Red Roses

"Is that all you got?"

My jaw fell open. Was she really trying to fucking taunt me? "What?"

Her voice was venomous. "Is that all you got, you limp-dick loser? My grandmother fucks better than you."

She wants me to pound her. All right then.

I released her left arm, grabbed her hips and ratcheted up my speed, pistoning my cock in and out of her ass. Trish grunted and moaned. Her face went down into the carpet. Her left arm stretched out in front of her.

Because I'd just come a little while before, I was able to take my time and plunder her butt for a good fifteen minutes. Trish grunted and bucked the entire time. I lost track of her right arm. When I thought about it, I realized it was under her and her hand was in her pussy.

She's actually frigging her clit while I fuck her ass.

Every few minutes a small orgasm would wrack her frame. Trish trembled with each one. I kept up the pace, steadily burying my cock in her ass, again and again.

I felt my orgasm building. I picked up the pace again, trying to be sure not go too deep. Trish moaned along with me. I pulled her hips as I pounded her again and again. Just as my dick erupted, filling her bowels with my cum, Trish screamed louder than she had to this point. Her entire body leapt and quivered like she was having a seizure. I kept inside her but released my grip on her hips. Trish slumped to the floor.

My softening cock slithered out of her with a soft pop. I sat back and stared at her. Trish lay on the floor, whimpering. Her body was still twitching. Her hips clenched and unclenched as the aftershocks of her enormous orgasm continued to roll through her.

I helped Trish to her feet. Okay, I basically pulled her up. Her eyes were unfocused. I all but dragged her back to her bedroom and laid her face down on the bed. I snapped the handcuffs back on her wrists and staggered to her bathroom. I found a washcloth, soaked it with warm water and antibacterial soap, and thoroughly washed my shrinking dick. Wash, rinse, repeat.

I came back to the bedroom. Trish still had not recovered. She scarcely moved when I sat on the bed.

"Had enough yet, slut?"

Trish's voice was tired but still defiant. "I can take whatever you dish out, dickhole."

"That's what I like to hear."

I fetched my bag and withdrew a two-headed vibrator. I'd found it at a sex shop earlier that day, after remembering an ex-girlfriend raving about one. One head was intended for penetration, the other for a clit massage. I thumbed the power switch and both started moving.

Since Trish was on her belly, I grabbed a pillow, lifted her pelvis, and shoved it underneath. I spread her legs apart. She did not resist either movement. I lay between her legs and maneuvered the vibrator into position. When the head touched her clit, she merely moaned. I shifted, allowing the vibrating dildo head into her pussy. Trish buried her head her pillow.

I worked on her for about thirty minutes. She had several more orgasms, accompanied by moans and spasms, though they got successively weaker. By the time she had the last one, she could only gasp and convulse just a little.

I gently removed the vibrator and tossed it aside on the bed. For the last few minutes, I'd been stroking myself and gotten back to half-staff. I took the bag off the bed and unlocked her. I wondered if she would try to resist again but she simply laid there. I flipped Trish on her back and dragged her to the edge of the bed. Her eyes were filled with a heavy-lidded languor. I sat propped her up so that she was half-sitting and recuffed her, with her arms over her head.

I put the key down and faced her again, stroking my cock, which was now a little harder. "Open your mouth."

She stared at me, as if not understanding.

I grabbed her hair and pulled. She winced. "Open your goddamn mouth!"

Her jaw dropped open, forming a near-perfect "o" with her lips. I moved up and shoved my dick in her mouth. "Suck!"

Trish slowly moved her head back and forth. I am not sure what she was thinking, but watching my best friend wrap her lips around my cock was bringing me back up to rock hard status in no time.

I started to work my hips, thrusting in time with her suction. I moved my right hand down to her pussy and gently stroked her clit and her lips as she sucked me.

She closed her eyes and I rapped her forehead with my knuckles. Her eyes flew open. "Look at me, whore. Look in my eyes as you suck my cock." She nodded slightly, keeping her eyes on mine.

She's not fighting me now. She must be exhausted.

I had a sudden desire to bring this to a close. When I had her blow me, I was thinking it was to get me hard enough so I could fuck her again. But Trish was about to fall over and I was feeling the effects myself. So I decided to end it.

I placed one hand on each side of her head and increased my speed. My thrusts grew more aggressive and frenzied until she wasn't blowing me but I was fucking her face.

Trish gagged and coughed as my the head of my cock hit the back of her throat. Moisture filled her eyes but she never looked away from me.

I felt it coming again. My breath came in ragged pants as I slammed my hips into her face. Cum boiled out of my dick one last time. Trish coughed and sputtered; my spunk oozed from her mouth and ran down her chin.

I stepped back from her. Trish fell back against the iron bars, her eyes glazed.

I went back to the bathroom, found another washcloth, cleaned up my junk and returned, clutching the cloth. I looked at Trish.

She still slumped against the wrought iron, with her legs splayed open. Her eyes were half-closed, her gaze distant. Her hair was sweaty and matted. Saliva and cum covered her chin. Her tits were peppered with bite marks. Her crotch was a half-dried mess of sweat, my cum, and her own juices. With slight alarm, I could see bruises already developing on the inside of her thighs.

I pulled my clothes on quickly and gathered up everything. The last thing I did was unlock her from the headboard. Trish rolled over on the bed, facing away from me, and curled up on her side. I dropped the handcuffs in the bag and only then realized I was still holding the washcloth. I brought it out because I was going to wipe her face with it but I realized that would be way too incongruous with the rest of the evening's tone.

I tossed it at her. The cloth hit Trish in the butt and she flinched. "Clean yourself up, would you?"

I turned out the bedside light, turned out the living room light, unlocked the kitchen deadbolt, activated the regular lock, and left. I glanced at the dash clock when I got in the car.

1:29. Huh. Seemed like a lot longer.

I drove home in a mild daze. My mind was numb as I sleepwalked through the shower. I all but fell into bed and dropped into a dreamless sleep.

I spent most of Saturday pondering what had happened. The events of the night were already ethereal and dreamlike, as if they had happened a long time ago or to someone else. I spent most of the day wondering if I would get an angry phone call, or a visit from the police. I wondered if I would ever hear from Trish again. I wondered if I had destroyed our friendship.

I also spent a lot of time trying to decide what was wrong with me. I went into the deal to protect Trish from getting really hurt by someone, and yeah, to have a chance to fuck an atheletic, good-looking girl.

If I could have protected her without fucking her, would I have?

The thing is, I knew the answer was yes. If I thought I could have talked her out of it or got her to do something else, I would have passed on the chance to have sex with her. Trish could be as stubborn as they come and once she got an idea in her head, it was hard to dislodge it. I didn't see any good way I could protect her without either agreeing or alienating her, so I agreed to it.

So why had had I reveled in the evening when it was so harsh?

I had to accept that I enjoyed it so much because it was Trish.

I'd never even come close to pushing my luck with a girl unless I was certain she wanted sex. Quite the opposite, I'd been told I missed opportunities by walking away when I wasn't sure about a girl's level of interest. I wasn't interested in hurting or dominating people. But when Trish asked me to do just that, I knew it was for her. I was protecting her from potential danger and all the things I did to her were to make her happy. If it made her happy, it made me happy, which meant I was able to enjoy myself to the level I did.

It was thin, but I had to accept that ... unless I wanted to accept that I was a monster.

And it was one time. It was done now. She'd had her experience. It was probably the one chance I would have in my lifetime to take it to that level with my favorite person in the world. I took the opportunity, reveled in it, and that too was over.

I just hope she was right and it didn't change things. I was skeptical but there was little to be done about it now.

Trish didn't call or come over on Saturday. Neither did the cops, thankfully. I wanted to text her but didn't have the slightest idea what to say. I puttered around until bedtime and got a restless night of sleep.

Sunday about noon, I heard my phone chirp. I grabbed it. It was Trish.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Justin. How you doing?"

"Uhm, good. You?"

"You know, same old same old." Her voice was cheery. I listened for undertones but there were none. "Hey Falcons and Panthers are on at six tonight. Want to go down to O'Malley's to watch?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, sounds good."

"Great. Jim and Tina said they'd be there."

"Okay, see you at six."

"Bye bye!"

I hung up and considered what had just happened. There was nothing in her voice to suggest that anything had happened the other night. She sounded the same as always.

Okay, I thought. If she can maintain our friendship at the same level it was, so can I. I think.

I showed at O'Malley's a few minutes early. Trish wasn't there yet so I found a table. Just as the waitress took my order for a pitcher, I saw her come in.

She wore a Falcons jersey, a pair of faded jeans, and sandals. She had a ballcap on her head and her hair was gathered in two braided pigtails resting on her collarbones. An all-American girl.

Who fucks like nothing I have ever seen.

She bounded up to the table, smiling her dimpled smile, and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, guy!'

Her scent almost overwhelmed me. I forced a smile to my face. "Hey, you. Sit, have a beer."

She grabbed the pitcher and a glass. "Hell yeah, I will." She poured. "How was your weekend?"

"Fine, I just kind of hung out at home. You?"

"Good, a little sore."

"Uh, really?"

"Yeah, I added an extra workout today and yesterday." She stared into her beer. "I think I overdid it."

"Oh, sorry."

She shrugged. "Live and learn."

The double-entendre was about as plain as could be. Had she worked out? I said she was a fitness nut. She had done two-a-days many times in the past. Had she really overdone it? Was she having regrets? Or was she just fucking with me?

I glanced at her and thought I caught a tiny smile on her face. It vanished as fast as it came.

Women. If live to be a hundred, I will never understand them.

Our friends Jim and Tina arrived and joined us. They were recently married and a lot of fun. We watched the game, cheered on the Falcons, teased each other, and generally had a good time for four hours. She smiled and laughed, touched my arm as she always had, and was just as much fun to be around as ever.

But like a car that has a new fender put on and the paint doesn't quite match, I knew it would never be exactly the same.

When the game was over, we had to head home, with work in the morning. I'd gotten a little more reserved at the end of the evening. I doubt Jim and Tina had noticed but Trish had. Her eyes kept wandering to me. I could tell she knew what I was thinking.

Monday was hectic at work, so I managed to make it though the day without thinking about Trish more than once every ten minutes or so. Tuesday was slower, so I had a lot of time for my mind to torture me. I thought about her the whole drive home. I wasn't sure what we were going to do. Could our friendship endure after what happened? Could I make the effort to keep it going? Did I want to keep it the same way as it had always been? The image of Trish on all fours on her living room floor, thrusting her hips back against me, flashed through my mind. Our connection—physical, mental, and spiritual—had been unbelievable. And I'd never have the whole package again. That thought was agony.

Then I realized if my choice was not having Trish in my bed or not having her in my life at all, that was an easy choice.

When I got home, I checked the mail. There was a black envelope in the mix.

I walked inside, tossed my briefcase and the rest of the mail on the couch. I stared at the envelope for a long time. With a sigh, I opened it. There was a card inside.

Fantastic. Everything I hoped for and more. I pray you have no regrets because I have none. No matter what happened or happens, I hope you still think of me as your best friend. Thank you for being mine.

I nodded, finally accepting it. I didn't abandon her before over her desires, and I couldn't do it now. We'd stay the same. I'd love to have her again. But even if that didn't happen, I'd never give her up all together.

#

Over the next six months, things returned to near normal. I grew more relaxed and normal around Trish, to the point where even if we were alone, I didn't feel the need to be on guard. If she had misgivings, she kept her own counsel. We still did stuff and it got to the point where I could spend an evening with her without envisioning us fucking the hell out of each other.

Strange as it seems, it did seem to bring us even closer. The experience—a secret which only we shared—was another tie uniting Trish and me. There were marriages where the partners didn't show each other the trust and loyalty we'd given one another. I know I was more subdued around her for a while, and she was more cheery and upbeat than usual, as if we were both trying to assure ourselves that everything was normal. It took time but as we both realized the sky wasn't falling, an unspoken understanding seemed to develop. I loved Trish as a friend before, and that was even more amplified now.

Did I love her more than that? I refused to consider that until I worked through the other feelings.

After her last message, I waited a day or two and used one of the message envelopes she'd given me. I wrote:

You will always be my best friend, no matter what. I will cherish the memory of this experience. It was amazing. I am honored you trusted and loved me enough to share it with me just once. I understand if it never happens again, and I won't think of you any different.

A few days later, she responded:

The agreement remains in effect until terminated as outlined in the Ground Rule 11.

I snorted when I read that. I figured she knew exactly how much our time meant to me and she didn't want to hurt me with an abrupt shut-down. I'd love to feel the heat of her skin on mine, hear her panting in ecstasy, taste her sweetness of her essence again ... but it wasn't going to happen. I knew that. I considered just sending her a card with the words, "I'm Out" to end my torment but something stubborn in my brain said I should make her do it.

Over time, I put that in the back of my mind. No new black envelopes appeared and our relationship assumed a degree of normalcy.

Trish did date the guy Matt from her office a few times. I felt a surge of jealousy over that. I wondered if she was sleeping with him. It was none of my business and even the thought made me a tremendous hypocrite. I had started dating a woman named Liz and was banging the hell out of her regularly. Liz wasn't on birth control, so I was back to using condoms. Our sex life was pretty traditional. I kept an eye on my own behavior to see if I had any notions of roughing her up or getting dominant but I never felt even the remotest need.

Liz was a little leery of my relationship with Trish but after she got to know her, Liz stopped worrying.

Trish's relationship with Matt fizzled out and she didn't go out with anyone for a while. When I asked her why she hadn't been dating, she just shrugged and said, "Eh, haven't really felt it with anyone lately." She didn't say so, but I got the impression she was waiting for something.

About a month later, Liz and I kind of reached the conclusion that we weren't really going anywhere and mutually called it off. I think she had her eye on a guy at her office and that was fine. I wasn't feeling it anymore either.

Trish and I continued to hang out with our friends and the night in question faded into memory. My memories were good. It was a hell of a sex session. I helped and protected my friend. I hadn't turned into some kind of serial rapist. Nothing had fundamentally changed.

It was about a month after I broke up with Liz. It was at end of the work week and I was kind of bored. I had no plans for the evening, so I called Trish. "Hey, lady."

"Hey, Justin. What's up?"

"Want to come over and watch a movie tonight? I'll order pizza."

"Oh, I can't. I started that new workout plan, remember?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll be at the gym for a few hours tonight. I probably won't get home until nine. I plan on taking a long hot shower from nine-thirty to ten, then getting in bed with a book and a glass of wine."

"Oh, okay. Well, enjoy your workout."

She giggled. "You too."

She disconnected before I could tell her I didn't have a workout planned. I shrugged, chalking it up to her being distracted at work or something.

Traffic was light so I got home in decent time. I was already thinking about changing and heading over to O'Malley's, to see if I could catch a pickup game of darts. I was almost to the door when I noticed it.

A red rose.

I halted in place, not believing what I saw.

I think I stood there for several long minutes. Finally, I plucked the rose from its perch, opened the door, and went inside. As I sat on my couch, Trish's words on the phone echoed through my mind: I plan on taking a shower from nine-thirty to ten ...

I stared at the rose for a long time. We had just gotten that can of worms back in the tin. What would it mean for us to re-open it?

I suddenly thought of the British special forces branch called the Special Air Service. Their unofficial motto was, "Who dares, wins." I knew what it meant: sometimes the rewards are so great that chances have to me taken.

At long last, I smiled. I knew there was only one real question now.

Would I have enough time to ravage her properly before the hot water ran out?

END

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