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The Only Rules That Matter: Exploration (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

Diamanti shivered and licked her lips upon seeing them in the mirror. She loved how she looked like a wanton slut--and maybe she was?--prostrate before her god of pleasure. She gasped at the feeling of his teeth on her rear, jumping and giggling half nervously and half in play when he nipped at her. Two fingers pressed inside her and she moaned, pressing herself down onto them as he stroked her and asked if this was how she wanted to be filled. Now he was just teasing her.

John disappeared in the mirror but she could still feel him moving behind her. She shivered at the sound of his inhaling and let slip a keening mewl at the feeling of the tip of his tongue. Just the tip of his tongue. His firm but gentle hands pulled her down into a half-sitting position before he thrust his tongue deep inside her, causing her to cry out in pleasure.

"John!" she gasped, reaching down to grip his hair with one hand. What she wanted him to do was anatomically impossible, so she would just have to hope he had good stamina instead. Diamanti rolled her hips to press his tongue deeper and pulled his face more firmly against her pussy by tugging at his hair. "I want it all John," she moaned, thrusting her hips forward again. "I want you to fuck me every way you can think of, fill me with everything you've got. John...ooooh fuck me John..."

She couldn't help it. It had been so long since Diamanti had gotten attention like this from a man that she couldn't help herself as she came around his tongue. She whimpered and gripped his hair tighter but cumming didn't seem to dampen her enthusiasm for him one whit; she moved off of his face and straddled his chest, looking down at him.

"Use me like the whore I am."
 
John slid his hands over her thighs and up her sides, squeezing a little so she felt the pressure of his grip as he touched her. "Use you like the whore you are?" he murmured, licking the taste of her pleasure from his lips. Then he pulled her down to him, hands tangling in her long hair as he kissed her slowly, letting her taste herself on his mouth and tongue. "But you're not a whore," he explained, caressing her back. "If I used you like a whore, then I'd be in you and done without any regard for your own pleasure."

Gripping her rear he rolled them over, kissing her again as he did. "No, instead," he murmured, grinding his cock against her, "I plan to use you like a woman who has taken a stranger into her bed for an evening." His head slid against her slick lips, teasing her clit. Then, with a deliberate thrust, he slid himself deep into her sex. "Does that excite you?" he whispered, tracing her earlobe with his tongue. "Letting a stranger fuck you?" He began moving slowly within her, his thick shaft stretching her around him as he thrust into her. "You know nothing about me. Even my name could be a lie."

He kissed her throat now, one hand gripping her hip and the other sliding under her body to tangle in her hair. "You're no whore, Diamanti," he murmured, sighing at the delicious feel of her slippery walls gripping his cock. "A whore would expect money." A hard thrust, forceful enough to bury himself to the hilt and shake her body. "But you're spreading yourself for a stranger for free, begging him to take his pleasure in you however he wishes."
 
Diamanti moaned against his mouth, tasting herself on him and reveling in it. She allowed John to roll them over, embracing him tightly and kissing him hard. Her hips moved up to meet his, grinding against him and whimpering in need when he teased her clit. Finally, finally he was inside her. She gasped and moaned and gripped his shoulders tightly as he stretched her more than her husband ever had. God it was a relief and ecstasy just to be so filled! She shivered at his warm breath on her ear and nodded when he asked whether his being a stranger excited her.

"You know nothing about me. Even my name could be a lie."

"Then lie to me," Diamanti whispered back, "and lie with me."

John rained kisses on her throat and chest, holding her close and moving inside her as he declared that she was no whore because a whore would expect money. She gasped when he thrust hard enough to shake her and clung to him at the unexpected movement. "A slut, then," she murmured back, wrapping her legs around his waist and trying to pull him impossibly deeper inside of her tight pussy. "So fuck me like one. Take your pleasure in me...on me...fuck me until we can neither of us move for the exhaustion and the satisfaction." She thrust her hips upward. "Make me scream your name, even if it is a lie."
 
"Fuck you like a slut?" John groaned, feeling her clench around him as he said it. "Is that what you are, Diamanti? A common slut?" Her answer was a moan as he drove his length into her, fucking her with enough force to make her body bounce in the mattress. "A common slut, begging a stranger to use her as he wishes, to fuck her senseless?"

Pushing up he rose to his knees, lifting her hips clear from the bed. He stared down at her, watching her body heave with each thrust as he drove himself into her again and again. "Is thus what you want, you hot fucking slut? To get used as a cocktoy by a stranger?" The sight of her pussy stretched around his shaft as he drove into her was intixucating.

Suddenly, he stopped. "Tell me," he growled, holding himself buried in her cunt. "Tell me I'm a better fuck than your husband." One hand shifted, allowing his thumb to stroke down his glistening cock to her lips and over her clit. "Beg me to fuck you the way your husband doesn't, and keep begging me until you cum."
 
The only response she could manage were moans and sighs until he suddenly stopped. Diamanti gasped and looked up at him with wide eyes, silently pleading with him for more.

"You are, you are!" she agreed desperately before grabbing at his hips and not realizing in her desperation that she had never mentioned her husband to him. "Better your cocktoy than his wife. Please John!" She wasn't too proud to beg especially with his fingers on her clit. "I would suck your cock dry every night for a hundred years before spending one more second with him rutting uselessly on me." She dragged her nails down his chest and moved her hips, desperate to feel him moving inside of her again. "Fuck me John. Fuck me hard and deep and like he never could. Please!"
 
John's eyes half-closed, enjoying the way Diamanti begged him to fuck her, savoring the way she moved against him. "If I fuck you," he growled, circling her clit with his thumb, "I'll hold you to that promise." His eyes opened, staring at hers. "Every night, I'll be fucking that slut mouth of yours." She clenched around him.

"Oh, you like that?" he teased, beginning to rock his hips. His cock, glistening with her, began to piston in and out of her depths once more. "Like the thought of this thick cock in your mouth, of sucking my dick and tasting my cum?" Pausing, he gripped her legs and hooked her ankkes around his neck. Then he resumed fucking, the changed position letting her take him even deeoer.

"Jesus," he groaned, feeling his cock get harder and his balls tighten. "Such a... a goodm hot slut. Fuck, I'm close, Diamanti. Beg... cum on my... my dick... and beg... beg me to... to fill you... with... with my... my cum..."
 
She felt herself clench at the thought of taking his shaft down her throat, of swallowing his seed or feeling the warmth of it spill over her throat and breasts. Diamanti nodded frantically when he teased her and made a strangled noise of relief when finally John began to move inside her again. She whooped in surprise when he grabbed her ankles and hooked them around his neck before crying out in pleasure at the change. She'd never been fucked in such a position and it was more than incredible.

"Fuck me John!" she wailed, gripping the sheets tightly as he fucked her hard and deep. She felt that strange feeling in the pit of her stomach and her walls clenched again, so close to release. "Cum...cum inside me..." she panted, "fill me with...with your...oh God! Fill...me....Aaaahhh!" Diamanti arched her back, driving him even deeper inside of her if that were possible. It felt possible. With such a mind-blowing orgasm consuming every sense, anything felt possible. It was a good thing the windows weren't open or her cries of pleasure would have been heard in the street.
 
Diamanti arched into him, screaming with pleasure as she pulsed and throbbed around him. "That's... that's it..." he grunted, fucking her through her orgasm. "Cum... cum on this dick..." He gripped her ass, pulling her closer as her body pressed into his. "Fuck.. Diamanti... you... you feel... so... so fucking... good..." His own thrusts were becoming jerky and uncontrolled now, wild bucking that pushed him closer to orgasm. "I'm... I'm.... FUCK!"

He thrust into her one last time, back arching as his cock filled her as deep as he could manage. A shout tore from his lips, loud as hers had been, as his hips slammed into hers and his seed flooded her womb. Finally, spent, he shakily helped her lower her legs from his shoulders and leaned down atop her. "The lassie thought na lang till day," he whispered, kissing her softly. Then he smiled, feeling their mingled lust drip from where they lay still joined together. "Will you hold me to that?" His hand caressed her thigh, easing it up against his hip. "There are many hours yet till morning, and much more pleasure to sample."
 
Diamanti smiled and cooed as her lover leaned down over her and asked her to keep him until morning. That probably wasn't possible, but they still had hours yet. She ran her fingers through John's hair and leaned up to kiss him tenderly.

"That may be so," she purred, "but I've never had a lover quite like you. You'll have to let me catch my breath first." She chuckled, but her face dropped and she shushed him, listening hard. "Fuck!"

Diamanti pushed him off of her and scrambled out of bed, his seed dripping down get thigh. Sounds of her husband coming up the stairs threw her into a panic as she scrambled to gather John's clothes.

"He's home!" she hissed, stuffing his shirt into his hands and searching frantically for his pants. "Quickly, out the window. You should be able to go across the roofs to get to the lower levels of the city and lose him there if he sees you."
 
"That may be so," she purred, "but I've never had a lover quite like you. You'll have to let me catch my breath first," Diamanti chuckled.

"Only so that I can make you scream like that again," John replied with a grin, before she laid a hand over his mouth. Her expression changed from one of indulgence and pleasure to one of concern.

"Fuck!" she gasped, pushing him away and scrambling from the bed to begin gathering his clothes. "He's home!"

That was a problem. Yes, he'd pursued her deliberately because of her husband's attitude towards both his own wife and Diamanti, but that didn't mean he was a bastard. And he certainly had no desire to have to kill the man. So he he pulled his shirt over his head, then grabbed his pants and boots. "Quickly, out the window. You should be able to go across the roofs to get to the lower levels of the city and lose him there if he sees you."

Footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. This wasn't John's first time escaping from a potentially upset husband, so he had a good idea of the speed he needed to work at. So he pulled Diamanti into one last quick kiss, spiced by the flavor of danger, then grabbed his guitar. "He won't see me," he assured her, stepping through the window. "But I, I assure you, will see you again." With a wink and a blown kiss, he tossed his guitar and pants up to the roof, then lept and caught the edge. As his feet cleared the open window, the bedroom door opened.

"Ah, Diamanti," her husband slurred, stinking of liquor. He advanced towards her, pulling her into a sloppy kiss that tasted of ouzo. "Come to bed..."
 
John was able to hear an exchange between husband and wife. The words weren't clear, but the tone changed from placation on her part and drunken licentiousness on his to, respectively, panicked pleading and drunken rage. Below, Aristotelis's head stuck out the window having divined the only way his wife's lover could have escaped. He looked over the rooftops below before turning his enpurpled face up to the edge of the roof where he caught the last of John escaping...wearing his wife's blouse. She had accidentally thrust that into his hands in her hurry to get him to safety. With a bellow like a rhinoceros Aristotelis attempted to climb through the window before giving up and pulling his head and shoulders back inside.

There was a great bellowing throughout the house with the drunken master calling for his pistols and his sword. Diamanti didn't follow but instead stuck her head out the window and looked up to make sure her lover hadn't been so foolish as to linger on their roof. Her face was bruised where her husband had struck her. After making sure he'd gone she followed Aristotelis, pleading with him to just sober up and exact his revenge in the morning. John--or whatever his real name was--would be long gone by then. This loud pleading and louder swearing of vengeance spilled out into the street, Aristotelis disarrayed and flushed in his drunkenness and Diamanti half-dressed with her hair flying behind her. They caused quite the scene together in the street as her husband looked for the half-naked, womanly-beshirted man who had been defiling his marriage bed.
 
"The Hitchhiker"

Interstate 5, ten miles south of Yreka
1964

John downed the last of his coffee, then stared out into the evening gloom and wished he was back in San Francisco already. Not that he regretted being in Northern California, not really. The mountains rose over the road like snow-capped giants, and the view was breathtaking. But Jenny and the Black Pearl were waiting for him in San Francisco, and right now he wanted nothing but to get home.

Sighing, he reached down and fiddled with the radio. Static hissed and spat, then warbled into a recognizable tune. It wasn't his kind of music, not really - give him some bluegrass, or the Velvet Underground. But it was better than the silence and monotony of driving the empty highway.

"Movin' was hard, but I got squared away," the radio sang. "Bells started ringin' and chains rattled loud. I knew I'd moved in a haunted house."

"Mate," John replied, "I've seen haunted houses, and no way you sound like you got the stones to face that down." He paused. "Hell, I don't neither. And I've sailed with the dead for going on three centuries."

Fuck it. No way he was going to make the rest of this drive totally sober. He wouldn't get twisted - he doubted he'd packed enough booze for that - but a little buzz would take the edge off.

Night fell as he worked his way through half a bottle of Captain Morgan and the radio station had blurred and fuzzed and was now playing a passable tune from the Beatles. The cool mountain air was creating a bit of fog, just enough to force him to slow down on the curves. "Well she was just seventeen, well you know what I mean," Paul crooned as he peered into the soft-focus darkness. "And the way she looked was way beyond compare."

Movement. He had a confused impression of a figure on the side of the road, holding a sign. Without hesitating he pulled over, the leaned over to roll down the window. They were long miles from nowhere, and he wasn't bastard enough to leave someone stranded. "Need a lift?" he asked as the figure approached.
 
A girl no more than sixteen or seventeen stood on the side of the road, holding a cardboard sign that read Redding. Her white lace minidress and gogo boots were entirely inappropriate for the late night weather. The car passed her in the dark, but pulled over against the mountain wall. She was next to the driver's window more quickly than was natural, but then again it could be reasoned that after standing out there for God knew how long she was eager for a ride.

"Going toward Redding?" she asked in a tone with the pleading subtext of "please." She gave him a brief but bright smile and walked around the front of the car--where the headlights shone through her thin dress to briefly reveal her slender but shapely figure--then slid into the passenger's seat. The hem of her dress slid up scandalously high to reveal smooth, toned thighs. "Thanks," she said breathlessly, neglecting to put on her seatbelt as he started back down the interstate. "I've been standing out there for hours. My boyfriend and me got in a fight and he just left me there!"

The girl flipped down the visor to pat her hair back into place in the mirror and check her makeup as best she could in the dark. She flipped it back up and looked over at her savior. "I'm Delia."
 
"Good to meet you, Delia. I'm Jack." He eased the car into gear, trying not to stare at her long legs and firm breasts. Not because it embarrased him to be noticed looking, but because he needed to focus on driving. "Reading's on my way, so it's not a problem. You mind the radio?"

The fog had thickened, now dense enough that he needed the high beams to see the road. He didn't like it. It was too much like the mists that enveloped the Pearl when they sailed into or out of Oceanus, and he half-expected to see the faces of the lost dead staring back at him. To distract himself, he glanced back at his passenger. "You have family in Reading? Or friends? I'd hate to leave you stuck there."?

Damn, she certainly was distracting. It had been a while since he'd gotten laid, since San Diego, really. That sex club on the strip, and then Jenny on the balcony and then in the shower right before he'd left. Things had been all business on his trip to Portland, and it was all too easy to imagine Delua's long legs wrapped around his hips. He forced himself to stare back into the fog. No reason to make the poor girl think she'd have to fuck him as the price of a ride. Jack Sparrow had been a lot of things, but never a rapist.

Well, except that one time in New York. When Jenny had dressed up in a middle class skirt and jacket, and had him drag her into an alley and fuck her at knife point. But that had been for her 200th birthday, so it didn't really count. And damnit, that was not helping! "So," he said, trying to distract himself, "you from around here?"
 
Jack asked whether she minded the radio Delia didn't answer but simply fiddled with the knob for a moment. "It's no crime to spend some time in the dark and watch some prime," David Rose crooned. She remembered that song coming on the radio. How many songs had passed? She never could remember. All she knew was that Elvis was the last thing she'd heard. She noticed him glancing over at her, just like he had.

"My parents live there," she answered absently. "I won't be stuck." This all seemed so familiar. Jack asked whether she were from around here and she vaguely and nodded. "Redding," she answered. "I was in Yreka for a party." There was a long silence between them.

Delia turned in her seat to face him, the hem of her skirt sliding further up her slender thighs. "You're doing me a real solid, man," she said, sliding her hand into his lap. "I wish there was something I could do to repay you." Her had moved between his thighs and rubbed his crotch gently.

Holly came from Miami F.L.A. Hitchhiked her way across the USA...

He was a man, of course he wasn't going to stop her. Of course it didn't take much to get him up. Delia bit her lip and smiled coyly at him. She remembered this song too. Slowly she unbuttoned Jack's jeans, then unzipped them, and pulled his cock out of his boxers.

...In the back room she was everybody's darlin'. But she never lost her head, even when she was givin' head, she said hey babe take a walk on the wild side...

Delia shifted in her seat and lowered her head into Jack's lap, wrapping her lips around his shaft. Slowly she took all of him until the tip of his cock touched the back of her throat. Vibrations moved from her lips through his shaft as she moaned and slid her mouth up again to suck on his head. As her head bobbed in his lap she did things with her tongue that Jenny had only recently learned. She would have swallowed him if she could've. When she felt Jack throb in her mouth she slid her lips up his shaft, sucking on his head then releasing it with a pop.

"Why don't we pull over somewhere?" she suggested huskily, her lips brushing his sensitive skin. While she waited for him to find a turnout she moaned while she gently lapped at his cock, but made sure it was never enough to make him cum. Not yet.
 
"No need," John replied, watching her skirt ride up even higher as she shifted in her seat. "I wouldn't..." He swallowed hard as her hand gripped his dick through his jeans, rubbing and stroking him. Horny as he was, it didn't take much for her to get him hard. "You... you don't have to..." he managed as she opened his fly, and then he gripped the wheel hard as her sweet little mouth swallowed his head.

Jesus, she was good! Slow and thoroough, with a tongue that set his nerves in fire and a sexy little moan that made his toes curl. When her tongue played with the little opening at the tip, he newrly threw his head back and moaned with pleasure - really, it was only the thought of wrecking and dying in the fog thst stopped him. "Why don't we pull over somewhere?" she suggested.

Nodding, John scanned the fog. There. One of those offramps runaway trucks could pull on to. He jerked the wheel, listening to gravel crunch under the tires as the car rolled to a stop. "Listen," he managed as her tongue played iver his shaft, "you don't have to..."

Her response was to reach across him and grip the seat handle, making the back drop. The action shoved his hips up, and he had a brief view of his dick shining with saliva in the dome light. Then her lips closed on his head ince more and his back arched, offering mire if his length to Delia. "Fuck," he groaned as she swallowed him. "Fuck, you're good..."
 
"Listen," Jack began again, "you don't have to..."

She reached over and popped the seat handle, making him fall back all at once. "I want to," she insisted before taking his throbbing shaft in her mouth again. Of course she wanted to...she needed to. Something compelled her to. Delia moaned around his dick as she swallowed him But he wasn't supposed to cum yet...that wasn't how it had happened.

How what had happened?

Little Eva instructed them to do the Locomotion and Delia promptly slid her mouth back up to his head then off. She pulled down her panties from under her skirt, leaving them on the passenger's side floorboard, and moved carefully over the gear shift into the passenger's seat. Slowly she lowered herself onto him, gasping and moaning. That wasn't familiar; it was thicker for one, and he seemed more adept at knowing how to use it. With her skirt up over her hips Delia grabbed Jack's hands and slid them over her body.

"Fuck me," she begged. "Fuck me Jack..."
 
He was slck with her spit, and she was smell her arousal as she peeked her panties off, and her lips parted and swallowed him without resistance as she sank onto his aching shaft. "Fuck me," she begged, skiding his hands over her body. "Fuck me Jack..."

Normally, he liked a little more play than this. But there was something intoxicating about Deliah. The all-white outfit and sweetly innocent face that contrasted with the way she'd sucked him like a pro. "God, you feel so fucking good on me," he groaned, cupping her soft tits through her lacy dress as his hips rocked up into her. He watched her slit suck his cick as he fucked up into her. Then he gripped the hem of her skirt and pulled upwards.

"I want to see you," he growked, pulling the dress over her head and tossing it aside. She wore nothing beneath, nuthing but the thigh-high white boits. He admired her for a minute, hands exploring her bare skin before he used one hand to pull her down. His cock ground against her clit as his tongue circled her nipple. "Fuck," he gasped. "I want to see you cum."
 
This hadn't happened. He wasn't doing it right. But God he felt so good inside her! Delia let him pull off her dress and gripped the grab handle above the door, rolling her hips forward to take him whole. Her breasts bounced softly as she moved before he pulled her down. Her mouth dropped open and she cried out as Jack's cock ground against her clit. She gasped and gripped his shoulders as his tongue circled her nipple.

"Not yet," she gasped, gripping his hair as he begged to see her cum. "Not yet...aaahhh!" Delia threw her head back and slammed his length deep inside her. She hadn't cum before, and she couldn't cum now. She couldn't move on if she came now...

"I got...manners," Delia gasped between thrusts. "I want...want you to ooohhhhh...to cum first. Oh fuck! Need to feel--aahh--your hot seed inside me."
 
At that moment, with Delia riding him hard and loving it, he wanted to oblige. But that "manners" line got to him, filled him with an imp of the perverse stronger than the need to cum. "Nuh-uh," he grinned, gripping her hips and lifting. "Ladies first." God damn, but it almost hurt to feel his aching dick slide from her cunt. But he pulled her forward, her dripping slit leaving a damp trail on his button-diwn shirt. His hands hooked under her ass, lifting her a little.

The position was a little awkward. Her knees rested on the seat back on either side of his head, filling the air with the mingked scents of her vinyl boots and her muck. Her lower legs pressed into his chest, and she was bracing her hands on the fabric roof and looking down at him with confusion. Then he dragged his tongue slowly over her slit, tasting her, and his aching cock twitched in response. "Ladies first," he repeated, parting her with his tongue and sucking on her clit.

As his tongue thrust into her depths and caressed her inner walks, his hands slud up her thighs and belly to cup her breasts once more. "You're not the only one who knows a few tricks..."
 
Ladies first? Delia made a noise of surprise when Jack grabbed her ass and pulled her off of his cock and forward. "I feel so empty..." she whined, bracing herself on the roof. She peered down between her breasts, her knees on either side of his head. What was he doing? This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Delia's jaw dropped as he slid his tongue over her slit, then sucked on her clit. What came out wasn't a moan so much as a cry and she pitched forward, catching herself by bracing a hand against the back window. Jack's hands played with her breasts as his tongue thrust inside her and she bit her lip. She couldn't...not yet...not ever, or she would still be trapped.

When Jack informed her that she wasn't the only one who knew a few tricks she grinned. Maybe not, but she was certain she'd turned more tricks in her short life than he could ever dream. Her thighs quaking from denying herself what she so desperately wanted, Delia slowly sat up and bent backwards. Bracing herself with her hands on Jack's thighs she took his cock in her mouth once more. From this angle she could press it down her throat, moaning and swallowing around his thick length as he ate her out and she slid her lips up and down his shaft in the same rhythm.
 
Well. That was something you didn't see every day. Let alone experience.

Delia was bent like a bow, hands on his thighs and breasts in the air. Her hair spilled across his belly, tickling him through his shirt, and her head rolled back to swallow his cock while upside down. Experienced as he was, the display of erotic dexterity threw him off his game for a moment. His lips left her cunt as he gasped aloud, fingers digging into her hips as he felt her throat close around his head. He was going to have to get her address and phone number he decided, in a moment of lucidity in the midst of the overwhelming pleasure. Jenny had to meet Delia.

Her head moved in this awkward position, swallowing him deep and sucking him closer and closer to orgasm. He responded by nipping gently at her clit before sucking on it, sliding first one and then three fingers into her sex. Wet as she was, even four went in without difficulty. Soon, the wet sound of his tongue and fingers in her cunt matched the slurping sound of her mouth on his dick.

"God," he groaned, pulling her off his cock before he could cum. "I'm close, Delia." It was awkward shifting her around once more, and he was clearly going to need to have his shirt professionally cleaned at this point. Well, cleaned and repaired, based on the way she ripped it open to rub her bare body against his chest. They slipped around for a moment before she took him deep again, and both of them gasped aloud as her slick walls griped his cock tight. Then he gripped her ass once more, pressing her back into the steering wheel as he fucked her hard.

"Tell me," he grunted, biting at her breasts while his cock slammed into her. "You wanted my cum in you. Tell me. Tell me you want it."
 
Jack's fingers filled her, making her moan around his cock. She could feel it...she could feel it working its way nearer and nearer the surface, and she was just about to stop when he pulled her off of his cock to shift her around again. He was close...oh God but she wanted him to cum for her. Jack had lasted so much longer than he ever had. Delia ripped his shirt open and dragged her nails down his chest, leaving angry red streaks screaming down his flesh before rubbing her body against his chest.

Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you. Delia gasped as he slid inside her again and Elvis began crooning gently on the radio. It was very nearly time. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin if I can't help falling in love with you?

"Cum for me Jack," she moaned obediently. Her hands roamed his body almost desperately as he slammed into her, fucking her hard against the steering wheel. There were soft, staccato honks of the horn each time he fucked her against the steering wheel, but the road was empty; nobody would pull over for it. "Give me your cum. Fill me Jack, oh god please!"

Like a river flows surely to the sea darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be. Delia's fingers curled lightly around Jack's throat, squeezing ever so gently in a way that some men said made them cum harder and more copiously. Take my hand. Take my whole life, too. For I can't help falling in love with you.

It was with great effort that Delia held herself back in her own pleasure. Jack's climactic shout of pleasure and triumph became a strangled cry when her fingers pierced the skin of his throat as easily as would a knife. His seed filled her, causing her to sigh in relief as she barehandedly ripped out his throat, his blood gushing over her face and down her bare breasts. Delia grinned as she watched Jack fall back in the seat, clutching desperately at his throat as though he might be able to keep his precious lifeblood inside if he just tried hard enough.

Like a river flows surely to the sea darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be.

On a mountain turnout on Interstate 5, fifteen miles south of Yreka, a grey car idled. The doors were locked from the inside and its only occupant lay with his throat ripped out. A pair of white panties lay on the passenger side floorboard.

Take my hand. Take my whole life, too. For I can't help falling in love with you.
 
"That's it," Jack groaned, words jerky as he fuck Delia into the steering wheel. "That's it... gonna... gonna fuck... fuck my cum..." The low staccato honks as her ass hit the horn just made everything hotter as it announced to the world what they were doing. Her hands stroked over his shoulders and across his throat, and finally he couodn't take it any more.

"God!" he shouted as his orgasm erupted, spurting the first thick jet of semen into her. "Feell that...? I'm..." His words ended with a gasp of pain, and he watched crimson spray across her splended naked body. He grabbed at his throat, feeling the ragged tear in it. Seeing the look of triumph in her eyes as his blood spurted un time with his seed.

"why..?x he managed to ask, before his vision greyed and he collapsed.

And then he sat upright with a gasp and a jerk. The morning sunstreamed through the driver's side window, and his body and clothes were sticky with clotting blood and drying cum, and more blood streaked the dash and windshield. The doors, he noted, were still locked.

"Fuck me," John mumbled, staring at the panties. "What just happened?" Then he looked around again. "And how the hell do i get this clean?"



Interstate 5, ten miles south of Yreka.
1983

It had taken a while to piece the details together. A young woman named Delia Bailey, last seen in a white mini-dress, was the star of an unsolved missing persons report from 1962. And there were stories of a ghostly hitchhiker in white, stories that said those that picked her up were never seen again.

John and Jenny had tracked the killer, finally running him down in 1973. Jenny had taken a particular and vindictive pleasure in chaining him into the Locker. But then duty called, and they had just now returned to California. And now he drove once more through thickening fog, seeking the ghost of a murdered hitchhiker.

There. Up ahead. He pulled over at the sight of a figure in white, listening to his wheels grate in the gravel as he stopped. Rolling down the window, he looked out. "Need a lift?"
 
A girl no more than sixteen or seventeen stood on the side of the road, holding a cardboard sign that read Redding. Her white lace minidress and gogo boots were entirely inappropriate for the late night weather. The car passed her in the dark, but pulled over against the mountain wall. She was next to the driver's window more quickly than was natural, but then again it could be reasoned that after standing out there for God knew how long she was eager for a ride.

"Going toward Redding?" she asked in a tone with the pleading subtext of "please." She gave him a brief but bright smile and walked around the front of the car--where the headlights shone through her thin dress to briefly reveal her slender but shapely figure--then slid into the passenger's seat. The hem of her dress slid up scandalously high to reveal smooth, toned thighs. "Thanks," she said breathlessly, neglecting to put on her seatbelt as he started back down the interstate. "I've been standing out there for hours. My boyfriend and me got in a fight and he just left me there!"

The girl flipped down the visor to pat her hair back into place in the mirror and check her makeup as best she could in the dark. She flipped it back up and looked over at her savior. "I'm Delia."

"She's watching and waiting. (Oh here she comes.) She's a maneater!" Hall and Oates declared as they faded out. An old song replaced it on the radio station that never played oldies.

There was a long silence between them as the song played through and another one came on. Delia turned in her seat to face him, the hem of her skirt sliding further up her slender thighs. "You're doing me a real solid, man," she said, sliding her hand into his lap. "I wish there was something I could do to repay you." Her had moved between his thighs and rubbed his crotch gently.

Holly came from Miami F.L.A. Hitchhiked her way across the USA...

He was a man, of course he wasn't going to stop her. Of course it didn't take much to get him up. Delia bit her lip and smiled coyly at him. She remembered this song too. Slowly she unbuttoned Jack's jeans, then unzipped them, and pulled his cock out of his boxers.

...In the back room she was everybody's darlin'. But she never lost her head, even when she was givin' head, she said hey babe take a walk on the wild side...

On the back seat was a newspaper. 15TH VICTIM FOUND DEAD IN TRUCK! THE I-5 BUTCHER STRIKES AGAIN! it declared. Delia didn't notice; she was busy lowering her head into Jack's lap and reaching up to slip her dress to off her panties.
 
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