14 comments/ 60179 views/ 14 favorites Mystery Meat By: theravenfox This is my entry into Literotica's 2015 (First Annual) April Fool's Contest. This audio is supposed to be funny and entertaining, so please listen with an open mind. Don't forget to vote! Wednesday night...9pm. Time for some fun at my favorite glory hole. All I want to do is suck some strange and get myself off. * * * * * Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (20 min/mp3) * * * * * Mystery Meat Marriage (Please note: This is a fictional story. The legal aspects DO NOT reflect real life.) I ate the food that was before me. It was some crappy mystery meat stew. It tasted bland but it filled the hole in my stomach. There was another hole inside me that could not be filled. I realised that my marriage had been a Mystery Meat Marriage. I realised that my marriage had not been made of what I thought it had been. That at the heart of it had been something inedible. A real chunk of mystery meat, if ever there was one. I stood up, took my tray to the disposal point and left it. I left the dining hall and walked out into the courtyard. It might have been the dining hall and the courtyard back in medical school. Except when I glanced up I saw the guard towers and it came back to me that I was in prison. How had I, Doctor Wallace Greenslade, ended up in prison? It was the fault of my wife. My loving, faithful (I had thought) wife, Debrah Greenslade, nee Porter. Ours was a typical love story. We had met in medical school. I was just over 6 foot and an average kind of a guy, average good looks with sandy hair, average cock size, average student, averagely popular. Debrah was five and a half feet tall, had strawberry blonde hair, was of a build that was on the gorgeous side of chunky. It was love or lust at first sight. For me, certainly and I think for her, also. We decided to share an apartment and pooled our resources. We were good lovers, we fitted together well. Hey! That's not what I mean! Well, on second thoughts, yes, that too. We were very sexually compatible. We got married in the Fall of 1990 and we qualified as Doctors being fairly close in our final scores in 1991. Which were, of course, average. Which we did without cheating. Well, would you want to be treated by a Doctor who had got their medical degree by cheating? No, me neither! After all, we all know the old joke, what do you call the medical student who passes with the lowest marks of his or her class? Yes, that's right! Doctor! A sobering thought. But I digress. After several years of doctoring in New York State (we both worked as locums) we were looking for something else. Something with a future career for both of us, working together. Something more permanent. We saw an advert in a specialist medical journal for a medical practice in the Mid West. They needed two more Doctors, unusually, with hospital experience, to join a husband and wife partnership. We arranged to spend a weekend visiting with them and had planned to hire a car from the airport, but they told us not to bother, they would pick us up and squire us for the weekend, showing us the sights and the sites of their town. Mandy and Victor Marsh were a handsome couple, about ten years older than us, but there was something edgy about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Not a bad boy, but certainly not quite all that good, I felt. And did it turn out I was right! But I'm getting ahead of myself. Over dinner that evening at their modestly sized town's best restaurant, they explained that their life story was pretty much like ours. They'd met in medical school but unlike us, they had married just after graduation. They had both been left modest legacies and had used their joint resources to buy a run-down practice in need of desperate TLC. The doctor who had ran it had gone off the rails when his wife had left him with his best friend. He'd taken to drinking and one day a patient had wandered in to his office from the waiting room and had found him dead at his desk. He'd put a bullet from a .45 through his temple. Death had been instantaneous, thankfully. His estate sold the building as a medical office and the Doctors Marsh were able to not only buy it outright they were able to do some remodelling. Well who the hell would want to work in an office where someone had offed themselves? Or seek medical treatment in such a room, for that matter? After a couple of years they realised that the office was getting more patients than they could look after and they realised they would need to double the amount of doctors to keep up with the demand for medical services in the town. They had several advantages, they were both extremely good doctors, getting a large number of referrals from satisfied patients and they were one of only two doctor's offices in a 100 mile radius. When we finished the meal we went back to their medical center and continued our talk, which was aided by several pots of coffee. We were to be taken on by the center and, after regular evaluations, there was the very real possibility that we would be taken on as full partners. They presented us with a contract and insisted that we go back home and show the contracts to our lawyer, which we did. She gave us the all clear on the contract, so we signed it and were confirmed as being employed by the medical center and set about leaving behind our East Coast lives for our new Mid West lives. We gave notice on our apartment cancelled all services and changed banks, as our current bank did not have any branches out in the Mid West. We hired a removal van to bring the stuff we couldn't bare to part with. There wasn't much, to be honest. Mandy and Vic had booked us rooms at one of the two hotels in the town and they helped set up a meeting with a realtor to sort out accommodation for us. We looked at several apartments but realised that we could, at the local prices, afford to buy a house and, as luck had it, one was available for purchase in the same cul de sac as Mandy and Vic lived in. The town had a small community hospital and in order to save money, when it was designed and built some 45 years previously it was decided that the two doctor's offices in the area would provide over at the hospital. It was actually quite interesting, though the equipment there was a little out-dated. Not dangerously old, just as I say, a little out-dated. Four days in the week, the two doctor's offices would provide one doctor who would work at the hospital doing wellness clinics for men, woman, kids and seniors, pregnancy reviews, blood work, general surgery and the like. It was a philanthropic matter. Not, I hasten to add, philanthropy by the doctors. Rather it was the philanthropy of the Carter family who had had the hospital built 45 years ago. They had deep pockets so didn't mind funding the two doctor's offices to provide medical cover at the hospital. To be honest, I rather enjoyed it at times, getting to wear a white coat and a stethoscope round my neck. Just like the old times when I'd done my residency! The one thing that irritated me a tad was that the Carters had been founder members of the NRA and were really keen on the freedom to bear arms. As far as they were concerned if you didn't bear arms, there was something wrong with you! As a result, all doctors at the regular hospital sessions had to bear arms on their way to and from the hospital. And the Carter Foundation took care of the necessary Carry permits. I could see no reason for this and I tried to resist, but I was shown the relevant section in the deeds of covenant and I gritted my teeth and when asked what gun I'd like to carry (ironic that I had no choice in whether or not I wanted to bear arms, but did get to chose which type of gun I could carry!). After some thought and chatting with the local gun shop owner, I decided that I would carry a Walther TPH .25mm pistol. After a few sessions on the range behind the gun shop I became reasonably proficient, and learned all about the gun's nasty 'bite' -just Google Walther bite- but I digress... The deal had turned out well for the patients of the doctor's offices, too. We could arrange their elective surgery and then carry out the surgery ourselves, if we were experienced and board certified. Getting myself board certified in general surgery was one of the first things I took care of when I moved to the Mid West. This meant that I was often called in to cover shifts for the other doctors who either were not board certified in general surgery, or whose specialities and board certification were not relevant for the job in hand. After all, as good as an eye surgeon is at whipping a cataract out and whipping a replacement corrective lens in, he -or she- would not be any good with taking out an appendix. So this was why I often had to cover not only my shifts but also those of my wife and my good friend Doctor Vic. Yes, my good friend Doctor Vic. After we broke bread a number of times, I figured I had misread Vic and that he was, as my wife put it, an OK kind of a guy, once you got to know him. I liked Mandy Marsh, we got on together really well and although she was notionally cute, there was no spark between us. Which was just as well, as I had no intention of cheating on Debrah as I loved her too much for that. We'd known a couple at med school, Dean and Nancy Ross, I seemed to recall, who were married. They started going to some wild swinger type parties and although they both seemed pretty cool with it, it ended up with a big mess, with Dean getting badly beaten up by noe of Nancy's lovers, it was suspected. Though the police never did discover who had done this. Though we heard they had a good idea which of Nancy's lovers had done the deed, but lacked conclusive proof. They split up, got divorced and neither of them completed their course at our med school. Debrah and I had talked about it with our med school buddies and we all agreed that swinging could only mean trouble. In our Mid West lives, we would sometimes go out on the town together, casual western gear for the barn and line dancing at the Silver Saddle or smart casual for the more upmarket County Club. Believe it or not it was called the County Club in honour of it's founder and first owner (long gone to his great reward) George County. After four years of this happy lifestyle I noticed that our sex life had started to slow down. Only to be expected, right? If only it were that simple. I discovered the dirty truth one day in the summertime. I had somehow gotten to do a Monday shift at the hospital. It should, be rights have been Vic's turn, but he had phoned me claiming that he had a migraine that had messed with the vision on his right eye. "And that's the last thing those patients would want! A doctor with a scintillating scotoma obscuring the vision on his right eye trying to operate on them!" I commiserated with him. I told my wife what had happened. "Oh, poor Vic! I have a uncle who suffers from migraines. Never gets any of the visual stuff, though. Just the pain and the nausea. Still, I expect Mandy will tend to him. One of the advantages of being married to a doctor! Oh, I just remembered, Mandy is out of town, this afternoon." I told her "Well, if it gets too bad, maybe you could treat him?" I thought I saw a flash of something in her eyes, but I wasn't sure. I wonder if I am seeing things with the benefit of hindsight? Wonderful stuff, hindsight... I kissed her goodbye, grabbed my doctor's bag (which had a side pocket to house my .25 pistol) and headed to the hospital. It was a pretty routine day, with run-of-the-mill general surgical operations to be dealt with. The anaesthetist was one of the doctors from the other doctor's office, Pat Lang. She was a no nonsense woman in her late 40s who smoked and swore like a sailor. She hadn't aged particularly well, though she was still sexy with her short pixy style haircut and her, well, what could one say? Rugged good looks? She was single, though she still dated a good deal. At 2pm there was an amusing incident that actually caused a lot of heartache, in the long run. The Doctor who was following on from me was a tall, lanky fellow by the name of Lee Parings. He and his wife are a wonderful couple and though she's a great nurse and he is a great doctor, they have a reputation for being a bit klutzy. This was why he arrived at the hospital to start his shift two hours early. They'd spent their two week vacation in California. Due to a problem with a plane with an engine fault, their flight from San Francisco was a day late, so they arrived home on the day Lee was supposed to be at work and not, as they'd planned, the day before. California is two hours behind us. And when they were flying back it looks like Lee had accidentally set his watch forward by four hours, not two! Which was why he had turned up at the hospital two hours early. We laughed about it and he said: "Well, tell you what. I'll start work now, two hours early. And you can leave two hours early!" "I owe you one, buddy!" I said to him. "Don't be so silly!" he said, grinning. "Just pay it forward. Do someone else a favour, some day." And that was how come I arrived home two hours early and found my marriage to be over. I walked up to the master bedroom. We kept our doctor's bags in a locked cabinet in the bottom of our more than capacious built-in wardrobe. Why locked up? We kept some drugs in our bags. Plus I had the .25 to put away. I opened the bedroom door just in time to see Vic, naked, clambering off my wife. His cock was erect and looked wet, and I glanced towards my wife who was on the bed, also naked. Naked. But not for me. And on our marital bed, too. Her legs were open wide and I could see his sperm leaking from her cunt. Yes. It was her cunt. Ladies and female patients had vaginas. My wife was a cunt. Had a cunt, I mean. Oh, well, let it pass. My wife looked startled and ashamed. Vic made a mistake that nearly cost him his life. He smirked. But neither of them said anything. I knew what I would do. What I had to do. I placed my doctor's bag on the bedroom floor, grabbed the .25 TPH pistol out of the bag's side pocket. I aimed the gun at them. Debrah said: "No! Please, Wally! It's not what you think!" I released the safety and fired one shot at Vic. Fuck. I am a doctor. And I just shot a man. That guff about doctors signing the Hippocratic oath? A load of baloney. But we are supposed to be healers. And I had shot a man. A friend. Well, a former friend. Who had been fucking the woman who used to by my wife. Used to be? Yes. I knew in an instant that my marriage was over. Vic shrieked with pain as his hand went down to his groin. "You shot me!" Debrah shrieked out: "Please! Wally! Please don't kill us!" I looked at her. I shook my head. "You are a doctor. Your lover is wounded. Treat him. And then call 911. I'll be waiting for the police on the lawn. I'll empty my gun before they arrive. Don't want any accidents, now do we?" I don't know what, if anything, Debrah said. I didn't give enough of a shit to listen to it. I made sure the bullet in the chamber was ejected and took the cartridge out and left them on the dresser. I took the gun with me and placed it on the hood of my car and sat down on the lawn, awaiting the police. Within two minutes an ambulance and a Sheriff's car arrived. Sheriff Floyd Patterson stepped out. His gun wasn't drawn but from his demeanour it was obvious he could have it in his hands in seconds. He was a stocky man with sandy hair, widowed a few years now, having lost his wife to cancer. "What's going on, Doc? He asked me, a concerned expression on his face. "Just got word someone got shot, here. Accidentally, of course? I looked up at him. "Sorry, Floyd, not an accident. I caught Vic screwing my wife, so I shot him." A look of pain creased his face. "How is he? Alive?" I turned to the ambulance crew: "Don't worry, guys! Just go straight on up. Master bedroom's just on the right of the stairs. My wife's working on the piece of shit now. She's a doctor, the same as him." I turned back to the Floyd. "Floyd, the gun is on the hood of the car over there and the bullets are on the dresser in the bedroom. And yes, Vic is alive. I just shot him in his guts. Only a .25 bullet, so he'll probably live. Though he doesn't deserve that." "Come on, Doc. Just stand up, I'll read your your rights and though it doesn't seem right, I'll have to cuff you." "Floyd, you are a good man, just doing your duty. Always knew there must be a reason why it's a rare day when people stand against you for election as sheriff. Now I know." As he cuffed me, he was blushing from my sincere praise. He was also tearing up a little. After he read me my rights and gently pushed my head down as I got into the rear of his sheriff's car he said: "Damn it all to Hell! Doc, you are a better man than me! If I'd caught my Mabel, God rest her sainted soul!, in bed with another man, I think I'd have shot the both of them! Dead! And with a fucking .45!" I was booked in at the sheriff's office which was an extension to the town's civic buildings, which consisted of the town hall, the library and the combined volunteer ambulance and fire station and the sheriff's office. I was processed (valuables, belt, shoe laces etc, put into a locker and I was placed in one of the holding cells at the rear of the building. Floyd himself had overseen my booking process. "Doc, I am so sorry to have to be doing this to you. It gives me no pleasure at all. No sir!" "It's not your fault, Floyd. I did a bad thing, and you had your duty to do. I shouldn't have shot him." Later that day my wife came to make bail for me. I declined bail. I declined to see her, too. One of the deputy sheriffs, a younger woman with a uniform just a shade to tight for her, but which looked good on her, was speaking to me. "You don't want bail? You don't want to see your wife? Why?" "I caught my wife and her lover in bed together. And I shot him. I no longer consider I have a home to be bailed out to and I no longer have a wife. As far as I see it, she's Vic's concern now, nothing to do with me, now." She tried a different tack. "But if you don't get bail, you can't stay here. You'll be sent to the county jail probably tomorrow or the day after." I shrugged. "I am going to end up in jail for what I did in any case. Might as well start now, and get used to the idea." That evening, Floyd came back to see me. "You'll need some food, Doc. We don't cook here for prisoners no more. We ain't got the facilities. But we can get you something from the town hall canteen during the day, or whatever fast food we can rustle up." I looked at him and shook my head. "That's real kind of you, Floyd. But I'm not hungry." He looked at me, hard: "You ain't on hunger strike, are you?" "Hell, no! But every time I think of food, I just get a mind picture of them fucking in our bed and I get so sick I don't feel like eating." He squeezed my shoulder. "Look, Doc... you're in a bad place, emotionally and mentally. I don't have a clue what your going through, but whatever it is, I know it has to be bad." He left me and the lights went out and I tried to sleep. Difficult when you keep dreaming of your wife fucking your best friend. The next morning I was allowed to have a shower and a shave with a disposable razor and I was taken through a connecting door into the small court room in the civic buildings. My wife was there, as was Vic's wife. Vic, of course, was in hospital, recovering from what was no more than a flesh wound. The judge looked down at me and said: "you are Doctor Wallace Greenslade, you are charged with wounding. I am not going to ask for a plea today, that will happen at a future hearing. Today is, essentially a bail hearing. I will set bail at $50,000 and arrange for you to..." I interrupted him. "You honor, if it pleases the court to hear me, I don't want bail." His halfmoon glasses fell down his nose. He sputtered: "You don't want bail? Why? If you can't afford it, there's one bailbondsman in town, he'll arrange it for you." Mystery Meat Marriage "No, sir, it's not about the money, I could afford it out of my own resources, but you see, I don't want bail. If I am bailed I would be unable to return to my former home as that is where my wife had sex with her lover. I no longer consider that my home. And my wife? Well, when I caught her with the ejaculate of another man seeping from her vagina, I knew she was no longer my wife, that she was his concern now, not mine." There was a murmur from the sparse audience, then the sound of my former wife, sobbing. "But you'll go to county jail," the judge said. "Sir, I am well aware of that. However, I shot a man, I'll get jailtime in any case. I just thought I might as well start that sooner, rather than later." He nodded and said: "I can see your reasoning. However, I note you have no legal representation. That's something you will need to address." He committed me to the county jail and as I was shackled and handcuffed, I glanced toward my wife. She looked like I felt. And I was glad if it. I shared my cell with a young guy who was in jail for fraud. I felt sorry for him, his story was one of ineptitude rather than malice. Apparently his boss had bilked him on his pay, so he had inflated his invoices for expenses. All his attempt at do it yourself restitution had netted him was two years in jail. When I told him my story he said: "Gee. That's a horrible thing to find out! My dad cheated on my mom. You know, she never remarried." And that's where this story started. I was in jail, awaiting trial for shooting my wife's lover. And although I'd made my point -no one fucks my wife, but me!- where the hell had that one foolish act of retribution gotten me? No job, a medical licence that would be pulled and God knew how many years in jail. I had no work to do in prison, I was on remand and technically not guilty of anything, yet, so not given any work assignments but I quickly grew bored and volunteered to work in the prison hospital. It wasn't a real hospital, just an infirmary with a few beds in a side room. There was very little to do but help the nurse who ran it. He was a wily old guy, he'd been an Army nurse in a MASH unit in the Vietnam War and was near retirement age. He heard my tale with sympathy as we catalogued the meagre medical supplies in the prison hospital. "Shit, Doc!" he shouted, a laugh in his voice. "That so-called friend of yours is damn lucky he didn't cheat on my wife! No, way! If I'd have caught him with my wife I'd have shot his balls off!" I laughed with him. First time I'd laughed since the incident with Lee Pairings. That seemed like years ago, but it was only a matter of a week or so. My wife came to visit me. The arrangements in the county jail I was in were what they were. I don't know, or care, frankly, if they are the same everywhere. The meeting was in a small private room. It looked like an ordinary office, except there was no external window, there was an armed guard and I was in handcuffs. We sat at either sides of a small coffee table. Which was bolted to the floor, same as the chairs. She looked tired. "How are they treating you, Wally?" I shrugged. "Well enough, I guess. Why are you here, Debrah?" A look of irritation flashed across her face. "Because I am your wife!" "Are you? Really? I thought you were Vic's woman, now?" My voice sounded somewhat bitter. "I am not his woman, Wally. I am your woman. I just... had a fling with Vic, that's all." "How long for?" "Oh, I don't... I can't quite recall. About six months?" "There's no use asking me, damn it! How the hell would I know how long your affair lasted? "Still... six months, you say? Debrah, that is not a fling, that's a full grown love affair!" Tears welled up in her eyes. God! I was going to get the full treatment if the waterworks were anything to go by! "Anyhow, how is Vic?" She snuffled before answering. "He is OK. It was only a flesh wound. He's already back at work." I looked at her, hard. "And how is his wife, Mandy? The woman you cheated on with Vic?" "She and I... we had a little talk. She's mad with me.." "No shit!" I shouted loudly. "She finds out her faithful hubby is banging you and she's mad with you? Boy! The nerve of that woman!" If sarcasm was a crime, I'd have been declared guilty. Debrah shook her head. "She's not mad with me because I cheated on her with Vic, she's mad at me because of how badly I hurt you!" I sat back, shocked. "Really? Why's that?" Debrah rubbed her hands together, nervously. "Because, well, they have a sort of an open marriage. But she said it was wrong to have snuck around. That if we were going to play together, Vic and I, that we should have told you and her." She shrugged. "I can see her point, now." So our business partners were swingers and one of them had snared my wife into an adulterous lifestyle? Fuck. And you think you know people! And then my mind went back to my original opinion of Vic and I realised I hadn't misread him at all, back then. Except maybe I'd underestimated what a piece of shit he really was. Eventually, visiting time was over and Debrah left. Thank God. My life in prison was pretty routine. It wasn't as bad as some movies would have you believe, but then, nor was it a country club, either. I realised that I was getting out of condition, so I worked out in the prison gym, I tried to eat more healthily, which wasn't easy in the County Jail, and life went on. Debrah visited me once a week and I realised over the weeks that although I still loved her very much indeed, that things would never be the same again. That the only way forward for me was divorce. After the second month of my being remanded in prison I had a surprise. Mandy. She came to visit me. As she sat down I said: "Well, Mandy, this is a surprise. Not an unpleasant one, necessarily, but it is a surprise, never-the-less. How can I help you?" She smiled. "Oh, Wallace, despite the circumstances, it really is good to see you, again. I was worried about you, wondering how you are getting on. But you don't seem to look too bad." She gave a frown of concentration. "Are you working out?" I gave her a smile in return: "Yes, gosh, if it's that obvious, then it must be working." She nodded and said: "It's obvious, but especially to us women. We tend to notice things more. Except, well, maybe I am a disgrace to the gift of female intuition. Because, Wallace, I had not got the first idea that Debrah and Vic were an item. "When she phoned me and told me that you'd shot Vic because you'd caught them together in bed, I thought she was joking, but when I heard the fear and panic in her voice, I knew that she was telling the truth." She looked at me and said: "I expect Debrah has told you that Vic and I were swingers?" ('Were" rather than "are"? That particular choice of words intrigued me.) "Yes, she did mention it. So, what does all this mean?" "Wal, whatever Debrah and Vic were getting up to, it was not swinging. Every marriage has to be based on trust. And, believe it or believe it not, the swinging marriage even more so. There are certain boundaries that are never to be crossed, always ensuring your spouse is happy with your choice of swinging partner, that they are happy too, that they get as much sexual release as you do. "Then there are other rules. We belong to a couple of swinging clubs, one in a city 100 miles to the north, the other in a slightly smaller city 50 miles to the east. And we never swing with anyone we know, no friends, nos or work colleagues. "I'm here to reassure you that I was not a party to what was happening between Vic and Debrah. That was not swinging, it was cheating. A long term affair. And I will not be cheated on. Ever!" I asked her if she thought the cheating was as a result of the boundaries of their marriage already having been blurred by the swinging lifestyle? She looked thoughtful and took several seconds to formulate an answer. "You know, Wal, I'm not certain. Though I think you might have a point I'd be willing to concede. Maybe it did. Anyway, I am not keen on continuing the swinging lifestyle any longer. I have always played fair and he decided to go play with someone else. And that's not fair." "So, what are you going to do?" I asked her. "I want to try counselling. What about you and Debrah?" I shrugged. "I can't see how I can get past the cheating." She pursed her lips and nodded. She took her leave. Just after my third month of incarceration my trial was slated for the next week. Apparently something had happened and a case had collapsed so my trial was one that was boosted up the list. I think this was because I had plead guilty so they knew there'd be no lengthy court room time. The day of the trial I felt, what?, calm? Yes calm. "Show time!" I smiled at myself in the steel mirror of my cell as they put the cuffs on me and I walked out of the cell. There was a problem as the judge would not let the case proceed as I did not have a lawyer representing me. I told him I would represent myself. He shrugged and nodded. "Well, a person is allowed to defend themselves, if they wish." I plead guilty and the DA stood up. He asked me several questions about my relationship with the injured party. After standing for several seconds in thought, I said: "A good friend, right up until I found him having sex with my wife in our own marital bed." He said: "You were angry with him. Angry enough to kill him, perhaps?" Before I had a chance to answer the judge rapped his gavel, one time. He look irritated. He addressed the DA: "Bruce! I simply will not let you get away with that! If he had tried to kill his rival for his wife's affections, you'd have him here on attempted murder charges! So quit that, now! There's no damn jury to grandstand to, so just stop it!" The DA's face flushed with embarrassment and he apologised to the judge. He turned to me. "Why did you shoot him?" "I honestly can't answer that question. I didn't want to kill him, didn't in particular want to hurt him. I just wanted to stop him having sex with my wife." After some more inane questions the judge intervened, saying: "Just where in the Hell are you taking us? The defendant has admitted his guilt in the offence of wounding his wife's lover. So what else is there to go over?" The DA said: "I understand that." The judge said: "Well, let's move on, then. Are you ready to making your application for sentencing?" "Yes, your honor," came the reply. "Than let's do it." The DA really began to lay it on with a trowel. He told how fearful my wife and Vic had been when I had found them, how they thought that I intended to kill them both in hot blood and so on. He rounded it off by demanding 18 years in jail! My heart sank. Maybe I should have tried a not guilty plea? Got a lawyer? I could spend the next 18 years, eating prison food, for fuck's sake! The judge asked me if I would like to reply. I thanked him and stood up. "Your honor, until the afternoon when I found my wife having sex with my former good friend and colleague, Doctor Victor Marsh, I thought that Debrah and I had a first rate, loving and caring marriage." I shrugged at this point. "With the benefit of hindsight, I can now see that was not the case. Clearly, my wife had grown tired of my attentions and perhaps tired of me and that she had decided to take a lover. "If I could turn back time I would not shoot Vic, he's a cheater. He's not worth it. I am not used to handling guns, but carrying a gun was part of the contract of my work at the hospital and so that's how I came to be carrying a pistol." I looked into the public gallery. Vic wasn't there, but I saw Debrah and Mandy. They were huddled together and Debrah was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. The judge thanked me for my comments. He looked at the DA, then me. "Well, Dr Victor Marsh got shot. In the bed of his married lover by someone who he had decided to hang the cuckold's horns on. But Dr Wallace Greenslade did not like the fact that his supposed friend and his wife could do such a disgusting and hurtful thing to him, so in a moment of rage, he took one, non-fatal, shot at Dr Marsh. "I have to say that Dr Marsh was the author of his own misfortune. Only an idiot or a monumentally arrogant person would consider having an affair with the wife of a friend and colleague, if he knows that the husband of his affair partner was legally carrying a gun." At this point, he paused for effect. "However, let it me noted that the ability for Dr Marsh to be stupid or arrogant are not mutually exclusive. So it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that Dr Marsh was both stupid and arrogant. "However, that does not excuse the fact that Dr Grenslade did shoot Dr Marsh. However, this was no hoodlum shooting up the owner of a mom and pop store, no gang member randomly shooting some guy in a parked car in a driveby shooting. "No. This was a good, loyal and loving husband who caught his wife having sex with another man, in his and her own marital bed. You know, that's got to be a bad place to be. "So... I am going to do something unique. I accept that Dr Greenslade accepts that he is guilty of the crime. And that in our State that crime usually carries a jail term of between 8 to 15 years. And I am sentencing you to 8 years in prison, Dr Greenslade." I heard a woman, possibly Debrah, give out a sob. I, however, was sanguine about it. It was pretty much what I'd expected. The judge continued: "However, I also accept that there were exonerating circumstances. I therefore propose to suspend the remainder of the sentence for a period of six months. If you keep your nose clean during that six months, then you will be a free man." I couldn't believe it. Far from having to send the next decade or two eating prison food, I was actually already freed! But it was a hollow freedom. I got a small furnished studio apartment and I decided to file for divorce. My wife insisted on couple's counselling. It was a waste of time, from my point of view, as my mind was made up. We each had an individual session followed by a joint session. It was a bit: "Get in touch with your child" for my liking, but if it was part of the process of ridding myself of a cheating wife, then I could endure it for a while. I knew what I wanted to do with my life, so I looked up an old friend from medical college and he helped me arrange some things. The joint session was in a conference room at the offices of the counselor we had each seen individually. Debrah spoke first. She told me how sorry she was, how she had realised she had some serious boundary issues, but how she had grown, how she would never cheat on me again and so forth. "But we can make this work!" she was very emphatic. So emphatic that I realised my wife really did not know me very well at all. The marriage counselor, June Brookes, was a kindly and well meaning woman who looked like she was a throwback to the hippy era. She smiled when Debrah had finished and nodded. She looked at me and said, "Wallace now it is your turn." I looked at Debrah and said: "How?" Debrah looked confused. "How, what, Wally?" "How can we make this work?" She smiled. Once, her smile melted my heart. Now? I found it insufferably irritating. Then she spoke. "Well, Carla and I," she nodded to our marriage counselor, "have come up with a plan. I will let you have full access to all my online accounts like Facebook and Twitter, you can have the password to my cell phone, plus you can place a GPS locator on my phone so you can always know what I'm doing, where I am going and so on." She seemed so pleased that I was uneasy about bursting her bubble. Both of them were smiling, like they'd done something good. "So, you want me to monitor you, day and night, Debrah? Keep tabs on you all day, every day?" She nodded: "Yes! If that's what it takes, then I'll be happy with that!" I shook my head and spoke in slow, deliberate tones. "No, you won't. Or at least, you will be happy with that, at first. But tell me, Debrah, how long before you started to resent me for monitoring you 24/7?" She looked at me, a stricken expression on her face. This was not going as she'd planned. "But... I wouldn't!" she protested. "Oh, Debrah! I know you better than that! You would start resenting me. Eventually, you'd work out a way to beat the monitoring. And in any case, if I had to monitor your whereabouts 24 hours a day, that would not make me your husband, it would make me your jailer! You'd be my prisoner! I just could not live like that! "Besides which, when a normal husband or wife's partner is 20 minutes late, the natural reaction is to think: "I hope nothing is wrong with them! I hope they're alright!" But the spouse of a cheater would think: "I wonder who they went off with?" She looked at me, glanced at June who shrugged her shoulders. June said: "Nobody can make a betrayed spouse reconcile with the partner who cheated on them, Debrah." Tears started to flow from Debrah's eyes. "But I love him, June! Can't you help me make him see that?" Darla said nothing. She looked at me, as if she was expecting me to say something. I cleared my throat. My heart was breaking, but I knew that for my own peace of mind, there was no going back on what I had planned. "It's no good, Debrah. I know you love me and I love you. But I cannot live with a cheating spouse. I could not live the rest of my damned life always monitoring you, checking up on you, spying on you. That would break my heart. That'd be no life for you, or for me. "I am surprised you chose to do it, when you knew what even consenting swinging did to the marriage of Dean and Nancy Ross? Did you really think that I would be able to forgive you for cheating on me?" She shook her head. "I am sorry, so very sorry about this, Wally. I turned you into my cuckold. I knew you'd be mad with me, should you have found out. I guess I never understood exactly how mad it would make you feel. That you'd shoot Vic and that you wouldn't be able to forgive me." "That's not right, Debrah," I walked over to her, wiped her eyes with a tissue from the box on the table. "I do forgive you. But I just can't get over what you did. I am sorry. You'll get the divorce papers in the mail. I won't have a process server serve you. That's not what I am about. I do not want to punish you or humiliate you. I just want to get on with the rest of my life, as best I can. And I want the same for you." Mandy forced Vic to make an out of court settlement on me and six months later, the divorce was final and the jail sentence was no longer hanging over my head. I had a hearing at the State Licensing Board. They decided to suspend my licence to practice medicine, but backdated it to the period that I was in prison. So I got a slap on the wrist, but no more. Vic, on the other hand, received a stiff fine and a mark on his record. Apparently cheating on the spouse of your fellow doctor was taken quite badly by the board. I gave the landlord of my furnished studio notice and I made another call to Doctor Dean Ross. Apparently after he'd split from his wife and left medical school he had gone back home to California and transferred his studies to a medical school there and completed his degree. He had a job as Medical Director of Anglo-Pacific Cruises, one of the largest cruise liner concerns in the world. After I'd told him of what had happened between Debrah and I, he'd managed to arrange a berth for me as a ship's doctor on their flagship the Maid of the Bay. My first cruise would be around the world voyage. I was fitted with a proper officer's uniform (two, counting the tropical whites) and had a beautifully appointed cabin attached to what the ship's map referred to as a doctor's surgery. The spelling and terminology on the Maid of the Bay was all in British English, to ramp up the "Anglo" aspect of the ship. Mystery Meat Marriage I stood on the deck, helping to welcome the passengers aboard. There were some gorgeous women coming on board, many of them with husbands, so they were off limits to me (I knew I'd never be able to do to some other husband what Vic had done to me. But there were plenty of singletons. And if Debrah's betrayal of me was still too raw to indulge, there would be other cruises that I'd work on. Both Debrah and Mandy had sent me cards. Debrah to wish me bon voyage, Mandy to tell me she had finally kicked Vic out and was suing him for divorce. Life goes on. Mystery Meat Revealed A HUGE thank you to RodenAddison for editing my story. RodenAddison has helped me greatly, given me advice, and edited my work extensively. * * * Part: 1 Compatibility is like Russian roulette. It is a hit or miss game of chance involving two kinds of players: talkers and listeners. Talkers and listeners can form a good bond, feeding off each other's energy to make a good relationship. They could also form a bad connection, finding faults in each other's strengths and weaknesses. Nina is a talker. At the age of eighteen, Nina wants a boyfriend more than she wants to get into college. She is a senior in high school with high aspirations for herself. She is a ball of energy that could talk you ear off, but it seems like the only topic of interest to her is nabbing a man for prom. At Nina's work place, all of her co-workers know how she is - loud and always on the prowl. It seems every conversation ended with Nina asking, "Hey, does anybody know someone who would like to go to prom with me?" Nina is a pretty girl, standing five foot seven with curly brown hair that wisps around her shoulders. She is slender and her C-cup breasts are perched high on her chest. She has a warm smile and wide brown eyes. She is pretty, but knows looks will only get her so far. Most people see her and hesitate, knowing what is about to come out of her set of full lips. Jeremy is an average guy, five foot eight with a medium build. His warm personality is infectious and his sense of humor draws people in like a hummingbird to nectar. He's the kind of guy who says the right thing at the right time. Nina started working with him a few months ago and they instantly became friends. They eat together on their lunch breaks and Nina calls him for advice whenever she needs it. Jeremy listens, smiles and nods, seemingly happy to help a friend. March is unnaturally warm and prom planning is in full swing at Nina's high school. After contemplating it for weeks, Nina decides to pop the question to Jeremy. She finds him in the break room and sits down across from him, batting her eyelashes and smiling. "Jeremy, will you go to prom with me?" "I would love to Nina, but I'm twenty-two. You have to be under twenty-one to go to a high school prom. So I'm sorry, but I can't go." Disappointment washes over Nina's face. "But, can't you just pretend you're twenty-one so you can go with me?" "As tempting as evading high school prom policy sounds, it's a disaster waiting to happen. I can't, Nina." "Hmph," Nina sighs and stands up. "Okay, thanks anyway. Talk to you later." Nina walks from the break room, hanging her head. "Hey, Nina!" Jeremy calls. "I'm having a party on Friday after work, if you'd like to come." Nina's face brightens at the invitation. "Okay, cool. I'll come by." "Maybe it will help get your mind off all this prom bullshit." Jeremy puts a hand on her shoulder and gives her a warm smile. "Cheer up, kiddo." Nina blushes as he rubs her shoulder and heads back to work. The rest of the week, Nina is on edge with excitement for Jeremy's party. After Jeremy suggested she take a break from thinking about prom, it has been the only thing on her mind. 'Maybe I can find someone to go with me to prom at the party!' Nina thinks to herself with delight. Giddy, Nina counts down the days until Friday. Friday is a warm night with a clear sky full of stars. After work, Nina stops at home to change her clothes and cake on some make-up. She chooses a short sleeved, button down plaid shirt and tight black skinny jeans. She takes a last look in the mirror, admiring her reflection and puckering her lips in a mock kiss. The party is in full swing when Nina arrives around ten thirty. The music is loud and vibrates through Nina's body as she walks into the house. Someone gives her a red cup. She does not know what it contains, but she downs it. She wanders around from room to room until she finds Jeremy in the kitchen, playing beer pong with some friends. "Nina, you made it!" Jeremy throws his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close. "Hi Jeremy," Nina yells over the music. "This party is really great. Thanks for the invite." "No problem." Jeremy's breath is hot against her ear and a mix of beer and sweat seeps into Nina's nostrils. "Grab a drink. Make yourself at home." Jeremy releases Nina from his grasp and returns to his game. Nina serves herself another drink and sits quietly at the counter, sipping a thick concoction from another red cup. She observes everyone, making assumptions and thinking about who would make a good prom date. She sits tall, putting her tits on display through her thin shirt. Nina talks to a few people, all of which she knows mutually through friends. She casually brings up prom, only to find out almost everyone at the party is either over twenty-one or has a date already. Frustrated, Nina's intentions turn from prom to sex. Nina wanders around the house. There are a few couples getting frisky in some of the upstairs rooms, but no sign of any single guys. "I just want to fuck someone!" Nina mutters under her breathe. She takes her jacket and stomps toward the door. As she reaches for the door knob, a voice stops her. "Hello, Nina." The voice is deep and husky. Nina turns toward the sound. There is a man standing in the doorway of the kitchen. His face is dark but the light from the room behind him illuminates his silhouette. He is wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt and is standing hunched over in the door frame. "Who are you?" Nina inquires, with a slight shake in her voice. "Don't worry, Nina." He says as he takes a step toward her. Suddenly there is a mouth over hers. It is rough but warm and he tastes like cheap beer. His lips are full and his tongue plays tricks with her's. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides. He starts to move toward the stairs. She pulls back and tries to scream but his hand clamps over her mouth. At the top of the stairs, the stranger pulls Nina into a dark room. He throws her down on the bed and locks the door. The only light shines from under the crack in the door. The figure stands before her and she can see the whites of his eyes, and the glow of his white teeth. He grabs her hair in his fist and devours her mouth again. He is rough but Nina can feel herself getting aroused by his aggression. He pulls her up on the bed and stands over her, pinning her hands above her head. "Who the fuck are you? What do you think you're doing?" "I thought you wanted to fuck, Nina? You've been sitting in the kitchen, putting your tits in every guys face all night." His hand finds her breast and he begins to massage it under her shirt. "Do you like this, Nina?" He asks. She can see him smiling, enjoying watching her struggle to get free. Her words are stuck in her throat. She cannot speak. Nina stares into the darkness at the faceless man. He rips open her shirt, sending buttons flying across the room. "Front clasp bra? You really are asking for it." He unfastens the clasp with his free hand and her tits to spill out in front of him. Her nipples are dark, contrasting against the pale white of her skin. He takes a breast in his mouth. He bites her erect nipple and squeezes her roughly. She can feel her pussy getting wet from the arousal and she whimpers with pain and pleasure. "Please... please stop." The words escape her lips like flower petals falling to the floor. His hand slides from her breasts down over her flat stomach. His mouth crashes down on hers and he forces her jeans open. She kicks her legs to shake him off, but he pins her down with one knee. His hand slides into her pants and rests heavily over her mound. The spot of wetness seeps through her panties and dampens his fingers. "You want me to stop? You're dripping fucking wet right now." His palm massages her wet lips through the thin lace. A moan escapes her throat. His takes his hand out of her pants, grabs the waistband firmly and pulls. He smiles at the sight of her shaven smooth pussy, white teeth gleaming. "That's a fucking gorgeous pussy you have there." "What the fuck?" Nina screams. "Shhh..." The stranger whispers before his mouth stops her words. His finger brush over Nina's engorged pussy lips. Nina is breathing heavily, trying to ignore the pleasure. When his fingers plunge into her, she tries to stifle a moan but he hears it. "I knew you'd like these thick fingers inside you. You're such an easy slut." He forces his fingers in and out, rubbing her juices over her labia and clit. His cock is growing in his pants, yearning for her hot cunt. He presses himself against her leg so she can feel how much he wants her. "I want to fuck that pretty pussy," He says gruffly. Nina's brown eyes widen. "No! You can't! I won't let you!" "You won't let me?" He says as he unzips his pants. He pushes them down forcefully. "I didn't ask your permission." He tugs on his boxers and his dick springs up, the head of his nine inch cock oozing pre-cum. He releases her arms and flips her over on her stomach. He slaps her ass hard and Nina yelps. "Such a fine piece of ass," he says as he starts finger fucking her again. She moans into the comforter. His fingers leave her and she feels his cock straining at her opening. "Wait, no! Please, stop... Oh God!" Nina cries out as he forces his entire throbbing dick in her tight little pussy. He massages her firm ass and grabs her hips. He pulls her farther back, sending shock waves of pain and pleasure through Nina's body. "Do you like this, whore? Do you like me fucking you like a dirty slut?" "No...wait...please..." Nina tries to deny him but he is so good and his cock fills her entirely. The man grabs a mass of curls and pulls her head back roughly. He puts his mouth to her ear and growls at her. "You walk around, throwing yourself at boys to get whatever you can get your dirty little hands on. You're such a slut. I bet you like it in the ass, too." A sharp pain pulsates in her ass as his finger plunges into her. She whimpers in pain. As he continues, the pain subsides and turns to a pleasurable sensation. With each stroke, she stops crying and starts making short grunting noises. "I take it you like that, slut?" He drops her upper body like a sack of potatoes back down on the bed. He fucks her with his fingers in her ass and with his dick in her cunt, thrusting hard and fast. Nina feels herself reach the edge. "You like that, don't you slut? You like getting off from a stranger's hard dick inside you." She screeches like a cat in heat and claws at the bed sheets as the orgasm rocks her body. Nina falls limp on the bed, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. "Take me in your mouth, whore." "What?" "I'm going to blow my load all over your face and in your mouth," he says, with a hard slap on her ass. "No, I don...." The man flips her over and pulls her hips down off the edge of the bed so she is sitting on the floor. He stands over her, his cock inches from her face. He pulls the shaft back and lets it go, giving Nina a hard mushroom stamp on her cheek. He pushes his throbbing cock in her mouth. His fingers grasp her hair and pulls her onto him forcing her to swallow him whole, taking all of his wet cock into her perfect, little mouth. "Oh yeah, bitch. You're mouth feels so good. Oh God, I'm so close." He fucks her mouth with intensity and throws his head back. He takes the dick in his hand and begins to shoot his hot seed over her face and tits and into her mouth. He shoves his dick in her mouth again, making her suck his dick dry. He pulls his member out and looks at Nina, slumped down on the floor with her face and tits dripping with his cum. The new mark on her face is bright red. He grabs a box of tissues from the small table. "Clean yourself up," he commands. He gets up and pulls his pants back on. He starts to walk away but Nina stops him. "Wait! Who are you?" Nina's voice is shaky after the sexual assault on her body. The man turns and smiles, flashing his white teeth at her. "Thanks for the fuck, Nina." He opens the door. The light from the hallway illuminates his face, but Nina can only see the back of his head. He closes the door behind him, leaving Nina alone without knowing the shadowy man who just fucked her brains out. Part: 2 "I just want to find him! Ugh, this is so frustrating!" Nina whines into her cellphone. She flops down on her bed and grabs her pillow, hugging it tightly to her chest. "Why doesn't he just come and tell me who he is?" "Tell me again what happened, Nina." Jeremy says soothingly over the phone. "Well, I was at your party a few weeks ago. When I was leaving, this guy came up to me and grabbed me. Then he took me into a bedroom and had sex with me! He called me a slut and all this degrading shit. I know it's bad... but it was actually really good. I just want to know who he is." "Well, have you asked anyone who was at the party if they saw this guy?" "I talked to a couple of guys who I saw earlier in the night at the party. But the only thing I know about this mystery guy is that he had a huge dick." Jeremy laughs. "That is true." "So the only way I could tell if it was someone would be by fucking them...So I kind of had sex with a few guys to see if they were the mystery guy." "Nina, you fucked random guys to see if they were the one who fucked you before? Now it seems like you're giving him a reason to call you a slut." "I mean, none of them were as good as THE guy so I don't think it's any of them." "Nina, you're missing the point..." "But he was so good, Jeremy." "Nina, I'm going to bed. See you at work tomorrow." "What? Oh...okay. Good night!" Nina flips her phone shut in frustration. Memories flood her brain. She imagines the stranger's eager mouth over hers. She can feel his hand close over her breast and her nipples begin to harden. She remembers his cock probing her pussy and fucking her until that amazing orgasm rocked her entire body. A yell from her mother pulls Nina from the trance, pussy lips wet, her lungs breathing heavy. She grabs a robe and dashes out the room. Upon her return, she drifts to sleep thinking about her mysterious man. * * * "Hey Nina, would you like to come over later after work? I'm having some people over and thought you might like to join. I know you've been hung up on this guy since the last party so maybe it'll get your mind off him." Nina lowers the hot coffee from her lips. "That's what you told me last time but about over-thinking the prom. Look what happened!" Jeremy chokes on his coffee, coughing and laughing loudly. After regaining his composure, he stammers out, "That's true, but this time I won't leave you alone. I promise it will be more fun than the last party, too." "Okay fine. I have the night shift so I'll be over after work around ten thirty." Jeremy grins and pats Nina's shoulder. "Awesome. See you then." Nina watches Jeremy stride out of the break room. Her mind races thinking about the man from the party. She chugs the rest of her lukewarm coffee and tries to occupy her mind with work for the remainder of the day. Nina rushes home to change her clothes from a t-shirt and jeans to black leggings, a peach tank top, and matching peach colored flats. She spritzes on some flowery perfume for the finishing touch. She avoids the questions from her mother about where she is rushing off to. She reassures her she will be home by one and she won't drink and drive. She bolts out the front door and into her gold Mazda 3, speeding down the street toward Jeremy's house. It is dark when she pulls up in front of the house and only Jeremy's car is in the driveway. 'Hmm, that's strange. I thought there were other people coming over.' Nina thinks to herself. She gets out of the car and walks to the entrance. She knocks lightly. "Come in!" Jeremy calls. Nina cautiously pushes open the door. The front hallway is dark and it is hard to see. She shuts the door and feels along the wall for a light switch. Instead of finding the light, Nina finds a hand over her mouth and a cool voice cooing in her ear. "Hello, Nina. Don't be afraid." Jeremy pulls Nina up the stairs and into a room. Once inside, Jeremy shuts and locks the door. He releases Nina's mouth. Her eyes are filled with surprise as she stares up at Jeremy. He is grinning with his shining white teeth. Those teeth... "You were the one at the party, weren't you?" Nina's voice is shaky. "Yes, Nina. I bet you never thought your best friend Jeremy would be the guy to fuck your brains out." Jeremy walks slowly over to Nina. Terror paralyzes her body. She cannot move or speak. He stands over her on the bed, reaching down to snake his fingers through her curly locks. The scent of him, a mixture of cologne and soap is sweet and inviting. He leans over her and presses his mouth to hers. Nina feels the same rough, urgent mouth that brought her under a spell weeks ago. He kneels over her and grabs her hands, pinning them over her head. He slides his hand under her loose top, grasping at her tits through her bra. "Is this what you want, Nina?" Nina stares up at him with her brown, puppy dog eyes. There is a slight quiver in her quiet voice. "I-I don't know. You're being a little bit rough..." "Nina, all you have been talking about for weeks is how good this guy was. Now you know it was me and I'm doing exactly what I did that night. You're telling me you don't want it?" "That was different." "It's not different! You liked it then and you're going to like it now." Jeremy forces Nina up to the headboard and pulls off her shirt. He jerks off her bra, holding it tightly in his fist. Jeremy smiles, drops the bra, and starts unbuckling his belt while still holding her arms down. "Jeremy, what the fuck are you going to do to me?" Jeremy slides the shiny leather out of the loops and it cracks like a whip against the floor. "Don't worry, Nina." He places her arms between two of the bars and secures her wrists with the worn leather belt. Jeremy smiles as her face turns pale white. He reaches into the bedside table. "Let's play a little game." She thrashes from side to side but he grabs her chin and forces her to look at him. Then he grabs a silky black scarf and forces it into her mouth. Jeremy knots it behind her head. Nina feels tears sting in the backs of her eyes. "Don't cry, Nina." He brushes a tear from her cheek. He turns her face to the side and begins biting and licking the soft skin of her neck. "Delicious perfume you're wearing, Nina." Shivers run down her spine and her nipples become erect from the sensations. Nina feels a mix of eagerness, fear, and helplessness wash over her. Nina's pussy quivers and she can feel her panties getting wetter as her neck is bitten and her nipples are squeezed. "You're the biggest slut I've ever met, Nina. When you told me you fucked all those guys, it made me jealous and angry. Now, you need to be punished." Jeremy pulls of her leggings and panties. His fingers trace up and down her body, her soft white skin now dotted with goose bumps. When his fingers meet her smooth pussy, his fingers catch her juices. "You're already sopping wet for me, easy slut. Are you ready to see what my cock looks like again?" He whispers as he kicks off his jeans. His nine inch dick sticks straight up, the thick head oozing precum. Jeremy kneels on the bed and positions himself between her legs. He spreads her drippings all over her hot pussy with the tip of his dick. Feeling the head of his cock, Nina leans her head back against the headboard, remembering their previous encounter. "Tell me you want me, slut. Beg for my cock inside of you." Nina's eyes snap open as he reaches up and pulls out the gag. Nina bites her lip and whines. Jeremy grabs her face in his hand and roars, "Tell me you want my cock, bitch!" Mystery Meat Revealed "I want your long, hard cock deep inside me! Please, Jeremy, fill me with your hot cum!" Jeremy lifts her hips and thrusts his thick member inside of her in one swift motion. Nina throws her head back and moans as he pounds her pussy, hitting her cervix sharply. One hand pinches her left nipple while the other runs circles over her clit, causing loud sounds to escape Nina's throat. "You're such a dirty slut. You're cunt is so hot and wet for me. Do you like this, bitch?" "Oh yes, I love it." Nina watches as Jeremy moves in and out of her, his shaft wet with the sign of her arousal. "Do you want me in your tight asshole? You've only had my fingers. Do you want my dick too?" "Oh God, yes I do. Put your thick cock deep in my asshole." Jeremy grabs a bottle of lube out of the bedside table drawer and squirts a few drops on the head of his engorged shaft. He folds her legs above her head, exposing both of her waiting holes to him. He probes her with the head, giving her a feel for his length. "No, Jeremy, wait. It hurts. Please, stop." Nina cries as he continues to push into her. "Sluts take it in the ass and don't cry about it. Do what I say, whore." Jeremy pushes the last two inches in and Nina's face contorts in pain. He moves slowly in and out, letting her get used to the new sensation. "Do you like this, you shameless hussy?" "It's so...weird. But I think it feels good." Nina confesses as her body relaxes. Jeremy grins as he starts to pound her backdoor faster. His fingers tap her clit lightly and after only a minute of this, Nina screams. "Oh God, I'm coming!" Her sphincter contracts with her orgasm and Jeremy grunts as his hot load shoots into her. Nina's legs fall to the sides and Jeremy collapses on top of her, both of them panting and dripping with sweat. After a few minutes, Jeremy gets up and releases Nina from the bed. She rubs her wrists, which are red and raw from the rough leather. Nina looks up at him from the bed and blushes. "That was really good, Jeremy. I never thought my best friend would..." Jeremy stares at her in disbelief. "You really are a slut, aren't you? Nina, get dressed and get out. Call me when you grow up." Jeremy walks out of the room, leaving Nina stupefied, just like the first time.