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Author Topic: The Butterfly Effect [Winner of March/April 2021]  (Read 533 times)

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Offline seeker

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The Butterfly Effect [Winner of March/April 2021]
« on: March 21, 2021, 11:51:25 AM »
                                                  The Bufferfly Effect

Disclaimer: This is fiction. Do not interpret it as anything else. This is a story with themes of non-consent, rape, reluctance and sexual manipulation.  The acts depicted in this story are criminal and are only acceptable in fantasy. If you are not interested in this type of story, please look elsewhere. All characters are eighteen at the time of this story.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

I’m standing at the alter next to my best friend, musing about how the smallest things can have the biggest impact – they call it ‘the butterfly effect’.  In my case it was a word puzzle.

            What can you hold in your right hand, but not in your left?

But I digress. Last Sunday was quite a day. I remember being mesmerised by the dappled shadows on the stone path, the morning sunlight shining though the spring foliage, gently agitated by the warm breeze. An unseen bird singing optimistically, undaunted by the lack of any response.

That encouraged me for the day ahead. I strode up to the familiar front door, entrance to a regular suburban house, standing in an unkempt garden, as if the inhabitants were too busy to worry about mundane things.

As I approached, the door opened revealing the large frame of my best friend, Mike Fitzpatrick, buddies since primary school.  Ruggedly good looking and lean, his easy-going character and family wealth ensured that he’d always had the prettiest girls. But today his face was contorted into an angry scowl.

“Hey dude? What’d I do?” I protested grabbing his hand and giving him a shoulder bump followed by a friendly pat on the back.

“Not you Dan. This.” He held up a baseball. “Some fucker put it through my window.” Pulling me into the lounge and indicating the site of the damage, shattered glass everywhere. “Did you see anything?”

“Nothing. Damn, that’s uncool.” I replied shaking my head. “Hey, Bonnie. What’sup?”

Crouching over the shards was a woman wearing a tight pair of denim cutoffs that seemed to disappear into her crack, revealing perfect globes attached to long, tanned legs… surely the image of many male fantasies. Bronwyn was stunning, whether going clubbing or doing domestic chores, luscious brown hair, bee-stung lips, striking features and a body to match.

“You can see what’s up. I’m cleaning.” She retorted, irritation flooding her words. “And Mike’s leaving in an hour… I’m gonna have to sort this shit out. By myself… the week of my wedding.” The death look aimed at her fiancé burned me too.

“Don’t stress. I’ll deal with it.” I put up my hands, defensively. “Give me a couple of hours and I’ll be back with glass and putty… Okay?”

“Thanks man. I owe you one.” An imperceptible roll of his eyes.

“No prob… I forgot you had business.” I smirked, knowing how much it must piss her off. “Lemme get out of your hair… see you later Bonnie.”

Two hours later I was putting the finishing touches to the mended window. Earlier, she had let me in before swanning off into the house chirping “Don’t make a mess.” No gratitude, just the suppressed antagonism I’d come to expect.

The year before, I’d met Bonnie through a mutual friend and had taken her on a couple of dates. It was fun, a hot vivacious girl flirting as if I was the only guy on earth. But despite trying, I never even got a kiss.

A week later I invited her to a party that Mike and I were throwing at our shared house, sexual intent in my mind. Unfortunately, at the last minute I was called away on a work emergency.

Long story short, Mike fell for her that night, I’m sure with a little inducement. He sheepishly told me a couple days later, asking my forgiveness for breaking the ‘guy code’, but arguing that ‘she was the one’ and so it was an exception. I guess he was right, because now they were getting hitched. As best man, I’d arranged the whole bachelor party, with… well you know…

What could I do? He was my best mate and he always got his way. It’s how it was and would always be. He could get me to do anything, even things I didn’t want to. Because he was awesome to be around. Burning the candle at both ends, living large, generously backing his friends and not caring about the consequences. Infuriating, impossible… but incredibly charismatic.

Those recollections and emotions swirled around in my head as I wandered down the passage towards my old room. It was Mike’s house, bought with dad’s money, that we’d shared. Until Bonnie had wanted to move in, and for me to move out.

And like that I was out on my ass, her shacked up with my best friend. I guess it was always going to happen eventually, but it still stung when he told me apologetically “Bonnie doesn’t think it can still work… us sharing.” And that was even before they got engaged… bitch!

I found her in my old room, converted to her ‘whatever’ space. Looking at herself in a tall mirror, her wedding dress pressed against her nubile body. A body that I’d never got to sample.  Smiling happily to herself, those full lips that I’d never got to kiss. Probably transported to the moment when she’d become Bronwyn Fitzpatrick.

Before that though, I had some unfinished business. I was beside her in two strides, grabbing her by the neck and pulling her face towards mine, smothering her mouth, my tongue worming through her pursed lips and over gritted teeth. Grasping her jaw, I squeezed it open, allowing me to plunge deep, to duel with her tongue, to dominate her, so she knew who was in charge. Her muffled shriek of surprise was stifled by my slavering kiss, a kiss that was a year too late.

She pushed her clenched fists against me trying to resist, fear and frustration making her body rigid. But I was too strong and too determined. I was not going to be thwarted now that I’d decided to even the score. I ripped the dress from her hand, so mine could twist under her tight white top, pushing it up to expose her succulent orbs, hardening nipples feeling like small pebbles against my palm, as I groped and mauled the soft flesh.

Again, she squawked futilely into my ravishing mouth and tried vainly to push me away as I slipped my hand down her flat stomach towards those tiny shorts. One button was all it took to give me access, sliding my hand down the front, fingers under the hem of her satin panties and across her bald mons until they squirmed into her crotch. I love a bald pussy and this one felt smooth and silky, like she’d prepared it just for me. I felt so in control, the rush of exhilaration flooding through my chest into my dick.

To my surprise I found her slit moist. Surely not for me and what I was doing. Probably the result of that little fantasy I’d walked in on. Well, I was going to give her something else to fantasise about…

But it wasn’t going to be fun for her, this was entirely about me, taking what I was due. The stuff of her nightmares. Her wetness would make it easier for me, her womanhood prepared and waiting for my plunder. She writhed on my finger, held at her neck and pussy, my tongue and fingers probing her orifices, taking my pleasure with her resisting body.

I wanted more, so without warning I released her and grabbed her spandex top, ripping it up over her head behind her neck, her shoulders pulled back and tits presented to me.

“Why are you doing this.” She panted, a stunned and horrified expression fixed on the blotchy redness of her flushed skin, matching the grope marks on her pale mounds.  I grabbed a nipple as she shuffled away from me, realising that I was no longer the accommodating best friend that she thought she could manipulate.

“Because this is what you deserve.” I snarled as I twisted her swelling bud, ignoring her piercing cry. “For choosing him. And trying to get rid of me.”

Ever since she had started dating Mike, the lovely alluring woman I’d met, had shown her dark side. Subtly working on Mike about my lowlife friends in my ‘biker gang’ and how I’d changed. Explicitly disrespecting me when he wasn’t around, hoping to push me away. I was never sure why she wanted me out; was she embarrassed about our past or did she have devious plans for her future?

I couldn’t get Mike to see it, his responses dismissive “Don’t worry, mate” or chuckling “She says you have the hots for her” or resigned “You know how chicks are…”

I’d had enough of her continual slights and niggling undermining. I was going to put a stop to it, right then and there. I’d show her I wasn’t some pussy that she could jettison. Things would be different going forward.

“Puh-please don’t… Dan, please…” She whimpered as I unzipped her shorts and shoved them down her toned thighs, still holding her in place by her pinched nipple. I was momentarily distracted by her engagement ring as her left hand flailed ineffectively, uncertain about whether to save her tit or hold her shorts.

I pulled up on the tender nubbin, making her rise up on her toes as her shorts dropped down her legs.  My other hand delved into her sex, the untanned triangle of her pussy contrasting delectably against her golden skin.  She looked even sexier on tiptoes, shorts around her ankles and her top trapped over her shoulders, covering nothing of importance.

“I should have fucked you when we met.” I growled, pushing her, shorts causing her to trip, landing hard on her back, sprawling awkwardly on the plastic covering of the wedding dress. What poetic justice…

I urgently released my captive cock, grown hard and impatient with the abusive foreplay. Unbuckling my belt and popping the buttons, I dropped my jeans, sinking to my knees, raging erection pointing angrily towards her.

“You can’t… No… I don’t… please, Dan… Mike’s your best friend.” She was mumbling desperately, her face ashen at my clear intent.

In a moment of pure depravity, I grabbed her left hand, wrapping her thin fingers around my girth, making her jack me off, her diamond ring sparkling brightly, as if unmoved by my betrayal of everything sacred.

I pulled her left foot from the shorts to spread her legs wide, labia gaping, inviting me in. Her miniscule white panties fluttered frantically around her right ankle, like a surrender flag pleading for clemency. But I had no mercy to give, leaning forward, poised at her flowering opening, ready to split her up the middle.

“NOOOOOOOHHHHH.” Her scream shattered the quiet of the room. Unconcerned, I wondered whether anyone would hear, or care. I’d had enough rough sex in that very room at the back of the house to know that no one would come to enquire about the noise.

Her cunt felt glorious as it slowly engulfed my shaft, inch after slow inch, swallowed up as her tight slick folds accommodated my relentless pressure.  Mike had told me that he was her first. Joking that despite how she acted, she had been virginal and had only given it up once they were engaged. It felt appropriate that I was her second, being his eternal wingman, sharing almost everything…

I pumped into her as tears welled in her eyes, lying there passive on her wedding dress, no longer resisting, like the fight had been sucked out as I sunk in. Her tears were like an aphrodisiac, spurring me on, a man possessed… by hate. I leant forward, licking those tears, relishing the saltiness of her disgrace.

My balls slapped her ass… my hips pounding her groin… the sounds merging harmoniously with my industrious grunts and her pained groans.

I didn’t last long and soon felt the familiar tingle in my nuts, a sensation I had enjoyed with many women in that room.  But this one was different…

Right at the end, I pulled out, grabbed her hair, hooked my thumb in her mouth, allowing me to stick in my sex-slimed cock. The experience of emptying my load into her receptive cavity was both satisfying and sublime.  I let her suckle my dick as it wilted, involuntarily cleaning me, forcing her to taste her defilement.

“Mike won’t believe you.” I taunted, staring into her vacant eyes, as I stood and pulled up my jeans. “And if I hear anything, I’ll be back with my friends, the ones you don’t like…”

I picked up MY baseball from the hallway table on the way out, recalling the answer to the riddle.

                 Your left hand

I might not be able to hold it in mine, but I no longer cared.
« Last Edit: May 01, 2021, 11:37:49 AM by Smirkin »
"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people." Karl Jung.

Offline Smirkin

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Re: The Butterfly Effect [Contest Entry]
« Reply #1 on: March 21, 2021, 01:26:56 PM »
OOOOOOOH how smooth that story was!  :heart: great job.

Offline vile8r1

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Re: The Butterfly Effect [Contest Entry]
« Reply #2 on: March 21, 2021, 04:54:55 PM »
Damn straight, seeker!  I was rolling that word puzzle around in my head the whole time I was reading, then I get to the end and see the answer.  Okay!  Good one!   Loved your defilement of Bonnie, knowing damn well she won't dare tell Mike. It all happened so fast, just the way I like it.

Offline Shocker

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Re: The Butterfly Effect [Contest Entry]
« Reply #3 on: March 21, 2021, 11:19:39 PM »
Another great story, this months competition shapes up to become a contest of the most talented writers here, plus my entry.

Offline QuarterPounder

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Re: The Butterfly Effect [Contest Entry]
« Reply #4 on: March 22, 2021, 12:06:14 PM »
Simply wonderful! Love every bit of the story and was brilliantly put together. :thumbs:

Offline CheerCaptain18

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Re: The Butterfly Effect [Contest Entry]
« Reply #5 on: March 23, 2021, 11:14:11 AM »
Wow, you write brilliant short stories too!

The efficiency of words you employed was beautiful, and yet you still packed a devious plot that left us twisting and satisfied to the very end.

Offline BiancaBlack

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Re: The Butterfly Effect [Contest Entry]
« Reply #6 on: March 28, 2021, 09:57:48 PM »
Sex slime is the best term for cum yet.

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Offline justvisiting

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Re: The Butterfly Effect [Contest Entry]
« Reply #7 on: April 14, 2021, 10:12:02 PM »
That was a great story.  Loved it!

 

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