The Thirteenth Step

It was a battle. But I concentrated on the fact that I was only four weeks away from being three years sober. I thought about all the work I had done to get to this point. I went upstairs.

In the super king-sized bed in our master bedroom, Dawn was soundly asleep, so I climbed into bed quietly, careful not to wake her. I lay awake for over an hour, my anger refusing to die down. I was troubled by deeply disturbing thoughts, and I could not fall asleep.

How dearly I had wanted to rush to that poor girl's aid. But alas, I could not! Not without her knowing I had broken her confidence. I, possibly the only person in this world she had left who she thought she could trust. I had not been spying on her as such, I had just happened to see what was happening and had been curious. But cruelly, I was unable to help her, even though I yearned to. I had to stay there and secretly watch the horrifying proceedings. It turned my stomach to remember how the two rogues misused that poor girl. It made me feel sick, it made me shake with rage. But sadly, there was nothing I could have done, all I could do was watch.

Let me tell you, I struggled to sleep that night after the awful things I had witnessed. I tossed and turned for ages, the grisly scene replaying over and over in my mind. I kept remembering the foul, abasing things they had made her do, how sweet and innocent she had looked even when they had so cruelly stripped her, and the demeaning tasks she had been forced to perform for their amusement. Her pleas for mercy. Her sweet face. All of it kept replaying in my mind. Even once I thought I had thought them through enough, and I had gained relief from this torment, the thoughts would still recur to me again, and I lay tossing and turning on my bed. I considered having a sly wank, but decided not to risk waking Dawn up.

Unable to sleep, I got up from the bed and went and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, thinking on the foul things I had been forced to witness.

The monsters! How they had mocked her while they were forcing her to undergo such humiliations. I cannot understand the mentality of men like that. Not men at all, vile beasts! Scum! To so cruelly treat a sweet, delicate flower like Abigail, and to take such obvious sadistic pleasure in it as well. To actually take sexual gratification from demeaning a pretty girl, it is beyond imagining. Worse than animals. Their cruel laughter, their misogynistic bantering as they treated her so disgracefully.

I thought hard about these things as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Eventually, I got back into bed. "What's the matter?" said Dawn sleepily.

"I can't sleep, I have things on my mind."

"Oh babe, it'll be OK," she mumbled reassuringly. "Have you tried having a camomile tea?"

"I don't think that would help."

"What would help?"

"Um, could we do it?" I asked tentatively, then added: "I'm really horny."

She reached over and touched my erection. "Oh, my goodness you are, aren't you? I've never felt it so hard. What've you been thinking about to make you so horny?"

"Nothing," I said defensively.

"Is it anything to do with a certain big-boobed young lady who is sleeping in our summerhouse?"

"Certainly not!" I snapped.

She sighed. "OK, let's do it, but try to be quick."

I really was quick. She rolled over and I climbed on top of her. Her pussy felt a bit dry, but I managed to squeeze my penis into it, and after a few thrusts I grunted and came, a juddering spasm and an immense wave of relief as I felt the semen leaving my body. It felt like a lot of fluid came out of me. The sexual tension drained away and I felt at peace.

I kissed her and mumbled, "Love you," then climbed off of Dawn and led on my side of the bed. I heard her pull some tissues out of the box on her bedside table. I closed my eyes and soon fell asleep. I dreamed I was writing a blog article about Abigail and what I had witnessed that evening. It was titled Beware the Thirteenth Step.