The Sweet Stench Of Revenge – 4

It so happened that one of the other jobs that I’d interviewed for panned out. I accepted a position with a cruise line based in Miami, working in the public relations department. It was just a six month contract, but that suited me just fine.

My neighbor in the apartment complex in which I live had shown interest in subletting my place for his sister, and with a little organization I got myself set with the intention of heading south at the end of the month.

This really left only one thing; screwing over McKlusky. I hoped in some way McKlusky had gained some enjoyment from his cruelty to me when I was a young teen. I say that only because I knew I was going to savor every moment of my vengence.

And so, with a little help of a gay friend of mine who was visiting town, Michael, I formulated a plan. Revenge is, as they say, a dish best served cold. Well, McKlusky was going to find that late summer in Seattle positively arctic in nature.

At length I called McKlusky back.

“I’ve been trying to reach you all week!” He bleated.

“I’m so sorry,” I simpered. “I was out of town. My sister…”

“Well, didn’t you take your cell?”

“Oh, I never do when I travel,” I said.

I could sense he was having second thoughts. “I am so glad you called, though. I wondered if you might like to buy me dinner tonight. There’s a place just opposite my apartment. They do such nice fish.”

“Fish, huh?”

God, he was such a philistine. I added, “But, I suppose if you’re too busy…”

“No, I’ll pick you up at 7,” he snapped. “What’s the address?”

“Meet me outside 950 Baker, at 7.00.”

I dressed in a pair of tight leggings and a low cut pink tee shirt with a picture of a butterfly embroidered on the front.  About my waist I wore a thin white belt. It was an overly feminine outfit and something even I would not usually wear. But for tonight’s purposes it was perfect.

The wonderful thing about leggings is that they do rather reveal everything, and yet nothing. Poor McKlusky. I felt almost sorry for him.

Dinner was boring, with him drooling and babbling about his work, and himself. These were both subjects I had no interest in, but I looked at him, batted my eyelids and laughed at the appropriate moments. By the time he’d swallowed two double whiskeys and leered at my breasts for twenty minutes I felt it was time to suggest we have coffee at my place.

During the course of the meal he had disparagingly mentioned his wife, and how she had wanted children, and that they were trying, but unknown to her he’d had a vasectomy three weeks after they got married.

“I hate children. They are so expensive!” He said.

I laughed, and cringed inwardly. If I had any reservations about what I was about to do to McKlusky they had long since evaporated.

We stepped into my apartment and he settled into the leather sofa in the living room. I brought coffee, standing over him, so his face was level with my crotch.

“I’m sure I can find something more interesting for you, if you like…” I said softly.

He rose to his feet, and still towered over me, just like he had when I was thirteen.  I felt a moment of hesitation, but pressed on.  I parted my lips, the perfectly applied cum-slut pink lipstick beckoning him to kiss me.

At first I pulled away, but he pulled me toward him. His body was powerful, and I pretended to struggle just a little.

“No…” I muttered, but he pulled me to his strong body insistently. I pushed him away, but intentionally half heartedly. That was when his lips found mine. He hungrily devoured my lips, forcing himself on me, but I was inwardly smiling to myself and laughing. This was almost too easy.

I returned the passion of his kiss. Then I slipped my slim hand between his legs. He was hard, and needed satisfaction. I squeezed his erection through the fabric of his pants.

As I kissed him passionately, I said “No, the bedroom!”

He almost stumbled in his rush to get to the bedroom. I pushed open the door, and there I told him to sit in an upright chair I had prepared.

“Wait,” I said. “Let’s make this interesting.”

He looked at me like a pig ready to stuff its face into the trough, but did as I told him. I removed my tee  shirt, and the thin belt. He sat watching, raping me with his eyes.

“Patience,” I said. I took the belt and carelessly looped it around his neck, and fastened it lightly to the back of the chair. I could see from the sweat on his brow this was exciting him.

I loosened his shirt, and then removed it. He had a tattoo on his belly. I think it was meant to be a tiger, but it looked more like a meer cat. I gushed over his torso. I even kissed his nipples.

“I’ve got just the thing for you,” I said. I turned and walked to my bedside table. There I opened the draw and took out a pair of handcuffs.

McKlusky was so predictable. He swallowed hard as I returned and took his unresisting wrist and placed it behind his back. There I fastened it to his other wrist, looping the cuffs through the chair. He was firmly attached.

I must admit a part of me was enjoying the sexual teasing. I sat astride his lap and ground my buttocks against his throbbing erection. He was panting.  You don’t think I’m sadistic, do you?

It was time. I reached into his pants and pulled him from his pants. With slow deliberation I looked at his eyes and firmly worked my hand up and down, and he groaned in pleasure. I think he was one short stroke from completion, when I stopped and went to my bedside table once more. This time I returned with a blind fold. He protested, but I was not interested. Once firmly attached, I walked quietly to my spare room, and that’s when I silently brought Michael, my gay friend into the room.

He kept silent and smiled.

The real fun was about to begin.

I hope you are enjoying my story. Be sure to use the comments below to let me know.

Julie

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