Page 18 of Wretched

I know she is getting agitated and my cock is ready to explode. She loves being in control, but in this position, I’ve taken all the control away from her. Hensley can honestly look at me and I will be stiff as a board the rest of the day. She oozes sexuality. When I slide my body up hers, I line my cock up to her, holding her bent over, then slam into her wet pussy. She clamps around me like we are one single cell. Hensley gives as good as she gets. I’m relentless with every thrust, and she matches me. I feel her ready to lose control, so I hold onto her abdomen to steady her.

Hensley’s moans turn intomewlsinstead of the loud screams I love hearing from her when I’m fucking this tight little cunt of hers.

Of mine,I think as I quicken my pace and bite back a groan.

I want her to know that I love fucking her–that I love the way her pussy hugs my cock, swallowing it deep into her core, but I want her to fucking scream for me first.

And when she does, when she groans loudly, I dig my nails into her hips as cum shoots out of the head of my cock and claims her.

The sensation is amazing, especially since I manage to hold onto it until she orgasms, milking every drop from me.

I pull out of her slowly, then kiss her neck, nibbling on it. That is my way of saying thank you. I know she likes to take charge and it is special when she relinquishes that control to me.

I crouch down to pull her pants up for her, then adjust mine when Hensley says, "I still say we should've pissed on him."

Chewing on my lip, I grin. "I don't have to piss, but…" I yank my pants down, bend down, and take a healthy shit on my sperm donor's grave. Hensley laughs so hard she snorts. When she finally gets control, she hands me some leaves so I can wipe. You have to be careful now with what you wipe with; can't just pick up any old thing.

Still giggling, Hensley and I walk back to where the bike is parked. It looks like a small group is wandering in the cemetery. I don't know if they heard us or if it is just sheer dumb luck, but they look at us like we are the last supper. I glance back at my sister, who’s already holding her bat.

Yeah, even if I wanted to try and drive around them, Hensley likes the thrill of the kill too much, so here we go.

The group is smaller than we think. Three adults and they have a bundle of something wrapped in a blanket. It has a fur wrap so I think it may be a dead dog.

Between our bats and my sister's bowie knife, we make short order of them. We are walking back to the bike when we hear it. Again, I assume it is a dead animal. The one holding the package dropped it. It didn't move, so I never gave it another thought.

Now we hear awahhhhnearby and Hensley’s curiosity is piqued.

"What is that?" She looks at me.

"I don't know Hens, but whatever it is, we need to go." Of course, I was talking to the air. She was already checking it out.

Before I make it to the source of the noise, Hensley viciously beats the blanket with her bat. She uses the end of the wood to move the blanket around, nods her head, looks satisfied, then walks back to me. "Let's go."

"For fucks sake. You going to tell me what you just mutilated?"

"A baby." She shrugs then climbs on the bike like it's every day she beats an infant to death.

Because I'm not sure what to say, I didn’t know babies could get infected, I climb on, start the engine, then I try to rationalize how Hensley can hum like she’s doing right now after that brutality, and how I’m totally okay with it.

In life we are all broken; it just depends on if we choose to rise up from it or let ourselves burn in the ashes. Hensley and I choose to be a fucking Phoenix. God help any motherfucker who stands in our way.

CHAPTER10

HENSLEY

It was an act of mercy.

I very well couldn’t have left the damned thing to gurgle and go mad from hunger without knowing how to hunt.

Survival wasn’t meant for the baby, so I became the angel of mercy. The diseased rabble that haunts these streets won’t eat the dead, so I know the baby will be lost to time and memory without having to suffer.

Besides, maybe if someone had extended the same courtesy to Tieran and me when we were younger, they wouldn’t have had to deal with the ramifications of our own ravenous hunger.

Ours, however, is to survive each and every day. To love each other more and more deeply and perhaps in the not-so-distant future, we can show that fucking sow that the monsters she made not only survived her atrocities.

But the ones that the world has been forming against us, too.

“Where to now?” I ask Tieran as he drives at a reasonable speed this time. I think he enjoys having me pressed so tightly against him, and maybe he’s even tired of me screaming in his ear to be heard. Either way, we’re making good time and recompense is on the horizon.


Tags: Yolanda Olson Erotic
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