The cops drank their refreshments as Tom vigorously raped the blonde co-ed from behind like a rodeo rider taking down a calf -- holding her by her mouth and enflamed mammary.
Uh, Mrs. Brannigan," Wallace started, putting down the coffee mug. "Do you mind if we have a look around?"
Agnes raised her eyebrows, looking at the local cop.
"It's nothing, Agnes," Jim promised. "We're just stumped and need anything we can find that might help."
Ignoring Wallace's dirty look for revealing their lack of progress, Agnes shrugged. "Well, we didn't see the poor thing after her family checked in, but sure, if you think it might help. We'd do anything to make sure the dear girl is all right. You want to start here or upstairs?" Leesa tried to fall or jerk herself away, but Tom was too strong. She was all but attached to him, her tit spurting, as he surged up into her again and again.
"You don't want to check the bedroom, do you?" Agnes asked as they passed the door.
"Naw," Wallace said. "We'll wait until your husband's finished showering. What's this door?" He pointed at the obstruction blocking the attic stairs.
Leesa contorted achingly in Tom's grip, her torso twisted across his, her fingers pushing uselessly against his taut stomach muscles. He just squeezed her face and tit again, nearly breaking her neck and dislocating her jaw. He pulled her onto his shaft for the hundredth time, her shining skin and dress remnants totally soaked.
"That's the attic," Agnes said. "I can guarantee you no guest has ever been up there."
"May we see?" Wallace asked.
Beyond it all -- beyond the agony in her chest and face and mind -- Leesa could feel him coming. The drug had done more than fill her tits and enhance her nerves. It had magnified her sexual responses. She could feel his rod getting hotter and thicker and filling with seed. She grew taut in his grip, panting in terror. "No!" she tried to cry out over and over again. "No!"
She tried corkscrewing out of his grip, her body slick as a marlin. But her tit was too big and he held it too tight. She twisted her head to the other side and suddenly his hard muscular hand was wrapped around her eyes and forehead, jamming her all the way on his member. Saliva exploded from around the ball gag, a sound like a stabbed deer escaping her mouth.
Agnes closed the attic door on it. Even if they had heard the noise, it also sounded like a sudden surge through the shower head. Agnes followed the two officers up into the small, narrow area not filled with boxes and bags. A single mattress lay in the wan light from a small window high in the ceiling.
"What's that doing there?" Wallace asked. Tom jammed up into the girl. He rammed her back onto him. His cock cannoned his load into her.
"Are you kidding?" Agnes answered the trooper. "I got a knee splinter every time I needed to find something up here. It only takes one of those to get you thinking. I had some pillows up here for awhile, but they got too dirty to use again." Leesa's eyes widened in defiled disbelief. She clawed at her despoiler, writhing in disgust, but then his hands were back over her mouth and squeezing her nostrils shut.
Tom opened the bedroom door at the second knock, a towel around his waist. "What the...?" he exclaimed, seeing the two officers behind his wife. "What's going on, Jim? Can't a guy have a nice shower in peace?"
"Sorry, Tom," the sheriff replied. "State's involved with the Sherman girl thing now. They could use your input, I guess." The cops misunderstood his smile as being flattered by their need. Agnes didn't misunderstand. She knew he was smiling at the word "input." He had plenty of input on the Sherman girl thing already. And, of the four people in the doorway, only he knew that she was under her summer dress, in a cardboard box, still in the attic.
TO BE CONTINUED