Jess O'Riley & God's Tears

Soft rain sprinkled down from the heavens – God’s tears, a nun from Catholic School had once told her – but it barely registered in Jessica O’Riley’s sensory log book. As the droplets of water trickled through her shoulder length burgundy hair, they tracked various pathways down her forehead and eventually met up with the tears streaming out of her red-rimmed eyes.

Jess O’Riley rarely cried, and if she did it wasn’t while out in public, walking along a lonely sidewalk at seven o’clock at night. She was crying because she knew that she was going to die. This wasn’t the knowledge one had when they knew that they were going to die ‘some day’, these tears had sprung from eternal wells because her death was going to transpire in the ensuing weeks and years. ‘Maybe two years, but in all honesty that’s being very optimistic”, her pug-nosed doctor had told her, the sympathy evident in his morose eyes.

“I don’t need your goddamn sympathy,” Jess sniffed, running her hands through her rain slicked hair.

That had been two hours ago. Only two hours. It felt like years, decades, millennia, anything but one hundred and twenty minutes.

The person she’d awoken as this morning was not the same person that was now in control of her body. This person was different, altered. In some way the dark knowledge she now possessed had deeply changed her. The world didn’t appear as linear as it once had, and everything had undertaken a bizarre edge – the fabric of reality seemed skewed, possibly torn.

All thoughts that entered her mind, even those that were inane, ended with the sentence, ‘I’m going to die.’

It simply wasn’t fair. Bums she passed on the street every single day were probably going to live longer than she would. She was fit, ate a balanced diet, practiced safe sex and never used public restrooms.

“How did this happen?” she had asked Dr. Phillips.

“We’ve been over this, Miss O’Riley. We can try to backtrack until the cows come home, the truth is, you’ll probably never know. It must have been an accident of some type, but we’ll never be able to locate the origin. These things are virtually untraceable if you don’t even have a vague idea.”

The low-hanging rain clouds were an ash gray, like the ghoulish texture of an ancient tombstone. The mottled-gray twilight was in its own death-throes, yet tomorrow the sun would revive itself and again go through the entire process of dying slowly. Jess had read somewhere that it would take six billion years for the sun to go nova. It would eventually implode in on itself and then become so dense that any matter within its orbit would be sucked into it and be crushed, including its neighbour, Earth.

“Your cock is untraceable,” she muttered to herself, still thinking about Dr. Phillips’ words as the soles of her running shoes squelched against the wet, shadowy concrete.

All of a sudden the streetlamps winked on like a set of falling dominoes, one lighting up after another until there were no more unlit globes in her line of sight. They cast a soft glow on Jess as she ambled down the sidewalk, her eyes lowering to the ground as a laughing couple passed by.

How dare they laugh! Didn’t they know she was dying, that their laughter seemed to mock her misery?

The only cold comfort Jess could seek was the soothing splatters of rain that were drenching her as she tried to come to grips with her destiny. Walking aimlessly through the city seemed to calm her screaming nerves. The sidewalk wouldn’t mock her, because it was her friend and companion. It knew exactly how it felt to be walked all over by people whose feet carried them to destinations unknown. But Jess knew where she was headed, she knew all too well.

A woman as pretty as Jess O’Riley at her relatively young age of twenty-six, walking on her lonesome through the main streets of Melbourne at night, was simply asking for more trouble than she could possibly handle. Her native homeland was Ireland, and many men found her creamy complexion sensual when it was framed by her locks of burgundy hair. There was still a faint trace of her Irish accent and it apparently drove guys wild.

The clothes she was wearing were far from conservative. When she’d left for the hospital at 3 p.m. she’d decided to jog, which she did three times a week in her never-ending quest for peak physical fitness. The problem was that at this time of night her jogging attire wasn’t very suitable.

To begin with: she wore a tight pair of blue tracksuit pants that accentuated the smooth curves of her ass and her long, feminine legs. Although tight, the fabric of the suit remained flexible and was perfect for the free-movement required. Panties made jogging severely uncomfortable because they dug into her crotch and rode the crack of her ass, so for some time she’d foregone that particular item whilst exercising. The matching blue tracksuit top was made from the same thin fabric as the tracksuit pants, and came with the added accessory of a hood that lay comfortably between her shoulder blades. Underneath the hooded top she wore an off-the-rack sports bra, which snuggly held her medium-sized breasts so they didn’t bounce obscenely as she jogged.

An old boyfriend, Nathan Thorne, had often remarked that she never looked quite as fuckable as she did in her running outfit. Before she would leave for her jog she would often gaze at herself in the mirror. Every time she came to the same conclusion that Nathan had – she looked damn foxy and very fuckable.

After leaving the hospital crying, God’s tears had seemed to saturate Jess faster than what seemed humanly possible. Although trembling from the cold rain, she didn’t particularly mind because it was an emotion that was raw and stark. In fact, it was the only emotion she had coursing through her body that wasn’t focused on her demise. That’s why she kept walking. If she stopped and managed to get herself warm, what would she have left to feel?

The streets were barren. The rain seemed to create a lifeless void that extended beyond the walking pedestrians and touched on those who also owned automobiles. There were people driving around of course, although traffic seemed rather sparse in contrast to the usual motorcade moving through the inner streets of Melbourne.

Jess didn’t have a boyfriend – which was probably just as well – nor did she have any friends to consult or seek comfort with about her illness. She was alone. It was just the sidewalk and her, the soft squelching of her running shoes and the tears that God seemed to be shedding in commiseration.

She couldn’t call her mother. “God has a plan for us all,” she would say. And then, not wanting to hurt her mother but unable to keep her mouth shut, Jess would respond with: “Well mum, God went and fucked me over big time. Is that God’s plan, huh, to fuck me?”

That wouldn’t do at all. It would just make matters worse.

It seemed that God only had so much patience with his children, because his pity turned to spite almost the instant after she held the conversation with her mother in her head. It seemed that God wasn’t going to fuck her, but that he was going to get someone else to do it for him; such was his sympathetic plan for a dying woman.

In that instant, just as she was passing the darkened recess of an alleyway, the sky opened up with jagged streaks of lightning and a booming clap of thunder resounded through the night. Entranced, with her head tilted skyward, Jess came to a halt and observed the heavens cracking apart as the rumble of thunder deafened her.

Sister Robbins had insisted that not only did God have a plan for us all – as her mother believed also – but that rain was God’s tears. If the rain was God’s, then so too were the brilliant streaks of lightning and the roar of thunder, both seemingly distracting Jess long enough so that she didn’t see the man slink from the alleyway and sneak up behind her.

God was going to fuck her twice in one day. Once figuratively with an illness, the other literally with a rapist.

Jess sensed the man before she felt him, but by that time it was simply too late. What good was instinct if it never kicked in quick enough to save your ass?

Although there were plenty of cars speeding by, the lightning probably distracted any would-be hero long enough for the man to wrap one meaty arm around her waist and cup a hand over her mouth to stifle any screams. Once she was in his clutches he plucked her from the ground and disappeared with her into the dark, trash-filled alley.

It was that simple and it only took ten seconds at the most.

They trekked a few metres inside until he unceremoniously dumped her back first into a pile of garbage that lay spread out on the ground. Something squished underneath her back and the stench of rotten vegetables filled her nasal cavities. The narrow alley was illuminated by a small light fixture on the side of the closest building, casting sufficient light over her attacker so she could view his complete profile.

He looked…normal. There was nothing about him that bespoke of the many atrocities he had probably committed. Clad in a simple grey t-shirt and blue jeans, he had a soft, young face and jet-black hair that drooped in his eyes. He didn’t appear menacing at all. That was somehow more horrible than having him look like some depraved sexual predator, or looking gruesomely vile and ugly.

“You fuckin’ bastard,” she screamed. “What the hell do you thin–”

Jess was silenced by a slap to the face. The sharp sound echoed off the brick walls of the alley, and any thoughts of yelling at him again were quickly dispelled when the hand that slapped her clutched her neck and tightened.

“Don’t do that again,” he said softly, loosening his grip. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to have a bit of fun.”

“Please,” she sniffed, the tears still running down her face from before. “I don’t have any money on me. Just let me go and I won’t report you to the police.”

“If I wanted money I’d rob a bank. Look at you,” he said, letting his gaze drift from her face and over her body. “What’s a girl dressed the way you are walking around by herself at this time of night? You’re just asking for what I’m going to do. Maybe that’s it, perhaps you like it…love it even.”

She tried to squirm away from him but her movements were halted by another slap to the face. This time it was harder and Jess felt her bottom lip split open.

All of a sudden she became lightheaded, as if she’d just taken her first puff from a cigarette in five years. It was hard to focus her eyes and the walls of the alleyway began to spin in a clockwise direction. In fear of throwing up she let her head sink back into the garbage, allowing droplets of rain to splatter against her upturned face.

God’s tears, she thought deliriously, what a crock of shit. More like God’s piss.

In another foggy thought she wondered how long it would take for Spider-Man to swing down from the buildings and save her. Knowing her luck, Peter Parker would probably be off screwing Mary Jane Watson while she was being attacked.

The man unlaced her running shoes and removed them without any hassles. Things began to slowly swim back into focus as she felt his hands grip the elastic band of her tracksuit pants and tug them inside out down her nicely toned thighs. When the cuffs slipped away from her dainty feet he tossed the tracksuit pants into a pool of stagnant water. He left her socks, printed with two bears kissing, on her feet.

Negotiating her tracksuit top would be too troublesome, so he just shoved it up against her chin and jerked the sports bra down to her midriff, exposing her lovely breasts and their large, light pink nipples. Due to the cold rain her nipples were stiff and pointy, while every square inch of skin on her body was covered in gooseflesh.

“Nice tits,” he said, leaning down to grope her slick breasts.

Still weak from the slaps, he easily swatted away any attempts from her to cover herself or push his massaging hands away. Every cold droplet of light rain that splashed against her naked skin roused her more and more, their overall effect accumulating to that of smelling salts.

It was all in vain. No sooner than she’d finally shrugged off the misty curtain of semi-conscious, her attacker splayed her legs apart – exposing her exquisite pussy – and fell towards her naked body. Of course, Lady Luck wasn’t on her side. In one fluent movement his substantially proportioned cock filled her rain slicked pussy until it was completely inside her body, the furry sack of his balls resting firmly against her puckered asshole.

“No,” she groaned softly.

The rest of his body followed suit and landed against her with an audible slap, pushing her deeper into the soggy garbage. All of the air in her lungs was expelled with a loud ‘oof.’ What shocked her was that he had his cock inside her so fast. It wasn’t possible, he was still fully clothed! Then realization hit her like a slap in the face. He was wearing jeans. All he had to do was unzip the fly and pull himself out.

His invasion was so sudden that her hands operated with a mind of their own. They slipped to the side of his body and gripped hard, her body going taut as she readied herself to throw the sick son of a bitch off her.

“If you hurt me or try to stop me, I’ll be very, very upset,” he whispered.

“Don’t do this. Please don’t do this,” she begged, removing her hands from his body and laying them in the garbage at her side. Shouting out or trying to stop him seemed like a very bad idea, so she just lay back and let him use her body how he saw fit.

Obviously not one to enjoy sticking his hands in trash, he eased himself into the air by digging both his hands into her shoulders. Jess desperately wanted to close her eyes and float away into some closed off region of her mind, to escape the humiliation of being used like a piece of meat. But, like the wide-eyed people who mill excitedly around the scene of a bad accident, she was somehow morbidly curious about her own rape. She had to watch, her own flawed nature compelled her to.

The cock between her legs was unsheathed and it was the first time a guy would fuck her without a condom. One of the primary concerns with rape is the transmission of diseases, but in Jess’s case she couldn’t catch anything from him that could be as fatal as what she already had. That was when her plan of attack began its early stages of fruition.

Then he began to fuck her limp body. If he had used her with any degree of tenderness or care she may have cancelled her plan of increasing his chances of catching what she had. But his thrusts were painfully hard and his cock was slamming into her pussy as if it had an engine strapped to it. The fact he was largely equipped wasn’t helping things. It wasn’t that he was gigantic or anything, but he managed to stretch her tight pussy further than it had ever been stretched before.

Soft rain – God’s piss – continued to fall onto her face as her unknown attacker used her luscious body. Each time his cock drove deep inside her cunt she would grunt softly with the impact. All of his force ended up being distributed to her ass but it didn’t seem to matter too much – it was lying square on top of decaying vegetable matter that seemed to squish against her skin with each downward stroke.

“You like this, don’t you bitch?” he hissed between gritted teeth. “Sure you do, all you gorgeous sluts like being used this way. And your cunt, Christ! Could it be any tighter?”

Blood started trickling into her mouth and the metallic taste gave her the idea she’d needed. Her split lip would play an integral role in giving this sick fuck his just deserts. But to do that she would have to kiss him, and to kiss him Jess would need to gain his trust. If she didn’t gain his trust then he would be extremely hesitant as to what her motive was when she suddenly asked – or attempted – to kiss him. What she was about to do next made her want to vomit.

On the apex of his next thrust, when the tip of his cock had almost been removed from her pussy entirely, Jess jerked her hips upwards and the lips of her pussy gobbled up his entire cock as he slammed it against her. She smiled weakly at him when he looked down at her, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Very slowly, almost as if he knew she was up to something, he slid out until just the tip was embedded, and was met by another surge of her hips when he thrust back inside. This repeated a half dozen times until he slipped back into his previous rhythm, their bodies slapping together forcefully as she repeatedly met his cock half way.

“You’re actually enjoying this?” he marveled.

“Y-yes,” she stammered. It was humiliating and degrading, but ultimately necessary.

“What a filthy little slut!”

The fact she was fucking him back seemed to spur him on faster, it made him pound into her harder, and she was pleased with the fact that the experience was probably going to end sufficiently sooner than if she’d just laid back and let him ravage her.

At least the falling rain allowed her some comfort despite being freezing cold, seeing as how the water dribbled down the slopes of her breasts, across her stomach and trickled inside her opening. It made her cunt all wet and easy for him to fuck.

To gain his absolute trust she was probably going to have to let him cum inside her pussy. She couldn’t risk trying to kiss him beforehand and have him become overly cautious. If he was going to go off inside her anyway, Jess figured that it may as well be to her advantage. The idea of letting him flood her with his spunk sickened her, but she had to let him do it. Many guys had begged her to let them but she’d turned them down, always trying to keep her body disease free and in tip-top shape. She may as well have let them, for all the good it did her.

His cock was a steel battering ram that was repeatedly bashing into her door. It didn’t exactly hurt anymore but she just wanted him out of her body. It disgusted her that she had to keep up the charade that she was enjoying being fucked. Please, she begged silently, just please hurry up and cum!

It seemed for once that her prayers had been answered, because just then he went rigid and she could feel violent shudders vibrating through the hands clutching her shoulders.

“Ah fuck,” he moaned, ramming his large cock into her like a man possessed. “Oh yeah, baby, I’m gonna give you a big old load.”

He seemed to be a man of his word. Seconds later, after slamming his hips down against hers and grinding her ass into the garbage, a torrent of semen spewed forth from the tip of his cock and saturated her already rain slicked pussy. Spurt after spurt of warm cum filled her as she lay back and squeezed her eyes closed, attempting to block out the sickening sensation of his sticky sperm entering her body.

Finally his twitching cock stopped throbbing and the flow of semen turned to a drizzle, then stopped all together. Worn out and tired, he collapsed on top of Jess’s body and crushed her into the garbage.

A shudder of pleasure raced through her body as she realized that the moment had arrived for her to seek her revenge. It was time for her to enforce a little payback, a form of justice that courts and juries couldn’t administer. Even if the police ever found him and she could prove that she was raped, how much of a prison sentence would he receive? One year, two at the most? And this definitely wasn’t the first time he’d attacked a woman, so she felt a certain moral responsibility to all those women who he’d wronged in the past.

Jess brought her hands up from beside her body and ran them through his slick hair. He was looking at her but there was no trace of suspicion or distrust, only a peculiar little smile that seemed to indicate he had enjoyed himself thoroughly.