Posted by Willailla on March 11, 2000 at 13:41:05:
In Reply to: A new story by a new writer posted by Sam (of Sam's Place) on March 11, 2000 at 13:32:01:
The Necrophiles Have Your Wife
By
Willailla
Allison Moore had just stepped out of the shower when the phone began ringing. She groaned, grabbed a towel off the rack and trotted into the bedroom to pick up the receiver.
"Hello," she said, clutching the towel around her and sitting down on the unmade bed, crossing her shapely legs.
There was no response for a moment, and she was about ready to chalk it up to a crank call, when a raspy male voice said, "I know what happened to your friend, Karen."
Allison froze. The towel dropped from her hand, leaving her naked.
Karen was one of her best friends. She had disappeared without a trace six weeks earlier. No one had heard from her since. The police were baffled.
"Who is this?" she asked, with sudden intensity.
"Who I am," the raspy voice replied, "is not important. What is important is that I know what happened to your sexy, little friend."
The offhanded crudeness of his remark shocked her and filled her with disgust. "How could you possibly know anything about Karen?" she asked, restraining an impulse to shout at him.
She heard him chuckle. Let's just say I'm in a position to know. Are you interested?"
"What do you mean?"
"In finding out about your friend?"
"Of course I am," she answered, sensing something in the tone of his voice that told her he wasn't playing games.
"Good, but first there's several things you have to agree to or you get nothing."
"What?"
"First, you must tell no one--and I mean no one, especially that lawyer husband of yours--about this call. Is that clear?"
She resented his domineering tone. He made her feel like a child being dictated to by its parent.
"OK," she said, "that is if you really have something," she added reprovingly. Touche!
"Granted," he said. "Second, I want you to meet me at Chez 69. If you bring anyone with you or I see any pigs or anything at all suspicious, you'll never hear from me again."
"Why can't you just tell me what you know over the phone?"
"Because it's going to cost you, lady, and I like my cash up front and personal, know what I mean?"
"How much cash?" Allison asked warily.
"A couple of thousand ought to do it. I'm not greedy."
"That's a lot of money."
"Not for a classy, hot-shot lawyer's wife. You keep that much in the cookie jar."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"You don't. But if you don't like what I have to say, you don't have to fork over the money."
She thought about it for a moment; she knew she would have to agree to his terms, no matter what. She had no choice, if she wanted to find out what happened to Karen.
"All right," she agreed reluctantly.
"But there's just one more thing," he continued. She heard him enhale sharply as if he were drawing on a cigarette. "I want you to wear an overcoat with nothing on underneath and high heels."
It was Allison's turn to enhale deeply. "I can't agree to that. That's crazy."
"Then you'll never see Karen again."
"What do you mean, you bastard?" she cried, her voice rising. "Is Karen all right? What have you done to her?"
"I haven't done anything to her," the raspy voice replied. "but there are others who might."
"Others?" Allison was stunned by this announcement. Her worse fears had been realized. Karen had been abducted.
"Don't puzzle your pretty head over it. Just do as I tell you and everything will be all right. Otherwise..."
Allison didn't stop to wonder how he knew she had a pretty head--or how he knew her husband was a lawyer--or anything else. All she could think about was Karen. She couldn't desert her.
Then she heard him speak again in that irritatingly raspy voice.
"Think about it. I'll call back at noon tomorrow, and you can give me your answer." With that he hung up, and stunned, she sat listening to the dial tone for a long time without realizing he'd done so.
Chapter 2
What Friends Are For
That evening when he came home, Allison's husband, Barry, found her naked, on the sofa, with a half empty bottle of scotch resting between her thighs. He carried her to bed; found the receiver on the floor and put it back on the cradle.
He stripped off his clothes. Nature had blessed him with a rock hard body with well defined muscles and a large, uncircumcised cock. They had been married three years, and he had never seen her drunk before. The sight turned him on. More than that, seeing her unconscious and helpless gave him a sudden, tantalizing inspiration.
He picked up the receiver and dialed a number he knew by heart. Then slipped on a pair of trunks.
Twenty minutes later a car pulled up in the driveway.
Rick Matthews had been Barry's buddy since their college days and throughout law school. They'd shared a lot of good times together, including their women.
Rick sipped the whiskey neat Barry gave him. He was bigger than Barry, but soft. In a few more years he would be fat.
"Are you serious?" Rick asked, when Barry had explained what he had in mind.
"Damn straight. She's out of it. She'll never know what happened."
"I don't know, man. If Barbara ever found out, my ass would be grass."
"Who's going to tell her, old buddy? Not me."
"It would be rape." Rick said absently, staring down at his drink.
Barry grinned as Rick glanced up. "Yeah, but you and I both know you'd like to do her. I've seen the way you've looked at her, old buddy. You can't fool me."
Rick raised the corner of his mouth in a half smile of concession.
"All right, amigo!" Barry whooped as they high-fived each other.
Rick's prick was already hard by the time he had his clothes off. He couldn't believe how pretty, how sexy Allison looked, lying there naked. Her thick, gorgeous, reddish brown hair was fanned out on the pillow. Her lips were slightly parted, revealing smooth white teeth. The tits were large and round with thimble shaped nipples. Her whole body was deeply tanned to perfection, no doubt she spent a lot of time in the tanning bed at her health club.
He feasted his eyes on her firm flesh, the narrow waist, the womanly hips, the triangle of cunt hair and the long, shapely legs. His heart was racing. His cock tingling with anticipation. He touched the swollen head. It was so sensitive that he almost came.
Nervous, that she might come to, he climbed cautiously onto the bed and slowly spread her legs. He was so excited, his hands were shaking. Gingerly, he touched a breast, then softly palmed it, kneading the supple flesh between his fingers. God, he was actually going to fuck his best friend's wife. And she would never know it. Everytime they met from now on, he would remember knowing the most intimate look and feel and taste of her, and she would be totally unaware of it. He rolled a pink nipple between his thumb and forefinger and was surprised to feel it begin to swell.
Was she conscious enough to get turned on? he wondered.
He lowered his face to her, detecting that primeval smell of womanness, covered over by a faint, bath-scented smell of talc. He could smell the whiskey on her breath. Her lower lip was swollen. Her upper lip was a perfect bow shape with its delicate twin peaks. There was still the faint trace of pink lipstick on them. He slid the tip of his tongue between their furrow gliding over the milky white teeth beneath. Her body stirred slightly, almost quivering. She moaned faintly.
Her legs moved farther apart, and she arched her back as if inviting him to take her. For a moment, he wondered if she really was unconscious. Maybe she and Barry had planned out a kinky scenario for their own amusement. But, then, if true, so what? He was still going to get to fuck her, and that was all that really mattered.
He leaned forward and spread the lips of her cunt and began tonguing her, enhaling the pungent, musky odor, lapping like a dog up to the clit and nipping it gently between his teeth. Her body gave off a series of tiny, electric shudders. And she mumbled something incoherently. Her fingers became lost in his hair. Her ass began rotating up off the mattress.
He moved up on her and positioned his cock at the hole of her cunt. Her eyes were still closed, but her face was grimaced. Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly, her belly sucking in and out.
Conscious or not, this bitch wants it, Rick thought. And I intend giving it to her. As she brought her hips up, he shoved his cock in. She was wet. And it was a good thing, for she was really tight. It was as if the whole depth of her cunt was a huge fist gripping him. Had he wanted to, he couldn't have pulled out of her. Then, her cunt muscles relaxed and he withdrew, leaving only the head in. Her hips continued to rotate hungrily as she moved upward meeting his thrust with her own. It was too good to endure. He felt a tremendous surge of excitement coarse through his body, and cum began spurting from his cock greasing the insides of her tube. He worked furiously up and down on her. Sweat formed and dripped from his body. Her moans and cries filled the bedroom. Her fingers gripped his ass, the long nails sunk into the tender flesh. And somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered what Barry must be thinking, feeling, for he had to be able to hear them. What would any man think knowing another man is fucking his wife--and pleasing her?
Suddenly, he heard hands clapping behind him, and glancing over his shoulder, he saw Barry standing in the doorway naked, his huge cock fully extended up at a forty-five degree angle.
"That was really great, old buddy. I got it all on tape." he said, grinning.
"Tape?" Rick grunted, still slightly confused from the rush of hormones he had just experienced.
"That's right." He pointed to a digital clock sitting on a chest of drawers. "Hidden camera. The monitor's downstairs in the basement. I've been thinking about something like this for several months. I was planning on drugging her, but her getting drunk has made everything much easier."
"Yeah, really great." Rick answered sarcastically. "What if she sees the tape sometime? I'll be doing twenty-to-life for rape."
"Relax, amigo; you worry too much. I watched the whole thing on the monitor. There's no way anyone viewing that tape would believe she wasn't loving it. Man, she was all over you."
"Yeah, well, maybe so, but I just as soon not put it to the test, if it's all the same to you."
Barry rubbed at the patch of brown hair on his chest. "Maybe someday we can do this again...only with Barbara."
"Uh, uh. No way I'd take that kind of chance."
"Well, just a suggestion. Think about it."
As Rick drove home that evening, he did think about it, and, as he kissed his beautiful, blonde wife goodnight, he pictured her naked under Barry as he rammed that huge cock of his in her for the first time.
Chapter 3
Chez 69
When Allison woke up the phone was ringing insistently. She reached over to the night stand and dragged it onto the bed with her and picked up the receiver.
"Yes?"
"Made up your mind, Allison?" It was the raspy voice.
At first, she couldn't focus on the meaning of the question. Then, suddenly, it all came rushing back into her. The whiskey. She had drunk too much. She wasn't used to it. She felt sick, and her body ached all over. She struggled to pull her thoughts together. Her hand moved down her belly. She was still naked. Her hand paused at her pubic mound. It was swollen and tingly. The slit was open and moist. The hairs had a crusty feeling to them.
"Well?" the raspy voice prodded, interrupting her thoughts.
* * *
It was rainy. So the overcoat became a raincoat. She rolled her hair up into a bun and, after putting on her make up, selected a pair of high heeled, white pumps. She rolled up a wad of hundred dollar bills and placed a rubber band around it. This she shoved into her coat pocket.
She called a cab, and told the driver where to take her, trying to ignore the salacious look he gave her when she'd told him the address.
Chez 69 was located in a sleazy red light district. Here and there a miniskirted whore stood in the lee of a doorway, out of the rain, waiting for a trick to drive by or a cop looking for a kickback. Young black youths, gang bangers, were hanging out on a nearby corner, ignoring the rain, in their oversized clothes, gold chains and expensive sneakers. The occasional hiss of tires sounded on the wet pavement.
"Hey, mama," one of the youths called out to her. "Why doncha come upstairs with me and my bros. You a fine lookin' ho. We show you good time."
She hurried to the entrance of Chez 69, hearing their taunts and laughter behind her.
A man, dressed in black, stood at the doorway. She asked for Sid, the name raspy voice had given her. Dull-eyed, chewing on a toothpick, he jerked his head to the side, indicating that she go in.
Chez 69 was, she saw, a strip club. A runway divided the small room in two. There was a bar on her left and a scattering of tables. Stools, where patrons could sit, lined both sides of the runway. To her right was a series of booths. It was early, so there were only a few customers sitting about drinking. She peered around in the semi-darkness of a blue, neon glow. Men, naturally, were sizing her up. But no one in particular showed any sign that he was the special one expecting her.
Being in a sleazy bar alone was enough to make her nervous, but knowing that she was also naked under her thin, vinyl raincoat made her feel panic-stricken. It was only an effort of will power that kept her from turning and running out the door. Plus the knowledge that the gang bangers were still out there.
Taking a deep breath, she weaved a path around the tables to the bartender.
"What can I do for you, lady?" he asked.
She told him.
Chapter 4
An Easy Lay
Sid saw her when she came into the club. He waited for Roy, the doorman to give him the OK. Then he watched her as she stood, indecisive, looking around, no doubt, for him.
She was a real looker. The light wasn't good, but he could see she had copper-colored hair rolled up into a bun. Unloosened, he'd bet it hung to her jutting ass. Her face was classic: the rounded forehead, the slightly concaved nose, the delicate chin. If she'd followed his instructions, she would be naked underneath the red raincoat. He could see the round thrust of her tits against the fabric. He'd had many years handling women in his business. He guessed she was a 38D. He couldn't be sure of the waist because of the straight line of the coat, but judging by the way her hips filled it, he guessed them to be 34 inches. He had no doubt the waist would prove to be nice and narrow.
He lit a smoke, holding it Turkish fashion in his right hand with thumb and forefinger, the butt pointed to his left. He watched her walk over to the bartender, and when the bartender glanced at him, he gave a faint nod.
She came to the corner booth, in back, where he was seated. She kept her head bowed to avoid the frank stares of the men sitting at the tables.
"Are you Sid?" she asked, looking down at him.
He didn't answer right away. He gave her the once over, slowly, with his eyes, letting her know what he was thinking, what he'd like to do to her.
He couldn't exactly tell in the dim light if she blushed, but he would bank on it, the way her eyes suddenly darted away from his.
"Yeah, I'm Sid, baby." She recognized the raspy voice. "Sit down." He patted the area of the seat next to him. "Slide over here next to me. We don't want people to hear what we're talking about, do we?"
When she was next to him, a naked woman wearing nothing but a yellow-glow G-string came over to their booth.
"Whadayah want to drink?" he asked her, blowing smoke from his nostrils.
"Nothing," Allison said.
"Give us two Easy Lays," Sid said, ignoring her request, "and make hers a real easy lay." He chuckled.
The naked woman smiled at Sid, then gave Allison a smug, put down look.
"She thinks you're competition, " Sid explained, after the waitress left.
He crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray. "Did you do what I told you to?" he asked, after a pause. This time he was certain she blushed. Up close, he could see her cheeks darken slightly.
"Yes."
"OK, let's see. Take your coat off."
He watched her freeze. A thrill raced through him, stirring his cock to life.
"No."
"No?" he mocked her.
"Why?" The tone of her voice was that of a child not wanting to do something its parent has ordered but knowing it will have to anyway. Petulant.
"Because I have to make sure you're not wired." That was the truth, in part, but he also wanted to see her naked.
"I can't," she pleaded. "Not with other men watching."
But you would if we were alone wouldn't you, you little slut? he was thinking.
"Relax, they've seen plenty of naked women before. You're nothing special. They'll just think you're one of the strippers or somebody auditioning."
At that moment, the yellow-glow returned with their drinks.
"Here, drink some of this." he said, pushing a glass over to her. "It'll make things easier."
She took a couple of sips, then, waiting until the waitress was gone, slowly began unbuttoning her coat.
"OK," she said, when she had it unbuttoned.
"No. No. Take it all the way off. I have to make sure you aren't hiding anything."
She hesitated, then reached up with her hands and pulled the coat off her shoulders, letting it slide down her naked back, then leaned forward, her nipples touching the cool, plastic surface of the table, as she shrugged her arms out of the sleeves.
She had suddenly become the center of attention. The few men sitting at the tables focused their gaze upon her. The waitress was grinning snidely.
She took a large gulp of her drink. Anything to kill the humiliation she was feeling. It seemed to help. Feeling a momentary need for defiance, she stared at Sid. In the blue, neon glow, the skin of his face seem cadaverous. He was wearing a dark gray suit with a black tie. She estimated that he was in his late fifties. There were heavy bags under his dark eyes. He was stocky, with broad, powerful-looking shoulders. His hair, which he probably dyed, was coal black, combed straight back into a short pony tail. The hands were thick and the stubby fingers were decorated with flashy diamond rings.
Hands and fingers to make a woman...what? she wondered fleetingly. Oddly, the word `beg' came to mind, but for exactly what she wasn't sure.
The palms of his hands moved over her tits. They were hard as if he had walked on them for years. The fingers expertly tweaked and kneaded her nipples, making them swell.
"Nice." he said. "You like that don't you?"
She looked away.
Across the room, she could see yellow-glow feed the jukebox and began swinging her naked body from side to side, arms over her head, as the thumping beat of Venus filled the room:
" ...summit of beauty and love,
"and Venus was her name.
"She's got it.
"Yes, baby, she's got it."
The leathery palm moved slowly down to her stomach and began making warm circular motions, fingers gripping the firm flesh gently, then releasing it. He leaned to her and kissed her on the neck, just below her earlobe. She could feel the moist heat of his tongue and breath. She turned her mouth to him, and he filled it with his tongue. She gasped softly, quivering.
He lowered his hand farther.
It warmly cupped her newly shaved cunt. "You follow orders well." he said. His thick fingers spread the tight labia. He felt her whole body shiver then go lax. He pushed his fuckfinger up inside her to the knuckle. He held his ear to her throat, listening to the faint murmuring sounds she made, like a small, wounded animal.
His hand moved around behind her neck and pushed her head down while with his other hand he unzipped his pants.
The cock was thick and stubby, like the man. The foreskin slid back, revealing a glistening head. There was a faint scent of ammonia in her nostrils. She felt his hand nudge the cheek of her ass. She raised her hips, off the leatherette seat and felt his finger slowly sink into her asshole. With his other hand he stroked her clit. She had never felt so hot in her life. Like the drink's name, she was proving to be an easy lay. She was humiliated, ashamed, but she was powerless to resist. With a sense of breathless awe, she realized she would, probably, do anything he asked. Anything.
And then he was cumming. She swallowed the hot spurts as fast as they came, gurgling the viscous fluid around in her throat, gulping, sucking it down, choking, feeling it dribble, too quick, from the edges of her lips, onto his slacks.
His fingers popped out of her, leaving her wet in a hot, unsatisfied void. He pulled her bun loose and wiped his dick off with the long reddish strands.
How? she wondered, could she have allowed herself to go off in this totally uninhibited manner? She had never done anything like this in her entire life. How?
Just as the word `drugged' came to mind, she passed out.
Chapter 5
The Exchange
Sid carried her out the rear exit, and waited while yellow-glow popped the trunk. He lay her down naked inside, then carefully removed all her jewelry. He'd already taken the two thousand out of her coat pocket.
Not bad for a day's work, and there's more to come, he thought, happily.
He closed the lid with a thump and handed yellow-glow the jewelry. "Take care of this, darling. Should be worth about six grand all tot.
"She kissed him on the cheek. "Be careful, Sid."
"Yeah, yeah. Now get that naked ass back in there and make us some money, bitch," he laughed.
* * *
Sid waited on a narrow, dirt road about half-a-mile off the interstate until a white van drove up and two men in dark suits got out.
"You got her?" the tall, slender one asked. Slender, but Sid knew that he had muscles like coiled steel.
"Just like always," Sid said, in his raspy voice, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Underneath his jacket was a fully loaded .45 automatic with illegal Black Talons. He'd dealt with The Followers of Anubis for a long time, but he wasn't taking any chances. He didn't know what they did with the women he brought them, but he could guess, and he was certain of one thing, he wasn't going to turn his back on them.
"Well, let's take a look at her," said the other guy, a blond who had the physique of a body builder. "She's got to be pretty or it's no deal."
"Yeah, you don't have to worry about that," Sid grunted. "She's prime pelt."
They stood back as Sid opened the trunk. They knew better than to try anything with him. In truth, they had no desire to, for Sid would be hard to replace. As long as he was well paid, he could always be counted of to deliver quality merchandise. A rare trait even in legitimate markets.
When he had the trunk open, he motioned for them to take a look.
"She'll do," the slender man said without hesitation. They looked at each other and grinned.
Muscle boy got a stretcher out of the van, and they loaded Allison onto it. They paid Sid, then hefted her into the van.