Her Anchor (73 page)

And as I was plowed, and pounded, and ripped to shreds beneath him, I could spy Mark across the room despite the jarring ripping back and forth of my head. I could tell that he was getting more and more worked up by the smashing of my lover against my ass, the hot, wet clapping of our genitals and the shrieks flying up from my lips in droves. He was pumping his own erection harder and harder and harder smashing his wrist into his pelvis with a devastating force, until at last he was back up and running in terms of the sexing department.

His refractory period now passed, he was sauntering back over to the two of us, climbing onto the pile, and adding his heat to our entwined bodies.

There was a bit of rearrangement, then, bodies shifting and repositioning, until at last we settled on an arrangement that was absolutely mind-blowing for yours truly.

Both of them, without warning, were inside me at once. Mark was beneath me, penetrating my pussy from beneath, his shaft drilling deep into me, and hitting my sweet spot each time he squirmed up into me beneath my weight. And on top of me, Justin was cramming his own cock up my cunt, his shaft grinding against Mark's and creating a beautiful, dreadful friction, the sliding of their erections against one another inside me driving me wild, and the overall effect as they pushed and pumped and grunted into my body unlike anything in my wildest dreams.

Those men stretched my pussy out harder and hotter than it had ever been stretched before in my life, pumping and jackhammering into me like mad, slapping and dashing and sending me moaning like wild with sensations with each passing thrust. And finally, with one last, vigorous heaving of flesh, they drove themselves deeper into my body, and all hell broke loose within that single, concentrated point.

Each of the men began to ejaculate wildly, their batting order unclear as they absolutely drenched my insides with sperm. What was clear as day, though, was the fact that each swirling of ejaculate coated each man's cock with the fluids of the other, lubricating them in as sensual a manner as you could hope to imagine as they continued to thrust and to joust, with the last dying pangs of orgasm.

The combined effect was entirely too much for me to be able to handle. I began, in no time at all, to cum wildly as well, set over the edge by the combined force of their cocks blasting into me, and nothing I could do at this point able to save me from my own beautiful destruction. Blinding orgasm came rippling through my sweat soaked body, causing me to twitch and convulse between the two men, fingers curling and groans of agony pouring from my lips, stars flashing before my eyes as I hit the roof with climax, and my breath momentarily failing me until at last, at long, weary last, I fluttered back down into some semblance of composure.

My lovers pulled out of me, and for some time the three of us made out tenderly, wrapped up in one another's arms, and so overwhelmed by the success of this most glorious high school reunion that I couldn't begin to believe it.

I would find out, only a couple of weeks later, that I was pregnant with one of the two men's babies, without any inkling as to which of the two of them was the true father.

This could prove itself quite the complication on any number of levels...

THE END

Chapter 1

I have always been tall.  Ever since I was young I remember being taller than all my friends.  I remember people telling me how strange my height was.  I remember people telling me that I should play women’s basketball.

But to be honest, I’m not even
that
tall.  I’m only 5’6.  Some of my shorter friends, who barely make it past 5’ would glare at me right now, but it’s true.  There are some girls out there who are legitimately six feet tall.  I only achieve that height when I am wearing high-heeled shoes, which I will admit is quite often.  So, okay, maybe I do appear to be 6’ tall
most
of the time but I’m not some freakishly tall monster. 

Even with my height and even with my stilettos there are men who are taller than me, so that was never a problem.  Plus, it’s not like I discriminate against short men; they can be just as fun to date.  However, none of this is the point.

The point is I never played basketball like everyone encouraged me to do.  Instead, I became a lawyer.  I did pretty well in school, paying my way through expensive universities with my good grades.  It always amazed people that I was smart
and
beautiful (but I’ll never admit this myself). I ended up getting a lot of romantic interest as I made my way through law school. 

Despite this, I locked my sights on Michael.  If I could go back in time and stop myself I would.   At the time, he seemed perfect.  He was handsome and smart.  He was top of the class and had a bright future ahead of him.  Many of our professors claimed that he would be one of the best defense attorneys in the state.  I believed them. 

When Michael and I ended up having class together he noticed me.  He thought I was cute and asked me out.  I, of course, said yes.  Who wouldn’t have said yes to Michael’s pearly white smile?  But I should have seen right through that fake smile.  But I didn’t. 

Instead, Michael and I started going out.  Shortly after passing the bar, Michael proposed, and once again being a fool, I said yes.  We married shortly after that and it didn’t seem to bother me that our relationship was moving so quickly.  I didn’t seem to mind that things were not as sweet as they used to be in the beginning.  All I cared about was marrying Michael. 

After our marriage, my career really took off.  I was never out of work and had a pretty good success rate.  I was climbing the rungs and becoming one of the best persecutors in the state.  Many people claimed it was due to my height and beauty, along with the pure confidence I was able to radiate in court.  I will admit that the courtroom was where I felt most at home.  People started to call it ‘Brooklyn’s Den.’ 

Brooklyn, by the way, is my name, sorry I never mentioned it before.  I got a little carried away with setting up the scene that I never mentioned it.  Anyway, my name is Brooklyn. 

Getting back to the story, Michael hated my success.  Instead of supporting me and being happy for me like any other good husband, he instead bathed himself in jealousy.  Unlike me, his career had not been as flawless as mine.  Despite what the professors said he did not turn into the best defense attorney in the state.  Instead, he was one of the worst. 

For this reason, Michael started to resent me.  He hated that I was more successful than he was.  He hated that I was the breadwinner of the relationship.  This hurt his pride more than anything else. 

Michael had been raised in the south and still had some of those backcountry morals flowing through his veins.  By this, I mean, he still thought that women were inferior to men.  I mean it is the 21
st
century, women have fought for their equality for ages and have proven themselves worthy of equality but yet there are still people like Michael who stick to old backward ways.

If I had known that Michael was a sexist bastard I would have left him from the very beginning but he was very good at concealing this very dark truth from me.  He was very good at pretending to be a saint when he had a million dark values swimming around in his soul.  Looking back at it now, I feel like a fool for ever falling for him. 

But I did fall for him and there is nothing I can do about it now. 

The point is that Michael was getting very jealous of me.  As our marriage continued he started to get bitter.  He no longer treated me sweetly like he used to when we were engaged and, in fact, he was often rude.  As time went on things only got worse and worse. 

Three years into my marriage and I was well accustomed to the verbal abuse Michael used to throw my way.  For some reason, I never thought to fight back.  I don’t know why but I never did.  As a lawyer, I could have put him in his place, but I never thought about it.  There was something taboo in the thought of going against my husband.

For this reason, as my career raised in status so too did the violence that Michael incurred on me.  By the end of our fifth year together he wasn’t just verbally abusing me, but physically abusing me as well.  He was smart to keep the violence to parts of my body I could hide with clothing. 

He would bruise my arms and then force me to wear a long-sleeved shirts, even in the summer.  I became very good at coming up with excuses.  It seemed no one would ever notice my silent pleas for help that I was slowly dropping.  It seemed like no one cared about me. 

What I didn’t know was that I was close to my breaking point. 

Chapter 2

One day, I remember it was a cold day in the middle of December.  Everyone around me seemed jolly from the Christmas joy running around, but I was miserable.  I felt unwanted and hurt. 

If I had a bad day at work I had nowhere to run to because if I went home Michael would just make my life a living hell.  To be frank, I was not very happy, but what was I supposed to do? Like so many other women who were going through what I was going through I put a smile on my face and tried to act like nothing was wrong. 

It was my day off and I was home alone cooking dinner.  I had never been a very good cook.  I could get by, but I was never a world-class chief like some of my friends.  Either way, I was decent. 

Michael never came home for dinner.  I assumed he was working late on some case.  Eventually, around midnight he came home and he came home with a vengeance.  He was angry, very angry, and I was the one to feel that wrath. 

By that time, I was already in bed, with a book in my hands.  I was enjoying my time alone, a little slice of peacefulness in my otherwise dark and dreary days. 

Michael suddenly rushed into the room.  He was like a violent storm raining down on my Eden.  I didn’t have time to react before he snatched the book out of my hands and threw it away.  He roughly pulled me out of bed. 

I whimpered in pain as he did this, as his hands wrapped around my arms like a vice grip.  He was hurting me, but like always, I didn’t find myself capable of fighting back.  I don’t know what came over me every time he got abusive, but it was like I was some other person: a damsel in distress who could do nothing but sit back and take his abuse. 

And that’s exactly what I did that night.  He was angry at so many different things.  He was angry at work.  He was angry at the city for giving him a parking ticket. He was angry at me for leaving him a crappy dinner.  All of this hatred was concentrated into his fists which now rained down upon me. 

Unlike all the other times, he didn’t seem to care where the blows fell he just wanted to use me as a human punching bag.  So he continued to punch and punch until I was nothing more than a sobbing mess on the ground. 

When his anger had finally settled down he gave me one last kick and left the room.  Michael had never been
that
violent before and it scared me.  I no longer knew what he was capable of.  I heard the front door close and his car start and after a few minutes I knew he was gone.  I knew I had to do something.  I knew I couldn’t keep living my life like this. 

Chapter 3

With shaky hands, I finally did what I should have done at the beginning of his abuse.  I dialed 911 and told them about my abusive relationship.  It was hard to admit that I had allowed myself to fall into it, that I hadn’t asked for help sooner but the 911 dispatcher sounded sympathetic and I was grateful for that.  She assured me that two police officers would be on their way and that I should stay put for the time being.  I did as I was told, praying Michael wouldn’t come back before the police arrived.

******

Sean and Carter sat in their police cruiser together.  It had been a slow day.  They had been inactive for the past hour and while they were glad the city was peaceful they were getting anxious for some action.  Suddenly a new assignment came in. 

Carter sighed when he heard that the assignment dealt with domestic abuse.  He hated low-life men who hit on women.  To him, they were the scum of the earth who picked on women just to prove their dominance.  It was sickening. 

“C’mon we have to save this poor girl, there’s no telling what kind of condition she could be in.”  Sean’s voice was full of compassion.  He was sincerely worried for this woman and prayed that she was okay.  Carter nodded and flipped on their police siren. 

Sean put the car into gear and shot off toward the given address.  He hoped they would reach the residence before the husband returned.  He hoped to get the woman to safety before anything messy happened.  With this thought coursing through his mind his grip of the steering wheel tightened and he accelerated just a little bit more. 

******

I remember sitting there.  I was hugging my knees and reciting prayers I hadn’t said since I was a little girl.  I thought of my mother and father then.  Were they looking down at me from Heaven?  I wasn’t sure, but I seriously doubted there was a God then.  If there was, why would he have let Michael abuse me?  Had I deserved it?

As I evaluated my life in this way a part of me started to blame myself for the whole thing.  Maybe it
was
my fault Michael was so angry.  Maybe I was a bad wife and I had caused this to happen.  I bit my lip and started to cry as the image of myself became bleaker and bleaker.  I hugged my knees tighter. 

I jumped suddenly when there was a knock on the door.  I was upstairs, but the hard knock was easy to hear.

“This is the police.  Please open up.”  The loud, gruff voice sounded through my home and with shaky limbs I got up.  As I walked downstairs, I passed a mirror.  I could see bruises already starting to form on my face and grimaced.  I wouldn’t be able to go to work for a while. 

“This is the police!  Open up or we will be forced to break down this door!”  The gruff voice called out again. 

“I…I’m… coming!”  I tried to yell out, but I felt like my voice was nothing more than a whisper.  I managed to reach the door before they broke it down. 

The two cops looked down at me and I could see pity in their eyes.  The dark-eyed one suddenly took me into his arms and whispered, “Oh you poor thing… c’mon let’s take care of you okay?  Do you have any serious injuries?”  His voice was sweet and compassionate.  I liked him already. 

I nodded and allowed him to lead me into the living room.  I didn’t like that they were going to keep me in the house.  I wanted to leave.  What if Michael came back?  What would happen then?  I was afraid, but I tried to stay calm as the officers looked me over for any major injuries.  They found none.

The dark-eyed cop sat down with me as the blue-eyed one disappeared into the house.  I didn’t know what he was going to do, but I figured it was a part of his job and let him be.  I looked at the dark-eyed cop now as he offered me a warm smile.  I wanted to take his smile and wrap it around my abused body, but I couldn’t. 

“I am Officer Sean O’Riley, may I ask you some questions?”  He asked, looking at me.  I nodded. 

“Good.  Thank you.  First off, who did this to you?”  I hesitated, but I knew I had to be honest.  I had already called the cops.  I had already condemned my husband. There was no point in defending him any longer.  I had to think of myself and my own happiness for once. 

“M…my husband.” 

“And is this the first time he has done this to you?”  Sean asked after writing down my answer.  I shook my head.  “How long has it been going on for?”  I thought back. 

“About a year at the earliest… but it’s been six months since he has gotten physical with me…”  My voice was low and depressed.  I didn’t like admitting this.  I felt ashamed I had let it go on for so long but when I looked into his warm eyes I was gratified to see he wasn’t judging me at all, instead he seemed to only sympathize with me.  I started to trust him. 

“And what happened tonight?”  I recounted the night’s events as best I could.  It had been blurry, but I managed to give him something he could work with.  A few more minutes passed as he asked me a few more minor questions.

“One last question:  Where is your husband now?”  I looked at him and thought for a moment. 

“I…I’m not really sure… If I had to make a guess… I would say he is at the bar… he goes there when he is angry…”  I picked at my nails in nervousness.  A part of me didn’t want to rat out my husband, but another part of me wanted to see him rot in hell. 

Sean nodded before grabbing one of the blankets on the couch and draping it over my shoulders.  “Anything I can do for you?”  He asked, a kind look on his face.  I took a moment now to look at him.  He looked Irish with his dark eyes, his dark hair, and his pale skin.  He had long hair that was wavy and full.  It looked soft to the touch and a part of me wanted to run my fingers through it.  He was definitely attractive.  I wondered if he had a family of his own and if they were worried about him, working as an officer. 

I shook my head and we continued to sit there. 

“By the way, I never caught your name miss.” 

“B…Brooklyn.”  I smiled softly at him and he smiled back. 

“I like that.” 

At that moment, his partner came back with an ice pack and a cup of tea.  I hadn’t heard him in the kitchen. He was quiet.  I was grateful, however, when I felt the warm cup of tea in my hands.  As I sipped the warm liquid he gently placed the ice pack on my temple, where I had received my most serious blow.  I winced a little. 

“I’m sorry… I know it must hurt, but it will keep down the swelling.”  His voice was gruff and more masculine than his partner’s. 

“Brooklyn, this is Officer Carter Mathews, he has been my partner for eight years now.”  Carter smiled down at me.  He seemed to be a gentle giant and I smiled back. 

“The house is clear, let’s just get her out of here.”  Carter looked serious as he looked at Sean.  His partner nodded, about to get up when there was a fumbling at the door.