Allan Chase - The straying wife

"Hank, my God! Pleeeeaaaasssseee!"

Alcohol drifted like smoke over his brain, and his temples pounded with the brutal lust he felt heatedly boding through his body and hammering in his groin. It was a good whore he had here on the bed and the night was his. Shit, they didn't even know his name in this cathouse. He could do as he pleased. Someday, he would confess to Kim that he had gone to a whorehouse this night, and that he had fucked a prostitute with wild flame hair who looked just like her. Yes! That was it, this bitch here looked just like his wife – his cold, frigid wife with about as much sex drive as a capon chicken!

Somehow that thought was too much for Hank. Here was a common whore who looked just like Kim and he could do all the things to her he never dared do with his wife… and, best of all, he could pretend this slut was Kim! The thought was delightfully dirty to him and he gave a harsh laugh. After all, he was paying her well, and he would never see her again, and he was just drunk enough to do a couple of interesting things he'd always wanted to try.

He let go of his wife and lurched backward, losing his balance and staggering back like a punch drunk fighter as he ripped his shirt off, heedless of the buttons popping on the floor like broken teeth.

Kim spun on the bed to face him, kneeling with arms crossed over her nakedly full breasts, her long red hair hanging down like dark rich tongues of flame licking at her shoulders and breasts. Her hair framed her face in loose natural ringlets which gave her face the bawdy careless look of a teasing whore. Her arms crossed over her breasts only drew attention to their fleshy fullness as they swelled firmly to become tantalizing warm orbs ballooning upward. "My God! Hank, do you understand me? Kim! I'm Kim! Do you understand? Talk to me!"

She shrank back from him, really afraid now, her neck hurting while her eyes darted about, looking for an escape. She must get through to him or get away. He was berserk, wild, not the same man she married!

He tossed his shirt away, breathing loudly through his nose and feeling his body covered with a hot sexual sweat. He grinned at his wife as he staggered around taking his pants off. Good! He liked these whores a little afraid; he liked to see one cowering in fright before him, her thighs tightly clenched together, her sparse red pubic hair wedged tight at the "V" of her groin, her breasts all bunched up like white straining balloons as she tried to hide them. He laughed aloud as he saw the halos of her nipples peeking like pale pink half-moons over the edge of her protecting arms.

"Hank, you have to hear me! If you don't stop, I'm going to call for help!"

He paused, blinking, his thumbs hooked in his shorts. What the hell was this slut saying, what was she getting at? This was his party, he had paid for it. Wasn't he leaving for South America in the morning? He sure was, and no one, nobody, not one soul in this whorehouse would ever see him again. He grinned, bleary-eyed and unfocused, at Kim nakedly crouched on the bed in front of him. "Tonight's my night to howl," he said, his words slurred.

"Hank, you don't know what you're saying."

"Sure do. 'Sall fixed with the madam. Don't you… you worry."

"You've had too much to drink, now come to bed."

He saw Kim brush her hair back behind one creamy shoulder and saw her ripely full breasts jiggle enticingly as she leaned back and pulled the covers down, her long slender legs straightening out as she started to lie down. She smiled tolerantly and sweetly, and she urged him to bed. "Come, darling, you need some sleep."

She misunderstood his grin, thinking she had finally gotten through to him and that he understood her. The young wife had no way of knowing that all Hank saw was a wildly sensual looking chippie inviting him to bed. He yanked his underwear down, having some difficulty pulling it over his huge, throbbingly erect penis.

Kim suddenly was frightened as she looked at his massive hardness. She had never before, in their short marriage life, gotten such a good look at it. Always, before, she had seen it while he was changing clothes or coming from the shower, and then it had always been limp and hanging. She always insisted that all lights be out, that the room be in total darkness before they made love. Those nights they had grappled and groped in pitch black darkness, and she had been forced to feel his heatedly pulsating shaft with her hand; she would feel it and recoil from its size and heat and hardness. She would feel it between her legs crudely pushing and hurting, into her tightly stretched little vagina like a thick club, a coarse battering ram.

Now, her fingers flew to her mouth as she saw the full immensity of maledom throbbing so menacingly in front of her in the lamplight. Thick veins snaked along its tree-stump shaft; the lust-swollen head was bulging and a deep red where it was blood-filled. The head was spread like a cobra's head and shone in the light with its swelling thickness. It hung away from his body and swung heavily toward her, as if it were sensing her. His hairy, sperm-bloated balls hung low, and he stood in front of her a frightening specimen of masculine sexuality with layered slabs of muscles on his stomach like Roman armor, and his chest bulging hard and flat, and the veins standing out in his biceps and oak-like arms. He had told her about his working out at the Pacheco Club in Monterey and she believed him. His muscles glistened now with sex-sweat and booze. A shudder of admiration combined with fear went through her.

"Hank, NO!"

She had just time to yell before he was on her, tearing at her, seizing her wrists as she pummeled her fists against the cords of muscles on his chest. He seized her wrists and forced them wide apart, causing her full fleshy breasts to spread and rise nakedly. The terrified young wife turned her head away from the blasts of stale alcohol on his breath as he easily pulled her to him. His strength was total and terrible to Kim, for she knew she was as helpless as an infant in his grasp.

She felt the hard, hotly throbbing tip of his cock against the silken triangle at the pit of her belly and she pushed her buttocks out and away, contracting from the fearful sexual thing. Hank yanked her torso close and tightly clasped her around the shoulders, pinning her arms to her side and crushing her naked, fearfully heaving breasts against his iron-hard chest. He looked over one shoulder and saw the way she was sticking her firmly fleshed buttocks out, the way the creamy white cheeks pulled apart to reveal the depth of the crevice between them. He thought he could even glimpse her tightly puckered little anus as she struggled to pull away from him.

"Hank, I'll yell for help! I mean it!"

He seemed to relax as he looked over her shoulder and down her curving, concave back that was arching again as she struggled to hold him up and, at the same time, pull her loins away from his thick poker-like penis that seemed hot enough to burn her flesh. She thought she could still feel the seared place where it had touched her stomach. She squirmed her buttocks back further, unaware she was exciting him all the more. He looked at the smoothly rippling cheeks of her ass and thought of baby fat. Like a young teenager with that firm, sensually soft baby fat!

With a roar, the drunken engineer was over her, twisting her and sending her sprawling nakedly backwards on the bed. He fell on top of her with a crash that made little stars arc and explode in the room before her eyes as she felt the breath knocked out of her and pain, like a network of nerves, spread through her chest and stomach.

With a roar, he was on top of her and his brutal wet mouth cut off her scream and locked on hers, crushing her pulpy full lips, hurting them, bruising them, as he ground down and his hotly thick tongue exploded into her mouth. She fought to catch her breath, thinking she would gag or suffocate. She felt his full weight and the long hot hardness of his cock pulsating in her fearfully cringing belly.