Liz

Copyright 2006 by IR Associates

Liz

She'd no sooner opened the door to her apartment then a knife was held to her throat.

"Don't scream."

When the pressure on her throat was eased, she asked, "What do you want? We don't have much money."

"I don't want money." She felt the prick of the knife now in her lower back. "Walk forward slowly. Slowly! One step at a time. Now turn around."

When she turned around, the glare from the side window was in her eyes, and the figure at the front door was hidden in shadow.

"Take off your clothes."

Her hand clutched at her throat in response, then stopped, frozen.

The man made a threatening gesture. "Unbutton your blouse."

This time, she hastened to comply, fumbling with the buttons till finally the blouse opened exposing her bra and her bare midriff.

"I see you use a front loader." He chuckled. "Now, unsnap it."

She unsnapped her bra and her breasts fell free. A natural C, her breasts looked smaller perhaps because her nipples were so large. "Now, turn around."

She felt mildly irritated; didn't he like her bosoms? Most men did. Her husband was crazy about them. She turned as directed; then his arms were around her, a breast in each of his hands, his fingers playing with her nipples, barely grazing them, then stroking, then a mere whisper of a touch.

Her mind remembered a half-completed Karate lesson, strike down along his leg with the heel, then smash his instep, but he had the knife and besides, she felt limp all over. Her first orgasm had come this same way, by herself in the bathtub, her fingers grazing her nipples, stroking them just as he was doing now.

When he unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall to the floor, she made no attempt to resist.

The room was so silent; the only sound her rapid breathing.

He removed his fingers. "No," she said, unable to contain herself, startled by the sound of her own voice.

His hand pressed down on her back, and she bent forward; his penis entered her vagina at the same time and she came instantly. Then he was working it back and forth inside her as if he had all the time in the world. Each stroke brought her closer and closer to a second climax.

"Fuck me, fuck me," she shouted as if he needed encouragement. The strokes grew wilder. Once he slipped out and she reached down and thrust him back in again. When she came for the third time, he came too wet and sticky.

The hands came down from her breasts, one to her vagina where the heel of his palm just barely grazed her clitoris, and one to slip her panties down over her firm buttocks.

The hand at her vagina was replaced by a finger, then two fingers, then three, making only light touches, each time opening her wider and wider. The other hand was at her breast again.

"Don't turn around," he warned.

"I've got to sit down."

Still behind her, his hand on her breast, he guided her to a kitchen chair. When she sat down exhausted, he remained behind the chair until he had tied a dishtowel around her eyes as if they were about to play a game of blind man's buff.

The refrigerator door opened, then closed. He obviously had found something he liked because she could hear the sound of chewing, followed by the sound of a liquid being poured into a glass. She started when she suddenly felt a drop of moisture on her nipple; his mouth followed. "Milk from the source," he said.

"We haven't had a child yet," she mumbled as if this were somehow important. First one nipple, than the other received his attention and she was halfway to a second, no a third orgasm. Unconsciously, she reached down and cradled his head in her hands as if he were her husband and lover rather than some dreadful man who had broken into their apartment. When he eased her up out of the chair and sat down on it himself, she spread her legs immediately at his touch and sat down on his lap facing him. Their hands met as they both tried to guide him quickly inside her.

He had taken her nipple into his mouth again, through there was no milk this time unless his previous efforts had somehow stimulated production. She braced herself, hands on his shoulders and began to move slowly up and down, seeking to find just the right angle, just the right rhythm.

"You're doing all the work," he said, releasing her nipple for the moment. She had no breath with which to reply. She was so close to coming and then she was convulsing, her vagina closing down around his penis, bringing him deeper into her.

"Wow," he said.

When her orgasm had subsided he began to move and to move her, the long strokes accompanied by little bites on her breasts and shoulders. Then his hips were thrusting upward out of control and once again, they came together.

He lifted her away from him finally and staggered to his feet. "I could use that dish towel," he said. "No, don't take it off."

He ran the water in the sink; he'd found something, another dishtowel probably and was wiping himself off. His fluids and hers were now dripping down her thighs. Oh well, there would be plenty of time to clean up before her husband came home.

His footsteps moved away across the carpet, pausing for an instant at the front door. "You're something else, Betty."

He must have read her name off an envelope.

"Liz, you can call me Liz." She said.

II

As Liz and her husband had been trying for months to have a baby, it was no surprise when two weeks later she found herself pregnant, to be confirmed a month later by a test kit, morning sickness, and butterfly marks on her cheeks.

The only question was whether it was her husband's baby or the rapist's.

Not wanting her husband to know what had happened that afternoon, she had cleaned up carefully, taken a shower, and then inspected herself in the mirror. Finding tiny bite marks on her breasts that might or might not turn into hickeys the next day, she made sure that when her husband came home that evening she was wearing only the skimpiest of clothing.

Once undressed, she insisted that he bite her breasts and suck her tits before she would let him inside her. She tried to get him to go down on her but, as always, he was reluctant. At any rate, any evidence of the intruder's presence was covered up by the next day.

Life went by without further incident, until several weeks into her second trimester, when one of the other tenants in their building had the bright idea of holding a building-wide party.

The idea was a success, the majority of the party goers motivated as Liz's husband seemed to be by the desire to see more of some other tenant or tenants whom they had only glimpsed coming and going from the building.

The object of her husband's attentions appeared to be a skinny blond that one of the other tenants had said made her living as a model. I'd like to see him get off on her tits, Liz thought.

Abandoned by her husband, she roamed the fringes of the party hoping she might bump into someone who would hold the same fascination for her. Perhaps her pregnancy was keeping the men away

The man who stood next to her by the counter separating the living room from the kitchen, dressed in white shirt and chinos, was tall and athletic, handsome as a male model. He even smelled good.

Still, she was the one who had to start the conversation--which surprised her, she might be pregnant, but she was easily the best-looking woman there. When he replied, finally, she knew why he'd remained so quiet.

He was the rapist, had to be. She recognized the voice, and, now she came to think of it, she recognized the masculine aroma that emanated from him.

"What apartment are you in?" she asked, trying to act as if she didn't really have any hidden motivation such as calling the police the minute she got back to her apartment.

"Oh, I don't live in the building."

They were both quiet for several minutes while the party went on noisily around them. How on earth had he gotten into the building? Downstairs in the front lobby were security cameras, double locks on the doors, and a doorman on duty, at least during daylight hours.

"It's noisy in here, isn't it?" the man said.

She nodded her agreement.

"Would you like to go some place quiet?"

Again she nodded. He would probably try to take her to his building a few doors up or down the street. Once she had the address, she could work on getting the apartment number.

But instead of leading her down the stairs to the street, they took the elevator up to the top floor and then walked up the stairs to the roof.

"The door up here is locked, isn't it?" The door to the roof had been locked the one time she tried it. But the door was not locked now and in a moment they were outside in the fresh air, the lights of the city stretching off into the distance below.

"It's beautiful," she said, somewhat hesitantly. She did not like heights. Looking out to her left she saw that the next building, a duplicate of hers, was only a few feet away.

"You could jump the gap, I guess," she said.

"Or you could use that board over there to build a bridge." Which explained how he must have got into her building. Getting into her apartment would have been even easier; a credit card could do it unless she or her husband remembered to lock the dead bolt, which they seldom did.

"You're a very beautiful woman," he said.

"I'm a very pregnant woman," she replied. And a very horny one, she thought; the second trimester she'd learned was always like that--three months of ecstasy, given the right stimulus, that is. "You can eat me if you want," she offered.

He owed her one, if he was the rapist that is. Either way, she couldn't lose on the arrangement. Let her husband flirt all he wanted with the skinny model

"I'd be glad to." He led her around the back of the elevator housing, knelt on the tar, slipped her panties down as he had months earlier and went to work. He was as skilled with his tongue as with his other member and it didn't take long for her to climax. He could come inside her now if he wanted and she very much wanted him to.

The door slammed on the other side of the elevator where they'd stepped out on the roof a moment before. They could hear voices. "I'm sorry," she said as she bent down and slipped her panties back up her other leg, "I guess you'll have to wait."

"That's O.K. I owed you one."

He was the rapist! All at once she forgave him. He had given her several excellent orgasms after all. "You can come to my apartment tomorrow at three if you like. Can you make it?" He nodded that he could.

They traded places with the other couple--the man from apartment 19, the woman from 27--and walked back to the stairway. Everyone seemed to be having a good time that night and she wondered idly how her husband was doing with his skinny model. The answer, judging by the fierceness with which he attacked her when they were in bed that night, was that he'd struck out.

III

The rapist, his name was Frank he'd told her, was not in her apartment the next day at three when she returned. A half hour later, she'd just about decided he was not coming after all, when he appeared in the doorway credit card in hand.

"Sorry I'm late. Your next door neighbor was fussing about in the hallway when I got here so I had to go back upstairs."

Her next-door neighbor, an elderly woman, was indeed very nosy and she thanked him for his discretion.

"Oh, and you really ought to lock that deadbolt." She laughed.

"Shall we try the kitchen again or would you prefer the bedroom?"

They tried both the kitchen and the living room. For the time being, she decided, the bedroom would be strictly reserved for her husband. They also tried both the sitting and the from-the-rear positions.

"We won't be able to use the sitting position much longer. Pity, your breasts are so incredibly beautiful, now. Tell me," he asked, after she'd place his hand on her belly to feel the kicking infant. "Is this my child or his?"

"I don't know," she replied truthfully.

They agreed to meet again the following week, this time in a motel, to avoid all possibility of discovery. The motel was expensive, but she did not want to be seen going into his apartment building or have him be seen going into hers. The charges began to add up though.

When she realized that once a week might not be often enough for him or for her, she would walk to the park, he would pick her up there in his automobile and she would either give him a blow job or he would reward her with his agile tongue. Alas, with her protruding belly, there wasn't room for much else.

Of course, her husband still needed to be satisfied, but during her second trimester this was no problem and a twice-daily workout seemed to be just what the doctor ordered.

Occasionally, she would look rather hungrily at a well-hung delivery boy, and once, at a very attractive (and married) man on the third floor of her building, but she always restrained herself.

In the last months of her pregnancy, she wasn't able to see Frank very often, even a walk in the park could be difficult, but he still arranged to sneak into see her. With her husband also displaying a keen interest in her breasts, she hoped there would be enough milk for their child when he or she finally arrived.

Then abruptly, the baby was there and every waking hour seemed to be filled with things for the two of them to do. One day she realized she hadn't seen her lover in more than a month and had to ask herself whether she really wanted to again.

Seeing him would mean hiring a sitter. But she'd been planning to hire one anyway in order to go back to her part time job. Her husband had no objection. The girl she chose finally was an 18-year old named Katie, not too much in the breast department but with red hair, freckles, and a skin like fresh cream. Katie proved to be very good with Robert, Jr. for she was relaxed from the beginning, even though Liz was still quite nervous.

"I've taken care of all my younger brothers. Babies aren't fragile, they don't break, and you needn't worry about the bairn when he's with me."

Liz asked her once if she was planning to have bairns herself. "After a bit, perhaps. I'm saving my money and Conrad is too."

"Do you and Conrad, you know?" Liz asked her later on after a few weeks had gone by and they were close friends. Katie had recoiled in horror. "Not till we're married. If you start doing that sort of thing, you can't stop, I've been told. Conrad had me touch his thing once, through the pants. He liked it, but I knew I couldn't do it again. It wouldn't be right."

Liz wanted to hug the girl. Indeed she wanted to do more than that, but contented herself with a kiss on Katie's cheek, after which she went out the door, though she did not go shopping as she'd told Katie, but to the motel, where she did a great many things with Frank that Katie and Conrad probably hadn't even thought of doing.

She was sitting up in bed with her second husband, as she'd grown to think of him, when Frank asked her about the girl. "She's very pretty."

"Her name's Katie and she's a virgin." Liz told him, "Would you like to screw her?"

"Very much so. If you wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all, there's a thing or two I'd like to do with her myself. Now here's my plan."

IV

When Katie stepped into Liz's living room the next morning, she recoiled with horror. Liz was tied to a chair, naked, while a man stood above her holding an upraised butcher knife. He'd covered his head and face with a pair of nylon hose so that his features were all distorted.

"Help me," Liz cried.

Katie started to head from the room to get help but the man's hand was already on her shoulder. "Not so fast."

"Help me," Liz repeated. "He's going to rape me."

"Not necessarily, depends on your friend."

"What? What do you want?" Katie stammered.

"I want to see your tits."

"No," she replied weakly. No one had ever seen her small breasts apart from her mother or her mirror.

"He's got a knife," Liz said.

"Unbutton your blouse and I won't hurt you."

She turned; perhaps she could still get away. But as quickly, he turned her around again. "Will you unbutton your blouse or will I just rip the buttons off."

The lace blouse was a good one and had cost her many hours of babysitting. Slowly, unwillingly, she unfastened each of its buttons.

"Now your bra," he said as he pulled the ends of the blouse roughly from her skirt.

"Please," Liz said as if it were she who were being threatened.

Katie reached behind her back and again complied with what the man demanded. She was doubly ashamed. Not only because she stood naked in front of a man, but because her own beasts seemed so tiny compared to Liz's large beautiful ones.

The man whistled. "Just beautiful." He looked down intently at her breasts and then slowly up into Katie's eyes, "I so much want to caress them.

"But I won't," he added hastily when he saw her reaction. "Now, I want you to kneel down before your friend."

Katie turned and knelt down slowly facing Liz, the man's hands pressing on her shoulders. She wanted to look away having never been this close to another woman's private parts before, but he held her so she could not move.

"Now, you will either do what I say or I will rape this woman."

"No," Liz cried.

"What do you want me to do?" Katie smiled up at Liz so that she needn't look at what was wet and glistening before her.

"Kiss her. No, don't get up," he added when Katie started to rise. He held her back and urged her forward.

She thought, he wants me to kiss Liz's. . ."

"I want you to kiss her pussy."

"Please or he'll rape me."

"I'll rape her," the man said and Katie saw that he had unzipped his fly and was now brandishing what to her was an enormous penis.

She took a deep breath, bent forward, and gave what was meant to be a quick kiss on Liz's swollen vaginal lips. But when she tried to move away, she found her head held firmly in place.

Liz had bent down was whispering in her ear. It was Liz's hands not Frank's that held Katie's head but she wasn't to know that. "Use your tongue," Liz said.

Katie flicked out her tongue. Once when she and Conrad her fiancé were kissing he'd stuck his tongue inside her mouth. She'd stuck out her own tongue immediately before she realized how wrong that was. Now her tongue was licking the inner edges of Liz's pussy, then thrusting inside, her mouth tasting then swallowing the overflowing juices.

She felt dizzy and her arms reached out automatically for support, encircling Liz's waist. For an instant, Katie's hand reached up and caressed one of Liz's ample breasts before as quickly she tore it away.

Liz grinned upward at Frank acknowledging the gesture. Her thighs gripped Katie's head firmly as her legs went around the girl's back. She, too, had no intention of letting go until she'd had her pleasure.

Katie had begun to lick and suck in earnest not knowing that the juices she swallowed were a mixture of Frank's and her friend's, nor that her own juices had begun to spill around the edges of her cunt.

She felt fingers now toying with her nipples, a man's arms around her back. Strangely, their presence only made her feel warmer and more comfortable, less afraid.

She barely reacted when her panties were pulled down her thighs, then over one ankle. The man's finger probed at her vagina. Conrad had tried to put his finger there once, but of course she wouldn't let him, not until they were married.

It wasn't a finger. As wet or wetter than she'd ever been before, Frank's penis slid easily into her vagina, only requiring a little force as the last of her hymen tore away.

He began to move his cock in and out slowly, his hands all the while massaging her breasts and stroking her nipples. A wave of ecstasy began to spread slowly though her body at the same time as with sudden convulsions Liz began to buck in the chair pulling Katie up and down and Frank in and out with each movement.