Chapter 2
In the room with the soft lights, the old man was arguing.
"I assure you Jack, I've studied this man's methods. I know what he is doing. I know how he works. It's him."
"But we don't know that! Christ, if you go and start showing all our agents around here, that'll be as much of a give away as anything else. I say we wait. Wait until we have more proof. There's no reason to suspect that "The Wolf, if that's even who it is, will come here. No reason to suspect that at all. For all we know, this is just a mad killer."
"Precisely. "The Wolf is a sick, deranged, mad killer. I assure you, he killed those two men, and he'll kill again. Although he usually reserves such brutal treatment for his female victims."
"Exactly! This is a deviation from his standard procedure!"
"Not really ... it had all the indications of an standard killing of his."
"But it makes no sense! Why would he endanger himself by senseless murders that will only bring attention to himself."
"Perhaps that the point. Or maybe it's the thrill. Remember, he's been at this for over a decade now. And the pattern has always been the same. Psychopathic homicides that baffle the local police, accompanied by an act of unexpected political significance."
"It's a computer projection! We don't know for sure that there even is a Wolf."
"I know. And so do you," said the old man softly. He turned to the window. "Oh, look, Jack, it's snowing again. I've a feeling that we should alert the local authorities to expect some kind of trouble tonight."
The man he called Jack walked over to the window and stared outside for a long time.
Rixie Morgan opened the door to her house and then stood aside while Dennis walked in with his enormous backpack.
"Hey, nice place you have here. Real nice. You say five of you live here?"
"Um-hmmmm. It makes the rent a lot easier."
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"Here, can I put that some place for you," said Rixie, indicating his back pack.
"Oh ... no," he said, looking just a little uncomfortable, "I'll just keep it with me. Unless ... unless it'll be in the way, or something."
"No, I don't suppose it will...."
He seemed very nervous about the idea of her even touching his bag. She frowned a little, but let it pass. She wondered once more, what was it about this man that had produced such a feeling of trust. She didn't even feel alarmed by the fact that he'd sent up no warning signals inside her at all. That was strange.
Once again, she thought about the way she'd evolved her life, her growing acceptance, and then reliance on a kind of intuitive assessment of people, that really, when you got right down to it, made no sense at all.
She looked back at Dennis.
Kind eyes, she thought. Kindest eyes she'd ever seen in her life.
"Would you like some breakfast?" she asked.
"Sure. Um ... like I said, I don't want to mooch or anything. I mean, I've got money."
"Okay. Maybe you can take me out to dinner tonight. How's that sound?"
He gave her a long, appraising look.
"If I can be perfectly candid, I think it sounds absolutely splendid."
Splendid.
She hardly ever heard guys use that word. It was like the word 'marvelous', or 'divine'.
But when he said splendid, she had a feeling that he used the word with full appreciation of all the linguistic echoes that it called up. Grand, gorgeous, sumptuous ... he had said it without any emphasis, letting the word fall easily from his lips, as though he was quite used to using exactly the word that was called for, and no other.
He was looking at her again.
"Tell me. Why did you really let me come over here?"
She felt just a little annoyed.
"I'll tell you why," she said, giving him an even glance. "I'm a low slut and a slimy whore and I'll fuck anything that moves, so long as it's male. You were available. All that shit about the eyes and stuff. Forget it. I figured I'd get you to fuck me, and in exchange, I'd give you breakfast. Seemed like a good trade off to me. You looked easy."
She was walking over to him as she spoke, surprising herself by her words. Even though she was saying them with a broad, exaggerated tone, she hadn't exactly planned to get quite so blunt with him, He grinned.
"Well, it sounds all right ... but if you just wanted to take things a step at a time, I'm thinking more and more about that breakfast you talked about."
She relaxed, they stood there a moment longer, and then she said, "If you want to know the real truth ... I just liked you the moment I saw you. Don't ask me why ... why does anybody feel the way they do? I just felt like you were an okay dude."
"Well, Rixie, I certainly hope your experience bears out your expectations."
And then, he leaned over to her and kissed her on her cheek. It was a polite, fraternal kiss, but held forth no indication that things would necessarily remain platonic.
For the first time that morning Rixie openly confronted the fact that she was very physically attracted to the man.
"Come on," she said after another moment, taking him by the hand, I'll show you where the bathroom is, and you can take a shower."
"Now that would be fine. Truly fine," said Dennis, scratching the stubble on his chin.
He went back to his pack and rummaged through it, producing a towel, soap cup and a razor.
"Silly," said Rixie, "I'd have been glad to give you a towel."
"I told you, I'm no mooch," said Dennis. "I travel with everything that I'll need to stay civilized."
"I can see that. That's one hell of a big pack," she said, examining the aluminum frame that was supported by straps to his back.
"Yep. like I said, everything I need to remain civilized."
"Bathroom's this way," said Rixie.
Suddenly, she saw him holding back, if only for a second.
"What's the problem ... oh, I see. Look, I'm afraid you're just going to have to trust me the way I'm trusting you. I promise you, I don't want to get at your pack."
He frowned a little bit, and then seemed to relent finally.
"Sorry. I don't mean to be a shit about it, but...."
"Hey, it's all right," she assured him.
She led him upstairs and showed him the bathroom.
"There's good pressure too, and plenty of hot water."
"Hot water," he said, reverently.
"Has it been awhile?" asked Rixie.
He smelled under his arms. "You couldn't tell?"
She smiled.
But as she walked downstairs, the more she thought about it, the more she wondered. The truth was, he didn't look like someone who'd been on thy road for a while. His shoes weren't caked in mud the way you'd expect ... wasn't that reason for warning bells to be going off? No, she told herself firmly. She wasn't sure what his story was, and she didn't know for sure if he was telling the truth, but he was a good person. She knew it! She was certain of it! God help her, she suddenly wanted so much for it to be true.
"Rixie, who the fuck is that dude in the bathroom?"
Trixie had burst in on her sister as the bacon was just beginning to turn crisp and the coffee was percolating nicely. She turned to Trixie and asked, "What's wrong, you look like you've seen a ghost."
"Not quite. But he was certainly fresh. Didn't you tell him about us?"
"Not yet. But I'm sure that by now he's probably figured it out."
"I don't know. He looked a little hurt."
"What did you say?"
"Well, I didn't hear anyone in there, and I didn't think you were coming back, and Kurt and Valerie always use the one downstairs ... so how was I to know anyone was in there?"
"I agree. It's all right. He's an okay dude. What did he say?"
I walked in, and there he was naked as a jaybird, just getting out of the shower, and he just smiled and said, 'Couldn't wait, huh?' So, I just stared at him, and then I said, 'Sorry, you've got a wrong number.' Boy, you should have seen his face fall. It was like the Stock Market in '29."
"Oh . ... " said Rixie, a little angry, and a little concerned, and more than a little amused.
At that moment, Dennis walked into the kitchen, looking far more concerned and quite apologetic.
He stared at Trixie, and then at Rixie, and then back at Trixie again.
"I get it," he said.
"You catch on quick," said Trixie.
"I was just a little confused, I must admit."
Trixie was eyeing him up and down, hard. Then she turned to Rixie. "So sister, who's the stud?"
Dennis laughed and held out his hand.
"Dennis Slade."
"Trixie."
He nodded, still looking from one to the other.
"Well," he said, "this seems to have been an eventful introduction. Maybe a little of a letdown too, to be honest."
"Don't worry about it," said Trixie, "she's still hot for you. I was the wrong number, remember."
Rixie felt a little uncomfortable at the way her sister and Dennis were talking so freely with each other, and the fact that they were talking about her didn't help one bit.
"Trixie," she interrupted, "would you like some breakfast? I only made enough for two, but I can put on some more bacon if you'd like."
The sisters looked each other over. "No thanks, sis," said Trixie. "I think Steve and I are going to go get something down at Nat's Cafe."
"Oh. Well, it's no problem if you want something."
"Don't lose any sleep over it, sister." said Trixie.
Then she turned back to Steve. "So, were you here all night, or what?"
"Trixie, why don't you and Steve go on down to Nat's Cafe!"
Trixie arched her eyebrows, saying "Okay, okay, take it easy honey. Don't get yourself upset. I was just wondering, that's all."
Dennis wisely decided to keep quiet during this example of sibling rivalry. He figured that this was fairly common.
Trixie got up, looked from Dennis to Rixie, seemed like she was about to say something, but then thought better of it."
She walked out.
"Wow," said Dennis after a moment, "was it my imagination, or does she really dislike me?"
"She's overly protective, that's all. She's just ... I don't know. Don't worry bout it."
Rixie continued to prepare breakfast, not looking at Dennis or saying anything. Finally he spoke.
"Rixie, is there something the matter."
"No."
"It seems like something's the matter."
"That's ridiculous. What could be the matter?"
"Well, it doesn't seem like anything should. That's why I asked."
"I'm sorry, Dennis. I just get upset at her sometimes...."
"I can see that."
She nodded, placed a plate of fried potatoes, eggs sunny-side up and five slices of crisp bacon in front of him.
Then, she poured him a cup of coffee.
"Do you have any idea how good this looks?"
She smiled. I hope it looks real good. And I hope it tastes as good as it looks."
He piled into the plate and said nothing for a few minutes. During that time, the five slices was reduced to a half slice and some crumbs, the three eggs to a few pieces of white coated with yolk, and the potatoes vanished altogether. He also drained his coffee in a single gulp.
"I don't believe it," she said to him. "I've never seen anyone eat that fast. You must have been starving."
"Um hmmm," he said.
"When's the last time you ate?"
"Huh? Oh ... uh, in, uh Maine. When I was up in Maine. My friends up there gave me a hell of a send off, and I never took the time to eat anything but a donut and coffee on the way."
"When was that?"
She realized that she was trying to catch him in a discrepancy, and was praying that he wouldn't be caught. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was inventing his answers for her on the spot, however.
"I left Maine the ... God, what is today? Wednesday? I left Maine on Monday night."
"Why'd you leave at night?"
"Because they were splitting for Canada," he said, off-handedly, as if he no longer considered the subject worth discussing.
She wasn't sure how that hit her. Was he lying to her? Or was she just prying into an area that was none of her business.
She watched him as he finished the last of his breakfast. Well, she thought, one thing was true. He certainly ate like a man who hadn't had a good meal in a couple of days.
"You must be tired," she said.
"Sure am. You said something about a couch?"
"Sure, but there'll be people in and out all day long, and things can get a little rowdy down here."
She paused, feeling a little self-conscious. "You can sleep in my bed, if you'd like."
He smiled.
"Are you going to share it with me?" She blushed.
"If you like," she said, at last, openly acknowledging to herself, what he must have suspected long ago.
He looked at her for a long time. "You're a fascinating lady, you know that?"
"Why do you say that?"
"I don't know ... I guess for the same reason you trust me. I like your eyes."
He stood up and took her hand. "I'd lead the way, but I don't know it." She looked back at him. "Follow me," she said, shyly.
Trixie left the house with a strange feeling of uncertainty. She wondered what it was. Surely, she wasn't that upset about her sister picking up a stranger and bringing him home, was she? After all, she herself did it all the time, and so did Marjorie the other girl who lived there. And as for Jack and Chet, you never had any idea what they'd drag home. That was the nice thing about that kind of life style. You could be loose and not worry about anything. She wondered if it was possible anywhere but a college campus. Probably not. Things, somehow, were different on a college campus. It was a plot of land that seemed to have been insulated from the perils and pain of the real world that was constantly trying to close in around it. In the same way that the four or five or six or however many years that were spent there were a kind of free zone in your life ... a reward for making it through high school, a respite, when all you had to do was work your mind before the real world set in and you had to work your body as well.
She trudged through the thick blanket of snow, feeling once again the thrill that the first snowfall always produced, even in seasoned New Englanders. There was something so pure, so cleansing ... so virginal.
Nothing was evil with such a purifying coat draped over the world. Nothing could produce pain. Even the wicked memories seemed somehow less severe on a crisp morning such as this.
She thought of Florida, of her childhood....
As she often did, she wondered where their father had gone. Mother had said nothing about him, although he'd left them financially secure.
"Don't ask," she'd told them, when word came that the police investigation had been halted. "It's better this way. Safer. Your father has gone, and he won't be back. Just accept that."
Accept it they had, both she and her sister.
But forgetting was another matter. They'd never forgotten, although each of them managed to purge their private demons in their own special way. She had become the aggressor. She had been the one to seize control of a relationship before it had the chance to seize her. She had been the one to embrace the past, to somehow try and force it to make sense in terms of her present. There were times, in fact, that she was grateful for her past, for the abuses their father had perpetrated on them. In a way, it had prepared her. It was doubtful that she'd ever be overwhelmed by anything again.
Of Rixie, however, she was not so certain. Rixie had remained a fragile, frail creature, never really seeming to be able to manage her relationships. Several particularly bad affairs had caused her to become even more withdrawn, retreating to the safety of her books and her grades, which were quite high. But she had become skittish, like a dog that's been kicked by too many strangers. She had a flinch reflex that made this liaison with this Dennis character all the more strange. It just wasn't like Rixie..
She watched as her breath formed a heavy cloud, watched the vapors dissipate into the cold clear morning, and turned towards the student union complex on the Fenwood Campus. Most of her friends would be there.
Rixie shivered a moment in her bedroom as she let her shirt slide down her arms and fall to the floor.
Dennis was lying back on the bed, observing her with a quizzical look.
Rixie felt a little self-conscious about turning towards him as she disrobed and so she had her back to him. It was silly, she knew, but she couldn't help it, and she was grateful that he didn't make a big point of it.
The heat was on; she knew because she'd checked the thermostat on their way upstairs. Nonetheless, she was cold, and as she pulled her pants down her legs, she grew even colder.
Clad now only in her skimpy panties and her knee-socks, she turned back towards Dennis, blushing all the while, and piled into bed and under the covers in a single leap.
"What's the matter," Dennis laughed easily, "are you afraid I might see something that I've never seen before?"
She felt her blush deepen in her cheeks, but at the same time, his easy approach to her self-consciousness made her feel a corresponding warmth start to build between her legs.
"Hmmmm ... " Dennis persisted. "Tell me, is that it? Are you trying to protect my moral standing?"
"No ... " she said, shivering almost uncontrollably now, even though she was underneath the covers.
"You're cold," Dennis observed. "Come here and snuggle up to me. That's what body heat is all about."
She felt him pressing his stomach and crotch against her back and her buttocks, and even though the warmth was comforting, her shivers continued, even increased.
He slipped his hands around her breasts, cupping them tightly in his palms.
She felt her nipples stiffen. He began to rub her breasts with his hands, letting them slide lightly over her flesh, and she felt it respond even more.
"Oh, that feels nice," she said to him, her voice scarcely a whisper.
"Are you warming up some?" he asked.
"A little," she replied, although her teeth were still chattering.
"Come on, relax," coaxed Dennis. "I don't think you're cold so much as you're nervous."
"I am," she admitted.
"What's the problem? You don't have to do this you know. We can just lay here and get comfortable."
"No ... I want to. I really do."
She pressed further back against his body, and through the material of her panties and his jockey shorts, she could feel the bulge between his legs, pressing now against her body, against her buttocks, against the crack in her ass.
She beat down her instant reflex to bolt, to jump out of bed.
This was something that she was not going to let get the better of her.
She had developed a seemingly hopeless case of jitters over sex, and she wasn't interested so much in its causes as in its cure, which she was convinced could only come through a decided head-on approach. Trouble was, she kept getting frightened at the moment of truth.
Dennis had produced such a good reaction in her, that she'd managed to get much further with him, much faster, than was usually the case. But now, here she was in bed with him, and the very fact that she seldom got this far with any boy left her with a big blank. What should she do next?
She felt his arms, wrapping around her body and her breasts ... strong arms, enclosing her, protecting her, holding her.
That's what she wanted to feel. Strength. Control. She was frightened. She didn't know what to do. Help me, she thought to herself, wishing she could simply say the words to Dennis. Help me, because I'm frightened.
He pinched her nipples gently, and she felt a sudden rise in the temperature at her crotch.
It was starting to feel moist and mushy down there, and as she pressed her thighs together, she could feel them slipping and sliding over each other like well oiled parts to a precision instrument.
His cock was hard and stiff by now, and it seemed to have grown an inch or two from the time that she'd jumped into bed, but he refrained from forcing it on her. Instead, he simply began to press it against her ass, not hard, just enough to let her know that it was there.
She felt the pressure of his cock at first with a mixture of uncertainty and outright fear, but as he pressed it against her more and more, she felt her hips begin to push backwards, almost against her control, as if she had nothing to do with it and was instead being guided by some external force.
In a sense, that's sort of the way she'd been the entire morning with Dennis. She'd been reacting to stimuli that she couldn't quite recognize, or was even completely aware of, without thinking about it. She was simply doing. For the first time in her life, it felt like that was the correct way to deal with her situation.
"Oh, Dennis ... " she finally allowed herself to moan.
"You don't feel like you're quite as cold," he said to her, softly whispering the words in her ear as he began to nibble around the edge of her ear lobe.
"Oh ... " she moaned, and then suddenly, as he hit a particularly sensitive nerve, she gasped deeply, taking a large quantity of air into her lungs, and then holding it. The touch of his tongue was exquisite torture. He let the tip glide easily around the perimeter of her lobe, never pressing in hard on her, never forcing himself, always, if anything, holding back to the point where she would shift positions to increase the pressure.
He brought his tongue down to the inner part of her ear now, still licking lightly and gently. He blew a soft stream of air over the opening of her ear, and she felt the hairs all along the back of her neck stand up, and felt waves of tingling sensations float all up and down her spinal column, like echos reverberating in a canyon.
Suddenly, she lurched her hips backwards, seized by an overpowering desire to feel him violating her body. She wanted him to ram that cock of his right up her hole, hard, swift, and painfully, if need be. She felt the heat in her clit, and felt the glow in her pussy, deep in the inner chambers, wanting only for them to be filled. Filled with his cock. His stiff, swollen cock.
"Dennis, stick it in me, please," she said, and to hear the words being articulated and actually coming out of her mouth was supremely strange to her.
But once said, they couldn't be taken back. And to say them again was infinitely easier.
"Please ... " she said again when he did not respond. "Please fuck me...."
She hardly ever used the word fuck, unlike her sister who would spit it out at the slightest provocation. To use it in its proper place was even more alien. She felt like she was having to learn to speak a foreign tongue, which was almost true.
Dennis did not immediately respond to her pleas, but then she felt him sliding back to put a little space between them on the bed.
He moved around, shifting position a little, and then she felt him drawing first one leg and then the other leg up to his body.
When he pressed his body against her once more, she felt only the material of her panties between her flesh and his naked cock. It was like a rock, like a railroad spike, like a Saturn rocket aiming for the moon of her ass-hole.
But no, she had no desire to be poked in her ass. She needed it in her pussy more. But she felt certain that Dennis would know that. She just wished he'd get to it.
He took his time though. He had no desire to rush things and then come on strong when she wasn't ready for it. With someone like Rixie, uncertain, inexperienced, the best course was to be deliberate, even to the extent that they feel you're going to slow. That way, when you finally have them reduced to aquivering mass of sexually heated flesh, and tears are streaming down their eyes as they spread their legs wide and beg you for it, beg you to "stick it in, please, stick it in my cunt,' you know they mean it. That they're genuinely ready.
He let his fingers begin to toy with the elastic band of her panties, pulling it back and then snapping it against her skin.
"Ouch! That hurt," she said, not really meaning it.
"I just wanted to make sure you could feel."
"Oh, believe me, I can feel. I can truly feel."
"Yeah? Then, can you feel this?"
He slipped his fingers down the back of her panties, and began to press them between her legs.
She let out a deep moan and opened her thighs to allow him more room ... all the room he needed ... all the room he wanted.
Anything, in fact to insure that those delicious sensations that were boiling out of her pussy now would continue. Indeed, increase, grow more intense. Drive her mad.
She wanted that, to be driven mad. To be pushed out of her mind, past all limits. She'd never had the faintest idea of how to ask anyone for it ... the last person who had done it to her had not needed an invitation ... he'd simply taken her and used her body for what it was worth. And then, when he'd been spent, he vanished....
She shook her head. She didn't want to think about it, but the rising lust in her pussy could only remind her of it. For hadn't she enjoyed it? Hadn't she felt this same moistening of her thighs, this same tingling in her clit, this same gathering passion all through her body when her father had taken her, opened her, tied her, whipped her ... hadn't she?
"Oh DENNIS!! " she screamed without warning, "fuck me. Fuck me! Please, fuck me.
She jammed her hips down onto his probing fingers, trying to force them up into her pussy, but he was not to be rushed.
She heard him chuckle lightly in her ear, and at the same time, he zeroed in on her aching clitoris, pressing it hard, like a button.
The President's button to launch Armageddon could have been no more effective.
Her brain went totally boobs, like a pin-ball machine that goes TILT in every circuit at the same time.
He arms shot outward, seeking something to grasp on to, and finding nothing, setting for her nipples, which needed further stimulation anyway.
She cried, she moaned, she groaned, and she shook her hips to scrap her clit back and forth over his fingers, which he simply kept in a near stationary position.
As her orgasm built momentum, she pinched her nipples harder and harder, pulled on them and otherwise abused her beautiful globes of quivering flesh in a most delicious fashion.
She made noises, none of them recognizable as coherent speech in any language, but still, the message seemed to get through to Dennis without any difficulty, because he managed to keep the pressure of his finger, and its position, perfectly suited to her body's response.
She continued to come, felt her muscles go into spasm after spasm, one wave subsiding as the next was already gathering steam.
She was shuddering now, much more so than when she'd first taken her clothes off, but there was no question now about whether or not she was cold. She was hotter than she'd ever been, and felt her body temperature shooting higher and higher.
And he was only using his finger!
"Dennis, I want your cock," she said, gasping for breath.
She reached down between her legs to try to remove his hand, and at the same time she reached for his cock to try and guide it between her legs instead, but he would not move.
Instead, she felt his fingers starting to creep up her cunt canal, two ... three ... four....
She couldn't tell. She only knew that her body continued to feel more and more full, and she felt the membranes of her cunt starting to stretch, a lot more than they were used to under ordinary conditions.
She began to babble as her body hit a second wave or orgasms.
This time, every muscle went rigid, and she literally blanked out a moment, her brain overwhelmed by the sheer force of the blizzard of signals flooding her nerves and bubbling up out of her pussy.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," she finally managed to moan, repeating the word again and again as if to stop would cause the sensations to stop.
He was sitting up now.
She remained on her stomach, legs spread wide, and he had his hand inserted up inside her pussy, entering her from behind.
She felt him sliding his other hand beneath her stomach now.
He pressed upwards gently, then harder.
"I ... I don't understand ... " she said, not wanting it to end.
"Up ... " prodded. "Up on your knees."
"Huh ... ? " she said, not knowing what he had in mind. But she followed his instructions, and raised her ass up into the air as she supported her body on her knees and elbows.
"Higher," he said, "stick it up in the air higher. I want to look straight down and be able to see your entire cunt."
She tried to obey him and stuck her ass up high. It felt awkward, and she still wasn't sure what he had in mind, but she wasn't about to resist.
"Ummmmm ... beautiful," he commented. Then, she felt it. The moment she'd been waiting for.
He started to run the head of his cock up and down through her wet slit, working it particularly over her clitoris.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," she moaned, feeling the same sensations start up all over again.
Then, he gradually increased the pressure, until she could feel each time he passed the head over the hole to her inner cunt chamber. The mushroom-shaped glans would 'fall in' every time it passed, stretching the rim of her hole just a little, but more importantly, sending a wave of tense ecstasy shooting down her legs and up her back.
Finally, he pressed hard enough that when his cock slipped into her hole, it went in far enough that it didn't come back out.
She cried out.
And then, he began to get serious. It was buried only about two inches in her to begin with, but Dennis placed his fingers on either side of the fleshy spear, grasping her buttocks, and began to spread them wide.
As he did so, she felt her cunt lips opening more, and felt a little more room for his cock to enter her.
He pushed with his hips.
She moaned.
The glans of his cock probed deeper into her pussy. She felt the membranes of her cunt spreading open more and more.
He pushed with his hips again, and then pulled out. Immediately, he shoved forward with his hips again, this time burying his cock at least four or maybe five inches.
Again he pulled out, coating more of that portion that was already buried with her thick oily juice, so that when he plunged back into her a third time, she felt his initial entry a lot more smoothly, and the head of his glans plunging almost to the bottom of her cunt well. Instead of pulling out again, he let his cock rest there a moment and then he jammed forward with his hips once more.
She felt him touch bottom, and gave a loud, awesomely passionate moan.
She squeezed the muscles of her cunt around his cock and felt his body respond.
He moaned. He actually moaned! The sound excited her, because up to this point, it had seemed like she was doing all the yelling and noise making and he was doing all the work. It made her feel good to know that she could produce pleasure in his body too.
He pulled back out, plunged back in, this time not pausing a second before the next stroke. He moved with confidence and precision, pulling his cock out of her body and sending it crashing back into her, again and again and again.
In and out!
Out and in!
He slammed the flesh of his abdomen against the small of her back and the top of her buttocks, harder and harder, the sweat that both of them produced making sharper and sharper cracks as the two of them thundered against each other again and again.
She felt the sensation rising higher and higher, filling her cunt, her breasts, her thighs, all over her body.
She felt herself drifting, felt herself growing both large and small, and felt herself flowing rapidly through an uncharted black void, a object charged beyond comprehension, blasting through a force field beyond measure.
She felt his jism pour out of his balls at the same time her whole body went rigid. She screamed, loudly, and then, she was silent. No more sounds could slip past her lips.
She was aware of nothing, except for the relentless pounding of his cock, again and again, filling her with its sticky white discharge, filling her to overflowing....
Gradually, he slowed, his cock lost some of its stiffness, but at the same time, she was sinking into a kind of peaceful, oblivion, her brain finally pushed beyond its limits and giving up, recharging its cells.
He continued to move his cock in her, and as she finally drifted off, not to sleep but to an unconscious state of peace much more relaxed and deeper, that was the last thing she felt, the glans of his cock slurping in and out, in and out ... in and out....