We were naked on the bed when he told me wanted to take my ass – something that for the first time in hours made me balk.
“Oh, I don’t think I can go another round,” I sweetly answered, even as my heart skipped anxious beats at the thought of what he proposed. “I’m pretty wasted and my pussy is awfully sore,” I added, hoping he’d forget about more sex. For good measure I pulled from his arms and off the bed.
“So if your pussy is so sore, then your ass will certainly suffice.” He looked up at me sincerely, the glow in his eyes seemed to have darkened with the changing phases of the sun, “And since using your ass is what I’m after in the first place—”
“Oh, how about my mouth instead?” I tried again. “I’m pretty good at giving head.” Since I’d practiced my fellatio several times on his hefty seven inches, he already knew that for a fact.
“I’d rather have your ass,” he countered, dismissively, then he pulled himself to sitting and reached for my hand.
It wasn’t hard to figure that this was a man who usually got his way. As he gripped my fingers, I knew I would surrender even when my fears were rising fast. His eyes locked on mine, and without my having any further say, he pulled me into his arms so I was sitting in his lap. Reaching around to my bottom he began to gently press his fingers in my backdoor.
“Ooo, that’s tight,” I grimaced.
“Right,” he readily agreed with an evil sneer – again enough to make my dark passions ignite. “Exactly what makes it so much fun!” He covered my mouth with demanding kisses. Then for a while he changed the position of his hand and fingered my pussy while making out with me in the same fierce way he had the past two days. I was beginning to think he’d changed his mind about the anal sex, but with my body all revved up again, he pulled his fingers from my pussy, drawing out the copious juices, and swathed my tenacious sphincter, prodding more forcefully this time, until it finally started to give.
I gasped anxiously, “Really, hon, I don’t think I can.”
“Shuuusssh,” he covered my lips with a finger. “I know you can.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you can’t say you didn’t try,” he glibly admonished. Holding onto my chin in a patronizing way, he forced all my attention on him.
A moment later, I was flipped over and propped up ass high, with my knees sinking into the mattress. Settling in behind me, Jon’s fingers continued their deep probing until, in his estimation, I was relaxed enough to enter. It hadn’t taken him but seconds and his cock was firm again with the head of it prodding my backdoor with as much ferocity as he’d earlier taken my pussy.
In light of my constant reluctance, he moved slowly, all the while teasing my clit below and whispering words of encouragement. Though his first more forceful thrusts proved painful, after a time, my virgin back entrance began to give enough to take him comfortably. I gasped hard when he finally lunged forward with a decisiveness that suggested the manner in which he planned to take pleasure inside this forbidden territory.
I wanted to be repulsed, but I couldn’t muster even a vague protest against his plan. A wholly submissive feeling had enveloped me completely, and strong sensations were beginning to stir deep within. As he began to move in earnest, I could hear myself crying out, not so much from pain but from the newfound pleasure that rose up so unexpectedly. Before I realized what was happening, he’d begun to ram me hard, using my ass even more ruthlessly than he earlier used my vagina. There was far more to the taking of my ass than just his cock enjoying another pleasurable moment of climax. His brutal use of my body established his dominance over me, while at the same time diminishing me into little more than his lowly property.
The effect was alarming, although I can’t describe the emotions that surfaced in the awkward hour. I knew only that something profound was taking place inside me, something profound enough for me to enjoy on a very primitive level – even if it defied every idea I had of myself as a woman.
Jon came like he came all the other times we made love, with a hearty groan and a solid thrusting until the last drops of his cum were finally deposited inside my ass. I moaned beneath him, my body with a surprising suddenness surrendering to a wave of dark pleasure that was as emotionally satisfying as it was physically releasing.
He pulled away from me, collapsing to the bed, sighing.
“You can go now,” he said. With the tone of his voice so surprisingly cold, it sounded oddly as if he were dismissing me.
My God! Was this all he was after? An anal rape? The trancelike stupor in which I’d spent the last day and a half suddenly vanished.
I lay on the bed while he lay next to me recovering, refusing to touch him, to even acknowledge he was there, as if he were a total stranger. I began to quake, my mouth went dry, my heart pounded in my chest. I knew I had to escape, but I could barely move. With that thought suddenly overtaking all others, the heavy feeling of inertia fled and I jumped to my feet in search of my clothes, which I found strewn from the door of his bedroom all the way to the kitchen. I picked them up, recalling how they’d been shed with a boozy, delirious laughter as we made our way to his bedroom.
“What are you doing?” his voice suddenly ripped me from my frantic place.
I looked back seeing him leaning sexily against the bedroom doorjamb.
“What do you think? I’m leaving.” Even as the tears welled up in my eyes, I did my best not to let my emotions show.
“So soon?” he asked.
“They were your words – You can go now.”
“I hardly meant this fast.” He looked amused, as if he actually knew what he’d done.
“Really?” After the last five minutes I was having a difficult time believing him.
Looking back now, I wonder if I should have just cut my losses right then, walked out and never came back. But the way he strode toward me with such authority, pulled his fingers through my hair and pressed his thumb against my cheek, had me quickly back inside his control. The anxiety that had festered in those brief minutes took a backseat to the affection that seemed to be so genuine.
He kissed me hard and deep, his lips lingering on mine for a long while before he pulled away. “I meant that you could go, if you have to. You said you had to study.”
“Yes, well, I do, I really do,” I rushed in, sheepishly biting my lip.
“Then I’ll call you later. Hum?”
“You will?”
“Of course. It’s a promise.”
Jon Ryder lived up to his promise and we were soon an item. Not just casually dating. In his big grown up world there was nothing casual. “Jon had finally found his girl,” his hoity mother would say with a giggle of delight. Of course she was delighted with me. Even with my less than stellar family it was a relief that her sometimes ‘scandalous’ son (her word), had found a lovely girl to settle down with. And one who was so ambitious. On her way to Harvard Law. That was impressive!
Actually I had no intention of applying to Harvard’s Law School until I met the Ryder family, and they made the decision for me, along with a lot of other decisions about my future life. Who was I to counter their wishes when I was living every little girl’s fairytale, complete with tiara? Oh, yes! I was to wear the prettiest diamond tiara on my wedding day, the same one his mother had worn when she walked down the aisle.
Although our courtship lasted for nearly two years, it seemed to fly by rapidly, a whirlwind of parties, family brunches and elegant summer barbecues. When I was not presenting myself as the picture of decorum at these mandated events, I studied, or was fucking Jon in his apartment.
We often joked about his mother, with Jon promising me that once we were married there would be less interference. I believed him. But there was often something crassly cold about his behavior toward his persnickety and overbearing mother. I suppose that was disturbing, but I didn’t think about it that much.
Beverly Ryder was a real queen. She could be ruthlessly charming in a way that mad
e everyone in her presence take notice. But it wasn’t just her physical presence that commanded attention. In that way, she was a very handsome woman who was always perfectly dressed from her stylish hair to her perfect nails. But her perfection went far beyond those simple things. Every syllable from her mouth was perfectly modulated, while her smiles, her laughter, the witty jokes and repartee with which she entertained a horde of doting hangers-on, were eloquently executed to put one into what could be called a surreal and altered state of complete adoration. She could be brilliantly funny or ruthlessly crass without marring her flawless image. She did have a dark side, however. And that was demonic – although she need only show it rarely, and only in moments of crisis. No one crossed her. Even those who knew her only slightly could be sure that Beverly Ryder could figuratively sink a knife into one’s gut with the viciousness of an assassin – and come away smiling. Not a drop of blood would stain her hand.
Jon, on the other hand, was probably the only person who, seeing through her game, was able to set her on edge without consequences. “I keep ‘mother’ in hand,” he said while smirking playfully over that announcement. I thought that besting his mother was a good game, though it was not one I’d attempt to play myself. His mother intimidated me and I intended to behave myself when I was in her company. I enjoyed the singeing battles between mother and son from the sidelines while remaining sweetly neutral.
She loved me for that. Her son would frustrate and torment her; she’d be so distressed. She’d turn to me with the exasperated look of motherhood and say, “At least he chose a bride without a mean bone in her body.” To that I’d bashfully smile.
I refrained from making fun of her, or even joining Jon in his barbs. I had sense enough to know that his own feelings toward his mother might turn on a dime and I could be left standing with dirt all over my face.
While Jon was a passionate lover, he was not a warm and cuddly sort of man. And yet, the mystique of him excited me so much that I let myself take the sometimes cutting criticism – about my hair or my clothes or my future plans to be a lawyer. Actually, I don’t think he minded that I was going into law; that could be useful. He did have a problem with my talk of being a public defender. “No money in it,” he liked to remind me
“But if I marry you, I’m not really going to need money, will I? So what does it matter if I decide to defend the underprivileged?”
“I just think you’re wasting your time and that fucking Cadillac scholarship,” he petulantly flipped off. Was he jealous, maybe?
“Well, I can change my mind,” I returned, to pacify the rancorous spirit that raged beneath a restrained persona.
When we weren’t engaged in family business or such testy subjects as my future in-laws, Jon and I were fucking. It seemed to be our favorite pastime around which all other activities revolved. Entertaining friends, a night at the movies or a quick weekend trip always needed a sexual component to make them satisfying for Jon. But it wasn’t just bedroom sex that got him off. He liked me giving him blowjobs in his Mercedes, or in shadowy parking garages, bending me over the hood of his car and lifting my skirt for a quick screw. When we visited his friends, we would wind up slipping into the bedroom or bathroom for sex. We often screwed in the dark corners of his parents’ gardens, and once in his parents’ bed while they were downstairs having cocktails with the neighbors.
In the back of movie theatres, Jon would make me pull up my skirt and masturbate – after I’d given him a blowjob. He screwed me in alleys and in parks. Then once we were back in his apartment we had sex to the memory of those raunchy semi-public scenes. Jon took great pleasure in thumbing his nose at the conventions he’d grown up with, most of which he despised, but what he had conceded to in order to stay in the family’s good graces, while keeping a firm grip on his share of the wealth.
Whatever reason he had for his outrageous libidinous pursuits really didn’t matter to me.
For me? I loved the excitement, the wild thrill of being so out of bounds. And with Jon, I didn’t have to worry about offending him with my own nasty fantasies; his seemed almost as crazy as my kinky ones. Based on our wild sex practices I believed I was madly in love.
Our weekend getaways often became ripe moments for even more outrageous behavior. Six months into the lusty affair we took off for a long weekend in the Bahamas. When he saw one of the waiters paying lots of attention to me, instead of getting jealous, he told me to seduce him. We were by the pool at our hotel, me in my little pink bikini, under an umbrella to protect my delicate skin, while Jon lay next to me soaking up the sun’s fierce rays.
He said ‘seduce him’ and I was immediately aghast. “Seduce him?” I whispered back.
“You can’t tell me you’ve never wanted two men?” he grinned. I couldn’t see his eyes through the sunglasses he used to protect them from the glare, but I could see enough in his smirk to know that he had something wicked planned.
I giggled, feeling very much ashamed that he’d read my own thoughts about the young and sexy waiter. What first seemed unimaginable looked very doable on second thought, and with his encouragement, I pulled off the seduction of the tall, tanned waiter without a hitch. That night was my first double-penetration.
I lured the waiter to our bedroom and began a sexy striptease to keep his interest. Down to my bra and thong I began a little slow dance, moving from Jon to Jorge and back, while weaving an erotic spell around us all. Coy, pouty, with eyes teasingly devoted to them both, I soon had both men charged up. Jon stripped away his shirt and pants while the amazed young waiter simply salivated, looking for a more direct invitation. I suppose that getting down on my knees in front of his crotch was invitation enough. Pulling his cock from inside his pants moved the scene along to its obvious conclusion. Once I had the young man’s erection at my lips, he finally made his move, yanking me by the hair and banging away inside my slick wet mouth.
Not to be denied his own pleasure, Jon finally grabbed me back and shoved me to the bed. Lying down, he waved his rising cock before my eyes and I eagerly scrambled forward, knowing that Jorge would have my ass as his next target. A little frenzied slurping and sucking brought my boyfriend’s cock to its full tumescence, standing straight and rigid before my coveting gaze. I went down again, making him harder still and his flesh expanded so that it more than filled my mouth. I would have been happy just to have him ejaculate down my throat but my feverish fellatio was abruptly cut short when he pulled me up his torso, his lips meeting my mouth for a long deep-throated kiss. His two hands grabbed my ass, and with my legs straddling his hips, he brought my wet vagina down, plunging his cock into the wet-hot canyon. A rhythmic fucking began with no further foreplay and for several minutes I was lost inside the savage pleasure of our coupling, although the sudden feel of Jorge’s hand giving my right ass cheek a firm squeeze immediately startled me back to reality. I became fully aware of the cock that was already in me and the waiter’s probing fingers.
How quickly those two male forces collided with my crotch as their battleground. The eager waiter was aiming for my rear door, pouring lube to grease the path he chose. I seized up briefly as I felt that first thrust of his organ breach my back door, then the
sensation of overwhelming fullness as the two cocks practically tore me apart when they began to move simultaneously inside me. Both were rather sizable and both were going for control. They savaged me until both shot their cum, and left me writhing with an abundance of raw desire and no climax.
After a while, and little clean-up – at my insistence – the two switched places, and that really rocked me. The way their two very different cocks interacted in my pussy and ass went way beyond the sensations of the first double-penetration. Why it was so different, I have no idea, but I can still hear myself screaming as a shocking climax abruptly tore through me.
We were all a shuddering happy mess when it was over.
I would have been happy to invite the waiter to join us the second night of our Bah
amas vacation, but Jon was on to other conquests, like the pretty, young Spanish housemaid who barely spoke a word of English. This time I watched while Jon seduced her, so intent, so smooth with subtleties – almost the way he first seduced me – although it was clear that Anna was intended only to be a trinket for the night.
Once he had the girl slipping out of her little pink maid’s dress and quivering with sexual heat, he had me spank her for being such a ‘naughty girl.’
“Oooo no!” she cried out, as she tried to cover her naked brown body with her arms.
Jon grabbed her back and locked her arm against his side, drilling her with his cruel eyes. The poor girl was shivering with fright until Jon broke the tension with a chortling laugh.
“You let my girlfriend spank you, darling, and I promise you’ll get all the sex you want.” He conveyed his message with the kind of sleazy sexuality the girl apparently desired. In fact, she must have wanted him bad to suddenly change her attitude from one of fear to one that produced a sly smile and a little pornographic shimmy. She met my gaze with her own soulful eyes, then with Jon releasing her, she gingerly moved toward me and went over my lap without a fight. I began a brisk spanking of her pretty behind, noting how the color changed on her wiggling derriere.
This was my first girl-girl action ever – a fact that made my own arousal especially titillating. The soft smooth feel of her feminine skin aroused me. and though I spanked her as Jon ordered, I stopped often to run my hands between her thighs and feel for her gathering juices. Touching her skin was like nothing else I’d ever experienced. In time, we were both giggling and cooing, getting into bisexual eroticism so deeply that we hardly remembered that Jon was in the room watching.
Suddenly, he moved in, disturbing the sensuous ambiance, and grabbing her off my lap, he yanked her to the bed. With her on hands and knees, his cock moved in swiftly to spear her ass; neither she nor I were laughing as he forcefully grabbed onto her plump round cheeks and pumped his seed in her nether hole. I couldn’t tell if she liked that kind of sex, but she didn’t try to leave when Jon was done.
Nightmare of Vengeance Page 3