The Misogynist Ch. 04

She half whispered half-whimpered. "I love you Turner."

He continued to caress her breasts. Even for a big girl they felt good. He worked his hand down around and over her stomach. He felt her tense up slightly so he simply rested his hand there while he kissed her lips and kept applying affection to her neck and head with his right hand.

He returned to her stomach with his left hand. He played with her navel. She wriggled a little. He leaned down and kissed her navel.

He took his hand and started to squeeze and compress slowly and carefully as he dropped lower to her abdomen. Finally he reached her vaginal area. She was certainly nervous and scared, he could sense that, but there was something else going on too. Her natural womanly needs were starting to kick in. He pressed his hand against her vagina. The soft clean skin, free of body hair, its velvety softness, was highly erotic.

While kissing her lips and face with more fervor, Turner started to softly rub up and down her labial lips. He felt her press back with her hips. He continued to rub up and down, first softly, then firmly. He allowed one finger to slide up and down just on the outer edge between her lower lips. She quivered. He did it again. She responded by pressing further against him. She wrapped her arms around his head and shoulders.

Turner allowed himself to lean down and kiss her breasts, gently sucking on each protruding nipple. He used his tongue to lick around her aureole and flick softly against her nipples. The reaction was electric. He could sense her joy. With his tongue and mouth exploring her breasts, his right hand holding her head and neck firmly but not too tightly, and his left hand pressing then penetrating the inner sides of her labial lips he knew he was pushing her in directions and toward feelings completely new to her.

He rolled closer so that his penis pressed against the side of her body. He felt her stiffen. He took her right hand and pulled it down so that it touched his manhood. She didn't fight him, but she didn't do anything more than just let her hand rest there. It was good enough.

He used his left hand to penetrate a little further inside her vagina. It was warm and wet. He started to slather her juices from the inner areas of her vagina to the outer areas around the surface of her labia. He got her nice and wet. He reached his left arm around her lower back and pulled her forward so that she pressed against his lower abdomen and his penis. He pressed his penis harder against her, while he used his hand to pull her closer and a little further downward. Her vagina was pressed exactly against his penis. His manhood was just against her labia. He started to slowly undulate up and down, allowing his shaft to slide softly against the outside of her vagina.

Cheryl pushed against him slightly. She whispered. "No don't. I'm afraid."

He whispered back. "I love you. I won't hurt you. This is what love is darling."

He called her darling. She was scared. His thing was right against her. If she let him, she knew it would hurt. She'd read about it. She knew it would hurt terribly. But she felt so good. His body felt so firm, strong, powerful. He loved her. She heard him say it. He called her his darling.

He kept up the pressure. He used his fingers to gently open her labial crevice. He pressed his penis in between her lips. He hadn't penetrated her vagina, but he was almost inside. He pushed just a little more and felt the outer edges of her womb. He could slam it in if he wanted to, but the pain might be too much and would ruin the moment. He pressed a little more allowing the head of his cock to just break into the outer edge of her uterus.

Cheryl felt his penis against her vagina. She felt it as it swiped between her labial lips. The head of his thing kept touching her clitoris as it went up and down outside her vagina. It felt so good. It felt exciting. She was so sensitive. God she never dreamed how it would really feel. Then she felt him as his thing just punched against and then barely slipped inside her puss. It hurt a little, but was such a new sensation. It was the first time something beside a tampon or one of her fingers had ever gone in there. This was bigger than a finger and bigger than a tampon, and it was hotter than anything she'd ever felt! Oh God she thought, what if he went in further. It would surely hurt.

Turner pressed in a little further. He had to think about something else, anything else, if he didn't he'd pop his cork then and there. He regained control. He pushed in further. He heard her gasp.

She whimpered. "Oh it hurts Turner."

He knew it was time. It was going to hurt, hurt a lot, but it was too late to pull out. He pressed in further.

Cheryl reached down with her hands to try to push him away, but he was too strong, and she was too weak. Not weak from weak muscles, but some other kind of weakness! Sure she was weaker than he was, but she felt weak more like she couldn't get coordinated. She kept having these strong sensations, these emotional spasms, a quivering feeling, and loss of equilibrium. She couldn't explain it. It was odd and crazy, but crazy in a good way and in a bad way at the same time. She whimpered. "Oh Turner. Oh Turner." She wanted him to go on. She wanted it to stop. Afraid! Excited! Lost!

Turner slowly but surely pressed all the way in. It was tight, but he'd been in tighter spots. He attributed her lack of extreme narrowness to her naturally larger body. It was still tight though, and felt incredibly good.

Cheryl started crying. She was weeping and moaning. It hurt! Got it hurt! He was tearing her open! But it felt good too. He was inside her body. He was inside her. She'd never, ever, felt anything like what was happening to her.

Turner was all the way in. In as far as he could go. He didn't move, didn't pump, didn't try to add or decrease the pleasure or pain. He needed to feel the sensation of power and control, and he felt she needed to feel him inside her.

After several more seconds of inertia he slowly started to slide, or rather squeeze, in and out. The more he moved the easier it became, but she was still tight! He felt the need to go! He started pressing in and out trying to get in further and trying to move faster. Then it hit! He couldn't hold out any longer. He rammed in as hard and as far as he could. He discharged his semen into her vagina! He shot his load!

She was excited. It hurt. It felt good. It was sore! It was delightful! Then she suddenly felt his thing it was getting bigger inside her, and then she felt his stuff. He was pouring himself inside her. God he was ejaculating his sperm into her pussy. It felt wonderful, and it was hot. His sperm went really deep up inside. Way up further than he was. It was so hot! Oh no! She was going to get pregnant! Oh my! A baby! She didn't care. It would be his baby. Turner's baby!

She wrapped her arms around him. Oh how she loved this man. His thing was getting smaller! She could feel it shrinking. Why was that? She didn't want it to get smaller. She still felt so wildly excited. Was that the end? Wasn't there anymore? Oh it didn't matter. She'd had sex for the first time. She'd had sex! No! She'd made love for the first time. She was making a baby with the man she loved. Turner and she would have a child. They'd get married, buy a house with a big yard, and a fence. They' do it all. Oh God! It still hurt so much! Why was she still so hot? Wasn't she supposed to get tired now? That's what all the books said.

Turner rolled off. He kept his right arm under her head, but he started to drift off to sleep. Wow he thought. He got her! She got the great man's spunk! What a lucky girl! And he knew she'd gotten off. He'd gotten her cherry, got himself off, and he got her off too. He drifted off to sleep. He had other plans for when he woke up, plans that involved his new receptacle. He'd get to that in the morning.

If a fly had been on the wall that night it would have seen some things had and hadn't happened. Cheryl had lost her virginity that was for sure, but she'd missed the bigger picture, the greater glory. Turner had dipped his stick in her vagina, but he'd come up short, way short. The big man with the big plans, and the big mean streak, was a little man in one big way. Someone once told an old story about two men pissing over the side of a bridge. One commented on coldness of the water. The other commented on its depth. If Turner had been there that night pissing over the side that bridge he'd have said neither.

To be sure, Cheryl had experienced her first sexual encounter. She'd lost her vaginal cherry, but real sexual fulfillment was something that hadn't occurred. Real gratification would never come with Turner. The true joy a man and a woman feel, that moment of genuine rapture associated with mutual love, respect and the joint ownership of honest intimacy would come from another man, a man who was at that very moment walking the floors of his own home, cursing himself for his stupidity, and wondering and worrying.

In another part of town Martin was up, wide awake. He was mad at himself for letting her go through with her misguided rendezvous. He felt like a Judas. He'd delivered her into the hands of the meanest most low down son of a bitch he knew. He'd done it, or allowed it because of his own stupidity. She was gone. Gone from him. Gone for good. She'd follow that bastard to hell. His star, such as it was, if it ever was, was destined to fade into inconsequentiality. He was Turner's friend, Turner's boy. That's how she'd see him, her lover's lackey. He'd allowed it! He'd abetted it. He knew that bastard, his best friend, would ruin another innocent, and in the end she'd blame him as much as she'd blame Turner. Oh what a fucked up mess! What a fucking fucked up mess!

Cheryl lay there in bed. Her pussy hurt. It really hurt. It had been her first time, something new, something completely new. Her pussy ached, but she was still so hot, really hot! She hadn't wanted him to stop. She needed more! While he drifted off to sleep she did the only thing she knew how to do. She started manipulating her pussy with her fingers. She hadn't done anything like that since she was in high school. It took he forever, but eventually she felt a rise, and then a little extra pop. She didn't fully get it. She would later, but she'd had to bring herself to climax, such as it was. She didn't know what she'd missed. She'd find out later with another man, but Turner had let her down. He just didn't have the right stuff. Cheryl drifted off to sleep. But she believed she was in love, Oh was she ever in love.

The next morning, 8:00 sharp Turner woke up. He gently started kissing Cheryl's ear till she was aroused. "Good morning sleepy head."

Cheryl yawned and stretched. "Good morning to you my hero."

He pulled her over and started kissing her.

She was quick to respond.

He started rubbing the sides of her chest, then her breasts, and last her abdomen. He pressed his hand down on her vagina. "How's everything downtown this morning."

Cheryl got self-conscious. "I'm sore." But she quickly added. "But happy. Incredibly happy."

"I'm so glad." He kept rubbing her vagina, and started slipping his fingers in and out and up and down her slit.

Cheryl started to moisten almost immediately. "What time is it? I have to get to work."

"It's early yet. Only 8:00, we've got time." He started snuggling her neck and her ear.

Cheryl had given up her virginity the night before, but she was still very much a novice. Her puritanical background, the soreness she felt between her legs, and her natural introversion were all sending her the same message. Get up, get dressed, go to work. "Turner I have to get ready for work."

He rolled back over on his back. "OK. Can I pick you up this afternoon after you get off?" It was all the same to him. It had only been a few hours since he shot his wad, and he liked a day or two off before swinging the old hammer again.

"I'd love that Turner."

He didn't waste any more time. "All right. I'll see you then." He got up, got dressed, and before one could say swift kick in the ass, he was out of the suite.

Holy cow she thought. He didn't waste any time! Cheryl got up. Wow was she sore. She checked the clock. If she got up and dressed right away she'd have just enough time to get home, get cleaned up, and get to work. She went into the front room where it had all begun to get her clothes and get dressed. She found her purse, wallet, and cell phone on the floor, but her clothes were missing. She looked all around. They weren't anywhere nearby. Oh shit she thought. He'd thrown her clothes in the hallway the night before. She bet someone probably took them away during the night. She had nothing to wear. Absolutely nothing to wear.

She grabbed her cell and hit the button for Turner. It rang the requisite four times and pronounced the unavailability of the cell phone operator. Shit. He had his cell phone off. What to do? There was only one other person she could call. She hit the button for Martin's cell phone. It rang twice before he picked up. "Hello."

"Hello Martin? This is Cheryl."

"Oh Hi Cheryl." He hadn't slept a wink all night. God he was upset. He wanted to throw his phone into the wall. He wanted to yell, but he didn't. He was polite. Good old polite Martin. Fucking polite Martin. "How was last night?"

"Oh Martin it was wonderful. Turner loves me so much. You were so wrong. I'm so happy." Just what Martin didn't want to hear! "But I have a problem. We left all my clothes in the hallway last night. I'm up in this high rise suite with no clothes."

"Where's Turner?"

"He left before I found out about the clothes. Martin I don't know what to do?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the Holiday Inn downtown. Could you help me?"

Martin answered. "Stay cool Cheryl. I know just where you are. What's your room number?" She told him. "You're in luck. They have a small boutique in their lobby, and I know its open on Sundays. I'll stop in, pick something simple for you, and go right up. It's 8:15 right now. I can be there in about an hour. That OK?"

"Oh Thank you Martin. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He hung up his cell, got dressed, and went to town. On his way in he kept telling himself Turner must have gotten her, but he might not have had his way completely. The bastard probably grabbed her clothes on the way out just to be a prick.

He got there a little after 9:00, stopped in the boutique and picked up a little white romper set. No bra, no panties, just a little white set, just enough to get her to her car and back on the road. When he got upstairs where she was waiting he rang the bell and she opened the door. She was wrapped in a blanket. He handed her the bag with the romper. "It's the best I could do on such short notice."

Cheryl took the bag. "Thank you so much Martin. I'll only be a minute." She ran back to the bedroom still wrapped in the blanket. A few seconds later she came out wearing the little romper.

God he thought, she's adorable. She looked so delightful in that little one piece. "You've lost weight."

"Yes. Thank you. Turner said something too."

For some reason her comment really pissed him off. He knew the bastard had gotten her. "Tell me. Did he fuck you?"

Cheryl didn't like the way he said that. She bristled. "We made love Martin. Real true love. He held me in his arms, he kissed me, and yes we made love, glorious, passionate, wholesome love!"

He wanted to yell, holler, smash his fist in the wall, or something. "Well good for you!" He turned to leave. She followed him out of the suite.

They took the elevator to the cellar parking lot. He helped her in her car and waited while she started her engine. "Don't bother to help me anymore. I'm all right now. Thanks again anyway." She put her car in gear and drove down the ramp without bothering to look back.

He got in his car and pulled away. He was doing it again. He choked up a little like he wanted to cry. Oh fuck he said to himself. Men don't cry! Not over shit like this! Some women are just stupid, too stupid to see the fucking shit staring them right in the face. His problem was what shit was he thinking of? The fact that Turner was a fucking cobra intent on tearing her sweet little ass apart, or maybe the fact that she was too blind and too stupid to see who really cared. Why was he doing this he wondered? Why was he losing sleep over her? That was his fucking problem, he knew why.

That was the last Cheryl saw or heard from Martin for several weeks. Her next weeks were totally devoted to Turner. Martin ceased to exist. He was off the radar.

Turner took her everywhere, the movies, dinner, horseback riding, golf, the theater, bowling, even professional wrestling. Each date began and ended always the same way. He picked her up. They went out, had a good time, and he took her to his house where they had sex. Later the next morning he'd take her home so she could get ready for her part time job at the bookstore.

All the time Turner slowly worked changes in the girl, a little more make up, darker eye shadow, more mascara, brighter lipstick, shorter skirts, higher heels, and skimpier bras. All with one purpose in mind, turn the sweet girl he met into a hardened whore.

Turner tried to get her to vary the sex. He managed to get her to let him go down on her. They tried doggie style, something she liked a lot. But he couldn't get her to suck him off. He knew he had to come up with something new if he was going to win the bet. It was already August.

He was running out of time. He realized, if he was going to get this done he'd have to pull a different kind of trick. He'd have to cheat, find a way to force her to come around. He thought certain drugs might work. There was a low potency sex drug he heard of. He thought the name was Sedure. It was supposed to be something like what they said Spanish Fly was, if Spanish Fly ever even existed. He considered trying Roofies, but knew that wouldn't work. With Roofies there was loss of memory. She'd know she'd been given something. The whole love and kisses routine was getting boring anyway. He wanted to fuck her over in the worst way. She was a pig, but she refused to come through completely. He needed something new, something nasty, and something really for shit. He needed pictures.

He thought about enlisting Martin again, but since his first shot with Cheryl, Martin had been impossible to find. He was always out of the city or deep in some really big job. Turner of course knew why. He'd stayed behind outside the Holiday Inn that first time. He'd watched as Martin had showed up and rescued the naked Cheryl from her high rise prison. She'd told Martin about her lost cherry, he was sure of it. Now he was avoiding the both of them. That ass hole Martin really cared. What a stupid, romantic, moronic chump!

Pictures! That's what he needed. The little schoolteacher would be totally traumatized. She'd do anything to keep pictures off the Internet. That's the way he'd have to go. It was like cheating, but he had to. He was running out of time. It wasn't the $2,000.00 either. It was the principle of the thing. He had to win the damn bet.

The more he thought about it the better it sounded. They always slept at his house. He'd set it up, turn a camera on, and then show her what he had. From then on she'd be his slave. Oh Turner he thought, too cool for words. One clever guy!