A Little Less Talk

Notes from the author:

Hey guys. Welcome to my first quick-stroke piece. Or what I consider to be quick stroke. Light build-up, light cool down. This one is dedicated to Toby Keith, and based loosely on one of his hit singles. Toby you are ever sexy, ever real, and ever tall. To all Toby fans, I hope you like this one, because when you listen to the song, you will forever be either aroused, or disgusted. Please note that this features heavy elements of degradation and humiliation. Also there is no fairytale ending.

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I don't know if I regret my actions or not. I just don't know.

When I casually looked over at my wife's phone to see the recent text message asking her to meet in an hour, along with an address, I wanted to believe my immediate suspicion was false. Lesley was a good wife, but lately she'd been acting weird.

Quickly, I snapped a photo of the address with my own phone before scooting back to my side of the couch.

"Aaaghhhh," she yawned as she came back from the bathroom. "Did I miss anything?"

We'd been watching the Houston-Cleveland game, and I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that it was a tedious point for point, foul for foul shit-storm.

"Nah, but your phone dinged," I gestured to her phone sitting on the arm of the couch.

I watched her check her phone out of the corner of my eye.

"Awww crap," she muttered.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's Chrissy. She's having issues with Jake. She wants me to come over."

She sighed a frustrated sigh as she rose from the couch.

"Do you want me to record the game?" I asked, observing her closely.

"Nah, at this rate I don't care who wins," she groaned. "I'm gonna go to Chrissy's. Probably be back late kay?"

"Kay," I responded nonchalantly. But I watched her eager gait as she headed for the bedroom to change.

When she emerged, she looked a bit more dressed up than usual, especially for consoling her friend Chrissy. But I said nothing.

"Don't wait up for me sweetie," she kissed my cheek and gave me her sweet smile.

It made me want to kick myself for suspecting her of any wrongdoing, but that text was very odd. It had come from a random out of area number. Chrissy was in her contacts. I had to know for sure.

"Alright," I yawned. "I'll probably head to bed early anyway. See you in the morning?"

"Yeah, see you in the morning baby," she blew me a kiss before disappearing out the front door.

I headed to the front window to see her back the car more hastily than usual out of our driveway, and up the quiet residential street.

I changed quickly and went to grab my keys from the kitchen counter before jogging out to my truck.

Was I really doing this? Was I really going to follow my wife of seven years to see if she was having an affair? This had to be an unhealthy train of thought. Why would she cheat? We'd been happy enough. I had thought I was enough to satisfy her, but sex had admittedly been diminishing in frequency. And enthusiasm.

I had to know.

I punched the address into my GPS on my phone and proceeded to follow her.

An hour later, I found myself at a seedy motel off the highway.

Really? Chrissy was meeting her at a seedy motel?

I felt a sinking feeling in my gut, and shook my head. Circling the parking lot, I looked for her car. I found it next to a black Benz, and frowned. Okay, her car was here, a car far more expensive than mine was here, and there were probably thirty motel rooms in which she could be.

The information I had before me was enough to draw a conclusion, but I wanted to see it. I wanted to see it in front of me before I flushed my marriage down the drain.

I assessed the row of rooms on the ground floor first. Most were completely dark from the nighttime drapes, but there were a few that glowed. I decided to start with the glowing room closest to their cars.

Nope, old man watching the tube.

Next.

Nope, young man fucking skinny chick screaming in pleasure. Wait. I looked closer, not caring about being discreet. It's not like they were being discreet, keeping the privacy drapes open and all.

Good God.

It was Lesley. It was Lesley. He had her by the hips, slamming into her from behind on the bed. Her eyes were closed, her mouth hanging open, and I could see her meeting his thrusts.

The whore. The bitch.

I shook my head, stepping away from the window. I was tempted to take a picture with my phone, but it would be too blurry to serve as evidence. And too painful if it wasn't.

Instead I snapped a photo of their license plates, side by side as they were, and the parking lot, and name of the motel.

And I was done.

Done. Numb.

Enraged.

I drew in a deep breath, and paced back to my truck. Shaking my head at the dust laden Ford, I got in and gripped the steering wheel.

What now?

What now?

Nothing. Nothing.

Taking another breath, I pulled out of the lot and headed a bit further up the highway, driving numbly until I saw anything of interest.

I was driving through the middle of nowhere, long after the sun went down, so there were only so many things to look at.

Then over the ridge, flashing neon lights.

Grubby's Bar.

It was remarkable the names you could give bars, and have people still walk in and pay money for drinks. Drinks were drinks. Booze was booze. And right now, that was the best solution I could figure for my immediate needs.

I pulled in with a screech from my tires, and parked at the back. As I stalked towards the entrance, my limbs felt heavy and my chest felt numb. It was the shittiest feeling in the world.

What had I done? What had I done to make her go astray?

Don't think about the bitch. She's not worth it.

I tried to smooth my features a bit as I came through the door. Music was blaring, and there were a surprising number of patrons for such a remote area. The pool tables were rattling, laughter and whistles rampant in the air. I just wanted a drink.

"Jack," I muttered to the bartender.

He said nothing, but slid the glass over. I guess he could tell I wasn't in the mood for any more social interaction than necessary. Good man.

I was basking in the burn when another appeared magically before me. I looked up, but the bartender was headed the other direction. Perhaps he'd happened across his wife fucking another man, and recognized 'the look' on my face. Perhaps he knew because he had felt it once.

"Hey," came a light feminine voice.

Curiously, I looked to my left, and found a young blonde number staring up at me. She was dressed to torture. Tight tank top with plunging neckline. Leather looking skirt. Cute little boots. Lipstick that drew the eye to her hot young mouth.

But it was her eyes that really commanded my attention. For a moment.

I wasn't exactly a ladies man in my day, but I recognized that look.

That flirty come hither look.

"I'm Sarah," she announced, scooting a little closer.

I threw back my second round of Jack before I glanced back at her in annoyance.

I wasn't in the mood.

Or wasn't I?

The little tart was obviously up for it.

Or was she?

Even if she was a tart, insatiable as any I'd ever met, she didn't know what she was dealing with. She didn't deserve the asshole I was bound to be right now. It was best to just send her away, quickly.

I was about to tell her just that, when I felt her hand on my leg.

Shit.

---

"Harry, quit being a douche!" I whined.

My friend Stacey's boyfriend was being a douche, and kept bumping me when I was lining up my shot. I had scratched on my last three shots, and it was getting old quick.

Greg had bailed on our double date, and while things weren't serious between us yet, I was still annoyed and in need of validation.

Stacey was already drunk, and Harry kept feeling her up when he thought I wasn't looking.

Fuck.

It sucked to be a third wheel.

Thankfully, tonight I had options. With attractive women making up a miniscule fraction of the patrons at Grubby's, many men were on the prowl, and the raw sexual looks coming my way were plentiful. I need only have picked.

And then I saw him.

A tall man, with a rugged, pissed off at the world demeanor came through the door, and headed straight for the bar. He had longish wavy hair and dark eyes. Hoo mama.

Hoo mama? Did I really just think the words Hoo mama?

Looking back at my friends, I scrunched up my nose when I saw them necking in the corner. Fuck this.

I hastily re-applied my lipstick before straightening and sauntering over to him.

"Hey," I greeted as seductively as I could manage.

The man glanced at me, and I was immediately tempted to walk away. He did not seem that friendly. But he was so hot. And I was so in need. At the moment, I could really use a bad boy, and this one seemed to fit the bill perfectly.

"I'm Sarah," I continued, a little louder.

This time, he glanced, but his eyes shifted lower. I let him look.

But then he looked away. This one was a tough nut to crack.

He ignored me again, and tossed back his drink. But I wasn't giving up.

I decided to be more direct. Gently, I slipped my hand over his thigh, resting it softly there.

Still nothing. He just glared at his empty glass.

Clearing his throat, he finally spoke.

"Walk away little girl."

I couldn't help but feel a bit discouraged. What was wrong with me? Didn't he think I was attractive? For God's sake, my hand was on his leg. Did a female invitation get any more direct than that?

"What if I don't?" I challenged, applying the slightest bit of pressure on his thigh.

"I said, walk away. Final warning."

His gruff tone sent chills all over my body, and I knew my nipples were showing through my top. I had to push it just a little further. What was he going to do? Hit me? In front of all these people?

"No," I whispered, shifting my hand an inch higher on his leg, towards the crotch of his jeans. He smelled so good.

He flagged the bartender, who was already on his way over with another glass.

I kept my hand where it was, silent, waiting on his reaction.

He threw back another round of what looked like whiskey, and fished some bills out of his pocket, plopping them on the bar.

Roughly, he removed my hand from his leg and dismounted from the barstool. I thought that was it. My official rejection.

But he turned back to me and grabbed my arm, leading me quickly to the door.

"Let's go," he growled.

Oh my God, it had worked. He was accepting my invitation! So what now?

He led me through the gravel parking lot. We passed several parked cars, and several vacant spaces. Where were we going? Was that his old truck at the far end of the lot? In the dark?

I wasn't scared of the dark exactly, but there were other factors involved here. Such as the tall, built, agitated man I had chosen to rile, grasping my tiny arm in his rough hand. Plus, he apparently was a man of few words. I had no clue of his intentions. I only knew what mine had been. Or did I? What had I been expecting? What had my intentions been? Oh shit.

It was hard to feel much remorse though, what with the intense sensation of arousal taking precedent. This huge gorgeous hunk of a man was urgently escorting me to his vehicle. Was there any feeling more thrilling in the world?

When we reached the truck, I expected he would steer me around to the passenger side, load me in, and take me away to God knew where for a night of passion. But he instead backed me up against the end of his flat bed.

"What did I tell you?" he growled again.

He was right up against me, and I could feel his hot breath on my face.

"What did I tell you??" he hissed, louder this time.

I shivered in his grasp.

"You told me to walk away," I whispered.

I could feel myself drenching my panties. This guy was so large, so rugged, and so...scary. It filled me with the most intense combination of fear and lust. I had to have more. I could feel his body heat, and his erection practically knocking the wind out of me.

"Yes, I did. But you didn't listen, did you?"

My mouth hung open in arousal as I shook my head quickly. It was hard to see much in the dark, but I could see the intensity of his eyes in the moonlight.

God, he was so hot, and so huge. I could feel his cock against my belly. Hard. Thick. Meaty.

I gasped as he pushed me harder against the truck. But I realized he was just reaching into the flatbed behind me to grab something.

His weight came off me suddenly, and I blinked stupidly in confusion.

>Thud<

He dropped what looked like a folded up tarp on the gravel at my feet.

"On your knees, now."

I gaped at him. Here?

"You will regret me telling you twice, girl. Fucking kneel," he demanded hoarsely.

His tone was angry, and I dared not ignore him. I could have run, but I didn't really want to. I obeyed.

The gravel crunched beneath the tarp, and it was uncomfortable. But what did I expect? I had acted like a whore, and he was treating me like one.

He undid his belt as I watched, and then his fly.

I was transfixed as he released his long shaft from his boxers. My eyes were finally starting to adjust to the dim light, and I saw his huge manhood looming before me.

Veiny. Angry.

"Suck it."

I reached up hesitantly, getting acquainted with his shaft. It was smooth as silk. I could smell his body wash. What was that? It was spicy. Masculine. Old school.

"Don't make me repeat myself again, whore! Suck it!"

His deep thunderous voice set my body aflame and I immediately complied.

I relished the sound of him sucking in air through his nostrils when my lips wrapped around him.

"Shhit!" he hissed softly as I took half of his cock in my mouth.

I feared that half would be all I could manage. He was huge. Thick.

But he was not interested in my limits. His hands fisted in my hair, pulling me forward. When I resisted, he growled and pulled my hair hard until I felt pain in my scalp.

Firmly, he began to pump into my mouth.

I gagged repeatedly, but he didn't care.

He didn't care. He was using me. Like a whore.

But I was a whore. Look what I had done. I had approached him. I had put my hand on his leg, and refused to leave him alone. I had been a slut. And I deserved this.

I did my best to relax my throat and swallow his cock.

"Mmm," he purred as he felt me submit.

I sucked in air through my nose as he pulled out to the head. Realizing he wanted me to suck again, I bobbed my head up and down, dragging my lips firmly over his mushroom head again and again before teasing his piss hole with the tip of my tongue.

My ex-boyfriend had loved that.

"Rrrrr, whore," he muttered.

I smiled in satisfaction. As best I could with his huge cock penetrating my lips anyway.

I felt his hands go from pulling my hair to gently caressing my scalp.

"Mmmmm," I moaned into him, sucking eagerly. I wanted to submit to this glorious specimen of man. He took what he wanted. Unlike any loser I had ever dated.

"Suck harder," he ordered gruffly, releasing his hold on my hair.

I went to town on his cock. I bobbed on it, caressed it with my tongue, gagged on it, purely to pleasure him, all while sucking like my life depended on it.

"Back up a bit, slowly," he gritted.

I wasn't sure what he meant, but I shimmied backward on my knees, my face still impaled on his cock. How far did he want me to scoot back? And why?

I got my answer when I felt the bumper of his truck lightly graze the back of my head. I was trapped, and he took the opportunity to wrap his hands in my hair again.

My head was all but immobilized, at his complete mercy.

"Relax your throat, whore," he warned.

Slowly but firmly, he thrust into my throat, a little deeper with each thrust. I still hadn't taken more than two thirds of him, and I heard him growl in frustration.

I felt his nails tickle my scalp as he fisted his hands tighter in my hair, causing me to moan into his shaft.

I heard a rumble from his chest, and I knew he would not be stopping now.

With my head pressed firmly against the bumper, I had nowhere to go. He forced his thick penis into my throat. I could hardly breathe, and desperately sucked in air through my nose. He kept forcing it, and I panicked as my air was cut off. But there was nothing I could do.

By the grace of God, I finally felt his blanket of fur caress my face.

"Good whore," he growled so softly I barely heard him.

The praise from him was like air to my lungs, and I relaxed, and submitted.

He pulled back a few inches so I could breathe, and then thrust back in, enjoying the tightness of my throat. And as awkward as it was, I wanted to give it to him. Again and again.

"Nnnn, touch my balls," he gritted. I knew he was close.

My hands had been resting against his thighs in a vain attempt to control his thrusts.

I obeyed, reaching into his boxer legs to fondle his balls. God, they were huge. Like him. I marveled at the feel of them, like oranges in each hand. How full they were, how warm. They were full of his potent cum, waiting to be released wherever he chose.

"Again," he warned, as he thrust deep into my gullet.

I massaged his balls, enjoying the new high of having my air cut off, only to be renewed when this man allowed it.

God I loved the feel of his balls. They were so huge, so warm, so...manly. I tugged on them gently and felt chills race through me when he moaned.

He gave me air again, and then thrust back. I took the opportunity to venture one hand behind his sac. I ran my fingers along the furry channel, and massaged the fleshy area there.

"Rrrrrrr, whore," he growled like a fucking wolf.

"Mmmm," I responded, my eyes fluttering in submissive delight.

He let me play with the fleshy spot behind his balls for a while, and then pulled out completely.

"Stroke me," he commanded softly.

His shaft was thoroughly coated in my saliva, and I happily squeezed and jerked him, eager to give him release. I opened my mouth, waiting, eager to taste him.

"Close your mouth," he ordered.

What?

But I obeyed.

"Keep stroking me!" he admonished when I slowed.

I abandoned playing with his balls and devoted both hands to his cock. I jerked him again and again, staring up at his face. He wasn't looking at me, just closing his eyes, enjoying the sensations. He looked so beautiful in the moonlight, towering over me.

"Nnnn..."

That was my only clue before I got splashed in the face.

Rope after rope blasted me. And I kept pumping him. I had to. I had to feel more of his hot masculine ejaculate spurting over my face. It was so dirty. I loved it.

It was only when his hand came down to cover mine that I realized he had finished.

"Up," he commanded softly, reaching down to help me.

My knees were raw from the gravel beneath the tarp, but I could hardly feel them anyways.

Still recovering, he drew in a deep breath before nodding softly at me. In approval?

Was it over?

I very nearly came as he lifted his hand and caressed my cheek. But he wasn't caressing. He was rubbing.

He rubbed his thick cum into my cheeks before moving to my forehead. Then my nose, my chin, my lips. He was deliberately massaging his cum into my skin, all over my face. Marking me fully as his whore.

I'd never felt more aroused. More owned.

I darted my tongue out as he generously coated my lips, and for the briefest moment, he smiled.

Almost affectionately, he raked his sticky fingers through my hair, completing his mark upon me. Only then did he gift me with his fingers.