Splattered

Sixteen: Love (or something like it)

Finding a place to park off the street was no easy chore (five inches of snow had already fallen, and the town’s fleet of plows amounted to exactly one truck), but Keltie insisted it be done before she and Marty went in search of a place to lay their weary heads. Grumbling his displeasure, the Filipino crawled behind the wheel, only to find that he couldn’t see well enough to drive and had to get out to brush snow off the windshield. Keltie made a show of stretching out in the backseat, lacing her hands behind her head until Marty became visible through the glass, at which point she smiled and waved.

“Atta boy!” she yelled. “Brush that snow!”

Such brazenness might have earned the middle finger treatment from other boys; Marty only grinned and stuck his tongue out. Once back inside, he wondered aloud where they were going to put the car. All of Howling had been whited out. If they wandered for too long, he warned, he might wind up driving over a curb, or into a ditch. Keltie bit her lip. Half a dozen ideas—all of them terrible—popped into her head. Her legs, still stretched in the back seat, bent at the knees. For a moment she caught him admiring the view and was happy. She realized that besides saving her life, he had done something else for her today as well: re-awakened a long dormant s****l desire.

“Just park it right in the driveway here,” she said, jerking her thumb towards Unsichtbar’s mansion. “Then get in the back with me.” A grin spread across her face. “Now.”

Marty opened his mouth to answer. What he might have said didn’t matter, because Keltie knew the idea was silly on the spot.

“Wait,” she interrupted, “never mind. Much as the thought appeals to me, we can’t do it.”

“Let’s drive around the block,” Marty brought out. “Maybe we’ll come across something.”

“Don’t get us stuck.”

He didn’t get them stuck. In spite of all the crazy s**t God had thrown at him, today was apparently the kid’s day. He skidded and slid the car down to the corner, hung a left, and found, of all things, a bed and breakfast with a convenient little driveway next to it.

HOWLING MANOR, a green sign with yellow lettering proclaimed from the lawn, ROOMS AND RECREATION. SPEND THE NIGHT IN ANOTHER TIME!

The house looked tremendous, though Keltie did not dawdle long in the cold to admire it. Giant windows lit with gold shined beneath icicle eaves. She and Marty mounted a large porch. A red door with a wreath greeted them. Marty opened it on a room bathed in the warm, yellow light of several oil lamps placed along walls of paneled oak. A staircase, carpeted red, coiled behind a heroic, wooden receiving desk. An antique cash register decorated the desk. And next to that…

“No one,” Keltie said, peering around. There was a wall clock, ticking pleasantly. A shelf of books. Some paintings. An ottoman. “Though I guess that sign wasn’t kidding about being in another time.”

“Lots of old-looking stuff,” Marty agreed. “I like it.”

He rang a bell on the desk. A muffled voice, telling them to please wait, called from upstairs. Seconds later a thin, bald man in blocky glasses arrived to check them in. Here Keltie became nervous about how they were going to pay for their night at the manor (which so far looked very expensive), but her worries dissolved when Marty took a credit card from his wallet. For a moment she wondered whether or not he’d stolen it. Then a strong gust of wind hit the window, and she decided it didn’t matter. No one was going to come looking for two escaped juveniles in this crazy weather. Even the bald man seemed not to care who they were. With a friendly nod, he took the card from Marty and scanned it. Then he escorted them up the lushly carpeted stairs.

The hallway at the top was much, much prettier than the one Keltie had seen at Unsichtbar’s house. Gold lamps shined from quaint little end tables, some with flowers, some without. The man showed them into a masculine-looking room of dark curtains and even darker wood. A four-poster bed, the biggest Keltie had ever seen, dominated the floor. Another clock ticked on the wall, next to a writing desk with a naked chair.

“Wow,” she gushed, “this is really nice.”

The man looked pleased. “Thank you. My wife and I spent years restoring the house. There’s a complimentary breakfast in the morning. We also have a library, if you like to read.”

“Perfect,” Marty said.

Once they were alone in the room, Keltie went to the door and locked it. She hung her coat, with stake and hammer still inside, on the chair. Her bones ached. It had been a day of victories and defeats, both of which took their toll on her strength. The four-poster, with its deep blankets and soft pillows, beckoned. Keltie took a seat on the mattress. She slid off her boots as Marty sauntered over to the window for a look outside.

“Getting dark,” he said. “Barely past one o’clock and already getting dark.”

“I hope no one comes looking for us,” she replied, more for something to say than out of any actual concern. She didn’t want to discuss the police right now, or vampires, or Satanists or whatever. “A long, hot bath is in order. This place better have a tub.”

“What if Bolt comes? If Vera was right about Unsichtbar he might track us here.”

Keltie acted like she didn’t hear. She stood up and, looking straight into his eyes, began to unbutton her top.

“Keltie?”

She laughed. He’d played Superman twice today; now, suddenly, he couldn’t recognize Lois Lane. The blouse slipped from her shoulders. She placed it on the bed before walking, fawn-like, to close her arms about his neck. It was a reach. A wondrous, blissful reach. Keltie felt she could hang from him like an ornament, so handsome was his build. Marty hesitated for only a moment, then his arms enveloped her, drew her in, to let Keltie stand on tip-toe for a kiss, which she accepted greedily, clawing at his hair between desperate gasps for breath. His fingers found the clasp of her brassiere, fumbled, unclipped it. Cool air found Keltie’s breasts, sharpening the n*****s even further.

“Yes, baby,” she whispered in between kisses. “Oh my God, yes.”

Marty lifted off his own shirt, giving her a nice, wide frame of dark skin to indulge. Her fingers stroked his chest. She heard it fill with air—a low, powerful breath—and then her body was being slowly turned round, so that Marty’s hands could reach from behind and take hold of her breasts. A much softer, much higher, much prettier breath flooded her own lungs, but they did not hold it for long. Who could blame them? She was beneath the surface of his masculinity, and being dragged deep. Air was not a luxury. Nor did she wish it to be.

Marty let one of his hands stray from her breast to clasp hold of her throat. Silently, Keltie dared him to squeeze. Meanwhile his other hand worked its way down to the belt of her skirt and plunged underneath. His fingers found the band of her panties, crawled under that too, and invaded her v****a.

“Marty!” she cried. “Marty!”

She fell backward. The wall of his body caught her up. Confident that it would continue to bear her weight, Keltie opened her legs wide, allowing him even more access down below. Now one of his fingers curved around the groin and pressed on her other, smaller hole until it got inside. Keltie’s eyes fluttered open. She was somewhat hesitant about letting him explore this region of her body (what if something messy happened?), but though the sensation was strange she found it pleasurable enough to let him continue. Wise decision, for it allowed the hard bone of Marty’s palm to become wedged against her c******s, forceful enough to make Keltie’s knees buckle in ecstasy.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it, baby!” Then, in near total lack of self-control, she screamed: “Choke me! Choke me!”

He obliged. The plea was barely out of Keltie’s mouth when she felt her windpipe squeezed hard enough to block almost all air from getting through. She gagged, opening her mouth wide as it would go for a breath. Her hands flew to take hold of Marty’s hand, but he was far, far too strong. There was simply no budging it, no getting it to come free.

Harder! the crazy b***h—the one who’d been with Keltie as she’d smashed Vera’s heart to smithereens with a hammer—shrieked. Harder, boy! Come on! SQUEEZE!

No way could Marty have heard, but he did see her smile, and no doubt realized that his other hand—the one in between her legs—was soaking wet. So he squeezed harder. And in her mind Keltie heard the crazy b***h squeal with delight, just before her air was completely cut off.

“Good girl,” Marty said, sounding like a man who’d just made his pet roll over for a treat. “Look at me now. Look. Do you need air? Hmm?”

Keltie did. Her hands slapped frantically at the vice around her throat. Marty waited a moment longer, with his finger still in her ass and the ball of his hand practically crushing her v****a, then let her gasp.

“GAHHH! HUHHHH! UHHHH!”

“Good girl!”

Leering up at him in between lungfuls of air, Keltie said: “You want a good girl, you need to take me to bed and f**k me. Think you can do that? Come on, Marty.”

They hobbled over to the mattress like the world’s most awkward team in a three-legged sack race. Keltie’s skirt fell to her ankles. In one swift motion she kicked it away and plopped down on the bed, smiling up at Marty through the dregs of mascara running down her face. He paused to clumsily remove his shoes. Patiently as she knew how, Keltie waited. She pulled her panties off and lay back spread-eagle on the bed, open to anything he had in mind. Seconds later Marty removed his jeans and underwear with one, quick tug. His p***s, brown and wide, looked delightfully brutal. It stabbed up at the ceiling like a lance.

“Come on, baby,” Keltie challenged. “Come on.”

She expected him to jump on top of her and start pounding straight away. Instead, he kneeled in between her legs, grabbing hold of the ankles to open her wide. Keltie’s pretty holes became fully exposed, while his d**k—which was suddenly something she wanted to eat and be killed by at the same time—closed in. Its hot bulb touched the lips of her v****a, hesitated, and then plunged deep.

She tried not to scream. It wouldn’t do for him to think she wasn’t strong enough, or hungry enough, to absorb his might. But the pain was exquisite—a hulking beast eager to drag her beneath the waters of its desire and pin her down. Swarms of bubbles, their colors immeasurable as they were uncountable, flew before her eyes. Keltie had time to understand that these were her bubbles, her screams of joy, of anguish. Then she and the beast broke the surface. A breath of air rushed through Keltie’s lungs. It came just in the nick of time, for in the next moment, she was down again. Down, down, down in the depths, unable to escape, unwilling to escape. Thrilled to be loved and torn to pieces by the wondrous creature that kept her hostage.

This time it would not let her go, no matter how many bubbles there were. Still holding her legs wide, Marty’s thrusts quickened, pounding Keltie’s virgin cunt hard as his hips could manage.

“Yes!” she heaved. “Yes, Marty! Come on! Harder!”

“Oh, you LOVE it, don’t you?” he snarled back, jamming deep every time the very word—love—was spoken. “LOVE it! LOVE it! LOVE it!”

“YES! Talk to me! Talk to me while you f**k me!”

“Filthy f*****g w***e!”

“YES!”

“YOU LOVE IT! Every time I f**k this CHEAP, SLUTTY little CUNT!”

“TALK TO ME OH f**k! f**k, MARTY, f**k!”

“I’LL f**k YOU UNTIL YOU SCREAM! SCREAM FOR DADDY RIGHT NOW, YOU SKANKY LITTLE c*m-SUCKING b***h!”

Keltie screamed. It brought her dangerously close to the edge of passing out, but she screamed. At the same time, she squirted all over Marty’s belly, bathing him in who knew what. It didn’t slow him down in the least. If anything, his thrusts intensified for a few more, precarious seconds. Then he, too, was spilling his load. Gushing inside of her while his whole body shook. Spent at last, he collapsed on top of her.

“I love you, Marty,” Keltie said, barely able to find breath for the words. “I love you so f*****g much, baby.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” his burning face answered. “I love you, too.”

Her hands soothed the scratches she’d dug into his back, rubbing them, massaging them gently. “Baby,” she whispered. “Sweetheart. Darling.”

“You’re beautiful, Keltie. You know that?”

“Yes, I do.”

He laughed. “Well, that’s half the battle.”

“There’d better be more battles to come, mister. Many more.”

“Yes ma’am. You have my solemn word.”