Chapter 6
Sally sat for a few moments, paralyzed with fear, as she stared at the hulk of the house, dark and dismal as midnight itself. Nothing stirred within; outside, only the occasional swaying of the treetops gave any semblance of life.
Oh, dear God! What had happened? Mike was dead, had been for hours, was lying there in a pool of his own blood. A little wail of terror slashed through the night, cutting the silence like a knife through the water. Sally heard it, and it sent new waves of panic slamming through her trembling body. Sally heard it-but only as it died out did she recognize it as her own cry, her own voice.
She tried to move, as she knew she must eventually. She would have to face this horror somehow, have to go into the house sometime. But how could she bear to? Oh, no! She buried her face in her hands and an intense shudder wracked her body. When it had passed, she felt an emptiness within her. It was like a limb which had been amputated-which wasn't there-yet which went on throbbing forever. It seemed strange that nothing could hurt so much more than something, but the aching void at the center of her had become unbearable.
She shook her head, which seemed to whirl about her shoulders, turning the darkened house before her into some weird spinning object, some giant's plaything, like an enormous turning yo-yo. And when darkness-an even greater darkness-folded her within it, Sally, almost as lifeless as she imagined Mike to be, let her head slip back against the seat, resting it there, motionless, for a long time.
Occasionally, a frightening image pierced the dark blank of her brain-that of Mike, again, dead in an easy chair, the victim of a heart attack; Mike, lying on the kitchen floor, a butcher knife stuck between his shoulders. Once she even thought of Kirst-wasn't she supposed to have come on Thursday? What had happened to her? Oh, dear God! She must be dead, too. Worst of all, though, was the haunting fear that the house was empty, both Kirst and Mike gone-God alone knew where.
She tried desperately to collect herself, to pull herself together, to make some decision, to do something. The idea came to her of going to a neighbor's to call for help. But she knew her shaking fingers could never perform even those inconsequential movements necessary to start the car again, and as for walking, her legs, weak now as cooked spaghetti, would barely carry her as far as the house, let alone to one nearby. No, there was nothing to do but gather what was left of her strength, and by a sheer effort of will to enter the bleak, deserted-seeming house.
She stretched out her hand to the door handle, and was amazed that she had the strength to turn it. That done, she realized she could propel herself from beneath the steering wheel, and step to the ground. There, though, she tottered again, leaning against the chassis of the car for support, propping herself against the hood for a while. Again her strength came back, again she resolved to find Mike, or at least to find out what had happened to him.
She breathed deeply in the cool night air, glanced up gratefully to see that the moon was still high, was still a ball of shining yellow. If the lights were out-and surely any would-be attacker, any murderer would have cut the wires at once-yes, and the telephone wires, too-she would at least have both the light and the comfort of the moon above. She shivered a little, wrapped her coat closer to her, then started up the narrow flag-stone path that led to the house. She stumbled along, blindly, and once she lost her balance, swayed, nearly fell and caught the branch of a rose-bush just in time to save herself, and the thorns pierced the palm of her hand and made her jerk back. A few steps farther on, she caught the heel of her alligator pump in a crack, twisting her ankle slightly. She righted herself, then stopped to wipe her forehead on the sleeve of her coat. And then Sally went on.
She reached the steps and climbed them, stood, frozen with fear, in the cold moonlight before she had the courage to insert the key in the lock, froze again before she could turn it. But at last the door swung open, and Sally stepped inside.
She leaned against the door jamb, weak with apprehension, listening for some telltale sound to confirm her fears. But there was nothing, and with a sigh of relief, so loud it startled her, she went inside and carefully, quietly, pulled the door closed behind her.
Sally fumbled for the light switch, but her nervous, twisting fingers merely passed across it, and then she remembered that if there had been intruders, the lights would surely have been cut, anyway, and so she moved away, groping towards the staircase. She found the first step, and feeling her way, moved cautiously up the flight. Half way to the top, she twisted her ankle again, and standing there, she dropped off first one highheeled shoe and then the other. And now, in her stocking feet, she padded to the upper landing.
Sally paused a minute there, peering into the darkness stretching up and down the hall. That way was the guest room, Jean's old room, as well as Vern's pad. Surely Mike wouldn't be there. Sally turned, and moved slowly, quietly down the hall in the other direction.
There was a dim light-from the moon, Sally was certain-creeping out from under the door to the bedroom she and Mike shared, and she was irresistibly drawn to it. At the door she paused, hand or the knob, then drew back, listening to her wildly pounding heart. Dared she enter? What would she find within?
She thought she heard a sound, listened, decided it was her heart again. But it came once more, a low moan at first, then louder, a groan, a quiet shriek. She heard the sound of bedclothes rustling, of bodies-could it be?-thrashing about. Oh, dear God! What was going on? Almost as soon as she asked herself the question, she knew the answer. Mike was in there, desperately ill. He'd been poisoned-that was it. Or else he'd been wounded. In any case, he was dying.
Sally herself felt slightly sick, and her head began to reel; nevertheless, she steeled herself for the horrible sight she knew would face her, steadied her shaking hand, turned the knob and pushed the door open a crack.
She peered into the room, trying to make out Mike's body by moonlight. When her eyes became accustomed to the semi-darkness, she gasped. Dear God! He was lying there on the bed, his naked body twisted in some grotesque position'. She clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, still staring in shocked horror at the bed. It seemed to her that Mike moved-then he wasn't dead, after all-and then the room brightened as the moon came from behind a cloud and its bright beams picked out the body of a young, voluptuous girl there on the bed with Mike, played like spilling fountains over her lewdly tilted breasts, lit the hard rosy little buttons of her nipples, splashed its pale white light over the sensuous curves of her firm white buttocks.
Oh, my God! What were they doing! Oh, I know, Sally thought. I know damned well. Little fingers of ice began to walk up her spine, sending freezing shudders through her. Yes, she knew what they were doing, too, that it would have been better if they'd been dead.
And who was the girl? In a flash, Sally knew that, too. It was Kirst! That's who it was! Oh, she hadn't had to meet the little bitch to figure that one out. No, indeed. It was as plain as the nose on her face that this wanton, lewd creature who mewled with pleasure as she lay beneath Mike was the little au pair they had brought all the way from Denmark. All the way from Denmark to walk into Sally's own home, brazen as anything, to climb, within hours, into her own husband's bed, and to ... to ... A sob rose in her throat at the very idea of what the two were doing. To fuck, she managed to tell herself at last, cringing at the word. That was what they were doing. They were fucking. And Sally stood frozen to the spot, watching, as Mike stroked the firmly swelling mounds of Kirst's naked breasts, running his fingers delicately over the snowy white skin, as he trailed his hand lightly over the swell of her moonlit belly to tangle it in the soft little patch of softly curling pubic hair at the base, as he lifted her satin-smooth buttocks,-the twin cheeks quivering, to cup them and crush them in his two huge hands. Oh, God! If only she could stop them, put an end to this horrible, adulterous scene unfolding before her very eyes! But how? HOW?
Kirst writhed and twisted on the bed, suddenly flinging her head back, whispering something-something obscene, Sally thought bitterly-into Mike's ear. He twisted, too, moving down until he was kneeling on all fours between her widespread young legs. Now what? Sally moaned. Oh God, now what? Warmly cascading tears flooded her eyes and coursed down her pale cheeks. Angrily she brushed them away. Now what! As if she had to ask! Oh, God, it was unbearable, watching Mike do this to a girl who was nothing more than a husband-stealing little whore. A whore! The idea filled the older woman with fury, and she longed to leap to the bed and scratch the little bitch's eyes out, to claw her to bits, to tear her limb from limb.
She turned away, glanced back to stare in amazement at her husband's swollen penis-it was so huge, she thought; she hadn't remembered it was so huge-jerking obscenely now as it jutted out from his loins like a spear at full tilt, to see the young naked girl in a convulsive movement suddenly spread her slim legs even wider to expose the warmly trembling lips of her open vagina and the little patch of sparse silky pubic hair nestled around it more lewdly to her eagerly peering husband's eyes. She covered her face with her hands, choking back the sobs, then peeped through her own spread fingers at Mike's lust-contorted face gazing spellbound at the narrow, hair-lined slit of the girl's pinkly inviting little pussy. She saw him reach forward and place his hands on the insides of her warm, milk-white thighs, spreading them even farther apart, saw his fingers, his thumbs move to the coral lips of her cunt-saw even that it was moist with passion-saw him draw the petal-like flesh wide apart and then, slowly, coolly, deliberately, tease the little bud within it, the small pearl of her rose-pink clitoris, tantalise it into a stiff pulsating little erection.
Sally turned away as Mike continued to stroke, to fondle the girl's miniature phallus. A wave of disgust swept through her, making her knees buckle, her heart pound relentlessly. She leaned against the door again, her head lolling to one side. She felt a moment of panic as the thought flashed through her tormented brain that Mike or the nakedly spread young girl might see her standing there watching this lewd, obscene spectacle. Feeling panic, she tried to close the door as if, somehow, by wiping the scene from her sight, she could put an end to the depraved act taking place within the room. But her hands hung limp at her side, refusing to do her bidding; her feet were rooted to the spot on which she stood, and she knew she could no longer move away.
She pushed the door open a crack further, and peered in again. Now Mike's fingers were teasing again into the curls of soft golden hair of the girl's openly spread pubic mound, now they moved once more to the warm, moist slit of her eagerly trembling little vagina. He probed it gently with the tip of one finger, then began to work it into the tightly clenching little orifice, twisting and turning it hotly within the narrow passage. Kirst first writhed and squirmed hesitantly under his working hand, and then, responded with moans of wild, abandoned passion to the moving finger now fucking deep into her tight little cuntal passage.
The moaning ceased as Mike withdrew his finger from her warmly clasping young pussy to search out and caress the tiny bud of her clitoris again, then burrowed once more, deep inside the young, erotically twisting girl's warm, pink pussy, beginning to move slowly, rhythmically, while she squirmed lewdly about in an insane contrapuntal rhythm of her own. A warm, excitedly rising fluid seeped wetly now from her pulsing depths under Mike's feverish finger fucking, drenching her throbbing little cuntal opening and flowing down her warm, sensuous thighs.
Then Mike's voice shattered the oppressive silence, ringing clear and cold as crystal. "I'm going to fuck you, kid," he said, and the words fell on his wife's ears like a cutting knife, slashing and wounding her to the center of her being. "I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before."
Kirst let out a little peal of malevolent laughter. "Not even like I was-how you say it?-fucked last night?"
"Not even like you were fucked last night," Mike said, his voice low and husky, and almost brutal. "Not even like that!"
He arched back, groaning, taking his blood-engorged penis in his hands, guiding it to the gaping opening of the young girl's hotly palpitating vagina, .maneuvering to ease it between her hungrily clasping cuntal lips.
With a sudden movement, Kirst pushed him downward, then quickly reached out to grasp his head between her two cool, slim hands. "Not like last night," she whispered, her voice sultry. "Not like that! Like this!"
Sally uttered a small, silent cry of shame and shock as the girl tangled her fingers in her husband's hair, slipping, swivelling beneath him, pulling his head down, down between her obscenely spread thighs, toward her passion-drenched young pussy lips that waited expectantly for him below. With an anguished cry, like that of an angry bull, Sally thought, her husband thrust his face forward, and his warm, moist tongue shot out like a striking serpent, making electrical contact with the stark, upright bud of the girl's clitoris.
She thrashed and bucked under the delightful torment of his hotly flicking tongue, thrusting the full flat plane of her widespread loins up to meet his wetly licking assault upon her tender flesh. The sight seemed to send a blast of Arctic wind rippling up the spine of the watching Sally, raising goose-flesh on her neck and arms. Oh, God! Had Mike no decency-no decency whatsoever?
Other men, she knew, indulged in such forbidden, perverted pleasures. But Mike! Her own husband, Mike! She remembered her own thoughts of what now seemed centuries before and yet of what she knew had been only a few days. "Mike was the most considerate of men." And now he was doing-this-to the little slut, the little whore, the little bitch-who had appeared on their doorstep. With soul-searing anguish, Sally watched the man she loved as he plundered the newly-ripened body of this young, shameless intruder into their home.
The pink, glistening little hole of the blonde's soft, curl-fringed pussy was now completely exposed to Sally's gaze, and she heard, in spite of all her efforts not to, Mike's low, appreciative grunt as his tongue darted forth, lizard-like, to slip deep up inside the wetly throbbing little mouth. Another shock went through her wildly trembling body as the little au pair responded with a lewd, delicious pleasure to the maddening sensation imparted by the older man's licking, spiraling tongue. With a compulsive jerk, her legs splayed out obscenely, to hang out over the edges of the bed in limp, abject surrender to the ravishment of her loins.
Now Mike ran his tongue up and down the moist, narrow furrow, probed, explored, entered, withdrew, while the girl quivered sensuously beneath him, grinding her buttocks deep down into the mattress on which she lay. Once again, he began the maddening licking of her cuntal lips, slithering his tongue lizard-like in and out of her passion-drenched fifteen year old pussy.
My God! Sally thought. The girl-the girl isshe's insatiable! She's letting him do everything-everything-to her. And she's asking for more, too, she thought, choking back still another sob as Mike licked at the soft folds of throbbing flesh between Kirst's outspread legs, withdrew to push her knees up against her heaving breasts, so that he could lick at the narrow crevice between the firm white mounds of her nakedly upturned little buttocks.
"What next?" Sally moaned in despair, certain that no man-and certainly not Mike-could ever be capable of committing further indecencies. And yet she knew the worst was yet to come, and she gritted her teeth, bracing against it-whatever it was.
"There was a low groan of passion from her heavily breathing husband, and an answering one, long drawn out, ear-splitting, from Kirst, and then her voice, panting breathlessly, "I want to do it to you too, Mike. Please! I want to lick you too!"
He reared back again, and Sally saw his lust-distorted face full in the light of the yellow moon. "What is it, Kirst?" he asked. "What is it you want?" and Sally thought, Dear God! That's the way he talked to Jean-to baby Jean! He listened attentively, as if her voice would come from some immeasurable distance, for her answer.
It was a little whimper of sheer sensuality, though, when it came at last, and Sally struggled to take in the full enormity of the girl's wickedness as she made out the whispered words. "I want to suck you, Mike. I want to take your big lovely cock in my mouth, and I want to nibble it and eat it and suck it." She drew in her breath, then let it out, long and audibly. "Would you like that, Mike?" she asked him in a low, seductive voice. "Would you?"
Sally herself held her breath, waiting for Mike's reply. He couldn't-he wouldn't-let her do such an outrageous thing. And then his words came to her, stinging like a slap across the face. "Oh, God!" he groaned as he rolled over on his back. "You think I wouldn't! Come on, baby. Come on! I want to slip it in to you, to ram it against the back of your throat, to tickle your tonsils. Oh, my God! Would I do it, Kirst! WOULD I!"
Sally was dimly aware then that Kirst was turning on the bed, rolling over, twisting, sliding down somehow to straddle Mike's naked body, to poise herself upside down above him, head flung back, ash-blond hair streaming like that of some wild, wood-bred creature, the heavily swollen mounds of her breasts bobbing above the head of his hugely throbbing penis. She was aware, too, that Kirst took the desire-hardened length between her hands, ran them slowly, seductively along the length of it while Mike moaned again, that she crooned out words Sally couldn't understand. Then she saw the elfin face drop forward, the little pink tongue slip between the white even teeth, lick the hungrily ovaled lips lasciviously, then quickly circle the flushed tip of the excitedly waiting cock. Her head bobbed downward now as she fully enclosed the granite-hard member in the warm, wet confines of her mouth, licking up the tiny pearling drops of fluid that hotly oozed from it. Then again, her moist little tongue shot out, tantalizing and teasing warmly at the blood-engorged head; and when the older man moaned beneath the tormenting sensations, she once more parted her warm, moist lips, to suck his turgid, seething cock back deep up inside.
Mike began to fuck in and out between her widely ovaled lips, thrusting up deep, withdrawing, thrusting in again, while the young girl continued to croon out in a muffled sing-song voice that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. He stiffened perceptibly as he looked down between them and caught sight of her sweet, innocent child's face, contorted wildly now with the lust of a wanton, lascivious creature. She moved her tightly locked lips up and down along the wet shaft of his heavily hardened cock, and then her hands slid beneath him, to gently cup his churning, sperm-filled balls to massage them tenderly, sending little feather-like spasms of ecstasy through him that excited him even further.
Sally, watching at the door, was afraid she might faint. She wondered, vaguely, if this was the man she had known for so many years, the man whose life she had shared. There seemed to be an unbridgeable gulf between the two of them now, a gulf growing ever wider. And as Kirst began to suck harder on his huge burgeoning cock, as little grunts of delight escaped his trembling lips, she saw him flex his body, raise his loins tighter to her face, then sink back against the small hands she slipped beneath him while she cupped his ass cheeks in her tightly clutching little palms She had a moment of consternation as her husband's enormously erect prick almost disappeared all the way up into the small widely ovaled mouth-my God! the child would choke! Sally thought, and then, maliciously, hoped she would-but at once dismissed the idea, knowing full well that Kirst had obviously long been accustomed to such depraved acts. And now, as the girl continued to suck frantically and Mike wound his hands in her hair, she knew that his balls probably ached now beyond endurance, that the pressure that had built up in the sperm-filled sacs could no longer be contained, and that he was going to cum-to shoot his hot, heavily churning semen into the girl's desperately working throat.
Sally rocked back on her heels, timing herself to the lewd rhythm of Kirst's obscene sucking, Mike's equally obscene thrusting, and then, with an anguish that struck her soul numb, she heard his wild cry: "Aaaaagh! I'm cumming ... Oh, my God! I'm cumming ... " saw his inflated balls smack hard up against the girl's tiny, pointed chin, saw him heave and buck in his final climax as the hot white sperm shot through his shaft to spew forth in long, hotly jetting streams between the girl's widely ovaled lips.
Kirst swirled the white hot liquid in her mouth, then swallowed rapidly, still sucking, as if she must extract each final drop from his rapidly deflating penis.
It was only then that Sally let out the scream of a wounded animal and then, as if to lick her wounds, turned and fled.