I sat at the airport the bar, nursing a martini. It must have been my sixth. I was twenty-six and hadn't quite shaken the outlandish tolerance for alcohol I developed in college and only felt buzzed. A woman with brown hair, brown eyes, a chocolate skirt suit and burgundy lipstick was making conversation with a man closer to her age on the adjoining L of the bar, but her eyes kept looking my way. When the heavyset man in his early forties announced that he had to make his flight, I moved over and sat down a stool away from her, too shy to actually sit next to her. We smiled a bit without making full eye contact and finally I introduced myself.

"I noticed that you put on your brown eyes to match your suit. The effect is charming. My name's Cole."

"I'm Trish," she said with a smile.

"But your lips. They're the color of dried blood. Do you feed on the living, Trish?"

"You've been drinking," she announced, but the smile didn't quaver.

"Not nearly so much as it appears. Or it appears to be more than I have. Which is appropriate."

"I'm not sure anything about this is appropriate."

"Where are you headed?"

"Cleveland."

"Appalachian country. I've been through the airport there. I sat on a bench opposite a man who leaned on the wall and scratched his balls for ten solid minutes."

"I'm passing through to Charleston."

"Nice homes there."

"I know."

"Would you like to see me smile?" I asked.

"Do you think I care if you smile?"

"It makes my face even prettier," I told her slyly. I was strikingly attractive: fit body, blonde hair with bangs that hung into my eyes, and blazing blue eyes. But my face was pretty rather than handsome. "Tell me you're not intrigued."

"Slightly."

"Tell me you're not warm."

"That's the alcohol.

"Sigh for me," I said, and smiled.

Trish let out a shallow sigh.

"Now breathe in deeply, through your nose."

Trish began to, then understood and blushed beat red.

Could I have your phone number, Trish?

"You can have my card." She opened her purse, a bit flustered, flipped through her wallet, and placed it face down on the bar. I set my hand on top of hers before she had a chance to withdraw it. She stared at our hands as my fingers began to toy with hers. "This is the only time in my life that I've done this," she said.

"Done what?"

I'm married.

"He can come too.

"He's meeting me at the airport.

"Who sits up front?"

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I don't want you to know where we live. Social life in Charleston is very serious business and we participate in it. The airport Hilton will have to . . .

"Do?" I supplied.

"Listen to me." Trish dug into her purse again and pulled out a handful of cash. "I want you to get a room and then go downstairs and sit at the bar. Don't drink anymore for God's sake. When you see us," she shrugged. "Follow your instincts."

I motioned to the bartender for another drink, making a set of hand gestures that was more elaborate than truly necessary. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Trish make a slashing gesture with her hand across her throat. The bartender smiled at me and I wobbled my head. He shook his. "So, I've had enough?" I asked Trish.

"What do you think?" It seemed a statement. She lifted the marishino cherry out of her daquari and bit it in half on its little plastic sword. I opened my mouth, expectantly. "Oh, lord, you have gall."

Huddling over my waning martini, I wracked my brain for things to say. Finally, I decided to open my mouth and see what words came. "Trish," I began then paused.

"Cole?"

"Trish, trust me when I say this but, when I was sitting over there, on the other side of the bar that is, I couldn't help but notice your I don't know what.

Trish burst into a quick laugh. "That's the worst pickup line I've heard in years." She arched back on her barstool, pushing out her chest, tossing her hair then rumpling it a bit so it hung about her face. "You can do better than that, can't you Cole. Compliment me."

"I don't think you understand. It's not your beautiful form, it isn't your lovely eyes or pouting, perfect lips. It's that you remind me of someone or something, only I know that I've never encountered it. A dream. Maybe a dream.

Trish brushed my hand aside and lifted the olive out of my martini. "You could have at least said I was a vision." Twiddling the olive about on its wooden splint, she asked, "Do you ever wonder why these martini olives lack pimentos?"

I smiled. "You think I've never been to a cocktail party."

Trish sucked air through the center of the olive, holding its body between her lips then, with a show of her tongue, pulled it back into her mouth. "Nothing quite so erotic as watching a man suck the pimento out of an olive."

"It's harder then it looks," I joked.

"No it's not." She smiled. "Cole, are you coming with me? To Cleveland?"

"To Charleston."

"I should have known."

"I can promise the airplane lavatory would be well occupied otherwise.

Trish shook her head, smiling oddly. She dug some money out of her purse. "Find a room at the airport Hilton in Charleston, then wander down to the bar. My husband will want to meet you."

I blinked.

"Bartender!" Trish called. "I don't see a clock." She tapped the back of her wrist and winked at me.

In the hotel bar, I sat at a small table in the far corner of the room and watched Trish and her husband order drinks, morose at the opportunity that was slipping away. Trish hadn't so much as looked at me and, with her husband present, I didn't have the nerve to approach the two. When I walked to the register to pay my tab, Trish looked in my direction and exclaimed, "John, John, that's the young man I was telling you about, the one I met in Denver. He's quite a character."

"Is he, now?" John asked.

"Only when I'm in character," I said with a weak smile.

"And are you?"

"In character?" I raised my eyebrows at John. "Always."

"What do you play? What are you playing now? An exhausted traveler?"

"The odds," I said, not making eye contact.

John smiled, and glanced at his wife who smiled back. His eyes brightened. "Are the odds long?"

I blushed slightly. "John, the odds are that you'll find the rooms quite comfortable here, but on the pricey side. Nights alone are not welcome in strange towns." I looked forlornly at John. "You two have been drinking. You shouldn't drive."

"Are you offering us a bed for the night?"

"I'm sure I have a spare towel at any rate."

"We could use a hot shower."

Trish looked up at me. "Cole," she said. "You have a hole in you that longs to be filled. Am I right?"

"Of course. Would you like me to run the water while you two finish your meal?"

"Make yourself comfortable. We'll be up in a bit."

At the bar, I watched Trish and her husband at opposite ends of a small table. First they ordered drinks, then order food. I had obeyed and ordered a ginger ale, though I'd had two drinks on the plane to calm my nerves. Sauntering over to the two of them, I asked, "Alms for the poor?"

Trish's husband scowled at me.

"It's okay, honey," Trish supplied. "I know this young man. He's peculiar, but quite charming if you give him the chance. Be charming, Cole."

I fumbled for words, more at ease with women than with men. "I was watching the two of you. I'm not a watcher by nature. I'm a doer. That watch, Mr. Trish's husband. It's quite nice. You must be quite proud of it.

You're drunk, aren't you?

"No, merely a people pleaser. I enjoy pleasing people. As I said, I'm not a watcher by nature, but some people are.

Trish's husband shifted in his seat.

"Your name?" I asked.

"John."

"Are you in the mood for some irony, John?"

John glanced at Trish, who smiled back at him. "He's only making a joke, dear. I'm quite sure Cole is free for the evening."

John smiled at me carnivorously. "Are you a whore by profession?"

I pulled a chair over from another table and sat between them. "By preference," I murmured, ashamed through the drunkenness. "I'll make you a deal, John," I said in a low voice. "I'll suck your cock if you agree to cum in my mouth."

"I'm sure we can work something out," he said with a brazen smile.

"Men," Trish sighed.

"Mommy, you're embarrassing me in front of my new friend," I groaned.

"Oh, dear God. Cole, perhaps you'd better just make your way to your room. Alone."

I reached into my breast pocket and retrieved one of the two key cards the desk clerk had given me and placed it on the table. "You really should keep an eye on your husband, Mrs. Trish. He's likely to stray to room 302." I slapped my own ass as I walked away from the two of them and headed towards the elevator.

I ordered a bottle of wine from room service on my way upstairs, decidedly drunk now, light of heard, and carefree now that the plans for the night had been settled. The wine arrived in a carafe. I took a long pull straight from it then set it on the dress, considering my options. I could strip naked and climb into bed, or perhaps get in the shower instead. I could leave my clothes on to keep things awkward for John and Trish, or I could disrobe and behave as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

Thinking it would be fun to tease them a bit, I removed my clothes and hid them from sight, then turned the television on. I began rubbing my dick a bit in anticipation. For reasons I won't go into, I had begun shaving my pubic hair during a recent affair. I had planned to grow it back out, but it was a "not just yet" sort of thing. It turned me on.

When the knock at the door came, I muted the television and moved to the door. "Hi, you two," I said when I cracked it and saw John and Trish. "Come right on in. Come in, come in, come in. Me? I'm just watching television." I swayed my ass the least little bit as I led them into the room.

"I hope we having caught you at an inopportune moment," Trish said, picking right up into the game.

"Oh, not at all." I turned round, my hand absently on my stomach, straying downwards. Trish smiled as she followed it with her eyes until it reached my hairless crotch and grasped my balls and cock together, massaging them. She mouthed something and looked back into my eyes. John, however, could stop staring at my half flaccid penis. "Something caught your eye?"

Wordlessly, John advanced on me, pulling me close for a kiss. The experience was unpleasant but I let it happen. When he pulled back, I looked into his eyes. "You fucking want to," I told him, not sure what would happen next.

John hurriedly stripped off his clothes and sank to his knees before me. Taking his cock in my mouth, he began to work at it clumsily, bobbing his head so wildly that I had trouble keeping my balance.

"You take that so good, honey," Trish said, heading into the bathroom. "I think he need some help though, Cole."

Taking her cue, I grabbed John's head on either side and held it as still as I could. Gently at first, I began fucking his mouth. Caught off guard by his loss of control, he knelt stock still and sucked and worked at my cock with his tongue as I gently made love to him. When I saw Trish return from the bathroom, knowing what she wanted, I picked up the pace, thrusting in and out of John's face as I would any pussy or asshole. John began to gag and pull back but I wouldn't let him. "You like that cock, John?" I asked. "So hot, so wrong. Is it everything you thought it would be?"

Trish held up a travel sized bottle of hair conditioner and I released John's head. "Who's the lucky boy?" she asked, tossing it to me. I caught it in my right hand and looked down at John. Typically submissive with women, I had no desire to be so with him. "Bend over, you whore. I can't fucking get your ass out of my head. I want to be inside it, need it." I lubed my dick with the conditioner and found John's entrance. "Your cunt is going to feel so good," I said and pushed into him. He let out a long groan as I slid in with one smooth stroke. "Daddy's home, you fucking goddess. Did my cock sheath miss me? Huh? Did your hot fucking ass miss me?" John whimpered as I fucked him. I felt nothing. It was the most mechanical sex I'd ever had. And John knew as well as I did that he was not submitting to me, but rather to his wife. "That shit tunnel of yours is so fucking good, the way it grips my cock, clings to it, needs it. It's a shame you're such a fucking whore. Honey, you know you're a whore, don't you? A beautiful fucking god-man-whore. Let me pray, let me pray to your hot, tight pussy and bathe it in cum, an enema of hot fucking cum." I was really slamming into him now and, if he took pleasure in it, he showed no sign. "I'm going to fuck that fucking hot little ass. Cum with me, baby. Cum with me." I reached around and grabbed the head of his dick and he let out a scream that died to a garbled whimper. "You fucking slut. Bitch. Whore. Goddess. Take my seed." I fell silent to focus and spent myself less than a minute later. When I let go of John's hips, he sunk down to a crouch, hands still on the edge of the bed.

"Make me," he sighed in between ragged gasps. "Make me."

I turned to Trish, bewildered. "Grab his belt, Cole," she said. Quickly rummaging through the clothes on the clothes on the floor, I found John's pants and pulled the belt out through the loops. I held it and stared at her.

"Fine," she said and approached and took it from me. Bending it, she began whipping John's back. "This is what you get," she cried. "This is all that you get." The beating didn't last long, but I wouldn't have much cared if it had. It was more with a detached, contemptuous fascination that I watched, rather than feeling disturbed as I might have guessed. Though I did wince when he let out a long groan and spontaneously came on the floor.

John leaned in and placed a biting, sucking kiss on my collar bone that raced right through me. Then he sank to his knees and took my cock in his hand. I watched him work at me with his fist until I grew hard, murmuring to me as he did. "You're a dirty boy, Cole. You shouldn't have shown this to me."

"John," I chirped in whine. "Please don't fuck me. Anything but that." I looked up at Trish and feel into a haze of fascination as she stripped before me. "Take me to the river, drop me in the water," I sang softly, unsure of what was happening.

I felt a wet caress on my cock and looked down, into John's eyes. He broke the gaze. "Shut up, Brayer Rabbit," he said and took me in his mouth. Mine fell open in an astonishing surge of terrified acceptance. John's seemed to know well what he was doing and I swayed back and forth on my feet, captivated by pleasure but in abject horror of my lust.

As the pressure built inside me, I began to whimper. My eyes found Trish again, on the bed, propped up on the pillows, touching herself. "John," I said. "That's enough." To my surprise, he stopped.

He rocked back on his heels into a squat. Glancing over at Trish, he said, "Do you see that pussy, Cole? It's tight, and it's hot, and it looks like it might be wet to me." I was already at the bed before he finished.

"It's wet for you Cole," Trish said with an inviting, carnivorous smile.

I slid up next to her, letting her feel her husband's saliva on her thigh. "Does this turn you on?" I asked, sliding my hand into the crook of her thigh.

"You know it, lover."

"Tell me how that feels," I asked.

Trish just smiled, her tongue touching her top teeth. I stared, but she would only slightly shake her head.

"I'll make you a deal. You tell me how it feels, but first I'll tell you how it tastes." I repositioned myself between her legs, spreading them wide. Sliding my tongue into her pussy, I pulled it out slowly, dragging it along her clit. Caught in the haze of sex, I worked on instint, unthinkingly responding to her movements and sounds, lost in time until I felt someone tugging at my legs. I knew what was coming, and was uncertain. By the time my knees were under me, it was too late. I was being impaled.

John's cock, lubricated somehow, slid easily into me, pushing past my sphinter into the depths of my ass. He wasn't fucking me though, not selfishly taking my shitter, but finding a rhythm that the three of us moved with, obscenely making love. I felt an extension of John's cock, into Trish, licking her as much for her pleasure as my own. As I relaxed quickly, nerves numbed by alcohol and soon a moan erupted from me. "Tell me how that feels, Trish," I said with one more probe of my tongue. She only giggled in the back of her throat.

"Tell him how it feels, love," John said.

"Oh, God, I don't even know where to start," she said, the corners of her mouth drawing up in a smile. "It feels like it should feel wrong, like I shouldn't be fucking my pussy on the whole my husband's skewered, like a man-boy who loves us less than we love each other loves us still." She dropped her hand into my hair. "Cole, you feel it. You're with us now."

I considered doing a Lou Gehrig impression but decided not to. Resigning myself to this, to being their toy, however well beloved, I dropped my face back into Trish's oil oozing hole. John, sensing my change mood, picked up his pace. When he began pulling me back into him, I gave up on Trish's pussy and stared into her eyes as he fucked me. She watched my face with a look of consternation, watched even as I broke eye contact with wide-eyed surprise when pleasure began to blossom in me and I started fucking back against John, grinding my ass into his pelvis, encouraging him with grunting whines.

"Fuck you, Cole. Fuck you," John grunted.

"Cum, baby. Cum," I answered.

"Dear God," Trish said.

And then it was over, the rhythm of John's probing cock slowed until still. Giving it one last hard squeeze with my ass for good measure, I looked up at Trish again.

I started to mount her, but she pushed me off and slid over me. Holding her hair about her head, she fit herself atop my dick and sighed in a high gasp as she enveloped me. "Now that," she breathed, rocking her hips forward and arching her shoulders back, "has to be one of the most erotic things." We fell into a slow rhythm together, neither one of us attempted to bring the other to a cum, just fucking in quiet loneliness, absorbed in the pleasure, in each other, oblivious. "Cole, baby?" she asked after I'm not sure how long.

"Yeah?" I whined.

"Tell me you have love in you."

"How?"

"Plead." She shifted her rhythm and I felt my excitement rise. "Beg," she gurgled.

"Now?"

She growled deep in her chest.

"Please, Trish? Please can I cum? I wanna shoot so badly. I wanna fucking cum in your cunt," I gasped as my head lolled back on the pillow, exposing my neck.

"Lovvver."

I grabbed Trish's waist and sat upright, shifting her back. My arms enveloped her. I tried to kiss her and she turned her head gently away so instead I clutched to her, one of my hands tugging on a nipple. "I love this, your body, the way you make me feel. I need you." She remained unresponsive, rocking her pelvis into mine. "I love you," I stammered. "I'm sorry, but it's true. I saw you in the bar and there was just something about you that I couldn't live without, something that I'd never had and something I needed to make me complete, to make my life complete. You. You. You." We found each other and kissed.

"Cum?" She asked.

"Please, yes. God, please."

"Good boy," she said in a sigh that grasped and held me.

"I wanna cum. I wanna cum." My body shook, as though wracked with tears. "Please, God, I wanna cum." I slid back on the bed, onto the pillow, tossing my head from side to side, mouth jabbering obscene pleas in an infantile voice until my body lurched upward and shook in a great spasm. I feel back into the quilt to see Trish climb off me with her hand held out, motioning me to stay, and her mouth open in mute astonishment.

I stripped my clothes off and lay in bed. Fiddling with my dick to make sure I could get hard, I waited to hear the lock click. When it did, I quickly turned out the lamp beside the bed. "Leave it dark?" I asked.

John and Trish stood in the door way long enough to get their bearings, the John turned on the bathroom light and pulled the door mostly closed. He sat in the armchair facing the bed, which Trish sat at the foot of. Realizing that they would quickly grow awkward and make some poor excuse to leave, I slid off the bed and crawled across the carpet to John's armchair.

He fiddled with his zipper and had his cock out just as I reached him. I took it in my mouth and he lounged back in the chair, letting me go to work. I was inexperience enough that I didn't really know what I was doing. I sucked and bobbed my head for a minute or two as he breathed heavily, turned on by the hot, hard flesh in my mouth. There's something about sucking a man's cock that I enjoy. It's a sense of self-gratification, the warmth that spread through my body, the pleasure I vicariously experienced through him, allowing him to objectify me as nothing more than a human mouth attached to a body while I felt very small and weak, nursing on a pole of fucking flesh that I imagined spurting cum into my mouth every minute that I sucked on it. Trish flipped on the light and I could see out of the corner of my eye that she had undressed herself. She sat back in the bed in rapt fascination.

"You have no idea what that does to me," she said. "Watching him, watching that beautiful face tug on your dick with his mouth."

I rose my head and stared at her, lost in the haze of sex. "Does it make your pussy wet, Trish? Does it make you want to touch yourself?"

Trish gestured for me to continue and I did with renewed fervor, trying to coax a stream of hot jizz out of John's fiery cock. Finally, mouth sore, I rose and saw Trish with her telephone, filming us. I bent over the dresser, not touching the wood but rather spreading my ass cheeks for the camera. My pubic hair was shaven as well as the hair around my shitter. "I need a good fucking so bad," I moaned. Stick your dick up my ass. Please, John," I said in a whine."

With only my spit and mucus for lube, John fit his cock at the entrance to my ass. I cried in pain out as he pushed into me. He was slow and gentle, but it still hurt horribly, even though I was drunk. A burning sensation that had me begging him to stop, only he didn't pull out. "It hurts. God, it hurts," I cried. "Please, please stop." John said nothing, just continued to slide into me, softly, gently sawing in and out as he sunk deeper. "Tell me when you're all the way in," I begged, wanting to know how much more of his big cock I'd have to take.

"That's all of it, lover," he said what seemed like an eternity later.

The pain lessened as I loosened up around him and as the cum leaking from his cock tip lubed my ass sheath some. His thrusting cock tugged at my anus and sphincter, stretching it outward, massaging the muscles and my prostate every time he withdrew, then when he pushed back in, it was the head of his cock that I felt, invading me, pushing deep in my bowled, spreading me open again and again. As the pace quickened, the sensations blurred and soon I was groaning and whining. I cried like a whore for him, as I'd seen in porn flicks, telling him how much my horny asshole loved his cock, how he could have my ass all night. Trish moved in on us and began caressing John's shoulders but quickly moved to me, to my cock. I screeched with pleasure and she twisted my limp head lightly with her fingers while her husband took me hard from behind. Finally, I felt his cock twitch and I knew he had cum. I staggered over to the bed while John returned to the armchair.

Trish joined me on the bed. "Roll over on your tummy, sweetie," she said and I obeyed, beleaguered but anxious for what might come next. She gently massaged my ass, her fingers playing at my gaping hole. I relaxed into it, letting it happen, not knowing it was my turn but not knowing what would happen next.

What happened next was her hand coming down in a hard whack. She smacked my ass repeatedly, as hard as she could. "You whore," she hissed. "You want to act like a whore now?"

I smiled, enjoying every minute of it, waiting for her to tire so I could find a way to cum. John watched us from the armchair. "You're a whore, Cole," he said and then, suddenly, a rush of humiliation flooded through me.

"No," I whined.

"A whore, a whore, a whore," Trish repeated as she spanked me.

I began shaking, unsure why, ablaze with humiliation and fear. A nervous, shaky sense of unreality stole over me and I began to pee, damping the quilt beneath me. Trish noticed and straddled my legs. Leaning forward, she bit into my shoulder and whispered barely audible words in my ear. She rose up my body and straddled my back, lowering her pussy into it. Sinking to fingers into it, she began to rub her wet cunt over my skin.

"I love that," she cooed. "I love that sooo much. You're going to fuck so good after this."

There was something so reassuring about the feel of her pussy, the sound of her voice, the smell of her. It lulled me into a warm sense of safety that I rose from very slowly, full of desire. Slowly but forcefully, I rolled over and pushed her off me, pressing her down into the bed. I fit the head of my dick against her entrance. "You're going to be mine," I growled and slid into her.

I fucked her as fast and hard as I could, possessing her with my brutal lust, so sure that I would never again be inside a woman that seemed not a woman but a living fantasy, an outlet for all lusts I had ever harbored, revenge upon women who had spurned me, acquiescence from women I had secretly harbored desire for, a conduit for experiencing angry need and the fulfillment of every desire within me. I couldn't hear her crying out though I knew she was. I gritted my teeth as I came and lost myself in convulsions of pleasure, brought to by her nipple pressed into my cheek. I had slid out of her, down her body, and now her breast was at my mouth. "Mommy," I said without thinking and clamped my lip down upon the hard nipple.

Fin

That's it. If you have any comments or insults or requests for other story branches, you can email me at [email protected]