An Evening Home - Alone? Ch. 01

"Suck it. Suck that finger that I fucked you with.
Suck that finger that I just pulled out of your dripping wet pussy.
Suck that finger that's as hard as my huge cock is right now."

She realized that her hand was still rubbing her clit. Not just rubbing now. Grabbing, stroking, pushing against it.How could he know? How could he know what she liked, deep down inside? It was too much, too much,too much. Gasping, she desperately flung her head to the right, her left cheek now feeling the coolness of the glass. And froze. And then made herself unfreeze, so as not to let him realize.

Stephanie's car. Her little yuppie BMW, sitting there in the driveway.Stephanie's car. Where was she? How long had she been home? It couldn't have been too long . . . could it have been? Ali realized that she really didn't know how much time had passed since she had come upstairs; she couldn't see a clock, only knew that it was slightly darker than it had been, yet not dusk yet. Now, to only act . . . normal. Normal, so he wouldn't know that something had happened, that things had changed - maybe changed. Normal? That small part of her mind that was still objective, still rational almost laughed at her, wondering what acting "normal" could possibly be at the moment. She had no idea where Stephanie was, only that she hadn't come upstairs.

It was difficult to think and to suck on his finger at the same time, but she did both, although perhaps not very well. Not very well at all, based on his reaction. The finger was out of her mouth, the mouth was not on her pussy, the other hand was not teasing her ass. Instead, he was standing again and pulling at her. Not understanding, she started to step backward, to allow him to pull her backward as his arm was around her waist. But, no . . . his other hand was against her back, just under her neck, holding her in place, if not pushing her upper body quite forward. Ali cried out in a bit of shock as his finger slammed up into her. It would have hurt, if his mouth hadn't made her so wet - that burned almost as anything else, that hehad made her so wet, that this stranger had done this to her. Goddamnit, it felt good. There. Fine. She admitted it to herself -it felt good.

Rational thought went away for a while, and her world shrunk. Shrunk to his finger - now fingers - and her body. With a mixture of horror and indifference, she knew that she was moving her body against his hand, moving her ass in rhythm with his thrusting and sliding. Thrusting and sliding, wet gliding. Fingers. Pussy. Fingers. Pussy. Fingers, up, down, against, inside. Pussy, expanding, conforming, tightening, gripping. Fingers, pussy. Cock, pussy. Cock, pussy. It was his cock. Now it was his cock. It was better. Bigger. Harder. Cock. Deeper. Throbbing. Powerful. Hot. She wanted it. Wanted it deeper. And harder. And more. And more. And more. Yes,fuck yes. More.

Opened her eyes. Didn't see. At first. Too much happening to look, to see. Then saw. Then looked. Thensaw.

Saw Stephanie. Who was in her own bedroom. Who looked right at her and then walked away from the window, fading and then out of sight.To call 911. Of course.

Her captor, her tormentor, herfucker didn't appear to have noticed. At least, his assault upon her did not stop, did not slow. She was no longer sure if she was responding willingly or by rote, out of self preservation or of lust. She was no longer sure it mattered, as she knew, knew that it couldn't last much longer. Stephanie was calling the police, Stephanie, her unlikely saviour.

But . . . wait, something wasn't right.Goddamn he was big. There was something, some thread of thought.Fuck yes, oh god, so fucking deep. Something, something she fought to hold onto, to focus on.His hand, grabbing her nipple HARD and pulling, making the pain mix with the unfuckingbelievable pleasure of her dripping wet pussy being plunged into as deeply as she could imagine. Where were the police? Where were they? And then, a much worse and far more frightening thought. Did she want the police? Of course she did. Did she? Or did she want more, more of that hot fucking cock that kept pounding into her, kept forcing her face against the cool glass, kept making her cry out.Fuck fuck fuck fuck no no no no more more more harder harder harder cock cock cock

She grabbed her left nipple, grabbed it and pulled, grabbed it and mauled, her other hand up against the glass, providing some cushion as he pounded her. And pounded her. Hardcore, hard, fucking, pounding, plunging. Hard as her fucking nipple, hard has his cock, hard as the glass cutting against her. Fuckingher, takingher, makingher pussy the only thing that mattered in the world. Maybe Stephanie wouldn't call the police, maybe she would just go away and let Ali get the fucking of her life, the fucking of her soul, the fucking that would never end, go on and on, in her mind or otherwise. She didn't want it to stop, not anymore. There would be a price to pay, oh yes there would, but not now. Now was just time to go on, to go forward, to go deeper, to take more, to be part ofit, to be bad, to not care, to be a woman who got what she wanted, what she needed, what she deserved. She heard a woman's voice, but it seemed so far away, a woman's voice, what was it saying . . . ? She thought . . . thought she heard - she did hear. "Yes, yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me, hard, come on, hard!" And Ali suddenly knew it was her own voice, and that she was yelling at him just as she thrust herself back into him, just as her pussy clenched hard around him, just as her entire body flexed and stiffened and trembled and folded in on itself yet exploded all at the same time . . . .

The end. For now.