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Quickies © 2009 by Selena Kitt
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Quickies
By Selena Kitt
Contents
Do Not Ejaculate for 24 Hours!
Special Occasion Unmentionables
I never gave much thought to Miya until she was on her knees. Is that awful? I guess it is. But she was a very unobtrusive sort of woman, expedient, efficient, compliant in every way. She made the perfect legal secretary and I was certainly beyond grateful for her services. She’d managed to pull of miracles the night before client meetings I thought saints couldn’t perform, and would stay late to do them, too. But she did it all with a sort of easy grace that left you feeling as if she were invisible, and I guess in some ways she was.
Until I found myself standing in front of her, pulling another huge law tome out of my stacks, and looked down to see her kneeling on the floor beside me. Miya was incredibly petite, probably no more than five feet tall if she was an inch—even in heels, and she wore those every day—her long, dark hair sleek and pulled back from her rounded face. I knew some guys had a “thing” for Asian girls, but I never really had a type. I was an equal opportunity lover that way—if a woman interested me, it was about the woman, not her type.
Still, in that moment, something shifted in my perception of my secretary. On her knees, her skirt riding up from her foray on the floor, her blouse open to a generous V, at least from my angle, she was stunning, and when she lifted her eyes to mine—Christ! I think my cock grew three sizes at least. I’d never looked at her that way before. I know men say that, and most of them are lying, but for me, it was really true.
“I think I need to sit down.” I did. My knees felt like jelly, but besides that, my cock was straining to be released, and I couldn’t hide it very well in trousers.
“Are you okay?” She spoke with a slight Asian accent—I had no idea which one. She was American as far as I knew. I had not inquired about her heritage beyond that.
“I guess.” I settled into my big chair—Miya called it that. I’d heard her joking with my colleagues on the phone when I was too busy to take calls, “No, Mr. Rick is sitting in the big chair, he can’t be bothered right now.” My cock ached. And it didn’t help that she came forward and pressed a small hand against my forehead, easing it around to the back of my neck. Her breasts were eye-level, the silk of her blouse touching my cheek when she leaned over to reach a water bottle on my desk.
“Drink.” She insisted, and I did, grateful for something to do, and my mouth, I discovered, had become suddenly, incredibly dry. “Maybe you’re coming down with something?”
“Just dehydrated,” I said in between swallows.
“Are you sure?” That hand again, rubbing the back of my neck. I groaned, an involuntary thing, rolling my head to the side. She smiled, her eyes softening, as she slipped behind my chair. “Ahh, that’s it then.”
Her hands moved over my shoulders, beginning what would be the best massage of my life. Her movements were sure, confident, finding all the right points to make me gasp and moan out loud. This seemed to please her.
“If I’d known you could do this, I would have paid you more,” I joked.
“Let’s call it a bonus,” she murmured, working her thumbs under my shoulder blades, her breath warm against my ear. My cock was still raging—there was nothing I could do about it.
“God, that’s good.” I groaned as she squeezed my shoulders, the strength in her hands amazing compared to their size.
“I love giving you pleasure.” It was a spontaneous statement, something I don’t think she expected to say, just a low murmur, but it got my attention. I looked back at her and saw color flooding, high on her cheeks. “I mean, pleasing you. Doing the research, finding the books you need, making sure everything is…”
“You do please me,” I insisted, our eyes locked. The heat in my groin increased from smolder to fire. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been disappointed in the five years you’ve been here.”
I was trying to keep it professional. I really was. She didn’t make it easy.
In fact, I’d swear she was trying to make it hard—in more ways than one. She came around the chair to stand in front of me, running her hand through my hair in a very un-secretary-like way. “Would you like me to please you now?”
I stared, stunned. I couldn’t believe the risk she was taking. She could lose her job. Of course, she knew that. But her eyes said she knew different. She’d seen the shift in me, too, I think. Sensed or knew it somehow. I don’t know how women know that stuff.
I hadn’t had the time to answer when she sank to her knees, and I was lost. Miya on her knees had been what set me off in the first place, and now seeing her eyes turned up to me from between my thighs was more than enough to push me over any edge of uncertainty I’d been teetering on.
“I’d love it if you would,” I told her, my voice not my own, lower and pained. She smiled, her expert hands moving over my thighs, working on my zipper. My cock practically sprang out of my pants, and her eyes lit up, delighted. There was no question in my mind then, that this was something we both wanted.
If I’d thought it couldn’t get any better than my secretary kneeling before me, well, then I hadn’t had my cock in her hot little mouth yet. It got exponentially better. I groaned, pushing my hips forward as she sucked me, my hand moving to the back of her head, where her hair was gathered and tucked into some sort of bun.
“Can I?” I was already pulling out the fastenings, and she shook it all down in one motion, her hair like a cloud of soft satin framing her face. She looked totally different, Miya but not Miya, and that was good. I sighed as the silky strands brushed over my thighs with her movements.
But my cock wasn’t going to take much more of her attention without putting an end to things, and I didn’t want that yet.
“Come here,” I said, pulling her to me. “It’s about time I pleased you for once.”
“You please me all the time,” she murmured, but she let me move her onto my desk—she weighed practically nothing, it was like lifting a child—and I was delighted to find a wet spot on the dark material of her panties when I pushed up her skirt, and the fact that she wore stockings, thigh highs with lace at the top, was just a lovely bonus.
She helped me with her panties, hooking her thumbs in and pulling them down. They went off over the heels—she didn’t remove those, and I found that incredibly hot as I leaned in to explore the wetness between my secretary’s legs. Her pussy was as tiny as she was, but her lips were plump, the hair there dark and curly.
Her clit was a tender surprise, like a large jewel in a tiny box, and I sucked it into my mouth, eager to taste her. Miya sighed deeply when I did, her hand in my hair, her hips moving forward to give me more room. I thought about doing one of those movie-scene motions and sweeping everything off my desk, but there were client files and other important papers…it would have created more work than it was worth.
So instead, I pressed her down onto the desk in the space between, so she was lying across my blotter with all the notes I jotted down on my calendar and, sitting in my chair, I spread her thighs wide and licked her. She was the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted, before or since, and the soft moans she made, the way her thighs quivered just before she came, made my cock weep with joy and pleasure.
When I came up for air, kissing my way across her belly, skipping the waistband of her skirt—she’d undone her blouse, and bra, and they were open, her hands cupping the gentle swell of her tiny breasts. Her nipples were a delight, dark in the center, the areolas puffy and protruding, just begging to be sucked. She gasped when I licked at them, wiggling between my thighs.
My cock, no longer straining, free of its prison, was now trapped between our bodies as we rocked together on the desk. I kissed her deeply, and she breathed me in, her body melting against mine, her tiny hips rolling, grinding. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, she reached down between us, grabbing my cock and aiming me.
“Please,” she said. That was all, but it was more than enough. I slid in deep, the sensation the most decadent I’d ever known. She was wet from my tongue, but still tight, gripping my cock with a muscle strength that surprised me. Miya put her ankles up on my shoulders, and that made things even tighter. My cock jumped in happy surprise as I began to fuck her.
“Oh god that’s good,” I groaned, grabbing her hips, leaning over her jackknifed body to watch as her breasts moved with each thrust, her nipples hardening, her eyes half closing in pleasure.
I knew I couldn’t hold out long. She was too good, too tight, too much velvet heat and silk wrapped around me. Her hands grasped mine, squeezing, her nails digging into my wrists. Her hair spread out around her like a black river over my desk, and she bit her lip, her expression pained, as she was about to come.
“Oh Miya, I can’t hold back,” I gasped as her pussy squeezed my cock, again and again.
“Yes!” she cried, her hips moving, urging me on. “Fill me. Oh, please, yes, fill me with your cum!”
She didn’t have to ask me twice. With a final groan and a hard thrust, I shoved into her, pushing the desk forward a good foot in the bargain, and gave her everything I had. My cock exploded in hot, white bursts, over and over, and I thought I would die when I looked down to see my cum seeping out of her pink flesh in rivulets, as if she was too small to contain it.
I saw the uncertainty on her face, then, as we moved from passion toward composure, and I sought to reassure her. Pulling her against me—she was so slight, I could easily gather her into my arms, and I did, sitting her in my lap as I settled in the “big chair.”
“Did I—?”
“You pleased me.” I anticipated her question, covering her damp throat with kisses. “Beyond pleased. Believe me.”
She seemed satisfied and settled herself in my lap with a happy sigh, one that absolutely thrilled me. I glanced over at the spot we’d been standing, the book still pulled out on the shelf, the desk where our work was piled up, the things we’d shoved aside so we could have a space between to come together. I took it all in, smiling, and I knew, work to do or not, we were going to be in for a long night
$5.99 A Minute
Ralph logged on nearly every night now when Dee went to bed. She got up earlier than he did and would often fall asleep on the couch during the ten o’clock news. On these occasions, he’d nudge her awake and hustle her off to bed with an, “I’ll be there soon.” She was usually asleep again before her head fit the pillow, and he would sit in the living room with his laptop on a TV tray, his hand wrapped around the thick, pulsing length of his cock and the newscasters’ reports of doom and gloom muted while he communed with a goddess.
Her name was Julianne. Of course, it wasn’t really, but they pretended it was real—they pretended it was all real—and it was good enough for him. He’d never have believed a virtual connection could feel so genuine, but it did. Sometimes he thought he could feel her skin, and her eyes always, always seemed to be looking straight into him. Nothing could have prepared him for the experience, and nothing could have kept him from it, now.
He logged in quickly, typing, “Hey Jules,” into the rectangular chat box. She sent him a smiley face in response, a quick :) that somehow made his heart beat faster, his cock harden more. He rubbed it absently through his boxers as he typed one-handed—he’d become an expert one-handed typer in the past month—“Can we go private?”
Timing was everything. Some nights he had to wait, twenty minutes, half an hour. He hated the thought of her communicating with anyone else. He told himself she had a job to do and that was part of it, but he convinced himself she felt differently about him than she did about the others. She had even told him so, in their virtual post-coital chats, so it must be true.
He thrilled at her one-word typed response, “Yes.”
The clock in the corner of his computer told him it was ten fifty-two. The site had his credit card information already, and he simply had to click a button on the screen—the button to heaven—and there she was, in all her glory, wearing black panties and a black push-up bra tonight, her golden hair a cloud of curls around her perfectly angelic face. Everything stayed covered for the non-private chats, but when they were off in a room of their own, where only he could see her, she took it all off. Usually just when he told her to, and in whatever order he wished.
Ralph plugged in his headphones and turned up his sound. He loved being able to hear her voice, the sweet sound of her laugh, the low moans that came later. He longed to talk to her as well, but the company she worked for didn’t allow it. Instead, he was stuck with typing, just words on a screen.
“I have a new toy.” She absolutely purred, stretching out her long, tawny limbs and reaching for something off view of the webcam. It was a pink dildo, curved at the end, with a white wire attached. “Guess what we can do with this?”
“I can’t wait to hear.” His typed words were true enough. His cock throbbed at the sight of it, almost as pink as he knew her pussy was. The thought of seeing it slide inside her made the tip of his cock wet.
Julie leaned the other way off screen, doing something there he couldn’t see, but he loved the way her panties rode up the crack of her ass when she did. She leaned back into a sea of pillows then, sliding her panties down and then spreading her long legs for him. It was a surprise—she usually waited to hear what he wanted first.
“I sent you instructions,” she murmured, using the toy to part her pussy lips—they glistened in the light, already wet for him, and he groaned as he checked his “In” box on the site. Sure enough, there was a list of instructions there for the very toy she was playing with, instructions that were impossibly exciting. Just by using a few strokes of his keys, he could control the vibrator’s intensity.
“Do you want me to play?” Her eyes were bright, teasing. She knew he wanted her to, and he saw her glance at her laptop screen, waiting for his response.
“On your clit.” His typed words instructed, watching her comply, her lip caught between her teeth as she rubbed the pink head of the toy over the sensitive bud.
He pressed a key on his keyboard and heard the vibrator buzz to life, making her moan. Her nipples were hard under her bra and he wanted to see her gorgeous tits.
“Pull your bra down.”
She yanked at the cups, letting her pink-tipped breasts free. God he wanted to suck those hard little nipples. The hand on his cock seemed to move on its own, stroking faster as he watched her writhe on the bed.
“Play with your nipples.”
One hand cupped her breast, squeezing the pink bud as she rubbed her little clit faster with the toy. Ralph upped the ante, pressing another key, hearing the vibrator’s buzz change, intensify.
“Ohhhhh!” Julie spread wider and he could see the faint gape of her hole, exactly the place where he wanted to put his cock. Instead, he told her to put the toy there, and he groaned out loud when he watched the pink surface of the vibrator disappearing into her pink flesh, the curved end pointed up, plunging deep.
“Fuck yourself.”
He watched, eyes glazed, hand pumping, breath coming fast, as she thrust the dildo deep, gasping as he turned up the force of the vibration with the stroke of a key. The in and out of her the toy was almost enough to push him over, her breasts swaying gently with the motion, her eyes half closed, but still watching the screen for his instructions.
“Feel good?” He managed to type.
“Oh fuck, baby, it’s so good in my pussy!” Her hips lifted as she fucked herself. “Gimme more! Please! Please!”
He bit his lip, squeezed his cock hard, and did as she asked, turning it up, up, hearing it buzz in his ears as it took her closer to orgasm.
“Uh! Uh! Uh!” She rocked, eyes closing, gone to him now, but it didn’t matter. His cock jerked in his hand as she watched her come, her face and breasts flushed with it, the toy buzzing mightily in her cunt as her pussy gripped its slick, pink surface again and again. His cum splashed hot, white heat against his bare belly and he imagined aiming his cock against her throbbing clit, covering her with his cum.
The sweet sounds of her coming back down filled his ears, and his cock jerked to life again for a moment when she pulled the toy from her pussy and sucked off her juices. My god, she was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“God, I missed you Ralph. Where were you last night?” she asked, leaning up on an elbow and looking right at him. Last night. Right. Last night he and Dee had argued well into the wee morning hours about their upside-down mortgage and how they were going to consolidate their credit card debt.
He didn’t tell Julie any of that. Instead, he typed, “I missed you, too.”
“Oh damn.” She tossed the wet toy aside, frowning at her laptop screen. “I’ve got someone else who wants to go private. I’m sorry, sweetie.”
His heart sank, but he typed, “I understand.”
“See you tomorrow night?”
“Of course. G’nite, baby.”
She blew him a kiss, and that was it. The screen was dark. The clock on his computer told him it was eleven-oh-three. Too short. There was never enough time to spend with her. And at $5.99 a minute, he knew Dee would have something to say about how much time he was spending when this month’s credit card statement finally came.
He sighed, slipping his boxers off and using them to wipe himself off before closing his laptop for the night. Some part of him knew there would be consequences to pay in the end, that his time with Julianne was a sort of escape, but another part of him didn’t care.
It was worth it, he told himself. She was worth it. And she thought he was, too. She told him she missed him. She looked forward to being with him. She made him feel…hell, she just made him feel. That was enough. More than enough.
Who wouldn’t pay $5.99 a minute for that?
Road To Nowhere
“I need the map.” I shook her shoulder as gently as I could. Susie opened one eye and stuck out her tongue, turning toward the passenger door. “Can you get it? It’s in my bag.”
“Do I smell chicken?” Both eyes were open now and she sat up, blinking at the brightness.
“Yeah.” I nodded at the bucket on the floor. “I need to know which exit.”
“Did I really sleep through you stopping for chicken?” She yawned, leaning carefully over the seat and fishing through her bag.
“You slept through half of New Mexico, doll.” I admired the swell of her behind as she stretched over the seat, pulling the map out of my bag and putting it down between us.
Susie settled herself in the front seat again, digging through the red and white bag on the floor and pulling out a tub of coleslaw. “Oh, evil temptation!”
I steered around something in the road. “What exit does it say to take off this?”
Susie looked at the hand-drawn map and carefully printed directions. “Sixty-three.” She put her bare feet up on the dashboard, pulling a white spoon/fork combination out of its plastic and studying the eating utensil. “I bet the guy who invented the spork is going to be a millionaire.” I noticed her toes, painted a deep, blood red. “Hey, are you still hungry?”
“Nah. I had a couple wings.” I nodded to the greasy red and white bucket on the floor, leaning over and squeezing her slim leg through her sun dress. “Although…I could go for a thigh.”
“Bad!” She poked my knuckles with her spork.
“Watch it!” I put my hand back on the steering wheel, smiling.
“Oh right, like I could take you with a spork?”
“You just like saying spork.”
“Where are we, Mark?” Susie tapped the spoon against the dash to some invisible beat. “There’s nothing to see out here but sand and more sand.”
“Not true—look, there’s a cactus!” I pointed, using the diversion to grab the utensil out of her hand. Susie rolled her eyes but rewarded me with a small smile. I held out the modified spoon. “Wanna spork?”
“Bad!” She groaned, but took it back. “I’m so tired of being lost. How did we end up heading to a town we couldn’t even find on the map?” I glanced over to see her pulling the lid off the bucket of chicken and peering inside.
I shrugged. “Maps don’t know everything.”
“If it isn’t on the map, it doesn’t exist.” She gave me a Susie-look, the one that said, ‘I know everything, even if you think I don’t.’
“Well, let’s hope you’re wrong.” I watched her use the rubber band around her wrist to pull her long, dark hair back into a ponytail and sighed.
“Never happens.” She flipped on the radio with a delicate flick of her small wrist.
I smiled, slipping a hand behind her neck, massaging. “You’re so smug.”
She slid all the way across the Malibu’s bench seat—even with the air on, her long legs stuck to the vinyl—and snuggled up beside me. “Mmm. I think I found something better than chicken.”
“Susie…” Her fingers did the walking up my leg, dancing across my crotch. “I’m driving.”
“So drive.”
There was no stopping a determined Susie, and she was determined now, unzipping my fly, her small hand finding my already-hardening cock through the gap in my boxers.
“Oh Christ.” Her mouth was warm and wet, licking me into a swelling state of hardness as I leaned back in the seat, giving her more room to work. The soft, hungry noises she made from my lap were maddening, and the road seemed to melt, a fading mirage in the orange glow of the setting sun, as my eyes half-closed in pleasure.
“Mmmmm,” she murmured around the length, her lips coming up red on the tip. “Now this is what I call a tasty meal.”
I tried to control myself—my breathing, the pressure of my foot on the gas pedal, the play of the steering wheel in my hand—but my hips moved all by themselves, thrusting my cock into her willing mouth. She made a fist around the shaft and stroked me fast as her tongue circled the head. I knew she could taste my precum, just mere pennies compared to the payoff her hard work was going to give her in, I gauged, probably less than a minute.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” I whispered, grabbing onto her ponytail—the perfect handle—using it to pump myself into her mouth, feeling it building, a deep well, a fountain ready to burst. The speedometer read a steady fifty-five, and that was good. Don McLean was crooning a goodbye to Miss American Pie, and that was good, too. The road was straight and even, the yellow lines stretching upward as we began to crest the top of a hill, and I was riding high toward my own summit, Susie’s mouth working its magic between my legs.
“Oh yeah, oh yeah, it’s coming!” I moaned, the shove of my hips forcing my cock deep into her mouth as she swallowed—I heard her throat working, trying to take the full load of my cum—and it was in that moment of unimaginable heaven I saw the flash of lowbeams converging with the blacktop as we came to the very top of the hill.
I had time to think that it was early for lights—mine were still off—as the sun was just setting somewhere deep in the desert. I had time to feel Susie’s blissfully unaware sigh as she licked the last bit of my cum from the tip of my cock. I think I even had time to hear the last bit of the song on the radio:
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levy
But the levy was dry
And them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing this'll be the day that I die…
At least, I think I heard it, maybe I just remembered it that way, the DJ saying, “Number three on the charts this week, that was…”
I realized the car was in our lane, no mirage coming over the hill in the fading heat-haze of a blood-red sun, but a hulking, flying mass of metal that would knock us fully into darkness.
So I closed my eyes. There was nothing else to do but close my eyes and wait for it, and when my breath turned to glass in my throat, when the impact didn’t come, when the Malibu continued on its way under my power down the ever-darkening ribbon of highway, I opened them again in a panic.
Seeing the truth made me want to retch. Seeing only half of Susie’s head resting in my lap, the blood soaked end of her pony-tail slick in my hand. Seeing the front end of the Malibu—brand spanking new and cherry red in 1972—crumpled like an accordion in front of me, its body rusted, the paint faded almost to pink. There were no lights, there was no road, no smell of chicken, no radio playing. Some time during its lingering stay on the side of the road in the middle of the desert for the past thirty-some years, the Malibu had become a convertible, it’s roof completely gone, leaving us completely exposed to the elements.
Not that it mattered. We were the elements now.
“Susie.” I blinked, whispered her name, and she sat up, still licking her lips. There was no more blood, no more nightmare gore. She was just Susie again, her eyes bright in the orange glow of sunset. There was no car coming toward us, and the Malibu seemed to know its own way down the desert highway.
“Susie, did you…?” I wanted to ask her if she had seen, if she knew what I had, in that awful, liminal moment between worlds, realized. When she pressed her fingers to my lips, and then kissed me—god, I could taste my cum on her mouth, how could that be?—I understood that she knew, too, had known all along.
She snuggled up next to me and turned up the radio. It was that song again, that same song, singing this will be the day that I die…
“Just keep driving,” she murmured, and I did, steering us ever toward our destiny, on a darkening road to nowhere.
Sacred Prostitute: Teacher
She knew exactly the effect she had on men.
Holly’s power didn’t come from a lipstick tube or a lingerie store—it amused and saddened her by turns when she realized most women thought so. It went much deeper than that.
“How old are you, Brian?”
He was incredibly young. Doe-eyes—big, brown and beautiful—blinked at her as if she were the brightest thing in the room. Looking around the dimly lit bar, older patrons intent on their drinks, the glow from the television just a ghostly shadow in the corner—she thought, perhaps, she was.
“Old enough to be here.” Brian shifted in his chair, and she noticed, the way she noticed everything, how his eyes moved over the cream-colored silk of her blouse, down to respectable-but-intentionally-revealing V of her cleavage.
Holly smiled, reached across the table, and took his hand. “Now, why don’t I believe you?”
His palm was wet —actually wet—and his fingers trembled, but the brave face he put on made her want to weep with compassion and even a little delight.
“My friend, he told me you could teach me.”
She sipped her drink through a tiny straw, not answering, her eyes focused on him until his gaze dropped to the table. Holly was very careful, even fastidious. Her referrals came only through sources she trusted.
“This is the address.” Her business card was like the cream-colored silk of her blouse, soft and clean and bright, and she slid it across the table toward him. “Tomorrow, seven p.m.”
“How do I—”
She stood, shrugging on her long, black wool coat, pulling a thick length of curly, honey-colored hair from beneath the collar. “You’ll receive a text message tonight with further instructions.”
“I feel like double-oh-seven.” His grin was both nervous and goofy, but there was a cockiness in it that allowed her to glimpse the man he would become, and it thrilled her.
“Maybe not today.” Holly smiled as she pulled on her gloves. “But after tomorrow night?” She leaned over and brushed her lips against his ear, feeling him shiver as she whispered, “Your life will never be the same.”
There was no arrogance in her words and she left him there with them, his eyes glazed with anticipation.
And yet, she knew…he had no idea.
* * * *
“Breathe.”
Her whispered words seemed to force the air from his lungs in a long, trembling exhale. They were both completely nude—she started virgins that way, with no pretenses or defense—and although his cock was like a steel rod nestled against the crevice of her behind as she straddled him, she ignored it completely, focusing her eyes on his, both of her hands resting in the middle of his chest. She was balancing herself, but doing much more than that.
“Do you want to touch me?” She knew the answer, but waited.
“God, yes.” His hand, held rigidly at his side, started to move, but stopped when she gave a slight shake of her head.
“How does it make you feel, that wanting?” She brought her face down closer to his, her eyes searching, her hair falling across his chest and shoulders. He gave a small gasp, just a short intake of breath, his eyes half-closing in anticipation.
“Crazy,” he murmured, swallowing, licking his lips. “Like…like I would do anything. Anything for you. To you. I feel…I fell like a wild man. I want to…”
“Go on,” she encouraged, rocking her hips back slightly, feeling his cock jerk. “Don’t censor it. Tell me.”
“I want to… oh god.” He gasped again when one of her hands snuck behind her back, pressing his cock, which had made a wet precum trail along the groove of her ass. “Oh my god, that’s good. I want to fuck you, Holly, I want to be inside you.”
“Mmm.” She rubbed him a little faster, her expert thumb caressing the sensitive frenulum. “Good. More.”
“I have to.” His hips pressed her upward, and she delighted in his strength, how in-check it was in the moment, its potential for unleashing. “Oh please, I want you, I want to fuck you, take you…” He let out a low growl when she wrapped her hand completely around his cock. “I could devour you.”
“Yes!” She squeezed, released. Again. Again. “Tell me. Tell me, Brian.”
“Ahhhhh god I want to crawl inside you!” His hands went to her hips and she didn’t stop him, rocking back against his cock, still tight in her fist, her pussy spreading wetness over his lower belly. “I could tear you apart just to get inside you, ahhh god I want you, every fucking inch of you.”
“Look at me—into my eyes.” Her words were breathless—it excited her to see him, to hear him, like this. His eyes were open, barely, but he focused on her face. “Do you feel it between us?”
He nodded, gulped.
“This is everything, right here, you and me.” She knelt above him, now, still straddling, one hand pressed against his chest, the other encircling his cock. “This is what moves the world. This is life. This is love.”
His eyes were wide now. She saw surprise, a glimpse of fear, realization. That last thrilled her as she positioned herself over him, guided him.
“Do you really feel it?” She whispered, his cock poised, ready.
His hands moved over her belly—soft, flat, quivering—cradling her hips in wonder, as if he held the whole of creation between his hands. And he did.
“Do you feel it here?” Holly squeezed his cock, eliciting a low moan.
“Yes.”
“Do you feel it here?” She rubbed her hand over his chest, his heart, looking deep into his eyes.
He swallowed, nodded. “Yes. Yes.”
“Remember,” she whispered, shifting her hips and letting him inside of her. He was young, inexperienced, and had never felt the first blissful moment of entry. She didn’t expect him to last past that moment, and was surprised when his eyes stayed focused on hers instead of closing in climax, his hands steady on her hips.
“You’re so beautiful.” His words were so genuine they made her flush with pleasure, and she showed him her gratitude, moving her hips in slow, easy circles.
His eyes did flutter closed then, but she pressed him, “look at me,” and he did. “Don’t try to escape from the feeling. Come into it. With me.” She leaned in to capture his mouth, their kiss soft but full of feeling. “With me.”
He moved naturally, his hips rocking with her. “Oh my god.”
“Yes, exactly.” She smiled against his cheek, pressing her breasts to his chest. “This is how we make love, our flesh, in and out…” The sound of their wet coupling filled the room. “But we’re making love, all of us, all the time.”
She felt him listening—his whole body was listening—and she took advantage of the teaching moment. “My breath. Your breath. In and out. That’s how we make love to the divine. It’s no different.”
Her lips trailed across his jaw, leaving soft, warm kisses toward his ear. “Spirit is everywhere. It isn’t up there or out there. It’s in here. In me. In you. Our flesh, joined. One.”
His hands tightened on her behind, pressing in deep, making her gasp and moan. At the sound of her pleasure, his cock swelled inside of her.
Holly hid her smile against his neck. “But we don’t have to talk about it. We can just feel it.” She used the tight, velvet muscles of her pussy to squeeze him, making his head rock, side to side, his eyes closing in blissful agony.
“And it doesn’t always look like this,” she murmured, urging him over with her, pulling him on top of her. He looked surprised but pleased by the change, propping himself above her. “Sometimes it’s raw. Animal. You know that feeling? That wild man feeling you told me about?”
He nodded, his eyes so hungry they filled her with heat. “I feel that, too. And I want to feel that from you.”
“You do?” he asked, cautious.
She arched, bit her lip, grabbed his upper arms and squeezed. “God, yes!”
“Oh Holly,” he groaned, his cock throbbing, literally throbbing, between her legs. She rarely felt such urgency anymore, and it made her melt.
”Show me!” she urged, pulling him closer, her teeth lightly raking his shoulder. “Don’t tell me this time—show me how you feel, how much you want—”
He growled and bucked on top of her, the force of his hips driving her into the bed, and she gasped at his need, taking everything he gave her and begging for more.
“Yes, Brian, yes yes!” she moaned, wrapping her long legs around his hips, using her heels to press him deeper. “Fuck me, baby! Harder!”
Her words spurred him on, and she knew he had to be close—that constantly observant part of her marveled that he’d made it this far already—but he was holding back, and she understood when his eyes met hers in the dimness.
“Do you want to make me come?”
He nodded, biting his lip.
“Then fuck me here, too.” She pressed a hand between her breasts, and he groaned, pressing his face against her neck, hiding from everything that had been and was being revealed, moment by moment. She thought it was over, that he would give up, but he surprised her.
“Holly, Holly,” he whispered into her hair, his thighs forcing hers wider, hips grinding. “Beautiful, amazing, wonderful, glorious woman…”
She flushed—her whole body flushed—as she met his thrusts.
“Goddess,” he murmured, biting at her nipple, making her pussy spasm in response. “Fucking goddess…witch…siren…whore…”
“Oh god,” she whispered when he found the perfect rhythm, his tongue bathing her nipple, sending electric sparks to her groin. “Don’t stop. Please don’t.”
He groaned, moving faster, hips pumping deep, deeper still, and Holly writhed beneath him, letting him take her there. She never faked an orgasm—and never would. What Holly gave, she gave completely, and she gave it to him now, a shuddering, gasping release, the pleasure rolling through her body again and again.
“Ahhhhh fuck!” He cried, his mouth crushing hers as he came, as if he could pour it all out, empty himself completely into her, body, breath, everything. She welcomed him with long limbs, whispered, heated words, coaxing every last drop out in long, quivering waves until he collapsed against her, breathless.
“Stay with me,” she whispered, touching his cheek, his jaw, until his dark eyes lifted to meet hers.
“I’m here.”
“With me,” she said, the emphasis clear, feeling her heart beating hard in her chest, how it expanded to include this boy/man, every man, everything, from the inside out. “This, Brian… this is what we’re alive for.”
“You were right.” He lifted his head, his eyes no longer searching. “I’ll never be the same.”
She pulled him close and held on. “I know.”
Orion’s Belt
Middy was waiting. She’d spent her life waiting—waiting to be old enough, to earn enough, to get enough, to get out. She sat like a perpetually hopeful Linus in the Great Pumpkin Patch, waiting for something that would never come, hoping for the arrival of someone who would never appear, leaving her always, just…waiting.
The field was dark, the air warm over her bare arms and legs. She was dressed for work—short skirt, halter top—although she’d carried her four inch heels when she left the pavement and walked barefoot through the grass to this spot. There were no lights out here, no street lights, no city lights. She could only see one faint square glow of a house window and it seemed miles away.
She lifted her face to the sky, scanning the stars, millions of them out there in the darkness, the patterns unfamiliar and undecipherable to her, except for the big dipper and the belt of the one called Orion. She only knew that one because her mother had pointed it out to her once. “Look, Chlamydia, there’s the belt of Orion—almost close enough you could reach out and hang onto it, isn’t it? I bet he could take you anywhere.”
Her mother had been a prostitute, too, always waiting and looking for a way out. She usually, mistakenly, chose a man as a failed escape route, ending up broken and beaten and crawling back on her knees in the end. Women like her… like me, Middy thought… we spend our lives on our knees in front of men.
There had never been anything better for her mother. Why would she think there would be anything better for her? Middy sighed, pulling a blade of grass and splitting it up the middle with a long, red fingernail. Using her mouth, she whistled a tone through her grass harp, as if she could call something new, something different, something other than an endless parade of cocks and cum and cash.