Girl Next Door Ch. 03

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I become irresistable.
5.9k words
4.59
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Part 3 of the 4 part series

Updated 11/01/2022
Created 07/28/2008
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I drove my dad's old car- which sucked because he had cheap taste. It was a dented, light blue Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera, only about a thousand years old. He said owning an official "Piece of Crap" first car built character, and he often pontificated how high school kids driving brand new sports cars and SUVs could only grow up to be major league assholes. Of course, I knew from firsthand experience that most of those kids would never grow up, and most of them were already assholes.

It was funny to think that my Dad, the guy who said old cars built character, was presently fucking the hell out of my new neighbor's Mom, a woman he barely knew. When I say funny, I definitely do not mean it in the "ha ha" sense. And as if this was not bad enough, my Mother was being fucked in the very same room by Maddy's dad.

It seemed more than improbable. It was impossible. That just wasn't my parents. Yeah, I'm sure they did things they didn't want me to know about, but I knew them well enough to believe with certainty that they were not swinger material.

And yet, my cock remained hard as I remembered the scene, no matter how disgusted I became.

I flicked on the overhead light and checked the address on the card given to my by Sarah Tasker. I recognized the street and thought I knew at which motel she was staying. It was a little off the beaten path, a good place to party without worrying about parents driving by and recognizing cars. Needless to say, I had been there more than once.

I turned off the light and drove. My body felt weak, but I had forced myself to the garage and in the car after discovering my parents at the Taskers. This was the kind of thing that could not wait.

Bits of Sarah's story twisted through my mind. For instance: the fact that her family had taken off without telling her. If that was the case, how had she found them? I thought about what she had said about finding the bodies of her new neighbors, about how they had looked: drained, withered, mummified.

I tried to make sense of it, but nothing seemed to fit; nothing rational, anyway.

By the time I pulled into the motel, I was more confused than ever. Sarah had written her room number under the cell phone number on the card she had given me: number 4. The number gleamed in the yellow cast from my headlights. With a heavy sigh, I twisted the key, and the ignition stuttered to a stop. I sat for a moment, listening to the slowing tick of the engine.

The motel was a rundown hulk: urine-colored buildings surrounded by droopy, leafless trees. The few rust-buckets that littered the parking lot looked suspicious, the kind of cars one's drug-addicted cousin would drive. Whenever nice cars were in the lot, you knew it was kids from town, partying. Apparently, no one felt like partying tonight.

I pushed the car door open and approached Room 4. I wasn't sure how to act or what I would say when Sarah opened the door. She'd probably be pissed I was waking her up, and I considered turning around and going straight home, wait until morning before coming back. But, as I said before, this was something that couldn't wait. Something... unnatural was happening to my family.

I lifted my fist to knock on the door, hesitated, and brought it down with a loud rap. Something creaked within the room, probably Sarah shifting on the bed.

"Who is it?" she called.

"It's me... Maddy's neighbor."

I heard footsteps. Something rattled- the chain, and something clicked- the lock. But the door didn't open. Instead, I heard the footsteps back away, and Sarah's voice on the other side.

"Come in," she said. Though this kind of demand struck me as odd, I did so. I pressed the squeaky metal latch down and pushed the door open. I thought vaguely of a story we had read my freshman year in high school: "The Lady or the Tiger." The pit of my stomach filled with dread; I would not have been surprised if something unnatural, something fanged and hungry, awaited me on the other side.

The door revealed the lady. Sarah Tasker stood in an unremarkable motel room. No tigers. Sarah was neither fanged nor drooling, but a handgun pointed at me from one hand. I seemed to register the gun with indifference. At this point, I was too tired to be afraid. If Sarah was going to shoot, then go ahead and shoot, my body seemed to say.

Instead, she lowered the gun. She motioned for me to come into the room.

"Just a precaution," she said, tossing the gun on the bed. I nodded.

"Yeah, never know who's going to show up at a lady's motel room in the middle of the night. I could be a vampire," I said with a twisted grin. Sarah didn't return the smile, and I didn't blame her. The remark wasn't very funny.

She reclined in a rickety chair, one not unlike the ones in the student lounge at school: cheap, barely cushioned, and stained. She heaved a heavy sigh. I noticed that she was still fully dressed, as if prepared to charge into action at a moment's notice.

"So what are you doing here?" she asked.

I took a seat at the end of the bed. The mattress creaked. I felt springs dig into my ass like bony fingers. I idly wondered if places like these were ever rated negative stars.

"I believe you." I paused, shaking my head. "Well, I'm not sure I believe you, but I believe something is going on," I struggled to explain. I still did not believe the Taskers were vampires, but I was starting to think that maybe there was a kind of superhuman or supernatural aspect to them. There had to be if they had managed to turn my parents into sex-hungry maniacs.

Sarah opened her mouth to reply, then closed it and frowned. She blinked. Then she looked down at herself. Her hair was light brown- as if unable to decide between the amber of her mothers and the dark black of her fathers, and scoops of it hung over her face as she glared down, gently touching the area of her jeans between her legs.

"Holy shit, I'm dripping wet," she observed.

This revelation caught me by surprise, even considering the outrageous activity I had observed (and partaken) earlier that evening.

"They've tagged you," she said and lifted her eyes to catch my own.

"Um, what?"

"They must have something, some pheromone or something. It makes them irresistible. That's why it's so easy for them to seduce you without question. They've already tagged you with it. They're preparing you," Sarah said, her words quickening, stumbling one over the other as she spoke.

"Prepare me?" I said. The conversation was absurd, yet it also made me uneasy. There was something irresistible about the Taskers, after all; I knew as much from experience. From the first moment I had seen Maddy, I had- well- LOVED her. It was something too strong to be explained away by lust or want or even simple teenage obsession, but was it something subconscious? Something that could be explained by... pheromones? Still, I couldn't imagine how Sarah Tasker could know all of this. She had either discovered something that she hadn't said, or she was making this crap up off the top of her head.

"Ah, god. We're not going to be able to finish this conversation until you fuck me. I am seriously soaking over here," Sarah said. She didn't sound horny; the tone was more businesslike. As if the fact that I was going to have to fuck her was an inescapable- if unwanted- necessity.

I shook my head. Despite the fact that Sarah was attractive, I didn't think I had it in me. The night had just been too strange, and I was too exhausted. Also, the moral dilemma of fucking Maddy, her mother, and now potentially her sister held some weight. I can't say that I regretted it, but the awkwardness of the situation had a negative effect on my boner capability.

"Can't," I said.

"You have to," Sarah said, and she popped out of her chair, threw herself across the room, and gripped the top of my shorts and boxers, her fingers slipping under the elastic. With a harsh yank, she had me naked from the waist down in a second.

Before I could stop her, she had me in her mouth, sucking hard. Her hands were at my balls, caressing and rubbing. My mouth gaped open, and my tongue lolled.

"Get hard," she said, her words muffled by the cock bulging her cheek. My body surprised me by responding to her manipulations. I lengthened in her mouth as she stroked then sucked. In short, I got hard as ordered. Maddy and Mrs. Tasker must have tagged me with not just pheromones but the kind of stamina I had previously believed existed only in porno movies. When I was at full potential, Sarah stopped and patted me on the thigh.

With a wink, she said, "Good boy."

She stood up and unbuckled her pants. I watched as she undressed, my mouth filling with drool. The body hidden beneath Sarah's buttoned-down, dark blue shirt and jeans was both athletic and voluptuous, the kind of body that most women admired with bitter jealously and men with unbridled lust. I realized with some dismay that Sarah was more attractive and hotter than Maddy, and yet, she did not fill me with the kind of limitless lust that Maddy did. When I had met Sarah, I had not had a single sexual thought about her, and that just wasn't natural for an eighteen year old boy with a permanent erection in his pants.

I began believing Sarah's words just a little more. Of course, at this rate, I should have believed every single thing she told me. My life felt like an adult movie crossed with a Bram Stoker novel.

Sarah slipped out of her jeans, unbuttoned her shirt, and slid it off her shoulders. Her breasts heaved within a plain white bra. My eyes widened when I saw the dark, wet splotch at the crotch of her panties. She had not been kidding when she said she was soaking wet.

I couldn't help myself. I went to my knees and pulled at the waistband of her panties with my index fingers.

"What a friendly boy," Sarah sighed above me, and then I was lapping at her like a thirsty dog. Her vagina was surrounded by curls of dark pubic hair. It scratched my cheeks as I drank her. Her juices dripped and were caught by my waiting tongue.

I felt her hands fist into my hair, pulling. She gave a shivery sigh.

With my left hand, I tickled her clit with my tongue. With the other, I held the soft curve of her ass cheek and pressed her closer to me. My lips brushed her vaginal lips; my tongue darted and licked and lapped. Her scent was strong and musky and she tasted tangy, slightly bitter, but delicious.

Sarah seemed to enjoy what I was doing to her. Perhaps Maddy's oral tutoring was more effective than I realized. As my tongue flickering in and out of her, Sarah sighed, and her slight tremors skittered down her body.

"Be careful," she whispered, "I squirt."

I heard it, but I can't say I fully listened. Instead, I kept at what I was doing, not heeding her advice. I should have because a moment later, Sarah barked, and an explosion of thick liquid exploded out of her and splattered against my face with unanticipated force.

"Jesus," I said, my face dripping.

Then the phone rang, an old-fashioned 'brang' that sent needles of sharp pain through my temples. Sarah sat up, and whatever pent-up sexual energy that had been in her a moment before had vanished from her features, transformed apparently into the sticky mess on my face.

I realized with some frustration that I would not be getting mine for awhile.

Sarah propped the phone between her chin and shoulder, leaving her hands free to scribble notes on a pad of paper on the nightstand with a cheap pen. She kept nodding and saying, "Yeah, uh huh, okay." Her naked womanhood still glistened with her juices in the dim lamplight.

When she hung up the phone, Sarah said, "We have an appointment tomorrow."

"Say what?"

"There's someone who may be able to clear some of this up for us. I've been doing some research, and I set up a meeting with an expert. We'll have to drive into the city. Up for a trip?" Sarah said, her glance flicking between me and the chicken-scratch she had scrawled on the notepad.

I hesitating, wondering whether I wanted to wade deeper into the insanity this woman was proposing. It would be so much easier to go home and hope things went back to normal. Then I thought- again- about what I had seen my parents doing. I needed to get to the bottom of this, especially if Sarah Tasker was telling the truth, and our lives were in danger.

"Yeah, sure," I said.

"In the mean time, we should get some rest."

I stood there, uncertain. Sarah frowned. Then she said, "So I'll see you tomorrow."

Feeling confused and frustrated, I gathered my clothes, haphazardly dressed, and stumbled out the door. Sarah watched with disinterested eyes, annoyed that I was still in the room after I had been dismissed.

On the ride home, my mind raced. I couldn't get a fix on Sarah Tasker. At one moment, she was tearing off my clothes, the next she was kicking me out of her room with a look that was usually reserved for the homeless or deformed- utter disgust. What was her deal?

The whole thing felt like a dream. I thought about Sarah telling me I had been tagged. With what? Pheromones? The absurdity of the whole idea made me want to burst out laughing. Only if I started laughing, I wasn't sure if I could stop.

The headlights of the car caught a shape on the side of the road, white-and-black in motion, a girl walking. She wore a ragged black jean mini-skirt, a black tank top, and black boots that came up to her knees. Based on her appearance, it looked like she hadn't planned on taking a hike.

I am not entirely sure why I pulled over. I'd like to tell you it was because I wanted to help this girl out, give her an innocent ride home, but I also think I wanted to put some of what Sarah had said to the test. My foot pressed subconsciously on the brake.

The car came to a slow, gravel-crunching stop beside her. I rolled down the window and asked, "Need a ride?"

She was cold. I could tell because she was rubbing her goose-pimpled, bare arms with her hands. Her fingernails were painted black; I supposed to match her shirt and boots. Based on her dyed-black hair and overdone eye makeup, I figured she was Goth or Emo, or whatever the hell her particular group liked to call itself. An obligatory nose-stud gleamed in the moonlight.

"Yeah, sure," she said.

I leaned over to the passenger side and pushed the door open with a screech of metal. I motioned for her to get in the car.

"Come on," I said.

She looked around, as though she didn't want to be seen getting into a car with a guy who wasn't covered in tattoos and piercings, and slipped into the seat. She smelled like cigarettes and beer. I thought about the pathetic vehicles that had been parked at the motel. I wondered if one of them belonged to her boyfriend.

"Coming from the motel? It's a long walk back to town," I said, thinking my guess was probably right. It was.

"My asshole boyfriend wanted a threesome. Fuck that, man."

"Well, that's more information than I expected," I quipped, "but yeah, sounds like he's an asshole."

The girl turned to look at me. A crooked smile broke through the indifferent façade of her face. I tried to keep my eyes on the road, but I could tell from what I had seen that if she'd let her hair go natural and if she took that stud out of her face, she'd be good-looking. She had a nice, if thin, body, and a pair of small, pert breasts poked from under the fabric of her tight t-shirt. Her legs were pale but trim and long coming out of her skirt.

"MEN are assholes," she said. "You'll be less of one if you have a cigarette."

"I don't," I said, laying on the apologetic tone thick. I had been told I was an asshole so many times that the word had lost its meaning. I wore the insult almost as if it was a badge of honor, but how was this girl supposed to know that?

"I'm sure you have something I can smoke," and yes, there was a hint of sluttiness infused in her voice. Then I heard her moving in her seat and felt her hands on me. Her tongue came out and flicked the lobe of my ear.

I had never met this girl in my life. Sure, it could have been someone from school. If so, I didn't recognize her. She was a stranger to me, and yet, she was going to fuck me. I knew it as confidently as I now knew that Sarah Tasker had told me the truth.

It was that easy. I had done nothing to seduce this girl; hell, I didn't even know her name. I had only picked her up off the side of the road. I could only grin as I felt her petite hands slide over my crotch and knead my softness into hardness. This was not mind control or hypnotism. I had done exactly nada to make this girl come on to me so unexpectedly. Still, it couldn't have totally been something like pheromones either. That was too hard to swallow, even then.

Again, I brought the car to a slow stop in the gritty dust at the side of a deserted, back road.

"Hell of a way to get back at your boyfriend," I said as her head dipped into my lap. The adrenaline of imminent sex made my senses hyper-alert. I heard the sweet, familiar sound of a zipper opening. Hot, wet warmth encased me. Immediate, electric pleasure coursed through me.

"Fnnnnnnnk hmmmmm," her reply was muffled by the erection bulging her cheek.

She became a bobbing bulge of dyed back frizz between the steering wheel and my abdomen. I smiled, sighed, and reclined the driver's seat to allow us a little more room. There is nothing like getting head from a girl you barely know. It makes you feel like a stud to get a girl to blow you five minutes after she's met you, and head, in general, makes you feel like a god.

I closed my eyes and gripped the sides of her head with my hands. Sarah Tasker had made her family sound as though they were evil. And yet, they had given me something, something that I knew I could use and enjoy for a long, long time: irresistibility. If that's what it really was, the opportunity it provided seemed limitless.

After a few minutes of being stroked into Emo-girl's sloppy mouth, I began to get antsy, and I said, "So do you want to fuck or slobber on my dick all night?"

The comment was rude and demeaning, and she should have gotten pissed off and left me. Instead, her head came up, her mouth met mine, and we crawled into the backseat in a frenetic mass of limbs and gyrating torsos.

They don't make backseats the way they used to, I can tell you that much. Nowadays, you have no room for some old-fashioned backseat lovin'. Since my hunk-o-junk was circa mid-eighties, I had no complaints. The back of dad's old car was positively roomy.

I pushed Emo-girl against the seat and went to my knees on the floorboard. My fingers hooked her skirt and pulled it down her smooth, close-shaved legs; naturally, she was wearing no panties. The smell of her femininity filled my nostrils immediately. Much like Sarah Tasker had been, the girl was dripping. However, this time I had learned my lesson. Rather than waste time, I impaled her immediately.

She squealed in pleasure, and I thrust into her savagely, beast-like, my hands squeezing her breasts hard, probably painfully. Emo-girl did not protest, merely squirmed and squealed louder, sounding not unlike an annoyed pig having its tail pulled. I felt my buttocks flex as I clenched, and I felt Emo-girl's black-painted fingernails digging divots into them.

She was tight and felt good, but I had no desire to extend myself beyond what was necessary.

Perhaps angry about what had happened with Sarah, I filled Emo-girl with cum after about thirty seconds. I was not fucking her to prove I was Don Juan; I was merely fucking her because I could. This wasn't about her. It was about me, and I was going to get mine. I gnashed, clenched, peaked. Then the frustration of being tossed out of Sarah Tasker's room squirted out of me with warm, throbbing pulsations.

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