7 comments/  146019 views/  27 favorites

Truth

By: DanielOrme



“God, I’m so horny!”

The other three women at the table reacted the way they usually did. They were used to Olivia’s habitual plaint.

“Not so loud,” said Vanessa. “Someone will hear you.”

“I hope someone does,” said Olivia. “Preferably a man.”

Vanessa gave her a half-humorous look of reproach, then glanced over at Angie and Nita. Both were wearing their usual tolerant smiles.

“Olivia, you get laid more…” began Angie.

“Not by anybody who really does what I want,” interrupted Olivia. “I want a man who’ll give me a time. I mean, someone who’ll really go wild in bed. Look at me. Don’t I deserve that?”

Her friends didn’t argue the point. Olivia was a stunner by any standard: flawless dark mocha skin, deep brown eyes, a seductively wide mouth. She accentuated her long, spectacularly-curved body with skin-tight blouses and snug leather pants.

“As a matter of fact,” continued Olivia, “we all deserve it. Come on, Vanessa, when was the last time you made it with a guy who really knew what he was doing?”

Vanessa gave her a rueful smile. She was a long-legged, caramel-skinned beauty, sea-green eyes in an achingly lovely heart-shaped face.

“You’re right,” she sighed. “All I meet are men who are only interested in themselves. Strictly wham, bam, thank you ma’am. Isn’t there one guy out there who’ll take his time?”

“Oh, I hear you,” piped up Nita, the youngest of the group. Only a few months out of college, her huge brown eyes, full sweet mouth, and soft aureole of corkscrew curls made her look even younger than her 21 years. “I keep meeting men who think they’re being romantic if they offer to pay for dessert. And I thought college guys were bad. How about you, Angie? Are you getting any satisfaction?”

“If she was, would she be spending all that time in the gym?” said Olivia.

Angie shot her a sour look, but didn’t dispute her. She knew her perfect, smooth-muscled ebony body was the result of long hours of strenuous exercise, exercise where she worked off her sexual frustrations. “Let’s just say I’m getting used to disappointment. Olivia’s right. There’s not a man out there who knows what to do to really please a woman.”

“And what would you do with one who did?” asked Vanessa.

“No, it’s what he would do with me,” replied Angie, prompting a round of laughter and agreement.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Olivia. “There are no men out there like that. I mean, can you think of one?”

Nita, a far-away look in her eyes, said, “I can think of one I’ve been dreaming is like that.” At their questioning looks, she hesitated, then smiled shyly and said “Ben.”

“Oh, lord,” said Olivia, “Not another one,” as Angie and Vanessa broke into giggles.

“It was inevitable,” said Angie. “She should never have been given a desk so close to him. Seeing him all the time…”

“Why? Just because he’s white?” said Nita. “Come on. What’s wrong with Ben Morris?” 

“Not. A. Thing,” said Vanessa.

“Didn’t you know?” said Angie. “We’re the Ben Morris Fan Club. Every woman at this table has had a crush on him since the day he got here.”

“I can understand why,” said Nita. “He’s so sweet.”

“And adorable.”

“And sexy.”

“It’s his eyes,” sighed Nita. “Such beautiful eyes.”

“No, it’s the hands,” said Vanessa. “Have you seen his hands? I look at them and I want them all over me.” She involuntarily wriggled in her chair.

“Keep dreaming,” said Angie.

“Why dreaming?” asked Nita with a puzzled frown.

“Come on, Nita,” said Olivia. “He flirts with everybody. A guy who flirts with everybody isn’t really interested in starting something with anybody. That’s just his natural way of behaving.”

Nita looked more puzzled. “But it’s not,” she said. “He only acts that way with us.”

At their questioning looks, she continued. “My desk is right by his, remember? I see him all day. He’s always adorable to me. And when one of you comes to him for help, he can’t do enough for you. But with everybody else he’s all business. Just answers the question and wants them to leave. I don’t think I’ve even seen him smile at anybody except…”

“The four of us?” said Angie.

The women exchanged wondering glances.

“The only four black women in the place,” said Vanessa.

“Whattya know,” said Olivia. “I think our boy Ben may have himself a chocolate fantasy going.”

“You think so?” said Nita.

“I hope so,” said Angie. “You know what they say about white guys who go for black girls.”

Olivia leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “Mmmm, they’re supposed to go crazy. I could definitely go for some of that.”

Vanessa shook her head. “Calm down, everybody. We don’t know for sure”

“Aw, don’t ruin it,” said Angie. “Weren’t you the one who wanted his hands all over you?”

“And I still do, but if we don’t know for sure…”

“You can never know for sure with men,” said Olivia. “The best you can do is hope and guess.”

“Wouldn’t it be great if you could know for sure?” said Nita. “Just ask the man if he wants you and he would tell you the truth.”

Vanessa sat bolt upright. “That’s it!” she practically shouted. “Truth!”

The others gave her blank looks.

“Well, yeah…isn’t that what we were talking about?” said Olivia.

“No, not that!” said Vanessa. “Truth.”

She leaned forward and began to speak in a low near-whisper:

“It’s something they’ve been working on in the pharmaceuticals division, very hush-hush. They’re trying to come up with an alternative to Viagra. They’re using sodium pentathol as the basic ingredient.”

“Truth serum?”

“Right. That’s why the working name is Truth. Sodium pentathol not only induces true _statements, it also lowers inhibitions. That’s why they thought there might be something in it that would increase virility. Well, they were right, it does. But they haven’t been able to filter out the other properties. According to the reports I’ve seen, what they have now is a drug that will increase male virility and reduce inhibitions, but also still compel a man to tell the truth. Not only that, it makes him highly susceptible, almost like a hypnotic.”

“A drug that makes men horny, truthful, and pliant?” said Angie. “Why haven’t they marketed it? Every woman in the country will want it.”

“Yeah, but the marketers are men,” said Olivia.” You think they want something like that out there?” She turned to Vanessa. “Do they still have this…Truth? Can you get some of it?”

“I know where they keep it. I can get it.”

“And if we give some to Ben,” said Nita, her face reflecting the same disbelief and delight as the others, “we’ll not only be able to find out what he’s thinking about us…”

“But we’ll also be able to get him to do something about it.” Vanessa’s eyes gleamed. “Leave it to me. I think I’ve got a plan.”

*******

Vanessa glanced at her reflection in her bedroom mirror, then back to the figure in the bed. Ben was still unconscious. She felt a twinge of guilt; she knew the drug they’d slipped in his coffee that afternoon to make him feel sick was harmless, but he’d been so sweet and grateful when she’d offered to drive him home. She and Nita had helped him out to her car, and he’d passed out on the way. Angie and Olivia were waiting at her house. Since Vanessa was the one who would administer the Truth, it was decided that she would be the first to be alone with him. The others would wait their turns downstairs.

She looked longingly at him. His warm brown eyes were closed, but she’d had to take his shirt off to give him the injection. Mmmm, so nice, she thought: No Hercules, but square shoulders, smooth muscles, flat stomach. She hadn’t had the nerve to take off his pants. What if the Truth didn’t work? How would she explain the situation?

She worriedly studied her reflection again. Perhaps she shouldn’t have changed her clothes. Her long, rich hair, which she usually wore pinned up, was now tumbled around her light brown shoulders. The sheer fabric of the pale peach negligee left nothing to the imagination, showing off her slender but luscious body and long beautiful legs. She really was…

“Gorgeous,” came the voice from the bed.

Ben was awake. He was staring at her, smiling. He seemed alert, but his eyes had a slight glaze to them.

Vanessa walked slowly toward him. She sat beside him on the bed, and softly said, “Do you like how I look, Ben?”

“Very much,” he said, still staring at her.

“Would you like to kiss me?” she said, inching closer.

He slid his hand through her hair, pulling her to him, and kissed her warmly, deeply. Then again, and again.

Vanessa pulled away for a moment, long enough to shed her negligee.

“You can do anything you want with me, Ben,” she murmured. “I want you to do everything you want.”

He pulled her to him, kissing her again. Vanessa shivered with pleasure as she felt his big hands caress her naked back, then move around to cup her full breasts. He kissed his way down her neck, lingering at the hollow of her throat. She fell back onto the bed, cooing, “That’s right, darling, nice and slow. Take your time. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

He continued to caress her beautiful breasts, first with his hands, then with his lips and tongue, gently licking and sucking the nipples into excited peaks. Vanessa adored it. She had longed to be made love to like this, so delicious, so unhurried. As his hands and mouth continued their way down his body, she spread her long legs, her pussy already wet with anticipation.

Soon she felt his hands caressing her ass, his mouth climbing her smooth caramel thighs. Finally she felt his tongue darting and licking inside her cunt, his lips lingering on her cunt lips. Wrapping her legs around his head, her groans of pleasure turned to near-screams as his mouth found her engorged clit and the most satisfying orgasm of her life ripped through her.

Still eager, she reluctantly released him from between her thighs. Pulling his face up to hers, she kissed him as she unbuckled his pants. She caressed his already full erection, then fell back onto the bed again, her legs wide open. Her eyes closed, she sighed as she felt his cock slide into her, then hugged his body to hers as she savored the sensation. Slowly, then rapidly, he pumped his way to mutual orgasm.

Vanessa blissfully continued to hold Ben’s body against hers. It works, she thought, Truth works. She had to tell the others.

But not right now.

******

Olivia hungrily approached the bed. The hypnotic properties of Truth had enabled Vanessa to lull Ben back to sleep long enough for her to give him another injection and allow Olivia to take her place. Vanessa had told her to wait for Ben to awaken, but she couldn’t resist.

Crouching between his legs, she wrapped her full sensuous lips around his cock and eagerly began to suck on it. It stiffened in seconds, and soon she was licking away at the underside of the shaft, burying her mouth in his scrotum. She stopped when she heard him groan, and looked up to see his eyes flutter open.

She smiled wickedly up at him. “Do you like that, Ben?”

“Oh, yes,” he gasped.

Her smile widened. “Would you like to do the same to me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Mmm, good,” she said, and hurriedly changed her position so she was astride his head, facing his feet. “Don’t hold back, baby,” she said as she lowered herself onto his mouth, “Go wild. I want you to go wild.”

She tried to continue sucking his dick, but his mouth on her slit soon made it impossible to concentrate on anything else. Before long she was sitting up, grinding her crotch in his face as he worked her to one climax, then another.

She wanted more. Climbing off him, she flopped onto her back. “Fuck me hard, Ben. I want you to fuck me hard.”

He was on her in a second, his erection deep inside her, then almost out, then buried in her cunt to the hilt again. His hands slid up her long dark torso and grabbed her full tits as he rammed himself into her again and again. She bucked and writhed beneath him, her legs spread wide as she frantically raised her pelvis to meet each thrust. God, how she’d wanted this! The words formed in her mind with the rhythm of their coupling: Good…Hard…Sweet…Fuck! She lost track of her orgasms, until she felt him explode inside her and collapse into her arms.

Olivia had never felt so sated. “God, what a miracle,” she murmured, and dozed happily off in his arms.

******

Angie slid excitedly into the bed. Olivia had been reluctant to leave, and she could already understand why. She lay with her back to him, wrapping his right arm around her to caress her firm breasts, guiding his left hand to her eager pussy. Just the sight of Ben’s white hands against her ebony-dark skin excited her. She craned her head back and smiled at him. “Do I feel good?” she asked.

Ben smiled back. “Better than anything.”

She leaned back further and they began to exchange slow, delicious kisses, their tongues probing deeply into each other’s mouths. She writhed with pleasure at his caresses, feeling him revel in the touch of her perfect breasts and smooth belly, gently parting her labia and massaging the interior with his fingers. His thumb soon found her excited clit, and she pressed wildly against him, the orgasm more sweet and intense than any she could ever remember.

As he continued to kiss and caress her, Angie could feel his erection against her ass cheeks. An excited urge seized her. “Stick it in me, Ben,” she said. “Fuck my ass.” She’s never had it that way before, but she was so turned on by this man, she wanted to feel him everywhere, to feel him inside her every opening.

Still leaning back on top of him, she raised her hips, and his hard cock shoved its way up her asshole. She almost screamed at the combination of pain and pleasure. So good, she thought, so good to feel him everywhere: his cock up her ass, his fingers in her cunt, his hand on her tits, his tongue in her mouth. An orgasm even stronger than the first ripped through her. Perfect, she thought, it’s perfect.

******

Nita knelt on the bed beside Ben’s sleeping form. She had stripped naked once they were alone, but now she felt oddly hesitant. But when his eyes opened, the look he gave her was so warm and welcoming, as if she was just who he wanted to see, that her embarrassment disappeared. Slowly she bent over, and they exchanged a soft kiss, then another, and another. His hands rose to caress her curls, then dropped to her smooth shoulders and large, soft tits. Soon she was astride him, gently lowering herself onto his erect cock.

For a long moment she didn’t move, loving the feeling, loving the look of pure pleasure on Ben’s face. She leaned over to kiss him again. She began to agitate herself on him, slowly at first, then more quickly as he touched her everywhere, his hands roving up her smooth thighs, her full hips, up her back, until he pulled her to him again for more soft kisses.

Nita let her mouth linger on his, relishing the kisses almost as much as the fucking. “So sweet,” she murmured, “So sweet.” Orgasm after orgasm shivered through her, until she could take no more. “Come, angel, come inside me,” she gasped, and as he did she let herself go one last time, then gratefully collapsed onto him. Soon both were fast asleep.

******

Ben awoke at sunrise. The dark gorgeous girl in his arms only confirmed what he already knew: Last night had not been a dream. No dream he’d ever had had ever been that vivid, that beautiful, that perfect. But how had it happened?! He tried to think about what he had done, but it was strange. He couldn’t remember thinking at all, just acting, doing everything that he wanted, that they wanted, without thinking, and it all working out gloriously.

He caressed the sleeping Nita’s smooth back. So warm, so succulent, he thought. Why did he have to know, why couldn’t he just be grateful? But his curiosity was too great. Reluctantly, he untangled himself from Nita’s embrace and began to explore the room. He found his answer on the dresser: a syringe and an empty vial labeled Truth. He’d read a few reports on what the boys in pharmaceuticals were working on, but how had these four women gotten hold of it? And why had they picked him to…”

“We’re sorry.”

He looked up to see Vanessa in the doorway, Angie and Olivia behind her. They looked even more luscious than he remembered them from last night, except for the worried looks they wore.

Olivia smiled weakly. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You don’t have to take the blame,” said Vanessa. “I’m the one who got the drug. I gave the shots.”

“No, we all agreed on it,” interrupted Angie. She turned to Ben. “ If you want to report us, it’s all our faults, we…”

Ben began to laugh. “I don’t believe this,” he said. “I just had the most incredible night of my life, with the four most beautiful women I’ve ever known, and you’re all trying to apologize?!”

Vanessa gave a little cat smile. “You mean…?”

“You didn’t need any drug,” he said. “I’d have done anything and everything you wanted.” He gazed at all of them. “I still will. Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“Well then,” came the voice from the bed. Nita was awake. “In that case, we should probably even the score.” She pushed aside the sheets, revealing her ripe young body. “How about us doing everything you want this time?”

In a moment, Ben was beside her, exchanging long, warm kisses. Moments later, Vanessa was beside him, too, and the kisses grew more numerous, more breathless, as they offered him their lips, their tongues, their breasts. As he fell back on the bed, he could feel Olivia’s full lips as they enveloped his erect cock. Soon that sensation was replaced by the feeling of Angie’s smooth thighs astride him as she guided him into her hot satiny cunt. Olivia slid in behind him, feeding him her tits, her belly, her fragrant pussy. Ben gasped, half from the delirious pleasure, half from lack of air as the four darkly delicious bodies clung to him. He almost laughed again as he imagined the headline: “Man suffocates from overdose of perfect brown flesh” That’s the way he wanted to go.

But not yet.

Truth 1 - Lies 0



There is little to no sex in this story. If that is what you want I suggest you look at other stories. The people in this story are real and this is their story. More or less. I have taken some literary license and embellished some of the facts. Comments are requested and appreciated. Thanks and enjoy.

*

It's Saturday night at the bar and I am sitting here waiting to get my ass kicked, again. Wait, I hear the ass kicker coming in now. This will be the third time in seven weeks that it will happen and at the same bar. Why don't I change bars you ask? I will answer that question by telling you my story. Here goes.

My name is Jack (Jackson really, after my dad), I am 24, 6 feet 2 and about 220 pounds. I have a fairly buff body, but the muscles are from working, not the gym. Although I do run about 3 miles two times a week to help keep in shape. I am fairly good looking, no movie star but not too bad either. I work in a stocking warehouse, as assistant inventory manager. As a stocking warehouse we take deliveries from manufacturers and set up loads for shipping to their local customers as needed. I'm supposed to be at a desk, but there is always something on the floor that I have to help load and ship. My job is a lot more physical than the title implies.

Now, let me introduce you to Karen, my ex-fiancée, my significant other, my soul mate, and the reason I am getting my ass kicked on a regular basis. Karen is also 24 and tall for a woman at 5 feet 11; she is slender, not thin, and well endowed. (She has big boobs). She works for an insurance company as a claims adjuster.

At the time that the ass kicking began we had been dating, and then engaged, for 2 years. Karen and I met as freshmen in college and really didn't date until the last half of our senior year. We joined the same study group as freshmen. Our study group continued all through college, so we spent time together for 4 years. After our first semester in the group, we became friends as well as study partners. When the group paired off to study different subjects, Karen and I always seemed to be pushed together. 

I didn't have any really close friends in college, just a few beer buddies. Guess I studied too much to become a full fledged member of the party pack. It wasn't that I was a stick in the mud or anything; it was just that my family and I had worked hard to be able to send me to school. I thought an education was more important than being a party animal. A few beers at the bar across from the campus were about the extent of my wild times in college.

However, the guy that I was closest to, or at least occasionally hung around with, was Chuck. According to Chuck, he is a ladies' man of great ability. I wouldn't know; I didn't spend that much time with him.

Karen and Chuck met at the beginning of our senior year and started to date, pretty much exclusively. After their dates, Chuck would tell the pack members and me about the wild sex they had that night. Every date was the same, a great sexual adventure. I didn't believe him, but it could be. Karen and I were study buddies and casual friends, but I didn't know her sexual preferences. Anyway it wasn't up to me to protect her reputation. Although I did warn Chuck about his ravings a couple of times; I explained to him there would be hell to pay if Karen found out he was talking about her.

Chuck, two of his cronies, and I was sitting at a table in the bar. He was regaling us with the latest episode of wild monkey sex. I glanced over his shoulder and saw a trio of girls headed our way. Something about the way they were walking didn't make me think they were going to party with us. Karen was leading the crew and she looked pissed.

"You rotten son of a bitch," Karen screamed at Chuck. "How dare you spread your lies?" She continued for about three minutes, never once stopping her harangue and never once giving Chuck a chance to answer. "If my brother was here, he would rip off your head and shit down your neck."

"I don't know what you are talking about Karen. I haven't said anything about us. Have I guys?" Chuck was looking at the three of us at the table. Both of his buddies shook their heads and agreed he had said nothing. That left me. Karen and her posse, Chuck and his pack, were now staring at me waiting for my answer. I was between a rock and a hard place; caught between two friends. One of the friends I was beginning to really like and the other was just a drinking buddy. You can probably figure out which is which. 

This was a problem for me; you see I don't lie. I know what you are thinking, but it's true. It's not because of moral issues, well somewhat. Lying requires a lot of work and concentration to be good at it. You have to remember what you said, to whom you said it, and where you said it. Different people will have to have lies customized for them. See what I mean? It's a lot of work. I don't like to work any harder than I have to; so it is just better to tell the truth. Truth is usually the best policy; I know, an old adage, but valid just the same. In addition, my dad had instilled some old school ideas in my head. One of these ideas was that your word is your bond; another way to put it was don't lie.

"Well Chuck, you have told us about a couple of dates and mentioned spending the night at Karen's place." 

Chuck looked at me in disbelief and said, "Some friend you are."

"If you don't want a truthful answer don't ask me the question," I replied.

Karen turned back to Chuck and yelled at him, "You piece of shit, you have never even been to my dorm room much less spent the night. I have never allowed you to touch me below the neck or above the knee. What other lies are you spreading?"

This time she jumped his ass for a good five minutes. Chuck sat there and tried to answer her, but all you heard from him was but, but, but, over and over. Finally Karen wound down, stepped up to Chuck and slapped him hard. I thought his head was going to come off. She turned to me smiled and she and the crew left the bar.

"Thanks a lot asshole," Chuck said to me, rubbing his cheek. "Why didn't you back me up?"

"I'm not the asshole here, Chuck. You're the one telling all the sex stories about Karen. In answer to your question, I don't lie about or to people, if I can help it. So don't put this shit on me, it's all on you and your big mouth."

Needless to say, Chuck and I didn't hang around together much after that. No big deal, we weren't that close to begin with.

The following week at the study group, Karen asked me to go for coffee afterwards. It wasn't unusual for the group to go for coffee or a beer after class. When I walked into the little diner that we normally went to, Karen was at a table alone with two cups of coffee in front of her. This was a little out of the ordinary; usually there was at least one of Karen's crew with her. I sat down, put a little sugar in the coffee and waited for Karen to say something.

"I wanted to thank you for not lying for Chuck last week," Karen told me. "It wasn't easy for you to go against your friend." 

"You're welcome, but you don't owe me any thanks, I just told the truth," I replied.

"It would have been easier for you just to go along with the others. I know your actions may have cost you a friendship with Chuck and I appreciate what you did."

"Again, no thanks are necessary. I just did what I believed to be the right thing. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I didn't do it all for you; I did it because of what I believe. You see, my dad taught me and my brothers some old school ideas or virtues. Whatever you want to call them."

"Like what?" Karen seemed interested and not just making conversation.

"My dad, and the whole family for that matter, believes that you are responsible for your actions and their consequences; we believe you should accept our laws and authority, but not blindly; and to me, most importantly, take care of your own. That means not only your family but also your friends. I guess these ideas are old fashioned now, but my family still believes in them. That's what I meant when I said I didn't do it just for you. Also I consider you a friend and I couldn't let Chuck dump on you like that."

"I feel we are friends also and still believe I owe you one. Let me take you for pizza and beer tomorrow night as a thank you."

"I would like that."

"It's a date. Can you pick me up at 7:00?"

The next night at 7:00, I picked Karen up at her dorm in my old truck and we went to a little pizza place close to campus. Every college has at least a couple of pizza joints close to school, but this one was more a family type place instead of a college hang out. The food was good, the beer cold, and the company was excellent. I began to wonder if I wanted to be more than friends with Karen.

We had a really good pizza, some beers and great conversation. I don't remember anything of importance that was said but we got to know each other much better. The owner told us we had to go at 11:00, they were closing. We had spent the better part of three hours talking and laughing.

I drove Karen back to her dorm and walked her to her door. I thanked her for the pizza and the company. She gave me a kiss goodnight, just a little friendly peck. At least that's how it started. Time seemed to stop. I know it's an old mushy line, but it's the truth. I don't know how long that kiss was, but it didn't stay a friendly little peck for long. It developed a life of its own, turning into a tongue down your throat and check your tonsils type of kiss. By the time the kiss ended we were both breathing like we had ran a marathon. 

Karen looked into my eyes and said, "Oh my god. I need to go. Good night."

With that she rushed into the dorm and I was left adjusting myself so I could walk back to my truck. What the hell just happened? As I walked back to my truck I answered my own question. I had stopped thinking of Karen as just a study buddy and began to realize what a wonderful woman she really was. In other words, I had fallen in love. Oh shit, what do I do now? Should I call her, should I wait for her to call me, what? Sounds like some love sick high school kid.

The next day was Saturday and I had no classes; I wouldn't have to see Karen until our class together on Tuesday and in the study group later on. All day, off and on, I thought about last night and Karen. Finally I decided on a plan of action. I would be friendly and act normal, but I would say nothing about the kiss. Let her bring up the subject if she wanted to. If not, I would act like it never happened. Other than that kiss, she had never indicated any romantic thoughts about me. My plan would keep either of us from being embarrassed.

There is an old saying, "Men plan and the gods laugh." They laughed like hyenas at my plan. Saturday night, I went to my little campus bar for a couple of beers. I was by myself and didn't expect to join anyone. Chuck and his pals were history and I had no one else to drink with. Didn't really need anybody else, I knew how to drink all on my own. I walked into the bar, got a beer and headed for the back and the game room. There right in front of me was Karen and a couple of other girls sitting at a table.

We saw each other at the same time, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Karen sat for just a few seconds, jumped up, ran to me and threw her arms around my neck. I was stunned; so much for all my planning. It is difficult to hold on to an armful of woman with a big draft beer in your hand, so I set the beer down and hugged her back. "Men plan and the gods laugh"; remember that.

That was the beginning of our romance. We were officially an item, a couple, dating, whatever. We weren't sexual for about a month; three and a half weeks to be exact. The first time we were intimate may have been the most perfect I had ever had. After that, sleeping with anyone else would have been a waste of time. Our times together were comfortable, exciting, hot, passionate, and almost life changing; and that was every time and I do mean every time. We couldn't spend enough time together, not just for sex, but for being with and talking to each other. I found myself liking her as well as being in love with her. I was working at a bar to help with college expenses, so our time was limited. We dated for the rest of our senior year and got engaged on graduation day.

We had decided on a fairly long engagement and planned to get married about a year and a half after graduation. This would give us time to put together a little nest egg. Karen was working at an insurance company and I had started at the warehouse. Things didn't work out quite that way.

About six weeks before our planned wedding, I went to a bachelor party for one of the guys in the old study group. I didn't consider him a close friend, but there were only going to be six or eight guys there. Not much of a turn out; so I went to the party to help him celebrate. The party was to take place at a hotel and start about 8:00. I thought a bar or strip club would have been better, but I was just a guest and not a very interested one at that. The first person I saw when I walked into the hotel room was my ex-friend Chuck. He was a close friend of the best man and it was him that had sent me the invitation to the party.

Chuck walked over to me and said, "Glad you came. Jerry (the groom) would have been sad if you didn't. I'm happy to see you too. I feel bad about what happened between us. Should have came to see you and apologized a long time ago. Guess my pride was stopping me, but anyway, I'm sorry. I hope we can be friends again."

"Okay Chuck, no big deal. We can let go of things in the past," I said. I had to say something, but I really didn't care if we were friends or not. I had the only friend I needed, Karen.

The bachelor party proceeded with the usual drinking, porn movies, bullshitting, and ragging on the groom to be. Around 10:00 Chuck answered a knock at the door and two young ladies entered the room. One look at them and the way they were dressed told you their occupation. STRIPPERS. They grabbed Jerry, put him in a chair in the middle of the room and began their act. You have all seen or heard about strippers at a bachelor party. These two didn't do anything new or outlandish.

I wasn't happy being there with strippers. Don't get me wrong, I like looking at the female form very much, and these two were worth looking at. I just didn't think Karen would appreciate me being there with these two young ladies. I had told her, that knowing Jerry, the most erotic thing would probably be some old porn movies.

The rest of the guys seemed determined to drink the county dry, but I had been nursing drinks all night. Just for the record, I had two, count them, two beers since I got there at 8:00. The one in my hand was number three and the last I intended to drink that night. About half an hour into the "show", I decided to leave, but I began to feel a little funny. I was having trouble focusing on things, trouble standing, and slurring my words. If I didn't know better, I would have thought I was shit faced. I didn't have enough to be tipsy, much less drunk. Someone led me into one of the bedrooms in the suite and began to take off my clothes. I tried to stop them, but Chuck told me to relax. They were going to put me to bed so I could sleep it off before I went back home to Karen.

Morning arrived and I woke up with a pounding head. I normally don't get hangovers because I usually don't drink much. This must have been an exception; I had the king of all hangovers. It was strange; I remembered that I only drank three beers last night. I looked at the time, it was 11:00 A.M.; shit, past time to go. I got out of bed and realized that I was totally nude. Lying on the bed next to me was a pair of lace panties and I recalled that one of the strippers had been wearing them. I went into the bathroom and glanced at myself in the mirror as I headed for the toilet. SHOCK, STOP, LOOK. The reflection from the mirror showed a guy with lipstick all over him. I had lipstick and lip prints all over my face, my chest, and down to my groin. Checking, I even saw some on my penis. What the hell? What had gone on last night? The last thing I remember was feeling woozy and being taken into the bedroom; someone was undressing me and telling me to sleep it off. That's it; the lights went out from there.

There wasn't anyone in the hotel suite. I got dressed and went back to my apartment. My shirt and my underwear were missing, but I made it home without anyone noticing the lack of a shirt under my jacket. Thank god, Karen wasn't there. I was able to get into the shower and get rid of the lipstick. After drying off, I got dressed and noticed the message light blinking on the phone. I hit the button to hear the messages, and wished I hadn't.

The message was from Karen. It had come in at 7:20 A.M. She began ranting and raving about me being a cheating S.O.B., the engagement was off, and she never wanted to see me again. What? The message was so long that it quit recording after three minutes. There was more on the second message. Same theme, I was a cheating asshole, she hates me, should have know better, yada yada yada. Same song and verse all over again. What the hell is going on? I had done nothing wrong, or had I? Remembering the panties in bed with me, the lipstick all over me, and the missing clothes, I had to wonder if I had been a cheating asshole. 

It didn't feel right. I don't believe I would have cheated on Karen, no matter how drunk I had been. How could I have gotten drunk on three beers anyway? Even if I had gone to the dark side, how did Karen know about it so quickly? Her first message was at 7:20, her next one at 7:35. How had she found out about my supposed cheating by 7:20, when it would have happened about 11:00 or 11:30 the previous night? This whole thing didn't make sense. Something or someone was fucking with me; with both Karen and me.

I called Karen's place and her roomy answered and wasn't very friendly. Sue told me Karen was gone and she didn't know where.

"Bullshit, Sue, you know but you won't tell me. She wouldn't have gone anywhere without telling you. You are her best friend, you are going to be her Maid of Honor and she would have told you so you wouldn't worry. Where the hell is she Sue?"

"I can't tell you what I don't know Jack." 

"Okay but if you hear from her ask her to call me please."

I waited for a couple of minutes and called Sue again. The line was busy. I knew she was calling Karen to tell her I had called. Don't know where she is my ass; I got into my truck and drove over to the apartment where Karen and Sue lived. I got out and stood by the entrance to the building and dialed their number with my cell phone. Sue answered the phone.

"Sue I know you know where Karen is. You have already called her to let her know about me calling. I'm coming over to your place to make you tell me where she is. Be there soon." Then I hung up.

As I expected a few minutes later, Sue came rushing out of the building. She had planned to be gone by the time I got there. Surprise, surprise, surprise, I grabbed her by the arm as she went by my hiding place. She squeaked when she saw it was me.

"Sue, enough bullshit. What is going on? Why did Karen leave? What is the meaning of the messages she left me? Please I need your help, the woman I love is accusing me of cheating, she has left town, and I'm in the dark. Please tell me, what is going on? Where is she?" By this time I had tears in my eyes, I was lost.

"Okay Jack. Karen told me that you screwed one or both of the strippers at the bachelor party. She said she had proof and she was breaking the engagement. I saw the pictures she had showing you in bed with both women. How could you Jack?"




Truth 1 - Lies 0



"I couldn't, I wouldn't, and I didn't screw anyone at the bachelor party or anywhere else. Sue please, tell me where she is, I need to talk to her."

"Karen refused to tell me where she was going; she was afraid you could charm the info out of me. So she didn't tell me, she just left a phone number so I can call her."

"Is it her cell phone? I have called it already and she has it turned off."

"No, I think it's the phone where she is staying."

"Give me the number Sue. I'll find her and straighten this out."

"I can't, she made me promise not to help you. She would be mad if she knew I helped you."

"I won't tell her, I'll tell her I back tracked the number from the messages she left on my voice mail."

"Can you do that?"

"Damned if I know. If I talk to her and she doesn't believe me I'm screwed anyway. If she does believe me, she will be mad at you for keeping me away from her, so you're screwed too. Give me the number Sue."

Sue handed me an index card with a phone number and the name Karen on it. I checked the area code and it hit me. I know where she is.

"Thanks Sue, I would kiss you, but it would probably just get me in deeper. Thanks, you may have just saved our upcoming marriage."

I ran to my truck, jumped in and started out of town. I knew where Karen was. Karen's brother Randy lives in a little town about an hour west of us. That area code was the code for the district that small town is in. When I got to Moberly, I had no idea where Randy lived. So I started to play detective. I started with a local tavern, but just verified that Randy lived in that town. No matter where I went, all I could find was that Randy lived in Moberly. I couldn't just come out and ask where he lived as the people would be suspicious, and I still wouldn't get the info I needed. They also might inform the police about the stranger checking up on Randy. Then I had what proved to be a brainstorm. I went to get my hair cut. Barbers know everyone and everything in a small town. They are better than bartenders as a source of information.

I got a haircut that I really didn't want. However after forty five minutes in the barber chair shooting the breeze with the old guy cutting my hair, I found out where Randy lived. I immediately went by the house to check it out. It wouldn't do to have Karen or Randy spot me. She might leave again and this time I might not be able to find her.

After two days I realized no one was home. Randy may live there but not at the moment. I had also found out where Randy worked. A phone call to his job got the info that he was gone on vacation for ten days. No need to hang around if they weren't there, so I went back to my apartment. In ten days, I drove back to Moberly and to Randy's place. Now the lights were on and a car was in the driveway. Now what do I do? Should I knock on the door, should I call, should I just go away?

I decided after all my work I had to at least try knocking on the door. Maybe I would get lucky and Karen would answer the door. No such luck. This mountain opened the door and asked what I wanted. I guessed that this giant was Randy. I had never met him and didn't realize he was so big. Now I know why Karen had told Chuck that her brother would rip off his head.

Let me introduce you to Randy, he is an important part of this story. Randy is 6 feet 6, and weighs about 265 pounds. He isn't fat, just big. He had been a pro football player, but had to retire after screwing up his shoulder. His shoulder was now okay, but he couldn't play football anymore. In addition, he is very intelligent. He is Karen's only living relative; their parents were killed in an auto accident when Karen was 14. He was 19 at the time and raised Karen by himself. Okay you get the idea, not only is Randy a giant, he is a smart giant. This was Karen's protector and the one running interference for her. Lord help me.

I told Randy I wanted to see Karen and he replied that she didn't want to see me. 

"Yeah, I know who you are Jack. She told me you were the last person on earth she wanted to talk to. Frankly if it were up to me, I would kick your ass so bad, you couldn't talk to anyone. What you did really sucked. You should go."

"Randy, I know who you are too. I don't want to piss you off, but I'm not leaving until I talk to Karen. I didn't do what I am being accused of. You might as well kick my ass, but I'm not leaving."

So that's exactly what Randy did. He beat the hell out of me. If you call about four punches beating the hell out me, that's what he did. Then he called to police and had me arrested for trespassing. The police took me to the station, which doubled as a jail, and locked me up. The next morning, the let me out and told me to leave town. If I came back and caused more trouble they would send me to a jail in the city. I could have fought city hall on this one, but the cards were stacked against me. So I went back home, but I wasn't done yet.

A full court press was needed to get to Karen, so I started one. I called Randy's place every day and left messages. They had the number changed and I couldn't get the new one. I called her cell, but she got a new one very quickly; again I couldn't get the new number. I tried talking to Sue, but Karen hadn't given her the new numbers because Sue gave me Randy's number to begin with. There was one other number I could call. I swallowed the lump in my throat and started to call Randy at his job. I knew this was dangerous, he might come to my house and finish the job of kicking my ass. If he did, oh well. I had to talk to Karen. Randy stopped me calling his work by having the police make a visit to me. If I didn't stop, I was going to jail. I couldn't get to Karen if I was in jail, so I stopped. 

The next step was a letter writing campaign. I wrote to Karen c/o Randy's house three times a week. I also wrote to her c/o Randy's job three times a week, but I had to stop those letters, because of the same reason as the phone calls. Karen or Randy would mark the letters: return to sender or no such person and have them returned to me. Didn't make any difference, I just put new postage on them and mailed them again. I spent a lot of money on postage during those weeks. If you send a registered letter, the person has to sign for it. They refused delivery on those types of letters. I was pissing them off but not getting any closer to Karen. I did receive one letter from Karen, a package actually, the engagement ring and a note to leave her alone. Doesn't look good for the home team folks.

Then I caught a break. A guy I knew told me he had seen Karen and some big guy at Smokey Joe's BBQ Palace two Saturday nights in a row. The guy who told me was Jerry. Remember him from the bachelor party?

Jerry told me what happened at the party and for the first time I could breathe easier. I hadn't cheated on Karen. Jerry told me that Chuck had set me up to get even with me for not lying for him, years ago. He said he should have been with Karen instead of me and if I had backed his story he would have been. Jerry told me Chuck had spiked that last beer I had. He then got the strippers to put lip prints all over me. Chuck was going to have the strippers screw me, but I was too messed up to get an erection, so he settled for the pictures. He had the strippers put lip prints on my underwear and shirt to show to Karen also.

After telling me this, Jerry said, "I'm sorry Jack. I didn't know what he was doing. I was so drunk by the time Chuck started messing with you that I didn't even know my own name."

"Its okay Jerry, you were not involved with his shitty plan. I don't hold it against you. Thanks for the information you gave me, it will be a big help. Thank you very much."

"If I see Chuck should I say anything to him about our conversation?" Jerry asked.

"Yeah, tell him karma is a bitch and this time she has PMS. Tell him Hell is coming his way and I'm coming with it. Then you better pray for his soul." 

The next Saturday night, I was sitting at the bar in Smokey Joe's waiting for Karen and Randy. They didn't show. The following week, I was there again. I saw them come in and get a table. After they placed their order, I walked over to the table. Randy had his back to me and Karen was sitting across the table from him. When I got near them, Karen looked up and realized who was standing by their table. Her jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide.

I looked at Karen and said, "Honey, we really need to talk. I know it looks bad, but I can explain everything. Please talk with me."

She just shook her head and answered, "How did you find me? There is nothing to talk about. Go away and leave me alone."

"Come on Karen, even a criminal gets to defend himself in court. Don't I deserve at least that much consideration?"

"You don't deserve anything," she said. "You hurt me and broke my heart. Leave me alone."

Thank god the chairs at Joe's had arms on them. Randy was so big he was having trouble getting out of his chair because of the arms. That was the only reason I got to talk to Karen as much as I did. Sadly, Randy was able to get up out of the chair just as Karen told me to leave her alone. 

"I told you before, she doesn't want to talk to you," Randy said as he started at me. "Get the hell away from her, you little shit."

"Randy you are the one guy in the world I don't want to piss off, but this is none of you business. Stay the hell out of it or there will be trouble."

A bit of advice here, never tell an angry 6 foot 8 giant that you are going to cause him trouble. Randy hit me so hard; I think my dad got a headache from it. I heard Karen scream and that's about all I remember until I woke up in jail. The cops let me go in the morning and told me Randy wasn't going to press charges for attacking him. They told me to leave town and not to come back. 

"Bite me," I told them as I walked to my truck. Really smart, I had Randy and the cops on my case now. No matter, I now had a plan of action; possibly a painful plan, but a plan never the less.

The next two Saturdays, I was at Joe's hoping Karen and Randy would come in again. No luck, they didn't come in. While sitting at his bar on the first of these Saturdays, I told Smokey Joe my story. He didn't have a problem with my guerrilla tactics as long as I paid for any damage and he wished me luck. He did tell me Randy was very stubborn and that I had my work cut out for me.

The third Saturday saw me sitting in my usual place at Smokey Joe's bar. Almost healed from the last beating, I hoped I would have better luck this time. I heard Randy talking before I saw them. They took the same table as before. Joe whispered, good luck, buddy. I walked to their table just like before. As I got there, Karen looked up and said oh no, not again. Randy turned and said you have got to be kidding me. He was having trouble getting out of his chair again. 

"Karen we need to talk. I thought you loved me and you aren't giving me a fair chance here. Please let me explain."

"There's no need to talk, I saw the pictures. Pictures of you with two women. I hope you had fun, because it cost you our marriage. Go away and leave me alone."

By this time Randy was standing and started toward me. He was saying something about ripping out my throat so I couldn't talk. I didn't quite catch it all.

I held up my hands to stop him and said, "Randy give me one minute and then you can kick my ass again. Guys, I'm not stopping. Don't care how many times Randy beats the hell out of me, I'm not stopping. I will keep coming back Karen until you talk to me. If you have me arrested, I will get out of jail sometime and I will be back again. If you put me in the hospital, when I heal I will be back"

Randy looked over to Karen; she shook her head. "She still doesn't want to talk to you Jack. You had better leave before you get hurt again."

"Please Karen, just ten minutes," I pleaded. She didn't even look at me. I turned back to Randy and said, "Okay, come get some big guy."

I ducked under his first punch and hit him in the throat with a good shot. He grabbed his neck and sort of staggered. Hey, I got a chance here, I thought to myself. Yeah right. His second punch missed my head but hit my shoulder and knocked me down. Then he grabbed me with those big hands. He walked me to the door, hit me on the side of the head, and threw me out of Joe's. I made it to my truck before I passed out.

Okay, that brings us up to date as I sit here. It has been two weeks since the last confrontation. Karen and Randy have come in and sat at their usual table. I'm beginning to think Karen is wavering about not talking to me. Why else would she and Randy keep coming to Smokey Joe's? There are other BBQ joints around. She knows how stubborn I can be and that I will keep coming back.

Karen's eyes widen as I walk up to the table. Randy was sitting in a chair without arms and had no trouble standing up this time. He looks at me with a little smile on his face. I just stare at Karen.

Before I can speak Randy says, "You are a persistent little shit, aren't you?"

"Randy I told you I would keep coming back. The only way to stop me is to hurt me so bad I never recover or kill me. Your choice big guy or Karen you could agree to talk to me for ten minutes." 

"She still doesn't want to talk to you, Jack," Randy told me. "Just give it up before I have to really hurt you, please."

I think Randy was coming over to my side or at least had gained some respect for my stubborn streak. 

"Randy, I have taken it easy on you up to now. I know you love your sister and are just protecting her. However, I am getting the hell beat out of me here and I will have to start defending myself. I'm not saying I can stop you, big guy, but I am saying you are going to hurt more than you have before. Please just stay out of it." 

"Jack, your mouth is writing checks you body can't cash. Leave or this is going to get serious."

Oh well, I tried. "Take your best shot, big guy," I told Randy.

The first time Randy and I danced, I hadn't really expected him to hit me. The second time, I thought that my punch might make him realize, that I wasn't going to go easy. That punch did not have the desired effect as he kicked my ass anyway. This time, I had to do what I could to get him to back off. I couldn't take many more beatings.

In both of our previous encounters, I had just stood there as Randy advanced on me. Not this time, I started to move around to his left. He sort of turned with me but he kept getting his feet tangled up. Finally he roared, I mean he actually roared like a lion or something, and charged me. 

I let him come to me and as he did I ducked under his outstretched arms and stepped to one side. When I got beside him, I kicked the side of his leg right at the knee. He went down on his stomach. He landed hard. (I had learned a few things at the bar where I worked while in school.) I was one of three bouncers. I watch the veterans and learned.

From that point on, it was just a world of pain. Randy got up and started for me again, he was moving slower but he wasn't stopping. I tried my best Mohammad Ali impression, you know "float like a butterfly, sting like a bee", but I had neither the speed nor the talent to make it work. Oh I was stinging like a bee but I floated like a drunken elephant. I don't know if I was hurting him but I knew he was really hurting me. Finally winded, tired and bleeding, we both paused for a moment. That's when Karen started yelling at us.

"Stop, oh please stop. You are going to kill each other. Stop this now," she demanded.

"All I want is ten minutes Karen. Randy can sit in on our talk, if you want. TEN MINUTES KAREN. Talk to me, or we can do this all over again."

She looked at me and then at Randy. Randy just shrugged as if to say, I'm good. Karen said, "Okay, ten minutes and then you'll leave?"

"Yeah, ten minutes and then I'll leave. No questions while I'm talking though. I need the full ten minutes. I will answer any questions after I'm done. Okay?"

I went to the bar and got two bar towels and some ice from Joe to make ice packs with. I put one on Randy's knee and used the other on my face.

I sat down across from Karen and she said, "Go ahead."

"Karen, you say you have pictures to prove that I cheated on you. Well, I have a witness to prove those pictures were faked."

"Who would do such a thing?"

"Remember, no questions until I'm done," I reminded her. "Jerry is my witness." I informed her of what Jerry said about the night at the bachelor party. "Call him, if you like. Believe me; Jerry's story about that night has answered a lot of questions for me."

I continued to talk until my time was almost up. "That's it, I have told you everything," I said. "Now I will answer any questions you may have."

"Why would Chuck pull such a dirty trick on us? It doesn't make any sense."

"Remember what Jerry told me? Chuck believes you two would still be together if I had backed up his story the night you broke up with him. I don't know if he just wants you for himself or revenge on me, maybe both. Also, who brought all the so called proof to your attention? 

"Chuck called and brought the pictures and stuff to my place at 11:00 the night of the party." "Why would Chuck want to tell you about the party so late at night? He didn't want me to have a chance to explain what went on to you." What questions did Jerry's tale answer for you? What didn't you know before?"

"Well, I decided to leave when the strippers came in. I knew you would not appreciate me staying. I never made it to the door; all of a sudden I was so drunk I couldn't walk. So how did I get so drunk on just three beers and I didn't even finish the third one? What happened to my underwear and shirt? I could understand the underwear missing, but not the shirt. Jerry's story also explained how you found out about the party so quickly. The most important question I asked myself was how could I cheat on you? I don't believe I could ever get that drunk."

Karen was sitting, watching and listening to me. She had tears in her eyes. I heard her say I don't know, I just don't know, and my heart sank. She didn't believe me. It was time for me to leave. I had my ten minutes and more, it was all I could do.

I reached across the table and took Karen's hand. Randy sat up and leaned forward. I held up my other hand to him to stop him. I slipped the engagement ring back on her finger.

"Take me at my word or take it off Karen. I have just one more thing to say. I HAVE NEVER LIED TO YOU. I DON'T LIE. You know that. I explained why to you before, and it's one of the reasons you fell in love with me. I AM NOT LYING NOW. You should have talked to me in person before running off. Call Jerry if you have to." I paused trying to think of anything else that should be said; decided I had said it all.

"I'm done, Karen. There is nothing left to say and I can't take anymore beatings. I need to go to the ER now; I think my nose is broken. Good bye Karen, I love you."

With that I got up and left. My cell phone began to ring after I had driven about thirty miles. It was Karen, I shut the phone off. There had been enough phone calls and letters. If she wants to talk she knows where I live. I know I had gone through all this to talk to her so why wouldn't I take her call. In my mind she should have accepted my story when I told her, not several minutes later. I know stupid pride, but I deserve instant gratification; I had earned it the hard way. I drove back to my home, put more ice on my face and collapsed into bed. 

The next morning, after my ears quit ringing and the Advil kicked in, I sat and thought about my ten minutes. Could I have said anything else or more. Didn't think so, I just told the truth without embellishment; that's all I can do. I went to the ER and had my nose checked out, it wasn't broken. They did want to keep me to work on the rest of my beat up body but I walked out.




Truth 1 - Lies 0



I returned to my place, took a few more Advil, and napped for a couple of hours. It was 12:30 when I woke up and I was hungry. That's a good sign; maybe I won't die after all. I took a shower, being very careful with the bruised parts of my body and face. Getting dressed, I headed out to get some lunch and maybe some liquid pain killer. As I got to my door, someone knocked on it, hard. It was more a pounding than knocking. What the hell? I opened the door to find Randy standing there. He didn't look in the best of moods. I took a step back and looked at him for a short time. "What now Randy," I asked? "Maybe you think you didn't do enough damage to me yesterday; after all I am still walking. What the hell do you want?"

"Could I talk to you for a minute, please? Karen is going crazy and I can't calm her down. I thought that together we might get her to settle down."

"I must have rattled you brain yesterday if you think she wants me around. You heard her; she wants me to leave her alone. Karen hasn't tried to contact me or make any response to my explanation; it's obvious she didn't believe me. So tell me again, why should I help in calming her down?"

"After you left the bar, she was really upset. When you wouldn't answer your phone, she really freaked out," Randy told me. "I tried to get her to mellow out, but she was really hurting. She said that she should have known you wouldn't cheat on her, especially with those two lowlifes. My sis berated herself for not confronting you in person; she said she should have never run away. The whole time she was crying so hard, I almost couldn't understand what she was saying. I had to take her home and put her to bed."

"Randy I did everything possible to get that face to face time with her. You know I did. The phone calls to your house and your job, the letters that I just kept resending after you guys returned them or refused to accept delivery, and the one you enjoyed the most, the beatings at Smokey Joe's. Unless you want to dance some more, get the hell away from me, or as Karen said LEAVE ME ALONE. I have had enough of you two."

"Who are you trying to kid, Jack?" You're hurting as bad as she is."

"Maybe, but she is the one who........."

"Does it really make any difference? She was wrong and made a mistake. That didn't stop you from loving her. If you didn't love her, you wouldn't have tangled with me. Not just once, but three times. Let me tell you something else. I could have really hurt you, but the second time we saw you at Joe's, Karen told me to take it easy. Just so you know I did take it easy on you. She didn't want you to be hurt too badly. She loves you too. That's why she is freaking out right now." 

"That was taking it easy on me? She still hasn't tried to contact me. What does that tell you?"

"How can she call you when you have turned both off your cell and home phones? Is she supposed to use smoke signals? Don't get all high and mighty here Jack; you have made it hard to contact you since you left the bar."

"Randy, I didn't lie to her. I told her the truth and she didn't believe me. I have never lied to Karen; she should have accepted my explanation. There have been enough secret phone numbers and enough phone calls. If Karen wants to talk to me, she knows where I live. She could have come here just as easy as you did."

"She thinks she has lost you, since you won't accept her calls. Last night as I put her to bed she said she had to find Chuck."

"Chuck, she's going back to Chuck now? Well shit, that says it all. That asshole ruins my life and he ends up with my girl. Ain't that just special?"

"You don't understand. She's not going back to him, she going to beat the hell out of him. Karen went to bed mumbling about getting payback on Chuck. I think she may make him into a soprano. She knows she did something stupid, but he's the one that set up the whole thing. At least call her and tell her to come see you."

"Don't think so big guy. I TOLD HER THE TRUTH LAST NIGHT; I'll say it again, if she wants to talk Karen knows where I live." 

Randy stared at me intensely and then said, "I'm going to give you a good piece of advice. You may not want to listen to me, but I'm going to tell you anyway. Don't let your pride screw up something that could be wonderful. Ask yourself; are you better off with Karen or without her?"

I looked at Randy and was thinking about his advice. He stood up and walked to the door. When he got there he turned to me and smiled. "Just think about all the great make up sex you guys can have if you get back together," Randy said and walked out the door.

Randy hadn't been gone for 30 seconds when I decided he was right. I was better with Karen than without her and I was being a stupid ass. I jumped up and followed him out. I caught him on the street as he was getting into his car. 

"I will follow you back to your place, Randy." I told him. "You're right, I'm happier with her than without her."

As we started to return to Randy's place, Karen drove up and stopped near us. She jumped out of her car and ran to where I was standing.

"Jack, Jack, please forgive me, I......" Then she broke down, sobbing so hard she could hardly breathe.

I stepped over to her and took her in my arms. What I said to her isn't important; she just needed to know I was there. Karen stopped crying in short time and just held onto me. After talking softly together for a few minutes, she was almost back to normal. We stepped apart and looked around; Randy was leaning against his car. He was smiling like it was Christmas; I think I saw tears in his eyes too.

Karen composed herself and then said, "You and I really need to talk, but afterwards we need to find Chuck. He's gonna find that payback is a bitch." Randy added that he was all for finding the guy that had caused his little sister so much misery. 

"Hold on you blood thirsty twosome. What's going to happen if we find him? I asked. I'll tell what will happen, one or maybe all of us are going to jail. I doubt Chuck would bring charges against Karen. You know damn good and well he would against Randy or me." 

Karen and I agreed we had more important things to do than search for Chuck. Randy went along with us; I'm not sure he agreed, but he went along. We had a wedding to plan; actually we had to redo everything as we had missed our original date. More importantly Karen and I had a lot of makeup sex to get started on.

Five weeks later, we were married. Randy walked Karen down the aisle and my dad was my best man. Sue was her maid of honor or whatever that is. I was as happy as a puppy with two peters, oops can't say that, I was very happy. We moved into my place for a little while and then found a nice house to rent. Later we bought that house.

For those readers who think I wimped out with my speech about waiting for revenge and being worried about going to jail: cool your jets. That's what I told Karen and Randy. I put on a man hunt that would have made the FBI proud. He was nowhere in town or in any of the towns close by. I spent what spare time I had looking for the jerk. About four or five weeks after I really started to look for him, I ran into Jerry. You remember Jerry, my buddy, my pal, the guy that saved Karen and I. He told me that he had given Chuck my message about karma and me telling Jerry to pray for Chuck's soul. Chuck made one of the best moves ever. He left town. Not only did he leave town, he left the country. He enlisted in the Army and got out of Dodge. Smartest thing he has ever done. If Karen, Randy, or I had found him, he may not have survived as a whole man. Randy had once told me what he was going to do to Chuck. It wasn't pretty.

Anyway, that was five years and two children ago. Karen and I had a son eighteen months after we got married. We named him Randal Jackson, after Karen's brother and my dad. Two years after Randal, we had a daughter, Melissa Sue. Melissa after Karen's mom and Sue after Karen's old roommate. 

One year after we were married, I was promoted from assistant to inventory manager. Two years later I was made manager of the entire warehouse. I got a big raise, a company car, and stock options and all kinds of neat stuff. Karen has been promoted a couple of times at the insurance agency also. Things are good. We have a great marriage, two wonderful kids and a nice income to take care of us. What more could you want, right? 

Remember Karma. Well it raised its' ugly head a little over three years after our wedding. I had to interview an applicant to join us in the inventory division of the warehouse. As manager I had to approve any additions to the team. My secretary brought his application in and the guy followed her into my office. We were both stunned. It was my old pal Chuck.

He recovered and said under his breath, oh shit. Then to me he said, "I didn't know, I'll leave."

"Sit down Chuck. I need to look at your resume for a minute and then we can talk."

"What do you mean? You won't hire me after what I did. I'll just go and not waste anymore of your time."

"I'm the manager; I'll decide who I will hire and what is a waste of time. At least in this warehouse. Give me a minute."

Chuck sat down very tentatively and waited for me. I was thinking a mile a minute. This could be excellent, I could get my revenge. Then it was like a light going off in my head. After Chuck had joined the Army and I hadn't been able to find him, I had pretty much forgotten about him. I had still been angry with Chuck (angry, hell, I was killing mad) but I had nowhere to go with it. So I put it out of my head and got on with my life.

Now the anger was back, but it just messed up my brain. Did I want to let that anger screw me up or should I let it go? I had gotten what I wanted: Karen and a family. Why should I let the anger affect the good place I was in? I know, all that lovingly philosophical, turn the other cheek, and the world is round we'll get there type of tree hugger bullshit. It was true though. I had won, Chuck lost. Period. That was good enough for me.

I interviewed Chuck for about 45 minutes and decided he would be a good fit for the team. All things considered, I thought he could be an asset for the company. I just had to turn the knife a little, I couldn't help myself.

"Chuck, what you did to Karen and I was maybe the worst thing ever done to either of us. If Karen, her brother Randy, or I could have found you back then, well you wouldn't have liked the outcome. We all do stupid things when we are young and I'm willing to think of what you did as such. You've got the job, if you still want it. I will be your direct supervisor. 

"Thanks Jack. After I joined the Army, I was able to look at my life in a different light. I was a real ass and I am sorry. Take it for what it's worth."

"Before you accept the position, hear this. I am your boss and will be on you like white on rice if you screw up. No bull shit with the girls in the office or the guys in the warehouse. One complaint and you're gone. I'm going to watch you like the FBI and at the first screw up you're gone. This is a three strike work place and you already have two strikes on you before you start. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, Jack, I understand," Chuck answered.

"On the other hand, do the job for me and you will get raises, bonuses, and promotions as they are warranted. Your choice, what do you say Chuck?"

"I'll take the job Jack and thanks."

I dreaded to tell Karen about Chuck. Sure that she would into her search and destroy mode and I would have to calm her down. What a surprise. When I told her she said about the same thing I had. We all did stupid things when were young and full of piss and vinegar. She said she had forgotten about him. How nice, I thought.

About 2 months after Chuck came to work for me, there was a little incident I found interesting. Chuck was doing a good job and worked well with the rest of the team. Then one Monday morning when he came to work, he didn't look all that good. He looked like he had gone ten hard rounds with George Foreman. Chuck had a split lip, a black eye and several other bruises and scrapes. 

"What the hell, Chuck, what happened," I asked?

"I went to Smokey Joe's Saturday night and some guy named Randy was there. Never having met him, I didn't know who he was. He sure knew who I was thought. After introducing himself as Karen's brother, he gave me a little touch up. He told me it was to show me, in a small way what should have happened to me. Then he said that this was a very small piece of karma. Made me think of what you told Jerry years ago. If this was just a small piece, I'm glad you guys didn't find me. Anyway it's all good, we had a beer together and I left on good terms, I hope," Chuck finished his story.

At the end of the second quarter of the year, our company had a little party. We were having a good year, and the owners wanted to thank all their people. Employees and a guest were invited to a big bash at the Hilton. Karen and I got all dressed up and went to the party with Randy and Sue. I had wrangled an invite for Randy. We entered the ballroom and almost the first person we ran into was Chuck. He saw us, smiled sheepishly and came to meet us. It was the first time he and Karen had met, since he had left town.

"Hello Karen, you look very nice tonight," Chuck said to her.

"Hi Chuck, I have been looking forward to seeing you." Karen delivered a right cross to Chuck's jaw that would have done justice to Mike Tyson. Chuck almost went down. "Now I feel much better. Good to see you Chuck. Come dear, out table is over there." 

We left Chuck standing there and went to our table. I was almost in shock and Randy was laughing like a maniac. Karen leaned over, kissed me, put hand to my face, and smiled at me.

"I know what I said about mistakes made in our youth, but I just couldn't face him without some payback," she said. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

"Not a problem, I just don't want you mad at me," I told her as I laughed.

Randy and Sue are now an item and things may be getting serious between them. I hope so; they both deserve someone good in their lives. Karen and I are expecting another child, guess it happened the night of the company party. It was a wild night, in more than one way.

To quote a favorite writer of mine: Life goes on.



Truth



***You'll need to read my previous work, Christmas Party and Anticipation to get the back-story to this, but it should read as a stand-alone story as well! Feedback & comments appreciated! ***

I stared at my phone, reading the text from Greg over and over. My stomach was churning and I thought I was going to be sick. He knew. He knew about Ceri and I. I didn't know how he'd found out, but I knew that I was screwed. He was my boss, and I'd shagged his fiancée! I might as well kiss goodbye to my job now.

The thing that cut deeper, though, was that if Ceri stuck by her man, then I'd never get to fully explore my feelings for her. Thinking about it now, I realised that I had totally fallen for her. Her smile, her filthy mind, her sense of adventure, her ability to make me laugh as we talked for hours, her toned body, everything about her... I wanted it in my life. 

And yet... I wondered if maybe, just maybe, when it came down to it, she might decide that she'd rather be with me. After all, she'd seduced me at the Christmas party -- I had never even kissed a girl before that -- and ever since, all the first moves had been made by her. I had surprised myself, because with men I'm confident, flirty and self-assured, but with Ceri I had reverted to my fifteen-year old self, who'd never had a date, and never been kissed.

I chewed on my bottom lip, stressed out. My mobile vibrated again in my hand, making me jump. It was a text from her.

"We need 2 talk. Can I cum round?"

Guardedly, I thought for a minute before composing my reply. "Of course. x"

My flatmate Katie was out with her footballer boyfriend Ben, so I was alone in the flat, and I realised that above anything else, I needed to see my beautiful Ceri. 

Fuck, I was starting to think of her as "mine". I shook my head quickly, trying to dislodge the thought before it consumed me. She was engaged to my boss, I couldn't forget that. 

The buzzer went almost before I realised it. I let her in, and stood by the flat door, waiting for her to arrive. I heard her footsteps in the stairwell, uncertain, clearly trying to figure out which of the flats was mine.

I threw open the door, and stood, hands on hips, glowering at her as I consciously tried to control the situation.

Her lovely face was ashen, her eyes bloodshot, mascara streaked down both cheeks and her long blonde hair haphazardly pulled into a high ponytail. 

"Jasmine," she gasped, looking forlornly at me, her former poise and confidence seemingly shattered.

"What the fuck, Ceri?" I demanded, slamming the flat door behind her. "What happened?"

She gulped, fresh tears welling in her almond-shaped blue eyes as she stared at me. "He saw a text on my phone. He's been suspicious for ages now, I honestly never thought he'd check my phone though..."

I met her gaze, trying to see if she was telling me the whole truth. Wheels were starting to turn in my head. "How do you mean, for ages?" I said slowly. "We only met at Christmas?"

She dropped her eyes to the floor, and I realised. "I'm not the first one, am I?" I croaked, slumping backwards against the flat door and feeling as though someone had just chucked a bucket of cold water over me.

She couldn't meet my eyes.

"So, what then? Am I just a notch on your bedpost?" The lump forming in my throat threatened to choke me.

Her head snapped up at that. "No! Of course not! I'm not seeing anyone else besides you..."

"And your fiancé," I bitterly reminded her, hot, angry tears spilling onto my cheeks.

Her mouth was on mine before I had time to think. Urgent, hungry, desperate kisses, I was sure she could feel my uncertainty as I hesitated before kissing her back. "Don't hate me, Jas," she whispered, twisting her manicured nails softly into my dark hair and raining kisses on my cheeks, my forehead, my neck, my lips. 

"I... I fucking love you, Ceri!"

She didn't reply, but instead paused for a moment, her blue eyes filled with some emotion I couldn't place, before pinning me up against the door and slipping her tongue into my mouth, her hands greedily roaming over my body as she pulled my hoodie up, breaking our kiss for just seconds as she pulled the garment over my head, her tongue returning to my mouth as she guided me away from the door and into the living room. 

Pushing me back onto the couch, she deftly slid her fingers under the waistband of my pyjama bottoms, into my plain black thong, expertly finding my clit and stroking softly. Soft, nimble fingers, stroking away my worries, making me forget there was anyone in the world besides me and her.

"I love you," I repeated, letting her pull my pyjama bottoms and thong off, leaving me in just my bra as I lay spread-eagled on the couch. 

She looked up at me, her long eyelashes still damp from her earlier tears. "I know," she said simply, gently easing my legs apart and settling herself between them, moving her tongue to my pussy and starting to lick gently. 

I closed my eyes, revelling in the feeling of her hot tongue as she flicked my clit back and forwards, her hands pressed against my inner thighs, her hair softly tickling against my legs as she licked and kissed my pussy. 

"You taste amazing," she breathed, gently pushing a finger inside me, opening up my cunt for her tongue to slip inside. 

I couldn't reply with anything more coherent than a moan.

I reached down, running my fingers through the molten gold of her hair, relishing this moment spent with her. Hot tears welled in the corners of my eyes as I realised this might be the last time I saw her, and I squeezed them tightly shut to try and block the feeling out.

"Jas," she whispered, sliding herself up my body, kissing me again, her tongue entwining itself around mine, letting me taste my own sweet pussy as my juices cooled on her lips. Automatically, my hands wandered to her breasts, cupping them through her t-shirt, hearing her moan as I squeezed gently.

She pulled her own top up, over her head, unhooking her bra in a fluid motion, kicking off her boots as she fought to be naked on top of me.

I unbuttoned her jeans, pushing them down her slender hips, getting them as far as her knees before I couldn't reach any further. She kicked those off beside the boots, and her expensive satin knickers joined the pile a second later.

I felt the hot wetness of her pussy mingle with my own as she ground her hips into mine, sending little jolts of passion down my body as her clit rubbed against me. Breathing heavily, I reached my arm down between our bodies and touched her cunt, feeling her rock immediately against my inquisitive finger as I probed her tight wet hole. "You want me," she purred, squeezing her pussy around my finger, rekindling my fears again that this would be the last time I saw her.

"I do. I love you," I repeated again, withdrawing my finger, wondering if her reply would be what I feared it would. 

She didn't reply, just nodded and moved to kiss me again.

"You let me fall for you," I said, pushing her back and holding her at arms' length for a moment, realising that I wasn't going to get the reply I craved. 

"I know. I'm sorry," she said.

"You'll never leave him, will you?" I asked.

She sighed. "I love him, Jas."

"So why fuck around?" I said, my voice breaking slightly.

She paused, sitting up, backing off and shifting away from me on the couch. I sat up too, curling my legs underneath myself, consciously making my body language as defensive as possible.

"Ever been engaged?" she said, twisting the solitaire diamond ring around on her finger. "Ever been sure that someone's right for you long-term, and you do want to spend the rest of your life with them... but there's something missing?"

I shook my head, waiting for her to continue.

"That's what it's like with Greg," she said. "He's brilliant. Hot, rich, a good job, nice guy, my mum loves him... but I feel trapped. I'm only 26. How can I know now that I want to spend the next 40, 50, 60 years with him? That's why I'm 'fucking around', as you call it. I need to make sure that he is right for me."

I looked at her in disbelief. "You know you might drive him away, doing this?" I said.

She shrugged. "Then he's not right for me."

I pressed my fingers to my temple, a headache starting to kick in. "You're fucked up, Ceri. When I love someone, they're all I think about. That's how I feel about you."

"I know," she acknowledged. "I love him, but I need to be sure that I'm sure. And I never wanted to hurt you, or mislead you... Fuck. I know I started this, so I'm probably making no sense."

I laughed hollowly. "You can say that again."

She reached out to touch my arm, but I flinched away from her. "I think you'd better just go," I said, ignoring my pulsing clit and unsatisfied, wet pussy, and bending to retrieve my pyjama bottoms from the floor. 

Her eyes widened, and she reached out to me, but I moved backwards, pulling the crumpled trousers back up my legs and settling them on my hips. I folded my arms across my chest. "I mean it, Ceri, we're over."

"Jasmine... can't we...?"

I shook my head, swallowing hard, fighting to stay strong as I drove away the woman I loved.

"I'm not an experiment, Ceri. You can't use me to figure out how much you love Greg. I need someone who's all mine," I said, feeling my body start to physically shake. "Just go."

Silently, she pulled on her clothes, stood, and made her way to the door. "If you change your mind..."

"I won't." 

"OK," she said simply, turning to go. I sneaked a last look at her, imprinting her on my memory, her long legs, her toned body, those deep blue eyes and those full lips, which I knew could curve into the dirtiest smile on the planet.

The flat door closed. And I dropped my forehead to my knees, and broke my heart crying. 

*****

Calling in sick to work for the fourth day in a row, I eyed myself in the mirror as I convinced my head of department that the "migraine" I was experiencing would definitely keep me off at least another two days. He didn't seem to be buying it, but I didn't care. My contract said that I had two weeks before I needed to provide a doctors' note, and I was going to milk this for all it was worth.

Puffy, bloodshot eyes looked back at me as I considered my reflection. Savagely, I yanked my dark wavy hair into a messy ponytail and sank back down under my duvet. I couldn't think straight, Ceri had got into my head, and I didn't know what to do to get over her. My flatmate Katie's sage advice had been, "if a guy hurts you, then get over him by getting under someone else." 

Brilliant. She didn't know anything about who'd hurt me, and I intended to keep it that way. The door buzzer went, and I mindlessly buzzed the person in -- our postman always seemed to pick on our flat when he was looking for access.

The knock on the flat door surprised me though. Hesitantly, I dragged myself to the door, expecting to have to sign for another of Katie's EBay purchases.

Fuck. It was Greg.

He was unshaven and had dark circles under his eyes, but apart from that he looked his usual composed, stunning self in a dark suit and crisp white shirt, and my clit gave an involuntary twinge as my nose caught his manly smell.

"I got your address from your staff file," he said without preamble, inviting himself in.

"That's a breach of data protection," I said weakly, aware of my red-rimmed eyes and dishevelled appearance. I crossed my arms across my chest defensively.

"Fuck data protection," he snapped, dark eyes flashing dangerously as he settled himself on my couch. "Want to tell me what happened with you and Ceri?"

I swallowed hard. "Shouldn't you be asking her that?"

"I've heard her story already. I want to know if yours matches up." His voice was cold, his stare direct.

I looked my boss in the eye, remembering the first time I'd laid eyes on him, at that fateful party I'd also met Ceri. "It started at that Christmas party. She seduced me in the toilets... I'm sorry..." my voice trailed off.

Haltingly, and with my voice threatening to crack at any minute, I told him the story, of how that night had ended, and how we'd met up since. He sat in stony silence, a pulse ticking in his taut jaw as he stared wordlessly at me. 

"So she was telling the truth then," he finally said. 

I dropped my eyes to the floor and felt my eyes start to fill up, my heart thumping with pain caused by Ceri and on behalf of Greg -- he'd been shat upon too.

"Fucking bitch!" The venom in his voice was clear, as he banged his hand down on the couch armrest.

"Greg, I'm sorry. I..."

He cut me off mid-sentence. "Not you! Her!"

Shaking, he slammed his forehead into his palm. "I feel so fucking stupid. I don't think this is the first time she's cheated on me, either." He looked at me expectantly.

My face must have told him all he needed to know. Shoulders slumping, he paled. "Oh God," he sighed, resting his face in his hands again. "I'm such a dick."

"You're not!" I said, touching his shoulder and perching next to him on the couch. "It's not because of you, honest."

"No?" he said wearily, twisting his cufflink round and round and looking agitated. 

"Seriously, no! You're gorgeous, and a good guy," I said, my hand still on his arm. "She's messed up -- I told her that earlier. But I think... deep down, she does love you."

"Jasmine, I really doubt that," he said, his voice betraying his hurt. "Otherwise how could she keep cheating on me?"

"I don't know," I whispered. 

He looked me in the eye then, and time seemed to stand still as a flash of -- something -- sizzled between us. Slowly, not breaking eye contact, he leaned forward, hesitantly, as if waiting to gauge my reaction before making his next move. Seeming to make his mind up, he cupped my face gently in his hands and kissed me, his full lips exploring mine sensually as his rough stubble grazed my chin.

I melted into him, my mouth opening to allow his tongue to explore mine, inhaling the spicy smell of his aftershave and letting my fingers twist into his thick, dark hair. He pulled away momentarily, his liquid chocolate eyes widening as I stared back at him, my heart pounding.

"Jas, I shouldn't have just done that, I'm sorry..." 

I laid my hand on his knee, dropping my gaze away from him. "Greg, it's fine. It was just... just one of these things."

He reached out and brushed a knotted tendril of hair from my face. "But did you feel what I felt just now?"

I looked up again, and he placed a hand each side of my face, drawing me to him. Our teeth knocked together as he pulled me close for another hungry kiss, and we both giggled like school children before collapsing together on the couch, his strong hands roaming over my body as he flipped me on top of him. Straddling him, not breaking our kisses, my fingers quickly unknotted his tie and started to frantically unbutton his shirt as he shrugged off his suit jacket. 

In response, he quickly pulled my vest top up over my head, momentarily tangling us both in it as he threw the flimsy garment on the floor and cupped my breasts, his fingers finding my hardening nipples immediately. 

I shivered as I felt his fingers graze my flesh, every nerve in my body electrified by his touch and the little hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as he groaned into my mouth. I shifted slightly and felt his hard cock pushing through his trousers underneath me. 

"Can we go somewhere?" he gasped, visibly shuddering as I deliberately ground my arse up against his cock.

"My room?" I smiled wickedly, raising one eyebrow in a purposefully flirty motion. 

"Take me there," he said breathlessly, pushing me upwards and off him and struggling to his feet. Grabbing him by the hand, I led the way through to my bedroom, clearing a pile of clothes onto the floor with one arm swoop, and kicking off my pyjama bottoms in the process to join the messy pile. 

Greg ran his hands laviciously over my arse as I bent to pull the covers back off the bed, his fingers hooking under my thong teasingly. "This definitely needs to come off," he commented. 

I turned to face him, forcefully pulling open the last few buttons on his shirt and wrestling it down his shoulders. "Not before this does," I said, staring in awe at his muscled chest with its line of dark hair leading temptingly down into the top of his suit trousers. 

Unbuckling his belt and stepping out of his trousers, Greg settled himself on my bed, looking practically edible in a pair of white fitted boxers which showed off his hard cock perfectly. 

"Right, come here. I've got something for you," he murmured, not taking his eyes off me as he slid his hand under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down and letting his cock spring free, a shine of pre-cum already apparent on the head.

I had to have him. 

Wriggling out of my thong, I slid myself slowly up his body, revelling in the way he groaned as his cock brushed across my nipples and down my stomach before nestling against my pussy, already hot and wet for him. 

"I want you to fuck me," he growled, bucking his hips upwards in an attempt to get inside me. 

I held myself up on my arms, just out of reach, and pressed my lips lightly to his. "Sure?" I murmured, teasing him, letting my cunt slide along his cock without actually letting him inside.

"Jasmine, speaking as your boss... I need you to fuck me!"

Slowly, teasingly, I lowered my pussy onto his cock, gasping as I felt him stretch me open, squeezing my cunt around him and arching my back as I felt his hands grab my tits firmly, playing with my nipples and gently running his fingers down the sides of my breasts. 

Thrusting myself up and down his cock, I watched him half close his eyes as he lost himself inside me, giving over to pleasure as I lightly ran my nails down his chest then up, over my own body, to join his hands in caressing my tits. 

"You feel amazing," Greg gasped, grabbing me by the arse and pulling me hard down onto his cock, lifting his hips and slamming into me over and over, his fingers digging into my flesh almost painfully as he fought to get deeper inside of me. Leaning forward, I gasped as he caught my erect nipple between his teeth, flicking his hot tongue delicately across the surface, and feeling my breasts bounce against his face as he pounded his cock into me. 

Pushing me back upright, he flipped me over and rolled himself on top, pulling my legs up onto his shoulders. "This way I can really fuck you," he whispered, moving his fingers to my clit and rubbing softly as his cock thrust even deeper inside me. His saliva drying on my nipple made it almost painfully hard, and I dropped my chin onto my chest and took the other one in my own mouth, maintaining eye contact with him, and watching his dark eyes widen in approval.

"Fuck, Jas," he breathed as he increased the pace of his thrusts, sliding easily inside my pussy, now dripping wet, his balls slapping my arse with every stroke and turning me on even more. 

I bucked into him, squeezing my pussy to make myself as tight as possible, watching him close his eyes as breathing heavily, he grabbed my thighs and pistoned into me. I smiled lewdly at the sound and scent of my own hot, lubricated pussy, the force of his thrusts making my whole body jolt.

"I'm close," Greg groaned, slowing for a moment before resuming his thrusts, intent on coming inside me.

I couldn't answer, just gasped and moaned as I felt my own orgasm wash over me, feeling my pussy spasm wildly around his cock, my head slamming back into the pillow as he rode my trembling cunt.

He grabbed my hair, pulling me in for a kiss, before pulling me against him for a few huge thrusts. I felt his cock jerk in my pussy and the telltale heat flood me as he groaned loudly, grinding his hips into mine as he came.




Truth



"Oh fuck, fuck, Ceri..."

I froze.

Collapsing face down next to me on the pillow, Greg sighed heavily and reached out to stroke my hair. "That was amazing," he murmured, eyes closed, trying to pull me in for a cuddle.

"Greg, get the fuck out of my bed!" I cried.

"What?" he mumbled, eyes sleepy and confused.

"You just called me by your fucking fiancee's name!" I spat, pulling the duvet to my chin in a futile attempt to hide my body.

"I didn't," he protested weakly, sitting up in bed.

"You fucking did! Get out, for fuck's sake," I shouted, pulling my dressing gown on and storming blindly out of the bedroom to the bathroom, where I slammed the door and slumped down against it. 

The door bit into the soft flesh of my back as I brought my knees to my chin, biting down on my fist as I battled not to cry. The feeling of his cum starting to drip out of my pussy made me feel sick, disgusted with myself, and I turned on the shower, jumping in and turning the water to as hot as I could physically stand it in an attempt to wash away the memory.

"Jas, I'm going. Are you sure...?" the disembodied voice floated through the bathroom door.

"Just fuck off!" I bellowed, letting the tears flow freely under the hot water.

I heard the flat door close and for the second time in as many weeks, I felt like my heart was breaking.

*****

I know it's taken me forever to put this instalment of my story up, and I'm sorry for that.

It's been really hectic over the last few months, finding a new job, and getting myself back on track. Greg and Ceri are welcome to each other, I've realised that she was never interested in me as a person, and he's gone back to her after she cheated, which to me, shows how spineless he really is.

It did destroy me at the time, I won't lie, I really thought I was in love with her, and she really messed up my head.

I'm happier now though, I'm working in retail, which is a complete change from my last job, and my mates and family have been really supportive.

I've also got a date next week! I suppose if it hadn't been for Ceri, this date would never have happened! Her name is Anna, and she's five foot four, with almost-black glossy hair that she wears in a sharp bob, and works in the opticians next door to work. I'll let you know how it goes, if you're interested... 



Truth



My boyfriend and I went round his friend Jack's house for a few drinks one evening, just chatting and watching TV. We'd been drinking most of the evening and I was a little tipsy to say the least. Paul and Jack went to buy some more drinks from the shop down the road and said they'd pick up a pizza on the way back. I was too drunk to attempt the walk, so I waited on the sofa for them to return. Jack's brother came home a few minutes after they'd left, sat down with a beer, and turned to a porn channel. At first, I felt a little uncomfortable sitting with this gorgeous guy I barely knew, but I soon started to feel something else as I watched the people on screen.

The woman on screen was pinned to a bed while a group of men forced their cocks in her holes, repeatedly. I'd never seen this kind of porno before and I couldn't take my eyes off those beautiful hard cocks pounding into her. My breathing was getting heavier, my breasts aching, and nipples hard. My pussy was twitching with excitement and I could feel the moistened fabric of my panties rubbing on my swollen clit each time I moved. Suddenly, I couldn't wait to get home and fuck my boyfriend senseless. I wriggled at the thought of him fucking me like the woman on the screen, of having him pin me down and force his thick cock deep inside me, for him to do whatever he wanted to me. I adjusted my skirt and squirmed again at the rush of sensual excitement that was building inside me.

"Do you like that kind of sex?" I turned my eyes to the sexy, older brother who'd I'd almost forgotten was in the room. His eyes taking in every inch of me, as he brought his beer to his mouth. His full, luscious lips circling the opening of the bottle as the liquid poured down his throat. When the bottle left those soft lips, they curved up into a smile "I think you like a strong man who takes charge". I was rendered speechless from his dazzling smile; he took the opportunity to join me on the sofa. Feeling the heat of his body too close to be considered appropriate, I moved over. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" he smiled.

"A little" I admitted. 

He grinned wider and his eyes dropped to my cleavage. "Why do you think that is?" he asked, his gaze never leaving my breasts. Maybe he could hear my heart beating so hard and fast that it wasn't human. 

"I don't know you that well" I replied meekly, trying to control my breathing. 

"Well we can rectify that" his voice lowering to a husky whisper as he leant closer. I squirmed slightly, but I was up against the arm of the sofa, there was nowhere else to go; unless I stood up, but I wasn't sure my legs would work from their alcohol-induced state. 

I decided to try to play things down a bit, after all, I was probably just imagining the sexual undertone because of the affect the porno was having on me. I smiled brightly "Of course" I said with more confidence than I felt "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"I always preferred show to tell" he smiled, raising his fingers and gently stroking my lips. I pulled back stunned. I was definitely not imagining the sexual undertone of that touch. "But if you'd like to talk, I'd love to hear what you think of this" he nodded his head at the TV. My eyes flicked back to the screen just as the woman was having her ass raped by a huge dick. 

"Umm" I stuttered, "I don't know".

"Do you like being ass-fucked?" he asked seeming to enjoy my embarrassment as my face flushed crimson. 

I couldn't look him in the eye, as I answered, "I don't know... I mean... I haven't actually..." I risked a quick look at him, his body seemed closer than before, and I was sure he was imagining me naked. I looked away again, his hungry gaze causing my cheeks to redden further. His hand touched my chin and he turned my face back towards him. My breath caught and I felt his warm breath on me as he moved closer. His lips looked so inviting and I found myself moving towards him, closing the space between us, until his lips found mine. Soft and smooth, his lips pressed against mine, gently at first, then harder. His tongue flicked out, licking my bottom lip and I opened my mouth to accept him, my tongue moving to meet his. It started sweet, soon intensifying to something hungrier, something more urgent, more passionate. I heard myself moan as my body flooded with sensation; then my brain clicked into gear. I pulled away quickly "I'm sorry," I mumbled, attempting to get to my feet "I shouldn't have done that". He stood and steadied me; his body close, I panicked. "I need the bathroom" I blurted out and stumbled down the hall.

After I'd finally managed to complete my task, I stood at the sink, gripping on so I didn't fall down. I looked at myself in the mirror; my reflection showed that I looked compos mentis and to a certain extent I felt it, just a little uncoordinated. I knew I couldn't hide in the bathroom all night and decided I would just go back and sit in the armchair, making it clear that I wasn't interested, that I was already spoken for. I nodded at the mirror "You can do this" I told myself, and I turned and opened the door. 

As I stepped out of the bathroom, I jumped and yelped in surprise, he stood up against the wall just outside the door. He straightened and took a step towards me; I instinctively took a step back. He smiled that blazing smile of his and took another step. I retreated further down the hall, unaware of his intentionally herding me.

"Look, I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong impression" I tried to explain "but I have a boyfriend." I stumbled back into something and glanced to find my back up against a door. When I turned back, he was close enough to whisper in my ear 

"I don't think your boyfriend is giving you what you need". His warm breath on my ear and neck, I began to feel that electricity flow through my body to gather in that special place. My breath quickened as he continued, "I saw how you reacted; you liked what those men were doing to her". No wonder he had come on to me, I had unwittingly given out signals that I was so obviously aroused, and he had noticed. He pulled back enough to look me in the eye, but he remained close enough that I could still feel his breath on me, the warm heat from his body. "Are you going to try to tell me you didn't?" he asked trailing a finger down my cheek, along my jaw, and down my neck. My nipples hardened and I held my breath as his finger followed the valley between my breasts. His hand slid over my breast, down my ribs and around my waist. 

"Please don't," I gasped. For a brief moment, I thought he'd listened; then I felt the door at my back open and he pushed me inside.

The door closed and it was pitch black; I couldn't see anything. I heard a noise that sounded like the door locking and I began to panic. "What are you doing?" I asked trying to keep my voice from cracking "Let me out!" I demanded. All I heard was a dark, throaty laugh from behind me. I spun around, but still couldn't see anything. "This isn't funny! Open the door now!" He responded with another laugh.

"Feisty aren't you? I like that. It makes it all the sweeter when you surrender to me."

"You're crazy!" I shouted "Surrender? I'm not surrendering anything to you. Now let me out of here!" I grappled for the door and stumbled over something. He laughed again, his hand encircling my wrist as he dragged me across the room. My eyes were starting to adjust to the lack of light, but the alcohol wasn't helping me to understand my surroundings until I saw a large bed. 

I tried to pull away, but he gripped me tighter, his arm went around my waist and held me, my back pressed tight against him. I tried desperately to pry his arm off, but he readjusted his position to a bear hug, my arms pinned by my sides. I could feel his heavy breathing against my hair "I like it when you struggle".

"Please don't do this. Please just let me go. I won't say anything. I won't tell. Just let me go. Please"

"And I like it when you beg" he teased "But if I let you go now, I get nothing, do I? That doesn't seem fair, especially with the way you kissed me. Maybe we can trade." He suggested.

"What do you want?" I asked anxiously. Maybe if I could just keep him talking I could figure a way out of this mess.

"I want to play a little game; it's a little like truth or dare. I'll ask the questions and you either tell me the truth or let me claim a part of you to play with. If you answer all the questions truthfully, I'll unlock the door. You seem to be an honest, trustworthy girl; it shouldn't be too difficult for you to win, should it?" 

I thought about what he was saying and it did seem simple enough, too simple maybe. "What's the catch?" I asked. 

"No catch. I'll know if you're lying, so just tell the truth." I nodded in agreement.

"Excellent. First question: Earlier when you said you'd never been fucked up the ass, did you mean that?" he sounded curious and I was wondering where he was going with this conversation. I nodded. "You have a virgin ass?"

"Yes. So, what?" I asked starting to feel embarrassed; it wasn't that big a deal surely.

"And you were turned on watching that porno, weren't you?" I nodded again. "You liked that those men were rough, didn't you?" I hesitated before nodding. "Does your boyfriend know this side of you? Does he understand your hidden sexual cravings?"

"We've never really talked about it," I admitted.

"Can he satisfy the animal in you that needs dominating? Does he give it to you rough? Does he take you, the way I know you like it? I want to know if he fulfils your desire to be overpowered by a strong man who knows what he wants and takes it. Tell me the truth. Does he?" Every whispered question added to my arousal, which I tried desperately to hide 

"No" I answered honestly, hoping it was enough to secure my release. No matter how much my pussy was aching to have his cock buried deep inside, I was not going to let it happen, I was going to be faithful. 

"Good girl" he commended "Now tell me, do you secretly fantasize about being dominated?" I nodded "Do you get wet thinking about being forced to take cock?" I nodded again "Are you turned on right now?" I paused, not sure how to answer. I knew the answer, but I wasn't sure I wanted to give it. "Are you turned on right now?" he repeated. I nodded and was sure I could feel him smile. "Is your pussy wet, thinking how good my cock would feel inside you?" I paused again. "The truth" he reminded me. I nodded, ashamed of my feelings. "Do you want me inside you?"

"Please just let me go," I begged. His grip tightened and he pushed his body up against me. I could feel his rigid member through the fabric of my skirt and panties, pressing against the crease of my ass, I gasped; it was huge and rock hard. He began to grind himself into me. "Do you want me inside you?" Oh, God I really did want him, but I knew I couldn't answer him truthfully this time. 

"No" I said as steadily as I could. 

"Your first lie" he mocked disapprovingly. His hand slid down my top and inside my bra to cup my breast. I wriggled frantically, but he was so strong. He rubbed his thumb over my erect nipple, and then pinched it hard. I yelped as the pain shot through my body, turning to pleasure as the sensation reached between my legs. He began kneading my breast, squeezing and pulling at me. 

"Stop" I breathed.

"Just claiming my prize" he smiled and pinched my nipple again. I gasped. "Do you like that?" he taunted. 

I almost said no, but was scared he would know I was lying and claim another part of my body, so I swallowed my pride and answered truthfully, "Yes".

"Good girl. I was sure you were going to lie again," he continued caressing my breast and rubbing my nipple hard. "Tell me, are you honourable?" he asked. The question threw me a little; it didn't seem to fit with his line of questioning so far. 

Nevertheless, the answer was easy "Yes. I like to think so" His hand slipped out from clutching at my breast and I stifled a sigh. I wasn't sure if it was a sigh of relief or disappointment. 

"Take off your top" he ordered.

"What? No!" I exclaimed, wondering how he could possibly think I was going to comply.

"I thought you said you were honourable?"

"I am!" I argued defiantly.

"Then take off your top. You lied and now I can claim any part of you that I choose. That was the agreement; so take off your top!" I thought about what he'd said for a moment. "Now!" he ordered and there was something dangerous in his tone of voice that demanded I obey him. I nodded in agreement and he loosened his grip on me. I briefly considered making a run for the door, but wasn't sure I'd make it; he was clearly in a position to easily over-power me. I reached for my top and pulled it over my head. I dropped it to the floor next to the bed. "Lose the bra," he said unclasping it and I slid the straps down my arms and let it fall. The cool air hardened my nipples further and goosebumps appeared on my arms and shoulders; that's what I told myself; it had nothing to do with his fingers sliding over my skin. "Turn around" he whispered and I slowly turned to face him. His eyes focused on my breasts and his hands grasped them gently, his thumbs rubbing over my nipples, causing pleasure to shoot along my nerve endings. He raised his eyes to mine as he continued stroking me. I tried desperately not to show any emotion on my face, but my breathing wouldn't calm and my heart wouldn't stop pounding in my chest. He smiled knowingly. Keeping eye contact with me, he leaned down and took one of my nipples between his lips. It took all my effort not to moan aloud as his tongue flicked out and licked at it before sucking it into his mouth, his tongue circling and flicking continuously as his hand moved to my free nipple and pinched it hard. This time the moan escaped before I had the chance to stifle it. My pussy flooded with my warm juice, soaking my panties so much it felt like I'd peed myself. His grip tightened on my breasts and he squeezed them together as if trying to meld them into one. His tongue darted between nipples, sucking, licking, biting gently. The sensations were driving me crazy with lust. I found myself closing my eyes, my head tilting back as my breathing quickened and small moans of pleasure escaped. I tried frantically not to run my fingers through his hair and hold his head against me so he wouldn't stop. I couldn't help but imagine what that tongue would feel like flicking over another sensitive part of my body. I wanted him; there was no denying it. He was strong, sexy, and unbelievably gorgeous and the alpha male in him radiated out of every pore of his being. I wanted him. I wanted him bad.

Suddenly he stopped and I almost cried out with need. I opened my eyes to find him standing in front of me, his mouth inches away from mine. I looked at those beautiful full lips and his tongue moved out to lick them. I found myself moving in, mesmerized. Just as my lips were about to touch his, he spoke. "You want to kiss me." 

It wasn't a question, but I found myself answering anyway "Yes". 

He smiled devilishly and leaned in again, his lips just grazing mine "What would your boyfriend say?" Just like that, my sense came flooding in. I stepped back to find the bed at my calves. He smiled and reached out for my breast, cupping it gently and stroking his thumb over my nipple again. 

"We have to stop," I pleaded.

"Why?" he asked, raising his other hand to cup my free breast. I tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip painfully.

"Please" I begged, tears threatening to spill. "You've had your fun, now just let me go" I tried to pull away again and almost succeeded. His arm hooked around my waist and he threw me down on the bed, laying his body down on top of mine, effectively pinning me beneath him. I tried pushing him off, but he just laughed and grabbed my wrists, holding them above my head. Grasping them in one hand, his other hand moved down to my skirt and pulled it up to my waist. "No!" I screamed and struggled, frantically trying to escape. I managed to get a hand free, but he was on me before I had a chance to claw his eyes out. He held me tight, almost cutting off the circulation and the next thing I knew, he was binding my wrists together and tying them to the bed. I pulled and wriggled, but whatever he'd used was holding and I was just hurting myself with each twist. He stood watching my struggle with an amused expression on his face. "Don't do this," I begged "Please".

His smile widened "I told you I like it when you beg". He lifted his t-shirt over his head, revealing a tanned, sculpted chest. My god, he really was gorgeous. His hands moved down to his jeans and as the zip lowered, I held my breath, unable to take my eyes off him. His jeans came down. He had well built legs, muscled, but not overly so, perfect in fact. His hands moved to his boxers, his thumbs sliding in the waistband. He stopped and I looked up to see him watching me. I turned away, embarrassed at being caught in what was so obviously an ogle. He chuckled. "Do you want me to take these off?" he asked his voice husky.

"Of course not" I snapped "I want you to untie me and let me go!"

"Three more lies" he sneered "and I thought you were such a good girl"

"I'm not lying!" I defended.

"And another, my, my. That makes four parts of you that you've given me, how delightful," he taunted and his boxers came down to reveal his huge dick. It was both long and thick, and extremely hard. 

His mushroom head was huge and my pussy involuntarily twitched with sheer wanton lust. "Oh god" I mumbled.

"Do you like my cock?" he asked his eyes hungrily gazing over my body. "You can lie if you want to" he dared, "In fact, I'd like you to lie". I kept silent, knowing any answer was bound to excite him further. He stood closer, towering over me. "Do you like my cock?" he repeated. I turned my head the other way, ignoring him. He sat on the bed beside me and leaned down so his lips grazed my ear when he spoke "Are you forfeiting?" he whispered softly as his hand stroked over my breasts.

"No I'm not forfeiting! I'm not playing your damn game! Let me go! Now!" I demanded. He simply laughed. I was furious. "Paul's going to be here any minute. He'll stop you." His laugh abruptly halted and I smiled smugly, now I had him.

"Oh sweetie" he purred, stroking my hair "Paul isn't coming back any time soon. He and Jack have gone clubbing for the night." I started to shake my head and was about to argue, when he cut in "He asked me to make sure you enjoyed yourself" his voice full of sexual innuendo.

"You're lying" I accused venomously.

"Hate to break it to you darling, but he and Jack like to play this game all the time."

"What are you talking about? You mean they feed you their girlfriends, so you can rape them?" I asked acidly. His face darkened and I was instantly sorry I'd said anything at all. No matter how pretty the packaging, he was dangerous. He must have seen the fear on my face, but he didn't smile as I thought he would. Instead, he continued to stroke my hair, almost trying to soothe me. I was confused. "Paul and Jack find it easier to break up with their girlfriends if they have something to accuse them of, that way it's the girls fault, not theirs. They're cowards. For your information, I don't rape them, I don't even sleep with them, it's just a make out session; but it's enough for them to feel guilty. Well, most of them" he smiled.

"But I don't understand why. Why don't they just tell them it's over? I don't get it."

"Like I said, they're cowards," he answered.

"Wait a minute. Does that mean this is Paul's way of breaking up with me? By asking you to seduce me?" I asked incredulously. That toad!

"Well..." he hesitated. It was the first time I'd even sensed doubt from him. "It was only meant to be a kiss" he admitted "but... well... you..."




Truth



"I what?!"

"You got turned on by that porno and I realised you were into the same kind of thing I was. I wanted to know how far you'd go. Then I kinda got carried away I guess."

"...kinda got carried away?" I repeated sardonically. "You've got me tied to a bed, half naked!" In light of his recent confession, I expected him to apologise and untie me. He didn't. 

His eyes swept over my body in that hungry way they had. "I do, don't I?" he smiled gratifyingly. My breath quickened as I caught sight of his hard cock jump in excitement, while he looked intently at my mostly naked form. "I just have a few more questions, then if you still want me to, I'll untie you. Agreed?" He seemed genuine enough, so I nodded in agreement. "Do you believe me; about Paul and Jack?" I thought back over the last few weeks that made up our entire relationship and even though I didn't like it, I admitted I really did believe they were capable of that. I nodded that I believed him and he let out a rush of breath that he'd been holding. "If you weren't Paul's girlfriend, would something more have happened between us tonight?" I thought about how he'd made me feel, about how close I'd come to surrendering myself to him, even though I believed I was still with Paul. I looked at him, studying his face, his body. Wow, he really was one hot alpha male. I nodded again and his beautiful smile lit up his face. "Last question: Will you forgive me?" I was gob-smacked, stunned, after everything that had passed between us in such a short period, I'd felt so many contradictorily feelings: pain, pleasure, frustration, horror, fear, lust, but right now I couldn't help but notice the way in which he was still stroking my hair soothingly. 

Could I forgive him? "Yes" I'd meant to answer in my head. However, what shocked me more was the absolute resolution in my voice. I could forgive him. He smiled and that smile lit up his face and that was when I knew I wanted to forgive him. He leaned down to untie my wrists. "Wait!" I cried, halting him in the process "You don't have to, if you don't want to". I could hardly believe what I was saying; it seemed I was finally agreeing to what my pussy had been telling me all along.



Truth



"We're going to play tonight, we're going to pretend, okay?" he whispered, though in truth it wasn't really a question.

She was blindfolded, her favorite game, and he'd taken the gossamer red scarf she wore in her hair and wrapped it loosely across her mouth as a makeshift gag. Even her arms were bound, tied at the wrist to the headboard with her studded leather belt. Her taut body squirmed back and forth on the virgin-white sheets, her back arched and toes curled, feverishly anticipating his touch.

He teased her by walking back and forth around the bed, the creaking of the polished oak floorboards giving hint to his presence. Occasionally he'd reach out and press down on the mattress just enough to give her the impression he was next to her. She'd buck her hips at the movement, writhing as he pulled back and circled around to the other side. The tension had made her nipples hard as cherry stones, and he badly wanted to roll them between his thumb and finger to see how loud he could make her moan.

The room was dark with only the light of the moon's slivered rind leaking in through the parted blinds to illuminate her form. It made her glow like something perfect and unearthly, an angel without wings.

"Are you ready for me," he whispered after what must have seemed an eternity. She'd worked herself to a frenzy in anticipation, sweat beaded into droplets on her brow. He was as excited as she was and his cock stood out stiff in front of him, hammer hard, flesh made steel.

He cupped the side of her face with one deft artist's hand and traced a circle around her lips with his thumb. She turned towards his touch, nuzzling his palm like a leashed pet would her master. The teasing made her tremble and it was clear from the way that she strained against her bonds that his hands on her face wasn't enough; she wanted them on her breasts, her hips, her slick cunt.

As always he obliged her wishes, sliding his fingers down past the slope of her chin to her throat. He could feel her pulse thumping beneath her skin as he slipped past the thick artery in her neck down to her breasts. They were perfect, just like everything about her. She shuddered as he tweaked first her left nipple, then the right. They seemed to get even harder as he squeezed firmly enough to make her squirm but not enough to hurt. After all these years he knew exactly how to toy with her, and the damp, earthy smell of sex wafting up from between her legs confirmed he was pushing all the right buttons.

"I never get tired of you, of us, of this," he whispered. He had slid his hand down from her breasts to the flat plane of her stomach. Lingering at her navel he danced his fingertips in slow circles around the sensitive flesh of her belly button. She wanted him to move lower, to touch her where she was wet and slick, but he made himself wait, building the anticipation until she couldn't take it anymore.

His fingertips finally brushed past the artfully shorn strip of hair above her sex she gasped and thrust her hips up at him, trying to force his fingers lower. When he finally made contact with the erect bud of her clit she shuddered as if in climax, her entire body convulsing and shaking.

"You never get tired of this either," he whispered, a smile creasing his handsome face. He leaned downward until his mouth were bare inches from his skin and exhaled, his breath making a promise to her slick cleft. She moaned into the gag and thrust upwards to seek out his lips. Unable to stop himself any longer he relented and gave a long, deliberate lick across her slit, tasting her anticipation. It was almost too much for his senses to take, and his stiff cock throbbed, a pearl of pre-cum beaded at the tip.

Climbing between her legs he grasped her ankles and raised them up, spreading her open before him. He nudged his cock forward and ground it up and down her slippery mound using just his hips, teasing her with the threat of penetration. Every time his cockhead snagged against her pink slit he stopped and eased backwards, denying them both what they wanted most. 

Her hands were balled into tiny fists as she strained against the belt, trying to push him inside her. He was too quick, and he shifted backwards, taunting her, denying her the penetration she craved. She gnashed her teeth against the makeshift gag and grunted wordlessly against the diaphanous red material.

Just as she seemed to give up he rewarded her, spearing forward into her tight pussy until his balls slapped against her ass cheeks. She arched her back and thrashed about, lunging against him, grinding onto his body to take him as deep as possible.

The time for teasing was over; he withdrew with a shift of his hips and thrust inward again, over and over. Despite being unable to see him or speak a word she instinctively fell into a rhythm, a matched cog grind of bodies that had meshed together hundreds of time before. The bed creaked and groaned beneath them as it always did, the protests of the springs as much a part of the sounds of their lovemaking as pants and gasps and cries of passion.

As always she came first, wrapping her long legs around his body and locking him inside her, and as always that pushed him to the limit. He let out a guttural roar and with a final powerful thrust exploded deep into her womb. Somewhere far in the back of his head he wondered if this would be the time she'd catch pregnant, and as his orgasm obliterated his consciousness he pictured her flat stomach grown round with his child, heavy and swollen.

Some minutes later he rose, his knees week and mind reeling. His head swam, floating on a sea of endorphins that drowned his senses in bliss. She too was consumed by the afterglow of her orgasm, her chest rising and falling as she lay still on the bed, drained and spent.

It was a perfect image and a perfect moment and it made his heart ache to know how lucky he was. Most men went their entire lives without knowing the joy she made him feel, and he was fortunate enough to feel like this every day. 

Shaking his head and smiling he strode lightly across the rug to the adjoining bathroom. He turned on the tap he waited for the water to grow warm before cupping his hands beneath the flow and bringing it to his face, washing off his perspiration and the scent of her sex as his breathing returned to normal and the pleasant afterglow of their coupling melted away.

This was always the hardest part, when he had to look into the mirror afterwards. The mirror told the truth, cold and hard, and he always dreaded facing it. He waited as long as he could, ponderous minutes that ticked on long enough that the water on his face and hands dried in the cool night air. So long his feet began to ache and his back stiffen. So long time seemed to stop.

When he finally opened his eyes he didn't recognize the man looking back at him in the polished glass. The face he saw was pock-marked and ugly. He brought his hand up to run it through his thick hair that wasn't there and the reflection in the mirror made the same gesture, running his hands across his scabbed, bare scalp as if to mock him. 

The room behind him in the mirror was strewn with litter, and something with beady red eyes chittered at him from beneath the bed. That wasn't the worst of it, though. The worst was that she was no longer perfect, no longer his wingless angel. She was desiccated and crumbling, a husk resting on moldering sheets. Her hands were still bound above her head with rope long since gone to rot, and the duct-tape and rags that gagged her had decomposed along with her lower jaw.

When he turned away from the mirror to look back into the bedroom it was all still there, the death and decay and putrescence and filth. A beetle scurried across what was once her cheek and disappeared into the ruin of her eye socket. 

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists so hard his nails tore into the flesh on his palms, so hard blood oozed out from between his fingers. After what seemed forever he opened his eyes and looked down her motionless form and forced his mind to see things how he wished they would be and not how they were.

"We're going to play tonight, we're going to pretend, okay?" he whispered, though in truth it wasn't really a question.



Truth



(Please take the time to comment even if you don't vote; I'm trying to improve. Thank you!)

*

She loved Halloween and always had. Many people said inordinately so, and perhaps that was true. Picking a costume, doing extreme make-up, flirting, teasing, all the things that constituted Halloween fun to so many were more than that. For her it was as though once a year she could be herself, the person she actually was hidden deep inside. For a little while, the beast could slip its leash. It was like an awakening. There was a magic to it. It was the only day of the year she seemed able to meet people she wanted to talk to, or even had anything in common with. Even when she was a child, she would stay out until midnight playing with other hobgoblins, pixies, fairies, vampires, and lycan until finally her mother would call her inside. Candy had always been secondary; the friendships, though only for the night, had always been the draw for her. It bothered her somewhat she could never find her playmates after Halloween. Even as an adult, no matter how good a time anyone seemed to have had, she was left without a single email, IM, or phone number.

Sighing to herself, she wiped off the eyeliner and lipstick that were her only makeup this year. The heat of the washcloth felt good against her cold nose and cheeks which she was quite sure were an unbecoming pink. Perhaps that was why he had walked off without taking the card she had offered with her contact information. The last two years he'd refused to share any of his contact information with her. She should have been able to let it slide; it was clear he wasn't interested.

But something about him drew her. Probably the fact he was her ideal of male perfection. Two metres tall, he towered over her. Long, straight black hair fell to his waist, pale skin gleamed like marble in the shadows of the night, green eyes glowed eerily like a cats, and muscle clearly rippled with his every move. He was ropey and slightly lanky rather than wide, but he moved with clear elegance of the sort she envied in anyone. And she would swear by the look in his eyes tonight he'd been interested, if only for a moment.

So she had slid the card from the small concealed pocket in the gown she wore, offering it to him wordlessly. She really wasn't sure which was worse; the cursory glance he'd given it, his refusal to even touch it, or his haste in leaving after she'd proffered the pathetic offering. She couldn't help it. She wasn't bold, not when she was attracted to men. As a matter of course, she was usually aloof with most people, earning her a reputation as an ice queen. Her friends knew the truth, but nothing they did broke through her carefully masked shyness when meeting strangers. Only time and familiarity did that, and the fact she could count all her friends on one hand with fingers left proved just how many people had the patience to deal with that.

After his admittedly polite rejection, the sheen had worn off the evening somewhat. She had pleaded tiredness to her friends, sighting the busy day at work as her cause. On the way home she met a male pixie out travelling to another party. It was near her apartment, so they walked and talked together for a few blocks before their ways parted. Somewhat cheered she had entered the apartment, and ten minutes later she was standing here, face buried in a washcloth, wishing she wasn't such an anti-social loser. Pulling the washcloth off her face, she glanced at her watch lying on the sink. Just past eleven o'clock. This was the earliest she had been home on Halloween since she was old enough to walk.

Sighing, she hung the washcloth on the rack, turned off the light, and crossed threshold into her room. Without bothering to turn on a light, she stripped out of her costume, laying the crushed velvet gown over the back of her desk chair and letting her garter, hose, and bra fall to the carpet next to her discarded shoes. Walking to her bed, she slipped into the tank and pyjama bottoms she'd folded and laid on her pillow in the morning, then slid under the covers to sleep.

He was waiting as soon as she closed her eyes. No preliminaries, no foreplay, not even a greeting. The tank top and pyjama bottoms she slept in were gone, though where she didn't know. That was all she had time to think before his teeth sank into the vein atop her left breast and three of his fingers sank into her barely moistening pussy. She gasped, hips shooting up, back arched, heels and hands digging into the mattress, head pressing into the pillows, neck exposed. He pistoned his hand without waiting for her to catch up, uncaring she was dry when he started.

Her body slammed back down onto the bed. The pain from his fingers sent sparks dancing before her eyes, stole her breath, and awakened the something deep inside her she'd only just put back on its leash. As she fought whatever it was rising inside her, he ripped his teeth from her, snarling. One word from him was her only warning: "Surrender."

That snarled mandate made her determined to fight, though it wasn't him she fought. Her hips still rose to the pounding beat of his hand, small gasps escaping her throat, milking his fingers for all she was worth. No, the one she fought was herself. She fought the monster waking, uncoiling inside her. If she surrendered to it, allowed it to merge with her as it wanted to do, she knew she would become a creature of chaos, wrecking havoc wherever she went.

She was wet now; she felt the moisture trickle down her crack to soak the sheet beneath her when he withdrew his hand. She whimpered and struggled to crack her eyelids. As they cracked open, she had the momentary impression of bared teeth and angry green eyes, then she was in her bed, in the dark, alone.

Shivering slightly, she noticed her window was open. Frowning, she sat up slowly, shoving her hair out of her face. Hand in her hair, she paused, eyes widening slightly. She never slept with her hair aloose; it was so curly, it would nearly develop dreadlocks overnight. Sighing, she shook back the thick mane as best she could, curls dancing halfway down her back, tickling skin. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she was up and halfway to the window before she realized she was as naked as her dream.

Eyes wide, she swung around, searching the floor for her pyjamas. They were nowhere to be seen. Heading back towards the bed, she dropped to the floor, probing the shadows under the bed, sweeping her hand beneath it in a frantic search. The chill of the floor and the caress of a breeze across her back recalled her to what she had been about.

Standing, she swept a small blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around herself, tying two corners behind her neck like a halter top. Walking to the window, she reached up to close it, wondering again why it was open. The cool breeze caressed her face, refreshing, yet cold enough to cause shivers. She closed her eyes briefly to enjoy the sensation.

That fast, he was back, behind her this time. Again there was no finesse, no gentleness. With an arm clamped about her waist, he placed his other hand at the back of her head and forced her to bend forward. She braced her hands on the window sill in a flash of defiance, but it seemed that had been his intention all along. She felt his hands at her neck, untying the knot of the blanket. Slowly, he pulled it off and to the side. The slide of the fabric against her skin was another type of caress. Still sensitive from his earlier presence, she whimpered with need.

"I was going to punish you. I was going to leave you writhing all night. Waiting for another year. Then I remembered I love you because you do fight. Because defiance is simply your nature. So I came back. To pleasure you, to pleasure me, and to let you fight, in vain though it may be. You are already mine, whether you will it or no."

The cool air had already tightened her nipples to the point of pain. He fondled her breasts gently, a direct contrast to his mood that night, and the only warning she had. The clamps were grooved with a myriad of small teeth, biting cruelly, once again sending the pain sparks dancing before her eyes. She came immediately, crying out slightly, rocking her hips involuntarily, moisture trickling down her thighs. His laughter echoed softly in her ear, low, sexy, and pleased.

"I told you. Mine. All mine." His voice enticed as he pinched her nipples cruelly, pulling on the ends peeking from the front of the clamps. The aftershocks rocked her strongly. Biting her lip, she tried to contain her whimpers, ashamed she could be so weak as to allow his manipulation. A low growl sounded in her left ear. "Surrender." Weakly she shook her head. Already the beast inside her was unfurling, stretching, seeking to merge with her. Fighting him was one thing, fighting the monster inside her another. To fight him, her monster, and her desires all at once was too much. She was wasting strength, stretching herself too thin. But to surrender on one front was now surrender on all fronts. As he had said, it was her nature to fight, to defy, and so she would, until he truly won his victory.

The growl sounded again, louder this time. Remembering he had disappeared when her eyes opened and her mind aware of the waking world, she struggled against the inclinations of her partially sated body, cracking her lids open. This time, something had changed. It took her a minute to realize that she still felt those wonderfully calloused hands on her skin, one gripping her hip hard enough to leave bruises, the other sweeping her hair over her shoulder to expose the nape of her neck. Another moment brought the realization that, somehow, sometime, she had been blindfolded.

"Not tonight, sweetheart. No escape, no quarter, no mercy. I have been the suitor, the lover, the mentor, and still you have not surrendered. No more illusions. Tonight you are still the warrior queen you mask form the world, but I am the conqueror. Tonight you will surrender fully, you will awaken, and you will acknowledge me as master of your body, heart, and mind." His teeth sank into her nape with calculated precision, keeping her still in the way a predator does its mate. He pressed into her, too fast for her comfort, but not quite fast enough to rip anything. He reached her hymen and paused. For a moment she felt something from him: a questioning that might have been confusion or wonder. In the next instant it was gone and he was tearing into her, a painful burning in his wake. She stared blindly into darkness, tears in her eyes. This was a different type of pain than any before, one she was glad she could never experience again.

He groaned in satisfaction at being fully sheathed in her wet heat, the vibration echoing down her spine. Something inside her sparked, caught fire. Rage filled her veins. She liked, even craved certain types of pain to varying degrees of intensity. She did not, however, like this, even in the remotest sense. The fire of her rage roared through her body, in her head, fused the monster to her soul, and united them inextricably. An angry growl sounded in her throat. She felt him still behind her, even as he remained buried to the hilt.

"How dare you? How fucking DARE you? Get OFF me, you bastard!" She pushed up using the window sill as leverage. Merging with her demon had given her strength enough to surprise him. He staggered back, sliding out of her in the process, losing his grip from the shock. Reaching up, she ripped off the blindfold, revealing eyes turned molten gold with red pupils shooting sparks. "I hurt, and not in a good way, and you stand there grunting and groaning like a pig!!" Her voice had risen to a shriek loud enough to be heard through the apartment walls. He stared down at her from a metre away, green eyes burning, face unreadable. His long, straight black hair fell over his shoulders and down his back to his waist like a curtain. A portion of her mind registered how good it had felt against her skin. But the rage still had ahold of her; she couldn't simply let it go.

He idly wondered if she had any idea how delicious she looked. How fuckable. How perfect. Her skin gleamed a creamy caramel in the moonlight, hair tousled, wild, and witchy, the rich red-brown of bitter chocolate. Her breasts swayed delicately with each breath, swollen from his fondling and the clamps still attached, the gold chain between them the only clothing on her body. His eyes strayed down to her neatly shaved and shaped pussy and saw the blood staining her thighs. He drew in a deep breath, fighting the urge to leap on her and devour her in one swallow.

As she opened her mouth to yell again, he moved with a superhuman speed she'd somehow known he possessed. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, tongue plunging into her mouth only to gently stroke against hers. Her body moulded to his, but her mind continued raging. She gripped his tongue between her teeth, applying enough pressure that he stopped moving, waiting to see if she would bite off his tongue, effectively killing him by bleed-out. They waited there, held on the brink of interminable suspense. A bit more pressure and the taste of his blood swirled in both their mouths, rich, metallic, tangy.

He groaned into her mouth. She felt him jerk against her stomach, felt something hot splatter and cling to the undersides of her breasts. He had cum, despite the danger, the anger, the pain...or perhaps because of it. She smiled against his lips, sliding her teeth back off his tongue, tilting her head back as she went. She slid her right leg up over his, going onto tiptoe to wrap it around his waist. Her hands rose from her sides to grip his upper arms, caressing the muscles there lightly. She arched her back, offering her throbbing breasts, exposing her neck.

He was still hard against her stomach. Even as he bent head to suckle the side of her neck, he rubbed himself against her soft skin, savouring the slide the light sheen of sweat provided. She was wide open and her damp heat spread and caressed his balls and the underside of his rod, coating them in her honey, spreading her scent and the blood, and driving him into a frenzy. A hard jerk on the chain between her breasts had her crying out in a combination of pleasure and pain. One more hard jerk and she gasped breathlessly. He felt moisture flood his ball as she ground herself against him as she came. The pressure she exerted was almost painful, but he was long past caring. Bending his head further, he took her left nipple between his teeth, savaging it as she cried out. He smiled to himself. Her hands pushed at his head as though trying to push him away, while her hips thrust, desperately trying to force him into her.

Pulling back, he smiled cruelly. "You cannot have it both ways, my heart. You either want me, want my pain, or you do not. It is as simple as that." He wasn't sure she even understood. Her eyes were glazed with lust, her body moving involuntarily, seeking to tempt him to her. His smile deepened, sank into self-satisfaction and gratification. "You have surrendered. You are mine. Your pleasure and pain are mine to control."

He bent his head to ravage her other breast, yet just as he sank his fangs into the tender flesh of her nipple, he felt a pain, like a small, intense flame at the nape of his neck. He tried to jerk back and away, but found he couldn't. Carefully, he pulled his fangs from the delicate flesh he had them in, licking the drops of blood away apologetically. A groan vibrated through him from the same source as the burning in his neck. It moved through him, raising the lust that had just begun to fall, turning the pain into torturous pleasure.

Slowly, feeling for her reaction, he teased the nipple still in his mouth. Barely scraping with his teeth, he instead used his tongue to flog the tip. He shaped it, moulded it, took its measure with his lips and tongue. The burning pain in his neck died down as she slid her new fangs out of his spinal column. For the moment she still maintained a clamp on his nape, staking her mastery of him in the same way he had earlier done to her. There was no escape, and while a part of him seethed, another part of him was aroused to even greater heights by her continued determination to fight and triumph.

Using the steely biceps under hands as leverage, she brought her other leg up and around his waist, locking her ankles low, under his buttocks, raising herself slightly. The position did nothing to release the pressure on his nape, but everything to align their bodies so he could penetrate her. Her soft, dripping entrance teased the engorged head of his sword. He wanted nothing more than to thrust home. Yet if he took her like this, she would be in control of him, a circumstance he refused to allow.

Growling low in challenge, he once again sank his teeth into the soft skin of her breast, into the sensitive aureole around the erect nipple. His thought was to return her earlier threat. Her reaction was unexpected. Heat bathed his penis, lowly coating his length in her musky juices. She released her hold on his nape as she threw her head back in the ecstasy of release, hair flying, lashing his face as she rose, sinking down onto him as she did so. He throbbed once, twice, registering her velvet heat before his control disappeared. Growling ferociously, he lunged deeper even as he shot into her depths. She laughed wildly and milked him, pulling him deeper, enjoying the feel of heat bathing her insides.

They drifted slowly back to awareness. At some point they had collapsed onto the floor in a tangled heap. Through the still-open window, a cold wind blew, chilling their overheated skin. They were still joined together as the chime of the town hall's clock echoed lightly in the air. With effort she cracked open her eyes, tilting her head to look at her alarm clock. Midnight. The witching hour. Always before the end of her transformation to reality. Time to slip back into her social mask, her acceptable persona. Time to leash the beast as her true friends faded away for another year, leaving only mortals in their place. An odd thought that, and one that momentarily caught her attention. Then he opened his eyes and she was sinking into the mysteries hidden there. The beast in her stretched, yearning towards him as it would a mate.

"You still don't understand. This is the rebirth. An end to existence on this plane and a beginning to existence on the proper one." His voice was still slightly husky, as though lust lurked just below the surface. "You are my mate. I found you. I claimed you. You claimed me. And now you will stay with me." She could do nothing but shake her head. Surely this is where she would wake up. It had all become too strange too quickly.

He raised an eyebrow, patently superior. "When have you ever fit in this world? When have you easily made friends? When has anything people say or do made real sense to you? Why do you see things others don't, not just on Hallow's Eve, but all year? This is not your world, not your plane. You are a changeling child, put here as a gift to mankind. A gift, like so many others, ignored. And now you will return home as my love. My treasure. My gift."

The look she gave was an odd mix of disbelief and amusement. "Most people feel displaced. It's part of the human condition. I see things others don't because I look for them. And maybe because my imagination never quite dropped out of overdrive. And Bub, I don't belong to anyone but me and God, so get your head back to reality."

The last stroke of midnight sounded as she sat up, pushing her hair out of her face and looking for a band to put it in a ponytail. His chuckle vibrated against her thigh as he laid a kiss on it. "God may own your soul, but body, heart, and mind ARE mine." Darkness rose as her eyes widened. Her apartment faded.




Truth



At ten the next morning, people up and down her hall stuck their heads out of their doorways to locate the incessant pounding. Her three best friends stood there, banging madly on her door. Two days later, the police cracked the lock. Her Halloween costume remained draped over the desk chair. Her watch still sat on the bathroom sink. Her keys sat on the kitchen counter. Yet the apartment had a vacant feel, as though it had been empty for years rather than days. She was...



Truth about a Butterfly



She's gone. She's out of my life. Get over it. Move on. Although I speak this mantra many times to myself, I find that I'm nearer to a psychotic episode.

It becomes repetitive and I grow tired of trying to find her in places she no longer exists.

As of this writing, I look for some sort of closure to happen. Honestly, I'm certain that the very memory of knowing her has changed my life greatly, so I decided to recount annals of a so-called relationship that ended nearly a year ago.

Some three hundred days later and still she lingers.

Yes, it's true. I conditioned her into this state of being. Thoughts of a year's worth of connectedness schooled me in many ways. 

More often, I find myself delusional. I'm strung out over a potent substance that continues to sap me of my being.

So, allow me to take a hiatus from The Chronicles of Darius Flesher (which believe you-me is about to compound in intensity) to reveal such openness. 

Now, how do I categorize it? 

It's a little bit of Anal & Interracial. It's certainly, of all things, romantic. It's the very source that compels me to this current state of numbness and embittered resolve.

See, I knew it from the first moment I saw this butterfly. I had sensed that she harbored a dirty little secret. It was there, scrolled across her grill; concealed behind a fresh-liquored grin. 

Everything about my instincts cautioned me. Yet and still, I proceeded to move about the club, having ventured through trials of my own, seemingly unaffected.

I watched her interactions with men. Pseudo studs. At nearly six feet tall and dirty blonde, she sported a shapely build, which consisted of firm 36Cs, a curvaceous rump and slope hips, strong. She appeared to hold her own out on the dance floor. 

Her moves were more calculated than natural. 

At times, she appeared arrhythmic as though she tried too hard to balance her sense of sensuality. 

Of course, liquor had much to do with it.

*

The scene was early spring, two years back. It was the season of newness for myself as well, having ended a previous six-month relationship. I headed out with some of my boys for our usual Saturday night thang. We were faithful participants. 

After all, the 25 & older club was jumping with female prospects. It reminded me of a prelude to hedonism.

Inside contained the heart of all variable players. I maintained in studious mode. I'd already immersed myself in the requisite lewdness for having attended such an establishment. 

I'd nothing much to prove. I knew my indelible bouts with lust and sex left me with consequences. So, I thought I would move about more cautiously in my endeavors.

I admired the honesty many of the females projected at the club. They consisted of a mix between class and crass.

There were no inhibitions when it came time to displaying wanton craves for love and lust. You would've known by the time a techno version of "Heaven" segued into "Stranger in My House" whether you were fucked or fucked over.

Most of these men and women were aware that whether it was through age, children or divorce, there existed a fear of declining self-esteem or sensuality. 

It was as though sex defined every ounce of this being. This club allowed for these women to interact freely and test the proverbial boundaries of the flesh. Most of the men displayed nothing short of savagery.

Others succeeded in simply pairing up or evolving into relationships, however long.

I lingered in between.

Nothing was more evident of this fact than the after club sessions, undoubtedly a trip. The parking spots quickly turned into hot lots, peppered with partygoers. It was often the last chance at securing some ass or a compromised version of moonlight romanticism. 

On this particular evening, I waited for a good friend to don his groove on. I crossed through the same lot that I'd engaged lewdness in previously. 

I respected his need for satiating a piece of ass, as the lot was filled with persons and couples seeking equal bliss. 

As I stood nearby an electrical generator, I saw her squatting near a Volvo. The vehicle was filled with black men, several shades darker than myself.

She wore tight blue jeans and a wrap-around blousse, punctuated by high-heel leather boots.

I remembered thinking to myself, 'That's one to look out for!' I mean, c'mon, how many blondes are daring enough to uphold a conversation during an after-club night, before the entertainment of a liquored-up posse? 

She sensed my presence and glanced over to where I stood watching her. She would come to let me know, later on in the relationship, that it felt as though I were her protector, savior. Moments later, the car peeled off and miss butterfly fluttered over my way.

I can loosely recall the conversation we had because I'd been engulfed in a lethal combo myself, consisting of many Coronas and herbal enlightenment. 

Seconds slipped by and the next thing I knew, and, she would later concur, we were face to face. She was trapped within my arm/space. Our bodies held inches away from one another, as we stood up against the bumper of her Intrepid. 

We were both shot. She knew I was boozed slightly and stoned greatly. Through squinted eyes, we both gravitated towards conversation and space. 

She spoke of her need for independence while I merely listened and encouraged her not to be the sort of person that would use men for monetary status. 

We celebrated her independence. I was attracted to her spirit of self-awareness and sufficiency. 

"OHHH MY GOD!" Someone shouted just as we had imbibed in one-another's eyes.

As we looked around us, scattered glass surrounded a portion of the lot around where we stood. Her friend broke away from mine. 

And, suddenly, she slipped out of my night and existence, momentarily. I caught her name (which, for the sake of my sanity on this forum, I shall not repeat). It lingered. It was then that I noticed that the scattered glass came from a vehicle that brought me to the club. It happened to be my best friend's ride.

Someone had evidently shattered the passenger's window and stole some of the contents within, including my leather jacket, which had concealed in its pockets, a beefy-sized roach and a slamming mix CD. 

The circumstances were definitely shitty all the way around. However, I yearned for the moment to see her again. 

*

Two weeks later. Same spot. As I perused the club prospects, I ran into an ex-girlfriend of twelve-years past. She revealed to me how she thought I'd come to hate her for having left me so abruptly. I sensed that she wanted me presently, although, I wanted nothing to do with her.

I searched the room for more probable connections. I'd danced and made eye contact with a few women. I was blessed to have felt studly. 

Shortly after midnight, she crossed through, en route to the ladies room. I remember looking over to my friend with a smile, "The night has just begun, my man. The night has just begun!"

I followed from afar. I watched her standing in the back of the room and simply approached her. It took her minutes before she would remember me. She later revealed that our first meeting left a lingering desire. 

We grooved to a few sets. The song by Sean Paul, "Get Busy" comes to mind. She remarked on how good of a dancer I was. 

I forgot the slow song that played, but I remember feeling our rhythm was out of synch.

It was back to that infamous lot. This time, I climbed in the backseat and invited her to join me. My impulses were fierce.

We locked face to face. At first, her kisses were slow as she studied her assurance to mine. Gradually, her lips softened up and her mouth intercepted the probing velvet of my tongue. The passion contained in her Intrepid was enough to engulf her whip into flames.

Meanwhile, her friend climbed into my boy's SUV. Every now and again, she interfered during our exchange. Of course, we were all feeling just as nice as we had been two weeks ago. 

I scribed my digits on a note pad and encouraged her to give phone me. I kissed her goodbye and waited nearly a week before she called.

*

The ensuing weeks ahead were of storybook entries. We romanced. I braved, with every essence and being to ensure she had no reason to creep her presence with anyone else.

Everything I'd been so intimidated to release had subsided with her in my arms. 

An entirely new and romantic realm had opened its portal doors for my wonderment. I expressed my self in ways I'd long forgotten. 

We strolled by gardens and parkways. I prepared lavish morning breakfasts. I'd used every ounce of my creativity to show her worlds undreamt.

As far as the sex, yes, that first night was off the chain. We parked just outside of my apartment. Up until this point, we merely kissed and opened up soul. On one night,

I remember looking into her eyes and feeling the delusions of love thickening. 

"I'll give you the world just as long as you never fuck me over. Just be here and nowhere else!" I assured.

"That's not me. I simply enjoy Saturday night outings. I'm not about that." She answered.

We both acknowledged our fear of loss and commitment with teary eyes. I wasn't the heartening type, but she'd made me, especially on that night.

So, okay, you're wondering about the sex. Yes, we're back again. Our kisses contained coal fire and intensity. Since, I always prided myself as a connoisseur of cunnilingus, I moved down south. She wore a short skirt that I easily manipulated. I tugged her panties to the side only to observe that she had a jet-black bush, which contrasted her dirty-blonde head of hair.

She kept the short tuft trimmed like a land strip. I immediately tasted her sex and felt her wither away behind the wheel. I doubled my index and middle finger into the sopping center of her sex, while my tongue danced slick whiteness on the surface of her clit.

"Why don't you just park and come right in." I suggested firmly.

She complied. As we descended the hallway stairs, she showed no signs of nervousness. It was club night again. She had consumed just the right amount of liquor to have a righteous buzz going on.

We kissed. I immediately followed up with the tasting. I lavished in her butterfly folds. The long and protruding labium was ripe for the sucking, taut for consumption. I drank of her womanliness.

She moaned and quivered as I merely touched the entrance to her slivered sex with my cock. With just the slightest push, her excitement escalated as the tip of my dome rested partially between her butterfly folds. Of course, I buried my dick so deep that it threatened to demolish the bottom floor right out.

"Ohhhhhh," her face reddened. Her moans were soft and barely contained. She was left quivering in my arms as I threw her legs back for some shallow digging. At times, I switched it up when I felt I was at the brink of bursting. I would remove myself only to reassert my mouth on her openness. I couldn't get enough of suckling her folds.

That night, I erupted by removing my cock and spraying oceans of my fluidity all over her sex. Droplets of heated jizz caked and matted her blackish pubes. 

We then fell into serenity and stillness.

*

As the months rolled by, I expressed a love from the depths of which I'd never known. I tried desperately to have her compensate for my lack of openness in the past. We indulged in lavish dinners. I recited poetry and sung sugary ballads to her soul.

We fucked. We made love, although, she agreed to love me once, she never repeated those words again. I sensed apprehension behind her eyes. I sensed all she had been reluctant to say. 

The sex was always hot. We had sweat sessions that left body prints on linen sheets. We did at it on the stairs, in the parlor, in the dining room. My cock penetrated her deeply and lapped up waves of frothy bliss only to be devoured by the equal greed of my mouth.

I tried to keep our discussions on past loves down to a minimal. She once told me how an ex-lover wanted her to fuck another man while he watched. I wasn't so sure if she'd actually had gone through with it. I remember distinctly asking her if she'd ever had two lovers, not necessarily simultaneously, but back to back, on separate visits. She denied having had the experience.

Our months would soon be saturated with scarce visits. I opened up all the more and questioned much of why her time was limited, more so, why she was so reluctant to accept me as her man. 

She indicated all the signs that I should've seen had I not been prone to a touch of Helen Keller syndrome. I began to feel the sink of my cock, easily finding its way to the bottom of her cunt. My soul kept telling me someone had been there before me. She denied it when I loosely confronted her.

I couldn't simply walk away. I gave too much of myself, which brings me to Valentine's Day. I'd prepared a huge brunch for this woman consisting of homemade, heart-shaped Belgian waffles topped with mounds of syrupy strawberries and fresh cream, maple flavored sausage links and gourmet, fresh-brewed Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee.

I spliced together fourteen poems and compiled love music for our makings. Helium balloons wafted dizzily through the apartment. A fresh vase of red, long stemmed roses rested firmly on the dining room table. 

In contrast, she baked some heart-shaped cookies and produced a card that merely wished me a Happy Valentine's Day. 

I overlooked all she had not shown at that point. I overlooked the fact that she had to work and could only spend less than two hours that morning with me. We promised to make up our Valentine's Day two days later. I requested that she sleep over, something that no matter how late we stayed up at my crib, she was unable to fulfill.

She promised to wear something revealing. The only revelation I found myself in was her continued apprehension to show me the love we both knew I deserved.

Yes, I pressured her somewhat. However, she continued to disguise a truth I felt was encompassing her body, mind and soul. On that make-up Valentine's night, I prepared a gourmet meal and decorated the bedroom with an overstretched banner that read:

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

Crinkly-red confetti scattered throughout the bedroom. More balloons wafted throughout the room. I threw on the soulful grooves of "More and More" by Joe. 

She approached me with a sorrowful look on her face. Apparently, Mother Nature was about to produce its tidal-red flow so her logic was, get it while the getting was good. She produced no negligee or seductive garb. It was just straight up nude wear. 

I don't recall whether I felt her pussy stretch widely. I only know that the lovemaking was sublime, even though I had immersed deeper soul content than she. 

I displayed my kinky side by inserting a vibrating butt plug into her budding anus. She knew of my predilection for being swallowed. 

"Promise me you'll drink of my every drop!" I beckoned as she writhed on top of me.

Face to face, we celebrated sex in her favorite position, cowgirl. The orgasms flowed easily.

She kept herself shaved completely, so the sticky substance she secreted coated my shaved cock as well.

Her breasts pressed against my chest. Her tongue and heavy kisses matched the intensity mine produced. I doubled my motions by slightly pushing her pelvis up from mine, so as to create drilling space.

In and out my cock burrowed through deeply. I had the plug inserted all the way down to the base, anally. She quivered in triple time. The intervals in which she moaned and trembled fascinated me. 

"Promise me that you'll drink for me. Please!" I was relentless. I counted only once during our numerous sex sessions that such a relished occasion happened, half-successfully.

I rose up off the bed, while the anal plug still vibrated deep in her ass. I rested my bulbous dome on the fat of her tongue. I prompted her hand to jerk me off into tiny spasms that would shortly lead into tumultuous waves.

I asked that she grind for me as I continued to plow her ass with the toy. I erupted in streams that she obligingly downed. Spurts of penned up cum juice filled her mouth unlike ever before. She swallowed completely to my satisfaction.

She left me empty on that Valentine's night, as I'd given everything encompassing of my being. I'd nothing left. Not a drop to give back to myself. I expressed a love of soul and creativity as I assured her that there wouldn't be anyone else like me to ever come into her life.

I asked her that night, "So whose my competition?"

"Yourself." She replied.

*

As the months progressed, I saw miss butterfly thang, less and less. She spaced herself from me. It wasn't until five months later that I happened to simply drive down a hidden rode and short cut through my own town. I saw her car parked in a driveway. 

I scanned the digits on her plate. Processed year, car and make. I made the match.

I saw a stocky brutha-man hop out of the house and into her whip. He drove away, making eye contact with me briefly, as I parked beneath the shade.

I realized he had this familiarity about him.

He had a bald head like mine. His head was bald like mine. He was short and stocky, several shades deeper than my brown skin.

The way he drove her car. I knew he'd always been there. What's more, I remember the conversation she had about a boyfriend she had been with for over two years. 

It took that sorrowful incident to awaken me from my stupor. It's what I'd known, yet quickly dismissed for fear of not fulfilling my need for redemption.

I left a message on the windshield later that evening. I simply wished her best. I let her know that the sort of love that I gave never asked for her to necessarily match it fully but it required honesty. I imagined he could never come close in twice his lifetime to duplicating my love for her.

However, she wasn't ready for love. I had to come to this realization. She wasn't ready for the intense and devotional means to which I'd been prepared to give. 

I had multiple opportunities to fuck. Yet, I chose to be true. It was a rarity in my life to be faithful for over a year's worth of time plagued by doubt and uncertainty.

What I've come to realize is that he'd always been there. I never really saw her for who she truly was, and, maybe on some strange perverse level, I probably entertained wanting to perform some threesome.

I've sensed it on this forum how husbands and lovers were often willing to include some other member of the same or opposite sex into the foray. However, the commonality rests that on some level there needs to be a sort of commitment or honesty towards that partner of choice. 

Indeed it's a strange code of devotion. One thing that I keep getting back to is on one night when she asked me off the cuff, "Please don't ever ask me to do that..."

Her reference was in asking her to perform double penetration. I didn't know what stirred that about. I only know that when I plowed into her doggie style, I happened to notice that her anus had a swollen bump. When I questioned her, she remarked that no one had been there but me. 

I thought it strange that she would take immediate defense, but again I dismissed it like a fool. On the nights following our let go, I often jacked off to the thoughts of being a member of this fuck sandwich.

Still, there was a part of me that would've accepted her all the more had she been straight up about harboring myself as her anonymous lover. It's what I'd known but allowed myself to have been easily misdirected by her words.

I feel as though I know her lover. I mean, aren't we linked in some sort of bodily experience? After all, my soul felt his presence had branded her orifice whenever she and I sexed.

I know she's still with the same guy. I know where she stays is less than seven minutes from my home. 




Truth about a Butterfly



Simply put, I was meant to be in her life to show her what love was supposed to have been like. I was meant to show her how to expect of nothing less.

While I can't control the good that she's learned from this, I can only pray that through the myriad of times we'd spent together, the memories will adhere. She assured me of this much. I'm just not sure how deep or long it will linger.

My inability to decipher clarity, within the year we'd been together, was in part due to the fact that I chose to make this butterfly my source of redemption. Previously, I'd lost a ten-year relationship. My displays of affection were shot. 

As for myself, I've moved on. I've found a beautiful woman that gives me everything I've ever dreamt of. The more I'm with this woman, the more I've come to realize what I'd been missing. 

Yes, I yearned to fuck miss butterfly's ass into an opening worthy of fitting any remnant of my soul through. Yes, she marred me in many ways but I'm wiser. And, my reason for this submission is to gain more semblance of closure.

At times, I said to myself, there'll be nights when she's faced with her present uncertainty. There'll be days when she'll reminisce and realize that however rare she once declared of my love, nothing would have ever compared. 

I will always love her as she said love is comprised of many layers. But, I will never be caught up in the same predicament. I'm much too guarded for that. At times, it feels as though I can give into a state of numbness.

This year, I spent my Valentine's Day fucking my woman's ass with zero abandonment. I purchased an oversize card, flowers and a helium balloon.

I prepared another gourmet meal and attempted to make her feel as queenly as possible.

Of course, I'm no saint. I too indulged in secretive sex in the lewd confines and alleyways located in the dark of dark, disguised behind key-coded doors of hotel rooms.

I was no stranger to outright fucking. I engaged myself in threesomes and other lascivious affairs (as depicted in the Chronicles of Darius Flesher).

Karma was bound to find me. I will never know the full truth about miss butterfly. Everyone has an insidious clump of dirt wedged somewhere within. 

I suppose she's only human too. I justified her actions and figured she simply got caught up. She'd not expected me to come along and had lost the wherewithal to nip it in the bud before it blossomed into a Venus fly trap.

Who knows, maybe she'll happen upon this entry only to remember well the author who loved her so. Maybe the love I gave was contagious. 

In any case, she taught me much about myself. In her own strange way, she'd been honest about not labeling us for she'd been uncertain of her stay. She later admitted to delving from one place to the next, although she never spoke of her man.

Even as I venture to wrap up this entry, I know that I'll find her Intrepid still parked in his driveway. She's in the place where she belongs. 

And, this evening, I too will entertain my present stay in where I belong. My cock currently convulses at the thought of stopping by a XXX shop just to pick up a steamy DVD.

Lets see, maybe the latest release from Red Light District Video, "Fully Loaded."

I feel some cream pies coming on.

So, what of love? I don't know it feels like I left my last attempt with her. If anything else, I need to assure that I'll always have enough to give back to myself. I've wallowed in self-degradation for far too long. 

I'll simply convert my shortcomings into some hellafied accounts of lascivious sex. 

I'd like to thank the creators of this forum for allowing me the opportunity to channel.

I thank my readers for their support.

Oh, and thank you Ms. Butterfly thang for enhancing my creative gifts!



Truth & Consequences



AUTHOR'S NOTE: There is no sex in this story. This is an attempt to examine some of the underlying causes of an affair and the emotions that might occur. I also wanted to explore the difficulties that might be encountered by a couple that try to save a marriage after an affair.

Dear Phil,

By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I find that I cannot go on like this. Ever since you caught me cheating six months ago, we have been living a lie. We told each other that we would stay together to try to rebuild our marriage, but this has not happened. I cannot live like this any longer. I have found an apartment so we can each take the time to consider whether we are willing to make the effort needed to save our marriage. 

I have come to accept the sad fact that I may have destroyed our marriage beyond repair. It has taken me a long time, but I now believe that, unless things change drastically, there is no way that we can ever get back to the happy marriage we had before. I am leaving to give you an opportunity to do the soul searching that I have done. I know I lost your love and trust. I need you to decide if there is anyway that I can ever regain it. 

Ever since you caught me in bed with Jeff on that trip last September I have tried to do what I can to rebuild our love and your trust. To the outside world and all of our friends, I have kept up the pretence that nothing is wrong. That we remain a happy couple and I am your loving wife. I have tried to do what I can to make your time as pleasant as possible. 

I accepted your mistrust and questioning of what I am doing as a natural consequence of my actions. While unhappy, I did not complain when you told me to move into the guest bedroom. I have tried to give you the space and time you needed to get over my betrayal, while still remaining there for you both physically and emotionally. On those occasions when you have sought physical release, I have provided you with sex as often as you have wanted and have refused you nothing. I have tried to show you both by my actions and my words that I am sorry and wanted with all of my heart to make it up to you. 

I did all this because I wanted desperately for you to forgive me so we could rebuild our lives. I knew I was wrong and selfish and had destroyed our marriage. 

I hoped that over time, you would see my efforts and join me in the process of healing the hole in the middle of our life. But this has not happened. I cannot continue to live as your wife without your love and trust. The fact that I cheated and betrayed you gives you ample reason to divorce me, it does not give you reason to control and destroy the rest of my life. 

I have told you that I am sorry. I have tried to discuss the matter with you and you refuse to discuss it. I suggested that we seek counseling and you refused. We cannot pretend that nothing happened. If we are to get beyond this you need to gain some understanding of why I acted like I did. But you remain closed to me. 

When we first talked about my affair, the one question you wanted me to answer was why. You told me that you needed to know why I had had thrown away our marriage and our love. At that time, I wasn't able to give you an answer that you could understand. All I tried to do was justify my actions and evade the consequences of what I had done. I couldn't explain it to you because I didn't really know why myself.

Over the past six months, your question "why" has haunted me. At night, I lie awake trying to answer that question for myself. I have finally gotten to the point where I have a better understanding of why the affair started. I accept full responsibility for my actions. I acted like a fool and destroyed the things that meant more to me that anything else: your love and our marriage. I have constantly thought about what I did and why. I realize now that you may never be able to forgive me nor will I ever be able to forgive myself. But, in order for both of us to move on with our lives, either together or apart, I need you to know that I finally understand the pain and suffering that I caused. 

I was the worst type of hypocrite. Throughout our marriage I made it clear to you that I could not accept it if you were unfaithful to me. I shunned those who had betrayed their spouses in any way. I was unwilling to forgive them or to even associate with them. I felt there was no excuse for that type of behavior. 

Now, I understand that my view was overly simplistic. I still believe cheating is wrong, even mine. But, when you discovered my affair, I was hoping that you could give me what I was never able to give to others: compassion and forgiveness. I have come to realize that in a moment of weakness everyone is capable of making mistakes. It does not excuse the action, but if the love is strong enough, hopefully the mistake can be overcome. 

But, forgiveness must be earned. It was not enough for me to tell you that I am sorry. In order for you to be able to forgive me, you must know that I am aware of the pain that my actions caused. You must also know that I have discovered why I acted in such a self-destructive fashion so that it will never happen again. You must believe that I am sorry, not only for the consequences of my actions, but also for the actions themselves. This has been painful for me because when I examine my actions closely, I realize that while this affair was going on, I was not a very nice person. I did not think of you or our marriage, I only thought about myself. 

I am sorry to admit that I began to take our love and our marriage for granted. I lost focus on what was truly important and grew complacent in our love. When we first got married, I gloried in the fact that you were not only my husband and lover, but you were my best friend. Every action that we took was made with a focus on how it would affect our marriage and love. We talked over everything and we made every decision together.

But, over time, somehow we lost that closeness. Maybe it was lost because we thought that we knew each other so well we could predict how the other one would act. We each started to make decisions without consulting the other. I still considered you my best friend, but I lost track of what that meant. I began to forget the reasons why we had become best friends. I became so convinced that nothing could shake our love for each other, that I put my own desires ahead of our love. In short, I grew selfish.

I did not set out to betray you. You did nothing wrong and gave me no reasons to look for sex anywhere else. My affair began not because of a desire for something better or something more, but because of a moment's weakness. I was lonely and feeling sorry for myself.

You will recall that my affair began when we were both swamped with work. We stopped making time for each other and we were spending a lot of time apart. When you phoned me to say that you would not make it back in time from your business trip to see me before I left for the convention in March, I lost it. I was vulnerable; feeling incredibly sorry for myself and extremely frustrated sexually. You had been away on your trip for two long weeks and I had been looking forward to making love to you the night before I left. When you did not make it home, I felt cheated of my pleasure. 

It was my bad luck to run into Jeff at the convention. You know that Jeff and I had dated before you and I met. What you may not know is that, for a time, I was in a very serious relationship with Jeff and had even talked of marriage. We broke up when we discovered that our connection was based more on physical attraction than on a love for one another. I accepted Jeff's invitation to dinner because I was lonely and needed a friend. 

Over dinner, Jeff made me remember why I had been attracted to him. He is fun to be with and can be very attentive when he is seeking companionship. As the night went on, Jeff took me to the hotel bar for a few drinks and dancing. I know now that it was stupid, but I ended up telling Jeff about how frustrated I was feeling because you had not made it home. Like a fool, I let Jeff know that I was ripe for seduction.

I do not want you to think that I am trying to blame Jeff for my actions. Yes, Jeff did take the initiative in seducing me. Yes, Jeff was the one who asked me if I would go to his room with him, but I have no excuse. While he initiated the seduction, I did not do what I should have done to discourage him. I knew what would happen when I agreed to go back to his room. I knew that there was a good chance that I would get fucked, and to be honest, I was excited by the idea. I'm sorry to admit this, but my decision was based partly on my memory of his skill as a lover. I was aroused and I knew that he could give me the orgasms that I needed to relieve my frustration. 

I agreed to have sex with Jeff with full knowledge of what I was doing. I knew that I was cheating on you but told myself that it did not matter because you would never find out and it was a one-time occurrence. I told myself that it was just sexual release and meant nothing. I deluded myself and let own selfishness take over. 

Please do not believe that my affair was in any way caused by my dissatisfaction with you as a lover. You are an incredible and considerate lover that gives me anything that I can desire. You are a better lover than Jeff is. But, he was there and you were not and I let my own selfish desire for release overrule my judgment.

I betrayed you, not once but many times over. Maybe you would have forgiven me if I had ended it after that one night. Maybe then, I could have forgiven myself. I know it is not much, but at least I had the excuse of my sexual frustration and my long time attraction to Jeff. I did feel guilty for betraying you when I finally got back to my room that first night and vowed not to let it happen again. But over the course of the next few days, my guilt was overwhelmed by my memory of the pleasure that Jeff had given me. I minimized my guilt by thinking that I was not hurting you. I thought only of my pleasure and finally decided that I would get together with Jeff again if he asked me.

I can find no explanation for my actions for the rest of that week. When he asked me out to dinner on the third day of the conference, I knew what he was expecting. Despite this, I willingly agreed to go out to dinner and gladly went with him back to his room to spend the night. I found myself spending more time with him as the week went on. I was selfish and thought only of my own pleasure. I was not in love with Jeff and was only using him for my own self-gratification. I am ashamed to admit that, once I saw Jeff the second time, I stopped feeling guilty. I was not thinking of you or our marriage at all. I am sorry to say that I betrayed you, our marriage and myself.

Yes, we did talk on the phone that week and I knowingly lied to you. I would tell you how bored I was and how lonely I felt, even though I knew I was meeting Jeff later that night. I kept on telling myself that I was not hurting you because you were two thousand miles away and would never find out.

It was not until I saw you at the airport, that I realized what I done. I panicked and almost confessed my infidelity to you. But you welcomed me with open arms and told me how much you missed me. Yes, I felt guilty, but, even then, I continued my betrayal. I justified my actions in my own mind and made myself believe that my affair did not really hurt you because it happened while I was away. 

I told myself that it wasn't like I had cheated on you at home. After all, I wasn't taking time away from you to spend time with Jeff. I never once thought how I badly I would have been hurt if you had done the same to me on one of your trips. 

I justified my failure to confess by thinking it was for the good of our marriage. After all, I loved you and would only hurt you for no reason if I confessed. I promised that I would make it up to you by being a loving wife from that point on. Looking back, I can't believe how self-serving and selfish that I was. My actions were not for you or us: they were only for me. Please understand that I now regret every one of my actions bitterly because of the hurt that it caused to you and to our marriage.

I promised myself that my involvement with Jeff was over. I vowed never to cheat on you again. When Jeff first contacted me by email after the convention, I didn't know what to do. I was flattered that he wanted to see me again, but I was also determined not to let it happen. I knew that it could only hurt our marriage. But, I wasn't strong enough to tell Jeff to leave me alone and eventually found myself responding to his emails. 

At first, Jeff's emails were seemingly innocent. He told me how nice it had been to spend time with me at the convention. But, over time, they began to change. He started to tell me how he wanted to get together with me again, and he got very explicit in describing what he wanted to do to me. His interest did excite me and flatter me and I began to respond by asking him what else he wanted to do. In my selfishness, I continued to betray you by what could only be considered a cyber affair. I found that I got an illicit thrill from the cyber sex I shared with Jeff. I continued to get in deeper over my head.

When I got scared you might find out, I didn't stop what I was doing, I just tried to cover my tracks. I tried to justify my correspondence with Jeff by rationalizing that it meant nothing. After all, he was on the other coast and all we were doing was exchanging emails. I told myself that all I was doing was improving our sex life. As a result of the emails, I was more aroused than I had been in years and you were getting the benefit of it by better and more frequent loving. I told myself that I loved you and my actions weren't hurting our marriage. 

But, looking back at my actions, I have come to realize that my love for you was not as strong as my love for myself. If I had loved you as much as I thought, I would not have continued. I would have understood that whether or not you were aware of what was happening, I was hurting you every time I responded to Jeff. I also would have been more concerned for how much this would hurt you when you eventually found out. It was only after it was all over that I finally realized how foolish I had become. 

I told myself that I was only thinking of you when we made love, but I now know that I was only trying to justify my actions. My rationalizations did not and cannot excuse my actions. My continuing contact with Jeff can only be considered a betrayal of you and our marriage. I now understand why you felt that my actions humiliated you. I understand the anger and pain you felt when you realized that your wife felt it necessary to live a second secret life. For the pain that I caused to you, I will be forever sorry.

When Jeff found out that I was scheduled to speak at the convention in September, he immediately made plans to attend and told me that he wanted to pick up where we had left off. I did try to resist and told him that it would not happen. I knew that if I did meet with him, I was descending a slippery slope that could only lead to disaster. But, he continued to push me down and tried to convince me that we weren't hurting you if we got together only during the conventions. 

When I left for that convention, I honestly did not know what would happen. I promised myself that would avoid Jeff and nothing would happen. I thought about canceling my speaking engagement. I tried to get you to come so you could protect me from my own weakness. When you told me that you could not get the time off from work, I was worried that I could not resist Jeff when I saw him. 

Deep down, I think that I went to that convention fully expecting that I would be with Jeff. Even my worries were not the actions of a wife who loved her husband, for if they were, I would have explained to you why I did not want to go to the convention alone. My actions were that of a weak, selfish person who was worried that she could not control her own desires. 

I know now that you knew of my affair long before I left for the September convention. You began to suspect something when you caught me lying to you about where I was during the convention last March. You found my emails to Jeff and you knew that he would be at the convention. You knew that he wanted to see me again and you knew that my resistance to him was weak. You must have known that you might catch me in his arms.

You flew out to the convention not to stop me, but to watch me. You wanted to discover whether I would meet up with Jeff. You were there that second night when Jeff finally caught up to me and convinced me to have dinner with him. You even called me on my cell phone to find out if I would lie to you about where I was. You watched him get me drunk and get me aroused as we danced. You saw us leave the bar and go up to his room. You then waited before coming up to confront us so we would have time to get undressed. 

To be honest, I am glad that Jeff refused to let you into the room when you knocked on the door demanded that he let you in. As soon as I heard your voice, I knew that I was caught. I knew that you would not believe Jeff if he told you that I was not there. But, I didn't want you to see me like I was. 

By the time you started to pound on the door, we were both undressed and Jeff had already begun to fuck me. I knew that if you had come in and seen me like that it would have broken your heart. I was also afraid that you would have gotten violent. Jeff was also afraid of what you might do. He wanted to call hotel security, but I would not let him do so. I could hear the anger and pain in your voice as you pounded on the door and I knew that I was the cause. 

It was clear that you knew I was there. So, I told Jeff to admit it. But, I asked him to try to stall you. I wanted to get dressed before he opened the door. Maybe I thought that I might still be able to fool you if we could get dressed fast enough. I am sorry that I did not call out to you, but I was in shock. All I could think was that my worst nightmares had come true and that you had found out. When I finally got dressed and opened the door, you had already gone. 

I did try to catch you before you left, but I did not know where you were staying. I ran to my room in the hopes that you might have gone there, but all I found was the note you had left telling me that you wanted a divorce. All I could think of was getting home as quickly as possible to try to convince you otherwise.

This brings me to my final act of betrayal: The fact that my initial thoughts were how I might be able to lie in order to avoid the consequences of my actions. As I flew back home, my remorse was not for my actions or what I did to you. Rather, I felt sorry for myself for getting caught and destroying my marriage. All I could think about was whether I could come up with some type of story that might convince you that nothing had happened between Jeff and myself. I know now that my continued lies are what make it hard for you to ever trust me again.

Deep down I knew that you had found out about Jeff. But even then, I was not thinking of you or how I had hurt you. My only thought was how I could avoid the consequences that I deserved. As soon as I got home, I had the opportunity to confess everything to you and to tell you I was sorry. But, I only thought of myself and tried to avoid the consequences of my actions. I was weak. I tried to lie. And, in doing so I continued to betray you. 

The whole way home, I told myself that I could deceive you. I thought that I might be able to convince you that I had met Jeff at the conference and we were just renewing our friendship. I thought that, if necessary, I would confess to you what happened in Jeff's room when you caught me, while pretending that this was the first time we had gotten together. I deluded myself and thought that if I could hide or minimize my betrayal from you, we could continue our happy marriage. I forgot that a good marriage must be built on trust as much as on love. 




Truth and Consequences



Doesn't anyone believe in truth in advertising any more? He says in his ad, "I like aerobics, hiking, biking, and being in the great outdoors" - and then when I meet him, he's 30 or more pounds overweight, and looks disparagingly at my short-waisted, heavy-breasted figure, rejecting me instantly. Not that I couldn't benefit from losing 20 pounds or so-though I doubt I could lose more. I've got big boobs, a short waist, and wide shoulders, so most men take one glance at me and decide that I'm too fat. They don't take the time to discover that there isn't really all that much extra poundage on me at all-or god forbid, that there's more to me than my body. They never think about the fact that the most important sex organ is the brain-not the waistline!

But what if I could write the ad I really want to, for the kind of man that I've been dreaming of? God knows where I'd put it, since I don't know any X-rated publications, and would be scared to advertise in any of them anyway. I mean, fantasies aside, I do live in the real world-- STDs and AIDS are more real than I want to think about, horny or not.

And therein lies the dilemma-do I indulge my sexual fantasies that I have put off for far too long, or do I do the sensible thing that most 40-something year old women would do, and just buy another vibrator?

Well, my role model has always been Auntie Mame-"Live! Live! Live! Life is a banquet and most poor fools are starving to death!"-so here goes-what the hell. It's just a fantasy, anyway, right??

WANTED-DREAM LOVER

"I'm waiting for you-but I don't want to wait forever. You're tall, 6'2" or more, with dark hair and eyes, and a muscular build. A romantic, you've been waiting for the woman you've always dreamed about, just as I have always dreamed about you. I see you in my dreams, appearing beside my bed, your naked body hot and yearning for mine, my long legs, big breasts, narrow hips, and my wet, eager pussy. Every part of you is beautiful, from your thick-lashed eyes to your beautiful long thick cock. Dance with me, my love, let me draw you into my body, show me your desire, fill me with your seed, and hold me close to you forever."

In other words, sweep me off my feet, pounce on my lush body, fuck me every way you can, and then start all over again. But the personals can't be as direct and specific as fantasies But if they could, who knows what might happen-maybe this would....

He was the first man to answer my ad, and I was delighted. He was 6'4", and muscular, so maybe his cock was at least close to what he'd bragged about-7" long, 2" thick-and able to fuck for an hour or more. We talked for hours, and arranged to meet the next night. I was glad I'd been honest about myself-5'8", 44D-34-40-he said he couldn't wait to get his hands and his mouth on my huge boobs. Frankly, neither could I!! I love to have my boobs rubbed and cuddled and squeezed, and make sure that my nipples stay sensitive by playing with them everyday. When I'm at work, I wear thick bras-I work at a public service desk and it wouldn't do for me to show my hard, hurting, wanting nipples to every man who walks in. But when I come home-it's the first thing I take off, so I can enjoy the freedom and the chance to tease my nipples whenever I please-and as hard as I please!

I saw him when I walked into the bar-anyone as tall as he is stands out in a crowd. He hadn't seen me walk in, so I paused a minute to take a long, luxurious look. There was no doubt he was worth it. He'd told me the basics on the phone-dark brown hair and eyes, silver at the temples, glasses, average build, with just a hint of love handles at his waistline. He had on jeans that clung to his legs and the gorgeous tight butt he'd forgotten to mention. Yum! I do like a man who can make my mouth water from both the front and the back views! He had on a black polo shirt, and when he turned around, I could see just a bit of curly dark hair showing at the the neck. He wasn't classically handsome, his face was interesting, craggy, and looked like he could be either cuddly or slightly dangerous, and very, very sexy.

He turned around, saw me looking at him, and grinned. I felt my breath quicken and my pussy quivered and clenched involuntarily. His sexy eyes sparkled with humor and intelligence behind the horn-rimmed glasses. Lifting his glass of white wine, he toasted me with it, and I walked over to join him at the bar. Putting his arm around me, he kissed me gently, saying, "I'm glad you're here. You look wonderful. How could anyone possibly think anything different?" I melted onto the bar stool, too overwhelmed to say more than "Thank you."

I was wearing one of my favorite outfits-I'd decided I wanted him to see the real me, the person I am with my friends. The long-sleeved leopard skin top fitted perfectly, clinging to my boobs and short enough to not cover my ass, accented by the Indian concho belt slung low around my hips. My jeans were so tight they left nothing to the imagination, and I'd pulled my tall black boots over them. I wore a rope of turquoise heishi, long turquoise earrings, and my usual assortment of rings. I don't wear a lot of makeup, except for eye shadow, and my hair is long and straight, halfway down my back, and dark with a silver streak on one side. It wasn't a look that seemed to be a turn-on for a lot of men, but I liked it, and I knew I looked good. Now I knew that Lee liked it, too.

"What did you do last night, after we hung up?" I asked, with a teasing grin. We'd talked for hours, covering all kinds of subjects, ending up with a discussion of our favorite sexual fantasies and preferences. Finally, we'd both come so hard it felt like we were drowning in sensation.

His voice had been low and sexy in my ear, stroking me like a caressing hand. Listening to him, my nipples were throbbing, and my pussy wet and trembling. As he told me what he wanted to do to me, I let myself pretend that my hand was his, pinching my nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, then kneading my whole breast with his hands. He slipped his big hand into my wetness, stroking gently, teasing my clit, then sinking deep inside me. As I moaned in ecstasy, I began telling him what I wanted to do for him.

I caressed his hot cock, taking a deep breath of the heavy scent of his sex, then gently wiping the drop of precum from its tip, and sucking it, tasting as well as smelling his desire for me. Putting my hand around him, I stroked him, rubbing my thumb gently down the thick vein on its underside. His skin felt like hot velvet covering a steely hardness. Leaving his cock, my hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently in my fingers. Hearing his gentle moan, I drew him toward my mouth, knowing I wanted to give him as much pleasure as he was giving me.

I had never indulged in phone sex before, but Lee's voice had been able to touch me in ways I had never experienced. I knew I was in for the most erotic, sensuous sexual experience of my life, and I was determined to make sure it was just as good for him as it would be for me.

"I made love to you all night, in my dreams," he whispered into my ear. "You came over and over and over. I've never seen a woman so beautiful and wild when she came. I can't wait to be with you when I'm not dreaming."

"I dreamed about you, inside me, touching, licking, sucking me all over my body. When I woke up, there were damp spots of the sheets, from all the times you made me come in my dreams, and my mouth was hungry for the feel and taste of your cock. I thought the day would never end-now I want our first night together to last forever."



Truth and Consequences



It all came to a head one day when Trisha had come home from work, her husband had been at home after having surgery on his knee and as he had probed their computer in attempts to clean off files to make it run a bit faster he had found her secret stash of phone numbers and porn. Now while the porn alone wasn't disturbing to him, it was the nature of the pictures that he had found alluring. She had saved numerous images of girls tied up and bound in different positions. She also had pictures of girls with clamps placed on their bodies as well as different slave positions. All these years five and a half to be exact and he hadn't known that she had a craving for D/s activities. Sure she had enjoyed a light swatting on her ass during sex and at times asked him to do it harder but she had never shown signs of this interest before. 

This is when he had opened another file and found the phone numbers along with names of whom they belonged to. Log in names on yahoo had been her method of keeping them straight and each one had been a dominant name or had a dom profile. He couldn't believe she had been seeking an outside outlet for her sexual needs without confiding in him first if she only had she would have known that they were on the same page. That he also had a deep desire to explore this realm with her and that was about the time she walked through the door.

"Trish come into the den now," Dave bellowed. 

Trish having no idea what her husband wanted or why his tone was so demanding decided to slip in and see what was wrong. Maybe he had hurt his knee again and was stuck and pissed off by the situation of needing her assistance. As Trish walked through the door she saw him sitting and the computer with the pictures she had downloaded blown up in front of him as well as the sight of the other open folder containing the names of the doms she played with every so often as the need arose. She froze thinking about how she would explain this when Dave spoke up.

"Shut up and stop thinking slut," he ordered, "I know you are panicking already and you are aware that I now know more of your secrets that you would like, well honey it's about to get a lot worse."

Trish felt her heart give a leap in her chest and she briefly thought about turning tail and running right out of the house and getting into her car and driving as far and fast as possible. But suddenly the submissive nature in her took over and she knelt down next to Dave's chair. "Honey, I can explain everything," she told him through teary eyes. 

"No need I have everything that I needed to know right here in front of me princess. I hope you understand the serious ramifications that this is going to have," Dave told her with an evil grin.

Trish was quite unsure of what exactly Dave had in mind and she feared the worst, knowing that this would give him grounds for a divorce if he had found out she had secretly met any of these men on one of her business trips. But, she was also willing to do whatever it would take to hold her marriage together. As she knelt there she felt the urge to spew out all that had happened and why she had done everything that she had. Silently though she waited for him to begin and let her know what he had found and what the future held for her.

"Trish this is completely unacceptable," he said as he tried to desperately keep his plan in check and not move ahead to fast, "I know what I have found here but I think perhaps you should confess to me everything so that I can determine the best course of action right now."

"But Dave," she began, "I don't even know where to start." Sighing she thought she would begin with the files on the computer, the images of those girls and the movie files of girls getting spanked and used for men's pleasure and then on to the phone numbers. She would omit the meetings unless he knew of them; no reason to let him know exactly how much was done without some searching. "Dave, about two years ago I found some of these images on a Website and while at first I had been a bit revolted the more I looked at it I became turned on. I wanted to tell you but wasn't sure if you thought it would make me a freak in your eyes. The movies are something I found on another Website and I just had to see the ideas in my head in action. Finally the phone numbers were some contacts I made through chat rooms and websites, they are all dominant men that I admit I have played around online with and even had a few raunchy phone calls with."

By this time tears were streaming down her cheeks and Dave knew that she was right were he wanted her, on the edge of breaking down and worried about the future of their marriage. Also she had to be stressed and if she had even known the half of what he was planning her panties would surely be soaked by now. He allowed her to wipe the mascara stained tears from her cheeks and then he wondered if she had met these men on any trips. He didn't really want to think she had done this but in the long run it would be best to find out now that down the road and be irate all over again. Better to punish and break her down now and have that little extra bit over her head than to let her think she still had something hidden from him and have a secret edge.

"Trish, think carefully before you answer this next question. Have you ever met any of these men and partaken in any carnal acts or submitted to them as the girls in these videos and pictures did?"

Trish's breath caught in her throat, she felt the lump there and wasn't sure she could answer her husband, the one thing she had hoped that he wouldn't ask had now been put out there in the open and she knew that if she lied now and he found out later they would definitely get a divorce and he would never let her live this down. "Yes, Dave, oh I'm so sorry baby, I did meet two of them though, only once for sex, just because the session we shared was so intense I had to feel the passion taken even higher. Oh god Dave, please, I'm so sorry, I didn't think you would ever find out nor would you give me the chance to explain if you did. I'll do anything to make it up to you, anything baby just give me a chance."

Dave had not completely expected the last little confession but surprisingly he didn't feel the same rage he had anticipated, he did feel however nearly half of that anger rising up and he had to fight the urge to reach out and strike his beautiful wife. He had never laid a hand upon her though out of anger, today would be the first time but he suspected she would like it when he did.

"All right angel, this is how things are going to work out, from this point on you are forbidden contact with any of these men except to notify them later today that you will not be having any more contact with them. Also, I have decided that since you cannot be trusted on the computer I will change the passwords and you will no longer be allowed online without my supervision, I have already instructed your computer techs at work to fix it so you may only check your work email while in the office and that you are not to be allowed access to any other sites. This is only the beginning, you look like you want to protest right now, let me suggest that you keep your fucking mouth shut and not say a word until your husband is finished if you want to keep things as good between us as they can be."

Trish just nodded through her veil of tears and she knew that was deadly serious and that he wasn't going to give her an inch to run with from now on. She also didn't know if he would be going to any more extremes but she thought that he might, if so she would have no line of recourse, for if she tried she knew deep down that he would destroy her credibility and her image in the town they lived in. In her line of work devastation like that would force her to move and change careers. She wasn't about to incur that destruction so she would adhere to any terms and limits he set upon her.

Dave watched her closely seeing the realization spread across her face and in her eyes as she looked up at him pleadingly, while he had only toyed with the thoughts of domination and had played himself online in that role and at fleeting times when he and Trish had role played he was determined now to thrust himself into learning all he could from members of that community and from all he could find online and in books. He knew it wouldn't be an overnight jump into perfection but he knew that when he dedicated himself into mastering something he had always gained the knowledge and limits he sought. This would be no different and now he had even more of a driving force behind he quest. His marriage and sexual enjoyment was about to find limitless boundaries and he could see the wonderful possibilities lying before him.

"Trish for starters we are going to start a new disciplinary plan around here. First of all you are going to be punished for the indiscretions that I have found out about and also that you have given confession to. Tonight will be your last night of anything resembling freedom. For I have a plan brewing inside this head of mine that I will lay out for you all in good time. But first you need to disrobe and lay yourself upon my lap with your ass in the air. This is only the beginning young lady, after I feel you have felt the anguish and pain I have received today internally, on your ass then I will allow you to get up where you will go prepare dinner, an apron is the only permissible clothes, you will eat your plate kneeling beside me on the floor and also as soon as I am finished you will be as well. Finally you will go and draw me a bath where you will wash me and then tend to my manly needs and then you will sleep tonight on the side of the bed, for you do not deserve to rest upon the bed tonight with me."

Trish sat there in amazement never once suspecting that her husband had this inside him. She found herself wet at once and thrilled at the prospect that he may take over as her master, that she would never again need to seek a dominant lover online or even go to one during a business trip in order to feel the sting of a hand on her ass or the intricate way she had been tied up and teased and tortured. She knew that her husband could find this deep down inside him though for he had always excelled at everything he did and this would more than likely prove to be no different. She figured that he could find the way rather quickly and be able to please them both. She knew he wouldn't be able to do this immediately but would learn along with her their needs and just what would please them both. 

Trish stood and began to slowly pull off her blouse, as she did she lowered her eyes and smiled at her husband beneath her lashes and continued to disrobe ever so teasingly. She reached behind her and tugged off the clasp on her bra and brought her hand around to her front and cupped her breasts before pulling the bra away completely. She watched his eyes lock onto her exposed orbs of flesh. She knew that her pert chest always turned him on and she loved to tease him but also thought that tonight might not be that time. She wanted to give him the chance to spank her that he really seemed into wanting tonight, she also really wanted to feel his big hand cupping her ass leaving hand prints as he spanked her roughly and punished her for being the slut that she had come to find herself being. She turned her back to him and reached behind her unzipping her skirt, she knew that he might have a little more ammunition for her spanking after the skirt would slip over her full hips but she also liked that idea. 

As the zipper came down on his wife's skirt Dave could see the crack of her sexy ass. The shock briefly left him and he realized that she was nude beneath the skirt, her naked ass and pussy ready for contact apparent as she bent over and he could see the full lips of her sex spread lightly and he could glimpse the pink folds of her inner lips. He reached out and grabbed her arm and pulled her over his lap.

"So I see you have been a nasty little slut today and not worn any panties, well young lady that just compounded your punishment by fifteen spanks. You are going to count each one and if you lose track we will have to start all over again. If you squirm even once I will start over again. If you do more than cry out when I swat you then we will start over again. I hope you are getting this you cheating, lying whore, this is all for your own benefit, for if I do it now then I doubt you will be making your same mistakes over again," Dave told her.

Trish felt her nude body laid firmly over her husbands lap and listened to his words, she had always wanted him to do this for many months now but hadn't been able to find her way to explain it to him. Now she wouldn't have to but she would be forced to endure the length of this punishment. She knew that she could bear the brunt of the spanking but she secretly hoped that he would push her past the safe limit and into a world she had only dreamed about. With each of the two men she had met she had safe words and could stop them at anytime, but tonight she wouldn't be having a safe word and she was afraid to even ask about one right now. She knew that the worst that was going to happen would be that her husband would spank and bruise her ass and while that did scare her it also nearly made her cum right then from the thought alone.

Trish bit her lip and prepared to receive the first of the spanks that she was going to get. Suddenly they began, softly at first, and progressively getting more intense and harder. Dave watched her ass redden as he spanked his beautiful wife's ass with as much restraint as he could muster. He started slowly and swatted her on first the left cheek, up high, then down right beneath the swell of her ass right at the top of the back of her thighs. Then he would deliver a harder blow to the middle of that cheek before starting on the other side. With the first six spanks he had her ass red all over from his big palm prints and he also had her waiting on more swats. He played with the different levels of force he used when spanking her, letting her expect another hard one only to deliver a soft playful tap. Then he would give a few soft ones right in one specific spot only to then swing his hand hard and on the opposite cheek. 

Trish found herself excited more than anytime prior when she had even been with the other two doms; her husband was proving to have a knack for spanking. Her ass was on fire, and much to her own disbelief she was loving it and anticipating each new blow and slightly disappointed when he would slow down and not spank her for a few seconds. The constant bombardment on her tight ass was sending pleasure through her body in way she had never been able to comprehend. Perhaps she thought because this was the way it should be with a man she completely trusted and loved, one that she would willingly become a submissive to with every fiber of her being. She knew that he would never go beyond her limits and she had not explored very far as of yet so that would and could be exciting and a true bonding experience for them both. Trish found herself raising her ass in anticipation of each blow and she heard him chuckle above her.

"Trish you nasty little slut you are enjoying this I think aren't you?" he asked as he slipped a finger in her now moist pussy. He hadn't thought that she would be this wet already and now he knew that she really did enjoy being spanked, that much he would love as the days went on for it was the one thing he truly loved to imagine when she had been gone and he had masturbated thinking about her, the act of spanking seemed so intimate and erotic that he had never failed to have an explosive orgasm during these times of self love. Dave waited for her answer as he slipped his thumb up between her tight cheeks and let it rest on her asshole, in time he would prepare her for penetration back there, they had only had anal sex twice in their seven years together and she hadn't exhibited any desire to go beyond that but now with this little bit of punishment it seemed as if anything might be possible. Dave left his thumb there and slipped his first two fingers inside her pussy and rubbed her inner walls with his right hand and teased her as he slipped his fourth finger down and began to rub her clit in circles as he swatted her with his left hand hard. "I asked a question Trish and I demand an answer."

"Yes," Trish breathlessly whispered from her subspace. 

"And what do you want me to do now young lady?" Dave asked playfully.

"You, touching me anyway you want Dave," she pleaded.

Dave gave her a hard swat on her ass, "You must be more specific my pet, I want to know what it is you truly desire."

"Mmm you to keep spanking me, or to fuck me as only you can, please just don't stop touching me."

Dave renewed his spanking and fingering of his beautiful wife; his cock was hard beneath her and threatening to explode at any moment. He was so aroused that they were both surprised he had not thrown her to the floor and fucked her yet. But his determination to make her wet, wanting and ready to find the beginning of her submissiveness to him before he would let her up tonight. "Who am I Trish?"

"I... I don't know how to answer that," she stuttered.

"Who am I to you right now slut?" he asked more forcefully as he continued swatting her ass cheeks hard flipping his hand around paddling her with slow deliberate motions making sure her whole ass was going to be red and inflamed as he continued to finger her along with the spanking he was delivering to her hot ass. He felt an intense pleasure over hearing her moan with each delivered blow and he knew from the wetness between her legs that she was enjoying it as well as being punished. 

"You are my...my master," she cooed, hoping the answer was what he sought; she had a small orgasm as she called him master because she had never called anyone master before. As if speaking it made her fully the submissive slut she had for so long searched to become with her husband now words had cemented it. She knew that there would be no turning back now for this is what she wanted, what she needed and what she had been hoping to have happen for so long, she had not thought that the turn of events that had transpired today would have been the thing that pushed him into such a dominant forceful role but it had and now she was going to find out what all her limits were.

"Good girl," Dave growled as he continued to assault her ass with his big palm. He wanted to create an orgasm that would leave her without words, which would be so intense that she would never forget this day. He began to wiggle his fingers inside her tight pussy and found the spongy little g-spot area right at the front wall of her snatch. He rubbed it along with her clit and slapped her ass hard and fast as he began to press the tip of his cock in her tight opening from below. He didn't want actual penetration, he just wanted to leave the tip in to add to the pleasure she was receiving. He also knew that he was adding to his own pleasure by slipping his cock head into her. It was so tight and with each spank he could feel her clenching around him. 

"Master please, fuck me, use me do something just don't tease me anymore." Trish begged.

Hearing his newly submissive wife had him ready to throw her down and rape her right then, but he had a few more minutes of this erotic torture in store before he would let her feel his full length plunging inside her. He raised his hand right above her ass and lowered it slowly rubbing each cheek feeling the heat omitting from it before he swatted her hard again. Her ass rose as he hit it and she moaned letting him know how much pleasure he was giving her. Dave was more than a little pleased by the way this was turning out. It seemed that she was indeed going to be very easy to train as he wanted and if this spanking was any indication of what the future held he was going to be spending a lot more time at home with her. No more trips out on the weekend or during the week for a while. He was going to devote them both to intense physical and mental workouts to get her submissive and waiting for everything he wanted her to become.




Truth and Consequences



"Now I think you are ready slut but first I want you to go down on your knees and suck my hard cock in between those pretty lips of yours and show me how sorry for your acts of indiscretion you are and how happy that I am going to assert myself as your master you will be."

Trish smiled up at her husband as she slid off his lap, his cock head slipping from inside her leaving her completely empty, no fingers or anything left for her to rub against. She would ignore that itch deep inside her for the time being and try to desperately to please him in hopes that he would soon take her and fuck her hard. She grasp his cock in her hand lightly and began to stroke it up and down, rubbing her own moisture up and down on his tool and leaving his cock with the mixture of her juice and his precum wet and looking enticing. She lowered her lips to the tip of his shaft and began to run her tongue over the head in slow circles, her hands, one stroking him and the other rubbing his cum filled balls as she licked his shaft now. Up and down over his shaft she went, pausing to suck on the shaft and tug gently at the flesh there. She couldn't wait to feel him in her watering mouth now and she had to feel it, needed to feel it, couldn't wait to taste it. 

Dave watched his wife tease his cock and rub his balls as she looked up at him, he could see the unbridled lust in her eyes and knew that she was as horny as he could ever remember her being before. He wanted to just grab her head and stuff his cock into her mouth and feel her swallow his tool and it was then that he realized that she had taken over a more submissive role now and she had always like that before, when on rare occasions he had forcefully pushed her head down and made her suck his cock like a brazen little whore. She had often told him that it made her wet and wild with her own need to please him and drive him wild. He grabbed her ponytail and forced her down on his cock, she moaned as she took it in and he began to thrust his hips toward her mouth, he could feel her tongue dancing over his inches as she bobbed her head with his movements. He wanted her to take it all and in a few seconds she would, of her own volition. She began to stroke him faster with her hand bringing it up as she would bring her lips up from her his cock and back down as her hand slid down to the base.

"God Trish I love how you suck my cock, you sweet little cocksucker of mine," Dave told her in grunts and groans, "I think this will become a new staple around her, I think you will daily get a spanking and be forced to blow me until I have determined you are really sorry for your online and physical actions."

Trish looked up at Dave smiling pulling her mouth away from his cock for a moment, "Oh yes sir, this little one would love that," she cooed.

Dave felt his cock give a jump at her words; she was really becoming intent on pleasing him orally and giving herself into becoming his little submissive toy. This would be something that they would submerse themselves into gaining knowledge and pleasures as well as finding a way to keep her close in check from now on.

Trish gave a little giggle, she was ecstatic over the fact that her husband had found a way to drive her over the edge of her normal horny self and she was now going to walking around wet all the time at home, more than likely at work to if she would give any thought to what he had done, was doing and would be doing to her today. She lowered her head to his cock again and began to suck his cock wildly, shoving all of his cock into her mouth and swallowing and sucking as well as she could. It wouldn't take her long to get her husband and master now to cum in her mouth, although she rarely did that and actually found it rather disgusting normally gagging on his cum she wanted to today, surprisingly she found herself needing to get over that hump and there was no time like the present to do so. She knew he wouldn't expect that today and she shoved all of his cock in her mouth as she decided to try something she hadn't before. She took one finger and ran it below his testicles and began to rub the area between his balls and anus, slowly she pressed feeling him spurt just a little in her mouth. Good she thought she was going to find a new way to get him off quicker when she needed, hesitantly she pressed her finger back further and began to press her finger against his asshole, she felt him tense up and as she redoubled her efforts on his cock he gave just a moment to relax and then he slipped her finger into his asshole and pushed in a bit until he gasped and came. 

Trish swallowed the first of his cum deep into her mouth and down her throat and then began to try and swallow the rest as her mouth filled and overflowed with his cum. She didn't allow herself a moment to think about it and swallowed again. Pulling away she continued to pump his cock and watched amazed as he came over her large tits and the cum dribbled down over her nipples, she smiled up at him as she took the tip of his penis in her mouth again and sucked him until there were no drips left in his cock, then she continued sucking until he remained hard and she pulled away and pressed her face to the floor and put her ass in the air.

"Trish as good and inviting as that looks I still can't get down there right now with this damn knee. But you can come up here and straddle me in this chair and ride me little a little naughty wench."

Trish smiled as she got up, doggiestyle may be her favorite position but being on top of him riding his cock was a close second. She spread her legs and lowered herself over his tool; grasping the base in her hand she felt the tip of his cock slide into her. She paused just a bit and then dropped her hips all the way down letting him sink inside her rapidly. She felt the cheeks of her ass hit his thighs and new that he was in as far as she could get him in this position. Trish hadn't realized before today just how enormous her husband's cock truly was. He had to be at least seven and a half to nine inches, she had always been a poor judge of size that way but he had always been enough to turn her on and make her cum so the thought hadn't really occurred to her to try to judge his size. Now as she rode him though she felt the tip pressing deep up inside her and she shook violently as she began to cum. His hands went around to her backside and he rubbed her sore ass with his big hands and squeezed them. The swollen globes of her ass were still hot and tender and his rough touch as he squeezed shook her deep inside and made her orgasm even more intense. 

Trish after several more orgasms felt Dave swell and pump his load inside her. She couldn't pull off as usual so he wouldn't impregnate her because he held her down by her hips and thrust his cock deep inside as he spurted. 

"Oh fuck yes Trish, your tight little pussy feels so good wrapped around me as I cummm," he groaned.

Trish squealed as her own orgasm finished ripping through her body and as she leaned into her husband she smiled at him knowing that they had just began a new path together. 

Thanks for reading feedback is welcomed to see what direction this story may go in. Please remember to vote as well. MV



Truth AND Consequences



 [Note 1: The man in this story -- Stewart -- was inspired by a dear friend. I thought it would be disrespectful to make the character too much like my friend, however, so I've intentionally made Stewart deviate somewhat from my friend's true personality. Anyone who should happen to know both of us should not assume that anything Stewart says, does, thinks, or feels applies in any way to his real-life counterpart.]

[Note 2: My characters always do more talking than fucking, so if you need a higher action-to-word ratio, feel free to move on. :-)]

Part One: Joining

I'm a switch. I like pain/sensation play, as either a top or a bottom, and I like dominance. What I love best as a domme is opening people up emotionally -- pushing them to reveal more and more of themselves, to dig so deeply that they're discovering the things they show me right in that moment. I love knowing friends and lovers more deeply and thoroughly than they've ever been known before. I also like to play with the combination of fear and arousal -- having someone be simultaneously terrified and so aroused they can barely stand it is incredibly hot.

Though I've played with dominance, I haven't done much in the way of submission, because I grew up with very authoritarian parents who dominated me so completely that I had essentially no thoughts, feelings, or personality of my own while I was a child. Didn't want to sign up for THAT again! But somewhere in my heart of hearts, I knew that I needed to go there, to conquer my fear of giving up any of my hard-won independence. Being unable to bend even a little was getting in my way. Yet even just thinking that scared me.

My life changed when I met Stewart, a dominant who had some of the same tastes as I. He also liked to push people to do things that scared them, though unlike me, he didn't "do" pain. He told me this many times. He told me this so many times that I pointed out that he was protesting a little much for someone who actually had no interest. He confessed that he had played with pain in the past and didn't like how much he enjoyed it and wasn't planning to go there again. My eyes lit up -- ah, a thing he was afraid of yet drawn to -- something he was conflicted about, something that was inside him that he had trouble facing. Fertile ground!

As we were getting to know each other, I mentioned my childhood history and my fear of ever being submissive, along with my tentative notion that it might actually be good for me to go there. I said that if I ever wanted to explore submission, I'd want to explore it with someone considerably stronger than I, so that if being dominated turned me into Rage Woman, my dom could keep me from hurting him. His eyes lit up -- ah, a thing I was afraid of yet drawn to -- something I was conflicted about, something inside me that I had trouble facing. Fertile ground! He mentioned that he was 6' 3" and an avid cyclist, and thus strong enough to contain me. Um, this is all theoretical, right? I mean, we're just talking because we like to talk with each other, right?

So here we are -- I want to seduce him into facing his interest in pain in spite of his fear of what that will mean about who he is. (Who he is, is a fabulous man -- intelligent, thoughtful, humane -- accepting his sadistic streak will not change that. But at this point, only I believe that.) He wants to order/coerce/force me into facing my fear of submission; the fact that it scares me and fascinates me at the same time is a big turn-on for him.

So, we negotiate. We live far apart, so we can get together rarely, which means that we must make the most of any time we have together. It also means that our relationship will grow rapidly, in rather a hothouse environment, on those occasions when we get together, while moving along rather lazily while we're apart. We agree that I will fly to where he is, and for the week that I am there, I will be his. Within a few agreed-upon limits (no verbal abuse, no breath control, no forced ingestion of anything I wouldn't willingly consume, no playing with bodily excretions), I am his to do with as he wishes, with one requirement: he must hurt me. He must hurt me enough that he is seriously scared, that he is facing the thing that he doesn't want to accept in himself. He must push himself as hard as he wants to push me.

The thing is, I'm a mild to moderate masochist. I like some pain with my sex or even just some pain all by itself, but not a LOT. And I am asking him to give me a lot, not because I'm enough of a masochist to need it, but because I'm enough of a domme to want to force him to go there. I did mention that I was a switch, didn't I? But how the heck did I end up arranging to top somebody by being hurt a lot? Isn't that usually the bottom's job? :-) 

Officially, he is my dom, and indeed, he will be doing all of any explicit dominating that is done. But he will also be facing his fear, at my insistence. He will be in charge of when and how -- he's the dom for the week -- but he is also ever-so-slightly my submissive. I tend to like complicated people and complicated situations. 

Did I mention that we've never met face to face? Ah, an important detail, yes. We met online, though not on a BDSM site, or through personals. No, we met through a gaming site. If we'd met through personals, we would at least have remembered to specify an interest in someone who lived on the same continent, after all. We've exchanged an enormous quantity of e-mail -- I feel that I know him, I trust him, and I've become very fond of him. But never having actually laid eyes on him will add considerably to the trepidation with which I give myself to him. I wonder if he'll be scared, too? Probably, he's a sensitive soul; that's one of the reasons why I like him so much. Still, it has to be a lot scarier to give control to someone you've never actually met than to take control from someone you've never actually met.

All of that is dry and dispassionate, isn't it? Almost a psychological analysis. And that's because the pilot has just announced that we're beginning our descent into Glasgow. These are my last few minutes of being in charge of my own self until I board the plane again a week from now, and I need to hang on to my ability to analyze and be dispassionate. Throwing up would be bad, and screaming would be worse. I can fall apart in private if I have to -- Stewart might even enjoy it if I were truly that scared -- but airline personnel are touchy these days, and screaming on the plane would be a really bad idea. Breathe. Breathe. Go analyze something; you're good at that.

I get off of the plane, worried that he'll be turned off by my appearance, even though I've warned him that I'm fat. *I* know that I'm sexy, but the rest of the world does not always agree. He's assured me that the most important sexual organ is the one between your ears, and I know that he's right -- what's between HIS ears has made me fly 3000 miles, after all -- but I'm more than a little fat, and I hope that actually seeing me won't make him reconsider. Sure, Kate, that's a good idea -- worry about your body; then you might not have to spend so much time worrying about what's happening in your head.

Just then I catch sight of a group of people holding signs with the names of the people they are there to meet. Usually these signs are carried by limousine drivers or potential employers meeting job candidates; friends meeting in airports generally don't need signs to identify one another. God, the Internet has changed everything, hasn't it?

Suddenly I spy my name. I'm nervous about lifting my eyes from the sign to the face of the man holding it, and I realize that although I now know it's him, he doesn't yet know it's me, and I can study him a bit before he realizes that I'm heading towards him. He's tall and painfully thin, with longish fuzzy hair and a beard, and there's something arresting about his face, for all that it's a perfectly ordinary face. So this is Stewart. I'm half in love with him, and I've only just now laid eyes on him for the first time. Life can be strange.

I run up to him and hug him, burying my head against his chest so that if there's disappointment in his eyes at the sight of me, I won't have to see it. After hugging for a minute or two, though, he holds me at arm's length: "Let me look at you." I look at his face, trying to memorize the look of the person I know so well yet have never seen.

"You don't LOOK dangerous," he says.

I'm flabbergasted. "Dangerous? Me?"

He smiles. "You have no idea, do you? Mike said you didn't, but I didn't believe him."

"Mike's word is good," I reply automatically, "But I still don't know what you're talking about."

"You like to shake people up, ever so nicely, for their own good, just by being yourself, until their entire world turns upside down."

"Oh, Mike says stuff like that, but you have to discount for his being a Southern Gentleman -- hyperbole is their native tongue."

We laugh together, and I reflect that this is the first time that we have laughed together. It feels strange to know so much about someone yet not know what their laugh sounds like or how their face looks when they're thinking.

We go to his flat, still a bit awkward with each other, yet excited to be together, too. We talk all the way there, mostly about the computer game that brought us together, the forum devoted to that game, and the people in it. I ask for his thoughts on a topic that came up recently on the forum, and as always, he puts forth a thoughtful, interesting, and erudite discussion of the most important issues. Half of me admires his mind yet again while half of me wonders if I'm worthy of him. I'm no dummy, myself, and I've been called thoughtful and interesting more than once, but I can't pass for erudite on the best day I ever had. I'm not used to feeling outclassed intellectually, and the feeling is not at all a welcome one; then I reflect wryly that it may well be very useful in achieving the mindset we're out to evoke.

We eat lunch at his flat, and I'm touched that he's made vegetarian food for me, even though he thinks that my reasons for being vegetarian are invalid. He's warned me that our relationship is just friendship, with nothing romantic involved, and I've agreed to that. I reflect that a friendship good enough to stock up on vegetarian food for my visit is plenty good enough; kindness and consideration trump roses and poetry any day. 

After lunch, he turns to me and says, "I thought we could spend our first few hours together putting the face and the voice together with the person we know." I nod vigorously, and he smiles. "I thought we could have more of our patented long-winded discussions about every subject under the sun, and I thought we could have vanilla sex, to get acquainted with each other's physical selves in a somewhat lower-pressure environment than a BDSM scene." 

"Sex?" I'm surprised, since the last I'd heard, sex between us was off limits. "I thought you said you wanted to keep this relationship strictly platonic, out of deference to your girlfriend."

"Ah, yes, I should have mentioned that. My girlfriend gave me carte blanche with respect to you. She doesn't want me to have any other Scots women, but she doesn't feel threatened by an American I can only see a few times a year, and she thought that if I did the more, er, extreme things with you, then I wouldn't demand them of her."

"'Extreme.' I feel like I should deny that or something, but you know, I think maybe we're extreme people, you and I."

"We've been in the tails of the distribution all of our lives; it's home now, isn't it?"

I laugh. "Yes. Home. Okay." 

"As I was saying, I thought we could have more of our patented long-winded discussions about every subject under the sun, then I thought we could have vanilla sex, to get acquainted with each other's physical selves in a somewhat lower-pressure environment than a BDSM scene." 

Again, I agree, though I'm amused at the idea that sex between people who've never met before is the easy part. Sometimes BDSM makes the rest of life seem as if it's seen in a distorting mirror.

We talk and talk, and although we're still slightly awkward with each other, I can never get enough of this man's mind, and soon eagerness to hear his thoughts and to share mine with him overcomes the lingering strangeness of our situation. 

Now that we're comfortable, of course it's time to get awkward again. :-) As Stewart begins yet another topic, I lean forward and cover his mouth with my own. Though he's caught by surprise, it doesn't take long for him to get with the program, and soon he's kissing me back as passionately as I could want. I really, really, really, REALLY like to kiss, to the extent that I have to be careful who I do it with, because my brain tends to fall out onto the floor and roll under the sofa. Stewart seems less carried away than I am but still very into the process, and he seems fascinated by all the moaning and shuddering I'm doing. "You told me that you lost your mind when kissed properly, but I didn't realize quite how literally you meant it."

People never seem to realize that I almost always tell the truth. If what I say sounds weird, well then, weird things have happened, that's all.

I nuzzle against Stewart's neck and ask if I can bite him, and he says, "No, I don't like being bitten, but I hear that you do," and he proceeds to bite me in exactly the right way. Most people don't bite very well -- they don't know that you want to be biting muscle, not skin, and a fairly large chunk of muscle, at that. They don't realize that a sucking bite is usually more pleasurable than just a bite. They don't realize that the juncture between neck and shoulder has a lovely little bundle of nerves that are very nice when stimulated; they don't realize that starting lightly then building up works just as well for biting as it does for other sorts of activities. Stewart, who seems to know everything about everything, also knows these things, and before my brain trips out completely, I make a mental note to thank whichever ex-girlfriend taught him to bite so well.

When he pauses for breath, I decide that I need to give as good as I've gotten, before my brain shuts off again. I unbutton his shirt and begin licking his nipples, licking circles around his tiny areolas and flicking the even tinier nipple back and forth. Some men don't like having their nipples played with, but most do, a much larger percentage than most people believe. Stewart doesn't disappoint me, making purring sounds while I play with his nipples, so I begin sucking his nipple, gently at first, then harder, while rolling the other nipple between my fingers. I suck his nipple fairly hard while flicking it with my tongue, and he suddenly starts to laugh.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I just suddenly remembered that one of the first things you ever sent me was a story you'd written about going down on a woman and how much you liked it. You're treating my nipple like a clit, aren't you?"

I laugh. "It's not MY fault you're clit-challenged, and I have to make do with what's available."

He tackles me suddenly, pushing me down on the sofa, slipping his hands under my shirt, and grasping a nipple between each thumb and forefinger. I gasp at the sudden switch from laughing to serious and from him to me, then gasp again as he rolls my nipples between his fingers. I reach out to grasp his, and he bats my hands away, then grabs a hank of hair at the back of my head, wraps it around his hand, and uses it to lift my head towards him.

He stares fiercely into my eyes and says, "I'm in charge now. If I want you to play with something, I'll tell you to or guide you to it. You will do your best with anything I give you, but you will neither begin nor end an activity -- I'll decide what we do and when we start and stop."

I'm astonished by the sudden change but also very turned on by it, far more than I'd expected. I'm not a submissive, right? I don't do that. I'm scared of it. I don't just melt when somebody stares at me and pulls my hair. Right? I don't just do what I'm told. Right?

Maybe I don't with anybody else, but I do with Stewart. Maybe it's because I honestly do admire this man. Maybe it's because he's so very far from the usual arrogant jerk who tries to be a dom. Maybe it's just because he's him. Whatever it is, I seem to have fewer bones than I used to have, and I want to give him whatever he wants.

He starts taking my clothes off, and as he removes my underwear, he notices how wet I am. He says, "You did say once that you could do foreplay all day, or it could be 'two kisses, then let's fuck,' and I didn't quite believe you. Though now that I've seen how you react to kisses, two seems like a perfectly reasonable number for getting you ready." He smiles down at me, and I squirm a bit, feeling embarrassed. He notices and says, "Oh, that was a compliment, by the way." I smile at him and wish that I might be allowed to take his clothes off but make no move to do so.

He removes them himself, but at least I get to watch, and when he sees me watching, he says wryly, "I hope you like bones." 

"Are you kidding? When I met my husband, he was 6' 4" and so skinny that he looked like he'd just gotten out of a concentration camp. I seem to have a thing for guys who are all brains and bones. Besides" -- it was time for me to have my own moment of insecurity -- "I have enough padding for both of us."

He looks at me and smiles. "It's clear that I won't hurt myself on you, though I might hurt you. But then, you signed up for that, didn't you?" I smile at him and open my arms, then look slightly guilty, wondering if that's against the rules. "Hinting is okay," he says, "you just can't get grabby."

He grabs my hair again and uses it to raise my mouth to his. He kisses me while also pulling my hair and growling slightly into my mouth, and I go back into thoroughly melted mode.

"Bring your legs up and hold them," he says, and I comply. "There are other positions that I generally like better than missionary, but for our first time, I want us to see each other's faces." I agree and gaze at him, letting some of what's in my heart come out of my eyes, letting him see the admiration, the fondness, and also the lust. It's a combination that most men like to have directed at them, and since I can't act for shit, it's lucky that that's how I feel about this particular man.

He kneels above me, then gently eases himself into me. I gasp "Yes" as I feel him enter me, and we stay still for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of being joined, after such a long time of being thousands of miles apart.

"I've waited a long time for this, and I'm not in the mood to be gentle. Can you take hard and fast?" he asks. 

"Hard and fast is what I'd ask for at the moment, if I were given a choice," I say, and that's all it takes. He grabs my hair again as he starts to pound himself into me. I try to thrust myself up to meet him but he growls at me to lie still and be fucked, and I comply. The combination of his eyes on mine, his hand in my hair, the wonderfully hard fucking, and the simple fact of being together at last are so overwhelming that I'm afraid I might start crying, even though sad is the last thing I am. I don't want to freak him out, though, so I manage to suppress it and concentrate less on the emotional and more on the physical.

And the physical is very good, indeed. A lot of women seem to need clit stimulation to come, but I, well, I really like being fucked, and a man who's in the mood to do it as hard as he can will generally send me over the top in a very short time. I haven't asked him how thin his walls are or how nosy his neighbors are, and this is a serious oversight, because I can't be anything close to quiet, and I'm moaning and screaming in time with the sound of flesh slapping on flesh. We're both too excited to do this for very long, but we're both too excited to need very long, and soon I'm convulsing and making a noise rather like a dog barking, and shortly thereafter, he is making that peculiar strangled scream that so many men make when they come.




Truth AND Consequences



He lies on top of me, and I wrap my arms around him and hug him tightly, both of us wordless for a change.

Part Two: Facing it

"I invited you here partly because you've played with my head, fired up my imagination, seduced me into thinking about things I wasn't sure I wanted to face," he says.

I smile at him apologetically. "That IS one of the perils of being close friends with a psychologist; we do tend to think that rooting around in our friends' heads is a fine and interesting pastime"

"Well, I hope you'll think the result is a fine and interesting pastime"

"What do you mean?"

"You sent me a long e-mail about your childhood, which concluded with the idea that there was something you feared desperately that you thought you needed to face. Do you remember what that was?"

I look down, embarrassed. I have trouble, not just with the concept, but also with the word itself. I've been a feminist for too long to be comfortable with that word, and only the knowledge that Stewart is a vociferous defender of the equal worth of women makes it possible for me to contemplate not just the word but the act. "Giving up power or being controlled by another," I answer him. "Submission, I guess you could say."

"I certainly do say. Yes. Giving up any power at all is hard for you, and giving it all up terrifies you out of your mind. You knew that encouraging, ordering, or forcing people to do things that they're afraid of is an incredible rush for me, but you told me all of this, anyway."

I nod.

"You thought perhaps that a little detail like 3000 miles between us would keep you safe?"

"I thought it would but hoped it wouldn't."

"Ah." The sweet, mild-mannered man suddenly takes on a tougher, even slightly feral, edge. "That sounds like consent to me."

I look at the floor and am silent for a few moments, knowing that he is right and trying to gather my courage, then I raise my head, look him directly in the eyes and nod once.

"You also told me that there was a circumstance under which you sometimes spontaneously went into a submissive frame of mind -- do you remember what that was?"

"When somebody I love and trust asks me to take more pain than I can enjoy as a masochist, sometimes I spontaneously flip from masochist into submissive."

"Love?" He looks disdainful at the mere thought of this emotion -- the look of a man who's been burned too many times.

"Er, am fond of."

"Fond is okay."

He catches my eyes with his and looks into them as if he could see through them to the mind behind them. "And do you remember what you thought *I* needed to face?"

I shudder slightly, knowing what's coming. "You kept telling me that you were a dominant and weren't into inflicting pain, but the way you said it made me think you were afraid of it, which is different from not liking it. In fact, I thought maybe what you were afraid of was how much you liked it."

He smiles. "Partly right. I knew that I occasionally really got into inflicting pain but usually did not, and I thought I wasn't really into it but just enjoyed turning people on. Then you talked about taking pain that was beyond what you enjoy, specifically to show your submission, and I realized *that* was the missing variable. When I'm feeding someone's masochism, inflicting pain isn't that much fun, but when I'm inflicting it to force them to submit or to push them or as a test of their submission, those are the conditions under which I like it so much that it scares me."

I grin at him, wanting to shake him up a bit, given how much the entire week would shake me up. "So I can top you into facing YOUR fear by subbing to you while you hurt me?"

"I wasn't thinking of it in those terms, but I suppose you could if you wanted to. Though since I'm proposing to be the one in charge and I'm proposing that you do any screaming involved, it does seem as if I'll be topping you rather more than you'll be topping me."

I smile. "Just as long as you have to face a fear, too."

"Ah, yes. And isn't it clever of you to manipulate me into facing a fear that involves your being in serious pain?"

I feel momentarily sheepish. "Um, no, actually. When you put it like that, it sounds rather stupid."

"No, I should say rather that you've painted yourself into a corner. Too much enthusiasm for your little hobby of rummaging around in people's heads to see what you might find *will* have its consequences."

"Um, I can't tell if you're mad at me or if you're just teasing."

"Since I prefer to have you slightly off balance, that's intentional."

I look at him thoughtfully. "You always have to win, don't you?"

"I can be a good team player when I need to be, but yes, whenever possible, I prefer to be alpha. I thought I'd hidden that well, though."

I smile, suddenly more at ease. "This is me. You can be in charge, you can make me yours, you can hurt me until your sadism is satiated, but you can't hide from me."

I get a quick flash of Stewart's evil grin. "I think I'll hold you to that."

"Um, so I guess we should talk, about when and where and what we're planning to do and what's off limits, and all that."

"We've already done that, Kate. I know talking is the long suit for both of us, but sometimes you have to let the words go and just have fun."

"Fun." That sounded sort of strange, in the context of facing fears and dealing in pain. "Are we going to have fun?"

He looks at me seriously for a moment and says, "Kate, stripping off layers and getting close is the kind of fun you live for."

That startled me. "You know me too well."

"This head-rummaging isn't a one-way street, you know." He leads me to a chair, and we both sit down. "Now, I believe you were going to tell me what sorts of things are off limits."

"Ah." I frown. These are hard things to say, even though I'd been thinking of them for most the plane trip across the Atlantic. Stalling for time, I say, "Are you thinking of this as being just a brief pain scene, or were you planning to do other stuff, too?"

"I thought we would start with a pain scene, though I'm hoping it won't be all that brief."

I feel the sudden need to take a deep breath. Because our communication has been only through e-mail, Stewart had always seemed both more real and less real than my other friends, and I suddenly realize that I'd signed up for this week with him without quite believing that he was real enough for it to happen. But he's sitting right next to me -- I can see him and touch him. Hell, after what we'd been doing a short time before, I can *smell* him.

"I do want us to explore submission in considerably more detail, though, and if all goes well tonight, I want us to do a number of different things in the days ahead." He looks me over. "You're looking a bit shell-shocked at the moment, so we can talk just about the upcoming scene."

I take his hand, still a bit surprised that I can actually touch him, then close my eyes, thinking that it might be easier to say these things if I'm not looking at him. I'd managed to say all manner of things in e-mail, after all, enough things that he seemed to think that I was braver than I actually am. It's an opinion of me that I'd like to live up to. 

"If this is a scene where both of us face something, then I want you to only inflict the kinds of pain that require direct participation from you. That means that electrical toys are out, because you just turn 'em on, so you can kind of hide from what they're doing. And clips and clamps are out, for the same reason. I guess I want to limit things to impact play -- you can hit me with any part of your body or with toys that directly transfer muscle power, something where it's clear that it's YOU doing it."

He nods. "Agreed."

"No marks on the face. Short-term marks -- ones that last two weeks or less -- are okay anywhere else. Long-term marks should be limited to the upper back, at least for right now. It's okay if you draw blood -- the Red Cross will let any healthy person donate a pint, so anything under that is fine." I knew blood squicked him, so I glance quickly at his face, to see how he's taking this. He's looking at me, and my sense of humor kicks in, and I find myself wanting to take most of the seriousness out of the proceedings, which seem in danger of becoming too solemn, so I stick my tongue out at him.

He shakes his head and squeezes my hand. "Oh, you *do* know how to live dangerously," he says teasingly.

I smile. This is my friend -- my very dear friend -- and I need to remember that. "Of course no permanent loss of function, and as for temporary loss, I should be able to climb the stairs from the basement to the living room after half an hour or so of aftercare."

He nods again. "Agreed," he repeated. "How about emotional context?"

"I'm not completely sure what you mean?"

"We've said that tonight's scene is the prelude to several days of D/S interactions between us. Are you going to be laying your submission at my feet like a present, and tonight's scene will be my initial acceptance of that present, or do you want to be forced into submission, and tonight's scene constitutes the forcing?"

"Oh, my." I feel lost for a moment, and he looks at me as if he finally realizes that I wasn't kidding even a little bit about being scared by the very idea of submission, for all that I think I need it. I look down, thinking hard, then look back at him. "If I tried to lay my submission at your feet like a present, I think I could do that for a little while, because I like you so much, but at some level, I'd be pretending."

"So if this is to have a real effect on you, you'll need to be forced."

My eyes tear up, and I felt both scared and ashamed. "Yes."

"What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"You don't just look scared, though you look well and truly scared; you also look embarrassed, or maybe ashamed."

I nod, then whisper, and he has to lean closer to hear. "When I agreed that I'll need to be forced, I realized just how much I'm asking of you."

"I hadn't thought of that aspect of playing with a switch -- you know how hard it is to do what I must do, not just how hard it is to do what you must do."

I nod again.

"But don't forget -- I'm not you. I'm more comfortable with my dominance than you are with yours, and I *like* forcing people."

I give him a smile that feels a little wavery around the edges. "It's that horrified fascination you have with rape."

He looks momentarily startled, then regroups. "Just so."

"So, my safeword is 'I submit'?"

He shakes his head. "It would be all too easy for you to say that without meaning it. Your safeword is TO submit."

"But what happens if I can't? Or if I do submit but you don't pick up on it?"

"I think that properly stimulated, you'll have no choice but to submit, and I think it won't be as hard to achieve as you seem to believe. I saw the way you were looking at me while we were having our 'vanilla' sex, and I think that you can and will go there, at least with me."

Well, so much for worrying that he wouldn't pick up on it if it occurred. But the idea that he *had* made me embarrassed, as if I'd been caught doing something shameful. No conflicts here, oh, no.

He looks at me and holds out a hand, as if offering to lead me onto the dance floor. "Shall we?" He leads me to the music room, which he'd told me has been soundproofed so that he can play the piano whenever he wishes. We won't have to worry about noise. I still feel nervous, embarrassed, and conflicted and finally realize what I need. "Will you just hold me for a minute, before we get started?"

"Of course." He holds me, surprisingly tenderly, and says in a sweet, soft voice, "Katie, hon, we're doing this because we both want to, and we're doing it partly to get closer to each other. I wouldn't have bothered to invite you to come all this way if you didn't matter to me, and you wouldn't be doing something with me that you've done with no one else if you didn't trust me and care for me. I'll remind you that we're *both* facing fears tonight and that tonight is the culmination of a hell of a lot of talking and sharing."

I hug him tightly, whisper "Thank you," then draw away. I look up at him and put on a somewhat formal tone of voice. "I am your bottom tonight, until you make me your submissive. I want to be yours, I want to please you, and I want you to use me in whatever way gives you pleasure. Stewart, I hereby formally and explicitly consent for you to make me yours."

He blinks, a bit startled by the sudden change.

I abandon the formal tone and speak more normally. "I don't want to be able to pretend later that you misunderstood me, so I thought I'd make a formal declaration. So, where would you like me? I warn you that I have a tendency to fall over if I bottom while standing, so it's usually better to have me sitting or lying down."

He gestures towards the piano bench. "Sit straddling the bench in the middle."

I do so, and he walks up to me, forming a fist. "Fists looks scary, but they're thuddier than open hands, so most people actually find them easier to take."

"Yep, I know." I look at him and realize that he's now the one who's using words to stall, so I say, "Hit me."

Stewart moves behind me, and I feel the first blow land on my upper back. It's hard enough to force me to exhale a bit but not hard enough to feel like more than a hard massage, and I settle myself, grateful for the fact that doms who are nervous about their own sadism are scrupulous about warm-up.

Stewart hits all of my back, from just below my neck to just above my kidneys, except for my spine, with the same level of intensity. His blows are rhythmic, and I reflect that although he may say that he has been conflicted about inflicting pain in the past, he must have done a considerable amount of it, to know exactly where and how to hit.

He does a second pass over my back, covering it completely except again for the spine and kidneys, this time hitting hard enough that it hurts a little bit, enough that one would tell a massage therapist to ease up. I relax into the gentle pain, feeling secure in his skill and enjoying the mild buzz that the mild pain brings.

A third pass over my back, harder again, this time hard enough that I make noise when he hits me. I'm certainly not screaming, but I'm not purring, either, and I know that my noises will let Stewart know that he is hurting me, though not that much yet. I lean forward slightly and brace my hands against the piano bench, knowing that I'll need some support to keep from being knocked over by the next pass.

Stewart punches my upper back, much harder than he has before, and I realize that warm-up is over. He's making another pass over my back, and although the blows are still rhythmic, they're no longer at the same intensity for my entire back -- each blow is harder than the last. His next blow makes me scream, and it feels as if he's not aiming for my back but for the piano bench below me, and my back just happens to be in the way. 

He's still going slowly enough that I have time to recover from one blow before the next one lands, and if the last one felt as if he were aiming for the piano bench, this one feels as if he were aiming for the floor, and I feel myself dissolving on the tide of pain. I'm no longer thinking, no longer probing my own fears or analyzing Stewart's technique or psyche. I don't wonder about the quality of the soundproofing or wonder when Stewart will stop. I am a screaming body, and that's all I am.

As Stewart continues to beat me with his fists, my screams become the full-throated, all-out, nothing-held-back screams of the primal human. The civilized veneer falls away, and screaming is what I do, who I am, my entire world.

I sit braced against the piano bench, taking blows and screaming, for a time that could have been five minutes or fifty, then Stewart reminds me that we're not just about pain, here. He leans over and whispers in my ear, "You scream beautifully. I love those all-out screams of yours. I love them -- do you hear me -- what do you think of that?"

I'm snapped back into my mind, and I realize that it's time for me to give Stewart some reassurance. "I'm glad that you love them; it would have been an awful shame for me to be screaming like that for no reason."

Stewart doesn't quite believe me and decides to push. "You're glad I love them. So if I say that I want to beat you for half an hour and have you scream that way the whole time, what would you say?"

I am not quite all there; part of me is drifting, and the part that is there says gently, even lazily, in a voice that sounds rather drunk, "If it gives you pleasure to beat me, then please, Stewart, I beg you to beat me."

Stewart's face changes, as if this answer angers him, and some distant part of me vaguely senses that this is because I'm not letting him off the hook. When he speaks again, his voice is hard, "And for how long should I beat you?"

My not-quite-there mind thinks that the answer to this is obvious and says, in a drunken voice that would be cheerful if it had any energy to it, "Why, until you've had as much as you want, of course."

Stewart comes around to my front, and his face would be interesting if the analytical part of me were there to take it in. He looks as if he himself is in serious pain, yet half of the pain seems to be from an arousal so strong that it looks like a severe strain on the system and half from a conflict so great that it seems as if it will tear him in half.

Even while out of it, I can tell that he's not in a good state, and I am surprised to hear my drunk-sounding voice say, "Give me your conscience; I'll keep it safe for you while we play. You don't need it right now." I have no idea how or why I said that, but it felt like the right thing to say at the time, and Stewart relaxes somewhat.

He stands on my left side and slides a hand under my left breast, then makes a fist with the other hand and hits it, hard. No one has ever done this to me before, and I am surprised at how much more it hurts to be hit on the breast than on the back. I scream, feeling both pain and fear, and he waits for the scream to die down, then hits me again, even harder than before. This time he doesn't wait for my scream to stop before hitting me again, and while his blows are still rhythmic, it's a much faster rhythm than before. He's piling pain on top of pain, and as my breast becomes ever more bruised and tender, his blows hurt more and more. I'm scared that I can't stand it and feel frantic and out of control.

I start begging him to stop, and he looks triumphant. "So, you don't want me to beat you until I've had as much as I want, do you?" He grabs my hair and turns my face up to his. "DO you?" 

Everything we've ever said to each other seems to hang in the balance as I try to think and feel through the disorientation that comes from the pain. Finally I find the answer that seems right and say, "You're forcing me into submission, Stewart; that means you have to hurt me until I DO mean it."

A complicated series of expressions flits across his face so quickly that I have trouble seeing them, and finally he settles on one -- surprisingly enough, it's surprise. "We're playing chicken, aren't we? We're seeing who'll break first." He lets go of my hair.

I shake my head. "We've already decided that I'm the one who's supposed to break; all you have to do is hold up your end until I do." I raise an eyebrow and deliberately put the merest hint of scorn in my voice. "Think you can handle that?"

The hint of competition stiffens his spine; no one gets the better of this man, and if it's self-acceptance that we're competing on, then he'll show me. I get the quickly changing expressions again, then his face settles on the ruthless-alpha look. I've never seen it before, but I recognize it instantly. He grabs my hair again, and there's no conflict in his face or voice as he stares fiercely into my eyes and says, slowly and with emphasis, "You are mine. I know that you are mine, and this will continue until you know it, too." He continues staring into my face for a moment, then uses the hand that's wrapped in my hair to shake my head. He speaks fiercely, but without anger or doubt: "Understand?"




Truth AND Consequences



I try to nod, and he releases my hair to let me do so.

He moves to the right side of the piano bench and holds up my right breast. "I want some more screaming," he says, and he doesn't sound conflicted anymore.

He brings his fist down on my breast and gets the scream he'd asked for. Another blow, another scream. Suddenly he starts punching his fist into my breast with enormous force, very fast, and I scream so hard and so long that I have trouble breathing. He pauses for a moment to allow me to catch up on air, then resumes, again punching my breast with great force and speed, producing a pain that I can't fight, and so I don't.

I realize then that I've been fighting the pain, and instead I surrender to it and accept it, and in surrendering to it, I also surrender to him. I'm still screaming bloody murder, but I'm no longer tense about it; it's just the natural reaction to that much pain.

He stops and looks at me. "For how long should I hit you?"

My new-found surrender makes this the honest answer: "Until you wish to stop."

"I want to hit you ten more times. Ask me to hit you ten more times."

It doesn't occur to me to say anything other than, "Please, Stewart, hit me ten more times."

He hits me again and again, just as hard as before, with just as much screaming, and yet there is a peace in my soul. It is only my job to sit here and to scream. I don't need to wonder about anything, think about anything, decide anything. He will do all of that; all I need to do is scream until he no longer wishes to hear me scream, and that seems so simple, so ... dare I say "pure"? I even feel slightly proud, that I can hurt this much to make my Stewart happy, and I scream almost happily, glad to be useful, glad that he is using me to get something he needs.

After he finishes those ten blows, he examines my face closely. My face and eyes are red, my nose is running, my mouth is dry and my voice hoarse from screaming, yet I can sense a certain serenity on my face, and I know that he sees it, because he helps me off of the piano bench and lowers me to a kneeling position on the floor. He stands in front of me while I kneel and puts a hand on each side of my face, tenderly. "I see that you've achieved your safeword, and I've had all I want for the moment. Welcome to Scotland, Katie girl."

[I'll write Part Three if anybody likes the first two parts.]