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With Benefits (MM, Mdom, Fdom, bi-sub humiliation) Lizard69
The bar wasn't lit very well. It was also packed and the music was blasting louder than OSHA would allow in the factory where I worked. I was fresh out of high school. Eighteen was the legal age to drink, or anything else, there and then but I wasn't very far on the right side of that magic number. On top of that I was one of those skinny, nervous, types with less self assurance than the average teenager. Bartenders were still asking me for a drivers license as well as my newly minted ID to make sure I wasn't a couple years younger.
The hand that landed on my shoulder wasn't just to get my attention. He had to pull me in closer to hear his offer to buy me a drink. I'd already had a few or I don't think I would have acted on a sudden impulse, asking him to step outside for a minute and heading for the door before he could answer. The direction events were taking was clear to me the instant I opened my mouth. For the moment though I could still pretend I wasn't driving. There was a street light to one side of the door. As if by mutual agreement we went the other direction far enough to be out of the heavy foot traffic.
He was about ten years older than me, a couple inches taller, maybe half again my weight. If he was carrying any flab the open leather vest that was all he wore above the waist certainly wasn't hiding it. The front of his biker chaps accented the crotch of his Levi's. Actually he was fairly conservative for a gay bar in the early seventies.
"I'm on my way to meet some friends so nothing is going to happen tonight. After I lay out what's on my mind you'll probably run like hell anyway. I don't have much time before I have to go and can't believe I'm saying this so let me babble, ok? There was this girl I went to school with. Lots of them actually but this one was different. Buck teeth, thick glasses, acne, taller than average and terribly self conscious about it, she was also so skinny her tits were hardly more than a pair of puffy nipples. No way would anyone call her pretty.
"I was a late blooming Catholic school boy and the hotties trying out for the cheer squad intimidated me to the point I couldn't even fantasize about them. I didn't have that problem while imagining what I'd like to do to Heather. My fantasies went past knowing what I wanted and not being afraid to ask for it. The more impossible it got to work up the nerve to ask a girl out the more domineering I got, at least in the safety of my own mind. One that never failed to get me off was getting her alone somewhere and pressuring her to have sex. Legally it would probably qualify as rape by intimidation. You know, that point where it's slightly less awkward to do what the creep wants than to say no and most likely be physically forced anyway. Eventually I spun the fantasy to include blackmail. I had no interest in becoming her boyfriend or even openly dating her. If she would meet me discretely once or twice a month nobody would ever have to know about what she did for me.
"Graduation came and we all went our separate ways. In my case that included making some new friends and visiting a couple of gay bars. I don't think I'm gay. The idea of doing stuff with a guy is like... eewww. One thing most gays have in common though is the ability to ask for things guys aren't supposed to want. It sort of brought back my fantasies of Heather, only with me on her side of the scene. The idea is creepy and scary and too embarrassing for words. At the same time it's exciting enough I can't completely let it go. It keeps popping back into my head, adding detail, taking form."
"Oh? Exactly what form is this forbidden fantasy starting to take?"
"Someone at a place like this recognizes me, enough that they could contact my family if they chose to. My parents are such uptight Catholics knowing I was in the same room with a bunch of cocksuckers would be enough for them to disown me. This person takes me aside and tells me the only way to keep my present whereabouts a secret is to meet him somewhere private. He doesn't tell me anything about what I might do there. He certainly doesn't reveal his intention to leverage whatever indiscretions I become involved in until he has the same control over me that I had in my fantasies of Heather. It's Saturday night. If I told my roommate I had to spend some time on my knees tomorrow morning he'd assume I was going to church."
"You're serious?!"
"And scared half out of my mind. If you're interested, tell me when and where... and nothing else. The only way I can go through with this is if I don't think about it enough to let it become real."
He pulled out a matchbook advertising the bar we were at. Inside he wrote a street address and ten AM, no date, no name. Anyone who would have a reason to be there would already know.
The next morning I was cruising unfamiliar streets. The area was single family residential but an old part of town. It didn't have the population density of a true slum but hadn't been middle class in my lifetime and maybe a couple before that. The place I stopped at had the windows boarded up and a note tacked to the front door telling me to go around back. The guy from the bar was sitting on the pack porch with a flashlight in one hand and a loaded key ring in the other.
"Don't tell me you live here."
"Nah, I know a guy who manages places like this."
After locking the door behind us he needed the light to get through a couple of rooms and up a flight of stairs. One of the rooms there had a window not visible from the ground so covering it hadn't been necessary. Except for a few pieces of dirty discarded clothing and a mattress that had seen years of better days it was empty.
"Uh, I guess this is the part where I tell you I've changed my mind."
"Yeah... well... I suppose you have to say it but wasn't the whole point to get yourself in a situation where what you think doesn't really matter?"
"So... what exactly do I have to do?"
The silence stretched out until I thought something, somewhere, had to snap. When he finally spoke his voice seemed to carry a sense of wonder.
"I don't believe it. You aren't kidding. It isn't role play, or at least not just role play. You really are straight and maybe cherry as well."
"That's probably the least embarrassing part of it."
"We could get a room. I set this up thinking you were into grunge. It's pretty nasty for a kids first time."
"That's ok. It's not supposed to be a date, not like asking a girl to the prom anyway. It's more like the movies where some hooker calls it a date so she doesn't have to look too close at what it really is. You don't seem like the kind of guy that's into making threats or slapping somebody around. That's ok too, there's nothing exciting about getting beat up. It's more like, you're making me do it because you think I'm too embarrassed to ask for what I really want, while I'm doing what you tell me because I really don't want to find out what will happen if I say no."
"For a virgin, you are one sick little perv. Get your clothes off."
"Uh... Just like that?"
He continued as I started to unbutton my shirt.
"This ain't a romance novel where some silly bitch meets her diamond in the rough and they spend a hundred pages knocking the rough edges off each other. This is a horny queer doing things to a confused young perv that will make him want to hide in a closet. Now lose the pants princess. That's what we call kids like you. There aren't a lot of them but you're sure as hell not the only one. In fact, this might be the perfect place for you.
"My buddy has a full time job closing up break-ins. Mostly it's homeless trying to get out of the weather. Sometimes it's kids looking for a private spot to do some growing up. Now and then it's a skank trading sex for drugs or the money to buy some. Today, it's a Catholic kid doing the unthinkable in a forgotten corner of an empty building."
Unthinkable. Uh-huh. I got as far as hooking my thumbs in the waistband of my briefs and couldn't imagine taking them off. He moved in close, rested one hand around the back of my neck. For a second I thought he was going to kiss me. That would have been less embarrassing. Instead he got a grip on my half hard cock with his free hand, gently milking it through the fabric.
"Not bad for a young guy. Of course your friends would be giving you a pretty rough time if they could see how hard you're getting... except for the ladies. There's just something about a couple cute guys fucking that brings out the voyeur in an otherwise wholesome girl from the `burbs. I swear, if they know where it's happening, you can't chase them away. I could call a couple if I'm not too busy."
I'm still not sure how much of that was threat and how much incentive. I mean, after you tell a pervert precisely how to most effectively twist your arm, then hold still while he gets a solid grip on your wrist, the idea that you're being forced starts to wear a little thin. Not that I had time to think about it, not right then. Even kneeling naked on a dirty mattress came in second to being face to face with my first one eyed trouser snake. Sure, on my way to escaping from public school I must have been through more than a thousand post PE showers. Forget about having one of my own. That's not the same as having some perv open his fly and haul out his cock and balls after he's made it clear that you're today's designated orgasm provider.
"Ever get caught jerking off? There's no need to be shy now but take a hot tip from somebody who's been there, it will be a lot easier to do what it takes to get me off if you're horny as hell and haven't cum yet. So jerk all you want but it might be smarter to save the big finish for after I'm done with you."
I guess he took it slow. He didn't just tell me to open wide and start fucking my face. One hand cupped the back of my head while he used the other to flop it against my cheeks and drag it across my lips. Soon he had me kissing and licking it, rubbing my face against it, feeling the snail tracks get thicker and wetter as he got hard enough for the pre-cum to flow. Just before he finally got around to shoving it in my mouth I reached down to my rumpled pile of clothes and pulled a folded note from the hip pocket of my Levi's. I continued spit shining his dick and watching his face as he began to read aloud.
"Hi mom. If you're reading this, I've made a terrible mistake. I hope the shock doesn't kill you. Dad and I never had `the talk'. Between you, dad, and the church about all I learned was that anything outside of marriage was sinful, depraved, and perverted. Then puberty hit and the sex ed class at school told me it was perfectly normal to be completely obsessed with thoughts of losing my virginity. The only way I could stop thinking about it for even a little while was to warp my fantasies into things that truly were unthinkable. Gradually, my list of unthinkable things got shorter and shorter. Unfortunately, by the time I realized my mistake I had mentally painted myself into a corner. The more depraved and perverted the fantasy, the more enticing it became.
"Eventually, fantasy alone wasn't enough. I needed the extra hit of mingled fear and excitement I got from taking some tiny little step towards making it real. I discovered there was pornography tailored to every possible taste. The same shops sold weekly, "underground" or "counterculture", papers that survived on advertising the normal papers wouldn't run, for businesses they refused to admit existed. I started driving past some of these places, excited and appalled that I would even get as close as the street out front.
"Last night, I had a few beers after work. Not enough to actually get drunk but enough to loosen me up until I stopped at one of the evil places for another drink on the way home. Being a fresh face in the crowd, I was less than half way through my beer when I was propositioned. And no, it wasn't by some lonely lady. The place was far too noisy for conversation and it felt like everyone there was watching, waiting to see how I would react. I've always been terrified of public speaking and invited him outside, intending to explain that I'd wandered into the wrong bar. Instead, I found myself making some excuse for why I couldn't do anything then and there but asking if there was some place I could meet him the next day. It didn't keep me from getting to sleep when I got home. Obviously, there was no way on earth that I'd actually go through with it.
"I woke up early with the apartment to myself. My roommate must have found somewhere else to spend the night. My last step in getting ready to face the day is to sit at the table drinking morning coffee. I started to wonder about what people would think if they knew where I was last night. For some reason I pulled out some paper and began making a list, of everyone who would be shocked and offended. Soon I had a list of family, co-workers, friends, some of them from all the way back in high school. What if the guy I was supposed to meet had a copy? How far would I go to keep him from contacting anyone on the list? My God! How many people would he actually talk to if he started trying to locate them? I began filling in contact info for as many names as possible.
"The only way you could be reading this is if I went where he told me... and gave him that list. He now knows everything he needs to completely ruin my life. I don't even know his name. At the time I'm writing this all I know about him is that he's five to ten years older than me, quite masculine, and aggressively homosexual. That, and where to meet him so he can demonstrate just how aggressive."
His low chuckle wasn't as evil as I expected, but didn't miss by much.
"So, anonymous and aggressive is what gets you hot? We can do that. I don't have anything else planned for today. Open wide, then suck your lips in so I don't scrape my cock on your teeth while I'm fucking your face."
Well, I kept his cock off my teeth but only the pervert equivalent of divine intervention kept my puke off his shoes. Then I was face down on that dirty mattress with my legs spread, reaching back with both hands to pull my butt cheeks apart so he could lube and stretch my virgin asshole. Later I'd find out he was being gentle but it sure didn't feel that way at the time. Worse was the way I was responding. It felt as if his fingers in my ass were pumping more blood into an erection that was already so hard it ached. Grinding it against the grimy fabric trying to escape from the cock invading my ass nearly pushed me over the edge.
The way I groaned when he lifted my hips got him laughing again. I don't know if he wanted my face down while I knelt there with my ass in the air, or just wanted to keep me from jacking off. Either way his grip on my wrists was strong enough to pull me back onto his cock so hard that he lifted me until I could see my own dick waving around, slinging thin strands of pre-cum in all directions. I'm not sure if I felt him unload in my ass. He'd shifted his grip back to my hips and I was frantically jerking myself when he finished.
"Not bad, with a little practice you'll be a real slut. Now get your clothes on and get out. I've got your number. I'll call the next time I want some."
Thirty minutes later I was still sitting behind the wheel of my car unable to decide where to go or what to do next. How on earth could I have been so foolish as to think I was setting myself up to be blackmailed once. I'd been able to endure the experience only as something happening moment by moment. Now I was stunned, completely overwhelmed by what I'd done. The idea that I'd have to do it again was more than I could cope with. The possibility of becoming a "real slut" was, or at least should have been, unthinkable.
Or was it? Ok, the kid I was at twelve or even fifteen would be having a total meltdown about now. Even a year ago I still had some hope of getting with a girl. I knew the other guys my age had such a head start I wasn't even in the running for a really hot date but there had to be somebody out there for me. Until I found her... Well... It's not like I was picking from a long list of options, or really had much of a choice. It may seem a little strange but that last thought calmed me down enough I could pull myself together and go home.
I won't say things went back to normal. I was worried my roommate would notice but he was talking about moving in with his girlfriend and sort of blind to everything else. Saturday afternoon they were out looking for a place when he showed up at my door. Saying he pushed his way past me makes it sound like I tried to stop him.
"Ready for another round?"
"Oh God! Not here! Not now! My roommate is going to be home any minute."
"Then you better get busy."
"Honest! I can't! I'll meet you tomorrow morning, same as last time, or anywhere else you want me to go. I just can't do it right here, right now."
"Ok kid, I landed on you with no warning this time. It isn't gonna kill me to wait less than a full day if you're willing to make it special."
"Special? How?"
"You tell me. If all I'm expecting is a quick, hard, fuck I could already be doing it. Get your skinny little bod up against me. Wrap your arms around my neck and tell me what I'll get tomorrow that I couldn't have now."
"Uh, you can go slower... take as long as you like."
"Huh, that's something. What else?"
"I... don't know what to offer. I never really thought about it, past, well, you know."
"Ok, I'll help you out. If you haven't got time right now, I'll be fishing off the west side bridge, 9:30 tomorrow morning and don't be surprised if I bring a friend."
"You can't!"
"Don't talk stupid. I can do anything I feel like and so can you. What you have to decide between now and then is whether you're more afraid to find out what happens if you don't show, or if you do."
I was seriously reconsidering doing it then and there when I heard a familiar clunker pull up out front and realized I honestly didn't have the time.
I didn't have any trouble finding it the next morning. The main highway passed well to the north while this road mostly served an industrial park that had been losing traffic for years. A no-tell motel, greasy chicken place and a boarded up gas station was the limit of "services" on that edge of town. The lack of traffic on a Sunday morning along with plenty of parking should have made that bridge popular with the local fishing fans. The condition of the river kept most people from wanting to eat anything that came out of it.
There was enough of a chill in the air to make a jacket feel good and the skinny kid next to him was wearing a long hoodie. I couldn't really tell if they were actually together or the kid had just stopped to check on the fishing. Not until I got closer and they turned towards me. Then it was, Oh My Fuggin' God! What on earth is she doing here? Followed instantly by a sinking feeling that I was about to find out.
"I don't believe it! It's really him!"
"Uh, hi Heather."
"This is wild. Like, after senior prom there were maybe a dozen virgin guys in our class. Most of them have hooked up by now, the rest are mutants, except for this guy. He's like the total Catholic kid, afraid to look up from a hymn book because he might catch sight of a tit."
"It's nice to see you too."
"I just can't fuckin' believe you let Mark do that to you."
"Uh, I don't know what he told you. Until right now I didn't even know his name was Mark."
Just her grin was enough to make me turn away. I leaned on the bridge rail staring down at the ugly water, wondering how hard it would be to drown in something that wasn't fit to swim in.
"Actually, you still don't know his name. I made him show ID when I got here. I'm not in the habit of going out to meet random strangers but I figure I'm fairly safe in public as long as my roomie knows who to send the cops after if I don't come home. He told me to call him Mark if you were around. It's the other stuff that's hard to believe.
"I mean, a straight boy pushing twenty might start to wonder just how straight he really is. I could understand you meeting a stud muffin like Mark and working your way up to giving it a try. I'd be on him myself if he gave me the slightest reason to think he might be interested. It's just that from the little I know about you, it would be like... hang your halo on the doorknob to let people know you're busy. I can't imagine you going from nothing to Mark in one leap."
"He didn't tell you? About the list?"
"What list?"
Mark picked it up. "When he showed up the first time, after he started spit shining my knob, he handed me a list of all the people who'd flip out at the thought of him doing something like that."
"Oh wow. So, if he didn't do whatever you wanted, you could, like, totally destroy his life."
"I didn't ask him to do that and never threatened him in any way."
"You called me."
"Yeah, well, he wanted that. He just didn't have the balls to ask for it."
I had my mouth open to say god knows what when Heather cut in.
"So, now I go home and you take him over to the motel?"
"Christ no! The guy who runs that place couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his life. Anyone who hooks up there might as well rent a billboard. I've got keys to the old gas station... Uh... You don't have to go home."
"Actually, yes, I do. After what I just learned, it would be too much like watching some creep fuck a puppy."
Long before Mark finished I was ready to agree with her. He gave me a break the following week. The week after he told me to meet him at a local coffee place. I had just settled in at an outside table when Heather and some guy I'd never met showed up.
"Ok Steve, you might as well go on to the sports bar. This is the guy I was telling you about, Marks friend."
His smirk left me wondering if I should try to choke the shit out of him before curling up to die.
"Yeah, I guess... It's not like we'd share any common interest."
I watched him down the street as Heather got a cup of coffee.
"So much for introducing me to your boyfriend."
"I wouldn't really call him a boyfriend. If today goes as well as I hope, he'll just be a guy I was seeing for a while."
"Oh?"
"Uh-huh, I'm thinking of inviting you over to meet my roomie. I know that doesn't sound like much. You need to know a little more.
"I've known Marie, like, forever. Seriously, we met in day care. We did the usual little kid fooling around on sleepovers but didn't actually start making love until we were twelve. As far as I know Marie has never been with a man. Sometimes I think she's lucky. Around the time we became lovers my mom was dating a real scuzzball. I didn't quite make it to my thirteenth birthday before he raped me. It was a complete surprise in the sense that I just walked in the door after school and he was on me. He didn't even drag me to the couch, just did it right there on the floor. At the same time, he was such a creep that it wasn't any real surprise at all. Like the way he went to the fridge for a beer when he finally got off me.
"I pulled myself together enough to go right back out the door and over to Marie's house. She was holding me, trying to comfort me, one thing led to another and... well... I raped her. She was incredibly understanding about it which made me feel like even more of a louse. It was almost two weeks before it happened again, to me... and to her. I felt like such a moron. I mean, "of course", it was going to happen again if he got away with it the first time. By the time I understood that going to the cops was the only thing that would stop it, I was ashamed of how many times he'd had me. Like, a girl who would let it happen that many times deserved it."
"Don't expect me to argue. If I'd known it was happening I'd have been waiting in line."
"Yeah, that's what Mark said."
"And you're still talking to me?"
"Uh-huh. What he said got me thinking, or maybe re-thinking a lot of stuff. I guess we should go over to my place. You don't have to. In the long run you might be happier if you don't. But it's close and you already came this far."
Heather was right about it being close. I could see the table we had been sitting at from the balcony off of their living room. I guess the reverse was also true if I'd known where to look. If she hadn't told me her roomie was the same age I never would have guessed. Heather was willowy, Marie was tiny, not malformed like a midget, more like a twelve year old, but with a set of curves the other girls would kill for. Even that wasn't overkill. She had proportions that would have looked perfectly natural on a twenty-something college student, only scaled down to a cute little imp less than five feet tall.
She gave Heather a hug and kiss when we came in then stood there half hiding behind the taller girl with her arms around her. "You didn't tell me he was cute."
"Marie, this is... Now that I think about it, he might be more comfortable if you don't know his real name. Neither of you know who Mark is. There isn't any point in me pretending to be somebody else and if I tried to call you by a fake name I'd mess up the second time I opened my mouth. You could go snooping in my yearbook if curiosity gets the best of you, but you really don't need to know."
"Won't you accidentally call him by his real name?"
"I doubt it. We weren't friends, just two people who went to the same school. Besides, it'll be fun to make up a back story for him. Call him J. Trenton Staggers III. Special friends call him Jay, like the name, not the initial. His family are the sort of snobs that make remarks like, "our kind of people", and, "blood will tell". Only in his case it isn't money or social connections that sets them apart, it's religion. They're so straight laced they'd disown him if mom found a Playboy under his mattress."
"I love it! And he's going to let us watch him with Mark?"
"If I have to choose between that and having my family find out what I already did."
"Nope." It was Heather. "Mark was super clear about that. He doesn't have a problem with making you a bull queers bitch. He gets an extra kick from pushing you to, `out', yourself to people like us. He won't do blackmail."
"Really? What about the bridge?"
"Yeah, what happened at the bridge? You wouldn't take me with you!"
"Mark called, said he knew a guy who was crushing on me back in high school but was too timid back then to hit on me. His life took some strange turns after graduation. Now he has a secret that's going to kill him if he can't tell somebody, and make him want to die if anyone finds out. The whole thing would be pretty awkward but I'd be doing this kid the biggest favor of his life if I'd just show up and listen. Mark wouldn't tell me any more than that. Except... he did suggest that it would be easier for the boy if I let him think I already knew.
"When I got there I told Mark I was leaving unless he showed me some valid ID. He did, while cautioning me that the kid didn't know his real name and they both would like to keep it that way. Then Jay showed up and it was like all the pieces fell into place. I mean, it was pretty damn obvious. If it was possible to drop dead from embarrassment alone I think Jay would have."
"You got that right! The only thing that kept me from puking over the bridge rail was thinking I might follow it into the water."
"So... I could understand some timid little church mouse not having the nerve to hit on me. I could even see him being scared to death that people would find out about him going gay. What didn't make sense to me was why he had to tell anybody at all and me in particular. Especially when I heard that he wasn't any more interested in sex with men than I am. Then Mark told me about the list."
"The list?" He'd almost forgotten Marie was there.
"Uh-huh. After making a wildly impulsive date, he went home and made a list of all the people who would go completely bat shit if they ever found out he did something like that. Which isn't as crazy as it seems. Some people think better, more focused, when they write things down. And it's only a little bit nuts that he showed up for the date anyway. Doing one thing when you know that smart, or least sane people, would do something completely different is part of being human. But when he kept the date Jay brought the list with him. Then, when he was kneeling naked in front of this homo stud muffin, too scared to go through with it and way past the point where he could safely back out, he gave Mark the list."
"Uh-oh."
"Don't ask me what he was thinking. I'm not sure he could tell you either, not at the time and maybe not now. I can tell you the results. I've been there myself. He became a slut, ready to open his mouth or his legs whenever Mark feels like fucking him. His own desires, or lack of them, don't matter. I guess that makes it some kind of sexual assault. It can't be rape, not when he did everything but beg Mark to force him. Or maybe it is, wanting somebody else to make the decision isn't the same as saying yes. I know a little bit about that too. Enough that I automatically refused when Mark offered to let me watch.
"I wasn't all the way home before I started to wonder if I made the right choice. Marie and I spent way too much time discussing it even before Mark called me again. Today, it's decision time. I'm calling Mark, right now, to tell him you're here and invite him to come over."
She'd dialed the phone before I could do more than think about trying to stop her.
"Mark? Heather. Yeah, but I'd call you that even if he wasn't here, if it's the only name I use there's less chance I'll slip. Still want to do what we talked about? Any last minute requests? Oh. My. God. He'll run. I'm not kidding. Ok, maybe he won't, but he probably should, that's really evil. I should be too embarrassed to ask but I'm not. See you in a few."
"Mark is on his way over. He asked me to get you undressed and have you answer the door naked."
I stood there stunned while Heather took my face between her hands and kissed me more thoroughly than I thought a lesbian could manage. The paralysis continued while she unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it back off my shoulders. Soon I was stepping out of the last of the clothing bunched around my ankles. She continued as I waited for the inevitable knock on the door.
"That's all he asked for. It doesn't take a mind reader to know it would please him if your cock was hard and your ass was open and slippery when he gets here. What I don't know is how important pleasing him is to you."
She reached behind her then handed me a tube of something slippery. I was watching her face, hoping she'd keep her own eyes above my shoulders, as her hands traveled over my pecs, around my back and down to my ass. Smiling sweetly she pulled us firmly pelvis to pelvis, spreading my cheeks in the process.
"It's Ok, really, I do it too. I know, it's sort of degrading, making it easier for him to shove his cock into you. We both know you're not doing it for him. It isn't even for you, not like trying to make it nicer, you don't really want it nice. It's so he can use you without tearing you up. You care about that. He doesn't have to."
Heather started playfully bumping her denim covered crotch against my half hard cock.
"Mark is such a stud I doubt that he ever has trouble finding a place to stick it. You're not the first straight boy who spread for him. We had a long talk about where you're at and where this might be going. You and I are so much alike it'll feel like incest when you finally get around to doing me. Thinking about you being here for him is so incredibly exciting I'll bet you can feel the heat right through my Levi's. Don't get too embarrassed about me whispering and giggling with Marie."
Before I had much time to think about that a knock on the door let me know things were moving to a whole new level. I had the door half opened before it occurred to me that it might not be Mark on the other side. I couldn't have planned it that perfectly, going weak kneed at precisely the right time to drop down in front of him and open his fly. My ass was sloppy wet and about as relaxed as it could get with the girls watching. Saying it wasn't as bad as I expected makes it sound like I knew what to expect. If I'd been asked in advance I'd have sworn the whole thing was impossible.
It should have been impossible. Nobody had a gun to my head. Nobody was shouting threats or even talking mean. I'm not sure how to explain it. I was in this strange mental space where my actions were taking place a little ahead of my thoughts. It was just enough of a lag to make any sort of opposition pointless. Before the thought of resisting could form, I was already doing it. The emotional reaction was running way behind that but far more intense, a series of almost physical blows, delivered with no way to block or evade them.
As they watched me lock eyes with Mark and deliver a slow, wet, lick to the underside of his cock on the way to taking him in my mouth, emotionally I was still back at the coffee shop. Heather aware of what Mark did to me, excited at the thought, and thrilled that her lesbian lover might be able to join her in watching the abuse. By the time I felt the full weight of their snickers and comments regarding my talents as a cocksucker, I was already down on my hands and knees, rocking backwards onto his cock, trying to set a pace that would get him off while I was still able to walk. The way Marie giggled about my own erection flopping and jerking as he came in my ass would have knocked me flat if I hadn't already collapsed.
All I could do was lay there like a puppet with it's strings cut. Mark stood up, holstered his now flaccid tool, and went on his way. If I'd had any idea what was coming next I'd have made some effort to do the same. Instead, I was still trying to pull myself together enough to get dressed when Heather started the after game commentary.
"There now, you've imagined it, trained for it, mentally rehearsed it so many times that being taken by a bull queer doesn't frighten you. You hate it. It's sick and perverted, a parody of normal intercourse, turning what you feel into a parody of normal lust. That's more than ok, it's about as close as any guy will get to the way I feel with a man.
"Right this minute you'd probably like to roll the clock back far enough to have a `do over'. That's not an option. You don't have to commit to any particular course of action but you do have a choice to make. You can accept that under the right conditions you're a queer slut, actively engaging in assorted varieties of homosexual intercourse, doing whatever it takes to pleasure the man using you. You can decide that things have gone so far past whatever limits you still have that you're ready to stop it, go back to jerking yourself and your creepy fantasies. Or you can go forward. We can help each other make our fantasies real. I don't need a boyfriend any more than you do, but I get a twisted kick out of having a rapist, some creep using me to get his rocks off, just like you do. But it has to be a two way street. Dick is everywhere. For you to be special you have to bring something to the table I can't get anywhere else."
"I don't know what to offer. What can I do for you that nobody else can?"
"You already gave us a sample."
"You want to watch Mark fuck me? Make it like a regular thing?"
"Close. I want to be part of you outing yourself."
"You want me to tell people I'm queer?"
"No, that would be a lie, at least a little one, for a little while longer."
"Then what?"
"That list you made, of all the people who would freak out if they knew some perv was fucking you. Right now it can be used to blackmail you. It doesn't matter if Mark wouldn't do that. You can never be 100% certain. As long as there is some slim chance he would out you for saying no, you're going to say yes, to anything. The only way to stop that is to get ahead of it."
"I'm not sure I understand but I'm starting to get scared."
"You know that old line, you can't fire me, I quit? Mark can't blackmail you if it isn't a secret."
"Everybody on that list? That's like, you can't destroy my life if I get there first."
"If Mark takes it public you have no choice at all. He can tell anyone anything, even people not on the list. You'll have to deal with people who just found out giving you a hard time in front of friends who don't know yet. If you do it, you get to tell them one at a time, and pick a time when you can answer questions and put the best possible face on it. You can start with the people who mean the most to you. Once you have a few of them in your corner what each new person thinks will mean less and less to you. You'll also get something you can't get any other way."
"What's that?"
"Me. In public I'll be your girlfriend. You can show me off, introduce me to your folks and your friends. Privately, I'm with Marie, except for date night. A couple times a week, more or less, you get to rape me. It's not just so you can get your kicks, men act different around a girl they're fucking. People who see us together will know we're a couple. The more people who know you have a girl the easier it will be to laugh it off if some queer claims you're his bitch."
"What about Marie?"
To be honest, I was still so out of it I'd forgotten she was in the room, curled up on one end of the couch watching this play out.
"I want Heather to be happy, horny too, but happy is a good start. Men scare me, not as bad as they did before watching you with Mark, but I still don't think I'll ever want to be with one. In the physical side of our relationship Heather is more aggressive. I'll certainly let her know if I'm in the mood but I'm basically, `her girl'. We've tried reversing roles a few times but it wasn't very good for either of us. I'm not thrilled with the idea of sharing her but I'd rather have her spreading for a designated rapist than hanging with a parade of abusive jerks."
Heather picked that moment to get off the couch, giving me a hand as I awkwardly got to my feet. She followed that with giving me a different sort of hand, wrapping her slender fingers around my still hard cock.
"I'm not going to get you off right now. Go home or wherever, bust a nut, clean up, relax and when you're thinking with the big head again decide what you want. We'll never be soulmates, not even mates, friends with benefits is about as good as it can get. But those benefits can include things that would get you arrested with anybody else. Or you can pass. You could tell Mark you're done, but I don't think you will. Sooner or later he won't get what he wants from you, or maybe just for fun, he'll out you to somebody else on the list. That, or he'll get bored and pass you on to the next pervert, who might or might not be so picky about how he gets what he wants. While you're thinking about it keep in mind that I get off work at three. You can usually find me here any time after three thirty."
The End (of the beginning)