Chapter 3: Kitchen Creampie
The truck’s headlights washed over a peeling white farmhouse, its windows dark and vacant like dead eyes. Zeke killed the engine, and the sudden silence was a physical weight. Teri shivered, the cold night air raising goosebumps on her exposed skin where Zeke’s seed was already cooling, sticky on her inner thighs.
Jed slid out first, his boots crunching on gravel. He came around, opened her door, and hauled her out by her arm. Her jeans, still tangled around her ankles, tripped her. She stumbled forward into him, her face pressing against the damp denim of his shirt. He smelled of sweat, tobacco, and her.
“Easy, girl,” he chuckled, holding her upright. “Night’s young.”
Zeke unlocked the sagging screen door, then the wooden one behind it. It swung inward with a groan, revealing a dark interior that smelled of damp earth, old grease, and something faintly sour. He flicked a switch. A single fluorescent tube buzzed to life above a large kitchen table, its flickering light casting harsh shadows across pine-paneled walls.
It was a time capsule of neglect. Yellowed recipe cards were tacked haphazardly beside a calendar frozen on a month from three years prior. A rust-spotted percolator sat on a chipped Formica counter next to a sink piled with unwashed dishes. The linoleum floor was worn through to the subfloor in paths to the fridge and the door.
“Home,” Zeke announced, his voice flat.
He walked to the counter, pulled a half-empty bottle of bourbon from a cabinet, and took a long pull straight from the neck. He offered it to Jed, who drank, then shoved it toward Teri’s face. The smell was sharp, medicinal. She turned her head away.
“Suit yourself,” Zeke grunted. He set the bottle down with a thud and turned, his eyes landing on her, disheveled and half-dressed in the unforgiving light. “Get them clothes off. All of ‘em.”
Teri stood frozen, her arms crossed over her chest. The reality of the place, the grim, lonely squalor of it, cut through the whiskey-and-adrenaline haze. This wasn’t a party. This was something else.
“I…” she started, her voice a dry whisper.
Jed didn’t wait for protest. He moved behind her, his hands rough on her waist, and yanked her jeans and panties the rest of the way off. They pooled at her feet. Then he grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it up and over her head in one swift motion. She stood naked in the center of the kitchen, the fluorescent buzz the only sound for a long moment. The air was cold on her skin, on her lasered-bare pussy, making her already-prominent inner lips shrink slightly, though they remained a dark, fleshy frame to her sex.
Zeke’s gaze was an appraisal. He walked a slow circle around her. “Look at that,” he muttered, more to himself than to Jed. “Clean as a whistle. And them tits…” He stopped in front of her, his rough hand coming up to cup one of her breasts, his thumb scraping over her nipple. It tightened painfully under his touch. “Real. Nice handful.”
Jed, still behind her, ran his palms over her ass, squeezing. “Prime cut,” he agreed, his breath hot on her neck. “Table?”
“Table,” Zeke nodded.
Jed’s hands moved to her shoulders, applying downward pressure. “Bend over. Hands flat on the table.”
Teri’s muscles resisted, locking in a final, futile spasm of defiance. Zeke saw it. He stepped close, his face inches from hers. The smell of bourbon and chewing tobacco was overwhelming.
“You walked in here,” he said, his voice low and devoid of all the false joviality from the bar. “You got in the truck. You sucked my thumb. You swallowed his load. You ain’t a guest. You’re a hole. Now, bend the fuck over before I decide this ain’t fun anymore.”
The coldness in his eyes broke her. A sob hitched in her throat, but she stifled it. She turned, placed her trembling hands on the cool, sticky Formica, and bent forward from the waist. The edge of the table dug into her hips. Behind her, she heard the sound of belts unbuckling, zippers lowering.
The Viagra had done its work. Jed’s cock, when it pressed against the cleft of her ass, was rigid as iron, hotter than his skin had any right to be. Zeke stood beside the table, working his own thick length in his fist, already fully hard again.
“Goddamn,” Jed breathed, using the head of his cock to nudge her outer lips apart. They were slick again, her body betraying her despite the fear, responding to the sheer dominance of the act. He didn’t enter her. He rubbed his shaft up and down her slit, smearing her own wetness and the remnants of Zeke’s earlier release. “Listen to that. Soaking for it.”
Zeke moved then. He positioned himself directly behind her, his hands replacing Jed’s on her hips. His grip was vice-like. “Wider,” he commanded Jed.
Jed used his thumbs, pulling her apart, exposing her completely to the flickering light. Zeke spat into his palm, slicked himself, and without another word, drove forward.
The penetration was a blunt, shocking invasion. He was thicker than Jed, and the previous use had done little to ease the way. Teri cried out, a sharp, pained sound that echoed in the empty kitchen. Her fingers scrambled for purchase on the slick tabletop.
“Fuck yeah,” Zeke grunted, sinking to the hilt in one relentless push. His pubic bone ground against her ass, his coarse hair scratching her sensitive skin. He held there, buried inside her, letting her feel every inch. “There it is. That’s Daddy’s cock. Feel it in your guts.”
He began to move, a slow, deep, piston-like rhythm that shook the table. Each withdrawal was almost complete, each thrust a hard, bottoming slam. The sound of flesh impacting flesh, wet and loud, filled the room, punctuated by his ragged grunts.
Jed watched, stroking himself, his eyes fixed on the point where Zeke disappeared into her. “Look at those lips,” he hissed, fascinated. “Goddamn. Swollen up like two little cock-sleeves. Wrapping right around him. Sucking him back in.”
It was true. With each of Zeke’s thrusts, Teri’s engorged inner lips were tugged outward, then swallowed up again as he plunged deep. The obscene, glistening spectacle of it seemed to drive Zeke wilder. His pace quickened, becoming less rhythmic, more frantic. One of his hands left her hip and came down hard on her ass cheek. The slap was a sharp crack. Teri jolted, a new burn layering over the deep, internal friction.
“You take it,” Zeke snarled, hitting her again on the other side. “You take this fucking cock, you little roadside slut.” His voice was losing its coherence, dissolving into guttural sounds. “Gonna breed this cunt. Gonna pump it full.”
Teri’s world narrowed to the pounding in her core, the sting on her skin, the creak of the table legs, the buzzing of the light. Shame and a twisted, degrading pleasure coiled together inside her, each thrust hammering the mixture deeper. She was crying silently, tears dripping from her chin onto the table below, even as her hips began to push back against him, a involuntary reflex seeking friction on her clit.
Zeke felt it. “That’s it,” he panted. “Fucking want it. Admit it.”
He fucked her harder, faster, his body slamming into hers with a force that pushed her forward on the table. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, sure to leave bruises. His breathing hitched, turned into ragged groans.
“Gonna cum… gonna cum right in this used-up little…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. With a final, brutal drive that knocked the breath from her lungs, he buried himself to the root and held. Teri felt the hot, pulsing flood deep inside her, a violation that was somehow consummating. He jerked through his release, grinding against her, milking every last drop.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of his heavy breathing and the fluorescent buzz. Then he pulled out with a soft, wet sound and stumbled back a step.
Teri remained bent over, spent, feeling the immediate leak of his semen down her inner thigh. Her whole body trembled.
Jed stepped up immediately, his cock prodding her slippery, stretched entrance. He was achingly hard, throbbing against her.
“My turn,” he breathed, his voice tight with need.
But Zeke, wiping his brow with the back of his arm, shook his head. “Not yet.”
Jed’s face contorted in frustration. “What? The fuck you mean?”
Zeke nodded toward Teri. “Look at her. She’s done in. Makes it no fun if she just lies there. Let her… recuperate.” He fixed his pants, a cruel, calculating glint in his eye.
He walked to the sink, ran the rusty water, and splashed his face.
Jed swore under his breath but didn’t argue. He gave Teri’s ass a resentful squeeze, then tucked himself away.
Teri slowly straightened, her legs nearly buckling. She tasted salt from her tears. The linoleum was cold under her bare feet. She saw the dirty imprint of her hands on the table where she’d gripped it.
Zeke turned off the faucet and looked at her, his expression unreadable. “Get dressed,” he said, his voice once again flat, commanding. “You’re gonna need your strength.” He walked to the back door, unbolted it, and gestured into the pitch-black night beyond. “The barn’s warmer. We got all night to be… hospitable.”