The Carpet Ch. 03

Thanks to SexyKitty_B for editing.

On my hands and knees, I crawled over to my bra and panties and ducked behind the nearest tree. As I put on my underwear again, I glanced at the house, seeing Cliff walking up to the back of the house. Part of me considered just walking up to him and letting him have his way with me. After all, he'd seen me naked countless of times and in far worse shape than this.

However, I had no idea of how I would explain all the cum clinging to my body -- without a man in sight. Besides, I didn't know whether he was alone or not. For all I knew, his wife Debbie was still waiting in the car. I didn't want to get him into any trouble.

Against better judgement, I waited and hoped that he would just leave. Unfortunately, after banging on the back door for a while, he walked down the garden stairs, heading in my direction. Realizing that I'd be hard to miss, in my white underwear and yellow boots, I anxiously looked around for a better place to hide.

Unfortunately, suitable hiding places were in short supply. Reluctantly and acting on instinct, I grasped several large, thick branches and crawled over to the puddle. I hesitated for several seconds, but as I heard Cliff's voice calling out for me, heading straight for me, I lowered myself into the puddle, legs first.

Even after everything I had seen and experienced, it still surprised me how deep and boundless the puddle was. Everything except my head was in, and still, I couldn't feel anything resembling a bottom or base. The liquid was surprisingly warm.

The whole endeavor scared me a little bit, but the desire not to get caught in this ridiculous and questionable position overcame my fear, and so I pulled the branches over the puddle as much as possible, concealing myself.

Barely twenty seconds later, Cliff passed within five feet of the puddle -- fortunately without detecting me. To my horror, the puddle chose this particular moment to enter me, through my panties. And not just my already sensitive cunt, but also my ass.

"Seriously?" I whispered, annoyed at the bad timing, but not the act itself. I didn't fight it, mainly because I couldn't afford to draw attention to myself, but also because I didn't actually mind being taken advantage of, even in this vulnerable position. In no time at all, I was raunchy again.

As Cliff was moving into a different section of the garden -- safely out of range -- I started taking the puddle's abuse and eagerly allowed it to fuck me in both holes as hard as it saw fit. When I felt my right boot getting pulled off my leg, I realized that I was going to lose another set of clothes. I snickered at my own discomfort and silliness... and then did nothing to stop it.

My left boot quickly followed. Then, my panties were yanked down and disappeared into the seemingly endless depth. Feeling like a dumb whore, I held on to the edge with just one hand as I used the other to unhook my bra, assisting the puddle in my own destruction.

As soon as it was unhooked, I switched hands and pulled my arms out of the straps, surrendering my bra to the lusty liquid all around me. As it sank to the depths of the puddle, probably never to be seen again, I moaned softly as the liquid kept fucking me.

It wasn't trying to make me cum. It was just toying with me, filling and stretching my holes -- and in the meantime squeezing and molesting my tits. And I was letting it... I was even enjoying it. My god, I was such an easy slut!

I noticed Cliff walking by, twice more. Luckily, he didn't pay any attention to the branches covering me or the puddle. If push came to shove, the only play I had left was to submerge myself, but I really didn't want to do that. As long as at least some part of me was out in the open -- and not in the liquid -- I told myself that I was still in control.

Of course, I was just kidding myself. Deep down, I knew that the puddle could easily pull me under at will. The very fact that I was still breathing, was because it allowed me to do so. I was so very vulnerable and so fucking horny...

A few minutes later, I heard Cliff's car drive off. Instead of getting out of the puddle, I simply stayed where I was and let it have its vile way with me some more. Unfortunately, as soon as the danger of me getting caught had passed, the liquid seemed to lose interest and slowly receded from my holes. It was just toying with me -- having no real interest in giving me any pleasure.

Frustrated and disappointed, I began hoisting myself out of the liquid, clawing at the muddy soil next to the puddle. Suddenly however, as I was about halfway out, I was violently yanked down and completely submerged for about four seconds.

As soon as I was allowed to surface again, I gasped for air -- confused and frightened. My lunges had barely filled up with air, when the puddle did it again. This time, I was kept under for a lot longer. It felt like ten or twelve seconds. When I was finally allowed to rise to the surface, I could feel the liquid penetrating me, again.

Although the perverted part of me actually enjoyed this absurd treatment, the more rational part of me started panicking -- wondering why on Earth the puddle would choose this awkward moment to start fucking me again. Unlike the carpet, which had always been gentle -- albeit mischievous -- and never crossed a specific line, this... puddle thing felt different somehow.

Especially in my current, vulnerable position, it could pose an actual threat. After again allowing me to surface and cling to the edge for a few seconds to catch my breath, I was yanked under once more -- with such force and determination that my arms were raised above my head. I screamed under water and desperately splashed around, trying to reach the surface.

This vicious game of 'catch and release' continued for quite some time -- pulling me under time and again, keeping me submerged for ten to fifteen seconds at a time. I had to time my breathing precisely as I rarely got more than about two seconds, before it yanked me back down.

On several occasions, my timing was slightly off and so I was forced to spit out water -- sperm, or whatever this thing was made of -- that made it into my mouth. The relentless fucking combined with the prolonged, instinctive fear of drowning proved a powerful combination and caused me to have a series of extremely powerful orgasms.

Old Pinky wasn't just abusing me. It was exhausting me... punishing me and completely wearing me down. Many scary, confusing, yet rewarding minutes later, my strength started to diminish, and I had to stop fighting -- and focus exclusively on my breathing. Without me struggling, the puddle quickly lost interest into what it was doing.

Suddenly, I was powerfully propelled out of the liquid and landed flat on my stomach -- and face -- in the mud. Completely worn out and dog-tired, I laid my left cheek on the ground and rested there for a bit, believing I was now safe from its abuse.

When after several minutes, I had somewhat recuperated and caught my breath, I slowly propped myself up on my elbows. That's when I felt the liquid wrap itself around my left foot and give me a violent, brief tug, causing me to lose my balance and fall flat on my face in the mud... again.

Learning from my mistake, I quickly rolled over to my left side -- and away from the puddle. However, as soon as I looked at it again, my boots came flying out, with great force. The left one hit me in the face, the right one smack on the forehead, causing me to topple backwards.

In full panic mode, I snatched up my yellow boots and began spurting towards the house, realizing that the further away from the puddle I was, the safer I'd be. Once back in the house, I threw the boots on the kitchen floor and headed up to take a warm shower. Afterwards, I put on one of my sleeping robes and sat down in the living room, contemplating the whole incident.

Before just now, I could have blamed my blackouts for the messes I seem to stumble into, but this one had been all me. I had initiated contact. There was nothing or no one else to blame, but my own addiction to nasty sex and glorious abuse. I guess deep down I knew that I was still the same old slut, ready for just about anything at the drop of a hat.

But why was this puddle so different from the carpet I had known and worshipped. Was it angry? Was it trying to get back at me for abandoning it? Had it been waiting and resenting me all this time? Or was it simply giving it to me a little harder, sensing that that was what I wanted? Although it had been quite boorish and extremely disrespectful, I couldn't say that I hadn't liked every bit of it!

Although I wasn't really scared of the puddle -- even after what it had just done to me -- it did give me the creeps. That being said, I knew that I couldn't -- and wouldn't -- stay away from it. It exerted too much of an attraction, and I was too much of a pervert. That much was clear. So, my options seemed quite limited.

Many minutes later, as I was still thinking and weighing my options, there was a loud knock on the door. When I heard Cliff calling out my name, moment later, I suddenly thought of an option I hadn't previously considered: what about a partner in crime?

I got up and opened the front door.

"Ah," Cliff sighed relieved, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am fine," I replied as I let him in. My gaze instantly went down to his crotch, which was positively bulging. My pussy tingled. God, was I still horny after all that fucking and abuse?

"I came calling a while back, but there was no reply..." he said, genuinely worried.

"Yeah, sorry about that! I was... uh masturbating... in the basement," I fibbed, thinking on my feet.

"Oh," he replied, taken a bit aback, looking me up and down, his eyes lingering at my tits.

"Uh... no problem... I uh... was just worried after our phone call yesterday... you know about that carpet thingy?"

"Right," I replied as I closed the door, "Don't worry about that, sometimes I just get nostalgic."

"So... you're okay?" he double-checked.

"I am," I smiled, "Can I get you something to drink?"

He looked at his watch, then back at me and said, "Coffee, if you've got some."

"Coming right up," I said, walking into the kitchen.

"Mind if I take a look around? I am curious to see what you've done with the place."

"Be my guest," I replied, "I can give you a complete tour later on, if you'd like."

As I turned on the coffee maker and gathered some milk, sugar and cookies on a tray, I heard him moving about all over the place, opening doors and flicking on several light switches.

"Say, you've got just the one door leading to the basement, right?" Cliff asked, a few minutes later, as he walked back into the kitchen.

"Yeah," I replied, not yet realizing what he was playing at.

"There's no light down there," he grinned.

"Uh no... not yet," I stammered.

"There's no staircase, it's just a ladder," he added, boldly reaching out and squeezing my left tit.

"The old staircase was completely rotten, the contractor is going to put a new one in," I answered, ignoring his hand.

"And there's water down there," he continued, as he softly tugged my nipple, "Quite a lot too."

Unwilling to admit to a lie, I said -- thinking on my feet -- "That's why I have those."

When he followed my gaze to the drenched yellow boots, in the far corner of the kitchen, he no longer had any reason not to believe me.

"Fuck," he gasped.

"So... you climbed down that ladder, wearing those... and then you masturbated in complete darkness and in five inches of water?" he summarized, as he moved his hand to my other tit and gave my right nipple a naughty tweak.

"Yeah, why?" I fibbed, pretty wet by now.

"I would have loved to have seen that," he admitted, cupping his crotch, with his free hand.

"Well," I whispered, turning off the coffee maker, "How about I just do it again then?"

"Would you?" he gasped, pleasantly surprised.

"I was going to do it again later anyway," I whispered as I walked over to my boots and stepped into them. After taking a few steps, I looked behind me and realized that I was leaving wet footprints all over the kitchen floor. I didn't really mind, but it gave me a wicked idea -- one that Cliff would surely appreciate.

"Oops, better dry these off first," I whispered as I lowered the flimsy straps of my sleeping gown, letting it slide down my body onto my wet, soiled boots. Then, I started using the delicate fabric to rub the boots dry. First the left one, then the right one.

Cliff, appreciating the futility of what I was doing, promptly fished his fat dick out of his pants and started pumping it. When all of the yellow plastic had been cleaned, I stepped out my gown and sat down on the nearest kitchen chair. For the next fifteen seconds, I let Cliff take a good, long look at my big tits. I was so raunchy that I even opened my legs a little bit.

Then, I turned the gown inside out and put my left foot on my right knee -- the sole of my left foot pointing to the side.

"I'd better do the bottom too," I grinned, looking into his eyes as I began cleaning the muddy sole of my left boot with the unsoiled side of my sleeping gown.

"Shit," Cliff gasped as he jerked off even harder and faster.

I took my time and completely cleaned one sole, then the other. Cliff continued staring at me, jacking his fat cock right there in my kitchen, openly lusting after me.

"There... all clean," I chuckled as I got up, about thirty seconds later.

To his shock, I straightened out my gown and then put it back on, bringing the muddy, drenched fabric in direct contact with my skin.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he gasped, "You're such a filthy slut!"

I chuckled as I glanced down at his right hand, now a complete blur on his cock. Judging by his breathing and the color of his tip, I knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"And now for the main event," I whispered temptingly, as I walked out of the kitchen, into the hallway, heading for the basement.

I opened the door, carefully stepped onto the ladder and climbed down. Upon reaching the bottom, I realized that there was nearly eight inches of water in the basement -- instead of the initial estimated five. Too horny to back down, I stepped off the ladder and slowly squatted down, holding onto the ladder with my left hand.

Even as I felt the cold water against my bare ass -- and flirting with the rim of my boots -- I put my right hand under my gown and promptly slipped two fingers into my pussy. Both my twat and my hand repeatedly touched the water, but I didn't care. I was down there to put on a show, and that's exactly what I was going to do.

Hearing and seeing me finger myself in that ludicrous position was too much for poor Cliff -- especially after the tugging he'd already given himself.

"Oh... oh shit... fuck," he screamed as he violently started wobbling his spasming dick in his half-open fist, sending several small ribbons and dozens of drops of cum raining down on me. Unfortunately, most of them missed me all together, except for a few drops in my face and my hair.

His timing was perfect! I had barely been down there for half a minute. It made the whole endeavor seem even more pointless and shameful. As soon as he was done, I got up and climbed up the ladder again. Cliff reached out his right hand and assisted me with the last few rungs.

I rewarded his gallantry by dropping to my knees in front of him and taking his half-hard dick in my slut mouth. After playfully sucking on his cock for about a minute, I briefly gave his nutsack a long, slow lick and then got back up. As I looked him in the eye, I pulled my drenched gown over my head and threw it down into the basement.

"My god," he gasped, pleasantly shocked at my behavior.

"Still the same dirty slut, I see," he chuckled as he followed me back into the kitchen.

"You have no idea," I grinned.

"Do you do that often? You know, this kind of stuff," he asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table, while gawking at my naked body.

"Honestly? Every chance I get," I admitted, recalling all my recent escapades in and around the puddle, "It's pretty much all I can think of, all day long."

"Are you serious?" he asked, baffled, "All day, every day?"

"Lately? Yes, pretty much," I grinned, nodding my head.

"Fuck, then I'd better pop one of these bad boys," he whispered, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny box with blue pills. He took one and gulped it down, along with half a glass of water.

"And while we wait for your little pill to kick in, I can give you that tour, if you'd like," I offered.

When Cliff didn't immediately reply, I realized that he wasn't keen on the idea.

"Or..." I grinned, "... I don't mind working for it, you know."

"Thank god," he whispered, "I really don't give a fuck about the house."

I chuckled, as if what he'd just said wasn't extremely offensive and demeaning.

"Would you mind... getting on your back then?" he asked, tapping the kitchen table.

I grinned and slowly laid down on top of the wooden surface. As I hung my head down the far end of the table, I raised my legs high and wide - pointing my wet pussy straight at Cliff. He promptly removed my drenched boots and casually threw them clear across the room. Then, he slowly walked around to the far end of the table and started dragging his flaccid cock over my lips, mouth, chin and nose.

"You don't have anywhere to be, do you?" he asked, after about a whole minute of rubbing his junk all over my slut face.

"No, right here is just fine!" I whispered as I stuck out my tongue and eagerly began licking his balls and his tiny dick.

"Oh, fucking whore," he grunted.

It took him about ten minutes to get fully hard again. Once he was up for it, he slid his cock in my mouth and started fucking it. When he'd had his fun in my piehole, he pulled out and walked around the table, hooked his arms under my knees and rammed his now hard, fat dick into my aching pussy.

With my head still hanging down the far side of the table, I started moaning and squealing like a high school slut. I could have lifted my head, thereby making the experience considerably more comfortable for myself, but... I really liked that uncomfortable and humiliating position, so I didn't.

I passionately groped my own tits and squealed like a pig as his rock-hard cock kept pounding into me, relentlessly. He only stopped once in a while, to walk back up to my head and shove his hard, wet dick in my mouth. I didn't particularly care for the taste of my own pussy, but as it was the only reprieve my already battered cunt got, I gladly sucked and cleaned his cock for about thirty seconds at a time - letting my overheated twat cool down for a little bit.

But whether his huge dick was grazing my cervix or clogging up my throat, I couldn't help but think back to the puddle - wishing that I was back there, getting abused and disrespected even harder. Now, Cliff knew how to be a real asshole. I had trained him well over the years.

He rarely ever made me cum and this time was no exception. I came close a few times, but of course, he chose those moments to pull out, walk over to my face and make me suck him. I loved having my mouth reduced to nothing more than a carwash for his dick, each time he'd been balls deep in my soaking wet cunt.

After fucking and using both my holes to his hearth's content for almost fifteen minutes straight, Cliff suddenly began convulsing. He was hard at work in my twat at the time and screamed at the top of his lunges, "Here it comes, bitch!"

For a moment, I thought he was simply going to dump it inside of me, but then he pulled out and rushed over to my face. He barely made it. I grinned wickedly, closed my eyes and took a gooey, disgusting facial - my tongue hanging lewdly out of my wide-open mouth.