by CELENE CAREY
We spoke often, every night at around 7:30 pm he called, sitting over his microwaved meal and reading the day’s old news. We talked about anything and everything as long as it was something worth talking about, everything except what had happened and sex. Typical, I thought; once again he was forcing me to make the first move. Did he just think I was a desperate girl who knew nothing about sex and was dying to give away my virginity? But the truth must have been translucent if not transparent. I was desperate, but only for him. My body had given me no choice. It reflected my need for him, in the way I felt and in the way I acted, and in the way I had begun to treat Jonathan.
“My back feels as if it’s getting worse, though, I think I’ll look up a chiropractor in the yellow pages or something to have it looked at.”
“What part of your back?” he couldn’t hide the genuine concern as much as he tried to play bored of my tactics. If only they really were just tactics, though; my back was really fucked up.
“It’s mostly the lower part, really really low, my extreme lower back.” I heard him coughing as if he was choking on his grilled chicken breast and potato salad. I quietly laughed to myself; he thought I was being perverted.
“Bill, I’m serious, that was not a joke. It really does hurt, and it’s been hurting for a while now.”
“Okay, okay, my bad, but maybe you should get it looked at, if it’s that bad.”
“Yeah, maybe Becky can recommend somebody, somebody other than the lesbian masseuse from Handover she met at a bar, anyway.” Becky was always trying to mix me with her gay friends. I told her over and over again, I don’t swing that way.
“Masseuse?” He paused and my heart skipped a beat; was that a pang of jealousy or something? This call was just getting better, a girl loves to know when a man is jealous of her in the arms of another man, or woman in this case, since Becky was so determined.
“Ya, a masseuse, though I already told you both I’m not gay and I don’t like women...”
“If you wanted a massage you could’ve just said so, Veronica. Rather, ask politely, and I’d be happy to help you out.”
DING! The alarm bell went off in my head, kill two birds with this enormous boulder, I suppose? This was it; he’d played right into my hands. My nipples became the eyes that reflected the smiley face my heart was making, or so I thought… A woman still has to play hard to get, but I knew Bill was way too serious despite wanting me. I decided against it and jumped at the opportunity, since he had offered.
“Sure, I’d love a massage from you, you do have strong hands,” I chimed into the receiver. He was silent and then he cleared his throat. Minutes passed, “Bill?” The line hadn’t gone dead.
“I’m not sure we have an understanding. I don’t recall offering you a massage.”
What? I was dumbfounded. Is this man a psycho? Was he losing it?
“But, you just said…”
“I just said you should ask for a massage.”
I sighed. Oh, the game, does it ever stop?
“Sir, may I please have a message from your lovely hands?” I asked, using my most approved puppy face and baby voice, despite him not being aware of my expression.
“You know better than to sass me Veronica, but it’s late and I’m tired. It was a long week.” He exaggerated a yawn, I noted. Hmm, maybe he did have a humorous side. “You can come over tomorrow I guess, at about midday. I’ll text you the directions from Ray’s.”
Thank God he hadn’t said from my house because then a different “ding!” would’ve gone off. I’d been careful to ensure he never knew where my house was; after all, my house wasn’t just a house. It was a home. Jonathan and I’s home. I quickly accepted before I second-guessed what I was about to do. “Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
We hung up. I was elated. I was finally ready to pull out the big guns and show him what I was made of. Tomorrow would change everything, for better and possibly for worst. There would be release of my body and hopefully an ease on my mind.
Chapter 7
Bill
Veronica was due any minute now. She had told me she was on Topaz Crescent and that was only one turn and three blocks away from my building. It had been five minutes and she wasn’t walking. For the first in a very long time I was nervous, almost doubtful of my own sexual skills…almost. I had so many thoughts in my head that I forgot that she was only coming for a massage, not to my playroom.
Despite the sexual tension I was anticipating between us, I don’t think she was ready to submit to me yet. She knew all there was to know, but mentally I knew she was nothing but the novice she really was. She had surprised me by following complete details when I had instructed her to go to Ray’s and she sucked me clean in the closet, but sex with me would be different. Submitting to me would be different. I was apartment 23. The knocking on the door brought me back to the present as my anticipated future inched closer and closer. She’d been standing in my doorway in baggy baby-blue denims and a red striped baby tee. My dick awoke from its short-lived slumber. How was it possible that a woman clad in such unrevealing clothing had aroused me? It was simple… it was Veronica. She’d been wearing her innocence full force and her eyes had made me even harder.
“Welcome to my humble home,” I jeered at her, letting her in to examine my loft.
“Why thank you, Sir,” she said in a mimicking British accent and stepped in.
She walked to centre of the living room and slowly turned, looking around, absorbing the manly, yet stylish design of the red brick walls and scattered paintings. She’d focused on one specific piece, a duplicated version of Vermeer’s 1666 The Art of Painting. She studied it and moved on, shyly smiling, to the sofa and the 54” flat screen. I knew what she was wondering. I never watch T.V. She pointed to it and raised her left eyebrow.
“I know. I’m still 100% man. I’ve owned or own now, almost every piece of technology you can think of, even if I don’t use it.”
“Ahh” is all she said, plopped down in my lazy boy, and kicked her feet up. Petite feet, I thought. It was my turn to raise a brow. I’d never seen this side of her; I liked it. Another new side to the woman I had been planning to play like an instrument with my pianist hands.
“What? I have a bad back! I like to be comfortable so I forget about the pain,” she laughed and got up. “Bathroom? I’d like to get more comfortable. I hate wearing belts,” she said, pulling up her blouse hem and exposing a little of the bare flesh of her belly. My breath caught in my throat.
She innocently showed me her belt. I hadn’t noticed her bag. I think I noticed everything but the bag: the way her baby hair came down the side of her face, making a semi-circle as it curled in front of her ear, the small lining of fine hair leading up to her navel, no belly ring, but a belly button I thought was deep enough to feed water to a family.
“Down the hall to the left,” I managed, as I studied her physique.
She had better not come out in lingerie. Her back would never get better if I attacked her on my living room floor. My aggression plus the floor didn’t sound like a good remedy to a bad back. Carpet or no carpeting, I’d fuck her so hard I’d rub her out to nothing between myself and the floor. I paced and waited, imagined her in my spacious black and white bathroom, undressing, exposing herself, taunting me, dancing, moving her body ever-so-slowly, and I listened closely until I heard the door creek open. Moment of truth number one.
The moment I saw her, I had to turn my back to her. I headed straight for the kitchen, darted for the kitchen. I was solidly hard... granite hard... diamond hard... Veronica was too beautiful, too sexy, too fucking appealing for her own good. I'd never considered taking it by force until now. Would it be rape? I’d plead my case well. I didn’t lure her… or did I? Was I subconsciously planning my attack for today? My mind had gotten so crazy that I couldn’t follow it so well. I couldn't ruin this. I counted the Mississippis in my head until my dick was semi-hard, that was the best I could do for now. She had changed, looked
like she intended to be in my space for a while. I was man enough… I was going to deal with it.
She now wore a short, plaid pink, blue, and yellow spaghetti strap house dress that didn't require a bra, its torso fit to her curves and flared from the waist band down. The hair on the back of my neck grew stiff as my blood ran hot, straight to my dick. I had never seen so much of her skin. Her legs weren't given the mercy they deserved until now. She'd shaved them, maybe waxed them. They looked impeccably smooth, spotless, running up slender to her voluptuous thighs. Her breasts almost strained in her top. I wanted to set them free. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, breath in, breath out, three Mississippi, four…
I tore my eyes away from her legs, from her breasts, and refused the urge to look into her eyes. I dared a short look at her face and she looked victorious. Bitch. Two can play this game. My ego sufficed to calm my dick. No woman had such control over me. None ever would, much less a novice! How dare she play the temptress? And then act so naïve to my thirst? Two can play at this, I'll not stop until she kings me, or someone screams “uncle.” I'm sure it won't be me and a crown sounds pretty damn good. I smiled at her devilishly; she had no idea what she was in for.
"So, where are we gonna do this?" she asked, almost sounding like a cheap prostitute wondering-car or bushes, table or chair… not that I knew much about prostitutes. It came to mind, nonetheless. I curved the thought at her, ever giving her body so willingly and not for the right reason or to the right person.
"Oh, you probably don't want to be in my bed so soon, but we have no other options. It’s the third door on the left; I'll lead the way.” So soon? I could smell her pussy begging me to fuck her, or I imagined it. Imagined her talking, pleading the way she did at Ray’s when she was on her knees, looking into my eyes. Abandoning her bag on the floor by the lazy boy, I led her down the hall to my decoy bedroom. It was just a simple room with a dresser, boring bed, and night table set against pale blue walls. There were a few things hanging in the open closet. She looked around and said nothing.
"Okay, so lay on the bed and I'll go get you a towel to cover with," I said, and I left, leaving the door ajar behind me.
Chapter 8
Veronica
Bill's place was cosy, welcoming, but desperately needing the touch of a woman. For a small moment, I pictured being that woman. Would I be but a toy if I moved in? Would I be a trophy, just like the flat screen? I compared it to my and Jonathan’s place reluctantly; I preferred our place… I admired his taste, though. It was different, a mixture of hardcore, woodsy, and artistry. There was so much I didn’t know about him… like his favourite colour. I vaguely remembered him saying it was green, but men tended to think one thing and do another. I’d never seen him in a green shirt. I resisted the urge to go to his closet and inhale his scent; the sheets didn’t smell like him either, they smelled of fresh detergent and fabric softener.
I had purposefully chosen this dress because I knew it was short enough to keep him guessing, but wanting. And the material was perfect to expose hard nipples. Good choice, Veronica, I gave myself a mental pat on the back and waited for him to return, lying in the middle of the bed. He'd looked so appetizing in his navy-blue sweat pants with symmetrical white stripes going down the sides and a white round-neck t-shirt. I imagined his dick swinging around in full force beneath the mesh lining I assumed his pants had. He didn't see a thing coming.
***
Bill
I walked in and there she was, in the middle of the bed, lying face down. I could've done whatever I wanted to her, whatever I wanted. And lord knows I wanted to do so many things to her feminine body; Veronica was well-rounded.
“Do you want the towel?”
“No, that’s okay. I’d only use it if I were naked.”
I must have been losing my mind, how could just the word “naked” sound so utterly dirty? The word has been used in so many ways. Stop stalling, Bill, and get your ass in there.
“You don’t mind me seeing your underwear? Aren’t you a brave s...,” I trailed off; I had begun slowly pulling her dress up over her hips to access her back and exposed her bare ass. Veronica was ultimately playing with fire. And by fire, I meant the tingling sensation in my balls. I wanted to spill my seed all over her ass. It was scrumptious looking and I wanted to take a big bite out of it, sink my teeth slowly into her. Was this girl fucking mad? I’m sure she’d heard when my heart stopped beating and rebooted, coming back in a race, pounding against my sternum. I stood; I was too close to my limit. I locked it away, picked up my favourite KY Jelly, and proceeded with her massage, admiring the glistening of her moistened skin against the white linen bedspread. A body like this did not belong in this bed, in this room. I slowly circled my thumbs deeply between the dips that were her back dimples. Circling, I could feel the tension there, a knot. She really did have a problem my massage probably couldn’t help.
Slowly, transfixed, I rubbed the jelly into her skin, circularly and firmly, bringing my hands back and forth between her mid-back and ass crack. Her ass had been too tempting. Reapplying jelly to my hands and some to her lower back, I massaged across her lower back, to her sides, and down to her thighs, avoiding her ass cheeks so as to not feel too guilty. I listened to her soft moans and when my index finger slowly grazed the back of her knee she stirred, exposing a little of her cunt. And I’d lost the battle of the day.
Succumbing to temptation, I slowly worked the lubricant into her ass, massaging her bottom, feeling her flesh in my palms, groping her. She was so relaxed, almost as if she were asleep. She felt just as good as she looked. Slowly, I parted her legs. Her pussy was even better looking than her ass was. There was her plumped pearl, waiting for me, clit peeking through puffy lips. I’d slowly used my most moist finger to rub her exposed clit. Slowly, tracing up the fold to her entrance. All I needed to do was part her lips and all her rivers would run from inside her. Licking my finger, once, then twice, I savoured her. I had to have her, and now.
***
Veronica
There it was, his final moment of weakness. I laid in his bed, relaxed, thinking to myself. This is it. I was moaning softly as he rubbed my clit and sucked my flavour from his finger like a three year old licking his finger after dipping it in the honey jar. I felt him fighting himself, and then his mouth was on me. He straddled me, back turned to mine, and buried his face in my pussy. This is what it was like? Without my permission, my body began gyrating on his face. He parted my lips and nested his tongue between them and slowly, I rode it, basking in the ripples of pleasure as he alternated between sucking my clit and forcing his tongue as deep as he could. He continued and continued until, finally, my thighs clenched his face and I exploded onto and into his mouth... I laid there unable to move; I had never experienced an orgasm so intense. I felt drained. But obviously he was just getting started. The pain in my back was nowhere to be found.
If I had felt any better, I would have levitated to the roof. He had gotten up and walked over to the curtain. He took the curtain binder and bound my hands behind my back. Kinky. It finally begins. Next, he took a kerchief and blindfolded me. Slowly, he pulled me up by both arms.
“Kneel,” he commanded. His voice was softer than I expected. I knelt. “Find it,” he said. What? Shaking my head from side to side, he grabbed my hair, and pulled me closer; I didn’t have to guess how close his dick was to my face, I could feel the fire it radiated. Slowly seeking him out with my mouth closed the distance and it bumped into my face. The tip was wet, pre-cum... He took his cock in hand and rubbed the pre-cum on my lips, and with his thumb, tugged my bottom lip open; I obeyed and took it into my mouth. Slowly, I suckled. Unable to see, I felt like my sense of taste heightened; so did my hearing, as well as my ability to feel. It was nothing like the first time sucking his dick. My mouth knew him, not very well, but knew him all the same. The walls of my jaw studied every vein as I pumped him in and out of the corner of my mouth. His moans were my encouragement. He sat on
the side of the bed, pulling his dick out and pushing my head down to lick his balls. This was something new for me. I squinted my already blinded eyes closed and bared the feeling of prickly hairs and loose skin. After playing with his balls in my mouth for almost a minute and listening to the delicate moans coming from the back of his throat, I began to enjoy it. They were too fun to play with. In, out, in, out, in, out both in and out, and tickling them with my tongue.
Suddenly I felt myself being dragged up and thrown to the bed. I heard him rustling through things, then the ripping of a condom wrapper. Before I knew it, his hands held me by the neck, though not choking me. He slammed suddenly, forcefully, and deeply inside my walls. He began to rock, as if breaking in his new pussy. I adjusted to the feel of him there, and he adjusted his pace, slowly easing out of me and driving back in. His breathing raspy and his dick firmly nested, he began to apply pressure to his thrusts. I wanted to scream but couldn’t. I felt another orgasm building and my walls clenched, holding onto his hardness for dear life. As if my body had warned him, he pulled his dick out, eased the rest of my body onto the bed, and put me on my chin and knees. In a somewhat squatting position, he entered me slowly. He didn’t hesitate in picking up the pace again. I was on the verge of another orgasm; I moaned a muffled, “I’m coming.” He rammed harder and harder, covering my mouth, and then holding me in place by my mouth. Unable to talk, unable to move, unable to see, my body was completely his to do with as he pleased. I begged him, “Sir, please, may I come?” over and over again, until his voice was directly in my head, “Yes, you may,” and my body let go as he pumped deeper and harder, giving way to my orgasm; I knew I belonged to him now.