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Authors: Nile J. Limbaugh
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corpulent person, the girl on the bed increased her thrashing and moaning. Totally naked now, he leaped astride her and drove his rigid member deep between her thighs.
“Oh, yes! Deeper! Deeper!” she cried as she bucked and tossed beneath him.
As he thrust ever more fiercely into her he felt as though he was floating backward away from her and watching from afar. Then the urgency of his lust diminished and he squinted his eyes as he looked down at her.
This bitch, he thought, they’re all the same. All they want is a stiff dick and lots of money. Or maybe money and then the dick. Or just the money. They don’t give a shit about the man on top of them. Whores! The lot of them are nothing but whores. Wives, girlfriends, no matter. They’re all alike.
He saw nothing but a red blur. The girl, the bed, the room had all disappeared into this weird red fog. But he knew where she lay. He could still feel her. Right there beneath him. Moaning and rolling back and forth as if she was actually enjoying herself. But he knew better. And he would teach this trollop a thing or two. He chuckled deep in his belly and reached behind him for the cutlass. Suddenly he stopped pumping and stood straight up above the spot where he knew she lay. He raised the cutlass over his head with both hands.
“Right, me lass. This is for all the boyos you’ve fucked over since you first spread your legs for the likes of one of us buccaneers!”
The red fog was suddenly blown away by the force of a frantic scream. Captain Blacketer froze with his arms in midair above his head.
“Manning, you motherfucker!” Sheila Hicks yelled. “Stop! What the hell is wrong with you? Untie me, you prick, and put down that sword. Have you lost your rabbit-assed mind?”
Manning Richards shook his head slowly back and forth, then looked down at Sheila where she lay beneath him. All the blood had drained from her face. She was so white Richards thought he could see through her skin to the skull beneath. She had drawn herself so tightly together that she was suspended between the four corners of the bed like a fiddle string. Richards tossed the cutlass to the floor and leaped from the bed.
“Did you hear me, you moron? Cut me loose! I don’t know why I agreed to meet you in this damn boatel in the first place. You’re nothing but a big, fat asshole.”
Richards hastened to release the frightened woman. “I’m sorry, Sheila, I don’t know what came over me. You know I wouldn’t hurt you. Honest.”
“Honest, my ass, you cocksucker.” She sat up and started massaging her wrists and ankles. “That’s the last time anybody ties me to anything. Nuts! You gotta be fucking nuts! Don’t bother me anymore. You’re crazier than a shit-house rat!”
Sheila Hicks pulled on her clothes and stormed from the room, leaving a muddled Manning Richards sitting in the middle of the floor wondering what had come over him.
Gerhart parked his car at the curb, walked up the short flight of stairs and punched the doorbell. He could hear a vacuum cleaner running somewhere in the house. Receiving no response he concluded that the doorbell didn’t work and hammered on the door. Still nothing. Gerhart leaned out over a flowerbed and looked through the living room window. Roberta Valentine was sitting at a desk working with a computer terminal. As he reached out to tap on the glass the vacuum cleaner rolled slowly past the window. Startled, Gerhart almost lost his balance but managed to save himself from falling face first into the geraniums. He regained his equilibrium, squeezed his eyes closed for a moment then looked once more through the window.
The woman continued to work at the desk as the vacuum rolled smoothly about the room, apparently of its own volition. Puzzled, Gerhart drew himself back onto the porch and hammered on the solid oak door. A moment later the machine was switched off. Roberta Valentine swung the door open and smiled at him through the
“Oh, yes! Deeper! Deeper!” she cried as she bucked and tossed beneath him.
As he thrust ever more fiercely into her he felt as though he was floating backward away from her and watching from afar. Then the urgency of his lust diminished and he squinted his eyes as he looked down at her.
This bitch, he thought, they’re all the same. All they want is a stiff dick and lots of money. Or maybe money and then the dick. Or just the money. They don’t give a shit about the man on top of them. Whores! The lot of them are nothing but whores. Wives, girlfriends, no matter. They’re all alike.
He saw nothing but a red blur. The girl, the bed, the room had all disappeared into this weird red fog. But he knew where she lay. He could still feel her. Right there beneath him. Moaning and rolling back and forth as if she was actually enjoying herself. But he knew better. And he would teach this trollop a thing or two. He chuckled deep in his belly and reached behind him for the cutlass. Suddenly he stopped pumping and stood straight up above the spot where he knew she lay. He raised the cutlass over his head with both hands.
“Right, me lass. This is for all the boyos you’ve fucked over since you first spread your legs for the likes of one of us buccaneers!”
The red fog was suddenly blown away by the force of a frantic scream. Captain Blacketer froze with his arms in midair above his head.
“Manning, you motherfucker!” Sheila Hicks yelled. “Stop! What the hell is wrong with you? Untie me, you prick, and put down that sword. Have you lost your rabbit-assed mind?”
Manning Richards shook his head slowly back and forth, then looked down at Sheila where she lay beneath him. All the blood had drained from her face. She was so white Richards thought he could see through her skin to the skull beneath. She had drawn herself so tightly together that she was suspended between the four corners of the bed like a fiddle string. Richards tossed the cutlass to the floor and leaped from the bed.
“Did you hear me, you moron? Cut me loose! I don’t know why I agreed to meet you in this damn boatel in the first place. You’re nothing but a big, fat asshole.”
Richards hastened to release the frightened woman. “I’m sorry, Sheila, I don’t know what came over me. You know I wouldn’t hurt you. Honest.”
“Honest, my ass, you cocksucker.” She sat up and started massaging her wrists and ankles. “That’s the last time anybody ties me to anything. Nuts! You gotta be fucking nuts! Don’t bother me anymore. You’re crazier than a shit-house rat!”
Sheila Hicks pulled on her clothes and stormed from the room, leaving a muddled Manning Richards sitting in the middle of the floor wondering what had come over him.
Gerhart parked his car at the curb, walked up the short flight of stairs and punched the doorbell. He could hear a vacuum cleaner running somewhere in the house. Receiving no response he concluded that the doorbell didn’t work and hammered on the door. Still nothing. Gerhart leaned out over a flowerbed and looked through the living room window. Roberta Valentine was sitting at a desk working with a computer terminal. As he reached out to tap on the glass the vacuum cleaner rolled slowly past the window. Startled, Gerhart almost lost his balance but managed to save himself from falling face first into the geraniums. He regained his equilibrium, squeezed his eyes closed for a moment then looked once more through the window.
The woman continued to work at the desk as the vacuum rolled smoothly about the room, apparently of its own volition. Puzzled, Gerhart drew himself back onto the porch and hammered on the solid oak door. A moment later the machine was switched off. Roberta Valentine swung the door open and smiled at him through the
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