Message-ID: <19441eli$9901290444@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Robert Kraft Subject: {RobertKraft}"ExodusTwenty" (M/F cons, voy, an, or, violence, sacri) [2/2] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19990127214553.22793.rocketmail@web303.yahoomail.com> WARNING: This story contains the following: descriptions of sexual activities between adults, unsanctioned alcohol use, violence, sacrilegious references, and other acts that you will just have to read about to see how bad they are. If they offend you, don't read the story again! Story is copyright 1999 by Robert Kraft. AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is NOT part of my book "Right Turn on Black." Exodus Twenty is my first short story in over two years, having spent much of my energy in that timeframe writing and (now) transcribing "Right Turn on Black." It is strange to return to a short format after such a time. Seriously, if you are VERY much offended by sacrilege, don't read this one. The story is still perhaps a bit rough so if anyone wishes to proofread it beyond what I did myself, please do so, it would be appreciated. Any comments, suggestions, or requests can be sent to rkraft99@yahoo.com. Thank you for reading! -Rob Exodus Twenty By Robert Kraft SECOND HALF: Part VII The next morning I watched as Keith and Annette left for church. I hate Sundays, I thought. Margo always starts bugging me about looking for a job tomorrow. Well, not this time. I grabbed my keys and headed out through the door, jumping in my car and following Keith's black Sentra at a distance. The church was not far, and soon I watched them entering the squat building. I took slugs from a bottle of rum I had brought with me, and soon I was feeling warm. I thought of Annette sitting in that stifling hall, sweat dripping down her neck, wetting her white knit top; perhaps it trickled down her spine, moistening her bottom under that loose short skirt of hers. Thirty minutes later I made my way through the door to the anteroom. The sermon had started, and the minister was full swing into his lesson for the day. I watched Annette through the opening, my fingers rubbing her black thong in my pocket. Christ, how to get her attention! Annette got up suddenly, perhaps to use the restroom, perhaps hearing my subtle cough. I stepped back sheepishly at first, but she was not surprised to see me there. Wordlessly she walked away, down the corridor and around the corner from me. I followed; watching the gentle sway of her hips under the dancing pleats of the flower printed skirt. She entered the bathroom. I paused for a second, and then followed. There she was, damnit, and she turned and looked at me with a mischievous glint in her eye. I rushed to her, taking her roughly into my arms. Her lips landed on mine with the fury of two storms joining into a tempest. We thrust our tongues deeply into each other, staggering around in our passion. At some point we backed into the door, spilling out into the hallway. I t is a divine miracle that I kept my balance, I thought to myself, but we are in a church I suppose. I pushed her up against the wall, deeply involved now. The hall was clear, but someone could walk out at any moment. "Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh!" I heard the minister proclaim from the altar. I turned Annette around, jamming my groin against her ass, pressing my serpent into her clothed valley. I left devastating kisses on her neck. My hands reached up under her shirt, slithering up her middle, reaching the hard wire of her bra. Over or under? I took the high road, sliding up over the cloth, feeling the hard nubs of her nipples grow. Her breathing was deeper now, as she clenched her hands against the bare wall of the hallway, pushing out against me. I took one hand and ran it around and up her back with firm pressure. I looked at her countenance; her eyes were closed, every pore of her absorbing my touch. God, she was hotter than hell. I began rubbing her nipple hard through the fabric of her bra, still leaving my marks on her neck. My other hand slid down over her perfect bottom, and stroked her upper thighs. I felt her move them apart a little to my extreme delight. I traveled back up, but under her skirt this time, stopping to cup her cheek. Christ, she's wearing a thong, I thought, feeling a drip of pre-cum emerge from the tip of my essence. I grabbed the thin back of the white panty in my fist and pulled it down. She pushed back against my fist, bending over just a hair more. "And they were both naked, man and wife, and were not ashamed!" came the thunder. It echoed around the halls forever. I reached up and put two fingers in her mouth, and when she had moistened them, I returned to her pubes, wet with saliva. For what, I thought, feeling a veritable pool there. I navigated the mat of hair and parted the sticky folds of her fruit, finding the slick channel that led down to her sin. I pressed her button gently, massaging the erect nub with two fingers. She turned her head to me, jamming her tongue into my mouth. I squeezed her between my fingers. I was about to bust out of my jeans. She soon was unable to continue the kissing, feeling the pleasure now. I reached my arm around her waist to hold her up; it was difficult to leave the breast behind. A hymn started up on the organ, the deep pedal tones shaking the small building, and the two angels locked in their passionate throes inside. I slipped into her river easily, flowing with the flood. Two fingers deep into the cavern, shelter from the sins of the world. I worked it slowly, wiggling the tips deep inside against the back of her chasm. Her knees weakened, I held her up strongly. I watched as her face contorted with each stroke, watched as her hips pushed back to meet each thrust of my twins. Her breathing became an effort, as if even her subconscious was so driven to the edge that it forgot to keep the rest of her body in tune. Gasps. I slid out, running my sticky fingers up through her crack, then back down again into her trench. I started a faster vibration with my fingers, inserting the tips of three in to the doorway and shaking for what I was worth. Her moans competed with the music from inside, adding a sexual counterpoint to the rich harmony of the Bach chorale. Her body exploded on me, muscles tensing, arms shaking. She let out a loud, long moan just as the congregation finished the last verse; somehow it was exactly in tune with the triumphant last chord of the choir. Suddenly she collapsed to her knees, breathing in short, ragged strokes. I knelt down, licking the sweet sap from my fingers. The organ finished its reprise of the last phrase, and for a long moment the only sound was Annette's breathing. Then the soft, fluty tones of a recessional began, and I heard people moving inside. I helped Annette up, pulling up her thong as best I could, and straightening her outfit. She fixed her hair in the glass of a framed painting of the Lord Jesus. Annette walked away, back around the corner to the entrance where people were filing out. I peeked around, watching the light glisten off her wet inner thighs as she took Keith's arm, and walked out. Wordlessly. I left soon after, unaware of the pair of marine-blue eyes watching me from a window. *** Exodus Twenty, Verse Eight: Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy, in it thou shalt not do any work*** Part VIII I walked up the steps to the second floor of the two-family house, keying into our place. Margo was not there, apparently. Good, who wants to deal with her shit? I went into my studio, feeling a bit inspired. I looked out, hoping Annette would be out in her bikini again, but there was no such luck. I sat wearily in my chair, looking at my previous day's painting. Not too shabby, I thought. I heard a car pull away outside; it sounded like Keith's Sentra. I quickly opened my window and looked out, catching the tail end of a black car pulling away. I looked over at the window of their second floor. I was astounded; the shade was up! In the two months they had lived there, I had never seen that shade open. And I looked often, believe you me. Apparently it was their bedroom. Wait, there was Annette! She walked into the center of the room, as I leaned on the sill, watching raptly. She turned away from me, and pulled her top off over her head. That's a strange place to disrobe, I thought, looking at the white back of her bra. She gently tossed the top away, reaching behind her to unzip the skirt. Slowly. Christ, she's putting on a show! I didn't know what to do; stare, paint, or run over there to fuck her brains out. I couldn't move, so that settled that question. She bent over, slowly dropping the skirt down over her hips. The white thong made its entrance, in more ways than one. She dropped the skirt delicately, bending over to step out of it and pick it up. The white fabric covered her beauty like a long teardrop. Even from my distance of twenty feet I could see the darkened wet area. She bent over again to undo her sandals, endless legs stretching, butt curved. Oh, fuck, I thought. I would have jumped the fifteen feet to her window if I had but somewhere to land. She reached back and undid her bra, stripping it off like a pro. I wanted to yell out, to have her turn, to let me see what had been let loose into the world. She perhaps heard my silent scream, and turned to the bed. Her breasts hung down beautifully, swaying as she crawled up on the mattress as if preying. The window blocked half the bed from me, and when she lay on her back, I could only see her from waist down. Jesus, she's posing for me. Her legs were bent, one on the other, as if sitting cross-legged on her back. Only the thin white strip of thong on her hip betrayed her modesty. I painted. I painted forever, yet never. There it was, then, on the canvas: an exaggeratedly huge brick wall, red, yellow, black, blue, unassailable, unattainable; a solitary window cut into its ugliness, wherein were two perfect creations beckoned. The difference, though, I thought, is that I can get the real ones. I was walking out the front door as Margo came in. "Where are you going?" "Dan's," I lied. "Oh, sure. Where the fuck were you this morning?" "Just out at the store," I lied. "Bullshit." "I was. Not get out of my way, I gotta meet Dan," I lied. "I know what's going on here," she said. "Fuck you, you don't know shit." "You are fucking Annette," "What are you talking about. I've never even spoken to her." "Liar!" "Well I've seen you and Keith together, so what the fuck is your God damned problem?" I asked, making that up, hoping it was true. "He is a bastard. I've seen you going at it, so you have nothing to say!" "You are such a piece of shit," she said, the bile almost dripping from her tongue. "You're gonna rot in hell," she said. "I'll see you there, then," I said, pushing past her and running down the steps. *** Exodus Twenty, Verse Sixteen: Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor*** Part IX "Oh, Annette!" "Come here and talk to me, our last meeting was so devastatingly silent" "Here, I'll close this shade" "No, leave it open" "Let me taste those lips again" "Mmm…" "Your mouth is my heaven. Let me taste your other lips" "They await your tongue" "Mm-hm, still wet from church" "Oh that feels good. I like being licked through my panty, it is a different feeling" "Glad to indulge you" "How does it taste?" "S-sweet" "Mmm, I washed it this morning for you" "How's…that?" "I saw you painting me yesterday" "Ah…" "Oh, that's good, keep that for a bit" "You like my tongue there?" "Surely…Oh, yes, yes" "Where's your-ss…husband" "Out for the af-ahh, afternoon" "My wife is probably watching us" "Good for - her, good fff, shit how many fingers do you have in me" "Don't worry about it" "I'm not worried, believe me, fuck" "O.K." "Where are you going, hah, with that othhhher hand?" "Just exploring" "Keith has never been in there" "Have you ever done this?" "No" "I'll go easy, tell me if it hurts" "So far ss-so good" "I'm not in yet, just rubbing it" "I know, it feels good" "O.K., ready?" "Yeah, go for - it, oh, whoa, that's different. Very different" "It's just my pinky" "It feels like a f-fist" "You'll adjust" "Keep fingering my pussy too, wiggle your fingers in there" "Yes ma'am" "Yeah, that's it. Damn this feels good. Ahh, fff, fffuck!" "How does that feel now?" "Whass that?" "My thumb now" "It hurss a little - no, d-don't take it out. It feels damn good, oh yeah, this is blowing my mind" "Just lay back, let go" "Ho fuck yes, yes! Ahh, go all in! Deeper, yeah, yesyesyesss, oh yes!" "How does it feel to have me in both places" "Yes! Don't stop! Shhh, fuckin' A!" "Yeah, tha's what I'm doing" "Shut up, I'm cumming, just work those fingers - oh yeaaah, yeah, ssss, phhoo, ahhhhhhhhhhh!!" "More?" "No, wait a bit" "You feel like an earthquake" "Phhoow, don't touch me, I need a second. Take off your clothes - phhuh - or something" "How are you feeling?" "Like a waterfall. These streams are washing out from my belly to the crown of my head" "That's good" "Get up here and fuck me now" "Sure thing" "Whoa, you have a thick penis" "I guess. You'd know more about that than I would" "Put it in me, all the way" "Shouldn't I put something on?" "No. I want to fuck your dick, not some rubber" "If you say so" "Oh yeah, I feel it, go on. Shit, don't tease me, I've had enough! Bury it in me. I know you want it" "Damn, that's tight" "With a paintbrush like yours, anything must be tight" "Maybe. Warm, ah, it feels good" "Yeahhh, alright, start painting, Michelangelo" "I always start a work with broad strokes" "Oh, your are a ff-ffunny one, oh yeah, that's it" "You started it" "K-keep going" "Next I like to add the basic lines, uhh, to the canvas. I move my pencil in long, linear movements" "You are pretty good at that part" "Then, I add in the base colors, with circular motions, making sure to fully f-fill each part of the canvas" "Oh, damn that hits nicely. Keep goin', oh yes, yess" "Maybe some details using short, deft thrusts of my brush" "Mmm, yeah, I like the details, ohhh, oh, c'mon more pleasss" "Then, ahhh, shit, I step back away from the work" "I don't like that part. Did you finish" "The masterpiece remains unfinished yet" "Well get back in there and finish it, dammit!" "Sometimes, it helps to get a different perspective, so I turn the canvas over, to get a different view" "Good idea, but if you even think of sticking that big brush into the other paint bucket, the painting will get up and slap you" "Ha-hah, Fair enough. O.K. Back to work" "What's this technique called" "Doggie style" "You are silly" "Backstroke, then" "I like it. Ahh, you need to keep at this one for a bit" "That's sounds good to me. Mmm-hm…" "The canvas is feeling shaky" "I'll redouble my efforts" "Good idea. You are missing a spot" "Where" "There's a small circle on the bottom that needs some work, why don't you do some finger painting?" "Delighted to. I don't mind working on two parts of the canvas at once" "The canvasss, it doesn't mind it either, ohhh, yeah, that is something else" "Oh yesss, this is" "Keep going, oh yess, shit yeah, stroke me, yes, yes yes!" "Ahh, sss, yes, fffuck yeah" "Is it c-close? Isss it? Ahhh" "Yes, ahh, I am putting the ff-final touches on it, ahh, right now. Yes, now" "Oh yeah, faster, faster, hurry and finish, oh yes, YES!! Ahhh, oh yeah!" "Ahhhh, ah-ahhhhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhhhffffffooo, ahhhhhhhh, ahhh…" "Wow, I feel your paint in me" "Is it, huhh, is the painting finished?" "Christ, yes she is. The painter?" "The artist stepped back and looked at everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. He had finished" "And a masterpiece it was…" *** Exodus Twenty, Verse Fourteen: Thou shalt not commit adultery*** Part X "That's messed up man," said Dan. "Why's that." "You're leaving Margo and running off with some woman you hardly know?" "I'm tired of the shit, man. I'm just gonna take my paints, my car, and Annette, and head out tomorrow morning." "Yeah, you told me." "I like her a lot, man. I know I don't know her, but God, she is something better than I've ever known. I feel something deep, you know." "Yeah, your dick." "No it's not that, not just that, but I really like her. She appreciates my work." "Well, let me know where you are from time to time, huh?" "Sure, man," I said, giving him a hug. "Alright, take care." I drove home in a rush. I was finally feeling up about my life. I was gonna leave my abusive wife behind, and save Annette from the bastard that was Keith. She told me how he hit her sometimes so bad she couldn't go to work for days. I ran up the steep stairs and burst through the door. I wasn't even gonna tell Margo until we were well on the road. I stopped. There was screaming from my studio, Margo's voice. Shit, what the hell is wrong with her now. I ran into the room, freezing dead at the door. Annette was there, red-faced, crying, obvious slap marks on her cheek. My secret stash of paintings I had done of her in the last month, all nudes, were spread out grotesquely in the room. "What the fuck?" I said, unbelieving. "Well, well, well, look who's here," she said, coming over to me. "Mr. Big Painter. Next time you fuck your neighbor, at least close the shades if you don't want your wife to see." "I don't care. I am through with you." "Say what? Did I hear correctly?" "I said I'm through with you, bitch." "I suppose you are gonna run away with this slut here, huh?" "None of your fucking business!" "You bet it's my business!" she roared, slapping me hard. Anger was subsiding in me, and I was feeling a bit meek. "Just let it go, Margo." "Fuck you!" She slapped me harder. I turned and went to the window, rubbing my face. "You, slut, get the fuck out of my house." I turned to see Margo grabbing Annette's arm and roughly pushing her out the door. I was suddenly furious. "Let her go, you bitch!" I said, starting after them. They went out the front door, onto the landing of the stairs; Margo was screaming, Annette was shrieking. "NOOO!" I yelled, arriving as Annette tripped on Margo's feet, and fell, tumbling down the steps like a rag doll. The stairs shook like an orgasm, and the sound was deathly. I ran after her, but in vain. I watched with absolute horror as she landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Her neck was turned in a way I'd only ever seen once before on a person. In a deadly car accident. I looked up at Margo, who, for a moment, had a horrified look on her face. Then her eyes narrowed and she stormed back into the apartment. I ran down to the ground level, and looked at Annette. No movement. I was careful not to move her. I felt her neck, hoping for something. I listened for breath, I felt her chest for a beat. I prayed. Nothing. Death. GOD, why have you done this to me? Because thou hast eaten of the tree, of which I commanded thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat of it: cursed is the ground for thy sake, in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life… I took her in my arms now, all hope lost. I smelt her sweet hair, shampoo from our earlier shower together. She was wearing the outfit I had gotten for her yesterday, and so sweet it looked. Her eyes were closed peacefully. I leaned my head against hers for many long years, endless rivers streaming down my face onto hers. Vengeance. Vengeance. I lay Annette gently down on the wooden floor, and ran up the stairs. Shredding noises were coming from my studio. I stormed in to see Margo ripping my works up with a big razor, cutting them into small strips. They were my greatest pieces, and all but one was already ruined. "Too bad she had to trip right there," said Margo, turning to me. I stared at her, my eyes like black coals. "How is the bitch," she said, reaching for the last whole painting. I barreled into her, with all my might. She dropped the painting, slashing wildly at me. I felt stinging sensations well up in my back. We struggled for a second, and then I lifted her and powered through the strips of canvas piled on the floor, straight to the window. Her body blasted the glass apart with a sonorous crash; a million crystalline shards sailed out into the air, falling twelve feet to the concrete walk below. Margo followed them, eyes open wide in disbelief, red-drenched razor still clutched in her flailing right hand. I watched as she gained velocity, a cry forming on her lips. She hit before her voice could speak, and the thud was loud and final. I stared for a minute, maybe more. Her large, marine-blue eyes were still open, grotesquely. "How is she?" I said to her. "I'll tell you how she is: she's dead… As dead as you are." For Dust thou Art, and unto Dust shalt thou Return. *** Exodus Twenty, Verse Thirteen: Thou shalt not kill*** END of Exodus Twenty by Robert Kraft Copyright 1999 Comments appreciated -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----