The Frightened Heart

CHAPTER ONE Bobbi was five feet, four inches tall, with hair blacker than the dark of night, and skin whiter than alabaster. She had large, questioning eyes that always seemed to be asking, even though she already knew most of the answers. Her nose was short, and seemed to fit perfectly above her heart-shaped lips. Her tight dresses always accentuated her full, firm bosom, while letting the world know she had a trim twenty-three-inch waistline. Her soft, inviting belly, hidden under the dress, had the barest round shape below her navel, just enough to keep it from looking like something cast from concrete. The little roundness to her belly made her look all the more human, and therefore all the more desirable. Her loins were also round and full and solid, and every man who stared at them wished he were between them. But thirty-year-old Bobbi Rogar was the prized possession of only one man; her husband, Henry Rogar. Henry was a dramatics teacher at a nearby high school, and was able, better than anyone else, to appreciate the prize he had in Bobbi. Henry was handsome with a virile, masculine quality to his face, and he always kept his body in excellent physical shape. He was as much the love object of the women in his community as Bobbi was that of the men. It was therefore obvious to all their friends and neighbors how perfectly suited they were to one another. It was even obvious to Henry, who took advantage of his wife's delightful body twenty six nights every month. Henry loved pushing his thick, swollen, massive phallus into Bobbi's delightfully tight v****a. He loved the way her inner core seemed to surround and crush his meaty intruder. After all these years, even after having given birth to three sons, Bobbi had a cunt tighter than a snapping rubber band. Each time he pushed into her, it was as if he were de-virginizing her all over again. The only trouble with all this was, Bobbi felt pain each time he f****d her. She felt agonizing searing hurt each time her husband's phallus, nine inches long, and nearly three and a half inches around, pushed into her. Oh she had her share of orgasms, but the pain accompanying them was as powerful as any pleasure she felt, and she knew almost all the other women in the neighborhood had stopped feeling the pain after their respective wedding nights, while the pleasure inside them was enhanced all the more. Last night had been that ultimate straw breaking the proverbial camel's back. Henry always loved to do things a bit roughly. After having finished the dishes, while the kids were still watching TV downstairs, Bobbi wanted to rest a bit. But there was Henry, coming into the bedroom behind her, shutting the door after him. "Come on, Henry," she begged. "Not right now. It's been an exhausting day. I've been with the PTA, the Women's Auxiliary, and I've even had to drive all three boys to religious school, at different times. Have a heart." But Henry's arm was around her waist, and when she tried pulling away, she found his grip too tight. Looking into his eyes, she could see the building lust. Each time she looked, it frightened her. She feared he might one day get so carried away by his own emotions, he would hurt her even more than he did, normally. Yet, through the fear, and in spite of the knowledge there would be pain, there was always that hidden anticipation, knowing there would be that ultimate pleasure as well. "You drive me wild, Bobbi," he muttered. "Every time I look at. you, I feel I have to f**k you. If it weren't for the kids, I'd have you naked the minute I got home, and we'd be scoring in the living room, on the kitchen table, and even in the bathtub." Bobbi remembered how hectic her first year of marriage had been. Henry had done all those things he'd just described, and more. He used to wake her in the morning and tongue her hot p***y until she came. Then he would stuff that monstrous prod of his into her. At that time, right up until the birth of her firstborn, she was convinced she would eventually stretch wide enough to take him without any pain. But it just didn't happen. Immediately after breakfast he would take her again. Bobbi's respite would last until lunchtime. The school was right around the corner from their home, and he would be home for lunch every day at twelve thirty. And before stuffing a sandwich into his mouth, he would stuff his phallus into poor Bobbi. Sometimes he would use her mouth, but those times he always came close to strangling her. At four thirty, after Drama class was over, he'd be back, pounding into her again, f*****g her intermittently on and off until it was time for them to go to bed. And the routine had remained that way until after their first son had been born. If nothing else, Henry had been an understanding husband. He knew she had a lot of things to do after the birth of their son, and tempered his s****l activity accordingly. Nevertheless, he still fed his c**k to her at every opportunity, which included their first getting into bed, each night. Two more sons followed, one right after the other, and Bobbi became even busier, but Henry insisted on giving it to her at least once a night, whenever possible. And Bobbi, knowing how much it meant to him, willingly allowed her wonderful husband to literally ravish her body. All three sons looked almost exactly like their mother, though all had their father's natural flair for the dramatic. All were good-looking boys. The oldest was now eleven, followed by the next one, nine and a half, the youngest, seven. Now Henry was holding her close, his firm, strong arms wrapped around her, his mouth nibbling at her earlobe, chewing with just enough pressure to drive her wild. God, she wanted it. She really wanted it. In spite of the pain, she wanted it. There was something about the way Henry aroused her that made her want to beg for the agony she would feel when spitted on the end of his fabulous c**k. Now, as his lips burned into the side of her throat from behind, she felt his hands gripping her full breasts through her dress. It made her that much more aroused. Lord, but it felt so wonderful. All her instincts told her to stop fighting her own husband and give in. Yet the fear of pain, hiding in the back of her mind, made her shudder. She knew Henry loved it when she struggled, though her struggling was almost automatic, sensing the agony she would feel when he finally had his way with her. So when she writhed and wriggled, and felt him tug both arms behind her, then grip her two wrists in a large hand, she knew she should have expected it. But being raped, even if it was a willing rape, was something she had never gotten used to in her eighteen years of marriage. His other hand was holding her face, steadying it so he could burn his lips against hers. She tasted the mintiness of his breath and squirmed beneath the hand now unzipping her dress and moving along her breasts. She felt his fingers squeeze her thickening n*****s through her bra, then the hand came out and finished unzipping her dress, pulling it down over her hips, letting it fall to the floor. Then his hand was back to her breast-filled bra, once again using his fingers to pinch her swelling n*****s. Bobbi pulled her mouth from his, saying, "Henry, now now ... wait until later tonight ... mmmmmmphhhhhh . ... " His mouth was back on hers, pressing into her lips as his tongue stabbed itself against her teeth and palate, effectively silencing her. His fingers undid the snaps of her bra, loosening it, then taking it off. He pulled his mouth away, then said, "I want it, now. God, Bobbi, I'm so hungry for you I feel I'm going to explode at any moment. Just keep it low. Remember, the kids are all awake, and even if the TV set is loud, if you shout they'll be able to hear you. I can't get enough of you. I'm going to feel those luscious t**s of yours, then I'm going to suck on them and chew the n*****s. And then I'm going to put my tongue all the way into that hot p***y of yours and ream it out. And after I've made you come at least once with my tongue, I'm going to ram my hard c**k into your lovely cunt and fill it up with my joy juice. Just cooperate, and it'll all be over in an hour ... maybe." "Come on, Henry...." "Right, Bobbi. I'm going to come on inside you. I'm going to shoot a whole lake of the stuff into you. Not only will you let me do it, but you'll help." With his foot tripping her, he eased her onto their bed, a bed still made, then lowered himself next to her and began fondling her breasts. He loved the firm way they'd managed to hold up after all these years, and the mere sight of her swollen brown n*****s made him drool. His left hand continued clutching her wrists behind her as his lips slowly surrounded her right n****e. He began to suck like a child nursing at its mother's bosom. Only the way he sucked, one could see he wasn't looking for milk. He wanted to taste the very essence of his wife, slobbering all over her breast as he did. His right hand was pressing against the slightly rounded bowl of her wonderful belly, pressing through the material of her panties. Bobbi was already enjoying herself immensely, as she'd known she would, having gone through this so many times before. Her husband's mouth was intentionally rough, obviously knowing what seemed to be the best way to arouse her. He tongued her two n*****s one at a time, and the furnace of his mouth was making the chocolate tips of her breasts grow and extend themselves, thereby informing him of the success with which his ministrations were meeting, in spite of her pretentious struggles. Bobbi writhed and jerked, yet her hands pressed on his head, holding his face close to her bosom. She had known all along she would submit to him. Perhaps she wanted the pain. She knew she wanted the pleasure, but she always blanched at the thought of pain. Yet now, being heated up and aroused, she almost wanted that pain in order to feel the thrilling pleasure that came with it. Although her husband had locked the bedroom door, she kept thinking one of the kids might pound on it and distract them. They had a habit of doing that, sometimes. But she knew it was only eight thirty, and their favorite TV program was on. They'd be rooted to the downstairs floor, watching that program for the remainder of the hour. And then there was another show. No, there was almost no chance of their being disturbed by the children. Though her arms continued holding his head, pressing his mouth against her well-licked t**s, her loins continued fighting the insistent pressure of his hand. They remained tightly pressed together, no matter what he did. But he was much stronger than she, and after awhile it began to tell. Slowly, silently, he forced her thighs apart. His caressing fingers slid up the inner softness of her tender thighs. And all the while, his mouth continued eating the nut-like tips of her large breasts. Bobbi listened to him sucking noisily, but only barely heard him. Her mind was concentrating on the titillation of his fingers moving up her thigh, moving slowly but certainly toward her moist v****a. The lubricant dripping from her vaginal interior had already soaked into the crotch of her panty, leaving it a soaking mess. Some excess was already sliding down her thighs and ass-cheeks, falling onto the bedspread. Luckily, the colorless fluid dried quickly, and completely disappeared. In spite of knowing she would shortly receive a great amount of pain, her heated desire was increasing with the passing of each second. In spite of her resolve to resist, she was going to let him f**k her. God! She had to be crazy. The pain was pure agony each time. Yet, she allowed him to fit that thick, rubbery length of flesh-plug into her because there was something equally strong, making the pain almost worthwhile.