Sick Puppy

"Come over," she said. When her number had come up on my phone it was the exact thing I was afraid of.

"I can't."

"Sure you can."

"I'm busy today."

"So?" That was her attitude.

I didn't respond.

"Riley is at my mother's. I have to pick him up at three," she said, explaining the timeframe. The rest was all assumed.

"Okay." I said.

I rang her doorbell and waited. It wasn't long, less than a minute. I heard the bolt slide open. She opened the door but didn't welcome me in. She was wearing only a pair of pink cotton panties. When I entered she was already walking away. She turned down the hall. I knew the house. She was headed for her bedroom.

I left my jacket on a chair in the living room and undid my shirt as I walked down the hall. I found her in her bed. The sheets and comforters were off the bed, lying on the floor. There were clothes strewn about, both hers and her husbands. Housekeeping was not one of her priorities.

"They hurt today. You like that, don't you."

I didn't. I don't know why she thought that way. One of her favorite phrases was "if its any consolation." She didn't use it correctly. She used it not to soften your troubles but to highlight her own. I tried to make sure I didn't complain. I didn't want to give her a reason to use it. I stripped out of the rest of my clothes. Nude, to my socks, I sat on the end of the bed to remove them. I crawled in beside her. I went to kiss her. She didn't want to be kissed. She had been lying there squeezing her tits. She had small droplets of milk beading up about her nipples. Riley was only six months old. It was stealing.

"Just do it."

To reject her would be condemning her. It wasn't worth the fight. Besides, she knew me. Fuck.

"What?" she asked. I had only intended to think it. I had to be more careful.

"Nothing." I said. I dodged the fight by pressing her immense breast to my mouth. She had always had large breasts, now they were almost obscene. I didn't care. It would have been better for the room to be dark but it was what it was.

She moaned when the flow started. I hated myself and I was particularly angry with my cock for betraying me by growing ever harder with each sip of the thick cream flowing from her tits. She pressed her hand into her panties. We were some sick mother-fuckers. I drank deeply from her.

Her breath came in short bursts. Moans and gasps filled the room. She wasn't coming yet. Her orgasms came with a distinctive sound, but she was enjoying herself. I struggled not to moan myself.

"The other one," she said. I obeyed. It gave off more than the first. The taste was sour in my throat, the milk she put out was warm on my tongue.

"Uuhhhhhhhnnnnnggggh!" she cried out, her hand flapping furiously in her crotch. Fuck, I almost came too.

"Do me, baby. Please." It was odd for her to speak sweetly. It happened only occasionally, typically when I had relieved the pressure in her tits and she was ready to fuck. I wanted to leave but I wasn't going to.

She hadn't shaved yet. We had discussed that she might but clearly hadn't gotten to it. The black curly hairs covered her cunt, creeping down her thighs until they softened and thinned. I had refused to pleasure her orally until she did something about it. She didn't need that yet.

She wanted it from behind and I said no. I wanted to watch her. I liked to see her tits quake in time with my pounding. I also liked to watch her face. The look on her face when getting fucked was similar to the snarl she would get if she slammed her hand in a car door. It made me feel better about the whole thing.

I put her out of my mind and imagined my girlfriend. My girlfriend was the exact opposite of Ramona. Where Ramona was heavy, with large tits, a belly, and short fat legs. My girlfriend was long, lean, and pretty. It wasn't the baby, Ramona was like that before. I don't know why I liked it so much, I just did. My girlfriend was younger, delicate, attractive and sweet and thinking about her while I fucked kept me from coming. I don't know why - I am fucked up. She was coming. She made that sound again "Uuuhhhhhnnngh!" I chased the image of Ellie out of my mind. Mrs. Reed had that look on her face, the one that suggested I was hurting her. I pounded my cum into her and watched her tits bounce. I don't understand the orgasm. I don't want the orgasm. It doesn't feel good enough to be worth ending the whole thing. I fucked her as long as I could until my dick went soft. Eventually she pushed me out. I was soft, a short fat sausage dipping in cum between her legs.

"Are you going to clean me up?" she asked.

Fuck, I wanted to, but the hair, the matted sticky hair that stuck to her thighs. No thank you. "I've got to go."

"Asshole." She didn't always call me an asshole after sex. Sometimes she called me a dick, or a bitch. It was her way. "I told David about you."

"Bullshit."

"I did. He wants to fuck, I told him no."

"Why? You should." I like Mr. Reed. I felt bad for him.

"I told him I couldn't because you had already fucked me too hard and it hurt. It's still sensitive."

"Jesus," I muttered and felt bad about it instantly.

"I should tell Ellie. She should know what a sick little fucker you are."

I turned as if to engage. She was sitting up on the bed, her large tits hanging almost to her lap. I let it go. There was no point.

"Fuck you!" she called out just before I pulled the door closed. There is really something wrong with me.

Ellie is too young, too pretty, and too sweet. I don't necessarily want or deserve a girl like her but she wont leave and it is nice to have someone around. I was back to the house in time to make dinner. The Reeds live just next door. I made fish and rice. It was nothing fancy. It was what was defrosted. She fawned over it as though I was a celebrity chef. I had to work that night. I should have gone to work earlier but I had gotten distracted. We ate and then she begged me to join her in bed.

"I hate it when you get home after I'm asleep. I am serious. You can wake me up if you want." She wasn't just saying that. She honestly wanted me to wake her up when I closed down the bar at Two AM and got home at Three.

"You look too peaceful."

"Then come to bed with me now." She was begging.

"It's hard for me to get in the mood for a quicky." I wasn't making that up. Since I had turned forty it actually was harder for me to get up and going, especially if I had already fucked mid-day.

"I can make it hard for you," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I'll just wake you up when I get home."

"No you wont." She pulled my hand until I relented and followed her to our bedroom.

She was twenty-two when we met. She wanted a job as a server. I hired her. She was sweet and worked hard. I left her alone. Like I said, she was too pretty. She wouldn't be interested in a dirty old bastard like me. It took almost a year for something to happen. She had been flirty. My late night bartender said she had daddy issues. She was persistent and I am lazy. It eventually happened on the couch I keep in the office. I started seeing her because I was too chicken to break-up with her. It's been six years now and rather than get sick of me, quit her job, and move on to bigger and better things she has set up house with me.

'Lie down, Daddy." She told me. She doesn't use her normal voice; she uses another one she has created because she knows what it does for me. She growled it. "I didn't shower this morning." She made a show of undoing her jeans. "And I went to spin class," she said. My filthy cock began to come alive. It wasn't back yet but it was getting there. "The other way," she instructed and I moved me head from propped on the pillows to the foot of the bed. Ellie has long legs. She positioned them at my ears and pressed herself down until my mouth was engulfed with the smell and taste of her. "Eat it, Daddy. Eat it good," she growled.

I have an oral fixation. My ex-wife appreciated it at first but grew tired of it. Ellie was still young enough to find it worthwhile. She was right. I liked it. She had not neglected herself the way our neighbor had, her pussy was smooth and would be irritated by the rough hairs of my chin. She didn't care. She took to grinding at my tongue the way she would ride my cock.

The taste of her inspired me. I was growing hard for her. She fucked me more intensely. She growled at me, a deep guttural bark like a German Sheppard or other large beast of a dog. She had developed the growl over the years and it had replaced the silly girlish moans she had made when we first took up with each other. "Get these off."

I did as she asked. Crossways on the bed she resumed her position, her cunt pressed onto my face, except now she took my dick in her mouth. She was so timid about my dick in her mouth at the start. I never understood if she was afraid she was going to hurt it or if she was just intimidated by it. She had gotten better but still required assistance. I wrapped her hair in my hand and pressed her mouth down onto my cock, pushing my hips up off the bed.

I was sure the first time I did that she would leave me. It was more or less my intent. I was too old to muster up the patience for a young lover. She responded by trying harder the next time. It had slowly developed until our go to move became her trying to suffocate me with her cunt while I did my best to ram my shaft into her throat.

She still gagged when I came but had learned that it didn't mean she couldn't still get off, in fact I think she came harder the rougher I fucked her mouth. When she finally came and rolled off my face she continued tugging at my cock. "You have anything left for me, Daddy?" again, with the deep menacing growl. She didn't wait for an answer; she spun and mounted me. She still had on her sweater and I missed getting to watch her small delicate nipples bounce when she rode me.

"You can still wake me up later," she said as I re-dressed to go into the restaurant. She had her girlish voice back again.

"I promise."

"You lie."

It was a quiet night at the Bar. I opened my bar as a tiki/beach bar sort of place. I even had a sand volleyball court until someone got hurt and the insurance company made me lay pavers and cover it in tables. The net was still there though. I had to pay out the cook for the night to get him to go home but there was no point to keeping him around. It was too boring. Even with him gone I only had to make two burgers and an order of nachos. I closed the kitchen at midnight and was prepared to send the bartender home but I had a few regulars, bar flies really, and I let Mike serve them till one. I was half asleep on the couch in the office when he came back.

"Guy wants to see you."

"Tell him the owner will be around tomorrow." I had no desire to talk to some band promoter about how many more people would be there if I had live music.

"Nope, asked for you by name."

Mr. Reed was sitting at the bar. He had a bourbon on the rocks and seemed to like watching the ice cubes swim around in circles inside of it.

"Ryan." He said when I appeared.

"Bob." I preferred to call him Mr. Reed. It was how they had introduced themselves when I bought the house. Mr. and Mrs. Reed. I had struggled to call them Bob and Ramona ever since.

"Do you have a minute?" he asked.

"I was just closing out the books."

"She told me," he said. He wasn't mad. He was a big guy. He was younger than me. He was a whole hell of a lot stronger than me. I suspected he was armed.

"She told you what?" I asked. I wasn't playing dumb. I was tired.

"You've been fucking my wife more than I am," he said. He was sad as shit. I made myself a rum and coke. I would call a cab. They didn't charge me.

He asked a lot of stupid questions most of them hinting at the fact he couldn't understand it. My girlfriend was young, delightful, sweet, and pretty. The phrase he used to describe Ramona was "she can be a challenge," and I let him.

"I'm really sorry," I admitted.

"Are you going to stop now?"

"I don't think she'll let me." It was a stupid fucking thing to say but it was accurate.

"No... No, she probably won't"

We were quiet, drinking our drinks. There was soccer on the two Televisions overhead. It must not have been a good match or there would have been a smattering of English fuckers sitting around drinking beer and gin.

"We should go." I said, after finishing my second cocktail. He was on his fourth.

"It's not fair."

"Not really."

"You wanna bang Ellie?" I asked him. Okay, I might have had a couple of drinks earlier on top of the two I had just finished off.

"Ha," was his only reply.

"Come on, lets get out of here." I told Mike we were leaving and we took a cab home. There was always one in the lot after One O'clock.

The cab stopped between our two houses and Bob headed for his own door.

"You sure?"

"Sure about what?"

"Ellie? You don't think it would be a fair trade?"

"You are fucked up," he told me. He was pretty much dead on the money. I don't know what I was thinking really. I did feel bad for the guy. I liked Mr. Reed. I shouldn't have fucked his wife. I more or less thought I was over trying to send Ellie on her way but that was probably part of it. Mostly though, I just think I don't give a shit.

"She likes you. She's mentioned it before," I lied.

"Really?" He was leaning to the left and had to take a step to the side to keep from falling over. It meant we had moved around in a half circle.

"Up to you."

He stood there looking at his own house. I imagine he was thinking about the bitch wife and young son snoozing away inside. I could imagine his thinking. He was trying to decide if it was betrayal or revenge. I'm not sure what line of thought brought him to conclude it was okay but that was what he said. "I guess, considering, it's okay."

I unlocked the door and showed him to the bedroom. She was asleep on top of the covers; she thought I kept the house too hot. She was in a small pink Teddy. I can remember when I bought it for her. She had said she shouldn't wear pink - it didn't look good against her pale skin. I told her she looked spectacular. Bob seemed to agree.

I didn't close the door but just slipped back to the living room. I turned on the TV but when I heard talking I put it on mute so that I could hear. It wasn't talking, it was grunting and moaning and sighing. She made the sounds she had made at the start. I heard the mattress squeak and then a slow thumping I thought was the sound the bed made when she was on top and reached up to grip the headboard. I hadn't really thought about her enjoying herself. I wondered if I should check on her. I decided against it.

"Good night, Ryan," Bob called to me as he left. I heard the front door close and then all was quiet for a minute but only for a minute.

I heard the toilet and then the shuffling sound of her bare feet on the wood floors.

"What the fuck, Ryan?"

"I'm sorry," I said yet again. It was becoming a theme.

"Bullshit!" she called me out. She was still naked. There were red marks on her thighs and wrists. She had the distinctive look of a woman who had just been fucked and fucked hard. "You have never been sorry for a thing in your whole Goddamned life."

"I'm sorry that you are upset."

"Are you? Are you really sorry? I don't think pimps are usually sorry for their whores."

"You aren't my whore." I tried a consoling tone.

"Yes I am. You traded me. You traded me for her? Is that all I'm worth. You'd really rather have that than this." Her stance was more Wonder Woman than jilted lover and yet again I was offended by my own arousal. I wanted her.

"Of course not."

"Clearly you did." I couldn't ever remember her actually being mad at me.

"That's not it at all."

"Then what was it? Explain."

"I can't." It was probably the most truthful I had been all day.

"Then explain whoring me out to your friend. Is he even your friend? Did you care? Did you just want someone else to fuck me?"

"I don't know. It just seemed fair."

"Fair, fuck fair. You sent him in there to rape me."

"Yeah!" It was a dirty trick to try to make the argument that she had wronged me but I wasn't really thinking clearly and I was grasping at straws. "What about that? It didn't sound like there was a lot of raping going on. I didn't hear you fighting him off."

"So you just sat here and listened? What? You didn't want to watch?"

"I didn't think about it."

"You didn't think about what?"

"Watching. I didn't think about it. Would it have been better if I had?" I don't know how it was possible but her anger seemed to be subsiding. I didn't feel like I was out of the woods yet but I could see daylight.

"You're sick." She said. She had turned and wasn't looking at me anymore.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that." I thought I heard tears. Can you hear tears? That sounds stupid but it is accurate. I heard tears. "Why didn't you just ask?"

"Ask? I guess I could have. I mean, I guess I should have."

"Have I never not done what you asked?" She turned to look at me again and she shouldn't have because all she did was highlight how beautiful she was, even with her hair messed, her eyes teared up and her hands shaking. Her vulnerability was suddenly an aphrodisiac. "Have I? Ever? You want to fuck my ass? Sure. You want me to fuck your ass? Sure? What else? Jacking off on me? Do I ever tell you no?"

I'd never thought of it. She didn't say no. She did what I asked. She was trembling. Because I had asked she had fucked Mr. Reed from next door. She had probably fucked his brains out. I went to her.

"No." she said when I put my hands on the bare flesh of her upper arms. When I kissed her she pushed me away and said it again. "No." I forced my lips to hers. "No!" she said more emphatically. I kissed her harder and my hand gripped her tiny ass cheek. I could take almost her whole ass in the palm of a single hand. "No, Goddamnit!" she said, pushing my hand away. I would not be rebuked now. I moved my hand to her breast and took it firmly, her nipple pinched firmly between my hand and thumb. "No!" she said again through clenched teeth. "Is that what it takes, motherfucker. Do you have to be told no?"

I don't think I lifted her as much as I just pushed her, her naked body seemed to fly across the room with the force until she hit the couch hard, her arms and legs splaying out around her.

"No! asshole! We are done!" I undid my belt. I dropped the black trousers to my feet where they were stopped from coming off by the heft of the boots I had worn to work. My black T-shirt came free easily and I tossed it aside. I more fell then stepped to her but I made it to her.

"No, Ryan. Please. No!" I kissed her again. She didn't push me away but returned the kiss the whole time she fought to close her legs. I lifted her ass and pulled it to me.

"No." she said again, more quietly. She was a wet sticky mess when I pressed my cock into her. Crying and pleading for me to stop she pulled me into her and wrapped her legs around me. "No." she said again, her fingers clenched to the back of my head holding my face to her chest.

We fucked far longer than normal, her cunt pre-fucked for me was that much more welcoming. I filled her, far more thoroughly than earlier. When I was finished I carried her to our bed. I'm not a big fan of post-coitus affection I like to be left alone but she insisted on holding me. The sun would be up soon and there was no point to argue any further so I just let her.

Long after I thought she was asleep she spoke to me and I still wonder if she was awake when she said it. "You are a sick puppy, Ryan, but you are my sick puppy and you need to just get used to that." I didn't say shit because she was probably right.