It took her several trips to transfer Lester's clothes back into their bedroom but Bette Jean worked feverishly. Everything had to be in order, put away in its proper place before time to start dinner.
She'd never known such a nightmare in her whole life as she'd lived through today. For the first time in their married life she'd lain in bed and let her husband make his own breakfast. The moment her eyes had opened this morning the horror of last night had hit like a hammer striking her right between the eyes. Drunken and weakened, she'd committed the unforgivable… an act so horrible that it had been forbidden by every savage tribe as well as by all the civilizations since man began. With her own son!!!!! It was monstrous, evil and so hideous that she finally went into the bathroom and retched, great dry sobbing heaves wrenching her belly, as the full memory came back to her.
Lester had poked his head in the door as she'd shakily climbed back into bed. "What's the matter? Got the flu? I gotta get to work. Where's breakfast?"
She shook her head weakly. "I can't, Lester. I… I feel awful."
"You're pretty white. Been throwing up?"
Her eyes fluttered closed as she nodded her head.
"Well… stay in bed. I'll get some coffee and toast."
"Get Wanda to make…" but he was gone then. Gratefully she sank back. She couldn't face Lester. She couldn't face anyone again. Couldn't even call Dr. Madson. How did you tell your doctor you were ill with guilt… the most terrifying guilt the world had ever known… It was no use… the word wouldn't even pronounce inside her own skull. Her Gary… a modern teen age Oedipus… doomed by copulating with his own mother. She burrowed down in the covers, flinging herself over on her stomach to bury her face and head with pillows to smother the moving playing screen in her head that brought it all back in moving color.
Somehow the day had worn on. All the tears had been cried. All the filthy epithets had been hurled at herself… all the nightmare played out over and over until she remembered every grisly detail and remembered how it came about. The worst thing to bear had been the sure knowledge that she had reveled in it. That filthy perverted act with her own boy. She'd loved it… some unknown secret part of herself had relished and loved every depraved minute of it. The waves of pleasure had roared through her body like a tidal flood. And it had been her son who had taken her to such heights… her son! For the first time in her life she'd known why Lester had nagged her so tiresomely about sex all the time. This was what he felt… or very like it… and he'd felt it over and over and over. But it had been the first time in her life she had ever truly enjoyed and attained this particular incredible peak of passion and lust. And it had to be at the hands of her own son. It was unthinkable that he had turned her on to bodily pleasure and not Lester, her husband!
Finally, after all the solutions had been proposed and discarded in her mind, she'd resolved that the only penance she could make that might expiate the terrible transgression, would be to live out the rest of her life in the same room with Lester. Try to be a good wife to him. Try to make it up… and never let Gary know what she hoped his youth might help him forget. As soon as she could she'd send Gary away… to boarding school or military school… anywhere where she wouldn't have to see him and be reminded… where he might forget… think it was a nightmare, unreal and therefore without influence.
As Bette Jean hung Lester's sport coat in the closet in their bedroom she could almost feel the strong arms pinning her down. The empty sleeves reminded her just how big a man he was, how demanding, how brutal. Well no matter how brutal he was now, she deserved worse. He couldn't punish her enough.
Wanda would have to go. She couldn't be allowed to disrupt this household any more. Since she had come their whole world had turned inside out. Somehow, some way… get rid of her. Then, perhaps, there might be a way she could straighten out the terrible mess.
Dinner was very silent, the tensions so thick they hung palpable in the air, smothering their desultory attempts at small talk. Lester wolfed his food silently. Wanda kept a mocking smile on her face. Gary looked wounded and ill. Bette Jean wondered if her own face showed such illness.
For the fourth time that day, Bette Jean bathed her body that she'd come to think of as a traitor, the villainous traitor of herself. It was as if the constant bathing might speed the forgetfulness and absolution she needed so desperately. The sheets felt cool and icy against her naked skin. Lester would be coming to bed and he hated nightgowns. She would submit to whatever he wanted, willingly. He'd looked startled and displeased when she'd whispered to him that his things were back in their room… that she didn't want separate bedrooms anymore… in fact, he'd looked almost guilty. But his guilt, whatever it might be, could not compare with hers. She waited almost eagerly, the cold sheet hardening her nipples.
The neighborhood noises had stopped altogether and a pervading stillness enclosed the house. She lay rigid, naked and still, a small lamp making a pool of light to guide Lester to bed. Her eyes were open and staring, waiting. Time had no meaning now. It could have been minutes or days that she lay like a statue awaiting expiation or execution. It did not seem to matter which.
Slowly the knob of the door turned and she looked up to see Lester tiptoe quietly in. He saw her staring and silent. She watched as he turned his back and began to undress, hanging his clothes neatly in the closet.
"Feel any better?"
"Yes… I'm fine now." She heard a shoe drop with a muffled thud onto the carpet. "Lester…? I'll be a good wife to you from now on… forgive me… for being… the way I was…" She couldn't keep the note of hysteria from her voice and she saw that he reacted to it, turning to look at her curiously. He sat on the other side of the bed, his back to her while he removed the other shoe and sock. The muscles in his naked back were strong and she watched them move smoothly, marveling at their effortless working.
"Maybe you ought to go see that doctor. You looked awful peaked today."
"No… I told you… I'll be… a good wife now… you'll see… just… please… let me try!!!" Her voice rose shrilly as she flung the covers back to reveal her nakedness. Lester turned his head and she could see his amazement and then confusion and then something else… a rising passion and deep seated contempt.
"I didn't put on a nightgown…" she offered inanely as she spread her legs in silent invitation. Her eyes were on his, locked in silent stalemate.
Lester looked at her, spread out like a damned sacrifice for him. Jesus Christ! What the hell had happened to her? She looked wild eyed and hysterical. God knows he didn't want to move back in here now. Shit! Wanda was available any time, any way he wanted her. He'd begun to like the arrangement. Had Bette Jean somehow found out? Was she making the big sacrifice to save her "happy home"? He felt the anger rise in him in a fiery streak but it was tempered with a stiffing in his loins despite himself. Jesus, but she was a delectable woman. He could see the sleek white thighs open to him, the sparsely haired triangle between them that ovaled around the warmly pink cuntal mouth. There was a faint gleam of moisture on the pussy lips as though they'd been licked with a tongue. He watched in amazement as her hands slid up her satiny sides and cupped the full blown snowy breasts in offering.
His cock jerked involuntarily, fired by his balls that had begun to churn and steam. God damned crazy woman! How long he'd dreamed of her offering herself to him willingly and now that she had, he felt guilty as hell. Bette Jean's fingers thumbed her own breasts until the nipples were fire red points of rigidly erect yearning. A tiny whimper came out her mouth… a plea she couldn't voice.
"All right, you frigid bitch, you want to make the big sacrifice, you want to fuck, by God you're going to get fucked till it comes out the back of your throat!"
His tender solicitousness of moments before seemed to have completely faded, and though Bette Jean did not understand what had caused the sudden anger in his face, she could not help but react to the abrupt change in his attitude. The cruel, masterful tone of her husband's voice sent tremors of excitement up and down her spine, and she felt a strange masochistic thrill of pleasure as she tried to imagine what he would do.
Lester held himself back for a short time, purposely torturing both of them in expectation. He'd fuck her all right. He would shove his long thick cock between the full white moons of her proud little white ass. He wanted nothing in the world more than to see her uncontrollably wriggling before the attack of his throbbing cock as it plunged deep into her inviolate little asshole, completing his conquest of the arrogant bitch. Though he had to admit he had felt an unexpected tenderness toward her earlier, her casual assumption that he wanted nothing more than to fuck her any time she wanted him had filled him with anger. Now, they would see who held the power in this situation, he thought. He would laugh out loud when she suddenly turned complete animal and lost all control over herself, ignoring everything but her over-powering need to be fucked in a way that would repulse and disgust her. The sadistic idea ran through his loins like wildfire.
Bette Jean was lying back on the bed, her mouth lolling open in a daze of anticipation when Lester lowered his dark head over her smooth ivory belly. His darting tongue flicked teasingly into her navel, then traced a path down the soft flat skin until his face was a few scant inches from the wispy tendrils of pubic hair that bordered the tender sensitive ridges of her pussy.
She could feel his moist warm breath beating down on the naked hair-lined flanges of her cunt as his fingers gently pressed apart the soft folds, exposing her hardening clitoris to the cool air and bringing it to thrusting erection. A slight moisture glistened on the outer lips as he pulled the soft pink cleft completely open. Suddenly, his long dripping wet tongue snaked forward, burying itself in the exposed slit with a wet, sucking sound.
Bette Jean was amazed at her own reaction to the maddening assault of his tongue and fingers. She felt as though she had changed into some kind of wild animal, driven by a powerful instinct to accept and need his lascivious ministrations. Yesterday, she might have been repulsed by the strange, lewd sensations that pounded through her body and mind, but now she wanted more, as much as she could possibly stand. Tangling her fingers in his black hair, she strained his face tighter to her crotch and swiveled her pelvis in pulsating rhythm with the warm, wet spear that probed into her wide-split cunt. She felt a primitive need pounding through her as her mind erupted with new, alien, wanton thoughts.
Her vaginal passage contracted, opening and closing tightly around the long smooth lance of flesh worming deep inside her. Her muscles strained, the cords of her thighs standing out tautly as she ground her back down into the mattress and heaved her pelvis up against the sudden curling and flicking of his tongue up inside her cunt. Fighting the iron-like grip she held on his head, the boiler maker began to work his thick, drooling lips over the whole area of her upturned pelvis, sucking and licking crazily from the swollen pea-like nodule of her clitoris to the tight puckered hole of her anus. Then, his pointed tongue slowly rounded the tightly constricted opening and probed gently at the light brown puckered flesh.
"Noooo, not there," she moaned breathlessly as awareness of his depraved assault filtered through her daze of wild, abandoned sexuality. This was not the normal, healthy eroticism she had finally accepted as something she needed and wanted, but an unnatural defilement of her body.
Lester rasped harshly. "On your knees with your ass high and shoved back here!"
Dear… dear God! What did he mean? Why…? She was going to be a good wife to him… she'd told him so. What was he trying to do…? She thought these things as she assumed the instructed position, ashamed now as she nakedly spread her knees and opened herself to him.
"You want to be a good wife to me… at least you said so. Is that true, baby?"
"Y-Yes."
"Well you're going to prove it, bitch!"
"Lester… darling, I want it to be whatever you want!" Bette Jean said, holding her position, but looking back toward him. "I don't care about… anything else…"
"Right now, baby, you don't know what you care about! Tomorrow, you'll wake up with a different head! And I don't want any fucking frigid hypochondriac for a wife, either… I want a woman! You ready for that?"
"Y-Y-Yes… yes… honest, darling, I'm ready…!"
"Good. Then, you won't have too much trouble with the test! Baby… I'm going to fuck your asshole… sodomize you to seal and forever enjoin our love! If you want out, get up and run… and I promise you, I'll walk out of here!"
"And I'm not going to do it until you tell me to, baby!" Lester said suddenly. "You're going to make the decision… whether you want to give yourself to me all the way or not! This fucking night has been too much for me already! If you want it in your ass, say so, because that will be our true marriage! Forever, baby! Forever… now… decide… right now!"
"All right!" Bette Jean exclaimed. "Please, darling, do it! Fuck me there… in my ass! I want you more than anything in the whole world! More than anything in the whole world! Now, marry me with your cock in my ass! Now! Now! Please… hurry… hurry!" She could hardly wait for the cleansing punishment to begin.
Lester felt a surge of new blood racing toward the throbbing head of his extended shaft. He half-grinned as he kneed himself up between her widespread thighs and open buttocks. He could see her moist cunt, but it was the small puckered dark hole between her luscious ass-cheeks that held his attention. He felt a hard vengeance in his gut as he positioned himself behind her, then, gently dipping his finger between the hair-fringed lips of her moist cunt, he watched her hips and buttocks jerk from the erotic intrusion.
Lester smeared the viscid lubricant over the crinkled, tight little hole of her rectum. He did it several times before suddenly grasping and dipping the head of his pulsing cock between her dewy vaginal lips, then, nuzzled it tightly up against her stretched anus.
Bette Jean heard him make a partial laugh… a salacious little sound she thought frightenedly, clenching her hands into fists and closing her eyes tightly. I love him! I want him! I've denied myself for the last day or night of my life! This is the way to happiness… and I'll suffer to get it… to prove my love to him! To wipe out the terrible thing I've done!
Then, without benefit of mercy, it seemed to her, he thrust forward and she felt an agonizing pop and stretching of her rectal mouth. Her breath wadded in her throat as a vicious spasm of pain ripped through her as she twisted and half-screamed, and she waggled her bottom to get free of the wickedly torturous cock reaming into her back passage!
Oh, God… dear God! She'd sorely misjudged the size and capacity of her rectum! He was going to split her wide open back there, she realized in sudden horror, her rounded, white buttocks beginning to thrash insanely. She heard him laugh again and felt his strong hands gouging into the tender flesh of her hips. God! He was holding her vise-like, and her every attempted move only served to drive his huge rod of solid flesh deeper and deeper inside her cringing passage.
"Push back! Damnit, shove that beautiful ass back onto it!" Lester commanded, grasping at her tensed, upper thighs and straining his narrow hips forward obscenely. "It's too late to run now, baby! You've made your choice… so grin and bear it!"
"Oh… oh, God!" Bette Jean choked, unable to restrain neither the tears of agony nor the guttural moans of shame that were abruptly sweeping over her. It was more than a debasing humiliation of the perverse sodomizing he was subjecting her to… that she needed… but, God in heaven… could she stand it…?
He's ripped me all open back there! Oh… ooohhh, it's tearing my rectum apart. Ooohhh… God… God… I… I don't care! He's… he's punishing me… oh, how he's punishing me. Yes… yes I want him to… I do, I do! Right… right up my ass, lover… ohhh punish me, darling, punish… me…!
Bette Jean hunched back determinedly as he thrust forward and she felt the excruciating torment of his thick throbbing shaft surging into her, pushing the rubbery, persistent flesh before it, until at last, with one final buttock-flattening lunge he ground it all the way up inside the warm, constricting depths of her salaciously stretched rectum!
At last! At last! Her brain reeled in strange masochistic torment. Then she felt his strong, hairy pelvis smack solidly into the softness between her lewdly upturned buttocks, his balls swinging hard down against the spread lips of her pussy below. She was impaled to the hilt, and afraid to breathe with the unbelievable, racking pressure that felt as if her thighs were splitting apart…!
"Aaaagggggghhhhh!" she screamed, her face contorted from agony and shame. "Oh my God!" She tried to twist her head back and stop his depraved assault on her defenseless, virginal rectum.
Oh God, it's so big… But it's in… it's inside me! Like a huge baseball bat tearing my backsides asunder… Oh dear God… I don't care… I don't care… This is my punishment… yes, yes… the punishment I deserve… I want you, oh mighty cock… all the way up my asshole!
Lester grinned insanely down at his cock stuck in the end of his wife. He moaned as he locked his sight on the hardened rod which disappeared in the wide-stretched oval opening between the white, now quivering mounds. He jerked slightly, Bette Jean screaming in torment again as his penis slid into the tender brown flesh. When he was still, the anus drew out slightly, puckering around his impaling cock. His penis was so hard he thought it would shatter! His balls felt like cement blocks had been tied to them! They throbbed with unbelievable aching. Some men wait a lifetime for such a fuck! It was hardly possible for him to believe that his woman, was subjugating herself like a bitch in heat to him.
She jumped forward in unbelieving horror at the excruciating pain, feeling as though a red hot poker had been driven into her narrowest opening. As she trembled under the vicious assault, mustering all her courage to bear the agony until she was thoroughly punished, he rotated his cock deeper and deeper, expanding the tight, contracting asshole. He suddenly plunged, forcing a piteous squeal from Bette Jean's throat as she ground her face into the pillow. But, Lester persisted, screwing into the deep, rubbery channel, savagely drilling in and out of her warm velvety passage.
She could not even accept the monstrosity of what was happening to her, much less the awareness that the pain was slowly fading and she was beginning to desire this obscene depravity. Her dread gradually vanished, however, as his other hand sensuously nipped at her tiny, throbbing clitoris, and she felt unwanted waves of pleasure surging through her. Her mouth opened, and she began to pant and mewl crazily as his cock worked around and around deep in her wide-stretched rectum. Bette Jean squirmed beneath his cruel probes in total surrender and finally whimpered: "Please, fuck me there! Fuck me in the ass!"
Smiling evilly, Lester pulled his cock out of his wife's writhing buttocks, watching gleefully as the moist skin clung to it until it popped out with a wet sucking noise. Once again, he pried the soft cheeks of her buttocks far apart and licked at the tiny quivering hole until she thought she was going out of her mind with the teasing tantalization.
"Oh God, fuck it! Fuck it now!" she suddenly screamed in maniacal passion. "Quick, quick, screw my ass or I'll die!"
Lester smiled complacently. She was at his mercy and he meant to take advantage of her subjugation, making her pay for every insult he had ever had to accept from her. His eyes roamed triumphantly over her tortured face as she stared over her shoulder, back at him, wild-eyed with lust. He felt her reach back under her body and hungrily stroke at the hairy testicles that dangled between his thighs.
"Put it in your asshole, again bitch," he ordered harshly.
Her trembling hands obediently clasped the rock-hard shaft and a sudden expression of terror flashed through her eyes as she remembered the enormity of the throbbing instrument she felt in her fingers. Succumbing to the fear she suddenly felt, Bette Jean tried to cram the huge member in her soaking vaginal lips, working the smooth bulbous head back and forth in her cuntal juices to ease the entry.
"Your asshole, bitch!" he snarlingly repeated.
She acquiesced to the cold command, tremulously positioning the massive tip against her tight hairless opening. She could feel his thumbs pressing outward at the half-moons of her buttocks, pulling them wider and wider apart, until the head of his hungry cock pushed against the cringing mouth of her back passage. She knew it was hopeless to resist as the hardened head stabbed painfully against her anus, and she cringed in unbearable pain as the blood-engorged tip suddenly popped through her slightly-resisting sphincter muscle. Her face contorted in the agony of the ravishment, and she desperately tried to pull away.
"Shove back, damn you! Shove back!" he bellowed.
In automatic obedience to the loud command, she hunched back, feeling him push with all his strength to overcome again the natural resistance of her narrow opening. The weight of his powerful body pushed down on her with pulverizing strength, lambasting mercilessly at the rubbery flesh.
"Oh, God, you're killing me! It's too big!"
Lester grinned insanely as she uttered the hysterical plea, feasting his eyes on the sight of her white, full-rounded ass impaled on his huge cock. He heard her scream in torment as he forced yet another inch of his penis into the wide-stretched oval opening between the quivering mounds; the white throbbing shaft disappearing into that gyrating ass. Her beautiful face was flushed – the color of strawberries – and her eyes rolled around in her head. She began mewling little inarticulate sounds of lust.
He drew his cock out to the point where only the head was lodged inside, then pushed gently but firmly in all the way. The long, long stroke drove her insane. She whined and jiggled as though she were a friendly puppy wagging its tail. He did it again, and again, and again, speeding up his tempo now.
She was panting so loudly that it was almost impossible to make sense of her words, but the meaning did reach him, "Harder, faster. Fuck harder. Fuck faster," she groaned with mouth open – making silent screams.
Bette Jean no longer felt human as the mercilessly driving cock tore into her rectum, pushing against the bottom of her belly inside like a monstrous pestle jammed into a tiny mortar. Turning her head back again, she saw Lester grinning victoriously just as he thrust his penis heavily downward. With a loud smacking noise, his hips banged against the softness of her twin buttocks and the torturing instrument was buried to the hilt again in her ravaged anus. She was hopelessly impaled, like a pig on a spit. Tears of pain and humiliation ran down her cheeks in tiny glistening rivulets as he gasped in diabolical delight, and began to piston in and out of her tight-stretched passage with the power of his sadistic impulses spurring him on. He rammed into her with cruelly hard thrusts, his great swinging balls buffeting against her tightly straining cunt, and unexpectedly, she found herself becoming accustomed to the presence of the tremendously huge cock boring into her.
As the pain suddenly seemed strangely pleasant to her, she ground back to meet the forward thrust of his cock, undulating her body and swinging her hips in tiny rotating circles. She gyrated, lowering her hips to pull the lust-hardened prick out of her quivering rectum, then driving back to bury it deeply within her burning channel, the blunt intrusion firing every fiber of her being. Her head thrashed from side to side in unfeigned passion on the pillow and her lips were bared back from her teeth in masochistic joy. She was loving it and she bucked back against him like a mare against a stud horse, her chestnut hair flying around her face and neck as she squirmed lewdly on the pumping instrument.
The boiler maker could see his wife's face flushing red from the intensity of her effort, her eyes wide in unseeing entrapment in the final quest for fulfillment. He watched in heated passion as his pillaging cock pulled tiny ridges of her light brown clasping flesh out with the base of his prick as it withdrew for another powerful lunge inside her, then pushed the tight elastic ring back inwards like a tiny bellows on the instroke.
Sweat rolled off his face and flowed in tiny glistening streams from her back onto the bed. His eyes bulged wide at the spectacle of her body bucking before him as he felt the rubbery passage slipping over his cock like a tight-fitting glove. He had lost control of himself and his heavy member swelled in her rectum like an inflating balloon.
Bette Jean waved her ass back against his bludgeoning thrusts. She wanted him to cum, to shoot his great boiling stream of sperm deep into her bowels. There was no longer any pain or doubt, only a feeling of being filled as she had never been before. Her ass swayed high in the air and she ground back as she felt the enormous penis throbbing in torturous hardness.
There was a low strangled gasp behind her and she felt his great, pulsating cock burst like a dam as he gave one last shove that sent wave after wave of his hot sperm flooding into the depths of her belly. Then, she felt the tremor of her climax sweep through her and she and she screamed out her release as it gushed from her open cunt, drenching his hairy balls pressed tightly against the spewing opening. The orgiastic fluids were trickling down her thighs in mingled streams when Lester groaned in exhaustion and collapsed, flattening her to the bed.
If only she could die now… fall straight through the bed to whatever place the tortured dead go and be at peace.