A Not So Prim & Proper Wife Ch. 04

Her arms lay above her head as he pumped at her, the head of his shaft penetrating maybe an inch or two, at most. Tessa felt it, but it wasn't like Andre, Ofi, or even her husband. This was like her panties had given her a full front and rear wedgie. Not that she cared, for she was seeing songs and hearing colors. His excessive body-sweat coated her skin, and her body was being pulled back and forth as he thrust fore and aft, to drive as much of him into her as possible.

The vision and the realization that it had finally happened, he was fucking his prim and proper neighbor wife was too much for him, and with a loud roar, he reared back, to give a mighty, massive thrust. It caused him to fall out of her, and as he shot, the thick, sticky ropes splashed against her folds, the head of his manhood smooshing it around her labia. After several more jets of semen, and then a few deep breaths. He had his conquest, and needed to recover. Flopping forward, he landed atop the writhing woman, and heaved for air. He would take his time. Tessa would be out of it for some time yet, and Roberto knew it.

Rising, Roberto left the woman on the bed, hopped up and semi-conscious, while he got himself a drink, and recuperated. He supposed he should feel better, but somehow he didn't. So after the water, he waddled his way back to his woman, chalking up his unease to the Viagra he had popped, just to be more than ready for the woman he had lusted after for years. When he re-entered his bedroom, naked and still sweaty, he let his eyes feast on his bed, and Tessa's figure. She was lying there, mindlessly and slowly flailing about, still lost in the world of drugs, her arms and legs moving like a starfish.

Roberto started to line up for another bout of screwing the buxom blond, but decided otherwise, for the moment. He had plenty of time. So he reached for her legs, and again splayed them widely, pulling her waist to his groin. He then reached for his pecker and began to stroke himself, the drug happily helping him grow firm. Not the rock-solid of his youth, many years and pounds ago, but still enough to give him pleasure. He grinned as he watched the woman writhe; only now she writhed for him. For him! The power he had over her made his excitement grow and he began to talk dirty to her. "Yes, Mija. I fuck you always, now. You are my bitch. You come over every night, and I will give you my babies!"

The last thought was enough, as he visualized her wearing only the sheerest of negligees, and tall fuck-me heels. In his mind's eye, she was on her back, legs spread, and arms reaching to call him to her, those full, soft, ruby lips begging him to impregnate her. He shot his semen, a loud grunt coming from deep within. Rope after rope joined the rest that had laid upon her petals, and once he had most of his ejaculate on her, he took his finger and began to stuff it inside her pussy, using his thick finger to open her folds, and then slide and push some of his cum into her vagina. Her soft voice mewed as he pushed into her, and the excitement in his body then grew to be too much.

He felt it first, before it happened, a sharp burn, as his heart gave out, his body falling to his side, partially pinning Tessa under him. He gasped for air, and managed to groan out his final words. "Tessa, Mija.. I love..." and then he was gone, leaving Tessa writhing on the bed, now alone, and trapped under a man who was easily two and a half times her weight, if not more.

Lost in her own world, Tessa was left wriggling as the body lay partially atop her, pinning her to the mattress, his nude mass falling to gravity's pull. It took two hours, before Tessa began to come around, and by then, her vagina had been drying, leaving a sticky, gooey mess, the dead man's jism coating her outer folds, and her love canal, from his last act, to push his last seed inside her. As the drug wore off, she first stopped wriggling on the bed, and then she slipped into a nap. Perhaps it was only 30 minutes, but the dreams were vivid. Colors were wafting through her mind's eye, her hearing sending the most melodious song, until she started to feel pain. The pain started as a tickle, and then grew worse, until it was a sharp tickle, of sorts. The pins and needles of her arm and leg being 'asleep' awoke her, and blinking hard, she instantly knew something was wrong. The room was dark, the silence deafening, and she couldn't move her right side. She struggled to no avail, finally using her left hand to push on what was holding her fast. When she felt the flab yield to her, it became clear. She was in a man's bed, and it felt like Roberto, from her guess at the man's form.

"Lord, what has he done to me?" she muttered out, afraid of waking him, and then afraid he wouldn't move. The last she remembered, she had been at home, and was getting ready to make something for dinner. Then her eyes popped open. She had a pan of chicken with rice cooking on the stove!

"Hey! Lemme go! MOVE!" she yelled out, her weaker hand trying to roll the body off of her arm and leg. "Dammit, Roberto! I have something on the stove!" It was then she heard the wail of sirens. There were many of them, and they were growing louder, quickly.

She could hear the fire department arrive, and the various signs and sounds of their presence. Flashing lights, loud engines, shouts of directions, and then the easily recognizable sound of a door being kicked in. Only it wasn't Roberto's it was hers. She screamed.

"Help! Help me!" She screamed. Then she remembered the class she and some other women attended about how to get help if a woman was being attacked. So she screamed out "FIRE! FIRE!" and then her loudest, most shrill scream. Then again, "FIRE, FIRE!" It worked.

Soon the sounds of the front door being bashed in rang like a chorus of Angels to her ears, and she kept screaming. "Help me! Please! I'm trapped!" and the door crashed loudly as the solid wood gave way, and then the heavy boots of firefighters rushed in, along with the ghostly sounds of their breathing equipment, sounding something like an army of Darth Vaders as she continued to yell. She wouldn't give up, until she was found. That only took a short while, and the door to the room she was in burst in, followed by a fireman, and a brilliant, white beam of light from his flashlight. Playing it around the room, he was first looking for fire, and seeing none, he then played with where the feminine screams were coming from.

"Please... help me!" she begged, and she began to cry, as the fireman looked at the situation. Speaking into his radio, he said something she didn't understand, and then spoke through his mask. "Are you ok? What is wrong with your husband?"

Tessa had now gone frantic, knowing help was here to save her, and the fact she was nude, except for her pink satin robe that was caught up under her, and under Roberto's body, along with her right arm and leg, meant nothing to her. The whole world could watch her, for all she cared. Just get her the Hell out! But the question confused her.

"My husband?" she asked. She shouted, assuming the man couldn't hear her because of the mask. "He's away on business!"

That little tidbit threw the firefighter for a loop. His eyes saw a very statuesque blond woman, nude, and lying in bed with a very, very large man who wasn't moving. He had assumed he was her husband. He could hear voices and noises behind him, and he called out. "In here!" then he looked back at her.

"Then who's this?"

"My neighbor! Now get him off of me!" She struggled again, trying to push the body on her. "Something's wrong!" That had to be the understatement of the century.

The fireman didn't need to be told twice, and as help arrived, he rolled Roberto's body off of Tessa and she began to move, only to cry out sharply in pain. Her arm and leg felt on fire, and she began to cry. This was, however, something the firefighter knew how to deal with, and he took his next action, which was to get Tessa up, and he yanked a nearby robe from the ground and covered her with it. That the robe covered her like a tent, and smelled of poor hygiene meant nothing to him, and for the moment, Tessa didn't care.

The fireman cradled her in his arms easily, her skin feeling the rough fabric of his fireman's coat, as she was rapidly taken from the house, and into the front yard, where she was laid on a yellow emergency blanket. She looked around, eyes wide and she was sobbing, and then she took a look at her house. Indeed, the front door had ben caved in, and smoke was lazily wafting from the portal. Then she looked about, and realized her entire neighborhood had seen her carried out from Roberto's house, covered in his trademark robe. "Shit." She muttered through her sobs, and her head fell back to the grass. Her image of being a prim and proper wife had just been decimated.

By now, the police had arrived, and paramedics, and they went inside, charging in, and then later, slowly exiting, realizing there was nothing to do. Another pair of paramedics were tending to Tessa, taking her vital signs, and otherwise checking her over. Her chief complaint of her arm and leg were evaluated, and as time went forward, the pain lessened, with one medic gently kneading her arm, and easing the pain. He then switched to her leg, but wouldn't reach higher than her knee. To do so would have been inappropriate, and since her complaint wasn't life-threatening, it could last until she went to the hospital.

She was transferred to an ambulance, and inside, she was left alone with a police officer. Out of rear window, she could see her house, her neighbors, flashing lights everywhere, and then yellow police tape being spread everywhere, while they outlined their crime scene. They knew they had a death on their hand, and the only person who knew anything was Tessa. She was a 'person of interest' in police parlance. The officer never left her side, and then began to read her the Miranda rights she was entitled to. Since she had no idea what happened, she consented to answering his questions, but not until they reached the hospital and a doctor checked her out.

At the hospital, she was seen by nurses, doctors, and then poked and prodded. She was hooked up to machines, and blood samples taken to an extreme. Swabbed samples from her skin and genitals were taken, and part of them were given to the police, and part of them to the lab for analysis. A police woman stood by her side, now, as she was evaluated. She kept asking questions. "What happened? Where is Roberto? Can I have my phone? I need to call my husband!" All of her requests were put off for the moment, with the female officer taking a vial of her blood, and sealing it in an evidence bag, before handing it outside the closed curtain. Tessa had never felt so alone. She was at a hospital, had no clothes, had no purse, no ID, and no cell phone. A cell phone that started ringing, again, in her fire-damaged home. Unattended, alone, and behind the boarded up doorway.

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"Where the FUCK is she?" Dan bellowed to no one in his room. It was almost 2 AM to him, yet only 9:00 pm to his wife. She should be answering the phone! He left her a voicemail, his voice edgy, tense, and brimming with fury. "Tessa... I don't know where in the HELL you are, but goddammit, CALL me!"

He thumbed the phone off, and looked about his rom, cursing silently. There would be no more sleep for him this night.

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"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court. With these rights in mind, are you still willing to talk with me about the charges against you?" The female police officer was joined by another; a detective, as well as yet another uniformed male police officer. They had taken the precaution of reading her rights to her a second time, out of caution. They had a dead body, a house fire, and a semi-hysterical woman. None of this added up to, well, anything.

Falling back to her hospital gurney, she let her arm fall across her eyes, and she nodded. "Alright. What can I do for you?" She replied. To cooperate with the police was what a prim and proper wife did...

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"I don't know..." Tessa's voice trailed off.