moustache wiggled. He leaned in close, kissed her without warning. She could feel his hairy growth against her skin. God, it tickled! “We have the house to ourselves,” he said smugly.
“I sent Melissa on a tour of exploration. If she finds a seashell it will occupy her for hours. She’s not a very bright girl, but she’s fun.”
“She’s a cunt.”
Lou grinned. “You’ve picked up a new vocabulary since I left home. Yes, she is a cunt, a sweet, hot, tight young cunt. But she’s only a cunt. I think you’re a lot more than that, and I intend to find out. Anyway, Melissa seems to have made herself a conquest already.”
“Paul?” Caron was livid. She remembered the glazy-eyed way Paul had stared at Melissa’s sumptuous tits, but to think that he… “How dare you say that?”
“Mmm,” Lou smiled, “you are the innocent one, aren’t you?” He didn’t give her time to think about what he’d said. His hand swept down her front, caressing her tits, sliding over her smooth rounded belly and into the forest of her pussy. His fingers traced the little hedge of fur that trimmed her slice. She groaned, trying to close her legs on his hands, push him out, God, anything! A moment later she realized that her spontaneous action was only helping him, pinning his hand to her pussy. Blushing scarlet, Caron unclamped her legs, tried to hold her breath until she passed out. She sucked it in till her chest hurt and her brain went woozy from lack of air, but Lou was fondling her pussy with greater and greater involvement, his fingertip flirting with the smooth tight lips of her gash, and her lower body was starting to twitch and undulate. “Goddamn you,” she moaned, releasing her breath. Her lungs filled with air. She wasn’t going to faint. “Oh, Goddamn you!”
“Here?” he asked. “On the kitchen floor?” He looked round. “Hey, the table. Come on, Caron.” He dragged her to the table, shoved her head and tits down upon the smooth Formica top. It was cold against her bare skin. Her ass was sticking out and up. Lou lifted the hem of her dressing gown, her ripped nightie. He stood behind her, prodding her with the bulge in his pants. It had grown enormous, Caron thought, since the first time he rubbed her with it a few moments ago.
His hand stroked her buttocks, traced the deep cleft, zeroed in on her unprotected snatch. She moaned in tenor as his finger began to assault her from behind, and she started to buck and twitch. His finger slipped inside and there was a cold clamminess in her armpits, a sense of tenor just behind her eyeballs. “Please,” she sobbed, wishing the tears would flow. Just this once. Couldn’t she cry? Shame him? God, he had no shame! He’d left her, and now he’d come back, dragging along a slut barely out of diapers. But Melissa wasn’t enough for him. He wanted her, too, the woman he’d abandoned. He wanted to shame her again, more brutally than before. He was going to fuck her.
“Haven’t you been fucked on the kitchen table lately, Caron?” he asked, insidiously. “You don’t seem very comfortable. Maybe we’d better go the traditional route. So let’s try for a replay of our wedding night, hmm mm? Only this time I expect something more than a fuzzy glove wrapped around my cock. I want a cunt. A real live cunt. Your cunt, Caron. I want to feel you fucking me back, I want your legs around me like a spider web, I want to hear you mooooooaannnnnn when I sock you into paradise. ’Cause, baby, that’s what I’m gonna do!”
She didn’t have time to answer. He swept her up into his arms and went strutting through the house, carrying her. He kicked doors open as he came to them. Caron could only hang on lest she fall. She couldn’t believe he was carrying her. The old Lou had been a weakling; the OXFORD BOOK OF ENGLISH POETRY was a heavy load for him. Once. But not now. He carried Caron into the master bedroom and he threw her onto the large double bed they had once shared as man and wife. It was rumpled from her night of tossing in fitful dreams and as he towered above her, she knew achingly that it was going to get a lot more rumpled.
She huddled in one corner of the large bed, legs drawn up. Her dressing gown was gone, lost somewhere between kitchen and here. All she wore was her ripped nightie. She tried to cover herself.
“Shy?” she heard him ask. “You were pretty damned shy that first time, too. Let’s see how well you’ve gotten over it.”
He grabbed her ankle, pulled her across the bed. There was no way she could retain her dignity or decency. The torn nightie opened, stiff-nippled tits sticking out. She quivered with fear as he pulled her to him. He sat down on the edge off the bed, still holding her foot, and slid his other hand up her thigh, onto the hair-hedged mound of her twat.
“Pulsating,” he observed. “With anticipation? With dread? Or with a mixture of the two? Which is it, Caron? You have three choices, after all. Pick a winner.”
“Paul will kill you for, this,” she said through clenched teeth. “When I tell him what you did, he’ll kill you. And not, a jury in the state will convict him. They’ll set him free and they’ll give him a medal and…”
Lou raised his hand and he bit her, for the second time. Sharply, alongside the jaw. “Sometimes you talk too fucking much,” he told her. And with that he threw himself forward, onto her supine body.
His face burrowed into her cowering crotch. She screamed at the first touch of him, at the tickly wiriness of his moustache on her smooth tanned flesh, and she tried to rock him off her. But it was no go. He was a heavy burden upon her lower body and she could not move her legs. His arms pinned her hips to the bed, his face commanded her midsection, and she felt his tongue serape across the cleft of her pussy, scampering like a predator in pursuit of some fleeing prey.
He split her twat with his fingers and licked his way inside, tongue picking up speed as he raced over the slick purplish-red flesh of her vulva. He found her clit and assaulted it furiously, whipping with his tongue until her button peeked out to see what the hell was going on. Caron felt it, felt the shudder run up her body, followed immediately by the heat, oh, God, the heat! She dug her fingers into the bed sheets and she clawed, moaning, “No, no, noooooo!”
She tore, she ripped, she pawed, she panted and she whined, but still he drank at her trough. His tongue flailed round and round her stiffening clit, scurrying lower to steal into the winking mouth of her terrified hole. Sweat began to pour across Caron’s forehead. She would kill him for this. She wouldn’t wait for Paul. Paul could defend her in court. Did he think she was some kind of machine that could be turned on and off at will? Didn’t Lou know she was a human being; that he had hurt her tremendously and could never make up for that hurt? Oh, he’d pay for this! She’d see that he paid!
“Tasty cunt,” he complimented, smacking his lips. It was a vulgar gesture and she knew that he intended it to be one. His face moved a little lower down her cooze, and now it was his thick wiry moustache brushing her clitoris. Caron’s eyes threatened to pop from their sockets. It was like nothing she had ever imagined, the sensation of bristly hair slipping and sliding across her button. She husked a cry, a cry of shame, and her fingers tore through the sheet they’d been clasping so tightly. Her pussy began to lubricate, not gradually, but in a flooding river of woman juice.
It must have touched his chin, those trickling juices, because she heard him chortle and then his tongue was ramming up her hole, followed closely by two or three of his fingers. Caron screamed and tried to kick at this new violation, but she was powerless to move, as impotent as if he’d tied her down before setting about to rape her body.
Only my body, she thought, willing herself to resist with every strength left to her. He might take her body, but he couldn’t get within gunshot of her mind, let alone her heart. Oh, Lord, she thought as his tongue swirled in and out of her creaming tube. Oh, Lord God, he never did anything like this when we were married! If he had… if he had…
He whipped her clit with the end of his tongue and she knew that there was no possible way she could hold back anymore. Her body was going to come. She was powerless to prevent it. But she would fight as long as she could. She’d rob him of whatever perverted satisfaction this act might be giving him. Oh, Goddamn you, Lou Archer, she thought, Goddamn youuuuuuu…
His fingers filled her tight sucking twat. She kept herself in good shape. Paul liked a tight fit, and he hadn’t come near to wearing out her elastic pussy. She could snap it shut around him and milk his pecker with all the oozy muscles of her cunt. And right now Lou’s fingers were getting the benefit of that tip-top conditioning. He flexed them inside her, made her shake and shudder and whimper, and her pussy ate him greedily. Her pussy couldn’t tell the difference between a friend and an enemy. She knew now why a stupid person was often referred to as a “dumb cunt”. She had a dumb cunt between her own legs and she’d never known it till now.
It was too late, much too late, for Caron to send a message down to her pussy. She suffered the tortures of the damned as Lou continued to fuck her with his fingers and to lick up the hot juices that were overflowing her drippy crack. Again and again his tongue sloshed across her, and he opened her gape as widely as he could, slipping
