A Mysterious Guest

Because the college bimbo laughed.

Unfortunately, it happened at one of those strange moments that happens every now and then (at :15 and :45, they say), the music caught just in between songs, the conversation lulled to a very low standstill. In any case, there was more than enough silence in the room to amplify the bimbo's pealing laughter into a reverberating, blaring symphony of mockery.

On and on went the laugh, the bimbo's eyes squeezed tightly shut, a slim arm and a sexy leg thrown over the Faun, who still looked as though he couldn't have cared less even as he cupped her surging tit between black-nailed fingers. He sat back, self-indulgent with a scornful smile as Natalie, in disbelief, turned to stare at the bimbo. Even from behind I recognized the set of her shoulders, the rippling muscles in her back, and I wondered whether I should shout for the college girl to run and hide.

But no; of course it wouldn't have helped, Natalie deploying her long fingernails to full effect as she swept them down to shred the poor bimbo's cheek. The blood started right away, a slow ooze that soon grew into a steady dribble and then a sheet of red down to her jaw; the screaming began right afterward, and as Natalie fled toward the backdoor the crowd converged on the poor torn girl on the leather couch.

I was speechless, my jaw well and truly dropped, my eyes wide; my nerveless fingers crushed the red cup, jungle juice trickling down my fingers like the blood down that girl's face. The scrum grew and surged in front of me, and just as my struggling brain started to catch up with the bizarre reality of this situation, I smelled again that manly, gamy smell, a thunderbolt to my pussy, and there stood the Faun, right beside me with a glint in those eyes and that mischievous smile still glued to his lips.

And then, wonder of wonders, he was stooping, bending that sleek, beautiful bullet head, and all of a sudden it was my ear he was whispering into. His voice, as I might have guessed, was a deep, sullen rasp.

"She'll be going the long way up to her bedroom, to avoid the others." He sounded absolutely certain. "If you get there first, you might like what you see in a few minutes." He chuckled, sly and cruel and carefree. "Not as much as she'll like it, though."

I didn't even realize I was holding my breath until I let it out in a sigh. And then I worked my way as best I could toward the stairs.

* * *

I'd hauled that damn pillowcase back to Natalie's house, the stuff inside feeling strangely heavier even as I grew more and more aware that my wallet was that much lighter. But I'd snuck into her room after Nicole had let me wordlessly into the house, my presence there completely unremarkable after so many years, just the same old inconsequential Meredith Hemmings that nobody except the math teachers paid any attention to.

I'd dropped the bracelets and the necklace into Natalie's jewelry case, put the thong gingerly back into her top drawer, and dumped the rest of the bag into the closet.

The same closet I shut myself into after the Faun told me to go to her room. It was musty in there, and I well knew why: behind the curtain of her silk pastel blouses and the neatly-hung rows of slacks, the back of Natalie Cross' closet was wallpapered with underwear.

And not hers, either. A lot of it had belonged to that fucking teacher of hers, stapled to the wall in a careful sequence that, I presumed, was chronological. With nothing better to do, I counted them: she'd apparently fucked him 27 times. Or at least taken off 27 pair of boxers, now sagging unwashed in her closet, where she could take a satisfied glance at them as she got dressed in the morning. He wasn't her only victim, though: five soiled sets of tighty-whities, one of them ripped clear through the crotch, followed the knot of brightly-colored boxers, and then there was a row of mixed briefs and boxers straggling to the floor. And so it was against this crusty, malodorous backdrop that I leaned, sighing, waiting for I knew not what.

And it wasn't long in coming.

The door to Natalie's room, which I'd carefully left just as I found it, banged open as she barged through, muttering. "Dumb motherfucker," I heard, though whether she meant the Faun or herself, or even the college bimbo, I couldn't have guessed. Her ballet-slippered feet minced past the closet, and for a moment I was afraid she'd kick them off and open the slatted door that blocked me. But before I could even wonder what I'd do about that, the Faun showed up.

From where I crouched, my ass now brushing the boxers, I couldn't see the door. But I could see Natalie, her back to me, as she tensed up suddenly and turned that way. Her gasp had to have been audible downstairs. I saw her body clearly through the wet, filthy bodysuit, every muscle hard and tight and neatly defined in the light of her bedside lamp. "Jesus Christ," she breathed, and there was a warble of fear there that I never would have thought I'd hear from Natalie. It reminded me of myself, the night the teacher had taken me in this very room. "What are you doing here?"

His laugh was harsh in reply. "What am I doing here? Good God." Natalie's floorboards creaked as he walked in, the door closing with the snap of its lock. "You've spent the evening throwing yourself at me, you silly girl. I'm here to throw myself back." I almost didn't notice a slight, sudden chill, and even then it was only from the goosebumps. My nipples, too, were paying attention; the Faun had a voice like nothing I'd ever heard before. I could see Natalie through the slats, shivering in her totally inadequate outfit.

"You're not unattractive," he muttered, and suddenly there he was: I could see him now, too, walking slowly and with slight menace. "I'll fuck you now, if you're still game."

I heard Natalie, the great and powerful Natalie, whimper just a bit, way down in her throat. "Don't do me any favors," she started, brave enough at first; I could hear the waver in her voice, though, and I was certain the Faun could, too. He stopped within arm's reach, then just stood before her, breathing hard. Already the entire bedroom reeked of the masculine, intoxicating stink of penis.

"Oh," he chuckled, "I won't." I saw him rub thoughtfully at his mouth as he gazed very frankly at her body. "Yes. You'll do. You're an arrogant bitch, but I'll tame you."

"Who are you?" There was no more bravery now, her once-strong tones now brittle. "Are you one of Bart's friends?"

"You don't care who I am," he replied nonchalantly, and then I looked more closely at his legs. Why hadn't I noticed it before? His legs must have been covered in a hairy version of Natalie's bodysuit, transparent but for the patches of coarsely matted fur, now spilled with beer and sweat. He maneuvered around Natalie, herding her toward the bed, and suddenly I was looking at his ass: good God! He looked naked, but for the hair. I squinted out, cursing my drunkenness, wondering whether he just had fur glued onto the skin of his legs.

His butt was rocklike beneath the hair, two perfectly symmetrical cheeks that looked as though they'd been cast in bronze. The backs of his thighs, too, were models of sinewy perfection, and then I did a double-take as I realized his legs were parted, just a tad, and as I looked in between...

No. No way.

If that really was the back of his scrotum, then his balls had to be the size of plums. Shit. I squinted harder, trying to see through the shadows between his legs and try to get a sense of how big his shaft was, and much to my shock I saw nothing. Neither shaft nor head nor any other trace could I see.

Which had to mean he was either really small, or really hard, and pointing directly at...

Instinctively my eyes flitted up to catch Natalie, sinking weakly down onto her bed, her face a mask of shock through smeared makeup as she stared in fascination at his groin. "Is... I... Holy shit." She dragged unwilling eyes up to his face, her whole posture trembling with respectful fear. "Is that real?"

His laugh was a deep, deep rumble, competing with the bass from downstairs thumping through the floor. "You'll find out in just a second how real it is. Get that shit off your body. I only take my whores naked. Skin on skin," he sneered, and I became aware of a steady, rhythmic squishing noise as I realized I could only see one of his hands. The shoulder of the other one was flexing smoothly; he was jacking himself right toward her incredulous face. "I'm not going to ask again; I'll just go downstairs and fuck some other cunt," he said, low and painful, and Natalie nearly turned herself inside-out in her haste to peel off her catsuit.

The thin cloth, stressed all night with sweat, booze, and Natalie's own fragrant leakage, holed here and there where she'd fallen in the foyer, tore easily as her hands spasmed at her throat, ripping the costume clean through down the center of her body. She grunted as she got the rip started, then I heard a snarl of triumph as she stripped the flimsy rags from her pale, sleek body.

I'd seen Natalie Cross naked many times, but I'd only seen her in heat once or twice: there's something about a fully aroused woman that makes your breath catch in your throat, I don't care how hetero you are. Right now Natalie looked radiant, her skinny body flushed and as ripe as it could possibly be, already shiny with sweat as the catsuit came free, sticking against her crotch.

"You can leave the shoes on," the Faun growled, his voice now cruel with lust. "You'll need the traction when I bend you over." He moved then, pushing past her as she hopped on one foot trying to tear away the last of her costume. And then, squaring himself right in front of my closet hiding place, he turned and sat on her bed.

At once I found myself empathizing with Natalie. No cock could possibly be that big. It stretched reddened and angry, bobbing with his pulse, sprouting from the coarse forest of hair on his legs like a sequoia rising from some bushes. Below hung his balls, just as big from the front but now placed into context for my wondering eyes: the whole thing had a wonderful, thrilling symmetry, and that's why Natalie had had respect on her shocked face.

But there'd been fear, too; Natalie Cross was a small woman, and though she prided herself on being able to take all sizes and shapes, I couldn't imagine she'd be looking forward, in a physical sense, to taking that monster into her slit. Ah, but she wasn't thinking of the physical sense right now: she was thinking emotionally, biologically, her entire body flushed with excitement as she knelt to his cock.

A blowjob was something I'd seen Natalie give a time or two; there was even a video, circulating around the school among kids who knew the right people, of herself sucking off that teacher of hers. But this was different. The Faun wasn't interested in blowing his load into Natalie's mouth, and he'd already told her as much; he just wanted her kneeling, lubricating him with her tongue, and the bored eyes that glared critically down at her told the real story.

Her back, always a thing of athletic, graceful beauty, had all its muscles outlined in sharp relief by the low lighting, the ass beneath perfect in its proportions as she worked. I heard the noisy, splattering noises of a woman sucking hard, saw her fingers tighten and loosen against his thighs. Now and then, I watched her straighten off his dick, then bend down, sideways, to nibble at his balls; while she did so, that massive, veiny penis glimmered in the light with her saliva. I was in awe; the thing was a marvel, a wonder of the world, strong and thick and long and altogether powerful. The blunt, cut head spread wide, glistening with his fluids.

It was during one of those times, her head down low and her hands hanging on tight, that I became aware of the Faun's face again. He was looking at me now, or at least at my hiding place, and he had a slight smile on his face. It arrested me, even as my hand was already sending a trembling finger into my wet pussy; it was a different kind of smile than I'd seen while he'd been talking to Natalie. No way could he see me, I knew, but I got the definite sense he knew I was there, that he wanted me in on the conspiracy, the secret thrill of degradation as he accepted Natalie's submission. And then, his smile widening for me, he wrapped his fingers around Natalie's head, moved it back to the top of his cock, and shoved it down hard.

I felt for her; I really did. Her fingers splayed as her knees came up in a reflexive, fight-or-flight crouch, the sickening sound of her gagging and retching providing a perverse counterpoint to his growl as she took him impossibly deep, the sudden twisted arch in her spine telling me she was trying her best to free up her neck, to suck it all down. "Ahh, that's it," the Faun groaned playfully. "I want to feel your tears on my cock."

He held her there for three seconds, then five, the terrible gagging growing louder and more urgent as she made tiny fists on his legs. I saw her legs tremble, then her back muscles grew taut with the effort; she was starting to sweat now. Ten seconds, and then the Faun wrapped his fingers through her ruined braids and threw her up and off. "Enough!" he cried, sounding almost as if he was offended by her efforts. "Bend over the foot of the bed, whore. It's time to fuck."

Heaving on the floor, wiping at her mouth, Natalie got numbly to her feet and left a trail of saliva and her own pussy juice in her wake as she shuffled robotically to obey. The Faun now had her sideways to me, and my mouth went dry as I realized he was about to take her, violently, right in front of me. I'd see every thrust, hear the balls slapping against her clit, see her tiny tits tremble with her effort.

The Faun took his time, his dick now completely coated with her spit, and he turned to face her as he stood. "Taste good?" he demanded crudely. Then, giving that same harsh laugh from before, he sauntered behind her, towering over her quaking body, his mammoth cock not even bobbing as he moved, so hard was it. He was still standing well back from her when his dickhead made its first contact with her needy pussy, his hands moving to rest calmly on her ass. "Something else you wanted?" he jeered.

"Yes." It came out as a whisper, and his grin spread.

"Really? Tell me." He moved his hips lazily side to side, teasing her, his fingernails driving into her flesh. I heard her moan, low and long.

"I want you to fuck me," she grunted, closing her eyes, her hips beginning to push her ass back now. Giggling, the Faun retreated; he smacked her butt hard.

"Beg, bitch."

She didn't even hesitate. "Please fuck me. Please! I need you to fuck me!" Deep breaths now, her ribcage shrinking and expanding like crazy. "You can do anything you want to me!"

She was panting now, her body snaky and pliant as he painted the slick wet lips of her pussy with his blunt, massive head. "Maybe once I'm through with you," he mused, his deep voice failing to cover the slithering whisper of their lubricated skin, clearly audible from inside the closet, "I can take that skanky little friend you brought. She's the one I really want." He sounded as if it didn't matter, his massive hot hands reaching across to latch onto her toned waist. Natalie's face twisted incredulously.

"What? You want Meredith?"

"That's the one." He was lining himself up, his sublimely muscled ass rotating with exquisite slowness, in total control over both their bodies. "Is that her name?" He shrugged. "The one dressed as the witch, with the sexy fucking ass. Yeah, she'll feel better than you," he decided, looking critically down at her small slit. "I'd do your sister, too, if she was old enough. They're both hotter than you."

"I... what the fuck?" And that was it, Natalie's face scowling in confusion and disbelief, utterly shocked in the moment that I saw him tighten his butt, the muscles there taut and beautiful as they forced his dick into her tight pussy, those clawlike hands holding her body firmly in place as he shoved the entire thing in, coldly and without emotion, skewering her. And the great, powerful Natalie Cross, completely helpless for the first time since I'd known her, howled.

It was quite a howl. There was physical pain there, of course, but then a cock that size would have hurt most women, and Natalie was not a large girl. Far beyond that, though, was a more pitiful sound, delightful to my ears: the pain of rejection, of dismissal, of the worst thing she could imagine in a man: indifference. Natalie cared about nobody; about time someone taught her what that felt like.

"Yeah," he mused, sounding less like he was fucking and more like he was sitting on a couch having a scholarly discussion; he wanted her to know this meant absolutely nothing to him, even as he sent his massive dick pounding in and out of her thrashing little body like she was just an afterthought, one of the cheaper varieties of blow-up dolls you'd find at a dollar store. Inside my hiding place, staring wide-eyed through the slats, I felt my breath start coming faster as I saw the Faun flex his ass: he was going to fucking hammer her. My fingers, three of them, were busy in my own pussy now, the slurp of my arousal filling the closet with the rich, sharp smell of me. Relentlessly, remorselessly, he'd leave her slack and panting, probably even gagging.

She'd be bowlegged for days.

And as my breath quickened and my fingers continued their long, steady slither, I wondered if this was quite what I'd bargained for when I bought the curse from the tarot reader. Well, too late to wonder about that; I was about to find out, but not as fully as Natalie would.

I saw her legs straighten involuntarily as he backed out, then rammed back into her, and I'm not sure whether the growl I heard came from her or from him. The Faun was steady, a metronome rocking with coldly experienced motion as he systematically wrecked her pussy. "That cunt's never going to want any other dick," he gloated, and as I caught a look at her face, lined with exertion and excitement, I knew he was right. "When you're on your fucking deathbed, your last thoughts are going to be about my cock splitting you open." He jammed forward again, Natalie yelping. "Like it is right this fucking second."

"Take me!" She was not, ever, a vocal lover; Natalie was normally as cold and clinical as could be, fucking her men and boys with brutal efficiency. She was certainly finding out what brutal efficiency felt like now. "I can feel you everywhere!" she wailed, and he laughed as he smacked her again. I could see the bruise on her hip where his hand had been clutching her. She was trying her best to buck back against him, but it was a losing battle against such a powerful penis. "I want your cum!"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," he snarled. "Be careful what you wish for." They were an incredible pair, his powerful muscles surging and twisting with skilled and perfect movement, Natalie starting to lose it now as she bent over her footboard, taking every inch of his angry cock. I'd never seen, never even thought of, a sight so raw, so blatantly carnal, the sounds and smells of their fucking dominating my hazy mind as, with trembling legs, I came on my fingers.

Natalie, too, was losing her shit. "Aughh," she sighed, starting to collapse across the footboard, her whole body beginning to shut down. "Enough..."

"Fuck you," the Faun replied savagely. "You're not done until I cum." His arms bulged as he took more of her weight, holding her effortlessly in place as his cock kept up its pace. He cleared his throat, hawked, and spat down onto her pale little body, an indifferent thumb working the saliva along his cock. "You're drying out. What kind of slut are you, anyway?"