Needless to say, my pussy muscles never did snap back. From here on in it was clear sailing for his cock.
"Ummmmppphhh! Uuuummmmppphh! Ummmmmmppph!" he grunted as he took advantage of the wide opening between my legs.
But I was impatient. I wanted it faster. All I could think about now was getting Slaughter's cock all the way inside me.
I took drastic measures. I grabbed his egg-like balls and squeezed them as hard as I could, yanking them toward me.
Slaughter yowled in pain. He pitched forward. Abruptly I could feel his hairy nuts roughly scraping against the outer petals of my snatch.
Yes, the ape-like bastard was fucking me to the hilt. No cock had ever screwed me this deeply. I had just reached cloud nine and was orgasmically soaring higher.
"Come in me, you sonofabitch!" I screamed. "Come in my pussy the way you did in my daughter's!"
He was too far gone to speak coherently by now. His reply was a series of snorts and grunts. I was satisfied he was doing his best.
I could feel his huge prick tugging back and forth within my spasming cunt, chafing itself toward ejaculation. I wondered what would happen if I squeezed his scrotum again.
Only one way to find out. Grasping the pulsing sack, I clamped down on the churning orbs for all I was worth.
"Yeeeeeooooowww!" Slaughter howled with pain. However, his most significant response was that his cock simultaneously lurched, temporarily expanding another merciless inch.
I didn't have to let go of his balls. Even with my tight grip, they jumped away from my fingers. The wait was over.
The cum started to flow just as the bloodhounds began baying outside. Susan had arrived with the search party just as I was getting a cuntful of the rapist's jizz.
However, if I was worried about proving an explanation when the cops knocked down the door and discovered me like this, I needn't have. No, after all the risks I had taken, the law was playing it safe.
"We've got this place surrounded, Slaughter!" somebody called over a bullhorn. "Come out or we'll kill you."
"But my mother's in there!" I could hear Susan protesting.
"Shut up, kid," the cop snapped. "We know how to capture our own escaped convicts."
While we were still fucking, I could see Slaughter's normally dull eyes light up. As though I could read his mind through them, I immediately realized he was thinking hostage.
Fortunately, by now my cunt was like a swamp. Even Slaughter's massive dick would slip out easily enough with a good pull.
He apparently had noticed the same thing. Abruptly recolling from each other, we broke our genital lock and both dove for the gun which was still on the bed.
Slaughter was strong and powerful, but he was so muscle-bound he was slow. I easily beat him to the pistol, and had it cocked and pointed at him by the time he came up short.
"I'm taking you out of here," I said, with the gun aimed between his beady eyes.
"Over my dead body," he defiantly replied. "You'll have to kill me first, and I don't think you got the nerve, little momma. God is lookin' out for ol' Duke again. Now just hand over my hog-leg, and I'll be takin' you hostage. Just think of it as me doin' my job."
He reached his beefy paw out for the revolver as though he hadn't a thing to worry about. Gritting my teeth, I pulled the trigger and blew off the top of his head. As I stood there and watched him die, I could feel his sticky cum running down my legs.
Chapter Seven
There was no way we could live on the farm in peace after I shot Duke Slaughter. The publicity was enormous. After all, I, a mere woman, had succeeded in capturing a vicious criminal where half the cops in the state had failed.
The story had made the national news. Curiosity-seekers just wouldn't stop coming on our property to see where it had all happened. The previously isolated farm became a goldfish bowl for Susan and me.
"Let's get out of this place and start all over again," I said to Susan after a few weeks of this. "Move across the country and live somewhere where nobody knows us."
She readily agreed that it was a good idea. However, her rationale went even deeper than mine.
"I think I'm pregnant," my daughter finally confessed, after I'd noticed something was wrong and kept questioning her. "Starting yesterday is the second period I've missed."
"Slaughter?"
She nodded her head. "It has to be him. He's the only man I've fucked. Before him, you and the animals were the only ones I'd been having sex with, That's why I haven't been using any protection."
I couldn't help but flinch. How could everything have suddenly gone so wrong? When it rains, it pours, I grimly thought.
"Mother, are you all right?"
"Sure, honey, sure," I tried to reassure her. But inside I was trembling with apprehension.
One thing was sure. It was obvious our luck had run out here and we definitely had to get as far away from this place as possible. Our life on the farm had turned into a ghastly nightmare.
We sold the farm to a real-estate developer for cash on the barrel head, then loaded our worldly possessions into a van and just started driving. It was sheer flight.
The first couple of days we made six hundred miles by the time we stopped. On the third day, however, Susan developed all the symptoms of morning sickness and we weren't able to leave the motel room until noon. Then, the next day, it happened again.
On the fifth day there was a change in our luck. However, it was for the worse, even though Susan felt fine. In the middle of the most desolate stretch of road I've ever seen, the van broke down.
Neither of us knew the first thing about cam. All we could do was pray for some sympathetic motorist to come along and rescue us.
"When was the last car you saw, Susan?" I hopefully asked my glum daughter as we sat by the roadside in the scorching sun.
"Hours ago," she sighed in something that sounded like utter defeat. "To tell you the truth I can't remember any traffic since we got off the Interstate. I don't even think the Highway Patrol bothers with this God-forsaken highway."
"Somebody will come along," I said forlornly. "They have to."
"What makes you so sure they'll stop?"
"Because it's the decent thing to do," I said with a wavering voice.
"Since when does decency have anything to do with what people do," Susan contemptuously sneered.
"I'm positive you're wrong," I insisted, but inside I was wracked with doubt. My daughter had me feeling as though I were hopelessly naive to hold out a shred of hope.
"Okay," she said calmly, "here's a chance to see who's right. There's someone coming from the east."
I looked to my left. Sure enough, through the wavering lines of heat rising from the broiling asphalt road was the distorted form of something on wheels descending from the horizon.
We waited and waited for the lonely vehicle which seemed to be our only hope. During this interim Susan never displayed the slightest glimmer of hope. I prayed her pessimism was misplaced.
Then, gradually, the motorist neared us. It was a truck. We could see the exhaust of the diesel trailing behind the cab.
I waited breathlessly. Susan, on the other hand, was as cool as a cucumber. She apparently had no doubt how things were going to turn out and wasn't about to excite herself unnecessarily.
"Here it comes," I said with a false show of confidence, and stood up to stretch my thumb in the standard hitchhiking gesture.
Suddenly the cab of the truck was filling up the road. I could see the driver's face as clear as day. He didn't even look my way.
"There it goes," Susan noted glumly.
He hadn't even slowed down. It had been like we weren't even there.
"I hope you're satisfied," I turned and snapped at my daughter, as though she were somehow responsible for the selfishness of the trucker.