by Willailla ©
She couldn't remember his name so she merely pointed the way in. She stumbled slightly and felt his grip tighten around her waist. High heels and liquor didn't go well together.
It was a large, high-ceilinged apartment, converted from a Victorian second floor, setting room. A kitchen: frig and counter-sink to the left and a U-shaped alcove to the right where she kept all her books on two rows of shelves. There were storage benches that went all around the bottom upon which as many as a dozen people could have sat. Beyond the kitchen was a living room, paneled in curly maple The furnishings were Spartan. A TV set to the left. A fold-up bed to the immediate right. Two tall shuttered windows between which was a drop-leaf table of maple and two straight backed chairs. There was a marble-faced fireplace, which no longer worked and, to the left, a large bathroom with floor to ceiling storage cabinets.
She clicked the TV onto channel 3, started the VCR which filled the room with a blue glow. She didn't want to break the mood by flicking on the harsh ceiling lights.
The man put his hands on her narrow waist from behind and kissed her neck. She leaned back against him, laying her head over to the side. She was small, barely five feet tall even in heels. His hands moved around to cup her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra beneath her blouse. She trembled slightly as he began unbuttoning it. She moved away from him and put the blouse on the table, then unzipped her skirt. When she was naked, she lay down on the bed.
She watched him undress in the blue glow. He was of medium height and bald. When he took his shirt off, his love handles protruded over the waistband of his trousers. He wore boxer shorts, and when he took them off, his penis, even though hard, was small. He got between her legs as soon as he was on the bed. He had trouble finding the hole, so she guided him in. He came almost instantly. Three quick thrusts and he came.
Later, he came in her again, lasting only a little longer than before. After he left, sometime early in the morning, she masturbated in the tub. It was Saturday, so she slept late. In the afternoon, she went over to see her friend, Julie.
"Why do you do it?" Julie asked, over coffee, shaking her head. "Picking up strange men."
"I don't know. It's exciting. " Anne answered.
"Hmm. It may be exciting, girl, but it's dangerous. What if you pick up some pervert, or catch something. I'll bet you don't even have them wear a rubber, do you?"
"I know," Anne said. "I can't explain it even to myself. But it's the danger that is so exciting, not knowing the man, not knowing what he'll do. As for getting pregnant, I use the rhythm method."
"Girl, you sure don't know much for a supposedly educated person. Didn't anyone ever tell you that the rhythm method doesn't work?"
"I haven't gotten preggers, yet," Anne answered.
"Yet," Julie stated flatly. "And what about your teaching job. I believe there's a moral clause in your contract. If they ever found out you were screwing around, you could lose your job. Did you ever stop to think about that?"
"I'm single. I can date whomever I please," she answered defensively. "It's nobody's business."
"It's one thing to date a lot, but it's quite a different matter to go to bars and pick up strangers for sex, Anne. You know that."
"Well, maybe," she hedged, "but nobody's being hurt, and, besides, it's just a phase. I don't plan on doing it for the rest of my life. If I were a guy, you wouldn't think anything of it. You would just say I was sowing my wild oats."
"Yes, but you're not a guy. You're a woman, and women don't sow wild oats. They get sowed. Damn it, Anne, you're too accommodating to men; you're going to regret it."
"OK, you've made your point. I'm a bad girl. So spank me."
Julie grinned. "I would if I thought it would do any good, but knowing you, you'd probably like it."
* * *
Thank God, it's Friday! Anne thought.
She sat at the bar sipping a gin fizz.
A stocky man with thinning, gray hair sat down next to her.
"Hi. Buy you a drink, pretty lady?"
"No, thanks, I just got started on this," she smiled, nodding toward the 14 ounce gin glass, with its slice of lemon floating on top of crushed ice.
There was the click of pool balls coming from another room. From the lounge section a TV blared out the latest ball game. A single couple danced near a jukebox on a small square of parquet. Smoke drifted through the air.
He put his cigarette out and lighted another one. Ordered a whiskey neat and a beer chaser.
She crossed her legs. She was wearing a black, strapless, mini dress, with nothing on underneath.
A saxophone began to play Words.
"Not much happening tonight," he said.
"Yeah, I know. Something in the air, I guess," she said.
"Or water," he chuckled. "Name's Paul. Paul Richards. But everybody just calls me Paul." He laughed at his double attempt at humor.
She raised her eyebrow, then smiled to let him know she liked his company but thought he'd better think twice before quitting his day job to become a comedian.
"Anne," she replied. "Anne Morrow, like the poet." She never lied about her name. Part of the thrill was being totally up front. Walking the edge of the precipice.
"Don't know many poets," he said, "in my line of work."
"What's that?"
"Insurance. Usually up to here." he pointed to his neck, "in paper work, but this weeks been kinda slow. Wife's out of town visiting her sister and mother in Cleveland. Kids are all gone to college now, except for Cindy, my youngest. Thought I'd go out for awhile, you know, see if anything was shaking."
The name Cindy rang a bell If it was the same Cindy Richards, she was in her second period English class.
"Well, maybe if we put our heads together, we can find a way to make the evening more enjoyable." She smiled, flirtatiously.
* * *
"You don't think I'm too old do you?" he asked, as they drove through an upper middle class neighborhood.
She stroked her fingers through his thin, grayish hair and kissed his cheek. She hadn't put on her seat belt and was curled up next to him. His hand moved slowly back and forth along the inside of her thigh.
"I like older men," she said. "They know what they want. They make a woman feel secure." The last bit was a lie. Secure was one thing she didn't want to feel.
"Wait here," he said when they had entered a circular drive and stopped in front of a large two storied brick.
She watched him go in. After a few minutes he stuck his head out the door and motioned for her to come in.
"She's in the basement with some of her friends," he said, "watching TV and yapping. They won't bother us."
She lay down on the king-sized bed naked.
"Daddy, will have to punish you, if you don't do what he tells you," he said, suddenly shifting into a fantasy persona, climbing on the bed next to her.
"I'll do whatever you want, daddy," Anne said, picking up the cue.
Only for a moment had she been shocked by his sudden transformation from normal adult to fantasizing pedophile, for she had encountered several others like him during her Friday night outings. Her small size had something to do with it. She attracted men who liked to fantasize having sex with a young girl. He was the first she had known who wanted to fantasize sex with his daughter.
"Yes, I know you will; because if you don't, daddy will have to spank you."
Anne didn't think he would really spank her, not if she put up a serious protest. His fantasy wouldn't carry him that far, she felt certain, but she didn't want to have to put her conjecture to the test if it didn't need to be.
He pushed her thighs up to her breasts and shoved his cock into her. She was wet, but even so it hurt a little. He moved back and forth rapidly, his balls whacking against her ass. Whenever the urge to cum started to overwhelm him, he would ease back, leaving only the head in. Then, after several minutes, would begin pumping her again.
"If you cum, daddy will have to spank you," he grunted between gasps. Sweat was beginning to drip from his face onto her.
She had already cummed once, and, when he said that, she came again, her thighs trembling uncontrollably.
"Oh, you're a bad, little girl. Now you're going to get it," he exclaimed, thrusting into her wildly.
"Oh, daddy, you're too big. You're hurting me," she cried.
"That'll teach you to obey daddy next time."
He pounded into her. Her tits jiggled, with each flesh smacking thrust. Then his stocky frame tensed. He gasped, shuddered. Then, rolled off her.
* * *
Next Friday she cruised the streets looking for a bar and wondered idly about how many there were in the city. She picked one at random.
It wasn't until she was sipping her first drink that she realized she recognized some of the faces in the crowd.
"Hi, Miss Morrow," two young men said in greeting and sat down on stools next to her.
She recognized both of them. They were in her senior English class.
"David," she said to the tall, slender youth nearest her. "Phil." Fat and pimply-faced.
She noticed that both youths had drinks in their hands.
"We thought it was you," David said, "but we weren't sure. You sure look different from the way you dress at school."
She was wearing a thin-strapped, green, mini dress, cut low to show cleavage, nothing on underneath. Heavy on the make up: pale green eye shadow, lip gloss and rouge. Her long nails were painted pink with white tips. On her dainty feet she wore four inch spiked heels the color of her dress.
"Good different," Phil added, with a shy grin.
"How did you two guys manage those," she asked nodding toward their drinks.
"You won't tell will you?" David grinned, conspiratorially.
She made a show of squaring her shoulders back and crossing her heart with a swizzle stick.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"There's a black dude down on the west end who makes up phony driver's licenses for a hundred bucks."
"Your secret's safe with me," she grinned, her white teeth dazzling in the neon glow.
"We know; you're cool, Miss Morrow. That's why we came over to talk to you."
"Well, since we're not in class, why not call me Anne."
"All right, Anne," David said, a little bolder than his buddy Phil. "You're not with somebody are you?"
"Nope, I was just passing and thought I would drop in for a night cap."
She danced first with David, then Phil.
Several drinks later, David kissed her, then Phil.
Phil surprised her by being the first to tongue her.
* * *
"Oh, man," Phil exclaimed, while he and David were pissing in urinals. "We can fuck her, man. Easy."
"I know, I know. Man, she's hot, but where in the fuck can we take her?"
"Shit, man, we gotta think of something."
"Yeah, and we'd better get our asses back out there before somebody else gets her."
* * *
The blue glow of the TV created a surreal effect.
"I have to pee," she said, going into the bathroom. When she came out she was naked.
She made out with David for a long time. He French kissed her, finger fucked her and teased her clit driving her wild. Then, while Phil watched from one of the maple chairs, he mounted her and shoved his cock into her. She bucked beneath him uncontrollably. She gripped his lean ass, her long nails digging into the flesh. The wet sounds of their fucking and moaning filled the room.
Phil watched them and masturbated, careful not to cum before his turn.
After David came, he pulled his cock out; cum dripped on her belly.
Then Phil got between her legs. He was too excited. He tried to enter her, but the instant his cock head touch the wiry hairs of her pussy, he shot off. A glistening stream of cum spurted up her belly. Then another spasm sent a load into her face and hair.
She licked cum from her lips.
He rolled off onto her left, groaning. David lay down on her right and began frigging her clit. At the same time Phil tweaked her nipples. Their immature manipulations hurt, but the pain excited her. They rubbed their hands over her cum splattered body, and she licked it from their hands.
While they busied themselves sucking her tits and kissing her, she jacked each of them back into an erection.
She got between them on her hands and knees. She took David's cock in her mouth. Behind she felt Phil's small cock enter her. His fat belly eased against her ass like a soft cushion. He placed his hands on the sides of her ass and began rhythmically pumping in and out of her like an automaton.
She grasped David's cock in her hand and licked her tongue slowly down its entire length. Then she gently sucked on his hairy scrotum, sucking first one ball, then the other into her mouth. She tried to get both of them in at the same time, but her mouth was too small. Then she moved back up repeating the process in reverse. All the time, she was conscious of Phil smacking his fat belly against her ass and of his cock sliding in and out. She shuddered trying to hold back another climax. She reached back and cupped his tight scrotum in her palm. It was like holding a small, fuzzy peach.
After a few minutes, they traded positions. Her petite body seemed childlike between them. David's cock felt huge entering her after Phil. She took all of Phil's cock in her mouth without gagging. She pulled on it with her teeth, stretching it. Then sucked it gently; moving it out and licking it from base to head and back again, over and over. His balls, moistened with her saliva, slid easily into her mouth. She suctioned them while jacking his cock slowly, then rapidly, easing off whenever she felt his body begin to tense.
Both boys came in her at the same time. She swallowed the warm spurts that hit the back of her mouth. David slammed against her, making a wet, smacking sound against her taut ass with his hard belly. Cum trickled down the inside of her thighs.
* * *
"I'm worried about Anne," Julie said, lying in bed next to her husband Carl. "I haven't heard from her in days, and she never answers the phone. I think I ought to go over and check on her."
She started to get up, but Carl put a hand on her shoulder.
"Un un," he muttered. "Today's my day off, and I've got plans for you." He reached under her night shirt and slid his fingers between her labia.
She felt a tingling sensation along the insides of her thighs.
"Oh," she said, her voice becoming husky. "Ohaah."
* * *
They dumped her naked from the car. She lay on the grass staring up at the interior light. There were five of them, or had there been more? She couldn't remember. She had drunk too much. Everything was spinning. She was going to be sick. She rose up on her hands and knees and threw up. Then collapsed back into the grass. It felt cool against her body. The moon was shinning brightly above the tree tops. She was in a park somewhere, or out in the country. She didn't know.
"Leave her naked," one of the men said.
"Aw, throw her damn clothes out."
"Fuck, I don't see'um."
The car door slammed. The interior went black. She saw the glow of a cigarette. Heard laughter. Then the red tail lights moved on down the road dwindling until they were gone.