The Devil's Pact Pt. 18

It was sweet torture and I found it hard to pay attention to the movie. But that was alright, the movie was proving to be a big disappointment anyways.

I kissed and sucked at her neck as her pussy massaged my cock. The pressure built slowly in my balls. This was so different than pounding my cock into a slut's cunt until I erupted. I squirmed and my dick throbbed in her embrace. I grit my teeth as the pleasure burned down my shaft.

I wanted to fuck her up and down my cock. I wanted to bend her over the back of the seats and fuck the slut until she screamed out her orgasm for the entire audience to hear.

I fought that urge. I savored the delicious build up of pleasure. My face grew hotter and hotter. Her pussy grew wetter and wetter. She gasped as my finger found her clit. I rubbed her beneath her skirt. She shuddered and leaned her head back on my shoulder.

Her boyfriend sat as stiff as a statue, his hands clenched as he watched the movie.

Nina gasped. Her pussy spasmed about my cock. She had finally cum. Her body bucked in my arms. My cock throbbed in her cumming depths. Her pussy clenched and relaxed, eager to have my cum.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I growled as my balls finally had there release. My cum flooded into her hot depths. Her pussy clamped down. She moaned something as I pumped her virgin pussy full of jizz.

"That's a good slut," I purred as she climbed off of me and sat beside her stiff boyfriend. I had a feeling they wouldn't last much longer. That girl was too hot, and she had a taste of sex now, for the nerd.

The movie ended not long after.

* * *

Brandon Fitzsimmons

I exited Highway 512 in South Hill. My body shook as I navigated the traffic. In a few minutes, I would be at Olympians and have my eyes set on Alison and Desiree. I wore a light jacket even in the June heat.

My new 9mm handgun was holstered beneath. I picked it up at the gun show going on at the Puyallup Fair Grounds. It was easy. I fought through the crowds, stopped at the first stall, and paid cash. No questions were asked and, more importantly, no paper trails were created.

With my gun, I would rescue Desiree from Mark. This was my best chance. She was alone with Alison. And that pink-haired slut would be easy to cow. Maybe I would take Alison, too. Then I could find out why my Desiree was so interested in her.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I waited at a traffic light, remembering Alison's tight, youthful body in the slutty clothes she wore. Her nipples had been pierced, along with her tongue. I bet she would squirm so hard beneath me.

Yes. I should take them both. They both needed rescuing.

A car honked. I opened my eyes. The light was green. I drove through, a big smile on my face. Tonight, I was rescuing my wife from Mark Glassner.

* * *

Mark Glassner

"Did you enjoy the movie, hun?" Mary asked with a giggle, holding onto my arm, as we walked out of the theater into the parking lot.

"Well, I enjoyed Nina," I said.

"Horny stallion," she purred. "I enjoyed her, too."

It was bright outside. The sun was still shining bright. In June, the sun didn't set to almost ten at night.

"Where shall we go for dinner?" Mary asked as we climbed into my Mustang.

"BJs?" I asked.

Mary rubbed my cock through my pants. "I need more than cum to eat, hun."

"I meant the restaurant," I said.

"So you don't want me to suck your cock?" Mary asked with a mischievous grin.

"I always want you to suck my cock," I told her and smiled as she unzipped my pants. I groaned as her mouth sucked my dick into her warm mouth.

My phone rang through the speakers of my car. The car radio was bluetooth enabled and on the display, the caller ID said my mom was on the phone. "She always calls when you're sucking me off," I laughed and hit the call button. "Hey, Mom."

There was silence and then a choking sob echoed through the car speakers.

Frowning, "Mom, what's wrong." Mary released my cock and sat up. "Mom?"

"Mark," a strangled, dead voice said. It was barely recognizable as my mom's voice. "I...I..."

"What is it, Mom?" I asked, panic squeezed my heart.

"Your father...he's d..." She took a deep breath. "He's dead, Mark."

I blinked. "What, Mom?"

Stunned incomprehension rolled through my mind. My bastard of a father was dead. I almost didn't believe it.

Why did I feel so strange? So empty? I hated the man most of my life. Once he hurt his back and went on disability, he changed. He started drinking, and then he started hitting. He treated me like garbage, always beating me for bullshit reasons. He used to beat my mom, too, always for the same stupid bullshit. Dinner wasn't ready. The house wasn't clean. There was no beer in the fridge. It was the worst when he was drunk.

And he was always drunk.

So why didn't I feel happy or elated? My mom was free of him. Hell, why didn't I even feel sad? I felt nothing, just emptiness. My father was dead and I didn't seem to care.

"How did he die?" I heard myself ask.

Mary squeezed my hand, sympathy painting her face.

"I shot him," Mom answered.

To be continued...