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Archive name: unfair.txt (MF, rp)
Authors name: Marcia R. Hooper (marciar26@aol.com)
Story title : Unfair Trade

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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
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Thank you for your consideration.
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Unfair Trade
by Marcia R. Hooper (marciar26@aol.com)

***

Krysti has an unwelcome night visitor. (MF, rp)

***

Based on the Short Story:

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
by krystyl251

First Published on Literotica.com, 1998
Used by Permission of the Author

I got home late that night. I was very tired. I 
unlocked the door and went straight through the 
apartment to the bedroom, not bothering to close the 
blinds first or to pull the drapes. All I wanted was to 
fall into my bed and go to sleep. Along the way, doing 
a striptease for whatever neighbor might be up at two 
a.m., I arrived in the bedroom completely naked. 

"Murphy?" I called out. "Where are you, boy?"

I looked under the bed, behind the curtains, inside the 
walk-in closet, but found no cat. Then, as I pulled a 
nightshirt out of my dresser drawer, there was a rustle 
behind me on the bed and, despite knowing exactly what 
it was, I jumped and gave a little yip. It was the cat.

"Murphy!" I admonished him savagely. "You scared me!" 

Pulling the nightshirt on over my head--then removing 
it again and turning it rightside out--I joined Murphy 
on the bed and stroked his back. "I really should get 
up and close the bedroom blinds," I confessed to him. 
Like all the other blinds in the place, were wide 
opened. "But I'm too lazy."

Murphy purred at me, fixing me with his weird yellow 
eyes, seeming to say that I could prance around naked 
all I wanted to--which is usually what I did--as long 
as I understood the consequences. I had long ago come 
to grips with the fact that I was an exhibitionist, 
and, as a consequence of that fact, that I might 
someday come to trouble for it.

I just didn't expect it that night.

Pulling back the covers and slipping beneath them, I 
set the alarm for eight o'clock, turned off the light, 
and settled against my pillow. I turned on my left side 
as I always do so Murphy could snuggle into the small 
of my back. Perfect, I thought, except for one tiny 
thing. 

No man.

===============================

Was I asleep?

Something had startled me awake, and when I put my hand 
back to check for Murphy's presence, he was gone. 

He jumped off the bed, I thought sleepily, and woke me 
up.

Only that wasn't true. 

Standing beside my bed was the shadow-camouflaged 
figure of a man. I had just gotten a sharp inhalation 
of breath into my lungs when he flung back the covers 
and jumped on top of me. His hand silenced my screams.

"Don't make a fucking sound," he said hoarsely "or I'll 
kill you, understand?"

Terrified, I gave a tiny nod. His other hand was on my 
right breast and squeezing it very tight. Tight enough 
to make me wince. It wasn't until I loosened up and lay 
beneath him, unfighting, that he slackened his grip. 

"That's better," he said. "You all right?"

I had never been less right in my life.

"What are you going to do to me?" I pleaded into his 
hand.

"What?"

I repeated my query.

Again he didn't hear it. Lifting his hand an 
infinitesimal amount, he asked me again.

"Please don't rape me!" I begged.

He laughed. "I'm in your bedroom at three o'clock in 
the morning and I'm not going to rape you?" 

I shook my head. "Don't hurt me, then, okay?" I knew 
I'd be raped. 

He continued fondling my right breast. I thought of the 
open bedroom window to my right. I thought of all the 
open windows in my place. 

Slowly, keeping his eyes locked on mine--they were very 
blue, I decided, beyond the black of his ski mask--he 
let go of my breast and slipped his hand inside the v-
neck of my nightshirt, finding it again. He asked: 
"What size bra do you wear?"

I blinked at him in confusion. My bra size? He wanted 
to know my bra size? "34B," I said. 

"You don't feel like a 34B," he said. "You feel 
smaller."

Well, excuse me, I thought. I'm laying down. And 
stupidly, I felt embarrassed. 

He got off me then, sat straddling my legs, and 
motioned me to sit up.

I struggled into a sitting position. My heart beat very 
fast. When he motioned for me to remove my nightshirt, 
I pulled it over my head, then held it clutched 
defensively in my lap, absolutely petrified. I was 
beginning to shake.

"Drink this," he said, holding out a metal flask. 
"It'll calm you down."

I shook my head no. 

His lips curled into a smile. "Take my word for it," he 
said softly. "I have no intentions of drugging you."

I smelled the flask and decided it smelled like very 
good whiskey. I took a sip and choked.

"Easy," he said, taking the flask away. "It's pretty 
strong stuff."

I coughed half a dozen times into my open hand, then 
coughed harder into them both. Finally, I caught my 
breath. "What is that?" I croaked. 

"West Virginia bootleg whiskey," he said, laughing. 
"You want some more?"

Eyes watering and my nose threatening to run, I shook 
my head no. He cajoled me into another sip.

"Better this time?"

I wiped my mouth. I was so confused. Did all rapists 
offer their victims a drink?

For a time, he just stared at me. Then, reaching out 
with his right hand, he placed it over my left breast, 
and then over my right. Self-consciously, like a 
thirteen year-old dealing with a boyfriend for the very 
first time, I tried to fend him off. 

He laughed again.

"Stop it," I said, feeling more like a thirteen year 
old than ever. 

He took my wrists in his hands and held them apart. My 
breathing was ragged and my heart slammed in my chest. 
My God, I thought. Am I actually getting excited?

"I want you to kiss me," he said.

"Wh--what?" 

"Lean forward and kiss me, Krystal."

I sat there, wrists captured in his hands, heart 
banging in my chest, my ears roaring with blood. I 
wanted to scream but I also wanted to kiss him.

Slowly, closing my eyes, I leaned forward and sought 
his mouth. He kissed me on my lips and I drew back 
again. I opened my eyes. 

"That was nice," he said. "How about another?"

I did, and this time I opened my mouth and we began to 
French kiss. He still had my wrists in his hands and I 
liked that very much. I thought I must be insane. My 
heart was thudding hard and incredibly, between my 
legs, I was becoming wet. I wanted to fuck him.

"I need another drink," I said.

He gave me the flask and I drank half of it down in one 
big gulp. Again he laughed, this time like a man with a 
slightly idiotic, but very passionate lover. Which is 
exactly how I felt.

"I don't want you to rape me," I told him suddenly.

He studied me, replacing the cap on the bottle. "That's 
to be expected," he said slowly. 

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I mean: I don't want 
you to rape me."

He was silent a moment, then said: "What am I supposed 
to do with all this stuff?"

"Stuff?" 

Digging into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt, he 
removed an eye-opening assortment: A pair of chrome-
plated handcuffs, a ball-gag, a device that I 
determined was meant to hold my jaws apart while he 
fucked me in the mouth, a complete set of leather 
restraints for my ankles and wrists, a blindfold, a 
very large black vibrating dildo, anal beads and a 
black leather paddle.

"That's a lot of stuff," was all I could say.

"Yeah."

I was eying--of all the damned things--the black 
leather paddle. It made me want to fidget. "You were 
planning on spanking me?" I asked.

"Only if I had too," he said. Then, as a tease, "I 
still could."

My face got very hot. "Who are you?" I whispered.

He looked pointedly out my bedroom window. I looked out 
it as well. Visible across the parking lot were the 
outlines of two other apartment buildings; a handful of 
lighted windows stared back at us.

"You should really learn to close your bedroom blinds," 
he said. 

My face grew even redder.

We were silent a time, during which my embarrassment 
did anything but diminish. Because, if he had seen 
little Krystal getting her bottom severely reddened 
across some man's knee, then he had seen what had come 
afterwards too.

I finally just asked him. "What is it you want me to 
do?"

He looked over his assortment, some of which I had 
never used. "We could have some fun," he suggested.

"Fun?"

"Fun." he repeated

I leaned forward, picked up the chrome-plated 
handcuffs, and examined them: "These are real?" 

"As real as they get."

"Made just for women?"

"Uh-huh."

I turned them over in my hands. They were the genuine 
article, all right. I know from experience. Once you 
put those scary things on, you can't wait to get them 
off again. Having fun, or no. 

"I'll let you do this to me," I said slowly, 
"willingly, if you'll let me stop when I ask you to."

His crooked little grin resurfaced. "Depends on just 
how bad you want to stop, Krystal."

Not quite believing what I was about to do, twisting at 
the waist, I put my hands behind my back and presented 
him with my wrists. He shackled me up. Immediately, I 
wanted out. 

"Please, sir," I whined pitifully to him, "don't make 
me do this!"

Laughing, he fumbled everything back into his pockets, 
then took my head and brought it down to his lap. 
Unzipping himself while I made pitiful mewling noises, 
he extracted his erect, alarmingly big penis from the 
front of his jeans, and put it in my mouth.

"Mmmmnnnnffffff!" I protested as my mouth went up and 
down his shaft. 

"You know what, bitch," he said in a gruff and 
threatening voice. "I'm going to fuck you in every hole 
you've got!"

If he meant to fill me with fear, he did. With my head 
in his hands, my mouth stretched almost painfully wide, 
being alternately choked and then gasping for air, I 
seriously began feeling raped. If not in reality, then 
in state of mind. I was paralyzed.

"I want you to deep-throat me," he said, letting go of 
my head.

Panting, my mouth still wrapped around his cock, I 
slowly worked myself down. His glans--mercifully small 
compared to other cocks I had sucked--slipped into my 
waiting throat. I forced him in deeper.

"You like this, don't you, Krystal?" he asked. He had 
the sides of my hair swept back from my face so that I 
could see him better. I met his gaze with my left eye 
and grumped my agreement. 

"That's good," he assured me, "because I'm really 
enjoying it too."

He then proceeded to fuck me as deeply and thoroughly 
as he could, keeping me between his hands as he used my 
mouth and my throat until I thought I'd just die. But I 
never said stop. 

Just when it seemed he would come in my mouth, he 
pulled me off his cock and sat me up. I sat there, 
gasping, my mouth a total mess, slobber all over my 
chin and my cheeks. It dripped down onto my chest. When 
I coughed, rivulets of semen and spit flew out of my 
mouth. 

"No, please!" I wanted to protest. Then I did the last 
thing he would ever have expected me too and glued my 
mouth to his.

"Yuuuckkkk!" he exclaimed, pushing me away. He wiped 
his mouth. "Krystal Leigh!"

I just had to laugh.

"Jesus Christ," he spat. Wiping the crap off my face 
with the palm of his hand, he then glued our mouths 
back together and made it a marathon kiss. I began to 
orgasm. When he dragged his mouth away from mine a 
minute later, I didn't want to let him go. I fought to 
get it back.

"No!" I protested loudly. "Don't."

But he had other things in mind. 

Flinging me onto my back, he pushed my legs apart and 
dived on me face-first, like a man in a pie-eating 
contest going down on a blueberry pie. I immediately 
began to warble and come. 

"Oh, God!" I trilled. My eyes were big as china plates 
and so was my mouth. With my feet and head and nothing 
else planted on the mattress, my back arched so deeply 
I thought it would snap like a wishbone, he proceeded 
to put his tongue through me all the way up to my 
mouth. By now my eyes were totally bugged-out and my 
orgasm had gone nuclear. I didn't think I could come 
any harder, but I was wrong.

Levering my rear end in the air, my knees planted right 
beside my earlobes, he attacked my rear end.

"Oh, God!" I wailed. "Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, 
Gooooodddddd!" 

And then he was atop me and in my mouth, his tongue 
gnashing against my own tongue, letting me taste myself 
as he watched me stare at him in disbelief. 

And then he fucked me.

===================================

It was four a.m. and I couldn't move. I was tied to my 
bed, on my stomach. I couldn't talk and something 
foreign was in my ass. 

"Mnnnnuuugnnhhh!" I objected.

"What?" 

I went, "Mnnnnuuugnnhhh!" even louder and shook my 
bottom. 

He stopped what he was doing. "Am I hurting you?" 

"Mnnn-huhhhh!" I answered emphatically. "Ehhh-oooh-
aarrrr."

In my behind he had the very large black dildo, 
vibrating gaily. He was making me take it all, or as 
much of it as I could manage. Right now that felt like 
about two feet.

"I could prop you up more," he said, talking about the 
stack of pillows beneath my hips. I was ass-end in the 
air as it was. I didn't need to be any higher.

"Nnnuuuuhhhh!" I said.

"What then? Should I take it out?"

I shook my head slowly. "Eeebbbb-iiiihhhh-uuhhowwnn," I 
grunted.

"Leave it alone?"

"Yeaaddd."

He left it alone.

Earlier, after deranging me with his tongue, he had 
spread my legs and slipped inside me. I was in a frenzy 
by then, my orgasm a raging inferno. I had never been 
so hot. The instant his erection slid into my vagina 
and began to stretch me out, I arched up against him. 
It hurt, but I didn't give a fuck. I just wanted his 
cock. 

"Fuck me!" I had begged him. "Please, please, fuck me!"

Under his guidance, I planted my feet on the mattress 
and raised my ass. Taking as much weight off me as he 
could, he tucked his chin into the hollow of my neck 
and shoulder, wrapped me about the waist with his arms, 
and basically pile-drove himself in and out of my 
pussy. He had my handcuffed wrists in one hand and my 
ass in the other. I was beyond any sense of propriety 
now--I just wanted to fuck.

"Please!" I whined frantically into his ear. "Please, 
please, please!"

I wore him out. I wore myself out. I never even gave 
him a chance. When he came in me some sixty seconds 
later, I wrapped my legs around his waist and let him 
hold me in the air, filling me with his sperm. It was 
just so fucking wonderful. It was so hot. And now, an 
hour later, I was all tied up, defenseless . . . and 
ready for more.

"That's very, uh. . . sexy," he said, watching my 
wagging ass.

"Iienggg-gaaaa-oooo-iiigg-id," I told him.

"I'm glad you like it, too," he said. He clicked the 
vibrations up one notch.

Somewhere, down in the nether reaches of my severely 
elongated rectum, the dildo vibrated against the ledge 
of my pelvic bone. And that, if you've never 
experienced it before, is very weird. 

And then I woke up.

"Huh?" 

I looked around, confused and hopelessly lost. I was in 
my bedroom, but it was dark, I was alone and the clock 
read three a.m.

"Oh, God," I moaned, turning beneath the covers. It was 
a dream--just a fucking dream. I was still in my bed, 
still in my nightshirt. There was no dildo up my ass, 
no recently deposited sperm in my vagina, no intruder 
to have placed it there. 

"Not fair," I whimpered to the room. "It's just not 
fair."

And then, from across the room, from deep within the 
shadows of the bedroom doorway, rumbled a stranger's 
voice.

"You're absolutely right, Krystal Royer. Life's not 
fair at all."

As I was soon to find out.

THE END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 27