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Down and Out

By: Deadwood



Leslie James hesitated for a moment inside her Lexus even as the alarm beeped twice giving her a thirty second warning to remove herself from the vehicle. It was the best system money could buy, but even then Leslie knew this was certainly no place to leave a vehicle of this caliber. It's asking price was probably twice the yearly income of the residents of this neighborhood, and stealing cars was a mere past time of the elementary school kids, to say nothing about the professional thieves that lurked about the many dumpsters and vacant warehouses. Leaving it was a huge risk, and yet as the timer wound down, she knew it was for that very reason that she had to leave the safety of her car, the safety of her gated community and the safety of her father's all-powerful political friends.

She had but a few seconds left when she stepped out of the vehicle, slammed the door and retrieved her keys from the lock just as the tiny red light on the dash began to flash its visual warning to any would-be thieves.

"I should not be here," she mumbled under her breath as she made a step from the lavish Sport Utility Vehicle, then another and another as each step bore her further away from her only safety. With each step she also announced her vulnerability, her high heels clicking loudly upon the broken cobblestone paving, the sound echoing softly off the brick buildings as well as she stepped around broken pallets and trash drifting about in the wind. Her high heeled pumps echoing loudly, spoke volumes about her vulnerability; that she was a lady that would not be able to run from any stalkers. Her shoes also announced that she was dressed for pleasure, for no woman wore such senseless shoes with jeans and a sweatshirt. For all those who looked, Leslie did not disappoint, for under the shoes she wore black stockings, their wide elastic tops just visible under the hemline of her dress.

It was an evening dress at that, a short black number that was the staple of every ladies wardrobe. She could see her own image reflecting off a rather large mud puddle that was frozen solid to its core as she skirted past it, fearing she could easily slip in her cumbersome high heels. She paused for a second in front of the ghetto mirror and saw her pale reflection glimmering on the silky smooth ice. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight against the stark contrast of her black dress and dismal settings that surrounded her.

She wished she could have at least worn a jacket, her favorite long mink coat at that since it was incredibly warm, but knew she had to be dressed just as she was a week ago so that she would be recognized. Instead she froze, letting the icy wind hit her legs that were only covered by the thin fabric of her black nylon stockings from her mid thighs to her black pumps. Even then there was an inch of exposed skin where the tops of her black thigh high stockings stopped and the short hemline of her dress. From there the meager dress only rose to the height of her navel before splitting again. Here the fabric rose up into two slim pillars of material, covering her chest before encircling over her arms and across her back. Only the shiny chrome buckle of a belt stretched tightly across her waist gave the outfit a hint of color.

Leslie wore it well, her pedigree mandating that she wear it to cocktail parties and benefit dinners for the wealthy politicians that feasted far too often at her father's estate. While fitting at such events, in this neighborhood, such a dress had no use. It was far too eloquent to be considered slutty, and thus no one was about to confuse her with the many prostitutes that lingered about the neighborhood. Instead, she looked out of place; a sophisticated young lady that looked lost and scared.

The latter she was, for her hands twitched more out of nervousness than from the cold, while the former was another story altogether. She had been here before, a week to the day no less and accompanied by a man at that.

Fifteen degrees was what Leslie remembered the Time and Temperature building stating as she drove through the downtown portion of Portland. Now it felt much colder as the wind easily whipped through her meager satin dress as she rounded the corner of the forlorn brick building and took the heavy sea breeze straight in the face. There would be half a block of walking through this before she would turn out of the wind, duck through a side alley and then emerge just on the south side of the railroad tracks.

That was, if she could make it that long. Already her feet were beginning to feel like blocks of ice, her legs getting the sensation of needle pricks from the wind, and while she could have turned back to her vehicle at any time, some inner drive pushed her on. It pushed her on to make the turn half way down the block. It pushed her walking down the dimly lit alleyway, and it even pushed her until she was stepped from the giant brick archway and faced the chain link fence of the railroad yard.

As she approached her destination, it took her a moment for her eyes to grow accustomed to the bright flickering yellow light and the raw smell of burning wood in the air. She approached slowly, two men huddled around the fire, warming their hands and tearing apart a pallet to make sure their only supply of heat did not die.

"A rich bitch huh?"

"Yeah a real rich bitch. And she wanted it hard I tell you."

"Hard huh? And what was the rich bitch's name?"

"Leslie," he said making Leslie draw in a breath upon hearing those words and cowered against the dark brick wall to over hear their conversation.

"Oh she was good. Young and hot..."

As the man went into detail about their sordid affair, Leslie slowly drew her hand up under her hemline and began to massage her pleasure point with increased intensity, her own mind beginning to spin back in time to a week earlier when she had slipped into the darker side of her sexuality.

It was not hard to drift back in remembrance, for she wore the same dress, the same shoes, the same purse clutched tightly in her left hand. Only the location was different, she realized as she began to think back to the quaint and charming bistro on Mason Street. It was her father's favorite restaurant, and a favorite locale that had managed to maintain it's upscale patronage despite it's location in a neighborhood that was slowly dwindling into poverty. If the Bistro was in a desolate part of town, at least there was an unspoken agreement that left the wealthy patrons immune to the criminal activities of the other sections of the neighborhood. Cars could be parked without fear of being stolen, muggings were rare and trash quickly cleaned up.

Leslie managed to order an appetizer before her Fiancée arrived. In fact she managed to make it through the bread choice, main course and dessert before coming to the conclusion that he once again had stood her up. Such an occurrence was becoming increasingly common. It was the second time that month and it she began to get cross as she stirred the cream in her mug of coffee. Her anger only increased as she looked up at the Waitress who had a look of pity in her eye. There was no denying that she had been stood up, her formal black dress, stockings and hells, could only have been worn for the benefit of a lover, while the seat across from her still had its place settings undisturbed. With a cross look, she paid for the meal, the act itself only making her bitter at being slighted by her Fiancée, as she rose and left the restaurant.

"Please Miss, can you spare a little change?"

Leslie had not even seen the man, an older gentleman that had been sitting just outside of the Bistro's building, slightly obscured by the shadows as she walked by. It jumped her slightly, but no enough so that it stopped her strides towards her Lexus.

"Get a job," she cried over her shoulder.

"Yeah, I would, but maybe you should look around here and see the jobs that are leaving the great State of Maine in such haste!"

At this Leslie halted, and then spun back around. Perhaps it was her father's efforts to improve life in Maine through the legislature, or perhaps it was the man's brazen critical statement, but Leslie was not about to let the bum go without at least having a piece of her mind.

"Oh you could get a job if you wanted to," she said strolling up to him. "You're just lazy. A worthless bum that has to beg to subsist.," her anger spewing out of her lips as she got within a few feet of him. "You're a worthless piece of shit that chooses not to work, that's all. Go out and find a job and quit begging for money."

"Yeah, and how would you know what it's like to find a job? I bet you have never even had to try. Rich Bitch."

"How dare you question me, because here is a thought, what if you cleaned yourself up? That wouldn't hurt your chances of getting off the street and making something of yourself," she said, her words of anger really stemming from her Fiancés inconsiderate behavior, more than it came from his words. 

"You would not understand."

"No, I probably wouldn't because my family chose to make something of themselves, to do better, to work."

"Miss I just want ten dollars to get something to eat, that's all," he said lowering his voice in trying to de-escalate her anger.

"What, ten dollars of my money, so you can go out and buy booze with it...or cigarettes...or drugs?"

"I just want something to eat Miss. That's all, I swear."

Leslie could not help but smirk at his words. She had heard this so many times before; a feeble attempt at deception just to gain a few dollars. She had heard stories of beggars making an average of fifteen dollars an hour pan handling, while the working poor worked and made even less. Despite his weak pleas, she knew he had no intention of buying food with her money any more than she did in giving it to him.

"You're hungry you say huh? Then I'll cook you dinner," she said knowing full well that he had just gorged himself on the soup kitchen just down the street. 

"Well that's just great Miss because I am starved," he said calling her bluff as he started walking towards her sport utility vehicle. For a second Leslie was speechless. She never considered her next move if he actually took her up on it. Now she considered her options and produced a twenty dollar bill.

"Here, go get something to eat. I don't care what you do with the change."

"I don't think so. I love the sound of a home cooked meal."

"I'm not taking you anywhere," she said firmly placing her hands on her hips to verify her steadfast resolve.

"So you're word is no good then? You know what though, you think you are all that, but you are no better than that useless boyfriend of yours that stood you up tonight. I mean that is what you are really mad at anyway isn't it; him, not me, but I'm an easy target so you started slamming my unfortunate situation?" Leslie looked at him with a look of utter animosity. It was the second time in two hours that a man had offended her and she was not thrilled about being portrayed as the bad person now.

"Fine, if you want dinner I'll cook one for you. Hell maybe then you can get cleaned up and you can get a job."

"That would be nice too," he said making sure he countered her every statement with one that was just the opposite.

Leslie made for a lousy chauffer as she drove up the darkened streets of Portland. She had placed an empty shopping bag underneath the seat so his soiled pants would not ruin her expensive leather upholstery, and made him hold his shoes in his lap as well. It was only a half hour drive to her Townhouse by the sea, a true requirement of being influential in the State of Maine.

She hardly spoke a word to him as they drove there however. Other than demanding he wear his seat belt and giving him a stern warning about ever remembering where she lived, she said very little. She was glad however that most of her neighbors had turned in for the night and would not see such a bum being escorted into her home.

"Take your shoes off," she demanded as they reached her front door. She ignored her own advice and stepped inside to snap on the dining room light and punch in the security code, leaving him to untie his muddy and greasy boots by the door.

She turned back to watch him after she was done. It was the first time she had really seen him in any kind of light. It certainly was not flattering. His socks were nearly as dirty as his boots with grass and dirt stains making his white socks look more of a grayish color than any resemblance to white. His hair was just as unkempt, having been uncut for several months and sprawling out in clumps that would not stay flat. Particles of food and dirt stuck to it, while his matching gray beard was just as shaggy, and equally unflattering.

Leslie did not bother to review much of the rest of him. His blue jeans matched his unclean socks, while his red and flannel shirt was ripped in two places. A pack of cigarettes bulged one of the breast pockets out as he stepped across the threshold and into her small kitchen.

"Well you are here. What would you like me to cook you," she asked upon ushering her arm toward her well stocked cabinets and refrigerator? As he opened the cabinets and inspected the cupboards carefully for his meal choice, Leslie began to take note of his age. With his unkempt look, it was hard to calculate, but she considered him to be in his late fifties or early sixties.

"Mesquite chicken sounds good," he said upon a rather long review of her pantry. Leslie merely nodded and began to grab the contents she would need as he placed himself at her oak table and watched her rush about the kitchen in a flurry of activity. She wanted to get her obligation over as soon as possible and return to her rather nonchalant lifestyle. As the frying pan began to heat up on the stove however, he dropped a bombshell onto her.

"Nude," he finally said after a long bout of silence.

"What?"

"I want you to cook me my dinner nude." Leslie just looked at him with utter bewilderment.

"I'm not cooking you dinner naked if that's what you think. How dare you even come into my home and demand such...", but her words were cut off when she looked down upon the table and saw a steak knife in close proximity to his knotted up hands. "Your dress, please," he asked, as if such a request was as nonchalant as asking a waitress for a shaker of salt?

Leslie's stomach cramped up in instant nervousness, as much from him speaking her name as she did for his outlandish request. She was about to ask him how he knew her name, but as she looked towards him, she could see the mornings mail sitting just in front of him. She silently cursed herself for getting herself into this predicament.

"Please don't hurt me okay. Please, I'll cook you a nice dinner, just like you wanted, chicken, potato and everything."

"I'm not going to hurt you Leslie. Hell you've invited me into your fine home, offered me a nice meal, but taking of your dress isn't going to hurt you either is it?"

"I don't know?"

"No it's not," he said and began to stand up. The knife was not in his hand, but Leslie knew it was extremely close by.

"Okay, okay, I'll take it off. Just sit down huh? If you want to see what I look like undressed that's fine, I'll take it off. No one but you and I will ever know I did this right? Just don't get any ideas huh?"

It was all Leslie could do to work her arms behind her enough to grip the zipper and ease the constricting fabric from around her torso. She knew posing nude for the man was only a temporary reprieve from his demands, but as her dress dropped away, a new sensation began to fill her. She could not explain it, nor the smile that spread over her face as she turned from his view, then she let the dress puddle at her feet, only to step out of it a second later. Next she stepped out of her thong with a hint of flair to it. She still wore her black stockings and shoes, but when she went to remove those, the transient stopped her.

"Those you can keep on." Leslie nodded, her heart beating a thousand times a minute at what she was doing. With one hand, and an outstretched finger, he made a revolving gesture. Leslie nodded understanding full well what he wanted, and spun around on one foot so that the man could see all of her, including her backside. Her bottom was not exceptionally full, but then again neither was her chest, but the man smiled indicating he had no objections to her fine form.

Leslie feigned interest in her cooking of the chicken, but her provocative pose had an unforeseen effect...it was turning her on. There was no mistaking it as she cooked up the kitchen, teetering on her heels as she swooped from the stove to the sink to the refrigerator trying to prepare the man a decent meal. As she did, she was becoming increasingly aware of the dampness in her sex.

"Smells like you are cooking Haddock not Chicken," he commented as Leslie brought out the Mesquite Chicken he requested. She could not help but turn a dark crimson red, but as she went to serve him a helping; his hand reached out and touched the wide darker bands of her nylon stockings. Surprising even herself, Leslie did not move from the geriatrics touch.

"After I am through with the chicken, I want you for dessert," he said in a line so lame that if any one else had spoken it, Leslie would have burst out laughing. Instead, she spoke one herself.

"You can have me for the main course if you want."

Leslie was not sure where such bravado came from. Obviously what she was doing was wrong; so very, very wrong. He was three times her own age, dirty, lazy and derelict, and yet she felt him whisk her up and easily lug her small frame into the bedroom. Long forgotten was the eloquently prepared chicken, the fresh split peas and the hot coffee, the latter still steaming on the table. Dropping her down onto the bed, Leslie's legs immediately splayed wide in an unmistakable open invitation, and grinned as the man hastened to push down his pants.

It was raw sexual energy that passed between them, as Leslie opened her mouth up wide and accepted his greedy lapping tongue. Dipping in and out, lashing her teeth against his, she could taste his vile breath, a seedy mixture of stale cigarettes and cheap booze. She kissed him again, an equally powerful French-kiss that was entirely reserved for lovers. Like their love-making, it too was wrong, but Leslie swooned at the pleasure of it, the pleasure of doing something so wrong, that for once in her life, it was right..

"Do you want me to wear a condom," he politely asked, hesitating at his entry into her as he loomed above her fragile body. Leslie tossed her head back and forth on the bright white sheets.

"Oh God no. Put it in me. Put it in me and fuck me hard." It was not her that was talking, but her darker side. A side she never knew existed until now. 

What should have been young and clean shaven was old and hairy. What should have smelled like cologne and fresh flowers smelled like gin and locomotive exhaust? Mostly though, what should have been isolated and rubbery, was hard and natural, for it had been years since Leslie had sex without the benefit of a condom.

"You want to get pregnant don't you," he lamented as he began to thrust harder and harder inside her. Already Leslie had moaned from one orgasm and was quickly approaching another.

"Yes, yes, yes," she moaned for more than one reason as her pelvis rocked with an orgasm. It had approached so quickly, a flash and then it was upon her. It occurred so quickly that as satisfying as it was, she wanted another, and another, and another...

After a moment of raw passionate sex, the transient sensed her needs and slowed his rhythm, settling into her with more steady, powerful thrusts that sent her back pressing down into the satin sheets again and again. Leslie moaned, a deep full moan that indicated she was enjoying everything she was receiving.


Down and Out



Our divorce had been final for three months. I was devastated, my wife had been sleeping with her boss for a year before she finally got the courage to admit it and ask me for a divorce. I felt horrible. I stopped exercising and started eating poorly, gaining more than twenty pounds. I felt like a loser. 

Finally I decided to go to a bar for the simple purpose of picking someone up for sex. I picked an out of the way place, not to seedy, but certainly not upscale. I had been drinking for two hours before I got the courage to talk to anyone. Finally I got up the courage to talk to a fairly sexy Latina girl sitting at the bar. I bought her a drink and we started chatting. We had nothing in common, but I found her attractive. The bar was about to close when I finally asked, "Do you want to come over to my place?" 

She smiled and said, "No, but you can spend the night at my apartment if you want." Her name was Helena and she was dark completed with long brown hair. She was much to young for me, but for tonight she would be perfect. I followed her home, we both drove slowly to avoid getting pulled over as we both would blow over the legal limit if forced. 

I pulled in next to her at the complex. I walked to the driver side door of her car and helped her out. We kissed for the first time. Her young body was tight and muscular, a little different than my ex-wife's 40-something soft-body. She took my hand and led me to her apartment. She offered me a drink and we sat on her couch and made out for a while. I was a little rusty at this sort of thing, having been out of the game for years. Her tits were fake, but they were perfect in size and shape. I had to get my lips around them. My ex-wife could have used a boob job like Helena. 

Helena then got on her knees and pulled my pants down. She went down on me like a pro, despite the fact that I had never been with a pro and that my ex-wife would NEVER give me a blowjob. Her hair was so soft, I ran it through my fingers as her head bobbed up and down over my cock. She squeezed my balls and semen erupted from my cock filing her throat. She gagged a little, but swallowed every last bit of cum. Her top was off and my pants were off, she took my hand and let me to the bedroom. She had a four poster bed. I climbed in and she pulled out padded wrist and ankle cuffs and asked if she could tie me down. Reluctantly I agreed, again I wasn't used to this sort of thing, but I was horny as hell. 

When Helena had me secure she blindfolded me. Then she began rubbing lubricant over my penis, which by this point was hard again. Helena positioned my cock under her and with a bit of work she managed to slide my cock inside of her. She was tight, far tighter than I recall anyone I had ever been with. She asked me how it felt, her Hispanic accent thick and seductive. I told her it was amazing, it was. 

I asked her to take the blind fold off and when she did my eyes adjusted to the dim light and I saw her amazing tits bouncing up and down over me. Her hair flowed over her shoulders as she leaned over to kiss me. We kissed until I was getting close to cumming. I told her, "I am not wearing a condom, do I need to pull out." She laughed telling me it wasn't going to be a problem. 

I wanted to hold her breasts, but my hands were restrained. Then she said, "I am about to cum as well." Just then I felt something hot hit my chin and then again on my chest. I looked down and saw than Helena had a PENIS! Helena was a man? She was so petite and beautiful. I realized my cock was in her, I mean his asshole. I immediately lost my erection as my penis shrunk to nothing. I begged him to let out, I just wanted to leave.

Helena smiled and said, "Almost baby, just a little longer and you can go, if you want to." Helena got up and got more lubricant. This time she began rubbing it all over her breasts, belly and then her cock. Then she began rubbing her body against mine. I was getting aroused again, I couldn't help it. Helena laughed, "You are still attracted to me, aren't you?" Her body was slithering all over mine. Then her finger slid inside of my anus, then another. She got more lubricant and put it in and around my anus and then on her penis. Carefully she slid it inside of me. It hurt at first, then I could feel the pressure on the base of my cock. It was like she was rubbing my cock from the inside. My erection grew as she fucked me. 

Then she leaned forward and kissed me. I didn't kiss her back. She lifted up her body and asked if I wanted to feel her tits. I looked down and saw them swaying over me. I felt so helpless. She was violating me, but it felt good. She was a man, but looked like a woman. I was so confused. She leaned forward again and kissed me again, her tongue slipping in my mouth I kissed her back. As I kissed her she unbuckled my left hand, freeing she said, "Hold me." I thought about hitting her as hard as I could to free myself, but it didn't seem right. 

She leaned up on her legs and lifted my butt so she could continue to fuck me from a seated position. She said, "Go ahead, touch them." I reached for her breast and squeezed it. Then she took my penis in her hand, it was erect, and began stroking it. I was close to ejaculation when she unbuckled my other hand. I was free, I could get away if I released my ankles, but Helena leaned forward to kiss me again I kissed her back and held her waist. Her waist was so small, like a young girl. My hands moved down to her ass and I felt her cum inside of me as I squeezed her ass. 

Helena lifted up and released my legs and said, "You must be ready to explode" noting that I had not cum all evening. It was true. She laid on her back and said, "Take me." I thought about leaving right then, but instead I grabbed the KY and slid my cock in her asshole until I came. I could feel her penis against my stomach as I fucked her ass, and when I was done I reached down and began jerking her off until she came. When it was over I dressed and got the hell out of there. I never told anyone about that night, until now. 



Down and Out



It was raining hard. I watched the light traffic roll by fifteen stories below. My place wasn't exactly a penthouse; there were but three of those in the building, and they were on the eighteenth floor; but what the heck, I liked my place. Four bedrooms, three baths, a kitchen I could play tennis in; well, if I even liked tennis, and a really well appointed wet bar. 

The streets of our little town—Granby Station, Ohio, population forty-some thousand—used to be heavy with cars and bikes and all manner of people on Saturday nights even when it did rain. But, with the price of gas these days, people didn't seem to do as much cruisin' as they used to. It was what it was.

I liked being inside in the rain. Great to watch, the rain, but no fun to drive in, not for me. Anyway, it was soothing to watch the clouds empty their contents on the earth below; that while holding a very well made manhattan in its hugely expensive crystal stem glass. Life was pretty good overall. The dim light of the street lamp a block distant lent an almost surreal aspect to the scene. I consciously sighed.

Tonight was a time for me to remember. I wondered what she was doing tonight. And, I wondered what she was wondering about or if she wondered at all. I supposed not, not about me at any rate; I was sure of that, well, pretty sure.

I'd not seen her in nine years; not since she left me and screwed me over in the divorce. Hate her? On some level, yes. No, that's not right, I didn't hate her; I just couldn't; I was kidding myself there. And no, it's not logical, not after what she did to me. The betrayal, the cold way she'd done me in the divorce: I still had a hard time getting my head around that. 

My name is Richard Cort. My ex-wife? Her name was Winifred Cort, nee Williams, and yeah, Win, or Winnie for short. Winnie and I had met in school, Excelsior Community College: she a nursing student at the time; and, though she eventually graduated; she'd failed the NCLEX and had just given up on nursing. The blow to her ego, as I saw it, was too much for her. She'd got herself a job checking at Rogers' Supermart, and continued to live with her parents.

Me, I was an Accounting major. After my time at ECC I'd gone on to the university, gotten my B.A., and later my M.B.A in Accounting, passed the CPA exam, and set up an independent shop in a small office in town. I did good too, well, eventually I did. I eventually would create something of a niche for myself specializing in business taxes and financial management for small to medium sized, mostly family owned, local companies. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Winnie and I had dated off and on the whole time we'd been at Excelsior, and thereafter as opportunities allowed. Then, done with academics, and opened for business, I'd asked her to marry me. She'd taken a little time to think about it, which fact kinda bothered me, but had eventually said yes. We were commonly twenty-five years old at the time. Her parents, Melba and Michael Williams, again with whom she'd been living, were thrilled with her decision. 

We'd struggled some in those early years as I worked horrendous hours to get my business going. And just as we were about to break out of the tough times, she hit me with it. 

Five years into married bliss, and it had been blissful in my opinion; I was served with divorce papers. I was stunned, hurt, and angry. At first I thought she was dumping me for another man, but no, there was no player waiting in the wings. Her declared reason for ending us? She wanted to find herself. And how did she intend to find herself? Why in the all-enveloping embrace of the Army! She was going to be all she could be.

She got the house in the divorce, our only significant asset though the equity wasn't all that much after just five years of paying. She hadn't been making much at the time either, so she also got nominal alimony, and a piece of my 401k, and half of our savings. What did I get? Why my car, and my clothes and seventy-five percent of my 401k and half of our savings. She actually smiled at me and wished me well when we left the courthouse. I told her to fuck off; well, I was angry. She looked genuinely surprised, hurt. It was some six months later, that she left for boot camp—at her age twenty-nine, almost thirty. I prayed that she'd sprain her ankle on the obstacle course.

******

Of course I hadn't seen her in nine years, but at the time of the divorce, Winnie'd been pretty. At five-nine, one-thirty, short raven black hair, and a generally slim figure: oh yeah, she'd been pretty all right. 

Me at the time? Five-eleven, one-seventy, thinning hair; and well, not especially pretty. Now? I'm still five-eleven, but now one ninety, mostly bald on top, and still not especially pretty. I do make some pretty good bread though—now. Female companionship? None worth mentioning; there'd been a few short term relationships over the years, but again, none worth mentioning. I'd spent most of my efforts trying to make a buck. At any rate, Winnie had spoiled me for other women. I just couldn't get over her; I couldn't.

As I watched the rain, still wondering, I made an on the spot decision. I'd not only not seen Winnie in the last nine years, I hadn't been back to the old neighborhood either. 

Grabbing my coat, I went out into the rain, got in my restored '56 Chevy Belaire, and headed east across town.

The old neighborhood was still alive at 8:00PM. I saw the house. Lights were on in the living room. Somebody was home. Winnie? Or, had she sold the place? Did I have the guts to find out? Well, nothing ventured nothing gained.

I got out and walked hesitantly toward my goal. What the hell, at worst all she could do, if it was her, was tell me to get lost. I smiled. Of course if she were married . . .

Approaching the door and ignoring what the rain was doing to my clothes and by inference me, I rapped on the door.

Nothing, no answer. I rapped again. I was turning to leave when the door opened and the warmth and the light from the living room flooded the space around me.

"Yes," she said. I turned to see her. Her face took on an expression that I shall likely never forget and couldn't adequately characterize.

"Sweet Jesus in heaven! Is that you, Richard?" she said.

"Uh—yes," I said.

"You're soaked. What are you . . . come in, come in before you catch your death," she said.

She took my coat and went to get me some towels. Back, she helped dry me off as best she could.

Five minutes later, I was seated at our old dinette table with a cup of too-hot-to-drink tea in front of me, and a very curious ex-wife across from me.

"Well, mister, I don't know what brought you to these environs on this absolutely awful night"—she was I was sure referring to the weather—"but I'd sure like to know," she said. I was rotating the cup in front of me. I looked up at her, spread my hands in an I-wish-I-knew gesture.

"I wish I knew," I said. She smiled. As she did, I took in the picture. Longer hair now, still slim, still A-cups, still pretty, and yes, still in charge of my heart.

"Well, it's nice to see you. It's been forever," she said. "How are you doing?"

"Relative to what?" I said.

"Richard?"

"I'm doing okay. Live on the other side of town now. Got an apartment; it's in the back of the shop." For some reason, I'm not really sure why, I didn't tell her about my almost penthouse at the Florian Estates. 

"Things are good for me overall. You?" I said. I saw her swallow. There was something wrong, but what. She looked toward the back of the house.

"Okay, I guess. Eating. Paying the bills—usually."

"Usually?" I said.

"Had some problems. But, like I say, things are mostly okay now."

"Problems? What kind of problems," I said.

"Richard...there's been...well a lot of history..." she started.

"Yes, well, I guess that's so," I said.

"Richard why have you come here tonight? I mean it's been so long," she said.

"Winnie, the truth is I don't know. You divorced me. I mean I have no business, no right. But, well, I have never stopped thinking about you, and—" 

"And?" she said.

"And, I needed, still need, to know why, Winnie. I mean why was I not enough for you. Why did you leave me? I mean really," I said. "You never said, and I—well—I never asked, not then. But since then, well, almost every day. I mean I ask myself why. I mean, well I mean, you know . . ." 

"Oh, Richard. That was so long ago. I'm not sure . . ."

"Winnie, please. I can take it. Really I can. I know it wasn't another man. I mean but the Army!" I said. She smiled a wan smile.

The Army was the . . ."

"The?" I said.

"It was my means of escape," she said.

"Escape from me?" I said.

"Richard this is not necessary. Really it's not. I'm not the same as I was then. Neither I suspect are you," she said. I snickered.

"No, no, I am not the same, I guess. Less hair," I said. Her turn to snicker.

"You know what I mean," she said. I went pensive. She knew I needed to hear the truth. The truth and only the truth. She sighed.

"It was a lot of things, Richard. I'd failed the nursing exam. No children."

"And me?" I said.

"Richard, I mean..."

"Winnie—and me?" I said.

"Richard, you were boring. In bed not very satisfying. We'd go to parties and you'd kinda smile a lot and engage in or say little or nothing. At home you were always working. During the day you were always—well—working at your office. It seemed, at the time, to be an endless chain of things that led nowhere. I had to get out. And, you are correct about other men; there weren't any. Not then." She said.

"Boring? I was boring?" I said. "You left me because I was boring?" She looked away.

"For godssake," I said. "I could have changed. Why didn't you give me a chance to change? Why!" I said, raising my voice a little too much.

"Richard, I don't mean to demean you. But—you're an accountant. Richard—I mean an accountant! There are few occupations that breed boring more certainly than that. At the time I felt that I had to escape," she said.

"At the time?" I said. She looked sad.

"I was younger. Thought I needed something different. I was just twenty-nine. The young don't always do things the smart way."

As I listened to her, I was beginning to think that she was regretting having left me. Wishful thinking on my part? Maybe.

"Miss me? I mean after the fact," I said, changing the subject, getting to the point, more or less radically.

"Not at first. You knew I did go into the Army."

"Yes. And—can I ask? Did you ever sprain your ankle? I mean in boot camp?" I said. She looked at me strangely. Well, the question was kind of a strange one I suppose.

"No, broke my thumb and got battered up in training some. But, no, no ankle injury? Why do you ask a question like that?" she said. I smiled.

"It doesn't matter," I said.

"I was in for four years. Did a tour in Iraq. Mustered out. Got married a year later. Had the babies. Divorced a year ago now."

"Winnie, you mentioned problems." She gave me a look. And, yes, I heard her remark about having babies, plural.

"Like I said I was married. For three years. Had three children," she motioned toward the back of the house. "He left me. Served me right I guess after what I did to you." I gave her a studied look.

"You have anyone now?" I said, and I could feel my blood pressure go up as I did. I left the question as to why she was abandoned and divorced by husband number two for another day.

"No, not too many men want a woman with my baggage," she said. "I date on a rare occasion, but nothing comes of any of it. Dates, like I said, but no relationships if that's what you're asking?" I nodded.

"Sounds like my situation. I mean dates, but no relationships," I said. Her turn to nod.

For the next minutes the silence was thunderous.

"Winnie, I don't know what's happening here, but whatever it is, it leads me to ask a question," I said.

"A question?"

"Yes, well mister boring here would like to ask you for a date. And, in so asking, might mister boring expect a positive response to his request?" I said. She gave me a look, a smirk, then a genuine smile.

"Yes, miss Winnie would be happy to make you happy with a positive response," said my ex-wife. My turn to smile. The date would be for the following Friday evening. For this one I would be putting on dog. Oh yeah. Boring it definitely would not be.

******

I maybe should note here that, in spite of having three kids, Winnie had changed hardly at all. Maybe an extra ten pounds—maybe. But, everything else the same as far as I could see.

We were pushing forty the both of us, but tonight we were like teenagers feeling our way through a first date. We were at The Post, a small but very high priced bistro just outside of town.

Our wines in front of us, I kept playing with mine, turning the glass, squeezing the stem.

"Richard? What are you doing?" said Winnie. I sighed.

"Win, I'm so freakin' nervous, I can't even begin to tell you. I'm terrified that I might bore you, and I am not kidding," I said. There, I'd said it; I'd gotten it out. "I guess I just don't really know how to act around a woman of your quality, or any woman." She smiled, and it was an indulgent smile.

"Richard, I'm a lot easier to please than I was years ago. Just be yourself. Tell you what, if you do something really boring, I'll let you know. Okay?" she said. I looked up at her.

"Okay," I said. "Would you? I'd actually appreciate it." She broke out laughing.

"Richard, you're a ding dong, you know that. And, I still very much love you for that quality. Yes, I said love you. You were always the best, just, well . . ."

"Not enough at the time?" I finished for her. She tendered me a quizzical glance.

"You know—yes—at the time. But this is now. I'm older. I know better. So, stop worrying about being boring. I'll sigh real loudly if you begin to put me to sleep. That'll let you know. Okay?" she said.

"Yes, okay," I said. 

The steaks were great. The dancing was really great—God the feel of her body against mine—it was indescribable. We went out for coffee afterwards.

"Have fun?" I said.

"You bet, sailor," she said. "Most in a long time."

"So, we can . . .?" I started.

"Do it again?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "Maybe next Saturday night?"

"It's a date," she said. "Rich, I really am glad you came to see me the other night, rain and all. You helped me a lot whether you know it or not. I was kinda down in the dumps, and, there you were."

"Win, I will always be there for you. Any time of the day or night. You've got my number. I hope you wake me up at 3:00AM to tell me you need me for something, anything," I said. She smirked.

"Anything?" she said. Suddenly I was a red faced teenager certain I had ruined my chances with my date.

"Don't worry, Richard, you didn't say anything wrong. Really," she said. 

"I'm always doing stuff like that," I said. "Saying stuff like that. I'm well known around town as foot-in-the-mouth Ritchie." She laughed uproariously at my description of myself. And, I was red faced again. Frustrating!

I checked my watch. It was 11:00PM. We were standing in front of her house. The house that used to be our house. She had a look on her that spelled "decision time."

"You can come in, Richard. I want you to," she said. My eyes got as big as dinner plates. Could she be . . . "My parents have the children until tomorrow, so it's all right." I followed her in and closed the door behind us.

Have a seat, I'll be back in a minute," she said. I did as she commanded.

Ten minutes later—and yes I had been checking my watch—she reappeared in a long flannel night gown. My look must have cued her to my disappointment. She laughed.

"Don't worry, Richard, you're staying the night, and you will get to fuck me. But it's kinda cool out here, and I think we could do with a night cap or two before you take me. Okay?" she said.

"Yes," I squeaked.

"Sorry I took so long to change."

"Sure, sure," I said. "I understand."

She went to the little cabinet against the far wall. It was the same one we'd always kept the liquor in so many years ago. Some things never changed, I guessed. She poured us each a JD neat. We'd had a glass of wine at dinner, but that's all until now. She'd remembered my favorite. I wondered if she'd gotten it special for me during the week. It was a new bottle. 

"You any better at screwing a woman than you used to be?" she said. I think it was a serious question.

"I don't know," I said. "But, you are for sure gonna get my A-game," I said. She smiled.

"Good," she said. She poured us a couple of refills and we sipped them, not exactly fast, but with some small degree of urgency as one might be inclined to say. Finished, she came to me.

She looked down at me sitting on the couch as I was. In one swift movement, she pulled the flannel teaser up-over-and-off of her. She had nothing underneath.

She mounted the couch on her knees, butt back and looked back at me. "You gonna stay dressed all night or what?" she said.

"I'll take the or what," I said. I have never, I mean never in my life, stripped that fast. I fell to my now naked knees and just gazed at her treasures. I leaned in to her and kissed her buttocks. Spreading her cheeks and slave-like licked and sucked on her anus. She was trying to stifle a giggle, I could tell.

I switched to her pussy. I sucked on her clit till I was sure it was raw, and enjoyed the hell out of the fact as I knew she'd cum twice because of my efforts. I knew it because she squirted. I stood and poked at her. She was no help. I had to guide my cock into her and listened as she sighed, I hoped with pleasure, and not disappointment.

I began to fuck her slowly. God she was tight. I don't think she'd had all that many dates in recent days. Beautiful though he was, she couldn't have. Well, and so what if that were the case; neither had I been getting lucky all that much. But, I wondered at it, her possible paucity of pussy pounding.

She began to squirm, to shiver, and finally to convulse; she'd made it. God did I feel good about that. In ancient times I hadn't gotten her off but once in fifty tries. But tonight, now, I had. It boded well for any hopes I had that she'd be mine again at least in some way.

"That, dear man, was very good. I needed it bad too. It'd been a while," she said. Well, that answered any doubts I had about her having been getting much; she hadn't.

We lay beside each other only mildly exhausted. It was half past twelve. "It was exceptionally good for me," I said. "God, Win, how I have missed you!"

"I've missed you too, Ritchie, really," she said.

It had been a good night, a very good night. I didn't stay the night after all; it just didn't feel right to, not yet. That, however, I knew would soon happen. I was going to make it happen.

******

A week later we were sitting at the dinette, her dinette, coffees refilled.

"So tell me," I said.

"There's almost too much to tell," she said. I don't know. Hashing it over. I don't know."

"Honey girl, I need to know. I'm your new old lover. I need to you to feel safe and loved and okay. For that to happen, I need to know what you've got going and what might still be out there," I said. She sighed.

"Okay," she said. "To begin with you know I was married. He was a black guy, Richard. King sized cock, king sized ego, and a pathological wife beater. Name was Nelson Ripley. Two of my daughters are his; their names are Beth, age three; and Cali age two. Because of the beatings, I took to drinking too much. When the divorce happened he almost got custody because of that, the drinking. But he didn't; he got twenty years instead for dealing meth."

"Jesus!" I said. "But you have three daughters?" 




Down and Out



"I do. The other one had a different daddy. He's white, and he's in the wind. We, well, we weren't married. He paid the bills when Ripley was sent up, got me preggers, and Bernice age one. One day he just took off with some teeny bopper without so much as a by you leave. His name was Gordon Manning." I nodded.

"And your job now, you haven't said," I said.

"No, no job, I'm on welfare, Ritchie. So, if you need money you've come to the wrong place," she said, smiling. She knew I didn't need her money; well, I hope she did.

"No, dear heart, I don't need any money. I am employed," I said. "We haven't talked about finances or jobs or anything like that so far, but tonight we are going to."

"Whatever," she said.

"Win, it would seem to be obvious, but can I ask. Do you still have any feeling of love for either of the babies'daddies?" I said. She gave me a strange look.

"No, none at all. The one was cruel and evil the other abandoned us. So no, none," she said. I sagged back in my chair.

"Win, I make enough to help you out, and if you will allow; I'm going to do just that," I said. She smiled, it was a condescending smile.

"I can't let you do that," she said. "I'm sure you're doing fine, but handling two households is a lot. Especially when the other household includes three growing babies.

"And, Ritchie I have some very big debts and a loan—well, a bad loan," she said.

My turn to smile. "I can afford it, and them too, and I just need you to allow me the chance to be your knight in shining armor. Okay?" I said. "And what is this bad loan if I may ask?" She didn't want to answer me.

"I needed to take the baby Melba to the doctors, asthma. I got a loan from a guy, but the interest is too great, and the bill keeps getting bigger and bigger." My eyes narrowed. 

"A loan shark?" I said. She nodded.

"Yes," she said.

"How much?" I said.

"Ritchie, it's all right. I will pay it somehow. I can't ask you to take on something that large," she said.

"Yeah, well, I am," I said. "So how much? Please," I said.

"It was five thousand, but it's almost ten now," she said.

"When is it due? The first," she said. 

"And, if you don't pay it back?" I said. "If you shine the guy on?" She looked away. 

"I was going to take out a second mortgage," she said. "There's enough equity to pay him off."

I didn't say that that's what she should have done in the first place, not be messing with gangsters. But, I kept my mouth shut.

What I didn't want to do at that moment was to reveal to her my real financial situation. So I dodged the bullet, by ducking. "I have a friend, a banker—which I really did—who'll make you the loan real cheap and real fast. How would that be?" I said. "I may be boring, but I am an accountant and I do know a few people." I was smiling. And, so was she, but her smile was tentative.

What I had done, and that on purpose, was to leave her with the impression that I was just a bit above average income guy without actually saying such. It's where I wanted to leave things for the present.

"Anything else, any other problems," I said.

"No, no other problems," she said. "Except maybe how to thank you for still caring about me. And, I will take you up on the bank loan; that would be a godsend." 

"I will always care about you, dear heart, no matter what. All I ask is that you give me a chance to show you how much," I said. She came to me and kissed me harder than I have ever been kissed even by her.

I did arrange the loan, and no her credit would not even have been strong enough to get it herself, but mine was. As for the mortgage, that's almost never a good idea for someone in her situation. It would have been her last refuge, and understanding her situation, as I now did, she'd have been back in the hole anyway in a short time—it was no win for her going down that road. At any rate, she had me now, so she was safe. Safer than she knew.

******

Mister Ripley was history, and a friend of mine on the force was alerted to him. I figured he'd screw up sooner or later and get nailed. Well, that was the hope. I hated men who threatened women; well, it's who I am.

Things went along swimmingly for a few months. She and I didn't have anything formal worked out, but we were getting it on pretty regular, usually once a week after our dates. My long dead psyche was brought back to life, and then it wasn't.

We had planned to go dining and dancing on Friday night. I was taking her to a special place I knew of up by the lake. The view was great up there, the food good, and the music and dancing of the mellow variety. 

I showed up at her place at 7:00, the appointed time. She wasn't home. I called her cell; it was off. I prayed nothing had happened to her. I'd check on her later, and yes, I was holding my breath.

No one to go out with, but dressed for a night out, I hit the nearest bar, a country western sawdust joint. I'd been there about half an hour when they came in. She was dressed nicely. He was overdressed and looked like the prototype of the drugstore cowboy: sequins and tassels on his shirt—and pants! She'd clearly stood me up, and for a serious loser at that; well, that was the way I looked at things.

My pride actually took a hit with this guy being her choice for the evening. His outfit though bespoke something else: he had some bucks. His boots were genuine snakeskin, probably in the neighborhood of $1,000 worth. I watched as he secured a table and came up to the bar to order. I smiled at him; he smiled back. He ordered two Heinekens. Goin' all out for his woman of the evening I could see. 

He took his beers back to their table. I watched as he did so. When he got there, he kinda toasted me, raising his bottle in my direction and smiled. It was then that she saw me. She paled. I raised my manhattan to him and smiled back, took a sip, set the glass down, and went to pay and leave.

She didn't come after me and she didn't immediately call me or text me or anything. I went home to cry in my beer over my life and especially my boring personality. I figured she was after the guy to maybe get some security. Why not me? Didn't have a clue. Maybe she figured the guy had more bucks than I did.

I chalked it up to experience and decided to forget her, finally, and get on with my life. Well, I was hurt—okay! 

I really didn't cotton to being stood up; it was a kind of betrayal the way I saw it. Maybe a minor one, but a betrayal nonetheless. If we hadn't had a date, I would have been a little disappointed, but not as destroyed as was in fact the case.

I finally got a visit a week later at the shop; she had the address. She still hadn't seen where I really lived. The room in the back had a cot, a small bathroom, and a mini-kitchen. I used it a lot during tax season. And, I had been using it more since going out with Winnie, and now that all worked for me.

******

It was early evening; I had just gotten done with some paperwork. The knock was light but hearable.

"Winnie!" I said. I was genuinely surprised as I answered the door.

"Persona no grata or can I come in," she said. I stared at her for a moment deciding. I left the door open and went back inside. I was still putting away papers I'd been going over. She took a seat on the rattan bench my customers used.

"Whaddya need, Win," I said. She sighed.

"So this is where you live—and work?" she said. It was clear she was not impressed with my "apparent" economic state.

"Yes," I said. Well, it was only a little lie. I did stay at the shop sometimes, kinda often of late actually.

"I'm here to apologize," she said. "I stood you up. I was a skunk. I am very sorry for doing that to you."

"That it?" I said.

"No. I'd like to take you to dinner," she said. I gave her a look that must have spelled suspicion.

"It won't happen again," she said.

"Why do you want to go out with me. Seems you already have a replacement for me," I said.

"Hardly, and certainly not with that guy," she said.

"You didn't get along with your cowboy?" I said, kinda sarcastically.

"Cowboy! Hell no, he's no cowboy; he's a building contractor. Makes some good bucks, but that's where it ends with him. Hell, he was so boring he made you look like Jason Bourne," she said. The endless hits to my ego were taking a toll, but she seemed to realize it this time and regrouped.

"I mean the old you," she said. "You're not so bad anymore. Really." Another qualified shot to my ego, but, at least qualified.

"Hmm, well thank you for that. I think," I said.

"It's true, Rich, really," she said. I shrugged.

"So, whaddya say?" she said.

"About what?" I said.

"Dinner? Tonight," she said.

"It's Tuesday," I said.

"Yes, but you're the boss here aren't you?" she said. I nodded.

"Okay, I guess," I said. My lack of enthusiasm seemed to get to her some. Well, it should have.

******

We dined and danced and went to the park for a late night stroll. "What is it you're looking for, Win? I mean really?" I said, as we strolled along. She gave me a look.

"I mean do I have a chance with you? You must have figured out by now that I want you back. But, tell me truly, am I spinning my wheels? Am I wasting my time with you?" I said. Now, she smiled.

"I still have feelings for you, Ritchie. I do. But . . . " she said.

"But, what? I love you, Win. I will take care of you. You and the babies. I'm employed. I do okay economically. You say I'm not as boring as I used to be. So what's the hang up?" I said.

"I don't know, Ritchie. I guess I just want to make sure that I don't blow it like I always seem to be doing.

"The other night with the cowboy, Barry Caldwell, I was with him to see if he and I would match up. He makes a lot of money. Well, and well, I'm looking out for my babies now, not just me. I want them to have what I have so far not been able to give them. 

"You're a good guy, Richard. The best, really. But, I know what you make. We lived together for five years. I've seen where you live. Oh, I'm sure you're doing okay now, overall. And I have give you credit; I know how hard you work. But, Ritchie, I'm at a place in my life today where I don't want to struggle anymore. If I had the money, I guess, I'd marry you in a New York minute. But, I'm flat broke. Don't have two nickels to rub together.

"I don't want to struggle anymore, Ritchie, and I don't want to saddle you with responsibilities that are not of your making. I guess what I'm saying is that I want to wait and see before taking the plunge again. Would that be all right with you, Rich?" she said. "I mean I want to be fair to you, and frankly to myself too."

"Okay, Win. I understand. Just please, don't stand me up again, okay," I said. She gave out a small laugh.

"I won't, big guy. I was an asshole their other night. It won't happen again."

And for six months things went very well. We dated, we fucked, we got close again. And, I was thinking of actually popping the question. But then it happened—again!

******

This time she called to cancel; that is she didn't just not show up. I guess one could say that things were improving. Said she wasn't feeling well, and would I mind if we postponed to the following weekend, she said. I probably sounded a little grumpy, but that was because I knew she was lying. If she knew me from long ago, well, I could say the same thing about her.

By 6:00, I was parked a ways down the street where I could see her front door. A very nice Lexus pulled up in front at 6:25. She came out, hopped in, and she and whoever drove off. I went home.

I didn't call her during the week, and she didn't call me until Thursday. I didn't take the call. And, I didn't show up Friday night, the night of our scheduled, actually rescheduled, date.

I had been paying her rent and utilities since we'd gotten back to dating each other, even after our mini-breakup, but now I stopped. Her lover or lovers could do the paying now. If she didn't respect me enough to keep her promises, then I had no interest in helping her out. Well, I did, but I was simply not going to be used.

I was more or less surprised that I didn't hear from her again for three full months, not even a text message. It was clear to me that she'd deduced that I knew what she'd done and was afraid to talk to me. But three months later, after, as I'm sure was the case, she thought I'd had enough time to cool off, she showed up again. It was a Sunday morning, 9:00AM, and once again I'd been staying at the office.

"Hi Ritchie," she said. "Still mad at me?"

"Yes," I said, and slammed the door in her face. She must have been waiting. She had to have been still on the porch, deciding I guess, about the wisdom of making a second go at me. Some five minutes lapsed before she rang the doorbell again.

"I told you, yes I'm still mad at you, Winnie. Now please leave. Okay."

"Please, Ritchie. May I come in for a few minutes?" she said.

Those cow eyes she attacked me with got her in. I was still mad at her for how she'd done me, but I just couldn't resist talking to her.

"Whaddya want, Win. You did me wrong, again, and I feel like a fool having let you get away with it the first time. Who was it by the way, the contractor?" I said. She looked away.

"Yes," she whispered. "He, well he made me promises. But, he broke them all," she said.

"Kinda like you?" I said, and that sarcastically.

"I deserved that," she said. "I love you Rich. I realized that after Harry, the contractor, screwed me over. Money isn't everything. I wish I had some, but it isn't everything. I realize that now," she said. "Forgive me?" she said.

God help me, she looked so helpless in that moment that I did forgive her. And, I hated my weakness for doing so. But weakness or not I could not hate the woman, and I wanted to hate her! She was an idiot and that was all there was to it. But, no, I loved her too much to not forgive her, and so I did.

My forgiveness led to several more than interesting consequences. 

One, I got to see more of the babies as time went on and they were adorable. I hadn't had a chance to see all that much of them previously because I lived across town and pretty much the only times I was at her place was to take her out. But now I moved in on the weekends: her idea: it was bigger than my little mini-apartment at the office as she pointedly noted. And, it would allow me to be mnore4 confident in her faithfulness. Oh, and I should mention that in the almost a year since that rainy night; she had not yet been to my real place; but hell, I hadn't seen all that much of it either; and now it was tax season.

And then there was the second thing, she inherited a bit of money; well, if a hundred grand could be considered a mere bit. This however, her money, I did not know about for some little time.

******

Our dates resumed, the sex resumed, and then she was gone, again, without warning or phone call or note on the door jamb, none of it. And, my anger resumed. And then she returned, as she thought, to resume our relationship!

"Honey, honey! I've got news!" she said. My look, as I answered the door that Tuesday morning—at 6:00 fucking AM—two weeks later, must have cued her to the undeniable fact that I was more than a little pissed.

"Oops! You're pissed, huh?" she said.

"Mightily," I said. "You can leave now never to return," and I slammed the door in her face. Didn't Yogi Berra have something to say about situations like this one?

There was no five minute "thinking about it delay" this time. She was ringing the bell and pounding on the door with gusto and grim and relentless determination before I'd gotten six feet from it. I opened it again, and that with a grim determination of my own. I was not sitting still for her having found yet another "it just happened cock" to satisfy her need for that which did not bore her. I was not.

But just as I opened the door and was about to open my mouth she rushed in and commanded me to sit!

"Sit!"

"What are you doing! I just told you to pound pavement! Go!" I said.

"No! And shut the fuck up. My grandma died," she said. She'd stopped me.

"Grandma Williams?" I said.

"No, my great grandma Dorsey, my mom's side; she was ninety-six. I'd never even met her except these past two weeks: she lived in Virginia. I was there when she died," she said.

"So you're saying you weren't out fucking another drugstore cowboy?" I said. She gave me a look that spelled volumes.

"Oh! No! No-no-no-no-no," she said. 

"You should have called me, something," I said. Now she sat down. 

"I didn't?" she said. It was like she didn't realize that she hadn't called me. Now I was pissed all over again.

"I didn't realize I hadn't called you. But—I didn't did I," she said, almost to herself. "Oh, Richard, I feel so bad!" 

"Uh-huh," I said. "It's clear to me Win, that I am just not that important to you. You really do need to find someone else. Someone maybe a bit less boring, and less forgettable than me," I said. I was rising to get the door so she could leave.

"Sit down, Richard. I'm not leaving. In a little bit, you're going to fuck me, and I'm going to love it—and you—and we are going to resume our lives together," she said. "Uh, our married lives together."

"What? Huh? When you can't even be bothered to remember to call me when you leave town? What kind of marriage would that be?" I said.

"I know, I know. But, this was a special case. I was whisked away by mom and dad. And then I was at Grandma's bedside, and then there was the reading of the will, and the relatives and the lawyers, and the I don't know what all. And, I thought I had called you; in my mind I had," she said. "And, Richard it was all so crazy."

I sagged, I was standing next to the door, but now I sagged against it. "Okay, get it out, all of it. I'm still pissed, and you will not tell me to wait or you're tired or any of it. Just get it all out. And, I mean now!" I said. She nodded.

"Okay," she said. An hour later she was done. It was indeed quite a tale. I could see she'd been overwhelmed and she was tired. But I didn't care. I really was still pissed.

"That it," I said.

"Not quite," she said. "There is one more thing." A slight smile began it spread across her face. I looked her askance.

"Well?" I said.

"Well, I never knew it, but great grandma Dorsey was rich. Even mom didn't know it, not exactly. I mean mom knew she had property a hotel and a small restaurant in Richmond. Mom inherited those; they're, mom and dad, planning to move back east right away, but that's another story. There were a few cousins still in the mix too and an organization catering to animal rights. But, no other close direct relatives. The cousins and the animal rights people were at the funeral too. They mostly arrived the day before it, actually," she said.

"Okay?" I said.

"Richard, great grandma, left a million dollars in cash. Half of it went to the animals. The rest was divided up equally among the cousins. And, Richard—and me. I got one hundred thousand dollars, minus taxes of course, but I'll still be coming out pretty good. Richard, you and I will be coming out pretty good.

"Richard we can afford to get remarried!" she said. She was so ebullient that I couldn't help but smile, so I did.

She came to me, threw her arms around me and cried. Damn women. 

"Okay, Winifred, you and I will talk some more, but okay," I said. 

And, yes, friends I was indeed still pissed. And, also indeed, still madly in love with her. 

Cuddling on the couch we kissed thirty or forty times, felt each other up more or less continuously, and generally made up. And, then she hit me with yet another kick in my emotional balls.

I rose to lead her upstairs. She pulled me back down beside her on the couch. I gave her a what-now look.




Down and Out



"Richard, I have a confession to make," she said.

I looked at her with a gaze laden with suspicion. "Yes?" I said.

Well, all these months, I mean since you knocked on my door that rainy night, you have been my number one guy; you know that, right?" She said.

"Your number one guy?" I said, not quite understanding her.

"Yes, but well, there have been a few other men, not many but a few over that time period," she said. I think she was holding her breath waiting to see if I was going to blow up.

"You mean besides the drugstore cowboy!" I said. Now, I had questions.

"Yes, a few, not many," she said.

"A few, Winnie? How many is a few?" I wasn't quite out of control—yet."

"Maybe a half dozen?" she said. 

"What the fuck! When was the last one, and give it to me straight," I said. I was clearly brooking no bullshit, not this time.

She said something, but so quietly I couldn't hear it. "What?" I said. She sighed.

"The day before yesterday," she said. She was not meeting my gaze.

"The what! The day before yesterday! And, you come in here expecting that I'm going to marry you and just forget all about all of this! Are you fucking crazy!" I didn't quite scream. No, I take that back; I was screaming.

"Richard, that—all of it—was before we were in a position to get married again. Now things are different. I will never again have another man. You are not only number one now, you are the only one," she said.

"And, I should believe you why?" I said.

"I don't know. I just know it's the truth. I have never loved anyone else but you. Well, there's my babies of course; but that's different," she said. I nodded.

"I don't know what to do here, Winnie. You've left me nowhere to go and with all kinds of questions. It's not a very nice place to be either," I said.

"But Richard, we have the money now. I won't lose the house. And you don't have to keep paying the rent out of your salary. You can have it all," she said.

"All of what?" I said. She looked at me like I was crazy.

"Why the money of course. And—me," she said, and that kind of quietly. 

Now I was in a quandary. I knew how much that money meant to her. And, she was willing to give it all to me to get me to—what—accept her past playing around and to forgive her and marry her again. It was crazy, but I nodded.

"Richard, I have finally realized just how much I love you and more just how much you love me. I have to have you. There is no sacrifice I wouldn't make to guarantee that you'll be mine," she said.

"Okay," I said. "Okay, Winnie. But this is how it's going to be. You will hand over the money to me. And, you will sign a prenup that guarantees that if you play around on me that you will end up with nothing. If that program works for you, we'll get it all done forthwith."

"Yes," she said. "It works for me." And it did. And we were remarried a week later. And then we went on our honeymoon. But, there was still a little, eensy teensy, problem. I was a liar by omission. And it was about to play hell with my self-satisfied solution to all of our problems.

******

The ship was big and so was the Caribbean. The cruise was wonderful. I'd never been on one, but now I was, that is, we were. St. Thomas was still a day out. The cost? Ten grand. She was having a good time, so was I. But there was something that wasn't right. Finally, she let me have it. And it stopped me—cold.

"Honey," she started, "I can trust you right?" she said. Coming from her I thought it an odd question, but, as it turned out it was a fair question.

"Yes, of course," I said. "Why would you ask such a thing?" I had assumed she was referring to my being sexually monogamous. That twern't it.

"Honey, the money I gave you, you know," she said.

"Yes," I said. 

"Well, I'm glad we were able to afford this wonderful honeymoon. But, well, I don't want to ruin it for us. But well . . ."

"Win? What is it you're trying to say?' I said, really not having a clue.

"Well, I know you couldn't afford this, this wonderful cruise, honeymoon, on what you make; so, I have to assume you used some of the money that I gave you.

"Richard, I was kind of hoping that we could invest the bulk of that money to ensure our futures, not spend it; well, you know, too loosely." I sagged back against the rail we had been standing at.

"Oh," I said. Now I had a problem. I had been meaning to out myself to her as to my real wealth, but I had wanted to do it in a staged manner so as to not get hit with the flack that now seemed certain to overwhelm me.

I had actually taken all of it, her money, and put it in an irrevocable trust account for her. I didn't need it, she didn't need it, unless she cheated on me; which was seeming less and less likely as the days passed. I coughed.

I eye'd her. "Win, I have a little confession to make of my own. Actually, I was planning on outing myself to you on our return, but I think that maybe now is the best time . . ."

"Richard! You haven't lost it, spent it, used it!" she said. She was actually terrified. "Richard you have always been so careful with money. I thought I could trust you. Richard what have you done!" she said. She gave me a look and stalked off toward our cabin.

I stood there floored. Talk about taking things for granted, jumping to conclusions. She just had and that big time. And frankly, I was a little bit pissed—again. But, well, just a little.

I headed for the nearest bar; there were a dozen of them on the boat. Two JDs later I found myself marching for our cabin door. I entered. She lay on the bed. She'd been crying. I'd been drinking. They're not the same thing.

"Richard, how could you, $83,000 gone!" she said to me. I took a deep breath.

"Winnie, it is not gone, not even a penny of it," I said. Her head snapped around. 

"Huh?" she said.

"Winifred Cort, you need to stop jumping to conclusions and making crazy assumptions. And, you are right, I am careful with money. And you are wrong, I can afford a honeymoon like this on what I make," I said.

"Huh?" she said.

"Winifred, you playing around with those other men, and yes, I suspected it was more than just with the drugstore cowboy; didn't know it, but did suspect it. Well, it made me skittish about telling you anything meaningful. But, that said . . .

"I had just about gotten to the point where I was going to be trusting you again, when you came back from your great grandma's and laid the rest of your tale on me. I cannot tell you how disappointed I was to hear all of that," I said.

"But . . ."

"But, when you offered to hand over your inheritance, that caught my attention. I thought I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. You were willing to make a sacrifice, and to you it was a big one. And I was certain that it bothered you to do it, bothered you a lot. So, I thought, okay; I upped the ante, and got you to sign the prenup as well. That put me in control of a bad situation, bad for me. I need you to be faithful. If you are, you've got it made, Winifred Cort, nee Williams."

"I don't understand?" she said.

"Winnie, I was out of the picture, your picture for many years. A lot happened. I did good. Winnie, I'm a multi-millionaire: twenty million give or take actually," I said.

She started to stare, then convulse, then laugh, then faint. It was a true Kodak moment.

While she was out I set up my laptop. She came to with a little help from me after some several minutes.

Her eyes popped open. "Huh?" she said. 

"Come here," I said. I set her in front of the computer. "Click." She did and my bank account came up. Choose accounts and look at certificates." She did.

"It says four million," she said. You mentioned twenty million. 

"The rest is in property and other securities," I said. "They're not listed on the bank site."

"Properties?"

"For one is our villa in Torremolinos, Spain. It's small, but quite nice and the view really superb," I said. "There are others."

"We're rich?" she squeaked.

"Very," I said. She screamed and attacked me, first with kisses, then with hugs and kisses, and then with one humungous slap to the face!

"That's for scaring the shit outta me," she said, and then she began kissing me some more.

The sex that night? Kinky and fatiguing and destructive of one's physicality. We were going to make it. Yes, indeed.

******



Down and Out in Miami



Under the heading of 'It seemed like a good idea at the time', my girlfriend Valerie and I left our upper Midwest home and drove to work in Yellowstone National Park for the summer. 

We had both worked at a neighborhood bar & grill, she waited tables and I tended bar, until the owner, generous to a fault, had to close the doors due to lack of funds. 

Val and I met there, began dating, then we moved in together. It was a 'fun' relationship. After work we'd have a couple 'shifters', sometimes go to an 'after hours' club and go home to enjoy more libations. She was a few years older than me but looked great, and was fun to be around. She had a terrific personality.

When we arrived at the Canyon area of Yellowstone to process in for work we made one crucial mistake: we told them we weren't married. Who'd have thought in this day and age that would still matter to some people? So they wouldn't allow us to stay together in the same room. We both were assigned rooms with members of our own gender. Val worked the curio counter, and I stocked groceries and worked the cash register.

Our co-workers fell into two categories: college kids working a summer job and having fun, and older, retired couples who worked to earn some traveling money. I was 22 and Val was 34. The older people were wary of our situation, but the college kids liked to party with us. She made everyone smile and laugh, and, she could hold her liquor, too.

After work every night we'd hit the bar, and on our days off we played 'tourist' and drove around the park. By the end of the summer I'm sure we'd been to every bar in the park, and in West Yellowstone and Gardner, Montana.

The summer was winding down and we didn't know where we'd go once our store closed for the season. One day I saw a notice on the bulletin board about work in Everglades National Park in Florida. We discussed it and applied for jobs.

A week later we found out we were hired: Val would wait tables again, and I'd be a bartender. Great, we thought. Tipping jobs! Yellowstone is beautiful but you can't get rich on minimum wage. We worried about having enough money to even drive to Florida.

One night after work, and after the bar closed, Val and I went to our rooms. I couldn't sleep. I started thinking about our upcoming trip to Florida. I wanted to plan our route so I dressed and went out to the car to get the map. 

When I got close to the car I heard noises coming from the back seat. What the hell? I thought. I snuck up to the window and looked inside: Val was naked and sliding up and down the cock of one of the kids we worked with, Todd. He was certainly well-endowed!

I pounded on the window; I was furious and felt betrayed. 

She rolled down the window, and didn't even bother to cover herself. "What the hell do you want?" she snarled at me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, stunned.

"Get out of here -- I'll see you in the morning!" She rolled up the window.

I was in a daze as I walked back to our building. Before I went inside I turned and looked at the car. They weren't in any hurry to get dressed and get out of the car. I stood and waited; I never saw them get out.

Needless to say, a week later I was driving by myself to Florida.

I don't remember much about the first couple days on the road. I guess I was still in shock. The weather was good and I made good time. I didn't have much money so motels were out of the question. When I felt the need for sleep I'd pull into a rest area and try to doze, but the backseat of the car was filled with boxes, and the front seat was uncomfortable, so I only managed thirty or forty minute catnaps. Luckily I still had a good supply of amphetamines to keep me awake. 

Valerie was on my mind for much of the trip. I replayed over and over in my head our big confrontation the day after I'd caught her screwing in the car.

She refused to speak with me before work, and she wouldn't let me sit next to her at lunch or dinner. I waited outside our dorm at the usual time we'd go to the bar. She came outside and we walked together.

"Val, w-why did you do that? I don't understand!" I asked.

"You stupid little boy! I've been sucking and fucking Todd for the last month!" It felt like a sharp slap across my face. 

"W-Why? I thought we had something special!"

She laughed in my face. "Listen, you needle-dick prick...all you care about is getting high...that's all you ever care about...you were a lousy lay to begin with -- now you can't even get it up!"

"I'll change -- I promise! You'll see, when we go to Florida—"

She cut me off. "Listen, Johnny...you're a nice guy, but you have a whole lot of problems...there's no way in hell I'm going anywhere with you! I'm going home with Todd."

Then she sneered in my face. "Oh, by the way, did you like what you saw?"

'W-What do you mean?" I asked.

"Oh," she smiled, "You sure took a long look at Todd's cock last night...nice one, isn't it? Did you like it, Johnny?" She laughed loudly and continued walking to the bar. I went back to the dorm.

I tried to avoid her that last week. When we did come face to face, that sarcastic grin of hers would make me blush.

I took a hard, long look at myself. I couldn't figure out what 'problems' I had that she was talking about. Sure, I liked to party, but who didn't? I wasn't an alcoholic -- I didn't drink every day. I held jobs, paid my bills, lived responsibly. Yes, I did enjoy getting high, and yes, it was beginning to affect my sexual performance. But she liked drinking as much as I did...I liked getting high -- I liked being able to 'escape'.

My car troubles started as soon as I passed the sign that welcomed me to Florida. Whenever it rained the engine would die, the power steering wouldn't work and I had to fight to get the car to the side of the road. It happened quite often -- this was Florida, after all. I would usually have to wait 30-40 minutes before the car would start again.

Florida City was the last big town before the Everglades. I was two days early for my reporting date, and I calculated I had enough money for a motel and food. It was Sunday, football day, and they gave me an early check-in, so I took my travel bag, and what was left of the half-gallon Jim Beam bottle into the room.

There was 20 minutes until kick-off of the early game, so I walked to the convenience store a block away and loaded up with chips, dip and other snack foods. On the walk back to the motel, I noticed an auto repair shop across the street. I figured I'd take my car there tomorrow and find out what was wrong with it.

I guess it was the stress of driving, and lack of sleep, but I passed out at the start of the second half of the late game. When I woke, it was 9 o'clock the next morning.

I took some aspirin for my headache and guzzled two quarts of bottled water. Then, I drove my car to the auto shop. I left it with them and headed for a diner for breakfast. 

When I returned for my car they explained what was wrong with it and said it would cost $250 for the repairs. I'm not a handyman or repair-type-of-guy, so it was all Greek to me. 

"I'm starting work Tuesday at Flamingo, I can pay you when I get my first check," I said.

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Bring your car back here after you get paid," he replied."It'll run fine if there's no rain."

So I killed another night and the rest of the Jim Beam and headed into the Everglades Tuesday morning.

"...and your name again, is what?" asked the general manager of the resort.

I told him for the third time. He had no record of me being hired. I told him the home office in Virginia said I had a job.

"I just drove 2,600 miles and you're saying I don't have a job?" I asked. 

"No, no...we'll take you on..."

That was how my Everglades 'experience' began. He did hire me as a bartender, but it was soon obvious they didn't need me. I worked a 'service bar' in the dining room the size of a small closet. The tips were lousy and it looked like I'd never get a chance to work the main bar where the money was pretty good.

I had a room about a mile from the resort area, and because of my car problems, I walked back and forth to work. Now I'd thought we had mosquitoes where I came from, but they were nothing compared to Everglades mosquitoes. A week before I got there, a tourist went missing, and the joke was that the mosquitoes carried him away.

About a week later I got a roommate. He was kind of homely, and rather fat. We drank at the employee pub that night, and when we went to bed, he got up and climbed into my bed with me.

"How about we give each other hand-jobs?" he asked.

"ARE YOU CRAZY? GET OUT OF MY BED -- I'M NOT A FAGGOT!" I screamed at him.

I moved to another room the next day.

I met a guy named Chris, he was a dish washer, and hated his job, too. We ate our meals together and hung-out together after work. One day at lunch he showed me an ad from a newspaper. "Earn $1,200 in 2 weeks" read the headline. That caught my attention. To make a long story short, you live for two weeks at some sort of clinic where they do medical tests on you, and when you're done, they pay you $1,200. The clinic was in Miami. It didn't say what the tests were.

"You interested in this?" I asked him.

"John, we both hate our jobs and living here, and we're both too broke to leave. A $1,200 pay day would get us both back where we want to go!"

Medical tests? I was skeptical; he said he'd call the number and get more information.

A few days later after work we were at the pub.

"I called the number -- it sounds legit. They said they had openings for two more guys," he said. "We go in and take a physical then they assign us a room the same day." 

"Let's do it! It'll at least get us out of here!" I said.

We left for Miami the next day.

Neither of us had ever been to Miami, and we'd have to spend at least one night in a motel. I decided to drive straight to the beach. We'd never seen the Atlantic Ocean, either. 

We made it to Ocean Boulevard and it was obvious the hotels/motels were out of our price range. I kept driving north on Ocean Boulevard until it ended. We had to go into the city. 

We went under Interstate 95 and came to NW 79th Street. It was a pretty seedy area; lots of boarded up stores, and vacant lots. Chris spotted a motel sign advertising a price we could pay. I pulled the car into the driveway of the Daisy Chain Motel. We went inside. The desk clerk had a Middle Eastern appearance. His name tag read 'Ahmad'. He was hard to understand, but he said he had one room left, but it only had one bed. We said 'fine' and we paid for it.

The motel had about 25 separate little bungalows, and a swimming pool and hot tub. There was a diner that served liquor next to the office. The bed in the room was king-sized, big enough that sharing it wouldn't be a problem. We left our stuff in the room and went for dinner at the diner. We decided alcohol probably wouldn't be a good idea since we had to take physicals early the next morning.

Afterwards we sat at the pool. It was disappointing -- there were only guys at the pool. We went to bed early. 

We ate breakfast then set out for the clinic. We talked about what we'd do with the money. We found the clinic and they gave us physicals. The doctor came out and told Chris everything was good with him. Then he spoke to me.

"Let's see..." he studied his chart. "John, I'm sorry to tell you this, but we can't use you for the tests -- you have too much protein in your urine."

I was shocked! Huh? Protein in my urine?

"We have another round of tests starting in four weeks, and we can accept you for those. Come on back in four weeks. Thanks for coming today."

I think Chris saw my stunned expression because he offered to leave with me.

"No-no-no..." I said, and I watched as they led him to his room.

Back outside the Florida heat and humidity felt especially stifling.

What the hell am I going to do now? I wondered. I sat in the car a long time. Finally, I started it and drove back towards the Daisy Chain Motel. I remembered seeing a day labor company a block away. I'd go there the next day and find work.

I didn't have enough money to spend the night at the motel. I parked across the street next to a large, tree-filled park. I walked to a convenient store and bought a bag of chips and a Pepsi. I sat in the park the rest of the day.

It was dark outside. I planned on sleeping in the car so I went to the public men's room in the park to take a leak. There were two urinals and one was being used. I stood at the other one. The man looked at me closely before he left. 

What was that about? I asked myself.

When I went outside the man was standing there. He came up to me. My heart was pounding; I was afraid.

"I'll give you five bucks for a hand-job," he said matter-of-factly.

My response to him surprised me. "Make it ten!" I said. It was at that moment I realized I was capable of doing just about anything to survive. Desperate times calls for desperate measures!

"Fuck-off!" he said and walked away.

As I walked to my car I cursed myself for being greedy -- I should have agreed to the five dollars.

It began to rain. I sat in the car listening to the steady pelting of my car by the rain drops. The front seat of my car wasn't made for sleeping. When I finally managed to fall asleep, I was awakened by someone pounding on the window. It was a cop!

"What do you think you're doing? You can't sleep here!"

"Sorry about that," I said. 

The rain had stopped. I had to take a leak so I walked into the park to the men's room. In my groggy state, I thought it was about 2 or 3 in the morning. I looked at my watch -- 11 o'clock -- you gotta be kidding me! I still had all night to kill.

There was a man washing his hands when I entered the men's room. I did my business, aware that the man was watching me. He was still at the sink when I washed my hands. 

"Nice rain," he said. 

I wasn't sure how to play this; I didn't want to miss out on another opportunity. As I dried my hands I flashed him a broad smile.

"Yeah, looks like it might rain all night, and I don't have anywhere to go."

A smile formed on his lips. "Hungry?" he asked. I nodded. He pointed in the direction of the diner. "Eat?" he asked.

"Sure, that would be great," I said.

As we walked to the diner I sized him up. I'm 5'8" and he was shorter than me. Like the desk clerk, he sounded and appeared to be from a Middle Eastern country. It looked like he was going to buy me a meal, I wondered what else?

I sat in a booth and I figured he would sit across from me, but he slid in beside me -- close. He asked if I wanted a beer, and I said, "That sounds great!" I wondered if I came off sounding too eager.

We had two beers and he ordered us rib eye steaks. The food was delicious. Mid-way through the meal he took my hand and placed it on his crotch. His penis was hard. Or at least it felt like it. It was about 3 inches long and thick. It was the first penis other than my own I ever felt. I squeezed it. He smiled. I went to use that hand to cut my steak but he stopped me.

"Keep hand there!" he said. I put my hand back on his cock, and he cut up the rest of my steak for me. I slowly stroked it through his slacks for the rest of our meal. 

When we were leaving the diner he said, "We go to my car!"

I pointed to the motel and asked, "How about there?"

He frowned. I may have went a little too far. He might not have enough money for the motel. But then again, I didn't want to go to his car and give him a hand-job and be back out on the street afterwards.

I smiled at him. "If we had a room, I could get naked and we could stretch out on a big bed."

His eyes widened at the thought. He pulled out his wallet and gave me the exact amount for the room. 

I went inside alone. 'Ahmad' was behind the front desk again. "You back -- good!" he said in his broken English. 

He gave me two keys, and when I said we'd only need one he winked at me. I blushed. 

We found our bungalow and went inside. I didn't know what I was supposed to do in this situation. I decided to try and get it over with as quickly as possible. I stripped; he sat on the bed and watched me. When I was naked he had me stand before him and he ran his hands over my body. I turned around for him and he caressed my bottom-cheeks. Then he roughly tried to push a finger into my asshole. I jumped; he laughed.

He had me lie on the bed as he took off his clothes. He was short, overweight and hairy. His hard-on looked like a small block of wood. I sympathized with real hookers, I saw first-hand the kind of people they had to 'service'. This profession required a strong stomach, I thought.

He climbed on top of me and held my head still. He kissed me. It was the very first time I kissed another man. I had to fight my instinct to gag; his breath stunk of beer and onions. 

He kneeled on the bed and lifted my legs over my head. I was extremely aware of my exposed anus. He tried several times to get his cock inside me. He grunted and groaned but couldn't get his cock inside my asshole. I was relieved when he quit trying. 

He placed his knees on either side of my chest and positioned himself so his cock was inches from my face. I could plainly smell the aroma of his private parts. My arms were pinned to the bed under his weight. I had resigned myself to the fact that I might have to suck his cock. I opened my mouth. 

Instead, he stroked his cock himself. Every now and then he'd rub it on my face. He began breathing harder; his hand moved faster. Now, I of course, had never seen another man ejaculate before, and I thought it would be something different. Instead of semen forcefully shooting out of his cock, it dribbled out of his slit and onto my face. When he finished, he wiped his cock on a dry patch of my face and climbed off the bed. 

I didn't know what to expect next. I thought he'd probably rest then have another go at me. Instead, he got dressed and left. He never said a word, or even looked at me. 

Fine with me, I thought. I didn't get any money, but I had a good meal and a roof over my head.

I went to the bathroom and wiped my face with a towel. I took a leak then went back to bed and looked forward to a night of sound sleep. 

The phone on the nightstand next to the bed startled me at 2am. I had just drifted off to sleep when it rang.

"Police look for you -- you come to office -- you hide here!" I recognized Ahmad's voice.

"W-What? What is going—"

He cut me off. "Come here now!" He hung up.

Panic set in. Police? I remembered the cop who woke me up in my car. Oh my God -- what's going on? I hadn't brought anything in from the car so all I had to do was dress, and get the hell out of there.

When I walked into the motel office, a young black man was behind the front desk. I asked for Ahmad and he pressed a button on the counter. Ahmad immediately appeared from a door behind the counter. He rushed me to the side and buzzed the door to let me in. He led me through another door into a small apartment. He must live here, I thought.

He had me sit on the edge of the bed. He was on a love seat. 

My heart was racing and I began to sweat. He assured me everything would be alright now. The police wouldn't find me here.

"You sleep here," he said.

He said the police were shining flashlights into my car. He led me to the door again and went behind the front desk. Sure enough, I could see my car across the street and there was a police car parked behind it. We went back into his apartment.

He went to the small kitchen and returned with two cups of what smelled like tea.

He gave me a cup and I asked: "What's this?"

"Green tea -- you drink!"

It was good; just the right sweetness for my taste. We drank the tea in silence. Soon, all my panic, and nervousness disappeared. A sense of well-being and happiness washed through my body. I looked at Ahmad, he smiled at me and I smiled back.




Down and Out in Miami



He got up and took my empty cup to the kitchen sink. When he returned, he knelt down and removed my shoes and socks. I thought it was a wonderful thing for him to do. He sat beside me on the bed, and put his arm around my shoulder. I felt electric sparks. It felt sooo good!

He unbuttoned my shirt and removed it. When his hand ran over my chest and lightly pinched my nipples I swooned in delight. He smiled.

When he opened my pants and began to pull them and my underwear down, I lifted my hips to help him. I was naked. He sat down and held me close and we kissed. His hand stroked my thighs. Suddenly I got an erection and he took hold of it and slowly stroked it.

"OOOHHHHH GOD...." I cried out. It was the most incredible feeling!

He stood up and removed his clothes. I watched in amazement when his 6 inch hard penis sprang into view. It was beautiful! He sat beside me and took my hand and guided it to his hardness. He showed me what to do. It was thrilling. So hard yet so smooth and velvety to the touch. It felt alive in my hand. We masturbated each other. I loved kissing his hot lips. Our hands went faster. We both cried out when our cum boiled over and covered our hands and thighs. He kissed me hard and I sucked on his tongue. 

When our breathing returned to normal he held my hand and led me to the bathroom. We took a shower together. He did all the work. He soaped me up and rinsed me off. It was very erotic. Our cocks became hard again. I was pleasantly surprised.

He dried me off and I waited until he was dry, too. He led me to the bed. He lay on his back. He pointed between his legs and said, "Kneel!" I climbed between his legs. He took hold of his cock and pointed it at my face. "Kiss-kiss!" he said. I immediately began kissing his rigid member, up-and-down -- up-and-down.

I couldn't take it anymore; I wanted to taste his penis in my mouth. I closed my lips around his cockhead. He pulled it out of my mouth, grabbed me by the hair, and viciously slapped my face. Tears welled in my eyes. 

"KISS-KISS" he shouted. I was shocked, but I did what he said. I began to kiss it again.

"Tongue," he said and I began licking his cock. The slap to my face had sapped some of the joy I felt, but it was soon forgotten.

"Suck-suck," he finally said. "Use tongue!"

When I took his cockhead into my mouth my own penis trembled and throbbed. Sucking his cock was the most exhilarating moment of my life. My head bobbed up-and-down on his cock and we both moaned in pleasure. I lost my mind to the sucking. That hot, beautiful cock in my mouth drove me to a height of passion I'd never before experienced. Without being told, my one hand grasped the base of his cock and stroked it while my other hand fondled his balls.

I heard him yell: "SWALLOW!" and he filled my mouth with load-after-load of hot cum. It was difficult swallowing all of it, but I did my best. Afterwards, he pointed to a little puddle of cum on the sheet between his legs. "Eat it!" he said, and I did. He offered me his cock and said, "Clean it." I licked his penis clean.

I figured he would want to rest now, but he had a different idea. He raised his legs and pulled them apart exposing his anus to me. 

"Lick hole!" he ordered. I lowered my face to his asshole, and was going to lick it when something told me to stop. Maybe the affects of the green tea was wearing off, or I was just too repulsed to do this vile act, but I couldn't go through with it.

I felt him grab my hair again and he smacked me hard across the face. Tiny stars danced before my eyes.

He pointed to the wall beside the bed, and said, "Bring paddle!"

I saw a wooden paddle with 8 holes drilled in it hanging by a nail on the wall. There were some words engraved on the handle: "The Hickory Attitude Adjustor." I trembled with fear as I brought it to him.

"Lay down," he said as he pointed to his legs.

He wanted me across his lap -- he was going to spank me with the paddle. I tried to reason with him, "Ahmad, p-please don't do this -- W-What's going on here?"

"LAY DOWN!!"

I knew he was a lot stronger than me. If I fought him it could get much worse for me.

I lay across his lap. He brought the paddle down hard on my bottom-cheeks. IT HURT LIKE HELL!!

Over-and-over he paddled my bottom. The noise echoed throughout the room. It was humiliating and very painful. The flesh of my bottom-cheeks began to burn. I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. I cried like a school girl.

He opened his legs and I fell to the floor. He pulled his legs in the air and shouted: "LICK HOLE!!" I immediately buried my face in his flesh and licked his asshole.

"Lips and tongue," he said, and I did my best to please him. Then he said, "Tongue-fuck hole."

I curled my tongue so it could enter his asshole. I pushed my tongue as far into his rectum as it would go. My face was flat against his butt; I had trouble breathing. I held onto his cheeks and tongue-fucked his asshole for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he pushed me away and I fell to the floor. When I looked I saw his cock was hard again.

He opened a drawer on his bedside table and pulled out a tube of something.

"Stand up -- bend over!" he ordered. I knew what was coming next. I shivered with fear and anticipation.

He was impatient and pushed me into the position he wanted. My head and shoulders flat on the bed with my bottom raised high in the air. He kicked my legs until I spread them apart as wide as they would go. 

"Use hands -- pull apart cheeks!" 

I reached back with my hands and opened my bottom-cheeks for him. I winced in pain when my hands touched my bruised flesh. It amazed me that I was helping him rape my virgin bottom-hole. I didn't want him to use the paddle on me again.

I felt a cool liquid applied to my hole. He used his finger and worked it around my hole. He squirted more of the cream on his finger. I gasped when his finger entered my anus. My sphincter instinctively tightened -- he slapped my bottom; I yelped in pain and relaxed my hole.

His finger went deeper inside me. "Tight pussy!" I heard him exclaim. He pulled his finger out of me.

I felt the head of his cock at my entrance. I closed my eyes and waited. His strong hands gripped my hips. In one smooth motion, he pulled my hips backwards as he thrust his hard cock forward and into my hole. He relentlessly pushed into me until I'd taken his whole cock. I gasped for air; I fought to keep my sphincter open to him.

He waited a few seconds; he flexed his cock and it expanded inside me. I groaned; he laughed. Then he began a steady in-out rhythm. My own cock betrayed me and became hard. He reached for my cock and stroked it as he fucked me in the ass. The pain of his assault disappeared. It began to feel good. I moaned a deep, guttural moan of pleasure. I pushed my hips back at him. I wanted to be impaled on his beautiful cock. 

He laughed. "You like fuck-fuck!" he said proudly.

I felt embarrassed and ashamed: I did like fuck-fuck. I loved the feel of his cock in my asshole. We had a perfect rhythm. I met each of his thrusts with a backward push of my hips. His cock sawed in-and-out of my hole. He fucked me harder-and-harder. His hand stroked my cock faster-and-faster. 

"I'M CUMMING—I'M CUMMING—I'M CUMMING...." I shouted as my cum sprayed in the air. 

I felt his burning jizz fill my rectum. He grunted and groaned and thrashed about wildly. My asshole milked his cock dry. We both were panting and gasping for breath. 

He pulled out of me and I felt his cum ooze out of my hole and down my legs. He led me to the bathroom; I sat on the toilet seat; he handed me a warm washcloth and told me to clean his cock. I wiped his penis clean. He made me wait on the seat until I wiped the last of his cum from my hole. 

Back in the small apartment he dressed. I waited for him to give me my clothes. The 'green tea' had worn off and I had a slight headache. I asked him for my clothes.

"No need clothes -- you stay here!" he announced. "Go sleep," he said as he pointed to the bed. 

I was scared. What was he going to do with me? He was in control. I looked around the room and didn't even see my clothes. My heart was heavy as I crawled under the covers. I couldn't lie on my back -- my bottom hurt too much. I was exhausted. I fell asleep right away.

Later, he pushed me awake. "Food," he said. He pointed to the kitchen table. I asked him for my clothes again. His eyes narrowed; he grabbed my hair with one hand and gave me a ferocious slap to the face with the other. It brought tears to my eyes.

"NO QUESTIONS," he screamed at me. 

He sat at the table and began eating. I slowly and fearfully approached the table acutely aware of my nudity. I tried sitting, but groaned in pain and ate standing up. 

He laughed and looked at me and said, "Your fault!" and he resumed eating.

The food was good: sausage, eggs, hash browns and toast. I guessed it came from the diner. 

After breakfast he led me to the bathroom. He said, "Fill tub -- you take bath!"

I started the water. He showed me a bottle of bubble bath and measured out a capful and added it to the water. Once the water reached a certain level he told me to get in then he said: "Stay here til I say." He left the room.

The water helped ease the pain from my bottom. Sitting amidst the bubbles was actually quite soothing. I washed my hair and body and lay back waiting for him. 

I wondered why I wasn't more frightened by my situation. After all, I was basically a prisoner here. Hell, even a prisoner gets clothes to wear. He has my clothes, my I.D., my wallet, my car keys, everything. He doesn't hesitate to inflict pain. I thought a more apt description was 'slave', not prisoner. 

Not that my life at the moment amounted to much anyway. No job, no money, no place to stay, and a car that broke down whenever it rained. Here at least, I was fed and had a comfortable bed with a roof over my head. I just wanted to know why Ahmad was doing these things to me. I really didn't have anywhere else I wanted to go to anyway.

Ahmad came back. "Get out," he motioned for me to get out of the tub. He gave me a towel and I dried myself. He led me near the bed then put his arms around me and kissed me on the lips. He ran his forefinger back and forth across my lips.

"Suck-suck," he whispered to me. 

I dropped to my knees, opened his pants and took out his semi-erect cock. I worked hard at giving him pleasure. I sucked the glans and ran my tongue all over his cockhead. I remembered everything he taught me earlier. I caressed his balls with my right hand while I stroked his stiff cock with the other. Soon I had him moaning. He held my head and fucked my face. I tasted his pre-cum on my tongue. He made a noise deep in his throat and filled my mouth with his creamy spunk. This time I was able to swallow it all. I licked his penis clean and replaced it inside his trousers.

He patted my head and smiled. "You like suck-suck," he said as he pointed to my erect member bobbing in front of me. I blushed.

"Stay on knees -- you suck-suck Dewayne!" he said then left the room.

The young black guy from behind the front desk came into the room. He seemed shy. He stood a few feet from where I was kneeling. I went to him on my knees. I tried to open his pants, but he stopped me with his hands.

I looked him in the eyes. "Please, I have to do this or Ahmad will spank me."

He took his hands away. His cock was bigger than Ahmad's. It was the first black cock I'd ever seen. I think I gave him the best blow-job he'd ever had. By the time he came in my mouth he was groaning and shaking his hips. He smiled and thanked me over and over. He said, "I'll see you tonight!" then left the room.

I was absentmindedly playing with my hard cock when Ahmad re-entered the room. "No touch—no touch! I make you cum -- not now!" 

I quickly took my hand away from my throbbing penis.

I lost track of time. Ahmad said he had my car towed and it was being fixed and he would pay for it. In the meantime, I was a busy boy. I serviced Dewayne before he started work, and after he was off. Ahmad was in and out of the room all day. He was insatiable. One time I was on my knees sucking him when a guest rang the buzzer for help. He pulled his cock out of my mouth; told me to "Stay!"; closed his robe and waited on the guest then came back with his cock still hard and I finished him off.

My favorite time of day though was when Dewayne went to work, and Ahmad was off duty. He would make us 'green tea' and he would fuck me silly. He would only let me cum when he was fucking me in the ass. He always made me beg him to fuck me. 

One day he came to me and said, "You earned clothes." He gave me a pair of women's underwear and told me to wear them.

"B-But they're—" he cut me off.

"You girly-boy—you wear panties!"

I knew better than to argue so I put them on. They felt great against my penis; sleek and smooth, but they were diaphanous and didn't hide anything. I guess it was still better than being naked.

One morning before he gave me 'green tea' he said I would start work tomorrow.

I didn't know what he meant. "Work?" I asked. "Behind the front desk?"

"No-no—you prostitute—you service truckers!"

It was like another slap on the face. He was going to pimp me out to truckers! So that was the reason for all of this.

He explained the motel had a large truck parking area and caught a lot of business from I-95. He said we might as well cash in on this, too. 

He saw the expression on my face. "I pay you -- we partners -- you like suck-suck -- you like fuck-fuck -- now you make money!"

He was right. He had turned me into a cum-slut, and I was loving it.

"Here? Here in the apartment?" I asked. 

"No-no -- you work there," he said, pointing at the door in the corner of the apartment. "Come -- I show you."

I always wondered what was behind that door. He unlocked it and showed me: a small room with a love seat and a king-sized bed. Mirrors covered the walls. There was even a mirror on the ceiling. The sheets were satin. There was another door where I guessed the 'customer' would enter.

"You work here! You love it -- we make money!"

Suddenly, everything felt different. I was no longer his helpless prisoner or slave -- I was his business partner! It didn't feel right.

"I don't know about this," I said.

He frowned; his eyes narrowed. My heart leapt into my throat.

He was quick as a cat! He twisted my arm behind my back; I thought he was going to break it. He forced me back into the apartment and pushed me towards the bed. He twisted my arm with one hand and grabbed the paddle off the wall. He sat on the bed and forced me to lie over his legs. He pushed my panties down to my knees and then paddled my bottom like a madman. I had been crying a long time before he stopped the spanking.

He pushed the panties off me completely, and told me to stand. He positioned me with my back to him. My blistered bottom was inches from his turgid cock. He put his arm around my waist to hold me still. Then he guided his cock to my un-lubricated asshole. He placed his cockhead at my anus, and pulled me down on top of him. He rammed his cock all the way inside me with one brutal lunge. I screamed -- he stuffed the panties in my mouth to muffle my shouts of agony. He forced me up-and-down on his cock. He pinched my nipples hard; pulling at them. I screamed into the panties. My hole was on fire. My body went limp; I sobbed uncontrollably. He fucked me like a rag doll. The pain was unbearable; I prayed he would cum soon. Then I felt his hot semen filling my asshole. His cock exploded like Vesuvius; eruption-after-eruption. His burning lava scalded the walls of my rectum. He pushed me to the floor. He grabbed me by the ears and pulled me to my knees. 

"Clean cock!" he ordered. The taste of his cum intermingled with my waste matter and tears.

When I had cleaned him he slapped me hard across the face -- I fell backwards.

He stood and glared down at me. "NEVER FORGET -- YOU MY BITCH!!" He stormed out of the room.

I crawled to the bathroom and ran water for a bath. I eased my scorched bottom into the hot water and lay there quietly sobbing.

"WAKE UP!" He shook me. I had fallen asleep in the tub.

"Here -- drink green tea!"

Gladly, I thought. I drank it as fast as I could without burning my mouth. I sat and waited. Soon, my mind was lost in a euphoric cloud. The world was beautiful again.

"Get out -- dry yourself!"

I slowly rose and reached for a towel -- all the while smiling at him. He took me naked into the 'work room'. He had a camera. He posed me on the bed in sexy and obscene positions and took photo after photo. I was smiling in every shot. He told me to masturbate. I was happy to oblige -- the green tea always gave me a hard-on. He captured every moment on film. The photos even showed fine strands of my cum in mid-air when my cock exploded. 

He helped me off the bed. He was gentle again. He led me to our bed in the apartment and told me to lie down. I fell asleep immediately.

The next day he dressed me in black lace panties to hide the purple bruises. The lace cut into my flesh and it hurt, but I didn't say a word. 

My first day 'on the job': I serviced fourteen cocks with my hands and mouth in the 'work-room'. I swallowed every drop except for three guys who wanted to cum on my face. I was proud of the way I performed.

We ate dinner: Steak, baked potatoes, salad and rolls. He told me a few of the truckers had wanted to fuck me in the ass, but he wanted to wait a few days to let me heal. 

He told me what he expected from me. He would show the men the photos he took of me. If they wanted to see me in person, before paying, he would ring the buzzer and I was to come out and pose for them. If not, like today, he would call our phone and tell me what they wanted, and I would go directly to the work-room. I told him I understood. 

He then said he was thinking about a 'delivery service'. I asked what that meant and he said he would walk me to their room and when they were finished with me, he would come and get me. "Oh," I said. 

I didn't like that idea, but I didn't say a word.

One day I wore pink diaphanous panties. He sat on the bed and said: "Walk like girl!"

I didn't know what he wanted. He showed me -- it was funny. So I walked, with hands on my hips, and wiggled my butt. He made me practice over and over until he liked what he saw. 

He came to me with a robe. "Wear this," he said.

Before I tied the belt around me he kissed me and fondled my penis through my panties. I became hard almost immediately. 

He had me put on sandals and he took me outside. It was the first time in weeks I saw sunshine. We went to the pool. There were 10-12 truckers around the pool. He took my robe off and said: "Do girl-walk," he motioned for me to walk around the pool.

I was too stunned to be embarrassed. I did my girl-walk around the pool, my stiff cock pushing against the material of my pink panties. The truckers loved it! They whistled and applauded as I wiggled my butt for their amusement.

When I arrived where Ahmad was standing, he called out to the men: "Fresh boy -- almost virgin!" The truckers hooted and howled with laughter.

That did embarrass me and I blushed.

The days and weeks went by. I became something of an expert on hard cocks. They certainly came in all shapes and sizes, and more than a few guys couldn't achieve full erections: those were the worst; I had to work twice as much to make them cum. I satisfied cocks ranging from three inches to ten inches long, but I'd have to say the majority of cocks were between five and six inches. 

The girl-walk around the pool became a regular routine. It brought a lot of business. I even learned to enjoy shaking my hard cock and wiggling my bottom while the men shouted rude and crude remarks.




Down and Out in Miami



I was amazed at the number of men who wanted to play with my cock. I did quite a few 69's, and came in their mouths as they came in mine. I guess the men felt safe exposing their dirty little secrets in the privacy of the 'work-room'. 

Ahmad had expanded our clientele. During the day, I serviced men wearing business suits -- sometimes they were the worst. Some of them were far more arrogant than the truckers. Some of them intentionally made me feel like a whore.

I obeyed Ahmad and kept him satisfied. I learned that my clothes and wallet and other stuff were locked in the safe. He never mentioned when I could leave, and I never asked.

One night after dinner he had me drink the green tea. When the desired affects took hold of me, he took my panties off, and had me put on a robe and slippers. He walked me to one of the bungalows. When the man answered the door, Ahmad pushed me inside. He took my robe and slippers and disappeared. I was naked in the room with six men. Even in my euphoric state of mind it was a harrowing ordeal.

I noticed an open bottle of Viagra on a table and became worried. For the next five hours the six men took turns at my mouth and bottom. Most of the time I was getting double-fucked: my mouth and bottom at the same time. They never washed their cocks after they fucked me so I had the foulest taste in my mouth when I sucked them. I didn't count the number of times they came in my mouth, but after awhile, their semen upset my stomach. My asshole felt raw and torn. My legs were coated with their cum. The heavy stench of semen in the air made it hard to breathe. 

When it was finally over, Ahmad came and took me home. He saw the condition of the room and me. The bath had already been drawn and I lay in it until the water turned cold. There was a steak waiting for me on the kitchen table and I devoured it. Then he helped me to bed. All the while he mumbled, "No more delivery -- no more delivery!"

The next three days Ahmad arranged for me to use only my mouth on the truckers' cocks. There was too much business to not work at all. I did my usual professional job. With Ahmad, I would suck-suck while he masturbated me. His hands were very good. I could tell he was emotionally attached to me; his tenderness and caring made me happy.

The next day after work, Ahmad brought me green tea. He had a twinkle in his eye as I drank it; it had been a long time for him since we did fuck-fuck. I was looking forward to it, too. I had my best orgasms when he fucked me. We were naked on the bed, caressing and stroking each other, waiting for the tea to work its magic.

Suddenly, we heard a commotion coming from the front desk. Ahmad threw on his robe, but before he could get to the door two men burst into our apartment. One of them was the biggest man I'd ever seen: maybe 6'8" and 350 pounds of all muscle; the other man wore an expensive suit. He looked very distinguished. Both had the same swarthy complexions as Ahmad.

Ahmad tried to run past them through the open door. The big man grabbed Ahmad by the hair and punched him hard in the belly. Ahmad collapsed to the floor gasping for air.

The older gentleman closed the door and sat next to me on the bed. He studied my nudity and smiled approvingly. By this time the green tea was working. I smiled at him. He saw the empty cup on the table.

"Did you drink his famous green tea?" he asked softly. 

I nodded with a broad smile on my face. The man stroked my thighs and my penis instantly straightened. He chuckled. I liked him; he had a nice smile and a handsome face.

He reached into his suit coat and took out a small bottle. "Abdul, would you like some fun today?" he asked the big man. Abdul smiled and nodded when he saw the bottle. The gentleman gave Abdul two blue pills. Abdul swallowed them without water. 

Both of them began to undress. Abdul's body was something to marvel. Not an ounce of fat. I gasped when I saw his cock begin to rise. He stroked it and his cock grew and grew. I guessed it to be twelve inches long, and four inches thick. Incredible! 

Ahmad had regained his senses. He tried to get up but Abdul grabbed his hair and slapped Ahmad so hard on the face he fell backwards. Abdul pulled Ahmad by his hair. He pulled him into the work-room. I was suddenly worried for Ahmad. Abduls' cock could split him in two!

The handsome man was now naked and lay beside me stroking my face and chest; he kissed me, his kiss took my breath away.

"My name is Mufalah -- my little koos-koos, you will address me as 'Master'!"

He rolled on top of me and I put my arms around his broad shoulders. His hot kisses made my cock throb. My heart pounded faster and faster with joy and excitement.

"Ooohhh, Master!" I exclaimed. I'd never felt so safe and secure in my life. 

He smiled down at me. "Are you ready to perform for your Master?"

"OOOHHHHH, YES MASTER -- YES!"

He made me do everything for him, and I was eager to obey.

Ahmad's screams were audible from the work-room, but we were too engrossed in our lovemaking to hear them.

Sometime later, I learned Ahmad worked for Master -- Master owned the motel. Ahmad had concocted a scheme to blackmail prominent Miami businessmen with sex tapes from the work-room. Master didn't approve. He knew those businessmen and they came to him and complained. Ahmad was being taught a lesson.

Once I had fully satisfied Master, we showered together. I soaped his entire body with loving hands. I rinsed him off and he reached for a towel.

"Now you may clean yourself," he said.

"Yes, Master!"

"Where are your belongings?" he asked.

"In the safe behind the front desk, Master."

When I returned to the living area I saw my clothes and reached for them. He pushed my hand away.

"You won't need clothes!" he said. "You belong to me now -- wear this robe!"

"Yes, Master!" I was excited and thrilled.

Low, barely audible groans came from the work-room. Ahmad was in obvious agony.

Abdul was dressed. We were leaving. Master had a black limousine -- Abdul opened the back door and Master waved me in first.

Once inside he had me remove my robe. I sat naked on the luxurious leather seat. We sat close together. He put his arm around my shoulders. Abdul started the car and drove off.

About five minutes into the ride, Master kissed me. My penis sprung to attention. He laughed. He looked at my face in earnest.

"My little koos-koos, if you disobey me in any way -- I will have Abdul fuck you -- you will not like that at all!"

"I-I will obey you, Master!"

He ran his forefinger across my lips. He smiled at me. I smiled at him and fell to my knees between his legs and opened his slacks. 

It had been a long, long time since I felt this happy.



Down and Out



"Enjoy me," she breathed into his ear as she felt him swoop down and kiss her mouth passionately, his facial hair tickling her cheek as she did so. His tongue invaded her mouth again and she invaded his in turn, their image reflecting strangely off the mirrored closet doors.

She kept her eyes open and could see this strange image; young versus old, filthy versus clean and rich versus poor, as she felt herself fast approaching another body shattering orgasm. Just as she did, he too released, sending a cavalcade of hot sticky semen jettisoning up inside her womb. The timing could not have been more ideal or more inopportune either, for while Leslie did not necessarily want to be the mother of this transient's child, it heightened the danger, the suspense, the thrill she had been missing for so long.

Now as she stood in the shadows of the vacant warehouse listening to the transient she had copulated with re-tell their steamy story, Leslie could not believe what had transpired in her own townhouse. What pleasures she had allowed such a vile man, and could remember vividly how his breath smelled so disgusting, like that of stale cigarettes and cheap wine, while his body smelled of that of sweat, pungent unkempt sweat. She hated herself for what she had done, knowing full well her parents would disown her, her Fiancée breaking the marriage off for such a despicable act, and yet as Leslie remembered, she also grew damp in her crotch, yearning to be taken by a man that was wrong in every way. She masturbated to the memory now, and in the past week up to three times a day. She even was remembering it as she copulated one night with her very own fiancée. There was no reason for it, her fiancée was good in bed, and that was just the problem, everything about the man was good. Her whole life had been good. Now she needed something different, something wrong and she knew just where to find it. She withdrew her finger from off her sex, and began to step forward from the shadows.

Hearing the sounds of Leslie's heels echoing through the alleyway, they both looked up in time to see her step from the shadows and allow the bright lights of the railroad yard to illuminate her body. She struck a pose, one with her hands on her hips and looked the bum straight in the eye with a wanton smile.

"Would you like me to cook you another dinner?"