Tom Drake's Descent Into Damnation

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Sometimes the past catches up to you and changes everything
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blaster666
blaster666
4,062 Followers

Normally I don't like reading stories that are more than a few pages. This one ended up being longer than I expected, so for the people like me I apologize if it is too long. I do hope you will read it and enjoy it. Please feel free to leave comments and feedback.

The shaggy looking young man leaned against the side of the doorway leading into the rundown looking apartment building, carefully eyeing each person heading in his direction. Arthur Bowen, his friends called him Mutt because of his unruly brown hair, fidgeted from one foot to the other one as he surveyed his surroundings. It was six-thirty in the afternoon and he needed to score some cash. He figured the people living in this dump would be easy pickings. The monkey on his back made him antsy while the switchblade knife in his palm made him feel powerful. Most of the people in the area were elderly, but there were a few that looked as if they could have some money. Not a fortune, he surmised, but surely enough to fix him right up for the rest of the day. His eyes focused on the man coming his way.

The approaching man spotted Arthur way before he reached the stoop to his building. Another piece of trash he thought to himself. It seemed to him that there was an abundant supply of scum in the city. His sharp gray eyes watched the shaggy guy intently as he drew closer to the stoop.

That's right old man; just a little closer Arthur chuckled under his breath. His streetwise eyes took all of the man in. The closer the man got, the more Arthur realized that he wasn't as old as he'd first thought. The man was wearing work boots and faded jeans with a black t-shirt almost covered by the threadbare trench coat hanging off his slumping shoulders. He also walked with a slight limp. The man's salt and pepper hair was short under the black ball cap that sat upon his head. With the baggy long coat on it was hard to tell if the man was in good or bad shape. He guessed the man to be about six-foot tall; just a shade under his own six-foot two-inch frame. Yep, easy pickings Arthur told himself as he stood up and approached the man as he reached the stoop.

"Spare a smoke," Arthur asked as he blocked the man's path.

The man stopped and gazed at Arthur's face before saying, "Don't smoke."

"Then how about just giving me your wallet and I'll go buy some," Arthur barked, as he brandished the knife in plain sight.

"How about you lick the shit out of my ass instead," the man said calmly.

"What the fuck! Give me your fucking money motherfucker," Arthur yelled as he stepped closer to the man.

The man had an evil looking smile on his face as he said, "Not today dickhead."

There was something in the man's eyes that sent a chill of fear down Arthur's spine, but the monkey on his back wouldn't be denied. He lunged forward with the knife pointed at the man's mid-riff. He heard the clatter of the knife hitting the concrete before he felt the pain shooting up his arm. He had just enough time to look at his shattered wrist before the toe of the man's work boot crushed his balls. Screaming and retching at the same time he doubled over and fell to the ground. Going in and out of consciousness he felt someone shaking his shoulder. Bleary-eyed he managed to look up at the man squatting next to him.

"Hey butt wad, can you hear me?"

"Huh?" Arthur wasn't sure where the question was coming from until the man shook him again.

"Can you hear me," the man calmly asked once more.

"Yeah, I hear you man," Arthur stammered between the pain.

"Good, because I'm only going to say this once. Stay the fuck out of this neighborhood."

"Whatever you say mister," Arthur sputtered, groaning as the man helped him to his feet.

"Just so we're clear. If I see you around here again I won't be as gentle as I was this time."

Tom Drake watched the shaggy guy painfully shuffle off down the sidewalk until he reached the end of the block and disappeared around the corner. Unknown to Tom, Miranda Waters had watched the whole scene play out from her second floor window. A shiver ran down her spine and she became aware of the dampness in her panties as she watched her neighbor turn and enter the building.

"For Christ sake Miranda, get a grip girl. He's old enough to be your father," she rebuked herself.

Unfortunately, older guys were Miranda's weakness. Growing up not knowing who, or where her father was, had caused her to seek out the company of mature men. Now at twenty-three years old and being a registered nurse, she was sure she had daddy issues. All her friends kidded her when they went out clubbing and Miranda flirted with the older men. Her friends called her the geezer getter. To them anyone over thirty was well passed their prime and were to be avoided at all cost. She had a different take on older guys. She found them more sensitive and caring, and a hell-of-a-lot more appreciative of her than guys her own age. She owed her nursing career to the generosity of an older man. He had put her through school, fed and clothed her and paid her rent. All she had had to do was let him push his tiny penis into her a couple times a month. It had been a sad day when he had passed away a little over a year and a half ago.

Tom Drake entered the run-down looking building through the heavy glass door after using his key to unlock it. On the outside the building was as shabby as the rest of the block. The entire block's ground floor was comprised of small shops, a mom and pop grocery store, a couple of stores selling cheap knock-offs and at the end of the block a neighborhood bar. On the second and third floors the owners had transferred the space into nice one and two bedroom walk-up apartments. There were four apartments per floor. Unfortunately for Tom, his was on the third floor. By the time he reached the second floor his bad knee was giving him fits. He stopped just at the top of the stairs and bent over to rubbed the stiffness. The sound of a door opening made him look to his left.

"Are you alright Tom," Miranda asked, concern written on her face.

Tom stood up and studied the girl. She was wearing a pale blue floor length robe with one hand clutching the upper half closed. He guessed her height to be somewhere around five-eight, and she couldn't have weighed more than one-thirty. She had piercing blue eyes and thick, waist length, straight ebony hair. As with most people in the city she had a pale complexion, but when she smiled her whole face lit up. Her full lips spread in a smile as she watched him study her. Her smile was infectious and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Yeah, I'm fine Miranda. Knees acting up is all," he muttered while drinking in her beauty.

"That's what happens when you kick someone in the balls," she snickered.

"Oh, you saw that huh?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry about that," Tom apologized.

"Wait here a minute," Miranda said before retreating back into her apartment. She returned holding a tube of some sort of ointment in her hand, along with her keys.

After locking her door she handed Tom the tube and took his elbow in her hand saying, "Let's get you upstairs and I'll put this on your knee."

When he tried to protest she told him to shush and guided him toward the stairs. He could walk on his own, easily, but the feel of her closeness and the sweet aroma floating off of her made him give in to her demands. As they climbed the stairs Tom thought back to the encounters he'd had with her. They had talked several times in the six weeks that he had been living here. Mostly when each went down to check their mail, or when they passed in the stairwell. They had even drank a few beers together at the local bar. It seemed to Tom that she must have seen him going into the bar on those occasions, because each time he had just gotten seated when she showed up. He wasn't much of a talker, but he had enjoyed her company.

They reached his door and she helped him inside where he took off the cap and trench coat and placed them on the coffee table. Her first impression of the place was that it lacked any personal touches. There were no photographs of loved ones anywhere, and the only things hanging on the walls were framed certificates. There was one large framed panel that appeared to hold a rather big collection of military ribbons. On closer inspection she noticed that all the framed certificates were from the military also. She realized that she had told him her life's story in the bar those couple times, but he hadn't really told her anything about his.

"You were in the service I take it," she stated the obvious.

"Yeah," he replied as he plopped down on an overstuffed brown sofa near the front window.

"So, how long were you in? Judging by the dates on these certificates, I'd say a long time," Miranda commented while gazing at them.

"When I look back on it, it seems like forever."

Turning to face him she said, "And how long is forever?"

"Twenty-seven years," he replied returning her gaze.

"You can't be old enough to have served that long, can you?"

"I'm forty-six. I joined when I was nineteen."

"Wow! Except for the salt and pepper hair, you don't look a day older than forty," she chuckled.

She was actually impressed. His face was lined somewhat, but his body didn't seem to have an ounce of fat on it from what she could tell. His eyes were bright and held the glint of intelligence. The dampness returned to her panties. Picking up the tube of ointment where he'd laid it on the coffee table, she sat next to him and told him to remove his pants.

His eyes grew wide and he said, "Excuse me?"

"Tom, I'm a nurse, you don't have anything I haven't seen before," she stated, then added, "I can't put this on over your clothes."

He thought about it for a minute then unlaced his boots and kicked them off. Hesitantly he stood and started to undo his pants. He could see she was amused by his shyness. Pushing his pants down past his knees he sat back down and removed them the rest of the way. He felt funny sitting there in just a t-shirt and tight boxer-briefs. He preferred the snugness of the brief style boxers for their comfort and support over the conventional baggy boxers. He heard her sharp intake of breath when the jagged scar that ran down over his knee was visible. She could tell that it wasn't that old of an injury.

"This happen in the service," she asked, running her fingertip lightly over the pinkish flesh.

"Yep. Ended my career. I was shooting for thirty years, but shit happens."

"The certificates are all from the Department of the Navy. What did you do, fall down a flight of stairs onboard a ship," she asked half heartedly, still entranced by the jagged scar.

"Booby trap," came his reluctant answer.

"Booby trap? Just what did you do in the Navy," she asked, finally looking up into his eyes.

"Things that no one else wanted to do. Can we leave it at that?"

"Sure," she replied as she uncapped the ointment.

Pushing the coffee table out of the way, she sank to her knees in front of him and began rubbing in the ointment. He flinched slightly at her first contact with his skin but settled down quickly. She was acutely aware of the bulge in the front of his underwear. She was also aware that in her position the top of her robe was opened enough to give him more than just glimpses of her naked breasts. She was sure he had noticed when his cock started to expand in the tight confines of the briefs. The dampness in her panties was spreading.

Tom watched her hands apply the ointment until he noticed her robe opening wider. He couldn't help but look. Nestled inside the fabric, and looking quite firm, were two of the finest looking globes he'd ever seen. The angle wasn't good enough to see her nipples, but he could tell that her breasts had to be in the 36C range. His cock began to show its appreciation for the view, making him very uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her to think he was some sort of pervert.

Miranda was growing bolder in her manipulations, running her hands higher on Tom's thigh than necessary. She wasn't sure how he felt, although the growing bulge in his boxer-briefs should have been a good indication, but the dampness in her panties was threatening to become a flood.

"That should do it, don't you think," Tom grunted, taking her hands in his to stop them from going any higher.

"Oh. Uh... sure. Help me up," she whispered.

Without thinking, Tom stood up in front of her and reached down to help her to her feet. At first he was unaware that his expanded cock was readily outlined in the cotton fabric of his briefs and was stretching down toward the leg opening. When he had sat down the leg of his underwear had ridden up, and now that he was standing the tip of his cock was just peeking out the leg opening enough for Miranda to get a decent look at it.

Miranda's gaze was on Tom's crotch as he stood and she saw the outline of his cock in his shorts. When the tip of his cock popped out of the leg opening she swore she orgasmed slightly at the sight of its bulbous head mere centimeters from her face. The urge to reach up and run her fingers over it was almost overpowering. Unfortunately or fortunately, she wasn't sure which one she wanted, Tom was faster than she thought a man could be. He pushed his cock back up into his shorts in a split second, but not before she got a good look at it. She was amazed at how beautiful it was. Judging by the shape of the outline it had to be close to seven inches long and fairly thick.

"I'm so sorry Miranda," Tom repeated profusely as he helped her to her feet.

"Don't worry about it. Shit happens," she chuckled, as she stood in front of him watching his face turn all sorts of red.

Quickly scooping up his pants and struggling into them he couldn't help but chuckle himself. Miranda capped the ointment, placed it on the table then started for the door. Halfway there she turned and smiled at him.

"I guess I haven't seen it all before," she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh God," Tom said bowing his head in embarrassment.

Laughing Miranda turned back to the door. Just as she opened it Tom called out to her.

"Miranda..."

"Yes Tom," she replied, half in and half out of the door.

"Would you at least let me buy you dinner for your help?"

"I would like that. How about this Friday?"

"Sounds good. I'll come down and get you around seven."

"Seven it is," and with that she was gone.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Tom wasted no time dropping his pants and sitting back on the sofa. With practiced hand he began stroking his still hard cock while visions of Miranda's breasts danced in his head. No, he wasn't a pervert he told himself as his hand moved faster up and down his shaft. He was just a man who needed release. And release came quicker than he expected, sending jets of hot cum up and out of his throbbing manhood, only to make a mess on the floor.

Just about the time Tom's spunk was hitting his floor, Miranda had two fingers stuffed inside her furry pussy seeking to bring release to her quivering cunt. The fingers dug into her opening while the palm of her hand raked across her engorged clit sending jolts of pleasure along her nervous system. With her other hand she reached up and pinched her stiff nipples, giving each turns as she neared her climax. With visions of Tom's blood-filled cock in her head she began to shudder. Faster and faster she plunged her fingers into herself until she crested the peak of her intense orgasm and plunged over the cliff of pure pleasure. Wave after wave of shudders racked her body as a gush of pussy cream trickled out and ran down between her butt cheeks. Totally spent she lay on her bed and let the feelings of euphoria wash over her. Her sleep was filled with erotic dreams of Tom making passionate love to her in every conceivable position.

Friday took forever to arrive. Tom spent his days thinking, and re-thinking what he knew about Miranda. Her mom had had a brief fling and had gotten pregnant. The man had left without even knowing that he was a daddy. Miranda's mother raised her by herself, making sure that she grew up never really knowing anything about her father. Her mom had been very closed mouthed about the subject. Miranda had also told him about the sugar daddy that had put her through nursing school. He didn't hold that against her. They both had gotten what they wanted out of that relationship. He kind of envied the guy actually. He also knew that he was way too old for her, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy her company. With that thought in mind he started getting ready for his dinner date with her.

Miranda watched the time tick down on the clock. She had been dressed and ready for almost an hour. Dressed in a slinky black dress that only reached the middle of her thighs, her long ebony hair pulled back into a ponytail, she was a vision of loveliness. She hoped she wasn't over doing it with the short dress, but she didn't really care. She wanted to turn Tom on to the point of no return. With that thought in mind she had skipped putting panties on. Instead she had taken some light black panty hose and cut the crotch out of them before putting them on. If she got a chance to flash her twat at Tom she would, and if she had to pee she wouldn't have to pull down her panties to do it. As far as she was concerned it was a win win situation. Miranda knew she wasn't a slut. Hell, she hardly ever went to bed with anyone. There was just something about Tom that she couldn't resist. She hoped the feeling was mutual.

At precisely 7pm she heard a knock on her door. She wasn't surprised by Tom's precision; he was ex-military after all. She would even bet that if she looked into his dresser drawers everything would be put away with careful planning. Opening the door she was momentarily taken aback. Tom was dressed in charcoal gray slacks, brown loafers and a crisp white shirt with maroon tie. He wasn't wearing a jacket since it was still summer and quite warm outside. The white shirt fit him snug enough for her to tell that he was extremely fit and trim for a man of his age. His face was freshly shaved and the smell of a subtle aftershave filled her nostrils. When he smiled at her she felt a tingle in her pussy. Got to watch that she reminded herself, not wearing any panties does have its downside.

They walked down to the ground floor where another surprise waited for Miranda. Tom had hired a car service for the evening. He gave her a warm smile as he opened the back door to the black towncar for her. She returned the smile and slowly slid into the seat making sure to open her legs wide enough for Tom's twinkling eyes to get a brief flash of her crotch. The bulging of his eyes was all the confirmation she needed to be sure he had seen what she had wanted him to. Her smile spread wider as he went around and got in on the other side, a bulge visible in his slacks.

The place he'd chosen to take her turned out to be one of her favorite places to eat. LaFontaine was situated near the heart of the city and catered to a select clientele. All the tables were sat in such a way with partitions around them that the diners had a modicum of privacy. The place was intimate and pricey, that's why she'd only eaten here on two occasions. The hostess led them to a table sat back in a dim corner and left after taking their drink orders. Tom ordered coffee and she asked for a long island iced tea. After their drinks arrived they sat back and enjoyed the soft music being piped into the room. Miranda decided to have a little fun with Tom before the waiter took their order. She scooted her chair back a little and gazed down at her lap with a frown etching her face. Tom noticed the frown.

"Oh darn," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

blaster666
blaster666
4,062 Followers