Jon Reskind - Kappy volume 2

"Just about," Max replied without looking at her. "Chief Lannigan and Judge McGraw just arrived with their frumpy fraus."

"Have you seen the Heaths yet?"

"No. That's why I'm watching. It's almost nine-thirty," he said, a little ring of concern in… his voice.

Maggie smiled at his broad back. "You liked that novice little pussy, eh Daddy?"

He turned, offering her a lewd grin. "Enough so that I want to try it again."

"Sharingly tonight, remember," his wife taunted.

Max chuckled. "Listen, there's enough there and then some to go around, baby."

"Hmmmmm… I might sample it myself, once things get into full swing," Maggie said, cupping her fully rounded white breasts from beneath and admiringly watching her own provocative reflection in the mirror. Caressingly, she trapped their wine-colored nipples between two fingers of each hand and erotically provoked them into swollen hardness. She caught sight of Kappy's deep-brown animal-eyes attentively watching and reached out to pat his massive head, another thought coming to mind. "Have the girls been brought over yet?" she questioned.

"Yeah, I saw Seybor ushering them in… five of them," Max answered, applying brushes to the temples of his graying hair. "That ought to be enough to form the nucleus of some real sporting daisy-chains."

"I want Jean Wilson for Kappy first," Maggie said, her onyx-eyes narrowing vindictively as she continued to massage the rounded white mounds of her firm, full breasts in the mirror. "That should get things off to a good start."

"You really have got it in for the poor kid, haven't you?" He shook his handsome head, mentally enumerating the lurid paces they had both put the luscious little blonde bitch and her husband through since he'd first forced Judge McGraw to place them in his home as servants. Actually, he doubted that the kids had been guilty of possessing pot, but once he'd eyed that tight, rounded young ass, there'd been nothing but lechery in his heart, and a hardened cock in his pants. And Christ, what a sweet fuck she'd been… in fact, he might go a little piece of that again tonight in between Carol Heath and that red-headed Sandy Jarvis…

I've got it in for a lot of people, darling, Maggie thought to herself as she continued to massage her breasts and the soft, satiny flesh of her belly and abdomen, feeling the silkiness of her dark pubic curls brushing against the edge of her slender hand. One of which is you, once I get my young lover-man trained… and that isn't going to take long with that marvelous young cock of his…

"What the hell is that stuff you doctored the drinks with tonight?" Max asked, interrupting her scheming thoughts.

"Pargyline, darling. I was given to understand that it's not fully developed as to all of its uses as yet, but supposedly it's far ahead of L-Dopa as an aphrodisiac. I promised our friend, Dr. Ganzza, that we'd give it a real test on the girls and guests tonight… though I doubt that you or I will need any. Just be careful only to drink from the marked bottles."

Again, Max chuckled to himself. Leave it to Maggie to arouse the basest animal instincts in either a male or female. He had no idea what this Pargyline was, but he'd bet his ass it was effective to the nth degree, especially if that abortion machine, Ganzza, had anything to do with it. The bastard should've been drummed out of the human race years ago…

"Well, I'm going down and join the fray, Mrs. Keele," he said taking one last look at himself in the mirror. "I presume you'll make your regular dynamic appearance in due time?"

Maggie turned her alluring, if severely beautiful, smile on him. "Very shortly, darling. I have only to slip on my gown."

"I don't know why you bother," he said, grinning. "You won't have it on that long."

"Only so that some handsome young man like Jack Heath can take it off for me, lover," she sensually replied, still caressing her lush, white breasts. "A woman likes that, you know."

"Ill remember it," he said, walking toward the door. "And happy fucking, my dear."

"Likewise, I'm sure, darling…"

Jack Heath was not so drunk that he didn't know what he was doing, but he'd spent most of the afternoon wandering from bar to bar, and the last two hours in a neighborhood establishment not two blocks from the Keele home. Once he'd gotten the business at hand taken care of, his mind had refilled with the jealous rage that had been with him since witnessing Carol's wanton performance with Max Keele the night before. And the more he thought about it the angrier he became, drinking another and another with each increasing degree of rage, until on an empty stomach it was not long before he was staggeringly inebriated.

Still, he felt quite confident that he knew what he was doing, and that if he didn't stop he wouldn't be doing anything very long… he'd pass out. Well, fuck that too! What difference did it make? Without Carol nothing mattered, and she'd blown their whole Goddamned marriage by not coming clean with him that morning. The beautiful sweet bitch… Goddamn her… sucking that lecher-bastard's cock and swallowing his filthy hot sperm right down into her soft belly… his own little soft, white belly! The sluttish bitch! Christ, how he loved her! Why hadn't she come right out and told him, like always? He would've understood, but to try and hide it from him… and after the tender way he had always treated her. Shit, he'd never forced her to do anything she didn't want to when they made love, and he'd insisted that none of the capitol gang ever take advantage of her either. Well, maybe that's where he'd made his mistake, eh? If he'd just socked it to her anyway he felt like, made her suck him, or anything else he could think of, it all might be different right now… And maybe it wasn't too late for that, either!

With blurred eyes, he looked at his watch. Nine-thirty. All right, Goddamnit, before he threw in the towel, one last try. He'd go back to the apartment and lay it on the line… No, he'd just rip off his clothes and hers too, if she wasn't already in bed; then he'd have the whole Goddamned thing out with her once and for all. No more pretended inhibitions! She was either going to be his wife or not, and there was no time like the present to find out!

Angrily, he stumbled from the bar into the street and hailed a cab. He couldn't remember now where he'd left his car, and that was just as well, he reasoned. He was too drunk to drive it anyway; besides, he didn't want to concentrate on anything but the wild fucking party he was going to revel in with that voluptuous blonde creature he called "wife"… even if he had to beat the shit out of her first…!

Having gone through the sordid experience once before, Jean Wilson was not surprised when Seybor led them into the Keele's rumpus room on the second floor of the mansion to where the so-called Spaxton meeting was taking place. The sight of the maze of naked, as well as near-naked, bodies in the soft light engaged in every form of obscene coupling and act imaginable, did not shock her as it had the first time, yet she couldn't deny the tight feeling of apprehensive fear gnawing at her insides.

Beside her, she saw the faces of both Barbara and Dollie blanch even in that faint light, and she reached out to give both of their trembling young hands a squeeze of encouragement. Then, before they had gone three more steps, Bige Lannigan, the deceitful Chief of Police, had barged forward to grab Sandy, running his big, fat hand lewdly up in under her tiny dress between her soft, white thighs.

"Come on, you little red-headed bitch!" he rasped foully as Sandy jerked with natural reflex to his abusing hand between her legs. "You're my sucking girl tonight, and I've got a loaded cock as hard as a lead weight! Come on, let's get over here where you can get at it…!"