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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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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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type of literature, or you are under age,
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2010. Please
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Acid Rain
by Frank T. Gilson (address withheld)
***
Her nails ripped furrows in my flesh as her body
straightened, back arched, shaking. As I came, flooding
her, matching her orgasm with mine, I ripped the left
bedpost and thus my arm, free. I threw myself forward,
flipping her off me and onto the floor. (MF, rough-sex,
bd, v)
***
I pulled up to the curb and switched off my car, just
as it started to rain. I'd listened to the morning news
so I had made sure to put on my environment suit before
leaving the Federal Building. As the auto-valet pulled
my car into the hotel's car storage area, I climbed the
short flight of stairs. The annoying, but necessary
rinse off over, I removed the suit and went over to the
check-in desk.
"Clean skies to you, sir. How may I assist you?"
The clerk attempted to hide a cough behind a gloved
hand as I looked him over. I flashed him my badge.
"I need to know what room Dana Maris is staying in and
whether or not she has received any calls or messages
since yesterday afternoon."
As the clerk called up the relevant data on his
terminal, I checked the screen's reflection in the
polished marble wall behind him. I was unsure whether
she was still in her room.
"She's in room 4005. No messages since yesterday, but
she did receive one phone call at nine P.M. last
night."
He had neglected to add that the call lasted only 30
seconds or that she had made three calls of
approximately 45 seconds each immediately afterwards.
The 'client present' flag was blinking, so unless Dana
had unusual pull with the hotel, she should be up
there.
"Thanks. I'm now going to go up to her room. Don't
signal her or you will be in violation of federal law.
Don't call anyone she may have told you to."
The clerk looked nervous and coughed again. I gave him
that stern, commanding look they tell you to use. It
never works so I slipped him 50 dollars.
The elevator had an attendant, in keeping with the
expensive room rates. I told him to take me to the 40th
floor. The hum of the elevator was almost inaudible and
it accelerated and decelerated smoothly. The doors slid
open and I left to find room 5.
After a foyer of the same marble as the lobby desk, a
long hall with nine doors stretched out before me. With
four doors to either side, any reasonable numbering
sequence would put hers at the end. One sane numbering
sequence later, I was facing her door. I knocked, not
using the palm plate signal. I didn't want her to know
who it was, yet.
I could almost imagine the click of her heels as she
walked towards the door. I could almost smell whatever
perfume she would be wearing. I unfortunately was not
prepared for the door to snap open and a taser to be
jabbed in my gut. Brief flashes of black stiletto heels
and an expensive Chanel perfume stabbed into my mind as
I collapsed to the floor. My head hit the doorframe, my
consciousness left with my breakfast.
A swirl of pain and blurred vision greeted my return to
the waking world. I could taste vomit, and blood from a
split, swollen lip. It felt as though I was on a soft
surface, like a bed. My wrists and ankles testified
that I was tied down. As the visual details of my
surroundings sorted themselves out, my conjectures
about ties and a bed proved true. Since the decor
matched the hotel's, I surmised the bedroom to be the
one in room 4005. I couldn't have been out longer than
about 30 minutes, judging from the state of the cut on
my lip.
"Ms. Maris, I assume you are still here. I must inform
you that assaulting a federal agent is punishable by
imprisonment and forced reeducation."
She walked in from the living room, a smile on her
face, a glass of wine in her hand.
"You aren't in a position to arrest me. My previous
crimes, which I assume brought you here, outweigh this
little one. I'm afraid I would be in for more than
reeducation."
She wore a tight, leather dress. It ended quite a bit
above the knee. Her color appeared to be black, from
hair to eyes, from dress to stockings to heels. That
damn Chanel scent only helped to drive home her beauty.
"Then I assume you intend to leave me here and make
good your escape?"
She laughed. I hate that. It means they've got
something they want to do to you. She walked around the
bed, to the left side, and brushed some of my hair from
my forehead with her hand.
"Isn't that a nasty bump you have? I hope you don't
mind the pain. I enjoyed using the taser on you. In
answer to your question, I intend to enjoy myself. I
intend to enjoy you."
On the bedside table I could see my gun in its holster.
She opened one of the drawers and removed one of those
new plasti-knives. They can score steel plate. They cut
flesh like butter. Dana then proceeded to cut my
clothing from my body. What she intended to do finally
percolated through my pain fogged mind.
"Rape? Are you trying to compensate for an oppressive
father? Failed relationships?" The sarcasm evoked a
frown from her. "But tell me one thing. Will you kill
me afterwards?"
"Psychoanalyzing me won't work, Mr. Federal Agent Man.
I may kill you, or I may not. If it feels very, very
good, I could let you live."
Testing my bonds, I felt that the left bedpost,
securing my left wrist, was somewhat loose. Dana had
finished cutting the clothes from me. She stood up and
unzipped her leather dress, letting it fall to the
floor. It was tough not to get a raging hard on at the
sight of her nearly naked body. Taut, toned muscle
revealed itself, dispelling any mystery of how she had
carried me to the bed. She wasn't wearing a bra, or
panties. Just a garter belt to hold up her stockings.
As she reached down to unhook one, I spoke, figuring I
should play along.
"Don't. I'll like it better if you leave them on.
Please?"
She gave me a suspicious look, but left the stockings
on. The bed was long enough for her to kneel between my
legs. She lowered her head to my cock, her hair
cascading about my thighs and stomach. Taking the head
of me into her mouth, she caressed it with her tongue.
Any thought of holding back, any attempt at resistance,
melted away. A stone cold corpse's limp prick would
have stood at attention for her.
Satisfied at my reaction and my hardness, she left the
bed to return to the table. Out of that same drawer
came a little jar of lubricant. I was confused, surely
-she- could get wet enough. Dana got back on the bed,
straddling my thighs. She applied a thick coat of the
lube to my cock. Then, one hand behind her aiming me,
the other supporting her weight, she took me into her
ass. She just sat right down and took the length of me
inside her with one stroke. To my surprise, my erection
didn't shrink. If it could have gotten harder, it would
have.
Bringing the hand she'd used to aim me around to her
front, she plunged a finger into her pussy. Then two
fingers, then three. Her thumb buzzed her clit like an
angry insect. She slid up, then down, up, then down,
her short strokes insuring I didn't fall out. Driven by
what I was feeling, by the warm, soft walls of her ass
around my cock, I began to thrust up to meet her, to
move away when she did. Retaining something of my
rational self, I also began to pull at my bonds in time
to our movements.
Her motion got faster. Her lips pulled back from
clenched teeth. She shuddered, eyes fluttering, and
threw herself forward, nails raking my chest, and bit
my split lip, tasting my blood.
"Don't worry dear, don't worry. Ohhhh, we're almost
finished, almost."
I'd slipped out of her, but she didn't seem to care.
Her concern was wholly for her own pleasure, not mine.
She was stealing it from me, bit by bit. She knelt over
my abdomen, on leg to either side, and slid a finger up
her ass. She pinched one of my nipples with her other
hand and rubbed her pussy against me. She stopped and
looked me in the eyes.
"Are you a good little pussy eater? Hmmmmm? Maybe if
you eat me real good you can live."
I didn't feel much like eating pussy, with the remains
of vomited breakfast and blood still in my mouth, but I
resolved to eat her like no one had before. She moved,
on her knees, towards my mouth. She took the bed's
headboard in both hands, and kneeling in front of my
tied-back arms, pushed her pussy into my face. The
salty-sweet wetness of her stung my wound. I took one
of her pussy lips between my teeth, gently nipping her.
She convulsed and she moaned. My tongue took on a life
of its own, tasting her, licking her. I went as deep in
her as I could, licking, using my lips on hers. Her
hips bucked against my face and her juices flowed
freely down my chin, dripping onto my chest.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, Ohhhhhhhhhh, Yes, yes, yes, yes, so
good..."
My tongue left, for the moment, the depths of her, to
move its attentions to her clit. At that change of
targets, her hands moved from headboard to head,
fingers entwining in my hair. I licked her clit, I
sucked it, I nibbled it. I flattened my upper lip
against my teeth and rubbed that clit as I again
tongued her insides. Almost a river of cum poured out
of her. She shuddered, back arched, eyes closed.
"I've, I've really never.. Ohhh... never had it...
Mmmm... quite so good."
Dana got up and moved back down between my legs.
"My, my, the federal agent's penis is still hard. I
can't let that condition continue."
She again straddled me, but this time a little farther
back than before. She rose up over me, and with one
hand guided herself onto me. Slowly she took me into
her pussy, torturously inching herself down, until
finally, I was hilted inside her.
"Ahhhhhhhh. You've been in my mouth... in my ass...
I'll bet this is better. Yessss."
And it was better. It was like her pussy was made to
fit me. Her ass had been tight, her pussy wasn't, but
it wasn't loose either. She continued in long, slow
strokes, absentmindedly playing with her clit and one
breast. I felt a pressure building within me. My
breathing quickened, I pushed up to meet her
downstrokes. She sensed I was going to cum and slowed.
"Not yet, Mmmmmmm... I-I... Ohhhhhhh! I'm not ready..
not yet..."
Even over my orgasm she maintained control, not letting
me cum until she was finished. She leaned forward, over
me, and while continuing to work her clit with one
hand, used the other to pinch and twist my nipples and
scratch my chest. She was barely moving on me, using a
circular movement of her hips. I pulled on my bonds in
time with her motions. I could feel the bedpost my left
wrist was tied to weakening, loosening.
"You've been... Oh good. Ahhhhh... I... Oh! I have...
I'll have to kill you... Oh... Anyway, sorry.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Her nails ripped furrows in my flesh as her body
straightened, back arched, shaking. As I came, flooding
her, matching her orgasm with mine, I ripped the left
bedpost and thus my arm, free. I threw myself forward,
flipping her off me and onto the floor. The gun on the
bedside table beckoned. I answered its call. She
recovered almost instantly, the plasti-knife in her
hand. I brought the gun around to cover her.
"Don't do it, Dana. Your life is still worth something,
no matter your crimes."
She hesitated, I'll give her that, but in the end, with
animal fury, she flung herself at me. I fired the gun
into her, I fired again. Her arm, outstretched with
knife in hand, hit me first, the knife opening a
shallow gash from belly to shoulder. She wasn't moving,
just laying on top of me, not breathing. As our blood
mixed, I lost consciousness again.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 66