Don Tsuris - Twice As Nice Vice

Fawn didn't trust herself to speak. Instead she whirled, tears flooding her eyes again, and ran down the hall to the living room, where she dressed with lightning speed. Eric appeared in the hallway just as she was slipping out the front door, crying soundlessly.

"Fawn!" he shouted. "Fawn, where are you going? Come back, come here, Fawn!"

Through the prisms of her tears she saw him standing there, bronzed and muscular and naked, the long thick ropey tube of his cock swinging between his thighs, the cock she wanted so badly to have buried in her, cramming her and splitting her with joy at that very moment. She shook her head, weeping aloud. "No. No, no, no!" she wept. "Go back to your wife, she wants you! I told you that, I told you. She needs you!"

"Faw-" he said, but she shut the door, and ran down the walk to the street.

Too agitated to wait for a bus, she hailed a passing cab. She sat in the back seat of the cab feeling angry, guilty, ashamed, betrayed, one after the other, weeping in confusion. At the same time she wished the awful flux of emotion would somehow blot out the seething urgency of her body, the hot hungry itchiness of her still-gripping cunt, the endless throbbing of her blood. She was wound tight as a wire, drawn up to a fever-pitch of sexual need, and she didn't know who to blame for it-them or her? She needed violent release, but she didn't know what to do about it. Maybe Kelley would be at home. But that was the last thing she wanted, to get even deeper into the sick network of relationships that were connected to the scene she had just left.

Jeff, she knew, was also a possibility. And she knew he would be willing, he would ask no questions, he would give her what she needed.

But it would not be what she really needed, whatever that was. And she would not be able to keep herself, this time, from making comparisons with Eric, whose rampaging, rearing, piercing, cunt-splitting, assreaming, gargantuan cock was the only thing she wanted to feel inside her, probing and slicing and skewering her into the guilty ecstasies she craved so wantonly.

What's coming over me? she thought. Why won't it go away? I'm right back where I started from, I really am a nympho after all, just seething and boiling with it, when really I should just be so mad at everybody that I wouldn't want to be touched.

She thought briefly of going home and masturbating, but she quickly dismissed that, knowing it was no good, knowing she had already done it, only minutes ago, and it had solved nothing. While she was turning all this over in her head, and trying to suppress or ignore the gushing tumult of her blood and the hot unsatisfied yearnings in her burning pussy, she caught the cab driver glancing at her in the rearview mirror. He stared at her brazenly, eating her with his eyes, promising to deliver anything she might request. He was young, fairly handsome, with broad shoulders and shaggy black hair, and a mouth with a vicious, sarcastic twist. And she suddenly knew that there must be something about her he could smell. In some way she must be advertising herself like a bitch in heat, and that embarrassed her further. Still, she briefly entertained the idea. He was a total stranger, and maybe that was just what she needed at the moment like this, someone she would never see again, someone she had never seen before, who she could take upstairs with her. The guilt, the shame, the betrayal, the humiliation that she felt, maybe they could all be blasted out of her by taking this cab driver with the vicious mouth up to her apartment with her and inviting him to do anything he liked to her. Preferably something sweetly brutal, something tenderly cruel, the way Eric had screwed Danika in the ass. Did that make sense?

She didn't know, but the mere thought made her shiver. She glanced at the cabbie's eyes in the mirror and knew she couldn't go through with it. For one thing, he was too handsome, and the slight hint she gave that she might be interested in him had made his body take on a kind of aggressive magnetism that attracted her so powerfully, she feared that neither of them might be able to settle for the sort of one-shot shipsin-the-night blistering fuck she had in mind. No, she needed someone far more repulsive, someone who would scour her clean of these crazy compulsions, someone who could cleanse her of these consuming guilts entirely by taking her to the very bottom of them and rubbing her face in the foulest dirt, so that she might never have to go back there again.

Still, the way he kept looking at her gave her goose-bumps. His dark bold eyes riveted hers in the mirror for such long periods that she was afraid he might have a wreck. And Fawn herself was aware suddenly that her mouth was half-open, and she had placed the tip of her tongue against the ridge of her upper teeth as she stared back murkily at him.

Her eyes were saying to him, You can fuck me if you want to, and she knew her body was saying it too, it was smoking with invitations that only a stone could have failed to notice.

During the moments when he took his eyes away from hers to watch the traffic, she tried deliberately not to glance up at his name and picture on the cab license that was fastened to the sunvisor. She didn't want to know his name, she wanted him to be totally anonymous.

She also wanted him to make the first advance. She was willing to provoke him as much as possible, and she knew by now, as the cab drew closer and closer to her apartment, that she would not let him get away without making it plain to him what she wanted; but she didn't want to be explicitly brazen about it.

Finally he pulled the cab up in front of her building and shut off the motor. They still had not spoken a word to one another. Fawn stared at him in the mirror, making no effort to get out. He turned his head and glared at her over his shoulder. "Isn't this it?" he said, staring suggestively first at her mouth, then down at her loose breasts that rose and fell in her excitement beneath her thin blouse. She had dressed in such a hurry when leaving Eric's and Danika's house that she had merely stuffed her bra in her handbag.

When she said nothing, but simply stared at him, her eyes again saying, Fuck me, fuck me, you can fuck me, you can fuck me, he repeated softly,

"Isn't this it?"

"Do you have some place you can take me?" she whispered, trying not to sound nervous or uncertain, half-angry at him for forcing her to begin it.

His cruel sarcastic mouth that gave her delicious shivers twisted into a mocking grin of appraisal, and his eyes drifted again down to the visible bumps her nipples made in the fabric of her blouse. "That depends on where you want to go," he grinned, staring boldly at her breasts.

"I want to go crazy," she whispered. She shifted her shoulders slightly so that the firm out-thrusting globes swayed beneath the cloth.

"What kind of crazy do you want to go?"

"I'll bet you can figure that out."

His eyes came back up to her face, menacing, slightly threatening, but still flickering with sarcasm. "Why don't you tell me," he said, his voice deep, hoarse, deadly serious.

He sounded so rough and brutal that for a moment she winced with fear of him. What am I doing? What am I doing? a whirling, reeling voice in her head asked over and over. But at the same time his rough, daring manner excited and even thrilled her. "Because you already know," she said, terrified of herself and what she was doing, but unable to resist the excitement of the moment.

Suddenly he reached out a hand across the seat and ran two rough callused fingers along her cheek. His dark eyes were hot and smoky.

"But I want to hear it from you."

Fawn's whole body trembled at the feel of his gnarled fingers against her cheek. "I… I…" she stammered, unable to say anything else, glancing down at her shaking fingers.