Spouse Swap

Chapter 8

Trish slammed the door and leaned against it for a few seconds, breasts rising and falling in rhythm to the anger that rode her. Anger at herself. Touching Bruce's prick had been a mistake. A near-disaster. He had damned near changed his mind about going into town, and she had damned near lost those valuable hours his absences always gave her to do some treasure hunting in Lonesome Valley.

She crossed over to the window and watched Bruce take off down the lane in his dust-covered Mazda. Then she started to go upstairs to get dressed. She never made it. She was near the landing when she glanced toward the window and saw Gabe Penner's battered pickup appear in the lane. She slipped into her robe and met him at the door with ah icy smile. "About goddamn time you decided to get your ass back to this stinking ranch." She studied him intently. "Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to check in last night."

Gabe heeled the door shut behind him and attempted to take her in his arms. Trish backed away. He stopped smiling and scowled at her. He was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was husky with anger. "I must be in the wrong pad. The pussy who usually greets me at the door does it with her lips, not her claws." His eyes probed. "What's bugging your pretty ass, puss? My being a few hours overdue? Couldn't be helped. Something came up."

Her lips curved in a smirk. "The only thing that comes up for you is that mule-dick of yours."

Gabe shook his head and gave a short, bitter laugh. "Not this time, babe."

"Then why so late getting back."

His voice sagged. "I was busy."

She snorted. "Doing what? Fucking every girl at Stella Roller's cathouse?"

A faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "If you must know, I was playing bird-dog."

A bewildered look came over her face. "Bird-dog?"

"Yeah, puss, bird-dog. There was an FBI man in town, asking a lot of questions about the Mustang Airlines job." He saw her pale, and now mockery edged his voice. "Don't pop an ovary, partner. He was just working his way down a list of towns where they think the skyjackers might be holed up."

"How come it took him so long to get here? Christ, it's been almost two months since we pulled that caper."

"You know them-or you should. They take their time with rough cases."

"But they always come up with the right answers."

Gabe smiled mirthlessly. "Not this time, puss. The prick I followed all over Lone Pine drew a blank. How could he do otherwise? Hell, the only person who could finger us for the job is at the bottom of that stinking well in Lonesome Valley. Like I said before, don't worry."

"Take your suggestion and shove it up your ass," Trish said angrily. "Tell me more."

"What's to tell? The prick asked his questions, received no answers and that's it. He was getting ready to leave for Timber City when I finally gave up on the bastard."

"He left Lone Pine?"

"By now he did."

Trish smiled acidly. "So much for the good news. Now for the bad. Old Bruce rolled out the welcome mat for a stranger while you were gone."

Gabe nodded. "I know. Elke Lockridge. She mentioned the possibility of coming out here when I bumped into her at the drugstore this morning.

She stared at him, her eyes wide with shock.

"Her coming here to live doesn't bother you?"

"Not a bit. And it shouldn't bother you either. So a wild bird is flying in to roost with us, so what? I checked the tight-assed bitch out long ago. She doesn't know anything about the job we pulled with her old man."

Trish's voice slashed at him. "Maybe not, but suppose the overly friendly cunt becomes a nuisance and keeps us from searching for the missing money?"

"Don't sweat it," Gabe said as he slipped an arm around Trish" s waspish waist and steered her toward the sofa. "Just keep hanging on to Bruce's dick the way you've been doing, and leave Elke Lockridge to me." He grinned at her. "If you gotta bleed, do it over Joe Dooley. I've seen him prowling the foothills of Lonesome Valley too often during these past few weeks."

Her face contorted in anger. "You and me both, chum."

"Never mind, puss. I'll take care of Dooley's ass if he becomes too much of a problem. Same with Elke Lockridge. Let me worry about them."

Her voice sagged with resignation. "All right, Gabe, they're all yours."

Suddenly slyness edged Gabe's voice as he lifted a hand to her breasts and asked, "And you, babe? Are you mine, too?"

"Oh, For Christ's sake," Trish hissed, momentarily forgetting Gabe's explosive temper, "don't you start going the baby-talk route with me! I get enough of that shit from that fucking rancher I have to entertain." She pushed his hand away from her breasts. "And stop feeling my tits! If you want to grab something, try wrapping those horny hands of yours around a shovel handle. Christ, those stinking prairie dogs have been digging more holes than you in Lonesome Valley. Why the hell don't you go out there and help them?"

Gabe suddenly exploded. His open hand cracked against her cheek and brought instant tears of pain to her eyes. The same slap knocked her to the floor. She landed on her back and lay there, eyes bright with fear, breasts heaving wildly from the same emotion. She tried to speak, failed. She tried again. Her lips worked soundlessly for a few seconds before she managed to blurt, "I'm sorry, Gabe. I didn't mean to sound so bitchy. I guess I forgot-"

His hand shot down and pulled her head back up by the hair. Then he tugged and jerked her to a standing position. Anger masked his face and tinged his voice as he ripped open her robe and said, "I'm going to make sure you don't come down with amnesia again, puss." He whirled her around and peeled the robe from her body. He laughed wildly. "A good fuck in the ass might make you think twice before you try running a ring through my nose again."

Trish tried to twist free of his grip on her hips and shrilled, "Gabe, no! Fuck me in the cunt, make me suck you off, but please don't stick it up my ass!"

"Get smart!" Gabe growled as he bent her over the arm of the sofa and rubbed his suddenly naked cock against her buttocks. "I'm tired of listening to you wise off at me, so shut the hell up, pig!"

Trish didn't. She tensed as the egg-sized tip of Gabe's massive organ made contact with her puckered sphincter, then she yelped, "No, Gabe, no!"

One hand left her squirming hip. This same hand lifted, dropped. Crack! She whimpered as a sharp, stinging pain sliced into her dimpled buttocks. A pulse beat later his cockhead tried to stretch and pass beyond her anal circle.

"Not there, Gabe! Oh, my God, not there!"

"Shut up, pig!"

"Oh, please don't…"

The rest of her words died an abrupt death as Gabe growled like an angry dog and shoved his prick up her asshole with one savage thrust.

Trish whimpered.

Gabe laughed and rammed his cock deeper, all the way to his balls.

Trish screamed as his prick impaled her, its swollen knob boring between and beyond the tan circle that represented her anal entrance to find and hit the back of her tormented passage. A grunt belched out of her. Horror mingled with agony washed into her face. Daggers of pain sliced at her nerve tips. Blackness, truculent and determined, threatened, then passed into nothingness. Pain remained-vicious, torrid, almost unbearable. Trish clenched her teeth to keep from screaming again as his cock kept boring. A series of violent spasms rocked her body… then she relaxed.

From a seemingly great distant she heard Gabe bark, "Don't roll over and play dead with me, puss; necrophilia isn't my bag. Come alive. Start grinding that sweet ass of yours. Now, not later! Fuck, bitch, fuck!" Trish hesitated.

Gabe dug his fingernails into her hips and snarled, "Fuck, you slimy whore, fuck!"

The cobwebs of pain lifted from Trish's brain. Now she could think again. Terror drained out of her. Hatred came, and as she shifted her hips into gear to grind the semen from Gabe Penner's cock, she told herself, I'll grind you into a wild cum, you sadistic bastard. I'll fuck you now… and when we find that bag Hank stashed away I'll also fuck you out of your share of the money!

"Faster, you goddamned slut!" Gabe commanded harshly. "Do it! Fuck faster!"

Trish responded. She even pretended to like what he was doing to her. She started meeting him thrust for thrust, then chanted with mock passion, "Oooh, this big cock of yours is starting to get to me, lover! So very, very good! It's beginning to melt my pussy! Don't slow down! Pump it to me, you donkey-dicked bastard! Harder, harder! Make me cream, make me cream!"

Gabe tried. He stopped clutching her squirming hips and palmed her bouncing breasts. Then he dropped his head and gnawed on the back of her neck as he continued to worm his prick in and out of her ass.

Trish kept chanting: "Man, talk about a wild jump! This big whang of yours is really out of sight! It's driving me right up the wall! Higher, higher! Ah, sweet mother, I feel as though I'm going to come any second now!"

"Pop away, puss!" Gabe croaked. "Pop me while you're at it! Do your own thing. Drain the milk out of my cock and make me come with you! Hit it, puss, hit it!"

"Right on!"

"Faster!"

Trish's movements became more frenzied. She wanted his dick out of her ass as soon as possible. A few bucks later she was rewarded for her efforts as Gabe moaned, buried his bone deep in her back passage and blew his nuts in angry spurts.

"So hot," Trish murmured. "Your cock juice feels like liquid fire…" Her voice trailed off.

Gabe finished his climax and backed his already softening penis out of her anal passage. Trish made a sour face as she felt his semen ooze out of her. She felt sick inside. And tense. She remained draped over the arm of the sofa, afraid to move, until she heard him say, "For whatever it's worth, puss, I'm sorry I blew my cool with you."

Trish straightened slowly, painfully. She turned to look at Gabe. His face was flushed, his eyes bloodshot and bleary, but the cruel anger that had driven his prod up her back hole no longer rode him. Breath hissed out of her in relief. Now he was normal again, and it would be up to her to keep him that way.

"Stop staring at me like that," Gabe growled. "I said I was sorry."

You certainly are, she thought. You're one of the sorriest sons of bitches I've ever met!

She ignored the sperm that continued to stain her inner thighs as she plucked a cigarette from a box on the coffee table and tucked it between her lips. She talked around it. "My fault, lover. I made you come unglued."

His lips twisted in a humorless smile as he snatched up a table lighter and touched the flame to the tip of her cigarette. "Sometimes it doesn't take much to make me come unhinged, puss. Never could stand bossy broads. Don't do it again, huh?"

"I won't."

"Promise?"

She nodded. Anything to keep this bastard happy. Anything to keep him from dumping her again. Until…

Gabe grinned at her. "Did I hurt you very much?" His tone told her that he really didn't give a damn.

Trish bristled inwardly. Not as much as I'm going to hurt you after we find that bag of money, you sadistic prick… by swinging with the whole bundle!

And aloud she said, "What's a little pain among friends?"

Gabe laughed and stung her left hip with a slap. "Now you sound like the girl I always want to smother with tenderness, puss. A real champagne lady." He paused to smack his lips. "Speaking of the bubbly, how about breaking out a jug of it so we can both unwind?"

She took a deep drag on her cigarette and sent a pale scarf of smoke toward the high ceiling. Glances locked. She managed a thin smile. "I have a better idea, Gabe. Call it a suggestion. Mrs.

Singing Rabbit is gone, and Bruce won't be back until late tonight, so why don't we pack some booze out to the cabin in Lonesome Valley and drink while we do some prospecting?"

He thought it over, nodded. "Sounds like a winner. I'll get the champagne."

She ditched her cigarette. "And I'll get dressed."

"You'd better," Gabe said as he crossed over to the liquor cabinet. "Going out there dressed in nothing except a garter belt and spikes could result in your getting raped by an oversexed bear."

A dark look crawled across her face. Her eyes frosted. Her voice tightened. "Or by Joe Dooley."

Gabe shook his head and smiled malevolently. "You can forget about that prick with ears roaming the hills and making us nervous, at least for a week or so."

"Oh?"

"I took his wheels out from under him."

Trish looked at him in amazement. "You did?"

"Damn right! The way he babied and fretted over that stinking Jeep of his, you didn't really expect it to break down by itself, did you?"

Trish threw back her head and laughed.