R/T/M (11 page)

     I pushed the straps off of her shoulders and spun her around, undoing the double hooks.

     I spun her back around and she let the bra fall to the floor.

     I could tell she was excited.   Her nipples were erect, sticking out from her smooth firm pale white breasts.

     She stepped out of her shoes and I unzipped the side of her skirt and it fell to the floor among the rest of her clothes.

     I let her stand there and dragged my fingertips up and down her legs and torso.

     I figured I wasn’t going to be seeing this again so I might as well get an eye full.

     Whenever I veered near her black thong she would lean in towards me and gasp.

     Finally I grabbed the sides of her thong and swiped them down around her ankles.

     I could see her outer vaginal lips were glistening with secretion.

     I spun her around and I picked up the duct tape and cut a couple more lengths.

     I duct taped each wrist to the opposite elbow.

     I said, “Get on your knees.”

     She dropped to her knees with a fleshy clopping sound.

     I thwapped the head of my erection around her mouth and made her try to get her mouth on it like she was bobbing for apples.

     I let her get her mouth on it.   She got about half of it in and hummed.

     Then she took her mouth off of it and ran her tongue up and down the shaft, with detours around the head, then back down the shaft and over my balls.   She licked her way back up and got it back in her mouth.   She worked it in and out of her mouth for a little while, then I grabbed her ears and pushed my dick in until it hit the back of her throat.   She made muffled gagging sounds.   I let her gag on it till she stopped gagging and then I took it out quickly and she gasped a little for air.

     We kept that up until I got bored and I put my hands into her armpits and lifted, saying, “Up!”.

     She waited standing while I cut another length of duct tape and patted it firmly over her mouth.

     Bound and gagged, I pushed her over face down on the bed.

     Her arms strained, naturally wanting to break her fall, but since her arms were firmly bound, her
face took the impact on the pillows and her tits took the impact on the mattress.

     I rif
led in her purse and got out her phone.

     I could see her out of the periphery of my vision trying to use her hearing to figure out what I was doing.

     Maybe she recognized the sound of her purse.   The sound of the clasp, or the reverb of the contents knocking about inside as I rifled for her phone.

     I found her phone and I put it on the bedside table.

     I didn’t bother fucking her.

     I spread her creamy pale ass cheeks and let a long drip of spit fall onto her exposed asshole.   Her pink balloon knot clenched when the spit hit it.   I always thought that was funny.   It always happens.

     I swished my mouth around, working up more spit and put my thumb in my mouth, loading it up with spit.   I used my thumb to smear my spit around until her asshole was glisteningly slimy.   Not so much for her comfort as for mine.

     I put the tip of my penis against the center of her anus and pushed in a little to get it started.   She made an annoyed sound, but with her mouth duct-taped shut everything just sounded like “Mmmm.” with minor melodic variations.

     You know what they say?   It’s true.

  
  Eighty-five percent of communication is body language.    By her body language, I could tell that she didn’t much like the head of my cock in her ass.

     I adjusted my hips and hers so I could put some more weight behind my hard-on and watched my cock gradually disappear into her pink asshole.   Her shoulders strained, and her head wrenched back, and she “mmmm”-ed her annoyance, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.   I was going to what I was going to do.

     When I was balls-deep, I leaned back so that I was resting with my knees on the bed, sitting on the upper part of her thighs with my ass, and the inside of my legs on either side of her hips.   I was pretty comfortable, and I didn’t care about her comfort.

     I leaned over to the bedside table and picked up her cell phone.   I flipped it open and pressed the buttons and went through the menu to bring up her text messages.   I clicked “View All”.

     When she heard the cell phone sounds, she started “Mmmm”-ing in protestation when she realized what I was doing.   She never liked me going through her cell phone.   I’m not the jealous type, but I’m also not the foolish type and every now and then I like to check the cell phone of whatever girl I’m seeing to make sure that there’s nothing blatantly obviously fucked up going on.   The way I figure it, if they’re not guilty, if they have nothing to hide, then they have nothing to worry about.   She should just let me satisfy my insecurity and when there was nothing suspicious in her phone it would just leave me looking insecure and jealous.     But girls never just let you look through their cell phone.   They always throw a hissy fit or at least shoot you lots of dirty looks while you’re doing it.   I think I understand why.   It’s the implication of the action.   By thumbing through their cell phone they think you’re implying that they’re up to something with someone else, so they think that you don’t trust them.   Some girls even use the excuse that since you don’t trust them, they might as well go out and do something worth being accused of since they figure they’re already catching the heat, they might as well commit the crime.   It’s human nature.

     I didn’t care if she went through my cell phone.   Before she came over I always erased my call history and text messages.   That should have seemed suspicious enough.

     Trust.

     Trust is a funny thing.

     It’s just when you think you know someone that they go and do something to lose your trust.

     You see, someone has to earn your trust in order to lose it.

     So it’s when you trust someone that they have the most freedom to do something deceitful.

     That’s why I don’t trust anybody.

     Like Ronald Reagan said, when discussing nuclear missile programs with Michael Gorbachev, “Trust, but verify.”

     So here I was, trusting, but verifying.

     I had a creeping suspicion from my woman’s intuition.

     Press a button, selecting from a menu.   Boop.

     Press another button selecting from another menu.   Boop.

     The evidence was all there.   Stupid cow.   Right there in chronological order.

     I read a couple just to make sure that it wasn’t innocuous banter.

     Maybe something like his advances and her protestations of her love for me.

     It wasn’t.

     I said, “What have we here?”, and I went down the list reading the chronological progression of the evidence.

     “Dinner and a movie?”

     I clicked through to the next message.

     “ ‘Make sure you buy some more condoms?’   Well, at least you’re having safe sex.”

     While I read down the list, I fucked her ass.   Steadily.   I wasn’t in any rush.

     “ ‘I can’t wait to suck your dick tonight.’ ”, I paused.

     I put on an angry tone, “What’s wrong with my dick, huh?   My dick not good enough for you?”

     I wasn’t angry with her.    I just wanted her to think I was angry with her.   That way she’d struggle, and her writhing would make the sodomy that much more dynamic.   This was more exciting than a donkey punch.

     Usually when I fucked her in the ass, she would just take it like a corpse, mooing plaintitively with her mouth taped shut.   Her wrists loosely bound with duct tape.   She could have shimmied free whenever she wanted to, and when we were done she had all of the tape off in under ten seconds, and then strutted off to the bathroom to administer to her throbbing asshole.   Maybe to sit down on the toilet and take a minute to recompose herself and poop out my semen, so it didn’t come oozing out of her swollen butthole while we were laying around in bed afterwards.   I never really fucked her very hard.   Not like you see in anal porn.   I didn’t want to tear her anus.   I wanted her to come back.   It was fun fucking her, and I wanted her to come back for more.   So I didn’t fuck her in the ass every time she came by or I figured she’d get tired of that shit and she wouldn’t come over any more.   It wasn’t really very exciting that way, so I usually just focused and tried to come so I could have it over with.   I didn’t really enjoy fucking her in the ass.   I mostly just did it, because I know she didn’t like it.

     I grabbed a fistful of her peroxide blond hair in my right fist and pulled her head back.

     I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Or maybe I should choke the life right out of you right now, huh?”   I gave her a few hard rams in the ass.   Leaning in closely I could hear her swallow and hear the air whooshing in and out of her nose in short panic breaths.

     I leaned back on my haunches and extended my hand to the side of her face.

     When my hand brushed the side of her face, she jerked her head away, and I had to use my right hand to pin her head sideways against the stack of pillows, while I fumbled for the edge of the tape with my left thumb and forefinger.

      “Quit struggling.”, I said, exasperatedly.   “I’m just trying to take the tape off.”

      I managed to pinch the edge of the grey duct tape between my thumb and forefinger and picked a little finger-tab free, then ripped the length of tape off of her mouth.   Like you do with a band-aid when you don’t want it to hurt, but I’m sure it stung a little.   The area where the tape had been was pale for a second, in comparison to her flushed cheeks, but then the blood rushed in.

     She breathed out from her mouth, and it made a “Puh” sound as her lips unstuck.   She snorked back the spit and snot that had built up at the back of her throat and I heard her gulp it down, then she started breathing through her mouth.

     I waited for her to get a few breaths in, then I resumed sodomizing her at a steady pace.

     “Well?”, I said, “What have you got to say for yourself?”

     The first thing she said was my name.

     Like the parent of a serial killer saying the name of the missing to humanize them.

     “Yes?”, I replied.

     “Please.”, she said.

     “What?   I’m not hurting you or anything.   It’s not like you haven’t been fucked in the ass before.   By me.   On several occasions.”

     “Untie me.”, she said.

     “Nope.”   I continued my steady rhythm.   “I figure we have something we have to talk about.”

     I waited to see if she had anything else to say.

     I could practically see her mind racing, trying to figure out all of the angles.   Trying to think ahead to what I might say.   What I might do.

     You see, I had thought everything out already, and had planned this out, and everything was going according to plan.   Whereas she had to think on her feet.   Or hogtied on her stomach more to the point.

We had wrestled around before, and she knew that I had her pinned and she wasn’t going anywhere unless I decided to let her.   So she just put her head down and her whole body relaxed a few degrees.

     “I’m not going to hurt you.   Not unless you make me.”   I paused verbally, but not physically.

     “The way I figure it the whole thing boils down to one question, and that question is, ‘Him or me?’ ”

     “What?”

     I slapped her across the back of her head on the right side with my right hand, open-palmed, and it made a smack and a thud sound simultaneously.   Her body clenched for a second in reaction and stayed a little more tense than it had been before I slapped her upside the head.

     “You know I hate repeating myself.   And you know I know that you’re not stupid so don’t play dumb with me.   I asked you a question.   ‘Him or me?’ ”

     I kept fucking her ass steadily.   She didn’t answer.

     She was thinking.   She was being willful.   She was being stubborn.

     Maybe she was trying to think of the right things to say to influence my behavior, but I wasn’t in the mood for head games.   I figured we had enough of prevarication and subterfuge and dissembling already.   It was time for plain talk.   But since she was being willful I had to break her will.

      I swept my right hand across the back of her head, gathering her hair into a pony-tail in my fist.

      I pressed my body down onto hers.   My front to her back, and I pulled her head back, craning her neck.

      I switched up the pace, pulling my dick out till just the head was inside.  When I felt the head bump against her sphincter I’d ram it back in, balls deep, accentuating the end of my sentences.

      Pull out. “Well?”   Ram!

      Slowly pull back.   “What’s it gonna be?”   Ram!