Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Cheating, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Size, Violent, .
Desc: Drama Sex Story: Chapter 1 - John Garson was a lady's man. When Ronnie propositioned him, he was happy to come along for the ride. It wasn't until after John met Ronnie's husband that he really FELL for her.
A hand pushed firmly against my chest, knocking me off-balance. My arms windmilled as I tried futilely to regain my footing. My cock sprang from her mouth and I heard her yell, "You bastard." As I fell backwards, the first line of my cum struck her forehead. Each subsequent surge flew into space, following the laws of Newtonian fluid dynamics.
Somewhere in the grey of his mind he heard a voice. He knew he'd been slugged; he could sense, half taste and half smell a metallic tang. He heard the voice again. It was a friendly sounding voice. "How're you feeling, John? That was a nasty bump you took." He was right, he had been hit.
He didn't feel strong enough to lift his head at first. It was still dark, but he had no idea how much later it was than the 7:00 p.m. he'd left the store. Though it felt like asphalt under his hands, he knew he wasn't in the parking lot. It dawned upon him that he was on a roof, a high one. He could feel the wind blowing freely, unrestrained by trees and buildings. He felt cold and realized he was nude. Now he lifted his head.
"Where'm I? Where're my clothes? What's going on?" The questions sprang from his lips in a stream.
He lifted himself further and focused his eyes as well as he could in the dim light. He saw three men before him. One, well dressed, was seated incongruously in an executive office chair. The other two, in jeans and polo shirts, stood away from the chair and a step and a half away from his unclothed body. They looked like they could break him in half with little effort.
"Relax, John" the suited one said. "Let me answer all your questions. It's bad to get so upset when you may have a head injury.
"You're on top of the office tower in the Palmer Industrial Park. Your clothes are in a dumpster four miles away. What's going on is that you haven't been living a very upright life. Fucking a married woman isn't very nice. In some places it's a capital crime."
John shivered, partly from the late May weather on his naked skin, partly from the forthright menace in the voice from the chair.
"I'm Carl," said the chair. "I'm Veronica's husband."
"Shit," John thought. His eyes widened and darted about. His breathing quickened and became deeper. Ronnie had been at his elbow as they left his store. Where was she?
Carl cocked his head and looked at John with a smile. "Remembered that you lost someone? Don't worry, she's right over there." Carl waved over his left shoulder. John's focus shifted toward the wave.
There was Ronnie, Veronica, kneeling on the rough roof, clad only in bra and thong. She looked terrified. Her hands were behind her back. Were they tied? Cuffed? What was happening?
Carl continued. "Veronica and I, we had an old fashioned wedding; church, white gown, traditional vows. You know the one, sickness, health - come on, join in, you know the words - richer, poorer, till death..."
He paused and left the phrase floating maliciously on the air. "I'm not especially sure what we're going to do about that last part."
"You," Carl stated as matter of factly as if he were saying that the paper had just been delivered, "will be going off the roof."
John instinctively tried to rise. The two polo shirts were on him in an instant, one shoving him back down, while the other backhanded him across the face. John felt his lip swell, and the skin of his thigh scrape on the roof. Never the muscular type, John hadn't been in a fight since junior high and had lost that one. He was helpless.
"Please, don't leave," Carl said. "You'll miss all the fun. As I was saying, you're going off the roof. However, you have a choice."
John stared blankly at Carl, "What choice?" he croaked.
"Whether you die, or whether you die happy. We haven't discussed Veronica's part in tonight's events yet."
John's gaze moved back toward Ronnie.
"Your death is assured. Hers, however, is not."
Carl smiled. "Let me explain what's going to happen tonight. You will join my lovely wife at the edge of the building. She will demonstrate for you one last time how well she uses her lips and tongue. If you refuse, you both kiss concrete. If you come too soon, she goes over the edge, we break some of your ribs, we crush your nuts, and then you go over. If you take too long, we hold you in place until Veronica asphyxiates ... and then you both go over. I imagine she'd bite down pretty hard as she runs out of air. But, if you both do it right, Veronica comes home to her lovely house and family, and you won't feel a thing.
"John, do you speak any French?"
John shook his head.
"The French have a phrase for orgasm. They call it le petit mort, the little death. We're going to combine that with le grand mort. What a way to go, eh? When you come, you go."
Thing One and Thing Two thought this a hilarious pun. John just stared, horrified.
"Consider your choices before you answer, John."