"Oh, Christ! Yes, god, yes, Roger! Fuck me so hard! Fuck! Me! Fuck! Me!"
Sandra was bouncing up and down on Roger's cock, embedded deeply inside of her. Roger was tweaking her nipples, rubbing them between his fingers and thumbs. Sandra was furiously rubbing her clit, trying to come so very hard.
"Goddamn, Roger! Your cock is so thick! Make me fucking come!"
Her words were making him even stiff. Roger grunted, arched his back off the mattress and pulled her down upon his member, driving even further into her pussy.
When Sandra had come to the outside door, he had thought he was hearing things, as a result of banging his head against the wall. The buzzer of the apartment intercom had pulled him out of his self-hatred. He thought it was Julia. He prayed it was Julia.
Her voice was sweet but it wasn't Julia's. He hadn't been at all happy to hear it but he buzzed her in anyway. When Sandra came in through the already-opened down, Roger had felt his heart beat faster. He wanted to kill her or something for doing what she had done to him. To Julia.
His pulse was so rapid, he felt as if he was going to have a heart attack.
Sandra had come to him, put her hand around the back of his neck and felt the sickly sticky blood there. She pulled her hand away and looked at it.
"What have you done to yourself?" she'd asked him.
She had gone to his kitchenette and into the freezer, found some ice cubes and a towel and brought them back out into the living room.
"Sit down," she'd ordered him and he'd followed her instruction. She'd put the towel to the back of his head and held it there. It felt good for a moment and then it started to hurt.
Sandra had looked at the impact point and said, "I don't think it'll require stitches but you have to stop hurting yourself."
After a couple more minutes of icing the wound, he'd grabbed the towel from her, kept the pressure on it. He'd turned to face her and Sandra had put her forehead to his.
"Everything's going to be all right," she'd told him, soothingly.
And that's how it started. With a kiss, then a fondle, then they'd stripped each other's clothes off and she'd given him a blow job and he'd licked her pussy. The ice cubes and towel and cut on the back of his head were forgotten.
They moved to the bedroom and they started to fuck.
Roger had dominated her in bed, told her what he wanted and made her do it. He finally felt in control for the first time in so very long.
When she'd blown him, she had taken him down her throat and, as she said, she was so much better than Julia. She never gagged and she never choked and he had felt like she was going to make him come.
Roger didn't want to end it like that so he'd gotten on his knees and forced her legs apart and licked her cunt and sucked on her clitoris until she was bucking against his face.
Now they were in bed and on the verge of a mutual orgasm.
Roger grunted and pulled her down as far as possible on his cock. He exploded into her and Sandra let loose around his cock, drenching it and his balls as her juices slid out of her.
They collapsed and then held each other, kissed each other deeply. Roger finally felt whole again, even though he knew he had betrayed Julia with her own mother.
Sandra asked him to describe how he felt and he couldn't do it.
And then he was saved by the buzzer. Sandra had a good idea who it was. She knew Roger had to know, too.
"If you answer that," she told Roger, "you will regret it for the rest of your life. Julia has been moping for a week. She thinks you hate her. But if you open that door and she sees us, she'll hate you forever. I think it's better if you let her go on believing you don't want anything to do with her."
Roger sat up, pushed off the bed and headed for the living room, for the intercom. Sandra was right behind him and, as they reached the intercom, she pressed her body against his back, hugged him.
