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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Uncut
by Urs (fenrissilvern@yahoo.com)
***
A suburbs soccer-mom gets raped inside her home by two
teenagers from the neigbourhood, no less. (m+/teen/F,
nc, rp, v, voy, intr, bd, huml)
***
Author's Note: This story features sex, violence,
frivolous dialogue, numeruous references to pop-culture
cliches... And chapter titles all consisting of popular
songs titles. Well, popular in my CD player at least.
***
Chapter 1: 'It'll Take Millions In Plastic Surgery To
Make Me Black'
"Strong black characters?" exclaims the man. "Are you
fucking serious? You fucking with me, right?"
"Well... no. I mean, I mean, look at Morpheus," Billy
is taken aback a little by the man's strong reaction,
but decides to prove his point. "He is, like, kind of a
leader there, right? And then there's Niobe and, um,
Dozer, and other black people..."
"Kids these days," says the man, shaking his head in
disbelief, his huge teeth like floodlights. "So you
people listen to hip-hop here and there, you watch a
ball game or two and wear T-shirts with Shaq's face on
them but you're just as easily fooled with the token
negro in your white cinema as your grandparents used to
be. That's nothing to be proud of, son, just so you are
aware."
He looks my way when he says that last part. I
automatically nod in approval.
"Yes, sir." Fuck, I am not arguing that point with
someone to whom pointing a gun at me apparently brings
deep spiritual pleasure. The man is fucked in the head.
Most definitely fucked.
"But, sir," protests Billy. He is either the braver of
us two or just the thicker one. I am quite amazed he
actually seems to be taking this debate seriously while
I am shitting myself. "Morpheus might be the one of the
strongest Afro-American characters in cinema history!"
And again he receives a pitiful smile in return.
"Son, how old you said you were, seventeen?"
"Yes... sir." Billy is really sixteen, being four
months younger than me, but he'll be damned to admit
it. He's been acting tough all evening. That's his
usual way of dealing with the world.
"See, time was I didn't have much patience for people
not working their hardest not to be stupid. But I guess
a lifetime of bitter disappointments had me grow out of
it. Nowadays I expect someone your age to be actively
maintaining their stupidity. So I am not going to slap
you now. Despite what you might think, I am not that
kind of a guy." He smiles that broad smile of his that
I still have to crack. Is it honest? Or fake? Just a
guy having a good moment or a snake getting ready to
devour its prey? Stuff might depend on it. My and
Billy's lives. And other stuff too.
"So, let me ask you: if Morpheus is such a hard ass
character, a leader, as you described him, how come
he's saddled with this slave mentality straight out of
Uncle Tom, eh? How come such a strong, well spoken,
virile, self-assured black male basically spends most
of his screen time drooling over a skinny white guy
with a God-complex? Eh? You ever wondered about that?"
"Um... no, sir..." Billy is thrown off his balance it
seems. The guy likes the sound of his voice, that much
is obvious. And he has a gun on top of it.
"No, of course not, because in your patented brand of
stupidity, endorsed by most of your pop-culture, it's
obvious that a black guy sporting a leather coat and a
pair of ridiculous shades is a 'strong character'." The
guy makes quotation marks with his hands. "To make him
even stronger, hey, let's, you know, give him a samurai
sword in the sequel. That's really going to emphasise
the depth of his intelligence, the length of his
leadership skills and the awesome width of his
gentlemanly manners."
I swear, this man is in love with himself. This is so
fucking Reservoir Dogs it's giving me the creeps. The
muffled cries behind me contribute in a significant
way. I dare not turn. Fuck...
"But you know, when compared to Neo, Morpheus is barely
a shaved ape, really."
Billy does the unthinkable and interrupts him. I swear,
Billy has grown no brains since his mother dropped him
from her womb. He used all the leftover material for
his balls. From a certain standpoint, this is
admirable, but I don't want his combination of cranial
void and testosterone overproduction to get us both
seriously hurt or killed. Granted, the man hasn't
killed anyone yet tonight, but we have both witnessed
him do harm.
"That's just oversimplification," says Billy as if he's
spotted a hole in the man's argumentation. "Neo may be
confused about his messianic role, but this is why
Morpheus plays the part of an intelligent disciple and
directs both their fates, as well as the fate of all
the human race for the greater good." The little fuck
is actually smiling a smug smile to the man's face. He
thinks he has him beaten down.
"See, that's what I am talking about," exclaims the man
in a triumphant voice. "All those shitty movie blogs
you guys read and regurgitate like so many parrots make
you think you actually understand shit about anything
that's going on there. The scary part is you do the
same shit at school and once you are old enough to vote
and make decisions that actually produce some effects
in real life, you'll be no better. In fact," he says,
looking at his gun. "Right now I am in two minds about
whether I should go through the effort of explaining
you how dumb you are or should I just take the easy way
and blow your underdeveloped brains out."
"Please, sir..." I say quickly. "Please, he doesn't
mean anything bad. We are just kids, sir." Fuck this
shit.
"Oh, I am quite aware of it, sonny," he smiles right
back at me. "That's what makes you little shits not
just damaging but actually evil. That you don't
actually mean bad. That you will perpetuate the way of
life that you don't see anything wrong about despite
just needing to open your fucking eyes to see the big
picture. You're evil and lazy. Evil, because you're so
lazy."
I am not arguing with him. He won't do it. He won't
shoot Billy or me. Not yet. He actually wants to
explain. He needs an audience. Just keep him talking.
"You see," he continues. "All this crap about Neo as
Jesus and Morpheus as St. John is the way for those
fucks to get you to talk about their horrible shit of a
movie on your Internet message-boards. Because suddenly
it's not about blowing cars on the highway and dressing
in latex, but it's about depth and metaphors, right?"
The latest is not just a rhetorical question. Both,
Billy and me nod.
"Oh, right," he says. "But when you take a look at the
movie budget you'll see the cash was spent on car
chases and special effects that make the characters
swim through bullets and jump from building to
building. That's what you get shown in trailers and
that's what you go out to see. All that supposed depth
is not what's giving you a hard-on when you see robots
descend on that underground city they stole from Star
Wars. It's the technology that someone had to pay for."
I can't believe we are actually made to sit still
through this. Just because Billy decided we should be
stupid tonight. Billy is always stupid about his dick.
And my dick listened, so I guess I am to blame as well.
"And, so, when you actually walk out of the theatre, do
you say to yourself 'Dude, this was an engaging
religious metaphor placing age-old questions in
postmodern context in which technology acts as our
mirror rather than just a useful tool'? Well, do you?
Did you text your friends to tell them about the many
levels of intellectual and spiritual speculation in the
Matrix when you finished watching the movie, Mr. Billy
Internet-for-brains there? Or did you yell 'Dude, did
you see the CGI? And that babe in latex!! Way hot!!!'"
Billy makes a feeble attempt to protest but is shut up
by an impatient gesture.
"It doesn't matter what you have to say, son, I can see
the way your mind works from here and, let me tell you,
if you mean to rely on it to earn you a living any time
soon, you better start getting used to salvation army
meals." He casts a quick glance across my shoulder to
make sure his primary object of interest is doing well.
"You comfortable there, love? We're not boring you with
our little chat here, are we? We'll be with you in a
second, I promise. These kids just need to be taught
some fundaments of truth first."
Billy actually turns his head and looks. I don't have
the balls to do it. And seeing the look on his face
scares me even more. Billy is still in arousal. Jesus
fucking Christ.
"So, then, William, when you, as a moviegoer, watch
those deep and engaging stories about blowing up cars
and mid-air kung-fu, when you look at Morpheus and you
look at Neo, what do you see? You see a black guy who
can walk on walls and jump from building to building
but you also see a skinny white guy who can fly.
"You see a black guy who can punch through a wall and
slice through a speeding car, right? But then you see a
white, skinny guy who can raise the dead, right? And
the black guy worships the skinny white guy for that.
And on top of that, you see the black guy deliver
motivation speeches that somehow start spontaneous rave
parties in a cave twenty miles below the surface of the
Earth and a strong black woman who admires and worships
him for it all, but the only guy landing some pussy in
that movie is, whoa, who'd have thought, the skinny
white guy!!"
He speaks with feverish devotion as the muffled cries
and the sound of shuffling feet behind me strive for my
attention. I don't turn.
"And, another thing is of course, that sex scene is
just another indication of how poor the imagination of
those fuckers really is. I mean, son, do work with me
here, outside of her uncomfortable fetish latex suit,
would you find Trinity to be particularly attractive?"
He is addressing me, directly, so I have no choice but
to answer.
"N-no, sir, not really. No."
"But," Billy cuts in again, impatiently, hurrying to
drive his point home. "That's the idea of the whole
setting, that in the Matrix everyone can look the way
they want, as opposed to the cards they've been dealt
by the nature."
"Ooh, mister I-left-my-brain-in-the-shitter-this-
morning, aren't we sharp today," the man teases. "And,
can you tell me, genius, how come then that her and Neo
choose to have sex like two cave people, when they have
all that technology at their disposal?"
I see where he's going with this. And despite
everything, despite myself, I feel like joining the
discussion.
"I believe, sir, I believe that this is supposed to
emphasise their need to feel human in moments of such
intense emotional engagement. The primal emotion and
primal sex... uh, sort of."
"Man, you too are so deep, aren't you?" says the man.
"But let me ask you – when you surf your Internet for
porn what do you see?"
"What... what do you mean sir?" I am not sure what he
means.
"Well, brainiac, do you see a lot of porn where it's
just two people naked on the floor having sex, or do
you see people in latex, people with make-up, people
shaved, with plastic boobs and pierced genitals and
tattooed skin, using all kinds of gadgets and
contraptions for your viewing pleasure only?"
"Oh... Um... Yes, I understand." I think I do.
"No, you don't but you might. In a decade or two." He
turns towards Billy. Perhaps he instinctively feels
that he is the slow one. "The point is, it doesn't work
that way. Those people have the technology that makes
their imagination feel realer than reality. It makes
them walk on walls and fly and it makes their
hairstyles stay intact after ridiculously complex
gunfights. They learn all fighting styles in a matter
of seconds and drive combat helicopters like something
out of a video game, but you're trying to tell me that
when it comes to sex they just get undressed and hit
the floor? How does that work?
"For all we know, Trinity could use their fancy Matrix
simulator and grow a clitoris on every square inch of
her skin. Neo could have a seventeen inch cock stuffed
down both legs of his leather pants. He could have
Trinity whip and mutilate him if she feels like it,
only to come out unscathed at the end of the day and
come to play tomorrow again. Just think of the
possibilities!! Legal kiddie sex!! Animals limited only
by your imagination designed to satisfy all your sexual
needs. Slaves that are there to fulfill your every wish
and who genuinely love when you hurt them over and
over!!!"
And as he speaks, he looks over both our heads. And
points his finger as he grows silent. And now I have to
turn around. I have to. This is the cue. The shit will
hit the fan any time now.
"So, my dear, hope you too enjoyed this little cultural
lesson we have been having here. The suburb kids are, I
am afraid, just criminally uneducated when it comes to
anything else but their comic books. We'll see now if
their sexual skills can be rated any better. For your
sake, I hope they can. After all, when I was their age,
I was much more interested in sticking my dick into
something less familiar than my own fist than in
becoming a lawyer."
I look at the woman, at my neighbour. I look at her
struggle to stay on her toes so that her breasts hurt
less. They are tied together tightly with a piece of
rope. The man did a very professional job, by the looks
of it, making sure the rope doesn't slip away even in
moments of extreme tension. He then pulled the rope up
and over the door and attached the other end to the
door handle at the other side, making sure it's just
the desired length.
What I mean is, he made it short enough so that Mrs.
Evans has to stay on her toes all the time as to
prevent her tits being ripped off her torso by her own
weight. Then we sat down and had a long discussion
about the reactionary nature of modern Hollywood
production.
I look at Mrs. Evans as she sways on her toes, losing
balance and gaining it again. Her arms are behind her
back, tied cruelly by the same rope. Her legs shiver
visibly from the effort. There is a big red ball gag in
her mouth, attached at the back of her head. This is
what ensured she wouldn't be interrupting our
discussion with anything else but quiet, muffled cries
of pain and pleas for release. There's some saliva
trickling down her chin.
She is covered in sweat. She's been like this for quite
some time now. I am amazed she's actually still
standing as one wouldn't think she had this kind of
endurance in her. She is not a young girl. She's a wife
and a mother. Then again, one wouldn't think she'd
allow herself to be in this position at all. There's
more to Mrs. Evans than meets the eye, that much is for
sure.
I look at her breasts. The cruel bondage disrupts the
normal blood stream, so now they look larger and are
coloured dark-blue from all the blood trapped inside.
Also, her nipples are very stiff, which, I presume is
another effect of all that accumulated blood rather
than an indication of her arousal.
She returns my look. A bewildered, animalistic plea for
help, for release. She knows I can not be of any help
to her, but her eyes don't. She prays to me, silently,
as she tries to keep the precious balance on her toes.
Shit... It's fucked up. It's so fucked up that I want
to vomit. But my cock is interested in this
proposition. I hang out with Billy too much. Stupidity,
unlike beauty, seems to be contagious.
Chapter 2: 'All You Need Is Love Was Not True'
It all started out of boredom. Just how many tragedies
start the same way, we may never know. Sometimes I get
all philosophical and wonder, with all the stupid,
idiotic things we will do, how come our parents don't
keep us under lock and key all the time... Drugs,
shoplifting, teenage pregnancy, AIDS, street fights,
drunk driving... You name it, I'll name someone from my
school who you can pin it on. We're just stupid kids,
damnit and we're bored. No fucking amount of movie
trailers and Playstation games changes that. It's a
fact of life. Boredom is the disease you catch as a
teenager and the cure can sometimes kill you. But you
still crave it.
So, you know, when Billy suggested we go and stalk Mrs.
Evan's place, I didn't actually say 'Dude, I don't
think this is the best of all possible ideas. Why not
just go and hang out at the mall or something?' Of
course this is what I will claim in court. Let the
retard take more of the blame if possible. It was his
fucking idea after all.
But I didn't really say it. What I said was more along
the lines of 'You think she'll put on another show for
us tonight? You're an optimistic bitch.'
Billy is not really optimistic. The concept is a little
too advanced for him. He is more, like, determined.
Single-minded. Stubborn.
You see, Billy was the one who discovered that Mrs.
Evans, our neighbour, would occasionally use the
opportunity of her husband and sons not being home to
let out some steam, so to put it.
And let me tell you about Mrs. Evans. She's one of
those well-preserved middle-aged suburban moms who have
not only done a splendid job of being a model wife and
an understanding parent but who also managed to stay
very desirable even in her forties. I am not some
granny fetishist here, and there's plenty girls my age
around me who I'd like to drill, but Mrs. Evans has
been responsible for quite a few hard-ons in my tender
teenage years. That I am still in. And she is still one
sexy slut.
Not that she ever acted like one, quite the contrary,
part of what made her such an enduring fantasy for me
and rest of the kids from the neighbourhood was that,
in addition to her good looks and mild nature, she
always had these... manners.
You know how you love your mom but sometimes you wish
she'd just shut up and stop embarrassing herself with
either jokes that make you blush or talking about shit
she doesn't know anything about and cheerfully so.
Well, you'd never catch Mrs. Evans doing that. The
woman has manners, this noble aura about her that
somehow makes her stand out in a crowd of soccer moms
that our neighbourhood consists of.
So, of course, the natural direction for your fantasies
about her to go is gutter. I think I started
masturbating when I was twelve and Mrs. Evans was one
of the choice targets of my mind's attention during
these sessions ever since. The woman has been fucked in
all holes in my mind, many times.
The woman sucked my cock and swallowed my cum and told
me all about my insane sex skills while I called her
names that aroused her even more. If I had a dime for
every time I came in a tissue, lying in my bed at
night, whispering 'Susan, you're such a dirty whore' or
some similar, inspired one-liner, I'd have one huge
fucking pile of dimes now, that much is sure.
The usual stuff, then.
But THEN one night Billy's ID came up on my phone and
when I answered the call what I heard was a croaky
whisper. What the fuck?
"I said, get your ass over here, moron. You're missing
the show of your fucking life!!"
Of course, at first I though Billy was putting me on.
The guy has a somewhat less than subtle sense of
humour. That wouldn't be entirely unlike him. But just
the thought. Just the thought made my cock go stiff.
"I'm going to fucking choke you on your own teeth,
bitch. You better not be playing any games with me. I'm
going to punch your jaws in."
But Billy just went on in that awkward combination of
excited whispering and screaming, telling me that I am
a moron for wasting any time arguing with him. That it
was so typical of me to respond to his kindness with
mistrust and abuse. OK, he didn't use that many words.
So I did, I went there. It was still fairly early in
the night and I needed to cross just a couple of
streets to get to the Evans' house. Mindful to remain
unseen I made my way to the back. There he was. Billy
was hiding in the shadow and gesturing at me to keep it
quiet. As I approached I noticed he wasn't lying. Would
his cock have been out of his jeans if he was?
Billy pointed at the window, still keeping his finger
on his lips, making sure I don't create any loud
noises. But he didn't need to. I wasn't going to. No,
Jesus, fuck, shit, I wasn't going to. Billy wasn't
lying to me and this was indeed a once in a lifetime
opportunity.
My cock wasn't just 'stiff' any more. My cock was so
hard I could crack coconuts and cat skulls with it.
Under normal circumstances, I would have never taken it
out. Yes, we did discuss masturbation quite a lot, as
boys always do and we certainly talked about our
genitals a lot, but you have to draw a line somewhere.
And in my mind, group masturbation sessions are
somewhat south of the line I have personally drawn and
written the word 'gay' under. In big fucking red
letters. So, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't
have taken my rock-hard cock out and started peeling
the foreskin back in front of my non-gay friend Billy
just like that. But, this was not normal and it's not
like Billy was interested to look my way anyway.
Because, frankly, I wasn't looking his way either.
Because, the window gave us something far more
interesting to lay our eyes on.
Billy wasn't lying.
There she was, there was out neighbour, Mrs. Evans,
Susan, the respectable wife, mother, the model citizen
of our cosy suburbia, the slut of my dreams, there she
was, all alone in the room. The light was not
particularly bright, most of it seemed to be coming
from a huge computer monitor on her desk. But there was
quite enough of it for us to see what we needed.
So, we could see that she was, after all, really a slut
that our imagination painted so vividly over all those
years.
Mrs. Evans, our respected, well-mannered neighbour and
mother of our friends was masturbating using a battery-
operated vibrator. I have no idea what was on the
screen that she was looking at. It could have been a
movie clip, a story, a series of photos, but there is
no doubt it was pornography. It wasn't a sex-chat, that
much was sure, because her both hands were busy between
her thighs.
Just thinking back about it gives me the shivers. It's
a wonder I didn't come within seconds. The woman I
dreamed about for such a long time was right there in
front of me, stroking herself with a vibrator, her face
a grimace of sinful pleasure, her hips rocking back and
forth in unison with her hands' movements. The window
was closed but we could still hear her moans, albeit
soft and distant. By the looks of it, she was being
loud and vocal. I was happy, happy as fuck to see she
was, after all, such a hot slut. A dirty fucking whore.
She had most of her clothes on for the occasion. Hell,
I didn't even get to see her tits, she just rolled her
dress up and her panties down. They were still around
her ankles. She was barefoot and so sexy. And when she
got on her back, got her legs up in the air and came
pushing the vibrator in, came with a series of guttural
scrams that seemed to be rocking the windows, so did I.
I struggled to suppress my own voice as I sprayed the
wall of Susan's house with my steaming teenage semen. I
don't know about Billy, I wasn't looking, maybe he
didn't even make it to that point, but we both came
that evening, watching our neighbour masturbate.
And then again, later, in bed. And then again, later
still, around four in the morning in the toilet. I was
so hard that night that I thought I'd be sick. I
literally felt pain in my cock from all the blood that
decided to make a fucking rush hour party in there.
Needless to say, seeing a woman like Susan do stuff
like that changes one's view of the world. Permanently.
More importantly, it completely changes the way you see
the person in question. In my mind Susan stopped being
a respectable woman with slut potential. She became a
slut proper, her respectable front being just an
elaborate disguise. My fantasies about her became
wilder than before.
Of course, seeing Mrs. Evans in the street was never
going to be the same. I was smart enough to never make
any kind of ambiguous comments in front of her sons
and, amazingly, so was Billy. But just seeing her in
the street or in the mall, every time it felt like
being hit in the stomach with a sledgehammer. I knew. I
knew her secret. I saw her most intimate moment. I saw
it, consumed it, exploited it, flipped it in my head
many times since. And she didn't know.
Neither me nor Billy have girlfriends. OK, this is not
something I am bragging about. It's just a fact. Call
us freaks or geeks or whatever name people with
girlfriends like to throw at us, you probably won't
make it any worse for us. It's just like that. I have
the slight advantage over Billy though, as I have
actually had sexual intercourse in my life whereas he
can only boast a handjob performed by a drunken fat
girl he met at a party in the mountains. If you think
being a teenager is easy then your memory is very
selective. And fuck you.
So, we discussed this a lot. Mrs. Evans became somewhat
of a returning topic of our conversation. We never told
anyone else about it – you could say it's either
because we wanted it to be our secret that will makes
us feel smug in front of our peers or because we don't
really have any friends. Either way, it was a well kept
secret. But we talked about it a lot. Well, yes, those
were embarrassing conversations most of the time, but
we did compare our impressions, memories, theories. And
the number of times we could come thinking about Mrs.
Evans within one day.
And we started stalking the house. Frequently. Hope
that we will stumble upon another occasion to see some
of the paradise on Earth was strong enough to make us
forget about TV, mall, drinking, smoking joints or porn
surprisingly often.
And, I am happy to report it paid once again.
The second time could not be like the first time, of
course. But in some ways it was better. The first time
it was Billy's insane boredom and retardedness that
made him stumble upon the goldmine. The second time was
the result of perseverance and devotion and belief.
And we watched her as she sat in front of her computer
again. We watched her roll down her panties. This time
they came off completely. And what she did then almost
made me cum right there before the action even started
for real. She rolled the panties into a little ball and
then used them to rub her pussy dry.
Apparently, she was already very wet and didn't want to
mess up the place before time was due, so she used her
panties to wipe her pussy of its juices. And then, oh,
fuck, God, shit, then she brought the panties to her
face and closed her eyes as she was losing herself in
the scent. I so wished I was there, to have a sniff
myself. And when she extended her tongue and touched
the wet fabric of the panties with its tip, Billy
moaned aloud.
"Dude..."
"Shut the fuck up, retard!!!" My whisper was probably
louder than his voice but I was so mad at him for
potentially blowing our cover. I didn't even want to
think about what would happen if Susan or anyone really
learned about our little voyeuristic celebration here.
The shit would come raining down so hard and thick from
all sides that having an umbrella wasn't even an
option.
This time around, she was taking her time (or we just
managed to get to the show early). She was reading
something off the screen, that was also obvious, as she
was spreading her thighs, her bare feet touching the
floor only with toes. She was touching her pussy
gently, running her fingers slowly up and down, then
playing with her clit without hurry.
Her other hand, while not on the mouse, disappeared
under her blouse. I could see her squeeze her tits and
pinch her nipples just as I could also see the
expressions on her face change from focus on what was
on the screen to being lost in pleasure that her
fingers were bringing her. She looked so hot. She
looked like such a slut.
Billy and I masturbated in unison, wet, sticky noises
made by our hands jerking our foreskins, as our pretty
neighbour worked herself into a state of proper sexual
frenzy. She stopped caring about the screen after a
while and kicked back in her chair, her fingers now
very busy between her thighs. She was literally fucking
herself with three fingers of one hand, while the other
one had other duties to attend to. First it was just
fingers on the clit, but then she reached for the desk
and brought her vibrator up.
I don't know whether she felt more adventurous this
time around or what but what she did was so deliciously
dirty I almost fainted on the spot. First, she grabbed
her panties again and rubbed them all over her pussy,
collecting all the juices along the way and moaning
like a true whore. When she assessed that they were wet
enough, she started polishing the length of the
vibrator with them. And then, when it was all shiny
from her juices, she put the vibrator into her mouth.
Shit, I still get goosebumps just remembering the
scene. She was sucking on that plastic little thing,
moaning all the time, her eyes closed.
"Fuck, man, fuck man, fuck, man..." Billy was repeating
his mantra in a religious whisper, the rhythm
punctuated by the steady work his right arm was
undertaking.
I was actually afraid I'd come before the show is over.
My cock felt like it would explode and I had to break
my stroking routine from time to time to prevent
premature ejaculation. After all, I wanted to see the
vibrator switched on and placed where God ultimately
intended it to be.
And God smiled upon us as Susan obviously couldn't take
it any more herself. She turned the thing on and
started rubbing her clit, fucking herself with three
fingers all along. She was also loud and I mean loud.
We could hear her moan and scream as she was nearing
her orgasm. But then, as if knowing she had an audience
already familiar with her antics, she provided another
extra number to the show. She actually got up and
turned her back to us. Then, kneeling on the chair, she
pushed the vibrator into her pussy from the rear and
started rocking her hips.
I could hear her say words, dirty words as she fucked
herself from the back. I couldn't repeat any of them
now, though. I think my blood pressure was so high that
moment that I was almost insane. I just prayed to God
for her to come soon as I knew I couldn't take much
more. I could have died right there if this was to take
any more time.
But it didn't. Susan fucked herself faster and faster
and faster and came screaming. Screaming so loud that I
felt as if I was in there with her, not out here,
squeezing my dick and shooting my cum into her wall.
Both Billy and me came simultaneously, demonstrating
amazing levels of discipline. Susan made us ejaculate
as if on command. Just as we packed up as if on command
and retreated across the lawns and sidewalks in
complete silence.
It was only several streets away that we actually
started punching each other's arm in amazement.
"Dude!!!"
"Unbelievable!!!"
"Man, what a slut!!!"
"What a whore!!! Holy fuck, I wonder what's wrong with
her husband!!!"
"Man, I'd blow a hole in her with my cock!!!"
And so on.
You could say that stalking Susan's house became a sort
of our permanent occasional hobby. Whenever we had a
hint of the possibility that her sons would be out we
came stalking in the night, hoping to catch her
masturbating or even fucking her husband. We didn't
have any more luck.
Until tonight. If you want to call it luck.
"You think she'll put on another show for us tonight?
You're an optimistic bitch."
"Man, the hubby is out and the sons are both out, I
heard that from Rob." Rob hangs out with Susan's sons.
"They'll be out at the movies. Man. Can you imagine
what the slut will be up to, eh, can you?"
I couldn't. Not because I didn't have anything to base
my assumptions on, but because what then happened was
so beyond any fucking thing either of us could imagine
in any of our dreams or nightmares that we were both
completely taken by surprise.
Chapter 3: 'I Eat Pussy For Breakfast'
All nu-metal songs seem to be made following the same
formula. It's almost like having a piece of computer
software that churns out these angsty, irritated pieces
of music that have interchangeable vocals, drums,
lyrics and so on. Why do I listen to it you ask? Well,
it's not like I have anything better to do with my
life. And also, there is certain power to it after all.
I am smart enough to see most of this music for the
industrial waste it is but then I am stupid enough to
like it.
Most of these songs will pound on your head for a
couple of minutes or so just to have a comparatively
quieter passage where emotions start to flow with the
ease impossible only seconds ago. And then, when you
start mellowing out, then it just cuts and the pounding
starts with twice as much force as before.
The vocalist goes into seizures. In videos, there's
usually fire and sparks flying. And that, no matter how
predictable and formulaic, always gets you head-banging
and stomping and screaming like a motherfucker. The
surge of power. The primitive force. You know it will
come and yet you always let it wash over you and take
you away.
This is a bit how I felt coming to Susan's house this
evening. We knew what to expect. We knew what she'd be
doing. We knew the ways she might use to pleasure
herself. And yet, just getting to see it would be ten
times as strong as thinking about it. No word of
description, no image of reminiscence could measure to
the pure electrifying shock of seeing this pretty,
slutty, dirty woman do her evil magic. My heart started
beating fast in anticipation.
But, you know, for all the sparks and controlled fires
in those videos, you sometimes wonder how it'd feel if
the explosion was, you know, really real. If the sparks
were not just fireworks, if the screams were not just
stylized way of singing. If the burst was actually so
strong to have your head explode along with everything
else.
This is what happened to us.
I think I saw the expression on Billy's face first.
Then came his whisper.
"Dude..."
I saw it. I saw it too. I was pulling my pants down and
taking my cock out and I saw it too. And for a second I
thought that we were luckier than we ever thought we
could be.
"Dude..."
Billy's voice was weak. He must have been overcome with
emotion. Probably the same emotion that was
electrifying my spine and grinding my guts. Plus, Billy
was masturbating furiously.
I started jerking off too. You would have started as
well, if you were there, I know you would. There was no
preparation for this, there was no introduction,
foreplay or announcement.
We came and we saw. And we saw Susan fuck.
"Dude..."
"Fuck... Dude... This is..."
"Quiet, retard! They'll hear us!"
"No way, dude, no way... Dude, who is this guy?"
None of us knew.
"Dude, she's fucking a black guy!! Dude, nigga cock!!
She's taking nigga cock from behind!!!"
Most of our blood moved to our nether regions for
obvious reasons. This probably accounts for us being a
little slow in observing the situation carefully and
drawing the right set of conclusions.
The black guy, then. He was big. He had most of his
clothes on, his penis just pulled out of the zipper of
his expensive looking trousers. His big, black balls
were hitting Susan's ass because he was pounding her
from behind. And I mean pounding. This was not just
'fucking'. This was brutal, animalistic sex with a hint
of blood-thirst to it.
They were on the sofa, Susan's face buried in it, her
ass up in the air and this black guy on top of her,
fucking her from behind like a bitch.
Yes, bitch, because that's what he was saying.
"You like it, eh? You like it, bitch? You like to be
fucked like a whore, don't you? You like this black
cock deep in you, don't you?"
I looked at Billy, just to check if he is as red in the
face as me. Well, he was.
"Dude, I don't believe this," he whispered almost
religiously. Or so I thought.
"What do we do? What do we do?"
Do?
Do?
What the fuck was he on about? We didn't come here to
do anything, except masturbate like mother-fuckers.
What was he on about?
I returned my gaze to the window. I was ready to
fucking blow my cum all over that wall. There will be
strange plants in Mrs. Evans' garden come spring. The
black guy was still steadily fucking Susan from behind,
calling her a dirty whore with obvious pleasure. It
then occurred to me that Mrs. Evans always used to be
so loud while masturbating. But now I couldn't hear a
thing coming from her.
Then I noticed she had some of her clothes on. Not as
in 'been undressing in a hurry'. More like 'clothes
ripped off her' type of look. She had her blouse on,
but it was torn and I could see her breasts for the
first time in my life.
And that's when I figured it out. I figured out what
Billy was on about. I call him the slow one, but he got
it immediately. Maybe he just saw the rope straight
away.
Mrs. Evans' arms were tied firmly on her back with a
piece of rope. Mrs. Evans was restrained quite cruelly
by what I could see in the not-so-perfect light of the
room. She was tied down and fucked from behind. And the
reason she was not as loud as one would expect her to
be was, and I saw that when her partner (?) grabbed her
hair and pulled her head up from the sofa, the reason
was the big red ball gag in her mouth.
That's when my eyesight improved dramatically it seems.
I could see her makeup, smeared across her face, I
could see the trail of tears across the smeared makeup.
I could see the bruise.
"Is this how you like it, slut? Eh? Is this how you
need it? Does hubby ever fuck you like this, eh? You
ever told him you like it this way, like a bitch?"
The guy pulled her head back violently and put his head
on her shoulder as he positioned his hips to keep
penetrating her in this position. Susan was struggling,
but the effect was probably more amusing to him than
distracting.
The insane thing about this is that I never for a
second stopped pumping my cock. All these long, fucked
up seconds as the realisation was dawning on me that I
am witnessing something completely different than what
I was prepared for, all these seconds I kept squeezing
my cock. It felt good, it did. Fuck. And I looked at
Billy as the horror washed over me. Billy was squeezing
his balls with one hand and jerking off with the other.
"Dude, fuck, dude... What the fuck is this, dude?"
Our voices were funny as all hell. Trying to whisper
when we felt like screaming, all shaky and punctuated
by rhythmic jerking of our entire bodies.
"Dude, I don't know... Who the fuck is this guy?"
"Dude, I don't know... He's... He's..."
"He's raping her dude!!!"
The word was out then.
We were witnessing rape. Our neighbour was tied down
and raped by a big black guy, right in front of our
eyes.
And our cocks were practically exploding with arousal.
"No, dude, no... No... They're... They're... They're
role-playing. This is what it is... They're role-
playing, man, OK?"
The relative safety of this assumption was cruelly
undermined only seconds later. The man pulled out of
Mrs. Evans, his hard, black cock glistening cheerfully
in the dim light. I am not sure if I even thought at
that moment that, if she's wet, this might not be rape
after all but anyway, some minutes later I'd see an
open tube of KY lying on the floor which would
successfully destroy this comforting thought.
He pulled out and got down from the sofa. He grabbed
Susan's hair and, as carelessly as humanly possible,
pulled her off the sofa and down to her knees. Then he
slapped her, hard.
"You like that?"
He slapped her again, her head snapping violently to
the opposite side. She tried to pull back from him, but
he grabbed her hair and pulled her up, brutally. And
slapped her again.
"How's that feel, eh? Does it feel good? Are you
enjoying this, love?"
He backhanded her, hard, knocking her down to the
floor. I looked at Billy. He was staring through the
window, transfixed, his hand steadily tugging at his
cock.
And so was mine.
"Dude... What the fuck do we do?"
I saw Susan trying to crawl away from her rapist, using
her legs only but he was on her in a second.
"Where the fuck are you going eh? You think you can
just get up and walk out on me again? Not this time,
bitch. Not this time, you fucking whore."
He turned her around, like a ragdoll and got her ass up
again.
"Not this time, you fucking slut. This time you get
fucked properly."
I thought I was dying. I had the front row seat
watching his big black cock penetrate Mrs. Evans' pussy
from behind. I saw it all, it was all in front of me,
better than Hi-Def TV. Better than fucking Blu-Ray
DVDs.
I saw the woman squirm and struggle. I heard the man
laugh. I saw him push and push and push until his large
cock split her pussy lips and penetrated her. I heard
her bellow into her plastic gag. I saw him grab her
tied arms and pull her onto his cock. I saw him push
into her, all the way down, until his balls were glued
to her ass. Then he pulled out and pushed again and
again and again.
I was going to come. This was wrong. This was the
ultimate in wrong. I couldn't imagine anything more
wrong than this and yet, both me and Billy, despite
being sickened, well, we just continued watching and
masturbating.
Because it was so arousing, God help me. I have never
seen anything so hot and arousing as this woman, this
helpless woman being restrained, held down and raped
from behind.
"You bitch! You bitch! You bitch!"
The man was repeating the name in synch with the stabs
of his pelvis and to my horror, I realised my head was
nodding in the same rhythm. I followed every move he
was making. I tried to synchronise my pace with his. I
didn't want to come before he does.
But then he did come, sticking his cock into her all
the way down to his balls, making her produce a scream
that even I could hear. He groaned and his ass vibrated
funny. I understood he was filling her vagina with his
cum.
"You feel that, Susan? You feel that? That's nigga cum,
inside your pussy. That's nigga sperm knocking at your
womb's door!!"
He pulled her head up again, forced her to turn back
and look into his eyes.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!!"
He slapped her again.
"You could have had it the easy way, whore. But you
chose to act like a bitch and this is what you get for
screwing around with me."
Susan was crying, big, heavy tears rolling down her
cheeks. She was trying to shake her head. I guess this
was just a reaction to his harsh words. It wasn't real
resistance because she was not in a position to give
any.
He pushed her to the floor, violently and got up. He
adjusted his suit, his big, black cock dangling from
his zipper. He looked around the room. I realised
neither me nor Billy have come yet.
"Alright, Susan, that was the appetiser. Frankly,
you're a lousy fuck, but that's something I plan to
work on."
He adjusted his hair.
"I'm going for a piss and I'm gonna wash my cock a
little, make sure I don't catch a nasty disease or two
from you. I know how you whores are."
He looked around the room again.
"Don't go anywhere, love. I'll be back in a minute to
teach you some more about lovin', OK?"
With these words, he opened the door and left the room.
Me and Billy stood in silence for a couple of seconds,
both of us still holding our rock-hard cocks in our
sweaty fists.
"Dude..." I said. "Dude... Let's get the fuck out of
here. Let's get the fuck out of here, dude."
I realised I was shivering. I still needed to cum,
badly, but I realised I was shivering not only with
arousal. I was shivering with fear and disgust.
"Let's get the fuck out of here, dude."
"Dude, we have to do something."
We?
Have to do something?
We have to do something?
"Dude, give me your phone, dude, my brother took mine,
dude, let me have yours."
"Billy, dude, fuck that, man, let's get the fuck out of
here, dude."
"Dude," Billy was insisting. "Just give me the damn
phone, dude, I can call the cops, dude."
Call the cops?
"Wait, man, wait, let's get out of here, dude. We'll
call the cops, just let's get out of here, man."
"Dude, what's wrong with you? Give me the phone, man!
I'll call the cops!!"
We argued in angry, scared whispers.
"Man, I'm telling you, let's get the fuck out of here
first. We're not supposed to be here, man. I am not
supposed to be out of my room, man, I am grounded for
fuck's sake!!!"
I was. I really was. And I was stupid enough to listen
to Billy talk with his dick this evening.
"What the fuck man, just give me the phone, we make the
call and get away from here. Come ON, damnit, the guy
will be back any second!!!"
I should have started walking. I should have started
walking towards the street and then making my way to my
house. I should have started walking and what was Billy
going to do? He would have been forced to follow me. He
had no phone on him and anyway, I was the elder one,
the smarter one, he would have followed.
Instead we argued.
"I don't believe you're such a fucking retard!!! Let's
just fucking GO, damnit!!!"
We argued with our cocks out. Must have looked comical.
But neither of us was laughing.
"No, it's you who's the retard here, man, what the FUCK
is wrong with you?"
Then the rich, deep voice cut through the darkness.
"Gentleman, may I have your attention, please?"
I knew that voice. For a short time, sure, but I knew
it. I followed the voice to its source, turning my head
slowly. I was greeted with a barrel of a handgun
pointed at my face.
Now, technically, Billy could have made it. He was
further away from the man and the gun was pointed at
me. He could have made it, if he just went for it,
running into darkness, climbing over hedges and fences.
He could have made it.
But Billy didn't even try to run. You'll hear me say a
lot of shit about Billy. But he is my best friend.
The black man grinned.
"Thanks. I believe you had fun here in the garden. What
say you join us in the house for some more quality
time, eh?"
I stuttered.
"Please, sir, we... w-we..."
"I wasn't technically asking, foureyes. Move, now!"
He was still grinning. He was grinning as he pushed the
cold metal of his gun into my face, pressing it against
my skin, pressing it against my bone.
The feeling is very hard to describe. The feeling of
being utterly owned. Utterly helpless. One soft press
of the finger away from being completely erased from
this existence.
My cock, my stupid cock was still hard.
'Sometimes I Thank God I Can't Sing Because Then No
One Can Blame Me for Anything'
Don't ask me how it turned the way it did. I still
can't get my head around it.
The guy marched us into the house and into the room
that was the focus of our attention for such a long
time.
"Well, well, well, Susan, I see you have some admirers
here. A couple of snotty kids I caught jerking off
outside your window. Not bad for an old slut, not bad
at all."
Mrs. Evans looked up from the floor and I saw the
purest, deepest horror on her face as she focused on us
and realised who we were. She knew us. She might not
have known our full names and all, but she knew us. Two
kids from the neighbourhood, two kids that she passed
in the street every couple of days or so. Two kids who
knew her sons.
Two kids who saw her being raped and humiliated. Two
witnesses of her deepest, dirtiest shame.
Two kids mortally terrified, trying to suppress tears
as the man motioned us to sit on the sofa.
What followed was as absurd as it was scary.
The man took away my phone first. There was no argument
about that. As soon as he asked I gave it away. Billy
explained that he didn't have one on him, but the man
was having none of it. It took pointing a gun to his
face, quick body search and me bursting into tears
before the man was satisfied.
"Foureyes, you're one big pussy. How old are you, brats
anyway?"
We told him. He laughed. He asked for how long we have
been watching.
Both at the same time we started explaining that we'd
just arrived and that we didn't see anything. It was
comical, pathetic and annoying. He laughed and told us
to shut up.
"Have you done this before?"
Billy and me looked at each other. Susan was still on
the floor, her arms still restrained, right in front of
us.
"Boys, I asked a simple question!!! Perhaps you'll
think quicker if I shoot your knees."
"No, sir, please, sir!!" I yelled. "We have done this
before! Two times!"
This wasn't the time for secrets after all.
"Two times?"
"Y-yes, sir"
"Two times?"
The guy looked at me expecting an answer.
"I... I don't understand, sir..."
"Look, kid," he said, taking a deep, irritated breath.
"I suppose your parents have more patience with you
because presumably one day they'll have to rely on you
wiping their asses and spoon-feeding them. But I am not
your parents. I am going to pistol whip you the minute
I think you're playing stupid with me and I am going to
shoot you the minute I think you're lying."
I felt my bowels melt.
"Please, sir, I..."
"Two times WHAT, kid? You did WHAT two times?"
"Please, sir, we... We watched Mrs. Evans masturbate
two times, that's all sir."
I swallowed. My throat was so dry I thought I'd choke.
I didn't even dare look Billy's way.
"Oohh, ain't that cute? Aint' that just cute, eh?"
He turned towards Susan and addressed her directly.
"You hear that, bitch? You hear that? You provided
these kids with some top quality homemade porn, slut.
Knowing you, it wouldn't really surprise me to learn
you actually knew about it all along."
Then he turned to me again.
"So, how often do you come around? Come on, foureyes,
entertain my curiosity here. You live here?"
"Yes, sir, we do, we are both from the neighbourhood...
We... we..." I looked Billy's way. I couldn't really. I
couldn't really say it.
"We come here every time we know her family is out,"
offered Billy helpfully.
The man grinned again.
"Oh, we have a couple of little perverts here, don't
we?" He rubbed the tip of his nose with the barrel of
his gun. "Now, you guys have bitten off more than you
can possibly swallow this evening. You are aware of
that, I hope."
That last was a question. And both me and Billy started
speaking at the same time. We were not very convincing,
I am afraid. We tried persuading the man that we won't
tell anyone. We tried explaining that we'd keep this
our secret until the very last days of our miserable
lives. We pleaded and cried. He was still grinning and
rubbing the tip of his nose.
"OK, just shut up now, both of you, before I shoot your
guts out and force you to walk home carrying each
other's dinner in your pockets."
He looked at Susan, still lying at the floor. Billy
sobbed softly. I couldn't suppress tears.
"You know, guys, normally, I'd consider you two a
significant problem in the overall scheme of my
enterprise this evening." He looked at us and smiled
that overblown smile of his. "But I'm starting to see
the way to turn it all to my advantage." His smile
broadened. "Get your clothes off, now."
We stared at him in frozen disbelief. He stared back.
"Excuse me? What's the matter, you got shit in your
ears? I said GET NAKED, YOU LITTLE SHITS, before I
shoot your asses full of lead!!!"
He pointed his gun towards us to underline his words.
So we complied. We practically tore our clothes off,
throwing them as far away from ourselves as we could. I
was shivering with fear and shame, trying to cover my
genitals with my hands.
"Oh, four-eyes, don't be so pathetically gay," said the
man. "It's not like we didn't see it before. And,
frankly, it's nothing one would notice if he were to
pass it in the street."
He pointed with his gun.
"Now get down on the floor, there."
We sat on the floor.
"Right. I want you guys to sit there and contemplate
the importance of being in the right place at the wrong
time. I'll join you in a second. I just have a slut to
wrap up."
The next several minutes I looked straight ahead. Billy
was the braver one, he actually turned a couple of
times. I didn't have the balls. I just listened to the
sounds. The tearing of fabric. The giggle in that
strong, deep voice. The muffled screams of the
unfortunate woman.
More screams, screams of terrible pain and terror as he
was... Well, I didn't exactly know what he was doing.
It took another fifteen or twenty minutes of superbly
surrealistic conversation for me to actually turn
around and see Susan cruelly bound and tortured in her
impossible position near the door.
But before that, we talked.
Chapter 4: 'Fear Of A Gay Planet'
The man burst into such healthy laughter that I thought
I must be dreaming. This couldn't possibly be real.
"A gangsta? A gangsta? Excuse me, do I hear well? You
think I am a 'gangsta', son? With an 'a' at the end,
right?"
For some reason he thought this was extremely funny.
Billy was at a loss for words. He didn't expect this
kind of a reaction.
"Is it really possible that you guys are so dumb, eh?
Or are you just pulling this old man by the nose, eh?
That's nasty, yeah, that's right damn nasty, I tell
you!"
He wiped the tears from his eyes and turned back to
Billy. Behind me, Susan was moaning into her gag.
"So, let me ask you son, in your world, every African-
American person in possession of a firearm must be a
... 'gangsta'? Right? Am I right? Am I interpreting
your thoughts correctly?"
"N-n-no, sir, I didn't mean to..." Billy was shivering.
At least he was talking. I couldn't even talk yet.
"Oh, you did, you did." The man nodded with a serious
expression on is face, to add gravity to his words.
"After all, what could a nigga with a gun, raping a
white bitch ever be, but a member of organized crime,
right? You probably think this suit was bought for
crack money, right?"
"No, sir... No..."
"Oh, don't bullshit me, Billy, don't bullshit me son.
Your ignorance is rivalled by your stupidity only. At
least Ray here has the dignity to shut up when he
doesn't have anything intelligent to say."
He gave me a fatherly pat on the head.
"And, the truth is, I am trained to see when people
bullshit me. You wanna know why? Eh? You wanna know
why?"
Billy played along.
"Yes, um, yes, sir."
"Because I am, get this, I am a lawyer."
He made this announcement with such a ridiculously
solemn expression on his face that Billy started
laughing. I felt my spine freeze. This is it. We're
getting shot. Billy is laughing into his face.
But the man started laughing too.
"Yeah, hahaha, get this, bitch, eh? The nigga standing
here is a goddamn lawyer, son!! A goddamn nigga lawyer.
Gun packing, ass-kicking lawyer sonofabitch!"
Billy laughed. The man laughed. I sat and watched in
horror.
"You wanna know something else? Eh?"
Billy kept laughing but I nodded.
"I never played basketball!! I was on a baseball team
at school!!! I am not a Muslim, I am not circumcised!!!
And I play a violin!!!"
This was such an absurd string of information that I
couldn't. I couldn't figure out what to do or say. I
started giggling a bit. Then I started laughing.
"See? See? Clichés are funny when you have a gun!!!"
So there we were, a black lawyer with a gun in his
hand, two skinny white teenagers sitting butt-naked on
the floor, laughing like mad, while the woman behind us
was practically hanging on her tits.
Chapter 5: 'Don't say motherfucker, motherfucker'
"Now I know this looks a little harsh, but what was a
guy to do? Do I let this white bitch here fuck me like
my brain was bought at a garage sale? Hell, no!! The
bitch was to fucking pay. And it's collection day,
niggas!!!"
In shame, I tried to conceal the fact that I got
erection. The tale that the man told us, well, it got
me hard. And I was ashamed.
Apparently, our neighbour, respectable Mrs. Evans
posted an ad at some personals website. Apparently, our
neighbour, the elegant, quiet Mrs. Evans asked guys to
contact her. She was looking for 'hot email' and
'erotic chat' and 'possibly more'.
She asked for guys to contact her if they're looking
for a 'slutty soccer mom'. She needed someone 'to tell
her how much of a slut she is'. She encouraged 'very
well equipped' guys to drop her one, especially if they
were black. 'You could have your own white slave
bitch!' exclaimed her ad.
So, our man got in touch with her. And apparently, our
neighbour responded enthusiastically.
"Let me tell you, in print, this bitch was the hottest
piece of pussy I've seen in a long time. She was
craving for cock like a motherfucker!"
So far so good.
So after some email exchange and some hot chat, they
made a deal to meet in person.
"It wasn't easy persuading her, let me tell you. She
kept insisting her husband must never suspect and that
she'd die of shame if her sons ever learned about it."
And they met in a restaurant outside of town.
And apparently, it was a nervous, exciting encounter.
And apparently, they agreed to wait with the coitus
until the next time.
"It was fine by me. I didn't want to scare this nice
piece of ass away by acting like some impatient
teenager. No offence meant, guys. I wasn't ready to
wine and dine her until the end of my mortal days on
this planet but getting to fuck her on the next date
was perfectly OK with me."
But then the things took an unexpected turn in the car.
The man was giving Mrs. Evans a ride back to town and,
more joking than being serious, he put her hand on his
crotch while he was driving. To his surprise, she
grabbed his cock with obvious enthusiasm. And kept
squeezing, feeling the thing grow in size.
So, he pulled over and minutes later she had her mouth
full of his meat.
"She was all over that cock, kids. You never saw
something like that, She was practically dying to show
me how much she loves black meat."
Now, someone else would have reminded her of the
agreement they have just reached, but apparently, our
man was ready to forget about it. So he just provided
further encouragement by pushing her head down, so she
could get more of his penis into her mouth and by
calling her a dirty slut and a whore.
That, apparently only got her to suck him with more
eagerness. She salivated all over his cock and balls,
swallowed as much of his length as she could. He
grabbed her hair and forced her head down, at the same
time pushing his hips upwards. His cock penetrated her
throat and, as she was gagging, that's where he shot
his cum.
"She wasn't a brilliant swallower, I have to say that.
But I thought there will be plenty opportunities to
teach her to be a good whore. I thought this was the
beginning of a beautiful friendship."
So, he wasn't mad at her for letting his cum drip from
her mouth, down her chin, down on his balls and the
fabric of his pants.
However, to his surprise, this is where Susan actually
got up and opened the door. And walked out of the car.
"Hey baby!"
Or something like that.
She only turned around after he called three times. And
that only to tell him she changed her mind. To tell him
not to call, not to write, not to plan to see her
again.
"'I made a mistake.' Can you believe that? She made a
mistake!!" The man looked at us, his eyes big, white
and surprised like he himself was hearing the story for
the first time.
Now, calling a man 'mistake', right after you have
blown him, that's probably not the best possible way to
appeal to his good side.
But our man has a good side. If he may say so himself.
So he let her go. Let her find the way back to town
herself. He waited a full week before he texted her.
Then another two days before he wrote an email. Then
another three days before he called.
"She was downright hostile. Like I was stalking her or
something. Like I was threatening her or something!!!
The bitch was getting psycho all over my ass. And I
don't really like that. I don't really appreciate being
treated like a piece of dirt just because mommy
suddenly remembered she had a family and a husband. So
I ask her to for another meeting. Not for a date or
anything. I just want her to sit in front of me and
tell me all this shit to my face. And she hangs up on
me."
Yeah, well...
"So I send her another email tomorrow. I explain
there's hardly need for this kind of behaviour and that
there should be no grudge held on either side. She
doesn't reply. I get really irritated. The bitch thinks
she can just cancel me out of existence like some
retarded moron she met at the mall? No fucking way. So
I text her demanding her to give me fifteen minutes of
her time and that, after that we can forget about each
other forever as far as I am concerned. And you know
what the crazy bitch does?"
Well, apparently, Susan called him. And she called him
to tell him that she has informed the police that there
was an assault on her. That she was sexually assaulted
by a black man of his description, in the street, near
her house. That she managed to get away and, no, she
doesn't know him, she has never met him, but that now
she is very scared for her safety. So the police tell
her everything will be OK and that there will be a 24/7
surveillance of her house until the suspect is
apprehended.
Susan did that, presumably to ensure he stays away.
Only that she didn't actually.
"You see, this is where being a lawyer comes in pretty
handy. You may not have many friends, but what you have
is contacts."
So he made a few phone calls. Turns out Susan's story
is rather grossly exaggerated.
"I knew there was no way the bitch would actually say
something like that aloud, let the hubby worry about
bad black men stalking the family house."
What Susan did was actually place an anonymous phone
call to the local precinct informing of a black man (of
the man's description) roaming the hood. She expressed
concern for the safety of women, children and property.
The police said they'd investigate.
"And, you see, this is when I realised the bitch needs
to be taught a lesson."
He looks behind us. And yells.
"Susan, let me tell you, next time you're bluffing make
sure you have a spare pair of tits ready. You might
need them!!!"
Chapter 6: 'All I Wanted For Christmas Was My Braces
Off'
"So, let me underline the fact that even though I am
doing you guys a favour here, it doesn't mean I won't
shoot your teenage ballsacs off if you don't behave.
Are we on the same page?"
He raises his eyebrows. We nod.
We are on the same page. It's the only page there is
here, really. There is no choice. I keep telling that
to myself. There is no choice. And even if there was...
He turns towards Susan. The woman is trembling. Her
body is glistening with sweat. Her breasts are deep
blue with trapped blood and her nipples are so hard as
if they are about to burst. She barely keeps her
balance on her toes.
"This is it, darling. We've reached a satisfying common
ground here. You're going to get it now, whore. You're
gonna get it in all your holes. Are you excited, eh?"
As he approaches her, she shakes her head in helpless
refusal. She's heard it all, she knows what's going to
happen. She should be happy that her agony will be cut
short, but of course it's only to be replaced by a
different kind of torture. She can not even back off.
Any moves she makes in attempt to get away from her
tormentor put additional strain on her breasts.
Poor Susan. Poor Susan makes my cock go hard again. The
turn of events, as it happened is like something out of
an acid trip fantasy. My cock is going hard again
thinking of what happens now.
The man gets a switchblade from his pocket. The blade
leaps forth on a soft button press. I see Susan's eyes
go wide with fear. She moans into her gag.
The man cuts the rope and Susan falls to her knees
first and then hits the ground. She stays lying there,
her body shivering. She managed to keep her tits on.
She should be congratulating herself.
"Right boys, who wants to go first?"
"Me, sir," says Billy, stroking his erect cock and
stepping up to Susan. "Can I go first?"
The man grins.
"One day you will learn that patience is a virtue,
young William." Then he winks. "But apparently this is
not that day. Sure you can go first. Ray doesn't seem
to mind. Do you, Raymond?"
I shake my head. Damn. I still need some time to get my
head around this.
"Young William is much obliged, I am sure. OK, Billy,
you are good to go then. Make us proud, son. Do you
know where you need to stick it?"
Billy smiles an evil smile.
"I'm gonna have her suck my cock first!"
"Excellent!!!" exclaims the man. "Nothing like some
foreplay to get both partners in the mood!!"
"And then I'm gonna fuck the bitch!!!"
So... Billy is not exactly imaginative when it comes to
this stuff. Well, his excuse could be that he is
technically still a virgin.
The man uses his knife to cut the ropes tied around
Mrs. Evans' breasts.
"Let's give those tits some room to breathe. Not that
you deserved it, mind you, but I imagine the boy might
like to do some of his own thing there."
Susan moans painfully, her face expressing the agony
she must be experiencing as the ropes are removed and
the bloodstream returns to its natural way of
functioning.
"Oh, does it hurt? Does it hurt, darling? Sorry to hear
that. Here, let daddy help."
With these words, he starts massaging her breasts.
Well, massaging is probably an overstatement. What he
does is actually brutal squeezing. Susan screams in
pain, spit running down her chin, as she tries to back
away from him. But doing that while on one's knees is
nearly impossible and anyway, he's got firm hold of her
tits. He twists her nipples viciously, pulling them
away from her body and crushing them between his big,
black fingers.
"How's that feel, eh? You feeling horny yet?"
Then he starts slapping her breasts. I look at Billy
and he can barely breathe as he squeezes his cock.
The man slaps her tits taking obvious pleasure. He hits
her and then waits a couple of seconds until Susan's
screaming passes its peak. Then he hits the other tit.
And when she least expects it, he slaps her face,
savagely. Susan falls backwards to the floor, but he
brings her back to her knees by pulling on her nipples.
"Up, whore, up, up, up, up. No time for lying around,
your pussy needs to be drilled."
He slaps her again. And again and again. For no good
reason, just because he can and because she can't back
away, can't escape.
"You like this? You like to be slapped, whore?"
Susan is crying and trying to hide her head between her
shoulders.
The offer you can not refuse. How many times have I
heard this phrase? It's so common, so overused that we
forget not only its origin but also its true meaning.
It's about the cancellation of choice. The ominous,
evil offer that you will accept because refusing it
will mean you perish. But, also an offer that, deep
inside you, you welcome, an offer that speaks to your
innermost wishes and dreams. The offer that makes you
forget most of what you learned in your life because it
removes the guilt, leaving you only with excitement.
Excitement. Arousal. Animalistic need.
The man grabs Susan's hair.
"I think we're ready to remove the gag now. You hear
that, Susan? You should be happy. Not that your jaw
will get any rest, mind you, but at least the plastic
will be replaced by cock. And you're gonna treat it
well, hear me? You're gonna show us how you love cock
in your mouth and in your throat. You're gonna convince
everyone how you are literally dying to get some cock
in you. Or your tits are going to get some way rougher
treatment. Do we have an understanding here?"
He holds Susan's head tightly in place. He makes her
look straight into his eyes.
"Nod if you understand, bitch."
Susan is crying. The shivering makes her look ill. She
nods. Her breathing is irregular, her tits jumping up
and down. I see marks on them where the ropes used to
be.
"Excellent. Remember, you're doing it for the camera,
so give it your best."
The camera. A small, elegant DV cam that the man
carefully fished out of his bag is the actual
cornerstone of the plan he had for the evening. The
rape, the punishment, the humiliation, all of this was
a nice pastime but without the camera it wouldn't have
been possible.
What the man had planned for tonight was not just to
rape and humiliate Susan (presumably because she
humiliated and insulted him with her behaviour) but to
humiliate and rape her for the camera. And also to have
her act for the camera. To make her appear as if she is
enjoying the treatment she is getting. To make her say
stuff that will prove to anyone willing to watch that
she is indeed a slut she professed herself to be in her
ad and in her emails and in her text messages.
"Simple and perfect insurance," reasoned the man. "She
goes to hubby and complains about this nasty black man
raping her and fucking her against her will and hubby
gets the tape that shows her begging this nice black
man to fuck her and treat her like a whore. Not to
mention how this shit would look in court. I bet the
crowds would be stepping over each other's heads to get
into the courtroom."
All told in cheerful, enthusiastic tones.
So, where do we fit? Where do two dumb teenagers with
stubborn cocks fit? Glad you asked.
The man explained that we were an undesired distraction
of course. So shooting us seemed like the best possible
solution. Dead men tell no tales, even stupid dead
kids. (I am sure he was bluffing) (Pretty sure) But
then he remembered that there was no need for such
drastic actions.
The offer he made us, that we could not refuse, was
simple. We become partners in crime. We rape Susan as
well. With him filming us. With him filming Susan
asking us to fuck her dirty pussy and come in her
filthy mouth.
At first both of us started shrieking in unison, our
disgust and refusal convincing, righteous even. This
was unthinkable. How could he even say it with a
straight face?
But when I felt the barrel of his gun on my chest, cold
metal pressed into me mercilessly, threateningly I went
quiet instantly.
"I am not discussing this with you," said the man
slowly, carefully pronouncing every word, as if talking
to a small child. "I am just telling you how it will
be. You can be smart, which, admittedly, you haven't
been showing much capacity for, or you can be stupid.
But in both cases, you'll do it. Only, in case of the
stupid version, you first get hurt and then you get to
do it."
(He was bluffing) (He must have been)
"So, don't tell me you even want to think about it.
Come on, you guys are dumber than an entire state of
lemmings but seriously, how hard can this be to grasp?"
None of us could think of anything to say.
"Jesus." The man scratched his forehead. For a moment
he looked like our principal. "You, Billy, you look
like the simpler of the two!"
"Yes... sir" answered Billy reluctantly.
"You have been stalking the slut for months, right?"
"Yes... yes, sir..."
"Right. And you stood outside her window waiting for
her to drop the panties and show you some of that
pussy. Right?"
"Ri.. right,... sir..."
"And you jerked off watching her. And you probably
jerked off at home as well, locked in your bathroom,
thinking how totally cool it would be to fuck this
bitch. Am I right in assuming all this, son?"
Billy swallowed audibly, his throat probably as dry as
mine. Sitting naked on the floor in front of an armed,
violent man will do that to you.
"Y... yes... You... This is... um.. yeah..."
"Come on, son there's no need to be ashamed of this.
After all, you can see that the woman we are talking
about has no shame at all, so please relax and speak
freely. You fantasised of fucking this woman here. You
blew your load many times thinking of sticking it up
her pussy, right?"
"Yes... yes, sir."
Amazingly, the man's encouragement seemed to be working
on Billy.
"And you probably imagined her doing everything you
asked her to, am I right? You probably called her names
in your fantasies, perhaps even fantasised about having
her helpless and totally at your disposal, right?"
Ashamed, I felt my cock go really hard. God damned
lawyers. God damn them. There's a good reason no one
mourns when they die.
Billy nodded, breathless and red in the face. I could
see he was hard as well.
"Well, son, help yourself then." The man pointed at
Susan with his gun.
"No, no, sir, no, please, no... thank you, but, no...
no, I can't, sir, no."
Billy's refusal sounded honest and genuine. I felt the
same way. We are not scum. We may be dumb kids but we
are not scum.
"Raymond, please remind your friend that we are not
discussing options here. I am trying to explain to you
kids that you don't get to choose what you do. Just
like Susan lost her options some time ago. She chose to
be a bitch, well, fair enough, we serve all kinds of
justice over here. And you guys chose to be intrusive
little shits with dysfunctional brains, that's fair
enough too. Now you get to do what I say."
"Please, sir, please, we can't, we can't, please, just
let us go, we won't tell anyone, please."
I know I sounded like a bitch myself. I know.
"I like you Raymond, I really do," laughed the man.
"You could almost convince a judge or a parole officer
with your pussy-ass whiny acting. That's useful where I
work at." He leaned towards me and, instinctively I
pulled back. "But, see, the thing is, I am not fucking
interested in the least in your pussy-ass acting." He
stepped back.
"I'm telling you kids, if you were any more stupid
you'd be growing up in greenhouses and fed manure
instead of Big Macs. I want both of you to pay
attention now because I am going to start breaking your
fingers if you don't and then there'll be some really
hard stuff to explain to your moms."
Yeah, OK, perhaps he WAS bluffing. Perhaps he was.
"You're both dumb kids with hard cocks. You both
stalked this woman for months, jerking off religiously
under her window. You both fantasised of fucking her
like a two dollar whore all that time. And now you'll
do it. And you're going to fucking like it. Because
there's no other option. Don't you see? She has no
option than to let you fuck her.
"You can do anything to her now, literally anything,
you can fuck her and gag her with your cock, you can
slap her around and fuck her ass and piss in her mouth,
you can have her eat your ass, anything you can think
of, which, knowing you kids, probably isn't much. But,"
he made a pause there to emphasise the importance of
the situation "the nice thing about it is that she will
have to accept it all and never tell anyone about it. I
see you're starting to see the advantages of the
situation, Raymond."
I felt like dying of shame right there as he was
pointing to my now rock-hard penis. His words made me
hard and aroused. Fuck!! Fucking lawyers and their
patented confusion tactics! No fucking way, no fucking
WAY!!!
"So, you're starting to get it, eh? You can do anything
to Susan tonight and go home free. All I want you to do
is do it for the camera because I want to be sure you
guys don't get any stupid ideas tomorrow morning.
Although," he added in a sorrow-filled voice "expecting
you to have any ideas is probably too much to start
with.
"The general idea is there: you take this whore any way
you want now and tomorrow when you see her in the
street she will be acting as if nothing happened. She
won't tell her hubby. She won't go to the cops. She
won't be calling your mothers or your principal. You
fuck her up any way you want tonight and tomorrow she
will act as if nothing happened. Because, otherwise,
she knows her life as she knows it will come to an end.
Am I right Susan?"
The sounds of muffled crying of a woman practically
hanging on her tits. A woman humiliated beyond anything
I was able to imagine by that point.
And I... I was the one to contribute to further
humiliation. That's when I knew it. Listening to her
muffled sobs and pleas. The realisation how much her
helplessness turns me on. The realisation of power I
had over her. The awesome, electrifying power. God...
God... I'd do it, I knew I'd do it.
"You get a gift very few people can hope for in their
entire miserable lives!!!" The man sounded like a
prophet speaking on top of the mountain. He even spread
his arms like one. "You get for free what businessmen
and politicians pay serious money for. You get a free
shot at something that would otherwise have you ending
in prison. You get to rape this dirty slut and you get
to walk free and stay free forever."
I looked at Billy. I could see his face and I could
read his mind. His simple, simple mind. Working in
unison with mine. Oh my God. Oh my God. Are we really
like this?
Chapter 7: 'I Ain't Thick, It's Just A Trick'
The man unbuckles the strap. The red ball falls out of
Susan's mouth. Susan starts sobbing in a loud, cracked
voice.
"I don't hear you thanking me for ungagging you, bitch.
You're as ungrateful as you ever was!"
Susan is trying to make the best of the relative
freedom granted to her. She starts begging.
"Please, please, please, children, please, no, please
no, please, I'm begging you!"
Billy approaches slowly as the man holds Susan upright
in her kneeling position. Despite her struggling and
thrashing, she is held firmly in place, her head at
just the right height.
"Mrs. Evans, you understand there is no choice here for
you or me. Better make it as painless as possible."
Billy is very calm and reasonable. Which is so fucking
scary. Ask Susan. Just ask her as he stands in front of
her and his rock-hard cock touches her face. She pulls
her head as far back as she can, which is not very far
at all, seeing how the man holds her steadily in place.
"No... please... no... no... my God, please, how can
you? I know you, I know both of you, I know your
mothers, please, how can you?"
I think Billy is beyond reasoning now. He probably
doesn't even hear her any more. The sound of his own
blood in his ears is probably cutting everything else
off. What Susan doesn't understand is: even if he can
hear her, the words she is using, the tone of her
voice, all that makes her even more desirable, sexy and
fuckable.
She is effectively advertising herself better than
anything. I know this because I feel my cock protesting
that it has to wait its turn. Fuck. Fucking slut.
Fucking slut, Susan. Fucking slut, This is your fault.
This IS your fault. This is YOUR fault. Not ours
So Billy decides to stop wasting time and to cut
Susan's pleas short. He basically grabs her head with
both hands and pulls her onto his cock.
Aww, fuck, God. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Billy, fuck...
I watch Billy fuck her face with such relentless force
that I almost blow my load right there. His ass moves
like a fucking piston forwards-backwards, in and out,
as he sticks his cock into her mouth all the way down
to his hairy balls. Then he pulls out to about halfway
and then slams back in. All the time, he pulls her head
towards him for every subsequent thrust. This is
Billy's first time after all and he's making it
memorable.
I know I will be remembering it, because I see it all.
I see the nervous, almost maniacal jerks of his lower
abdomen, I see his balls hit her chin every time he
goes into her throat. And I see her eyes, open wide,
full of blood, trying to pop out of her skull every
time he sticks it in. I hear her groan like a pig as
Billy rapes her mouth and the big black man behind her
smiles and tapes the proceedings with his sexy little
DV cam.
"Take it, take it, you dirty slut, suck on that cock,
choke on that fucking cock you slut!!" The stream of
insults coming out of Billy's mouth is interrupted only
when he takes the time to spit in her face. A large gob
of spit lands on Susan's forehead and slowly makes its
way down, into her left eye.
"Ho ho ho, I'd say the kid has some issues, eh?" The
man looks at me as if to say that even he is surprised
with the utmost fierceness of Billy's performance.
"Good for the video, but I have to say that he'll
dislocate the bitches jaw if he goes on like this. Not
that I mind but I am not sure about you Ray. You don't
mind getting secondhand goods?"
I can't really answer this. I am too ashamed and too
aroused.
And Billy is having the time of his life. An angry,
violent time, no less.
"You love this, bitch, you love my cock in your throat,
you cock-hungry slut. Tell me you love it, tell me how
much you love my cock!!!"
He pulls out but Susan seems to only be able to beg.
"Please, please, PLEASE, I can't take this, please,
Billy, I'm begging you, please!!!"
He slaps her. Very hard. When the man did it, it looked
vicious, cruel, but controlled. Billy demonstrates no
such thing as control. He slaps her so hard she almost
falls to the floor. Billy pulls her back up and screams
to her face.
"Fucking BITCH!!! I said I want to hear you say how
much you love my cock in your throat!!! Is that so hard
to remember? Eh?"
The man seems to be having fun too.
"Come on, Susan, remember the deal. You have to show
the boys some lovin'. Otherwise we could be here all
night."
She can't do it, naturally. So Billy slaps her once
again and then backhands her with such force she falls
down.
"Get up!!! Get UP!!! I wanna hear you say it, slut!!!"
She is pulled up to her knees again and the man points
the camera to her face.
Susan is so scared I almost feel pity for her. The
teenage kid from the neighbourhood turns out to be a
sadistic tormentor. Get your head around that, Susan.
Get it. You're not that stupid. You have no choice, you
stupid, fucking bitch.
"please..." she whispers, trying to hide her face from
him.
"Say it!!!" he screams at her, raising his fist.
"Oh God... Oh God...." She sobs and shivers and her
whole body trembles.
"Out with it, bitch!!!"
"Billy..." she changes her voice.
She changes her voice.
"Billy... Please..."
She changes her voice. She starts acting.
"Please Billy... give me your cock... please, baby... I
need it so bad..."
This is unbelievable. This woman... This woman is such
a fucking slut.
The man laughs and cheers nodding behind his camera.
"That's what I'm talking about, baby!!!"
"Let me hear more of it, slut, let me hear you say
it!!!"
She barely loses it but then she takes a deep breath,
probably remembering what he'll do to her.
"Please, Billy, I need your cock, give me your cock,
I'm so horny..."
"You SLUT!!!" screams Billy. "You cheap fucking horny
slut, you've been eyeing my cock all evening!! You love
my cock, don't you?"
Her shivering barely under control she nods.
"I love it, baby. It's so hard, so big..."
"Have you ever seen such a big cock, slut, eh?"
The man looks at me and rolls his eyes comically. Then
he smiles dismissively.
"No, baby, never, your cock is the biggest, most
beautiful cock I ever saw. Please baby, give it to me,
I need it so bad..."
She does this really well. God, she is a slut. Such a
slut. I don't care that she is forced to say these
things. I know she's rehearsed them many times in her
head. Fucking slut.
And Billy slaps her again. And again, viciously,
brutally. Her head snaps to left and right.
"You dirty slut! You cheap whore!! Take that!! Take
that!!!"
He grabs her hair. I see a thin trail of blood coming
down from her nose. Billy sticks his cock into her
mouth once again and fucks her with twice as much force
as before. The man tapes everything from close
distance.
"I'm gonna fuck your fucking throat bitch. Gonna choke
you on my fucking cock, slut!!! Gonna make you remember
this night!!! Arrrrgghhh, you fucking cunt!!!!"
This is actually his final insult in this series.
Because Billy is finished. Billy pulls out of her mouth
and starts shooting his virgin cum all over Susan's
face. The jets are thick, incredibly intense and
there's tons of the stuff. In a matter of seconds,
Susan's face is covered with pearly white cum. She has
it on her forehead and on her cheeks. Some of it ends
up in her hair. She closes her eyes and gets cum on her
eyelids. Billy is shouting and cursing all the way.
"You bitch, you dirty fucking bitch!!!! Here's your
prize, whore, here's your meal for tonight, whore!!!"
His cum mixes with her blood and the spit he follows it
with. It runs down her chin and falls on her tits. She
is completely covered in it, like the cheapest porno
slut from any of those gonzo clips I keep downloading
off the Internet.
Jesus... This... This is unbelievable...
"I thought you said you were going to fuck her as well,
kid? What happened to the plan, eh?" The man teases
Billy but I don't think anything can disturb his sense
of triumph this very moment. Right now, his head is so
high up above the clouds that he'll probably get
fucking sunburns from unfiltered sunlight.
"This is it, bitch, this is it, you got what you
deserve, bitch. I hope you liked it, bitch!!!!"
Billy doesn't smoke. Except for a joint here and there.
If he were smoking though, this would be a moment for
him to light one. Instead he just throws himself on the
sofa and decides to sit there his arms and legs spread,
demonstrating what a good but hard job he's just done.
And if I had any doubts so far, I discover they're
gone. No more doubts. I have to fuck her. I will fuck
her. I will fuck Mrs. Evans like a whore. Because she
is a whore. A slut.
"You gonna let the lady wait here all night pretty boy,
or you gonna show her some tricks of your own?" The man
is cheerful, in a good mood. After all, he has us all
where he wants us to be. And where we want to be, so
help us God. As much as he has to keep Susan tied down
and threaten her all the time to keep her under
control, he doesn't have to do or say anything to me
any more. I need to fuck her so bad my stomach hurts.
"I'm gonna fuck her, sir. I'm gonna fuck her from
behind like a bitch."
"Whoa, good choice there, son!! Please, whenever you
feel like it."
Then he pushes Susan head-first to the sofa.
"You hear that, slut? You hear what the popular opinion
in the hood is? That you're a slut. That you're a bitch
that people fuck from behind because they can't stand
to look into her dishonest prostitute face. You hear
that?"
Susan is crying large, hot tears. The mess on her face
becomes even more complicated from it.
"no, no, no, please, Ray, please I'm begging you,
please, have heart, think of your mother, please,
please..."
I feel the anger build in me and it's a good feeling.
"You leave my mother out of this, slut!!!" I scream as
loud as Billy used to. "You hear me??? Eh? Leave my
mother out of this!!! She's not a whore like you,
Susan!! She's not a dirty cumslut like you!!!"
I push her face down to the sofa. I can't take it for
much longer, the pressure is too fucking high.
"I'm gonna fuck you now, whore!!! I'm gonna fuck your
dirty old cunt, whore!!! You're gonna love it!! You're
gona tell me you love it!!!"
I grab her hair and pull her head up. I don't seem to
be able to make my mind up. So many possibilities. So
much I can do.
"You hear me? You tell me you want to be fucked from
behind like a bitch!!! Come on, tell me!!! I know
you've been dreaming about this, I've seen you look at
me in the street, whore!!!"
"no Ray, please, please, I'm begging you, please..."
She can barely whisper these words because she's
choking on tears.
"SAY IT!!!!" I scream, pulling her head back so that
she has to face me. Her face is still all messed up
with cum, spit and blood. And I contribute to the mess
by spitting into her open mouth and onto her cheek and
into her hair. "Say it or I am going to fucking knock
your teeth out, whore!!! Just push me!!!"
She's choking on tears and her breathing is jerky, like
she's having an epileptic seizure.
And then she makes the effort. She really does. And she
says it.
"Oh God... God..." her voice trembles. "God... Ray...
Fuck me, fuck me, please, I can't take it any more,
stick your cock inside of me, please, I'm begging you ,
fuck me..."
And that's it. That's fucking it. I believe it that
moment. I believe every single fucking word. Because I
want to believe. I need to believe. I believe every
single fucking word she whispers in that sexy low
voice. And I penetrate her from behind. She screams.
She's dry. And I don't give a fuck. I am so hard I
don't give a fuck. I pull out and spit in my hand and
rub some of my spit onto my cock. And I put it back in.
I grab her arms, still tied with that nasty rope and I
start pulling her onto my cock.
This is unbelievable. This is fucking unbelievable. I
have had sex before. I have had sex before, but this is
something completely different.
To feel her mature pussy around my cock. To feel the
flesh part as she is forced to take it all the way down
to the balls.
"You fucking slut, I'm gonna fuck you all the way down
to your womb!!!"
To feel her body tremble as I rape her. To feel her
trying to move away from me and the hurt I am causing.
Perhaps someone else in the room is saying something
but I can't hear anything, because I only listen to
Susan.
To hear her scream in pain as I rape her old, dry
pussy.
There is nothing better than this.
I have had sex before but it wasn't like this. It was
nothing like this.
There's nothing like this.
I don't care how much she hurts, I don't care how much
she hates me. I don't care how much she begs and
pleads. I fuck her like a bitch and my innards are on
fire.
"You slut!! You fucking slut. You need cock, don't you?
Your husband doesn't give you enough cock, does he?
I don't care how much she hurts. I don't care how much
my words hurt. I want her to hurt. I want her to
suffer.
So I pull out. Unlike Billy I have had sex before. So I
can control my self a little better. Tiny little bit.
This is it, bitch, this is it, bitch, you're getting it
all the way, whore.
I spit on my cock again. Then I let go of Susan's arms
and spread her ass cheeks as wide as they will go.
"Check this shit out bitch!!"
I start pushing my cock into her ass. And Susan starts
screaming and thrashing like an animal trapped and
fighting for her life.
"Nooo!!! Pleaseee!!! Please, not there, please
pleaseeeeee!!!!!"
There is nothing better than this. I push my cock into
her tight ass listening to her scream and beg. It's so
tight it hurts but I don't give a fuck. I know how much
it must be hurting her. I push my cock in violently,
brutally until the head is in and then I pull back a
little, then thrust again.
And it's in, half of my cock is in her ass. I almost
faint with pleasure and pain. I start pulling back and
pushing it further down her ass. I am barely aware that
the man comments on my choice of orifice in a half
admiring, half jocular fashion. I don't give a fuck.
There's nothing better than this.
"You love it, whore, you love it in your ass, don't
pretend you don't, I can tell you love it!!!!"
I babble on as Susan's screams grow progressively less
verbal. I can see the veins on her neck bursting with
the effort as she buries her face into the sofa and
screams her lungs out. I slam into her all the way. I
slam into her, crushing my balls against her ass
cheeks. I slam into her, my cock splitting her dirty
slut ass in two.
I slam into her and something breaks inside of me.
"Oh my God..." is all I can say before I realise I am
coming. I am coming and it feels like my whole body is
falling apart, like every bone inside of me is turning
to jelly and like every muscle in my body is turning to
vapour. My pelvis now has a life of its own as it
twitches uncontrollably, sticking my cock into Susan as
far as it'll go. I am pumping her ass full of my hot
teenage cum while she screams as if she was being torn
apart and there is nothing better than this.
Chapter 8: 'Ebony Tears'
The man left smiling and waving his regards to me and
Billy. We were unable to speak. Or even move. He
laughed as he was slamming the door behind him, shaking
his head and mumbling to himself about the stupidity of
the teens today.
Before he did, he untied Susan, though, carefully
putting the rope in his bag. She just stayed where I
left her, kneeling on the floor, her face buried in the
sofa, crying silently, cum trickling from her gaping
asshole.
He pushed her with his foot.
"I suggest you go to the bathroom and work on yourself
a bit, bitch. Frankly, you look like shit that's been
around a little too long."
He looked at me and Billy, lying naked and breathing
hard.
"As for you, kids, I wouldn't be sticking around too
long admiring my work. The family is bound to be back
soon and then all the efforts I have made to ensure you
little bitches walk clean from here will be in vain."
Then he left.
I don't know. I don't really remember how we got up and
got dressed. My head was still full of some white
fluffy stuff. I barely registered Susan getting up and
painfully making her way to the bathroom. I don't think
she looked our way at all.
I am not sure if we put our clothes on while still
indoors or in the garden. I don't remember which way we
took to get to our homes.
I remember not talking to Billy until it was the time
for him to go his way and me to go mine.
"Dude..." I hesitated. "I'll call you tomorrow. We need
to talk."
But he shook his head.
"No. Don't. There's nothing to talk about."
"Dude, man..."
"There's NOTHING to TALK about, Ray, you hear me?
Nothing happened tonight, Ray, OK? Nothing happened
tonight!!! Don't ever talk to me about tonight!!!"
And he just turned and left.
So I made my way to my backyard quietly and got into my
room quietly. I was supposed to be grounded anyway so I
made the arrangements before I left.
I am in my room. Safe. The house is quiet. The TV is
on, but muted. I play some hip-hop in the background. I
look for a joint I stashed under the bed some days ago.
Nothing happened.
Yeah.
I feel sick.
The joint will make me OK.
What happened?
What the fuck happened?
I rub my eyes. They hurt.
I wonder whether I'll be able to sleep.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 44