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Jess couldn't wait any longer. She positioned herself over Jack's cock and slid him easily into her moistened pussy hole.

Jack was big, and despite her readiness, Jess had to slide up and down a few times before he was fully inside her, and she could rut against him, pushing his ball sack up into the cleft of her ass-hole. Jack let her ride him, pulling her close to him and sucking her tits. Biting them sometimes, and playing with her ass-hole, with which it seemed like he had a fixation.

Jess could feel it coming. She rutted him even harder, rolling her hips forward so her clitoris rubbed against his pubic bone, and she felt him pressing against her G-Spot up at the front of her pussy. The front seat was squeaking so much it sounded like a box of rats slowly drowning and Jess concentrated on that sound while she brought her hands up to Jack's neck and began to choke him.

Jess was squealing with delight with each thrust, and Jack was groaning heavily now too, the end beginning to present itself.

Jack didn't give up on Jess's tits, nor did he stop pushing against the tight muscle of her ass-hole. As she lifted her ass forward to press her clitoris against his bone, he pushed his finger deeper and deeper into her hole until eventually his entire finger was inside her, and he could feel his cock rubbing against it. With his other hand he began to move sticky goo around Jess's clitoris, and it wasn't long before the sensation of all three of those things made her come.

Jess gripped Jack's neck tightly, pressed her thumbs into his throat and felt herself begin to float. She pushed her pussy as far down as she could, arched her neck upwards and came so intensely on Jack's cock and finger, she thought she was never going to stop. She felt her leg spasming, contractions riding through her pussy as though there was a lighting storm taking place in her cunt, and shivers up and down her spine that made her body feel completely weightless.

It was the lightest she'd ever felt, and the only time in as much time as she could remember when she'd had a moment of pleasure to herself. A moment without worry and concern and doubt. A moment of happiness.

Jack released her grip on his neck and Jess came back down to earth. She pressed herself into him for a moment, and then tilted herself to the side so Jack could move out from underneath her. She knew what he wanted without him having to ask, and after that, she was happy to give him the world if she had it to offer. She bent across the two seats and arched her back up towards him like a cat. Jack repositioned her, so she was leaned further forward and easier to penetrate. He licked her ass-hole until he was happy it was ready, and then spat on his hand and covered his cock in his saliva.

Jess moaned like a bear caught in a metal trap, while he forced his way inside her ass-hole, digging his cock so deep she felt like it was pressing against his throat. It burned at first, but that pain slowly subsided and melted away into orgasmic pleasure, as Jack began to root her deeply.

He held onto her hip with one hand and steadied himself against the roof of the car with the other, while his powerful thighs motored his cock into her softened hole.

She knew it was going to come before he announced it, from the sounds gargling out of his throat, and the sudden swelling of his cock head inside her.

“Fuck”, was all he said, before his junk exploded, and filled her red hot ass-hole with several squirts of his thick salty semen.

Jess felt like gold warming in the sun. She felt like she was lying on the beach in the summer with the waves licking her toes. She could have stayed there for an eternity and never come back down.

Jack pulled away from her and she felt like she was having a part of her own body removed. As soon as he was gone from her, she felt the cold of the night clawing in. Suddenly she felt very sober and even more unsure of herself. Jack sat in the driver's seat alongside her and she looked at his still erect cock and then up at his face. He smiled at her.

“I think I want to go home now”, she said.

They dressed and Jack rode her out along the highway, back towards her house. Each bump on the rutted road loosened the cum that Jack had stuffed deep into her ass, so when she got back to her front door, her panties were soaked in his creamy load, and she could feel it running down the inside of her leg.

She didn't kiss Jack good-bye, so he just left and said he'd see her around. Just before she went inside, she prayed for three things, that Denny was alright, that Carl wasn't there and that he was the man that Jack had been hired to find.

D
enny was waiting for her in the darkness, wrapped up in his makeshift bed with the blanket pulled tight up to his neck like a protective cloak. When the door opened he yelled her name, like a lost lion cub calling to its mother, in the baron unforgiving wilderness that he called his home.

Jess went to him and scooped him up into her arms. A moment later he could feel her salty tears dripping down her still puffy face.

“Is he here?”

Denny shook his head.

“Why aren't you asleep?”

“I was waiting for you”, Denny said and then buried himself even further into Jess's neck.

“Sleep with me tonight”, Jess said.

“What about him?” Denny said, a lilt of worry snapping his voice in two like a fallen twig under a size nine boot.

“Shush”, Jess said and smoothed the back of his head. “You need to sleep. If he comes, I'll move you back into here.”

Jess spent the whole night awake, her head thick with sleep but too scared to succumb to it. She lay rigid in the bed with Denny snoozing at her size, her jaw flashing bolts of pain all the way down her neck and into her spine, her heart quickening at every unusual sound that might indicate the return of the man she now considered to be the devil himself.

The first signs of sun broke through the window at six, and by seven thirty the room was flush with light. Denny stirred a few minutes later, and she let him sleep for a quarter of an hour more until she wriggled out from underneath him and got him awake.

Denny pulled the covers up over his head to try and hide from the inevitable, but Jess pulled them back and they fought a little over the fabric, laughing to each other, before Denny relented and did what he was asked to do.

At the breakfast table, Denny struggled with his bowl of oatmeal, made thick with water and sweetened with a sachet of sugar taken from the cafe. It looked horrible and it tasted even worse. Jess drank old coffee and passed on the food. She could feel sleep pressing at her temples like big stones trying to squash apples.

“Maybe he's gone”, Denny said excitedly.

“I wouldn't count on it just yet, little man”, Jess said. “It aint like Carl to up and leave without taking as much as he can to go with him. Besides which, all of his things are still here.”

“Well, I hope he's gone.”

“Eat your oatmeal”, Jess said. “You'll be hungry later if you don't.”

Jess watched her son as he spooned the grainy liquid into one corner of his bowl and began to shape it into a mound instead of ploughing it into his mouth like you'd expect someone to do who survived on one meal a day, and that one not anywhere near big enough to satisfy him. She was too tired and too bust up to complain, too happy to see him happy to stop his game. Denny had been through more than she had, and this kid was bright, happy and optimistic. She was so proud of him. Again she found that she was crying and wiped away the tears quickly from embarrassment.

“What's wrong, Mom?” Denny asked, concerned.

“Nothing”, she said. “It's nothing. I'm just tired that's all.”

Denny put his spoon down and pushed the bowl away from him. He turned himself sideways and cuddled into his mom.

“Don't worry, Mom”, he said. “Everything will be fine, you'll see.”

Jess kissed her son on the top of his head.

“I hope so sweetie”, she said. “I truly hope so.”

C
leveland stood in the mud, baked hard by a hundred years of sun. There was a sign some ways off that indicated the state line in faded letters, and another that indicated the speed limit. All three of them had seen better days. The land was flat and dusty and looked like it was good for nothing but filling in the blanks, so the earth could breath between towns.

Cleveland dropped his cigarette butt to the ground and squashed it flat under the toe of his boot, kicking the dust up into the air like an army of ghosts, memories of a time long ago when the rains fell and the grasses grew and the devil stayed in his hole. Cleveland remembered that time. He was old enough to have seen it first hand, and young enough back then to never think it would go away. How wrong he was.

He'd seen a lot in his time and the older he got, the more tired he was of the way the world was changing. He used to know why people did bad things, but now he struggled to comprehend the evil he saw so deeply in the eyes of those men he'd managed to catch and the thousand more that plagued him like ghosts in the night, their eyes coming to him in the same way the eyes of the dead did, as though he was the one who'd done them wrong. Carl Taylor was one of those men, one of those men where evil lurked inside with no reason.

The land was so flat he could see Jack's pick-up approaching from over five miles away. It took him twenty minutes to plough across the beaten up road, kicking up the dust behind him like a gray tornado, and all the while Cleveland watched him coming, like Charon carrying a dead man across the River Styx.

He pulled up in front of Cleveland and Cleveland spat on the ground and pulled another cigarette out of his packet and lit it up and watched Jack and the man trussed up in the back of the car and had little to say to them both.

Jack opened up the door and pulled Carl out and Carl stumbled a little because both of his hands and his feet were bound together, so he ended up on his knees in the dirt.

“That him?” Jack said.

Cleveland spat again. “That's him”, he said.

“Fuck you”, Carl said. “Fuck you both.”

He had marks on his face and blood stains over a torn shirt that Cleveland knew the story of without asking, but the fight was gone out of him. He was like a fighting dog backed into a corner that knew it was about to die. Short of whining a little bit, he was gone.

Cleveland approached him, got down on his knees and looked him square in the eyes. He didn't recognize anything in the man he could call human.

“You caught the devil, Jack”, Cleveland said. “Put him in the boot of the car, I don't trust him in the back.”

Jack dragged him across to Cleveland's car, lifted him up and tumbled him into the boot. Before Carl could get out another word, darkness shut off his senses.

Jack kicked the dust a while and smoked with Cleveland and they talked about old times and how the storms were coming and how nothing would be the same again.

“You're getting old”, Jack said.

“I've got old”, Cleveland responded. “Come back, Jack”, he said. “They want to see you.”

“Oh, I'm not going anywhere yet”, Jack said. “Not now it's just got interesting.”

Cleveland looked at his old buddy looking away and he knew that look because he'd seen it a few times before.

“Oh, Jack”, he said. “Don't go breaking her heart now.”

Jack smiled.

“Don't you worry, Cleveland. You might be seeing a lot more of me than you first thought.”

Jack got into his car and pulled away, and Cleveland watched the gray tornado for a while before he got back into his own car. It was almost dark when he felt like he had enough energy to pull away himself, and well past dinner time when he finally got Carl back to the station and behind bars.

“You should have just shot him in the desert and left him there for the vultures”, his deputy said to him as he turned the key to the cell, his eyes all the while fixed on Carl, taunting him. “Pushed him over the state line and let that lot deal with the paperwork. Save a lot of time and effort.”

“Yeah well”, Cleveland said, “For good or bad, that's not the way things work.”

Copyright
©
2016 by Stella Noir & Aria Frost

U
nder his command, she gripped the edges of the leather topped writing desk, until her fingertips went white. Around her neck was a leather belt, the other end of which was wrapped around the fingers of a nicotine stained hand, belonging to detective Devizes Marsh. This girl's name, which happened to be Elisa, he had already forgotten. She was twenty one, perhaps twenty two at best, gifted with a long slender back that led up to a perfectly petite neck, remnants of her distant Russian heritage, and down to a well rounded ass, which Marsh was busy spanking with a paddle of wood that looked like a chopping board for cheese. Already, a red patch had begun to form on her beautiful, peach-like skin, mottling it to the color of a late summer sunset.

Elisa had her panties half way down her legs, her high heels still on, and her skirt pulled up to lay across her back. She was naked from the waist up, and the cool touch of the leather inlay was making her nipples turn to stone. Marsh himself was as hard as a rock, despite the half bottle of not nearly expensive enough whiskey he'd consumed throughout the night. His cock gripped the air like the pregnant metal blade of a Mexican cuchillero, pre-cum dripping off the end like blood from a recent strike. He lifted the paddle again, splintered it against her soft pert behind, and then tightened the leather strap until he could hear her choke.

“You like that?”, he said in a thick, gravelly Scottish accent, never lost in all of his time in small towns of America, before he pulled the strap tighter even more. “I know you do.”

Marsh threw the spanking paddle down.

“Open those legs up”, he barked at her, before he kicked them wide himself, as though the girl he had leaned over his desk was a suspect he'd just apprehended burgling his house. Marsh closed in on her. He spat on his hand and rubbed saliva around his cock, but it wasn't needed. Elisa was just as turned on as he was. She hadn't gone home with Marsh expecting this, but neither was she disappointed that it had happened.