'I… I like it Art… I like your… your cock…'
'You like the way it worms around your cunt?' There was a strange gleam in the young man's eyes, a dangerous kind of desperation that made the young wife grow shivery and nervous. 'Man, it gets so big and stiff, don't it, like a pipe, an iron pipe. Huh? Don't you think so?'
'Yes… yes Art I do…'
'What's it feel like inside you? I want to know… what's it like?'
'I… I really can't describe it, Art…'
'Sure you can… I got to know… I got to hear it… and you're gonna tell me… you got to… understand?' He reached down beside the chair where his boots stood and pulled out the switchblade, flicking it open sharply and making Susan jump anxiously on the sofa. 'Come on now, tell me what it feels like…'
The young wife swallowed hard and realized fully once again that the young stranger before her was completely unbalanced. She had heard about crazy people before, but only in the movies and on television. She had never actually come face to face with someone really disturbed. But there was no question in her mind that Art was that kind of person and, if she valued her life, she had to humor him and do whatever he asked.
'It… it feels… good… it feels good inside me, Art,' she said in a low voice, icy blasts of humiliation coursing through her naked young body as she struggled to get the obscene words out. 'Sometimes… when you… you come into me… and it feels so… so big… it makes me feel like I'm… like I'm in the ocean… or part of the ocean… like the waves… just floating…'
'Ah, crap on that,' he snorted, waving the knife menacingly, the polished blade glinting in the sunlight from the curtained windows. 'Don't it make you feel dirty? Real dirty and mean? Like a slut or something?'
'Well… yes… sometimes…'
'Tell me… tell me how it makes you feel…'
'Like a… a slut… like a prostitute…'
'And you like it?'
'I… I…' She couldn't answer him. How could she admit that she enjoyed such shameful activities.
'I asked you if you liked it, bitch.'
'Art… oh… God… yes… yes, I like it. Yes.'
'Fine, that's just fine…' His cock, which up until that time had been in a state of semi-erection, began to stiffen into its thickly rigid fullness as they talked, and Susan realized that he had been making her speak so lewdly precisely to excite him. 'You know what I like, Susie? I like chicks to suck me off. You like to suck cock?'
'I've… never…' The young wife's heart was beating like a jungle drum in her chest, and her breath came faster and faster as she struggled to tell the young drifter that she had never sucked on anyone's penis before, and had never even thought of doing such a thing. Surely he wouldn't ask her to… to do that to him! Hadn't she been degraded enough?
'Never sucked on a prick, huh? Well, it's real nice, I'm told, real nice. Looks like this is gonna be your first time.'
He stood up arrogantly, his hugely distended column swaying up and down as it jutted out from his groin in eager erection. Susan knew at once that he was going to force her to take his thick penis in her mouth, and the idea made her mind reel in agonized disbelief, while her vulnerable young body pressed back into the soft upholstery of the sofa almost as if trying to disappear. Art began to move slowly toward her like a sly tomcat approaching a frightened, pinioned little bird, his tongue flicking out and running over his lips in hungry anticipation.
'Art… please… Don't make me do this…'
But the young tormentor's only reply was to laugh darkly, mockingly, at the terrified young bride. Finally he stood in front of her, his legs wide apart, his massively swollen cock pointing out at her from his loins like some obscene accusation, his bloated testicles tightening like prunes in lusty expectation.
'Pucker up, baby,' he snarled, 'cause my prick's gonna jam down your throat whether you like it or not.'
'No… no please!' she cried out anxiously. But Art couldn't have cared less how much she pleaded for mercy or sympathy. She was going to suck his cock good, and she was going to do it right now. Roughly he reached out, grabbed her arm, and yanked her off the sofa, forcing her to kneel before him like an abject servant. She tried to twist her face away so she wouldn't have to stare at the lurid sight of his hotly throbbing cock and balls so close to her face, but he pulled her hair roughly with his hand and forced her to turn back.
'Oooooh,' she moaned, 'You're hurting me.'
'That's nothing to what I'll do to you if you don't wrap your mouth around my cock real fast, understand?'
Suddenly the phone rang, and the jangling bell startled both of them. Art released his grip on her hair and ran to get his knife. The phone rang again.
'Okay, baby, you're gonna answer that phone an' act as if nothin' at all is goin' on, and if you don't, you're gonna feel cold steel on your throat.' He swiftly grabbed her arm, lifted her to her feet, and walked with her to the hall where the telephone stood. 'I'm gonna be right here beside you, and if you make one false move, that's it. You understand, bitch?'
Susan nodded, gulping back the tears and stifling a cry of terror.
'Now pick up the phone and we'll both listen and see who it is.'
He stood next to her, the open knife in his hand, as the anxious young wife picked up the phone, holding it slightly away from her ear so that Art could hear also.
'Hello?' she said, trying her best to conceal her fright.
'Susan? It's Tim.'
'Tim!' She wanted to cry out to him and tell him to come home at once, but she knew she couldn't. 'Where… where are you?'
'In Boston.' Her heart sank. Her one hope was that the plane strike was over and he was on the way back. 'The damn strike's still on. They're still saying it could be over anytime, but there's been no breakthrough. How're you doing back there? Not too bored, I hope?'
'No… no…'
'I can't hear you, honey, can you speak louder?'
'I'm fine, Tim… fine…'
'This delay's working out pretty well actually. I've had drinks with some of the people at Everest Mutual, and I think there might be a job opening, at twice what I'm making now.'
'Oh, that's… that's wonderful, Tim… I'm very happy…'
'Susan is there anything wrong? You sound kind of strange?'
Art placed the tip of his knife near her throat, glaring at her angrily.
'No… no I'm fine Tim… I just miss you, that's all.'
'I miss you too, honey. I can't wait to get back. But this thing could drag on forever.'
Oh no, Susan cried inwardly, please no! Oh God let the strike be over soon, please.
'I… I wish you'd come home, darling,' she said, trying to mask her fear.
'I do too, but there's nothing to be done. Listen, I've got to go now. I promised to have a drink with Hawkins from Liberty Funds and he's waiting. You have a nice weekend, okay? Take in a movie or something, and when I get back we'll go out to dinner and have a real bash. Okay?'
'Okay… please come home as soon as you can… please…'
'Sure thing, honey. Take care. I love you.'
'I love you too…'
There was a click on the other end, and Susan knew the call was over. Tim was still in Boston and might not be back for days. It was hopeless. Art took the phone receiver from the numbed young wife's hand and replaced it on the hook, smiling darkly.
'Well, baby, it looks like our romance ain't over yet!' Putting the knife on the telephone table, he suddenly pushed her down to her knees, making sure she was in no position to unexpectedly grab the knife, so that she was once more face to face with the enormous girth of his still-erect shaft of throbbing cock. 'Now, let's finish what we started.'
Susan knew she had no alternative but to do as he asked. His enormously thickened penis waved obscenely in front of her terror-stricken eyes as Art slowly pulled back the soft foreskin to reveal the pulsating ruddy head that
