Debased on Base

She opened the door to the apartment, and outside stood a huge black man in uniform.

“Evening, ma’m. I have something to show you. May I come in?” The policeman seemed keyed up, on edge.

Isabelle’s heart thumped. What did he want? Was Herb dead? She stepped back silently.

The man brushed past her, into her living room. “Well, you see, ma’am, the thing is…” he paused. “Are your children here?”

“What is it?” She asked anxiously.

The man hesitated, and she saw his eyes glide over her thin, trim body, sheathed in only her underwear and wrap, before he produced a package from his breast pocket.

“What?” she asked again, irritably. Then she saw. The man’s hand held a photo of her, naked, kneeling in front of Chuck, her married lover of late.

She wheeled. “I want you to leave!” she gasped, her breath coming in short, whistling breaths.

The man sighed. “Okay, if you say so, ma’am. But if I do, I’ll have to show this to my supervisor. And he’ll probably have to remove you and your family from the base. Adultery is a crime in base housing. Not to mention oral sodomy.” He walked to the door again. “I was hoping we could come to an agreement, but…” He paused.

“Wait…” she whispered.  “What…what did you have in mind? Money?”

He smiled slightly, shook his head, walked back toward her, and stood looking at her silently, gauging her. After a moment, he put his hand on her breast. “I think we could work it out.” He closed the door, and motioned upstairs. “Kids up there?”

“Yes.” She shuddered.

“Find a sitter. Send ‘em to the neighbors. Or the park.” His hand traced her hip through the robe, already taking inventory. As his fingers slid under fabric and touched her skin, she jerked away.  “How dare you…!” she spat furiously.

“Well, lady, if that’s your answer…”  he grinned at her, and turned as if to leave. “Better start packin’…”

“No… wait!” she called desperately. He stopped, and looked at her. “Come back in half an hour,” she whispered miserably.

Half an hour later, she knelt, naked, on the floor, exactly as in the picture. The cop’s trousers lay beside him on the sofa, and he smiled in anticipation, as she tried to figure out what she could do with the huge looping rope of oiled black meat which he held out to her.

She touched the tip of it with her tongue, and it leapt higher.

“Go on.” He urged, his lips twisted in sadistic delight. Her lips stretched wide, she took it in gingerly, as far as she was able, then pulled back. Impatiently, he pressed the back of her head, and  thrust himself upward. Her throat closed, and she choked.

Slowly, he pulled it back, and she gaped in fearful fascination as it passed, serpentine and shining, through her straining lips and between her clenched fingers, trailing a rope of her saliva. God. Had she really taken that much of him in…?

Then he abruptly reversed direction and  thrust it swiftly at her again, pressing into her throat at last. She gagged reflexively, her eyes bugging and tearing as he pressed in yet further, opening her throat. She gulped as he began to rock, his pleasure evident. Her vision blurred, as he pressed in ever deeper, and the burning sensation made her cough around his swollen dick. She sobbed as he thrust, tears mixing with the drooling saliva spilling down her chin and neck.

Then, after an eternity, he pulled free and rose to his feet, pulling her up after him. “Okay. Bend over, Mrs. Solomon,” he directed. “We better get it over before your man gets home from work.”

“I can’t,” she whimpered. “It’s WAYYYY too big…!”

He smiled gently. “You’d be surprised what you can do when you put your mind to it.” Firmly, he guided her to the position he wanted. “Now, just try to relax,” he instructed, sliding his finger across her vagina,  thumbing her clitoris. “The more you relax, the more fun you’ll have. The less pain.”

His thick finger sank into her  deeply,  probing, then he inserted another. And another.

Unwilling, she felt herself lubricate nonetheless.

He took his massive penis in one hand, and spread her wide, sliding the engorged tip in between her pale thighs, and rode the cushion of her juices up into her slit. She gasped as his warm, thick cock parted her forcefully and pressed up, up, up, like a bulldozer brushing her puny tissues aside. Her cunt closed tightly around the invader, she groaned in her throat, arching backwards. He grabbed her  breasts, squeezing, and she chirped in pain. “Please stop….” she sobbed brokenly.

“Easy,  baby, I’m only half way in…” he thrust gaining another inch or two.

“Unnnhhh.!” She grunted, as the red-black bar of steel impaled her even more deeply, boring inexorably into her midsection. She swore she could feel him in her stomach, the dull ache of her organs being rudely repositioned as he made his way determinedly upward and inward.

Then, with a mighty lurch, she felt his swollen testicles touch her buttocks. “There!” he said triumphantly. “All the way in.” He rested,  panting, his scrotum swinging gently against her straining ass. “How’s it feel?” he asked curiously.

“Like a stabbing,” she said, crying softly. “Please, don’t make me do this. You’re hurting me…” she choked off.

He laughed, and began slowly to fuck her, his cock depressing and releasing her tissues at will. Gasping at sharp pains that caused in her abdomen, she stood, bent double, her hips touching the back of the couch, moaning whenever he pulled out completely before surging into her again. Like a brutal machine, he rode on, his penis a piston, her vagina a cylinder whose walls quaked with the strain, needing lubrication.

Then, roaring, he exploded inside her, his semen feeling like molten lava in her deepest recesses, and she screamed, bucking as he thrust brutally deeper in his excitement. Pain blossomed in front of her eyes, red flashes, furious flowers of white-hot pain. Bracing, she braved his ramrod thrusts as he finished spurting his bullets inside her violated body, until at last he pulled free to spew a last sticky shot across her tensed back. Shaking, every muscle overloaded with fatigue, she sagged forward across the couch, and he fell with her, breathing raggedly.

“Please,” she croaked, ” let me up?”

Groaning, he rolled aside. She got gingerly to her feet and tottered into the bathroom. A backward glance; he lay sagged across the couch, his eyes closed, chest heaving. His twitching penis lay on his thigh, diminished but still reaching halfway to his knee. She ducked through the door, and sank onto the toilet, where she remained until she heard him leave.

Then, eyes glazed, she began, slowly, to massage vaseline into her reddening cunt, gingerly touching the abused, abraded tissues, grimacing with the pain, until she suddenly, unexpectedly, found herself coming furiously, humping helplessly up and down on the toilet ring, crying with frustration and shame.

Untitled musings, pt. 1

…then he stuck his two fingers up inside me, and played around, kind of silly and high school-ish, but sexy at the same time, touching some good spots in there, like he knew what he was doing.

I just wanted his cock inside me. It didn’t matter where, in my pussy, my mouth, my… ass…

I just wanted to feel it pulsating inside me, pushing its way insistently inside my body, taking me over and bending me to its will.

That’s the way I think of it — Its will. Not his.

He’d said being stoned made him want sex. He mentioned it in passing, just explaining to me why he was so hesitant to smoke weed when with a group of friends. I like weed, but it has very specific uses for me. It’s good for creative writing — alone. It’s good for playing music, also alone. Or with a band, improvising. It helps if everyone else is stoned. And it’s good for sex.

He grinned, blushed.

Hmmm… so if you was to get hard right now, it wouldn’t be because you found me sexy, or because I was down here on my knees getting ready to blow you, it would just be the weed, right?

You… want to blow me…

You damn right.

He chose my cunt.

Oh, God, I knew you would feel like that.

Like what?

Like… you just fit everything inside me, just perfect. Like we’re perfect mirrors of each other in reverse.

When later, he chose my ass, it felt much the same way.

I told him he was my first.

It’s good, baby, I said in response to his anxious watching face, looming above mine. He’d insisted we do it this way if it was my first; less painful, he said.

It did feel good, despite the discomfort of having my legs on my shoulders. He didn’t compare in size to my father’s friends, but I hadn’t been very big back then either; both organs had changed in size and length, but they somehow still fit much better, tighter, created more friction.

Later I found out that the tissues inside a woman’s vagina swell when she’s really aroused. That explains how his cock felt in my cooter, but in my booter…?

He’d been the first since I was a kid, so that was some kind of virginity prize, I think.

He filled every crevice there just right, too.

I think he took it back, erased things, made it mine again. It didn’t belong to my daddy’s drunk friends anymore, back in the islands. Is that possible?

I think this is all I ever want again. I’ve had a thousand, but this one was made for me.

Is that possible?

Our Jeffrey, or Too Good

Nicole came into my office Thursday morning, moving stiffly, tired but smiling.

She sat gingerly, grimacing as her butt made contact with the chair. I raised my eyebrows.

“Mmmmm…Jeffrey was over last night,” she explained.

I nearly choked on my coffee. “Our Jeffrey?” I gestured toward the hallway; his office was just down the corridor.

She nodded.

“…and you…?”

“…had anal. Yes.” She blushed. “Up ‘til the wee hours. That man’s sex drive is pretty impressive.”

In a discussion about Sex and the City a few weeks ago, a bunch of us girls had talked about it, but no one was willing to admit to having ever done it. Nicole hadn’t said much, I recalled.

“Wow. Never done it. Is it…hot?”

“It’s… interesting. Hurts, especially at first. But… he wanted it pretty bad. Said I had a great badonkadonk, and he wanted a piece of it. I think it’s funny when white boys use words like that.” She grinned, then grimaced again. “I like it when he’s excited. He just gets me hot with the way he touches me, so forceful, so demanding. Like there’s no way I am going to refuse him anything… and I never do.”

I was starting to think maybe it hadn’t been her first time.

“Do you enjoy being … fucked in the ass, though?”

“Oh, yeah. It feels naughty and dirty and he’s hard as a rock… When he’s on top of me or behind me thrusting, taking what he wants without asking, it’s… too good. A real turn-on.”

I squirmed. “Oh yeah? Tell me. How does it turn you on?”

“Well, it’s not all physical. I want to be wanted, and to be dominated is hot, although I never knew I wanted it until he just fuckin’ did it to me.”

“How… else does he dominate you?”

I slid back in my chair and felt the silk of my pants rub across the folds in the leather, nudging me pleasantly. On a whim, I hadn’t worn panties this morning. But as I got up and moved to the front of my desk to sit on the corner and lean closer so she could speak more quietly, I had the thought that maybe I should have. There was a wet spot on the silk.

“He … makes me kneel and beg for his cock in my mouth. I don’t really like it when he starts moving, like he’s fucking my mouth, going deep in my throat, grabbing my head. I get off on swallowing his come, because it’s hot to be told what to do, to be ordered, like I have no choice. Sometimes I actually get myself off just by thinking about that.”

I noted her nipples, pressing her top like marbles. I wasn’t sure if they had been that way when she came in, but I didn’t think so. Was she getting hot talking about this? I wondered. It seemed I was.

She was exciting me and repelling me at the same time.

I’d had no idea she was even interested in him. He didn’t seem like her type, the pretty white boy, sweet but slightly spacey, like he was stoned a lot.

Her legs shifted and I caught a quick whiff of sex. I felt myself suddenly get even wetter, slicker, and I knew the chances of getting behind the desk unnoticed were few.

I leaned forward to cover the growing spot on my slacks, and surreptitiously sniffed the air. She rose a bit just then so my face was uncomfortably near her crotch, and then I was inhaling deeply, the rich vapors filling my nose and head.

Her eyes widened. “What the fu…? Girl, you need to explain yourself.”

Before I could stop myself, I slid my hand up her solid thigh and under her dress. My fingers touched wiry hair, poking around her panties.

Her breasts heaved and she panted. “Girl, you need…” she began again, and then choked off with a strangled sound when my warm fingers pulled aside the silk and pressed through the thicket into her slick, steamy cunt. Then my thumb found her clitty. “Oh, God…” She lifted her hips off the chair and shoved her groin at me, and I found myself sinking to my knees, my tongue following my hands.

My lips met her halfway and I sucked her clit into my mouth. “Oh, fuck,” she said softly and began to ride my chin as my fingers slid up into her. The deep musky smell of ripe pussy — recently fucked? — overpowered me.

“Did he…” I asked breathlessly, “put his dick in here, too?”

She grabbed my head and pulled it back down. “Of course. I need that more than the other… and he didn’t give me near enough. So you’re gonna have to finish what you start. Hope you know what you’re doing.”

 

I didn’t. I’d never even seen another woman’s sex up close before, outside of porns. But I could taste him there, or I imagined I could. Her cunt tasted mainly like salt, oily, almost fishy, redolent of rain-dampened wool left to dry improperly in a closet. But the idea of eating her after his cock had been in there was as hot as anything I could imagine, and I gobbled her madly, licking her like a large gamy fruit, a mango, maybe, whose juices ran down my chin as I chewed… Soon, she went over the top with a cry, braced rigid against the chair, and my face filled with the oily, frothy thrusting prickliness of her orgasm.

She relaxed. “Good Lord, Sarena. I never knew you even had dyke tendencies. Warn a girl, why don’t you?” She gasped.

“I didn’t… don’t … really…” I said, also out of breath. “I don’t know… I just got hot at the thought of licking you after he…”

She grinned. “I guess. Well,” she lit a cigarette and exhaled a white cloud.

I wanted one too, but knew better. They always smelled better than they tasted. Pussy wasn’t like that. Its taste was all smell and feel.

“Did you taste him in my pussy?”

“I… smelled him on you. Not sure about the taste, but I think so. Kinda.”

She stared a minute. “So you know how he tastes.”  She rose. “You fucking him too, huh?”

I sank back on my heels. She moved in, towered over me, her thick black thighs thrust forward near my face. “He puts his thick dick in that little hairless baby cunt of yours?”

I nodded.

She looked angry for a second. “Why that motherfucker…!” Then she shook her head and laughed.

“So you wanted to taste his juice in my cooter, huh?”

I nodded.

“Like it?”

I nodded again.

“Well, you know… he never came in my cunt last night,” she said. “It’s a wonder you didn’t want to lick my ass.” She chuckled. “You want to rim my ass, too?”

I shook my head.

She suddenly grasped my face and pushed me backward to the floor, her mouth inches from mine, her body utterly dominating mine. “You sure?” she said huskily, and then thrust her tongue into my mouth. Her hands pawed my tiny breasts and her wiry pubic hair rubbed my groin through my clothes. I nodded.

She reached behind and yanked my pants down over my ass. “He fuck your little baby ass, too, girlfriend?” she said, her finger touching my left cheek and moving into the crease.

Nicole slips in and out of ‘street’ idiom at will; I think she does it to mess with us bourgeois white kids.

I shook my head again.

“No?” she said.

“No,” I answered softly. “He probably wants to. He looks at it a lot. But he’s never asked.”

“Huh,” she sniffed. “You want him to?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m sort of turned on by the idea, especially when you talked about it just now, but I don’t know if it would feel good in reality. He’s so big…”

“And you’re so tiny.” She pressed the flat of her thumb against my anus and I moaned involuntarily. I was both scared she’d push it in and afraid she might not.

She laughed and stood suddenly, pulling her thumb free, and then straddled me the other way, 69-style, her large hairy crotch a foot above my head, inverted. She lowered her head and licked my vagina experimentally. “I’ve never eaten pussy before,” her voice breathless and muffled. “Yours is pretty.” She thrust her hands under my ass, lifted me easily and stuck her hard tongue into me, rammed it deep, as if fucking me with it. It felt a lot like a small cock, until she flexed her tongue inside me, snaking it about, touching crevices that had never been stimulated. I moaned loudly and she began to lap me, sliding her broad tongue across it and then ramming it down inside me, twitching it about. I felt her hit my G spot effortlessly, then the A spot, and soon I was hers to do with what she wanted. She took me to the edge and toyed with me, held me there. I heard her say something against my groin, and then she lowered herself to my chin.

I licked, sucked, chinned her soaking and reeking snatch, but she wanted more. I thought I knew what.

I refused.

She stopped, and I felt the awesome delayed orgasm begin to recede. “Oh, no, Nicole, I’d love to, but I can’t,” I wheedled. “I’ll do anything but lick your ass…” I touched my right index finger to her anus and pushed hard, and she stiffened.

“Make a fist,” she said.

“What…?”

“Make a fist. Left hand.”

“O..k.” I balled up my hand.

“Show me.”

I held my fist down near my cunt so she could see it from her angle above me.

She grunted with approval. “A nice little baby fist. Make it hard and…fuck me with it,” she panted.

“In your…?”

“My pussy, silly girl.” She made a sound of irritation.

I put my fist against her inflamed slippery vulva, and pressed, the heat and the muscle taking over and squeezing, pulling me in to my forearm. She moaned and her body above me shook.

“Now… move it!” she ordered. She rocked her body to get the motion started and soon I was fucking her with my arm, my finger on the bud of her ass.

“Oh, Lord,” she said and began to lash my clit wildly, plunging her hard tongue into me, turning my insides to liquid, quickly heating. “It’s… too good.”

The orgasm washed over us both simultaneously, mine producing the kind of clenching spurting intensity that happened once in a blue moon, with him more often than anyone, usually after a healthy dose of some sort of hallucinogenic.

Hers led her to clamp her muscles round my forearm almost painfully as she came, spasm after spasm of forceful milking wetness bathing my arm inside her. I held still for a minute then decided to use my instincts, ramming deep inside her like I liked a cock to do when I was coming, and she clearly loved it. Then I decided to see if I could open my hand inside her, and almost had it when she froze and screamed. “Ohhhhhh…Dear Jesus. Ohhh, fuckety-fuckety-fucccckkkkkkk…”

I thrust my thumb into her ass, and she jerked, so I added my index finger for good measure before she finally begged for me to stop.

“You kinky little cracker bitch,” she said when she had caught her breath. “that was hot as hell. You made me come like a real whore. I owe you…” she stopped, and a naughty smile stole across  her face.

She dropped her head again, out of sight. I felt her hands on me again, under my thighs. lifting my butt off the floor, and her tongue slid down across my cunt again. She lowered her cunt to just above my face, effectively pinning me to the floor. Then her hard tongue made its way into my butt, pushing just inside and stopping. I froze, and she pulled out, then in again, slowly working my ass. It felt delicious and naughty, beyond anything I’d ever felt. Then a thick finger pushed slowly into my cunt, joined by another. “Oh, my fucking God,” I whispered. “Oh, Nicole. Make me come, you beautiful whore. Make me come. Make me come!”

“I’ll let you in a minute,” she said with a laugh, but it was too late.

When she stuck her tongue inside me again, over the edge I went, into a land where I’d never been before. I’d never had an orgasm that felt like this, this nasty and this good. It was like your first hit of Ex and your first orgasm, all wrapped up in one. It took so long to unwind that it felt like time was broken.

When I came back, Nicole was cradling me in her arms, nuzzling my neck.

“You’ll want it in your junior-sized ass now, little cracker,” she said gently. “I got you all ready for a cock in that cute little pooty-hole.”

Her hands kneaded my butt gently. “Ummm hmmm. I can see that big thick rod opening up your little bumhole wide. And you will fuckin’ love it,” she predicted confidently. “It’ll be too good.”

**

It was a few weeks later that I finally got the nerve to ask him. The prospect of that thick stout cock pressing into my tender ass, maybe tearing me open, scared me almost more than it excited me.

Almost. Some nights the thought of something big and determined, forcing its way into my vitals, crudely, almost angrily, made me come harder than I ever had, until I saw spots dancing in front of my eyes.

I knew I needed to try it, even if I might regret it.

I waited until one of the nights he’d smoked a big fat joint and was huge, hard and reefer-ready to fuck me.

That was in response to Nicole’s instructions. “You want it hard as it’s gonna get,” she said. “Might seem like the bigger it is, the worse it hurts, but bigger isn’t the worst thing. Half-soft hurts more. Pulls, tugs, burns.”

He was hard. Like steel. His cock gets so rigid when he smokes weed, it seems to get bigger. The  ganjaerection, he calls it.

His cockhead vibrated with lust, wanted me like a drug.

My butt quivered with fear…and curiosity.

“How would you feel about us doing some anal?” I asked casually.

His eyes, reddened though they were, brightened. He nodded his head, hard.

He wanted me over the bed, bent over. I felt him press his thumb against my anus, nudge inside slowly, and then rotate slowly, adding a finger. Inside me, things started to happen, a deep rumble of warmth, an almost uncomfortable fullness, actually right on the cusp of too much and just right. He held me there for awhile. suspended, and then he pressed in deeper… deeper…

Suddenly, a spot he touched switched it over into white-hot, clenching pain, and just as suddenly I was in the grip of an animal hunger, a need to be used, to be at someone’s mercy, their toy; my pain, their pleasure. When he held still, I rammed myself back on his hand, skewering myself on his hand.

It felt amazingly nasty, like something we knew better than to do, but did anyway. It burned inside me, and I moved off it, then missed it terribly as soon as it was gone.

He chuckled stonedly. “I guess you’re ready for the real thing.”

Another squirt of lube and he lined up behind me, hunkering down, pressing his cockhead gently between my cheeks, being the careful cocksman. I wanted this fast, before I could change my mind and chicken out. “Do it!” I panted and thrust back impatiently, wanting to feel him inside me, and damn the hurt.

Crave the hurt, actually. I pressed myself upon his cock, felt it shoving my anus open rudely, and pulled about a third of it up into me, when suddenly it widened considerably, wedging me open from within, and the pain was exquisite. “Oh, dear Lord,” I chirped, scared out of my wits at what I was doing to myself. Slightly off balance for a second, Jeffrey quickly recovered and, catching my urgency, seized my ass in his hands, shoved me forward until my forehead touched the bed, and took over, ramming the rest of that thick rounded missile into my virgin ass, banging it in to the hilt.

The pain-filled lightning that roared through my head like a freight train went straight to my clit and was transformed into energy, and my hands leaped to catch it, clasping my crotch and rubbing in a frenzy. I’d never been one to masturbate hard, but this called for a new rule, and harder was better. The orgasm welled, grew huge and yet held off, bolstered by the feeling of that thick piece of hot, metal-hard meat buried in my tiny, pale virgin ass.

And he was so not taking it easy on me. After the way I’d shoved my ass at him, who could blame him for assuming this was not my first time? He thrust hard inside, hammering me open and pounding me like the experienced anal fancier he had apparently take me for, burying his thick tool in me to the hilt again and again… and again… as I gasped and tried to form the words to stop him . No, oh, no, no, please…!

But I don’t think it would have worked even if I had. He was in the grip of a monster lust, a crazy, stoned automatic fucking machine that was barely aware of me as a person; I was just a place to slam his swollen cock, a receptacle for his boiling sperm.

When he came, I came with him, sobbing, begging, the words finally freed by the monstrous wave of pleasure that washed over me, hot and prickly, making me feel like I had a fever. “Ohbabyohbabyohbabyoh…fuck,” I sobbed the words. “Fuck the hell out of me, fuck me, fuck me more…”

He did. Oh, God, did he.

When I walked in the next morning, Nicole was the first person I saw. Watching me gingerly negotiate the door and sit carefully, she grinned knowingly.

“Too good, girl,” she said softly as she poured us both coffee. “Welcome to the club.”

The word seemed appropriate. It felt this morning like that’s what he’d rammed into me the night before, a club.

But I also knew that I was going to go back for more. She was right; it was too good.

The Storm, pt. 1

 Delayed for a month, winter descended  with a vengeance. I was at work, and not really aware of it, but the lights did flicker in the computer room as the main power died and the generator took over. I didn’t know how bad it was until I walked out to the car.

The wet snow had created some very high drifts before turning to rain. As it came down, it had begun to freeze, and the trees, wires, etc. were covered by a shining coat of icicles. The morning sun, just rising, shone thru making them almost pretty. I decided I could probably get home, but I was unprepared for the slipperiness of the roads once I got outside of town.

I was able to negotiate the main roads if I went slowly enough, but the back roads were another story. I crawled along until I approached the first hill, and could not seem to get a purchase. I backed up, and tried to get some speed, but to no avail. Rear-wheel drive just didn’t cut it. I knew  I had two more hills to go. I was just about to give up when a truck approached from the other direction, and stopped.

Two men got out and pushed my car up the hill. They advised me to park in the next driveway I saw, and I followed their advice, thinking they would offer to drive me home, since I was only a few miles away. But as I locked the car, and got out, I saw them get in the truck and drive away.

Son of a bitch.

Or two, actually. But wouldn’t that be “sons of a bitch” versus “son of a bitches”?

So I walked. The rain increased, and I began to get quite wet and cold. When the next vehicle came up from behind and stopped, I got in, shivering.

The driver, a pleasant-looking middle-aged black man, asked how far I was going. I told him and he said he’d drive me home, even though he lived right around the next corner. He handed me a paper towel, and I soaked it wiping my face. “Pretty wet to be out there today, huh?” he noted. I nodded, shivering. The truck’s heater blew warm air across my wet face. Great, I’ll smell like a dog.

As he rounded the next curve, we both saw the branches in the road. He stopped and we checked to see if we could move them. They covered an electric cable which also lay in the road. Regretfully, he turned around.

“I guess we should go back to my house to use the phone,” he said, “Your husband will be worried and I need to call my wife, and tell her not to leave work. It’s too dangerous.” That made sense, I could ask Tom to meet me at the tree. Maybe I could walk around it, miss the wire?

When we got to the house, the man picked up the phone to call his wife. It was dead. He decided to see if he could figure out where the line was broken. Then he noticed my shivering, and noted how wet I still was, and he suggested I go into the bathroom and dry off, while he was working. I did so, gratefully.

“Take a warm shower if you need to,” he called over his shoulder, “And throw your wet clothes in the dryer. It’s right in the bathroom. I may be awhile.” I did, and the water felt heavenly. I felt in no danger, since I’d locked the door, and I took my time. The bath had a pretty serious array of bath oils, and I got out of the shower for a second, leaving the water running, to try them out. I was sampling one of them, standing naked in front of the mirror rubbing it over myself when there was a short knock, then the other door, the one which I’d not noticed, the one which presumably led to a bedroom, opened, and a hand holding a dressing gown reached into the room.

“Here, you’ll need this….. while your…. clothes dry,” he trailed off, seeing me standing there in the nude, rubbing the oils into my thighs, as if masturbating.

We were both quite aware of the scent of my body, as we stood speechless and stared at each other for a very long moment.

I was humiliated, but sensed that he really hadn’t planned this; he’d thought that the shower running meant I’d be in it.  Still…he’d stripped off his wet clothes as well, and stood bare-chested in his gym shorts.

I noted a flush rising under his tanned skin, and a bulge rising in his shorts. Unable to look in his eyes, I looked down and saw his taut stomach, his large hands, and his cute, rounded tush.

As I finally met his gaze, he suddenly stepped forward, as if propelled by an involuntary force, and lifted me bodily, carrying me into the adjoining bedroom, pinning my arms to my sides. His breath came in ragged gasps, his excitement taking him over.

Incredibly, so was mine. I could hear my own harsh breathing, as he lowered me onto the bed on a pile of pillows, and parted my legs with his knee. He paused for a minute to pull off his shorts, freeing his impressive penis, which he took in his hand and guided it between my wet, greasy thighs. I watched in the dresser mirror over his shoulder as he entered me slowly and deliciously, stretching my pussy wide, filling me completely, his gentle movements a huge turn-on. It felt massively, excitingly big.

This was technically a rape, since I hadn’t consented to any of this, but I hadn’t protested or fought either. I didn’t scream, unable to believe it was real and not some bizarre daydream. I wasn’t sure if he would’ve gone any further if I had protested, but I thought he might’ve been just as unable to stop himself as I was. It just was not in my nature to resist too violently if someone was determined to have sex with me. It would not kill me, I thought. Unconsciously, I think I wanted to be ‘raped,’ if it could be relatively non-threatening. I know that my rape fantasies were some of my best, but I never intended to provoke a rape, knowing that the reality would probably be very different.

Anyway, he wasn’t asking.

His tanned buttocks contrasted starkly with my white legs, and from my position on that huge pile of pillows, I could occasionally see his long black penis as it pulled out of my pale thighs, only to be buried again. It was a very erotic sight, and I could feel my body responding, saw it rise up to meet him as I watched his dark hands grip my pale cheeks for leverage to drive that thing harder and harder into me. I felt my groin tingle as his crotch rubbed and ground my clitoris, and he groaned as my muscles responded by gripping him tighter. I could feel the hard thick head of his cock deep, deep within me, thrusting into areas which had not been stroked by a man before.

His chest hair scratched at my breasts, and my nipples hardened immediately. A moan in my throat, I dug my nails into his buttocks, pulling him into me, and thrust back. He grunted in surprise and rose up to thrust even deeper and I felt the unmistakeable stirring, a huge orgasm building as he stroked my inner depths and his crotch bumped deliciously into mine. I felt him start as my muscles clamped tightly around his cock, and it swelled huge, plunging deep into me and setting off an unbelievable burn. I listened to a voice groaning low, deep in the throes of passion, and realized it was me.  He thrust in one more time and froze, holding himself rigid, his cock in me to the hilt, and I wriggled under him to a fantastic explosion. He collapsed onto me, cock still buried in me and his sperm ebbed out, filling me, spreading over my thighs and onto the bed in a sticky mess.

I waited until we’d both gotten our breath back somewhat, and he rolled off, then I asked “So, what’s your name?”

He rose on his elbows to look into my face, and didn’t respond right away.

“Okay,” I said. “I guess I’ll just have to call you ‘Mr. Rapist’. I always wanted a zipless fuck.”

He grinned, embarrassed, but game. “Okay. I’m Terrence, and I’ll be your rapist this evening.”

Chapter Two

As the passion cooled, the steam we’d generated dissipated, leaving me feeling a bit limp. My companion seemed somewhat embarrassed by it all as well. We sat without speaking for awhile, his hand idly stroking my breast. Unable to break the silence, I looked into the mirror, as his dark hand, lowering to my thigh, was caught framed against my shockingly pale midsection. It had been a long time since I’d tanned.

In the mirror, his dark body glowed with a sheen of perspiration. I’d never seen a black person naked before. Somehow his penis, though flaccid, did not seem to shrink to insignificance when limp the way so many white ones did. Intrigued and eager for something to do, I cupped it in my palm. The stickiness of sperm and my own juices covered my hands, and I rose, going to bathroom to wash them. I saw him watching me in the mirror, his eyes lingering on my buttocks, and I tingled as I always did when men viewed me as an object.

After returning to bedroom with a wet washcloth, I gently rinsed the sperm from his pubic hair, and where it had puddled around his sac, his penis responding immediately to the warm water, stretching, hardening.

I took him gently into my mouth, wondering how in the world I would manage. This was a porn-movie cock, and I was sort of clueless about how to work it. He pressed in welcoming the feel of my mouth, but held back, and I was grateful. In my mouth it grew some more.

He stopped, took the cloth from my hand and gently swabbed my pubic mound before dipping into my vagina and removing all traces of him.

His large callused fingers lingered on my outer lips, gently probing in, and again I felt the unmistakeable signs of arousal. Softly, I took his penis again, and felt it become firm in my hand, as he pushed me back onto the bed, and I watched in the mirror as he lowered his head to my chest. I closed my eyes, feeling his tongue circle my areole softly, as his hand cupped my other other full breast, his palm brushing across the nipple slowly teasing it to erectness.

I fondled his stiffening penis, reaching under him to cup his testicles, and he caught his breath. Then I felt his hand cup my groin, and I spread my legs, preparing myself for his entry.

It did not come.

His fingers traced my lips, dipping into my vagina and probing, and his thumb found my clitoris. As he pressed and prodded, I felt myself responding quickly, my buttocks twitching and jerking. Suddenly I felt an orgasm building again, and then he stopped.

“Why….?” I gasped, opening my eyes.

In the doorway stood a muscular young black man, his eyes frozen on both of us. “Son,” Terrence said softly. “This is not what it looks like…”

Expressionless, the young man turned and walked away. “I believe it is exactly what it looks like,” he said over his shoulder.

Terrence jumped up and stared after him. “What…? What should I…?”

I had no response. How could I tell him his son was also my personal trainer?