Alex Ayers - The soldier_s wife

"She's hot. Boy, is she hot."

He took his saliva-slick penis in his hand and clumsily jabbed it at her opening. Gwen, her eyes glazed, her breath coming quick pants, reached down and helped him guide it in. Her fingers replaced his around the base of the shank and she stabbed the cock in, driving it inside her as she might a dildo.

"Fuck…" she wheezed, "fuck me. Please? Love me?"

There was no turning back and no desire to. All she wanted was the obscene man's prick to jam into her and probe her guts until it put out the burning fire of desire that raged in her swollen cunt.

"All right. All right," he panted, lurching forward and sinking his rapier-like shaft into her.

Gwen cried out and clutched the back of his neck, pulling his stocking-covered head down against her breasts until she felt his wet mouth breathing against the nipple. She rubbed his head against one mound, then the other, grunting and crying and whispering for him to fuck her until she was dead.

Beneath her, she felt the other men's hands prying up under her buttocks, their fingers seeking out her ass, their pricks undulating against her thighs.

"Come on me," she cried. "Come on me."

She looked over the man's shoulder and saw one of the trio jerking at his cock, stripping it rapidly and aiming it at her face.

"In my mouth. Shoot it in my mouth," she begged, looking at him with pleading eyes, her mouth opening and forming an oval.

He edged along the side of the bed and leaned over his partner's neck, sticking the head of his cock into Gwen's mouth.

She sucked at it, straining to push her head farther over the man's shoulder and take in more of the turgid penis' girth.

"It's coming. It's coming."

She felt the first, wet, sticky drops of seminal fluid touch her tongue. Her lips masticated the head of the engorged tool until she felt the stream of jism sluice into her mouth in a heavy, viscous stream. She held it for a moment in the back of her throat and swallowed.

"More. More," she begged, throwing her legs up around the humping man's waist and biting into his neck. His hands mauled her breasts and his stockinged head rubbed like sandpaper against her cheek.

"Deeper. Oh, God, fuck me!"

She felt her body stiffen and the man jerk as his cock spat its venom inside her. She wrapped her ankles together and squeezed him until he grunted. The finger in her ass drove up, lifting her off the bed and she screamed as the warm, relaxing sensation of her orgasm carried her away into the shameless world of ecstasy.

As she floated down, her body relaxing, the realization of what she had just allowed her body to do becoming clear to her, she cried.

Quietly at first, and then more vigorously until her body was wracked with sobs.

"That's enough. And thanks. Here's your money."

She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at the men. The skinny man stood holding out his hand as the man who had toyed with her buttocks peeled off twenty bills into his hand.

"If I ever see you around here again, I'll call the cops and tell them you really raped her."

"No sweat, Mister. And if you want us for anything else…"

"That's all. Get out."

The two men left hurriedly. The third man turned and looked at Gwen. He pulled the stocking off his head and began to laugh, a bitter, caustic laugh that was drowned out by Gwen's scream.

"Allen!"

"Slut. You filthy whore. Those were the scum of the earth and you let them fuck you. You sucked their clicks." Allen's face was scarlet. His lips curled back odiously.

"Allen. Why? Why?"

"Sybil told me you were a little whore. She told me you fucked anything with legs. Now I know. Now I know."

"No! No!" Gwen screamed, burying her face in her hands and sobbing. "No."

She didn't see Allen reach into his pocket and pull out the cord. She didn't feel him grab her hands and tie them to the headboard or lash her feet to the bottom frame. She heard nothing but the loud ringing in her ears as her mind fought to comprehend the meaning of it all.

"You wanted a party," Allen shouted, shoving his face into hers. "Well, you'll get one."

Laughing insanely, he strolled out of the room, returning a moment later with a can of Ajax and a bottle of cheap wine.

"You're a slut. I have to clean you up you slut."

He shook the powder between her legs, on her breasts and face, then splashed the wine on her, laughing shrilly all the while. His trembling hands slapped at her flesh, rubbing the coarse cleanser into her skin. He rammed his finger into her vagina, screwing the digit in and scraping the soft tissues with the gritty mixture.

"Stop, Allen! Stop!"

She was as tense as a spring. When his fingers washed the cleanser around her clitoris, she began to feel the hotness coming to her cheeks, the uncontrollable desire gripping her. The room began to bend in toward her, Allen's laughing shape wavered before her eyes. Her mind reeled.

"Stop! Stop," she panted, trying to fight the teasing, hungry need he was stimulating in her.

"You like that, don't you, bitch?" Allen shoved his fingers in brutally. "You like that."

"No," she whispered. "No. I don't."

"Yes you do." He jacked them in and out faster. The blood-filled clitoris bulged out against his finger, aching for more and more attention.

Gwen tried to buck her hips. The ropes burned against her wrists and ankles. The pillow beneath her head was damp and soggy from the tears that rolled down her face as she struggled not to respond.

Her body betrayed her, arching up against the pain of her bounds, driving itself against his finger.

"Fuck. Fuck me, Allen," she whimpered, her mind jiggling like lusty Jello in her head. "I need it. I can't help it."

"You lie. You're just a whore. A rotten whore."

He jerked the finger away and she began to cry, twisting her arms and trying to get her fingers down to her hole to relieve what he had started. He sat back and laughed at her and began rubbing the Ajax on her nipples, grinding the gritty particles into the tips of her nipples, making the smooth flesh rise up with red, streaked welts.

She felt the powder sift into her mouth and eyes as he roared with laughter, laving her body madly with the soap. The pain was suppressed by the want that made his every touch electrify her body.

"Sybil. Bob," she whimpered, coughing and choking on the powder as Allen shook it down her throat. "Someone help me! Please! Help me!"

Allen's hand lashed out and knocked her head to one side. She remembered his maniacal laughing as she slipped into the disturbed solace of unconsciousness, her hips jerking up and down, her tongue licking at her lips, tasting the blood that lingered there.

"Whore. Viet Cong whore. Killer. Murderer."

The words rang through her mind as she fell headlong through the nightmare-filled world of blackness.

"I'm sorry," Sybil said sitting next to Bob and rubbing the back of his neck with her hand. "You were right about them. I think we went too far."

Bob hesitated, then relaxed and leaned his head against Sybil's firm, jutting breast as a little boy might against the consolation of his mother's bosom.

"I'm glad, Sybil. I'm glad you're back to yourself."

"I am," she said, hooking her chin against his neck and smiling lewdly. "I have it all figured out. Exactly where we went wrong and how we can solve it."

"Just forget about them, I suppose," Bob replied, nuzzling down into her cleavage and desiring her body. It had been so long since the two of them had shared their lustful demands. Allen had taken her from him completely, but he was gone now. Now things could return as they were, with the two of them sharing their desires, feeding off one another's body as they used to.