Opening Caitlin

Caitlin held the message slip carefully, as though it might burn her if she clutched it too tightly, looked at the number for a long moment, then held her breath and dialed.

"R. Smith Consultants," a smooth-voiced receptionist said.

"Uh, Richard Smith, please," Caitlin said.

"Just a moment."

Once upon a time, Caitlin and Richard had been friends. Once upon a time, Caitlin had thought about Richard every waking moment; her crush had been ferocious back in the day, and she had wondered about Richard ever since he'd moved away.

And now he'd moved back into town.

Richard picked up the phone, and Caitlin felt a small, panicky thrill when she heard his voice. She said hello, identified herself, and then, against her will, let out a nervous giggle.

"Caitlin... Walters?" he asked, as though confused.

That was as effective as a cold shower, she decided.

"Sorry to have bothered you, Richard," she said. "I just thought you might remember me... and want to catch up on old times."

"I do!" Richard said. "I do. I just--Caitlin, it's good to hear from you. Would you like to have dinner?"

"Sure," she said, though she was no longer so sure. She began to list off places downtown.

"No," he said, cutting through her list. "I thought you could cook for me."

She was silent for a moment.

"Beef Wellington?" he asked.

"Certainly," she said, and they made the arrangements. When she hung up the phone, she sighed with relief and something like exhaustion. "You do remember me," she murmured. Five years before, she had been trying to perfect her Beef Wellington, and Richard had volunteered for guinea pig duty several times.

She was an idiot, but she wasn't as much of one as she'd feared.

---

He was a guest in her home, and she foolishly worried about how to entertain him.

Dinner came and went, and Caitlin grew more and more nervous as the night progressed. When she knocked over her half-full wine glass, Richard took her hand and said, "All I want is to spend a little time with you. To sit together, like we used to, and have you tell me your secrets."

"My secrets," she said, staring at him. He had grown more attractive with time, and all she had grown was fatter--up two cup sizes, in fact, and another size of jeans. "It's been five years. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"It's simple enough," he said. "You just have to relax. Open up to me."

They sat on opposite ends of the couch for a time, holding their after-dinner coffee, and made no real headway in the conversation.

"Maybe I should just go home," he said after an extended awkward silence.

"Maybe," Caitlin said, and thought regretfully of the fresh sheets on the bed upstairs, and the lacy underwear she'd bought, just in case.

In the foyer, she helped him with his coat. He paused in putting his scarf around his neck, and peered upstairs. "Big house," he said.

"Yes," she said, uncertain, and opened the front door. The storm door leaked cold, damp air, but it stopped most of the winter weather from coming in.

"Come here," he said. "Let's have a hug, for old time's sake."

She went, willingly enough, and put her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair gently, with warm delicacy that she couldn't pretend wasn't there. She suppressed a shiver.

His hand trailed from her shoulder to her neck, from her neck to her cheek, from her cheek to her lips. His thumbs traced her lips once, twice. Involuntarily, she opened them, and he pressed the advantage immediately, sliding the tip of his thumb inside. She closed her teeth firmly before his thumb could gain further entrance.

"Open," he said, his voice low and rough. She did not obey, keeping her teeth stubbornly together, pulling back and staring at him. He glared at her, and pushed his thumb against her teeth. "Open!"

Hesitantly, she parted her teeth, and his thumb penetrated her mouth to push firmly down on her tongue, rubbing back and forth as though feeling the texture of it. Delicately, she pushed her tongue against his thumb, stroking the wide, blunt digit, and blushed to do it. Good God, I'm licking his thumb, she thought.

"Very good, Caitlin," he murmured, and pulled the thumb from her mouth.

They stood there in the entrance way for a long moment, looking at each other.

Then, with one hand on the side of her neck, he slowly and deliberately raised his blunt thumb and pressed it to her lips again. Contrarily, she did not open her mouth for him.

"Open," he said roughly, and gripped the side of her neck harder, using it to hold her head while he pushed his thumb into her mouth. "Do what I tell you."

Strangely, obediently, she parted her lips again, and again, his thumb invaded her mouth, sensuously stroking her tongue. "Close your eyes," he told her. She did, and stood there, jaw slack and eyes squinted shut, feeling his thumb rub her tongue over and over, thrusting like a--

Just as suddenly as it had invaded her mouth, he drew his thumb out, and rubbed the wetness from her mouth over her lips.

She felt him come closer, step up against her body, and she thought he might kiss her then, but she was too afraid to open her eyes.

Then, she felt her wrap shirt being parted, the cold draft from the storm door raising gooseflesh on her skin; when she opened her eyes, his rough fingers where spilling her tits out of her bra. Her nipples swelled beneath his touch; he stroked the calluses of his thumbs over the nipples again and again. She gasped.

"No one told you to open your eyes," he said, keeping his eyes on her nipples. She hesitated for a moment. "Close them," he told her firmly, and flicked a nail across one nipple. When she shut her eyes again, she felt his hot mouth engulfing the tip of her left breast. She moaned and writhed against him, and suddenly his hands were everywhere, caressing her back and arms, pushing her body upwards towards his greedy, feeding mouth. The suction grew nearly painful, and she shook with conflicting desires to push him away and to pull him closer, but most of all she wanted to beg him to never stop touching her.

It was as close as he'd come to showing a lack of control since he'd first fucked her mouth with his thumb, and he regained that control almost as soon as he lost it, pulling back from her nipple.

"Your tits are fucking beautiful, Cait," he breathed, and teased each nipple to its ripest, fullest swelling, while she struggled to maintain her feet.

"Oh, God," she whispered, and let her head loll backward.

He pulled his mouth from her right nipple with an audible pop, and Caitlin realized the door behind her was still leaking cold air onto her back. Caitlin hoped none of her neighbors were out for a walk. They'd be able to see everything going on in the foyer through the glass of the storm door. "Richard," she said. "No, Richard, stop, let me close the door, the neighbors will see."

"No," he said, and twirling her around, he pushed her forward, against the storm door. She moaned when her nipples met the chill, damp glass of the door, and Richard's hand came around to her face, holding her chin, while his mouth came close to her ear. "Let them see. Look. Open your eyes and look."

She opened her eyes. There, beyond the dim yellow glow of the porch light, she could see Mr. Lanners out with his dog, stopped and staring at her. She gasped in surprise. At the same moment, Richard grabbed her skirt and pushed it up around her waist, and nudged at her feet, trying to part her thighs. Caitlin closed her eyes again, just so she wouldn't have to see Mr. Lanners.

She squirmed, trying to pull back from the door and away from Richard, but he was holding her too tightly, pushing her into the door with too much force. "Open to me!" Richard said into her ear. "God damn it, open!"

Caitlin spraddled her legs slightly, trying to obey him and give him better access to her pussy. He grunted in satisfaction, and traced a delicate finger over her lace-covered slit, rubbing so lightly she barely felt it--and yet wanted more. She parted her legs more, moved her hips back towards him in pursuit of that finger--and never once forgot that Mr. Lanners was watching her get felt up in her foyer.

"Please... people can see us," Caitlin said. "We can just go upstairs..."

Richard's response was to thrust the thumb of the hand holding her chin into her mouth, and to begin fucking her mouth swiftly with it.

"You will open to me when I want, and where I want, Caitlin."

"No," she said thickly, trying to speak around his thumb. "I don't want this."

"Yes, you do. You're wet down your thighs. Your panties are soaked."

With his other hand, he pushed aside the crotch of her panties, and thrust his thumb inside of her, and finger-fucking her there in time with the thrusts in her mouth.

"No!" Caitlin cried past the thumb, feeling the blush of humiliation deepening and spreading across her body. Richard's thumb drove into her again and again.

She opened her eyes again when she felt high squeals forced out of her with each rasp of Richard's punishing thumb. Mr. Lanner was still there; he had his cock out now, and was stroking it. His dog was busily inspecting the tree by the sidewalk, and spared no attention to his master. Mr. Lanner's face was slack, watching her raptly. Caitlin couldn't make out any of the details of his cock, except the motion of his hand on it, and she was obscurely disappointed.

Behind her, Richard withdrew his thumbs from both of her orifices, and stepped back from her.

She leaned against the door, panting.

He reached out to touch the back of her neck, stroking it, her hair, and her shoulders.

"If I told you to go out there right now, and fuck him," Richard said, "You would do it."

"What?" Caitlin asked, both horrified and fascinated by the prospect.

"You would, and that's enough for me to know. I need perfect obedience, Caitlin. I need your obedience."

Caitlin backed away from the door, pulling down her skirt and covering her breasts with her shirt. She couldn't turn to face Richard, not yet, but she could at least now close the door on Mr. Lanner. Mr. Lanner looked disappointed as the door swung shut.

"Perfect obedience?" Caitlin asked, still facing away from Richard. Really, there was no way she could ever look at him again. She was going to kick him out of her house, just as soon as she was certain Mr. Lanner was gone. "I don't really do perfect obedience, Richard. I think you should leave."

"You're hot, you're wet and you want to be fucked," Richard said. "Did you like the feeling of my thumb in your mouth? In your cunt?"

"Yes, it was all right," Caitlin said, trying to sound irritated, not panicked. "I think Mr. Lanner is gone. You can go now." She half-turned to face him, but still wouldn't look Richard in the eye.

Richard was on her instantly, bearing her down to the steps of the landing and holding her face in his hands. "Don't toy with me," he said tightly. "You want me, and pretending otherwise isn't going to make either of us any happier."

She stared at him, shocked by the controlled violence of the moment. He stared back, then slowly, deliberately, put his thumb to her lips again. She kept her mouth tightly closed.

"Open," he commanded, pressing the tip against her lips. She shook her head in the limited confines of his hands. "Open!" Reluctantly, she closed her eyes and parted her lips; Richard's thumb plunged inside, running it over her tongue again and again, until she responded in kind and caressed it softly with her tongue.

"Good," he whispered. Then, in a stern, hoarse voice: "Suck."

Shocked into action, she did so, bringing the thumb deep inside and caressing it with her tongue. His hands, still cradling her head, forced her up and down on the thumb, like it was a stubby little penis. Suddenly rebellious, she bit down on the thumb in order to stop the motion.

"Open," he grated, and the menace in his voice, so at odds with the gentle cradling of his hands, pushed her into action again. She sucked, hard, for a long moment.

Then, he was pulling the thumb away, pushing her back, and she sat up, refusing to open her eyes and look at him. She closed her mouth, though--until he said, in that same menacing voice: "Open."

She opened her mouth again immediately.

She felt him stand up, and heard his zipper; her first thought was that she should open her eyes, get up, and walk out. But the ache between her thighs had spread, encompassing her whole lower belly and her stinging nipples, and she could not move.

Richard's gentle hands cradled her head again, and pulled her to a sitting position and moving her face forward, towards the edge of the step. "Open," he said, and his voice brooked no disobedience. She opened her mouth, and smoothly, softly, the crown of his cock slipped between her lips.

The cockhead was velvet against her tongue, so much softer than his thumb, and she stroked it carefully. Her lips tingled with the friction as the cock continued into her mouth, sliding deeper. She tried to close the back of her mouth before the cock reached her throat, but he anticipated her. "Open," he said, as though it were no more than a gentle reminder.

She opened her throat to him, and took him all the way in, amazingly without gagging. The feeling of him on the back of her tongue was delicious, as though she were being fed something she had long hungered for. She gulped and sucked and licked with abandon, moving on his cock with increasing speed.

He did not abandon the steady, gentle pressure of the whole exercise, even when he began to thrust into her mouth. The cock hit the back of her throat with slow regularity, going no further than the very beginning of discomfort, and never into pain.

"Faster," came the order.

She went faster. She sucked until she forgot any other thoughts or sensations. All she had ever been was a receptacle for cocks--no, not just any cocks, Richard's cock. Whenever she considered stopping, she remembered the quiet but menacing order: "Open," and all resistance was gone. At one point, a thumb crept into her mouth alongside the cock, preceded by the word: "Open." And she opened, and sucked both cock and thumb, side by side.

Caitlin continued to bob on his cock blindly, refusing to open her eyes, even when his hands ruthlessly, efficiently stripped away her shirt and bra. Richard's thumb, still slightly dewy from the exploration of her mouth, circled a nipple, and she began to moan into his cock.

She heard an answering moan from above her, and at that moment, he pulled back from her, leaving her sucking air briefly and feeling like a fish out of water.

"Up," he said.

She frowned, but still refused to open her eyes, or even to speak.

"On all fours, on the stairs," he said. "Get up."

She got up, moving to her hands and knees, her knees a few stair-steps below her hands. Her breasts swung against the roughness of the stair carpeting, and she shuddered. "No," she whispered.

"No? No what?" he asked, and pulled her panties down around her knees.

"No, not like this, not our first time, not--"

"Doggie style?" he asked. "You don't want me to fuck you from behind the first time, Caitlin?" he asked.

She whimpered.

"You were hoping for something more romantic?" he asked, and she felt it then, felt his cock nudging apart her pussy lips.

She felt something like tears in her throat. "Yes," she said, and tried to open her legs for him.

"You keep those legs closed. I want that cunt tight when I fuck it for the first time."

She whimpered again.

"You don't like the word cunt, do you?" he asked, and thrust in. She cried out; she was wet, sopping wet, no doubt about it, but she felt every inch of him, of his penetrating cock, invading her, opening her.

"No," she said thickly, her voice nearly breaking into sobs. She tried to move her hips towards the stairs, to get away from him and his cock, but his fingers dug into her hips and pulled her to him. He fucked her with hard, long strokes, and the air was filled with the sounds of his cock driving in and out of her wetness. She cringed with embarrassment, tried to adjust herself to stop that sucking sound.

He reached for her hair, grabbed it, jerked her head back. "Stop fighting me," he growled. Her pussy lips tingled with the friction, just as her mouth had; she had a sudden, intense memory of his thumb inside her, pressing on her tongue, and from that memory alone, she almost came. Her whimpers turned to excited cries, and she began fucking back against him.

"Do you know why I'm doing this?" Richard asked.

"No," Caitlin said, moving her ass in slow circles against him as he pistoned into her.

"Good," he grunted, and reached for her clit. He brushed his fingertips against it once, twice, three times, each time drawing from her a shrill cry. She came on the fourth time.

"Ah! Ahhh! God, Richard, God!!!"

"Good," he said, sinking his shaft even deeper into her spasming pussy. "Good!" He began to ride her harder, pushing so deep in that she was almost unable to keep her body from sinking onto the stairs. He was close to coming. He had to be, because she couldn't hold them up much longer.

He held her closer now, wrapping his hands around her breasts and bringing his lips right next to her ear. She could hear his low, quiet gasps as he approached his climax.

"I'll never let you go again," he whispered. "I should have fucked you years ago."

"What?" she asked, startled. But his hand came up and his thumb was pressing against her lips again.

"Open!" he demanded. His strokes grew more regular and somewhat slower, and she realized he was deliberately holding back for the moment.

She opened her mouth for him and took the thumb inside, and he began to finger-fuck her mouth again. Behind her, he rode her pussy harder and harder, until his thumb fell out of her mouth, and she felt him once again building towards his orgasm, moving less regularly against her.

"Don't come in me!" she said. "I'm not on the pill!"

"You're mine," he said fiercely, "And I'll fuck you and fill you every day if I have to, to prove it. Open!"

"I'm open!" she cried. "God, Richard, I'm open for you!"

He drove into her with relentless fury, and pumped her full of cum, shuddering in her ear as he did so.

She felt tears on her cheeks, hot as the semen that was now dripping from her pussy. He withdrew from her.

She turned over, taking the pressure of her knees, closed her legs and stared at him.

"What the hell, Richard?"

"A little late to be asking that," he said, tucking his cock back into his pants and zipping up. "Go upstairs, get on the bed and open yourself for me."

"Wh--what?" she asked, bewildered. "What now?"

"Do it," he ordered her ruthlessly, and when she did not immediately comply, he picked her up, carried to her bed, where he pushed her down, face first onto the bed, and buried his lips in her cunt, cleaning out the crevices he had filled with his cum, licking her clit until she moaned and rolled her hips against him.

Before she could come, however, she felt her legs being spread again, and felt Roger feed his cock into her once more. "Ah, God," she groaned, as Richard pulled her back onto his cock. "From behind, again?"

"You think you deserve something else, after your insubordination?" Richard asked mildly. But he raised her hips and reached around, rubbing at her clit. "Open up and take it. And get used to my cock. It's going to be fucking you every night from now on."

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, Richard, anything you say."

"Fuck back on me," he ordered.

"Yes!"

"Fuck back. Move those hips. Open to me."

"I'm open! Yes! Fuck! Yes!" She moaned and thrust two fingers into her mouth, sucking on them, pretending that they were Richard's thumb, Richard's cock, anything.