Joseph Cirelli - Attack from behind

She wriggled as he looked at her and her fingers went down to his sore and battered cock, now flaccid and limp. She teased it mercilessly until it was hard again and then squirmed over onto his lap, placing it deftly up between her thighs. One tiny adjustment, one final wiggle, and he was in her again.

Don smiled thinly and began to fuck her but he couldn't escape the blank expression on her face. She was enraptured with the salacious thrill of his erection up between her cuntal lips and she gurgled with rousing incitement as he pushed hard into the ravaged depths of her warm and clasping vagina.

Yet there was something peculiar about the way that she looked, a kind of strange distant expression that masked her pretty face and made a near, stranger out of his wife.

It took him a while before he recognized it, before he realized what it was that was making her look this way… it was the blank nakedness of a woman just before her climax, the emptiness of character that cried aloud… I don't care who you are or what are, give me your cock! Give me your cock!

It was Thursday before they finally returned to Evansboro, eager to start packing for the movers and anxious to arrange the sale of their house.

Don's job-hunting had paid off and he was scheduled to be on the job at eight on Monday, at a salary that was fully a third more than be could have ever made here at the plant.

They drove slowly down the main street, realizing without emotion that it might be the last time they saw it together, yet they shared the same feelings… Had the streets really grown dirtier and narrower since they had left? And had the houses suddenly become cramped and dingy… or had it always been like this?

They knew quickly enough when they saw the familiar small-town faces, the same ones they had seen for years… they were strangers in their own town.

After dinner, as they sat quietly in the cramped kitchen of their small home, Diane finally spoke. "Are you going to see any of the guys from work? Other than Red, I mean."

Don did a double-take, then remembered that, after one drink too many the night before, he had told his wife the whole story about what he did to Red Collins before they left town. It wasn't a pretty story now that the heat had died to a slow burn, but he wasn't ashamed… if he had to do it again, he would have done exactly the same thing.

"I was kinda' thinking about dropping in for one last fling at the Stop-Over," he admitted.

"And Lucy… how about one last fling with her," Diane suggested cynically.

Don smiled wickedly. "Maybe… but she'd be sloppy seconds after that bunch we've been with for the last five days!"

"Go on, enjoy yourself… you won't be back this way for a long time. You might as well leave Evansboro with a bang. It'll give 'em something to talk about."

Don watched her eyes to see if she was kidding, the way that she sometimes did when she really wanted just the opposite. But this time the look was sincere.

"Okay… it sounds good to me. You want'a come along?" he asked, getting up from the table and bumping his knee on the edge of the stove.

"No, you have fun… I'll turn in early, I suppose. We've got a lot of packing to do in the morning." She walked him to the door and stood outside until he was around the corner in their car.

She walked quickly to the phone, the glowing heat that was so familiar now already burning hotly between her legs so that it made even walking uncomfortable. This was the first night since the weekend that she hadn't had her choice of men… Jerry's and Irene's party had spilled over into a week-long orgy with couples coming and going, some of them coming back three nights in a row. But tonight there was no one, not even Don, and she wasn't keen on spending a half-hour with her fingers between her legs trying to find some semblance of satisfaction alone.

It rang only once before the familiar coarse voice answered gruffly. She swallowed hard and fought back the bile of nausea that sickened her like poisoned food; the memories rushed back in a flood of anguish and shame, but the burning heat of her loins, the knotted tightness of her belly, were more important to the young married woman now.

"H-hello… Red, this is Diane…"