Apples and Oranges

11.

Sitting there sucking on Alan's finger in a public place, I was acutely aware of my pussy on the hard, polished wood of the seat. I felt as though there were two different people inhabiting my body. One, lost in sensation, with her bare ass and breasts almost exposed, while the other sought to remind the crazy one of her of her surroundings. I wasn't sure which of these was the real me. I felt as though Alan had been slowly tearing me in half ever since we met.

The waiter appeared at Alan's elbow with the check but I demanded he hand it to me. I reminded him that it was my turn to treat. Alan smiled agreeably and passed me the leather folder. I took my wallet from my purse and looked at the check. Unbelievable, I thought in shock. It was over 600 dollars. I hoped I kept the dismay from my face. Swallowing, I got out my checkbook.

"I am sorry, Mademoiselle, but we are not allowed to accept a check."

The waiter informed me of this with what I thought was a touch of disdain. His remark attracted the notice of a couple at another table and I felt my cheeks grow hot. I asked Alan to assure him that my check was good but he only smiled and shrugged at me as if there was nothing he could do. The corner I had talked myself into amused the bastard.

"Well, show me where you wash the dishes then, mister!" I said, loud enough for all to hear.

Alan laughed and reached out for the check. He signed it and the waiter bowed and left.

Great, I thought, he wouldn't take my check but an inch of ink from Alan was fine. Alan rose to leave and I almost forgot to rearrange my skirt before I joined him. That would have been the icing on the cake, I said to myself.

Instead of calling a cab, Alan took my hand and led me across to the boardwalk. He sat us down on an empty bench. We watched the ocean roll in to slap at the rocks below and my anger with him over his tricks at lunch faded. I could feel him waiting for me to speak.

No one had ever asked me to voice my innermost thoughts before. I decided he was right about me, that I must be a strange duck. It was harder today, to let him into the private place in my mind, than it had been to let him take control of my body last night.

"When I was very young," I said, at last, "I saw a man forcing a woman to take him in her mouth. I could see that she didn't want to do it but he pulled her head down by the hair and slapped her face until she did as he demanded."

I hesitated for a moment, remembering the scene. I felt Alan's eyes draw back from the surf below and fasten on me.

"It was in a small park near our house. I was about to cut through a hedge, as a shortcut to the swings, when I came upon them. They were on a blanket, in a small clearing surrounded by shrubs. When I saw what was happening, I thought perhaps I should go and tell someone. Instead, I remained hidden and watched them. I had never seen a man's penis until then and even though I was afraid, I could not stop watching. Tears were running down the woman's face and I felt sorry for her but the sight of the man's thing moving in her mouth excited me. It gave me a strange new feeling between my legs. As far as I can remember, that was the first time I ever touched myself down there in that way."

As I had been relating this, Alan had put his arm around me. Now he leaned his lips to my ear.

"Touch yourself that way now." He whispered.

As he said it, I admitted to myself that I recalling the scene so vividly made me want to. It always has. It was what I usually pictured when I masturbated. I moved one hand down between my legs and placed my other over Alan's fly. I felt him stir.

"I remember that the woman seemed to be choking but the man wouldn't release her head. I heard him say 'Swallow it. Bitch.' He finally let go of her and fell back on the blanket. When she was free, I expected her jump up and run away. Instead, she put her head on his shoulder and just stayed there crying.

Ever since then I have had dreams in which a stranger forces me to suck him off. I never see the stranger's face and, of course, I never cry on his shoulder. He just uses me and leaves me lying on the grass. When I have this dream, I always cum while I am being made to suck him. There, Alan, now you know what a slut I must be. I must be sick when the thought of someone abusing me makes me come."

He didn't answer but remained with his arm around me. The fingers in my pussy were now drenched and Alan's cock was hard under my hand. Suddenly, he took my hand from his groin and stood up.

"Come on." He said.

"Where are we going now" I asked, startled at his abrupt change of mood.

He refused to enlighten me. I had to assume that he had become as aroused as I and wanted to get us back to his place. I had to hurry along beside him to keep up with his longer stride. After turns down three or four streets, we arrived at a small park and I knew instantly that he wanted to enact my fantasy.

When he led me into a tiny enclosed clearing it was almost a case of déjà vu. He helped me out of the expensive leather jacket he had paid for and spread it carelessly on the grass. He made me sit on it.

"Alan, I…"

"Shush, Miara. Wait right here until I return. It won't be long, I promise."

With that, he disappeared into the bushes. I sat there hugging my knees and waiting. I was not sure what I was waiting for. I guessed that Alan would reappear and 'assault' me. I felt idiotic now and wished I had never told him a thing.

The minutes stretched out. Sitting there, I again thought about the conflicting urges this man had stirred in me. In such a short time he had taken me so completely out of my own life. I was beginning to wonder if I would be able to find my way back.

I felt my hair grabbed and my face was suddenly forced into the grass. My heart had jumped into my throat. I wanted to tell Alan he was being too rough but my mouth was full of grass. Then my head was jerked up and I was faced with the hard cock I had so often imagined.

"Suck it, bitch."

A sick feeling shot through me. The voice was not Alan's! I tried to jerk back and rise but the hand in my hair was inflexible. I felt my face being slapped and I began to cry.

With a sense of the inevitable, I opened my mouth. I had been here so many times in my dreams that I knew what I must do. I hollowed my cheeks and began to suck. The cock began forcing itself into my throat. I wanted to use my hands to at least prevent it from choking me. My arms refused to answer the call though and hung limply at my sides. While the tears continued to roll down my cheeks, I felt it begin to happen. The hands that had refused to help me, now began to claw at the ache that had sprung to life between my legs. My hips were frantically humping my hand as the faceless man fucked my throat. I heard a groan and my face was pulled hard to him. The cock in my mouth began to throb and there was a hot splash against the back of my palate as he ejaculated. I felt myself squirting onto my hands as if in answer.

I must have blacked out briefly. When I came to, I was still on the ground, with my head in Alan's lap. He was stroking my hair tenderly. Just like the woman I had seen so long ago, I just lay there crying and letting him hold me.