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Subject: {ASSM} The Innocent Fugitives Ch04 {Varkel} (MF inc oral ws toys)
Date: Sat, 10 Feb 2001 00:10:04 -0500
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The Innocent Fugitives
a Novel by Varkel
Copyright (C) 2001, Varkel



Chapter 4:  Flight and Convergence



Sgt. Martin was waiting for Calhoun when he arrived promptly at 
eight a.m.  After his superior unlocked the office, Martin 
followed him into the room.  To the lieutenant's inquiringly 
raised eyebrows, he said, "More on the locked room case."

"Oh, yeah?"  The lieutenant sat at his desk and rubbed his eyes.  
"Anything that can't wait till I get some coffee?"

"I guess not," the sergeant admitted.

"Anything on the APB?"

"Not yet.  Lanning's car is still in front of her house.  No 
trace of hers."

Pudgy Ruth appeared, a steaming coffee cup in her hand.  She 
bustled in without ceremony, set the cup before the lieutenant 
and winked into his pleased expression.

"Where's mine?" asked Sgt. Martin aggrievedly.

The woman sniffed.  "In the urn."  She almost turned away, but 
the lieutenant held up a restraining finger.

"Thank you, Ruth.  One question.  Did you take the tip on the 
Collier cache last night?"

"No, sir," said the woman in her surprisingly deep voice.  "That 
was Gracie again."

Calhoun's eyes narrowed.  "But you listened to the tape, didn't 
you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, who was it?"

"I don't know.  But I think this was a woman pretending to be a 
man.  Sounded bitchy."

"Did it!  Could it have been the same person who called in the 
double murder?"

"Maybe.  The original is still queued up if you want to listen."

"I may later.  Thank you, Ruth."  As the woman departed, his 
attention turned to the sergeant.  "What was it you wanted to 
tell me?"

"The lab report is back on the stuff they found at Collier's."

"Already?"

"I put a rush on it."

"Well, what did they find, sergeant?"

"Just what I said:  top grade heroin.  Except strychnine was 
mixed into it.  It would've killed anybody that used it."

The lieutenant stared reflectively.  "Not much loss to society in 
that.  What do you think, sergeant?"

The sergeant grinned.  "Guess not.  Did I tell you she left her 
purse: driver's license, credit card, cash, the whole works?"

"Lanning must've rushed her.  Hmm.  Didn't Perkins claim he heard 
somebody running away?"

"Yeah.  He had to give _some_ reason for kicking a skunk in the 
woods!"

Calhoun grinned.  "Did he come in today?"

"Not yet.  That stuff is hell to get off."  The sergeant's grin 
faded.  "Funny about the missing lock.  And nothing at all 
incriminating in the house.  You think she knew what her husband 
was up to?"

Calhoun declared positively, "Think about their flight, sergeant!  
That's a clear indication of guilt, almost as good as a 
confession, and Narvis can use it in court."


* * *


On empty nighttime roads, even narrow and twisty, the Ohio 
Turnpike south of Toledo is only two hours away from Bering for a 
knowing driver -- who Paul and Jenny were not.  Her car did not 
even contain a map, and they were unwilling to show themselves to 
station attendants in Ohio.  Thus a glorious morning had 
announced itself when they finally reached the superhighway after 
twice getting lost.  Jenny had long before thrown up her hands 
and reclined the back of her seat to sleep restlessly as Paul 
aimed the car generally westward.

Once on the turnpike they were in Indiana after an hour, and Paul 
dared to refill the fuel tank.  Thirty minutes after that he 
brought the vehicle to a halt in the driveway of a seedy motel in 
Coldwater, Michigan.  It was too early; no one was about.  So he 
reclined his own seat and fell almost immediately into a stupor 
of exhaustion and relief.

They awoke to a rapping on the window of the driver's side and 
saw a dark hued man, an Asian of some kind, peering in.  Paul 
rolled the window down.

"You can't sleep here," the man said in a lilting English that he 
might have learned in Bangladesh.

"I'm sorry, sir," Paul said obsequiously.  "We had car trouble 
and were late getting here.  Do you have a vacancy?"

The man examined them with mild suspicion but could not turn them 
away because twelve of his seventeen units were unoccupied.

Paul arranged for twin beds, and they were soon secure inside a 
sparse motel room with the disagreeable smell of a powerful 
cleaning agent.  He immediately collapsed on one of the beds and 
fell soundly asleep.  When he awoke some hours later, he 
discovered that Jenny had removed his shoes.  She was asleep on 
the opposite bed, lying on her side facing him with a thumb in 
her mouth.  She looked cute, childlike and vulnerable, although 
she was an adult, a nurse.  He studied her, wondering not for the 
first time what kind of hand fate had now dealt to them.  Her 
eyes blinked open as if she felt the weight of his gaze.

"What time is it?" she asked as she stretched herself like a cat.

"Almost two," Paul replied, glancing at his watch but suddenly 
dazzled by the allure of the pretty woman.

Jenny noticed his look, that of a horny man.  But something else 
in his expression appealed to her; he resembled a lost puppy in 
need of petting.

"It seems we're going to be together for a rather long while," 
she said slowly, rising and sitting on the edge of the bed, 
leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

"Yes, it appears so," he mumbled and looked at his hands.

"We'll never be lovers, you know.  I don't like to be touched.  
It's not something I enjoy."

"You've already made that point unambiguously," he retorted with 
some heat.

"But you're a man.  You have uncontrollable urges.  I think 
you'll wait for a moment when I'm weak and then rape me."

"Damn it, Jenny, I'd never do that!  I'll never force myself on 
you!"

"You say that now, but what about when I'm a bit tipsy and loose.  
I like to drink sometimes.  You'd see it as an invitation and 
take me without resistance, but it would still be rape.  I would 
hate both myself and you afterwards."

He rose and sat on the edge of the bed facing her.  "You're 
really borrowing trouble, Jenny.  Do you think all men treat 
women that way -- or even very many of them?  Don't you know that 
most women love their men, enjoy being with them?"

She snorted.  "I think women are good actresses."  She craned her 
neck around the room.  "I saw you bring that valise in from the 
car.  Where is it?"

He leaned back across his narrow bed, fetched up the valise and 
set it on the floor between them.  It still gaped open, the 
plastic bag of drugs on top of the bundled money.

She lifted the plastic bag to her lap and took out one of the 
small bags containing white powder.  Moistening a finger, she 
gouged a bit of powder on its tip and licked it with a wet, red 
tongue.  She smacked her lips over it, took a deep breath and 
shook her head.  "It's sweetish and numbs the tongue like 
morphine sulfate.  I think it's heroin, Paul.  And something 
else, something bitter."

He asked thoughtfully, "Was your husband -- Bud, did you call 
him?  Was Bud into drugs?"

"Not that I ever knew.  Alcohol was his weakness."

"Well, did he seem to have a lot of money?"

"You're kidding!  You saw my house and car.  I had to give him an 
_allowance_!"

"Then how do you explain this valise?"

Her eyes flared.  "I don't!  I tell you, it wasn't in the shed 
yesterday morning."

"Okay, okay.  Let's count the money, at least, and make sure it's 
not marked or counterfeit."

The valise contained twelve bank-wrapped bundles, each of 50 $20 
bills -- exactly $12,000.  A few bundles seemed crisp and new, 
but mostly they contained well-used bills, some marked with the 
typical red streaks imparted by automatic sorting machines, none 
particularly unusual, all containing fine red and green threads 
visible when held to the afternoon sunlight streaming through a 
window.

"Do we dare to spend this?" Jenny asked, looking up at him wide-
eyed.

He grunted.  "We don't dare not to.  I've got about 50 bucks in 
my pocket and you don't even have your purse.  That damned 
lieutenant thinks we killed our spouses for infidelity and now 
over drugs.  You can bet they're looking for us.

"We need clothes, we need food, we need to make tracks.  And 
don't even think about credit cards!"

She grinned slightly.  "Mine's at the limit anyway."

"So's mine.  Beth saw to it."

Jenny's eyes flashed.  "I still can't believe you let her do 
that!  Bud may have raped me every few days, but at least I kept 
him on $50 per week!"

Paul chuckled grimly.  "I guess that's the difference between me 
and Bud.  I'd rather pay for it than steal it."

"Really?  Did Beth make you pay?"

He shook his head.  "You still don't understand, do you?  Beth 
_lived_ for sex!  She was the opposite of you in every way.  It 
took most of my salary and commissions to support her, yes, but 
the problem was that I couldn't give her enough _sex_, not 
money!"

She stared at him.  "You're right.  I don't understand her.  But 
I do understand that men have to have it."

He sighed.  "Jenny, that's going to make our association 
impossible.  I can't stand to see ... to be on intimate terms 
with a lovely woman, day in and day out, and not touch her."  He 
leaned forward until his face was near hers and said seriously, 
"We need to go our own ways."

"Do you plan to run off with the money and leave me dangling?" 
she asked, head cocked to glare at him.  He took a deep breath.  
God, she was cute!

He protested, "I'm not such a swine as you suppose!  Why don't 
you keep the money and I'll take the car.  I'd rather be in jail 
than live with you like this."

Something about his words and expression calmed her.  Her tone 
softened with concern.  "Paul, I trust you."  She gestured toward 
the outside world.  "You've thrown everything over to help me, 
when most of the police suspicion seems to be directed toward me.  
I'd have to be stupid to ignore that, which I'm not.  I don't 
hate you, Paul."

He sniffed.  "Just all men, eh?"

She nodded slightly.  "You're a good person and I like your 
company, but you're still a man.  I don't want you to leave me.  
I need you now."  She took a deep breath.  "But I know about 
physiology; you need sex every day or so.  We can work something 
out, perhaps some kind of compromise.  I don't want you to touch 
me, but perhaps I could touch you enough to keep you calm."

The man's face gaped in disbelief at the woman's outrageous 
suggestion, which he understood completely.

"You'd deign to stroke me like a puppy?" he sneered.

"Something like that," she replied sweetly, "but of course I 
would always remained fully clothed.  I'm a nurse.  I would 
consider it just a form of physical therapy."

Paul stood abruptly and snorted a brief, derisive laugh.

"So you're willing to give me hand jobs to keep me under control!  
I like the feel and taste of a woman, Jenny, however much you may 
find that repulsive.  What you suggest won't keep me around for 
long."

"I need you for a few months, Paul.  Please try to cooperate."

"Jenny, I can jack off better than you can do me.  What's the 
point?"

"Perhaps you're mistaken about that.  I've known penises since I 
was ten.  I'm going to take a shower now," she said, standing.  
"If you want to do this, be naked when I come out."

Jenny was fully clothed when she closed the bathroom door behind 
her.  He paced the small room listening to the sound of the 
shower.  Eventually he began to unbutton his shirt and unzip his 
trousers.  He lay naked on the bed when she came out of the 
bathroom, again fully clothed.  His modest organ throbbed in its 
erection.

He explained sheepishly, "I can't resist you at all."

"Why should you?" she asked reasonably.  "I'm a nurse, Paul.  I 
know about these things."

She sat on the bed beside him.  Her touch was clinical, expert.  
She looked at the penis and never into his face.  Her fingers 
grazed it, pinched it gently, played with it.  Her other hand 
rose to exhibit a small tube of complimentary facial cream from 
the motel bathroom.  She smeared it along her forefinger, thumb 
and the web between them, then formed those digits into a ring 
around the knob.  Laying the tube aside, her free hand cupped his 
testicles.  She proceeded to pump the rod smoothly, without the 
least awkwardness.

"Close your eyes," she suggested.

Now the greased ring felt like a rictus of wet lips.  It brought 
him to a spurting climax within several seconds.  "Oh, god!" he 
groaned as she directed his pleasure all over belly and chest.

"Now it's time for your shower," Jenny smirked, looking into his 
face finally.  "And then we can get on to wherever we're going.  
Late lunch, I think."

He licked his lips.  "Jenny, where in hell did you learn that 
trick with the ring?"

"I told you, I'm a nurse."

His voice was incredulous.  "They teach that in nursing school?"

She frowned.  "Well, no."  The frown became a slight grin.  "Just 
the opposite.  They teach you how to make one shrink if it pops 
up embarrassingly."

"By jacking it off?"  His disbelief was complete.

"No, of course not.  By thumping it in the right place."

"Ouch!  But who taught you about the ring?  I can't believe a 
rapist would make you do that when your cunt was handy!"

She studied him and sighed.  "If I tell you about that, maybe 
you'll leave me alone."

"Try me."

She dropped her eyes and her voice.  "Paul ... I'm really not a 
very nice person."

"Oh, no?"

"I ... had a younger brother that I baby-sat.  When my cousin 
kept on raping me, and bringing his friends, I ..."

"His friends!  Go on."

"This is hard, Paul.  I never told anyone about it."

"Well, your little brother knows.  Did you screw him to get back 
at men?"

"No, he doesn't.  He's dead."

"But you screwed him first?"

"No, no! ...  Well, almost.  I tried to find out what made boys 
do what they did to me.  I really studied his little thing.  His 
first ejaculation was in the ring, as you call it.  We both knew 
it was bad.  But I kept going to his room at night.  He was the 
only one I ever _asked_ to touch me.  But we never had proper 
sex."

"Maybe I understand.  Do you blame yourself for his death?"

"A little bit.  He refused to go camping the year he was twelve.  
The next year Mother said it was unhealthy for him to stay at 
home so much.  She made him go.  He drowned in a lake."

"But you weren't anywhere nearby, were you!"

"No, but they were supposed to learn to swim the year before, the 
year he wouldn't leave me."

"Jenny, Jenny!"  His voice was soft in sympathy.  "Don't you know 
that you have to be careful with cause and effect?  If you carry 
an event back far enough, everyone is guilty of it."

Her gaze on his was wooden.  "Not even Mother is as guilty as I 
am.  He would have been all right if he had learned to swim."  A 
large tear popped over one eyelid and streaked down her cheek.

She dashed the remaining tears from her eyes and stood up 
suddenly.  "If you don't get a shower, Paul, you'll stick to your 
clothes."

"Okay.  I'll take a shower."

"Hurry up, will you?  I'm hungry.  And we've both got to find 
something else to wear."


* * *


"You're early," she observed when Slim closed the door behind 
himself.

"A little," he admitted.  He stood before her with both hands 
behind his back.  "Maybe I'm tired of you popping me in the 
chops.  And maybe I brought you a present."

"A present?"  Her eyes narrowed.  "What're you up to, sonny boy?"

His hand came around with a folded newspaper that he opened for 
her inspection, an extended finger indicating a short article 
with the title, "Surviving Spouses Flee."  Busts of Paul and 
Jenny flanked the article.  He said, "Your idea worked.  They're 
on the run."

She sniffed.  "Did you forget the TV?  I already saw it."

"Bet you didn't see _this_ on TV."  His other hand appeared 
holding a curiously decorated U-shaped contraption.

She blinked as she took it from him.  Her fingers squeezed the 
pliable surface.  A grin spread her cheeks.  "A double dildo!  
Now that's more like it!"  She cocked an eyebrow at him.  "But 
who can we try it on?"

"Yeah, _who_!  Is it too early for your bath?"

"Were you thinking of helping me with it?"

"If you wish."

She chuckled.  "Your voice is not so indifferent as your words."

His face was solemn.  "I've been saving it for you."

"Have you!  Then you need to be rewarded for being a good boy."  
She rose to her feet with the sprightliness of a young girl.

They left their clothing in the main room.  In the bathroom she 
threw a plastic air cushion into the tub, climbed in and sat upon 
it, looking back at him expectantly.  Proceeding methodically, he 
placed another cushion under her head while water ran in the 
sink, then played the now hot water at length over the double 
dildo and a tube of lubricating jelly.  When the warm dildo was 
well smeared with warm jelly, he crouched in the foot of the tub 
and applied the toy between the woman's drawn up legs.

"Oh, yes!" she murmured, eyes drifting shut as her finger 
descended to find the clitoris.  He worked the projections in and 
out of her, alternating top and bottom, sometimes both in 
parallel.  She groaned in orgasm.  He kept thrusting even though 
she grasped his wrist.  Finally she released him.  She seemed to 
relax completely, head falling back.  She sighed and a yellow 
fluid sprayed over his hand.  Only when it ceased did he finally 
withdraw the dildo.

He stretched over her to deposit the stained toy in the sink.  
Her hand rose to grip him.  Resting his elbows on the sink, he 
held the pose while she sucked half the oversized organ into her 
mouth.  Her tongue was well acquainted with the sensitive spots.  
She relaxed it when he began to squirt.  Only one white rivulet 
escaped at the corner of her lips.

As she had taught him on similar occasions, he lingered above 
her, the knob between her lips.  Her finger, bringing lubricant 
from her groin, entered his rectum, curving forward to find the 
prostate.  She rubbed until it relaxed its urethral closure.  
Slowly at first but with increasing volume, yellow fluid escaped 
from her mouth.  Looking past his flat belly, he could see it 
coursing from chin to shoulders and chest, dripping from erect 
nipples.  When it ceased, he finally withdrew to stand up in the 
foot of the tub.

Looking up at him, she smiled wanly and announced as she had 
before, "Men are made so peculiarly!"

"You know all about it, don't you, Mamma?"  He clambered out of 
the tub and stood with his hands on curtain and water controls.  
"Ready for your shower?"

Her eyes glittered.  "You're a real son of a bitch, aren't you, 
Slim, pissing in your mother's mouth!"

"That's me.  Next time I'll piss up her ass."

"Don't get smart with me, you little shit!"

He grinned.  "Not _smart_, Ma:  spicy."

She licked her lips and nodded.  "Yeah, spicy.  You're exactly 
what I would be if I was a man."


* * *


They had an early supper at Denny's on Coldwater's main street, 
US 12, and afterwards they headed back toward I69 to a large 
shopping mall, where they purchased clothes at the K-Mart.

"Have you noticed that all the men and most of the boys wear bill 
caps?" Jenny asked disapprovingly.

"We're in a different culture here," Paul explained.  "These are 
all down home folk.  They make me nervous, because they expect 
you to be one of them.  They get uptight if you reveal yourself 
to be somehow different."

"You mean they're hicks!"

"I wouldn't be that cruel, but you're essentially correct."

The sun was still high in the sky.  She regarded him inquiringly.  
"And just what do we do now?"

"We could drive down to the lake," he suggested, "or go over to 
Allen to visit the flea markets."

"The flea markets!  Are we far enough away from ... home?"

"Two states!  I think we can relax a little bit."

"You know this area, do you?"

"Yes.  Beth and I spent a couple of summers at Coldwater Lake.  A 
cousin of mine has a cottage there."

Jenny's expression perked up.  "Is it available?  Could we stay 
there for a while?"

"Well, somebody is likely to be there this time of the year, but 
we could check it out."

"Let's do it, Paul.  Maybe the place is vacant.  Do you know how 
to get in?"

"Sure.  There's a key in the planter next to the front door."

They got into the car and drove south on I69 to Kinderhook and 
back up on a county road to the trail that led to the lake. No 
vehicle sat next to the cottage, they saw as their car stopped on the road, 
but Paul was cautious.  "People might be out fishing or to 
supper."

The small house proved unoccupied when they let themselves in.  
Everything was stored away.  The double bed was bare, though 
bedclothes were present in the linen closet.

"Well!" Jenny exclaimed in relief after their reconnoiter of the 
place.  She flopped onto the couch.

"We're safe for awhile," Paul noted with a smile, sitting in an 
opposite chair.

He stared at her lithe, reclining form, slender thighs swelling 
her jeans and pert breasts poking up.  She noticed his gaze.

"I thought I took care of you back at the motel," she groused.

"I'm still a young guy."

She looked down her nose at him.  "You can't want it again so 
soon!"

He laughed.  "Men vary, Jenny.  And you are a stimulating woman.  
If I could see you nude, I think I'd be sniffing after --"

"Shut up!" she ordered, her mouth twisting.  "How disgusting!"

He cocked his head to consider her.  "Just looking would disgust 
you?"

"Well ..."  She looked away.  "It would embarrass me."  She 
squirmed slightly.  Her hand moved toward the crotch of her new 
jeans but veered away.  She took a breath.  "Let's find out what 
we have to do to be safe, Paul.  Suppose your cousin should come 
here?"

"Don't worry about that.  He's gone on some kind of assignment.  
I _am_ a bit surprised the place isn't rented!"

She stood up and flipped a wall switch.  A lamp lit.  "At least 
the electricity is turned on.  Let's look around and see who 
might notice a light here."

He grinned.  "Nobody now; the woods are too thick.  I don't think 
anyone will notice us as long as we stay out of the lake.  Of 
course, we could go swimming at night."

"Swimming?  We didn't buy suits."

"Who needs suits in the dark?"

"Ugh!"  She whirled away and strode onto the screened porch.


* * *


They went back into town, eschewing the closer markets, for 
groceries to stock the cabin's small refrigerator.  They ate TV 
dinners late, put sheets on the bed and discovered that the 
television set was antenna-less.  It received only snow.

"Darn!" Jenny complained.  "To think I saw three books in the 
food market by my favorite author!"

"You should've bought them."

"You said we were buying too much already."

He shrugged, then grinned.  "First time a woman ever obeyed me 
about buying something."

"Well, I'm not sleepy.  What do we do for entertainment?  Do you 
play cards?"

"No cards."  He stood up and began to unbutton his shirt.

"You can't be sleepy!" she declared incredulously.

Off came the shirt.  He started on his pants.

"Paul ..." she began, eyeing him.

"I need some more calming," he announced piously, kicking off his 
loafers.  She watched with a sour expression as socks and 
underwear finished in a pile on the floor.  He laid back atop the 
bed, stark naked except for a wristwatch, hands clasped behind 
his head.

She sighed, getting reluctantly to her feet.  "Paul, are you 
really going to want this twice a day?"

"No.  I *want* it ten times a day!"

"God!  Now I'm entangled with a male nymphomaniac.  From the 
frying pan into the fire!"

He smiled.  "But twice a day will work."

She frowned.  "Men are always slower the second time."

He grunted.  "Most women depend on that."

"Huh?  What do you mean?"

"For their specialty:  multiple orgasms.  That's the best, you 
know.  When a woman really gets turned on, she'll come off as 
long as her man keeps humping."

"What do _you_ know about it?"

"You think a man can't tell?  I've seen Beth come for a solid 
hour."

She sniffed.  "No, I _don't_ think a man can tell for sure!"

"Huh!  Nobody would fake it that long."

"Ah hour?  She'd have to have a cast-iron ... stomach."

He grinned.  "You mean _cunt_?"

With a sniff she turned away to the bathroom, returning with a 
newly purchased jar of cold cream.  He scooted over to make room 
for her to sit on the bedside.  She applied the cream to her hand 
as before but stiffened when she turned to him.  "It's not even 
hard!"

He sighed.  "This is awfully clinical, Jenny."  He sighed again.  
"Was your brother's always hard?"

"If he was expecting me."

"Sometime he wasn't?"

"Well, sometimes he was asleep."

"What did you do."

"In the summer he would throw the sheets off."

"Did he sleep naked?"

"Yes.  No.  In the winter he wore a pajama shirt."

"When you found him naked and asleep with the covers kicked off, 
what did you do?"

"I ... well ..."

"You sucked him, didn't you?"

She didn't answer, except that her suddenly red cheeks were 
answer enough.  She looked away, flexing her greased hand.

He asked, "Do you feel guilty about that, too?"

"We both did," she answered softly, eyes lowered.  "But it didn't 
stop us.  I would reverse myself in his bed and ... and ..."

He grinned.  "And you loved it, didn't you!"

"Oh, god, Paul, I certainly did!  Though I would wake up in the 
wee hours and feel sure God would kill me before morning.  But 
only with my sweet --  Ha!  It's hard now."  Her hand encircled 
him and she began to pump.

He suggested softly, "We could do that, too, Jenny, without any 
guilt whatsoever."

Her hand trembled slightly but resolutely pumped on.  "Isn't it 
illegal?"

"Who knows?  Everything's illegal somewhere.  But who cares!  
Nothing's guilty between a man and a woman who want to please 
each other."

"If you really want to please me, Paul, hurry up and come."

"If you want it to hurry up, take off your clothes and let me 
kiss you."

"_Kiss_ me!  I don't want kissing, but even so, why would I have 
to take --  You mean _there_?"  She paused to stare at him.

"I would love to kiss you _there_, Jenny."

Her cheeks were red again.  "Please hurry up, Paul.  _Now_ this 
is embarrassing me."

He caught her wrist.  "I don't want to embarrass you, Jenny."

She stared at him.  The red faded and her eyes narrowed.  "Then 
let me finish."

He enclosed her hand with his own and began to move them faster.  
He said with effort, "Play with my balls, too."

Her other hand slipped between his legs.

"Squeeze harder," he told her thickly, moving the hands in a 
blur.  His eyes drifted closed.  "I wish your cunt was over my 
face.  I may have a short dick, Jenny, but I've been told I have 
a longer than average tongue."

She stared at his face, now showing a blush of his own.  His 
tongue came out lapping.

"I can imagine your clit right here...  Agh!"

He stiffened and the cool liquid flooded her hand, now capping 
the purple knob.  He groaned, hand falling away, leaving her to 
complete his climax, which she accomplished conscientiously.

She left him panting on the bed, found a paper towel to wipe her 
hands and went out to sit on the porch's rustic bench until the 
mosquitoes found her.  Meanwhile Paul had turned out the light.  
She stood in the dark beside the bed and listened to his snores 
for a while.  Heaving a sigh, she shrugged, stripped off her 
clothing, donned the new high-necked nightgown and cautiously 
slipped into the bed beside him, careful not to touch.


* * *


"Why did you marry Bud, if you're so adverse to men?"

They were sitting on a log to get the benefit of the breeze off 
the lake.  His question came out of the blue and startled Jenny, 
who struggled to find an answer.

"He was a small man, almost like my kid brother," she eventually 
said.  "He even looked a bit like him."

"He had a small cock?

"A slender one, yes."

"Perhaps like mine?"

"Quite a bit longer than yours.  Too long, if you want to know 
the truth."

"Then mine is just right?"

"He was a patient of mine at the hospital," she continued, 
ignoring his transparent solicitation.  "He was broken up after a 
car wreck, yet he still managed to rape me."

"Was he in traction?'

"Yeh."

"And you say he raped you?"

"That's the way I felt about it afterwards," she said with a 
sigh.  "I did the ring thing for him a couple times.  Somehow he 
found out I ... liked to do it.  He sweet talked me into giving 
him a blow job and gagged me with his stuff."

"Jenny, I don't understand how you could consider that rape.  It 
may have been inconsiderate of him, but he could hardly have 
forced himself on you."

Jenny glared at him.  "You guys always stick together!"

"Be reasonable, woman!  You seem to have a phobia about men, and 
whenever you surrender yourself to your natural instincts you 
call it rape."

"Don't tell me that, you callous bastard!  It _is_ rape!"

"When you accept a man willingly ...  You think that's rape?"

"But I _don't_ accept him!  I never accepted one."

"How about your brother?"

"Right.  Throw that at me!  And look what it led to."

He studied her thoughtfully for a moment, then said in an even 
voice, "In that case, Jenny, I would very much like to rape you.  
I would do it gently and with a loving touch, but I need your 
permission."

"You ...  I can't believe it!  You _admit_ that's what you want?"

"By your definition.  But I'd be very gentle, Jenny."

She averted her eyes and mumbled, "I don't like it too gentle."

Paul edged closer to her on the log.  Suddenly she stood up and 
announced, "I'm going into the cabin."

He followed her immediately.  Inside she sprawled on the couch.  
He knelt on the floor beside her.

"I want to rape you first with a small kiss," he whispered with 
his lips brushing her cheek.

The lids of her large brown eyes closed in apparent submission.  
Paul felt a predator's excitement as his lips pressed to those of 
the pretty woman, who puckered in response.  Both realized it was 
their first kiss.

She groaned softly when he licked her neck with the whole width 
of his tongue while fondling her small left breast.

"Will you forgive me?" he begged, fumbling with the buttons of 
her blouse.

"Hurry," was her response.

He almost smiled.  Finally he knew the game, and he resolved to 
take his time.  He undid the blouse.  Jenny helped him remove it, 
then the brassiere.  Her breasts were modest, nicely formed, pale 
mounds of soft flesh surmounted by pink nipples.  Paul suckled 
one ardently as he fondled the other.  Jenny groaned again and 
petted his head.

"Do you feel violated?" he asked slyly, raising his head for a 
moment to gaze into the woman's pretty face.  It was drawn in 
passion.

"Please, don't talk," she gasped and squirmed her lower body in 
obvious excitement.

She lifted her buttocks to assist his removal of her jeans, then 
her panties.

"You're exquisite," he breathed at the sight of her pale, slender 
legs and the moist pubic bush.  He pushed his face into that nest 
and flicked out his tongue.

The woman flinched.  "No, no!  I'm nasty!"  But she immediately 
ceased to resist, allowing him to spread her legs wider to 
accommodate his head.

Was it possible that her younger brother's tongue was the last 
here? Paul wondered.  Had her previous lovers been so selfish?  
Her aroma was overwhelming, her wetness oozed.  He seized the 
hood of her clitoris with his teeth and nibbled it and then 
sucked it into his mouth.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed and writhed her body against his face.  
Then she screeched while gripping his head tightly between her 
thighs.  He knew enough to quit then.  The woman was finished, 
but only for the moment.

He stood and slowly undressed as she watched him with a 
dissipated expression.

"I'm going to put this into you," he said when he was naked, 
wagging his erect cock back and forth.  "Is it rape?"

"Perhaps," she replied and spread her legs in invitation.

He came upon her awkwardly on the couch.  He saw her grimace as 
he felt the knob penetrate her.  Her mouth opened wide to emit a 
shuddering gasp when he plunged all the way.  She was tight, warm 
and slick.  He feared he would come too soon.

Her hands pulled his face to hers for a desperate, wet kiss.  She 
pushed herself back against her lover's thrusts, becoming wild in 
her excitement, which amused him and bought him some time.  He 
noted quickly which strokes she preferred and banged them home.  
When she began to scream, he let himself go and joined her in 
ecstasy.

He was still inside of her, his manhood softening.  "Do you feel 
raped?" He asked, brushing his lips lightly against hers.

"No," she replied with a grand smile.  "It was almost a virginal 
experience."  Her smile faded.  "But how will I feel at four in 
the morning?"

He dipped his head but assured her with a smirk, "If you wake me 
up, I'll make you feel just as great again."




NEXT:  Chapter 5: Minor Exploits
Varangian:  ludmax11@hotmail.com
Kellis:     kellis@dhp.com

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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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