12.
After a few minutes, Molly had managed to achieve a shaky rhythm, taking Smith’s cock to the base, sliding up until only the head remained in her mouth, and then slowly plunging down again. A ring of lipstick formed around the base of his cock in a thick red smear. His left hand ran through her hair, and with his right hand he roamed her body. He wrapped his hand around Molly’s right ankle and slowly slid it up the curve of her calf and thigh, up and over the cheek of her ass, and up the curve of her back to her shoulder, before sliding it to her left shoulder and repeating the journey in reverse until his palm slipped around her Achilles tendon and over her left heel before beginning the entire process all over again.
As Smith’s hands kept themselves busy, he watched intently as Molly worked him over. He was fascinated by the contortions of her face as she struggled to handle him. Her breasts hung deliciously and her nipples pressed into his side. Staring at her face and body drove him wild, and his cock stiffened to nearly impossible hardness. The feel of her mouth on him was magical, and when Molly’s teeth chattered and she accidentally bit him, rather than react in anger, Smith moaned in approval, instructing her to bite his cock on each stroke.
Rather than fight or resist, Molly actually tried to please Smith as she sucked his cock. She realized her safety might depend on his level of enjoyment, and she hoped that me might leave once all his objectives had been achieved. If she pleased him now, perhaps the nightmare might end. With that goal in mind, she ignored the pressure on her jaws, tongue and throat and tried her best to satisfy him. She tried to ignore the feel of his hands up and down her body, resisting the urge to pull away from his hungry hands as they crawled over her. She could feel his eyes on her and his lust rising as he clamped a handful of hair from the top of her head. She heard the telltale panting of breath and she knew the end was near.
Smith’s left hand closed into a fistful of Molly’s hair and his right hand clamped her ass tightly. He felt himself teetering on the edge and his body began to vibrate as the last few strokes counted down. He considered announcing himself but decided against it, and on the final stroke, without a word but with a loud cry, Smith ejaculated into Molly’s mouth halfway through a downstroke.
On his third orgasm, Smith did not have much left, but there was enough for his first two shots to send waves of hot sperm squirting against the roof of Molly’s mouth and gushing down the back of her throat. He held her head tightly and grunted each spasm of climax, watching intently as his shaft flexed against Molly’s lips with contraction. The third and fourth shots spilled out in a weak flow, and the rest were dry shots as his sperm reserve was now completely spent. Slowly he allowed Molly’s head to slide off his cock while making sure she didn’t make a mess on the way up.
Molly pulled her face free of Smith’s cock and sat back on her heels slumped to one side holding Smith’s sperm in her mouth. He sat up and grabbed her again by the hair and stared at her menacingly. She looked back at him in exhaustion and resignation and she knew what he wanted. Her eyes squinted hard as she fought the urge to spit out the hot fluid. It took two or three aborted attempts, but then, with her head slightly back, Molly gulped loudly as she swallowed and Smith’s sperm slid down her throat and into her stomach. Her whole body began spasming as she fought with the horrible taste of his sperm. She choked and dry-heaved as waves of nausea swept over her.
Molly sat slumped in the living room, struggling with the disgusting taste and crawly flood of Smith’s semen, staring blankly ahead as she convulsed. Smith got to his feet slowly and removed Molly’s panties from around his neck. He used them to wipe the lipstick from his cock and laid them on the sofa. He gingerly fastened the g-string around his battered cock and then snapped his pants legs before stepping into them. He found his shirt and shoes and finished getting dressed, and then retrieved the panties from the sofa. He held them for a moment in front of Molly, but he wasn’t sure she could see through her vacant stare. He smiled and slipped the panties into his pants pocket, leaned down, and kissed Molly’s forehead. Then he stepped over her, still dry-heaving, and walked casually out the front door, closing it behind him.
Outside, a quiet suburban morning greeted Smith. He put the empty jugs back in the van and put the vehicle in gear. Less than 90 minutes had passed since his arrival. He turned off the cul-de-sac and then onto the avenue, once again melting into traffic. Half a mile away, he pulled into a car wash, and not a single person noticed that a Gardner Springs truck entered but an unmarked passenger van emerged out the other side. The driver wore cargo pants and a red t-shirt, his short hair slightly spiked in front. Just another nameless person driving to who knows where on a quiet morning. The water delivery truck and its driver had simply ceased to exist. The plain white van signaled as it merged onto the freeway on-ramp and disappeared.
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