Dare to Dog - Ben

"You asshole!" she shouted. "You had no right to do that!"

"We had plans for tonight," I seethed, trying to keep my voice down.

"Everything all right up there?" I heard Eleanor call from downstairs. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"We're fine!" I called back. I tried to keep my voice neutral, but didn't think I succeeded.

"Elizabeth?" Eleanor called back. I should have known that my answer wouldn't be good enough.

"We're fine, mum," Beth answered.

"Okay," Eleanor said. It was obvious that she didn't believe either of us. "I'll be down here if you need me."

I failed to contain my irritation. Beth caught it, and I saw the wheels spinning. Not only was she not in the same mood she had been in the morning, but I could tell that she wasn't going to get back there any time soon. Whatever playfulness she had had the night before or in the morning was gone, and it wasn't coming back.

"What's going on?" I repeated.

She tried to reach for her phone that I still held in my hand. "Gimme my phone," she complained.

I held it up and out of reach. She tried to knee me in the balls. Instinctively I twisted my hips and blocked her knee with my own. She winced in pain, not expecting the block.

"You asshole," she said again. "That hurt! You wanker!"

Her entitlement was astounding. "You shouldn't've tried to knee me, then," I said without remorse.

She rubbed her knee and glared at me. "I changed my mind," she said.

"You changed your mind?" As soon as I said it out loud and instantly regretted it. I sounded like a fool.

"You changed your mind?" she mimicked, screwing up her face in a grotesque mask of mocking contempt.

Suddenly, an idea struck her. "Fine," she said impatiently.

She sat back on the bed and lifted her hips off the sheets as she reached for the button of her jeans. She unzipped them and pulled them to about halfway down her thighs. She then grabbed the bottom hem of her t-shirt and pulled it up over her bra. A quick flip of her fingers and the front clasp popped open, exposing her chest.

She lay back down and then pulled her knees up and locked her arms behind them. Her naked, shaven pussy and her flat, lifeless nipples plainly visible. I'd seen her like this before. Her vagina was locked up tighter than the Crown Jewels, and there was nothing sexy about her pose.

"Fuck me and get it over with," she said. Her tone was bored and flat.

"Well, go on, then," she said, deliberately antagonizing me. "This is what you want, right? Well, go ahead. I won't stop you."

I looked at her with disgust.

"What's wrong, Ben?" she asked. "Can't get it up?"

There was a sudden flash of incongruence in my head. Beth was still the most beautiful woman I'd ever been with. Athletic. Attractive. Naked, she could arouse a statue. If I were to take a picture of her at that moment there would be thousands of men around the world who'd be whipping out their dicks to pay 'tribute.'

But I knew the truth. For years I'd seen the monster within, masked through goddess-like beauty.

"It's a good thing you're so goddamn attractive, Beth" I said quietly. "Otherwise no one would ever put up with your bullshit."

I tossed the phone at her. It bounced on the bed and then gently bumped against her naked pussy. I caught sight of it just as I turned around and left the bedroom. Behind me, the phone careened through the open doorway and crashed into the wall opposite.

I hustled down the stairs, fuming.

"What did you do?" Eleanor sputtered accusingly as came out of the kitchen.

I looked over my shoulder. "You better go up and see if she's okay," I said. "She may need your help."

A shocked look came over her face. "Elizabeth? Elizabeth!" she cried as she hustled her fat ass up the stairs. I couldn't help by smile to myself as I pulled my jacket off the hook and left the house. I had a mental image of her mother bursting into the room as Elizabeth was half-undressed. As prissy as her mother was, it would have been hilarious to see the look on their faces as she careened into the room with her naked daughter caught in flagrante delicto.

I got to the car and reached into my pocket for my keys. Dammit. They were still on the hook in the foyer. Not wanting to go back into the house, I simply kept walking. Soon I was out of the neighborhood, and before I knew it I was hustling along the foot path.

I needed space. The feeling of being trapped threatened to overwhelm me once again, but this time it was worse than ever. She had made an implicit promise that she was going to try to make it better, to make things work. For a full 24 hours she had me going, constantly turning up the heat just enough to keep me on the hook.

I felt like a fool. She had played me. Just like Lucy and the football with Charlie Brown. Somehow I kept falling for it all and despite my best efforts, she always seemed to make me look like the bad guy. She must have had this planned from the beginning. It was all about control.

And I had fallen for it. Again.

Stewed in my own juices, I only started to realize the time when my feet began to hurt. The sun had set and I was now walking between street lamps. I recognized the area that I was in and was surprised to find that I had walked for miles outside of town. Up ahead there was a bus stop, and I double-checked to make sure that I had my wallet with me.

I sat down on the bench and waited. I was in a funny mood. I didn't care if the bus came or not. I could walk back to the house and maybe, maybe by the time I got there I'd have cooled off enough to actually go in. When a bus did come, I could take it or not. It was my choice.

The digital sign was out of order. I had no idea when the next bus was coming, and that was okay by me. I took out my phone and saw that I had missed texts.

Great. You shattered the glass on my phone now.

That actually made me crack a smile. She had thrown her phone at me. But, like everything else, it was my fault.

The time stamp on the next message was a full hour later. Where did you go?

I looked at my watch. Sure enough, I had been gone for nearly two hours.

A half-hour after the first message. Where are you?

Fifteen minutes after that. Are we going to talk about this?

Fifteen minutes. Final message. Fine. Stay out all night for all I care.

I sighed. I dreaded going back to the house for yet another fight with her. This went double for her mum hanging around as well. This was a woman who had no talent for de-escalation.

A bus ambled towards me. Before I knew it, muscle memory kicked in and I flagged it down. The big red double-decker leaned a little as it aimed for the side of the road. It wasn't the cool old Routemasters but rather one of those clean, modern ones. I kinda missed the old ones.

The doors whished open and I slapped my wallet onto the Oyster reader before heading towards the back of the bus. It was mostly empty except for a few end-of-day passengers. The bus lurched away from the kerb and started taking me back the way I had come. Closer to home. To Elizabeth.

I found my stress level rising as the bus drove onwards. Normally I found my home to be my sanctuary, but lately it seemed that I never knew what was going to be waiting for me upon my arrival. The lady or the tiger, indeed. More often than not I faced the claws and the teeth.

There were several stops before mine. I had walked long enough that the trip back wasn't quick, but each stop ratcheted up my anxiety. I just wasn't ready to go back yet.

Were we finished? Were Beth and I history? It certainly felt like we should be. We had no kids and no permanent obligations. I qualified for a Highly Skilled Migrant Visa, if I wanted to stay in the UK. I didn't need to stay with her.

I felt the ring on my finger. It felt like a lead weight, almost as if it was pulling me down towards the ground. I'd worn it day and night, only taking it off to shower or bathe. It was as much of a part of me as she was.

I reached for the ring with my right hand, and pulled it off. I felt naked. Vulnerable. As much unhappiness as I felt in my marriage, having it off my hand made me nervous. I at least understood where I was supposed to fit in. I knew the boundaries, even if I hated them.

The scenery around the bus looked familiar. I was approaching my stop. I lifted my left hand to the "stop request" button, and was just about to press it when I suddenly stopped. The bare spot on my finger looked like someone else's hand. Someone who didn't have to stop here.

I dropped my naked hand into my lap without pressing the button. I tucked the ring into my pocket, and then absent-mindedly rubbed the area where it used to be. Years of wearing it, and not even an indentation. No tan line - why would there be? Since when was there ever enough sun in England to leave a tan?

The bus drove past my stop. No one ever knew that I should have gotten off. I watched the bus pass by my street. I saw my house come into view and then disappear through the trees in parallax.

Was this what it felt like to be unencumbered? Free? Exploring? I didn't want to go home, but where did I want to go?

I wanted to people-watch. I looked around the bus, but there weren't that many people to observe. A young couple came down from the upper deck at the next stop, but no one else got on. A woman had done her shopping and was coming home with them atop her lap. She stared out the window. Two businessmen and an old geezer in a flat cap dotted the remainder of the lower deck of the bus. No one spoke. No one made eye contact.

Even so, I wasn't bored. I felt like I was playing hooky. I was the foreigner, the outsider in this North London village, riding the bus like a tourist instead of a resident. I could be either if I wanted to. I could be invisible if I wanted to. I pushed aside the feeling of guilt that I should head back home and face my punishment.

The bus stopped and a woman got on. Dark hair, pretty face. Large chest. Fishnet hose. Probably thirty or so. No, maybe slightly older. About my age. She had a kind face.

She was everything that Elizabeth wasn't. Beth's physique was hard and muscular, which matched her temperament. This woman was all curves, but they were curves in the right place. Beth had no cleavage, but this woman's bosom was impossible to hide.

It was a collision of contradictions. The woman had a natural beauty to her that made her outfit look out of place. It looked as if she had never worn anything like it in her life, as if she was going to a fancy dress party. I caught a glimpse of the hose as she walked by and it looked like one small section had been stretched too far and wouldn't retract properly.

I chastised myself for staring, but I couldn't help it. I found myself drawn to her for some reason. She sat down a few rows further back from where I was, but because my seat faced the center aisle I could see her clearly. I looked away before she caught me, though.

A chill ran through me and I put my hands in my pockets. The loose ring hit my fingertips and suddenly I was back in the zone of guilt and shame.

What was I thinking? Had I really been entertaining the notion of talking to this woman on the bus? What would that look like, exactly? Hello, I saw that you are sitting alone on a bus and wearing fishnets and a miniskirt. Would you like to go somewhere and talk?

I shuddered, creeping myself out.

My phone buzzed. I knew who it was. I didn't want to look. Curiosity got the better of me though.

We need to talk.

Four little words. Just one more than three little words, with completely the opposite meaning.

The bus stopped and more people got off. I looked around, and it was just the pretty woman and myself and a couple of other people that I didn't recognize. When had they gotten on the bus? The woman with the shopping was long gone. I must have been pretty deep in my own zone.

The darkness outside of the bus became complete. There were street lamps, but no more buildings or cars. We had gone pretty far away from my village. I sighed. I needed to get back, even though I didn't want to.

The stop request dinged throughout the bus, and I looked up. I hadn't even realized that there was a stop close by. I might as well take the opportunity to get off and make the return trip.

The pretty brunette stood up and shuffled past. I played with the ring in my pocket, and took a deep breath. Time to face the music.

I stood up behind the pretty woman and got a whiff of her perfume. I had no idea what it was, but it was delicate and spicy without being overwhelming. It had also been freshly put on. Recent.

Another buzz. I fished my phone out of my pocket and looked at it as the bus came to a stop.

Call me. Now.

Without looking where I was going, I took a step out of the bus.

And ran straight into the brunette. Shocked, I fumbled the recovery. "Oh!" I said, "Excuse me!"

My voice was hoarse and almost a whisper. Having stayed silent for several hours I think my throat wasn't used to making noises. I hope it didn't come across as creepy.

She turned and gave me a friendly smile. Then, without saying a word, she turned left and began walking down the pavement. In that one brief moment, she had been more approachable than Beth had been over the past six years.

I went right, planning to go across the street to the companion bus stop for busses heading in the other direction. Before I even got halfway, though, I saw the digital signage indicate that the next bus wouldn't be for another 48 minutes.

Inwardly, I groaned out of habit. It took me a moment to realize that it meant that I still had nearly an hour of reprieve. When I got home Beth would give me the third degree, but so far every single thing that I had done meant I could tell the truth. I shook my head, realizing that I was already coming up with lies to tell so that she would get off my back. Lies that were unnecessary because the truth was legitimate on its own.

I looked around to take stock of my situation. I had no idea where I was. Some sort of park. In the back of my head I started piecing things together. I remembered reading something about a park in North London not too far from where I lived. Could this be that park? The "Dogging" park?

My life with Elizabeth had left me with a rich masturbation life. I wasn't naive. I'd been on the porn websites and had sampled their wares. But it never dawned on me that such places existed. They always looked too staged.

The image of the pretty brunette with the fishnets came back to me. Could she...? No way!

Curiosity got the better of me. I crossed back over the street and began walking along the paths. Which way had she gone? There were no shortage of possibilities in an English park of this size. There was a large open half-moon sized space of grass from the pavement back to the tree line.

She had simply disappeared. I looked around, searching for any kind of sign of where she could have gone. A thought struck me - what if she was in danger? My imagination started playing more tricks on me. I would have been perfectly happy if I simply couldn't find her, but now that the thought of her in trouble had entered my brain, I just couldn't abandon her.

I didn't even know her. I only said three words to her. I had no idea who she was or what she was doing. But something compelled me to make sure she was okay. I stepped off the sidewalk and headed back towards the tree line.

The bus ride had told me that the park was huge. I had no idea how I was going to find anyone or anything in the darkness. The path I had chosen was poor. There was no lighting and the tree canopy blocked any of the natural light coming from above.

I wandered aimlessly for what seemed like several minutes until I was ready to give up. I turned around, and then realized that I didn't know the direction from whence I had come. Wait. Where I had come from. Fuck. Goddamn English grammar. Beth was the English English major, as I'd joked when we'd first met.

Stumbling onward, I figured I'd try to stay in a straight line as best I could and hopefully I'd reach the clearing again. Instead, I saw a mild yellow glow peek through the brush. I stepped through, and found myself in a living, breathing, real-life porno.

There was a woman on a blanket, kneeling with two lads standing next to her with their trousers down. She had a cock in each hand, and was tag teaming them both with her mouth. Two small electric camping lanterns lit her from below as she worked her magic.

She was just like what you would see in the videos. Middle-aged. Slightly heavy set. Breasts that had succumbed to gravity several years before. Horny as absolute hell.

What wasn't like the porn videos was her spirit. It was like visiting a mountain that you had only seen in photographs and marveling at how no camera, no film or digital representation could capture the absolute majesty of the real thing. The woman was sex incarnate.

She obviously loved what she was doing, and nothing was going to rob her of her prize. I was probably about fifteen or twenty feet away, watching with absolute fascination and admiration. My cock, which hadn't seen attention outside of Beth's teasing in ages, responded with its own salute.

If this had been on a website I would have clicked away from it, uninterested. But here in real life, it was different. She was a real woman and I found myself quite aroused by her enthusiasm and devil-may-care attitude.

There was slobbering noises and grunts of effort. Even though no one said a word, it sounded like they were having fun. It reminded me that I'd had fun with sex once. I'd used to know how to play. It seemed like such a long time ago.

She pulled the dick from her face and looked up at the lad. "Fuck my mouth!" she growled. She wasn't from around here. Farther north. Yorkshire? Not quite Scottish but close. Even though I'd lived in England for many years, I was still trying to get used to the different accents the small country had to offer.

Her fist pulled him closer and she stuffed him into her mouth and took his ass with both hands and began pulling him in and out, almost violently. He was surprised and let out a little groan, but didn't complain. The other bloke simply stood next to her stroking himself, waiting for her to pay him some attention.

I looked at him after a moment, and he was evidently a bit unsure of himself. She was focusing on the first guy and he was just... there. He appeared to not know whether he should leave or not and looked around as if to look for a graceful exit. Finally he looked back at what she was doing and became just as enthralled as I was.

The guy getting blown was simply a piece of meat. Anyone who thinks that a woman is subservient to a man while giving a blow job would definitely have learned a thing or two from her. He arched his back a little, presenting his full length to her. She deep throated him with each dive. She controlled him with her hands and mouth and he could only go along for the ride.

From where I was standing I could see his eyes roll back in his head. His hips jerked a couple of times. I knew what was about to happen.

So did she. "I'm gonna..." he tried to warn, but she was far, far ahead of him. She kept up her onslaught and never once let him relax. Her blonde hair flew back and forth in a pendulum with each suck stroke. She was going to suck the come out of him whether he was ready or not.

The guy lost it. His face scrunched up into a tight mess, and then his eyes and mouth opened in an explosive release as he emitted a long, powerful grunt. There was no mystery as to what happened. The whites of his eyes - which were all I could see now - were tinted orange from the lanterns.