Repercussions : Part Five (A continuation of ‘The Bet’)‘God, stop thinking!’

Repercussions : Part Five (A continuation of ‘The Bet’)

‘God, stop thinking!’ she told herself, with nothing but the sound of the radio humming softly in the living room to break her thoughts. She turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and dried herself briefly in a sinfully soft towel that she had stolen from a hotel in St. Thomas. ‘What do you really know about him? Yes, he’s good looking and sweet. His soul hurting like one of those lost sad-eyed puppies you can never ignore. Yes, he’s treated you decently. A true gentleman aside from the constant cigarette smoking. But for all you know he could be a terrible person. Like the rest of the men who have paraded through your life. All smiles and good manners until they’ve gotten whatever they wanted from you. Plus, he’s married you stupid idiot! And to your best friend as well!’

‘But I know he’s hurting. That he is loving and gentle and kind. I know it.’  She wrapped herself in a thick white robe and tied the belt, fanning her wet blonde curls across the back to dry in the air. ‘All this shit Eleonora is doing. She tells me he enjoys it but… how could the bitch be so damned blind?”

She read for a little while, sitting back in her bed among the cloud-soft pillows and losing herself in a book that she wasn’t particularly interested in. Eventually the exhaustion of the evening began to tell on her. When she caught her head drooping for the third or fourth time, she draped the bathrobe across the headboard, turned off the light and slid under the cool, crisp sheets of the bed. The feel of the clean cloth on her naked skin re-awakened her long-frustrated desires, seeding her thoughts. She turned over onto her stomach, one hand pressed against her breasts, the other stealing down her body to the junction of her thighs. She gasped, biting her lip softly as she discovered how slick and wet she had already become.

‘Oh shit! There! Right there!’ Her fingers parted her swelling lips and found the bud of her clit. As she softly stroked the pulsing nub with gentle fingers, she slowly ground her hips down into the bed, forcing her seeping warmth into the heel of her palm. She closed her eyes, fantasizing. In her mind’s eye, she peeled his suit away, revealing a glorious dream of a body. The two of them moved together as one, guided by instinct and need. Two sets of hands roamed and explored, knowing without asking how to bring the other to soaring heights of pleasure. Moving together almost weightlessly as he feasted on her quivering breasts while she held tight to the rock-solid globes of his ass.

Her orgasm came upon her like a freight train, thundering through her senses. She turned her head into the pillows to muffle a mad orgasmic scream as her body shuddered; convulsively filling her hand with a spray of hot cunt juices. Her thighs clamped around her hand, trapping it in the moist valley between her thighs. With a groan of pure release, she lay on her back spreading her legs wide as her head sank between the thick pillows. She parted her pussy lips with her fingers, freeing her scent. The fingers of her other hand slid along her slippery lips stroking her still-quivering clit in small gentle circles. She stroked it softly, knowing that she would not be able to stop until her imagination was fully sated. Until she had imagined every last way he might please her. Pamela let out a breathless moan as she felt the tears running down along her cheeks, her hips rising up to press into her stroking fingertips. She whispered his name into the darkness of her lonely bedroom and felt the orgasm rising again in her belly.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

Eleonora slumped painfully into her chair, angling her aching head to avoid the morning light seeping through the office window. The spa opened an hour later on Saturday mornings, which gave her the blessing of an extra hour’s sleep but despite the perfect summer day that leered at her from the tiny window, she was still finding it impossible to keep her eyes open. It had taken every ounce of energy she had to rise from bed. Her entire body ached, beaten mercilessly inside and out by William’s callous hands and brutal, inhuman lust. She still shuddered helplessly as she remembered his powerful sculpted body looming over her, his deep voice and bestial grunts, as he took her. Hour after hour, seemingly without end, he continued fucking the life out of her with that massive slab of meat rising between his powerful thighs. It was if he was fighting to find eternal life by beating every ounce of hate and aggression he had deep into her ruined body. For the life of her she could not remember how she had survived it. Her last memory was of her Franco lifting her broken body from the bed, whispering something unheard but soothing as he carried her gently from the motel room.

A breathless gasp escaped her lips as her body twinged in sweet agony as it remembered William’s last hard thrusts. She had screamed in pure anguish, her body and mind transported to another plane of unworldly pleasure as his massive shaft found yet another orgasm buried deep in the depths of her ass… or was it her cunt? She was so mindlessly fucked by that time he could have been fucking both holes at once for all she knew. When she woke up this morning, crawling into an ice-cold shower to gain her bearings, her body was still throbbing with what the man had done to her. She had cupped her aching mound gingerly in one palm to find it still gaping open and slavishly eager for his next violent, gut-busting thrust. All memory of the pain and violence of the night might have passed her, lost along with whatever part of her brain William had pounded out of her, but she still remembered her last thoughts before her world was crushed black. More.

The thunderous sound of a cup of hot coffee landing near to her head shocked her awake. She opened her eyes a crack, allowing a painful burst of light to send sparks of agony through her tired brain only to see Pamela standing above her with a smirk of pure amusement on her face.

Pamela tried to hide the slight snicker in her voice, failing miserably but still too amused by her friend’s enfeebled condition to care, “Late night?”

“Go to hell.” Elenora mumbled in a feeble response, even as she gingerly took the coffee to her lips. It was still warm, fresh from the tiny coffeemaker that took up an entire corner of their small office.

“I’m glad you decided to join us. For a while there I did not think you were going to make it in.” Pamela chided, “Its nearly ten. You used to come in early on Saturdays and share breakfast with me at the corner bistro. You’ve been coming in later and later these past few months and half dead at that. That’s not a good thing and you know it.”

Eleonora shook the cobwebs from her pounding head, letting the coffee do its work as the caffeine slammed into her system. The absolute last thing she needed right now was a nanny speech from the woman that left her high and dry last night. One moment Pamela was right beside her, dancing with some young man who looked so deliciously handsome and more than interested in Pamela’s oh-so-sexy little ass. The next moment Pamela was gone, run home like a scared virgin, and taking Franco with her as her personal chauffer. Eleonora could just imagine if William had taken them both to the motel! Between the two of them they might have been a match for the stud’s formidable libido. On the other hand, Eleonora was not quite sure she wanted to share William and his rock-hard pussy-slayer with anyone. Even Pamela.

“Let’s just say you should have been there.” Eleonora groaned as she lay back, pressing her head against the file cabinet which sat a bit too close behind her chair. Her head was still pounding and her body ached, but the warmth of the coffee began to take hold of her, easing both just enough for her to continue the conversation. “Where the hell did you get to anyhow? Poor Lorenzo was so disappointed that you left.”

Pamela’s face squished up in that cute, odd way when confusion reigned, “Ummm… Lorenzo?”

“Lorenzo.” Eleonora said with a sigh of remembrance. Images of the last time that particular stud had shared her bed flit through her mind fondly, “That rather good-looking young man who was dancing with you. Or don’t you remember?”

“Ah! You mean the rather good-looking young man with his hands all over my ass.” Pamela said as understanding lit up her face in a knowing smirk, “Not to mention my tits and everything else he could get his hands on. Sorry, Ellie, if I ever want to get groped by a child, I’ll let you know.”

“Child! Come on, Pam, its not like your gray and old. You are barely approaching your thirties!” Eleonora protested, unbelieving of her friend’s complete lack of adventure, or perhaps complete lack of desire. It was a thought that made her feel uneasy somehow. As if there was something very wrong with her friend… or with her, “Perhaps there is ten years of difference at most. Besides, it’s not like its meant to be something serious. Don’t you ever just feel the need to just…well… let go?”

Pamela wanted to come back with something sharp and witty, but the truth was, she was confused herself. She might have told Ellie how she had ‘Let go’ just last night but just the thought of it, and the subject of her foolish thoughts, made it impossible. Instead she slipped behind her desk, primly sliding her glasses over her nose and quietly opened the first file from her ‘In’ box. Still, she would not let her friend continue thinking of her as if she was some sexless prude straight from the nunnery.

“Ellie… I feel… the need, just like anyone else. It’s just that I’m more particular of who I share that need with. Alright? And Lorenzo and his ‘traveling hands’ just didn’t do it for me. I am assuming they did it for you though last night. Or am I wrong?”

Eleonora could not resist smiling as she thought back on her friend’s words. She had fully intended to keep her new bull and his incredible… talents… a close secret.  Bad enough it was all she could think about since she awoke this morning, but sharing it? Letting that living fantasy play out again on her lips? Fill her wanton imagination once more? She could already feel the warmth growing in her cheeks, her thighs quivering, her still-aching womanhood pulsing with need as she began forming the words on her lips. She gripped the coffee mug tight, thinking back to the first moment she had taken him in her hands, his ridiculous girth filing her hands with masculine heat. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back into the cold steel of the file cabinet as the wickedest of smiles crossed her face.

“Mmmmm…. Oh better, Pamela. So much better than sweet little Lorenzo. Last night I met a god. Big and broad and so very forceful. And so much different than the boys I am used to. I can still feel him, Pam, feel his weight and his strength; the way his arms and legs felt like corded steel in my hands. And his burning hunger! Oh Fuck, his fiery need! Burning me up from the inside out! It is a wonder how I ever could have survived it!”

Pamela watched as her friend spoke, stretching her limbs catlike, her chest rising and falling with the very excitement of the memory. Despite herself, she found her own face turning red, her own pulse racing as Eleonora described in detail his dark skin, his perfect physique, not to mention the callous manner in which he had reduced her to a shuddering, boneless wretch screaming breathlessly through endless agonizing orgasms. Without excusing herself she headed for the office bathroom, slamming the finger-thick door behind her. She cast her eyes towards the mirror which hung precariously over the sink. The gaze that she met in that mirror was glassy and wide, frightened yet alive. Reflexively she slid her sweater off over her head, heedlessly letting it drop to the floor. Her breasts were full, held painfully still by her bra, red lines digging into her flesh. They shone with sweat, yearning to be set free. Yearning for strong hands to tear them free. With a quiet gasp of horror, she felt that familiar moistness gathering between her thighs. She found herself thinking of Eleonora’s words. Of a man’s hands, a man’s arms, a man’s lust driving all those endless orgasms from her body. The only difference was the shape of the man in question.

“I tell you, Pam,” Eleonora continued, her eyes still closed as her hands pressed tight around the warmth of her coffee mug. If she had noticed her friend leave the room, it was not at all evident in her fluttering breath and words half-moaned rising from her lips, “I plan to find him again. Perhaps tonight if I can. All I can think about is how I failed to satisfy his worst instincts. My body not giving him what he so desired. Its just… Its just I’ve never been taken like that before. So brutally. So primally. So very savagely. Far beyond what I’ve ever felt. I am going to do it, though. I’m going to see him again. Let him take me. Give him… everything. Be perfect for him! So very perfect!”

Without even realizing it, Eleonora’s hand had fallen between her thighs, softly caressing herself even as she spoke to the empty room. She knew deep inside that there was something wrong with her. Her body shivering a bit too much, her panties already soaked as she ran her fingers up along her pulsing mound, her thoughts a bit too vivid as she took her lip between her teeth and remembered with bliss the absolute agony of his last grunting thrusts.

“I’m going to find him again. Be what he wants. Not fail him again.” She stuttered through panting breaths, her pounding heart racing in her chest, “Get Franco to take me. Find him again. Feel him again. Giving him this time, what my weak, stupid body did not give him before. Oh, Pam if only you might have seen him…. Pam?  Pam? Where did you go?”

Pamela had stopped listening to her friend long ago as she slapped cold water onto her face as fast as she could in the little sink. Taking in heavy breaths she felt the cool water dribble down her neck and between her breasts to run ever southward, pooling finally along her belly button. The feeling was cooling although painfully erotic. She cast her eyes down at her fallen sweater, knowing for certain she could not put it back on. Her skin was already far too warm, and she would burn herself alive if she tried. She closed her eyes tight, willing her thoughts to leave her alone. Knowing it was far too late. Instead they grew and coalesced, one leading into another sinfully without effort. She could hear Ellie calling for her now, suddenly confused by her absence.

She looked one last time in the mirror, seeing her own eyes again, now clear and with a hint of brightness. She had to help Ellie. For her own sake as well as her friend’s. Her own cure lay hand in hand with Eleonora’s and she would have to act for both of their sakes, least of all her own. Like a fresh breeze clearing away the haze she remembered that she kept a light shirt in one of the cabinets, there in case of an accidental coffee-spill or toner-emergency. Taking a minute to compose herself, she pictured herself walking out of the bathroom blaming an accidental coffee spill for her nakedness. She would casually slide on the Depeche Mode t-shirt, which she ruefully remembered Ellie buying for her, and quietly get back to work. Then she would figure out just how best to help her best friend with this madness. Before she left the toilet, Pamela slid the straps of the bra down from her shoulders. As supportive as the damned thing was, it was growing to be quite too painful to wear all day long. She would have to go shopping later. She needed something lighter. Perhaps something prettier as well.

As Pamela slid back behind her desk, Dave Gahan’s face squarely placed across her chest, Eleonora fell into her own duties for the office day. However, she did not stop reminding Pamela of her lost chances with Lorenzo and her own desire to get her young godling back into bed once again. Pamela smiled, giggling and blushing on queue but not paying a bit of attention to her friend’s sermon on the joys of carnal sin. As a matter of fact, she tuned herself out as best as possible, hardly bothering to listen as she allowed her own half-thought plans to dance and clash back and forth in her head.

The person who was listening however, was standing out in the hallway just beyond the paper-thin walls of the tiny office. She also felt her body growing warm at her touch, a wide and wicked smile passing over her face as Eleonora went on about the hard-cocked bull that had filled her with such whorish thoughts. Chiara knew that club, and the type of men that frequented it. Which is why she always stayed away from meat-markets like that. Places filled with blaring noise that pretended to be music and lust-dominated boys that pretended to be men. She spent her mis-spent youth frequenting those places. She still remembered her and her girlfriends competing for the hottest, roughest, horniest men. Bragging about their nightly conquests even as they saw one then the other of their number fall to pregnancy or disease… or worse. Chiara always counted it as her most blessed day, when she said ‘no’ and let her so-called friends go on without her. Seeing them finally as what they were; sluts to be used, addicted to the abuse as each rushed headlong over the dark-shrouded cliffs of ruined bodies and reputations until no man worth the name would bother looking at them.

Chiara had saved herself from that life. But it was more than obvious that the fat-assed bitch in the office was buried head long in it. Her mind skittered over different ways to use this new information, to leverage it into a tool of hot vengeance that would destroy the bitch forever. She entered the grungy massage room to greet her first appointment of the day. Paolo was a middle-aged man just starting to show gray around the temples and a small gut that disguised the hard muscles of his stomach. She had seen him around the neighborhood working on his sanitation truck for the city. He always waved to her when he saw her. A nice enough man although he always had the underlying sickly-sweet scent of garbage about him even after the hottest of showers. Chiara slid off her robe, revealing her perfect fuck-doll body and oiled up her hands. She always loved the way men looked at her, a sinful little indulgence she thought. The middle-aged men especially. Most, like Paolo, were married to wives who had already given up on their bodies; their stomachs falling like pale dough over their pussies and their asses spreading by the day. It was why men like Paolo came here to her. To see what their lusts were made for and to cast their eyes again on their youthful dreams. In some ways it was what kept them young.

“You seem distracted today, Chiara. Your hands not sure as they normally are.” Paolo commented, trying to think beyond the pleasant hardness growing along his thigh. It was a relief to him that he could still get hard after a week away. A week spent with his sexless wife and her equally sexless sisters.

“I’m sorry Paolo-dear.” she said with a true apology. Paolo was one of the better ones. Unlike most of the others, he actually came in for a massage and cast only a few shyly discreet looks at her heart-shaped ass and smooth firm legs. Despite his smell he was funny as well and a good listener with actual wisdom to his years. “It’s just that I have a lot on my mind right now, I suppose. Long story. I don’t want to bore you.”

“Bore me! Please!” he responded with a chuckle in his voice. “As long as it is not about the price of fish at the market or how the door still creaks after I’ve oiled it a dozen times.”

Feeling somehow free with Paolo, his eyes a fatherly brown and actually meeting her own rather than falling between her tits, Chiara felt weirdly free to tell her tale. Paolo lay on his side, looking almost comical with a single towel covering his middle, listening intently and nodding in quiet understanding. At the end he gave her a bit of advice which the two of them reshaped into an idea and then into a plan, working out the details as she sat on the massage table child-like with her legs crossed beneath her.

When they were done, Paolo invited her to meet her for coffee later on to discuss the details of her plan. Chiara smiled, knowing that with Paolo coffee meant coffee! He had given her a kernel of an idea, one that would be perhaps a bit difficult to work out but would lead to her enemy’s utter destruction if they could pull it off. In gratitude she gave the man a small kiss on the lips, watching him turn beet red as a small embarrassed smile appeared on his rough face. Then for what remined of their scheduled time together she determined to give the man the best massage of his fucking life.

Unsure of what was happening, frozen in place, Paolo watched her siding up onto the massage bed to straddle his stomach. His cock strained hard against the cheap fabric of the towel as she bent down over his legs, giving him a heart-stopping view of her tight, juicy ass.

“Relax,” Chiara whispered, as she ran her hands up and down his legs as if simply continuing the massage. Paolo shivered with anticipation, his body shuddering under her touch. Her hands ran soft circles around is thighs, slowly inching up with each teasing circle as she lifted the towel further and further up his hips. She pulled her body back, her ass pressing firmly into his stomach. He could feel the hardness of her cheeks settle on him and his hands shook fiercely with a terrible need to grab her.

Paolo groaned aloud as Chiara slid her left hand along the outline of his fully erect cock, stroking it up and down so very slowly. Her right hand moved beneath to grasp his balls, circling around them to massage them in the palm of her small but incredibly warm hand.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” she asked. She pulled the towel completely off of him, giving her full access to his throbbing meat. Chiara mewled pleasantly, feeling how heavy his balls were. The man had obviously not shot a load in a very long time. Nervous and not believing what was happening, Paolo wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. He started to slide them up and down along her hips and waist nearly afraid to touch her lest she disappear into mist.

“Don’t worry, my Paolo-dear,” she offered, “Just enjoy this.”

Her hand started to move up and down from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip, with just enough pressure so that he could feel each movement as his cock danced in her hand. She bent over lithely and gave the tip a fleeting kiss that sent a shot of pleasure slicing through him. He let out a deep moan from his chest and Chiara smiled, working his cock slowly to give him maximum pleasure.

“That’s right, it feels good. It feels so good,” she said softly as her hand trailed up slowly from the base to the tip, twisting gently as it rose and fell. Paolo could feel his balls tighten. His hips started to thrust a bit as he came closer and closer to orgasm.

“Oh fuck, I’m going to cum soon,” he warned her, moaning again under her expert fingers.

“That’s right, you’re going to cum for me. I’m going to make you cum,“ she whispered, her lips bare inches from the tip of his purplish cock-head. Her hand moved faster and faster along his cock as he felt his balls tighten. ”Cum for me, Paolo. Cum for me now.”

Lightning throbbed out of the head of his cock, growing and growing towards a shattering crescendo. “Ah… ahh… ah fuck, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, ah, fuck, ahh… AHHH!”

Chiara kept stroking as his orgasm burst, flooding his body with pleasure. She had to laugh, amazed at the powerful load that shot, and kept on shooting, into the towel before finally slowing down to dribble out onto her hand.

“My God, Paolo! That’s a good boy,” Chiara smiled as she dutifully used a spare towel to wipe his cock and her own hands clean of spunk. Paolo lay amazed under her, his own face a happy mix of wonder and delight that made her smile with pride. With that she slid from his body and gave him a small and innocent peck on his cheek, “Now it’s time for my next appointment. I will see you later tonight. Although maybe you should shower first?”