by AJ Adams
The first week, Kyle stayed home for my “debrief”. It sounds kind of military, like all hot bright lights and shouting, but actually we sat on the deck and in the kitchen as I typed up every name and drop that I could remember making. Then Kyle asked lots of questions, and that was pretty much that. I was quite surprised about how much I knew. I’ve always kept my ears open, and I’ve a good memory, so I gave Kyle pretty much the whole of Rimjob’s network.
I know Kyle was chuffed, and when he took me to Arturo’s for another family party, his brother smiled on me kindly, too. Very kindly. He even gave me one of his micro-brews. I pretended to like it (I didn’t do the fake orgasm bit; it would have been too much) and when he looked away, Kyle took it out of my hand and drank it. I like a glass of wine, or a rum and coke, but I really can’t stand beer. Kyle never makes a fuss, but he’s always looking out for me. I love it.
So when the main part of the debrief was over, we settled into a pattern. Kyle went off every now again on business, but he was usually home by dark. I never asked him what he was doing, and he never told, but I know that it involved a lot of rough stuff. Sometimes he’d strip in the kitchen and put his clothes straight into the washing machine. On those days the water would be a bit pink. Blood, I guess. But as long as it wasn’t his, I didn’t care. Life is nasty, brutish and short, someone once said, and all I cared about was making the best of it.
I was in love, and life was sweet.
Another good thing was that Kyle was slowly breaking me out of my fuckbot ways.
“I’ve a book here you have to read,” he said one afternoon.
It was an ebook called Deprogramming and Thought Reform. It was a bit weird until I figured out that it was a military manual.
“Mac sent it,” Kyle said. “It’s for turning terrorists, but the principles should work for us, too.”
I admit that I was a bit nervous. “Are you sure you won’t turn my brain to mush?” I asked Kyle. “And who is Mac? Is he one of the Calcutta Macs?”
Kyle likes it when I’m cheeky, so I play up to him a bit, just to see him grin.
“Mac’s an old friend, and I’ll be extra careful not to mush your brain.”
It was all a bit weird because the book assumed that I wanted to be crazy. So we skipped all the bits about getting me to rethink my reality and went straight to the chapter that talked about changing your behaviour. Basically, you just pick one thing you want to change, figure out why you do it, and stop yourself doing it. It sounds complicated but it isn’t. Like that thing I do when I think Kyle’s upset, that kitten cuddle thing. The next time Kyle frowned, and I moved in with the cutesy look, I stopped and backed off. The world didn’t fall apart, and that made it easier next time round.
Don’t get me wrong! I knew I may never be totally normal, but I was beginning to clean that fucker Raj out of me, and that made me feel terrific. Kyle was happy, too. I knew that he loathed my inner fuckbot and liked the feisty me, and I was determined that that’s what he was going to get. I wanted to be everything he wanted me to be. Yeah, I know, it’s unhealthy. But that’s what I wanted. To be perfect for Kyle.
Anyway, a month to the day after Kyle had shown me what Raj was really like, he got a call and disappeared overnight. I was a bit freaked, but I made it without hiding under the bed or panicking or anything.
When Kyle got back, he had a Siamese cat with him. With my shitty background, I’ve never had a pet or even thought much about them, but from the second we laid eyes on each other, Raoul and I were soul mates.
Kyle explained that Raoul’s family didn’t want him anymore, which is why he’d be living with us. He seemed a bit offhand about it, so I expect that someone got badly hurt or maybe killed, and that Kyle decided to adopt Raoul. Kyle had been away all night, and that was a sure sign of trouble. But as he didn’t want to talk about it, I didn’t question him.
Kyle wasn’t hungry, so after he had a beer, I pushed him into a hot shower, and took a bar of soap and a loofah to help him get clean. I love showering with Kyle. He’s got a terrific body, all muscle under the softest skin. He doesn’t have a hairy chest either. Rimjob has a hairy chest, see, so I’m a bit particular about that. Kyle has a five o’clock shadow that’s like a cheese grater if you kiss him at the wrong time of day, but for some reason, his chest is smooth. I love it.
So there I was, soaping him up while humming The Sorcerer’s Apprentice from that Disney film, ‘Fantasia’ because I was cleaning right? Kyle was half grinning because he loves my funny turns and half groaning because I was paying particular attention to his tackle.
His cock was standing straight in the air, and he had both hands on my shoulders as I got down on my knees and licked his shaft. I could feel his hands gripping tighter and then loosening up again. Kyle’s very strong, but since that first day when he went a bit overboard in the rose garden, he’d been very careful. I don’t even have a finger bruise after our wildest fucks.
So I was running my tongue over his cock as the water was cascading over us. There was the scent of Kyle’s favourite peppermint scrub in the air, and it was all steamy. It’s like being in a scented warm waterfall. I rubbed his balls, feeling them tighten as I slowly took him in my mouth. I sucked gently, rubbing his sack and running a finger into his bum crack. He moaned and began to thrust his cock into my throat. I could taste that saltiness of his pre cum. I ran my tongue over his pulsing erection and then slowly pulled back, leaving it waving wetly in the air as I got on with scrubbing his knees and shins with the loofah.
“Chloe, dear God, pitufa, don’t tease.”
He was begging me, and I was loving it better than Big Macs.
“Well, if you insist…”
Then I threw away the loofah and got down to business. Get it? Yeah, an old pun but one of the best! Like me!
I held his cock with one hand and slid my other around his balls. Then I went down on him slowly, licking, nibbling and rubbing. He was groaning, his hands in my hair, his fingers gripping me as he stood on the balls of his feet, rocking gently.
I took his throbbing knob into my mouth, feeling the tip rub against the back of my throat. His moans were echoing around the shower stall. His breath was coming out in gasps as he started thrusting into my mouth. I put my head back and let him grind deeper into my throat. He made a grunting sound and his hips began to move faster. I couldn’t take him all, but I was running my hand over the exposed part of his shaft.
All this time water was flowing all over us, lubricating and warming as it ran over our skin. The heat in my belly was now pooling and gathering, too. The feel of his hands in my hair, the gasped love words, sweetheart, pitufa, lyubov moya, were turning me on.
I felt his throbbing cock begin to pulse. I relaxed and let him take over. He was holding me steady now, focusing on fucking my face. I could feel my nipples harden as he groaned my name. I sucked harder, loving him, revelling in the feel of his hardness, drowning in the scent of his hot body. Him being turned on got me going. I could hear myself moaning. I wanted him inside me. I could feel a pulse throbbing between my legs as the heat inside me built.
He was pumping hard now, driving deep inside my throat, his gasping breath echoing all around us. I squeezed the base of his shaft gently with my fingers, felt his entire body freeze in position, and then he was yelling, and I was drowning in the saltiness of his orgasm.
By the time he stopped shuddering, I was so hot and bothered that I almost came myself. Kyle picked me up, carried me out of the shower, and threw me on the bed, all wet and soapy, and started kissing me all over. I was just lying there, moaning and twitching, totally ready for him.
You know, if you’d told me a few weeks ago that I’d be panting for it, I would have laughed in your face. I thought I’d never have sex again, at least not willingly. All right, at the beginning it wasn’t spectacular every time. Some of the things we did made me a bit nervous because of bad memories. But he hadn’t hurt me, not one little bit, and in my book that
means it’s fucking fantastic. That’s a pun. I thought I’d point that out, just in case you missed it.
Since the night he took me home from Arturo’s the second time, it was just brilliant every time. Kyle got me to the stage where he just had to touch me to turn me on.
When we finally finished a most brilliant fuck, I saw Kyle was a bit tired. I made him roll onto his front, and went to work on the back of his neck, getting deep into the trapezius muscles. Pretty soon I had him groaning happily again. I must say, I’m pretty good at massage. Best not to ask how I learned, though. It would harsh my mellow, as Kyle would say.
“You know, Kyle,” I said to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”
“That’s good, pitufa.”
“Rimjob said I was making a mistake,” I went on like a silly cow. “Bet he’d be fucking furious if he saw us now.”
“Hmmm.”
“He said you’d eat me alive.”
“Not now, honey. Maybe later.”
Kyle’s got a filthy sense of humour. I like that.
“He said you were some sort of devil, and that you’d killed your wife, and that you’d kill me too.”
I knew the moment I said it that I shouldn’t have. The stupid thing was that I did it because I thought that wank biscuit had made it up just to scare me. Kyle never said anything about a wife, nor did anyone who came to see him. There were no pictures, not one, and by this time I’d gone through all his stuff. Mostly because I have this neat thing but also because I’m a nosy cow, and spring-cleaning gave me an excuse to get into everything.
I’d found a folder of photos: of him and his family when they were little, of him in uniform, and in a desert, holding a rifle, and of the house, being built room by room. Lots of photos but not one of a wedding or one with anyone who looked like a girlfriend or wife. So I thought it was a windup. But it wasn’t. The moment the words were out of my mouth, Kyle’s whole body tensed. Then he got goose bumps and pulled away from me. The second I saw that, I knew what it meant. It was all true. Suddenly, I was cold to the marrow.
Kyle didn’t say a word. He just pretended nothing had happened. He looked calm as always as he put an arm around me, pulled me down next to him, and patted me in a friendly way before falling asleep, out like a light in a single breath as always. He hadn’t said anything but I knew that Kyle had murdered his wife.
The idea scared me. Don’t get me wrong; I knew Kyle was no angel, well, unless you mean a dark one, but I didn’t think he could kill someone he loved. I also couldn’t imagine him marrying without love because Kyle never does anything he doesn’t want to. So he must have fallen for her, married her, and then killed her.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d been very stupid. I’d told him everything, given him everything, and now I had nothing left. I’d lost the plot because I’d fallen in love, and even though I knew he probably didn’t love me, I thought that he’d never hurt me, even when he got tired of me, because we were friends. And of course at the back of my mind, I was sort of hoping that his kindness was more than just liking me.
What a laugh, huh? Me, falling for a man. But I had, and I had this crazy idea that with time, he might even love me back. When I thought about it, I decided I’d been fooled into giving it all up because Kyle was the first person ever to be kind to me.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had people who’ve been nice to me, but it was always because they wanted a fuck. I was giving blowjobs in exchange for sweets and cuddles when I was ten, and I had my first man when I was twelve. He got me drunk, and he slapped me about afterwards, too, but the ones that followed gave me presents and pretended to like me. Growing up in foster homes makes you kind of needy, I guess.
By the time I was fifteen, I was wild and about a hundred years old. Then there was the bad time, let’s not dwell on it, and then it was back into the world where people were still only nice when they wanted to fuck me. The only difference then was that I’d learned how to use men without giving them anything more than a grin and glimpse of boob in return. Nobody had ever been nice to me just for the hell of it. Except for Kyle.
I’d been feeling safe and liked, and I was thinking that maybe I’d found a home, a place where I was wanted, when my bubble burst. Kyle’s soft words were just so he could get what he wanted: a good fuck, some companionship and everything I had on Rimjob. I had to face the truth: Kyle was a killer, a man incapable of love. It was hard to accept that he would never love me, but in the days that followed, Kyle didn’t even seem to like me anymore. He even stopped talking to me.
I was devastated.
I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but I didn’t know how. I practiced talking it through with Raoul a million times but when Kyle came home, I just didn’t have the nerve to speak up. Kyle wasn’t nasty or anything, he just distanced himself from me. After weeks of spending almost all of his time with me, he was suddenly out at all hours. When he did come home, he ate, had a few drinks, and then balled me before falling asleep.
Kyle’s not talkative, and I could have understood that he might suddenly be busy but what was freaking me out was that he didn’t seem turned on by me anymore. Since the first time he’d seen me, Kyle had lusted for me. From the moment he had me, back in the rose garden, he’d fucked me three times a day - and sometimes more. He’d had me every which way but Tuesday, and I’d loved it, but after that night, Kyle didn’t seem that interested. He had me, but it was just plain fucking. It was quick, too. He just talked nice and fingered me till I came, had me, and then fell asleep. It hurt that Kyle didn’t love me, but it tore my soul that he wasn’t even interested in me anymore.
I didn’t show him I was hurt because there’s no point in whining and begging. That doesn’t mean I just gave up, either. I worked out what he’d liked most, so I was cheerful, chirpy and cheeky. I also worked hard at getting him hot, showing off my best tricks. It made no difference. When he came home very late Thursday night, I suggested a hot tub, a massage, and a happy ending with me on top, he just shook his head.
“Not tonight, pitufa. I’m beat.” Kyle spoke gently as always and he stroked my arm in a nice way, but then he just rolled into the shower, collapsed into bed, and was asleep in seconds. When I walked past the laundry basket, I could smell his clothes; they stank of smoke. I sniffed again, and there was also perfume. Like he’d been in a dark, super smoky pub. He’d probably had a hooker, or two, before coming home.
On Friday, I waited for him naked in bed, ready to wow him with some seriously kinky stuff, sure he’d love it. Kyle came in late, had a shower, and then crawled into bed, wearing a tee. When I curled up against him, he grunted and moved away from me. OK, afterwards he said that he had a bitch of a day, and he did kiss me, but then he rolled over and went to sleep. I could see the writing on the wall; Kyle didn’t want me anymore.
I was dead scared that he wouldn’t just let me go back to work. He’d said several times that I did my best work in the bedroom, you see, and I thought it meant he’d decided I was to become a whore after all. Not that I thought he’d put me in a brothel. No, I was frightened that he’d give me to Arturo or one of his men as a girlfriend. That’s what happens to girls like me. We get passed around, until someone either decides we’re worth keeping or until they bash us on the head because it’s easier than passing us along. I knew I’d become disposable again – and it hurt like hell.
So when I woke up on Saturday morning and found Kyle had gone without even kissing me goodbye, I packed my backpack, gave Raoul a big plate of tinned tuna, kissed his soft fur, and left. This time, I didn’t leave a note.
Chapter 11: Kyle
I shouldn’t have let it rile me; God knows I should have understood that Chloe was worried. After all, she didn’t have any reason to trust me. As far as she knew, I’d kept her around because she’s good in bed. Or maybe because of what she could tell me, because I wanted to fuck over Rimjob. She didn’t know that I’d come to like her and that I would look out
for her, even if we decided to call it a day.
You see, I’d fallen for her. I think it happened a day or so after I slugged Rimjob in the guts. We’d been working on her debrief, and afterwards we had a great dinner, barbequed steak and a salad with a good wine, and then we sat and looked at the stars – just sitting, doing nothing.
At about midnight, we hit the rack, and after getting her all soft and happy by stroking her hair and talking to her, telling her how sweet she was, I decided to take her through the second dream, the one where he butt-fucks her for the first time.
Unlike the dream, I used lots of lube, whispered sweet nothings in her ear and took it slow. I’d done it a few times before, and Chloe had been fine. She knew I wouldn’t hurt her, see? But this time it was different. By the time I was balls deep inside her, she was rippling slowly underneath me, completely relaxed as her tight hot butt clamped around my cock.
I was kneeling over her, taking my weight on my hands and knees for leverage and so I could look down at her while I was doing her. As I moved my hips, I could see her ass quivering as she bore up and down slowly, taking me deep inside her. I’d used so much lube that her thighs were gleaming with it. As my balls slapped gently against her skin, they became drenched with it, too.
She reached down slowly, putting her hands between her legs. I thought she was going to rub her clit but I should have known better: her focus was on pleasing me. Her fingers spread out, rubbing my shaft and balls as I drove in and out of her. The feather light touch almost set me off. It took all of my self-control not to slap her on the ass and ride the wave in.
At first we fucked in total silence. She didn’t make a sound as I rode her, and I’m in good shape so I was breathing slow and steady. All I could hear was the river flowing in the distance and the odd birdcall. Then the way she matched my moves spread the fire from my cock to the rest of me. I picked up the pace and began to sweat.