Michael Jaeggers - Honeymoon hotel

Dick glanced down at the female. Her mouth was laxly open, and her breath was hissing through bared teeth. She was rotating her shoulders as though she were trying to take wing and fly. She was panting… and her eyes were rolling wildly. She was close to cumming. Well, fuck it!

With sadistic pleasure, Dick withdrew his cock completely. Her haunches rose up like a blind animal, weaving in the air, seeking it. "What's… what's wrong?" she panted. "Don't stop now… you can't stop."

"Why not?" he growled, wanting only to hear her beg.

She guessed his purpose. "You God-damned impudent son of a bitch… fuck me!" she hissed, and then grabbed his testicles and yanked so hard it felt as though they were being ripped out by the roots. Her fingernails cruelly and purposely bit into the scrotum.

Dick reacted much the same as a bull being pricked by a picador. He charged! "Why you… you!" He savagely slapped her face. Her head flew back against the pillow; her eyes glazed from the blow. The pain in his balls was agonizing. He wanted only to punish the bitch now.

He wanted to hurt her more that he had ever wanted to hurt anyone before in his life.

He put his steel-hard cock against her tender vaginal mouth and shoved; as he did so, he pushed her knees back until her face peered between them like a frightened owl in the branches of a tree. It gave him another two inches of depth, and she screamed in genuine pain as he reached the virginal territory.

In and out he drove with demented fury, a fury that did not die even when she screamed, "I'm cumming. Fuck harder, you Yankee bastard. I'm cumming!" Her loins were trying to work up and down on his shaft, but he kept her pinned there. She groaned and fell back – no longer fighting him as her orgasm began. He could feel her pussy twitching and sucking away at him, could feel the sudden new heat of her steaming snatch as her cum flooded her hidden passageways. He kept pounding mindlessly into her until she screamed a minute later, "I'm cumming again… aaiiieeee." This was followed within seconds by another cry of release, then another, then still another, until her orgasms began running together in one continuous aurora borealis of ecstasy glowing and dancing across her wildly clamping pussy walls. Finally, her eyes rolled into her head and she passed out completely. Dick, propped up by knees and elbows, glanced down at her. He pinched her nipple; she remained unconscious. Then, grinning sardonically, he made one – two – three savage thrusts forward before his cock began spurting its scalding hot cum directly against the hot, still slightly pulsating walls of her subservient cunt. God how she had cum! It was the cum of a conqueror fucking a helpless female captive… a slave of lust… the cum of hatred and mastery… but not of love.

He fell alongside her unconscious body and gave way to a victorious sleep.

Some time later in the dream, he vaguely recalled her voice sleepily saying, "That was the best fuck I've had in years. Simply years, darling. But you were a very bad boy. You hurt me. I know you must have ripped something inside me… you loveable, uncontrollable bastard."

And still later, the voice said, "Repeat after me. At two o'clock tomorrow night, you will come to me again. Now, you will return to your room and when you awake tomorrow morning, it will all seem like a dream. It will have been a dream – you made love to your wife…"

Just before final oblivion came, he thought he heard her laughter and thought he caught the words, "Tomorrow night, my dear, I'll not let you off the leash like tonight. Tomorrow you are going down between my legs and eat it…"

What a screwy dream! Really wild! As if his bride would ever talk or act like this. Quietly, so that he wouldn't disturb Sue, he got out of bed and went to the shower.

As he stepped under the stream of hot water, he laughed and said aloud, "I feel listless, man, almost as if I really had been screwing all night." Then almost immediately he thought: A helluva thing – having a wet dream on my honeymoon; that doesn't speak too much of Sue's love making abilities. He felt a trifle guilty when he realized that the dream probably was based on wishful thinking – based on the hope that Sue would start showing some emotion, some initiative, and would relax and enjoy his love making.

It wasn't until he was towelling himself dry that he noted the very slight bruise on his right calf. It looked almost as if he had pricked himself with a pin or something.

Sue was fascinated by Lord Medwell when he arrived shortly after lunch. He's cute, she thought; and a strong wind would blow him away. He was shorter than she and seemed terribly old in appearance but young in action. His manners were so nice, so polished… and he even wore a bow tie and had a very small rosebud boutonniere on the lapel of his tweed suit. He had bowed low, kissed her hand, and told her she was "charming" and "refreshing."

Lady Margaret, his young sister, was something else again. She frightened Sue by the intensity of her stare. Too, she was tall and heavy to the point where she seemed almost square shaped. Her hair was gray and cut like a male's, and she wore a masculine suit. When Lady Margaret spoke, her voice was almost a baritone and it purred like a hungry tiger shortly before feeding time. In a great many respects, Sue thought, Lady Margaret looks and acts an awful lot like the girl's physical education teacher back home who was fired after some scandal involving two freshmen year girls and another teacher.

There was no doubt about it in Dick's mind. Lady Margaret was a truck-driving butch type if he had ever seen one, and he wasn't about to let his naive wife stumble into a situation where she would have to defend herself. As for Lord Medwell, that was something else again. Dick had noted that the older man was sizing him up; it was almost as if he were an old stallion looking at a young stud as possible competition. The Morgans obviously knew and liked Lord Medwell and Lady Margaret. For just a brief moment he thought he had glimpsed an intimate flash between Nora and Lord Medwell, but then he mentally laughed. "Besides," Dick told himself, "the poor old bastard probably hasn't had a hard-on since before World War II." He couldn't imagine the old goat and Nora together. He could imagine himself with her, however. The image was exciting, and once again he saw himself in the dream with her. Nora seemed somehow different this morning – a healthier glow, an air of contentment. As far as that was concerned, even Sue seemed more relaxed – different – this morning. He couldn't quite put his finger on the difference; it had to be, he thought, because she had finally had a good night's sleep.

Dick listened to the four older people gossip about obviously wealthy and important friends. It was pretty boring stuff, especially so considering that it was such a beautiful afternoon… a day to be outside, not inside yakking in a dreary old castle. He glanced at Sue and raised his eyebrows questioningly. She nodded imperceptibly. Dick stood and apologized, "I hope you'll forgive us; we have a date to go sailing this afternoon."

"Of course, of course," Lord Medwell said. "Shall we meet for cocktails?"

"We'd be honored, sir."

Sue ran upstairs to change into shorts and a sweater, while Dick went out to the dock and unfurled the small sail on the boat. Sue was back again within five minutes, and a short time later they were rapidly skimming across the lake.

Back at the castle, Morgan had shown Lord Medwell to his room. The two men stood at the window watching as the boat sailed around a point of land and disappeared from sight.

"By Jove, the girl's really something," Lord Medwell said admiringly, as he laid down the binoculars he had been using to study Sue's breasts and legs.