The Promise

"Get ready, babe," he whispers, his words stoking the fire burning in me to a white heat.

"Oh yes, put it in, put that hard cock of yours up my cunt, now, please put it in now. I want it now, please." The words of encouragement spill from my lips, but my mind fails to register what he is really saying to me. I begin to pant, my sobs reverberating over the sounds of the hissing water in the small stall. His fingers slip from my holes and briefly a cooling wisp of humid air sneaks in my most sensitive channels before the muscles can close the gaping holes.

John’s hands grasp the tight cheeks of my ass in an iron grip and his fingers sink through the sparse flesh to latch onto the bones. I feel the bulbous head of his enflamed cock slide down the crack of my ass. Deftly, I maneuver my feet once again and cant my hips up so he can slip the rock hard cock up into my pussy.

Before it can register on my agitated brain, the spongy head of his cock is lodged in the entrance to my ass. The muscles, relaxed and limp from the gentle massage of his thumb, are in no condition to resist. With a gentle pop that I feel more than hear, the head of his cock slips past the muscular barrier and starts to worm its way deep into my bowel.

"No John, please, no, take it out, please take it out." I scream over the rushing water. The searing pain shoots up my spine to my brain. "You’ll hurt me, you’re too big. Oh stop please stop, please. I can’t take it."

My pleas fall on deaf ears. The iron bar that is his cock continues inexorably to worm its way up my virgin back channel. The muscles bear down, trying to expel the invader, but to no avail. His hands grasp my hips like the talons of an eagle grasping its prey, refusing to relinquish its hold until all resistance is gone. Defenseless, I am impaled on his rigid cock.

John straightens his back and his legs lock in place and, impaled on his iron rod, my tiny body is lifted from the wet floor, as my legs wildly search for purchase. Circling my waist with his left arm he uses his right to rip the shower curtain from its moorings. Terrified, my anal muscles bear down, fearful that if they let go he will rip my insides apart as he tears his cock from my ass.

"Please, please John, take it out. It hurts, oh God, it hurts. I’m going to start to bleed. Oh, God, please take it out before you really hurt me." Again my words of anguish have no impact. Lost in his own sexual frenzy, he gives no sign that he has heard me.

Soaking wet and covered in soapsuds, he carries me, suspended from his cock, out of the bathroom as my arms and legs flail away, and seeking a purchase somewhere, anywhere. The soles of my feet dance in the air like a hanged man searching, searching for a purchase but finding nothing. A tear cascades down my cheek as the pain and the humiliation compete for my attention. My anal muscles clamp down in one last desperate effort to prevent me from voiding myself onto the carpet. "Please John, please take it out, it hurts so bad, please."

Again my faint cries bounce off the bedroom walls, seemingly unheard by any other human being. Arms and legs flailing, I can find no purchase to use to try and tear myself off his ravaging cock, which uses every movement by me to its advantage, to further slide into my abused anal opening.

John’s knees hit the edge of the mattress and, as he falls forward, I am forced to abandon my efforts to escape as I throw out my arms to break my fall, face down on the tumbled sheets. As he nestles his face once more into the crook of my neck, his rough whiskers scraping the tender skin, I hear him, hoarse with arousal, say, "Yes, oh yes," as he worms the last inch into my tortured opening. His balls, charged with yet another load of his seed, come to rest deep in my narrow crack. He begins to move, stroking, sliding, ever so slightly working to expand, to lubricate the tight channel. My fingers clutch the sheets and my toes spread, digging into the carpet, seeking purchase somehow to help me escape the driving rod in my rear.

The effort is wasted as he continues to worm away, ignoring my futile efforts. Again his voice penetrates my brain over the pain. "Relax, Peggy, accept it, welcome it, it is a taste of the future. Let your muscles relax, will them to relax or I really will hurt you."

My mind finally accepts the inevitable and I consciously force my eyes shut, willing my abused muscles to relax, to accept what is taking place. Strangely it helps. The pain subsides and the need to void my bowel passes. I am left with a feeling of being stuffed, totally stuffed by a pulsating rod extending deep into my belly. The pain dissipates as I give up the struggle.

John senses my surrender. His left hand releases its grip and slides under my belly and the finger starts to play with my love bud once again. Freed from the struggle and accepting the inevitable, I start to feel that special tingling once again. It seems so impossible but it is there, growing as the muscles relax and accept the alien intrusion on their hitherto private space.

John starts to move, the strokes longer and a little more quick. He withdraws each time until the head of his cock is just inside the tight anal ring. As my muscles grasp at it, trying to suck it back in, he stops and starts to slide back up the chute. Each time he pushes it a little harder, a little faster, up the passage that has never experienced penetration before. Leaning over my shoulder he says, "It feels good, doesn’t it, Peggy? Never thought you would ever have 8 inches of man cock rammed up your tight little ass, did you? All the times you coyly said no, it’ll hurt too much, it’s too big, it won’t fit, you thought I had forgotten, didn’t you?"

Each lewd word is accompanied by a twitch of his rigid cock, each phrase with a gentle jab up my anal canal. He is a man I no longer know his words and his actions at the same time both exciting and frightening.

"How deep do you think I can work my cock in your ass, Peggy? Five inches, do you think I can work it up five inches?" John punctuates his question with another jab. "Maybe further, think I could do 6 inches? Think you could take 6 inches, Peggy, if I really worked at it?" Each question is punctuated by another jab as his steel hard cock mercilessly drives up the virgin canal.

"What do you think, Peggy? Cat got your tongue? I can’t hear you. There is nobody here to hear you whimper and cry today. Just you and me, Peggy, and my cock up your tight little ass." Another jab, harder and deeper than the others, adds an exclamation point to his words. "What’s the matter, the cat still got your tongue?"

My silence seems to goad him, to drive him to renew his efforts to skewer me on his rod to the very hilt. I can feel his cock flexing, pulsing deep in my bowel. Tear flow down my cheeks to soak into the already damp sheets but they are no longer tears of physical agony. God, how it hurt going into my tight, narrow channel. Now the muscles are relaxing, accepting his invasion, grasping, even welcoming it, into my moist, dark cavern.

As the muscles relax accepting him into me, the lump in my throat disappears and for the first time in what seems like hours my voice returns. "God, John, it feels so different," I say, turning my head to look into the gloom over my shoulder. "It hurt so bad when you put it in but the burning is going away, it’s starting to feel…" But the sentence is never completed as he interrupts.

"How is it starting to feel, Peggy," he asks as he gives his hard cock another twitch, worming it in another fraction of an inch. It feels like it is pushing at my bellybutton, trying to escape. "Is it starting to feel good, Peggy, is it? Tell me, do you like to get fucked in the ass? Would you like me to take you this way more often? Just like a big Brahma bull takes a cow he fancies, no fuss, no muss, just pure animalistic screwing?"

The sheer lewdness of his comments, whispered in my ear for only me to hear, sends a shiver down my spine. I fail to answer, not because I am searching for words, but rather because I am reluctant to admit how good it is starting to feel. Mortified, suspended on his cock, I bury my face in the sheets to hide my humiliation. I could never admit, even to John, what a turn on it is to be dominated, totally dominated by him. The pain, the humiliation, of being powerless, of being fucked by the male animal, is a turn on the likes of which I have never experienced before.

My innate caution begins to shed like a molting snake as the sensations of what is taking place drive the receding pain aside. The muscles in my rectum relax even further as I welcome him in me. His words, his actions drive me to speak. "Yes, fuck me in the ass. I want to feel you deep in me, now. Drive it into me now, you pervert. Drive it deeper into me now, John."

The unexpected words of encouragement act like a slap in the face to him. As impossible as it seems, his cock stiffens further, expanding, threatening to tear me apart. His fingers dig deeper into my hips, pulling him in tighter, deeper. His slow strokes into my rectum increase their tempo. As any female animal, I can feel his arousal.

"It feels good, doesn’t it, Peggy? Eight inches of rock-hard man cock deep in your ass. Can you feel it every time I drive it into you? Can you feel it?" The comments are accompanied by deep, penetrating, gut-wrenching jabs, each threatening to tear me apart.

My inhibitions and my caution are gone as I slip into this strangely erotic act. "Oh God, yes, I feel it. It’s good, oh so good. Stop talking and start fucking me now, John."

John leans over my shoulder, whispering in my ear, wheedling, encouraging, and urging me on. "It’s time to come, Peggy. I want you to grasp me with your muscles, suck me in, and milk me. Can you do that? Can you fuck me back?"

"Yes, oh yes, yes, yes," I scream at the top of my lungs. He thrusts into me in earnest now, pumping like a piston in a well-oiled machine, which has gone out of control. I can feel the droplets of his sweat splashing onto my naked back.

"I’m almost there, Peggy, can you feel it, I am going to come deep in your ass, I can’t hold it any longer." His finger starts to stroke in and out of my pussy at a feverish pace, the callused finger roughly scraping at my engorged bud. He stops sliding his finger further up and before I realize it the tip of his finger, buried in the wet depths of my pussy, is massaging the tip of his inflamed cock through the anal membrane.

Screaming incoherently, "Oh, oh my God," my body goes rigid as wave after wave of my climax courses through every nerve ending in my body. As I fall on the bed, my muscles totally abandon me, I can feel his cock convulsing and his seed bathing the inflamed walls of my rectum with its warm, soothing elixir of life.

John collapses on my back, pinning me to the soiled sheets. Neither of us has the energy to move. Two physically exhausted people lay helpless, gasping for air. The harsh, rasping sounds of our deep gasps reflect off the silent walls. The sun is just beginning to peek through the edges of the curtains but we are both drained of all energy. His cock deflates and slips out of my tortured asshole to hang limply along his thigh. My anal muscles, too stretched to respond quickly to seal the entrance, let the cool breeze from the early morning off the ocean play across my exhausted anal lips and up the dark passage, sending a chill up my spine. Finally the muscles respond, closing the hole; but not before the last vestiges of his seed and all other unimaginable substances trickle down the crack of my ass to puddle on the sheets.

Gradually our tortured lungs slow as our heart rates begin to fall back to normal. I lick my dry lips, but I am not ready to break the silence. There is nothing to say, at least not at the present time. Each of us has too much to think about.

Never have I ever done anything like this in my life. Never have I dreamed of doing anything like this in my life, not even in my most wild erotic dreams, the likes of which I never shared with another living soul - not even John. The most we have ever done is talked about it, but I had always refused for any number of reasons. I always thought that he accepted my reluctance. This morning he acted like a crazy man, unwilling to listen, to take guidance from me, bent on taking pleasure and giving it.

The scary part, the truly scary part of the whole experience, is that I have to admit, but only to myself, that I liked it, I really liked it. As my mind struggles to come to grips with this new and exciting aspect of my sex life – no, our sex life - I can feel John rise from the bed. He walks around the foot of the bed and comes to a stop with his knees inches from my face.

John bends down close to my ear and says, "liked it, didn’t you, Peggy?" The tone of his voice says it all. It is not a question, but rather a simple statement of fact. He knows, he can read my body like an open book. "You liked it, you never thought you would. You never thought you could bring yourself to do it, but you did it and you liked it. I may have taken the decision out of your hands, I may have forced you in the beginning and you don’t like that, but you liked it – no, you loved it."

John pauses to let his words sink in and for me to respond. Silent, my mind churns, unwilling to reduce my thoughts and feelings to words yet. Sensing this he continues. "You have some thinking to do this morning, some self-examination. Our sex life is going to change in the next few weeks. We are going to try things we never dreamed, let alone dared, in the past. You liked this morning. You never thought you would, but you did. You have the desire to explore your sexuality with me, but do you have the courage?"

The lethargy that has seeped into my body makes me slow to react to his words, but gradually they penetrate and my eyes open wide. His words slide home. He knows, he really knows, just how turned on I was in the end, impaled on his cock, helpless in his arms. As I lift my head to look at him for the first time every muscle in my body screams in rage, demanding time to recuperate. My eyes crawl up his long legs and I see his still partially erect cock hanging down his leg, slick with our juices. He contracts his stomach muscles and it twitches, showing all visible signs of coming back to life to invade some orifice of my body for a third time this morning. A stab of fear pierces my heart as I realize that my mouth is all that is left.

Words of protest rise like bile to my lips to spew forth uncontrolled and lacking thought and organization. "No, no more this morning. I really didn’t enjoy it. No woman could enjoy that. It was nothing more than my nerve-endings responding to stimulation, nothing more. No decent woman would enjoy that. It is not decent, it’s not right, and you know it, John." The protest is half-hearted and the tone lacks conviction. He knows it and so do I.

Starring at his twitching cock, I fail to see the smile that creases his face. A smile is not an accurate description of his expression; maybe the word smirk would be far more descriptive and closer to the truth. As he looks down he says, "You’re lying Peggy, and what is more, I know you are lying. You liked it. You liked it a lot. It thrilled you and scared you at the same time. It scared you that I might rip you apart and you would have to explain to the doctor. It scared you that you liked it too. Most of all, it scared you because you liked it and you are worried that the kids or our friends will find out and think you are some kind of sexual pervert."

My jaw drops as my eyes widen. He knows, he is reading my mind. "No, it’s wrong," I whisper, almost to myself, but there is no feeling in my voice. I am going through the motions, saying the words without feeling or belief.

John startles me as he leans forward and slaps me viciously across the cheek of my ass with his huge hand. I jump on the bed, my muscles screaming at the abuse, but I fail to hear them. The burning pain from the slap spreads like fire through my fatigued body. "Stop, oh god that hurts," I squeal as my hand snakes around so that I can massage the tender cheeks.

"Then stop lying to yourself and to me, Peggy. I won’t have it." He punctuates his comment with another slap but this one lacks the force of the last. It is a reinforcement of his words, not the emphasis of a new statement. "It’s not about right and wrong, it’s about pleasure and pain."

John’s words sink in as I massage the red cheeks where the clear imprint of his hand can be clearly seen as I stretch to look over my shoulder.

As I continue to rub my stinging cheeks, he straightens up. My head swivels once again to follow his movement. My eyes are riveted to his cock, hanging down the side of his naked leg, slick with my juices and dripping the last of his seed on the carpet, droplet by droplet. His voice, deep and strong, booms over my head. "Jesus H. fucking Christ, Peggy, but you are a great fuck. The older we get the better you seem to get. Why don’t you lie in bed late this morning? I’ll get my own breakfast. Besides, I have to work in the garage this morning. The tractor has a slow leak in the rear tire and I have to fix it before I have to call the service vehicle to change it." I simply nod my head in acknowledgement, far too exhausted to even groan.

As he dresses, he continues talking. Each word he says sears on my brain, never to be forgotten. "Things are going to get interesting, Peggy. Every day from now on is going to be a sexual surprise for you, for us. Do you hear me?" All I can do is nod my head in acknowledgement. "When you get up, have a nice hot bath and shave your bush bare, do you hear me?"

My head pops up from the bed, the agonizing scream of tortured muscles totally ignored. My eye pop open and my jaw drops. "What?"

"You heard me, shave it. Shave it bald, so smooth it feels like the bottom of a freshly changed baby. When you’re done, rub some nice cream into it."

Swallowing hard, I struggle to moisten my mouth to get the words out. "Why, what are you going to do tonight?"

The look that comes on his face is unlike any look I have ever seen on his face before. It is the look of a man totally satisfied with himself, the look of a man utterly convinced he is in total command of the situation. "Tonight I am going to start by trying to suck your insides out through your pussy. I love that thick bush, but as much as I do, if I wanted a flossing I’d go to the drugstore for floss. Did you know that the human tongue is the strongest muscle in the human body?" The question is rhetorical and we both know it.

I can only nod in agreement that I have heard what he has said.

John is unwilling to accept my nod as compliance and pushes the issue. "Answer me, Peggy. I can’t hear you."

"I understand," I croak in a voice that I can barely recognize as my own.

"Oh, and one last thing, after you get up and straightened away, I want you to bring me a black coffee in the garage and…" he pauses looking at me intensely, waiting for a reaction.

Dumbly, I stare at him, waiting for the rest. Finally he continues, knowing he has my attention.

"Bring me your auburn curls you shaved off so I know you have done what you were told. Peggy, this will be our little signal that you are interested in playing this new game. If you fail to bring them to me, I will know that there is no future in this line of exploration. Your call, babe."

I remain speechless as John completes dressing and, as he is about to leave the bedroom, he pauses, and returns. Transfixed, I watch as he checks to make sure I am watching, and assured, reaches into his trouser pocket. Dramatically, he throws a heavy coin into the bucket on his side of the closet. His parting comment is almost lost on me. "Cheer up, your honeymoon cruise is getting a lot closer than you think."