You Choose

I was prepared to give Rod what he wanted, but not without some misgivings. I'd seen just how large a penis he had yesterday, and that pounded my mind like a maniac with a baseball bat, but Rod didn't want me.

How is that possible? Unbelieving thoughts banged through my head. I had bigger boobs than Alyssa, loved oral sex, and was really good at it . . . What the hell is wrong with him? Shit, what's wrong with me? This is as close to screwing another man since Allen and I first met . . . if Rod doesn't want me, don't force it you sex-starved shithead. I'm guilty enough as is.

Rod had stripped, the last bit of clothing a pair of red underwear. What man wears crimson underwear? Even as I chided myself, my appetite for bodily pleasures leaped to the forefront. I was shaking inside, needed to see the workings of that huge tool again, and wondered what it would feel like going in. I swear my pussy jumped just thinking about that massive tool kneading my inner workings.

Alyssa massaged Rod through that blood-red cloth, a small, wet circle formed in front, and I wanted to yell at her to hurry, bring the damned thing out, I need to see. Shit, but she was slow pulling down that waistband. Just the pink gorged head stuck out. Alyssa's rough tongue dabbed at it, swiped across the head several times, and my knees were immediately weak remembering what that flexible instrument had done to me on so many occasions. Then she pulled Rod's shorts down until it was under his smallish sack of essentials.

Rod's manhood stood full, bending from gravity, bigger than my wrist. Is the elastic of his underwear the only thing keeping everything from crashing down? Alyssa eyed it, squeezing and tugging on that shaft until another small drop of clear fluid oozed to the surface. I was envious when her lips touched that massive pink head, and she sucked the love liquid onto her tongue.

"Want some?" she said, pulling Rod's cock-head in my direction.

The conniving bitch knew the effect pre-ejaculate had on me, and my knees hit the carpet a second later next to her. I grabbed him away from her, pulled that heart-shaped head into my mouth, filling my oral cavity. Side by side we attended to Rod's needs until he squirted our faces with white hot cum.

It took him no time at all to dump his load, and he sank to the couch, gasping.

Alyssa was smiling when she turned to me, and said, "Ohh, you have some right there."

Her lips opened and kissed the whitish glob from my chin, her tongue ran a wet line down my neck, scooping up what ended there also.

"Alyssa has some on her cheek," Rod pointed out. "You might want to get that," and being the obedient slave my tongue slurped it off.

I didn't want to, but couldn't help but savor the taste of maleness that now was driving me crazy with need.

Leveling out from a sensuous high, sex still on my brain, I had to get out of there before I did something even more perverted.

"I need to use the bathroom," I said, "and need to go . . . Allen will be home soon."

"Go on," Alyssa said, "You know where the loo is. We'll be right here finishing up. If you want, tell your husband that he can join us later."

I shot her an angry look, but she was already between Rod's legs doing something with his friends.

Upstairs, I looked for a hiding place where they might have the incriminating photos. I figured that she would be busy for the next fifteen or twenty minutes getting Rod ready for the next event.

There were two small bedrooms and a half-bath upstairs, and I searched each, finding nothing, but didn't think the McDonalds would hide explicit photos in the children's rooms, or the bathroom, but I had to eliminate them. Slipping downstairs, saw Alyssa still at it, and I watched a few seconds, more brazen than days ago, and hitching up my robe headed out the front door. I would have to search downstairs another day.

I didn't sleep well, looked worse than abysmal the following morning. Putting makeup over baggy under-eyes took twice as long, and didn't cover; Allen who never noticed such things had commented about how tired I looked.

Those damn pictures . . . trying to think of where I would hide them if I were that devious was all I thought about. I'd even put off Allen last night, and he was so gracious, which made me feel even worse. So much that I capitulated. Even sex did nothing for an insomniac, guilt-persecuted mind. Just before the alarm went off, I hit on a flimsy scheme. As close as I had been to Alyssa, I needed to be closer, even though now my stomach flip-flopped just thinking about it. I had to be more than just good, I had to be one hell of an actress. The more I was over there, the greater opportunities to search.

The clambering of the home cell demanded attention. At first, I couldn't find it, hoping beyond hope . . . shit, it was her. Not again.

"I need you," Alyssa said, her voice soft and wanting. A little tremor went through me at the obvious implications of sex in her tone, but I held myself in check. Would Rod be there again?

"Give me a few minutes."

"Hurry, every chance you get." She giggled.

This woman needed sex more than anyone I'd ever encountered, and people thought I was over-sexed. Didn't she ever wear out? I was beginning to think she was a nymphomaniac as well as blackmailer. A female prison would be an excellent place for her. Get all she wanted and more, and out of my hair . . . hair-less pussy. I laughed, the first time in days and liked it.

In the time it took to walk across the street, I'd played every scenario that could possibility happen over in my brain, as well as working out what I would do in each case. There wasn't many, but one thing was sure, I had to play along with everything the McDonalds suggested. So far it's been easy.

Alyssa called for me to come in before I could knock. The screen door squeaked when opened, and I pictured Allen oiling it when he got home. Whoa now. Come to the present, girl. Then I was walking through the kitchen into the living room.

"In here," Alyssa called, and I followed the sound of that sultry voice, searching the shadows for a glimpse of Rod hiding there. The door to the den was open and she sat on the loveseat, a see-through negligee wrapped about her trim body. Excitement was written in the set of the shapely shoulders, the tilt of the head, and her constant fidgeting.

My breath caught when she shifted to a better position, her breasts jiggling with sexual readiness and in definite need for my mouth. Why this particular woman's tits caused such a reaction in me, I do not know. As I've said before, I like men and love my husband, but was beginning to think like a closet lesbian.

Alyssa beckoned, and I followed like a hand-puppet, ending in front of her. She didn't look all that good either. Her eyes were red-rimmed and I could see veins running around those ivory edges. And yes, there were bags there too. My eyes swept over the peaks and valleys, down that flatland stomach to between her legs. She saw my look, opening them at once, and flipping the ethereal fabric out of the way pulled me between those smooth shaved limbs.

I knew what she wanted, lifted one leg, kissed her toes, the bottoms of her foot, ran my lips across her calf, lingered a while, then up the thigh, rubbing it with my face and wrapping my hair around it. Glancing up to see her countenance plastered with pleasure or pain, I could not tell, but hoped for pain which inspired me further.

After she'd been satisfied with several orgasms, her eyes closed and her breathing deepened. She curled up almost instantly asleep. I figured she would be out at least an hour, and I covered her with the ever-present afghan.

Searching their bedroom, and keeping an ear open for any noise of her waking, I looked under folded clothes, in a jewelry box. I left everything as I'd seen it, even felt under the bottom of all the drawers.

I'd never been in the basement, and glanced back at the sleeping Alyssa when the door made a sour note of defiance. She hadn't moved so I found the light switch and took the steps one at a time, feeling my way.

Everything was normal, except that half the downstairs was closed off making another room, and the door had a heavy steel padlock cinching it tight. I didn't see a key hanging anywhere. I'll bet this is where they keep the photos, otherwise, why the lock? Had to be something in there the McDonalds didn't want anyone seeing.

Upstairs, I searched the main bathroom, even in the back of the toilet, as all the TV shows were showing where people hid things they didn't want found, but I didn't find anything. Frustrating to the point that I wondered if there really were any pictures. Of course, Rod could have them at work, and in that case, I was doomed. Someone's moving. Was Rod home? Footfalls too light. Alyssa's awake, coming to the bathroom. Another creak from a floor joist, she's closer.

I could not get caught going through her things.

Shut the door, no not completely, the latch will make a noise. I glanced around, no place to hide. The door opened.

"Yeek! Shit . . . you startled me," Alyssa said, one hand resting on her throat. "I thought you'd gone home."

"In a minute," I said, flushing the toilet.

She walked in, left the door open and primped at the mirror as if I weren't in the room.

"See you tomorrow."

I didn't acknowledge, but saw her smile in the mirror, her eyes caught mine for a flash of a second, and then I was out the door. In that moment, I should have noticed the regrettable hopelessness in that fairy like face. I was increasingly pissed at having allowed her to get me into this mess.

In the living room I came head to head with Rod McDonald.

"Whaa . . ."

His hand went over my mouth, and he whispered, "In here." Once in the laundry room off the kitchen, he shut the connecting door, and plopped his ass on the dryer.

"I want you to do something for me," he said.

I looked at the closed door. "What?"

"I like you," Rod said, "and I'm in need."

"What?"

"Look, Alyssa has been a bitch the past few days, and I need you to do me."

"You're crazy."

His eyes took in the area in front of his crotch.

"What do you say?"

"I say no, that's what."

His hands caught me behind the head and pulled me close until his eyes were looking into mine at very close range. "Remember the photos . . ."

"Alyssa's next door, in the bathroom."

"She'll not know, if you're quiet now hurry. Unzip my pants."

He slid off the dryer, and I undid his zipper thinking of those awful pictures, my hands at the belt buckle.

"No, just the zipper, now pull it out."

I did as he commanded, my heart pounding, excitement ramming back and forth in my brain. My hands shook. This was a first time alone with the monster. I reached inside the entrance to his underwear, but it wasn't cooperating. My heart skipped a beat when my fingers wrapped around the thickness of him. Curled snake like, and it took a while to get the head out.

"Your hands feel so good," he whispered into my ear, the pink knob of him swelling within my grasp.

My legs were water pouring onto the ground through the gutter of my thoughts, and at that moment nothing mattered but feeling that maleness grow hard in the warm cavern of my mouth. I imagined making it grow until it was difficult to breathe, I murmured something unintelligent, but then he was sliding inside and my groan of pleasure vibrated all the way up his hardening cock to his own pleasure center.

His low moaning and the undulation's of his hips sent a thrill through my entire body and I dropped to my knees in front of him. Running my tongue over the slick surface of his saliva covered rod, delight tickled the laugh center of my brain. I was delirious with exhilaration and dizzy with lust. More than anything at this moment, I wanted to suck every ounce of spunk from this huge beautiful organ, my fingers played with Rod's two storage tanks. I was such a two-timing slut.

To say that I am enraptured with a mans penis, is to say too little. Sometimes I believe that I should have been a man, but then because of my love of the male sex organ, I'd have to be a homosexual. I also found that being with a good woman as exhilarating and as satisfying in many ways. So what the hell was I?

Right now, personal gratification was at its highest point. I had a man's penis captured between my lips, and sucking with great abandonment. It pleased me that Rod was gasping and groaning, and I wanted nothing more than for him to empty that full sack.

My need to bring bliss to this lovely cock over-shadowed everything. There wasn't even a man connected to it any longer. Just a large, hard sex organ slipping in and out of fully stretched lips, my head bobbing with determination, one fist wrapped tightly around the girth, holding it with adoring attention. I was a queen in front of the king of dicks. There was only this lovely instrument that in any second was going to give me a huge tasty delight.

Immeasurable joy rammed through me. I alone was milking the beast. His balls lifted upward, that great groan of the sex-enraged male of the species, and that sudden expected rapture of the first outpouring. The shot hit the back of my throat like a thick, water soaked rag. I swallowed before the second burst, and kept gulping. Rod was more than generous, jerking with spastic discharges that nearly doubled him over. I was overjoyed because I alone made him cum in less time than Alyssa had ever done in my presence, and in that knowledge was power. He grabbed my head, covering my ears, and I thought that he might ram his prick deep into my throat. Both hands gripped that hard member to keep that from happening. The final gob seeped onto my tongue where I could taste the thick saltiness. I let the tiny warm mass sit there, spicy, contemplating why I never liked the taste of man-stuff. Rod's really wasn't that bad. Not that I would go out of my way to feed on the stuff.

I licked him clean, let the heavy shrinking cock drop.

"Have a good day," I said, and leaving him to zip up, headed out.

"Already have," he muttered, and I left the house by the back door.

On the short walk home, I was increasingly satisfied with myself. I had met two large obstacles head-on, and conquered both; didn't find the incriminating photos, however there is that locked room in the basement. The McDonald's didn't want anyone inside that room, especially their children. What's so secret that they must keep locked and hidden away? One thing might be evidence of two naked women enjoying themselves. Those had to be destroyed, and there must be copies, eliminate them as well.

The digital era, I hated it; with the single press of a button the world knew everything. Now that might be all right for some things, but not information that could damage an innocent person's life.

Innocent? Shit, I was so far from that . . . might as well be in hell right now.

I didn't care for myself, but Allen would be devastated by my stupidity and infidelity. I'd become Alyssa and Rod's little whore. Giving sexual favors originally to help her . . . and myself to forbidden sexual delights. Now, I was giving sexual favors, just to keep myself from punishment.

My hand brushed at sudden tears.

Just a short time ago, freedom existed to do most anything, but I'd squandered that privilege. Given it so freely and unthinkingly. Me . . . Daline Blanchard who in ten years was always fateful, had become collateral damage for the McDonald's cruel amusement.

At my front door, I glanced over my shoulder before going inside, my mind reeling with possibilities. We had a computer, so I went there. Icon's graced the screen in a few seconds; at least I knew what one was used for, and using the mouse clicked on the Internet. I'd been here many times before, so I typed in computers in the box provided at the top.

A vast amount of information made itself known. I typed something more specific. Luckily, the accompanying pictures were more helpful than the long technical paragraphs. The one that frightened most was a small gadget like the one I saw on Rod McDonald's keychain.

I didn't know Bytes from Megs, hard drives from flash . . . a throaty laugh erupted from somewhere deep inside. I did know when a man flashed me and when he was driving hard into his favorite device, me. Hopelessness raced alongside the abrupt brooding hilarity, and the undeniably of my dilemma was fast pulling ahead.

A week passed, and still no photographs. I did manage to find out about that damned thing Rod had on his key chain, and that I was going to have to steal, the padlock keys were also on the same ring. I began to make plans.

I couldn't steal the key or the drive, because he would know, but I might be able to switch that little piece of plastic with one of my own. All I had to do was purchase one of the same brand and size and wait for my chance. The key was something else again. Impression putty was one example, so said the Internet. But there was another, easier way.

Just after noon, the tramp called, and look who's calling names? This time, I didn't even bother to chastise myself.

"Where are you?"

"In the kitchen," I said.

"You should be here."

"Just waiting for your call." I smirked at the phone, dumb bitch.

"Get your ass over here."

"Right there, my Sweet(fucking)Pea."

I pocketed the mini-camera I'd purchased just for this moment.

Alyssa demanded much, not only enjoying what I did, but also what she did to me. Giving and receiving was a toss up for her, as she savored every moment, from start to finish. Because of her attitude toward sex, she was a struggle to understand. At times insisting that I do things exactly her way, then asking what I'd like her to do.

Rod was easy. He was all take, definitely a user, at least from my prospective. He demanded everything. Perhaps just because he had control, particularly liking mouth to genital stimulation, me of course doing all the arousing. He called it his oral exam. Maybe it was just my particular technique he enjoyed. Allen certainly did. I squashed that image, he had no place in my mind right now, his frowning image was worse than a Lion gnawing at a fresh Antelope haunch.

When I arrived, the McDonald's were both in the living room.

"About time," she said. "What took you so long?"

I choose not to answer. "Are the children home?"

Alyssa made a face. "Of course not."

Rod spoke up then. "We have something to show you," and he went to the basement door. "You'll like this," he said over his shoulder.

I followed, Alyssa bringing up that fabulous rear end. I stumbled on the stairs, bumped into Rod, and another idea of how to get rid of him came to mind.

"Watch where you're stepping," he said. "These stairs are steep."

"Thanks. Now you tell me."

His laugh overshadowed the jingle as he took out his keys. The lock snapped open with a solid healthy sound, like a well-oiled gun being cocked. Watching into what pocket he dropped the keys, my big wish at that moment was that I knew how to 'pick' a pocket. The door swung outward, he reached inside and light swamped the room.

I must have gasped.

"Like what you see? This is where the real fun is."

"Fuck?"

"Exactly," he said, and stepping aside, allowed Alyssa to usher me into the room.

One side had a miniature worktable with small hand tools in convenient slots and holders. The rest of the room held a bevy of sexual toys and places to have sex in sundry positions. There was a set of stocks, handcuffs, pieces of soft rope, a bed, and even a small mattress on the floor. I was so wrong to believe that I was ever, more sexually experienced than Alyssa. And what the hell is that?

A padded table with a dildo attached to a motorized metal arm was positioned in the middle of the room. Next to it, about thigh high, a futuristic looking English saddle sat with a center-piece resembling an over-sized cock.