by Unknown
He fucked for a half a minute without answering.
“So what do you need to do for me, you little slut?” he said cruelly.
She sobbed, and seemed to droop with resignation. She didn't answer, so he pounded her harder until she screamed: “I want to suck your cock!”
“You need to beg me. I told you you would beg me.”
“Please,” she said, and he began to fuck her even more violently. “No more, please, please, I can't...”
“Tell me what I want to hear.”
“I want to suck your cock.”
“Beg me.”
“I want...I want to...oh god...I want to suck your cock, please, please let me suck your cock.”
“Hmm...” he thrust deep inside of her and held her by the throat. “That's not quite good enough.” He ground deep into her, and because his cock was so big he must have been all the way into her abdomen.
The girl whimpered, and he gave her another round of deep anal thrusts. “Please, I want...I want to suck your cock.”
“Say, 'I want to suck your big fat cock, that's been in my ass,' you dirty whore.”
“Oh god,” she whimpered. “I want to suck your big fat cock, that's been in my ass,”
“All covered with my own dirty whore ass,” he said.
She dropped her head, and he slid out of her ass slowly. His cock was long and thick, and it took a few seconds for it to slide from inside of her. When he finally pulled out her ass, the camera focused on the throbbing, gaping red eyelet left by his pounding.
“Say it, or I'm going to fuck you again,”
“Please, she whispered. “Let me suck your cock all covered with my dirty whore ass.”
He guided the tip of his cock back to her asshole. “I didn't hear that.”
“Please. Please let me suck it. Don't fuck my ass again. Please let me taste my own ass.”
He smiled. “That's it.”
He rounded her kneeling body, and stood in front of her again. “I told you you'd be begging me to suck my cock,” he said, stroking her hair. “Now, look at me sweetheart, that's right,” he pushed the blindfold from her eyes, and she looked up at his cruel face. He slapped his cock on her lips. “Show me how much you want to suck my cock. Show me how much you love it. Or I'm going back in your ass. And I'm going to fuck you 'till you can't walk.”
The kidnapped schoolgirl opened her mouth, and obediently keeping her eyes on his, she swallowed his cock with unbridled enthusiasm.
“Now swallow it all,” he said, as his abdomen stiffened and he groaned. The girl gagged but kept most of his cum in her mouth. A little exploded from the sides of her lips, but she licked it up when he withdrew from her mouth. He held her hair and kept his cock near her lips. “Now lick it all clean. That's it. You like the taste of your own ass?”
She nodded.
“Say it. Tell me how much you like the taste of your ass and my cum.”
“I love the taste of my ass and your cum,” she said.
He slapped his cleaned-off cock against her lips. “Good girl.”
Then he turned to the camera and smiled. “And that's,” he said. “How you get a girl to suck your cock like a dirty whore.” Then a smile. He turned back to the girl. He stroked her hair. “You're having a pretty bad day, aren't you? And we still have plans for you.”
The plans, as Adria knew, included another half hour of merciless abuse: double penetration, a scene in which she sucked both cocks at the same time, her legs spread wide open while one of the guys fucked her in the ass and the other throatfucked her, and slurping their cum from the leather sofa where they took to perform their next misdeeds.
But Adria rarely got that far. She had slid her fingers beneath her panties halfway through the first scene and she rocketed to a shattering orgasm just as the kidnapper turned to face the camera.
She turned the video off. She was out of breath, and she looked around the room. Her panties were soaked clear through to the chair, and she could feel the smear of wetness on her inner thighs.
But after she came, the shame of her fantasy began to take over.
It was, after all, the most humiliating, anti-feminist, dirty, rape-y porn she could find.
She had no idea what to make of her compulsion to watch it.
And no idea, no idea at all, what to do with the creeping desire inside of her to do more than just watch.
10 LILY'S ADVICE
Lily leaned back against the sweating walls of the sauna with a contented sigh. Droplets of water had already formed on her smooth chest and were blooming to full, sliding down her caramel skin, and disappearing in the small shadow between her round breasts, beneath the terry-cloth towel she had (barely) wrapped around her small frame. “It's so fucking hot,” she complained.
Adria smiled and tried to relax. What was really on her mind, though, were all the things she wanted to talk to Lily about. She had never responded to her Facebook message, though the message appeared as “seen” in her inbox.
Lily hadn't mentioned the message, and Adria was now torn between desperately wanting to talk to her and desperately hoping she would never bring it up. It had been all she could think about while they were working out.
“So what is this thing you were needing to talk to me about?”
Adria froze. It felt, sometimes, like Lily was reading her mind.
She looked at her hands, trying to think of what to say. Too much time passed for her to act like she didn't know what Lily was talking about. “Oh,” she said. “That. Yeah.”
She realized that in the time between sending the message and now, she had chickened out of talking to Lily about the whole truth. Her own fantasy was the one that was occupying most of her time, nagging at her the most, but she knew she wasn't going to really talk about it. Talking about John would be easier. Less revealing.
Lily opened her eyes and squinted at Adria when she didn't say anything for a while. Then she sat upright. “Oooooooh,” she warbled. “This is something good. Something juicy...”
She slapped Adria suddenly on the arm. “Did you call my friend? The one I told you to?!”
Adria shook her head and looked around anxiously, double-and triple-checking that no one was in the sauna. “Shhh,” she said, though she didn't know why. “I...no...it isn't that.”
“Sooooo,” Lily said, crossing her legs and leaning her elbows on her knees. Her towel crept up to just below her utterly bare snatch, and Adria tried not to look, though she found Lily's Brazilian waxing practices fascinating. “What is it?” Lily asked. She smiled. “It obviously has to do about sex, eh?” She was nodding and smiling in that very Latina way of hers, which only turned on if the conversation was about sex or dancing. “Spit it out.”
Adria looked down at her legs again. She closed her eyes. Suddenly it all seemed so preposterous. But if she wasn’t going to tell Lily about it, who was she going to tell?
“Okay,” she said. “But you have to swear you won't tell anyone.”
“I never say anything about nobody. I'm too busy talking about myself, nena. So tell me.” She slid around and leaned against the wall again. Her eyes were gleaming.
Adria sighed. “So I have this...thing. You know -”
“We talked about this. You like sex handled by men, or whatever they say it is.”
There was more to it than that, but Adria knew she wasn't going to tell Lily any details. It wasn't really what she wanted to talk about anyway.
“Yeah, so...I guess I've sort of let John know about...you know. That I like that. Not in detail,” she added sharply. “just...like a hint.”
Lily tisked and rolled her head from side to side against the wall.
Adria sighed again.
“And so?” Lily prompted her after a long pause. “It didn't work...” she waved her hand in the air, to indicate that Adria should get on with the story.
“Uh...well...yeah, no, I mean...that's one thing. But...so...the thing is, John has this thing he is kind
of into.”
Lily sat bolt upright again and her eyes flew open. She spun back into her cross-legged position, and now her towel was really akimbo and she was almost naked. She folded her hands under her chin. “I am all ears,” she said. “I cannot wait for this. Your thing is so boring, like every woman doesn't want a man to fuck her hard. But men always have something dirty. Tell me.”
Adria laughed, out of nervousness more than anything. She covered her face. “You have to swear you won't tell.”
“Oh my god,” Lily said. “Oh, this is going to be so good. No, I won't tell, nena,” she slapped her twice on the leg. “Confess,” she ordered, in a deep voice.
Adria's hands remained on her face. “So we started this thing, I don't even know how it started, where I flirt with other guys -”
“Oh yeah,” Lily said, and she spun back to her disinterested, closed-eyed lean against the wet wall. She seemed to have already heard this one before, and to be disappointed that there wasn't something juicier to the story.
Adria opened and closed her mouth, unsure where to go next. “So...I sort of flirted with this waiter, like...really flirted. In front of him.”
Lily was nodding her head. “And his cock got so hard for this, right?”
“Yeah...” Adria said vaguely. “So...then we have sex...in the bathroom -”
Lily's eyes flipped open again. “That's very risque for John.” She was animated again. “And then?”
“And so then...like, he really wanted me to talk about...”
“Fucking the waiter. I had a boyfriend like this one time,” Lily waved her hands.
Adria frowned. She was surprised to hear that John's “thing” wasn't even surprising to Lily. Maybe even a little disappointed. After all, her own preferences, and now John's, seemed so dirty to her...and yet Lily was acting like this happened to everyone, every day.
She continued anyway. “And then later he says...” Adria covered her face again. “He said, I don't know...'I can tell you want rougher sex,' and, 'that was really hot when you flirted with the waiter,' and then...”
Lily slapped her again with the back of his hand. “Oh this is good! This is good news, amiga, you can use this. He wants you to do it for real, no? And so everybody wins. You should be happy. What is the problem?”
“He..yeah...he said something like, maybe we could have an arrangement -”
“That's what you need. That's perfect. Then you give my friend a call...oh, chava, what's the problem?” She reached out and grabbed Adria's face. “You look so sad. This is great. You get your fantasy, he watches you...” Lily spread her hands out, gave a serpentine shake of her upper torso, and thickened up her accent. “You're both happy. Problem...solution.” She set her hands down. “No?”
Adria shook her head. “Okay,” she said. “It sounds good. But...I don't know. It just doesn't seem like it will really work out like that. You know? I mean, I don't get it at all. His thing. What does he get out of it? That's the part that bothers me. And then it's like, okay, so if he feels like that, fine...but shouldn't he be...I dunno. Jealous or something? Instead of turned on. I mean, seriously, Lily. He was like...”
Lily made a fist to describe John's cock where Adria's words failed. “I know. I told you, my ex, he was like this. His cock got so hard just thinking about it.”
Adria raised an eyebrow. “So did you ever...”
Lily shrugged. “Of course.”
Adria opened her mouth in surprise. “And it was like...okay?”
Lily threw her head back and laughed. “Oh my god,” she said. Then she seized Adria's arm with a talon grip. “You are like, somebody from the fifties', I swear to god.”
“It wasn't weird, though?” Adria said impatiently.
“No. No, it was hot.”
“No I mean...like, after.”
Lily tisked again and returned to her closed-eye resting position. “You are serious. I can't believe you are serious. Mira, men, they are not this complicated, okay? If he says, 'I want to watch you fuck some other guy,' then you do it, and he will have a hard cock, and that's all you need to know. The only thing stopping you is if you don't want to do it, but you do, so you have a perfect situation on your hands.” She shook her head again.
“It would be different, muñeca, if wanted you to fuck a...yeti or something. But a man?” She laughed again.
Adria stared at her.
“I don' maybe know the word in English,” Lily said, as if the issue that needed clarification was that one.
“You know what?” Lily said, gathering sudden energy. “Come with me. We'll do some dancing, you take John, we watch you getting sweaty with a hot man...there is this man, Fernando, panameño. He is like a rock in his head, but he is...” Lily seemed unable to find a word for Fernando and his heat, so she shook her hand and sucked in her lower lip. “And I will tell you what John is doing. You see? If he really likes it. And then...you can call my friend, order what you like, and have a good time.”
Adria was still staring at her.
“What's the problem?” Lily asked.
She seemed genuinely confused.
Adria shrugged.
She wasn't sure what the problem was, either.
11 FERNANDO
Lily made plans to go to La Flaca, and all the way home Adria thought about how she would lure John to the small, very Latino club. He was not a dancer, he did not like noise, and he was utterly mystified by Latino culture in any form. He even viewed sangria with mild suspicion.
Halfway through the drive, she realized that she was going to lure John to the club with promises to flirt with another man. Which left her with a bit of a...what would it be? Paradox? Because why would she need to go to the club, and have Lily “assess” John's behavior, if she already knew that she could get him there just telling him that's what she was going to do?
It all boiled down to this: she knew John was serious.
So what did she want?
She hadn't settled on an answer to the question by the time she got home, but she knew one thing: there was an allure to the plan, something she liked about it. Something that stirred inside of her, got her excited – and not “Christmas morning” excited.
Filthy porn excited.
John was home and tucked away in his office. Probably on Reddit. He was addicted to a set of oddball subreddits that dedicated themselves to things like good cable setups for IT and really obscure Linux operating systems. He probably had his headphones on watching the world's most boring documentary. Usually he wandered in to try and have sex, so she expected him any minute.
Adria glided to the bedroom and opened the closet. She dug through her clothes – largely conservative – and found, tucked away in a section of evening dresses for the occasional cocktail party, the dress she was looking for. She had only worn it once, and only to a party that John hadn't attended. He had never seen it, and she had felt a little too exposed in it. But now, she felt like putting it on.
It was a black dress, with a skirt that flared and came to just above her knees, perfect for salsa dancing. That wasn't the risque part. The tight-fitted bodice had a plunging neckline that exposed the swells of her breasts and her chest. No back. It was very sexy, but it wasn't her usual style.
When she put it on, though, and turned for the mirror, she was surprised to find that the dress didn't feel particularly risque. Not like it had that night a year ago when she had worn it and covered up with a shawl most of the night in spite of the sweltering heat.
She looked at her chest. She was a fit, muscular girl at the core, and her breasts were medium-sized but well-supported by her taut frame, and they looked great, barely restrained by the scanty fabric of the dress. Her arms were toned, and her skin was flawless and creamy.
She let her hair down and smoothed it out with a straight iron.
She normally didn't put on makeup – she didn't need it, and she felt like too much of any one thing quickly transformed her cream-and-freckles, Midwes
tern looks to white-trash-whore. But the dress was expensive, and it showed, and her hair looked expensive and sophisticated. She dabbed a light lipstick on and assessed her appearance.
Good. But she wanted something a little more...
She dug into her makeup drawer, the single disorganized place in the house. At the back of the piles of makeup containers, used once and never again, she found what she was looking for.
After applying the eye shadow, she turned again in front of the mirror. She was amazed John hadn't wandered in by now.
Her blue eyes gleamed from the pockets of smokey gray she had applied. Her eyes looked larger than ever, and striking. She was satisfied with the look. She squinted at herself, being critical to make sure she didn't look trashy. And then she walked down the hall to shake John from the absorbing documentary like never before.
John slid his headphones from his ears, and stared at her.
She smiled, a little nervously. It was not exactly the reaction she had hoped for. He looked more like a deer in the headlights.
John stared at his wife. He was completely unsure what was going on. His mind raced through his near-perfect mental agenda, and found nothing – no appointments, no cocktail parties, no awards. His eyes were glued to Adria's chest, and the spectacular plunge of the neckline of the dress she was wearing.
Then up to her eyes. Her blue eyes pierced through a black haze. She looked like model in a retro ad. Her hair was down, her lips were pink, her skin was everywhere. She was right on the verge of looking a little...trashy. He felt his cock getting hard. He tried to move his mouth, but it was useless.
Luckily, Adria seemed to have a plan. She slinked into the office and sat on the edge of his desk. “I have a plan,” she said.
“Uh...” he managed to say. “Tonight? Did I forget something?”
She shook her head. Her eyes were gleaming. Jesus, she looked hot.
“Now, I know you hate dancing. And I know you hate clubs. And I know you hate sangria. But tonight we're going dancing with Lily.”
He couldn't take his eyes off her lovely breasts. “Uh...”