Packer's Revenge Ch. 02

"Please," she moaned. "Please, don't. Please, yes."

Packer slid his hand down over her tummy. He slid his other hand down the crack of her ass. He slid his fingers beneath the thong strap in the back and, cupping her ass cheeks in the palm of his hand, he penetrated her pussy with his middle finger. She was sopping wet.

"Oh Jesus," she groaned. "Please, we mustn't. Please, I can't. I'm married, Garett. I'm a bride."

But her head drooped sideways until the side of the bicycle helmet rested against his chest. She gripped his forward forearm with both hands as he reached beneath the front of her thong; but she didn't seize him in order to stop him – she seized him to guide him into position.

He diddled her in front and finger fucked her from behind. Her cunt was a swamp. She moaned and whimpered and begged him to stop. When he cupped her vulva with his forward hand and slid that middle finger into her from the front, so he was penetrating her from both fore and aft, she ceased to protest and kept saying only, "Yesyesyes, do me, Garett, rub me, darling, I need it so, yesyesyes. Make me come on my honeymoon. Make me come, Garett."

She moaned long and low as her orgasm overtook her. Her body shook and shuddered against him. He lifted her by the crotch, up onto her toes. She came and came and came. She rode on long waves of pleasure that practically lifted her from Packer's arms.

Finally she turned to face him and they embraced. Her bare breasts seared against his chest. His big cock pressed against her belly.

Then, almost embarrassed: "I have to go."

"Don't," he said, pressing her against him more tightly.

"No, please."

She freed herself from his arms and went quickly to pull on her shorts. He watched helplessly, his erection finally beginning to subside. She avoided looking at him as she strode toward the door.

"Thank you," she said meekly. He wondered if perhaps she was more shaken than he was. "Thank you for all your help."

And then she was gone. Through the screens he heard her walking her bike up the steps. An empty moment of silence, then he heard the hum of the chain as she pedaled away, back toward the inn at the end of the lake.

Back to her husband, Packer thought sadly. He felt bereft. He didn't believe he would ever see her again. He would never kiss her. He would never know the color of her eyes.