A Permanent Visitor Ch. 01

Belatedly, I whispered in her ear, "What's your name?"

"Misty. Can I please have my ass back?"

"That doesn't sound like a real name. It's like a stripper's name. And it's my ass now, and I'll do what I want with it."

"My name really is Misty - you can look at my driver's license. Please - it hurts." My dick was slipping out on its own anyway, so I went ahead and pulled it all the way out. It slipped out easily, just as it would have out of her pussy.

"Thank you. Can I go clean up now?"

"Can you go clean up now, what?"

She sighed, exasperated.

"Can I go clean up now, sir?" She was unamused. I laughed at her as I rolled off and slapped her ass to send her off to the bathroom. She walked gingerly out the door and I noticed a red drop of blood running down the inside of her leg.

Now, my dick deflated and my lust slaked, I felt terrible about what I had just done. All of my joy at my first anal experience drained out of me. And, for the third or fourth time, I had second thoughts about this whole deal. But now, feeling as low as I did, I couldn't justify forcing her back out into danger. So instead, I went over to where her shorts were and rummaged through them. I heard the shower running, so I took my time.

Her pockets held nothing. Not a credit card, not an ID, keys, anything. There was a big lump in the shorts, though, and I was surprised that I hadn't noticed it earlier. Examining the inside of the shorts, I found a poorly sewn secret compartment. I tore out the stitching and discovered a fat wad of cash. Several thousand dollars, all in hundreds. I had a secret spot where I kept my weed hidden, and I stuck the money in there.

The shower stopped and I could hear her mumbling. I stepped quietly over to the bathroom door.

"... and I have to end up with the one perv. Ouch!" I heard the toilet seat go down and then a series of curses, some of which got quite creative, and most of them aimed at me.

"You don't have to stay here if you don't like it," I said loud enough for her to hear. Then, without knocking, I just opened the door and strolled right in. She was on the toilet, her eyes scrunched together and her mouth pursed.

"You got acid for cum or something? It burns in there. And outside too!"

I let it go and stepped into the shower to clean off my dick, which smelled none too wholesome. I only stayed in there long enough to thoroughly wash my cock, so she was still on the toilet when I got out. "I'm bleeding!" she spit at me.

My plan was to confront her about the money, but the shame of hurting her combined with the embarrassment of trying to harangue her with my dick and balls swinging in her face to make me put off the matter until later. Instead, I tried to come up with some clever saying that would shut her up. My mind empty, I thought better of it and left, closing the door behind me.

The money had brought up some questions. Was she a thief? If so, would she steal from me? Pretty likely, I thought, given what I had just done to her. All I really had worth stealing was in my wallet. I had left it in yesterday's pants, hanging on the chair in the bedroom. I had just gotten used to switching my pocket contents between pants every morning. It was harder to lose stuff that way, although I couldn't count how many times I'd washed some money or my driver's license.

I checked the pants pocket and was relieved to find that it was still there, contents intact. More groans came from the bathroom and I heard the toilet flush. I hurriedly shoved the wallet into my dresser and gathered her towel up around me.

I got her another towel from the linen closet and wrapped it around her.

"Do I have to do that every night?" she pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

I didn't have an answer for that. The old me wanted to give her whatever she asked to make up for the brutal sodomy, but the new me wanted to take it every night. Instead, I sat her down at the kitchen table.

"What do you like on your pizza?"

"What?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm hungry, and there's not much in the house, so I'm ordering pizza."

"From where?"

"DiAngelo's - they make good pizza."

"NO! Not from there!"

Now it was my turn to say, "What?"

"They - they own that place. I can't have the pizza boy see me."

"Okay, so hide when he shows up."

"No, the pizza will be too large for one person. They probably already suspect this entire block." She sounded crazy.

"So where can I order from?"

"Don't - I'll cook. You've gotta have something I can turn into a meal."

"Wait. Stop. No more of this shit. I want to know what I'm protecting you from. You got me into this, so now you have to tell me what I'm up against."