Phil hurried to the address in the morning. It turned out to be a newsstand. Why had she brought him here?
His eyes wandered, as usual, to the top shelf.
***
1983 it was. Summer.
Phil wandered into the motel newsstand. He was looking for comic books.
There was an issue of Playboy. It was the Dirty Book, the one Good Boys Aren't Supposed to Read. Normally it was on the top shelf. But not today. Someone had put it where they shouldn't.
Dark whispers were spread about Playboy at school. It was said to have pictures of women in it, women with no clothes on.
Phil wondered what sort of man read it. Surely women would feel very uncomfortable in front of someone like that. He could not imagine ever admitting to such a thing.
His curiosity was about to kill its cat. He was too short for anyone to see him. He opened the magazine.
Women didn't have dinks! Instead, they had...hair? Did it get wet when they went to the bathroom? And their chest! It had big round lumps on it, lumps whose purpose puzzled the boy.
That wasn't as puzzling as what was happening to his dink. It was hardening. Just like it sometimes did when he had to go to the bathroom. He had never felt that way before. He did not understand it. It felt very good, but it was scary.
For weeks, months, years afterwards Phil was obsessed with the memory of those pictures. He would lie in bed at night, tossing and turning with the memories, feeling again the terrifying hardness in his dink. Touching it made it even harder. Eventually it all seemed to come together in an intense squirmy motion.
Phil never told anyone about his experiences. Surely no one else was engaging in such perversity. If anyone ever made teasing remarks about him and girls, he heatedly denied it. By the age at which porn began to circulate among other boys, Phil loudly proclaimed he would not read it, that he would never descend into the gutter. Nobody knew he touched his cock regularly, thinking first of that magazine, eventually of attractive girls in his class.
***
1975 it was. Spring.
Sue was walking through the park. Her eyes spied movement.
A chubby black boy had his face in a magazine. The boy's name was Derek. He was Sue's class.
Derek had a look of reverence in his face, as if reading the Bible. But it wasn't the Bible. It was Penthouse. His hand was inside his pants. Sue stared longingly at his face, full of veneration, even worship. She wished so much that someone would look at her like that.
Why not? "Try the real thing," she said boldly, stepping forward.
Derek looked terrified, squirming to hide the magazine under his ass, but Sue was already pulling off her clothes. She stood naked before him, young and cute and lewd. The sight of his crotch made her feel a sudden thirst. She'd heard girls talk about it.
Throwing caution to the wind, she sank to her knees, scrabbling in the dirt for his zipper...
She was roughly yanked to her feet. The policeman made her get dressed and frog-marched her home.
The luckless Derek was not in school the next day. Sue never saw him again. Teachers would only say that he didn't come to their school anymore.
Years later, she found out his neighborhood, on the other side of the tracks, had been rezoned into a different school district.
***
"Enjoying the view?"
Phil felt very embarrassed. "I'm sorry—"
"Don't be sorry, you dork," said Sue. "This is exactly why I brought you here."
"What?"
"What's your favorite magazine?"
"The New Yorker—"
"Porn magazine, you dingbat."
Phil blushed. "Playboy." She reached for the current issue. "Not that one," he said. "This one." He pulled out Playboy's Book of Lingerie, which was burdened with neither articles nor advertising. Its models were less famous, but Phil wasn't interested in celebrity.
She flipped through it. "Hot girls," she noted. "But no action. What about something hardcore? You read hardcore, don't you?"
"Um..." There was a large variety from Paul Raymond's notorious catalog. Finally, he reached for Club International.
"Perfect. Now go and buy them...that counter," she pointed. It had, of course, a pretty young woman at the till.
This did not bother Phil. He always tried to buy porn from an attractive woman, if possible. He remained polite, but it still gave him an exhibitionistic high.
Sue wouldn't let him take a bag. He carried the magazines openly on the street, his other hand in hers. She led him over to the river, down some stairs, and into a tunnel.
"What is this place?"
"Druggies come here at night," she said matter-of-factly. "People tend to avoid it during the day, but the sea air gets rid of the smells." She led him to a bench and scrubbed it clean with her ever-present baby wipes.
"Sit down." She sat beside him, took off her jacket, and draped it over his crotch.
"I think you have some reading material," she said playfully.
They had traded porn links online, of course, but Phil had never contemplated something like this. He kept looking back at her as he started to leaf through it.
"Not like that. I want you to read it the way you would jerking off at home."
Phil tried to, but couldn't.
"What's bothering you?" she asked.
"Why are we doing this?" he asked in return.
"I like humiliation, remember? And I know those girls are younger and hotter than I am."
"No, they're not—"
"Don't try to be nice. I know what I looked like when I was twenty. I want you to stare at these girls. Talk to yourself about them. Just don't touch yourself. Let me take care of that."
Phil turned back to the girls. At first, he muttered banalities. She's so cute. She has such a sweet smile. But it did not take long for his feelings to grow as hard as his cock. I wish she could suck my dick. I'd like to put my cock in her cunt.
There is a magic in porn, a magic in realizing that the model knows. In posing nude, she is giving tacit permission for men to lust after her, a validation of their hunger. Sue's presence made it all the hotter, a living endorsement of his vulgarity.
She slid her hand under the jacket and unzipped him.
"What are you doing?"
"Relax, he's under the jacket," she said breezily. Phil wasn't wearing the briefs with the convenient front entry, though. "Oh, screw it. Pull your pants down."
"What?"
"Part way down your thighs will do. Don't worry, this bench is clean, and no one can see you."
Phil wasn't sure about that, but it was too exciting to refuse. His stomach was filled with butterflies, his heart was thumping. Sue drew her finger lightly along his cock, pausing sometimes to taste the precum.
Soon he was calling the girls whores, sluts, cunts. He wanted to fuck them, he wanted them to suck his cock, lick his asshole.
"You can do better than that, master," Sue reminded him as he finished the magazine. She got up and knelt in front of him, putting her head under the jacket in quick motion.
"What are you—"
"I've wanted to do this for years," she said. "Read the hardcore. Tell me what you're reading and how you feel."
She knew his limits by now, and she kissed and licked his cock lightly rather than sucking it. Phil read, looking at pictures of spread-eagled girls, girls sucking cock, girls taking it up their cunts, up their asses. He read the captions calling girls whores and sluts. But his eyes were glazing over. You can't really think of a picture when the real thing is right under you, blowing you openly, shamelessly, in a New York bench in full public view.
"You...you whore. You're the filthiest, nastiest woman I've ever known," was all he could say.
"Thank you, master. I need something now. Can you turn to your favorite picture in the book?"
He chose a brunette, who claimed to be nineteen, posing provocatively with captions bragging about her sluttiness.
"Suck my cock, you dumb bitch."
"No."
"No?"
"Lean forward."
He did so, so that his cock pointed forward. He felt something round and hard rub on his cock. What was she—
And the shocked realization of what she was doing led his cock to explode. "Oh!" he called out, no longer caring who heard or saw. "Oh! OHHHH!"
He flopped back on the bench and hurriedly did up his pants. Sue threw off the jacket. The cum had landed on her forehead and dripped down her face. Sue wiped it away from her eyes, but otherwise just let it flow.
"Oh my god. You look so beautiful. So beautiful."
"Thank you, master."
He waited for her to pull out her wipes again, but she didn't.
"Are you...are you going to walk around in public like that?" asked Phil in a shocked voice.
"Damn straight," said Sue. "Like I said, I've wanted to do this for years."
The cum ran down her face, down her neck, leaving spots on her blouse collar. The two of them made quite a pair heading back into the city, she proud and haughty, he nervous and fearful. But he had to confess that it was an incredibly lovely and touching sight. He felt so proud of her, proud even to know her.
***
1994 it was. Summer.
Sue was back from the video store, practically bursting with excitement.
"Keith, you've got to watch this tape."
"What is it?" Keith asked.
"It's called The Story of O. It's a romance. It's French."
"French? I can't understand French."
"There are subtitles. You can read, can't you?"
Keith looked at the cover picture of a beautiful French actress.
"Wait, is this an X-rated movie?"
"Well yes, but this one actually has a story."
Keith was game to try something new if his wife wanted it. They cuddled up in the sofa and sat down to watch.
The movie did have a story. A man turns his girlfriend over to a secret society, where she promises to do whatever she's told. She is chained up and whipped—
"I can't watch this," Keith snapped, turning off the TV. "I'm going to bed."
Sue sat there, all by herself. Should she join him?
She turned the TV back on and watched the rest of the film alone. She had a few orgasms by masturbation that night, the first in years she'd had without Keith.
***
"What time do you leave tomorrow morning?"
"Ten. I'll have to leave for the airport early."
"We won't even have time for a quickie," said Sue regretfully. "So tonight's the night. I want to do it all."
"You mean — you want me to hurt you?"
"Would it turn you on?"
"But it would be wrong to—"
"Would it, or would it not, turn you on?"
Phil admitted defeat. "It would. I mean, of course part of me wants to go wild, wants to lash out. But what if I really hurt you?"
"We can still have limits. I think we can agree that anything that puts me in hospital — anything that would need any medical attention at all — is out."
"Of course. In fact, I don't want to draw blood in any way. You shouldn't feel pain for more than fifteen minutes after you leave."
Sue thought of her father, who used to leave her sore for hours. "Fifteen minutes? That's nothing."
"Okay. Now is there any part of the body you want to leave alone?"
"Maybe don't pull my hair. And don't tickle me. I think that's it. Oh, and no choking."
Phil looked taken aback. "I could hurt you...pretty much anywhere? Your mouth? Eyes? Ass? Vagina?"
"No medical attention about covers it. Oh, I guess no candle wax, or clothespins."
He swallowed. "How do you want me to hurt you?"
"We'll go to the sex shop and get something. But in the end, I want you to do whatever turns you on. If it makes you horny, it makes me horny."
"That sounds good—"
"But there's one more thing."
"What's that?"
"Rape."
The word sank into Phil's heart like a dagger.
"Rape is a crime."
"Not a real rape, silly. I'd never say no to you. This is a fantasy rape. A pretend rape."
"If you're not saying no, it's not rape."
"But I want it to be as violent as a real rape."
"Women get killed in real rapes."
"Okay, maybe not that violent. But like what we did last night, except in my cunt—"
"It's still a crime. I won't do it."
Sue's eyes narrowed. "Have you ever been raped?"
He looked shocked. "No."
"Do you know anyone who has?"
"No."
"Yes, you do."
It took a while for Phil to realize what she meant. His eyes widened in horror.
***
1983 it was. Spring. Sue awoke in an unfamiliar bed.
Where was she?
Cold hard metal bars on the side. Beeping sounds. Blue walls. She tried to sit up, and felt a stabbing pain go through her vagina. She felt groggy, confused, uncertain.
"Shh. Stay down," said a young male voice. It was a smooth voice, authoritative but friendly, calm but firm. "You've been through quite a bit."
"Who are you? Where am I?"
"My name is Keith. You're in hospital."
"Why...why..." Sue couldn't get any further words out.
"They said I had to wait here until the police arrived to take a statement," said Keith.
Sue struggled to focus her eyes. Why was this so hard?
"I guess I have to tell you. My buddies and I found you behind a dumpster on campus. There was this guy—"
Fuck. Fuck.
She was beginning to remember. She'd seen the other guy at the party. A tall, powerful build, confident smile, neatly brushed hair, an air of total confidence. She'd told herself then and there that she would suck that cock. Tonight.
She was proud of the collection of cocks she'd sucked. She knew what her parents would think, and she didn't care. If anything, that made the cum taste all the sweeter. Sue didn't need her parents anymore. She had a scholarship.
The guy had offered her a beer on the way out, a different brand from what everyone had been drinking...
"We were able to get him off you," Keith said. "He was...he was..."
"What?" Sue tried to shout, but couldn't.
"He had these rocks. He was putting rocks in your...in your..."
Pain and humiliation went through her. She'd thought herself free once she left home, free of her father's cruelty, of her mother's indifference. But no matter what road you are on, there is always one worse.
Rocks. What the actual fuck? She had been fully prepared to suck his cock. Why could that not be enough?
"I'm sorry we couldn't get you here right away," Keith said. "We beat the guy up, then I called 911. We had to argue with the ambulance to take you, they thought we had called about the guy. I wouldn't let them put you in the same ambulance as him unless they let me come with you."
"Th...thank you," she mumbled. She felt a surge of gratitude for Keith. She couldn't really see what he looked like, but his voice was so soothing and kind, it was the only thing that made her feel better.
***
Phil could not make sense of this. "If you were really raped, why would you want—"
"Because fantasy rape isn't the same thing at all as real rape," Sue said impatiently. "It's really plain old rough sex. It's just a lot more erotic to call it rape."
"But if you had it in real life, I still don't see why—"
"I don't see why either," Sue admitted. "But I do know that I want it. I think you're still holding back with me, trying not to go too far. It makes me want you all that much more. I want to completely give myself to you. To let you have all you desire."
They had reached the subway station entrance for Phil to head back midtown.
"Tonight's our last night," said Sue. "Don't think about me — think about yourself. I know part of you is curious about rape. Take this chance while you still have it."
