The Misogynist Ch. 05

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Misguided Cheryl on a terrible trail of degradation.
8.8k words
4.26
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Part 5 of the 9 part series

Updated 10/05/2022
Created 08/13/2010
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carvohi
carvohi
2,532 Followers

Cheryl and Turner were out back sitting beside Turner's pool. Cheryl was wearing a too tightly fitting two piece that Turner insisted she buy. He was dressed in a casual pair of khakis, light green polo shirt, and loafers. As usual they'd spent the night at Turners, and since Cheryl was off on Saturday's this was a good time for the two of them to just talk and compare notes.

Turner had been thinking about a number of things that he believed would expedite his chances at winning the bet he secretly had arranged with some other men. He wanted to present his ideas in ways that would arouse the least suspicion, and increase the speed at which the bet could be won. He had until Labor Day to win, but it was already August. He was still pretty confident in his ability to manipulate what Cheryl thought, but in some ways her strict upbringing was, even now, a retardant. He'd thought seriously about secretly filming her having sex and using the footage as a wedge, but he still wanted to try another way first.

Looking over at her he already saw how pervasive in some ways his influence had become. He had gained a profound influence over the style and kinds of clothes she wore. For one thing the two piece she was wearing that very afternoon was way too small. He'd made her buy several white swimsuits a few days earlier, saying they better exhibited her tan. He really made her buy them because when they were wet they were almost completely transparent. Cheryl was bothered by the transparency, but had agreed. He knew it was because she was so enamored of him and of his assurances that she'd never have to wear them when they had company. Her breasts were pouring out of the top and oozing from the bottom at the same time. Her panties were clearly too tight in the crotch, if one looked at all they could see the cleft between her pussy lips Her camel toe as some people described it, was on display for all to see.

Her regular clothing had undergone a transformation as well. Most of her blouses and dresses plunged deeply down the front usually giving much more than just a glimpse of cleavage.

Bras had become a thing of the past. Lately he had her in form fitting chemises and camisoles that held her breasts loosely in place but still permitted significant movement. The soft textured material also had the affect of abrading her nipples inducing their almost constant protrusion. On days when the weather was cooler or in the evenings as the sun went down she was a sight to behold. It left her in a state of almost constant self-consciousness, a mood that always increase her suggestibility..

He'd gotten her out of the habit of wearing panties too, except in the most extreme situations, and those extreme circumstances had recently been reduced to only times when her minis were so short the absence of panties would have meant an eyeful for any passerby. He loved leaning his hand over and fondling her pussy when they drove down the street. She never failed to blush.

Cheryl's make up had undergone a Turner directed transformation as well. The discreet pinks and blues had been replaced by harsher and cheaper looking hues. She wore much too much mascara, and her eyelashes were always artificially enhanced. Once when they were standing in line to get tickets for some show or another he deliberately he took his fingers and smeared her lipstick. She had to stand there, in line, all smudged. She was mortified.

Turner's next objectives involved some body modifications. He wanted her to have a tattoo with his name on her ass, and he was looking for ways to get her to have her nipples and pussy pierced. He thought he could get her to do it if he played his cards right.

His prime objective, however, was, and had always been to get her in bed with another man. He believed today was the day he'd go in that direction. He had a plan. It had been one he'd used in college to get a girl to sleep with Fraternity Brothers. He believed Cheryl was a ripe candidate for this. He reflected on it as they relaxed by the pool.

"It sure has been a beautiful day hasn't it?"

Cheryl answered. "I love it out here by the pool."

"You're beautiful in that suit. It accentuates your dark tan, and the shape of your magnificent body." Even after several weeks Turner saw how his slightest compliments inspired a rash of red. He could get her to blush at the drop of a hat.

"Turner I should be thinking about getting home. I do have to put in some hours tomorrow at the bookstore."

"Let me take you home." He paused; this was the time to ease into the new thing. "Cheryl have I told you about my cousin Mike?"

"No I don't believe you have. Who's your cousin Mike?"

"Mike is a younger cousin who was married until just a few weeks ago."

"What happened to Mike?" She was always the curious type. To Cheryl someone who had stopped being married, that might mean anything.

"Well Mike married his high school sweetheart. She worked while he went to college, and once he graduated he worked to put her through. It was a marriage made in heaven, and after both had earned their degrees they squeezed out a couple of puppies. Everything had been going fine until about a year ago."

Turner looked over and saw Cheryl was all ears. "Then they found out about his wife. Carol had cervical cancer. Everything stopped for the both of them." From there Turner went on, in great and grisly detail as he discussed the chemotherapy, the radiation treatments, the loss of her long golden hair, her inexorable weight loss, the destruction of her personality, her increasing dependence on the love and nurturing of her devoted husband, and her ultimate slip into a comatose state. "She put up a good fight, but you know how it is. She died. Mike hasn't been the same."

"That's a shame." Cheryl, being the empathetic type, was genuinely saddened.

Turner started going into Mike's story, the quest for the right doctors, the best treatments, his struggle to put up a good front in the face of ultimate and final catastrophe, and how in the end her death meant his as well. "Yeah, now he just stays at home. He has a nanny for the kids, and all he does is sit around and mope, cry, and rant at God."

"What? Can't you do anything to help? He shouldn't just sit around."

"I thought of a lot of things, and I've tried to help him. He's just not into anything. He wants to die."

"That's such a shame."

"He likes you though. He's seen you at the bookstore, and when I told him I was dating you. He talked about the natural goodness he saw in you, and how much you reminded him of her. You know, your sweetness and all like that."

"Like that what?"

"Well you are a warm caring person Cheryl. You do care about other people. You wouldn't do what you do if you weren't."

Cheryl was glad Turner connected her feelings with her real job as a teacher of disadvantaged children. That's how she felt. "It's a shame we can't find someone for him. I mean someone who might at least listen."

"That's why I brought him up Cheryl." Turner gave her one of his serious, sincere, concerned looks. "I thought maybe you could go out with him." He saw her look, and it was a little askance. "I don't mean an official date. I mean just as someone who might lend a sympathetic ear."

"You mean like an apostle of goodwill."

"Yes. But I thought better of it. It would never work."

"Well why not?" She asked.

"First I know you would never do it, and second I don't think you should."

"If you think I could be of help Turner, I'd be willing at least to give it a try."

"Come on Cheryl. That's asking too much."

"No it's not. It sounds like he could use a shoulder."

"I don't know Cheryl."

"Why don't you call him?"

"Well." He hesitated. "I guess I could. You sure you wouldn't be offended?"

"No."

"You wouldn't change your mind?"

"No."

"You wouldn't get mad if he wanted to take you someplace expensive?"

"Now you're getting silly. Go ahead and call him. If he agrees, I'll go out with him."

Turner reached over to the table and picked up his cell phone, holding up one finger. "I'll be just a minute." He dialed the number, and after a few short rings he heard a voice on the other end. Cheryl listened to Turner as he talked to his cousin.

"Hello Mike?" Pause. "Yeah this is Turner." Pause. "I was wondering. Are you doing anything tonight?" Pause. "No. You remember the girl who works at the bookstore? She said she'd like to go out with you." Pause. "She knows." Pause "Believe me it's not pity, at least not exactly." Pause. "Yeah, she's right here." Pause. Cheryl he said he wants to talk to you." Turner handed Cheryl the phone. He listened while Cheryl talked to his cousin.

"Hello is this Mike?" Pause. "Yes. Turner told me how unhappy you are. I'm sorry about your wife." Pause. "Would you like to talk about it?" Pause. "Turner knows how you feel. If I could help, I'd like to." Pause. Cheryl could hear his voice quiver on the other end of the line. "Let's get together and talk tonight." Pause. "Mike you won't be in the way." Pause. "Are you familiar with the Holiday Inn downtown?" Pause. "Say maybe two hours?" Pause. "Yes, I'll see you there." Cheryl hung up the phone.

Cheryl had liked the sound of Mike's voice, and she liked the things he said. She could tell this was a person, a human being in trouble. She had to help. "Turner Do you mind if I go see him tonight?"

Turner answered. "I don't mind Cheryl, but only if you think it's the right thing to do."

As soon as Cheryl left Turner was on the phone again. This time it was Martin. He got him on the line. "Hey Martin. Guess what?"

Shit thought Martin another Turner interruption. "OK What?"

Cheryl's on her way to the Holiday Inn. Old Mike going to bag her tonight. Use the old dead wife story." Turner hung up. "Ha Ha. Ha Ha." He'd pulled a fast one on Martin.

Cheryl met Mike at the same Holiday Inn where she'd surrendered her virginity a few weeks before. When Cheryl got to the restaurant Mike was already there, sitting in a booth not too distant from where she and Turner had met earlier. As soon as she entered Mike stood up and gave her a tremulous wave. She went right over.

The man helped Cheryl get seated, and went to the bar to get two cokes. Before returning to the booth he took an eye dropper and squeezed two droplets of a mild narcotic in the the girl's drink. It was the first of two chemicals he intended to give her. This one tended to lower inhibitions and increase a person's susceptibility to suggestion. Mild and tasteless, it could only help. He returned to the booth,

Taking a sip from his drink Mike spoke first. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Cheryl swirled her straw in her drink, sipped some and answered. "Turner told me how desolate you've been. It's the least one person can do for another."

"You're so good Cheryl. I've felt so alone. You can't imagine."

Cheryl could imagine his loneliness. Taking another sip of coke she reflected on how she'd spent the better part of her life an outsider looking in at other peoples' happiness. She immediately saw the pain and loneliness on his face. He looked about as forlorn as any man could. If she could assuage his unhappiness even a little it would be a blessing for both of them. "Being alone isn't easy. Especially, I imagine, after you've shared so much with another person."

He wrinkled his face slightly like he was about to cry. "You have a kind face Cheryl. You're a kind person." He had another sip of his coke.

"Well tell me about yourself. I want to get to know you." She took another sip of her drink.

For the next several minutes Mike talked extensively about himself, his career, his deceased wife, their children, and what their plans and been. He talked at length about the more personal details of their lives together. He talked about their intimacy, the way he and she would cuddle, hold each others hands, share tender moments, how they'd lay in bed together just holding each other. His eyes moistened with unspent tears.

He talked about their last weeks, her deterioration, her inability to perform sexually, and how they just held each other. He talked about how they couldn't look beyond the immediate. They'd planned so much together, and all the things they'd hoped to do had to lay silently, as though on a table beside them, unbidden and undone.

He talked sadly and longingly about how much he missed her womanly warmth and affection. He really emphasized the private moments they shared, the love, the caring the joy, and now the bitter emptiness.

Cheryl listened with rapt attention. She could tell Mike had been suffering. She wished there was something she could do. She even told him. "I wish there was something I could do."

Mike's eyes started dripping the tears he'd refused to shed all those weeks. He reached across the table and held her two hands. "You're so good Cheryl. You're such an angel."

Cheryl was deeply moved, but was afraid it was getting too late, but her feelings for Mike and his special circumstances were so impelling. "Mike I have to go home. I have to work tomorrow."

He held her hands even more tightly. "Don't go. Don't leave me tonight. Please stay with me. I need to be with someone tonight. I can't be alone. Not tonight."

Cheryl was so moved she almost cried herself. "I just can't stay with you. I have my responsibilities, and there's Turner."

He crushed her hands in his. "Turner wouldn't care. He'd understand." He was clinging to her hands. "Cheryl I can't be alone tonight."

"What do you want me to do?" She didn't know what else to say.

"Cheryl." He paused as though he were about to break down. "I." There was another lapse. "Can I just hold you? I mean, let me sit beside you. It would mean. I might just need to hold on to someone. Just for a little while. I don't know if I can make it."

Cheryl was torn. Doing what Mike was suggesting was akin to going to bed with another man. It could be seen as an act of betrayal. He was asking a lot, but she could see he was so desperate. "I don't know Mike." She sipped her coke again.

Mike implored. "At least just stay a while longer."

Cheryl looked at Mike. She had to call Turner. "Mike, would you excuse me a moment?"

Mike looked terrified. "You won't go?"

"No, just give me a minute."

Cheryl stepped away to the ladies room and called Turner on her cell. "Turner, I'm afraid to leave Mike alone. I'm going to spend some time with him this evening. Is that all right with you?" On the other end of the line Turner gave his assent.

As Cheryl dialogued with Turner about spending some additional time with Mike, he was quietly taking an eye dropper and introducing the second chemical in Cheryl's coke, a newer milder form of one of the many date rape drugs that had found their way on the black market but one that was also considered something of a sexual stimulant. This chemical had all the right qualities, with just minimal side affects.

Cheryl returned to the table. "Is there someplace we could go and talk some more?" She sipped more of her coke.

Mike took another sip of his coke. "We could get a room right here."

Cheryl didn't want to go that far. Sipping at her coke again she added. "No. I don't think we should."

He let her hands go. Took another sip of his coke, held his head in his hands for a second, and wiped the tears from his face. "I'm sorry."

Cheryl was beaten. She finished her coke. She saw this man was desperate beyond all measure. She sensed his growing ennui. His was a desperation that might lead to something even more drastic than just continued loneliness or drunkenness. He was acting positively suicidal. "We could go upstairs and talk some more. Maybe holds hands on the sofa."

He grabbed her hands again. He was visibly shaking. "Cheryl."

They went to the counter and ordered a room together. Cheryl was so considerate she even offered to pay, but Mike insisted. They went upstairs to the sixth floor to one of the more moderately luxurious suites.

The events that followed were all too predictable. Mike and Cheryl held hands, they held each other. They lay on the sofa. One soft kiss led to another, then another, then her blouse was off, his shirt was gone, her skirt, his pants, their shoes.

Into the bedroom he carried her. They kissed, cried, and kissed some more. Mike was gentle. He was careful, he was slow. Cheryl never reached any personal pinnacles, but she had the pleasure of knowing she'd restored a wonderful man to some level of sanity if only for a little while.

They redressed, and left together. He swore his love, and vowed she had his complete confidence. Turner would never know. He respected and cared for her too much. He begged her to call him if she and Turner ever separated. She would always have his undying devotion. He would never forget what she'd done for him.

She was a little bleary eyed, a little wobbly, when she got in her car and drove home. Any feelings of guilt were washed away by the good deed she had done. She hated to think about it exactly, but she had used her body in a sexual way to bring warmth and comfort to another human being. Some might consider that amoral, but that night Cheryl felt like Mother Teresa.

On the way home she hiked her dress up around her waist and used her fingers to massage her pussy. She wondered what was wrong with her. Now she'd been with two men, and that thrilling special thing she'd read about still hadn't occurred. She'd learned to like the feeling of a man's thing inside her, but something was still missing.

As Cheryl left the hotel parking garage Mike opened his cell phone and punched in the number of his friend. "Hello Turner. All I've got to say is! Great piece of ass! Giving her the line about the dead wife was all gravy. I'll mail you a check in the morning. Thanks buddy." On the other end of the line there was a soft chuckle.

Turner decided he had another call to make too. He punched in Martin's cell number, but got no response. He remembered Martin was in another city. He remembered the hotel his friend always used when in that town. He called the hotel desk. No, they told him that person had checked out just a few hours before.

Turner chuckled and said out loud to no one in particular. "That dumb son of a bitch cut his business meeting short so he could rush home and save the stupid bitch." He wondered who was more stupid, Martin or Cheryl. He was getting a hard on thinking about it. He went in on the bed and masturbated.

The next afternoon when Cheryl got off from work Turner wasn't anywhere to be found. He'd promised to stop by once she got off. She called his cell.

Turner picked up his cell phone. "Hello."

"Turner why aren't you here?"

"Oh, it's you. Why should I be?"

Cheryl was perplexed. "Why shouldn't you be?"

"Tell me Cheryl. Why should I have anything to do with you after what you did?"

Cheryl was quiet on the other end of the call. He knew. Somehow he knew. Mike had promised. She knew he hadn't gone back on his word. How did he find out? "What do you mean?" She decided to play dumb.

"Do you think Mike wouldn't call me and tell me everything?" He couldn't wait to spill his guts. How wonderful you were. How great the sex was." Turner waited a second for effect. "What are you Cheryl? You say you love me and then fuck somebody else."

"It wasn't like that Turner. He needed someone. He was so pathetic. I couldn't abandon him."

"So you decided to abandon me!"

"No I love you!"

"Then what about good old Mike? You don't love Mike but you fucked him."

"It wasn't that way. It wasn't that way at all!"

Turner knew what to say next. "I don't know Cheryl. I don't like this."

Cheryl was in a panic. She didn't want to lose him. "Tell me what to do! Turner I'll do anything. What do you want me to do?"

carvohi
carvohi
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