"
"Yes. He suddenly lunged forward and buried his great cock in my cunt. I let out a scream, Paul. The pain, oh that mind-bending pain."
"But it got better, didn't it, sweetheart? The pain quickly turned to pleasure, right?"
"It did, yes. As soon as he started fucking me. He didn't waste any time. Once he was in me he started pounding away, tearing up my cunt with his powerful prick. I could feel it up to my tits. I thought I'd be split right down the middle. He was so huuuuge."
A lewd smile blossomed on Paul's face as he pushed up out of the armchair and quickly took off his sport jacket. Keeping his eyes on Jennifer, who was almost panting now, he unbuttoned his shirt and at the same time kicked off his loafers. His pecker was about to bust through the material of his trousers, so aroused had he become by the beautiful woman's account of her degrading ravishment.
"But then, that prodigious cock began to feel good in me. I wanted more of it, Paul. I didn't care if the bastard ripped up my insides. The pain was so good, so satisfying. I started to moan with joy. I begged him to do it harder, faster. I wrapped my arms around his hard back and-ohhhh, it was so fucking good, Paul."
Clad now only in his boxer shorts, Paul looked down at the woman squirming shamelessly on his couch. Her head was lolling on the back cushion and her eyes were closed. Nostrils flared, she continued abusing her body through her clothes, one hand busy between her parted thighs, the other roughly massaging her left boob.
"Tears of happiness washed down my face as he slammed his marvelous cock into my hungry cunt. Each belly-flattening thrust of his tool knocked my breath away. He kept socking it to me, using his cock like a sledgehammer to pound my pussy to pieces."
Paul shucked his shorts and then, bare-assed naked, stepped to the couch and dropped into it next to Jennifer. He brought one hand to the front of her cream-colored sweater and started unbuttonning the buttons.
"He battered my cunt with his enormous organ, Paul. He looked down at me and told me I was a hot-assed bitch. I agreed and begged him to never stop fucking the shit out of me. He just laughed and-Paul, what are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing, sweetheart?" Paul grinned at the luscious blonde whose eyes had suddenly flicked open. "If you go on much longer with this tale of rape, you'll be coming in your pretty pants. And we can't have that, can we?"
"No wait, Paul," Jennfier said, taking the passionate psychologist's hand away from her sweater. "I don't want it like this. I want you to rape me."
"What?"
"You heard me. I want to be taken against my will."
"You mean-"
"Yes. I want to re-enact the rape I dreamed about the other night. Please, Paul. It'll be fantastic-for both of us."
Paul smiled. "You don't expect me to take you to the park right now and-"
"No, of course not. We'll do it here in your office."
"You're serious, aren't you?"
"Very. Now please, Paul. Say you'll rape the shit out of my cock-craving body."
Paul looked at the ravishing blonde next to him. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea at that, he thought. He had plenty of time to do as Jennifer wished. His next appointment was a good forty-five minutes away-and since his office was soundproof he didn't have to worry about her yelling her head off.
"Well, Paul, will you do it? Will you rape me?"
"Will you promise not to scratch my eyes out?"
Jennifer smiled. "I'll do everything I can to prevent you from entering me except claw your face and-"
"Knee me in the groin."
"Yes. I wouldn't want to ruin you, you know. I won't kick you in the balls, Paul."
Paul shrugged. "Well, all right then. I'm ready when you are baby."
Jennifer's smile faded as she dropped her gaze from the psychologist's face to his lap. The sight of his organ, rock-hard and throbbing now, sticking up against his belly, sent a shiver of lust up her spine.
She brought her left hand down and hungrily grasped the spear of flesh she would soon be trying to keep from slicing up into her steaming vagina. Her fingers curled around its pulsating fullness and a look of sexual need blanketed her beautiful face. The prospect of being raped, of being savagely violated, of living the glorious dream of brutal ravishment she had dreamed the other night, was turning her inside out with desire.
It would be a fantasy come true.
"Now, Paul," she said finally, giving the docor's blood-filled dick a violent squeeze. "Rape me now!" Wasting not a second, he jumped on Jennifer and wrestled her down on the couch until she was stretched out on her back.
"No, don't do this," Jennifer cried, losing herself easily and quickly in the role of hapless victim fending off the lustful attack of a satyric rapist. "Please-you're hurting me. Ooohhhh-"
As Jennifer bucked and twisted under him, her hands clamped firmly on his shoulders, Paul worked like a madman to strip her naked. With his right hand he grabbed the top of her sweater and yanked down, the garment tearing easily right down the middle as two of the buttons he had not undone earlier popped up into the air.
Remembering what Jennifer's dream rapist had done, he plunged a hand into her silky blonde tresses and with a violent yank jerked her up to a sitting position. Jennifer shrieked and started pummeling his chest with her balled fists, her face flushing as she struggled with all her strength to prevent the denuding.
For a fleeting moment, as he worked the torn sweater around and off Jennifer's shoulders, Paul considered the consequences of tearing all her clothes. He knew that that was what she wanted now, to have the clothes ripped from her body and then to be savagely screwed in the manner of a demented rapist. But what happens later, he wondered, when it came time for her to leave his office and return home. She couldn't very well walk out wearing garments badly wrinkled and tattered.
That was a problem that would have to be confronted later, he decided, tossing the sweater onto the floor. Right now he had Jennfier's bra to worry about. He was anxious to bare her boobs, to feast his eyes once again on those spongy globes of succulent flesh.
"Stop it, please stop it," Jennifer moaned, her lovely face contorting in simulated anguish. "Don't do this to me."
"Shut your mouth, slut," Paul shouted. He drew back his right hand and smacked the protesting blonde across the face. He hit her a second time, the back of his hand crashing against her left cheek and jarring her head back. "Now will you shut up, cunt?"
"You bastard!" Jennifer howled. "You perverted beast!"
"Bitch!" Paul yelled back. His left hand still painfully entwined in Jennifer's hair, holding her head up and back, he again raised his right hand and whacked her across the face.
Then, as Jennifer fell to whimpering like a baby, as the tears began sliding down her burning cheeks, Paul unclasped her bra and quickly pulled it off her chest.
"No, don't do this," the ravishing blonde sobbed, acting her part beautifully. "Stop it. Don't rape me, please. No, don't take them off. Ohhhh-"
Ignoring the woman's phony pleas for mercy, Paul undid the lone button at the side of her bellbottoms, yanked down the zipper, and then proceed to roughly tug the garment down her legs, his body hunched over as he labored like one possessed to get at her pantied treasure.
The couch cushions sagged under his weight, the springs in squeaky complaint as he shuffled back on his knees while dragging the bellbottoms down Jennifer's creamy smooth thighs, over her knees to her feet, where for a second they remained bunched at her ankles. But only for a second.
Quickly he removed Jennifer's white shoes, the left first and then the right tossing both over his shoulder in a manner befitting the frantic rapist. Then he worked the bellbottoms around and off her feet, crumpling the garment into a ball before hurling it across his office.
"Okay, baby," he breathed hotly, eyes wide and burning brightly. "Now we just have your pants to worry about."
"No, don't take my panties off," Jennifer pleaded, feigning fear as she squirmed her near-nude body on the couch. "Please. I'm begging you. Don't rape me. Don't."
"I'm going to fuck you dizzy, baby. And you're going to eat it up, you hear?"
"No, I won't let you." Jennifer bolted up to a sitting position on the couch and spit in his face.
"Bitch!" Paul spat, ducking the spray. "Spit at me, will you. I'll show you."
Valerie Latham would have found interesting and certainly not disquieting the fact that her psychologist husband was playing determined rapist to Jennifer Wagner's suffering but spunky victim. At the moment, however, she was giving absolutely no thought to her spouse, his practice or his problem-laden patients.
She was much too busy concentrating on Frank Fallon.
The voluptuous Valerie had met her virile, muscular lover six months ago, literally bumping into him on the turnpike while on her way to Crestmont to purchase yet another dress to hang in her already clothes-crammed bedroom closet.
She had pulled up behind Frank's cream-colored Dodge, which Frank had stopped at the change of the overhead traffic light from green to red. When the light finally flashed green, Valerie, much to her dismay at the time, broke from the gate like a bronco-buster, accidentally jamming her foot down on the gas pedal and propelling her small Triumph into the larger Dodge.
The damage to both autos was slight, of no consequence whatsoever, but the impression Frank made on her that fateful afternoon was of considerable significance, because it set in motion the very enjoyable affair they had been carrying on for the last five and a half months.
Valerie had been considering the merits of an affair for several months prior to her fortuitous introduction to Frank Fallon, president and co-owner of a thriving construction firm located on the outskirts of Ocean Grove. It wasn't that she felt sexually deprived and in need of a really good banging.
Far from it. Paul, she was quick to admit, gave her all she wanted in bed and then some. He was a robust, imaginative lover, a talented cocksman not afraid to experiment and one concerned as much with his wife's orgasm as he was with his own. No complaint did she have with Mr. Latham. Not a one.
What had prompted Valerie's search for a lover was her general, overall feeling of restlessness. Her life, she realized, had fallen into a pattern, a rather monotonous one brightened only by those sizzling sex sessions with her husband. Although she truly loved her good-looking mate and her fabulous home, and enjoyed the parties she threw for her friends and neighbors as well as those she attended with Paul, she became increasingly aware of the sameness of her activities, the disquieting routine of it all.
What she needed, Valerie had already decided before meeting Frank, was a good jolt, a tonic of sorts, something that would jar her loose from the nagging feeling that, despite all her wonderful possessions, her life lacked purpose and maybe even direction.
So it was that Valerie embarked on her affair with Frank Fallon, finding in their secret meetings, their clandestine couplings, the excitement and danger she felt was missing from her life heretofore. And making this affair even more thrilling, more naughty, was the fact that it was her first.
"I guess I'm overdue, wouldn't you say?" Valerie had teasingly asked Frank during their first rendezvous at the Rest-A-While Motel, a home away from home for adulterous couples residing in and around the posh community of Ocean Grove. Frank's answer had taken the form of a bone-rattling plunge into Valerie's steaming vagina, following which he fucked holy hell out of her.
Now, as her husband "raped" Jennifer Wagner in his office in Crestmont, Valerie beckoned Frank with her little finger. She was bare-assed naked and sitting up in the double bed that came with No. 6, one of the nineteen units which, when taken as a whole, comprised the popular and usually busy Rest-A-While Motel.
"You're not starting to give me orders now, are you, baby?" Frank asked with a crooked grin.
Valerie smiled. "Only the kind you love to obey, Mr. Fallon."
"You're a wicked little bitch, Mrs. Latham."
"I'm a randy little bitch, you mean. Now bring that big, beautiful body of yours over here before I-"
"Before you what?"
"Before I dash outside and ask the first stud I see to screw me."
Frank chuckled. "Like that freckled-faced kid in the office, huh?"
"Could be," Valerie answered with a grin. "You saw how he looked me over when you registered us. I thought his eyes were going to pop right out of his head."
"He'd be a lousy lay, baby."
"How do you know? Have you tried him?"
"Have I tried him? I ought to whack the daylights out of you for a crack like that. Here, is this the body of a guy who likes boys?"
Valerie watched Frank assume the pose favored by very strong, exceptionally well-muscled men when they want to show off their powerful physiques; feet apart, planted firmly on the ground, arms up and bent at the elbows, chest out and stomach in.
Frank was without doubt the most well-constructed man she had ever set eyes on. Posed as he was now, he looked as if he had just stepped out of a body-building magazine. His was the body promised every ninety-eight pound weakling by those pushing programs in weight-lifting and related muscle-strenghtening techniques. Mr. Adonis, meet Mr. Fallon.
And Frank was good-looking too. Good-looking in a rough, unfinished sort of way, that is. A rumpled mass of coal-black hair topped a large head more round than oval. Frank's eyes were blue, twin orbs peering out from beneath bushy eyebrows; his nose was broad and somewhat crooked, broken often, he had explained, during his short-lived career as a professional boxer.
Yes, Valerie decided, she couldn't have done much better than Frank. For her first fling she had chosen a six foot two inch, two hundred and ten pound giant of a man. With a cock that was quick to rise and never in a hurry to wilt. Not bad for a gal playing the game of adultery for the first time.
"Well, I'm waiting, baby," Frank said, holding his pose. "Tell me what you think. Is this the body of a queer or what?"
"Queers come in all sizes and shapes, don't they?" Valerie teased.
Frank dropped his arms and shook his head. "Baby, in all my thirty-nine years I've never met a broad like you. Don't you ever get tired ( of jabbing the old needle in a guy?"
"You know you love it, you big brute," Valerie said with a broad smile.
"I guess I'm just going to have to prove to you again that I'm as straight as they come."
"The proof is in the fucking," Valerie declared, sliding a little further down in the bed as she brought her hands to her warming womanhood. "Now am I going to get laid this afternoon or not? I can't wait all day, you know."
"You won't have to wait a second more, Mrs. Latham. Help is on the way."
Frank walked over to the motel bed, his slightly larger than average pecker in the first states of tumescence. He looked down at the gorgeous titian-tressed woman now stretched out and squirming sensuously on the bed. She was fooling with him again, he realized, his eyes fixing on the smooth, inviting undulation of her shapely hips as she rolled them up in tantalizing welcome.
"Do me, Frank," Valerie breathed sexily. "Do me good this afternoon."
"What do you want, baby? You name it and I'll do it."
The apprentice adulteress smiled warmly. "What haven't we done yet, Frank? I can't think of any act or position we haven't tried at least once already."
"Maybe you'd like your twat sucked."
"Maybe."
"I could fuck you between your tits, baby."
"Yes, that's an idea," Valerie purred, continuing to rotate her hips on the bed as she lovingly fondled her copper-colored snatch. "What else can you think of, lover?"
"How about if you suck on my cock for a while? You always get a charge out of that."
Valerie's eyes drifted from Frank's face down to his rising manhood. She watched with more than passing interest as his tool climbed his left leg, as it became thicker, longer, swelling while ascending until finally, magically, total turgidity was achieved.
"Mmmm, it looks good enough to eat, Frank."
"Go to it, beautiful," Frank suggested, curling the thick fingers of his right hand around the column of blood-packed flesh. "He's ready whenever you are."
"Later, I'll suck him later," Valerie promised, her voice soft, sexy. "He'll be my dessert."
"And the entree? Has milady decided yet?"
The titian-haired beauty stopped the provocative rotation of her hips, the smooth, spongy hillocks of her prime posterior settling into the mattress as she brought her hands from her wetting snatch up to her mouth-watering boobs. She thought for a moment, fingering her rose-colored nipples as she tried to decide in what hole she wanted Frank's cock the most.
Frank finally emitted a sigh of exasperation.
As if that were her cue, Valerie said, "All right, big boy, how about coming in the back door this afternoon? Are you in the mood for some hot ass-humping?"
"I am if you are, baby," Frank answered quickly, a broad smile replacing the small frown he had been wearing. "It's been three weeks since the last time I shoved it up your sweet fanny."
"I know. That's why I want it today."
"Asshole beginning to twitch, huh?"
"It needs to be stretched again," Valerie said, grinning up at the big, burly man.
"Baby, I'm going to stretch it a mile. Now let's stop all this talking and get down to business."
Valerie pushed herself up off the bed and maneuvered close to Frank, her legs curling up under her as she reached for his pulsating pecker. Without a word she moved her head into position, directing the pear-shaped crown of Frank's tool to her eager mouth. For a few tantalizing seconds she rubbed the cockhead back and forth across her sealed lips.
Then, her lips parting, she took into her mouth the tasty crown and started sucking taking more and more of the pulsing organ inside her oral cavity as she hungrily and without pause launched into an enthusiastic fellatio.
Back and forth her head moved, her soft, supple lips gliding wetly over Frank's turgid manhood, her teeth scraping lightly over its heavily-veined surface. Finally-
"Okay, Mr. Fallon, that should do the trick. Now you're all nice and slippery."
"The better to ream your ass, beautiful," Frank grinned at her.
"That was the idea, fella. We may as well make the trip up the old dirt road as easy as possible."
With that, her anus in excited twitch, Valerie released Frank's saliva-covered manhood and twisted around away from him, positioning herself on hands and knees on the bed with her firm, full, and very fuckable bottom provocatively presented for inspection. She looked back over her left shoulder, a smile coming quickly to her beautiful face when she saw how hungrily Frank was staring at her poised behind.
"Go ahead, you big brute," she said huskily, her voice as thick and warm as molasses. "Fuck the shit out of my ass."