Friday night, a few weeks ago, I'm out drinking in town with my girlfriend. She has a hot little dress on, generating buckets of male attention. There's one guy who seems especially smitten. He's sat on his own, a weedy-looking type, maybe about fifty, and he's having many a sneaky lech in her direction. 'Baby, you have a big fan over there,' I tell her, grinning because it's quite funny. Emma is nineteen and gorgeous whereas this guy ... well, c'mon, for fuck's sake. As if.
Emma receives the news with equanimity. My girlfriend knows she has legions of 'fans' in here tonight. With the outfit she's wearing she'd be mortally offended if she didn't. She takes a look at where I'm subtly indicating. 'Who? The little guy in the corner?'
'That's the one.'
She makes a sound somewhere between a giggle and a snort.
He gets up and we see he's extremely short, not quite a dwarf or anything but a real shortcake, five foot nothing, He walks to the bar to get another beer. Correction: 'walks' doesn't quite cover it because his little legs kind of knock together and he has a limp, also lists way over to one side as he moves. Yep, this guy is really Mister Unfortunate. All very precarious, it seems to me, but he does just about manage to get to the bar and back.
Emma looks amused. 'Where's his carer?'
'Dunno, babe. But he's definitely checking you out. Doing it again now.'
She lights a cigarette and laughs. 'Is he?' She's in her element being lusted over by strangers. If steamy looks could kill, Em would have been long dead.
'Can't seem to take his eyes off your legs.'
Em angles towards her admirer. She slowly crosses and re-crosses her legs, lets her dress ride up an inch or so further, showing a little more of her luscious thighs. The guy drools at the sight, then looks quickly away, stares into his glass, embarrassed as he realises Em is watching him.
She turns back to me, grinning. 'Well he can always look, Mark, can't he?'
'Yeah, at what he can't have. Must be great.'
She sniggers slightly, changes the subject, and we chat for a while. I'm feeling horny. The gimp in the corner isn't the only one thinking dirty thoughts about Emma, believe me. She's looking good enough to eat tonight and I want to be doing precisely that. I interrupt what she's saying (it's something about getting a new car) to tell her this, tell her how drop-dead, fucking gorgeous she is. It's perhaps the millionth time I've said it in the six months we've been going out. She can't suppress a smug 'yeah, I know' smile.
There's a glint in her eye now. 'Hey, that little guy, you know ...'
She nods. 'Him. Is he still eyeing me up?'
Understatement. The guy is transfixed and I tell her so. Emma flicks her hair and does the leg-crossing thing again, slips a shoe and dangles it from her foot, idly scratches an 'itch' on her thigh, just under her dress. 'And now?' she grins.
'He's fucking dribbling,' I chuckle. 'You shouldn't tease the guy, Em. It's not fair. It's mean.'
She smirks. 'Guess he doesn't see much action, huh?'
'Think that's safe to say, Em, yes.'
Emma goes quiet as she finishes her drink. She looks thoughtful. 'You ok, babe?' I enquire.
'Yeah ... I was just thinking.' She has a sly smile on her face.
'Thinking what, babe?'
She leans in and tells me her little plan.
'You bitch, Em. But yeah, sure, why not. We've got your folk's place to ourselves, right?'
'All weekend,' she giggles.
So we go join the guy at his table and introduce ourselves. Mark and Emma. Out for a good time tonight and great to meet him. 'Derek,' he mumbles, confused at first but face now brightening up. He can hardly believe what's happening, me and this delicious young thing hooking up with him. Guy is obviously pretty lonely, used to being ignored and not much else. 'Derek!' I say, smiling and pumping his hand. 'That's a nice name,' coos Emma, sitting herself in close. 'Get you another beer, Derek?' I ask. He nods, has this really grateful expression on his weak, ugly-mug face. 'What about you, Em?' I say, winking at her. Em winks back, a wicked smile playing on her full, pouty lips. 'Yes, another white wine please.'
When I return with the drinks, Em has moved even closer to Derek and she's being all teasy and flirty with him. He's trying manfully not to stare at her legs, I notice, which she's making difficult with how she's sitting. Yeah, she's giving the poor guy quite an eyeful. 'Cheers, Derek!' I say, lifting my glass, and Emma echoes it.
'Ch-Cheers,' Derek stammers. Silly sod is rather overwhelmed by the whole thing.
We sip our drinks and get very cosy and familiar with the guy. Car accident, he tells us, a few years back. Legs messed up but they still just about work. Wife has left him, no kids, no job, lives alone. Takes care of himself, he's determined to stay independent, but it's not easy, he says. It's a real fucking sob story, indeed he does get slightly tearful as he relates it. We commiserate and cheer him up. I call him 'mate' and 'Degsy', stuff like that, and Emma flirts like crazy, making out that she fancies the pants off him. She plays with her hair, smiles into his eyes, has her hand resting lightly on his arm, starts calling him 'sweetie', really gives him the treatment. She teases mercilessly with her legs, flaunting them at the poor guy. Derek tries not to leer but he can't help it. 'It's ok, sweetie, you can look,' smiles Emma, eventually. 'I like dishy older men staring at my legs.' She's a scream, my girlfriend, she really is.
Emma excuses herself for the bathroom ('Back in a minute, boys,' she pouts) and once she's disappeared I grin suggestively at our new 'friend' Derek. 'Hey, Degsy, wanna come back to our place?'
He's not sure how to respond.
'Yeah, c'mon,' I press. 'Em's really into you, it's obvious, and I don't mind.'
'Really?' says Derek, looking rather sheepish.
I shrug. 'Whatever makes her happy ... You know what I mean?'
Derek blushes and nods.
Emma returns and I inform her that Derek's coming home with us. She's delighted. 'Oh Derek, sweetie, that's great!' she exclaims, smiling seductively, gazing at this gimp as if he's the man of her dreams.
We drink and chat a while longer. Derek, nervous and hot to trot, rather gulps the rest of his beer, but me and Emma take our time. Emma is interested in precisely how screwed up his legs are. Can he walk ok? Yes, he tells her. Just not very fast and not very far. Does he have a car? No, he can't afford one. He's stony broke. He can make the rent, eat, a few beers on a Friday night, that's it. Doesn't even have a phone. Em is massively sympathetic. She tells him he's living for a year on what she spends every week just on clothes. This is true enough. Em's the only child of stinking rich parents and 'Daddy' spoils her rotten, funds eye-watering amounts on her charge card, no questions asked. Whatever his beautiful darling daughter wants, she gets. She's got it made, Emma has. 'Must be so tough for you, poor thing,' she says, her hand falling to Derek's knee, squeezing it. Derek shrugs, says he gets by. 'So brave, as well as handsome,' coos Emma, and Derek shrugs again, smiling bashfully, chest swelling.
Me, I'm just creasing inside by now, at how she's toying with this hapless character.
She slides her hand up his skinny thigh, comes to rest a couple of inches from his groin. Emma's leant right forward, doing this, and what that means for Degsy is he not only has her fingers almost brushing his cock, he's also getting a glimpse of paradise down the top of her dress. The view down there, a pair of sumptuous breasts nestling in the skimpiest of white lace bras, is enough to drive any man wild, trust me, so you can imagine the effect on poor old Derek. He'll be messing his pants, by the looks of him, if Em carries on like this much longer. She's giving him a saucy and meaningful grin, letting him know that she knows exactly what she's doing and that she's enjoying his arousal. 'Anyway, enough of all this, your gammy legs and stuff, you're fine to ... you know ... you can make love to a girl, sweetie, can't you?'
'Definitely, Emma!' he blurts. Oh man.
'Been a while though, mate, I suppose?' I chip in.
Derek grins ruefully. 'Yeah, sure has.'
I take a final swig and slam my glass down on the table. 'So, people, what are we waiting for? ... Let's go!'
He needs a pee first and so do I. We go to the gents and Derek makes for a cubicle. 'Need any help, mate?' I enquire.
'Nah, Mark, I'm fine,' he says, ashamed that I've asked. 'You sure?' I prod, smiling down at the sad little cunt, relishing the difference. He shakes his head. 'Well ok, just shout if you do,' I say, like he's a small boy. He hated that, I can tell.
I finish up and rejoin my girlfriend. 'Is he ok?' she giggles.
'Just about. God, Em, did you see the way he was slobbering at your tits. Bet the poor bastard hasn't had any in years.'
Emma tries to reply but can't, she's having a major fit of the funnies. 'Pull yourself together, babe,' I warn. 'He'll be back in a minute.'
She does, thankfully, because here he comes, old Degsy, gimping doggedly back to our table. It's quite an entertaining spectacle. 'Oh jesus,' Emma sniggers softly. A few of the other drinkers are looking and smirking, I notice, wondering what the hell me and Em are playing at, linking up with this pathetic old geezer. Just as well they don't know, I tell myself.
Am I ok with it though? Fuck, yes. Emma's idea, admittedly, but I'm totally getting off on the scenario, it's giving me quite a hard-on.
We leave and go to our car. I walk alongside Derek the gimp (gee, he's painfully slow) and my girlfriend saunters in front, wiggling her hips and ass, generally being a grade A tease in her heels and her little 'fuck me' dress. It has the desired impact. Derek's so tantalised and excited his tongue is hanging out.
I hold one of the rear doors open and he struggles in. Em giggles and gets in the back with him and I drive us off. It's a short journey, only ten minutes, but by the time we get to the house Derek's in a state. Why? Well because Emma has been revving him up back there. She's been whispering sweet nothings into his ear and gently fingering his dick through his pants. 'Mmm, it certainly all works down below, sweetie, doesn't it?' I hear her purr, which cracks me up.
I park in the drive and me and Em get out. We gurn at each other, savouring the prospect of the weekend. The house is big and detached, very private, well away from any other properties. We can do pretty much whatever we want now we've got him here.
We help him out of the car and we enter the house. I close the door and put the chain on. 'Home sweet home,' I grin, and I squeeze Emma's ass through her dress. She giggles and kisses me. We take Derek into the lounge and show him to an armchair. It's a large chair and Derek's height (lack of) means his feet don't touch the floor as he's sitting, which is pretty amusing.
Me and Emma flop down on the sofa, snuggle into each other, and we start laughing at Derek. No words, we simply sit there and giggle at him. His face is a picture. He looks upset suddenly, and also scared.. He senses he's in for a bad time and there's not a great deal he can do about it. He's gone from heaven to hell in the space of a few seconds.
'So, Degsy, welcome to our parlour.' My tone removes any doubt about what's going on here. He looks beseechingly at me and then, even more so, at Emma. 'Emma?' he mutters.
'Aw, look. Poor thing thought he was going to fuck me or something, Mark, didn't he?'
'Yes, baby, I do believe he did. Moron.'
'Hey, I have an idea!'
'What's that, Em?'
'Well he can't fuck me, obviously, I don't go with gimps, but he can watch you fuck me, can't he?'
'Yeah, I guess so. Sure, babe, I don't mind.'
'Would you like that, gimpy? Watching me having sex with my boyfriend?'
No reply from Derek. 'I'll take that as a yes,' Emma giggles, rising from the sofa and going over to him. She tweaks his nose, tickles him under the chin, tousles his hair. 'And then you're going to be our toy for the weekend. It'll be nice for me and Mark, having a little toy to play with, won't it?'
'No, please,' protests Derek in a thin, small voice. He attempts to get up from the chair but Emma pushes him firmly back. Poor guy is so feeble he's no match even for a girl.
Emma gazes down at Derek and starts musing about all the different ways that she and I might 'play with our new toy' over the next couple of days. She goes on for ages, describing in salacious detail the horrors planned for him. The little wretch is so frightened he's almost crapping himself. 'No!' he yells out, as Emma begins telling him about something particularly unspeakable involving the shower.
Course, we're not actually going to do most of this stuff, we have no intention of going to prison, but Derek doesn't know that, does he? And that's the point. We have this poor, defenceless guy utterly terrified and at our mercy. All weekend.
'Come over here, Marky. You can slap him around a little.'
'Love to,' I say, grinning menacingly. Derek cowers in the chair, puts his arms up in front of his face, but I'm easily strong enough to get both of his wrists in one hand and slap his face with the other. I deal him a couple of lazy stingers while my girlfriend looks on laughing. 'Ouch,' mouths Emma, her pretty face flushed with excitement.
The gimp is sobbing, his cheeks glowing red, and I'm enjoying how abject he is. Em notices the bulge in my pants. She gazes at it ostentatiously, pouts at me, licks her lips, makes it clear that she wants me right now.
We return to the couch, rip each other's clothes off and fuck our brains out. I grin across at Derek while I'm doing it. He just snivels in his chair. Afterwards we lie there naked, contentedly chatting, Em smoking, both of us generally ignoring him.
Then Emma gets up and strolls over. She poses and preens for the gimp, flaunts her magnificent body. 'Look at me, gimpy. Aren't I hot? Aren't I beautiful?'
'You'd just love to fuck me, wouldn't you?'
'But you can't, can you?'
'Because you're a gimp, aren't you? And hotties like me only fuck real men. How about an apology for not being a real man?'
Derek says how sorry he is. Sounds like he means it too.
Emma is giggling uncontrollably. 'Would you like to get down on the floor and worship me? ... I think you would ... I think gimpy wants to tell Empress Emma how fabulous she is. How much he adores her.'
I jump up and join in. 'Yeah, gimp,' I snarl. 'Down on your belly and grovel. Lick the Empress's feet, slave-boy.'
He does. He's so scared he'll do or say anything we tell him to.
'Now, on your knees and kiss her ass ... Yeah, that's right ... Ok, now it's the Emperor's turn. That's me, spazzball, in case you hadn't guessed. Yeah, me. So c'mon, you little piece of shit, kiss my ass.'
Derek shuffles on his knees and switches from Emma's ass to mine. Not such a great trade from his point of view. I keep him at it for a while. Couple of times I fart in his face, which makes Emma just about wet herself. 'Let's strip him now,' she suggests gleefully.
'Ok, babe.' I push Derek to the floor, tear his shirt off, revealing his weedy little torso, and Emma says she'll do the rest. 'Sure, baby,' I grin. Em unzips his trousers and starts to slide them off. Derek wriggles around trying to prevent her. She gets a little annoyed. 'Mark, honey, can you stop him moving?' It's no problem. I prod him in the ribs and tell him if he doesn't stay still and let Emma finish undressing him I'll cut his fucking balls off and feed them to him. He stops fighting. 'Thanks, baby,' says Emma. She removes his trousers and his pants, then his shoes and socks, all three of us now naked. 'Yuck. Isn't he horrible?' she giggles.
'Fucking is,' I sneer.
We hunker down on the floor, Derek flat on his back, me and Emma reclining comfortably either side of him, ready to have our wicked way. I stick a finger in his ear while Emma toys with his cock, gives him a hard-on. 'Oooo look, Mark,' she giggles. She carries on until Derek is about to cum, then she stops, leaving him cruelly unsatisfied. She does the maddening tease over and over, has him howling with frustration. 'Oh you utter bitch, Em,' I tell her, cracking up with laughter.
Em gets bored of this, finally, and she saunters off to get a cigarette. She lights it and comes back and stands over Derek, her foot on his chest. She blows softly on the end of the cigarette, making it glow. 'This weekend is going to be such fun, Derek, isn't it?' she says, smiling down at him. It's rather an enigmatic smile. 'He is definitely staying the weekend, Marky, right?'
'Sure, babe, if you want him to.'
'Oh, I do.'