Lucky Dog (23)

Bud Shellen and Geoff Harvey crashed against the sofa in the living room. Shellen was plugging his fist to Geoff's face so fast that Geoff felt he had just been jumped by a stitching machine.

Cut nylon cord still dangling from his neck and ribs severely bruised, Matt stood naked in the bedroom doorway and watched. If Shellen needed help, he was ready to jump in, and part of him wanted a crack at this lunatic anyway.

Bud grabbed Geoff’s head under his armpit, locked it in between his bulging bicep and heaving ribs. He arched his back, thrusting his hips forward, cranking Geoff’s neck upwards. He wanted to bust that neck. Geoff drove blunted punches into Bud’s hips. He reached up behind him and clawed at Bud’s eyes.

Blinded, Bud continued to thrust forward and pull his shoulders back further. Geoff screamed in agony, and his hands fell away from Bud’s face. Bud stood up, pulling Geoff up to his feet. His heart pounded against Geoff’s ears. Geoff felt his head growing numb and tingling. He shoved his shoulder hard against Bud’s chest. Bud pushed back and the two of them tumbled over the coffee table. Bud on top, Geoff’s back grinding against an ashtray and a couple of magazines. Geoff’s white sweatshirt had worked its way up to his ribs.

Geoff raised his knee and drove the heel of his boot to the small of Bud’s back. Bud retaliated with a vicious twist to Geoff’s captive neck—almost too much for Geoff to bear. Bud rolled backward in the opposite direction, pulling himself and Geoff off the table, and rolled Geoff over himself. He got up on one knee and, continuing to work Geoff’s neck under his arm, jabbed his knee to the exposed belly.

Looking on, Matt was impressed with the way Bud was making short work of this crazy asshole he had never seen before. The ferocity on Bud’s face had grown out of the fear he’d seen there when Bud first walked into the bedroom and found Matt’s bruised and bound body at the foot of the bed.

Bud banged his knee to Geoff’s tenderized abdominals again and again. Accidentally, his leg slid down to Geoff’s crotch, and he felt Geoff’s cock, long and stiff as a nightstick, under his pants. This fruitcake was charging up even as the shit was being kicked out of him.

Bud let go of Geoff’s head and rolled off. He came back with a roundhouse to Geoff’s jaw, just as the insane perv was trying to rise up. He planted his knee on top of Geoff’s heart. Then he dug under the waist of Geoff’s pants and grabbed his hard member in his right fist. He used the stick as a handle and hauled Geoff’s butt up clear off the terrazzo floor, only to slam it back down and hard. Geoff howled as Bud repeated the thrust.

(To be continued)


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