H-Day Part 3: Tuesday Night is Scheduled Sex Night
Remember, these are a very rough draft and not even close to final. They are more like the initial ideas I get and quickly spew out. I hope you enjoy it for what it is!
WARNING: The story that follows is full of senseless violence, gratuitous sexual descriptions, and blood; lots and lots of blood!
Oh, how I love Halloween!
Another booming round of thunder shook the Washington house. The lights flickered, but remained on as Cybil Washington stood inside of her walk-in closet and slipped out of her clothes.
Moments earlier she had finally been successful in putting the twins, Joshua and Jay, into their cribs. The constant flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder had made that a difficult task this evening, but the twins had finally succumb to closing their eyes for the evening.
Outside of the large walk-in closet, Tony Washington lay on his bed wearing only his black boxers with the gold Star Trek logo on the front right. In front of him, mounted on the wall, the 42″ plasma TV pumped out visions of naked women in different stages of sexual activity.
It was Tuesday night and that meant it was time for some sweet loving with his wife. Having newborn children and a full time job left little time for Tony and Cybil to enjoy much of anything and the weekends quickly became filled with errands and playing catch-up. After the birth of the twins they had made a pact to make love, hell, fuck like rabbits, every Tuesday night.
Down the street the animated figure of Gunther Sinclair strode into the down pouring rain. His movement was herky and jerky, but his destination was clear. His eyes, those black orbs of death, focused on the light in the upstairs window of the Washington house and he body followed the orders sent down from his mashed up brain.
Cybil Washington turned and twisted in front of the full length mirror as she checked out her body one last time before clicking off the light and exiting the wardrobe.
She exited the closet, looked at her husband laying on the bed, and began her strut. With each step, her long legs poked out of the slits in the long black gown.
“Permission to board, Captain?” Cybil asked Tony as she neared the foot of the bed.
“Huh? This ain’t a boat.”
“Aren’t you the Captain of the Enterprise?” She asked jokingly and seductively.
“Well, the Enterprise wasn’t a boat. It was an interstellar spaceship capable of –”
She quickly cut him off. “Well Captain, either shut up or prepare for a long night of solo maneuvers.”
He wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but it didn’t sound good and he shut up. “Permission granted,” he said as Cybil climbed slid on to the bed and began making her way north.
Whaaaaaaaa-BOOOOM! went the thunder. The house shook as if it were at the epicenter of a small earthquake.
“What was that noise,” asked Cybil. Her hand was on the waistband of Tony’s boxers as she was about to pull them down. “It sounded like glass breaking.”
“I’m sure it was nothing, baby. Now, you were about to show the Captain how well you handle a light saber.”
“I thought that Star Wars had light sabers,” Cybil questioned.
“Damn it, Cybil. It’s space. They all knew each other. Play along.” He grinned as he positioned himself so that he could still see the TV while his wife removed his boxers and lowered her head towards his pelvic area.
As her lips touched the head of his throbbing “light saber” another crash of thunder exploded. The TV momentarily went black before coming back on. The screen was blue and read “DVD Unreadable”. “Son of a bitch” exclaimed Tony Washington jerking backwards looking for the remote. “I swear tomorrow morning I am returning this damn thing. It’s always messing up!”
“Now, tell me you didn’t hear that?” Cybil questioned. “Tony, it sounded like someone was coming up the stairs.”
“Cybil, no one is in the damn house. Did you see how hard the rain is out there? They’d have to be Aquaman to survive this shit. There — there, now we got it,” Tony said as the DVD player came back to life. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
Cybil Washington sighed as she turned back to her husbands waiting member.
The sound of the door being ripped from the hinges was nothing that either of them had heard before. Cybil screamed as they both stared at the figure that was now standing where their bedroom door once hung. The figure dripped and dropped mud and rain onto the carpet.
The figure was slightly illuminated in the glow coming from the TV “Gunther? Is that YOU?” Tony asked.
Cybil quickly jumped up and ran towards the walk-in closet where the lock box containing Tony’s pistol sat high on the top shelf near her assortment of Sunday hats. She got two steps off of the bed before Gunther cut her off. He reached out with one old hand and snared the back of her satiny gown. He pulled her sharply towards him and in one quick motion he placed one hand on either side of her head and began twisting. She tried to scream, she really did try, but the sound wouldn’t come out. Her neck made painful sounding noises as if someone were breaking an armload of kindling wood. SNAP CRACKLE POP — Off with her head!
The body of Gunther Sinclair stood and raised his left hand high in the air. The head of Cybil Washington rose with it. For a moment it appeared as though her eyes were actually looking out and seeing her horrified husband as he sat motionless and terrified on the bed. His cock no longer hard. His ass sitting in the wetness of his own piss.
“You want some head?” The old man croaked out. The voice was grumbled and weak, and most certainly not the voice of man who Tony stared at. He heaved the head at Tony. The forehead of Cybil crashed into the bridge of Tony’s nose. Blood exploded and splashed onto the lifeless head that came to rest in his lap. The old man sprung to the bedside and quickly snatched back the head. Tony was in shock and unable to move. His muscles tightened and his body remained motionless. With his fingers tightly grasping the hair on Cybil’s head the old man began to repeatedly pummel the face of Tony Washington until he was unrecognizable and lifeless. Then the old man turned and headed to the doorway.
Just down the hall, the twins each lay in matching cribs. Their little bodies were coddled tightly inside cottony soft blankets.
The body of Gunther Sinclair stood in their doorway —