Chapter 2
Russ's hair was brown. His eyes were oddly light, nearly an amber hue. His build was good and solid, showing no hint of approaching middle age.
He was nearly three years older than Janet, and that might have been one of the reasons she'd married him. It had made him seem so mature, so gentle and understanding after it had happened.
His face was squarish and handsome. He was still attractive to her, and she could understand how she had chosen him for her boy friend so long ago.
She saw his muscles ripple under his naked chest as he took a step toward her. He didn't look sick. He didn't look as if he needed to go to the clinic for two days of testing, but that was where they were going tomorrow and why. Mostly why. As long as they had to drive to the middle of the state, it was agreed that the girls would take in Wonder Gardens while he was at the clinic-that they would all go and act like tourists for three days, seeing the sights and lounging around the pool at the motel.
But he looked strong and fit. Just as he'd looked sixteen years ago, when he'd stood back and watched them rape her and fuck her and use her totally, making her come and come and shudder and groan with shameful bliss.
He'd watched and done nothing to stop them, and she still couldn't forgive him for that-for making her shame so real.
"Honey? Are you all right?" he asked gently.
Janet swallowed. She felt as if there were a mental shake of her head and then a sudden clearing, and he wasn't a stranger any more.
"Yes," she said, stopping her retreat into the bathroom.
"Mmm, you look nice," he smiled, still coming toward her. His voice was low and charged, and the look was in his eye.
She licked her lips and couldn't help the way her gaze flicked to his crotch. She saw the bulge of his cock behind the thin material. She sucked in her breath and then nearly charged out of the bathroom, going one way and then the other as she tried to get around him, feeling like a trapped animal.
He caught her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Janet, what's the matter?" he asked gently.
"I-I'm worried about Penny," she said quickly, not looking at him. "I think Penny should get home. It's late. We're leaving early. I don't like her being out like this."
"She's already home, honey," he said soothingly. "Everything's under control." He pulled her against him until her breasts thrust against his naked chest. "Let's go to bed now, huh?"
She gasped with the touch of her nipples against him and the slight flattening of her big tits. She tried to pull away, but she felt the quick tightening of his fingers on her shoulders.
When she felt the quick lift of his prick between them, the warm rod pressing in between her soft thighs until it was against her tight slit, she tried to pull back again.
His grip became even stronger. She looked quickly into his face. She saw the smile go through a subtle change from warm and hopeful to half a grimace, and she knew it was going to happen again.
She hated it when it happened. He would insist, and she'd resist. She'd feel guilty for making him tight and wheedle and plead for a fuck from his wife.
But she'd hate it if she gave in, too. There seemed only one solution-for him to stop wanting to fuck her.
That was why she'd tried to gain weight. It was why she was sometimes inexcusable bitchy with him. Nothing seemed to work. She'd often wished he'd get another woman on the side, a cunt he could blast his sperm into before he came home.
But he wasn't that way. Even when they were going together and she wouldn't fuck him because she was a virgin and saving her sweet pussy for when she was married, he didn't go with other girls.
There was a strange unspoken agreement not to talk about divorce, either. She didn't want him to leave. She didn't know what she'd do if he left. She'd have no one to hold accountable, no one to blame, no one to punish for what had happened. She didn't understand why he hadn't left her.
It seemed they stayed together not from love but from sickness. And even if that was only half right, it had to change. There had to be a change.
"Russ ..." she gasped quietly, wincing under the pressure of his fingers.
"It's been nearly two weeks, honey," he said tightly.
She nearly crowed at him. He'd miscounted badly this time. "Russ I... I don't feel too well, sweetie."
"I don't feel so hot myself, Janet. I ache. My balls ache. My back aches. My stomach feels in knots. All I do is ache any more. Haven't you punished me enough?"
"Punished you!" she cried. "That's ridiculous! For what, Russ?"
He looked at her. "You know."
"I haven't the slightest idea in the world! For spending some extra money so that we can make a little vacation out of your appointment? Don't be ridiculous, Russ. I think that's fine."
He stopped squeezing her shoulders so hard. His expression changed. She'd stopped him again-and yet she knew she hadn't. She sighed softly. There was no getting out of it.
"All right," she said reluctantly, her stomach twisting. "Damn it, all right."
She pulled free of him. She shut off the overhead light, putting the room in darkness. She slipped past him and slid under the sheet, pulling it up around her neck, keeping her nightie down around her thighs.
He switched on the little lamp on the night stand, and she blinked and turned her head, speaking sharply. "Don't turn that on, Russ. You know I don't like it."
"I like it. I like to see you. You have an exciting body, Janet. Look what it does to me."
She heard the whisper of his pajamas and the grin in his voice, and she knew what he wanted her to look at. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and bit down on it painfully.
Once more, the pain didn't help. She couldn't keep herself from turning her head and looking, just for a brief moment. She sucked in her breath silently and hated the throb of sensation that went through her belly.
Russ's prick jutted from his loins. It soared toward her, rising at an angle over her head. She saw the full veins, the ridges and bumps, the swollen, red, mushroom-shaped head of it.
She saw his balls, drawn up under the pulsing root into hard, packed spheres that had to be brimming over with sperm by now. She saw the wide eye at the tip where it would squirt out in a hosing flood and fill her pussy.
She whipped her head back and put her hand to her mouth with a silent cry. It was just like the cocks in her mind-looming, huge, throbbing and hard, full of hot sperm.
"Russ-turn out the light!" she nearly screamed at him.
She heard him sigh. The switch clicked, and the room went dark. Nearly dark. Moonlight filtered around the curtains enough to see shapes by.
He got into the bed beside her, sliding the sheet from her body. She turned her head aside again and made little grasping motions with her fingers, trying to draw it back up.
"Mmmm, it's been a long time again, honey," he whispered, lying beside her, nuzzling her cheek with his lips.
His hand went to her flat tummy. It was warm there. She felt her muscles shiver slightly at the touch. She held her breath, knowing what he was going to do with his hand next, wishing that he would once-just once-not do it.
He slid it up her nightie and cupped her big, pointing tit, wrapping his fingers around the firm cone, squeezing. He began to pant against the side of her face with passion, reminding her again of the cramped back seat of the car.
"Oh, Russ-" she gasped, stopping herself from telling him to quit feeling her tit.
He misunderstood. He thought it was a cry of passion. His prick jerked against the side of her hip heatedly, and he came half over her, searching for her lips.
"Janet-Janet..." he moaned happily. "Ohhhh, honey-at last! God, slip this nightie off, honey! Let me feel your tits against my chest! Let me feel all of you against me!"
He started lifting up the nightie, scooping it under her round butt cheeks, baring the sides of her hips, raising it past her dry, pinched-together pussy lips.
Janet tossed her head, biting down hard on her lower lip to keep from crying out. She felt trapped again. It was all she could do to keep from pushing and hitting and jumping out of bed.
Then, somehow, with one large sweep, he had her nightie up around her neck, and her tits thrust upward into the moonlight.
"Ohhh, honey!" he gasped, squeezing one cone and then the other. He dipped his head. His lips opened. His mouth sucked the end of her tit into the warm, wet cavern, and his tongue rolled her stiff, ever-thrusting nipple wildly.
In spite of herself, sensation blazed through her. There was a little arch of her spine that made her tit end push deeper into his mouth, and then she controlled the impulsiveness, the shameless surge, and the sensation went dead.
"Oh, Russ ..." she gasped again. Her hands lifted. She nearly cupped his head with them, intending to push his mouth away from her tit. She balled her fingers into fists and held her arms rigidly at her sides.
She heard the lewd sucking sounds his mouth made on her tits. She could barely feel the wash and pluck of his tongue across her nipples. She felt satisfied with how well she was doing.
He ran his hand to her mound. She felt his fingers in her golden bush. He forced her thighs open just a little-just enough so that he could cup her pussy and squeeze gently at her cunt lips.
She made the deadness creep down her body to her twat. When his finger snaked into the tight, dry gap between her cunt petals, she barely felt it. It was more an irritating friction against tender tissues than a sensitive stroking of her pussy.
"Ohhhh, honey, what a hot cunt!" he gasped. "God. I love it! Janet-I love you!"
It was a game they played. Every time, they played it. He didn't complain that her pussy was dry and unresponsive. And she didn't tell him how guilty it made her feel to have him moon ecstatically over a dry, dead cunt.
"Honey, I've got to kiss your pussy first," he gasped, playing out the next step of their game.
He slid down to her hips. She felt his warm breath on her thighs. His lips kissed along them and up to her mound and back down again, circling closer to the gap between her legs.
He pushed her thighs wider apart. She didn't know why she couldn't separate them voluntarily, why she made him force them apart, as if he were going to rape her. It was the pattern of sixteen years, the way they did it.
He puffed breath over her twat lips. She felt the moistness. His fingertips stroked along the puffy petals and then parted them. She knew he was staring at her pinkness, filling his eyes with the sight of her clit and her muscle-rimmed vagina.
She wanted to snap her thighs closed and twist away. She was having trouble keeping the sensation under control as he fondled her. His touch was gentle and smooth, but she made him force her so that it was rape again.
His tongue flattened and pressed into her silky gap. He massaged her pink meat. He flicked the tip of her clit with it. Then she felt his warm bath of saliva on her cunt gap as his tongue licked and circled and washed.
He wasn't just kissing her pussy, just sucking it. He was lubricating it. They both knew that was what he was doing, and yet they made out otherwise.
"Russ..." she moaned again, her fingers clenching and opening, The urge to push his head away was nearly overpowering. His tongue tip was drilling into her silken pussy mouth, circling around, pressing and massaging against her vaginal sphincter.
He fucked it up her pussy, reaching as far as he could. He made it dart back and forth. His hands cupped her round buttocks and lifted her twat up toward his face, and she could feel his chin pressing into her crotch, close to her asshole.
She tossed her head. She was having trouble keeping the sensations back now. She wanted him to stop fucking her cunt with his tongue and bathing her pussy flesh with his saliva, making her all wet and slippery, as if she were wantonly hot.
She felt her thighs jerk apart slightly on their own. She felt a tiny shiver pass through her hips and make her twat lift upward. The inside of her cunt was getting shamefully wet, now. It had to be more than his saliva. It had to be partly her own lustful honey seeping from her satiny walls.
She moaned and caught her breath, preventing the sound from being a moan of passion. She rocked her head back and forth again. She felt her nipples stretching to unbelievable lengths.
When she felt the urge for him to squeeze and fondle her tits again, she knew it had gone too far.
"Oh, God," she said, pushing his head from her pussy. "Fuck me, Russ-hurry up and fuck me!"
"I want to suck your pussy some more, honey," he said breathily.
"No-I don't want you to! Fuck me!" Get it over with! She wanted to add.
He slid his hands from under her ass. She knew he was hesitating. Her pussy mouth quivered with anticipation, and she could feel herself almost wanting to be fucked.
She reached for his cock. The hard, throbbing organ filled her hand. She yanked on it none too gently.
"Fuck me!" she gasped.
He knew her too well. He knew it wasn't a plea of passion, but a command of impatience instead.
"Come with me, Janet," he said softly, his voice a plea.
"Fuck me, Russ! Oh, hurry and fuck me with your big prick!"
She pulled at his cock, jacking it while it was aimed toward her pussy. He sighed first, a tired, hopeless kind of sound. And then he gasped as her fingers played with his prick and made him too hot to try to change the outcome of the old game between them.
His swollen, pulsing cockhead touched the saliva-slick flesh of her pussy mouth. He gasped again. He pressed forward, nosing his prick into her pussy, yielding to his heat.
Janet gasped with him, but it was for a different reason. She felt her cunt tunnel squirm and shiver all along its length. There was an automatic spasm in her thighs as she tried to close them and clamp her pussy shut and deny entrance of his cock.
She tipped her head back. Her tits thrust into the air. She heard his long moan and felt the slide of his hard, hard cock into her body.
The images came to her mind again, and she nearly screamed. Her cunt went dry and tight, and the thrust of his prick pulled at her pink tissues and dragged them inward until it hurt.
The burning pain in her pussy told her that she had succeeded again. She whimpered and tossed under him as his chest came down and made the ends of her tits flatten.
"Ah! Russ! Oh, God ..." she moaned, wincing with the pain, trying to make him believe it was passion, yet knowing that he knew it was anything but passion.
He thrust his hard prick to the depths of her cunt and held it there. His shaft throbbed heavily. His balls lay in the crack of her spread ass.
He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head to the side and whimpered again. She felt a tightening in him, a giving up. He began fucking her, drawing back and plunging forward.
His prick abraded the length of her dry pussy, causing a tube of fire in the center of her body.
She squeezed her eyes shut and saw the pricks, the leering, sweaty faces over her. She felt the pain of their raping pricks plunging in and out of her cunt, defiling her, using her, spoiling her.
She didn't respond, and that was the way it should have been. She had become proficient at not responding to the lance of raping cock in her body.
One day-one time-she would have not responded enough to atone for the terrible night in the back seat of the car when she had come and come and howled wantonly for more.
And only then would the game change-when the guilt was gone . ..
"Janet..." Russ gasped. "God, you have a slick, tight, wonderful pussy, darling! Ahhh, I can't hold it back much longer!"
"Don't hold back! Come! Come in me!" she cried.
"Come with me, Janet!" he pleaded again, his prick throbbing nearly out of control in her pussy.
"Ah! Ah!" she gasped, trying to urge him on.
His cock plunged into her again. The friction was nearly unbearable. Liar! she wanted to cry, knowing her pussy was about as slick as a tube of sandpaper.
His hands swept between them and grasped her tits. He squeezed the big cones. He lunged forward again, ramming his prick to the back of her pussy.
His prick bucked and swelled. The head danced in her depths. His balls moved in the crack of her ass, tightening.
"Ah!" he gasped, clutching her tightly. His ass shook, and his prick exploded. "Yaaaagh!" he growled against the side of her face.
She felt it-the ultimate defilement. It came in torrents. It boiled and squirted in thick puddles from the tip of his prick. His sperm hosed into her body, and her pussy tunnel went immediately slippery and wet.
He pumped back and forth, his prick reveling in the sudden lubrication, the sudden silkiness of her cunt. He twisted atop her body and let the last spurts of his cum dribble into her.
He quieted. He held her tits tightly and sighed. After a moment, Janet pushed at him, and he pulled out of her pussy, his cock still hard and stiff.
She said nothing. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it behind her.
She blinked in the blaze of light when she flicked the switch. She felt her stomach cramp, and she held her arm over it tightly. She was shaking. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw the way her hair was mussed, the way her nightie was askew on her body, the way her face had a pale cast to it.
Raped . . .
The word came to her mind, as it always did. She looked at her image again. Yes, she looked raped. Her stomach churned: adding to the feeling and the image.
She'd been violated. She felt violated. Yet, there was a sense of victory that made the corners of her mouth turn upward with just a hint of a smile.
She hadn't come. She hadn't yielded. It had hurt. She had conducted herself properly-in the manner of a woman who had been raped.
She lifted the hem of her nightie. She looked at her pussy in the mirror. The lips were bloated and red, parted slightly, revealing the pinkness between them.
Her cunt meat glistened with juice. She felt a slithering sensation inside her cunt, and then she watched a dollop of sperm emerge from her pussy slit and string toward the floor.
She looked at it with disgust. It was proof that she'd been violated. She ran the water and got a washcloth. She put the wet rag to her pussy and wiped her twat again and again, cleansing it of the nastiness, the stickiness.
She heard the bedroom door open and close. She stopped wiping and listened. That was strange. Usually, Russ turned onto his side and went to sleep after shooting his wad into her body.
Her fingers trembled. She didn't know why he'd left the room, and she didn't care right then. She made another circle over her pussy with the warm cloth and felt a surge of pulsing go through her belly.
She licked her lips. She felt her nipples itch. She washed her pussy harder. There was a point when she wasn't washing it off any more, and she made her way to the toilet seat again.
She didn't hesitate this time. Her pussy was aflame. Honey began to pour from her vaginal walls. The flood of it washed out the last traces of sperm.
There was no cock in her pussy now. She could let her body respond now, and there would be no guilt, no shame.
She moaned softly and swept her nightie up over her big tits. She cupped the thrusting cones and pulled at the nipples until they fairly screamed with sensation.
She thrust her legs before her, sliding her butt to the edge of the seat. She spread her thighs wide and dropped the cloth and masturbated her pussy vigorously with her fingers.
She arched and strained. She pushed her cunt up against her hand. Sensation blazed through her body, feeling good-so good!
She sucked in her breath. She turned her attention to the other room. She didn't hear him. She hadn't heard him come back in. He was gone-perhaps to the kitchen. Did she dare do it?
She licked her lips. Her clit throbbed and stretched under the tip of her rolling finger, and she could feel the slippery cunt honey dribbling down the crack of her ass again and puddling at her pulsing, quivering anus.
She moaned and rose swiftly from the seat. She slid a cabinet drawer open silently and lifted out a Kotex box. With a furtive glance over her shoulder, despite the fact that the door was locked, she reached inside and withdrew the vibrator.
She looked at the cylindrical shape of it and ran her fingers up and down its length. Her pussy lips bloated and spread with anticipation, and she shivered slightly.
Back on the seat again, she listened for sounds from the other room one more time, and then gave the base of the vibrator a twist. The humming was soft. Her pussy spasmed.
She spread her cunt lips with the fingers of one hand and lifted her foot to the edge of the seat, making her twat split wide open. She sucked in her breath and put the tip of the vibrator against her twat.
"Ohhhh, God!" she whispered, tipping her head back.
She trailed the nose of it up the heated inner surface of one pussy lip and then down the other. She felt her whole cunt come alive with the stimulating shaking of the tool.
She put it at the root of her clit and nearly screamed with the glorious sensation it gave her. She slid the shaking head up and down her slit, making it circle her cunt mouth.
Her pussy muscles squeezed and shivered, and she put the tip into her wet folds. She felt the way the tool shivered and tickled, the way her cunt seemed to be trying to suck it inside.
She arched and twisted and moaned. The vibrator was shaped like a prick. It was hard like a prick. But it wasn't a prick. It wouldn't squirt sperm into her pussy and flood her tissues. It couldn't rape her tender body, either, because she controlled it and the way it fucked her.
There was no contradiction in what she was doing. A vibrator was not a prick, and, therefore, she could fuck herself with it. Being hot after being raped was not the same as being wildly and shamefully wanton while being raped, and, therefore, it was all right to come as hard and as often as she wanted around the thrusting tool.
She pushed inward. The shivering, shaking shaft slipped up her drenched cunt. Her whole middle seemed to come alive. She vibrated all over. She could feel the tingles reach clear up into the ends of her big-nippled tits.
"Ahhhh, God!" she cried softly.
Her wrist worked back and forth. Her fingers held the base of the tool tightly. She felt the slippery, hot honey run down the shaft and coat the tips of her fingers.
She fucked herself wildly, squeezing her bloated, drenched lips around the shaft at the same time. She let her wet cunt twist all around it and suck inward.
She felt it coming over her-the pulsing, shuddering sensations of orgasm. She fucked her hips up and down, making her pussy slobber and suck at the hard shaft that shook her whole middle into a tingling blob of sensation.
She squeezed and rolled her big tits in her free hand and shoved the vibrator all the way into her cunt. It went so far into her slippery tunnel that her fingertips fucked into her spasming flesh after it.
"Ahhhhhgh!" she cried, arching wildly, spasming and shaking all over.
She came and came. It seemed that she couldn't come enough. Her pussy muscles clamped and shuddered around the tool, and the base bobbed up and down as the whole shaft began to squirt out backward from her drenched pussy.
She gasped harshly, blinking. That had been a hard one. But it hadn't been enough. She needed more-more!
She slid from the toilet seat onto the carpeted floor. She lifted her knees back to her big tits. Her gold-furred pussy split wide open. The pink meat gleamed with her honey. The vibrator hummed and buzzed and shook in her fingers.
She reached between her split thighs and pointed the tip. She brought it down against her crotch and searched, and then she gasped again when unbelievable sensation charged through her hot body.
"Ohhhh-up my asshole!" she gasped heatedly.
The pointed tip shook. Her anus pulsed and jittered wildly, the puckered mouth spreading open under the slippery point. She thrust her other hand between her thighs and sloshed her fingers through her drenched pussy flesh, rolling her clit, massaging her twat lips, sinking her fingers into her grasping cunt hole.
She pushed the vibrator up her ass slowly, gasping, pausing while her tight anal mouth adjusted to the girth and hardness of the shaking tool.
One day, she was going to get it all the way up her butt. She was going to stretch her asshole open enough to sink the shaft deep. And then, after that, she was going to buy another one and fuck her pussy with it at the same time so that her whole bottom would be vibrated into a jellied blob of orgasming flesh.
"Ah! Ah, God!" she gasped suddenly.
She rolled on the floor and masturbated her pussy wildly. Here was the whole difficulty. She couldn't get more than the tip up her asshole without coming.
"Eeeee, God!" she cried thinly, her legs flying straight up into the air.
Spasms crushed through her until she couldn't move. She lay there with her body splayed open and shuddered, trying to wriggle her fingers in her pussy, trying to fuck the vibrator deeper into her asshole, but unable to.
Her anus spasmed wildly. The slippery tool shot from the tight hole and plopped quietly on the floor, still buzzing, right between her clenched asscheeks.
She went slightly dizzy from the terrible force of her orgasm. It seemed a long time before she was able to clamp her hand over her whole crotch and press inward against her quivering asshole with the tip of her finger while her pussy mouth sucked around her imbedded thumb.
She shook her hand up and down and jiggled out the last shudder possible. Then her legs slowly lowered, her thighs closing around the buzzing, humming tool.
She lay there and panted, her body totally limp and satiated now. After a long while, she reached between her legs and grasped the vibrator and shut it off.
The room became silent. She wondered if Russ had come back into the bedroom and had heard her, if he were lying in bed right now, knowing what she'd done.
But some sixth sense told her he wasn't, and the little twitch of shame went away. She got up slowly and put the tool away and closed the drawer until the next time.
She opened the door. She was glad to see that Russ wasn't in bed. She slipped in and fluffed the pillow under her head and sighed contentedly.
The thought crossed her mind that this was terribly wrong-that there had to be a change. But, right then, she was too satisfied to think about it any more, and she let sleep come over her like a black, velvety fog.