Mrs. Huggins, my slave neighbor

“What do you want?” I asked.

“You cock,” Mrs. Huggins replied.

“Where?”

“In my asshole,” she purred. I sat in an armchair in her bedroom, the lights turn down low, and stared at her. She was on all fours, naked, on the bed with her fat ass directed at me. She stared at the headboard, instructed not to turn and look at me, and was still. Even in the dim light and through the moderately dense curls of hair I could see her pussy glisten.

Two weeks ago I had raped her. It was an animalistic, merciless act. And she loved it. A week after she had begged for me to come see her, to give her more. That night I snuck out of my parents’ apartment and into hers. We talked for a long time that night about what happened, how we felt, and where we’d go from there.

Mrs. Huggins talked at length that night about her life with Mr. Huggins. They had some great sex, which I already knew from years of overhearing the romps, and for the two years since his death Mrs. Huggins had been awfully lonely. What really struck me was her description of their sexual relationship and how I had so inverted Mrs. Huggins prior notions. As it turns out, Mrs. Huggins had been something of a bitch to her husband. Sure they fucked a lot, which is more than many married couples can say, but she had always taken advantage of his desires to manipulate him and give herself a sense of power. Mr. Huggins only used blowjobs as foreplay, never deep throated him, and only gave up her ass on very special occasions.

Now I was here, the first man in her life that wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Mrs. Huggins discovered she loved being subjugated.

“Show me how bad you want it,” I commanded. Mrs. Huggins slid her left hand over her ass and went straight for her hole. Her middle finger swirled the rim a few times before plunging in.

“Ooo, baby, I want it in my ass!” she cooed.

“One finger? Sure doesn’t look like you want it that badly.”

“Fuck, yes, I fucking want it,” she shouted as her first finger joined her middle. Her ass easily accepted two, making me wonder if all those years she was withholding anal from her husband she had been secretly exploring it by herself.

That night, a week ago, before our talk I had plowed Mrs. Huggins’ throat. Twice. The first time I simply walked into her apartment, grabbed a handful of her hair just as she tried to move in to hug me, forced her onto her knees and went to town.