Robert Moore - Hard guys and hostages

At the same time her hips were beginning to move. They struck their own rhythm, driving her belly against his, and pulling away and driving up again. The pleasure in his cock mounted swiftly, and he felt his body slick over with sweat. His hands slipped under her body and he embraced her, held her close to him with some of the fire she was showing. He felt the desire grow in him even as her pleasure fed it. His hips were matching her rhythm now, driving into her quickly and receding, to drive in again. The pleasure was more and more intense, and he realized that she had been crying out for some time, her voice escaping in little yips of pleasure. His own sensations had been too strong, too intense, and he had been out of things for a moment. The yelps of joy egged him on, made the drive in him all the stronger, and he jogged and rammed her, driving into her and pulling back and jamming in again, and then she was really yelling, almost screaming with pleasure, and the thought skittered across Max's mind: her husband can hear her now. That thought excited him even more, and he wrung fresh cries from her even as his own grunts joined her in a duct of pleasure that could be heard from the living room by a deaf man. It gave Max a sense of satisfaction to think of Bradford in there, bound and gagged, with every muscle and joint in his body screaming at him with agony, listening to his wife share an orgasm with another man.

Then the climax hit, and it hit them both at the same time. It was great. They stiffened and clutched at each other in the throes of a pleasure too great to be contained, they called out together again, and then the lights went off in Max's head, and he felt his brain burn with the pleasure of their bodies, and then it was over.

He sat up and then stood. He shoved his pants and shorts the rest of the way down and let them drop to the floor, then noticed that his shirt had become a tattered mess. Julie had torn it apart while she was hitting her peak. He grinned down at her and pulled the pieces away.

"Your hubby must have some extra shirts around the place," he said. "Why don't you run and get me one? And some clean pants and underwear, too. The stuff here is pretty raunchy now."

"All right." She rose, then stopped. "My husband's clothes are all in the other bedroom. Pete and Connie are in there."

Max cocked his head in a mock imitation of a dog. "I don't hear them doing any moaning or thrashing around, baby. I guess they're through with what they were doing. So why don't you just go on in and get me some clothes, huh? You can knock before you go in."

"Yes, sir." She went into the hall and turned toward the bedroom. Max sat on the edge of the bed and took a pack of cigarettes that rested on the bedside table. He pulled one out and lit it, then blew a billow of smoke at the ceiling.

So the little gal was a real chickenshit. That was handy. All he had to do was play on that, and she wouldn't be any trouble. Not that he had any intentions of relaxing his vigil on her or any of the others. But it was comforting to know that she was that gutless. She was a regular little Judas goat. He could use her against the others. She'd carry tales about their plans and she'd tell them whatever he wanted them to believe. All he had to do was keep her convinced that her life and the lives of her husband and daughter would be spared. That was bullshit. Even if he believed her about keeping her mouth shut after they had left, which he didn't, he knew that her hubby could be trusted to do only one thing. He could be trusted to do whatever he could to get Max and Pete caught. So he would have to die, and it would be just plain good sense to kill his wife, too. As for the baby, well, that was tough. She'd probably just lie here and starve before anyone came along. He sure didn't plan to take her along, and he wasn't stupid enough to stop somewhere and make a call to somebody about her. She'd just have to take her chances. Maybe someone would come along and find her there. And maybe not. It was a matter of complete indifference to Max.

Julie had to rap on the door twice before she got an answer. Finally, Pete called, "Yeah?" He sounded wary.

"May I come in?" Julie called through the door. It sounded stupid in her own ears, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. Then she added, "Max wants me to get him something."

"All right, come on." He still sounded a bit wary. Julie opened the door and walked into the bedroom. Pete wasn't in the bed, as she had expected, though Connie was there. She had the covers pulled up to her chin, as though she were embarrassed at being caught in the bedroom with a man. Pete was standing in the corner farthest from the bed, and he had his shotgun in his hands, trained at the door.

"Did you think I was going to attack you with my bare hands?" Julie asked.

"Get whatever you came in for," Pete ordered. "And never mind the shit."

Julie walked to the closet and took out a pair of Jim's slacks and a sport shirt she had bought for him last Christmas. It was a particularly beautiful shirt, and he hadn't worn it more than three times. She took a pair of shoes, too, brown and white saddle oxfords, and then walked to the dresser and took out some socks and underwear. She held the socks against the shirt to make sure they were a good match.

"Hurry up," Pete said with annoyance. Julie shoved the dresser drawer closed and headed for the door. "Just a minute," Pete said. Julie turned back to him, "You and Max been fucking?"

"I…"

"Goddamn him," Pete said. "I thought we had it all settled who belongs to who."

"He didn't think you'd mind," Julie said softly. "Since you were in here with Connie."

"I'll talk to him later," Pete said. "Go on, get out of here."

Later they buried Butch. Max insisted that Sally and Connie do it. He made them drag the big hulk outside and down the stoop, and then pull it around to the back of the barn, where the grave wouldn't be visible to someone who happened to drive into the yard. It was dark, of course, and they stumbled several times getting there. Max didn't offer any help, and he wouldn't let Julie help either. When they were there, he took them around to the inside of the barn and had them get some shovels. Digging the grave was slow work for the two women, and they slowed down even more as they went along. They complained that their hands were sore. Max said that was too bad, and keep digging. Pete was in the house with Jim, seeing that he didn't get loose. Max had gotten a promise from Pete that he wouldn't kill Jim unless Jim got free. Still, Julie was anxious. She would have preferred being inside with them to being out here. But Max had insisted.

"You may not have had anything to do with this," he said. "But it'll do you good to see the end of it anyway. I don't want you getting smartass later on." Watching her sister and her sister's friend bury the man they had killed would be good for her, he believed. Julie had to admit that it was a grisly experience. But not as grisly as it had been seeing him lie there on the kitchen floor all the time.

It was after midnight when they finally got him into the grave, and then they had to cover him up. Max sat against the back of the barn with Julie next to him, stroking one of her thighs idly, while the other two women worked doggedly, shoveling heaps of dirt back into the deep grave. They seemed to be in a hurry until they had enough dirt inside to cover the body. Then they slowed.

When they patted the last shovelful on top of the grave, Max stood. Julie came up beside him. "All right," he said. "Let's put our tools away, girls. Then you can go inside and cook us something. As soon as you get cleaned up."

When the shovels were both hung back in place, the damp smell of the earth still clinging to them, Max herded the girls back to the house, the rifle held at a lazy ready position. A car went by on the road, and the women all looked at it longingly, thinking of the people who were inside, going from somewhere to somewhere else, with nothing more to worry about than getting there on time. Max laughed.