A Strange Halloween Night

The next weekend I skipped my usual Sunday trip to the gym and decided to clean up a bit at home and cook for the family. Most weekends my husband and me split the kids to give ourselves some alone time. We both value that sort of thing and the kids having lessons or activities gives us a chance to have a bit of time to ourselves as the other one does the driving or activity with the kids. I was lost singing along with the music I was playing, cleaning the kitchen and at the same time counting my ingredients when there was a knock on the side door.

The kitchen in toward the back of the house, the side door is almost at the back of the house and it opens to the kitchen. Nobody really uses it except the kids coming home from school for some reason so the knock sort of threw me off. My stomach sank as I realized it was Matthew.

This is not something that I wanted to have to deal with, but life sort of has a way of paying me back for my misdeeds. As I would come to know, this time it was going to pay me back a lot. Really I was just hoping that he would see it like I did, something nice, but a one time thing and not something that would be carrying on. I didn't want to have to tell him and see the disappointment but it was pretty clear that I didn't really have a choice.

"What are you doing here Matthew?" I tried to keep as detached a voice as I could.

"I don't know, I saw them leave and I came over." His eyes were darting every which way, he was clearly a ball of nervous energy.

"You can't come over here you know?"

"Oh come on, just open door." His eyes almost begging.

I knew that nothing was going to happen and I really didn't want my neighbour to notice me having a long conversation with the boy across the street. Part of me also knew that I did in fact owe him an explanation. After all, I was the adult and I was the one that initiated the whole thing and in the process somewhat initiated him sexually. I couldn't just raise my shields and shun him, I had to talk with him and then maybe he would understand.

"Matthew, I know we did something last week." I had no idea how to start this or what to say, I didn't even want to use the terms for what happened.

He just burst out talking, "Yeah Michelle, and I loved it, I want to do it again, I swear I won't tell anyone."

"Matthew, it's not about that, and I think it's better if we are back to Mrs. again." Implying that my status as a married woman very much hadn't changed and wasn't about it.

"Don't you like me?" His eyes screamed rejection.

I felt jus awful and I tried to think of the softest way to tell him and not make him feel rejected. This was all my fault and I didn't want to make it even worse.

"Matthew," in my most maternal voice, "I do like you and what we did was special but it was special in it's uniqueness." I thought I was off to a pretty good start.

"You know that I'm married and can't be doing that all the time, it's just something that was nice for both of us but we don't want to ruin it."

I continued in this way, it seemed to be pacifying him. His eyes avoided my gaze, but at least he wasn't looking me dead on with the completely rejected look. I was trying to tell him that it wasn't about rejection, tried to make a few jokes about how much older I was and threw in some compliments that would perhaps let him leave with his ego still in tact. All in all it seemed to work, eventually he left, left with slumped shoulders and still disappointed but there wasn't much else I could do.

Once he was gone, I felt like the worst person ever. The gravity of what I did was plain as day. I wasn't just making someone feel better, I was sending messages that I should have never been sending, to someone that couldn't have been mature enough to receive them. He couldn't possibly think that I was going to be his on call blow job giver, but that was exactly what he thought. He wasn't mature in the ways of sexuality among adults, or aware of women like me. Yep women like me, I had crossed over to a dark corner and I was despaired to say that I even had a victim.

It didn't stop there. I thought that at the very least he understood the problem. He kept watching me, I could see him from the upper window or their house, sometimes he would hide and other times he just looked dead on. The guilt was starting to give me a cold demeanour and I wasn't giving him soft looks. A cold December morning I saw an envelope on the front seat of my car when I was going to work. Inside was a letter, it was a three page hand written love letter. I could barely read it all as it went back in forth pleas and exclamations of true love. I was everything he ever wanted, the perfect woman, the very expression of his soul. He wanted to make love to me and share the closeness of being one person. I knew that I really fucked up this time.

It was really bad. I figured the only way to handle this was to ignore it. It would stop if I didn't fuel it, it just had to. I was also scared about what I just might say to him, the sympathy was gone by this point, he was being obsessive and completely creepy. We didn't even know each other, he was calling us soul mates and writing about our life together. I really was past the point of crazy.

More letters followed. Dark letters about being shunned by his true love. They also started to take an angry tone. This was pretty disturbing, I couldn't do anything expect be disturbed though. Who was I going to tell? I couldn't tell anyone because of what I did. In essence this was my fault, if I didn't do what I did then this would never have happened. By this point if it were something trivial I would have taken the heat and admitted it, but it wasn't trivial I had cheated on my husband. Cheated with a boy nonetheless, it was completely embarrassing, I couldn't face my husband, I couldn't face his mother. I destroyed every one of his letters as to leave no evidence. I was really stuck, I couldn't give into him and I couldn't seem to stop his obsession which really seemed to be getting worse.

A very cold day in February came the letter that would turn bad to much worse.

I know you hate me and I don't care I don't care about anything anymore my life couldn't get any worse and you are the cause. Well now you are going to pay and you are going to give me what I want and I want it all. Im not messing around the next letter will be to your husband and I'm not messing around. There's nothing more for me to lose in this world so I'm just going to take. I will tell what we did and I don't care I will tell unless you give me what I want. Tell me when their gone tell me when to come and then this doesn't have to happen but I will tell I swear I will tell. I want it all and that mean everything you have five days to answer. Leave you response in your car at night and the door unlocked since you loath so much to talk to me.

I sat silently in the car trying to formulate my thoughts. I was being blackmailed. This little fucking boy was blackmailing me! Who the fuck did he think he was? I felt sort of sorry for him before but now I just hated this obsessive and utterly disturbed boy. I was going through my enraged thoughts and as if struggling for air. Then the solution hit me all at once: There was no evidence of anything, I would just say he's a psychopath and that would be that. My husband would never believe this crap and he has absolutely no proof. I wasn't going to write this in a letter but I was willing to say it to this little shit's face. This time I would enjoy to look of disappointment when he realized he had nothing over me.

I thought about it all day, I wanted to make sure not to fall into any traps. I would tell him without ever making reference to the actual incident. If he tried to tape me saying something incriminating I wouldn't fall for it. All of my words would be carefully chosen for as much impact as I could have and to hopefully rid myself of this. I paid enough for my actions, this blackmail was over the line. He was now playing a dangerous game and he didn't hold all the cards. I would say he is blackmailing me with lies, if he didn't stop I would go directly to the cops. This was one letter I kept.

I typed a very short response and left it in the car. I told him a public place to meet me and discuss this. I didn't bait him and I didn't tell him anything about what I was thinking. We met at a food court in a mall at a non-busy time. For me, there would be enough tables with nobody around and security guards if he tried anything violent. At this point I wasn't making any assumptions about what he would or wouldn't do. Being blackmailed had really shaken me but I wasn't about to fall over for him.

I talked and he listened, his bravado that he displayed in his letters was all but gone from his physical being. This was my blackmailer, a thin and lanky boy who I wasn't even sure could over power me physically; something that wouldn't take that much strength to do. It was pathetic and I was meant to put him in his place. I avoided any actual mention of the truth of his accusations, just calling him lies with a knowing look. I was just about done and ready to conclude this meeting when he spoke up with almost a cracked voice.

"If this is such a lie..........how is your husband going to take it when I tell him about your "speciality".............how you kiss the head and swirl your tongue........" He just about trailed of with a timid look of satisfaction in his eyes waiting for my reaction.

I think I turned white on the spot. My carefully chosen words were no longer any help to me. He was right, that was the usual way I ended a blowjob, I'd done if for my husband 1000s of times, there was no mistaking it.

"No.........don't................you can't." I was defeated in that moment.

"You now have three days." He said this with piercing eyes, he could see me crumble in front of him and he knew that he had a detail I couldn't refute.

I didn't leave the mall until it closed. I sat blank stared and immobilized with what can only be called fear. I had nothing I could do. If I only had to face my husband and had he been older I would have admitted to the whole thing. Under these circumstances, I saw my picture in the paper, I saw women like my daughter's friend's mom whispering, I saw every horrible outcome that there was. This was worse than being a bad wife, this was being a bad person. Sure I could prove that he was blackmailing me, but at what cost. Matthew was certainly playing a high stakes game and he was willing to gamble.

I had to take his threats seriously to tell my husband. He had shown the willingness to be brash and demonstrated that in his mind he had nothing to lose. I tried to stall for time, I asked for another meeting and explained that the house wouldn't be empty for a while. He wasn't buying it, not the man who had been watching my house for months, he knew our patterns better than we did. I tried to plead to his sympathy, but he had none of that either. Finally I resigned to what I had to, told him that next Sunday he could come to the back door at 10:00 in the morning and I would let him in. He was going to win, I felt like I had no choice, I wasn't willing to pay the same price to avoid it that he was willing to get it.

I spent the rest of the week as a zombie. By blackmailing me he had stolen my willpower. It was the complete opposite of the carefree and light feeling I had that night, this was heavy and oppressive. I started to think that maybe he wouldn't go through with it, he was just a kid, he couldn't be this evil.

When Sunday did come so did he, right on the minute he was there; 10:00. I was watching the clock and apparently so was he. Nobody would be home until evening. If I was going to pay his price it would be now. I only had one more thing to say to him.

"Once this is done, this is it, I've kept your letters and I will go to the police. I will be forced to accept my humiliation and let you ruin my life. I can't be your slave, but I will pay the price."

He was unmoved by my last attempt to make him see the gravity of what he was about to do to me. At the same time he seemed less than in control of the situation. He looked timid, he looked afraid really, but part of him must have been determined.

"I want you to go upstairs"

"And just what do you want? At least say it once." I fumed back at him.

He once again looked like a deer in headlight and he stumbled with his words, "I wanttttt.. I wannn...I want you to go upstairs."

He was scared but his eyes looked angry. I started to realize that he wasn't really having that much fun doing this. He was doing it, but he had no idea how to and he was loathing himself for doing it. His mind was completely deranged and this was a manifestation of it. I didn't move from my spot until he shouted in frustration.

"GO UPSTAIRS!"

I just wanted it over with, "Can it just happen here?"

"No," he was almost pouting now, "on a bed."

"Please no?" I pleaded with him, "don't fuck me on my bed"

That was the first time that either one of us used the world that we both new was involved here. At least it was out there now, that is what he came to do and we both knew it. I looked him in the eyes to try to read any sense of withdrawal, any sense of sympathy, but I didn't find any. He was timid but cold and it was a cold determination.

"Go upstairs!" He pointed, still too intimidated to touch me.

I relented and went to the bedroom, him following not that far behind.

"Take off your clothes." His teeth were almost grinding and his eyes were empty.

I stripped down to my panties and stood in front of him. The cool morning sunshine lingered in the rooms sending shadows across the room. Everything looked still and in a way peaceful. I didn't feel embarrassed being naked in front of him. He hadn't removed any of his clothing yet, he was still wearing a winter jacket. This was a bizarre twist of roles, my attacker was like a determined mouse who somehow killed a cat and was trying to figure out what to do with it.

"You're......panties.." He nearly signed this under his breath as his breathing was becoming laboured.

I did as I was told and stood in the same way completely naked now.

"On......the.....bed..." His commands were reduced to syllables now.

I went on the bed and layed on my back. This bizarre episode just kept getting weirder.

"Cl...ose.....you...r....e...yes"

I closed my eyes and heard his clothes coming off. My extortionist was actually shy for me to see him naked. He settled between my legs I could feel his shirt on my chest as he looked for where to put his hands. He was clearly naked from the waist down as I felt his penis looking for a place to enter. His one hand settled beside my head and I opened my eyes to look up at him. This whole thing felt so mechanical, with no warmth of love making, we were naked on the bed but we were strangers.

"Just go slow, it's ok." As the universe turned upside down I was reassuring him.

It all just felt so out of place. Nothing really made any sense. I couldn't believe that this was my rapist.

"I want......you to............llike it..." He looked completely scared in that moment.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was asking me to like it. I remembered that he had never done it before and that sexuality can break down shields and expose weakness in ways that words and looks just can't. I was overcome with confusion, confusion that I felt like I understood him in that moment.

"It's ok, we will get it right." With that I promised to be complicit in his initiation and that seemed to ease his fears.

I felt the head push in first and he held it there for a while before all in one motion plunging the rest down hard almost collapsing on top of me.

"Errrrhhgggg"

"Are you ok?" It was almost cute if it wasn't so messed up, my rapist was actually worried if I was ok.

"Yeah, I'm finnne..." I assured him.

He pulled it out half and then back in really deep.

"Ah ah ah ah." I let my breath out in sharp sounds.

"Are you ok?" he asked again

"Yeah, just ..........getting fucked" I said exhaling.

At that moment, he pulled it out and came all over my belly and chest. He was breathing hard and apologizing profusely.

"I just couldn't hold it...........are you ok?..................was it ok?"

"Just take a break, catch your breath." I tried to calm him down a little.

He sat beside me on the bed looking down at me when I looked away and looking away when I caught his gaze.

After only about a minute, he said, "I'm ready again." I wasn't completely surprised.

We never really talked about when this was over, but I think we came to some sort of understanding when we got on the bed. He was back in and completely hard once again. He was able to control it a little better this time. I helped him get his armed under me so he could wrap them around my shoulders for leverage.

What started out clumsy was starting to gain some rhythm, he went slowly but measured his trusts to sync with my breath. His stiff and rigid body even started to relax into it. I could feel confidence building as he worked his cock in and out of me. He fumbled as he took his shirt off but for the first time he seemed to be having fun. He wasn't asking if I was ok anymore, he seemed to sense that my body was responding to his repeated advance and withdraw.

"Fuck me.............hard." I managed to say through the grunting and heavy breathing of this to this point slow affair.

He took it from there and took a more aggressive potion on top of me, pinning my legs beside my ears. His lust was so pure, so demented and so focused on me. I was almost impossible for me not to get turned on by that, in my twisted mind those things all turned me on. I didn't want him in me, I didn't want him on my bed and there I was welcoming the intrusion with ecstasy. Nevertheless my orgasm took me by surprise, it was a culmination of the mechanical emotions turning to lust. He took no notice of what just happened and continued to fuck me like I was all that mattered in the world.

"You just made me cummmm" I managed to tell him.

"ahhhhhhhhhhhhh....ooommmgnn.........cummmmming..."

"Please take it out!!!" I said in desperation.

He listened to this plea and took it out and shot more on me, this time hitting my chin and neck. He didn't seem bothered by the formality of asking me if it was ok to cum there.

We were both out of breath, and he almost fell on top of me. "Oh God" were the only words he could utter. We didn't speak to each other for some time. I think we were both trying to register what just happened. He had just finished playing with every emotion I had, from sympathy to loathing, from utter hatred to complete ecstasy.

He brushed my black hair from in front of my face and looked me straight in the eyes. This was something he was not completely able to do until this point. He was sitting up with one arm draped over me and I could tell he was savouring this victory.

"Are we done now?" I said as if to remind him of the circumstances that led to this tryst.

He nodded and stood up. His composure had changed and he made no attempts to cover his naked body. He didn't look any different, but at the same time he didn't look like a boy to me anymore. However it came to what it came to, we were the most unlikely of partners, but the intensity of the affair made it something I knew I would never forget. I had to trust that he would respect our agreement and leave it here and for some reason that I don't understand I had complete faith in that.