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Misty the Slut - Part 1

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Author: Keiko Alvarez
Published: 25-Aug-08 Revised/Updated 26-Aug-08
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Misty has fantasies that her husband has no choice but to help her fulfill them.

* * * * * * *

Misty Kelly stared out the bedroom window, pleased to see slivers of sunlight shining through the trees. Five consecutive days of rain had interrupted her running routine, so today she planned to go all out. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she ambled out the back door to judge the weather.

"Great," she mumbled. The sun burning off the moisture created a one hundred percent humidity day and, with the temperature already pushing ninety, running would be a bitch. Misty chose the smallest, least bulky outfit she could find - a pair of blue boy shorts and a white running bra. The running bra would no doubt turn transparent when she started to sweat but, no matter, she was going to take the old ranch trail. She sighed at the thought - the ranch trail was basically two sets of ruts formed by years of trucks rolling through them, but at least she could run on the strip of grass between them. Her other trail, the one she liked, was probably a slog of mud.

After a two minute stretch, she headed out her front door at full speed. The sun rose higher, it seemed, with every step, as did the temperature. Misty hated this part of the run, especially in the heat. One mile of pavement before she reached the trail was bad enough, but the occasional car and the ogling she received were worse. Still, she had to run to keep in shape.

She was close to the trail when a truck passed by, slowing to a stop about a hundred yards in front of her and backing up. A scruffy young man wearing a cowboy hat stuck his head out and hooted, "Hey, baby! Lookin' good!"

Misty averted his eyes and kept running. It was when she reached the trail that she heard the truck behind her. She turned and tried to stare the driver down, but he crept forward. A cretin in the passenger seat smiled an unkind smile and ran his hand across his mouth.

Misty spun around, dug in her heels, and started to sprint. She could hear the truck bounding in the ruts, splashing up mud. All she had to do, she knew, was make it to the creek, run across it, and scramble up the opposite bank. No way would the assholes behind her be able to catch her then.

The driver of the truck honked whenever he got close, making her jump. The idiots following her yelled and laughed, making her heart pound. She began to panic. Fun was fun, but this situation was turning serious. She bolted for the creek and skid to a stop.

The creek had swollen because of the rain, and it was at least five feet high and boiling. Debris raced along with the raging water. Misty knew that if she tried to cross it she would die. But she couldn't keep going either. The turnaround point of the trail was a quarry with high stone walls.

She was stuck.

The truck edged closer. She looked around for a weapon-anything. She grabbed a tree branch floating by and stood her ground. The cowboys laughed and stepped out of the truck.

"Easy, baby," the driver said. "No need to fight. We're just gonna have a little fun."

"Fuck you," Misty snarled.

"You know you want it," the passenger said. "I mean, I can see your titties. You must have wanted me to see them, right Why else dress like that. Well, I like your titties. I bet they're fun to suck on."

Misty shook with fear. "Don't. Please don't. Just - just let me by."

"No can do, honey," the driver laughed.

She judged the situation. If she waited for them to get closer, she could make a run past them. She crouched, branch in hand, until they were six feet away, and then she took off.

An arm grabbed her around the waist. A hand covered her mouth. She tried to scream, but her screams were muffled. She kicked wildly at the approaching man, who just laughed at her.

"Pinch her fucking nose," he said.

Suddenly she couldn't breathe. She felt herself going limp. She felt hands at her hips and her shorts being pulled off. She felt her bra lifted up to her neck. Someone said, "nice titties for sure."

She was on the ground with someone between her legs. "Put her shorts in her mouth," a voice said.

Can't breathe!

Pressure at her vagina.


Penetration - hard and deep and rough. The man slammed into her over and over, lifting her ass and forcing his cock in as far as he could.

"Turn over."

God, no!

She was rolling with the man inside her. She was on top of him. His ankles hooked hers, pinning her body against his. Two hands pressed her arms to the ground, and then the pressure built at her anus.

Every time she tried to scream, her shorts went further into her throat, choking her. But the pain was enormous and she had no choice but to scream.

The two men moved in random rhythm, thrusting in and out with abandon, stretching her open. She felt hot liquid pouring into her bowels and them more pouring into her womb. The man sodomizing her rolled onto his back. The man underneath her removed the panties from her mouth. She lifted off him and kneeled on the wet ground.

"Christ, Misty," the man under her said. "These fantasies of yours get crazier and crazier."

"Where's Mike" Misty asked. "I told you I wanted three of you."

"One of his kids was sick and his wife had to go out," the man on his back gulped. "Next time. Come on, let me help you up."

She took his hand and pulled herself up. "Did you like that"

"You know I don't like doing this, honey."

"But I do. It...it pleases me. I...I love you, Doug. Thank you for putting up with me."

"I love you, too," Doug sighed. He stared at his wife, taken with her beauty. She was perfect in every way. In the five years they had been married, her body hadn't changed a bit. Firm, hard even, small breasts topped by large nipples, nipples that seemed to be always in a state of hardness, nipples that were incredibly sensitive. But it was her eyes that fascinated them. He had never seen gray eyes before, not like these. They were hypnotic, drawing him in, making him helpless whenever she asked for anything. But Misty never asked for anything except to live her fantasies once every three full moons. What could he do He had no choice. Those eyes gave him no choice.

Misty lifted her bra over her head and, except for her sneakers, stood in front of the men naked. "Thanks, Ned," she said. "I hope you enjoyed that."

Ned's face turned red and he shuffled his feet. "Yeah, Misty. You know I did. But...but...like Doug said, you're my friend and..."

"A good friend," Misty whispered. "Take us home, okay Doug and I have some communicating to do."

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