Chapter 2
Sherrie's blood red nails clawed at the tweed sofa, wadding up the rough fabric in the palms of her sweating hands. His hands crawled over her trembling buttocks, pulling them apart with a cruel, mauling force. But it was his evil, drunken snickering as he slaved to brutalize her body that hurt worst of all-a deep pain in her heart.
Jack smiled sadistically, his lips drawn taut across strong, gnashing teeth. "Hold on, honey . . . I've been waiting two fuckin' weeks for this!"
The blood surging in Sherrie's veins turned to ice. Wasn't it humiliating enough to have one's husband riding your back like a humping dog, prodding at the most private, sensitive part of a human's body?
"Ahhhhhggghhh.. . ! " Her auburn head rose from the sofa pillow like a dying man gasping for his last breath. The naked, warmly seeping tip of Jack's spongy cock head had nudged at the door of her bowels. She felt his hand slip determinedly between her thighs to guide the cudgel at the shivering hole.
Jack licked his dry lips as he positioned his swollen cock at the tiny, elastic pucker of his wife's anus. A perverse excitement bordering on hysteria rippled through his strong body as he craned his neck to watch the ultimate intrusion. How the hell do homos manage things, he wondered drunkenly. Am much bigger than the tip of my little finger! But trusting nature's miraculous ways, he tossed aside useless speculation and gathered his strength.
"Never saw your asshole before Sherrie," he hissed, bathing her naked back in foul liquor breath.
Sherrie reared up like a cobra. "No, god no, Jack.. . you're crazy . . . please. . . ! "
Jack snickered nonchalantly. He flexed his strong loins and thrust his hips in an exploratory jab that brought renewed mewls of agony from his whimpering, prostrate wife.
"No, Jack . . . please think about what you're doing.. . ! "
"I ain't thinkin' . . . my cock's thinkin'. . . "
Sherrie tried to roll over onto her back. "Please, we'll make love like we always do . . . okay, honey?" she cajoled coldly.
One strong hand pinned her shoulder to the sofa. Jack's eyes nearly popped out of his head with sadistic pleasure as he tightened his savage grip on his wife's hips and reared back. He thrust into her with all his pent-up anger.
"AAAUUURRGGGHHH . . . NNNNOOOOO!" Sherrie's scream cut through a hail of spectator cheers as Chicago scored a touchdown.
Jack raised his head momentarily to see the scoreboard flash a fresh statistic. "Here's one for Chicago," he grunted through the cries of blinding pain ricocheting around his wife's anus.
Desperately, Sherrie struggled to roll her pelvis downward and free of the beastial attack, but he had her pinned. Reduced to a slavish victim of her husband's sodomy, even Daddy couldn't save her this time! Piteously she sobbed into the rough sofa, feeling the friction chafe her cheek, reddened and dampened with tears of rage. He thrust into her, gouging into the tender ring of her sphincter muscle. A pain like nothing she'd ever believed human, tore through her shuddering body. She'd heard that pain could make a person faint, and she prayed for that blessing now . . . anything to stop the teeth-gnashing gouging into her nether region.
The breath snorted from Jack's nostrils, his face flushed from the unnatural exertions. Christ, could he ever drill into her tight virginal asshole? like a rampaging bull, he charged forward and rammed through the fleshy barricade. The mushroomed head of his penis bored into the clinging opening, hanging there like a sausage from the meat grinder.
"YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME . . . YOU'RE
SPLITTING ME IN HALF . . . JACK!" She groaned and mumbled and clawed her nails into the sofa as she felt her rectum being cleaved by the penetration of Jack's lust-engorged cock.
"You wouldn't nag to your Daddy! You take his shit . . . I didn't hear no complaints from you when he fired me and made me look like the asshole of the year," he gasped between clenched teeth as he tried to jab more of his vengeance hardened cock into the warm, rubbery depths of her anus.
He still wondered how homosexuals did it without killing each other and, contenting himself with the knowledge that he was succeeding in hurting his wife, he grinned evilly to himself. This would pay her back for questioning his honesty. He just wished he was drilling it into his father-in-law's criminal ass!
Sherrie feared she could never use that part of her body again. A searing pain fired her loins and she imagined that tiny hole torn and bleeding. Physical pain, she discovered, was nothing compared to the emotional anguish paralyzing her mind. Shame and degradation clouded her senses. How could she possibly have the family over for Thanksgiving dinner, and she'd so planned to use the holiday to cement relations between son-in-law and father-in-law!
The man she'd loved was acting like some kind of perverted animal and deliberately killing the love between them. Yes, that's what hurt most-the conscious intention. The white hot prod poling up her anus was no excusable mistake!
"Get off of me," she wailed, her screams mingling with the cheerful yelps as Chicago scored another touchdown. She moaned aloud, tears streaming down her pink cheeks to dampen the sofa that buffeted blows to her head each time Jack thrust into her from behind.
Intoxicated by her whelps of self pity, he hammered inch by scorching inch into his crying wife's anus, until he'd managed to finagle the sausage-like tube right up to his bloated testicles. The bruised inner flesh gave way to his demanding cock, the way his wife always gave in to her father. Guess that proves he's an asshole. Jack guffawed inwardly.
He grunted and puffed as his sperm heavy testicles slapped against the satiny cheeks of her helplessly impaled buttocks. 'There," he rasped, "that one's for Daddy!"
Oh, how could he be so disrespectful after all her father had done for them! Paying the down payment on this house, giving Jack a job to set him up in the car dealership . . . and this is the thanks he gets! None of that mattered now . . . it would never matter again.
Resistance only frustrated her womanly powerlessness, and realizing nothing would stop this heinous attack, she gritted her teeth to endure the mortification he was heaping upon her.
Rhythmically, Jack held his lust-inflated cock inside his wife, then pulled it free, feeling victoriously excited by the sight of his wife's anus accommodating the demanding girth of his cock. First time she's given in for a while, he snickered to himself, watching the tender pink flesh pull in and pull out with each sawing stroke. She'll find out who's boss. He'd read somewhere that once your wife let you take her in the ass, you had the upper hand for life.
Armed with that superiority, he began to withdraw his long, hard cock, easing it slowly out of the dry passage while fresh moans of pain from his defenseless wife sang in his ears. With the lust-bloated naked tip of his cock peeking inside the sphincter ring, he rammed forward. To his amazement a pearl of inner secretions eased the chafing rhythm as he began to fuck in and out of her savagely impaled anus with devilish delight.
God, why did I make fun of him? I should have known he'd go crazy when I brought up Daddy's name!
He battered against her buttocks until they pinkened with friction and forced her legs so far apart she felt like a Thanksgiving turkey about to be devoured. The only way to be free of him was to make him cum, a shimmer of rationale dictated out of nowhere.
"Fuck me in the ass," she forced herself to say. "Cum in my ass!" The words stuck in her throat like bad meat-but it worked. "Split me open with your fat cock!"
Was this his wife spitting out filth? In the end it didn't matter. Jack felt anger and passion and lust focus in one vortex of power. His eyeballs roamed in his head, and a strange singing wailed in his ears. He reared back giving himself room to slap his wife a few stinging blows on her buttocks. "Move that ass . . . you whore!" He pounded and hammered into her in a fierce battle of cock against anus.
It shot-high and deep!
The hot sticky fluid, once nectar to her loving, married vagina, shot high into the forbidden depths of her anus. She felt his penis jerk and erupt in a scalding geyser in the raw, seared depths of her helplessly flooded rectum. It felt like fire as the salty liquid Beeped into the torn membranes of her ravaged backside and bathed her bowels in lust. The final insult closed the curtain of marriage and she clenched shut her eyes and wept. The sickening reality could never be erased, never amended.
And yet he pumped into her with labored, grunting breathing as he pumped a pint of his lust into her forever defiled rectum. To forgive this animal riding her back like a humping dog was unthinkable. Then, with a sigh of relief, she realized his raping penis had stilled and was slipping down the cum-slickened channel of her rectum.
Outside the window, autumn leaves chased in whirling circles over the frost bitten ground. The cheerful cries of football fans and the winning side, and weeping of losers had given way to the seven o'clock national news on television.
Sherrie raised her head leadenly from the sofa pillow, little wads of tweed released from her palms as she levered up. A rectangular light flooded the room, splashing over her naked body. Only when she felt the heavy weight pinning her to the sofa, did the sourness of reality return. Jack's snores rattled hideously in her ears, echoing the gloom that filled her heart.
Wiggling out from under his body so as not to awaken the sleeping monster, she slipped to the bathroom down the hallway and flicked on the light only when she'd locked the door after her. The monster . . . what twist of the mind had caused him to act so brutally? The thought caused elephantine tears to squeeze out of her wide set eyes. She didn't know the man . . . never wanted to again.
Despite the pain in her rectum, her mind felt purged, emptied of emotion. Walking from the living room to the bathroom didn't hurt as badly as she'd feared and encouraged, she bent over the tub and turned on the faucet. The stretched movement caused a dull ache to stab up the ravaged tube of her bowels. She sucked in her breath, tears blinding her, and decided against taking a bath; a quick wash with the cloth would do.
One glance in the bathroom mirror set the tears flowing anew. Was that really Sherrie Turner . . . or the ghost of the person she once was. Mascara had smudged to clown-like circles under her wide eyes and black rivers of makeup dribbled down her swollen cheek. One turn to the side revealed black bruises where Jack had grabbed her around the neck. Lips, red and swollen, refused to smile.
Numbly she grabbed the nearest washcloth-the white one with HIS embroidered in brown-and turned on the cold water faucet. She rubbed the moistened cloth over her face, under her eyes and dabbed at the welts on her neck. The anal assault left her feeling dirty and the cold washcloth found its way to the swollen pussy mound. For a moment she held it there, expecting to sop up the blood. The coolness soothed the fiery pain somewhat.
Wincing, she lifted one foot to rest on the toilet seat and, bending her head, examined herself. No blood. That surprised her. She considered a visit to the hospital emergency room, but the thought of her father hearing of this travesty was unthinkable. I'm a big girl.. . I have to handle this alone.
Convinced that Jack's raping fingers must have torn something, she used her fingers to separate the swollen lips of her pussy. The cooling washcloth mentholated her genitals, dulling the horror and awakening something within Sherrie's mind, despite her bruised body, wished to plunge forever into the depths of sub consciousness.
Jack's anal attack had a strangely thrilling effect-lingering and diabolical. With doctor-like skill, her lingers probed gently the swollen petals. Gently rubbing motions, much like a mother stroking a crying baby's back, eased the discomfort. In fact, it anesthetized the pain. She stroked the lips in slow circles, using the pad of her forefinger. The friction relieved the itchy feeling, so she increased the movements so as to not ignore the oily marble of her clitoris. Her knees started to tremble and buckle, and her pelvis started grinding like the Dallas Cowgirls' in the heat of a cheer. The nipples of her swollen breasts tightened into little studs. Sherrie shivered and goose-bumped.
Why couldn't Jack have made love to me there? It's been so long and I needed it sooo badly! Oh, it feels good.. .I.. .I can't stop! She sucked in her breath and threw back her head. Splatters of light flickered before her fluttering eyelids. I'm going to cum . . . oh, Jesus. She cupped the tingling mound of her pussy with the softness of her palm and rubbed, wanting to delay her orgasm as long as sense would allow.
She moved her buttocks in a rocking motion, tilting her pelvis to meet the thrust of her two middle fingers sliding wetly up into the heart of her womb. It burst
. . . a dam of sweet smelling love juice. A wailing hiss spat through clenched teeth; head thrown back, eyes flickering blindly, mouth gaping open, she stroked in and out of her crying womb while tears flooded her cheeks. Faster and faster until the beautiful pain of orgasm left her crumpled and goose-bumped on the bathroom rug. A sucking wet noise filled the room, save for the dripping faucet, as she pulled her sticky fingers free.
Then guilt set in. Thoughts fled to her husband's terrorizing assault, and now this self-inflicted humiliation. Sherrie's doe-like eyes flicked about the room. Claustrophobia set in. She had to get out of this house, away from everything!