Curiousity Ch 05 09

Part 5: Misinterpretation

She had no time to think; her panties were approaching full blast,and with her little oral performance, she was already turned on, enough that this thing was going to give her a screaming orgasm. Without hesitation, she shoved her husbands cock down her throat. The look on his face had been priceless. "-but you said-" was all he could muster as the base of his dick slid all the way down her throat. His body lurched. She knew he was already close from before . She had to get him off and quickly; he'd be out of it for a couple of seconds and wouldn't notice the strange sex toy giving his wife a crazy body melting orgasm. The first wave pulsed through her thighs, up to her knees. She reached up and stroked his balls, all the while throating him as deep as she could. The second wave hit her, and she fell forward on her knees a little.

"Oh God...I'm going to..." he proclaimed, the pressure in his palms against the back of her head and neck undoubtedly involuntary. She was coming too, despite her best efforts. She felt it in her stomach first, then her pelvis, then the waves of orgasm had started, that prickly little "you're standing at the edge of a cliff ...don't you want to jump," sensation you get when looking down over the precipice. Her mind was racing

"Who, who is it...whose doing this to me?" she nearly said out loud. Her mind flashed from event to event over the last two days. Was it Deputy Drippy Dick, the UPS man, that awful soccer mom who had divulged her orgasmically challenged life over the last round of beers the night before? No, none of those seemed right.

"Oh God," she moaned, seemingly appropriate for the moment - sitting on her knees, coming harder than she'd ever felt before stroking her husbands erection nearly begging for his semen. But it wasn't waves of orgasm that made her call out to her maker. She'd started thinking about the tape, that sexy lurid masterpiece she now knew her husband hadn't filmed. She thought of her naked, tanned body laying flat on the bed, ass up in the air fucking herself nearly in two. She thought about some lurid stranger standing behind her, a faceless dark image of a sex crazed maniac. She wondered if he'd taken out his dirty dick, rubbed it while watching her fuck her tight little pussy. The real orgasm took her over.

Timing was everything in life, and her husband started to come just after she had. Those tiny spurts at first, the ones that go the furthest distance, that sting your skin if you're too close, the pulse in tune with her hand and mouth. The warm sensation in her pelvis had melted through her core and it was all she could do not to groan like a woman being stabbed to death. Something had to control her grunts and groans, hide the fact that she was coming all over a pair of sex vibrating rubber panties that a perfect stranger had given her, and she then masturbated with all afternoon. Her skirt was yanked up around her waist. When had she done that? She didn't care - she ran her palms down against her thighs, exposing the bottom of her new undergarment just a bit as she started moving her hips in turn with the pulse of her body. She shoved his cock back down her throat, the second wave of his ejaculation spurting hard in her mouth, dripping from the sides...the final burst of her orgasm ripped through her body. She was no longer in control of her hips or ass, she was bucking wildly fucking some unseen entity. She leaned further into her husbands pubis as his cock,now down her throat again, coming that last wave of semen, oozing the multitude of hot liquid spunk down the inner walls of her throat.

The momentary break from her search for Mr Mystery was over, her mind was racing again, even there on the floor, sitting on her knees in front of her limp cock'd husband, come starting to run out from underneath her rubbery new undergarment.

"What got into you?" he said quizzically, trying to catch his breath. It looked like he was starting to remember all of his consonant and vowels again.

"I just love you," she said absently, it hit her...oh God, it hit her hard just how cruel it seemed to so easily pacify him with some sweet talk and a blow job, all the while hating him a little for not understanding what just had happened. How hard she'd come, how different that encounter had been for her, and him, than any other in their history. It dawned on her that it was easy to go from pity to anger with him, and that she'd been doing it all along - only more passively, somehow writing off each instance with some alliteration of "that's just what happens to married couples." When had this started? She had been so furiously, stupidly, giddily happy, even just a few months ago...

"God, what a whore you are..." she thought, catching herself in a guilty moment of conscious. There she was, somehow blaming her husband for her own illicit acts and consequences. After all, it had been she who had the fierce and long standing need to come every fifteen seconds like some horny teenage boy, it had been she who needed the very expensive sex toy, and then was so in need to get off that she'd forgotten to lock the door so some pervert could sneak in and watch her masturbate so furiously that she hadn't even noticed there was someone there. But wait, that wasn't true was it, she was on film long before her ending up naked on the bed - glass dildo shoved deep inside.

"So it's some creep then?" she wondered...but it didn't make sense. This wasn't some dumb hick. This had taken planning, he had known where to be every step of the way. Out of sight, out of mind. This was someone very interested in her, not just some amazingly well timed candid camera moments. So it was back to who...she didn't know anyone in town, not really, not on any sort of intimate level other than sharing a drink or flirting a little to get out of some speeding ticket and a night in the drunk tank. There had been the pesky PTA queen, but she wasn't the type...not the masterminding, sexually aggressive type; she'd spent the evening discussing her hot new "spin cycle" and having to clean up her puddle before it drained down into her fresh whites. The UPS guy seemed unlikely, she'd seen him twice during the first two days they had been there - once to get her husband's new camera, drop shipped from whatever dot com he'd ordered it from, and the second time had been just an envelope with some papers from the insurance company. There had been a couple of week gap from the first two deliveries, to the last and it wasn't likely that he'd developed some super sex crush over the sporadic twenty second interactions with her.

"So who, who who who?" she couldn't take her mind off it. It had only been a minute or so of sitting there having the post-sex chit chat with her husband, but she felt like it'd been hours. There just wasn't anyone else, the only other person she'd met was her husband's work-chum Arny, but that was just a twenty second introduction when she'd taken his lunch to her husband one afternoon in a vein attempt to reconnect with him during the move. Arny wasn't odd - in fact, he was only oddly very normal. His very average frame complimented his very average face and very average hair and very average everything else. In fact, she'd considered that he was gay; she'd looked good that day she went to deliver lunch, and Arny didn't give here a second glance or so much as a courtesy wave when she'd left.

"It's just some guy," she mouthed the words silently, watching her husband turn on the water for the shower. Had she really just had a complete post-coital lovey dovey session with her man while on autopilot? "Jesus, he really doesn't understand me," she thought shaking her head, still sitting on her knees as her husband pulled the shower door closed behind him. He was prattling on about some amazing factoid from his day, all the while she sat there on the floor getting angrier and angrier. "Christ," she thought "at least the pervert makes an effort, at least he knows how to get a girl off..."she lamented momentarily until: the rubber panties roared back to life.

Part 6: Damaged

It was cold the next morning, not out of character for the area, she supposed...but it was a stark contrast to the warm mornings, hot afternoon and sultry evenings of the last two weeks. "Price you pay, she grumbled, alluding to the fact that for living in hope that summer will last forever and fall will never fall was always going to lead to disappointment. She'd stayed in bed late, as the night before had worn her out. It had taken all she could to conceal her massive orgasm from her husband, a fact that he'd never appreciate even if he did know just how much she'd kept from him. It was odd, it occurred to her, that she'd experienced such a range of emotion and affection to her husband over the last twenty four hours.

"Circle of shit," she mumbled into the empty room "Apathy, Fear, Adoration, Lust and back to Apathy in just a day." He'd gotten up early that morning, when the blue light wouldn't be giving way to golden rays of sunshine for hours - and she had laid there wide-eyed and disgusted watching him get ready, never once noticing her as she sat there in the silence of the pale morning light. Funny thing was, he was certainly convinced that she was as hot for him as ever, first with the amazing mystery blow job, and then again as he got out of the shower. She curled her knees up tighter to her chest as she recalled the last events of the evening, lying there in the cold sheets and warm comforter, naked and curled in her little ball.

The vibration had gone off a second time, catching her off guard. It was an intense and hard pattern of vibration - one undoubtedly designed as the grand finale of a series of crescendo pattern vibration cycles. This one was instant and hard. If she hadn't studied it so intricately to understand that it was impossible, she'd have sworn that the little black nub that had been pushed up almost inside her, the indentation cradling her swollen pink sensitive clitoris, was actually moving in and out of her. "It doesn't let you get away," she'd thought. The last of the orgasms had been too much - she wasn't ready, and anxiously scurried to pull the panties off before she passed out.

The catch was, black rubber panties don't pull off so easily if you've been sweating and coming all over them for the last half an hour. The motion of pulling them back and forth so furiously to work them down over her hips had made it worse - the little black nub shifting with each new position torturing her swollen sore little core. She worked, and wriggled and quietly moaned there on the floor for what seemed like an eternity, but only lasted the duration of her husband's shower, trying desperately to pry the stranger's sex toy out of her her tender pink parts. She couldn't help thinking, as she lay there wriggling on the floor, that this must what it feels like to be raped, the powerless, helpless feeling as your body was worked and forced against your will. But there was no one there on top of her, not behind her greedily kneading her bare tits, pinching and biting at her flesh, no gnarled teeth or sweaty, smelly intruder - it was just her and the panties and the powerlessness - and she liked it. How could she not, she'd never experienced orgasms this intense, and it was becoming obvious that the orchestra was being conducted by someone other than her.

"Oh God, what does that mean?" She sputtered the words out as she squeezed her eyes shut, drawing her knees up further into her chest. She wasn't a whore, she wasn't a slutty teenager who got off on strangers staring at her cleavage. She wasn't the woman who'd ever really considered cheating on her husband, though she would admit to entertaining several offers longer than she should have just for the attention. The evening's events continued to play, the brief question to her god only briefly interrupting the memory. She'd twisted and turned and finally had gotten the panties down around her knees, but it had taken too long.

Twisted there on the bathroom floor, on her knees, leaning forward, ass up in the air was the consequence of easy movement, the constant pulse and intensity of the vibration had brought her nearly to orgasm. "It wasn't just that," she admitted to herself. It was the stranger, the idea that someone had overpowered her, beaten her, gotten down and dirty with her insides without her consent. He'd talked a good game without ever saying a word, talked to her about things that count, things that matter, made her mouth go dry and her guts go gooey without so much as an introduction. The orgasm was inevitable, and she needed it to happen, she couldn't handle everything AND the aching torture of an orgasm that close. She reached down between her legs, her ass still up in the air, fingers darting past her pink puffed little lips and inside, she was soaked...and not in that early stage soft and sticky, sweet and milky way....in that gushing, hot and hard sweaty and dirty way. She sat there on the floor furiously frigging her tight little pink hole...she was almost there, just another second.

"Well if you insist..." her husbands voice shattered her concentration. She hadn't been paying attention, with the panty wrestling, the masturbation, the need to come. She hadn't noticed that he had exited the shower and had been watching her. She turned around, wide eyed as he jammed his cock inside her. She felt it first nearest her floor of her vagina first, then hard against her fingers (still furiously frigging herself) finally plunging deep inside...where you couldn't tell where he stopped and she started. He was hard - he must have liked the show.

"God, not now...he doesn't deserve this..." had she really just thought it? It was awful and she instantly regretted that she was even capable of thinking it. It didn't matter, he didn't know....he pulled out almost completely and then shoved himself all the way back in, the force of his hips against her ass enough to push her forward. Her face was pushed against the door, she remembered how her mouth felt, open, teeth almost hitting the hard wood surface. His pounding was relentless. "Look at him, he doesn't care about me...he just wants to fuck someone," that unwanted voice in her head kept repeating. Harder and harder he pounded, and with each thrust, with each heave, she hated him a little more. In stark contrast to her mind, her body was in pure ecstasy. The orgasm she'd nearly had had changed, turned first down and further into her pounded slit, but then reinvigorated into something harder, dirtier...wronger...inside of her. She came first, the waves of ecstasy reverberating through her core and then out through her appendages, her toes almost sore from curling as hard as they did. Her insides constricted, the come of her own orgasm filled her with warm enveloping embrace. She felt him twitch, his pace stiffened, his body taut.

"Look at him back there, little bitch is coming already" the dirty voice argued, she couldn't listen - she didn't want to be that woman, but she couldn't disagree. He was just back there fucking her like some dog. He didn't realize all of her that was right there in front of him, the goddess that he never noticed. He just wanted some hole to bang and look nice at parties.

"Just fucking come already," she said without restraint...the orgasm speaking for her...no it wasn't her she thought. He looked up, clearly taken aback...she'd never said anything like that to him before. "I want your come, I need you to come all over me baby..." she manufactured, applying her best "oh, don't fuck me daddy," little girl voice. He came instantly, she felt the first tiny load spurt inside, he managed to pull out and spray the next load all over her ass. She smiled, "Ohh its so good baby...mm...that's good," she mustered. How could he believe this? How could he not see through it?

"You like that baby?" He returned timidly, the last of the bass draining from his voice, his body trembling as he fell back to his knees.

"I'd like to thank the Academy," it was her own voice in her head this time, not some strange foreign cruel voice...it was all her. She enjoyed the power she held over him, it hadn't been his choice to blow his load, she'd made that happen. The next few minutes were spent executing the rituals of post-honeymoon marriage. They absently both agreed that there was no need to go out to dinner, "which is pathetic, you fuck me and you won't even buy me dinner," she mused...but ultimately wasn't in any physical shape to argue, and had conceded. There was the brushing of teeth, the changing of clothes, the exchanges of affection that were almost inert stock statements rather than genuine expression of adoration or even lust - and then the lights turned out and she was left with her thoughts. So many circled in her mind; Who was the Mystery Man, how had she become the sex queen and her husband her little gimp?... but the one that kept occurring to her was "I wonder if he's filming us right now?" followed by "If I weren't so sore, I'd jerk myself off again.."

The nights events were concluded, and now that blue hued early morning light had given way to the white light of sunshine concealed by clouds and a little light fog, she was still sore and still just as confused as the night before. The phone at her nightstand rang, she lie there for a moment contemplating whether or not she had the strength for a conversation with her husband about "how hot" the night before had been, for him of course. She finally decided that she'd pick up, only so that he'd have his ego stroking and then leave her alone to her mystery for the rest of the day. So she was surprised to see "Unknown Number" in the ID window...

Part 7: Introductions

Her insides knotted-up, and she could feel everything beneath the skin contract, almost as if she was about to get sick. The inside of her mouth was dry, and there was a hot, nearly pained feeling welling up in her stomach.

"This has to be him," she said out loud, she hadn't meant to – she'd just kind of blurted it out. The phone was in her hands now, she'd absently been moving her fingers and thumb up and down the sides, feeling the cool plastic that surrounded the tiny glowing screen. The words "UNKNOWN NUMBER" were her focal point, the letters seemed squarer, more jagged than at initial glance, the cute little spring sounds ring-tone nearly drowned out by her own thoughts. It had run only three times, but it had felt like longer. She flipped up the phone, another larger screen still glowing with "Unknown Number" underneath, now joined by what was two little words that were both capable of changing her whole world: "Answer," and "Ignore." But there was little choice, what was she going to do, let it go to voice mail? What did she think, her sex-fiend stalker was just going to give up? Her finger moved, circling the little plastic button under the word answer. The fourth ring was all she could take. She clicked the button and moved the phone up to her ear. She couldn't muster a single word despite the million questions tearing through her mind. The subtle crack of static was all that broke the silence.

"You seem to have enjoyed my gifts," a gravely man's voice said abruptly. Her heart skipped a beat, her worst fears and fantasies realized in seven little words.

"Who the hell are you?" She started uneasily, even she could hear the lack of conviction in her tone, sounding more like some preteen girl who'd been caught in the shower by a group of older boys than the confident sexy woman she fancied herself. "I don't appreciate..." she continued.

"But appreciate them is exactly what you've done...haven't you?" the voice interrupted. It was eerily calm, commanding, the question rhetorical, her answer unnecessary. She had no response ready...all she could muster, was a single spoken line.