Chapter 8

Something like 15 years after my re-awakening, I was on my way north, anticipating spending some time camping and generally being outdoors. I stopped in Eureka, as was my custom, for fast food, and gas. For my truck. In Burger Biggie, I saw a young woman who looked familiar. It struck me, finally, she was “my daughter”, Brenda. I approached her, as she sat in the corner of the restaurant, and asked how she was.

“Mister, do I know you from somewhere?”

“Isn’t your name Brenda? Don’t I look familiar?”

“Yeah, it is. How did you know my name? I’ve never seen you before now! How did you learn my name? You one of those stalkers, or some other kind of weirdo? I think I’m gonna call the cops!”

I mumbled something about “guess I was mistaken, you looked like the daughter of a friend of mine, sorry, I’ll go now...”, and sidled my embarrassed way out of there.

Once I, again, burned out working as an NP in ER, I, again, started working in an urgent care in a middling sized town somewhere in flyover country. Again, I had an MA, and, just as if A Higher Power seemed determined to keep me on one track, she was Melissa. Again, she and I settled into a friends-with-benefits arrangement.

I managed to divert my attention from my lost children, my lost “past”, by diving headlong into my job, and the distractions that Melissa was able, and appeared eager, to offer. We had our occasional weekends together, with our “grown up sleep overs”, and from time to time she would arrange a sitter, and I could squire her about, dinner and a show, dinner and a movie, just like grown ups or something.

Those outings without pediatric supervision allowed us to explore, well, “eccentricities”. She wondered what it might be like to fuck while she was bound. I, man-pig that I have always been, was certainly willing. So, one Friday night found her naked, hands tied to my headboard by means of cable ties threaded through the links on padded cuffs, and her sight denied her by a bandanna tied about her head.

I suppose she was anticipating classic boingo-boingo, with the added nuance of immobility and blindfold. Evil bastard that I am, I decided that this was an opportune time to conduct a taste test. I knelt between her knees, and settled in, nose to puss with my “victim”.

Melissa immediately comprehended my plan. She wrapped her legs around my shoulders, and attempted to drive my head into her sex, tongue first. As for me, well, I was attempting to polish her joy nubbin with my tongue. Her juices flowed, she panted out her arousal, and soon she deprived me of any auditory feedback at all, as her thighs squeezed my ears.

I could tell when she reached her peak, as her pelvis undulated, just like she was attempting to scrub my nose off onto her puss.

Once she relaxed from her climax, and allowed me to both breathe unencumbered, as well as hear again, I slow crawled my way up her form, and kissed her.

She was enthusiastic. “Oh, yes, Mark! That was some good nookie! Ghawd, I came my little head off! What do you have in mind for your helpless love slave, now that she is limp with orgasmic bliss?”

“I think that a round of boingo-boingo would suit me fine, right about now. Feeling you climax has left my johnston just about hard enough to carve my initials in steel armor, and I think a round of steam therapy is in order!”

She smiled prettily at me. “Well, evil master though you may be, I do believe I know of a ready source of steam. My little kitty is simply steaming, and the boiling juices pouring from her ought to be suitable to treat your condition!”

I slipped her blindfold off, and settled in between her spread knees. I slotted Mr. Happy at her pleasure portal, and slowly settled into her coital depths.

She cooed her approval of this maneuver, and I retreated, until only my glans was bathing in her heat, and then drove full length into her channel. She pulled at her restraints, but I accelerated my coitus, chasing my own release.