1. Sleep of the Guilty


    Date: 2/15/2015, Categories: Wife Lovers, Author: marlowe, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    pleasure through grunts, curses and breathless wheezes, reaching the summit of no return, his boiling testicles exploding in a crescendo of uncompromising force, firing a copious amount of molten hot lava from his balls and into his straining organ, erupting from the eye with the force of a volcano, sending a tide of white sticky ballast shooting indiscriminately against the inner walls of her most treasured place, flooding the cervix in a never ending torrent of continuous bursts until his precious reserves were empty and his softening penis slipped from her body. Peeling away his sweat soaked body, collapsing in a heap on the back seat of the car, pooling in each other’s perspiration and breathing in urgent gasps, two hearts beating franticly in the darkness, trying to get precious oxygen into their lungs. A crippling silence and the aroma of overheated sex filled the air with haunting trepidation. No eye contact. No gestures. No words. Just grunts and sighs as they fumbled nervously in the darkness, gathering clothes from the floor and forcing smiles that quickly faded. It was almost two in the morning when she drove the car out of the sea front car park. Neither of them said very much, but it was evident by the contented smile on Sandra’s face that one of them had enjoyed their night of betrayal. The guilt and deceit hung like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. He frowned and sighed but he couldn’t smile. In fact, he didn’t think he would ever smile again, ...
    especially after Jimmy Boyd had finished with him. Tracing a finger over his face, touching his nose, his eyes and lips, wondering what kind of shape they would be in after Jimmy gets through with him. He took a moment to study his reflection in the car window. ‘ How can you smile when you have no teeth?’ he thought. A whispered voice and an outstretched hand with a cigarette broke the silence. The first intake made him cough but that didn’t matter. He had other things on his mind. ‘Fuck it, every condemned man is granted a last request. After all what more had he got to loose. The nervous tension and anxiety had probably set him on the path to becoming a confirmed smoker. And now he was heading home to confront a man who he had just betrayed. And that man was Jimmy Boyd, a self-confessed homicidal maniac, a man who enjoyed inflicting pain on people before beating them unconscious. He nervously chewed the inside of his mouth. About a mile away from the house, Sandra pulled the car to a halt and cut the engine. The haunting reality swept through his body in a suffocating nausea, beads of sweat forming on his brow and on the palms of his hands, his face twisting in a contorted mask of dread, the contents of his stomach threatening to make an appearance,. “Don’t worry, Mark,” she said, with assurance, kissing the side of his face. “Remember what we talked about. Follow the plan and everything will be fine....Trust me.” The kiss and her words of assurance didn’t make him feel any better ...
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