Posts Tagged fiction

Sneaky Creatures

“Oh my God, that was fantastic!”

“Yeah”

“Amazing… so good.”

“Yeah.”

She put her beige bra back on, backwards, fastening the clasp over her sternum before spinning it around and manhandling each of her breasts back into the cups.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

“I know.”

“I’ll miss it.”

She kissed me on the forehead, a salty, wet kiss. My cock twitched involuntarily, heavy and wet between my legs. “We need to get back to work before anyone notices we’re missing.”

We slipped unobtrusively back into the office, and didn’t do it again for almost a year.

***

“Hey, got a minute?”

“Sure…” I looked up from my computer. She was standing in the entrance to my cube, hand on hip, and she had that look on her face. “Wait, really?

“Yes, really.”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of busy actually…”

“It’ll be quick… you don’t actually have to do anything.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“That’s my problem. Now come on. Five minutes, supply closet!”

I was, of course, there in two minutes. I closed the door behind me. It didn’t have a lock, but what are the odds that someone would barge in on us? Anyway, nobody had yet. So far we’d been very lucky. A large part of the thrill, for both of us I think, was how rushed and dangerous and naughty and furtive it all felt.

She had already removed her bra. Now she pulled her shirt off, revealing her breasts, large and shapely and beautiful. Her nipples stood out in excitement, mirroring the arousal of my own cock.

“Pants down,” she commanded. “Sit.”

I sat on a metal filing cabinet, and she got down on her knees and wasted no time at all, swallowing my erection, slurping up and down, caressing and stroking the shaft, squeezing my balls and then focusing on sucking the head while her tongue flicked at the underside and she furiously jerked me off, my cock well lubricated with her spit.

She briefly popped her head up. “Tell me before you come.”

I knew the drill, and she wasn’t wasting any time at all. We weren’t about prolonging the pleasure, a slow build-up to an amazing mutual climax, or the delicious agony of an extended edging session; this was all about instant gratification, nasty, quick and dirty.

“Now!” I half-shouted, half-whispered, “Now, please, right now!”

She stopped instantly, letting my obnoxiously hard, urgently swollen penis pop out of her mouth. Nobody in the office, I believe, would have thought that prim and pretty mouth capable of such filthy escapades. She hiked up her skirt, pulling cream-colored panties to one side, and sat down on my cock, engulfing me in her hot wet cunt.

She put her arms around me, pulling my face into her naked breasts, as she ground herself on my dick. “I love fucking your cock,” she said. She had told me this before, but I never got tired of hearing it. “My favorite part is feeling you come in my pussy. Later on I’ll rub your jizz all over my clit behind my desk, and I’ll get myself off thinking about fucking you, and nobody will even know…”

That was my cue. Humping back at her, lifting our combined weight off of the metal cabinet with my hips, smothering my cries into her big fleshy her tits, I came.

She stayed with me, rocking back and forth, slower now, until my cock was soft. She stood up, adjusting her underwear back into position, admiring my wet and slippery and much reduced dick. There was a gratifying stain on the front of her sensible panties. I ogled her body unabashedly as she got dressed.

“We really can’t do this anymore.”

***

Six months later.

She waited patiently for me to get off the phone. As soon as I hung up, it started ringing again. It was one of those days.

“Busy?” she asked, possibly ironically.

“No, not at all,” I said, ignoring the insistent bleating of the phone on my desk, never mind all the waiting texts and email messages. “But you are married.”

“I sure am,” she said. “And the sex” (she leered obscenely which was a jarring look on her normally wholesome, cherubic face) “is fantastic!”

“I really can’t this instant,” I said regretfully. “I’m swamped.”

“That’s ok,” she said. “I just wanted to invite you over. She wants to watch me with a guy. She’s curious. You just have to pretend we’ve never done it before.”

***

She met me at her front door wearing comfy-looking pink pajamas with red strawberries printed all over them. She stuck her tongue out at me, waggling her eyebrows like Groucho Marx. “Come on in!”

Her wife was lovely, but not at all what I’d expected. She was a big girl, in every sense of the word. She must have stood over six feet tall, and while she certainly was not fat, she was definitely a whole lot of lady. Curves for days. She had an unruly mop of curly black hair, she held a martini in one hand, a small blue vibrator in the other, and she wore a black silk kimono. I had the strong sense that she could kick my ass from here to next Tuesday if she was of such a mind.

She offered me a glass of water, which I accepted, and the three of us made nervous, awkward small talk for a very short while until her wife said, “I’m getting antsy, could we just fast forward to the main event?”

That sounded fine to me. She peeled off her pink pajama tops, revealing those gorgeous breasts, while I self-consciously proceeded to get naked.

“Sit down.” I plopped my naked butt down in an overstuffed paisley armchair. She got down on her knees between my thighs, and started licking my dick.

This wasn’t the urgent, frenzied blowjob I’d become used to; she was taking her sweet, sweet time. Across from us on the couch, her wife sipped her martini and switched on the vibrator.

She started by slurping up and down my erect cock like a big lollipop, and she looked absolutely adorable doing so. It was kind of nice to be able to admire her pretty face and her pretty tits, and to not be in a hurry to come and worried about someone barging in on us at any moment.

She licked, she sucked, she nibbled the underside, she flicked her tongue at the tip, she kissed it, she damn near swallowed the entire length at one point. It was bliss. Two things she did not do were establish a rhythm, or use her hands. It was bliss, but it was also exquisite torture. My dick strained and bobbed as she delicately kissed my dangling balls.

Her wife made a growling noise like a grizzly awakening from hibernation. “Damn, that’s hot!” Her kimono fell open, and I caught a glimpse of a lush black triangle of pubic hair.

She tugged my hands, and I found myself on all fours on the carpeted floor. She lay on her side beneath me.

The buzzing of the vibrator simultaneously became more intense and more muffled. “Fuck her face!”

Well, who was I to argue? With a smile, she parted her lips, and I took great pleasure in fucking her mouth like a pussy, shoving my cock in and out between those pretty, pretty lips. She did gag a little, and I did not stop.

One of her hands found it’s way to my ass, a wet finger pressed against my anus, gently but insistently penetrating me. It felt amazing. Beyond amazing. I could feel the excitement gathering in my balls.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Her wife was very obviously enjoying the show. “Don’t hold back! Come in her fucking mouth!”

I did not hold back. She was fingering my ass with at least two fingers now, molesting my anus with the rhythm of a hammer drill, skewering me deeper and deeper with every thrust of my hips. I had a hand on the back of her head now, my fist full of her lovely brown hair, and I was fucking her mouth hard and fast, approaching my climax like an express train on a downhill track. She coughed and gurgled, but stayed with me, fingers buried up to the knuckles in my asshole.

For once, I didn’t have to be quiet, and I took full advantage of that fact, baying out loud like a hyena, like a whole fucking troop of howler monkeys, coming in her mouth so hard that I saw stars and nearly blacked out. She stayed with me for the entire orgasm, sucking every last drop of semen out of my cock and swallowing it down.

“Oh fuck yeah,” her wife grunted. “That was great.”

Her fingers slipped out of my overstimulated ass, and my dick popped wetly out of her mouth. She grinned up at me, a wicked, wolfish grin that exposed all of her perfect teeth. She looked extremely pleased with herself.

Wife asked me if she could get me a drink or anything before I left, in a tone that suggested pretty clearly that my presence there was no longer required. I pulled on my clothes and used the bathroom, and left them, only slightly sorry that I wasn’t going to be allowed to stick around for the second act.

***

“Busy?”

“Not especially. But you’re a married woman.”

“That’s my problem, not yours.”

“It would be my problem if your wife finds out and decides to kick my ass.”

“She’s not going to do that. Come on. Supply closet. Five minutes.”

Five minutes later, I was in the supply closet, waiting for her. Five minutes turned into seven, and then eight. This was unprecedented. Finally she burst in, closing the door quickly and quietly behind her.

“Sorry, I got hung up.” She set her phone down on a shelf and slithered out of her brown slacks and her panties, kicking them to one side, and started unbuttoning her blouse. “The other night at my house was really fun,” she said as the frumpy floral blouse fell onto the tile floor, followed immediately by her sensible beige bra. “But I like being sneaky even better. Why don’t you lick my kitty a bit?”

I had never had the pleasure. She lay down on the cold tile floor of the closet, using her crumpled up heap of clothes for a pillow. “Get naked first. I like watching you naked.”

When I was fully undressed, I dived in between her legs, and was gratified to find her already very wet. Her taste was musky, feminine, and clean, and I took a lot of pleasure in eating her out, running my tongue up and down her vulva and exploring between her pouting labia, slurping up and down and in and out, before settling in to sucking her fat pink clit and tickling her pussy and ass with my slick fingers. She was very clearly enjoying what I was doing, and she was also very clearly having a very hard time keeping quiet about it, which was also extremely gratifying.

I came up for air, with a big smile all over my very wet face.

“Why don’t you lick me from behind?”

She rolled over onto her knees, with her shapely rump thrust right up in my face. I dove back in, licking her wet and juicy pussy while she fingered her clit. I flicked the tip of my tongue across her little crinkled anus, and she cooed and wiggled her hips. I took the hint.

I licked her asshole, insinuating my tongue into her tight little hole, licking up and down and all around it, while she furiously rubbed her clit. “If you keep that up,” she said, “I think I’m going to come!” I kept it up.

“Why don’t you stick it in my ass?”

“??”

“Right now. Your cock. In my ass!”

Apparently things were plenty slippery without any auxiliary lube, because I slid right in. “Oh yeah,” she hissed, grinding her clit hard and humping back against me. “That’s the stuff!”

We came together. That was another first. Neither one of use was able to keep very quiet as I exploded deep in her ass, and she clenched and shook and quivered through a long and drawn-out orgasm all over my cock. I guess we were just lucky that nobody heard us and came in to investigate. At some point, I suppose, our luck’s bound to run out.

We disentangled, sticky and oozing and flushed and all out of breath.

“I like sneaking around too,” I said as I hurriedly got dressed. It’s good to get lucky, but it’s also good not to push your luck too much. “But I also really liked it when your wife was watching us.”

“Oh, she’s watching alright.” She pointed at her cell phone, leaning unobtrusively on a metal shelf full of legal pads and post-it notes, tilted in our direction. “Wave at the camera!”

I waved, and her wife waved back.

As I left the supply closet, I felt like I was floating six inches above the floor. And maybe I was.

END

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Cobwebs

I knew it was a bad idea as soon as I pulled into the parking lot. Of course, I’d known all along that it was a bad idea. But now I knew for sure that it was a really bad idea.

There was only one other car in the parking lot, and it was not a baby blue Honda. There was a couple sitting inside it, and while it was unclear to me just what they were doing in there, I was reasonably sure it was nothing wholesome.

He texted me to let me know he was running late. I was still a little early. I was brought up to believe that ten minutes early was ‘right on time’.

It was called the Lenape Queen Hotel, but the big nicotine-yellow sign out front only said ‘Hotel’, and sported a softball-sized hole in the lower left corner through which you could see bare fluorescent tubes.

I checked the contents of my purse: condoms, lube, breath mints, Ativan, vibrator, bear spray. Set? All set. I stepped out into the night, the parking lot glittering with the reflected, refracted light of a million shards of broken glass.

The front desk girl at the Lenape Queen Hotel had her tooth pierced. Two of them, actually. Both her front teeth were conjoined with a narrow gauge steel loop with something that looked like a diamond but certainly was not, hanging from the ring on a short chain. There’s not a lot that will make me step back and say ‘Whoa’, but that did the trick.

She had full Egyptian cat eye makeup with huge eyelashes, pink hair, all black clothes, slasher pink lipstick. Her earrings were also remarkable, they were a character from horror films, like the Demigorgon or something from Dead by Daylight.

She gave me the key to room 237, and up I went. When I locked the door, I felt like the people outside were safer than I was. I didn’t dare check under the bed.

Nobody had broken into my car yet, and there was still no light blue Honda in the parking lot, although the couple who were ‘sitting’ in the car next to mine were still there. It was nine o’clock.

The couple in the room next door were arguing shrilly. I turned on the TV, it was boys high school wrestling. I sat by the window, at my double cheeseburger from Wendy’s, and drank a complimentary water. I didn’t change the channel, not because there was nothing else on; but because I’m a pervert.

I turned up the volume of the TV, but that didn’t drown out the antics from the next room. It was unclear to me whether those ‘antics’ were consensual or not. From somewhere nearby, the acrid scent of crystal meth seeped into my room. I pulled back the comforter. There were cigarette burns on the sheets.

The woman next door was now getting either vigorously murdered, or fucked, or both. I looked out the window. My car was still intact. No new messages on my phone. I decided to cut my losses and check out.

Mouthful of Metal at the front desk accepted my key back without comment or apparent interest. Her pupils were pin pricks, and Dr. Phil chattered mutely on the TV set in the lobby.

No blue Hondas pulled in as I traversed the parking lot, past the smoke-filled sedan, and into the safety of my own vehicle. Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed a lonely aria.

Disappointment has a bitter aftertaste. I had really been looking forward to getting some illicit dick tonight. As I navigated unlit, unfamiliar secondary roads, I fumbled with my cell phone and dialed Ali.

Ali is a taxi driver, and one of the most beautiful male persons I have ever met. He is slender, lithe as a willow, with dark skin that is almost translucent, eyes like a doe, soft and brown, and a mop of soft black hair. His dick is perfect in every way, and tastes of Persian spice.

He loves getting his dick sucked, which works out pretty well, because I love sucking it. The first time I saw his cock, I thought it was shaved bare, but it turns out that cock and balls have an almost invisible pelt of very soft, fine, well-coiffed black hair.

Ali’s cock is the absolute perfect size for fucking, but I will never find out, because he considers fucking, or in fact any kind of reciprocation, adultery. I am, however, welcome to suck him off whenever the opportunity arises, and when I’m on my knees with a mouth full of Ali’s dick, listening to the moans I am making him make, playing with his balls  tickling his tight little anus, I am a very happy girl indeed.

His phone rang six times, and then a woman answered. His wife. I hung up, and concentrated on navigation.

One time Ali and a friend of his got a hotel room together, a lot closer to home. His friend really wanted to fuck me up the ass, and I was quite willing. Slightly less enthusiastic when I saw the size of friend’s monster cock, but I was still willing to give it a go.

I played with Ali’s dick while his friend played with my butt. His tongue felt absolutely amazing, and his slippery fingers felt nice too, as he probed my ass. I could have used a little attention paid to my clit and/or cunt, but I certainly wasn’t complaining, and I was thoroughly enjoying licking Ali’s beautiful erection, and the look of pleasure on his face: watching me getting my ass eaten out really turned his crank. And mine too, for that matter.

Actual penetration, however, was just not happening. Even drenched in lube, even after two or three fingers up my ass as a warm-up, that thing was not going in. The trying felt really nice, I gotta say, feeling that monster log bumping urgently up against my anus like a baseball bat, doing the slippery slide between my butt cheeks, up and down my ass crack, that made me gurgle with pleasure. It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying, I was grinding back against him just as hard as he was attempting to spear me, but it wouldn’t even start to go in.

I wouldn’t have been opposed to giving my cunt a chance to try, although I was a little dubious on that front as well, but apparently Ali’s friend had ethical qualms about fucking vaginas that didn’t belong to his wife. So I ended up giving him an old-fashioned white trash titty fuck, and had the pleasure of him coming all over my neck and chin, while Ali jerked off into my open mouth. And that, my friends, was the closest I have ever come to a bona fide threesome.

At last I saw a sign for the Turnpike. God Damn. Navigating the onramp one-handed and distracted, I sent a quick text to my friend Lisa in Minnesota: “Hi”.

I didn’t really expect to hear back, and I didn’t. Lisa and I had been friends in college, nigh onto twenty years ago, and had reconnected through Facebook, and six months ago we had a brief but extremely torrid sexting affair. Admittedly, I had done most of the heavy lifting, but she had engaged just enough to keep me interested, and to let me know that she was into it. I spent many happy hours on my phone, typing with sticky, slippery fingers, telling her in great detail all the things I had wanted to do to her in college, and a few that I didn’t even know about at the time. I told her how I had jealously lusted after her breasts from the first time I saw her, and how I always used to barge into her dorm room in the hopes of catching her in her underwear. I confessed that I had always wanted to join her in the semi-public dorm shower. I told her how I had fantasized about sneaking into her dorm room at night and joining her in the bunkbed beneath her oblivious, sleeping roomie. I told her how I masturbated at night, dreaming of licking her pussy, licking her clit, licking her asshole. I told her that I imagined sucking her tits, with two fingers in her cunt and two in her ass, feeling her shake and listening to her moan as I made her come. I told her my fantasy about fucking her, deep and hard, by moonlight in the middle of the quadrangle. I told her how I wanted to pull out her tampon with my teeth, taste her period blood, how I wanted her to grind her swollen, menstrual cunt all over my face until she orgasmed all over me. I confided in her how I wished I could suck fresh semen out of her cunt, her mouth, her asshole. I told her how I wanted her to piss into my mouth, and I would kiss it back to her, our wet tits pressed together like a foursome of slippery otters.

At some point I must have taken it too far, because she mostly stopped answering my texts. Not completely though, because occasionally I got a ‘hey’ or a ‘hi there sexy’ back, and that was enough for me to keep on trying.

On the Thruway, I pulled down my jeans and set the cruise control for 74mph. I probably should have done that in the opposite order, but I wasn’t exactly thinking straight at this point. In any event, my car found its lane, and as the road was straight and there was not traffic, I was able to shimmy out of my one and only pair of sexy black lace panties that I had worn special for the night’s festivities.

I fished the vibrator out of my bag. I had plenty of joy juice going on, so I didn’t need to apply lube, which was good, because that was one less complication that might well end up in a fiery heap of twisted metal on the side of the highway. I held the steering wheel between my knees, and pressed the buzzing toy up against my swollen clit, half closing my eyes, and moaning into the night.

There is something about a moving car, a running engine, that seriously turns my crank. I had jerked off to the idea of me and Lisa doing a 69 in the driver’s seat while doing 85 down the freeway, a fantasy that ain’t happening until I can afford a Tesla. Or, upon reflection, probably not at all. I had once sucked Ali off while he was driving his taxi in heavy city traffic, but while enjoyable, it really wasn’t really the same rush at all. Perhaps, however, he’d be willing to drive while I 69’d some willing individual next to him in the passenger seat; now there was an idea worth exploring.

The night was pitch black except for the occasional glare of oncoming headlights. My clit felt ready to explode. Maintaining enough concentration on driving with my knees while keeping the business end of the toy right on my clit, all without swerving into the guardrail and crashing and dying was a huge component of the thrill.

I flipped down the vanity mirror, further obstructing my view of the road, and adjusted it so I could see my own cunt. The labia were purple and swollen, pouting out like a rosebud. I pulled back the hood, exposing my engorged clitoris. Everything gleamed with slippery wetness. I tugged my lips wide open, until I could see all the way up the entrance of my own vagina. I don’t know about the rest of me, but my pussy is extremely pretty. I should have been a fucking porn star.

I blew past a speed trap, but I either wasn’t driving fast enough or erratically enough to catch the trooper’s attention, thus avoiding possibly the most embarrassing traffic ticket in history: “…and, er, what seems to be the problem, officer?”

Still I couldn’t quite push myself over the edge, not without shutting my eyes and humping my hips and completely losing control of the vehicle, so I dangled on the precipice of orgasm for fifteen or twenty pleasure-filled miles.

My cunt was famished though. Digging with one hand through the random junk in the console bin between the seats, I came up with a pair of candy canes left over from Christmas. How jolly! They were still shrink-wrapped, thank goodness, no yeast infections for me, though truth be told in my current state I would have jammed their naked sugary goodness straight up my twat anyway, consequences be damned.

In any event, the festive and hygienically sealed sugar sticks slipped easily up my cunt, and my pussy purred with pleasure. With my left hand I fucked myself, my right hand buzzed away at my clit, my knees somehow kept us on the road, and that combination was just enough to trigger the most intense, screaming, blinding, earth-shattering orgasm I had had in a long time!

I settled down and got my hands on the wheel just in time to swerve violently and make my exit. The driver’s seat was soaked through, but honestly I liked that it was stained with my pussy juice, and next time I drove my car, I would stop and sniff it before I got in, and that would get me turned on all over again. I didn’t bother pulling up my pants until I had pulled into the driveway and come to a complete stop.

I could hear my husband’s irregular gurgling snore as soon as I entered the house. I took a quick half-shower, popped an Ativan, and a couple Benadryl too for good measure, and slipped into bed next to him. The snoring paused, he grunted contentedly, and squeezed me with one hefty arm, kissing me clumsily on the forehead. I rolled over, closed my eyes, and let sleep wash over me like a rising tide.

END

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The Invertebrate’s Dilemma

I had just gotten home when I got a text message from the boss, so I ignored it. Fuck him. I was the head of the Zippers and Closures department, which is much less impressive than it sounds, especially considering that I’m the only employee in the department. I had to decide what to make for dinner: a box of Organic Vegetarian Black Bean, or Portabella soup? My job was also not especially remunerative.

He was a pretty hands-off boss. I think he’d inherited the company from his dad. He had been on-site today, and had deigned to breeze through my department. My “department”, I should say in quotation marks, because the Zippers and Closures Department seriously consists of my desk in an appropriated storage closet.

So, by the time I had selected the Portabella Soup, and decanted it into a pot and turned the heat on under it, I finally got around to reading the boss’ text.

HE WAS MOTHERFUCKING ASKING ME OUT.

I hope this isn’t inappropriate, BUT… Would you like to have dinner with me, tonight, at the Basil Leaf, say, 7:30?

Fuck yes I would.

I had of course fantasized about him, flirted with him, even masturbated to him.  But he was way out of my league. So far out of my league it hadn’t ever occurred to me he might possibly even be interested.

And the time now was… fucking fuck, 6:45?? I’d never been to the Basil Leaf; it, like my boss, was way out of my league. It was supposed to be pretty amazing. For a suburban Italian joint. I took the world’s fastest shower and brushed my teeth. I picked out a pair of sexy, lacey, skimpy black underpants, and wedged myself into that Red Dress. You know, the one that I would fit into by next summer, IF I lost ten pounds?

And then I got my ass out the door and onto the road, because this department head was going to have a fancy dinner and some horny casual first date sex with her boss tonight. Goddammit.

There was traffic, of course, and by the time I arrived, it was already 7:40. The sign said, “Closed for Private Event”, but the parking lot was full enough that I had to park out by the coyotes.

The place was packed, and I felt extremely self-conscious. I hate being late. But the maître d’ welcomed me effusively and ushered me through the crowded room to a two-top on a raised dais in the very center of the dining area. “The Sir is running a bit late,” he told me. “But he assures me he will be with you very shortly. In the meantime, would the Miss care for a drink, and perhaps an appetizer?”

Why yes, I would like a drink.

The maître d’, who stood seven feet tall and had the hollow cheekbones, sunken eyes, and ashen complexion of a three-day old cadaver, brought me a tall (and extremely expensive) glass of red wine while I perused the menu. Holy mackerel, a dinner here would cost me a month’s rent! And then some!

The maître d’ shuffled apologetically back to my table with a basket of bread, and informed me that “Sir regrets to inform me that he is still running late, and desires that you order without him.”

Well, fuck him. I ordered scallops over angel hair, with a side salad, and another glass of wine. It was delicious, and I felt only slightly self-conscious eating alone in the middle of a crowded roomful of people.

The cadaverous maître d’ returned to my table with what I assumed was the dessert menu. I was already contemplating the tiramisu. “With your permission,” he intoned, “Sir desires that you be cleansed and purged prior to his arrival.”

Well, ok then.

I became aware that my table was gently lit with a tasteful trio of spotlights, illuminating me for the rest of the restaurant to see. Self-consciousness and visceral horny lust boiled up inside me, battling for my libido like an acid and a base poured into a tumbler and shaken not stirred. When a new server showed up, a skinny girl who looked like she had just turned eighteen, wearing a slinky black dress that did very little to contain her large and free-floating boobs, my self-consciousness slunk back into a corner, and lust won out. For the moment.

She had a pretty page-boy haircut, too much eye make-up, and a glance at her hands made me think she might actually be much older than I had initially thought. She carried a large galvanized steel bucket full of sudsy water, and a loofah. A train of white-aproned assistants followed her bearing towels, sponges, and other accoutrements.

The table was cleared off quick as lightning, and the tablecloth whisked away. “You’re sexy,” the girl whispered privately in my ear, “Really and truly, you’re sexy as all fuck.”

She helped me out of my red dress (no mean feat!) to a smattering of applause. My panties came off next, I was obscurely glad that I had shaved, and I found myself kneeling naked on top of the bare wood of the gently illuminated table. I felt like I was glowing, with the radioactive heat of the lust building up inside my cunt. I could feel every eye in the place examining my naked body, and I did not dislike the sensation. Not one bit.

 My wrists and ankles were gently but firmly placed in restraints and secured to D-rings discreetly inset into the tabletop. “It’s just temporary,” she whispered in my ear. “It’s better this way, trust me.”

My tits hung pendulously down, as did my gut. My rump was thrust up in the air. I felt naked beyond naked, vulnerable and exposed. Which, I’m sure, was exactly the intent.

My cunt, by the by, was totally into this: it felt swollen and juicy and wide-open, and my clit felt like a an enormous marble, swollen and desperate for stimulation. My asshole winked at the crowd “Hey, I’m up here too!” Apparently I was into this.

The girl wrote something down on a tiny piece of paper, and slipped it into my handbag. “Look me up later,” she said with something that might or might now have been a shy little smile. “For now, just try to relax.” She was unfolding a crinkly package and putting on sterile purple gloves. “I’m serious.”

Working quickly, she painted an antiseptic substance up and down my cunt, and then dipped surgical tubing into a packet of lube. “Breathe out,” she commanded, and then deftly inserted a catheter straight up my pisser.

It didn’t exactly hurt, but holy cats it was uncomfortable. And deeply embarrassing. Yellow urine immediately filled the line. As soon as the urine reached the bag at the far end, she clamped the tube so no more urine could exit my bladder.

“There,” the girl said, satisfied with her work. She pulled off the sterile gloves, and replaced them with an industrial yellow pair that looked like the kind you might scrub toilets with. I had a bad feeling that I knew what was coming next, and I must have whimpered audibly.

“Hush now,” she said, gently patting my butt, “it will all be over soon.”

She smeared lubricant all over my anus, and before I had a chance to fully process what was about to happen to me, another tube was inserted straight up my ass. It had a large bulb on the end, and the girl had to struggle with slippery fingers to get it past the gateway of my clenching anus. She was relentless though, and soon enough it was nestled inside, and then I was being filled to the brim, filled to the point of bursting, filled to practically overflowing, with gallons and gallons of warm, soapy water.

Oh, God.

The urge to evacuate quickly became so strong that it overrode any sense of shame that might have remained, lingering in some corner of my soul. I needed to shit, to blow out my bowels, audience or no, and an inflated plug in my ass was preventing it. I moaned out loud, and my body shook in desperation.

“Here,” she said, “Swallow these.” She placed a pair of lavender lozenges in my open mouth, and I hastily swallowed them down, desperate for some, any, relief.

I was allowed to stew like that for just a moment, my misery on full display of the crowded restaurant. I was conscious, just barely, of being incredibly sexually excited, more physically turned-on than I could remember ever being, not since I had first discovered the joy of kinky carnal pleasures in the back seat of Jamie-Lee’s hastily parked Honda Civic so many years ago.

But the moment was fleeting. My stomach cramped like it had been hit head-on by a freight train, and a wave of nausea washed over me that was the furthest feeling from sexy imaginable.

“Hold it in,” the girl admonished me, “Just for a second more.”

I struggled, cold sweat beading up on my forehead, gasping in air as my insides cramped and heaved. It seemed like ages, tens of minutes, though in retrospect I doubt she left me hanging more than thirty seconds.

Just in time, she placed an empty bucket in front of me, and I vomited out a fifty-five dollar serving of scallops and angel hair. The relief was indescribable, and she gave me a tall glass of mineral water to drink and clean out my mouth with, which I promptly puked up as well.

After throwing violently up, emptying everything and then some out of my stomach, a wave of euphoria washed over me, something like I imagine a heroin rush must feel like. I felt the girl unstrapping my wrists, and strong hands pulling me into an upright position.

A galvanized bucket was shoved roughly in between my legs. At the same time, the catheter up my urethra was deftly extracted, and the plug in my tortured asshole was yanked out. I exploded.

Humiliating isn’t even the word. As the whole restaurant watched, a torrent of brown water, piss, and raw sewage violently exited my body. Oh the sounds! The awful sounds! The smells! It seemed to go on and on. But the humiliation was nothing compared to the sweet, sweet relief I felt as my body emptied itself. My ankles were released, the foul bucket rushed away, and I wept as I collapsed onto the tabletop.

Firm, gentle hands washed me with hot water and honey-scented soap, scrubbing every inch of my body, rendering me clean and pink. I was toweled off and left, a quivering mass of very clean jelly.

Lurch, the maître d, cleared his throat. “The gentleman regrets to inform me,” he intoned, “That he will be unable to attend this evening. He hopes that you will accept these in his stead.”

The cute girl with the big, perky tits and the pageboy haircut stood by the table, holding a highly polished silver platter in one hand. On the platter stood three large, extremely realistic silicone dildos. They were totally identical except that they were each marbled a different color. I’m guessing that they were exact replicas of the boss’ penis. Although my experience with men is that they tend to exaggerate just a tad.

Now, as a girl who likes cock –a lot— and who prefers a nicely shaped Medium, these things were on the Dear Lord size of Extra-Large.

There was almost no preamble. She slathered lube all over one of the toys, and in one smooth movement, shoved it right up my ass. The restaurant collectively gasped.

“Open wide dear,” she said, and stuck the blue-and-white dildo into my mouth. I was almost too surprised to gag. A harness of some sort was slipped over my head to hold it in place.

The last dildo went up my cunt, which was plenty wet and slippery, but a mighty tight fit with the other monster cock up my asshole. It went in though, and it didn’t feel bad one in there my friends, no not at all.

There was a buzzing noise, and she applied the tip of a small but powerful chrome-plated vibrator to my engorged clitoris, fucking my cunt with the dildo at same time. I swear, I didn’t take but two seconds, and I was coming, shooting off like a sixteen-year old boy in the back of a parked Honda. My climax rolled through me, hard and furious, my body shaking all over and maybe even squirting a big, drooling and gagging on the silicone cock in my mouth as I railed through wave after wave of orgasm. She kept the tip of the vibrator pressed against my clit until I collapsed, weeping piteously.

Applause filled the room, and somewhere on the very edge of my consciousness I was aware of it, and strangely gratified. I was washed and toweled off a second time, competent hands helped me back into my red dress (but not my panties), and after a rather epic struggle with the zipper up the back, I was summarily escorted out through the crowd of diners, head spinning, knees wobbling, barely conscious.

Not even an after dinner mint.

More or less the next thing I knew, I was sitting on my ass on the asphalt of the parking lot, next to the dumpsters, breathing the night air, feeling the night air on my sore and naked cunt, and wondering what the fuck had just happened to me.

I had to rub another one out right there with my fingers before I returned to my car and drove home, hands trembling the whole way.

A pot full of completely ruined, burned and blackened portabella soup was waiting for me, but I didn’t care. I put the pot in the sink to soak, and went straight to bed, and I don’t think I’ve ever slept better in my life.

The next day, nothing was different at work, but that Friday my paycheck was significantly bigger than usual, and I thought I had an inkling as to why.

A few weeks later, I got another text from Boss, apologizing for standing me up, and asking if we could try for dinner again, at a different fancy restaurant this time.

I typed back ‘Sure’. But I didn’t hit the Send button. Not just yet anyway. I already had a date.

END

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How to Not Make Friends or Influence People

1.

My landlord, who normally wouldn’t lift a finger to fix a flood or a collapsed roof, hired some carpenter to spruce the place up for the next tenant as soon as I gave notice, and he turned out to be absolutely smoking hot! Tall and slinky, high forehead, brooding brown eyes, big strong working hands, farmer tan, fading low-quality tattoos, dirty blue jeans… oh my, I’m already drooling. And the way he looked at me made me melt. It was like he was in the meat aisle, looking for a steak to grill, and I was that choice cut of beef. He was Absolutely No Good Whatsoever, and when he suggested I come over and check out his tiny house, I couldn’t say “Fuck Yes” quickly enough!

It was a very tiny house, but it seemed bigger inside than out. He’d built it himself. Custom trim. Expensive-looking guitars. Expense-looking cowboy boots. A TV cabinet that was carved mahogany and that had sphinx women with bare titties on the front of it.

And a pair of handcuffs hung above the bed, which was all in one room with the stove and the couch and the kitchen table because it was a tiny house.

I looked around and smiled. There was a platform under the bed, which was raised up high enough for there to be a body under there.

“You’re easy,” he said. With just a hint of a smirk. He was a Bad Man.

He was a Bad Man with a beautiful body. Lean like a predatory animal. Hard in all the right places. Stubbly cheeks, big strong calloused hands. Workman’s hands. He worked me over with all the care and tenderness he would use for ripping down a 4×8 sheet of CDX plywood.

His idea of foreplay was to jam my head down on his cock. And I was ok with that. More than OK.

He had a nice big fat cock, just the kind I like best. Not a monster cock, thank goodness because he was not shy about cramming that thing straight down my throat, airway or no; and it wasn’t a small penis, also thank goodness!

I coughed and gagged and did my absolute fucking damnedest to pleasure him, and I think I did a pretty good job of it too, from the sounds he was making, and the vigor of his thrusts, and the way his fists clenched my hair.

When he finally yanked his dick out of my mouth, I collapsed onto the floor. I dry-heaved a little bit. My tits were hanging out because he had torn my shirt straight down the middle and pulled my bra halfway down during our initial tussle.

He laughed at me, towering above me like a Tolkien giant, lifted me bodily up and deposited me in his bed. He leaned down as if to kiss me, but instead spit into my open mouth.

He pulled out a knife: a big, jagged curved blade, looked like it was made for gutting sharks, probably illegal, and I shrank with fear. Was he going to choke me, dismember my body, dump the cut-up pieces into the lagoon? Have I mentioned that I was wet, sopping wet, big dark damp spot visible all over the crotch of my pants? He laughed at me again, and deftly cut the remainder of my clothes off, leaving me naked and vulnerable and whimpering.

His eyes were fixed mockingly on me as he stepped out of his work-stained blue jeans, and rolled a condom onto that beautiful cock. I spread my legs, feeling nakeder than I had ever felt before, and he impaled me with a grunt. I was wet enough that the invasion didn’t hurt, not one bit, but I kind of wished it did.

He fucked me hard, without mercy or thought for my pleasure. He started out holding his scary knife blade up against my throat, as it seemed to amuse him to watch me whimper with fear, but that quickly went by the wayside as he got more excited and abandoned himself into the act of fucking the shit out of me.

Normally I can’t come without a lot of clitoral stimulation, and I was already looking forward to replaying this whole scene slow-motion in the comfort of my own bed, with my big, 120 volt ac vibrator cranked up to 10. But Ye Gods, this fucking guy! He pulled his cock out and flipped me over, hoisted me up onto his knees, and slammed his cock back inside. “Make me come, bitch!” he barked, “Make me fucking come with your cunt!” I was more than willing to oblige. I wiggled my ass and humped back up against his thrusts with all my might, and as he grabbed a big handful of my hair and yanked hard, I felt it building up inside me.

“You fucking slut!” he snarled, and without warning he cruelly jammed a long wet finger up my asshole. We both came hard, at the same time, snarling like a pair of mating mountain lions.

He offered to loan me a pair of pajamas to drive home in, but I preferred to make do with my own torn and shredded, come-stained clothing. I was absolutely going to be instant-replaying with my Hitachi, the moment I got in the door.

He looked oddly vulnerable there in his tiny living room, his dick small and soft now, a little bit of a beer belly, helping me gather up my things.

“No,” I said, “You’re the easy one.”

2.

Spring days are nice around here, especially when you don’t have to work, especially when you have a few dollars in your pocket, and your cunt is still pleasantly sore from the encounter you enjoyed the other day, the one that left you with cuts and bruises, and makes your clit swell and tingle just thinking about it.

I was sitting out on the square, at a small table with a big fat latte, across the way from my former place of employment, watching the people go by, or more specifically, ogling the hot guys and their bulges and their butts, as well as the occasional female T&A that the unseasonably warm spring weather had unleashed like early blossoms. I was squeezing my thighs together, giving myself cheap thrills, thinking about the adventure I had had, and imagining more to come, and contemplating going home and getting serious about some hard-core masturbation, when I noticed Megan, me ex-coworker, sitting on a bench with her new boyfriend.

It wasn’t that I disliked Megan for any good reason; I just couldn’t stand the prissy little bitch. I had hated her from day one, and to make matters worse, she had always been extremely friendly and polite, and had gone out of her way to be nice to me.

She had mentioned him in the office the other week, this new guy she had met through whatever app the kids are using these days, and how he was really cute and super nice, and really shy, and blah blah blah, see, isn’t he adorable? I asked if he had sent her a dick pic yet, and she just laughed like I was joking, but I really wasn’t.

Now that I saw him, across the square, I wanted him to send ME a fucking dick pic! He was a dreamboat, way too cute for the likes of Megan. They were all over each other on the park bench, in the most G-rated, cutesy-poo sort of way. It made me faintly nauseous. Look at them holding hands, they look like they should be on the Hallmark channel together. I wondered if she had even seen his dick yet. I bet she hadn’t.

They said their goodbyes –she had to get back to the office, I knew—and it was all so cloying sweet it nearly put me into hyperglycemic shock. She kissed him on the fucking cheek, and waddled away, her ample ass casting a shadow like a solar eclipse. He watched her leave with a winsome, longing look on his face: if she hadn’t seen his cock yet, she was going to soon!

I fished in my handbag, and popped a couple of Xanax for courage. Or maybe they were lorazepam, or clonazepam, or vitamin D, I really don’t know. They wouldn’t kick in for at least half an hour, but they made me feel braver, and that was really the point. I picked up my oversized overpriced coffee and strolled, as casually as a Klingon Bird of Prey, over to the bench where he was now sitting all alone. The lamb.

“Hi, do you mind if I sit here?” Light and fluffy as a passing cloud, I didn’t wait for an answer but slipped directly onto the bench, making damn sure my thigh was pressed up against his.

“Um, no not at all, go ahead!” he was clearly non-plussed, which made him even cuter.

My hands were shaking, I hoped against hope I didn’t spill my coffee on him. My heart was racing. I couldn’t wait for the Xanax or whatever it was to start kicking in. To say this was out of character for me was like saying my pussy was a little bit wet.

“Isn’t it beautiful out today?” I pressed my thigh conversationally against his. It may have been my imagination, but I think he made a little squeak.

“You know what I like doing on a nice sunny afternoon in spring?” I licked my lips as suggestively as possible, which I thought was pretty suggestive, and I lay my hand down on his thigh.

“I, um, I have a girlfriend,” he stuttered. Oh my god, he was so cute I could just eat him up!

I advanced my hand onto his crotch, where I discovered that sure enough, he was hard. Good. Either the pharmaceuticals were kicking in, or I was getting high off my own endorphins.

“Oh yeah?” I gave his cock a friendly squeeze through his slacks. “Are you engaged? Engaged to be engaged?” I was petting it now, like a kitten, and I could feel it straining up through his pants. The pleasure that gave me was sublime. “Let’s go for a walk,” I said, “And you can tell me all about her.”

I took him by the hand (his palm was soft like a girl’s, and moist and sweaty, and he gripped my hand like a life preserver. I led us in front of the office where I used to work, on the off chance that Megan would happen to look out the window and see us walking past, hand-in-hand. The odds were against it, but a girl can always hope!

Into the park, along the path by the duck pond. The place was fairly empty, but far from deserted. Moms with toddlers were feeding the ducks, old ladies were strolling and gossiping, businessmen were on their cellphones.

He stopped us at a convenient tree, and he pulled me up close to him and kissed me. His lips were soft, his tongue restrained. He kissed, and I know this from experience, like a girl. For all that, he was a pretty good kisser. I could feel his cock straining through his pants as we made out, pressing up against my crotch, bumping up against my clit, and I liked that. I liked that an awful lot.

I pressed my tits hard against his chest. I may not be a skinny little waif, but I have boobs, and the boys certainly seem to like them. He wrapped his arms around me, putting his hands on my backside and squeezing my ass. My cunt was officially soaked.

“Come on,” I said, without any real idea where I was taking him, and hand-in-hand we jog-walked along the path, up the hill, until we came to a frog pond in a little patch of pine trees with a decorative bridge and some quasi-Japanese statuary. The place was empty at the moment, which was good because I don’t think his dick or my clit could have held out any longer.

We made out a little more at the top of the little bridge, but not for very long because we were both way, way too horny and turned-on. While busily trying to shove my tongue down his throat, I fumbled open the closure of his trousers. Not easy, but as soon as I was successful, his pants slid right down, and I followed them, ending up right where I wanted to be, on my knees, face-to-face with his crotch.

Yes, he was wearing white briefs, and yes, I thought that was absolutely adorable. I hooked my fingers in the waistband and yanked them straight down, freeing his cock like a jack-in-the-box. 

It wasn’t an especially big one, but I had sort of figured that out already, and I really didn’t mind. It would just be that much easier to fit the whole thing in my mouth, which is exactly what I proceeded to do.

God I love sucking cock!! I loved his taste, I loved the way he felt in my mouth, the noises he made. I probably could have made him come right then and there, but I wanted to prolong the pleasure – his for sure, but mostly mine.

I let his dick pop out of my mouth, and I admired it for a moment, small but tall and proud, glistening with my saliva and quivering with excitement. It was adorable, which is probably the last adjective any guys wants applied to his cock, but  it really was adorable.

“Turn around,” I said, and just to emphasize my point, I put both hands on his hips and I turned him around so he was bent over the bridge rail, with his flat butt right in my face.

His ass was pale and flawless. Without waiting for him to protest, I spread his cheeks and dove right in, licking all around his tiny, puckered little anus. He tasted musky and male and delicious. I stroked his wet cock with one hand while I wormed my tongue up his tight little asshole. The noises he was making were exquisite. I could feel his dick throbbing in my hand. His balls flapped up against my chin. My cunt was soaked.

I spun him around again, my own little marionette. I lifted up my shirt and pulled down my bra, and just for fun, enveloped his penis in the soft flesh of my boobs. I looked up at him and grinned hungrily.

“Where do you want to come?” I asked him sweetly, “On my face? On my tits? In my mouth?”

“Mouth!” he gasped, which was good, because that was where I had pretty much decided he was going to come anyway. I lusted to taste him, to consume and swallow him up.

I got serious about sucking him off, wrapping my lips tight around his petite cock, bobbing my head up and down, encouraging him to hump back, to fuck my mouth like a pussy. He took the hint. I grabbed his buns in both hands, pulling him into me, and let the tip of my middle finger slide inside his wet little asshole.

He made a sweet little choking noise, and exploded, instantly filling my mouth with what felt like about a gallon of thick, salty, bitter, delicious semen. I’m not ashamed to say I swallowed it all hungrily down, and sucked him dry.

When there was no more left to suck, when his dick was reduced to a soft little noodle, I finally released him and stood back up, tucking my tits back into my bra. I gave him a big, sloppy wet kiss on the lips. “Thank you,” I said, “That really hit the spot!”

He opened his mouth to say something, but just then his cellphone rang. It was in his pants pocket, and he suddenly seemed to remember that he was standing in the middle of a bridge in the park with his pants and underwear down around his ankles, and his privates hanging out in the cool spring air.

I walked away, leaving him scrambling to pull his pants back up and retrieve his ringing phone. I hoped it was Megan, I really did. An older lady was walking her Pomeranian by the pond, conspicuously not looking at me. I wondered how much she had seen. Hopefully everything. If she was anything like me, she would be jerking off as soon as she got home.

3.

I was finally out of the apartment. All my crap was packed up in boxes, loaded into the van. I was actually just pulling out of the driveway when Tami texted me.

Tami and I had been sexting until late the night before. It had started out fairly innocent, and (as tends to happen with me) had rapidly gotten heavily and explicitly sexual.

These are the things I knew about Tami: She’s a cancer survivor. She drives a school bus. She takes care of her disabled friend/roommate, who has cerebral palsy. She’s horny as fuck.

…and now I knew her address. I’d told her I was leaving town, and now she was inviting me over because she was, as she put it, “in desperate need of some quality dicking.” Well, I’d just see what I could do.

We hadn’t exchanged pictures. I had no idea what she looked like. She’d told me that she’d been celibate for an absurdly long time.

She was waiting for me in front of her house, a shabby little split-level ranch in a drab neighborhood. She was about my own age, but she looked a lot older, gaunt and skinny as an unwrapped mummy. She had thin grey hair, cropped into a crew cut, courtesy or recent chemo. She was wearing a black sweatshirt and baggy jeans. I’m going to rock this woman’s world, I thought to myself, if it’s the last fucking thing I do.

She ran up to meet me as I stepped out of the U-Haul, and then stopped short.

“You didn’t tell me you were a chick!”

“You never asked.” I put my arms around her and gave her a hug. She only hesitated a moment before hugging me tightly back. I dropped my hands to her nearly non-existent ass and squeezed, and she squirmed happily, rubbing herself up against me. We kissed a little bit, and it was nice, she tasted of vanilla.

She brought me inside, where I was introduced to her roommate, Reg. Reg was watching tv. She sat in an electric wheelchair. A urine bag was strapped to her leg, and she trailed oxygen tubing behind her.

“You kids have fun now,” she leered, “I’ll just turn the volume way up.”

Her bedroom was dark, with purple and green mood lighting. It reeked of patchouli. Quasi-psychedelic posters on the wall. Smooth jazz played through little Bluetooth speakers. I don’t usually like to fuck to music, especially smooth jazz, but as far as I was concerned, this was going to be all about her. Tall black taper candles, four of them, burned on a shelf above the headboard. I pulled her in close to me and we kissed some more, and I felt myself getting wet.

“I’ve never done it with a girl before.” Ah, but I had, and the truth is it ain’t rocket science. People are just people, you know? “Will you do it to me rough please, like we talked about last night?” I certainly would. We had gotten pretty filthy in our texting spree the night before.

We started smooching again, and this time I bit down hard on her lip, and she cooed and pressed her crotch against me. I shoved her backward, and we fell, tumbling onto her bed.

I pulled the sweatshirt off over her head. Her skin was almost translucent, and her ribs stuck out like rungs of a ladder. I kissed her all over, including the scars where her breasts had been.

“Please…” she begged, “Fuck me…”

Oh no sister, you’re not getting off that easy! I just wished that my collection of sex toys wasn’t so utterly buried under the boxes of books, clothing, board games, and cosmetics that presently filled the van. The tie from her bathrobe would do nicely though, and with a couple deft clove hitches, her wrists were firmly secured to the headboard.

“Oh, you’re bad!” she cooed.

“I’ll show you bad!” I pulled my t-shirt off over my head and unsnapped my bra. “Suck on these, girlfriend!” I shoved my boob in her face while I rubbed her pussy through her jeans. I could feel the heat of her cunt through the denim. I hadn’t fucked a girl in a really long time, and I was very much enjoying getting back into the habit.

I tugged her jeans off. She wasn’t wearing any panties. The contours of her pelvis showed clearly through her fragile pale skin. There was a tiny tuft of mouse-gray hair above her pussy. Her cunt was beautiful. It pouted open, like a rose bud, the swollen purple lips leaking slippery lust. Apparently I was doing ok.

I pulled off my own pants and stepped out of my panties. I shoved the crotch under Teri’s nose. “Are you ready to taste my pussy?”

“Oh yes,” she sighed, “Give it to me, please!”

I straddled her torso, shoving my cunt into her face, pulling her hair to bring her mouth to me. She lapped eagerly if inexpertly. The angle was awkward, but she looked hot as hell doing that.

Her licking felt nice, but the angle was off, and she definitely wasn’t going to get me off like that. Anyway, I was really really horny to get into her cunt, so climbed off and slid down between her legs.

Her pussy tasted sweet, clean and feminine. I enjoyed spreading her lips with my tongue, I enjoyed her wetness on my face, I enjoyed the sounds she made as I teased her pink clit out from under it’s little hood.

I have a strap-on in the van, and I was mentally kicking myself for not excavating out the toy box on my way over. On the other hand, there is nothing quite so sexy as fingering a chick to orgasm while you lick her clit, and feeling her orgasm all over your fingers.

I went to work. I slid one, and then a second finger up her slick wet pussy. It felt really sexy, her cunt wrapped around my fingers. Her clit bulged eagerly out, and I took it between my lips, sucking it like a tiny cock. Tami was humping back against me, grinding her clit against my mouth, moaning loud enough that it really didn’t matter how loud Reg had turned up the volume on the TV set, she was definitely hearing us now.

I slipped a wet finger up her asshole, and then just for good measure, I added a second finger. Now I was fucking her hard with four fingers of one hand, two in her cunt, two in her ass. I was pounding her as hard as I could, sweat was dripping down my face and my arm ached, and I was sucking her clit with everything I had.

She came hard for me, thrashing and screaming. Her cunt and her anus pulsated on my fingers, spasming and squeezing, her legs kicking high in the air. She shook the bed so hard that two of the tall taper candles fell off the shelf, and one immediately ignited a stack of papers on the floor by the bed.

Tami’s eyes were still shut tight, a angelic expression of bliss on her face. I disengaged from her, rushing to beat the fire out with a pillow, but it was already spreading, catching a wastepaper basket, a poster, and her wall hangings next to the door.

First thing to do was untie her, and fast! She cooed, “Oooh baby, that was…” and then she opened her eyes and saw flames. The room was rapidly filling up with smoke. “Oh SHIT!”

Finally, I got her wrists loose, and she shrank back from the fires, cowering with a panicked look on her face. “Shit! Reggie’s on oxygen, this place is a bomb!!”

 oh, fuck.

“Fire extinguisher! In the kitchen! Quick!!”

I rushed, naked, through what seemed like a wall of flames, burst out past the startled Reg, into the kitchen, where I grabbed the fire extinguisher, and sprinted back. The entire house was now starting to fill up with black smoke.

Back in the bedroom, I was eerily calm. I pulled the safety ring, and aimed the extinguisher at the base of the flames, pulling the trigger, and hosing the fire down with a side-to-side sweeping motion, just like in the instructions. In reality, the conflagration was much smaller than it looked. Before the little extinguisher was even empty, the fire was out.

“Holy…” Tami started saying.

“…Fuck!” I agreed.

We sheepishly pulled some clothes on, and opened all the windows and doors, apologizing profusely to Reg, who seemed unduly amused by the whole affair.

“You’re a hero!” Tami told me, as I climbed into the U-Haul van.

“The fuck I am,” I said, kissing her one last time. Then I put the van in gear and pulled out of her driveway onto the open road.

END

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