Older couple dominated.

[Walt_13]

I'm looking for someone to write me a personalized story....PLEASE....
A older couple...late fortys..is dominated by younger person or persons...we can discuss the ages of all...and set the sceen.
Please e-mail me for details...
wwilkinson@cogeco.ca
Thank you for your time...looking forward to hearing from someone...

 

[chatbug]

For anyone interested in developing this topic:

A young couple moves next door to an older couple, realizes that the older man lusts after the younger woman and uses that lust to the younger couple's advantage.

Same idea except the older woman lusts after the younger man.

Older couple borrows money from younger couple and has to "pay it back".

 

[Walt_13]

I like your ideas...

Try this...the old man likes to hide in the garage and watch the young lady next door..he does what cums naturally...lol
Sometimes he watches the young male....he is not sure why...but we know..lol...
One day he finds a playgirl magazine with photos of young big cocks...he hides it in the garage....
The young male neighbor comes over to borrow something the older lady sends him out to the garage....he catches the old man with the magazine open..and his little (5 inch ) cock in hand while stareing out the window at the young lady next door...
Take it from there...Thanks...Walt...
by the way ...I'm not 13 yrs old....or 13 inches long...darn it....lol

 

[Tatewaki]

I'm looking for someone to write me a personalized story....PLEASE....
A older couple...late fortys..is dominated by younger person or persons...we can discuss the ages of all...and set the sceen.
Please e-mail me for details...
wwilkinson@cogeco.ca
Thank you for your time...looking forward to hearing from someone...

Walt;

The second half will be completed once I return home on June 2nd from the west coast. In the meantime, here is the cleaned up first half. If there is anything you want added/changed, let me know. The book is open until the 2nd.

Regards,

-T

PS: I do intend to change all passive verbs to active, remove the excessive adverbs, and to eliminate redundancies when I return home. The story will, however, not substantially change.

--
Title: Unhappy Anniversary (Part I)
Keywords: BDSM, Non-Consent, Male, Female
Author: Tatewaki

Walter and Sheila don't have a happy wedding anniversary ...

Revision: 3.5 Date: May 25, 2002 (9:54pm)

§§§

The white stretch limo made its ponderous way down the road. It was just after 10:30 in the evening on a sultry night in July. Inside the limo lounged an older couple, sipping champagne and deep in animated conversation. They spoke to each other with the easy familiarity that only long association gives. Sheila and Walter were coming home from Polanski's 'Dance of the Vampires,' a scrumptious seafood dinner at the Sandbar and the requisite round of after dinner cocktails. Music, a fine meal and a precise measure of alcohol practically guaranteed that Walter's advances would meet with acceptance tonight. His darling wife liked sex, just that he enjoyed it a hell of a lot more often than she decided to let him have it. The entrance to Dawson Park loomed ahead, the white posts lunging out of the darkness. On a whim, Walter tapped on the glass partition between them and the chauffeur.

"Pull over here, driver," Walter said, his alcohol thickened tongue slurring his words. He had taken advantage of the limo's impressive supply of champagne to keep his buzz's edge honed to bludgeon-sharpness. Not so his wife, who drank sparingly and had all of her mental faculties intact.

"What? Why?" Sheila said, confused as to why he wanted to stop here.

The driver didn't bother to question the bizarre order. The limo pulled over to shoulder the road, coming to stop at the twin posts and lintel that demarked the entrance to Dawson Park. The Japanese-inspired gateway looked quite pretty, giving the place a refined air that tickled Walter's fancy.

"I'm in the mood for walking, like we used to do when we were first married."

Sheila looked at him in surprise. "We couldn't afford to rent a car when we were first married, much less a limo."

"So now when we walk it should be by choice and not by necessity."

"You still have the limo for another 45 minutes," the driver interjected smoothly. "You sure you want out?"

"Consider it time off for good behaviour. Here's a tip for your services." Walter slipped the driver $50 through the slightly lowered partition.

"Thanks! I really like driving older folks around. They know how to treat people. Goodnight, sir." The driver looked as if he was about to rub his hands together in glee.

"Goodnight," Walter replied. Sheila only glared at the navy suited driver. Even after the limo turned the corner, Sheila's heated gaze threatened to blister the paint right off of it.

"Older couples indeed," she said with a snort. "Young punk!"

"He meant no harm, baby."

Sheila rubbed her hands over her sizable breasts. "Look at me! Do I look like a candidate for the old folks' home yet?"

"Hmm. Not yet." Walter never could get enough of his shapely wife. She looked particularly sexy this evening dressed in her clingy white dress accented with swarovsky strass studs. Her breasts and hips were decently covered, but her bare belly and navel showed enticingly through the missing left section of the painted on garment. Jazzercise, Aquafit and Yoga kept Sheila supple, shapely and sexy. Her clear Lucite stiletto sandals made an already incredible looking woman look that much more fuckable. Could it really be that they were married for 26 years tonight? They'd been practically children on their wedding night, but the luscious 47 year old before him was no longer a child. Though her sapphire blue eyes still twinkled with a certain mischievousness that stripped decades from her. She had the delightful swells of a mature woman and the legs of a 20-year-old exotic dancer. What a combination! Walter wrapped his hands around his voluptuous wife, enjoying the feel of his woman's shapely ass between his grasping hands as he kissed her deeply. She liked to kiss as much now as she did back then. Some things had never changed between them.

"Walk with me, baby."

"What choice do I have? Our chariot and our asshole driver have departed."

"Hey, I couldn't resist. I couldn't very well fuck my wife with him watching us, could I?"

"Walter!"

"I wanted you all night. Come here." Walter again pulled his wife to him, enjoying the way she molded herself to him. She allowed him his heated kisses and his fingers to worm themselves through her perfectly coiffed brown hair. Her sighs told him that she enjoyed his caresses as much as he did. Oh yes, some things never change!

"Let's just walk for now," she said, pushing her man away with a firm yet playful shove. "Save something for later on tonight."

"You promise, baby?"

"Of course I do."

"You won't fall asleep on me again, will you?"

Sheila's look of indignation could well-serve a priest accused of buggery. "What do you mean? Have I ever?"

"If I answer that honestly will you still sleep with me tonight?"

Sheila smacked Walter on the arm. "Let me give you something to show you how serious I am about tonight."

Sheila waltzed over to the nearest tree, leaning her back against it as she pulled up her skirt, an agonizing inch at a time. As she teased up the tight sheath of a garment, she undulated her ass and hips. She used the same smooth, seductive motions a snake charmer did when he entranced a cobra with his sinuous, swaying movements. Walter felt her magic, his eyes moving in tandem with her lithe body. She held her dress up with one hand as she rolled down her panties, revealing a prettily trimmed pussy, the narrow V pattern shaved to Walter's precise specifications. He was as proud of her pussy as he was of his children. It and his boys were the most important things in his life. He doted on all three. Sheila's inner lips had descended, the puffy, flared flesh a sure sign of her arousal. It wasn't only her husband who had sex on his mind this evening! That was good news for Walter.

"You’re all damp, baby. You should let me take care of your needs right here."

"Maybe I should, but I won't. It's just a little something to whet your appetite. You'll get the main course once we get home."

"You have to give me a little more appetizer than that to keep me satisfied until then."

Sheila stayed put as Walter pressed her body against his own, rubbing his crotch against her bared mound. Her nostrils flared as his bulging crotch grazed against her sensitive nether lips. The rough wool of his slacks felt great as it slid over her most intimate of spaces. Lubrication glazed her sex, spend she undoubtedly smeared all over his dark blue slacks. Somehow, she figured her husband wouldn't mind. When he got into this state he usually cared about nothing except for cracking into her sweet honeypot. His ardour for her always made her feel wanted. Never once had he failed to satisfy her sexually, and he took every opportunity he could to make love to her. Never had he done anything to make her feel unappreciated or unloved. On the contrary, sometimes his constant advances tired her. Today was a special day, and she'd do her best to show interest in him and to satisify his needs.

Walter slid his hand between his wife legs, slipping two fingers inside of her grasping cleft, and wiggling them up inside of her. His thumb pressed against her shrouded clitoris, sending an electric jolt through her that tingled from her nipples to her asshole. When he raised his juice-slickened hand and brought it close to their faces, she got a good whiff of her musky, feminine scent. He grinned widely as his brought his wet fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean.

"I love how sweet you taste. I bet I taste just as good, baby."

Shit! Here it came, the moment she had dreaded. "Oh Walter, not now!"

"Why not now? I've waited 26 years for this. Just this once, won't you even consider it?"

"No."

"Come on, baby. Let me have your mouth."

Walter placed his hands gently upon his wife's shoulders, sliding the straps of her clingy white dress off of her shoulders before pressing down firmly upon her. Sheila descended to her knees as graceful as a dancer would have. Walter's hungry gaze would’ve told her everything she needed to know about his intentions, even if he hadn't already spoken of them. He unzipped his slacks and tugged out his cock, a maneuver aided by his lack of underwear. His cock felt like an iron bar sheathed in satin as he rubbed the bulbous head over her lower lip, mussing her dusty rose lipstick. Salty precome leaked out of his slit, the moisture causing her to lick her lips automatically. A bit of tongue accidentally stroked the very tip of his cockhead, eliciting a sharp moan from him.

"Open up and suck on me," he said, growling deep in his chest.

"No!" She leaped to her feet, gaining her footing unsteadily. Her heels sunk into the grass like needles piercing through flesh. Anger flashed in her eyes and crackled in her voice. Why did he have to pull this shit tonight? "No, Walter!" Sheila turned her back on him and stalked off angrily, her perfectly round derriere shaking as she strutted away. Walter stood with cock in hand, again left wondering why his wife always refused to perform fellatio upon him. She would accept oral from him, though! If she had her way he'd be sucking on her quim from sunup to sundown without taking a break to breathe. Her idea of the perfect man was one with a ten inch tongue and a blowhole on top of his head. He loved his wife dearly, but despised this selfish hangup of hers.

Sheila stopped walking, looking wide-eyed at the trees and shrubbery in the park. She took a step backwards in Walter's direction. He still stood there staring at his wife's delectable, jiggling ass confined in her tight white dress.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Walter said petulantly.

"That noise."

"Yeah. Just a raccoon or something."

"Mighty big raccoon."

"Okay, a deer, then. No big deal," he said, though he did crane his head to the side and listen intently. Sheila searched the face of her 49-year-old husband. His intense hazel eyes glittered in the dim lights of the park. He kept himself trim by doing a lot of walking and some light exercise. There was little fat on him, a testament to healthy living. Not many six foot men could claim to still be 180 pounds when they approached their fiftieth birthday. She'd always felt safe in his presence. Whatever was out there he could handle it. His face looked more curious than worried. She returned to her man, moving as close to him as she could without actually touching him. He snuggled up behind her, peeling up the rear of her tight dress so he could nuzzle his cock between her compressed asscheeks.

"Not now, Walter! I'm really scared!"

"If this is the only way I'll get to touch you tonight, I'm going to take it." Before Sheila could answer him, a loud rustling broke out in the shrubbery.

"Holy shit, what's that?" Those sounds sure as hell weren't from any bloody raccoon. He couldn't imagine a deer making so much racket, either. If anything, it sounded like a bear. Walter took a step back from his wife and tucked his cock back into his pants. If anything was going to happen in the next few seconds he'd be damned if he faced it with his dick hanging out.

All he had wanted was to have a little fun tonight. Why must a nice romantic walk with his lifelong love after supper not end with his anticipated fuck underneath the stars? Instead, he’d found stress and drama. Why did all of his best laid plans always go awry?

§§§

The rustling got louder. A hulk of a person stepped out of the brush lining the pathway and quickly approached the startled couple. Only the motion of the person made him distinguishable from the shadows. His black clothing saw to that. The knee-high leather boots, the belt made of webbing, the leather trench coat, the military fatigues and the T-shirt all looked like solidified night. Not even his clothing could obscure his exceptional physique. A blond pigtail pulled his hair back. He stopped in front of the alarmed couple, smoothing back his hair with the palm of an upraised hand. Only after he performed that gesture did Walter notice that the overdeveloped pectoral muscles actually were female breasts. This close, he could make out her delicate facial features. With a little makeup and care she might have been pretty. However the woman's wide-set eyes and slack jaw marked her as a mental deficient. Walter picked up a stout branch from the ground then pulled Sheila behind him. People taller than his six feet always made him nervous.

"Hello." The single whispered word shocked Walter and Sheila both. They hadn't expected the giantess to speak, much less to whisper.

"Uh, hello," Sheila replied.

"What do you want?" Walter's brusque voice echoed through the park.

"Nice night, isn't it? The park is pretty. Very pretty. I like it."

"Yeah, it's beautiful," Walter said. "Keep walking."

"Why are you here? It's dark." The woman kept her speech low in volume. She whispered as if she feared the sound of her own voice. Walter hated people who whispered when standing right in front of you even more than he did lumbering brutes.

"It's light enough," he replied. Walter and Sheila resumed walking, moving backwards toward the road and the white Japanese Torii. He intended to get back to the bright lights of the street.

"Where are you two going?" the woman asked.

"What's that to you? Get lost!" A touch of hysteria entered Walter's voice, unsettling Sheila. She recognized the sign. If left unchecked, Walter might do something incredibly stupid.

"Walter. She's slow, hon. We're coming home from a show."

"A show? I like the movies. Do you?"

"It's not that kind of show, dear. It's a live show. A musical."

The big woman's face lit up. "Yeah? They sometimes sing in the movies, too."

"Well, this one is more like a play, but it features a lot of singing and dancing."

"Like Moulin Rouge?"

"Yes, dear," Sheila said with a small laugh. "Very much like Moulin Rouge."

"That one made me sad. I cried for the man. He was lonely."

Walter's patience neared the breaking point. "Sheila, what the hell are you up to? Let's get out of here."

Walter clamped his hand around Sheila's slight wrist and dragged her back to the roadway. The blonde wall moved towards him. Walter smacked her across the back of her outstretched hand with his stout branch. The woman wailed like a child spanked by her irate parent.

"Walter!" Sheila yelled.

"That hurts!"

"Stop that! I'm so sorry, um --"

"I'm Georgia!" The woman beamed as she spoke her name, as if it was a great accomplishment to be asked this question.

"Hello, Georgia. I'm Sheila. That's Walter."

"I'm sorry, Sheila. I thought he was hurting you."

"Walter? No, he's just rough and thoughtless sometimes."

"Me, thoughtless?"

"Look. Here's some money. Please take it." Sheila fished a bill out of her iridescent silver and white leather purse.

"That's okay. I don't need it, really."

"I want you to have it. Please?"

Sheila slipped the larger woman a fresh $50 bill. Georgia's strong, calloused hands had clean, trimmed fingernails. Definitely a working person's hands.

"What the hell, Sheila? She scares the shit out of us and then you pay her for the privilege?" Temper filled his voice, displacing his fear with anger.

"I scared you?"

"Yeah you dumb ox! Who wouldn't be after some gargantuan ape crashes out of the shrubbery late at night all dressed in black? You got your money, so beat it!"

"I’d never hurt you, Sheila. Not you." Georgia cut a hard, reproachful glance at Walter, rubbing her bruised hand while doing so. Only a fool wouldn't take the hint. Sometimes, foolish described Walter best.

"Yeah, whatever. Take a hike before I feed you some more of the same." Walter waved his branch in case slack jaw didn't understand him. Georgia's eyes narrowed even more than before.

"Goodbye, Sheila." The warmth of her voice was incongruous when compared to the frost in the gaze she directed at Walter.

"Bye, dear."

Georgia turned and headed back the way she had come, crashing through the brush. Walter and Sheila stood still, straining their ears until they could hear nothing more.

"What the hell's with you? Why did you give her money? Christ, I can't even afford a trench coat like that! What made you think she needed cash?"

"She did need it. Not the money, but the display of kindness. Didn't you see her eyes?"

"What about her eyes?"

"They were so sad, Walter. She seemed almost desperate to speak to us, if only for a little while."

"So what?"

"No one deserves to look that lonely."

What was she going on about? What did she know about loneliness, anyway? They’d been together since high school and had raised two boys. They had many close friends and kept in contact with other members of their family. At Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving their house filled to capacity. Why did she sound as if she didn't know a soul worth knowing?

"Speaking of lonely, why don't we get back to what we were doing before?" Walter waggled his eyebrows in emphasis, already knowing that his lame attempt at levity wouldn’t be well received.

"Walter, please! Let's get home. I'm suddenly tired."

He’d expected this. "Of course you are," he said. He felt weary now, as well.

They walked in absolute silence. Every so often Walter stole glances at his wife. So beautiful, but beautiful in that cold, pristine way that the Arctic tundra was beautiful. At that very moment Sheila was as distant as the moon's surface, even though the full moon looked like he could just reach out and pluck it out of the sky. That was Sheila, as real as a dream and just as ephemeral. He didn't dare touch his wife right now, instead thrusting his hands into his pockets of his slacks. He had a feeling it would be a long walk home.

§§§

It amused Walter to see how a pleasant walk home could feel so dreadful. A perfect evening had been ruined by the appearance of a stranger. He had wanted to do something special for his wedding anniversary. Partaking of a two mile walk home did not qualify. A stroll of less than a mile directly through the park had been almost tripled in distance because of the unexpected detour. Neither one of them wanted to cut through the shadowy trails of Dawson Park any longer, so they took the longer route that circumvented it.

Their route home took them through an old section of their neighborhood littered with once fine homes that had fallen into various states of disrepair. A few of their neighbors, just like themselves, practically killed themselves in a losing battle to maintain the beauty of their properties. A gorgeous three-bedroom estate with meticulously sculpted shrubbery bordered upon a sprawling ramshackle dwelling with an automobile decomposing upon its blotchy tan and olive lawn. In such a place, was it any wonder that the value of the homes rapidly depreciated? Walter and Sheila had been lucky, so far. Their block remained one of the nicest in the area though he didn't know how long it would remain so.

Sheila stopped suddenly, leaning against Walter while she shucked her heels. She did not speak to him, only used him as a convenient post while she pulled off her clear-vamped strappy sandals. Even when angry, Sheila exuded a heady sensuality that always excited Walter. Watching her walk barefoot made his cock throb in his slacks. He loved to play with her feet, to stroke them, to shove the whole front part of her foot into his mouth and suck all five toes simultaneously while he drove his tongue between them. He would knead her calf muscles and stroke her toned thighs. Even now, watching the play of muscles in her well tuned legs as she walked with her natural sashay made him want to pull her to him and take her right here in the street. Of course, he wouldn't do so. He couldn't think of a faster method of marital suicide than that.

Things were getting hard for him at home. He loved his wife as much as ever, but he couldn't deny that dissatisfaction plagued their relationship. Their love life had gone from steamy to tepid in the last decade, her interest in sex waning in the last couple of years. While actually performing sex she seemed very much into it, but getting her to sleep with him required more coaxing as time went by. It hadn't always been so. Walter would much rather grow with his wife than drift apart from her, but she'd need to start working with him. He might be approaching 50, but Walter knew he still looked good. Many a woman in his office liked flirting with him. He knew of three he could nail tomorrow if he wished, but infidelity didn't interest him. Like a wolf, Walter mated for life. He wished to possess Sheila daily, not some cheap fuck slut from the office. But thirsty men often drank from other women’s wells. If she kept him feeling parched he might have to start looking elsewhere for his water.

Walter's heart leaped for joy when they turned onto Fides Crescent and he saw his home. Two-plus miles made for a long walk, but that wasn't the sole reason he longed to get inside. Relief immediately enveloped him as soon as they were safely ensconced in their house. He used all three locks on the door, something they rarely bothered with. Sheila didn't question his decision. She too felt a trifle uneasy. Tension bled out of them. Sheila wore the same relieved expression as he. When Walter reached out his hand to take her purse she passed it and a conciliatory smile to him.

So, her good mood had returned, had it? Who was he to pass up this opportunity?

Walter tossed her purse on the ground. Her shoes that she held in her hands suffered a similar fate. Once unburdened with such trifles, Walter felt free to push Sheila back against the thick oak door, kneeling before her as he did so. He rolled her dress up, forced her knees apart, then plunged his face deep within her, skewering her with his rigid tongue. Sheila gasped. Her legs spasmed around his head. He grabbed her asscheeks and pried them apart, then used his index finger to tantalize her asshole while he dined on her succulent quim. Sheila's inner thighs trembled.

"You like that, eh?"

"You know I do."

"It's not fair to receive and never to give," Walter said, breathing the words into her simmering snatch. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the toffee leather couch in the living room. He laid her upon the brown leather, then shucked his pants. She watched him with an amused smile upon her lips. She loved the fact that he still desired her, even after all the time they'd been together. His twitching cock filled her vision, the pulsing rod almost tapping her on the nose with every heartbeat that thumped in his chest.

"I should just shove it right into your mouth, Sheila. Just let you have it. I know you'd like it."

"Walter?" She sounded unsure, almost fearful.

"You know I couldn't do that to you. But fuck! You know I want to."

That was it for conversation. Walter fed her his cock, but placed it in her second mouth. He pressed himself into her slowly, relishing the feel of her wet lips gliding over his hardness. She stretched to receive him. He grasped her by the ankles and pulled them straight upwards, folding her over double as he leaned into her. Road dust soiled her petite feet, dirtied from walking home barefoot. A little dirt wouldn't keep him from his prize. Hell, even if she'd trodden on a steaming pile of dog muck he'd have considered it. Walter licked and sucked her feet, cleaning them with his tongue as he made love to his wife. No spot on her feet or her legs went untouched. He played her flesh like a virtuoso. In the rapture of their coupling Walter became oblivious to his surroundings.

"Walter? Something's wrong ..."

"Everything's okay, baby. Just forget about that stuff I laid on you earlier. Sit back and enjoy the ride."

"No, really Walter. I have this feeling."

"Just be quiet," Walter whispered. "Enjoy the fuck." He terminated the conversation by diving into her thirsty pussy, jamming his pelvis hard enough to make her teeth clack together. He forced her knees to her shoulders, pinning them there while he slammed into her with all of his strength. Sheila forgot about her inhibitions. She became a wailing fountain of lust, a banshee lost in the tortuous pleasures of fucking. Walter, too, succumbed to their blissful union. In his receptive wife he found all of the things he loved, things he still desired after all the years they spent together. Sheila was the woman he had desired to spend the rest of his life with, and he had pursued her ruthlessly during their college days. His low-key persistence had paid off. She had declared her love for him and had given him her virginity, the ultimate a woman had to give. Walter and Sheila; those names intertwined with each other so well and for such a long time that their acquaintances couldn’t imagine saying one name without the other. He pushed harder into his wife, struggling to create by pressure a physical amalgam to match the spiritual one they shared. His ardour burned within him, flaring so hot that icy tendrils ran down his spine. A frigid lump like a chilled steel ball formed at the base of his skull, an irritation that wouldn't cease. Walter wiped at his neck, not finding sweat-slickened skin but the hyemal frigidity of a gun barrel nuzzling the nape of his neck.

"You should learn to listen to your bitch, Slim. She has good instincts."

Sheila peered around her husband's waist and sought out the source of the deep baritone voice. A black man held a chromed pistol to her husband's head. A livid scar ran across his left cheek from where the bald man's hairline would have been to his jaw, leaving a jagged purple rip through his light brown skin. What struck her the most was his clothing. His clothes reminded her of Georgia’s.

"Don't let me interrupt, folks," the short black man said. "Please carry on. I insist."

§§§

Having a gun pointed to the back of your head would upset anyone. Having that done while cock-deep into your wife even more so. Walter fell forward in an attempt to shield his wife from the interloper. The gun pertinaciously tracked him.

"Feel free to pull out of her, man. Stay in there too long and you might wrinkle."

Walter pulled out, carefully rolling down her dress before turning around to face his assailant. His hand moved to retrieve his pants but a chrome barrel planted between his eyes checked the maneuver.

"Come on Slim, don't be so selfish," the leering man said. "Why cover up your bitch? You had her going, bro. I wanna see her shit. See to it."

"What?" Walter said. He couldn't have just been asked to strip Sheila!

"Bitch, show me your cunt or I drill this guy a third eye."

Sheila lifted her dress, displaying for the man's pleasure her recently used pussy. Its slick, puffy flesh still glistened from her recent fucking. "Oh yes, that's what I want to see," the black man said. His face was all white teeth. "Work that thing for me," he said. "For Slim's sake, make me believe that you're enjoying yourself."

"Now wait just a minute," Walter said, concern for his wife overriding his sense of self preservation. "Don't you think –" He stopped talking when the black man twitched his trench coat aside, displaying the short barreled shotgun that hung inside the jacket. Accompanying it were several bullet clips and bulging pockets that probably contained more ammunition and hardware. He also saw the knife handle at his waist and other devices attached to his belt that he couldn't fathom. The utility pockets on his fatigues bulged. Walter decided that he'd shut up.

"I was hoping you'd be stupid and I'd have to kill you," the black man said. "Unlucky for me that you finally found your common sense." The man pistol whipped Walter. He thudded to the ground. "So, bitch. Why don't we start with some good old fashioned masturbation? Show me the way rich white women play with themselves."

"I don't do that kind of thing," Sheila said in a small voice.

"Pretend that you do." He tapped his pistol against his thigh.

Sheila closed her eyes tightly, leaning back into her soft leather couch as if It could provide some sort of comfort to her. Her hands crept to her pussy, gliding around the outsides of her flared lips. She teased her opening but did not dare to enter. Her eyes flicked open when she heard a shout from the ground. The black man had his heavy leather boot jammed onto Walter's neck. Angry brown eyes glared at her.

"Time for you to go pearl diving, Sweetness. Get those fingers wet, or I soak your carpets in crimson."

With a small sob Sheila penetrated herself, using two fingers to rub over her clit while her other hand dug deep into herself. Her pussy smacked wetly as she worked herself, her hips rotating in small tight circles. Despite her chagrin, she felt her nipples harden and her always-pale skin flush. Not even Walter's attentions effected her so quickly. She stared into the face of her attacker and saw neither lust nor excitement, as if she watched strange women masturbate every day.

Who knows? Maybe he did.

The black man made her play with herself for almost ten minutes before he motioned for her to stop. He opened a cargo pocket on his fatigues and fished out two pairs of police-issue cuffs. One of these he tossed onto her belly. Sheila trembled at the kiss of the cold steel against her heated flesh. "Put your hands behind your back and put those on," he commanded. She did so without offering any type of resistance. He seemed disappointed with her easy compliance to his order. "Your turn, Slim. Put your hands behind your back." Walter obeyed, grimacing when the cuffs snapped around his wrists. He was more surprised when he felt steel around his ankles as well. Leg manacles?

"That's a good boy," the black man said. "You get to live for a little while longer. Sheila, why don't you spread those legs of yours really wide for me? I want to see you stretched right open."

"How do you know my name?"

"I've been here for a couple of hours. I had time to go through some of your things."

Sheila trembled, both in fear and in rage. This stranger had violated their home. It was strange how the thought of this man touching her belongings upset her as much as what he now did to their persons. "Walter, turn your head a little bit to the left so you can see your bitch. Yeah, that's the shit." The black man took a five inch cylinder from his waist and shook it towards the ground. Right away, a two foot metal rod telescoped out of the small handheld cylinder. It extended like a transistor radio's antenna but thunked heavily against the carpeted floor without collapsing when he tapped the rod against it. He gave the rod a few experimental swings like a ball player testing out a new bat before a game.

"You like it, do you? It’s my ASP 26 inch expandable baton. I was so impressed with the last one that got used against me by five-oh in Dallas I had get myself one. They're very effective." The man seemed happiest when talking about his toys.

"You got a good view there Slim?" the black man asked Walter, "because I'd really hate to think that you'd miss any of the show." As he spoke, the black man rubbed the tip of his baton against Sheila's outer lips, forcing a whimper from her. He used the rod to glide over her full breasts and firm stomach, playing around her deep, tiny gash of navel. Then he worked the baton upwards, over her sternum and the side of her neck, running along her jawline and her full, pouty lips. He took his time, exploring every part of her with that baton as if he had all night to do so. Sheila wished that her nipples didn't become so hard as he tantalized her with the metal probe.

"You like what you're feeling, Sheila?" the man asked her. "If you don't, we'll try something else." He ran the tip of the metal rod over her nipples, poking them until each one hardened under her dress. Only then did he move the rod down to her pussy, inserting a couple of inches of it as he plied it inside of her nectar fountain.

"Don't do that!" Walter screamed at his captor. He yelped, this time in pain as the baton thudded hard against his ribs.

"Fuck Slim, are all white guys as stupid as you? Don't you like breathing?" He gave Walter another shot to ribs with the baton, leaving him convulsing on the ground. The black man collapsed the weapon and stuffed it back into its belt holster. He released the Ithaca Stakeout shotgun from its hitch in his coat and loaded it up. Both Sheila and Walter watched him in wary silence.

"You constipated Slim?" the man asked. "Because if you are I have the perfect remedy for what ails you." The men jammed his boot into the small of Walter's back. The tip of the shotgun played between his asscheeks, spreading them apart and nuzzling his asshole. The contact made Walter clench his sphincter as tightly as he could.

"Are you going to grow a brain in the next few seconds, or do I have to aerate your colon for you? Your call, my friend."

"Please don't," Sheila said. "He'll be good, I swear. Isn't that so, Walter?"

The man pressed down hard on the shotgun, forcing about an inch of it into Walter's asshole. Walter groaned from the pain.

"Yeah, I'll be good," Walter gasped, head reeling from the burning sensation in his ass.

"See that you are," the man replied. The man stepped over Walter's body and approached Sheila, reaching out a thick fingered hand to grasp her left breast. He looked like a power lifter, but he had a gentle touch. His hard fingertips barely grazed the material of her shimmery dress. Without warning, he hooked his fingers underneath the cloth of the uncovered tummy area of the dress and yanked upwards. Her heavy tits fell out. Sheila strained against her handcuffs when she sought to cover her exposed breasts and received a hard slap in the face for her trouble. He grasped her by the throat and shoved her back into the soft leather couch.

"I guess someone else needs a lesson in playing nice," he whispered. "Don't get so excited, Sheila. I have a bad case of nerves and I might accidentally pull the trigger if you startle me. That's how accidents happen," he admonished. "If you really must move I recommend you do it with slow, careful movements. I excite easily."

Sheila only nodded. The black man fondled her breasts one-handed, hefting the weights like a shopper did melons. He tweaked her nipples until they grew as long and as pink as an infant's finger. He seemed fascinated by her breasts. Rough, calloused fingertips raked over her sensitive pale skin, tracing the bluish veins that ran throughout the ivory satin. He took great pleasure in mauling the large expanses of her tit flesh, particularly those elongated nipples. No matter where his hands wandered, he always returned to them. They grew red from his attentions.

"Quite nice, Sheila. I'm going to enjoy using them a little later on," he said, smiling. "I won't be able to think about leaving this place until I fuck those breasts of yours at least once." The man unzipped his pants and slipped a hand inside, rubbing himself through the fly of his black fatigues. He stopped playing with himself, instead retrieving a cell phone from inside his trench coat. He didn’t ignore Sheila, however. He leaned the shotgun against the side of the couch and continued to torment her nipples.

"You're here? About time. I'll let you in." The man moved quickly to the front door. He made a lot of noise as he fumbled with the locks.

"Are you okay?" Walter whispered.

"Of course I'm not okay," she sobbed in return. "But we'll get through this. I know we will."

"Just do what he says. Don't fight him. I don't want to see you hurt."

"Me? It's not me who's going out of the way to provoke him. Stop questioning him so much. He'll get upset and do something rash."

The black man's return silenced them. He was not alone. Georgia came in with him, head bent down and eyes averted. The black man told her to go upstairs and fetch the three suitcases from the master bedroom. In the meantime, the short man pulled Walter's up by his hair, forcing him to scramble to his feet or to risk a piece of his scalp being ripped off in a bloody clump. He tossed Walter into a chair, handling him as if he weighed nothing. Walter might have towered over him by almost a foot, but he sensed that the little man could tear him apart without breaking a sweat.

"See here, fellow. You obviously have taken everything from us that you wanted. My wallet's in my pants and my wife's purse is at the doorway. Why not take the money and go? We won't fight you. We just want this to end."

"It'll end when I say, Slim." He punctuated that sentiment with a blow from the butt of his shotgun. Walter's head spun from the impact.

When Walter managed to regain his senses the black man again stood in front of Sheila. He held Sheila's head clamped tightly between his thick fingers, forcing her to lower his fly with her teeth. Georgia came downstairs and lumbered into the living room. "I got the stuff, Lenny. What do we do now?"

Lenny sighed, shaking his head slightly. "How many times have I told you not to use my name when we're working? Why don't you ever learn?"

"Perhaps it's because Georgia's a retard," Walter muttered under his breath. At least he had thought it was under his breath. A boot to the gut winded him. Georgia swung her foot back, ready to take another shot at Walter.

"He called you Georgia," Lenny said, annoyance edging his words. Georgia lowered her boot. Slow or not, Georgia possessed a PhD in physical retribution, skills Walter would be wary of from now on. "Don't tell you me spoke to them earlier! You were only supposed to tail them."

"Not my fault," Georgia said, defensiveness larding her words. "They got out of the car early and were walking home. You wouldn't have heard them. I had to stop them."

"I've been waiting for them for over an hour, Georgia. You were to call me when they were almost at the house, nothing more. Please don't start thinking. I'll think for both of us. You just do what I tell you to."

Georgia made the staccato shuddering noises that often presaged crying in children. Lenny left Sheila and went to the statuesque blonde, slipping a hand underneath her trench coat and rubbing her back gently. "I didn't mean it like that, babe. You did good. But next time please don't talk to the targets. It makes a difficult mess for me to clean up."

"Yes, Lenny." The look Georgia gave him held unconditional love, one bordering on worship. She craned her head downwards so he could kiss her. He did so, planting a small peck on each of her closed eyelids.

"That's my girl. Just go over there and watch that guy while I take care of his wife."

"Do we have time for this?" Georgia asked. "We should just leave. Leave with the money."

"We'll leave soon, but first I want a taste of the honey." Lenny stretched Sheila out on the couch, then changed his mind and pulled her onto the floor. As she struggled to rise, he kicked the legs out from under her. She fell heavily to her knees, kept there by the fist he snaked through her curly hair. Once in proper position he jammed his cock between her lips. His black fireplug stretched Sheila's mouth around its girth, her chin practically touching her breastbone.

"Yeah, slut. Take my cock as deep as it will go," her attacker huffed. He tightened his grip on her, his fingers insinuating themselves deeper into her tousled mass of curly brown hair. She'd looked so elegant just a few short hours ago with her perfectly coiffed hairdo. Now it lay in shambles like their violated lives.

He pistoned his monster cock forwards, spearing Sheila's face with a fist of turgid black meat. His leaden balls smacked against her chin. Her piteous moans incensed Walter, who made one more lunge against his bonds.

"Look at me, cunt," Lenny said. "Open those fucking eyes of yours or I'll gouge them out of your goddamned skull." Sheila’s sorrowful eyes crept open. Heavy tears welled up inside them, then trickled over her flushed cheeks. "I saw the pictures of your kids on the mantle. What would your boys think if they saw you like this?" he said as he pulled out of her throat. Only the tip of his shiny cock remained in Sheila's mouth. He thrust his hips forward violently, his rod ramming into her. Her head lurched back, then forwards again by the sharp tug he gave her hair. "Yeah, your sons would be disgusted to see what a cock sucking slut their mother was." He rapidly bucked his hips against the shamed woman's face, his plunging cock making sticky, wet sounds as it repeatedly violated her throat. Thick cables of drool streamed down her chin. She salivated like a hound around its bone.

"How old are your kids, man?" the rapist asked Walter. He'd turned around to face him, his hips still for the moment. Sheila coughed up around the black man's unmoving cock. "They live here? Hey Slim! Take your eyes off of your bitch fo' a sec and answer me."

Walter had been staring, entranced at seeing his wife so brutally used for a man's pleasure. In all of their years of marriage he'd never had rough sex with her like that. It bothered him that some young punk had obtained that which she denied him for over a quarter century. He had dreamed, but Lenny had actualized. A smack to the ear by a balled fist tore him away from his musings.

"Answer him," Georgia whispered, her kindly voice an obscene contradiction to the hardness of her hands and heart. Walter turned his head, looking into the face of the almost forgotten woman. Her eyes told him that she'd kill him for sure if he remained silent any longer.

"Both in their twenties, but they don't live her anymore."

"Just as well. That'll be two less people to kill tonight," he replied, returning his attentions to Walter's wife. Sheila wailed around the cock that lunged into her mouth, her entire body squirming in her bonds as she sought to free herself. Lenny's malicious laughter raked across Walter's eardrums. "Yeah, momma. Suck that cock like your life depends on it, because it does, slag. It does." He resumed pounding his cock deep into Sheila’s throat, raping her face loudly as silent tears ran down her face.

Lenny pulled Sheila backwards across the arm of the couch so that her head hung upside down. He took one leg and threw it over the back of the couch, then shoved the other one so it fell upon the ground. He motioned Georgia over to him. "Suck on that while I fuck her face, won't you, babe?" he said while smacking his palm against Sheila's twat. "I know you like eating pussy. Go ahead."

"I don't want to," Georgia said. Walter barely heard her.

"What's with you tonight? You've been acting funny since you got here. Don't make me angry, Georgia. Eat her cunt while I fuck her mouth. Do it now." Lenny's voice had a tone of finality to it. Not once did he raise his voice to Georgia, but she trembled as if he'd been shouting at her. She crawled between Sheila's legs, slipped her palms underneath her ass, then dove in. Georgia's aggressive style of cunnilingus had Sheila's hips bucking in a desperate attempt to shake off her assailant. The short thrusts upwards only served to drive Georgia's tongue deeper within her. Sheila delirious moans resulted in Georgia continuing her play, using teeth, tongue and lips to stimulate the older woman's pussy as best she could.

Lenny looked on proudly, always enjoying a girl on girl show. A sharp thrust of his hips lodged his cock back into Sheila's mouth, silencing her cries. Her throat swelled up as he went right down her esophagus. He mated himself tightly to her face, grinding his groin hard against her lips. His curly pubic hairs scoured her bottom lip and chin like steel wool. When he pulled out of her throat a fresh flood of spit and bile washed over the woman's face, covering her in a shimmering liquid veil. His next thrust into her produced a loud gulping noise from deep within her throat. The constant cacophony of gulps accompanied his vicious oral rape. The thick oral discharge pooled below her head, persistent tendrils of saliva clinging to her cheeks and hair.

Sheila's whole body shook with the force of Lenny's powerful thrusts and the pleasure received from Georgia’s skilled tongue. Lenny leaned forward and grabbed onto one of Sheila's breasts, gripping it tightly and twisting it. The abused tit flesh turned pomegranate beneath his merciless grip. He used the other hand to grasp tightly onto Georgia's ponytail, using it as a convenient handle both to leverage his brutal lunges into Sheila, and to force his woman deeper into Sheila's box.

Walter's mind felt numb. His beloved wife was being raped, her pussy eaten out by some Amazonian dyke while a black man took her face. He felt small, ashamed both because he was powerless to stop his wife's assault and by his inappropriate reactions to it. He'd dreamed for so many years of feeling his wife's loving mouth around his manhood. Now he'd never be the first one to sample her. That honour had been stolen from him. He loathed Lenny and prayed for his death, but he couldn't deny the fact that he knew how to get the most use out of a woman's mouth. That black cock worked Sheila’s maw in ways he'd never imagined possible.

"Yeah, man. I bet you have many happy memories of this bitch, don't you Slim?" Walter shook his head, realizing that Lenny had been talking to him. "I mean, this bitch could teach a crack whore how to choke down licorice stick. I’ve never had ferocious head like this before!"

Walter wanted to kill this sick fucker in the slowest, most painful method possible. But he felt a perverse pride in the man's words as well. He knew how sexually provocative Sheila was. He'd had twenty-six years in which to discover it. How many women’s mouths had this guy taken over the years? Knowing that Sheila was the best of the lot made him proud of her. A stupid reaction to a bad situation, but Walter couldn’t deny that felt pride at the moment.

"Get a load of the guy! You enjoy seeing your wife raped by strangers, don't you?" Lenny pulled out of Sheila's ravaged mouth, twisting her head to the side so she could look upon her husband. Her mascara-blurred eyes opened from beneath the thick film of spittle and bile that glazed her face. The sticky streams ran into her hair. Gone was the proper elegance of the woman who had attended the musical that evening. A fuck slut had replaced her, one covered in her own foulness.

Sheila gazed upon the throbbing erect member of her husband, and looked into his eyes with hurt. How could he become excited by watching her ravishment? She simply couldn't understand it. Walter lowered his head in shame, embarrassed by the reaction of his treacherous body.

"Georgia, go with the kitchen and look in the drawers. They probably have kitchen twine for tying up poultry. Bring me some?" Georgia lumbered off to do her man's bidding. She soon returned with a whole spool of it. "Go and play with Slim for a little bit. Wrap that cock of his up tight. After that, use your imagination."

"But I don't like him," Georgia murmured.

"So make sure he hates what you do to him."

Georgia did as she was told, tying several tiny, intricate knots around his shaft. The dullness Walter commented on earlier obviously didn't extend to her fine motor control. While she worked she manipulated his balls, applying feather light touches that stimulated the fine hairs on his ball sac. Her breath caressed his sensitive skin on his cock, further stimulating him. His cock grew hard and large, As he grew, the already tight bindings cinched his cock mercilessly, biting deep into his turgid flesh. Georgia scraped her short nails over the purple ridges of cock flesh, watching in sadistic glee as silent, shuddering sobs escaped Walters' lips.

Sheila realized that Georgia obeyed Lenny without question. She had little will of her own, only a childlike desire for approval. Apparently, Lenny gave her that. Georgia would do anything he told her.

Lenny flipped Sheila over onto her stomach and moved between her legs. He placed his palms on her asscheeks and pushed downwards and out. Her ass spread so far apart that the stretched inner cheeks made a perfect plane, the tableau anchored by the crinkled rosebud squarely in its center. He dribbled saliva onto her puckered little anus, the warm moisture causing the rosebud to pulse. Lenny forced his tongue into the latent bloom, his rough incursion into her unexplored inner territories ripping a gasp from her. That pink muscle lashed at her insides, drilling deep into her in its search for ore. Thick fingers sank into her corpulent asscheeks, the uncomfortable stretching making her ass crack burn. The insinuated tongue delved even deeper, touching a place within her even her husband had never reached. Sheila's mortification grew when she realized she'd been wriggling her ass to increase the anal stimulation. All too soon Lenny released her, permitting her assailed asshole a brief respite. The cinnabar-streaked alabaster cheeks closed upon her blooming flowerbud.

"What now?" Sheila gasped.

"You really don't know? Now I'm gonna fuck you, cunt." Walter groaned, and not from any of the physical pains he experienced.

§§§

 

[penguindance]

 

[Tatewaki]

Walt;

Part I has been posted. I expect it to be up in 2-3 days. Part II is practically complete and is in final edit. I will email you a copy for your approval prior to posting to Lit, as previously agreed.

I do hope you have enjoyed part I! Be sure to vote on it. It is your story, after all ...

Take care,

-T

 

[MsLinnet]

For anyone interested in developing this topic:

A young couple moves next door to an older couple, realizes that the older man lusts after the younger woman and uses that lust to the younger couple's advantage.

Same idea except the older woman lusts after the younger man.

Older couple borrows money from younger couple and has to "pay it back".

good idea like the movie "the burbs" more on the sexual side has a nice twist to it

 

[Tatewaki]

Walt;

Part I has been posted.

Unhappy Anniversary

Part II will be up within a week.

I hope you like it!

-T