My cunt was filled with ten inches of hot, throbbing cock. The fit was so tight I thought I would scream.
Inside, I was tense. In knots.
Repeatedly, I’d come to the brink of orgasm and then failed. The harder I was fucked, the more frustrating it was for me. This affair was turning out like all the others.
“Fuck me harder, harder!” I forced myself to beg, even though the phallic jackhammer splitting my thighs was already killing me.
Despite my suffering, I was not yet ready to give up my quest for an orgasm. Through the agony, I wanted to come so bad I could taste it.
To emphasize my willingness to go to the limit no matter how much it hurt, I wrapped my legs around the hard-fucking owner of the hard-on splitting my guts, yanking him into me even deeper. I could feel his balls broiling against the lips of my pussy.
“Holy shit, Angie,” he cursed my name, “you’re twisting my Goddamn prick off!”
“Just shut up and fuck me, Dick Tracy,” I masked my inner turmoil and purred. “If I wreck your pistol, I’ll get you a new one. They’re doing wonderful things with vinyl these days.”
That brought a lopsided grin even to the craggy face of the lieutenant. Roy Parker had a reputation for being a no-nonsense cop, but he was just a big goofy kid once he got his cock in my pussy. Let’s face it, the most famous cop in the city — almost a cinch to be elected the next District Attorney — was just nuts about me.
And, in most ways, I was pretty crazy about him too. The only problem was that “most” does not, comprise 100% of the pie. At the bottom-line I had a glaring deficiency that warped my whole existence.
I couldn’t come when a man fucked me. Only masturbation could draw forth the squeal of ultimate release which otherwise eluded me.
Why beat around the bush about it? Frigid is what they call it. I was frigid.
But that wasn’t the entire story. Had I been just normally frigid, with no interest in sex, I might have cheerfully become an old maid building her own little empire in an upstairs library. Alas, things were not that simple.
To my utter dismay, I was a frigid woman who was constantly turned on by sex. When my husband, Tom, couldn’t satisfy me, I went out looking for other men in self-defense.
In the beginning, I’d been sure my lack of fulfillment was all Tom’s fault. However, after a series of affairs without a single orgasm, I was forced to sadly acknowledge the blame was mine.
Still, despite batting zero, I never stopped searching for the perfect fuck. Most of the time I could still psych myself up that the next man was going to be the one to make the difference in my life.
It wasn’t any lack of love for my husband that caused my many affairs. Truthfully, I loved him a great deal but, unfortunately, through no fault of his, just short of orgasm with him. Marriage could give me all the material comforts, but it couldn’t provide the climax I so desperately craved.
Of course, so far, adultery hadn’t been any more fruitful than monogamy. Even though a handful had brought me to the brink, no man’s plunging cock had ever succeeded in pushing me into the orgasmic abyss.
Frequently I wished that I could just turn my back on it all. Say, “What the hell, there’s more in life besides sex.”
But I could never make myself believe it.
The more I tried to get away from sex, the more I thought about it. My mind would become uncontrollably infested with explicit images of cocks and pussies. I’d get so horny that I’d have to masturbate. After I’d made myself come with my own hand, I’d optimistically convince myself that it was all friction and any man’s cock could bring the same result if I gave it a chance.
So, shamelessly, I gave tock after cock the chance to validate my theory. The fact that they always turned up losers had never stopped me from trying again.
Yes, I was starting to wonder if this constant playing around was worth it. Not only was I getting no orgasm from it, if my husband found out I might lose the security of my marriage and home.
When I’d hooked up with Roy Parker, I thought more than with any of the others that he might be the one to finally light my fire. He was such a man’s man, as a woman I couldn’t resist him.
Roy was so dynamic — a man on the rise. Ruggedly handsome. A hard body. A cock the size of a stallion’s. If he couldn’t take me over the edge, what man could?
And to his everlasting credit, the lieutenant brought me close several times.
Did I say close? Teetering.
Please let me fall! I prayed over and over again to myself as Roy rammed his enormous cock to the depths of my pussy. Let me go down the big black hole!
But, right up to the present, it was all in vain. No matter how hard the lieutenant fucked me, I couldn’t come. The tense pain passed as I realized the obvious and I felt like I was hanging in mid-air.
On the top, Roy couldn’t have been any the wiser. He’d reached the point in fucking where the male thinks about nothing but turning his nuts inside out. There’s nothing in the universe but the cum he’s about to explode.
“Unnnnh… unnnnhhh… unnnnhhh,” he grunted in triplicate as he ground the tip of his dick into the farthest reaches of my pussy. His cock seemed like it had grown another inch in the last second.
Convinced I was never going to come, I felt like a robot, programmed to make all the right movements without emotion. When Roy made his ultimate thrust, I automatically responded by wiggling my ass.
My body had never felt more efficient. Or cold. “Come, you bastard,” I dutifully cried, “come in my cunt!”
“Abhhhhhhh!” he moaned like a speared whale. Suddenly he was coming a ton up my pussy. The excess was already dripping from my thighs.
“Oh, your cum is so hot,” I told him. And I wasn’t lying — it was. If only it had made any difference to me at this point. Chicken soup would have had the same effect.
“I know it, baby,” he arrogantly panted. “All of us cops shoot hot lead out of our pistols.”
“I thought you police sharpshooters were supposed to aim between the eyes,” I cracked, not between the lips.
Unfortunately, my joke did not divert him from asking the question I most dreaded. “How was it for you?” he murmured in my ear as he worked his dick around in the sloppy goo of my cunt.
“Terrific — it was terrific,” I lied. “You’ve got a marvelous cock.”
“Then why didn’t you moan?” he persisted with his unwanted inquiry. “I like the women I fuck to moan.”
“Then I’m not the first?” I tried to tease him out of it.
“Put a lid on that bullshit!” he barked like he was browbeating a suspect. “You didn’t come and you know it, Angie. Spill it.”
Sadly, I nodded my head. I was on the verge of admitting to him that I was frigid. But, then, when he said it first, I couldn’t go through with it.
“That’s it!” he exclaimed, like he had just solved the crime of the century. “It’s not my fault. It’s you — no man can satisfy you. You’re frigid!”
“Negative, it’s you. You just don’t know how to satisfy me,” I impulsively upped the ante in order to conceal my secret.
“What’re you talking about?” he replied with gruff defensiveness. I was getting to him.
“I’m surprised you haven’t thought of it yet,” I taunted him. The intrigued expression on his face told me that he had forgotten all about my alleged frigidity.
“What?” he blurted like a little boy trying to guess his birthday present.
“A woman has more than a single tight hole between her legs,” I met my own dare. With that, I grabbed his big dong out of my cunt and began rubbing it against the puckering knot of my anus.
“You want me to fuck you in the ass, Angie?” the normally hard-bitten cop gushed in awe like a kid confronted with all the ice cream he could eat.
“It’s the only thing that makes me come,” I lied, wishing that even such limited orgasmic privileges were mine to enjoy. Other than by my own hand, I was a washout.
“It’s gonna hurt,” he leeringly promised me.
“It better,” I shot back, too far in now to back out.
“Okay, then, lift your legs straight up in the air and spread your cheeks,” Roy got efficiently down to business now that I had burned my last bridge behind me in my attempt to save face.
Rocking back on my shoulders and neck, I did as he said. Practically in a head-stand, I parted my legs until the thighs ached. When I seized my buns and pried them open, my exposed asshole seemed to unzipper.
Looking through the exaggerated V of my legs, I had a perfect view of Roy’s assault on my second fuck-hole. It was scary imagining the taking of his full ten inches up my narrow shit-pit.
But even though I was frightened, my actions continued to be heedless of my safety and dignity. It was degrading, but I just couldn’t turn off the switch.
So, like an alien to my own ears, that’s me huskily sighing, “Hurry up and fuck me in the ass, Roy. Fill my tight asshole with your big, strong cock.”
His prick was as hard again as it had been prior to coming in my pussy. The prospect of getting a little chocolate cock had endowed the 35-year-old police lieutenant with the recuperative powers of the teenage punks he claimed were responsible for half the crime in the city.
He grunted like he was about to take a plunge into icy water, and then made his move. His thrusting hard-on was abruptly blotted out by the fringe of my pubic hair as it moved on target.
I gasped with pain as the barbed head of Roy’s prick stabbed into the center of my anus and achieved an inch of penetration. I didn’t need to see what was happening when I could feel it this acutely.
Besides, what my eyes didn’t provide, my runaway imagination had started to supply. As Roy steadily worked his huge cock up my asshole, my mind became uncontrollably engorged with the act’s mirror image.
Those were my inflamed anal ridges I was watching being roughly pulled back and forth so Roy could wriggle more and more of his brutal dick inside my tenderest hole. Without any special lubrication, the friction of his cock fucking my sass seemed to produce sparks.
There was no need for me to say anything further. I’d lured him inside my butt, and now that he had his prick in, he would stop for nothing. He was going to fuck me all ten inches in the ass, and then come like a river in my bowels.
When I felt the first drop of his cum in my colon, I’d have to remember to moan so he’d think I was, having an orgasm. I’d never get him off my back unless I satisfied his male pride by pretending that he had made me come. Then I could get him out of here, at last, and work on my problem by myself.
However, as Roy penetrated deeper and deeper, I started to lose all my confidence. I became convinced that I couldn’t successfully fake a climax and my secret would be out.
God, if only I could come, I lacerated myself.
Then, instinctively dropping my hand to my pussy, I realized that I could. It would just be masturbating, but Roy was so busy plowing a furrow up my ass that he would never notice I was playing with my cunt.
Although inch after inch of his cock buggered into me, I managed to shut Roy out of my consciousness and concentrate on my pussy. With two fingers squeezing my clitoris, I began the ascent of the orgasmic ladder the only way I knew how.
I didn’t even feel it by the time Roy had penetrated to the hilt. His balls squashing against my cheeks were the only way I had of knowing. By then, the good feelings pouring from my fingered cunt had made me all but oblivious to the bar of iron up my ass.
The brutal images of cornholing had been replaced in my consciousness by my slender fingers expertly giving my aching pussy what it wanted. My cunt glistened like a diamond as it triggered the flowing mechanisms within the interior.
Then came the spasms the expansions and contractions and I knew I was on the right road at last. I was going to come!
“Oooooooh, it feels so goooooood,” I moaningly congratulated myself. The uninformed Roy, of course, thought I was complimenting him.
“All in a night’s work, babe,” he grinned lopsidedly, certain from my long-awaited moan that he had finally made me come. As long as he didn’t notice my gouging hand at my cunt, nothing I would do would dissuade him.
I didn’t have to act now. I was really coming. My pussy was teeming with the chaotic release of bottled-up sexual energy.
Really showing off now that he was sure he’d made me come, Roy began operating his cock like a battering ram. Huge thuds boomed in my bowels as he brutally slammed away toward his conclusion.
“If you like it now,” he boasted, “wait until I come.”
Closing my eyes and gritting my teeth, I thrust my entire hand into my gaping pussy and held on for dear life. By the time Roy finally came, I was fist-fucking myself.
There wasn’t enough space between my rectum and my twat to keep Roy’s cock and my knuckles out of each other’s way. With the addition of about a pint of cum to the limited stricture of my anus, some kind of collision was inevitable.
When it happened, the result was even more extreme than I had anticipated. By chance, the striking surface of my knuckles slammed through the meaningless membrane against the withdrawing head of his dick. Roy’s shock was so great he instinctively jumped back. When his cock popped loudly out of my asshole, we both went flying backward like losers in a tug-of-war.
We landed on opposite sides of the bed, out of each other’s sight. On my side there was already a puddle forming on the floor from my cum-leaking anus.
“Roy,” I called, when I didn’t hear him stir, “are you all right?”
I could just see the scandal if he was found naked in my bedroom with a broken neck. I’d made up my mind that if I could just get him out of here this would be my last affair.
However, before I could call his name again, I was distracted. It was a noise — I dared not guess what it was.
I looked everywhere for the origin of the noise. Everywhere, that is, except for the source that could signal the direst of consequences.
Finally I had run out of possibilities. Having no alternative, I looked toward the door and anticipated the worst.
Yes, to my horror it was open. What I’d heard was the door opening. Suddenly a man filled up the space.
“Tom,” I called my husband’s name, certain I had been caught cheating, “I can explain everything.”
His response was to stride wordlessly toward me from the doorway. I didn’t have to confirm it was Tom’s face because I was too busy looking at the muzzle of the gun in his hand.
I opened my mouth to speak again, but the words were literally crammed back down my throat. The thick barrel of the gun suddenly engorged my mouth, penetrating so deeply it brought tears to my eyes.
Oh, Jesus, I hysterically thought, Tom’s gone crazy with jealousy! He’s going to blow my head off!
Fighting to see past the tears of pain, I looked up to beg with my eyes for mercy. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified anew. The man I saw was not my husband.
“Just don’t make a move, bitch,” the burly bearded man with the gun in my mouth barked. “If you do it won’t bother me any to make minestrone out of your pretty little brains.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I was so tense I thought I would shatter, making that one false move that could cost me my life.
“Okay, now,” the guy said, “slowly — very slowly — I want you to get up on your knees.”
Agonizingly I tried to do as he said, but I was paralyzed.
“Come on,” he insisted. “Get on your knees and suck my Magnum like you were sucking my cock.”
Risking instant decapitation, I shook my head that I couldn’t do it. I was a helpless puddle on the floor.
“Calm down,” he surprised me by taking a more civil approach. “You behave yourself and you won’t get hurt. You’re not the one we want.”
I saw, what he was talking about when two guys came out of nowhere and swept to the side of the bed where Roy had fallen. Whatever these men wanted had to do with Roy.
“Parker’s not here!” one of them behind the bed yelled.
“But we all saw him land there,” another man reminded the others of their earlier eavesdropping. “He’s got to be around here someplace. Parker’s a slick cop, but he’s not magic.”
They started to form a more comprehensive search. However, it was aborted with dramatic suddenness.
“Don’t move, you bastards,” the voice of the search’s object filled the room like the hiss of a steam-pipe. “I can waste any one of you right from where I’m at.”
Looking down, I saw Roy lying on his belly under the bed, clutching his .38 Police Special in front of him. When he’d figured out we had visitors, he must have grabbed the pistol from his pants on the floor and then rolled under the bed until he could make his move.
“Who are these people, Roy?” I blurted the minute my bearded assailant thought his chances might improve if he removed his gun from my mouth.
“They’re kidnappers,” Roy informed me in a rapid-fire voice, the urgency of the situation raising it a pitch above its usual tone. “They’re trying to get me out of circulation so I can’t become District Attorney. Every criminal in town, from gangsters all the way down to punks, is scared shitless of what I’m going to do to the underworld.”
All of a sudden, one of the kidnappers got up enough nerve to make a move. Two shots fired out, one from across the room, one from under the bed. It was impossible for me to tell which was first.
My eyeballs were seared from the abrupt flash of the exploding gunpowder. For several seconds I was blinded. When I could see again, the scene had dramatically changed.
Blood seeped from under the bed like a miniature river, and Roy Parker was lying in it. He’d been hit. He wasn’t moving.
In the middle of the bedroom, the other half of the target was clutching his leg and hopping around. For the first time I noticed he was howling with pain. He’d been wounded, too, but looked like he’d gotten off a lot less seriously than his opponent in the shoot-out.
“Come on,” the bearded one hissed to his accomplices, “we’ve got to get out of here. Those shots must have woke up everybody for miles. The cops’ll be here before we know it.”
“What about Parker?” the one who had not been wounded said. “He looks like he’s had it.”
“Leave him here,” the beard said. “He’s dead-weight now. We’re going to have our hands full just getting Jack out of here all right with his leg all shot up like that. Anyway, it doesn’t look like the lieutenant’ll be bothering us any more.”
“But we’re fingered,” the guy with the bullet in his leg rasped between moans of pain.
“Jack’s right,” the guy in the middle said to tile beard. “The girl’s seen everything. We’ve either got to take her with us or kill her on the spot.”
“Tough talk, Grady,” was the beard’s succinct reply. “Which will it be?”
My heart lodged in my mouth and stayed there when I realized that my life was the stake in some brutal dare between psychopathic criminals. I could be rubbed out like a hapless insect trekking in a schoolboy’s path.
Grady walked over toward me and pointed his pistol at my head. The sound of the hammer cocking was the loudest noise I’d ever heard.
There was a long and dreadful silence as I stared transfixed at the muzzle of the gun. It seemed like a shark that was coming to devour me.
What was worse, the man holding it kept giggling.
“Okay, Grady,” the man with the beard broke the eerie spell, “stop showing your pistol off to the lady and let’s go. Keep her and Jack in the middle so she can hold him up and can’t run. We’ll decide what to do with her after we get out of here.”
It kept running through my mind, as they rousted me from the floor and made me support their wounded compatriot. However, they had railroaded me out of the house and dumped me in the back of their van before I openly admitted the truth to myself. In the process of being blindfolded and bound and gagged I could scarcely ignore it.
At the last possible moment, just before they put some tape across my mouth, I muttered the obvious: “I’ve been kidnapped.”
“What’d she say?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know,” the bearded one said impatiently, “but I’m sure as hell not going to take this tape off to find out. I can already hear a siren. Tell Grady to give this heap the gas.”
The next sound was the roar of an engine followed by the screech of rubber peeling beneath us. We were moving forward, and fast. I wondered if I had seen home and family for the last time.
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