1 comments/ 13055 views/ 1 favorites Consummation By: Sia I woke up abruptly. The boom of my heart was thudding in my chest, and I was damp with sweat all over. "Jesus!" I exclaimed softly and looked around wildly. Where was I? Dazed, I scrubbed my face with my hands and looked around at the dark room. Oh. That's right. I was in Derek's house. Shit. I'd loved Derek ever since we were teenagers. We grew up together since our parents had been close friends, but his parents had divorced when we were eight. I didn't see him then for several years, but when we met again at 16 it was love at first sight. For me, love was all those things you always hear about: electricity, nerves, bliss, and an occasional odd but very pleasant feeling of sinking into a warm bath. He told me he loved me, and for a while it was wonderful. After a while, being 16 and consequently stupid, I said I wanted to end it and see other people. He was disappointed, but agreed, saying he had seen it coming too. Over the years in between, I'd been with other people, particularly in college, but nothing important ever came of my experimentation. It was only Derek who would come back to my thoughts again and again. Everything would be going along normally, and then one day I'd get one of his infrequent calls, as we did stay loosely in touch. Or I'd dream of him some night and the cycle of thinking of him and daydreaming of him would start again. We'd never even slept together, but he was the closest thing to a lover I had in my life. Nobody else had ever touched my soul the way he had. At times that fact drove me nuts, since our relationship—for lack of a better word—was so unstable. I wished that either we could get together or that I could finally just move on...that one way or another things would finally be resolved between us. Last week he'd called me, and as we were catching up on the phone, he told me that he had moved back to his hometown, just a couple hours away from me. He invited me to come up and stay the weekend and since it had been three years since I last saw him, I agreed eagerly. Now, here I was in his house with him sleeping just across the hall. I felt a hard punch of lust, and got this nearly overpowering urge to go in his room and get into bed with him. It felt like what I imagined junkies went through in withdrawal: an overwhelming need for the object of your desire, feverish body temperature, shaking all over. But I felt constrained. In some ways I felt closer to Derek than anyone in the world, but I could also feel him keeping me at a distance. I sat back against the headboard and my recent thoughts about us ran through my head again. I am very open and direct with most people and Derek was no exception, but he was much more reserved than me. He was an excellent listener, but rarely spoke about what he was feeling. Both of us were single, were living within a reasonable distance of each other to make a relationship a possibility and I knew neither of these facts had escaped either of us. But Derek had gotten out of a serious relationship not long ago, and I knew he'd been badly scarred by it. I didn't know if he still had feelings for me, and if so if he was ready to act on them. I wasn't even sure what exactly I wanted ultimately. With all this confusing me, I was at a loss for what to do. Deciding that I at least had to get out of this room, I thought I'd go onto the back deck for some fresh air. I was still hot from thrashing around in my sleep and the sheets were crumpled and clingy. I straightened them so they could air out, opened the window to let some air in, and then went out into the hall. Derek's door was on my way to the sliding glass doors at the end of the hall, and I couldn't help pausing before it, but after a few moments of fierce longing, I sighed and slipped out into the night. It was a perfect night to be out here with someone else, I realized wryly. The air was balmy with just enough coolness to it and mist snaked through the woods that I could see from the deck. Taking a few slow deep breaths calmed me down a lot and took the edge off my fever. The air felt so good and fresh, and I thought about stripping off my nightshirt. Nobody would see me since the deck faced only the woods. The nearest neighbors were a couple of miles away. "What the hell," I thought. "Go on Gwen, be a bad girl for a change." I ripped it off, dropping it in a heap beside me. Mmmmm. That felt really good. I reached my arms above my head, leaning backwards and stretching luxuriously. A good stretch is almost the next best thing to good sex in my opinion. I was so hot that I could actually see steam very faintly coming off my skin. The nape of my neck was sweaty too, so I ran my hand over it and shook my hair out. As I was massaging my neck, I realized that despite the cooler air on my naked skin I was getting hot inside again, and the lust was creeping back up. The urge to go in and take advantage of Derek in his sleep seemed to be under control though, so I mentally relaxed. The night breeze caressed me, thin wisps of air brushing me all over. I let my own hands do likewise, and caressed myself. I was covered with light goosebumps, but I was drinking in the fresh air, slaking my skin-thirst. My nipples were initially puckered from the chill, but when I ran my hands over them, my arousal had them swollen and sticking out. I tweaked them and closed my eyes to let myself enjoy the sensations that rippled through my body. Particularly an increasingly deep throbbing between my thighs, a strong desire to be fucked. Slowly, my hand crept down and into the heat between my legs, tracing the slickness between my nether lips. That light touch made me shiver and moan quietly, as I continued stroking myself, coaxing more wetness forth. Touching myself like this, and as powerfully aroused as I was, I couldn't help but think of Derek. I said his name aloud, hardly more than a low moan. At that, I heard a sharply indrawn breath behind me, and I opened my eyes and whirled around. Standing no more than three feet away from me in the soft dark night was Derek, staring at me, also naked, and breathing almost as hard as I was. I had no idea what to say or do. We both stood there frozen, and then I recognized the look in his dark eyes. Shock was there, yes, but it didn't take long for me to recognize the need and lust that was there as well. In the few seconds we stared at each other, motionless, it seemed like time stood still as well, and it was in that brief pause that I realized that it didn't matter whether we wanted a relationship, or how he felt about me. I didn't care. It all came down to the fact that we needed to do this, to consummate a relationship that had been years in the developing. What happened afterwards didn't matter. Locking eyes with him, I took a deliberate step forward. A light flared in his eyes like a match being struck, and before I even saw him move he had picked me up and I was crushed against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders. I tilted my face up to his as he kissed me hungrily. His hands slid from my waist down to my ass, and pulled me even closer against him so that his swelling cock nestled between the folds of my hot and wet pussy. I purred when I felt him down there, and started rubbing against him. His response was a deep growl as his hands tightened on my ass and he kissed me harder, biting my lip. Derek turned around abruptly and headed for his bedroom, carrying me. When we got there, he kicked the door shut with his foot, and sank down on the bed with me now straddling his lap. I leaned forward to kiss him again, but he held me still as he leaned forward and sank his teeth into my neck. "I can smell your pussy," he whispered, and then slid his tongue up the side of my neck and around the outer edge of my ear. I stiffened in response. He pulled back and suckled hard on my nipples, watching my face the whole time. "You're really wet, Gwen. All hot and slick. Tell me you want me," he went on in his low voice, as he slid a finger between my lips but not inside me yet. I stiffened more and moaned. He kept stroking me there gently and whispered, "Tell me, Gwen," as he sucked a nipple and worked his way up to my neck. "Yesss, Derek," I got out, faintly. He finally kissed me on the lips again. "Good girl." He resumed kissing me, slipping a finger all the way inside me just as he slid his tongue into my mouth. It had been a while since I'd been with anyone and Derek's fingers—like the rest of him—were large. I gasped into his mouth at the feeling. I felt him smile and he responded by slowly adding another finger. It was very tight as I felt the rough skin of his fingers caressing inside my slick tunnel. He took his time, deliberately going slow and watching me as he worked on my nipples, my neck, and my mouth as he fingered me. The combination of my long-repressed feelings and desires for Derek and the fact that he knew exactly what to do to me had my entire body going berserk, all systems on overload. I felt myself building to the biggest climax of my life, so intense that it scared me, but there was no possible way that I could have stopped it. I bit down on my lip so hard it hurt to hold back the screams I wanted to let loose, but Derek wasn't deceived by my silence. "Don't hold it back, Gwen. Let me hear what I'm doing to you," he murmured before he kissed my bruised lips again. He then began to use his thumb on my clit, swirling in slow circles as he continued sliding his fingers in and out of me, brushing my spot. That pushed me well over the edge, and I fell hard. I came, louder and longer than ever before in my life and finally trailed off, panting and sobbing. Before I had time to collect my blown senses, Derek pulled his hand away and put his hands firmly on my hips. He pulled me straight down onto his huge hard cock just as he kissed me again. Still feeling the aftershocks of my first orgasm, I went rapidly into the second at the feel of him stretching me so full, and I started screaming again. Finally taking some action, I clutched his shoulders for support and rode him hard as he continued to pull my hips roughly against him. He growled softly in my ear, "All these years, this is what you always wanted, isn't it Gwen? You wanted me slamming deep inside you just like this, didn't you? Didn't you?" "Yes! Yes, I fucking wanted you, all right?" I screamed, as I clawed his back, which made him draw in his breath, hissing. "That's it." He pulled my hips down again and ground my body against him as he rolled over on top of me. I locked my legs around his waist as he linked his fingers through mine and held my hands down. I expected him to keep fucking me the way we had been, hard and rough, how I wanted it...but he didn't do that. Instead, he started moving in and out of me just a fraction of an inch at a time, watching the absolute torture on my face as he did it. I was squirming as much as I could with him on top of me, pinning me down, but it had no effect on him except to make him smile. He kissed me again, slow and deep and intimate, then whispered in my ear again. "Tell me what you're feeling, Gwen." I could barely form the words. "I...ah...it feels..." He took my neck in a long sucking bite, making me gasp and squeeze my eyes shut. "Tell me, baby." Then he slammed into me hard, all the way up to the hilt. Shocked out of my taut, squirming silence, I sucked in a breath and screamed: "Oh God, Derek! It feels so fucking good!" He paused, buried deep in my pussy. "Do you want me to keep going?" "YES!! Jesus Christ, don't stop!" Kissing me again, he began a steady rhythm. Not the slow torture of a few minutes before, and not the sanity-shattering coupling that I wanted, but rather, he rocked inside me as if he were savoring me. There was no sense of urgency, but it wasn't mechanical by any means...it was a sustaining of these incredible sensations at just the right pitch. All the while he looked in my eyes and I couldn't look away. I was trapped by the force of his gaze, and that, combined with him finally making love to me like this, holding nothing back, made me more his slave than anything else he had done that night. After a long time of this drawn-out, sensitive, sensuous pleasuring, I felt myself approaching orgasm once again, and I gripped his hands tighter. Derek sensed it, and began moving faster, finally building up to his own climax. He squeezed my hands in response, pinning me down harder, thrusting faster and deeper. He finally closed his eyes and a look came over him that suggested unbearable pain but I knew it meant he was about to come. I stopped fighting my own orgasm and slid into it effortlessly, the force of it rocking through me in waves, just coming and coming, as I cried out my pleasure. My hips slamming against him and my pussy squeezing down on his cock were all it took to make Derek join me. As his entire body went rigid, he buried himself in me as deep as he could and he started coming. His eyes snapped open, looking wild and unrestrained as I felt the first spurt inside me. Shaking all over, he stayed inside me, not moving, just holding on to me as hard as he could, pressing against me as he filled me. Through my ecstasy I heard him say, "Gwen, oh god..." Consummation I was walking down the path to her house, using the address I'd gotten from her sister to surprise her with a birthday present back in April. Nothing big-just a CD I knew she'd like-but something to make up for all the birthdays I'd missed. For seven years we hadn't spoken. Back then we were so young-two homeschooled kids at a state university with way too little experience in relationships to make one work. We had been so close. Practically inseparable. I made her laugh as nobody else could. She came and snuggled into my chest on long bus rides, making the most boring part of most people's lives the most thrilling of mine. In seven years, I had never forgotten the curve of her slender shoulders, or the scent of her deep chestnut hair brushing the stubble on my chin. But when I actually worked up the courage to tell her that I loved her, she played it off. "I love you, too! We're best friends." I clarified. "No, Eileen, I mean I'm *in love* with you." She wigged out, like she was having a manic episode. Babbled incoherently about friendship and a tantalizing something about "sexual tension" that I had never forgotten, and then hung up. I tried a few times to reestablish contact with her, but she avoided me everywhere. On the rebound, I picked up one of her friends, married her, and got a divorce. Not what I'd really wanted. Eileen and I had only reconnected on Facebook back in February. She'd been happy to hear from me, sorry to hear about my divorce. She lent a sympathetic ear and offered advice based on her own series of failed relationships. In seven years, not one of her boyfriends had lasted more than twelve months. They all bored her. I, it seemed, didn't. We could talk for hours, about anything and everything. I legitimately thought we were just rebooting an old friendship, and I was glad to have it back. There had been a time when she had been the most important person in my life. In many ways, she had never ceased to be. I had been planning a trip to South America, in which she was especially interested. She happily invited herself along, telling me she might come and stay with me there for three months, or six, or who knows, after her graduation the next spring. The only thing was, she added significantly, she would have to dump her boyfriend before then because she was bored of him and didn't want him to come. My heart skipped a beat. Then a second. And a third. I restarted it in time to keep my grip on the phone as she told me about all the fun things we would do together at the other end of the world... how we would close cafés, and paint along the Rio de la Plata, and cruise the Antarctic shore, and rent an apartment in the heart of the Port and stay up all night in our pajamas talking philosophy. It was a date. The more we talked, though, the more my old feelings for her returned. She had been my soulmate, and her rejection of me seven years ago, driven, it seemed to me, by her fear of her own feelings and her emotional immaturity, had crushed me. Maybe fate had given me a second chance at the relationship that was supposed to have been all along. I went to South America prepared to wait her out until the Spring when she came down. But the waiting was killing me. I had to know if there was a chance. So I wrote her a long, beautiful letter telling her that she was still the love of my life after all these years, and how I really hoped we could pick things up again where they had been left off so long ago, since it was painfully clear that neither of us had managed to find happiness without the other. I sent the letter. I waited for a response. I waited. I waited. Three weeks passed in silence. I messaged her on Facebook: "Did you get my letter?" "Yes," she replied. "Need some time to think about it. Will get back to you." Weeks went by, and she never did. She was afraid again, clearly. She was afraid of intimacy, which is what had derailed all those other relationships of hers, and she was especially afraid of intimacy with me, because it was the real thing. I could keep waiting, or I could try to sway her to overcome her fear through showing some courage of my own and making a grand romantic gesture. I chose the latter, and I flew 6000 miles back to surprise her-to show her there was no length I would not go to for her. So there I was, walking down the path to her house, feeling for the first time in seven years that I was walking down *my* path. That whatever happened when I got there-whether she was happy to see me or not-I was following my proper destiny at last. I reached the door. I rang the doorbell. A woman I didn't know answered, and I asked after Eileen. "Basement unit," she said, and shut the door. I wandered around the back of the quaint little house and descended the short brick staircase to the basement door. I rang the doorbell. The door opened. It was her. And not just my memory of her, not just my old photographs of her and I and the laughs we had shared, but her. In flesh and blood. It was her mousy hair, her adorable squared nose, her cleft chin. Her eyes widened in shock, magnified still further by her red, horn-rimmed glasses. "Mac! What... what are you doing here?" She began to cry and disintegrated rapidly into hysterics as she spoke. She had told me a little about the regimen she'd been put on-anti-anxiety pills, anti-depressants, anti-everything, to say nothing of her self-medicating psychadelics, and how it had made her a little paranoid, among other things, but before me I could see the number it had done on her. This wasn't like the old Eileen at all. She would have been beaming. "This is my HOUSE! You're in Argentina and, and... this is my HOUSE! You're in my TOWN! Why are you HERE?" "Eileen," I began, feeling not a little pity for her, "I just wanted to talk to you. I never heard back about my letter..." "So you came to my HOUSE?! Don't you think I would have written you back if I wanted to talk to you? I don't want to talk to you. I think you should leave." I was dumbstruck. "I thought you were testing me... playing coy like you always do, seeing how far I'll go to keep up the dance with you..." "I want you to leave now. Go, or I'll call the police." My heart shattered. It was the second time she had broken it. It couldn't end like this... not again. She couldn't trample on my heart and disappear again. This was my second chance. This was *our* second chance. This was the time everything was going to go right-not... like this. Something shifted inside me, and my whole being canted hard. Somehow, I could tell I was no longer in my right mind, but whether that meant I was about to do something the real me would never do, or something the real me had wanted to do for years, I wasn't sure. My foot flew into the door jam as she moved to slam the door shut. "I don't think you really want me to go." "I mean it, Mac." She swallowed hard, glancing down at the toe of my boot. "No, you don't!" I yelled as my arm braced the door, surprising myself as much as her. "You're just scared. That's why you're on all those goddamned pills! Just talk to me! I've come so far..." She reached for her cell phone as she pushed back on the door. She had always been a skinny little thing, though, only standing about 5' 4", and she was no match for the weight I could put on it. The door swung open and she fell to the ground in the entry hall, the phone flying out of her hand toward the kitchen. She turned over and scrambled for it, but I lunged in and grabbed her by the ankles before she could close the distance. My line of sight now ran directly along the backs of her calves. Her legs had always been her best feature-nothing short of pin-up shapely-and the rock climbing that, as I gathered from Facebook, she'd taken up a couple of years ago had matured them to perfection. On my horizon rose the firm arc of her ass cheeks, writhing as she struggled for the phone that must have lain just beyond her fingers. "Let me go!" The words came to my mind unbidden, as though the whole arc of our history had placed them there of its own accord, "I'm never letting you go again, Eileen." The door swung shut behind me and I began to drag her backward across the floor. "And you don't want me to! What are you going to do, live the next seven years with a string of lackluster boyfriends who don't excite you, letting them dry hump you clothed when you're feeling generous because you're too afraid of intimacy to get undressed?" Like I said, we talked about anything and everything. I had clawed her back until her open belt loops were within reach, and I wound my fingers into them. Her narrow hips wriggled out with ease, and she shot forward until her jeans hit her ankles. It was enough distance to grab the phone, and her fingers fumbled over it in panic. I let go of her jeans and flew across the top of her, seizing her wrist by an outstretched arm and gripping it until the phone fell from her hand. Tears streamed down her face. "Let me GO! Let me GO!" She squirmed beneath me, trying to slip out from under my lithe, but solid, frame. Her skin felt just as soft as I remembered it, her hair was just as fragrant... I sniffed her deeply as she writhed and bawled. For seven years, merely thinking about the times I had innocently touched her-the hugs we had shared, the car rides sleeping with our heads lolled together-had made me hard. Now her whole body was laid out along mine, and my eyes and my hands and my nose were filled with her. My cock was straining the denim that held it in, and my landing on top of her and so positioned it that it strained out right into the cleft of her ass, covered now only by a pair of white cotton panties. The more she struggled, the more she massaged my lengthening shaft, and the more I realized that I loved her, yes, but that I also hated her. I hated her for breaking my heart. I hated her for giving me false hope. I hated her for leading me on with coquettish looks and flirtatious quips and promises of boyfriend-free evenings in Argentina. I hated her for hurting me, and I wanted to punish her. I wanted to show her that she meant more to me than anything in this world, and that I was exactly what she needed if she'd only admit it to herself, but I also wanted to punish her. That was the moment I realized what she must have realized the moment she had seen me in the doorway-that I had come here to rape her. My right hand was still gripping her wrist, but my left moved down to my belt and began to unbuckle it. "NO!" she screamed, choking on the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please, Mac... Please don't do it." I kicked my boots off as my fingers moved to the button. She froze at the sound of the zipper coming down. Then she whimpered. "Mac..." It could have been the whimper of a scared dog, or of a bitch in heat. She took advantage of a little relief from my weight as I raised my hips to slide my pants down to break free. This time, she left the phone and made for the living room out the other end of the kitchen, but with her own pants still around her ankles she didn't get very far before my jeans were off and I grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her around to face me. She looked away. "Eileen," I pleaded, "please look at me. Please..." Her eyes were nailed to the linoleum. My anger rose. "I said *look at me*!" I grabbed her by the chin and forced her face up. She clinched her eyes shut. I loved that face. So unique. Her nose, squared off at the tip and yet strangely cute, her little pursed mouth with the slightly bowed lip... I kissed her. She whimpered again, though her mouth was stopped, and her legs fidgeted. I felt torn apart inside-so furious and yet so desperately in love with her. My lips broke free from hers and moved up by her ear. "It's okay," I whispered as she began to sob uncontrollably. "This is what you want. It's what you've always wanted." I reached down and pulled her panties aside. They were almost dripping. Slowly, I backed her up toward the kitchen wall until her hips stopped retreating. Her landline was mounted to the wall there, so my free hand pinned her arm on that side as the head of my now throbbing dick brushed for the first time against her neatly trimmed bush. She gasped and her bright blue eyes flew open, looking right into mine. "Mac, please don't hurt me. I'm sorry." Her stark terror had broken out in sweat across her face and her neck. It smelled like sex. Her hips twisted desperately against the wall, trying to tear the elastic of her panties free from my hand, but all she was succeeding in doing was dragging the moist folds of her pussy lips back and forth across the swollen head of my cock. Whatever she said-whatever had passed between our heads and our hearts, her body wanted mine. I looked at her deadpan. "It's too late for that." In one quick thrust I drove all six and a half inches right against her cervix. She screamed as though she were being murdered. Her pussy clamped on me, as though she were trying to wrestle me out, but that only spurred me to pound her harder. All that could be heard were her heavy sobs and the naked slap of my engorged balls against her pale thighs. Then, suddenly, a new sound. "RAPE! RAPE!" she screamed. "Somebody HELP me!" I remembered for the first time that there were people in the upstairs unit. I kissed her again, letting her scream the word out into my mouth. "RAPE!" Her free hand flailed at me ineffectually. Mine dug into the flesh of her ass and scooted her up the wall, breaking the seal on her mouth. But she had stopped screaming. Her eyes were opened in redoubled fear as she felt me tensing inside her. "Mac..." she stammered. "I'm... I'm not on the p... pill." That was it. The thought of getting her pregnant sent me over the edge. My full balls swung up against the bottom of her ass and unloaded, pumping six staccato waves of searing hot cum into her vulnerable womb. "Oh, FUCK!" she screamed. "FUCK you! You fucking PERVERT!" As the last spurt entered her, the first was already running back down along the length of my still pulsing shaft and tracing the curves of her beautifully muscled thighs. Had she been any other woman, I would have been spent. But this was the woman I'd waited seven years for. And I hadn't accomplished what I'd come to do yet. Slowly, I let her slide back down the wall until her feet touched the floor. Then I stepped on her pants between her ankles as I pulled her away and out of them, a bit dazed. I kicked a chair out from the breakfast nook and thrust her down, crouching beside her as she collapsed into it, her breasts jiggling slightly as her ass landed in the seat. Her nipples protruded noticeably into her cardigan. I had always wondered if Eileen's tits were as nice as the rest of her; she had always kept them too well covered to give much idea of their size and shape. I took hold of her collar on both sides and pulled, spraying buttons across the floor. The sweater swung open on two immaculately round, full B cups. Having been settled in for the evening when I called at the door, she hadn't been wearing a bra. "These are beautiful," I said, taking one in each hand and squeezing gently. "And your nipples are so hard... Are you turned on, Eileen?" I bent my head down and kissed her left nipple. She hissed with a sharp intake of air. "Did it turn you on to feel my thick, sticky cum filling you?" She looked away and her cheeks bloomed scarlet. I bent my head down again to trace the large areola of her right breast with my tongue. She stifled a moan. I began to suckle her, pulling and twisting at her other nipple with my left hand. She gripped the edges of the chair with white knuckles, while her drenched panties leaked a pool into the middle of it. I took her nipple softly between my teeth as I pulled off, and she squealed. "Does being raped make you horny?" At that her demeanor changed. "You've had your fun," she said. "Now go. I won't tell anyone." I looked at her as though hurt by her suggestion. "I didn't come here to alleviate my blue balls, Eileen. I came her to remind you of your promises. She looked at me quizzically, and I stood up, bringing my semi-flaccid cock even with her face. As the pressure of my hands on her shoulders slightened, she tucked and rolled out from under them, scooping up her phone and barreling at last into the living room. I pursued her and caught her kneeling on the couch jabbing wildly at the buttons through a haze of tears. I snatched it out of her hand, grabbed her hair, and dragged her to the floor while she squealed like a pig. Across from the couch was a large, cushy armchair she had told me about many times. It was her safe place from the world, but not from me. I sat in it and pulled her up on her knees in front of me so that I could feel her hot, panicked breath on my now soft, but still enlarged, dick. "Open your mouth." She pressed her lips together tightly and shook her head in defiance. Her shoulder-length brown hair swaying swiftly. "I said, open your mouth," I repeated, placing my hand under her chin and squeezing her cheeks until her lips just barely parted. I pulled her mouth to my tip. "Taste it." Tears were welling up in her eyes again. I moved my hand from her chin to the back of her head and pressed her into my pelvis, savoring the feel of my cock falling heavily onto her slender tongue. "Can you taste that, Eileen? It's the taste of us, together, as it always should have been, but it wasn't like that. Do you know why?" She shook her head, inadvertently rubbing the base of my cock between her lips. "Because of your broken promises, and your lies." I was slowly grinding against her face, now, feeling the stiffness return to my member. "And now I'm going to make you choke on every one of them." My cock was growing again inside her mouth, and she struggled her head back to accommodate it. "You promised me you would respond to my letter, but did you?" She tried desperately to jerk her head back off my shaft. I curled my fingers into the hair above the back of her neck and pulled. She squeaked, and stopped resisting. "Did you?" She shook her head and winced, knowing what was coming. I slammed my now rock-hard dick against the back of her throat. She choked and spluttered as I let her ease back again an inch or two. "You promised you would dump your boyfriend. Did you?" She whimpered as she shook her head again. Again, I thrust against her face full force. She wretched as I struck the back of her throat. She struggled once again to pull away, and again I pulled at her hair until she stopped. "You used to come snuggle into my chest, but would you let me hug you?" She shook her head. I gagged her on my cock. "No, you freaked the hell out! You told me we had 'sexual tension', but did you so much as let me kiss you?" Something changed in her face. She shook her head again, but with no flinch-no move to protect herself from what was coming. I pressed her nose to my pubic bone. Her whole body convulsed. "Worst of all... worst of all you told me you loved me, but did you?" I was already preparing my next thrust when I realized she wasn't shaking her head. She was nodding it. "You did?" I asked, all the tension leaving my body. She nodded more vigorously. Then she began to suck. Her lips sealed to the sides of my shaft as she pulled back in a long, slow movement until they rested against the back of my head, which she met with the flat of her tongue, rolling it against the tip of my cock. "Oh, Eileen..." I moaned, moving my one hand from the back of her head to the top, not to force it, but just to play with her hair, while I reached the other under her to play with one of her long, hard nipples. She moaned, and the vibration through her lips made my whole body tingle. The tip of her tongue met the underside of my shaft and began scraping back along it as her lips drove forward again toward my body. She had never let her boyfriends do much to her, but clearly she'd done something for them. This was masterful. When she'd gotten as far as she could without gagging, she sucked hard on the return stroke, giving me the full tongue blade coiling first one direction, then the other along my throbbing veins. She worked me like this for several blissful minutes, each cycle just a little faster than the last, and my mind went blank of everything but the warmth and the moistness of her mouth wrapped around my burning dick. "Eileen, oh Eileen!" Without warning, her long, lean fingers wrapped around my ballsack and tightened steadily, as though she meant to squeeze out every last drop of my sperm. "Oh, Eileen, you're gonna make me cum!" I screamed. "I'm cumming!" Consummation She squeezed my balls so hard I thought she would crush them as the first shot of my jizz hit the roof of her mouth. She snorted. I felt a second, longer jet coat her tongue and she pulled away, allowing the final spurt to land across her glasses. I saw her get ready to swallow. "Don't you dare," I said, looking at her sternly. "Don't you dare swallow or spit. Whatever you have to say you can say with my sperm in your mouth." I knew she couldn't talk with her mouth full; I just wanted to see it dribble down her chin and hopefully land on her tits. "I'm sorry," she mouthed around my thick semen, which indeed dribbled from the corners of her mouth as she talked. "I never wanted to hurt you." This apology was different from the cursory one she had given before. It was coming from her eyes as well as her mouth. "I never realized," the L spilled a whole teaspoon of cum across her lower lip and onto her cleavage, "how awful," a nice dollop right on her left nipple, "I'd been to you. No wonder you hate me." Her mouth was now empty, and her chin glistening. I slid off the chair and dropped to my knees, taking her by the shoulders. "I don't hate you," I said. "I love you, more than anyone or anything in this whole wide world." "Then maybe," she sniffled, "we can forgive each other?" I hesitated. Eileen was very clever. It was possible that she was filled with genuine remorse for having wronged me, that she sought my forgiveness, and that she had given me a fantastic blowjob as a peace offering. It was also possible that she'd realized that making me cum would prevent me from gagging her anymore and that she was now trying another ploy to end her tribulation, like promising her secrecy earlier. I had to be sure of her. I took her hands and lifted her up, leading her into the living room. "What are you doing?" she asked as I looked around. Finally, I spotted the door that I figured must be the bedroom, and pulled her gently into it. I turned on the light. It definitely had her style-all dark wood and an elegant four-poster with a canopy. I slid her ruined sweater off her shoulders and picked her up, tossing her onto the bed. She made no effort to get away as I wriggled her panties off. I pulled off my t-shirt and jumped up on the bed from the foot, landing between her legs, and buried my face in her swollen pussy. Her back arched as I pried her lips open with my tongue and located her clit. She gasped as my tongue grazed it once, twice, three times and then began to trace it in tiny circles. "Oh, Mac..." she moaned. I set my lips around it and sucked, once, lifting it high. She nearly sat bolt upright as she inhaled sharply. Then I jumped up and looked under the bed. She looked at me like I was crazy. "No," I said, "you don't keep it under the bed. Too obvious. You'd be too embarrassed if Josh found it." "What are you talking about?" she frowned. "You'd put in something he'd have no interest in, like shoes..." I pulled the closet open. "But not shoes you have to get into all the time when he might be in here. Maybe shoes that are off-season..." "Um, you're in the middle of raping me, remember?" "...like fur boots for winter." I reached up to the highest shelf of the closet and pulled down a large shoebox. I glanced behind me. Eileen looked panicked. I opened the box. Inside were a pair of white, fur-lined boots. Inside one of the boots was a thick rubber dildo. I pulled it out and then looked at her, grinning. "Black, eh?" She smiled sheepishly and shrugged. Dildo in hand, I leapt back onto the bed. She reached down of her own accord to open herself up. Her soft, pink walls were still slick with sperm. I inserted the dildo slowly, listening to her moan down every one of its eight inches until the rubber balls touched her ass. I returned to her clit. I don't know how long I stayed down there, licking and sucking and teasing it with my teeth, sometimes accidentally-and sometimes on purpose-nudging the dildo just a little deeper into her pussy. Sometimes I traced her thighs with my fingertips. Sometimes I wriggled my hands under her and squeezed her ass cheeks as I pulled her hips into my face. Sometimes her hands groped the sheets at her sides, and sometimes they massaged her breasts. Time simply had no meaning while my head swam with the scent of her sex and the sound of heavy breathing and piercing moans. At last, I heard her voice again. "Oh, Mac. Don't stop! Don't stop! You were right... I was just scared." Her head lolled side to side, as though she were speaking out of a fever dream. "I'm always scared these days. That's what the pills are for. Fuck yeah, right there... Disposable boyfriends are safe. You're not disposable, and so you're not... Oh. Fuck me with your tongue. ...safe." Her breathing suddenly intensified, "Oh... Oh... But disposable boyfriends can't make me cum like this. I'm gonna cum for you, Mac... What the fuck is wrong with me? I can't cum unless I'm being raped? Oh fuck. Fuck. Keep going. Harder. A little faster. I'm gonna cum... I'm gonna... OH MY GOD!" Her hips bucked wildly into my face and I gripped her ass twice as hard just to stay on top of her as she screamed through her climax. The juices seeping around the edge of the dildo told a story of much more held behind it. "Oh FUCK! FUCK I love you! I've always loved you. You make me feel so fucking good about myself..." Now she was ready. And so was I, my hard-on once again raging. I grabbed her by the hips and flipped her over, suddenly enough to startle her, and swept my fingers around the edge of the dildo to moisten them. I slathered what I had collected on her asshole. "WHAT? What the hell are you doing? Mac, don't. I've never... nobody... only the dildo..." I leaned over her to whisper in her ear as I positioned myself. "Shh. I'm in the middle of raping you, remember?" Fear had returned to her eyes. "Mac, please don't..." She let out a piercing scream as the tip of my cock pressed into her asshole. Her eyes, already red and puffy from crying, stung with tears and she whimpered, once again uncertain between beaten dog and bitch in heat. "Now you're going to make some new promises," I whispered. "Promises you will keep. Okay?" She bit her lip and nodded vigorously. "But first, I need to know you've learned your lesson. Have you been a good girl, or a bad girl?" She nodded in a panic, hoping a correct answer would stop the penetration. "A bad girl. I've been a very bad girl." I pressed in deeper, and she screamed. "Good," I said. "And did you have this coming to you?" "Yes," she winced. "Yes, what?" "Yes, I had this coming to me." I pressed in still deeper, her sphincter squeezing me so hard I thought she might pinch my dick off. "Did you deserve this?" Tears ran down her cheeks, "Yes, yes I deserved this." "Deserved what?" She hesitated. "To be raped." "Louder, so the whole world can hear." She screamed as best she could through her uncontrollable sobbing as I began to press forward again, stretching her asshole, "I DESERVED TO BE RAPED! I DESERVED TO BE RAPED!" I gave her another full inch. I could now feel the dildo still jammed all the way into her pussy from the other side. "FUCK! You're going to rip me apart!" "That's okay," I whispered calmly, "we're almost done. Will you finally be mine, now?" "I'M YOURS!" she wept. "I'm yours." "And you're never going to go away again?" "No. Never." "Tell me you'll do anything to make up for the pain you've caused me." "ANYTHING! I'll do anything..." Her eyes met mine, wild with pain and fear. "I'm glad to hear that." And with that, I began a slow, relentless descent into her ass. She screamed and swore and flailed. I could feel the veins in my dick throbbing as she spasmed violently against them. They urged me onward. Minute after minute passed, slowly and unremittingly sinking into her. "Get the FUCK off of me! I hate you! I HATE you!" "No you don't," I said at last, as my balls came to rest on her ass cheeks. "You know this will end when I cum. So, do you want me to cum?" She tried to scream, but she'd gone hoarse. "Yes! I want you to cum!" "Where do you want me to cum?" She looked at me in dismay, "I want you to cum in my ass." "Alright then." And I began to pump her, but her asshole was suctioned so tight to the base of my shaft that it couldn't slide, and so her anus pumped in and out with my strokes. As I felt my orgasm build, I asked her again. "What do you want me to do?" She seemed delirious with pain, but still slurred out a hoarse answer, though not the one I was expecting. "Rape me, Mac. I want you to rape me." She was mine. Hearing those words was as good as feeling her orgasm, and I poured the last of my semen into her, grinding her into the mattress and slapping the firm, taught flesh of her ass cheeks as our union was consummated-the last of her virgin holes filled with my undying love. Once my dick was soft enough to escape the narrow opening, I grabbed hold of the dildo and pulled both out at the same time. Her pussy gushed the juices of her earlier orgasm into a pool on the sheets, while my cum bubbled back up from her now gaping asshole and ran down her crack to drip into the pool like a waterfall. She lay perfectly motionless, exhausted. When the cum had finished dripping off her taint, I rolled her over by the hips again and grabbed her wrists to sit her up. She stared at me vacantly. "Look at the mess you made," I said. She looked down. "Clean it up so we can sleep here." She looked back up at me, blankly. I grabbed her head and threw her face down into the pool. She began to lap it up with her tongue. When the sheets were as clean as they were going to get, I picked her up and held her face in my hands. Grool was smeared across her cheeks. Grool dripped from her nose. Grool glistened on her forehead. Grool frosted the tips of her hair. Grool smudged her glasses. She stared at me acquiescently, desperate for rest. "I love you, you know," I said. She nodded. "Good. Then let's go to bed. Tomorrow will be another big day." I crawled under the covers and held them open for her to join me. She slid underneath and tucked her head against my chest, just like she had on that bus ride seven years ago. Then the front door opened. Eileen's eyes sprang wide and she looked at me desperately. "Fuck! Josh is home! What am I going to tell him?" I smiled calmly and settled into the sheets as she leapt out of the bed in a panic. "Tell him your husband's home."