Sharon thought about the kiss lingering on her lips. She could still taste her boyfriend’s lips. She also thought of the darkened house that awaited her. She hadn’t lived there long and knew it would never feel like home. In fact, her dad might decide, without any prior notice, to move out in the dead of night. They’d done so before and Sharon expected, at some time, they’d do so again. Whenever he fell behind in rent. Or found a woman to move in with. Just thinking about it filled her with sadness. She hugged David close, her best friend, and rested her head on his shoulder.
Her dad had been home with the lights out. She knew because his car sat parked outside. With no other cars around, it seemed likely he was home alone. But it didn’t matter. She preferred to stay out late with David. And David, being much older, had no curfew.
For that matter, Sharon also didn’t have a curfew. Her dad didn’t care what she did, not really. He wanted her to find a man, someone decent enough to take her off his hands. One less mouth to feed. One less bedroom to rent. Sharon wasn’t stupid. She knew.
She had confided this information in her boyfriend.
~ ~ ~
The moon shone brightly in the sky. He watched it through the windshield of his truck, the truck he’d rebuilt over the years. Sharon had always preferred David’s nice, new truck over the relic he drove. She’d mentioned it once, same as she mentioned everything. And sometimes he liked to drive out here to park, just as he knew David and Sharon parked when they weren’t busy cruising around town or along country roads.
Of course he’d brought Sharon here to park too. It had been their spot first. She’d mentioned it to David at some point. And then, to conserve gasoline or give themselves time to focus on each other, they’d also started coming here.
The spot was a lonely bluff at the end of a gravel road which snaked up from the highway. They’d sit here and talk, listen to music, do god knew what while he lay asleep at home, well past curfew, assuming Sharon did the same.
Except you weren’t home sleeping, were you? he thought. You were out with David.
Of course he’d known all about David. Sharon hadn’t hidden the fact they were friends. They’d met through relatives and David often frequented her house for that reason. But David wanted more. That much was obvious to everyone, including Sharon’s dad. Perhaps even Sharon, which, in the man’s eyes, made her deceit so much worse.
He’d often called her on the telephone after dropping her off during the week when they went out and did something. But on the weekend, with such a late curfew and an early shift the next morning at his part-time job, he’d never thought to call.
Or had he? That was so long ago, perhaps he had.
Don’t fool yourself, the man told himself. Had you tried to call, you’d have realized sooner what Sharon was doing.
Or…
Perhaps I did call. Might Sharon have made a plausible excuse, something like “The ringer was off” or “I was asleep and didn’t hear the phone ring?”
He didn’t think so. He typically caught such inconsistencies.
Which made the inconsistency of “I love you” but “I’m going to lead you to believe I’m home asleep while I go out with a man who’s crazy for me and you don’t want me to see” hard to swallow.
Anyone but David, he seemed to recall telling Sharon at some point.
He switched off the radio and allowed his mind’s stereo to play Aerosmith for him. Blood began to boil as he thought about all the years without Sharon, how she’d been out, cruising up and down the road without him.
Cruising with David.
His jaw clenched.
But I have her now, David. You slimy motherfucker. You piece of shit little worm who can’t get a woman of your own without using dirty snake tricks.
The moon blurred as eyes grew glassy.
You only got her because I had to take her home, and she didn’t want to be home.
The world seemed unfair, destined to conspire against him at every turn.
But she’s mine now. All mine.
Chapter 7
Julia woke to the man bursting into the room and switching on blinding light. She threw up hands to protect her eyes as he said in an angry tone, “I want to know, once and for all, do you love me, or don’t you?”
Is this a trick question, Julia wondered. Of course she didn’t love him. But was he testing her? If she said yes and he didn’t buy it, would he beat her again? And if she said no, a beating seemed inevitable.
“Answer me. Truthfully.”
“Yes. Of course I love you.” Julia raised on elbows and squinted.
He silently pondered the answer before his tense body relaxed.
“I’m so glad you said that,” he said. “And I’m so sorry to wake you while you sleep.”
“It’s okay,” Julia, furious and frightened, said. Now please leave.
He didn’t leave. He crossed the room and sat down beside her on the cot.
“You mean so much to me. You know, I’ve been looking for you.”
Yes, you mentioned that before, you crazy bastard. What the hell do you mean?
“It’s so confusing,” he said, stroking her hair. “I thought you were gone. But you weren’t. You left, of course. But I mean, I thought you’d left for good. And then I saw you, right there in the car cruising down the highway. So naturally I had to stop you. I couldn’t lose you again.”
So you ran my car off the goddamn road, Julia thought, but said, “I’m really tired. And sore.”
The thrashing he’d given her ass still ached. She mentioned the fact hoping he’d take the cue and leave her in peace. But he didn’t.
“Roll over,” he said. “Show me.”
“No, really. It’s okay.” He’d applied antibacterial ointment later and Julia had changed out of her evening gown and into a summer dress she’d found in the dresser. It fit a bit snug in the bust but at least it fit.
“I insist,” he said.
Fine.
She rolled over and he lifted the skirt and lowered panties.
“It’s healing well. I can add more ointment in the morning.”
“Yes, in the morning.” Julia really wanted him to leave.
Smiling, he gazed into her eyes. His bright blue eyes pierced to her soul. She longed to look away but feared doing so. She also feared he’d realize her lie of loving him. But he didn’t. He leaned forward to kiss her.
Julia had decided, after the severe whipping, that next time he forced himself upon her, she’d accept him. That seemed the best course of action. And so, with his lips pressed to hers, she allowed the kiss.
The kiss disgusted her, as much as making out with a mental patient who had raped and killed people might turn off any woman. And yet there she lay, unwanted hands roaming her body. However, the kiss disgusted her most.
“My breasts need your attention,” she said, voice husky and low. As he kneaded them by hand, she added, “I want your lips on them.”
Knowing where this was leading, Julia closed her eyes and tried to imagine being with someone else. She didn’t want to think of Chad, either, and so she instead thought of another man to imagine. She chose Marcus, the man she’d dated briefly before Chad. Marcus had been a real man and the only younger man Julia had dated. Marcus had been big and strong, nothing like Chad. A junior high physical education coach who knew his way around the bedroom. But the relationship had been short-lived, with complaints of jealousy on Julia’s part. Marcus had had a lot of female friends, and everywhere they went, grade school girls fawned over him.
Julia had tried her hardest to keep and satisfy Marcus but he labeled her as clingy and decided he wanted nothing more to do with her.
But it was he she chose to imagine touching her.
When the man’s hand slipped under her skirt, Julia tested the bulge in his pants and found an erection.
She freed his penis, spat on it, began to stroke it.
“I’ve missed you,” he said. “Lord, how I’ve mis
sed you. I want us to make love.”
Julia shushed him; his voice killed the illusion of Marcus, as would the sight of him.
“Make love to me from behind,” she said. “Do it hard and fast, till you come.”
He lifted off her dress and peeled panties from hips to the sound of a rattling chain. Then Marcus mounted her from behind. His penis entered slow and carefully, as her body hadn’t lubricated itself in preparation. So, Julia took it upon herself to rub her clit. She tweaked it wonderfully as she daydreamed of Marcus behind her.
Marcus chose not to fuck her fast and furiously. Instead, he thrust slow and methodically. Giving her body a deep and easy massage.
But Julia didn’t fool herself. She knew her abductor remained behind her and, while able to lubricate herself, held no illusion of her body responding any more.
“Come, baby,” Julia urged. “I want you to come.”
“No. I want our lovemaking to last.”
Fuck me already. Get off, you freak!
His thrusts gained tempo. Julia imagined how good Marcus used to fuck her and how, since Chad had abandoned her in more ways than one, unless he made an honest effort to save her ass and ultimately rescued her, she saw a possible future where, once freed of this mess, she’d seek out Marcus and try to convince him to give her a second chance.
“I want to see you, kiss you as we make love,” the man said. “Flip over.”
Julia saw no way around the request. There was pain across her back from the whipping as he entered her body. His lips pressed hers as he started to thrust. She lay there, arms and legs wide, accepting his manhood in a humiliating mockery of lovemaking.
And then he stopped thrusting.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
You’re raping me, Julia thought. But she knew she couldn’t lie there any longer. He was getting wise to her game and if she didn’t make it believable, it might cause problems.
“Nothing’s wrong, baby,” she said, now hugging him with her thighs, wrapping arms around him, fighting back tears.
“That’s more like it,” he said, getting into rhythm. Soon he was thrusting harder, quicker, deeper. He’d lifted one of Julia’s legs, the one without the manacle, and held her knee near her head, really giving it to her.
“Damn it, Sharon,” he said. “Show some emotion.”
With each thrust Julia’s back ignited with fire, from the lashes she’d received the day before.
Emotion? I’ll give you emotion.
Fingernails bit into his back. He grunted and moaned but didn’t let up. If anything, now he fucked her harder.
He screamed as Julia clawed his back.
“Now that’s some goddamn emotion,” he said, obviously pleased. Perhaps an expression of satisfaction had crossed her face, she assumed, and kept on clawing.
Soon her nails were slicing up his back. One nail broke and Julia could feel a slickness she attributed to more than perspiration. Blood. She’d made him bleed. And she liked that.
“God, you always did like it rough,” he said. He punctuated his point with a slap to the face which shocked Julia. So she clawed harder. He slapped her again, harder himself. “Bite me, goddamn it. Bite my fucking shoulder.”
Julia sank teeth into his flesh and bit down. She clawed firm, flexing buttocks as he tugged her hair. His steeled cock punished her pussy and she screamed for him to come.
“Come, you son of a bitch. Come!”
“Not till you come, bitch. Come for me!”
Julia didn’t know if she could. She wasn’t even close.
“Come, bitch. Come, goddamn it.”
Fuck me, Marcus. Beat up that pussy, Julia thought. She chewed the shoulder and focused on the flexing ass. Marcus’s flexing ass.
Damn, when she thought of that, it made her pussy wet. She really did miss Marcus. She missed his huge cock and what magic it could work on her. If she truly focused, she might be able to climax. Instead, she faked an orgasm. She’d done so before, a time or two, and she chose not to be overly dramatic about it, but it seemed to be what the man needed to reach his sexual peak.
His cock throbbed and spurted within her before, after one final passionate kiss, he pulled out. He disgustingly offered his spent member for her to lick clean and then, surprisingly, dived down between her legs.
“What…?” Julia began, then realized he planned to eat her pussy, semen and all.
Oh, wow, Marcus, Julia thought with eyes clenched shut, lick that nasty slit.
Marcus knew how to work her. He spread her open wide and teased her clit with tongue tip. Julia moaned when Marcus inserted a finger into her anus. She pushed to eject semen and all of it was hungrily lapped up as fingers prodded and teased.
“Oh… Ohh…”
A strong clitoral orgasm ripped through her which caused her to expel fluid.
“That’s a good girl,” the man said, his voice spoiling the sensation. “I love when you squirt in my face.”
He gave her one last kiss before asking, “Need anything? If not, I’ll head to bed.”
Only thing Julia needed was someone to explain what the hell she’d just done, because she felt ashamed and embarrassed at what she’d allowed to take place.
Chapter 8
Days passed and the man enjoyed having someone to come home to. Sharon, the love of his life. He wished he could unchain her and have her live upstairs with him in domestic bliss. It had been a long day, with mandatory overtime to complete the metalwork task that was crucial to keep the project on schedule. So said the project manager, a cocky son of a bitch he didn’t much care for. At least he didn’t have to deal with the cocksucker on a daily basis and hadn’t needed to deal with him today. The foreman dealt with him and the man could use the extra money that overtime offered, but still, it had been a long, hard day. He stunk of oily welding smoke and his muscles ached. It would be nice to come home and have dinner waiting on the table, whatever Sharon chose to cook. He’d shower, sit down to a nice meal, make love to his woman, perhaps relax afterward with a bottle of beer while she told him about her day.
She wouldn’t need to work because he did all right, especially with the occasional overtime. But if she chose to get a part-time job, that was fine too.
Except he couldn’t trust her. So instead of coming home to a prepared meal, he’d need to prepare it himself. Something for him and also for her.
It was dark now and a pair of headlights in the rearview mirror caught the eye. It reminded him of a time when he’d followed David in his truck. It had been dark then too, about the same time of day, 6ish or 7ish in the evening. Wait. No, it had been later. The man had had an argument with Sharon and he told her he wouldn’t be taking her out on Saturday night. He instead planned to catch a movie with friends.
He’d also caught sight of Sharon cruising around town with David in his truck, for everyone to see.
It infuriated him to see her with David. They cruised the Sonic drive thru parking lot, stopped to say hey to a few of David’s friends. Then they cruised the strip to the movie theater parking lot at the opposite end of the drag. That’s where he had spotted them as he left the theater.
His friends had wanted him to go with them to someone’s house to hang out for the rest of the night. But he couldn’t do that. He rode back with them, as they’d taken someone else’s car. But once there, he fired up his Power Wagon and went in search of David’s wily Ford.
He was hard to miss. It only took half a trip down the main drag to spot it heading the opposite direction. And so, after turning around in a commercial parking lot, the man soon trailed them.
Sharon sat close to David, in the middle of the bench seat, presumably his arm around her. Even if it wasn’t, only lovers rode so close; a true friend would ride on the passenger side of the bench seat.
And so the man followed. He followed from a distance at first, but when the Ford slowed to cruise a parking lot and stop for David to gab with friends (and ultimately let everyone see
that Sharon was riding with David instead of him) the distance closed.
So now, those who looked would notice Sharon riding closely to David and the man riding alone.
Goddamn, did the blood boil.
It boiled so much the man couldn’t help but to antagonize the “couple” just as David antagonized him. And he began to ride their bumper. They knew he was back there because the interior light flared on and David proffered a middle finger prominently for him to see. Several times David jabbed the brakes and each time the man had also been prepared to slow or stop.
This went on for a couple passes down the strip until David, apparently thinking himself cute, left the strip and instead headed out to the highway, no doubt thinking his new Ford compact pickup could outrun the old Dodge. But the man, along with his father and grandfather, had swapped in a Mopar V8 from a T-boned ‘Cuda the summer before and, while he rarely exercised his truck’s muscle, even with the massive weight difference David couldn’t lose the old Dodge on the highway.
And so, back in town, the truck veered into a bank parking lot and Sharon, after sliding across the bench seat, dropped out on the passenger side. She said something to David before shutting the door. The truck then pulled to the end of the lot and turned around, thus allowing more distance between them. David’s angry headlamps flaring brighter as Sharon crossed the expanse, once glancing back at David.
She approached the driver’s door and he cranked down the window for her.
“What are you doing?” Sharon said, obviously angry.
“What are you doing?” the man, then a boy, remarked.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Yeah, well, neither am I.”
“You’re following me around and I don’t like it.”
“I have a right to public roads, same as anyone else. Meanwhile you are riding around with David for everyone to see. That’s not cool.”
“What do you care? You’d rather be with your friends than me.”
“That’s not true. I’m with you all the time. Every day that I can. I rarely do anything with friends anymore.”
Insanity Road Page 4