The Murdered World 50

She knelt down behind the man who was eating her sister out and embraced him, pressing her own small breasts into his back, reaching around him to grope a sizable pec, and reaching between them to enter herself, stroke herself. There was a fine sheen of sweat all over Frank’s naked body and Emma eagerly slid herself along it, merging their arousal, kindling their passion to a new heat. Licking the perspiration from Frank’s neck and diving her face into his tousled hair to coat herself with the stuff too.

She was immersed in him, but she could smell her sister’s hot cunt, just a few inches away, hear Christina’s moans from right above her… this had to be how Christina would sound if she were going down on her personally.

“That’s right, Frank,” she whispered in his ear, but loud enough for Christina to hear, so did it even count? “Lick that pussy. Lick that wet ginger cunt. Don’t you just love it? You can have mine next, baby, oh God, you can even kiss me. Kiss me after my sister comes in your mouth. I don’t care. I’m here for you to fuck.”

She repositioned herself, sitting on the backs of Frank’s kneeling legs so she could vine herself around his body, legs getting a hold on his narrow waist, ankles crossing… she couldn’t much rub herself against the small of his back, but that didn’t matter, it turned her on enough to have him in her grip. Then she reached down abs like a cobblestone path until she found his manhood.

God, he was big. It had confused Emma for a moment that Christina would rather be eaten out than have that beast inside her, but that was the flipside of it. It would hurt to have that sizable cock inside her—hurt good—but still hurt. Christina wasn’t used to it hurting; she wasn’t used to anything, after years of Angel being as dickless as his name implied. Emma would have to be the big sister here. She’d have to show Christina that it was worth it, no matter how much she got stretched by that beauty of a monster of a prick.

“God, you two are perfect for each other.” Christina’s voice, only she didn’t sound turned on anymore. She wrenched herself away from Frank and Emma was left handling his deflating erection. It went down despite how she stroked it.

“You really don’t have a conscience, do you Frank? You’d fuck both of us—sisters, for Christ’s sake. And Emma, shit, you looked like you were one minute away from eating me out yourself!”

“Like hell!” Emma said. “Why the fuck should we do that to each other, we have Frank for that!?”

Christina gathered up her clothes, so brusquely that Emma was reminded of their mom snatching dirty clothes up off the bedroom floor because was it too much to ask that they put them in the hamper when she was the one who took the hamper to the laundry room? “You’re goddamn perverts. Both of you. And just because you’re losing your minds, turning this whole thing into some excuse for an orgy, doesn’t mean I’m going to!”

Emma let go of Frank and picked herself up. Fucking hell, was she sick of Christina being the good sister. As if Christina hadn’t gotten off just as much as she had last night. “Don’t get high and mighty with me, Christy. You wanted to see if Frank would eat you out like he did me. Fine, he would. Are you happy now? Because you’d be a lot happier if you let him finish…”

Christina held the pile of clothes to her naked chest. “You’re so deluded. What next, are you going to fight me over who can make him come? Go on. Let him fucking creampie you. I’m done.”

“Such a fucking hypocrite and such a cold fish--!”

“Enjoy being a slut!”

“Obviously I will!”

Christina turned to leave. Frank was in the doorway. He towered over her without even trying.

“If I wanted to, I could force you. You’d hate yourself, but you’d come and come and come. Don’t toy with me, mob wife.”

A moment passed and Emma didn’t know what Christina would do. Kick him in the balls? Kiss him? As much as a prude as Christina was, Emma didn’t think she could put aside how it had felt having him inside her. The only reason to say no was to stick to this act of being a moral paragon.

Frank turned his body and in the room he made, Christina slid past him and out into the corridor. Leaving Emma and Frank alone.

Frank had never seemed more like a statue to Emma. Not just unmoving, but incapable of movement. His perfect physique made of some stone so dense, so hard, that nothing escaped from its interior. Was he totally awash in feeling or simply considering, calculating, expending zero energy on motion because it was all cosigned to weighing each and every individual variable?

This was his problem, Emma thought. He had to get out of his own head. He was comfortable there, but if they were to find any sort of equilibrium, he would have to put himself out there instead of retreating into the comfortable confines of his own counsel.

She giggled to herself. That sorta rhymed.

“Alone at last,” she cooed in Frank’s ear, running a few dainty fingertips along his massive muscles. “You’ve tasted one sister. Now how about trying the rest of the family meat?”

“She’s right,” Frank responded.

“She is!?”

“I’m unarmed. Need to get into the gun vault while we still have the element of surprise.”

“Element of surprise? You’re talking about the looters?”

Frank went about collecting his clothes. All Emma could do was the same thing, feeling oddly shamed as he picked up her scattered clothes and tossed them to her. She knew he didn’t mean to make her feel that way—didn’t mean to make her feel anything—but she didn’t think any man had ever wanted her to get dressed without his wife’s key rattling in the lock at that very moment.

Frank pulled up his pants and that was the last of the time he was willing to waste on clothes. Shirtless and with his shoes in his hand, he left. Off to the gun vault, because he’d rather finger that than her.

“Damn you, Christina,” Emma muttered to herself. Why’d that bitch have to ruin such a good thing for all of them?

***

Soldier, she’d called him. You’re a soldier. You soldier. It felt like she was calling him by a new name. Even stranger, it fit.

He’d killed some people as a soldier, at war, on the battlefield. Far more he’d killed as the Punisher. He’d had his reasons, but none of them were those of a soldier. He wasn’t fighting for his country, except in the abstract. Wasn’t fighting for pay, although he had captured far more money than he’d ever made in the Marines. And he wasn’t fighting for the citizenry, though he’d hoped that by removing the predators from society, at least some of them got to enjoy the peace that was forever denied him.

Then again, had he really cared enough to hope?

It was different now. Christina, Emma, they were concrete. They had faces. And they depended on him. Christina might’ve meant to bullshit him, but she hadn’t managed to lie. Whether they liked it or not, the sisters were his responsibility. He was their man, their soldier. They needed defense, duty, even affection… things he could at least try to provide.

Frank hadn’t really taken an interest in their state of mind up until now. Assuming it would work itself out. They had each other to rely on. The sex was good, but he could do without it. If they wanted him, he could give them what they needed. If they didn’t want him, he could be alone. He had honed himself at it until the need for companionship was unable to get through how all-encompassingly self-sufficient he was.

But maybe he had something to offer. Something more than just killing on their behalf. Something in him, not something he did.

It was a strangely intoxicating thought and it brought with it a strangely flickering regret. He shouldn’t have turned Emma down. She needed to be needed; it would’ve been easy to need her. Maybe not as easy as not needing her…

Frank rumbled a small, critical laugh as he punched in the next set of numbers. He had a man’s disdain for womanly overemotion—was this so different, though? Passing up good pussy because he wanted to prove he could do without it?

He was unfamiliar with this brand of remorse. His preference was for regretting the fate that had befallen his family. Frank wasn’t used to trying this new kind. He didn’t feel it strongly enough to go find Emma and… anything. But the thought was persistent and he didn’t know if there was a difference between that and wanting her.