He began to grind it experimentally back and forth, and the pressure Kathy felt as he entered her suddenly blended with the intense humiliation she felt and slowly but surely turned to an oddly rising sexual stimulation. She moved experimentally back against him, arching her body, thrusting her buttocks up and outward, rotating them in tiny teasing circles, meeting Mark's forward ones. Oh, God, she thought again, as a helpless ecstasy rose deep within her throat, this was horrible… horrible… but, at the same time, wickedly beautiful to be used and fucked in the ass like a common whore. There was agony and ecstasy, all whirled together in one great sensual moment, and Kathy thought, in spite of her initial revulsion, that the last few hours had been just that, agony and ecstasy, and she had lived through the most sensuously exciting moments of her life while poor Art had endured the worst. Someday, she thought, she would explain to Art, and make everything up to him, and she would let him do just this back in her rectum and he would be happy as he had never been before, but she knew he was miserable, but there wasn't really anything she could do about it, or was there?
The boy's sperm-bloated balls smacked hard down against the slavishly kneeling Kathy's cunt as his thick, fuzz-nested cock sank deep up inside her rectal passage, pushing almost to her pelvis. He was ready to cum, holding back for just a moment. He withdrew, pulling his prick out almost to the tip, then with a loud grunt he fucked it deep up into her belly again, as she moaned aloud with the exquisite joy she felt.
Then Mark began to jerk in a wild spasm of intense pleasure as the white hot sperm spurted the length of his thrusting, pulsing rod, to gush forth in a delicious torrent into Kathy's now openly accepting little rectum. The now half insane young woman half-moaned, half-screamed as the boiling white liquid surged hotly up through her waiting bowels and she thought, Oh my God, I'm cumming, too.
She felt the boy's final withdrawal as he pulled his now limp cock from her rectum with a slight wet sucking noise that sounded as though a cork were being pulled, and then the two collapsed, completely spent; Mark panting for breath as he lay by her side, Kathy covered with sweat, but weak and happy and strangely satisfied.
Kathy would have liked to fall asleep – just to close her eyes and sink into a sweet oblivion which would bring her back to strength and reality – but as she dozed off, a blood curdling scream brought her back to the hear and now. She raised her weary head and saw that it was poor Art who had uttered the horrendous cry. And now he had slumped forward again, all strength gone, a shadow of the former strong and proud man that Kathy had married. Again Kathy wondered just what had happened to Art, to make him behave this way. But she was too tired, too confused, to worry about it. She would sleep awhile, she told herself. And when she awoke, perhaps she would understand all that was going on around her…
CHAPTER TEN
The music had stopped, and the crowd grew impatient until the amplifiers crackled and sizzled and far away in the distance, no one knew where, a sound became discernibly audible. Sitting near the stage, Robert jumped to his feet, his face a show of gleeful revenge. This was it! He slipped his tennis shoes back on, threw his shirt over his shoulder, and headed up the hill. It had cost him a lid of dope, but it would be worth it, just to show that smart-ass Jim that he was just a stupid, blundering fourteen year-old kid who'd do a job for five bucks only to be insulted.
If his guess was right, and he'd be willing to bet his last nickel on it, the sounds coming over that microphone would set the woods on fire!
Inside the cabin, Art had slumped to the ground once again, lying in a pathetic heap like a pile of old clothes. Jim looked at him with disgust, then went over to shake him by the shoulders.
"Where am I?" muttered Art, opening his eyes, blinking with the effort.
"Just don't want you to miss the show. Our star for the day is… Mrs. Art McGuire!" mimicked the blonde haired boy, feigning a microphone in his hand, gesturing as if on stage before a crowd, not realizing that thousands of people were indeed listening.
Art shook his head, wondering what had happened to him and why. How had they prevailed on Kathy to put on this obscene exhibition – and in front of him? It was the dope, he told himself… that damned marijuana. That's what was making his dear Kathy act like this. He had feared all along that she could be provoked to an outrageous sensuality, always had that streak in her, but this? It was beyond any nightmare he had ever imagined.
"Stop!" screamed Art, unable to watch any more of this humiliating display of disgust. "Immunity… I'll grant you immunity… anything, just don't rape my wife again!" He felt his knees buckling under him and closed his eyes. The whole room, the whole woods, the valley seemed to echo his own words. He chalked it up to anxiety, but continued his pleading. "I'll let you get off, anything you want… just let her go!"
Down in the valley, the crowd stopped its milling around, beer cans immobilized in mid-air, couples lying in embrace under trees sat up straight; everyone listened. Where was it coming from? The stage was bare, for it was in-between acts. It was a joke, it had to be a joke.
"How the hell do we know you're telling the truth?" returned Jim. "How do we know you won't turn the cops on us as soon as we leave?"
"My word," pleaded Art. "You have my word. There are witnesses… look they're five of us here…"
"But we wouldn't want to leave the little woman high and dry, now would we Art?" insisted Jim.
They drew numbers.
Jim was the first in line, unzipping his fly as he crossed the room. He bent over Kathy and whispered, "Come on, lady, do your stuff," taking her hand and guiding it to the jerking protuberance still hidden by the stiff cotton of his levis. "Take it out," he ordered, and Kathy drew forth his massive cock, feeling it stiffen in her clutch. She began to manipulate the foreskin, easing it back over Jim's now swollen cock, pulling it forward again. She ran her fingernail along the rigid flesh, along the vein the stood out beneath it, her fingernails scratching gently along its surface to send shocks of rapture through his loins, and Kathy rocked back and forth, massaging Jim's erect cock, thrilling to Jim's pleasure, responding to his every motion. Oh, she thought as she had before, I'm making him so happy. I am so happy. Everybody's happy but poor Art.
That made her want to cry; she loved Art so, and here she was, making everyone else happy and she couldn't do anything for her own dear husband. She continued to stroke Jim's cock with one hand while she wiped a tear from her eye with the other.
"Ooooh, does that make you happy, Jim?" she cooed.
The valley roared with laughter.
And Mark, too, she thought, looking up to see him standing beside her. Without waiting to be asked, she reached out and herself unzipped Mark's fly, drawing his thick cock out just as she had drawn out Jim's. With ecstatic little mewls of pleasure that sounded like a cat in heat, she caressed it, too, into a hard, erect mass of flesh.
She struggled to sit up, but Mark pushed her back on the pillow, then knelt over her, his legs straddling her shoulders. "Take it in your mouth," he ordered, as she continued to stroke his rigidly pulsating hardness. "Come on, Kathy, suck it!" His voice sounded harsh and gruff, unlike the gentle, mild-mannered Mark who'd picked her up… when was it they went for that nice bike ride?