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What Men Want Ch. 01

By: Jaymal



For Emie

*

'There you are, class of '79.' Mary-Jane's hand quaked just a little, as she took the yearbook from the school secretary. 

'Is there anywhere I can...?' Her eyes cast about for some private space.

'Oh yes, the visitors' room is two doors down on the right. I think it's empty right now.'

Seated alone, Mary-Jane opened the imposing, hard-backed volume and leafed her way past the introduction to the staff photographs with an odd sense of trepidation. She could not even be sure that she would find him here; after all, what had she learned for sure about the man during those few brief hours in his company? She was even hazy about his name. Wasn't that weird, considering the significance in her life of that night? A night seared on to her memory in such vivid detail...

It took only a cursory glance over the pages for her to pick out the portrait that made her heart lurch. Oh my God, that's him, that's him... He did work here. The photograph was inadequate, could only convey part of his physical impressiveness, the sheer force of his magnetism. Yet there he was, staring out of the frame charming and civilised, as he had seemed in that moment when he first spoke to her. But this was not the real man at all, only what he chose to convey. There were other images coming to mind, intense, colour ones, deeply at odds with this picture of suit-and-tie respectability. Images that still made her heart race after all that time, that made her sex moisten and gently spasm, as she sat there in this High School visitors' room.

Joseph Sadler, Fraser High School sports coach and educator. On that one occasion her educator... Her self-appointed instructor in a crash course that had, she realised, moulded her whole sexual being. To this day every fantasy she masturbated to could be traced back to him. Every submissive little quirk in her erotic nature was rooted in that brief, crazy encounter. A chance encounter for her, a simple floating on the tide of events - but in hindsight she could see how different it had been for him. There had been no element of chance in his plans - just a quietly determined, supremely skilled hunting down and capturing of his prey. It was an older, wiser female, who could guess at his innermost thoughts on that revelatory evening; who could imagine the intensity of desire that had driven him to seek his satisfaction that night, the nature of the lust that had made her his perfect quarry.

***********************

Saturday 25th August, 1979.

Joe Sadler adjusted his tie in the mirror and gave himself a more appraising stare than usual. Hair still thick and dark, no tell-tail hints of grey, even around the temples. A facial structure that continued to stand by him - strong brow, nose and jaw line, that would still, with a little care, convey a sense of masculine power long after he reached retirement. Skin taut for the most part; yes, years of outdoor training had produced a slight cragginess around the eyes and forehead, but that only served to underscore his handsomeness with an air of authority. All vanity aside, one day on from his thirty-eighth birthday he had never looked better. 

That in itself galled him a little. A face like his, the hard-packed torso covered up by his silk shirt - they should have been earning him countless thousands by now. The dignified end to a glowing sporting career should have given way, amidst plaudits and celebratory dinners, to lucrative celebrity endorsements for sporting goods, for shower and shaving products. What a difference a match makes. One bone-crunching foul. One cartilage-tearing knee injury, that had laid low a sporting-god in the making. A dream wiped out in a split-second. High School wrestling coach, that was his lot in life now. In a respected educational establishment, admittedly, that topped up his salary just to keep him there. Helping bone-headed students to attain sports scholarships, one of them occasionally making the grade as a professional. And this was his 'job satisfaction'. 

'Hey, that Foster kid could make the Olympic squad, makes you proud, huh?' He had suffered that and a dozen other fatuous remarks one night before, at the wholly unsought-for birthday party set up by his sister. A whole evening hemmed in by platitude-laden family members and beer-bellied friends from his College days, whose conversation ranged from styles of barbecue to the education of their brats. Truth be told the only guest he had welcomed was Arnold Venkman, divorce lawyer and true friend, the man who had salvaged his pride and at least some of his belongings during the recent acrimonious proceedings with Angela. The rest of them could go to hell and take their green, suburban smugness with them.

No, the only party Joe was interested in took place tonight. A real birthday celebration, one that would provide enough relish to take from his mouth the previous evening's tang of defeat. The venue was prepared, the host looking his best. The only thing missing was that single special guest with whom he would properly usher in his 39th year. She would be leaving home, he thought, at much the same time as him, heading for some venue like The Butterfly Suite over in Sterling Heights - yes, he would make that his destination too. She would have no idea of the twist her evening would take, of her exclusive invitation to Joe's festivity. But this he would ensure - she would provide him one sweet night's entertainment, before she saw her home again. Whoever she was. 

Joe checked through the house to make sure that everything was ready - subtle lighting, a bottle of baby oil placed on the bedside table and, most importantly for the latter part of the night, a little chemical pick-me-up at the ready in the dining-room. It paid to have contacts in the world of professional sport. He picked up his car keys, slammed the door behind him and set out to catch his butterfly.

***********************

Mary-Jane Dodds arrived at Pammie's front door to find her own sense of excitement mirrored in her friend's face; it was the same any time they planned an evening at Macomb County's hottest night spot. 'Hey, I wondered where you were, the taxi's due any... M-J, you look amazing!' Mary-Jane cast her eyes down and blushed. She had checked herself out extensively in front of her mom's full-length mirror before coming out, experimented with a few catwalk twirls, feeling a thrill at the sight of the beautiful young woman reflected before her. And yet it still surprised her to hear someone else put words to that same immodest thought. 'No really,' Pammie enthused, eyes drinking her in, as she entered the house, 'you look fabulous! Where did you get that dress?'

'You like it?' Mary-Jane bit her lip and tried to hide how pleased she was with herself at the gauzy chiffon that so lightly swathed her body. 'It's a two-piece. I found it last week in Gantos - cost me two months' allowance! I swear it's the most expensive thing I've ever bought!' She beamed with embarrassed pleasure.

'God, it was worth it!' Pammie exclaimed, echoing Mary-Jane's girlish delight. 'You look so sexy... And I love what you've done with your hair, it looks so good pinned up that way - you're a princess! I'm so jealous!' Mary-Jane's face burned at Pammie's praise. It was not as if her friend would be starved of male glances herself that evening, with her cascade of blonde hair and her slender figure, set off by a shimmering, blue disco frock. All of which made the effusive outburst more gratifying. 

But in the back of the taxi, as they covered the few short miles to the venue, Pammie drew up close to her, an expression of mock concern on her face. 'Now look, I hope you're not going to be a wallflower tonight.'

'I am not a wallflower!' Mary-Jane laughingly protested. 'I just - like to sit and soak up the atmosphere sometimes...'

'You cannot go out looking that good and hang around in a corner somewhere,' her friend insisted. 'This is The Butterfly Suite we're going to. You've got to - well - flutter a little!' 

'But you're a way better dancer than I am. I feel so self-conscious out there!'

Pammie rolled her eyes. 'There's nothing wrong with your dancing! And no guy looking at you on the dance floor tonight is going to be worried about your disco moves, believe me!' She slipped an arm round Mary-Jane's shoulder and gave her a playful squeeze. 'Come on, don't you want to try and meet that special somebody?'

'Well - maybe,' Mary-Jane responded doubtfully. The thought was far from unappealing and The Butterfly Suite was cute-guy heaven, but her romantic notions had never advanced far into reality, even there. Any time a boy spoke to her, her natural bashfulness kicked in and he appeared to lose interest. It just seemed easier to look - to enjoy whatever male beauty was on display - and then go home without any social awkwardness.

Pammie persisted jovially. 'Come on, M-J, don't make me feel like a freak here. You can't tell me when we go out you don't have any - you know - fantasies.' Her voice dropped meaningfully on the final word, suggesting that she meant rather more than a lingering goodnight kiss.

Mary-Jane felt a tightening in her chest. Pammie would have been amazed at the late night flights of imagination she sometimes indulged in. That she knew what it was to touch herself and had regularly indulged in such a practice for some time. That she had discovered what exquisite sensations were to be felt exploring her own body. Or that so often, when undertaking these explorations, her thoughts were fed by a particular well-thumbed paperback, now shut up safely with her diary. 

She had discovered the novel two years previously, rummaging through a box of tatty paperbacks in a local garage sale. It had lain shamefully at the bottom of the box, hiding its tawdry front-cover sketch of a naked and anxious young woman, until Mary-Jane had lifted it out and flicked through its pages. The Violation of Violet was a lustily exploitative piece of sex-fiction, the words of which had repelled and fascinated her enough to make her purchase it for fifty cents from a middle-aged man, who had eyed her curiously as she handed over the money. 

At home she had devoured the story, a disturbing tale of how College-girl Violet was lured by an older boyfriend to a remote lakeside cabin, where she became a reluctant source of carnal pleasure for him and a group of his friends. The book had recounted, in lurid detail, the increasingly debauched acts to which the heroine had been subjected over a long, gruelling weekend. Mary-Jane knew she should have been appalled at the gratuitous descriptions of poor Violet's sexual plight, but the crude words and vivid images drew her back many times and the depraved actions of the male protagonists became somehow incorporated into her nocturnal thoughts, as she fingered between her thighs. 

Silly really - these fantasies were a huge remove from the undefined sense of romance she felt, when glancing at men amid the disco lights; such thoughts were strictly for her bedroom, tidied away in some secret corner of her mind for private use only. They had no bearing on the events of her real life; she was sure she had never met any men remotely like the characters in the novel. 

'Well I really don't,' she finally responded, shrugging off her friend's fantasy-related inquiry without quite meeting her eye.

Pammie shook her head in amusement. 'My God, no wonder my dad thinks you're so sensible. I don't think he'd let me go out, if he didn't know you were with me.' The taxi drew to a halt just short of The Butterfly Suite's main entrance. Pammie handed over the fare and grinned at Mary-Jane in a sudden thrill of excitement. 'Here we are... It's party time.'

Outside the club was the buzz of Senior High School and College students, ready to eat up the final few weeks of balmy, late-summer recess. Well-groomed, well-heeled young professionals were queuing up as well - glamorous, would-be disco-queens and sharp-suited men, all using The Butterfly Suite's rigorous dress-code as an excuse to indulge their most expensive tastes. Mary-Jane's eyes gazed on the more striking female fashions being paraded and flicked rather more discretely over the selection of males in attendance, as she and Pammie progressed through the club's foyer into its dazzling interior. Disco lights spun crazily, mirror-balls fragmenting their beams into hundreds of sparkles that swam about the dance floor. Lipps Inc.'s Funkytown was already drawing people from their tables. There was a fluidity of motion to the whole place and Mary-Jane's eyes darted from one handsome club-patron at another, as she followed Pammie towards the bar. 

They ordered grasshoppers and took them to a secluded table, where they could giggle at the more desperate dance-efforts on display and swap notions of which men were the most attractive. Mary-Jane rolled the green liquid around her mouth, to fully enjoy the taste of mint liqueur on her tongue. After the initial frissons of anticipation she felt the atmosphere and alcohol soak through her and she relaxed into the evening. The music was hot, the guys were pretty and she was with her best friend in the hippest club outside of New York. Nothing else was needed for a good night. So if Pammie's 'special somebody' came along to sweep her off her feet, well, that would just be a bonus. 

***********************

Joe swung his Lamborghini into The Butterfly Suite car park around nine, having stopped off for gas. The club, he thought, as he locked the car, would be filling up with an enticing range of attractively packaged females: secretaries freed from their office constraints for a devil-may-care weekend of dancing, College cheerleaders now bedecked from their disco wardrobe, and yes, Senior High School girls, just beginning their flirtations with womanhood... And for the first time in years Joe felt at liberty to enjoy it all freely. 

His few sorry years with his wife - what had made him think marriage was a good idea? - had taught him the difficulty of taming a rampant sex-drive. During all the hard-fucking years of his early bachelorhood it hadn't been an issue; his knee injury had prevented him from indulging his libido as widely as if he had been a rising sports star, but his natural attributes and social confidence had opened up ample sexual opportunity nonetheless and he had seized it all greedily. The marital bed, however, had imposed constraints against which all his instincts had raged; his attempts at monogamy foundered within a year, but due to the discretion with which he controlled his sexual thirst, it was another three before one of his infidelities was discovered. 

Separated from Angela, he had been primed to give free rein to his ravenous sexual appetite once more, but Arnold Venkman had pleaded with him to keep his cravings in check until the damage limitation of the divorce proceedings was concluded. Joe had conducted his carnal activities with stealth for another year, driving across the state line on occasional weekends, so he could fuck College girls on campuses remote from home, or booking out-of-town hotel rooms and passing details surreptitiously to cocktail waitresses of where they could later join him for a strenuous night of his demanding sexual attention. Then there had been some delicious evenings, when he had played fast and loose with Arnold's advice; like the night where he had exchanged increasingly lust-charged glances with the young wife of the Vice Principal, on a Fraser High staff evening out. Eventually Joe and the lady in question had tactfully absented themselves from the table and reconvened in the men's room; the thought that the husband had continued regaling his colleagues drunkenly with his thoughts on education reform, while Joe had been mere yards away in a toilet cubicle, rammed to the balls inside the man's moaning wife, brought a smile to his lips even as he approached The Butterfly Suite's main entrance. 

Joe smiled fleetingly for another reason. At thirty-eight he was single again, all divorce-court mudslinging and curtailing of his sexual pursuits behind him. His wife's lawyers had been at least partially fended off, so that he still owned his fast car and bachelor apartment. He had trained his way back to a peak of fitness in preparation for this day and, as he paid his way into the swirling lights and pounding beat of the club, he could feel his own life-force pulse within him. The inertia of his birthday party was dispelled utterly; he had come out tonight to prove he was alive. 

For Joe the air in The Butterfly Suite was almost static with sexual energy. Spectacular women in high heels and wraparound, strapless dresses were eyeing men over cocktails or swaying daringly to Night Fever on the dance floor. He paid for a whiskey and soda at the bar and set off around the club at a nonchalant stroll. The evening was still only getting underway and he had plenty of time to seek out exactly the right girl. It was a luxury that came with his level of attractiveness, combined with self-assurance - something he had faked as a young man, but which had by now soaked itself into the very way he thought. Other men, even good-looking ones, made do with whoever would respond favourably to their advances - went home with a blonde, when their preference was for a brunette, settled for the girl with the mild air of desperation, when they really wanted inside the panties of her sexily confident friend. Joe could remember having to make few such choices; he weighed up the options, made his choice based on precisely what he craved on any given evening and usually had his cock thrusting in and out of that choice's wet pussy before midnight. 

Tonight, for example, he had no desire for sophistication, either social or sexual. He could pick out the sleek, moneyed professionals and the pouting College girls at a glance, could see numerous delicate or curvaceous female forms that he would gladly have brought to his bed on another night. The glamorous socialites and glittering disco sirens, however, could leave with whoever else they wanted. This night called for something worthy of the occasion. It called for innocence, absolute purity. A clean page on which to scrawl. He had spent a good half hour casually roving around the club before he saw her. 

***********************

Mary-Jane sipped at her second grasshopper and peered into the dancing crowd to see if she could spy out Pammie. When her friend had been asked to dance some twenty minutes previously, it had occurred to her that abandonment might be her fate; love Pammie though she did, she knew her companion's loyalty would hardly outweigh the appeal of any halfway-attractive boy on an evening such as this one. She did not hold it against the girl; she was perfectly content to sit and observe, while Pammie danced and flirted the night away. Watching men, sometimes candidly photographing them in the local park or down by the lake during high summer, had been a pastime of Mary-Jane's since her early teens; she loved studying finely carved facial features or the ripple of a muscled torso when a man went diving. But her thoughts never strayed far beyond the purely aesthetic. 

Sure she had dated boys, and there had been one fumbling encounter in the back seat of a car with a High School football jock. The guy in question had proved as clumsy as he had been excited. Her breasts had been briefly fondled through the thin material of her blouse and he had carried out some fully-clothed dry humping against her; she had been intrigued by the bulge in the crotch of his jeans, as he did so. His excitement had grown so intense, however, that he appeared to go into some form of seizure, during which he lost control of his whole body and began to shudder and cry out incoherently. It was only afterwards when he mumbled abjectly and drove her home, that she realised he had ejaculated into his own pants. The overriding memory was one of deep embarrassment. Looking, she felt, had its pleasures, minus the possibility of total mortification.


What Men Want Ch. 01



Looking at men like him... Mary-Jane's attention had been flitting bird-like from one guy to the next, but it came to rest on the rather older man in the crisp, dark navy suit, the one drifting with apparent unconcern amongst the tables in her section of the club. He paused on the edge of the dance floor and stared serenely across the room, drinking quietly from his glass. Standing at over six feet, with layered, jet-black hair and strong, classically handsome features, he seemed the embodiment of what Mary-Jane found attractive about the opposite sex. The clothes he wore gave him an air of class without affectation, and hinted at an impressive physique lying beneath. The very way he moved suggested implicitly that he owned the place. She found herself staring; it was only when he turned and his gaze swept over her, that she diverted her eyes. Had he seen her look? She could not be sure, but she risked another furtive glance a moment later, to find him still perusing the swaying masses on the floor.

'Hi there...' Mary-Jane turned and looked up to see a tall, fair-haired boy, not much older than herself, hovering above her. He had the broad shoulders and bulky frame of a sporting type and fitted uncomfortably into the suit he was wearing. 'I was wondering - would you like to dance?' His weight shifted slightly from one foot to the other. 

Mary-Jane was immediately infected by his diffidence and heard herself give her stock response. 'No, sorry - I'm just waiting for my friend. But thanks.' She diverted her eyes from his crushed gaze and waited until he had muttered apologetically and sloped away to wherever he had come from. He had actually been quite good-looking, it occurred to her, but the thought of making small-talk with him while dancing, that was more hassle than she was prepared to cope with. She brought her glass to her lips defensively and glanced off towards the dance floor. The suave older man, she noted, appeared to have moved on...

***********************

Oh God yes, thought Joe, you are exactly what I want. And you've already noticed me. He stood in the shadow of one of the club's great columns and continued to observe the new object of his lust well out of her eye-line. He felt the familiar tingling of excitement in his scrotum, that accompanied the acquisition of a fuck-target. The girl at the table was petite, with small, pretty features and an ingenuous air that placed her, as far as he could be sure, still in High School. That alone made him shiver inwardly with the thrill of the forbidden. 

There was the sophistication of a grown woman in her attire; her top was spaghetti-strapped, showing off her smooth shoulders and arms, and made from wispishly-light, beige chiffon - opaque, but so sheer it clung to the curves of her young breasts like it were see-through. A pattern of darker brown flowers added a touch of modesty to the bust-line. The similarly gauzy material of her skirt brushed her bare legs lightly when she shifted in her seat, and those daringly high heels set off her pretty insteps to perfection. Her loose, ash-brown curls were pinned up, with little tendrils of hair teased artfully downwards around her face and neck. Now this was someone who knew how to make the most of herself. 

Her behaviour, however, told a different story. Her bearing, the way she shifted in her seat, the timidity of her eye-contact, all marked her out an innocent girl. Joe watched as she shook her head in response to the approaches of a well-presented but over-keen young buck - that was the second refusal she had delivered in ten minutes - in the same bashful fashion. He felt sure that this girl had yet to experience a cock pumping inside her. 

And yet she knew how good she looked; she mightn't have been preening or self-absorbed like some of the other girls there that night, but she was fully aware of how many heads she was turning and oh was she enjoying it, however nervous her body-language. A not-quite-accidental prick-tease, drawing bees to her honey and then politely swatting them away. 

The pretty young thing sat in a disco reverie, singing along quietly with the music that swelled through the club. Heaven - must be missing an angel...Joe took a swig from his drink, then he strode out from the column's shade and advanced on her. Time to bring this angel to ground.

***********************

'Good evening.' Mary-Jane was startled by the voice, a voice that held all the assurance lacking in those of her other potential beaux. She looked up again and he was there, his broad, immaculately clad frame towering over her. Her heart thumped, as she recognised the object of her recent scrutiny. He had all the natural attractiveness she had initially thought, and the mature confidence with which he addressed her served to heighten it. 'Now I'm hoping if I ask you to dance, you won't shoot me down like you did those other guys.' He smiled at her with warm self-deprecation and extended an inviting hand.

She did not think to refuse. It was the most natural response in the world to put her hand in his and let him guide her from her seat, even if she was blushing to the roots of her hair as she did so, even if her accepting hand was shaking. 'I'm not a very good dancer,' she said apologetically, her whole body seeming to heat up under the warmth of his gaze. 

'You're in trouble then, I'm John Travolta once I'm out there,' he grinned. She giggled in a thrill of bashful delight and allowed her gorgeous, charming new acquaintance to lead her to the dance floor, studying all the while not to stumble in her heels. She could feel her head spinning, partly from the effects of that second grasshopper and the swirl of lights in which she was submerging herself, partly from the scary excitement of being swept up by the man she had been so thoroughly admiring. The Tavares tune was giving way to The Johnston Brothers' Strawberry Letter 23 and after the initial fraught seconds she found herself relaxing into the rhythm of the music, as if the crowded ebb and flow of this space was her second home. It was her new companion who made it all so simple, with his understated dance floor moves and the gentle humour in his eyes. Dancing within a foot of him, she felt carried by the reassuring way he smiled at her and fell into the same easy motion. She stared back at him, taking in at length those strong, clean features, made all the more sexy by his modish five o'clock stubble. It was all she could do not to betray how young she felt by breaking into a stupid, schoolgirl grin.

'What's your name?' he asked, the fresh citrus of his aftershave washing over her, as he leant in so that their faces almost touched.

'Mary-Jane, but everyone just calls me M-J.' Her nose accidentally brushed his cheek, as she innocently moved in on his ear, and she felt a delighted shiver run through her.

'Well I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, M-J. I'm Joe.' 

'Hi.' She made a determined effort not to simper as she responded. Every word from his mouth proclaimed him such a gentleman; no boy her own age had ever spoken to her with such unforced charm. If only Pammie could see her...

'So you go to College close to here?'

'Not yet, I'm starting College in the Fall.'

'Now come on - you're way too classy and cosmopolitan to be just out of High School!' he said, with a winsome grin. 

She gave what she felt was a very un-classy giggle at his compliment. Had she really shaken off the High School air that Pammie insisted still clung to her? 'You're teasing me,' she laughed. 'I'm only just eighteen!' 

He professed further mock-disbelief, until she started to fumble words in her embarrassment and changed the subject to ask what he did. 'Oh, I teach over at Fraser High,' he told her. 'I'm a wrestling coach...'

Oh my, she thought, fighting the silly giggle that bubbled up inside her. He was almost throwaway as he mentioned his job, yet it sounded so wonderfully sexy. Why couldn't he have taught at my school? she wondered, laughing inwardly at her own secret wish. But then of course, she wouldn't be dancing with him now...

Oh yes, thought Joe. Just turned eighteen, hardly left High School. More a girl than a woman - exactly what he'd imagined. And couldn't have responded more perfectly to his advance. With experienced females a combination of wit and innuendo was most effective, but his self-effacing nice-guy charm was working a better magic here. And the reference to his job, sometimes best not made, was having the same desired effect. He could see young Mary-Jane fairly glow with pride at being seen dancing with him.

He observed the girlish smile that played on her pert features, watched how the gossamer of her blouse traced her sweet body, as she swung to the music. A picture of innocence, with just the merest hint of sexual curiosity rising to the surface. Joe imagined the lissom, young figure, so teasingly hinted at by the girl's blouse and skirt. He had a sudden, vivid image of her, stripped of every stitch she wore, kneeling on all fours and shocked to find herself being vigorously fucked on his bed. The thought heightened his pulse, made the blood pump through him, charging his cock as he danced opposite her. 

There was a recklessness to his thoughts now, wild and liberating. He would make the image a reality, however he had to do it. Yes, he could have suggested a future dinner-date, taken his time to seduce her. But the sexual need was clamouring within him; he wanted her that night, wanted her curvy little High School body impaled on his dick very badly. So caution would have to dispensed with. He would get her away from the club, overwhelm her resistance and take her whatever way he desired. And if she did still resist...he would take her anyway. 

Mary-Jane's head was a-whirl with the turn events had taken amongst the haze of disco lights. The Johnston Brothers song melded into a Donna Summer number and she felt relief as her partner indicated they take a breather. He guided her gently away from the dance space back to her table, drawing out her chair, so she could seat herself. 'Let me get you another drink. What are you having?' 

'A grasshopper,' she responded as demurely as possible, hoping her choice didn't sound girlishly silly. She relaxed into her chair while he fetched drinks from the bar, basking in her new, unexpected adventure. Next week it would be she who had the story to tell, when she met up with Pammie. 'He was sooooo handsome I can't tell you... Not a boy, a real man - but a gentleman - funny and polite and charming... And he's a teacher!' Her friend would be wide-eyed and almost screaming with gossipy delight, as they clung together and dissolved into rapturous giggles. 

'A sophisticated drink for a sophisticated lady.' Joe had returned and he settled in with her cosily at the table, as they sipped their drinks. She felt further tremors in her lower abdomen at her renewed proximity to him. 'So,' he said, with the same relaxed air as before, 'how does a lovely girl like you end up sitting here solo?' 

'Oh, I'm here with my friend Pammie,' she explained, 'only she's vanished somewhere. She does that.'

'What, she abandons you for the whole evening?' asked Joe, his voice full of mock-outrage.

'It's not her fault, she just likes dancing and then she gets carried away. I'm kinda supposed to be stopping over at her place tonight, but if she doesn't show up again, I'll just go home.'

'Well I hope you don't mind being stuck with me in the meantime.'

She laughed again. 'Not at all. Your company's very welcome.' She eyed him coyly over her drink. It was easy to talk to Joe; he was relaxed and unassuming, for all his fine physical attributes, and he began to draw her out - on home life, music, her College aspirations... His presence was intoxicating, although that was possibly also to do with the banana daiquiri he had cajoled her into accepting. 'You have to try one, I can just tell you're going to like it...' And she did. She could not remember having drunk so much before and revelled in the alcoholic buzz. It only enhanced the experience of chatting with her new companion.

Joe liked the way things were progressing, but felt a need to hurry them along. The little poppet was not expected home and had been conveniently deserted by her girlfriend. On the other hand, that same girlfriend could return at any moment and complicate the situation. The additional drink with which he had plied Mary-Jane should have knocked her sufficiently off balance. Time for his next move.

'Look, M-J...' He glanced at his watch. 'I'm leading a pre-season training session in the morning - I should really be getting off soon. Can I give you a lift home? Your friend hasn't shown up...' 

He watched her face light up with excited gratitude. 'That's really nice of you! I don't want you to go out of your way though, I live over in Clinton Township...'

'Not far from me at all,' he said, his cock beginning to stiffen again. 'Trust me, it won't be any trouble.'

Mary-Jane had no qualms about leaving the club without Pammie; she knew her friend too well to suffer any serious pangs of conscience. Surely Pammie would have encouraged her to accept the chivalry of such a well-mannered and good-looking gentleman. She wove her way unsteadily through the party crowd, but it was only when she stepped out into the cool of the night, that her alcohol intake truly caught up with her. Joe caught and steadied her as she stumbled on the tarmac, then guided her solicitously to the parking lot and his waiting silver-blue sports car. He opened the door for her and she slipped inside, subsiding dreamily into the sumptuously upholstered passenger seat. 

'You okay?' Joe inquired, seating himself beside her. 'Maybe the daiquiri wasn't such a good idea.' He closed the car door, sealing his happily reclining passenger from the outside world and any niggling chance of rescue. Job as good as done.

'I'm fine,' Mary-Jane laughed, fighting her wooziness, as he pulled out of the lot. 'I really enjoyed the drink.' She nestled into the seat and succumbed to the daydream of narrating her story to Pammie. 'And then he drove me home, left me off right to the door. He opened the car door and everything...' 

She could hear her friend's response. So did he kiss you? Say he wanted to see you again? That was Pam. The imagined questions, however, sped up her heart rate quite distinctly. Joe was certainly a gentleman, had paid her the compliment of spending the evening with her and was even thoughtful enough to taxi her home. But would someone as mature as him want to spend any further time with a girl just out of High School? 

'M-J, look, I've just remembered - there are one or two calls I should really make before it gets too late. Would you mind terribly if I stopped off at my place on the way, just for a few minutes? I won't keep you long, I promise.'

Mary-Jane blinked and roused herself from her dreamy reverie. 'Sure, that's okay.' Joe turned off at the next junction and she sat up a little in her seat, keen to savour her extra little bit of time in his company. Wow, an extra morsel for the tale she would share with Pammie. He even let me see where he lives!' 

Driving the final few blocks to his home, Joe felt a rush of excitement, the like of which he had not experienced in years. This girl was every bit as naïve as he had hoped; not the least glimmer of suspicion could be detected in her voice. She was walking open-eyed into the trap, one that would spring as soon as his front door shut behind her. He sensed every rhythm in his body quicken, as he contemplated the delicious hours ahead. In all his years as a High School teacher he had exerted discipline where his hankering after Senior girls was concerned, even if they attended a school other than Fraser. However much his desire for those newly-developed young bodies had crazed him, he had jerked it off secretly and taken out his frustrations on willing College girls at the weekend. Tonight, however, would see a glorious transgression of his own rule. His cock grew rampant in his pants, as he contemplated the ways he would bone the little sweetheart who sat unwittingly next to him in the car. As he turned the corner into his own street, he could barely contain the shudders that ran through his body. It was as though the lust were welling up from a great cistern within him, so that he could barely contain it. Get her in the house - just get her in the house... Then he had all evening to siphon off every last drop inside her. 'Almost there,' he said.

Mary-Jane gazed out at the broad, tree-lined boulevard, along which Joe was driving. Wow, he lived in a really nice neighbourhood. The car drew up outside a sizeable, single-storey ranch house, fronted, like the other houses on the block, by a well-kept garden, resplendent with flowers and bushes. 'Well, here we are,' said Joe. He climbed from the car and appeared a moment later by the passenger door, which he opened, ushering her out. 'Come on in while I make the call - can't have you sitting outside in the car.'

She beamed at his further display of gallantry and climbed from the vehicle, steadying herself on his arm as she did so. The street lamps threw a wash of light over the front of the house, showing off its fieldstone cladding. The building had a solid, masculine feel to it, that seemed to compliment its owner perfectly. Mary-Jane strolled up the garden path to the front door, admiring all she saw. Joe caught up with her at the heavy oak front door and unlocked it, holding the door open for her to enter. She peered into a broad, low-lit hallway. So this was the type of house in which a single gentleman lived. This was Joe's place... She stepped inside, fascinated.

Joe watched how the folds of Mary-Jane's filmy skirt swished against her smooth calves, how the delicate muscles of her feminine shoulders fluttered a little, as she walked into his home. She stopped and looked around, apparently absorbed in the details of the place, her bare arms hanging simply by her sides. Joe turned and shut the door deliberately. It was done. He had netted the prettiest specimen in The Butterfly Suite and from the way his great erection was tightening against the material of his pants, he was all primed to pin her. Care had been required from the moment he left the car to keep the stiffness of his member a secret from his young guest, but it was time to share that secret. He let Mary-Jane wander a little further down the hallway, stood watching as she brushed a curling strand of hair from her cheek. For just a few more exquisite moments he held down the lust that boiled and seethed within him, then he gave himself up to it and moved in on his pretty, heedless young captive. 

Mary-Jane took in the clean simplicity of Joe's décor, delighting in the distinctly male ambience of his living space - the dark green carpeting and expanses of white wall, just occasionally broken by a framed print. This was a nice, middle-class dwelling, but one definitely owned by a single man - albeit a man of taste, intelligence and maturity. How privileged she was to get to know him, to have him treat her not as a student, but on a proper adult... Her thoughts were interrupted by the touch of Joe's hand on the bare skin of her shoulder and she turned in smiling response. 

He was on her before she knew it. Her host grabbed her by the waist with one hand as she swung about, and dragged her tight into him. She made to gasp, but his mouth descended and closed on hers before she could utter a sound; he kissed her hard, his other hand cleaving to the back of her head, so that she had no choice but to accept his tongue as it dove into her mouth. It happened so fast, that she offered no resistance as he shoved her against the wall, almost lifting her off her feet as he did so. His body was still crushed against her, his mouth locked on hers with near-carnivorous intent. Her senses were consumed with the spice of his cologne and the sharpness of freshly-drunk whiskey, with his forceful grip on her body and the rude intrusion of his deep-thrusting tongue.




What Men Want Ch. 01



Her body tensed and held back for a mere instant, before relenting and thawing under the heat of his rough embrace; her hands ceased their momentary flailing and wilted by her sides, as her trembling form was squeezed to his strong, athletic frame. The beautiful, charming man, who had rescued her so gallantly from an evening of solitude, who had treated her like such a lady, was pressing his fierce physical attentions on her, as if suddenly possessed by desire for her body. The turnabout filled her with alarm and sudden, unexpected excitement. Her hands slipped around his waist and she let him kiss her as ravenously as he wanted to, her inexperienced tongue responding to the probing explorations of his. 

As her feminine slimness melted into his solid bulk, she became fully conscious of his arousal, pressed hard and implacable against her loins. She had felt concealed, male excitement close to her before, but only with a callow teenage boy - not with a grown, experienced man, who so obviously knew how to take what he wanted. The surface of her body felt aflame with sensation; her nipples were tingling, her belly was fluttering madly, in a way that even her late-night touching of herself had not achieved. It terrified her. She wanted to break away and run for the door, and she hoped it would never stop.

How long it was before he broke the kiss, minutes or seconds, she could scarcely have said. When he did, he stared at her for a moment, his face suffused with some emotion the intensity of which she had never seen in her young life. Then he bent down, slipped a hand behind her knees and hoisted her bodily off the floor. She grabbed a startled hand to his shoulder to secure herself and looked at him astonished, as he set off carrying her through the house. It was so obvious what was on the way - she wasn't that naïve. She was like a bride, being carried to her honeymoon bed, only Joe's face registered something very different from wedded bliss. He was as handsome as before, but the genially kind expression she had seen back as the club had been transfigured into...not quite cruelty, but hard, determined lust. 

This is it, I'm going to lose my virginity! Mary-Jane felt a surge of panic in her chest, as she was borne the length of the hallway. Joe, this man who she hardly knew, was about to have her on his bed. She had not realised what was expected of her that night, but had apparently been setting herself up for it all evening! She was in the power of a grown man, obviously practised in the ways of sex. Did he even know she was a virgin? Did he assume she knew how to respond to him? She had no notion of what to do. She was a clumsy, clueless girl, just past her eighteenth birthday - she knew nothing! Her fear was less of imminent ravishment, more of how foolish she would appear in front of this worldly adult male.

He swung her through a doorway and she found herself in the room she had expected, found it already lit in readiness with several lamps... Joe released her suddenly and she tumbled with a little cry on to the bed. She propped herself up, panting and bewildered, on a dark maroon bedspread. The man who had sprung the surprise fixed her with the same heat-charged look as before. 'Take off all your clothes.' There was no anger in his voice, just the absolute, lust-soaked conviction that she would do as she was told. It did not seem to occur to him that she might hesitate, let alone refuse. Her mind reeled, fuzzed as it still was with alcohol. Her innocent sense of romance and the secret, decadent thoughts inspired by her night-time reading had always been separate parts of her life; now in Joe's Jekyll and Hyde transformation they seemed to be colliding crazily. Scared and helpless in the face of her abductor's softly arrogant demand, she climbed meekly from the bed, wobbling a little in her heels as she did so, and began to undress.

Joe leaned casually against the bedroom wall and savoured the moment. His heart was still racing from having jumped Mary-Jane in the hallway. One more night and he could have simply charmed her out of her sweet little panties, that much was obvious, but to go half that journey and then take sudden control of her when her guard was down was vastly more exciting. He had read the little darling well. One second's resistance and she had yielded herself to his lustful assault. Now frightened, overpowered and beneath it all clearly aroused, she was about to prove herself a very good girl, by Christ she was. 

He watched in quiet, erectile delight, as she removed her clothing one item at a time. It was the most hesitant striptease he had ever witnessed and that made it all the more delicious. She loosed her shoes first, supporting herself on the bed's footboard, and slipped her exquisite feet out of them, so that she stood a dainty five foot four, or thereabouts, on the carpet. No longer able to meet his eye, she hung her head and began to turn away, as she unfastened her skirt.

'Keep facing me,' he told her with a voice of velvet-edged steel. 'I want to see you as you strip.' She halted and continued removing her skirt, eyes still cast to the floor. The fine material rustled against her skin, as she lowered it down to her ankles and stepped free. Joe's eyes wandered appreciatively over the smooth curves of her legs and that pert, little backside, barely clad in bikini-string, beige panties, as she painstakingly folded the piece of clothing and laid in on a bedside chair. Then she set about what he knew she had put off as long as she could - the removal of the silky top that alone concealed her bosom. She crossed her arms and took hold of the garment at both sides, then in a single move she peeled the top upwards, over her head and free of herself, revealing to him her youthfully curved upper body. Her skin, he could see in the bright lamp-light, had a rich honey tone to it. Her breasts were high and full, big in relation to her slender, diminutive form, and with delectable, raised nipples, larger than quarters and the colour of plum.

She laid her top over the skirt and continued on, her fingers plucking hesitantly at the sides of her tiny panties. In her near-total exposure she looked up at Joe and froze for the first time. 'Get naked,' he instructed her, adding a touch more rigour to his voice. His cock spasmed, as she pulled the panties away from her hips and stepped out of them, displaying the neatly-trimmed prettiness of her pussy. Joe gazed in quietly lecherous admiration at what he was shortly going to fuck.

Mary-Jane's toes curled and her feet arched involuntarily, as she stood in her naked shame. She felt lonely and utterly vulnerable, with Joe's eyes feasting on her, but in some corner of her mind she hoped nonetheless that he approved of what he saw. He was strolling almost idly towards her, his erection bulging prominently in his pants; slipping off his jacket, tugging his tie free of its knot and casting both garments on to the same chair where Mary-Jane had carefully laid her things. How had she gotten herself into this situation? How had she been so stupid? She did not even know what this man was capable of, whether he might turn into something even more dangerous...

As he drew close, he took hold of her waist with strong hands and hoisted her roughly on to tiptoe, pulling her hard against him, so that she felt the smooth silk of his shirt against her breasts, the solidly-filled crotch of his pants against her lower stomach. He lowered his face to hers and kissed her again, but more sensually than before, his tongue stroking its way subtly into her open mouth. She responded as before in the hall, kissing him in return, flicking her tongue against his. Trying to give him what she felt he wanted. Just for a moment they seemed like lovers in some movie romance.

Joe withdrew his lips from Mary-Jane's and stared at her face; it was still a picture of dizzy apprehension. 'It's okay,' he told her, tracing her high cheek-bone tenderly with his finger. 'You're not going to come to any harm. Later tonight I'll drop you off home and in the morning you'll wake up safely in your own bed.' He added a loving caress to his voice and stroked her head gently. It would be fun to toy with her a little, before putting her to work. 'But right now you're here with me and you're going to make me feel good whatever way I tell you to.' He leaned in and whispered into her delicate ear. 'Nobody knows where you are, M-J. Pammie will be too busy making out with some guy to worry, and your mom and dad will be going to bed, happy to think you're stopping over with your friend. I wonder what your dad would think, if he knew where his little girl really was and what she was about to do...' 

He slid his hands down over the warm, downy cheeks of her ass and pulled her tighter to his hard dick. 'You go out dressed so prettily and so sexily, and you have no idea what you do to all the boys who look at you - no idea of what they really want to do to you when they ask you to dance.' He ran his tongue lightly inside her ear, making her gasp and tense her stomach. 'Well tonight I'm going to show you. I'm going to show you it all.' He released his hold on her and looked her full in the face once more, with an expression as serious as death. 'Get down on your knees.' 

Mary-Jane complied instantly; either he had taken possession of her will, or she simply knew that if she held back, he would force her anyway. His words had calmed, then terrified her; just what was he going to make her do? But she had read the most explicit passages in The Violation of Violet so many times, remembered so vividly all Violet had been forced to perform, that perhaps she already knew the answer. She certainly knew why she was dropping to the carpet, kneeling before the straining zipper of his pants, waiting like an obedient hand-maiden for further instruction, as he stroked her hair.

'Take my cock out of my trousers.' There was relish in the way he said it, and perhaps a touch of enjoyment that he knew she would do it without question. She took hold of his belt buckle and pulled the strap aside to unhook it, her heart drumming in her chest at the thought of what she was about to uncover. She had read descriptions in her book, had seen sketches in science text books, but for the first time was to be confronted with the genuine article. Fear might have held her back, but necessity and, yes, an undeniable, pussy-tingling curiosity spurred her forward. She fumbled with the clasp on his pants for a moment before freeing it, then she tugged the zipper all the way down, feeling its resistance to the seemingly powerful organ that pressed against it from within. It felt like she were freeing some awesome beast from its pent-up confines. Holding her breath, she pulled the pants clear of Joe's hips.

The shape and impressive size of his manhood was more apparent under his shorts, taut as it was against the tight cotton material. She stared at how the length and thickness were emphasized by the restricting fabric, how the great bulge at the top tried to push its way through to freedom. Her fingers tugged tentatively at the elastic waistband; she did not know whether to peel them away slowly, revealing a little at a time, or just to tear them off and see what confronted her at a shot. Joe's breathing was heavy with anticipation, as if urging her to get on with it, yet she could not quite bring herself finally to expose him. 'Come on M-J, we both know you want to have a good look. Just do it.' She gripped the waistband, held her breath and yanked the shorts briskly downwards.

Joe's cock seemed to leap out at her aggressively - the word 'penis' was too clinical to describe so fearsome a thing, this was most certainly a 'cock' - then it swayed upright before her astonished gaze. It was like some uniquely male architectural wonder - a dense, flesh construction, with a great domed head, that towered upwards from the dark hair curled around its base and pointed towards the ceiling, terrifying and magnificent. Mary-Jane let out a gasp of fearful wonder and reached out to touch it, as was surely expected of her. It twitched visibly when her fingers brushed its surface, as if it had a life of its own. She nearly jumped, felt an instinctive urge to shy away from it, yet something in her still marvelled at its strange, masculine beauty.

'Now put your mouth to it.' Joe's voice was husky and constrained. She had been expecting the command and brought her lips dutifully to the cock's swollen mushroom-head. The sensation, as it slipped into her mouth, was bizarre; it was velvety, yet utterly hard and pulsing with warm life. She was unsure of what to do next, but Joe stroked her face and let her know. 'Run your tongue over the head.' She withdrew a moment, to work up some saliva in her dry mouth, then she took hold of the iron shaft and circled her newly wet tongue over the surface of the glans - that was the word her book had used - working back and forth several times with the same motion. Joe uttered a little groan of approval. 'Now lick just under the head - right here...' He relocated himself with his hand, so that Mary-Jane could dig in the tip of her tongue just below the engorged hood. 'That's right, now flick your tongue there, fast...' She applied a rapid back and forth flicking motion, one that had the desired effect; an ecstasy seemed to thrill his whole body. 'Oh God yes - fuck, that's nice. Keep going...'

It was obvious Joe knew just what he wanted - had learnt from experience exactly what made him feel good. She followed each direction with anxious diligence, hoping it would go better for her if she made a good impression, hoping she would satisfy him. Sliding a saliva-trail down the broad, thickly-veined underside of his shaft, lapping underneath his inflated balls, searching out that tender flesh-highway linking his tight sac to his asshole - it was a close-up, scarily instructive introduction to the erect male organ and how it might best be orally stimulated. Joe muttered his quietly intense appreciation each time she hit the spot: 'That's good, keep it there, just like that...' She could hear the breath rushing from his lips, as if he were controlling the waves of pleasure that rolled over him. 'Okay.' He lifted her head with the palm of one hand. 'Now suck me.' She wrapped her mouth once more around that great bulbous head, the size and colour of a ripening plum, and began to suck on his cock. If she had thought it could not get any harder, she was proved wrong; she could feel it swelling, galvanizing on her tongue, becoming big with potency. A salty flavour was there on her taste buds, from what she knew had leaked from its eye. She felt appalled and amazed by what she was being made to do. 

In his excitement Joe began stripping off his shirt, feeling that sudden, urgent need to be naked. He tossed the garment aside and returned both hands to the back of Mary-Jane's busy head, cradled it gently as she worked on him. 'Oh fuck, that feels so good. Get the shaft wet - go on, suck the shaft, use your tongue...' He felt her take more of him inside her, slide her lips down his rigid column, bathe him in the juices of her mouth. 'That's my good girl, keep sucking my cock, that feels real nice...' 

He'd had so many more-experienced mouths go down on him, mouths with well-honed technique. But there was a very special joy, he thought, in teaching a frightened little virgin how to suck dick. So his life had been short on breaks recently - fuck all that. Alone with pretty, naked young M-J, using his erect prick to train up her hot, succulent mouth, life was sweet again - and soon to get much sweeter. It was almost time to fire off shot number one and he knew just where it was going. 'Look at me,' he ordered, his arousal increasing at the very thought of what was next. She stared up at him with startled, dark blue eyes, her mouth full with his cock. 'Keep sucking, that's it - suck harder, use your mouth...' She kept her eyes fastened on his and intensified her rhythmic sucking on the foremost few stiff inches. Ardent lust flared inside him with the increased suction and he tightened his grip on her head, causing her eyes to widen in surprise.

'Alright M-J... Now I'm going to fuck your pretty face.'

Mary-Jane hadn't any time to take in his meaning, before he pulled on the back of her head, bearing her down on to the full length of his cock. It filled her whole mouth and she thought for a moment she would wretch, as its thick solidity glided over the back of her tongue. The massive dick kept going, however, its full length squelching down into her very throat, packing it with its solid mass. Her lips stretched in a giant O around the thick base of Joe's shaft; his pubic hair was tickling her nose and her chin was pressed right up against his scrotum. Only her pointlessly flapping hands could express the alarm she felt at having her face and throat crammed so completely with his hard maleness.

'Breath through your nose,' he told her in a calm, though constricted voice. 'Go on, let's see you breath through your nose...' He held her there for some seconds and she managed to relax herself enough to draw in air under the duress of this huge foreign body, plunged beyond the root of her tongue. 'That's good, keep that up,' he said, approvingly. 'Okay...' There was serious intent in the final word that she didn't understand, until he firmed up his grip once more and began to slide his cock in and out of the tight channel of her gullet. He was moving his whole body now, his breath growing ragged and catching in the back of his own throat, as he started to actively pump himself into her gaping oral cavity. 

'Oh fuck yes, that's it...' Joe was muttering to himself again. 'Fuck that throat...' Then he paused a moment, holding her fast to his stomach, while she sucked air through her nose and attempted not to swallow with her throat so full. She felt the pins being plucked out of her hair, so that her curls tumbled freely down her back. He had obviously deposited them somewhere, for he used a free hand to gather up the tresses into a single thick strand, which he grasped tight to her scalp. Clutching her tightly by the hair, he drew his cock backwards out of her throat and plunged it back in again to the balls. Then he set about the same move repeatedly. 

Mary-Jane was staggered by the crazed oral assault. He was ploughing her tight airway like - like it was a vagina! Fucking her face! Sometimes he would pull out completely and she would gasp for air, as his dick bounced, hard and dripping, before her gaze. Then he would slot it back in again and resume the reckless pounding of her throat, grunting heatedly all the while. Her face slapped into his belly each time his cock-head drove deep towards her trachea and she suddenly knew he would not be turning back from this. She knew what happened to the men in her book when they got this excited.

'Oh God, oh shit M-J, I'm going to come down your throat...' Well she had got that one right... 'Oh God, oh God, oh Gggoddd...' He pulled her face flat against his stomach in what sounded like a moment of pure lustful ecstasy. Fresh, hot seed gushed profusely down her gullet. She could trace the burning sensation it made in her oesophagus, as it rivered towards her belly.

Joe emptied shot on shot of cum into Mary-Jane, crushing her lovely face to his stomach as he did so, his jetting cock-head stuffed gloriously far down her throat. To treat such a sweet girl so selfishly, with such total disregard for anything other than his own pleasure - well life just didn't get any better, did it? The last of the orgasm rippled through him and his coital snarl eased into a satisfied smile. It was one of more than just sexual release, although following the initial draining of his balls that was considerable; it was the knowledge that he could reload so quickly. His sexually recuperative abilities had taken his female conquests by storm over a twenty year period and in his latter thirties they showed little sign of abating. A talent he had seemingly been born with, it had proved a curse during lengthy working days or in heavy traffic, but on a night such as this it was a beautiful gift. How surprised his young guest would be, when he moved on to her next target without pause. 




What Men Want Ch. 01



He eased his grip on her head, but kept her there for a moment, his passive organ still taking up serious space in her mouth. 'Lick me clean,' he ordered softly, letting her go.

Mary-Jane emptied her mouth with relief, her throat still hot from the sticky stream that had cascaded down it. She ran her tongue around the spermy head of Joe's still bobbing cock; the taste was of corn-flour, she thought distractedly. 'Suck me some more.' She did, guzzling intently on the bulged end and extracting a few more drops of cum. But the penis did not turn slack as she had expected. It had lost the merest edge of hardness after its ejaculation, but had retained virtually all its size, and as she sucked, it swelled fully erect once more, reasserted itself, as if primed to pump her throat all over again.

Then she felt herself prised off him, so that his member bounced gently before her. He raised her to her feet and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her softly on the forehead. 'Good girl,' he said. 'You're a quick learner.' He breathed deeply and stared meaningfully into her eyes. 'And now Mary-Jane - now I'm going to fuck you properly.'

TO BE CONTINUED...

ALL FEEDBACK APPRECIATED 



What Men Want Ch. 02



(Virginal Mary-Jane has just finished High-School and is out celebrating. Joe is a 38-year-old teacher, recently divorced, who picks her out at a night-club as the girl with whom he would like to have a celebration of his own. Having lured her back to his home, he makes her strip and insists that he pleasure him orally. But the evening is only beginning. For full appreciation of the story, I strongly suggest you read Chapter One...)

*

Somewhere in Mary-Jane's mind had lurked a vague idea that Joe would make do with offloading himself into her stomach, but as he took her by the arm and propelled her insistently down on to the bed, she realised with a lurching heart that it was not to be. At least, she consoled herself, he was not going to hurt her, not in any sadistic sense at any rate. He was just going to take her sexually any way he chose. She sat on the foot of the bed in helpless anticipation, as Joe tore himself free of shoes, socks and trousers. Then he stood before her, majestically naked, his bodily frame worked hard through athletic endeavour. His skin was swarthy, with a smattering of dark hair, just the way she liked it when covertly photographing men down by the lake during summer. Only this time that great, self-standing, masculine rod was on display to complete the picture. Even in her plight she had to acknowledge - her ravisher looked fabulous. And somehow, she could not have begun to say why, she wanted to please him, was almost desperate to make him happy. 'Go on, move up the bed.' He bore down on her, his cock swaying in front of him, and she scrambled backwards over the heavy bedspread with Joe prowling after her, like a beast choosing its moment to pounce.

Joe gazed on her again, with her wide-eyed, frightened-deer innocence and her erotic little body - those fully curved, big-nippled breasts of hers and those soft, gently shivering thighs, framing that secret little pussy-hole. Newly come of age and about to be seriously fucked for the first time. He crawled between her opening legs, and progressed low over her body, the peaks of her breasts brushing his chest, as he came face to face with her. Deftly he reached down and ran his fingers over her vulva, making her gasp. Yes, there was moisture there, but not yet enough to ease his passage inside her. 

He kissed her feverish mouth, felt her tongue cleave to his once more and loved how she responded. Then he raised himself to his knees, took her breasts like firm, ripe peaches in his hands and groped them as she moaned and shut her eyes, hauling her off the bed at one point, so strong was his grip on her tits. She cried out a little in fright and he dropped her back down, descending in pursuit of her body and sucking up one of her nipples in his mouth, thrashing it vigorously with his tongue till it was hard. Now he heard her muttering noises of reluctant enjoyment, so he went to work on her other nipple, flicking and sucking it into erectness like the first. The same fingers as before probed between her pussy lips and discovered a deal more wetness than before. He released her well-sucked breast from his mouth and smiled at her in victory. It was time.

Mary-Jane's mind danced in a conflict of anxiety and excitement. She had not asked for the sensations which this man was wresting from her body. She had not offered her chaste sex up to him. Yet here he was, fitting his cock between her thighs, pressing it up against the entrance to her secret place... Where would he fit that massive organ, was there room up there? She had heard over and over that it hurt the first time - but how much? Joe was in press-up position, his face looming somewhere above hers, wearing an expression close to triumph. She tensed her body in expectation of what she was not sure. Then she felt the lips of her vagina prised apart... and he pushed. There was a sharp, rending pain that made her yelp aloud, then an awareness of his solid thickness right there, intruding into the tight space between her thighs. Oh God, he was inside her.

So she IS a virgin. What a sweet affirmation it was for Joe. How precious to break young M-J's hymen before anyone else got there. How perfect to do what he now did - to hold his head there for a moment, just past her slick maidenly entrance, before sinking himself with one full thrust into her previously unfucked pussy. To see her throw her head back against the pillow and cry out, as she was filled with cock for the first time. He gathered her tender body close to him on the bed, so that those lovely C-cup titties squeezed up against him, and prepared to take full advantage.

Oh my God!!! Mary-Jane thought she might swoon, as her untrained passageway was opened up and overloaded with that great iron shaft. It felt gigantic inside her, a breathtakingly hard male intrusion into her young body. He held himself there, clutching her back with strong hands, his broad wrestler's torso pressed against her bosom. She felt he could crush the breath from her lungs if he chose. 'Look at me, M-J,' she was instructed. 'Look at me while I fuck you.' Her eyes flicked to his and she felt his steely, blue-grey pupils boring into her, as he began to move his body on hers. His cock glided slowly back and forth inside her, its journey eased by the juices she had secreted in response to his mouth on her breasts. The initial pain had abated and been replaced by an overwhelming sense of his bigness - filling her, stretching back her walls and tunnelling its way to her very centre. He's taking my virginity, I can't believe it - he's taking my virginity... She was astounded too at the elastic property of her own pussy, how it could expand to take him all in. 

He was starting to move faster and more fluidly now, his fingers brushing her face and his eyes still burning deep into hers, as he delivered long, even strokes, each of which packed his cock deep inside her. She could hear herself emit a little plaintive moan each time he thrust, a sound that seemed to compete with his regular involuntary grunt. 'Wrap your legs around me,' he told her. 'Go on, wrap those legs round my back. I want to go deeper.' Deeper? If he went any deeper, she thought, he might spear his way into her very chest cavity, but if that was what he wanted, if that would make it better for him...

How often, thought Joe, did you get to fuck pussy like this? Tight, young pussy that just moulded itself around the surface of your dick and squeezed. Fresh, juicy pussy, unprobed by any other rod. As Mary-Jane hooked her feet around his back, opened herself wide on his instruction, he thanked his stars and drove himself into that narrow, moistened crevice, until his cock-head connected with her cervix. She let out a startled cry, so he drew back and gave it to her again. And again. And then again. Fucking her deep, fucking her as if she were used to it.

'That's nice, M-J,' he panted, speeding up his rhythm and driving just as far. 'Stay like that. Take it like a good girl.' He was screwing her in earnest now, giving her a good, grown-up pumping - opening up that tight cunt. 'Keep your eyes on me!' he ordered, as her head began to loll distractedly about the pillow. Her reddened face turned back to his and she tried to regain focus. 'That's good... Now any time in the future some guy fucks you nice, just remember he really wants to do you like this.' And he let her have it even harder.

Mary-Jane could only lie there, her petite heels clinging to the strong back of her handsome captor, as he took his full pleasure. She wasn't being made love to - she was being fucked, she was being shafted, and every time her pussy was forced wide open by that plunging ramrod, she knew it. If Joe had any idea he was taking her girlhood, he obviously didn't give a shit. He was only interested in his own pounding, sweating, groaning enjoyment. His compact weight pressed down on her and droplets of sweat fell on to her face from his, as their bodies impacted. She felt she had given up all ownership of herself; all she knew was this urgent, throbbing presence inside her and that she was starting to respond to it physically. Starting to respond to his excitement. 

Joe could feel the young pelvis moving in sync with his own for the first time. Her suddenly hardened nipples were protruding into his chest, her cunt self-lubricating and opening up to receive him completely. As she lay there scarlet-faced and helpless in his gripping arms, her body was yielding itself up to him, whether or not she wanted it. Pretty M-J was getting horny and it drove him wild, made him want to fuck her through the mattress. On fire with lust, he unleashed a barrage of furious strokes, his cock reaming its path to the very heart of his honey-skinned teen-girl. Forget delivering a long, slow screw - now he just wanted to bang the fuck out of her and get himself off again. He drove himself hard and relentlessly towards his satisfaction.

Oh-oh-oh- The sound was in her head, maybe she was shouting it out loud as well... Joe was fucking her like a machine gone out of control. He was skewering her to depths that she hadn't known were possible, invading and conquering her with his hardness, and she was - she could scarcely believe it - she was enjoying it! Enjoying the way this charming-man-turned-brute was furiously drilling her, as if all life depended on it. Enjoying the determined set of his jaw, the wildness in his eyes, the way his breath quickened, as he approached his...his... Oh God... Before she could dwell on the fact that he was about to come inside her pussy, he pulled himself out, clambered on to his knees and dragged her upwards, so that she was staring at his livid, pulsing cock, fresh from inside her.

'Suck it!' he demanded urgently. 'Suck it now!' She opened her mouth and let him shove himself inside, already hot and spasming. Her lips had only just wrapped around him, her mind only registered the musky taste of her own juice on his surface, when he spurted over her tongue, drenching her taste-buds in the salty flavour of his cum once more. 

'Ohhhhhhh - fuck!' Joe's hips bucked, driving his cock repeatedly to the back of Mary-Jane's mouth, as his body divested itself of another sperm-load. He ended with a long, aching groan, as all his desire drained itself free of his body, into his nubile companion. 'Lick it all off my cock, that's a good girl. Go on, swallow it down - take your medicine.' He steadied himself and watched to make sure that she swallowed every trace. Oh yes - how perfect to finish off in a young girl's mouth.

Mary-Jane felt Joe's cock depart her once more and she subsided into a sweat-drenched haze, as he climbed off the bed and walked out of the room. Her mouth was suffused with the taste of his cum and there was a dull throb in her newly banged pussy. He had fucked her so, so deep and with such little restraint... She stared at the ceiling in an exhausted daze, wondering vaguely if she would allowed to get dressed and go home now. Joe returned a moment later, planting a soft kiss on her passive lips, then sat her up and placed on of two glasses of water in her hand. She drank gratefully and silently alongside him, the cool water refreshing her throat, following its second inundation with hot sperm. 

She was allowed to finish, before Joe set both glasses aside and drew her wordlessly from the bed. His penis, she noticed, was hanging slack and heavy, but had not lost all of its earlier red-hued anger. He had taken her hand and was trailing her back into the hallway. She want with him as passively as a lamb, all power stripped from her along with her clothing and her virginity. She had no idea where they were going, but sensed that she was returning to her parents' house no time soon. Naked they walked through the house, like a lustful Adam and his newly deflowered Eve. At least one of them was experiencing Paradise that evening, of that much she was sure.

Her pussy was aching, a reminder if she needed one of how fully her innocence had been taken from her by Joe's ravaging cock. She felt her skin prickle, as the sweat evaporated from its surface. Joe was leading her into his open-plan living and dining area, flicking switches as he went. The light was bright in contrast to the bedroom and Mary-Jane felt her nakedness thrown into harsh, discomfiting relief. She glanced around to see the same evidence as in the hall of a house just recently moved into - sparsely furnished, with a few pieces of Japanese artwork on the walls. Similar paintings had hung in the bedroom, she hazily recalled; there had been too many potent distractions for her to take in a great deal more.

She stopped short of the dining-room table, with an electric jolt in her chest. In the centre of the table sat a silver tray, on which was heaped a mound of fine white powder, surrounded by various related accoutrements. She had seen enough television crime shows in her life to know what was going on here. Joe let go her hand and moved to the tray, where he scooped a liberal helping of the floury substance on to a small square of mirror. He then picked up a thoughtfully set-out razor blade and divided the powder neatly into three lines. It was obvious he was practised in what he was doing, furthermore that everything had been laid out carefully earlier on. It struck Mary-Jane fleetingly that an awful lot of planning had gone into this evening.

'You want some?' he asked quite seriously, picking up a tiny tube of engraved silver. 

'No,' she said, startled and hoping desperately that he would not force her to try any. 'No thanks, I don't do that.' How could he even imagine it something she would do? What type of a girl did he think he had in his house? But even as those thoughts occurred to her, she still hoped her refusal would not displease him. 

Her host, however, seemed unconcerned. 'Sure, whatever.' Bending down to the table, he applied the miniature tube to his nose and within a matter of seconds had efficiently snorted up all three lines of cocaine. Mary-Jane watched in wide-eyed astonishment. A High School teacher, taking class-A drugs in front of her, as casually as though he were popping a breath mint. A High School teacher who had just fucked HER - a girl who last Spring could have been a student at his school. And he had seemed so perfect... She observed the muscular flex of his broad back and hard buttocks, as he finished taking his hit, and wondered at how she still found this appalling, debauched man attractive. 

It amused Joe that Mary-Jane had seemed as shocked by the cocaine as by the recent introduction into her body of his dick. Quite the little suburban goody-two-shoes. Well she was having her cosy world shaken up tonight, that was for sure, and it wasn't over yet. 'Let's go sit down,' he said, having wiped clean his irritated nostrils. He took her by the wrist and she padded with mute obedience over the carpet, back to the living-area. 'Go on, relax.' He guided her smooth, eighteen-year-old bottom down beside him on the living-room's red leather sofa, then he picked up the TV remote and flicked through the channels, until he hit on a re-run of Dallas. He settled back, his hand resting intimately on Mary-Jane's, and let the drug course its way through his bloodstream.

He was under no illusion that cocaine directly enhanced his sexual performance, nor did he need any help in that regard; already his body was reviving, in preparation for another energetic bout of copulation. But it did serve to sharpen his senses, heighten his enjoyment - motivate him to deliver a better, longer, harder fuck mid-way through a long evening session. And there it was - the beginning of his rush, stimulating his whole system, increasing his sensory awareness of the warm, lithe body beside him. He could almost sense the blood pumping back to engorge his dick all over again.

Mary-Jane was barely aware of what show she was watching. How she had ended up sitting nude on the sofa of an equally naked, cocaine-snorting stranger twice her age, she could not fathom. Two hours previously she had been chatting animatedly with her friend under the disco lights about boys and College and music. Now a prisoner some few miles from her own home, she was divested of clothes and dignity, the sexual plaything of a depraved, albeit good-looking High School teacher. 

She could sense this was only a respite, that soon Joe was going to fuck her again and at least as hard as the last time. She wondered if her pussy could take it, throbbing as it was from its premier pounding. Yet at the same time she was near-desperate not to seem like a silly girl; somehow she still wanted to be a proper woman for him. He deserved nothing from her and she knew it, but there it was in the heart of her - an unaccountable, perverse desire to bring him satisfaction. Why...? She perceived some rhythmic movement beside her and glanced cautiously to see what it was. Her sofa buddy was still watching television, while steadily stroking his cock.

There it was, thought Joe - old faithful. Stirring to life, getting ready to deliver. Joe crept his hand to Mary-Jane's inner thigh and instantly increased the flow of blood to his swelling cock. His fingers pressed into the buttery softness of her flesh close by her pussy, and he enjoyed the resultant quickening of her breath, letting it fuel his masturbation. He slid his hand upwards, raking his fingers through her cropped pubic hair, exploring the smooth concave of her stomach under his palm, ultimately cupping her breast and kneading it firmly. He spat on his fingers and felt her body shuddering under his touch, as he traced them around her broad areola, before tugging on the engorged point of her nipple. She gave a helpless little aching moan - it seemed the most erotic sound he had ever heard. In his hand his cock turned to tempered steel.

Mary-Jane squirmed under Joe's touch, currents of shameful excitement running through her body. This man scarcely knew her, yet he acted like it was his place to do with her body whatever he liked! Had she acted in the club like this was what she wanted? Was it because she had kissed him back? Did he think her a tease?

She felt him release his hold on her breast as he suddenly rose, then he was standing in front of her proudly, hand still moving on his cock. 'See? Look how hard it is.' He sounded excited, like he was showing off a wonder of nature. There was no exaggeration, however - it was as imposing and rock-like as before, only this time she knew just what it could do to her. 'Take it in your hand. Go on, see what it feels like.' She gripped it this time, the way she thought he would like, and felt its adamantine solidity between her fingers. 'See? See how hard it is for you? See what that hot little body of yours does to it? Go on, stroke it.'

She began to draw her hand up and down the shaft as firmly as she dared, watching in disturbed fascination how the near-translucent skin moved over the map of veins beneath. 'Go on M-J, don't be shy. Pump it.' She tightened her grip and gave him what he wanted. And when he told her to spit on it, she did that too, massaging his thick pole with her saliva-slickened hand, caressing the great head in her palm, feeling how it bulged. If Pammie could see her innocent friend now, she thought with a mortified flush; perched nude on the sofa - an obedient teenage sex slave, masturbating a grown man. Pumping his cock like it was a gear stick, manoeuvring him up through levels of increasing lust to an inevitable end...

It had been a long time since Joe had felt this alive, or this profoundly male. He stared at Mary-Jane's flushed face and the gentle undulation of her breasts as she worked his dick. She looked so timid and earnest down there, so totally out of her depth. What he was doing was reprehensible, he knew. It was shameful and self-indulgent. But he didn't care, because it made his cock so fucking hard. He let her stoke up his furnace a little longer - the sight of her was so damned appealing - then he lifted her from the sofa by the arm and pulled her into a tight clinch, so she could have the benefit of his stiffness flat against her belly. Breaking the kiss he gazed into her panting face, his heart pounding, his drug-inflamed desire raging within him. He had fucked her throat, then her cunt. And that night he was going to break in ALL her holes. He was going to leave nothing for any other man. Now that would make the evening perfect. 'Come on, back to the bed.'




What Men Want Ch. 02



Mary-Jane was taken aback at how suddenly Joe propelled her into his bedroom. She stumbled a little, as she was pulled there in his wake, and knew from his sudden haste that it was time again and that he was not going to be gentle. When is this going to end? she wailed inwardly, but there were newer emotions at work along with her foreboding.

They were only a few steps into the room, when he flung her face down on to the bed, with an aggressive vigour that he had not even demonstrated during their initial bedroom encounter. 'Stay there on all fours, don't move,' he ordered, as she brushed her hair out of her eyes. He was going to the bedside table, seizing a bottle of something - baby oil, she thought - and moving back behind her hastily, his erection waving buoyantly before him with the rapid motion. God, this time he was going to take her from behind! But why the baby oil? 

'What are you...?'

'I'm going to fuck your ass.' What? No, no, no, surely he wouldn't! Surely he would spare her that much... But his grip on her thighs as he determinedly hoisted her posterior high into the air suggested otherwise. 

Joe set the bottle aside and lovingly ran his hands from the small of Mary-Jane's back over the gentle curve of her buttocks. Below, her cunt lips protruded, puffed and reddened, from between her upper thighs. Even amidst his ardour he paused in a moment of awe. His palms circled her butt cheeks, then he parted the smooth ovals like segments of ripe fruit. There it was, the tender pink-grey star of her anus, virgin and unstretched. His cock pulsed a little harder at the sight of where it was about to go. Spurred back into action he picked up the bottle, unscrewed the cap and dripped warm baby oil on to the puckered little entrance. The object of his attention emitted the faintest whimper, as he did so...

Oh no - oh please - don't do this... Mary-Jane writhed under Joe's manhandling of her ass and at the sensation of oil percolating its way into her rectum, but he held her firmly. 'Hold still!' It was the sharpest he had spoken to her all evening. She felt more of the warm liquid dribbling about her anus, then yelped at the alarming intrusion of a finger into her most private entry. This wasn't right, it shouldn't be happening! Not in her real life... She had read about it in her book, but that was fantasy! Her anal muscles had tightened around Joe's finger in response to its bold intrusion and now he was wiggling it about inside her, exploring her rectal walls. It was too much to bear... Now he was extracting himself, pouring more oil on a quietly gurgling path into her ass, then inserting another longer digit to spread the fluid around some more.

There, that would make things go more smoothly. Joe pulled his finger out of Mary-Jane's rear and plumped it a little higher to let the oil drain further inside her. Then he laced his palm with the stuff and smeared it up and down the entire surface of his erect dick, setting the bottle aside. Done. Now it was time to fuck some teen ass.

Mary-Jane felt a rush of nipple-hardening panic, as Joe placed that solid cock-head of his against her anal ring. No, this wasn't real. She was trapped in some cheap piece of pornographic fiction - The Violation of Mary-Jane - in which 'a young girl is lured back to a suburban home, to be used mercilessly all night by a handsome stranger'. She felt his fingers on her ass cheeks, as he steadied himself, then he pushed and entered her suddenly. She squealed at the sharpness of the pain. No no no no - not that, not that...

For the first time that night Joe felt Mary-Jane attempt to get away from him. She made a desperate scramble for the top of the bed, trying to escape the cock that he was sticking into her asshole. He grabbed her tightly by the waist, enjoying this additional sport. 'Oh no, you're not going anywhere,' he said, his voice thick with sexual relish. Then gathering her writhing body back to him, he delivered a single mighty thrust and impaled her fully on the long, thick inches of his cock.

It felt to Mary-Jane that a great, white-hot spike had been driven right up her ass. She screamed at the sudden, brutal intrusion, tears welling up in her eyes, as Joe held her fast, bayoneted there on his hard rod. He gave her only a moment to adjust to his steel presence in her rectum, then his organ began to pump in and out vigorously, with zero regard for her suffering backside. 

Mary-Jane's mournful wails hardly registered in Joe's mind, so high was he on cocaine and adrenalized lust. Clinging to her delicate waist as he drilled that peach of an ass, watching her curvaceous little body shudder on the bed from the force of his driving pelvis, all that mattered was how incredible a time he was having. Christ, her ass was tight; he could not remember having his cock rammed up so narrow a crevice. Had he not emptied two loads down her throat earlier on, the intense pressure from her rectal tunnel would have already sucked the sperm straight out of his balls. So her very first ass-pounding was hurting her some - well the little lady would just have to get used to it, wouldn't she?

For what seemed an age, but might have been hardly more than a minute, Mary-Jane's asshole raged in searing agony. In her young life she had experienced no pain like it. She howled aloud, tears rolling down her face from the fire in her back passage. Then suddenly, thankfully, as if the lubricant had been sufficiently spread around her innards to smooth Joe's rampant in-and-out motion, the worst of it seemed to pass. To pass and change... 

The shock of the fiery sensation dissipated, giving way to a formidable sense of being filled and owned. Joe's powerful hands had laid claim to her around the waist, while his huge, rigid wedge of flesh was opening up her ass at every thrust. She had drifted off that night on a romantic daydream and ended up wide awake and naked on all fours, being fucked like a dog. And it was hot. The word was Pammie's, not hers, but incredibly it described how she felt. Being screwed wantonly, obscenely, on Joe's bed was hotter than she could ever have believed.

She was at his mercy, and he himself was in thrall to his own lust - wildly, desperately using her body to satisfy the sex urge that raged within him. She could hear his voice again, now that the pain had ceased to scream in her head, muttering almost dementedly. 'Oh God - ohhh God, your ass is so fucking tight - oh shit, fuck that ass, fuck that tight little teenage ass... Ohhh - so good, so fffucking good...' It was his heightened sexual enjoyment that was doing it to HER, as if his frenzied, male excitement was channelling itself into her via his cock. Her nipples were hard now not from panic, but from unexpected, utterly shameful pleasure. She could feel a warm, liquid sensation in her belly, could sense her own sex starting to swell and throb. And still he persisted in ramming her hole, supplying a lewd commentary the whole time.

'Come on... Take it - take it - take it up your fucking ass! You weren't expecting this, eh? Weren't expecting this when you went out tonight...' Joe fastened one hand to Mary-Jane's shoulder, the better to brace her, and his loins impacted against her buttocks in a long series of resounding smacks, as his cock delved so satisfyingly deep. 'If daddy could see his little princess now... He'd get quite a shock, right? Well you're my good girl now, so you just keep taking it up that tight hole!' He slipped his hand down to cup her breast and felt how hard her nipple was - a swollen, protruding bud of arousal. Instinctively he put his other hand to her pussy and thrilled with delight. It was more than moist like earlier, there was a veritable marshland between her legs, all but dribbling its juice down her thighs. 'Oh my God, you're soaking!' he said in awe, and he eased off in his pounding, so that his fingers could fully explore her juicy cunt. 'You're fucking LOVING this!' As a renewed rush of excitement flooded through him, he clamped both his hands to her firm hips and went insane on her luscious, eighteen-year-old ass. 'You - hot - little - bitch!' 

Mary-Jane felt sure he was going to fuck her through the bedroom wall. At every stroke his cock roared into her constricting tunnel like an express train; then his muscular body would slam against her, his manhood hammering the very depths of her rectal cavity. Her ass was being unforgivingly brutalised, and it was making her wetter and hornier by the moment. 

'Touch yourself,' she heard Joe command. 'Go on, rub your clit.' She was well-enough acquainted with her body and with pornographic literature to know exactly what he meant; reaching between her legs, she began flicking her engorged little button, feeling rivulets of her own juice running down her fingers from her swimming pussy. It was like her previously intact sex had peeled open like a ripe fruit; she was hot and pulsing, from her lips to her cervix. She knew this feeling of swiftly mounting tension well from her solo night-time play, but here she had the added factor of a massive erection plugging her other hole. This was crazy, it was unreal! Somewhere out there she could hear her own wild moaning, as if it were coming from a different place. The truth of Joe's next words was undeniable, but could scarcely believe it.

'You're going to come...' Joe knew it from her plaintive sobs of arousal, how they rose so rapidly in pitch. He knew it from how she frenetically set about her clitoris and from the way her whole body tightened in anticipation. It all helped him sustain his savage banging of her asshole, as he rocketed towards his own completion. 'You're going to come like a horny bitch! Come on, come for me M-J, let me hear you! Let it all out!'

Oh Jesus... Oh Jesus, I'm doing it... I'm coming...The sensations that had been accumulating in Mary-Jane's pussy suddenly crescendoed and exploded through her entire body, while she cried aloud. Joe's hands stayed locked on her waist, as the mad ecstasy surged through her like a dam-burst. For those few moments she was transformed; she was not the girl who had strolled wide-eyed into The Butterfly Suite, she was the naked, orgasming bitch Joe surely wanted her to be. The almighty burst of climactic energy shuddered its way through her, leaving her spent and sweat-soaked on the bed, then suddenly...

Joe pulled out of her ass, his balls already starting to pump. Her mouth - find her mouth again - make her suck him off straight out of her own ass - make this sweet girl his dirty little whore...

'Open up!' She had one tiny moment to contemplate the nastiness of his demand, as he knelt in front of her, shoving his slimy, hard cock to her lips; then he was in her mouth again, spurting past her larynx the same instant and yelling his customary filth. 'Oh fuck yeah - fuck yeah - take it like a bitch! Ohhhh - my - God!!!' 

Any mustiness from his cock's recent trip up her ass was quickly overwhelmed by the now familiar flavour of his sperm, as it washed about her mouth. She gulped him down on cue, sucked on the head to drain him of his final offerings, licked him clean - all that he had taught her during their earlier lesson. The whole time he kept his hands laid on her head, his orgasmic obscenity subsiding into aching, post-coital groans. But when she went to release him from her mouth, his hands remained firm in their grip. 'Hold it there...hold it there...' He held her fast, giving her no choice. His member, she realised in bemusement, had lost virtually none of its firmness on her tongue. 

'Keep sucking,' she was told quietly, and confused but meekly compliant, she continued her oral exertions. 'Come on, get it hard again.' Hard? He had come three times - he should be all worn out by now, surely! But there he was, returning to the same bone-hard state as before in her sucking mouth. Was this never going to end? She all but faltered, worn out as she was from the night's bizarre events and her own recent orgasm, but Joe's still lustful encouragements were always there to keep her on track, to keep her busy. Like the dutiful little cocksucker he had made her. She felt him pull on her hair and begin to pump.

Joe might have been content to let things be on another night, but on this, his drug-fuelled birthday celebration, every cell in his body demanded more. He had this petite beauty, fresh out of High School, for one night only and he knew he had another shot left in him to do the occasion justice. Back on rigid form, he built up a steady in-and-out fuck-motion, exhorting Mary-Jane to suck him harder. He had her slaver over every inch of his erection, to slurp on his bloated balls and to work her tongue into the very eye of his cock, until once again he felt almost painfully hard. Then he shoved himself to the very back of her guzzling mouth. But more was needed to get him off this time and he knew it. Without extracting himself, he rolled her over, swinging himself astride her face and locking her upper body between his thighs. Now that was more fucking like it.

Mary-Jane was shocked to find herself on her back again, but more so at what happened next. Joe leaned his whole body weigh forward against the bed-head and thrust his maleness all the way down her throat like a stake. He launched a few penetrating strokes down her airway, forcing her to suck desperately through her nose again, but obviously decided he was still not going deep enough. With one hand he grabbed the back of her head and forced her on to him as far as she would go, so that her nose pressed into his pubic curls and his balls nestled under her chin. Then he held her tight and fucked her throat with a ferocity that astounded her even more than the first time. His crude mutterings merged with the sounds of wet suction emanating from her throat, as she was glutted on his unrepentantly hard cock. She recalled pictures of those ridiculous blow-up dolls, with their comical open mouths inviting male insertion. That was now her, she realised - an open-mouthed fuck-doll, whose purpose was to facilitate this man's gratification. A gratification that, through his delivery of a protracted oral shafting, finally grew near.

'Come on - come on -' Joe urged himself, as he clung to the girl's head and assaulted her throat. 'Fuck that bitch, fuck that horny little bitch...' He knew he was good for it, he knew he had that final, ball-emptying climax in him. Go for it, fucking go for it! Pump that bitch's throat! 'Come on!' he roared wildly, as the beginning of a victorious fourth rush came upon him. 'Suck that cock! Suck it like a fucking slut, you hear me? Like a fucking whore! FUCKING SUCK IT!!! Oh shit...Oh fuck... Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!'

Mary-Jane felt Joe's cock slam down her oral tunnel one last time, her face ground into his belly, while a bestial, orgasmic scream echoed about the room, like his soul was being ripped from his body. She felt the hot spurt of his cum deep in her throat and the slow trickle towards her stomach, while her head and upper body absorbed the violent tremors that tore their way through him. He held her until her head had fully served its function, then he let her go, his great organ flopping from its home in her mouth, as her head dropped back on to the bed. Slick with sweat he rolled off her and collapsed next to her limp form, where he lay for a few breathless moments, before giving voice to his thoughts. 'Sweet Jesus, that was amazing!' 

She lay in a fucked stupor, aware of Joe's recumbent presence beside her and little else. Was that it, or was it just another brief respite, until his cock had miraculously sprung back to life again? She was not sure she had anything left to give this demanding man, had even got the strength to climb off the bed. Joe lay next to her until his breathing returned to normal. Then he rose and sat on the edge of the bed, in an apparent moment of contemplation. 'Right,' she heard him say. 'Time to get you home to mom and dad.'

They dressed in silence, Mary-Jane not even having washed. There was a throbbing in both her pussy and asshole, and the residual taste of semen in her mouth. Joe brought her another glass of water and then almost before she knew, she was back in his sports car, while he brought her the short journey home. Virtually nothing passed between them, beyond her softly whispered directions and his casual acknowledgements. After two hours' deranged fucking of her inexperienced body, what was left to be said? She sat in her own dazed thoughts, wondering at the night's staggering turn of events.

Joe sat at the wheel with the serenity of a man who had fucked himself dry. His birthday gift to himself had proved more delicious than he had even imagined and he enjoyed his final moments in the company of his perfect young guest. On the fringes of his consciousness was a familiar, threatening darkness. Soon his cocaine high would give way to the usual emptiness. In the morning the gnawing reality of his defeated life would still be there - the ashen aftermath of divorce and the prospect of yet one more year in a job he had never wanted. 

But at least there was sex. At least there was the joy of picking up a sweet, naïve virgin like the one who sat beside him and making her his own personal fuck-slut. Thank Christ there was still that. A mutinous thought rose up in his mind. Maybe he would do the same thing again; maybe the next time he would choose a Senior girl from his own place of work, just to see if he could get away with it. Not some pouting, cheerleading prick-tease, the type who would spread her legs for him at the drop of a pompom, no - it had to be someone with the same pretty innocence. Someone who had that special M-J factor...

The car turned a corner on to Mary-Jane's block. 'Could you drop me off here?' she asked timidly, before they had arrived at her house. It was hard to find her voice in the presence of this man, who had imposed his sexual will on her so completely, but she desperately did not want Joe drawing up in front of her parents' house.

'Sure.' She was relieved when he pulled up a few hundred yards shy of her home. He sat still as she undid her safety strap. No more getting out to open the door for her; long gone was the gentleman from The Butterfly Suite. But then she felt his hand, soft on her shoulder, and when she turned her head, he touched his lips briefly to hers like a lover. She stared into his eyes, taken aback by this moment of tenderness. 'I'm glad I met you, M-J,' he told her gently. 'You were one hot little fuck. Now get your sweet ass off home and when you're there, you dream of all the things I did to you with my dick.' He lightly kissed her astonished face. 'Go.'

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As the car drove off, Mary-Jane stood on the roadside, clutching her purse and staring blankly after the vehicle, after the handsome, god-like man, who had charmed his way into her life and divested her of all her innocence in a few short hours. Then she trotted down the path towards her parents' drive, unsteady and aching, a host of emotions blanketed beneath her overwhelming exhaustion. The sense of her own girlish stupidity; what had she been thinking of, getting into a stranger's car, however charming or handsome she found him? The horrible knowledge that she had been duped - taken in by a suave actor, then used for his entertainment and casually chucked away. The confusion at how she had tried so desperately to meet his demands - at first perhaps through fear, but later because she did not want to refuse anything to a man that gorgeous. But most of all the shame at having felt excitement. He did not deserve her excitement, did not deserve to see her squirm and shudder with sudden, intense pleasure, did not deserve to see her come so very hard...




What Men Want Ch. 02



She let herself into the house discretely and stole up the stairs as silently as a thief, desperate not to wake either of her parents. Then she washed her face and rinsed her mouth, convinced the taste of Joe's sperm still lingered there. Showering would have to wait till the morning. Wearily she undressed and slipped into bed, nursing sore reminders of where Joe had shoved himself. The private drawer of her bedside table remained locked. In it were a diary for 1979, in which August 25th would never be written up, and a cheap sex novel, the sordid episodes of which would never again seem like fiction.

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'You find what you were looking for?' 

'Hmmm? Oh yes - yes, thanks,' Mary-Jane said distractedly, handing the 1979 yearbook back to the Fraser High secretary who had hunted it out for her. She walked out of the building, a kaleidoscope of images from that distant evening whirling across her mind's eye. Little wonder her eighteen-year-old self had so easily fallen prey to Mr Joseph Sadler; he had looked such a pleasing specimen of adult masculinity. 

It struck her as odd sometimes, that she had not suffered greater trauma as a result of the encounter; the next day she had felt painful and foolish, and had certainly never shared her story with Pammie, what with the twists it had taken, but the incident had not caused the emotional upheaval some might have expected. That night with Joe had been, if not buried in her mind, certainly tucked away in the same mental space as her night-time reading. It cropped up only when she masturbated late at night, as if it were as much a fantasy as the tawdry story of Violet. Her life had continued as normal with College, dating and relationships, one of which had led into ill-advised marriage and the birth of her children. Then divorce and the hard practicalities of single parenthood.

But her secret thoughts, they had been more lacking in convention. Years after The Butterfly Suite incident she still fingered herself to thoughts of being ass-fucked and throat-fucked without compromise, dragged about the bed and pounded halfway to oblivion by some lust-maddened male, then made to swallow everything he gave her. It was what she had always angled for with her male partners - her friends would have been shocked had they known it. 

This afternoon she would drive home and shut herself up in her room while her kids were still at school; then she would frig herself silly as usual to computer downloads of grown men shafting pretty girls fresh out of Senior High, taking them greedily and roughly in every tender hole. Men who should know better, but who had access to young female flesh and took full advantage, heedless of anything other than getting themselves off. Men like Joe. And this afternoon they would be Joe. As with him, nothing could justify their behaviour, yet nothing made Mary-Jane come harder than the thought of their fierce, selfish pleasure.

The nice guys weren't so different, she thought. Never had she met a man, however mild-mannered, however 'reconstructed' , who wasn't deeply aroused to find, beneath her sweetness, her desire to be used so roughly. Those gentlemanly faces lit up like it were Christmas when they realised they could drain their balls down her throat, or recklessly pound her ass. Oh yes, she knew what men wanted, what all men wanted - the exact same thing as Joe Sadler. Only that far-off August night he had been ready to take it. 

THE END 

ALL FEEDBACK APPRECIATED



What Men Want Ch. 03



What Men Want Chapt 3-Why someone cheats, another chapter in the Almost series.

Foreword: I titled this, They vs He or She because the causes of cheating are somewhat bipartisan. They don’t vary by gender, so, if she’s doing it to you, or he is, it’s for somewhat the same reason, and although those reasons can vary, some are listed below, or the one’s I’ve figured out are, reasons are specific to the person, or the situation, and I’m sure some don’t fit these offerings. I have never cheated on anyone, I have been cheated on by many, and I understand it more than I once did, is all this is. Again, keep those cards and letters coming folks, you fuel my idea banks. And, this is dedicated to Kelly, a lovely young thing who took my place, for a time and gave what I couldn’t give. Thank you my dear. 

Cheaters. It’s a nasty word, it bespeaks of betrayal of trust, of sneakery and thievery, of dishonesty in the core of a being, they not only steal from others, they do it secretly and through being devious and deceptive, they worm their ways into the hearts of a lover only to then twist like a knife to hurt them thoughtlessly for superficial selfishness. It tells of a naughty thing bad people do, it’s a label that says evil, that says unworthy, even unethical and unkind. But WHY do they do it? 

You’ll read theories by angry spouses that explain it’s because they’re cheating, low life, lying, no good, lousy, stinking, shallow and flawed, and insecure, and mean, and totally unsuitable to be allowed in the human race spouse is just a dog, a slug, a slime and an ingrate. They’ll tell you of the damage it did to their own trust (oh poor babies!) what a surprise it was to them and how these horrible thoughtless destroyers of beauty and good are in fact cads, and witches and evil beyond measure. It’ll talk about their upbringing, their parents, their friends and their work, and slyly suggest none of it was even THEIR fault or had anything to do with them. It paints them like victims, and what it doesn’t tell you is the truth. Or, I guess my question is, if it is the truth, then why’d you marry them to begin with? Did you expect them to change from being shallow, flawed, insecure, inadequate and mean and totally unsuitable, or did they fool you totally with nary a hint or a suggestion? If you did marry them knowing they had many problems and flaws, did you not realize the risk that they in fact might not be perfect or conform to your standards of excellence? Cause I’d think it might be smart to know someone a bit before marrying them, but what do I know…and of course, my goal isn’t just to get their paycheck and not have to work…so? Different strokes I guess…but the free lunch doesn’t happen often in life, so you get what you deserve at times. If you set forth choosing to be blind without seeing, don’t complain about the view. 

Rule number one, cheaters cheat to get something they aren’t getting. Period. End report. Now what it is may vary, and indeed they may have some flaws, but no happy person goes looking for trouble just to see if it exists. This is almost a constant, except in the case of a psychopath, who then cheats just for the joy of so doing. For one, it’s a lot of work to cheat. You have to find someone else who wants to cheat with you, and even single men can tell you that’s not always easy! A lot of the girls out there won’t have a man who cheats, and actually are wise enough to ask if they’re married, and will not play with men who they even SUSPECT are! And for another, a person who is getting all they need, really doesn’t bother looking for something they don’t. No motive, no action! 

People cheat to find fulfillment, and what that fulfillment is, varies by what it is they don’t have or don’t want to give up. They do it often as a form of compromise. A way to stay within that marriage or relationship, to raise those children, to honor their commitments and have the life they have invested in, and still have “me” time, and things they so desperately need, and don’t get elsewhere. It’s an oasis of me, in a sea of them, to many. It’s like going bowling, it’s like going fishing, it’s a hobby, a distraction and even a relief from the daily grind. To many it has very little emotional attachment, it is just physical, one dimensional and a solution to cope with a life they can’t seem to get everything from. It is often egocentric, in a world they are allowed no ego in. And sometimes it’s addictive as well, because it is naughty and it is totally egocentric. And there’s a high to that. It becomes a conquest and a getting over on someone that in time, can in fact flaw the individual who may have started for different reasons altogether. 

No I don’t agree with it, nor is it a healthy way to live one’s life, but to solve it, you have to identify why they do it! And they aren’t all wrong! They aren’t! I will defend some of them. It is a case of situational ethics, of solutions to problems and compromise. So if you don’t want them to cheat, I”d suggest you consider not putting them in that situation, or if you don’t care if they do, well then quit WHINING! 

Example: The man who marries the woman who just doesn’t want sex with him. He works, he pays the bills, he mows the lawn, he provides for her. He gives her a roof over her head, he may raise her children, he escorts her places, he takes her on vacation, he builds her a secure future and keeps her from a life of hardship. He buys her gifts, brings her champagne, he plans romantic escapes, he pleases her anyway he can, he takes her to dinner and the movies. All he wants is love and affection and warmth and intimacy in return.

OR…the woman whose man ignores her, comes home, never talks, never listens, goes to his shop, won’t interact, won’t do things with her, often won’t have sex with her, and often acts more like a vegetable with legs than a man or a lover, and all she wants is his love, affection and warmth and intimacy.

So when she or he refuses to give him or her that, says she/he doesn’t like it, or it’s not convenient, who’s doing the cheating???? And after months and years of this, he swallows hard and accepts that she isn’t going to give him that one little thing he so desperately needs, he sometimes decides, he loves her so much or the life they’ve built, that he’ll just solve it all but getting a little on the side. Or she will, cause it does happen the other way around too! 

And I again ask you, whose the cheater in that. The man who earned, did, worked for, provided and got nothing in return, not even the consideration to want to meet him part way, or…the man who after providing all these things, and thinking of everything he possibly could to get this housekeeper gone mad to put out a little and like being with him intimately, he decides he won’t bother her for THAT any more and just get it somewhere else? 

Is there anger in it? Of course there is! Lol…poor GUY! He had this vision of happily ever after when he walked down that aisle, with visions of sugar plums dancing in his head, he worked and he slaved, and he gave and he gave, and now he’s off begging some woman to please be his friend, because the one at home, has a headache, oh yet again. And according to the stories, HE’s the BAD GUY in it all for liking and needing sex, love and affection and intimacy! OH RIGHT! 

There are different libido levels, and unfortunately sometimes they do end up in a relationship, but the bottom line is there are also lazy, thoughtless, inconsiderate uncaring, unfeeling, self involved people in marriages, and THEIR SPOUSES often CHEAT! And they then go boo hoo hoo! Because they couldn’t manipulate the last sense of spirit and passion out of that spouse.

There are also sexual preferences and inadequacies, which often get the press for these problems. The she left me cause my dick wasn’t big enough thing, or she left me for a woman, or he left me for a younger woman. Well? A dick that never wants them is about worthless regardless of it’s size, if they are indeed a latent homosexual, well somewhere in there, you were either deceived badly or refused to see, and if he left you for someone younger, it’s probably because she looks at him like a god, and idolizes him and actually takes care of her body, and goes places with him and laughs, so? It isn’t just an age thing or a size thing, it’s about not being what they need or caring enough to figure out what they need. If you have decided to turn into an old woman and he’s bored half to death, you’re right, he may decide he wants some one more alive and fun, and while he’s shopping maybe firm and luscious might as well go into it too, besides, if she’s younger, by the time she turns old and grey like you are now, well, he’ll be ready for one a bit slower by then…right fellas? 

Hey, folks, you’re the ones boring them out the door, don’t mind me if I at least explain to you what you’re doing! They want fun, so do I! There’s nothing wrong with being alive, and you really don’t have to sit down to wait for your funeral, I promise, no one will hold it without you being there! You can’t be late to your own funeral, so go play! It’s ok! It’ll wait til you’re ready! 

Is cheating right? Well compared to allowing someone to destroy your soul, it may be, but in actuality I don’t think so, I think it’s a case of two wrongs don’t make a right. Although they will defend it, as being better for the kids…I dunno! Some will even say “it’s not the money” OH PULLLEASE, it is SO! Lol! They don’t want to give up the big screen! It’s all of it…the house, the frying pan, the 401k, the kids, the dog, all of it…ok…maybe they’d give up the frying pan willingly. 

I was a child in that, I’m not so sure it’s a good thing! 

I also know a man who cheated for years, and his wife had learned to just look the other way, She knew, she didn’t admit she did, he hid it somewhat discreetly and they managed. But he said he wouldn’t leave her, because she would get half of everything, which? I guess, it’s what you value, your chance at happiness or half a double wide trailer, it’s all relative to what’s important to you I guess.

I know another couple, he’s in a position of power, he loves his power, and this is his second marriage. He brings his current mistress of the moment to social functions at his house, with his wife as hostess, and she swears he would NEVER cheat on her, and you’re standing there at this cocktail party with him being smug, the latest mistress (they’re a constant stream, young, over educated, stupid, sigh, whatever!) glaring at the wife, and the wife myopically serving pu-pus trying to convince everyone she hasn’t a clue! It’s all in what you like I guess…sigh…and EVERYone knows, he makes sure they do! And does he have a big one? They don’t come that big, in my book, folks…I don’t want any of him. And it is all about money, he has, they want, he trades. All it is. She won’t leave him! So she pretends she doesn’t know! She likes his credit cards! They’re BIG credit cards! 

How do kids do in that? Well for one, they learn that love is nonsexual. They see this platonic relationship of some sort, perhaps with hidden issues, and they come to view that as normal. They don’t see the intimacy and affections between their parents that teach them it’s ok to develop those and respect their values. Often they are either totally ignored by the parents who are so busy focusing on their own needs ever so selfishly, or they are so totally inundated with parental affection with no healthy outlet they are all but smothered by it. So, yeah, it’s great for the kids, if you want to raise kids as screwed up as you are. And the sins of the parents shall manifest duofold in the kids…you reap what you sow. And I wish them luck at judgment day as they explain they didn’t realize. 

And no, I am not softening this with kind words, it’s real! So, if it bothers someone to read this, perhaps they should open their eyes to what all of it does to their own families, wives, husbands, children and all, as they espouse they’re doing the right thing for everyone. And no I don’t just mean the person who is driven to seek comfort outside the boundaries of that relationship, I also mean the one who drives that person to that as a solution. It’s bad stuff, folks! It is not what love is supposed to do to people. So the cheater may in fact be the cheatee in many cases too. 

There are other reasons cheaters cheat. There are. There is a group of people who cheat to keep a sense of themselves they refuse to give to a relationship. Fidelity is a gift we give, and some people can not bear to give it, they fear the loss of themselves in so doing, or that they’ll not have their own safety around them, so they cheat. They keep part of themselves intact and separate from a relationship. And the first group, who started cheating for reason can evolve into this group, but this group can evolve on their own too…and it is a form of addiction I think. Where the high becomes the conquest and they seek it as a form of satisfaction outside of sexual bliss. 

These folks, like a former politician who made the news for months and months with some little tramp who kept the dress ever so handily, often will explain it isn’t SEX. Or it isn’t lovemaking more accurately, because to them it isn’t. It is often contained to them being recipients of pleasures, or they are somewhat non participatory during these escapades and therefore they rationalize that this isn’t the same thing as what they do with that person they care for, this is just an outlet they need. And those people are usually habitual cheaters, and they will often tell you they are long before you ever catch them. People do tell on themselves, if you listen. And Grand Jury’s listen and have microphones and TV cameras too…but it’s symptomatic of a much widely spread disease in society. One built on lack of acceptance of sex and it’s power and it’s rightful place in our lives as a joy we are given. 

I am going to share a very good story someone told me the other day. The government doesn’t want people to fuck. Because people who fuck think, and if you don’t let people fuck, they won’t think, because if they do think, they’ll think about fucking, so the solution is, it’s patriotic and American to fuck. Support our country, fuck tonight! 

And if you don’t want your spouse to seek it elsewhere, then I suggest you give it up, boys and girls! And do it very damned well. It doesn’t have to get boring, it’s a creative element in and of itself. It has lots of ways to stay fresh and exciting. If you’re on this website, you’re probably very aware of some of those. 

And if that spouse is cheating, it may take YOU time to earn THEIR trust and belief in YOU Again should you wish to keep your relationship intact. Many cheaters do eventually leave that relationship, often because they can’t live a dual life, and one day they choose. But of course, the spouse who didn’t cheat always claims she threw them out…yeah RIGHT! 

Not til they were already half packed and headed out the door anyway. Begging to please please, just meet them half way…and they answered by yelling get out. So yeah, they threw them out, I suppose, if you want to look at it that way, but of course, first they tortured them for a few years. OH right, they skip that part, don’t they! Silly me! 

I don’t agree with cheating, but I understand it. And if you force a person to do it, you’re no less guilty than they are, in fact, you’re probably more guilty. Sex is important, and so is affection, understanding, intimacy and trust. They trusted you to care about them and you didn’t, so don’t yell at them if they then learned to not care about you, or tried to anyway, and took that one element somewhere else, because you didn’t like it anyway. 

And for all you cheaters out there, sigh…what you do to that third person in that isn’t fair. It isn’t. You make him or her, pay the dues your lazy thoughtless spouse won’t pay, and then in return you expect to give nothing to get that. It’s a nasty mess for people, and for those contemplating cheating with someone, or fall into that trap, I suggest you get clear of that whirlpool if you can. Cheaters don’t love, they only use. They already gave at the office is why.

For the third persons in it, hey, make him take you someplace nice, cause you aren’t getting much else out of it! Although yes, sometimes they do learn to love too. It does happen. But it’s often a mess before it does. Good luck to you. 

And to those potential cheaters contemplating or considering, you may want to look at other options too. It is not a simple thing you consider. For anyone. And you become like the one who does it to you.