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It was a bold statement, and it was a lie. Her brown eyes were too soft. He cupped her face in his hand. “What man? What was his name?”
That flicker again. “I-I don’t know,” she stammered. “It’s all like, blurry…I don’t know!”
“This sudden bout of amnesia is mighty convenient,” Ross said menacingly. “Names! An address! Something! Start talking or I give you to the police in those clothes.”
“I don’t know! I said I don’t know!” She cringed away from him.
Ross stayed silent for a minute longer to give her a chance to reveal herself. A petty tactic, but sometimes it worked. When she matched his silence he frowned. Finally he said, “Angel, this is really for your own good. This situation can’t continue. I have no responsibility for another grown adult, let alone a— let alone a woman like you. I feel like Manny sent you here with wrong intentions, and it’s really better if we stop this. Right now. Are you listening? Hey!”
Angel had climbed off the bed and wrapped herself around him. For such a tiny girl she seemed able to look right in his eye whenever she wanted. Her smell walloped him like a bouquet of flowers over the darker, feminine scent of a woman who had rolled around in his bed all morning. His cock was hard even before she pressed her small face into his neck. Firmly he set her away from him.
“Angel, don’t touch me. This isn’t what— this isn’t what…Oh, Jesus.”
She backed away and sat down on the bed. Her eyes glazed over.
“Angel?”
She moaned and her back curled up like he had stroked her pussy. “St…sop…” she moaned. “Stop saying my name.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” He rasped.
“I can’t…I want…” She had broken out in a full sweat. She fell backward onto his bed and cried out, one hand shooting between her legs.
To her pussy.
“Oh, no. Hell no. Come on.” Ross looked around the room for cameras but her moans distracted him. She was possessed or some shit. Had to be. His dick was so hard and he gripped it— why not? She was shucking off all her clothes. Her bare titties glowed in the warm morning light. The nipples were dark red, like cherries.
“What are you doing? This ain’t gonna work. Distracting me with sex—”
“I need it…I need you,” Angel moaned. It sounded real. Not like some fake pornstar act. Already trying to convince himself. He was the dumbest bastard alive if he fell for this. Under no circumstances must he fall for this. Teeth gritted, Ross gripped his dick and forced himself to just watch. Watch as her muscular little legs fanned open and she split for him, showing him the dark flower of her cunny. The fat juicy petals separated, showing her pink insides. Apart from a little triangle over her plump clit, she was smooth and bare. She looked so tight.
“This bipolar shit won’t fly,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You need to start talking. Names. An address. Something…Christ…”
Hypnotized, he watched her cute little fingers thrust hard inside herself. She stroked out her wetness, coating her knuckles with white cream he knew would taste sweet as cake. He salivated, watching her. She tried to satisfy herself on just her fingers but was having difficulty.
“Get over here, Mister,” she moaned. “Help me.”
He knelt on the bed, his heart pounding, his dick straining his sweatpants. He rolled her into his arms. His very touch set her off in an apparent orgasm. She curled up on herself and shook violently as he carried her from the room. Her wet pussy leaked a gooey trail all over his forearm. Breathing like a bull in rut, Ross got her into the guest room and dumped her out on the fresh bed in there. He liked this room better than his own. It had a nice thick door— solid oak, in fact.
“What are you doing?” Angel moaned. Her nut seemed to have made no effect on her drive. Like a cat in heat, she craved the real thing. She reached for him, trying to grab him with her little witchy fingers, which smelled like her pussy. “Come here…Please touch me. Please!”
He backed up through the door and closed it.
“Noooo,” she cried. He heard her on the bed. She came again with loud, almost tortured cries. Something was wrong with the girl. Ross grunted, putting his whole hand around his dick under his sweatpants and jerking off to the sound of her orgasms until he had to lock the door and leave her there, still in the throes of whatever delicious sickness was claiming her.
As he washed the thick cum off his hands and belly, Ross felt better. He hadn’t touched her. He hadn’t fucked her. Just beat one off. The crazy little jess hadn’t closed him in her trap. He was still a man of common sense and reason.
Angel madeherself cum for the better part of an hour. Almost an hour on the dot. When she finally pulled her sore fingers from her sticky pussy she felt some of the haze lift from her head and that was when the fear returned. She was afraid. She didn’t know what brought on that feeling to fuck, but it completely took over her mind and body and left her feeling dazed and helpless. Her pussy ached and her titties felt sore and heavy.
She opened her eyes, and they happened to land right away on a suitcase in the corner. Something about it looked familiar. The hazy feeling crept over her mind again, and she stood up and walked over to it. She dragged it out and unzipped. It was full of women’s lingerie. Lace and silk. Stuff to get fucked in. Angel knew somehow these garments were meant for her to wear. She pulled out something green, her favorite color. It had the bottom cut out, for her pussy lips.
I like green the best. Least I remember that.
This new room wasn’t like Ross’s. It was smaller, more cozy. But it had a guest room had a bathroom attached. Holding the new clothes in her hands Angel walked in— the lights here were automatic, too.
She washed herself with the expensive-smelling soap, dried in a towel that had been warming up in a heated closet (!) and then sat down on the bed. Her legs hurt. Her head hurt. She still wanted that man.
Where am I? Why am I here?
