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Home for Thanksgiving |
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By Margo Perry
Their dance is pure sex, their music primitive and heard only by them. What I hear are sighs, groans and crude slappings of flesh against flesh. His heavy balls bounce against her shapely thighs. Her laugh is lewd.
She’s on all fours. Her pendulous breasts sweep the hardwood floor. He's taking her from behind, riding her, reining in her ultra-long blonde mane with a tight fist. His thick, rogue-long cock excels in his victory over her. He pumps, strokes, circles and then grabs her around the belly as they approach the finishing line. I think I can smell them as she reaches for her clit.
Her submission is complete and active. She curves her back, raising her tight buttocks high, welcoming each thrust before backing into him with relentless passion. They make love in perfect time and then fuck with reckless abandon.
They soon cross the line and collapse onto each other in one heaving, panting, sweaty mass. I crouch on the stairway, alone in the loser’s circle. I’ve witnessed a perfectly run race of terrible, terrifying beauty and it has broken me. I try not to sob as I escape.
“Sassy! Wait!”
Thom’s voice is irritated, no doubt from his prolonged orgasmic yowls that still echo in my head.
Honey’s pot is full of his life, spewed into her as it was ejaculated into you, less than twenty-four hours ago.
The memory assaults me, insults me, but I force my way forward on trembling legs. Reaching the back door, I dare not stop. I tear a raincoat from a wall hook, slip into it and grab the pumps I’d kicked off the night before. I flee. I don’t take the time to shut the door or put on my shoes. I’m a madwoman in pieces and it’ll take time to discover if there’s anything left of me worth saving.
I hate you, Thom!
I hurtle down the steep, narrow incline. Overhanging branches smack my face and my feet sink into dank, slimy dirt. A light rain begins to fall - even nature is pissing on me - and I measure the short distance to the main road through bitter, panicky tears. I clutch Thom’s oversized yellow slicker closer around me. Underneath, I’m naked except for the leopard-skin bra and panty set meant to seduce Thom. I can smell my perfume, mixed with the scent of my own still hungry sex, and the combination mocks me. My jouncing tits, bursting out of their cups as I run, mock me. But my total surrender to Thom yesterday mocks me most of all.
I wish I could get rid of the picture: Me lying on the hood of Thom’s car, legs spread, begging for his cock. Squirming and mewling as he rams into me. On a split screen, Honey strokes her pussy, drives them both to madness as he rams into her. That picture burns a hole in my head, scorches through my body and annihilates all rational thought.
You’ll both pay!
The tears have stopped and an icy calm has settled over me. I can think. Fact: The sexy and liberated Honey Morgan has been fucking Thom and fucking up our relationship since High School. Fact: This morning, she did it again and I witnessed his full and glorious participation. Fact: That leaves me alone, cramming my filthy, wet abused feet into pumps that now feel too small. My mind grabs onto the injustice of it all with claw-like tenacity.
It’s raining harder and Thom’s voice is roaring closer. I jump over a puddle and lurch onto the main road, causing a large black limo to screech to a halt not eight feet in front of me. I stare back at it, stunned, as a uniformed driver, umbrella in hand, jumps out and opens the door.
“Governor Morgan would like to offer you a ride.”
No way. Honey Morgan’s father?!
Thom will soon reach me. I’m caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. I remind myself that I love deep water swimming and climb into the car.
“What a delight to see you, my dear.” The governor puts down his cigar, reaches up and takes my hand. His skin is warm, electric against mine. “Honey told me that you were on her flight yesterday. Imagine my surprise, finding you in the middle of the road. You looked every bit the mysterious heroine. The only thing missing was your camera crew.”
His blue eyes are amused, his tone mocking. I’d forgotten how Richard Gere gorgeous the man is. I recall Honey’s thirteenth birthday party, all the girls giggling whenever he was around. I remember later, home in bed, playing with my pussy and dreaming about Rex Morgan and escapades I had yet to experience.
“Thanks for stopping, Sir.”
“My pleasure.”
He looks at me like a nobleman might regard a street urchin. I feel humiliated. Thom’s bright-yellow thick rubber coat is twenty sizes too big, has no viable fastenings, and is dripping water onto the governor’s plush carpet. I eye the black leather seats. They’re fashioned like the ones in my apartment and I know how much they cost. I’m relieved when the driver passes back a stack of towels which the governor rests on the seat.
“Let me help you, Sassy.” He stands beside me, offering to take my coat. I’m trapped.
“I can’t take it off,” I stare down at my filthy shoes and feet, feeling more sixteen than thirty-six. I want to disappear.
“How can I help you, Sassy?”
His gaze strips me naked and his deep, beneficent tone stirs me. I want to tell him the truth, but I’m not ready to disclose his precious daughter’s part in my pitiful plight. I’m afraid that he’ll support Honey and I’m desperate that, if and when I tell him, he be on my side.
I need control, over myself and this situation. The governor has resumed his seat and is running his palm in circles over his strong, lean thigh. It’s a sensuous movement and I’m more drawn to him now than I ever was. Thom used to hate it when I told him how much the Governor turned me on, turned all the girls on. He’d sulk with adolescent doubt and jealousy. Yes, Rex Morgan is the last man on earth that Honey or Thom would want me even talking to.
You need a script!
An actor is only as good as the choices he makes and my first choice is to see myself as my director imagined me in my first film: intelligent, explosively sexual and emotionally fluid; ready to solve any crime and seduce any man. I hope that Rex has seen Sassy, Female Detective, seen on the big screen just how seductive I can be. I adore Rex Morgan. I will seduce Rex Morgan. Fucking Rex Morgan will be my revenge.
I take a big breath, thrust my chest forward, and center myself. I’m ready to begin the scene.
“I’m a mess. I need to get to my parents, but . . . not like this”
I glance down at myself coyly. Water dribbles from my near bald head, trickles over the gaping rubber slicker and onto my exposed cleavage. Rex inventories my body and captures my gaze. His eyes glint with sexual interest. Mine are doleful, lingering, and my smile quivers. Nibbling my lower lip, I slowly blink and one single tear escapes.
“Come now,” Rex says, patting the seat beside him. “Things can’t be that bad.”
I dry myself as best I can, spread towels and sit, allowing the raincoat to fall open, just a little. I twist to face him, cradling my breasts high in my arms. My chin flirts with my cleavage.
“Honey … I just left her.
She and Thom . . .”
I paint a picture of Thom and myself in pastels: Meeting at the airport, an uneventful ride home and later, a catch-up and innocent sleepover. I’ve edited out yesterday’s raunchy excesses. My leading man doesn’t need a woman who has been so recently devoured and devouring. In our drama, I am a woman denied, a woman left wanting.
Pats have become caresses and our legs are tangled together. My knee accidently connects with his engorged cock and I confess that it’s been a long time, that I need physical love, that I was about to reach out to Thom, when I discovered them.
I paint Thom and Honey in vibrant purples and reds. Pain, like bile rising, makes it difficult for me to speak. I can feel Rex recoiling and I need to be sure that it’s not from me. I pull away so that he’ll see my vulnerability. My full lips tremble and my breast heaves. He takes my face in his hands and kisses away the tears on my cheeks and neck. I want more. My tongue teases my parted lips, inviting him in, and Rex grabs me, squeezes the breath out of me. My tits feel spongy against his hard muscled chest and too big for the space they’re confined in. He traps my head in one hand and I can feel his heightened breathing in my ear. I’m captured and shivery with sexual pleasure.
“What do you want from me?” His whisper is too close to my ear and thick with damp heat.
“I don’t know.”
I feel a serpent tongue snake inside my lobe. My nipples, my pussy, my skin all itch for the touch of the snake. He is driving me crazy. He has eased his hand under my coat. It climbs dangerously close to my pussy and stops. I want him to touch me so bad that liquid dribbles out of me.
“I’ll show you what you want.” He is frightening me. He’s taken over the scene and me. His full wet lips are inches from mine, my nipples are on fire, and the blaze has reached my pussy. I want his hand to move upward, to caress my pussy lips, and my juices gush onto his lazy, unmoving fingers. “You want me to introduce you to real pleasure, the kind that robs you of your will. But, you’ll never get what you want until you have the courage to ask for it.”
He withdraws from me, body and soul. I feel chided and alone, but not for long. He reaches out and touches my cheek with the back of his hand, the way a father might caress his newborn. The tender pleasure that I feel makes me want to cry. I intuitively understand that my pleasure has folded into his and that I will eventually do anything he asks. I wonder vaguely how I’ll get to that place and am frightened and humiliated by my own cravings. I am also fully aroused.
“Where to, Gov?”
“To the mansion, Pete. Ms. Rose has had an accident and needs to clean up before we take her home.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think it’s time you called me Rex. I was sorry to hear about your father. I just dropped off some of the boys after our annual all night poker fest. We missed your dad and his music, very much.”
“Thanks, Sir. I’m sure he missed it, too. ”
I don’t want to think of my father. Not yet. Soon he and his illness will be all I know.
Rex pats my hand absently and stares out of the window. My pussy is throbbing with horniness and my leading man acts as though I’m not even here. A gentle whirring signals a darkly tinted glass partition rising slowly to separate carriage from driver.
I’m exhausted and relax against soft leather. I’m a wounded yellow bird with leopard markings. I look out of my window, manoeuvre further away from Rex, affording him space that I hope and pray he’ll soon invade.
We’re beginning the long curving drive up to the mansion. Towering pines and manicured lawns stretch as far as the eye can see. When the car eases to a stop, I gather my coat modestly around me, before Pete opens the door.
“Thanks Pete. I’ll call you when we’re ready.”
“Fine, Sir.”
Rex’s arm around me is reassuring as he guides me up the steps, across the marble tiles and into the house. I remember the high ceilings, exposed cedar beams, cathedral windows and balconies. I also recall Honey’s ostracizing me, laughing at my oversized breasts, making me work much too hard for acceptance into her high school clique. Hopefully, I’ll move into Rex’s heart and hearth before she even notices.
“Did I mention that I’m invited to your house for dinner? I think your Mom’s going all out this year. I’ve sent my staff up to give her a hand.”
“Thanksgiving dinner is always a big deal. Dad will love all the company,” I say.
If the governor’s invited, Honey is invited. Thom and Doc … the whole gang will be there. Dad will love it and I tell myself that that’s all that matters.
“Come,” Rex says, “let’s get you cleaned up.”
He leads me up the circular staircase and I match my steps to his. He looks straight ahead, his focus inward. I’m impressed by his animal grace. I avoid looking at him, invading his privacy. I must wait for his attention. He leads me through a suite of large rooms: his masculine and well-ordered bedroom, through a large walk-in closet and past that, to another large airy bedroom.
“I’m not a boy. Not Thom,” he says, suddenly turning into me. There’s a twitch in his jaw and his cloudy, intense eyes pin me to the spot, demanding a response. I shrug my shoulders and the raincoat drops to the floor. “Now, tell me what you want from me,” he hisses.
“I want to be yours,” I whisper.
“You’ll find everything you need,” he says, gesturing toward the bathroom, before turning on his heel and walking back toward his bedroom.
I feel an excitement that I’ve never felt before. I hear a door slam and I feel cut off from something invaluable like oxygen. I need to breathe him again. Thom and Honey are forgotten. I’ve never wanted a man the way I want Rex. I want him to overwhelm me and I’m not sure what I mean by that. I rush into the shower. My script is writing itself. I’m in awe and deliciously afraid.
The water massages my skin, cleansing and invigorating me. I hold my breasts up to the spray and my nipples grow long, hard and sensitive. I’m horny, but I want to stay that way. My shower takes longer than intended because I want it to. I pretend that I’m directing my play again.
I dry myself vigorously and find the damp bra and panty that I’d tossed, folded on the bed. The bra is warm to my cheek and smells lemony fresh instead of reeking of sweat and rubber as it did when I took it off. I can’t imagine how he’s managed this miracle in so short a time, but my attention is soon drawn to a note tucked under my panty: Put these on and come to me.
The simplicity of his demand incinerates my delusion of self as dominant. There I’ve said it. For the first time in my life I want to please, to pleasure, to obey. A petit bottle of Joy is perched on the note and I dab a hint behind my ears and along the line of my cleavage. It’s his choice of scent for me and I now feel branded. My pumps have disappeared so I dress, put my hanging earrings back in my ears, and pad barefoot across the room through the closet. I knock on the closed door of his bedroom. My heart is racing and I feel like I’m waiting in the wings to open the biggest show of my life.
“Come in.”
I’m full of anticipation and terror. I don’t know myself. I don’t know who I’ll become once I walk through that door. I caress the doorknob before twisting it. My hand is lotion-soft and trembling.
He is sitting in an overly large, rich-chocolate coloured leather armchair, smoking a cigar. He blows rings playfully, as if he hasn’t noticed me. His white terry cloth robe gives rise to a long thick cock which he absently fondles through thick cotton. I blush with embarrassment and a fire glows all over my skin.
“Take a few moments,” he instructs, “then I want to see the scene where Sassy strips. Only, instead of going to the bed to lie down, come to me.”
He’s seen my movie and I’m pleased. His cock is so beautiful. I want it inside me, but I dare not make a move. He’s auditioning me and I want this role above all others. I turn my back to him and take a chameleon’s breath before turning around.
“I’m so horny!” My voice is a hoarse whisper. I reach inside my sling of a bra and use both hands to pull out my massive tit. I look at Rex before I take my own nipple in my mouth and begin to suck, lick and bite it. I moan with the pleasure I’m giving myself. I release that breast and it drapes outside my bra, down past my waist. I mine for the other one.
“Enough! Strip and come here!”
Rex has cut the scene short. I’m naked and standing before him in record time. He puts down his cigar and places me: one foot on the arm of his chair, the other straddling him.
“Listen carefully because I’ll only say this once. I want no more bullshit from you.”
His voice chills me, but his hand is roaming all over my belly. It moves down to my mound, presses against my labia, and then fingers my clit. I try to speak, but he blows heat onto my pussy and it starts an explosion. I’m on fire and his cock is so hard, so close.
“I know you fucked Thom yesterday. I can smell a woman in heat. That’s why you’re so pissed at Honey. She dipped into your sloppy seconds, stupid girl. But she’s my daughter and I’ll handle her later. Now, I must handle you. “I want to hear the truth, every dirty sexual detail of what you did with Thom. And curtail your excitement. I’m interested in the facts. Not in how much you enjoyed them!”
Rex opens me up, slides his fingers over my inner labia and the pleasure rockets through me, lifting me onto my toes. He laughs, not with me, but at me, and I’m humiliated as more of my seeping liquid bathes his fingers.
“You’re so delightfully wet,” Rex says, holding up his glistening fingers for me to see. He strokes his cock, using my pussy juice as lubrication, pleasuring himself without inhibition. I blush purple with embarrassment and my legs quake with horniness. “Now talk!”
I remember an acting exercise where emotions are divorced from expression. I affect a monotone and begin to recite.
“We were talking about my dad’s cancer …”
“Keep to the subject and leave your dad out of this!”
“We were in his car. I trapped him with my scarf and started kissing him . . .”
I blather on with the sordid details of my Thom fuck – that’s the way I’m thinking of it now. I try to keep excitement out of my voice, but Rex’s fingers are inside my pussy and they’re fucking me with a rhythm that takes my breath away. My knees buckle and Rex laughs again.
“He was teasing my clit and he had both nipples in his mouth.”
“I warned you about keeping your excitement to yourself.”
“I can’t help it. It’s what you’re doing to me.” I sound desperate.
Rex moves my leg off his chair, and gets up. I’m terrified that I’ve displeased him, that I’m dismissed. He prowls around the room and I wait.
“What do you want from me?” His voice thunders from across the room.
“I want you to make love to me.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” he sneers. “Making love is a vanilla flavoured sweet that you eat when you’re tired of all the other flavours. You need more or you wouldn’t be here. You want to be owned. Handled!”
I know it’s the truth as soon as he speaks it. “Yes,” I whisper.
“Then ask for what you want or get out. Run away and play with Honey and Thom, but don’t waste my time.”
“I want to be your slave. I want you to own me.”
“That’s better. Lie down on the bed.” He is smiling and I bask in the warmth. “Look at me, Sassy, and play with your cunt.”
Cunt! The word shocks me, rips away a layer of emotional skin. I spread my legs and use my fingers to squeeze my clit inside my pussy lips. Rex has joined me on the bed and rolls onto his side until his fully erect cock splays over my thigh. I’m insane with hunger. He twists my nipple until it hurts, driving me closer to the edge. Rex’s eyes bore into mine. He sucks my other nipple and it’s too much.
“I’m coming …”
“Not yet.” He stops all action and I’m left hanging over the orgasmic precipice. “Now, beg.”
“Please take me. Please.” Tears stream down my cheeks.
Rex grabs me and manipulates me onto all fours. The bedspread welcomes my pendulous breasts, teases my nipples as he rams into me, again and again. I whimper my gratitude.
He grabs lubricant from his bedside table and milks my teat with one hand, while spreading gel over his cock with the other.
“Your sweet virgin ass is mine,” he says. A domineering cruelty colours his every word, but I don’t mind. I want him to cause me pain. I want him to mark me.
“Fuck my ass. Make it yours.”
“I will and I won’t ever need your permission, Little Sub.”
I’m honoured by his words and wait for the pain, for the pleasure. He takes his time and I drip with anticipation. He plunges into me and I scream. The pain comes like jagged shards injected from a splintering chandelier. He thrusts again and pleasure follows the pain, before a kind of rapture takes over and I feel all cunt, all ass, all cock and balls. I slam into him, again and again. I don’t know where I end and he begins. I feel myself dissolving into liquid pleasure, threatening to become one with the orgasmic wave that is overtaking me.
“Touch your pussy. Now! No more talk!”
I smell our passion as I reach for my clit. Rex has taken over the script. He pumps, strokes, circles and then grabs me around my belly as we approach the finishing line. My submission is complete. I curve my back, raise my tight buttocks high, welcoming each thrust before backing into him with relentless passion. I am helpless. I exist because of his cock thrusting into my captivated ass.
We make love in perfect time and then fuck with reckless abandon, crossing the line and collapsing onto the bed and each other in one heaving, panting mass. I’m his and he has placed me in the winner’s circle. I’ve run a perfect race of terrible, terrifying beauty and it has re-invented me. I sob with blessed release.
Pete is driving us home. I’m wearing a lovely green sundress that Rex bought for Honey in New York, but had yet to give her. It fits me perfectly.
He tilts his head to the side and pulls on his earlobe. “During dinner, whenever you see me do this, I want you to play with your pussy until your fingers are wet. You’ll see. It won’t take long.”
I nod toward Pete. The partition is open and he isn’t missing a thing. Rex laughs.
“Now, give me your panties,” he whispers. I wiggle out of them, as discreetly as I can and pass them over to Rex. He presses them against his face before pocketing them. “Deliciously wet,” he says.
He tilts his head to the side and pulls on his lobe. “Now practise.”
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