But side by side with the subsiding pleasure of the dying orgasm was an overwhelming guilt and shame. She hadn't actually been with Mike, and she couldn't imagine ever doing so. But the guilt was just as real. What would Mike think if he saw her fucking herself with a hair brush, and all the time calling his name?
The hair brush slipped out from between her pussy lips, and she let it lie where it fell, afraid to put her hands anywhere near her ever-hungry cunt. She was afraid of what might happen if she didn't stop herself now. Yet, what could possibly happen? Mike hated her, and he wouldn't have anything to do with her – even if she did want to fuck him.
It's loneliness, she told herself. I miss Dave, and that's all it is. Trish moaned, squirming with fuck-lust.
"Oh Ginny," she moaned. "How lucky to be broken in like that, to have that big cock jammed into your cunt and then to suck up all his cum."
Trish suddenly locked her jaw to block her own words. Nevertheless, the guilt she felt was no less troublesome. Trish decided then and there that she had to talk this whole thing out with Mike.
As she lay there thinking about her problem, she heard the front door slam. A moment later, Trish heard Mike call from the top of the stairs. His voice was full of hostility and sarcasm. "Hey, sister dear," he bellowed, "I think there's some talking that needs to be done here."
"What do you mean?" Trish asked, leaning against the door and feeling the vibration of her heart as it pounded.
"You know exactly what I mean," he replied. "I told Ginny to go out riding for a while so you and I could talk alone. I'm gonna take a shower. Come on up whenever you feel ready to listen."
Trish heard the bedroom door slam upstairs, and then the house grew painfully quiet. The only sounds seemed to be her own heart pounding violently and the ticking of the grandfather clock that stood in the hallway just outside her bedroom door. Somewhere in the hall she heard Dave's big, Irish wolfhound, O'Connell, sighing in his sleep. Everything else seemed so terribly still, and she couldn't understand why this made her so uneasy.
When she emerged from the room, Trish was looking around as if she expected some sort of ambush. "Oh, this is ridiculous," she scolded herself. "Mike and I are perfectly reasonable adults. We will just sit down and talk this out in that way."
Upstairs, she could hear the reassuring sound of his shower. And Trish decided that she would make herself more presentable. She went back to her room, brushed her long, black hair, and sprayed just the faintest mist of perfume at the angle of her throat and across her tits. Before she realized what she was doing, Trish had also applied a faint spray to her pussy hairs.
About halfway up the staircase she heard the sound of the shower stop. When she reached his door, Trish knocked.
"Come on in and make yourself comfortable." His voice was muffled by the closed door between his bedroom and the shower. "I'll be out in a minute."
Mike's tone had always bothered Trish. It was too confident, too self-assured, regardless of what situation he might be in. Here she had just caught him fucking his stepdaughter, and from his voice, they could be getting together to talk about mowing the lawn.
Trish was looking out the window toward the woods when the bathroom door opened behind her. She turned, prepared to confront her brother-in-law, but she was not ready for the sight that met her eyes.
Mike was stark naked. He had broad shoulders and a massive chest with narrow waist and hips. He was seven years older than Dave, but he had managed to pass the forty mark with no perceptible changes except for a distinguished touch of gray in the temples of his thick, curly black hair.
"Well, sister dear," he smirked, "are you ready for our little talk?"
As Trish stood in stunned silence, her mouth hanging open, she realized that height was not the only category in which her brother-in-law surpassed her husband. Standing this close, she realized that Mike's cock was at least an inch longer than Dave's, putting it at over eleven inches. The cockshaft itself had to be an inch larger in circumference than Dave's, and the cockhead was too much to be believed.
Animal, she thought to herself again when she saw that huge, wet, red prick-knob standing out.
Mike interrupted her. "I asked if you were ready." The cruel smile never left his lips. His eyes glittered cold, like sunlight on an ice field.
"What do you mean, ready? Ready for what?"
"For our little talk," Mike answered, moving forward easily, quietly, holding her paralyzed like a bird before a snake. "Actually," he continued, as Trish began backing up from him until she felt the window pane against her back, "I probably should have just called it my little talk. It's gonna be a one-way discussion because your mouth is gonna be so full of my cock that you won't be able to get a word in edgewise."
Mike finally reached her and took both of her wrists into one of his massive hands.
"Mike," Trish protested, "what do you think you're doing? Let go of me – right now!"
"You don't hear too well, do you?" His voice came out as a hissed and husky whisper. "I said I was gonna do all the talking here. You've got a whole lot more important stuff to do than jabber. So, what say you and I get on with the festivities?"
The brutal man yanked her up against his nakedness and clamped his open lips against her mouth, pressing harder and stabbing with his hot tongue until she finally had to tolerate it just for the sake of drawing a breath. The long, thick slab of Mike's tongue forced its way into her mouth until Trish thought she would choke on it.
Trish found herself wishing she had stayed in her bedroom and locked the door.
CHAPTER FOUR
Trish felt smothered. Her back was pressed so hard against the window that she feared any struggle might shatter the glass itself. She could feel Mike's massive cock shoving against her belly as if he were pressing a piece of iron pipe between them. The monster prick throbbed and quivered like a python seeking its prey.
"No!" she screamed, finally managing to pull her mouth free and trying at the same time to loosen his steel grip on her wrists. "You can't… you can't do this!"
Mike's icy smile remained, and his voice was just as cold as his stare.
"The hell I can't, you fucking little bitch slut," he growled, then he crushed her mouth again with his own hungry lips.
Trish's mind whirled with her vain frenzy to escape his grappling hold, but his long, pointed tongue reamed and sucked deep into her mouth. No, she thought, this is impossible. I can't be standing here while my husband's brother molests me. But even more earth shaking for the young woman was the way her own body was reacting to his attack. Even she was aware that the strength in her arms had diminished. Now the only were capable of resisting faintly, and even then only in brief, sporadic flutters that he easily managed to contain with the vise-like grip of one huge hand. Her guts were in a turmoil of lust, and she felt her cunt begin to quiver and drip in anticipation of being fucked by his cock. For an instant, she nearly surrendered to his attack, but fear sent a sudden surge of strength through her.
In one quick motion, Trish managed to lurch sideways out of his grip. The movement freed one of her hands, and as she jerked away she simultaneously slapped at his leering face with all her strength. She had not meant to claw him the way she did, but, two narrow welts on his cheek immediately began oozing blood. Her animalistic reaction died as quickly as it had begun, and she regretted scratching him.
"Fuck you, you Goddamned bitch!" Mike snarled, and then he struck her so hard that she dropped to the floor with her head ringing and her jaw aching. He reached down and hit her again, and she fell over onto her back.