I drove home in a fog, radio off, head filled with images I kept replaying over and over in my mind. All I could think of was how far across the line I had strayed, how deep I had allowed myself to go with a total stranger.
I looked down at my hands gripping the steering wheel and remembered the feel of "Anthony's" hair in my hands, the shape of his head as it bobbed, his tongue pumping into my wet mouth, my lips and breath connecting with his. My tongue wrapping around his.
I looked down at my wrinkled blouse and remembered the way he pinched and pulled and squeezed my nipples through my blouse, through my bra. He was selfish and self-centred and cocky. He didn't even care about ripping the beautiful black lace bra I had carefully chosen to wear, something he had specifically requested. When I told him that he was pinching my nipples far too hard he hissed "toooooo baaaaad" and squeezed even harder, making me spurt hot clear liquid over my fingers, down my thighs, onto my pantyhose, into my boots, some of it landing in spots on the tile floor of that locked mall bathroom.
As I stopped at a light, I shifted in my seat, trying to ignore the sopping wet swamp between my legs. My sensitive nipples were chaffing against the black lace of my bra. Even though my face was flushed hot with blood, there were goosebumps on my arms.
I shivered as I remembered his hips and legs wedging mine apart, how he used his knees to brace my thighs apart, wide enough to allow him to slide his rubbery cock into the oily wetness I couldn't stop from leaking out of me. The feel of his hot hands as he steadied my ass, pulled me into him.
I had been naive to believe his promises that he wasn't going to penetrate me, that he wasn't going to fuck me, that he "only wanted to feel how wet I was, how wet my pussy was, how hot I was." I thought he was only going to use his fingers...
In the silence of my car ride home, I replayed his deep groans and long moans when the bulbous head of his thick cock finally made contact with my swollen folds. When I realized what he was planning on doing next, I hastily reminded him of what he had agreed to over the phone: "No fucking. No penetration, just watching..."
With a believable sincerity he told me that he wouldn't break his promise. Even while he was roughly ripping a bigger slit into my pantyhose, he promised me repeatedly that he wasn't going to fuck me. He promised he (rip) wouldn't even (rip) try. He wasn't interested in fucking, he only wanted to (RIP) see how wet he'd made me.
When we had talked over the phone, he told me he couldn't wait to let me watch him masturbate, watch him stroke his cock, tug and rub and pull on his cock until jets of cum pouring out. That was what we had agreed to, that was all I wanted.
Our encounter started off that way, but the moment I saw him stop masturbating, cross the floor and sidle up next to me while I was masturbating, I knew. We both knew. He pinned me against the counter and I protested, but I didn't resist. I didn't push him away, I didn't stop rubbing my wet pussy. I didn't even try. He pumped his cock against the back of my masturbating hand. My hums turning to stifled moans. He moved in so close that it was suffocating. He held me close, hard, strategically, so that I couldn't lower my arms.
I let him shimmy my weak thighs apart, let him rub the wet slit in his cock all over the wet slit of my pussy. I let him grab at my ass with his big rough hands, let him pull my ass cheeks apart...
"Anthony" knew he had me. He played me. He tauntingly promised, "NO fucking" and that with that he pinned my legs as wide as they would go and drove the length of his thick cock into me, three or four short jabs at first and then alllll the way in, as deep as his balls would let him. He rammed me into my own ass, squished my pussy tight against his cock and fucked me hard. He grunted and gloated as he watched me grind my g-spot onto the cum-filled head of his out-of-control cock.
Liquid gushed out of me and all over everything. He pumped me full of short quick strokes and hard direct words: "Fuck ME that feels good. Uhn. Yeah yeah yeah. Niiiiiice.... there you are," he whispered between breaths, our eyes wide open as he let me feel sweet torture.
"Fucking tease," he said. "I'm gonna get you... Uhhhnnn, yeah, and now I'm gonna make you give it to me..."
Fucker. Taunting me while he fucked me, fucking me while he delved deeper and deeper until we both came so hard that the cum shot out of him, onto me and all over the both of us. He pulled out and made me watch while he jizzed all over my pantyhose, my cunt, my legs, the backs of my knees. Then he plunged back into me just in time to feel my spasms clench at full intensity, my breaths trapped in suspended animation. Wet and spent, he left me with barely enough energy to suckle the juicy cummy remains out of of his cock.
----------------------------------------------
I pulled into the driveway, I still had hours before Mark was due home. Plenty of time to clean up and make him an extra special meal. I wanted Mark to fall in love with me again. I clicked on the garage door opener and rounded the corner into our driveway, smiling. My heart stopped as I struggled to make sense of what I saw: Mark's car already parked in the garage.
Before I could think of what to do with that information, the door leading to the kitchen opened. Mark stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
He watched me as I pulled in. Waited for me to step out of the car.
"Hi Honey," I said, smiling as I grabbed my purse from the passenger side. I tried to manoeuvre the purse so that it would distract from my wrinkled blouse. Luckily I had recently brushed hair and re-applied lipstick, having cleaned as best I could back at the mall.
"You're home early," I said nonchalantly as I leaned in to kiss him, my heart pounding.
"Where have you been?" He asked as he pulled away from me, arms still crossed.
"I went to get a pedicure but they were double-booked when I got there so I came home," I said, almost convincingly.
There was a long awkward moment of silence. Mark's eyes burned into me. I knew that I'd been caught.
He gave me the once-over, stopping at my short skirt. I could feel my shoulders stiffen.
"When's the last time you wore that?" He asked as he looked at my skirt. It was still damp in places from the emergency laundering after my encounter with a man whose real name I didn't even know.
"This skirt? Oh, I don't know... September?" I felt myself blush.
Mark uncrossed his arms and that was when I saw something he'd had in his hand: our cordless phone. "I've been home since noon," he said. "Time enough to do a little investigating. Who exactly is Michael?"
I lost all ability to reason. I sputtered out some incomprehensible jumble of sounds.
