Chapter 7
James awoke from his beautiful dream to discover that it was true. He looked at the tan body lying in his arms and he knew that Judy Locke wasn't a dream. He remembered what they had done together and he couldn't control the smile that broke out on his face. "She was such a joy to be with." he thought as he thought about their afternoon.
She had fucked him senseless and yet, when he thought of what they had done, he only remembered the warmth and tenderness in her that reminded him so much of his mother.
He looked down at her sleeping figure and realized how beautiful she was. They had showered together to wash the oil and sweat from their bodies and the full, dark cover that the sun had produced, radiated from her flesh.
Henry studied her hair as the rays of light that leaked from the window shades picked up the glimmering shine of her hair. He pulled in his breath and took in the full, fragrance of her. The strawberry shampoo that he laughingly coated her body in, was filling his pores and pleasing his senses.
She was a truly remarkable vision. With her sleeping, relaxed form resting on his chest, Henry played their actions again and again in his mind. It was great and again he ran the afternoon over again in his mind. He saw her oily body glisten in the sun, as his hands played on her flesh. He studied every dark curve of her waist as he thought about the smooth, slick entrance of her lubricated pussy.
The wetness was magnificent.
He compared the visions of his dreams to the body that rested upon him now, in reality. She was every bit as desirable, every bit as enticing and she was real. He thought of the difficulty that he had always had with women. He recalled the problems that he had in even uttering the slightest, barest remark to a blonde or redhead.
"Mary Speller." he thought. "She was something else." he reflected.
His brain roamed to a different time and different place. He was back in the city. He was shy. He had trouble relating. He wanted, needed friends. He tried Mary.
Mary Speller was an older girl who worked with his sister, Ellen in the ice cream parlor. The way that her pink and white uniform formed over her figure, Henry thought, she must have the most incredible body ever known. He use to think about her all the time and how she must look nude.
The way that her tight little rear moved as she waited on the tables. The way that always took care of him when he came into the store.
"It couldn't have been because Ellen was his sister and Mary was her friend," he still imagined. "That she always bent over and showed him her cleavage."
"Besides," he thought. "Didn't she always give him an extra scoop of ice cream?"
"That was always great," he remembered, "So why not, give it a shot."
Henry thought himself silly to be thinking of thoughts and events that occurred so far in the past, but perhaps it was natural to think of past defeats when you had just experienced your ultimate victory.
He returned to thoughts of his blonde Deliah. She always suggested to him that they should go out after she was finished working. One night, after a long and busy evening of work, Mary suggested that they take in a local party that a friend of hers was giving.
"Oh come on," he remembered her saying, "your sister will be there too."
After some gentle persuasion, Henry agreed to go.
"But only for a little while." he remembered saying to her.
They went to the party at her friend's house. Henry looked around the room and he remembered how silly he thought the people at the party were. Smoking pot, drinking, every guy trying to cop a feel, or grab some girl in the corner. Waiting for one to lean over, to look down the dress of every girl that entered the room.
Henry recalled that the person that he both hated and feared the most, Mitchell Alvo was seated on the couch when they entered. As his luck would have it, Mitchell had wanted Mary for as long as anyone could remember. He had made a practice of beating up anyone who dared to try to date her.
Mitchell Alvo was a large mass of a boy. He was far more taller and muscular then any of the other boys his age. He was practiced at the art of weight lighting and so his threats to stay away from Mary, even though she had only gone out with him once, were generally regarded as fact of death. He was insanely jealous and Henry, especially at that time, would be no match for him.
Mitchell approached the pair and jabbed his finger into Henry's ribs.
"Hey buddy!" he warned. "I'm not sure that you got my warning, but be sure that you understand it now, no one," he pointed his finger for emphasis, "no one, goes out with Mary be me!"
"Listen Mitchell," Mary remarked. "I'll go out with anyone that I choose. And I don't choose you."
Henry felt the tight fist of his massive competitor grip his shirt.
"Look buddy, you got my message." he said.
Mitchell released Henry and walked away from them.
Judy Locke turned over on her side, temporarily breaking Henry's thoughts. He smiled at her as she opened her eyes. She smiled back at him and then returned to her sleep. Henry proudly noticed a smile forming on her face.
"I wonder if she's thinking of me?" he asked himself.
Henry was not thinking of Judy as he remembered Mary taking him out onto the porch of her friend's house.
"Don't let that Mitchell bother you." Mary advised. "He thinks that he owns me."
"Well maybe he has a right to think so." Henry offered, remembering the vise like grip of Mitchell's steel fists.
"No. We just went out once."
"Really."
"Yeah." she said. "To hear him tell it, we did everything under the sun. All I did was kiss him good night."
Henry remembered that they stayed out on the porch for several minutes. He also remembered that Mitchell's eyes glared at their every move. He felt like a cell under a microscope.
He became panic stricken when Mary stood next to him. She rubbed the points of her chest into his and spoke very softly.
"Henry, why is it that I know you for so long and that you never asked me out before?"
All Henry could think about was Mitchell's piercing eyes witnessing how close she was to him.
"Why don't we leave here?" she asked moving her hand to his crotch.
Henry could feel the hands working at him. He also could feel his observer's eyes peering at him.
It made him nervous to have someone stare.
"Henry," she whispered, "have you ever gotten a blow job?"
Henry could see Mitchell and he knew that he must have heard what they were saying. Now Henry knew that he couldn't but then, it was very different.
"Mary, I think that I'd better be going. It's getting late." he blurted.
"Are you kidding?" she laughed, not knowing the fear that he was feeling. Not understanding that he felt the fists of Mitchell Alvo more than he felt the stroking of her fingers on his cock.
Henry just wanted to get away, He wanted to run and be left alone. It just wasn't worth all this worry.
Listen Mary," he said pulling her hand off of him. "I really must go."
Henry turned from her and started to leave. He opened the door of the house. Many of the people who knew that Mitchell might be waiting for him, turned in anticipation of the bloody spectacle that could ensue.
Henry's pace quickened as he entered the room. He did not want to be caught by those fists. He ran past his sister, Ellen who had her lips firmly upon some boy that she had just met.
"Henry, how's it going with Mary?" she asked.
Henry kept moving through the crowded room. He was noticeably perspiring in great buckets of nervous tension.
The back door flew open with a bang just as Mitchell entered the room. He had every intention of carrying out his threat on Henry. He thought that he would thrash him in front of everyone. He was sure that this would make certain that no one but him, would ever dare to go out with Mary again. He would be like the legendary "fast gun" whose reputation kept him from violence. He would be deemed a killer and Mary would choose him because he would be the only one to choose.
Just as Mitchell made his first steps into the room, he saw Mary, with her usually pale face, was bright red. Her eyes were ablazed and she was raging.
"If that bastard tried anything with her ... " Mitchell thought as Mary shot into the room after Henry like a bullet fired from a high powered rifle.
Mary grabbed her object of rejection.
"No one gets away with that kind of shit with me, buddy." she thought.
Her words shot at Henry like molten lava.
"What's the matter big boy, can't you get it up for me?" she screamed causing everyone in the room to watch.
"What are you? Some kind of faggot?" she raged.
She was hurt. She would make sure that Henry would be hurt too. Besides, he might tell someone that he had rejected her and then she would look bad. She had always lead Mitchell on because she thought that it made more desirous, to him and everyone else but now things were different.
"Why don't you answer me?" she shouted.
Henry couldn't believe that this was happening. First, he get's threatened and now, the very person who caused him to get into this precarious position, was making him feel ashamed. He wanted to say something back to her. He wanted to explain to her. He wanted to explain to everyone that she was lying. That he had left her, but he couldn't. Henry kept walking from her as she continued to fire her assault.
"Come on big boy." Mary made her grand stand play.
"Fuck me right here. Come on, I said FUCK ME RIGHT HERE!"
Mary would make sure that everyone would want her after this night. Just as Henry was reaching the door, she tore the top of her uniform. Her large breast, being held by her restricting bra, pointed out the fine view of everyone.
"Come on," she yelled. "Prove that you're not a fucking homo coward."
Mary knew that at this point she had nothing to fear. She tore the front of her bra from her chest. She stood there, challenging Henry's manhood like a soul eating vampire.
Mary flung her hair back in a rage and stared through Henry's skull. Her eyes were ablaze and her heavy panting caused her large, free breast to heave. She was a gladiator who was tasting victory and doing it before a packed house.
Mitchell Alvo watched as he saw her breast sway with her breathing. He did not care that most of what she had said was probably false. He knew that he had frightened him off, but somehow, he really didn't care. Seeing Mary like this, made him realize that she had to be his. That was all he could think about and all he wanted.
The other party goers watched in amazement, with their mouths agape as Ellen's brother left the room, his half naked accuser must be right. They would tell other's that he wasn't a man.
Henry remembered slamming the door shut and cursing himself for the things that he had done. He knew that no one, not even his sister, would believe the real story now.
"And what was the real story," he thought. "That I was a coward. Afraid of some big guy with a big mouth."
He walked home that night, not knowing which story had done him the most harm: the fabrication of his sexual preference, or the real knowledge of his cowardness.
Henry didn't talk to anyone at the school the next day. He could tell by their looks and their quiet voices to their friends, that they had heard what happened between Mary and he.
Henry welcomed the move that his father suggested that next year. It got him away from all the false rumors that had spread.
Henry smiled now at his past. He looked down at Judy's soft, friendly face and knew that that was all behind him now. So was his dependence on his mother. She had helped him last night to experience things that he wasn't sure that he would ever feel. She prepared him for what had happened between him and Judy, but he knew that with Judy, he would have no trouble relating. He knew that with Judy, everything would be fine. That nothing would or could go wrong.
The soft pressure of Judy's lips on his chest, broke Henry of his past visions. She looked up to him and the look in his eyes told her that he was hers.
"Good afternoon." he said.
"Good afternoon." she repeated.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
Judy sensed that his innocent question was not as innocent as it appeared. She knew by the length of time that it had taken her to finally get him, that Henry's feelings were extremely sensitive. He could be crushed if she didn't answer him right.
"I feel great." she answered kissing him softly.
Henry felt relieved. She would not betray him.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
"Fine. I feel perfectly fine ... now. As a matter of fact I feel GREAT.”
Michael Harrington came back to his house after he had completed his afternoon work. He entered his house and wondered what would be waiting for him when he got there. He had vague memories of what he had done to his wife last night.
"How do I know that she did anything with Manuel?" he thought. "She never did admit to fucking him."
He advanced several feet into the house.
"The only thing that I'm sure of, is that I helped my wife give George Kilmer head." his feelings of remorse were drowning him.
Harrington walked through the house searching for a sign of his wife's presence.
"I hope that she didn't leave me?" he asked himself.
With a growing panic building inside of him, he raced to the kitchen. He pushed open the doors and looked about the room.
"Tammy." he called.
Silence was the answer that he received.
"Tammy!" he called out again.
Silence, again greeted him with its response.
Michael raced up the stairs to the bedroom. That was the last place that she could be. He opened the door and saw his wife lying nude beneath a sheet on the bed. He tiptoed toward her.
Harrington soberly studied his wife's visage.
"Was this the women that I accused, bound and judged last night?" he thought. "Surely she could not do anything wrong."
Gently he tapped her on her shoulder.
Tammy Harrington was just awakened by the loud screams of her husband's voice echoing from the kitchen. She decided that it would be best not to answer him. She would let him come to her. She no longer cared what he felt about her and Manuel. It was due to his error that she had been unfaithful.
"Not error." she thought. "But his doing."
She would let him come to her. Judging by the tension in his voice as he charged from room to room, she felt that he must have thought better of his actions the prior evening.
She remembered that his eyes were starting to well up with waves of guilt ridden tears as he finally untied her from her bounds. She didn't say anything to him as he left this morning and she refused to say a word to him just last night.
She had been forced to swallow the cream of two men last night and she would make her husband swallow more than that today.
She pretended to be asleep when she heard Michael race into the room. She forced herself to hold back her smile as she heard him quietly approach her "sleeping" form.
"Now he wants to be gentile." she thought. "But last night was a different story."
Until last night, Tammy had been the perfect wife to him. Now, with the thought's of his alcohol ridden body still resided in her mind, she was really a different woman. She had enjoyed her short liaison with Susan Kilmer this morning. It helped to set her mind straight. Now, she was ready for her husband.
Tammy felt his rough flesh pat her shoulder. She opened her eyes slowly, doing an award winning acting job for a woman awakening. She looked into her husband's eyes and instantly read the fear there. She knew that she was in the driver's seat.
Michael saw her eyes opening. He knew that she was still suffering from the effects of his actions the evening before and so he was very careful of what he would say.
"Tammy, I have to speak with you?" he asked softly.
"Can you talk?"
"Tammy, it's very important to me, to us.”
Tammy could hear in his voice that she could eat him alive. He was hurting now and she would use this to her advantage.
"Michael; I have nothing to say to you. After what you did to me last night, I'm surprised that you even had the courage to come back here." she said with all the hate that she could muster.
"Please," he begged. "Please let me explain what went on."
"I know what went on, Michael." she spat. "I vomited the results of what went on, before."
"But you have to let me explain."
"Did you let me explain to you last night?" she said pulling the sheet up to her neck, allowing her legs to stick out to her silkened thighs.
"I know that it seems as though I didn't trust you, but you have to understand ... "
"Understand what?" she broke in. "That you and your best friend and neighbor raped me."
“No." he begged.
"That you shot your come into my face?"
"No." The tears began to fall from his face.
"That you made me swallow your vile tastes?"
"Please ... " he cried.
"That you watched and let another man put his cock into my mouth."
"Please Tammy," he cried falling onto her chest "Please let me make it up to you."
Tammy smiled as her husband buried his weeping face into her. She felt his tears wet that sheet that was separating them. She would allow him to remain there for a moment and then, then she would make him her slave.
"Look up at me, Michael." she said in her coldest tones.
Harrington looked up at her through his soaked lenses and prayed for a miracle that would return her to him.
"I’ll stay with you but there will have to be a number of changes made," she said.
"Anything." he sobbed.
"First, I never want you to accuse me of cheating on you again."
"Never, never again."
"Do you know why you won't have to accuse me?"
He shook his head.
"Because I'm telling you that I'm going to be fucking every piece of meat that I like." she said coldly, mocking her former tormentor.
"But ... " he said.
"That's not all, sweet. From now on, we'll have separate bedrooms. The only time that you'll be allowed to come in is when I want you to service me."
"But Tammy ... " he tried to interrupt.
"Another thing." she demanded. "I want to entertain my "gentlemen callers" right here in this house. I mean, you really wouldn't want me to fuck around on the outside? Then you wouldn't be sure if I was faithful. This way, you'll know for sure."
Harrington knew that he would have to accept anything that his wife wanted. If he wanted to win her back, then he would have to endure. He heard her demands and they cracked in his head like the mocking laughter that accompanied each.
"She wanted men, women and freedom." he thought. "And she wanted to have them all here, right under his nose.”
"And one last thing Michael." She continued. "I want you to listen in at the door. No, better still, I want the door to be opened all the time. I want you to watch me as each man comes in me. I want you to watch as I let them come in my face as you did to me last night." she laughed.
Harrington saw no way out.
"Well, speak up! What do you have to say about all this?" she asked.
"I'll do whatever you want." he pleaded. "Anything. Only please try to understand what I did, please try to forgive me."
"I'll forgive you. alright." she said to his wet eyes. "As a matter of fact, I think that I forgive you already."
"Stand up, Mike!"
Harrington rose from the bed.
"I want you to service me," she said slowly.
Harrington smiled. "Perhaps this whole thing was an unpleasant dream, after all." he thought optimistically. Maybe when he woke up, things would be back to normal.
Tammy pulled the sheet from her body, exposing herself fully to her husband.
Michael could feel the lump in his pants grow. He quickly pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shoes.
Tammy watched as Harrington unfastened the top of his pants. He downed his fly and pulled out his weapon which was enlarging in size rapidly. She waited until he had pulled off his pants and neared the bed, before saying a word.
"What do you think that you're doing?" she teasingly asked her husband whose rod went grown to the point at which it had become painfully erect.
"You said that you wanted me to service you."
"Not with your cock. I'm not sure that my weaken box could stand the thrusting of that great big joint of yours." she said as she intentionally teased him.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked with his painful prick standing at attention.
"I want you to eat me," she said as she pointed to her pussy. She raised it to his gaze so that he could taste it in his mouth.
"Alright." he said, happy to oblige.
He lowered his head between her legs. As soon as his tongue touched her cunt he heard her voice shouting.
"What are you doing? Not there, it hurts there."
She turned her body over onto her stomach.
"I want you to eat my ass." she said.
Michael Harrington lowered his tongue onto her mounds. He heard her laughter ring throughout the room as his tongue tentatively dug into her ass.
He was clearly her slave and she was the master. He cursed the night before, and George.