Mind Bending Ch 01

Copyright© 2008 SolShadow all rights reserved

*

My awakening happened one day much like any other, except Jennifer from across the street called me for the first time. In a breathy nervous voice, she awkwardly asked if I could help her. Of course, I would help my neighbor in need.

I crossed the street under the watchful eye of the brilliant Florida midday sun and knocked on her door. The door opened a crack and her bright sky blue eyes topped by dark furrowed brows, peeped out at me from the coolness. She whispered hoarsely,

"Come in."

I nodded as the door swung open wider to admit me.

I scanned her warmly stylish living room while stepping inside. I breathed deeply appreciating the cool scented air and turned to her for direction. Oddly, she was still shielded behind the door and not moving to shut it. I looked at her quizzically. Her face flushed deeply, and she said anxiously,

"In the laundry room," and pointed.

I studied her a moment longer, nodded and walked in the direction she pointed while thinking about the cool air escaping into the stifling heat from the opened door.

There was a small hole in the washing machine cold-water hose streaming water in an arc. She had placed a green plastic bucket on the floor to collect most of the stream. Twin large white metal washer/dryer cubes sat together next to a washbasin on white linoleum, with white wire racks holding laundry supplies above. The cramped room lit naturally by closed white horizontal blinds, smelled of scented detergent. There were spigots behind the washing machine, which I closed, and the stream quickly subsided.

The situation seemed, well... unlikely. Jennifer struck me as quiet, but intelligent, though I loosely based my opinion on the few sentences I spoke to her. Frankly, she married a dullard named Larry. He once told my wife and I, in our final religious conversation, that he had all the answers, and to just ask him. Not surprisingly for such a juvenile boast, he didn't know the questions, never mind the answers.

Jennifer, on the other hand, was quietly tasteful and stylish. Her living room was busy, with thriving plants and dried grass in vases and furniture and knickknacks, but the cacophony went well together in a cozy atmosphere of quiet beauty. This beauty and order from seeming chaos reinforced my opinion of Jennifer's intelligence, so I absently wondered why she didn't think to shut off the spigots herself. Surely, this was within her ken.

Turning to speak to her about it, I stood transfixed, previous thoughts erased. She mopped the water from the floor with her back to me. Never seeing her in revealing dress, I marveled at her tight black short shorts. Her round buttocks tensed and relaxed, her hips gently swayed as she glided from foot to foot punctuated with a quick twist of the mop.

I stifled a groan of longing, hypnotized by her seductive dance. I shook my head realizing, I was torturing my married self with cravings for a woman likewise committed. I looked down at my loose shorts and realized that my arousal was plainly visible. I reluctantly closed my eyes with a sigh and turned away. My imagination just spun out of the realm of possibility. Jennifer would never seduce anyone and certainly not a married man.

I focused intensely on the hoses, slowly disconnecting, dumping the excess water into the washbasin and coiling the hoses for replacement. After regaining control of my run away yearnings, my breathing slowed and I turned back to her.

She stood with the mop defensively in front of her. She breathed raggedly as she stared at me in vulnerable concentration. Her hands slowly slid down the mop shaft revealing her chest. I looked down from her eyes to her heaving breast. She wore a sheer white tank top. Her nickel-sized nipples stiffly poked the light material. This was no misunderstanding and her intent, perfectly clear.

I never thought sexually about Jennifer before this visit. She avoided attention. Her clothing was always tasteful, but in a matronly non-sexual way. She never engaged in heated discussion, so I overlooked her, disregarded and shamefully ignored her. That was over... forever. She forced me to acknowledge her and her desires.

I felt my face flush instantly and hot blood pumped into my genitals. A myriad of conflicting emotions blasted apart my calm. Surprise, lust, guilt, virulent pride in her choosing me, and, to my astonishment, anger. Yes, anger.

The world spins without my assistance and I'm not deluded with mastery of it, yet I do exercise great control over my response to its ever-changing nature. Jennifer innocently threatened to wrest that control from me with her temptations. The players moved; the collision inescapable. Random... maybe.

I am somewhat inured to the constant assault of sexual images and imagery from the media and the flirtations of loose women, but I never expected this behavior from Jennifer. Not from her. The shock of her actions caused the collapse of my inadequate guard and threw me into a whirlpool. In this rapid, volatile situation, I felt deceived and betrayed by her. In my mind, Jennifer made me believe she was someone else, someone who would never tempt me this way.

Jennifer could not control my assumptions, but that did not occur to me at the time. At the time, the situation infuriated me. I was ill prepared and momentarily, gaped in surprise. Anger took lead. I would make her pay for awakening this dangerous lust.

The mop trembled in her hand as I grabbed it. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as if bolting was the most appealing option, all the while she gazed confusedly into my angry face. She reluctantly surrendered the protection of her mop. She should have run. Her acquiescence thrilled and dumbfounded me simultaneously. I shouldn't feel lustful glee at this tiny surrender.

I leaned the mop against the wall. Now, I would make this experience repulsive and very soon she would flea in disgust, never attempting to wrest control from me again. Ultimately, she would know her error.

"Kneel," I growled, placing my hands on her shoulders. To my surprise, she easily knelt and looked up at me, dark eyebrows knotted over wide blue eyes. My mouth went dry as thrilling, barbarous possibilities exploded in my mind. My hands trembled with dawning barely restrained lust. I fought for control of these wild thoughts.

I wrapped my hand around her silky dark ponytail and pushed her face close to my bulging crotch, feeling her warm breath through my shorts. I pushed her face into my crotch.

"Lick," I croaked.

The pink tip of her tongue moved against my bulge and my heart lurched. More hot blood engorged my sex. Surely, she would run, I thought confidently, but her ministrations continued.

Angrily, I pulled down my shorts and my hardened cock sprang out slapping her chin.

"This is why you dressed like a slut? Wiggled your ass? Showed me your tits? You want my cock," I hissed contemptuously. She looked down not speaking. I slapped her face with shivering excessive energy it was more than I intended; I wanted shock value, not pain.

"Well?" I asked belligerently covering my misstep.

She nodded her head.

"Say it!" I growled.

"Yes."

"Say it all," I bellowed.

Angrily she burst out, "I want your cock," And for just a moment, she was shocked followed immediately with a defiant glare.

"Does Larry know you're an adulterous whore?" I shouted mercilessly, watching her combatively, knowing this had to be the breaking point. I sneered as the moments silently passed, but for heavy breathing. Holding her tight, I squeezed my penis and drew a disgusting line of oozing pre-cum along her cheek and onto her lips.

Finally, she pointedly licked her lips and confessed red faced,

"Only you and I know I'm an adulterous whore."

Something blasted apart in my mind, temporarily wiping away thought, and I trembled with shameless anticipation.

Taking a few moments to gain equilibrium, I panted,

"Open your mouth, I'm going to feed my whore."

Tentatively she opened and I savagely thrust into her hot wet mouth.

I jerked her ponytail back and forth roughly pumping her head. Her hot moist lips wrapped around my veined shaft. Deeper and deeper I went. She gagged and recovered, but she would not break. I thrust down her throat burying her nose in my pubic hair. I'd never been so aroused and the depth of the arousal confused me. I held her still and looked down.

I was shocked to find her legs spread wide with her hand feverishly working between them. I yanked her mouth off me,

"Don't you touch that filthy hole, " I yelled and slapped her eager hand away. She groaned in agonized disappointment.

"Finish the job." I grunted while pushing her face back on my raging hard-on.

She took me in noisily slurping and aggressively maintained the rhythm without my help. She moaned on my cock making me shiver with excitement. Saliva mixed with pre-cum rolled down her chin as she unreservedly applied her mouth to my endowment. By this point, lessons forgotten, I knew she would not break; she wanted it this way. I wanted it this way.

I could not stand more; I was past the point of no return. I groaned loudly and grasped my aching hard-on in my fist, pulling it from her luscious mouth. I grunted, squirting a thick semen rope across the bridge of her nose. She flinched, but kept her mouth a gaping target for my seed. Her eyes filled with savage need.

I shot repeatedly with eyes shut tightly. The white-hot ecstasy receded, and slowly, previously banished thoughts returned unwanted. Jennifer moved and I opened my eyes to find her crawling on all fours, lapping dog-like, the stray droplets of semen from the freshly mopped linoleum floor. I watched in fascinated horror.

Simply, I was past the zenith and she was not. A terrible wrongness, disgust with Jennifer and myself, welled up while she searched the floor with mad gusto. I shut my eyes to the scene, but my now flaccid penis oozed a milky drop. Jennifer crawled over and sucked the pearl into her mouth.

She sat on her feet with my foot nestled between. I could feel moist heat on my shin. She shimmied closer wrapping her arms around my leg. Her tongue gently stroked my scrotum making my skin tighten shockingly. She proceeded to grind her pelvis into my shin. I will always remember this image of her wrapped around my leg taking pleasure from me.

She slid up and down my leg, grunting. I watched wide-eyed and dry mouthed. She left all rules of propriety and tact behind. As if the constrictions remained on the ledge from which she leapt into free-fall, shamelessly seeking selfish pleasures within the impromptu rules I applied. I was tempted to jump as well, freedom beckoned powerfully, but in a moment of insight, I realized my reckless actions would destroy our current lives. I needed to stay vigilant, to protect both our families and ourselves.

I was post climax, so I contented myself with the more and the less of my position while her motion frantically intensified. It was hard to keep balance; such was the force of her dire need to release. Abruptly, she stopped licking and closed her eyes. She looked down, her fingers digging into my leg and suddenly she screamed and growled and screeched to a breath shaking halt. She trembled for a few moments and exhaled loudly. Spent.

I watched her breathing slacken, fascinated. She looked directly away from me, I thought in embarrassment, but she did not alter her embrace. Moments later, her shoulder shook with muffled sobs. I watched her intently and incredible warmth for Jennifer flooded me. I ached to ease her suffering. I imagined deeply emotional self-recriminations savaging her psyche. Her cravings were not typical, and for many, revolting. The revelation had to cause severe turmoil within her.

I gently stroked her silky black hair, murmuring sympathy. Her sobs eventually ebbed. She needed to be reassured, so I solemnly said,

"Jennifer, I'll never tell a soul."

She looked up at me in surprise, "I know."

She was right; it was truth. I would never expose her, but how did she know? She didn't know me well, so her trust in me seemed misplaced; nevertheless, it deeply affected me, bound me to her. We studied each other for long moments, and then I said huskily,

"Go clean up."

She went to rise, but it felt all wrong and I don't know why.

"No." I bellowed more loudly than intended.

"No," I repeated more softly. "You will crawl from my presence." Her cheeks flushed and her eyes flashed angrily, but she crawled on hands and knees from the tiny laundry room.

That night, I lay next to my wife. Oddly, I behaved perfectly normal all evening, just another day. The earlier experience was completely alien to me, as if a perverted demon possessed my body for twenty minutes out of our eleven years of marriage. What percentage was twenty minutes out of eleven years? Was there a need to confess? I've never treated a woman like that before, so it was easy to rationalize it was an isolated incident, never to happen again. I promptly went to sleep.

I woke later that night, my erection bouncing with the beat of my thumping heart. The dream image of Jennifer's head in my hand, her warm mouth open and ready to receive me, faded very slowly. The vision disturbed me and I wondered...

The whole experience felt like a car crash, over quickly and the damage unrecoverable, but, was it over? Was it like biting the apple or opening Pandora's box? Was it a one way street, that once an act was committed, you could never turn back? Was it insidiously bending my mind? Was I being consumed? Was Jennifer being consumed? While sleeping next to that dullard Larry, was she dreaming about kneeling for me? With that thought, my heart surged powerfully revealing my naked need.

Now, I couldn't sleep.