THFWS&TTM’s: A Tryst with a Twist

A Tryst with a Twist

 

Now the next part of our story gets a bit tricky; I mean, imagine two people who are only marginally acquainted with each other, but who nonetheless can’t wait to be alone together because they are filled with salacious curiosity and lust after each other in ways that approach biblical proportions to an extent that they can’t stop fantasizing about the next move, who will do what, etc. etc., all the while clairvoyant of each other’s thoughts, courtesy of a drug called The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil (which more than lives up to its moniker), chaperoned by an equally telepathic Chimpanzee/Bonobo hybrid.

Anastasia drove a fully-restored, customized 1981 DeLorean DMC-12 that had been a wedding gift from her husband. She was not fond of leaving it anywhere, but the Sanctuary was about the safest place she knew of, and there was no way she could have driven herself, Stan, and Frederick to the Habitat.

Fortunately, Stan used a company vehicle (a midnight-blue Ford Crown Victoria…what else would you expect from a G-man trying to look inconspicuous?) that was adequate to the task at hand. Frederick sat in the back seat.

Anastasia slid in next to Stan, although he insisted she wear the center seat belt if she did. She was short enough that she did not obscure his view of the rear-view mirror, although he was somewhat uncomfortable with her stroking the top of his right thigh while he drove. She sensed that his entire body stiffened as soon as she touched him, although some parts stiffened considerably more than others….

(“Maybe I should put a little lipstick on his dipstick…”)

(“There’s no way I can drive if she does that…no way Bob!”)

(“You mean bob the knob?”)

(“No! I mean I don’t think I could concentrate on driving while you were doing that…not that I wouldn’t like a rain check as soon as we stop…”)

(“Well, then pull the car over before you pass out from all the blood draining from your big head to your not-so-little head…”)

(“You do realize I know everything that you two are thinking, right?), added Frederick (…but don’t hold back on account of me…I’m not one to judge or criticize…”).

Without turning around, they both knew he had “taken himself in hand”, so to speak, and Anastasia found herself a little bit turned on by the prospect of imagining a monkey jerking off in the back seat while she blew Stanley in the front, but Stan would have no part of any of that, which disappointed Frederick a great deal more than it did Anastasia, although he did finish masturbating before Stan could stop him. Anastasia was luridly fascinated and watched while Stan pulled the car over and made Frederick clean up the mess with a roll of paper towels he kept in the car.

(“Well, Dudley Do-Right…you really are prepared for everything, aren’t you?”) Anastasia jokingly replied. (So since we’re already stopped, I could help you with that stiff joint problem you seem to have developed…”)

“God Almighty already, Anastasia! I promise I will fuck your brains out as soon as we get rid of Frederick and get back to my place…OK? You can suck my cock as long and as much as you want, but I gotta get this monkey out of my back seat and delivered safely to The Habitat…” Stan was so flustered by Anastasia’s frank sexuality that he did not bother to realize he was actually speaking out loud, or that the guard at the entrance to The Center for Primate Research, aka The Habitat heard everything he said as they rolled up.

(“Hey! Who the fuck are you calling a monkey, you over-muscled jackass?!?!…It’s Bonanzee, in case you forgot….”)

“Sorry…” said Stan.

“Excuse me, Mr. Linderman?” The guard was trying very hard to keep a straight face as it was. “If you’re in a hurry, I can take Frederick the rest of the way to his habitat, if that will help, sir.”

“No, but thanks Williamson…” said Stan as he signed the list on the clipboard.

“Just trying to help, sir” said the guard as he winked to Stan.

“That will be all…but thanks.” Although Stan was more embarrassed than aggravated, he gave the guard a look that implored Williamson’s humanity not to repeat what he had heard but that nonetheless stressed what a bad idea it would be if he did. Stan was generally a very jovial, likeable man in many ways, if you were not the target for his role as Intimidator, but he also had the reputation of being a terrible enemy for anyone stupid enough to piss him off.

“Say no more sir…discretion is my middle name…you and your guest have a good evening.”

In less than five minutes time, Frederick was safely returned to his home, and Stan was “Expediting” his return to his abode with Anastasia at his side.

“…and by the way, Yes…” said Anastasia…“and No….”

“Excuse me?” said Stan.

“Yes, I can deepthroat and swallow, and it’s shaved as clean as a whistle, and eventually, I’ll probably let you do anal, if you’re a really good boy…and yes, I’ve been tested…negative by the way…and I’m very discreet…and no, I’m not wearing any panties and practically never do; no, you don’t have to worry about my husband…he’s not at all the jealous type and he’s out of the country for at least another month, so you don’t have to take me home until morning if you don’t want to…and yes, I intend to make sure you’re way too tired to even think about driving before noon, and yes I can make you the best breakfast you’ve ever had if I do stay, but no, I won’t get my feelings hurt if I don’t…remember…I can hear every thought you have.”

“OK, well…yes I am circumcised and fairly closely trimmed, but not shaved; no, I have never had a problem with premature ejaculation…yes I am sure you can make me cum several times before dawn…yes I’ve been tested…also negative, by the way, yes I love kissing, cunnilingus, and cuddling, and the scent of a woman. No, I don’t especially want to take you back any time soon…yes, I’d love for you to spend the night…two can play at this game, it seems.”

Stan was just then pulling into the parking space at his apartment building. He turned to kiss her before he even shut off the motor or the headlights, which seemed strangely out of character for him. They kissed deeply and passionately for several minutes and Anastasia unzipped his fly and started to stroke his cock before he could regain his composure enough to suggest they take the party upstairs, where he promised to show her a very, very good time.

He had barely finished locking the door before she had his cock in her mouth. He dropped his pants and picked her up, grabbing her ass and teasingly pushing his member against her sopping-wet cunt lips, parting them and pulling back just enough to spread them just a little more each time before he finally impaled her so deeply it took her breath away for a moment, even though she was well-prepared for the thrust that nearly made her cum right then and there.

She could feel the head of his generous manhood all the way back to that small pocket way past her uterus that felt like he was rubbing the base of her spine…there was no more room after that. She remembered the Tantric reference to the Kundalini Gland as she felt waves of pleasure cascading up her chakras. He had a wide, flared corona that was considerably thicker than his generous shaft, and she could feel him filling the pocket with it, stretching it open farther that she thought possible. She’d had three children and a very generous and accommodating, but tight pussy, but the majic pocket he found was bringing her over the edge quicker than she had thought possible.

He turned his back to the wall beside the door as she kicked her shoes off and placed her feet flat against the wall as he grabbed her buttocks and repeatedly slammed her down upon his cock. She began to push off from the wall with her feet and legs until he was almost completely withdrawn from her snatch before he forced his prick back into her all the way up to his balls, which she could hear slapping against her ass every time he thrusted into her.

She began to cum, and moaned with such a guttural animal sound that it surprised even her to hear it. He continued to violate her savagely, going even faster and harder than before…and she loved it.

She was cumming so hard that she knew he could feel it as her body was wracked with spasm after spasm. She was so wet that she could feel it pouring out of her and soaking his legs and his pants which were still around his ankles as she let go of her hold on his shoulders, arching her back as he held her aloft from behind her, fucking her furiously and continuously until she finally felt his throbbing cock spewing and gushing inside her as he held her tightly to him until he stopped, feeling his viscous semen flooding every nook and crevice of her cunt, flowing out of him and into her as it gushed past his slowly shrinking pleasure-pole.

He dropped to his knees and let her back rest on the floor as he slowly and gently stroked his cock in and out of her until it was completely flaccid as she spit it out of her with a final contraction.

He sat back and took off his shoes and pulled off his trousers. The next day they would have taken on the appearance of a heavily glazed French cruller, and would provoke a curious smirk from the dry cleaner who tried to pretend not to notice when he dropped them off on Monday.

Anastasia wanted a cigarette so badly she wished she could taste it, but she already knew Stan was a non-smoker. They rejoined to the bedroom, where she decided to slake her oral fixations on Stanley instead.

(“So what is ‘pegging’ I wonder?”) Stan mused as he recalled some random thoughts he intercepted shortly after their initial coupling.

“Yee Gads! You don’t miss much for someone only so recently clairvoyant…we can cross that bridge sometime in the future, OK? Now don’t make me start imagining old, naked lesbian nuns on the toilet just to get a little privacy….” Anastasia blurted out loud, realizing she was going to have to be more careful about her musings until she (and Stan) were better acquainted. She had a distinct impression that he would not be “down with that” (at least initially), and was somewhat surprised at how naive he was in such matters.

“OK, but we need to have a truce about a few things…I already figured out your husband’s name is also Frederick, but you call him ‘Rick’…I don’t want to know what agency he works for and you can’t ask for whom I work. I may be new to reading minds, but I was trained in how to block thoughts and ideas from my mind in case I was captured and interrogated…not even under sodium thiopental, and we need to find ways to focus our imaginations on other things or it will get too complicated to enjoy each other’s company.”  Stan spoke softly as he stroked Anastasia’s hair while she laid her head on his stomach.

(“OK…I was taught not to talk with my mouth full, but we don’t need to worry about now, do we?”) She knew well enough he got the idea, however.

And for the rest of that night, well past dawn they kept their minds well occupied with other thoughts they were only too happy to share.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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