Chapter 5

Carl found some canned goods Ramona's uncle had stored in a kitchen cupboard and they discovered some wine and Scotch in the dining room sideboard. He fixed them both a couple of strong Scotch and waters to calm their nerves before she tried to cook on the gas stove in the kitchen.

"What if it doesn't work?" she asked worriedly. "Stop being a pessimist, Mona. Of course it'll work."

He checked the pilot, then lit it after turning on the bottled gas behind the stove. He tried each of the burners and they found all worked perfectly.

"How about that?" he inquired proudly.

"Great! Now, if you'll get the fireplace going for some heat, I'll light some more of those candles you found in the sideboard."

"Last time I get stranded with a slave-driver!" he cracked.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, taken aback at his assessment of her personality.

"Well, she'd have to be as beautiful as you," he said with a grin.

"No, really, I should be ashamed to have dragged you out here and gotten you stuck like a prisoner with me."

Her dark eyes clouded and he began to realize how sensitive she was. He knew she'd never intended to cause him any trouble and had planned to stay here by herself. He was glad he'd been left with her, for she would have been terrified alone. Whoever the intruder was, he probably wouldn't bother two people as much as he would have just one person.

"Hey, stop pouting," Carl reprimanded her, leaving his fire preparations. "I know you didn't get me stranded out here on purpose. You just wanted to see the place, and you had every right to expect me to escort you. But if I'd known there was going to be so much trouble with this old house, I'd never have let you come."

"What?"

"In other words," he whispered into her thick, fresh-smelling hair, "I wish I'd taken better care of you. I think you'd make a better friend than client."

"Oh, we shouldn't!" she protested as his arms closed around her.

"You act like a pure-bred puritan," he said with a laugh. "This is the right place for romantic notions, this house. But as for the time and circumstances, would I have had a better chance if I'd called on you in that restaurant you work in? If this were New York and the Four Seasons rather than the kitchen of a haunted New England mansion . . . ?"

"Your investigation of my whereabouts was more thorough than that or you wouldn't have found me, would you, sir? A hamburger shop across from Macy's hardly qualifies in the category of the Four Seasons."

"But who says I would have wined and dined you there? Everything must have its proper setting. Nancy Kwan under moonlight and palm trees on a sandy beach, you by candlelight and soft music."

"Under the fog in a groaning mansion," she quipped.

"Let me do the scene setting," he told her. "You're the leading lady, but it's the man who directs. Remember?"

"My apologies." She laughed nervously, shivering.

"Cold?"

She nodded and he returned to building up the fire while she turned to the cooking. He was nice, she conceded. She really liked him. But for some reason, probably just her long-ingrained principles, she couldn't surrender to him as easily as he wanted.

After dinner she pleaded a headache and retired to the bedroom at the head of the stairs, which she'd cleaned and prepared somewhat for the night, putting a clean sheet on the mattress of the big four poster. She'd also put a fresh sheet on the bed in the room across the hall for Carl and had tidied the dusty, cobwebbed chamber as best she could, using the bed drape as a dust cloth.

"Sure you're not afraid of me?" he teased as she said good-night to him in the hall.

"Would I ask you to sleep across the hall from me if I were?" Ramona protested, anxious not to have her will challenged at this point.

As she turned toward her room, he called, "Mona, I hope I haven't forced myself on you or made you angry if you didn't really want my attentions."

She smiled. "I would have let you know," she assured him, wishing she were as strong as she claimed. "Pleasant dreams."

Carl went to check the kitchen fire once more to be sure it was out and she watched for his candle as he returned to his bedroom. Then she put out hers.

"All right?" he called one last time.

"Yes," she replied, and softly closed the door before returning to her bed.

It was a long time before she could drift off to sleep. The strange noises of the old house and the memory of the intruder stayed with her. A tree scraped its branches against her window like something clawing at the glass wanting to get in. The boards of the house sighed with age. Every now and then she could have sworn someone was out in the hall whispering but she was sure Carl would have knocked if he'd had anything to say to her.

The darkness took on fanciful shapes. From the deep corners rose wraiths with piercing eyes. They all stared at her and pointed their fingers, whining, "Death! Death to those who come to Blood Island!"

It had to be her imagination. It had to be! Dear God! Oh, my God, protect me, she prayed over and over until she drifted off to sleep.

She was dreaming, and someone was calling, "Mona! Mo . . . o . . . o . . . na!" through the mist of fog that surrounded the island. Somehow, she knew it was the voice of her uncle, Rolf Hecht. He was calling her, calling her to him.

"Mo . . . na . . . aaa!"

"Where are you?" Ramona cried, searching the misty darkness.

"Here. I'm here," he answered, his chilled hand touching her bare arm.

"Y . . . you're so cold!" she whispered. She was surprised at his mocking laughter. "And so would you be, my dear!"

Why didn't he finish? Why didn't he say it was because he was . . . dead! She struggled in his grasp and awoke in a cold sweat, staring into the piercing eyes of ... a ghost?

"Shhhhh," it hissed. "I don't want to hurt you. I have just come to warn you."

Ramona opened her mouth to scream, but a cold, clammy hand slapped down over her lips before they could let loose their horror.

"Scream and I'll kill you!" threatened the hoarse voice.

A cold sharpness was pressed to her throat. In a moment she knew it was the blade of a knife.

Slowly a heavy, damp presence pushed aside the warmth of her winter coat, which she'd been using as a cover, then it came down on her body. Through the thinness of her nightgown she felt the bulky figure and the slippery slickness of something long and hard protruding from beneath a leathery robe that felt to her like grasshopper skin. The weight of this huge thing, bringing dreadful expectations, drugged her with helpless fear.

"Pretty little thing," whined the voice. The fingers that had clasped her mouth traced her facial features like a hundred long-stemmed feelers.

Soon the blade left her throat and the hand that held it was encircling her breasts, squeezing one nipple, then the other. The heavy bulk was rocking restlessly on her crotch.

With effort she drew the sound from her aching lungs. An eon passed before her vocal cords responded, "Eeeeeee!"

In a moment the bulk was gone. With her eyes clenched tightly closed in terror, she only felt its heaviness leap from her quivering body and heard the whisper of its robes disappearing in the night.

Had an eternity really passed before Carl burst through the door? In a few moments he was at her side, holding her tightly while she wept.

"It was here!" she sobbed hysterically. "Right here on top of me!"

The words strangled in her throat as if the unseen phantom was yet with them trying to choke off her voice. But it was only her fear. The fear born of seeing, feeling, touching the haunting, gruesome specters of night known only to places of violent death and terror.

"It's all right," Carl tried to reassure her, holding her tightly to his chest. "It's all right. Whatever the thing was, it's no longer here. It's gone."

"It was terrible!" Mona sobbed. "It called to me. Held a knife to my throat!"

"Yes, yes," whispered Carl, rocking the quivering young woman in his arms, her face tightly hidden in his neck.

"Big and wet," she continued hoarsely. "In a long robe that felt like grasshopper skin."

"Now, now," he continued, trying desperately to soothe her. "It was just a nightmare."

"But it wasn't!" she screamed, drawing back to face him squarely. "It wasn't! It was here. Honest to God, it was here in this room, lying on me. So heavy! It was heavy and rocked on my . . . my abdomen. It even clutched at my-!"

He watched her skeptically as she showed him, her hands touching her groin and breasts. Would a ghost be heavy and grab at her female anatomy? he pondered. He didn't believe in phantoms, but whatever this one was, it had tried to rape her, he was sure.

"I'm going to look-" he began, but the sound of feet thumping up the metal stairway to the widow's walk stopped him.

They thundered upward, echoing through the house. Carl jumped up and raced out the door.

"No, please!" Mona cried after him. "It has a knife. You've nothing!"

But he was gone. She heard his footsteps, bare and slapping on the hard metal steps to the roof. If anything happened to him she would be all alone.

Outside the house she heard laughter, loud and malicious. As it drifted away she felt herself going cold once more. Standing in the hall waiting for Carl, the shadows whispering and taunting, the house moaning in the deepness of night, she felt her blood run through her veins in icy trickles.

This hadn't happened-not to her! Death had taken those she loved and now it was coming for her! In this house, on this island, lurked hate and violence. The people of the village had known it, Carl had known it, but only Hansen had warned her. Why Hansen?

Haunted house? It wasn't possible! Ghosts? No. There weren't any! Then why had so many people been scared away? Why did this island and house warn and frighten away all who came? Who had killed her uncle? Oh, dear God! She too would die as her uncle and those before him. Had not the creature said so?

Death had touched all those who'd meant so much to her. Now she was what the grim reaper wanted In the bus coming up here, she'd felt it. The driver had seemed destined to crash that vehicle, but maybe the others hadn't been marked for death as she had, so the reaper had waited and planned for her here. Grandma had always believed in psychic phenomena. She'd said, even before she boarded that plane for a visit to California, that she wouldn't make it back. The plane had crashed just outside Cincinnati.

Ramona had been supposed to go on that plane trip with her parents the day they died, but had begged to stay home to be with Danny his last day before going to Vietnam. Then he'd been lost as well.

Distantly, she heard feet thundering down the stairs in the attic again. Carl? Or . . . what if he'd been . . . !

Carl! Carl! Mona tried to run to the door, but her feet wouldn't move. Then out of the dark attic stairwell came a small halo of light. In it she saw a starkly white face, the eyes dark caverns of fear. It came toward her slowly.

"Carl? Carl?" she said, hearing her voice quaver.

"It... it just disappeared," came his distant voice. "I heard it, but saw nothing!"

The fog came into the house, drifting in with its long winding tendrils circling about her ankles and wrapping around her body, dragging her downward. It laced its chilling fingers about her throat and threatened to cut off her breath. Snaking before her eyes, it pushed her further and further away from Carl. She could hear him calling, but he was too far away to reach or answer.

"Mona! Mona!"

When she opened her eyes he was there, sitting beside her. She reached out to touch him to be sure he was real and he caught her hand. It was warm on her icy flesh.

"Okay?" he asked, bending over her as she lay on her bed.

"Okay?" she repeated stupidly.

"You fainted in the hallway."

"I did? Oh, I thought. . . that is . . ."

"Too much happening," he told her gently. "You were overcome with fright."

"It wants to kill me," she said as if in a trance, her eyes looking blankly at the ceiling. "I was afraid it would kill you, too, all alone up there."

"Of course it won't," he assured her kindly. "Never met a ghost yet that was going to kill me."

"Oh, you shouldn't joke. What if there are ghosts and this house is haunted? I don't want you hurt on my account!"

"Don't worry. Nothing's going to touch me. I keep a rabbit's foot handy. Even keep my keys on it so it's twice as efficient."

"Thank you," she whispered, looking at him through the darkness, unable to say the words she wanted to. "Thank you for being here."

"Like I told you, I always wanted to be stranded on an island with a beautiful female. But who would have thought a cold, wet island off the coast of dull, dreary New England would have helped me out? Still, I suspect you'd rather get some sleep than listen to me, so I'll say good-night again."

As he rose to leave, Mona felt that cold wave of fear sweeping over her again. If she was alone, the creature might come back. Even if it didn't, she'd be alone with the whining winds outside, the creaking boards of the walls, the insistent scratching of tree branches on the window, all the phantom shadows and whisperings of before.

"Carl, don't leave me, please," she begged.

His hands were warm on hers as he said, "You know I'd love to stay, but you also know I want you. Since you don't want sex, I don't think it's a good idea for me to be in a bedroom with you."

"I ... I trust you!"

"You think that's enough?" he queried, standing beside her bed. "I'm not such a grand knight that I'll sleep on the floor all night."

Mona sat in the center of the bed. Slowly she edged to one side.

"It's a big bed. You won't have to sleep on the floor on my account." She patted the mattress beside her, bidding him welcome and adding beseechingly, "Please, don't leave me alone again!"

He lay down beside her and she settled back in the softness of the mattress, pulling her winter coat over her. He lay there with nothing to warm him. She hesitated only a moment before she rolled to his side and drew her coat over him as well.

She could smell his maleness and feel the tautness of his muscles. As her arm grazed over his body to bring her coat over him she was sharply conscious that he was wearing only his undershorts. He apparently had not stopped for his clothes before coming to her when she screamed. It was comforting to know that he'd been so alert and gallant, yet his near-nudity was disconcerting as they lay together, a man and a woman alone and needing each other.

Carl was aware of her suppressed sexuality as he took in the scent of her perfume, the velvet softness of her arm, the delicate female form that had felt so good to him as she clung to him in fright a few minutes before. Her nightgown was thin cotton; under the brief beam of his penlight he'd seen her ripe round breasts shadowed beneath the light cloth just before she collapsed in front of him.

She'd been light in his arms, the nipples of her breasts brushing at his chest through her nightgown as he held her close. And the small round cheeks of her buttocks had yielded softly to his clasping fingers. His hand had stroked one smooth thigh as he laid her on the bed and pulled his hands from beneath her shoulders and derriere.

He had longed to touch the ivory stain of her inner thighs as they lay open and relaxed in her unconsciousness. He was tempted to feel the soft down of her mound before she came to and realized her short nightie was high on her thighs, but she had come to then, and he was left with dreams of what might have been.

Now he lay at her side. Her long, soft, dark hair spread out under her head, its fragrance filling his nostrils. Those soft, doe-like eyes were closed against the night and her succulent pouting lips parted as her warm breath escaped silently. Under the heavy coat he could feel the feminine contours of her flesh against him as she sought to share her wrap.

"Mona," he whispered, "it won't work."

"What? Why?" she demanded.

How could he tell this lovely timid female that her perfume intoxicated him and her thinly clad flesh taunted him and filled him with need? She acted like such a "babe in the woods" when he tried to embrace and kiss her. Many girls liked to have fun with no strings attached, but this one seemed to want to play for keeps. What did she want out of life? Didn't she know she had to play by the rules of the real world, not her dream world of goodness and light?

"You don't seem to understand, Mona," he said with firmness. "You're a female and I'm a male. We just can't spend the night in the same bed, practically naked, and not feel some attraction toward each other!"

"But ... is it so necessary to ... to ... ?"

"Mona, you're a woman, delicate and beautiful. I'm a man and I have feelings, a male's needs and desires. We're alone and close enough to touch each other's bodies. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Don't you understand?"

After a moment's silence he heard her say in a strained tone, "Yes. I think so."

"Mona, baby, I need you!"

He turned on his side and put his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, his lips searching for hers. Her flesh was cold and her mouth trembling at his touch.

"Is it so necessary?" she protested again.

"You're flesh and blood, aren't you?" he demanded. "You're a human being with the same emotions and desires as the rest of the human race!"

"But I hardly know you!"

"That means little when we're out here alone like this."

"Oh, please!" she whimpered. "Can't you understand?"

"All right," he said kindly. "I'll leave you alone, but I'll have to go."

"Why?"

"Why? Why do you think? I'm no saint! You expect me to stay and not get a hard-on?"

"Oh!" she cried, turning away as if she'd been slapped.

"Look, I'm sorry, honey. It's . . . well, it's a fact of life, that's all."

He started to rise, but her hand stayed him. To be left alone and to know she'd hurt his feelings, the only friend she had here . . . she would die! Oh, no! It would be hell, torture through the whole night, being alone and knowing she'd alienated her one friend through her own outmoded principles.

"Please! Please stay. I'll try to be good," she promised.

"You?" he demanded incredulously.

In answer she snuggled closer to him until he could feel her breasts and abdomen against his flesh. When he came down to her lips, he found them soft and succulent. But when he tried to pry them open, they were firmly shut. His embrace relaxed.

He's going to leave! she thought wildly. Carl, no! Please, no! Her arms went around his broad shoulders, her fingers tantalizing his neck as she pulled his head to hers once more and opened her lips willing to greet him.

Deep into her mouth swirled his tongue. Mona's mind reeled. Think of Danny. No! Not Danny. He's gone. Think of Ray. Yes. Celibate now. But he wasn't then. Not a few months ago when he taught me how to love. Love him! While he loved God more! Taught me to love and left me. Ray! Ray!

Carl's hands were urgent on her as he tongue-fucked her mouth with ardor. His hands searched the reaches of her buttocks, squeezing them, inching the frail cloth of her nightie higher.

Mona's hand tried to stay him, but when he started to withdraw from her, threatening silently to leave her alone, she dropped her hand.

The cool rounds of her asscheeks were resilient like dough in his kneading fingers as he pried them and searched the intimate cleft that separated them.

Why, oh why! Her mind wailed. They're all alike. Men! Want your body, but not yourself, your spirit. Give them some female flesh and they don't give a damn what's inside, bitch or saint, someone who hates or loves them. A female slit and breasts are all they want. Nothing more! And yet if I don't give him something, I'll be alone again. Alone and afraid. Defenseless. After all, I owe him something, I suppose. He's been so kind and good, but for this. Oh, Carl! Carl! Ray! Danny! Oh, Danny!

Carl's mouth had found her breasts now, were licking the salty ripe fruits. Into his mouth popped the thick brown stems of her nipples. He sucked and chewed them into full red strawberries. Mona's hands were on his head, desperately wanting to stay his devouring mouth, but the haunting darkness beyond inflamed her dread of loneliness and her fingers stroked his neck as if in loving caress.

His strong lean body leaned onto her slightness. His sturdy, masculine frame was cold as marble. Like the Renaissance sculpture of Michelangelo or da Vinci, she thought, paralyzed beneath him. So beautiful. So handsome and perfectly male. But so cold and desperate. The maleness in him overpowered all else. He was first of all a man directed by the demands of his loins and second a protector of the woman. Yes, just like in Yves' club. She would be there first to keep a male happy, second . . . second . . . Was there anything a woman was really supposed to be beyond a sexual playmate? Sometimes she wondered.

Carol rocked himself onto her body. She could feel the growing hardness of his penis through the cotton of his undershorts. It pressed into her belly as he gyrated into the flatness of her stomach. Oh, Carl! You can't! she pleaded silently. Don't do it! Why, oh why does it have to be this way? You're not Danny or Ray! Mona, Mona! Where is your courage? Don't let the shadows mock you. Don't let the wind and the trees laugh at your fear. Over and over again she fought the lonely fear of the room, trying to force herself to make him go and spend the night alone without him.

His fingers played at the soft hair of her cunt, pushed between her thighs to pry at her slit. Titillating the tightly clenched lips of her vagina, he was surprised to find her hand trying to stop him. He pulled his burgeoning cock from his shorts and pressed it into her hand. When she tried to withdraw, he forced her hand to clench around it.

Hot and quivering, it seemed alive as a separate entity in her palm. The thickening vein that ran along its side pulsated into her sensitive skin, stirring her with tiny electric charges of damning desire. It wasn't Danny's. Don't make me do it, she wanted to plead. But the words were strangled in her throat. Unless she took his prick she would be left alone with her fears in the darkness with all the sounds of night to taunt her.

Carl's slathering lips coursed her breasts and belly intimately now. His fingers dug deeper into her snatch, hurting her until her muscles relaxed in a moment of weakness and his whole hand sank into the grotto of her crotch. Quickly her thighs closed, but he was already there, searching blindly for the small thread of her clitoris.

"Ohhhhh," she moaned, and then he found it, brutally pinching the sensitive little organ as he grasped for it in the small space allotted him for movement. "Eeeyyaahhhh!"

Her legs swung involuntarily open and Carl dropped between them. Gently he touched and culled it to excited stiffness all the while whispering apologetic and loving endearments to Mona as his lips paid homage to her neck and breasts.

Mona began to move beneath him. He could feel the muscles taut and spasming in her satin thighs. Though her head tossed to and fro, avoiding his mouth and mumbling incoherently, he could feel her responding to his titillation. Her hips jerked beneath him as she tried to stay the urge to rotate them up to his stimulating fingertips.

Wrapped tightly about his cock, her fist could feel the rock-hard flesh jumping to be free. When Carl tried to take it from her, she held it firmly and defiantly. His weight shifted on the soft mattress and she felt herself sliding from him. The blackness enveloped her and sound of the tree branches clawing at her windowpanes pricked at her consciousness. Was she going to be left alone to the Stygian night of unseen blue felt and heard horrors known only to this house and island? Carl, don't leave me! Not yet! Not yet!

Were those her hands that cupped his penis and placed it so gently on her puffy, inflamed vagina? Was it really she who clasped his testicles, massaging them lovingly while directing the burning head of his rod into her torrid, itching labia?

Carl came down on her once more, his parted lips on hers, and she welcomed the sweet draughts of his tongue's saliva as if it were an intoxicating liquor to quell the throbbing terror that filled her heart. She let him manipulate her breasts into fullness and tweak the dark aureoles of her nipples into hard nubs. Knowing he was about to take her, she tensed into rigidity. It hadn't been that painful since the first time!

"Aaaauugghhhh!" she cried.

The ramrod of his prick speared the sensitive edges of her moist pussy. Its harsh pressure lunged against the tight elastic opening of her cunt. He shoved harder.

"Yyiiieeee!" she tremored as the tip slipped through, cruelly stretching the tight rubbery opening until Mona felt as though her thighs would split apart with the relentless outward pressure.

"Relax!" he hissed, pushing deeper and thrusting her legs out and up to her breast to give him greater access.

He fell forward, his weight smashing her full firm tits back into her chest. Thrusting his hips forward at the same time, he slid his long thick cock into her cunt like a raging freight train pushing the soft moist flesh of her vaginal walls in rippling waves before it. There was no stopping it until with a loud groan his balls smacked heavily into the upturned cheeks of her tightly clenched ass.

"Oh, God! God!" she cried. She had never been so filled in her life.

It felt as though he had ripped her vagina in a thousand tiny shreds as he speared into her without mercy or thought of injury. And now, now his selfish shaft lay sunk deep in her belly, filling every part of her insides. There wasn't one tiny ridge of flesh on it that she couldn't feel as it pressed against the soft flesh of her cunt like a sword sliced cruelly into its piteous victim's belly.

Driven by raw lust, he ground his prick deep into her, mindless of the pain he caused. Gyrating and rocking above her, he stimulated the savage burning that turned from torture to sheer bliss. Mona's body began involuntarily to react. There was no longer any reason to fight the lewd flames of desire coursing through her veins. She had lost the battle against him. Though the thought of her total surrender sent chills running along the base of her spine as she felt him skewering wetly into her, the black world outside their coition was pregnant with horror and helplessness against the unknown.

Her whole body twitched and writhed beneath him and she groaned incessantly into the moistness of his mouth. Low hums of servile acceptance, swelling in passionate torrents from deep in her chest, broke forth. Her face was contorted with lust and every muscle strained. Her nostrils flared and a light sweat filmed her face and disheveled hair.

He lifted her buttocks up so that her vagina would flower open to receive his cock to greater and greater depths. The pain was almost gone now. His impaling rod of flesh jerked and quivered beyond control within her.

Mona thrashed under his pounding weight as they rose and fell in the wild abandon of sexual lust. Carl grunted and groaned while his prick bored far up into the hidden, untouched recesses of her womb. Like a lunatic he crashed into her in hot pursuit of the treasure he sought in the miraculous ecstasy of orgasm.

"Aaaaaggghhhh!" she screamed, her breath piercing the stagnant air with its cry.

Like a piston gone mad, the ramrod of his prick plummeted into her womb.

She strove with it to keep the hard ridges of its barreling length within her.

He twisted and pounded above her, forcing his prick to ravage the depths of her cunt. Again and again he drove into her, his blue eyes unseeing; only her image, like an imprint on his madness, remained. His fingers were electrified at the plundering, manipulating and ravishing of her tits.

Mona's legs locked around his heaving torso, her heels whipping at his back, her nails clawing his flesh as she sought to pull him into her. The rock-hard column of his prick was caught in the tense muscles of her channel, her cunt sucking it deeper as her hips and thighs writhed and contorted beneath his thrusts.

Make me forget! she wanted to shriek. Make me forget! There is no house, no island, no fog, nothing to call out or make noises in the night! Only Carl. Tall and strong. Handsome and masculine. Pretend! Pretend it's a lovely warm exotic isle. Just you and Carl. Why am I doing this? Make me forget! Harder! Push harder! I want to know only your penis deep inside me. Only you and me joined as one. Adam and Eve before life and death were truly begun. Only us!

His pungent male odor was suffocating her and his muscles were hard to her touch. They were like marble, a Renaissance statue, not flesh and blood. Her lips ajar with panting moans and mewlings, she could taste his salty sweat as he thrashed against her and sputtered his mad gutteral curses at the pain and blissful torture of the strangled cock in her belly.

Suddenly it began fitful spastic jerkings and she knew the time had come. She was exploding in her own womb, gushing forth the cum of her own climax.

In long hard drives he pounded into her.

"Yaa . . . aahh!" came a fitful cry. Was it from him or Mona?

With a careening, searing lunge he speared her womb, his cock gushing forth in long, torrid spumes of sperm. Erupting with fury and passion, the jet-like streams of white, sticky cum cascaded into her womb, flooding her belly and channel, drowning his jerking cock.

Her buttocks were wet with the hot, spilling fluid and their short pubic hair matted with the liquid as their groins merged and ground together once more. His balls, wet and shrinking, slapped against the upturned cheeks of her ass with the rhythm of their final spurts.

When he was milked dry, his balls hanging limply in his crotch, she surrendered his equally depleted and flaccid prick. It withdrew wetly, almost bubbling with the memory of its spent enthusiasm.

Carl lay exhausted beside her in the yielding mattress of the high four poster. He was panting, but his hands still held her protectively, caressing her gently.

"Hurt you?" he whispered.

"No," she responded, cuddling up to him once more. "You assured me."

"That I'm strong or what?" he demanded with a chuckle.

"Just that there's a man in the house to watch over me," she answered.

"And more," he insisted, pressing his groin to hers once more.