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Larry Knew Better

She couldn’t stop giggling. She was in fits of laughter and Larry was not amused. What the hell was wrong with this woman?

Larry had been out to one of the local men’s clubs having some beers and hooting at the women when this redhead caught his attention. She was older than he usually liked but she was natural, no plastic, and that was what he liked. He didn’t fancy her, per se, but thought she would serve his purpose for the evening. Larry found little use for women outside of his own sexual gratification and, of course, his need to teach them their place. They were to be seen, felt, used, but never heard unless at his desire. They were never to giggle. Never. He would teach her what she is to say and when.

“You find something funny, whore,” he barked his query.

“No. I just… I just…” and her giggles continued.

“You want to giggle? Uh?”

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just a nervous habit.”

“Do I make you nervous, whore?”

A look of indignation appeared upon her heavily made up face. “I’m no whore!”

“And yet you are here, in a motel room with me. You don’t even know my name. My dear, a whore is exactly what you are and tonight you are my whore. Now, open that insipid mouth of yours and put it to good use.” Larry unfastened his belt and jeans as he walked over to where she sat in the lone motel room chair. Before she could utter another word he grabbed her by the hair and rammed his cock into her open mouth until she gagged. Then he did it again and again.

He pulled back so she could catch her breath. She looked up at him, opened her mouth again and started sucking him. Her tongue whirling about and flicking the tip of his cock.

“Good whore,” Larry groaned at her. This is what women are good for he thought, giving him pleasure. He then wondered how she’d feel about the pleasure he would soon give her.

These whores from the men’s clubs so confounded him. There they were taking their clothes off, dancing and teasing the men. They wanted to get them excited so they would spend money, more than the paltry amount they had dished out for the warm beer and lousy food. The men didn’t come for the food or drink though, they came for the whores. They were easy, anyone could see, yet when he would pick one to finish the job she would act all innocent with a ‘I’ve never done this kind of thing before’ line. Why did they pretend to be what they weren’t, pretend they didn’t want what it was they truly desired?

Larry knew better. He knew they wanted it, enjoyed it. They just needed to be told to. They needed to feel like they were still being good girls when doing the things they wanted to do anyway.

This whore was giving him a great blow. Her mouth had surely sucked many a man and tasted the liquid gold they spewed. And still she wanted to be treated like a good girl. No, she didn’t deserve to be treated like a good girl. She deserved to be treated like the whore she was.

Larry didn’t think being a whore was a bad thing. It was a great thing, it was what men wanted. Owning ones sexual desires and abilities was something to be celebrated and honored. You like to suck cock? Great! You enjoy being bathed in the cum of countless men? Excellent! You like to be called a dirty two-bit whore? Good for you! You like playing both sides at the local swingers club? Perfect!

That doesn’t mean you can’t also be treated like a lady. You are one. Clearly. The problem Larry finds is that too many women think they have to be one or the other, lady or whore, not realizing that they are both. Every woman is a lady and every woman is a whore, it’s just the ratio that differs.

Larry pulled out of her mouth. “Time to bend over, whore. Let me find out how tight that ass of yours really is.”



It’s Wicked Wednesday time again. Click the link below to read some more wicked tales.
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The rain through the night had caused me to sleep like a baby. Peaceful and content. I was glad to see it had eased off in the early morning though. Victor and I had planned on going for a hike around the escarpment and it wouldn’t be as fun if it were wet and rainy. I could see myself slipping and sliding on the wet path. I wasn’t the most eloquent under the best of circumstances. I could fall over my own two feet given half a chance, and I was given many chances.

After the rain subsided the sun made a brilliant debut and things began to dry out. We packed up the jeep and hit the road. It was a beautiful morning. The sun sent the remaining clouds away and the stifling heat of the summer was still long ahead of us. The trees were showing off their beautiful blossoms and vibrant shades of green were emerging after a long dormant winter. A perfect spring day.

Arriving at the head of the escarpment just after eight, there was only one other vehicle in the lot ahead of us. Surprising for this time of year. It isn’t usually as packed as during the hot July days when people come in droves to enjoy an afternoon under the forests protective canopy, but it is still generally a busy place. Maybe the earlier rain had kept them away. I wasn’t complaining.

We grabbed our packs and headed out. The trails weren’t bad at all. With the foliage just sprouting on the trees the canopy was not nearly as thick as it would soon become. It still kept the trails well protected from the rain. Rays of sunshine seeped through casting light and shadow amongst the trees, highlighting some trillium that were just blooming. It was nice to be able to take our time and enjoy the scenery, the sights and sounds, without a lot of interference from other hikers.

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As we made our way through the trails I could feel the heat rising. Not from the sun, but from inside of me. I could feel the anticipation building as Victor casually touched me, hands lightly placed on hips to help hold me steady during the climbs. His sweet little kisses and hand taking mine, telling me it was time to move along after stopping to observe several deer grazing close to the trail. We continued on, doing our little dance, playing our own little cat and mouse game that we both knew would have a certain end.

More than an hour later, as we were nearing the suspension bridge, the tension reached it’s breaking point. The game was over and the cat finally pounced on the mouse. Before I even realized what was happening Victor had me, back up against a tree, pants down past my knees, his fingers fucking my cunt and his mouth devouring me.

He knows my body so well. Within moments I was writhing, moaning, barely supressing screams of pleasure, succumbing to his touch with a rolling orgasm that did not want to end. I was peaking again and again as he continued his assault. When I thought I could bear no more, when I thought I would surely pass out, he stopped.

A breath.

Two breaths.

He kissed me then, soft and tender, a gentleness in his touch that belied the force with which he entered me next. A scream tried to escape as his cock rammed into me but his hand was quick to stifle it.

No, he said, you will be quiet. His mouth now up to my ear, growling at me… You will be quiet you little whore. You will be quiet while I fuck you, use you. You are mine, I own you. You know this. Don’t you forget it, you little whore… as he continued fucking me hard, primal, like an animal, until he pushed one last time and came with a force so strong I thought he might just collapse himself.

A breath.

Two breaths.

His hand released me. He stepped back, pulled up his own jeans, buckled his belt, and started back along the path.



Now that you’ve read my wicked thoughts, click the link below to see what others have to say on this Wicked Wednesday.
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