Bit of a Bitch, Chaos

Theresa was about to deny it. No, she had never been...

In school, Theresa had not instigated any mean treatment of less popular kids. But she had joined in when other students taunted and jeered the less popular students. Theresa had never defended the victims of taunting and teasing.

Shortly after her father had resumed his drinking, Nicholas Cohen had asked Theresa to the Homecoming Prom. Theresa knew that her family couldn't afford a dress and shoes and makeup and hairstyling for the occasion. She also did not want Nicholas coming to her house; Jerry might be drunk.

Nicholas was the first of quite a few young men that Theresa had lashed out at. Girls that attempted to befriend Theresa also found an ice-cold veneer protecting Theresa from anyone getting too close.

"Yes," Theresa whispered, ashamed.

Quietly, close to tears, she confessed her actions and the reason for her actions. Barry listened, his deep brown eyes drawing Theresa closer and closer to him.

"More coffee?" Jacqueline interrupted.

"You have a delicious lemon pound cake," Barry said, his warm voice causing flutters in both Jacqueline and Theresa. "I would like more coffee and a piece of that cake. "My dear Theresa, what will you have?

"I, I can't say no to their pecan pie," Theresa said to Barry.

"With ice cream? Melting all over it?" Barry suggested and Theresa was sure she would leave a wet spot on the vinyl bench.

"Please," Theresa begged Barry.

"Coming right up," Jacqueline croaked.

"I would love to see you again," Barry said as Jacqueline carried their plates and mugs away.

"I, yes," Theresa panted.

"I'm already late for a meeting," Barry smiled as he lay a twenty dollar bill onto the check. "Hmm, tomorrow evening? Nothing too fancy; love Lefty's baby back ribs. I'd love to share that with you."

"Love Lefty's," Theresa agreed readily.

Barry got Theresa's address and agreed he'd pick her up at six thirty. When he offered to walk her to her car, Theresa pointed to her bicycle chained to the bike rack just outside of the door.

"Hmm, if I wasn't running late," Barry said. "Ma'am, keep the change."

"Thanks," Jacqueline said brightly.

Theresa felt light headed when Barry wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her softly on her lips. Before Theresa could grab Barry and pull him tightly against her, he was walking to the door.

"That, that's a Porsche," Jacqueline said out loud as she and Theresa watched through the large window as Barry got into a low slung automobile.

"No it's not. That's an Aston Martin," Theresa said, grabbing her back pack and hustling to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, Theresa rubbed herself to an intense orgasm. Then she wiggled into her bike shorts, plopped the helmet on her head and left the bathroom.

Theresa couldn't think of anything but Barry's deep brown eyes and his warm enveloping voice. His story intrigued her; the son of a dance instructor and an accountant, he'd been a powerless pawn in his parents' struggle for dominance in their marriage, and again, a powerless pawn in their contentious divorce. After his mother was victorious, she shoved Barry aside to continue pursuing her own interests.

Clark Duhon, Barry's father did try to be a more active participant in his son's life, but was constrained by the legal documents. Any step outside of those legal parameters and Barry's mother was there with her lawyer.

Tiffany Wertmuller, a blonde cheerleader was a duplicate of Barry's mother. Narcissistic, only interested in her own pleasures, saw Barry as a mindless drone, there to serve Queen Tiffany.

By then, though, Barry had a better idea of his own worth. He was a bit of a prodigy with computers, both hardware and software applications. He was also quite astute in business and the various world markets. So, he rejected Tiffany and Tiffany's demands.

Tiffany went from haughty and dismissive to actively pursuing Barry. She even switched from registering at Mississippi State, her father's alma mater to registering to attend Berkeley.

In one of his computer classes, Barry met Morganza Smith. Physically, Morganza was hardly worth noticing; slim, almost boyish physique, unruly stiff blonde hair, and thick coke bottle glasses; her nickname in high school had been Miss Magoo. But her analytical mind was on par with Barry's mind. And in the bedroom, Morganza was deviant.

She too had been a pawn in her parents' marriage and subsequent divorce. But rather than be an unwitting victim, Morganza embraced passivity. She found power in submitting; it was her choice to submit.

"My safe word is 'polka dot shoes,'" Morganza instructed Barry as he bound her hands behind her back. "I say 'polka dot shoes' you need to stop immediately."

"Uh huh," Barry agreed as he bound her small feet to her wrists.

"Harder, Jesus, harder, you fucking pussy," Morganza screamed out as Barry's belt lashed across her small breasts.

Tiffany walked in as Barry was sliding his painfully hard cock into Morganza's tightly clenched anus. Barry did not miss Morganza's satisfied little smile as Tiffany ran wailing from Barry's dorm room. Barry pulled out of Morganza's clutching rectum and grabbed his belt.

"Oh fuck yes," Morganza grunted as Barry's belt struck her pussy over and over.

Theresa had to giggle; she'd pedaled right past her own home. Performing a tight turn, she pulled up to the garage and punched in the code to raise the door. She entered the kitchen through the garage and tried to act normal in front of her mother.

"I take it you like this Barry guy?" Cindy asked, looking over from her position at the stove.

"I uh, yeah, yeah, how you can tell?" Theresa asked, surprised.

"You went right past the house," Cindy said. "And that face of yours is some blushing, you hear?"

"I, he, he was, he is just so awesome," Theresa gushed.

"Sissy's got a boyfriend, Sissy's got a boyfriend," Claire sang out.

"Yes I do, well, God, I hope I do," Theresa giggled, grabbing her sister in a playful headlock.

"After you kill your sister, think you could make a salad?" Cindy asked.

"Yes ma'am," Theresa said.

"See? See? Yes ma'am, not, why I got do that?" Cindy said to Claire.

"Whatever," Claire retorted, earning herself two slaps to her buttocks; one from Theresa and one from their mother."

After dinner, Theresa helped her mother, helped Claire study for an upcoming History test.

Claire, this test is going be timed," Theresa reminded Claire. "You're not going to have any time to look this up when it's right in front of you."

"But it's so boring!" Claire complained.

"I know it is, I know it is, but please, please try?" Theresa begged.

Inside, Theresa was boiling mad. Claire just did not seem to grasp the importance of this. She needed to apply herself, try. They were struggling as a family and every minute Theresa had to spend coddling Claire was one minute Theresa could not devote to seeking gainful employment, or a way to cut corners even tighter. Or, God forbid, have a moment for herself.

Claire seemed to sense the turmoil within her sister and actually looked to see who had been the victor in the Hundred Years War. Theresa breathed a sigh of relief.

"Boring or not, it is important," Theresa said softly. "Now, who was king of England when the Hundred Years War ended?"

"Got Jerry down," Cindy smiled, entering the living room. "Theresa, go on; I got this."

Again, Theresa debated with herself; what did one wear to eat barbeque and still manage to impress her date? She finally selected a dark colored pullover top and a pair of khaki shorts. Her father had hated these shorts; the cuffed hem of the shorts tended to roll up. When they rolled up, a good portion of Theresa's backside peeked out.

"Hmm," was Cindy's response when she saw Theresa's outfit.

"He's here, oh my God, he's here," Theresa screamed in her head when Barry's arctic white sports car pulled to a stop on the street in front of the Meyers' home.

"Oh! That's a cute little car," Cindy said, peering through the window.

"Ohmygod, please don't tell him it's cute," Theresa begged.

"Oh calm down," Cindy giggled. "I've been around enough fragile male egos to know you don't tell them their toys are cute."

"Hmm," Cindy mused again as she spotted the somewhat older man getting out of the car.

"I know he's a bit older than me, but..." Theresa immediately started.

"Hmm!" Cindy again mused as Barry drew near to the front door.

"Good evening," Barry said when Cindy opened the door. "Hi, I'm Barry Duhon; Theresa ready?"

"She's not," Cindy said, feeling her heart thump in her chest. "But I am."

Barry smiled, displaying straight white teeth when they both heard Theresa screech, "Mmooom!"

"Hi, Cindy Meyers, Theresa's mother," Cindy said, ushering Barry into the home.

Claire was prepared to make a snarky comment, to needle her big sister. But the sight of Barry Duhon, with his curly hair, deep brown eyes, and bulging muscles displayed beautifully in his Polo shirt and snug jeans stifled the comment in Claire's throat.

Barry was charming, attentive and gracious to Claire, Cindy, and Jerry Jr. But his focus was mainly on Theresa. Finally, he silently offered Theresa his hand and she took it.

"Any special time I need to have her home?" Barry asked, pulling Theresa toward the door.

"I, well, it, no later than eleven, I would think," Cindy stammered.

"Eleven?" Theresa asked.

"Eleven is fine, Mrs. Meyers," Barry agreed. I've got a pretty full load for tomorrow."

The restaurant was crowded and noisy and filled with the smells of meat cooking over an open flame. Theresa was glad she'd put a panty liner in her panties; she could feel her juices puddling as Barry's fingers gently touched her face, her throat, her shoulders, her arms and her hands.

"I hope you don't mind, my dear," Barry said, voice low. "But you are such a treat. It's almost impossible to keep my hands from touching you."

"No, I don't mind," Theresa squeaked and immediately hated herself for squeaking.

After they'd polished off two full racks, along with jalapeno potato salad and purple cabbage cole slaw made with apple cider vinegar, Barry suggested they walk before going to Holland's for ice cream. Theresa readily agreed and Barry softly kissed her lips as he helped her to her feet.

"Oh!" Theresa squeaked again as Barry took her two wrists into his hand and pulled her hands behind her back. He held her in this position as they strolled along, pausing in front of various small shops.

"Hmm," Barry said, stopping in front of a jewelry store.

He swiveled, still holding Theresa's hands behind her back and pressed himself against her. Theresa looked up into his face, her own face flushed as she could smell his manly, earthy smell, feel his muscles pressed against her breasts, his semi-erect cock pressed against her belly.

"I think, a nice, thick choker, mm, gold, with two diamonds? Two because B is the second letter of the alphabet, letting everyone know you belong to me?" Barry suggested, tracing the fingertips of his free hand across Theresa's slim throat.

"Oh," Theresa shuddered, her pussy giving a spasm.

She could taste his food and his beer on his tongue. He kept her wrists tightly in his hand as he thrust his tongue into her mouth.

"Yes, I believe that would be..." Barry said, pulling away and giving another look into the window of the jewelry store.

A lingerie store had some scantily clad mannequins displaying their wares for the pedestrians to see. Barry again made a suggestion; Theresa would look very lovely in the baby doll nightie and thigh high stockings. The bustier and tong panties would also look quite stunning on her.

"So, what is your favorite color?" Barry asked as they waited to cross the street.

In that kind of stuff?" Theresa asked. "White. In normal every day kind of stuff? Blue. Baby blue."

"Ah, virginal white," Barry smiled as he opened the door of Holland's Ice Cream Shoppe.

After their sundaes, caramel for him and hot fudge for her, they continued to stroll, pausing every now and then to look into a store, or to kiss. In front of another jewelry store, Barry stepped behind Theresa, pushing her against the plate glass window as he pressed his semi-erect cock against her hands. With his free hand, Barry stroked and squeezed Theresa's exposed buttocks.

"Oh God," Theresa groaned, dangerously close to orgasm.

"As I told your mother; I can see where you get your beauty from by the way, as I told your mother, I have a very full load ahead of me," Barry said as they stood across the street from Lefty's BBQ. "So, I think it's about time to call it a night."

"Aw!" Theresa whined and Barry smiled as they scampered across the street toward his car.

Barry's car was not conducive for oral sex. But Barry unzipped his jeans and worked his thick manhood out. He again pinned Theresa's hands behind her back as she attempted to give her very first blow job. The few dates she'd been on, Theresa had not performed oral sex on her dates; she wasn't there for their pleasure.

"Hmm," Barry sighed in frustration as Theresa's teeth grazed his cock again.

Theresa screamed in her throat as Barry grabbed a hank of her hair and began to pull her head up and down. Her thighs rubbed together as Barry roughly used her mouth to masturbate with.

"Better swallow every drop," Barry grunted and began to pump a torrent of sperm into Theresa's mouth.

"Buckle up," Barry ordered as he released Theresa's hands and hair.

Theresa gulped in air, trying to catch her breath. Then she did as he ordered and buckled herself in.

"Open," Barry said, gently pushing on Theresa's knees.

Theresa spread her legs as wide as the cramped quarters would allow. She moaned as Barry reached over and unzipped her shorts.

"Oh Jesus," Theresa cried out as Barry's fingers expertly diddled her clitoris.

Barry made Theresa sit with her legs spread obscenely, shorts unzipped as he drove them to her home. In front of her home, Barry again diddled her to orgasm and Theresa moaned as he made her clean his finger with her mouth.

"Sunday, I'm taking my sailboat out on Lake Nicholson," Barry said as he opened his car door.

"Supposed to be a beautiful day for sailing," Barry said as he helped Theresa out of his car. "I'll pack a lunch and we'll spend the afternoon; I'll pick you up at eleven."

"Okay," Theresa agreed, legs wobbly from her overheated sensations.

"Aw! Nine forty; he get bored of you?" Cindy lightly teased as Theresa came into the house.

"Ohmygod no," Theresa gushed. "Sunday? He's taking me sailing."

"Theresa, you hated it when Brucie took you and Laci," Cindy laughed.

"That was Baba," Theresa dismissed the long ago and far away memory. "And he only did that so he could see Laci and me and Michelle in bikinis."

"And Mr. Duhon has no interest in seeing you in a bikini?" Cindy teased.

"You know what I mean," Theresa stammered, embarrassed.

"God, I really am losing weight," Theresa realized; the bikini had fit her perfectly when she was sixteen; it still fit her perfectly.

Theresa forced herself to go through the motions of the next few days. Look for work, help Claire and Jerry Jr. Help her mother. Try not to think of Barry, of his thick manhood, of his thick fingers touching her flesh. Try not to giggle and squeal when he called or texted her.

Sunday morning, Barry was a few minutes early and stood, quietly talking with Cindy about his thirty four foot schooner. He assured Cindy, whenever the sails were hoisted, life jackets must be on. No exceptions to the rule.

"I am an excellent swimmer, even have a merit badge from the Boy Scouts," Barry smiled. "And I wear a life jacket."

Barry's muscular legs stuck out of his swim trunks and his arms bulged in his wife beater shirt. Theresa's mouth felt dry as she looked at him. She wore one of Baba's old tee shirts, an old Racer X concert tee shirt over her red white and blue bikini. But the way Barry looked at her, Theresa felt undressed.

"No drinking," Cindy warned Theresa.

"No ma'am, there's absolutely no alcohol on my boat," Barry assured Cindy. "I love a good, ice cold beer, but not when sailing."

The Manacled Sweetheart was a sleek boat. Barry easily hoisted Theresa up and over into the cockpit of the boat. Unlocking the cabin door, Barry stowed their picnic basket and showed Theresa the galley, the forward bunk and the small bathroom. Then, in the dank quarters of the boat, Barry ordered Theresa to strip. She did so, fighting hard not to cover herself with her hands.

"Beautiful," Barry whispered, smiling.

Then Barry applied sunblock to every square inch of Theresa's flesh. He even had her bend forward, small hands on the bench seat as he applied the unguent to the furrow between her buttocks.

"Oh, ohmygod," Theresa moaned as Barry's fingers teased her tightly clenched anus.

Then he had her put her bikini on again. With a passionate kiss, Barry then bent to the task of putting Theresa's life jacket on. He kissed her again then pulled off his top and wiggled out of his swim trunks.

"Oh, oh, ohmygod," Theresa gasped and grunted as she applied the thick sunblock to Barry's flesh.

"All right, I think we're ready," Barry said and slipped on a pair of sunglasses.

There was a gentle breeze that helped propel the sailboat along. The lake was a bowl; the shallow part being twelve feet and the deepest part being sixty feet, so the waters were slightly choppy. Theresa did not eat any breakfast that morning, but still felt a little queasy for the first hour or so.

Barry found a small cove that was shaded by a cluster of trees. Dropping sail, he dropped the anchor and removed his life jacket. He then helped Theresa out of her life jacket and bikini top. He used her bikini top to bind her hands behind her back.

"Hungry" Barry asked, sitting on the cockpit's bench and pulling Theresa onto his lap.

"Yeah," Theresa said, realizing that she was hungry.

"Okay," Barry smiled and fed a bite of a ham and cheese sandwich to Theresa.

"Your nipples are very beautiful," Barry commented as Theresa swallowed. "I love how far they stick out."

"Oh," Theresa shuddered as Barry pinched down on her left nipple.

Barry fed Theresa the sandwich, then fed her bites of potato salad and cold pasta salad. He held a bottle of sparkling water for her to quench her thirst. When she indicated that she was done, Barry fed himself as he cradled Theresa in his arms.

"I love you," Theresa murmured, head leaning against his shoulder.

"Oh, my dear, that is so lovely," Barry crooned to her and softly kissed her lips. "But my dear, we, we're just getting started. Let me know if you still love me when this day is done."

He untied her hands and put her life jacket on again. They sailed a meandering course to the north of the lake, to another seclude cove. Again, Barry dropped sails and anchor and helped Theresa out of life jacket and bikini top and bottom. Gently, he tugged on Theresa's blonde hairs.

"My dear, may I make love to you?" Barry softly asked.

"Oh God yes," Theresa hissed, thrusting her pelvis against his fingers.

Barry took Theresa to the forward birth. Softly, he kissed her, holding her hands behind her back. Then he eased her onto her back.

"And..." Barry said, blindfolding the girl.

Theresa shuddered and rubbed her thighs together as Barry took her right wrist and looped a soft rope around her wrist. He then pulled the rope taut toward the foot of the bed.

"We need a safe word for you, my dear," Barry murmured as he affixed Theresa's left wrist to the left corner of the foot of the bunk. "A word that you can say when it all becomes too much for you and you want me to stop."

"I um, I, what about green tambourine?" Theresa suggested, trying to see him, despite the blindfold.