Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 19

And it was eerie because neither of them said a word — just her profound moans of lust and his groans and grunts and the slapping of wet flesh. Like being in a whorehouse, Jack thought with a shock as she gyrated her soaked cunt on his bush and raked his shoulders with sharp nails, only not him in a whorehouse, but her, the quiet frenzied blonde. She felt like a whore! At last she let him come, whipping her dripping slit up and down on his boiling meat savagely, low screams of obscene release gurgling in her throat.

She climbed off him with a long, shaking sigh. Weird, Jack thought, tilting the bottle to his lips and then lighting a cigarette. Because she wasn’t touching him now, just quietly breathing beside him.

He put a hand on her warm flesh. “Hey, baby, you okay? You pissed at me about something?”

She laughed, a musical sound, and turned to him and tenderly stroked his face.

“Of course not, darling,” she murmured, her eyes glowing brightly in the darkness. “It’s just that I love you so much, Jack. I was thinking about what it’s going to be like to be married, that’s all.”

“You’ll dig it,” he assured her, stroking her ripe silky ass. “Mrs. Jack Watson. How does that sound, huh?”

She smiled. “Mrs. Jack Watson,” he repeated. Her fingers went to his limp rod and formed a hot fist and began jerking.

“Hey, now, wait a minute, honey,” he said. “I’m really tired, you know? Rough day at the tables, believe me. We can swing all day and all night once we’re married.”

“All day and all night,” she whispered. She banished her wet mouth across his chest then over his flat hard belly and began kissing his bush, then his inner thighs, then seized his soft prick in her mouth and feverishly started to suck the tingling meat.

“Hey, now, cool it, aaaaaah, okay, that’s good — that’s good, Carol! MMMMM, shit, I want your mouth, your juicy hot mouth, baby!”

Her soul was in her fiery mouth, her lips and tongue blazing with raw sex as she sucked and nibbled and tongued his fleshy rod, commanding the knot of jism in his loins, drawing it out of him like a brutally irresistible magnet.

Beneath the assault, Jack gasped and fucked her mouth lustfully, not wanting to, cursing himself, but oh shit, her hot lips and whirling tongue, her jerking fingers, her magnetic sex-heat was drawing his cream out of him with intense power, and he clutched her head and fucked deeply into her juicy sucking mouth, groaning and gasping.

“Oh Jesus, Carol! UNNNNF! Luscious mouth — ooooooh! Coming, ah shit commminggg! Whewww!”

She drained him with fierce lips, drained his every lingering drop until he was gasping with fatigue. Then she climbed up next to him, once again strangely silent.

Well, whatever the fuck happened to his legendary stamina? She was getting him off in minutes now, sucking him bone-dry. He tilted the bottle to his lips — liquid energy. She kept playing with his cock, which was beginning to feel like ground sirloin.

“Listen, I’m gonna crash now, okay, baby?” he said. “Got a rough day tomorrow, Carol.”

“I understand,” she said softly. She leaned over him and again gave him that gleaming, chilling look and then she kissed him tenderly. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered.

He went out in seconds, diving into pools of blackness. Then he groaned aloud in his sleep. He was dreaming his poor chafed cock was being sucked off again with ferocious greed and he was stiff, curing himself but unable to control his lust. And then his prick was being hugged by a tight, slippery cunt. It was working on his meat, pumping and jerking and twisting and brutally trying to lure out his cum.

He wanted to cry then because it wasn’t a dream, it was Carol at four in the morning, riding his stiff rod furiously like a sex-crazed jockey, gasping and panting with her huge tits bouncing before his eyes, her head reared back in glory and her long golden hair sweeping behind her.

“God’s sake!” he cried. “Gimme a break Carol shit I… I… ooooof! Oh Christ easy… aaaaaah! Your cunt… too tight! Easy, wheeewwwww, shit coming again!”

And again she devoured his jism with her greedily sucking cunt, clasping and squeezing it firmly until the last suffering drop surrendered with humility, trickling out in feeble exhaustion. Jack reached for the bottle and swilled desperately. Oh Jesus, he had to face Sally in the morning and she wouldn’t take no for an answer, she’d slap it back in his face like a dead fish. Beside him, the blonde now slept peacefully, satisfied, while he lay there in weary anguish, his nerves quivering and his mind tormenting him.

Maybe he could get some Spanish Fly somewhere. Maybe he could con her out of it with some excuse. What excuse? He caught the clap and didn’t want to infect her? She’d love that, she’d cut his cock off and fry it like breakfast sausage.

All his life he’d lived off women, scored them with ease and arrogance, hustled them with smooth efficiency and now they were driving him insane with their ravenous lips and insatiable cunts, they were killing him for Chrissake.

He slept fitfully.

Sally had rented an expensive motel room only two blocks away and he made bright comments about it as he stood there, looking haggard in the morning sunlight.

She lay naked on the bed, propped up on pillows, smoking and watching him through narrowed eyes. Any other time and he’d be hot and ready just from the sight of her satiny tits and lush pink cunt and long tapered legs. Now the mere sight of a wet hot pussy made him want to burst into tears.

Has nerves were going fast and he knew it.

“Nov listen, hon,” he said persuasively, sitting on the edge of the bed and flashing her his most charming grin, “this is a rough gig, you know what I mean? Knocking off twenty thousand a day, being watched by that bastard Lane, trying to keep the farmer’s daughter happy…”

Oops she didn’t like that.

“Is she happy, Jack?” Sally asked softly. “Fuck her all night long, stud? Dig that hot country snatch, huh?”

He waved a hand airily. “Nah, we didn’t even do anything, Sal, she’s all mush and romance, know what I mean?”

Oops! Double oops! If he didn’t do anything then he shouldn’t have any trouble screwing his wife, right? And that’s exactly what her dangerous expression said.

He flushed. “Listen, Sal, honey baby, pussy-cake, I, ah, I sort of lied about that. She wouldn’t let go of my dick, know what I mean? Clung like a bloodsucking vampire.”

“She raped you,” Sally said, her eyes seething. “You poor weak helpless sonofabitch, she pinned you to the wall and raped you. And now you can’t get it up?”

“Well, now, you just give me ten minutes and I’ll show you what I can do,” he bluffed. But the grin on his face felt like cracked plaster. He went over to her dresser and picked up the bottle of gin there and tilted it to his lips and gulped for a long, long time. Synthetic energy. You could bury yourself in a grave of dead bottles and vicious cunts in less than three days at this pace.

But he had no choice.

He stripped, glancing at his raw pink meat. One more time, old buddy, you great old fucking warhorse, he told it. Do your stuff, soldier, this is one battle we gotta win, pal. Let’s see a big salute, huh? You wanna get shot for desertion, motherfucker?

Nothing.