Blast From The Past Ch. 05

"Answer me, Karen. Are you going to let these men fuck you? Are you going bend over and spread your legs and let them push their cocks inside of you? Are you going to suck one off while the other fucks you, getting him hard while he waits his turn? Are you going to be their whore?"

His words cut off when William comes, pulling out and spraying over her ass and thighs, long strings of come marring her perfection. This was his intention, of course. To destroy the fantasy, to forever alter his perception of Karen as a goddess, as the one woman of which he could never have his fill.

When Karen doesn't speak he looks at the men reflected in the mirror and gives an imperceptible nod. William knows their names but their names don't matter; they were asked to be at this diner, in this bathroom, and they agreed not to ask questions. One comes to stand beside Karen at the sink, cock bobbing, brushing against her blonde hair. "Suck his cock, Karen," William orders. "Turn your head and open your mouth."

William's voice comes from beside her, next to the man whose cock she can see through the veil of her hair. She has little left to lose, she thinks, bent over in a truck stop restroom, covered in come, her most private areas exposed to complete strangers. Slowly Karen's hand rises, tucking her hair behind her ear. She turns her head as instructed, opening her mouth for a stranger's cock, eyes on William, her gaze filled with contempt. The stranger seizes the opportunity and pushes himself between her lips, eyes closing as he settles in for the ride. Karen doesn't know if it's stranger number two or three pushing into her used, tender pussy, but it no longer matters. She is playing a role, she is the fuck toy William wants her to be, she is a woman who spreads herself in truck stops, who follows orders, who cares so little for anybody that anybody who cares to have her may.

They change places, as William had promised, the one in mouth sliding into her pussy to fuck her before pulling out and covering her ass with his come. The one from her pussy pulled away the condom before sinking into her mouth, coming in her throat, making her swallow her second load of the night. William stands by, looking on dispassionately, as the third one turns Karen around and pins her to the wall with his body, hooking her knees over his thick arms and pummelling her with his cock as she takes and takes and takes. He eventually pulls out and comes in her mouth too, and when Karen finally rises, she is the only one who hasn't come, and she's ashamed to realize that she still wants to.

"Are you done?" she asks William. There is nothing in her voice to betray her feelings.

"Ask them," he instructs, nodding at the strangers.

"Are you done?" she repeats, not sparing them a glance.

One looks at William. "You said we could have her ass?"

William swallows. "Yes."

The stranger looks at Karen. "Bend over. Pull your ass apart."

Karen wonders who she is as she follows his instructions. When he rolls on a condom and pushes into her ass, she wonders how she can go to work in the morning as though she is the same person. How she could go along with a week of sexual blackmail and think that she could be fine at the end of it. How someone who has helped her find herself could make her feel so lost.

The assfucking is fast and hard, but she has had enough practice now that it is only vaguely uncomfortable. When the second man takes his turn, and then the third, her anus is stretched and gaping and she feels almost nothing at all. When they have all come she asks again if they are done. This time they don't reply, turning and walking out as though this were an everyday occurrence. Karen straightens, her dress falling to her knees. If not for the come making it stick to her ass and the back of her thighs, she would look very nearly presentable.

William looks at her. "Did you like it?"

"I don't know."

"What don't you know?"

"I don't think I'm a whore. I don't know why you're trying to convince me I am."

William doesn't answer for a long time. He's not trying to convince Karen that she's a whore; he's trying to convince himself. You can't love a whore, can you?

"Show me your pussy."

Karen lifts her dress; she's beginning to wonder why she even wore one.

"Are you sore?"

"A little."

"Pull your cunt apart. Show me your clit."

Karen obeys; she has no secrets left.

William strides toward her and Karen drops the skirt and stumbles back until her shoulder blades hit the wall. William grabs fistfuls of her skirt and presses his knee between her thighs, spreading her legs. "Do you like this position?" he demands. "Legs spread for whoever asks?"

Karen doesn't answer. He pushes his hand between her legs but doesn't penetrate her. "It made me hard watching them fuck you," William whispers, rubbing her clit roughly. "I liked watching them fuck you in the ass. I liked that you let them. I liked seeing your ass gape from someone else's cock. At the beginning of the week you were an anal virgin; now you'll take it from anyone."

Karen's eyes have drifted shut, her breath comes quiet and soft, focused only on the impending orgasm.

"I like that you had four cocks in you today, but the only person who can make you come is me. That the only person you want to come for is me."

Her eyes flutter open at the words; they watch each other closely as the orgasm sharpens. "Think about sucking my cock for an audience, Karen. Think about your neighbours watching me touch your pussy. Think about showing your cunt to the diner, swallowing my cock in the bathroom. Think about letting those nice men fuck you, asking them if they wanted more, then bending over and pulling your ass apart when they weren't finished. Think about your gaping asshole. That's what I'm going to think about. What a whore you are. What secrets your pretty little sundress hides. How those nasty thoughts make you come so hard you can't stand it."

And then Karen does come, knees buckling so her weight is pinned on William's hand between her thighs, gripping her tightly, thumb working itself feverishly over her swollen clit and her well-used pussy. Her head falls back weakly, lips parting on a sigh as everything goes slack except her cunt. It spasms violently, gushing its juices into William's waiting hand.

He holds her up, keeps her steady, waits for the final waves to pass and for Karen to come back to herself, eyes opening and gradually focusing on his face. "Okay?" he asks, instantly regretting the word since it suggests that there is a crack in his uncaring façade. "Get washed up."

Karen wets some paper towel and cleans herself up as best she can. She does not know what to say. Now that the moment has passed she does not want to go back into the diner, does not want to cross the parking lot to the car and be on display as William puts the key in the ignition. She wants to be away from here, away from this truck stop, back on the highway, wrapped in the security of the night. No one knows about this, she tells herself. These men don't count, William doesn't count. This week is a secret. You will get answers to questions you didn't have the courage to ask, and if you don't like them you don't need to repeat them.

Because he's a weak bastard, William gives Karen his jacket, wrapping her in it and tucking her under his arm as he strides down the hall, steering her out of the diner as she hides her head in his chest. She sinks low in her seat when they reach the car and William starts it up quickly, pulling out of the parking lot, tires squealing as they hit the highway.

He wasn't lying when he said he liked watching the men fuck Karen. He liked watching them strip away the inhibitions and the preconceived notions Karen had of herself; the idea that a respectable realtor like Karen Roberts would never allow herself to be gangbanged in a truck stop bathroom. But he realizes now that sharing her doesn't put distance between them the way he had hoped; that exposing her weakness meant exposing his own. If he truly didn't care he wouldn't be the one to drive her home, wrap her in his jacket, ask her if she's cold when he sees that she's shivering.

Karen huddles inside William's jacket and watches the taillights race past them. The ride home takes forever and she is exhausted. When she was the confused eighteen-year-old looking for money for college and trying to find her way in the big city, she made some videos she thought would never resurface. She had gone to expensive clubs with experienced men and done things she tried to forget about. But all she had really succeeded in doing was suppressing questions and urges she was mistakenly ashamed of. Fifteen years later she finds herself in a similar, exaggerated position, playing a role someone else has written, this time without the camera. But now she is old enough to understand the consequences and even the benefits of her actions. Karen Roberts is not a whore. She doesn't want to be gangbanged again, but she had often wondered what it felt like, and now she knows. William, however, does not. She sees in his face the concern he tries to hide, the questions he is afraid to ask. He wonders if he has broken her.

She had been furious, initially, that he would display her like that, attempt to humiliate her. But now she sees that his actions are a lame attempt to spare his feelings. Karen's weakness is the tapes he is using to blackmail her; this they both know. But William's weakness is Karen, and until this evening, only one of them knew it.

He parks in her driveway but does not turn off the car. The night's charade is over and Karen opens her own door, climbing out before pausing to look back in at William, face hidden in shadow. "I had a nice time," she tells him, tone indiscernible.

William's smile is wry as he hands her the promised videotape. "Maybe we can go out again some time."

Karen shuts the door, swallowed whole by the night. "Maybe."