John Reskind - Kappy

Jean's head swam from the force of his stinging blow, but the terrifying repugnance his loathsome proposition sent nauseously sweeping through her was far more staggering than if he had beat her senseless! She could only gape up at him in sickened panic!

"M-My God… no… you wouldn't!" she heard herself groan feebly. "Please… oh God… please let me go…!"

"Don't be ridiculous, baby," Max replied with a leer. "It boils right down to this… if that punk-husband of yours can fuck my wife, then I can fuck his… and that's exactly what I intend to do… after you've taken a look at the video tape I'm going to show you." He walked to the large TV set and began to manipulate knobs, while she stared at him in further confused abhorrence at his nightmarish lie, her whirling brain searching frantically for any avenue of escape…! "I'm only sorry that there's no audio portion… but they say a picture's worth a thousand words… well, we'll see…"

And she did, her wide green eyes locking on the colored screen in traumatic fascination as Mrs. Keele's totally naked body, spread open lewdly on a bed, composed the picture, her salaciously exposed genitals and hips writhing obscenely, as if in licentious anticipation before the unrecognizable man who back Jean could only partially see! He held a drink in his hand as he obviously ogled the beautiful, sensual nakedness before him… and then, she saw the raven-haired woman's lips move as her sparkling dark eyes seemed to glaze, and the man began to pull at his own clothing…!

He came fully into the picture at that point, and with mind-shattering dismay, Jean saw that it actually was her husband, Ken!

"Oh no… no… noooooo!" she moaned weakly, watching him shed every stitch, until at last he stood as naked as the vixen on the bed, his hardened penis thrusting out from his lean, hairy loins lustfully, his terrible intentions obvious!

Max Keele watched the teenaged blonde doll he had quietly sat down beside with sadistic delight. He had already witnessed the replay once and preferred to focus his attentions on the shocked reactions of the wronged little wife, his lecherous desire beginning to rapidly mount as he let his eyes play over the delightful charms of her youth. Christ, what a ravishing fuck she was going to be once he stuffed his growing hard cock into that tight little blonde-haired cunt of hers…

She groaned out and covered her mouth with her hands suddenly, causing him to look toward the screen and see Maggie holding Wilson's cock in her hand, then licking its head before sucking damned near the full length of it into her educated mouth. He couldn't help but grin obscenely at both the lewd spectacle on the screen, and the expression of disbelieving horror on Jean Wilson's face, the latter sending evil sensations of sadistic lust charging through his groin…

A certain numbness of mind and body had crept over Jean, seeming to render her helpless as she stared in repugnance at the wicked, heart-breaking performance unfolding before her very eyes. Dear God, dear God… how could he do such a thing to her? Her brain repeated the unanswerable question time and again as she watched through tear-filled eyes her new husband's illicit lovemaking to the very wife of the man who sat next to her. She couldn't believe it when he cradled himself between her thighs and took his penis in his hand, finally thrusting it deep into the beautiful older woman's receptively open vagina, the painful, but stimulating sight instigating tiny erotic sensations in her own loins, almost as if he were pressing it into her… where it belonged…

"I'll have to admit, the kid does have a sizable cock there," Jean heard the big man comment luridly, suddenly aware that his huge arm was around her shoulders, his hand caressing her upper arm gently. "Frankly, I hate like hell to throw the book at the young bastard, but he's got to learn that he can't run around fucking other men's wives without paying the piper…"

Jean looked at him pleadingly. "Oh please… please don't do anymore to hurt us…?"

"Hurt you? Christ, baby, what are you talking about?" he questioned as if stunned by her remark. "I tried only to help you both from the beginning… kept Judge McGraw from sending you up to cool your heels, and this is the thanks I get… your husband fucks my wife and you bite me! Some thanks…"

Jean shook her head in utter confusion, trying to keep her eyes from the terrible spectacle taking place on the TV screen, while her mind worked desperately to function with intelligence. Somehow, she felt certain that Mrs. Keele had coerced Ken into the horrible act. How, she had no idea, but he would have an explanation, and she had to keep faith… they loved each other too much! Yet, simultaneously, she reasoned that she must keep this evil man from taking out his vengeance on her young husband… keep him pacified until Chief Lannigan could act… and dear God, the massive brute had already made it known what he expected! But no… no! She could never go through with that! There had to be another way…!

"Where do you think you're going?" he questioned, his hand gripped her upper arm as she started to rise from the couch.

"I-I was going to pick up those pieces of glass on the floor…"

"Never mind, they'll keep, baby… I won't," he said, his flinty eyes raking over her hungrily. "Now, you sit right here while I make us both a nice soothing drink, then we'll discuss the situation sensibly, eh?"

Jean leaned slowly back against the davenport, but rigidly so, the idea of something to brace her nerves not exactly repulsive to her.

Max grinned, patted her on the knee and arose, walking to the TV set. "You seen enough of this affair," he asked back over his broad shoulder.

"Yes… God, yes…!"

He chuckled and turned it off, while a nervous tremor rippled over Jean's nerve-wracked young body. Dear Lord, what was going to happen next? She couldn't afford to do anything foolish that might hurt their chances before Chief Lannigan cleaned up the whole sordid mess, but neither could she just wantonly give herself up to his horrible demands… and then he was coming back carrying two glasses of a milkish appearing concoction…

"Absinthe, Jean, baby… great for what ails you," he said, handing one to her and dropping down beside her once more. "So, cheers," he said in raised toast.

She nodded, half responding, then lifted the glass to her lips, tasting carefully and finding its licorice flavor pleasing, taking a second, deeper draught that immediately began to warm her stomach. She sensed his big arm moving up behind her on the rim of the couch once more and twisted on the cushion to face him.

"Y-You won't do anything to Ken… will you?"

The big, handsome man smiled. "Like I said much earlier. doll, that depends on you. I'm a great believer in an eye for an eye… and that husband of yours deserves to have both of his plucked out! But… if you cooperate, I'll show mercy…"

"A-And… and if I don't?" Jean ventured courageously.

"Then… you both lose all the way around," he replied, his eyes narrowing lecherously. "I'll fuck the shit out of you anyway… and Mr. Ken Wilson will go to the galleys! It's your choice, baby… like I also said before."

"Oh… oh please… and will you stop using those horrible, filthy four-letter words!" she whimpered, trembling once more. Dear God, she just couldn't… couldn't submit her body to him…! Suddenly, she tilted the glass to her lips and drained it, holding to the back of the sofa, then abruptly tried to gain her feet once more. His arm went over her, not touching her, but barring her way. Slowly, she lowered her trembling hand to the exposed nylon-encased flesh of her thigh and his larger one came down to cover it. Her heart bolted at his unabashed aggression, seeming to surge upward right into her throat. She gaped at him breathlessly, then squirmed backwards, working herself into the corner of the seat. He smiled, not unhandsomely, but those lecherous lights were dancing in his flinty eyes to frighten her.