Anonymous - Spouse Swap

Trish nodded, "Which means that you'll have to give up some sleep so you can tail them. I can't do the job. After dark is when Bruce does his best to put bedsores on my back."

"No problem. I'm slowly getting used to going without sleep, but not without sex."

Trish ignored his hint at sex and took the right road at Truck Stop Junction. She was tired of making like a community whore for everybody who came up with a stiff prick.

Gabe cut into her thoughts. "When you reach the rest area, pull into it."

Trish sighed, asking foolishly, "Why?"

Gabe started to lose his cool again. "Never mind why. Just do it."

I'd better do as he says, she told herself. The strain is beginning to show on him. It wouldn't take much to put him over the edge and get my ass dumped.

"All right, Gabe," she said placatingly. "All right."

They arrived at the tourist's pull off a few minutes later. Trish checked the wild impulse to drive past, skidded into it and killed the engine. A moment later tension gripped her. It had something to do with Gabe's sullen silence. In fact, it had everything to do with Gabe's sullen silence. Fear clawed at her guts. She tried to quell her nervousness by looking around. Her eyes prowled, her heart hammered, her nose wrinkled. Some rest area. One overflowing litter barrel that smelled as though something had climbed inside and died; a plank table cluttered with dirty paper plates, empty beer cans and pine cones; one abandoned Canada Dry bottle, and one used sanitary napkin. It was enough to gag a maggot.

She turned her attention back to the still-silent Gabe and said peevishly, "Let's go somewhere else."

Gabe baring his teeth in a mirthless smile, shook his head. "I like it here. Get out."

All color drained from her face, and her mouth dropped open. She had made an error in judgment by concluding that Gabe had taken her harsh words concerning Elke Lockridge and Joe Dooley the way she had intended them to be taken-as sound advice. He was hating her for being right, and in his own sadistic way he was going to do something to let her know it.

"Don't worry," he said, sensing the fear that gripped her. "Nothing's going to happen. I only want to talk. Get out."

Trish sat frozen. A feeling of total inadequacy flooded her system, and it became increasingly difficult to speak. She made an effort to gather her courage, to put the sudden anger she felt into verbal form, to fight him with open defiance. She finally managed to find her voice, and now the words dropped from her lips like hard pebbles trying to defy gravity. "Gabe, I've got something to say. I want you to stop using me for a punching bag every time something goes wrong. I didn't sabotage your stinking pickup, so why take it out on me?"

Impatience edged his voice. "I don't intend to take anything out on you, but if you keep bugging me, I might. Get out."

Trish surrendered to the inevitable and climbed out of the car. She stood still. She really felt like running. She sucked air into her lungs and waited, breasts dancing in rhythm to the same fear that was making her flesh crawl.

Gabe stopped before her. His eyes bored into hers. He was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was husky with anger. "You're a slow learner, aren't you?"

She blinked. "I don't follow."

He gave a short, bitter laugh. "Oh, you follow, all right. I'm talking about the bad habit you have of trying to run a ring through my nose."

"All I said was that making waves before we got the money would be stupid."

"And you were right," Gabe conceded, "only you should have told it to me in a nicer way. I don't like chicks who try to cram things down my throat."

Trish groaned inwardly and looked off into the night. A weakness settled into her knees. She knew what was coming-another dumping. She tried to head it off at the pass. She licked her lips in a moistening gesture and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, Gabe."

He smiled coldly. "Sorry won't get it, puss. What you need is another lesson in how not to act so goddamn bossy. The one I gave you the other night didn't work. This one might. Drop your laundry."

Trish stood frozen.

Gabe laughed as though he were gargling with mouthwash and took a step forward. Fingers tightened over her shoulders. He drew her to his body. His mouth mashed down on hers, lips hard and tongue working to reach the inside of her mouth, wrapping around her tongue.

Trish felt his stiff cock jab against her stomach and felt suddenly nauseated. She didn't want to play. She twisted away, panted, "Gabe, don't!"

He snarled like a wild animal and reached for her heaving breasts. She slapped his hand away with no particular force. A mistake. Hers. Gabe's hand chopped down and caught her across the breasts, bringing instant pain. She screamed and staggered back, clutching herself.

"Damn you," she hissed. "You hurt me!"

Gabe laughed and unholstered his cock. "Bossy bitches were born to be hurt. My mother found that out the night I dumped her overbearing ass and ran away from home. Yeah, she sure did find out."

His words jarred. Trish's eyes bugged, and she looked at Gabe as though seeing him for the first time. A sinking sensation filled the pit of her stomach. The truth was there for the reading. Gabe was insane, not playing with a full deck. Strange she hadn't noticed it before…

Gabe closed the narrow space that lay between them. He lifted his hands to the twin mounds behind her blouse and croaked, "Give me your tits, bitch."

Her arm lifted, dropped. Her long fingernails clawed a bloody trail down the left side of his face. She shrilled, "Leave me be, you crazy bastard!"

Gabe didn't seem to hear her. He was oblivious to everything except the desire to hurt and humiliate her. He trapped her in his powerful arms and jammed his mouth against hers until her teeth began to hurt. His arms tightened, pulling her toward his exposed prick. Their lower bodies collided, and Trish felt his erection gouge and threaten to punch a hole in her skirt. She sagged against him for a few seconds. Then she uncoiled like a broken spring and struggled desperately to escape the tongue Gabe was trying to cram into her mouth.

"Stop fighting me, puss," Gabe snarled as he lifted the hemline of her short skirt with his hard-on and rammed the tip of it against the webbing of her bikini panties. "You aren't going to win anyhow. This juicy cunt of yours is mine. All mine."

She writhed and felt his cock move to her thigh. It was cold and slimy. Like a snake. She kept twisting her body and snapped, "Turn me loose, you crazy son of a bitch!"

Gabe dropped his hands to her haunches and rubbed his tool over her thigh. "Sure, puss. I'll turn you loose. Right after you drain the cum from my whang. Now stop acting like a goddamn virgin and strap some pussy on me!"

Trish wanted nothing to do with his cock. She attempted to knee him in the groin, missed. Gabe cursed and removed one hand from her haunches. He slapped her face, hard, then reached for her left breast. He cupped, squeezed, hurt, and Trish felt her nipple harden against his palm. She flinched. Then she raised her knee for the second time, right on target.

Gabe grunted, paled, then said through pain-clenched teeth, "You just earned yourself a sore butt for doing that, puss. I only intended to screw your snatch, but now I'm going to make a detour and fuck you in the ass."

Terror twisted her features, making them momentarily grotesque, and her voice sounded as though a pair of visible hands gripped her by the throat as she croaked, "No, Gabe, not there! Oh, my God, not there! I'll be good, I promise! I won't try to boss you any more! I'll do anything you say, only please don't fuck my ass! Don't, lover, don't!"

Gabe laughed and applied more pressure to the breast he gripped. Trish moaned and fought to break away from him. It was a waste of time and effort. He was too strong for her. And too determined. He backed her haunches against the picnic table, and now both hands came into play. Aspirin-sized buttons popped free of her blouse and flew in all directions, and he hooked a fat finger into the V of her half-bra, gave it a downward tug and tumbled her breasts into nakedness. Sickness threatened to erupt in her stomach as he caught her tumid nipples between thumbs and forefingers and squeezed them as though they were grapes he wished to reduce to a pulp. Agony ripped through her body, reached her brain. Senses reeled, darkness threatened to devour her; she hadn't felt like this since the night she had bailed out into the freezing cold from that damn Boeing.