Chapter 8
Bob gave no hint to Debbie that he knew about her secret clashes with the sheriff when he got home that night. She did seem different to him, though, glassy-eyed, moving around in a daze as if she'd just been raped by a stampeding herd of bulls.
He didn't know about her wild session with the sheriff's wife, or the monstrous dildo, which actually was equivalent to a herd of snorting bulls.
Nor could the sexy blonde possibly know he'd been going at it strenuously with every inch he had with the sheriff's luscious daughter.
One thing Bob did know, however, was that the tawny little bitch was going to get it that night, in faster, harder, hotter, and more vicious ways than she could dream.
Usually, when it was Debbie's night off, they had dinner, watched TV, and put in an arduous two or three hours of raw, exhausting sex.
Tonight was Debbie's night off—for which she was sincerely grateful, because she could barely sit anyway after being vengefully raped in the ass by the sheriff's wife—so they followed their customary pattern.
Only this time when they stripped naked for bed, Bob had already removed his Sam Browne belt from his uniform pants. He ordered Debbie to lie flat on her stomach with her ripe ass bared. She hesitated, uneasy at the tone of his voice.
"I'm not up to any fancy screwing tonight, honey," she told him. "I'm sort of tired."
Watching her though narrowed eyes, naked with his long hard-on quivering out, Bob wound the buckle section of his thick leather belt around his fist, leaving a tail of about two feet.
"I'll just bet your cute ass you're tired," he said sharply. "How many times did Ed plow you there, you little whore?"
She gaped at him, startled. Christ, he knew about the sheriff! But did he know about the sheriff's wife?
"Ed didn't lay a finger on me today!" she said truthfully. "I swear he didn't touch me today, Bob."
He caught the subtle trap at once. "Not today, probably, but how about the rest of the time, you slut? Get on your belly, fast!"
Seeing the violent gleam in his eyes, Debbie obeyed, trembling from head to toe. Mingled with her stark fear was a delicious excitement as she recalled the massive burning pain in her tender ass earlier today, lewdly inflicted by Val. It had sparked her deepest lust, got her rocks off so wildly she'd never forget it.
Now her husband began swinging the thick belt viciously, bringing screams of anguish from her lips. Yet with each brutal lash of fire across her satiny cheeks, a tremor of depraved bliss shot through her loins too, a vivid recall, of her hot, violent anal rape.
With each furious lash of the belt, Debbie got hotter, more frantically aroused, her cunt throbbing eagerly for action. Even Bob was startled at the way she reacted to her whipping. She was wailing and shaking all right, but goddamn if she wasn't excited too!
When her golden ass had turned to a glowing crimson, he flung the belt aside and mounted her quickly, ramming his huge dick savagely into her burning asshole. He started pumping as cruelly as he could, thrashing deep into her hot squirming wetness, her wriggling cheeks intensifying his animal excitement.
"Yes, I love it!" Debbie sobbed, clawing at the mattress beneath her and lurching up to meet his pistoning rod so that his meat stung viciously deep. "Yes, fuck me harder, harder! Oh Val, Val, I'm gonna come! Val, I'm commminnng!"
Bob froze in mid-stroke, wondering if he heard right. She repeated the name again and again in her lustful frenzy, thrashing her naked ass madly beneath him, until he was forced to finish his rape, compelled by the juicy tightness and boiling heat of her frantic asshole.
She came along with him, softly screaming as his jism gushed in sharp hot spurts in her bowels. Then Bob quickly slipped out his dick, grabbed Debbie by her blonde hair and brutally jerked her head around to face him.
"What the hell do you mean, Val? That's Ed's wife! How could she screw you there? How could she screw you at all! Answer me, goddammit, or I'll chain you down to this bed and whip your ass 'til it's dogmeat!"
Sobbing in pain, Debbie told him about the sheriff's wife in halting, graphic sentences, leaving nothing out. When she was finished, Bob let go of her and slowly climbed off the bed, shaking his head in disbelief, lighting a cigarette while he tried to digest it all.
He tried to sort out in his mind the whole depraved mess. First, the sheriff had been screwing his wife on the side for some time now behind his back. Then, earlier today, the sheriff's wife— that hot, sexy bitch he'd been eyeing for months himself—had seduced and raped Debbie herself, an encounter that his lust-crazed blonde wife readily admitted turned her on tremendously.
While he was taking the cherry of the sheriff's daughter.
"I guess you're really mad at me, aren't you?" Debbie whimpered on the bed, her ass tingling and glowing with hot, eerie happiness.
"Well, I'm not exactly thrilled about your screwing the sheriff," he snapped. But the idea of Debbie and Val in action together sparked his imagination and a fresh hard-on stirred in his blood.
Knowing what he knew now, it wouldn't be very hard to get a three-way going with himself, Debbie and Val. He knew for a solid fact that Val had been screwing around on her husband with men, so she must be a switch-hitter.
The idea of screwing the sheriff's wife as well as his luscious daughter seemed to balance the scales out very nicely.
Thinking about the sultry switch-hitter and watching his own wife's ripe, soft curves at the same time made Bob's long cock quiver and leap.
He leaned back on the bed.
"I want one of your super-specials," he told Debbie, guiding her head roughly down to his cock. "And then tomorrow morning I want you to call up the sheriff's wife and have her come over here for lunch. I'm going to be the lunch and you two are going to be the dessert. Now suck!" Debbie obeyed with a thrill of pleasure.
Henry Smith was a mild-mannered, completely calm and methodical man. If you burnt his toast for breakfast, he would absent-mindedly smile at you. If you stepped on his toe, he would mumble apologetically for letting his foot get in the way. It was theorized, but not proven, that if you kicked him in the ass, he would offer to shine your shoes.
Thus it was that Henry was highly pleased to have a wife like Jenny, the town librarian. Like himself, she was sane and sensible and soft-spoken. She dressed modestly, spoke quietly and properly, and made no animal demands upon his limited sexual interests.
The perfect soul-mate.
On this Saturday night, Henry had gone to an informal faculty affair, leaving Jenny at home. It seemed that his wife was privately tutoring one of the schoolgirls in town, which Henry thought was extremely considerate of her.
But Henry was at the social affair for no more than thirty minutes when he discovered, with typical absent-mindedness, that he'd forgotten to bring his carefully prepared paper on Adolescent Attention Span, something he regarded as shockingly deficient. Most adolescents these days seemed more fascinated by dope and sex and beer than poetry and languages and art.
Rather than call his wife and disturb her tutoring, Henry decided to make the quick drive back to his house himself and bring back the paper so he could read it to his captivated friends.
He drove back, entered the house and found the downstairs empty. Frowning, he cocked his head and listened. It seemed as though someone was shrieking upstairs. His heart beating nervously against his ribs, Henry wondered if he ought to call the police. Maybe it was just a recording of an opera played by Jenny. People in operas did shriek, quite often, from broken hearts and the cruel twists of fate.
Taking a deep breath, Henry decided to find out for himself. He crept softly up the stairs, the yelps growing louder. They were definitely coming from the guest bedroom! Outside the door he paused, sweating now. He gripped the knob, and in a burst of rare courage, flung open the door.
What he saw made his mind reel, his blood pound and his eyes bulge all at once.
"Oh, my God," he cried. "Oh, Jenny! Oh, dear!"
"Oh, shit," Jenny muttered with disgust.
His voluptuous brunette wife, whom he had trouble recognizing at first, was wearing what appeared to be a police uniform! Only it wasn't really a police uniform. It was more like the one the sheriff wore, gun, boots and all.
It had quite a few differences, though. For one thing, the shirt was unbuttoned down to the waist so that her magnificent creamy tits jutted out. For another, the pants were crotchless, because Henry could clearly see her dark tangled pussy-hairs, wet and glistening.
About six inches from her crotch was a naked young girl, kneeling before his wife. Jenny had a short-handled black whip in her hand, and the girl's tender ass had red welts across it.
The girl, whom Henry recognized to be from his school, hardly an innocent since she had a reputation as one of those awful "swingers," was gaping at Henry in shame and horror, blinking her eyes rapidly.
Even with Henry's normally unsuspecting mind, he had to assume the most shocking thing of all: The redhead had been eating his wife's pussy while Jenny had been lording it over her and whipping her naked ass at the same time!
"Tutoring," Henry whispered in a daze. "You said you were tutoring her!"
"I didn't say in what, did I?" Jenny said, her manner quite composed and cool. "I think, Henry, it's time you learned the harsher facts of life. Shut the door and come in, darling. Lisa and I are going to introduce you to a whole new world of fun and games. Well, don't stand there like a gawking idiot! Get in, or get out for good!"
Henry blinked his eyes, wondering if she actually meant what she said. Leave Jenny for good? His sweet, intelligent, soft-spoken, poetic wife who could discuss Shakespeare for hours?
In every mouse lies the sleeping courage of a lion. His bulging eyes going from his obscenely sexy wife to the naked, wet-lipped girl kneeling before her, Henry took a deep, deep breath and made the bravest decision of his sheep-like life.
He closed the door behind him, and took a timid step toward the lusty pair.
He took his jacket off, and instead of folding it neatly as he always had since he could remember, Henry tossed it scornfully on the floor.
He put his hands on his hips, remembering how John Wayne spoke in his last movie when faced with two dangerous killers.
"Deal me in," he said hoarsely. "Who wants to get it first?"
Jenny smiled at him tenderly. The mousy little sonofabitch had a set of balls after all...