by Mia Moore
I played with his cock, trailing my fingers over the head and down, watched it thicken, placed it against my clit, rubbed it. Oh God, it felt good, especially now that I was so wet.
Steve’s head was bent watching, breathing faster, once more. “That’s a good girl. Play with yourself with my cock but don’t come. I’ll tell you when you can come.”
My fingers slid over the thick knob, pressing and rubbing it against my clit, sending jolts of pleasure through me. He was hard as a rock once more, firm against my joy spot…only his cock and my pussy mattered as my need increased. I was almost there, rubbing us both to orgasm, when he grabbed my hips and rolled me over, his body now on top.
I grasped his cock that had slipped lower, away from my clit, to try to connect the two but his hand snaked between us, stopping me. He took his cock from me and slid it lower still, until it pressed against my opening.
OH MY GOD! This was it! I braced myself for the pain, my fingers digging into his back…OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK it hurt! It was like a knife shooting into me, deeper and deeper, hot, sharpness tearing me in two. I tried to flinch away but his fingers on my hips, held me still.
He pulled out and the relief was immediate before he impaled me once more. Slowly…in, my breath ragged, eyes squeezed shut…then out, only a dull ache before he pumped into me again. Oh Jesus, women actually like this?
“Finger your clit and relax your muscles.” His voice was guttural.
My hand left his back and slid between us, resting on my pussy. I breathed deeply through my mouth and touched my clit, teasing the sensitive tip. The pain was replaced with pleasure as I stroked it, pussy splayed wide with Steve’s cock deep inside me.
“Your cunt is so tight.” It came out like a grunt as he shoved his shaft deeper still.
“Oh Steve it hurts. You’re too big.” Still my finger played with my clit wearing my resistance down with each caress.
“I’m in all the way Tara. Just keep playing with yourself while I fuck you. It’ll feel nice after a while.”
He remained still, filling me as I fingered myself. The pain vanished, wiped out by lust for this handsome man, to be fucked by his huge cock…faster and faster my finger moved…until I cried out. This was all he’d been waiting for. He pumped into me once more, riding towards his own ecstasy, meeting mine.
Oh God, the memory of that first time…
I place blue, another first, against my pussy, slide the cock and anal protrusion deep inside and press the button. Oh God, I’m filled to bursting with rolling, vibrating cock…like Steve’s cock. I place the rabbit ear flaps against my clit obeying his voice in my mind.
Oh fuck…the hotness in my ass and cunt and the flaps buzzing my clit…it’s incredible…so intense. My muscles squeeze the fullness bringing on the first orgasm…and then a second, deeper in intensity, leaving me breathless, hips pumping and writhing. On and on until I can’t stand it anymore. I push the button to turn it off and pull blue away from me.
Fuck that was nice. I smile as I walk to the bathroom to rinse my new toy. The only thing that would have made it hotter would be if Steve or someone was watching me, taking pictures of my pleasure. Well they aren’t but there’s nothing stopping me from filming it, taking photos. Maybe next time…
I wonder if the chick downstairs or Claire upstairs gets turned on by people watching them? Well, probably Claire. I place blue on a paper towel on the vanity and leave it to air dry, going into the kitchen to rustle up something to eat. Rustle up? God, my mind is still tangled up with that cowboy, Steve.
I scan the refrigerator but nothing appeals to me. I haven’t had pizza in a while. I go back to the bedroom for my cell phone and find a restaurant nearby which delivers. It’s early but afterwards, I’ll have the energy to go back to writing. I find one a few blocks away and punch the phone number, place the order.
***
Twenty minutes later the buzzer on the phone plays. Damn. I’m going to have to go down to get it. I slip my bathrobe on, this time making sure I’ve got the key, and race down the stairs. When I enter the lobby, a young man carrying a pizza box stands outside the locked glass door. He’s turned away, checking out something behind him.
When I open the door, he startles but turns to face me. I slip the money to him and take the box about to turn but now I can see what he was so engrossed in. Holy fuck! There’s a fight on the sidewalk…I step towards the door to the outside. Oh my God, the guy on top is really wailing on the one underneath.
Shit! It’s the Super beating the hell out of an old guy! I set the box on the floor and open the door, step outside, fingers clasped at the edge of my hood, pulling it forward.
It’s the old homeless guy I saw the other night, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. Mike’s arm rises, his hand in a fist about to hammer the old guy again!
“Stop! What are you doing?” I take another step closer, being careful to avoid the old guy’s legs which flail up, trying to push Mike off.
The blow gets the guy in the jaw, blood flies and Mike lifts his arm once more. What the hell! Mike’s in his forties and the old guy must be close to seventy! The old guy doesn’t stand a chance and Mike isn’t stopping or letting up. There’re some people standing looking but no one’s doing anything to stop this!
I race back into the building, grab my pizza and unlock the door. God, I wish the elevator wasn’t so slow so I could take it, instead of running up two flights of stairs. My breath is fast as I unlock the door to my apartment and scramble inside. Maybe someone’s already called the police, but I’m not taking that chance. I grab my cell phone and hit 911.
It’s answered after two rings and I gasp the details of what I just saw and the address. I stride into the bedroom to look out my bedroom window. Part of the street is visible from this angle. Why the hell, they want my name and address is beyond me. Just send the cops for God’s sake before that bully kills the old guy.
He’s an ex-soldier, so he knows how to fight. What the hell would he be doing beating up some bum? Is it some kind of psychotic episode? I sigh, relieved when the squeal of the police siren fills the air. I just hope they get there in time, so the old guy’s not dead!
Jesus. The pizza guy and on-lookers didn’t do anything to break the fight up, just walked on by like seeing an old bum get the shit kicked out of him was an everyday thing. Times like this, I hate the big city. That kind of shit wouldn’t happen in Black Rapids. Someone would have stepped in and stopped it. Well, I tried.
I’m tempted to go downstairs again and see what’s happening? The police probably have Mike restrained and will arrest him. God, I hope the old guy’s not dead.
So what about the building? Looks like we’re going to be getting a new Super. To think, I thought he was an okay guy and then I see the real Mike. What an asshole. Even if it was some sort of lapse, it still shouldn’t have happened. That poor old man.
I wander into the living room and get the pizza from where I’d tossed it, on the sofa. But my appetite is gone. I put the box in the fridge and wander back into the living room, turn on the TV. It’s Law and Order, a program I normally like but not tonight. I feel like I’m living that drama after seeing Mike’s brutality.
Chapter 14
The next day, dressed in actual clothes, a hoodie and jeans, I carry my garbage to the elevator. It had started to smell, overflowing the container and I knew I couldn’t put the trip to the utility room off any longer. My only concession was that it was ten in the morning, a time when other residents would probably be at work. Okay Dr. Anderson, it’s not doing the exposures you advised but at least I’m getting out of the apartment.
The clunk lets me know the elevator is about to open. When it does I risk a glance, ready to lower my head but it’s empty, thank God. I step inside and push the button to take me to the basement. I wonder if the company who owns the building, hired a replacement for Mike? The garbage has got to be dealt with and they should know that.
When the door
opens, I step outside and turn at a sound to the right. Oh my God! It’s Mike opening the door to his apartment! What the fuck is HE doing out? I thought he’d be in jail. Don’t tell me someone bailed him out. The management company?
Shit! Does he know it was me who called the police? My mouth goes dry and my heart is in my throat when I turn to walk to the utility room. Please God, let him just go in his apartment and leave me alone. I take a few steps, about to set the bags of garbage down, to turn the handle and enter the large room when there’s a hand on my shoulder stopping me.
“Let me.” His voice is behind me. His hand drops to the door knob and he steps by me, opening the door.
Oh my God, there’s no one around but us. If he attacks me, who will come? Shit! My cell phone is upstairs.
“About yesterday…” He takes the bags of garbage from my hand and tosses them into the dumpster.
Holy shit! He’s actually looking at me full on, not hiding the disfigurement. His eyes are narrow and his chin thrusts out, like he’s challenging me or something.
“It was you who called the cops, wasn’t it?” He steps towards me and I’m back in the moment…back when that pig Breton, sliced my face. Everything goes black.
To be continued…
Book 3
Chapter 15
My hands shoot out, grabbing her body just in time. She’s a dead weight and heavier than I expected considering how skinny she is. What the hell! She turned white as a ghost and faints? Now what do I do? I can’t take her into my apartment—she’ll wake up and see the video surveillance. Shit!
I scoop her up, holding her in my arms and walk to the elevator. Thank God it’s still there, opening immediately when I push the button. I step inside and push number three. The wound in my side hurts like hell with the weight of her body.
The hood of her sweater is back and her face exposed. Two red lines extend from the corners of her mouth, up across her cheekbones ending just short of her eyes. There are shorter lines across her cheeks, crisscrossing and intersecting the big ones. And her forehead…five red lines stating at her scalp and cutting through her eyebrows. Jesus.
She’s still out and would never know I looked at her but still… I turn to the row of lights, just as the number three lights up. The elevator opens and I carry her to her door. I raise my knee, brace it against the wall and lower her legs. My hand shoots into my pocket and I pull out the master key to unlock her door, shove it open. Once more I scoop her up. I hustle through her apartment to her bedroom and place her tiny body on her bed.
I race to the kitchen and grab a tea towel and turn on the tap. Cold water fills the cloth. I was only going to thank her for calling the cops. What the hell was she thinking that she fainted? I wring the cloth out, walk quickly back to where she is, and sit next to her on the bed. Holy shit, she must have thought I was going to attack her…I place the cloth on her forehead, dab her temples with the ends.
It’s no wonder she fainted, looking at her face. Her eyelids flutter.
“Tara? Miss Jones?” I shake her shoulder.
“What…” Her eyes open. She’s got brown eyes, soft and deep like chocolate.
A line appears between her eyebrows and her eyes are wide now, pulling her head away from me…
“It’s okay. You fainted, that’s all. You’re in your own bed. You’re safe.” My hand is on her shoulder still and I squeeze it gently. There’s hardly any flesh on her; God knows her bones could break as easily as a bird’s.
She bats my hand away and places her hands on the bed, pushing her body up, as far away from me as she possibly can get. I should probably just leave. That would be the only thing that would calm her down.
“Get out or I’ll scream! I’ll call the police!” Her voice is loud, venom in her gaze.
“Fine. I’m leaving, don’t worry.” I stand up, holding my hands up, palms outward.
“How’d you get out of jail? They arrested you didn’t they? Did your bosses bail you out? They need the floors mopped and a thug to run the building?” She stares at me like I’m dog shit on the sole of her shoe.
A thug? I look at her for a few moments, tempted to explain what happened. A thug! That’s how she sees me? It’s not bad enough that I’m disfigured, like her! A war vet who never asked to get maimed doing my duty and now I’m a thug as well. Fuck it.
I turn and walk out of the apartment. Sure, I could have explained about Billy the bum but why bother? She’s too damaged from her own past to even hear it. She’d never understand that I’d caught him red handed and he shoved a shiv in my gut, would probably have killed me if not for my training. But that makes me a thug, huh?
I slam the door, relishing the one lapse, indulging my anger. There was a time that I thought we could be friends-both of us damaged goods. But, she’s more fucked up than me. No, better leave that one alone. That’s not to say, I won’t keep an eye on her. But not like before. My feet pound the stairs, down to the basement.
Shit! Sarge and the kittens! They must be starving! Now I’m racing to my door, fumbling with the key, sigh with relief when she comes running.
“Sorry Sarge. I know you’re starving.” I grab the kibble and throw it in a bowl. There. I set it down and almost groan seeing her empty milk bowl. “Poor Sarge. If I’d known I’d be this late getting out of the ER…shit.” I pour milk into the bowl and slop some over the side setting it on the floor.
I walk into the bedroom and open the closet door. Five sets of eyes peer up at me, blinking at the light. I pick up Grunt, the one who looks like her and my favorite. He’s so helpless in my hands, soft against my face. I squat and put him back. It’s hard not to play favorites but I pick each one up, trying to keep each snuggle time the same. How quickly they’re growing, walking on wobbly legs, but walking.
I get up and go into the living room to check the monitors. The old lady is vacuuming. Good she’s okay. Claire’s working up a sweat on the stair-master. I sit down, click the mouse to zoom in and watch her exercise. There’s half moons of sweat on the underarms of her sports bra and a dark line between her breasts—breasts that jiggle above the constraints of the fabric with every step. Breasts that I’ve filled my hands and mouth with.
She stops and steps off the machine, walks to the bathroom. I click the mouse and the bathroom fills the screen. She peels the tight spandex pants along with her panties down, bending to slip her each foot out. God what an ass! Full and soft…nothing like Tara’s skinny butt.
Fuck! I don’t want to, but I’ve got to see how she is. I turn to the monitor that shows Tara’s apartment. She’s in the living room holding her phone to her ear. I adjust the volume to hear what she says. Is she calling the police? Reporting me for helping her with the garbage and then carrying her into her bedroom? Yeah, I’m sure to get arrested for being a nice guy!
“All right, Antonio, if it’s that important, I’ll see you.” She hangs up and is staring off into space.
I’ve never seen anyone visit her. I thought she was a loner, cutting herself off from everyone.
“Oh God…fuck that’s good…” I turn at Claire’s voice. She’s perched on the edge of the bathroom sink, legs spread, masturbating. She’s in the same position as when I was in there with her. Her fingers vibrate her clit, the flesh on her upper arm jiggles with the speed.
I unbutton my pants and slide the zipper down. My fingers close around my cock, pulling its stiffness out, massaging up and down the length. I gaze at her finger, the dark, glistening lips of her pussy and her opening, just the smallest curve of white flesh pressed into the counter as she sits playing with herself.
Oh fuck, she’s hot. Maybe she’s thinking of me…I palm the bead of pre-cum that forms in my slit, rolling it over the head of my cock. Me…eating her out, licking her clit and almost fisting her cunt.
“Oh God, lick me…yeah….OH…OH” Her face grows tight, eyes squeezed shut, lost in bliss.
OH FUCK! My hand pumps my cock like a piston…Jesus…cum spurt
s out…another. I squeeze my knob coaxing the last burst of lust…her hand leaves her pussy…she puts her fingers in her mouth, sucking them. Oh God, her cunt, bare, lips parted…it’s beautiful. Maybe she’ll change her mind and call me. Fuck I hope so.
Chapter 16
Jerking off watching Claire helped but still… I’m pissed off. Taking the garbage to the back of the building for pick-up, I notice the top two bags in the dumpster. Tara’s…no better get it right, Miss Jones’ bags. She’s never going to be anything more than just one of the tenants—no first names. But why do I keep thinking about her?
Jesus, her face really was a mess when I got a look at it so close. It’s no wonder she was frightened. A thug with a straight razor and then thinking I was just another thug. And alone with me in the utility room after seeing me beat that scumball Billy into the ground. She’d actually fainted she was so scared.
She’s had time to calm down. Maybe I should go up and talk to her—explain about Billy, that he’d been on the fire escape, outside the old lady’s apartment when I caught him. Sure, he plays the homeless guy pretty well but he’s got a record. He knew she was home and was still trying to break in. If I hadn’t caught him, he’d probably have robbed Mrs. French and beat the shit out of her, maybe killed her.
I go back into the building and pause at the stairwell. Maybe I should go up. At least it would put her mind at ease that she’s safe. Show her I’m no thug that she has to avoid for fear of her life. I glance at my watch and race up the stairs, all four flights. At the top I look at my watch and smile. Better timing than ever.
This is a good decision—speak my piece and let the chips fall where they may. My feet are light as I push through the door to the hallway and walk down to her door. My knuckles rap on her door in a friendly two beat tap.
