Cherry's Revenge Ch. 01bymightypinkdms©
I have recently came back to this website after several years absence and am in the process of updating, rewriting and adding new stories to my author name. Please, if you take the time to read this and/or get pleasure from reading this -- let me know! It keeps me motivated to write more content. I love reading your comments and replying when I get time. Don't forget to rate! Thanks everyone -- MPD xx
I never wanted this to happen.
The whole fling started about a week ago; a clichéd, chance encounter with his best friend. Despite spending the majority of the week wishing that I could disappear from the face of the earth, I had managed to drag myself to a local convenience store for a few essentials to go with some self-indulgent luxuries. I deserved to be pampered, I thought angrily, especially taking in to consideration recent events. Before long, I found myself looking at the latest DVD releases, eyeing the candy-fluff films full of the love and romance with a weird mixture of contempt and longing. It wasn't until I picked up a mass-produced DVD off the shelf that I saw him enter the store out of the corner of my eye. Damien, I sighed to myself, trying to position myself out of his line of vision by slipping further down the aisle. Damien was the best friend of my very, very recent ex-boyfriend. I was - or rather had been -- irrevocably in love with Mark; but after two years of sickly-sweet text messages and occasional hot nights in his wooden-framed bed, it had all come to a shuddering halt.
It was the usual, pathetic, hackneyed crap that I had heard so many times before: something about needing a break from the norm, about needing his own space again. Having seen the recent messages on his phone however, I noticed that it was perhaps something to do with pretty Miana, a petite secretary in his office who'd been sharing provocative pictures with him. Heartbroken wasn't the word for it: I was here in a public place with my face naked and my dark hair limp and greasy around my face. How could I possibly get over the love of my life when I was so caught up in our mentally romanticised past? So seeing Damien, delicious as he was, in a shop where I was sobbing over some romantic DVD blurb...well, it wasn't my idea of fun. Hiding behind the tall DVD stand, I hoped he wouldn't see me, but I knew with the luck I was having that he probably already had. After a few minutes -- and just as I started to breathe a sigh of relief - I felt an ominous, gentle tap on my shoulder.
"Cherry?" asked the warm baritone, and I sighed inside.
"Hey Damien," I said, trying to hide the exasperation in my voice as I eyed his look of curiosity with bitter resentment. So what if I looked awful: I was going through a break up and I was allowed to look awful if I wanted to.
"How are you holding up?" he said softly, pushing my hair gently out of my eyes as he peered anxiously into their dark wells. Don't pretend you care, I thought irritably as I took a step backwards, I know you're just going to go running back to Mark as soon as you leave the store and tell him how rubbish I was looking.
"Fine," I said coldly, ignoring my inner dialogue and trying to avoid his searching eye contact. Even though I hated him for just being Mark's friend and ally, I'd always had a bit of a crush on him. His gorgeous, bright blonde hair glowed in the fluorescent lights like an alternative, spiky halo; his bright, green eyes twinkled with child-like inquisitiveness. Although he was undeniably good-looking in a cute, school-boy way, his broad, muscular body and relationship track-record belied his innocence. He was a stud: the type who slept with women and dumped them the next day without as much as a courtesy phone call. Usually I detested this type of pig-headed, obnoxious, chauvinistic behaviour yet I couldn't help being so undeniably attracted to him. I tried hard to push these burgeoning thoughts aside and, with renewed determination, started to turn away from him.
"Hey," he called after me, "Hey!"
"What?" I shouted back, already closing in on an empty till.
"I was wondering," he said loudly, walking quickly to catch up with me, "I was wondering if you'd like to go for a drink, or something. Like at the weekend or something..." He trailed off and I narrowed my eyes.
"Why?" I said, exasperated, echoing my thoughts from earlier, "So you can go back and report back to Mark about how nasty I'm being about him behind his back?" I slung the DVD and huge bottle of coke onto the counter viciously and he winced, his eyebrows knotting furiously above his startled eyes.
"No," he said, "It's not like that. I just, well, thought you'd like to go out for a drink. Saturday," he added for clarification. For a few moments, I stared into his beautiful green eyes and weighed up the situation, my mind whirring quickly. A seed of deviousness germinated eagerly in my mind: if I could sleep with his best friend, I thought slyly, that would really piss Mark off. I knew Mark hated and envied Damien's womanising ways and it would kill him to know I'd fallen so easily into his arms.
"Well," I replied, acting overly coy, "I suppose I could come out for one drink." He grinned and nodded happily, grabbing my small hand lightly with his own and kissing it gently.
"I won't let you down, gorgeous," he said confidently with a large, overdone wink. Without so much as a thought to Mark, I coquettishly winked back and gently bit my bottom lip. Speedily, he made his way back out of the store without so much as looking back. I wondered openly whether he'd tell Mark he'd seen me; well, I reasoned, if he was sensible he definitely wouldn't tell Mark that he was going out with me.
That night, as I lay between my thin, silken covers in my flimsy underwear, I imagined the two of them fighting over me. Brunette against blonde, brown eyes against green, tall against broad...I imagined them touching me, stroking my bare skin with their masculine hands, kissing my tanned neck with unsatisfied hunger that only I could sate.
It wasn't long before these images switched solely to Damien; partially because I no longer wanted Mark and mostly because I was curious as to what Damien's body was like. I'd seen him in swimwear, and although he was broad, he was incredibly toned, and when he hugged me in greeting I could feel the untold strength he had. Would he take advantage of me on Saturday night? More importantly, did I want him to? These questions hung pensively in the air, stubbornly yet silently unanswered; deep-down, however, I knew what I desired.
Switching thoughts, I thought about what I already knew about him. My close friend and flat-mate Jenny had already had the privilege of spending one lust-filled weekend with him -- in her words he was an animal in the sack. He expertly knew how to make a woman climax, over and over again if the mood took him. Sometimes I had struggled to come while lying in Mark's arms, and although Mark was no less than average in size, he hadn't the skills nor the knowledge to really know what to do with his enthusiastic manhood. Needless to say, he had always come, and he hadn't really bothered much about trying to do the same for me. Would Damien be larger than Mark? Would he hurt me by playing too hard, as I'd heard he was sometimes wont to do? Right at that moment I didn't care; my skin was prickling to be touched and fondled; I gently stroked my inner thighs as I imagined what he would do to me. I imagined his deft and expert hands; so alike to Mark's in size in shape, fingering me into an oblivion. Pretending his fingers were my own, I rubbed my wet slit tentatively in the expert way that only we girls knew how. Before long, I was writhing in the bed sheets, my slick skin sticking to them as I brought myself to a heady climax, eventually falling back into a dreamless, semi-satisfied sleep.
So Saturday came, and I had made a point of looking my best. My whole outfit had been selected to emphasise my sexiness: the skirt caught me sharply at mid-thigh, tightly wrapping across my curvy backside and flaring temptingly at the hem; the strappy top clinging sensuously to my small breasts in order to give me a fantastic hour-glass silhouette. Underneath, I wore the best underwear I had ever bought: a beautiful, silky bra that framed my golden skin; my buttocks left bare, divided sensuously by a tiny g-string that sat sexily across my hips. I had even put on lacy stockings and suspenders for that added thrill of sexiness -- these were barely covered by my short skirt. I tried to tell my nerves that nothing would happen but secretly I hoped the opposite. Making sure that the image of my bare face would be forgotten from his mind, I vamped up my make up with smoky eyes and blood red lipstick. Everything about me from my wavy hair to my patent leather stilettos screamed sex, and deep down I knew it, relishing my appearance with delight. Before I knew it, a loud rap came upon my door and I ran to it, expectant of Damien's imminent arrival. I wasn't disappointed: there I was confronted by a huge bunch of flowers and the best looking guy I'd seen in a long while.
"Hey," he said almost shyly, and I grinned.
"Hi Damien," I said quietly, ignoring his mouth opening and closing rapidly, "Where are we going?" He laughed.
"Right now, I don't think we can go anywhere with you looking like that!" Immediately, the smile froze on my face. Had I misjudged the situation? I looked down at my outfit and blushed a fiery shade of red.
"What do you mean?" I muttered, trying to avoid his eyes.
"You look so hot, Cherry..." he groaned, "Are you wearing suspenders too?"
"If you're good," I teased, smiling as I realised I had thoroughly drawn in the mate and swatted away his wandering palms, "I might let you find out..." He groaned loudly again, pushing his hands behind his back to refrain from touching me again and I laughed loudly, taking his arm as we walked to a nearby pub.
The problem with local pubs is that they are local. As we took our drinks to the table-clothed booth at the side of the pub, I noticed that Mark was here too. My heart sank strangely in my chest, but - remaining resolute - I refused to feel belittled by his presence. Damien, on the other hand, was charming, taking my hand and telling me anecdotes from his job as an electrician and various lads' nights out. I laughed where I deemed it appropriate, yet I couldn't help watching Mark anxiously at the same time. Who was he waiting for? His face suddenly broke into a smile, and I traced his eyes to the entrance: Miana. My sudden intense breathlessness at her appearance had me floored. How dare he bring that little bitch to my pub? My face became thunderous as I watched them flirt at the bar, both unaware of my presence. Just as I was about to walk out of the pub, I felt a warm hand on my leg.
"You're not listening to me, are you?" asked Damien sadly, following my eyes to the unwelcome couple.
"I'm sorry but..." I gestured to the bar, "I wasn't expecting him to be here with her."
"Hey, forget about them," he soothed, patting my knee gently and sliding his hand up and down my outer thigh. Slowly, his strong fingers moved to inside my knee and -- hidden by the table cloth and the booth, slid tantalisingly up the inside of my leg. His touch sent little frissons of delight straight to my groin; my attention immediately switched wholly back to him. His fingers traced mesmerising little circles across my skin, and emboldened by the privacy I had, I couldn't help but move my knees slightly apart. His fingers continued their journey, playing with the lace edging of my stockings and stroking me softly, teasingly just out of reach of my tiny, silken underwear.
"That's better," he said softly, continuing to excite me digitally as he spoke softly in my ear, gently nipping my lobe. I couldn't help but shudder with desire as his rich voice continued with its melodic undertone. "Now as I've been a very good boy, and a charming date, I think it's about time that I got something I wanted too..." His fingers slid a little higher, a slight, sly smile creeping on his soft lips.
"Oh," I said, with mock suspicion and barely surpressing a whimper, "And what would that be?" His fingers stroked the thin barrier that kept his touch from my throbbing centre, causing my underwear to moisten in anticipation.
"A little knowledge," he said, his fingers stroking the flimsy edges of my underwear as my legs widened unconsciously with anticipation, "I wanted to find out how wet you are..." I groaned again, this time my sound audible and his fingers trembled in response. Before he delved further to seek the answer to his question, a shadow lay across the table.
"Hey Damien, Cherry," said the squeaky, high-pitched voice, cutting through the sexual tension like a knife. "I thought I saw you over here, I was telling Mark I thought it was you, but he said no it wasn't possible..."
"Shut up Miana," said Mark neutrally, stepping alongside her. Miana stopped immediately, hurt crossing her small, grey eyes; I almost felt sorry for her. He searched my face for signs of sadness or regret, and I made sure he found none. "So, how are you doing Cherry?" I opened my mouth but no words came out: I hadn't expected them to come over. I gulped, unsure of what to say. Gently, I felt Damien's reassuring hands once again stroking from his retreat at the top of my stockings. His face remained neutral under his best friend's suspicious gaze, although I could still sense the trace of smile in his eyes. I took strength in the lightly caressing hands, and spoke.
"I'm fine Mark, but I'm actually on a date right now, so if you don't mind."
"What...you?" he spluttered, "And Damien?"
"Yes me, and Damien. I always had a crush on him you know," I looked fondly over at Damien, and he took my hand with his free one, kissing it gently.
"Mark," whined Miana, "I need a drink." She pulled anxiously on his sleeve, trying to break his intent concentration and disbelief from the two of us.
"Yeah, well - we're going Mi," he said, stomping out of the bar. Miana looked bewildered at his sudden departure, looking briefly at us before quickly following in his wake like a lost puppy. I laughed gleefully, and Damien smiled lecherously at me.
"So lace stockings, hey?" he said smoulderingly, "And what other surprises do you have under there for me?" His hands were now on the bare stretch of skin between my thong and my stockings, and I whimpered silently. "Ready to answer my question?"
"Well," I breathed heavily, as his hands stealthily made their way back up my inner thigh, "If you keep going you'll find out." I opened my legs wider again, leaning back on the soft leather of the booth chair. Although I felt self-conscious in this busy pub, I was so hot that I couldn't stop him touching me now. He mouthed his approval as he met the now-wet material that was barely covering my hardened clit. Gently, with a flick of a finger he moved the silky fabric aside and pushed one finger urgently into my dripping hole. I bit my lip to stop me screaming as his broad finger penetrated me slowly again and again; my nipples hardening visibly under my low-cut top. He closed his eyes, moaning openly before removing his sodden finger from me and moved slightly further away. Disappointed, I closed my legs and watched him shudder in his chair. Looking at me, he took his wet, coated finger and sucked it tenderly.
"You taste beautiful," he said, licking his lips, "Please take me home with you, right now?" I smiled, amazed at being desired and by such a handsome man, and jumped out of the booth. I had never felt so turned on and wanted in my life.
"Now?" I said, teasing, "Well, right now, I'm going to the toilet and taking my thong off as it's soaked. Then we can go back to my flat..."
"I have to walk the whole way back with you, knowing you have no underwear on?" he complained jokingly, as I nodded my assent, and he groaned once more.
"Please - hurry up..."
As we climbed up the steps to my front door, his brazen hands were already reaching under my skirt, and -- failing that - grabbed at my uncovered crotch through my skirt, his hands stroking me urgently through the clothing. I laughed, struggling to get my key in the door as he eventually pulled up my skirt enough to fondle my bare buttocks. I slapped his hands away jokingly, giggling as we fell through the doorway.
"Do I have to be quiet?" he asked quietly, his trousers bulging at the crotch.
"Can you be?" I said teasingly, raising my eyebrow at him as I pulled my underwear from my handbag, "Don't worry, my flatmates are out visiting friends this weekend." Wantonly, I tossed him my wet g-string. He sniffed it eagerly before grunting with desire.
"You're amazing," he said, pulling his shirt over his head as he gazed into my eyes, "I've never felt this horny before." With one swift step, he closed the gap between us and I stroked his velvety skin, feeling the muscles rippling beneath his stomach. I pulled him closer as he pulled my top off, revealing my pale bra. "May I?" He said; and with a slight nod in agreement, he pulled the bra off in practiced ease, my small, pert breasts peaking excitedly to attention. He took no time to nuzzle them, kissing me tentatively before pulling at the tender nipples with his teeth as I shuddered in delight, tugging at his spiky blond hair. His bites and sucks and licks were furious but careful; he was slowly driving me to ecstasy with his gentle, wet tongue. I moaned repeatedly, my voice matched by his stronger, animalistic grunts.
Before I has even thought about touching his ever-growing penis, he picked me up and threw me lightly onto the communal sofa, tugging my tiny mini skirt off my golden frame. I lay there in nothing but my lacy stockings and suspenders, wet and exposed to his roving eyes. For a moment he was still, drinking in the image of my scantily-clad frame sprawled on the soft, pink sofa.
"God, you're beautiful!" he breathed, before lowering his head to my toned stomach. I gasped in anticipation, feeling the soft fall of his lips as he kissed his way down to my hips, making his way down my supple thighs before roughly pushing my legs apart. Then, he swiftly kissed his way up my inner thighs, groaning as he stroked my lacy suspender belt. I raised my hips in anticipation as he laughed softly, gently kissing the top of my thighs and tickling my light sprinkling of well-tended pubic hair with his impatient tongue. Suddenly, I felt his tongue gently circle my clitoris; I bit down on my lip hard as his tongue continued to explore my sensitive folds. "I've dreamt about this moment," he said, pausing, his rapid breathing causing my skin to tremor with desire as he continued: "I've always wanted you, right from when Mark first introduced us."
"Me too," I sighed, as he began to gently push his tongue back around my clit as his fingers delved inside. I'd never received anything like this from Mark and the intensity was incredible. As he began to rhythmically pump me with two of his broad fingers, I grabbed his hair to hold him there. Obliging, he continued his sucking and licking at my swollen clit as he added an extra finger to the fray. His attention to detail was spell-binding as he bought another finger to gently penetrate my anus; and without any further hesitation I felt the force of my orgasm rip through my body like fire. My hips buckled frantically, pinned down by his still probing fingers, sending wave upon wave of orgasm ricocheting through my bones. Momentarily stunned, I lay there, paralysed by the cascade of emotions that electrified my skin.
"Oh my God," I mumbled, still quivering from the after effects of orgasm, "No one has ever done it like that to me before." He smiled, his green eyes watching me carefully from my stomach where he had shifted, his moist fingers still playing lightly with my still erect nipples.