Not Nice

"You know, there is a hotel across the parking lot. It's insanely cheap in the summer. What do you say we get out of here?"

She wanted to. She could list all the reasons she wanted to. He was tall, considerate, had a nice smile, and a sharp teasing sense of humor. He had a somewhat messy full head of hair. He was fucking smart, he could talk about anything, even when she tried to get esoteric he had something to say about everything. More importantly, he had something to ask about everything and when he asked her what he thought he listened. Even if he was just pretending to listen he did it well. He made her feel good. He was a considerate lover. His seduction had been firm but not overwhelming and when she had given in and followed him back to her house he touched where he should. He took his time. She seldom orgasmed through intercourse alone but he had her so worked up by the time they got to the main course she found herself rolling in sexual satisfaction. True, she was married but she hadn't been in love with him for years. Really she had a thousand reasons to say yes but she wasn't comfortable discussing any of them. "I don't think so." She answered him.

He was still smiling but there was sadness in his eyes.

"I like you, Daniel, I like you a lot, but this isn't good. It was nice last time. I think we should just leave it like that."

"Nice." He said. He looked out the window. His smile faded. "I get that a lot. I understand."

"Nice is good. I just. I am not in a place where I can appreciate nice."

It had been a beautiful warm spring morning but just as he turned away from the window to look at her again the whole restaurant darkened. Laura was forced to look out the window by the change in the light. Across the parking lot the palm trees were shaking in a stiff wind and the regular trees, their leaves catching even more of it bent and twisted. The first raindrops hit the window with a slapping sound and traced long trails to the ground.

"I'm not nice. You know that, right?" he said quietly. When she looked back at him the smile was gone. His lips formed a firm flat line, cold and emotionless. In his eyes there was intent and she couldn't help but read it as malevolent.

"Danny." She said quietly.

He pulled cash from his wallet. Overestimating the cost of their lunch he tossed several bills onto the table. She stood quietly and gathered her bag. She was, to tell the truth, disappointed. Somewhere deep inside of her she had wanted him to work the same magic he had with his initial seduction. She didn't want to go back to work she just needed to. It was for the best but she didn't like it.

Quietly they walked from the restaurant. He moved silently behind her, so silently she had to check over his shoulder to see that he was still there. They paused for a second under the awning. "It was a bad day for a white blouse." She muttered more or less to herself. "We can stay friends though, you know. It would suck to lose my only friend in the office." She said to him. He didn't respond. She waited as the seconds ticked away the awkwardness rising in each one. With a sigh she darted out into the rain towards her van. She couldn't run in her heels but she walked quickly. Her only thought was that he was gone and it touched her with equal parts remorse and relief. She didn't expect him to be there, right behind her when she reached her van. She reached into her purse to pull out her keys. He probably wanted to kiss her goodbye. She would kiss him she figured but quickly, the rain her excuse to duck into her car quickly.

The speed with whish he seized her bag and ripped it off her shoulder surprised her. She wasn't ready for it and so he made easy work of the snatch.

"Danny." She said, growing ever more wet. The rain was relentless.

"I'm not nice." He said. He was standing as tall as ever. She was tall herself, a solid six-foot in these shoes, and still he stood over her imperiously.

"Danny." She said again more firmly. She was not enjoying this. Another minute or two and she would have to go home before going back to the office.

"I fuck married women. There is nothing nice about that. I am not a nice boss. Ask the fucks that work for me. Ask my daughter, I am not a nice dad, but that is probably good, she is being a bit of a rebel right now. I drink too much. I smoke too much. I don't see how you are getting this 'nice,' thing you want to throw at me."

"Dan..." she started. He didn't let her continue. In a slow deliberate motion he turned the both of them. It was like dancing except that he did it with his hand on her throat. He wasn't squeezing or anything, his finger was more on her chin than her neck, but it was a powerful gesture just the same and she moved with him because how could she not.

"And you, you found it nice? Suggestive comments for the last six months? Late night texts about your just fucked cunt aching for satisfaction?" She had never in her life used the word cunt but it was a fair paraphrasing of what she had sent him. "I also don't believe I am the first. Who was the kid from the East team? Or Matt? Shit. I heard Matt left his wife only for you to tell him to fuck off. That, love...That was not nice."

The proper response would be to tell him to fuck off. She couldn't get the words out though. She shivered. She couldn't tell from what though.

"You are, to be plain, one of the filthiest little sluts I've ever known. Telling me it was nice is not the end of this."

"Give me my purse." She said flatly.

"Suck my cock." He said as calmly and coolly as the devil himself.

"My purse. Please. It is getting ruined."

He surprised her. He handed it over to her. She reached inside of it without looking away from him. She wasn't sure she could look away from him. From the inside pocket she pulled her keys. She clicked the button and the car beeped. It was a difficult move to make but she stepped to her side and opened the car door without breaking her stare. She moved her bag from one hand to the other and sat it on the drivers seat then, for no other reason than that he was right closed the door behind her.

"Here?" she asked.

"Yes."

She looked over each shoulder. The street was a good distance away. The only two hotel windows she could see showed only pulled draped and they were behind the restaurant on the far side of the large windows they had eaten beside. A puddle had formed where she stood but she wasn't about to complain. She didn't think it had been more than a moment but clearly she had tried his patience. His hand moved to her chest. Her top was soaked, as was the white bra she had worn and looking down at his hand her nipples were plainly visible. He took advantage and took hold of one. His grip was firm, brutal almost and she gasped.

"Suck it." He said quietly. She barely heard him through the storm but she barely was good enough. He didn't release her as she kneeled down and as her tit pulled free the pain shot through her chest like lightning and struck specifically at the little nub between her legs. She made short work of unzipping his pants. His cock was hard and she was able to tug it free of his boxers. On her knees, in an inch of mud and grime she took him into her mouth.

The rain pelted her face as she looked up at him. Her eyes burned as her foundation, powder and eyeliner were washed away. Still, she focused on his eyes as she slid his dick in and out of her lips.

When finally he began to grunt and his head rolled backwards she gripped his balls and forced his cock into her throat. He was right. She was a filthy slut, she was a whore. This wasn't the first man she had sucked off in a parking lot. She had skills, she had techniques and she brought them all to bear to force his dick to give her what she wanted.

On the rare occasions she performed this act on her husband, she only began after placing a towel, tissue or napkin close at hand.

There was no towel to be had in the parking lot. As she worked his dick with the back of his mouth she swallowed what she could. His cum came at her in waves. It spilled out of her lips onto her chin and dripped along with the falling rain onto her shirt. She gagged and swallowed and pressed her eyes closed sure that was the only thing keeping the thick salty sludge from spilling out as tears onto her cheek.

When she thought he was done he gripped her hair, a whole messy handful was gathered up in a wad and he pulled her to him, thrusting his hips forward.

So few men have the guts to fuck her face. She took it. She released her grip of his cock and grabbed his ass and he pushed and fucked and came down her throat.

When he finally released her she collapsed to all fours in the greasy slimy sludge between her van and a strangers pickup. She emptied her stomach into the puddle and then rose, the filthy mess of a whore that she was.

"Here." He said, passing her a card key. "It's number 21, up those steps. I'll get us something to drink." He walked away from her casually.

"Get beer." She said. She took a moment to pull her bag out of her car. On the walkway she removed her ruined shoes. She had liked those shoes. In the room she removed her clothing and rinsed and spit repeated in the sink. A brief look in the mirror revealed she looked as bad as she suspected. She didn't touch it though. It was perfect. She didn't grab a towel either. There was something right about being cold and wet. She collapsed into the middle of the bed and waited.

She was posed very nicely for him in her best heroin chic pout. It didn't matter. She had the key. He knocked just about the time she got worried. She went to the door. She could have checked to make sure it was him but it was better this way. Naked head to toe she opened the door all the way. Luckily he stood there looking at her, a brown paper sack in his arm.

"Jesus, you're a wreck." He said.

"Nice to see you too." She said turning her back on him.

"What?"

"I said... Nice to see you too." She sneered.

"Come here."

"Close the door."

"Come the fuck here."

She was learning the game. She hated it. It was perfect she went to him. Without her heels he was even scarier.

"Turn around." She turned.

"Bend the fuck over."

"Here?"

"Yes."

She did. She couldn't place her hands fully on the floor. Yoga was helping but not quite enough. She would think back on it later and the surprise of it all. She heard it rather than felt it. He sat the bag on the floor by her feet and when his hand fell on her ass the slap filled the room.

The second one she felt, the slap was just as loud.

Now what did you say.

"Nice..." was all she got out. His hand fell hard. Her husband had spanked her, not often, usually just when fucking her from behind.

"Say it again."

She wondered if he knew she smiled.

"Nice." She said. Through the door she could see the rain still falling. It was fucking weird for it to rain in May.

His hand struck lower, closer to where her fat ass curved into her thighs, that's how she thought about it. It was worse, other things were closer, but it was better too.

"Go on. Before someone calls someone." The door slammed behind her. She moved to the bed. She didn't get to assume the full pose but came close pulling her legs up beneath her ass. It felt warm where he had hit her.

"Want a beer?" he asked her.

She couldn't help herself really. She smiled when she said it. "That would be nice."

"Crist," he just shook his head. "Really?"

"You're so touchy." She taunted him.

"It seems you would figure it out by now."

"I get it. You aren't nice." She took a long swallow.

"That's two."

"What? I said you're not nice."

"Three."

"It's just that one word? Nice?"

"Four."

She finished her beer, leaned back on an elbow, and spread her legs.

"Nice." She said again.

"Five."

"How many for you to fuck it? Huh? Gee... That would be nice."

"I'm so sorry, love. Rules are rules." He said. He genuinely sounded sorry. She watched him undo his belt and pull it slowly out of his wet slacks.

"That might be a bit much." She said. The grin had slipped off her lips.

"We are at six."

"I told you. How many to fuck it? Eight? Eight is a good number?"

He took off his shirt without speaking and folded his thick black belt over onto itself. Reflexively she moved back on the bed.

"Ten is a good ass fucking, don't you think? Ten?"

He stepped forward.

"Over."

She rolled over and stuck her ass in the air. She moved her finger between her thighs. She dipped it just to the knuckle into her pussy. It was a mess, she was only a day or so away and despite the building fear she had been pretty worked up for the last hours. She circled her asshole. Lube would be better. An ass fucking now would hurt.

"Move your hand." He said.

"We agreed on ten." She looked over and smiled at him. It was fake this time. He might actually have made his point. "Nice Nice Nice Nice. Now fuck me baby. Please. I need it.

There was still a sound but it was differnet. The slap on her flesh was droned out by the crack of the folded over leather and it hurt. Fuck did it hurt.

"One." He said.

The second one was harder. She gasped.

"Two."

The third one he must have held back, or maybe hit a spot already going numb.

"Three."

It fell again. "Ouch!"

Again "Fuck!"

And again. "Jesus."

"Six" he said.

"Don't." she answered. She began to cry.

"Seven."

"Eight"

He swung lower and caught a piece of her thigh and shot through her like an explosion. She fell forward collapsing onto her belly.

"Up." he said. She was crying now. Not just tears but the sort of pulsing and gasping that marked that it was genuine. She forced herself backwards until her ass was high enough to please him.

"Nine."

The last one fell just as hard as any.

"Good girl. Did we learn anything?"

She didn't respond.

When the liquid first hit her ass she thought he was pissing on her. A girl had her limits. It was cold though - just the end of his beer. When it stopped she heard the rustle of the paper sack and then the pop of the can. She didn't move she just took long slow breaths and tried to focus on the burn in her ass. Focus on the pain, she thought to herself. It dulls it. He walked away for a moment. When he returned she felt a cold glob hit her burning ass and then his hand moving delicately over her wounds. Surely, she thought, it would bruise. How was she going to hide that?

"This isn't optimal. I am a little sorry about that." He spoke softly. "I really expected this to go differently. I mean, not that I'm not enjoying myself but the last time. Well. I really liked it."

She had no response. She had too.

"I mean, I get it. You have one at home. I've met him, remember? I sort of thought he was asshole. No. It was worse than that, he was a complete asshole." He applied another glop of lotion. It burned a little but still soothed. "I suppose you get made love to all the time. You bring that out in a guy. I mean I have fallen in love with you. You are the sweet motherly type who bakes cookies, the smart sarcastic working girl, and on top of all that, more or less a complete slut. What guy doesn't fall in love with you? My guess is you are just spoiled."

She heard the sputtering fart sound of him nearing the end of the lotion. She thought to mention she had a little tube of hand lotion in her purse but her breathing was still rough, her stomach still caused her to gasp from time to time uncontrollably, she wasn't prepared to talk to him.

It was cold and it was specific and it was no longer on the burning flesh of her cheeks. His finger moved in little circles around her asshole. She gasped.

"Oh, sorry. Yeah. You didn't forget you begged me for this did you. I mean, I actually have never done this before. You begged though."

She had a reply but the sudden and complete insertion of his finger robbed from her every thought as well as the breath necessary to express them. He slid his finger inside of her several more times and then he pulled it free. She felt him rise off the end of the mattress. To prepare herself she moved her hands forward on the cheap bedspread. She pressed her face into the mattress.

There was the sound of a zipper and then the thump of pants with full pockets hitting the floor. She listened to the lotion being emptied and then steadied herself.

He was too wide. He couldn't get it in. She but down on a fold of the bedspread. He pressed on.

He moved so slowly getting himself into her and then equally slowly pulling out of her.

He did it again the same way. He moved slowly pushing his fat cock into her. Once he hit bottom he held it there, gripping her thighs. She clenched. He moaned. He pulled it out of her a second time.

She rolled her head to the side. She hadn't noticed it before. On the wall sat a cheap dresser. Above the dresser was a mirror. She looked into her own eyes, messy raccoon face and all. She looked at how her ass was in the air. Most importantly she looked at him. In her mind she had pictured that maniacal look his face had twisted into earlier. It wasn't there though. He looked sad, remorseful. This, she thought, was not his game. Poor thing.

"Are you even inside me? I thought you were going to fuck my ass." She said.

It was furious. It was fast and rough and she squealed. He grunted with each thrust and she cried and begged for it. "Oh Fuck." She chanted. "Fuck... Fuck... Fuck..." each time he plunged his dick into her.

He slipped out. She almost came with the sensation of her stuffed ass being suddenly emptied. He pushed her forward and spread her legs and this time mounted her, her complete body laid flat beneath the immensity of him. Not that she needed it but he gripped her wrists. Pinned down, he fucked her. He fucked her silly. By the time he was done and had pulled off of her she had cum and a mixture of sobbing and giggling spilled uncontrollably out of her mouth.

He opened another beer and collapsed onto his back.

Despite wanting desperately to roll over and curl up against his chest she didn't move. She laid motionless catching her breath and seeking any some sense of self-control that simply wouldn't come.

"Are you awake?" he said softly. No, it wasn't softly she thought, it was quietly. There was still resolution in his voice. She hadn't moved.

"What time is it?"

"You need to go get the soap and a very wet towel," he said.

"What time is it, I should go."

"Soap and towel." She didn't move and he let his sentence just hang there. "My cock smells like shit and cum. I can't fuck you like this." He said.

"What time..."

"Soap. Towel."

She rolled out of the bed and went to the bathroom. She needed to pee anyway. At the sink she soaked a hand towel in warm water and then opened the little plastic wrap that held the ubiquitous bar of soap. She contemplated for a second washing her face. Deciding against it she removed the idiot smile that had curled her lips and returned to him.

She worked diligently to clean his cock. He was a handsome man. She hadn't really gotten to see him the last time. There was a light dusting of gray hair in his chest but he was older, he wasn't fifty but he was close. He had a bit of a belly but laying on his back it disappeared. His legs were long and thin. For just a moment she thought of the fat slob she would go to bed beside later and spurred her only to more thoroughly clean his cock.

She stole a glance at his face. He simply looked at her. His expression was emotionless.

Laura wanted a reaction. Wasn't that what it was always about? She wanted a reaction - any reaction. To stir one from her new lover she put his cock in his mouth. He tasted of soap. She worked up a good drool and slid her mouth over him repeatedly as he swelled filling her. She had intended to finish her work but he stopped her.