Incited

Everyone has a weakness, a vice, something they can't turn away from regardless of the repercussions. For me, it was my sister-in-law's brother, Paul. There was just something different about him, at second glance. He was approachably good-looking, average body, dark hair. But there was a certain detached look in his eyes...a different breed of arrogance.

It was rare I got the opportunity to be around him. But when I did, I made the most of it and tried adamantly to engage him. I found that being coy didn't work. Neither did 'friendly' or 'standoffish'. After a few attempts, I knew I was making a fool of myself. But I couldn't help wanting to know that man. He was this ongoing mystery I couldn't solve. I had done some digging, but there wasn't a trace of him on the internet that I could find. The only thing I heard through the family grapevine was that he was unattached.

So there I was, at a family wedding reception. And there he was, standing around nearby the cash bar, having a drink. Upbeat dance music filled the air around me. Like clockwork, I felt myself drawn to him, so I walked over. His dark eyes avoided mine; he turned away as I approached.

"Hi Paul"

"Lisa" He said curtly, looking straight ahead.

An idea came to mind, an approach I hadn't yet tried- "I guess I must be a humiliation slut."

Paul's body stiffened, but not in a disconcerted way, in a familiar way.

"You're obviously not interested, but I keep coming back for more punishment, don't I?" I continued on with the definition, as if he required it.

Paul glanced down at me. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"I just told you."

"Because you're a humiliation slut," he smirked. Shaking his head, Paul turned to walk away from me.

"Why do you do this?" I followed him. "Why won't you even talk to me?" I was at his heels, clamoring for an explanation.

"Because I don't want to give you the wrong idea, and let you think I'm coming around."

"And that's fine." I conceded.

Suddenly, I realized we were outside. I'd followed him straight out an exit door at the reception hall. The door slammed shut behind us, muffling the sound of the music inside, as I continued my plea, "Can you just tell me why, and then I'll leave you alone forever?"

"You promise?" He leaned down towards me with arched brows.

Nodding, I reassured him, "I just want to know."

*********************

Paul reached over and grabbed the front of my throat. He steered me backwards into the side of the building. "I don't date. And what I do, isn't gonna happen with my brother-in-law's sister."

"What do you do?" I couldn't help but ask. My heart was racing. The feeling of his hand gripping my throat didn't scare me like it should.

Those arrogant eyes penetrated me; he spit in my face. I flinched, gasped in surprise, and then patiently waited for his answer.

"I humiliate sluts." He said plain as day.

The sound of my heartbeat moved up into my head. I could hear the blood rush so steadily. Paul's other hand whipped around out of nowhere and smacked me across my face. "That's what I do." Leaning over me, he asked, "Do you want what I give, Lisa?"

Halfway in a state of shock, I nodded right along. I was completely caught off-guard. It was like a dream, I didn't know what to expect.

"Get down on your knees."

I glanced over at the exit door. Paranoia-a natural instinct-but I shook off my nerves. I grabbed the front of my dress, held it out of the way, and lowered myself down to my knees. The humid concrete dug into my skin immediately, the first level of pain.

"Put your arms up," Paul's voice was low but lucid. I raised my arms up over my head. He grabbed my wrists together in one hand and pressed them into the side of the building. I watched him reach down with his other hand, to undo his pants. When he pulled it out, it was only half hard, at best. He really wasn't into me, I realized, embarrassed. He smacked it against my face, encouraging me to open my mouth. And I did.

Paul slid the tip in over my tongue and then grabbed the back of my head. "You just couldn't let it go, could you, Lisa?"

My eyes darted up to his as he curled his fingers into my dirty blonde hair. My wrists were pinned under Paul's hand against the building and my knees were on fire; the concrete bit into my flesh. He was looking down at me, as though this was nothing.

Paul pushed himself into my throat, quietly succeeding in making me completely forget where I was at, who I was... It was impulsive and disgusting, and wildly fulfilling at the same time. Unfortunately, it was also short-lived.

I heard voices, on the other side of the door. So did Paul. He quickly pulled out of my mouth, zipped himself up and yanked up on my wrists- pulling me up onto my feet. My dress dropped down to cover my bright pink knees.

Paul let go of my wrists and momentarily wrapped his hand around the back of my head.

The exit door swung open, bringing a burst of the music playing inside the hall.

He leaned down over my ear and asked, "I'm not done, are you?"

I shook my head. He turned to the open door beside us and grabbed the handle, holding it open for the people walking out. Paul walked back inside.

I reached up to wipe away the residual spit on my cheek and smiled politely at the couple exiting the building. I headed back into the reception hall.

Back inside, the vibe with Paul shifted dramatically. I could see him across the room, as I made small talk with a few family members. His brand of charisma was very unfamiliar territory for me. It was specific. It was the part of him that he was willing to show me and I was willing to accept that. I continued mingling, waiting for his next move.

Out the corner of my eye, I noticed him in the doorway, looking at me. He nodded in my direction- my cue to come over. My breath caught in my throat. I was incited. Everything became a blur, as I excused myself and dashed over to the doorway...

********************

When the blur cleared, I was lying spread eagle on a wooden picnic table, outside in the park nearby the reception hall. My dress was bunched up around my waist; my hose and panties were pulled down my thighs. My head was hanging back over the side of the table, and I was being told to put three fingers into myself.

"Straighten them out, side by side." Leading by example, Paul slipped three of his fingers into my mouth and curled them down flat against my tongue. His dick was hanging out the front of his pants, right next to my head. It had more stiffness to it, now.

"Push and pull; I'm not touching you." Paul said in a relaxed tone. He slid his fingers out of my mouth, dragging a light trail of my saliva down my cheek. I shoved my fingers inside, surprised by my own compliance. I'd never acted like this before, it was a 'take what you can get' scenario.

"Open your mouth," he said, just before slapping my moist cheek. I paused, briefly stunned. I relaxed my jaw, my head upside down, and let him push his way in. He glanced down at my crotch, "don't stop."

My wrist tensed up. I straightened my fingers and worked them in and out of myself.

"I want to hear you smack yourself."

My palm began slapping against my swollen clit as I finger-fucked myself at his direction.

I felt his warm hand land on my neck. He was forceful, but not violent, pushing deep into my mouth. "You're gonna come with me in your throat. Do you understand?"

I let out some indiscernible noise-word. I was willing to do whatever he asked. He reached down with both hands and grabbed onto my hair. "Then do it now. Go."

And just like that. I felt a hot puddle form in my palm as I pressed it against my clit and arched up into a momentarily paralyzing orgasm on the picnic table. My throat closed around him in a swallow; my cunt squeezed tight around my fingers. I had no idea that this immense release was the equivalent of a nursery rhyme, in his world.

My ass dropped down and hit the picnic table with a thud. He pulled out of my mouth and stepped back. I took a deep breath and lifted my head up, dizzy.

"Sit up."

Still under his influence, I sat up straight and turned sideways, resting my feet on the picnic table seat. Paul walked over and stood across from me, face to face. "Are you gonna keep this our secret?"

"Yes" I looked into his dark eyes.

He stared back at me, blankly. "You don't want anybody to know about this either, do you?"

"No," my eyes were wide with sincerity. I really didn't. I just wanted to relive it in my head a few times over with my hand shoved up inside me, was all.

It had become clear to me that Paul and I came from two different worlds, lifestyles. Feeling a bit nervous, I reached down and tucked my fingers under the waistband of my hose. I wanted to pull them up, but he wasn't done talking.

"I don't mix my personal life with family, for obvious reasons. I shouldn't even have done this. It wasn't worth my time." Paul stepped back from me and turned away. "Make good on your promise. Don't ever talk to me again, Lisa." He said over his shoulder as he walked off.

A feeling of despondency crept up inside me. On one hand, I'd gotten what I asked for, finally. But I knew realistically, that I couldn't put it aside. I would want there to be a next time.