Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

I was panting hard, lying on my back at the edge of my bed, with Cal between my thighs, holding my legs up and out, his pelvis making rapid undulations as he fucked me. I had already come, spouting up onto my belly, and he was working on it. He was looking intensely down into my face, but I was watching the play of his tattoos with the expanding and contracting of the muscles of his chest during his exertions. He was deep inside me, throbbing and pistoning me. I contracted the muscles of my channel in his cock, arched my back, and cried out "Now, now, now!"

I could feel him jerk and come, filling out the bulb of the condom. He pulled out of me immediately and turned and sat on the bed next to me. My own legs reached for the floor at the foot of the bed. He looked down at me and gave me a smirk.

"That was good. I like what you did there—to make me come." He bent down, messed around in the pockets of the trousers he'd dropped on the floor below the bed, and came up with a pack of cigarettes and some matches. He lit up, sitting there, legs spread and elbows on knees, and inhaled and exhaled a couple of times. My instinct was to make a comment about the cancer he was exhaling into the air in my place with that smoke, but I didn't say anything. It all went with the package that made me melt to him.

He'd left me there on the ground Saturday morning, just two days earlier, zipping up his shorts and padding out onto the field to retrieve Sid, who had also finished breeding Starbright. Hadn't said a thing. He'd taken hold of me and fucked me as naturally as Sid had mounted Starbright—just like it was the most natural thing to do. No emotional entanglements at all. Knowing that I wanted him and would just hold steady on all fours while he breeded me too.

I sat up half dazed, but well fucked, and watched him go to the parking lot, get into a black Escalade that had been parked there when I drove in in my Camarro, and peel out of the park. I thought that would be the last I'd see of him, him fulfilling my idea of a tough-guy one-night stand.

The first thing I'd done when I got home was to go online trying to find the pedigree of his poodle. It hadn't been that zany that I'd let him fuck me in the park. I had practically rolled over and begged for it back in class. What had been zany was letting his dog fuck mine. I bred her for the money her pedigree pups brought in. I found, though, that the lines for Jim Causey's poodle were as good as Starbright's own, so I wasn't fucked there, if the breeding had taken. I'd saved a stud fee.

I thought briefly that I should have paid Cal a stud fee because he had taken care of me so well. I almost regretted that he was one-night-stand material.

But then I'd answered a ring at the door of my house on Tuesday afternoon, and there he was.

"Been thinkin' of you since Saturday," he said.

I looked past him to the driveway. He was driving a beat-up old Dodge Ram today. I decided the Escalade must have been Jim Causey's car.

"I didn't expect to see you again," I said.

"I didn't expect it either," he replied.

"So," I said.

"So, do you want me to fuck you here in the doorway, or do you have a bed?"

When he put it that way, how could I refuse? We kissed and groped each other in my bedroom, at the foot of my bed. The dogs had watched us with curiosity as he followed me through the house to the bedroom, but I shut them out. They were used to watching my boyfriends fuck me, but that had never been rough play. I expected this to be rough, and I didn't want any of them to get the wrong idea and to take a chunk out of Cal's buttocks when I was screaming and squirming under him.

He had pushed me down hard on the foot of the bed with a shove of the heel of his hand to my sternum, and I'd watched him strip his clothes off. I was just wearing shorts, and he had no trouble jerking them and my briefs off my legs. He was more than half hard. And, with him, half hard was breathtakingly enough.

With no discussion or preliminaries of any type, he came up on the bed, straddled my chest; grabbed my wrists with his fists, forcing my arms above my head and wide; and arched his chest over my head, pressing the bulb of his cock at my lips. I opened my mouth to him, and he face fucked me, making me gag and groan while he stroked and filled out.

Again, without saying anything, he moved right into crouching between my thighs, with one hand on my throat, holding me to the bed, and the fingers of the other one opening my channel up with the help of spit. My legs were running up his chest. I was gasping for breath, my eyes bugging out, and staring into his face. He let loose of my throat and pulled his fingers out of my hole, grabbed my ankles, raised and jerked my legs painfully spread wide, and went right to fucking me. I had no idea when he'd rolled the condom on.

He fucked me hard, forcing himself right inside me and pistoning hard and deep. He pumped my legs back and forth, in to his hips and then brutally wide out as he punched his cock up into me, to the rhythm of his stroke. I jerked and grunted, my torso coming off the surface of the bed with each thrust, and I wondered if I'd be able to walk the next day. But I didn't care. I was vocal enough that the dogs were barking and scratching at the bedroom door. I was glad I'd closed them out.

"Do you always fuck this way?" I asked him after he was done and was sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking a cigarette, as I lay behind him, my arm around his waist, my hand encasing the root of his cock.

"You learn to be quick about it in prison. It goes on all over the place, but mostly on the sly."

I nearly gasped. I wasn't surprised, but I wasn't prepared to have been right.

He turned toward me and leaned over, his eyes searching my face for my reaction to that revelation. I reached up with a hand and traced the tattooing on his chest.

"Is that where you got the tattoos too?"

"You have plenty of time to collect those in prison," he answered.

"How long have you been out?"

"Two months. I was in more for who I was associated with than for what I did."

"And Jim Causey waited for you?"

"Just hooked up with him. He's my work release arrangement. I'm his personal attendant. Like I told you."

"I thought he was your sugar daddy or something. That personal attendant was something very personally applied."

"I don't fuck him, if that's what you mean. I jack him off when he needs it and let him blow me when he wants."

Somehow I didn't see the difference. Causey kept him for sex.

"Look. He was the work release situation I was assigned to for my probation."

"And you take care of all of his personal needs, plus you groom his poodle for him."

"The grooming was part of the deal. I have to do community service for six months, while I'm on probation. Causey hooked me up with a no-kill dog rescue center. I can do my community service by grooming dogs there. He said it would be one of the easier ways to do community service and it seems right to me. I'd rather deal with pooches than with people. I haven't been very good in dealing with people."

"But Causey would like you to stay on with him after the six months, I'll bet, and I'll also bet that you're willing to do that."

"Listen, I came here to fuck, not to play twenty questions. You tired of doin' that? I have other places I could be."

"You know I'm not tired of it—well, I am; you've worn me out. But that doesn't mean I want it to stop. But you don't have to leave at all. I can offer you the same deal as Causey is doing for this six months. I can hook you up with dog grooming credits for community service. You can be my personal attendant."

"I can attend you right now," he growled. "Pull up onto the bed on your belly."

I did so as he put his cigarette out in an ashtray on the nightstand and rolled on another condom.

Once more he showed me both that he didn't much care for conversation and that I was weak enough to take his fucking anyway I could get it, as he straddled my buttocks, slid back into me, and, leaning his chest over my back with his weight on the heels of hands placed on either side of my shoulders, began to pump me hard and deep again.

After he'd ejaculated again, I was still so half blotto from the hard fucking he'd given me that I just laid there and watched him light up the cigarette again and then, when he'd finished it, pull on his shorts and sandals and move over to and open the bedroom door. My dogs rushed right past him to ensure I was OK, and by the time I got them off me, he was gone.

And he was gone for six months. He not only had doubled the one-night stands I had with big, dominating bruisers like him, but he also had taken a chunk of my heart. Maybe one night was all I could afford with someone like him. Perhaps I grew too attached to and needy for men who could give me what Cal did. Anyway I moped for a couple of months, tried to forget about him for a couple of months, and slowly was on the way to do so for a couple of months.

Starbright moped too. Nothing came of Sid's studding of her in the park.