Repercussions - Part Thirteen - Finale(A continuation of ‘The Bet’)A crowd had gathered

Repercussions - Part Thirteen - Finale(A continuation of ‘The Bet’)A crowd had gathered along the shore that morning. Each set of prying eyes eager and hungry for the latest gossip, the newest shock to talk about in conspired whispers over coffee or whispered furtively at the markets when no one might overhear. Men lined the railing overlooking the rocks smoking their cigars and cigarettes, all of them trying to sound hardened, accustomed to the sight and stench of death. Women, curious themselves as they peered between the men’s shoulders, made sure to hide the eyes of their children from the ghastly sight; protecting them from reality as all good mothers would do. The rains had just ended for the small coastal town and the waves of the Adriatic had receded back to Neptune’s eternal throne.  For once the shoreline lay bleak and there lay a slight strip of sandy beach between the jagged rocks and the sea. Just enough for the people here to enjoy for the space of a few hours before the tides decided to roll back in with the afternoon sun. They had started arriving in the early light of day, barely after the rising of the dawn. Men and women, lovers alone or parents dragging excited toddlers behind them.  All carrying their blankets and sunscreen, bottles of water and tiny sandwiches hurriedly made as one or the other complained about how their bathing suits had somehow shrunk over the course of the winter. None, however, expected to find the fright waiting for them on that lonely stretch of rocky coastline. Several police vehicles had blocked off the street giving the medical services personnel room to work. Not that there was much that could be done. The single ambulance, a red and white relic from three decades past, sat empty with its doors wide open waiting patiently to receive a victim who was far past any need for its service. The body had been found early that morning by Senor Marscapone who had snuck out of the house early, careful not to wake his absolute fucking bitch of a wife, to get an early start on the day’s fishing. The day before he had come home with a bucket filled with fat sea bass and he was eager to see if his luck still held. Instead as he trundled over the rocky path to his favorite spot, his tongue pressed between his lips as he managed the way with his folding chair under one arm and everything else under the other, he was greeted by what at first seemed to him a very large and very white beached baby whale washed up onto the shore. His chubby face crumpled in curiosity, he had slowly put down all he was carrying and made his way timidly over to see if the thing was still alive. By the time he had realized what he was seeing, his heart was pounding so hard that he had to sit himself down for a few minutes to get his shuddering back under control. So it was that the call to the local police came in at 6:32 that morning waking a half-awake local police operator from a pleasant daydream involving his neighbor’s busty wife and a garden hose.The victim had been identified, his relatives called, and the body loaded onto the ambulance, but the crowds still gathered around the spot. Each had their own theory, their own bit of gossip to add, each nodding their head with somber wisdom as one notion followed the next. The body had been found stripped to the waist and shoeless, his pale waterlogged flesh torn across the back and stomach where someone had taken use of a rough length of rope. Other matters concerning the state of the body were not so easily seen and not spoken of except in the barest whispers by the detectives called to the scene. Other matters that would never be discussed, mentioned, or broadcast in the local papers. Official statements would ignore those telling slashes across the victim’s skin as well as any other matters which would alarm the general peace of the town. It was an unfortunate accident they would broadly announce. A foolish morning swimmer who had misjudged the morning tides and ended up washed out by the current to drown and be returned by that same unforgiving sea.As the crowd listlessly dissolved, little else to be seen or heard since the last lonely crunch of the police vehicles as they wore their way across the gravel beach, a lone figure stood by.  He was a tall man, his muscled frame hidden by a long coat which flagged in the breeze. He had stood alone and apart, speaking to no one, acknowledging no one, keeping whatever thoughts he had unspoken and unshared.His only gesture of farewell to the memory of his… friend? No. Never that. His acquaintance perhaps… was to raise his hand through his dark hair and smirk a final farewell at a pig that had finally gotten his share of karma. He had not lived a noble life, that was for certain. His final eulogy would read of selfishness, greed, and a degree of cruelty. He had played a dangerous game and now paid the ultimate price. He had made too many bets, angered too many people, blackmailed and tortured whatever friends and neighbors he might have had. One fallen love and ruined marriage at a time. Johnny could not dismiss his own share of the blame, of course. He was Simone’s greatest weapon in his little war against marital bliss was he not? How many women, how many happy little wives, would still be chastely wed to their uncaring, brutal husbands if not for his own sport? How many had he seduced, lured, fucked, freed from their lives of bored servitude? How many would still remain married now that the threat of Simone’s little business of blackmail was gone? His cellphone already buzzed with the calls of three. Luckily none of which he had callously bedded and bred. Their husbands might well divorce one or the other for not being the pure virgins they pretended to be, but none would announce to the world his wife’s belly being filled with another man’s child. From that, thankfully, he was safe. Still the women would seek him out if not the men. With dark, thoughtful eyes Johnny looked one last time across the clouded skies of his Adriatic home. He had sensed it coming. This end of one life and the start of another. This place, this town, this region had become too small. Too comfortable. Too tedious. It was time for a fresh start someplace new, the start of new and glorious adventures. After all there was an entire world out there just waiting for him. A world filled with ripe women and warm inviting pussy. Who was he to deny them all, he thought as a wry smile crossed his face?With a last sigh he bid his goodbye to his world, his life, and too poor little Simone for whom the world had gotten far too small far too quickly.……….. End Johnny, for now ……..The gentleman that stepped out of the taxi was dressed the part. His gleaming black Oxfords matched the seriousness of his classic double-breasted suit, both tailor-made with his quiet tastes in mind. With one manicured hand he brushed his Canali tie under his suit jacket and gazed up at the overhanging sign as if to be sure he had been driven to the right spot. Once satisfied he slid the twenty euros to the driver and allowed the fellow to take his leave, but only then. The man that was left stood tall, shoulders back and squared, his frame neatly poised, hands neatly at his sides, face front, and back aching. His friends, who had finally convinced him to come here, had insisted that despite his best efforts there was no way he was going to live out the rest of his years if he did not do the unthinkable and just fucking relax. Thinking back on his entire life, relaxation was not a word he used much. From the stench of the worst poverty to the deprivations and dangers of an active-service army career, to the even more dangerous halls of his current law career… relaxation was never high on his to-do list. Yet here he was at the tender age of thirty-four with his shoulders and back a source of constant agony and his mind clouded where sharpness was a deadly requirement. To put it gently, he was a mess. The scents of honeysuckle and jasmine greeted him as he stepped through the spa doors. Thankfully there was no annoying tinned music or television news channel blaring away to upset the blessed quiet of the entryway. Nor were there any of those damned bells most business used on their doors to alert their staff to stop fucking around and get back to work. Instead at a front counter adorned with ferns, a rather thin young woman sat ready to greet him. She asked sweetly for his identification and handed him a clipboard with a friendly and efficient smile. He had heard tales of this place before the new owners took over and was more than pleased to see that his friends were not just sending him here to screw with him. The clipboard had the usual questions. Name, age, preferences, medical conditions. Of course, he had questions for her too. Who wouldn’t after all? The young woman was happy to answer what she could. Yet as it turned out that the girl had just been hired and, rather than answer some of his inquiries herself, she was happy to call her manager to the front.He only had to wait a few minutes. It was a quiet Monday morning after all and most people were either at work or still tucked in their beds, so the spa was no very busy, just as he had planned. He heard her coming before he turned, her heels making the softest noise on the carpeting as she approached. When he spun to face her with his hand extended, he could feel the tension dropping suddenly from those aching shoulders, to be replaced by a startled gasp as his body and mind froze mid-hello to stunned silence.“Good morning, Mr. Camden. My name is Chiara. I hear you have a few questions for us?”For once in his life, Joseph Camden found himself at a loss for words. The woman, Chiara she said, stood by the receptionist both wearing the same soft cream blazer that marked their employment. But that was as far as any sane comparison would go. The other girl was…well a girl, thin and gangly with legs like a young foal. Chiara was a woman in every sense of the word.  Lustrous dark hair flowed along her face, showing off the gentle curve of her cheeks as the locks traveled down across her shoulders. Her eyes, in all his life he had never seen such eyes, soft grey and smoldering with sensuality. Smiling at him with a knowing intelligence. Only accentuated by the thin sheen of her prescription glasses. Though she was fully and professionally dressed, his mind’s eye could not help but place her by his pool wearing barely enough to hide her most intimate secrets as those soft lips of hers… those soft lips…“My name is Camden, Joseph Camden.” he managed to announce, perhaps a bit too forcefully than he had meant.“Yes, I know, Mr. Camden.” his dream replied with the voice of an angel, “You have an appointment with me… I mean with us this morning. It seems you aren’t feeling well?”Perhaps he was imagining it, a hopeful trick of his mind perhaps, but the woman, Chiara she said, seemed to be genuinely concerned. Perhaps standing a bit closer than politely necessary? No. it was simply a hopeful trick of his imagination, he decided, “Well, it’s my back you see. They tell me I have to relax more. My friends that is. Told me I would like… well, that coming here would make me feel better. It seems working 24 hours a day and playing soccer the other 24 isn’t without its costs I suppose.”“Wow. I don’t meet many men with 48 hours in their day. I wonder what you do on your days off. Your girlfriend must be very lonely, umm… If there is, of course?”Did angels play with their hair as they spoke? Did their soothing eyes look at you like that? With that odd combination of fearful hope? For the life of him, Camden could not work that out past the view of her soft rose-petal lips as she spoke the words, “What? Oh! No. No woman in my life yet, I’m afraid. Those 48-hour days wear you down, you know. I suppose I’ll have to cut down a bit. Make some time for…”  “For…?” the angel said, with a playful tilt to her head, smiling as only an angel would smile with those soft doe-grey eyes. The scent of her like the brightest of Spring days.“For… well…”, he managed to stutter.“Well… well, what say we get you in a room and out of these clothes…. OH! I mean ready for your massage… I mean…” Chiara stuttered, her angel eyes wide with the sudden heat of schoolgirl’s embarrassment. “I mean… well.”“I know what you mean.” Camden replied, a flush of warmth creeping up his own neck, “Umm, would you mind showing me the way. I’m a bit new at this.”They stood there looking at each other for a while. Unnoticed the receptionist had decided to take a break, secreting herself in the spa’s tiny pantry until nature had taken its obvious course. She had not known Chiara very long and not well even at that. The woman was her boss not her friend after all. But even she could see that little nervous quiver as the woman stood there. The way they had both stood there. The looks. The hidden words. The way Chiara was stretching herself up in her heels to bring her lips that much closer to his own. Hell, it was obvious. All the two of them needed was a room and a locked door. She had the urge to call out into the hall for the two of them to get a room, then snorted out a guarded laugh when she realized that it was exactly what they were doing.Without looking away, Chiara replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll show you the way”. She reached down to take his hand but was surprised to realize that she had been holding it the entire time. Ever since he had reached out to shake her hand the moment they met. Stifling a giggle, she led him down the hall to massage room four, all the way in the back of the spa, neither one of them able to turn away from the other’s eyes.………………. End Chiara, for now …………….Night had fallen along the Via S. Pio. Outside the window a soft breeze carried with it the sound of a passing car making its way slowly along the lonely avenue. The sky was overcast with rolling grey clouds and the threat of rain had kept most people inside. In the apartment upstairs a couple had fallen asleep on their couch, their children snoring softly on their laps as their television screen bathed them in shimmering light. In the apartment below a grandmother had long since bid her children and grandchildren goodbye and settled to bed, her refrigerator now adorned with several more badly crayoned pictures of blue puppies and orange kittens. All across Venice people, most people, were asleep in their beds dreaming peacefully, enjoying the sweet scent of a Spring evening drifting gently through curtained windows. All except her own. Eleonora sat up in her bed, her head still dizzy, her cheeks still wet with quiet tears. She had tried. She had really and truly tried this time. Tried and once again failed miserably. Oh, she had pretended. She had moaned and writhed and shook herself as Berto heaved his belly between her thighs with his sweaty face bloated a ridiculous shade of crimson. She had yelped appreciatively as he came, spurting thick droplets of spunk across her belly as he grunted out her name. For a moment she was afraid he would collapse on top of her, his large belly pressing heavily into her as he leaned in awkwardly for a final kiss. His lips were thick, drooling with spit. His scent was rancid sweat from his day hauling garbage around the city. A sickly-sweet scent that even the hottest showers and the strongest soap could not wash fully away. It wasn’t his fault, she thought as she wiped a tear from her cheek with the edge of their bedsheet. He was a good man. Really. He was sweet and kind to her, offering her everything a good woman would appreciate in a man. He had taken her in when she was destitute. He had given her a roof over her head and a full belly when she could not afford to sleep in the filthiest beds on her pathetic waitress’ salary. All when the world had been crashing down upon her mercilessly. He had treated her so well, like a queen. His beautiful Eleonora who shared his bed and did the cooking and took care of his laundry as a good woman will. The same woman who took him so eagerly between her thighs and made all the right sounds as he did his very best to be the man she had always dreamed of. His smell and sweaty, rotund body doing little to make up for his less than impressive skills as a lover.Still, she had dutifully spread her legs as he lumbered his body into position, cooing her terrible need for her earthly Apollo. Tonight, just like each night before, she had tried. Oh, God in his Heaven how she had tried. She had closed her eyes, allowing her imagination to run free and wild, as he slid in and out of her each thrust accompanied by a grunt or heroic puff of breath. She had slid her hand down between her thighs, assaulting her clit savagely, tearing at her breasts with her nails, as she locked her ankles around his hips and grinding up into him like a madwoman, like the cheapest of whores. It did not matter. It was over too soon. As much as she thrust and rubbed and fingered herself until her wrist was aching and her arm ready to fall off, she could never reach that blessed height. Berto begged to come inside of her, begged to fill her with his seed and get her fat with his babies. Tomorrow she had pleaded. Next month. Next year. When their house and finances were in order. When they were ready. But secretly she suspected that he knew the real reason. Instead she made the greatest show of sucking his stubby cock dry, of rubbing his spunk into her belly and breasts as if was the most erotic sensation in the world. Even though in her thoughts she could never shake the memory of another man and a time when the act was for her truly the most erotic and wonderful sensation in the world. If only she had realized it.Carefully, quietly Eleonora slipped out of the bed. Just as she did on many nights since she had started sharing Berto’s bed. There was no real need. The man slept like a bear in winter. He slept through alarm clocks, ringing phones, knocking doors and once a car crash that had happened just outside their window. Especially after sex. A stick of dynamite would not wake him once he had shot his load and curled up into the blankets to sleep, let alone the cautious footfalls of his Eleonora making her way to their bathroom on bare feet. Only after closing the door and turning the tiny lock with the most timid of clicks did she dare turn on the light. She stood there naked, trying desperately not to see her own face in the vanity mirror. Always afraid to look herself in the eye, the accusations and bitter looks coming far too painfully from the vengeful bitch who lived in her mirror. Holding her breasts to her chest with one hand she knelt in front of the vanity and rummaged through the back, pushing aside the pads and other feminine products Berto would never dare disturb. There she found it, the flowered pink cosmetics purse that held her most valuable possession.She strained her ears towards the door to make sure Berto had not stirred. Not that she had to. The man was dead to the world by now and nothing short of a nuclear blast would wake him. Comforted by the silence, she slid her friend from the purse and stroked it gently in her hand. It was a soft pale lavender, its 8” length feeling like warm silk in her hand. It stood straight and proud, its sizeable girth ridged and veined to please the most jaded of pussies. A set of massive balls sat at its base, each silky smooth and heavy with the perfect angle to slam into a horny pussy. She could just imagine the insane gush of cum that would rise from them if they were real. The head was big and bulbous, and she had to bite down on her lip hard to stifle her gasp, the memory of the last time she took a cock this big past her dripping lips to lodge itself firmly inside of her completely stretched pussy walls.Only two buttons; an on/off switch and a function selector adorned its side along with a compartment to hold the DD batteries that powered it. The angry beast was the biggest and meanest looking she had found at the local shop. The saleswoman had said she had tried it herself and that the combination of the cunt-stuffing size and the vibrations ripping through your womb sent her eyes rolling into the back of her head, leaving her squirming helpless on the bed until her husband had come to her rescue a world of orgasmic aftershocks later. The bastard was so tuned on by the sight that he had immediately fucked the shit out of her, not even giving her a chance to recover. The incredible, hard-cocked heaven-blessed bastard!Eleonora knelt there for a long moment sliding the thing in and out of her grip. “For vaginal use only,“ the box had said. Right, like she was going to try and swallow it or something! Suddenly a small packet fell out of the box. "Personal Lubricant” it read. As she knelt there looking at the vibrator and packet of lube in front of her, she started wondering if this was such a good idea. But she was desperate, and this damned thing was her only hope. Of course, the fucking batteries had to be sealed in a childproof piece of thick plastic. What fucking child is going to buy this in the fucking first place she cursed to herself as she rummaged through the cabinet for her best scissors. Eleonora felt ridiculous standing there naked in the toilet, fighting with the heavy plastic to get at the damned batteries in the middle of the night just to power up a fake cock. As she tried to force the thin metal through the packaging the scissor slipped, and she nearly cut her fingers open as the scissors sliced across her palm. The batteries, now freed, decided to fly straight into the toilet water and sink straight into the pipes. Eleonora quickly fell to her knees and shoved her hand straight down to the elbow not even thinking about what possible excuse she could give the damned plumber if the damned things had sunk down too far. Thankfully she was able to grab both, drying them in a towel by the sink before daring to go on. As she did she tried to ignore the way her breasts hung from her chest, showing a bit more sag to them in the past few months of utter misery that she was used to, as if in imitation to the same sagging hopes she felt deep in her heart.She screwed up her courage and carefully inserted the batteries into the shaft and then sat herself solidly at the edge of the bathtub. After tearing open the packet of lube she applied the clear slick fluid to her trembling lips. Eleonora had never needed a vibrator before, Franco had always been more than willing to volunteer his own cock in place of some indelicate piece of plastic. Even so, the feel of the cold jelly on her sensitive parts made her gasp. For a while she lay back against the shower tile gently spreading the lube all over her lips and clit, enjoying the pleasurable sensations. Clearly, she’d been missing out on quite a lot in her life. She let her thoughts drift off, but each memory. Each thought of Franco or Johnny or the other men she had taken to her bed simply filled her with regret rather than arousal.“Still, it feels that good with my fingers. What must it be like with the vibrator?” she wondered. Bravely, still biting her lip softly between her teeth, she picked it up and turn it on. She had no idea what to expect. According to the woman at the shop she expected it to tear her arm off. Instead the thing sat in her hand inert, unmoving, without the slightest sign of life. She played with the buttons, loading and reloading the batteries, searching the box for some sort of instruction. The fucking thing would not surge to life. Dead. Broken. Maybe the batteries were old or just generic shit made in China. Frustrated, Eleonora banged the thing on her hip, in her palm, on the side of the sink. Anything to get the damned thing working. The fucking thing had a date to keep with her cunt for shit sake! Finally beaten, Eleonora fought back the urge to weep, sadly joking to herself that she wasn’t woman enough anymore to turn on a piece of fucking damned plastic.But what to do now? It was still a big, thick dildo and it wasn’t like a real one came with an ‘off/on’ switch. Although that would be damned useful. The packaging didn’t give much advice apart from the obvious piece on where to use it. “Come on, it can’t be that difficult! Thousands of women use these!“ she scolded herself. Maybe she was just too eager to get going. She had to just relax and try to savor the moment. She slid the massive head down along her along her clit. Fuck! It felt so damned good! Hell, she knew it wasn’t real, but it was amazing having even a fake one pressing down, threatening her lubed up slit with its confident bitch-taming size and weight. The lube was starting to warm up now, magically going from cold and impersonal to comforting and even erotic. She could feel her breath growing heavy as she ran the head up and down, up and down. She poured more lube on her fingers and alternated between sliding the dildo over the tip of her clit and pressing down on it and rubbing in circles. Occasionally she would touch on her inner lips and tentatively finger herself.She had just gotten started. Just started reveling in that lovely feeling as her petals finally began to bloom, when her imagination betrayed her. Her mind had drifted back to the last time she had felt this way. To Franco’s loving kisses as he pressed himself between her thighs. Fuck but he was like iron that night, kissing her, holding her, making those lovely little grunts, his breath hot on her face as he filled her belly with his warmth… No. No, she could not think of that. She could already feel the regretful tears running down her face, her lips quivering on the edge of a sob as that image turned to the sight of Pamela sitting on his lap. Kissing him. Laughing at her. Bearing Franco’s child in her hateful, backstabbing womb. Eleonora stopped. Her pussy felt numb. That had never happened before. Reaching over to the sink she turned the faucet for the cold water. Taking a gulp, she tasted her juices on her fingers combined with the warmed lube. It was strange and sweet, like cherries. She started imagining a tongue, a man’s tongue lapping at it, enjoying the sweet taste between her thighs. Settling back, she shook the thought of Franco and his bitch from her mind. Accidentally she glanced at the small clock which sat on the sink. It was 2:12 in the morning. She had been at this for nearly an hour. How? Fuck! The thought of her broken marriage still stung but she closed her eyes and returned to work. Trying to get things jump-started again, she began slapping her pussy with the dildo’s hard shaft feeling her clit jumping excitedly with each sudden sting. But that lovely anticipation, the flow of her juices was still missing. The romance of it all absent. "Wake up,” She muttered to herself as she slapped harder. Still nothing, then harder. She filled her head with every hard cock she had ever seen, or felt, sucked or fucked. Every hard-bodied stud that forced scream after orgasmic scream out of her as they fucked her straight into the mattress, their powerful thighs flexing, their primal needs so utterly demanding. Balancing herself on the edge of the bathtub Eleonora slid down on the rude thing, feeling every ride and curve as it violated her most intimate depths. Her jaw dropped, her eyes shut tight, as she let out a long breathless wail. She had not felt anything this big for a long time and the arrogant thing was spreading her painfully wide. It was perhaps halfway in when she had to stop and rest, letting her guts get used to its massive invader. Her thoughts flew back to Johnny and Wil, and a dozen other formidable shafts that had challenged her. Each thinking that they were too much for her to handle, learning otherwise as she battled them deeper and deeper into her starved body. The looks on their faces as they found themselves hilt-deep and gasping at her tightness. This lavender bastard would be just the same, she swore. Eleonora had taken gods between her thighs! She was not going to lose this war to a piece of fucking rubber! Clenching her teeth, she dug her nails into her thighs and bore down, taking the thing another inch, maybe two. Her thoughts turned again to Johnny’s proud smirk and she squeezed down on the thing with all her might. Eleonora bit down hard on her lip, groaning with the effort, the vision of Johnny’s face, of his powerful cock throbbing hot inside her filling her thoughts. The dildo was not impressed in the least.Quickly let memories of other studs, other young bulls that had torn into her, fucking her screaming from one mad orgasm straight into the next. She remembered their stamina, fucking her for hours on end until she was nothing more than a dripping, quivering mess at their feet. Heated, lusty voices reminding her who she was. Their goddess, their sex toy, their hot bitch, their slut. She drove herself down another inch - almost there! - and started riding it up and down. Gently at first then slowly picking up speed. The thing was doing it! Fucking her hard and deep just like she needed! It felt so fucking good! Goddess, sex toy, hot bitch, slut! Goddess, sex toy, hot bitch, slut! She repeated their words in her head like an erotic mantra. She remembered their faces, hot and lusty, gazing at her… laughing at her. God, they had laughed at her. All of them. Surrounding her in that club, her dress ruined, her hair, her face ruined with tears. They had stood by and laughed at her. Their slut! Never a goddess. Never with them. Their slut, ever and only and always their slut. And Chiara… Chiara… standing there… laughing. Smiling. Will’s hands all over her. Their echoing laugh as she stumbled away. Fleeing. Fleeing back to Franco… Franco…Franco…Eleonora had fallen into the bathtub, her meaty hips slapping against the side painfully as her sobs overtook her. The vibrator had slid out of her, rejecting her, laughing at her ridiculous attempt to recapture a feeling that no mere piece of rubber could offer. Her cunt was on fire, suddenly empty and still aching for what it could not have. What it might never have again. She attempted to rise but her hip complained, a large purplish bruise beginning to rise from her pale flesh. She could hear the vibrator laughing at her, sitting there in the tub, still glistening with the foul smell of the factory-scented lube. In a fit of unthinking rage, she grabbed it and threw it against the far wall with all of her might. The think hit the tile with a solid ‘Thunck’ and rebounded toward the open window, flying out into the night. Escaping into freedom to wreak its havoc somewhere else. For a brief moment Eleonora felt a sense of justice. The fucking thing was gone. Fine. To hell with it!That’s when she heard the abrupt crash of glass and the blaring sound of a car alarm just outside the window. Her eyes went wide in fear and she scrambled out of the tub, smashing her hand against the light switch and yanking open the door. Naked, exhausted, her cheeks still wet with tears, she ran across the room and dived under the covers praying that Berto would simply stay asleep. She buried her head in the pillows and shut her eyes, struggling to control her breath as she felt his fleshy bulk begin to shift restlessly, the blaring of the alarm rising so loud and near as to wake even him.  Go back to sleep, she would tell him. It was no matter. Just some neighbor’s problem. It would stop in a minute or two. Come back to bed, she would say. There was no reason for you to rise cursing from my side, to slide your pants on, to look for your keys.Then Eleonora started to wonder with horror just where Berto had parked his car.…….. The End… For now…… (I would like to thank my good friend, Kira-New-World, for inspiring this story. He always inspires the most amazing scenes and ideas. This story, as so many others I have written are his far more than they are mine. All I do is write them. He inspires them. I would also like to take this time to thank his lovely and very sexy wife for being his inspiration as well as his love. I happen to know that he adores her, and I thank her for making him such a happy man. I hope she also appreciates this story. I would love to write one for her, using her thoughts, her inspirations, her fantasies. It would be an honor and a privilege. Again, thank you both, may God bless you, and may you turn and give each other the sweetest of kisses as this story ends.) -- source link

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