by Stephens, L.
This girl is terrible, Jake thought as he went through the motions, creeping his cock part of the way into her pussy, teasing her, then thrusting deep inside trying to make her give him a reaction, a real reaction. It had gone from sexual conquest to sexual regret in less than five minutes. He watched her every move, every flick of her hair. She even smacked her own ass and gave the old “Oooh that feels good!” line followed by a lip pout. She had obviously watched thousands of hours of porn, and studied the various poses and dialogue, molding them into a routine. It was insulting what she was subjecting him to. He just hoped she wasn’t going to hand him an invoice at the end of this debacle. At any rate if this girl was a hooker, she was doing a terrible job. A hooker’s goal was to make you cum in the shortest time possible. If anything, she was the anti-hooker, because her antics were almost making Jake go soft.
† Almost! For the record, our hero never goes soft. †
The show pony routine did nothing for him. He was already fucking her, why on Earth would he want to fall in love with her too? He wasn’t stupid; this was her tactic. She was trying to make him feel like a sex god so he would keep coming back. It was the girlfriend experience, and he had seen that dozens of times before, and it had never worked. His intuition in situations like this was like a sixth sense. His cock was operating at a higher level, and it made him feel like a star of a TV show.
He was a hardened street cop, prowling the mean streets of Los Angeles, doing what needed to be done. When one day, he was on a routine investigation into an illegal shipment of Viagra and his world changed forever. Now, as the FBI’s newest detective, he uses his psychic cock, his psycock if you will, to solve murders and he will have to fuck to survive. Jake Meyers is, The Fuck Medium, coming this fall to Fox.
Yeah, the plot still needed to be ironed out a little. For instance, he would need to make it clear his psycock only worked on women, but that was a minor detail that could be easily fixed with exposition.
Jake was done, and she was acting. It was all a rouse, and he had fallen for it, but he decided that since he was already fucking her, he might as well just keep going and started pumping harder and harder.
“Yeah! Fuck me, baby!” the girl panted, biting her lip as she looked over shoulder. “I know you want it!”
Jake pulled his hips back so the head of his cock was almost out of her pussy then slammed it back in and kept pumping in this fashion, quietly grunting with each thrust inside. He just wanted to cum now and get it over with.
@KillingJake sometimes people hate you so much they want to fuck you and sometimes you let them. What a fitting end to a fucking cluster fuck of a night - got laid doe. #JizzedInWomb #SexInTheShitty
CHAPTER 40: WINNERS & LOSERS
She didn’t know how or why she had let herself get into this situation, but the most surprising part about it, besides the fact she was fucking some random asshole in a disgusting restroom, was that it was starting to feel good. When the fat asshole or some other sugar daddy was fucking her, all she was focused on was the big finish, which was the most important part of their relationship. The act of fucking was crucial of course, but she knew in a relationship based on money and power, if a guy blew his load and then felt any sort of regret or dissatisfaction, it would be amplified tenfold. That brief moment when he had gotten all he had ever wanted from her could literally make or break whether she got a seat on the next private jet or if she was ghosted into oblivion. Jill had become an expert in faking orgasms, especially when he came inside her. She would make the guy think, even after three pumps, his load hitting her cervix was like vagina dynamite. The fat asshole hadn’t fucked her in over a month, but she knew it wasn’t because of her. He just didn’t want to do it anymore, not with her or the hookers she had arranged to come by and service him. No one. He was too busy on his latest project.
This situation right now was so foreign to her, not just in the setting but every single aspect. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted to enjoy every stroke, every pump, and she even started grinding back into his cock as he started pumping harder. She was still holding back, but she wasn’t angling for the big finish. Her mind was trying to hold out and get some sort of power from him, but her animal instinct was taking over, and she let out an uncontrolled breath. He slowed down and readjusted his pumps, and they were almost soothing. They had the perfect amount of pressure as they went in and out, and she betrayed herself again and let out another gasp. Like it or not, she was about to cum. She was about to cum with a guy inside her, not her fingers rubbing her clit or a vibrator set to maximum which was the only way she had ever cum before. She was about to cum in a filthy restroom as some random asshole fucked her from behind.
His tempo sped up again, and she lost control. She was panting and loving every minute of it. He kept slamming her pussy, his balls slapping her clit perfectly, and Jill found herself holding her breath. She was cumming; she was cumming hard.
“I’m gonna cum!” the asshole said through his teeth.
“Fuck!” Jill moaned to herself as she arched her back.
She couldn’t believe how good she felt. He was like a high-performance sex robot switched to maximum, and she covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her shame. She felt him pull back a little, and then with one final thrust the asshole grunted and filled her pussy with his cum. They both froze in time, breathing heavy, as they slowly came back to Earth and began getting used to the gravity again.
He was still catching his breath when Jill’s mind awoke and began racing. It was like she had an epiphany. Maybe this was what life was all about, she thought. Maybe this was why people were able to live mundane, nothing-special lives? She was starting to come to grips with the fact that she had just made a connection, a real human connection based on intimacy, not money or power.
“Well, that was good!” the asshole said as he straightened up and pulled his still hard cock out of her. “I guess I better be going.”
Jill straightened up like she had been shocked by electricity. She couldn’t quite work out what he was talking about. In her mind, there was no way in hell he could be leaving her immediately, not after such an amazing experience. She pretended she hadn’t heard him as she reached into her handbag and pulled out a small packet of Kleenex and wiped her pussy, doing her best to get all of the asshole’s seed that wasn’t currently making its way to her womb. The toilet was in a couple pieces on the ground but that didn’t stop her from throwing the damp Kleenex into what was left of it.
“You need me to call you an Uber?” the asshole said as he pulled up his pants.
She put a piece of gum in her mouth as all residual feelings of happiness drained from her. On the outside she seemed fine, enjoying the first couple bites of the mint flavored gum, but on the inside her mind was working quickly. Calculating various ways to destroy the asshole for using her and stealing her power.
“That’s it? I didn’t even cum, you asshole,” Jill lied.
“You didn’t cum?” the asshole said earnestly. “It seemed like you did.”
“Do I look like I came, you fucking jerk?” Jill asked, fixing her underwear and adjusting her dress.
“Look this whole thing was just for my entertainment,” the asshole said, using his forehead sweat to style and primp the loose hairs back into position. “If you didn’t cash out before the ride was over, well, that’s on you.”
She skipped a beat. This wasn’t going how she had planned it. She expected the guy to be on his knees pleading for forgiveness, promising that the next time will be better and that he’ll work his magic and she will cum all night. Of course, she would never give him that opportunity, and he would forever rue that moment that he didn’t put her on a pedestal.
“Well, I’m not on birth control, so…” Jill trailed off, looking at herself in what was left of the mirror. She was showing a tough exterior but her interior was dying a slow death.
“Well my dear,” the asshole snickered. “You’re fucking w
elcome.”
“But…” Jill stuttered before being interrupted by the ringtone of the asshole’s cell phone, echoing around the restroom.
“Hold that thought,” the asshole said, holding up a finger.
He pulled the phone from his pocket and in the same movement pressed the accept button and put the phone to his ear.
“Hello!?” the asshole said emphatically. “D-Dubs!?”
“Don't give me that shit!” the muffled voice yelled. “What the fuck, have you got me into, man?”
Jill watched as the asshole snapped to attention.
“What happened?” he said, turning his back on Jill.
“Shit has gone south, quick!” the muffled voice screamed. “How well do you know this Max guy?”
Jill was taken aback. The voice was muffled, but she swore the guy on the other end of the line had said “Max.” It was too much of a coincidence. She tried to grab his shoulder so he would pay her attention but he shrugged her off.
“What the fuck has happened?” the asshole said, color beginning to drain from his face with every heartbeat.
“It was a setup from the start,” the muffled voice said, speaking a mile a minute. “Someone else jacked the shipment.”
“Daryl, are you okay?” the asshole asked.
Jill could feel that she was becoming less of a priority to the asshole than she already was. She came up behind him and put her arms around him, and he shrugged her off again, but this time she had gotten his attention.
“Hold up one second,” the asshole said into the phone before turning around to look at her. “Listen, we had our fun. Now it's time to go.”
Jill shook her head in defeat and began walking in the direction of the door. As she walked past, the asshole grabbed her by the waist and deeply kissed her on the mouth, and Jill accepted his kiss willingly. As they kissed, the asshole spun her gently around like some sexual Beauty And The Beast slow dance. This was almost like heaven for Jill, but just as she was getting into it and all was forgiven, he pulled away and twirled back to the other side of the restroom.
“Bye!” the asshole said with a small wave.
Jill found herself right next to the door. He had kissed and danced her to the exit in an attempt to set her free of him. Being free of him was the last thing she wanted right now, so she gave him the finger. He just stood there smiling and showed her the chewing gum he had just stolen from her mouth.
“Asshole,” Jill whispered as she turned and left.
CHAPTER 41: RUNNING WHILE BLACK
Daryl had been running awhile, and he was far enough from the burning truck to feel safe, but he wasn’t going to request an Uber anytime soon, not unless he wanted a witness to place him near the scene of the crime. Not to mention his burner phone didn’t have the capabilities of even running the app. He kept to the shadows. He had no idea where he was going, but he was headed south. The thought of the cash in his pocket and the cash waiting for him gave him heart. He’d walk all the fucking way home if he had to. For some reason it didn’t matter how far away from the truck he got, the police sirens seemed to follow. He knew they couldn’t be for him, but paranoia was getting to him. Daryl slowed to a walk. The last thing he wanted to do was be caught running by a cop car, especially since he was far enough away from the truck to seem like he was minding his own business if they did chance upon him. Although having a stack of cash and a gun ran contrary to minding his own business.
The eighty thousand he was supposed to get for the job had evaporated into the thirty thousand deposit they had given him. He should have realized the whole fucking thing had been a set-up from the start. The money on offer had just blinded him from seeing the truth, until he woke in a parking lot covered in a thick blanket of betrayal. Credit where credit was due, they had played him well, but not well enough, because he was still alive and there was going to be swift retribution. The fifty thousand they owed him was definitely going to be recouped with interest, plus a knee cap or two for the emotional pain they had put him through.
Daryl hadn’t told anyone of his plans, mostly because his plans were bat shit crazy and he didn’t want a whole new set of reasons why he shouldn’t follow his dreams to add to the ones he had already given himself. He wasn’t going to open a shoe shop. He wasn’t going to get back into selling coke. He was going to do something that was so far from what he was used to. In prison, he had little else to do but dream—dream about what could have been and what could be. So instead of looking back to the tragedy of the past, he decided to look to the future, ripe with possibilities. He wasn’t naïve. He knew there weren’t many legit options for a former jailbird to really set the world on fire, but he had one idea that was still a gray area in the eyes of the federal government.
Daryl noticed a park on the other side of the road and decided to make a run for it. As he dashed out onto the street, a police helicopter overhead shone its massive spotlight down on him. He instinctively looked up into the light of the ghetto bird and didn’t see the trailer hitch of the truck he had ran behind. The next thing he knew, he was sliding across the road, his hands eating up the loose gravel on the street. As he lay on the ground holding on to his shin, waiting for the pain to subside, the police helicopter’s spotlight engulfed him like an alien spacecraft. There wouldn’t be any rectal probes, but after the night he had had so far, that might have been an upgrade. Dust flew into his mouth, and the light burned his retinas. This is it for me, he thought. He had come undone by the metal hitch of a ‘57 Chevy pickup that was more parts rust than metal.
At this point, all his hopes and dreams were once more put to the sword. He was resigned to his fate, and he did the calculations in his head. Five to ten for manslaughter, two to three for arson, and, if they could get the robbery charges to stick, another five on top of that. If he took an early plea deal and packaged them together and maybe threw that asshole, Max, into the shit too, he could get out in ten with good behavior. But he wasn’t a snitch. He would prefer to get revenge personally, even if Max was in an old folks home by the time he got out. So, the price of personal revenge and keeping his mouth shut would be a solid fifteen in a federal pen. It was classic Daryl: wrong place, wrong time, with a side of mis-fucking-fortune.
“Fuck you!” Daryl howled into the light, brandishing two middle fingers.
A police siren coupled with the roar of an engine could be heard a block or two over, getting louder and louder. Daryl knew it. He was done. They were coming for him. He weighed up the pros and cons of fleeing, and decided in today’s “shoot first, make up a story later” world, even if he gave up peacefully, he was still likely to end up in the “he resisted and had a weapon” column, especially since he actually did have a weapon. The reality of being laid out in the middle of the street with a speeding cop car coming at great speed made Daryl sit up and forget about the pain in his shin and hands. Getting arrested was one thing, but getting hit by a cop car was another thing entirely, so he jumped to his feet, ready to dive out of the way. He could hear it coming, but he couldn’t see it yet. The engine sounded like it was about to tear free from its mount, both engine and siren reaching a crescendo. Then, there was an enormous smash, followed almost instantly by an explosion.
“Sir,” came the almost robotic voice from the helicopter. “Get off the street, immediately.”
Without further ado, the light and its helicopter sped towards the scene of the explosion. Daryl didn’t wait for them to change their mind. He hobbled off the street and into the park.
It was a small inner-city park, devoid of any grass and covered in dirt that was hard as concrete, but to Daryl’s surprise there were plenty of trees, perfect cover to hide from the helicopter if they chose to return. There was a small playground with a covered slide and jungle gym. Daryl figured some inner-city kid had grown up hanging off the monkey bars and had graduated to running crack or some other cliché. There were a couple homeless encampments running along the chain link fence that bordered th
e park and the rest of the world but there was no movement or signs of human life. The small building in the corner of the park seemed to be at one time a functioning public restroom, but was now probably riddled with glory holes and locked tight to keep the homeless from setting up shop. Its close proximity to the trees made it easy for him to reach the roof, so he climbed on top, figuring if no one could see him, no one could get him, and he could wait out the night.
Once he reached the safety of the roof, Daryl rolled over onto his back and caught his breath. The head injury that Ray had given him, the panic, the exertion and worst of all the shin smashing had left him exhausted. A soft wind swept through the park, making the branches above Daryl sway, and he realized he was seeing double. The concussion was setting in. He checked his waistband and was relieved that he was still in possession of his gun. He had a strange feeling that he was going to have to use it before he got home and started his new life.
With his phone in his hand, Daryl quickly clicked through to the contacts list. There were only three numbers: Jake, Ray and Donald. He selected the name that had gotten him into this mess, and, after what seemed like an eternity, Jake answered the phone. His voice was loud, like a cockroach burrowing into his ear and invading his brain. Daryl took the phone away from his ear and put the call on speaker before resting it on his chest. He was pissed at Jake. Jake seemed to always be a part of Daryl’s downfall but never the cause. He was just the fly in the ointment. He relayed the night’s events to Jake as clearly as he could, and Jake listened intently not interrupting or asking stupid questions.
