Words of Warning

Words of Warning

Public BB:

True Stories: A Word Of Warning

Posted:

Thursday, June 21, 2001 – 07:53:46 AM

by

dareevil-1@falsemail.com

It's been a quite while since I've posted anything to the board, and the reasons for that will become apparent as you read on. I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors, but please bear with me as I have no time for second drafts or revisions. I shouldn't have access to the net at all, and if I fail here no one will ever know the truth.

A little background for anyone who's never read my posts before. My wife and I enjoy role-playing. It started out a lot innocently enough in the privacy of our home. Not that our sex life needed saving or any of that psychobabble bullshit, we just love sex. We were open enough and comfortable enough with each other to explore a lot of things, as some of you may know from visiting this site over the years. (A final thanks to you for all of the positive feedback). One of our favorite games was for Angela to dress as a high-class lady of the evening and solicit me as I sat at a bar or restaurant, then finish the act in the restroom or parking lot. In the final analysis I'd say we went too far, not in our games so much as our choice of location. Anyway…

That night was the first time we went out in separate vehicles. The Idea was for me not to see her until she walked into the place, just to kiss her goodbye as if I was going out for a night with my friends. We picked a place on the West Side of town in an area well known for its reputation for drugs and prostitution. Kick me, I'm an asshole. Water under the bridge at this point.

I arrived at just after eleven PM, locked my car, set the alarm and entered the bar. Billy's. I hope it burns to the ground. As I walked in the door my heart began to race, a mixture of anticipation and fear for Angela's safety. I pushed it aside. Angela could take care of herself, she always had. I walked to the bar and sat on a ripped stool in the corner that afforded a good view of the place, ordered a Bud-Lite and took in the scenery.

A few bikers playing darts, several empty pitchers on the table. Bikers didn't scare me, most of them just regular guys who would show you the same respect you showed them. "Act like an asshole get treated like an asshole" was a motto I'd heard in many a club over the years. Several guys sat at the bar, laughing and making noise. At the other end an old guy, looking homeless, emptied his shot glass and downed a draft and called for another round. In the far corner a small, dark haired waif of a girl, frighteningly thin and dressed for the job my wife was about to role-play. A crack whore to be blunt. I watched her rock back and forth in her chair, staring at the floor, her arms wrapped about her as if she were freezing in the summer heat. I sipped my beer and waited.

I was just getting ready to dial Angela's cell phone when she walked through the door. There is hot and there is stunning. The bikers stopped throwing darts and stared, sipping beer and whispering to each other, grinning. She'd curled her long black hair and teased it up a bit so that it framed her face as if in velvet before tumbling over her bare shoulders. Her make up was heavier than usual, but not garish. A gold chain around her neck that had been her 24'th birthday present from yours truly hung between breasts that were barely covered by a thin tube top that strained against her nipples and exposed most of her belly. She had a new ring in her naval piercing that sported a charm I hadn't seen before. When her eyes became accustomed to the low lighting she walked toward me, her black spandex mini-skirt clinging to her voluptuous hips, her muscular legs bare, tapering in delicious curves to her feet that were shod in 3" spike heels. She took a seat on the stool next to me, every pair of eyes following her like a troupe of cats watching a piece of string slither across the floor, getting ready to pounce. One of the bikers whistled and she looked over her shoulder at him, smiling. My cock was already straining at the zipper, trying to push its way out. The hooker in the corner got up and shuffled to the rear of the bar.

"Can I buy you a beer?"

"A Manhattan would be better," she said, crossing her legs so that I got a quick look between. No panties. I ordered the drink and the bartender set it on the bar, taking his payment out of the pile of one's and fives stacked front of me. The woman next to me reached into her purse for a cigarette, "Got a light?"

"Sure," I said, extending a shaking hand. She steadied it gently, looking into my eyes. The bikers were back at their game.

"Lookin for a date?" She was putting on an accent, really getting into it. It was as if she really were someone else. She blew a cloud of smoke across the bar.

"How much?"

"Depends on what you want."

"Fifty?"

"Will get you a hand-job." Hell, I was about to cum in my pants anyway. I leaned closer.

"How much for a quick one against the wall in the alley?"

"A hundred, but no kissing."

"Seventy five?"

"One hundred," she said, draining the Manhattan. I could see she was shaking too.

"Deal."

We sat in silence as she finished her cigarette, stubbed it out in the ashtray, fingernails painted bright red. She leaned closer, her other hand sliding up my thigh underneath the bar, her lips almost touching my ear as she whispered.

"I'm going to the can. Give me five minutes then meet me in back."

She picked up her purse and walked to the rear hall of the bar where the restrooms were located. All eyes followed her, the black mini barely covering her ass as it swayed to and fro. She disappeared into the ladies room. I finished my beer, left a five on the bar and followed her, drawing several chuckles from my fellow patrons. Evidently this was nothing new here. I reached the darkened hallway just as she emerged from the ladies room, motioning me to follow as she headed to the back door. I was sweating though the night was cool, my hard-on making it difficult to walk. My eyes remained riveted to the gentle curve of her spine. My imagination was playing underneath her skirt where I imagined her bare pussy, dripping between her legs as she walked. She found the back door, opened it, looked outside. Seemingly satisfied, she stepped through the doorway into the night, beckoning me with a crook of her finger. Nothing to do but obey.

The alley was narrow and barely lit by a bulb flickering overhead. A puddle in one corner where water dripped from a gutter two stories above. An overturned trash can, its contents spilled into the puddle where some unseen creature rummaged for a meal. The only way out other than the door through which we had come was guarded by a gated stockade fence. Perfect.

"Let's see the money." She said. I pulled out my wallet, counted it out. Five twenties. She took it from my extended hand and slipped it into her purse. "You got fifteen minutes."

I doubted I would last five. I pushed her against the brick wall, jerking her tube top down to expose her breasts, taking one hard nipple into my mouth and then the other. She leaned her head back against the wall and moaned. So much for the detachment part of the act. I didn't care, just wanted to fuck her in this dark dirty alleyway, wanted to make her scream as I pumped her full. She wrapped a leg around my back and my hand slipped under her skirt to caress her, stroking the moist folds of flesh that hid her clit. She reached for my zipper, tugged it down and slipped a hand into my pants, wrestling my throbbing cock through the opening and unbuttoning my jeans.

"Comon, lover boy, lets see what you got." Her tongue in my ear, flicking in and out, her breath hot, panting, smelling of alcohol as she guided my cock into her pussy. The feeling of her body heat surrounding my prick filled my senses to bursting as she used her muscles to squeeze and milk my cock with every thrust. I slid my hands underneath her ass, kneading, lifting her higher, both of her legs wrapped around me, spike heels digging into the small of my back as I pounded into her, pinning her against the wall, her breasts bouncing in time with our rhythm, her fingernails digging into my back, her moans ever-louder, echoing in the little alleyway.

"Oh fuck I'm gonna cum fuck me harder slam it into me oh my god…"

She was screaming, stiffening against me as wave after wave of orgasm ripped through her body, crushing me to her as if she would never let go. Finally she began to relax, shuddering in the aftermath as I continued to ram into her.

"Cum for me baby, I want to feel you shoot inside me. I want to feel your cum running down my legs."

I stopped in mid thrust as the gate to the alleyway banged open. Angela looked; breathing hard, still impaled on my cock as the guy walked into the alley. Was he a cop?

"Just what the fuck's the idea, bitch?" He was talking to Angela as if I weren't even there. I slid out of her, my cock glistening in the dim, flickering light. Angela pulled her skirt back down and began to rearrange her tube top as I stuffed my hard-on back into my jeans.

"What the fuck is it to you?" I was frustrated and pissed, working up to a massive case of blue balls. The guy walked over and looked up at me, his lips drawing thin. I asked him in a not too friendly way if he owned the place.

He caught me totally off guard. Something hit me in the gut and I doubled over, the wind knocked out of me. My head exploded in a white light and I fell to the ground, the world ringing A-sharp. When I came to he had Angela on her knees over the garbage can; her skirt hiked up over her hips, the guy poised to ram her from behind, his hand in her hair, twisting. The little crack-whore was standing behind him, watching with snotty smirk spread across her sunken face.

"This is my territory bitch, and you work for me now, understand?" Angela cried out in response, tears streaming down her face, making the dark bruise on her cheekbone shine. A thin line of blood ran from a swollen lower lip, dripping into the garbage. I struggled to my feet, the alleyway reeling. The pimp looked in my direction, his cock brushing against my wife's ass, sliding up and down between her cheeks.

"Stay down big guy, or just get the fuck out of here while you can. This cunt needs to learn a lesson."

My vision started to clear, adrenaline washing away the pain in my skull.

"I don't hardly fucking think so," I said, spitting blood onto the ground.

He pulled away, tucking his hard-on into his pants. I waited.

"You're a fuckin dead man." He advanced slowly, crab-like, eyes bulging, a butterfly knife springing into his right hand. He looked like a sad excuse for an extra from West Side Story, except that the crotch of his pants was slung way too low. The crack whore grinned like an idiot. I waited.

"Common pussy-boy, come and get some."

The knife flashed into his left hand, a sweeping backhanded arc. I took a small step back and let him cut air, then circle-stepped forward, blocking his return with my right forearm, catching his wrist and driving the palm of my left hand into his jawbone as if I were trying to break stone. He screamed around his shattered jaw, reeling, sinking to his knees. I twisted his wrist and held it, kept him from falling as the knife hit the ground with a clatter. He looked up at me in disbelief as I finished it. A kick that crushed his windpipe. I released him and he fell, to spend his last moments on earth thrashing like a fish out of water, suffocating in the dirt.

The crack whore wasn't grinning any more. Not a fuckin trace of mirth to be found. Her eyes flicked this way and that, at the door, at the gate, at me, at her shoes. She would have done better to watch Angela.

"Cunt!" cried my lovely bride. Crack Whore turned her head just in time to avoid getting it caved in by the brick in Angela's hands. It glanced off of her face just below the left eye, tearing a gash and sending the miserable wretch to her knees, screaming and holding her mangled face. Angela raised the brick over her head like an angry Goddess.

"Angela, don't!"

She looked at me, eyes smoldering, statuesque, the flickering light playing over her like fire. In that instant, Michelangelo himself would have found inspiration.

"Fuckin bitch called her pimp on us, the greedy little whore."

"Let her go. We need to get the fuck out of here, K?"

The brick fell to the ground. "You little fuck!" Eye to eye with the wreck kneeling before her, fingers locked in a tattered denim jacket. Then looking at me, "You're such a Boy Scout!" Angela's fist striking jawbone, an unconscious body thudding to the ground.

"Lets just get the fuck out of here before the cops show up."

Hand in hand we ran through the gate and found our way back to my truck. I opened the passenger door for Angela then got behind the wheel.

"Where's your car?"

"No car, I took a cab. I figured on leaving together."

She slid across the bench seat, pressed her body against mine. I started the engine and began to thread my way through the narrow streets toward the expressway.

"How's your head?"

"I'll live."

"I owe you an apology."

"For what," I asked, turning to look into her eyes.

"For every time I've teased you about going to karate practice."

We drove on in silence, still shaken from our encounter yet strangely turned on, the excitement turning slowly sexual. I swung the truck onto the expressway as she put her hand on my thigh, rubbing just below the bulge that was fast growing between my legs.

"Someone didn't get a chance to finish," she said with a sly smile, tugging my zipper down and undoing my jeans. I managed to keep my eyes on the road as she freed my cock, bending to take it into her mouth, tongue swirling around the tip, her head bobbing up and down. I slid my free arm around her, pulling the tube top back down to allow my hand to knead her breast, her nipple hardening to my touch. She tugged my jeans to mid thigh and cupped my balls, messaging gently. It was becoming difficult to stay on the road.

I pulled over into an unlit rest area that sported a 'scenic overlook' sign, parked at the far end where long shadows dripped from the trees, creating pools of warm darkness. I ran my hands through her dark tresses, easing her mouth off of my turgid manhood.

"What say we enjoy the outdoors?"

Without a word we quit the vehicle, walked around the front to share an embrace. She slid my jeans down and I kicked them off, the lights of cars on the expressway like passing phantoms in the distance. A warm breeze stirred her hair, making it dance like wisps of smoke. My hands tugged her skirt, the material stretching, sliding to her ankles. Her legs gripping my neck as I picked her up and set her on the hood of the truck. I tasted her, gently flicking my tongue across the sweet folds of flesh between her legs, teasing her clit, bathing in her sweet scent.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked. I mumbled my assent, the nodding of my head causing her back to arch as I pushed my tongue inside her.

"I was afraid that guy was going to rape me, and worse, but…" I covered her with my mouth, gently sucking, flicking my tongue. Her legs cradled my head, ankles still trapped in her skirt, feet pointing at the night sky where the full moon hung like a pale spotlight.

"But after, after everything that happened, I got wet as hell, wanting you." I nodded again, my cock growing every time she spoke. I slipped two fingers inside her, crooked them upward to stroke the front wall of her vagina, the pressure causing a small swelling there. Angela arched back further yet, her head denting the hood of the truck, making that deep guttural sound that confirmed I had hit the spot. Her hands gripped the front of the truck like beautiful, red-taloned claws.

"Oh Fuck yeah," she repeated, over and over. She was up on her hands now, feet tied around my neck, grinding her clit into me as I kept up the pressure on her G-spot. Her screams grew louder, her body consumed by wave after wave of uncontrollable pleasure as she exploded, drenching me; her juices ran over the hood of the truck, her body shaking, convulsing, shuddering in time with her orgasms. Finally she collapsed onto the hood, trying to catch her breath.

I had waited long enough. My balls were tight, full almost to the point of pain. With my feet perched on the bumper I wrapped my arms around her thighs, slid inside her in one smooth motion then stopped, motionless, savoring the feel of her.

"Fuck me, " she said, looking into my eyes, her gaze like two pools of blackest night, beckoning me to fall in. "Just fuck me."

I pulled out until only the tip remained, cradled by her moistened flesh, then pushed back so that my balls slapped against her, over and over, both of us groaning in time to my thrusts. It wasn't long before I burst, filling her with endless streams that seemed like they would go on forever. It was at that moment that I saw the flashing lights.

We were arrested that night and charged with the 'beating death' of the scumbag in the alley, supported by the lying testimony of the junkie hooker who couldn't mind her own business and was really the cause of it all. In hindsight, I shouldn't have stopped my wife from knocking the bitch's head in. And self defense? Don't make me laugh. The fact that Angela and I were making love in public seemed to nullify, at least in the feeble minds of the all-Suburbanite jury, that fact that Angela was attacked with intent to rape. The final straw was my self-defense skill; the prosecution called it "disparity of force." Evidently gaining an ability to protect one's self makes it illegal to do so. In this day and age it's considered the better part of "civility" to watch a crime and do nothing rather than step in and stop it. So much for the rights of the victim.

Anyway, I'm out of time so I'll stop ranting. It's doubtful that I'll post here again. I'm serving twenty years to life for this bullshit and won't be eligible for parole until 2012. That is if I'm not forced to defend myself again. Doing pretty good so far though, I manage to keep a low profile and my cellmate learned quickly that I'm not an easy target.

Be well all, and be careful.

Dareevil