BSU: A Romance In Molly - Ch. 04

Chapter 4: The Good Stuff

"Yes-yes-yes-yes-yee-ees!" Molly's voice rose to a near hysterical scream. Every syllable and exhalation was pregnant with erotic exultation.

"Molly! Molly! Molly! Mol-ly! Aaarggh!" Martin yelled, in the throes of pleasure so great they felt very much like pain. He doubled over, pressing his chest to her back, pulsing and spasming so hard it was almost painful as she contracted around him. The lovers remained with their torsos lying upon the kitchen counter, too spent to disengage. The synthetic marble tabletop felt delightfully cool and hard against Molly's squashed breasts.

If only Mom could see us now, Molly thought.

The amorous lovers had discovered that Molly's greatest delight lay in getting taken from behind in places where memories that she held most sacred where attached. The best moment upstairs had been in the attic, where she had braced herself against a trunk containing her father's possessions. Downstairs, it had been when she was leaning against her desk in her study, where she had spent many happy hours with her nose buried in her books. Even the basement where her grandmother's possessions were stored had not escaped their notice. The kitchen was just a bureaucratic formality, a location that had to be visited for no other reason than that it happened to be in the same house.

"Now I understand why they call it the little death," Molly panted.

"Why who call it the little what?"

"The French. Little death."

"The who?"

"I took an elective on human culture. One of the fun tidbits of knowledge they taught us was about an old culture somewhere in the European region: the French. They called orgasms la petite mort, or the little death."

"I would have died for real if it had gone on much longer." Martin agreed, pulling out of her. His appendage flopped out limply, tickling Molly's insides along the way.

They lay on the couch, both completely naked. Molly plugged herself up with a tampon, checked her phone and read a paperback copy of The 48 Laws of Power, by Robert Greene. She went through it with a pencil in hand, humming quietly whenever she came across a particular difficult or seemingly contradictory point or caveat. Martin went through his social media posts and watched Molly work. He caught himself smiling and forced himself to focus his attention fully on his phone, least Molly think he had gone completely insane for her -- which was true anyways.

Molly understood immediately the expression on his face, and with a private, knowing smile of her own, read on with a smug, self-satisfied air. There was something of the lioness in her smile, which disturbed Martin slightly. Did he truly fathom the depths of her desires? Could he hope to explore them and return unscathed? He tried to ignore the mild soreness in his loins and focus on his phone.

Tara had sent Martin only two messages: The first was delivered at about nine P.M. the night before, and said 'Enjoy yourselves. I've told Amy that you will not be back tonight.' The second arrived early this morning and read 'I am taking Amy on a three-day-long mother-daughter retreat. Don't break anything ;)'

The thought of his own mother not only sanctioning, but also heartily approving of the utter debauch that had taken place and cackling with glee at the coming desecration of their home was too much for Martin to bear. He made sure the 'new message' badges were cleared before locking his phone.

"So," Molly said, as though the idea had just come out of the blue, "do you think we could make love in every room of your house too?"

"Unlike you, I actually have to think of my family. We almost brought your house down with all the banging around and screaming."

"Oh, they're be out of town." Molly said, then clapped her hand over her mouth a moment too late.

"So you did tell my mom! Molly, how could you?"

"Now, now, love, let's not cry over spilt milk. Besides..." Molly got down on her hands and knees, crawling over to Martin with a look in her eye turned Martin's low-level unease into full-blown panic. "I'll make it up to you."

Martin stood and held his palms up placatingly. "T-There's no need to -- I forgive you! I forgive you! Please, it's still sen...sitive-- fuuuuuck...." Martin's mouth opened as wide as it would go and locked in place. His body tensed, spasmed, and gave up fighting the ruthless suction of Molly's lips.

"Wuv you too," Molly said around a mouthful of Martin's cock. By now, he was in a realm beyond pain and pleasure, a place where both were intertwined so closely they were one and the same. All Martin was capable of producing was a mindless moan which signified only that certain nerve-endings of his were being stimulated in a particular manner.

Martin burned every detail of the moment into his mind: the tilt of Molly's neck, her large, slightly convex forehead, the erotically gratifying sway of her full, yet shapely breasts, her sly, mischievous smile as she looked at his manhood from a different angle and thought of yet another trick to spice things up, the glint in her eyes as she reached down with just the tip of her tongue...

Without realizing it, Martin had sat back down on the couch and splayed his legs outwards. Molly was between them, enjoying every moment and every inch of him. How long this sensual purgatory lasted Martin did not know, but fortunately, there was an end to everything, and after what seemed like forever, he felt it approaching. Martin reached down with his hands and ran his fingers through Molly's flame-red hair.

"Molly.... Oh God. Molly... I'm gonna..."

Swift as lightning, Molly stood, removed her tampon, and climbed on top of him. She was already so wet and ready for him that he slid in without the least trouble.

"Yes, Martin, yes!" She moaned, clenching every muscle within. "Give me everything."

Martin hugged her and let out a long, grating cry. He quivered and squeezed and heaved and spasmed within her -- all that effort for a pathetic few drops that Molly barely felt.

"Mol...ly..." Martin sagged against her.

Molly licked his ear playfully. "Come now, love, what happened to all those oceans, worlds, and realms of desire that you said you had for me? Are they already dry? Were those worlds and realms empty?" She gyrated her hips atop him, squeezing and moving Martin's rapidly deflating member about and nearly making him scream.

"G-give me five..."

Molly mined looking at an imaginary watch. "Right. Your time begins... now."

"Five hours."

Molly looked horrified. "So it's true! You men can't be trusted." She shook her head and clicked her tongue.

"Don't believe everything you see in the movies."

Molly climbed off him, resealed her entrance with a fresh tampon, and laid her head in Martin's lap, his flaccid member inches from her face. He widened his eyes and raised his hands as though Molly was a villainous bandit in one of the old films, and he was a hapless cashier who wore pearl earrings and had a much doted-upon grandson. Molly shook her head and hefted her book. He mimed wiping his sweaty brow in relief.

"I've got something that'll get you back in action, but I think it's best to wait until you're not feeling sore anymore."

"Take your time, I'm not in a hurry."

Molly put her book down to look Martin in the eyes. For one terrifying moment, he thought she was going to start on a new oral campaign, but she merely turned her head and licked the length of his penis, greedy devouring his reaction out of the corner of one of her eyes. Her smile broadened as he hissed involuntarily. She tasted and smelled the physical evidence of the comingling of herself and his seed on his flaccid member, prompting her to spread her legs and dip a finger into her love-canal.

"Careful, honey. Don't sound too relieved. We women are patient, but that doesn't mean that you get to treat us like doormats."

"Duly noted."

"I think you owe me a little more than that."

"I'm sorry, Molly."

"Awwh, look at you, already wrapped around my finger and humping it even though we haven't even lived together for a full day. No, I don't want an apology. I want a good, hot, fuck."

"Isn't that what I've been giving you?"

"You've only paid about..." Molly inspected her nails. "A tenth of what you owe me."

"I'll get around to paying it all. Eventually."

"I'm sure you will. With my assistance."

Molly winked at him. Martin found himself unable to bear the weight of his own curiosity.

"Molly, what exactly do you have planned?"

"Sex."

"Yeah, I figured that out."

"Lots of sex."

"Mind trying to be a little more specific?"

"Lots of wild, butt-grabbing, flesh-slapping-together, name-calling sex."

"That's the goal you have in mind, not the plan."

"If I tell you, you've got to promise to go through with it right now."

Martin swallowed. "I am so going to regret this. Fine, I promise."

"You're going to regret that you said you were going to regret this." Molly kissed the head of his penis and sat up. "Come on."

Martin stayed seated for a moment, watching Molly walk up to her room and admiring the spectacular sway and jiggle of her bottom. He soon followed, his sex still limp, but nonetheless nearly as excited as he had been they were about to make love in her room for the first time.

"Do you remember what they told you about Shifter pheromones at the MAHAD?"

"Uh-huh."

Molly knelt by her bed, pulled out a briefcase-sized silver box from under it, and pressed each of her fingers, one by one, to a touchpad there. It glowed green and buzzed once. "Press your fingers here too."

The box responded in the same manner. Martin's fingerprints had been uploaded into the government's citizen tracking system since day one, and they were updated every six months at school, and whenever Carla came to visit. The box's always-online Internet connection was not just used to validate the identity of those who tried to open it; any attempt to force it open or take it offline would bring a SWAT team crashing down upon its location.

Inside the box were a handheld atomizer and several ampoules filled with a clear fluid. The inner lid of the box flickered to life with a countdown and instructions detailing how to use the ampoules and atomizer. The atomizer and ampoules were not to be moved more than twenty feet away from the box, and were to be replaced within two hours after the box was opened. If the lid was not shut after the components were replaced, a reminder to comply with protocol would sound. Failure on the users' part to comply with any and all regulations was considered a Federal offence. Molly snapped an ampoule into place in the atomizer's slot. The device lit up, glowing with blue lights along its sides.

"What is that?" Martin said. "Looks like the good stuff. Some sort of performance enhancer?"

"Something like that. Just sit back and relax, Martin." Molly got Martin to lie down on his back on her bed. She got out some velvet-lined cuffs from her wardrobe and linked Martin's arms to one of the bedposts above his head.

Molly stood by her bed over Martin, atomizer in hand and a hand on her hip like one of the human nurses in the old films. "You ready for what's to come? There's no turning back once I start this."

Martin smiled. Even completely naked, she was still the same, vivacious girl that he had fallen in love with -- more so, in fact. "Molly, I was born ready."

"It might hurt a little, but only at first. You sure you want to do this?"

Martin swallowed. "Absolutely. Now tell me what's in that ampoule."

"Shifter pheromones."

Martin's eyes widened. "Molly! No!" He started struggling with his restraints and found that they had indeed, done a good job of securing him to Molly's bed.

"What did you expect it was? Floral perfume? Don't worry, Martin; it isn't the pheromones that turn you into a giant-dicked monster. You have to have actual sex with a Shifter for that to happen."

"I know, but still --"

"But still, it works. Please don't deny me this, Martin." Molly licked her lips and reached down with one hand to her pussy's lips. "I want to feel what one of them feels when you take her. I want to be your first in that way too."

"All right, Molly. So long as this isn't illegal."

"It isn't. The government logo's inside the box." Molly cleared her throat. "Plan options, please."

The box beeped. The inner lid displayed:

Plan options

1. Mild: 1 shot

2. Mild-Moderate: 2-3 shots

3. Moderate: 4 shots

4. Moderate-Intense: 5-8 shots

5. Intense: 9-15 shots

6. Ultra-Intense: 16-20 shots

7. Extreme: Full ampoule

"We'll take 'Extreme', please," Molly said.

The words Extreme: Full ampoule flashed golden. "Both users must confirm the selection of the Extreme plan," the box said.

"Extreme plan selection confirmed," Molly replied.

"Extreme plan selection confirmed," Martin said.

The lights on the atomizer turned green. "Hold nozzle inside male user's nose and depress the trigger. The male user may breathe normally through his nose as the atomizer deploys the required dosage," the box said.

Molly slid the atomizer's tip inside Martin's right nostril and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Martin inhaled to say something. The atomizer hissed briefly, sending microsized droplets of Shifter pheromones into Martin's nose.

"Fuck!" Martin hissed, and held his breath. Nothing happened for a few nerve-wracking seconds, and then he groaned as he felt blood rush to his sore and sensitive cock. It was painfully hard within moments, and Martin was suddenly feeling compelled to breathe in and out through his nostrils. Just being in Molly's presence made him want to hyperventilate.

Gasp, hiss, gasp, hiss.

Molly watched, wide-eyed, as the level of fluid in the ampoule shrank. Martin's pupils were wide and dilated. The more pheromone he was given, the quicker and deeper his breathing became.

"Molly," Martin grunted. "God, you look so beautiful -- "

Yet another series of frenzied inhalations followed. Martin's muscles bunched up, every cord and vein showing. Martin was never anywhere near resembling a muscular jock, but anyone looking at him now might have been forgiven for thinking he was pretty close to getting into his school's weightlifting or gymnastics team.

"Grrngh. Molly. Let go. Enough. Want you." Martin started tugging at his restraints when the fluid in the ampoule reached the halfway mark. His eyes alternated between hers and her smoth neck, her delightfully perky breasts, her feminine hips, and the most sacred of sacred parts between her shapely legs. Molly whined in desire as her bed creaked, trying to imagine what Martin would be like by the time the ampoule was finished.

"Molly. Fuck. Need fuck," Martin panted when the ampoule was three-quarters empty.

"Oh, Martin, me too," Molly groaned.

"Grrgh. Molly. Grrgh. Molly..." The vial was almost empty now. Martin writhed and snarled like an animal. His world had shrunk to just two things: His tremendous erection and the tantalizingly close Female Presence that he wanted to fuck his seed into.

The atomizer beeped, and so did the box. Molly replaced the atomizer and empty ampoule in their designated places before closing the kit and sliding it back under the bed.

Martin had gone ominously still and silent. Molly hurriedly unlocked his handcuffs and reached out a gently inquiring hand to touch him on the shoulder--

"Raargh!" Martin's inarticulate roar filled the whole house. He grabbed Molly and threw her onto the bed like a rag doll. Before she was even aware that Martin had overpowered her, he had spread her legs and pinned her shoulders to the bed. His hips blurred as they made five quick thrusts at her in rapid succession with his dribbling cock, all of them missing wildly and leaving slick trails of precum on her hips and the insides of her thigh.

"Fuuuuck! Fuuuuck! Molly! Fuuuck!" Martin screamed. The mindless beast that he had become finally seemed to gain enough intelligence to look down, spread his prey's legs as far as they would go, and aim a single, decisive thrust right into her already-wet opening.

"Oh yes!" Molly screamed. Now it was her turn to moan and cry out mindlessly as Martin jackhammered into her like a piledriver on a speeded-up film. His cock felt half again as large inside her, and every vein and feature stood out like never before. The ridge on its head tore through her insides like a bludgeon of pleasure. Molly's legs crossed behind him, wanting to hold her bringer of carnal joy in place forever.

Martin's rod was a wonderfully hard nail, sharp with pleasure. Molly was the softest and most accepting piece of wood in the world, and Martin was a huge, huge hammer that flattened his love again and again and again.

At some point, Molly lost count of her own orgasms and started chanting Martin's name worshipfully. She felt Martin orgasm for the fifth or sixth time, had a mini orgasm herself. She squealed as his dick popped out briefly, dredging up gobs of white semen that ran down her buttocks in hot rivulets to stain her bed. He made even more of a mess slamming it back in.

Shadows shifted and moved in the background. The light trickling through the shut curtains sharpened. Molly's mouth gaped as far as it could humanly go, abandoning all restraint. She shouted her pleasure to the world, announced it with animal cries, and abandoned all thought of civilized behavior. On and on Martin went like a force of nature, like a mythical beast that knew no fatigue or limit to its depraved appetite.

By the time Martin arched his back as he released his final orgasm, howling and pushing Molly as deep as she would go into the mattress, she was slick with sweat and delirious from her sensory overload. Her legs and arms stayed wrapped around him as he slid into unconsciousness atop her. Molly herself fell into a deep, satisfied slumber, still murmuring "Martin... Yes Martin... Martin... Yes Martin..."

Betty Jones hummed an upbeat tune as her car pulled to the side of the road in front of her home. In the backseat, her son Roger played with his army men and fighter aircraft.

"Boom-boom! Pew, pew! Whoosh! Aargh! Sergeant Jones, I'm hit! Mom, we need MEDEVAC! MED-E-VAC! Now!"

"We're on our way," Betty said. She reached back and plucked the 'injured' soldier from the backseat, making the helicopter sounds that she had heard in the movies. "Chukka-chukka-chukka-chukka-"

Beep-Beep! Beep-Beep!

"Oh no, Sarge! They've launched interceptor missiles! Take cover!" Roger bent as far forward as his seat would allow him. Betty turned back around to the front of the car, where an urgent-priority call was coming in from the MAHAD (Massachusetts Human Affairs Department).

"Roger, be quiet," Betty said.

"Shh... they'll hear you if you breathe too loudly," Roger stage-whispered, clapped his hand over his mouth, and said no more.

"Betty Jones? Betty Jones?" The female voice coming over the speaker was cool, cultured, and had the barest trace of a foreign accent (was it from somewhere in the European region? Oceania perhaps? Geography had not been Betty's strongest subject).

"Speaking," Betty said.

"Please get an earphone in so I can communicate with you discreetly. I am Xenna two hundred and thirteen, eighty-five AFF, house Alpha, personnel number en--a--dash--two one nine zero five eight four three eight."

Betty got out her government-issued Bluetooth earphone and plugged it in. Xenna's voice sounded even clearer in her ear, like unadulterated, hand-crafted wine or a live performance of Beethoven.