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From: Malinov <malinov@mindless.com>
Subject: {ASS} The Trap Door by Lord Malinov
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The Trap Door
by Lord Malinov
~~~
I had been dating Brenda for seven months, fairly seriously and more
so every day. I slept over at her place as often as three times a
week, while Brenda spent almost as many nights wrapped in the warm
embrace of my green down comforter. Tooth brushes, razors and other
sundry personal items had taken up lodging in the romantic embassies
of foreign bathrooms. As a couple, we still only talked about the
future in vague, shadowy terms that welcomed without requiring an
enduring relationship, but we easily recognized what a promising
future we could enjoy together. Brenda constantly struck me as
beautiful, considerate and fun. I don't know what more I could have
wanted.
It was a Saturday in November. I had spent the early part of the
afternoon doing some catch up work from the office and taking care of
my weekly house chores. I remember I stopped to watch the
gusty north air whip through the bare branches of the oak wind
break from my dining room window. The sun shone with crystalline
brilliance, making the browned field look almost balmy, although the
crisp cold air clearly lacked the haziness a hot summer day would
require.
The phone rang. I picked it up the receiver.
"Hello," I said, my voice rich with the jovial tones of weekend.
"Ted, my friend," a deep male voice said.
"Hey, Ivan," I said, recognizing Ivan's distinctive greeting.
"You are well?"
"It's Saturday and the office is closed. I can't do much better."
"Yes," said Ivan, "you finished with the Sander's file?"
"Gratis Deo," I said, crossing myself. "I dotted the last eye on my
report just before lunch."
"Good," said Ivan. "There is much to do before Wednesday, still."
"I'll give you the file back on Monday, unless you want me to drop it
by your place."
"It would be better to work on the report, but no trouble is
necessary for you. I can come to get the papers."
"No," I said, "I'm on my way out and I probably won't be home again
before tomorrow night."
"Your girl?"
"Yeah," I said, "Brenda and I are going up to Lennory this evening to
see her aunt or something."
"Brenda is very beautiful," Ivan counselled. They had met at the
Labor Day picnic a few months before. Whenever Brenda's name came
up, Ivan reminded me of her beauty.
"You live down by the office, don't you?" I asked.
"Yes, but it would be better if you would give the file to Shelley.
She needs to get started on the May schedule. You could also go
over the figures Hank gave you with her. I think that would make her
work go much smoother."
"Sure," I said, counting hours before Brenda and I were supposed to
be dining in rural Virginia. "I've got enough time. Is Shelley
still over on Dresden Court?"
"Yes, she gets the apartment very cheaply. She won't move until she
gets married, I think. Shelley said she would be home this
afternoon and is expecting the file."
"Well, all right Ivan. I'll drop the report off on my way to
Brenda's place."
"Thank you, Ted. Enjoy your visit to Brenda's family."
"Thanks, Ivan. See you Monday."
The file sat on my planter, the glow of the buzzing grow light making
the stained pine surface almost mystical as it held the Sander's
papers. I tossed a load of clothes in the circular dryer door and
pressed the start button, starting a whining whir marked by the
intermittent clang of a damp basketball shoe as it fell hard against
the rotating aluminum drum. Going into my bedroom, I pulled out a
gym bag and shoved some shorts and socks for the morning into the
limp depths of the empty nylon pack. I found a clean t-shirt and
tossed it over to my bed. I picked up Brenda's brush from the
bathroom sink and shoved it, with the shirt, into the bag.
Throwing the strap of the overnight over my shoulder, I stole my
keys and wallet from my dresser top. I picked up the telephone and
without a thought for the numbers, I dialled Brenda.
"Bren," I said as the receiver clicked.
"Hey, Ted," she answered in a playful, seductive voice. I had been
looking forward to this weekend since Monday. Hearing Brenda tease
me gave me goose bumps.
"All packed?" I asked.
"Almost," said Brenda. "I need to drop by the mall and get some
hose. I wanted to stop by L'Amours and see if I can't get a
manicure, if I have time."
"No problem,"I said. "Ivan wants me to drop this file off at
Shelley's so she can waste her weekend working on it."
"But you're finished, right?" Brenda had been concerned that I would
try to cancel this trip to see her aunt. To be honest, I didn't care
much for talking to her aging relatives, but we were going to stop
off at the Piccolo Inn and spend the night with a hot tub and a large
king sized bed. I would endure a dozen hours of biscuits and old
stories to get to that melodic paradise.
"I just need to sit down with Shelley for half an hour and explain
some of the figures. Then I'm clear and away."
"Great," said Brenda. "So how long?"
"I should be over in an hour to pick you up. How will that work?"
"I'll go to the mall now, get my nails done and I should finish
packing just as you get here."
"What are you going to wear?" I asked, anxious to start the
recreation.
"Me? I don't know. Jeans and a sweater, I guess."
"It's a long drive. You could wear your skirt."
"Yeah, I suppose I could," Brenda said.
"You remember when we went to the beach and you wore a skirt and I
told you naughty stories while we drove and you . . . ." Brenda had
pulled off her panties and masturbated while I talked dirty. My
prick ached and I kept sneaking peeks at her trim little bush and the
pink bulge of her clitoris. I had never seen Brenda play with
herself before and my stories grew nastier. When I told her
about the night when one of my friends had spanked his girlfriend
while we all watched until she came, Brenda put her foot up on the
dash, spreading her wet swollen pussy lips gaping wide with busy
fingers. I described squeals of the big assed sorority girl as Rick
told her she was bad while we all sat watching and Brenda shoved two
fingers into her gleaming hole. I nearly drove off the road as I
listened to her ecstatic screams.
"Mmm," said Brenda, "I didn't realize you were in such a good mood
today. Maybe I will adjust my wardrobe. You'll have to promise to
keep your eyes on the road this time."
"I wish it were summer," I said, still lost in memories of our last
excursion.
"I don't know," said Brenda. "Winter can be sexy, too."
"Oh, well," I sighed. "I'll see you in an hour."
"Bye, lover," she cooed. I rubbed the bulge in my jeans as I hung up
the phone, my thoughts fixated on Brenda's sweet little cunt spread
wide while the miles rolled away.
"She should suck me while I drive," I said to no one in particular.
I took the file from the pine altar, grabbed my nylon bag and
picked up my shades and in a simple deft motion, I opened, closed and
locked my front door. Then I thought to grab my water bottle and
unlocked, opened, dashed to the faucet and in an evaporated
minute, I locked the front door again. I started my car and hit the
road.
The Dresden Court Apartments stand tall above the Elizabeth River in
the heart of Danville. I had known a few people who lived in those
luxurious units. Rent control keeps them unbelievably inexpensive,
but the location and view makes them doubly impossible to acquire,
absent lottery luck and the timely death of some close relative who
happened to live there. Frank took his place at the Dresden when his
mother's cousin died. I never heard Shelley's story. I should have
asked her. Every door at the Dresden has a story behind it.
I knocked on Shelley's door, not so much in search of a story, but to
drop off the file, explain a few digits and get started on a bawdy
tale of love on the road. No one answered. I knocked again, trying
to figure out my next step if Shelley wasn't home. I looked down
the dim hallway, wondering if it would be safe to leave the stack of
papers by the door. Shelley wouldn't get my insights into Hank's
numbers, but that seemed better than the alternatives. I couldn't
afford to waste much time playing with the file and still make it to
Lennory by dinner time. Ivan was twenty minutes away from Shelley's
and another fifty from Brenda's. I rapped hard on the door,
wondering if I could leave the file at the desk.
"Ted?" said Shelley as she opened her door a crack. I smiled and
held up the Sander's file. Rolling her eyes, she closed the door to
draw the chain and then invited me inside. Shelley wore a white
terry-cloth robe. The apartment reeked of sex.
I'd known Shelley for a few years at that point. She'd been working
in our department since spring, and had accomplished a few miracles
when our company went through a major crisis in July. Once, she'd
pretty much saved our jobs by finding the source of our problems at
four in the morning, six hours before we were due to present the
finished product at CanCon. Shelley didn't usually smile much at the
office and had an evil stare that sometimes really frightened me,
usually because I was to blame for something big, but even
standing over my desk, rapping the wood with the edge of a thick
stack of reports, looming over me in her dull tailored suits,
frowning with her dark hair tied back tight, I liked Shelley.
I had seen Shelley in a t-shirt and shorts at the Labor Day Picnic.
Her boyfriend from Allendale had come down for the holiday. I
remembering being shocked at my first glimpse of Ms. Warring's lean
legs and firm little bottom. An ordinary Victorian fellow, they
say, would get a rise from glimpsing a woman's calf. I understood
that antiquated excitement as I eyed Shelley's creamy thighs and the
straps of her bra through the thin veil of her blouse. I'd watched
women masturbate on the highway, but seeing Shelley out of uniform
struck me as being almost on the same level. Ray, the boyfriend,
quickly stole her away from our bar-b-que shenanigans so they could
make out in the forest. Inspired, I had taken Brenda for a walk and
rolled with her in the bushes.
So, I'm standing in Shelley's apartment holding a blue file folder
over my stomach, cautiously stealing glances of the creamy spots of
flesh between the thick folds of her robe, aware that Shelley was
watching me try not to ogle her, and also aware that her dark eyes
had a sultry gleam.
"I'm sorry," I said as Shelley clutched the edges of the terry-cloth,
trying to wrap the fabric closer. "Ivan asked me to give you this."
"I told him I wouldn't be able to do anything before tomorrow,"
Shelley said.
"I'm on my way out of town," I explained. "He wanted me to explain
Hank's numbers before I left. They're kind of tricky." Shelley
frowned, an expression I am used to seeing, strangely making me feel
more comfortable.
"All right," she said. "Can you give me ten minutes? I'm on the
phone. Fix yourself a drink." Shelley pointed into her kitchen as I
nodded my assent. "Ten minutes," she said, dashing off to a room in
the back. I checked my watch. I still had plenty of time.
Opening her refrigerator, I learned a few new things about Shelley
Warring. She doesn't drink beer or soda, but only sparkling water
and skim milk. An almost finished carton of grapefruit juice sat
lonely in the rack of the door. I untwisted the cap of a transparent
bottle of water and wondered why I hadn't just found a glass and
took my water from the tap, like I did at home. I drank a swig.
Water was water. I returned to the front room and sat down.
Shelley's place showed more character than her office does, but given
how little she expresses herself at work, it would necessarily
follow. A small statue of a orange and white cat played with an
imagined butterfly atop a glass shelf. A pair of peacock feathers
rising out of a tall vase stood sentry by the window. A romance
novel with a torn cover nestled on the coffee table. I picked it up
and noticed the gleam in the eye of the buxom wind-swept lassie as
she prepared to kiss her rugged hero. I smiled. Shelley had opened
the door with exactly that same look on her face.
I gently caressed the blue eye of a huge bird feather and looked at
the tugs slowly gliding up river, the lines of their wake spreading
from shore to shore. I checked my watch. Time was running out.
I drifted back to the kitchen, where I took a peek into a cupboard
filled with dry goods and kept moving until I reached the hallway
Shelley had dashed along. I looked at my watch again. I thought
about calling out that I had to be leaving, that I would be back
Sunday evening and I could tell her about Hank's numbers then. I
took another step. Then I heard Shelley speak.
"Mmm," she began, "I could. He's still out in the front room. You
wouldn't. I couldn't. I work with him."
I spied the bathroom ahead and decided to justify my approach with a
natural duty. "You don't buy water, you rent it," I imagined telling
Shelley and took another step forward.
"I'm going crazy, Ray," Shelley said with a squeal. I took another
step. "Oh, fuck, you bastard. You would like that, wouldn't you?"
I advanced. The doors at the end of the hallway were a crack open.
"Here he comes," she said. I froze. "He's taking off his pants,
Ray. Mmm, look at that thick cock." And although I stood well out
of sight, my prick throbbed large within the tight confines of my
jeans.
"Absolutely," said Shelley. "He's here right now, grinning like a
son of a bitch. You like my pussy, Ted? You hear that? Oh, I'd
love to have you lick me."
Trusting the shadows, I slid along the far wall until I could see
into Shelley's room. She lay across her bed, her white robe spread
open beneath her. Shelley rested her head on her backboard, dangling
a bare foot off each side. A thick black snatch of curls rested
above her feverish pussy while a long finger turned a slow circle
around her bright pink clitoris. Big lazy breasts lounged against
her chest. I had never thought much about Shelley's tits. Usually
they were heavily shrouded and kept well out of mind.
"What a strong tongue you have," she cooed. Shelley raised her
bottom off the terry-cloth and frantically teased her button. I
slipped slightly and bumped the wall. Shelley looked through the
doorway and into the shadows. A wicked smile crept over her lips and
Shelley stuck out her tongue while she continued to rub at her lifted
pussy.
"Lick my cunt," she said. My eyes opened wide. "Please," she
moaned, spreading her creamy legs wider, staring hard into my eyes.
I took the last step into Shelley's bedroom door. I yanked my jeans
down and knelt at the footboard of her bed. I pressed my tongue deep
into the dank pit of her pussy. Shelley squealed and shuddered
wildly at my touch.
"Oh, oh, oh," she moaned into the phone. I licked the furry length
of her swollen lips and teased her stiff clit. "Oh Ray, he's got his
tongue in my cunt. I'm going to come on his face." I looked up and
smiled, squeezing Shelley's firm butt in my hands.
"Yeah, the picnic guy. Fucking his girlfriend in the bushes. I told
you he was cool. Shit, he's got a mean tongue, Ray. He's sucking my
clitty. Fuck, I'm going to come. He's sucking my clitty deep." I
was, rather mercilessly. Brenda wouldn't let me tease her too
intensely when I eat her. I saw no reason to be so coy with Shelley.
"Teddy, Teddy, Teddy," she said, pushing my face into her wet crotch.
I pinched her fleshy behind hard and slowly let a finger slide up
her asshole while my tongue lashed strong down her slick lips.
Shelley flinched and screamed. "Oh, God, Ray," she said as she tried
to cool down. "He's fucking my ass." I responded by driving my
finger deep into her, licking madly as I did. Shelley arched her
back.
"Yes, yes, yes," she said, her lusty dark eyes staring, catching and
holding mine. "Fuck me, Ted." The fire in her voice made my cock
pulsate with eager anticipation. I withdrew my finger and sat up.
Shelley rolled at once, inverting her pussy and lifting her ass high.
I took my place behind her carefully and slowly slid my throbbing
shaft into her dripping pussy.
"Fuck, Ray, a big hard dick in my cunt, so hard, so deep, yes." I
rocked a steady pace into Shelley, holding onto her firm ass to pull
her back against me.
"What a hot bitch," I yelled, fucking Shelley hard.
"Cock. Stud. Bastard. Fuck."
"C'mon Shelley," I said, reaching down to squeeze her big hanging
tit. "Tell him you want my prick."
"Oh, I want his prick."
"Hot fuck." I pushed Shelley onto her side and as she spewed a
string of filthy words into the telephone, I sprayed my prick's
potion over her blushed chest. "Fuck," I moaned as I fell back onto
the bed.
I don't remember the next few minutes at all, although I think it
safe to assume that Shelley hung up the phone and put her robe back
on. My consciousness had drifted into a peaceful slumber.
"C'mon soldier," a more serious Shelley said, shaking me by the
arm. "Time to get dressed and go home." I pulled myself up,
fixed my jeans and checked my watch.
"Shit," I said. "I have to get Brenda."
"All right," said Shelley, following me toward the door. "Leave the
file with me and we'll go over Hank's numbers when we get a chance."
"Tomorrow night?" I said.
"Sure, lover," said Shelley with a shy smile and quick kiss. I
pulled on my jacket and ran out the door.
I don't know what I was thinking. I drove to Brenda's place and
knocked on the door. Brenda took one look at me, still smiling and
threw her arms around me. The pleasure of that final embrace lasted
all of three seconds.
"Bastard," she screamed, slamming her door shut. In a sudden still
moment, I caught a whiff of the musky scent that had sent Brenda into
such an immediate rage. I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't
listen. I still wonder if I could have made her understand. That it
wasn't my fault. I was trapped.
~~~
Malinov
--
Power belongs to those who dare. . . Sapere Aude
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