into the thick pile of the carpet until they were raw and red.
Finally it was over, and with a great sigh of relief, Art released her. Susan sank back onto the carpet, shaking with the effort of her labors and with her own hotly inciting but still unrelieved desire. She huddled in a heap on the floor, numb, aware only of the agonizing ache between her quivering thighs and the fire that raged unquenched through every part of her being. Suddenly she became aware that she was being watched, and looking up, she saw Art, still towering over her, grinning down at her knowingly. Feeling herself flush with embarrassment, she hastily averted her eyes.
'Don't worry, slut, your hot little pussy'll get filled up soon enough,' he mocked her.
'Hey, anybody home?' The now familiar sound of Tanya's voice echoed cheerily, followed by the sound of the back door slamming.
'Well, well, well,' Art said delightedly, looking past her into the kitchen, 'looks like we've got company.'
Startled, Susan turned to follow his gaze. Tanya had indeed returned, but she wasn't alone!
CHAPTER SIX
Susan struggled dazedly to her feet as Tanya and the male newcomer entered the hallway. The thoroughly debased housewife made no attempt now to cover her nakedness, for she had been subjected to so much humiliation in the last few hours that it seemed futile to make a gesture of modesty in the face of so much shameful perversion. Yet a frosty shiver of degradation wafted like a winter wind through her vulnerable young frame as the strange man drew near.
He was tall, in his mid-thirties, with an extremely powerful well-built body. He was dressed in a faded blue denim shirt that was open nearly to the navel revealing a dark curling mat of chest hair. He wore extremely tight black denim trousers that clung like a second skin to his muscular hips and legs, flaring slightly at the bottom around the blackjack boots he wore. The stranger's face was rough and craggy, plainly of working-class character, with a strong, chiseled nose, cruelly sensual lips, and coal black eyes that seemed to pierce right into the trembling young housewife's soul. His black hair was thick and coarse, curling around his ears and collar in an unkempt fashion. Susan guessed he was Italian or Greek in origin.
'Holy shit!' Art exclaimed, making his way to the newcomer, 'Sal! Where the hell did you come from?'
'Tanya found me, in the liquor store,' he replied in a heavy masculine voice, never once taking his eyes off Susan's white gleaming body.
'It was incredible, Art,' Tanya chattered as she unloaded a bag full of liquor bottles. 'I just walk into this place in the shopping center and there's old Sal, big as life. I damn near peed in my pants when I saw him. I let out such a yelp the guy behind the counter must have thought I was completely nuts. Anyways I invited him over, figured one more wouldn't hurt. Was it okay?'
'Okay?' Art answered, 'It's more than okay, it's great! By the way Sal, this here's Susie. She's lettin' us stay here 'til her husband comes back. Nice piece of ass, huh?'
Sal eyed the young wife steadily, then broke into a wide grin.
'Art, you old bastard, you're still the same. I thought they had you locked up somewhere in Georgia and away from the action…'
'Nobody locked me up nowhere,' Art replied, his voice taking on a sharp tone. He glanced furtively at Susan for a moment, then back to his friend. 'Understand?'
Sal nodded slowly.
'I dig the scene, man,' he said. 'So stay cool, Art. You can trust old Sal.'
The young wife had great difficulty understanding them when they spoke, as they seemed to have a code-like language that eluded her. She felt sure that Sal's brief reference to Art's being 'locked up' must have meant a prison or, and she shook slightly as she thought of this, a mental hospital. There was no question in her mind that her young tormentor was unbalanced, and the idea that he might indeed be an escaped mental patient tore through her brain like a bolt of lightning. Yet she was careful not to betray her thoughts to any of them. If there was one thing she was learning, and learning fast, it was that Art, Sal, and even Tanya, meant business, and her best chances of survival lay in total submission to their demands.
'Tanya, get some drinks together while me and Sal bullshit together. We ain't had a good long talk in some time.'
'Sure sweeties,' the voluptuous blonde said as she sailed into the kitchen. 'What are you drinkin'?'
'What's the order, Sal?' Art asked.
'Scotch, man, always Scotch.'
'Oh yeah, I forgot that's what you like. No ice, no soda, no nothin', right?'
'Right, straight booze.'
'Scotch all around, baby,' Art called to his girlfriend.
'Should… should I help her?' Susan asked meekly.
'No,' her young captor replied with a slit-eyed smile. 'Tanya'll take care of it real good. You come with us. Sal, you wouldn't believe it, but this little cunt can suck a cock with the best of 'em. She's a real good mascot to have around.'
'Yeah, I can see that,' he replied. Staring hungrily at Susan, the powerfully built man reached down and stroked the huge mound his ample genitals made in the crotch of his skintight jeans. The young housewife couldn't keep herself from glancing down as he did this, and she realized with a shock that he wore no underwear, for his semi-erect cock pressed against the thin material of his jeans like a thick piece of rubber hose, clearly outlined.
Suddenly Art pushed Susan roughly and indicated for her to go into the living room ahead of them. The naked young man and his swarthy friend sauntered in behind her, and immediately Art sprawled on a big easy chair.
'Stretch out on the couch, Sal, and relax. We can have a real nice party this afternoon, 'cause this bitch's husband don't come back 'til at least tomorrow.'
Sal stretched out on the couch, boots and all, soiling the light-colored upholstery immediately. Susan, who stood awkwardly in the center of the room, winced as she watched the muscular stranger grinding oily stains into the material. Both men noticed her reaction.
'The little princess don't like it when her house gets messed up,' Art snarled. 'Look at all this crap around here. Seems to me it could use some redecoratin', don't you think, Sal?'
'No doubt about it,' Sal chuckled. 'No doubt at all.'
Sneering at Susan, Art casually picked up a delicate antique figurine of a shepherdess and threw it hard against the wall where it promptly shattered into a million pieces. It was all the ravaged young wife could do to keep herself from crying out in protest and anger.
'Look how uptight she gets when somethin' gets busted,' the younger man taunted. 'What's the matter, cunt? Don't like it when bums like me get your pretty house dirty? Well there ain't nothin' you can do about it, so keep smilin'. Trouble with you is you ain't got nothin' else to think about. So, come on over here and suck on my cock again while I'm talkin' to my old pal. It makes me feel real good when you do it.'
Susan stood as if paralyzed. Surely he wouldn't treat her like this in front of a total stranger! Didn't he have one ounce of decency in his entire body?
'I said come over here, cunt, and do what I tell you. Suck on my prick. Then maybe Sal'll let you work on him for awhile, too. His cock's even bigger than mine. Ain't it Sal? Show it to her!'
Sal laughed crudely and promptly stood up, unbuttoned and unzipped the front of his tight pants, and yanked them down over his muscular hips. Susan gulped anxiously and realized that her suspicion that he wore no underwear was completely true, for at once Sal's obscenely pulsing cock and balls were totally revealed to her shocked gaze.
'Look at the chick,' Art said, laughing, 'she can't believe how big they are, man. I bet her mouth's just droolin'. Well, me first, cunt. Come on over and suck on me for awhile. And take them pants off, Sal,' he said as his friend began to pull his jeans up. 'We're all gonna stay naked today, so we don't have to waste time dressin' and undressin'.'
'Fine idea, man,' Sal said happily, as he began to take his pants down again.
