Chapter 5
Frank had every intention of doing just that. Stepping up behind the ravishing redhead, he placed his large, work-toughened hands on her beautiful backside. He proceeded to caress that succulent seat, his thick fingers pressing deeply into the smooth, resilient flesh of Valerie's firm buttocks.
Up and down and all around his hands roamed, squeezing, stroking, massaging roughly.
With the middle finger of his right hand he traced the inviting cleft between Valerie's buttocks, running the digit slowly up and down, up and down, pausing for a few brief seconds at her anus to diddle that puckered port.
"Mmmmm, I like I like," Valerie purred, sensuously rolling her plush posterior back at Frank.
"What do you like, baby? Tell me."
"I like your hands on my ass."
"And my stiff cock up it, right?"
"Right."
Frank chuckled and continued his not-too-gentle kneading of Valerie's tempting tail. Shit, but she was one helluva broad, he thought. She was a woman and a half, no doubt about it. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes Valerie Latham was all female.
Too bad he didn't know a little more about Valerie's husband, because then he'd be better able to judge the guy, to figure him out. But Valerie never had much to say about her old man. Whenever he brought up the subject of her husband, she would quickly change the course of the conversation, making it very clear that she preferred not to discuss her marital affairs.
All he knew for certain was that Paul Latham practices psychotherapy over in Crestmont. He was one of those guys who charge an arm and a leg just to listen to some poor slob's troubles. It sure was a damn easy way to make a buck. All you had to do was nod your head once in while and sympathize with those mixed-up jerks. No sweat in that.
Well, maybe he didn't really know anything about Paul Latham, enough, that is, to make a fair judgement. Maybe he was making some hasty conclusions about the man and his profession. It could be Latham was a decent sort making a good living in a job he found interesting.
But one thing he did know. Valerie was too good for him. Much too good. Valerie was born to be worshipped, to be placed on a pedestal and kept there. Men should be made to pay just for the great privilege of feasting their eyes on her loveliness. Dressed she was a knockout, naked she was pure heaven.
But most men tok women like Valerie for granted. They were too busy with their careers to fully appreciate the value, the importance of breathtaking beauty. Women like Valerie can't be seen on every street corner in every city of every state. They were special very special, and deserved to be treated accordingly.
There was no doubt about it. She was one in a million. And he, Frank Fallon, confirmed bachelor and cynic, was falling deeper in love with her each passing week. What a bitch it was that Val was already married. If only she were free.
"Hey," Valerie said suddenly, impatiently, "are you going to fuck my ass or not? Now who's the one wasting time, Mr. Fallon?"
"Sorry, baby," Frank smiled. "I was thinking, that's all."
"This is no time for thinking, Frank. Save the brain work for another day and start working that beautiful cock inside my shitty rectum."
"Right beautiful. Hang on now."
Dispelling from his mind the sad thought that Valerie was not his to screw night after night after night, Frank readjusted his stance and with his right hand guided his still rock-hard pecker to her winking nether hole.
Then he pushed forward with his hips, exerting pressure at Valerie's small anus with his blood-engorged cockhead as he worked to gain a foothold, a cockhold, in her tantalizing bottom. Hands clamped firmly on her shapely hips, a look of determination on his rough-hewn face, Frank struggled to wedge the bulbous crown of his saliva-laden prick inside Valerie's resisting asshole.
"C'mon, baby," the sex-hungry beauty pleaded, "get it in me. Shove it in there."
"Open your ass, Val," Frank husked. "Help me a little."
"I am helping," Valerie said, squirming her delightful derriere back at Frank. "Just ram it in me, Frank."
"I'll hurt you, baby."
"No you won't. I can take it. Shove that damn thing up my fucking behind."
Frank grunted and pressed ahead, exerting even more pressure against the exciting woman's wrinkled rear aperture as he knocked impatiently on the back door to pleasure. Valerie dug her fingers into the sheeted mattress and continued to stubbornly resist the instinctive urge to tighten her sphincter muscles.
And then, finally-
"Ughhhh-yes, that's what I want, Frank. More now, baby. Get it all in there."
"Can you feel it, beautiful?"
"It's good, give me the rest now."
Frank looked down at the point of connection, the wholly obscene sight of his pulsating prick joined to Valerie's magnificent bottom sending a shiver of lust up his spine. The thick, blood-filled head of his organ was snugly sheathed in the woman's shit-chute, held there hotly by her widely-stretched, gripping asshole.
As Valerie squirmed restlessly on her hands and knees, her long flaming tresses hanging straight down and partially shielding her beautiful face, Frank began working the rest of his powerful prick inside her dark, dank rectum. He pushed ahead with care, with more caution than was necessary, because he was loath to cause Valerie even the slightest pain.
"Oh, it's good, Frank, so fucking good," she panted happily, the feel of her lover's pecker worming its way relentlessly up inside her clammy rectal canal clouding her mind with desire.
Why was it, she wondered, that a good screwing of her ass thrilled her so. What made it so strangely satisfying, so utterly delightful? The rectum was, after all, sadly lacking in sensitivity, having neither the great elasticity or nerve endings of a female vagina.
It was psychological, Valerie decided. Or at least much of it was. She was inclined to agree with Paul who, having interviewed a number of female patients with anal fixations, was of the opinion that the thought alone of being fanny-fucked, of submitting to what, ultimately, was a dehumanizing act, was enough to stimulate some women and make them highly responsive to sodomy.
Yes, that made some sense. Women were, by nature, essentially masochistic, basically submissive creatures. They wanted to be taken, handled and humped not with finesse but with vigor and determination.
As for anal sex, there was something wickedly wonderful, something deliciously depraved, about offering up your bottom for penetration. It was all so dirty, so unnatural. Getting fucked in the fanny was akin to laying bare your soul. You were so open, so vulnerable, so completely at the mercy of the man exploring that most private and personal part of your anatomy.
How gut-jumbling good it was!
"All right, baby," Frank said, "you have it all now. Your behind is stuffed with prick."
"Mmmmm, I love it," Valerie breathed hotly. "Fuck me now, Frank. Ream me out with your beautiful bone."
A hundred wild horses couldn't have pulled Frank away from Valerie, so intent was he on once again pleasing her by performing one of her favorite perversions. But he took a moment now to savor the feel of his rock-hard organ in the woman's dank shit-chute. He was in to the hilt, his tool buried balls deep inside her humid rectal chamber, snugly ensconced there.
To say it was great would be an understatement, Frank thought, again looking down and thrilling to the beautifully perverse sight of his prick in lewd possession of Valerie's mouth-watering posterior. He had burrowed through the muck in her rectum, inching his cock slowly but surely into her fantastic fanny, and now he was home free, imbedded to the hilt, his organ planted firmly inside the back road to paradise. It was sensational!
As Valerie hummed her wholehearted approval, Frank began working his tool in and out of her hot, tight back passage, testing its elasticity with slow, sure strokes. He would withdraw until only the bulbous head of his pecker remained sheathed in Valerie's ass, hugged hotly by her distended anus, and then push back inside the clammy confines of her gripping rectum until her ass was again chock full of meaty manhood.
"Yes, oh, yessss," Valerie hissed. "That's the way, baby. Dig it deep into me."
In and out Frank moved his probing pile of flesh, his buttocks in slow, rhythmic, back and forth motion as he pushed in, withdrew, pushed in and withdrew, stretching Valerie's shit-chute with each deliberate, well-timed stroke.
The psychologist's wife rocked back and forth on the bed, her beautiful body in lazy, sensual sway as she swiveled her luscious bottom, rolling it up and back to greet the darling dick drilling into her bowels.
Shit, but it was good, Valerie thought. The fantastic feeling of fullness in her behind was simply heaven. Frank's hot sausage of a cock was planted up her ass, stuffed deep inside her rectal canal, and the sensations suffusing her now were nothing less than exquisite.
"How is it, baby?" Frank asked, his voice heavy, charged with passion.
"Beautiful, just beautiful," Valerie moaned rapturously.
"You want it faster now?"
"Yes. Faster now, Frnak. Do it faster."
"Hang on, honey."
Without further ado, Frank increased the tempos of his thrusts, his hands tightening on Valerie's heavenly hips as he began punching his prick into her quivering alabaster ass with less reserve and more determination.
Valerie cried out with pleasure, tossing back her head to reveal a face bathed in a strange, perverse smile. Her long flaming tresses swirled about her neck and shoulders as she rocked on the bed and begged Frank to really do it to her, to fuck the daylights out of her dirty derriere.
"Get down, baby," Frank ordered. "On your elbows."
Valerie obeyed without pause, dropping onto her elbows and then cradling her face between her arms. Now she was in lewd, servile crouch on the bed, her face pressed hotly into the mattress and her impaled backside thrust high in the air.
"Go, Frank, go," she pleaded passionately. "Fuck my ass raw, you big brute."
Quickly Frank resumed his reaming of the redhead's mucky rectum, picking up where he left off seconds ago. Again and again he boomed his pulsating cock into the quivering behind so provocatively posed for defilement, his meaty manhood churning up inside Valerie's dank, dark rectal chamber and lustily stirring her turds. Each passionate plunge of his rigid rod into her rectum wrenched from the redhead's throat a gutteral moan.
"Oh, Frank, it's good, so goooood."
"Enjoy, honey, enjoy."
Paul should see her now, Valerie thought dazedly. How would he react to the sight of her being banged in the bottom by another man? Not with joy, that was for sure. In many ways her husband was the typical male chauvinist, the kind whose belief in the old double standard could not be shaken by the most vociferous liberationist.
It was perfectly all right for him to "treat" his female patients by screwing them dizzy on his office couch, but his wife was to remain the ever faithful servant, the homemaker whose sexual needs were tended to on the marital bed-and only the marital bed.
Extra-marital humping was, in a word, verboten.
But what Paul didn't know wouldn't hurt him, Valerie decided, again feeling Frank's hairy scrotal sac slap up against her upturned snatch as he delivered yet another jolting thrust into her stretched rectal chamber.
No doubt Paul's belief in the outmoded double standard, a belief strongly implied if seldom stated, had played a part in her decision to take a temporary lover. Perhaps in her subconscious there was a need to get back at him, to match his numerous affairs with at least one of her own.
Well now she had something. Never, of course, would she be so bold, so daring, as to flaunt her affair with Frank in Paul's face. Informing her mate of her infidelity, confessing to many moments of passion with Mr. Frank Fallon, who, for all intents and purposes, she had picked up on the turnpike, would serve no useful end and might even cause a rift in what she considered a very solid, very satisfactory marriage.
Her affair with Frank, all their clandestine couplings, was and would have to remain her secret. And what a truly delicious secret it was. On a number of occasions already she had savored the knowledge of her adultery while feigning intense interest in Paul's detailed description of an encounter with a randy patient.
Yes, indeed, Every woman, married or single, was entitled to her secret.
"Baby, baby, I'm going to come soon," Frank announced suddenly, knocking out of Valerie's head all thoughts of her spouse.
"Yes, come in me, Frank. Fill my ass with come."
Reaching now for the summit, the glorious peak of pleasure, Frank threw caution to the wind and commenced a savage assault on Valerie's fabulous fanny. Violently he plumbed the dank depths of her mucky rectal canal, his thrusting prick a meaty cudgel as it churned furiously up inside her humid bowels.
"Argh-oohhh!" Valerie grunted, each powerful, pulverizing thrust into her bottom shoving her forward on the bed a few inches, pushing her face deeper into the mattress.
"Soon, baby, soon," Frank promised in a rasply, lust-choked growl.
"Come, oh come," whined the passion-befogged redhead, her fingers digging hard into the mattress, the sheer vulnerability of her humiliating position, her total helplessness, contributing significantly to the wild, weird pleasure she was deriving from the hard-driving cock rapidly reaming her rectum.
Frank battered Valerie's bottom with a fiendish fury, with the unholy intensity and single-minded savagery of a man gone berserk. Out of control now, swallowed up by a gigantic, demonic lust, he ripped into the goreous female's painfully stretched rectum with a vengeance, forgetting in this moment of madness and gut-jumbling depravity that he loved Valerie Latham, that it was she who, with her luscious body and devilish demeanor, with her sultry voice and intoxicating charm, had started him thinking about the perfect companion and how he might make of their relationship something more permanent.
Valerie was now just Woman, a scintillating specimen of her sex, a female who had enthusiastically offered up her succulent ass for brutal ravishment. And he was just Man, lust-bound Man, dominated by the soul-scorching need to satanically service that proffered posterior.
"Oh come, ooooo, please come," Valerie whimpered into the mattress, tears of happiness rolling down her cheeks, her excited body in feverish quiver as she impatiently awaited Frank's creamy discharge in her derriere.
For ten seconds more Frank's rampaging rod ran amuck in Valerie's steaming rectum, punishing it unmercifully. The titian-haired beauty whined with pleasure and again, in a plea, begged for her lover's syrupy semen.
He had once again ripped her up back there, cleaving her bottom as one might halve a ripe peach, his slashing sword of flesh shredding her rectum with fiendish, furious force. Again and again she had felt his powerful prick thunder up her bowels, surging deep inside the clammy confines of her after passage. And now she wanted the balm, the soothing lotion that would ease the soreness and inflamation caused by Frank's abrasive thrusts into her tender shit-chute.
Was there a better abirritant than a man's warm, gooey semen? To be sure, it was a love liniment.
While one woman shivered in ecstasy in a motel not far from her home in Ocean Grove, the ejaculating cock imbedded in her ass spitting out a warm, creamy come to bath her violated rectum, another woman, in Crestmont, in Paul Latham's decorative office, begged for come in her cunt.
Jennifer Wagner, masochistic mother of two and seeker of sadistic embraces, had forsaken her role of whimpering victim, of female frightened by the inevitability of her ravishment, and was now a most willing participant in a frenetic fornication.
No longer was she feigning fear, pretending to be terrified of and revolted by the impending rape of her treasure twat. She had stopped pleading for mercy and ceased trying to twist out from under her "rapist."
She was herself again, thrilling to the kind of savage, animalistic sex she demanded but didn't receive from her strait-laced husband.
Jennifer's return to reality was managed with astounding ease. It had taken but a few hard, bold thrusts of Paul's turgid cock into her pulsating pussy to transform the blonde beauty from amateur actress playing a part to hump-hungry harlot in desperate need of sex.
Seconds after cock coupled with cunt on the couch, Paul lustfully locking loins with his pain-worshipping "patient," Jennifer junked her act and threw herself unashamedly into the fuck. With an animal-like groan of passion she had thrown her arms around the lusty psychologist's hard back and hooked her legs over his, responding immediately to his rough thrusts into her steaming, salivating cunt.
And now Paul was really socking it to her, his taut buttocks jerking crazily up and down and side to side as he hammered his tumescent pecker into the butter-soft mush of Jennifer's sodden womanhood, his arrogant prick probing deep inside her quivering tummy.
"Harder, Paul," the blonde masochist begged in a breathless voice. "Fuck it harder, baby. Screw me good."
"Take it, you cunt," Paul husked, looking down into Jennifer's flushed, passion-twisted face. "Swallow it up, pretty bitch."
"Give me cock. Cock, cock, cock."
"Like this?" Paul slammed his meaty manhood into the woman's steaming sex cove with a violent thrust of his hips.
"Arrrgh-" Jennifer groaned happily.
"And this?"
"Ohhhh-"
"And maybe this?"
"Ummmph!"
"Is that hard enough for you baby?" Paul growled, his breath coming in short gasps.
"More," Jennifer whined. "Please give me more. Hurt me."
A satanic grin spread across Paul's attractive face as he took in the pained expression on Jennifer's. The urge to truly defile this beautiful female was becoming more intense with each passing second. Just knowing that he could do anything to her, anything at all, and that she would love it and plead for more, was enough to start his blood boiling and his heart beating like a tom-tom.
An idea suddenly popped into Paul's head. Pushing himself up off the couch, his slippery prick sliding wetly out of Jennifer's slushy vagina, he got to his feet and moved quickly over to his desk.
"Paul, come back," whined the lovely masochist, one hand darting downward to clamp over her now prickless pussy. "Please finish me off. I need you."
"Be right back, baby," Paul promised. "I've got a little surprise for you."
"Bastard," Jennifer moaned, beginning a frantic massage of her aching twat as she writhed on the couch.
Paul found what he had been looking for in the left hand bottom drawer of his desk. He had purchased the frightening item just last week in a pornographic bookstore, thinking at the time that Mrs. Kevin Wagner, ever ready to experience the perverse thrill of painful intercourse, would thoroughly enjoy his use of it on her.
He had planned to save it for a special occasion, perhaps making good use of its pain-inducing properties when, on one of her weekly visits to his office, Jennifer expressed a wish for a truly agonizing sexual experience, one that would have her screaming like a banshee.
But this was just as good a time as any, Paul thought, walking back to the couch. Besides, he had seen in that bookstore other evil contraptions Jennifer would no doubt find very interesting. These could be purchased at another time and used in the weeks to come.
He would simply add their cost to Jennifer's bill, since they were to be used in her "treatment."
"What's that?" Jennifer asked, turning her head on the couch cushion to see her psychologist strapping something around his waist. "What are you doing, Paul?"
"If it's pain you want, baby, then pain you'll get. You're going to love this."
Still stroking her sizzling snatch, Jennifer watched Paul fit the hollow rubber cylinder over his erect penis and then bring behind his back the two straps attached to the cylinder and hook them together. Her eyes, moist from the tears of joy she had shed while Paul was scouring her vagina with his thrusting tool, grew wide as she focused hard on the cock attachment.
"You like, sweetheart?" Paul asked with a grin, after adjusting the straps around his waist.
"I-I've never-"
"What you see is what you're going to get, Mrs. Wagner. Every last painful inch."
Never before had Jennifer seen anything like what Paul was now wearing. It was a strange-looking contrivance, one of evil design, in all likelihood invented by a man with a sadistic bent. Frightening it was, but also fascinating.
The cylindrical length of flesh-colored rubber sheathing Paul's pecker was at least a foot long, which meant, of course, that approximately six inches had been added to the six of the doctor's dick. On the rubber extension were a dozen or so thick, spike-like protrusions, about three-quarters of an inch in size.
This wicked penis attachment, Jennifer concluded, was obviously intended to rip a female's pussy to shreds.
"So what do you say, Jennifer? How would you like it if I slammed this big banana inside your cunt?"
"The lovely blonde swallowed hard. "You'll kill me with that thing, Paul. I couldn't take it."
"Nonsense. You're a big girl with a big hunger for pain."
"But-"
"And this thing will do the trick, baby. Next week you'll be asking me to shove it up your ass, I'll bet."
As Jennifer stared at Paul's now monstrous manhood, her mind filling with thoughts of the agonizing pain she could expect if it were crammed ruthlessly inside her tender, sensitive vagina, an emphatically perverse and not unfamiliar desire began wending its evil way through her naked body.
Her anguish would be of incalculable proportions, comparable to nothing heretofore experienced, she realized with a strange mixture of fear and fascination. The sadistic spankings Paul had administered, the fiendish, feverish assfucks he had subjected her to, the diabolical way he crammed his meaty cock so far into her mouth that she gagged-all this would seem like innocent fun after she'd been savagely mauled by the terrible, twat-tearing penis-enlarger.
"Well, baby, give me your answer," Paul said, stepping toward the office couch and looking down at the vulnerable blonde. "Are you going to chicken out or-"
"No," Jennifer cut in sharply. "Do it to me, Paul. I want it in me."
"All of it?"
"All of it. Tear my cunt to pieces, Paul."
"You're going to love this sexy toy, Mrs. Wagner."
Quickly now Paul climbed back onto the couch, once again positioning himself between Jennifer's legs, one of which she had hooked over the backrest to give the doctor more room and to fully expose her snatch to his diabolical dick.
"Touch it, Jennifer," Paul urged the masochistic woman as he hovered over her. "Feel those rubbery little spikes."
Jennifer snaked her right hand down between their bodies and curled her fingers around the rubber cylinder sheathing and lengthening Paul's pecker. Already she could feel the thick, pointy protrusions digging into the tender flesh of her vagina, rippng away at the walls of her poor womanhood with agonizing abandon.
"Now ask me nicely for it," Paul ordered, an evil gleam in his eye. "Beg for the pain you crave, bitch."
"Beg for it?"
"That's right, sweetheart. Let me hear you plead for this big, beautiful cock."