The Piglet in the Trap

Greg looked at Ned. "Jesus. Well that's everything."

I started to pack my things back in.

"Mm," Ned grunted.

"Well there's no where else she could hide anything," Greg said.

"Mm."

My hands were so out of control I knew I couldn't button my purse. I was beyond humiliated. This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

"I mean, we could strip search her if you want, Ned. Elly, drop the dress."

I blame the terror that came over me in that moment for what I did next. Looking at the sour-faced, silent Ned, and Greg, my father's best friend who was doing him a favor, and knowing that I wasn't some full-of-life sex pot but a scared little thing quaking in her heels with liquor bubbles in her brain, I began to drop the straps over my shoulders. Ned's eyebrows shot up, his arms came alive.

"Jesus, Elly!" Greg said. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding!"

OHMIGOD

I grabbed the purse and ran, covering my face every uneven step to the door and outside where the night air punched me in the gut. But that was better than the restaurant.

Greg found me by the truck and held open my door while I struggled to get inside. He didn't lift me up this time, just watched as I crawled onto the seat and clawed myself first through the door, then upright.

He cranked the heat and turned on an easy rock station. It was already dark out and I prayed to god I wasn't sweating. It was so hot, like living out a fever dream. I rubbed my eyes which I knew couldn't sweat but they felt tired from drinking. I was so hot, though. So, so hot. I could imagine my apartment waiting for me, I could be cool there. I could draw a bath and disrobe in private and forget tonight. My hands squirmed over my shoulders. I think I fell asleep but it was hot there too.

I don't remember waking up but Greg was using my keys to take us through the apartment doors, then into the elevator. He used my keys again to open my door and then we were inside, with all my empty bottles and garbage on the counters, and the sink full of dishes, and clothes everywhere.

My legs were still drinking the negroni but luckily for me Greg's legs were right there where mine should have been. I clung to him, it must have been like a wet blouse. Blouse! OMG was I topless?? Where did my Hot Plum Dress go??

It was still there but it was hanging at my waist. The sleeve of Gary's shirt felt as thick as a tablecloth on my ribs. The bush of white hair on his hard tan forearms felt much, much softer, planted on the underside of my breasts. How did they feel to him, I wondered.

I blushed. And I know I did because it felt hotter than the blush I already had from drinking. God he's going to think I'm a fucking mess.

His other hand shut my door and I think I heard the lock swing shut. He heaved me around like nothing. "W-wait," I mumbled.

I couldn't leave it like this. I didn't care if it got back to my parents or whatever but I couldn't leave things with Greg thinking I was some dumb little girl.

"Elly?"

"We should have a..." What is it fucking called "...a night hat."

He laughed and my whole body shook. "Is that what adults do, Elly?"

The anger gave my legs the ability to stand and I pushed away from him about three inches. One of my bare arms managed to cover my nipples, I think, which was good. I would have looked ridiculous yelling at him with my tits out.

"Hey you, you... you think I'm not? Have a facking night c-cap, Greg."

I put my other hand on his shoulder and pushed him hard enough to kill him, but he didn't actually move.

His smile was so much darker in my kitchen than in the light of the restaurant. "I think it's Mr. Richards, little lady. You want to play mean?"

I was swaying but my smile could be all mean and patronizing like his, too. "Uh, yeah, Greg why n--"

He slapped me. He slapped me so fast I only heard the clap I didn't see his palm. And before I could fall I was in his arms again. My cheek was on fire and my whole apartment was spinning worse than when I came in.

"You-- you--"

He was already shushing me, carrying me to the couch.

"Y-You hit me."

I suddenly wished I wasn't wearing panties. They felt too tight for how soft they were. My legs were flailing open and closed and each time I felt my clit roll over my tiny sack and then back again like it was giving it a series of small kisses. Little love pecks that felt electric.

"No, no, no," he said. "You know what? You can forget Mr. Richards, that was my father's name. You're gonna call me, Sir, do you understand?"

He put my butt on the arm of the couch and my legs spread open instinctively. I tried to close them but Greg was already between my knees. Instead of feeling my knees I felt his hips.

His massive hand swallowed my face and he pulled me up to look at him. "You've been a bad girl, Elly. Do you want me to tell your parents about tonight?"

I tried to shake my head.

"Say, No Sir."

It was hard with my lips pursed from the strength of his fingers but I managed. "no, sir."

He smiled. "Good girl. You didn't pass the test, Elly, but I didn't want to fuck you in the truck. You're gonna make up for embarrassing me, now aren't you, little girl?"

I tried to nod but I was smart enough to say "Yes, sir."

He grabbed my left breast and rolled it in his palm. "Little slut like you doesn't leave much to the imagination. That's good. That's good, I like being direct."

I was pulled back up to my feet by the scruff of my neck. "Lose the dress," he said.

I pushed what remained on my waist down to my hips as far as it would go. He was staring down my naked body, I'm sure he saw the little dark thatch of hair between my thighs, peaking out of the dress before it dropped. I couldn't reach any lower so I had to work it off and away from my legs with my feet.

Then I joined my dress on the floor. I was on my knees before Mr. Richards' stylish monk straps. He flipped open his belt with a jingle and unzipped his fly but the pants stayed up. They weren't being held up by his dick, but it looked big and hard enough to do just that. His cock was the biggest I had ever seen. No boxers, certainly no briefs. I didn't think they made underwear big enough for him.

"You're gonna suck this down just like a drink, you understand, Elly?"

I looked up at him and nodded. He had sprung out when his fly came lose and I knew from his vantage point he could see his length stretching past my head, gently pressed to the side of my jaw and ear, and my big eyes staring up at him. Weak. Stupid. Stupid little girl. But I knew how to suck dick.

Especially drunk.

I replaced the taste of liquor with the earthy taste of his skin. He tasted like he played squash, or like he hadn't changed his bodywash since he was 21. My tongue slid all the way from the base of his shaft to the big purple knob poking out of his foreskin, which I dutifully slipped inside and swirled. I didn't have any strength to look hot. I hoped he was getting hard looking down on me, my dark hair everywhere, some of it that he was seeing for the first time, my glazed obedient eyes, every square inch of my nudity right there in his grasp. And his hand was still firmly planted on the back of my head as I slurped him slowly, getting my rhythm. I didn't know if I could take him in my throat. But Mr. Richards made that choice for me.

After he was wet all over from my work he directed my mouth over his cock, he never moved, he always just moved my head where he wanted it. He crammed my mouth full and kept pushing, leaving drunk little me trying desperately to relax my throat and make more spit to lube him up. But I couldn't. I gagged and when I coughed he pulled my head off so I could gasp. Then he went back in, further, harder. This went on a few times. My makeup was running, I knew I didn't look like an angel any more. I looked like a whore ruined in the rain.

He kept going harder but not any further because my body wouldn't let him. Honestly I don't know how I kept from throwing up on him right there (I guess practice... I didn't know how much gag reflex I had left in me after one short year of university, booze or no booze). I could hear him grunting with frustration each time he hit my wall but I wasn't in a place to apologize for it. Not that he would have accepted it. Blowing Mr. Richards was already the apology for me fucking up.

The last time he tried to go deep was the worst! I was gagging, full-body spasming on his cock, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. I was slapping his thighs as hard as I could but he wouldn't budge and neither would the back of my throat. Then I felt an awful pressure building up from my chest and my throat felt like a latex balloon with rigid wet walls. I gagged hard and something shifted with a physical pop. And then his cock shot down, deep into my neck. He groaned. My lips were stretched wider than they ever had been. I had never been this full in my life I could barely pull air into my nose and around the girth of Mr. Richards.

Never have I felt so greatful as when he pulled out. A mess of fluid followed him and rolled off my chin and over my tits and my thighs. Never have I been so grateful for air.

"Haven't been seeing boys, huh?" He said.

Before I could answer his cock went back in, all the way, with only a little bump of resistance before it was balls deep in my throat again. He jerked off with my head in his hand for a while until I could feel his mass throb like a clenching wrist and then he pulled out. More spit splattered on me, getting caught up in my pubic hair. I looked up at him panting. He had an awful smile on his face.

"Did that taste better than dinner, Elly?"

"Yes... sir..."

"I knew you wouldn't be a respectable woman. Your father tells me everything. And you know what? I knew you would be used to this. Look at you," he smeared my spit back over my lips. "Nothing but a slut. Do you like being a slut?"

I hated admitting it. "Yes sir," I said.

Mr. Richards laughed.

"Bad girl. Time for you to go to bed."

He yanked me up and shoved me towards the hall. It's a small apartment and I guess his eyes followed the trail of tights and panties to where the bedroom was. My body slid against my wall on the way there and it felt as cold as ice.

A shot rang out all down the hallway and off every wall in my place. It was his hands spanking the big round target of my ass. I shrieked.

"Bedroom. Now."

I fell into the darkness and caught my bedspread. A second later the light turned on. Greg laughed. "Jesus christ."

He picked the vibrator off my pillow and pointed it at me.

"You don't even have time to put it away, huh?"

He flicked a switch and a familiar whining buzz rattled out. My body felt comforted instantly, like I was Pavlov's dog. I shook my head. "It... I was doing... the laundry... it just fell... out?"

He pulled it over my lips and got it wet from the mess I was still covered in. I wish I'd washed it after this morning's session. I tried to put it into my mouth because I figured he would want to throat fuck me with that now but he gave me a playful bop on the cheek with it and disappeared behind me.

He pressed the point of the dildo against my ass and my back straightened up like an arrow. He laughed and rotated the point around my asshole. I could feel my own slick on it.

I was bent over the bed with my feet on the floor, and now I was trapped in the waves of vibration booming through me from my ass. Mr. Richard's hand groped my tits as they hung. Who knows how long he was working me like that, I was lost to the throttle of my toy and the authority of his fingers. Am I any different from a toy? If I wasn't drunk I might have cum right then.

You lose track of time when you're getting played like a violin. But at some point his huge paw went grasping around the shaking round of my thigh and he gently mauled my cock. He plucked at slowly with long gentle pulls.Yielding little cock, springy discrete balls, he wanted a good feel of everything.

"So this is what a bitch like you gets the boys going with, huh?"

I grunted like an animal. I was growing in his hand, small as I was compared to the monster of his I could feel prodding parts of my back and side as he moved around me. He laughed when he felt me get hard. "That's it? I thought my first trans girl would be packing more than this. I--"

His thumb and pointer found my dripping hole. Long clear strands of precum, not at all unlike the spit I had just lubed his cock with, had been collecting down my legs since he spanked me in the hallway.

"Christ you're wetter than a cunt."

My knees gave out. He forced me back up and shoved my taste into my mouth.

"Young men are jackhammers," he said, laughing. "I guess young cunts like you make the lube for the machine."

He pulled my clit roughly, like he was grabbing something he owned and could do what he wanted with, and started rubbing it over his huge member. The sounds I made were pathetic as I felt my head, flowing with desperation, touch his. They were nothing alike, in any dimension. But their biggest difference, I knew, was that mine was there to make his nice and comfortable when he shoved it into my ass.

I heard him grunt in approval and then Mr Richards pulled my toy out and slipped his cock, which was at least twice as old as me, into my small, wide open asshole.

I guess he was still excited from the face fucking because he didn't bother building up his stroke. Mr. Richards was at top speed almost immediately. I couldn't believe someone his age could move like that. He was pounding me from behind without a moment to waste! And I couldn't believe how hard he could fuck without stopping or even missing a beat. It was like being held down by an eager piston. Big as it was his dick wasn't even the hardest part of him though. When he grabbed my throat and yanked my slender back into his chest I felt how sturdy his body was. Greg had fat on him but it was just grease for the muscle. It almost hurt to squeeze up into him like that. His tongue flicked my earlobe and slid into the cannals of my tiny little ear. I moaned but his grip was so tight around my neck I think he felt it more than he heard it.

"You moan like your mother, you know that?"

Wha--? What?

He laughed cruelly. He could see my dumbfounded expression in another cheap mirror I had propped against my closet.

"You're a lot tighter than she is. Even sloppy drunk like this. And your tits are bigger. Mmm, yeah, even this young. You've got her shape but she doesn't have your size, baby."

I tried to pull his hand off my throat but I never had a chance. So I just held on, like the leverage would somehow soften the three-hundred pound mass driving his cock against my bottom.

"Of course it's a lot easier to relax without your goddamn father in the corner slapping his meat."

I came. My orgasm was so explosive it cut through the alcohol and stars burst in front of my eyes. I went limp against him and whatever my body did to his cock must have been good because he hissed in pleasure. He moved my body in some new way that he liked and I felt my thighs rub together: soaking wet. Sloppy. Sticky.

His hand left my throat alone and yanked my face up by the back of my hair. One of my buns had come loose and he had the other.

"You like that? Fuck that's disgusting. You must be a little whore, just like Miranda. If a boy ever asks you, slut, you can tell them you get it from your mother."

The sound of his cock fucking me had gotten squishier. He was fucking a much softer hole than before.

"Wha-- what do you... AH... mean..."

He laughed. "You're gonna need a nice older guy to guide you, baby."

He slapped my ass and I yelped again. He hit so hard it already stung and glowed red. I knew it was shaped like his hand. My body tried to come again but it didn't get past my tummy.

I hated how much I needed his cock inside me in that moment. I hated how much he was turning me on with every awful word. I hated that I didn't have any strength left to grind against him, pull his orgasm from him and into me. All I could do is lay there while he finished using me.

"Maybe next time I buy you dinner you bring one of your little boyfriends."

He fell over top of me and I was crushed with no where to squirm. A wet throbbing lump was screaming for another release crammed under my pubic bone. His hips never slowed. He turned my head and whispered salaciously with hot breath. "He can sit right over there and watch his best girl get her lights fucked out."

I groaned so loudly. "Yessir..."

"You want that?"

"I.. wannit.... SIR..."

I could feel the heat building again. SLAM SLAM SLAM, like a hammer hitting an anvil.

"You know who could sit there?"

He was throbbing so hard, so fast that my vibrator seemed lazy. There was just Greg's veins building his cock even thicker, getting ready.

"You know who would hate to see you like this?"

Getting ready to breed some young ditzy thing that needed an older man to put a baby in her belly.

"You know who we'll force to watch you get fucked?"

I came again and so did he. I never heard what he said, the whole world went black and I screamed so loud he shoved my face into the sheets. I felt a new wetness flood my insides and I as I faded off I knew it would spill out of my hole just like the spit that followed Greg's cock from my mouth.

When I woke up I was still naked but under my sheets. There was a cold cloth on my forehead and a bucket by the bed. It must have been some time like 3 or 4 AM because everything was black. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

My hangover the next day was brutal and every hole I had was too sore for my usual cure. I did get myself off later on, during a long hot bath. By then Greg's text had arrived.

Learned to use text in a night, didja grandpa?

He said that he would be happy to treat me to dinner any time I liked, not that he had to pay for my company. Next time I would have to apologize to Ned, and Tony of course. Apparently the Boar in Steel had a back room I would love. I didn't know about that. He sent along a video too, and I guess my father's best friend Greg was nice enough to clean off his buddy's daughter after fucking her into a pile of filth. After I had come in bed he dragged me into the shower. I was surprisingly talkative in the video for not remembering a second of it the morning after. I rubbed my sore throat as I saw him get another blowjob. He visited a few other spots again, too.

Jesus, Mr. Richards... do you have a viagra prescription or something? I don't know how you got that thing up the first time.

There was a lot to think about before I accepted any more invitations but I did text him back: "Thanks for dinner :heart:"

I only got one other message that day, and I ignored it and everything else until my head came back into one piece. It was a message from Mom.

"Hey.... How was dinner?"