Chapter 2
Margie slowly closed the kitchen door behind her, shutting out the bright morning sunlight. For a moment she leaned against the flimsy door, her eyes closed in relief. It was done, and her mind was blank except for the singular image of the new tailpipe that jutted out from the undercarriage of her convertible like an obscene pointing finger of guilt.
She had slept fitfully the whole night and as soon as Ben had left the apartment to continue his relentless search for the hit and run driver, she had jumped out of bed, thrown on her white terrycloth robe and run down the back stairs to the garage. The car had been returned with a complete new muffler and tailpipe system just like Jamie had promised, and she hadn't even heard him take the car or return it.
Now she was again in the safety of her own kitchen trying to catch her breath. As if she were being watched, Margie walked nonchalantly to the breakfast counter and began fixing a pot of coffee. The pipe is fixed, she thought, and I'm in the clear. But the young redheaded housewife knew that no matter how much she rationalized, one fact remained: she was still guilty of hit and run murder, and nothing could change that.
Throughout her entire sleepless night she had wanted to wake Ben and tell him what she had done, but each time she decided to wake him, something in the back of her mind pulled the reins and made her stop. There was no getting away from it. If she told Ben that she had been the driver, then he would be forced to turn her in, and his promotion and their marriage would be wiped out in a single day. Too much happened to him since the construction accident, and if he found out that she was the killer he was looking for, it would probably destroy him and their marriage entirely.
Though she wanted to confess and clear her tortured conscience of the terrible guilt that haunted her, Margie knew it was too late. When she had called Jamie and asked him to fix the tailpipe she had taken the final step past the point of no return. From now on she must live with the knowledge that she had taken the life of a thirteen-year-old girl; a knowledge that she shared only with Jamie Barth.
Suddenly the telephone rang, its sharp intruding bell making her spill the cup of coffee that she held to her lips. It rang again and again while she wiped the coffee from her chin and robe, hoping that whoever was calling would hang up.
But it was only seven fifteen in the morning and no one else she knew would call her at that hour except one person, Jamie Barth, and he wouldn't hang up!
"Hello," she said uncertainly after lifting the receiver to her ear.
"Don't tell me you were still in bed," Jamie's voice said confidently. "You let the phone ring nine times, but I'll bet you've been up at least an hour. What's the matter, don't you trust me?"
"Yes, Jamie," she whispered as if someone else were in the room with her. "I trust you, but I guess I just wasn't sure...."
"But you saw the new exhaust system, didn't you?" he asked.
"Yes, oh yes. It looks wonderful," she lied. It looked like any other tailpipe to her, except that her imagination could see the blood of guilt on it.
"Good!" his high pitched voice intoned. "Now you know that I really want to help you."
Margie told him that she knew, of course, and wanted to thank him, though her conscience hammered at her: You're guilty and you're making another mistake, committing another crime! Turn yourself in and take the consequences before you get so involved with this guy that you'll never be the real Margie Carney again. Turn yourself in!
"Good! Then I'll be over to see you tonight and we'll have to make some plans."
"T-Tonight!" she said, surprised at his boldness. "I don't understand what you mean. What plans are you talking about?"
"You've got to have an alibi and a cover story," he told her. "If the police get wise, you've got to be able to tell them something, or you'll be in more trouble than you ever thought of."
"But, not her," she whispered frantically. "Not tonight! My husband'll be home and...."
"No baby," he laughed. "Your hubby won't be home tonight. We both know that he's never home before eleven o'clock, don't we? I'll see you at seven!"
"But, Jamie," she whimpered. "You just can't ... "
Her sentence finished to the click in her ears as Jamie hung up on her. Why did he want to come here, she thought, still holding the telephone in her slim long fingers. If I have to have an alibi, he could tell me what it is over the phone. Why does he want to come here? Ben would never understand.
Margie felt completely helpless as she left the kitchen and walked to the bathroom, taking an half-empty bottle of bourbon with her. A hot bath might calm her down enough to think, and the bourbon would certainly relax her, especially that early in the morning.
Twelve hours had passed and Margie stepped out of the tub for the second time that day and put on her robe again. Since Jamie had called, she had taken two baths, finished the bottle of bourbon, done the day's shopping while she was half-drunk, and bought another quart of the clear brown whiskey.
Sipping all day, she had finished the second bottle and was barely able to stand up without wobbling. Even though she had taken another bath to sober herself up, she was still too woozy to think straight, and the bourbon hadn't solved any of her problems. It was quarter past seven and Jamie was already fifteen minutes late, but she knew he'd come and she would have to hear whatever he said.
A heavy knock came from the front door and Margie stopped to pick up the two empty whiskey bottles that lay next to the bathtub. She walked unsteadily to the living room, depositing the bottles in the clothes hamper that stood in the hallway. She didn't want him to know that she'd been drinking and thought that her secret would be safe if the evidence were hidden beneath the dirty clothes.
A minute later she opened the door to see the tall gangling image of Jamie Barth standing in the doorway. He was almost as skinny as he had been seven years ago when she had seen him last, except now he was over six feet tall and his greasy black hair was no longer greasy, but long and curly with a windblown look ... and ... he'd obviously been drinking.
"What took you so goddamned long," he demanded roughly as he looked at the open neck of her white robe. He could see the beginning of the deep cleavage that ran between her full firm breasts. He knew that she'd always been stacked, but goddamn, he thought, now she was really somethin'. As his eyes traveled down the length of her body he could see her slim waist and the soft curve of her hips even under the bulkiness of the terrycloth robe. Jamie couldn't remember ever being this close to a woman who was built like her, especially one who wore only a short robe that was held closed by a single bow-tied belt.
Self-consciously, Margie pulled the top of her robe together as she let him in. His eyes made her feel as if she were stripped naked and a shudder rippled through the relaxed muscles of her smooth, flat stomach.
"I'm sorry, Jamie," she answered. "I was taking a bath."
"Too bad I didn't come sooner," he chuckled, an obscene grin exposing his nicotine stained teeth. "I need a bath myself."
Margie ignored his lewd remark and let him in. Obediently, she went to the kitchen when he asked for a beer and brought it to him. His outstretched hands took and bottle and glass from her and he told her to sit next to him on the couch. Afraid to refuse, she settled uncomfortably on the opposite end of the sofa and waited for him to speak.
"What'sa matter," he said, slurring his words. "You 'fraid of me? Come on and sit over here."
She was afraid! Something in his tone, in his manner, struck an alarm button and she wanted him to leave. But instead, following his command, she moved a little closer though not close enough for him to touch her.
"Tha's better, baby. Now we can talk," he said drunkenly.
It was obvious to Margie that he was drunker than she was, but he seemed to want to do nothing but talk. The alcohol in her system made her let down her guard as he babbled incessantly about things that she neither understood nor cared to understand until she heard him say: " ... so you oughta take care of me too."
"I-I don't understand." she stuttered.
"Whadda ya mean, ya don't understand?" he suddenly snapped at her. "Don't you have any goddamned brains. Why d'ya think I came over here tonight? 'Cause I wanted a lousy beer? You can bet your sweet little ass that's not the reason."
Margie blinked her eyes at his words. What a filthy mouth, she thought. He's just drunk and I won't let him talk to me like that, and Ben won't either. Ben ... Ben ... Her husband wasn't there to protect her! She suddenly realized through her alcohol daze that she was alone with this vulgar man. and she wasn't strong enough to stop him from talking anyway he wanted ... or doing anything he wanted. Was that the reason he came over?
"Look." he continued, not sounding as drunk as he had a moment before. "I've done you a big favor, a favor that'll keep you outta jail, so now you owe me a favor and I've come to collect."
What does he want! she thought, suddenly realizing that she was trembling.
"Hell, you're even dressed for it," he grinned. "One little flick of the wrist and that robe'll fall right off your shoulders. Then we can get down to some real wild lovin.'"
"Oh, my God," she gasped. He wanted her to ... to make love with him. No, she couldn't do it, her mind thought frantically and she started to get up, but the quart-and-a-half of bourbon that she had drunk during the day had dulled her reflexes so badly that she had hardly any control of her weakened muscles.
"Scare ya?" he asked as his arm reached out for the bow that held her belt fastened.
"No, Jamie," she whimpered, knowing her back was against the wall. "I can't do it. It's just not right!"
Suddenly Jamie fell back on the couch laughing so hard that he dropped his beer.
"Not right! Not right!" he laughed. "Jesus Christ, that's rich. You run down some poor little kid and take a powder, then you tell me it's not right for me to crawl between your legs for savin' ya!"
Margie wanted to run, to escape this laughing madman, but her muscles would not respond. His words echoed in her mind ... and nothing seemed real. No one talked like that to a lady, but she knew that he didn't think that she was a lady anymore. What was she going to do? She was helpless, and....
"Look, bitch," his voice interrupted her thoughts. "I really don't give a damn what you think is right. You and I both know what you've done, and don't think for one minute that just because there's a new tailpipe on your car, you're in the clear. I've got the matching piece buried outside of town, and if you don't do what I tell ya, I'll take it to the police and let them match it on the piece that fell off your car. All you gotta do is say no, and I'll make sure they have your proud little ass in jail before midnight tonight!"
Blackmail! That's what he was doing, she thought through her alcoholic haze. He's going to blackmail me and there's nothing I can do. I've gone too far. Margie realized that she would have to do what he said if she wanted to save her husband's career and her marriage. Even if Ben didn't solve the case he would probably get his promotion anyway. But if the law found out that she was the driver, then he'd be finished and so would she. She had to get the tailpipe from Jamie and destroy it, no matter what. Just this once she would have to do it with him ... let him "crawl between her legs."
She cringed as she thought the horrible obscene words but knew that no matter what he called it, it wouldn't be like really being unfaithful to Ben. She was doing it for him, for his career, and this skinny pale blackmailer would give her the tailpipe when they were done and she'd be free.
"I-I've never done it with anyone but Ben," she murmured with a tortured slowness. "But if you'll turn off the lights and promise to give me the pipe, then I'll do what you want."
Margie tensed her body as he started to slide across the couch toward her. Over and over she kept telling herself that she had to do it as she watched him put out an arm and place his hand on her knee. She shuddered at the touch of this obscene pale man who revolted her, but she made no move to retreat and limply dropped her head to the back of the couch. Jamie was the first man to ever touch her besides her husband and the sensation of his sweating hand on her knee frightened her. She saw the robe slip off her thighs in the half-light from the window, and closer her eyes to avoid seeing his grease-stained hand slip between the smooth tanned flesh of her legs. He twisted the hand and she relaxed her taut muscles allowing her knees to spread limply apart. Her mind whirled in an alcoholic vortex as she felt the light touch of his calloused hand slide easily along the soft insides of her trembling thighs. Momentarily, she thought of Ben's hands, free of callouses, but never soft and teasing like Jamie's. Why couldn't it be her husband who wanted her so much instead of this horrible strange man, she thought as she suddenly jerked at the fingers' teasing small circles around the outer edges of the soft triangle of pubic hair between her legs.
She groaned as she felt one of the fingers gently part the silken hair and slip through the open slit between the pink quivering lips of her vagina. A wave of shame spread through her mind as the finger passed lightly over her clitoris. Jamie's eyes were wide open and intense as he watched his hand carress the trembling flesh between her open thighs. He had slipped to the floor and knelt in front of her, his head between her knees, intent on the obscene spectacle that he was performing on this untouchable beauty. She could feel his hot breath blanketing her quivering thighs and wanted to scream and strike out at him. Her body shuddered as she fought mentally against the lewdly probing finger. Her only weapon was a mental block. No matter what she wanted to do, she would have to submit to his tortuous fingers ... and worse. But it was her own fault, and she would have to obey his depraved demands to get the tailpipe. If only he wouldn't tease her so mercilessly. If only he would do it like Ben, fast, and then it would be over. Then he would leave her alone and she would never have to see him again, except to get the incriminating pipe. Please hurry, her mind begged, just hurry and get it over with, then Ben will be safe and I'll be free.
She felt his heavy strong thumbs suddenly spread the quivering pink lips of her hair covered vagina and heard him emit a soft low whistle.
"Goddamn, you look tight." he said suddenly, his obscene words revolting her almost to tears. "Ol' Ben must have a pretty small prick if he hasn't loosened you up any more than that."
Margie shook her head in despair as tears started to stream down her cheeks. She couldn't believe what she heard as the skinny lust-incited extortionist spit out his obscene words. She had never imagined that a man could be so dirty, so crude. What kind of man could he be to first blackmail her into submitting her body to his lewd desires, then talk like an animal about her ... her private parts ... He had to be some kind of pervert to say those awful things about her and Ben.
"Come on, baby,'" she heard him say. "Stand up and let's get that robe off."
Obediently she stood, relieved that he had taken his teasing hands away from her naked loins. He easily unfastened the terrycloth belt and slid the robe from her trembling shoulders. Margie bit her lower lip in fearful anticipation as she felt his wet mouth caress her neck and then slide to the rounded tips of her firm trembling breasts. He sucked hungrily at the pointed pink nipples until the tiny round buds became hard in response to his mouth and she clenched her fists at her sides in silent protest. Jamie was panting as he sucked at her taut nipples and searched the soft curves of her body with his sweating hands, and Margie stifled a sob as she stood before him completely naked and a slave to his lust-crazed will. She had made the decision and had to stick to it, but she couldn't help the tears that flowed in a steady stream from her deep, sensual green eyes.
Her stomach fluttered with revulsion as she felt his moist lips sliding over her quivering breasts and toward her smooth flat belly. He was on his knees running his hard wet tongue in small circles around her navel, and she wanted to die. No one had ever kissed her anywhere but on her lips and face, and now this stranger had already hardened her nipples with his tantalizing wet mouth and was running his teasing tongue around her navel. She could feel a strange tittilating tingling coarsing through the rippled soft muscles of her ivory abdomen and fought with all her mental strength to subdue the rising sensuous wave of delight. He could do what he wanted, just as long as she would get the damning evidence he had hidden. The sensuous tingling was spreading through her long naked body, but she tried desperately to ignore it, concentrating on a buried piece of metal pipe somewhere on the outskirts of town.
As her throbbing head nodded numbly in an alcoholic daze she felt his rough hands push her well-rounded hips backwards and onto the couch. She opened her tear stained eyes as she sat down with a thump and saw him kneeling beside the couch, his half-open mouth slack with desire. Slowly he rose and stood victoriously over her, the massive bulge in his trousers seeming to throb directly in front of her terrified eyes.
Her naked body shivered with a sudden chill, yet felt strangely incomplete without his hands and wet tongue caressing her trembling flesh. Suddenly afraid of her own hidden desires, she threw the thought from her mind, and watched his shadowed form as he took off his shirt, exposing his bony hairless chest to her alcoholic gaze. So skinny, she thought as she watched him kick off his shoes and begin to unbuckle the belt on his trousers.
"Oh," she gasped as he suddenly shoved his pants down and his huge cock sprung from its imprisonment, jutting out from his tall, pale body directly in front of her frightened face.
It was unbelievable!
She had never seen any man's penis except Ben's, and had always thought it was big! But Jamie's was at least two inches thick and eight inches long ... and it lewdly twitched in the half darkness of the room, beckoning the deep well of desire that tingled in her trembling loins.
"Not ready, yet, huh?" Jamie sneered at her, and she dimly watched him bend over and fumble through his clothes in the dark. "Lie down," he commanded and she instantly obeyed.
In a moment she knew that he would climb on top of her and make love to her like Ben did, driving his swollen prick into her defenseless vagina until he triumphantly filled her with his scalding white sperm. She had never climaxed with Ben, and only once had she even felt the tremors of excitement lubricate her almost virginal passage with warm wet juices. Afraid, she clenched her eyes tightly shut and waited for the telltale weight of his thin emaciated body to press down on her naked flesh.
But he was going to wait too!
Suddenly her body jerked involuntarily at the light tortuous touch that raced a salacious path along her smooth inner thighs. She gasped spastically at the lascivious teasing and tried to clamp her legs together, but felt Jamie's strong hands push her trembling knees apart. She slowly opened her eyes to barely see Jamie's obscene grin as he lightly slid the five inch tip of a peacock feather he had hidden in his pocket along the quivering ivory flesh of her long supple legs.
Margie moaned as the tantalizing instrument traced tiny circles along the soft sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She wanted to scream, but knew that he would probably hit her if she did. The feather was too much, too cruel! Never had she experienced such a salacious, exciting sensation, but she had to fight the wonderful touch. She had to fight this strange obsessed man who was not her husband!
But Jamie would stand for no resistance as he grinned drunkenly down at the girl who was writhing under the power of his feather. He could easily keep her legs apart with one arm, and tease her relentlessly with the instrument in his other hand. With a lewd chuckle, he pushed the soft tip of the feather between the trembling lips of her hair-lined vagina and twisted it lightly so that it covered every inch of the tender pink flesh. Margie panted in short gasps, trying to find some kind of release in a scream, but nothing would come. She could feel the tormenting feather spur the long buried senses of desire that had remained undiscovered deep in the confines of her tight trembling cunt. She tried to fight the rising excitement until suddenly a flood of burning liquids poured off the smooth walls of her vagina, lubricating the pink quivering entrance of her tormented pussy.
"Ooohhh, no!" she moaned at the salacious torture. "Please, don't, Please!"
But the peacock feather turned again in the wet slit and its titillating tip slid between the soft red pubic hairs and brushed over the hidden pink bud of her untouched clitoris. For the first time in her life her felt the rising desire of her dormant clitoris as the feather flicked at it teasingly, begging the hidden bud to rise in an excited erection and her aching wet pussy throbbed as she heard Jamie's insane giggling laughter. As quickly as it had come, the lust-inciting feather suddenly left the tortured red bud of her clitoris, slid through her soft silken pubic hair and over her flat trembling belly. She gasped with relief as the feather turned circles on her skin, roving over her hips, then to her shoulders and down her arms, until the rotating tip ran over the full roundness of her full firm breasts. This tall skinny mechanic had blackmailed her, yet he had given her more pleasure in a few seconds with a feather than her husband had ever given her with his penis in seven years of empty marriage. Instead of screaming for him to stop, she began whimpering softly with pleasure as the feather, moist from her warm vaginal fluids, screwed lascivious circles around the jutting pink nipples that stood out from her quivering breasts. Shame and humiliation cried from the back of her confused mind as she slowly jiggled her breasts in response to the sensuous torture. But she was aware only of the throbbing ache down between her legs and the lewd tantalizing circles of the feather on her trembling breasts as it made every cell of her impassioned body begin to tingle with a burning desire.
Her pride and self-respect fought to gain control and forced an image of herself into her mind. She could see herself writhing slowly on the couch, the sensual feather teasing the taut red nipples of her breasts and tears suddenly began flowing from her eyes. She was like a slave at the hands of this torturing pervert, and he was forcing her to submit to his obscene probing to stoke the fires of his own desires. Worse yet, she knew that she was beginning to enjoy the tender light tracing ... no she couldn't enjoy it ... no ... no!!
Unwittingly she had pressed out her breasts until they stood straight up from her prone trembling body in defiance. The two jutting white orbs were demanding that they be teased and tormented with exciting pleasures that they had never known, and with their taut hard nipples, they seemed to be an entity completely apart from the rest of her body. But as she fought for control over her flushed body Margie felt the teasing feather run a salacious path through the persipring valley between her breasts and move downward toward the pulsating pink flesh of her warm moist cunt. She gasped as she felt it slide lightly over the silken red pubic hair, but almost cried in frustration when it didn't stop there, but continued on over the backs of her soft inner thighs. Jamie's lewd giggling had turned into a ceaseless heavy panting as he deftly turned the teasing feather in small concentric circles, homing in on the red elastic ring of her tiny untouched anus. The round white orbs of her soft, smooth buttocks suddenly jerked as he nestled the dampened tip of the tantalizing instrument against the clenching rubbery sphincter and twitched it back and forth.
"Oooooohhhhh," she moaned in ecstatic agony. "I can't take it any more. Oh God! Stoppp!"
Jamie punctuated his heavy panting with an obscene giggle as he watched her raise her full curved hips so that her clasping anus seemed to almost grab out at the feather. Her tortured mind cried for release from the rising passion, but her lust-maddened body craved even more of the sadistic teasing.
"Oh God!" she screamed. "No more! No more! No more!"
"You're ready to be fucked now, aren't ya," Jamie sneared at her, twisting the peacock feather against her wet clasping rectal orifice.
"Oh, please, yes." she begged. "Anything, just stop that feather!"
With her last gasping words the agonizing teaser suddenly lifted from her anus, leaving her breathless. She slowly lowered her upraised hips in relief and relaxed her clenching wet thighs. The agonizing torment had brought forth all the hidden untried desires that she had wanted to feel every time she had made love with her husband. Now she bit her lip in tearful frustration as she remembered what she had just told Jamie: that she wanted him to fuck her! Humiliated beyond her imagination's furthest bounds, she began to weep silently as she waited for him to plunge his throbbing cock into the wet cavern between her trembling thighs.
Wet ... Wet ... the words suddenly came to her. For the first time she was really wet down there, in her ... pussy! Margie couldn't remember ever hearing herself say or think that dirty word before and yet she just did ... pussy! What was becoming of her? Humiliated by her own obscene thoughts, she lay on her back waiting for him to fuck her and make her his virtual sexual slave for the night. She knew that she had no choice and that the tailpipe and her husband's reputation and his whole career depended on her giving her body to the sex-obsessed blackmailer. Somehow she would endure the torture, somehow she had to have the strength.
"You're gonna like this, baby," she heard Jamie whisper, his voice hoarse with a choking desire. "Every broad I ever fucked has always come back for more. Yeah, you think you're really hot stuff, but you'll be beggin' for my cock just like the rest of those bitches!"
Margie shuddered uncontrollably at the sound of his harsh voice in the dark, knowing that the time had finally come.
She winced as she felt the weight of his naked body climb onto the couch and settle between her widespread legs. His rough hands slid along the length of her smooth ivory thighs and brushed across the hair-covered lips of her wet aching vagina. His long slender finger grasped at the pink quivering lips, kneading them slowly for a moment, then with two fingers he spread the wet pink flesh apart. Margie rolled her head to one side in fearful expectation, a large tear falling from each eye. She knew that he was going to drive a finger brutally into her hot damp passage, then take it out and ram his giant jerking cock deep into her soft belly until she would pass out with pain.
But instead of ravaging her, he gently began to rub his coarse thumb along the moist open slit, teasing the trembling flesh and massaging her swollen red clitoris. And somehow, it suddenly didn't seem to be too bad, in fact it felt almost good, she thought hazedly as the large thumb brushed across her sensitive aroused flesh. Slowly and easily, as she tensed and moaned at the gentle probing thumb, and encouraged by her reaction he incerted a finger gently into her soft hair-lined pussy. The wet juices made the entry easy and he began turning the salacious finger back and forth, rubbing the smooth hot walls of her clasping vagina with his nails, loosening the opening for the massive attack of his throbbing prick.
"Goddamn!" he muttered. "You really are tight. Ol' Ben must not be worth a fuck if he let you stay this tight."
Margie gasped at his obscene comment then suddenly felt the huge mass of his pulsating cock slide up one smooth thigh and nestle between the open pink lips of her trembling, hair-lined pussy. As he raised and lowered his bony hips, making the red swollen head rub along the moist slit, she thought he would make love to her now like Ben always did, driving into her with one ramming stroke, then humping like an animal for a minute or two until he came. Her husband always did it that way, then get right off of her as soon as he was finished. She clenched the muscles in her face as she anticipated the harsh entry from the huge swollen prick.
Hurry up and get it over with, she thought helplessly. Do it and get off!
But Jamie was not like her husband. Despite his perversions and seemingly malnourished physical appearance, he was as much a wild lover as he claimed he was. Endowed with a magnificent cock, he had practiced for years on girls of all kinds, from whores to young hungry school teachers. And as he slowly rubbed the twitching head against the young Margie Carney's cunt he could hear her moaning unconsciously with pleasure. During seven years of marriage she had felt nothing like this, and now her body didn't want to give up the chance for the unfathomable ecstasy of orgasm. But it wasn't fair to happen like this. He was a blackmailer and a nobody and she mustn't give him the slightest satisfaction of knowing that he made her tremble with desire. He would have to use her like a whore before he could get what he wanted, she vowed silently.
But that's exactly what Jamie wanted to do!
"Moan bitch! You dig it, don't ya?" he growled. He, Jamie Barth had made that stuck up little bitch, Margie, lie down on her back and spread her legs for him, and she was loving it. She and all her friends had always snubbed him in school, but now he would get his revenge and make her pay for it. She had made too many mistakes, and now, half-drunk and naked, she was his to fuck any way he wanted; and he wanted to fuck that stuck up bitch like she was a dirty little whore!
Now knowing that her excited utterings and protests were only increasing his excitement, Margie moaned once more and tried to move her smooth white hips away from his teasing cock. But the massive jerking tip had already lodged its burning nose in the open entrance of her hair-lined loins and was ready to plunge into her tight wet cunt. Easily, helped by her warm lubricating juices, Jamie pushed his hips forward and clenched his skinny buttocks, thrusting the pounding red tip halfway into her aching vaginal passage. Her eyes sprung wide open in terror as she felt the tremendous prick slithering through her almost virginal entrance like a red-hot poker. She screamed in terror, but he pushed savagely forward again to sink another inch of her jerking rock-hard flesh into her tight clasping pussy.
"Oh, God, stop!" she whimpered.
Jamie looked down at his pulsing cock and held still for a moment, feeling the smooth wet cuntal walls enveloping his throbbing tip.
"What'sa matter, baby?"
"I can't take it," she wailed helplessly. "It's too big ... It hurts, oh it hurts!"
"Naw, it'll only hurt for a minute. They all say that. Just wait and you'll find out different."
"Aaaahhhhh," she cried again in a futile effort to escape the pain as he began to rotate his hips in large concentric circles. She felt the huge prick stretching her aching vagina, and involuntarily more of the hot, teasing juices began to flow from her cuntal walls, lubricating the strained passageway. Somehow the juices eased the pain and she thought that he must have destroyed her sensitive sexual nerve endings, but there were other fresh sensations, fiery tinglings deep in her smooth abdomen. The massive prick wormed around, rubbing every cell of her tortured vagina, but instead of stretching and hurting her, she felt the lascivious tingling sensations growing in intensity and head. Salacious thoughts ran rampant through her half-drunken mind and she couldn't dismiss the tormenting ripples of pleasure, but only transfer them to the center of the growing fire where the throbbing phallus was sinking deeper and deeper into the smooth wet confines of her defenseless belly. It was tearing at her insides and she was completely helpless against it. Somehow he was winning the battle. Somehow he had overcome her terrified naked body and made her his toy, his sexual plaything. He listened with lustful pleasure to her ecstatic groans and knew that he had won, that he, Jamie, was now king and not all the glorious football players he'd been a water-boy for. Yes, she had submitted to his torment and now was just as excited as he was ... he knew she wanted it, he knew it!
Oh God what's happening, she thought, as the waves of excitement grew stronger. I didn't want this to hap pen ... but ... but maybe I did. Oh God it's never been like this. Please, Ben forgive me.
"Love it, don't ya Bitch," he tormented her. "Come on, tell me that ya love it!"
His hips pushed forward and another inch of the massive throbbing cock sank into her fiery hair-covered cunt.
"Oooh, God!" she panted through her lust-incited haze.
She fought for control against his words. She wouldn't tell him that: She couldn't let him take everything, she thought frantically and twisted her body in helpless protest, but her sensuously squirming hips only incited him further.
"Come on, bitch," he yelled. "Tell me ya love it!"
"Alright, alright, I do," she hissed at him through her tightly clenched teeth, trying desperately to fight the obscene, exciting ripples that coarsed like wildfire through her body.
"No, you hot little cunt, Tell me you love to be fucked. Say it!"
My God, a numbed soundless voice echoed through her mind. He's like a tyrant crazy with power and lust! She had spread her legs for a maniac and he had turned her on like her husband never could have, and now it was too late to turn back!
"Ooooohhhhh," she moaned, not wanted to be degraded anymore by her own words. "Say it now!"
"I-I," she whimpered helplessly, not wanting to say the awful words, but she had lost control.
"I love to be fucked, Ooohhh, I want to be fucked," she suddenly growled from deep in her throat in complete unconditional surrender. "Fuck me, yes Fuck me!" .
He'd done it! Jamie Barth had made her beg for his cock and now he'd give it to her like he'd never fucked anyone. Eagerly in his passion and excitement he began to rock back and forth driving his throbbing penis in and out of her wet tortured cunt. But by now that was exactly what she needed, what she wanted. With each thrust she gasped a high-pitched, "Oh," as she felt the tight walls of her fiery cunt expanding with his driving, pounding cock until it adjusted to the thick massive size. This was it! This was what she had always dreamed of and never experienced. Every inch of her ravaged body was on fire with lust, excited to tremendous heights. She was like a prisoner, a slave and she was being fucked like a common street whore, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the exquisie electrifying shocks that shot through her sex-crazed body.
The throbbing cock rammed into her more viciously and she moaned with ecstatic desire. She felt the strength of his long hands grasp the quivering white orbs of her buttocks and lift her bottom off the sofa so that she was rising with his savage thrusts. Each thrust rammed the rigid prick against the sensitive clitoris as it slid in and out, hurting her, but she wanted to be hurt! She wanted to be punished for fucking with this obscene man, for being unfaithful to her husband, and for the cruel manslaughter she had committed with her car-.
"Love it, don'cha," he panted in her ear and rammed his massive cock as far as he could into her clasping hot pussy.
"Yes, oh yes! Fuck me harder, oh Fuck me harder!" she whimpered.
"Ben's no good, is he?" he whispered, wanting to be reassured in his sex-maddened mind that he was better than anyone, especially her big football hero husband.
Oh God, no, she thought at the mention of her husband. Jamie was right! He was better than Ben! How could I have done this, how could I have betrayed my own husband ... but her questions were unanswered, because she knew that Ben wasn't any good to her in bed. He was like an automatic machine, but Jamie, depraved and homely, was a wild man ... a man who could give the orgasm that she had never experienced before.
"Tell me, bitch! Tell me I'm better than Ben!"
"Oh, God, yes! You're better, you're better! You're the best!" she screamed.
He had won completely! Jamie Barth had won his cruel battle for her soul and now he wasn't about to let her go free. He was going to fuck her until she begged him to stop! Like a crazed animal he drove his jerking cock harder and harder into her hair-covered cunt, feeling like the taut red skin was about to be torn off of his rock-hard flesh. Sweat poured from his naked body and he heard their bellies slapping together in an obscene rhythm of frantic intercourse. She was still tight, but it felt so goddamned good, he thought and drove his pounding prick "into her again ... so good, so goddamned good.
Margie, tears of humiliation and unfulfilled passion in her eyes, could no longer control her lust-maddened body. She thrust her sweating hips up to slam against his pelvis as he sank his throbbing cock deeper into her hot wet quivering pussy. She had done everything that he wished, and now she had to cum! She had to have the one reward of her debasement, wild untamed orgasm!
She felt his long fingers clenching and unclenching frantically at the quivering flesh of her smooth white buttocks, making her whole body tremble with excited anticipation as the tide of orgasm rose in her belly and she felt the first ripples of her long awaited climax. She moaned a long cool moan, a helpless cry for salvation. Forced to fuck by a man, she had been forced to humiliation by the escessive sexual hunger that her body demanded, and now was about to burst as the tormenting pressure built, higher, wider, like a giant balloon. Then, suddenly, without warning, the ripples became waves and she arched her body higher, screaming with passion as the flood of orgasm spread through her jerking body for the first time in her life.
Feeling her buck and arch back, Jamie sensed her climax and let go of his pent up control, letting the white hot sperm swarm from his balls and shoot out from his aching cock in hot fiery jets until he emptied every drop into her open still-thrusting cunt.
She had really been somethin', and he wouldn't forget for a long time, not for a long time, he thought as he rolled off of her a few minutes later, leaving her naked ravaged body unconscious on the couch
Jamie had been gone for some time when Margie finally awoke. She didn't know when he had gone, or when she had passed out. All she could remember was the terrible degradation and humiliation that she suffered. She remembered yelling about Ben, screaming obscene words, but ... most of all she remembered her climax.
She got off the couch and staggered uncertainly toward the bathroom, her head throbbing so viciously that she thought it would break into a thousand jagged pieces. The climax, the climax, kept running through her hungover mind. Somehow she felt completely different than ever before, more different, even than when she had lost her virginity to Ben when they were in high school.
Now it was as if she were really a woman. Somehow her physical state was more relaxed, more at ease in nudity, she thought as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Orgasm had made her a different person ... even if she had been unfaithful, at least she could remember her climax.
In a few minutes she was soaking in the hot bathtub, but it didn't seem to help. She relaxed in wonderment at the memory of her sensational orgasm, but at the same time could not forget that it had been Jamie Barth who had forced that orgasm, to come from the hidden depths of her body, and not her husband who had released her unfulfilled desires. She knew she could never tell Ben what happened but maybe she would be more receptive as a bed partner for him. Maybe it was her fault that she never enjoyed sex with him. After all, she had read in a lot of magazines that a woman's inability to climax was as much her own fault as it was a man's.
She thought of Jamie's massive penis as it had looked to her in the semi-darkness of her living room, and then suddenly remembered the tailpipe. He hadn't told her where it was! Margie sat up in the tub for a moment and shook her head from side to side trying to clear the cobwebs. Oh, God, she rationalized to herself. He promised and I know he'll keep his promise. Tomorrow he'll call and tell me where it is. I just know he will.
Reassured by her own poor naive rationalization, Margie soaped the rag and started to wash her ravaged body when she suddenly heard heavy footsteps outside the bathroom door.
Jamie! She thought, afraid that she was right, but at that moment the door opened and Ben walked through it.
"Hi, baby," he said, his eyes red and framed by dark half-circles.
"Ben! God you scared me. I thought you were a burglar or something."
Ben smiled a weary smile and said simply that he was going to bed.
She smiled as he closed the door and asked herself, why so early? It's only about ten o'clock. Then it hit her.
Ten o'clock Saturday night, their only time for intercourse during the week. So that's why he came home. God, what awful timing, she thought as she winced at the soreness in her aching vagina. Less than an hour ago Jamie had left her exhausted and unconscious on the couch and now her husband had come home early for his weekly piece of her body.
Quickly she rinsed the soap from her armpits and stood up, trying to soothe the sore flesh of her vaginal lips. If she and Ben were going to make love, then she had to be ready, and now, now she knew what an orgasm was and it would be better for both of them. She stepped quickly from the tub and dried herself, powdering her soft, down covered loins and shaking the ugly thoughts of Jamie's naked body from her mind.
When she opened the bedroom door she could see that Ben was lying with only a sheet on his body. Of course, he was waiting for her, she thought, and walked across the room to turn off the light. But before she reached the lamp he threw back the sheet and exposed his limp penis to her.
"Leave the light on," he told her, as he had told her for the last seven years.
"Don't be silly, Ben," she said blushing and pulled the tiny chain. The room went instantly dark and the color left her face. Sometimes Ben can be so crude, she thought as she removed her robe and climbed into his bed beside him. If only he had some modesty.
But Ben didn't care about modesty. Since they had been married he had only seen his wife nude a few times, and that was either when she was taking a bath, covered by bubbles, or simply by accident. He knew from touch that she possessed a magnificent body, but she refused to let him see her nude, and now he no longer cared that much. He would make love to her like he always did and go to sleep. If she wanted to be a fucking prude, then she could stay a fucking prude, he thought bitterly. He would just get his weekly sexual release then let her put her nightgown on like she always did so that he wouldn't see her in the morning. She could spend the night in her own bed after they finished.
Margie felt like a new woman when she got into Ben's bed, and she laid quietly on her back waiting for him to make the first move. Now she would show him what sex really was.
But Ben didn't care, and he rolled over like he always did, quickly and roughly inserting a finger into her vagina to loosen it up for his thick erect penis. He knew that she was always so unresponsive that she never even excited him enough to get a full erection. Eagerly Margie felt the finger enter her vagina and waited with anticipation for the juices to flow like they had for Jamie, but nothing happened. Ben's finger was harsh and rough and it pulled at her with no thought that he might be hurting her. He wasn't like Jamie, gentle and soothing at first....
Jamie, she thought, and pictured his massive cock driving in and out of her eager tortured cunt. Oh My God, get out of my mind and leave me alone! But she knew it was no use. She hated Jamie and never wanted to see him again, but Ben's harsh finger, then his rough entry and heavy breathing had turned her off agiin. To her it was all Ben's fault, though to Ben, she was to blame for their lifeless sexual encounters.
After Ben had finished she climbed out of his bed, put on her nightgown, and got into her own bed. He had failed to satisfy her again, and this time she had been ready. It had to be his fault. What kind of man is he? she thought. After all I went through for him today, he's still as bland as always.
Margie Carney finally fell asleep an hour later with her index finger inserted between the damp hungry lips of her unsatisfied vagina, crying for herself and for her empty marriage that she knew tonight had been changed for all time to come.