Allan Chase - The straying wife

Tears were in her eyes, dimming the scene as he forced her long slender legs apart, bruising, pinching the silky skin of her inner thighs. He forced her legs wider still until muscle cords stood out like flesh-colored cables along her inner thighs. With all her strength, she pulled her mouth free from his and sobbed, "For God's sake, Hank, stop! You're killing me!"

A stinging slap was his only answer. She never saw the blow, only felt it and felt it sponge into her face, numbing her with pain. She gasped for air and sobbed, thinking she would pass out… almost hoping for unconsciousness.

With a grunt, he shifted his weight and seized the stunned young wife's wrists again, forcing them up and back over her head, causing her naked breasts to stand out ripely jiggling before his face. His savagely voracious mouth fed on them again, tearing at them. She felt his cock, the head of it, like some mammoth wild thing at the entrance to her tightly tensed vagina, and she shut her eyes and tightly contracted her cuntal muscles in an effort to prevent penetration – prevent this brutal drunken rape of her tender femaledom.

"AAAAaaaaggghhhaaaa!!!"

The thick mighty head plowed forward, easily spreading her pulpy, softly wet vaginal lips. They parted under the sheer power of his thrust. Hank lifted his torso and looked down between their nakedly entwined bodies. His cock was poised, its sheath pulled back tight over the head that was almost a deep maroon color from the blood that throbbed in it. The lust-swollen head was almost covered by the flushing, pretty pink pussy lips that had reluctantly parted to make room for his invading cudgel. Laughing drunkenly, the engineer released her wrist and raked his fingernails across her stomach, feeling her softly defenseless flesh giving while she sobbed and tried to hit his face with her free hand. "Hank, you've gone crazy. Stop!"

He seized her wrist again with an agile, almost indifferent speed and forced it back over her head and raised his torso once more. Four wavering pink lines were raising on her belly where he had scratched her. The lines seemed to point like directional arrows toward the proud, defenselessly trembling swollen lips of her little cunt lips that were so sensuously curved and puckered, almost like a mouth. Her entire vagina was a vivid pink color as he thrust his massive cock-head against the lips and he saw them part, fold inward under the force of his entry. He saw the distended pink nib of her little clitoris proudly standing, revealed between her swelling vaginal lips, erect and sensitive in its own little oiled valley.

Again, he gave a laugh that ended in a snort. He thrust again, and the captive young wife cried out as his cock ran in like a thick tree stump disappearing into her soft, hotly quivering cunt.

Kim felt her legs spread even more painfully apart and she gave out another bird-like cry of distress as the total brutal thrust of his hard dominating cock into her helplessly stretched pussy forced her buttocks to roll under and her legs to fly up in the air. He began pumping with his hips with an ox-like strength, brutally and lewdly fucking in and out of her cunt, sawing away with his wetly glistening penis so thick and veined.

Hank's fucking was brutal and wild and his hands were all over her as he pinched and massaged her nakedly quivering breasts, leaving scratches on her stomach and bruises, deep and purple, on her shoulders and breasts. He was virtually raping her and she could do nothing to stop him. Her mind was near hysteria, but she really didn't want to scream and get outside help. She didn't want people to know her husband was like this. Trying to reason with him was like trying to reason with an ape in heat.

Each savage thrust was hurting her now, jolting her naked young body, as he pounded his massively pulsating hardness home, its head banging up against her cervix, causing her to wince with each stroke. He was mauling her body painfully, digging his finger nails into her softly fleshed buttocks and tearing her legs further apart. He was fucking her so hard that the force of his thrust was shoving her across the bed and her head was thumping against the headboard.

Kim never stopped struggling… or pleading, but her voiced protests were as futile as her squirming. Abruptly, as one of her hands flailed out, she touched something cold and metallic. It was a flashlight. It was no strange thing to have next to the bed in Carmel. During the winter, there was much rain and wind and trees would topple, bringing down power lines, and homes would be without light or electricity for hours on end. This was an inconvenience Carmelites gladly suffered, preferring to have their trees, their forest, instead of safe power lines.

Her hand closed around the heavy flashlight and she gripped it, wondering if she dare hit her husband – this drunken rapist atop her tortured body.

Hank was fucking her as hard as he could now with his arms straight down at his sides and his fingers digging into the soft white flesh of her buttocks. Savagely, obscenely, his fingers probed and slid into the sweat-slickened crevice between her ass cheeks. He was hurting her as he felt for her anus. His outstretched middle finger stabbed at the rubbery, tightly puckered anal ring, his fingernail cutting in deep, sending a sharp stinging pain searing through her nerve system. Kim's face contorted and she sobbed again. It was decided for her: she raised the heavy flashlight, gripped it tightly in her hand and held it above her head. Then, closing her eyes, she swung with all her might. She heard a "thunk", a sound like someone thumping a ripe watermelon. The flashlight bounced off Hank's head and was torn from her hand by the force of the blow. She heard the glass lens shatter as the flashlight fell on the bed and onto the floor.

Hank paused for a split-second, seeming not to move a muscle or take a breath. It was as if he had frozen and was expectantly listening for some alien sound. Then, he gave a mottled, choking cry, pulled his hands free, and feebly tried to hold his head. He pulled back from her, weaving, his eyes squeezed shut, his face and mouth twisted in a drunken grimace. Both his hands were on the top of his head as if he were trying to hold his skull on, as though he were trying to stop it from blowing up. "Goddamn it," he said thickly. He pulled away, and his still massively erect cock came out of her cunt with an obscenely wet plopping sound.

The engineer slowly slumped backwards onto the bed, breathing heavily, and groaned in wonderment and surprise. The combination of alcohol and the stunning blow to the head made him go limp as a rag… and he passed out – unconscious beside her.

Kim lay naked, her blue eyes watching her husband. Then, feeling something she couldn't quite fathom, she looked down between her fingernail-streaked breasts to her long flat belly… and at the scratches and bruises there… and at her prominent mound of Venus and the way her softly curling red pubic hair was wet and matted. Her legs were splayed ivory white in the lamplight, delicately carved yet strong and firm. Already she could see bruises that were a deep purple plum color and more scratches. Gingerly, she shifted her weight and tilted her groin to one side, feeling the cheek of one buttock. It was sore and stung from the gouges left behind from his fingernails.

Instinct told her that Hank wasn't going to awaken. In fact, she was going to have trouble getting his huge naked bulk under the covers. She lay on her back, relaxed, catching her breath, her ripely firm young breasts heaving up and down. The base of her neck was still pressed painfully against the headboard, wedged there by Hank's brutal thrusts, and she lay much in the same pose as Nichole had a few miles away in Pebble Beach a little earlier in the evening. Kim lay with her magnificently fleshed breasts in front of her face, her pert chin forced into her chest. Idly, she passed her hands over them, feeling their liquid weight and warmness. They were bigger, fuller, better formed than Nichole's. Kim's finger tips skimmed lightly over them, testing them tenderly for sore spots and bruises. Her lacquered fingernails gently touched her nipples; they sprang to life as she watched them, pale pink and hardening, tensing, pointing provocatively.