Chapter 4
Katherine had decided there was no use in waiting while two flats were repaired and then either driving with breakneck speed or arriving late for her meeting in Albuquerque. She caught a ride with a brash looking truck driver back to the service station in town, gave the attendant instructions about the car and made a long distance call to cancel the engagement. Then she walked the half mile back to the house.
Even before she entered the front door, she thought she felt a strange apprehension. Perhaps it was the silence, perhaps intuition. Or maybe just lingering suspicion about the way Lys had seemed to be flirting with her husband, Paul at breakfast. But as she went through the door she was almost on tip-toes, and she was listening intently for some sound that would let her know everything was in order.
That sound was not forthcoming.
She walked through the den and into the kitchen, noting with some surprise that the dishes had been washed. She stood still for a moment, wavering on her feet, and called Paul's name out, but so softly he could not have heard had he been anywhere but one of the immediately adjoining rooms. Then she started out, intending to take the short cut across the patio to see if they were in the den. But at the doorway she stopped, her mouth gaping.
The old comforter they used only for the coldest months of winter was spread on the tile in the sun in the middle of the patio. Stretched our there on his back, naked, was her husband. Straddling him was their son's girlfriend Lys, also naked. Katherine watched dazed as the blonde took his hardened penis in her hand, directed it up between her widespread thighs, then lowered her body. Her face contorted at the contact. Katherine heard a low soft sigh and saw her squirm her widely stretched young vagina slowly down on the hard, long shaft until she was impaled completely, sitting, on him, her body still upright and her firmly upstanding breasts catching the bright sun, her buttocks pressed tight down against the hard cushion of his thighs and testicles. For a moment she waited motionless there; then she began to sway and writhe her torso, squirming her hips hungrily down on the rod that skewered pole-like up into her small body.
"Oh God," Katherine watched wide-eyed. It looked large enough to reach all the way up into her stomach in this position.
Katherine watched Paul's hands move up to caress her pelvis, to guide the rhythmic up and down bouncing of her body. The girl threw her head back, looking up at the sun as though she were a pagan worshipping it, closing her eyes as though unable to look upon the face of her god. Her hair dangled to sweep in a brushing motion over Paul's knees as she turned her head slowly from side to side. With her own hands she reached up to squeeze her breasts, fondling her nipples and pushing them together and upward like a girl in a lewd pin-up display. As Paul's upward lunging increased, her own writhing became more pagan, snake-like.
My god, she is beautiful!
Katherine thought. Never had she seen such perfect skin, such flawlessly contoured breasts, such long and beautiful hair, and such an ass. Enraptured, she watched them, swaying on her own feet almost in time with their movements. She could hardly believe the obscene splendor of the act, not done sneakily in the darkness but with wanton abandon in the open in the brilliant sunlight. And the look on Paul's face was like nothing she had ever seen, a look of power and triumph and ecstasy.
She felt the strangest impulse. She wanted to go to them. There was a feeling inside her she'd never experienced before. It was as if she were enchanted, as if she had no control over herself, as if an unknown outer force were determined to make her a part of the blissful, lust-inciting scene unfolding before her. She thought she may have even took a step or two toward them, before she remembered her own lewd fingering of herself last night and suddenly with an equal lack of control over her actions turned and fled silently from the house.
Katherine didn't even know how long she'd been sitting in the little side street bar, a place frequented by truckers and hicks, where she and Paul or any of their circle of acquaintances would never be seen. A twangy hillbilly tune was playing on a scratchy record on the jukebox and sitting down from her was an old drunken woman and a young cowboy with pimples. The bartender was snoozing on his stool and the clock told her it was after dinner. She hardly even remembered coming here just vague glimpses of herself running from the house and down the road until she was too exhausted to run, then walking without even thinking of her direction. She had always abhorred this place and the several other honky tonks of similar decor on this street and the next one over.
Gradually, the scene in the patio of her husband and their son's girlfriend locked in a lewd, nakedly writhing embrace flooded her mind. Now removed from it, she could hardly believe the lust and passion that had gripped her, as if invisible currents had been running from their bodies to hers, pulling her out of herself and into an exotic world beyond anything that had ever been a part of her reality. Then she'd remembered what she'd seen the night before and went running away, scarcely conscious of what she had done. Now she couldn't understand the forces that had gripped her, had made her do that horrible thing to herself with her fingers while standing in the hallway and watching her own son make love to a young teenage girl.
Katherine drank the last of her gin and tonic, made a hissing sound to wake the bartender, and ordered another one. The little bitch! she thought. The shameless, vicious little bitch! Though it wasn't so much that she cared about Paul. Perhaps he deserved a little fun after the way Katherine had treated him all these years. But corrupting her son and taking him from her, teaching him to do the lewd and disgusting thing Katherine had seen him doing the night before, that was something else. And after all, Lys was a guest, however unwelcome, in her house. And Paul was her husband.
A sudden thought shot through her alcohol fogging mind: If she's had my man, why shouldn't I have hers?
She giggled, which startled the bartender again. Sheepishly she looked down at the bar and sipped her drink while he drifted back into his half slumber. That wasn't what she'd really meant to think, she decided. That was the most ludicrous of fantasies, but a fantasy that after what she'd been through the last two days she was certainly entitled to. But she would have been genuinely happy to see another woman, almost any woman, get Tom now. She'd like to see that little bitch of a blonde put in her place.
She finished her drink and ordered another, and after that a third. A third since she'd started counting, that was. She wasn't sure how many she'd had before she started the conscious tally, but she didn't think it was too many. She felt far from drunk and she didn't imbibe alcohol that regularly.
She was on her fourth, since the count, when the vaguely familiar looking man came in and sat down two stools away from her. He nodded at her and though she couldn't place him, she smiled back pleasantly. She didn't want to talk to him, or anybody else for that matter, but she thought being unpleasant in this sort of place could probably be even more trouble in the long run than being amiable. And she certainly didn't want to leave now. She had nowhere else to go.
"Can I buy you a drink?" the man asked after a moment.
Katherine smiled and shook her head and gestured toward her glass. Then she saw it was empty.
"Give the lady another one," the man told the bartender.
She didn't feel she could refuse, so she offered him a muffled thanks and turned her attention to her new drink. The man got up and put a half a dollar in the jukebox and played the same song that seemed to have been playing most of the time since she'd got there. When he came back he sat a stool closer to her and moved his drink over. He had a faint odor about him, not dirty, just the sweat of hard work, and breathed hoarsely as a chain smoker.
"You don't act like you remember me, baby?" he said.
"Should I?" She didn't look at him as she said that.
"You had a flat tire, couple of 'em, this afternoon."
Embarrassed, she turned suddenly toward him. She wondered how she'd managed not to associate him to that. Though when he'd stopped and given her the lift she'd already been in such a state she was scarcely noticing the world around her.
"I'm sorry. I really am extremely sorry. And it was so nice of you. I just had something on my mind and I wasn't paying attention."
He shrugged. "It's all right. Happens all the time with beautiful women."
She pondered the implication of this and decided she didn't want to think about it. But she did look at him now, perhaps for the first time really closely. He seemed rather dull as far as hismental or spiritual aspects were concerned. Other than that he just looked big and drunk and very hairy. Certainly not handsome, but if homely in a crude sort of way that wasn't completely displeasing. He reminded her of the stereotype of so many of the people in that small Arizona town where she'd grown up, the lungers and gropers and pawer-uppers she'd gone out with before she'd gotten involved with Paul. And she had no doubt from the way he was looking back at her that his approach would be about as uncouth as theirs.
Katherine turned back to the bar and finished her drink.
"My name's Bill," the man said in her ear, then shouted to the bartender: "Give her another one."
"No," said Katherine. "I think I really must be going."
"Don't be silly."
He slapped the bar and before she could get herself up off the stool, or think about getting her money out to pay for the drinks she'd had before Bill came, there was another before her.
"Thanks," she said reluctantly and took a healthy gulp of the gin that now, because she had had so many, had become almost tasteless. She could feel Bill's eyes on her, hungrily devouring her slender body, stripping off her skirt and sweater in his dreams. She knew what he had on his mind. There wasn't the slightest doubt about that. He thought she was just another barroom pick-up and he probably took for granted that he'd have her in the sack before the afternoon waned. It disgusted her.
But it seemed now that the whole world was disgusting. All around her lascivity seemed to have become the way of life.
"How 'bout a dance?"
"No thanks."
"Aw, come on," he said. "It won't hurt."
He put his hand on her shoulder and she stiffened and tried to shy away. But his fingers dug into her flesh and held her, not brutally or painfully, just tightly enough to make it difficult for her to refuse. Reluctantly she took a last bracing sip of her drink and rose and let him lead her to the center of the small dance floor. He gave a slight, absurd bow and took her in his arms and began to guide her about the floor to the shuffling rhythm of the song. He pulled her close to him. At first she tried to hold her body back but resistance seemed more trouble than yielding, and after all it was innocent enough, just dancing, even if the contact of their bodies was somewhat suggestive of something not so innocent. After a moment she completely surrendered, letting him squeeze her light body tightly to his barrel-shaped belly and muscular chest, mashing her tender breasts, his thighs brushing forcefully against hers. Through his trousers she sensed the stirring of his maleness; like a snake uncoiling to rigidity it inched its way upward along her stomach, swelling until it was an enormous hard force. She made but the faintest effort to draw away, but he still held her firmly to him.
"I'm what you might call a long distance man," Bill said into her ear. "Like working for the telephone company. Last week it was New Orleans. Next week Seattle. After that who knows?"
They danced for a moment longer in silence. She thought he must epitomize everything she hated in men. His brash, overbearing manner. The fact that he was talking to her and dancing with her for only one, obvious reason: because he wanted to get between her legs, he wanted to take and violate her body and beyond that cared nothing for her at all. But it didn't seem to matter now. Nothing mattered. She didn't even object as she felt his hand inch down her back, brushing first lightly over the swell of her soft, inviting buttock, then more firmly, kneading both of them almost greedily with a total disregard for what the other people in the bar might think of her.
"I've got a little room up the street," he whispered in her ear, patting her on the buttock with his hand, then again letting it come to rest, even lower where the cleft began down into her thighs. "Nothing special. But it's cozy and I can get a bottle of gin."
"No."
"You need a little break," he continued. "I could see that even this afternoon."
The song stopped, but he still held her to him and waited for the next, then they began again. He brought his hand up from her hips, running it lightly along her spine, causing funny little chills to flow through her body. Then he dragged it beneath her arm and mashed the side of her breast. Again she remembered the lewd but exciting sexual things she'd seen last night, then this morning. The alcohol had dulled her anger somewhat; or perhaps Her mind had just been forced to cope with it and disperse it, dilute the disgusting images to enable her to face them. And now she was able to wonder pragmatically what she was going to do. She could hardly go home, not after what she'd seen there and what she'd done too. She hardly deluded herself about her own innocence. Perhaps standing in the darkness eavesdropping and fingering herself was even worse than what Tom and Paul and Lys had done. But she certainly couldn't go on drinking here.
Without warning Bill suddenly kissed her on the lips. She let him do it; her lips met his without resistance even as his tongue snaked sloppily into her mouth. And as he moved his hand between their bodies, pressing his palm hard on her breasts, she felt a lewd stirring sensation as her nipple swelled. Then that song ended and he led her back to the bar. She felt suddenly just very tired, worn out both physically and spiritually. Bill ordered them two more drinks and again she didn't refuse merely because it seemed easier to accept.
"I'll tell you what." Bill said. "You look like you're pretty well done in anyway. Why don't you let me take you back to the room, and well have just a couple of belts. Then you can take a nap."
Katherine cast him a sardonic glance. He crossed himself, staring at her with his watery, red eyes, his face hidden behind an attempted mask of sincerity. His eyes dropped momentarily to her breasts. Then he looked up again at her face.
"You must really think I'm stupid if you think I believe that for a minute!"
The sharpness of her voice caused him to draw back. Then she laughed softly. What difference did it make now? she wondered. All she wanted to do was lie down for a while. Get out of this horrible bar. Avoid having to go back to her horrible home. And after what she and the rest of her family had done, what difference did one truck driver make?
"All right," she said softly. "If you promise you won't molest me."
"Cross my heart!"
He crossed himself again.
It was a shabby motel with dingy, smelly rooms. Often as she'd passed in the car Katherine had wondered who would stay in it. Now she knew. The truck driver had got a half pint of gin before they left the bar and paid for not only the drinks he'd invited her but the ones she'd ordered before he'd come, which she'd let him do with certain misgivings. Now she knew why. The cramped and dingy look of the room with its rickety bed and stained sink and off colored curtains only served to impress on her the sordidness of her own presence here. She'd been picked up in a dive and brought to a cheap motel by a man who's last name she didn't even know. Even as it repulsed her, the realization of those facts gave her a lewd excitement. It seemed the most degrading, disgusting thing she could ever do, even more so than her frenzied finger fucking of herself last night in the foyer that lead to Tom's room, or her delirious, almost spiritual anticipation those few moments she watched the same woman being fucked by her own husband this afternoon. It seemed somehow a deserving climax to those other two events.
But even so she knew she couldn't go through with it even if she had wanted to.
Bill poured her a drink in the glass on the sink and took a shot from the bottle for himself. "Like I said, it's not much." He gestured around the room. "Just one of many homes a traveling guy like me has to have." He shrugged. "What I'm trying to say is this: you don't have to worry with a guy like me about none of the things that might be worrying you, like gossip and all."
Katherine looked him over more carefully even than she had in the bar. He looked like a genuine stupid brute. Her husband and son should see this, she thought. Then she shuddered and turned abruptly away. She took a long sip of the drink and stared through a tear in the curtain at the dirty stucco wall on the opposite side of the narrow street. It was -lined up with old bent up beer cans and a piece of yellow newspaper, caught on a rock, flapped in the light breeze. What a different world this was from her own home, what it had been until yesterday. And it was less than two miles away.
She started suddenly as she felt the man step up behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder, his barrel belly pushing at her spine. She took a step forward, as far as she could go without jumping through the window, but he followed. His hand moved down her shoulder onto the unprotected upper portion of her breast above the bra cup. She felt his warm breath on her neck, which caused her to shiver, and the hard obscene prodding of his penis in the crevice of her soft buttocks.
"No, Bill," she pleaded softly. "I can't. I just can't."
He ignored her, putting both his arms around her and cupping her breasts strongly, massaging them brutally through the bra, causing her to recoil backward and drive her buttocks onto the giant protrusion in his trousers until she could feel it touch up against the very hole of her anus. It was a strange, not unpleasant tickle that caused her whole body to stiffen. At the same time she felt his tongue flick over her ear, causing a pleasing chill to shoot down her spine. She only faintly resisted the hand that moved down her belly along the outside of her skirt, making it scratch at the soft down of her pubis. Then as his finger touched her clitoris on the outside of her clothes and panties a shudder of delight caused her to press her buttocks backward even harder against the large organ that through her skirt and panties prodded threateningly against her anus.
A soft moan escaped her and she began to grind her hips back sensuously as his hand, still on the outside of her skirt, teased her swelling clitoris. His other hand tugged at her sweater, at last managed to get it out of her skirt, then moved up beneath it and pushed at her bra cups until they popped off her breasts, still tight on her and cutting painfully into the soft, luxurious upper curves of them so that she cried out. Then the touch of his fingers on her nipples compensated for that, and her cry was transformed to a whimper ofjoy.
She hung her head back, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at the soiled ceiling with its great cloud-like stains that looked like stains of semen and vaginal fluids on an old mattress. She forgot herself for a moment, who she was and what it was that she was doing. She let herself bask in the real joy of the perfect stranger's hand mauling her fabulous breasts and the hard knob of his cock pressing hotly at her anus, the warm and vivid friction of his finger teasing at the excitedly jumping little bud of her clitoris through her skirt.
She felt as she were about to jump out of her lifelong innocence and purity into a new and unexplored realm. She was about to escape from a tightly walled place, or burst through a membrane it was something she'd never conceived before, neither the invisible, indefinable prison that held her, or this still unknown world of hedonistic freedom she felt lay just beyond. And she was almost there, she thought, squirming even more wildly as he shoved his hand down inside her skirt and beneath the elastic waistband of her panties, through the softness of her pubic hair to touch the pleading little tip of her clitoris nakedly without the interference of her skirt, sending waves of even more maddening and demanding pleasure soaring hotly through her body.
She was almost there. Then something snapped. Her whole body went stiff. A wave of nausea shattered the twinges of joy that had held her enraptured.
In a swift, determined movement she slithered out of his grasp and before he could seize her again she was halfway across the room from him, turned to face him, her eyes wild and wide and filled with tears, her usually neat hair asunder and standing out savagely, her sweater untucked from her skirt and pulled up from her waist, on one side caught on her gorgeous, exposed breast and only half concealing the other. She looked down at herself with disbelief, then up at the sweating, hairy brute of a truck driver, staring at her with a look of total amazement and stupidity. She could hear her own hoarse, hastened breathing, and inside her panties where just an instant ago his calloused working man's hand had tortured her swollen clitoris to pleading ecstasy she felt the tell-tale moisture of her cuntal excitement.
"What in the hell's wrong with you babe?"
"Stay away from me," she screeched like a tigress.
She tried to pull her sweater down over her nudely exposed breast but it was caught beneath the cup of the bra, which still tore mercilessly into the tender, pliable flesh.
"Christ, you were just about to cum from my finger," he said, still sounding half dazed.
"And shut your filthy mouth!"
He responded to that with an initial incredulous silence, then burst suddenly into an uproarious laughter.
"But you didn't know, did you? You didn't know because you don't know what that is?"
Still gaping-mouthed with amazement the lewdly grinning truck driver came lunging toward her.
"Stay away, you brute!" she hissed, retreating in the corner.
"You didn't even know you was going to pop your nuts," he said again just as he reached her.
She whimpered softly as he came bearing down upon her, breathing hard, moving it seemed with the irrefutable motion of a train, a giant unleashed storm that would devour or rend asunder all that stood in its path. She threw her hands up feebly in defense, but she didn't resist as he pushed them out of the way. Then as that horrible vision of her son and his young girlfriend, Lys, flashed again in her mind, she felt her legs go weak. She collapsed sobbing on his chest.
He half-led, half-dragged her to the bed, but she didn't try to hold back. She didn't care any more. It didn't matter that she didn't know him, or that she didn't even like him. Nothing mattered nothing but the gnawing desire up in her moistly flowing vagina, the need that was like nothing she'd ever experienced before, that engulfed and overwhelmed and made her helpless before its relentless command.
She had to have a penis, any man's penis, even this man's. She had to have it inside her, to stretch her cunt wide, fill it until she felt it would burst it, tear it through into the depths of her being. Even if it repulsed her or hurt her physically, she had to have it. It seemed it would be a cleansing, not only of her maddening physical desire, but of the deeply tormenting guilt that possessed her. It was her only possible atonement for the things she had seen last night and this morning.
"I don't know who the hell's been seeing to your love life," Bill grunted, tearing the blouse and brassiere off her head to expose and free her large firm breasts. "But I'm going to give you a fucking like you never dreamed of."
"Yes," she gasped. "Yes do it!" She couldn't believe the words were hers. "Fuck me like that! Do it to me real dirty!"
Anticipating him she unsnapped her skirt and wriggled out of it, then pushed the flimsy nylon panties off her voluptuously curved hips, revealing completely her lithe, well-tanned body. He watched with appreciation that was madly lascivious as he pulled off his own shirt, to expose that enormous chest as hairy as an ape's, and then began to get out of his trousers.
Her eyes half closed, drifting a dream of unfulfilled ecstasy, Katherine watched his giant, throbbing cock approach her. It looked frighteningly large, as if it would tear her apart, as if she could never bear to have it thrust into the tightness of her tender, sensitive cunt. But that was what she wanted. She wanted to be hurt by it, torn and tortured until this maddening longing was expiated and somehow she could become herself again and escape the grips of this obscene delirium.
"Yes, fuck me!" she said again, a throaty whisper that she could hardly imagine was coming from her. "Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me." She'd never said that word before; now, as she lay down on her back and watched him crowd on top of her, the giant cock lowered toward her crazed and pleading body, it was like a chant swirling up in her throat.
She felt his hands press her legs wide apart, his fingers moving down the tender flesh of her inner thighs, the weight of him lowering hard upon her body. She heard the bed springs creak and felt it sag beneath her hips. Then his hands touched the lips of her excitedly throbbing vagina, pulling them open wide and stretching them, his thumbs prodding her clitoris, his last fingers sliding between and spreading her buttocks.
Then a shudder went through her body as she felt the first sharp stab of the truck driver's cock, thrusting against the tightness of her nakedly trembling cunt, until just the head of it nestled between the burning lips.
"Oh god!" she screamed, feeling the incredible pain, yet even as it hurt her wanting it more.
He shoved forward, dropping his belly so it was a great weight on her frail body. She extended her arms above her head, arching her surrendered breasts. Her fingers did a mad little ballet as she felt the heavy burning hardness inch slowly inward. Her body twitched and writhed, beyond her control as her last resistance gave way and the giant rubbery head of it and the long following shaft came plunging on, upward to the deepest depths of her painfully absorbing belly. Her face contorted with passion and a crazed cry of ecstasy burst from her lips.
The truck driver made a low, animal-like grunting sound, as if he were greatly satisfied with his accomplishment. Then he began to fuck her, drawing the thick shaft out and plunging it down, gently at first, then harder until his body jolted hers and caused her to punctuate her cries with eerie grunts of pain.
She lifted her legs outward into the air and then back in again, clasping them about his broad hips, the velvet folds of her vagina grasping him and squeezing tightly around the rigid pole until she could feel every inch of its punishing length, until in spite of the moisture that flooded and lubricated her cunt she was aware of the vivid sensation of friction with his every move. Her head flayed from side to side, her body white hot with the passion he'd unleashed. She locked her ankles high above his back, spiraling her ravenously hungry vagina up the full length of the heavily plunging shaft of his cock.
She forgot everything but the brutal assault on her pleading body. She no longer cared that what she was doing was wrong, that the fact that her husband, Paul, had had an affair gave her no right to act like a common whore. She forgot the respectable upbringing that had made her what she was, or what she had been until today, and screamed and pleaded for more, for him to fuck her harder, for him to break down those ill-defined walls that had prisoned, to take her into the light she'd glimpsed just beyond them.
"Oh god, fuck me like a whore!" She screamed. "Don't stop. Fuck me and make me cum!"
He clamped his lips down on one of her voluptuous breasts, his tongue flicking like a tiny whip over her yearning nipple. He hastened the rhythm of his movements, made his strokes harder until his body was a heavy lunging weight that crushed her. His hands tore madly at her flesh, clawing her so that she cried out. She felt his saliva dripping from his mouth where he kissed her breast, trickling slowly down to the ticklish flesh of her armpit. She thought she was almost there now, that she could have almost reached and touched that unknown bliss that awaited her. It was like a great surging wave bubbling up in a part of her body she was cut off from. She just had to break into it. Break into it. And she was so close.
Suddenly she heard a sharp angry curse. She felt Bill's movement stop. He tried to lay motionless on her, but she thrashed about madly beneath him. Then he started to withdraw, pulling his burgeoning cock up and out until it almost left her completely. She clawed at his buttocks, trying to pull him back down into her. The frustration was more than she could bear.
Then, before she knew what was happening, he rammed it back in viciously into her now openly welcoming pussy and began a staccato series of strokes, groaning, the groan swelling to an animal roar as he spewed his burning sperm deep into her slick, wet passage.
"Nooo!" she screamed, pounding his back viciously with his hands as she felt his movements begin to slacken, felt her own passion dropping from the peak it had almost reached. "No, oh god. Don't stop now!"
She still screamed and fought him even after he lay still and panting on her, a great dead weight. And even after his cock had gone flaccid and her belly felt as though it would burst from the volume of his cum, tried to continue her frenzied, frustrated hunching back, still cursed him with words she hadn't even realized she'd known.
Then he caught his breath and put his hand over her mouth to calm her, caught the wrist of the hand that flayed at him and pinned it above her head.
"Calm down, baby. It's not over yet."
"It's not?" she whimpered, seizing a desperate hope as she felt the cruel pain of unfulfillment surge through her.
"You can get it back up again it you want to," he said, looking at her slyly.
Then he turned loose of her wrist and in a sudden gesture withdrew his limp cock from her vagina, causing her body to contort in terrible agony. He rolled on his back, grinning lewdly as he watched the tears fill her eyes and spill down her face, the sobs make her slender shoulders shake.
"How?" she wailed.
He nodded down at his waist, where his cock lay limber and glistening with his cum and with lubricant of her cunt, which coated the awesome matted black hair around it.
"Suck it back up."
She caught her breath, shaking her head wildly from side to side. He put his hand on her neck and urged her to a sitting position, which she assumed reluctantly, staring with awe and terror at the cock which now looked like a pink, slippery worm.
"If you want it to fuck you some more?" he urged. "That's what you'd better do."
She couldn't. It was too much to ask. Anything, but she would never do that, never take a man's cock into her mouth. Especially if it had just been in her own pussy, fucking her to a state of delirium and then shooting its filthy cum in to mingle with her own juices. She thought of Lys sucking Tom, of the revulsion that had filled her when she'd seen that. And then she felt the stabbing frustration again, the longing in her own vagina for the fulfillment she'd been so close to. She couldn't stand it. If she didn't have that cock big and hard in her again, if she didn't find a release from the terrible agony of her longing, she thought she'd go out of her mind. Then she felt the pressure of Bill's hand on her back, shoving her face downward firmly. At first she resisted, then that gave way and she plunged down eagerly, her lips rounding instinctively and her tongue flicking out of her mouth for a furtive taste before she made a hungry little gurgling sound and drew it up between her lips and teeth, her nose snuggling tightly down into the stiff hair on his large balls.
Almost magically it began to twitch back to life, elongated, crawling tediously up her tongue toward the back of her throat. Shame filled tears spilled from her eyes and dripped off her cheeks into his pubis hair as she felt him arch his hips upward, thrusting his ever growing penis deeper into her widely ovaled mouth so that her cheeks were puffed out. She could taste the pungent sweetness of her own juices, coppery like a penny, and the distinct maleness of his cum. She could smell the vivid male odor of his sex. She thought this was the ultimate degradation. She felt lower than any whore, more immoral than any of the women whose names down through the ages had graced the pages of infamy. She was worse, even than Lys. Because Katherine knew what she was doing was wrong, was repulsed by it even as she did so. But she couldn't help herself. She had to have the truck driver's cock fucking up into her again at all cost.
The man moaned beneath her as her breasts dangled and pressed on his hairy belly. He moved his hands down her back and urged her to a kneeling position up beside him so that as she sucked his cock she presented him with a clear view of her nakedly up thrust asscheeks and the thinly spread lips of her vagina that seemed to spasm with desire in time with the fervent manipulations of her tongue and lips. Her love juices flowed out freely to trickle down and soak the softly curling pubic hairs that -lined the lips of the gently pulsating slit, cascading down the satin flesh of her smooth inner thighs.
He pushed his finger between her ripe, openly spread buttocks, flicking it over the moist hole of her anus, then down into the thin, bearded little mouth of her pussy. At the same time he worked his thumb mercilessly into the tiny puckered circle of her rectum, stretching wide the tight little elastic ring, causing her to jerk forward, taking even more of his cock in her mouth. He timed the upward thrusts of his hips with the dual probings of his thumb and finger into her cunt and asshole, and she sputtered and gagged as the now monstrous shaft brushed all the way to the hilt up between her lips and drove relentlessly back to her tonsils.
And then suddenly, Katherine felt the rising tide of building orgasm begin anew deep in her hotly quivering belly. The very obscenity of the act she was doing, the debasement and degradation which she'd accepted from this perfect stranger almost with gratitude, combined with the eerie pain of his thumb sunk deep up in her rectum and the pleasant teasing of his finger in her vagina to make strange ripples of fire dance wildly through her shattered nerves. She licked and sucked madly at the fleshy rod that was imbedded so deep in her mouth, her own saliva flowing as freely as her vaginal lubricants, mingling with the lingering love juices and semen his heavily fucking cock had placed in her mouth. She sucked at it frantically, as if she wanted more of it, as if she wanted her mouth violated by the spurting semen as she'd seen her own son's semen violate his teenage girlfriend's, Lys. And, in spite of her horror and revulsion at the lewd, obscene act she was committing, her own insides suddenly erupted in great white flashes of fire, trembling and tunneling through her veins in an endless stream of building pleasure. And then it burst deep up inside her. The invisible wall collapsed and she groaned around the thrusting cock in her mouth as the orgasm flooded in great sensual waves around the finger that now jerked rapidly in and out of her hotly clasping pussy from behind. It was like something she'd never dreamed of, indescribable, great waves of ecstasy and release that rushed through her body and made her scream with a muffled joy even as she held the giant truck driver's cock locked hungrily and tightly between her desperately working lips.