Chapter 53

“I didn’t wear any panties,” Rachel finally admitted as she broke the quiet tension between us.

“Why not?” I asked. I was happy we were talking. I really didn’t care, and I wasn’t playing the stern authoritarian.

“I knew you would tell me to take them off, and I wanted to tell you no,” Rachel’s response surprised me. It was candid, and I think it was the truth. She had thought about doing what I told her.

“Yet, you wore the bra,” I reminded her.

“I don’t mind taking that off,” she said quite seriously as if it was nothing to her.

“Then do it,” I said. I was nervous. I was taking a big chance giving her an order. I still don’t understand women and I am an old man now. At that time, I might as well have been picking up a six-sided dice and giving it a big roll on the table and trying to predict the result as I would have to guess how a woman might react to something I said or did.

I suppose as I’ve grown older, I am not sure I understand their logic any better or improved my odds of guessing what they were hoping I’d say. All I know is that she turned around and let me unzip the back of her dress so that she could pull her arms out of the strap.

“Do you ask ALL of your babysitters to show you their boobies?” she quipped as she lowered the dress.

“You are my only babysitter,” I said. Her body language suggested she expected me to unsnap her bra. Lingerie had been a bit of a mystery to me. I had been practicing on the snaps of the bras that my mom owned when nobody was home.

I removed the bra and smiled as Rachel turned around and gave me a magnificent view of her perky tits. They weren’t huge but they were pert and stood out straight on her chest without any sort of surgical enhancement.

I would learn how rare that is as women age and wish I had seen more teenage boobies when I got older. At the time, I took them for granted but I still admired those honkers. Rachel’s body language seemed to suggest she was going to sit the rest of the night on the couch with her dress pulled down to her waist and expose her boobs to me – but nothing else.

“Take it off,” I insisted firmly.

“No,” she replied firmly, but before I could say another word, she stood up and started taking it off. She started giving me conditions. “You can’t tell anybody about this and if anyone knocks, I am getting dressed before I answer the door.”

“First rule of fuck club is don’t talk about fuck club,” I inadvertently made up the rules to fight club years before that movie was ever released. You might think I am bullshitting but that is exactly how I remember saying it back then.

“This is not a fuck club, and I am not your slave,” she insisted as she shimmied out of the dress and dropped her bare ass back on my mother’s expensive couch.

“What is it then?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted truthfully. We didn’t know what it was.

“Second rule of fuck club is you don’t sit on furniture,” I said as I insisted that she stand up. I grabbed a wooden chair from the kitchen and brought it over to where we were in the living room.

“That’s still furniture, Brian,” Rachel put her hands on her hips stubbornly as she often did when she wanted to protest something I had just told her to do.

“Not like this,” I remembered a joke that Lori must have told me about giving four women a place to sit by turning a chair upside down. The chairs legs were thin and phallic, but they weren’t really designed to go inside of a woman’s body. I flipped the chair over with the legs sticking up and to the side.

Rachel regarded me as if I were going too far, and she forced air past her lips as if she couldn’t believe she was going through with this.

“Sit on it with my Asshole or cunt?”

“How do you address me when you have a question, dumb-fuck?”

“Sit on my Asshole or cunt, Sir?” Rachel’s tone was the same, but this time her pussy lips began to drop a little out of her body, and her nipple started to get hard.

“Your choice, dumb fuck,” I said.

Rachel puzzled over how to set the chair completely upside down so that she could lower her body onto one of the chair legs. She seemed reluctant – a little afraid. “Can you just tell me, Sir?”

“Fine, asshole. Always assume that you are to shove something in your asshole unless I explicitly tell you to use your mouth or cunt,” I said. I took the chair and leaned it up against a table so that the it did not wobble while it was balanced upside down.

“Can I lube myself up, first Sir?” Rachel was a little less sullen and a little more contrite when she asked permission this time.

“Did you bring lube?”

“Yes, in my bag, Sir,” she said. That was encouraging. I felt that Rachel must have known I’d try to do this and she’d already decided how she was going to handle it. However, she tried to play it off like she brings these things everywhere. If it was anybody else beside a member of the Wagner family I would have doubted it.

I unzipped a small bag she had brought with her. It had the normal overnight things that girls bring to sleepovers like blow dryers, makeup and a change of clothes. There was also some rope, duct tape, and handcuffs.

“You knew this would happen?” I asked as I showed the things in the bag to her.

“A girl scout is always prepared,” she smirked.

I found some lotion and a book. It was a novel by A.N. Roquelaure. I told Rachel to bend over and she spread her ass cheeks so that I could slide the lotion in between her darkened crack.

“This is the book by Anne Rice?” I asked.

“Who?”

“A.N. Roquelaure? Isn’t that also Anne Rice?”

“I don’t know. Mom said I should read it. I thought I might get some reading done if we didn’t end up using the handcuffs and rope.”

The book was called “The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty” and it seemed fairly non-descript with no art on the cover. My only understanding of Sleeping Beauty was that she was a Disney character.

“You like Disney?” I asked as I slid the lotion in her crack and began to finger her asshole with it. I didn’t know what the book was but if Judith was reading it – I assumed that it was probably something nerdy and innocent.

“That’s not a Disney book,” she chortled.

“What is it?”

“Do you want to talk about books, or do you want to fuck the shit out of me, Sir?”

I tossed the book over my shoulder, unzipped my pants and started fucking her right there in my parent’s living room.

That night we fucked in the kitchen, living room, my room, even my parent’s room. It was naughty and I didn’t fuck her on the bed. Rachel had also brought her box of sharp rocks and razors and I cut her and tormented her.

I ran her a bath and then I bathed her delicately. At one point, I grabbed her and pulled her back into the water. She could have fought me, but she didn’t. I held her under the water and he struggled a little.

It may sound a little bit psycho, but I enjoyed watching her thrash around in the nude. There was something so raw and visceral about wet tits in soapy water, while a girl struggles for air.

Especially, when she doesn’t fight back and lets you keep drowning her over and over. I didn’t feel like the villain.

I fed her my cum by stuffing my dick down her throat until a little snotty-puke ran down her chin. After she recovered, she asked me why I stopped.

“You were choking?”

Rachel didn’t complain or critique that much. I got the impression I could be extra rude and mean to her. I often farted in her face and called her dumb-fuck and cunt or piss-face. I would never have thought a girl would let me do that. Rachel didn’t “like it” and she told me frequently that she would rather I not – but she never stopped me or resisted, and she easily could have.

I insisted she sleep in my bed, bound up. “Okay, but in the morning will you try to sneak up on me and be rough?” she asked.

“I wasn’t rough tonight?”

She didn’t answer. I snuggled with her despite leaving her tightly bound. Rachel was impressed with the knots I had tied. I laughed that a boy scout is also always prepared and used some rope from the garage to help me bind her.

I was craving a connection, and affection that came with intimacy. I kissed her and she kissed me back, but it never felt like she actually LIKED me. I didn’t have any experience with other girls, so I didn’t know if it was supposed to feel like this or not with a girl.

I assumed Rachel wasn’t interested in me as a boyfriend and didn’t feel any real attraction to me, or perhaps she was simply incapable of showing warmth and affection. It may have also been that the things we’re doing was HOW she shared intimacy.

It was intimate after all. I had full access to her asshole, and I bore it out that night. I fucked her so hard that I must have burst a bubble inside her bowels and poopy began to slide out of the side of her ass. She didn’t say anything, so I assumed she was okay with it, and I cleaned her up because she was tied up.

That morning I got up early with the intent of pouncing on her. She was already up and she had removed her bindings. I went into my kitchen in the nude. I was taking a huge chance – what if my parents had come home early?

There she was sitting on an upside-down kitchen table. She drove one of the legs up her asshole and turned it upside down. She had to use her feet to stabilize herself so she was basically sitting down on top of it but squatting at the same time. Rachel was eating some Honeycomb cereal.

“Good morning, Sir,” Rachel smiled luxuriously as if she were waiting for me and relaxed. She called me Sir about one in every three responses and that had seemed to be good enough for me. It felt like we were playing house and she was pretending to be my dutiful house-wife.

“Cunts don’t eat cereal without permission,” I informed her sternly.

“Sorry Sir,” she stopped eating and dropped the spoon. I liked it when Rachel took me very seriously. She had a dead pan look on her face like she would accept any rule I could think of.

I instructed my babysitter to slide herself off the chair. It was like watching a sword be removed from a sheathe as she slid off the chair leg. I made her get on the floor and then I used one of my mom’s funnels to pour the milk into her gaping asshole.

She was quietly allowing me to do this when I heard my parents arrive. “Oh shit, oh shit,” we both began to panic.

“I have to get dressed, Brian!” Rachel called me by my first name. It was the first time she had done so since she arrived.

I decided there was really not enough time for her to drain the milk out of her ass so I made an executive decision. I plugged her asshole with one of the small butt plug toys she had brought over. Rachel seemed mortified but she didn’t argue.

“That’s for calling me Brian!” I slapped her ass hard and we both rushed to get dressed. Our hair was fucked up and we clearly looked like a total mess when my parents walked in.

“I think I know what went on here,” My mother put it together immediately. I was holding my breath until that moment and about to come clean.

“You caught us, I let Brian sleep in and I didn’t make him breakfast,” Rachel lied smoothly.

“Brian is a real bugaboo to wake up, so I am not mad. if you were NOT here, I am sure he’d still be snoring away in his pajamas. Brian, you are obviously NOT ready to stay home alone,” she said.