"Virgin?"

Brett’s cheeks turned flaming red, but he kept quiet; all but admitting to the damning accusation. Mark grinned happily. Brett Baiting was his favorite past-time, and Brett rarely failed to supply fresh material for him.

"’Cause if you wouldn’t fuck Mrs. Jennings, you’re either that or a fag."

"Shut up!"

"’She’s a teacher,’" Mark mimicked. "I’d never fuck a teacher!’" He turned back to Dave and threw his two cents into the conversation. "She’s hot. But you know who’s got better tits? Mrs. Carmichael."

"Oh God, yeah," said Clancy. "Nice ass too. What about you, Ron?"

Ron thought about it. "I dunno. I like my women skinny. Mrs. Carmichael’s a little too thick for me. I think Mrs. Daly’s kinda cute; she’s got that sweet little ass, I’d just like to grab on and..." Ron wrapped his hands around an imaginary ass and fucked the air. "I’d fuck her for hours, man."

We all agreed on that one.

"Yeah," nodded K.C. "Dave and I have her for third-period Lit." He giggled and poked his hands out of his t-shirt, like he had boobs. "The air-conditioning in her room’s fucked up. It’s stuck on, so it’s always freezing in there. Her nipples are always poking out through her shirt."

"They look like they could poke out your eyeballs." Dave mimed one of Mrs. Carmichaels’ tits jabbing him in the eye.

Everybody laughed again. Even Brett.

"I’d do Mrs. Gray," said Byron.

Dave scrunched up his nose and scowled. Mark and K.C. looked stumped.

"Who?"

Byron grinned, his white teeth flashing against his dark face. "You all will never guess."

"The old cranky bitch in the office?" Dave looked mystified. "The one you said you’d give me a dollar if I could get her to smile?"

"Yep." Byron grabbed his crotch. "I’d get her to smile. I got her smile right here. Know what I mean? Har, har, har!"

Light dawned in Mark’s eyes. "The Attendance Nazi?"

Byron was pretending to slurp boobage. "Nobody said you gotta like the bitches to fuck ‘em. Mrs. Gray’s got those great, big - POW! - titties, man. I’d get on up behind that fat old ass, grab on ’ta them titties, and - BAM!" He pounded the air with his hips. "Hate fuck th’ old cooze. Right there at the counter."

"Bet’cha that’s why she’s there." Mark said.

Byron pumped away. "What’cha mean, man?"

"You never see her or Principal Nelson around during the afternoon, do you? I bet he keeps her there, just to fuck her during lunchtime."

We all cracked up.

"Yeah," agreed Clancy. "He’s probably like, ‘Mrs. Gray, pardon me, but can you step into my office for a moment?’, and she’s like, ‘Why Mr. Nelson, of course.’ And then he makes her suck him off under his desk, saying shit like, ‘You like my big, donkey-dick, don’t you Mrs. Gray’. And she says more shit back, like, ‘Mrghphrn, mh-hmm’, while she’s busy bouncing her head up and down." He bobbed his head, poking his tongue into his cheek and made wet smacking sounds with his lips.

K.C. chimed in. "And then he spooges all over her wrinkly tits, and tells her to go back to work and yell at all the crummy teenagers."

Ron laughed so hard, I thought he was gonna puke all over the pepperoni. Dave turned to me and grinned.

"You’re awfully quiet, Dev. You used to get all the pussy you wanted, with Cara an’ all. But who’d you fuck now, if you got the shot?"

I felt a slow grin spread across my face, and I looked at each of the guys before answering.

"That’s easy. Ms. Bell."

"What?" Ron asked.

"Seriously?" Chimed in Brett.

I nodded, my smile getting bigger.

"The French teacher?" asked Byron

"Yeah. Well, my Spanish teacher now."

Mark started laughing.

"The Bride of Frankenstein?"

He wasn’t kidding. Ms. Bell was kinda weird.

She insisted on the kids in her classes calling her Ms . Bell (‘NOT Mrs.!’), or by her first name: Linda. She was pale enough to make me think she never stepped outside; and the pancake makeup, black eyeliner and bright red lipstick she favored contrasted with her curly, jet black hair, which she wore piled up in mounds on top of her head. And she was really tall; even taller than most of the guys on our school basketball team.

I had the hots for her because she always wore either full-length dresses or tight skirts with nice, silky blouses, black stockings and ‘fuck-me’ heels. For some reason, she always looked really sexy to me. Maybe it was because I got off on old monster movies. I dunno.

I took two years of French with her. Both my freshman and sophomore years.

And I sucked. To this day, I can’t speak a fucking word of French. But I have to give Ms. Bell credit; she worked her ass off with me. She made time for me after school, and somehow I managed to pass her class both years. And all those hours after school, sitting next to her, smelling her perfume, watching her luscious ass wiggle when she wrote on the chalkboard, listening to her speak the ‘language of love’ (as my mom called it), well...

Somewhere during those two years, I guess I developed a schoolboy crush.

So when my counselor, Mrs. Neidermeyer, told me that I had to take another language credit if I wanted to graduate, I remembered all those afternoons spent trying to catch quick, tantalizing glimpses of Ms. Bells’ bra or the soft skin between her breasts.

I told Mrs. Neidermeyer that I liked Ms. Bell. That was exactly how I said it. And she replied that Ms. Bell was teaching both French and Spanish this year. I could choose one of her classes, or I could try one of the other two languages the school offered.

I had a choice.

I absolutely didn’t want to suffer through another year of French, and no way was I going to try Japanese, so it boiled down to picking between the German class, with old Mr. Bromberg (and his halitosis and dandruff), or Ms. Bell and Spanish.

My girlfriend - Cara - took German the year before, and told me that after the second month they weren’t allowed to speak any English in class at all.

Fuck that. It wasn’t a hard decision to make.

Unfortunately, I sucked almost as badly with Spanish as I did with French. Fortunately, they were similar enough and I seemed to have retained enough from my French classes that I was muddling through. And Ms. Bell seemed really excited to see me back, and offered to help me out again if I needed it.

This year, one of the football jocks started calling her ‘the Bride of Frankenstein’ after she came to school with a white, wavy streak that ran right up the side of her head, all the way through her thick black hair.

The nickname stuck, and now all the kids whispered it behind her back. She’d earned a couple other names, too. But I still got a huge fucking boner whenever she smiled at me.

Anyway... back to the discussion in progress.

"The Bride of Frankenstein?"

Everybody was staring at me like I’d snotted a baseball out of my nose.

"Yeah." I said.

"Seriously?"

Brett again. Mark hucked a beer at me.

"No fuckin’ way!"

I grinned at the guys and cracked the beer. Dave was staring at me, openmouthed.

"You’re serious!"

"Yup."

He squinted at me and cocked his head. Ron caught the meaning in my grin too.

"You... you didn’t fuck her. Did you?"

I raised my beer in a toast, and everybody exploded with questions.

"Don’t lie to me, motherfucker." Dave was grinning from ear to ear. "You’re telling me you fucked Vampira?"

That was another one of her nicknames, and just as appropriate as ‘the Bride of...’.

I shrugged and smiled.

"This I gotta hear."

They all leaned in closer. So I took a long sip, savoring the moment, and swished the cold beer around in my mouth.

I gave them the short version. The one designed to impress teenage boys.

Some things aren’t meant for even your closest friends to know. Not all of this story, anyway.

My fucked up, senior year sex life.

So here it goes. The whole story.

It started on a Friday afternoon at the beginning of the school year, right after the last bell of the day.

I had Spanish for my last class, and I’d said goodbye to Ms. Bell and met K.C. in the hall.

We walked to our lockers together. I was idly spinning the dial on mine, waiting for Cara to pop by before her mom picked her up. K.C. was noisily listening to his walkman at the locker next to mine, jamming out to some serious funk, dancing and singing out loud, when Cara walked up and kissed me on the cheek.

"Seriously?" I knew that I sounded like Brett, but I didn’t care. I had my pride, after all, and I wasn’t going to take this lying down. "You’re breaking up with me to go out with Keith?"

I wasn’t yelling yet, but I was close.

"I can’t fucking believe this."

I knew Keith, a little. He was a big dork who kinda ran in our circle of friends, but way out on the edge. Right now, he was hanging out with the jocks and the cheerleaders down the hall, waiting for Cara to finish up with me, I guess.

"Look, don’t be mad. I don’t want to do this either, Dev."

Yeah, sure. She didn’t look upset about this at all. In fact, she looked almost happy .

"But he’s a really nice guy."

Keith was busy scamming one of the cheerleaders, slobbering all over the front of her sweater.

"Cara, he fucking drools ."

Cara rolled her eyes at me.

"Don’t be such a baby."

"I hear he’s got a really big dick, too." K.C. had turned his walkman down to a dull roar when he noticed I was getting worked up. "That wouldn’t have anything to do with this, would it? Hmmn?"

"Fuck you, K.C."

I grinned maliciously at my buddy.

"Are you saying she’s breaking up with me ‘cause I’ve got a little dick?"

He shrugged into his coat and started stuffing homework into his backpack.

"Nope. Never. Uh-uh. No way. Why would I say something like that? You hurt me with your huge man-meat everyday after gym. Heh."

K.C. cracked up, trying to smooch me. Then he pinned me to my locker and started dry-humping my leg.

"Oh baby, oh baby!" He cackled.

"Knock it off!" I laughed, trying to push him off me.

"You jerks. Shit. Sorry I even tried." Cara threw up her hands and stomped away.

She ignored the cheerleaders glaring at her and grabbed Keith by the arm, dragging him in her wake.

"Ahh. Don’t worry. She’s a dumb twat anyway." K.C. watched her go, and then slapped my back. "Who needs a drink?"

I sighed. "She was my dumb twat."

Cara jumped up on Keith’s back. He ran down the hall, slobbering and giggling like a girl, with her bouncing on his shoulders.

"Not anymore." He turned and zipped the backpack.

"Kinda harsh, man."

I glared at my friend and he shrugged. "It’s a harsh world, Dev. Looks like somebody wants to talk to you." He was staring over my shoulder when a silky smooth female voice startled me.

"Devin?"

I jumped, and turned to find Ms. Bell standing right behind me, smiling.

"Oh, Jeez." I grinned up at her.

In her heels, the top of my head was barely even with the tip of her nose. And I wasn’t a small kid. She looked nice today, kinda sexy, dressed in a tight black skirt that was slit a little way up her thigh, and a sheer, low-cut white blouse.

I tried not to stare at the lace from her bra, just poking over the top of her blouse.

"Could I borrow you for a little while? Maybe half an hour?" She asked. "I need help moving some boxes for tomorrow."

"Uh, sure. I guess so." I looked over at K.C..

"Have fun," he adjusted his earphones, cranked up the volume on his stereo and left me alone in the hall with one of the scariest teachers in school, just minutes after my girlfriend of the last three months, two weeks and four days left me hangin’ and ran off with the Drooler.

How fortunes turn.

"It’s this way," Ms. Bell said over her shoulder. I followed just a little behind her, so I could watch her juicy ass swish in her skirt. "You don’t know how much I appreciate the help. These boxes are really heavy, and the supply guy always sticks the ones I need on the very top shelves."

She turned a little when she spoke, and I snapped my gaze up to her face. She caught me looking, I think, but she smiled and I blushed a little.

"Here we are."

She stopped by the door to a storeroom that was a couple halls over from my locker and picked through a batch of keys. She unlocked the door and ushered me inside. The door shut behind us with a click, and I could hear her breathing next to me in the dark.

I took a long, slow breath of my own, smelling her sweet perfume. Memories of all those days sitting alone with her in class came rushing back. Then she swore and I heard something heavy fall over.

Then the lights went on.

We were in a small room lined from the floor to the ceiling with shelving overflowing with boxes of school supplies. Ms. Bell grinned at me and pointed at a light hand-truck leaning against the wall.

"We’ll put the boxes on that, so you don’t have to carry them."

"Okay."

She pulled out a stepladder and climbed up, balancing on her tippy-toes. Her high heels made her a little wobbly as she stretched out and tugged on a cardboard box.

I couldn’t understand how she could walk in those things, much less stand on a ladder, but she managed it. From my view, her long legs seemed to go on forever, and I stood like an idiot, watching. The hem of her blouse pulled out of the band of her skirt as she stretched and pulled, and I was treated to a nice, if quick, glimpse of her soft, creamy white belly.

She managed to lever the box off the shelf, and almost dropped it on my head. Somehow I managed to catch it; a feat that was just as impressive as her climbing the ladder in her heels. Her hands flew to her mouth with equal parts concern and embarrassment.

"Oh, God! Devin, I’m sorry! Are you okay?"

I plopped the box on the floor next to the hand-truck and shoved it into place with my foot.

"Yeah..." I grunted. "I’m fine. Are you sure you don’t want me to do that instead?"

She was already busy tugging on another box.

"I...think...I’m okay..."

By the time I’d dropped the first box on the hand-truck, she was stretched out full-length, with one foot lifted off the ladder. Her shoe slipped off her foot and dangled from her toes, and she grunted as she pulled and wiggled the box, trying to slide it to the edge of the shelf.

"I’ve...uff...had to do this...by myself...uff...for the last...uhhff...few weeks..." She gave the box a good, hard tug, and her hands slipped. "Hooo...!"

The heavy box fell, almost knocking the ladder over. It teeter-tottered precariously one way, then the other, and she lurched backwards with her arms pin-wheeling for balance. I couldn’t reach the ladder in time to support her, and she slipped and fell, her arms spinning wildly.

Her ass smacked me dead in the face.

As I’ve said, I’m not a small kid, and I’m in pretty good shape. I’ve been on the varsity wrestling team since my freshman year, and I work out or play basketball almost every day. But the impact of her butt mashing into my face snapped my head back, hard.

"Ooomph!"

Somehow, I managed to catch her around her waist and let her slide - slowly - down. She ‘ooophed’ too, and when she was safely on the floor, I held her still until she got her breath back. I tried to block out the pain that was shooting back into my skull from my nose, but I knew there were tears in my eyes when she finally turned around.

"Oh, God! Devin! Are you okay? You’re bleeding!"

She touched the tip of my nose, softly, with her fingertip. I jerked my head away and hissed in pain.

"I’m fine. Really. Just...don’t do that again."

I gently ran my hand over my nose. It was tender and swelling and my eyes were still watering, but nothing felt broken or dislocated.

I’ve had a few accidents during my wrestling career, and this wasn’t bad.

I could live with having her butt shoved into my face.

"Are you sure? I heard you grunt like..."

"No, really. I’m okay." I wiped the blood away and pushed her back at arms length, in case she got any other ideas. "How about you?"

She looked herself up and down, and nodded.

"I’m all right."

"Good," I said, and started up the ladder. The damn thing never tipped over. "My turn now. Just stand back and I’ll finish getting this loaded up." I yanked the crummy box of the shelf and walked back down the ladder. "How many of these do you need?"

Five heavy boxes later, I parked the hand-truck in her classroom and left the boxes next to her desk.

"That’s perfect," she said. "Here."

She gave me the keys to the storage room and I took back the truck while she started unpacking. By the time I got back to her room, she was working on the second box.

"Ms. Bell? Is there anything else I can do for you?" I asked, dropping her keys on her desk. "It’s kinda late, and I think I missed my bus. I should probably get going."

She looked up from the mountain of packing Styrofoam and smiled, gracing me with a great tit shot, right down her blouse. I couldn’t help staring. Her breasts jiggled in her bra as she dumped the static-sticky little peanuts into a big plastic garbage bag. They were a lot bigger than I’d thought.

This time I was sure she caught me looking.

"Linda. Please. We’ve known each other long enough that you can call me Linda. ‘Ms. Bell’ is starting to make me feel old, like I’m the goofy old neighborhood lady who lives in the big, creepy house with a dozen cats and talks to herself." She laughed self-consciously, like she knew what kids said about her, and held up the bag. "Here. If you help me unpack this stuff, I’ll give you a ride home."

"Really?"

"As long as you don’t mind riding with your teacher."

"Sure, okay." I said, my eyes threatening to drift back down to her cleavage. I half-wished she’d sit up, but my dick informed me that I was an idiot to ever think that, and advised me to enjoy the view.

I think she eyed my bulging crotch - just for a second - and smiled before going back to work.

 

About forty-five minutes later, we pulled up to the curb in front of my house in her old VW beetle.

It was still light out, and warm, but the leaves were turning gold and crimson and air had the crisp feel of fall. She hunched down, leaned over me and peered out of the passenger window to admire my house. My dick almost ripped out of my jeans, and I literally got dizzy as the blood drained from my head. Her soft hair brushed my chin as I opened the door and stepped out.

"See you Monday Ms. Bell." Somehow, I managed a weak smile.

"Linda."

I grinned and my dick twitched like a snake that’s just had its head chopped off.

"Right. Sorry." I agreed. "Linda."

"Thanks again Devin. Sorry I squished you."

I wanted to climb back into her car and tell her that she could squish me anytime she wanted. But instead I blushed and shut the car door.

She waved and I stepped back onto the sidewalk.

I live in an older neighborhood, full of big, old bungalows and Victorians. Our house is on a corner lot at the bottom of a hill. Just a few blocks away there’s an elementary school with a big public park, and a popular golf course that takes up several city blocks.

The mother of one of my old friends appeared at the top of the hill, just as Linda beeped her horn and turned the corner.

I met John and his little brother Steve at the park when I was five. My family used to live right across the street, and one day I was there, swinging, when John shoved his brother off the merry-go-round. His mom, Ingrid, yelled and punished him, and John shuffled dejectedly over to the swings.

We were the same age, and we were instant buddies.

Eventually my family moved, buying a house just two doors down from John and his folks.

John’s family, I discovered, were a little odd. They were the family that everybody else in the neighborhood talked about in hushed tones.

John’s dad just never spoke.

At all.

Both he and John’s mom were fitness fiends. Whenever I saw John’s dad, he was working out. Once, John showed me an old trophy that he claimed his dad won at a bodybuilding competition back in the seventies, and a blurry, black and white photo of a huge, muscle-bound guy that didn’t look anything like his dad.

John’s mom was from Germany. She and his dad met mountain climbing in Switzerland, and she moved back here with him after she got pregnant. She was a nurse in Germany, but had an awful time finding work here.

They had a lousy marriage.

I think John was about seven when they divorced. His dad kept the house here, and she took the kids and moved back home.

A few years later (for some reason John could never figure out), they moved back, and John’s dad moved out. This time, Steve went to live with his dad. But John stayed with his mom, and he quickly turned into a thug.

John inherited his dad’s thick, muscular build and his mom’s height. By the time he was twelve he probably stood around six feet tall, and he was already into some serious drugs. That was when he started hanging out with a really rough crowd. He barely made it through his freshman year, and things just got worse, especially with his mom nagging him all the time. When he started ripping off cars and stealing to support his habit, we pretty much stopped hanging out.

He spent a lot of time in juvie, and his mom spent a lot of time crying, wondering what she did to turn him into the big, violent creep he was becoming.

My mom was always nice to Ingrid (unlike most of the other people who lived in the neighborhood), I think partly because she felt bad for her. She always called her Inga. To this day, I think I’m the only person outside of her family who knew her first name.

Ingrid had few things in common with her ex-husband, as far as I could tell, except for their kids and excercise. She never failed to take a long walk every night around six or seven o’clock, when it started to cool down. Over this last summer, I usually saw her leave the house dressed in a little tank top, satin running shorts and tennis shoes. She wasn’t a pretty woman, really, but striking. She was tall, lean and long, graceful, and she carried herself with kind of a regal bearing, which is one reason I figured the neighbors didn’t like her; I think she threatened them. She wore her light blonde hair unflatteringly hacked off just above her shoulders, and always had a dissaproving, pinched look to her face, like she’d just tasted something sour.

I never noticed any effort by her to appear feminine or attractive.

But over the summer, the sun had turned her freckled skin a nice, golden brown, and her hair almost glowed with light blonde streaks. The pale blue satin shorts she wore on her walks emphasized the smooth muscles in her butt, legs and calves. And today, instead of her usual tank top, her perky breasts were packed into a white sports bra. Her footie-socks had little balls of blue cotton that bounced at the back of her sneakers as she loped down the hill towards me.

"Devin!" She greeted me with a smile and stopped to watch Linda drive away. "Who was that?"

"One of my teachers. I stayed late today to help her with some stuff, so she gave me a ride."

"That was nice of her," she said.

"Yeah. Hey, how’s John?" I asked.

She frowned. Her German accent was thick when she finally answered.

"Johnny...Johnny was arrested again."

I didn’t know what to say to that. John had been arrested continuously over the last few years.

"Really? I’m sorry."

"He’s going to be sent to jail for...for a long time, I think. He..." she swallowed; her thin lips trembled as if she were fighting back tears. "He was caught stealing a car, and he was full of the drugs. He fought a policeman! Did I raise my sons to be like this? To have no respect?"

I didn’t know what to say, so I shrugged. "I’m sure he’ll be okay, Ingrid." Somehow, that seemed to calm her down. She sniffled and smiled at me.

"After, he doesn’t want to come back home. H says he’s going to live with his father, just like Stephen. I’ll never see my boys again." She sniffled again and wiped her eyes. "You’re a good boy, Devin. I wish my Johnny would’ve been more like you."

I felt sorry for her. I think she tried to be a good mom. For some reason, I gave her a hug, and she collapsed against me and bawled like a baby on my shoulder.

"It’s all my fault," she sobbed. "I...I don’t know what to do..."

"I’m sorry..." I said, and rubbed her back. I felt her shoulder blades under her shirt, felt her body trembling against me, and I started to get horny. My dick slowly pushed out of the top of my jeans, and I tried to back my hips away from her so she wouldn’t notice my boner.

Eventually, she cried herself out.

She wiped her eyes, smiled, and gave my cheek a little kiss.

My dick throbbed.

"Johnny’s going to be home this weekend to pack his things. You should come and have dinner with us and help me say goodbye."

"Oh. Well. I don’t know..." I shuffled my feet and tried to back out of this as gracefully as I could.

"Please? You’re my Johnny’s best friend. I...I don’t think I can..."

She started to cry again. I took her by the shoulders and gave her a little smile.

"Okay. Sure. I’ll be there. When?"

She sniffled again. "Tomorrow? I’ll send Johnny by?"

"Sure. Sounds good."

"Thank you. Thank you, Devin."

She smiled happily, and I swear, she almost skipped home.

I exhaled with a whoosh.

"The shit I get myself into." I laughed at myself, and went inside to jack off.

That afternoon I told my folks what was going on, and they both wished me luck. Ingrid’s an awful cook besides being a health fiend, and I’ve suffered through many an interesting meal over at John’s.

He used to live to spend the night at my house, just so he could eat normal food.

The first time he stayed with us, he ate two boxes of Fruity Puffs and a dozen donuts in one sitting. And God bless my mom. John loved her, partly because she always covered for his sugar high when he went home to soybean pancakes and tofu bacon.

Needless to say, I was not looking forward to dinner.

John ambled over around six o’clock. His eyes were puffy red slits and I could smell the pot cloud that surrounded him as soon as he stepped through the door. Having been a hippy in the sixties, my mom wasn’t a fool about drugs. She wrinkled her nose when John gave her a hug hello, but she smiled and they talked for a few minutes.

"Well. You take care John." She said, finally. I wanted to get going and get this over with.

She patted my shoulder and gave me an encouraging smile.

"Enjoy dinner."

"S’up, Dev?" John bopped my fist.

I shook my head.

"Not much."

What the hell do you say to a guy who you haven’t seen in three years, a day before he goes to jail? Have fun? Write soon?

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, sure. What?"

He squinted at me and lit a cigarette.

"What the fuck did you say to my mom yesterday?"

"Huh?" I didn’t know what he was talking about.

"She’s all dressed up, like the fucking mom in Leave It to Beaver, dancing around the house with this shit-eating grin on her face. It’s like I’m going off to college instead a’ jail." He took a deep drag and puffed out a swirling ring of smoke. "So what the fuck did you talk to her about, dude?"

"Nothing. I just stood there. She talked. She was upset about you."

He shook his head and took another deep drag, flicking ashes into the breeze. His cigarette was already half gone.

"Crazy."

We reached his house just as it was getting dark. John reached over and unlatched the gate to their driveway. The gate swung in with a squeal, and we stood outside while he finished his smoke.

"You ready for dinner?"

I grinned. At least we still had this in common.

"I dunno. What’s cooking?"

He grinned back, dropped his smoldering butt on the cement and ground it out with the toe of his boot.

"Some nasty shit." He sighed. "You’d think I could at least get a real fuckin’ dinner on my last night here."

He clapped me on the shoulder.

"C’mon in. I’ve still gotta pack up some stuff. We can toke out for a while ‘till the shit’s ready."

The side door opened onto a landing which led in two directions: downstairs, where John’s dad used to keep his weights, and up a few steps to a swinging door and the main floor of the house.

John hopped up the steps and smacked the door open.

"Hey, Ma! Devin’s here!"

He led me down a short hallway, and whispered, "Check her out."

I peeked around the corner. Ingrid was in the kitchen, a daisy-decorated potholder pulled over her hand, bent over the open stove, giving me a nice view of her ass.

John wasn’t kidding.

Ingrid was wearing a black dress with a full skirt that was a good thirty years out of fashion, with black stockings and heels. She’d curled the tips of her hair, and a string of tiny pearls gleamed around her neck. I could see a matching set of earrings under her bobbed hair. She stood up and almost floated over to me, her skirt swirling around her long legs. She gave me a bone-crushing hug, and a flowery perfume over-powered the rancid smell of whatever was cooking in the stove.

She saw me and broke into a giddy smile.

"Devin! I’m so glad you could come tonight!"

John rolled his bloodshot eyes and I stiffly patted her back.

"C’mon, Mom. Let Dev go. We’re gonna head upstairs ‘till dinner’s done, okay?"

Ingrid let me out of her clinch, and grinned.

"Good, good. Dinner will be ready soon."

"Cool. C’mon up, Dev."

I followed John up to his room. He pushed open his door and crashed on his filthy bed. I settled into the captain’s chair by his battered old desk while he lit up a huge bong and took a hit. The aroma didn’t smell like pot to me, but I guessed that I could of been mistaken; it’d been a long while since I’d smoked anything.

"See what I mean?" He grunted, and offered me a puff.

I took a nice long hit, held the smoke in for a second, and coughed.

"Yeah."

Definitely not pot. Whatever it was though, it was nice and smooth.

John opened a window and waved for the bong.

"Should you be doing that?" I asked. "I mean, y’know, since you’re..."

"Going to jail?" He grinned and puffed away. "Shit. What’re they gonna do, bust me again?"

I shrugged and looked at the bong.

"What is that stuff?"

He kicked off his shoes.

"Hash."

My eyes popped open.

"S’matter? Don’t you like it?"

I was already feeling pretty good.

"It’s...it’s not bad."

He blew smoke out the window and laughed.

"What?"

He laughed harder.

"I bet you could fuck her."

"Who?"

"My mom."

He must be stoned, I thought, and giggled.

"No way."

John rolled over on his back and pillowed his head in his hands. He grinned at me and wiggled his feet.

"Yeah. I bet you could. She’s got the fuckin’ hots for you, dude. That’s probably why she’s all dressed up."

"Naw."

"Think about it. She’s wearing fucking nylons, man. I haven’t seen her dressed like this since... since..." He stared at the ceiling, trying to remember. "Fuck. Forever, dude. I think I remember her an’ my dad going out to dinner once when I was little. For an anniversary, maybe? I dunno. It’s been a long fuckin’ time."

"Quit shitting me."

"I’m not. You know what?" He grinned and hiccupped. "She’s got some nice titties."

I felt my eyes bug out, and my jaw dropped.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"No, seriously. Dude, I’ve seen her when she gets out of the shower, after she gets back from her walks. She’s got nice tits. Her ass is okay, too." He laughed again. "You thinkin’ she doesn’t shave?"

I blinked at him. "What?"

He shrugged. "Well, y’know. She’s German an’ all. But she shaves her pits and her legs. Really. I know her face’s butt-ugly, but you could just bend her over the counter and..."

Just then, a soft knock at the door. I pushed the bong behind my chair as Ingrid poked her head into the room.

"Dinner’s ready! Why don’t you boys wash up?"

John was giggling so hard he couldn’t talk, so I piped up.

"We’ll be down in a minute."

Ingrid smiled happily and we heard her heels clicking down the wood stairs.

"She’s not that ugly..." I started, and John burst out laughing.

"HA!" His feet flopped around. "You would fuck her!"

"John, she’s your mom, man. What the hell are you talking about?"

A light went on behind his bleary eyes.

"Dude! I know! Here, I’ll get something to help you."

He rolled back over and slid off his bed. There was a small door next to his desk that led to a storage area that ran along the entire side of the house. When we were kids, it was our secret agent hide-out. For the last few years, John used it to hide his stash.

"Here," he said, and shoved a big, folded cardboard box at me.

I opened it up.

"Holy crap. John."

"I’m not gonna need any of that shit for a while. It’s all yours."

"Look man, I can’t..."

"Yeah, yeah. Yeah you can. Use it to fuck her. There’s at least a years worth of acid and a bunch of other shit in there. Some dude gave me a ton of that date rape drug too. Where the fuck did I put it..."

He dug around in the box and pulled out blotters of acid, little packets of stuff that looked like sugar, and baggies of white powder and pot. He found a packet of the sugary stuff, shook it and stuffed it in his pocket, grinning wickedly.

"That should do it. C’mon. We’ll get her fucked up. If we’re lucky, we won’t even have to eat the crap she made."

He scrambled up.

"You’re gonna drug your mom." I shook my head.

"Yep. And we’re gonna screw her."

"What? You..."

"Dude. I’m horny. Pussy’s pussy. And I ain’t gonna be gettin’ any for a long fucking time."

I sat there with the open box in my lap.

"C’mon Dev. Let’s go."

Ingrid fussed as we got ready to eat.

"Johnny, you sit here, and Devin, you sit there..."

John got the chair at the head of the table. His mom sat to his right, across from me. She spread her napkin in her lap and smiled at me, then bent her head to say grace. I watched John roll his eyes and whisper obscenities at her until she finished.

She looked up and smiled. The table looked as dressed up and ready for a formal party as she did.

"Okay. Johnny, will you serve us, please?"

John grinned at me.

"Yeah, sure mom." He picked up a large, covered serving dish, and paused. "Hey, mom, could you get me one of those big fork things?"

"Oh." She looked around the table. "I thought I laid out..."

"Nope."

"I’ll be right back."

She left her napkin and walked back to the kitchen. John pulled out the little packet from his pocket and tore it open, then dumped the powder into her glass of water.

"John!" I whispered. "Shit! Don’t..."

He grinned and held his finger up to his lips, then used it to stir her water. He gave me a thumbs-up, and pulled a serving fork out from under the table.

"Hey, mom! I found it!"

Ingrid clicked back in from the kitchen.

"It was here all the time."

He pulled the cover off the platter and wrinkled his nose. Steam rose from what looked like dirt brown sawdust that had been formed into something resembling pork chops.

"Smells...good." My stomach flip-flopped when John handed me my plate of...stuff. "What, uh, what’s for dinner?"

Ingrid beamed.

"Soy steaks. I know you boys like meat, but it’s so bad for you. This is much better. It’s good food for you. It will help you be strong men. Don’t wait for me...go ahead." She waved her hands in the air. "Eat."

John was busy staring at his plate, poking at the brown crap with his fork. He looked as queasy as I felt. But I took a bite, and somehow managed to choke it down between gulps of water. I reached for the pitcher in the middle of the table and re-filled my glass.

"Whew!" Thank God John hadn’t poured the drugs into the pitcher. I was going to need a lot of water to get this shit down.

"Good, yes?" Ingrid took a dainty bite and smiled.

I was struggling to appear gracious in the face of desperation. So I hope I can be forgiven for forgetting about the drugs in her water, at least for the moment.

Ingrid reached for her glass and guzzled half of it before I could say anything.

John grinned at his plate of slop.

Nothing I can do now, I thought. So I crossed my fingers and tried the salad.

Halfway through the meal, she started to sweat.

"Oh, my." She dabbed at her forehead with her napkin. "It’s much too warm in here, isn’t it?

John looked up. Somehow he’d managed not to touch much of anything on his plate.

"It’s okay. You all right mom?"

She clutched the table and blinked at us.

"I...I don’t feel...very...well."

John pushed back his chair and stood up.

"Must be the dinner, mom. Spoiled soybean shit can fuck you up."

She was out of it.

"I feel so...odd...you shouldn’t talk like that...Johnny..."

John walked over to her as her head started to roll. He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. Her eyes fluttered, and a thin line of spit drooled out of the corner of her mouth.

"I gave her enough to fuck her up for the rest of the night. Watch."

John smacked her face with the back of his hand, and she groaned.

"Shit! John, knock it off."

"She can’t even feel it. Here, let’s check her out."

He grabbed the front of her dress and yanked it open. He pulled the ripped material down to her waist, pinning her flailing arms to her sides.

I have to admit, I must’ve been really stoned to even think about going through with this shit. But when I saw her rosy, pink nipples behind the black lace of her bra, my dick about burst out of my jeans.

"See?" He leaned over, grabbed her tits and gave ‘em each a good squeeze.

He was right. They weren’t all that big, but they were a nice, firm handful. And perky.

"Move the shit on the table. I wanna lay her down."

I shoved plates and glasses out of the way, and John pulled his mom out of her chair and bent her face-first over her dining room table.

His breath hissed between his teeth as he rucked her skirt up over her hips.

"Gimme that knife."

"Wha...?"

"The sharp one. I’m gonna cut through this shit."

I handed him the knife and watched him slice a hole in his mom’s nylons, and then her panties. My chest hitched as he tossed the knife onto the floor and tore the hole wider, until her first her crotch was exposed, then her ass.

He leaned back and smacked it. I watched it jiggle as she moaned and clutched at her white linen tablecloth.

"Fuck. Look at that."

John glanced up at me, and his eyes were dead cold. He wrapped one hand around his mom’s neck and pinned her to the table, and dropped his pants with the other. His dick popped out of his boxer shorts, already red and swollen.

"Me first," he grinned, and then shoved his cock deep into his moms pussy.

Her eyes popped open, and she screamed silently, her fists knotting in the tablecloth. She kicked and squirmed; the toes of her shoes scraping on the wood floor, but John just grabbed her ass, pulled her closer, and closed his eyes.

"Awww, yeah."

I watched him dork his mom for a minute, my dick throbbing. She was making little mewling sounds, and her ass rippled with each of his thrusts.

And I decided: what the fuck, I wanted some, too.

So I climbed up onto the table, and pulled down my pants and my underwear. My cock fell on top of her head, and I grabbed her by the ears and pulled her face up so it was level with my dick. John grinned and grabbed her boobs to help prop her up. She swallowed and sputtered as I rubbed my dick around on her face, and her hands grabbed and clenched at my pants.

I squeezed her cheeks until her lips opened, and pushed myself into her warm, wet mouth.

"Ahhh...Damn, that feels good."

She kicked harder, but didn’t bite down. John was fucking her hard now, grunting and pounding into her. I relaxed and let my hips do the walking, feeling the muscles in her throat constrict as I eased further in.

Ingrid looked up at me with pleading, glassy eyes while we nailed her from each end. My balls twitched and clenched, and just that fast, I came in her mouth, shooting off a huge load.

"Fuck..." I whispered to myself, pulling her face as close to me as I could.

I enjoyed my orgasm, feeling her throat constrict as she tried to swallow my cum. A little bit of spooge dribbled out of her mouth and down her neck. Her hands were wrapped around my ass and her whole body was stiff with either pain or the drugs, I couldn’t tell which. I popped out of her mouth as John started smacking her ass.

"Goddamn fucking bitch!" He was screaming as he hit her, her ass quickly turning a bright pink. "Screw with me? You fucking bitch! Turn me in to the goddamn cops! Fuck you! Ghuhrrrhhhahh!!"

John grabbed her ass like he was trying to peel an orange, sinking his fingers deep into her soft flesh. I saw blood seep around his fingernails as her skin tore, and he jerked a few times, groaning like an animal. Then he shoved her body back onto the table and laughed.

"Oh, fuck! That felt so fucking awesome!"

His mom slipped off the table, smacking her chin on the edge as she fell. I heard her teeth clack together, and she fell in a heap on the dining room floor.

John laughed harder and stroked his dick. Ingrid absent-mindedly wiped the spooge and blood off her chin, and started crawling blindly towards the living room.

The sight of her hips up in the air sent my dick raging again, and I rolled off the table, right on top of her, shoving her into the floor. Because of her stockings, Ingrid’s feet couldn’t get any purchase on the smooth wood floor, and she scrambled, kicking and clawing, making her ass rub against my cock. I stretched out on her back, spit on my hand, then reached down and lubed up my dick. I pinned her down and let my penis slide around until I found her butthole.

She let out a hoarse scream as I wedged myself into her ass. A few good, hard pushes, and I was in, nice and snug.

John stepped around in front of her and sat on his butt, locking her arms under his knees and cradling her head in his lap. I wrapped my arms around her waist and started fucking her ass, slowly grinding my hips into her, taking my time. I let my hand drift down until I was cupping her pussy. Her pubic hair was soft and curly, and was so thick it felt like she never trimmed it. I toyed with her pussy until her clit poked against my probing fingers.

Ingrid stopped fighting, and I was surprised to hear her moan around John’s dick as it slid into her mouth.

The rest of the night, we took our time. Just two stoned, horny teenage boys, alone with a woman who we could do whatever we wanted to with. We fucked her for hours, finally calling it a night around two in the morning. Somehow the three of us ended up in the living room. John and I were completely naked. He was sprawled out on the couch, half asleep, and I sat on the floor with my head resting against the side of a chair. My dick was lying flopped over my thigh, scraped raw and stinging. Ingrid had passed out next to me with her head in my lap, her old dress and her underwear torn to shreds.

John was staring at her.

"You should probably head home," he said. "I’m gonna have to figure out a way to explain this shit to her when she sobers up."

He was right. How the fuck were we gonna explain all the bruises and cuts on her body? Or her clothes?

"How the hell are we going to do that?"

He shrugged.

"I dunno. But I’ll think of something. It’d probably be a good idea for you to leave though."

"But...I could..."

"What? Get arrested for raping my mom with me? No fucking way."

"John look..."

He tossed my shirt at me.

"Dev, really. Get dressed and go home."

I stood up and Ingrid’s head bonked on the floor. She just moaned in her sleep.

"And don’t forget the box." I shook my head, but he waved his hand at me. "I’m serious. If you get horny, use that shit. We always keep the basement windows unlocked. Just sneak in some night when she’s at work, drop some in her water or tea or whatever, and hang out for a while. If you wait long enough she’ll never know what happened, and you can get your rocks off whenever you want to." He yawned and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. "Hey. Promise me something?"

"Sure. What?" I pulled on my underwear and went looking for my pants.

"Be sure to tell me if you do it again. Cool?"

I nodded.

"Cool."

 

I didn’t see John again before he left. Or his mom. Somehow a rumor started making the rounds through the neighborhood that John had gotten stoned out of his mind and then beaten Ingrid up badly enough that she had to go to the hospital. I started feeling guilty as soon as I heard it from my mom.

To this day, I still don’t know how John feels about what we did.

And then Monday rolled around, and back to school I went.

My next week was pretty uneventful. I spent my lunch periods hanging out with my friends and avoiding Cara and Keith, who suddenly seemed attached at the hip. By Friday, I’d heard through the grapevine that Keith had already cheated on Cara with a couple of cheerleaders, and he was going to drop out of school and try to get a job as a bouncer at one of the underage strip clubs downtown.

Go Keith.

On friday afternoon, Ms. Bell corralled me after class and asked me to help her again.

I said sure. Why not?

Today she was wearing a dark blue blouse with shoulder pads and a tight, light grey skirt over the kind of black stockings with the little line running down the back of her legs. A fragile gold chain hung from her neck, dangling in her cleavage, and thin gold hoop earrings flashed when she turned her head.

I followed her back to the storeroom, the clicking of her high heels on the tile floor reminding me of Ingrid walking around in her kitchen. By the time she unlocked the door, I had a boner stretching out my pants.

My dick was so hard it hurt.

She brought out the ladder and started up again, but this time I stopped her with one of my hands on her arm, and my other around her waist.

"I don’t think so, Ms. Be...uh...Linda. Not like last week. Okay?"

She smiled.

"All right."

I filled up the hand-truck and hauled another batch of the heavy boxes to her room. We spent the next hour or two unpacking, and she told me stories about living in Europe while she was in college. Finally, I stood up and stretched, popping my back.

"Look," she said. "It’s dark again. Would you like another ride?"

The clock said six-thirty. There wouldn’t be another bus for at least half an hour.

"Sure. That’d be great."

"I have to run by my house first, if that’s okay."

I think I blushed. I know I smiled.

"Sure. No problem."

Linda lived a few miles from school in the opposite direction from my house, in a small apartment complex that had converted to condominiums. We pulled into the parking lot and she led me to a tidy, two floor condo. She unlocked the door and I followed her inside.

As soon as she opened the door, I heard the squawks. When she flicked on the lights, I found myself in a tiny living room, full of comfortable, feminine furniture. In a cage hanging from a metal post was a brilliant red parrot, who took one look at me and squawked again.

"Cutie-pie! Cutie-pie!" It climbed the bars of its gage and recited that phrase over and over, staring me up and down.

"He likes you," said Linda. "He doesn’t usually like men."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hmm." She held out a bag of sunflower seeds. "Here. Why don’t you feed him? He’ll love you forever."

I grinned and took a small handful of kernels from the bag. Then I thought of every parrot I’ve ever seen at pet stores. They always have some freaky sign taped to their cages, warning people to stay away or they’ll bite. I paused.

"How should I do this?

"Just move slowly, so you don’t scare him, and rest your hand next to his cage."

"Okay."

I pressed the side of my hand on the bars of his cage, with the seeds resting on my open palm.

"What’s his name?"

"Bert."

I laughed.

"Like..." I started.

"Ernie and."

She grinned back at me as Bert sidled closer to my hand. He looked at me sideways, ruffling his feathers.

"Cutie-pie!" He croaked, and gently nibbled at a sunflower seed, poking his sharp beak through the cage bars.

"Ernie lives with my sister in France." Linda watched Bert crack open the seed and discard the shell. "Sometimes Bert gets lonely here all by himself. Don’t you Sweetie-pie?"

She cooed at her bird, and he pressed the top of his head against the cage. She kissed him, and he bounced around, squawking happily.

"He likes to dance. See?"

"Cookie! Cookie for Bert!" He repeated, doing a little sidestep.

"Cute," I said.

Linda smiled at me.

"How would you like a quick tour?"

The place looked about as big as a shoe box. But why not?

"Uh, sure?"

She showed me her tiny kitchen and her dining room. Other than the living room, that was pretty much it for downstairs. Then she took me upstairs and showed me her office, which consisted of a nice old roll top desk with a comfy chair, a small home theater system and a couch that were tucked into the spare bedroom. There was a tiny bathroom by the stairs, and she almost - almost - let me peek in her bedroom.

"Oh, shit." She shut the door in a hurry. I barely saw a pink comforter draped over a large, neatly made bed. "Sorry. Too messy."

We stood in the hallway, inches apart, and a sudden, uncomfortable silence fell between us.

"Umm. So...so you live here all alone?" I asked.

"Yes. Well, usually. Except for Bert, I..."

A telephone rang in her study.

"Excuse me," she said, and left me alone to study pictures of her and another, younger woman, both bundled up for cold weather, smiling happily at the camera. I recognized the Eiffel tower in the background of a couple photos. The woman looked a little bit like Linda, but nowhere near as severe. I assumed it was her sister.

In the other room, I could hear Linda trying to pacify whoever had called.

"I’ll be right there, Mrs. Kline. In just a minute. I have a guest...No. It’s no trouble. Of course. I will. Bye-bye."

Linda hung up, and when she stepped out of the room she smiled like she was afraid I’d left while she was talking.

"I think I interrupted something important." I said.

"Oh no. That was Mrs. Kline. She lives next door. We usually have dinner together on Friday nights, because her kids can’t get here on the weekends. I told her I might be late tonight, but she was getting worried. I just need to run over there for a minute, and then we can go. Do...would you like to meet her? She’s really a sweet lady..."

"Actually," I hooked my thumb at the bathroom. "Would you mind if I use your restroom instead? I had a huge soda at lunch, and..."

She grinned.

"Go right ahead. I’m going to run over and take her some dinner, though. You don’t mind waiting for me?"

I shook my head.

"Not a bit."

She rustled around downstairs while I stood over the toilet. There was a fluffy pink seat-cover on the lid that kept knocking it closed, so I had to piss bent over, holding the stupid lid up.

I was shaking the last drops out when I heard the front door open, and Linda shouted up the stairs. "I’ll be back in a few minutes!"

"Okay!" I yelled back, then I buttoned my jeans and flushed the toilet. The house was quiet, and I started downstairs to hang out with Bert, but something stopped me after the first step.

There’s no way I can explain the urge that made me turn around and open her bedroom door.

But that’s exactly what I did.

I turned on the light and looked around.

Linda’s bedroom, like the rest of her house, was immaculate and girly; from the ruffled pink fringe on her bedspread to her choice of pictures to her antique furniture. But it was the roomiest room in the house, and it had its own bathroom that was decked out in more frilly pink.

"Looks okay to me," I said to myself. "I don’t see what the...problem...was..."

In the other corner of the room was a heavy wood contraption, pushed up against the wall.

"What the fuck...?"

I stepped over to it and ran my hand along the gleaming wood of the top bar.

"Holy shit."

Linda had a rack. A real life, straight out of the middle-ages, lock you up to punish you rack. Or a stockade, I guess.

Whatever.

The thing that you lock some poor idiots head and arms into, bending them over into a...uncomfortably compromising position.

You know what I mean.

"What the hell do you use this for, Linda?"

Backing away from her...torture device, I bumped into the corner of her dresser, knocking over some small framed photos.

"Shit!"

I straightened up, trying to put everything back in the same spots, and the urge hit me again.

"Let’s see what we’ve got in here."

I opened a drawer. Inside were carefully folded blouses, and a box of knickknacks.

Downstairs, Bert let out a squawk, and I almost jumped out of my skin. I shut the drawer and listened, my heart racing, but Bert quieted down.

"Shit," I said, sweating a little. I swallowed around a hitch in my throat, and tried another, smaller drawer. "Oh, yeah."

I found a drawer full of lacy underwear. I ran my hands over Linda’s panties, and I got an instant boner. I was having trouble breathing, and my hands started to shake.

"Oh, God."

Suddenly, all I wanted to do was jack off, right then and there. Taking a deep breath, I managed to pull myself back together.

First, I thought, ‘I gotta tell the guys about this’, but then I realized nobody’d believe me.

I needed a trophy, for proof. I almost just grabbed the first thing I saw, but some barely functioning part of my brain made me pull back my hand before I took anything.

"No. Not the stuff she wears."

Flipping through the stacks of bra’s and panties, I found a lacy black g-string crumpled into a ball way at the back of the drawer, and a matching, see-through, push up bra. I pulled them both out of the drawer, and shook them out.

I smelled them, inhaling deeply, then held them up to the light, letting them dangle in my hands.

They were so enticing; I almost forgot where I was.

Bert squawked again downstairs, and I jumped and shoved the undies into my pockets. I walked as quickly as I could to the door, but the house was still quiet.

"Fuck," I said, wiping my forehead. "Damn bird."

I knew I was pushing my luck and I was going to turn off the light and leave, but her closet caught my eye. I glanced over the railing at the front door, and decided to gamble.

"Let’s see what we’ve got in here..."

Linda had a typical walk-in closet, with sliding doors that pulled open. Dresses and a few tailored suits with matching skirts hung from a pole on one side, with her high heel shoes and a pair of running shoes lined up on the floor.

But the other side...

I whistled.

"Holy shit."

Hanging on the other side of the closet were uniforms: leather bondage gear, a French maid outfit, and a nurses uniform. Hung from a rack on the wall was a ton of S&M gear: leather masks, ball gags, whips and riding crops, handcuffs and padded leather shackles, dildoes of all sizes and shapes. Bottles of lubricant and a fishbowl full of condoms sat on a small dresser.

I blinked, and my mouth fell open. I picked up a pair of the heavy leather shackles. The long, thin chains tinkled. One of the dildoes had fallen off the tabletop, and I picked it up. It flopped over in my hand, and I looked at Linda’s bed, realizing that hidden under her sweet, girlie bedclothes was a sturdy steel bed frame and headrest.

"OhMyGod. She’s a fucking bondage queen."

I was so enthralled with my discovery that I hadn’t heard the front door open. I was standing there with her chains and her dildo when Linda stepped into the room.

"Devin?" The shock on her face almost made me drop the sex toys. "What are you doing?"

"I, uh...I just...found these..." I stuttered, and the big rubber penis flopped around again. I felt my face and neck burn and turn bright red.

Her face got hard and cold.

"Put those down right now. I’m taking you home."

 

That was the most uncomfortable car ride of my life.

Neither of us spoke. Linda stared straight ahead, her pale face flushed and both of her small hands gripped the steering wheel.

For the most part, I just tried to disappear into my seat. I cleared my throat once, and she clenched her teeth tight enough that the small muscles along her jaw popped.

I shut up the rest of the way home.

She squealed to a stop next to my house, and I tried to apologize.

"Linda, look, I’m sorry. I really didn’t..."

"Ms. Bell."

"Wha...oh. Okay. Ms. Bell, I’m s..."

"Get out of my car. Right... now...!"

"Please, I let m..."

"GET OUT!"

I got out.

As soon as I shut the door, she revved the noisy little engine, and then I was alone. Dejected, I stuck my hands in my pockets, and grinned when my fingers wrapped around my plundered trophies.

The next week was pretty rough.

Apparently Cara didn’t think I’d been fucked up enough after she broke up with me, so every chance she got, she made a point of flinging herself at Keith and shoving her tongue in his mouth.

That didn’t really piss me off, to tell the truth. It just got me a little queasy when the spit started dripping.

What did put a wrench into my day was looking forward to last period Spanish.

And Linda.

Linda - err, Ms. Bell - only spoke with me during class if she absolutely had to, and she wouldn’t look at me at all.

Something made me not tell the guys about my little discovery. I didn’t feel ashamed, really, or embarrassed. I think I felt disappointed. Like I’d teetered on the edge of a sexual revelation, and instead of falling in, I backed up.

I carried around her stolen panties with me, playing with them wherever I went. I couldn’t stop fantasizing about her, dressed up in her lingerie or her costumes, fucking me.

It was worse in class.

Every day I walked out of the classroom, reeling in pain from the continuous hard-on that would pop up as soon as I saw her. Jacking off brought no relief. And believe me, I tried.

When the last bell rang on Friday afternoon, I packed up my notebook and hurried the door with the rest of the spawn, holding my backpack over my throbbing groin. I tried not to meet Ms. Bell’s eyes and just get out as fast as I could.

"Devin. Please come here."

Oh shit, I thought. I’m in trouble.

She was leaning against the edge of her desk with her arms folded across her chest. As the last of the kids filed out, she smiled sweetly at me.

"You’re leaving?" She asked.

Hell, yeah. No reason to hang around here.

"I thought...I guess I didn’t think you’d want me to help after..."

She waved her hand.

"Those boxes are still much too heavy for me. Besides, you know what to do. We can finish faster if you’re helping."

"Well, okay, I guess. But I need to catch..."

She nodded, grinning.

"Your bus. I know. If it’s okay, I’m willing to give you a ride. We might be here a while later than usual tonight, though."

After not speaking to me for a week, she was suddenly a little too sweet. A tiny alarm went off in the back of my head. But she dropped her arms and gripped the side of the desk, leaning further back. I looked her up and down, and swallowed hard.

Today she was wearing a dress with a full length skirt. It buttoned up the front, starting around her knees and ending at a swooping neckline. She was wearing a pearl necklace that looked just like Ingrid’s'.

The sight of her cleavage when her body shifted caused my dick to short-circuit my brain.

"Okay. Cool." I said. "I, uh, I’m sorry about last week. I..."

She shushed me with a finger to my lips. When she smiled my dick throbbed in my pants, and my lips tingled where she touched me.

Then she put me to work.

She sat at her desk, and by the time we - I - finished, I was sweating like a pig.

"There." I said. "All done."

"Good. Let’s go."

The school was deserted except for a janitor sweeping a stairwell at the other end of the hall. When we stepped outside, stars were already twinkling and the moon lit our way as we walked to her car. She unlocked my door and then walked around to the drivers’ side, then she squeezed in next to me and handed me her purse.

"Hold this?"

"Okay."

It was late October, just a day shy of Halloween. The day had been sunny and warm, but now it was freezing out. She started the car and turned on the beetle’s heat.

"It’ll take a minute to warm up," she said, and pulled out of the school parking lot. Jack-o’-lanterns grinned at us from the porches of the houses as we drove by.

"What are you doing for Halloween? Are you going to any parties?"

I shook my head.

"No. I didn’t make any plans, after the other day...uh, you know...I guess I didn’t feel like doing much. My folks and my sister are gone for the weekend, so I was just gonna rent some movies and stay home." I glanced at her. "How about you?"

She licked her lips.

"I’ve made some arrangements."

"Huh?"

She looked at me and smiled. In the dark, her smile didn’t seem to reach her eyes.

"I’m having a party tomorrow night. How would you like to...be my date?"

I blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"Would you like to go to my party? I think it will be fun."

I stared at her, no idea what to say.

"You’re kidding. Right?"

"No. Really. I’d like for you to be there."

My dick started screaming, ‘Say yes! You bonehead!’, so I said, "Sure. Okay."

She smiled. I was shocked enough that I didn’t notice where she was driving until she parked and cut the engine.

I looked around dumbly.

"Here we are," she said brightly.

"This...this is your house." I stuttered.

"Come on inside." She unsnapped her seatbelt, opened her door and stepped out of the car.

"But I..."

"Come on. I want to show you something."

"But..."

"Hurry. It’s cold."

She waited for me to get out and shut my door, and then she took my arm in hers and marched me to her porch. She jingled her keys, unlocked the front door and smiled at me. Bert greeted us as we walked in.

"Cutie-pie! Cutie-pie!"

Linda fed him a sunflower seed.

"He’s been asking about you all week. You must have made an impression on him."

"I...guess so." I said, and frowned. "Is that what you wanted to show me?"

Linda shook her head, unbuckled the belt around her waist and slipped out of her coat. She laid it over the back of her couch, walked back to me and stopped just inches away. I could feel her breath on my face.

"You did something very bad the other night." She said, and laid her hands on my chest.

A tingle shot through my body when she touched me, and I knew she could see the bulge in my pants. I swallowed around a lump in my throat, and my voice sounded suddenly hoarse.

"Yeah, I know. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have gone in your room, but..."

She was tracing a little zigzag patter on my chest with a long, red fingernail.

"But you were intrigued."

"Yeah. I guess so..."

She edged even closer and looked down into my eyes. God, she was tall.

"Did you...like what you found?"

I couldn’t believe this was happening. A week ago, she looked like she wanted to kill me. And now...

"Um. Yes?"

"Have you been thinking about me?" She whispered, and eased my jacket over my shoulders.

It fell to the floor and she kicked it away.

A mantra was playing in my head, flowing through my mind over and over, in time with my throbbing dick.

Oh God oh God oh God...

"Yes..." I breathed.

She smiled and leaned over, like she was going to kiss me. Her dark brown eyes fluttered.

"Good..."

Her soft, ruby red lips parted and the little pink tip of her tongue flicked out. She pressed against me and wrapped her arms around my neck, then softly licked my lips, running her moist tongue lightly over my upper lip, then my lower lip, and back. I shivered, and her warm thigh rubbed against my crotch. She played with my hair, gently biting my lower lip with her sharp, white teeth.

I was frozen stiff.

She nibbled my lip and wiggled against me, her breath hot and sweet on my face. I moaned and tried to put my arms around her, but she pulled back, smiling. I tried to push her down onto the floor, but she stepped away and took my wrist.

"I want you to come upstairs with me."

Suddenly, I was sweating again, and I was having trouble breathing.

"Oh. Okay."

She pulled me to the stairs and smiled reassuringly over her shoulder. All I could see was her sweet, round ass, swaying in front off me. I tried to touch it, and she smacked my hand away.

"Ow!"

She grinned.

"Not yet."

The bedroom door was open, but the lights were off.

"Go ahead," she said.

I stepped inside, and she turned on the lights and shut the door behind us, locking it behind her. I heard a drawer behind me open and shut. I almost turned around, but then I noticed her bed.

All the frilly girl stuff was gone, replaced with a single, black silk sheet tucked over the mattress. Lying on the bed were the leather handcuffs she’d caught me with, one pair attached to each of the thick steel posts at each corner of the bed.

She stepped behind me and touched my hips. She wrapped an arm around my waist and gently stroked my belly. I felt her breasts press into my back, and she let her chin rest on my shoulder.

I could just see her face out of the corner of my eye.

"Do you like my bed?" She asked. "Does it excite you?"

My mouth was too dry to speak, so I nodded.

"Let’s see."

She stopped rubbing my stomach and unbuttoned my jeans with a flick of her wrist. I jumped as my dick poked out of my underpants. It felt like it was going to explode.

"Okay, Linda, c’mon now..."

She hissed and squeezed me, pinning me to her. God, she was strong. Somewhere beyond the hormones flooding my system, I wondered why the hell she needed me to help her at school.

I probably should’ve given that some more thought, but she didn’t give me the time.

"Don’t move," she warned, and I felt something cold and sharp slide under my chin. "Unless you like blood."

"Holy shit, Linda! Hey, look! This was fun, and I’ve learned my lesson, but..."

I tried to pull away, but she jerked me back against her and the butcher knife in her hand bit into my throat.

"Devin, you were very bad. A bad, bad boy. I forgive you for snooping. Really. After I took you home, Bert helped me realize you did what any other horny teenage boy would’ve done. I know you’ve been attracted to me for a long time, and I’m actually kind of glad you found my little secret. But I want you to understand something. You need to be very quiet now. From now on, you’re not to speak unless I tell you to. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

The knife pressed harder, and a sharp pain shot into my neck. "What was that?"

"Yeah! Yeah! I get it! Linda, please...!"

She jerked me again.

"You have lost the privilege of calling me Linda. You may call me Ms. Bell. Do you understand?"

Holy shit. She’s lost it. A fucking bird’s talking to her? Calming her down? Forget Vampira, forget Bride of Frankenstein.

She was a fucking psycho.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Yeah. Okay...uh, Ms. Bell. I got it."

"Good. Now. I asked you a question."

"Wha...What was that?"

"Are you excited?"

Not any fucking more, I thought.

After she pulled the knife on me, my dick went from looking like a tent pole in my underwear to hiding somewhere around my armpits. Hell, as far as I knew, it jumped off and slithered out under her door, and was running like hell to Bermuda right now.

"Uh, I...was..."

"Let’s see," she said again.

Her hand slid back down and into my underpants. She ran her fingernails through my pubic hair and then gripped my balls. She kissed my neck and softly nibbled my earlobe as she played with me.

I shivered, and my dick decided to take a risk.

She laughed in my ear and used the flat of her knife to force my head back onto her shoulder.

"That’s a nice boy," she said. "Just like that. Now relax."

She stroked me until I was hard again, and she ran a fingernail along the bottom of my cock up to the tip, pushing it against my belly.

"Very nice," she whispered, and let it flop back down. It hung straight out, pulsing.

I felt dizzy.

"Now then. I was telling you that I forgave you?"

"Yes Ms. Bell," I croaked. I sounded like her stupid bird.

"Well. A couple days ago, I realized you took something when you were here, too. Didn’t you?"

I managed a nod.

The knife pricked me.

"What did you say?"

"Y-yes. I did."

She smiled and licked my ear. My dick twitched in her hand.

"You’ve been playing with something in your pocket this week, haven’t you?"

I shut my eyes.

Poke.

"Yes."

Poke.

"Ms. Bell," she said.

Poke.

"Yes, Ms. Bell."

The knife eased back, and her other hand reached into the pocket of my jeans. She pulled her panties out and dangled them in front of my face.

"That’s where they went! I wondered where they’d disappeared to. I just knew I put them in my dresser."

Poke.

"Did you look through my dresser, Devin?"

Poke.

"Yes Ms. Bell."

"Did you take anything else of mine?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, and nodded.

Poke.

"Yes Ms. Bell."

"What?"

Poke.

"I...I took a bra."

She nuzzled me, giving me little, soft kisses.

"Do you like what you took?"

"Y-yes Ms. Bell."

"Did you think about me this week? Wearing what you took from me?"

I was breathing hard again. She’d wrapped her panties around my penis, and was slowly jerking me off. My knees started to tremble.

"Yes." I whispered.

"Did you bring me back my bra, too?"

I shook my head.

Poke.

"No! No, Ms. Bell. It’s still at my house."

"Did you try my underwear on?" She asked.

"No. I didn’t..."

"Did you think about it? Did you wonder what my panties would feel like? Did you imagine slipping them on, the soft lace stroking you at school, hidden under your pants? Or my bra, hidden under your shirt, strapped around your sweet chest?"

I gulped and shook my head again.

Poke.

"N-no. I didn’t. Really. I just wanted something to remember you with..."

"You stole from me."

"But..."

She stopped rubbing my cock and tossed the panties on the bed.

"Give me your arm." She patted my left shoulder. "This one."

She grabbed my left wrist and yanked my arm behind my back. The cold pressure on my neck eased up, and she pushed me onto the bed.

With my pants halfway to my knees, I couldn’t stay up. I fell over, and she landed on top of me. I heard the rattle of a chain and then a leather strap tightened around my wrist.

She’d tied me with the cuff attached to the opposite - right - side of the bed. I had to use all my strength to flip over, but she’d already locked my wrist into the handcuff. When I flopped onto my back, I found her straddling my hips with the knife pointed right at my throat, and I realized she’d planned it this way.

"Don’t move." Her smile was gone.

The point of her knife poked my cheek, and her ass rubbed my cock as she pinned my other wrist to the bed with her knee. She grabbed the cuff lying next to my head, and quickly strapped my right wrist in.

Then she stroked my face with her blade, and grinned. She sat up, and I could see her dress had popped its buttons up to her waist. She grabbed my t-shirt and slit it open with her knife.

"Oh shit! Linda, please...!"

She jabbed my nipple with the knife and hissed at me.

"What did you say?"

I bit my lip and shut up. A little blood trickled down my ribs from the cut she’d made.

Then she leaned over and kissed me. I heard myself groan as her tongue flicked in and out of my mouth, and I for a second I forgot my fear.

Her kiss was soft and she ran her hand up my ribs as she pulled my tongue into her mouth and sucked on it. She kept the knife held at my neck and pinched my bloody nipple with her free hand, and then she ripped her dress open to her belly, down to the last couple buttons.

I felt my cock throb against her backside and bit my lip. Under her dress she was wearing a white push up bra. The cups were cut just under her tiny, pink nipples, forcing them to jut out.

"Do you like my breasts, Devin?" She asked.

"Y-yes, Ms. Bell."

She smiled.

I’d answered the question right, I guess, because she wrapped her hands around the back of my head, leaned over and pressed her chest onto my face. One of her nipples poked against my lips, and I sucked on it, nibbling it. Her tits were bigger than I’d thought. I realized that the little peeks I’d managed to catch over the years had just misled me about the size of her boobs.

Her hips jerked, grinding her ass into my crotch. And then she pulled away. She sat up and looked down at me, smiling. She stabbed he knife into the mattress next to my armpit and played with her breasts with one hand, then reached behind her ass and stroked my cock with the other.

Maybe she wasn’t going to kill me. I remembered the bondage get-up in her closet, and prayed this was just some funky role-playing game for her. Despite myself, I was starting to get into it.

Linda shut her eyes and played with me for a minute, until I was hard in her hand again. And then she bent over and kissed my neck, sliding her tongue down my chest. She pinched and bit my nipples, trailing her mouth over them, sucking them, and then she slid her body further down, biting and kissing my belly, licking my belly button, and then she grabbed my cock with both hands and took me into her mouth with a gulp.

My entire body tingled when I felt her lips press against my belly, and I jerked against her. She looked up at me, my dick buried in her throat, stretching out her mouth. She bobbed her head and I slid out with a slurp.

"Do you like that?"

"Oh, my God." I whispered. "Yes...uh...uhh...Ms. Bell...Uhhhh"

My feet twitched and my hands clenched as she sucked me, slowly and gently. She slid one arm under my ass and pillowed her head on my hip. Her soft, curly hair tickled me, and she cupped my balls with her free hand and lightly tickled my asshole with her fingertips. She worked me slowly at first, and then picked up speed, until my hips jerked and my toes curled.

"Oh shit! Oh...sh-shit! P-please...gnnng!"

She stopped sucking me right as I started to cum, but rolled off me onto the bed and kept stroking me. Her hand pumped away, and I couldn’t hold back. I shot my load, and she milked me, pointing my dick up towards my belly.

"Oh, fuck, Linda! Fuck, yeah!"

Sticky, pearly white cum pooled on my stomach, and dripped down my sides. My chest heaved as she smiled at me and squeezed the last drops of cum out of my cock. Then she ran her hand over the mess on my belly and licked her fingers clean.

"You made quite a mess, Devin."

I managed to nod. I could barely breathe.

She slid off the bed and pulled my pants down around my ankles. Then she pulled off my tennis shoes and my socks, pinned one of my legs to the bed and buckled me down, tightening the cuff around my leg just above my pants.

"You made a mess and you called me Linda. I told you to call me Ms. Bell, didn’t I?"

"Y-yeah. But..."

She strapped in my other leg, jerked the chains tight, and then pulled my pants all the way off.

"That means you have to be punished."

I tried to sit up. I still had some slack in the chains locking up my arms.

"No, no. You don’t get up until I let you."

Linda pushed me down and straddled my chest. She tightened up the chains for my arms, until I was spread-eagled out on her bed. Then she slid off again, my cum leaving a wet, shiny trail where she’d smeared it over my body.

"What a bad boy you are. Since you can’t seem to follow directions..."

She pulled the knife out of the bed and set it on her nightstand, then stepped over to her closet. She rolled open the door and grabbed something off the rack.

"I think we just need to make sure you don’t talk any more this weekend."

She grinned and held up a gag and a mask.

"Linda, please..."

She slapped me hard enough to make my eyes water. My lip swelled and I tasted blood.

"Shut up."

She pulled the black leather mask over my head, and then zipped it up the back. She unzipped the eye and mouth slits, and then shoved the red rubber ball of the gag against my lips.

"Oww!"

She wiggled it into my mouth, until I gurgled, and then she strapped it around my head, hooking it in place.

"There." She stepped back and admired her handiwork. "Perfect."

She smiled at me, watching me jerk around on her bed. The cuffs didn’t hurt, but I was strung so tight I could barely move, and the mask was stifling. I felt myself start to panic again, and screamed into my gag.

Completely muffled. Almost no sound reached my ears through the thick leather. And then I knew that I’d blown my chance for help.

Now no one could hear me.

"Oooh, poor boy. Uncomfortable?" Linda cooed. "Here. Let me help."

She pulled a thick pillow out of the closet and shoved it under the small of my back, and then another, until my hips were almost a foot off the bed.

"You wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you? I know you did. I could see it in your eyes when I found you leering into my closet, and all this week at school." She ran a hand lightly over my prone body.

Her touch was electric. My body jumped.

"There, there. You got to have your fun, now it’s my turn." She smiled again. "Just relax. You’re about to get your wish. Now, wait just a second."

She turned back to her closet, and came back out with a big bottle of anal lubricant.

"You’ll need this," she said, and crawled up onto the bed. She knelt between my legs and squirted a bunch of lube onto my crotch and over my balls. She slathered it on thick. Despite myself, my dick came back to life at the cool touch of the jelly, and she grinned.

"Well, look at that. You are a horny boy, aren’t you?" She shook more lube down to the tip of the bottle. "We’ll just have to fix that, won’t we?"

She used her fingertips to spread my ass cheeks open.

"What a cute little butt you’ve got, Devin."

She grinned and pressed the tip of the bottle into my anus.

My body jerked as she squeezed the rest of the lube into my rectum. She laughed and tossed the bottle onto the floor.

"Don’t you like that?"

My head flopped frantically from side to side, and she unbuttoned the last two buttons holding her dress closed. She let it slide off onto the floor and rested her hands on my thighs. She was wearing a flowery garter belt with her stockings and a pair of lacy panties over that.

"That’s too bad," she said, and leaned over with her ass up in the air.

She lapped the drying cum from my stomach, purring like a cat. I closed my eyes, feeling the heat from her body on mine. The tip of my dick rubbed her chest, her bra, and her belly as she licked and slurped.

I groaned with pleasure.

And then she sat up again, and pulled down her panties.

My eyes popped open and I started to thrash in my chains.

Ms. Bell laughed, and stroked the hard, thick, purple cock dangling where her pussy should’ve been. Her - his - cock was big - bigger than mine - and the balls hanging down inside her thighs were hairless.

"I hope I’m everything you wanted, Devin," she whispered and eased down onto me.

My legs were spread open, and my ass was way up in the air. I kicked and thrashed, but I could barely move. She just giggled and slipped her cock slowly into my oozing rectum.

It hurt.

It fucking hurt a lot .

Once she was in far enough that I couldn’t dislodge her, she grabbed my ass with both of her hands and pushed with her hips. She had all the leverage she needed, and suddenly I felt like I had to take a huge shit.

"There sweet boy. Doesn’t that feel nice?" She cooed. "You feel so sweet, I love your ass."

She let her weight rest on me and her tits dug into my chest. Her sticky hands slid up my body and grabbed a pair of leather handles that were sewn onto the sides of my mask, and she started pumping into me. She buried her face in the crook between my neck and my shoulder and purred, sucking and nuzzling me. Her hair poked into my eye and I had to turn my head away, giving her better access to my neck while she fucked me.

"That’s my sweet baby. My sweet, sweet baby." she whispered as she chewed on my neck. "You want me to cum in your ass, don’t you baby..."

Oh, fuck, it hurt.

She was pounding into me, smashing her belly against my balls. My dick was pressed flat against her stomach, and her garter belt rubbed it while she fucked me. Her belly was slick with my cum and the lube she’d smeared all over me, and the friction was turning the lube warm, then hot.

"You like it. I can feel it..."

My dick slid underneath her garter belt and stuck there, between the lacy material and her stomach. I groaned as I felt another orgasm building.

I didn’t want to cum. I didn’t. Not with some freak fucking me in the ass.

But I couldn’t help it.

My toes curled and my hands clenched into fists. A muffled wail from behind my mask caused her to stop pumping me for a second. She smiled as she pushed her upper body away from me, and shoved with her hips until her dick was buried and her balls slapped my ass.

"Cum for me," Linda purred. "Cum all over your sweet chest..."

She ran her fingers lightly up and down the thick vein running along the bottom of my cock, and a thick stream of cum spurted out of my dick like a fountain. Tears of shame burned in my eyes as my chest was sprayed with milky-white droplets.

Linda grinned and licked her fingers clean.

"That tastes so sweet..."

She gathered her legs up so she was kneeling underneath me, and pulled my ass higher. With my chained legs stretched over her thighs, she began fucking me with quick, hard strokes.

"Baby, oh baby..."

I didn’t feel her cum inside me. None of that ‘hot jizm exploding, filling me up’ crap. It was nothing like any of the shit you read about in the dirty magazines. One minute, she (he? it?) was pounding me, ripping into my asshole, and the next she just stiffened. After a series of small jerks, the pressure in my bowels lessened and she collapsed on top of me.

Then I felt warm fluid dripping down my ass cheeks, and she was snuggling me, gently kissing my nipples and wrapping herself around my body.

"Sweet boy, I knew you’d like it..." she whispered.

She rested her head on my chest, stroking the cum covering me with a sharp fingernail, swirling it around and making little designs.

"I can’t wait for tomorrow to introduce you to my friends," she yawned.

And then she fell asleep, right on top of me, with her cock slowly shrinking inside my ass. After a few minutes she started to snore softly, and her penis popped out.

It felt just like I’d taken a little turd.

I woke up to find dingy grey light pouring through her bedroom windows.

"Rise and shine sleepy-head," she said, as she dragged me, feet first, off the bed. "Time to get ready for the party."

My feet were cuffed with a new pair of leather bonds. A short, thin nylon cord dangled between them, I guess so I could walk on my own. My hands were hand-cuffed tightly in front of me, and I noticed the other cuffs were still attached to the bedframe.

Linda was standing in front of me, completely naked. She was holding the riding crop from her closet in one hand, and poked my face with it. I wasn’t wearing the mask anymore, but I was still gagged.

"Stand up Devin."

Soft, her cock swung down four or five inches. There was dried shit and blood caked on it, and smeared all over the tops of her legs.

"C’mon. We don’t have all day. Huffff!"

She pulled me to my feet and a sharp pain flooded my bowels. Suddenly I had to go to the bathroom very, very badly. She yanked on a heavy leash she’d attached to a studded leather collar around my neck, and my wobbly legs almost gave out.

"Stand up straight!" she demanded.

I did my best, and she led me into her bathroom. The rope around my ankles let me shuffle along in little half-steps.

"Sit!"

She pushed me down onto the toilet and held my penis while I relieved myself. Shit bubbled out of my ass and plopped into the toilet, splashing me.

I squeezed my eyes closed and prayed to wake up.

Linda laughed and played with her little whip, gently slapping the underside of my chin with it.

"All finished. That’s a good boy, pooping in the toilet."

She cleaned me, and then pulled my leash again.

"Now into the shower. We want you to make a good impression tonight."

I tried to step over the ledge of the bathtub, and almost tipped over. The whip whacked me in the butt, and I stumbled in.

"Raise your arms."

A metal pipe ran across the top of her shower, from one wall to the other, with a sturdy hook hanging from the middle. I shook my head, and she flicked her wrist.

"GAAHH!"

Her crop caught me across my nipple. Linda wasn’t smiling anymore.

"You smell like a disgusting pig. Raise your arms. Now!" She flicked her wrist again.

WHACK!

Pain exploded through me as the tip of her crop kissed my crotch. My vision swam, and she screamed again.

"NOW!"

WHACK!

My other nipple burned, and I raised my arms, shuddering. She reached up and attached my cuffs to the hook with a small, light clamp.

"There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?" she asked pleasantly.

My whole body hurt. I didn’t want to piss her off again, so I shook my head.

Linda stepped into the shower behind me, reached around my waist, and started the water running. A blast of freezing cold water hit me in the face, sending chills down my entire body. She pushed my head into the freezing spray and raked her fingers through my hair. I came out sputtering, and then she was lathering me up with shampoo.

"There. Doesn’t that smell good?"

She dunked me again and rinsed me. The water was warming up now, and I felt her arm wrap around my waist, and she bent over. When she straightened, she held a bar of pink soap under my nose.

"This is my favorite. I think you’ll like it too." The soap smelled like her, like she smelled every day when we’d stayed late in her classroom.

I groaned.

Linda slowly, gently soaped me up. Starting with my arms, she worked her way down past my groin, washing me as she went, and then moving back up to my crotch.

"Mmm. Let’s have a little fun, shall we?"

I let my head hang as she washed my cock. Despite myself, it slowly hardened until it was standing straight up, throbbing in her fist.

"Such a nice, hard cock," she whispered.

And then something hard and rubbery was poking me.

Linda pulled me against her and played with my chest as she jacked me off, gently rubbing her growing dick up and down my wet, soapy ass crack.

God. Just like last night, I thought. This can’t be happening. Please. This has to be a bad dream.

And she stopped.

"There. Nice and hard again, sweet boy. But I think we should save that for later this evening."

She reached around me and popped the shower head off the stand. I waited, hanging there, staring at the flowery white tile until she finished bathing herself.

"All done!"

Linda turned off the water and opened the shower door. She hopped out of the tub and I watched her in the mirror as she toweled off. Then she rubbed me dry with a thick pink towel and stepped back, grinning.

"I’ll be right back. Don’t move a muscle." She hung the wet towels back on the rack and left the room.

I hung there for a second with my eyes closed and my head back, wondering how the fuck I was going to get out of this. I could hear Linda rummaging around in her bedroom. I opened my eyes when she turned on the radio, and found myself staring up at my wrists.

The pipe I was attached to was bent slightly in the middle. I lifted my legs, curling them up to my stomach. My ass felt like something was ripping inside, but I hung there, twisting.

Nothing.

I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth and pulled myself up as far as I could with my arms, and then let myself drop. The leather straps cut into my wrists, but the pipe groaned and bent.

I dropped about a half an inch.

In the bedroom, Linda was humming along to some old sixties song. Glancing at the bathroom door, I raised my body again, pulling my legs into a ball, and dropped. With a squeal, the pipe bent another inch, but held.

"What do you think you’re doing?!"

Linda was standing at the doorway, dressed in her nurses’ outfit, glaring at me. She lashed out with her riding crop.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"Mmphaagh!"

Three burning welts popped up on my ass cheeks, just below the small of my back. Linda placed a fist on her hips and waggled her finger at me, like she was scolding a small child.

"Bad boy! Didn’t I tell you not to move?"

Linda unhooked me and dragged me out of the tub, then into the bedroom and threw me face-first down onto the bed.

"Such a bad boy. And after I’ve been so nice to you."

She leashed me to the head-board of the bed and pulled something green from her closet. Then she straddled my back, unlocked my handcuffs and grabbed me by the hair, jerking my head back.

"Do you know what happens to bad boys? Do you?"

My eyes popped open and I shook my head.

"Mmmgh!

"They get punished."

Linda let go of my hair and shook out a green smock. She forced my hands through a pair of arm holes, then tied the light, paper-like material down my back.

"There."

She locked my handcuffs together again and untied my leash.

"Stand up," she said. "Let’s see how you look in your costume."

I slowly pushed myself off the bed, and turned around. Linda was grinning at me, lifting my chin with her crop.

"My little patient. You look cute enough to eat." She sighed. "Come with me."

She gave my leash a quick jerk, and I stumbled after her. I heard Bert squawk through the closed office door, and then we were down the stairs and into her living room. She led me right to the stockade that she’d set up in the middle of the room.

"You’ve been such a bad boy; this is where you’re going to have to spend the evening."

I tried to back away, shaking my head. She just yanked my forward until she could grab my hair again, and pushed my neck down on the thick slab of wood.

"Bad boy! Don’t make me spank you!’

Linda slipped behind me and grabbed my wrists. After unlocking my handcuffs again, she forced my arms down into the shallow depressions cut into the beam, and slammed the crossbar down over my neck and padlocked me in.

"There!"

I tried to jerk my head back. No luck. I couldn’t move.

Linda removed the leash and slipped the black mask back over my head, buckling it on. She made sure the eye-slits were open, so I could see, but she zipped the mouth closed.

"You be a good boy now. I’ve got a lot to get ready!"

Then left me alone. With her parrot tucked away, the house stayed strangely quiet.

 

The doorbell rang about an hour later.

Linda skipped past me and I heard the door open.

"Girlfriend! Look at you! Oooohhh!"

I was turned with my ass facing the door so I couldn’t see who had just shown up, but there was a lot of excited shouting for a couple minutes. The voice that kept calling Linda ‘Girlfriend’ eventually acknowledged me.

"And who’s this sweet thing?"

A warm hand patted my ass and trailed up my back, playing with the ties on my ‘costume’.

"Oh. Just a party favor, for later."

"Perky!"

The hand tickled my balls, and I turned my head as far as I could. A pair of long, muscular brown legs stepped into view. I looked up to see what appeared to be a black man dressed as a roaring-twenties style flapper, wearing a tight, sequined white dress with a skirt that barely covered his ass, and a pair of black mesh stockings with white stiletto heels.

Behind me, someone with a lisp asked, "Dessert?" Then laughed gaily.

"Here, let me take your coats. Desiree, I haven’t had time to bring out the bowls. Would you mind?"

The person standing in front of me was playing with my mask. "’Course, Girl! Whatever you need."

"They’re right over there."

Desiree walked away, swishing his butt. He returned a second later and set two bowls by my feet. One was full of condoms, the other loaded with little bottles of anal lubricant. The bowls I’d seen in Linda’s closet.

Somebody was gently rubbing my ass.

"I love Halloween. Linda always comes up with the best ideas," the voice lisped. "Did you see the balls on this one?"

And the doorbell rang again.

"Party-time!" Desiree cried, and he ran to open the door.

 

I don’t know how many people showed up for Linda’s little shin-dig, but the apartment was packed and noisy, and the drinks were flowing.

There was a lot of leather, lots of chains and bondage stuff. Everybody was dancing, or eating, or wandering from one little group to another. One chubby guy whose voice I recognized as the Lisper was dressed like a cartoon tiger, with little white shirt cuffs and a white collar and a bow-tie sewn onto his costume. He had a pair of orange ears strapped to the top of his head, and they kept falling off while he danced.

I seemed to be the focal point of conversation, but for the first hour or so, everybody pretty much left me alone and partied. Eventually the little groups got even smaller, and couples started claiming space on the couch and chairs. A guy dressed like a biker flopped onto a recliner in front of me and pulled out a huge cock, bloated and purple, with a shiny silver cock ring wrapped around his balls. Another guy dressed like a cowboy knelt down between his knees, and the biker grinned and closed his eyes.

I turned my head when the cowboy hat started bobbing up and down.

The orgy had begun. And Lispy Tiger Boy was glancing my way.

"Hey, Linda!" He shouted across the room, waving at me. "Can I partake?"

I couldn’t see or hear her, but I guess Linda said yes because the guy walked over to me. He bent over and smiled at me, then dipped into the bowls. He straightened and slid his hand into the band of his orange tights and slipped them down, over his hips.

And I was suddenly staring right at a pair of hairy balls, and thick, soft cock, poking right at my face.

No. No, no, no, no...

"Not his mouth!" I heard Linda shout from across the room. "And wrap that rascal!"

"’Kay!"

Lispy ripped open a condom package and rolled the rubber on. The he squirted some lube onto his hand and started to jack off. When he was hard he waddled around behind me.

Oh God, no...

His sticky hands untied and pulled open my costume. He rubbed his slimy cock into my ass, greasing me up. I tried to wiggle away, but he grabbed me around the waist with both of his arms, pinning me in place.

"Hold still," he whispered, and pushed his dick into me with a grunt.

My entire body spasmed, and my head smacked back into the hard wood.

"MMMMgggg!"

"Ahhhooowww. You’re a tight boy, aren’t you?"

Lispy wormed his way into my ass, with slow, hard thrusts. His fingers played with my cock while he slowly fucked me, then reached completely under me and lightly grabbed my balls.

"Oh, yeah..."

He squeezed my balls and screwed me. When he started to get really excited he stopped playing with me, dug his fingers into my waist and bent over my back. He pounded into me as hard as he could, slamming my shoulders into the cross-bars locking me into the stockade.

"YESSS!!!"

Lispy pulled out suddenly, and a second later warm fluid spurted over my ass.

Then the cowboy-biker duo stepped up.

"All finished, Pard'ner?"

"Enjoy yourselves, boys!"

I watched the cowboy slip underneath me. His head brushed my chest and his hat fell off, and then he sucked my cock into his mouth. The biker took the time to grab a condom, and then his huge dick was filling my ass.

It felt like I was being ripped apart.

"Fuck him, Baby," the cowboy slurped. He reached around and pulled my ass cheeks open. "Yee-Haw! Pound that little ass."

And so it went.

Unfortunately, the night was just beginning.

 

Hours later, I hung limply from my prison. My ass burned like it was on fire.

All the party-goers had long since departed, except for Desiree.

Right now, he was sitting on the chair in front of me with his legs crossed, his hands folded demurely on his knee, swinging his shoe from his toes as he twirled his foot in a slow circle.

Watching me.

"What are you going to do with your little trophy?" He asked Linda, who was walking around, picking up.

Linda shrugged.

"I’m not sure yet. He said he wanted to come to the party, but I haven’t asked him if he wants to stay tonight."

Desiree smiled and smoothed out his skirt, and gracefully shifted his legs, teasing me.

He yawned theatrically and stretched, throwing back his head and pushing his arms straight into the air. His breasts were enormous, and he had a tiny little waist, which made them look even larger. The tight dress he wore barely restrained his tits; in fact, it emphasized them. He caught me looking and grinned, cupping his breasts with his hands and giving them a little bounce.

"I think he likes my titties." He toyed with a thin spaghetti strap that kept falling down over his shoulder. He smiled and licked his full lips. "Would you like to see them, baby?"

Linda stood next to me, and unzipped my mask.

"Now that everyone’s gone, why don’t we take this off?"

She pulled the mask off and let it fall to the floor.

"Oh! What a beautiful boy!" grinned Desiree.

He slid off the chair and crawled over the floor to me, until I could feel his breath on my face. He reached out and smoothed back my hair, then gently kissed my forehead.

"So pretty," he murmured, and slipped the straps of his dress over his arms.

Desiree cupped his breasts with his arms, pushing them into my face. The sequins covering his dress scraped my face for a second, and then the cool, smooth feel of a silk slip, and then the warm flesh of his bare skin. He played with my hair and I heard a click, and then a huge weight eased from my neck. It took me a moment to realize that Linda had removed the bar holding me down. And then my legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor with a thump.

"Poor baby. Looks like you’ve had a rough night." Desiree stood up and kicked off his shoes. "Why don’t we take you upstairs and clean you up."

He pulled up his dress and stepped around the stockade, then bent over picked me up like I was a child. He threw me backwards over his shoulder and marched upstairs, right into the bathroom, and stood me up in the shower. He pulled off the hospital gown and tossed it in a clothes-hamper sitting by the sink.

Linda turned on the water, and I was too weak to fight as they bathed me. Hot, rust brown water swirled down the drain as they rinsed my legs and buttocks. My ass stung when the water ran over it. After they finished, Desiree toweled me dry and then they handcuffed my wrists together again, and let me use the toilet.

"Poor baby," he turned to Linda. "Does he know?"

Know what? I wondered.

Linda shook her head.

"I haven’t told him. I’m sure he thinks that I’m like you."

What the hell were they talking about?

Desiree flushed the toilet for me and led me back into the bedroom. The bedding was clean; someone had changed the sheets to a soft pink satin, instead of the black silk. He pushed me onto the bed and they locked me up again. The sheets were cold underneath me, and I shivered.

They both sat on opposite sides of the bed and smiled at me.

"So. Is that what you think?" Desiree asked.

I looked at each of them. Bewildered.

"That she’s like me?"

Desiree stood and slipped out of his dress until it pooled around his ankles. The silk slip followed right after. Underneath, he was just wearing a black garter belt to hold up his stockings. His tits were full and firm, bigger than anything I’d seen outside of a porno movie, with dark brown nipples. I could see the light discoloration around the side of his breast, where the scarring from his implants had healed. His penis was already hard, and stuck out a good foot from his crotch.

"A woman trapped in a man’s body?"

I couldn’t take my eyes off his penis. He eased back onto the bed, and started to gently stroke my stomach with his long, painted fingernails. His dick flopped over his thigh and rested half on the bed, and his tits pressed into my side.

He looked at Linda.

"Why don’t you show him?"

Linda smiled at me and stood up. She was still dressed in her nurses’ costume. She unclipped the little white cap and tossed it on the dresser, then reached behind her back and unzipped the starched white uniform. She pulled it down over her round hips, and I felt my cock suddenly twitch.

Desiree noticed too, and his light touch eased down my belly until his fingertips lightly ran up and down the length of my dick. I groaned around my gag when Linda stood up straight. Now wearing just her undies, she looked like something right out of a wet dream.

"Bra first, honey," Desiree said.

Linda nodded, and unhooked her white, push-up bra. It unsnapped in the front, and she slid the straps down her slim arms and let it fall. She stood smiling at me with her back arched and her chest thrust forward. She licked her fingers and pinched her little, pink nipples until they were stiff.

"Look at them, Sweetie," Desiree prompted. "Those are the real deal, Sugar."

I glanced at him, and he grinned. Then he looked back at Linda.

"Now the panties."

Linda bent and rolled her white g-string down her legs and stepped out of it, leaving her wearing just white stockings and a matching garter belt. She stood again, demurely sucking a finger and playing with her cock.

I watched her get hard.

"Now, that’s real too. Isn’t it, Linda?"

Linda smiled and nodded.

"Come closer." Desiree stopped caressing my dick, and motioned Linda to step closer to my face. "There. Good. Now turn around and bend over."

I seemed to be having a hard time breathing. Linda twirled on the ball of her foot, bent over and spread her ass cheeks. She wiggled her butt, and I got a nice view of her asshole, her balls and her dick and...her...

Pussy?

Linda’s hand moved under her crotch and slipped between her legs. She rubbed her pussy lips and slipped her middle finger inside. It came out slick, and she turned around and licked it clean.

"See? A little bit of everything. Just for us."

She smiled at me and Desiree patted my crotch. Linda crawled onto the bed and straddled me. She closed her eyes and licked her lips, raising her bottom slightly.

"A little higher," Desiree said, and he gripped the base of my cock.

I felt myself slide into Linda. She sat down with a slow grind of her hips, and her fingernails scraped my chest.

God. She was the tightest fit I’ve ever experienced. She fit me like a warm silk glove. She cuddled me, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissed me gently.

"Fuck me," she whispered, and began moving against me, stroking my hair.

"Thattaboy." Desiree stood up and opened the closet. He clicked on the light and bent over, and when he shut the doors he was smearing lube on his cock. He eased between my spread legs, behind Linda. I felt his dick push into my balls, and for a second, I thought he was going to try to fuck my ass.

I braced myself for the pain, imagining that huge dick ripping into my butt.

But it didn’t happen.

Instead, Linda moaned and squeezed me tighter, and I felt something big and hard pressing down on my cock. I opened my eyes.

Desiree was slowly easing himself into Linda’s asshole. Her face scrunched up with the effort of taking us both, and then he was lying on top of us. Linda was angled to my left, Desiree to my right, both of them kissing and caressing me. Linda smiled with an effort.

"L-let’s...t-take this off, too."

She unsnapped my gag, and Desiree pulled the red ball out of my mouth. My jaws cramped, and Linda massaged my face until they relaxed and I could close my mouth. For the first time in more than a day, I could speak.

"Please...stop..." I managed. But Desiree cupped my chin in his hand and tilted my face to his. His lips gently touched mine and Linda nuzzled her soft lips along my ear, teasing me with her tongue.

"Cum in me," she whispered, and her hands played with my body, sending little chills down my spine.

Desiree flicked his tongue in my mouth and I gasped. "It’s okay, baby," he said. "Just lay back and enjoy."

He smiled reassuringly, and I closed my eyes.

"Oh, God," I heard myself say, and I let them do whatever they wanted.

 

For the rest of the year, Linda brought me home with her on Friday nights, and occasionally Desiree would join us. When school ended and I graduated, Linda moved back to France, with her sister.

Desiree and I stayed in contact, a bit.

She asked me to stop calling her ‘him’, and eventually I began to think of her as a woman. She would bring me over to apartment and dress me up in whatever outfit tickled her fancy, and then we’d fuck. She seemed to enjoy my...exuberance.

One weekend, Linda flew in to spend a few days, and brought her sister with her.

By that time, I thought I knew what kinky was.

I had no idea.

On the days I didn’t spend with them, I tried to hang out with my buddies. I’d forgotten all about Cara and Keith, until one weekend when all of us - the guys, that is - decided to go to a strip bar.

"Yo! Dev! Wha’s up!"

Manning the door at ‘The Crop’ was Keith. He’d put on some weight over the last few months. His gut hung out over his baggy jeans, and he still drooled. He let us in with a discount and a good word with the waitress.

Nice of him.

A few watery sodas and a couple lap-dances later, we were feeling pretty relaxed. Then the D.J. announced some stripper named ‘Mercedes’, and cranked up the bump and grind music.

Three guesses who jumped on stage.

Cara saw me sitting in the crowd, and almost blew her act. She recovered nicely, though, and did a pretty good set. She knew how to work the pole, boy.

I shoved a dollar bill in her g-string, and decided to call it a night. I patted her butt and she smiled at me with sad, glazed eyes. I said goodbye to my friends. Only Mark and Dave managed to pry their eyes away from my stoned ex-girlfriend and her baby-doll outfit long enough to say goodnight.

I went home and called Desiree. It was late, but I was depressed and horny. She picked up after the second ring. I don’t think she ever slept.

"What’s wrong baby?" She asked. "Sounds like you need some sugar. Why don’t you come on over."

We hung up and I walked out to my car - Linda’s old VW. As I unlocked the door, I saw the lights go off a couple houses over. Ingrid. I hadn’t thought about her for months now.

For a second, I thought I caught a glimpse of her peeking out the living room window at me.

 

The next day I woke up late in the afternoon. It was broiling hot in my room.

I sat up and stretched, feeling groggy, and opened my window for some air, right as Ingrid power-walked by my house.

She must’ve heard the window, because she stopped and looked around. I unlatched the screen and pushed it up, then stuck my head out of the window.

"Hey. It’s just me," I said.

She smiled and waved, then her face turned pink and her hand jumped to her mouth. She grinned at me, then turned on her heel and almost ran home.

"What?" I wondered.

When I was standing back in my room, I realized it might’ve been a good idea to put some clothes on before I opened the window. Then I remembered Ingrid’s little grin before she walked away, and my dick twitched.

"Heh." I laughed to myself. "You liked it."

I thought for a minute, and then opened my closet. Buried in the back under a ton of junk was the box John had given me before he left, almost a year ago. I pulled it out and dug around in it until I found what I was looking for. I tossed the little package in the air and caught it, then went to take a shower.

 

An hour later, feeling refreshed and frisky, I went to visit Ingrid, carrying two tall glasses of iced tea with me.

I found her sitting cross-legged in the shade provided by our mutual neighbor’s house, weeding her flower beds. Even in the shade, the heat was smothering. She was still wearing her walking outfit; the same tank top, short-short combo she always wore, and she was covered in a glistening sheen of sweat.

"Hey."

Ingrid jumped.

"Oh!" She grinned at me and tucked a bit of damp hair behind her ear. "Devin! You startled me!"

"Sorry," I said, and handed her the glass in my right hand. "I saw you from my back yard and thought you might like something cold to drink."

"Oh. Well, thank you." She accepted the glass and took a small sip. She smacked her lips, and took a big gulp. "Mmm. That’s very good."

"Cheers." I sipped from my own glass. "I’m glad you like it. My mom brews a pitcher for me every morning before she goes to work. By the time I wake up it’s pretty tasty."

She swirled the ice in her glass and took another sip.

"This is so good. Devin, this was so thoughtful of you! Oh! Why don’t we take our drinks to the backyard and sit down?"

"Okay."

She held out her hand and I awkwardly helped her up.

"I put out some chairs on the patio," she said, wiping grass off her butt. "I...I didn’t expect anyone to visit, but..." she trailed off, frowning.

"But here I am."

That made her smile again.

"Yes. Here you are. I suppose I was hoping...that someone might come by."

A small rod-iron table was set up on the concrete patio. A faded umbrella was stuck through the glass top and three white chairs with worn, faded pillows tossed on the seats stood in the shade.

"Hey, let me get that."

I set my glass on the table and pulled out a chair for her. Ingrid settled in, and I sat down opposite her. She used both hands to tuck her hair back again and took another sip of her drink. She was already half finished.

Ingrid noticed that I was looking at her glass and smiled.

"Thank you."

"Sure. It’s that good, huh? I asked. "I guess I shoulda brought the whole pitcher."

She giggled, and then blinked, like she’d just surprised herself by laughing.

"So...how is your summer? She asked. Seemed like she didn’t know quite what to make of my showing up.

"Good. Pretty good." I cleared my throat. "Hey, I, uh, I wanted to apologize for this afternoon. I mean..."

"Do...do you usually open windows without wearing any clothes?"

Her hand shot up to her mouth. I didn’t know exactly what I’d laced her drink with. It didn’t look like the stuff John had used before, but it seemed to be working.

I decided to push the conversation.

"Well, no. Just when a sexy neighbor walks by. My exhibitionist nature gets the better of me."

Her eyebrows flew up and her jaw dropped. Then she blushed again.

And then she grinned.

"You...I...I’m not sexy."

Well, well. I thought that comment was going to be way too forward.

"Sure you are."

"No." She stared at her glass for a second. "Really?"

"Yup." Wow. Okay, I thought. Here goes nothing. "I like watching you walk. You look great in that outfit." I threw my hands up and leaned back in my chair. "Amazing."

"I...I...well," she cleared her throat. "I’ve seen you out on your deck sometimes. Sunbathing? You...remind me of my husband. Your body, I mean. I...I mean, you look nice and tan..."

Ingrid blinked at me, blushing. She glanced away from me and took a long drink. When she finished, what was left of the ice cubes clinked around in the bottom of her glass. She rubbed the back of her neck, then hugged herself and crossed her legs.

"Really?" I asked.

Ingrid nodded but didn’t say anything.

I didn’t take my eyes off her. She was breathing rapidly, taking small, shallow gulps of air. She glanced at my crotch, then quickly looked away. I didn’t know how to play this, so I decided to change the subject.

"Anyway." I leaned forward and drew a smiley face with my finger in the condensation on the table. "Have you heard from John?"

It took her a second to answer. She was staring at my hands, and shook herself back to attention.

"I-I’m sorry. What?"

"Have you talked to John lately?"

She shook her head.

"No. Johnny...hasn’t called, or..."

She was swaying a little: forward, then back. She blinked again and rubbed her forehead.

"Uh...are you okay?" I asked.

"I don’t...I don’t know. I..." She swallowed with an effort. "I feel dizzy."

"Maybe the heat’s getting to you. Do you want me to help you inside?"

She nodded.

"Yes, please. I..."

Ingrid tried to stand, but her legs buckled. I managed to catch her before she fell, and propped her up with my arm around her waist.

"Whoo. That’s not good. Is your backdoor unlocked?

"Y-yes."

"Okay. Let’s take this kinda slow."

She wrapped her arm around my shoulder. I put my free hand on her stomach and guided her towards the door. Getting her through the screen door was kind of awkward, but I managed to lug her to the living room. I pushed the coffee table out of the way with my foot and helped her stretch out on the couch.

"I’m sorry. I feel so odd, like...like..."

Ingrid rubbed her temples. I sat on the floor next to her and held her hand. It felt hot and clammy. Little beads of moisture ran down her face and neck, and a small pool of sweat collected in the groove between her breasts. I was glad she wasn’t looking at me, because I was having a hard time taking my eyes off her chest.

Her nipples were hard as rocks.

"Can I get you a cold towel or something?"

She squirmed a little. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke.

"I’m so hot..."

"I’m going to take off your shoes, okay?"

She nodded.

I untied her shoe laces and pulled her sneakers off and tossed them to the side. Her socks followed, and I went into the kitchen and found a dish towel hanging above the sink. I turned on the tap and let the cold water run until it was as cool as it would get, then soaked the towel and rinsed it out. I carried it back to the living room and laid it on her forehead.

"Thank you."

Ingrid reached out and stroked my face, smiling at me.

I was already really horny - I’d had a hard-on since seeing her that afternoon, and taking a cold shower did nothing to help calm it down. When she touched me, my dick perked up and shot out of the top of me shorts.

She couldn’t stop squirming. Her legs twitched and slid up and down on the cushions, rubbing together. She closed her eyes and let her hand drop from my face to her chest, where it rested on her right breast.

I picked up and re-folded the towel, and I smoothed back her damp hair. Her eyes fluttered, but she didn’t say anything. I decided to take a chance. I leaned over and kissed her as gently as I could.

Her body immediately responded. Her eyes popped open and she grunted, jerking her head into the pillow. I pulled back to find her staring at me with a shocked expression on her face.

"Devin! What...? Why did you do that?"

I smiled reassuringly.

"I told you. I think you’re beautiful, and I...I just wanted to kiss you."

Her eyes fluttered again. She was having a hard time staying focused.

"Devin, that...that’s not right. Please don’t..."

I kissed her again.

Her hand touched my chest, but she didn’t try to push me away. Maybe she didn’t have the energy. But then her lips parted, tentatively, and she let out a whoosh of air.

Suddenly both her arms were wrapped around my neck, and she was writhing against me. I grinned and pushed my tongue into her mouth. She moaned, deep in her throat, and began sucking my tongue, nibbling at it like it was a ripe strawberry. I kissed her lips, her eyes, and the tip of her chin. She bent her head back and I nuzzled her neck, letting my tongue drift down her sweaty chest.

"N-no..."

Ingrid was clutching me, her breasts rising into my face as I bit at her nipples through the satin tank top. The towel fell from her head onto the floor, and my left hand slid over her flat belly and down her shorts. I cupped her crotch, working my fingers under her shorts and the elastic band of her panties until I could gently stroke her pussy.

"Oh!"

This time she did push me away, planting both her hands on my shoulders and shoving me until her arms locked.

"What’s wrong? Don’t you like that?" I asked.

Her eyes were wide, and she clamped her legs together around my hand, which was still tangled in her shorts.

"Please. Devin, stop. This isn’t right."

I didn’t answer. I learned a few things in my time with Linda and Desiree. Instead, I slipped a finger into her pussy and grinned down at her.

"Oh...G-G-God..."

Her eyes lost focus and her whole body started trembling. Her cunt was soaking wet, and my finger slid right in. Her hands curled into fists, and she pulled herself against me. Her legs had my wrist pinned, but I was able to slowly slip my finger in and out, and instead of trying to shove me away again, her hips began to move, and she kissed me hard, shoving her tongue into my mouth.

"Mmm-mmm! Mmm!"

Her legs relaxed and she spread them open, letting one leg fall off the edge of the couch, giving me full access to her pussy. I slipped two more fingers in and her pussy clenched, smashing them into each other. I used my thumb to find her clit and started to gently circle her little nib, rubbing it until she groaned.

A warm gush of her pussy juice soaked my hand and her panties.

"Please stop..." she begged. "Please..."

I looked at her crotch. Her shorts were wet up to her belly.

"Do you really want me to stop?" I asked, and flicked her clit, causing another little flood. "Or can I take these wet things off for you?"

Ingrid squeezed her eyes shut and didn’t answer. Then she dropped back on the couch and averted her eyes, still quiet.

"Well?" I gave her shorts a little tug.

She bit her lip and nodded, and I slipped them down her legs. She kicked out of them, letting them fall to the floor, and then I pulled down her panties. I tossed those onto the coffee table. I petted her soft, light blonde pubic hair and her breath hissed between her teeth.

"You’re so pretty," I said, stroking her. "I...I’ve thought about this for a long time."

She wouldn’t look at me, but her legs were spread open. Inviting me.

I stood and unzipped my shorts. I kicked off my sandals, stepped out of my shorts and pulled off my underpants, then my t-shirt. She kept her head turned as I knelt between her legs.

I was so excited; my dick was actually bouncing up and down, twitching.

"Ingrid."

She shook her head.

"Ingrid. Look at me."

I had to cup her chin in my hand and turn her head. She squeezed her eyes tighter and balled her hands into fists. Mentally, I shrugged.

"You...you drugged me. You put something in my drink. I can tell...just like Johnny used to do..."

That stopped me. I was lying on top of her with her right leg over my shoulder. Her left leg was still dangling off the couch, and I was guiding my dick to her pussy.

"What?"

She never opened her eyes.

"Just like my Johnny," she whispered. "Such a bad boy."

That line triggered a bad memory. Then she grabbed my ass and pulled me into her.

"Ingrid!" I tried to roll off, but she wrapped both her arms around me and lifted her leg, tangling it between mine. "Hey!"

Her hips were grinding against me now. Her pussy was warm and wet, and it gripped my cock, pulsing. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Make me happy, Johnny... Make mommy happy..." she moaned, and clamped her mouth over mine.

It might not’ve been the strangest sex I’ve had. But Ingrid didn’t stop calling me Johnny the entire time.

Frankly, I didn’t care.

She came minutes later, bucking against me, her nails scratching my back.

I rolled us off the couch onto the floor. I lay on my back with her on top of me. I made sure I was still buried inside her, then I pulled off her tank top. Underneath she was wearing a light cotton bra. I didn’t bother unhooking it. I just pulled the straps over her shoulders and yanked the cups under her tits.

"Oh, yeah," I grinned, and pulled her close and kissed her nipples.

Her hair was plastered to her sweaty face, and she swayed back and forth while I sucked her tits. But she kept up a slow grind, her hands clutching my shoulders until I came.

Then she just collapsed on me, panting. I slowly relaxed, and after a while I felt moisture on my chest. I looked down to find her weeping. She was staring at me. Something made me take her hand in mine, and I kissed it.

"You think I’m beautiful?" She asked.

I could feel myself getting hard again. Her pussy was still twitching, and moisture trickled over my hips. I rolled her over onto her back and kissed her. She made a purring sound and tangled her hands in my hair. When I came up for air my dick was throbbing again, and I grinned.

"I think you’re hot."

She blinked again. Then she grinned.

"Did you like having your way with me?"

I answered by hooking both her legs around my neck. I fucked her that way until I came, and instead of filling her cunt with spunk, I pulled out and shot my load over her belly.

"I like fucking you," I said. "A lot."

Her eyes were closed again. But this time she was smiling.

Later, we were lying on her bed, snuggling. She had her head on my belly, and was gently playing with my cock and my balls.

"I was going to be moving back home, to Germany, in the fall." She looked up at me. "I suppose you would like me to stay now."

"What?"

"Well...I thought...now that we are lovers...you would want me to stay here, with you."

Huh?

"Who said...what are you talking about?"

She crawled on top of me and pressed her pussy down on my cock, smashing it flat against my belly. She licked her lips and grinned.

"If we are not lovers, then you raped me."

Oh shit.

"When Johnny went to jail, I cleaned his room and found his hiding place. But I did not find any drugs. I knew he must have had some that night we had dinner together. I wondered what he did with them." She was slowly rubbing her pussy along my cock as she spoke. Her cunt was getting really wet. "If I went to the police now, I’m sure they would find Johnny’s drugs somewhere in your home."

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, and felt my dick responding to her, despite this turn of events.

"The same drugs that a simple test would show to be in my body now, and traces of which are sure to be in the glass you gave me to drink. What do you think the police might say if they found these things, and I told them that you had sex with me?"

"I...I thought you liked it..."

Ingrid grinned and eased me back inside her soft, velvety pussy.

"I did."

"What...what do you want...?"

She didn’t answer. She just took her time with me. Teasing me. She leaned over and kissed me, and I stared up at the ceiling while she fucked me.

Jesus. What the hell did I get myself into this time?

He slammed the paper onto the table, and jabbed his finger at a picture of a smartly-dressed, plain-Jane, middle-aged woman, arguing with a group protesting outside the steps of the state capital.

The two of us were relaxing at the tables, while on stage, Angela - Melvin’s Mistress/Business Partner/Hermaphrodite Lover/Adopted child - enthusiastically whipped away at Julie, one of my own sex slaves.

Julie was bent over at the waist, locked into a stockade at the edge of the stage and naked except for a featureless, black leather mask covering her face. Angela was wearing her usual uniform of choice, a dark green velvet dress that was practically painted over her tight, curvy figure, with her favorite stiletto-heeled boots laced halfway up her thighs.

As I watched, Angela reared back with the riding crop in her hand and let Julie’s ass have it. Julie’s body jerked forward and the crowd around the stage cheered.

Angela looked like she was having fun. I don’t know about Julie.

Melvin was fuming.

"Whoever voted for that cunt should be taken down to the river and shot."

The woman in the power suit looked familiar. I looked closer at the article. The headline read: ‘Local Sex Industry Warned!’ And in smaller print: ‘State Rep. Susan Manning Takes the High Road on the Sex Industry’.

"Huh." I said.

Melvin looked at me.

"Whaddaya mean, ‘huh’?

"I know her. She and her family have shopped at my store for years." I pulled the paper closer so I could read the rest of the story. "In fact, she hurt her back on a ski trip a few weeks ago, and the last time I saw her at the store, I carried her bags out and helped her get into her car."

"You’re kidding me."

"No, seriously." I thought about it a second. "It was right before I left for California."

"You should’a clubbed the bitch and dumped her in the trash."

The article praised Mrs. Manning for her new bill that was working its way through the state legislature, something some conservative lawmakers were labeling as ‘a call for a new day of decency for our fine state’. She was working to get funding and zoning restrictions for any type of strip club, massage parlor or adult specialty store, pretty much handcuffing (no pun intended) the sex industry here in town.

I could see why Melvin was pissed.

Between the two of them, he and Angela each owned several adult stores (among other things), all of which probably sent the local soccer moms into convulsions whenever they passed by in their minivans and SUVs.

"She’s not that bad, Mel."

"Not bad my ass." He paused and re-lit the stub of his cigar. "In fact, if I got my hands on her, I’d fuck her ass until she bled, then throw her into the Maze for the boys to have fun with." He took a long puff, and blew the smoke out the side of his mouth. "Turn her into the little slut she really is under all that repressed, prude-lawyer shit."

I laughed again.

"You think I’m kidding? That bitch is the reason we’re sitting here in this dump tonight, instead of at the convention center, like we should be."

Melvin and Angela were part-sponsors of a yearly bondage/fetish merchandise trade show. I vaguely remembered they ran into some problems this year, and couldn’t get the permits they needed to set up at the new convention center. Instead, they had to rent out a series of warehouse spaces in the deep industrial district from sympathetic local businesses.

I nodded at the hundreds of leather and stud clad people roaming the floor.

"Not a bad turnout, though. You’ve got to admit, having the show here has a kind of sleazy appeal."

He grunted.

"Yeah, the hardcore freaks’ll find us wherever we end up. But it’s those weekend creepies, the ones that take their kids to private school in their new Beamers, then play dress-up at night when their kids are asleep; they’re the one’s that get antsy when they’ve gotta drive into the ghetto." He chomped thoughtfully on his stogie, puffing away. "Not that the freaks’ money isn’t any good, there’s just a lot more that never makes it to the table if we’re hiding way out here, y’know?"

"So it’s all about the money."

He shrugged.

"Well, yeah. Losing cash always pisses me off, for sure. But this bitch..." He stubbed his cigar out on her picture. "She’s the worst type of cunt-fuck politician. She ran for office as a fucking Democrat for Crissakes, claiming to be for this liberal issue or against that one, whatever, and y’know: ‘vote for me ‘cause I care about this and that and blah, blah, blah’..." Melvin stretched as he spoke, popping his thick neck. "And then once she got elected she turned right around and forgot about the folks who believed her stinking pile of bullshit and voted her in, and now she’s using her office to promote her own fucking pseudo-Christian conservative agenda."

Melvin paused for a breath.

"You voted for her, didn’t you?"

He glared at me, and laughed.

"Fuck you." He sighed.

"I didn’t know you were politically involved."

"Matt, anything that potentially affects my income, my livelihood, I want to know about." He leaned closer. "Folks think I’m a sick, perverted, dumb old bastard." He poked me in the shoulder and grinned. "Well, I’m a sick bastard, that’s true. But I have never, never been stupid when it comes to business or politics."

"So you admit to being old, then?"

He leaned back.

"I prefer to think that I’m aging gracefully."

He looked at the paper, almost wistfully.

"That bitch has done everything she can to fuck things up for a lot of people in this business, a lot of folks we know. And worse." He looked at me again. "You hear about the ‘Homeless’ bill?"

That had been big news last summer, while I was away. After it passed, the police rounded up most of the local street people and homeless families and relocated them, ‘for their welfare and for the continued safety and beautification of our neighborhoods and business districts’.

I nodded.

"She’s a fucking fascist cunt, and if I had the chance, I’d find as many of those bums she had moved out to the sticks and let them hate fuck her until she had to use a fucking wheelchair for the rest of her goddamn life."

I waved my hand at Angela, who was finishing with her demonstration. Julie hung limply in the stockade now, her back and buttocks glowing with angry, red welts.

"Well, why not? You punish people for kicks all the time."

He shook his head. "Nope. It wouldn’t be enough to just fuck with her. I’d want to teach the bitch a lesson, sure. But..." He drifted off, shrugging. "She’s already screwed things up. This stuff she started has a life of its own now. It’s gonna keep on building, no matter what happens to her."

"Melvin, you know your problem?"

"What’s that, besides the bad case of jock itch I got from reading this shit?"

"You’re too short-sighted." I grinned at him. "I’ve got an idea."

I brainstormed a little for him, and as I jabbered away, Melvin started to smile.

"Goddamn, Matt!" He clapped me on the shoulder when I finished. "I knew there was a reason I liked you." He reached for another cigar, shaking his head. "And people say I’m a sick fuck. That’s so twisted, it’s beautiful."

It took about a week and a half before I saw Susan again.

I was just leaving my store, getting ready to go out for a late lunch, when she pulled up in her new Lexus. I stepped off the sidewalk in front of her car and waited to help her as she got out. She was moving a little gingerly, like her back was still bothering her.

As I told Melvin, I’ve known, or rather, waited on, Susan and her family since I bought the chain of little markets I own, maybe ten years ago now.

Susan and her husband Mike were both lawyers, both in their late 40’s, and wealthy. They had two kids: a tall, willowy teenage girl named Rachel, who was probably a junior or senior in high school, and a son who was a couple years younger. Both of the kids took after their dad, physically; they were tall, slim, and athletic with dark hair and complexions. And keeping with the family tradition of prestige, they both went to private school and drove their own, brand-spankin’ new BMWs.

Mike’s family owned a lot of prime downtown real estate, shipping companies, restaurants and other businesses, along with a fair amount of farmland they were now busy developing in the outlying areas of town. Mike quit his job as a corporate shark a few years ago, shortly after his father passed away and he inherited pretty much everything.

His family was big-time players in local politics too. Money can buy a lot.

The whole family reeked of the snobby attitude that went along with having that kind of money. Susan had been an especially cold fish when I’d first met her, but over the years, she’d gradually warmed up to me, and now she’ll actually stop and converse with me.

One day I realized that I hadn’t seen Susan with Mike for quite a while, and asked her how he was. Susan told me that she and her husband had separated, but quietly, for the sake of their careers, and their kids were living with him in another house across town, partly so they could be closer to school, and because Susan was gone because of work so often.

The news didn’t come as much of a shock to me; I rarely saw the two of them together, even before the separation, and when I did they barely spoke two words to each other. Not a great marriage, but whatever works. Susan had managed to parlay her husbands name into a thriving political career, and if he didn’t seem to mind, well, more power to her.

I held my hand out for her as she opened the car door, and she took it with a smile.

She swung her legs out, and I tried to not stare too openly.

I’ve never seen Susan wear any make-up, and the only times I’ve ever seen her without a suit and skirt, she was usually out for her daily run or she was heading up to the mountain to go skiing in the winter or hiking during the summer. She always wore her straight, dishwater blonde hair cut short around her shoulders, and other than a pair of thin silver hoops in her ears and her wedding ring, she rarely wore any jewelry.

When I first met her, ‘mousy’ was the term that came to mind.

But as plainly as she presented herself, she was in great shape, even well into her 40’s. You had to look twice to notice, but she was short and shapely, with great legs and a nice, round ass and hips that tapered into a tiny, tight waist capped with firm, full breasts.

But I digress.

Always the voyeur, I admired her legs, running my gaze up her muscular calves as I helped her ease out of the car. She moved hips first, and I smiled as her legs spread open, surprising me with a nice crotch shot.

I should possibly note here that she was wearing a pair of black stockings under her light grey skirt. Very nice.

She stood up and smoothed her skirt back down and straightened her suit jacket.

"Thanks." Susan smiled up at me. Even in heels, the top of her head barely reached my chin.

"Don’t mention it." I smiled back at her. "You’re here early today."

She shut the door and locked her car. She shrugged.

"We’re out of session," she explained, "and I’ve got a long weekend, so I was going to stock up on girl-flicks, pizza and ice cream, then lock myself in the house and work on getting fat."

She patted her stomach. No way was she going to be getting fat anytime soon, and I took the opportunity to flirt a little.

"Fat. Right."

"You think I’m kidding? I’ve gained so much weight since I hurt my back, it’s not funny."

"Huh," I said, twirling my finger in a circle. "Let’s see."

She gave me a strange look.

"Now you’re kidding."

"Nope," I grinned. "Let’s check you out."

A slow grin spread across her face, and she raised her arms and did a quick little turn for me.

"Well? Everything you hoped for?" she asked.

Hell yes.

"I was gonna go for a bite to eat...how about keeping me company?"

Susan’s mouth popped open.

"You’re serious."

I twirled my car keys.

"Time’s a-waistin’, and there’s a little bistro downtown calling my name."

This was totally out of left field for her, and I wanted to see how game she might be.

It just took her a second to make up her mind.

"Yeah. Okay, sure." She looked at my keys. "Do you want to drive, or should I?"

Gotcha, I thought.

I drove.

The downtown metro area had once been a thriving seaport back in the 1800’s. Most of the current skyscrapers and businesses had been built over the old buildings, or the old architecture had just been reclaimed and refitted for modern use. Rumor has it that a number of secret entryways connected many, if not all of the older buildings to a huge, elaborate network of tunnels running underground that stretched from the wharves and docks back for miles out into the hills and towards the current industrial areas.

Supposedly the tunnels were used for smuggling every sort of contraband under the sun: alcohol, drugs, weapons, and women - you name it - even as recently as the early 1940’s and ‘50’s. Folks new in town, venturing out into the bars and other, less savory establishments for a night of gambling, drink and fun might find themselves drugged and shanghaied, waking up on a ship somewhere at sea. Some of the surviving bars and hotels now boasted of ghosts and hauntings, spirits left over from the wild frontier days.

The tunnels and the entries to them, if really there were any, had been filled in and boarded up by court order back in the late 1950’s. Melvin, while doing some construction in one of his porn shops, had stumbled onto the entries for dozens of the tunnels.

Melvin explored his find a little and found that, for the most part, the tunnels were still in decent shape. So he excavated and turned the tunnels running under his property into a playground for the more adventurous swingers in town.

He calls his deviant little theme park ‘The Maze’.

And, as in the old days, if you decide to venture inside, into the tunnels, looking for whatever twisted sexual thrill you might find, you do it at your own risk. Melvin swears some people, entering of their own free will, haven’t come back out, and he won’t go in looking for them.

Or so he says.

It’s a nice little bit of publicity that spread around the underground sex scene like wildfire. Now there’s rarely a night when the sex crowd doesn’t turn out in force, waiting to try their luck down in the Maze.

Here’s the way The Maze works: The tunnels open for business at midnight, and stay open until the early hours of the morning. The customer picks one of about a dozen doors, each leading to a certain type of fantasy scenario. Once you enter into the tunnel system, the heavy steel door shuts behind you and locks automatically, forcing you even deeper into the maze to try to find your way out.

Hopefully.

The tunnels don’t just run in a straight line to an exit door. They twist and turn, doubling back in on themselves or branching out and leading to dead ends, different rooms, and the like. A couple of them wander on for miles. As you hunt for the exits, you have the opportunity to participate in whatever type of illicit scenario you stumble into.

Each tunnel has ‘em, and most have several different variations of a theme. And with some scenarios, well, with some you don’t get a choice in the matter.

Melvin has created some really perversely twisted surprises for anyone who decides to try their luck, and every type of fantasy is catered to. Just to keep things fresh, he changes the scenarios once a month.

Plus, every corner of the excavated tunnels are monitored with video cameras, and, legal implications be damned, everybody in the Maze gets filmed and the video is recorded and feeds right into the store proper, playing on big screens for the enjoyment of the customers while they shop or wait to get into the tunnels themselves.

Again, the idea, the supposed risk, is the draw for most of the thrill seekers. And it’s been a cash cow for Melvin.

One of my new slaves, Nancy, followed me to the store a few months ago. Not the best decision on her part, maybe. She ended up getting attacked by a horny batch of customers, who chased her into the Maze. They caught her and raped her in a tunnel, until she bit one of them when he tried to force her to suck his cock.

Nancy managed to escape from the rapists, but Melvin and Angela found her just a few minutes later. She spent the next week chained, gagged, and filmed while being raped repeatedly by Angela, Mel and about twenty of their drugged up flunkies.

All in payment for a suit of clothes that Nancy thought I’d like to see her wear.

When they gave Nancy back to me, Angela was kind enough to send her along with a copy of the movie they made, as well as the clothes they put her through hell to get. I spent another week breaking Nancy in for myself, and once in a while, even now, I force her to watch the video while I fuck her in the ass.

You might ask how this all came about, and what any of this has to do with my lunch with Susan.

I’ll try to fill you in as we go along.

We had a small wait at the restaurant. I chose this particular restaurant for a couple different reasons: It was really trendy, and I knew the chef.

Always good to know the staff when you’re trying to impress the snobby date.

And my friend Jeff, the chef, had told me about finding one of the old tunnel entries buried deep in a corner of the basement here. The building the restaurant was in dated back to the roaring heyday of the frontier.

I wanted my own access to the tunnels that ran under the downtown area, and unknowingly, Jeff had given me that access. So I wanted to check out the restaurant a little.

And Susan’s husband owned the property.

The hostess flashed us a perfect, toothy smile when we walked in. I mentioned that Jeff had recommended that I stop by for a snack. Dropping his name was enough for her to whisk us past the early dinner crowd gathered in the bar, and she led us into the restaurant to a booth with a great view of the busy street outside.

A pair of attractive women seated at a table whispered and turned their heads as we passed. They looked familiar, but I couldn’t place them, and I forgot about them as I helped Susan slide into the booth.

The hostess introduced us to our waitress, a tattooed and pierced young blonde, as I slipped into the other side of the booth, facing Susan, my back to the women at the other table. The waitress rattled off the evening specials, and after she took our drink order I snuck a look around.

Jeff and his partner had gutted the space when they moved in, and refurbished it themselves. The space was large and wide open, but the way the booths were organized, each table had - almost - complete privacy.

The waitress returned with a carafe of ice water, a red wine for Susan and an ice tea for me. She poured each of us a glass of water, took our orders and left us alone.

Susan sipped her wine.

"Seems nice," she said. "Have you eaten here before?"

I shook my head.

"No, but I know one of the owners. As far as the food goes, anything he cooks or tells me to try, I’ll eat." I spread my napkin out on my knee. "How about you?"

"No. I eat out a lot because of work, but I’ve never been here. I guess I’m a guinea pig, then?"

I grinned and squeezed some lemon into my tea.

She was staring at something behind me.

"You’ve caused quite a commotion back there." She nodded her head back the way we came.

"What do you mean?"

"Those women we passed got pretty worked up after they saw you. They haven’t stopped staring at me since we sat down." She lowered her eyes and whispered, "Here comes one now."

I thought she was teasing me, until a familiar voice said, "Hi Matt."

I was married for a few years, and for a few years I had in-laws and a niece and nephew, who I’d managed to completely lose track of.

I looked up to find my old sister-in-law, Laura, smiling at me.

"Hi." I said.

After my divorce, I lost all contact with Laura and her husband, Ken. In fact, the last time I saw Laura, she’d fallen asleep on a couch after making a drunken pass at me during her housewarming party.

Ken was upwardly-mobile and Laura was obsessed with appearances, so seeing her here shouldn’t have surprised me at all. It didn’t really. This was the perfect spot for her to hang out. In fact, now that I thought about it, I recognized the other two women at the table with her from the night of that party.

"Katie said it was you!"

Laura held out her arms to me, and I stood up and gave her a hug.

It felt fantastic.

I remembered her smell from before, like the faint smell of flowers in a spring breeze, and I remembered the feel of her body against mine from few minutes we spent on the couch together at the party.

Laura and I had flirted on and off since we’d met, when she was engaged to Ken and I’d first started dating my ex-wife Jennifer. It seemed pretty innocent stuff, then, and over time Laura had slowly molded herself from a frumpy, chubby young woman into a hip, rather sexy yuppie.

We’d both gone through some changes over the years.

Reluctantly, I pushed away and had a look at her. She looked older than I remembered. She’d always been full-figured, with a tiny waist, and she’d put on a little weight. The extra weight looked good on her, rounding out her hips and filling out her breasts. She’d changed her hairstyle, too, from the short ponytail she used to wear. Now her ash-blonde hair was clipped short, close to her head in the back and around the sides, but she’d left her bangs long. She wore a beret shaped like a small rose in her hair that pulled her bangs so they hung down around her cheeks. She was wearing a pair of tan Capri pants and tennis shoes, with a black sweater over a white t-shirt.

I wondered how I could have forgotten about her.

She was looking me up and down, too.

"Wow. Matt, you look great." She had a curious look on her face. "You look...bigger."

I cleared my throat.

"Personal trainer."

"Really?"

I grinned. "No. Really, just good, clean living."

Her mouth made a little ‘O’ as she took that in. I managed to disengage myself and introduced my date.

"Laura this is Susan. Susan, this is Laura."

The two women glared at each other over gritted teeth. I sat back down and wondered if there was going to be a cat fight.

Laura turned back to me and left Susan grimacing into her drink.

"You look wonderful too," I said. "It’s been a long time."

We made small talk for few minutes, the way old acquaintances do, while Susan watched us quietly.

"You should call sometime, Matt," she said. "I’m sure Ken would like to get together for dinner, or..."

I grinned. I liked Ken, but hanging out with him now that I was on shitty terms with his sister didn’t really appeal to me.

"I dunno, Laura. I..."

Then she got excited and snapped her fingers.

"Hey! How would you like to go to the art festival with me, like we used to talk about?"

That was something else I’d forgotten about.

Laura and Ken had gone through a phase where they decided to collect ‘art’, and were enamored of this particular local painter. During a short period of flirtation, Laura had asked me to go with her to this weekend long festival.

I was never sure of Laura’s motives when she invited me, but mine sure weren’t pure when I agreed to go. And Ken and Jennifer didn’t seem to be aware of any issues regarding the two of us shacked up in a hotel alone for a weekend.

Unfortunately, it never happened.

"There’s one coming up in a few weeks, and I was going to go by myself, ‘cause Ken’s going to be out of town." She rummaged around in her purse and found a pen.

"Here, let me give you my cell number."

She scribbled a phone number on a napkin and handed it to me.

I glanced at it. "I still have your home phone somewhere too. I think."

She looked a little uncomfortable.

"We moved again, out to Westlake, and Ken wanted to get rid of our land lines when we bought the new house."

I caught Susan’s expression out of the corner of my eye. Ken was a big-time computer geek, and his firm was under contract with a bunch of the large, better-known companies in town. I knew he was earning some serious money, but they must be doing better than I thought to afford a place in Westlake.

Even Susan, whose husbands’ net-worth was easily in the umpteen-millions, raised her eyebrows.

"So this is the best way to get a hold of you?" I asked.

"Right."

Laura looked over at her friends, who were arguing over their bill. She leaned over, and her scent wafted past me again as she kissed me on the cheek.

"I should probably go." She slung her bag over her shoulder. "Call me if you want to come along?"

I nodded.

She spared a glance at Susan as she left the table.

"Nice to meet you. Hope you have a nice dinner."

Susan gave her a little, tight smile as Laura walked off.

"She seems...nice. How, um, do you know her?"

I grinned. A little jealousy right off the bat. That was a good sign.

We spent most of the meal talking about my minute-long marriage, and Susan slowly unwound after a few glasses of wine. Eventually the conversation wound its way back to her marriage and her kids. I asked her why she was spending the weekend alone, without her kids. She told me that they already made plans with their dad to go up to the mountain and spend the weekend camping.

Midway through the main course, she excused herself to use the ladies room.

I pulled out my cell phone and watched her butt swish as she walked back to the restrooms.

Melvin answered after the second ring. I told him where I was, and who I was with, and he chuckled in disbelief.

"Don’t fuck with me Matt."

I grinned at Susan’s ass as she slipped into the restroom.

"Never, Mel. She just went to the ladies room, so I need to make this quick. Remember what we talked about at the convention?"

"Of course I do."

"This is the perfect opportunity to start."

"You’re shitting me." I heard him puff on one of his ever-present cigars. "You’re serious, huh."

"Like a heart attack. But we don’t have a lot of time, Mel. You’re in or you’re out, no qualms."

He was quiet for a heartbeat, and then, "What do we need to do?"

I outlined my plan and gave him some quick instructions. When I finished, he chuckled again, and it was an unpleasant sound.

"You want Angela in on this?"

"No, not now." I’d considered it, but this wasn’t quite her thing.

"We’re gonna need some muscle."

"Yeah, I know. My man Roscoe is back in town. We’ll use him."

I could picture Melvin rolling his eyes. "Do I know him?"

"No, but he likes hurting people. You’ll like him."

"All right. I’ll get everything moving. You need anything else?"

"Nope. But we’re going to try out your new stuff this weekend, too."

He whistled. In addition to his other interests, Melvin also dabbled in some designer drugs. I didn’t need to use them to get what I wanted from Susan tonight, but Melvin had been itching for a situation to try them out.

"Damn. I love you like a son, Matt. You know that, dont’cha? After this, we should get together with Angela and celebrate."

I grimaced. It was another story, but Angela had been trying to bed me since Melvin introduced us. And as twisted as my sexual appetites had become, the last thing I wanted was Angela’s dick in my ass.

Or mine in hers, for that matter.

"Mel, you call me if you need me. I’m going to keep Susan busy tonight, but I’ll be by in the morning."

I told him how to get in touch with Roscoe, and we hung up.

Susan was still in the restroom, so I had still had a little time. I fished a little paper packet from my pocket, tore it open, poured its powdery contents into Susan’s water and stirred it in.

I wiped my spoon clean as Susan walked back to the table. She wobbled a bit as she sat back down.

"You okay?" I asked.

She smiled sheepishly. "I’ve been on pain medication since I hurt my back, and I haven’t really had anything to drink for a while." She reached for her water, took a sip. "I’m just a little woozy."

"Maybe we should get a little fresh air," I suggested, "or would you like some dessert to go with that water?"

Susan took another sip and smiled. "I never got my ice cream."

I signaled for our waitress.

 

By the time we finished dessert, she was flushed and breathing rapidly. And after I assured her there was twenty-four hour security at the mall, she agreed with me that it might be a better idea if I drove her home tonight, and she could pick up her car at the store tomorrow.

I drove her home and Susan leaned on me as I walked her to her door.

She had some trouble finding her keys, and I helped her open her front door when she couldn’t get the key in the lock.

I wished her a good-night with a kiss on the cheek, and she threw her arms around my neck, pressing herself against me.

Looked like Mel’s little concoction was working just fine.

I enjoyed the kiss, sucking on her little wet tongue as it poked into my mouth. She panted as she kissed me, with quick, hot bursts, and I could taste the wine on her breath. She played with my hair, and I nuzzled her neck and kissed her ear, then pushed her away.

Susan grabbed for me, but I held her by her shoulders, looked into her half-shut eyes and said, "Susan, are you sure you want to do this?"

She tried to focus, blinking rapidly, then grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into the house.

We made it into her living room, and she tripped and fell on the floor. I shut and locked the door, and turned to find her down on her knees and elbows, her ass up in the air and her head rolling, panting like a dog. I placed my foot on her ass, and her face mashed into her carpet.

I grinned as she moaned, her butt wriggling in the air. She was conscious, but just barely.

There’s something about a woman’s ass poking up at me that just blows me away, and I’d wanted to fuck this one for a long time now.

Melvin once told me that he never understood why men just didn’t pay for a night with a prostitute instead of dating women. His reasoning was that the price of an evening with a pro was usually about the same as an evening out with some regular bitch, and with a hooker, you always knew you’d be getting some at the end of the date.

I figured that tonight I’d spent enough on dinner to justify fucking Susan.

So I pulled off my shirt, kicked off my shoes and dropped my pants, just about that fast. I dropped to my knees behind Susan and unzipped her skirt, slipping it down over her hips until it bunched around her knees, and ran my hand up the inside of her thigh, cupping her crotch.

She moaned, and her butt jerked up a little higher, pushing her pussy against my hand. A dark, wet patch stained her stockings, and I ripped them open, splitting them up her ass, then grabbed her black panties and ripped them apart too.

I pulled her bare ass closer, and leaned over and shoved my tongue into her pussy, making Susan groan again and shove her ass against my face.

I really hate going down on women, on general principle, but I had fun eating Susan out. By the time I pulled my dick out of my underwear, it was screaming at me to fuck her and she was soaking wet.

I straddled her, my legs outside hers, and pushed the tip of my dick into her pussy. It clamped down on me, and I bent over her back and grabbed her tits through her blouse.

Then I shoved my dick into her as hard as I could.

Susan’s head snapped up and she let out a wail as about six or seven inches, maybe half my cock, pounded into her cunt. I squeezed her tits tighter and held on as her entire body bucked and lurched underneath me.

"OhhhhGoddd...!" Susan cried out and she wiggled and squirmed, but the drug had taken full effect and she didn’t have the strength to fight me off. Her arms couldn’t hold both of our weight, and she collapsed, face first, onto the floor, with my dick keeping her ass propped up in the air.

I pushed harder, slowly, until my belly slapped against her butt, and started ramming my hips against her ass as hard and fast as I could, shoving my cock into her until I came, blowing a load of cum into her so hard it oozed out of her pussy and down her legs.

I rolled her over, my dick still stiff and throbbing, wedged deep in her twat, and I ripped her blouse open down to her navel.

She was wearing a black satin bra that matched her panties.

"Ohhh..."

Her eyes rolled in her head and she drooled down her cheek as I leaned over and pulled the cups of her bra under her breasts. Her tits were amazingly firm; big and juicy, with hard, little brown nipples that stood at attention as I played with them.

"My, my, Susan, what nice titties you have," I chuckled as I ran my hands over her tight belly.

She was in fantastic shape. I could see the smooth muscles in her stomach twitch as I started to slowly fuck her,

Well, well, well, I thought. Look at Mrs. Snooty-Ass, Mrs. Holier-Than-Thou, hot for dick.

She clutched at me with her hands, and I let her pull me down on top of her. I felt the warm flesh of her breasts press flat against my chest and the silk of her stockings as her legs wrapped around my back.

"Fuck me, fuck... me..." she panted.

I pressed my lips on her open mouth. This was going to be a lovely evening.

Susan woke up with a screaming headache.

"Oh, God."

She groaned, threw off the covers and leaned over the side of her bed with her head nestled in her hands, willing the room to stop spinning.

That’s what you get for mixing pain-killer and wine, she thought.

Susan managed to stand up, and shuffled carefully into the bathroom, rubbing her swollen, tender eyes. Susan turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face, then grabbed a towel and looked up at herself in the mirror.

"Oh, God," she said again, and her mouth opened in horror, the towel frozen halfway to her face.

She was naked, with bruises that looked like fingers criss-crossing her breasts, her wrists and her ass. Her neck and shoulders were a mass of angry red hickies and bite marks, and more bite marks covered her nipples.

Susan desperately tried to remember what happened last night, but after dinner, only little bits and pieces came back to her.

She remembered feeling a little light headed because of the wine, and going to the restroom to try and clear her head. The walk seemed to help, but then during dessert she started feeling giddy again. And she remembered Matt suggesting that he drive her home. She’d agreed after he had to help her out of the restaurant and back to his car. And then Matt walking her to her porch, and kissing her cheek...

"Oh my God!" Her hand flew up to her mouth. "I threw myself at him!"

More bits came flooding back as her head slowly stopped swimming.

Susan remembered feeling incredibly horny during their drive home, and wondering if Matt knew. Remembered wondering what he’d do if she just leaned over and gave him head, like she used to do for Mike, back when they started dating. She remembered losing control and pulling him into her house, and, and...

"Oh my God!"

Just fragments now. Matt pulling at her clothes, lying on her, his hands moving over her, his mouth on her body. She remembered her first orgasm, the first orgasm she’d had with a man in years, Remembered Matt’s penis ripping into her...

"GgggnnnnOOOOhhh!"

Suddenly her legs quivered and the room spun around her, and Susan almost fell over as a wave of pain and lust ripped through her. She grabbed the counter until the room stopped spinning.

"I can’t believe you let him fuck you," she told herself in the mirror.

Susan shook her head at her own stupidity.

For a second, she wondered if he’d drugged her, and then shook her head again. She’d been with him the entire meal, until she’d gone into the bathroom. She was already pretty drunk by that point, and she’d managed to do that all on her own.

She looked at her body again in the mirror. "Looks like he enjoyed himself," she muttered.

Susan patted her face dry with the towel and dropped it on the counter, then shuffled bow-legged back into the bedroom. She figured Matt left after he was finished, but noticed that the other side of the bed looked slept in. She looked around and found a trail of her clothes leading back into the living room, and followed them down the hall, picking them up as she went, wondering how she made it to bed.

She knew she’d been fucked hard - her pussy ached and her legs were sore - but even with the pain in her crotch, she still felt a little horny. She wondered what Matt looked like this morning. She found herself hoping that he was walking around as tenderly as she was, and grinned.

In the living room, she found her shoes and an open bottle of wine on ice with a card.

"Matt?" Susan looked around, wondering if he was still here.

When he didn’t answer, she dropped her armload of wrinkled clothes on the couch, opened the card, and read to herself:

‘Sorry I couldn’t stay, but you looked like you were going to sleep in and there were a few things I needed to take care of this afternoon. I thought you might be a little hungry when you woke up, so I left some ice cream in the fridge, and there’s pizza to go with the wine. No movies - sorry, the Soaps’ll have to do. Enjoy lunch, and I’ll stop by tonight around 8-ish. Maybe we can go see something later. Matt’

A wonderfully warm little tingle washed through her as she read the letter, settling in her crotch.

Susan realized she was holding her breath and let it out with a whoosh. She tapped the card thoughtfully, and a little smile snuck across her face.

Damn him, she thought, unable to wipe the silly grin off her face. The last thing I need right now is to have an affair.

Lately, her career was glowing. In another four years, with her record and recent accomplishments - plus the help of Mike’s family name - she might have a realistic shot at Washington. She sighed, exasperated with herself. She and Mike had been so careful when they finally decided to split up and live alone - appearances were everything in their businesses. That was one of the few things they’d ever agreed on, and now Susan felt absolutely stupid to have been seen in public with Matt.

Inwardly, she kicked herself again. Who knew if anyone got any pictures of them together, or what kind of gossip might be circulating.

She couldn’t get involved with a scandal. Not now, not with the decency bill still bouncing around, waiting for the voters. News of this would kill the bill and make her a laughing stock in her firm, in politics, even her social circles.

What the hell got into her, kissing him out on her porch, for all the neighbors to see? And drunk, too? God, just how dumb could she be?

Memory of the hickies and bruises covering her body popped back into her mind, and Susan groaned. How was she going to hide those? It was almost summertime; she couldn’t just pull a turtleneck over them.

She dropped the card and poured herself a glass of wine. She sipped at it while she pondered damage control.

How bad was this really?

Susan knew several of her female colleagues in both law and politics who kept lovers. But they were typically college students who were happy getting laid once or twice a week in return for a decent apartment, not grown men with a life of their own.

Susan wondered if Matt would settle for just a one-night stand.

Not that Matt wasn’t attractive. She’d always thought he was kind of cute, and he’d always been a flirt, even when she was still married. But if anyone found out that she was sleeping with some regular guy with no money, no aspirations...!

Well, that wouldn’t do.

She curled up naked on the couch with her glass and tried to think things out. The wine was making her warm, and she felt an odd tingling spreading through her. It made her smile, and she rubbed her belly, enjoying the sensation.

A brief memory, just a flash from last night flitted through her mind, of Matt, lying on top of her, his penis buried in her, gently stroking her stomach.

Susan almost spilled her wine as a wave of horniness flooded through her. She closed her eyes and remembered what she could of him last night, touching her.

She smiled at herself, and her thinking made a complete about-face.

"You got laid," she said out loud. "You got laid, you seduced him and brought him home and you got laid."

Susan shook her head, that crazy little smile stealing back over her face. She suddenly felt almost proud of herself for getting a little out of control.

Matt was the first man she’d slept with since her separation. Even when she and Mike were living together the last few years, they never shared the same bed. And now she was always so damned busy with either work or dealing with her kids, she didn’t have a social life outside of the business dinners or political functions.

Susan sipped her wine, pondering that thought.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to let him come over tonight, if she were careful. They could stay in for the evening and watch movies, or she could cook him dinner, and…

She grinned again, blushing, as a wild thought hit her out of nowhere. Susan felt her pussy get wet.

"Maybe I’ll seduce him while we’re eating." She set her glass on the table, licked her lips and closed her eyes, fantasizing. "I’ll sit on his lap and feed him dessert with my fingers, and..."

Susan touched herself and her eyes fluttered closed as a warm, wet flood gushed over her hand. She squirted all over her legs and the couch as she climaxed.

"Oh sh-shit..."

She’d never done that before. Not...ejaculating, like a man.

Susan kept rubbing her clit until her hips jerked and her orgasm subsided. She jumped up as her cum dripped down the inside of her legs and soaked the couch. She shook the moisture from her hand.

Oh God, I’m horny, she thought. And look at me. Here I am, trying to get smut banned from the state, and suddenly I’m masturbating over some guy who had sex with me while I was drunk enough to pass out.

Her stomach growled as she wiped at the wet beads running down her thighs.

She stepped towards the kitchen to hunt down that pizza, and thought again of Matt naked, here in her house with her.

Yeah, she thought. Okay.

Maybe she could him around for a little while longer.

If she was careful.

Susan ate lunch, thinking how sweet Matt had been to bring her food, trying to ignore the hot tingling in her pussy.

Afterwards, she was still horny, enough to need a cold shower to try to cool off. It seemed to help. A little.

After her shower Susan slipped on a silk bathrobe and tried to watch television, snacking on the ice cream and sipping at the wine, but she kept fantasizing about what she wanted to do to Matt later, and she couldn’t seem to pay any attention.

She turned off the television, sighing.

He owed her for last night, she figured.

Susan took a bite of the ice cream and wondered if he’d lick her pussy if she put some down there for him to enjoy.

"Here’s your dessert, Matt," Susan said out loud with a giggle, and she shivered with pleasure as she used her finger to smear a glob of ice cream over her pussy. She spread her legs and rubbed it in. The ice cream was cold and sticky. She dabbed another finger-full onto her crotch, and her nipples popped up.

"Oh. Would you like some there, too?" She asked the empty room. Susan ran her finger around the inside of the container and plopped a dollop of ice cream over each nipple.

"Well, come and get it," she giggled to herself, and spread her legs.

I’m going to need another shower after this, she thought, and closed her eyes.

By the time eight o’clock rolled around, Susan had finished off half the pizza, most of the ice cream and all the wine.

Three more cold showers later, and she was so horny she could barely sit still.

Around four o’clock, Susan had a sexual epiphany, and she hunted through boxes in her closet until she found an old vibrator someone had given her as a joke back in college. She managed to find some batteries that still worked in a junk drawer, and she spent the next several hours naked and spread-eagled on her bed, masturbating.

Where the hell is he? She thought, desperately jabbing the dildo into her soaking wet pussy. The dildo was slippery in her hand and the bedding underneath her was saturated with her pussy juice.

It seemed like the more she came, the more she needed to fuck.

This isn’t helping at all, she thought.

Somehow she knew she needed to fuck Matt.

When Susan finally heard the doorbell ring, she was in the middle of a rip-roaring orgasm. She was coming so hard and moaning so loudly that she missed the bell on the first ring, and she had to literally sit on the hand holding the dildo, breathlessly forcing herself to listen for the bell to ring again.

Nothing.

Susan almost wept out of sheer frustration. Her crotch was burning like it was on fire, and the only thing she wanted was...

Wait. There it was again.

Susan bolted out of bed and ran to her front door. She pulled it open and stood there, naked and panting. Matt stood just outside, his finger halfway back to the ringer with a look of complete surprise.

"Hi," he grinned at her, and Susan launched herself out the door, jumping on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, kissing him wildly. She felt her pussy rub against his shirt and she groaned, her need for him welling back up like a hunger.

Fuck the neighbors, she thought. She was so horny now she would’ve fucked him right here on the steps, in plain view of God and the world.

"Oh God, finally..."

Susan rained kisses on Matt as he carried her awkwardly inside and kicked the door shut. He tried to set her down but she slid to the floor and fumbled with his belt, trying to get it unbuckled.

"Hey!" Matt caught her wrists, and she shoved her face against his crotch until he pushed her roughly away.

"Oh please, Matt, please, I can’t wait. Please let me fuck you," she begged breathlessly, straining to get her hands on him.

Matt grinned at her flushed face, her disheveled hair. But he tightened his grip and pushed her back onto the floor, and sat on her chest.

Then he noticed the smell.

"Lordy, Sue, you smell like a rotting clam."

Susan moaned as her body took his weight, and she wiggled underneath him. Her hands groped at him until he pinned her arms under his knees.

He cupped her face, forcing her to look away from his crotch. "Looks like you’ve been having some, uh, fun while I was gone."

"Fuck me, fuck me, oh please, oh please," she gasped. He grinned again.

"Persistent little twat. I can see why you’re such a good politician." He patted her face.

She squirmed.

"Please Matt; I need you...right now, I..."

He shook her head with his hands, making her cheeks wiggle.

"You know, Sue, I won’t turn you down, but I’m going to make you a deal. You want to hear it?"

Susan tried to calm down. "O-okay."

"Okay. Here’s the deal." Matt gently played with her hair as he spoke. "We’re going to take this slow tonight, okay?"

She nodded.

"Good. First, since you’re so God-awful horny, I’ll let you give me a little blow job. How does that sound?"

Susan began panting uncontrollably, and a giddy smile lit up her face.

"Looks like that’s a yes. Cool."

Matt unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans as he spoke.

"If you can make me come, we’ll get you cleaned up and dressed so you look cute, and then we’ll go to a movie like I promised." He grabbed her by the hair with his free hand, pulling her head towards him. "I’ll give you a bath and dress you myself." Susan moaned and almost came at the thought. "Then after the movie, I promise you’ll get all the sex you can handle. Deal?"

Susan managed to nod again, licking her lips.

"Good girl."

He used his free hand to yank his pants down under his crotch and his dick plopped out onto Susan’s upturned face and slid off one side.

He was huge, bigger than she’d imagined, more than twice the size of the dildo she’d been jacking off with earlier. She looked at his cock with a mixture of lust and fear, wondering how she was able to take him last night, finally realizing why her pussy was so sore.

I must’ve been really drunk, she thought.

He grabbed his dick and plopped it back onto her face. It was hot and sweaty, and Susan licked him with the little pink tip of her tongue, making his cock twitch.

She grinned up at him and began slowly running her tongue up and down the bottom of his dick, watching it grow, until it hovered, pulsing, just above her face. He was so big; she wondered how he didn’t get dizzy and pass out from blood loss to his head.

Matt lifted his ass off her chest, his knees and all of his weight pressing hard into her upper arms.

Susan sucked in air as pain bolted up her arms.

"Oww..."

His dick slid down her face and Matt pushed the swollen, purple head into her mouth, cutting off her air with a gurgle.

Her eyes bulged with pain and shock, and she kicked and thrashed under him, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms completely to the floor, shoving his dick deeper into her mouth. Susan heard her jaws crack as Matt used his hips to fuck her face, pushing harder with each thrust, forcing his cock into throat.

He never pulled out, just kept fucking her deeper and deeper. Susan gagged and vomited around his cock, spewing burning bile out from her nose, and she saw spots as her vision slowly turned red and hazy. She knew she was going to pass out from lack of oxygen, and could feel her body getting weaker and weaker. She didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore, and her legs stopped kicking and just flopped to the floor, twitching.

She barely noticed when he was fully buried in her mouth, when his heavy balls smacked her chin and he started to viciously pump in and out of her mouth, pounding her head against the floor.

Susan listened to the smacking sound as his balls whacked her face, and she slowly faded away.

Suddenly, Matt jerked once and groaned. He squeezed her wrists painfully tight as he shot his load, filling her throat with hot, salty cum. He jerked again, spurting more of the sticky fluid into her, and then he slowly pulled out.

Tears of shame and fear and lust ran down the sides of her face as Susan choked and coughed the vomit and cum out of her nose and throat.

"Whooo-boy!"

Matt patted her face and sat back on her stomach, stroking himself and rubbing his thick, wet cock on her tits. Another little twitch sent another spurt of hot cum into the air and over her shoulder, and he sighed happily. He still had her upper arms pinned under his knees, but he’d let go of her hands, and Susan grabbed his dick in a death grip.

He’d almost killed her, but she’d never felt so fucking horny. Still gasping for breath, she started licking him clean.

"That’s my girl," he smiled down at her and pinched her nipples.

When she’d cleaned him to her satisfaction, she wiped the spooge off her face and grinned up at him.

"Did I do a good job?"

He stood up and she grabbed for him. Pins and needles exploded in her numb arms as the blood began to circulate again.

"A very good job."

Matt bent over, picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, making her giggle again.

"All right. Let’s go pick out some clothes."

As he carried her into the bedroom, patting her bare ass, Susan wondered just what the hell was happening to her.

The bedroom smelled musky, of sex.

Matt took a look at the vibrator lying on the bed and the big, wet bed-stain and grinned.

"Nice dildo, Sue." He patted her ass again.

She grimaced, embarrassed.

"I wouldn’t have needed it if you’d stayed with me today."

Matt carried Susan into the bathroom, propped her up in the shower and turned on the water. He stepped out of his clothes, and then slipped into the shower with her, taking her into his arms.

She melted into him, trying to kiss him, but he turned his head away.

"Uh-uh. Not until you’ve brushed your teeth, kiddo. Your breath smells awful."

Her hands flew to her mouth, remembering the vomit.

What the hell did he expect after that, minty fresh?

He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around, holding her tight, and kissed her neck.

Susan felt his dick slide up the inside of her leg, and she pushed her ass against him, bending over, reaching for him between her legs. She gripped his cock, marveling at how big he was, and guided him to her pussy.

This is what she’d been waiting for all fucking day.

She spread her legs wide and braced her hands on the tile wall of the shower, arching her back to give him better access to her body. He grabbed her around her waist, and she gasped as he pushed into her.

"Oh God!"

Susan pushed her ass against him, urging him on. It hurt, but her pussy was so relaxed from her day of masturbating that he slid right in. She felt him cup her breasts and pull her closer to him.

He kissed her cheek and whispered into her ear:

"Whose little bitch are you, Sue? Are you my little bitch?"

She managed to lick her lips and nod as she ground her ass against his crotch.

"I want you to say it, Sue. I want to hear you say it."

Susan touched his face, ran her hand through his wet hair as she shower poured down on them. She tipped her head as he nuzzled the soft flesh of her neck.

She licked her lips again.

"I’m yours Matt."

"All mine?"

She nodded blissfully.

"All yours. I’m...all y-yours. Your l-l-little bitch."

Her orgasm flooded over her, and she felt her own hot juice running down her legs as Matt, her man, slowly, gently fucked her from behind.

 

Afterwards, they toweled each other dry, and he let her brush his hair. Susan liked the way he looked naked. He was tall and his body was tan and rugged and hard, with a light dusting of hair around his groin and chest, on his arms and legs.

Susan mentally compared him with her husband, and suddenly decided she had no idea why she’d ever been attracted to Mike. He was just never her type, except for maybe his intellect. Physically, Matt was so much bigger than Mike - in every way. Even now, soft and flaccid, his cock was massive. She ran her finger the length of him and cupped his balls. They were soft and heavy in her hand. She thought carrying that load around must be uncomfortable.

Susan jumped a little as his cock throbbed, then grinned at him.

"What do you do when you get horny?"

He looked at her with a goofy smile.

"You mean like a few minutes ago?"

She blushed.

"No, no, I mean, when you’re dressed. How do you...you know...carry it?"

"Oh..." He nodded. "It likes to ride straight up, but it pretty much does whatever it wants to do, and pokes wherever it wants to poke."

"Don’t you...I don’t know, have any control?"

He grinned. "Over my dick? Not a bit."

Mike did the same thing."

Matt grinned again. Sometimes he wondered that himself.

"Maybe it is."

"Does it make you do stuff?"

Matt blinked at her, and took the hairbrush from her.

"Like what?"

She shrugged and reached for her toothbrush.

"I don’t know. Like...like..." she shook her head again. "I don’t know. Mike used to say that all men thought with their dicks."

He grinned again, giving her an odd look.

"Wow. What a vocabulary. When did Miss Little Goodie-Goodie start swearing?"

Susan thought about that as she squirted some toothpaste onto the brush and ran it under the faucet.

"Apparently about a day ago, right after we had lunch together."

"Huh. And it’s all my fault, I take it?"

She grinned and pressed her ass into him again.

Matt quietly brushed her hair while she scrubbed her teeth. She enjoyed the feel of his cock pressed against her, suddenly feeling a little horny again.

He set the brush on the counter as she rinsed her mouth and turned back to him, smiling.

"There." She showed him her teeth, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Better?"

He picked her up and kissed her, and she closed her eyes as he cupped her ass and sat her down on the counter.

"Better," he agreed.

Susan felt something poking against her crotch, and looked down to see his dick, hard and throbbing again, pushing into her.

"I thought we needed to go," she whispered.

"It’s okay, everybody can wait for us.

Everybody, who? She wondered.

He kissed her, and she wrapped her legs around his ass, pulling him to her.

"Just one more for the road."

Her body twitched as he entered her, and she knocked her toothbrush clattering into the sink.

"Okay. Just...o-one...m-m-more..."

Unbelievable, Susan thought. I’m still...horny.

Her pussy was burning up, and little beads of moisture still dripped down her legs.

She shook her head.

Here I am, she thought, naked with a man I barely know, who’s just fucked me silly twice - hell, almost choked me to death with his cock - after spending all day playing with myself, and I can’t get enough.

It was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. It was like an overwhelming physical need.

Matt had just stepped into the bedroom after they’d finished their last bout of lovemaking, leaving her in the bathroom.

Something in her body screamed at her the minute he left the room and Susan had a completely irrational, crazy feeling that he was going to leave. She bolted out of the bathroom after him, and almost knocked him over as he bent over and picked up his clothes.

The sight of him bent over with his ass in the air sent the room spinning around her, and she had to grab him to keep from falling down.

"Hey!" he laughed at her as she clutched him in a panic.

This definitely isn’t normal, she thought.

Matt was more right than he knew when he called her a goody-two-shoes. Until Mike, she’d only had a couple boyfriends during high school and college. She never had the time, or any interest, really. And those didn’t stay around very long, after they learned that her education and then her career came first, before anything else.

She’d been a virgin until her senior year in college, until a friend invited her to a party in the football dorm with him.

Susan closed her eyes at the memory. He’d given her a cup of punch, telling her that she didn’t have to drink if she didn’t want to. The punch was good, and she’d actually started to wind down and enjoy herself. A cup or two later, though, and the party was swimming around her, and her ‘friend’ had her pinned to a couch, ripping at her clothes.

She woke up two days later, back at her room, naked and alone, looking and feeling a lot like she had when she woke up this morning. Even now, she had no idea how many times she’d been raped while she was unconscious, or how she got back to her dorm.

Later, Susan learned that she wasn’t the only girl invited to the parties and molested. In fact, it was a party ritual: every weekend, a couple girls who weren’t with the jock click were lured to the party and drugged, then raped, by whoever wanted them over a period of a couple days.

They were just another party favor.

Susan reasoned that she was lucky; she never got pregnant, never caught any diseases. The whole experience was awful, but she never reported it, and could only remembered bits of what happened.

It was her one dirty secret, her shame.

Susan kept it to herself, never telling anyone. Instead, she used the experience to motivate herself, and eventually, she managed to turn it into a positive, a good thing. She’d finished at the top of her law class, and she met Mike at his father’s firm, after she’d been hired to manage their corporate accounts.

Mike pursued her for months until she broke down and started to date him. And Susan had tried to forget the rape when they finally made love, when they decided to get married and have children.

She tried, but it was always at the back of her mind, and never quite went away. It defined her emotionally and she built her career on the seed of what happened to her. It had slowly poisoned her relationship with Mike, and her kids…

But now, with Matt...

She knew she wasn’t being herself. The coincidences were so strong...

Susan wondered again if somehow she’d been drugged. But it still didn’t make sense. All the sex/rape drugs she’d ever heard of in the course of her work didn’t make you...excited. They knocked you out, or at best just made you incapable of any action. And not for more than a few hours or so...

Maybe she’d just got drunk. And whatever inhibitions she had hit the wind when he took her home. After all, she’d been the one to actually pull him into the house last night.

Susan shook her head a little. She’d definitely lost her inhibitions. Letting him fuck her on her bathroom counter? Mike could barely get her to spread her legs for him in bed, much less in the shower or anywhere else.

She picked up Matt’s shirt, and he let her dress him. She used the chance to explore his body. When she finally buckled his belt, locking away his penis, she felt a moment of…what? Something that twisted in her stomach. Loss?

Maybe.

She kissed him through his pants. Maybe she just liked him. Susan sighed, and he grinned at her.

"Don’t worry. Remember, I promised you all the sex you can handle tonight."

It was like he could read her mind. She patted his crotch and stood up.

"Your turn."

She pulled open her dresser and rustled through her clothes.

"What should I wear? Jeans? I haven’t been out to a movie in a long time."

"Ah-ah-ah. No-no-no. No jeans." He pulled her away and sat her on the bed. "I told you I was going to get you ready, you just sit tight."

He stepped back and looked at her.

"Okay. I dig the prim schoolteacher look you’ve got going, but we’re gonna sex you up a little. Where’s your best lingerie?"

Susan grinned and pointed to the top drawer of her dresser.

"In here?" She nodded and Matt opened the drawer. She saw him whistle to himself.

"Do you actually wear this stuff?" He pulled out a lacy white satin bra, and a black garter belt with a pair of black silk stockings.

Susan blushed.

"Yeah, but not because...I mean, I like to feel pretty. You don’t like them?"

Matt cocked his eyebrow and knelt by her feet.

"What’s not to like? Call me an old fashioned chauvinist, but I think women should dress like this all the time."

He slipped the garter belt up her legs and Susan lifted her hips off the bed to help him.

"Really?"

He grinned. "You bet. Old Hugh got it right."

She was confused.

"Who?"

"No, ‘Hugh’.

She groaned. "Stop that. I mean, who are you talking about?"

"You ever read Playboy?"

She shook her head.

"Are you kidding?"

He grinned again.

"Well, Hugh - Hef - makes all the women who pose for the magazine look very soft and sweet. I’ve had a lingerie fetish since I was a kid."

He rolled up her stockings and she closed her eyes as he slipped them up her thighs. She’d forgotten how cool and smooth the silk felt against her skin. He attached the stockings to the belt with their little clamps, and pulled her to her feet.

"Keep your arms up. Just like that."

He pulled the bra straps over her arms and reached around her to clasp the back. She kissed his neck as she felt him struggle with the snaps, and giggled at him.

"Hey, look, don’t mock me, I prefer leaving these things on," he said, grinning back at her. "Or I just rip ‘em off. I’m not a pro at putting them on, especially when I can’t see what I’m doing."

Susan pushed him away and reached behind her back, snapping the hooks into place. She adjusted the straps and cupped her breasts for him.

She remembered a line her son had used on his girlfriend.

"Daddy like?"

Matt laughed and pinched her ass.

"Very perky."

He pulled a black slip out of the drawer, and she leaned against him as she stepped into it.

"Okay. Skirts and blouses," he asked as he settled it around her waist.

She pointed again. "Um, there and there." He bent over and searched through the drawers. "Uh, Matt, what about panties?"

He looked up at her and shook his head.

"Nope."

"But..."

He stood up, holding a white silk blouse and a black skirt.

"I said no." He shook out the blouse. "Now give me your hands."

He slipped the blouse on and buttoned it to the bottom of her breasts, leaving the collar open and showing off her cleavage, and then he buttoned the cuffs around her wrists. She could just make out the soft, lacy outline of her bra through the gauzy material of the blouse.

He shook out the skirt for her and she stepped into it, letting him pull it over her hips, and she helped him tuck in her blouse while he zipped her up. She started to finish buttoning her front, but he smacked her hand.

"Ow!"

"Stop it, then." He looked her up and down. "Jewelry?"

She opened a carved wood box on the dresser, and she grinned when he found her favorite pearl earrings. She felt another small tingle shoot through her body when he put them on for her.

"There’s a necklace that goes with these..." She stopped as he shook his head.

"Good idea, but no again. Do you have a jacket that matches that skirt?"

Susan opened her walk-in closet and searched through her clothes. She pulled out a black jacket and slipped it on. Matt stopped her as she tried to button it.

"Leave it alone." He looked in the closet. "All right. Now shoes. You have any high heels?"

She pulled out a pair of black pumps and slipped them on.

"Perfect."

She turned on the overhead light and looked at herself in the mirror at the back of the closet. Matt held her hands, and she spun for him.

"Okay, just two little things."

"What?"

Matt held her left hand and slowly pulled off her wedding ring.

"We get rid of this."

A flash of guilt ran through her as he tossed it casually onto the floor.

"Oh! Matt, that was..."

"Nothing. That was your old life." He cupped her chin in his hand, made her look him in the eye. "Whose bitch are you?"

"W-what?"

He shook her a little.

"I said, 'whose bitch are you?'"

Fear ran through her for a second, until she remembered the shower.

"I’m your little bitch," she said quietly.

He grinned and grabbed his jacket, pulled something out of his pocket.

"Good. Turn around."

He faced her towards her mirror and stood behind her.

"Hold your hair up, out of the way."

She folded her hair over the top of her head, and a prickling, burning sensation ran through her as he buckled a thick, heavy leather collar around her neck. He put it on tight, and she ran the tip of her finger around its edge.

"There. Now you’re mine."

She stared at him.

"What are you talking about?"

The look on his face scared her a little. He looked at his watch.

"Come on. We need to go."

 

She was horny again, squirming around in her seat, playing with the collar around her neck.

What the hell did he mean, ‘now you’re mine’?

When she asked him again, Matt just smiled at her and said, "Shhh. You’ll see."

So damn weird. But she was definitely ready again, wet and waiting. She had been ever since he buckled on the collar.

The whole business was baffling, and Susan was so distracted, she never thought to ask where they were going, or what they were going to see, until Matt backed into a parking spot and turned off the car.

"Here we are."

He got out and walked around to her side of the car, holding out his hand for her. He helped her out and she looked around.

Susan recognized this place.

They’d driven to one of the oldest sections of town, to the oldest movie house in the state, the Carver Theater. About fifteen years ago, when all the multi-plex theaters started popping up around town, business here had slowed enough that the old owner had sold the Carver for what pittance he could, and the new owner had turned it into a porno house, showing movies for the trench-coat-pervert-kiddie-rapist crowd.

This was one of the places her bill, when it passed, would help get shut down.

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

"C’mon. Trust me."

Matt pulled her reluctantly across the street, to the box office, where a fat, bald man sat, smoking a cigar.

"Two, please. Main theater."

Susan was shaking her head. Something about this felt really bad. A warning bell went off - No no no no no - screaming in her head, and the fat man seemed to blur behind the haze of smoke swirling around in the booth.

"That’ll be Fi’teen bucks."

Susan clutched Matt’s arm and the world seemed to spin around her as Matt handed the fat man a twenty dollar bill. The fat man gave him a five and a couple old-fashioned ticket stubs back.

"Good choice, Sonny."

He winked, and gave Susan a nasty, wicked grin.

"Enjoy the show."

Susan could hear him laughing as Matt pulled her inside. They passed a concession counter, where a skinny man missing his front teeth was busy picking his nose.

Matt examined the selection and turned to her.

"Do you want something to drink, or some popcorn?"

She stared at Matt. He seemed to be having a good time.

The skinny man pulled something green and elastic from his nose.

"Oh, God. No!"

Matt shrugged at the skinny man, who rolled his treasure between his thumb and forefinger.

"Nothin’?" He asked.

"Nope. Guess not."

"Thuit yourthelf," he lisped, and flicked the booger into the popcorn. He leaned over the counter and grinned at Susan as Matt led her to a door. "Hey, don’ worry, ‘hon. It juth addth flavor."

Susan shuddered, and Matt opened the door and ushered her into a noisy theater. She stopped short, letting her eyes get accustomed to the gloom.

The theater was huge, with a balcony above them.

Susan guessed there were about thirty or forty rows of seats running up from the old fashioned stage below the movie screen in the front of the theater. Each row was split into three columns, with about ten seats down the middle and four on each end. She had no idea how many the balcony held.

At least seven hundred seats, and every one looked taken. A loud, excited murmur filled the theater like a strange aura of expectation.

Susan looked around, flabbergasted.

"What are we here for?"

"It’s a special surprise."

What the hell is so special about this place, she wondered. She knew the building was so old it was on a list as a state monument. Maybe this was a benefit to renovate the theater.

"Your tickets, sir."

Susan jumped as a huge man, who looked as hairy as a bear and was dressed in an old-fashioned usher’s uniform, detached himself from the wall behind them.

Matt handed him their tickets, and the tall man shined a flashlight on them.

"Right this way, sir."

The creepy usher led them down the aisle.

She snuck her hand through Matt’s arm, for some reason not wanting to leave him even for a second. The loud buzz of voices she heard when they stepped inside quieted to a hush. Susan knew it was just her imagination, but she felt every eye on them as they sat down.

The sudden quiet was overwhelming. Susan felt something like awe directed towards Matt as he settled in, and a barely restrained animosity towards her.

Her little warning bell amped up, but Matt seemed completely relaxed. He smiled at the smelly, stinky creep sitting next to him and they struck up a conversation.

She tried to take in what she could in the gloom as the volume of voices around her slowly rose.

The stage looked real, probably left over from when the building actually had live performances. A small stairwell at each end of the aisles led up to the stage floor and the movie screen. It looked like there was an old, ratty mattress thrown up there, along with some chains and other junk. The room stank of unwashed bodies, stale alcohol, and worse; everybody around her looked like a bum, and they all seemed to be leering drunkenly at her.

If Matt hadn’t been here with her, she would have run screaming from the room.

A scrawny old man sitting to her left gave her a gap-toothed grin, and she leaned against Matt, as far away from the smelly man as possible. Matt smiled at her and patted her thigh, tickling the inside of her leg with his fingers. She felt a little rush of excitement at his touch, and she was instantly wet.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"We should’ve stayed home."

He laughed a little and she moved his hand up her thigh, until it rested on her soft, curly mound. Susan felt her breath catch and she squirmed a little as his hand gently massaged her under her skirt.

God, she thought wistfully, it’s been less than an hour, and all I want to do is fuck him again. I’d even do him in his car.

The room spun around her as Matt’s finger slipped into her pussy, slowly sliding in and out. She closed her eyes and leaned her head on his shoulder, spreading her legs a little for him.

He played with her, and Susan wondered what it would be like trying to have sex with him in his little BMW. Her Lexus would be a lot easier. It was so much roomier... her eyes popped open as she realized that she’d left her car in Matt’s parking lot.

The scrawny old man next to her cackled wetly, coughing up a chunk of phlegm that he spit onto the floor. Susan stared at the man until she realized he was watching Matt rub her pussy.

Oh God, what am I doing?

She grabbed Matt’s hand and pushed it away, slapping her legs together and bolting straight up in her seat. Matt looked at her, surprised, and the scrawny man pointed to his hand and gave Matt a thumbs up.

Susan stared at the stage, blushing furiously as the scrawny man elbowed her arm and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Matt just grinned and rubbed her thigh again.

His touch seemed to calm her down a bit. Susan started to relax as the fat man from the ticket booth was led down the aisle by the huge usher. He climbed the stairs to the stage, and the crowd applauded him. He bowed with a flourish, taking a microphone from the usher, who stepped back into the shadows.

The fat man tapped the microphone, sending a loud whine through the speaker system, and he grinned at his audience.

"Is this thing on?"

The lights dimmed even further, and the screen in back of him flickered to life. The fat man’s image loomed over the crowd.

Susan stared, then blinked, and stared again.

The man’s image on the movie screen was clear as day. But the real man, standing just a few feet in front of her, kept blurring in and out of focus, just like he had when he sold Matt his tickets.

Susan looked away. The rest of the crowd didn’t seem to notice. They just stared up at the stage, laughing at the man’s stupid jokes. Susan closed her eyes and shook her head. She’d assumed that all the smoke in the little booth had obscured her vision before, but now she wasn’t so sure. He still chomped on a cigar, and she could make that and the microphone out fine, but his face was just a dark, black blur.

Susan felt a knot of fear grow deep in her belly. Then she realized he was talking about her.

"And I’d like to welcome a special couple to tonight’s show. My buddy, Matt (a loud round of applause for Matt, who grinned), who you all know organized this little shin-dig, and his... (Susan saw the man’s face clearly for a second, then it melted away until she could just see his eyes, his shiny, beady little black eyes glaring down at her) ...lovely, lovely new friend, the reason we’re all here, your State Rep., Ms. Susan Manning!"

Oh, God! He didn’t just say her name, did he?

Panic surged through Susan as the man linked her with Matt. She felt her carefully constructed career suddenly slipping away.

And then she realized that he’d said ‘Ms.’ Not ‘Mrs. Susan Manning’ - ‘Ms. Susan Manning’. The irrational feeling of dread bubbled up and over, making her shiver.

Up on stage, the fat man was waving in their direction.

"Matt, why don’t you come on up and tell us what we’re going to be seeing tonight."

Susan couldn’t speak. She grabbed at Matt, not wanting him to leave her, but her hands groped at air as he stood up and waved, then bounded up the stairs to the stage to a standing ovation. The usher handed Matt another microphone, and he grinned out at the crowd. The fat man held up his hands, and the applause gradually settled down.

Matt cleared his throat.

"I’m sure you’re all excited to get the movie under way, but I’ll give you a quick introduction. What you’re about to see is a quick cut of footage that we shot last night, so Melvin and I will narrate as we go along." He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked up towards the projection booth. "Let’s get rolling, shall we?"

Susan hugged herself, crossing her arms under her breasts, and tried to sink back into her seat.

What the hell could this be? After two nights of complete weirdness, Susan thought she was ready for anything.

She was wrong.

 

The sound of a projector turning clicked away from in back of the theater, and the screen went dark, fading into a shot of a teenage girl, sobbing hysterically and running for her life through a rough-hewn, rocky tunnel.

The film was shot from what looked like a series of video cameras mounted on the walls and roof of the tunnels. It cut choppily from one position to another as the girl ran, turning corners, moving from one tunnel to the next.

The girl was naked except for a few clothes that were ripped and torn. And just steps behind her, an impenetrable black mass of rolling, tentacled shadows pursued her.

The girl caromed off a wall and fell, sliding on a rough, concrete floor. She scrambled with her feet and shot forward again, running full-tilt into a heavy door.

Susan got a good look at the girls face as she jerked the door open, and her hand shot to her mouth.

"Oh God."

Susan’s hand trembled as she recognized the poor girl, her face a mask of fear as she ran from whatever was chasing her.

"Rachel?"

Even as she said her name, Susan knew. The girl on the screen was her daughter.

Matt’s voice cut through the fog of fear that had settled around her, and Susan looked at him, happily smiling down at her from the stage.

"She’s really quite pretty when she’s frightened, isn’t she Sue? I never thought she was attractive before, but watching her now, well..."

Matt paused, and on screen, Rachel threw her slim body against the heavy door, pushing it shut. She was in a dark warehouse, and she turned and cringed like a trapped animal as rows of floodlights snapped on, one by one.

"Here’s our big scene, everybody." Matt told his audience.

Rachel leaned against the door, panting with terror, as a circle of a dozen muscular, naked men wearing nothing but black leather bondage masks closed in around her. In the middle of the circle, two more men, naked and leashed with heavy chains, frantically clawed the air at the sight of her.

Susan felt her world tilt at the sight of her husband and her son Todd, Their faces were twisted almost beyond recognition, and they pulled frantically at the chains keeping them from Rachel.

Rachel tried to run again, jumping into the wall of naked men who pushed her into the middle of the circle. She jumped back, whimpering, as her father snatched at her leg.

And then the masked men let him loose.

Susan almost fell out of her seat as she watched her husband attack her daughter, pulling her down and pinning her to the floor. Rachel was screaming as he rolled her onto her stomach and pried her legs open. He wedged himself between her legs, his penis hard and jutting straight out, and he fell on her.

The fat man chortled into his microphone. "She doesn’t look too excited to see her dad, does she?"

The men around Susan chuckled, and Susan felt tears roll down her cheeks as her husband brutally ripped into Rachel, groping and biting as he raped her.

And then the masked men let her son free.

"Can we get some sound for this?" Matt asked from the stage.

Speakers around the theater crackled to life, and Susan covered her ears as Rachel’s screams mixed with the cheers from the crowd.

Todd tried to shove his father off Rachel, and for a second, Susan thought he was trying to help her.

But Mike held on and Todd rolled them over until Rachel was splayed out on top of her father with her legs spread wide open, and Todd grabbed her arms as she feebly tried to fight him off. The cameraman angled his shot from behind Todd, so the entire theater could see Rachel’s face and her crotch as her brother penetrated her.

The crowd cheered again, and Susan screamed along with her daughter as Todd took her in two, quick thrusts.

Susan tried to stand and run, but strong hands grabbed her from behind and wrapped in her hair, pulling her back into her seat.

"You think you’re leavin’?" a voice from behind her growled. "You ain't goin’ anywhere until Matt or Melvin says you can, you fuckin’ bitch."

Susan choked as her dog collar was yanked tight against her throat, and she heard the clink of a chain and a metallic ‘click’, then someone gave two, short jerks against her new leash. He pulled her hair and bent her head back over the seat as someone took Matt’s chair.

"We wanna play wi’tcha for a while, bitch." The man behind her pointed at the movie screen. "’Sides, this shit is just gettin’ good. You don’t wanna miss the end. Uh-uh, nossir."

He let her hair go, and Susan tried to unbuckle her collar.

"Bad idea, bitch!"

The man behind her smacked the back of her head hard enough that Susan saw a white flash of light, and then her arms were yanked over her head. Susan felt cold metal slap around her wrists, and she cried out as her hands were pulled down behind her back, raising her slightly out of her seat and forcing her to bend backwards at the waist to alleviate some of the pressure.

She heard the scrawny old bum next to her chortle, and she gasped as she felt rough, callused hands running over her body, grabbing at her breasts and ripping her blouse open. Susan screamed as the man that sat next to her pulled her bra down under her breasts, then leaned over and sucked at her nipple.

"Oh God, no...!"

She kicked and twisted in her seat, and he bit down hard, sending a bolt of pain lancing through her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the scrawny old man to her left unzip his pants and pull out his penis, and then he was leaning over her too, licking his lips and running a cold hand under her skirt and up her thigh to her pussy.

On screen, Todd and Mike had developed a rhythm, both their faces scrunched tight as they fucked Rachel.

They had rolled onto their sides with Rachel sandwiched between them, and Mike thrust into her ass, forcing her forward onto Todd, and then Todd pounded into his sisters pussy, forcing her body back against her father.

The man behind Susan held her still, with her hands pinned behind her back and his hand tangled in her hair, forcing her to watch her daughter’s rape. The men who were sitting around her stood and started to line up to take the place of the two men pawing and biting at her body.

Matt and the other men on stage grinned down at her, and Susan squeezed her eyes shut.

"Ah-ah-ah, Susan. You need to see this. Homer, make sure she keeps her eyes open, please."

The man behind her hit her head, over and over. Susan bit her lip and squeezed her eyes together, tears of pain and fear rolling down her face, until the man covered her forehead with his hand and pried her eyelids open with his fingers.

"You do what Matt tells you, bitch! You un’nerstand?"

The scrawny man wrapped one of his legs around hers, forcing her legs open, and was finger-fucking Susan, jabbing his fingers into her pussy as the other man sucked her tits and jacked off in his pants.

On stage, Melvin was sweating like a pig, and his dick was ready to explode. Fuck this shit. Time to get the real show on the road, he thought.

"Gentlemen!"

His voice boomed over the speakers. All heads turned his way.

"Homer, why don’t you escort our new friend up here, if you please, before her suitors take their turns a little early. Manny, will you help carry her up?"

The huge usher appeared, looming over Susan, picked her up like she was a sack of potatoes and threw her easily over her shoulder. Her view spun and she got her first view of the man behind her - Homer - as he handed Manny her leash and climbed over her chair.

Susan gasped with shock.

Homer was a burn victim. He was hairless, and his nose and ears were completely missing. The flesh of his face had melted down over his eyes and mouth, and both his face and hands were covered with mottled, angry red scar tissue.

He leered at her and climbed over her chair. Most of the crowd followed them as Manny carried Susan up the steps to the stage.

On screen, Mike was pounding Rachel’s ass in a frenzy, and he let out a bellow as he came, squeezing her little breasts from behind. When he finished, he rolled off, his hands leaving red splotches across her chest. Todd pushed Rachel to the floor, pinning her hands against the concrete, and fucked her hard enough to make her titties bounce. Todd was pounding his sister so hard he popped out of her as he came, and squirted cum all over the dark triangle of hair covering her little pink pussy.

He collapsed, senseless, on top of her, and the screen went dark.

Manny dropped Susan to her knees on the stage, yanking her leash hard until she choked and kneeled in front of Matt and Melvin.

Melvin bent over her and grabbed her chin in his thick hand. Susan tried to focus on his beady, black eyes as his face swam in and out of focus around them.

His fleshy lips parted in an emotionless grin, and Susan shook uncontrollably as a spasm of lust flooded through her.

"Did you like the movie we made for you?"

Susan felt her pussy get wet at the sound of his voice, and she would have collapsed if Manny hadn’t grabbed the chain linking her handcuffs and held her up by her arms.

"Wh-what did you do to them?" She stammered.

His wicked grin spread further across his face. Susan wondered why she could see that, and his eyes, so clearly, when the rest of him was like a swirling, black cloud, sneaking around the edge of her vision.

"We drugged them, of course, just like you."

"What?"

He smiled and gestured at Matt.

"I’m sure you’ve noticed over the past day or two how strangely...excited you’ve felt. Even now, with these awful men touching you, after what you’ve seen what happened to your family, I’m sure you’re wet and ready for action. Shall we check? Hmm?"

Melvin slipped his hand into her open blouse and cupped her breast. Susan shivered with excitement.

Suddenly, everything fell into place. She glared at Matt, who grinned back at her.

"You did this to me?"

Matt nodded as Melvin yanked her blouse open, giving the men gathering around her a better view of her breasts.

"Matt just slipped you a few small doses of the same drug we gave your family. It’s highly addictive, by the way. You’ll find that you need to ingest at least a small dose every day, or..." He shrugged. "It also has some other, unusual effects. For example, imprinting. Baby birds, when hatched, bond with the first creature they see. With this drug, females who take it experience almost immediate and overwhelming arousal. It’s a perfect date-rape drug, we’ve found. The female is usually conscious and very responsive, at least for a small amount of time. The imprinting happens during sex right after the drug is first taken. And the arousal grows exponentially over time, until satiated."

Melvin grinned.

"Unfortunately, for the female, only the person she was with during the imprinting can actually fulfill the urge." He patted her face again. "I bet you had quite an afternoon, hey? Spent most of it whacking your clam, until Matt came to pick you up?"

Melvin slid his hands down her body and rucked her skirt over her hips. Susan heard the material rip and tear, and a loud cheer went up from the men around her as her naked ass was exposed.

"I think they approve of your choice of clothing, my dear."

Melvin ran his hand over her ass and fingered her asshole. He cupped her pussy with his other hand, and Susan closed her eyes in shame as her body responded to him.

"Perfect. Ready and waiting."

Susan bit her lip as he played with her. He patted her crotch and stood up.

Her voice was husky. "What did you do with my family? Where are they?"

He sighed and lit another cigar.

"Well. As you may have noticed, the drug is not so kind to men. Not kind at all." He shook out his match. "And you, my dear, you have been a very bad girl. As a public servant, you have made many, many of my friends very angry over the recent legislature you’ve proposed. Matt here cooked up a little plan so you can apologize and actually put your job to use benefiting those who you have slandered and disgraced by your conservative muck-raking."

He gestured to the usher.

"Manny, this would be a good time to introduce Susan to our friends. If you would be so kind as to let them in?"

"Sure, thing." Manny grunted and pushed through the crowd. Melvin turned back to Susan.

"And as for your husband. Well, he simply owns most of this town, and most of what he has, I want." He grinned. "Your daughter is fine." He gestured at the screen with his cigar. "And I think she’s going to be a big star, if she keeps giving us performances like the one we just watched. Don’t you boys?"

The men packed on stage cheered again.

"You’re probably wondering how we got to them. Well. Apparently, your daughter had quite the crush on our friend Matt here, and it was a simple thing to get her to let us into the house." He shrugged and smoked. "Truthfully, they didn’t put up much of a fight. We drugged your daughter first, and we let her live her little fantasy about Matt. I understand she was, well, pure?"

He looked at Matt.

"Pure and virginal."

Melvin grinned.

"Pure as snow. Now, your husband was kind enough to show us his will, though not without a little prodding. Did you know that your little Rachel and her brother stand to inherit everything?" He lowered his voice and spit out a chunk of tobacco. "Everything. Not a bit left over for you though, my dear, when your husband passes on. Must be very exciting for your children, I would think. Well. I can’t see why we would need your son, though, since Rachel is now imprinted to Matt. So..."

A growing sense of horror built in Susan as Melvin spoke.

"It seems your family was going to take a little vacation to the mountains. You may not know this, but your husband seems to have had a teensy drinking problem."

Melvin’s face drifted apart and when it melted together again, his grin was feral.

"In a week, or a month - sometime soon - the authorities will get a quick phone call, detailing an accident." He waved at the movie screen with his cigar. "And I thought it only fair to give your husband and son a nice little, well, send off."

The crowd parted as Susan stared at Melvin in horror. The usher pushed back through, followed by a dozen masked and naked men. They pushed the crowd back, and several of the masked men with video cameras positioned themselves around Susan.

The screen overhead blinked back to life, and Susan saw an image of herself looming overhead, completely surrounded by hundreds of evil, vile looking men.

"Y-you killed them?"

Melvin puffed happily, his body fading in and out of her vision.

"I’m afraid so, dear. You see, well, we need your daughter, for obvious reasons. But she’s not yet of age to claim her inheritance. You have, unofficially, become the guardian of her estate. And so, since I don’t have the patience to sit and wait, and despite the annoyance you’ve become with your meddling politics, I need to keep you alive, at least for a while. And luckily for you, Matt managed to convince me you’ll be much more valuable to me in your office than in the ground. So..."

He patted her face.

"I’m going to give you the chance, over the next few days, to personally give a very special apology to each and every gentleman here, who, afterwards, I believe will be more than happy to vote for you at the next election."

Melvin fished a tiny key from his pocket and unlocked her handcuffs. Two of the naked men immediately grabbed her wrists.

"So I will keep supplying you and your daughter with your daily fix. And to keep her safe, you will happily administer your daughter’s estate as I see fit, and you will exercise your political influence and social standing among those new friends of ours who may not yet see eye to eye with my...special needs, shall we say?"

He clapped his hands and looked around.

"Well! Matt, I sense the natives are getting restless. I think it’s time we share this bitch with our friends here." Melvin unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants. "I think I’ll indulge myself as well."

Susan screamed in horror. Instead of the cock she expected, a huge, black slimy monstrosity slithered out towards her.

Melvin grinned at Matt and grabbed Susan by the back of her head.

"You gonna stick around?"

Matt shook his head.

"I think I’m going to pay another visit to her daughter, but I’ll see you in a couple days. Here..." Matt tossed Melvin a round metal ring. "In case she bites."

Melvin grinned and pried open Susan’s mouth. He shoved the ring in, making her gag.

"Let’s make a movie!" he roared.

 

Manny and Homer followed as Roscoe helped Matt push through the crowd.

He paused at the door to the lobby, and turned to watch the crowd swarm over Susan. On the screen above, Melvin was forcing his cock into her wide-open mouth.

Something wasn’t right, and Matt couldn’t put his finger on it.

"You okay boss?" Manny clapped his shoulder with a hand the size of a small ham.

He shook his head and looked at Roscoe.

"Where’s Rachel?"

Roscoe licked his lips through the gap where his front teeth should’ve been.

"She’s on a plane to California, justh like you asthked."

Matt nodded. "Good. I want her as far away from here as possible."

"She gonna live with your other little fuck-girls down there?"

Matt nodded.

"You really make her take those drugs?" Manny wondered.

"No."

Homer tilted his head toward the stage. "Melvin wanted you to."

Matt considered how much to tell these three. He’d known Roscoe and Manny for some time now, but Homer was a new member of Roscoe’s crew.

"Yeah. But why?"

Manny shrugged.

"I dunno. It’s not like you needed her to."

"Exactly."

Matt looked back at the screen.

A scrawny old bum had taken Susan from behind and was furiously screwing her in the ass while Melvin fucked her face. Two other men had her hands wrapped around their cocks, forcing her to stroke them, and an assortment of hands groped her body.

The entire crowd of men waited their turn, dicks in hand.

They were all homeless, many of whom Susan’s legislature had displaced, others that had slipped by the police during their sweeps. Even more had just been released from prison. Roscoe and his crew had rounded them up on the night Matt took Susan to dinner, and Matt knew they were as horny as hell. There were hundreds, and Melvin had provided them all with free concessions earlier in the evening, while they waited - everything spiked with a drug cocktail - doping them up for the days ahead.

"You mind if I thtay here and enjoy mythelf?" Roscoe lisped.

"How many other guys do you have here?

Roscoe shrugged. "Maybe ten. Twelve. Somethin’ like that."

Matt nodded. "Sure. Just try to keep things under control, okay? She’s no good to anybody dead."

Roscoe patted Matt’s shoulder and grinned.

"Don’ worry. I’ll fuck her twice for ya boss."

Manny looked at the woman on screen and rubbed at his crotch.

"You want to stay too?" Matt asked.

Manny shook his head.

"Nah. Too many to wait for. I’m gonna go find myself a bar and a ‘Ho, and drink myself stupid. Wanna come along?"

Homer grinned. "Sounds good to me. That bitch’s pussy’s gonna be as wide as the grand canyon in a couple hours."

"All right. You guys go have fun."

The huge man clapped Matt on the shoulder again.

"What ‘bout you, boss?"

Matt pushed open the door.

"I’ve got some stuff to take care of. And I’ve got a date to plan with my old sister-in-law."

Matt watched Roscoe blend into the crowd and took a last look back at Susan as Manny and Homer followed him out the door.

 

-- To be continued --

 

            “Rob-Meister.”

 

Jack Anderson bobbed his square, chiseled jaw in return and toyed with the gold fountain pen clutched in his manicured hand, clicking it open-closed-open-closed.

 

“Running late again, Buddy? Shit like that goes on your permanent record. You don’t want anything to screw up the big promotion. Know what I mean?”

 

            “Fuck you.” Rob grinned. “Buddy.”

 

Rob scooted the chair closer until his soft belly pressed firmly into the edge of the conference table, and pretended to sort through the thick ream of paperwork that was laid out in front of him. He absently acknowledged a few guarded hellos from the other well-dressed attorneys already seated around the gleaming, polished walnut table. The gentle buzz of excited conversation began again after Rob settled in.

 

Not a typical meeting this morning. Today held a different agenda. Rob had been waiting for this day for months.

 

No, longer than that.

 

Years.

 

Rob glanced at the vacant chair at the front of the room and checked the time on his diamond Rolex. “Where’s the old man? I didn’t notice him out front…”

 

            “Dunno.” Jack shrugged. “Waiting till you got here to make his grand entrance.”

 

            Rob grinned. He couldn’t help it. “Right.”

 

            “Good morning everyone.”

 

            The sudden hush of activity was broken only by the whoosh from the buildings air-conditioning. Rob checked his tie again, and along with everyone else in the room, sat up straighter as Vanden Smith himself (the Vanden Smith – senior and founding partner of the corporate law firm of Smith, Marshall, Adams and Rodgers – that Vanden Smith) breezed into the conference room. Rob felt an aura of great respect bordering on awe fill the room.

 

Smith paused at the door and whispered to someone outside the office before entering the room, and then he crossed to the head of the table and smiled down at his senior staff like a proud father on his child’s graduation day. Tiny laugh lines creased his face, tanned an even brown from weeks spent sailing in the Caribbean every summer, his iron-grey hair cut short, his dark blue silk suit immaculately tailored to fit his tall, trim frame. A large diamond pinky ring flashed as he adjusted the knot on his tie.

 

He cleared his throat, and at that moment, Rob swore he could have heard a pin drop.

 

            “Well. It’s been quite a while since I’ve had the privilege of being in your fine company, hasn’t it?”

 

            A low murmur of agreement rose from around the table.

 

“First, I want to take this opportunity to personally thank each and every one of you, for all the hard work you put in each and every day.”

 

            Bright smiles from everyone.

 

            “As you all know,” Smith went on, “since David Rodgers unexpectedly retired at the beginning of the year, several names have been bandied about as to who might be on the fast track for a significant promotion. One or two of those names, I might add, come from this very office.”

 

            Smith nodded in Rob’s direction. Rob flushed with pride, and for a brief moment, he felt every eye in the room on him.

 

            “Our core company values have never been better represented. We expect nothing less than tireless, selfless hard work from our attorneys. And in return…well.” He paused theatrically and grinned. “Well. Today I am very proud to both acknowledge and reward that very same relentless devotion to this firm from one very impressive individual.”

 

He paused for effect before continuing.

 

“A person who I believe exemplifies every quality this company stands for and stands as a role model for everyone in this room.”

 

            Rob beamed and nodded, letting Smith’s rich, deep voice fade quietly into the background and wash over him. This was his moment, the one he’d committed his entire adult life for. He leaned back slightly in his chair, the leather crackling under his weight. He was confident; waiting impatiently for Smith to finish up with his little speech while the butterflies bounced wildly around in his gut.

 

            Finally, he thought.

 

Finally.

 

Finally, he was going to hear the magic words that would vindicate the last twenty-five years of his life, his utter dedication, his resolve to succeed.

 

Smith’s dazzling smile grew even larger, exposing his perfectly even, white teeth. The teeth of a movie star. “And so, without any further formalities, I’d like to introduce you to our new senior partner…      

 

This was it! Rob felt the flush creep up his neck to his cheeks, burning the tips of his ears. This was the moment he’d been working towards since he was just a boy, a child, when his asshole old man first called him a fat, stupid loser.

 

Smith stood back, extending his arm, and Rob began to stand…

 

“Yvonne Craig!”

 

***

 

            “Wha…”

 

            Rob was halfway out of his seat before he realized what had happened.

 

            “No…”

 

            Mistaken as he was, everyone else took his cue. The entire room stood and cheered as Yvonne Craig bounced through the door, giving a victory salute with her hands clasped together, waving her arms around like a major league slugger after hitting a grand-slam and sending the ball flying over the ballpark fence. She was looking sharp and sexy in a coal black suit, her heavy breasts bouncing in her crème colored silk blouse.

 

More cheers and a few cat-calls as she hugged Vanden Smith and left an imprint of her lips on his cheek from an impulsive kiss. Next to him, Rob heard Jack laughing as everyone else in the room applauded loudly.

 

Rob fell back into his chair, confused and defeated. The room spun around him, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. Sweat beaded his forehead and trickled down his back as he loosened his tie, unbuttoned his starched shirt; he felt suddenly claustrophobic, needing air, space.

 

He stared at the happy, smiling faces of the people he considered his colleagues, faces that suddenly seemed to mock him.

 

How the hell could this happen…?

 

He closed his eyes and tried to tune out, tried to escape to his quiet place, but he couldn’t concentrate; the sound of Jack’s harsh laughter rang in his ears. Rob squeezed his eyes even tighter and covered his ears with the palms of his hands, chanting under his breath until the others were seated again, listening intently as Vanden Smith continued to praise Yvonne Craig.

 

Smith droned on and on, until his deep voice blurred with the echoes of Jack’s laughter in Rob’s mind, slowly changing, until it was the voice of his father, taunting Rob’s latest failure from beyond the grave.

 

You stupid, worthless, good-for-nothing idiot…

 

***

 

…and I expect everyone to join us at MacTarahan’s tonight at six sharp and celebrate! I’ve been informed that Old Mac will have an open bar and grill ready for us, so don’t be late!”

 

“Hear, hear!”

 

“Al-right!”

 

Rob groaned inwardly and watched everyone file out, heading back to work and grinning with visions of drunken revelry. He gathered his things and stood slowly. When he reached the head of the table, Vanden Smith cleared his throat.

 

“Robert, I’d like you to stay for a moment.”

 

He indicated a chair for Rob, who blinked and sat, confused again.

 

“Now, then,” Smith sat for the first time during the meeting. “Robert.”

 

He punched a password into the computer built into the edge of the table and eased back into the plush leather of his chair. He steepled his fingertips under his chin, watching Rob with narrowed eyes. Rob squirmed uncomfortably.

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

Smith took a deep breath, exhaled. Tapped the computer screen. “Robert, when we hired you, we made you aware of the priorities of this firm. Yes?”

 

Rob blinked, not sure how to answer. “Um, yes. Yes, of course.”

 

“Good. You see, we’ve had Yvonne evaluate each of our attorneys’ performance over the last quarter.” Smith smiled, his teeth gleaming. “We’ll spend the next few days speaking with everyone.”

 

“Oh…I see…”

 

Smith punched up a file. “Looking at your caseload, we’ve noticed some issues.”

 

“Issues?”

 

“Mm. The LeineCorp case immediately comes to mind.” Smith raised an inquisitive eyebrow, one of his patented court gestures. “This was a settlement?”

 

“Uh, well, yes. They decided to settle after…”

 

“I’ve read the case files.” Smith waved his hand, turned to Yvonne. “How many billable hours did we lose by settling this out?”

 

“Hundreds, at least. Probably thousands.”

 

Smith settled his gaze back on Rob.

 

“Hundreds. Robert, do you realize how much money that translates to? Even at a low estimate?”

 

Wet stains appeared under Rob’s armpits and his mouth went dry. He shook his head, no. Smith just kept smiling, but the smile never quite reached his eyes. Rob felt like he was pinned to his seat, like a butterfly on display.

 

Smith tapped the table with a fingertip. “Yvonne?”

 

“Potentially?”

 

“That’s fine for our purposes.”

 

“Millions.”

 

Rob could almost literally see the walls closing in.

 

“Millions, Robert. Think on that for a moment. Mil-lions of dollars, lost. Because you allowed the idiots running LeineCorp to settle out of court.”

 

The door to the room opened, closed. A cool, air-conditioned breeze stirred the room, and a pair of heavy foot-falls thunked across the carpet and settled to a stop just behind Rob’s back. He resisted the urge to turn around. Smith speared him with another look, and continued with barely a pause.

 

“Robert? How many other clients have you allowed to settle this quarter?”

 

“Well, I…”

 

“Four.”

 

“Four, sir? I don’t…”

 

“Four. Four multi-million dollar cases.” There went the eyebrow again. “How about for the last year?”

 

Rob wanted to run, to hide. “I don’t…”

 

“Robert, Robert, Robert.” Smith swiveled his chair back and forth. “Not the kind of track record I look for in my attorneys.”

 

Rob felt like he was drowning. He glanced at Yvonne, hoping for a friendly face, some encouragement, but she just stared back at him, her beautiful tanned face cold and impassive.

 

Smith nodded at someone over Rob’s shoulder and a massive shadow appeared on the table in front of him. A large, scarred hand clamped tightly around Rob’s bicep, pulling him clear out of the chair like he weighed nothing more than a child.

 

“I’m sorry to say it, but we’re letting you go.”

 

“What? No…I…you can’t!” Rob stammered, dumbstruck. “I…my things, in my office…I…”

 

“Your personal effects are already packed and waiting by your car.” Smith waved his hand, dismissing him. “I believe we’re finished here. Yvonne?”

 

She shook her head. “That’s all.”

 

“Good. Well, then. Good luck to you, Robert. Clarence will show you out.”

 

***

 

Wednesday, 5:55 pm

 

At five-to six, a very drunk Rob sat in his Lexus outside MacTarahan’s restaurant with the stereo on loud and an open, half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels resting on the seat next to him. He was staring at the plain white envelope in his hands, turning it over and over.

 

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

 

I can’t believe it…

 

His last paycheck from Smith, Marshall, Adams and Rodgers.

 

They fired me.

 

Fired.

 

Me.

 

Why? Why? Why?

The same thoughts had been going round and round in his head for most of the afternoon, interspersed with the unshakable need to get rip-roaring drunk.

 

Rob couldn’t remember the last time he got drunk. Not like this.

 

            A sleek new black BMW pulled to the curb several spaces in front of him. The doors opened, and Vanden Smith stepped out and walked around to the passenger door. A moment later, the car alarm beeped and Smith escorted a smiling Yvonne Craig across the street.

 

Smith dropped the keys into her outstretched hand, and then, arm-in-arm, they disappeared into the restaurant.

 

            “Holy shit. Lookit that.” Rob whispered, open-mouthed. Suddenly, he knew. He understood everything. “That fucking cunt-hole got me fired.”

 

            Half a second later, tires screeched and horns blared as Rob ran across the street after them, bottle of whiskey in hand.

 

***

 

            Jack caught Rob as he shoved through the crowd in the restaurant lobby, making for the banquet room. He grabbed Rob by the lapels of his rumpled suit jacket and hauled him to a stop. Rob struggled enough that Jack had to shake him to get his attention.

 

            “Robster! Hold up man! Where do you think you’re going?”

 

            “Goddammit Jack, lemme go! I’m gonna fucking kill that skinny old sonofabitch…!”

 

            Customers standing, waiting in the lobby were staring. The Maitre de raised his eyebrow and reached for a phone. Jack shook Rob, making his head pound.

 

            “The hell you are.” He shook Rob again, glancing at the sloshing bottle clutched in Rob’s sweating hand. “Look at you, you dipshit. You’re so drunk you can barely stand up.”

 

            “Fuck you.”

 

            “Now that’s the Robster I know.” Jack grinned and guided him gently back to the door, nodding casually at a hostess. “Sorry everybody.” Jack tried a goofy grin, hoping he could diffuse the situation. “Just a little ruckus between us lawyers. You know how crazy we get at parties.” He dropped his voice and whispered in Rob’s ear. “C’mon man. You don’t want to do this. Don’t cause a fucking scene here. Go home and sleep it off.”

 

            Rob spun around and tried to push past him.

 

            “Hey!”

 

            “Fucker!” He shouted into the restaurant. “I’ll kill you, you fucker!”

 

“Knock it off!”  Jack manhandled Rob out the door and practically carried him halfway down the block before letting him go and stepping back. “Just go home and go to sleep. Everything’ll look better in the morning. Okay, buddy? Seriously.”

 

            “They fucking fired me, Jack. They fired me. He did it, ‘cause…because she’s sleeping with the sonofabitch, and….”

 

            “Shit. I know. I know.” Jack pushed open the glass doors and gently pulled Rob outside. He straightened Rob up and shook his head. “Go home, Rob. You don’t want any trouble, do you? You know what’ll happen if old man Smith see’s you here.”

 

            “Fuck.” Rob groped in his pocket for his car keys. “Fine. Fine.”

 

            “Shit. You didn’t drive here like this, did you?”

 

            “What the fuck do you think?”

 

            “Here, give me those.” Jack snatched the key ring out of Rob’s hand, pulled off the keys to the car and handed the others back. “Jesus, Rob. I’m not going to let you drive home like that. Here. I’ll drive your car over to your place later. Now, call a cab and go-fucking-home.”

 

            Rob glared at Jack for a second, then shrugged and took a messy swig from his bottle. Whisky ran down his chin, soaking the front of his suit.

 

“Arrrh!” he grunted, grimacing like a pirate as the fiery liquid poured down his throat.

 

            Jack watched him stumble across the street, tossing the car keys in his hand. After Rob melted into rush-hour crowd, he pocketed them, then adjusted his tie and rolled his neck. A second later, someone altogether different drifted after Rob like a ghost.

 

***

 

            Rob staggered back across the street and leaned against the brick wall of a hotel, drinking. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and decided he needed to take a piss. He groped his way into an alley behind the building, feeling suddenly like one of the bums he and Jack used to flick pennies at.

 

He belched and set the bottle precariously on the edge of an open dumpster. He unzipped his trousers, spread his legs and braced himself with his forearm on the grimy wall. Rob hummed to himself while he pulled out his dick, wiggled his ass around a bit to get the old juice flowing, and sent a warm, steaming jet of urine splattering onto the filthy pavement.

 

            “Well, well. Look at you, my friend.”

 

            Rob jumped, startled, the last drops of piss soaking his foot. A tall, well-dressed man stood at the mouth of the alley, blocking his view of the street. Underneath a shock of black hair, the man’s eyes seemed to glow a deep, fiery red.

 

            “That was quite a spectacle, back there.”

           

            “Holy shit!” Rob blinked. He grabbed for the bottle of whiskey and held it if front of him, like a club. The last of the booze ran down his arm. “Who the fuck are you?”

 

            The man just stood there, staring at Rob with his head cocked to one side, a snide little grin twitching at the edges of his mouth.

 

            “That’s perfectly good Jack you’re wasting, Rob. We could be drinking that.”

 

            “I said, who the fuck are you?” Rob shook the bottle menacingly at the stranger. “…And…and how the hell do you know my name?”

 

            The man stepped closer. His teeth flashed white, and his eyes burned against his dark face.

 

            “I know quite a bit about you Rob. I know what happened to you at work today; why you’re standing here now in a filthy alley, pissing on your foot, instead of across the street, in the bar, celebrating your promotion with your friend, Jack. As for me? Well.” He spread his hands, and the grin widened. “I ‘m the man that can make your dreams come true.”

 

            “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

 

            The smile grew even wider, until Rob couldn’t seem to focus on anything else. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, until all he could see was the smile, and the man’s eyes…

 

            “Why don’t I let you buy us a few rounds, Rob, and we’ll talk.” The man stood to the side and extended his arm. “How does that sound?”

           

            “You’re fucking kidding.”

 

            The man’s head tipped further to the side. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

 

            “You a homo?”

 

            “Now, please. Were all adults here, Rob. Was that supposed to be an insult?”

 

            “Huh?”

 

            “Oh, bloody hell. How did you ever graduate law school if you can’t answer a simple question? No wonder they fired you.”

 

            “Fuck you.”

 

            “Now, now, Rob.” The man sighed. “Are you a homo?”

 

            “Shit. You’re not a fag, you’re English.”

 

            “Ah. My accent. No, I’m not from that hellishly damp little island.” The man smiled his crazy smile again. “Well, that’s close enough for shits and giggles. Now, how about that drink, my friend? You can tell me your troubles. Perhaps afterwards there will be something I can do to repay my debt.”

 

            “Thought you said ‘drinks’.”

 

            “Oh, quite right. I did.” The man grinned about that, too. “Yes, drinks. Plural. Many. More than one. Several, in fact.”

 

            Rob tried to think his way through his drunken haze. What the hell, he decided, and tossed the empty bottle toward the dumpster. It shattered in a spray of glass. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

 

            “That’s my boy.” The man grinned and wrapped a long, thin arm around Rob’s round shoulders. “Let’s spare no expense!” He paused and sniffed. “Hm. I forgot about the urine. Well. Perhaps we can find a less reputable establishment that won’t mind the bloody awful smell.” He waved theatrically. “Now, let’s be off!”

 

***

 

Thursday, 6:45 am

 

            Vanden Smith checked his teeth in the mirror, licking the tip of one sparkling incisor with his tongue. He tightened the knot in his tie and stepped back, taking stock.

 

            Perfect.

 

As always.

 

            He turned and stepped back into the bedroom. Yvonne was still asleep, snuggled into the messy covers. Vanden stood over her for a moment, admiring her soft curves, the sleek muscles under her nut brown skin, the luxuriant mass of glossy brown hair strewn wildly about the pillows. Her hair was so dark; it looked almost black in the morning sunlight streaming through the open windows.

 

            What a lovely way to spend the last week, getting to know that body. And what did it cost him? A pittance. Barely. He was sure she believed the gifts to be extravagant, and who was he to dissuade her? Let her go on thinking she was…special.

 

            In return for his favors, she might actually do better work.

 

One of her feet stuck out of the bottom of a tangled sheet. He bent and tickled the bottom, until she flinched and mumbled something incomprehensible into the pillows.

 

“It’s getting late. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you, sweetheart. Time to get up.”

 

“Mmmn.” She sighed, and flipped over.

 

The sheets slipped down, exposing her exquisite breasts, her flat, muscular belly. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him close.

 

“Ohh, don’t go.” She touched his face with the tips of her fingers. “Why don’t you come back to bed? We could…”

 

“Sorry dear,” Vanden smiled and kissed her. “The limosine will be here any moment, and I can’t miss my flight.”

 

“Hmph.” She pouted.

 

He kissed her again, ran his hand lightly over her shoulder and squeezed one of those lovely breasts, until her hard, rubbery nipple poked his palm. Then he backed up, slipped out of her grip, and shrugged into his suit jacket.

 

“I must go.”

 

Yvonne gathered a sheet, wrapping it around her like a toga. She followed him into the front room, tossing her hair back, raking her fingers through it like a makeshift comb. Her feet sank into the thick carpet. He grabbed his briefcase and opened the door. She gazed up at him, looking again into those amazing eyes.

 

“When will we…”

 

He kissed her, cutting her off. Then he caressed her chin.

 

“Checkout time is noon, but you don’t want to be late for work.”

 

He smiled, and ducked out of the door.

 

***

 

Thursday, 7:31 am

 

The limo pulled into the terminal, and Vanden Smith waited until the driver opened his door before stepping out onto the curb. His luggage was already scooting to the baggage area. He pulled a twenty from the clip of bills he carried in his pocket and handed it to the driver, who nodded his thanks.

 

Vanden smoothed his jacket, and walked into the airport, briefcase in hand. He was in a good mood, until he reached the loading dock for his private plane, only to discover that his pilot was late.

 

“This is unacceptable.”

 

The fat cow of an attendant smiled up at him with an apologetic look that Vanden supposed was supposed to placate him. Perhaps smooth things over.

 

“I’m sorry sir. He phoned in. There was an accident on the freeway, something about a chemical spill, and he could be another hour or so.”

 

Vanden tried turning on the vaunted Smith charm.

 

“And you don’t have any other flights I could sneak in on?”

 

“Well, let me see…” The attendant blushed and checked her computer screen. She typed a bit, then paused and said, “There’s only one other flight this morning…” She shot a sideways glance at Vanden. “…with anything available in first class. But that flight won’t leave until eleven-thirty.”

 

Vanden swore to himself, but managed to keep the smile plastered in place.

 

“That’s all?”

 

“Mmn. Well, there’s a flight leaving at ten. I’ve got plenty left in coach, but there’s a two-hour layover in Denver.”

 

Vanden tried hard not to scream.

 

“So it would still be faster to…wait for my pilot to arrive.”

 

 “Yes, sir.” She nodded. “Probably.”

 

“Well. I suppose there’s nothing to do but get comfortable, is there?”

 

***

 

            Vanden grumbled about the help all the way to the bathroom.

 

            Somehow he found an empty stall without either a puddle of piss on the floor or a stinking load left by the last asshole who couldn’t be bothered to flush the toilet. He hung his briefcase on the coat hanger screwed into the back of the door and did his business.

 

            While he was shaking the last drips from his dick, Vanden heard someone else enter the bathroom and start checking the stalls. Someone whistling, doors opening and closing. He resisted the urge to check and make sure he’d locked the door to his stall.

 

The footsteps stopped a couple doors down, but the whistling continued, joined a second later by the unmistakable sound of a man urinating.

 

            Vanden sniffed. Using a public restroom…

 

            How pedestrian.

 

            But, he reflected, situations like this kept one humble. Just another reminder of how everyone puts their pants on one leg at a time. As his father used to say, you can’t lose touch with the average man.

 

            Feeling better about his latest contact with the rabble, Vanden flushed and made his way out of the stall to the row of sinks along the mirrored wall opposite. He set his briefcase on the driest part of the counter and turned on the faucet.

 

            The annoying whistling continued from the stall behind him as he bent to wash his hands. Vanden turned the water on as hot as it would go and lathered up – you could never be too careful. Places like this were absolute breeding grounds for germs – and rinsed.

 

            He glanced up as the stall door opened, and did a double take, staring into the mirror when he recognized the man emerging from the toilet.

 

            “You?”

 

            The man grinned, and ran a chubby hand through his thinning hair.

 

            “What the hell are you doing here? Are you following me?”

 

            The man casually stepped up behind Vanden, pulling something from the back pocket of his trousers.

 

            A new leather wallet fell to the floor, unnoticed.

 

            Vanden Smith turned to confront the newcomer, soapy water dripping from his hands.

 

            “I could have you arrested, you know that…”

 

            The man lunged, shoving Vanden against the counter. Fingers knotted in his steel grey hair and yanked his head back, exposing his neck. Vanden brought his hands up, but before he could react, a small blade flicked open and flashed through the air, once, twice.

 

Dark blood sprayed the mirrors, the walls.

 

The man’s face was serene, almost inquisitive. He held Vanden up with an iron grip as he struggled. Vanden tried fight, but the other man seemed inhumanly strong and held him still; he tried to speak, to call out for help, but a clot of bloody mucus gurgled in his throat, dribbled from his open mouth, drowning his screams. The other man grinned, and his eyes seemed to glow with an inhuman light.

 

And then his face melted away.

 

            Vanden dropped to the floor in a widening pool of blood, twitching and gasping. He pawed ineffectually at the knife embedded in his neck, his feet kicking at the slick tile floor.

 

            The other man watched him die, grinning with the pleasure of the hunt.

 

            The other man casually straightened his tie in the mirror as Vanden Smith’s life slowly ebbed away. He picked up the briefcase from the counter and stepped back out into the terminal, blending into the crowd, until he came to the escalator that would take him down two levels to the baggage area.

 

He dropped the briefcase on a partially full luggage rack, and left the confines of the airport without a backwards glance as the first shouts rang out from a restroom two levels up.

 

A few moments later, in the short term parking lot, a new Lexus roared to life. At the pay booths, someone who looked quite a bit like Jack Anderson handed the attendant a crisp twenty dollar bill along with a parking ticket.

 

The attendant counted back the change and raised the cross bar. The man who was now Jack Kennedy grinned and gunned the Lexus out onto the freeway. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

 

He had one other errand. And then his part of the bargain would be just about finished. He thought about all the fun things he had planned for Yvonne Craig.

 

But that would wait for later.

 

He cracked open a bottle of whiskey that Rob had left in his car, sipped.

 

He was in no hurry. He had all the time in the world.

 

***

 

Thursday, 10:41 am

           

Pounding.

 

            Loud, intolerable, insistent pounding woke Rob up.

 

            “Dammit, I’m coming!”

 

He groaned and peeled himself, still fully dressed, off the carpet of his living room floor. He carefully pushed himself up to a kneeling position, and when the room stopped spinning, he peeked out of crusted eyelids to find sunlight streaming through his picture window, along with the ugly, bearded face of a delivery man, shouting something garbled and smacking his fist on the window, over and over.

 

“Jesus.” He smacked his lips. His mouth tasted like something small and furry died a nasty death in it, sometime the week before.

 

Rob lurched to his feet and stumbled to the door, yanked it open to find a truck idling at the curb, and a large wooden crate balanced on the lip of a hand truck standing in his otherwise empty driveway. Rob wondered what the hell happened to his car while the delivery guy took his own sweet time walking up the steps.

 

“What’s going on?” Rob asked.

 

The delivery guy thrust a clipboard and a pen into Rob’s hands.

 

“Robert Wiltsey?”

 

“Yeah. That’s me.”

 

“Got somethin’ for ya.”

 

Rob stared at the guy, then down at the crate.

 

“What the hell is it?”

 

“I dunno. It’s for you. You don’t know what it is?”

 

“No, I don’t know what it is.”

 

The guy looked down at the crate.

 

“Looks kinda like a coffin.”

 

It sure does, Rob thought. “I don’t want that thing.”

 

“You didn’t order it?”

 

“What? No, I didn’t order it. I just said I didn’t know what it is…”

 

“Well, okay. Folks get stuff from family and like that all the time.” The delivery guy spat a green wad of tobacco juice onto the stoop and nodded at the clipboard. “Mind signin’ the delivery invoice for me?”

 

“I just told you I don’t want it.”

 

The guy shrugged. “I can’t take it back. There’s no return address.”

 

“You’re kidding me. I…ah, shit. Nevermind. Here.”

 

The delivery guy watched Rob scribble his name on the carbon paper.

 

“What if it is a coffin?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I mean, there could be a dead body in there, couldn’t there?”

 

Rob made a face. “I don’t think so.”

 

“Oh. Really?”

 

Rob frowned at him. “Really.”

 

“Oh. Okay. Hey, y’know, I thought you were dead for a second there, lyin’ there on the floor like that. You look like shit, man.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’ve felt better.”

 

“Tie one on last night?”

 

Rob handed back the clipboard and grimaced, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. Bits and pieces of the previous evening were beginning to come back.

 

“Oh, yeah. I guess you could say that.”

 

“Right on. Oh, hey. Almost forgot. This goes with the crate.” He handed Rob a small manila envelope, then stuck his thumb back over his shoulder. “Maybe it’ll tell ya what’s inside that thing. Where do you want it?”

 

Rob sighed. “I guess you can bring it inside.”

 

“Mind helpin’ me drag it up these steps?”

 

“Now you are kidding, right?”

 

“It’s a heavy sum’bitch. Barely got it outta the truck.” He peered around Rob, into the house. “Hey, don’cha have any furniture in there?”

 

***

 

            Twenty sweaty minutes later, the delivery guy handed Rob a copy of the invoice and drove off. Rob stared at the crate propped up against his fireplace mantle and ran his hand through his thinning hair. He grinned ruefully.

 

            Bald and unemployed at thirty. Great.

He glanced around at his otherwise empty house.

 

I think I need a drink.

 

Rob shuffled into the kitchen and looked around in the fridge for a beer.

 

“C’mere, come to daddy…”

 

He found the remains of a six pack buried on the bottom shelf behind some leftover pizza. He popped one open and slugged half, dribbling foam down his shirt. He burped heartily and sighed, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket.

 

            “Damn, that’s tasty,” he said to no one in particular, and took another gulp before digging through a junk drawer where he kept the few tools he owned, hunting down a hammer. “Where are you, you fucker…c’mon…there you are…”

 

            Rob yanked the hammer out of the drawer and grabbed the last can of beer, dropping the empty on his counter along with all the crap he’d pulled out of the drawer. He cracked the new beer and shambled unsteadily back into the living room, drinking as he went. He stopped in front of the crate.

 

            “Now, let’s see what the hell you are.”

 

He set the can on the fireplace mantle and picked up the manila envelope. He sliced open a good chunk of his thumb as he slid it through the flap.

 

“Ow! Sonofabitch!”

 

He sucked at the blood dripping down his thumb and pulled out a single sheet of yellowing parchment. The paper looked ages-old, worn and delicate as fine lace. at first glance the paper looked clean, void of any writing. Rob turned it over, smearing it with a bloody thumbprint, and held it up to the light.

 

“What the hell…”

 

He could barely make out a few words, a note scrawled in the middle of the page in a spidery script that read, simply, “A small gift between friends. Thanks for the drinks.”

 

Rob dropped the paper with a confused shake of his head. He took off his ruined suit jacket and dropped it on the floor.

 

“Well, that’s for shit.”

 

He stripped down to his t-shirt and took another drink, then swung the hammer. The spikes chunked into the side of the crate, and he started prying at the boards. Long nails squealed in protest as they pulled loose from the rough planks.

 

“Huh.” Rob grunted as the crate’s lid pulled away.

 

Another box. But this…this was different.

 

It was a case made of some smooth, black wood; highly polished to a shine that reflected his haggard face, his stained and rumpled clothes. A small, chipped emblem made of pure white marble decorated the top half of the box.

 

The delivery guys’ voice seemed to float back.

 

Looks a lot like a coffin…

 

“No fucking way. Jesus. You can’t ship somebody a dead body. No. Uh-uh. Nope.”

 

Suddenly feeling strangely paranoid, Rob carefully reached into the crate and pulled, but the box inside didn’t budge.

 

“C’mon, damn it. Get out of there.”

 

Rob rocked the crate back and forth, grunting with the effort. The box inside tipped out, and it took all Rob’s strength to keep it from crashing to the floor. Somehow he managed to lever it to the ground. He stood over the gleaming casket with his legs spread, sweaty and panting, wishing he had more beer.

 

“That guy was right.” He whistled between his teeth. “It’s a fucking coffin.”

 

The box was about six feet long and three feet wide. It was hinged on one side with a sleek latch on the other, and it was definitely deep enough to put a body in.

 

“Unbelievable.”

 

Rob tried the latch, but he couldn’t seem to find the catch. It was a smooth, silvery metal plate set flush into the wood, with a small, oval groove in the middle. He pulled and prodded and swore at it, but nothing happened.

 

He picked up the parchment again, wondering if he’d missed part of the note.

 

“This can’t be that hard to figure out. I…Holy shit.”

 

The parchment was completely blank. Rob flipped the paper over in his hands again and again, wondering if he was still passed out drunk, dreaming all this. Then the cut along the side of his thumb throbbed painfully, and he remembered something his mom showed him how to do as a kid, a simple trick with paper, water and lemons.

 

“Invisible ink,” He grinned. “Must be. This is some corny shit.”

 

He tossed the paper aside again and leaned closer, studying the lock. He rubbed the chunk of metal. It felt almost…warm. And the groove…

 

He ran his bloody thumb along the groove, and pressed.

 

The latch clicked open…

 

“Huh.”

 

…and the lid swung out, slowly…

 

“Holy shit!”

 

Rob scuttled backwards on all fours until his back smacked into the wall. He sat, trembling, unable to take his eyes of the slim body nestled inside.

 

***

 

So she was sleeping with you?

Well, no, but we had drinks a couple times.

Ah. I see. And you didn’t know she was screwing your boss?

Not till today.

And she was fucking him to get the promotion you wanted?

Guess so.

And then she got you fired.

Rob sighed, shrugged.

Huh. Well, Rob, my friend. I’ll hand it to you. You got royally fucked. Just not the way you would’ve liked.

You can say that again.

The Big Bang.

Uh-huh.

But you didn’t even manage to get your dick wet.

Fuck you.

The dark man grinned.

 

Touched a nerve there, did I? Rob, did you know that pussy can make a normal, sane man crazy? Absolutely, completely, certifiably mental.

Yeah. Rob swirled a finger in the spilled beer, drawing wet circles on the tabletop. I think I’m figuring that out.

It’s all about control. You see?

Uh-huh.

Your situation is just one example.

One?

Mm.

What’s another?

 

The man leaned forward intently, warming up to his subject.

I can think of many examples of the war between the sexes to illustrate my point. Rape is a perfect example. Extreme, I admit, but still…

Rob peered at the man over the rim of his mug.

 

Rape? What the hell do you mean?

It’s the act of control, Rob. Rape is violent and disturbing, perhaps, but that’s all in one’s point of view, isn’t it? And where exactly does the act of rape stem from?

Control.

Exactly.

How do you figure that?

The dark man spread his hands and smiled benignly. Without going into much detail, I simply have some…practical experience regarding the subject, enough to make an observation.

‘Practical experience’? Oh, my God! You mean... you’ve actually raped someone?

The dark man grinned and drained his mug. He slammed the empty glass onto the table and wiped foam from his mustache with the tips of slender fingers.

Let’s just say that I am something of an admirer of human nature. Someone who appreciates and…well, occasionally indulges the more…base impulses.  The dark man leaned even closer. His eyes seemed to burn into Rob’s skull. How are you feeling?

What, about this fucked up conversation?

No, no…about what happened this morning. And since.

I’m pissed off. What d’you think? I mean, I lost my job because I thought I was doing the right thing for a client, and then I found out that it didn’t matter anyway, because I don’t have tits and a pussy.

Rob dropped his head into his hands. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, ran his fingers through his thinning hair. The dark man shifted in his seat, studying him intently.

So Rob, what do you want?

 

I don’t know. Rob whined miserably.

 

The dark man waved his empty mug at the waitress standing across the room at the bar. The waitress nodded and grabbed an empty, frosty pitcher and stuck it under a tap.

 

Her, perhaps? Our waitress? She’s quite attractive. What if you could grab her here, right now, and bend her over this table? Would you take her?

What are you, sick or something? Jesus. Is everything about pussy?

This is purely a hypothetical question, Rob.

You mean would I fuck her, or are you asking me if I’d rape her?

Let’s say rape. What if you could get away with it, without any sort of punishment? Would you attempt it? Would you enjoy it?

I don’t know. Sorry, but I don’t go around thinking, ‘Hey, she’s hot. Maybe I’ll put on a mask and break into her apartment later’.

But you admit that she’s quite attractive.

Rob considered the girl. She caught them staring and grinned.

Yeah, sure, but…

And if there is no punishment, no guilt, the act is one and the same, is it not?

The hell it is! Not if she doesn’t want it. Not if she gets hurt.

For some people, that’s simply a turn on. Do you realize how many women fantasize about being attacked? Even when, outwardly, a woman would say all the right things about the subject, all the appropriate things; but when they’re alone, needing release, their mind turns to the stock boy they glimpsed at the grocery store, or the delivery man, or the gardener. The repressed desires come to the fore…

 

The muscles in Rob’s jaw clenched and popped as the pretty redhead brought them another pitcher of beer.

 

Here you go boys. She took the time to fill both of their mugs; then sat the pitcher down on the table between them. Drink up.

Rob fumbled for his wallet. He couldn’t seem to get his fingers to work right. The dark man reached across the table.

 

Here. Let me.

He took Rob’s wallet, picked out a few bills and handed them to the waitress with a flourish.

 

Thank you, my dear. The dark man smiled up at her, catching her eye with his and touching her gently on the arm before she turned to go. Thank you so much.

Oh, for you two, anytime.

The dark man chuckled as she floated away, blushing, glancing back at him over her shoulder with dreamy eyes. He set Rob’s wallet down on the table, by his mug. Rob was staring at the girl’s ass, swaying a little in his chair.

 

You see? Such a simple thing, to get their attention. Just a word, or a caress, and they’re smitten, like a school girl with her first crush.  He glanced over at Rob out of the corner of his eye. You are attracted to her, aren’t you?

A statement, not a question.

 

Admit it Rob. It’s not a sin to desire someone.

Rob stared at the table, embarrassed.

 

Yeah. Sure. Of course. She’s beautiful.

 

I absolutely love redheads, myself – true redheads, that is. They’re born with a fiery nature.  The dark man took a sip of beer and sighed gratefully. Think about it Rob. Would you like to hike that little skirt up over that nice, round ass and rip off her panties? Can you imagine what her panties look like, Rob? What they feel like? What about her pussy?

The girl caught Rob staring again and smiled at him. Rob felt something inside him stir, something deep and primal. His eyes flickered and his breath caught in his chest as the dark man continued…

Would it be shaven as smooth as a child’s, warm and wet to the touch? Or do you think she has a nice, full bush of that fine, curly red hair? Would you like to rip open her blouse while you had her, or would you leave it on? Would you be gentle while you ride her, or would you take her pussy and fuck her like a man?

Shut up.

I’ll ask the question again: Rob, would you fuck her?

Rob glanced at the waitress again, feeling his cock throbbing in his pants. His voice was husky, lowered almost to a whisper when he answered, as if she could hear him from across the noisy room.

Hell yeah. Wouldn’t you?

The man sat back with a smug look and drank deeply from his full mug.

 

So. He smacked his lips. The truth wins out. You would fuck her.

Yeah. Yeah, you bet.

Now, would you rape her? Remember, there is no guilt, no punishment. Only the sweet release of those primal desires; the total pleasure one achieves by taking absolute control over another human being. No one is judging you here, my friend.

Rob blinked quickly, and took a drink to hide his embarrassment. He scratched the back of his neck and stared at the waitress as she bent over to clean an empty booth. Her skirt pulled up and he could just see the bottom of her ass cheeks, just make out her lacy white panties. Her breasts jiggled and bounced in her work shirt as she wiped down the table top.

Just like that?

The dark man nodded. Rob licked his lips. His throat was dry and scratchy, and something he’d never felt before was burning, deep in his gut.

 

Yeah. Okay. Yeah. I would.

Excellent, Rob!

 

The dark man grinned and rolled his head around, loudly popping the bones in his neck.

Ahh, that feels good. So. What is it that you want, Rob?

What do I want right now?

Mm-hmm.

Rob was quiet a moment. He took a long drink, savored it, thinking. Then he looked up again, and for the first time that night, he was able to meet those burning coals staring out at him from that grinning face.

What I keep thinking? You really want to know what’s been running through my head all day long?

Yes.

This is so fucked up.

Tell me, Rob. I can’t help you if you won’t be honest and tell me what you truly want.

I really wanted to screw Yvonne. My friend Jack – he worked with me at the firm – he and I used to bullshit about it all the time. I guess I still do.

A hate fuck. Revenge.

Yeah, I guess that fits. But right now, I almost wish they were dead.

‘Almost’, Rob?

 

***

Thursday, 11:32 am

 

“Omigod.”

 

Rob wasn’t sure how long he sat like that, with his back plastered against the wall, sweating, staring and gasping for breath.

 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God…”

 

He stared in horror at the girl in the box. Little bits and pieces of the night before were slowly coming back. He remembered the man with the burning eyes that seemed to pierce right into the back of his head, and their conversation about the waitress…

 

“Nononono…oh God, don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead…”

 

It was that fucked up guy at the bar. It had to be. He fucking kidnapped her and killed her, and... And packed her up and sent her here like some kind of sick birthday present…

 

Rob gathered his legs underneath him and crawled forward slowly. He reached out a shaking hand and gently touched her face, expecting…what, exactly? He’d never touched a dead body before, never even seen one; he only knew what he’d seen on TV, and in movies. If she was dead, she’d be cold, right? Like something in a freezer?

 

No, not like that. Cold, like a thawed steak, maybe? But, not…warm?

 

Rob jerked back his hand and held it like he’d been scalded. His breath hissed through his teeth.

 

Omigod.

He looked closer; saw the slow but steady rise and fall of her chest.

She’s alive! But what’s wrong with her? Why didn’t she suffocate?

Rob licked his lips, shook her a little. Her eyelids fluttered, but barely; hardly enough for Rob to even notice.

 

Drugs. He must’ve drugged her, with something that slowed her breathing down enough that she wouldn’t use up all the oxygen in the coffin.

 

The girl was still wearing the same clothes she had on the night before, at the bar.

 

What do I do? What…The police, I’ll call the police! And, and…and what? Tell them I’ve got a coffin in my living room, with a drugged girl that some freak with…with glowing red eyes kidnapped and sent to me because…because…

Why?

 

Rob groaned and dug at his swollen eyes with the heels of his palms.

 

Because I told him that I wanted to fuck her. That’s why.

Rob sat back on his haunches, shaking his head.

 

I wonder if anybody’s missed her yet. Or if her kidnapping’s been on the news? Maybe…maybe I could call Jack? Fuck. No way. He wouldn’t believe me unless he saw her, and then he’d just tell me to call the cops.

Unconsciously, Rob peered back into the coffin, taking in the girls rosy cheeks; the wisps of soft, red curls billowing around her face; the light spray of freckles across the bridge of her button nose.

 

Or he wouldn’t believe a word I said, and he’d call the cops on me.

 

A nasty, sick thought came to him.

 

Or, maybe…he’d tell me to fuck her.

 

***

 

A small piece of paper was pinned to the girls’ blouse, just above her left breast. A message, written in the same loose, spidery script on the same, fragile parchment as the other note with the disappearing ink. It read, Hi, Rob, I’m Sarah. Pleased to meet you. I brought a few things for a sleepover.

“Jesus. What a sick motherfucker. Did he follow her home?”

 

Rob unpinned the note and crumpled it up in his hand, tossed the ball into his empty fireplace. The girl fit perfectly in the coffin, with room to spare. Inside, Rob found a large knapsack stuffed under her feet. He gently raised her legs and pulled it out, then unlaced the flap and opened it up.

 

Maybe she has a purse in here, Rob thought, or a drivers license, or something with a phone number…

 

Rob reached inside and pulled out a fistful of lingerie: bras and panties and stockings… He swallowed and reached in again, found more clothes, rolled up skirts and nice, silk blouses, shoes, jewelry…

 

“Oh, God.”

 

Rob sat back, the contents of the bag spilled around him. Enough clothes and makeup to play dress-up for a week or more, but no identification. He stood up slowly, his knees cracking, and peered down into the coffin at the girl.

 

“I’m sorry, uh, Sarah. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just wanted to get drunk last night, and talk to somebody…”

 

Here in the daylight, Rob was struck by how beautiful she really was. And she looked so…peaceful, like she was sleeping. He, on the other hand, was hung-over as hell with a monster of a headache brewing, and his mind was reeling. Rob thought about the police again, what he could tell them that wouldn’t land him in prison.

 

“Maybe…maybe I can wake you up. Sure! Then you can tell me what happened.” He snapped his fingers. “Simple! We can call the police together, and we’ll tell ‘em about the sick-o freak. There’s no way they’d just believe me, but you saw him too.”

 

Rob sighed with relief.

 

“Well, I can’t leave you in this thing.” He bent over and slipped his arms under her waist and the crook of her legs, then straightened with a grunt.

 

“Oh, shit!’

 

Lifting somebody who was out cold wasn’t as easy as it looked in the movies. But then, usually in the movies the guy doing the lifting was some buff, studly hero-type, not the chubby, balding, out-of-shape attorney type.

 

Well, Rob thought, make that the ex-attorney type.

 

The girl was limp and her arms and legs were flopping all over; he couldn’t get a good grip and she slipped right out of his arms.

 

“C’mon, baby, c’mere…”

 

Rob pulled her closer, so his chin bumped into her chest. He took a long, deep breath and caught a faint whiff of her perfume, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol and food on her clothes, in her hair. He hoped she couldn’t smell him. He tried and failed to ignore how soft she was, how nice her curves felt against him. Then he counted to three and straightened with a grunt.

 

“Ooh, God!”

 

 A sharp spear of pain shot up his back.

 

“Urg. Wow. That hurts. Uh, sorry…Sarah…it’s not you. I’m just a little out of shape.”

 

For a second Rob wished that he’d bothered to visit the company gym once or twice, or even taken Jack up on his endless offers for racquetball lessons. His thoughts drifted back to his father again, forcing him to carry wood on their infrequent camping trips when he was an even shorter, pudgier kid.

 

Come on, you little pussy! Be a man! You’re stronger than that!

Rob locked his knees and staggered into his bedroom, the one, partially furnished room in his house, with Sarah’s limp body clutched tightly to his chest, her arms and legs dangling loosely. He lost his footing in a pile of laundry and tumbled with her onto his unmade bed. He scrambled off her like she was on fire and fell into a chair.

 

There pussy-boy! I told you you could do it!

“Shut up, dad!” Rob shook his head and flipped on his television. He scanned the channels with his remote, and didn’t find a single news bulletin about the girl. He shut off the TV in disgust. He stood and stepped to the side of his bed.

 

Sarah was sprawled out on the mattress with her torso twisted to one side and her arms and legs bent at odd angles; her long, curly hair billowed out underneath her head. The top of her blouse had become unbuttoned, just enough for him to catch a tantalizing glimpse of a black satin bra and the round flesh at the top of her breasts. The hem of her skirt had slipped up around her hips, giving him full view of her panties – the white, lacy panties he’d been fantasizing about just hours ago at the bar.

 

Cold sweat beaded along his upper lip, and began trickling down his back.

 

Rob couldn’t look. He told himself not to, that he had to be a gentleman. But he couldn’t not look. He reached down to straighten her skirt, and his hand brushed the soft skin of her thigh. He felt a sudden pang of desire, that burning in his gut that seemed to spread through his whole body, and jerked his hand away.

 

“Um, Sarah?” He whispered to her, softly, as if she was sleeping. He nudged her shoulder. “Sarah? Are you awake?”

 

No answer. No movement. Rob nudged her again, gently rocking her body.

 

“Sarah? Is that your name? Sarah?”

 

Rob sat down next to her. The mattress creaked under his weight, and she slid into him. He sighed with frustration, and absently touched her hair.

 

“Maybe I could call the bar, and ask them who you are, or…” He shook his head. “No. That won’t work. That’ll just get somebody suspicious, and…and maybe they could trace the call with caller id…”

 

For a long minute he just sat next to her, watching her.

 

“At least you’re breathing okay, I guess.”

 

He yawned, feeling the effects of all the stress from the day before; of being fired, all of the booze, the lack of sleep. He stood, grabbed a pillow off the bed and padded over to a chair, settled in.

 

“I’ll just wait for you to wake up, then we can work this out.”

 

Rob tucked the pillow behind his head and kicked off his shoes, used his toes to peel off his damp, sweaty socks. He watched the girl for a few more minutes, feeling drowsy, until his heavy eyelids fell closed.

 

A moment later, they both slept.

 

***

 

Thursday, 7:46 pm

            Yvonne Craig slipped onto a barstool at MacTarahan’s and ordered a glass of white wine from Sammy. He served her with a flourish – she liked that about Sammy; he always had a smile for her, he always knew what she was drinking, and he never tried to hit on her.

 

Of course, it helped that he was as gay as day was long.

 

She liked coming into the bar about this time for much the same reasons. It rarely got busy until later in the evening, and most of the customers were regulars who knew to leave her alone.

 

She took a sip and started to relax.

 

            “Thanks Sammy.”

 

            “Of course, girl. Tough day?”

 

            “Mm.”

 

            “You’ve been a busy girl this week. Fire anybody else?”

 

            How did he know about that? Yvonne wondered. She took another sip before she replied.

 

            “We’ve had to do some housecleaning.”

 

            Sammy grinned knowingly and started wiping down the already immaculate bar.

 

            “Why do you ask?”

 

            “Girl, you know. I’m all about the gossip. Keeps me young.”

 

            “Sammy…”

 

One of the waitresses shouldered in next to Yvonne and tossed a ticket on the bar.

 

            “Hey, Sammy. Two more Stout’s for table three?”

 

            “You got it girl.”

 

He picked to clean glasses off a full tray and stuck them under the tap. Yvonne pursed her lips and took a drink, waited until he poured the drinks. The waitress picked up the tray and gave Yvonne a cheery grin. Yvonne managed to give something like a smile back, then turned her attention back to Sammy.

 

“So?”

 

“A short, pudgy guy was in here looking for you, just a few minutes before you came in. I think it was the same guy who threw a fit in the lobby last night.”

 

            “Really?”

 

            “Mm. He threw another tizzy. We had to have security give him the heave-ho.”

 

            Rob, she thought. Must’ve been. “I didn’t see him when I got here.”

 

            “Guess he got the hint.” Sammy leaned forward. “So, what happened to your sugar daddy?”

 

            “Will you stop? That’s all finished.” Yvonne grinned demurely and crossed her legs. Sammy knew all about her little fling.

 

            “I see. Running the office by yourself now?”

 

            “First day.” She nodded. “Vanden flew out this morning.”

 

            “That so?”

 

            “Mm-hmm.”

 

            “Did he leave satisfied?”

 

            “Will you shut up?” Yvonne laughed. It was a good, sexy laugh; nice and throaty. “Of course he did.”

 

            “Do tell?”

 

            “Ha. Let’s just say that I got to keep the car, and he had a nice limo ride to the airport.”

 

            “He gave you the Beamer?”

 

            “Mm.”

 

            “Why can’t I find a man like that?

 

            “Sometimes it helps to have a pair of these.” Yvonne pointed at her tits. “No offence.”

 

            “If that’s what it takes, I’ll start saving up.”

 

            Yvonne laughed again.

 

            Sammy grinned and glanced over her shoulder. He leaned over the counter and whispered conspiratorially, “Girl, I bet I know something you don’t know.”

 

            “Oh? What’s that?”

 

            “Give it a second…”

 

            Yvonne took another drink and half-turned in her seat. A warm hand caressed the nape of her neck, sending a chill down her spine. Yvonne shivered. Soft lips touched the tip of her ear, and her cheek. The chill turned into a warm blush.

 

            Yvonne looked up into Vanden Smith’s glittering eyes.

 

She couldn’t get enough of those eyes. They were spellbinding. It was like he could see down into her soul with each glimpse, each sideways glance.

 

            “Vanden? I thought you left…I mean…you’re supposed to be in New York tomorrow…?”

 

            “Ah, well. I do believe I’d rather be here, than twiddling my thumbs in an empty apartment in that noisy, dirty city.” He paused and grinned. “Or, rather, I’d rather be at your apartment, twiddling something else.”

 

***

 

            Asleep in his chair, Rob’s body jerked and twisted suddenly.

 

            In his dream, Rob was back at the bar, getting drunk off his ass. Sarah was at the side of the table, constantly refilling his drink, pouring more beer into his mug as fast as he could tip it back. He’d quaff a full, foaming mug, dribbling the dark amber fluid down his face and neck, into his lap, soaking himself, and then she’d clean him up, wiping his face and crotch with a filthy, wet towel that she’d stick back into the waistband of her apron.

 

The dark man was still there too; sitting just across the table, laughing a deep, maniacal laugh and pinching Sarah’s ass every time she bent over to wipe the beer from Rob’s lap. But his face was lost; shrouded in darkness, blank like voided space. The only features Rob could make out were his blazing, coal red eyes, and a long, sharp pair of ash-white horns that protruded from the top of his skull.

 

Don’t you like her ass, Rob? Don’t you want to squeeze it? Go ahead, give it a spank! Watch it jiggle!

 

Rob spilled more beer down his front, and Sarah bent to with the towel, leaning over until her breasts popped out of her blouse, jiggling in her black bra. She looked up and smiled, licked her ruby lips with the tip of a dainty pink tongue as she rubbed at the damp cloth. With his cock straining to break free, Rob drained his mug as she began tugging at his zipper.

 

Smoke drifted up from the dark man’s eyes. He ripped Sarah’s panties down around her knees and began slapping her ass until it turned a raw, glowing pink.

 

Let her clean that mess up for you, Big Fella! Wrap a hand in that beautiful red hair and let her earn her keep! Hell, there’s enough here for everybody to take a turn!

Rob ran his fingers through Sarah’s soft curls, and she went down on him, taking him down to the hilt in a single mouthful. He felt the muscles in her slim neck contract and relax as she bobbed her head, working him.

 

He slumped in his chair, enjoying the warmth of her mouth, and looked around the bar, which suddenly seemed an open, endless space. The other customers were barely visible; wavering, wraith-like shapes that stood from their tables, naked and aroused, and shambled towards Sarah, stroking their huge, erect genitals as they surrounded her.

 

That’s right, my friend, enjoy her…that’s what she’s here for…

 

Rob tried to bring them into focus, but the moist pressure enveloping his cock distracted him. He closed his eyes, and Sarah screamed as the first of the things entered her, shoving its erect, engorged member deep into her asshole.

 

The pressure in Rob’s groin began to swell, and he laid both his hands on her head, forced her mouth back down on him. She grabbed at his ass, and he grunted and his hips jerked spastically as her body was shoved forward by the thing fucking her from behind...

 

And all the while, the dark man cackled with glee…

 

***

 

Thursday, 8:46 pm

 

            For the second time that day, Rob woke with a start, drenched in sweat. The electric clock on his dresser told him it was a quarter after nine.

 

            “Oh, man…what a dream.”

 

Other than the glow from the clock, it was pitch black in the room. He had a raging headache, a throbbing boner, and he needed to piss like a racehorse. Rob groped along the wall, feeling his way to the bathroom. He unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor, then braced himself with his hands on the wall, leaning over his toilet, urine just barely trickling out of his swollen penis.

 

“C’mon,” He urged. “Go, go, goddamn…fucking sleep-boner…”

 

Rob managed not to fall asleep again, standing up like that, or piss on his foot (which he thought was a major accomplishment). Several minutes later, he shook himself dry. He washed his hands and stared at himself in the mirror over the sink.

 

God, he looked terrible.

 

He scrubbed his face with cold water, filled up a cup and scrounged through his medicine cabinet until he found a couple aspirin. At least, he thought they were aspirin. He wasn’t sure. It didn’t really matter, the way his head felt like it was going to split down the middle.

 

“Fuck it. If they kill me, at least the headache’ll go away.”

 

He took the chance, gulped the pills down and drained the water, then turned out the light. He padded back into his bedroom in his baggy boxers and t-shirt and crawled onto his bed. When he felt the warm body on the mattress next to him, he almost jumped out of his skin.

 

“Holy shit!”

 

Rob flipped on the lamp. A soft glow filled the room, illuminating Sarah’s soft, curvy body. He squeezed his eyes shut; counted to ten and blinked them open. This was no dream. No fantasy. The girl was still there, on his bed. She was still out cold, lying in the same, sprawled out position she was in when he passed out that afternoon.

 

Why wasn’t she awake yet? What the hell was she on? That date rape drug? What was it…Ecstasy? Hell, he’d imbibed half the beer and whiskey in the state during his little binge, and he’d been awake twice already…

 

Hungover, yeah, sure, but awake.

 

Rob reached over and shook her by the shoulder, hard.

 

“Sarah! Hey! Wake up!”

 

He shouted her name again and shook her, over and over.

 

Nothing.

 

Not even the flicker of an eyelid. Just the slow, peaceful rise and fall of her chest. Her skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat; her flesh was warm and moist under his fingertips. He pulled her shoulder, turned her over onto her back.

 

“Come on, please wake up.”

 

She was so pretty. Lying there, so close to her, his body began to tingle. The burning sensation started in his crotch and spread outwards. His cock perked back up, sticking straight out of his underpants. Snatches of a conversation floated back into his mind, unbidden.

 

You mean, would I fuck her, or are you asking me if I’d rape her?

Let’s say rape. What if you could get away with it, without any sort of punishment? Would you attempt it? Would you enjoy it?

“Oh, God. What am I thinking?”

 

Admit it Rob. It’s not a sin to desire someone…

Rob licked his lips and scooted closer, thinking that he just wanted to look at her. The hem of her skirt was still pulled up around her waist, and the tip of his cock brushed her hip, grazing lightly along the soft skin of her thigh. A shiver ran through him.

 

That’s right, my friend, enjoy her…that’s what she’s here for…

 

His hand was shaking as he reached out to pull down her skirt.

 

Don’t you like her ass, Rob? Don’t you want to squeeze it? Go ahead, give it a spank! Watch it jiggle!

 

Rob was panting; sweat beading on his forehead and his cock throbbed painfully, his whole body shaking. The ugly voice continued in his thoughts, goading him on.

 

She’ll never know…

Rob swallowed hard, the spit sticking in his throat. He touched her belly, watched his hand slide slowly up her stomach to her breasts. He cupped the breast closest to him, squeezed it gently, and watched the girls face for the faintest sign that she might notice, that she might wake up and start screaming, RAPE, RAPE!

 

But she was quiet.

 

Her back seemed to arch a bit, mashing her tit into his hand. Rob reached across her chest, letting his cock press flat against her thigh, and squeezed her other breast. This time he was positive; a low moan started, from deep in her throat, and her nipple poked through the material of her blouse, rubbed against the sweaty palm of his hand.

 

“Oh, God…” he murmured, and ran his fingertips lightly over her nipples, until they were hard as little rocks. He licked his lips and rubbed his crotch against her leg. He was so horny, he felt dizzy. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I’m sorry…”

 

He unbuttoned her blouse carefully, peeling the light, damp material back and uncovering her belly. Rob licked his dry lips and drank her in. She was slim, but curvy; with pale skin splashed with a spattering of freckles. Her breasts were larger that he’d expected, pooled into round, melon-shaped mounds on her chest, tucked into her pretty black bra. Her belly button was pierced with a silver clamp and circled with an elaborate tattoo of a butterfly. More tattoos covered her upper arms.

 

He pulled the cups of her bra down, exposing her pink, pierced nipples. They reminded him of tiny, ripe strawberries. His erection throbbed again, and he felt the first bit of cum ooze out and smear along her thigh.

 

Rob leaned over and kissed the top of her chest, her breasts, tasting her, licking her nipples. The muscles in her stomach twitched when he ran his hand back down her belly, down to her crotch. He felt the soft mound of pubic hair hidden underneath the material of her lacy panties, and he cupped her gently between her legs.

 

Her panties were soaking wet, and this time, she moaned. Her neck and back arched and her hips jerked up, pushing her tit right into his mouth. His fingers twisted around the elastic band of her panties, pulling them roughly out of the way, and his fingers almost slipped right into her warm, wet pussy.  

 

“Oh, God, Oh God…”

 

Rob could hardly breathe, and his heart was racing.

 

The only thing in his mind now was that he wanted – no, had to be inside her.

 

He raised himself up so he was kneeling over her and yanked off his t-shirt. He gently pulled her panties off, slipping them down her smooth, tan legs, and threw them onto the floor. He spread her legs slowly, until they were wide enough that he could shuffle across the covers and ease himself between them.

 

“I want you so bad…” he whispered.

 

Her pussy was covered with a nice, trim bush of fine, orange-red pubic hair. He ran his hand over her pink lips, felt another, tiny ring piercing the little nub of her clit. He eased himself on top of her and let the tip of his cock find its way.

 

Another small, quiet cry came from her lips, and Rob barely registered that her arms and legs wrapped tight around his body. He sighed as he slipped fully inside her, and pillowed his head at the side of her throat.

 

He was already moving, almost unconsciously grinding his hips against her, driving himself deeper into her.

 

“Oh, my God…”

 

Her pussy clamped around his cock, massaging him. He bit her shoulder to stifle a cry of pleasure and hooked his arms under her armpits, trying to will himself even further inside her. Deliriously, he felt her hips moving in a slow circle underneath him; her belly button ring dug into the soft folds of his gut, making him grunt and swear.

 

Rob wanted to kiss her. He levered himself up onto his elbows, nipping at her neck, kissing the point of her chin. She hissed and arched her back, driving her head into the pillows. Some dim part of Rob’s mind registered pain as she raked sharp fingernails across his back, digging bloody furrows in his flesh.

 

He groaned and pressed his lips on hers. They parted with a sigh, and he felt her little tongue flick into his hot mouth, probing. He sucked at it like a sweet piece of candy, tasted a metallic tang, felt the small nub of another piercing, a barbell thrust through her tongue.

 

Deep in his groin, his orgasm began to build, and he started to pump her, fucking her hard and fast. Their kisses became rushed and frenzied, and her legs clamped around his waist, pulling him closer, until his body couldn’t hold out any longer.

 

Rob stiffened as he came, and he heard a voice through his delirium, a feminine voice, as if from far away…

 

“Fuck yeah, cum in me baby…”

 

He jerked once, twice, and shivered with pleasure; then collapsed onto her soft flesh. He lay right on top of her, drowsy and content, letting the girl hold him. She kissed and stroked his hair, whispering sweet, quiet things into his ear. Rob felt his cock grow limp inside her.

 

He vaguely wondered when it was she woke up. And why she didn’t run out of the house, screaming for the police?

 

But he was so tired, it all barely mattered.

 

As his eyes fluttered closed, Rob realized he hadn’t even bothered to take off his underpants. That little faux pas embarrassed him for a second, but then he was fading again.

 

***

Thursday, 9:10 pm

 

Half a city away, Yvonne Craig was on her hands and knees in her rumpled bed getting fucked hard from behind, doggy-style. Her clothes were torn away and Vanden Smith’s cock was buried deep in her pussy.

 

She had her hand shoved down between her legs, her fingers furiously rubbing her clit.

 

“Oh, God, I’m coming…” she moaned, and her body began to quiver.

 

His big, hairy balls slapped against her knuckles while he fucked her, and she cried out, spraying his thighs with her cum while he groped her tits. The bed was already soaked underneath her. She gasped as her orgasm ripped through her body, curling her toes. The wet spot got even larger.

 

He felt so big tonight. Huge. He completely filled her, almost to the point that it was painful when he’d started. Yvonne didn’t remember him to be quite this…vigorous before, either, but right now she was loving every sweaty minute of it.

 

“Ooooh, yeah! Fuck me, baby…c’mon…!”

 

But Vanden stopped screwing her. He pulled out of her and crawled off the bed, then rooted around on the floor for a second. When he found what he was looking for he stood back up, then flipped her over onto her back.

 

He had her stockings in one hand, and he was grinning happily.

 

“Okay,” She nodded.

 

He used her knees to lever her legs open and crawled back onto the bed, then squirmed closer to her pussy. Yvonne scooted backwards so her head was propped up on the pillows. She gripped his pulsing cock in her sweaty hand and guided him back inside her.

 

He shoved in with a grunt of satisfaction. She grabbed him by the ass and gave him a good, hard squeeze, digging her fingernails into his butt-cheeks.

 

She looked up into his eyes. He was grinning at her, sweat dripping down his face…

 

He is bigger, she thought as he leaned over her, the stockings clutched in his fist. How could that happen? One of those pump things, maybe?

She let him pin her arms over her head, and he roughly tied her wrists to the headboard. Vanden kissed her hard on the lips. Yvonne felt him give her tits another tweak, and then his hands were moving up her body, closing around her neck.

 

She moaned, arching her back with excitement.

 

Then he started to squeeze.

 

At first, it didn’t hurt. Yvonne just felt a thrill, felt that much more aroused, and she tried to smile up at him, to let him know she was okay, that she was enjoying it. She knew he liked it like this, the feeling of power it gave him.

 

He looks so, so sexy…

 

But then he put his arms and shoulders into it, and the thrill disappeared.

 

The muscles in his arms bulged, and something in her neck popped loudly. Yvonne kicked and bucked. She thrashed under him, using all of her strength, but he wouldn’t let go. She was tied too tight, and he had all the leverage.

 

He squeezed and squeezed, grinning down at her, his sweat dripping onto her face, pooling on her chest. She couldn’t get air, and his cock was hurting her now. It felt like it was swelling, getting even bigger inside her, like it was going to split her apart

 

Yvonne tried to scream, but could only manage a feeble squeak.

 

As her world went black, his fingers pressed even tighter, and the sweet, soulful brown eyes she’d loved so much changed and began to glow with a strange light of their own.

 

***

 

Friday, 11:10 am

 

Rob woke up to fresh air blowing through an open window and the chirping of birds. He snuggled deeper into his tangled sheets, but then there was something else, a sound that took him a minute to recognize.

 

            Someone was humming, singing quietly in a soft, pretty voice.

 

            Rob tried to roll over as quietly as he could, but she saw him. He stared, open-mouthed, as Sarah stepped out of the shower and used one of his towels to dry off. Puffs of steam rolled out of the open bathroom door.

 

            “’Morning, Sleepyhead.”

 

            He blinked. Once. Twice. She didn’t go away, didn’t disappear in a poof of smoke.

 

            “Um...‘morning?”

 

            She grinned and turned back to the mirror, rubbed at the condensation with the palm of her hand.

 

            “You sleep like a rock.”

 

“Um.” Rob croaked again. He stared in disbelief.

 

Her back was covered with tattoos, from her shoulders down to her ass. She wrapped her wet hair up in the towel, smiled at him through the mirror and squirted some of his toothpaste onto his toothbrush, started scrubbing. She spit and rinsed, then patted her lips with a towel hanging on the wall rack next to the mirror.

 

            “So, are you gonna get up today?”

 

            She turned on her heel and marched back into the bedroom, plopped down on the bed next to him and began rummaging through a pile of clothes.

 

            “Uh, well, yeah. I guess so.”

 

            “Cool. Hey – why don’t you have any furniture? I don’t mean to be snoopy, but I got hungry and had a bowl of cereal. There wasn’t anywhere to sit. Except on the box thing in your living room.”

 

            “I just bought the house. I work…er, worked a lot, so I usually ate at the office. The house was an investment. Furniture just didn’t seem like a big deal.”

 

            “Oh. Like, a place to crash when you’re not at work, right?” Rob nodded. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

 

            Rob laughed. It came out sounding more like a burp.

 

            “That’s what I thought. No way you could live like this if you weren’t single. You should at least get a bigger bed.”

           

            She found a clean pair of panties, a tiny blue pair about the size of Rob’s pinkie, and slipped them on, raising her legs and then lying back on the bed to pull them over her butt.

 

            “You kinda messed up the stuff in my pack. Didn’t your mom ever teach you it’s not nice to go through other people’s things?”

 

            “I, well…sorry. I…”

 

            She rolled over and scooted next to him, straddled his hips.

 

            “S’okay. Wow, hey, look at you, big boy…ready to take on the day, huh?” She poked his cock with her finger, then wiggled on top of him. “Like these panties? They’re crotchless. I bought them just for you.”

 

            “R-really?” Suddenly Rob wasn’t paying attention to her underpants, exactly.

 

            “Yeah, like a present – oh, whoops, not in there!” She wiggled a little more. “I get a special pair for every guy I know. So it’s special.”

 

            “Uh, right. That’s very…special.”

 

Rob thought his dick was going to explode. Sarah braced her hands on his chest and raised her ass, just enough to catch the head of his dick in her pussy, then settled back down, swiveling her hips until he was buried in her. She unwrapped the towel and tossed it on the floor, then snuggled next to him, her wet hair sticking to her face.

 

“Who…who are you?” Rob managed.

 

She smiled. “Don’t you remember? I was your waitress? At the bar? A couple nights ago? You were there with your friend, that really sexy guy with the intense eyes? Nice to see I made an impression. I’m Sarah. Didn’t you get the note?”

 

“I remember you. But…I was a little drunk, I think.” Rob remembered the paper, pinned to her blouse. “I got the note, or a note. It was pinned to your shirt.”

 

“Mm-hmm.” She nuzzled his cheek with her nose, started rocking her hips back and forth. “I thought it would explain stuff.”

 

“Yeah, I, guess. B-but, who…I mean, why…are you here…?”

 

She gave him an odd look.

 

“Hey, are you okay with this? I mean, if you’re worried I might get pregnant, don’t be. The pill is my friend, you know?”

 

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…”

 

“Like, what? I don’t use anymore, and I only let Tony do my Tat’s, so I know his needles are clean, and I get tested once every…”

 

“No, no, no…It’s…”

 

“What, d’you have something? Oh, shit! He said you were a virg…”

 

Rob scowled. “No, no. I don’t have any diseases…”

 

“Wait a minute. I get it. You’re afraid I’ve got a jealous boyfriend, huh?”

 

Oh, shit, Rob thought. This  is so fucked up.

 

“Well…I…”

 

“Look, I know Russ was a freak, but he never really hurt anybody. Kenny’s a little fucked up, but he doesn’t get out for another six months. So that’s cool.”

 

“Six…months?” Rob’s penis wasn’t quite so happy anymore. He felt it waver inside her, getting ready to run for cover.

 

 “Mm-hm. And don’t worry about Tony. I can handle him. He’s just a pussycat, you know? He just wants me to be happy, and all that.”

 

“Oh, well. That’s not it either, see…”