GIRL 59
DEAD RAT GIRL
It was the day after Valentines Day and my cock was throbbing in pain.
I didn't have a real date for the occasion. Girl 51, Corvette Girl was still my timeshare girlfriend, but I had thought she would be going out for the evening with Land Rover Boy. As it turns out, she would be sitting home herself. I thought, what the hell, we might as well go out.
We got into a nice Italian place, cozy, maybe too cozy, because the other tables could hear us talking. We were still lusty friends, and were having the occasional bouts of sex, each of which evenly distributed cock time in pussy, mouth and ass. You miss one of those with Corvette Girl and she would be pissed. I could never tell exactly which hole gave her the strongest orgasms, but I'm assuming it was her ass, as she'd pull the sheet off the mattress and scream as if she were being murdered. Yeah. Definitely asshole orgasms.
Anyway, so there we were at the Italian place, and we got bored, so we played the "tell me your fantasy game," except we did our own version, where I started it off and she'd have to carry on. Naturally I had her in an orgy room surrounded by naked people, I threw her onto the big dining table and started fucking her, and a guy with a huge cock approached. Oh my God, I handed the fantasy narrative off to her there, and when she gave it back to me she'd gone through four more cocks in all three holes and was covered with hot, sticky cum.
The two tables nearest us, well, they were young, in their twenties, and later Corvette Girl and I laughed that we'd created children through those two couples that night. We also made the waiter very happy. I don't think I've had a waiter be that attentive in years. It helps if, when he comes to see if we need more bread, beautiful dirty blonde-haired Corvette Girl is saying, "so then the guy's cock convulses so hard in my ass that the cum spills out onto the table and the sight of it makes the guy I'm jerking off in my right hand spurt cum all over my face, and I'm just lapping it up." Then she'd look up at the waiter like, hey big boy, did you like that? Brazen slutty Corvette Girl.
So when we got back to her place, I was so horny my cock was just ripping out of my pants, but she put me off. Double trouble - she was on her period and was wearing a tampon, and she wanted to go into the kitchen and havea cigarette. So I let her, then had an idea. There in the kitchen, I bent her over the kitchen table, pulled down her thong and just rammed my cock up her asshole. She screamed bloody murder, and at first I thought she was furious at my raping her ass all of a sudden and that she was signaling I was hurting her.
I stopped and said, "are you okay?"
She shouted, "don't stop, you moron, keep fucking me! Fuck me deeper in my asshole! Oh, my GOD!"
So I did. I fucked her until she came about three times, then carried her into the bedroom, went to wash the asshole off my cock, and when I got to the bedroom she was waiting for me. I lay down and she got on her knees between my legs and sucked every drop of cum out of my cock, but refused to let me go and just kept sucking me.
That Corvette Girl!
It seemed like all that fucking would give me good luck. It would shield me from the usual awful Match women and bring me to true love.
So there I was, the next day, hitting on a blonde woman in my neighborhood.
For some reason, on Match dating, it always seems like everyone who likes you is an hour away, if not two. So I decided that I would only flirt with local girls. The thin blonde in my town was only shown in a photo taken a mile away, and she wore a baseball cap. I figured that she was hiding, maybe she wasn't confident about her looks. Or was married, as the baseball hat girls are likely to be.
Her screen name was Best_There_Is_Girl. I thought that was pushing it, but perhaps she had earned the name somehow.
We traded exactly one email and no phone calls. I told her I would be at the corner pub that very night at 8 and to meet me there, and she agreed.
I felt her before I saw her, and it was not a good thing. A shadow seemed to pass across the bar, then across my soul. Something dark and disturbing, I thought, hoping it wasn't coming for me.
When I looked up, a coldly beautiful tall blonde stood there in a fitted pinstripe suit. She reached out to shake my hand - no thought at all of kissing her, it would be like kissing a corpse, I thought - and her hand was icy. I shivered as I looked at her, realizing that coal black eyes don't go well with yellow-blonde hair.
I asked her about her work. She began to talk instead about the jerk of an ex-husband, or rather separated ex, she had, and how she wished he would die in a traffic accident. The first time she smiled, she was imagining a tanker truck hitting him head on at eighty-five miles per on the turnpike.
I tried to steer the conversation to safer topics, and tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, going through a divorce can make anyone homicidal.
But the next thing she wanted to talk about was dead rats. She said they somehow got washed into her basement, some got trapped behind the dishwasher in the kitchen and roasted from the heat, and the smell filled the downstairs. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke of the other dead rats and where she found their carcasses in the basement.
I didn't realize it till later, but what seemed interesting is that the rats came to her house to die.
The darkness in this woman's aura seemed to grow denser and darker, and tendrils of it seemed to reach out for me, as if the stench of a dead body could be seen approaching my nose.
I hastily excused myself for the men's room and leaned against the shut door, feeling a momentary safety.
Jesus Christ, I thought, help me.
I splashed warm water of my face and looked in the mirror, and tried to put on my tough guy face.
I walked back to the bar and ordered another beer. She leaned forward, darkly hungry.
So, she said, what do you think we should do the rest of the night?
I looked at her with that tough expression, but said nothing.
Something wrong? She seemed menacing. Her eyes seemed even blacker.
Best-There-Is-Girl, I said, listen, I'm not for you and you're not for me. I'm leaving the bar now. Have a nice evening.
I put two twenties on the bar and walked deliberately to the door.
My hands shook as I drove home, and when I got in, I double locked the front door and crawled under the covers. I made a call and waited. Thirty minutes later the door buzzed.
It was Corvette Girl, with an overnight bag on her shoulder.
What's the matter? She asked. What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost.
I looked left and right of the doorway and pulled her in, then double locked the door, and I didn't say a word until she was under the covers with me.
I told her the story. She nodded in understanding.
Evil people do exist, she said. I know a few.
But this was frightening, Corvette Girl. This woman looked like she could start a fire with her eyes.
Come here, baby, Corvette Girl said. Let Mommy suck your cock and you'll feel much better.
And I did. I sank into sleep, fucked Corvette Girl before she had to get into the shower, and drove in to the construction site at the refinery.
For once it felt good to be in the crisp cold outdoors in the sunlight. This world with its cranes and technicians and engineers and scientific accuracy seemed as far away from witches and warlocks and ghosts and goblins as anyplace.
That night, I arranged a date for the next evening, at the same corner pub. Once you fall off the horse, get right back on it, I thought.
As it turned out, it was a dumb idea.
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