Spunky Blackmail Ch. 03

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Double Penetration

Tara was going down on me. I admit that in the bedroom we were fairly vanilla – content between the sheets but never wild, never overwhelmed with passion – but my girlfriend did give good head.

I’ve thought about it a lot (obviously, I’m that kind of guy) and I’ve never been sure if it’s because it’s the one thing she’s really comfortable doing, or if it’s merely in comparison to our lovemaking that the blowjobs seem so extraordinary. Also, I won’t deny that my sweet Tara, on her knees or on all fours, with my dick in her mouth, turns me on for more than just the physical reason.

My girl is a good girl. Tara may not have always been a good girl – I’m never sure how much of her dating history is true (she always wants me to feel good about us, and in that quest has tried to gloss over sordid details) – but when she’s going down on me, she’s a serious professional, and there’s nothing squeaky clean about that. When she sucked me off, it was heavenly. And she couldn’t get around the act itself, which involved licking up my cum, inserting my cock between her lips, and bobbing her smooth cheeks down on it until I finally blew my load. She never swallowed – but she didn’t mind my cum in her mouth, so long as I told her when it was on its way.

There was also the added titillation this evening that she was blowing me in her grandmother’s house. For the funeral, her grandfather had invited everybody, and somehow everyone got their own rooms, Tara and I included. It was a surprise to me, but then again Tara and I were both adults, with jobs and responsibilities. Speaking of jobs…

I was sitting up in the bed. My underwear was hanging over the side of the mattress, and I glanced at it when Tara’s brown hair dutifully lowered over my tight member. She was beautiful to me in that moment: in her smallest bra, her plain pajamas on, her hair in a loose ponytail. It was the casualness of the act. She had been getting ready for bed, had taken her shirt off, and begun to comb her hair in the mirror, when she turned to me. Quietly, she’d approached me when I’d just gotten my shoes off, and helped me remove the rest of my clothes. Then she pulled the sheets back and had me sit down. I did, naked. She crawled up on the bed beside me and kissed me, then kissed my chest, then kissed my cock until it grew hard. And then she started sucking.

She did it quietly, for the most part. The house was full, though mostly quiet now that everyone had gone to bed, and we didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves. I had to wonder why she was going down on me now, on the day of her grandmother’s funeral, but I wouldn’t question it, not in the middle of the act. She reached down and played with my balls a little. I guessed it was the stress of the day, one of the ways to sublimate her grief; she and her grandmother had been very close, much closer than Courtney or most of the family had been. That’s why I wasn’t surprised when she asked me to come to the funeral. She’d needed me to drive. She hadn’t cried at the service but she held on to me. And I (Tara stopped going down briefly to swirl the saliva in her mouth around my cockhead) had been trying to keep my eyes off her sister.

I don’t want to be a bad guy, but I’m afraid it may be too late. This morning, when we were all getting ready, the guys putting on our suits, the girls doing their makeup and donning black, conservative dresses, Tara and I were in the bathroom, the door open, me doing my tie and she fixing her hair. While wrapping the knot in the mirror I noticed the straight razor in the medicine cabinet. I pointed it out to Tara.

“It’s grandpa’s,” she said. The old man used a straight razor. That was both old school and very cool. I’d brought my own disposable one and I felt like I had half the class. Then Courtney showed up to prove that estimate was a gross exaggeration.

Whereas every woman in my girlfriend’s family wore a dress that went at least below her knees, Courtney wore something that ended somewhere far above them. Nobody said anything, so maybe it was just especially egregious to me, but in the heels and that skirt Courtney’s brown legs went on forever. And they were strong legs, make no mistake. The girl did her pilates. She had a tight black sport coat that covered her shoulders, but her blouse (and the poor thing really tried) did not hide the swells of Courtney’s knockout tits. Her cleavage was bold, thick, and deep. And for a moment, that morning, my eyes glued to them, I imagined sinking my cock between those luscious breasts and squeezing them together until I came all over Courtney’s chin. Would you believe me if I said in that moment I forgot that I had already? I imagined pulling that shirt down and fucking her chest just to relieve the maddening pressure in my balls. Of course I didn’t. That would have been rude.

The blouse she wore was not a tube top, but it failed to completely cover her tanned stomach, which kept peeking from between the skirt and under the sport coat whenever canl─▒ bahis she turned. For some reason, the mere glimpse of her tight bellybutton gave me the stirrings of an erection. I turned back to the mirror when she entered the bathroom to talk to Tara. She ignored me. I ignored her.

Now, every time Tara’s lips slide down my shaft I think of sinking this dick into Courtney’s tight, reluctant anus. I think of watching Courtney in the midst of the funeral, outside, the priest droning, and imagine her in that tight black skirt and blouse, on her knees, pushing my cock up her ass while she curses me but doesn’t say no. Just “Don’t,” when I cum, and gasping after each syllable, and squeezing after every spurt of semen enters her asshole, and opening her mouth as I slipped my dick between her breasts in the hot, steamy shower. I think of what possible reason she can have for wanting two-thousand dollars that she’ll let her sister’s boyfriend wipe his dick all over her mouth, or shove it deep into her plump, juicy ass, other than simple greed. I think of all of these things when Tara allows my dick to brush the back of her throat in domestic, consensual oral sex and I can’t help it – I grow harder and ejaculate, imagining Courtney’s butt cheeks tightening around the same shaft that her sister almost gags on.

It gets messy. I didn’t tell Tara I was going to cum and she had me pretty deep. She spluttered, coughing suddenly. When she pulled her mouth back my dick was still ejaculating. Strings of cum leapt from the tip of my shaft while driblets of it stained the corners of Tara’s flushed lips. She wiped her mouth and glared at me. “What the fuck?” she said. She was angry, angry enough to curse. “Ugh,” she groaned. She coughed again.

“I’m sorry, honey,” I tried.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said. She sat up on the bed, in her small bra, her tight stomach tensed.

“It felt so good,” I said. “It’s…kind of a compliment?”

She shook her head, eyes narrow. “I do that for you because I trust you,” she said. “That’s so gross.”

“Well,” I said, trying to sound dignified while my cock twitched and my sperm dried on my stomach, “if you swallowed it, maybe it wouldn’t get everywhere.” (Yeah, that was the right thing to say. I’m both a scumbag and an idiot.)

“Jesus,” Tara said, as if that explained everything. “Sorry, I thought I was making you happy.”

“Honey, don’t do that,” I said. “I’m sorry. What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I have to take a shower.”

“I’ll join you.”

“I don’t want you to.” She got up off the bed and made for the bathroom that adjoined the guest room. She came out just as quickly with a thick towel and folded it neatly on the edge of the bed. “You can use the one in the hall.”

“Okay,” I said. “Are you mad at me?”

Tara coughed in reply. I sighed and let her disappear back behind the bathroom door. In a moment the light was on, she coughed again, and then the shower started.

I understood her anger, at least. We had a system, and I’d blown it. My obsequious attempts at placation were always disheartening to me, because all the “honeys” and “babies” in the world couldn’t make me feel like I’d reclaimed my balls. It was a very real threshold Tara and I were on, the transition between serious coupledom and marriage, and to make her happy, to give her what she wanted, I felt that I had to cover up or ignore the things that were true with this other, fabricated persona.

Not that that had anything to do with cumming in her throat, though. That was my bad.

It had everything to do with where my mind wandered, and maybe why I was never relaxed with her anymore. I wiped myself off with the towel and reluctantly stepped off the bed. I’d been at war with myself for a long time, and it had only been a week since I’d cheated on her with her own sister. Yes, I was the bad guy, there was no denying that. I’d wanted, and I’d taken. Just like I’d wanted Tara a few short years ago, and I’d taken. And now I had her, and I wanted her, and I wanted more. All Tara wanted was commitment and trust. I wrapped the towel around my waist. “You know your problem,” I said quietly to myself, turning the bedroom knob, “you just can’t be trusted.”

I smiled in the dark hallway. It was true. I was a creature of instinct, but cunning instinct, and I probably didn’t deserve Tara, or I didn’t deserve Tara. The truth was, I did love her, but it was a comfortable, uneasy love. It was affectionate, and safe. Who could ask for more?

A knife at your throat.

A knife at your throat brings a lot of focus.

A knife at your throat can torch your self-loathing into a sudden brick of ash, leaving you with nothing but a bath towel and dried cum on your balls. In the dark hallway, right at the edge of the bathroom, a long, sharp knife emerged from the shadows and met my neck; lightly pressed against it. It was, to put it mildly, not what I was expecting.

“Get inside,” a voice whispered.

“The…uh, bahis siteleri bathroom?” I said.

“Yes, idiot.”

That would be Courtney. I sidestepped slowly into the bathroom, the knife held firmly against my neck the whole time, Courtney following me into the room. She shut the door behind us, locked it, and flipped the light on.

Reflexively, I had my hands up. The towel was wrapped loosely around my waist, but other than that I was naked to the world – at least the house. Courtney, under the light of the old-fashioned bathroom, was still in her funeral attire, minus the sport coat. The tight black blouse strained to contain the girl’s ripe breasts, the color of which were caramel, from many tanning sessions. The thigh-length skirt still molded to her body and, surprisingly, she was still strapped into her black high heels. Most of her makeup had been washed off, except for the thin mascara that seemed to eternally circle her eyes. And her dark, dyed black hair seemed thicker, longer now that it had ever been, like a wild mane. The full lips, the upturned nose, the familiar sneer, the evil tan; all of it combined with her haughty, tight body to communicate something arrestingly unattainable. It occurred to me suddenly that I was fucked, because her grandfather’s straight razor was in her hand, and the hand was at my skin. And she didn’t blink.

I swallowed. The blade rose and lowered on my adam’s apple. “Is this because I looked at your tits?”

“What do you think?”

I paused. I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to answer that. So I said, “This might be because we…had sex?”

“You fucked my ass in my sister’s apartment.”

“You’re upset about that.”

The knife pressed against my neck and I tried to raise my hands in as unthreatening a manner as possible. “Sorry- Sorry-“

“Where’s the money?”

“It’s not here.”

She pressed harder with the knife. Enough to actually draw blood. “Whoa! Why would I bring it here?”

“I gave you what you wanted. It’s your fucking turn.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted it now.”

She surprised me by taking a swift stride forward and taking my shoulder in her other hand. The grip was tight. She was half a head shorter than me but her eyes burned up to mine with an unmistakable malice, and her hands did not waver. She was so close to my face I could have slipped my lips into the soft tresses of her bangs. The smell that came off of her was some thick but unsweetened perfume. I recognized, too, the vague smell of sweat, her sweat; in the tiny room evidence that she was human, and not entirely cold. Her breasts, unavoidably, brushed the bare skin of my chest. The two tight pinpricks I felt through the fabric alerted me to the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. In blind defiance of my fear, my cock began to harden.

She practically spit her next words: “When did you think I wanted it?”

“It’s in the bank – I told you.”

“You fucker.” Her eyes searched mine for an interminable moment. Then she seemed to decide something. “You’re never going to give it to me, are you?”

The knife between us was like a third person interrupting the conversation. Everything I could think to say was stopped by its contact with my skin. I said, “Of course I’m going to give it to you. The knife is very convincing.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, without humor. “Get on the floor.”


“Get. On the floor.”

My palms towards her, my eyes widened slightly, trying to grasp what was happening. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to get on the floor. Lie on your back.”

I took a deep breath. There wasn’t much for me to do otherwise, so I slowly bent at the knees, and went down on one, then the other. In the process, the towel caught under my right knee and fell off, piling on the floor behind me. “Uh-” I started but Courtney said, “Leave it. Get back.”

So, naked now, hands still raised, I slowly lowered them to sit on the big, thick bathroom rug that lay between the sink and the bathtub. Courtney came with me, the knife ever at my neck, her other hand digging into my shoulder. We lowered together to the bathroom floor until I was on my back, the towel splayed out beneath me on the bathroom rug, and Courtney slipped her legs over my hips, just below my cock, and sat on me.

Courtney bent over me with the knife. “You’re already hard.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I know,” she said. She reached down with her right hand and tugged at her skirt. The fabric clung to her so tightly she had to pull at one side first, then the other, then back again, to get it up her legs. When she’d tugged and pulled enough I could see her brown, bare thighs under the bunched skirt. A sheer pair of black panties hugged her bald pussy. It was completely shaved, and just visible through the nearly translucent fabric. She was practically sitting on my balls, and that sight made my dick grow harder. “Hope you’re enjoying yourself,” she bahis ┼čirketleri said.

“I have a lot of mixed emotions right now.”

“Shut up.” She brought her right hand up and planted it beside my head. She leaned forward. Suddenly I felt the silk material of her panties shift over the base of my cock. The fabric tingled where it slid over me, and I could feel the unmistakable cleft where the panties had ridden up into her vagina. Courtney dragged the panties over my cock, slowly, until she reached the head, and sat on it. Buried under her pussy, my cock was swamped by the heat that emanated from inside her. “Does that make your dick hard?”

I didn’t answer. But my cock twitched with a reflexive throb.

“That’s what I thought,” Courtney said. “Rip my panties.”

It was hard to know where to look. With the straight razor against my throat it was dangerous to look anywhere but up into her cold eyes. Her heavy tits pushed her shirt down, until they hung over me, ripe and within reach. But I didn’t dare move my hands. You know, in case Courtney was crazy.

I replied with a clueless, “Huh?”

“Rip. My. Panties.” The words hissed through her gritted teeth. “Asshole.”

“I don’t understand.”

She dragged the razor lightly over my skin. “Shut up and do it.”

I reached up. My hands couldn’t find her by sight, so I lifted my fingers into her stomach. She made a face but seemed to understand it, so she allowed me to drag my fingers down her waist, and the bunched up skirt, until I reached the gossamer material between her legs. The straps that bound her hips were barely there at all. I reached deeper, until I brushed her mound, and pulled the fabric between my fingers.

I tore them. They ripped so easily I wondered what woman in her right mind would buy such fragile things, but the pulsations deep in my cock cleared that mystery up right away. In Courtney’s eyes was the registered shock of feeling our bare genitals suddenly in contact, but she didn’t do more than issue a tight gasp from her mouth. I ripped, and continued to rip until the panties were in tatters. They still hung around her hips; I hadn’t touched the band; but her pussy now lay atop my cock, its lips snugly parted over my shaft.

She shifted to roll me between them.

“Was it worth it? Being a prick?”

My cock all but inside Courtney it was difficult to answer.

She leaned down until our noses almost touched. “Are you going to give me the money?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I don’t believe you. And I fucking hate you.”

“Is that right?”

She pressed the knife against me to shut me up.

“Here’s what I’m going to do.” She reared back until she was sitting on me again. My cock was still hard, flattened against my stomach and underneath her pussy. She laid her right hand over my mouth. “Lick it,” she said.

I did.

“More,” she said. I licked Courtney’s palm. I licked the creases in it and the spaces between her fingers. Then she reached down, underneath her, and lifted herself up on her knees. The breach of contact between us alerted me to the coolness of the bathroom air. Above me, Courtney rubbed her palm into her labia. The fingers slipped in. She returned her palm to my mouth, laying her pussy over my cock again as she leaned down. “Lick it,” she said. I did. This time I tasted her pussy on her hand, and my mouth lingered over the taste of her fingers. She pulled back after I planted a kiss in her palm. Courtney rubbed the hand into her cunt again, coating herself with my saliva. She pushed her hand into my mouth. “Lick it,” she said, more hoarsely than before. This time her thighs trembled a bit when she rubbed herself. “Again,” she said. My lips and tongue danced over her fingers. This time when she reached down she took hold of my dick.

Her moist fingers clenched, rubbing my head until the precum oozed from the slit and mixed with the saliva.

“You want to fuck me?” she said. She finally pulled my dick upright. It bulged against her belly. “You were staring at me all day.”

I didn’t deny it.

“You fucked my mouth… You fucked my ass…” With every word her thighs contracted and released. I felt her heartbeat through her stomach, and every contraction was simultaneous with a tight stroke of my cock, like a rough caress. “You had everything. And you still fuck my sister, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, though it was more of a groan.

She leaned forward slightly, not so easy to do with my cock pressed stiffly into her. She was relentless, squeezing it in her hand. If Tara hadn’t blown me minutes ago I would be ready to cum, but the earlier ejaculation had relaxed my body. It did nothing, however, for my burning urge to reach up and pull that blouse down her expansive chest. But she kept the knife to me at all times. “You just want more… More, don’t you?” She looked down. I could see her looking at my cock but I couldn’t remove my eyes from her dark head. I felt the first drips from her pussy land in my pubic thatch. “Were you going to make me fuck you?” she said. “You want my pussy? You want my pussy?” She rubbed my shaft against her vagina. I had to lean my head back against the tile. “You’re going to get it, you fucker.”

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