Deviations Read Online Free

Didn’t want to
have anything to do with my tits, either. Also fine.
    My eyes were adjusting to the dim light coming
into the room from around the edges of the white plastic window shade. His dick
was average, thick enough but a little short. I could see he was hard, which
was good because maybe he wouldn’t make me suck him. He unwrapped the condom
and put it on. He was on task, a man on a mission.
    He slapped the inside of my right thigh, and I spread
my legs as he moved his knees between them. The juices don’t flow for me
anymore, so I had lubed up. It didn’t hurt much when he entered me. Nothing he
did felt good, of course, but, to tell the truth, I can’t remember the last
time anything down there felt good. But I was officially getting laid. Which, if
I had to guess, was the goal.
    He pumped steady, like a machine. He had his palms
on the mattress and his arms straight, so he wasn’t touching anything he didn’t
have to to get the job done. I could feel his prick going a little soft after two
or three minutes, but I calculated that he’d likely have enough left to come
before he went limp. I hoped so, anyway. It didn’t make any difference from my
perspective, naturally, since he could have been swirling a toilet brush around
in a bowl for all I was feeling. But it’s better if the guy comes. It’s a pride
thing. I’d rather see him strut around afterwards like a fuck god than get all
surly and want to explain himself. You don’t come to the Driftwood to talk to strangers.
    Eventually, he did come. He didn’t lie down on the
bed or anything, just pushed hard one last time, and the mattress stopped
rocking. He pulled out and got right off the bed and went into the bathroom.
    I turned over on my side, lifted myself onto an
elbow, and drained the cup of JD. I lay back down, my right hand reaching for
the familiar leather of the strap on my bag. I drifted off or down or out.
Didn’t know where I was, except that it wasn’t room 115 at the Driftwood.
    Later, I heard the guy coming out of the bathroom,
walking around. Then I felt the mattress shift, like he was getting into bed
next to me. That happens. He’d paid his sixty bucks, he was going to use the
room a little bit more. I let my mind drift back to wherever I was.
    I felt the mattress shift again, and I smelled him
as he started to straddle me. I started to turn over to look up at him, figure
out what was happening. Guys like this, who had to work real hard to come once,
they don’t tend to tee it up again ten minutes later.
    I was on my back, starting to sit up, when I felt
his left hand on my throat. He had all his weight on me, holding me down.
    “The fuck are you doing?” I said, panic in my
voice, before the pressure on my windpipe shut me up. His hand was gripping my
throat hard, cutting off my breathing. He tightened the grip. I fought to break
it with my hands, but he was too strong. With my left arm I hit him inside his
elbow. His arm bent for a second, then locked back in, tighter than ever. I was
starting to see red circles. That’s when his right hand came out of nowhere and
smacked me across the jaw.
    I lay back, stunned, tasting the blood warm in my
mouth where my teeth had cut the inside of my cheek.
    Then I felt the hot liquid on my stomach and my
chest. He was pissing on me. “Whore,” he said, his voice low and steady. He
repeated the word a few more times as I tried again to break his lock on my
neck. But his grip was secure. I couldn’t breathe. My arms fell to my side and
the room went black.
    Sometime later I regained consciousness. I could breathe
again, although my windpipe was still sore, and my jaw hurt like hell from
where he slugged me. I reached down with my left hand to feel for my bag. It
was still there. I unzipped the inside pocket and pulled out my pistol.
    I got out of bed, still naked, full of sticky
half-dry piss, and cleared the bathroom. I came back into the main room and
checked for my wallet. For some