In this same living room that had been her pride and joy, where the elite had sipped brandy and mingled with dignified, upper class pleasure, she was being turned into an animal by perverted sex. She mewed her distress and at the same time felt rich, racing thrills begin to shoot from her calves to her shoulders. "Oh, no," she wailed.
"Why, you bitch," he cried happily. "You're going to come for my cock." He drove her harder and faster, his prick a blazing sex friction inside her body heating up her ass tissues to white hotness. At the same time he ran his long finger inside her cunt, pressing it on her clit.
She cried out in agony. Agony at having to surrender to pleasure. She hated to come for him, but she had no choice. Her muscles slowly locked as she gasped in unbelieving horror and then she paid off for him with rich throbs of her cunt and sphincter, servicing him with female excitement, pleasuring him to know and feel her sexy submission.
"Oh, Jesus, go, you hot-ass cunt," he breathed and she bleated her own embarrassment but kept on clipping and making spasm of her unlocked passion.
Instead of lessening, her spasms of orgasm got stronger. She gave a cry of distress that was almost a sob-because it felt so good. She gave him a half dozen squeezes that made him gasp as his cock felt her sphincter tighten, and rich, lascivious pleasure possessed her whole body. She'd never demonstrated so much pleasure in sex to any man, not even her husband.
"Why, you ass-crazy bitch!" he exulted. "I've found your button."
"No, no."
But he didn't hear her. As she went slack, he came, thrilled to the height of his passion by her deep response. He forced his cock as high in her channel as it would go, froze and gave soft cries of ultimate delight. His jism spumed into her ass, high inside of her. It was so strong it almost felt like an enema, the warm, silken come washing and rinsing in her. She was so weak from her orgasm that she slid off the table and the two of them crumpled to the floor, Roy hanging on her back, his cock still rinsing her body.
They lay there, and she felt she'd reached the nadir of her existence, to be held down on her own living room carpet with an unwanted male prick gushing off in her body.
He didn't stay long after that. He asked her the usual questions about whether she'd searched in new places for the money her husband had stolen and hid before he died in the accident on the lake while fishing. He'd been an official of the Trust Department of the local bank and had dipped into several funds. Roy told her they'd just begun to investigate when Richard had died.
"We know he didn't spend the money. He never left town and he didn't buy anything unusual, or have any stock certificates, or gamble. That means he turned it into cash and hid it somewhere in your house."
She'd known nothing about it. The shock of the investigation came on the heels of the shock of his death and she sometimes thought she'd go mad from the double tragedy.
Fortunately, the bank had hushed it up, hoping to find the money and avoid publicity. She had amply proved she wasn't a part of it, nor had any knowledge of what Richard had done. All she could tell them was that he'd been nervous and irritable for some months before his death.
She'd looked hard for the money. She had to. The bank would file against Richard's estate and take everything she had, including his insurance money if she didn't find it. She'd lose the house, the two Mercedes, everything…
She got her pants back up and faced Roy. Her behind really hurt. It was as if the pain eased during the excitement of anal intercourse, but after it was over it sure left its mark-an ache and a sense of abuse all through her loins.
"So-sometimes I don't think you want me to find the money," she told him. "I think you'd rather do-that disgusting thing to me and keep the case open."
Roy grinned. "Let's say I'm not in a hurry. Neither is the bank. I'm the best man in the state and they know it. As long as I tell 'em we can probably get that money, they'll ride with me. Easily a couple of more months. Maybe more."
"Get out of here!"
"I'm going, I'm going," he said. He purred like a big cat now that he'd made that mind-blowing sperm deposit up her ass. "Keep in touch."
After he left, she wept. Then she went to her bedroom and began to pack. Today's sex had been the final blow. She couldn't submit to any more of his blackmail. She realized he was right about training her rear. Today she'd felt an unholy, savage excitement in having that stiff prick ream her anus. Almost as if part of her had joined with him in the humiliation of her body. Roy Switzer was turning her into a sodomite-a disgusting pervert.
She started to call her sister, Amy, who lived a few blocks away. Amy didn't know any of this, but maybe it was time to tell her. The whole thing was so shocking, after the high reputation the Mortons had, that Paula hadn't been able to say anything to Amy or anyone else. About the missing money. About what Roy did to her. She certainly couldn't tell her mother and father. Her father was a former mayor and headed the Community Fund Drive-he was a local power figure and the scandal would kill him for sure.
Yet she couldn't call Amy. She sat by the telephone and her butt hurt and she cursed the obscene young D.A. investigator. Paula almost never used swear words.
Amy had married a lesser man, an older man, and had no social standing in Meadow Falls. As a result, Amy was jealous of her, and Paula knew if Amy got hold of it Amy would grind Paula's face in the dirt. She might even tip off the newspapers, to see her "bigshot sister" as she called Paula, humiliated, never mind their parents.
Paula finished packing and loaded the silver Mercedes. All she knew was that it was time to leave Meadow Falls, get out of this horrible hell before she went crazy…
After he left Paula Morton, Roy Switzer drove his car down the street and parked it to watch the house. It was dark now and he was far enough away not to be spotted. He made one phone call from his car unit and then waited. 'very shortly fingernails scratched on the glass of the car door and it opened and Amy Lail slid into the passenger door. She wore a chocolate pants suit. Roy marveled again at the fullness of the woman's tits. Amy Lail was not as good-looking as her sister, but she was still quite a sexy dish, somewhat younger. Paula had perfect proportions, shoulders, breasts, waist, belly, thighs and butt. Amy's breasts were too large for her slimmer figure and her ass was too small, but it was a turn-on, perfectly shaped.
"Are you sure she's gonna leave town?" asked Amy.
"I'm sure."
"She tell you?"
"Of course not, nerd-head." He squeezed her thigh. "I know because I'm an expert as to what people do under pressure."
"Maybe she's going to go where the money is."
"No way. She hasn't the faintest idea. But the bank will pull the chain if she shows up missing. I can't afford that."
"You men know it all. I say she's got the money."
"I say you've got the money. You fucked her husband and sweet-talked him into stealing it."
She glared at him. Then she laughed. "You're half right. Richard and I screwed up a storm at his place on the lake. Paula never liked camping. But he never tipped me one word on the money."
"Listen, Amy. As far as I'm concerned you're in this up to your sexy little ass. More than her."
Amy was no Paula. The horny D.A. investigator intrigued her and delighted her. She'd readily agreed to help keep an eye on her sister.
"So why am I here?"
"Two reasons, hot hips. First, if she takes off I want you to follow her."
She complained about that, pointing out that she had a husband who'd soon be home from his filling station looking for dinner. Roy said he'd cover that. Amy's husband knew something was up and was fascinated by Roy's questions. He was a gossipy old man, so Roy hadn't told him what was going on, but Roy knew he'd cooperate.