Messy Ch. 02

"Ick," Tori said simply. She slid off the horse and opened one of the dresser drawers, took out her strap on. She stepped into the harness and pulled it up, slotting her end of the dildo into place, then tying it around her waist.

"What do you think you're gonna do with that?" Nina asked with a grin.

"You." She pulled her friend into a torrid kiss, both of them seeming to melt into the other with the wonderful skin on skin sensation, and then Tori gently dragged Nina to the floor. They rolled around on the carpet, making out for a few minutes while I watched, cock stiffening at the sight. Tori backed off, pulling Nina up, positioning her in her hands and knees facing me. I watched the nurses face as Tori held one hip for leverage, took her thick rubber toy in her other hand, and pushed into her friend. Nina's eyes widened and she gasped as the toy filled her, then she looked back over her shoulder at Tori and bit her lip. "Please?"

"Yes, you can make noise."

I dropped to my knees in front of Nina and guided her head down. She sucked me in hungrily. "Or can she?"

The sensation of thrusting into Nina's mouth as Tori pounded away at her other end was... Interesting. All my time in the kink community, and I've never quite gotten the hang of this threesome combination. If you don't get the rhythm right, one is thrusting while the other is pulling, and even when you get that right, there's still a girl in the middle who might not.

This night though it worked out pretty well. Nina held still and held her mouth open, and I held her head and pushed in like she was some kind of toy, jacking myself off against her tongue and the back of her throat in synch with the pushes Tori was delivering from the other end of her body. I reached down and palmed one of her hanging breasts, roughly pinched the nipple, and this, along with a particularly deep thrust from Tori, set her off, howling around my rod in her throat.

We gave Nina a few moments to recover, all of us taking a sip of our drinks, and then we resumed, this time trading places so I could piston in and out of the Somalian woman's tight little pussy. She must've had a kegel exercise routine as well, because even dripping wet and thoroughly fucked, she still gripped me like a vice.

We got her off - and Tori too, from the movement of the double ended dildo lodged inside her - and then we found more comfortable positioning in Tori's massive bed. Nina lay on her back, Tori gripping her ankles to her shoulders as she pounded away, and I knelt by Nina's head, leaning over so she could suck me. Her oral performance was much more gentle in the bed, more long wet tongue strokes, more a massage with her mouth than the kind of aggressive fucking we'd been engaging in tonight. And any time I wanted to see an example of that, all I had to do was look down her gorgeous body to the younger girl positioned between her thighs, stretching her pussy out with a thick toy.

I felt my climax approaching and reached down to twist one of Nina's nipples, hard enough that she whimpered around my cock. "I'm going to cum in your mouth. Do. NOT. Swallow. I want to see it."

She nodded hurriedly and picked up the pace as the boiling sensation increased in my abdomen, culminating in me thrusting hard into her mouth as my cock contracted and jerked, forcefully ejecting my semen into her throat. I pulled back finally and she worked her jaw for a moment, then parted her lips to show me the sea of cum she was holding.

Tori let the legs she was holding to her chest fall to the sides and leaned over, getting into a more traditional missionary position over her lover. "Give me some of that," she whispered. I lay back and watched as the two shared a deep kiss, and then Tori continued forcefully, if a little more rhythmically and intimately, rutting into Nina.

I closed my eyes. What a great end to the week.

The girls didn't wake me when they slipped from the bed in the morning, or when they left for the class, and I headed back to my house about ten, showering, shaving, and packing for a weekend at the cabin. I threw Moby Dick in my Jeep's CD player and headed out of town, stopping on my way up north to buy a bundle of flowers.

I don't like to be alone with my thoughts. The depression that buried me after my parents death comes creeping back when the silence drags on too long, so I immersed myself in the mythical world of obsessed captains and titanic whales, and enjoyed the colors as the fall scenery - brilliantly bright forests and quaint looking farms rolled past.

I stopped at The Curve.

Somehow I always expected it to look more ominous. To still bear the scars of the vehicle crash that took my family years ago. But as I stood at the edge of the road, looking at the woods, inhaling the crisp autumn air, I couldn't see it.

Driving back on a snowy night in February, the wheels of their car had slipped on some thawed and refrozen snow, sending their car spinning off the road and down the embankment. I'd called the police when I didn't hear from them for a day, and the troopers had found the tangle of metal right...there. I squinted at the tree line, located the oaks that had caught my parents car. Both mom and dad had died on impact or shortly thereafter.

I set the bundle of flowers down by the recently installed guardrail, and took a moment to breathe in the chill October air, listen to the sounds of the wind and the birds.

Beautiful.

Fuck this place.

It was another forty five minutes to the cabin. I cranked the volume on the classic novel and fought to relax my nerves.

The cabin was dark, and I closed the garage behind me, trudged into the main area in almost complete blackness. In the kitchen I opened the blinds, letting the afternoon light flood in to illuminate the interior.

I was still fighting with myself over whether I wanted to sell it, update the décor to match my tastes, or if I wanted to leave everything as it was the day they'd driven out for the final time, a tribute to two lives cut short.

If I kept it, I'd have to at least throw a black cloth over all the fricking bear decorations. Done up in a woodsy motif, the cabins primary colors were heavy blues and cranberry, with lots and lots of cute stuffed and sculpted bears staring at you from damn near every angle.

I checked all the electrical connections, checked the pipes, turned up the heat, and made myself a sandwich from the supplies I'd brought. While I munched, I laid out my hunting gun on the table and cleaned and reassembled it. I'm paranoid about safety, so I keep my guns broken down, the pieces stored in two safes, the ammo in a third.

The LWD 20 had started life as a Glock 20 before getting sent off to a custom house for a bunch of hunting upgrades. A longer barrel and slide to take advantage of the increased speed of the 10mm round, upgraded internals for ease of use, and a bombproof red dot sight on top. I hadn't any suspicion that it'd been tampered with since I put it away in the spring, but I took it out to the field behind the house, set up a target at 150 feet and proceeded to prove to myself that I could humanely harvest venison this fall and winter.

The hard crack of the gun was muffled by the woods surrounding my impromptu range, but was still loud. Hunting ammo is heavy stuff, even for a handgun. A hundred rounds down range and my wrists hurt, my ears rang even with plugs.

That done, I cleaned the gun again, and broke it down and locked it in the safes with the pieces of its friends. While I had better guns for hunting, Wilson Combat AR10s and 870s, I liked the challenge of the pistol.

I'm not a gun nut, I just like nice stuff. If I'm going to use a tool to do a job, I'm going to get the best tool I can.

After that came the snowmobiles. Still in pristine shape. Then the woodpile, still full. Then the windows and doors, still secure.

I went for a run after the maintenance chores were done, an hour of pounding the country roads to a techno soundtrack, breathing in the harsh northern Minnesota fall air. I knew it was mental, but up here the air felt more pure, uncontaminated by exhaust and the contaminants of humans that were ever-present even in the upper suburb of Minneapolis where I lived and worked. I could just...breathe. Enjoy the pounding shocks of my feet on the pavement, listen to the sounds of the birds and the wind and my techno and just turn my mind OFF.

I was bent nearly double by the time I returned to the house, and I sucked down 3 massive bottles of water before stepping in the shower and scrubbing the sweat away in a scalding deluge. What did I want to do tonight? Did I want to drive to the supper club in the next town over? Hadn't been there in a year or so. Did I want to cook? This would be the last chance I had, probably, to grill out.

Hamburgers it was.

I fished around the liquor cabinet for something expensive and intoxicating. I hadn't stocked this place with the Chopin vodka I'd come to enjoy in the past year. It was mostly whiskey up here, left for the nearest neighbor who occasionally checked in, and rum for when I brought Victoria up over Christmas vacation. In the end I made myself a Wisconsin Old Fashioned with some top shelf Knob Creek, and sipped the pleasantly harsh, yet refreshingly fruity drink while the charcoal grill on the deck warmed up and the sun illuminated the fire-colored treetops with gold as it sank.

By the time the burgers were done, I'd switched over to bourbon on the rocks, and my mind was a pleasant buzz as I covered the meat with lettuce, ketchup, cheese, and onions. I ate at the old dining room table, looking around at the empty, silent house, trying to conjure up visions to fill the deserted chairs.

Drinking numbs the mind, dulls the pain...but it also makes it easier to focus on the things that bring me pain. I should make some new memories here. Maybe bring Nina up here this winter with Tori, fill the house with the sounds of orgasmic women moaning and the snap of leather on skin.

Maybe I should bring Sienna up here. I could easily visualize snowball fights with the lithe blond before retiring to the shower and then the fluffy cocoon of bed and blankets.

Why the hell was I thinking about Sienna?

I finished my burger and rose unsteadily, walked very deliberately into the living room and dug out DVDs from the entertainment center. Mostly war flicks of my dad's, and I picked Saving Private Ryan. It took me a few attempts to get it into the DVD tray, not to mention get the TV running, and while the credits rolled, I refilled my tumbler.

Shit. I'd left the movie on the menu.

I had to hunt for the remote before I could hit Play, and then I sank into an overstuffed leather chair, sipping my cold, burning drink as D-Day played out before me in the darkness of the way-too-empty house.

I awoke to the feeling of a tongue laving around the sensitive head of my erection.

I looked down to see green eyes look up at me with a sparkle from behind blonde bangs, and then she took me in her mouth, her eyes closing in ecstasy like my prick was the finest chocolate she'd ever tasted.

I wanted to question why and how she was here, but the incredible sensations of pleasure blew away any line of inquiry my alcohol fogged brain could have begun to form.

Up and down, up and down, before pulling off completely and licking me from balls to tip. Back down, and the strap of her nightgown slipped off her shoulder, tantalizing me with the upper curve of her breast. There was a hitch in the blowjob as she straightened it, and then she resumed her oral worship.

Eventually I pulled her up. If I was going to cum in her, I didn't want my first time to be in her mouth.

She stood, nearly as tall as my six foot height, the top of her blond head coming to the bridge of my nose. She was wearing a short, loose, blue lacy babydoll with nothing underneath, the bottom edge barely brushing the bald lips of her pussy. I rested my hands on her hips as I kissed her, and I don't think I've ever kissed anyone as desperately in my life. She returned it with equal passion, and I slipped my hands down to grip and squeeze her firm ass, pulling her to me.

I led her to the bed and she giggled as I pushed her down onto it, then she crawled up and onto the puffy comforter, wiggling her bare bottom at me before crawling beneath the sheets. I climbed in next to her, pulling the blankets around us before pulling her to me again, my hands roaming around her barely covered skin. She kissed me lazily, wetly, one hand gripping and gently pumping my shaft while I trailed my lips over her shoulder, neck, and face.

"Hurt me," she breathed.

"Not yet." I rolled her over, settling on top of her, and her legs naturally rose up to settle around my hips, loosely pulling me towards her. The nightie had ridden up to her waist and my cock brushed against her skin and the sleek, soft strip of blond hair above her clit. I reached down and dragged the head up and down the slippery folds of her pussy before pushing into her. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a silent exclamation, and she was so tight it took three yearning, straining thrusts before I filled her completely. Her hands roamed my back, now exposed to the cool air, and then she grabbed my ass and pumped her hips forward, urging me to drive into her.

I did. Dozens of times. She writhed under me, spurring on my exertions with shifts of her hips, kisses, strokes of her hands. She looked like a dream come true.

Looking down at the blonde beauty laying beneath me, I felt a sudden urge of animal energy as the end approached. I seized her hands, roughly pulling one, then the other above her head, pinning them down as I hammered away, my cock sliding in and out of her liquid heat hard and fast. She screamed and stiffened as she climaxed, and I mashed my lips against hers, driving one last time into her constricting channel as far as possible before my body twitched and throbbed and sprayed hot cum into her over and over and over again.

It felt...perfect.

I awoke to the feeling of the water hitting me in the face turning from lukewarm to cold.

I shook my head, looked blearily around. I was sitting on the tile floor of the walk-in shower stall, the showerhead spitting water directly into my face. The tumbler by my side had either been drank or diluted long ago, because the contents were clear now. I reached up and turned the knob, then staggered to my feet, nearly fell out the door onto the linoleum floor, and went looking for a towel.

Maybe I had a drinking problem.

Or maybe...I just don't do well alone.

Dammit.

A couple of aspirin, about a gallon of water, and a few bread and honey sandwiches the next morning had me sobered up in time to leave that afternoon. Even so, I drove slow, turning the three hour trip into a four meander through the Minnesota countryside. The audiobook didn't hold my interest this time, and I turned it off, sat uncomfortably in the silence. My predilection for self-investigation had taken over, and I kept turning my drunken behavior around and over in my brain, examining my actions and motivations.

Why yesterday, after all this time, had I returned to the morose depression of three years ago?

Was it the location? No, I'd been up here multiple times before and never drank myself unconscious. Mostly I came up with Tori or Tori and another woman, or groups of friends, but I'd been up here alone before.

Was it stress? Aside from some particularly carnal weekends, the last few weeks hadn't been particularly enjoyable, but the middle of a quarter never was for me. I taught accelerated classes, so I worked my ass off for two months and then didn't set foot in a classroom for a month. I'd been doing that for years, that was nothing new.

Was I an alcoholic? Yeah, I relaxed with a drink, but I never had more than one or two. I couldn't remember the last time I'd gotten more than buzzed. And I really only drank Friday and Saturday nights, if I did drink. Could I be an occasional alcoholic?

And why, in my depression induced bender did my mind run to Sienna?

My phone dinged and a picture popped up, a glance showing me a thumbnail of Nina and Tori twisted together in a pornographic embrace. I'd pull it up when I stopped for gas.

My phone dinged a second time, then a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and more, a machine gun stutter of chimes and haptic feedback. The fuck?

I pulled over, pulled up my texts. All Tori. The first was, as I suspected, pornography, her and Nina making out in the shower. The next dozen or so were Tori having a freakout. Stuff like "Call us now!" And "Where are you?" And "Did you hear?" and "Why the fuck haven't you returned my call? I need you right fucking now!"

Oh yeah...

That far north, my phone didn't get any kind of a signal. The cabin, and several dozen miles south of it were a dead zone. I must've just crossed into coverage area.

I called her back immediately. She was hysterical.

"It was probably some dickhole celebrating Halloween a little early," I said, surveying the damage. "We're like a week and a half away. I'll file an insurance claim and get it cleaned up."

The damage was definitely over my deductible and would be covered by insurance. The pranksters had splashed the front of my and Victoria's townhouses with red Plasti-dip. I had to give them credit, they had committed to their prank - that shit was expensive. There was like four hundred dollars of red on the brick, windows, porch, and doors.

Also, concerningly, they'd stabbed kitchen knives into Tori's front door. Those had been taken by police, of course.

But the red paint remained, and so did a feeling of helplessness and violation. Tori and Nina had come back from the class at about ten Saturday night to find the horror themed mess splashed over the front of our houses, and while Nina - used to seeing red liquid and violence in the course of her job - had eventually calmed down, Tori was still amped up.

"Then why the knives?" She practically screamed. "And why only us?"

I had no helpful answer. "I dunno. A couple neighborhood assholes saw some hot girls leaving and decided to be assholes? Immature guys do that stuff. It's nothing to worry about."

"So says you," Tori said with a pout.

"Yeah, says me. If somebody really wanted to hurt you or me or Nina, don't you think they would've broken in? Especially while we were home? And if they were planning on doing it later, all they did was piss us off and make us more alert. This was just a prank. Nina, back me up on this. Right?"

Leaning against Tori's refrigerator, Nina shrugged. "I'm picking up what you're putting down. It makes sense. No one intelligent is going to telegraph a home invasion with some petty vandalism a day or week before. It doesn't happen. And if they do...they're not intelligent. Tori, how many guns do you have scattered around this house?"

Tori pulled a pistol from the small of her back, a ridiculously expensive custom Sig Two Twenty Eight that, with the red dot sight on top, seemed way too big to pull from any holster that could fit on her petite frame. I ducked. "Fuck! Put that thing away!"

"My finger's off the trigger..."

"Tori, put it the fuck away." Nina's voice carried an air of command that mine lacked. I instantly got a vision of her ordering some junkie down while trying to pull a knife out of his chest. And him obeying out of total fear.

The gun vanished behind Tori's back, and I sighed with relief. "Thank you."

"I'm still scared shitless," Tori said petulently.

"And what you're feeling is perfectly valid," I told her. "Nobody's trying to take that from you. But I don't want you to be unduly worried and to start waving guns around. The police said they'd drive past a couple of times an hour, nothing was broken, nothing was destroyed, the house wasn't invaded, and you're still the deadliest little hottie I know. If you want to sleep in my guest bedroom for the next few nights, you can. I mean, if you don't feel safe here, my house is always open to you. We share basements and attics, come over any time you want."