So, ol' Jerry finally got him some steady pussy. I'd been kinda wondering about him the last year or so. I mean, he was pretty hot shit with the available females in our circle. Had the young ones dripping, and the old ones fanning themselves. And I knew he got his ashes hauled every time he went in to town. But personally I don't know how a man can stand to not have a hot hole available anytime he needs it. Lord knows, that's why I 'married' Justine.

It's worked out fairly well, even though there's been those down times: first with Jacob, then with Janelle. I couldn't fuck her during the last couple of months, and blow jobs just ain't the same thing. Then Janelle took so long to come out, and here it's been close to a month, and I still haven't gotten any pussy from her. Ain't fair. Hands and mouth just ain't enough for a real man.

Guess that's why I'm so interested in Jerry's new peice. Lally's all right if you want someone who looks like a five dollar whore. Personally, I'm a little more picky. I've always preferred the solid citizen types. Those were the ones I picked off at mall parking lots and on college campuses before I met Justine.

She'd been down in town, picking up textbooks for home schooling her six year old. I followed her out of the store, but she joined up with Ron Bellewood. I knew Ron from a few small business contacts before, and went over to be introduced. I think it's a good thing he didn't know I'd been following his sister with a mind to dragging her into my van and raping the shit out of her.

Anyway, she was lonely. We clicked. I told her I liked kids. What the hell, it wasn't the biggest lie I ever told. We made a date for the next time they came to town for supplies. When she came down, I took her right to a motel room, and she didn't protest. Her old man, Albert, had been dead for awhile, and I guess she was used to gettin' it steady. I was happy to step in and service her.

She was good, too. Plain vanilla, but I worked her around that. After a couple of hours, she was saying that she loved me. I thought about it. The Bellewoods were scary people, if you knew anything about them. But it was way good to be on their good side. I'd have business contacts, and a comfortable fuck whenever I wanted it. No waiting, no paying. Sounded good to me. So I said I loved her, too. Well, I liked her, pretty much. I was set.

And it was funny when ol' studly Jerry couldn't settle on a woman for himself. I guessed his standards were too fuckin' high. I mean, he had the choice. Practically anything with XX chromosomes that we knew, and some that we didn't know, whose families would've been hot to hook up with the Bellewoods.

But no, none of them would do. Jerry wanted somethin' special. I'm thinkin', what the fuck is he lookin' for? Pamela Anderson Lee? Traci Lords? Julia Fucking Roberts?

So he talked about findin' himself a woman outside. Just draggin' her ass back and settlin' her in as his bride. Weird shit, yeah, but it's how it happened with his mom and dad, so I guess it's normal for him. Ron's mom passed away, and his dad just snatched Jerry's mom-to- be out of some sort of tourist camp. People figured bears ate her, or she fell in a ravine, or something, and there never was much of a search. He kept her tied up till she was about five months along with Jerry, and by then she'd quit tryin to leave. They don't see any reason why the same won't work now. These people really are a law unto themselves, and lil ol' Scribe hasn't quite grasped that concept yet.

Scribe. Heeeeeeee Now that's somethin'.

She is just precisely the type I used to hunt before Justine. Clean, WASPy, middle class, doesn't make a show of herself. Kind of like she's sneakin' through life, tryin' not to be noticed.

That kind, yeah, that kind. Didn't know me and Jerry had such similar tastes. Too fuckin' bad he won't share. I know better than to ask. Hell, I'd like to keep my nuts attached to my body awhile longer. They didn't kill me over that chippie I screwed at that barbeque last summer, but I think it was a near thing. If Justine hadn't done everything but hide me under her skirts, they would have. Man, I had to kiss serious ass for a solid month to get her happy again. They still don't look at me right.

So I volunteer to run out in the cold and get the fuckin' laundry he forgot. He's such a neatnik, I'm surprised he didn't wash the shit out himself before bringin' it over to be washed.

The trail we broke over to our house if already filling up with snow. I kick my way over, and go inside, snapping on the light. It's nice and warm inside, and I take off my coat. No hurry going back I'm not much on that 'family' crap, though it's fun watching Jerry with his new toy. Fun, but a little frustrating.

The laundry is piled on the floor at the foot of the bed. I drag it up and sit on the mattress to study it. You can learn things about people from their laundry, another think I learned in my prowling days before Justine.

There's Jerry's clothes, nothing there: barely worn jeans, shirt, jocky's. I hesitate on the jockys, and give the fly a quick sniff. Nothing erotic, just checking for information. I detect a faint sexual odor. Ol' Jer had been good and hot while wearing these. That's pre-seminal fluid, if I'm not mistaken. I know, because I'm intimately aware of all my own body's reactions and responses, thank you. Don't go readin' anything sick into this.

Now, the rest of the things--there's a treasure trove. The towel, the sheet, the gown...

Ooooooohhhh, man...

There's blood smears on the back of the gown, right around crotch level. There's blood on the sheets, in the center, and the faint whitish stains of come. And the towel... Big bloches of dried, maroon blood, stiff man-come stains, and the strong, recognizeable smell of pussy juice. Lots of it.

Shit, I'm holding the linen proof that ol' Jerry literally fucked that little bitch bloody last night. We'd spoken to Ron a moment before he went to bed, and I can tell that this isn't 'cause the woman got her friend. She's over at my place right now, sittin' up straight, and not screamin' for a medic, so I know he wasn't rough enough to rip her up. So this can only be...

It's fuckin' cherry juice. It's where he popped her. And judgein' from the smells, Little Miss Maidenhead enjoyed it, too.

Damn, that is so sexy.

I don't really think about it, because this is too good of an opportunity to pass up. I just quickly unzip and haul out my cock. I pick a spot that's particularly aromatic, and give a good, hard sniff. I stiffen quickly. Then I gather gown, sheet, and towel into a wad, wrap them around my dick, and start jerking off.

The contrast of the textures stimulates me even more, and I imagine that I'm humping against her. I've got her on my lap. Her skirt is down, but my fly is open, and my hard cock is pressed up against the hot, cloth covered crevice of her sex. Just one or two layers of cloth between us. And I'm pumping up against her so hard that she can really feel it. She's fussing and trying to squirm off my lap. But I can feel the wet starting to seep through the cloth, bathing my raging cock, and I just keep thrusting till... till...

I come in my shroud of laundry, mingling my milky seed with whatever is already deposited there. I wipe myself clean, tuck myself in, and zip up, then gather up the laundry and head back to my cabin. I consider holding up the towel or sheet when I come in, and making some sort of joke about wedding nights. I mean, they used to display the sheets, to prove that the bride had been a virgin, didn't they?

I decide not to, because I'd rather not spend the next few hours unconscious.