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Revelations And ResolutionsChapter 3 free porn video
Name: Jason Tillman
Approximate Date Of The Event: November, Six Years Ago, approximately two months after Mr. Washing Machine
Details: I met Tillman in an elevator. When I entered the elevator, he was the only occupant. He looked like he was in his early fifties, very distinguished in his dark, three-piece suit, like a lawyer or a business mogul. I smiled at him when I entered, and he returned my smile. The elevator cab lurched down and suddenly stopped as all the lights went out. I found out later there was a power outage in the area.
I was frightened at first, but the man calmed me with assurances that someone would soon come to our rescue. He introduced himself. I told him my name, and we chatted in the dark. That's when I felt his hand on my butt. I pushed it away and told him I was happily married. He laughed. I remember it sounded evil to me. I should have listened to my intuition.
"You don't remember me, do you?" he said.
I told him no.
"You went out with my son years ago. I remember you. I watched him fuck you in our living room."
That's when his last name clicked. I had dated a boy named Barry Tillman when I was sixteen or seventeen.
It was very dark in the elevator. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face, but I could feel Tillman's hot breath at my neck, and suddenly his hands grasped both of my breasts. He pulled me back against him, and I could feel his erection at the small of my back. I'm ashamed to say, the situation excited me. I didn't stop him, and he became bolder, reaching under my skirt and roughly rubbing my pussy over my pantyhose and panties.
He kissed my neck as he continued to fondle me, and then said, "It will be a while. We might as well amuse ourselves until we're rescued."
By now, he had pushed his hand under my hose and down in my panties. His fingers found my already wet cunt and he jabbed a finger inside me. I wasn't that wet yet, so it hurt. I winced, and he seemed to become gentler. His other hand left my breast, and I felt him move it up under my skirt, and he pulled off my hose and panties. I cooperated. By now, I wanted to "amuse" myself, too. I was hot, Scott. The situation fit my preferred scenario of a quick, nasty, never-to-be-repeated fuck perfectly.
But he rushed me. I quickly determined he cared little about me, and he bent me over and shoved his cock into me from the rear, making no attempt to ease it gently inside me. He hurt me, Scott.
"Easy," I told him, but he ignored me, actually laughed that evil laugh again, and I started to wonder if I had allowed something to begin I'd feel sorry for later. Little did I know.
Instead of becoming wetter, I started to dry up. I no longer wanted Tillman and tried to get away from him, but he grabbed my hair with his fist and twisted.
"You're not going anywhere, bitch. Fuck me back! Move your ass, you slut!" he growled.
I was frightened by then, very frightened. I even feared for my life. I reasoned he would come soon, and it would be over and done. Hah!
He came as I predicted, but he didn't stop. He pulled my hair and forced me to my knees facing him.
"Clean my cock with your mouth, cunt," he shouted forcefully.
When I didn't perform on his command, he jerked my face toward him. His half-hard, slimy cock slid along my cheek. "Clean it, bitch," he yelled again, and his hand twisted in my hair. I cried out in pain, and he grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed as hard as he could. My neck was bruised for a week.
I became frightened for my life, Scott, so I cleaned his filthy cock with my mouth, reasoning the sooner I finished the sooner the nightmare would end, but with my mouth around him, he started to get hard again. His hips began jerking, thrusting in and out of my mouth. He had a large cock and I couldn't take it all, but he didn't care. I gagged, and he laughed.
"Swallow it, slut," he ordered and jammed his cock into my mouth to the hilt.
God, that hurt. I had difficulty swallowing for a week. He kept fucking my mouth, and suddenly his cock swelled up a little and he spurted his come into my mouth. I didn't have a chance to swallow, and it started to run out my nose. I gagged and tried to pull away. I couldn't breathe, but he didn't care. He jerked my hair and pulled me tightly to him.
That's when I bit him. I didn't care if he killed me anymore. The son-of-a-bitch had hurt me and humiliated me, and he was smothering me, so I bit down on his filthy cock as hard as I could. He screamed and slapped me, sending me flying across the elevator floor. I curled up in the corner and wept while he cursed me.
"You cunt! You made me bleed!"
"Good," I said between sobs. "I hope the slimy fucker falls off!"
That's when he kicked me. I found out later he cracked two of my ribs. Gratefully the pain from the kick was too much for my body to take, and I passed out. When I came to, the lights in the elevator had come back on, and I could hear sounds through the door. Tillman stood across the elevator from me looking like he could kill.
"Cunt!"
"Fuck you," I said. Brilliant, huh? I put my underwear in my purse just as the elevator doors opened. I rushed away, happy to get away from the violent man with my life, swearing I'd never let another man do what Tillman did to me. You noticed the black eye Tillman gave me when hit me but accepted my lame excuse for its cause, and I was able to hide my broken ribs from you by faking flu symptoms and hiding out in bed for a week.
The episode shamed me, Scott, and I know what you're going to say. You'll ask me how I could consider another quick, nasty, impromptu fuck with another man ever again. Well, I didn't, not for a year, and I'll tell you about that time while we are in bed tonight with you inside me.
Please forgive me. I love you with all my heart.
Scott looked down through tear-ladened eyes. He was not erect, thank God. He was angry, though. He wanted to find Tillman and beat him within an inch of his life. He raped her! He violated her, beat her and raped her, and she believes she was at fault.
He walked from the office and found Claire curled up in the fetal position on the sofa. He sat and took her in his arms.
"I'm so sorry, Claire. And I don't forgive you because there is nothing to forgive."
I love him so much, Claire thought as she watched her husband read a goodnight story to their daughter. He was such a good father, and she couldn't imagine finding a better husband. She hoped beyond hope they could fashion a solution to their problem and keep their marriage together.
He'd been furious about Jason Tillman after he had read the account of what the man did to her, so angry she feared he might do something foolish, so she had made him promise to back off and leave it alone. Once he'd calmed down, he asked if there were further incidents similar to Tillman's.
"One," she had said, "although not nearly as bad. Tillman was the worst."
"Write it down," Scott said. "I don't want to listen to you tell it to me while I'm inside you. I'd be like the guy with the foot-long cock. I'd go soft like a blowout and wouldn't be able to get it up for a year."
She laughed, and hurried to his office. When she finished, he read the file. This time, she had stayed in the room with him.
He turned to her and said, "I can't for the life of me understand why some men get off inflicting pain. I guess some women enjoy it, or it wouldn't be so prevalent. I'm glad you're not one of them. Come here." He had held his arms out to her, and she had happily moved into them.
As Claire listened to the story Scott was reading to Katy, she knew he was about finished. She had read the same story to her daughter at least a dozen times - it was one of Katy's favorites - so she moved down the hall toward the master bedroom. It was time to tell her husband about the third time, and curiously she looked forward to relating the events to him. To her mind, it was her hottest quick, nasty fuck, and she believed the details would turn Scott on big time.
Ten minutes later when he entered the bedroom, Claire was lying on the bed masturbating. Thinking about number three excited her, and she couldn't resist touching herself.
"Sexy," Scott said. "I love the new you."
"Good, because it's the real me."
He removed his shirt. "I'll brush my teeth and get ready for bed. I'll be with you in a minute."
"Hurry," she said. As she waited, she began to have doubts. The incident turned her on, but perhaps Scott would consider it a bit bizarre.
He reentered the bedroom naked and half-hard and cuddled up next to her. Taking her into his arms, he kissed her passionately. "Claire I think you're looking forward to telling me about number three, or am I wrong?"
"You're not wrong. It was my favorite. If ever there was a time I might have considered repeating one of my flings, this would be the one, but I didn't. To be honest, it happened out of town, or I might have arranged a repeat. It was quick and nasty and hot and fun, Scott. Are you hard?"
"Yes."
"Slide into me. I want to get started."
"Damn, you are excited! You're really wet."
She giggled. "I know. Ah! You feel so nice inside me. Be careful with my clit, though. I don't want to come until I finish telling you the details. Okay?"
"You've got it, baby. Go ahead."
"Well, as you know, I'd sworn off my impromptu flings after Tillman. He scared me, Scott. I was tempted a couple of times, but I didn't feel certain the man in question wouldn't be like Tillman, so I backed away every time. Number three happened a year and a month after Tillman. I was still teaching then, and a group of teachers planned a trip during the Christmas break to Phoenix, Arizona to get out of the cold country for a few days. Husbands and wives were invited. We signed up for it. Remember?"
"Yes, but I had to beg off because of business pressures. I encouraged you to go without me. It was only for an extra-long weekend if I remember correctly. You flew out of here on Thursday morning to return late Monday night. As it turned out, I was able to get away on Saturday and caught a flight that put me in Phoenix in time for us to join the group for dinner, go out on the town that night and spend the next day lazing about in the sun, trying desperately to acquire bragging rights for a tan. I remember Sunday night in particular. You turned me everywhere but loose, and I loved it. I take it the event in question happened before my arrival late Saturday afternoon."
She chuckled. "Lucky guess. Yes it took place on Saturday. Do you remember the life guard at the pool?"
"Yes! He was particularly attentive to you, flirted a little, in fact. Is he the one?"
"Sort of."
"Sort of? What does sort of mean?"
"All in good time, Scott. Patience. Anyway, I got a jump on you acquiring a tan. Remember?"
"Yes, I commented how sexy your tan lines were Saturday night when we dressed for dinner. You made me so excited we nearly didn't join the group."
"Yeah, I remember. Let me back up a day. Friday morning I found a bikini in the gift shop. I know you remember the bikini."
"Yeah."
"Careful with my clit, Scott. Damn, I'm hot. Friday afternoon I went down by the pool to lie out in the sun in my new bikini. For some reason, I was the only one at the pool at the time. It was warm, but not hot, and the pool shimmered. God, it was nice to relax. If you had been with me, it would have been perfect. After about an hour, I slipped into the pool to cool off, and when I pulled myself out, Dale was standing waiting for me with a towel."
"Is Dale the lifeguard?"
"Yes. Let me tell this my way, Scott. Dale handed me the towel and our eyes met. Instant lust. God, he was a hunk. About eighteen years old, maybe a little older, and ripped. A real hard-body, as they call them in sunny California. He stood and talked to me as I dried myself off, and if male eyes ever undressed me, his did. And I had an affect on him. His tight trunks became a little tighter. I stretched out on the lounge and asked him to put sunscreen on me. I loved his hands on me, and I was getting wet. I've had a professional massage before, and he was their equal, so I commented on his talented hands. He told me he was a certified massage therapist, and I asked him what he charged. He told me, and I asked where I would need to go for his services. He informed me that he had the next day off at the pool and could come to my room. I hesitated, and he seemed to sense I was nervous about him coming to my room.
"'Claire', he said, 'I'm a professional. Nothing will happen in your room except a massage unless you want something to happen.' I believed him, Scott. He was so unlike Tillman. He reminded me a little of Mr. Washing Machine, except he wasn't as dumb as a post, so I made arrangements for a massage in my room the following morning at 10:00 AM. I didn't know if I wanted a fling, but I believed if I didn't, Dale wouldn't force himself on me."
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