Down at the Twist and Shout Ch. 04

Johnny lapped at her, enjoying the taste of her, dizzy with the scent of her arousal and horny beyond belief; his instincts were to yank her legs apart and jam himself into her, but he was in complete control of his instincts. They'd played this game before, and he wanted to pleasure his girl, to play with her, to tease and gently torment her, because when they did finally make love, it would be, like every time they did this, a truly next-level experience.

Licking, kissing, probing deeper and longer with his tongue, he slowly worked-up the sleeping girl, her increasingly outthrust buttocks making it easier for him to probe and tease, while her hands clenched and unclenched as what he was doing to her worked its way through her and into her dreams.

When he heard her gasp, he grinned happily as he bored in even more firmly, holding her smooth thighs apart while her pelvis writhed and danced. Her hands found her breasts, fast asleep though she was, tugging and squeezing her stiff nipples as dream-state merged with reality, her body telling her that dream sex was becoming real. Johnny saw this, how close she was, and slid two fingers into her damp and fragrant pussy.

Justine's eyes snapped open as the shock of orgasm powered through her, a wail of purest ecstasy escaping her lips as she rode the crest, eyes squeezed tight-shut and tears like tiny crystals glimmering on her eyelashes as she tugged and squeezed her nipples even more frenziedly, rolling her climax on and on, while Johnny, all pretense of subtlety dropped, jammed his mouth against her damp and dewy pussy as hard as he could, rasping his tongue against her clitoris and jolting her into yet another wave of almost unbearable pleasure. Another wail, louder, harsher than the first burst from her lips as she shuddered and trembled, caught in the huge bow-wave of pleasure that crashed through her, swamping her senses with pulse after pulse of hot delight.

As the tremors and aftershocks of release trembled and swirled inside her, Justine became aware of Johnny still poised above her, his lips kissing her back, between her shoulder-blades, the curve of her neck where it joined her shoulder, soft, delicate nibbles that woke a storm of gooseflesh all over her skin, still sensitive as it was after such a massive climax.

More obvious even, was the feel of his thick cock pulsing in the cleft between her buttocks, the flesh hard and hot, ready for release of its own. Without thinking, Justine reached behind her to encircle his shaft with her fingers, squeezing and gently fisting him, rubbing the seeping, glossy tip of the shaft around her velvety anus, her movements becoming more insistent with every stroke of his cock.

"You-all sure you want to go there, Minou...?" Johnny whispered, "You don' have to baby girl, I'm jus' happy you wan' me 'tall! We c'n do this 'nother time, baby, ain't no rush!" he breathed. Justine grinned at the concern in his voice.

"I know I don't have to Johnny-Bear, but I want to; every part of me owns every part of you, and everything I have is always only for you; I want this, baby, I want you to have me like this, I want you to always want me like this, and any other way you want; we're us now, Johnny-Bear, not just me and you!"

As she spoke, Justine stuck her bottom out even as she pulled her buttocks apart, showing him her tightest hole, slicked and lubricated with his pre-cum as it winked at him.

Johnny pushed forward, easing himself into her millimetre by millimetre, ready to pull back at the first sign he was hurting her, but if he was, Justine showed no sign of it, only her lip caught sexily between her teeth as his thick cock slid slowly, unstoppably into her most secret place, until he could go no further, buried to the hilt in her tight, hot anus.

"That wasn't so bad!" she grinned, flexing her internal muscles and squeezing him for a second. Johnny's eyes almost popped out of his head at the sensation; his cock was already squeezed into her glove-tight behind, the velvet grip holding him more firmly than anything ever had before, and the added pressure almost made him shoot his load there and then.

"Don' do that, Minou...jes' please, don't..." he murmured, lost in contemplation of the sight of his fat cock buried inside the taut, firm little bottom, her anal ring stretched obscenely tight and glistening around him; that sight alone was almost enough to make him lose it, and he didn't want that; if they were going to do this, like this, he wanted to savor the experience.

"Well, Bayou-Boy; you gonna fuck me or stare?" taunted Justine, just loud enough to jar him out of his mesmerized gaze at the sight before him, followed by a gasp as he slid himself almost out of her, then pushed back in, watching her globular buttocks quiver as he reamed her tight ass. His hands slid up her waist, to cup and squeeze her small, perfect breasts, pulling her against him as he increased his pace, jamming himself into her harder and harder with each thrust while Justine moaned and squealed and gasped with each stroke of his cock inside her.

How long they strained and hammered together in such a primitive, primal, taboo way neither knew nor cared; the sex was all, two lovers coupling frenziedly as though their lives depended on it.

At some point they had risen up, and now Justine was sitting astride her kneeling man, his hands clamped firmly around her breasts as she rode him as hard as she could, her hands locked behind his neck to give herself greater leverage as she slammed herself up and down on his straining cock, slipping him almost out and then back into her as she rode him, both of them lost in their own world of sexual bliss.

Justine could feel him shortening his stroke; her Johnny was almost there, just a little more, so she began muttering, demanding, telling him what she wanted.

"That's it, baby, give it to me, fill my ass, fill it up, make a baby in me, Johnny give me an ass-baby, breed me, Johnny-Bear, breed your little sister's ass, cum in me and fill me, do it, do it DO IT!!"

Johnny lost his last shreds of control at his sister's words, his body going rigid as every single muscle froze, locking him in place with his cock swelling to jam inside that impossibly tight place as spurt after spurt of sperm gushed and blasted out of him and deep into Justine's tight little ass, doing what she'd asked for, pumping his seed deep inside her ass, breeding her the way she'd demanded.

At the feel of his cock jamming and pulsing deep inside her, Justine too froze, orgasm once more blazing through her, blinding and deafening with its intensity, what felt like every muscle and tendon vibrating like harp-strings, each one tuned to a subtly different note, blending into one great, swelling chord, an upwelling of unbearable pleasure from deep in the bedrock of her.

Justine slumped forward and would have collapsed bonelessly if Johnny hadn't had his arms around her, holding her to him as every last drop of his seed pulsed, and finally slowed to a trickle inside her. All he could do was hold her up, too dazed and mind-shattered by what had just happened to fully connect yet with the real world, only held upright by instinct.

As his head cleared he finally released his grip on her, allowing her to relax as he followed her down, his cock still tightly clasped in her anus. When he started to withdraw, Justine gasped and whined, her limbs twitching and shuddering in time to the mini-orgasms whirling through her again, curling and uncurling in a dance of pleasure and pain, bringing back to her some of the mind-searing intensity of what had just occurred.

They lay in silence for long minutes, hearts slowing and lungs working more and more normally as sense and cognition slowly returned, until Justine mustered enough energy to smile happily at him.

"Whooo, Johnny, what did you do to me?" she quavered, still too mind-blown for anything smarter or sassier, and Johnny, his mind equally scattered, could only gather her closer and kiss her neck, her shoulders, the base of her throat, and the shallow valley between her small, firm breasts, his kisses calming her, and him, collecting his thoughts and feelings after such a cataclysmic orgasm.

Johnny smiled happily, struggling to remain awake after such a huge expenditure of energy, his arm cuddling Justine to him even as the tiredness ebbed, and strength flowed back into him. He grinned at her, once more fast asleep, tired-out after such an energetic session, checked the time, and slid carefully out of bed; while Justine slept he wanted to think about their next move and a cool shower would help him gather his thoughts. Just as he stepped into the shower, Justine slipped in next to him.

"Hi Hot-shot, what's the plan for today?" she grinned, pinching his ass and grinning at him.

Johnny yanked her under the spray-head, grinning as she gasped at the torrent of cold water.

"Listen-up, li'l gal," he began. "We cain't stay here too long; this place way too close to main road; one way or 'nother they gonna come down this way, an' I shore don't wanna wait 'round fo' when they do show up; I was gonna slide over Houma way, see Maw-maw, but they idjits been there 'ready, they think we gone there they gonna show up in force, so me an' Lubin and some o' the boys gonna let them trail us down to Ghost lake, an' jump them there; I reckon what we do there gonna make them goons think twice 'bout messin' with me an' my family!"

Johnny towelled off and pulled on his shorts; right now he needed some thinking-alone time, a habit of his Justine respected, so while she set about getting them some breakfast, Johnny wandered out onto the veranda to watch the sluggish bayou while he thought. He was deep in thought, thinking about what had happened this last week, where they'd been and what they'd learned, where they were going, when Justine, dressed in nothing but boy-shorts and a light robe, snapped him out of his reverie by handing him a coffee. He smiled to see her so innocent, yet so sexy, and took a sip of the bitter brew, completely unaware that even as they stood on the veranda in the morning sunshine and sipped their coffee, a professional killer with a high-powered sniper-rifle was lining-up a head shot on him.

*

Mélette and Odélie broke camp silently, brushed down the area and hid all sign they'd been there, then flitted through the woods, heading for the wooded knoll on the White Oak Trail. A hundred yards from where the trail diverged from the main road, Odélie froze, one foot in the air, her hand up to silence Mélette. Both girls listened intently, then Odélie made a circling gesture with her raised hand, pointing first left then right,

Mélette understood immediately; the men on the knoll were on the move, moving in closer to the house, so she would circle around to the left in front of them and Odélie would do likewise to the right, and jump them before they reached the house. Both girls set off, Odélie with her Remington cocked and the safety off, and Mélette with an arrow nocked ready.

Odélie made contact first; about two hundred yards from the house she spotted a city thug sneaking through the woods, the reek of tobacco and overpowering cologne confirming it was one of the men from the knoll, so she circled ahead of him, clambered up into a huge old Live Oak on the trail he'd have to use, and waited for him to come blundering by.

When he showed up, she could see he was alert for trouble, constantly scanning the terrain around him. He should have looked up. As he walked under the big branch she was crouched on, Odélie dropped square on him, her knee between his shoulder-blades sending him flying, while his own rifle flew off somewhere into the underbrush. Odélie clubbed him on the back of the head with her rifle-butt as he went down, and shoved her rifle muzzle up under his chin when he rolled over on his back to see who had jumped him.

"Don't you-all move less'n y'all want a big hole in yo' favorite head, boy!" she grinned. "This my daddy's old Remington and she got a real sensitive trigger, so you be smart, or you be dead, you hear me, boy?"

So saying, she gave the distinctive triple 'Kee-weet, Kee-weet, Kee-weet' call of the yellow-bellied flycatcher, repeating it twice.

Meanwhile, Mélette had caught up with his partner, a young man no older than herself, with what looked like an expensive, high-end, high-tech sniper rifle. She watched him cast around for a place to rest the rifle bipod for a clear shot, but finding nowhere suitable, instead took a length of rope from his pack and tied it around a tree at about shoulder-height. Mélette frowned, unable to work out just what the hell he was doing, but when he pushed the muzzle of the rifle through a loop twisted in the rope, she suddenly understood what he was up to; he was giving himself a stable rest to take his shot.

As far as Mélette was concerned, it had already gone too far; this creep was setting up a kill-shot. She realized she could clearly see Johnny and Justine on the porch, about four hundred yards away, so that meant that paid killer could as well; it was time to act.

As the man started to line up his shot, she put a razor sharp, broad-head hunting arrow through his trigger-hand, pinning it to the tree he was leaning against. The killer screamed, and as he tried to yank the deeply embedded arrow out of the tree, she shot him again, this time in the buttock. The man gave another howl as he dropped to his knees, and squealed once more as the arrow through his hand kept him hanging against the tree.

Mélette grinned and stood up; scratch one killer. The sniper's eyes bugged when he saw it was a pretty little blonde girl who'd shot him and tried to grab his rifle with his uninjured free hand. Before he could reach it, Mélette was standing in front of him. He froze when she pushed the razor-sharp tip of an arrow into his nostril just far enough for him to feel how sharp it was.

"I wouldn't boy; now just you lemme see what we got here..."

Without taking her eyes off him, Mélette unhooked his rifle and looked it up and down, and worked the bolt to eject the round in the breech.

"This look real expensive; that right, boy?" she murmured, and when he nodded, she smiled brightly at him.

"Bet it shoots real accurate too; looks like you c'n hit purty much what you wants from a ways out, 'm I right or am I right?"

The thug nodded fearfully, wondering where she was going with all this.

"That's just too bad, hun; I 'spose I could give this to one of the boys, but it ain't no use to them. See, they hunters, they kill to put food on the table, an' when they kill, they thank th' Lord for his bounty in providin' for their family; they don' murder from concealment. This thing here made for murderin' folks, an' that's all it was made for; there ain't no other reason for it to be; none the boys gonna want nuthin' to do with it; it's dirty, an' it's evil, an' we don' need stuff like this down here, sooo... "

With that, and before he could blink, she'd swung the rifle by the barrel and smashed it against the tree with all her might. ABS shattered and splintered as she repeatedly slammed the sinister-looking rifle against the tree until it was just a mass of plastic shards and bent metal components.

"There, now it's clean..." she murmured, tossing the wreckage far out into the bayou. "Nex' thing is, I gotta deal with you, so..."

She pulled out her huge, custom-made Randall Bowie knife, the 'Confederate' model, with its eleven-inch, razor-sharp clip-pointed blade and brass knuckle-bow, one of a pair that Johnny had given the girls for their 18th birthday, intending to cut the arrow-shaft out of his hand, but he took one look at the huge blade and fainted dead away.

"What in Sam Hill...?" she muttered, but then shrugged; if he was out cold he wasn't going to be all squirming and crying and telling her how much it hurt, so she set to. When he came around, he found she'd zip-cuffed him securely, with his hands behind his back, taken the rope he was going to use as a stable base for his shot and tied it around his neck, then around the tree, immobilizing him, strapped his ankles together with his own belt, dressed the arrow-wounds in his hand and backside, and thrown his pants, boots and socks away.

As he focused on her, they both heard a repeated squittering bird call, and, after a pause, the sound of a rifle-shot, and Mélette smiled.

"Who are you?" he asked, terrified. "I saw 'Southern Comfort', I know what you people are like, please don't let your clan have me, I'll do anything you want..."

Mélette frowned and prodded him with the alloy shaft of the arrow she'd taken out of his hand.

"You lucky I'm the shy, retirin' type, or I might take offense at that! That there birdsong an' shot mean yo' friend face down in the swamp, or he wish he wus. Now you tell me sumthin'; jes' whut kinda stupid city-boy idjit are you anyway? You an' yo' fancy guns come slitherin' around here bein' all sly an' thinkin' you all that, but these here swamplands is dangerous enough for you an' yore kind without you-all lookin' to go fussin' with my folks. You lucky I got you first, ain't no tellin' what else is a-trailin' you, or even sittin' right next to you this deep in, jes' waitin' for you to do somethin' all-fired stupid; look here..."

She whirled and raised her bow, with an arrow already nocked, and in one quick release shot another of her razor-sharp, broad-head arrows right through the huge mottled snake lying coiled up in the mound of leaf litter a few feet away from him. The arrow pinned the huge snake to the tree it was lying under, entering its neck just behind the head, a perfect shot. He shrieked as the snake thrashed around violently, unable to wrench itself free from the deeply embedded hunting arrow.

Mélette grinned at her shot, winked at the helpless killer, then, carefully approaching the coiling, thrashing monster, calmly drew her huge Bowie knife and, with a two handed grip, rammed the fearsome clip-point right through the snake's skull, killing the huge creature instantly.

"What the fuck was that!?" he shrieked, and she grinned at him.

"That there's a Ree-tic-ulated python; them idjits up New Orleans way keep them as pets; why they do that only the good Lord knows, 'tain't like we don' got enough dangerous shit roamin' aroun' out here already, where they 'spose to be, but no, they got to bring in even more, an' worse than that, too. Then Katrina come along, these damned things get loose, now they breedin' faster'n hogs in a canebrake; ain't nothing to stop 'em, even daddy 'gators shy away from them, so they grow real big. This'n ain't but a young'un, only ten, mebbe twelve feet; I seen ones near-on twice as long an' thicker'n Fat Arno's leg. I hear tell they's even spotted some Nile crocodiles North and East o' here, too, more escapees after Katrina; I dunno 'bout that, but you lucky you never meet one o' them, they huge, an' they don't hide none, they just rear right up 'n' bite you clean in half; I read somewhere that a Nile croc bites with the same force as a truck fallin' off of a cliff; be grateful there ain't none of them down this way...not yet, anyway."

She nudged the still thrashing and shuddering dead snake with her trail boot and grinned at him, making him quail even further.

"You still lucky I got you afore that snake did, yes sir. See, he ain't gon' eat you, but mebbe he don' like you comin' too close, so he snap out an' bite you real deep; you get bit by one o' them, you be real sick afore long."

She hunkered down and tapped the twitching dead snake with the flat of her huge knife.

"Thing is, they ain't poisonous, not like cottonmouths , but they got real dirty mouths, and there ain't no-one out here for to clean you up, no ant-i-biotics, so you get bit, you gon' get sick, then real sick, mebbe lose your mind a little, go wanderin' 'round, an' this a real bad place to go wandering if you ain't in your right mind; you go fallin' in the swamp, then a big ole daddy 'gator gon' come along an' take you fo' a li'l swim, stick you under some log deep-down only he know 'bout, an' wait for you to go all sof' an' sweet an' ready to eat."