Here he was fifty-one, his partner of thirty years, gone, her body now at rest after years of pain. In front of him on the table was a bottle of sleeping pills and a bottle of whisky. The whisky bottle already half empty and he was feeling no pain; the front door bell went off.
"Shit," he swore, the last think he need now was company. The ringing became insistent until at last he went to answer it.
"Yeah, what do you want?" he said testily to his ex daughter in law; his son had divorced her last year.
"I just come around to see how you were," she said walking past him into the lounge. He watched her walk by, he had always fancied her from the first time Tim had brought her home.
"Fancy a drink?" he offered, "I've got whisky."
"Yeah why not," she said. Together they sat there drinking their neat whisky. Over the top of his glass he took in her trim figure. She had good legs and always wore the shortest of skirts to show them off, even today, on this sad occasion, her only concession was her skirt was black.
If he was going to end everything, he might as well go out with a bang. He smiled at her, he don't think it was a very nice smile.
"I think I should go now," she said, feeling uncomfortable with his continuous gaze.
"No don't go just yet," he said, "there is something I've always wanted to do to you."
"Oh, what?" she said, her uncomfortable feeling getting worse.
"I've always wanted to fuck your brain out," he said in a matter of fact way.
"W-what!" I think you've drunk too much," she said getting up, "and I'll be going now."
"I don't think so," he said grabbing her arm and pulling her back onto the sofa.
"Let me go," she begged, surprised at his strength. "No please," she begged, getting desperate now. Her struggling had caused her short skirt to expose her knickers to his view. His shoved his hand in the gap between her thighs.
"Open up for me bitch," he snarled, his face close to hers.
"Please no," she was losing it now, her heart beat and breathing was becoming rapid.
"Do as you are told," he said, backhanding her across the face. The slap froze her body in shock, allowing him to pull her knickers off and he flung them into the corner. He now started on her blouse, button after button was undone until he pulled it off her shoulders. He popped her front opening bra to reveal her small breasts to his view.
"Yeah, nice," he said, his hands mauling her tits savagely.
"Oh please, no, please stop," she was really panicking now, but he was not to be denied. His forced his knee between her thighs to opened her up so he could get between them; he unzipped himself and pushed his hard cock into her dry pussy.
"Oh no," she cried, half in pain and half in shock.
"Oh you're nice and tight," he whispered into her ear. His hips thrust savagely into her.
"Oh no, please stop," she tried to push him off, but he was too strong and too heavy. Harder and harder he thrust into her, until at last he grunted and pumped his sperm deep into her.
He lay there for some time, not moving, enjoying the feeling of power he had over her.
"Please," she whispered.
"Yeah, little one, that was nice," he said getting up from her near naked body; as soon as he did, she tried to cover herself up.
"Stop that," he snapped.
"Please no more," she begged.
"You'll do as you are told," he said holding his hand above her head as a threat, "now take off all of your clothes." Under the constant threat of being slapped, her clothes slowly come off, until she was naked.
"That's better, now I can see why my idiot son married you," he said, "not bad, nice body on you, shame about you being a slut."
"Please, I need to go," she said meekly, "I've friends that are expecting me."
"Friends, a slut like you doesn't have friends, just men waiting for you to spread your legs for them," he said crudely, she knew it was true, since her husband had divorce her, she had no one, just casual fucking.
"Please let me go now," her voice betrayed her feelings of panic, "I promise I would tell anyone."
"What do I care who you tell," he laughed, "who's going to believe a slut like you." His hand moving over her near perfect body.
"How is it that a pretty thing like you, turns out to be a right bitch," he pondered, not really expecting her to reply. "I suppose you were pampered by all the boys when your bits arrived, yeah, I suppose it's not really your fault."
"Sorry," she said, not understanding what he was talking about.
"While we waiting for round two," he smiled down at her, "you can tell me all about your early sex life."
"W-what," she stuttered.
"When did these arrive," he said squeezing her small tits.