Packer's Revenge Ch. 01

Packer dozed a little after Eva kissed his cheek and went to make breakfast. A lucid dream swirled up from the depths, so clear and real he thought at first that it was really happening. He found himself suddenly standing in the room he shared with Brenda on the other side of the house. Brenda was on her knees at the foot of the futon, her bare back angled down so she could rest her head and shoulders on the mattress. Packer stood on the floor behind her, his prick hard as some ancient dildo fashioned from marble. He held Brenda's hips and fucked her with white hot fury, his dangling balls slapping her vulva from behind, his belly smacking her ass while he performed the grim deed, her cunt clutching greedily at his rampaging cock.

At first Packer was puzzled. How did he get in here? How did Brenda get back home so fast? Wasn't he in Eva's bed across the way, in the long narrow room that was once a second-floor porch, where he now slept with the girl during Brenda's frequent absences? Wasn't that the tender imprint of Eva's lips that he felt on his cheek?

Brenda gasped in lewd delight. "That's right," she hissed, "fuck me, Garett! Fuck me fast and hard with your big fucking prick, you fucking fucker!"

Renewing his efforts, plunging even faster and harder into Brenda's sopping cunt, Packer looked up at the framed color print on the wall above the bed: "Young Woman in a Boat."

Packer furrowed his brow and studied the picture to stave off his boiling jism. By James Tissot, he thought, 1870. Oh, Brenda had taught him a thing or two about art. Brenda had taught him a thing or two about lots of things.

What's she thinking about, that girl in the boat? Packer wondered. Floating along in all that brocade and silk. She's steamy underneath it all, isn't she? She's fucking hot. She's nothing but a big blossoming clit sitting in that boat, looking for something she's bound to find if she keeps at it looking like that. Or maybe she already did find it – and turned it into that silly-assed little lapdog sitting in the stern like he's the king of Siam.

Brenda shrieked. "Oh! You cunt fucking bastard! Poke me good, you prick!"

The bed began to thump against the wall beneath the picture. Fall down, he thought at the print, and as soon as he thought it he felt the soft slap of deja vu.

This has happened before, he thought.

Anxiously, he glanced over at the door and saw that it was about a third of the way open.

No, he thought. No! He knew what was going to happen next: he was going to look down at his cock, thrusting in and out of Brenda's cunt, and when he looked back up Eva would be standing there in the hallway, watching him fuck her mother. Their eyes would meet and after that nothing would ever be the same. After that he would become another man, and he didn't know whether that man was good or bad. He didn't know whether that man deserved to reside in the house of life or if the world would be a better place without him.

He glared at the cunt lips flowering open and then slurping shut after his conquering shaft.

"Yes, Packer! Yes! Please make me yours!"

Something was wrong. That voice, those words. Not the imperious command of a queen who was used to getting her way. There was actually a hint of pleading in that voice, a desire not at all certain of being fulfilled.

Frightened, Packer looked up at the young woman in the boat; then he glanced over to the open doorway.

Brenda stood in the hallway, watching him fuck someone else.

"Please!" cried Packer's paramour. It was the voice of a princess, young and eager, but unsure of her place in the scheme of things. Afraid that she had ventured too far into the world but was unable now to turn back.

"Please, please, please, Packer! Make me yours!"

Everything had come unglued. Packer's lust-drenched world was out of kilter. He looked down at Eva. His angry fucking segued into something else. Something he didn't quite understand. He slowed down and Eva sighed with pleasure.

"Oh, Packer. Oh, oh, oh. You're so good to me, Packer. I love your fucking."

He looked defiantly back at Brenda. The mother stood slack jawed, watching him service her daughter.

So this is what it feels like, he thought.

Revenge.

He jerked upright in Eva's bed. His rock hard cock stuck straight up. The bald purple head glistened with precum. A glance at Eva's alarm clock atop the upended plastic milk crate made his prick throb even more.

Packer stood up from the girl's bed and lifted his short robe from where he had draped it over the back of the wicker chair where he sometimes sat with Eva astride him. Slipping into the robe, his thick cock preceding him, he stepped out on the landing at the top of the front stairs, doubled back into the little sewing room, and hurried up the stairs to his third-floor study. He glanced at the Soloflex, where he had done so much more than just work out. Angrily, lustfully, he remembered directing Adam's jizz onto Brenda's tits. He remembered commanding Eva to sit astride the bench, to hold her full young breasts up to him while he stood before her jacking off, seeking to exorcise himself of the memory of Adam's spunk splooging on Brenda's chest and what he did afterward to satisfy the desire of the woman he thought he loved.

Shaking the memories, Packer woke up his computer and refreshed the web page. His cock ached so hard he thought it would split open along the seams. Brenda's plane was in at Logan.

With his cock still leading the way, he went back down to the main apartment and out to the kitchen. Eva – so lovely, so nude – stood with her back to him at the counter, slicing strawberries. Packer drank in her long blonde hair, her lithe back, her magnificent bubble ass, her long lovely legs.

It was perfect.

She sensed his presence and looked over her shoulder. When she saw his cock sticking from his robe she set down the paring knife and stood erect.

"Good morning, Packer. Hungry for breakfast?" The twenty-two-year-old girl eyed his forty-two-year-old cock and licked her lips.

"I'm hungry for you," he said throatily.

Still smiling she sidled toward him, her pink nipples jutting erect before his very eyes. She reached out and took his hot prick into her cool hand. Something clouded her blue-gray eyes when she looked up at him.

"I'm glad we still have all day," she said, gently squeezing him. "Before she gets home."

"Shhh," he said, placing the tip of his index finger on her lips.

Pulling her against him, he kissed her as he had never kissed her before. It was a kiss that seemed to contain all the other kisses her ever gave her – and something else as well. Something wicked. The girl felt the power in him and shuddered.

Yes, Packer thought. It was all perfect. Soon he would have his revenge. It was what he had been waiting for.

So why did he feel like such a prick?