The Murdered World 46

Frank looked down at Christina’s naked body—a splash of beautiful nudity so incredibly vibrant in contrast to these dank surroundings that she actually seemed out of place, like a trick of the eye. He thought of picking her up, carrying her to bed, going to sleep with that soft warmth gathered in his arms… It shocked him that his mind would jump so freely to such a thing.

She wasn’t his wife. She wasn’t a corpse.

And though he’d never claimed a great understanding of women, he doubted she’d want to wake up with him, just because she’d given him a blowjob.

Still, she might take him leaving her lying on the cold floor as an insult. And he’d found the head highly satisfactory. The proof was in the soup of ejaculate currently flowing out of her open mouth, pooling in the stirring breeze of her exhalations.

Frank bent low, collared her with arms around her midsection, and hefted her easily. She was no sylph, but the weight felt good in his arms. Part of that sizable lift was his own load, gratefully accepted by a mouth that had swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. He felt like he was picking up something that was his.

He carried her into the bunkroom, still fighting to be gentlemanly. He wouldn’t grope her, wouldn’t cradle her in his arms, wouldn’t rest his gathering erection against her ample curves. He’d make her no more than a sack of laundry in his mind. He dropped her down onto the nearest bunk and resolved not to look at her.

It was night. He needed rest. There was nothing to be done for the smoldering fire he felt inside, the hunger that insisted it wasn’t sated, the stiffness reawakening in his slackened body—breathing new life into his cock off the intoxication he’d felt from touching Christina, smelling her, seeing her mouth full of his seed and knowing he could do that to the rest of her holes…

A booklight came on with a click. He turned his head and saw Emma lying down in the row across from where he’d set down her sister. The little glow was enough to certify her nakedness. Her bare shoulders poked out above the sheets and milk-white leg dangled down the side of the bed, toes fisting and uncoiling to a beat Frank could feel himself.

“I’m getting real tired of you fucking my sister and not me. We talked about this, remember? As long as there’s only three of us, Christina has to share.”

Frank felt not at all abashed at his nudity, but he did feel… chagrinned… at the state of his erection. He couldn’t manage the proud stand her beauty deserved, not so soon after Christina. He’d planned on an amount of foreplay—tasting and touching all those luscious curves the redhead boasted—but just by looking at her, he could tell Emma didn’t want any of that.

She wanted to be fucked. Hard.

“We did talk about it. You slipped me a mickey.”

Emma shrugged her shoulders and the covers fell a little ways down her pale chest. One nipple emerged, pretty like a tart little strawberry on her small, well-shaped breast. “That was then. This is now. What’s the matter? Can’t get it up? One little suckjob and you’re done for the night, old man?”

Frank bared his teeth. He wondered if this was some womanly power play. Christina wiped him out so that when Emma made a move on him, he had nothing left for her. Proving some point.

It was insane, but these were insane times. Maybe they didn’t know, couldn’t tell, that there wasn’t enough human left in him for these dumb games to work on him. If she wanted Frank to fuck her, he’d fuck her.

He still remembered his honeymoon… days and nights when they hadn’t left the bed… his cock and her pussy weren’t enough to show all the love they had to express… he’d still been learning all the ways her body could be touched when she was taken from him. It was strange to think of continuing his explorations with Emma, this woman so unlike his wife. But then, he wasn’t thinking.

Neither of them wanted to think right now.

He eased closer to her, step by step, as if his cool intellect didn’t trust his bestial body with this tiny slip of a girl… so easy to bruise, to hurt… but so easy to satisfy too. He wondered how soon she’d come, just from having his hulking erection inside her tiny cunt. It was growing hard again, gathering in strength. But not soon enough.

He wouldn’t keep Emma waiting.

Frank tore the sheet away. It was a poor substitute for ripping off her clothes, which was what he wanted—to rend and tear until she was all his. He didn’t need a woman to make a big production of how seduced she was, but he tried to appreciate it.

She was as he expected, her young body all taut and tiny, a roseate patch of neatly clipped hair at her groin the only real color on her buttermilk body. Tiny freckles could not add up to a blemish. Indeed, they seemed to make her skin glow, like the lush red lipstick that invited him into her small mouth.

Emma shot up, instinctively trying to retrieve her covering, reaching out for it; Frank caught her wrist and pulled her doll-like body to his. He saw the heady sense of his nearness intoxicate her. She reached to his growing manhood, slender fingers wrapping around it, and giggled at how it swelled in her hand.

It was clear that he might put her off-balance, but he wasn’t going to offend her sensibilities, the way Christina always teetered on not fucking him. This sister actively wanted his aggression. She stroked him rapidly, trying to draw heat from the icy chill of his logic.

Frank took her kewpie-doll head in his big hands. He drew her closer to him, offering his aching organ the relief of her naked body, and her lips nipped playfully at his abs. He couldn’t kiss Christina—not after coming in her mouth like a firehose—but it was perversely exciting to do so with Emma, so sexual, so in need. His prick was still half-hard and he wouldn’t give it to her until it was ready to totally overwhelm her.

***

Christina’s pink tongue looped out of her mouth and tasted a droplet of cum from where it was snared on her cheek. The taste quivered in her, trying to be held by her dreaming mind, but it only managed to make her smile lasciviously. As though in approval of what her latest lover and her only sister were doing in the bed across from hers.

***

She looked him up and down, quaking with excitement at every bulging muscle on his body, every bristling hair from his chin on down.

“You want a real blowjob, baby?” Emma moaned. “You don’t have to face-fuck me to get me to swallow. But you can… if you want…”

Frank knelt on the bed, his kneecap pressing between her thighs. Emma sucked in breath as her desire skyrocketed, achieving the pinnacle of anticipation. She simply couldn’t want him anymore than she did now.

“I want that,” Frank growled, his voice coming from deep in his chest, where Emma could only imagine his heart was pounding something like hers. “I’m going to get it. And a lot more.”

A blissful smile curled Emma’s ruby lips. “Come and get it.”

Frank forced her face to his, almost smothering her with a violent kiss, sheer passion. She closed her eyes, groaning, and let him press her down to the mattress. He left her mouth quickly, as though afraid to bruise her lips anymore than he already had. N

ext, he kissed her throat, then worked his way along her small tits, sucking harshly on each stiff nipple like he was making sure the little gumdrops couldn’t get any harder. Emma whooped, forgetting all about her self-imposed rules on avoiding waking Christina. Her womanhood swelled. It felt like a passion flower in bloom. She was so close to coming it was insane.

He moved hurriedly down her body, rushing to each new kiss, each new erogenous zone he expertly tended. Frank’s tongue circled her belly button and worked a whole earthquake through her burning body. He went lower, leaving Emma crying out in dismay as he left the flesh he’d just aroused, then opening her legs wide when she realized where he was going.

His mouth found her seething gates, breathed in the inundated smell of her sparse pubic hair before pushing his tongue into where there was the most to taste.

“Oh God!” Emma trilled. “That’s it, that’s sooo good! Don’t stop! My pussy needs it! I fucking need it!”

Frank came to his knees, holding Emma’s thighs up around his head. She squealed, now hanging upside down, halfway to a handstand but not caring at all about the awkward position when Frank was still using his tongue on her—that was all that mattered.

She could feel his thick erection butting against her shoulder blade when she writhed around, trying to withstand the peak she was being brought to. But Emma was in no state to jerk him off. She barely managed to reach out and grab hold of his pulsing erection. But having him in her hand turned her on even more. It reminded Emma he hadn’t even started fucking her yet.