Imagine a screenplay …
WIDE SHOT The roof of an eighty story building in Dallas. Hot summer night. The moon is a silver dollar balanced on a nearby church spire. The lights of the city dance in the heat. Inside a futuristic dome on the roof top there is a deep electronic growl as heavy machinery coils greased cable. There is a clank, a whoosh and footsteps covered by muffled voices, a man and a woman talking. A door cracks open and LINDA emerges. She is a Texas thoroughbred, long legged, wearing a short silver dress with a scooped neckline, diamond earrings, two carats each and that’s all. Even her shoes she left at the party. Her strawberry blonde mane, thick and cut rough, shifts on her shoulders in the occasional breeze. There is sweat on her bosom, on her neck and on her upper lip.
TODD follows her out onto the roof. He is six three and dark, the curly hair a short tousled mop. It contrasts with his immaculate Armani suit, dark blue with a fine gold stripe, a garnet Countess Mara tie, highly polished black wing tips, a signet ring on
his left little finger is gold with a filigreed T engraved in it.
LINDA ‘Let’s go cool off on the roof and look at the view.’Damn, Yankee man, you go for the simple stuff, don’t you?
TODD Like scotch, the simple stuff can do its job. Besides, I didn’t figure you as one who needed a big song and dance.
LINDA Don’t get me wrong Yankee, I like my music and I sure love to dance. But then you know that. I also like my bourbon, but I’ll drink whiskey if that’s all you got.
Todd pulls a hammered silver flask from his breast pocket.
TODD Will Wild Turkey do?
LINDA Wild anything.
She takes a strong pull at the flask, letting a little go down her throat. The rest she holds in her mouth and, putting a hand behind Todd’s neck, pulls his mouth onto her own. She feeds him the bourbon a little at a time until they are both out of breath and dizzy.
LINDA I’m so hot.
TODD You are. But, now who is laying out the corny lines?
LINDA Hell, it’s true. I was sure there would be some kind of breeze up here. Wait! Over there! Is that a ghost or is something blowing in the wind?
A bit unsteadily she trots across the pebbled roof to where a pale tarpaulin is fluttering on the low parapet in the moonlight.
LINDA Yankee, come here! Come, look! It’s one of those window washing things. You in the mood to wash some windows?
TODD You are spooking me the way you are hanging over that thing. No, wait a minute. I know exactly what you are imagining. Hey. I’m a daring guy when someone I trust is at the controls…
LINDA But you don’t trust me, is that it?
TODD More like I don’t trust me. I mean, I’m a bona fide member of the mile high club, but there we are talking a lot of action in a small space. There’s a lot of space here.
LINDA You gotta fill that space with a lot of action, then.
She presses herself against him and presses just the tip of her bourbon soaked tongue into his mouth.
TODD Damn, I don’t know, I can get pretty excited. I wouldn’t want to upend that thing.
LINDA We all gotta go sometime. Why not come and go all at once?
She stretches one dancer’s leg over the railing of the gondola, revealing that she has never opened a jar of bikini wax. With a few confident moves, she arranges the tarp into a crude but comfortable hammock. Reaching out a hand to Todd she pulls him into her nest.
TODD You’re going to have to work hard. Fear isn’t such a terrific aphrodisiac.
LINDA I’ll take care of you. Just sit right there. (She bends over and kisses him) Now close your eyes. That’s good. You look so sweet. Now tilt your head back and lift your chin. Open your mouth.
She has straddled him, standing, her skirt hiked up. In a couple of swift moves she wraps his body in the painters tarp so that only his head is visible. She holds onto the railing of the gondola and lowers her hips until her nether lips are brushing his mouth.
LINDA Eat me. Eat me good.
TODD Yes, Ma’am
Todd has a strong tongue and he makes it dig between her swollen lips. The liquor and the excitement have got her wet. He teases. He tickles. He spells the alphabet in upper and lower case on her clit. He does his damndest to ignore the swaying of the gondola as she begins to pump her cunt into his face. She tries to bury his chin in that slippery cave. Sometimes she nearly smothers him, but he knows he can always bite her if push comes to shove.
He decides to get tough and sucks her large clit into his mouth tight between his lips while he polishes the pink bead.
LINDA Damn yes! Damn YES! Keep that up, JUST like that. Don’t you DARE stop until I tell you to. Keep going. Suck it. Suck it. Pull it deeper into your mouth. YES. Like that. Pump it. Bite it. JESUS yes.. Look out. Look out. Look out. I’m gonna let go now. Oh, shiiiiiiit!
Todd’s face is flooded with her spunk and it keeps coming in spurts, her hips popping again and again against his mouth. She shudders and wails like a cat in heat.
Then suddenly she is unwrapping him.
LINDA Damn it man, I need it. Get up behind me quick and fill me. I need you to positively ream me out. Oh, I hope to GOD you’ve got a serious pecker in there. Oh, bless us, that’s a beauty.
She grabs the rail again and shoves her moist ass at him.
LINDA JAM me!
It takes no effort to find the target and in a moment he is pumping like an oil derrick on a gusher. The gondola rattles against the building and sways like a boat on the ocean.
LINDA Keep fucking me!
Todd fears it may be his last fuck, but it sure is a good one. Her strong, ample cheeks are spread wide and he is burying himself in her to the hilt with every thrust and she is shoving back against him and grinding, the hot sweet slime dripping off his cock every time he pulls out.
LINDA YEE HAH, you are good! RIDE me cowboy.
Todd slows his strokes, enjoying the feel of the chill air on his dick. As he begins to feel the jizz build in his balls he draws out ready to charge in with the fast strokes. Linda senses his last campaign and pulls away just a bit and drops her hips just a tad and rams her ass against him. Something is different.
He knows where he is and he doesn’t usually go there, but if this filly gets off on a visit through the back door he is willing to stay for supper. He commences jamming big time.
Perhaps she has not been so well reamed before or perhaps it is just damn good, but she starts to howl; doesn’t hold back a whit; just whoops out into the steel and glass canyons until the sound seems to fill the whole city. And then it is Todd’s turn.
Todd roars as he unloads.
TODD HOLY SHIIIIT!
The gondola slips and drops three feet. For a moment they are weightless.
LINDA SWEEEEEET MAMA!
Todd has never clutched another human being tighter in his life. Every ounce of spunk in him pours deep into Linda’s body.
LINDA I think I need some more of that Wild Turkey, right NOW.
She drains the flask.
LINDA Sorry soldier, I’ll buy you a refill at the bar. Now how shall we get the fuck out of here?
Todd manages to boost Linda up over the parapet, his hand digging deep into her slippery regions. Then with the help of her strong cowgirl’s arm, gets himself over the edge. They lie panting, looking at the night sky. After a while she climbs on him and begins to ruin his best pants by scrubbing against his stiff-sore dick.
LINDA Señor, I think you got heart. I’d dearly like to try you again. Ever done it sky diving? I’ve heard it’s quite and experience?
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Tom, a tall, slender man in his sixties, entered the men’s dressing room and headed for his locker. He joined the YMCA a little over six months ago, mainly for the swimming pool and sauna, and had just participated in his first low impact aerobics class; it had turned out to be more of a workout than he had imagined. He stripped out of his exercise clothes, pulled on his swim trunks and headed for the wet area, picking up a washcloth along the way. Tom stopped long enough to soak the washrag in the sink and entered the sauna.
“Do you mind?” he asked the sauna’s only occupant.
“Na, go ahead.”
With that, Tom squeezed the water from the cloth onto the hot rocks and recoiled slightly at the hissing noise and rising steam. Instantly, the small room seemed to be ten degrees hotter.
“Peps it up, doesn’t it?” Tom laughed.
“Sure does,” the stranger agreed, turning his head first in one direction and then the other till it popped. “My name’s Mike,” he added, extending his hand.
Mike appeared to be roughly the same age as Tom but shorter and a little heavier set.
“Tom shook the proffered hand. “I’m Tom,” he said, then climbed to the upper bench and took a seat.
“You’re already sweating,” Mike observed, “have a good workout?”
“Just did my first aerobics class,” Tom explained. “It’s harder than it looks but I really want to get rid of my gut, —my spare tire,” he added, patting his middle.
“So I hear,” Mike replied, “But the instructor looks pretty hot.”
“You mean that little blond?” Tom asked.
“Yeah, the little bitty one.”
“She’s super-hot!” Tom agreed. “I could devour her.”
“You’d like to eat her pussy, aye?”
“Oh hell yes! She’s such a doll I’d do her if nothing else happened; I’d love to get those pretty little legs wrapped around my neck. – - – Wouldn’t you?”
Mike thought for a second before answering. “I’d rather hold that little, blond head in my hands,” he said, pantomiming his words, “move it down to my crotch and watch my dick start going in and out of her pretty little mouth.”
“Yeah, that would be great, Tom concurred, closing his eyes for a moment to picture the scenario. “But I’d still want to eat her.”
“If you could have it one way or the other, but not both,” Mike began, “which would you choose?”
“Well, blowjobs are great,” Tom allowed, “but if I had to pick just one, I’d eat that little gal’s pussy till she went into a screaming orgasm!”
“Would you let her take on the role of a dominatrix and be her suck-slave for a day?”
“I’ve always wondered about that,” Tom confessed, chortling softly, “it could be hot, I think.” He pondered the situation for a long minute. “Yeah, I’d do it,” he said at last. “But, not just for a day, —for an entire week!”
“You really like giving oral, don’t you?”
“Oh yeah, I’ve loved going down on a pretty woman ever since I was in high school,” Tom admitted. “To tell you the truth, the first thing I wonder about when I see a pretty woman is what it would be like to go down on her. – - – I kind of peek at her ass if I can, or her camel toes and imagine what it would be like to get my face in it. —How about you?”
“Well, I’m kind of the exact opposite,” Mike explained. “The first thing I do is look at her mouth and imagine what it would be like to slide my cock in it.” He laughed. “One advantage I have over you is that I can look at her mouth all I want and not worry about getting slapped if I’m caught staring.”
They both laughed and Mike continued.
“I’m not keen on eating pussy, but I LOVE getting my cock sucked! It is my favorite thing in the whole world.” He chuckled softly. “Yeah, —I really love a good blowjob!”
“I like blowjobs too,” Tom assured, “But I LOVE going down on a pretty woman and I always stay till the job is done . . . I guess I really am an oral guy.”
“Did you ever suck a dick?”
“Hell no!” Tom snapped back. “I’m not gay, I just love eating pussy.” He relaxed a little when Mile held his hands up palms out and continued. “Look, I’m a happily married guy and have always loved women.”
“No offence,” Mike responded.
“None taken,” Tom replied, “just want to be sure you know I’m straight.”
“Okay, but tell me the truth, —have you ever thought about sucking a dick?”
“Well, the doctors who study this stuff say everybody thinks about it once in a while.”
Mike thought he blushed slightly but it was hard to tell in the hot sauna.
“Doesn’t mean they want to do it,” Tom explained, “it’s just a normal curiosity.”
“So, you have thought about it . . . thought about sucking a dick?”
“Well, a few times, I guess, but everybody does.”
“I never have,” Mike replied. “But then I don’t like using my mouth for sex, —hell I don’t even like eating pussy . . . just like to have my cock sucked.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d rather have a gal suck me off than fuck her any day!”
“Are you married?”
“Yeah, and my wife use to give really great head, —till she went through the change and lost interest in sex.”
“Too bad,” Tom observed. “My wife went through the change last year and I’ve been cut off ever since.” He shook his head disbelievingly. “She won’t even let me eat her pussy anymore.”
“Got yourself a girlfriend on the side?” Mike asked.
“Na, I really love my wife and don’t want to risk screwing up my marriage. How about you.”
“Mike smiled wryly and shook his head. “I was doing fine for almost a year until last month when the source of my relief, —my oral provider, retired and moved out west.” He chuckled softly. “Before that, I was getting two or three blowjobs a week with no strings attached.”
“You didn’t do anything in return; she just sucked your cock for you.”
“No reciprocation of any kind,” Mike assured.
“I’ll bet you were sure sorry to see her go.”
“Well – - – I didn’t say it was a she.”
Tom stared in disbelief. “You had a gay guy sucking you off?”
“Oh, he wasn’t gay,” Mike corrected. “He was a straight married guy who loved to give oral . . . and whose wife had cut him off.” He shrugged. “Kind of like you.”
“Well, if he started sucking dick, he wasn’t like me,” Tom responded quickly, his voice sounding strained.
“We’d been friends for years,” Mike explained. “I knew he loved eating pussy so, when we both got cut off at home and he said he didn’t want to take up with some strange gal, I suggested to him that if he liked eating the hole, he might love sucking the pole.”
“And, he went for that?”
“Not at first; he was afraid it would make him gay,” Mike said. “Then I explained to him that it doesn’t matter if a guy is sucking a dick, or getting his cock sucked by a guy . . . it’s the same thing.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, neither one of them is gay; they are both just horny and one is not doing anything gayer than the other, —they are both just releasing some tension.” He cocked his head and looked quizzically at Tom. “Doesn’t that make sense?”
“Well, I agree that neither one of them is gayer than the other.”
“So, are you calling me gay for letting him suck my dick?”
“No,” Tom replied, sounding nervous. “I mean, —it’s not for me to judge.” He thought for a moment and then asked: “Is he the only guy you’ve ever had suck your dick?”
“Yup,” Mike replied. “Before my wife went through the change, she was one great little cocksucker, —and really enjoyed swallowing a big load of cum.” He looked toward the ceiling and rubbed his crotch in fond remembrance. “She always took very good care of my horny cock so there was no need for me to have anyone else sucking me off.”
“And, you didn’t eat her pussy?”
“Oh, maybe once every month or so, —fucked her once or twice a week too, but most of the time she just sucked my cock for me . . . until menopause struck and ruined everything!”
“How long ago was that?”
“A little over a year, but lucky for me, Jim’s wife went through the change about the same time.”
“Jim is the guy who’s been sucking your cock?”
“Yeah, I think it was less than two months from the time my wife stopped sucking me off till he started.”
“Good timing, —and I guess you both enjoyed it,” Tom observed. “I know I sure miss sex,” he added remorsefully.
“Do you want to know something else about Jim?”
“Sure, —what?” Tom asked, almost whispering.
“He was like you in another way too; he fantasized about taking an orally submissive role and being dominated and kind of controlled. — forced to suck.”
“Look, I was talking about that girl, I mean, —”
“Oh, I know,” Mike said reassuringly, “but he said it took all the pressure off him giving up control. He said it was like he wasn’t responsible or in charge, so all his concerns about being gay went away.”
“That sounds silly,” Tom retorted. “But, I guess, in a way, it does kind of make sense.”
“Sure,” Mike explained.. “We remained friends and equals just like we had always been, but two or three times a week, he would become my valet and undress me, —then turn into my obedient, pussy-mouthed suck bitch and service my cock for me . . . something we both thoroughly enjoyed.”
“And – - – you came in his mouth?”
“Of course!” Mike said emphatically, “and he swallowed every drop.”
Tom didn’t respond but sat analyzing what Mike had said; it all seemed so strange to him to be talking to a man about getting his dick sucked . . . especially when there was a subliminal yet undeniable suggestion that maybe he should also suck this stranger’s dick.
“For one thing, that’s how I like my blowjobs to end, with me dumping my load in the cocksucker’s mouth.” Mike took a deep breath, blew it out and continued. “For another, during those special couple of hours a week, he was my bitch; he had no choice, no say in anything that happened. During those sessions, he was there strictly to lick and suck my cock and balls, to serve, service, please, pleasure and amuse me with his pussy-mouth and get absolutely nothing in return but a big load of goo shot in his mouth, a big wad that he knew ahead of time I would make him eat.”
“Well, it all sounds very interesting,” Tom allowed, “But, remember, —I’m not him.”
“Oh I know,” Mike hastened to assure. “Everybody’s different and has different buttons,” he paused and smiled broadly, “but . . . if you didn’t find my story kind of interesting, —you’d have been out the door a long time ago!”
“You’re an interesting guy,” Tom said. “I’ll give you that.” He left the sauna, showered off, dressed and prepared to leave the building. He had just reached the exit when he heard a now familiar voice.
“Hey, Tom.” Mike smiled at him from the open doorway to the game room. “Wanna play a little ping pong?”
He didn’t know how Mike had gotten there ahead of him . . . but he had. “Why not?” Tom replied; “I used to be pretty good.”
“Me too,” Mike replied, “but I really haven’t had anyone to play with since Jim moved away.” That sardonic smile crossed his face again. “If you really enjoy the game, —maybe you can take Jim’s place.”
“At ping pong, you mean?”
“Sure,” Mike’s face broadened into a wide grin. “What else?”
Tom had been back to the YMCA twice without running into Mike and had just about forgotten their protracted conversation when history repeated itself. He changed into his swimsuit after the aerobics class, soaked a washrag and entered the sauna . . . and there he was.
“Tom, how you doing?” Mike asked.
Tom felt his face flush with embarrassment though he didn’t know why. After all, it was Mike who had admitted to having a homosexual relationship with another man. In fact, a prolonged homosexual relationship with session occurring two or three times a week for almost a year while Tom had remained pure as the driven snow.
“Fine,” Tom replied, “how about yourself?” he squeezed water onto the hot rocks and climbed to his perch on the top bench . . . maybe a little closer to Mike than he had been during their previous conversation.
“Pretty good,” Mike returned, “just horny as hell!” He began rubbing his crotch.
Tom laughed nervously. “There’s a lot of that going around,” he replied, trying desperately not to look at Mike’s crotch, and only patricianly succeeding.
“You only beat me at ping pong by three points last time,” Mike reminded, “I’d like a rematch.”
“Sure,” Tom agreed, glad that the conversation had not turned to sex, “any time.”
“My friend Jim, —the one I told you about, called me yesterday.”
“That’s nice,” Tom allowed. “I remember you said you two had been good friends for several years.”
“Yes and we still are.”
“That’s good,” Tom replied, beginning to feel nervous again.
“I told him about you,” Mike returned. “He said you sound like a nice guy and he’d like to meet you sometime.”
“What do you mean, you told him about me?” Tom asked apprehensively.
“Oh, I just told him I met a nice guy named Tom, that’s all; —Remember, I am the soul of discretion.” Mike laughed. “I just told him you were a very nice guy who loved to eat pussy and had been cut off at home.”
“What’d he say?”
“He said I should explain to you how great it would be for both of us if you’d start sucking my cock on a regular basis . . . even greater if you did what he did and took on the role of a submissive suck bitch.”
“That’s not going to happen, —so put it out of your mind.”
“I know, I know.” Mike chuckled. “He did say; if you wanted to hear the cocksucker’s opinion of that relationship, —he’d be happy to talk to you about it.”
Tom was amazed. Here was a basically straight, married man who had no problems referring to himself as a cocksucker and even recommending the experience. “Well, —it would be interesting to talk to him,” Tom agreed, “as long as he doesn’t know who I am.”
“He’s fifteen-hundred miles away!” Mike laughed. “What are you afraid of, —that he’ll jump through the phone lines and call you a cocksucker?”
“Nobody can call be a cocksucker,” Tom said defiantly, “I’ve never sucked a cock before.”
That mocking, sardonic grin spread over Mike’s face again. “Before when?” he asked.
“You know what I mean,” Tom stammered. “I’ve never sucked a dick ever, —and I’m not going to start now.”
“I got it,” Mike assured. “You love to suck but, —you are cut off at home. You will not take up with another woman and you won’t suck my perfectly safe married cock . . . so you are going to go through the rest of your life without having any sex other than jacking yourself off.” He shook his head. “Is that about it?” He rubbed his crotch a little more obviously. “Tell me the truth; does that sound stupid, —or what?”
In Tom’s mind, —that did sound stupid, extremely stupid, —dumber than dirt in fact. Maybe, he thought, I can hire a prostitute now and then, eat her out, and then have her give me a blow job. He caught himself glancing at Mike’s hand . . . the one rubbing his crotch, and forced his eyes upward. If I can buy her, he thought, so can everyone else . . . and that puts her at high risk for STDs.
“Look,” Mike began, “If I liked to suck, —I’d have no problem sucking your cock; I just don’t like to suck, — in fact, I hate it!” He grimaced. “I even hate sucking pussy, —and there’s no way in hell that I’m ever going to suck a dick and take a load of goo in my mouth!”
“So . . . why do you think I should do it?”
Mike thought for a few seconds. “Do you like oysters on the half-shell?” he asked.
“I love them!” Tom replied. “I can make an entire meal out of them.”
“I hate them!” Mike came back. “So, —does that mean you should stop eating them?”
“Of course not, —and I see your point,” Tom agreed. “Can we change the subject; this is making me kind of uncomfortable.”
“Okay, but let me make one final statement,” Mike agreed. “I have a cock that loves being sucked and you have a mouth that loves to suck; they are only four feet apart . . . and yet neither one is getting what it wants , what it craves.” He shook his head in mock disgust. “Does it make any sense for me to have a horny cock and you to have an empty mouth?”
“We need to talk about something else,” Tom said softly, “this is really kind of embarrassing me.” He rubbed his brow and flipped sweat onto the hot rocks. “I mean, I’m not gay or bi, I’ve never sucked a cock . . . and don’t plan on starting now.”
“No problem,” Mike returned, “But, since our last conversation, you have been thinking about sucking my cock, haven’t you?”
“I’m going to swim a couple of laps to cool off,” Tom, said, “then I’ll give you that ping pong rematch.”
The two left the sauna and went their separate ways.
The water temperature in the pool was a very comfortable eighty-two degrees and Tom waded in and began swimming back and forth, alternating between the breast and the back stroke, he swam four laps and then headed for the showers. After washing the chlorine out of his hair and swimsuit, he toweled dry and went to his locker. Tom was secretly glad and maybe just a little disappointed that Mike was not standing next to him naked; he was a little curious how his new, unusual friend was hung. Not that he would ever suck his dick, still . . . he wondered. Finally, he tossed his towel in the bin and walked toward the exit.
As he approached the front desk, he could see Mike chatting with the girl behind the counter and, it appeared to Tom, he was focused on watching her mouth move.
“Hey,” Mike greet when Tom drew nearer, “are you ready for that ping pong rematch?”
Tom glanced at his watch. “Sure,” he said, “I don’t know why I’m looking at my watch; I really don’t have anywhere I need to be this afternoon.
The two stepped into the game room and stopped; —there were two teenaged boys batting the little white orb back and forth on the green, wooded table.
“Why aren’t those little bastards in school? Mike queried.
“No matter; I live about five minutes from here and I have a nice table at my house.”
“Well . . . . . “
“Come on,” Mike said good-naturedly. “You’re a big boy and besides, —rape isn’t my thing.”
Tom flushed with embarrassment. He felt like his manhood had been challenged and that was something he could not allow. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll follow you.”
Mike led the way in his cream colored Mercury, chatting away on his cellphone; Tom followed in his tan Dodge Ram. Their path wound around behind the Publix Shopping Plaza and through a modest but well maintained subdivision. Finally, Mike pulled into the driveway of a single story white block home and switched off the engine; Tom pulled in behind him and did likewise.
“Here we are,” Mike said, unlocking the front door and pushing it open, “welcome to my humble abode.
“Very nice,” Tom said as he stepped into the living room and looked around. “Is your wife home?”
“No, she works downtown and doesn’t get home till round six,” Mike replied. “I was talking to her on the phone on the way over here. She doesn’t get off for a couple of hours and it takes her right at an hour to get home.” He chuckled, put his hand on Tom’s shoulder and guided him through the living room, the dining room and out onto the screened porch.
There was a bamboo sofa along one wall separating the porch from the house with small rattan end tables and matching chairs on either side. The floor tile was a brilliant, marbled shade of cerise with while grout and a five bladed Hunter Ceiling Fan hung directly over the net on the dark-green ping pong table; two paddles lay on one end of the playing surface, one pinning a white ball to the wood. Through the screen a small swimming pool could be seen in the modest back yard that was enclosed be a wooden privacy fence. Along the wall to Tom’s far right a Budweiser chandelier hung over a rattan bar with four bamboo barstools parked in front of it.
“Grab a seat,” Mike said, indicating the couch with a wave of his hand. “Want a beer?”
“Maybe one,” Tom replied, sitting down on the sofa.
Mike went around behind the bar and took two longneck bottles of Budweiser out of a small fridge, screwed the caps off and dropped them into a trash can. He came from behind the bar holding both beers in one hand, picked up a barstool with the other and walked to where Tom sat on the couch. He handed Tom a beer, placed the barstool directly in front of him and sat on it . . . smiling that wry smile of his.
“Ahh, what’s up,” Tom asked warily.
“Nothing, I just wanted to show you something.”
“These are the exact positions Jim and I were in the first time he sucked my cock.”
Tom breathed in sharply through his nose but neither spoke nor moved.
“You can see how perfectly my cock, —” Mike said, rubbing the crotch in his navy blue Bermuda shorts, “lines up with your face, —with your mouth.” He leaned forward, took his hand off his crotch and ran a finger around Tom’s lips . . . and then slid it into his mouth.
For a second, Tom was too startled to move. And then, as the reality of the situation sunk in, he pushed Mike’s hand away from his face and leaned back away from it. “Hey, don’t do that.”
“Relax, I told you rape isn’t my thing.” Mike laughed warmly. “I just thought you might like to see what it felt like to be Jim the first time he sucked my cock.” He chuckled. “After that first time, he sucked me off pretty much every chance he had . . . so he must have liked it; that’s why I wanted to share it with you.” He went back to rubbing his crotch, which was beginning to develop a slight bulge.
“Okay, I got it,” Tom replied. He relaxed and came a little more forward on the sofa into a more comfortable sitting position. “But remember; I’m not Jim.”
“Let me ask you a question,” Mike rejoined, ignoring Tom’s statement. “If you were going to eat that pretty little aerobics instructor right after she finished teaching an advanced class and was all hot and sweaty, would you want her to shower first, —or would you rather eat her all hot and dripping?”
“Well, —I’ve always like my women ala natural, so I definitely would NOT want her to bathe first!”
“That’s what I figured,” Mike said. “I think true oral people all like it kind of nasty, so I didn’t bathe after coming out of the sauna, just toweled off and got dressed.” He took a swig of beer before continuing. “So, —my cock will have a nice, sweaty/salty flavor . . . in case you’re interested.”
“That’s way too much information,” Tom replied, squirming around in his seat. “And, what do you mean, oral people are nasty?”
“Well, first off, you want to put your face down where your partner pisses and shits, then take their unwashed genitalia into your mouth and suck on it; that sounds kind of nasty.” He took another sip from his beer; Tom did likewise. “If you’re performing cunnilingus, eating pussy, you’re going to wind up drinking about a cup of pussy juice before you finish. Or if you’re performing fellatio, sucking a cock, you’re going to get dollops of pre-cum oozing into your mouth all during the blowjob . . . which will end with big, stringy cum-wads being shot into your mouth, —goo you will eat and swallow.” He smiled. “Does that sound about right?”
“Well yeah, I guess, —but it’s not nasty; it’s exciting.”
“No, it’s exciting because it’s nasty . . . because it’s kind of taboo, forbidden.”
“That might be part of it,” Tom allowed, “but your partner will really be enjoying what you’re doing, you know, getting off on it, —and mood is contagious.”
“Sure it is,” Mike agreed. “But oral people like taking a pisser into their mouths, maybe sticking their tongues up a poop-shoot, —doing nasty things with their mouth is a big turn-on for them. Right?”
“Well, yeah, I guess so.”
“Plus, for a dominant guy like you to put your face in somebody else’s crotch is kind of a role reversal, kind of a submissive thing to do.” He drained his beer and set the empty on the end table. “And, I’m pretty sure that adds to the excitement . . . especially if your partner really assumes the dominant role and talks dirty to you or tells you what to do. Would you agree?”
“Well . . . sure,” Tom stammered. “I mean I’ve never experienced that but I think it would be fun and exciting and, well, stimulating, arousing, —you know, a big turn-on. I do love giving oral and that’s why I said I’d rather eat that little aerobics instructor than fuck her, or even have her give me a blowjob.”
“Okay, you’ve made my point for me.”
“What point is that?”
“If you take homophobia out of the mix, —sucking the hole or sucking the pole is exactly the same thing,” Mike stated flatly.
“What in the world are you talking about?” Tom asked. “How can sucking off a pretty girl and sucking off another man be the same thing?” He caught his eyes following Mike’s hand as he rubbed his crotch and quickly looked away.
“The excitement comes from the taboo, the nastiness of putting your face in someone else’s crotch, taking their genitals into your mouth and sucking, swallowing their juices, maybe making eye contact with them while you service them . . . being kind of submissive and a provider of their desires. Giving them pleasure by putting the nastiest part of their body in your mouth and sucking on it.”
“Yeah, it sounds pretty hot when you spell it out like that,” Tom agreed, feeling is own crotch begin to rise.
“Exactly! And it really doesn’t matter if you’re eating a pussy, or sucking on a cock, it’s basically the same thing once you ditch your silly homophobic notions. Once Jim figured that out, his sex life got really good . . . and so did mine.” He leaned forward and began running his finger around Tom’s lips again. “You know you love using your mouth for sex, right?”
Tom nodded, —ever so slightly, but it was a nod just the same.
Mike slipped two fingers into Tom’s mouth, “Suck on ‘um,” he said, “close your lips and suck.”
For a second, Tom did not move, and then he closed his lips around Mike’s fingers and began to suck and slowly move his head back and forth.
“Ummm, that’s a good bitch,” Mike encouraged.
Tom trembled slightly at the word “bitch” and started to pull away; Mike put his free hand on the back of Tom’s head and held it in place. Slowly, he worked his fingers into Tom’s mouth until the tips were actually in his throat, —and then got to his feet.
With one of his hands on each side of Tom’s face, he brought it forward and pressed it against his crotch. Tom could feel Mike’s stiffening penis as he ground it against his face, dry humping him, moaning softly as he did.
“You’re my bitch now and for as long as I want, until I’m through using you,” Mike said. “Do you understand?”
“Okay,” Tom whispered, and felt his heart begin to pound.”
“The proper response is ‘yes sir’,” Mike corrected, tilting Tom’s face up to look in his eyes.
“Yes sir,” Tom replied dutifully.
“That’s a good bitch.” Mike smiled. “Now, be a good cocksucker and unbuckle my belt.”
“You can’t call me a cocksucker,” Tom objected. “I’ve never – - – “
“Okay, bitch, I get it,” Mike replied. “So . . . unbuckle my belt, you little slut.”
Tom reached forward with trembling hands and began fumbling with Mike’s buckle; it was different coming at it from this angle but in a few second he had it undone.
“Take it off and put in on the end table,” Mike directed, “just in case I need to whip your ass with it later.”
Tom swallowed hard and then did as he was told, curling the leather belt up into a nice coil before putting it on the table.
“Now,” Mike directed, “unbutton my shorts and pull the zipper down nice and slow; think about what you’re doing and what’s waiting for you.” When Tom had complied, Mike continued. “Take my shorts down to the floor and hold them while I step out of them.”
Tom lowered the navy blue Bermuda shorts to reveal a white pair of BVDs with something hard pushing against them from the inside. He lowered the shorts to the floor but instead of stepping out of them, Mike pulled Tom’s face forward and again ground his cock against it. After a few seconds, he allowed Tom to pull back a little and then lifted first one foot and then the other as his shorts were removed.
“Put them on the sofa next to you, bitch,” Mike ordered. “Now look at my cock.”
Tom did as he was told and felt a tremor run through his body. Mike’s phallus had continued to grow and Tom began wondering just how big it would get. It was then he remembered; he did not know if Mike was circumcised. He studied the penis, straining to be free of its restraints, but gathered no new information. He decided that it did not matter if Mike was cut or uncut since, barring a tornado touching down in Mike’s backyard, he was going to have to suck it either way. He licked his lips nervously.
“Look in my eyes and tell me how much you want to suck my cock,” Mike ordered.
Tom looked up at Mike’s face. “I, – - – I, – - -ahhh,. – - “
“Still not sure, aye.” Mike smiled his strange smile again. “Well, I’m sure I’m going to fuck your slut mouth. – - Okay, for now just tell me you’re my bitch.”
“I’m, ah, I’m your bitch.”
“My suck bitch. – - – Say it, whore.”
“I’m your suck bitch, your whore.”
“And you’ll suck whatever I tell you to. – - – say it!”
“I’ll suck whatever you tell me to.”
“Now, take off my underpants, bitch,” Mike ordered. “I’m ready to fuck your mouth.”
Tom took hold of the waistband of Mike’s underpants with both hands and began slowly sliding them down. When the penis got free, it bounced up and down four or five times apparently from sheer exuberance and anticipation of what was to come. As the underpants reached the floor, Tom found his face brushing against Mike’s cock and being tickled by the hairs curling outwardly from his balls. As it turned out, Mike was circumcised but with an ample amount of foreskin remaining. At last, Mike allowed Tom to remove his underpants and place them on the sofa on top of his Bermuda shorts. Tom sat staring at Mike’s cock, and he could swear it was staring back.
“Do you want me to get undressed?” Tom asked, glancing up at Mike’s face.
“Hell no,” Mike replied. “I have no interest in doing anything with your cock; in fact I don’t even want to see it.” He took hold of his cock, leaned forward and slapped Tom lightly on each side of his face with it. “The only players in this game are my cock and balls, and your pussy-mouth. Got it, bitch?”
“Yes sir,” Tom replied meekly. He was more nervous and embarrassed than he could ever remember being . . . but also very excited and turned-on!
“Here are the rules,” Mike said. “That cunt mouth of yours is my sex toy; – - – it’s not your sex toy, it’s mine to use anyway and everyway I want, without asking or doing anything in return. Do you understand, bitch?”
“And, when I’m through fucking it or having it lick my balls and my cock, then it will become my cum-dumpster.” He pointed his finger at Tom. “I haven’t cum for a few days so I have a huge load built up; I’m going to shoot it all in your mouth, and you better not spill a drop. You have to eat my cum-wads and keep sucking my cock, nurse on it, milk out all the drops and swallow them too. Got it, slut?”
Mike was not speaking loudly or harshly but there was such an air of authority about him that, even though Tom had some misgiving about swallowing his goo, he humbly acquiesced. “Yes sir,” he said timidly.
“Good,” Mike returned. “Now, go get me a beer out of the fridge, bitch, and get back over here; it’s time for your cock sucking lessons to begin.”
Astonished at the order, Tom swung one leg up and past Mike, slid over on the couch and stood up. He walked quickly to the fridge, very aware of his accelerated pulse, removed a bottle of beer and returned to where Mike stood. He opened the beer, handed it to him and then climbed back to his former position on the sofa with his face only inches from Mike’s crotch and jutting cock.
Mike took a drink of beer, placed the bottle on the end table, and then put both hands on the bar stool behind him and pushed his crotch upward and outward toward Tom. “Okay, whore, start licking my hairy balls.”
Tentatively, Tom leaned forward, realizing that he had passed the point of no return, and began licking Mike’s hairy, low hanging scrotum.
Mike moaned contentedly and, after several seconds, gave new instructions. “Alright, you nasty slut, use your hands and see if you can get both my balls in your mouth at the same time, but be very careful not to hurt me.”
Tom began working to carry out the new order. Finally, exercising great care not to cause pain, Tom got both of Mike’s testicles in his mouth. His cheeks were bulging out on both sides, Mike’s cock was lying across the length of his face and he was sure he looked like a jazz trumpeter blowing high C, but he had accomplished it.
Mike looked down at him and laughed. “You really look silly, bitch.” He laughed again. “You look like a chipmunk, — a big faggot chipmunk with your cheeks full of my nuts. Now, hum a real low frequency hummmmmmmmmmm and make my balls vibrate; it’ll stimulate them to make more cum for me to shoot in your cum-dumpster mouth and make you eat.”
Tom, a life-long baritone, pushed his range to the maximum and produced a long, sustained hum that vacillated between low C and the B-Flat below that.
“Oooo! Good job, bitch,” Mike said. “Now, take my cum-filled balls out of your mouth; it’s time to drain them, – - – suck ‘um dry and swallow the goo.” He pointed at his cock. “But first, there’s a big drop of pre-cum on my slit you need to lick off.”
Tom let the fur-ball that was Mike’s nut-sack slide out of his mouth, moved his head back and looked at the Mikes cock. It appeared to be approximately seven inches long, a little thicker than average with a big drop of opaque goo glistening on the tip. It looked very nasty to him and he instinctively pulled away from it.
Mike stood up straight, reached out and took Tom by the hair with one of his hands. “Lick it off, you nasty bitch, and swallow it. – - – You don’t have to like it; – - – you just have to do it.” He pulled Tom’s head forward.
Though slightly repulsed, Tom allowed his head to be pulled forward till his mouth was less than an inch from the glob of goo on the end of Mike’s dick. He steeled himself for the task at hand and began licking the head of Mike’s cock, bringing the continually oozing drops of goo into his mouth and swallowing them.
“That-a boy,” Mike encouraged. “Now, bitch, put your hands down now and try to take my cock into your mouth without using them.”
Tom felt a wave of apprehension sweep over him. He had never had a cock in his mouth and, therefore, could not be considered a cocksucker. Now, he was being asked, ordered, to change all that, to take another man’s penis into his mouth and suck on it till it squirted big globs of goo and filled his mouth nasty semen and sperm.
“Come on, you sleazy cunt, it’s a challenge,” Mike encouraged. “You try to get my cock in your mouth, and I will twitch it and make it hard for you. It will be kind of like bobbing for apples, only bobbing for cock. Do you think you can handle it, bitch?” Mike knew this ruse was more likely to get his cock in Tom’s mouth than just asking or telling him to suck a cock for the first time in his life. He waited.
Tom thought about it for a few seconds, and then lunged forward, trying to capture Mike’s rigid cock with his wide-open mouth. Mike twitched his penis; the head rose three inches and poked Tom just below his left eye. The next four attempts brought about similar results with Tom being poked, stuck or jabbed in both eyes and his nose twice. On his sixth try, he feinted a lunge, pulled back and then raised his head high and dropped it down, engulfing the entire head Mike’s penis and the first inch below it.
Mike’s hand instantly shot out and came to rest on the back of Tom’s head. “Oooo, clever bitch,” he congratulated, “Now – - – suck!”
For a moment, Tom remained motionless, then he began sucking and rolling his tongue around on the cock head. Mike had told the truth; his cock did have a fairly strong salty, sweaty flavor. He was also right in that Tom found it more of a turn-on than a turn-off.
Mike sat down, took Tom’s head in both hands and began moving it up and down, jacking himself off with Tom’s sucking mouth. “Ahhhh, that’s a good cocksucker,” he sighed.
Tom tried to object. “Hummm – Ummm” he intoned with Mike’s cock still in his mouth.
“I know you’ve always said you weren’t a cocksucker, because you’ve never sucked a cock,” Mike soothed. “But, my cock is in your mouth, – - and you are sucking on it,” he said, stating the obvious. “So, – - – at this moment in time, you are most definitely a cocksucker. Right? – - – Now, – hum your answer without stopping what you are doing, – you cocksucker.”
“Ummmm Hummmm,” Tom replied, feeling simultaneously extremely embarrassed, – - and incredibly turned-on.”
“And, you’re going to suck my cock anytime I want, for as long as I want, as often as I say and in whatever position I tell you, – - right, bitch? – Now, look me in the eye when you answer me.”
Tom forced himself to make eye contact with Mike while continuing to bob up and down on his cock. “Ummmm – Hummmm.”
“That’s a good cocksucker,” Mike acknowledged, patting Tom on the head. He leaned forward, picked up his beer and took a long pull. “Two of man’s favorite things, a beer and a blowjob.” He chuckled and took another sip. “Really great when they are combined. Right, cocksucker?” He burped loudly and continued. “Well, I guess you have to be the one receiving a blowjob, not the slut with some guy’s dork in his mouth to combine the two of them; – - I guess it would be kind of hard to drink a beer when you have some a man’s cock pumping your mouth and you’re slurping away on it. Isn’t that right, cocksucker?”
“Ummmm Hummmm” Tom replied, feeling extremely degraded and wondering why he tolerated it, – - – why he was actually kind of enjoying the degradation.
For the next few minutes, Tom sucked, made slurping noises and did everything he could to pleasure Mike’s cock, and stimulate his erotic mind at the same time.”
“Okay, cocksucker, let’s work on your deep-throating now.” With that, Mike took Tom’s head in his hands and lined it up so that there was a straight line from the base of his cock, to its tip, to Tom’s lips and on to his Adam’s apple. He ran his fingers around Tom’s lips a few times while Tom was still sucking on his cock. “Now lick my cock up and down and make sure it is all nice and wet . . . and slippery . . . so it will be easy to slide it all down your throat. You do want to deep throat my cock for me, – - even it’s hard for you to do at first, – - don’t you?”
“Mmmmm, – - -?”
“Well, whether you enjoy it or not, you will follow my orders and do it anyway won’t you? You’ll swallow my entire cock, just to please and pleasure me, right?”
“Okay, now try to slide all the way down on my cock and lick my balls,” Mike said. “But don’t focus on my cock or you might gag; focus on licking my balls and you will probably be able to get all of my cock down your throat . . . now, stick your tongue out as far as you can, try to hold your throat open, and go for it.”
Tom had never been deep-throated, but had always wondered about it. Now, instead of getting it, he was going to be the one doing it. He stuck his tongue out, concentrated on holding his throat wide open and focusing completely on licking Mike’s testicles. He got his tongue flicking across Mike’s scrotum before he gagged and chocked. He recoiled but Mike grabbed the back of his head and only allowed him to back up till the cock head was in the center of his mouth,
“Very good, bitch,” Mike said, praising his initial effort. “With a little practice, you are going to make a great cocksucker.” He laughed. “And, nice guy that I am, I’m going to let you spend a lot of time with my cock in your mouth, practicing.” He gently urged Tom’s head forward again. “Try going all the way down on it again; just stick out your tongue, hold your throat open and concentrate on licking my balls.”
*NB: this chapter is told from the view point of Ashley*
There was something about Vespa that made me happy, but I just could not place it. When she brought us food and was sitting so close to me I felt at ease, as if she was someone I trusted. I believed in fate and the supernatural because it was such an important part of my life growing up. My mother was a mystic and always spoke to strangers as if she knew them. She was a special woman and I could sense Vespa was the same. Every time she brushed up against me I had to respond in kind, I could not afford to treat her in any way other than she wanted. I was so glad we met the girls like we did, because I needed someone to talk to. My son was great but I could not tell him I was raped by two men in brown robes. I could not tell him, that they also lived in our lodgings. I’m not sure which room but I did not want revenge. When I had my shower they were in there with me. One recognized me as he was soaping his body and tapped his friends shoulder. They both smiled and waved and then jerked off in front of me.
“Is your ass still sore?” One asked.
I turned away and kept to myself. I was thankful there were others around otherwise I may have been raped again.
Somehow, I shut them out of my mind long enough to get some sleep. My son was being great and let me embrace him with all my heart. Could he feel it beating? I could feel his. He was very hard below so I trapped his big cock between my legs. I did not want him to think I knew because he is easily embarrassed, but so am I. Everything about him is big and that makes me proud. He has big hands, a big cock which should please the ladies and a long tongue like mine. Of course it felt a bit awkward at first, lying naked with my son but then I just melted into him after a while and dropped off to sleep.
He might have to shave my pussy soon so I’m not looking forward to that. As I was saying, meeting the girls changes a few of the dynamics surrounding our investigation.
Usma seemed to connect with my son right off the bat. After we ate and they suggested we go to the stream, I had to agree. I enjoyed the games we played – just acting silly and childish was therapeutic. Vespa clung to me on the way to the tree’s. She told me she would be waiting in the middle. I didn’t want to cheat on my son like that but I felt like playing along to see where it could lead. A good investigator watches everything unfold seamlessly, so there is no need to force anything. I started off a little edgy though and threatened to compromise our cover.
I was foolish to shave my pussy by myself but I had no idea these people had powers. At least the red ones. When I was in the middle tree and Vespa pulled me in, I almost felt like I was being handled by my ex-husband. He used to hold me with such confidence and I forgot how much I miss that. She was so tall and so slim, like a supermodel, yet she was deceptively strong.
she made the flesh under my chin feel funny, and my knees a bit wobbly. I knew it wasn’t love – how could it be? I grew up knowing my mother batted for both sides in a town where the church ruled our lives. I guess thats why she became a mystic. Sometimes the wrong messages can only drive us further away, into places and passions we might not otherwise have gone.
I don’t know where I went, but was very fortunate to have a mother that gave me a choice. I was never into girls and nothing has changed, which is why I am trying to place Vespa. Where can she be allocated? When she held my face, I instinctively knew that I had to open my mouth. I waited mouth agape for her, even though it was not instructed and we were in the middle of a silly game, I waited and took long deep breaths like a gecko in a hot dry desert. Vespa smiled and drew her mouth in just over mine before spitting inside. It was the biggest thrill I ever felt. My first reaction I admit was surprise. strange thing to say when you open you’re mouth out and present it to someone who is nearly holding you up off the floor.
Maybe what I did was symbolic of our growing bond. How I responded to her was a consequence of earlier actions on her behalf, after all, she was the one who brought me food earlier. I was like her child; a chick in the nest wanting my mothers beak to open.
Somehow, I married the issue of sexual frustration with maternal longing, both of which seemed fairly vacant from my life, even before Lisa’s abduction. But Just because I had not had sex in so long it did not mean I was suddenly gay or desperate. In the past, I had listened to my son beat off in his room when he thought he was alone in the house and it bothered me, because one of us had to be the responsible one.
There were times when it was difficult, and in weaker moments I found myself walking into se shops and sometimes coming out with the odd kinky accessory. I had bought quite a few dildo’s and was fascinated by them but never used any. I just didn’t think it was appropriate for me to be scrubbing the walls of my pussy with a detached rubber cock in my room just in case Rob walked in on me. I imagined it was the sort of image he did not want and could effect him in a bad way. My ex admitted he sometimes he had images of his mother manifest while we were having intercourse, so, the same could happen to Rob maybe. I was thankful then that I had limited him to seeing less of me in a way that could compromise our relationship.
Coming here jeopardized that somewhat. I felt closer to my son – really close; like best buddies. When you feel close to someone you can become dangerously attached to them and highly dependent. They feel like your property, but my son IS my property.
As a guilty pleasure, I heard him jacking off many times and it was the sound of someone really enjoying himself. I took sick days at work just to hide in the house and try and listen. I never once touched my pussy. But I was always thinking about it. If you allow your sexual desires to mount, can they erupt when you least expect them to?
Vespa was trying to find out. She had seduced me without having spoken any words. I was so weak, i succumbed to her touch. I liked the way she just grabbed me and treated me like I was nothing and her two faces were fascinating. In front of my son she acted differently – like she did not want him to know her true intentions. Usma was the same. But the way they were presenting themselves to me … was that real? I had to dig further.
I had to be more careful though, because, when I trust people, I start revealing my entire life to them – all the dirty laundry comes out, all in one basket.
When we hurled my son into the mud pond and Usma suggested we run back to the room, I was so caught up in the game, I followed behind but my ass was hurting so I stopped. Usma carried on and Vespa promised to stay behind. She said “Hold my hand.” and I wanted to make feel happy so I reached out and held it even though I was complaining I could not run, she said “Shhh.” and gazed into my eyes.
“I know.” She said.
“How?” I asked, guessing she was on the right page.
“The way you walk. Sometimes you wince and you don’t strike me as a submissive woman. In fact, I know you do not like to be dominated.”
“Really?” I was so confused. She could read the expressions on my face even if the light bulb died.
She knew I had been raped. she was right, I was not submissive. Sometimes, powerful minds suffer lapses of weakness, when they are as vulnerable as the next person. My behavior was probably a result of trauma; shock of being aggressively raped and mentally dismantled. Suddenly I retreated into my shell for the first time, into a form I only remember filling as a child.
My mother would only open up to me. I was like her human diary. She didn’t keep anything hidden, she made sure I swept the roads clean (in her head) and I was like the rubbish bin. I told Vespa that my mother had an opinion on incest regarding its lines and where they were drawn. She was an avid voyeur, like her brother and together they would watch their parents fucking. When her brother was older, he started to have sex with girls and my mother liked to watch him fuck them. When they were both married, my mum increased the stakes and would visit him and sit in the same room while he fucked women. She did not consider it incest. Even when she circled his nipples with her toe throughout an entire session she did not consider it incest. Incest was simply penetration.
I told Vespa this.
“I can smell gay and you are not gay, or bi.” She told me, dismissing any possible protest. I was almost disappointed I didn’t make the grade. I felt rejected and wanted to show her she was wrong, but then that would be a manifestation of a false struggle; wanting to prove something just to show someone they had to think carefully before estimating you correctly.
“Come.” she said.
I started to walk – I did it for her. When she walked with me, she wanted to stare into my eyes but I would sometimes look away or try to look busy.
“There are three other types of robe you know.” She told me.
“Apart from brown & red?”
“In what order?”
“Blue robes; Yellow robes and … black robes.”
She squeezed my hand and slowed down for me. I never wanted her to let go. She wasn’t sure exactly, but knew that they had abilities. The black robes were never seen. They did not even make rare appearances. Only yellow robes had seen them. The higher the rank, the fewer the number of positions held. Usma figured there were 10 yellow robes. Only one had made an appearance so far. His name was Dalrich.
“Apparently he can fly.” She said. Maybe to scare me, I wasn’t sure, so I tightened my grip on her. I was hurting her but she kept a straight face. If she was right he could be flying overhead, spying on us.
That was what appealed to Vespa, that’s why she joined in the first place, and Usma was just tagging along.
The winds seemed to pick at night, being on an island that was a common thing. It was hard to trust you’re footing on the ground when you couldn’t tell the shadows from the holes. We made it back to my lodging and did not run into my attackers.
She turned around and held my face.
“What?” I asked softly.
“You are sleeping with me tonight.” She said and she wasn’t asking.
She was young enough to be my daughter and I was submitting to her. She seemed strong like those two men yesterday. I opened my mouth again – this time I wanted it. She pressed my mouth hard and spat inside. I closed my mouth and swallowed it all down.
“You are something else.” She laughed.
Maybe I was a slave?
The word, in a sexual context, had many variations. What was mine? It was possible I transcended orientation. If my main area of stimulation was submission, could I still be categorized as gay, bi, or straight? Did having homosexual labels offend me? Being something and trying it, were two different things. If I was so turned on by Vespa, I could still be straight. I had never been excited by women, and felt nothing for Usma, despite the way she dressed. I could see she was however, making an impression on my son. I didn’t like her but needed to be alone with Vespa.
When we were inside, Usma was getting hyper and pacing around the room talking about how much fun she had tonight. Me and my Vespa sat down and were already reading each others minds. We couldn’t wait to get rid of her. I belonged to Vespa now, and Usma would just have to get used to it.
I interlocked my hand with hers and Vespa sang me a few very old songs. I was so enthralled by her knowledge of the lyrics. She was truly gifted.
“I will only do it for you.” she whispered in my ear.
Usma clapped and hugged Vespa. She had known Vespa for a long time and had only ever heard her sing in the bathroom. It didn’t matter when a song was written, truth in words were timeless. She just found more truth in the period she focussed on. The sincerity in her tone had me wishing she had written those songs, had me almost believing it.
“Are you serenading me?” I asked somewhat embarrassed.
“I’m trying.” She admitted.
Knowing she wanted me kept me on a leash, but hearing her confess it, gave me back some of the power I had lost over the last 24hrs. It was almost as if I was snapping out of a spell she had cast. She gave a discerning look as I straightened my previously hunched back.
“My son …” I blurted.
The sudden concern was in keeping with a fading poison. I derailed my fingers from Vespa and leaned away from her.
“Chill out bitch” Usma spoke like it was acceptable.
“Usma.” Vespa said sternly.
“Whatever. Sowie. I get excited.”
She came over and hugged me and pouted her lips. I leaned forward and met her lips with mine. The kiss was for apologies. She had a sharp beak and a pea sized brain and I would die before letting my son marry someone like her, but he could fuck her if he wanted.
Vespa’s face was like thunder when she saw us kiss because Usma was trying to interfere with her. Usma gave a sly grin and put her hands up halfway, and backed away. Vespa then turned to me, somewhat hurt and pissed off. Her jealous expression pushed me back down into her realm, and I was intoxicated; my momentary recovery, merely a temporary illusion. Or possibly a minutes awakening from comatose – waking up in the hospital bed at night, when no one was around to see that I was back. Only to be dragged away again. The devil could show such sights my local pastor would say. To hear him speak, you would not think he was a man of god, but something evil. He talked evil down like the lord wanted but had a tone on him and an expression that was contrary. Once, the power went in our home and he was passing by outside. Our house was outside of town but near the church, so I assumed he came by to check if we were okay. I looked down and caught him looking up. There was only enough light to see his outline. The creepy thing was he did not knock or ring the bell, he just stood looking up at me.
When I was young I got scared easily. I could sit up and stare at what I thought was something disfigured in my room, or around the house, for hours. I was afraid that if I moved or closed my eyes it would grab my feet and pull me away to some place where I could not scream.
I would stare in the hope that it would move but it never moved. Sometimes, I was brave and would turn on my lamp, only to find I was seeing things or that what I was afraid of for the last hour was a jacket on a chair, or some clothing hooked up by the door by a hanger.
Vespa was talking to Usma when I saw her hand was free – so I took it. We interlocked again. She was really pleased and a little bit apprehensive for a moment but I scooted up against her and all bad vibes were soon expelled.
“Can you smell that?” Usma said sniffing.
It was was a tad earthy.
She opened the door and there stood swamp thing!
“Didn’t you guys hear me?” My son said
Usma laughed and led him in. If he was mad it was hard to tell. The mud had encased him and his penis was looking very big under those layers. He looked down at it himself and then Usma wrapped her hand round it and stroked it. He jumped back a little in surprise.
“Son?” I called out.
He sidestepped the flirt Usma and trudged up to me.
“The girls want to stay over. Do you mind?”
“We only have one bed?” He reminded me.
“Then two of us can go back to they’re room … maybe you and Usma.” I suggested.
“Oh, and take a shower in Usma’s lodging.” I asked him.
There was no complaint and within a minute both were out of the door.
After we were finally alone, we decided to take a quick shower together, though I was still a bit shy and preferred if we soaped one another only. She could see my reservations come through on my stiff neck – it just would not relax while we there. She tried massaging my neck but the tension was too overpowering. We washed each other down quickly and rushed back to our room, all excited having really enjoyed soaping her pussy and ass. I praised the size of her vagina and slim figure but she a bit funny about me getting carried away.
“I … don’t like compliments.” She said with a red face.
I turned off the light and disrobed. She caught the outline of my body and gasped. Even though she had seen my naked body in the shower, the mood had changed. We had both shaken off the tension and were in the mood for love. She asked me to just pose for her for a bit and I tried some photo shoot favorites.
“I will try to think of compliments that do not embarrass you then.” I replied.
She opened the covers and I crawled in. She was skinny so it felt less cramped than when I slept with my son yesterday. The other difference was that we were both naked and huddling together and it was nice. I wondered if I would do that with my son?
Even though we huddled, I felt like she was holding me.
“You trust me already?” Vespa said breathing on me.
“Sometimes I am compelled to go by instinct.” I explained.
I shifted to face her. I hoped she would spit in my mouth again. I opened my mouth but she stroked my face and kissed my lower lip instead.
“Remember you said your mother spoke to strangers like she knew them?”
“What if she had met them all before when she was younger, except they looked different?”
“Like in another life perhaps?”
“Like … in the same life?”
“I don’t know.”
“What I’m trying to say is … you trust me so much already. We only met today.”
“How do you know we haven’t met before in this life, but I was someone else?”
“Not sure – like your local pastor? How do you know I’m not him?”
Her face took on many transformations in the darkness and my heart started to palpitate a little. Her very touch suddenly made me uneasy, when just moments ago I was lusting for it. I was where the beast wanted me; in its lair, under its control. Vespa was able to manipulate the shadows around her to change her form, and her personality. My mother had warned me about such things but I never listened. Still, even if Vespa was kidding around, I was not impressed.
“I can show you such sights my dear little Ashley.” A manly voice whispered.
I began to feel a bit strange after hearing that because I had heard it before in my youth, from a man who decided who was condemned and who was saved.
“No.” I muttered in a low hush, my neck beginning to stiffen.
I felt the pastor wrap his chords around my neck. He licked my nose and understood that if slavery transcended orientation, then necrophilia was in the same boat.
He shook me and then called my name again – told me he would be back.
I felt his lips against mine and they felt good.
“Baby you’re scaring me.” Vespa said.
It was Vespa. I turned on the light and touched her face.
“Its me honey. its me.”
“Can we keep the light on?” I requested.
“Of course you can sweetheart.” She pulled me into her and I wrapped my leg over hers. I hooked an arm over her back and rubbed my rug against hers. I desperately had to fuck Vespa.
We kissed each other gently and delicately for a long time. She tasted so sweet and was so horny it made me hornier.
“Lets shed some more light.” She said throwing off the covers.
She mounted me and I opened my legs out so she could press her trimmed rug against mine. She began pushing pussy on pussy and fucking me – slapping her vulva against mine. She rubbed and gyrated and lowered herself to plant wet kisses, sometimes even bite me.
“Tell me if I’m hurting you.” She whispered.
“I will.” I replied..
Vespa slammed her rug into me with great aggression and it made my pussy wet.