The Cock Clock Ch. 06

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As Heather sat there in shock, a younger man walked in. He was obviously startled to see her sitting there, blouse open, and crying. As he walked closer, she stood up and tried to hold her blouse closed. His hands went up and ripped her bra from her torso. Then he pulled her skirt down. He dropped to his knees, grabbing her ass and thrusting his face into her crotch. She picked up a bowl from the end table and brought it down on his head. He crumbled into fetal position, still moving. At least he wasn't dead. Heather came running towards me, actually towards the sliding doors. She pushed them open and ran across the grass, past my hiding spot. And she kept running, holding her breasts in one arm.

I couldn't have my future pretend-wife running through the neighborhood half naked, could I? Besides, if I didn't catch up, I wouldn't have a chase to fuck her and fix this. I ran to my Dodge and drove in her direction. It took very little time to catch-up, her being barefoot. I drove alongside and slowed. I rolled down the passenger window. "Heather!"

She kept running.

"Heather, come here."

She glanced in my direction, stubbed her foot on something, tripped and fell. I pulled over, jumped out and helped her to her feet. She collapsed against me, sobbing.

"It'll be all right. Come with me."

She looked up. Her face was familiar but fuller. "I'm not supposed to go anywhere with strangers."

What could I tell her, that I was her future pretend-husband? That didn't make sense to me, and I'd lived it. "But you need help."

She glanced back in the direction from which she'd come. "You're not taking me back there, are you?"

"Oh no! I'll keep you safe until we can figure this out."

I heard shouts. Dad and brother, I presumed, were running in our direction. Their pursuit motivated Heather to accept my offer. She ran for the van, tits flailing. I ran to the other side. I'll admit, I fumbled to start the car with those big tits wobbling on her chest. "Go!" she shouted as she pulled her blouse closed.

Evidently I remembered the route to the King Motel, whose sign flashed, "Every guest is a King." I pulled the key from my pocket. Two twenty seven. I scanned the room numbers as I drove slowly and found a parking space in the right area. I came around to the passenger door and let Heather out. She followed me at a distance until we got to the stairs, where I let her go first. Yeah, I wanted to watch her pantied ass and naked legs as she ascended. God, her legs were thick and her thighs meaty. She followed the signs that led to my room. I opened the door and let her in first. I guessed that every guest was a king because the room had a king bed. Heather and I would have to share: the bathroom, the bed, everything. And if I were lucky, she'd share my cock. But there was much work to do. First I had to repair this young woman's psyche. I sat in the side chair, leaving her the bed.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"My name is Charlie. I saw you running, half dressed, and figured you were in trouble."

"So you're some kind of hero? Or just a horny old man?"

Like her father? "I'm no hero. But I'll help if you let me."

She wiped remnant moisture from her eye. No reply.

"What happened back there? Did someone attack you?"

"Yes," she whimpered. "It was terrible."

"Why don't you take a nice hot shower? It'll make you feel better. Okay?"

She nodded and went to the bathroom. I heard the water running. One thought I had was to join her in the shower. Nah, too forward and pushy. The water stopped. "Charlie?"

"Yes?"

"These towels aren't very big. They don't cover, well, they don't cover me."

That was fine with me, but I didn't want her having any more qualms about my intentions. "I'll get some more." Down the way from my room was an open housekeeper's room. I grabbed a handful of towels; all medium sized, and came back to my room. After I tied a few of them together, I handed them to Heather through a partially open bathroom door. I didn't even try to sneak a peek at her naked body.

Heather came out wearing one string of towels on top and another below. Gaps between the towels showed bits of naked skin, quite erotic from my perspective. Quite annoying from hers, given her expression. "Didn't they have any bigger ones?"

My bigger one was already hard from the titillation. "Nope. This is the best I could do. So, you want to tell me what happened?"

She took a deep breath, which widened the gaps between the towels. A bit of nipple showed and then retreated as she exhaled. "My girlfriends were talking, see, about having, you know, sex. And one of them said that her mother found some man to be her first sex partner. Gross, huh? Doing it with a stranger?"

"Oh, it must have been terrible. What did your classmate say?"

"I couldn't believe her. She said he was tender and loving, and she had an orgasm and everything. I still don't believe her. Anyway, I came home and told my dad the story."

"Why not your mother?" Who, I expected, would have been a more proper audience.

"She doesn't live with us anymore. It's just me, Daddy and Warren."

Her brother, I assumed. "So what did he say?"

"Nothing, At least at that moment. But I guess he got it in his mind that he could do for me what the stranger did for Angie."

Angie? My first fuck and last pretend wife Angie? That's her friend who was first fucked by a stranger - me? "You're kidding!"

"Nope. He started groping me, telling me what a nice body I have. Lies, just to feel me up. And worse, if I'd let him."

"But you do have a nice body." Just a bit larger than the last time I'd seen her.

"Come on. You're just like my father. Think if you butter me up, I'll get all gushy and let you do stuff to me. Well, no way." She crossed her arms over her chest. The towels twisted and exposed even more of her tits. "Oops." She dropped her arms but the damage had been done. "I almost expected Daddy to ask me for money, like Angie's mom paid to her lover."

"I didn't get paid!" Shit! Had I said that out loud?

Heather's eyes opened wide. "What do you mean, you? You had sex with Angie? Oh my God! What were you really doing near my house? Did someone send you?"

"No one sent me. I was there because - I was worried about you. I'd heard things - " I couldn't tell her that she herself had mentioned the incident with her father to our pretend daughter "from people close to you that things weren't going well at home. That maybe your father would not behave well." That was all I could say and not sound like an idiot.

Heather studied her hands. "So you were trying to protect me from him? And Warren?"

"Did your father send Warren in, to finish the job that he started?" It was an educated guess.

"Exactly! How did you know?"

"I was a horny young man once myself."

"Before you became a sexual therapist for young women?" She smiled.

At least her sense of humor hadn't been violated. "Yeah, a long time before."

Heather stood up. "Well, I guess I'd better cooperate with my therapist. So what do I do now?"

I was surprised at the quick change of demeanor. Could I trust it? I didn't want my head clobbered by a lamp. Maybe the fact that I'd done her friend made sex with me acceptable. I wanted to tell her to strip off the towels and lay back on the bed, legs spread. But I didn't. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to. But I would like to kiss you, if that's all right." I expected that with a few passionate kisses, she'd be hot to trot. Also a guess, but likely.

Heather let me take her in my arms. I had handfuls of bare skin on her back and shoulder. Our kiss was short, so I went back for an encore. That one was a winner; her mouth open as if I'd planned it. And her hands weren't idle.

However, given how heavy she was, I had a hard time getting hard enough. Oh sure, rubbing her naked flesh was quite erotic, but every time I noticed the lack of waist and extra plumpness in her arms and legs, it was like a splash of cold water on my hormones. I decided that the best way to handle this was by using the fantasy of Heather as a toned adult while I fucked the real Heather in my motel room. I positioned her, leaning onto the bed, her legs spread. I dropped my pants and jockeys, stroked my cock a few times for good measure and moved up behind her. "This is doggie style, one of the basic positions. It gives the man better access, and your first time will be easier this way." It was all bullshit. I lifted the towel that covered her ass. God, her buttocks were huge, as big as her breasts. "I'm going to position myself right behind your pussy and your labia-" I closed my eyes and thought of my pretend wife version of Heather, older but in much better shape. "-And go in slowly." The younger Heather was firm, and her clenching her lower muscles didn't help at all. "You need to relax."

"I can't relax in this position. Maybe if I could just lie down-"

"No!" I'd said it too loudly and with a mean tone. But I couldn't think about climbing aboard her and stay stiff. First time that had ever happened. I reached around and groped her tits, feeling the familiar flesh. The older Heather must have toned them too, because the young Heather's tits were more spongy. My cock was hard enough to penetrate and make a few inches of progress. "Good. That's fine."

Just as I'd done with her older self, I began to rock back and forth. The friction was magnificent, and my cock responded by getting harder and a bit longer. And the feelings were exquisite. So I picked the pace. And Heather, the current one being flicked, seemed to enjoy the physical attention. Soon, I was pounding her pussy, giving her the full length over and over.

"You're fucking me, you really are."

"Yes, dear, and I'm not going to stop."

"Don't! Oh God, don't stop. I want you to make me feel everything."

I didn't know if my cock was that talented, but I was up for getting her rocks off as well as mine. I held onto her sides and slammed my cock home, balls deep, all while imagining my previous pretend wife. "How is it?"

"Glorious! Absolutely glorious! You're going to give me an orgasm. I can feel it starting. It's like I'm going to piss or something. But I know it's an orgasm. That's what it's supposed to feel like, right?"

I didn't know the feeling from a woman's perspective. And a man coming wasn't like pissing. "Hang on for a big finish."

"Oh, God, here it comes!"

Urine sprayed from between her thighs, the acid smell soiling the rug. I pulled out and helped her stand up. "Heather, dear, why don't you go to the bathroom?"

"Oh God. I'm so sorry. I thought - I mean, it was supposed to - oh, shit, I fucked everything up!"

I threw a few towels on the floor and used another to wipe off the dresser that had taken a reflected spray.

Heather was still in the bathroom, obviously embarrassed. I called out, "I'm going to go out to the car for something." The something was fresh air. I started down the stairs, stepped on an untied shoelace, and tumbled down the metal and concrete steps.

--

It ached to move. I lifted my head. I was in a bedroom I'd never been in before. The bed was a twin, with its mate a few feet away. On the end table between the beds, my silver cock clock, staring at me. I pulled off the covers and threw on the biggest robe in the closet. There was no downstairs. This was a ranch house with a bedroom wing. I walked the hallway away from the bathroom at the end of the hall, expecting the rest of the house. The living and dining rooms were filled with old-fashioned furniture from the eighties. Around the corner, I found the kitchen. In a matching bathrobe stood a woman I'd never seen before in my entire life. My new pretend wife, a stranger, had sizzling skillets and boiling pots on the stove.

"Hi, dear," I muttered, "what's cooking?"

---

Thanks to Scalia for editing.

* * * * * * * * * *

### An Original H M Tale ###

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Copyright (c) 2012, HarveyMarcus. All Rights Reserved.

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