3 PM. Hotel lot. Highway nightmare done. Left-lane hogs at 110 km/h. Roadworks. Panic brakes for radars. Wiped out.
Country road chills me. October sun kisses face. Forest explodes in reds, golds, browns. Dry leaves carpet paths. No rain this summer.
The Mutation
Lawyer by day. Courtroom killer. But the Secret Heroine claws free. Time to run it off.
Budget motel. Indie rooms. Keycard jams. Door wobbles. Shitty view. Grab shorts. Sneakers. Five klicks to woods.
Parking: sparse. Van. Two cars. Far apart. I slot in. Jog starts. Paths split. Sun dapples. Ideal air.
Spot him. 60s. Stocky. Jeans. Shirt. Smirks as I fly by.
Deeper. Tracksuit guy. 40s. Bald. Beige rag with black streaks. Off-trail. Not hikers.
Boom. Cruising zone. Vehicles match. Heart thumps. Straight chick. Fucked women only. But power surges. Owning cock. Controlling men. Wet already.
Push pace. Loop lefts. Back to old guy. Ten meters out. Veer right. Slow stroll. Bait set.
He bites. Follows. Adrenaline floods. Breath ragged. Fear spikes. Thrill wins. Too far? Accelerate. He peels off.
Rush fades to frustration. Want more.
Tracksuit ahead. Slow. Walk straight at him. Side-eye. Pass blank. Hear stop. Footsteps crunch leaves. Fifteen meters back.
Fifty meters. Veer right. He tails. Pulse races. Love it.
Dead end. Steep slope. My trap snaps.
“Hi.”
“Hello,” I growl. Lock eyes.
“What you hunting?”
Step in. Hand clamps crotch. Grip thickening cock. “This. But I own it now. Hotel. Five klicks. Follow or bust.”
He freezes. Strokes harden him. Fabric strains. Thumb teases head.
Waistband down. Cock leaps. Hot. Rigid. Seven inches. Gland throbs.
“Good size. Hotel. Now.”
Nods. Eyes hungry. Mask shatters. Mutation hits. Prowl on.
Jog out. Ignore third loner. Drive shaky. Miss turns twice. Park. He waits. Plastic bag clutched.
Stairs. Room end. Door cracks. He slips in. Locks.
Banal chat. Room scan. Calm voice. Knows I’m green. But I seize reins.
Push back. Ass hits bed. Hands on shoulders. Down he goes.
“Pants off.”
Tracksuit drops. Cock sways. Balls smooth-shaved.
Fingers wrap shaft. Stroke firm. Heat pulses. Rigid steel.
The Exploit
Kneel close. Lick tip. Taste salt. Lips engulf. Suck sloppy first. Then deep. Throat claims.
Groans. Hips twitch. I pin. Control.
“Strip full.”
Naked. Toned. Shaved body.
My turn. Clothes fly. Breasts bounce. Pussy drips.
Straddle face. Grind clit on tongue. “Eat.” Fingers part lips. He laps. Fingers curl in.
Lift cheeks. Tongue rims ass. Probes ring. Shivers rack me.
Lube finger. Saliva slick. Push in. Twist. “Deeper for me.”
Two fingers. Stretch. I buck.
Pull off. Suck him again. Edge close.
Bag out. Condom. Lube. “Surprise mine. Ass time. My rules.”
Roll him prone. Legs spread slight. Lube his tip heavy.
No. I direct. “Back. Legs up.”
Missionary ass. Guide cock. Slow press. Ring fights. Yields. Gland pops.
Breathe fire. Pain bites. Pleasure floods. Sink deeper. Inch raid.
Full hilt. Balls slap. “Move. Slow.”
He obeys. Short pumps. Build long strokes. I clench. Command rhythm.
“Flat now. Belly down.”
Pull out. Void aches. Flat. Legs tight. He mounts. Legs pin mine. Weight crushes. Cock spears ass deep. One thrust. Bliss.
Pubis grinds cheeks. Captive. But I own pace. Hips buck back. Frottage on sheets milks my clit.
Thrusts pound. I dictate. “Harder. Hold.”
Orgasm rips. Scream raw. Walls milk. Cum gushes.
He tenses. Roars. Fills rubber.
Ten minutes pant. Cock slips free. Clean. Dress.
“Number?”
“No. First power rush. Last for you.”
Two years gone. Secret burns hot. Regret no digits? Nah. Stronger now. Unbreakable.