Title: Part Time Pervert - Chapter 3 - Author: Anon
Published: Apr 2, 2014 - Contact:
NOTE: This is the third part of the story, you may wish to read Chapter 1 first.
Every day I waited for my cell phone to ring. Mr. Simmons was the only person with the number so I knew that when I heard it, no doubt it would be the perverted old creep.
Who am I kidding I'm just as perverted as he is. . . maybe more. But in a completely different way. Whereas he enjoys putting a man through his paces, degrading, demeaning and humiliating him, I crave to receive that kind of treatment.
That's why when my phone finally did ring, I fumbled excitedly to answer it.
"Yes sir, I am here, " I said.
" Well I want you HERE. Get your ass down here tomorrow night. Nine o'clock. Don't be late. Did you do what I told you to"
"Yes sir. I have the pictures of my wife all ready to bring with me. "
I heard his satisfied chuckle. "Good, sissy boy. I can't wait to check em out. Any pussy shots"
"Oh yes sir. Several. I hope you enjoy them sir. "
"Good." With that he hung up.
All the way, as I was driving to the little town, I couldn't resist rubbing my cock as I kept looking at the envelope in the seat next to me. In it were two dozen pictures of Susan in various stages of undress. I knew Mr. Simmons would have plenty of crude comments about my wife and I couldn't wait to hear them as he used me in every disgusting way he could think of.
His town was only a thirty mile trip and I got there with time to spare. Although I was tempted to be late just to give him the excuse to paddle me with his hairbrush again. It hurt so good.
At last I stepped onto the little porch and knocked on the door.
The man who answered was not Mr. Simmons.
He was roughly the same size, but older, maybe 65 give or take. He was a paunchy guy wearing a work shirt. The sleeves had been cut off carelessly with scissors and were high on his hairy, powerful looking arms, covered with tattoos.
"Surprise, pansy. Don't look so shocked. Come on in. . . your master is waitin for you. "
Oh, jeez. . what was this
The man took me by the arm and pulled me inside. Mr. Simmons was sitting in his usual place in the ratty old chair. He pointed to the floor and I knelt before him. he motioned to the strange man.
"This here is my friend Cecil. Tell him hello. "
"Hello sir, " I mumbled, blushing at being displayed so openly, but thrilled at the same time.
"Cecil knows all about you. But don't get your hopes up. Tell him why, Cecil. "
Cecil said "Cause I don't go for that queer shit. Only females suck this dick. "
"That's right, queer, "said Mr. Simmons. "Cecil is here because I told him you had a pretty bitch for a wife, and that you was bringing some interesting pictures of her. "
Between the two of them they told me how Cecil loved fucking married women and dominating them. They told me he actually had an older woman in Eastport who was on the city council there.
He was blackmailing her for pussy and had been for quite some time. They didn't tell me what he had on her that gave him power over her.
"And her husband is just like you. A fucking first class lick my balls faggot. He can't do shit about whatever Cecil does to his old lady right in front of him. Ain't that a hoot"
Truth be told, it sounded great to me. Cecil said to Mr. Simmons, holding out his hand.
"Lemme see the pictures. I gotta get back to the shop. i'm chopping up a Lincoln that's headed for Mexico later tonight. "
With trembling hands I gave the envelope to Mr. Simmons. He was grinning like a jackass as he opened it. Kneeling on the floor in front of him, I watched as he pulled out my wife's photos and began to look through them. "Damn, Cecil. Look at this" He handed them each to his grubby friend and the two men whistled and drooled as my classy wife was revealed to their lecherous gazes.
They discussed her in no uncertain terms, Cecil saying lewd things about "them nice titties. "
"I'd love to get my hands on them boobies. Squeeze em til the bitch begged"
All kinds of nasty things they would make Susan do for them. I was on fire. I wished that she was here now, being forced to obey both of these crude old geezers. They must have ogled my wife's pictures for a full thirty minutes. I realized they were both familiar with Susan's provocative nude body. Cecil actually sat in a chair, pulled out his prick and jacked off to my wife's images.
Finally he said "Well that was great, but I gotta make tracks. Josh is holdin down the fort at the garage and I got shit to do there. Hang on to them pictures, Earl. I know Josh will want to see em once he hears about nancy here. He'll probably want to stick his big black Peter in sissy boy here too. "
Ohmigod! they intended to keep the pictures. I hadn't planned on that. And Mr. Simmons name was Earl. Not that I would ever be allowed to call him that.
Once Cecil was gone, Mr. Simmons started to concentrate on me.
"What's your wife's name cock sucker"
"Well now I reckon I know what Susan looks like naked as good as you do. I'm gonna enjoy lookin at these shots , you bet I am. I'm sure Cecil will want to borrow them sometime too. Hope he don't get cum all over em. "
He snapped his fingers and motioned me to stand in front of him and take all my clothes off. Once I had, he laughed at my erection. My cock is not tiny, but far from the size of Mr. Simmons. . . or Cecil from what I saw, watching him masturbate with Susan's photos in his free hand. Mr. Simmons had obviously been affected by the pictures too. Wasting no time he ordered me to start sucking him off. And not to stop until he was completely done, which meant with his cum dribbling out of my mouth.
Just the way I liked it.
Slavishly I wrapped my lips around his rigid tool and started to Wetly suck, kiss and lick it. I wanted it to feel good to him. And it must have. He was moaning with pleasure as he interspersed comments like lick it good, suck my balls, fag. . . lick all over my ass. . . kiss the head of my cock like you love it. . . tell me how much you love suckin me off you queer piece of shit. . . ohhh, now suck it harder. . . until he came in my mouth, some spilling to the dirty carpet at his feet. Of course I was made to lick that up as well. I was reveling in my humiliation just as he said "just think of that prim and proper little wife of yours with my prick in HER mouth. I'd make that bitch squirm for sure. "
Neither one of us knew that back home something was happening that would make that vision come true.
At that moment my wife had finished a PTA meeting and was doing a favor for a visiting teacher, Miss Eliot, a black lady who needed a ride back to the ghetto she lived in. Susan was squeamish about driving to that part of town, especially at night, but decided to be a good Samaritan. After she dropped the teacher off at her apartment building, she got turned around and was frantically trying to find her way out of the scary neighborhood. She was distracted and did not see the old black man lurching. drunkenly off the sidewalk and right into her path.
She was not aware of him until she felt the car hit him and heard the loud thump. She screamed as the old drunk fell to the street. She slammed on the brakes , and without thinking of the danger she was putting herself in jumped out of the car and ran to help the man. By now he was struggling to his feet.
"My god! oh I'm so sorry. . . are you alright" The man waved her off and stumbled away from her.
"Fuck. . fuck. . goddam" he mouthed as he staggered down the street. Just then she heard yelling and saw a gang of black boys pointing at her. panic stricken, she jumped into the car and sped off. In the rear view mirror she saw the man still walking down the street, "Thank god, "she said aloud. " He doesn't seem to be badly hurt. " She shivered at what had happened. . . and what COULD have happened if that gang of boys had gotten to her. A white woman alone at night in that part of town. . . . not a good position to be in. Once more she checked the mirror. The old man was continuing to stumble down the street.
What she didn't see was. . . when he lost his balance and fell mightily forward, bashing his head against the curb. . . . . killing him.