Snow White : Continued (9/1504)
Squeaking brakes, engine purring, Michael heard this while he was in the kitchen watching television from across the room. The engine turned off and doors were opened. Naturally, Michael's ears perked up with the hearing of smaller sounds, he also tilted his head to the left with his right eyebrow raised. A Cheshire grin grew on his face. Go to her, he thought. Better not, would look suspicious. Wait here. They will come over. No one can resist Dannick Lasagna.
Minutes passed like crippling hours. Each second like an epoch, counting and counting until finally; Doorbell. Instead of throwing himself back to run to get the door, Michael waited. His palms open on the square wooden table. Everything seemed so minuscule, so tedious compared to the one at his parent's door. Thinking of what she would look like; Would she have a tan? Would she be sun burnt, oh I hope not, he thought sincerely?
You see, Michael was a person who used to be in the sun for quite a large amount of time when he was little. But when he entered Middle School, he focused all his attentions to music, art, and sometimes, his studies. He would stay inside and only go out with his parents to go eat at some restaurant. So many restaurants, so much money they had. But we shall return to that later.
Michael stayed indoors to the point where his skin is now; Pale. Like a tinted alabaster. So when he ever does go outside for more than thirty minutes to an hour, instead of his skin tanning, he roasts. His skin doesn't give him any warning, he will be fine one moment, then be crisp in a flash of flesh. He would drive around town with his parents, and at any time that his exposed flesh be touched by sunlight, it was like a slap on the skin. It hurt like needles and pins. So this is why he almost always wears sunscreen on a day to day basis.
As far as money, Michael's parents came from rich parents. So of course, the money was bequeathed to them during the event of their parent's death. Millions were put into their bank accounts when the final parent died on both sides. But growing ever tired of flashy, and mansionesc homes, the parens retired to a little house of their very own. They grew Michael up this way so that he would appreciate the value of a dollar, or if it should come down to it, the value of a quarter. Although, he would never have to worry about such grotesqueness. Because his parents would naturally take care of him.
When Michael was graduated from High School, they asked him what he would like to do. He proposed to get an honest job, and then get enough money to move out on his own. His parents were of course, touched by his sincerity of his heart. When he just turned eighteen he got the job he wanted; Working at a vintage clothing retail store, called "Onyx Treasure Box." If you took the 1920s, and invitrofertilized it with Hot Topic and Spencer's, then intravenously put in some Victoria's Secret, this would be the outcome.
It was a sex store, and occult store, it was a clothing store. It was a vintage store, it was a jewelry store. It was everything to Michael. Nothing could be better than to wake up and actually enjoy going to work. Things were piecing for Michael quite fine until the Right-Winged over zealous Christians and Baptists heard of this store.
They sent out messages of boycotts, sit-in boycotts, to down right hounding Michael for simply working "in such a filth ridden, Satan infested swamp of sin." It wasn't a "swamp of sin," it was a store. No swamps around for miles, he would tell them smiling. Things would get heated when the Sit-in's would occur. Michael would ask them, why be there, if they hated such a place? "Don't you have books to burn and a bonfire to get started?" He asked them one day. To which they would reply; "Sinner!"
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They would read scriptures in their bible aloud to the customers, which, pissed Michael off so much, but, he had to ask them to stop, until the customer felt "harassed." Michael asked the poor woman looking at the thongs: "Ma'am, do you feel harassed?" To which she replied: "Yes, I feel down right persecuted!" Michael called the cops.
The cops came and made every member of the group leave. They were charged with: Loitering, Harassment, Defamation of Character, Obstruction, Separation of Church and State and many other well deserved fines. But one member ran towards Michael and clasped at his shirt. Michael already had his hand on the pepperspray under the counter. Michael sprayed this idiot with almost every drop in the little can. Michael was snarling, then grinning at the fool Christian's pain.
The Christian went up to the officer and told him to arrest Michael. To which, Michael replied: "What you did was Assault and Battery, and I have the right to defend myself under such an attack." He then smiled as the Christian was squinting his eyes. The Christian man looked at the police officer, and the officer smiled at Michael, saluted him for "job well done" then handcuffed the man. Michael had to say it: "Oh, the burning, it must be HELL for you." Michael and the officer both shared an amazing moment of hilarity. But unfortunately, where there is one, there is more. The Christians are the biggest gang in America, there will be more. Michael knew this, he just had to wait.
More Sit-in's. More protests, more near-riot situations, more arrests. "Onyx Treasure Box" was now on ten different schedules for the police. Every fifteen minutes a car would drive slowly by to investigate. Business never really suffered, the Christians were merely an insect to flesh. An irritant. That's all they are, and all they will be, Michael said in disgust to the officers that would come in to see how he was holding up. Most would agree, and some would merely say: "Not all are this way, these are just the retards of the group." A police officer was to visit the store every hour on the hour. Undercover would do no good, the Christians had to see the presence of the police in order to know Michael was not playing around. The store owner asked if Michael needed more people to work with him on his shift, and he merely said: "Possibly to keep the shop lifters at bay." Michael feared nothing. The only thing he feared was getting fired. And since business was more than good with his personality, and the fact that the store owner and he were drinking buddies, that wasn't going to happen any time soon.
In just a few short weeks, "Onyx Treasure Box" was on top of every church's Hit-List. Michael was subject to many off-hour verbal attacks. Michael contorted an old Christian saying: "Get thee behind me, Satan," into "Get them behind me, Satan." He told this to each one, and each one became more livid. He would use their own scriptures against them, such as one that says, "Where the word is not wanted, you must walk away." This made them even more enraged like baboons with crosses and holy water. I guess their spiritual stocks are down, so they must attack me to prevent too much of a plummet, Michael thought to himself.
Anyone who touched him, Michael would send a punch flying toward them so fast they would land on the ground on their backs. They would not report Michael doing this, because the police are on Michael's side; anyone that harasses Michael, spends at least one night in jail. The women, however, Michael would simply spit on or say something extremely blasphemous. If they hit him, he would hit back. His mother taught him to be blind when someone attacks you. It is animalistic nature to survive, and humans are animals, she would say. Some would walk away, some would watch at far distances.
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The attacks and antics stopped for a while. Everyone was happy; The police, Michael, Dave (the store owner, who was thirty-five), customers, everyone. Michael picked up, Dave, one day in the early hours of sunlight, and drove to work. But upon getting a few blocks away from "Onyx," they saw billows of smoke. Michael's foot clamped down on the accelerator and they drove off of Shoal Creek Blvd. to see "Onyx Treasure Box" in flames. From corner to corner, singed and crumbling.
Michael and Dave shot out of Michael's Grand Am and fell to their knees just a few yards from the main entrance. Tears welled in their eyes like the dam about to burst. They knew. They knew who did this. For "Onyx" was up to fire code, up to safety code, up to every book and stitch code there could be about safety. Oh they knew, and they grew incensed with so much anger, they both got up, wiped their tears and began plots. They began searching around the store and found a gas can with remnants of gas on the walls. They also found a cross necklace that looked as if it was broken off in a chance to flee. They knew not to touch anything, evidence.
The police, fire trucks, and an ambulance were there in minutes. All the familiar faces to Michael talking with him about what happened, although, the police knew as well who did it:
"Those fucking Christians!" Dave and Michael bolted out.
A thorough investigation was launched. The necklace had a finger print on the front and it was linked to a female in one of the church's that first started the Sit-in's. They brought her in for questioning. Footprints were found in gasoline, hair follicles were found, finger prints on the building and windows were printed and documented. The whole scene was a smorgasbord for the Crime Scene Investigators.
A week later, Dave and Michael were asked to come down to the police station for a debriefing of all that happened with the evidence collected. It turns out, this was not the work of one church, but six churches: Highview Baptist, Speaking Bush, Wooden Cross, The Holy Shepherd, Floating Ark, and Holy Light Christian.
Over three hundred and thirty-six members of these churches were brought in for questioning on the ill-fated building, and all but five were arrested and awaiting trial on Grand Arson, Breaking and Entering, Fleeing the Scene and many others to be told in court.
After they were told this, Michael and Dave were given what was left of the store's merchandise. Which, sadly was just the jewelry. Nice works of jewelry, however, they wanted the store back. But this was never to be. Dave and Michael took the pieces, split them up between the two and Michael was given a lump sum of money instead of just a paycheck. It was a check for over twenty-thousand dollars. Michael tried to deny the check, but Dave insisted. It was mostly from the estate from the insurance, and the rest from having the building for so long. They both parted the police station, but reconvened at Northwest Park to discuss...plans.
Weeks later, each and every church had fires upon their doorsteps. Nothing too severe, such as, the roof enflamed and crumbling upon the stone in which the church was set upon (too bad though). But just enough to get a taste of revenge, and just enough to put the church's back a large leap of money. Whole corners burnt off, leaving the church victim to people just waltzing in and taking what they wished. A couple chapels will never again be prayed in, statues defaced and idols broken. An eye for an eye, as it says in their bible.
Michael and Dave never said one word to each other about these incidents, and even though the amount of damage was so severe in cost and even though the police knew who the suspects were, the cases were sealed and burnt in a trash can in the basement of the police station: Case closed.
So, feeling horridly for Michael, his parents gave him half of each of their millions, he thanked them, and then left to go find his own calling, his own space, his own little piece of the world.
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Now we return to Michael's rising anticipation, as well as another rising action. He was almost sweating, but his heart was pounding too far in his throat to let him: What will she look like? He thought, over and over again. Will her breasts be clenched by a shirt? Will that beloved bottom of hers be cupped like it properly should?
John went to the door and opened it to a hoorah of Hello's and How are you's? There was Dan, there was Joan: Hello, how are you's exchanged, fine thanks. Then there...there she was, his Autumn Nymph. She was dressed in all black: Ebon Goddess. She was wearing a turtle neck sweater and a different form of her "skants." These had the slit at front and back, not the sides. She even had a pair of black boots. Cut off boots, like those boot shoes you see younger ages wear; Of course, younger, what could I expect? He thought.
Her green eyes flashed in the light that sent fire directly to the core of his soul, her smile lit the hallways of the monks in the cellars of monasteries. Her golden hair, like a torch, leading those who were lost. They paused in the room, and Claire clicked off the television with the remote and closed it with the wooden doors of the entertainment center. Michael stood up and slid his chair back into place.
He went into the garage and nabbed the table extensions which would be necessary, and as he turned around, there she was:
"How was the waterpark?" Michael said rather fast, obviously startled.
"Oh, very fun. I miss the Atlantic Ocean, though." She stared into his eyes. His eyes were glowing to her, the light reflected them in such a startling beauty.
"I know, my beloved. It must be hard." He put his hand to her face. They were in the garage now, out of sight.
"Kiss me..." She said in a hot whisper.
"What?" Michael asked.
"Do it, and do it now!" She said faster, "I have been waiting for you, for days, now do it!" She clutched onto his thin shirt, her nails scratched his skin. She was like a fiend. A succubus for the kiss. Her mouth moaning in silence for it.
Michael moved her out of the doorway. He put down the extensions, picked her up and pinned her against the wall lightly. Her face to his face, her mouth latched onto his like she would perish if she had resisted any longer. Fibers in their lips were sparking. Their tongues were like lava swimming and mixing together; Heated, spirals, one motion.
Her legs wrapped over his body, locking at the ankles. Her hands swimming through his hair. His left hand sinks down and grabs that beautiful round bottom, squeeze. A little laughter from her between their mouths, the kiss continues. Michael's ears perked up; They were coming back into the living room.
He set Tammy down despite her whimpers, and grabbed the extensions for the table. The fear of being caught shrunk their blushes down to barely noticeable. They walked out of the door:
"Look at the happy couple!" Dan said smiling.
Michael tried to look confused.
"You look like a Gothic match in..in..wherever." Joan said smiling.
Tammy blushed and smiled.
Michael tried to act like a regular male and shirk off the attention by unlocking and opening the table to place in the extensions.
All extensions fit perfectly, as he knew they would. He got the extra chairs from the garage, as well, then closed the door. As soon as he placed all the chairs, he offered a seat to Joan, then Dan, Tammy stood right by him, she could count. She counted five chairs, not six. John sat down and then Claire went to go get dinner. Michael sat down, opposite his father, at the other end of the table:
"Oh drat, only five chairs!" Claire said.
"No worries!" Tammy proclaimed and jumped into Michael's lap. He was surprised, in more ways than one.
Everyone laughed at how cute Tammy was being.
"Do you mind if your girl sits on your lap...of course not, I didn't think so." Asked, or well, stated his father with laughter as he rose to gather the plates and silverware.
Michael leaned over and pulled napkins out of the drawer behind him. He handed them to Tammy and she placed them before her parents and before Michael, then Joan's seat, and then got up to go put it at John's seat. Thank you's were said all around. Tammy returned to her throne: Michael's lap.
She felt it as if she sat on water with stone at the bottom of a pool: His cock, throbbing. Every once and awhile, he would clench the muscle to make it throb against her bottom, sending back the chills into her spine.
The lasagna was placed down one plate at a time. Garlic bread, meat balls, cheese balls, the works. They waited for Claire to sit:
"Oh, no, not yet, what will you all have to drink?" Claire asked wiping her hands. Michael said, "Excuse me, dear, I must help my mother."
To which Claire said: "You leave your girlfriend be! I'm fine!" And she smiled. Tammy repositioned, by which she rubbed her ass against his cock to "find her comfortable spot." They all laughed, except for Michael. Michael's cock was hurting him so bad, he wanted to fuck her...now...Right next to the cheese balls and plates of lasagna.
Everyone chose water to drink. Which made it more easy for clear access. Water was now placed before them all, and she sat down to join after taking her apron off. Another thing that the Dannick's and Weiss' had in common? They were not religious. Instead of saying Grace of some prayer, they talked about their day, and then began to eat.
Parmesan cheese was passed around with the mozzarella sauce. Such good foods. Such fine people. Such a fine specimen of a defiled virgin, upon Michael's lap, silently begging him for more. He could swear he could smell her. Smell her vaginal secretions, that is. He could feel her wetness upon his flesh although layers of clothes prevented this. Tonight. It's happening again tonight, he declared loudly in his head. If not, I'm going to blow my load in these pants as I sit here.
When no one was noticing, Tammy rocked her hips against his lap and curved her back so that her ass looked so ripe that if his cock was inside it, it would deflate or spoil. In the ass...now that sounds good, Michael turned his head and grinned. Maybe later, her pussy was his tonight. That little pussy...stop, or else I'll be sitting in my own sperm, he told himself. Flash of his sperm across her face. Flash of her choking. On her tits. Drops that dripped on top of her Snow White picture on her panties.
Dinner. Focus on dinner. So he did. And it was delicious.
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After dinner was over, they were all sitting on the couches and drinking a lot of water so as to help with digestion. Thank you's again were said around. Claire blushed and said: "Prego!" Which was Italian for "You're Welcome!"
Tammy had to think and act fast. Or else she'd be talking all about her day with old folks and be stuck cutsey wootseying with Michael instead of doing it with Michael:
"Mikey..." Tammy said in almost a baby voice.
"Yes?" He answered strongly, to hide the sincerity.
"Can you watch the 'Little Mermaid' with me at my house?" She pouted. And we all know what that got Michael into.
"Awww, that is so cute!" Claire and Joan said.
"You two run along! This moment is so sweet, I'm getting two cavities!" Dan said with laughter.
"I shall return when she falls asleep, sir." Michael said, being as it was 10:30 p.m.
"Don't worry about it, Mike. If you get tired, you can sleep over at our place. It's not a problem. Shoot, this house ONLY has two guest rooms." Dan laughed.
"I thank you, sir."
"Call me Dan, man, it's not that hard!" More laughter.
"Alright, Dan." Michael felt awkward. He had always called people who were years ahead of him, sir or ma'am.
They departed.
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Tammy was a walking bundle of excitement:
"Do ya wanna do it doggy style?!" She asked in an almost too loud voice.
"Keep your voice down, I don't know what we will do." He said, looking about.
"Oh please! Everyone's in bed, Mr. Worrywart!" She laughed.
In the house, straight upstairs, Tammy's room, door open.
Not even a god could have kept Tammy from jaggedly pulling her pants down. They were down in less than three seconds. And lo and behold; a screaming red thong. She turned around and bent down:
"You like it, baby?" She looked at him upside down, like she was the center, him the quarterback.
Michael was too stunned for words.
"Well, tell me, God of Fuck!"
"Where did you hear that term?" Michael asked.
"Well, I thought I made it up, why?" She looked defeated for not being original. Oh well.
"Old band I used to like a song with that in it." He shrugged.
"So you can think of old music, but not my thong, my ass?" She looked almost pissed.
"I'm stunned for words, my little goddess of the bed." He said as he touched the round cheeks of her ass with his finger tips.
"That's right Michael, touch me, explore me." She moaned.
This sent a cold lightning bolt through his stomach.
"Where..did you.." He stammered.
"My friend Rachel bought it for me. She's like, fifteen some, and has my waist size." She put her elbows on her dresser which made her ass round out like it did at the table.
Shrills and chills through both of them.
"Michael..."
"Yes, my lover?"
"How does it feel..."
"It feels soft, very soft."
"No...I mean...how does it feel...in the asshole?" She turned and looked at him. She leaned her back against the dresser and looked into his eyes.
"Well, I like it." He said slowly. Yes, Michael was bisexual. But all his boyfriends fit into the stereotypical category of either: Ultra Butch, or Ultra Flamer. He only had one true male lover, and he moved away half a year ago. Felt like ages.
"You take it in the butt?!" She said shocked.
"Yes, I do. I'm bisexual."
"You can't be! No! You did it with me! That makes y--"
"Are you thinking homosexual? That means only men for men, and women for women." He said to stop her from yelling.
".......Oh. So, what you like boys and girls?" She asked softly.
"Yes, and I like anal sex...err, up the butt. It feels very good." He smiled.
She turned around and stuck her ass out again:
"Do it with me, up my butt!" She declared.
"Are you sure?" He said excitedly.
"Yes!" She said looking at him in the mirror of the dresser.
The mirror, this could be trouble, Michael thought as he just now noticed it. But trouble, in a good way. He grinned.
All the clothes were on a pile on the floor. Tammy got in the position of elbows on the dresser and Michael got behind her:
"Wait."
"Put it in my butt! No waiting!" Tammy whimpered.
"No, I need to get some lotion. Anal sex without it hurts sometimes."
"Oh...Sex Genius!" She smiled.
"Yes I am!" He declared proudly.
Michael polished lotion onto his thick and lengthened member. He then put some on his finger tip and put it on Tammy's anal opening. She jumped and giggled at the cold lotion pressed to her hole.
"OK, my Anal Queen, we're ready."
"Yesss!" She declared and took her position.
"This might hurt, I must warn you." He said calmly.
"Well, doing it hurts, but it feels better too, so, go ahead, you can do it with me, I want you to do anything to me." She now lay her chest and face against the dresser top like a doll bent over a chair, almost as if she was praying. More dirty thoughts came into Michael's head about that one.
"Relax your butt-hole, Tammy. Like nothing is going to happen."
"OK..."
"Now, push out with it."
"Like I'm trying to--"
"Yes, exactly."
"OK..."
Michael grabbed her round cheeks and spread them. Her hole with the lotion lined on her anal walls, and on the outside. He put his head to the opening.
"Why am I trying to poop, if something is coming in?" She asked and looked at him with the mirror.
"You'll see..." He lined himself up with her little hole.
"...Why--" She was cut off with a sudden throb of pleasure and pain. Michael had thrust his cock one inch inside her.
Tammy tried to grip the polished furniture:
"Oh my fuck--GOD DAMNIT!" She said in raised whisper.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"Ye--NO! All the way! Let me feel you like this!" She said, "All the way up my butt, push in my butt-hole!" She clenched her eyes.
This made Michael feel really old, but he was getting used to her terminology.
He did as she commanded and push every last of the nine inches inside. Her eyes shot open and she clenched her teeth tight. She was riding his cock by twirling her ass around and around. "Squeeze my cock, baby." Michael said. Tammy clenched her anal walls to cramp around his cock. They both moaned and twitched with extreme pleasure. Her legs were like Jell-O fifty feet in the air, so wavy, so unable to keep her balance. Michael's hands tightened on her hips so that she would not fall.
Michael gripped her shoulders and pushed deeper inside her, then slid out, then back inside. He was pumping her ass and she was on the edge of screaming. "Keep it quiet, baby" Michael asked softly. "OK, OH MY GU--" She was riding him harder and his testicles were rubbing against her little peach which was driving her, and him insane.
Michael couldn't take the heat from her ass, and she couldn't take having waited so long. Michael came deep within her tight walls, and she came from thinking about him, and his balls rubbing against her. His cock sluiced away in pleasure. They wailed with whispered moans and gripped at each other's body. Tammy reached around and road his cock, even still. Michael didn't protest; The semen made it a much more smoother ride. Tammy then whispered something that made Michael feel dirty, and highly sexual at the same time:
"Oh daddy, do it in my butt. Do it again daddy..." She stared into his eyes in the mirror and he clasped her hips and pushed deeper. Her eyes never leaving his, she said it again: "Daddy, oh daddy." He came the very last he could inside her ass, then slid out, grabbed her and they lay on the bed. Tammy laid Mike on his back, she mounted him and then slid him back inside her throbbing bottom.
This time, facing him, she leaned back and grabbed his ankles. Jiving on his cock, still whispering it: "Daddy, ooooh daddy, yessss daddy." Michael felt a tinge of pain in his cock, but he was cumming again. So much erotica at one time, overload. Now, Tammy rode him until she took him out and collapsed on his chest. He held her close. Sweat ridden, they caught breath.
"Why did you call me daddy?" Michael asked. He feared the worst.
"Rachel told me all guys like it. It's what the 'adult world' calls a 'turn on" She said innocently enough.
Whew, crisis averted.
Michael pulled her knees to bend on both sides. Tammy cooed and snuggled her face into the sweat of his chest. She put her arms under his shoulders. Michael kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her tightly:
"I love you, Tammy." He whispered.
"I love you, Michael." She whispered.
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It must have been an hour before Michael heard their voices outside; All the parents. They were just outside discussing politics and how Bush was riding this country into the dirt. How no one respected the US That Tony Blair was George Bush's prison bitch (and that you can only suck for so long). Michael woke his Sleeping Beauty:
"Baby, they're outside. Get some clothes on, I'm going to the bathroom. I'm going to jet downstairs and turn on the television."
Groggily, she woke up:
"No, don't leave me. Please? Just lay here, naked, with me, you're little lover." She gave him the look: Which was a pout, and sexy stare combination.
"I can't, you know this." He said as he gathered his clothes.
"Give me the thong, I have to hide it in my Barbie house." She pointed to it. Screaming red thong amidst black clothes...Not too difficult to find. It was like to ask someone "Find Richard Simmons on a farm." Not hard.
Michael handed it to her, and with speed, put his clothes on. He left his boots off and took them downstairs, but not before a kiss from his love.
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Dan and Joan came into the house and Michael was watching CNN. George Bush was on the screen:
"Egad! Speak of the devil!" Both Joan and Dan said.
Michael laughed.
"So how's Tammy, is she sleeping?" Dan asked.
"She went upstairs a while ago to find the Little Mermaid. Said that it was lost." Michael pieced together quickly.
"I don't know how that child loses anything, she keeps that room so damn spotless!" Joan said.
They all laughed.
"My house is almost always speck free and spotless." Michael declared.
"Where is your house, by the way?" Joan asked eagerly.
"Just off 2222, up in the hills off of MoPac (this is one of the busiest streets in Austin, reader)." He said without missing a beat. He loved his house. He loved his spot of the world.
"Is it always busy up there?" asked Dan.
"Not really, it's on the very top of that hill. You have to go quite a ways and curved roads slow everyone down. It's, like I said, on the top, so you have to drive for some time, and you have a lot of choices of roads to take. One leads you way down hill, and the other leads you way up top, where I am." He said with his right arm reclined on the back table, as he gave them both all the attention. He even clicked off the television without looking, or stammering.
Tammy came down. Know the lie I said...Michael wished he could push it into her skull himself:
"I found it Mikey!" Tammy waved the DVD. She was wearing a light pink gown that went down to her shins. So beautiful.
"Oh God, it's on DVD?" Michael asked in shock, "I remember when that came into theatres, I was barely six years old!"
Tammy laughed, "Well get up here and watch it with me silly!" She giggled.
They all four laughed.
"Pardon me, I am being called upon." Michael said as he dismissed himself.
"Alright you two! No jumping on the bed!" Joan said laughing.
Oh, no jumping, just fucking, will do. Thanks. Michael thought.
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It was now some two and a half hours after the third defiling of Tammy Weiss. They put in the DVD and put up the volume so that it could be heard downstairs, barely. So as to throw off suspicion, or what parents love to do, sneak up and creep in with that "what are you doing" type manner. The movie began with the mermaids swimming to the great hearing.
Michael laid down on her bed, with his back against the headboard, his feet locked at the ankles. Tammy unlocked his ankles and laid between his legs with her back against his stomach and crotch. Non-sexual looking enough for both to enjoy each other's company without the shock of parents.
Joan came in to watch the first few minutes with them to see if they needed anything. She "aww'ed" and "ooooh'ed" at how "cute" they were together. She grabbed the digital camera and took a picture, to which they both approved, being so vain.
As Joan left to go show Dan, Tammy quickly turned around and unzipped Michael's zipper:
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"Shhh!" She said.
Michael gave up any means to fight. He was out-manned. She had sexiness, cuteness, devilishness, fiendish qualities working for her, with all a child's heartfelt demanding.
Joan came in, smiled and sat down on one of Tammy's miniature chairs. Tammy reached behind and slid her hand into Michael's pants so slowly that not even if you were up close, could you hear the movement. She took out his cock and began rubbing it, squeezing, stroking. Her eyes were on Joan like a hawk.
Because of all the food, Joan began to get sleepy within just thirty minutes of the movie. By that time, Tammy had her hand out of his pants and was faking enjoyment of the movie. She had seen it so many times it wasn't funny.
Joan awoke with a start, apologized for her outburst and dismissed herself from the room. Tammy crept over to the door to make sure her mother's room door was closed, it was cracked. Well, shit, no playing around. Tammy thought.
She climbed back onto Michael, and all of a sudden, he gripped her like the imaginary monster in the darkness everyone fears about. He pulled up her gown so that it fit underneath her chin like a cushion. He stroked her breasts, squeezed them, then caressed her pink panties:
"Her door is cracked! We can't!" She said in a hushed whisper.
"Like hell we can't. That's the whole fun of it; Possibly getting caught!" He said like a snake in the dark. Heated breath curling off his tongue.
Tammy gave up. She was outnumbered. He had sexiness, masculinity, fiendishness, devilishness, and strength qualities, with all a grown man's desire.
Michael tugged down his pants, and then tugged down her panties. He put his cock inside her panties, then his testicles. He slid panties over them as his firm cock rested against her clit. Her lips parted on both sides of this rod. She moaned softly. Michael covered her mouth with his left hand. He clamped her legs on his cock, and it was held firmly against her clit. Her rose her body up and down and she bit his finger playfully; Eyes closed, teeth on his skin lightly pressing down. She could see the head of his cock poking the front of her panties. She arched her back and his hands shot to her little tits.
He squeezed them and then, as he did, she shot her hands in her panties and curved his cock and put him inside her. Always a hard position, but Michael could manage. She held his cock firmly inside her as he ripped open the sore flesh that sought to heal. Tinge of pain for Tammy, but a moan escaped instead. Michael moaned like a madman of whispers into her ear. She was going insane with pleasure, insane with pain. She reached back and grabbed the headboard rim, hands clenched. She wanted desperately to scream, but she couldn't.
Tammy leant forward and rode his cock like her fantasies. She grabbed the foot board and bounced onto his cock as if, as if she needed his cum to survive. Sweat was coming from the both of them as the bed almost made sounds of groaning itself. Tammy's eyes rolled in the back of her head and she clenched her legs together and her peach came and came all over Michael's cock and all over his thighs. Her legs spread so wide, not even Moses could have controlled this sea.
She was gushing vaginal secretions, as well as some traces of blood. Luckily his pants were farther down his legs. He leaned up and grabbed her tits again and she twisted in his lap. She rocked her hips on his cock. She leaned her head back and licked his cheek: "Cum for me, daddy."
Michael's eyes fluttered and he spurt deep inside her like he was to put out the fire within her body with his white flooding avalanche. Tammy was tossing her hair back and rowing her hips to a bigger climax. Gritting her teeth and clenching her cunt, she was snarling for the pleasure. Their bodies were slapping so hard, their privies must have been bruised and swollen.
They slowed down and like drugged animals climbed off the bed and whipped off on the towels of all traces of semen, vaginal secretions, and blood. No showers this time, so Michael got a cold wet rag from the bathroom (after straightening his attire) with a cup of water.
He laid Tammy on her back, lifted up her panties and twisted the rag so that water rushed into her love hole. She gasped at this, but it felt so good. He did the same to the opening of her bottom. Poured the water in. More gasps. Then, he whipped her dry, left the cup by the bed in case of midnight burnings. Pulled up her panties and pull back down her nightgown to her shins. Her put his arm under her head, his other under the bends of her knees, picked her up, then put her in the middle of the bed. She was already asleep in his arms. His left arm under her head, and with his right he pulled up the sheets and bed spread. He moved his left arm and her head rested on the pillows. She cooed in her sleep: "Michael." He kissed her lips, then her forehead. He tucked her in, then turned on the fan for her and headed downstairs to go sleep on the couch.
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Minutes passed like crippling hours. Each second like an epoch, counting and counting until finally; Doorbell. Instead of throwing himself back to run to get the door, Michael waited. His palms open on the square wooden table. Everything seemed so minuscule, so tedious compared to the one at his parent's door. Thinking of what she would look like; Would she have a tan? Would she be sun burnt, oh I hope not, he thought sincerely?
You see, Michael was a person who used to be in the sun for quite a large amount of time when he was little. But when he entered Middle School, he focused all his attentions to music, art, and sometimes, his studies. He would stay inside and only go out with his parents to go eat at some restaurant. So many restaurants, so much money they had. But we shall return to that later.
Michael stayed indoors to the point where his skin is now; Pale. Like a tinted alabaster. So when he ever does go outside for more than thirty minutes to an hour, instead of his skin tanning, he roasts. His skin doesn't give him any warning, he will be fine one moment, then be crisp in a flash of flesh. He would drive around town with his parents, and at any time that his exposed flesh be touched by sunlight, it was like a slap on the skin. It hurt like needles and pins. So this is why he almost always wears sunscreen on a day to day basis.
As far as money, Michael's parents came from rich parents. So of course, the money was bequeathed to them during the event of their parent's death. Millions were put into their bank accounts when the final parent died on both sides. But growing ever tired of flashy, and mansionesc homes, the parens retired to a little house of their very own. They grew Michael up this way so that he would appreciate the value of a dollar, or if it should come down to it, the value of a quarter. Although, he would never have to worry about such grotesqueness. Because his parents would naturally take care of him.
When Michael was graduated from High School, they asked him what he would like to do. He proposed to get an honest job, and then get enough money to move out on his own. His parents were of course, touched by his sincerity of his heart. When he just turned eighteen he got the job he wanted; Working at a vintage clothing retail store, called "Onyx Treasure Box." If you took the 1920s, and invitrofertilized it with Hot Topic and Spencer's, then intravenously put in some Victoria's Secret, this would be the outcome.
It was a sex store, and occult store, it was a clothing store. It was a vintage store, it was a jewelry store. It was everything to Michael. Nothing could be better than to wake up and actually enjoy going to work. Things were piecing for Michael quite fine until the Right-Winged over zealous Christians and Baptists heard of this store.
They sent out messages of boycotts, sit-in boycotts, to down right hounding Michael for simply working "in such a filth ridden, Satan infested swamp of sin." It wasn't a "swamp of sin," it was a store. No swamps around for miles, he would tell them smiling. Things would get heated when the Sit-in's would occur. Michael would ask them, why be there, if they hated such a place? "Don't you have books to burn and a bonfire to get started?" He asked them one day. To which they would reply; "Sinner!"
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They would read scriptures in their bible aloud to the customers, which, pissed Michael off so much, but, he had to ask them to stop, until the customer felt "harassed." Michael asked the poor woman looking at the thongs: "Ma'am, do you feel harassed?" To which she replied: "Yes, I feel down right persecuted!" Michael called the cops.
The cops came and made every member of the group leave. They were charged with: Loitering, Harassment, Defamation of Character, Obstruction, Separation of Church and State and many other well deserved fines. But one member ran towards Michael and clasped at his shirt. Michael already had his hand on the pepperspray under the counter. Michael sprayed this idiot with almost every drop in the little can. Michael was snarling, then grinning at the fool Christian's pain.
The Christian went up to the officer and told him to arrest Michael. To which, Michael replied: "What you did was Assault and Battery, and I have the right to defend myself under such an attack." He then smiled as the Christian was squinting his eyes. The Christian man looked at the police officer, and the officer smiled at Michael, saluted him for "job well done" then handcuffed the man. Michael had to say it: "Oh, the burning, it must be HELL for you." Michael and the officer both shared an amazing moment of hilarity. But unfortunately, where there is one, there is more. The Christians are the biggest gang in America, there will be more. Michael knew this, he just had to wait.
More Sit-in's. More protests, more near-riot situations, more arrests. "Onyx Treasure Box" was now on ten different schedules for the police. Every fifteen minutes a car would drive slowly by to investigate. Business never really suffered, the Christians were merely an insect to flesh. An irritant. That's all they are, and all they will be, Michael said in disgust to the officers that would come in to see how he was holding up. Most would agree, and some would merely say: "Not all are this way, these are just the retards of the group." A police officer was to visit the store every hour on the hour. Undercover would do no good, the Christians had to see the presence of the police in order to know Michael was not playing around. The store owner asked if Michael needed more people to work with him on his shift, and he merely said: "Possibly to keep the shop lifters at bay." Michael feared nothing. The only thing he feared was getting fired. And since business was more than good with his personality, and the fact that the store owner and he were drinking buddies, that wasn't going to happen any time soon.
In just a few short weeks, "Onyx Treasure Box" was on top of every church's Hit-List. Michael was subject to many off-hour verbal attacks. Michael contorted an old Christian saying: "Get thee behind me, Satan," into "Get them behind me, Satan." He told this to each one, and each one became more livid. He would use their own scriptures against them, such as one that says, "Where the word is not wanted, you must walk away." This made them even more enraged like baboons with crosses and holy water. I guess their spiritual stocks are down, so they must attack me to prevent too much of a plummet, Michael thought to himself.
Anyone who touched him, Michael would send a punch flying toward them so fast they would land on the ground on their backs. They would not report Michael doing this, because the police are on Michael's side; anyone that harasses Michael, spends at least one night in jail. The women, however, Michael would simply spit on or say something extremely blasphemous. If they hit him, he would hit back. His mother taught him to be blind when someone attacks you. It is animalistic nature to survive, and humans are animals, she would say. Some would walk away, some would watch at far distances.
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The attacks and antics stopped for a while. Everyone was happy; The police, Michael, Dave (the store owner, who was thirty-five), customers, everyone. Michael picked up, Dave, one day in the early hours of sunlight, and drove to work. But upon getting a few blocks away from "Onyx," they saw billows of smoke. Michael's foot clamped down on the accelerator and they drove off of Shoal Creek Blvd. to see "Onyx Treasure Box" in flames. From corner to corner, singed and crumbling.
Michael and Dave shot out of Michael's Grand Am and fell to their knees just a few yards from the main entrance. Tears welled in their eyes like the dam about to burst. They knew. They knew who did this. For "Onyx" was up to fire code, up to safety code, up to every book and stitch code there could be about safety. Oh they knew, and they grew incensed with so much anger, they both got up, wiped their tears and began plots. They began searching around the store and found a gas can with remnants of gas on the walls. They also found a cross necklace that looked as if it was broken off in a chance to flee. They knew not to touch anything, evidence.
The police, fire trucks, and an ambulance were there in minutes. All the familiar faces to Michael talking with him about what happened, although, the police knew as well who did it:
"Those fucking Christians!" Dave and Michael bolted out.
A thorough investigation was launched. The necklace had a finger print on the front and it was linked to a female in one of the church's that first started the Sit-in's. They brought her in for questioning. Footprints were found in gasoline, hair follicles were found, finger prints on the building and windows were printed and documented. The whole scene was a smorgasbord for the Crime Scene Investigators.
A week later, Dave and Michael were asked to come down to the police station for a debriefing of all that happened with the evidence collected. It turns out, this was not the work of one church, but six churches: Highview Baptist, Speaking Bush, Wooden Cross, The Holy Shepherd, Floating Ark, and Holy Light Christian.
Over three hundred and thirty-six members of these churches were brought in for questioning on the ill-fated building, and all but five were arrested and awaiting trial on Grand Arson, Breaking and Entering, Fleeing the Scene and many others to be told in court.
After they were told this, Michael and Dave were given what was left of the store's merchandise. Which, sadly was just the jewelry. Nice works of jewelry, however, they wanted the store back. But this was never to be. Dave and Michael took the pieces, split them up between the two and Michael was given a lump sum of money instead of just a paycheck. It was a check for over twenty-thousand dollars. Michael tried to deny the check, but Dave insisted. It was mostly from the estate from the insurance, and the rest from having the building for so long. They both parted the police station, but reconvened at Northwest Park to discuss...plans.
Weeks later, each and every church had fires upon their doorsteps. Nothing too severe, such as, the roof enflamed and crumbling upon the stone in which the church was set upon (too bad though). But just enough to get a taste of revenge, and just enough to put the church's back a large leap of money. Whole corners burnt off, leaving the church victim to people just waltzing in and taking what they wished. A couple chapels will never again be prayed in, statues defaced and idols broken. An eye for an eye, as it says in their bible.
Michael and Dave never said one word to each other about these incidents, and even though the amount of damage was so severe in cost and even though the police knew who the suspects were, the cases were sealed and burnt in a trash can in the basement of the police station: Case closed.
So, feeling horridly for Michael, his parents gave him half of each of their millions, he thanked them, and then left to go find his own calling, his own space, his own little piece of the world.
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Now we return to Michael's rising anticipation, as well as another rising action. He was almost sweating, but his heart was pounding too far in his throat to let him: What will she look like? He thought, over and over again. Will her breasts be clenched by a shirt? Will that beloved bottom of hers be cupped like it properly should?
John went to the door and opened it to a hoorah of Hello's and How are you's? There was Dan, there was Joan: Hello, how are you's exchanged, fine thanks. Then there...there she was, his Autumn Nymph. She was dressed in all black: Ebon Goddess. She was wearing a turtle neck sweater and a different form of her "skants." These had the slit at front and back, not the sides. She even had a pair of black boots. Cut off boots, like those boot shoes you see younger ages wear; Of course, younger, what could I expect? He thought.
Her green eyes flashed in the light that sent fire directly to the core of his soul, her smile lit the hallways of the monks in the cellars of monasteries. Her golden hair, like a torch, leading those who were lost. They paused in the room, and Claire clicked off the television with the remote and closed it with the wooden doors of the entertainment center. Michael stood up and slid his chair back into place.
He went into the garage and nabbed the table extensions which would be necessary, and as he turned around, there she was:
"How was the waterpark?" Michael said rather fast, obviously startled.
"Oh, very fun. I miss the Atlantic Ocean, though." She stared into his eyes. His eyes were glowing to her, the light reflected them in such a startling beauty.
"I know, my beloved. It must be hard." He put his hand to her face. They were in the garage now, out of sight.
"Kiss me..." She said in a hot whisper.
"What?" Michael asked.
"Do it, and do it now!" She said faster, "I have been waiting for you, for days, now do it!" She clutched onto his thin shirt, her nails scratched his skin. She was like a fiend. A succubus for the kiss. Her mouth moaning in silence for it.
Michael moved her out of the doorway. He put down the extensions, picked her up and pinned her against the wall lightly. Her face to his face, her mouth latched onto his like she would perish if she had resisted any longer. Fibers in their lips were sparking. Their tongues were like lava swimming and mixing together; Heated, spirals, one motion.
Her legs wrapped over his body, locking at the ankles. Her hands swimming through his hair. His left hand sinks down and grabs that beautiful round bottom, squeeze. A little laughter from her between their mouths, the kiss continues. Michael's ears perked up; They were coming back into the living room.
He set Tammy down despite her whimpers, and grabbed the extensions for the table. The fear of being caught shrunk their blushes down to barely noticeable. They walked out of the door:
"Look at the happy couple!" Dan said smiling.
Michael tried to look confused.
"You look like a Gothic match in..in..wherever." Joan said smiling.
Tammy blushed and smiled.
Michael tried to act like a regular male and shirk off the attention by unlocking and opening the table to place in the extensions.
All extensions fit perfectly, as he knew they would. He got the extra chairs from the garage, as well, then closed the door. As soon as he placed all the chairs, he offered a seat to Joan, then Dan, Tammy stood right by him, she could count. She counted five chairs, not six. John sat down and then Claire went to go get dinner. Michael sat down, opposite his father, at the other end of the table:
"Oh drat, only five chairs!" Claire said.
"No worries!" Tammy proclaimed and jumped into Michael's lap. He was surprised, in more ways than one.
Everyone laughed at how cute Tammy was being.
"Do you mind if your girl sits on your lap...of course not, I didn't think so." Asked, or well, stated his father with laughter as he rose to gather the plates and silverware.
Michael leaned over and pulled napkins out of the drawer behind him. He handed them to Tammy and she placed them before her parents and before Michael, then Joan's seat, and then got up to go put it at John's seat. Thank you's were said all around. Tammy returned to her throne: Michael's lap.
She felt it as if she sat on water with stone at the bottom of a pool: His cock, throbbing. Every once and awhile, he would clench the muscle to make it throb against her bottom, sending back the chills into her spine.
The lasagna was placed down one plate at a time. Garlic bread, meat balls, cheese balls, the works. They waited for Claire to sit:
"Oh, no, not yet, what will you all have to drink?" Claire asked wiping her hands. Michael said, "Excuse me, dear, I must help my mother."
To which Claire said: "You leave your girlfriend be! I'm fine!" And she smiled. Tammy repositioned, by which she rubbed her ass against his cock to "find her comfortable spot." They all laughed, except for Michael. Michael's cock was hurting him so bad, he wanted to fuck her...now...Right next to the cheese balls and plates of lasagna.
Everyone chose water to drink. Which made it more easy for clear access. Water was now placed before them all, and she sat down to join after taking her apron off. Another thing that the Dannick's and Weiss' had in common? They were not religious. Instead of saying Grace of some prayer, they talked about their day, and then began to eat.
Parmesan cheese was passed around with the mozzarella sauce. Such good foods. Such fine people. Such a fine specimen of a defiled virgin, upon Michael's lap, silently begging him for more. He could swear he could smell her. Smell her vaginal secretions, that is. He could feel her wetness upon his flesh although layers of clothes prevented this. Tonight. It's happening again tonight, he declared loudly in his head. If not, I'm going to blow my load in these pants as I sit here.
When no one was noticing, Tammy rocked her hips against his lap and curved her back so that her ass looked so ripe that if his cock was inside it, it would deflate or spoil. In the ass...now that sounds good, Michael turned his head and grinned. Maybe later, her pussy was his tonight. That little pussy...stop, or else I'll be sitting in my own sperm, he told himself. Flash of his sperm across her face. Flash of her choking. On her tits. Drops that dripped on top of her Snow White picture on her panties.
Dinner. Focus on dinner. So he did. And it was delicious.
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After dinner was over, they were all sitting on the couches and drinking a lot of water so as to help with digestion. Thank you's again were said around. Claire blushed and said: "Prego!" Which was Italian for "You're Welcome!"
Tammy had to think and act fast. Or else she'd be talking all about her day with old folks and be stuck cutsey wootseying with Michael instead of doing it with Michael:
"Mikey..." Tammy said in almost a baby voice.
"Yes?" He answered strongly, to hide the sincerity.
"Can you watch the 'Little Mermaid' with me at my house?" She pouted. And we all know what that got Michael into.
"Awww, that is so cute!" Claire and Joan said.
"You two run along! This moment is so sweet, I'm getting two cavities!" Dan said with laughter.
"I shall return when she falls asleep, sir." Michael said, being as it was 10:30 p.m.
"Don't worry about it, Mike. If you get tired, you can sleep over at our place. It's not a problem. Shoot, this house ONLY has two guest rooms." Dan laughed.
"I thank you, sir."
"Call me Dan, man, it's not that hard!" More laughter.
"Alright, Dan." Michael felt awkward. He had always called people who were years ahead of him, sir or ma'am.
They departed.
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Tammy was a walking bundle of excitement:
"Do ya wanna do it doggy style?!" She asked in an almost too loud voice.
"Keep your voice down, I don't know what we will do." He said, looking about.
"Oh please! Everyone's in bed, Mr. Worrywart!" She laughed.
In the house, straight upstairs, Tammy's room, door open.
Not even a god could have kept Tammy from jaggedly pulling her pants down. They were down in less than three seconds. And lo and behold; a screaming red thong. She turned around and bent down:
"You like it, baby?" She looked at him upside down, like she was the center, him the quarterback.
Michael was too stunned for words.
"Well, tell me, God of Fuck!"
"Where did you hear that term?" Michael asked.
"Well, I thought I made it up, why?" She looked defeated for not being original. Oh well.
"Old band I used to like a song with that in it." He shrugged.
"So you can think of old music, but not my thong, my ass?" She looked almost pissed.
"I'm stunned for words, my little goddess of the bed." He said as he touched the round cheeks of her ass with his finger tips.
"That's right Michael, touch me, explore me." She moaned.
This sent a cold lightning bolt through his stomach.
"Where..did you.." He stammered.
"My friend Rachel bought it for me. She's like, fifteen some, and has my waist size." She put her elbows on her dresser which made her ass round out like it did at the table.
Shrills and chills through both of them.
"Michael..."
"Yes, my lover?"
"How does it feel..."
"It feels soft, very soft."
"No...I mean...how does it feel...in the asshole?" She turned and looked at him. She leaned her back against the dresser and looked into his eyes.
"Well, I like it." He said slowly. Yes, Michael was bisexual. But all his boyfriends fit into the stereotypical category of either: Ultra Butch, or Ultra Flamer. He only had one true male lover, and he moved away half a year ago. Felt like ages.
"You take it in the butt?!" She said shocked.
"Yes, I do. I'm bisexual."
"You can't be! No! You did it with me! That makes y--"
"Are you thinking homosexual? That means only men for men, and women for women." He said to stop her from yelling.
".......Oh. So, what you like boys and girls?" She asked softly.
"Yes, and I like anal sex...err, up the butt. It feels very good." He smiled.
She turned around and stuck her ass out again:
"Do it with me, up my butt!" She declared.
"Are you sure?" He said excitedly.
"Yes!" She said looking at him in the mirror of the dresser.
The mirror, this could be trouble, Michael thought as he just now noticed it. But trouble, in a good way. He grinned.
All the clothes were on a pile on the floor. Tammy got in the position of elbows on the dresser and Michael got behind her:
"Wait."
"Put it in my butt! No waiting!" Tammy whimpered.
"No, I need to get some lotion. Anal sex without it hurts sometimes."
"Oh...Sex Genius!" She smiled.
"Yes I am!" He declared proudly.
Michael polished lotion onto his thick and lengthened member. He then put some on his finger tip and put it on Tammy's anal opening. She jumped and giggled at the cold lotion pressed to her hole.
"OK, my Anal Queen, we're ready."
"Yesss!" She declared and took her position.
"This might hurt, I must warn you." He said calmly.
"Well, doing it hurts, but it feels better too, so, go ahead, you can do it with me, I want you to do anything to me." She now lay her chest and face against the dresser top like a doll bent over a chair, almost as if she was praying. More dirty thoughts came into Michael's head about that one.
"Relax your butt-hole, Tammy. Like nothing is going to happen."
"OK..."
"Now, push out with it."
"Like I'm trying to--"
"Yes, exactly."
"OK..."
Michael grabbed her round cheeks and spread them. Her hole with the lotion lined on her anal walls, and on the outside. He put his head to the opening.
"Why am I trying to poop, if something is coming in?" She asked and looked at him with the mirror.
"You'll see..." He lined himself up with her little hole.
"...Why--" She was cut off with a sudden throb of pleasure and pain. Michael had thrust his cock one inch inside her.
Tammy tried to grip the polished furniture:
"Oh my fuck--GOD DAMNIT!" She said in raised whisper.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"Ye--NO! All the way! Let me feel you like this!" She said, "All the way up my butt, push in my butt-hole!" She clenched her eyes.
This made Michael feel really old, but he was getting used to her terminology.
He did as she commanded and push every last of the nine inches inside. Her eyes shot open and she clenched her teeth tight. She was riding his cock by twirling her ass around and around. "Squeeze my cock, baby." Michael said. Tammy clenched her anal walls to cramp around his cock. They both moaned and twitched with extreme pleasure. Her legs were like Jell-O fifty feet in the air, so wavy, so unable to keep her balance. Michael's hands tightened on her hips so that she would not fall.
Michael gripped her shoulders and pushed deeper inside her, then slid out, then back inside. He was pumping her ass and she was on the edge of screaming. "Keep it quiet, baby" Michael asked softly. "OK, OH MY GU--" She was riding him harder and his testicles were rubbing against her little peach which was driving her, and him insane.
Michael couldn't take the heat from her ass, and she couldn't take having waited so long. Michael came deep within her tight walls, and she came from thinking about him, and his balls rubbing against her. His cock sluiced away in pleasure. They wailed with whispered moans and gripped at each other's body. Tammy reached around and road his cock, even still. Michael didn't protest; The semen made it a much more smoother ride. Tammy then whispered something that made Michael feel dirty, and highly sexual at the same time:
"Oh daddy, do it in my butt. Do it again daddy..." She stared into his eyes in the mirror and he clasped her hips and pushed deeper. Her eyes never leaving his, she said it again: "Daddy, oh daddy." He came the very last he could inside her ass, then slid out, grabbed her and they lay on the bed. Tammy laid Mike on his back, she mounted him and then slid him back inside her throbbing bottom.
This time, facing him, she leaned back and grabbed his ankles. Jiving on his cock, still whispering it: "Daddy, ooooh daddy, yessss daddy." Michael felt a tinge of pain in his cock, but he was cumming again. So much erotica at one time, overload. Now, Tammy rode him until she took him out and collapsed on his chest. He held her close. Sweat ridden, they caught breath.
"Why did you call me daddy?" Michael asked. He feared the worst.
"Rachel told me all guys like it. It's what the 'adult world' calls a 'turn on" She said innocently enough.
Whew, crisis averted.
Michael pulled her knees to bend on both sides. Tammy cooed and snuggled her face into the sweat of his chest. She put her arms under his shoulders. Michael kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her tightly:
"I love you, Tammy." He whispered.
"I love you, Michael." She whispered.
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It must have been an hour before Michael heard their voices outside; All the parents. They were just outside discussing politics and how Bush was riding this country into the dirt. How no one respected the US That Tony Blair was George Bush's prison bitch (and that you can only suck for so long). Michael woke his Sleeping Beauty:
"Baby, they're outside. Get some clothes on, I'm going to the bathroom. I'm going to jet downstairs and turn on the television."
Groggily, she woke up:
"No, don't leave me. Please? Just lay here, naked, with me, you're little lover." She gave him the look: Which was a pout, and sexy stare combination.
"I can't, you know this." He said as he gathered his clothes.
"Give me the thong, I have to hide it in my Barbie house." She pointed to it. Screaming red thong amidst black clothes...Not too difficult to find. It was like to ask someone "Find Richard Simmons on a farm." Not hard.
Michael handed it to her, and with speed, put his clothes on. He left his boots off and took them downstairs, but not before a kiss from his love.
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Dan and Joan came into the house and Michael was watching CNN. George Bush was on the screen:
"Egad! Speak of the devil!" Both Joan and Dan said.
Michael laughed.
"So how's Tammy, is she sleeping?" Dan asked.
"She went upstairs a while ago to find the Little Mermaid. Said that it was lost." Michael pieced together quickly.
"I don't know how that child loses anything, she keeps that room so damn spotless!" Joan said.
They all laughed.
"My house is almost always speck free and spotless." Michael declared.
"Where is your house, by the way?" Joan asked eagerly.
"Just off 2222, up in the hills off of MoPac (this is one of the busiest streets in Austin, reader)." He said without missing a beat. He loved his house. He loved his spot of the world.
"Is it always busy up there?" asked Dan.
"Not really, it's on the very top of that hill. You have to go quite a ways and curved roads slow everyone down. It's, like I said, on the top, so you have to drive for some time, and you have a lot of choices of roads to take. One leads you way down hill, and the other leads you way up top, where I am." He said with his right arm reclined on the back table, as he gave them both all the attention. He even clicked off the television without looking, or stammering.
Tammy came down. Know the lie I said...Michael wished he could push it into her skull himself:
"I found it Mikey!" Tammy waved the DVD. She was wearing a light pink gown that went down to her shins. So beautiful.
"Oh God, it's on DVD?" Michael asked in shock, "I remember when that came into theatres, I was barely six years old!"
Tammy laughed, "Well get up here and watch it with me silly!" She giggled.
They all four laughed.
"Pardon me, I am being called upon." Michael said as he dismissed himself.
"Alright you two! No jumping on the bed!" Joan said laughing.
Oh, no jumping, just fucking, will do. Thanks. Michael thought.
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It was now some two and a half hours after the third defiling of Tammy Weiss. They put in the DVD and put up the volume so that it could be heard downstairs, barely. So as to throw off suspicion, or what parents love to do, sneak up and creep in with that "what are you doing" type manner. The movie began with the mermaids swimming to the great hearing.
Michael laid down on her bed, with his back against the headboard, his feet locked at the ankles. Tammy unlocked his ankles and laid between his legs with her back against his stomach and crotch. Non-sexual looking enough for both to enjoy each other's company without the shock of parents.
Joan came in to watch the first few minutes with them to see if they needed anything. She "aww'ed" and "ooooh'ed" at how "cute" they were together. She grabbed the digital camera and took a picture, to which they both approved, being so vain.
As Joan left to go show Dan, Tammy quickly turned around and unzipped Michael's zipper:
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"Shhh!" She said.
Michael gave up any means to fight. He was out-manned. She had sexiness, cuteness, devilishness, fiendish qualities working for her, with all a child's heartfelt demanding.
Joan came in, smiled and sat down on one of Tammy's miniature chairs. Tammy reached behind and slid her hand into Michael's pants so slowly that not even if you were up close, could you hear the movement. She took out his cock and began rubbing it, squeezing, stroking. Her eyes were on Joan like a hawk.
Because of all the food, Joan began to get sleepy within just thirty minutes of the movie. By that time, Tammy had her hand out of his pants and was faking enjoyment of the movie. She had seen it so many times it wasn't funny.
Joan awoke with a start, apologized for her outburst and dismissed herself from the room. Tammy crept over to the door to make sure her mother's room door was closed, it was cracked. Well, shit, no playing around. Tammy thought.
She climbed back onto Michael, and all of a sudden, he gripped her like the imaginary monster in the darkness everyone fears about. He pulled up her gown so that it fit underneath her chin like a cushion. He stroked her breasts, squeezed them, then caressed her pink panties:
"Her door is cracked! We can't!" She said in a hushed whisper.
"Like hell we can't. That's the whole fun of it; Possibly getting caught!" He said like a snake in the dark. Heated breath curling off his tongue.
Tammy gave up. She was outnumbered. He had sexiness, masculinity, fiendishness, devilishness, and strength qualities, with all a grown man's desire.
Michael tugged down his pants, and then tugged down her panties. He put his cock inside her panties, then his testicles. He slid panties over them as his firm cock rested against her clit. Her lips parted on both sides of this rod. She moaned softly. Michael covered her mouth with his left hand. He clamped her legs on his cock, and it was held firmly against her clit. Her rose her body up and down and she bit his finger playfully; Eyes closed, teeth on his skin lightly pressing down. She could see the head of his cock poking the front of her panties. She arched her back and his hands shot to her little tits.
He squeezed them and then, as he did, she shot her hands in her panties and curved his cock and put him inside her. Always a hard position, but Michael could manage. She held his cock firmly inside her as he ripped open the sore flesh that sought to heal. Tinge of pain for Tammy, but a moan escaped instead. Michael moaned like a madman of whispers into her ear. She was going insane with pleasure, insane with pain. She reached back and grabbed the headboard rim, hands clenched. She wanted desperately to scream, but she couldn't.
Tammy leant forward and rode his cock like her fantasies. She grabbed the foot board and bounced onto his cock as if, as if she needed his cum to survive. Sweat was coming from the both of them as the bed almost made sounds of groaning itself. Tammy's eyes rolled in the back of her head and she clenched her legs together and her peach came and came all over Michael's cock and all over his thighs. Her legs spread so wide, not even Moses could have controlled this sea.
She was gushing vaginal secretions, as well as some traces of blood. Luckily his pants were farther down his legs. He leaned up and grabbed her tits again and she twisted in his lap. She rocked her hips on his cock. She leaned her head back and licked his cheek: "Cum for me, daddy."
Michael's eyes fluttered and he spurt deep inside her like he was to put out the fire within her body with his white flooding avalanche. Tammy was tossing her hair back and rowing her hips to a bigger climax. Gritting her teeth and clenching her cunt, she was snarling for the pleasure. Their bodies were slapping so hard, their privies must have been bruised and swollen.
They slowed down and like drugged animals climbed off the bed and whipped off on the towels of all traces of semen, vaginal secretions, and blood. No showers this time, so Michael got a cold wet rag from the bathroom (after straightening his attire) with a cup of water.
He laid Tammy on her back, lifted up her panties and twisted the rag so that water rushed into her love hole. She gasped at this, but it felt so good. He did the same to the opening of her bottom. Poured the water in. More gasps. Then, he whipped her dry, left the cup by the bed in case of midnight burnings. Pulled up her panties and pull back down her nightgown to her shins. Her put his arm under her head, his other under the bends of her knees, picked her up, then put her in the middle of the bed. She was already asleep in his arms. His left arm under her head, and with his right he pulled up the sheets and bed spread. He moved his left arm and her head rested on the pillows. She cooed in her sleep: "Michael." He kissed her lips, then her forehead. He tucked her in, then turned on the fan for her and headed downstairs to go sleep on the couch.
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