CHAPTER ONE

 

"Morality," Warren Estragon said as he passed the bottle of bourbon to his friend.

Bill Guildenstern took the bottle, lifted the opening to his lips and poured a great quantity of the alcoholic substance down into his throat. He winced at the searing pain and then looked at Warren. "What about it?" Bill asked.

"It's bullshit," Warren replied, "that's what about it."

Bill wiped his mouth and handed the bottle back to Warren. "First of all," Bill remarked, "so what else is new? And second of all, who cares?"

"You should care," Warren pointed out.

"Why?"

"Well, look at your circumstance. Look at our circumstance. Here we are sitting on the steps of this run down, crummy apartment house. And all we're doing is guzzling down this fuckin' bourbon and daydreaming about what it would be like to fuck a really beautiful woman instead of these fat, drugged out pigs that we grab onto every once in a while. And then every once in a while we see some guy pass by in a really expensive sports car with some blond with big tits in the passenger seat. And the broads always look like they just gave the guy a really great blow-job."

Warren slurped down a long shot of the bourbon.

"Yeah, so?" Bill prodded his old buddy. "So what's morality got to do with all of that?"

"It's very simple," Warren replied. "You see, we can't really do anything about changing our circumstances because we're slaves to morality. But I say, what kind of justice is there in morality? Why should we just accept our circumstances, huh? Why should we? If we're deprived of something then why shouldn't we just take it by force if we're able? Why should that guy who's passing by us have that beautiful blond and that car and all of that money? Because God decreed it? That's bullshit. Because it's in the cosmic order of things? That's even a bigger load of bullshit. No, Bill, there's absolutely no reason why we shouldn't just take what we desire by force if we can get away with it. There's no reason for us to be slaves to morality, who's to say, anyway, that it's morally right for one individual to obtain the same thing we desire when we can't obtain them?"

Bill burped loudly "Nobody says it," Bill remarked. "That's just the way thing are. There ain't nothin' you can do about it except flap out some more hot air and drink down some more fuckin' bourbon. Hand me that bottle, Estragon."

Warren handed the bottle of booze to Bill and he began drinking voraciously. Then Bill handed the bottle back to Warren. "You're wrong, Bill," Warren said, "there is something which I can do about it. Something which we can do about it. I got a plan all worked out."

"Yeah? Well, what the fuck, let me hear about it. Might as well. It'll help fill up the time."

"Okay. Well, you remember last week when I got this job helping deliver pianos."

"Yeah, I remember. The people down at the employment service wanted to rope me into that too. But that kind of work is just too hard to take seriously."

"You're not shittin' about that," Warren replied. "My fuckin" back was practically breaking from doing that shit. Well anyway, we delivered this one piano up at this really big house up in this' really rich town called Bedford Hills up in Westchester. Man, you should have seen that place. It was so filled up with painting and sculptures and antiques and stuff like that, that it was like a museum. In just one comer of their living room there must have been stuff worth more money than you and I together have seen in our entire lives."

"I must admit that's a repugnant thought."

"No shit. But here's the thing. The woman who lived there was this really gorgeous blond with a body that gave me a hard-on just to look at her. And that's after I been bustin' my balls all day. Well, as me and these two other guys are draggin' the piano up the stairs, heavin' and sweatin' like a bunch of fuckin' mules, this rich bitch is just standing there by the landing talking to this friend of hers as if we didn't even really exist. And this friend of hers was a real kout too. She was a brunette with the sexiest lips I've ever seen in my life."

"Are you gonna' drink that bourbon?" Bill inquired.

"Huh? Yeah."

Warren took a long slug of bourbon and returned the bottle to Bill who proceeded to do the same.

"Well anyway," Warren went on, "I heard what these two snooty broads were talkin' about. The blond was saying that her husband was going to go away for a week on a business trip and since the other broad's husband was also going away maybe she should come over with her kids to this house and they could stay together. The brunette said that was a really good idea and she agreed."

"They said that right in front of you? Let you know that their husbands were going away?"

"Yeah," Warren answered. "As if they actually thought that me and the other two guys were so stupid that we wouldn't even be able to understand their words. Like they were speaking a different English language from people like us."

"Most of those guys who come out of that labour pool can't speak English," Bill pointed out. "God knows where they come from."

"Well, I can speak English," Warren replied. "And I don't care much for people who think that I can't."

"Yeah, yeah," Bill replied. "So, what's your big idea?

"Well, don't you see? Here's these two beautiful broads all alone in this house that's like a treasure palace. It's a perfect set-up. We can go up there, rape the broads and then loot the house. We get what their fuckin' husbands are now getting. We get to fuck the kinds of women we've always dreamt of fucking and we even make a profit out of it. What could be better?"

"There might be something better."

"Yeah, but this is a good idea, isn't it?"

"I detect a certain spark of inspiration behind it."

"You still got that gun you always used to carry around?" Warren asked.

"Yeah, but I keep it in my room now."

"And I still got mine. And I know where we can steal a really nice new car. There's this parking garage on Forty-Fourth Street where the attendant always leaves the place deserted in the afternoons while he goes out to score some junk. And all the cars still have the keys in them. We just go over there, grab a Cadillac or something and head up to Bed- ford Hills. This way we can cruise around that town without anybody looking at us funny."

Bill took another slug of the bourbon.

"Well, what do you think?" Warren asked.

"Estragon, this is a desperate measure."

"So, tell me we're not desperate men. Well, I'm sick and tired of quietly accepting my desperation. Why the fuck should I? And why should you? Look at it this way, man. We ain't got nothin' to lose. Not a single, fucking thing. Face it, Guildenstern, we got nothin' left to live for. You and me are just waiting for death to come. So, why the fuck shouldn't we try to have a good time in the meantime?"

Bill studied his friend's eyes and his face. "You're really going to do this?" Guildenstern asked. "You're really going to be able to pull this off?"

"Yeah."

"You won't change your mind when you sober up?"

"I admit," Warren replied, "that I probably won't go through with it if you won't go along. But if you do then I definitely will. I mean it. Why the fuck not?"

"Why the fuck not indeed," Bill concurred.

"Then you're in on it?"

Bill poured some more bourbon down his throat and then he pondered for a few moments.

"Sure," he finally responded. "I'll go along. Maybe the time has come for me to do something totally insane. Maybe that's the answer."

"Of course it is," Estragon told his friend.

 

The butler carried James Partdell's luggage out from the Partdell mansion in Bedford Hills and set the suitcases down by the edge of the large, semi-circular driveway. The chauffeur then picked up the suitcases and brought them over to the open trunk of Partdell's black limousine. The butler walked back into the mansion and went back upstairs. He knew that the master would want to be alone with his wife when he said goodbye to her.

James Partdell looked out the front door in order to check on the weather. It was perfectly bright and clear so there was no chance of rain delaying his fling. He turned around and looked at his wife. She was bearing his open great coat, spread out in front of her and the sight of her lovely, slightly pale face and her shiny, blond hair above the huge, black garment was very erotic to him. As she came close he placed his hand at the back other head, drew her face to his and kissed her on her soft, cool lips. He slid his lips from side to side along the slick, lipstick coated surface of his wife's lips. Then she pulled her face away.

"Just let me get this coat on you, James," she chided him. Partdell turned around and his wife slipped the sleeves over his arms. Partdell pulled the coat around himself and then turned to his wife again. Since he would not see his most cherished wife for a week he carefully studied her now.

Barbara Hartwick Partdell was wearing a tight fitting red dress which distinctly outlined her slim and voluptuous body. He recalled now how he used to laugh at her constant dieting but now, as he considered all the women her age who were already losing their figures, he was extremely grateful for his wife's vanity. She had the kind of body which was worth killing for.

Partdell reached for his wife with both his hands. He placed his right hand over her full, firm left breast and his other hand he placed over her pubic region. He rubbed his wife's breast all over while he gently squeezed her vulva. She peered very directly into his eyes with her large and fantastic violet eyes and she smiled. Her thin, dark eyebrows raised up slightly.

"God, I'm going to miss your remarkable cock," she said, as she fondled the huge, quivering lump within the crotch of her husband's pants. She drew her thumb and forefinger along the length of Mr. Partdell's hardened shaft. His cock now extended all the way down his pants leg and the meaty organ pushed out against the smooth material as if it were about to tear right through.

Mr. Partdell uttered. "Oh Christ, I don't think I'm even going to get out of here."

He leaned his face forward and kissed both of his wife's blue coloured eyelids.

Then he brought his hand up beneath his wife's tight, red skirt and placed it just above her knee. As he ran his palm up along Mrs. Partdell's sleek, stockinged legs, he had to strain against the clinging material in order to insert the lower portion of his arm.

"This fucking skirt," he commented. But at last he moved his hand up to the bare, smooth skin other thighs, just above her stocking. He ran his hand up along his wife's thighs until he felt the silky material of her panties. Then he grabbed the crotch of Mrs. Partdell's panties and tenderly squeezed the hairy mound within.

"Oh, James," Mrs. Partdell cooed as she pinched the tubular bulge beneath the material of his pants leg and placed her head on his shoulder. "Stick your finger into my slit, James. I love it when you do that."

Mr. Partdell was only too happy to oblige. He slipped his index finger beneath the edge other panties where it lay across her thigh and moved it through her nest of damp pubic hairs and across the thick ridge of her cunt lips until he found the mouth of her cunt.

Mr. Partdell stabbed his finger into his wife's pussy and rotated his finger upon the wet, membranous tissue inside. Barbara's twat swelled up and began to quiver uncontrollably. Pussy juice oozed out of her cunt and drained down along her husband's finger. As he continued to finger-fuck her a highly audible squishy sound came from between her trembling thighs.

"James," she whimpered, as she dug her fingernails into his shoulders.

Mrs. Partdell squirmed her cunt all about and thrust her hips to and fro so that her slippery quim travelled up and down along her husband's extended finger. She moaned softly and gasped for air as a constant stream of hot cunt juice flowed out of her dank slit.

Once again she whimpered, but this time in a more guttural tone, "Oh, James,"

And then her body shuddered spasmodically and she collapsed against her husband's body. She wrapped her arms around his chest and James pulled his finger out from her cunt and held her tightly.

But Mr. Partdell's cock was still very hard and very hot. He pressed the pulsating bulge within the crotch of his pants against his wife's thigh and she reached down and gently rubbed his engorged shaft. His prick went wild and began to consistently heave against the upraised material of his pants leg.

Mr. Partdell placed the palm of his right hand on top of his wife's head and pressed down. For years, this had served as a wordless signal between them that he was very much in the mood for fellatio.

Barbara looked up at her husband and smiled.

"Is there time?" she asked. "You've got to make your flight."

"Give me one of your special quick ones," he replied. "Under the circumstances it'll have to do."

"We'd better go into the dining room," Mrs. Partdell suggested. She took her husband's hand and led him over a set of vented, wooden doors. She pushed the doors open and the two of them walked into the spacious and elegant dining room. Mr. Partdell closed the doors and his wife switched on the chandelier and turned the knob until she had adjusted the light to a romantically dim illumination.

Mrs. Partdell walked over and passionately kissed her husband on the mouth. She slowly lowered herself to her knees and as she did so she dragged her wet lips down over his neck, his chest and his belly until she reached the mountainous bulge in the crotch of his pants. She placed her lips onto the tubular lump and kissed her way to the head of his cock. Then she moved her face between his thighs and gingerly kissed James's balls while she fondled them with her fingertips.

And then she went for his zipper. She grasped the latch between her thumb and forefinger and pulled it all the way down. She unbuttoned his pants and began to pull them down and as she did So James peeled his underpants down to his thighs. Barbara let her husband's pants drop to his ankles. Mr. Partdell's hefty slap of masculine meat stood out straight and stiff as a board. The head of his mighty instrument was coloured a bloody red and it was astoundingly broad. His piss-slit continually flared out so that it became wider and wider.

Barbara leaned forward and parted her red, glistening, luscious lips. Her tiny, ivory white teeth were bared and as Mr. Partdell watched her she appeared to him like a baby shark, before its teeth have become pointy. She placed her mouth over the head of her husband's cock and moved herself downwards until she had taken in about another two inches of his thick staff. Then she pulled in her cheeks, tightened her lips upon the stretched skin of Mr. Partdell's pole and slid her lips all the way downwards until his prick had completely vanished within her beautiful face. The tip of her nose pressed into the skin of his lower belly and his extensive pubic bush brushed against her face.

Her chin was pressed into the space between his balls.

Suddenly, Mrs. Partdell proceeded to suck upon her husband's cock so rapidly and furiously that she took on the appearance of some kind of suctioning machine. Her lips flew up and down along the length of his erect organ and Mr. Partdell watched his penis constantly disappear within his wife's mouth and then appear again. He just remained still and joined his hands together around the back of her head. Mr. Partdell detected a spark of sensuous heat beneath the base of his balls and the speck grew and grew until it became a ball of fiery ecstasy. The muscles within his groin violently constricted and searing flame shot through the length of his extremely sensitised pole.

"Jesus Christ!" Mr. Partdell screamed. As he shot his tremendous load into his wife's sweet mouth he whined like a hungry baby and thrust with his hips back and forth so that he pounded his enormous cock in and out of his wife's lips.