Chapter 5
"Am I doing all right so far?" Janet asked with a half smug, half anxious grin as she picked herself up off the floor and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Terrific," I admitted. "You just keep it up like that and you won't have anything to worry about"
She chuckled and picked up her purse and went to the bathroom. I heard water running and I heard her brushing her teeth. "If I can't give a good blow-job when I need to, I'm in pretty sad shape," she said when she turned off the water. It was very strange. She seemed suddenly to have more pride in her ability to satisfy me than she'd had before in her ability to make me feel like a worm. I wondered whether any lessons could be drawn from that about women in general. I hoped not, but I feared so. Well-for me it didn't matter.
"So now let's have some dinner." I picked up a room service menu from the coffee table.
Half an hour later we were fully dressed. Three waiters delivered and served filet mignon, medium rare, for me, and lobster Newburg for her. We sat in muted tension, conversing little while we ate and I drank from my private, outrageously expensive bottle of vintage claret while she sipped reflectively from her excellent but somewhat less extravagantly chosen bottle of white burgundy. I knew that nothing like this had ever happened to her before, and I sensed as I savored the musky, mellow dry-smoothness of my wine that although deep down she was angry and bitter, she was also fascinated by my sudden change of character-as though it was very interesting to see a worm turn. Even, perhaps, a little exciting. I knew that she was of one of those strange women who admire forthrightness, even a certain degree of selfishness and insensitivity, in men; as long as they were strong. Stronger than she was. For whatever reasons, and in whatever ways.
"All right," I said when the time had come to lay aside my napkin and slosh down my fourth and last glass of wine. "I think Fm ready to go at you again." My eyes betrayed a faint suggestion of humor at the situation-an attitude I never could have assumed as Poor Bob. "For our next act, Fm going to fuck you in the . ass."
Her brow wrinkled in fear and her mouth puckered as though attempting to deny entrance to the tighter, more constricted opening at her bottom end. She leaned over the table earnestly. "I really don't know if I can do that, Bob. I told you, Fve never done it before. I've never even tried. There have been lots of men who've wanted to; but I'm just too tight. . . . "
I got up from the table and motioned her to follow me to the bedroom. "Well, you're just going to have to loosen up." On the way I scooped up my briefcase, and when we got there I took a small bottle of mineral oil out of it. "This'll help. And it'll also help if you just get the idea into your head that my cock isn't that much bigger than a turd!" I laughed insidiously. One of Brace's buddies had told me that the first time he'd ass-fucked me and it had made a ludicrous kind of sense.
Janet grimaced ruefully. "That's not much consolation." Then she looked at me with pleading impatience. "Are you sure it's really necessary?"
"Absolutely." I was really beginning to enjoy this.
"All right, then. I guess I'll just have to chalk it up to experience and hope it doesn't hurt too much. What do I do?"
"I'm not out to hurt you, so I'll make it as easy on you as I can." Her expression said, "Nice of you." I smiled. "Just take off your clothes and bend over the bed there and spread your ass nice and wide. I'll put some of this stuff on you and work my finger up. It'll go a lot easier if you try to suck it in. Don't make me force it-take it yourself. Understand?"
She heaved a deep, tense sigh of resignation and removed her clothes. I undressed at the same time. It was amazing how natural it all seemed, especially since we were about to commit what's often called an "unnatural act." For a second I imagined that Janet was my wife, and that.. . . But of course that was absurd.
She moved to the bedside and bent over it till her tits squashed to the bedspread. She shuffled her feet and flexed her knees until she was comfortable, then reached back to spread her ass open. "Unh!" she groaned. "I don't know how wide I can.. . "
"It looks just lovely," I assured her, opening the bottle of mineral oil while my cock rose once more. I stuck my finger into the clear, slippery substance. "That's right. Just let all your muscles go lax. You're a garage waiting for a car to come in!" I laughed heartily and she managed an uncertain little giggle. Either she was a damned good actress, or she had made up her mind to go with the flow and get what she could out of a bad situation.
Her sphincter was flaring and constricting, flaring and constricting, like the petals of a livid iris, expanding and deepening its hole until it was as open as it had been before when she'd been on her back on the floor. I applied my finger to it, spreading the oil around its rim, where creases rapidly smoothed and flattened to my touch. Then, resting the finger easily against the opening, I began to work it in. Janet kept forcing out and sucking in, forcing out and sucking in, and I needed no pressure at all to get an index finger in to the second knuckle. She'd determined to make it as easy on herself as possible. "How does it feel?" I asked.
"Not so bad. It felt better when you were playing around the outside. I sort of liked that. But it's not uncomfortable yet. When you push forward toward my cunt it does something . . . "
It took a few more minutes for me to get the whole finger comfortably in, and then I started with a second. She moaned a few pained syllables at the stretching of the edges of her hole, but it didn't take long before she'd accommodate it, and once it got in past the rim, it slid into the softer inner regions more easily than the first. I got two fingers in all the way and wormed them around. "Okay," I said. "I think you're ready now."
She wasn't so sure. I could feel it in the tautness of her ass-hole and the rigidity of her back muscles as I ran my free hand up and down her spine, making little excursions to knead her to relaxation. "Well, take it at your own speed," I advised. "But you've got to take it all sooner or later. And once you get it all in and start moving a little I'm going to shoot in about three seconds. I've never been able to hold out very long with a cock up an ass. It's just so tight and hot . . . So the quicker you get it all in, the quicker it's all over." I thought that sounded good, as though I'd had all kinds of experience with women. like most good silent lies, it had the virtue of being true.
I touched the head of my cock to her gaping ass-hole, which now quivered in raw suspense, caught between rejecting as it wanted to and accepting as it had to. A hoarde of memories came flooding back to me: of the girl I'd almost bled to death over, of the first time I'd ass-fucked Ronnie, of the first time I'd got it up the rear end myself . . . of all those times when I'd thought, "This girl is too good to be fucked up the cunt! What she needs is a good, hard, merciless shot up the rear end! Then she'd appreciate getting it where it belongs! Even from me!"
Suddenly a charge of excitement sizzled on the surface of my rod; a charge from Janet's reluctant ass-hole itself. I felt-I knew-that deep down Janet really wanted this. I knew she wanted to shudder and squeal and squirm and cry. I knew that I'd been doing It all wrong, being gentle with her. She wasn't undergoing this only because of the letter to her husband. She was submitting to me because she wanted to be punished for it all. Inside her someplace, in a tiny little sealed-off shell, there was the microscopic remnant of a decent person crying to be released; crying for its shell to be broken. It was in a case-hardened sphere of indifference that only violence could puncture. She didn't need it gently. She needed it roughly, like she needed a good spanking. She needed some agony to wash her accumulated guilt away. Her soul was in debt because of the things she had done to her husband, and it wanted to repay.
I placed my palms on her ass cheeks and leaned with all my weight to push them aside, to yank her hole open like you yank open a newfound purse to see what fortune has seen fit to throw in your path. My cock jabbed at the center of her pain like the steely-tipped fingers of a karate master delivering a knife-point blow. I pinned her dead to the mattress. With a quick sweep of my arms at the sides of her head I bunched the bedspread over her face to muffle her scream.
The dikes broke and the floodwater rushed in. I could feel her saying, "Yes! Yes! Fuck me blind and deaf and dumb! Fuck me till you kill me! God, it feels so goodT
When that guilt-bound person sprang free from her dank and solitary prison to meet the fertilizing thunderstorm and searing lightning-bolt of my orgasm, the drenching outpour of a cooling rain of semen diffused her in a tepid swamp of relief and vague pleasure.
Then the circuits closed and the juice pulled the parched ground up to meet it. Suddenly Janet shoved her hands down between her legs and folded them over her cunt and began humping. The flesh-in-flesh-thing seized up in a terminal state of bittersweet euphoria and rattled my bones to the marrow. My skeleton shook like a fluorescent glowing ghost in the hands of a sly trick-or-treater and the Northern Lights flickered ephemeral phosphorescence inside the planetarium of my skull. The tempo of my climax reverberated in my ears like the tinnily brassy boing-boings of a pinball machine, and the impossible had happened. I'd reached into my pocket to fish for a nickel to make a last, desperate, hopeless, inane bet, and out had come a thousand dollar bill. The pair of aces couldn't cover it and folded to my "garbage cards": four of clubs, two of diamonds, six of hearts. I laughed and rolled my three in the hole, and then beckoned the dealer to turn up the card-that-would-have-been. I was already sweeping my winnings off the table and heading out of the door when the five hit the felt.