Ralph Burch - Women Abducted

"Oh, Jesus, so great," he murmured.-He kissed her. Soft lips parted for firm, questing lips. Breasts still thrilled by his hard chest. Tongues meshed, and sweet saliva flowed between them in a hot, French kiss.

She felt her whole body open outwards and floated off into a burst of glorious stars and cascades of fire. It took her a moment to realize her cunt had gone into continuous orgasm.

"Oh, Don, fuuuuucked," she grunted and throbbed against his cock.

"Ga, ga, ga," he went, like a baby. Completely out of his mind in joy. That silken, sweet cunt in its snugness worshipped his prick with glove squeezes of feminine happiness and submission, and he felt the roaring fires of desire-pleasure turn white hot in his belly. His whole abdomen glowed with the coming fury of his spend.

She fell back gasping from her orgasm and then tensed again and worked her loins to draw more pleasure from the intense fuck friction. She was lost in all time and space now, one huge, glowing creature of lust, fucking and exploding, quaking, falling and rising again to throb against his cock.

"Oh, God, lovely. Sex, sex. Killing me," she cried happily.

"Muh-making you. Making it. Uh, uh, uh." He was rising now. "Don. Love. Oh, love, love. Oh, oh, oh."

"Keep-keep coming, Mom. I-I-I-" The peak.

He gave a great masculine cry of joy and completion. 'FUUUUCKED!" He stilled in exquisite pleasure. Then his gushes came joyful, leaping relief as he spurted his jism gut deep into her cunt. Spurt, spurt, spurt. "Ohhhhhh, yesssssss," he whined and seeded her with luscious, foaming bursts of come.

"Ahhhh, uhhhhh, ahhhhh." She wanted it all, the hot, virile thick male sperm from deep in his body. He held her ass tightly now to get maximum penetration and delivered it all with shuddering ecstasy.

"Teeeee-take it. Take it!"

"Good. Oh, gooood," she cried and came again at the thrilling gush deep in her body, his cock alive inside of her.

At last orgasms tapered to waves of spent pleasure and a heavenly euphoria descended upon them like a velvet, soft cloud and they rested, still fuck-locked, in glowing splendor.

Only then did Alice hear a strange new sound. It was actually an absence of sound. The rain had stopped. The sound of the rushing flood did not seem as loud. Lying there with her son's cock buried in her, her vagina filled with his jism that leaked out on her thighs; she suddenly knew beyond doubt that they weren't going to die in the flood. She knew it…

Downstairs, May had awakened, made some sandwiches and coffee and sat alone, sipping the hot brew. She wasn't anxious to face Alice, or Don, either. Her body felt a little stiff from the sex activity on the porch, and somehow the sense of the wildness of nature, her own matching wildness, was gone. She instinctively knew that the retaining wall had held and that they were going to survive, and go back to their dull, repressed lives. She felt a sweet sadness.

Don came down the stairs, wearing only his shorts. He looked stunned, stoned, shocked. He walked over to her, stumbling over a kitchen knife that had somehow misplaced itself mysteriously near the fireplace. He came into her arms and began to weep.

Startled, she held his young, warm body and racked her brains. What was wrong? It couldn't be the flood. She sneaked a hand inside his shorts and felt his big, soft cock. For an instant she was shocked too. Then she began to laugh, a throaty, peasant laugh.

"You fucked her! That hard-assed, good-looking piece of mother-tail. Good for you, Don. Good!"…

It was a week before May saw Don again. In that week Weatherford had almost returned to normal. She hadn't seen or heard from Alice Kellog at all. Then one evening Don appeared with insurance papers for her to sign about the loss of the Kellog car, a friend dropping him off.

"Well?" she grinned at him.

'She's gone. Aunt Mabel's in Cincinnati. She says maybe she's going to move there, get a job and stay. She wouldn't let me near her or even look at her cross-eyed. She'd hardly speak to me. And she hates you. Oh, God, I made a mess of things."

She suggested that he stay for dinner and talk it over. Later, naked on the bed, delirious with her joy at her new young lover, May said:

"The flood hurt a lot of people. I'm very sorry for that. For us it was lucky."

"Bad," he groaned. "I committed incest with my mother, drove he off, ruined your friendship with her, filled my life with guilt."

She took hold of his young cock, temporarily soft.

"Believe that if you want. You have Alice's uptight pessimism. Ask me what I think."

"What do you think?"

"I think you dig older women. I think you and I will make love fiercely until you get sick of my hot, bottomless lust, dear Don. By then Alice will be back. You'll both fight and fuss and storm and end up fucking each other crazy. Then oceans of guilt will tear you apart and she'll leave and it'll be my turn again, until that sexy tight-assed mother of yours gets in heat again. Then more of same. Too bad she isn't here now-we could all live happily in my house. Maybe someday we will, with no one the wiser. Beautiful lovers, all."

He had to laugh then. "Maybe the flood wasn't so bad for us. I'm with you. Let's fuck to that."

Two worlds-minutes apart in the same city. One safe, secure, quiet, mental. That was Donna Gray's sorority house that she left about five o'clock that afternoon, bundle under her arm. One violent, roaring, bloody. That was where she headed that afternoon-down the freeway to the ghetto alongside the industrial district. The rentstrike parade. "The wildest night this town will ever see," Witsy promised Donna, flashing white teeth in her beautiful tan face. "Kark and I are a big part of it. We're the team drops the bomb in the bank-the fucking red-lining bank that everybody hates down here."

Donna felt cold in her arms and legs and hot in her stomach. She didn't really want to see Witsy tonight, or Witsy's boyfriend, Kark. But Witsy was her sociology project and her conscience wouldn't let her off the hook. Tonight would be a high water mark in Witsy's young life. The riot if it got to that-and the bank bombing. So how could Donna stay home at the sorority house play rock music, wash her hair, study or gossip with friends while Witsy, the subject of her sociology thesis went through her night in hell without her? No way. The white virgin coed was scared spitless-but she knew she had to go. Police cars already moved silently, efficiently towards the parade street. The evening was cool; Donna shivered. There could be big trouble down here tonight. She parked her car some distance away and took the bus into the danger areas as Witsy had instructed her. There were a few other riders. No sane person would near Canterbury Avenue tonight. Donna clutched her bundle and her bag with the recorder and notebook and felt her breath go short as she got close. She'd never exposed herself to anything like this before.

The Oldtown district frightened her and stimulated her at the same time. It was not all black, but a mixture of poor whites, chicanos, blacks and a few orientals. Beside the strong industrial smells, there was an odor of decay and staleness. As she went past a gloomy tavern she smelled the smell of stale beer. To Donna who came from another, smaller city with little poverty, who'd always lived in a well-to-do home, this district was like a visit to another planet.

Tonight there was an air of urgency and excitement as people scurried by, either on the way to the parade or ducking out of the area to hide until the action was over. On her other visits she'd feared mugging, or worse. Tonight with the sound of sirens and the sight of police cars and an occasional fire truck she felt a different fear like a city getting ready for a war. But she'd promised Witsy…