Loading...I never meant for any of this to happen. I have been married for five years and have never even come close to cheating on my husband. None of this is my fault and the only reason I’m telling you any of this is that I need to tell someone, need to get it out of my system. I consider myself to be a reasonably intelligent woman, I’m certainly no babe in the woods but I can’t deal with this. If writing about this helps me come to terms with it then, so be it.
I suppose I should start by telling you a little about myself. I’m a twenty-nine year old woman, but my friends say I look a lot younger. I’m a marketing rep for a major software company. I’ve got chestnut brown hair and blue eyes. I wear my hair short in kind of a funky bob. I’m five six and weigh a hundred and nineteen pounds.. I am the mother of a two year old and am proud of my figure, it took a whole lot of hours in the gym to get it back to a size four. Even though I’m thin, I suppose I’ve got curves. I’m a C cup and my hips seem a little fuller now then before the baby. I guess I am pretty. My husband says I look like that Australian singer, the one that used to be in the soaps, but I don’t know about that.
A few months ago I had to go to a trade show in Dallas with some co-workers. We worked like dogs to get our exhibit set up and were on our feet meeting and greeting for two days straight. We decided to treat ourselves to a nice dinner as a reward. We went to the restaurant at our hotel and had a magnificent meal. I had Gulf Shrimp, it was wonderful. The three of us polished off a bottle of Vouvrey with dinner. Jenny suggested we go to the bar for a night cap. It was early so I figured, “Why not?”
Well, I like to chat so one drink turned into three. I was drinking gin and tonic. They didn’t seem to be all that strong. I was not drunk but I suppose I was a little buzzed. A tall, handsome guy came over and started talking to us. He introduced himself as Jack and said he was here for the trade show. He was very nice and wound up paying a lot of attention to me.
Alright, I will admit that I enjoyed the attention. I’m a flirt, no question. Hell, I’m normal, what woman wouldn’t enjoy talking to a handsome man? Let me state for the record right now, I had NO intention of doing anything more then flirting with him. NOTHING. I love my husband and had no desire to have a ‘fling’ with anyone.
Well, he bought us all another round and things began to get fuzzy shortly thereafter. All I can think of is he must have put something in my drink, you know, one of those ‘date rape’ drugs or something. I know that sounds trite, but it had to have been something like that because I went from buzzed to almost blacked out in no time at all. I had a few drinks under my belt, but not enough to send me that far over that quickly. I have since been over and over that night in my mind, and I think I have pieced together what happened.
I cringe when I think of this, but I guess I got pretty giggly and affectionate. Jenny offered to take me back to my room but I insisted on staying. Jack began to get touchy-feely while talking and I guess I reciprocated, touching his arm and hand while talking to him, sitting close, the whole drill. I can remember at one point laughing at something he said while he had his hand rubbing the small of my back. I remember later, loudly announcing to my companions that Jack could escort me back to my room.
The next real memory I have is waking up in my hotel bed, naked. I don’t usually sleep in the nude so I knew something was wrong. I was bleary and hung-over, worse then I have ever been. As my head cleared, I remembered the events at the restaurant. Feeling a chill of foreboding, I forced myself to recall more. Almost as if in a dream, I recalled making love to a man other then my husband. I sat up abruptly in the bed and felt a little sore, ‘down there’. I touched myself and the stickiness confirmed my worst nightmare.
“Oh my God!” I moaned head in my hands. I remembered his mouth on my neck, on my breasts, on my…. oh God!
My blouse lay in tatters on the floor, the buttons literally ripped off. I remembered him tearing it off me. Oh God, I remembered loving it! I remembered begging him to fuck me! I remember cumming for him, several times! The memories were fuzzy, as I said, dreamlike. I remembered having sex, but no real details, just sensations and flashes of images.
I wept with bitter shame. I remember thinking, “What if I have AIDS?!”
I took hold of myself and calmed down. I would get a test right away. I would not have sex with my husband until I got the results. I would tell him that I was not feeling well if he got affectionate. He need never know and this would NEVER happen again.
I got up and went into the bathroom to shower. There, on the mirror, was a note.
“Thanks for a wonderful evening. Can’t wait to see you again.”
It was signed, “Love, Jack”
I went hysterical for a few minutes. I tore the note into tiny pieces and flushed it down the toilet. I showered for about an hour. The need to catch my plane was the only thing that got me out, that and the need to escape that hotel room.
I almost lost it when I met my husband at the airport. He sensed something was wrong but I just told him I must have caught something in Dallas. I went to my gyno for an HIV test. The 5 days spent waiting for the result were the longest in my life. I felt as if I had come back to life when the result turned up negative. Over the next few weeks, my life slowly became normal again. I compartmentalized my guilt, forcing myself to understand that it had NOT been consensual and that I had nothing to feel guilty over. It only worked to a degree. Foolishly, I didn’t unburden myself to the one person that might help me, my husband.
About two months later, the phone rang at work. I answered it.
“Hello Robin,” a familiar voice replied. My stomach flopped over. Any doubt I may have had as to who it was evaporated with, “this is Jack, remember me?”
“You have a lot of nerve calling me,” I hissed quietly.
“What are you talking about?” he replied, oh so innocently.
“You know what!” I spat out through clenched teeth, “You drugged me and raped me!”
“Robin!” he replied mock shocked, “That’s a very serious accusation. Did you go to the police?”
That rocked me back. That action never even entered my mind. Before I could say anything he continued.
“Of course you didn’t, and, if you did now, no one would find a trace of anything in your system. Besides, I think our pictures would put to rest any claim of force you might make.”
My heart stopped. “Pictures?” I whispered.
“Check your email,” he replied as my computer beeped its announcement that I had mail.
“How do you know my email address?” I asked.
“I know a lot about you, you’d be surprised. Take a look at your message,” he replied.
With a shaking hand, I opened my email program. I noted a new message from an outside source. The subject line said ‘Scrapbook’. It was blank except for an attachment. I opened the attachment and a very clear photo of me…fucking, for want of a better word, certainly not ‘making love’…Jack appeared. Me on top, my favorite position. His penis clearly visible in my pussy, my eyes closed, mouth open in passion. Certainly no sign of force.
“Where did you get this?” I asked, my voice quavering.
“Oh, I have more where that came from,” he replied happily. “You are very photogenic you know, beautiful cheekbones.”
“You know I was drugged,” I spat, fighting back tears.
“Prove it.”
“You son of a bitch!” I hissed.
“OK, shut up cunt,” he said contemptuously, “This is getting boring. I’m in town and want to see you. Get your ass over to the Plaza, I’m in room 523.”
“Why the FUCK would I even think of doing ANYTHING you want you BASTARD!” I railed.
“Because if you don’t, I’ll send these snaps over to your husband,” was his smug reply.
I deflated like a balloon. I hadn’t told my husband, Dave, a thing about that night. At first I was afraid to, then, as the weeks passed, it seemed like it was like a bad dream. If I just pretended it didn’t happen it would go away. I know it was denial, pure and simple, but denial is a very seductive state of mind. If Dave saw these now, he’d have doubts I thought. I never told him. He’d see these pictures of me riding this stranger and wonder. He’s always been a little insecure, he was very jealous while we were dating. Jack’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“I figured you didn’t tell him,” Jack said, chuckling, “all you dumb cunts are the same. Get your ass over here, you have twenty minutes,” and hung up.
I sat there, stunned, looking at the photo of me on the computer screen. The bastard had the camera angle just perfect, my wedding ring sparkled on my left hand. I thought frantically, kidding myself that he just wanted a repeat and that he would go away. I told myself I could handle it, that I could turn the situation around. I would go over to the Plaza, fuck him and he’d go back to where ever he came from. I found myself making lame excuses to my boss and running out to a taxi. I made it to the Plaza with five minutes to spare. I felt the entire hotel was staring at me as I crossed the lobby to the elevator, that the scarlet ‘A’ must be emblazoned on my black silk dress. The click of my high heels seemed to echo like thunder as I got into the elevator and pressed 5. I floated down the hall to 523.
I raised my hand to knock when the door opened and Jack grabbed my arm, pulling me into the room. I heard the door lock behind me and the rattle of the chain as he fastened it. I stepped into the room, noticing it was large and plush. It was a suite as the room I stood in appeared to be a sitting room. No bed was visible but a closed door on the far wall seemed like it might lead to a bedroom. An expensive looking sofa with a large mirror over it and a pair of armchairs flanked a low coffee table. Two drinks sat on the table, one appeared to be whisky of some kind, the other was a gin and tonic.
“Have a seat my dear, I’ve fixed you a drink. Help yourself,” Jack offered, stepping past me and gesturing to the couch.
“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to drink anything you give me,” I answered coldly.
He laughed. “I don’t need to give you anything now, that drink is perfectly safe. You’ll do whatever I want with out chemical aides.”
“You have a high opinion of yourself.”
“Oh sit down, this self-righteous bullshit is getting tedious,” he replied forcefully. I realized I was alone in a room with a man, a dangerous man who was much larger then me. I sat.
Jack produced an envelope from a briefcase on a side table and handed it to me. My worst fears were confirmed as the contents turned out to be more pictures from that night. There was that photo of me on top of him as well as others. Me blowing him, me under him, him licking me and even one of me with my hips propped up by pillows and him doing me doggie style. All of them clearly showed my face as well as his penis in my mouth, vagina, whatever.
I could tell that I was unconscious or only semi-conscious in most of these shots, but they were posed cleverly enough that an outside observer wouldn’t be able to tell. A truly disgusting close-up of my pussy dripping his seamen finished the set. I had time to begin to wonder how those photos could have been taken, I had no recollection of a photographer, but then I had only a hazy recollection of the acts themselves, when he took the photos from me and placed them back into the briefcase.
“I rather think your husband would enjoy our little scrapbook, don’t you think?” he replied sweetly sitting down on the sofa next to me. I tried to get up but he restrained me with a hand to my shoulder.
“Or your boss, your family, why I bet I could sell these for a bit of money to a men’s magazine or some internet site,” he mused, ” You really are beautiful. A real, classy type and such a body. Guys love looking at you classy types behaving like the whores that you really are. It was so nice of you to sign a model’s release.” He added a legal document to the pile I was holding. I don’t know how, but there was my signature, or a good fake, there at the bottom. “Looks like grounds for a divorce to me, hell, I bet you’d lose a custody case too. No judge would give custody to a slut whore who does porn.”
I crumpled, burying my face into my hands and crying. He smiled, knowing he had me.
“Now, now Robin,” he soothed, “There’s no need to worry. No one ever need see these if you just do as I say.”
Yeah, right, and the check’s in the mail I thought, but I was ready to grasp at any lifeline at that point, no matter how tenuous.
“What do you want me to do,” I mumbled.
“First, stop crying. Go into the bathroom and fix your make-up,” he commanded gently.
I still can’t believe I meekly did as he asked. Normally I’m stubborn as hell. I guess I was in shock and happy to have some concrete task to focus on. I just did as he said and went to the bathroom to clean up. I normally wear little make-up to work. This was the summer and I already had a bit of a tan so I had just put on a little eye shadow. It didn’t take me long to repair the damage done by the tears. I took an extra minute to regain my composure and resolved not to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing me cry again.
I returned to the room feeling a bit more self confident. It rapidly fled when I saw him setting up a video camera on a tripod.
“What the hell is that for?” I asked, blustering a little to hide my growing despair.
“I’ll be just a minute…..there…..all set,” he said brightly turning towards me. “Ah, beautiful as I remember.”
“I asked what that was for,” I repeated.
“And I though I remembered our agreeing that you were going to shut up and do as I say so hubby and the world at large won’t get to see what a good fuck you are,” he replied brightly. “I’ve got the stills, now I want some video, then we’ll see where we go from there. Now, stand over there,” he said gesturing to the center of the room. “You look absolutely beautiful, your husband is one lucky guy,” he added framing me in the viewfinder. “I love that dress.”
“No,” I replied. “You can’t make me do this. I’ll tell my husband. He loves me. He’ll believe me. I don’t know why I came here.” I turned and started for the door.
“Stop,” he commanded, the word ringing with authority. “Does your son love you too?”
I turned slowly, “What does he have to do with this.”
“It would be a shame if anything ever happened to him, wouldn’t it,” he observed.
“Are you threatening my family?” I hissed.
“No, of course not!” he replied, mock indignant. “It’s just, well, this is a dangerous world and all kinds of things can happen to kids. I mean, hey, he’s at daycare all day, Elm St. right?” He smiled.
I went cold inside.
“You’re surprised I know where he goes to daycare? You’ll find I know a lot of things. I’m very well connected and I’ve done my homework.” He bragged, pulling another, fairly thick, file from his briefcase. “It’s amazing what you can get nowadays. Medical records, school transcripts, credit reports, work history, it’s all there if you know where to look. For example,” he said, opening the file and reading, “Your most recent medical records: ‘Patient presents for an HIV test. Patient relates a history of an unprotected sexual encounter.'” He looked up at me, “Tsk, tsk, naughty girl!” He went back to reading from the report, “‘Patient has been in a monogamous relationship for five years prior to the recent encounter. Patient became sexually active at age nineteen with four partners prior to her husband. No history of STD. Recent PAP normal. Examination reveals normal, healthy, female genitalia consistent with status one para, one grava. No visible signs of STD. Bloodwork done and will be sent for full battery of tests.’ Ahh,” he looked up, “happily an addendum to the report indicates all tests were negative. What a relief.” He closed the file. “You see Robin, I know all about you. I know who you are, what you do and even when you do it. If you go to the police, I’ll know that too and you’ll pay. I am far from a one man operation and we are very well connected.”
“But why are you bothering me!” I blurted, frustrated and angry. “I mean I’m nobody! I’m not some pretty young kid. I’m a mother for God’s sake, I’ll be thirty in two months!”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” he smirked. “One; you are a very attractive woman. Two; you present yourself well. You have excellent taste in clothes, you are articulate and intelligent. Those are attractive qualities. Finally; while you are not ‘a kid’ as you put it, you are still young, you are in excellent shape and a matured but still young ‘woman’, as opposed to ‘girl’ has a great appeal to many men.”
“But, what do you want from me?” I asked.
“That’s easy,” he answered, “anything I want. Understand this;” he pointed at me, “you are mine now, my property. I’ll let you have your own life, but when I call you, you will come and while you are with me, you will do whatever I say until I dismiss you. If you fail to come, of if you displease me in any way, I will destroy your life and take away everything you love. Can you understand that?”
I was devastated. I have never felt so totally powerless in my life. Weakly I asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“You can start by standing in the middle of the room, like I said.”
I went. He got behind the camera and pointed it at me. “Subject is Robin Delany, twenty-nine years old. She looks absolutely lovely in her little black dress, Gucci?” he asked.
“Dior,” I replied numbly. I had on a sleeveless black silk dress, simply cut with a squared neckline and a hem about an inch above my knee. It was summer and I was tan so I had skipped the nylons and had on black Prada sling backs with a two inch heel.
“Yep, beautiful dress. Take it off.” he commanded. I could see the red light on the camera showing it was on. I guess I didn’t move fast enough as he repeated, “I said, take – it – off.”
I could feel tears welling in my eyes again as I turned my back to him and reached behind me for the zipper.
“No, face me,” he insisted.
I turned to face my tormentor and reached behind me to unzip my dress, the zipper loud in the stillness of the room. I pulled my arms through, but held the dress up in front of me.
“Drop it,” he ordered.
I did. The dress puddled at my feet leaving me standing there in my panties, bra and heels. I had on one of those designer push-ups, you know, the ones that make the most of your assets, black with matching bikini panties.
“Very nice,” Jack purred. “You really have excellent taste in clothes. Now remove the bra please.”
I reached behind me once again and unhooked my bra. I slipped it over my shoulders and let it drop. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cringe. The cool air made my nipples crinkle up and he laughed. I saw him fumble with the camera and it made a low ‘wrrring’ noise. The pig was zooming in on my tits.
“Beautiful. C cups I believe?” he said. Very lovely, quite perky, they really jut right out there, don’t they. Hardly any droop. Quite firm too as I remember. You like the nipples bitten as I recall.”
I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“The panties please,” he commanded.
I was dreading this part. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down over my hips. They slid down my legs to the floor.
“Ho ho!” he cried. “What happened to that lovely brown bush?”
I had shaved for summer. I always did. I didn’t want anything showing at the sides of my bathing suit and it made a nice little treat for my husband. We were going away for the weekend tomorrow right from work. I had just waxed so any irritation would be gone by the weekend. I saw him pan the camera down to my crotch.
“Nice job! No five-o-clock shadow for you Robin. You really are a classy slut, aren’t you. This is going to work out just fine. Now, turn around for me. Slowly.”
I kicked the discarded clothing aside so I wouldn’t get caught up in it and fall. I began to turn for him. I heard him dictating for the camera again. “Subject Robin Delany. Twenty-nine year old, Caucasian female. Hair; brown, eyes; blue. Height; five feet, six inches. Weight; one hundred twenty-two pounds at last physical. Married, mother of one. No scars, blemishes or other disfiguring marks. Measurements; thirty-six C, twenty-three, thirty-four. Dress size; four. Shoe size; eight.”
I wondered what the narrative was about. I finished my turn and he motioned me to stop. I stood there facing him as he finished his monologue.
“Subject is college educated and intelligent. She is free from sexually transmitted diseases and is on oral birth control. She is in good health, a non-smoker and drinks socially. She does not use recreational drugs.”
He looked up and put the camera on pause, well, at least the red light went out. He smiled and said, “OK babe, time for your close up. Lie down on the sofa an open your legs.”
“What?” I asked, incredulously.
He looked at me. “You’ve been so good up until now, don’t ruin it. We’re almost done here. Just do as I say and it will be over soon with no one getting hurt.”
I realized I had no choice so I lay down on the large sofa. He got behind the camera and the red light came on. I saw him focus the lens between my legs.
“Open up,” he commanded.
I opened my legs.
“Bring your knees up and open wider.”
I felt tears of humiliation and anger building in my eyes, but I did as he said. He began narrating again.
“Close-up of subject Delany. You will note her pubic hair is completely shaven. Normally it is dark brown and kept groomed. Subject has smooth Labia Majora, small, smooth Labia Minora and a small clitoris. Color is a healthy, pale pink darkening slightly at the anus.” He shifted his attention to my face. “Open yourself up.”
I scowled at him but complied, reaching down and placing a hand on either side of my pussy, I opened myself like those pictures you see in men’s magazines. He resumed dictating.
“Subject’s clitoris is now visible with the hood pulled back, small and white. Her vaginal opening appears to be small. I can personally attest to it being tight with excellent vaginal muscle tone. Subject is sexually responsive and multi-orgasmic. Anal sphincter tone has not been tested at this time.”
The red light on the camera went off and he said, “OK, we’re done with this. You can get up now.”
I got to me feet and reached for my clothes. He snapped, “Did I tell you to get dressed slut?”
I froze. “I…you, you said we were done.”
“I said we were done with this. I didn’t say I was done with you.”
“What, I suppose you want to fuck me now?” I demanded, trying to sound tough.
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?” I asked, confused.
“I mean you’re going to fuck someone, just not me,” he replied.
My equilibrium was gone at this point. I must have stared at him like a deer caught in headlights because he laughed at my confusion.
“In the bedroom,” he said, gesturing to the closed door I had noticed earlier, “is the gentleman you are going to fuck. He’s seen your pictures and has been watching you on camera here,” he gestured to the video camera. I noticed wires running from it to what looked like VCR. I assumed it must be some kind of closed circuit set up. I shivered. “He is very interested in making your acquaintance. You will go in there and you will fuck his brains out. What’s more, you will act like he’s the best lay you’ve ever had. I don’t care if you hate it and loath him, he better think you’re totally hot for him. If he doesn’t report that he is totally satisfied with your performance, you will suffer for it, or should I say, your family will.”
I fought back the tears. “I thought…”
“You thought I wanted you as my little fuck toy. Well, sometimes I might. Other times you’re a business investment, like tonight. This video,” he said, holding up the tape he had just removed from the camera, “will be going into our catalogue. Clients who find you attractive may request your services. I will promise you I take care of my investments. You will never be given to a client who is diseased or who will damage you. Beyond that, you belong to me and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with you. If that means having an entire football team gangbang you until you pass out, then you better make them think it’s the best fucking experience you’ve ever had.” He laughed, “Hell, you’re a hot piece of ass, you probably won’t have to fake it at all, but if you do, I want an Oscar winning performance.”
Stunned, I could no longer hold back my tears. They flowed freely down my face.
“Now, now Robin. How are you going to convince the client you’re having fun if you’re crying?” He smiled, pure evil, “Well, today you’re in luck. You see, the gentleman in the other room knows this is your first time. He’s a very special friend of mine, you might say a business associate. He often helps me break in new girls. He doesn’t mind a few tears, actually I think he likes them. He will, however, be grading your performance so you’d better not be a dead ass in bed. I will get a full report, and if he is less then satisfied, well…. Now, let’s not keep our friend waiting.”
I blinked back my tears and looked toward the door. I approached it slowly, the portal to hell. I felt supremely stupid, standing there in my birthday suit and a pair of heels so I opened the door. A man stood there, facing away from me, looking out the window. He was older, I guessed mid sixties. That surprised me, why I don’t know, I guess I thought he would be more my age. He was short, it was hard to tell, but he looked like he was only a few inches taller them myself. His hair was white and thin, but he was not bald. It was expensively styled. He wore a long, white terrycloth robe, the kind the hotel supplies with the room. He said nothing nor did he turn around so I stepped inside. The door closed behind me.
I waited, standing there. He continued to ignore me. I actually got annoyed at that, I mean here I was, naked, his to ravish and this dirty old bastard was ignoring me! I don’t know, I suppose I expected to be slammed on the bed by some slavering pervert. I certainly didn’t expect indifference. I strangled a little snort at the absurdity of it all.
He spoke without turning, “An ability to see the humor in adversity is a useful survival skill. It indicates a strong will.”
I knew that voice, that husky rasp. I thought the last hour had used up my capacity for shock, but I found out how wrong I was when the man turned to face me. I recognized him as a business associate of my Uncle Charles, a partner in his prestigious law firm. I had known this guy for years. If this was an indication of the level of ‘connections’ Jack had then I knew I was in deep trouble. ‘Uncle Harry’ here was plugged in at every level in this state, his finger in every pie. He knew where all the proverbial bodies were buried. My face must have betrayed my emotions.
“You seem surprised to see me Robin.”
“I…you’re involved with this? Behind this?” I stammered.
“Involved? Yes. Behind your ‘selection’? No. That was merely a fortunate coincidence.”
He sauntered over to me, circling me at arms length. Inspecting me like a piece of meat.
“You were always an attractive girl, I’m glad for the chance to get a better look at you. You look wonderful without your clothes. I’m so glad the baby didn’t ruin your figure, so many women let themselves go to hell after they’ve had a baby. You would never even know you’ve had one from looking at you.”
“But why are you involved in this?” I pleaded. “I mean it’s not like there’s anything wrong with you. You have no trouble getting women.” Harry was older, true, but he had aged exceedingly well. He was a handsome man to start and age had given him ‘character’. He was widowed and did have the reputation of being a ‘ladies man’. He always had some new, younger, woman on his arm whenever I saw him.
“Well thank you for that, I’ll take it as a complement. No, I have no trouble getting women to go to bed with me. That has nothing to do with this.” He stopped his inspection and stood in front of me. “What I enjoy, even more then sex, is power. The ability to do this,” he reached out and grabbed my left nipple, twisting it hard. I gasped. “The ability to force someone to my will. To take what is not freely offered, that is why I do this.” He twisted harder. I bit my lip as tears sprang up in my eyes again. “You see dear Robin, it’s all about power.” He leaned over and licked a tear off my cheek. I repressed a shudder. “I can do anything I want to you, and you have to accept it. This lovely body of yours is my toy for the afternoon, for whatever afternoon I want it. That gives me power. Power over you, power over your uncle. I can see him at the office and know I’m using his little nice as my fuck toy. Power over your husband, taking what is his in a way he never can. Power.”
God help me I was getting turned on. There has to be a sick side of me I didn’t know existed. Here I was, totally helpless, about to be used by this perverted individual and I felt my pussy starting to tingle.
“So, let’s get started,” he said opening his robe. He was naked underneath. His body was toned, not what you would expect for a man at the upper end of his sixties. He had little chest hair, what he had was white like the hair on his head as were his pubes. His cock was large but still flaccid. Much larger then my Dave’s, larger in fact then any I had seen outside of some of the porno flicks I had watched on occasion with my husband. I became nervous as to how big it would be erect.
“I want you to suck me. Get me nice and hard,” he commanded.
I hesitated for a moment, and then, remembering Jack’s threats to my family, bent to take him in my mouth. “On your knees.”
I knelt before him. His big cock was uncircumcised. I had never seen an uncut cock before and wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. I closed my eyes and took it in my mouth. It tasted salty, different from my husband’s. I began to suck gently, licking the underside with my tongue as Dave liked me to do. Shortly I felt it begin to thicken, elongate. I began to suck harder. It came to me that if I made him cum this way, I might get out of having to do anything else to him. He soon grew long enough that I could not fit the entire length of him in my mouth at once. I started to fuck his now firm cock with my mouth. I tried to swirl my tongue around the head, but his foreskin was in the way. I used my hand on his shaft to pull the skin back, exposing the fat, pink head. My hand served double duty in keeping him from jamming his cock down my throat; he was rocking his hips now, taking more of an active part in the act, his hands on my head.
“Massage my balls,” he ordered.
Whatever, I thought. I’m gonna make you blow old man and then I’m free. I grabbed his balls with my other hand. They were big, heavy, pendulous. I began to squeeze them gently, rolling them around in my hand. I tasted salty wetness at the tip of his prick and mentally smiled. It wouldn’t be long now.
Abruptly he pushed my head away. His dick throbbed in front of me and for a moment I thought he meant to cum on my face, but no such luck. He took a few deep breaths and his cock stopped throbbing but stayed hard and huge.
“Very nice,” he purred. “You’re quite the little cock sucker Robin, but you didn’t think I’d want to end this that quickly, did you?” He laughed, fully aware of my intent. “This is going to be fun. Lay on the bed and open you legs. I want to taste you.”
Resigning myself, I lay back on the king sized bed and looked at the ceiling.
“You can take those shoes off,” he said. “I appreciated the look while you were standing there, but they seem a little ridiculous now.”
Mechanically, I kicked off my shoes. They went thump as they hit the floor.
“Hmm, not being very enthusiastic, are we? Well, I’ll let that slide, for now, as a reward for some of the best head I’ve had in a while.” I felt the bed sag as he climbed up on it. I continued to look at the ceiling. If you stared hard enough, you could see patterns.
“Let’s take a good look here,” I felt his hands pushing my knees apart. “I love how you young girls shave your pussies. When I was your age, a nice girl like you would never even think to do something like that.” I felt his hands, surprisingly gentle after the mauling he gave my tit, opening me up. “Why, you already seem a little damp Ms. Robin,” he teased. “Don’t tell me you’re not quite as indifferent as you seem? Well, you have a beautiful cunt, let’s see how you taste.”
I twitched as I felt the first probing touch of his tongue on my sex. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to think of something else, anything else. He used light little flickers against my lips. Butterfly light. He was good. I tried to think of doing dishes. I hate doing dishes. He used those light quick darts to open my lips. He started slowing them down. Feather light strokes up and down my lips, stopping just below my clit. I felt thick, heavy between my legs. Laundry. I really hate laundry. Long, slow swoops from my hole, up one side, across the hood of my clit and down the other alternating with figure eight’s over the same path. Fuck the laundry. I tried to fight it, but my hips began to rock and my breathing deepen.
He began to press harder with his tongue. I don’t know how he did it, but he seemed to know just when to change tempo and just where to press. He moved upwards, concentrating more on my clit. I felt him use his hands to spread me open, pull my folds back. The tip of his tongue stabbed my exposed clit and caused me to gasp, the first sound I had uttered since lying back on the bed. As if that were his cue, he sucked on my exposed organ and plunged a thumb into my wet hole. I groaned and balled the sheet in my hands. I could feel him smiling against my cunt and I fought all the harder to stop my traitorous body from responding to him, but he was just too good. I got angry and, perversely, that heightened my arousal. He slipped a second thumb in me, licking my clit and sucking my lips into his mouth, his knobby digits feeling like, yet nothing like, a cock fucking me as he licked.
I knew I was going to cum. I fought hard against it. I tried to detach, to think of other things. I delayed it but the delay served only to intensify the pleasure his tongue and fingers were giving me. Finally, the bastard bit down, lightly, on my clit and I exploded. Bucking my hips into the air I screamed wordless release. My inner muscles pulsed with such force I could literally hear my cunt squishing with each pulse. My entire body twitched with each spasm, emitting little yelps of pleasure with each convulsion.
For a timeless eternity I came, all coherent thought banished, until finally my surroundings and my predicament slowly returned to me. I opened my eyes, and had to blink away the blurring, I had squeezed them that tightly together. I looked down to see him sitting between my legs, stroking my thigh, a Cheshire Cat smile plastered to his wet face.
“You taste wonderful, as I expected. Your body is a wonderful instrument, you should be proud of it.”
My body was a fucking traitor and I was pissed about it.
“Let’s play some more,” he smirked, climbing up and over me.
I looked down and saw him aim his cock at my hole. I felt panicked, he was huge, at least ten, eleven inches and thick. I had never had a really large cock before, Dave is, I suppose, average as were all of my previous lovers. I had never felt the need for anything bigger then that and was afraid I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Well, sure, I had given birth and that was a lot bigger then even this monster cock, but the experience wasn’t what you would call ‘pleasant’. I knew it would FIT, my concern was how much it would HURT.
The answer was; a fair amount. I guess I’m kind of small down there, at least that’s what Dave and a few of my former lovers said. I felt Harry position the head of his cock against my opening and then begin to press inwards. I can’t describe the sensation, it was like, just when I thought I was full, along came more cock. I felt myself stretch, painfully, and let out an involuntary whimper as he invaded my body. Just when I was afraid I couldn’t take anymore, I felt him hit the back of my vagina and he stopped.
“My God, Jack was right. You are fucking tight,” Harry gasped. He lay still for a moment and my cunt seemed to get used to the huge intruder, at least the slight pain went away. Slowly he withdrew his big tool, almost all the way out of me. He propped himself up on his elbows and, smiling into my face, slid it all the way in again until the head thumped up against the back of my cunt and his balls slapped my ass.
He did it again, and again, establishing a slow, regular rhythm. A fucking metronome. At first I hoped he just climax and get it over with, but once again my body began to betray me. I had never been so full. Why the fuck won’t he just cum? He’s a goddam machine, pistoning away, grinning at me. There was no question that with each in and out my stretched lips pulled the hood back and forth over my clit. I was already sensitive from one killer orgasm so it was not long before my body was moving of it’s own volition to meet his strokes. His smile grew lopsided, sardonic as he saw my eyes begin to glaze over. I felt my excitement build, much more rapidly then I was used to so that after a very few more strokes I was ready to cum again.
I wrapped my arms around him and drew up my knees as I dug my fingers into his shoulders.
“Unnnnnnh!” I moaned as I threw my head back, cumming, cumming onto his cock.
Quick as a weasel, he pulled out of my pulsating cunt, positioned his now soaked monster against my virgin asshole and abruptly rammed it in. I was slick and soaked from my juices so thank goodness nothing tore, but the pain was indescribable. I screamed as my eyes flew open, bugging out. He pinched my clit and unbelievably I came again, or maybe the orgasm I was having got more intense, I don’t know. I do know the sensation of intense pain and unbelievable pleasure blew my mind. I yelped, I screamed, I moaned, I came like I have never cum before, or since for that matter. It was as if all of the tension, all of the fear, all of the stimulation of the last few hours conspired to give me this one, mind numbing experience. It broke over me like a tsunami and crested yet again as I heard him let out a low moan and felt his hot seed jet into my ass. He pumped and I squeezed his cock with my ass, wanting to milk every bit of sensation out of this experience.
All to soon the pleasure faded, leaving soreness in it’s wake. Harry pulled his, now softer but still huge, cock out of my ass and I let out a little “Ah!” as it popped free. I could feel is sperm leaking out of my abused hole, I must have been as big as a truck tunnel back there after that pounding. My ass was sore, my cunt was sore and I think I had hurt my back a little from spasming. All in all I felt great. Guilty as hell, angry at being manipulated, determined to get out of this somehow, but great.
“I think I can give you a good review for that performance, my dear,” Harry spoke. “I think Jack had planned on ‘sloppy seconds’ with you, but I think you’ve done enough. It’s getting late and I wouldn’t want your husband getting too suspicious.”
I felt a huge stab of guilt at the mention of Dave.
“We will be in touch, or at least Jack will. Don’t think this was your one and only performance,” he warned, getting up and putting on his robe. “It won’t be often and we’ll make sure you get clearance from work.” I wondered how they would manage that but I didn’t ask as I was afraid to find out. “It would be best for you, for your family, if you didn’t discuss this with anyone. You may use the shower here.” He started to leave the room but paused at the door, “Oh,” he added, “keep the pussy shaved.” He left, closing the door behind him.
I took him up on his offer of the shower. I took a nice long one, scrubbing the feel of him off of me, or at least trying to. I still tingled from what he did to me. When I finished the shower, both men were gone. My dress was hung in the bedroom closet, my undies arraigned neatly on the bed. My shoes were where I had left them on the floor.
I got dressed and went home. I lied sweetly to my husband, telling him the day was routine. I played with my son and tried to be normal, but I couldn’t. It’s been three weeks. I have not heard from Jack or Harry. I don’t know if that’s a relief or a disappointment. I hate to admit it, but it’s both.
The phone rings from it’s cradle on the wall. I answer with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation.