Chapter 3

Mercy couldn't believe the incredible sensations that were threatening to engulf her quivering young flesh. Her bulging red nipples felt as if they were about to explode. Beads of perspiration pursed in an even line across her forehead and her upper lip. The end of the hairbrush, drawn as if by a magnet, had inserted itself into the upper regions of her glistening wet cunt, stroking the pink cuntal lips with furious abandon.

Her groin felt as if it were bursting with fire. Sensations came and went in waves of longing that had nothing to do with anything else she had ever before experienced. Even her anus seemed to prickle with some inconceivable desire.

Her legs felt weak, her knees like jelly. Her beautiful nostrils dilated in her perfect little nose as she breathed heavily, like a horse running a fast furlong.

In her two hands, the hairbrush was an instrument of the most exquisite torture. The beautiful blonde nurse found herself mewling and whimpering without stop, helpless to control the mewling sounds that emanated from the high parts of her luscious, smooth white throat.

As she gasped and moaned with a fitful combination of ecstasy and agony, her head fell back and her shining long blonde hair trailed almost to the carpet at her dainty little feet. The lips of her cunt kissed and hugged the end of the hairbrush, sloppy and wet as the agonized clitoris clung to it like glue with a tinglish desperation. Her huge breasts were now covered with a tracery of blue, desire-filled veins which began and ended in her enormous hard and upstanding nipples. Her tits felt bigger and tighter than normally, and if she didn't find some outlet for these incredible feelings she was drowning in, she felt she would go mad.

Her pink mouth parted as she gasped again and again, her tiny sliver of a tongue darting out to lick her parched lips. Everything in her seemed to be straining towards an almost incredible surcease.

She looked down at what she was doing and this seemed to excite her all the more. She felt as if she were looking from somewhere outside of herself, as if this evil thing had nothing to do with the real her. She could see the end of the hairbrush enfolded in the fleecy yellow hairs around her cuntal lips. She could see it disappear and probe and rub furiously as the pink lips seemed to moan with ecstasy and cling with delight. How wet she was there! She couldn't believe it. Was this really her? Pink cuntal lips all wet and gleaming, soppy with juice from God-knew-where?

But God, how wonderful it felt! How totally unlike anything else she had ever experienced!

Down below Jack Armstrong was gripping his wife's long black hair, his dick buried deeply in her hotly sucking mouth like a sword in 'a scabbard. Mrs Armstrong's eyes and cheeks bulged out as she . sucked hungrily. The man's groans reached Mercy's ears and she masturbated all the more furiously.

And then Mr. Armstrong's entire body seemed to erupt with volcanic passion. She could see his hips thrust upwards, she could hear his obscene cursing. The sun reflected on his glittering belt buckle where it dangled, and his wife's nose buried in his crisp brown pubic hair.

Then suddenly his body began to jerk as if he were riding a horse, and Mercy felt her breath intake sharply. For as he clutched at his wife's head, his face straining terribly, it was obvious that his penis was pumping some sort of liquid into her mouth. A white cream trickled out around the edges of the older woman's mouth .

The sight of Mr. Armstrong's orgasm was the signal that broke the dam of Mercy's pent-up desires.

"OH! OH! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhh ooooooooooooo ..." she wailed. Her beautiful blue eyes shut, the long dark lashes resting on her rosy, lust-heated cheeks. Her firm, smoothly rounded belly began humping uncontrollably over the thin patch of golden pubic hair, and then, like a great river overflowing its banks, a great wash of liquid came rushing down through her insides, out through her cunt, and flooding the hairbrush with a musky, sticky essence of cum. The sensation of her orgasm was blinding, like a minor atomic implosion, flooding the miracle of her gorgeous blonde young being with a feeling that was sweet and agonizing all at the same time. She felt as if her nerve endings were being torn apart by wild horses. The orgasm seemed to exist not only in her groin but in her fingertips and toenails and hair ends as well. Her pelvis shuddered like a machine gun . her gorgeous long legs turned to butter. She breathed and sighed and groaned and swayed like a sapling in a wind. And then it was all over except for the incredible aftermath ... the astonished disbelief that she could have felt such a thing at all ...

Jack slipped his slowly deflating cock from out of his wife's mouth as fast as she would let him. Now that he had blown off he was no longer much interested.

But Letitia was so crazy about licking up the last possible drop of his cum that she almost refused to let him go and he was afraid he was going to have to beat the hell out of her to make her let go. Unfortunately -- or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it -- creamy white spunk was just like whipped cream to Letitia. She wanted as much of it as she could get, and if it had been sold in the supermarkets, she would have wanted to drink a couple of gallons a day. As it was, the cupful or so she got from Jack all day was scarcely enough to satisfy her. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she was such a deeply satisfying cocksucker. He could blow his load into her hotly sucking face all day and all night.

"Come on, baby," he gripped her dark black hair, "I want to go make a sandwich."

"MMmmmph. Glmmphhh." These were the only sounds he managed to get from her while she continued to lick and nibble at his dick flecks of white cum flooding her rosy lips.

He gripped her hair more tightly and began to drag her off as she begged him to let her continue.

"Oh please, Jack ... God I beg you . just let me lick it a little bit more ..."

"Come on, baby. You've had enough. Jack wants to make a sandwich. Besides, you'll get heart trouble from my cum ... it's rich in cholesterol."

"I don't give a shit! I love that soppy stuff! Let mama lick it!"

He laughed and pushed her aside, shoving his sticky but deflated eight inches back into his drawers and zipping up his pants.

"You're a goddamn sadist, Jack. I don't know why the fuck I ever married you."

He tickled her under the chin. "Because I'm the best goddamned assfucker in the world," he grinned.

"Oh shit, Jack." Letitia stood up, straightening out her fulsome boobs beneath the overtight halter. She swung her long black hair around over her back to let it fall in the crack of her ass. "You know it's not just that, Jack," she said.

He snickered and stood up. "Christ, you're not going to tell me we've got a `meaningful relationship,' are you?"

Letitia's eyes moistened. "Don't make fun of me, Jack. Whatever my reasons are, I love you. And I'd do anything I could to hold you, you know that."

His face screwed up in puzzlement. He couldn't make head nor tail of whatever the hell it was she was getting at. "What the fuck is eating you anyway?"

Letty stood up saucily and gestured in the direction of the house. "I know you were just letting me suck you off in order to give that young blonde cunt a good eyeful of your big dick, Jack."

"Don't talk like a fucking jackass. She doesn't mean a thing to me, baby. You're the only piece of juicy twat I could ever love, you know that."

She shook her finger at him. "That'd better be right, Jack. Because if you ever messed with anyone else, I'd cut your fuckin' heart out."

"Shit." His face solidified, hard and rocklike. "There's no one in the world like you, sweetie. You've got them all beat. I don't know what the fuck you're so jealous for."

"Just you remember what I said. Now, go get your fuckin' sandwich."

Jack went into the kitchen of the big house to make his sandwich, but now somehow he'd lost a good part of his appetite. He absent-mindedly buttered some bread and put together some sliced tomato with ham, but his stomach wasn't in it.

Unfortunately Letitia hadn't been far off the mark with her suspicions about him and the new nurse.

That young blonde nurse was just a gorgeous fucking thing. Ever since she had arrived, just a few short days ago, with barely the clothes on her back, he had thought of almost nothing else. He had visions of her, of him riding up between her legs, his mighty cudgel skewering deeply into the quivering wet insides of her sloppy dripping young cunt, the golden hair around her opening caressing and stroking his balls as they slapped against her nicely rounded young ass.

But those were pipedreams. Unless something exceptional happened, there was no_ way in the world he was going to realize his desires in that quarter. Letitia was jealous as a hen in a farmyard. There was no way this rooster was going to be able to accomplish anything with the blonde nurse while she was around; the threat of violence was too real. He had no doubt at all that she would put a steak knife between his shoulder blades if he so much as hinted at any interest in the young girl.

But Christ, what a dish! He had been thinking of nothing but her for the last two days. Positively huge uptilted breasts, jutting out at you and daring you to suck on them, to touch them, to live with them, to fondle them. And all that gleaming yellow hair bound up so severely in a bun.

Clear blue eyes, long dark lashes, a pouting, silky mouth that just begged to be kissed, to have its rose petal lips forced back over bright white teeth. Youthful teeth. A mouth that begged to have a tongue forced down its throat. And the thought of that succulent-looking red mouth wrapped around his cock was enough to make him swoon.

But what was the use of dreaming? He hadn't a chance with Letitia around.

Jack gritted his teeth and took a nasty bite out of his sandwich. Those big breasts of hers had to be at least a 42D cup, but they weren't droopy in the slightest. They were probably hard as cannonball if the truth were known.

And that waist! Christ, it was so small that a man could put two hands around it. In her starched white nurses' uniform Mercy Gnaster was probably the sexiest thing the Winslow household had ever seen. Long, long legs he wanted to rip to pieces with his tongue. She was probably almost five-foot-ten. She had legs like a horse. He wanted to insert his tongue into her virginal asshole and never let up.

He could just imagine it. Tongue in her asshole, fingers rummaging around in her dripping, hair-fringed cunt. Paradise!

What was she? Twenty-three, twenty-two? Old enough to have had a dick between her legs at one time or another -- and yet somehow he doubted it. Nurse Mercy had such a prim expression about her. Somehow he had the sneaking suspicion she was still a virgin.

Christ, if she was! He hadn't screwed a virgin in a dog's age!

But what was the use? If he ever messed with that nurse, he might as well make reservations at the nearest cemetery. Letitia knew everything; there wasn't a way in the world to hide anything from her. Sometimes he wondered if their own room was wired. That would have been just like Grandpa Winslow.

Which reminded him. It was probably high time he had a look in on the old dead-to-the-world duffer.

Letitia's grandfather was well over ninety and hanging to life by a very slender thread, having been paralyzed by a stroke just two years before. Letitia and Jack had then come to live with him, being his only remaining family. In the intervening time a number of nurses had come and gone, most of them unable to deal with a patient that required such a sizable amount of exclusive care.

For the last two years Grandpa Winslow had been lying flat on his back -- excepting occasional turning -- like a pig being roasted on a spit, Jack once said -- in his bed, staring at the ceiling. His eyes moved but nothing else apparently. He couldn't speak, so it was impossible to know what it was he was thinking or feeling.

It would have been an easy thing to just let him die, and Jack had often said so.

But Letitia wouldn't hear of it. "He's my grandfather, Jack. I just couldn't do it."

"But think of the money -- "

"I just couldn't."

The old man was supposed to be worth millions, having prospected for years in the Canadian Yukon and struck some high-grade copper ore while he was there. They were still amazed at some of the royalty checks that came in, but they went right to the bank in any case.

So this was the picture of their mutual situation, as Jack entered the old man's downstairs room. "Hello, grandpa."

The old eyes, now moldering yellow, swivelled in his direction. Nothing else appeared to move.

"Back again," grunted Jack. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair.

The wizened old man watched hi

Jack had never pulled any punches with grandpa, and he didn't now. "I have to admit I wish you were dead, grandpa." He looked around. "Then me and Letitia could get clear of here. We used to have a pretty swinging life in California."

It was safe enough to talk to grandpa like this ... there was. no way it would ever be repeated to Letitia. In any case; Jack didn't think the old prune minded. Human natute was not a secret after ninety years plus. Old people were always in the way, and young people always thought so.

Did he detect a trace of smile on the aged thin lips? No, that had to be his imagination.

"Look at it this way," Jack went on, "you're bedridden and paralyzed, and Letty and I aren't exactly crazy about this gloomy big house. And with your money we could have a lot of good times. You see that, don't you?"

Jack was surprised to see the old man's eyelashes blink furiously. Some time ago, unknown to Letty, he had devised a system of communication with grandpa based upon the use of his eyes. This signal meant grandpa was about to communicate something.

"Go ahead, grandpa. I'm reading you."

With this the paralyzed ancient. being moving his ! eyes in an array of shifting patterns coupled with occasionally blinking. Jack gasped. He could believe what the old man was saying.

In plain language, he was communicating: Do it.

But do what? Could he possibly mean ...?

No, that couldn't be right. No one ever wanted to die. But then on the other hand ...

"Grandpa, are you telling me that you want me to put you out of your misery?"