Heather Brown - Kidnapped housewife

And so did Bobby's suggestion minutes later when we were all lying on the bed catching our breath. "Go see Dad," he said. "We want you back home."

Basking in the afterglow of perfect sex, I experienced none of the tension that would have led me to refuse under less extraordinary circumstances. I was so high on love that I really believed that all I had to do was walk into Tom's bedroom and all the problems that had haunted our years of marriage would be gone, just like that.

So I told the kids, yes, I would do it. I'd try and patch things up with their dad.

Tiptoeing down the hall, I imagined how I would slip naked into bed with him. Play with his cock and make it hard.

Slip it into my cunt and fuck him. Wiggle my ass and really suck the cum from his balls.

Halfway to the room I realized that my thighs were freshly wet. Looking down I saw that my twat was soaking anew.

I was horny all over again. And, incredibly, from the prospect of making it with my own husband.

If just thinking about it could make me this hot, what would happen when Tom and I finally fucked? Needless to say, I was banking on that long-sought orgasm from my husband.

The bedroom was so dark that I couldn't actually see the bed. However, from having slept here for so long, I knew right where it was. Wasting no time, I made my way to its side and then slipped under the covers. By this time I was so turned on my pussy was boiling.

Feeling around for the masculine body I craved, my fingers found the special warmth of cock and balls on the first try. What's more, the cock was as hard as a rock and the balls were churning.

At first I couldn't believe my luck. I could fuck without waiting.

But then, upon further exploration, I realized that things were not so simple. Instead of achieving immediate gratification, I'd have to go to the end of the line. I was not alone in bed with Tom!

Jumping backward from the bed like I had just received a severe electrical shock, I crashed into a bedside table and knocked its contents on top of me. When the heavy thing gouging into my tits turned out to be a lamp, I turned it on.

Holding the light in front of me, I got up and walked toward the bed. Without its shade, the lamp cast a yellow bubble over the activity there. I could see every disgusting detail.

It wasn't even Tom I'd been lying next to. It was Roy Parker. Sometime when I'd been making love to the kids, he'd come here from the motel fire. He probably thought I was ashes.

Oh, my husband was present all right. He was the guy sucking Roy's cock. Undoubtedly he was doing so with the knowledge of my reported incineration.

I couldn't believe it. My husband and my lover were having a homosexual affair. Even in my loathing, I couldn't help but marvel at how the lieutenant got around.

It even occurred to me that Tom might have been responsible for Parker trying to destroy me rather than the syndicate. It was increasingly clear that anything was possible.

Tom looked up first and blurted my name. It was clear from the bewildered expression on his face that he regarded me as a ghost. Maybe he really had paid to have me murdered.

In disgust. I replied, "You lousy fag! All those years I let you fuck me and you were really interested in sucking cocks. What a joke on both of us I never came, and you wished you were somewhere else."

But, even though my voice was hard, inside I felt like a fool. How could I have been so naive as to think Tom could ever make me come?

It occurred to me that even if Parker hadn't been there, I still would have been thwarted. The fact that my husband turned out to be queer was just a crunching metaphor for the frustrating reality of the world, as closed to the cloud nine illusion. I'd been idealistically nurturing since making love to the children.

I knew now that this was the way life always worked. No matter which way you turned, sooner or later you got it in the back. What, an idiot I'd been to believe I could find real love in the midst of such chronic treachery.

I even started to wonder if the kids were in on it.

If they sent me into their father's bedroom as a humiliating practical joke, knowing in advance what I'd find there.

"I've got to get out of this hell!" I suddenly shrieked, hysterical with anxiety. The familiar walls of the bedroom I'd been able to negotiate in total darkness turned hostile and started to close in on me.

"Don't move!" Parker contradicted me. He'd pulled his gun from under the pillow and was pointing it at me.

The minute the light flashed from the muzzle, I instinctively threw the lamp to the floor. In the darkness, the shot, that rang out whizzed wildly over my head. I had no alternative but to turn and run.

The chase was on again.

Racing down the hall, I could hear the children buzzing in their room. It was impossible to tell whether they knew what was going on, and I hadn't the time to investigate any dark suspicions I might have.

There was another wild shot and I was scrambling down the stairs. Sprinting across the living room, I thrust open the door and sprang from the dreaded house.

Just when I got to the Camaro there was trouble. A shot more accurate than the others. Parker had spotted me going to my car from an upstairs window and fired. I hadn't been hit, but the right rear tire of the Camaro was mortally wounded.

Then there were more shots. Again I was unscathed, but the Camaro had just been rendered into a useless hunk of metal. Three tires were flat and the gas-tank was leaking all over the driveway the front windshield was shattered.

So I had to keep running. Literally running. Fleeing on foot from the nightmare of my middle-class existence. I couldn't go back; I couldn't look back.

My life from now on would be devoted strictly to survival. I'd live by my wits forgetting about yesterday, and not being sure if tomorrow would ever come.

With this kind of attitude, it wasn't difficult for me to muscle my way into a battered pick-up truck that was waiting for the light to change on the street I happened to be running down. It didn't even occur to me that I was nude when I forced my way inside the cab – all I knew was that I needed transportation to get out of the suburbs.

As I jumped into the truck, the first thing that greeted me was the bark of a dog who was pissed off I'd shoved him out of his place. "You a sleepwalker, lady?" the driver drawled unperturbedly from the other side of the large animal.

Realizing for the first time I was naked, I replied somewhat defensively, "Why do you ask?"

"You don't often see a woman runnin' around naked in the middle of the night," he laughed, just before he spit a big wad of tobacco out the window.

I'd gotten a better look at him now and could see that he was unshaven and grubby, dressed in cast offs. He seemed to be a vagrant on wheels.

"The only other thing I can think of," he resumed talking with a big glob of black spittle running down his scroungy chin, "is that you're horny. Out lookin' for sex."

Now I could see that he had several teeth missing, even some in front. The insinuating words that came out of the ugly mouth seemed the filthiest items imaginable. However, as I told myself when I was ready to puke, beggars can't be choosers.

"Well, since you're so smart," I suppressed a gag and teased, "what are you doing cruising around in this old rattletrap at this time of night?"

"Maybe I'm lookin' for a horny woman walkin' the streets," he replied, just before spurting off another missile of tobacco juice out the window.

"That's funny," I said, looking at the lax crotch of his threadbare pants, "you don't seem ready for any action."

"No, but he is," the man cackled, a grimy hand leaving the wheel to point between the dog's haunches.