"Good," she murmured to herself. "good! Good!"
"Where to, buddy?" the cab driver queried as Tim Jameson slipped into the back seat.
"Green Woods," he replied, "61 Risely Lane."
"Quite a ways out."
"Yeah, I know. Could you hurry please?"
"Keep your shirt on buddy, the traffic through Chicago's real bad tonight. It's gonna take awhile. Ain't no way I can hurry. And in this heat, Christ, ain't it somethin'?"
"Yeah," the young husband mumbled as the cab crawled slowly out of the congested airport ramp. It had been more than an hour now since his arrival in Chicago and he was hot and tired, anxious to get home to Susan. He still hadn't called her, and by this time he didn't care. All he wanted to do was get home, take a hot shower, and fall into bed.
The driver had been right, of course, the traffic was incredible, worse than he had ever seen, and with a deep sigh the young husband leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.
Christ, he thought with irritation, it's gonna take me about as much time to get from the airport to the house as it took me to fly from Boston. Couldn't even find a phone in working order at the airport to call home. What a joke.
The house on Risely Lane was bursting with activity now. All four of the wild orgiasts were drunk again, having polished off the Scotch and made a solid dent in the stock of gin. They had raided the ice-box and made sandwiches to give them enough energy to combat the wearying effects of all the alcohol, and now they were sprawled naked amidst the wreckage that had been the living room. Susan was nearly delirious from all the drinking and the wild vengeance she had taken on her belongings. Her light brown hair was a tangled disarray, and her eyes glittered with a bizarre kind of satisfaction. Her life had become a total nightmare during the past two days, and yet out of the abyss of her degradation, she had experienced many overwhelming discoveries, not only sexual, but psychological, particularly in her enforced realization of her bottled-up anger. She gazed drunkenly around the room, shocked to see the extent of damage that the four of them had wreaked on the furniture and walls. Huge purple stains blotched the white walls where full bottles of wine had been hurled against them. Tables, chairs, and pillows were broken and destroyed. The carpet was heavily stained with the cum of their sexual excesses, and bits of shattered china and porcelain lay everywhere from broken vases, ashtrays and other objects.
"Say, man," Sal slurred drunkenly from his position on the floor, "what the hell time is it? I'm supposed to be at that goddamn family gathering tonight."
"Too late now," Art said, laughing. "Looks like you're stuck here for the night."
"Shit, I can't do that. I gotta get goin'."
The muscular dark man made an attempt to get up, but was too tipsy with alcohol to manage it. He slumped back onto the floor with a heavy sigh.
"You can't make it, man. So just relax," the younger man remarked. "Besides, the night's still young. You can still get your pecker up, can't you?"
"Sure man, but hell, this room's so full of broken glass we're gonna cut ourselves to ribbons."
"We'll go to another room, that's all. There's a real nice bedroom on the second floor we ain't even touched yet."
At once Tanya got up, picked her way delicately through the chaos, and started up the stairs. Sal rose too, though with difficulty, and stumbled toward the hallway stairs.
"You too, Susie," the young captor said. "We ain't through with you yet."
Wearily the young wife pulled herself to her feet and made her way through the cluttered living room toward the stairs. By the time she entered the bedroom, she found Tanya lying there, her young body sprawled lewdly across the bed. Sal lurched across the room and threw himself down, burying his head in Tanya's eagerly proffered pussy, and began to suck at her glistening cunt-lips with drunken abandon while the curvaceous blonde squealed and wriggled excitedly. Susan stood numbly in the doorway, watching them, as Art came in behind her and embraced her, clamping his hands on the firmly resilient mounds of her breasts and rubbing them harshly, at the same time grinding his pelvis against her smooth white buttocks.
"Gonna take you up the ass now, baby, the way Sal did," he whispered in her ear. "I ain't had my prick up there yet."
Susan was too exhausted to protest, although her heart sank when she realized she would be abused yet again in that still-aching rectal passage. As the cruel young man rotated his hips behind her, she could feel his penis begin to stiffen as it rubbed the tender place where her buttocks met her thighs, and despite her weariness, she began to anticipate the excitement she knew she would experience when he entered her and began to saw away at her anal canal. Suddenly her alcohol-clouded brain began to crave having the bestial young man fuck her from behind. Her lush young body quivered from head to foot as she began to wriggle her ass-cheeks lewdly back against his rapidly hardening cock-shaft. Her conversion had been so total in the last two days that she now greedily welcomed the possibility of yet another explosion of animal sensuality, longed to have Art's thickly distended cock rammed up inside her loins, whether from the vagina or the rectum. What did it matter now?
Suddenly Art pushed her forward so that she fell onto the bed next to Tanya and Sal, and yanked her legs wide apart so harshly that a stab of pain shuddered up through her entire body. But she didn't resist. She had come not only to endure but even to love the pain for it wasn't pain in the purest sense of the word, but a pain mixed with a torturous kind of pleasure that she desperately wanted, desperately needed.
"Oh give it to me, Art, shove it up into my ass! Hurry!" she found herself moaning.
The young drifter smiled triumphantly to himself, knowing his perversion of the formerly innocent young bride was now complete. Yesterday she had fought like a tiger to resist him, and now, now she was pleading for him to hurt her, fuck her, torture her, anything he wanted! He had done it again, and his cock was stiff as steel with desire and jerking frantically straight out from his dark tangle of pubic hair, aching to thrust into the tiny brown opening between Susan's undulating buttocks. With no further preparation, he suddenly threw himself on top of her and snaked his hand down to position his obscenely lurching shaft at the puckered anal entrance. Then, with a vicious flick of his hips, he bored into it, forcing his gigantic penis through the tiny ring without so much as a drop of spittle to lubricate the way.
"Aaaaaaieeerrrgggghhhh!!!" the young wife screeched in utter torment. She hadn't expected it would hurt this much! At least Sal had prepared her somewhat for his sodomizing, using his finger and some spit to ease the way, but Art was knifing into her with no lubricant whatsoever. His massively swollen cock was already halfway up her hot rectal channel, and even the remains of Sal's cum that was still lodged deep in her anal passage did nothing to soften the burning torture of his entry. Her violated anus felt as if it were on fire, or as if a red-hot poker had been thrust up inside! It was horrible, and this sudden explosion of raw pain made the young housewife cry in agony. "Pleeeeaasseeee!!! It huuurrrttttssss!!!"
"Good," Art snarled drunkenly, "that's how I like it. It ain't no fun if it don't. Dig it sweetheart, life hurts, too. Like this!"
He shoved the thick length of his cock all the way in to the hilt with a tissue-bruising lunge that elicited a hoarse moan of painful protest from the degraded young bride. Surely he would tear her apart! She couldn't stand it, not a minute more!