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Falling for My Boyfriend's Dad(7)

By:Cassandra Dee



So I compromised. Instead of approaching strangers, I'd explore the  apartment first, give myself the grand tour. At least I wasn't hiding  out, literally standing behind a plant anymore, and who knows? Maybe  afterwards, I'd be brave enough to talk to some new people, introduce  myself and make small talk, smile like I was confident and self-assured.  Little by little, right? I was slowly becoming the new Ally, building  up my self-esteem and I just needed some time to shore up my courage  until I burst from the cocoon.

So I stepped tentatively into a darkened hallway, feeling a little  naughty. Was this wrong? Was it wrong to be exploring a stranger's  apartment, snooping like an intruder, a burglar casing the place? But  then I snorted and straightened my shoulders. This was Sarah's apartment  and the bitch had been so nasty to me that I was going to do whatever I  wanted, manners be damned.

And cruising down an empty hallway, I saw that the place was just like  the Martins' apartment. The apartment was huge, with an endless row of  doors and I sailed down the space, my footsteps soundless on the  expensive pile carpet. Holy cow, the mirror on the wall looked fancy,  with an ornate glass frame, the whole thing almost ten feet tall. I  tiptoed cautiously like a mouse, afraid to bump into something, afraid  to knock over priceless artwork.

But when I got to the end of the hall, that's when I heard it. There was a loud whack, and then a long, whiny moan.

"Oohhh," rasped a voice. "Ohhhh."

I stood stock still. Holy shit, was someone getting it on inside one of  the rooms? Right here, at the party? Guess it made sense, there were a  lot of horny teens gyrating and drinking like fish, it was a lethal  combination, beer goggles combined with loosened inhibitions.

So I leaned closer to the door, curious despite myself, and suddenly  realized that it wasn't closed. Oh no, our eager couple had left it  slightly open, and slowly, I leaned forward inch by inch to peer into  the crack. And that's when I got the shock of my life. Because it was  Jonah and Sarah, naked as the day they were born, going at it like  rugrats. But it wasn't the fact that they were having sex that knocked  my socks off, that made me twitch like a startled rabbit. Oh no, I  half-expected it with the way my boyfriend hadn't stood up for me  earlier, how he was a begging puppy in the other woman's presence. It  was the fact that they were engaged in some kind of weird dominatrix  play, nothing so mundane as vanilla sex. And I gasped aloud as Sarah  brought a flog down, making Jonah scream, his scrawny body laid out on  the bed, a number of red whip marks already painful and oozing on his  bare buttocks. Holy shit, he was bleeding, and Sarah chuckled evilly  with each laugh, brandishing the flogger, waving it over her head like a  cowboy's lasso before going in for another smack.         

     



 

And it got even weirder because Sarah, wearing nothing but shiny  thigh-high black vinyl boots, was far from done, this was just the  beginning in her sick bag of tricks.

"Get up," she hissed, and Jonah, crying, sobbing pitifully, slowly  picked himself up, his pale, flabby body trembling with a combination of  lust, arousal, and pain. "On your knees," she commanded, and slowly, my  boyfriend knelt before her on the floor, his dick limp, pink and small,  like a tiny little earthworm. Ugh, he was so unattractive and I was  suddenly glad that I was seeing this. Because no way could I have sex  with someone like Jonah, a bad personality and a bad body both,  ungracious, unkind, with weird predilections to boot.

But Sarah showed me just how depraved they could be. Because instead of  whipping him again, raising more welts on those tiny buttocks, she  instead crouched above him and ground her naked pussy onto his face.

"Eat it!" she screamed. "Eat me hard!"

And fuck, but it was crazy because this wasn't a sensuous slide, this  wasn't a delicate lick or even a tempting suck on her clit and labia.  This was Sarah slamming her pussy onto Jonah's face until he couldn't  breathe, eyes squeezed shut, tears trailing from the corners. And to add  insult to injury, she flayed him with the crop as he tried his best,  screaming, "Eat it you loser!" and "Fuck you, slave!" Jonah twitched  when the crop hit his back or ass, but all he did was bury his face  deeper up her snatch, mumbling something like, "Yes Mistress, yes, yes,  yes," as he cried, dick still limp, that tiny thing no bigger than a  magic marker.

So I backed away from the door with slow steps, breathing hard, unsure  what to think. On the one hand, I'd just caught my boyfriend cheating,  that was true. He was clearly sucking another woman's cunt, tasting the  privates of another chick, so it was grounds for breaking up. But on the  other hand, I dunno  …  I felt sorry for him. Because my tiny little  man's predilections ran to the extreme, and this was probably only the  tip of the iceberg. He and Sarah probably had some weird mistress /  slave relationship that went way beyond what I'd just witnessed, to all  sorts of humiliation, pain play, breath play, things I couldn't imagine,  deep and dark. So I exhaled, steadying myself, and retreated further  into the shadows, heart beating like a drum in my chest. What next? I  wasn't sure. Forcing myself to walk down the hallway, I made myself go  slow, one foot in front of another. It was no big deal right? After all,  it's not like Jonah and I were close, that we were emotionally bonded  or had even physically touched one another. I was a virgin still and for  some reason I'd assumed he was too, but clearly not. In fact, I wasn't  even sure I knew him anymore. Jonah was someone else, with a past, a  present, and a future that had nothing to do with me. And finally  letting myself breathe, I relaxed a bit because this much was clear  …  my  boyfriend had issues and I wanted nothing to do with them.





CHAPTER FOUR


Alison




I let myself back into the Martins' apartment, quietly shutting the  front door behind me. God, I had no idea when Jonah was going to be back  but it wasn't my business anymore. He had gone to a realm that didn't  include me and all I wanted to say was "go forth and prosper, do your  thing" because with a sudden rightness, I knew that this fake girlfriend  thing was over. So slowly, I tiptoed to the guest bedroom and let  myself in, changing into booty shorts and a tiny tank top before  climbing into the big bed.

The bed was so big, so soft, that sleep should have come easy. But  instead, I tossed and turned, unable to settle down. I wasn't upset  about Jonah or his secret life. But I guess the events of the night had  been shocking just the same, unsettling and just plain strange. Really? A  dominatrix? A whip? Oozing welts? Holy cow. So I sat up suddenly in  bed, resolving to make myself a glass of hot milk, maybe eat a couple  cookies. Yeah, a midnight snack would help calm me down, I'd be able to  relax a little better, ease the tension in my muscles. And if there were  Oreos in the kitchen, it'd be wonderful, reminiscent of my childhood  when nightmares were soothed with the creamy goodness of white and  blacks.

So I tiptoed into the hallway, quiet as a mouse. Where was Mr. Martin?  It was about midnight on the night before Thanksgiving for crying out  loud. Had he gone out? For what? Who goes out now?

But then I scolded myself. Of course he had gone out. Rob Martin was a  handsome, charismatic alpha male, and there were always people who  wanted to be around him. More accurately, there would always be women  who'd want a piece of him, to touch that masculine body, feel his  strong, confident hands on them. So I scolded myself again, turning the  corner to the kitchen in my padded slippers.         

     



 

But then I saw it. There was a big door with a slip of light underneath  and suddenly I knew it had to be Mr. Martin. He was here in the house,  alone in his study, and like a magnet drawn to a pole, I crept closer to  the rectangle of light on the floor, my body heating, face flushing. It  was so wrong, I know. I'd just caught his son doing the dirty with  another woman, I should have been angry and incensed. But instead, I was  already over it, lusting over his dad instead. What was wrong with me?  My emotions were jumbled, mixed, different currents and cross-currents  moving this way and that, leaving me a mess of jangled nerves.

But still, my feet crept closer to the office door and before I knew it,  I was peeking in. Stop, I commanded myself silently. Get a hold of  yourself, back off. At this rate, I was a real peeping Tom, the second  time tonight in fact, and I was completely prepared to see something  crazy, given the events of the night. But instead, it was just Mr.  Martin at his desk, reading silently. What, I wasn't sure, but that  handsome profile was focused, his face turned slightly away as the blue  eyes looked over a piece of paper. And oh god, but the alpha male was  dressed only in loose pajama pants, bronze chest bare and muscled, like  an Adonis at rest, strong arms thick, dark hair raffishly mussed.

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