wedding, her wedding, and then an exquisite fuck before she even got out of her gown, and not with her husband, but with his brother-in-law while his pregnant sister got it doggy-fashion in the next room. And the wild ride up the mountain side. What a thrill to go over a hundred miles an hour. She had to try it with herself behind the wheel sometime… soon. Even the pleasant little screw, though unfulfilling after they arrived here had been good. And now he was on top of her again, his prick throbbing in her cunt, her John, her own private fucker. He was fucking her and it felt good, so very good.
Her eyes were closed and she imagined it was the cute bellboy fucking her. It didn't do any harm to fantasize while her husband fucked her; he didn't know, and it made her a more excited fuck for him. The whole idea was to stimulate him and make him come.
Her passions were aflame. Drunk as she was, she could coast like this for hours, always on the crest of a shattering orgasm. And if she slipped over the edge into the never-never land of sexual bliss, it was never quite the peak she wanted and would start the climb to the top all over again.
'John, John, John,' she moaned, almost incoherently. 'Fuck me some more, make me come again! Oh, Christ… I'm there! Do it, do it, don't stop!'
John knew she was coming and felt a sense of pride, yet he was having difficulty making it himself. He felt the contractions in her cunt when she made it.
'Goddamn, Goddamn, Goddamn… never came so many times before!' she wailed, easing into still another and stronger orgasm. 'Love cock, love fucking!'
John raised up and jerked out. He rolled her over onto her stomach. She went limp like a soggy washrag. Lust twisting his face, he spread her tender ass-cheeks apart and pushed his slimy cock against her tight asshole. He didn't know it, but he was finally getting his cherry – the only one she had left – her virgin asshole.
The pucker string was tight, but he pressed savagely until his fat cock burst inside. He grimaced with pleasure; it was so tight, so excruciatingly tight.
Eva moaned with pain, yet lifted her ass to meet his insistent pressure. A perverse pleasure accompanied the pain that cried at her tender asshole, and she knew she could come even like this.
John knew he would come, too, but he wanted his cock all the way in first and lunged into her. When he knew he was in to his balls, he started fucking, long hard strokes, and then he was coming, coming like he never had before.
Eva felt his warm jizz spurting inside her ass and raised up to deepen her impalement. She giggled into the pillow, feeling like a cherry on a skewer, even though she wasn't a cherry any more, anywhere. 'Come some more,' she moaned, 'it feels so good.' She didn't know if there was any difference between an anal orgasm and a pussy come, but thought there must be because it felt different. Good, but different. It didn't peak and then taper off. It made her feel good all over, warm and tingly. 'Don't stop now… do it some more,' she said.
But he did stop. John had drained his balls and all he felt now was disgust, good old Midwestern Puritan disgust. It felt so good while he was doing it. Why did it feel so bad after he was done?
'Sock it to me, baby,' Eva said. 'My ass wants some more.'
John thought he would get sick. He pulled out. He got to his feet and went out on the balcony. 'Don't leave me, darling. Fuck me some more,' he heard Eva say.
He sat in a big chair. She wasn't a virgin when they got married. She was one well-fucked broad. Only nineteen and probably fucked more times than he had. He still wore his shirt and fished for a cigarette, the vision of his virginal bride fading into nothingness. He lit the cigarette and imagined a man, any man, lying on top of Eva, his stiff cock thrust up inside her. She moaned and wriggled with pleasure, trying to get the man's prick deeper, and then all of a sudden he had pulled out and she was sucking it, sucking another man's cock. The man grunted and hunched against her beautiful face and came, pouring his filthy slime into her mouth. Eva moaned with desire and swallowed it.
John drug deeply on his cigarette and looked down at his crotch. He was surprised to see that he was erected. His hand wrapped around his turgid meat. God, he thought, I haven't jerked off since I was sixteen. His hand, slid slowly, lovingly up and down on his prick. He imagined Eva when she was nine years old – she was beautiful even then – she was at a dance class in tight, red leotards, her tits straining in the thin fabric. Girls of nine don't have tits, he thought. She was standing in a corner with a little boy; she had his cock out in her tiny hand and she was masturbating him. The little boy squirted his white stuff onto her red leotards at the same instant that John squirted his cum onto his hand.
He heard a noise and turned. Eva was at the bar. She's a drunk as well as a whore, he thought. He saw her drinking straight from the bottle and then she fell down. She didn't get up. He sat for a long time before he got up and went in to where she lay.
John pushed his wife over with his foot. She was so lovely, so desirable, even passed out cold, maybe even dead – he didn't really care which.
She lay motionless, totally inert, while he fucked her there on the floor. It was impossible, once a night had been his best, yet he was hard and throbbing inside her juiced-up pussy. He imagined he was someone else, maybe a stupid, worthless bellboy, and ejaculated inside her. He was in a state of shock and fucked her until he came again. This time he was a pony; no, a stallion with a huge red and purple cock that split her wide open.
Afterwards, he got to his knees and hit her in the face with his fist. When he laid her gently on the bed her nose was bleeding. He hit her again.
He went back to the balcony and sat down. The tears wouldn't stop; he cried like a baby. He decided that he was a monster. He had used his fists on a woman, his own wife, beaten her up because she liked his prick. It was natural for a woman to like a man's prick; that's what it was all about. He had taken his little virgin bride and broken her cherry and when she liked it, he hated her for it. She was much too good for him, he decided, and fell asleep.
CHAPTER SIX
When Eva awakened the next morning, John was already up and gone. She tried to roll over and cried out. The slightest movement hurt, and her mouth was dry and her head was splitting and she needed to piss. It took several minutes to get enough courage to raise herself to a standing position. She wasn't sure what all had happened to her, but her cunt felt like hamburger and walking was a royal pain – a royal pain in the ass.
After relieving herself, she went to the mirror and cried out again at what she saw. Her upper lip was crusted with dry blood and she had a black eye to end all black eyes. She washed away the blood, careful not to touch her shiner because it was badly swollen and hurt even without touching it.
Bewildered and disillusioned, she filled the huge sunken tub with hot water and let her aching body down into the soothing warmth. She was immersed, her eyes closed, when John returned to the suite.
He was standing beside the tub when she heard him. Her eyes flew open. 'John! What happened to me? Look at my eye. It hurts! I'm hurt!' she cried. 'You, uh… you got terribly drunk last night, darling. You fell and hit your face against the arm of a chair.'
She felt confused. Why hadn't he cleaned her up and taken care of her. Why was he gone when she woke up? 'And my head is splitting,' she said.
'I said you got drunk. Are you too stupid to figure out that you have a hangover?' he said curtly.
That's it. He's angry with me for getting drunk on our wedding night. He hates me. 'I'm so ashamed of myself,' she said.
John turned so he wouldn't have to look at her. He was ashamed, too, but he had started the charade of what happened and he would have to carry it through.
'Would you get me an aspirin or something?' she asked timidly.
'Of course, darling,' he said, and then looked at her coldly.
'You're sorry, aren't you?'
'Yes. I'm sorry, darling.'
'Never again,' she said softly, looking down at the water to avoid his glaring eyes.
When she emerged from the tub, John was still standing in the doorway. 'We're going horseback riding as soon as you're dressed,' he said.
