Walk the Line For You

Walk the Line Part 1

As I lean against the car door with my head resting along the open window, the moon is illuminating my face while his long, skinny fingers plunge deep inside my tight hole. I let out a fake moan to appease him, but my mind is elsewhere. I'm thinking about my next-door neighbours' more thick experienced fingers inside my pussy. The thought of it pushes me to climax and I shout out, "Yes!"

He pulls out and holds up his fingers with a proud smile on his face. He's completely oblivious to the fact that he had next to nothing to do with my come all over his fingers. Giving him a small smile, I reach out for him to lean in closer. In the middle of our tender kisses, I hear the zipper to his pants lowering. I jolt and push him away. "Not tonight." I hold my breath in fear, waiting and praying he won't push it any further.

"You're a dirty little slut and a fucking tease if you don't think that I deserve a little something for myself," he snarls at me.

As much as I like him, which isn't much, he sometimes turns into a scary asshole. I know I'm not getting home anytime soon if I don't cater to his needs. I have to think about what I can do to placate him; intercourse is out of the question, not that I don't like it, I just prefer to do it with my neighbour. A blow job isn't completely off the table, and again, I don't hate it, I just don't enjoy the sticky endings. I finally look at him and hold out my hand, he smirks and pulls his junk out of his pants, placing it in my hand. I stroke his shaft and caress the head with care before stroking him up and down.

"Focus on the head," he whispers. I move my hand back up to the tip and polish his knob with enough pressure to push him over the edge. He jerks his hips, grunts and groans then blows his load all in my hand. Collapsing back on the seat next to me with his sticky dick resting on his abdomen, I can't help but cringe at the sight of it which costs me because he catches my look of disgust. He jerks himself up quick and slaps me hard across my cheek, causing my hair to fly over my face. The stinging burns my skin, and I swallow hard to keep the tears away. I push my hair out of my face all the while avoiding his deadly stare. He remains upright penetrating his cold eyes at me. A minute, maybe five minutes pass, and I'm being slapped again but harder, and before I can react, he's roughly grasping me by the chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. "Next time I'll pound your ass and make you suck me dry." He shoves me away, causing an involuntary whimper to fall from my mouth.

*****

Afterward, he drops me off at my house with an abrupt stop. I'm not sure if he forgot where I live and hit the brakes when he almost passes by my house, or if he's still pissed off and that's his way of showing it. There's no goodbyes or goodnight kisses, not even a kind smile or a friendly glance at each other as I climb out of the car. I barely have the door closed before he's speeding off down the road with his tires squealing. I spin around in time to see his taillights disappear around a bend in the road.

"Asshole."

I turn to face my home, well my father's home. After all, I am only nineteen-years-old. I take a calming breath, fix my dress, and smooth my hair out before walking up the driveway. It's almost midnight, but my father should be asleep, blissfully unaware of my late-night excursion. My chances of getting caught by him looking upset and disheveled are slim to none. I slide my key into the lock of the front door and quietly walk inside, or I try to quietly walk inside. My father's house is old and everything creaks, squeaks, or needs a good bang or slam just to get any of the old doors to close properly. It makes for sneaking around really hard to do, even the goddamn stairs creak. I can hear my father snoring from his bedroom as I walk past to my bedroom. As soon as I close my door, I immediately strip off my dress, bra, and panties, then I put on a pair of soft pajamas. Just as I'm about to turn off the light, I catch sight of myself in the free-standing mirror in the corner of my bedroom. I'm compelled to walk over and take in the sight of the girl who's staring back at me. My eyes are red and puffy from the unshed tears that I refuse to let go in front of Mathew. As I glare at the red, angry skin on my cheek where I was harshly slapped, my determined tears return, spilling down my cheeks. I wrap my arms around myself and wish more than anything to be in the arms of my neighbour. I know that's impossible because we made a deal that the only time we'd see one another was whenever my father was working. We can't risk getting caught. I wipe my face before turning the light out and climbing into bed. I reach for my teddy bear, pull it close to my chest and snuggle into it as I close my eyes.