It's Blackmail, Pure and Simple

From afar one might have mistaken the man gliding around the corner of the house for a burglar; his movements were rapid and quiet. One would have been wrong. The young man was an athlete, his steps rapid and silent. He wasn’t intent on some nefarious deed; quite the contrary, he was visiting his best friend’s home.

Johnny “Rocket” Johnson had been the star pitcher for his state championship baseball team. His catcher and best buddy, Byron McKenzie lived here. Johnny knew Byron wasn’t at home; he had to take a summer school class he needed to graduate. But Johnny’d left his ball glove in Byron’s bedroom the last time he’d been over. He had a game later in the afternoon and he needed to retrieve the glove.

There was a strange car in the driveway and Byron’s step-mom, Monica’s car was in the big three car garage. Usually Johnny just walked in, same with Byron at his house, but since Byron wasn’t at home Johnny rapped on the back door. No one answered. Johnny figured Monica and whoever else had left their car had ridden with another driver, probably some of the ladies getting together for shopping and lunch. No matter, Johnny knew where the spare key was hidden. He unlocked the door.

Byron’s bedroom was upstairs, Johnny went to his room, his glove was still lying on the window sill where he’d left it, he picked it up and was leaving the room when he heard a noise.

Johnny thought he was alone in the house but it was a moan he’d heard. The sound continued, he followed it to the master bedroom. Peeking around the jamb he saw a man and it damned sure wasn’t Byron’s Dad, on his knees in the middle of the bed. Monica was giving him a blow job.

Johnny ducked back out. Thank God for cell phones. He got his out of his back pocket and set it to vibrate; he didn’t want a ring to spoil his fun. Getting the camera ready, he peeked back in and got a picture then ducked back and checked the shot. The man’s face showed up but all he got was the back of Monica’s head.

In the mirror he could see her face, her mouth filled with cock. He photographed the mirror. That one came out nicely.

The guy moaned in ecstasy, from the sound it was evident he was cumming. God what a shot, he was shooting all over Monica’s face.

“Oh Baby, you’re the best,” Johnny heard.

He ducked back into Byron’s room; he thought the show was over: wrong.

A few minutes later he heard, “Oooh Harry, God damn Harry, you’re the best, you’re the best, aaah.”

Johnny snuck a peek. Harry was between Monica’s legs, licking her. Johnny could tell when he started sucking on her clit; Monica’s hips came clear off the bed as she wailed. Her orgasm had hit her and she was writhing, begging Harry to go on, begging Harry to stop. Finally, he moved up on her, she spread her legs in invitation and Harry slid into her vagina.

Johnny couldn’t believe his luck. He had photos of it all, Harry eating her, Monica’s fantastic climax and Harry entering her pussy.

Damn Johnny thought, I’ve got jerk off materiel for a year. Monica was a real MILF, hot as hot could be. She was thirty-seven, Byron’s dad’s trophy wife. They’d been married seven years. She was a tall woman, probably 5’8” or 5’9’” with long auburn hair and a body to die for, full breasts that still rode high, a narrow waist above flaring hips. Her best feature was her bottom, when she wore shorts Johnny had often admired, well truthfully, had gawked at her beautiful heart shaped posterior. Hell, all the guys had.

Monica could be a little stand- offish and snooty but who cared, they all liked to look. She was the major attraction in visiting Bryon.

The action was heating up down the hall, Monica was loudly letting the world know just how much she liked Harry’s cock and he was grunting with every stroke. Johnny took a couple more shots. Monica’s legs were over Harry’s shoulders, he was wearing that pussy out, really banging her.

Monica was a screamer; she raised the roof when she came. Harry grunted as he emptied into her.

Johnny was only sorry his camera didn’t have sound; still, he’d gotten a shot of her while she was cumming, and it was priceless.

Now he was sure the show was over, he was preparing to sneak out when he heard Harry whisper, “Monica, I want your bottom.”

Johnny thought, Christ, he’s gonna fuck her up that beautiful ass. He’d wait.

There was a creaking from the bed, he was afraid to look into the room but the mirror gave him a pretty good view. Monica had walked to the bathroom; Harry was waiting on the bed, stroking himself ‘til he was hard again.

Johnny used the mirror to get a shot of Monica handing Harry a tube of KY Jelly.

She got back on the bed and got on her hands and knees; she pulled a pillow under her head and lay on it, face down.

God, she was facing away from him, he took shot after shot of her. He could see her asshole and her pussy. Harry started lubricating her. Johnny took picture after picture, Harry rubbing her, Harry with a finger then two in her and finally Harry mounting her.

He put his feet outside her knees, squatted behind her and pushed in.

Monica moaned a loud, painful moan when he burst through her sphincter but Harry didn’t slow down. He was positioned for maximum leverage and he used it.

He mounted her and rode her like a wild beast, pistoning in and out of her with violent pounding thrusts. He was driving her face into the pillow.

Monica was crying and wailing, pleading, “Oooh Harry nooo, God, you’re splitting me, you’re killing me, nooo, nooo mooore, aaah, Harry, please, please.”

Johnny wanted to put the camera down and beat off, he was about crazy with arousal but he wanted the pictures more.

The way Harry was fucking her Johnny could see his balls slapping against her pussy every time he struck, he could hear the slapping of Harry’s hips against her cheeks.

Harry fucked her all the harder, he had her hips gripped, pulling her back to meet each driving penetration. Damn, he wasn’t only fucking her; he was stabbing her guts, stretching her ring and filling her rectum. At last Harry climaxed, he roared as his cum flooded her, and he continued pumping her finally slowing until he stopped. He was soft when he pulled out. Harry took a few moments to admire his work, Monica’s asshole wasn’t tight right now, it was red and gaping open with cum dripping from it. Johnny thought, now this would be my prize winning photograph if they gave them for porno. He got four or five shots of Harry’s cum leaking from her, down over her lips and onto her thighs.

Monica stayed on her hands and knees, she turned her head, Johnny got a nice shot of her face, and said, Harry, you’re a bastard, a right bastard, I think you’ve torn me, God you hurt me.

Harry patted her bottom, “No blood,” he said, “You’re not torn.”

“Damn you Harry, I won’t let you have my bottom next time.”

“Of course you will Monica dear,” he said, patting her, “You know your ass is mine.”

Harry walked to the bathroom and cleaned up. He came back and started dressing.

Johnny slunk down the staircase and out the door. He didn’t know who Harry was but he would, he shot pictures of his car and his license plate then realized, damn, he’d forgotten his glove.

He waited about thirty minutes after Harry had left then rang the doorbell.

Monica answered the door.

“Hi Monica,” he said.

“Oh it’s you Johnny, what do you need, Byron’s not here.”

“I left my ball glove up in his room and I need it, I’ve got a game today.”

She walked back into the house, she was stooped and holding her stomach, she said, “Go ahead and get it.”

“Monica, are you ok, you look like you’re in pain?”

“It’s just a tummy ache, I’ll be ok,” she said as she limped to a chair and collapsed into it.

Johnny got his glove and came back down.

“Monica is there anything I can do for you, anything I can get you?”

I would like a glass of ice water if you don’t mind.”

He got the water.

“Thanks Johnny,” she said.

“Hey, anything for you Monica, take care,” and he was out the door.

Monica thought, he’s a sassy little bastard, well not so little, Johnny was six four and weighed 205 pounds, but he’s still sassy and what did he mean by that last comment, “Anything for you Monica?”

She knew he looked at her, all of Byron’s friends did. Sometimes she liked to give them a little show. Shorts that gave her a camel toe, a tight bikini, no bra and an open top, things like that. She had fun teasing them, maybe she’d caused a few cases of blue balls, and she chuckled to herself. Damn, even that hurt. Harry, the miserable bastard had hurt her.

When he got home, up in his room with the door locked Johnny ran through the pictures. He had over forty but they hadn’t all come out. He screened them and deleted the ones he didn’t like. He still had twenty-seven great shots. He picked the one where Harry’s cum was leaking out of her and jacked off. He needed to get to his game. He’s look at them all more thoroughly later.

He transferred them to a flash drive. He wanted his phone with him but he wasn’t ready to share those pictures. He hid the flash drive and left for his game.

When he got home he showered and put on a pair of shorts and a pull over, flips flops on his feet and went back downstairs. His mother had dinner on the table.

He was hungry, there was roast pork, oven browned potatoes, spinach and rolls. He pigged out.

Back upstairs, his belly full but his mind wanting he locked the door and got the flash drive. He took the time to study each photo. Hell, Harry had a little dick compared to Johnny. But then, Johnny was pretty big, almost nine inches. There was some penis envy in the locker room; that’s where his nickname “Rocket” came from, not his fastball even though he had a good one of those too.

He played with his Photo Shop program, making an album of all twenty-seven shots. He considered uploading them to the internet then decided, why do that, why share, these were his and no one, least of all, Monica knew he had them.

He’d thought of them as beat off materiel but the more he thought about it the more the idea took shape. Why beat off looking at her pictures, Johnny would bet he could get a hell of a lot more than just a look with these.

There was no question there would be a divorce if Byron’s dad got hold of these, not only was Monica compromised but her lover would be identified, too. The grounds for that divorce would be infidelity and she’d be left in the cold.

Johnny printed up five of the pictures, nice 9 X 5 glossies and put them in an envelope. He’d go visiting tomorrow morning.

He had her giving the blow job, her climaxing as Harry ate her, the one with her legs over Harry’s shoulders, Harry lubing her ass and Johnny’s favorite, the dripping cum shot. He hoped she liked his selections.

The next morning he waited until Byron and his father had left then gave it another thirty minutes; Monica didn’t get up with the guys. He went in the back door and walked to the base of the staircase. He could hear a shower running; he went to the kitchen and made coffee.

Monica took her time; it was nearly forty minutes before she came down.

When she saw Johnny sitting at the table she demanded, “What are you doing here; you know Byron isn’t here, what do you want?”

She was standing back lit by the sunlight streaming in through the room, dressed in an Ivory colored robe of a diaphanous material, he could see the shape of her breasts with their dark tips, she had on panties but no brassiere. Johnny took a moment to appreciate her splendid figure.

Then he said, “It wasn’t Byron I wanted to see, it was you, Monica.”

“Johnny, I’m not real comfortable being alone here with you, what did you need to see me about?”

“It’s not really what I want to see you about; it’s more what I want you to see.”

He laid the envelope containing the pictures on the table. “I want you to look at these Monica, come over and look.”

She was hesitant and she had a bad feeling. She said, “What have you got, what do you want me to see?”

“Monica, I think you’ll want to look at these, I know it’ll be important to you.”

She walked over to the table. In his youthful haste he put his hand on her bottom.

She slapped it away saying, “What in the hell do you think you’re doing, Get out of here, get out.”

“Not until you’ve seen these, now look.”

He dumped the five photographs of the table face down.

She could tell that they were pictures and she started to tremble with fear, she suspected she knew what they contained.

She turned one face-up. It was of her sucking Harry.

Her knees felt weak, she was on the verge of a panic attack. She looked at Johnny.

In a voice that was soft it was nearly inaudible she whispered, “What do you want?”

She felt his hand under her robe on her bottom, he was caressing her cheeks.

He said, “Monica, I think you know what I want.”

“Johnny, please, don’t do this, you know it’s not right, please don’t.”

He continued to caress her, drawing her closer.

She didn’t fight him she just allowed herself to be led; she was in shock as she visualized her world collapsing around her. Benjamin, her husband would divorce her, there was no question, she wouldn’t get alimony and she had no marketable skills, she was a trophy wife whose job it was to be witty with clients and always beautiful.

She hadn’t even noticed that Johnny had pulled her to him and had his other hand inside her robe cupping her sex.

“Monica, no one else has to know, just you and me; our special secret.”

“I can’t do this Johnny, I just can’t.”

“Of course you can Monica. You had fun with Harry; you can have fun with me.”

“Johnny you’re a bastard, you know it.”

“Yeah, a right bastard, I think it was that you called Harry.”

Monica gasped, “You were here?”

“Oh yeah Monica, I was right outside your bedroom door. I only wish my camera had audio, I’d love to have your sounds when you cum, you’re quite a screamer.”

She drew back her hand as if to slap him.

“If you do that Monica, I’ll slap you back but you’ll be over my knees and I’ll be slapping your bare bottom, think about it, is it worth it. I don’t mind, I’d relish the chance to repay you that way.”

He still had both hands on her, he said, “I think you should look at some more of my pictures. Turn one over.”

She hesitated; he patted her bottom saying, “Turn one over.”

She slowly turned the second picture face up and her stomach roiled. She felt like she was going to suffer diarrhea her bowels were so water. It was the one where Harry had her legs over his shoulders.

“Not one of my favorites but still, a great shot, don’t you think?”

“Johnny please don’t do this to me, please.”

He took the elastic band of her panties and rolled them over her hips letting them fall to the floor.

She stood with her panties pooled at her feet, his finger slid into her slit.

Her knees were shaking, knocking together; she knew her life was over. She just stared at the picture, she couldn’t speak.

He’d never thought of himself as an evil person but what he was doing was evil. It was blackmail, pure and simple and he was having fun. He liked watching her as her defenses crumbled, one after another.

He said, “Our secret Monica, only we would know, not Ben, not Byron, nobody, just us.”

“Turn over one more. There are five, five I picked out as representative of my entire collection; you see, I have twenty-seven. Now, Monica I promise you, whatever you decide, I won’t tell Ben. No I won’t tell Ben but it won’t be just our little secret, I’ll load all twenty-seven on your Face Book page.”

Monica’s eyes began to leak; tears streaked her face as she stood mutely. Face Book she thought, Ben would see so would Byron, all of her friends, even her minister, oh God, the humiliation.”

Johnny prodded, “Turn one more.”

She thought it can’t get any worse; slowly she turned another face up. Oooh nooo, she thought, they’d all even know she’d done that. It was Harry lubricating her for anal sex; he had two fingers buried in her and a tube of KY Jelly in his other hand.

She nearly collapsed; she had to put her hands on Johnny’s shoulders to keep from falling.

“What do you want Johnny, quit torturing me, please stop torturing me, say it out loud, what’s the price?”

“Monica is Harry married?”

She didn’t answer.

“Monica, I want to know if Harry’s married, you can tell me or I can find out on my own.”

“You know he’s named Harry, that’s all you know, why should I involve him?”

“He comes every week, doesn’t he?”

She nodded yes.

“I want his day, I want you to break off with him and see me once a week, we’ll do everything you did with him.”

“Johnny you can have me, you’ve got me, it’s called blackmail but I can’t refuse you. You know I can’t. But I’m not going to tell on Harry.”

“I think you will but before we discuss that any further, turn over the last photo. If I’d been choosing I would have saved it for last. I think it’s my masterpiece.”

She turned it over. It was the most lewd example of pornography she’d seen. Her face was identifiable, she was turned yelling at Harry. She was calling him a right bastard because he’d hurt her but that wasn’t the half of it. Her bottom and vaginal area were on fine display, her anus was gaping open and Harry’s cum was leaking out.

She was going to be sick to her stomach; she knew she was, she’d never been under this kind of stress.

“Wonderful shot don’t you think, I think I should get a Pusslitzer Prize, you know, sorta like a Pulitzer but for the best porno shot of all time and you Monica are the star. Harry is really only supporting cast, still, he’s there.”

All she could say was, “Johnny please, no more.”

“There won’t be anymore, not of you not of Harry if we can make this our little secret, remember that.”

“Now tell me about Harry.”

“No damn it.”

“Remember I said I have twenty-seven photos?”

Monica could only nod.

“Monica, they aren’t all sex shots, most of them are but I’ve got a few others. I know anyone who knows Harry could identify him from the pictures, if fact, I’ve got a few where he can be identified but you can’t; if you make me track him down those photos will go to his wife. Besides, I’ve got shots of his car in your driveway and even one of his license plates. I think I can find out who he is. Wanna bet against me?”

It was more than Monica could take; her knees and her bladder failed her. She collapsed across Johnny’s lap and her urine streamed out of her, through the gusset of her panties, over Johnny’s grasping hand and down her legs to puddle on the floor under her. She was paralyzed, a full blown panic attack.