Chapter 6
Dick came slowly awake with the sound of dogs barking outside. He
cocked one eye and stared up at the ceiling where a filigree of shadows
was cast by the sun streaming through the ivy outside the window. He
took a deep breath, slowly brought his hand out from beneath the covers,
and stared at his watch. Nine o'clock. His prodigious yawn was cut
short as he suddenly recalled the dream ... about their hosts' wife!
He blinked. Yes, of course, it was a dream. He turned on his side
and stared speculatively at the still sleeping Sue. In his dream Nora
had been his wife ... no, that wasn't right either. It had been Sue be
made love to in his dream, only Sue looked like Nora? Was that it?
He smiled secretively. No matter. It was one helluva wet dream.
Boy, he'd had women go wild under him before, but nothing like Nora in
the dream. She'd fought him like a marlin trying to shake a hook; the
hook had been his prick, and he'd let her run, then reeled in, let her
run again, and then finally brought her to gaff -- panting and gasping.
A real prize trophy. Tremendous. Unbelievably tremendous!
The dream had come tenuously. He remembered waking up next to Sue
... only it really wasn't Sue, it was Nora. Oh, to hell with it, he
thought; what does it matter. The dream was the thing! In the dream he
had awakened to find himself stripped and lying next to his nude wife.
It was the way he had been awakened that was interesting. His wife had
been fondly stroking his cock, crooning over it, admiring its size and
beauty.
She had kissed him, and her mouth was all honey and heat and
tongue. And she had placed his head against her breast and fed him like
a hungry infant. And then she had stroked his cock again and told him
she wanted it deep inside her.
His wife had said, "With a cock like yours, I want a real bread and
butter fuck, at least the first time. Tomorrow night, you're going to
eat it. Tonight, though, you'll just fuck it till I go crazy."
The term had eluded him; he'd never heard it before. "A bread and
butter fuck?" he asked.
"Honey," she had explained patiently, "a bread and butter fuck is a
straight fuck. You on top of me with my legs wrapped around you --
nothing kinky ... just plain old fashioned fucking. Bang ... bang ...
oh, glorious bang!"
She bent her legs at the knees, placing her feet right up next to
her buttocks. Then she spread herself for him. "Come on in ... the
water's fine," she crooned, her black eyes aflame with lust, and smiling
wickedly through bared teeth. Her cunt was smiling too, its dark hair-
lined vaginal lips already moist with its lust. And the clitoris
standing like a campanile at the top of the quad.
He entered her with a rush. "Gaaaagghh." she moaned happily as the
cock rode up like a nonstop express elevator. His balls slammed in
against her asshole, bringing a low groan of pain-delight from his wife.
Her legs uncoiled and then her calves were against his buttocks, her
heels and toenails were used as spurs. She began grinding her ass into
the mattress, making sharp little circular motions that were viciously
exciting. He really didn't have much moving to do; she did most of it,
arching her back and using her legs on his buttocks as though she were
hanging from gymnastic rings. She was the master of the moment; she was
the director, star, manager, boss. His hot penile shaft drove into the
target, and with each new thrust, her open pussy became juicier -- the
bullseye hotter. His wife was lying there -- taking it all ...
breathing heavily through nostrils that expanded and contracted like the
diaphragm on an underwater breathing apparatus. "Slowly," she
commanded, and it was a definite order, not to be disobeyed.
Suddenly there was a shimmering of consciousness, and a strange
heat was on him. Always he had tried to be gentle, if possible. He
didn't like the queenly attitude of his wife. Now for some sadistic
reason he only vaguely understood, he wanted her to know that there was
only one boss at a time like this -- the male! Actually, he wanted to
hear her submit completely and actually plead for mercy. He withdrew
his cock until only the head was still buried in the vaginal folds. His
wife looked up angrily and said. "Keep going, you fool. I said,
'slowly', not stop."
He grinned down at her, then shoved forward as viciously as he
could.
"Aaaa ... gaaaaahhh!" she screamed, and he knew he was hurting her
-- knew he was scraping and rattling like a runaway subway train along
each dark bend and curve of her vaginal tunnel. He felt his cock
abruptly slap up against the far wall of her uterus. He immediately
withdrew it once more and slammed all its seven inch length into the
covering hole. "Goddamnit," the woman moaned, "I said take it easy;
you're hurting me." Now Dick felt as though he were a human pile driver.
He had a massive steel beam which had to be driven through that
quivering quicksand into bedrock. He began driving in -- without pity
-- hearing her groan and moan beneath him. Once, their pelvises crashed
together so hard that he was sure he had broken something. His prick
had grown to astronomical size; it was as if it had a mind of its own --
a predatory destroyer rampaging through the warm jungles of her
defenseless cunt.
Dick glanced down at the female. Her mouth was laxly open, and her
breath was hissing through bared teeth. She was rotating her shoulders
as though she were trying to take wing and fly. She was panting ... and
her eyes were rolling wildly. She was close to cumming. Well, fuck it!
With sadistic pleasure, Dick withdrew his cock completely. Her
haunches rose up like a blind animal, weaving in the air, seeking it.
"What's ... what's wrong?" she panted. "Don't stop now ... you can't
stop."
"Why not?" he growled, wanting only to hear her beg.
She guessed his purpose. "You god-damned impudent son of a bitch
... fuck me!" she hissed, and then grabbed his testicles and yanked so
hard it felt as though they were being ripped out by the roots. Her
fingernails cruelly and purposely bit into the scrotum.
Dick reacted much the same as a bull being pricked by a picador.
He charged! "Why you ... you!" He savagely slapped her face. Her head
flew back against the pillow; her eyes glazed from the blow. The pain
in his balls was agonizing. He wanted only to punish the bitch now.
He wanted to hurt her more that he had ever wanted to hurt anyone
before in his life.
He put his steel-hard cock against her tender vaginal mouth and
shoved; as he did so, he pushed her knees back until her face peered
between them like a frightened owl in the branches of a tree. It gave
him another two inches of depth, and she screamed in genuine pain as he
reached the virginal territory.
In and out he drove with demented fury, a fury that did not die
even when she screamed, "I'm cumming. Fuck harder, you Yankee bastard.
I'm cumming!" Her loins were trying to work up and down on his shaft,
but he kept her pinned there. She groaned and fell back -- no longer
fighting him as her orgasm began. He could feel her pussy twitching and
sucking away at him, could feel the sudden new heat of her steaming
snatch as her cum flooded her hidden passageways. He kept pounding
mindlessly into her until she screamed a minute later, "I'm cumming
again ... aaiiieeee." This was followed within seconds by another cry of
release, then another, then still another, until her orgasms began
running together in one continuous aurora borealis of ecstasy glowing
and dancing across her wildly clamping pussy walls. Finally, her eyes
rolled into her head and she passed out completely. Dick, propped up by
knees and elbows, glanced down at her. He pinched her nipple; she
remained unconscious. Then, grinning sardonically, he made one -- two
-- three savage thrusts forward before his cock began spurting its
scalding hot cum directly against the hot, still slightly pulsating
walls of her subservient cunt. God how she had cum! It was the cum of
a conqueror fucking a helpless female captive ... a slave of lust ...
the cum of hatred and mastery ... but not of love.
He fell alongside her unconscious body and gave way to a victorious
sleep.
Some time later in the dream, he vaguely recalled her voice
sleepily saying, "That was the best fuck I've had in years. Simply
years, darling. But you were a very bad boy. You hurt me. I know you
must have ripped something inside me ... you loveable, uncontrollable
bastard."
And still later, the voice said, "Repeat after me. At two o'clock
tomorrow night, you will come to me again. Now, you will return to your
room and when you awake tomorrow morning, it will all seem like a dream.
It will have been a dream -- you made love to your wife ..."
Just before final oblivion came, he thought he heard her laughter
and thought he caught the words, "Tomorrow night, my dear, I'll not let
you off the leash like tonight. Tomorrow you are going down between my
legs and eat it ..."
What a screwy dream! Really wild! As if his bride would ever talk
or act like this. Quietly, so that he wouldn't disturb Sue, he got out
of bed and went to the shower.
As he stepped under the stream of hot water, he laughed and said
aloud, "I feel listless, man, almost as if I really had been screwing
all night." Then almost immediately he thought: A helluva thing --
having a wet dream on my honeymoon; that doesn't speak too much of Sue's
love making abilities. He felt a trifle guilty when he realized that
the dream probably was based on wishful thinking -- based on the hope
that Sue would start showing some emotion, some initiative, and would
relax and enjoy his love making.
It wasn't until he was towelling himself dry that he noted the very
slight bruise on his right calf. It looked almost as if he had pricked
himself with a pin or something.
