NANCY

[dvnttourist]

NANCY

Her name was Nancy. I don’t think I ever knew his real name but everyone called him Bear. They were my neighbors and rented the downstairs half of a house where I rented the top two floors. As far as neighbors go, I guess I could have done a lot worse.

Nancy and Bear liked to party and seldom did the sound of drunken revelry not reverberate through the old house until three or four in the morning. They always tried to be nice about it though. They always invited me, and usually it was Nancy who delivered the invitation in person; a visit I never tired of.

But I was never much of a drinker. I wasn’t opposed to a drink now and then, but I never really liked the way it made me feel and I particularly hated the way I always felt the next day. Add to this my disdain for crowds and loud, obnoxious drunks and one can understand how it was that party- going was just never on my list of favorite things to do.

In addition to my natural aversion for loud, alcohol-induced celebrations, I was working hard on my future. During the day I was attending college full time on Uncle Sam’s dime, and in the evenings, I worked at a topless joint downtown called The Back Bar where I bounced and did odd jobs to augment my meager savings. Seldom was I home before two in the morning and most nights I didn’t get to sleep before four. Most mornings I was up by seven so on the average I was getting three to four hours sleep a night and on nights when the party ran long, I could cut that in half.

As Nancy and Bear lived in the house long before I moved in, I felt kind of uncomfortable asking them to tone down the parties. After all, seniority should have its privileges.

A single driveway led to the two-car garage in the back that we shared. There was a small yard back there with two old cars, a Chevelle and a Nova, that filled the space, making that part of the property officially Bear’s. In addition to the two classic wrecks, Bear had an old Dodge truck that he used for every day driving and this usually sat in the driveway. His side of the garage was packed with junk.

I didn’t mind that much either, though. I didn’t need a whole lot of space; all I really wanted was a roof over my head and a place to store my Harley. In those days, everything I owned fit into a sea-bag and the bag, in turn, fit on the back of the bike. Quick get-aways were my specialty and I recently found myself employing that talent to my advantage. My only other vehicle was a beat-up Datsun 510 station wagon I bought from a buddy in Michigan for five-hundred dollars and used mostly in uncooperative weather.

Other than the garage, there were two additional benefits to living in this shared dwelling. The first was the rent; at two-hundred and fifty bucks a month, with utilities included, I couldn’t expect to find a cheaper place anywhere in the city. The second benefit was Nancy.

She was young, maybe twenty years old; with thick, sandy-blond hair that fell around an angelic face and down and over her shoulders to just a little below the halfway point of her back. Often, her hair was tied back into a pony tail that bounced perkily as she walked. Her face was a curious blend of innocence, orneriness, and eroticism, and she was equally aplomb at displaying one, or any combination thereof, with a smile or the curve of her brow. She had high cheek bones and a set of the most expressive, brown eyes I had ever seen. I swore that, at times, when she looked at me through those mysterious orbs, she could divine every lustful thought that my imagination and heart harbored for her. Her button nose was dotted with freckles and when her full lips spread wide into a genuine smile her face lit with the warmth and radiance of a fire on a cold winter’s night.

It was certainly true that Nancy’s features were stunning but her body was the stuff of young men’s dreams. Her breasts were a large “C” cup or maybe a small “D.” It was not uncommon for her to run around in bikini tops or halters. She was proud of those breasts and took every opportunity she could to expose as much cleavage as decorum would permit to anyone of the male gender. Her hips were narrow and her ass firm and round but as narrow as her hips were, her waist and belly were smaller. One could see the muscles in her belly when she turned a certain way and so small was her waist that I could have laid my hand completely across it length-wise. Like her breasts, her midriff was also a point of pride and seldom during the summer months would she wear anything that would dare obstruct the view of that cute belly.

My young, attractive neighbor made a habit of tanning in the front yard in a tiny bikini and I often made habit of jacking off to her as I watched her from my bedroom window.

I remember quite well, and to this very day, the moment I knew that I wanted her…that I had to have her. It was well after two in the morning when I pulled up to the house. There was just enough room between the cars and the house for me to thread my bike back and get it into the garage. Music was blaring and the sounds of revelry filled the inner-city street and echoed into the night sky more than usual. I made my way back around to the front of the house and there I found the cause of the exceptionally raucous merry-making. On the front porch, four or five girls were all dancing in a most seductive rhythm to Michael Stanley’s, Lover, much to the delight of the onlookers; male and female alike. The song and the music weren’t really made for dancing to but no one seemed to mind. As I came around the front of the porch and started to pass by, keeping my eyes averted and just trying to get to the steps on the other side of the house that led to my apartment, I heard someone call my name.

Turning my head and looking up, I found myself gazing right into those flirtatious, brown eyes and they were looking right back at me. There she stood, smiling at me and dancing seductively to the sound of the music on the top step of the porch. She was wearing a light-blue tube top with her midriff nude all the way down to a wrap-around skirt of a material that clung low and sultry on her hips and moved, almost ghost-like, with the swaying of her body. The skirt had a slit from her ankles to just where the thigh meets the hip and she wasn’t at all bashful about letting her nicely tanned leg slide from out of the material. Beneath the skirt, her feet were bare. Her hair was loose and disheveled and flowed in time with the movement of the skirt and the tempo of the music.

I had been watching beautiful, naked women dance all night, but not one of them captivated me nearly so much as Nancy in that moment. Her arms were raised above her head as she swayed, almost obscenely, to the music. From her elevated stage, her eyes looked down on me and I could not decide if they invited, or just teased. Her lips pursed a little as if beckoning me to kiss them. For a moment, for the briefest of time, no more than just a few heartbeats, I no longer heard the din of the revelry. There was no longer anyone else there; just me and Nancy, and her dancing for my pleasure alone.

She closed her eyes and let her hips sway a little more freely as she raised her hands higher into the air allowing her breasts to rock and move with her body beneath the single span of fabric. Slowly she turned her body so that I might better enjoy the roundness of her ass. Dropping her arms as she deliberately and provocatively spun her body, she ran her hands seductively over her breasts then down to her naked, undulating belly, over her gyrating hips, until finally completing her three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn. Sliding her hands down to her pussy, her eyes opened, fully fixed on me, and she smiled.

“Hey man…you want a beer?” Bear’s deep gruff voice brought me out of my stupor.

“No thanks Bear.” I replied as calmly as I might under the circumstances.

My gaze had shifted to Bear, standing tall and menacing, a little to the right of Nancy. I had not even seen him approach. Nancy just continued dancing. Despite the friendly invitation there was no friendliness in Bear’s countenance. He had caught me dead to rights admiring his woman in a most covetous and probably disrespectful manner. Thirty guys standing there gawking and hooting and cat- calling at his woman and he’s pissed off at me.
This stupid b*tch is going to get me fuckin’ killed, I thought to myself.

In my mind, Bear and Nancy never seemed to fit together. She was clean and fresh and wholesome and lovely, like the first rays of morning sun lightly caressing a dew-drenched flower on a spring morning. He was big and rough and loud and always had a look of being dirty about him. He was older too; maybe in his mid to late thirties. I always thought Nancy way out of his league but I am a poor judge of the chemistry, magic, or witchcraft that draws people together.

I looked back over at Nancy and purposely let my eyes wander over her body as she danced.

“Thanks anyways…” I looked back over at Bear. Raising my hand in a gesture of goodbye, I turned and made my way to my apartment.

I decided that I didn’t like Bear.

A week passed, and then another. Life in the big house went on much as it had for the past three months since I had moved in but now a change had come over me. More and more, the late-night parties were starting to annoy me and wear on my nerves. I had grown tired of the broken-down cars in the back yard and I was really getting pissed off at Bear’s constantly leaving that old piece of shit truck parked so as to block the drive way.
In addition, I found myself growing increasingly angrier by the day at Nancy. Every time she walked around outside half-dressed, I got angry. When she sunned herself in her little bikini, I grew agitated. Every time she smiled or spoke or looked at me, I was almost immediately put into a foul mood.

Little fucking cock tease, were the words that bubbled up into my mind every time I saw her.

I would like to say that my growing agitation and animosity towards my neighbors was the result of being in one place for too long; but I knew that wasn’t true.

At school the summer session was coming to a close. There were exams to prepare for and a term-paper to complete. At the bar I had been working seven nights a week trying to put a little buffer between me and poverty. Add to this that the parties seemed to get louder and longer with each successive day, as if the solstice should bring an end to their celebrations and they, not wishing to waste a single opportunity for drunkenness, should partake all the more vehemently.

I had been burning the candle at both ends for way too long and now, on top of everything else, I had fallen into a most troublesome infatuation with Nancy. The harder I tried to ignore and avoid her the more she found ways to prance around in front of me in even less clothing than she usually wore, if such were possible. Her sunbathing had taken on a ritualistic schedule that put her seminude body before my eyes almost every time I left my apartment. She seemed wholly disposed to flirt and tease me and flaunt her body in front of me to the point of driving sanity and restraint from my senses. Every time I saw her there was within me a curious mixture of excitement and frustration. I was obsessed with a woman I could not have…should not have.

It was early as I made my way back to the garage. The sun was already warm and bright but barely lifted from the horizon in the clear August sky. It promised to be one of those hot, sultry days that August is so well known for. With the sun shining and the full weight of its heat not yet pressing in on me I should have been in a better mood than I was.

As I made my way around the front of the house and down the drive into the back yard, I immediately saw Bear’s truck in the driveway parked in such a way that I would not be able to get my bike out around it.
He must have really been fucked up last night when he did that parking job, I thought to myself as I squeezed around it. Fortunately…or maybe unfortunately…I could hear Bear in the back yard working on one of his cars.
“Hey Bear; can you move your truck,” I asked politely; “I’m late and I really gotta get goin’.”

“Your shit’s gonna have ta wait,” came a rude, gruff response from under the hood of the Chevelle.
“Bear…!” I shouted angrily. “Move the fuckin’ truck!” My vision clouded to red and had become tunnel-like as I focused on the back of the big man. I was half way to him when I realized I had dropped my pack and was advancing on him with clenched fists.

Bear turned from under the hood of the car with a torque wrench in his right hand. I didn’t know if the surprised look on his face was because he had been spoken to in such a manner or because I was coming head-on at him with clear intent. Truth be told, at that moment I did not give a shit what he was thinking.
Now Bear wasn’t called Bear because he was cute and cuddly. In my socks I stood a shade shy of six feet. Bear was easily four inches taller and carried at least sixty pounds on me. He was a big, powerful man and had a reputation of being a dangerous one.

My first punch was a quick, vicious, left jab that I intended to land on his nose but missed its mark; instead landing solidly on his mouth. The punch moved Bear’s head very little but where I expected to see rage in his eyes, I saw shock and blood squirted from his top lip. By the time his rage finally boiled up inside him enough to inspire him to action, it was too late.

In his right hand he still held the wrench but had not yet swung it and I had no intention of allowing him the opportunity. Before he could bring his rage and weapon to bear against me, I stepped in with a savage right hook to his head. As I was advancing and his head was snapping back from my jab, my hook caught my opponent solidly on the ear. He groaned and I felt his knees give a little. From somewhere in the back of my head I heard a clanging sound and realized Bear had dropped the wrench.

I was in close, too close, and from here it would be no difficult task for the larger, stronger man to get his arms around me but I had no intention of backing off from my attack. That Bear was big and powerful was true enough but he had been living soft on a too old reputation and relying on his size to intimidate would-be adversaries.

And I…well, I was a year out of the Marine Corps and itching for a fight…and I was not intimidated.
I landed a second right hook in the same place as the last and I grunted loudly, hit hard, and followed through with all the power my rage could muster. I felt something click in his ear.

My third punch grazed off the top of his head as Bear was already toppling heavily over; groaning like some great, old oak felled by the woodsman’s ax.

His body hit the concrete driveway with a sickening thud. I had hurt my enemy but I did not know if he was defeated. This mattered not at all to me as I was thoroughly engulfed in my blood-rage; reveling in my enemy’s pain and humiliation.

With both hands I reached down and took hold of Bear’s long, greasy hair. He was trying to support his weight on an outstretched arm and get his legs back underneath him. I jerked his head forward as I smashed a knee into his face. I felt the bone and cartilage of his nose crunch as my knee struck true. I followed with another knee, then another. With every connection I could feel bone grind, crack, and splinter. He went limp in my hands.
It was not by sight or sound that I knew someone was behind me but rather by some sixth sense; some innate consciousness that warns the predator he is being stalked.

Letting Bear’s limp body slump to the ground, I turned. There, standing in front of me, was Nancy. She was wearing a pair of Daisy Duke shorts and a red and white, candy-striped bikini top that might have been a touch too small for her breasts. But it was not her clothes that captured my attention.

Her usually tan and smiling face was now turned pale and pulled tight against the terror in her expression. If I had ever wondered what the expression in the eyes of the gazelle might be just before the tiger pounces, from that moment forward, I wondered no more. Her eyes were wide with fear and apprehension and I felt my heart beat heavy in my chest and my brow grow unusually warm at the sight. For the first time since I started my attack on Bear, I felt my adrenaline rise as reason and thought succumbed to animal desire.

She should have run; she should have screamed; she should have fought; instead, she stood there, frozen with terror.

In two quick steps I closed the distance between us.

“SMACK!” The palm of my hand stung smartly as I slapped the frozen young woman across her mouth. The force of the blow spun her around and sent her sprawling over the left, front quarter-panel of Bear’s truck.
Another two steps and I was on her. Taking her by the arm I spun her around to face me like a rag doll. I slapped her again, for no other reason than to let her know who was in charge. I was in charge and no longer did she have any say in her destiny. No longer would she control me with those looks, those eyes, that body.

“Please don’t hurt me!” she cried as I spun her back around to face me, her hands coming up in front of her, palms extended, to offer feeble resistance. A little trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. Those eyes which had gazed upon me so often with flirtatious laughter now stared, horrified at her attacker.

My left hand held Nancy, at the throat, bent backwards over the truck fender, not hard enough to choke her, but with just enough firmness to control my little gazelle. With my right hand I reached out and slid my hand between a meaty breast and the cup of the bikini. I let my fingers linger a moment as I could feel her nipple on the back of my hand. Viciously I jerked at the top. On the first tug it held, although I heard threads snapping. A second jerk and the back strap snapped and broke free. My third yank and the string around her neck that held the top up and in place let go its hold as the garment was torn from her body.

She let out a mouse-like squeal of pain…or maybe objection… as her tits bounced, finally exposed. As I had envisioned, her breasts were magnificent as the large cantaloupe sized bags of meat heaved and shuddered with the violence of their forced liberation.

I found myself possessed of the most splendid passions of conquest, violence, and lust. I could not have stopped myself even if I had wanted to…and…heaven forbid…I did not want to.

Nancy pressed her hands to my chest in a vain attempt to push me away. The cleavage of her breasts was white against the tan of the rest of her body. With my free hand I slapped her tit, hard; first once, and then again, even harder. Taking the flesh in my hand I squeezed and twisted.

Nancy let out a sobbing scream of pain and objection as she drew her hands back in an effort to cover and protect the tender mounds. She tried to turn away but her struggles were futile and only served to excite me the more.

She was crying now…sobbing…begging me to stop…pleading with me that if I would stop now, she wouldn’t tell anyone.

“Please, please, please…” she begged.

The more she begged, the more she pleaded, the more she cried, and the more she bargained…the more implacable my lust became.

With her hands she desperately tried to cover her naked breasts and as her arms wrapped around the mounds of seductive flesh my hand dropped to the snap on her shorts. A single, violent pull at the fastener was all it took as the button popped and a loud ripping sound split the sounds of her sobs. The force of my tearing at her shorts lifted her feet from the ground, my grip at her upper chest and throat the only support that kept her from falling to the concrete below.

Again, I pulled viciously at the material of the denim. The shorts began to rip and give way to my violence. She raised a knee in an effort to fend me off, or maybe in a vain attempt to preserve what rags remained covering her hips and c*nt.

Releasing my grip on her throat I reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair. I forced her around and bent her, face down, over the quarter-panel. The torn shorts still clung loosely to her tight, round, little ass. Roughly, I grabbed them by the waist band and pulled the shredded material down below her knees.

“Augghhh…nooo!” Nancy protested in vain.

One of her hands clutched at my hand entangled in her hair while the other tried desperately to hold on to the daisy-dukes.

White cotton with a pink floral design. Her panties looked almost too innocent to be worn by the woman I had lusted for all these past months. They were the only remnant of fabric remaining that separated her ass from my cock.

Have you ever heard the sound of cotton panties being torn from a woman’s body? Have you ever delighted in the helplessness of a victim completely under your control? Have you ever reveled in her cries and pleas and remonstrance’s and cared no more for her than if she were a prime piece of beef ready to be devoured by your own insatiable appetite? Have you ever felt your cock harden as your prey struggled against it? I have; and I can assure you…it is a most invigorating experience. Nothing makes a man feel so much alive as conquest.

After my struggles with the bikini top and the shorts, the panties surrendered easily to my adrenaline-fueled frenzy. They made the most delightful ripping sound as I separated the last vestiges of dignity from Nancy’s now nude body.

Her ass was the same virgin-white skin as her breasts.

By the hair I pulled her off the truck and onto her feet. She was completely naked now except for a single flip-flop that clung to her right foot and the remnants of the shorts, unintentionally but effectively binding her ankles. The other sandal had been dislodged during the struggles.

Like guiding a horse by its mane, with my hand entangled in her hair, I turned her to face Bear. Somehow, she managed to slip her unshod foot out of the shorts making her turn not so perilous. There seemed little fight left in her, but now, naked and shamed, she used her hands to try to conceal her most private and attractive attributes.

“P…p…please…” she whimpered in a most piteous sounding voice.

I was tired of hearing her cry and beg. Reaching up, I pinched her nose tightly. As her mouth involuntarily opened to gasp for air, I shoved the cotton rag that used to be her panties deep into her mouth. Her hands went from her body as she reached up to free herself from the makeshift gag.

“Leave it, c*nt!” I warned with a shake of her head by the hair.

Her hands stopped in front of her mouth, uncertain what to do. They were trembling. As if surrendering, she dropped her arms impotently to her sides. Then, remembering her nakedness, she brought her hands back up in an effort to cover her exposed parts.

By the hair I walked her over to where Bear lay. Kicking his boot to bring him out of his stupor I pushed Nancy out in front of me so he could see what I had. I wanted him to see…and to know…that what was once his was now mine.

He pushed himself up, still dazed, and leaned his back against the bumper of the Chevelle. His left eye was horribly swollen and there was a wicked gash across the bridge of his nose. Blood covered his face from his nose and mouth and a generous trickle of the dark substance flowed from his ear, the product of a busted ear-drum. The blood was starting to coagulate and dry but his face, beard, and t-shirt were painted red and brown with the gore. I could smell the blood. Above the smells of engine grease and Nancy, the smell of blood filtered into my nostrils and I breathed deep that I might better experience the rush of my conquest. I had fucked him up pretty good and I was quite proud of my work.

With his one good eye he looked up to see Nancy’s nude and writhing body held out before him. She in turn, avoiding any eye contact, stood bent over, clutching desperately at her own naked body parts, her knee raised and leg turned inward trying to afford her exposed c*nt more protection. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground. For all the world she appeared the picture of perfect humiliation.

Once I was certain that Bear understood what he was looking at, I reached over him and took a half-full can of STP engine oil from inside the engine compartment. Stepping back, not releasing my grip on his woman’s hair and her letting out a squeal through the panties at the pain, I glared down menacingly at my broken foe. It was hard for me not to smile.

“Watch,” was the only word I spoke to him.

Half pulling, half dragging the helpless girl back to the truck, I bent her, face down over the hood. Instinctively realizing what was about to take place her struggles were renewed as she used her hands against the surface of the truck to try to raise herself up and out of her vulnerable posture. I pushed her head harder onto the metal surface and turned her so that she might watch her man’s features as I ****d her.

“No…” came a muffled objection through the gag.

Her ass was a masterpiece. Small, round, and white, it looked so innocent and unviolated. That pure little bum was just begging to be ravaged.

I poured the motor oil down the crack of her ass and over each cheek until the can was empty.

“No…no…no…” her objections continued as her tongue worked to free her mouth of the material.

Letting the empty can fall to the ground, I began to smear the thick black liquid all around on her ass cheeks, hips, and thighs; taking special care down the crack of her ass and then down to her c*nt.

Again, the helpless girl started to cry; almost to the point of sobbing. She struggled a little but her resistance had faded with exhaustion. I should say, she struggled little until I stuck a finger into her vagina.

By the aid of the motor oil my finger slipped easily in…and then a second. A muffled groan escaped her. But it wasn’t until I shoved my thumb into her asshole that her struggles were reanimated with renewed vigor. Again, she tried to push herself up off the hood of the truck to no avail. Again, she fell back, helpless and sobbing.
“No…please…let me go. Please don’t do this to me,” she sobbed, the gag hanging from her mouth but not yet quite fully extricated.

Unless I missed my guess; Nancy’s sweet, little, honey pot had never been defiled. I slapped her right ass cheek hard and felt oil spatter onto my face. I don’t know which I enjoyed more; the sound of my hand against her ass or the sharp squeal that escaped her with every swat as she fell into uncontrollable sobs.

SMACK! I slapped the ass cheek again, reveling in her pain and helplessness.

Stepping a little closer I unbuckled my belt, unfastened and unzipped my jeans, and let them slide down to my knees. Pulling my boxers down, my cock stood at attention; hard, erect, and wanting satisfaction.

I looked over at Bear as I slid my erection between her two oil-painted ass cheeks and began rubbing it up and down, making sure to wet it well with the black liquid, preparing it for Nancy’s delicious violation. Bear’s expression was not what I thought it would be. He was smiling a wide, evil grin; his yellow teeth smeared with his own blood. He looked almost demonic in his countenance. His eyes shifted from me to Nancy with an almost exuberant expectancy. He was, I believed, enjoying this.

Nancy was weeping softly, her arms pulled tight into her body, one foot raised as if in a final defense of the citadel soon to be breached. Turning back to her, I finally released my tangled grip from her hair and moved my hand down to her shoulder. With my right hand I began to stroke my grease- covered cock. I could hear my heart beating in my ears and feel it pounding in my forehead. Time ceased and nothing existed outside of me, her, my hard prick, and her quivering, oil-smeared ass. I moved the tip of my dick forward, touching it to the brim of her hole, puckering and contracting with fear.

When the tip of my cock touched at her Alter of Sodom, Nancy tried to stand up. The panties that had served so admirably as a temporary gag were spit free from her mouth as if I had applied Heimlich to a choking body.

With new found vigor, her struggles were renewed as her verbal protestations were reemphasized.

“No…God please…Please don’t…Please not that…” The more she begged, the more excited I became. With every whimper, my cock grew harder. Her pleas faded back to impotent sobs as the tip of my prick penetrated a little further into the virgin orifice. I felt her body tighten, stealing herself for what was to come. One of her hands reached back and pressed futilely at my thigh, trying to push me away.

Reaching up with the hand I had been using to stroke and guide my cock, I pushed Nancy’s head down onto the hood of the truck and turning it to the side to face Bear. I wanted him to watch the expression on his woman’s face as I violated her. The idea that I was about to fuck her in a hole Bear had never stuck his filthy cock in just made the adventure all the more exciting and both of their humiliations that much more delightful.

With my cock poised to penetrate I pushed forward a little further, widening her hole by a c*nt hair’s width. Leaning in, I placed my lips as close to her ear as I could manage without ramming the rod into the tight opening.
“Never been sodomized before, heh, Nancy?” I was looking at Bear as I spoke and I made sure that he heard and understood my words. The smile faded from his face.

“Don’t…AAAUUUGH…!” She let out a most piteous scream as I buried my shaft, hilt deep into her tight, unexplored anal cavity.

With the same violence I had delivered upon Bear, I now turned to Nancy’s pretty, young ass. Her scream faded into a pain induced grunt every time I plunged my excited cock into her canal. Harder and harder I pumped, trying to get myself deeper and deeper with each thrust. My hips made a delightful sound as they smacked against Nancy’s buttocks. Her cheeks rippled in response to each violent plunge.

Faster and faster…harder and harder. Finally, my stiff rod could go no deeper. I pushed my victim’s hips hard into the grill of the truck trying to gain more leverage and a hair’s width more depth into her rectum. Her feet were both off the ground, legs spread wide, bare feet dangling off the bumper. In my excitement, I had retaken a handful of Nancy’s hair and pulled her head back to an impossible angle so that she was looking at her own horrified reflection through the front windshield of the truck. A gurgled protest escaped her throat.

Epileptic flashes spasmed through my brain as I relieved months of pent-up desire, frustration, and anger deep into her bowels. I thrust again, and then again; harder and harder; faster and faster; deeper and deeper; until, at last, my exertions reached their most fevered desire. I felt the explosion of semen. Another thrust, deeper still, my body raised, my back arched forcing the shaft still deeper, my face turned skyward, my eyes closed in wonderful ecstasy, my fingers tearing into the nude flesh of Nancy’s hips: more cum; another violent thrust…and more cum.

Finally, there was no more. My heart was pounding, my mouth dry. I was covered in sweat and motor oil and my breath was coming in great gasps. No longer did the sweet, erotic scent of Nancy’s perfume waft upon the air. Now, the putrid stench of shit filled my nostrils.

I withdrew my shrinking cock from the ravaged and bleeding orifice and let my victim’s broken body slip to the ground. Curling herself into a fetal position, she lay in a spent heap covered in motor oil, shit, and blood.

I looked over at Bear. His hand was down his pants stroking his own cock. He was no longer looking at me but jerking off to Nancy’s nude and broken body.

What a disgusting piece of shit; I thought to myself.

I pulled my underwear and jeans back on and fastened them. Turning, I walked away, back towards the stairway to my apartment. It looked like I wasn’t going to make class.

****

That night there was no party, nor the next night, nor the next. Despite the quiet around the house, I still got no sleep. My every waking moment was consumed with thoughts of prison. I expected at any moment to hear the knock on my door of the local police department arriving to arrest me. Visions of being cuffed, walked down the stairs, and carted off to jail haunted me. A great deal of time and energy had been expended in planning on what I would do when they came. I had narrowed my prospects down to three options; one foolish, two workable.

The first, the foolish option, was to just gun it out with the cops when they showed up: Going out in a blaze of glory like John Dillinger or William Bonnie seemed an infinitely better option than going to prison.

The second option and probably the best was to re-enlist back into the Marines. Once I got back to Lejeune, I could hook up with the first unit deploying overseas and disappear.

The third, the one I settled on, was simply to leave. Get on my bike, roll back the throttle, and not stop till I was in Mexico or Canada. It had not been so long ago since I had left Detroit in front of potential trouble and more recently, Florida. I had not been out of the corps for two years and already I had lived in three cities, creating just enough trouble in each that it was prudent for me to get out. Not really the life I was planning when I left the Corps.

It was on the fourth night after the attack that a knock came at my door. I palmed my .45 and went to answer the knock with the pistol held, concealed, behind my back.

It was Nancy. I opened the door and there she stood, the only thing separating us was the screen door.

“May I come in?” she asked timidly.

“Please…” I invited as I opened the door, stepping to the side to allow her to step in. Sticking my head out the door I looked to the left, down the stairs, to make sure no police stood by waiting to rush in.

She was wearing a pair of jeans and a plain, white t-shirt with no bra. As usual, she was barefoot. There was a mark on the right side of her neck from where the bikini string had burned her when I ripped it off. The left side of her face looked a little swollen and had some pinkishness to it. All in all, she looked good…really good.

I stuffed the pistol down the back of my waist band as she stepped into my kitchen and turned to face me.

“Bear wants to know if you want to come down tonight and…you know…” she shrugged as if not knowing the words or how to proceed; “…he wants to watch…” Her eyes refused to meet mine as she gazed meekly at the floor.

I had imagined that if Nancy was ever in my presence again it would be to stick a knife in my chest or a bullet in my head. That I would ever be invited to share in some kind of deviant sexual thing between Nancy and Bear would have been the last thought on my mind. I stood dumbfounded for a moment trying to process what she had just said.

The thought of being with Nancy felt good; I wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to hear her laugh. I wanted to feel she had forgiven me for what I had done.

The thought of Bear sitting, bloody and beaten on the ground, jacking off while his woman lay violated and broken, was repugnant to me. As much as I wanted to be with her was multiplied tenfold in my desire to have nothing to do with him.

“And you…” I asked softly, “…what do you want?”

She looked up from the floor and looked me in the face for the first time. A weak smile crept across her lips. “I’d like you to come downstairs too.”

Suddenly, a vision of Bear hiding downstairs with five or six of his buddies, all wielding baseball bats flooded into my imagination.

I smiled back; “I don’t think so, Nancy.”

She looked at me rather coyly, her hands folded primly in front of her; “We could stay here tonight…just you and me.”

“I’m leaving, Nancy.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“When...?” I thought I saw a wisp of sadness in her face; as if perhaps she wanted me not to go.

“Tomorrow… maybe the next day…” I suddenly wanted to be away from here as quickly as my bike would carry me.

She looked at me thoughtfully, nodding her head a little as if wondering… She walked towards the door. Coming abreast of me, she put her hand on my forearm, stood to her tiptoes, and kissed my cheek. Without another word she was gone.

Two days later I was strapping my gear onto my bike. Nancy stood by, watching with sad eyes, and holding a cup of coffee that had grown cold. I had no idea where Bear was but his truck had been gone when I came down from my apartment. I didn’t really care where he was and I didn’t bother to ask.

I finished securing my pack and sleeping-bag to the back of the big bike and walked over to Nancy.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. I guess it was a good thing I saw you out of the window,” she said with a somewhat forced smile on her lips.

I looked at her for a long moment; wanting to kiss her but thinking the better of it.

“Come with me,” I blurted out, my mouth speaking before my brain could realize what it was saying.

She bit her lower lip and looked at me through those big, brown eyes, her head cocked a little to one side, as if considering.

“If you had stopped when you beat Bear down, I would have gone anywhere with you.” She paused. “Everything you did to me, I wanted you to do…right up until the moment you did it.

“I don’t blame you for any of this. But we can never be now what we might have been.” She took hold of my hand and her expression changed to something akin to sympathy…or maybe pity.

Reaching into my back pocket I pulled out an envelope. “Here…it’s the keys to the Datsun. The title’s been signed over into your name. There’s a little cash in there too…to help you get out of town…if you want to.”

She looked up at me, confusion furrowing her brow. “I…I can’t take this…it’s…”

“I can’t use it anymore. Besides, you can’t stay here with Bear.”

Timorously her trembling fingers reached out and took the envelope. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, she threw her arms around my neck and we held each other for what seemed a long time. I thought I tasted a little salt on her cheek when I bent down to kiss her. I pushed her gently away. She was crying. I couldn’t ever remember anyone crying because I was leaving. It kind of choked up in my throat a little.

Nancy was still standing there watching me when I mounted my bike, kicked back the kick-stand, and fired the engine.

A better man would have stayed. Any man in his right mind would have fought to win that woman’s heart.

I kicked the Harley into gear and rolled back the throttle. At the end of the driveway I paused, then turned left.

****

About a year and a half later, I had occasion to find myself back in that city. I was sitting at the bar drinking a beer with an old friend.

“Hey…do you remember that chick that used to live below you over in that house off Broadway?”

“Yeah…Nancy…” I feigned disinterest.

“Her and my wife keep in touch. ‘Bout a year ago she hooked up with some dude that drives a truck and split for New Mexico with him.” He took a swallow of beer. “Man, I guess they’re married now. She’s got a kid and I hear she’s real happy.”

I fought down that damn lump in my throat with a long swallow of beer.

“What ever happened to her old man?” I asked returning an empty bottle to the bar.

“What…Bear…?” He asked as if surprised that I would ask. “Dude’s over in the projects, shootin’ smack into his veins. Man, somebody fucked that dude up in a bad way!” He emptied his own beer. “Everybody says that it was Nancy what broke his heart and did this to him but I know better…”

I looked over at my friend suspiciously.

“…I seen him, Dude, and somebody fucked him up good. One day I see him and he’s just Bear; same old loud, tough, mean son-of-a-b*tch I always knew. A couple days later I see him and he looks like someone took a brick to his head…I mean that dude was fuuucked up!” He paused looking down at his empty beer bottle; “But it wasn’t just an ass beating he took…whoever laid that shit on him stole his soul…man…I mean took the manhood right out of him.”

“Huh…you don’t say,” I replied indifferently. “Barkeep…two more, please.”

I smiled, suddenly in a very good mood.