Death By Fucking Ch. 04

I was feeling a little guilty about it, but I've never known a woman before who I could do this to, just have her begging for it. It felt good.

"Dee Dee. Dee Dee, honey. How do you feel about me?"

Again I allowed my tongue to circle her clit, giving just enough stimulation to drive her crazy, but not enough to finish her off.

She couldn't take it anymore.

"All right, you bastard! I admit it. I love you. I love you more than I love my own life. I love you now and forever. I LOVE YOU."

I couldn't bring myself to finish her off like that. Instead I took her in my arms and entered her. I had to be inside her. We loved each other. I had to fuck her. As my dick slid into her she screamed her orgasm. I pumped her viciously as I could feel my own climax quickly approach. Again I sprayed her full of my seed, again I staked my claim. She was mine. It was the happiest moment of my life.

We lay in each other's arms for at least an hour, dozing, and recovering. Deirdre had her eyes closed and had her head buried in my shoulder. Finally she rolled away from me buried her head in the pillow and began to cry. She was quietly weeping into the pillow, but the crying seemed to gain momentum and suddenly she was bawling piteously, great sobs wracking her body.

I put my hand on her shoulder but she shuddered and moved away from it.

"Dee Dee, baby. What's wrong? Are you all right?"

She gasped out her answer between sobs. "I'm so sorry. I'm a horrible person! I know I'm awful! How can you stand me? You must hate me. Please don't hate me, Andrew. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say it!"

"Say what?" I asked disingenuously.

"You know perfectly well what!" she said. "Why do you pretend you don't know what I'm talking about?"

I tried soothing her. "Sweetheart, it's all right. I love you. I forced you to say it. I won't hold you to it. You don't have to love me if you don't want to."

Her wails increased. She could barely get the words out. "But I do! I do love you. I can't help how I feel. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it. I'm an awful person!"

"Yes, Dee Dee, you're just about the most awful person I know."

She was gasping and crying. She was anguished. She asked "Could you still love me anyway?"

I said "Only till the end of time."

That may have been the right thing to say. She flung herself on me, her head buried into my shoulder, her arms around my neck, crying inconsolably.

Men are dogs. This is not a theory, but accepted dogma among the cognoscenti. This poor girl was pouring her heart out to me. She was crying her eyes out; obviously broken-hearted at some real or imagined injury she apparently thought she was doing me.

Yes, I felt tugs on my heart strings to see such a pitiable sight. Yes, I wanted to hold her to my chest, pat her head, comfort her. But mostly I wanted to fuck her. I felt like a pig, but what could I do? Please refer to my 'man thinks with his dick' theorem.

Is there anything sexier in the world than a gorgeous naked woman, crying her eyes out, needing to be comforted the old fashioned way? And I was just the guy to do the comforting.

I reached to the night stand, grabbed some tissues and started to dry her eyes. I let her blow her nose a few times and then just held her. Slowly her sobbing stopped. She seemed to take a deep breath and slowly release it. I felt her go almost limp in my arms.

That's when I turned up her chin and deeply kissed her. The way I figured it was, for some reason she didn't want me to know how she felt about me. There was some deep dark secret lurking there, but I could worry about that later.

The fact is I tortured the truth out of her. It was easy. I'm thinking of volunteering my services to work for the army. I could be the official interrogator of all female prisoners. I'd make 'em talk.

But the truth is out. She admitted it to me again. She loves me. My theory here is: she is ready to fuck. She really wants to be fucked. Because now she can be fucked by the man she loves and who loves her, and now both of us know it. That's got to count for something, right?

I know I wanted to fuck her and for the very same reason. It's like sealing a compact. It's that signature on the dotted line that changes you from fuck-buddies to soul mates. It's the moment in time when both people start thinking about forever.

I took hold of myself and began to rub the head along Deirdre's pussy lips. She was wet already. I bet her crying made her horny too. She was just so vulnerable.

I didn't want to take advantage of her. I just wanted to take her.

I had her on her back, rubbing her with the head of my dick. I pushed the head between her lips and it slid in easily. It knew where it belonged. It kept going, moving slowly into her until it totally bottomed out. And there it stayed.

Our eyes met, and I saw the look in her eyes. It looked like adoration. I know that look. I had the same look in my eyes.

I whispered "I love you, Deirdre".

She said, "I love you too Andrew. You are my heart."

We slowly began to move, our hips achieving a lazy rhythm. I was moving only a few inches back and forth within her. We were loving each other.

I tenderly kissed her while continuing our slow romantic lovemaking. My hands roamed her body. They just wanted to touch that soft, soft skin. They just wanted to fondle those small round breasts. They wanted to feel her ass cheeks; grab them; pull her tighter to me.

She began to moan and hump. The romantic moment was building toward a sexual release. I rolled to my back, puller her on top of me, still impaled on my cock.

She hugged me, her head on my chest. Then she sat straight up, looking down at me, and suddenly her tears were a memory. That smile, the one that ignites her eyes, was suddenly shining like a light above me.

She said, "Oh, you're finally going to let me be in charge, you male chauvinist pig?"

I shook my head. "I may be naïve, but I'm not stupid. You've been in charge since the moment you walked into my life."

Her smile actually broadened. My God, she has a dimple! She leaned down and playfully kissed me, her tits rubbing lightly back and forth across my chest.

Deirdre held that position, our pubic bones frozen together. Suddenly my dick was being massaged by Deirdre's pussy. It was being squeezed, rubbed, toyed with.

I moaned, "Christ, Dee Dee!"

She smugly said, "You see? I'm not without talent."

She leaned forward, gave me a mind-boggling open mouthed kiss, then leaned back and started riding.

She said "Hold still, Andrew. Let me do this myself."

Her hips were grinding. She would lean forward, allowing a few inches of my dick to leave her pussy, then push backward, making those same few inches slide their way home.

At first it was a lazy ride. But then she started feeling it. Her eyes never left mine, but her body was in constant motion. Her slow grind gradually sped up. Her backward motion became jerky. She started to throw her hips into it. She was fucking me with power, grunting with the force of her strokes.

I realized she had achieved total role reversal as she was fucking my brains out and all I could do was lay there and take it. But I couldn't take it any more. She was riding and squeezing, squeezing and riding. I pushed back with as much force as I could muster and my passion exploded into her womb.

It was the push she needed as she arched her back, ground her pussy unmercifully against my dick and screamed her release.

We lay quietly for a long time afterwards in the glow of being in love. She was still on top of me; her head was lying on my chest. It felt good.

It was time that I learned what was bothering Deirdre. Whatever it was that was causing her such anguish, I had to address it. What kind of a lover am I if I can't ease her pain?

I held her as we talked. "Dee Dee. What is it that's bothering you? If there's some sort of problem, maybe I can help."

She just shook her head.

"What is it, Deirdre? Do you have a problem? Are you sick?"

She sadly smiled and shook her head again.

"You can't have babies, is that it?"

She sat up like a shot. "Babies! You never said anything about babies!"

I felt I was on shaky ground, here. She sounded angry. I wasn't sure whether it was good or bad that I had never said anything about babies. I didn't want to start her on another crying bender, so I tried to remain calm.

I kept my voice soft and reasonable. "Sweetie, how could I talk about babies when you wouldn't talk about next Friday?"

She seemed to be somewhere else for a second. I saw a tear in her eye. She stood and held out her hand to me.

"Thank you for another lovely evening, Andrew. We better call it a night."

How could something that was going so well turn so wrong. I had to ask her.

"Deirdre, are you angry with me? Did I say the wrong thing?"

She smiled and put her arms around me, hugging her head into my chest. "No, Andrew, you always say the right thing for me. We'll talk about this tomorrow night, maybe. I know you must be upset with me for not opening up, but it's not my choice to make. I promise I'll tell you everything you want to know as soon as I can."

What do you say to that? I wasn't going to get any answers tonight. My only option was to leave and hope for the best.

Friday at work was much like Thursday. We were plowing through the information now. We had a direction we were headed and everything was falling into place. I was glad for Deirdre, since obviously her performance is essentially evaluated with every job she does. She's good. She's really good. She seems to love her job.

I was as into the process as she was on Friday, but I couldn't help thinking about the things we had said the night before, especially the part about babies. How was I to interpret that? We had been having unprotected sex. This was Deirdre. I certainly had no concerns about disease. And she had assured me on Wednesday that there was no chance of pregnancy, so I didn't have to bother with condoms.

Is she on the pill? A woman who never has sex on the pill? I wouldn't think so. Maybe my second guess was right. Maybe she is sterile. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Sure, I want kids, but we could adopt if it came to that. I'm for ZPG anyway.

It's better that I not try to guess. My theory is I'm only making trouble for myself by trying to decide what particular stick is up Deirdre's lovely little butt. She'll tell me when she tells me. I'll deal with it or I won't deal with it.

Actually, I'm not really worried. Mostly I'm concerned about she and I being together. I couldn't think of anything that could possibly change that.

Deirdre remained her lovely, sweet-tempered self during the day. She was all business, as usual. But her words, her attitude, were all filtered through this relaxed happy demeanor. I just love to be around her.

As we were preparing to leave at 5:20, I asked her what I had wanted to ask her all day.

"Shall I see you this evening, Deirdre?" I guess my anxiety showed.

She took my hand. "Of course, Andrew; we've got to sort this out. I think tonight we'll try to do it, if that's okay with you. Pick me up in my room at about 7 tonight, okay? We'll have some dinner, then talk. Maybe I'll have a surprise for you."

I said, "No, thanks. I've had all the surprises I can handle in one lifetime. See you at 7."

I went home and changed, turned around and came back into the city. It was one of those things, you know. I hit every green light on the way out and every green light on the way back. I drove the speed limit, took my time, and arrived twenty minutes early.

Rather than sit and wait, I went straight up to her room. I'd rather be with her than waiting for her anytime.

When I knocked on her room it was 6:45. I was feeling fine, none of the pent-up arousal that had made me crazy the previous two evenings. I think my body had finally gotten the signal that Deirdre was going to be around for a little while and I didn't need to rape her every time I saw her. That's a theory I'm working on.

Standing in the hallway of that hotel, I was fine; calm, collected, fine. The door cracked open and she was there. She stood with the door partially opened, wearing a silken robe. Suddenly my hormones went crazy. My dick was suddenly engulfed with the flood of blood that roared into it. I felt a rush and was suddenly dizzy and passionately aroused.

I stepped into the room, closing the door behind me and took her in my arms before she could respond.

She had a startled confused look on her face. She looked scared. I covered her mouth with mine.

We were kissing, a kiss of frenzy. My hands were working, untying things, and suddenly she was disrobed. I picked her up and carried her to the bed, laying her on top of the spread.

I stepped back and began to remove my clothes, my eyes never leaving hers. I saw her watching me undress. She made little motions with her head, shaking it back and forth in slow little jerks. I heard her whisper "No…"

Her head may have been whispering 'no', but her body was screaming 'yes'. Her nipples were fully extended, and I could see that there was already moisture between her legs.

I spent as much time worrying about it as it took for me to remove the last of my clothes. I scrambled onto the bed, and I was with her.

She acted like she wanted to move but couldn't. I wasn't in a position to ponder her reluctance. I needed her worse than I had the first time we did this.

I rubbed my dick along her slit to pick up some wetness, and then slammed into her. She screamed. Her arms suddenly grabbed my ass, pulling me into her, her fingernails clawing me.

She felt different somehow. I was crazed with arousal. How could this woman do this to me? It was if the previous hard fuckings had 'worn off' and I had to reclaim my stake on her.

We were fucking like animals. My dick felt like an irresistible force. I hammered into her, but she gave as good as she got. I heard her scream her way through another orgasm. It didn't stop me. It didn't slow me down. I had to fill her with my seed. I had to claim her for my own. I was roaring my desire, my love, my need to own her.

I felt my climax building. My lips were on hers, demanding and receiving her passionate response. My dick expanded and filled with sperm. I was cumming and she was screaming again. I thought our passion would never end.

And then it was over. We both collapsed from our release. I took her in my arms to hold her.

Her head was moving back and forth. I heard her whisper "She said death by fucking."

Suddenly she was crying. It was like yesterday. She turned away from me, forcing her face into the pillow. She was bawling her eyes out. She was mumbling but her voice got louder till I finally could make out the words.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to do it. I'm such an awful person. I'm horrible."

Her breathing became labored as she was talking and crying at the same time, her breath coming in gasps.

I took her into my arms and said "Don't worry baby. I love you."

She cried louder. "How can you love me when you don't even know me?"

I kissed her eyelids. "I've known you since the beginning of time. I've loved you forever."

She opened her eyes and looked longingly into mine, still sobbing. She said "She said you were wonderful!" And she kept crying.

Who said I was wonderful. Carol? I always thought my secretary thought I was an arrogant little snot. I am an arrogant little snot.

All men are pigs, me in particular. I was learning that a crying woman was a sure way to make an aroused man. My dick was recovering again. With no more stimulation than a crying, beautiful, sexy, nude woman, it sprang back to life.

I had to be in her while I comforted her. It was an irrepressible need. I took hold of my manhood, found her nether lips, and slid into her again.

Her eyes flew wide. She said, "Oh my God! No, not again! Oh God! I think you should stop. Maybe you shouldn't do this. Oh God!"

Her eyes closed and again her arms were pulling me into her.

Suddenly I heard a voice from behind us. It said "At least you could have waited until you were introduced!"

I turned and there was Deirdre standing in the doorway of the bathroom, naked except for a towel wrapped around her wet hair.

I went into sensual overload.

"Damn, there's fucking two of you. I fucking knew it!!"

Donnie's Story

Dee Dee called me on Monday night. My sister had a new assignment in Cleveland, at a division of some company headquartered in Akron. We both work for the same company. We both do the same kind of work. We make the same salary. We own a house together. We've been together forever and it will remain that way, forever.

We're not just sisters. We're twins; identical twins. We're identical in every way. When we grew up no one could tell us apart. Momma used to dress us in identical clothes, so everyone knew they couldn't tell us apart. When we got old enough to know better, we insisted on separate wardrobes for each of us. That way people could tell us apart.

Well, that way people could think they could tell us apart. We regularly wore each other's clothes and pretended to be the other sister. It always worked, because we are truly identical. But now people thought they knew which one we were because of our wardrobe. Mine leaned towards pants and dresses. Dee Dee wore skirts with tops.

Except when Dee Dee wanted to be me or I wanted to be her for a day. Then we would dress in each other's clothes, go to each other's classes, date each other's boyfriends. No one caught on. Not ever.

Momma couldn't tell us apart. We never mentioned that we wore each other's clothes, and she never asked, though I think she may have suspected. No one else ever suspected. Daddy was helpless, he called both of us "D". "Hey D. Come give your Daddy a hug" he'd say. He never had a clue which one he was hugging.

I'm Donna, but my family calls me Donnie. My family has this odd thing about it. It's hereditary, I suppose. It must be something in the genes. If it's not in the genes, then it's something from the Twilight Zone. Because in our family, we only have girls. We only have twin girls.

Momma is a twin. Her twin was killed when she was only five years old, hit by a car while riding a tricycle. She admits that all the time, everyday, she feels that something is missing. She knows what it is. It's her sister.

Momma's momma was also a twin. And her momma before her. It's hard sometimes to trace our family tree back very far, because sometimes people kind of hid what was happening in our family. Besides which, we have no single family name to trace. We have maternal bloodlines in a patriarchal society.

Our family tradition is that the girls stay together, even after marriage. We have to. We wouldn't be complete without our sisters. I can't explain it any other way.

Dee Dee told me Monday that she was working with a very handsome young man. She said he was the sexiest thing she had ever seen. I could tell that she was infatuated with him.

Tuesday night Dee Dee told me she was starting to be obsessed with him. He was so hot she could hardly stand it. She said that he kept exhibiting the gallant reaction. That's what we called it back in high school when some boy got hard in class. Neither of us have much of a sex life anymore. When we accepted our positions with the company we knew that our social life was going to come to a halt.

Well our social calendar wasn't that full to begin with. We are thirty-five years old and I think we can now officially refer to ourselves as 'spinsters'. We are realistic about our prospects. The biological clock is winding down. Maybe our particular branch of the twin family tree is about to end.