No Controlling Legal Authority Ch. 07

"Goddamn," Archie cursed in frustration. He scowled and poked haphazardly at her ineffectually. She felt him pressing her, and knew it would be difficult because she was dry and unprepared for him. She gritted her teeth and steeled herself to endure his assault. She lay motionless, neither helping nor hindering, and he grunted helplessly above her.

"Open up, bitch; you can't be that tight," he snarled forcing her to open slightly under his onslaught.

She opened her legs wider, even placing one foot on the back of the couch, but it availed him nothing. He grunted again, pressing harder, and she feared her tissue would tear to shreds if he succeeded in entering her. His fingers clawed at her where they were joined, not gently or coaxingly, but like an overly eager child ripping the wrapping off a birthday present. His nails scored her tender flesh as he sought to widen her opening. She whimpered and bit her lip and resigned herself to being torn to pieces. He forced himself upon her, and she looked down at the bridge that linked their bodies and gasped when it bent nearly double with the pressure of his thrust. Still she did not yield, and his frustration mounted.

"Godammit, you skinny bitch, she said you would be too tight for me." Sweat oozed from the band of his cap and trickled into his eyes. He blinked against the sting and cursed her for her inability to receive him.

"Who said, Archie?" she asked gently, trying to sound sympathetic. His eyes were clenched shut. His lips were tight against his teeth. His fingers were pulling at her, stretching her flesh beyond the limits of her endurance, digging at her like a badger chasing a mole down a hole. His mind was on her, and the opening he was desperately attempting to fill, and his guard was down.

"Mommy," he muttered absently, and spit on his fingers to wet them.

She stiffened under him, but he was too engrossed to notice. The quick talons of hatred seized her heart in that instant. She hated him and his mother for what she had turned him into. She remembered with anger how her cheerleader outfit had been the one to fit the worst, how it had been three sizes too small and barely covered the cheeks of her butt when she tried it on. She remembered how Nancy had flipped up the back and patted her bare buttocks, saying "nice ass, Anne, bet somebody's gonna really enjoy that one of these days."

She felt his fingers transferring his spittle to her body, and her mind reeled with the enormity of her discovery. She collected what courage remained and spoke, "What did she tell you about me, Archie?"

"It doesn't matter," he said choking on the words in his frustration.

"Yes, it does, baby. I want to help you. Tell me what she said about me."

He struggled vainly to pierce her, to cloak himself with her body and relieve his raging desire in her dark hole. He had lodged himself within her outer ring, but, push as he might, could gain no deeper toehold, and the torment of being denied was driving him beyond the brink of cogency. Her words, soft and yielding, drew him out, "She said you'd be too tight for me to fuck and that I ought to be happy with her."

He gathered himself for another push, and she braced herself. "Aren't you happy with her, Archie? Doesn't she let you do what you want to her?"

"Yeah, she does, but you're prettier. I told her I wanted to fuck you, too." His lust was running at spate; he had no time to heed the warning signals in the back of his mind. He pushed harder, and she felt herself stretching under the pressure of his assault.

"Didn't that make her mad, Archie? You telling her you wanted to fuck me, too. I would be jealous too, if you told me you wanted to fuck her."

"Uh, I don't know. She told me to go ahead, if I wanted fuck you that bad, but that you'd be too small for my cock, is all."

"Is she the right size for you, Archie. Does her cunt fit your cock good?" He shook with the impact of her words. She felt him tremble as memories of his deviant desires awakened in his muddled brain.

"Yes, yes, just right," he panted excitedly.

"She lets you slide that big cock of yours right up her pussy, and lets you fuck her brains out, doesn't she, Archie?" She had found her stride and the pathway to her escape, and she drew him out with slippery words.

"Yes, yes." He shook his head and tilted his chin toward the ceiling. His eyes were shut as wanton, slutty images danced in his brain.

"She loves it too, doesn't she? Loves it when you fuck her, and I know she screams out begging you to fuck her, to shove your huge cock into her. And, she tells you how good it feels to have your cock in her pussy, doesn't she?"

"Yes, yes," he chanted in awed response, "she does."

"And, you cum in her pussy and fill her up, don't you, baby, and she feels it squirting up inside her and begs you to keep fucking her and filling her up with cum, and she cums too, and she hangs on to you and bucks, fucking you like she's crazy."

He was mad with lust. His hands circled her waist, pulling her onto his spike, trying to drive her down on him. "Goddamn, goddamn," he panted helplessly as she refused to admit him.

He hovered over her loins, lunging, jerking impotently, insane with the need to achieve his release. Her legs were splayed under him, open and inviting, yet unyielding and unremitting. He felt the heat from her body touching him, and he sobbed with frustrated desire. He felt the tight circle of her opening around him, and the promise of the exquisite sheathing beyond ignited his dementia.

"Oh, please, please, open up; let me put it in."

She reigned in her disgust. He was ready for her. She brought him to the edge and needed only the tiniest shove to push him over. She rolled her hips up to him in a gesture of acceptance.

"Here Archie, let me help you, baby." Her voice was soft and gentle, almost motherly, and she reached down to take him in her hands.

"Noooo, nooooo, don't touch me," he sobbed as her fingers encircled his huge column of flesh.

"Why not, Archie, it's what you wanted, isn't it?" She had become cold and calculating, and the harshness of her words robbed him of his pleasure.

"Uuuugghhhhh," he grunted at her touch, and she felt him throb in her grasp and expertly moved her hands on him in a quick succession of tiny strokes. She wiggled and dislodged him, and he sagged in bitter disappointment as his intentions poured out onto her milky white thighs and stained the rich dark leather of the sofa beneath her.

"Nooooooo," he cried and tried to stuff himself back into her, but he had already lost his ardor and failed the attempt.

"Yesssssssss, big boy," she taunted him, pushing him away and scrambling to her feet. "Maybe you better run on home to mommy, and not try to play with grownups anymore, until you learn how."

He slumped dejectedly on the couch, embarrassed by his inability, covering himself in shame, and watched silently as she walked to the wet bar and casually wiped herself clean with a bar towel. She turned and crossed the room, passing within inches of his legs, deliberately invading his space, and, as she passed, she tossed the towel onto his lap, and said in cold fury, "Thanks for the laugh, stud; I'll find my own way out."