Chapter 1: A Deal from the Devil?
I wish I could understand how I had gotten to this point. My name is Craig, and I'm a 40-year-old writer. I write steamy romance novels. The kind that housewives like to read. As a hobby, I also write erotica of many types, including my favorite: incest. I often fantasize about my 9 and 11 year-old daughters. I've been doing it a lot more lately, as my wife hasn't been giving it up very much. I get the feeling she's having early on-set menopause. Anyways, here I was in a dark alley outside of my favorite bar letting a strange man fuck my throat with his long cock. My eight inch cock was rock hard in my slacks, throbbing against its imprisonment, precum soaking my boxers. I had coaxed the man into getting very drunk and finally convinced him to let me suck his cock for $40. I needed to pay my tab which had gotten out of hand. His thrusts became faster and harder and I could tell he was close. Knowing that he was going to cum down my throat brought me to my own climax, just as he began to fill my stomach with his seed. I grabbed his butt and forced him all the way in as his body convulsed and he let out incoherent sounds while grabbing my head.
As soon as his cock began to soften, I felt him tremble and he soon collapsed onto the ground with a thud. I wiped the side of my mouth and licked my fingers clean as I giggled. I felt his pockets for his wallet and took the $40 we had agreed upon. I'm not a thief. I buttoned my trench coat to cover the wet spot on the front of my pants before heading back into the bar for another drink. The man's thick load was coating my insides. Despite that act, I'm mostly a straight man. That was only the third cock I'd ever had. I've never had any other gay experiences, but something excites me about having a cock down my throat. Enough to get me to have a spontaneous orgasm. As I sat back in my spot at the bar, I waved at the cute bartender to get her attention. She was a young twenty-something with the fullest red lips I've ever seen on a white woman. I often fantasized about her lips around my cock. She had to know that every man that came in here did the same. She had big, beautiful, green bedroom eyes with lusciously long eyelashes. I've gotten lost in them a few times. Her full, curly brunette hair was always pulled back in a loose ponytail that nearly touched her small, but applebottom-shaped ass. I didn't stare too long at her this time as my mind trailed off, thinking about what just occured. There was no guilt. I didn't put my dick in anything, and I had justified that as not cheating. It was more, paranoia at the thought that my wife could find out. It was unlikely, but it always unsettled my stomach anyways.
Bridget, the bartender, surprised me when she popped in front of my view squishing her C-cup breasts to make her cleavage pop out as much as possible. She saw the suddenness of my reaction and her smile quickly waned to a look of concern. "What's eatin' ya?"
I tried to shrug it off and gave her a quick smirk and then ordered another beer.
"C'mon, Craig, I know you better than that. Your wife still not givin' it up?" she asked with a wry smirk. She grabbed a glass and began to pour my beer.
"How did I get here?"
She raised her eyebrow at me and giggled slightly before answering, "I'm guessing you drove your car."
I couldn't help but smile at that. "I meant my situation in life. How did it get so bad?"
She had a confused look on her face as she placed the beer in front of me on a new coaster. "But, you have a beautiful wife and two wonderful daughters. You all live in a nice house. What more could you want? I mean, you've been here a lot in the past few months, but I thought you were happy with your life."
"I think I'm losing my wife." I started, taking a sip of my beer before continuing. "In fact, I know I'm losing her, and I know she would win custody if it came to that."
Bridget knew that my wife was a successful and cutthroat real estate agent. "Shit, she'd probably get the house, too." she laughed.
"Yea, no kidding. She'd take the fucking dog, too." She giggled at that and I watched her boobs jiggle. I'm not sure if she liked be ogled at or not, but she's never discouraged anyone from doing it, no matter how lascivious the look. I've even seen her tolerate a grope here and there to my surprise. She once jumped in my lap and gave me a long hug after the Seahawks won the Superbowl. She's never been more than a flirt for bigger tips and I shrugged it off, assuming that she didn't have any feelings for me.
I looked up at her eyes and we gazed at each other for a brief moment, and then she smiled and said, "I'm sorry to hear about your troubles. Tell you what... this one's on the house, okay?" She beamed an even bigger smile, showing her big dimples.
"That's mighty kind of you, Bridge. A small win among many losses feels like a big win." I gave her a genuine smile, and she bounced off to serve another customer with a big smile. If I was only twenty years younger. She didn't seem like the type to have daddy issues. Little did she know how desperate I was for a big win. Any kind of satisfying win. The kind of win that's life-altering. I've never known that kind of luck, though. I had come to the conclusion many years ago, that I just wasn't the sort, deserved or not. I was about to take another sip of my beer when I noticed a man sitting next to me. I had never noticed him arrive at the seat. He toyed with a large coin in one hand. He was the dark and handsome type with long scruff as a beard and definitive masculine features. I'm not really attracted to men, but I knew he was model-worthy. He had on a sharp, pin-stripe suit and a fedora that sat on the bar.
He looked at me with a sidelong glance, a twinkle in his eye, and a slight smirk to his lips. For a brief moment I thought he was about to try hitting on me. Wouldn't be the first time. "Having some troubles with life, are ya?"
He had a slight Irish accent, but it was the question that struck me. How long had he been sitting there, I thought. "More like it's in the dumps." I answered, taking a sip.
"Well, my friend, I have just the thing you're looking for."
"What am I looking for?" I asked with sarcasm, even though I didn't really know myself.
His smile widened a bit, but so did his eyes. They became a bit intense. "Why, it's what everyone wants--full control."
A weird pang shot through my stomach and I turned to look at him with my brow furled. "Now I know you're trying to blow smoke up my ass."
Despite what I said, his face lightened, but his smile went away. "Don't be so cynical, my friend. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You know, that life-altering win you're so desperate for."
Another pang shot through my stomach, only this one was much stronger. Strong enough that it made me stop mid-sip, the cold beer fizzing on my lips. I didn't finish the sip and carefully set my beer back down. I must admit, I'm not a very religious man. I believe that there might be a god, but the Devil? I always figured he was a nursery rhyme type villain, meant to scare you straight. However, I know a soul-selling deal when I hear one. To top it off, this guy had to have heard my thoughts. I really began to study him, and my hesitation caused him to act first.
"Look, I know how this sounds. Too good to be true and all that." He then put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm just a man, but I'm the man with the answer." I looked at his other hand, and like a magic trick, he made a small business card appear. It was clear like glass except that the corners were small golden triangles. It only had one other thing on it. A phone number in large, bold, digital numbers that were bright green. He moved it closer before saying, "Give it some thought, my friend. Call me when you're ready."
I took the card from him and I felt him pat my shoulder a couple of times as I stared at it. It was hard and not flimsy like a normal business card. I turned to look at him, but he was gone. I looked all around, and sure enough, he was nowhere to be seen. I huffed as I turned back forward. I flipped the card over, and to my amazement, the numbers disappeared and I could see right through where they were. They reappeared when I turned it back over. I've seen some cool technologies, but this card seemed to be futuristic; beyond our capabilities. I chuckled out loud, recalling the last thing he said as I put the card into my inside coat pocket.
"What's so funny that it made you laugh out loud to yourself?"
Bridget rarely surprised me anymore. She had done it enough times that I had acclimated to her ninja-like movement. More like, a ninja-ballerina. So gracefully quiet. "Well, if you can't laugh at life, how can you expect to survive, right?" I asked rhetorically as I took a much longer sip of my beer.
Bridget chuckled, "True that. Is there anything else I can get ya? Anything at all?" she asked as she wiped the countertop in front of me, making sure to squish her boob each time she reached across her body. She smiled the whole time.
There was something in the look in her eyes and the way she said it that, for the first time in a long time, my thoughts became lewd. She's always flirtatious, but she's that way with everyone, even the women. This time, however, something nagged at me in the back of my mind. It told me that she really did mean anything. I quickly let logic take over and went to respond, but someone had called to her from the other end of the bar.
"Hold that thought." she told me with a smile and a wink.
I smiled inwardly. If only she knew what I was thinking at that moment. Then the guilt hit. I never liked to fantasize about someone when they're right in front of me when we're not being intimate. I sighed and took another long sip of my beer. It was just a quarter full, but the guilt struck me hard, and I didn't want to face her again, worried that I might think inappropriate thoughts again. I took the $40 and put it under my beer. I made sure that she wasn't looking and quickly walked to the door. I went straight to my car, but didn't turn it on right away and leaned back in my seat. I wanted to cry. I wasn't very drunk, but I was buzzed enough that it reduced my emotional inhibitions. So many of the bad things that have happened recently flooded my mind, and I almost succumbed to letting it all out right then and there. As I thought about crying, my logic warned that I would be even more impaired to drive home. I forced myself to hold it in and get a grip. I at least had to get home first, and home was still 40 minutes away. I let out a long sigh through my nose before I leaned forward and turned the car on. My car is an old station wagon from the early nineties and it took a few tries to get it to start. Yet another thing I had to sigh about.