The Last Motel

by Brett McBean

  The wind blew his hair and jacket about. He looked around the street. He could see no one walking a dog, no midnight joggers. It was too late for trick-or-treaters, so it looked as though he was alone.

  He started for the house.

  In his ordinary sober state, he would never have done anything like this. He wasn’t some pathetic peeping Tom, for God’s sake. But he kept telling himself that this was purely for curiosity. He was bored and wanted to see who it was that had fucked up his night.

  He arrived at Helen’s house, looked around one more time, then made his way to the left side of the house. He had been here enough times to know the layout. He headed for the first window.

  His heart, which pumped alcohol filled blood around his body, was racing as he stepped up to the window. The curtains were drawn, but he could see into the house through a narrow gap. The lights were on in the lounge room, but there was nobody there, only a few empty flutes sitting on the table, as well as three bottles of wine.

  Where are they? he wondered.

  He left the lounge room window, and walked farther down the side of the house. He tried to keep his footsteps as light as possible, but couldn’t help the leaves crunching under his feet.

  Branches scraped his arms and forehead as he pushed his way down towards the back of the house.

  He came upon another large window – Helen’s bedroom. He was actually heading for the kitchen window, but he stopped and peered in.

  Again a narrow gap allowed him to see into the room.

  His breath was stolen from his throat. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped.

  There were three people on the bed, all naked. At first he had trouble deciphering what exactly he was witnessing. There appeared to be just a mass of skin. But then one of the people emerged from the congregation and walked over to a drawer. He recognised her as Helen. Totally naked and gleaming with sweat, she looked absolutely stunning.

  His cock became hard. He watched as Helen opened one of the drawers and pulled out a long instrument. With slightly blurry eyes, he strained harder to see what she had taken out. He still wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

  But when she strapped a belt around her waist, and he saw the long thing jutting out, he understood.

  “Holy crap,” he muttered.

  He could faintly hear the sound of music. Something jazzy. The trumpet was the most audible instrument.

  Helen walked over to the other two.

  Those he had no idea who they were – or at least he didn’t think he did. One had its arse in the air and its head in someone’s crotch. The other person was greedily lapping at the partner’s groin from underneath.

  A sixty-nine, he thought.

  And he wasn’t completely positive, but they both looked like women.

  “Oh man,” he said, excited.

  Helen brought the dildo to the woman’s backside and began slowly slipping it into her anus. There was a rather loud moan as Helen pushed in deep. The other woman licked hungrily at the vagina.

  The dildo all the way in, Helen began moving back and forth.

  The woman that was licking the vagina now moved her mouth to the anus, to the dildo. As she licked, she slipped three fingers into the vagina and began digging in and out hard.

  Helen had begun to really build momentum, and she was fucking the woman’s arse with real fervour.

  He could hear the screams of pleasure from the woman being prodded even over the noise of the wind and music.

  After about two minutes, Helen pulled out and they all hopped up.

  He now saw that they were definitely all women – and, Jesus Christ, all amazingly beautiful. One was a stunning, large breasted blonde – the one that had been doing the fingering. The one who was getting fucked up the arse was a brunette.

  The moment he saw her, his cock got even harder and he sighed out loud. She looked younger than the other two – perhaps mid-twenties – and had a foreign look about her, maybe distantly Spanish or Mexican. Her deep brown skin was glossy with sweat and she had the most perfect body he had ever seen. She made Raquel Welch look plain in comparison.

  The blonde lay down on the bed. Helen and the brunette remained standing. With her red hair all mussed and her large nipples fully erect, Helen strolled over to the brunette and took her into her arms. They opened their mouths wide, both their tongues poking out, and kissed. They sucked on each other’s tongues while Helen caressed the brunette’s bum. She did the same.

  The blonde was busy masturbating on the bed.

  Then something happened that he wasn’t prepared for. He let out a loud, drunken burp.

  He was just as shocked as the women who stopped their love making and turned their heads towards the window.

  Shit! he screamed in his head and ducked down.

  He waited below for the window to open, for Helen or one of the other girls to call out, but it didn’t happen.

  After about a minute of squatting under the windowsill, he stood up and peered in.

  The three women were on the bed, sucking and fucking each other. He decided it was time to leave.

  He walked down the side of the house, through the trees and bushes, and finally to the front lawn. As he headed down to the footpath, he had mixed feelings. He felt very turned on – as any heterosexual male would be from watching three beautiful women get it on.

  But another part of him felt betrayed, almost angry. It was as if Helen was cheating on him.

  Making his way towards the car, he realised he had another problem. He was in dire need of a piss.

  He didn’t particularly feel like knocking on strangers’ doors, so he headed for the largest tree on the street.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Al walked out of the bathroom, rubbing his stomach tenderly. “I wouldn’t go in there anytime soon.” He walked over to his bed and sat down.

  “You were in there for like twenty minutes,” Eddy said, smiling. “Ya shit your brains out?”

  Al chuckled, then winced. “Don’t make me laugh.”

  “Man, I can smell it from here.” Eddy was lying back on his bed, practicing handling the gun, which he had been doing the whole time Al was in the bathroom. The revolver was heavier than he expected. But he had soon gotten used to its weight, and he now considered himself quite the expert.

  He placed it down on the side table.

  “You been playing with that thing the whole time?” Al asked.

  Eddy grinned. “I think I’m in love.”

  Al groaned, and clutched at his stomach with both hands.

  “Another one?”

  Al shook his head. “Don’t think so. Just some aftershocks.”

  “What’s causing it?” Eddy asked.

  “I dunno. Maybe the pizza we had for tea.”

  “Doubt it. I had just as much as you, probably more.”

  “I suppose so. I think I’m just nervous about the whole thing.”

  “I hope it doesn’t hit while we’re out in the mountain.”

  “Why? We’ll be surrounded by nature.”

  “You’ll shit out in the open, on the ground?”

  Al shrugged. “Trust me. When it hits you, you won’t care where the fuck you are. You could be having sex with the most beautiful woman in the world, but if your stomach starts to gurgle and you get that cramping feeling, you’ll stop without a second’s thought and hurry into the bathroom, doesn’t matter that you haven’t finished.”

  “That’s just charming,” Eddy said.

  “It’s the truth,” Al sighed, and winced.

  “You must really be nervous,” Eddy said.

  “Aren’t you?” Al breathed.

  “Yeah, of course. But not so much that I’m gonna get the shits.”

  “Guess I’ve got a sensitive stomach.”

  Eddy hopped off the bed, picking up the gun as he stood up. “You wanna get started, or do you wanna wait?”

  Al looked over at Eddy. He took a deep breath, then slowly stood up. “I wa
nna get this over and done with as quickly as we can.”

  “It’s gonna take a while,” Eddy told him. “A couple of hours. And it’ll be hard work. I’ve read that dead bodies are very heavy.”

  “Yeah, I’ve read that too.”

  Eddy checked his watch. It was a bit after one o’clock. He flipped open the revolver’s chamber, and checked that it was loaded. He pushed the chamber back into place. “Loaded and ready.”

  “Great. Where’s the box of ammunition?”

  Eddy patted his front jeans pocket. “Right where I can get to ‘em.”

  “Let’s pray that we don’t have to use it,” Al said, slipping on his black, sheepskin lined jacket.

  “I hope we do. I wanna test out my gun handling skills,” Eddy chuckled. “See what it’s like to shoot a bad guy.”

  “Come on, man. That’s not funny. This is serious.”

  “I was only kidding around,” Eddy said. “Don’t wanna have two dead bodies on our hands.”

  “Correction, the second body would be on your hands.”

  Eddy shoved the revolver down his pants. Only the handle was sticking out. He covered it with his jumper so the handle could not be seen. Only a slight bulge was noticeable, and only if standing close enough. “Okay, so you know the plan?”

  “Of course. What’s there to know?” Al said.

  “Are you sure you’re up to carrying him?” Eddy asked. “I don’t want to be halfway up the mountain only to find you can’t go any farther.”

  “I’m fine. I can handle it.”

  “Okay.”

  “So you still think it’s the best place?” Al said. “I mean we could drop him anywhere.”

  “No question. If it’s as deep and rocky as the old bag says it is, nobody’s gonna find him. Not for a while, anyway, when the old boy starts to go rotten.”

  “And they’ll think he either committed suicide or slipped,” Al finished.

  “Right. It’s perfect. They won’t have any evidence whatsoever to connect us with him. Apart from the fact that we stayed in this motel. But I mean how many people have stayed in this shit hole?” Eddy chuckled. “If we can manage to make it up there without being seen, we’ll be home free.”

  “Do we need anything besides the gun?”

  “Like what?” Eddy said.

  “I dunno, I’m just thinking out loud.”

  Eddy stood by the bed, thinking. He eventually shook his head. “Nope, can’t think of anything. It would be different if we were gonna bury him. We’d need shovels and shit. But we’re just going to throw him into a gorge.”

  Al nodded. “Except for gloves, there’s nothing I can think of.”

  “Gloves?”

  “Yeah, so we wouldn’t have to touch him.”

  Eddy smiled. He headed for the door. “Let the games begin,” he called over to Al. He stopped, however, when he noticed that Al wasn’t moving. He looked pale, and was wincing. “Oh no, not again.”

  With a sudden dash, Al ran into the bathroom.

  Eddy let out a sigh and wandered over to his bed. He took out the revolver and sat down.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The boy was still passed out. He had been out of it for about half an hour now, but at least it had given time for Wayne to bandage the boy’s legs. He could’ve been torturing him the whole time, but part of what excited Wayne was hearing the boy cry out, looking into his eyes as he was cutting or strangling him. He liked to sodomise them while they were either asleep or passed out – that way he could picture them as dead bodies. But when it came to torturing them with knives and other instruments, he liked them awake.

  He had tried torturing in the past while the victim had been passed out; it gave him little thrill. So much so that he had stopped and went and watched TV until the kid had come to. No, best to wait until they regained their senses.

  After bandaging the boy’s legs, Wayne had lain down on his bed, a Coke in his hand, and enjoyed the rest. The next few hours were going to be strenuous. It took a lot of energy to torture, rape and slice - so he needed to be well rested.

  Every ten minutes or so, Wayne had hopped off his bed and wandered over to the boy where he pinched the boy’s testicles or pressed on his kneecaps, just to make sure he wasn’t pretending to be still passed out. He wasn’t. Each time he never flinched, never winced in pain.

  But he was still alive. Even now, gazing over at the naked teenager, Wayne could see his chest gently rise and fall. Wayne was thankful for that. He wasn’t especially eager to go out looking for another victim tonight. He hadn’t had all his fun with this one yet.

  Wayne moved his eyes away from the boy, to one of the flickering flames. He loved to watch the peaceful movements of candle flame. It mesmerised him, gave him a sense of balance and inner happiness. The flames looked particularly beautiful when all other lights had been turned off, and everything in the room looked like shimmering bronze. Smooth, naked boys looked especially sensual shrouded in candlelight.

  When Wayne had found the candles gathering dust in the bedside drawer, he’d been overcome with happiness. He immediately went about searching for candlestick holders, and had found two in the cupboard above the sink. After he had lit both candles, and turned off the main light, he then had the decision of where to place them. (In between the boy’s legs; on the floor; stuck on the boy’s forehead using wax to hold them in place; on the sink bench – these had been some of Wayne’s ideas). He had finally decided on the bedside table. It wasn’t very adventurous, but it was the most central place in the room, therefore the whole room would be covered in bronze light, not just one area. Besides, he could always use them later on the boy.

  Wayne checked the time. He jumped off the bed and went over to the boy. He stood by the bed, looking down at the glowing body. Wayne had had enough rest. He was ready to begin.

  In the candlelight, the sheets were a deep purple. He hadn’t realised how much blood had gushed from the boy’s knees, especially the right one.

  No wonder he passed out.

  As he gazed down upon the boy’s chest, Wayne saw that his breathing had sped up. He now seemed to be breathing in jerking movements, rather than in a slow, steady rhythm. Wayne grinned.

  He walked over to the candles, picked one up by the base of the holder, then crept back. He moved down towards the boy’s mid-section, and held the candle over his body. Enough wax had collected at the top of the candle, near the wick. Wayne gradually tipped the candle, and watched as the wax spilled onto the boy’s testicles – right where he was aiming.

  The boy opened his eyes and let out a muffled scream. His body lurched around, but stopped when the pain from his knees became too much to endure. Tears streamed down his cheeks as the wax burned his tender scrotum. The wax soon began to harden.

  Wayne placed the candle back on the table.

  “Trying to trick me,” he said, shaking his head. “About time you came to. I was getting mighty lonesome.”

  The boy stared at Wayne, shaking. The towel in his mouth was completely soaked, wet with the boy’s saliva and sweat.

  Wayne could feel the bitterness in the room even though he wore a shirt and jacket. But Wayne could see that the boy’s body had a bluish tinge, even in the yellow candlelight.

  The boy mumbled something.

  “What?” Wayne taunted. “I can’t understand you. You mumble too much.”

  He spoke again, although his words were a jumbled mess.

  “You want me to take the gag out?”

  The boy nodded.

  Wayne grinned. He went over to the table and picked up his knife.

  “If I do, and you scream...” He held up the knife.

  The boy nodded again, this time more slowly.

  “If you thought it hurt when I stabbed your knees, you can’t imagine what else I can do to you. I can cause pain ten times that. Understand?”

  Wayne held the knife in his right hand while he took out the towel. He threw the sodden mass on the boy�
��s chest. The boy gasped and drew in deep breaths.

  “I’ll give you a little hint of what I’ll do to you if you start to scream. When you kicked at me, I sliced your legs. If you scream, which involves your voice box...” Wayne raised his eyebrows.

  “I...understand,” the boy said.

  “Good. Now, what is it you want so desperately to tell me?”

  The boy swallowed and caught his breath. “Please don’t kill me. I know that is your plan, but you don’t have to do it.”

  Wayne chuckled. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? I knew you were going to say that. Don’t fucking bore me.”

  Although Wayne secretly loved it when they begged for their lives. He never told them so, of course, but he got off on it. It made him feel just so damn powerful.

  “I’ve got a family and friends and a...a girl...girlfriend.” He started to sob. “I’ve got a life.”

  “And a future,” Wayne mimicked. “You don’t have to kill me, I won’t tell the police.” He laughed. “Isn’t that what you were going to say?”

  “Fuck you, you faggot,” the boy muttered under his breath.

  “What did you call me?” Wayne growled.

  “N...nothing,” the boy gasped. He shook his head hard.

  “You called me a f...f...” Wayne had trouble saying the word. Out of all the names for it, Wayne hated that one the most. It was the one his father used to call him.

  “I’m not a, a...one of those,” Wayne said. He wiped the tears from his eyes, then stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door with one fierce movement.

  He gazed at himself in the mirror, and felt hatred for being such a wimp and crying. He could hear his father’s voice in his head. It was strong, like he was standing next to Wayne at that very moment.

  You fat little faggot. You’re not going to amount to anything. Stop ya crying, faggot. You make me sick.

  “No!” Wayne screamed into the mirror.

  He still held the knife in his hand, and he was grasping the handle so tight that his fingernails were digging into his palm. With a powerful thrust of his right arm, Wayne smashed his hand into the mirror. Shards of glass fell into the sink; blood began to gush out of his hand. He dropped the knife into the sink, and opened his hand. His knuckles were cut, and Wayne could see bits of glass protruding from his hand. He turned his bloody hand over, and saw four sets of moon-shaped incisions embedded in his palm. They too were dripping blood.