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From: pdmm@interlog.com (P. D. Michael)
Subject: RP   Call It Even some Day
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Call It Even Someday
by P. D. Michael


   It had been one of the most embarrassing things that had ever happened
to me. Now, standing on the fringe of a group of my brother's pretentious
friends and hearing my sister-in-law repeat the story for their amusement,
it was even more so. Cheryl loved to do those little things that put me
down in front of others. It was as if she had to point out for them that
she had made the right choice in dumping me and taking up with my brother.
He's the big shot entrepreneur. I'm just the klutz ... the fuck up. She,
of course, is the one who almost picked the wrong brother, but didn't. The
next thing she'd be telling their friends that my cock is shorter too, I
thought. Five minutes later, when I'd returned from getting myself a beer,
her little circle of groupies laughed out loud and looked my way just as I
heard her say, ..'it's true. I swear. What can I say? Their mother called
the wrong one Dick.' A real stand-up comic. 
   I was getting tired of being the brunt of her sarcasm. We'd had words
about it before but she got really nasty. She as much as told me if I
didn't like it I could take a hike. That my brother had just given me a
job because he felt sorry for me, and that that could end real fast if she
gave him the word. The sting of being embarrassed still lingered in my gut
when I saw Cheryl a few days later. I was twenty miles from home in a
neighboring town picking up a tendering package from their municipal
offices. There she was, scooting along the main street like she was going
to a fire. I knew I didn't want to face her so I just hung back to see
where she was going. I followed her into an out-of the-way bar and watched
from a distance while she slipped into a booth next to a guy I'd never
seen before. It sure as hell wasn't my brother! They were obviously more
than just friends. His tongue was half way down her throat on the first
kiss and his hand ran up her leg and squeezed her ass cheeks like he'd
been there before. Cheryl nestled back in his arms rubbing herself against
him like a horny cat. They ordered a drink but didn't even stay to finish
it. Fifteen minutes later they were tucked in at a local motel making
noises that I could hear right through the door. It was almost four
o'clock when she returned to her car. She didn't see me at first and it
startled her when my old Mustang slid into the spot beside her deep blue
Mercedes. 
   'What are you doing here?' she snapped. 'Aren't you supposed to be
working?'  'Just picking up the tapes from your motel room,' I smiled,
indicating the generic brown envelope on the seat beside me. It was the
tendering documents, but she didn't know that. Her face had gone blank and
she leaned back against the car like the world was about to end. Several
times she opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. There was
anguish in her eyes as they searched my face for some escape, some shred
of hope that would release her from her predicament. 
   'I wasn't ...' she began and then stopped. 
   'Yes you were Cheryl,' I smiled confidently and patted the package
beside me. 'And it's all on tape.' 
   Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and her face contorted in
wretchedness. 'I was just ... breaking it off...' she bleated, her voice
trailing as she realized the pointlessness of her excuse. 
   A long silence ensued while she pressed her forehead to her clenched
fist and wept. They were real tears and it was true remorse that she felt.
She turned her pleading eyes on me looking for some sympathy, but I just
arched my eyebrows, smiled and patted the brown paper envelope. I really
wanted to tell her my compassion was as short as my dick but I didn't want
humor to diminish her suffering.
   Arrangements were made for her to follow me on the short trip back. She
wanted to talk, negotiate right there in the parking lot, but I didn't.
Desperate and frustrated at having no indication of what I was going to
do, she begged me not to tell my brother. In her desolation she blurted
out 'I'll do anything. To which I replied, 'Yes you will.' 
   To further underscore her situation, I made her take off her panties
beside the car and give them to me. The next day I didn't phone her at
all. Several times she tried to call through to me but I wouldn't answer.
When I got home from work she was parked outside my apartment, waiting.
She looked as if she hadn't slept and the puffiness around her eyes was
definitely from crying. 
   Her first approach was the old Cheryl. Confidant, arrogant, and
demanding, she told me that she'd brought two thousand dollars cash and
that I was to turn over the tape to her and never speak of it again. She
strode into my apartment like she owned it, and me, and laid it on the
line. 
   'Give me the tape, keep your mouth shut and you won't have a problem.
If you ever again raise the subject again, no one will believe you and
your brother will side with me.' She stood there then, hands on her hips,
looking down her nose at me like I was some vile child who had offended
her. 
   'Take off your clothes,' I replied matter-of-factly. 
   'There's no way in hell,' she blustered, but her self-assurance didn't
ring true. She looked uncomfortable for a moment, her eyes darting here
and there to avoid contact with mine. Finally, she sighed deeply, looking
down at her hands and playing with her fingers.   'Look, ...er, if two
thousand isn't enough, I'll get more... It, ah, ...just takes time.' 
   'Take off your clothes,' I repeated.
   'All right!' she snapped. 'But you'll only fuck me once and then the
deal is over. You'll give me the tape,' she declared emphatically. 
   Angrily, her hands began to unfasten her clothes. 
   'Do it slowly,' I instructed putting a CD into the machine. 'I want you
to strip for me like an expensive whore. 
   Not at all happy with the scene, she nonetheless began a slow,
self-conscious dance. Her blouse went first and her hands trembled as they
contended with the small buttons. I couldn't believe that she actually
blushed when she faced me in her brassiere. Still moving too quickly, she
reached behind to unfasten her skirt and I stopped her. 
   'Take your time. Show off your tits a bit. Shake them for me and let me
see you feel them up. Then lift your skirt and give me a little preview of
what's under there. Remember, you're not just a piece of meat. You're a
piece of prime cunt.' 
   A few minutes later her bra and skirt had joined her blouse on the
floor. She wore no stockings and her tanned legs looked great sticking out
of the openings in her white panties. Her tits swayed tantalizingly as she
moved to the music and the nipples stood out like acorns. There were no
more pauses where I had to tell her what to do next. She rolled her
panties down to the fringe of her pubic hair and rocked her hips
provocatively like any slut would do. The black pelt of tangled curls that
I had loved so much peaked above the elastic waistband capturing my eyes
and mesmerizing my dick. From the look on her face, Cheryl thought she was
back in control now. Her hand disappeared into her pants and she humped
against it, smiling knowingly at the bulge in the front of my trousers.
Not eighteen inches from my face she slipped her panties down onto her
thighs and writhed her naked pussy at me. The scent that I'd all but
forgotten filled the air and I grinned to myself to know that she was wet.
Using both hands she smoothed back the hair and framed her cunt lips. She
edged forward with her undulating hips lifted toward my face. 
   'Is this what little Dickie wants?' she hissed smugly.
   I reached out to her flaunted treasure and gripped a large patch of her
pubic hair between my thumb and forefinger. She winced as I twisted and
tugged hard on it forcing her up onto her toes. 
   'You're not in any position to give me attitude,' I reminded her. 'A
word from me and my brother won't want you around anymore. One look at the
tapes and he'll throw you out on your ass.' 
   The smugness had gone out of her when I relinquished my grip. My hands
pressing down on her shoulders signaled her to her knees. Tentatively her
fingers ran up my thigh until they circled my cock. Her hand unfastened my
belt and tugged my hardon into view. She'd sucked it before, when we were
going together, but she'd never let me come. I slid my own pants down and
stepped out of them. With her head against my thigh, I rubbed my prick all
over her face, taking extra time around her nose and lips. She didn't balk
when I told her to lick my balls and I watched with amusement as her
pointed, pink tongue bathed each testicle. 
   Cheryl gagged as I pushed to the back of her throat. It seemed ironic
to me to think that she'd ridiculed me for having a small cock and now she
was choking on it. With every stroke I wanted to hear her gag. As I got
close I wound my fingers tightly into her hair. I hoped she still disliked
come in her mouth because I was about to fill her up. The first spurt hit
the back of her throat and she panicked. My grip on her hair held her head
in place while the next jet all but filled her mouth forcing her to
swallow. The knob of my cock was just inside her lips and my come flooded
over her tongue once again. It was all I could do to stand the intensity.
I pushed back in deep and held on tight until my orgasm subsided. I could
feel her throat contract each time she swallowed. As I relaxed she started
to move away until I told her to stay and clean it all up. Her head
dutifully bobbed over my softening cock as she licked and sucked the
remnants of my spend. For several minutes I watched the top of her head
moving against me and felt the softness of her tongue on my sated prick.
Then she sat back on her heels and looked forlornly at my face. 
   'You aren't going to give me the tapes are you?' she asked. 
   'Not until I'm ready,' I confessed.
   'When will that be?'
   'When you're no longer of any sexual interest to me.' 
   'Will you at least keep my secret?' she implored. 
   'From my brother? Yes. From my friends? No.' 
   The idea clearly distressed her. For a moment she sat twisting her
hands in her lap.   'You wouldn't let them...' she began and then stopped.

   'Of course,' I snickered. 'That's what friends are for.' 

                                    30

P. D. Michael stories are mailed out without charge to readers who have
requested inclusion in the author's private mailings.

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