1 comments/ 32486 views/ 4 favorites Son of the Minotaur Ch. 01 By: MrPessimist Some things are just so weird that they have to be written down. Normally I wouldn't bother, but this is too weird. We actually call this a "true lie" in my circle of friends, something that while true it sounds like a lie anyway. Well, here's my true lie. Guessing from the fact that this is an erotic story archive you are reading this from, yes this is about sex. First, let me tell you a little about myself. My name is Joe, simple and easy. I am a very hairy man, always have been from the moment I hit puberty. The church I grew up in had a running joke that I was proof of evolution. I have thick black hair on my head, arms, eyebrows (not uni-brow), legs, chest, and even some hair on my back. Remember the tape of Bigfoot in the woods walking? Not that bad, but jokes have been made. If there is a god I guess he/she/it decided to compensate. My metabolism is on the high side and I naturally put on muscle very easily. I'm not one of those muscle bound freaks you see on TV that you just know is on steroids, but only because I limit my weight lifting to 30 minutes a day and twice a week. I'm also I believe the best way to describe it as "freaking huge". I ended up whopping 6 feet 9 inches tall with 270 pounds of rock-hard muscle. My little soldier is even more impressive, just over 13 inches long when at attention and almost 6 inches in circumference. That's about a half of an inch short of the world's largest medically confirmed erection, I checked. I also had no idea what side of the family it came from. My parents, a nice mid-western couple, adopted me at birth. It never really bothered me much, but as it turns out it should of. In high school they gave me the nickname that stuck with me for the rest of my life, "The Bull". Yes, I even played football to complete the stereotype, but it was more along the lines I was just shy of shanghaied into it. I was recruited practically at the last minute, two weeks before first game. I got my nickname at practice for obvious reasons and not quite so obvious made apparent by the football pants. I probably would have gone on to fame and glory, I admit it was more fun them I expected but I stopped. I stopped because in my first game I almost killed a guy. I felt guilty, quit the team, and even visited the guy a couple times. The first time he was understandably pissed but after that first time it was like he thought I was his best friend. I found out later that he had told his story to a few nurses that didn't believe him until they saw me. He worked this too his advantage and lost his virginity too an amazingly hot nurse. I guess I was forgiven. The funniest part is, you'd think a guy like me would have an easier time getting laid. I don't blame the ladies at all really, but it always went something like this in high school and college. A potential bedroom sparring partner finds out about my almost record-breaking penis through the grapevine, heads my way, sees the rest of me, and the my size scares her off. Casual sex just doesn't happen for me because, as I've been told by female friends, perspective partners become worried that I'll get attached and become the scariest stalker/rapist ever. By the time they get over that I at best have already been filed into the perma-friend category. That and I played Dungeons & Dragons, but that was just because my grade school friends did I swear! At the beginning of my little saga I was 25 and technically still a virgin. Now in my defense I must have easily gotten couple hundred blowjobs and hand jobs in college. A 13-inch long almost 2-inch wide war club does get attention. It wasn't that I couldn't talk to women either. One of the ways I paid the bills in college was as a bouncer for sorority parties actually. You know the stories about frat guys taking unfairly taking advantage of or roughing up girls? Only happened once my freshman year when I went. A frat guy roughed up his girlfriend, I happened to know her from high school, and I did a little roughing back. After that it kind of was my reputation on campus, but really my thought processes were along the lines of "If I can't get poon-tang everyone else better at least play fair godammit." All that means is that they were all sexual favors out of gratitude. That's okay; I'm not going to force it in anyone. I just wished someone would give it a shot before I die. I graduated with a BS in math, but my heart really wasn't in it. I ended up making pizzas at a by-the-slice place near my alma mater for just enough to live in a studio apartment. I admit I was kind of scared how I was going nowhere, but being around college kids with the same fears helped. Apparently the legend of "The Bull" is a favorite among the fraternity/sorority crowd. They always make me out to be a modern-say Wild West sheriff cleaning out the unsavory characters, which I admit it's kind of neat. I was still making some side money as a bouncer at sorority parties, although my other side business of helping guys impress their girlfriends by losing to them in arm wrestling for a fee kind of fell flat. One day I was working behind the register when a group of frat boy initiates were showing their parents around campus and some of the hotspots. I could hear them actually sharing some of the tamer stories about me when they walked in, but it stopped dead when one of the moms got a good look at me and fainted dead away like she saw a ghost. Even when she came to she still refused to even look at me and rushed out. You can imagine everyone's confusion especially mine, but I tried to just push it out of my mind and finish the day. About half-an-hour before I'm due off the boss pulls me into his office. He got a phone call from the mom that fainted and she wanted to talk to me. "Hello?" "I'm sorry young man. I should have controlled myself better." "No problem, but I am kind of curious what happened." "You really don't know do you?" "Know what?" She paused, and her voice was suddenly a lot less sure, "Have you ever been to Pittsburgh?" "No ma'am. KC all my life as far as I know." "As far as you know?" "I was adopted, practically at birth." "And how old are you?" "25, why?" "Oh god!" "What?" "You may want to sit down. What do you know about your biological parents?" "Nothing." "Then . . . Then give me your mailing address. I think I know who your father is, but you have to ask yourself, do you really want to know?" "Yeah, that'd be great." "Think about this, are you sure?" I thought for a second like she asked, but couldn't see any harm and I gave her my mailing address. The package came later that week with a note. "I'm sorry that you had to find out this way, but you look so much like him. You don't have his damnable eyes and your hair is darker but you look just like him." The rest of the package just went downhill from there. In the mid-to-late seventies in Pittsburgh there was a serial rapist known as The Minotaur on the loose. At first all the forensic evidence they had on him was that he was, like me, freaking huge, very strong, and very hairy. You have to remember DNA evidence didn't really take off until 1988 when the FBI started using it. From 1974 to 1978 he had 39 confirmed rape victims and given his MO the police wouldn't have been surprised if the real count was triple that. My bastard of an old man basically picked a house among the well to do with multiple women of childbearing ages. He'd watch them for up to a couple months, just planning and looking for signs and going though their trash to try and gauge the cycles of the women. When he decided to strike he'd break into their homes, beat anyone not a woman of childbearing years until they weren't something to worry about and rape all of the women that were until they were unconscious. The bastard's philosophy was simple, women were worthless unless they were pregnant and his size and fertility was proof of superiority to all other men. The Minotaur stopped was stopped early November 1978 because he got cocky, the last victims he went after happened to include a recently off-duty policewoman that still had her gun on her. He was healed enough from the gunshot wounds in early 1979 to stand trial and was ruled insane to the point of extreme danger to himself and those around him. A few days before Christmas that year an ice storm knocked out power to the asylum and it was plunged into chaos. The Minotaur, having not raped anyone in a little over a year and seeing that it would take extreme measures to restore order, saw it as his last chance to get to add to his legacy. He just wandered the asylum dragging any fertile looking woman into a room where he stole the only key, tried to rape them pregnant, and beating, often to death, anyone that got in his way. He was killed by police in the room he held his captives while working on his 6th rape victim in the asylum. At the bottom of the box there was another note, but as much as I wanted to disbelieve it had a good idea what it said before I read it. "In 1976 I had a couple friends over at my house when he broke in. He beat my dad so bad he never walked again, and then when he came upstairs we could see in his eyes what was a pleasant surprise all three of us were there. No one else got pregnant so I refused to believe it happened to me, even when all the signs were there. One by one he told us about how great his genes were and how wonderful it was that we were given this opportunity to be worth something and have his baby." "When I finally admitted to myself I was carrying a rapist's baby I was almost 5 months along. Thank god Roe vs. Wade was three years previous, because I had an abortion as soon as I could and I have never questioned having it, even knowing I might never have a child again. Fortunately Terry's father proved the doctors wrong seven years later. I'm sorry I had tell you this, and who knows? There's still a chance it's just a coincidence, but you look just like him and the timing scares me. I'll pray for you." Every sentence of her second note and the articles hit me like someone bashing me in the face with a brick. The worst part was, from the photos she was right. The sick bastard looked just like me except for the eyes. The timing also puts my conception right at the same time he was having his last spree in the mental asylum. I never gave much thought to who my biological parents are, but now I had to know. First, I called my parents. "Hello?" "Mom?" "Hey, how's the big city?" "Okay, I guess." "What's wrong honey?" "Are you both there?" "Yes we are, you want to talk to your dad?" "No, this is kind of important. I need to see my birth certificate." "Why?" "I may have found out who my biological father is." Mom paused, she talked to dad, and then she got back on the phone. "We'll be waiting for you here." I went and we talked. As it turns out they never told me because they weren't sure, but they had a pretty strong hunch. The asylum incident had made the evening national news that year, they remember because frankly it scared the crap out of them. They were on the government list to adopt and they had a biological parent change their mind before me, but from me they didn't hear anything from the biological parents, not one piece of personal information from either one. All G-Men in suits the whole way. They had noticed that the timing was dead on, and the people in social services did find it odd that they were not only trying not to keep me in the same state to ease the paperwork, but also purposely making sure that I was at least 3 states away. Just to top it off my birth certificate was blank for parents and listed Pittsburgh as the place of birth. As I got older they did a little digging and they noticed the resemblance to. Like I said, nothing concrete but some very interesting coincidences were popping up. Looking back I'm glad they kept their suspicions a secret, "Hey son nice catch. By the way, your mother and I think that you may be biological son of the John Wayne Gacy of Rape. Let's go get some ice cream." I called my boss and told him I'd need some time off but I didn't tell them why, not until I was 100% sure. My parents gave me their blessing and made sure that I knew that no matter what I found I'd still be their son, and I went on a quest to find out just who exactly my biological parents really were. With a copy of my birth certificate I tried official channels, but red tape galore so I took to the Internet. What I found disgusted me frankly. At first all I found were things you'd find in an encyclopedia that I already knew. A little deeper and I ended up in one of those dark places of the Internet that most people don't want to be there. I guess I should have seen it coming, but one link I thought was finally something useful turned out to be a forum site for people who claim to be rapists. It's all good with me if it's two consenting adults pretending and I know the vast majority if not all of them were probably the dark cousins of basement-30-year-old-virgins talking big but holy crap! They had made a little Internet shrine to The Minotaur. My first reaction was to throw up and hit the back button, but they had something I had never seen before. I'd seen names before, but nothing this complete. They had all the official victims and they also had the names of anyone that's come forward since The Minotaur's death, the new total being 63 including the asylum. They did bemoan the fact that since The Minotaur was rough enough to usually require hospitalization that it's unlikely that new victims would pop up and they couldn't get the names of the victims from the asylum, but 63 is more then enough. The hackers in the group somehow got a hold of the medical records of the 57 out of 63 outside the asylum, and the freaks had a second list of how many of them were impregnated. Random chance says that a healthy woman that has sex at a random time without birth control with a healthy fertile male has a 5 in 28-30 chance of being impregnated. The list should be at around 10 or 11. The Minotaur's tactics, even with his preference for the well to do giving his victims better access to birth control, gave this list 24 names. It wasn't all bad news; his endowment was large enough and his raping rough enough to cause significant damage to the cervix most of the time. Of the 24 confirmed impregnated the lucky girls wouldn't have kids for a while, many never did, but the usual 15-20% miscarriage rate jumped to 17 of the 24. Of the 7 remaining women 5 had abortions, thank you Roe vs. Wade. 57 tries to make babies and only 2 made it. One died in a car wreck with her foster parents in 1985, the other committed suicide over Kurt Cobain. I just loved how that pissed these guys off. All they could do was hope that some of the six in the asylum had his baby, and random chance said around 1 would. I also found demands to rape the policewoman that ended his reign of terror with her personal information. Apparently when she brought him down it put her career on the fast track and I found myself rooting for her. I knew that it probably would come to nothing, the more I read the more and more they sounded like little chickenshits, but I figured I'd try to talk to her anyway to warn her at least. Backing out of the site (and puking in my apartment's toilet), I decided to just e-mail her the truth and see what happens. To my surprise Captain Shelly McManus e-mailed back the next day! She gave me an IM and we chatted about the weather, sports teams, and just normal stuff. We both knew why we were there, my IM used my old nickname The Bull for crying out loud, but neither of us wanted to bring it up. I decided to stop trying to lead into it gently. "I can't believe I'm talking to a fifty year old police captain over the Internet." "I'd have gotten higher kiddy, but when they found out I was a lesbian it kind of put the brakes on my career." "Heh. That's not stereotypical." "LOL" "I can't believe the fifty-year-old police captain just said lol." "It's a strange world." "Yeah, I know. God, How did I end up with The Bull of all nicknames?" "I wondered when you were going to bring that up." "I did a little checking, and all the resulting pregnancies of The Minotaur before the asylum are accounted for." "True. But you told me you may have come from the asylum." "The timing lines up with the date on my birth certificate, is there a way to check? It is the case that made you career." "Hold on. They went over everything Minotaur related with a fine toothcomb when I was up for Lieutenant. I may still have something floating around." I waited what felt like an eternity. "Right here I can tell you that four didn't get pregnant." "And the other two?" "Hold on." I waited again. "You lucked out kid, we can answer whether or not you are the son of The Minotaur with one DNA test without a court order." "Really?" "Digging up the Minotaur would take a court order, but one of the impregnated is a Jane Doe that's been in a light coma since 1971." "We can rule out the other?" "The other was a nurse at the asylum with heavy Japanese ancestry. She claims that while he did rape her, even explaining to her that he was being gentler then normal so she wouldn't miscarry his baby, he also beat to death the slashers that were going to kill her. Giving birth to his baby was her way of paying him back for saving her life so she wouldn't owe him anything in the next life." "Oh. Makes sense I guess." "Besides, it was a girl and she kept it." "Okay then. I go to Pittsburgh and test to see if Jane Doe is my mother. Meet me at the airport?" "Sure thing, one last loose end to tie up for me." I went, and it was kind of sad. If this lady was my mother she was dreaming her life away. I knew she was, I had her eyes, but I wanted the test to tell me that. At least Captain McManus was right, her badge was enough to get the test done. A few days and I would know if I was the son of a Jane Doe that's been in a coma for over thirty years and a serial rapist. Not the best family history in the world but at least I would know. I wish I could say I saw the sights, but really I just sat in my motel room and waited. I did warn Captain McManus about the threat as an anonymous source, but she not only knew but one of them was an FBI agent that had managed to get mod status on what amounts to a long term sting operation, just in case the real deal shows up. She slipped and told me which one, but I won't share it here. I got the test results back, but I was having second thoughts and didn't open them right away. I thanked Shelly, boarded a plane back home, and put the envelope on my desk and stared at it. I called my boss and told him I could work again, just to get my mind of the envelope. Finally, I couldn't take it. I took the envelope with me and I visited my real parents. We talked, had spaghetti and meatballs with my stepbrother and his girlfriend, and when he went to take her home I opened the envelope. Positive with 99.4% certainty. Jane Doe gave birth to me, conceived me on that night a few days before Christmas in 1979, and was locked away so no one else could touch her. The Minotaur was my biological father. The mood got really dark really quick, and I decided to leave before I ruined everybody else's evening. I remember the first thing I did when I got back to my apartment was drink all the alcohol I could find. To be honest I blacked out and apparently I went back to the forum site and told everyone off. I even registered as Son Of The Minotaur. The fuckers loved it; their hero's genes did survive. Even tried to give me tips on how to start so that I could live up to my legacy. I tried to go back to work, but my heart wasn't in it. I fell kind of bad about it, but I was even snapping at people that called me "The Bull". They had no idea, but this had to be a sick joke. The one surviving son of The Minotaur and he gets the nickname The Bull. Random chance is a bastard sometimes. To top things off, my e-mail was flooding with net sickos trying to get me to start raping and tape it so they could watch on the internet. I could almost hear my biological dad laughing. Son of the Minotaur Ch. 01 I tried talking to Captain McManus about it, but movies with actors pretending are perfectly legal. Until it can be proven that something else is going on they can't raise a finger. Finally, in desperation, I PM'd the mod to see if he could stop it. The PM back was telling me to stop being a pussy and get to raping, in other words much more and I put his cover at risk. The Minotaur was obsessed with his legacy, and he got one that I felt stuck in. Then, out of the blue, I got an idea. Fight fire with fire. I snail-mailed my idea to Captain McManus, who in turn passed it off to the FBI agent. A few days later I was visited by some FBI agents and escorted to the local headquarters. Officially they said there was a Minotaur copycat on the loose and they wanted to hold onto me while a court order for fingerprints came through. Obviously it would fail and everyone knew it but I would be alone with FBI agents for a few hours so we could talk. They actually liked the idea, believe it or not, and the FBI agent starting pulling strings for a job interview with a small outfit right here on the outskirts of my hometown. My idea was this; I was a pizza cook in a college town that just happened to be known on the Internet as the biological son and only surviving heir to a major serial rapist's legacy. It would be perfectly natural for me to break down one day and cash in on this and start doing fetish porn movies. If anything illegal is going on, I'd know and through code-phrases on the forum website the FBI agent would know. The FBI wins by nabbing the bad guys. If nothing illegal is going on I'd continue and my father's legacy he cared so much about would be reduced to nothing more then maybe a string of cheesy porn movies. Even better, when people looked back on this and thought of the Minotaur more and more would think of a 21st century porn star then a 1970s nutcase. I was going to cheapen and even steal the legacy he loved so much. I sometimes wish you were alive old man, just so I could see your face. Son of the Minotaur Ch. 02 Traditionally you dress conservative to a job interview, but when you are interviewing for a job in the underground adult fetish entertainment industry do you? I guess I have an answer. The nicer you dress reflects just how nervous you are. If you are more nervous then you have ever been in your entire life you, like me for example, go in a full suit and tie. For those of you that didn't read the first part imagine a hairy 6 foot 9 inch tall 270-pounds of muscle squirming penguin and you've got a rough idea what I look like. You'd be amazed how well black hair covers up sweat. Terry, The guy doing the interview, was practically my opposite. A skinny and short black guy in his low-to-mid 30's with frosted tips, homemade sandals, one of those hot-dogs-as-double-entente t-shirts, and shorts not quite Dangle from Reno 911 short but close. He's reading some forms and a written application I had to do and I swear he's taking a few extra minutes just to make me sweet. "A couple weeks ago I got your name from an acquaintance of mine putting in a good word. Now the tests we had you do show no STD's, which is very good, but not a surprise given what you wrote for sexual experience." Gulp! "Jesus, your Adam's Apple is the size of my fist. Relax!" Right then apparently his secretary decided she just had to give him some papers. Granted she was a welcome sight; about a foot-and-a-half shorter then me with fiery-red hair, deadly green eyes, a face like a very young Beverly Garland (an actress in some particularly bad 50's and 60's horror movies), hips made to be held on to, and perfect looking easily c-cup tits almost fitting in a catholic schoolgirl outfit. For an after-school job for someone that had to be at most 17 this did seem a pretty interesting choice. "Here's the latest reviews on 'It Came From Planet Leather' boss." "Thanks Carrie." "This the new guy?" she says as she rests her arms on the back of his office chair. "Yes it is. Kind of on the big side for my tastes but still kind of cute." "I concur Ter." I had to speak up, "I'm right here." "And he can guess were talking about him? He's got Ben beat for smarts already! Have you figured out if he'll sleep with you for a bonus?" "You know that's none of your business Carrie." About here I figured out they were trying to calm me down with the comradery and I have to say it kind of worked. "As flattered as I am to already be receiving sexual harassment, I don't find men sexually attractive." "Looks like you'll have to work on him Ter." "I'm not sure I want to even hire him yet," then he seemed to notice what she was wearing, "You didn't!" "What?" "I told you to stop messing with new people like this!" "Whatever could you mean?" "Show him your drivers license Carrie." She admitted defeat, "Fine." I took it and gave a good hard look and I didn't believe it. She had to be 16, but a few months older then I am? 25? Get out. "Carrie here has been with us for a few years. She was an actress but we figured out her fan-base liked her because at the time they thought she was only 13. We at Clever Name may bend a few rules that our more mainstream counterparts tow the line with, but we don't break them." "And thanks to my asshole mom and step dad the people here are the closest thing to a family I have so naturally I didn't want to leave. So until my looks look like I'm definitely 18 I'm stuck doing paperwork." "Well said Miss Carrie." "Thanks you Ter." "Now, granted you do claim a couple hundred women have given you sexual favors and your erection was confirmed at over a foot, but you also admit that you are technically still a virgin." Carrie was just plain shocked and reaches for the paper, "Let me see that!" "Why would you even want to work in fetish porn?" The million-dollar question isn't it. For those of you that haven't read the first part of my little saga my answer also makes a very handy recap. "Cheapening, Stealing, and ultimately ruining the legacy left to me by my biological father." "Ouch. Anyone I'd know?" "The Minotaur." Carrie gives a confused look, but Terry seems to silently know. "From June 1974 to December 1979 he's been confirmed to have stalked and raped 63 women with the intention of impregnating as many as he could. I would have had 25 half-siblings but he usually damaged the cervix enough that his victims couldn't carry his baby to term, or any other baby later." I had definitely caught Carrie's attention, "Wow, and I thought my dad and step-dad were assholes. How many kids did he end up having?" "After all the miscarriages and abortions, Four. A girl that died in a car wreck in the 80's, a boy that killed himself over Kurt Cobain, another girl living in Pennsylvania, and finally me. My mother being an inmate in the insane asylum he was sentenced to that had been in a catatonic state if not a light coma since 1971." "How is this getting back at him?" "Doing everything he did but better, consensually, and on tape, seems like a good way to cheapen and steal his legacy to me." They gave a nod; Terry gave his papers one of those boss-like quick edges lining up exercises and that seemed to be that. "We'll call you with our decision." I know what you're thinking, "Joe, that didn't sound like a very good interview at all and you labeled this one an 'Erotic Coupling' story. What gives?" I'm getting to it. I thought it was over too at the time but there's more. I was in the parking lot when I heard someone running up behind me and I turned just in time to catch the last little jolt of Carrie's breasts as she came to a stop. "Hey. Something wrong?" "Not really, it's just that it's rare too find someone whose parental situation is more fucked up then mine." "Then I hate to break this to you but I consider the couple that adopted me my real parents, and they're a regular Ozzie and Harriet." "You definitely have Ben beat for smarts." "Thank you." "Well, I know this weirds out a lot of guys, especially if they know my job, but you seem like a nice guy. Want to see a movie?" "Sure, anytime in mind?" "Friday, maybe some dinner first around 6-ish?" "Sounds good, let me give you my cell." What can I say? We exchanged numbers and she went back inside to work. Of course I watched the sway of the skirt as she went back in, I have warm red blood in my veins. The pizza shop was a little on the slow side, but enough to get my mind off Carrie for a while. I made sure I was off Friday evening but beyond that I was still getting used to who my biological father was. Carrie called around 5 and suggested a bar nearby the local artsy movie theatre and we met up at 6, right on time. We both opted for a casual look, I in my favorite t-shirt and carpenter pants and Carrie in a pink tank top and tight jeans. We just talked about little things for a while, my amazing-but-brief high school football career, traffic, the local major league baseball team (I still say the Kansas City Royals suck), etc until they brought out our ribs. Then somehow the conversation got to Clever Name and I was hooked. "Well, you heard my story. I haven't starred in any movies in a while because I looked too young." "Now I'd believe 18, but I still have a hard time believing you're actually a few months older then me." "I got that from my mom, she was the same way. It's one of the few things I liked that I got from her actually." "Your parents that bad?" "They never hit me or anything, but I bet my parents make yours look like hippies. I moved in with a friend at 16 because I got tired of being called a whore for not wearing dresses down to my ankles and for dating boys." "Ouch. So you became a porn star to rebel." "Yep, that's about the size of it. Terry's still on the fence with you by the way." "I figured I wasn't exactly ideal." "Lucky for you he likes big men, he's about 95% gay by the way." "Only 95%?" "He married his best friend since they were little kids, who just so happened to be Maria. They have what you would call an open marriage." "Haven't met her." "She's an interesting person. As long as you don't turn her on in any way she's probably the nicest person you'd ever meet. But if you do she goes into Dominatrix mode and look out!" "Oh Noes!" "You say that now, but she has what amounts to a 6-man, 3-woman harem." "Anyone else I should know?" "Let's see. One of Terry and Maria's old fuck-buddies is our medical advisor. Ronnie The Brit we call him, just to piss him off mostly. Him and his lab partner Aarti are quite frankly geniuses. Ronnie claims that while his tests aren't exactly FDA approved they can catch STD's up to 10 times faster then official tests. They used to work for one of our overseas competitors but know we have them." "How'd you manage that?" "Way back in the day Ronnie pointed out some unsafe practices they were doing, so they fired him. Soon after Aarti and a couple other actresses and actors tested positive for HIV because of it. Terry offered Ronnie a job, and Aarti sued the pants off the old company. I don't know exactly how much she got, but I know it paid for her Masters in Bio-Chemistry and meds." "That's a start." "Speaking of starting . . ." Yes, we were late to the movie. Won't tell you which one because frankly I thought it stank but Carrie didn't. Oh well, I was there for the company anyway. My parents would have been proud, I was a perfect gentleman. At the end of the movie we walked out to her car and we just couldn't stop talking! What can I say? I was really beginning to like her. It's so rare today to find someone who that if you do disagree with them they don't think your evil, just wrong. We were even discussing our favorite painters and before I knew it we were in front of her apartment building and I heard those six magic words all guys want to hear. "Would you like to come in?" I was so surprised and excited I don't even remember the walk to the door, just that the inside of her apartment was a lot better then mine. Carpet floors, an actual couch, a sink that didn't leak, all of it. I'm not going to say I forgot Carrie was there, but I was definitely distracted for a second. The second it took her to close and lock the door, walk over to me, lean in so those great tits were flattened against my chest, and put her hand on my crotch to be exact. "I really like you and you definitely are a cut above the normal freak that I end up dating," she starts huskily breathing out while starting to rub Little Joe through my pants. I put my hands on those inviting hips of hers and start a light rubbing of my own around her midriff and the small of her back, "I aim to please." "Terry hasn't made up his mind, but I'm sure a good word from me could sway him and I haven't had a decent lay in months. You think a second fact-finding part to your job interview would be too much to ask for?" I tilted her head up, bent down the foot-and-a-half height difference, and gently began kissing- just barely teasing her tongue with mine. My hands moved to the small of her back and edged under her tank top but just by an inch or two. Little Joe was definitely demanding attention and wasn't so little anymore, especially with her rubbing picking up speed. Carrie gave a wicked smile, turned us around, and backed me up until I plopped down on her couch. Placing herself between my feet, she got down on her knees and bent over to rest her head against the bulge in my pants that was a restrained Little Joe. "Well, there's definitely something there." Tantalizingly slow she licks up along the side of the zipper and only brings her hands forward when she reaches the button. Then slowly, just to drive me crazy, it seems to take forever to unbutton, unzip, and pull away my pants and underwear (boxers) to finally free my 13-inch love-stick. Her eyes light up in surprise, but just for a second. She closes her eyes, gingerly sticks out her tongue, and starts licking up and down my shaft while playing with my balls. My hands, almost instinctually, place themselves on that fiery red hair that's looking better every moment. She opens her eyes and looks straight into mine, like she's asking for permission. Then her head raises, her lips surround my cock's head, and she starts taking more and more of me in her mouth. Carrie's head starts traveling up and down slowly, those green eyes locked onto mine beaming with lust. Her speed picked up quickly, made easier by her saliva dripping down my schlong and she really started getting excited. I saw the mischievous twinkle just before one last trick. One hand played with my balls, one hand went down out of view (I think her kitty was demanding attention too), and she paused. With an excited grin she got off her knees to give her head a better angle, and actually started deep throating Little Joe! I don't mean going deeper into her mouth, I mean I was pushing past tonsils into throat! The deep moans removed all doubt she was really into this, but it was also vibrating Little Joe and I couldn't hold it. "Oh Shit! Here it comes!" I managed to half slur out before erupting. My hands shot to the back of her head and pushed her head further onto my cock. I could feel the surprise as much as see it in her eyes, as I was cumming down her throat so hard I was convulsing. I pull my hands away and she falls backward right onto her rear end and I can see the wet spot in her jeans like she spilled a tall glass of water. "Damn, it was like being on the receiving end of a fire-hose. You had to cum bad." I swiftly got off the couch and crawled/pounced toward her with my pants still somewhere between my own hips and my knees. My hands caught her feet before she could even move and I, the best way I can think of describing it, crawled up along the sides of her, "forcing" her to lay down on the floor. I stopped, planted a few kisses on that little dip in the collarbone and looked up at those piercing green eyes. "You're that good, believe me I'd know. Did you even have a gag reflex?" "It's controllable when I play with my clit. I hope you have more in you because if you're a one shot and you cum that quickly . . ." "Take a look for yourself." Little Joe wasn't 100% erect, but definitely still hard as a rock. Carrie tried to reach out and hold Little Joe, still slick and dripping from her saliva, but her arms just weren't long enough and I wouldn't let her. She started to protest and in response I put a finger over her mouth, then moved to the side and pulled one of the tank top's straps off of her shoulder. "Shh. . .I'd like to do a little exploring. Besides, I owe you one." I took the straps of her tank top down off of her shoulders and starting giving attention to the ears, neck, and that little dip between the collarbone and neck. I started to take the shirt down, but changed my mind. My hands gently move side to side under her shirt, only progressing upward teasingly slow. I decided I wanted to see what my hands were finding and crawled back down to that tight little tummy, kissing at the navel and working up as my hands forged ahead to stop right at the edge of her bra. I wasn't looking up at the moment but I got a coo of approval. "Well, what have we here?" Pretending to be genuinely surprised at the existence of those perfect c's I get back up onto my knees and practically rip that tank top off over her head. The only thing standing between those breasts and me was a classy-yet-simple red bra that showed off that cleavage in ways that made me feel funny inside in a good way. "You just going to stare or you want to help me get this bra off?" Taking the hint I strattle her and bend back down, putting my face right between those heavenly breasts. Giving gentile kisses and licks to the little valley between I use my elbows for support and let my hands work their way under her back. They join with her hands and together, in an inspiring show of teamwork; the four of them release what god gave her from their garment prison. In their full glory they're even better then I imagined, perky nipples on pale firm probably c globes. Fake boobs always looked like they were only trip-and-fall away from bursting and these didn't. If they were fake her plastic surgeon was a minor god. "Your breasts are amazing Carrie." "Thank you, they're real too." "We'll see about that." I decided to pretend I wasn't convinced. Lowering my head a little further down her body I start exploring every square inch of skin with my tongue, with special attention on the underside and leaving out the perky little nipples just to drive her nuts. "Well by golly you're right. I guess there's just one test left." I scoot up so I'm off to one side and our heads are level and look straight into those beautiful green eyes. My hand travels downward toward her jeans to which she raises her hips when she sees what's happening. I use one hand to unbutton them, push down her jeans to reveal simple red soaking wet panties, and gently begin rubbing where her pussy lips would be. Carrie gives out the cutest little sharp breath intake, which I take as a sign to keep going. My hand moves up to the edge of her underwear and work underneath to a positively soaking neatly trimmed pussy. Again, I rub those pussy lips but with a little hunger in my fingers. Once my fingers are completely coated with her juices I let them "accidentally" bump into her peaking clitoris. Every time I do she actually yelps with pleasure and comes down with one of the sexiest moans I've ever heard. One final "accident" and I let my index finger slip into her vagina. It's actually kind of tight in there, nothing like you'd picture a former-porn star. She can barely take it and can't help squirming but still locked onto my blue eyes with those haunting green ones. "Bullshit you were a porn-star, you are way to tight for that," I taunt as I add my middle finger into her pussy. She almost can't respond and is shaking close to orgasm, but she does manage something, "Bullshit you've never been laid. You wouldn't be half this good if you were." I put my thumb right at the entrance to get it soaking and use it to manipulate her clit, "All I said was no woman has ever let me stick Not-So-Little Joe into her kitty, I didn't say I've gone right up to that point hundreds of times." She's so far gone I'm pretty sure she didn't hear me and I can almost see the energy of her orgasm building, so I decide to run with that instead. "That's right. Cum for me babe. Don't hold back." I gave her clit one final almost-flick with my thumb and she just exploded. Her hips gyrate on my fingers almost too fast for me to catch up and she starts squirting all over the carpet giving out a final "OH GOD" before almost passing out. "You can't be a virgin." "Like I said, I am only by the technical definition. I've just done enough other things so many times I kind of made up for it. Speaking of which, think you can handle Not-So-Little Joe?" Carrie gave my dick a long hard look, fitting because Little Joe was definitely screaming for attention and ready to go after that show. She makes a decision and bends her legs up so she can take her pants and underwear off completely. "Finish taking your pants off and come to the bedroom." She crawls out from beside me and gets up to walk to the bedroom, giving a wink that shot up and down my spine as she turned the corner. I couldn't help fisted "Yes" and I did what I was told! In the bedroom, even though the only light was coming in from the streetlights outside, I could still see that there was a problem. "Fuck!" "What?" "I'm out of lube and I just realized the only condoms I have are form my last boyfriend, and you'd rip right through them." Son of the Minotaur Ch. 02 My heart sank, so close and yet so far! Robbed! ARRRRGGG!! Carrie started giving little counting motions with her fingers. "Hmm. . .Day 17. Nevermind, it will be alright." "17? From your period? Cutting it close don't you think?" "Low female fertility runs in the family. The condom is mostly disease protection and we both test clean. Yeah, it's a little close for comfort but it'll be alright. Just try to pull out before you cum." Little Joe was screaming to just cram it in but I know better. I crawl onto the bed with Little Joe lined up, but I go slowly. Carrie is definitely riled up; I can see the lust for my member burn in her eyes alone. Nevermind that she's laying down with her legs as far apart as she can, she's playing with one of her breasts with one hand, stimulating her clit to get juices going with the other, and can't decide whether she should look at my face or my cock. My arms pass her legs as I once again do what I can describe best as crawl up her, but this time my legs making it impossible for her to bring hers together. I move my hips so that my head is moving against, but not going inside, the lips of her pussy to get Little Joe slick before entry and Carrie is actually looking scared. Putting my hands on her reclined shoulders I give her a deep kiss to reassure her. "Sure thing, just say what you need me to do, I'll be as gentle as I can." I shift my weight back to my legs so I'm on my knees, grab those hips, raise them to line us up, and let about an inch of my head into her. I backed out, and then put in an inch and a half. She moans, I add another half an inch. "Feel good baby?" "More, give me more." I pull out and sink 5 inches in at one quick stab. She let's out a yelp and the hand that was on her clit reaches down and grabs Little Joe. "Get down here." I let go of her hips and let my weight fall forward, catching myself with my hands before I hit Carrie. Her other hand reaches down and I watch as they actually push Little Joe into her bush another 3 inches. "God, you're a monster. You have to go slow, you could really hurt a girl with that thing. And try to go no deeper then this." Looking up into those eyes I begin to pull out and she gets this cute little look like I'm taking away her favorite toy. With just the tip in I pause for a second, then bring it home through that sweet velvet pussy. "TOO FAST!" bursts from her mouth and those eyes tear up a little. "Sorry babe," I apologized as I pulled out, and put it back in slower. This time all I got was a little moan, so I kept that speed as a rhythm and we just went to town. I'm not going to lie and say I had no problems with keeping that speed. I found myself speeding up because my god it was like she had pure magic in that lovely wet, tight (for me at least) pussy. When I got too fast though, all I had to do was look into those eyes and watch for pain. Least I could do was make sure she was enjoying it too and god was I! It wasn't long before I had that pressure in my abs and balls. Not ready to cum yet, but definitely getting there. What can I say? It was a sweat-dripping, body-entangling, loudly grunting heaven. I went deeper like nature demanded and started hitting Carrie's cervix. She was about to say something but the hint of pain in her eyes got me to back off a bit, meaning I tried to barely tap it instead of full on slam into it. Her reaction was like I shocked her with electricity. Suddenly her legs have a death-lock around my waist that I doubt I could unpry with a crowbar, not that I wanted to. I was so close to cumming I could feel my balls raise up, and I had promised to pull out. "Keep doing that, I'm almost there." Carrie managed to pant out. "I'm getting close too baby, you might want to move your legs." "Just a little longer." "Babe, I can't pull out while your legs are . . ." "OH FUCK!" Carrie came, hard. Her vaginal muscles were rapidly clinching around Little Joe, motions rippling trying to pull Little Joe straight into her womb. Needless to say after the first round of her squirting orgasm tried to milk my dick I came too, hard. Her arms reached up and pulled me down to her so she could shove her tongue down my throat while she came. Instinct controlled me and I was rutting like a wild animal as I jizzed right onto her cervix and practically right into her womb. Finally, we collapsed together feeling spent and soaking in the afterglow. Almost a minute passed before Carrie seemed to finally realize what her legs were doing. She let me go, and I rolled off still breathing heavy. "Well, so much for not cumming in me." "Sorry, I tried to." "I know you did. Did anyone ever tell you just give of a 'good guy, you can trust me' vibe?" "Not really." That sweaty beautiful body leaned in, climbed onto mine, and gave a quick peck on the cheek, "Well, now someone has." A few minutes passed as she started playing with my abundant chest hair. "First thing we'll have to do is shave you. My god you are a hairy man." "That I have been told. Does this mean you'll put in a good word for me?" "Well, I'll advise him to put you on the payroll. You'll need some job training before we actually use you. Oh, let's say a weeks worth?" she wickedly grinned. "Why Miss Carrie, I do believe you have ulterior motives." "Moi? No, this is for the good of the company. In the morning I'll make a few calls. You think you can this next week off at your old job?" "I'll call in the morning to put in my two weeks, and I think I have a week's worth of favors among the others." "It's settled then. In the morning we'll make our calls, get your car back to your place, surprise some store clerk with amazing amounts of shaving supplies, the biggest condoms we can find, and gallons of lube." "Then a week of bedroom antics with you? How could I resist." "It won't be all fun, you need to learn a few things. How to not cum instantly when she does for example." Carrie thought about what she just said. "Well, it will mostly be fun but not all." "Okay then, in the morning. Are you ready for another go?" "You are? I thought the guy was supposed to be the one that needed longer to recover." "You want to be on top this time or not?"