Chapter 5

After cleaning the motel suite and recovering the camera from the pool deck, I dashed home. That’s when my night actually began. But God, the whole time I worked in my darkened bedroom, I kept tensing. It was as if Mrs. Goodman’s constricted mouth still raced on my tip.

As I played the video of her tiny pale frame kneeling in the shadows before my towering dark bulk, I squirmed in the desk chair. Then it appeared. With my pulse hammering, I replayed the frames until I found the clearest view.

“Really?” I whispered while squinting at a single frozen image.

Though narrow, an obvious vertical stripe bisected her bottoms. Darker, pasted to her seam, it glittered.

And then, while piecing together the final draft video, I gulped. As in a hurting-my-throat kinda swallow. Over and over, I played another section. At the rapid pulsing of her taut neck muscles, my heartbeat thundered.

Okay, so what? Yeah, I’d gotten it earlier; she was into neatness. Except that enthusiasm for cleanliness was one thing. Although I’d thought nothing of it out on the concrete deck, it only really struck me right then.

“Fuck me,” I mumbled. “She’s swallowing.”

In my plan, I figured she’d spit it out or have me shoot off beside her. Instead, she’d swallowed my jizz. Or did her best. Heck, I’d even stashed cleaner in the bathroom to scrub the deck.

“Damn,” I whispered, rewatching the furious gulping.

So, there’d been more going on with her than a desire to not leave a mess. That led to the next shock that had my heart battering my ribs. She could’ve wiped herself with the dress afterwards. But she hadn’t.

At first, a chuckle escaped me, but soon I rewound the video once more. With the dress’s material dampening as it stuck to the rounded curves of her chest, she’d turned away. Though still reddened, her face was shiny. And, yes, her no-longer-shaking fingers continued to glisten.

But after perusing the images again and again, I scratched my head. No time to waste on errant theorizing. Stick to the plan. After dubbing our conversation’s incredible final lines, I’d clambered into bed. Hard as a rock, my entire pole throbbed. But a last glance at the thumb drive beside the keyboard had me smiling as I closed my eyes.

Although she had no clue, a bear-trap had snapped around Mrs. Goodman’s pretty leg. The most delightful images flooded me as I drifted to sleep. Naked, she was shaking in the woods with steel teeth embedded in her bleeding ankle. In the moonlight, those amazing, firm tits jiggled. Between strident pleas, she wept. Trails of snot and tears glittered on her glossy, red-tinged face.

But of course, there was nothing she could do. Nor was there anywhere to run, even should she get free. Yes, she remained a distraction. No, it wouldn’t help me leave that fucking hole-in-the-wall town. But I’d still planned for everything. As I ran a hand into the shorts to caress my stiff shaft, a ravenous growl built deep within me.

“Oh, I want you so bad, Mrs. Goodman,” I murmured. “You’re mine now. All of you.”

Wow! The dreams that followed. All the things I would do to her. No surprise, sometime that night I’d crept into the bathroom to jack-off. Amongst my quiet grunting, low laughs escaped as my flexing cock flooded the commode with swirling pearlescence.

“This is the last time,” I whispered. “Alone.”

In the morning, I entered the town library right as the librarian unlatched its glass doors. Seated at a public computer, I re-downloaded the data-scrubbed file to a generic USB drive. A thorough sweep of an alcohol swab left its plastic case shiny and fingerprint-free as I nudged the slender rectangle into a wrinkled manila envelope.

Once back in my pickup’s lofty cab, I exhaled while scanning the empty parking lot. With another deep breath, I added Mrs. Goodman’s bikini top before sealing the envelope. Keepsakes weren’t worth the risk just yet.

Sunday was a long day. While in church beside my mother, I kept glancing at the phone. Only a nervous habit, because, of course, Mrs. Goodman wouldn’t call. In her mind, we’d concluded our business. Except, with the envelope secured in my backpack for school the next day, I knew the truth.

As Pastor Wembley prattled on, visions of her perfect tits tumbled through my brain. Both in the video and out under the stars, the way they wobbled as she danced. The little jiggle of each one as she’d scooped my cum and her spit from them. Their dark areolas and even darker thick stems really set them off against the surrounding pale untanned skin. Oh, and the enticing way her dress had clung to them, darkening as she turned from me, nipples still sharp. With a slow exhale, I shifted to ease my surging hard-on.

“Shh, Damon.” Momma nudged my elbow.

At her glare, I almost laughed. She thought boredom plagued me. Not even close; my mind whirled. Laser-focused, I reviewed the next steps in my grand scheme.

“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered.

After giving her the only response she ever wanted to hear, I sat back with a grin. Despite staring towards the pastor, I let my brain continue to plot. Soon enough, the nighttime dream again oozed into me. Mrs. Goodman’s cries. Her weeping. The ankle trapped in that immense steel trap.

Although I continued checking my phone, it remained silent. To be honest, what did I expect from her? We’d completed our transaction, so there was no reason for her to call. Except there were those nagging hints of more at play. Sharp nipples. Rapid, almost hungry, swallowing. The softness of her fingers as she’d pushed the last of the jizz from my glossy cockhead onto her waiting tongue. Plus, there was the way she’d continued dancing despite her protests.

Then again, maybe I was reading more into everything. Back then, what did I know? The only thing I knew for sure was that nothing further would happen until Monday morning.

The old idiom, quiet before the storm? Well, Sunday embodied that type of pregnant silence. It was four million hours long.

That night, after reviewing my checklist for the billionth time, I collapsed onto my pillow with a sigh. In the morning, if there’d been dreams, I had no memory. After shutting off the alarm with a brutal smack, I rose from the creaking bed. Earlier than usual, it was still dark, and I kept quiet while readying. But a glance at the envelope in my backpack put a grin on my face. With a quick breakfast filling my belly, I dashed to the truck. Every mile closer to school stiffened my hard-on.