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Fall to Temptation |
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By Dirk Vincento
Chapter 16
“I’m very disappointed in you, Bruce.” His father’s tone was calm and even, filled with just the right amount of middle class restraint. But his eyes were glaring, two raging balls of angry fire. “I’m very disappointed in you, indeed.” “I know you want me to . . . to . . . ” Bruce could sense his father’s disapproval, but he suddenly found himself groping for the reason why. He could feel it right at the tip of his tongue, teasing him, frustrating him, dancing playfully before him, but staying just out of reach. “I know that you want me to . . . ” It was so close, but the thought just wouldn’t come. “I really am disappointed in you,” his father repeated in the same flat tone. “Don’t be hard on him, Vern,” Rachael said. “I think we can convince him that it would be in his best interest to see things our way.” Bruce turned and looked behind him. Rachael was standing there, dressed from head to toe in skin tight leather. Shiny and black, it followed every contour of her body, flowing over the curve of her hips and stretching out over the enormous, erotic swell of her breasts. She looked dangerous and threatening. Bruce could feel a child-like terror welling up inside him. “Well, I give up. I can’t do anything with him,” Bruce heard his father’s voice declare in that same flat even tone. “Don’t worry,” Rachael said. “I think he can be persuaded.” She started to walk toward him, her movements lithe and cat-like. The leather she wore made her look incredibly sleek. Bruce started to feel very sexy. She was standing close to him now, the peaks of her breasts only an inch away from his chest. Her eyes bore into him, making his skin tingle all over his body. She was wearing heavy dark eye liner and her lips were blood-red, standing out in stark contrast against her deathly pale skin. “Do we have an understanding?” Rachael asked in a deep husky voice. Before Bruce could answer he felt her hand on his crotch, her fingers tightening around his balls and her long nails digging painfully into the soft tender flesh. He hadn’t realized that he was naked, but looking down he saw that he wasn’t wearing any clothes at all. Rachael squeezed his balls tighter. “Do we have an understanding?” she asked again. Bruce could feel pain, fear and an incredible tingling, sexual arousal all at the same time. The sensations swirled around him, blending into one cohesive whole. “Yes,” he said, his voice coming out in a whimper. “Yes, we have an understanding,” Rachael coaxed, her fingers squeezing tighter around his balls. “Yes, we have an understanding,” Bruce repeated obediently in the same whimpering tone. Rachael pushed Bruce back onto the couch, keeping her hand firmly locked around his testicles. “Does it hurt?” she asked sarcastically. Her hand squeezed tighter, her long fingernails sinking deeper into his soft flesh. “Yes!” Bruce gasped. He could feel an unbridled terror raging through him, threatening to break the dam and flood him with uncontrollable panic. “Are you scared?” Rachael asked. Bruce could never remember being this scared in his life. He tried to answer but couldn’t find his voice. “I said, are you scared,” Rachael asked again. Bruce opened his mouth but no sound would come out. “Don’t make me rip them off,” Rachael threatened. No, please God! Don’t do it! Bruce could hear himself yelling inside his head. He strained to find his voice, but it was gone. “Answer me!” Rachael demanded. Bruce closed his eyes, bracing himself for the worst . . . and then the pain was gone. He opened his eyes again and saw Lyla nestled between his legs, her huge breasts resting on his thighs. “You’re safe now,” Lyla said. Her voice was soft and reassuring. Bruce realized that the pain and fear were gone. Only the arousal remained. “Thank you,” he said to Lyla, as she smiled back at him sweetly. “You’re safe now,” she said, “I’ll take care of you.” Bruce looked at her breasts. They were absolutely incredible. Enormous mounds of flesh that seemed to stretch out endlessly. Her aereole were the size of saucers and her nipples rose thick and rubbery from the smooth surface of her skin. “You’re safe with me,” she said soothingly as she wrapped her tits around his stiff cock, burying it in a sea of soft flesh. Bruce felt an incredible wave of eroticism, as if his whole body had become as sensitive as the head of his cock. He could feel his erection growing between Lyla’s tits, forcing its way up until it poked out through her cleavage. His eyes opened wide with astonishment as he saw the huge, glistening end of his shaft appear between her breasts. It would have had to have grown twelve inches or more to have made its way through her massive bosom. It continued to grow until three or four more inches protruded out of her deep valley of cleavage. Lyla looked down at his pounding erection as it quivered, buried in her soft flesh. Her face was glowing. “It’s so beautiful,” she purred. She leaned her face forward and kissed the end of it gently. The touch of her lips made the head of his cock swell. It was purple and throbbing, ready to explode. Bruce watched as her tongue peeked out from between her lips and licked the underside of his shaft. The sensation was incredible, as if his whole body were about to erupt into a fantastic orgasm. Lyla pressed her breasts together with her hands and moved them up and down, slowly rubbing his cock between them as they rose and fell. She licked him again, her hot, wet tongue sliding sensually along the exposed length of his shaft. Bruce felt his balls swell up to the size of oranges as they prepared to let loose with a fountain of cum. “It’s alright, you’re safe with me, baby,” Lyla whispered as she continued to lick the end of his dick. Bruce could feel every muscle in his body tighten as if he were being drawn into his balls and sucked up through the shaft of his pounding erection. He watched Lyla as her tongue moved slowly around the head of his cock. The sensuous eroticism of the sight overwhelmed him and he suddenly felt that she had taken over control of his body. He could feel its sensations, but had no ability to direct it. She was in charge and he could only be carried along, as helpless as a man sliding down an icy slope, a victim to gravity’s will. And then he began to cum. He felt that he should try to stop it, but knew that he couldn’t. She had made it happen and only she could bring it to an end. And so he came . . . and came . . . and came. It poured out of him in an endless stream, torrents of viscous white fluid that spurted into the air with each involuntary convulsion. It spilled everywhere, running down the inner slopes of Lyla’s breasts and forming a deep pool in the valley of her cleavage. It kept coming in an endless orgasm of erotic pleasure. “I’m very disappointed in you, Bruce.” He recognized the voice immediately. It was Suzanne. He looked up and she was standing over him, looking down disapprovingly with her arms folded across her chest. She shook her head in disgust. “I’m very disappointed in you, Bruce,” she said again. “Suzanne, I can . . . I . . . ” Bruce stammered. “Very disappointed,” Suzanne carried on. “It’s alright, baby, you’re safe with me,” Lyla reassured him as she continued to slide her breasts up and down the length of his still erupting erection. He looked into Lyla’s loving eyes. Cum was still streaming out of him in an unbroken torrent. He could feel Suzanne’s eyes staring down at him, scorning him. He tried desperately to make the cum stop, but it kept on in an endless stream. “Don’t fight it, baby,” Lyla said smiling. “It’s okay. You’re safe with me.” Bruce could still feel the tightness in his balls forcing the fluid up his shaft like a geyser. The pleasure was intoxicating. He looked up at Suzanne again. She was crying now, her mascara streaking as the tears ran down her cheeks. “I’m very disappointed in you, Bruce,” she sobbed. “Suzanne, please,” Bruce pleaded. “Very disappointed . . . ” Suzanne said, as she turned and walked away. “Suzanne, please,” Bruce called after her. “It’s alright. You’re safe with me, baby.” He could hear Lyla’s voice surrounding him. “Suzanne, please.” “It’s alright, baby.” “Suzanne, please! Suzanne, please. Suz . . . ” Bruce opened his eyes groggily and then suddenly bolted upright in his bed. The room was dark, the dim light from the streetlamp outside his window making it barely possible to make out the shapes of the furniture. He felt groggy and disoriented. His heart was pounding in his chest. The memory of misty images that had swirled around him in his sleep made him reach down inside his pajamas and find the wetness that he knew would be there. As his fingers felt the warm stickiness, the images from his dream came back to him vividly. He remembered the intensity of the feeling and heaviness in his heart as Suzanne had left him. He remembered the overwhelming sense of incredible horniness as Lyla had made him cum between her tits. He reminded himself that it was only a dream and looked at the alarm clock beside the bed. Two forty-six. As his mind gained clarity, his dream and reality slowly separated themselves from each other. “It was only a dream,” he said aloud to the darkness. “Only a dream.” He took a kleenex and cleaned up the small mess in his pyjamas. His body shuddered as his mind flashed for an instant to the scene that had caused his accident. He tossed the kleenex toward the wastepaper basket and lay back down. He could feel that sleep wasn’t far away and as he drifted off he wondered if he would dream again. He was afraid that he might return to the same nightmare. He also suspected that when he awoke in the morning, his reality might turn out to be even more frightening than the images that had invaded his sleep. With that unsettling thought on his mind, he eventually fell asleep.
PART 2: CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Half the morning had gone by and Bruce had yet to pick up the phone. He sat at his desk, a list of calls to make in front of him; prospective clients, follow up calls, calls to be returned . . . and he waited. When he woke up this morning, he showered and shaved as usual, moving a little slower than most mornings. He took his time making breakfast, looking over the morning paper as he ate and stretching out the process as long as possible. When he felt he couldn’t delay any longer, he went into his office and sat down at his desk. Since then, he had been sitting alone with the phone, feeling like a poker player staring across the table at his stone-faced opponent, each one waiting for the other to blink first. Bruce had never run into this kind of a mental block before in his life. Over the years the phone had become a comfortable tool, a friend, a way of reaching out to the world and connecting with people; a way of doing his job, a way of making a living. But today it had become a sleeping monster, a poisonous serpent that might strike out at him at any moment. On the one hand he was frightened that it might ring at any second and if he answered he would find Rachael on the line, exercising her power over him by demanding his presence immediately. And like a finely crafted horror film, the suspense was unbearable. Waiting seemed so much worse than anything he could imagine Rachael might possibly do to him that he wished she would just call and get it over with. But at the same time he dreaded her call because he had no idea what she might really want him to do. He kept picturing her husband running out of the house naked, cupping his balls protectively in his hands and screaming frantically like a man who had been driven to madness. He didn’t know what Rachael would ask of him when the time came, but he did know that the idea of finding out terrified him. But there was more fear connected with the phone than just the threat of Rachael’s call. All morning Bruce had the feeling that he should be calling Suzanne, reaching out to her, talking to her, saying something . . . anything. But somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was afraid that he might not know what to say. He was afraid that he might tell her everything. He was equally afraid that he might not be able to tell her anything at all. Mostly he was afraid that she would know something was wrong just from the sound of his voice. He knew if he called, he would have to be able to act normal. The problem was that he couldn’t remember what normal felt like because things certainly weren’t normal anymore. About once every fifteen minutes Bruce started to reach for the receiver, but his hand would stop in mid air and then slowly fall back into his lap. This kind of fear and uncertainty was completely unfamiliar to him and he had no idea how to deal with it. He had never been the type of person who needed to build up his nerve to take action and now that he found himself in that position, he was discovering that he had never developed the skills to cope with it. His mind kept turning over, bouncing back and forth between Rachael and Suzanne; the fear of making a call versus the fear of receiving one. He considered calling Rachael again, but that didn’t seem like a very good idea. So far, every time he had tried to work things out with her, it had only made matters worse. But he still considered the possibility. After all, it seemed at this point that he didn’t have anything to lose. He couldn’t imagine how Rachael could make things any worse than they already were. On the other hand, he couldn’t really afford to take a chance. He was beginning to believe that there was no limit to how far she might go. He had the feeling that Rachael would be able to think up ways to torment him far beyond anything he would be able to conceive of. Finally, he told himself that he had to do something. He knew he should call Suzanne, and he had to decide whether or not he was going to try to call Rachael. Calling Suzanne was safer, but it wouldn’t solve his problem. Calling Rachael was simply dangerous. His thoughts ricocheted back and forth like a ping pong ball. And then he suddenly picked up the receiver and dialed. He could hear the phone ringing at the other end. His palms were sweaty. He could hear his own breath in his ears, loud like huge waves crashing against the beach. Hello. “Hello . . . Lyla? It’s Bruce.” His voice was quivering with nervous anticipation. Why Bruce, it’s so good to hear from you. I was hoping you wouldn’t wait too long before you called. Lyla’s tone was friendly and receptive. The sound of her voice filled Bruce’s stomach with butterflies and his hands began to shake. As he pictured her in his mind, standing in her housecoat with her hand stretched out to him and asking him to go upstairs, it occurred to him that he had known all along that this was the call he was going to make. He heard the words coming out of his mouth but felt as if someone else were speaking them, as if he were being driven on by some force for which he had no control. “How have you been?” I’ve been good. I’ve missed you. Those last words made goosebumps stand out on Bruce’s flesh. Only then did he realize how frightened he had been that Lyla might have regretted the other night and tried to pretend that it had never happened. But the sound of those words and the way she said them let him know that she hadn’t regretted a thing and that there was a good chance it might happen again. While these thoughts ran through his mind, the force that was carrying the words out of his mouth drove him on. “I’ve missed you, too.” (pause) “I was hoping that I could see you again . . . sometime soon.” In the brief moment of silence before Lyla answered, Bruce came to understand how much this really meant to him. He hadn’t known before, but the anxiety that he was now feeling made it very clear. I’d like that. Her short answers were coaching him to the questions she wanted him to ask. She was a lady waiting to be wooed and he as the gentleman who had come acalling. “Alright then . . . ummmm . . . when would be a convenient time?” Well, I know Rachael is going out tonight. Would you like to drop by this evening? Sometime after supper. Say, around seven thirty. Bruce’s heart was pounding with excitement. He felt more like a nervous schoolboy than he ever had when he was that age. “I’ll be there,” he answered enthusiastically. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you. “Lyla, I . . . ” Bruce started, suddenly aware of who he was talking to and wondering what she must be thinking about him under the circumstances. It’s alright. I understand. You don’t have to say anything. “I’ll see you tonight then,” Bruce said, not knowing what else to say. I’ll see you tonight. Bye-bye. Bruce heard a click as the line went dead and he gently returned the receiver to its cradle. He sat for a long time, first looking at the phone and then staring out the window. The sky was bright and overcast, the kind of day when the light seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. And like the light, his thoughts came to him from every direction, bathing him with their inescapable clarity. He knew that what he was doing was crazy. Having an affair behind Suzanne’s back was dangerous enough, but sneaking around with her mother was completely insane. And when you combined that with his situation with Rachael, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough problems already. But in spite of the danger, something was driving him on. What was it about Lyla that attracted him to her so irresistibly? The image of the schoolteacher floated into his mind, her breasts rising up under her blouse like giant mounds of eroticism. But it wasn’t just her breasts that had kept the memory so alive and vivid in his mind all these years. It was the way it had made him feel, the way it had made him tingle, the way it had made his cock hard and demand his attention. It was the same way Lyla made him feel. The way the sight of her breasts made him feel. And it was the feeling that he was unable to resist. He knew what he doing was wrong. He knew that he should call Lyla back and tell her that he couldn’t come over tonight, that he couldn’t come over any night. He knew that he should put a stop to this before it was too late, before he made things worse than they already were. But instead he picked up the phone and dialed the first number on his list. “Seven-thirty will come soon enough,” he thought aloud, as the phone began to ring at the other end of the line. “I might as well get some work done while I wait.”
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