The situation, as Frank Doyle saw it, was not good. In fact it was very, very bad. When his friend, John O’Connor, had asked and then almost pleaded for help, Doyle knew that he shouldn’t have got involved. He certainly shouldn’t have got his wife, Tricia involved. But John was in trouble – big trouble. Maggie, his wife, and the Doyles’ friend, had gone missing. Frank and Tricia had obviously volunteered their help in finding her.
For three full days Frank and Tricia joined their friend and searched the city from top to bottom without success. John was becoming frantic as the days passed and the search produced nothing – until the note arrived. There was no mystery to the note, it simply reminded John of his gambling debts and enclosed a snapshot of John and Maggie that had been taken on holiday. There was nothing overtly sinister in the words, but reading between the lines, the three friends were not able to miss the point: John must pay what he owed or risk not seeing his wife again. Doyle knew that he and his wife should have backed off at that point – The Franco family, who John gambled with, were well known and their methods of recouping owed money notorious – but it was Tricia that immediately suggested that they should lend their friend the money. All six thousand of it. They were involved now for sure.
Ray Franco watched from a street corner as the three friends arrived at the bank the following day. His brother, Al, the brains of the family, had been right. O’Connor’s friends would bail him out. All Ray had to do was collect the money as they came out of the bank and bring it back home with him. Al had said that they would release the girl, but Ray hoped that he might have the opportunity of an hour or so with her first! I wouldn’t be long now; all three were walking out of the bank and Ray could see a package under O’Connor’s arm.
Franco smiled as John O’Connor noticed him and started to walk towards him with the package. Al would be pleased, he thought, this was all going according to plan. The two men’s eyes locked on to each other as O’Connor crossed the road. Then O’Connor’s stride suddenly became quicker and Franco began to become agitated as the other man then broke into a run and was now sprinting towards him, a wild look on his face. This was not how it was supposed to be. Franco turned on his heels and tried to flee. But he was too late. O’Connor was faster. There was a quick scuffle and the last thing Ray Franco remembered was the thud of a heavy object on the back of his head and then darkness.
Now the situation was bad, Frank Doyle t hought. Very, very bad. John could always be relied upon to act without thinking first, but this time he had surpassed himself. The three friends were talking in muted whispers in the Doyle’s kitchen – The tied and trussed Ray Franco currently occupying a chair in the main lounge.
“What the fuck were you thinking, John?” Doyle asked his friend incredulously. “You had the money, why not just hand it over?”
“Shit! Sorry, Frank. I know I should have, but just seeing that fucker standing there and smirking at me, I had to do something. I just lost it, you know? But it’s not all bad, surely? We got Franco’s brother. Maybe we can trade him for Maggie.”
“This is a bad situation,” interrupted Tricia. “We all know what the Franco’s are like. They’ll stop at nothing if one of their family is in trouble. You shouldn’t have done this, John.”
O’Connor turned away. He knew his friends were right.
“Okay, lets just untie him, give him the cash and get him out of here.” He said, defeatedly. “I just pray that Maggie’s still alright.” His voice trailed off.
Ray Franco, unperturbed by his recent assault, was now fully awake and sat up in the hard backed chair as the friends entered the lounge.
“You guys are dead!” he spat. “You’re all dead!”
“Just shut up Franco.” shouted Doyle, “we’re letting you go. Take the money back to your brother and release John’s wife, okay?”
Franco smiled – a sickly, broad grin. “You gotta be kidding me!” he said “You’re gonna have to do better than that if you ever want to see that redhead again!”
Frank Doyle had been expecting something like this, but O’Connor still seemed confused.
“What do you mean? We’re letting you go and paying you, now just let me have my Maggie back! If you touch one -”
“What is it you want, Mr. Franco?” Tricia interrupted. Like her husband, she too had been expecting some sort of retribution for O’Connor’s reckless actions.
“That’s better!” replied Franco, the sickly smile never leaving his dark face. “First, untie me, bitch! Then you can pour me a shot of that Jack Daniels over on the table there.”
Doyle and O’Connor stood shocked by Franco’s verbal abuse of Tricia. Doyle moved forward to defend his wife, but Tricia shushed him calmly – there was no point in aggravating the situation further.
Franco rubbed his released wrists and snatched the offered drink. The liquid burned his stomach as he emptied the contents of the glass in one hit.
“You guys are in a whole bunch of trouble – you know that, don’t you? But, just maybe, there’s a way out of this so you three and the pretty redhead can all see another day!”
Tricia stood in front of him, watching him calmly. “What do you have in mind, Mr. Franco?”
“Well, I was quite looking forward to an hour or so alone with the redhead. You do exactly what I say and I might persuade my brother to let you all live!”
Tricia stood still. Calm and pensive. She had been expecting something like this. Ray Franco was well known for his liking for rough sex, and she had caught him looking at her large breasts under the thin fabric of her white blouse. She knew she could handle him – question was, would she be able to handle the reaction of John or her husband?
“You can start by showing me your tits!” Franco blurted out.
Doyle watched in shocked fascination at his wife’s reaction to Franco’s instruction. He had never been the jealous type fortunately, and had known all about her affairs. But this was all together a different thing. He wanted to shout out. To punch Franco and to stop what was happening, but he knew the trouble that they were in: If Ray Franco reported to his brother what had happened, they would all be hurt. Tricia would be raped anyway and John would certainly never see his wife again. Doyle decided to swallow his pride and let Tricia deal with the situation.
Tricia was dealing with it in her own way. The buttons of her white blouse were undone and she was in the process of shrugging the garment from her shoulders.
“Don’t forget the bra!” cried Franco.
She could see that he was enjoying this immensely and noticed a hard lump outlining the crotch of his jeans.
The bra quickly followed and joined the blouse in a heap on the carpeted floor. Tricia was no prude. She enjoyed displaying her body – especially her breasts. She cupped them in her hands. They were large, but still nice and firm. She loved the way that her nipples were so sensitive and felt a shiver run up her spine as her fingers touched the buds.
“Nice!” murmured Franco as he unzipped his pants and produced his erect tool. “Very, very nice!”
Ray Franco continued with his instructions as he masturbated and Tricia obeyed without question. Her shoes and jeans soon joined the rest of her clothes on the floor and, when finally her tight cotton panties slithered down her legs, she stood before the room completely nude.
Doyle had long since forgotten about attempting to stop his wife from disrobing. He was enjoying the display far too much and could feel his own hard-on straining in his pants. He also knew that Tricia was no longer being coerced – the small beads of fluid that he could see on her pussy lips gave away her considerable excitement. Doyle wasn’t completely surprised at that – Franco had a very large cock and Tricia could hardly keep her eyes from it as he slowly stroked it. He watched his wife lick her lips in obvious anticipation as Franco spoke once again.
“Hop up here, bitch!” he said, slapping his thighs playfully, “It’s time to introduce that wet cunt of yours to my cock!”
This time Tricia acted immediately. All other thoughts had disappeared. She knew one thing and one thing only: she had to have that big cock inside her – and the sooner the better.
Franco was still seated on the hard backed chair and, throwing her leg over his lap, Tricia straddled him with her back to him. The chair was quite low and Franco was able to grasp her hips and guide her as she lowered herself onto him. They both gasped simultaneously at the moment of penetration, Tricia’s gasp turning into a squeal of ecstasy as she sat down on Franco’s lap and allowed the full extent of his shaft to slide deep inside her pussy.
Doyle was fixated. He couldn’t seem to move. Thinking about his wife’s various affairs had always turned him on, but seeing her get fucked by such an impressive weapon was quite a different matter. He desperately wanted to masturbate but thought better of it. He contented himself with squeezing his prick surreptitiously through the fabric of his pants and watching the display his slut wife was currently putting on.
Tricia was riding up and down on Franc’s cock for all she was worth. Her hands were at her tits, the fingers squeezing and tugging her nipples as she climbed higher and higher to what Doyle knew would be a crushing orgasm. Her eyes were tight shut and he watched closely as her legs began to tremble and her knees buckled. She moaned deeply as she came – one hand flying down to her groin and frantically rubbing her clearly visible clitty. The moan intensified until it became a high pitched wail. She bit her lip as the climax washed over her shuddering body and Franco had to grip her tightly around the waist to keep himself inside her.
“My turn now!” Cried Franco as he pushed her shaking body forward and released his engorged member from her hot, wet pussy. “I’m gonna cum in you – but not in your cunt. I wanna cum in your ass!”
With that, Tricia was pushed firmly to the ground on her front. Doyle and O’Connor could see the smooth, round cheeks of her butt as she moaned her consent. Franco was on her in a second. His knees were planted on either side of her hips and he used his fingers to pry her buttocks apart.
“Mmmm,” he groaned as he began to massage some of her orgasmic fluid into the tight, star shaped hole, “You got a sweet little pucker there, bitch! I’m gonna enjoy fucking you in the ass!”
Franco wasted no more time with the lubrication process. He stoked his hard tool once and pushed two inches straight into Tricia’s back door. Doyle heard his wife scream and them groan deeply as she was assaulted. Inch by inch Franco pushed himself into her, moaning about how nice and tight she was and that she was a complete slut for enjoying it so much. Doyle knew that he was right; He was married to a total slut, a born slut and – he loved it!
Franco’s self control had been enviable, but Tricia’s tight asshole was too much even for him. With a sudden shout of triumph he quickly withdrew and Doyle and O’Connor watched fascinated as his twitching and jerking cock came in to view. Franco’s eyes were screwed tight shut and he was muttering under his breath. It almost sounded like a prayer to the other two men and they looked on as he began to cum. Spurt after spurt of thick, white liquid discharged from the tip of his spasming tool and landed on Tricia’s upturned buttocks. She twitched and moaned every time she felt the fluid scorch her skin and her body shook into another orgasm. Franco finished by wiping his juice stained cock over and between her quivering butt cheeks.
Leaving the gasping and trembling Tricia still face down on the floor, Franco slowly dressed himself. The grimace of sexual gratification had left his face and had, once again, been replaced by the sickly smirk. It was as if he had always been in control. He picked up the package of money and raised his zipper. He turned towards Doyle and O’Connor.
“That’s a sweet little slut you got there, man!” he said, “I’ll be coming back later for another taste! Don’t worry,” he continued directing his eyes at O ‘Connor, “I’ll be sure to bring the redhead with me. I think a little three way action maybe on the cards!”
Frank Doyle heard his friend groan as he realised that Maggie was going to have to go through a similar experience. He looked down at Tricia – his slut – his wife – still twitching on the carpet in post-orgasmic ecstasy. She was smiling and Doyle knew that Franco was right. Tricia was a born slut and the day was not yet over!