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Bad Neighbor

By: HandsInTheDark



"Please! Please, I want to so bad! PLEASE!"

I have.... Bad neighbors.

"Please, I'm sorry! Turn it off! I have to come!"

Slap.

Really bad neighbors. I don't mean the kind that takes your favorite parking space, or even kicks your cat out of the way on their way to work.

"Why aren't you allowed to come, bitch?"

"I forgot! I forgot to kiss your foot!"

"When?"

I mean the kind that have totally thrown conventional ethics aside, and practice what I guess is sexual slavery.

"I don't remember! Last -- fuck, please, NO! Last Thursday!"

This was Wednesday. She'd been there each night since then.

"Please, no! No more!"

Slap. Moaning.

"Do you like what I'm doing to your nipples, slut? That gentle squeezing... maybe if you kiss me nicely, I'll think about letting you come. Do you want to try?"

"Yes, no... please... please, no, kissing you will make me c-come -- please -- hurts -- it's too much-"

Then again, how much better was I? I was the one with a paper cup to my ear, up against the wall, listening in.

Sobbing."Please, please, just let me... let me have your cock. You like it when I come with you in- Ow!"

"Oh, you'll get cock, slutling. I've got a video for you to watch, and you'll have my cock sliding in and out of you as you watch it. It's just your kind of video... she looks about eighteen and she's in way over her head, with an older guy... she gets... persuaded."

Sobbing.

He'd moved in a month ago. He was totally hot, and the first time I'd seen him, he was carrying in an exercise machine and a huge bundle of iron bars, like it was nothing. My imagination had gone sailing, the whole rest of the day. His three neighbors -- me, Crissy across the hall and Sandra on his other side -- had gotten together to drool a little over what we'd seen. I mean, you don't date your next door neighbor, even if he's so hot you end up standing in a puddle when he walks by, but... damn.

Then I'd seen his girlfriend - gorgeous, and young - and that had cooled Sandra and me down a little. Crissy, though, was only twenty and didn't compare too badly.

But then I'd started hearing noises through the walls, and started, well, listening. And since Crissy didn't share a wall with him, I let her in on some of the details of what I was hearing. We were both pretty freaked. This guy was hardcore.

"PLEASE!"

"On your belly... good... now the handcuffs. You have a nice ass, Julie. Now the video. Watch it carefully. Isn't she pretty? Now the vibrator... look at how flirty she's being. She figures nothing is going to happen... you remember the rules, right? Once my cock is touching you, you can't make any noise, except to come. And since you aren't allowed to come...."

Sobs, then screaming, then almost inaudible moaning. Then a slow thumping... slow, but picking up speed.

I moaned, softly. I'd never been in there -- of course not - but I could picture it. Her bound body, his fist tight in her hair, holding her head up so she had to look at a screen, her hips bucking helplessly as his cock pushed in, over and over and over...

I'd started masturbating while listening. Just this week, when the really wicked denial had started. It was completely sick, coming while listening to this... I mean, Tony's -- his name was Tony -- girlfriend showed up with the occasional bruise on her ankle, but she showed up alone and she was obviously into this, so I had no right to pass judgment. But it was so fucked up. If there was any affection in their relationship, it was expressed too quietly to eavesdrop on.

And for some reason, the very sickest part was the way he had her dressing when she came over. Totally slutty. Clubwear, microskirt and halter, or painted-on body suit... he had her so well in hand that she'd appear that way inpublic, for him. No guy had ever told me how to dress.

"Do you like the way he's ripping her blouse off? The way he has her hair in his fist... the shocked look in her eyes, but look at how hard her nipples are... do you think he'll make her lick up his come, like you have to?"

Incoherent sobbing.

He was so fucking gorgeous... but evil incarnate.

+++

"Hey, Bill... is it legal to eavesdrop?"

I was at work, and Bill was ex-FBI. He knew stuff.

"Oh, baby. That's not a simple question. For the government, pretty much yes. If it has reason to do it, it can make it pass muster in court. For you, in this state, depending on circumstances... it may be legal, but you get into invasion of privacy pretty damn fast."

He called everyone female and under 40, baby. It was impossible to take offense.

"Ok, so, hypothetically... listening through an apartment wall."

He didn't even blink. "It could go either way. It would probably come down to whether someone living in an apartment really had an expectation of privacy and if they were taking steps to maintain it, like whispering. The ACLU would instantly say eavesdropping is illegal, but a judge might take a more nuanced approach. Why? Loud neighbors?"

"Kinda. Now let's assume that they aren't being quiet -- like loud arguing. And I was, say, concerned about someone's safety. And I wanted some sort of device to make listening in easier."

"Sweetheart, this ice is so thin I can hear the cracking noises. If you think someone's in an unsafe situation, call the police and let them sort it out. But the simple answer is that you won't get caught so you won't get prosecuted. If you hear something that makes you think the police need to be called, you don't have to say you were explicitly eavesdropping; just say you heard stuff through the wall involuntarily. And devices that do what you want are about 40 bucks on Amazon. You can also do stuff with tape, fishing line and a plastic cup. But the electronics will do it better."

"Okay. Thanks, Bill."

"For what? I guarantee we never had this conversation." He grinned, crookedly.

I chucked. "Thanks again."

**

So, second day shipment costs a little extra. So what? I was just... curious. Tony had instructed his girl to appear again on Sunday, and I'd have the listening device Saturday.

I knew I was being silly. The weird thing was, I wasn't into porn. Most of those videos on the internet... yuck. Fake, tawdry, unbelievably unrealistic, and way too many closeups of the mechanics. More of a turn-off than anything.

But listening in was different. Maybe it was because there was no ridiculous camera crap going on. Maybe because, being unable to see it, I was left to the mercy of my imagination. Maybe because this was, well, real.

Saturday night, I stuck the (tiny!) device to the wall, and tried it out.

It was creepy how well it worked. It was almost like being in the room with him. And from my experience in the gym, I knew immediately from the sounds, that he was working out.

I got shivers. I was being so bad. There was a word for this -- voyeurism -- and I had no idea that I leaned that way, but just listening to him working out was much, much hotter than it should have been. It was like being in junior high school all over again, spying on the jocks.

He was on a weight machine, and it was probably close to the wall because I could even hear the wheels spinning. He was doing a slow, steady pace, with a low grunt on each. It was impossible not to picture it -- he'd be wearing only shorts, building up a sweat, muscles bunched, face expressionless. Focused. Pushing himself. Legs tight.

I took out the earphones and ran to get a glass of water. When I got back, he was going faster, breathing deeply.

The fantasies started. Making that slave of his lick his sweat up as he worked. Making her sit on his legs to brace him, and making her masturbate to the sight of his hard, hot body. Damn, all those iron bars and straps... workout machines have always looked like bondage devices. Strapping her down, her legs apart, her arms bound down, and then making her watch and wait until he finished his workout...

Who was she and how had he talked her into this relationship? I knew there were women out there that liked their men strong, bad and commanding. I mean... sure. I totally got that. I was more of a wine and tickets to the theater type, myself. But I could at least see the appeal of a guy like this, even if no amount of money could tempt me into his apartment. But to get to the point where they guy controls your body, makes you worship him with foot kisses... hell, women were already way too prone to yielding control to men -- damn, I can't even believe I thought that. My mother had raised me to be a good feminist, to demand and expect equal treatment. Especially after the divorce, she'd been adamant about it. "Never give a man an inch," she'd say. "They think an inch is a foot and a foot is a mile."

When Tony's slave showed up tomorrow, I'd be able to hear every single noise. Images flashed through my head in rapid succession.

I sipped at the water, and was surprised it was already two thirds gone. Damn... I'd been listening for half an hour already.

Ohhhh -- he'd switched to sit-ups. I recognized the rhythm. It was either sit ups or pushups, and you wouldn't do pushups right after weights. Well, you might if you were Tony. Those arms...

Fuck... pushups. That body, rigid... and then the image formed: me, naked, under him as he did them. Having to kiss him each time he came down, but not allowed to do more...

I took out the earphones, very calmly and deliberately, and finished my water. This was quite enough for one evening. I put on some quiet music, and tried to read.

+++

I couldn't believe how childish I was being. Eavesdropping on sex? What was I, fifteen?

But the fact was, I was going to listen in this evening. I couldn't even pretend I wasn't. I had butterflies in my stomach over the thought. How pathetic is that?

I went for a run, just a couple miles to clear my head. It turned into five miles, a good long run for me. I got back to the apartment at around 2, puttered around, cleaning up, vacuuming... then went for a shower.

The butterflies were gone but I couldn't stop the images in my head. I was obsessing.

And then I had a wicked idea.

I was going to listen in, and it was going to make me hot. I was going to come. Why not dress for the occasion? Take a nice long shower, lotion up the skin, wear something... fun. Something Tony would appreciate if he saw it, which he wasn't ever going to. Maybe read some erotica in advance. Get myself boiling hot, even before the show started. And then, when Tony let his love slave have her orgasm -- assuming he even let her... just let myself go wild. I had that one, huge, ruthless toy, given to me as a gag a few years back. Usually it was way too much to deal with, but tonight... this might just be the night for it.

Yeah... tonight I was just going to be bad. And why not? There was no one telling me when to have orgasms. And no one would ever know.

I tend to introspect a lot, so I stopped and thought about why this seemed like such a fun idea. I mean, of course, anything that involved dressing hot was fun, but it wasn't like anyone was going to get to appreciate it. And it wasn't like I was dressing for Tony. Absolutely not. I didn't even want to imagine myself in his girlfriend's place. What they did was hot because of what happened to her, not because I imagined it happening to me. My fantasies about Tony were mostly all about him taking me to dinner. Mmm... and me wearing that black dress with the plunging neckline, and watching his eyes move over me, wanting what he wouldn't get, not that night. But making him daydream about it. Giving him a very, very inviting kiss, and then going our separate ways... knowing he'd jerk off later than night, thinking off the kiss. And oh, my, I'd seen that lump in his pants. Tony jerking off... ok, yeah, guys jerking off has always been a hot, hot turn on for me. Sneaking up on a guy who was working it. Sometimes, in that fantasy, I just watched, touching myself. Sometimes I walked over and took over for him, using my hands to work all that hard thickness, feeling it stiffen, listening to his breathing... and sometimes... sometimes he caught me watching, and then he made me... mmmm, yes. Punished for watching, and the punishment was always the same. The dress torn, my limbs tangled up in them, the panties shredding off my helpless body...

No, damnit... masturbation was going to wait. Once I started that there'd be no stopping it.

So even if it made no sense... I wanted to dress bad for my private viewing, well, listening. But I couldn't decide. Elegant or slutty? The black dress with the of-course-I'm-not-having-sex-this-evening-but-it's-fun-to-think-about panties, or that totally slutty clubwear that was basically lingerie, which I'd never had the courage to wear? Was I hot and unobtainable, or begging for it?

I couldn't decide. I showered, running my hands over my skin more slowly than cleaning required, making sure I was perfectly clean, like I was going on a date. I giggled. A date with Mr. Big, the nickname the vibrator had gotten when Kim got it for me. Kim would have understood my plans for the evening. Not that I did, exactly.

I wondered if Tony was the grabby type. Here I was, naked and soapy, with a glass door showcasing my body to anyone who walked in. Some guys would appreciate the view for the erotic thing it was, and allow me to... model myself. They'd turn it into a slow, sensual experience, with both of us anticipating the moment it stopped being looking and started being touching. Mmm... anticipating. Not many guys seemed to get that. Most would walk over, yank the door open and plant a hand on my ass. Ten out of ten for clarity of intent, but minus several billion for style. Moment ruined, no anticipating, just grab the meat. There was so much missed when it was played that way.

There was a word... irruptive. Men were irruptive. You could plan something for days, set a mood, linger on the anticipation... and they'd suddenly walk in and screw it all the hell up.

Tony struck me as more controlled. Listening to him with his girlfriend... yeah. Very much the cool, calm and in control type. He'd know when to touch and when to wait. I shivered in the warm water, remembering his slow, casual toying with his girl. What was it even like, to be her? The mind slowly shutting down, the cruel but sensual torment overwhelming every thought, the body slowly opening, yielding, the complicated feelings melting down to one pure emotion -- desire. Take me. Take me mercilessly. Right, wrong, I don't know anymore and it doesn't matter. I'm wet and I want and need to be everything you want and need. Take me. Take me now. Take me ruthlessly...

I moaned, and yanked my hand away from what it had been doing. Damn, I was in a mood this evening. Focus, Kate, focus!

I rinsed off, and toweled down, tangling my body in the thickness of the cloth - wait, had I remembered to lock the front door? Not a mistake you want to make with men like Tony in the halls! I- oh! Perfume. Should I? The Caesar's Woman? No... too intense. Not at all subtle. The Chanel? Hm, I should wear perfume more often... yes. I think just a little of the Chanel. Just a drop between the breasts. Oh, that one time I put a drop of perfume on Ken's doorknob, and then wore it for the next three days. I was never sure he'd really figured it out... but that weekend he did ask me out, so...

I fussed over the clothing choice. I was dressing for myself and I was a demanding bitch, after all. Unobtainable or eager... My hand stroked the little black dress, so formal but not at all demure...

I shivered. The dress was the wrong choice. He wouldn't like it. A little black dress is what you wear when you want to command attention. Look at me -- not a request, a demand. And that -- my shivers increased -- was not what tonight's fantasies were about. I would be demanding nothing. My hand closed on the lingerie formerly advertised as clubwear, and now I was shuddering. Putting this one was the same as begging to be used. Take me. Please take me. Please. Please touch me. Please let me be the place you play, the space you possess, the body you own. Enslave me, whatever it takes. I want that. In the black dress I'd stand and say "admire me." In this, I'd kneel and say "please... oh please... use me."

By the time I had it on, I was soaking though the panties. It didn't matter that no one was going to see it; just putting it on revealed something about me that I hadn't known. Putting it on was like being Tony's girlfriend, dressing according to the wishes of another. I looked in the mirror and gasped, softly. Tony had done this to me without even trying. No wonder his girl came to his room when, and how, he asked for her. I left the mirror a little stunned. No one was ever, ever, ever going to know about this. Fuck, what if he could read minds? No, stop it! You're shaken up enough.

I didn't know what time his girl would be over, but I figured I had at least an hour, and I had Jane In Chains waiting. Not that I needed the extra stimulation. But I was going to follow the plan and have an orgasm to end orgasms this evening. And then I'd be sane again.

I set up the stool, over by the wall. The overstuffed chair would be more comfortable, but on a stool... on a stool you have to pay attention to balance, even as you're coming. You have to keep your body tensed. And you feel very much on display and exposed, on a stool. I knew, from my rare moods like this, that it all made the orgasm more intense.

I flipped open the eReader.

"You wouldn't dare do this if you knew who my father was," I spat.

"Your father is no one, here, little girl. What matters here is what a man does, not who he is. Now hold your wrists out in front of you."

"Make me," I snarled.

The slap drove me up against the wall, and then down to my knees. The next thing I knew, my wrists were bound. Not by the leather he'd used last time. This was the coarse iron chain, the stuff it was said he used on his lowest slaves. I snarled, in furious rage. He slapped me again, and laughed.

"Wish granted. You make it a little too obvious that you like rough play, Jane."

"When my father is done with you, they will have trouble telling your spleen from your kidneys. The noble houses-"

"This is Thailand, not England, my newest little fuck slave. Let me show you the difference. In England I'd be offering you tea. Here-"

He hauled on the chain brutally, and I was suddenly on my belly, my head at his feet. He moved swiftly, his knee dropping onto the small of my bared back, pinning me down. There was a stinging sensation as the rest of my clothing was shredded off my body. And then the brutal slap of his hand on my ass. I bit my lip, to hold back the shaken cry.

"Why Jane. I can't help noticing... you're wet. I bet you were last time, too. Such a pity we were interrupted, you seemed to enjoy what I was doing to your breasts... And since you're so wet... Oh! Jane! It appears you're a virgin!"

"You wouldn't know, I doubt you've ever had one!"

His finger moved, slowly. I thrashed but there was no escape from the weight of his leg, or the grip of his massive hand.

"Unspoiled as you are, you might be worth something on the slave market... you think I wouldn't? You know what sort of life they have... taken by the worst of men, over and over... they break, Jane. They become mindless little sluts, mere beasts. I'm told you used to spy on them, and masturbate..."

His finger moved, expertly. My nipples were hard, against the cold dungeon stone. I was wet. I had to get away from him. The touch of these horrid chains on my wrists... I could not be a slave. I could not be.


Bad Neighbor Ch. 02



I'm listening again.

Only this time it's Tony and Crissy. Sweet, pretty Crissy who could have any guy she wanted, who could bat her eyelashes and get dinner, flowers, and tickets to the theater. Alone with Tony, who... I don't think he spends a lot of time in theaters.

"Am- am I late?"

"Am I slapping your ass?"

"N-no..."

"Then you aren't late. Have you been a good girl, Crissy? No masturbation at all?"

"Yes. It was hard. I... didn't realize how hard it would be."

"If it was easy I wouldn't ask you to do it. Take that top off."

"Just like that?"

"Why, do you need help with it?"

"No. No no no."

With the listening device, I can hear the soft sound as cloth hits the floor. And his chuckle.

"Good girl. Now the shorts. The high heels stay on."

"I-"

"You have a question, Crissy?"

"...No."

I hear her unzipping. She's already panting and I don't think he's touched her yet. 

"Does it feel dirty, not having the right to bra and panties?"

Oh... she's naked now. Except for high heels. Fuck. And he'd be in that muscle shirt and those tight jeans. There was a visual straight from the internet for you.

"It's just... hot. No one's ever told me how I was allowed to dress."

He chucked again, low and deep. "I can see you find it hot. Look down at your nipples."

Footsteps. He's walking around her. Examining her. 

"Kick the shorts aside and step up onto the boxes, one foot on each. Then reach up and grab that metal bar," he growls.

Suddenly, loud rattling. Oh. He's pulling a chain, raising the bar. I remember seeing hooks in the ceiling. Big strong ones. They probably weren't for potted plants after all.

"Don't let go. You have to be a little bit on tiptoes for this. It'll get tiring, so I'll try to give you something to distract you."

An unzipping noise. His jeans. Fuck.

She whimpers, softly. This is probably the first time she's seen his dick, and I know from experience it's an overwhelming discovery. I wonder if he bothered with underwear. But either way that massive monster is intimidating.

"You're..."

"Thanks for noticing. Looking forward to feeling it stretch your tight little pussy?"

I start masturbating. It suddenly doesn't matter that Crissy is my friend. I know that cock and I know what happens when you see it and think about sex. The hot, wet fear. And however terrifying it was when I saw it for the first time, thinking of Crissy feeling that same fear is unbearably erotic.

"I- um..."

"Answer!"

She whimpers again. "Yes."

"When I stand close to you like this... the smell of you, Crissy. The jasmine perfume, mixed with the hot pussy smell. It's very hard to control myself. I just want to... take. If you do anything to anger me, I will just take. That could hurt. So be very obedient."

I'm shivering and it doesn't stop. Cock as punishment. Fuck. 

"Y-Yes. I'll be good. Should I call you Sir? I- need to call you something."

He just grunted. He didn't care about titles, so he didn't answer. So fucking male. So fucking hot.

"So, I take my cock in hand... and slap it upwards, slowly. Over and over..."

"I-... Sir... that's... Oh fuck!"

"After a few days of not masturbating it gets intense, doesn't it. It will get worse. In the meantime, there's a little talk I like to give. For this talk, you just listen and feel. My hand will pet your breasts and I'll keep slapping your pussy with the head of my cock, and you will not comment or let go of that bar. Clear?"

I can hear each slow, steady thwap. I feel a tightening in my belly on each one.

"Yes. Yes. This is intense!"

"So, the talk. I'm sure you're a nice girl, Crissy. Proper, sweet, nice, all those good things. And that's the way you should be... out there. But in here you become whatever I want you to become. And I don't want a nice girl- hold still! Don't squirm. You're going to take each impact right on your clit... That's a good girl. It's your body I'm talking to right now. Bodies feel and react and there's nothing you can do about that. As I twist your nipple, you feel each slap of my cock more intensely, don't you. Nod if it's true... good girl. I'm making your body a slut, Crissy. A hot, cock-craving, desperate slut. It doesn't matter that you're a nice girl, between the ears. Every other part of you will burn and beg and offer yourself in ways you thought you'd be too ashamed even to imagine. Your body will learn to crawl to me, just to be touched. You'll beg for my cock. You won't care who sees how I toy with you, how I pin you down and fuck you with this big, hard dick. Your body will be taught to respond, and respond, and respond. It will become a wet, eager fucktoy for my rough amusemen- stay on your toes, Crissy!"

She's gasping and moaning. "It's s-so hard... my legs are shaking..."

"Let go of that bar and you'll regret it. You're here to please me, whenever and however I ask. Now the slapping gets rougher-"

I can hear the soft, wet slap of his cock on her pussy, louder and faster. I clench down.

"Why," she's whimpering. "Why do I want this so much. It's degrading, it's..."

"Repeat after me: I'm a fucktoy."

"I- no, that's wrong – shit, saying no to you is scary- this is all so intense- so-"

"Say it!"

"No, that's bad-"

A slapping noise. That wasn't his cock slapping her. She moans.

I moan as well. His large hand, her sensitive skin. Was it her ass, her breast? Her pussy? 

"Say it!"

"I'm a fucktoy," she gasps. "Please, please slow down, it's hard to think-"

"Say it: Let me please your cock."

No, Crissy, I think desperately. Don't say it. I understand this now. Once we say it aloud it becomes true. It becomes a promise and we can never forget we made it. Don't say it! Find a way to distract him!

"Ahh! Please, I'm shaking! Look at me!"

"My eyes never come off you. Let's change this up. Instead of tapping... I take my head like this, and just... rub, along your slit, over and over. Tilt your hips towards me... fuck yes, nice and slippery. I control your pussy, and your pussy controls your mind. Everything in you is melting down to one thing. Need. Need. Need."

"Just... just fuck me, you know I want it..."

Another slapping noise. Will she see handprints on her body later? What is it like, seeing the pink stain of his displeasure on your own skin, and never being able to look at his hands the same way afterwards? Being caressed by hands that aren't afraid to slap?

"I decide when that happens. And don't let go of the bar, slut! Now say it!"

Frantic moaning, and then: "Let me – let me please your cock-"

I can't stand any more. I'm masturbating frantically. My nightshirt is up around my waist and I have nothing else on, with a towel under me. I've gotten smarter. No more stool. I'm lying on a yoga mat and there's nowhere to fall.

Crissy's pretty and she has that sweet, innocent look, though she's as innocent as all that. But all her relationships have been very vanilla. Until now. We all need to be wicked once, I guess. Maybe more than once if we're honest. But there's wicked, and there's just Bad. He's Bad. He's so very, very Bad...

There's a part of me that's jealous, I admit it. I want what he does, I know that now. It just took once. It's one thing to read about the arrogant, demanding male who assumes you need what he delivers, and it turns you inside out because he's right. It's another to meet one. I've been insanely horny for the five days since I was in his apartment. Hands, cock, eyes, haunting my fantasies.

But I can't face him. The thought of his hands on me instantly makes me wet but the thought of his eyes on me, his dark smile and cold eyes, leaves me voiceless and shivering and hiding in my apartment. 

Crissy's moaning turns to a sob. "PLEASE!"

"Please what?"

"I – I don't know! I want – I- I'm used to it being different, making out, touching – I want to touch you. I want to... fuck I don't even know you and I want to, to... please you. I thought... you'd kiss me and pet me, or maybe just grab and fuck, but this is torture, I want... I want to... I don't know, I can't think!"

A dark chuckle. "But I do know. And you talk too much, Crissy. So I'm going to show you something. Ever seen a ball gag before?"

"No," she whispered. Maybe she was answering the question, maybe she was begging for him not to use it. 

I pick up my new vibrator. Guaranteed to be silent, just a low humming, but it's powerful. It slides easily into me, and I pinch my clit. Instantly I'm back on his sofa, feeling his cock push into me, trying to say No even though my body is shouting Fuck Yes. I slide it back out, turn it on, and slide it across my clit. I'm not Crissy; I can come whenever I want.

The little voice in my head tells me I'm being stupid. Getting off to this just means I'm training myself to respond to his voice and his attitudes. I know that. Every orgasm I have while hearing his voice, and all the other sounds of his ruthless domination, make me crave what he delivers, more intensely.

Crissy makes incoherent noises. He's taking away her ability to speak. Without words she's completely powerless. 

"Try to relax, slut. The gag has holes and lets you breathe just fine. It's just the words you've lost. Here's a mirror, look at yourself... I'm not a fan of gags. I like having your mouth for my cock and fingers, but until you learn to control your tongue we'll do it this way. Now, your nipple and clit at the same time - fast-"

Incoherent howling. 

My legs stiffen, and spread apart wider. I shouldn't get off to this. I shouldn't. I'm five years older than Crissy, I should be knocking on the door and getting her out of there. What kind of friend am I?

My back starts to arch. I press vibrator right below my clit. Oh fuck. Fuck!

"Now you hold completely still. Any movement means a slap on your ass."

A long moment of silence and stillness. 

Slap.

Whimper. I've never hear such an erotic whimper.

A longer moment...

Slap. 

A few seconds...

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

A soft, shaking, pathetic moan.

Slap!

She cries out, desperately, over and over. She can't form words but I know what she's trying to say. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!

"Silence."

I shudder. Women need a flow of words from other people. When men start speaking in one word sentences... it's like they are throwing their maleness in your face. They don't live and breathe words. It's all actions with them. 

"I'm going to push just the head in. Slowly. You will not squeeze down. You will not move."

Her whimpering, growing slowly louder, and more frantic. A sudden desperate wail, and a soft thumping noise.

"Caught you. Your legs just couldn't handle any more, could they." He laughed, evilly. "So now, on your hands and knees... good. That's right. Do you even realize how much your body is begging, your back arched like that to present your pussy to me? And since you're offering-"

Sudden thrashing, and something like sobbing. 

"Take it! Stop trying to crawl away. Or I'll punish you-"

Tony, punishing. Shuddering, I lose control and arch, thrashing – and the vibrator slips free and lands against the wall, trapped there by the yoga mat, buzzing and rattling against the baseboard.

I fumble for it, lose it again, grab it and turn it off... and just stare at it, horrorstricken. I cannot believe this. I can't. I'm mortified beyond belief. No. Oh no. Please no, not again.

When the polite tap comes at my door, I cringe into the floor.

The bastard goes for the doorbell next. Ding dong, and body spasms like he brushed a live wire over it.

"Go away," I whisper. He knocks again. Hard.

I yank down the night shirt and walk to the door, shaking. "I'm not at home!"

Wait, that didn't actually make sense-

"I'm opening the door, locked or not, in four... three... two..."

I open it, hiding behind it, just in case he can see through nightshirts. I mean he's seen me naked once, but that was an accident and it's not going to happen a-

He's in my apartment now, his hand is on my throat, I'm pushed up against the wall, forcefully – and his other hand slides down me, a finger pushes into me, he curls, ruthlessly. I gasp in shock, but instant and helpless arousal. 

"It's not nice to eavesdrop," he snarls. "I thought we'd been over this. You really are a bad neighbor. I guess you're just begging for another lesson."

He walked into my apartment naked, with his cock still shiny from Crissy. I can smell her perfume. I can see the dark, angry amusement in his eyes and hear the gravel in his voice. But it's all overwhelmed by his finger. It moves faster. He's nearly snarling at me. 

"Where's the vibrator. Never mind, I can see your slutty little love nest from here."

He'd walked through the hallway naked. Where is his sense of shame? And why does he even want my vib- oh. Oh no. No. Just – go back to Crissy, you left her alone, she can't be happy with that-

He collects my vibrator, grips my throat again, and just drags. It's terrifying the way he just does things, his total certainty, his I don't give a damn what you think arrogance and-

I'm in his apartment. My vibrator is in his hand, and he walks over to Crissy, who is kneeling on the floor, waiting, naked except for shiny, slutty red high heels, which match her face right now. I'm just as red. 

He drops the vibrator in front of Crissy, and fishes the ball gag out of her mouth. "You'll use this on her," he snaps. "If you want cock inside you."

"I- I can't do-" she whispers.

"You'd rather be punished in front of her?" he snarls. "I can do that."

"I- she's my friend- we're not- I can't do-"

He gets behind her, fists her pretty blonde hair, and works his cock against her slit. Her words die and her blush deepens, and then she's moaning, utterly overwhelmed. He slaps her ass and then she's crawling toward me. He gets up and takes me by the throat again – apparently his favorite handle – and pushes me to the wall, between a set of hooks.

I'm shaking too hard to even protest. My nightshirt comes off and I try to keep track of where he throws it because I've already lost clothing in here. 

Meanwhile there are cuffs on my wrists and ankles, and they snap onto the hooks. Now I'm helpless. 

"I don't generally do group play with new submissives," he grows at Crissy. "But's Kate's fascination with voyeurism needs a response. So you're going to make her come with that vibrator. No? Here's why you're going to do it – if you don't I have to punish Kate in other ways, and you'll watch it happen. You haven't seen my toy collection yet. Paddles, nipple clamps, an electroshock wand, a riding crop... should I go on?"

In just a few seconds, Crissy's imagination gets to her. Shuddering, she gets up into a kneel, turns the vibrator on and presses it against my clit.

Tony's hand traces my breasts, slowly, his fingernails scratching.

"Here's the deal, Kate. We're done pretending you're anything but fascinated by my sexuality. I told you you'd be back here, and here you are. You just can't help yourself. So now I'm just going to toy with you and show Crissy how hot and slutty you really are."

He twists my nipple, slowly. The pain of it goes straight between my legs and I thrash in my bonds, trying desperately to throw off the arousal. Crissy set the vibrator to high. I've never lasted over a minute that way but I have to fight this. I can't let Tony be right about me and especially not in front of Crissy.

His hand moves to my jaw, and he forces me to look up at him. That chiseled look, his stubble... those impossibly amused eyes. He strokes his thumb across my lips, parting them, and not letting me close them again The slow stroking.... Fuck, no! That's maddening!

His other hand slides down over my belly... pauses... caresses my thigh. I can't close my legs, I can't escape, and suddenly my hips tilt up. I didn't tell them to. My body tightens. No. Oh no.

His finger tickles my opening, in time with the thumb on my lips. It's not fair, he always gets me when I'm on the brink of orgasm and then goes into this caveman routine, grabbing me and making me. Maybe he knows what kind of books I like. He has me staring into his eyes and I don't dare look away.

His finger pushes in, slowly; at the same time his thumb pushes into my mouth. The slight saltiness of him... how easily his index finger penetrates me, and then curls, hitting that spot from the inside, the spot that makes my knees shake, and that evil, knowing smile, mocking my attempt to fight it...

Crissy whimpers again. She's turned on by the fact that I can't stop reacting and I can't look away. 

I'm beet red. I want to suck his thumb, it's the most horribly infantile need in the world. I feel my mouth soften, and then tremble from the effort of not sucking. Oh fuck, if it was his cock instead-

His hard cock rubs against my belly. I lose all control and helplessly arch into an orgasm.

He stops, leaving me shaking in need. He positions himself behind Crissy, pushes her over, plunges in – she wails – and starts thrusting, looking over her body and then mine. Sobbing, on the edge of orgasm, I watch him take her with the kind of brutal enjoyment I daydream about men having. She collapses to the floor with her face in her arms.

"No! Keep the vibrator on her. She's going to watch me come in you, feeling that."

Crissy uses her hands to crawl up my legs. Her eyes are unfocused, her lips are open, her body is responding to that impossible cock, but she forces the vibrator against me, tight – but in not quite the right place.

Fuck! 

He pounds her, and her body is sandwiched between us. She's staring at my belly as it convulses. 

Tony stares at her back, and then at my breasts and face – and comes, muscles bunching, hips working her, face growing if anything more darkly attractive.

She thrashes, not coming, just unable to process his orgasm and his rough handling of her. The vibrator slides over my clit, and off again. I howl in frustration. 

As his finishes with her, he stands up, panting, and splatters a last spurt into her hair and my belly.

He picks up the vibrator, turns it off, and fetches a cord from a drawer. I'm struck by the fact that he does things, and we simply wait. We're too overwhelmed to speak or interfere.

He slides the vibrator into me, and then knots the cord around it and loops it around two of the hooks. It won't fall out.

Then he scoops Crissy up as if she was a toy doll, and carries her to the couch. He sits, with her in his lap.

"Ignore Kate," he tells her. "You are here for me, to be taught by me and toyed with by me."

"B-but you just came. You're d-done."

"You don't decide when I'm done."

He parts his legs, and takes her hair in his hand, positioning her so her back is to him and her head is held back against his shoulder. I try not to whimper in frustration, or to stare.

"I know you want to come, little one," he says. "Your body is confused and needy. But you need to learn to come when I want it to. So..."

One of his hands settles between her legs. The other is over a breast, and his mouth moves against a spot between her neck and shoulder. "You're going to be touched. You won't try to curl or hide your body in any way. Close your eyes and imagine the sound of me cumming. Play it over and over in your head."

He toys with her. He doesn't make the mistake of being too gentle. It's slow, but firm. Her body is left in no doubt about anything. Clit, slit, nipples, all toyed with by his demanding, powerful hands. And now she has time to think and feel, which I know is going to be her undoing. Imagination is what makes us all fall apart.

He edges her for fifteen minutes – I can see the clock. Every time she gets close, I'm squeezing down frantically on the toy up inside me, in some sort of weird sympathy. I need just a little bit of attention on my clit to get off – a single fingertip for a few seconds would do it – instead, I just... burn.




Bad Neighbor Ch. 02



On her third denied orgasm, her eyes go glassy. She's given up; she's completely obedient now. Somehow that's too intense to look at, and I close my eyes, shaking. But not before I saw the dark, ruthless smile on Tony's face. The look of conquest, achieved.

At the end of the fifteen minutes, he stops, and kisses her – which surprises me. It's not an affectionate kiss but it's at least a kiss, and it leaves her head swimming.

"Look at my cock," he murmurs. She does, suddenly mesmerized by the hardness, swallowing, panting frantically-

Then, suddenly and ruthlessly, he lifts her, pulls her down again, forcing his cock up inside her and working her clit until she comes, screaming and sobbing.

And then does it again.

And again. She thrashes so hard a shoe falls off.

And then masturbates himself with the head of his cock still inside her, and makes himself come as she's still shuddering from her orgasms.

She's literally too shaken by the events to stand or speak, so he helps her dress. He doesn't do a very neat job of it – she's disheveled, he tied her halter top too tight and it's showing off her nipples, and the shorts are uneven on her hips. Unconsciously her hand goes to her shorts to straighten them, but he grips her wrist and she gives up. Then he pulls on shorts and marches her back to her apartment. He's gone about five minutes.

Then he's back, and looking at me. That unpleasant smile is back.

"What," he says, darkly, "the fuck is your problem?"

+++

I'm wordless. He continues to stare at me.

"You know the sort of things I like. And it's obvious what you like. You could knock on my damn door if you want to watch, you know. You don't have to make a fool of yourself with microphones and vibrators. But no, you're a good girl who never thinks about sex as far as anyone else knows, and certainly never wants to watch any, and you've never had sex with a stranger in your life... oh, and you can't keep your hands off yourself when I get up to what I do."

I'm beet red again. It's not like he's wrong. 

"You're so turned on I can see your toes curling. You're trying not to squeeze down on that vibrator because I'll know. Speaking of which-"

He reaches over, readjusts the vibrator, and turns it on. Then his hands go to my breasts, gripping, with his thumbs moving over the nipples. He has large hands and they are not gentle. My clit is screaming for attention with every rough stroke of his thumbs.

"You're embarrassed because Crissy saw how you reacted. That got you hotter. You're turned on by shame... aren't you."

I whimper, face burning.

His hand leaves my breast and takes my hair, and he pulls it straight up against the wall, pinning my head against it. "I asked you a question."

"Please stop," I whisper. "I just want to come. I didn't mean to... I didn't let you hear on purpose. I have to come. I have to. I've been so horny..."

"Ever since I fucked you in front of someone else. You're a shame slut. You want everyone to know how slutty you are. Admit it." His other hand moves slowly down, over my belly. 

"No. No. Stop that!"

His fingertips brush over the sensitive, warm place just above my clit. I'm trembling, part need, and part form the wash of fear from telling him what to do.

"So when I touch you... there... you'll start begging, won't you."

"I'll – I'll just come – stop it- please stop-"

"Come? Without permission, in my apartment? You know better. You're afraid to." He laughs darkly, and a fingertip traces over my clit for just a moment. 

I try to think about something else. Anything but his finger, resting cruelly on my clit.

"You shouldn't be... I mean, Crissy. She's not... she's... you're going to make her a... stop that! Fuck I can't think anymore! I need to come!"

His finger starts feather light movement, making quick, tight little circles. "How do you ask."

"I'm not your obedient f-fuck slave, I- I- "

Flick!

"PLEASE! FUCK PLEASE I WANT TO COME!"

"One finger, Kate. I control your mind and body with one finger. I can get you so close you literally can't breathe. Watch. Feel."

I watched him edge Crissy, and what it did to her. I can't let him do that to me. 

"I just... need to come. I said please. Please let me. Please. I... you're... please! PLEASE!"

He's tapping my clit with a fingernail. Flick. Flick. Flick. It's devastating. My entire body tightens, over and over. I want to look at his cock, but he won't let me lower my head. All I can see is his face and chest. Muscular, massive... his eyes are utterly focused on me. Examining me. Learning me.

"But how badly do you need it? What will you do to get it? Let me tell you what I want. You're going to lick Crissy off my cock until I'm hard again, bend over the couch, and let me take you from behind. Then you'll lick yourself off my cock and I'll make you come, over and over, just orgasm after orgasm after-"

I've gotten the point where I can come from the vibrator inside me alone. I squeeze down, over and over, hard-

He catches me at it, pulls the vibrator out of the knot he had it in, and then holds it over my clit. "And maybe I'll put you on camera for Crissy to watch-" 

"Oh FUCK! STOP! STOP PLEASE STOP!"

"Lick, fuck, lick, come come come. It's not complicated, Kate. Or I can just keep edging you because let's face it, I enjoy it and you'll find it addicting. You're already getting addicted to the things I do, you can feel it, can't you..."

I last almost three minutes. In the end he forces his tongue into my mouth, and I... break. I whisper against his lips, "I'll do it... I'll do what you want."

Immediately he unhooks me, and brings me to a kneel. My mouth moves over his cock. My face is burning in shame, and I try not to think about how I look. You really can taste another woman on a cock, but I don't let myself think about that either. Or about what it does to me. I don't let myself wonder about how many women he's... fuck. Oh fuck. That shouldn't be hot, but it is, and the way I'm suddenly licking and sucking and aching is humiliating. 

He's right. The more shamefully I act for him, the hotter I become. My sucking becomes frantic and now I'm rubbing my body against him. 

Then he spins me around, and he pushes in. Huge. So huge. I'm shuddering, trying instinctively to crawl away, but he doesn't allow it. He pounds me, gripping me, but before I can get off he's out again, my hand guides my mouth back to him and now I'm licking myself off him. My tongue moves over his shaft and balls. My lips form an O and massage the head of his cock. I can't get enough.

He wins. I'll do anything he asks and he knows it. I cannot do anything but what he wants, and my breathing is a fast, shallow noise.

He positions me the way he positioned Crissy, reverse cowgirl, facing away, cock stuffed inside me. Because of his size and the way he pushes me from inside, his touch on my clit is pure fire. He grips my throat and forces me to twist around and kiss him.

My mouth forced tight against his, his tongue in my mouth, my back tight against the rigid muscle of his chest... the orgasms start. 

He plays me like an instrument. My orgasms last as long as he wants them to, and start and stop when he wants them to. After the third, my body is nerveless and I'm gasping for air.

Then he makes me lick his chest, hands, and feet. I do anything he demand, shattered by his mercilessness. I ache everywhere. I'm slick from my pussy to my knees, sweaty elsewhere. My limbs don't work.

He slides me to the floor. "See yourself out. Oh... if I catch you listening again... let's just say I'll be knocking on your door quite a lot. I'll enslave you. You can ask Crissy about what that's like in a few weeks, because that's where she's headed. I do take decent care of my toys... but you strike me as the kind that's ashamed of own darkness. So think carefully. The addiction will hit you harder than most because that's what happens when shame and arousal meet in women like you."

I find my nightshirt and slink out, steadying myself on the walls. I'll never eavesdrop again. I mustn't and I won't. Never, ever again.

+++

"FUCK PLEASE! PLEASE! IT HURTS, I... I'M COMING! FUCK! FUCK!"

"Again, Crissy! I want Kate to hear you."

"FUUUUCK! NO MORE! PLEASE, FUCK, PLEASE! I CAN'T STOP COMING!"

I'm shuddering. I'm soaked. I don't need a microphone to hear it; he has Crissy shrieking. Faintly, I hear Julie giggling, and then crying out as she's slapped.

I go to the bedroom to masturbate, lie down on the bed, and open my legs. 

I hear his voice, in my imagination, mocking me. You could knock on my damn door if you want to watch, you know.

My legs open wider. I whimper, fingers thrusting inside me, remembering the salty taste of his chest, the size of his hands and cock, the darkness of his eyes... I'm burning with the humiliation of it all. He knows I want it. I want him to be wrong about me... but he isn't. My toes point, my legs tense, I lift my hips up. He knows. Oh fuck, he knows too much now...



Bad Neighbor



"But no. As much fun as it would be to sell you, broken and well used, back to your father, a young English noblewoman like yourself deserves more refined treatment. You'll only be used by the rich and powerful. And you'll come to be thankful."

His finger worked me ruthlessly... he knew me too well. He already knew how I responded to the sight of shame and rough treatment. The more flagrant the violation and abuse, the hotter it made me. And now we both knew it worked on me, even when I was the victim.

I gasped as he caught my clitoris in a brutal grip. My legs trembled. I knew how it would happen. He'd force me to orgasm, just to shame me, and as I weltered in that shame... that's when his brutal manhood would force into me. He'd make me watch as he pushed in... he'd make me lick his cock clean, and then go back to plundering me...

"Since this is your first time, Jane.... I'm going to make it a special occasion. I will bring in an unspoiled slave girl, a very pretty one... and let her be taken by one of my men. I will make you masturbate to the sight of it, and when you come... then, and only then, Jane, I will teach you what being a woman means..."

I closed the eReader, shaking. Okay, that was a little too intense. Tony wasn't that bad. If he was I'd have moved out of here. Sure, every woman knows the appeal of a ruthless, merciless, demanding, arrogant man, a man who decides what he wants and takes it with no regard for any woman's wishes. Virile and polite... we pretend, sometimes, that they can co-exist, but deep down we know that they don't, and deeper down, we know which one we really prefer. We want that special ruthlessness that drives us, sobbing, to our knees. We may tell ourselves we don't, and even believe it, but it's the worst of men that make us... ache.

But still... there's a limit. We still need at least the veneer of civility. No woman wants to be forced to acknowledge that she's openly attracted to the worst man in the world. We need our bad men to be sugar-coated, so we can take a little taste and believe, hypocritically believe, he's not so bad. But deep down, we know. We know the sugar-coating is a lie. We know we want what lies underneath, and we shiver, anticipating, the moment it emerges and claims us.

I opened the eReader and switched to the somewhat tamer Becoming Marie. The scene where Marie goes to Sito... I was aching when I finished it. A man who knows what he wants, and is utterly unapologetic about taking it, but still has room for a gentle kiss. Even if you're never completely sure if the kiss is genuine affection, or just another trick to pull you in deeper.

I looked down over my body. My clit was a visible swelling in the wet, translucent panties. Touch Me Here. I was panting. My nipples were two cones, inviting fingers and teeth. My legs twined around the stool, taut, and suggestive of bondage and entrapment. As a teen I'd practiced poses like this in a mirror, but the reality is, they come out whether you practice them or not, when you're hot enough. My body already knew how to beg.

I hooked up the microphones and stuck them to the wall. I decided I had to be done reading for now. Any more, and I'd simply masturbate and come.

I remembered Tony's girlfriend sobbing in need. I realized I had no idea what it was like to need to come and be told no. All my guys had wanted me to have orgasms, and the faster the better. What was it like, to need to so badly, and not?

Tentatively, and knowing I was being silly, I touched my clit, lightly, through the warm, wet cloth. Yes! My body screamed, and the buildup started immediately. This was where I'd always either stopped, or just pushed straight through to the orgasm. I rocked it back and forth, lightly... fireworks. Oh fuck! FUCK this was good. Fuck, I'm already right there! Yes! I want it!

I pulled my hand away, and oh gods. I burned. Every inch of me screamed, and it was impossible to think. I clenched my fists to stop myself, and my belly was so tight it ached. I could feel my racing pulse in my clit and nipples, even in my lips. He'd left her in this state for minutes. Bound. With his hard cock where she could see it, maybe pressing it against her lips when she was silently howling for it to be the only place that mattered...

I could never be her, I knew. I'd end up trembling and sobbing and shamefully begging, and I could not do that. And then that scene on Jane in Chains occurred to me, Jane on her belly with the chain on her wrist, telling herself she could not be slave, and knowing that she already was...

Overload. Rational thought went away for a bit. I was unable to put my emotions together, to integrate everything. I was torn by the most horrible ache to be Jane, freedom stripped away, replaced by the most shameful, abandoned sexual intensity imaginable; and my need to be Kate, a reserved woman who valued her desire to be in control and able to come whenever she liked, like right now if I wanted to, and I wanted to, so badly I was shaking and sweating, but Tony wouldn't like it, and no one must ever know just how hot I found that thought, Tony angry with me and ready to punish...

My hand slid down again.

What snapped me out of it was a sound in the earphones. A door. Tony's guest had arrived.

The butterflies were back.

I heard him speak, clearly. "Welcome, Crissy."

My heart stopped. His girl's name was Julie. Not Crissy. Crissy was my neighbor across the hall.

I had to get her out of there! Did she have any idea what he was like? We'd talked about Tony! She-

"Am I... am I on time?"

"Of course."

I sat back down. First of all, there was no way I was going over there dressed like this. Second, this was obviously arranged. Shit, this was so wrong. Crissy was a nice girl.

"I'm... frightened."

"No. You're nervous. If you were truly frightened, you'd leave."

"So you know my emotions better than I do?"

"You'll be surprised at how often that turns out to be true, as we... advance. But let's start very simply, since this is your first, brief visit. Remove the blouse."

Crissy, get out of there. Get out. You haven't heard what he puts Julie through. We've talked about it but you haven't heard it. If you'd heard it you really would be frightened.

I had to intervene. I grabbed the cell phone, turned it on... damnit why are these things so slow to wake up?

"I... that's a lot to ask."

"Do it now, or leave. This was your idea, Crissy. And you knew what it entailed. Take it off, or we're done."

Damn it damn it damn it- Signal! Dial! Ringing! Pick up damn it!

"*giggle* I'm not available to take your call. At the beep-"

I slammed it shut. Calling her would have meant explaining how I knew she was there anyway. Gods, she'd walked in there without her phone. He'd probably demanded that.

"Now the bra."

She was panting, softly. It was too shocking to be hot, but my body reacted to the sound of her breathing, even though my mind was way too busy to care.

"I- shit, this is intense..."

"Yes. You look good, Crissy. Now walk up to me, and turn around."

"You're going to t-touch me..."

"Yes."

How long had they been talking? Shit, was this my fault? I'd told her he was bad, maybe I'd made it sound appealing.

"As I touch your breasts, focus on what you're doing. You're letting me touch you. Focus on how your body reacts to that."

Slowly, her panting increased. Then a soft moan. Fuck, my nipples were throbbing in sympathy.

"I'm going to squeeze down... you won't make any noise when I do. Not even a gasp. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Her breathing suddenly turned ragged. So did mine.

"Good... you're very, very aroused. So we need to set some rules. You may no longer masturbate, unless I say so. I don't care who you date and what you do with them... but when you are alone, you have a no-touch rule. I recommend you find someone to go out with this evening, because if you stay at home that No Touch rule will start to drive you insane."

She moaned, softly.

"A fair start. We're done here. You may go."

"That's... it?"

"For now. I have someone stopping by shortly and I guarantee you don't want to stay for it. And you need to take slow steps to get to where you're going. Believe me, this went well. Oh -- leave the bra here, just put the blouse back on. You'll spend the day like that, even if you go out. Do you understand?"

"Um. Yes."

"Good afternoon, then."

She was still panting when, a few seconds later, she left.

Shit shit shit... I'd talk to her. Not tonight. But soon, I had to.

Fuck I was so turned on! I was trembling. He was evil, he could talk women into things, soon it would be Crissy, moaning, bound, begging... she was just twenty. She didn't understand what bad men could do.

Oh fuck, I need to come. So bad. So very, very bad...

I took a slow, deep breath. Tony's girlfriend would be over soon. And she was really in for it...

Touching myself and then stopping had been a mistake. I could barely think, and every time I looked over myself, dressed as I was, fireworks went off in my brain. A blur of images went through my head -- Tony touching me, Tony banging Julie, Tony running his hands over Crissy's breasts. Tony holding my legs apart, smiling darkly, with a monster erection in his shorts. Fuck, he'd just been handling Crissy, and he'd be so hard. I'm not one for obsessing over the shape of a cock, but I wanted to know what his looked like. That tentpole of a cock, making the thin exercise shorts stretch, the details showing through the thin cloth. Demanding to be touched, licked, sucked on. And if I was curious... as horny as he probably was, all I'd have to do is knock on his door dressed like this. One look and he'd pull me through the door, slam it closed, push me up against it and rip down my panties. That would sting... oh fuck yes. What is it about a little bit of pain, to convince you that the man means business and you'd better just... give him whatever he wanted?... oh fuck, my clit. And that monster vibrator just sitting there. Fuck, it would all be over in about two seconds if I turned that on.

Moaning softly, I pulled the panties down just below my knees. Now I couldn't run. If he caught me this way... fuck, this was insane. I was turned on enough. I'd just masturbate and come, soon. Very soon.

I drew one leg up, so now the panties were around one knee and one ankle, and looked over at the mirror. Oh, he'd like this. His fist would be in my hair and my head would be yanked back, and the kiss I got would be no gentle, teasing thing, but the rough abuse of a predator, feeding on the helpless. His eyes would wander over me, his eyes dark and mocking. My nipples, begging. Wetness tricking very slowly across my thigh. My lips, wet from licking. His hand, ripping his shorts down, then grabbing me around the small of the waist, and ruthlessly impaling me on that cock, my body half-off the stool, my arms wrapping around him for support, and his sounds as he ruthlessly thrust into me. And oh gods, if he told me not to come then... I'd cry, beg, offer anything. Anything.

And Crissy, right now... Tony wore cologne. The scent of it would be on her breasts; she wouldn't be able to ignore it. A constant reminder of the way she'd gone to him and been touched by him. Would she masturbate? She could - he'd never know, really. But I knew, she wouldn't. She'd be unable to stop herself from doing the best thing in the world, anticipating what would happen next time. Playing scenarios in her head. Deliberately putting off the orgasm. Picturing his hands, his lips, that sculpted torso, that huge, hungry cock-

I heard a knock, and moaned involuntarily. That would be Julie. I heard the door opening, and I think I whimpered.

"You're early," his voice rumbled. "Getting impatient?"

"You're a fiend," Julie whispered. "Making me masturbate all morning... you're a monster. I almost went off the road, coming over. Please, Tony-"

A sudden thump, so loud I almost fell off the stool. He'd slammed her body against the wall. His voice was a low, evil hiss.

"This evening, it's Master. Clear?"

"Oh no... yes... yes Master. I'll be good. I'll be so good...."

"Naked. Now."

She compiled, her body shifting against the wall. He chuckled, soft and low.

"How many times can my slave come for me?"

"As... as many times as m-my master requires," she whispered. It sounded like a rehearsed line. From the erotic terror in her voice, I guessed that this Master stuff only came out when she was really in for it. Fuck, orgasms could become a punishment if you weren't allowed to stop. I'd read about it. Lots of times.

"Kneel and lick my feet."

Humiliating, wrong and hot. Her body kneeling down, bending over, to... worship. That was the only word for it. She'd feel the weight of her breasts dangling, the movement of her hair, and then taste the salt from his skin... every inch of her in obedience. I touched my clit helplessly, and then stopped again, nearly sobbing. Soon. Very soon.

"Good. Now, palms and nipples to the wall. Ass out. Tiptoes, legs tight. And complete silence."

"Tony, please-!"

A slapping noise. And then she was against the wall, and from the sound of it, right across from the microphone. I could hear every tear in her voice, every whimper, I heard the very soft thump as she pressed her breasts against the wall, and then her animal, slutty moan. There was fear in that moan, and it set off fireworks in my belly.

It was so intimate and close it was shocking. I'm not especially bi, but having her practically in my lap like this was bizarrely erotic. Because he'd forced it on her. Oh fuck, imagine if he'd really forced her across my lap while he fucked her, making me watch, and then kissing my mouth as he plowed her...

I didn't dare whimper. She was right though the wall, after all, and might hear me. Oh fuck I had not planned this out very well, I would going to have to be completely silent when I came, oh shit I'd never be able to-

"Cock time, my slave. You won't come. Yet. When the time for that comes you'll get plenty."

And a part of me turned catty and vicious. Now you get punish-fucked, I thought, and that's what you get for dating Tony. You don't know where his hands were last, feeling up Crissy's sweet young body, he's fucking you with the erection he got from her, you slut-

Another slapping noise, and I shuddered. That should not be a hot noise. It should be bad. Oh fuck. It was bad, bad and hot.

"Higher," he growled. I could picture it... her ass pushed out, tilted up; she'd be in high heels and straining to offer herself, giving him his choice of ass or slit, and when he took her, her nipples would be ground against the wall.

Then she gave that sound... the soft, wet gasp of indrawn breath, the faint half-buried cry; every woman knows it, the involuntary sound you make when your head tilts back and your body gives that delicious, uncontrollable, erotic spasm, as the man's cock presses in just the right spot and starts to force itself in-

Shuddering, I picked up the vibrator and forced it against my slit. Not my clit, because I'd have screamed, and I didn't dare turn it on. It was too big to fit without effort, but I pressed it hard, and it was like electric shocks. Tony's cock, forcing into me. I bit my lip to stop the moaning.

"Now masturbate," he growled, and for a horrified second I thought he'd spoken to me. She cried out.

"Big! So big! Please. Please no! It aches! If I touch myself now I'll-"

"DO IT!"

His voice crackled with fury, and my knees went weak. My finger went to my clit and I forced the brutal toy in, but I didn't come, I didn't come, I was a good girl and I'd obey him and I wouldn't dare come, but oh shit-

"Please," she sobbed. "You know I'll do anything for you."

He was thrusting into her, and she was spasming helplessly against the wall, crying out.

"Let's fuck around with your nipples, shall we?"

My legs shuddered in the air, fuck, his hands were like six inches from my body right now. Oh fuck, oh fuck, his hands... I turned my body and pressed my nipples against the wall, and squeezed down, and my belly was so tight, and my clit wanted it on, no more teasing, on now, on now-

"Do you want to come, slave?"

"I'm- I'm afraid -- that I won't be -- allowed to --so afraid - you'll say no at the last -- please -- please -- going craz -- let me, please please let me, PLEASE! Anything! I'm yours! Master I must! Too much! Too much!"

"Five," he whispered, slowly and mockingly. "Four."

She was sobbing frantically. "Yes -- yes -- please yes-"

The vibrator was on and grinding against my clit. Every inch of me went insane-

"Three. Good fuck slave. Two-"

"MASTER! MUST! MUST!"

I arched, mindlessly. One was a year away and the orgasm was now. I forced the huge toy in and out and worked my clit with my fingers and bit my lip and exploded in blinding slutty perfect pleasure-

And crashed to the floor, the stool smashing against the wall. I convulsed for a few seconds before I really even registered what had happened. I'd lost my balance, and was on my ass on the floor, still fucking myself with the toy, sobbing.

And... holy shit. He might have heard that. I mean... half the building had probably heard that and he was six inches away, so he probably really had heard that. I'd never be able to step out of this apartment again. I'd have to learn his schedule so I never, never, never ran into him. Because I'd die.

Faintly, I heard a doorknob rattle. Suddenly my blood was like icewater. He... wouldn't! And oh... oh no... I'd thought about checking my door to see if I'd locked it, but had I done it? I had to get to that door-

But I was too late. The rattling hadn't been his doorknob... it had been mine. The door swung open, and there he was. Smiling.

He'd figured it out, moved with the speed of a panther, and he'd even had time to pull his shorts back on. Before I'd been able to, say, get off the floor, hide the vibrator I was still clutching in my stunned hand, remove the microphone, hide the stool, put a robe on, and pretend I'd had the TV on too loud or something.

Then he was standing over me.

"Uh... Hello, neighbor," I said, but it was only a whisper. If there was a color beyond red, my skin had found it. I nonchalantly moved the vibrator behind my back, managing to drop it in the process.

"You'd crashed my little party, I see," he said. His voice was that deep, gravelly sound that had always done wonders for my mood. It was doing wonders for my mood now, but the wrong kind of wonders. I couldn't speak. I just nodded. There was one good thing about this; I'd never in my life ever have a day worse than this one.

"But I'm a forgiving and gracious host, and I don't mind," he continued. "In fact... I insist you fully join in."

"The stool broke," I said. "Cheap IKEA stuff. Um... I'm Crate. Uh, Kate. We raven't heally met."

Thankfully, he didn't appear to hear a word of this. He was examining the microphones, one of which was still stuck to the wall. One earbud was still in my ear; the other, I realized, had fallen into my delightfully Chanel-scented cleavage. I'd been perched on a stool. What the hell had I been thinking, exactly?

Wait. What had he said about joiningin? Had I heard that right, and what...precisely... did that... mean?

"Excuse me," I said. "But when you sai-"




Bad Neighbor



Suddenly I was on my feet, feeling a brief and unfamiliar stinging pain. I was very suddenly up against the wall, with his hand on my throat; I think he'd pulled me up by it but I wasn't completely sure, because I was still stuck on the part where he was walking in and catching me, while he had moved on.

His mouth closed over mine. Apparently he was kissing me. Roughly.

Oh. That was... unexpected. Oh. Oh my.

My brain tried to catch up with the events of the moment. I was in lingerie and he was kissing me.

But then we were walking, and his huge, warm hand was wrapped around my thin, tiny, shivering wrist. I was having trouble keeping my balance, because I was still stuck on the part where his lips had been moving hotly against my completely frozen ones, and he'd moved on to the part where I was being dragged out of my apartment and into his.

Wait. No. I couldn't leave my apartment dressed like this. And I certainly couldn't possibly be entering his apartment because I knew exactly what went on in here and there was no chance I could cope with any of it. None at all.

"She's pretty," said Julie. "Crissy's prettier, but... I think I like this one."

The door slammed behind me, and I heard it lock.

+++

"Hi," I said. It came out as barely a whisper.

I was still in shock, and trying to cope with the worst case of I-need-to-die-now ever. But even through the shock, the half-finished orgasm, and the impossible embarrassment, what registered the strongest was the size of the package Tony had in those shorts. When he'd been in my apartment it had all been hidden from sight, but now the head had forced itself out of the waistband. The head was nearly the size of my fist.

My eyes swiveled helplessly to Julie. She was curvy, but small. "Too big," she'd moaned. I shuddered, my eyes moving back to him. There's sexy big and then there's just scary. I had to get out of here.

He saw where I was staring, and jerked his shorts down, kicking them away. The bastard had Eric Bana's face, a muscular physique, legs like brass pillars and a cock that didn't look human. I closed my eyes but the image was burned into my imagination. That had to be photoshop -- shit, what was I thinking?

Closing my eyes had been a mistake. Suddenly his hands were on me and my clothing was falling away. I opened my eyes and shrieked, but one massive hand went over my mouth.

"No, Kate," he hissed. "You went to a lot of trouble to pretend you were in here, what with the microphones and the biggest toy you could find. So now your wish is granted. I'm going to fulfill every fantasy you were having... and I know what they were. But you will not scream, or the darkness of your fantasies will be the least of your concerns. Are we clear? In this room, you will be obedient."

He reached down and grabbed that enormous cock, and pushed it between my legs -- and then yanked it up, sharply, so that it slapped against my slit.

My knees went weak. You need to understand the state I was in. I'd been starting a monster orgasm when I'd been dragged in here, and ragingly horny all day. Now I was trapped in a corner of his room with his hand over my mouth, my ankles tangled in my sluttiest outfit and my naked, perfumed body shivering in shock. The terror I should have been feeling was blurred by that shock, but it did nothing to quell my body's desire for relief, not with his pure animal sexuality just three inches away. His cologne was around me and my belly was fireworks. He was huge, insistent, hard. I was naked, wet, helpless. My body knew how that combination ended.

It slapped up against me again, and my knees gave way, making me sink back against the wall. His hand moved from over my mouth, to gripping my throat, with his thumb over my windpipe, and my hips tilted up and forward in response. He had my throat; I was helpless. I had to give him whatever he wanted or... I didn't know what. I had to give him what he wanted.

Then I was being dragged to my knees, and... it was right there. I couldn't look away. I was licking my lips and making a soft whimpering noise and staring. It was huge.

"Oh, Tony," Julie purred. "Her jaws will ache for a week. It's cruel."

I'd like to say that I didn't understand why Julie was so turned on by what was happening to me, but I'd been panting over her near-rape, over Jane's abject humiliation, over Vela's utterly enslaved state, over the plight of every female who was made to do it in every wicked, bad, wrong story I'd read, since I was fifteen. I understood all too well.

Tony's arm shot out, and Julie's hair was suddenly a cord in his fist. Effortlessly he moved that fist to his hip, leaving her in a clumsy half-crouch, whimpering.

"My slave forgets herself. Lick her feet, Julie, and masturbate to the noises she's making." His hand went to the top of her head and then she was sprawled on the floor, her tongue moving between my toes. "And you, Kate... lick my cock, up and down."

"Please," I half-sobbed. "I didn't mean-"

"Kate," Julie whispered softly to my foot, and the fear was back in her voice. "Don't disobey. Don't. We'll both suffer. Just... lick. You have to."

Shaking violently, I licked. But this wasn't really happening. I wasn't naked and kneeling in a corner in a locked room. I wasn't licking the biggest, scariest erection I'd ever seen. I wasn't moaning in fear with thighs slippery and wet from my need. I was a good girl. I liked dinner dates and little black dresses and men who held doors open for me and only kissed my nipples when I said they could. I wasn't suddenly being forced to lick balls the size of large lemons, or running shaking hands along the back of this man's calves, feeling the cords of muscle there. I wasn't moaning. And then I wasn't pressing my open mouth against the underside of the head of his cock, that special place that makes men need to fuck. I wasn't... wasn't... silently begging for rape. Oh fuck, his precum trickling over my face. The smell of him, his hand on the back of my neck, my utter, abject weakness and helplessness-

Julie sobbed, pathetically. She's been a second from orgasm when I'd fucked up and intruded. Now she was back to masturbating. She was trembling.

"Mmm," Tony said. "Hear that, Kate? My slave is in pain. Should I make it stop?"

I shuddered, licking faster. And then I was looking into his eyes, his implacable, beautiful, heartlessly cold eyes.

"Questions are to be answered," he said in an icy voice, tightening his grip on my skull.

"Y-yes," I whispered. There was a small part of me that would have liked to have been catty and say no, and watched Julie suffer a little more, but I was in over my head here and didn't dare tick off either of them.

"Hm, she likes you, Julie... now listen carefully, Kate. You're going to take Julie over the couch, and position her kneeling on the cushions, leaning over torso the back. Ass up and out. Pose her so she's pretty and inviting for me. You're going to hold her wrists down as I push into her, and you're going to watch it happening. Then you're going to masturbate, as I fuck her senseless. When she starts to come, you'll stop and cradle her head on your breasts, and stroke her hair, because sometimes she gets a little... lost... at those times. Go."

And I walked over to the couch with Julie, and watched myself position her as I thought Tony would like her. She was so pretty and she was going to have that immense cock up inside her... this was so sick. That long-ago little tingle I'd felt when I'd posed a Barbie doll for Ken's use, but magnified a thousandfold...

I got behind the couch and took her wrists. She looked up at me with wide, staring eyes... "Thank you," she whispered.

And then Tony was behind her, his hands on her hips. He lifted them, and pressed against her...

That noise. Julie's head tiled up and back and she gave that soft gasp, with terror and longing and submission in her eyes. And then her shuddering began. Tony pushed, sinking in, inch by cruel inch. Her shudders turned to thrashing, and her eyes became wide and staring. "Hurts," she whispered. "Hurts. Too big. Too big! Make him stop! I'm little... I can't... I can't... stop... fuck... fuck... fuck! Oh FUCK!"

His hand was in her hair now, and laughing, he simply impaled her. She screamed, overloaded, trying to crawl away from him, but his grip kept her in place. Shaking, I masturbated to the shifting emotions on her face. Fear, then pain, then submission and lust, then desperation... and then the pleading began. "Please... have to come... have to... Master. Master! I have to! HAVE TO! Please, anything! Anything!"

He took his time, and I watched him, reveling in her. I have never seen anything that looked as evil, and as right, as what he did to her. She was made for this and he knew what to do with that.

"Anything?" He growled, panting in need.

"YES FUCK YES PLEASE!"

"Then come."

Her face just... I can't describe it. It was suddenly lost, confused, almost childish, as if she couldn't understand and couldn't absorb the wracking sensation. I cradled her head against my breast, and she nuzzled against my nipple, totally infantilized by the intensity...and then she came, violently, her face buried against me, her eyes sightless Tony pounded her brutally, the thrusts making her whole body toss. When her frantic shuddering stopped, she began sobbing again.

I was shaking. He hadn't come. Oh fuck.

"Again," Tony growled, panting. I have never seen more evil eyes. Julie immediately tensed again. She came when told to. It was that simple. She thrashed on the end of his cock, moaning pathetically, and then slumped, spent.

He looked at me, shoved Julie aside, and pointed to where she had been.

"It's better if you kneel here willingly. But you will kneel here either way. Now."

"Please, no," I whispered. "Please n-"

Next thing I knew I was spilled onto the couch with my hair in his hand. Long hair is nothing but a handle, I realized. We grow it out so we can be caught. In how many ways had I been secretly pleading for this?

To my surprise there was a pause, and I looked back. He was pulling on a condom. It didn't completely cover him and was stretched so tight... I moaned and closed my eyes, choking back words that would only have made it worse.

And then my body arched, and I made the noise... he started pushing in and it was overwhelming. I thrashed uncontrollably, arching my back for him, begging for mercy, but he just kept going deeper, inch after inch, stretching me. "Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! Please no!"

I was going to come. I desperately didn't want to because... because it meant he had me, because it meant he was in control of me. No, I mustn't!

And then Julie slithered over and put her lips to my ear, and whispered "Don't come until he lets you. He'll... punish... if you give in. Fight it. He likes that..."

And then, very lightly and slowly, she licked the inside of my ear.

Sobbing, I slid towards orgasm. I'd kill her later, right now her boyfriend's huge cock was brutally forcing me-

Then I was sprawled on the floor, with a handprint on my ass. Then another.

"Fucking slut," he snarled. "Orgasm is by permission."

Terror. Raw terror. I'd never been stopped from coming like that before and sudden pain, so close to the edge, turned me inside out. I found myself clutching his foot, and his other foot landed on the small of my back and pressed down, rocking my belly and hips against the floor. The contractions in my belly made me cry out.

"Maybe you need to be taught to please a man before you please yourself," he continued. "Maybe you need to take it up the ass first-"

I shrieked. At his size that was unthinkable. "No! Fuck, please! I'll be good! Please!"

"Please what? Do you even know what you're begging for?"

"Pussy," I sobbed. "Please... use my pussy."

"Ass up. Way up if you want it in your slit. Face stays against the floor. You do NOT come when I do, but if you do a good job pleasing me, you'll get to come afterwards."

His foot shifted, hooked under me and dragged me into the approximate position he wanted me in. Shuddering silently, I positioned myself, prettily, for his cock. This wasn't happening. He'd taken charge of me like I was a child, and I was offering myself up for him. This couldn't be happening.

He plunged in, rough and impatient. I screamed.

"Oh," Julie said, softly. "She's so willing. So helpless. Is that how I look? I can see the outline of your cock, pushing inside her belly... can I... let me.. touch myself...?"

"Shut the fuck up," he grunted, but she'd said it for my benefit and it had the effect she wanted. I sobbed, terrified to come but wanting it more than I wanted to breathe. I clenched down on his cock, needing him to come, needing it, fighting to keep myself from coming, belly burning, aching-

He snarled, and then came, pounding me faster. The sound of it... I convulsed. Hearing it over and over in my head. And then he was out... the condom off... and there was a splattering noise next to me.

He was jetting out his cum, on the floor next to me. Julie was already kneeling down next to me.

We didn't have to be told. We licked it up, shaking.

"Thank you, Master," she whispered when the floor was clean. She looked at me, giving a tiny nod.

"Thank you, Tony," I choked out. I at least had this shred of dignity left -- I didn't have to call him Master.

He walked to the sofa and settled in it. "Both of you, cuddle in. You're good girls. Except you, Julie, have a mouth problem, you slightly too clever bitch."

We got on either side of him, and he pulled us both in, turning my head so my mouth was against his shoulder. I kissed it. He wanted me to. Oh fuck, the scent of him. How had this happened?

His hand slid along my thigh, and he tilted my face up to his. "Don't look away," he said. And he slowly, firmly, forced me to orgasm with his finger, forcing me to stare into his eyes the whole time.

I don't think anything has ever been so devastating. The orgasm was violent, shamefully wanton, and nothing like anything I'd even been there before. And he studied it. When he was done with me, I closed my eyes, sobbed, and leaned against him again. I felt like I'd never have a secret again.

"Bastard," I whispered. His finger came back, and he made me come again, this time with my face held firmly against his sprawling cock. Afterwards I was dizzy, and wanted to sleep.

"You'll be back here, Kate," he whispered softly.

"No... mustn't" I said, drowsily. Everything was warm and starting to ache. I couldn't think.

"Many times. There's no escape. But now you need to go back to your apartment. Julie has some behaviours she's going to be taught to regret, and you shouldn't be here for that."

Julie whimpered, but Tony got up and drew me to my feet. I was pleased that he wobbled a little, but I was so weak in the knees it was hard to stand. He walked me to his door, looked out, and then escorted me back to mine. We were both naked and he didn't seem to care, but even as weak as I was, I managed pretty good time though my front door.

I staggered towards bed; even the shower would have to wait.

Fuckdamnit... my outfit was still in his apartment. I'd... I'd get him to mail to it me, yeah...

Sleep.



Bad Neighborhood



Sharon looked down at her watch and cursed silently. It read eight pm. She was twenty minutes late already, and was stuck in what seemed to be a horrible traffic jam. Sharon, who was in her late twenties, was supposed to be meeting friends at a new bar, but this stupid roadwork was making driving extremely slow going. 

Not only that, she was still wearing her work attire, which consisted of a white blouse which strained tightly against her big tits and a black skirt that was now riding up her long stocking legs. 

"Oh Shit" she thought, as she stared at her gas gauge which was close to empty. Sharon swept her long brown curly hair behind one of her ears and sighed. The next exit was very close, so she took the off ramp and looked for the nearest gas station.

Now Sharon knew that there were seedy neighborhoods in between where she worked and where she lived, but didn't think much of it. She pulled into an old and not well-lit, but open gas station. Sharon opened her door and exited her car, long legs first. She smoothed her fine black skirt down as she walked to the entrance of the old beaten down store, not paying attention to the stares that her big ass and tits were bringing.

"Ding" went the bell as she entered the door. The room was deceptively small, with a cooler filled with malt liquor and other assorted beer taking up most of the back. A few people were waiting in line, so Sharon took her place behind them.

Tyrone was homeless and spent most of his time hanging out at this particular gas station, having really no place to go, and nothing better to do. And since the guy who worked the late shift didn't mind him hanging around, he did just that. Now on this particular night as he approached his favorite hangout spot, he noticed a sporty silver car that pulled up, and a hot white woman with a fine legs and ass get out. Tyrone's eyebrows raised while he watched her big tits slightly bounce as she straightened herself out. 

"Nice piece of white ass" he thought, as he watched her hips sway from side to side as she walked into the store.

Tyrone watched as she entered the store in front of him. He drank the last swig of the liquor he had left and threw the bottle away, as he stumbled his way into the store after her. Tyrone greeted the guy working behind the counter who nodded. He lit up a cigarette and took his usual spot, conversing with the patrons, if they let him.

Sharon waited her turn as she watched the strange black man, who just came in behind her, babble about the police or something she couldn't quite hear. The clerk working the counter, said "Bullshit!" and the other grimy looking man laughed and nodded.

She watched as he then lit a cigarette and glance up at her. She saw his gaze drop to her tits, just like so many other men had done before to her. She looked away and pretended not to notice. A few seconds went by and she looked in his direction again, relieved that his attention was on the clerk behind the counter again.

Sharon approached the clerk and said "Twenty on five, please." The clerk, another disheveled man with a scruffy beard stared at her ample cleavage as she dropped her money on the ground and bent over quickly to pick it up. She handed the bills to the clerk and turned to go.

Tyrone watched her through blood shot eyes and made his move. He approached her, slurring his words slightly. "Excuse me miss, but is that your silver car out there?" Sharon, slightly unnerved, stared back for a second at the counter, as if the clerk was talking to her as well, but he was busy helping the next customer. She regarded Tyrone suspiciously as he followed her out the door.

"Miss" he began again, stumbling after her. "Miss, your silver car there has a low tire in the back, you should take care of that sweetie!"

Sharon, who was initially nervous at this disheveled black man following her, clutched her purse to her side instinctively. He repeated himself again as he followed her to her car, stumbling to her back tire and pointed down to it. It was low! Sharon hadn't noticed it when she left work, but she was in such a rush, she must not have noticed! Sharon breathed a sigh of relief. She had flashes of this drunk man snatching her purse and running off with it, but he was actually being helpful!

"Oh wow!" Sharon exclaimed out loud. Tyrone nodded and smiled as if he found buried treasure.

"Yeah!" he said. "Bad to drive on this mother!" He knelt down and tapped it. "Bad to drive on, so fill her up in the back there, where there is a pump, see?" he pointed to the back of the gas station. Sharon followed his finger and didn't see it. She frowned a little.

Tyrone noticing her frown, quickly said "You can't see it from here, but trust me!" as he turned around and walked off suddenly. Sharon, a little surprised at his sudden departure, was still relieved. She was sure he was staring at her legs and ass as she walked out of the gas station!

Sharon filled up her tank and drove behind the gas station. She saw the air pump! She pulled up next to it, and looked around. It was quite dark back here, and she felt quite unsafe. Sharon was just about to pull out of there, when all of a sudden she heard a tap tap tap on her front passenger window. It was that black man again!

Sharon not knowing what to do, waved at him and managed to say "Yes?" He replied with a flourish of his new forty ounce malt liquor bottle, " Why, miss, don't get out I'll fill 'em up for ya!!"

Sharon, not knowing what else to do replied uncertainly " O...er...OK!" Tyrone busied himself, holding and swigging on his beer in one hand, and dragging and filling up her tires with the other. He was having a grand old time, feeling like he had a purpose. Sharon on the other hand, watched him with nervous anticipation. She wanted to hit the road again!

All of a sudden, Sharon heard him exclaim out loud "Miss your tire is fucked, you better look at this!!" Sharon, not knowing to do said in a slow hesitating voice "What is it?" Tyrone noticing her hesitation, smiled. "Lady, this tire has a big ass bubble in it!" Sharon slowly unlocked her door and stepped out. She approached the rear tire, which he was standing by, swigging on his malt liquor. Sharon slowly bent down and examined her tire. The bubble was the size of a dime and had a small hole in it. She cursed inwardly.

While Sharon had bent down to inspect the tire, Tyrone was inspecting Sharon's fine ass. He had a good view of her legs in her stockings, and her shapely thighs through her form fitting skirt. Her boyfriend was jealous whenever she wore it, knowing the guys at her job probably stared at her ass all day. He took another swig from his bottle and watched as she wiggled her ass back and forth, as she examined the tire further. "Damn!" he thought to himself, as he felt his member swell in his pants. Sharon, oblivious to Tyrone staring at her ass, said "Do you think I can ride home on it?" 

"Oh yeah lady!" he replied, looking to his left and right quickly, seeing if anyone was around. "You can make it home, I'm sure of it, but there's just one thing" he said as he threw his bottle away. With that, he grabbed Sharon around the waist with one arm, and put his arm around her neck and covered her mouth with his other hand.

There was no one around to hear Sharon and her muffled screams. Tyrone tightened his grasp and hissed in her ear " Okay, you white bitch, don't make a FUCKING noise or I choke your ass out!" 

Sharon, who had initially fought against his grasp, slowly nodded. Her mind was a jumble...what was happening!? "Where's your purse bitch?" he hissed again in her ear. "In the front seat" she gurgled as his hand went back over her mouth. Sharon was shocked at his transformation!

He seemed to look around again, to see if anyone had seen what he was doing. Then he opened her back door to the car and pushed her in. She lay there on her stomach, to afraid to move. Her skirt rose up to her ass, as he scrambled madly on top of her to grab her purse from the front seat. He took it and laid it just outside, under the car. Sharon, numb with fear, was unable to move. The black man looked down at Sharon's shapely legs in pantyhose and bunched up skirt and felt a stirring in his groin again. He told her "Don't move bitch" as he drunkenly lifted her black skirt to show her big, white ass hugging a black thong. His breathing became excited, and turned into short raspy gasps. He ran his rough dirty hands over her ass and grunted.

Sharon whimpered slightly when his hands ran all over her ass grabbing and kneading each cheek. She flinched when his fingers touched where her panties covered her pussy. Tyrone's eyes lit up and now animal lust overtook him, as he roughly parted her legs and pushed her thong aside. He rubbed her slit up and down, licked his fingers and proceeded to quickly rub her slit up and down again. He spread her legs further as he asked her 

"You ever have black dick before?" When she didn't answer him, he stuck his finger in her pussy and asked her again " You ever have a black dick?" He watched her long curly hair from behind shake slowly from side to side. Sharon dropped her head as a tear trickled down. Tyrone smiled. 

He pulled down sweat pants and quickly got his cock out. He spit in his hand and worked it on his cock head and shaft. He then grabbed Sharon by her hips and pulled her ass close to his cock, so that her ass was sticking high up for easy access to her pussy. Tyrone proceeded to rub his purple cock head up and down her slit, enjoying the sensation and the power over this white woman. 

He stuck his purple mushroom head past her pussy opening, Sharon shivered as she felt him pull it out again. Tyrone couldn't believe he had his prick in this white lady, it felt so much tighter then the loose whores he was used to fucking. He savored the feeling of his cock head, pulling it out, and rubbing it all around her entrance before plunging it in again to the hilt, enjoying her body as he continued to ravage her. Tyrone quickly worked his cock in and out at a frantic pace, drool crept down his lower lip as he was in total ecstasy. He looked down and watched as his dark cock worked its way in and out of her pink pussy, her labial lips grasping his shaft as he thrust in and out. He threw his head back and grunted out loud, over and over as he pounded away. 

Sharon felt his hands rip her shirt open and push her bra up, as her big tits spilled out and hung down. He grabbed her nipples with his fingers and pinched them over and over, rubbing them with his forefinger and thumb. Sharon was disgusted as she felt his cock slamming deep in her pussy. She heard him grunting a deep sound as he now positioned his head by her ear, still fucking her from behind. "Oh god, oh god, white women have tight pussies" he whispered hoarsely in her ear. 

She grimaced as another tear rolled down her cheek. His thrusts became more frenzied as his orgasm was nearing. Sensing this, she struggled against him, feeling his swollen balls slapping against her anus crazily, knowing what was soon going to happen. 

"No,....stop.... this...please" she said, between his thrusting into her delicious pussy. His response was to grab her hair from behind and kept telling her "Here it comes baby, here it comes!"

Sharon cried out as he pulled her hair back even harder and proceeded to ejaculate hot thick spunk into her pussy. Tyrone felt absolute pleasure as his orgasm pulsed again and again inside of her pussy. He shot the last of his load, shaking crazily on top of her, breathing heavily.

Sharon felt his cock pulsating and knew he was blowing his load inside her. She felt him having what was like a seizure on her, he was jerking all around! She closed her eyes, hoping it would be over soon. When he was finished, Sharon felt him slowly withdraw his cock from her pussy, with a satisfied sigh. She felt his semen roll down her leg in a thick clump. She collapsed onto her side and covered up. Tyrone quickly pulled his pants up, got up and ran off with her purse down the dark alley.



Bad Neighbors



"You just come in for a drink and a look see, or you want something more, Oskar?"

"Just the drink today, Skinner, thanks. A shot and a chaser, please."

"Been some time since you got any, hasn't it?" the bartender at the Buckhead Ranch said as he set up two shot glasses for the big Swede bellied up to the bar. "You're still in fine shape, Oskar. You should be usin' it."

"And payin' you well to use it?" the big-boned Scandinavian with the fine head of blond hair said, towering a good foot above the barkeep as he leaned over the bar. His beefy arms, matted with curly blond hair, spread out dramatically on the surface of the wooden bar top that was marred with the carvings of hundreds of customers. He was smiling through his full mustache and trimmed beard, though, so he wasn't taken as trying to be critical.

"If you think I'm in such tip-top shape, why are you thinkin' I need to come here and pay for it?"

"You passed three tame bars to get to mine," Oscar. "Don't shit me why you chose mine. When you pay me for it, you get quality. Doubt you're spiking any of those grizzled old cowpokes you've got out there at that ranch of yours."

"Got that right."

"We got a new guy here who might appeal and get you out of your funk. Over there, the well-built guy with the dark hair and the sulky look. Just your type, I think."

The muscular giant turned to look in the direction the barkeep, and house pimp, directed his attention. Skinner had a moment of panic, though. He might have gone too far. The funk the Swede was in had lasted a good ten years. And the new man, a really fine piece in his mid twenties, really did look like Pete had at that age. Still, Skinner thought it was time for Oskar to move on. The man did occasionally take a guy upstairs and Skinner had reports that he was horse hung and a good fucker. He really did need to use it more while he still could. He had to be, what? forty-five or so. He didn't have too many more years of getting it up easily and getting pleasure out of it.

"I don't know," the Swede said. "Really good-lookin' and a fine body, but I don't know. He don't look like one to lie under a man."

One of Oskar's arms had slid off the table and was stretched down in front of him between his belly and the bar. Skinner knew when a man was feeling himself up. So, he knew Oskar was interested in Frank.

"His name's Frank. He goes both ways, depending on what's wanted. And I'm told he's a real firecracker and has a sweet ass. Course he's given some say here. If he don't like the look of a man, he don't have to go with him. You want to take him upstairs and go for a ride, Oskar? I reckon you're overdue."

"Yeah, yeah, I guess."

"A real sexy piece. Go for an hour with him?"

"Now you're pushin' it, Skinner. A half hour should do."

"Already hard just lookin' at him?"

"Yeah, guess you got that right."

"OK. Half hour, one shot, paid now. You don't come down after that, though, you can pay for the rest later." Skinner turned and called out. "Frank, over here, please."

As Frank walked over to the bar, his eyes latched onto the big Swede. There wasn't much else to look at in the room when the Swede was there, he was so tall, broad of shoulders, and barrel chested. Frank wasn't a small guy himself, but Oskar towered over him. And Frank was well-muscled, but he didn't have the bulging musculature of this rancher, who obviously was a hands-on worker. And hairy. The first impression Frank got was of the hair. Not just the unruly blond, curly pile on his head—some of it going gray—that curled around his ears and went down to his shirt collar, but the matting on his forearms and the tuft showing over the V of the plaid shirt he wore, material distressed across the bulging chest, above worn jeans and scruffed cowboy boots.

Frank gave Oskar a big smile as he came up to the bar, the Swede turned to him, leaning on the bar, and Frank looked him up and down, his eyes lingering at the crotch. When his hazel eyes under thick, long black lashes flickered back up to the man's face, Frank's smile was even broader. He preferred big-dicked men, and this guy looked like he was ready for it already.

"Frank, this is Mr. Swenson. You like what you see, you can take him to room three, please, and show him a good time."

"Gladly," Frank said.

This brought out a big grin from Oskar. He obviously was happy he'd passed muster, even if Frank was nothing more than a male whore.

Oskar didn't waste any time, and Frank didn't hold him off. He gathered Frank into him with a beefy arm around his waist and was working the buttons on Frank's shirt, with Frank doing the same with his, as soon as the door to room three slammed shut behind them. It was much like all of the rooms upstairs: a small room with all the essentials—a three-quarters bed, a small bureau, a straight chair, a wooden clothes horse for the client's clothes, and a porcelain bowl with water and a towel for cleanup afterward. They were standing in the middle of the room, swaying against each other, their mouths plastered together in a long, deep kiss.

Each were pulling arms back at the same time to shrug shirts off, and then they were back in a clutch, Oskar grabbed and squeezed Frank's buttocks through his jeans and Frank buried his face into the curly hair of Oskar's chest and searched for nipples with his mouth, while his hands worked between them, unbuckling Oskar's belt, unbuttoning his jeans, and pushing them and his under linen down to the floor. Oskar kicked those across the room and out of the way with the toe of his boot. No niceties of folded clothes on the clothes horse here.

Frank two-handed Oskar's cock and started working it, as Oskar grabbed his head in two hands and pulled his lips back up to Oskar's mouth. This didn't last long before Frank sank to his knees and was gagging on the big guy's cock.

Oskar held Frank's head to his crotch, reared his head back, and roared, his thoughts obsessed with the word "firecracker" that Skinner had mentioned downstairs. Got that right, he thought. The honey was all over him. Wanted it as much as he did—or was a real good actor in pretending he did. He felt the juices rise. He wouldn't be long at this.

Frank had taken care of getting his own jeans down his legs while he was on his knees, and bounded back up and was climbing Oskar's hips with his legs. Oskar went into a crouch, holding Frank's torso cantilevered away from him. Oskar's thick, hard cock had no trouble locating Frank's slack hole and sliding into him, while Frank grabbed gobs of hair on Oskar's pecs with his hands, locked his ankles behind the small of the big man's back, arched his back away from Oskar, and moved his hips in the rhythm of Oskar's deep thrusts inside him.

It was all over for Oskar in less than five minutes of pounding.

He hobbled over to the bed, with Frank still draped on his front, and laid the younger man down on the end of the bed, with his butt on the edge. He dropped down on his knees on the floor between Frank's thighs, grabbed for both of Frank's wrists, and started giving the smaller man head. Frank arched his shoulder blades back onto the surface of the bed and moaned. They were right on the thirty-minute mark when Oskar had come for his second time, crouched over Frank, between his thighs, where he had been placed by Oskar on the bed. Oskar had held Frank's waist and Frank had spread and raised his own legs and, when tired of that, had run them up Oskar's hairy torso, while Oskar was pounding his ass again to a second ejaculation.

"That's it, I guess," Oskar said, as he stood up from Frank's prone body. "Sorry for gettin' in two. Guess I was more anxious for it than I thought. Only a half hour I see, but Skinner will charge me for two—for a full hour."

"We could make it three in an hour with you only having to pay for the two you already owe," Frank said.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Yes. For return business. You fuck real good."

That deflated Oscar just a bit. He'd hoped the answer was that he was just too sexy to resist. That's what most johns wanted to hear. Of course, that's the line most prostitutes gave their johns. Oscar guessed he should be happy that this one was giving him a more honest answer, and still was complimenting him on his fucking. This one certainly had been into the fuck.

"I don't usually fire off that fast. I don't know if—"

"Come, lay on the bed with me. I'll make sure you want to go again inside the hour and can."

They lay on the bed, Oskar on his back and Frank half draped on top of him, stretching his full length. Frank had one hand stroking Oskar's cock back to life and the other playing in Oskar's chest hair.

"I'm too hairy for some men," Oskar whispered.

"Not for me," Frank whispered back.

Oskar felt a lump in his throat. That's what Pete always said. And this young hunk was so much like Pete had been when they left it off.

"I'd like to see you again—and again," he murmured. "But I ain't that rich."

"It could be cheaper if I came to you on my off days," Frank said.

"You'd do that? You want me to fuck you regular?"

"Again and again," Frank whispered. "You're a rancher, right? Tell me how to get to your ranch."

Oskar couldn't figure out what this guy's angle on this would be other than liking the cocking he gave him. He gave up trying to see the bad side of this. He barely was able to get through the directions before his was panting heavily again, and his cock was at full staff.

With a low laugh, Frank rolled fully on top of him, sat up on his pelvis, lowered his channel, on the cock, and fucked himself, moving up and down and back and forth and in revolution, with the palms of his hands buried in the hair of Oskar's chest, while Oskar moaned and groaned and grunted—and did what he could to thrust up into Frank's channel in rhythm.

Frank lowered his mouth to Oskar's chest and slicked up the man's chest hair with his tongue, making little noises to indicate pleasure that Oskar was so hairy. When he nipped one of Oskar's nipples, the man jerked and fired off again.

When he hit the bottom of the stairs, Skinner leaned over the bar and winked. "Really somethin' special, ain't he?"

"Oh, shit yes. If you could bottle poontang like that, you'd be a rich man. That ain't your usual whore house lay. Really gets the jizm pumping, that one does."

* * * *

Sunday was the first of two days off for Frank, and he rode out along the dirt road paralleling the Platte River away from the town of North Platte and the Buckhead Ranch male brothel. Oskar had given him directions to his ranch, and Frank was almost there when he came upon some sort of community gathering. At first he thought it was a church service, but it was mid afternoon already, and he quickly was able to see that, though the women and children appeared to be wearing what they would to church, they were gathered around tables, packing up what looked to have been a picnic, and the men were dressed in work clothes, some stripped to the waist, and were raising a small barn. The log cabin beyond it looked derelict enough that this might have been a deserted homestead. But not, Frank thought, if they were having a barn raising.

It was more of a big shed than a barn, but, nonetheless, it looked like they were working hard to get it up by nightfall—and were falling behind in the task.

Frank had been raised to be neighborly and he'd been to many a barn raising. The barns on his family's spread in Pennsylvania had always been raised this way, so he turned his horse into the yard, rode up to the house, dismounted, and tied his horse's reins to the porch railing. He was stripping off his shirt, preparing to go help on the barn when a man, in his mid thirties, came out of the house.

Frank took his breath it. The man was the spitting image of his own father, but a bit younger, somewhere between his father's age if he had still been alive and his own. His father had died at thirty-six, though, so, here, standing in front of Frank, was the image of his father when he'd lost him—and when the family had been forced into the poverty that eventually led to Frank doing what he was doing.

"Yes, may I help you?" the man asked. It wasn't lost on Frank that the man was looking at his bare chest rather than in his eyes. The man looked weary, but his eyes narrowed when he looked at Frank.

"Saw there was a barn raising as I passed, and I was taught never to pass one by without helping."

"Thank you, but it's almost over. There's no more food laid out anymore, and the families are beginning to pack up to leave."

"The barn's not all up yet, though," Frank said. "It looks like there's a few more hours of light up there. And it looks like it might rain tomorrow. Best to get the roof over it before the day ends."

"It doesn't look like that's going to happen," the man said, a sadness in his voice. He was fully dressed and not out helping on the barn. It made Frank wonder if he was crippled or something. But then he heard a voice, couched in pain, coming from inside the cabin.

"Pete? You out there? 'Fraid I made a mess in here. Need your help."

"On the porch, Sven. Be there in a minute," the man, whose name evidently was Pete, called back into the house. He turned to Frank. "Sorry. Have a dying man in here. It's hard to get away. Been hard for a while. I thank you kindly, but . . ."

"I'll just go over and see what I can do to help on the barn," Frank said gently. "You go in there and do what you have to do."

Pete gave Frank a grateful look. "Thank you kindly again, then. There's no food from the barn raising, but maybe, if you have the time, you'll tarry afterward and I'll feed you some supper before you're on your way again."

It was almost a hungry look the man was giving Frank, and Frank could imagine how isolating and difficult it was for a man to care for a dying man—probably his father—alone. And from the looks of the condition of the homestead, the man had been a long time dying and needing constant attention.

"Sounds good to me," Frank answered. "I'll be going over to the barn now."

While he was nailing planks of wood on the barn roof to get it closed up, with another man nailing at the other end who he was chatting with, Frank asked, "Who is this Oskar men have been talking about who didn't come to the barn raising?"

"That would be Oskar Swenson, just the next ranch over. This is the first barn raisin' hereabouts where he wasn't front and center and doin' the work of three men. We'd got this one up well before dark if he'd been here. Looks like we'll still make it—get it under cover at least—thanks to you comin' along."

"Is this Swenson man sick today?" Frank wondered whether he should go on to Oskar's place.

"Naw. Guess it's about him and Sven and Pete. Bad blood there. Not something we talk about if we can help it. It's probably good he didn't come. There'd be too much tension in the air."

"Sven?" Frank asked.

"The man dying in that cabin there. Don't know if this work is all for nothin'. Don't know what Pete plans to do with this ranch when Sven goes. It was Sven who did the ranchin'. But not much use to talk about it. You got any extra nails over there I can use?"

Frank got the "we don't talk about it" message.

Pete was shy and nervous throughout a very good dinner despite his need to run back and forth between the two rooms. There were only two rooms in the cabin, the bedroom the dying man was in and the main "everything else" room, other than the outhouse, which, as with nearly every ranch in the West in 1915 was "out there."

At first Frank hadn't understood why the man was so nervous, but it began to dawn on him when he'd looked into the bedroom and had seen that the man in the bed wasn't old and decrepit; he was maybe in his mid forties. Another one of those big Scandinavians whose families had immigrated to this part of the States to farm or ranch. The man was probably only second generation, and now that Frank thought about it, when he heard him call for Pete, there had been a distinct accent in his voice.

He wasn't Pete's father and he wasn't his brother either, Frank, didn't think, unless the mother had really been messing around.

"So, how did you come to this?" he said over some sort of delicious peach cobbler they were eating for dessert and a cup of coffee. Pete could cook for him any day of the week, as far as he was concerned.

"To this?"

"Taking care of another man full time like this. He isn't your father or your brother, is he? It looks like you're devoting your whole life to him. Is he paying for you to do this? If so, why you rather than some housekeeper who could nurse him as women can better than most men?"

"I nurse him quite well," Pete said, flaring up a bit.

"I'm sure you do. You certainly feed him well if he'll take it. But you obviously are tied to him full time. What happened to the old barn?"

"It fell over—and then burned."

"This cabin looks like it would do so too if these weren't solid logs it's built with. The question remains."

"He's more to me than a father or brother," Pete answered in a small voice.

"Now, I knew that, but I think you needed to get it out and say it. And if you think that matters to me in some judging way, you're wrong. I understand."

"You understand?"

"Completely. How long has it been since you two have made love?"

"Made love?"

"Had sex. With each other." Frank wasn't going to let him avoid this.

The small voice again, without being able to look at Frank. "Almost a year. No, maybe already a year."

"Any other man taking care of you now?"

"No."

"Do you really think Sven in there would have it that way—would make you deny yourself if he couldn't give it to you?"

Pete didn't respond.

"Look at me, Pete. I said, look at me. There. Why are you being so shy with me? Is it because I repulse you or you fear me? Or because you fear that you could want me."

Pete was making a gurgling sound, but he eventually managed to whisper, "Because I could want you. Because . . . because I do want you."

"Come here," Frank said, pushing his straight chair back from the table and against the wall and opening his arms. "I said, come here. You need something. I have it to give."

Pete rose and took a couple of steps toward Frank, who leaned forward, grabbed the man's wrists, and pulled him to where he was standing between Frank's spread thighs.

Pete let out a low moan as Frank pushed the older man's shirt up from his trousers and exposed his flat belly. Frank kissed the man's navel and laid his cheek on the bare skin of the belly, which was trembling at his touch, while he unbuckled and unbuttoned the trousers and pushed them and the under linen down to the floor. Pete already was barefooted.

"Step out of them. You won't need them for a while."

"Why?" Pete asked nonsensically.

"Because we're going to fuck. I'm going to give you what you need."

With a groan, Pete did as bade and Frank lowered his mouth to Pete's cock. The table, and the butter on the table, was within reach. Pete gasped as the greased fingers found and entered his passage. He came quickly on Frank's face.

"I can't . . . sorry . . . I can't remain standing." His legs were wobbly and he was only being held up by the strength of Frank's hands grasping his waist.

Frank chuckled. "I don't intended for you to stand up." He had managed to unbutton himself, expose his cock, and work it up while he was giving Pete head. So it wasn't a long trip for him to lift Pete by the waist and settle his greased channel down on his cock. He pushed Pete's shirt up to his armpits and attached his lips to a nipple and started raising Pete's pelvis up and down on the cock with the strength of the arms embracing the man's chest.

Pete gasped and threw his own arms around Frank's head. Completely into the fuck, Pete raised his legs and pressed his feet against the logs of the wall on either side of Frank's chair. Using his feet for leverage, he took over the stroking. Rising and falling on the cock, faster and faster, forcing the cock deeper and deeper.




Bad Neighbors, Good Fuckers



Maybe it was a freak flare of testosterone in my system or maybe the fact that I haven’t had any action since I had broke up with that bitch Brenda almost two months ago, but when I woke up that morning, I knew that I just had to get laid that day. Between work and a shitload of papers that were almost suddenly due, I’ve neglected my needs. And the morning woody that refused to recede even now, halfway through my calculus class was a constant reminder of the fact. In my head images of sex floats freely as I zone out. Not any articulate fantasies, just clips of sex, female flesh and moans and smells. A cycle: I think about sex because I’m horny, I’m horny because I think about sex. 

Then I realize that the space I was staring at is occupied by hot piece by the name of Debbie. She had a body worthy of a Jay-Z video, muscled with seemingly generous curves. I take her dimensions and in my head place them to angles, putting definition to my errant fragmented fantasies. In my head I see her firm breasts quiver in motion and her face contorted in ecstasy, while my daydream-self is fucking her from behind; now I have her on her back, and see her profile, the steep rise of her breasts, topped by a hard nub, that she pinches, the slight rise her soft flesh of belly and then her hips, generous but hard and all smooth, now I have her by her ass and pounding her standing up.

Somewhere between imagining what her pussy was like and whether she was moaner or a screamer, I realize she was staring at my crotch and its obvious distention. I haven’t the regard to look away as she raises her head and instead I meet her face with a smile and then proceed look her over again before nodding my appreciation. Dear Reader, I would make excuses to you, how I’m not usually like this and what gentleman I am, but then after class I ended up in her room and in no time fucking. 

Fucking like animals. 

We don’t even wait for her dorm room door to open before my hands are around her waist and opening up her pants, stroking her through the cloth of her panties and then stealing inside and feeling the curls of her pubes around my fingers like soft Velcro.

Her gasped breath that punctuated her hurried heavy breathing as she struggled to open the door was an erotic kick.

“Hurry” I whisper as I rubbed my crotch to her ass. The door clicks open and she turns her head to me. We go at each other mouth, hungrily shoving our tongues with a desperation withheld only for longtime parted lovers or in our case the sex-starved young. Upon entering the room, without breaking from our locked mouths, I roughly rip her blouse open (which in retrospect wasn’t a nice thing to do). My hands are on her belly and then move on to her back stoking and squeezing. I undo the snap of her bra from behind, and break from our kiss. 

As I pull her bra off, I’m rewarded by the sight of almost perfect breast that more than does justice to the daydreams I had only 20 minutes ago. I trailed wet kisses from neck to her right breast and then took the nipple in my mouth. Her breasts were a pleasant handful, firm and high, capped by cute stubby nipples, surrounded by dark tan circles of her aureoles. With my head ducked at her chest, Debbie pulls my shirt of my back and I pull it off over my head, before returning to her nipples. She drags her nails, on my back, not hard enough to draw blood but rough anyway. I knock my sneaker off now, knowing how it can get awkward later. Once your pants are off, that’s the point of no return, and something ridiculous like your pants stuck at your ankle can possibly make a randy nympho reconsider. 

I slip my hands under the seats of her pants, and while I’m not particularly an ass-guy, but I could definitely appreciate the pair I was handling; generous but firm, this girl really takes care of herself. Gripping her buns in my hands, I pull her close to me again, Her own pants are having trouble staying up and fell somewhere down to her knees. I grind my erection through my pants on to her crotch and actually felt a satisfying wetness that had permeated the front of her panties.

“Do you want this?” I ask. I am, of course, referring to my dick that’s been threatening to rip through the cloth of my pants.

She moans, and in response she slid down and undoes my pants. My erection didn’t wait for an invitation. And slaps her in the face. (Understand I’m wearing those annoying Hanes boxer, whose front is a flimsy opening, which means you have to be careful what shows). Once again, this is something I might usually apologize for, but… Anyway I have reason to believe she wouldn’t hare cared anyway, because she then takes my shoves it in her mouth. This talented girl had my erection half way down her throat in the first go. After bobbing her head her few times, she pulls me out her mouth and sucks hard on my head. My foreskin was lodged behind my head, so the sensation is mind-blowingly intense (Reader, research has shown that the circumcised penishead looses considerable sensitivity). I pull my head back and howl at the ceiling. 

I hear what might be a muffled giggle. Releasing me from the vise of her mouth (after a painfully pleasurable few seconds), she grips the waist of my boxers and pants and in a fell swoop pulls down. In something resembling the trick of pulling tablecloth off a set table, my genitals slips in the boxers and then popped out over the waistband as my remaining clothes (apart for my socks that stays on of the entirety of this session) had made their descent to my ankles. 

And she gets right back into action. 

Her mouth goes right back onto my dick. Again encompassed in this damp warm cave, I wince in expectation of that cave-in that threatens to cause me to pass out. Instead, I’m returned to the cool air outside her mouth, as she turns her head as then she slobbers down my erection passing the inch-and-a-half of my dick head. She surprises me by actually chewing on the remaining 6 inches of my meat. Normally, a faux pas of oral sex and something that might usually make me squeamish, she really put her teeth to good use, keeping it well clear of my dick head. 10 for technical merit, but low 2 for artistic points: I’m looking down and see slimy strands of precum and saliva stretching from her face to my dick.

Hmm, I’m neglecting to mention how she’s putting her hands to use. Her right hand is not so much gripping, but rather holding me her palm and gently squeezing. Her hands must be small, because my left testicle keep spilling between her thumb and finger I’ve stepped out of the pool of my pants. Her other hand is polishing the knob of my dick: imagine chalking a cue stick. I’m quickly loosing it, and realize that I’m unconsciously emitting a series of ‘Ahhs.’ I’ve forced my hands to my sides and alternatively clench and unclench my hands and force my breathing to even out, so I can prolong the experience and the inevitable eruption. 

There’s much to learn from the eastern tantrics, and while I don’t believe in not having orgasms (I’m young; I have the chi to last me a lifetime), I do believe in postponing it as long as possible (at least the first one). So using all the willpower that I could muster, I forcibly extricate myself from Debbie’s hungry mouth and hands so I can return the favor. She moans in protest, but I pull her up and push her on her bed (yes, you got it, this is not my usual self). Roughly, more roughly then I would in my right mind, I pull off her pants the remainder of the way off along with those cute ankle socks that woman wear and her slippers, the kind that you might wear to the beach. 

That leaves her panties. Hers were the flimsy white cottons that women wear when they aren’t expecting sex. I personally love them, though. Spreading her legs, first I stroke her hips then one hand goes to her crotch. Though the fabric I feel her out, my fingers are outlining the slit. Now I’m rubbing more vigorously, and finally, my fingers invade her opening, fabric-enclosed fingers embalmed with her generous juices. I thrust in and out, with my thumb placed over the nub, that to my estimation was her clit, every thrust down a push up. 

A surprisingly easy rhythm, actually; and apparently it was producing results, Debbie clenched back at me and her head was over the edge of the bed and her eyes rolled back and her mouth open. I scooped beside her and with the other hand tweaked a nipple, a delicious dark bud rising from a small circle of pink, that looked so incredibly sexy against her chestnut skin. I lean over and took it in my mouth massaging the firm flesh under it. First I push the nipple to the roof of my mouth and suck for awhile, then I stick out my tongue and roughly lick it in broad upstrokes. Her hand soon reached for my dick and slowly pumps it bringing the foreskin back over the head. Reaching over, I switch to the other but first I take the masturbating hand and place it over the breast I vacate. After administering my mouth to the other breast. And as before I bring her hand to her breast. I lick her fingers, her nipples, and stroke her skin, all the while, a hand is still working her pussy. She is now really worked up; that without having to remove her panties!

Though they don’t stay on for much longer. 

If you seeing a theme in my raucous behavior, you might guess I ripped off the one article covering her skin without a second thought. Well, you are wrong, I actually spared a thought, and considered removing it and leaving it intact. However, with a quick assessment, I concluded that it might bring her down from her cloud nine. And besides I really do want to rip it off her. And so I do. Curling my fingers in the cloth, I tug apart and it tore surprisingly easily. Soon, her pussy was exposed in all its glory, a mound forested by dark short pubes giving away to pinkish lips, deepening to a red near the center, and God, they actually quivered. I could see the tip of her clit peeking out between the lips, and when I part them, I see it crowning the passage. I wasted no time and ducked my head into that soppy snack and ate like it starving dog, growling and slurping. I wouldn’t win any prizes for delicacy or subtlety. Within minutes my enthusiasm is rewarded by with first increasing moans and then outright shrieks followed by thrashing. For amount I felt panic: imagine a bomb squad realizing they just cut the wrong wire. She is so out of control, but I ride this bronco like a veteran cowhand (for all the right reasons, to all the Kid Rock out there). 

As she reaches her peak, I climb on to the bed replace my face with my dick. A second it’s at her entrance, the next with her ass in my hands I shove it right in. Her pussy is a churning inferno, how her walls contracting so on dick is unreal. Pussy like this is rare.

I can only manage a dozen thrusts before I feel like I’m going to cum. Vaguely, I’m aware of a pounding on the door, but I ignore it. We are being bad neighbors. Instead, I pulled my cock from her soppy pussy and replace it roughly with all the digits of right hand. Then I take my cock with the other hand and pump my spraying cum all over her body. Abruptly, I disengage to answer the door and whoever was banging on it for the past minute. What greets me was a stream of obscenities that came out of heavy-lipstick mouth that belonged full-bodied bodacious hot chick that. I zoned out as I check her up and down and languidly stroked my cock. If I say heavy-set, you might think disproportionate, but really she had a fine figure, an hour glass-shape. And, obviously, a fiery personality. At some point she realizes I didn’t give a fuck that we were loud and she loses some of her steam. 

Pointed ignoring her complaints, I return to Debbie, who hadn’t quite recovered and pull her head to my sloppy cock, which she proceed to lap me at like a bitch. Satisfied with her efforts, I turn my head to our spectator. “We are fucking,” I explain, and then more sympathetically, “you can join us, you look a little over-stressed.”

“What?!”

“A good fuck could do you good. And I could fuck you good.” I advise over Debbie inveterate moans.

“You obnoxious asshole!” Then she surprises me. “Fuck it!”

She enters the room and peels off her t-shirt, revealing big braless swinging tits, and then proceeds to peel down her torn jeans to a pair of black panties. Which soon followed the rest of her clothes on the floor. Her pussy was a delicious sight; she sported a bare plump snatch and I can make out a small tattoo just below her abdominal. 

Coming over to us, she takes over from Debbie, grasping my cock in a grip and roughly pushing Debbie down. “Eat me out bitch,” she orders Debbie. Boy, this is getting interesting. Debbie obliges. This goth chick straddled Debbie’s face, and then after pumping my cock, took the head in her mouth. Truthfully, I am having concerns that she might do something nasty, like bite down. Turns out she does do things nasty, but in a nice way. She isn’t gentle, it’s like a hardcore porn blow. Here we are, these two chicks on the bed one eating out the other and the other sucking on my cock as I’m standing by the bed. Can’t you imagine the camera panning across and then zooming in to the feeding cunt or the blowjob? I couldn’t have done it better even if I thought it up. 

As the blowjob proceeds, I scoop down and gripped on her breasts, squeezing hard. These were great tits, with hard large nipples rising out of aureoles that capped these globes. I grasp and grope and tug and tweak and after a few moments of handling these melons, I think these are great tits to fuck. So I do just that; squatting a little I push these melons together and push my cock through the cleavage. Then I got to an easy rhythm of fucking these warm soft globes, which left this chick’s mouth free to start yapping.

“You like that, stud?”

“I’d like it more if you put that mouth to work as well” I retort. “And while you are at it, while to put these hands to work on these hooters of yours” 

She complies, gyrating those breasts slowing she awaits for my dick to reach her mouth and then sucks on the end, I grip her head and hold it down, then as I pull it back, she finds the time to talk dirty. “I’m going want that fucking dick in my pussy soon”

“Just keep it up, bitch and I’ll fuck you good.” I say, as my dick emerges for the crevice again to received by some tongue action. It soon escalates, picking up the pace and I have trouble responding to the bantering. By her comments tapers off, as my thrusts speed up to quickly to allows her full sentences. By now Debbie has her worked up too, so I imagine she would trouble formulating, them anyway. Instead we hear deep throaty moans.

However soon, the Goth-chick feels pressured to say something, so she spurts out words in the intervals where my cock is not occupying her mouth. It went something like this: “I… am.. going …. To… cum…”

What a coincidence, so am I. But boy does she come, grinding her hips to poor suffocating Debbie, shrieking like a banshee. In her excitement she rudely neglects me, so I grab her head, pull it down to the level of my cock and deep throat her. Two strokes and I come. The first two spurts disappearing into her mouth, the next few, I shower on her face and tits. 

Without missing a beat she turns around and pulls Debbie to clean the cum of her. Debbie has lost all strength and does whatever this Goth-chick makes her do, makes me wonder if they have a history together or maybe its just chemistry. Her ass is now facing to me. I drop to my knees, and take at look at the view; not a bad ass at all, slightly saggy and cute view of fat pussy lips. She is drenched and dripping like a leaking tap. I slip two fingers in (through I think my entire fist could fit in there), and start finger-fucking her. Either she still riding her orgasm or I’m hitting the spot, because her pussy is still running on the 5th gear. I want to jack this box, and my good ol’ dependable ohnson is ready as always. I get up and push the rod in as far as it can go and start fucking like my life depended on it.

She was slamming herself at me, so even without my efforts she’s being thoroughly fucked, and apparently in the right way, she seemed to be continuously cumming. She had her fingers all over Debbie’s pussy and really fancied biting her nipples, painfully from the looks of it. Debbie was gone and seeing how the goth-chick liked to give tough, I inferred she’d like to get it tough and I took to slapping her ass. Soon those globes were red all over. The three of us were a cacophony of noise, slurping, slapping, moaning and groaning. And in the gothchick’s case cursing. Loud, and verbal. God did she have a filthy mouth. With something she said I guessed her name was Melinda. 

My cock felt so so great. Before long, I would about cum again, and when Melinda finally brought Debbie to another screaming climax, I explode cumming inside herprimal messages from my spine causing me to thrust first wildly then slower and deeper. Disengaging from the goth chick, I step back and study my mates. Melinda’s former angry countenance is replaced by a look wicked glee. Debbie on the other hand seemed to be in a stupor.

“So Stud, want to fuck this bitch up her ass,” She causally asks, a naughty smile running over her face. She pushed her to a side and slapped her on her haunches. “I’ve even greased her up for you,” and then illustrated the fact by pushing three digits up her anus.

I swiped a hand across my mouth and grinned at Melinda. “Sure.” 

I climbed on the bed, on my knees and spitting a handful of hand, I lubed my cock, like in those porn flicks. Yeah, a porn flick. Threesomes with practical strangers? I felt like a porn star. Debbie is on her back and Melinda climbs on her. She places a pillow under her ass and then takes the legs by the ankles. Melinda instructs me to hold them and push them toward her. Then Melinda reaches around and parts her buttocks. The rosy bud of her spread rectum was darkly inviting. I push my dickhead through with Melinda’s lewd encouragements. Debbie’s only protest was a soft moan. Resolute, I started a rhythm of thrusting. Apparently, Debbie’s ass was well fucked before, because it wasn’t as tight as I had expected and she seemed used to it. It was still tight, though and I had to pace myself.

Soon I was lost in the pulse of it. Melinda took to pinching my nipples hard and apparently got of on it. I took Debbie’s legs and placed them under Melinda armpits. Then I reached for Melinda’s generous breasts and squeezed. I duck to take those long hard nipples to my mouth and suck hard, then I got to chewing them. Not to neglect Debbie and because I getting close to creaming, I dip my hand into her cunt and try for her G-spot. It took me awhile to find it but when I did and pounded the button, it worked its Magic: Debbie screams in ecstasy and her sphincter convulses erratically, squeezing with incredible pressure on my cock. I feel Melinda join me in Debbie’s pussy, forcing her way in but instead of toward Debbie, Melinda starts rubbing the wall between the pussy and her rectum, ‘cause I could feel the pressure on my cock. It is an amazing experience, feeling those fingers through the wall. Debbie was going wild, spasming and the muscled walled of her pussy and asshole convulsing around our intruding fingers and my pistoning cock. It isn’t long after that I had more than I could take and burst, my hips thrusting hard and fast with each discharge from my spewing cock and slowing down as it teeters off to spurts. 

I pull out without sparing a glance to at the filth and fluids I feel on my cock. “Excuse me, ladies I need to use the boy’s room,” Putting one of my more charming smiles. “Can you do with out me?”

To answer my question, Melinda straddles Debbie’s face. “Oh, I think we’ll do fine.”




Bad Neighbors, Good Fuckers



“Now, play nice girls.” I scavenge for my shorts and pull them on. Making my way out of the room, I thing how good I feel. And as I approach the bathroom, I hear the sound of the shower running. This is an all-girl floor, I wonder if I can get another pussy...

* * * * *

Comments are welcome. I might respond but no promises.