Drummer Boy - The Call Ch. 01

He kept fucking her, so fast now that when he was fully inside her, his balls smacked loudly against her ass cheeks. The feeling was driving her crazy, and building his own orgasm to the point where he'd lose control.

"I'm fucking you, baby," he said. "I'm inside you, making you come. You did this to me. Feel how hard you make me."

"yesss..." Kristin moaned. "so good...fucking me..." She squealed suddenly and he felt her vaginal walls clutch him intensely, squeezing him along the length of his fully inserted cock.

"Fuck, fuck, god damn, fuck!" She yelped this out as her pelvis bucked in Jason's grip. He was definitely going over the edge now, and began pounding her roughly, rhythm be damned.

Jason's felt like his cock was going to explode, literally burst, as Kristin continued cussing, and she spasmed repeatedly against him. Her bucking slowed as her orgasms wound down, but Jason was peaking. This was going to be a good one.

"Oh Jesus fuck, honey I'm gonna – "

But Kristin had one more surprise for him. "Pull it out!" she said. "Pull it out, you dirty fucker! Hose the lady down."

"I'm gonna – " he repeated, straining to get the words out.

"The lady wants to see you come," Kristin growled. "The lady wants to feel your hot come on her skin. The lady wants you to blow your load all over her!"

With deft quickness, she angled her legs from their position wrapped around Jason's back. Now they were on his shoulders, firmly pushing him back so that he was no longer inside her cunt, but instead his cock was sliding against her sopping wet slit. She pressed her thighs together, surrounding his cock, and the flesh there was enough to form a pseudo-pussy for him to fuck.

"There you go, drummer boy," Kristin said, "pound away."

He pounded away, resuming his former speed. In fact, with his cock covered in her pussy juices, and free from the upper limit of Kristin's cervix, he could fuck her as hard as he wanted to without fear of hurting her. A few strokes and he was harder than ever, ready to blow.

His balls bounced against her ass forcefully, making a pop, pop sound each time. Her pussy was still soft and engorged and wet, lubing his cock from below. And her thighs were soft but squeezed his cock with amazing firmness. Kristin coaxed him on through each thunderous thrust.

"That's it, baby, 'splode on the lady. Shoot that cum all over me. God, you're gonna get me so messy. Sloppy jizz all over my tummy. I'm squeezing my titties for you, honey, can you shoot on them from there? And on my face...if I open my mouth, stick out my tongue, will I get to taste you? You gonna get jizz in my eye? The lady needs you to nut hard, baby. The lady wants a hot, sticky load..."

Jason lost it. No sexy repartee, no witty comebacks, he was just a thrusting, fucking animal, grunting desperately for his long-delayed release. Kristin was such a bitch for making him into this, and he was going to show his appreciation.

He grunted "UH!" and began spurting cum on Kristin's lovely, gyrating body.

His first blast was a thick, gooey rope that ended just south of her sternum. Then a second spurt arced through the air and landed with an audible splat on Kristin's face, her mouth open in surprise, his jism streaked from cheek to chin, painting a thick white line against the red smeared there. A third blast almost missed her completely, most of it landing on the pillow behind her head, but a few drops fell into her hair. The last big blast was a messy one, spraying globs of cum that ranged from the underside of her chin to her breasts to her already slimy belly.

"Fuck, baby," Jason said. His thrusting had ceased, and a steady trickle of cum oozed from the tip of his cock to pool on Kristin's stomach. "You're so good to me."

"Turnabout's fair play, honey," Kristin said, scooping jism off her breasts with her fingers and then licking her fingers clean. "mmm, I think I'm still coming."

Jason's cock, still trapped between her thighs, was pressed against her slit. She squeezed her thighs together and he felt her pussy quiver once more. Kristen sighed, smiling.

"You're forgiven, by the way," she said. "And then some."

"That's a relief," Jason said. He exhaled. Kristin giggled and released his spent, but still-erect, cock from her thighs. He set her ass back down on the bed and straddled her belly. Her tummy was so slippery against his balls that the sensation caused his cock to twitch again, but after this session he was going to have to wait a bit before he could even think about coming again.

"Um," he said, "you got a little something..." and nodded at the top of her head.

She leaned up on her elbows and fixed him with a glare. "Did you get come in my hair, you bastard?" Jason shrugged.

"Bad cock!" She said, and playfully smacked his cock with the flat of her hand. Like before, Jason both winced and welcomed it, the pain and pleasure getting all mixed up again.

He leaned in and kissed her mouth deeply, tasting the come he had so recently sprayed her with, and then lay down beside her on the bed.

They lay side by side, fingers entwined, exhausted and catching their breath, letting the sweat evaporate from their skin. The room smelled strongly of sex to Jason, and if he could notice the scent that he was part of, it must have smelled like a damn whorehouse. Fortunately, Kristin's roommate was out for the afternoon.

"We should do this every day," Kristin said.

"If we did this every day, we'd kill each other," Jason said. "Exhaustion, or heart attack. But what a way to go."

"Lucky for you I'm training to be a nurse," Kristin said. And after that, they had drifted off to sleep in the waning light of afternoon.

That had been almost two weeks ago, and besides a brief lunch this past Monday, he hadn't seen her since. He hoped they were still on, because aside from the fact that he liked her (even when she was being a stubborn crazy-jealous butthead), she was the most fantastic lay he'd ever had.

As his reverie wound down, Jason became aware that he was now walking about town with a full-on erection that was visible through his jeans.

What the hell?, he thought, it's 1 in the morning and I'm sporting a woodie that won't quit, in full view of the denizens of–

His thoughts stopped short, as he suddenly realized that he had no idea where he was. The memory of fucking Kristin had been unusually vivid, so immersive that he'd let his feet do the thinking. But instead of continuing down Airport to his neighborhood, he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Jason had veered off to the East Side, also known as the bad part of town.

Bad was relative, of course. Although the locals referred to it as "the hood" it wasn't like an inner-city 'hood. The property values were lower than the more affluent parts of town, and the houses were a little older, a bit more run-down, a lot of chain link fences instead of wood, but it wasn't really that bad.

A few years back, Jason had shacked up with a couple of buddies in a rented East Side house, and it was alright. There were stories about drug dealers selling meth from astride their bicycles, and the occasional surprise gunshot when you least expected it, but for the most part the folks were nice if you took the trouble to get to know them. He'd caught more grief from his unreliable housemates than he had from the neighbors.

Nonetheless, it was the wee hours of the morning now, and he was lost. He hadn't spotted a street sign yet, and his hard-on was being stubborn and wouldn't subside. In fact, just the motion of walking, with the way his penis was snugged between his jeans and his thigh, was making it worse.

Or was it something else? He had a feeling...

There was something in his head. Like a memory of the memory he had just relived on his way here. It was almost as if someone else was listening in.

But that was crazy. There wasn't a soul around.

Stranger still, even though Jason didn't know where he was, he was still walking like he had a purpose. This didn't feel like aimless wandering. His feet were taking him somewhere. No, that wasn't quite right. He felt atugging, one that he couldn't acknowledge on a conscious level, but a feeling to which his legs responded, leading him through this unfamiliar neighborhood to get there.

And the most curious part was that he wasn't worried.

He should be terrified. Maybe he was going crazy, and this was how it started. Because this was clearly a bad plan, but he didn't seem capable of doing the smart thing and trying to head back the way he came. Find Airport, stumble home, and chalk the whole thing up to getting lost in thought. But he didn't. Unconcerned, he let himself be tugged to wherever his feet were taking him.

Ten blocks later, he saw the orange-tinged sodium lights of Dean Keaton Road. He'd traversed the width of entire city, and was now on the outskirts. Why had he done that? He knew where he was now, but he was easily three times as far from his apartment as he'd been when he'd first started out.

Still his feet led him on. Onto the sidewalk, the cars in the steady overnight traffic pushing wind into him as they sped past. He had built up a sheen of oily sweat, a combination of the Texas Summer night air (which wouldn't dip below seventy-five degrees until September at least), and walking at a steady pace for over an hour. Whenever a car sped by, he welcomed the sudden, brief whoosh of breeze.

Andstillhe kept walking.

He approached a cluster of buildings, the kind you only find on the edges of towns. A gas station/convenience store/waffle house whose lights were still on. A burger place next to that, lights off. And a small Super 8 Motel, its giant yellow sign dominating the area with its illumination. His feet were taking him right toward it. Yes, the tugging was definitely coming from there.

The motel was on the same side of the road as Jason, but there was a four-way intersection between him and it with a red light showing. Without even bothering to look for oncoming traffic, Jason crossed the road.

This finally alarmed him. That wasn't like him. He hadn't even taken the small precaution of turning his head to avoid the possibility of a senseless death. But there were no cars, and he reached the other side safely.

Once on the curb, he stopped. Rather, he made a conscious decision to stop, and forced himself to follow through. Something must be wrong with him. Why the hell was he headed to a Super 8 in the middle of nowhere? What was he supposed to do or find when he got there? Had someone put something in his beer at the party? Ludicrous, but it was the only explanation Jason had.

Whatever the reason, he told himself, it had to end now.

"It ends now," Jason repeated aloud. "I'm going home." The light at the intersection was green now. He turned and took a step back the way he came -

Come

Jason stopped.

He hadheard that for sure. Jason looked around, trying to spot the speaker. He or she had to be close by, since he had heard it clearly, and it hadn't been a shout.

Come to think of it, he wasn't sure if it had been a male or female voice. It seemed to be just the word, spoken right to him.

Nobody. Not even a vagrant hanging out under the overpass.

...or maybe he had imagined it. The mind can do strange things. He turned back to the intersection–

Come

You must come

Jason turned back around to face the hotel, and started walking toward it.

He didn't want to. He wanted to do anything but go toward the place, but he couldn't help himself. The voice had told him to, so he obeyed.

He walked among the few cars parked in the yellow-lit parking lot of the hotel, casting long shadows on the concrete. He was headed toward the back of the place, that much he knew. This was a two-story motel, with room doors that opened directly to the outside. No having to go through a lobby to get to your room. Jason's eyes focused now on the room that his feet were taking him to. It was a ground-level room, number 117.

Jason reached the room door and stopped. What now? He stood before the door, pondering. He looked around and saw no one. The room had one window, and although the heavy privacy curtain had been pulled shut, he didn't think the lights were on behind it.

"Okay," Jason muttered. "This was fun, but I really gotta be going now..."

You must come

And then, he knew what to do. He reached a hand into his right front pocket (the motion causing his still-very erect penis to jumble against his thigh) and felt the plastic card there.

He pulled it out and looked at it. It was a room key card. Jason hadn't the faintest clue how it had gotten there.

Before he could stop himself, he inserted the card into the slot on the door and pulled it out again. The door beeped and the light on the lock turned green. As soon as it did, his hand reached out and pulled the handle down to open the door.

A small part of his brain was telling him how inarguably wrong this all was, but it was overridden by the command of the voice.Comeit had said, and Jason found that more than anything he wanted tocome.

He entered the room, which was unlit. The door swung shut, and then he was in total darkness.

"Uh," Jason said to the dark. "Hello. Don't kill me."

A table lamp flicked on, bathing the room in warm light. It was your typical hotel room, as far as Jason could tell. TV, desk, mini-fridge. Bathroom off to the left with the door standing open. In the center of the opposite wall there was a big, neatly made up bed with a couple of fluffy white pillows propped up against the headrest. Next to the bed there was a small bedside table that supported the lamp, and next to that, an ugly paisley-upholstered chair.

But who had turned on the lamp? It couldn't have turned itself on, could it?

"Kill you?" said a husky voice right behind his ear.

Startled, Jason turned around. Standing there with a smile that looked more quizzical than pleased, was Pearl, the leather vest woman from the party.

"That would be such a waste," she said. "Don't you think?"

Pearl stepped toward Jason, who found to his alarm, that he couldn't move. His cock was throbbing now; he could feel it pulsing with the thunderous beating of his heart.

Pearl walked around him in a slow circle, as if inspecting him.

"After all the time and trouble it took to get you here, killing you would be..." she closed her eyes and sniffed deeply of the air around him, "unproductive."

She stood before Jason and put her hands on his jaw, turning his head slightly left and right, then moved her hands down his chest with deliberate slowness.

Everything about this felt wrong to Jason. Well, almost everything. His body responded to this alluring and forward woman, and he found he was eager for her to get on with whatever it was she planned on doing to him.

Her hands were around his waist now, and he could feel her fingers through his jeans, pressing into his buttocks.

"Then, why am I here?" Jason managed to ask.

"Because I wanted you to come," Pearl said. "Ineededyou to come." She suddenly jerked his body toward her, pulling him into her. He could feel weight of her considerable breasts pressing into his chest, her hips against his. Heat radiated from her, but it wasn't like normal human body heat; she was like a furnace.

"I still need you to come," she in a breathy voice, very different from the affected voice she had used at the party. One of her hands slipped down his thigh and gripped his hammering erection through his jeans.

"Don't you want tocome?" Pearl said, she said her mouth right next to his ear, her voice barely a whisper.

Jason moaned with pleasure at her touch. "Yes," he said softly. He very much wanted tocome.

End Part 1