Grant Roberts - The reluctant couple

Lying helpless beneath him, tears of pain and humiliation tortured Diane. She felt torn asunder by the physical force of his entry, and the mental brutality of his unnecessarily cruel attack. Worse, she was unable to comprehend whatever inconceivable logic lay behind his actions. But Roger was drunk and in no mood for explanations. He pounded his cock deep up inside her to its hilt until she was sure he was going to pulverize her very inner vitals. It was as if a white hot ram of fire was filling every pore of her stomach, and there wasn't one tiny ridge or crevice which was inviolate from his chunky weapon.

Then his hands went around and began to knead and cup the resilient flesh of her softly mounded ass, and she could feel her skin begin to bruise beneath his rough touch. Roger lay unmoving, his face directly above hers as he caressed her buttocks. She too remained motionless, afraid of the agony it would cause her if she moved with that huge weapon inside her. Silence, save for Roger's ragged breathing, hung between them. Suddenly, then, she felt a throb as his cock jerked upwards in another half-inch of virility.

"Uuuuuhhhh!" she grunted, her face twisted with pain.

"That's right, bitch!" Roger taunted. "Scream for it!" He flexed again.

"AAAAgggggg!" she gurgled, the cords of her body muscles straining. "Oh God, have mercy! Please… I can't take it!"

"You'll take it, all right!" came the hissed answer. "You'll take all I can give and like it! Hear me?"

She didn't answer, only rolled her head helplessly to one side.

"I asked you a question!" Roger snarled, thrusting savagely into her.

"OOooohhhh, yes, yes!" she cried, afraid now of offending him lest he be crueler and more brutal than he was now. "I'll like it…! I will… I will!" she choked, tears welling in her closed eyes as she spat out the lie. Her husband's obscene, lewd actions had forced her to the depths of degradation, and she doubted if she would ever be able to look at herself again with any measure of pride. He had stripped her of her self-respect on this night, and there was nothing left except his gargantuan cock buried deep, deep inside her. She knew that he had sensed her loss of the last remaining ounce of resistance, and clamping his beer-smelling mouth over hers again, he began to rock sideways with a sawing motion of his thighs. The agony within Diane increased, and it was as though her insides were being shredded into a thousand miniscule pieces. She groaned in hopeless defeat beneath him.

Roger thrust in and out with ever-increasing strokes, ignoring her tears and cries of anguish. He seemed to grow bigger and bigger, battering her cervix unmercifully. She was sore and raw and mentally scarred, and Roger felt a frenzied glory as she defensively undulated from his skewering actions. He rampaged against her buttocks, burying his cock again and again inside her decimated vagina. She was his, completely his, a slave in total submission to his every whim. He could do with her what he willed…

"My God! My God! You're… killing me! Oooohhhh!"

Roger laughed harshly, and as if in answer, stroked more rapidly, hard and fast, battering her quivering, wet pussy. He moved his hands to grasp her smooth, sweat-slick ass-cheeks and pull them closer to his thighs, trying to blend them with his own, his vicious thrusts filling the kitchen with lewd, resounding smacking noises. His breathing came in short, gasping puffs, and his body dripped steaming sweat. He felt a complete loss of all control…

"I'm going to cum!" he shouted wildly. "My God, I'm going to cuuuuummmm!" He groaned as he thrust his cock's full expansion deep inside her wide-stretched vagina, his mouth dropping open and his clutching fingers commencing to jerk spasmodically in an attempt to open her for even one more fraction of an inch of his cock.

"Fuck back! Fuck back! Fuck back!" he blurted. But then the first stream of hot, white sperm began to gush up the tunnel of his cock and surge into the well of her vagina. It burst with the force of a tidal wave, burning into Diane's belly like liquid fire. She could feel the filling, drowning sensation as his flow continued to pulse maddeningly and his cum leaked down the crevice of her buttocks and pooled whitely on her uselessly torn clothing…

And then he collapsed, his demon cock deflating with sudden and complete satiation. Roger fell exhausted across Diane, one arm splayed wide. She stared at his spent body covering her, wondering in utter disbelief how this man, her husband, could have exercised such sick, perversions upon her. Now, in the wake of his played-out passions, shame and revulsion inundated her, and she let tears openly fall from her glazed eyes.

"Why?" she moaned inaudibly. "Why… why did you do this, Roger? Oh, God, why?"

"You'd never understand," he breathed huskily against her bosom. "What did you ever know about… a man's feelings? You're the one who forced me to this. And do you know why? Because I'm sick of pleading and coddling you to get what I'm entitled to… a plain, cooperative piece of ass! I married a statue, not a woman!"

"Don't talk to me like that, you… you filthy beast!"

"Filthy beast, am I!" He raised up beside her, his face contorted with rage. Diane could see down between his legs and… his cock had jumped to life again! But that was impossible! How could he have an erection after… She stifled a cry as he pushed his again erect penis into her aching cunt once more. His hot, rejuvenated staff began to hammer her dry and throbbing passage. He made a mirthless, gasping chuckle which mingled with her sobs, and then lost itself in a continuous, inhuman grunting of renewed lust…

Roger awoke slowly Saturday morning, as if he were gaining awareness by degrees. His temples throbbed agonizingly, and there was a chalky, almost lacquered taste in his mouth. He groaned slightly, raising one hand to shield his tightly closed eyes against the bright, grayish light of dawn which burned against the lids. He rolled onto his side, facing away from the window, and his hand reached out instinctively to search for the warm, pliant body of his wife. It touched only cool, empty sheet.

His eyes fluttered open then, and a nauseous feeling centered in his stomach. Diane? he thought dimly. Diane, where…?

Suddenly, last night came rushing back to him with crystal clarity. He groaned miserably, rolling onto his back again. The sheet slid away from his naked body to expose the satiated limpness of his cock. He lay there, reliving the scene with Marcus Cord in the Pig and Whistle, his subsequent beer-and-lust provoked handling of his genitals during the drive home, his insane bursting into the kitchen with his cock gripped in his hand, his wanton, perverse lust rape of his wife on the kitchen floor…

Oh Christ, I completely lost my head! he thought with personal loathing. I must have gone berserk to have… have done those things last night! I must be sick… Nobody acts that way, not even when he's denied the love and the gratification he has every right to expect in his marriage. He doesn't turn into a ravaging savage, a primitive Neanderthal. He doesn't force his wife to suck his cock in a pile of broken dishes and scattered silverware, and then go down on her like some demented beast, and then rape her body like a two bit whore…

Roger groaned again and sat up in bed. Fire raged in his temples, and caused red-tinged agony to explode in back of his eyes. How many times had he fucked her, lying there on the kitchen floor? How many times had he ripped into her sweat-slick body, flooding that soft, tight cunt of hers with a reservoir of hot, sticky cum? He couldn't remember, didn't want to remember… But it was all there, vivid, in his mind. And there, too, was the recollection of the feeling of helpless guilt and shame which had finally engulfed him, and the whiningly soft apologies he had begun to whisper into her ears as he gently moved above her. Forgive me, darling, forgive me! he had cried to her, endeavoring to elicit the faintest response of absolution from her. But it had been useless; she had only lain unmoving beneath him, her eyes squeezed shut in horror and degradation, mewling with pain and fear until he had pulled out of her. And when he had lifted her tenderly in his arms and carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed, she had only remained as rigid as a block of beautifully crafted marble. Spent, still a little drunk, he had fallen asleep then with his arm protectively cast across her smooth, sperm-sticky stomach…